SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle (EqG), Death, Alternate Universe, Human, Romance, Drama, Rainbow Dash (EqG), RWBY, Adventure, Equestria Girls, Violence, Crossover, Sunset Shimmer
Length: 4315132

Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

Sunset Shimmer fled from Equestria in search of the destiny that Celestia sought to deny to her. She dreamed of finding great glory and power in a strange new world. But she emerged on the other side of the mirror in a harsh cruel world beset by demons and troubled by division, conflict and racial animus: the world of Remnant.

Now, years later, Sunset has completed her studies at Canterlot Combat School and is ready to attend Beacon Academy. She hopes that in the more progressive Kingdom of Vale her appearance as a pony faunus will not be held against her the way it was in Atlas, and she can rise as high as her talents permit and seize with both hands the destiny she still yearns for.

Sunset finds herself assigned to lead three fellow freshman at the Huntsman Academy: Jaune Arc, who dreams of becoming a hero elevated above all others; Pyrrha Nikos, a peerless warrior who has everything that Sunset wants and hates everything about it; and Ruby Rose, a simpler and more honest soul who simply wants to save as many people as she can, and who might just light the way to their salvation.

Together they are Team SAPR, and together they are plunged into a world of mysteries, magic, allies and enemies, robot girls and Atlasian black ops experiments. It won't be easy, but if they can work together, teach Jaune how to fight and maybe learn to get along as friends along the way, then they might just save the world.

Original Cover Art by Mix-Up
Current Cover Art by MRK50
Now with a TV Tropes page

Also with a Discord Server

Published 2018-08-31 18:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-19 16:04:36 UTC

No Heroes (New)

No Heroes

Sunset Shimmer drummed her fingers impatiently upon the glass counter of the dust shop. When she glanced down, she could see her reflection in said glass, the red streaks in her fiery hair seeming to blend with the red of the fire dust crystals kept in the case below. She looked irritated, and in Sunset's opinion, she had every right to be. She'd come into From Dust 'til Dawn because, even after her flight from Canterlot to Vale and her finding suitable accommodations, she still had a little bit of lien left over from her travel grant and had decided that a little dust might come in handy during initiation. As a rule, dust was out of Sunset’s price range, but since she had some spare change for once and since this was her chance to make a big impression, she had decided to splash out.

Just a little fire dust, that was all she wanted. But she had been standing here for the last twenty minutes waiting to be served while the old guy who ran this shop pottered about without so much of an acknowledgement of her presence.
And it wasn't even as if the place was crowded. Sunset couldn't see anybody else here, not a single soul. Her ears pressed flat against the top of her head. Her tail twitched irritably back and forth.

Just because I don't have anything better to do tonight doesn't mean that I want to spend all night standing here!

Sunset cleared her throat. "Excuse me!"

"I'll be right with you," the aged shopkeeper croaked in reply.

"You said that five minutes ago," Sunset reminded him. "And ten minutes before that."

The shopkeeper sighed as he made his way towards the counter. "Listen, I've got a lot to do at the back, so I'm sorry, but you'll just have to wait until I'm done."

"And I'm sure you'd be saying the exact same thing to a human," Sunset growled.

"Hey!" the shopkeeper said. "If you're not happy with the way I do business, you're welcome to go someplace else."

"Yeah, because there are so many dust shops open this late," Sunset muttered under her breath. Nevertheless, she was tempted to just leave and forget the dust, if only to show that she had some pride and self-respect. She wasn't about to let this guy treat her like dirt just because he could.

On the other hoof, she did want that dust.

It was a conundrum that she had not yet resolved when she heard the tinkling of the bell above the shop door as someone came in behind her. The shopkeeper's eyes widened in apprehension as someone coughed behind Sunset.

"Excuse us, little pony." The voice that spoke was smarmy, and his tone would have made Sunset bristle even if he hadn't just called her 'little pony.' "But you don't mind if we cut in line, do you? My friends and I are in a little bit of a hurry."

Sunset's jaw clenched in anger. "As a matter of fact, I do mind," she declared, as she started to turn around. "Because I've been waiting here for nearly half an hour, and I'm not about to just-" She fell silent as she got a chunky, boxy auto-pistol shoved into her face.

"That was me asking nicely." The man who spoke was a well-dressed redhead in a crisp white suit, with a bowler hat upon his head and thick black gloves covering his hands. He was holding a cigar that looked as though it had just been plucked from between his teeth in one hand, and with the other, he was trifling with a cane that was either an affectation or a weapon, given that he clearly didn't need it for support. He spoke, but he was not the one who had just shoved a gun into Sunset’s face. Ranged around the man in white were a half-dozen muscular fellows dressed in all-black suits, black fedoras, and red ties, all of them sporting some variety of facial hair, their eyes concealed behind red sunglasses. It was one of them, a bearded fellow with a square jaw, who held the pistol that was of most concern to Sunset at this moment.

Sunset smirked. "Nice outfits, fellas; are you on your way to a party?"

The man in the white suit chuckled. "We'll find some way to celebrate, I'm sure. Now, you're too young to be a huntress, but you've got that fancy weapon on your shoulder so…let me guess, Beacon student."

"Soon-to-be Beacon student, actually."

"Congratulations," said the man in white, a genial smile upon his face. "My father always believed in the transformative power of education." His face hardened. "But this isn't the classroom, kid, and we're not playing games, so you're not going to give me any trouble, are you?"

The smirk remained on Sunset's face. "Nope," she said. "No trouble at all." As much as foiling whatever crime in progress this was before she'd even started attending Beacon would be a feather in her cap when she got to Beacon, she wasn't inclined to risk her life for a shopkeeper who had gone out of his way to waste her time.

“Smart girl, you definitely belong at that fancy school,” the man in the white suit said. “Now, believe me, I’d love to let you finish your browsing, but my boys and I are on a bit of a tight schedule, so why don’t you stick your hands where we can see them, and we’ll do our best to make this quick and painless and get out of your pretty hair as soon as possible.”

Sunset raised her hands slowly, until they were level with her head, palms facing outwards towards the criminals that confronted her. That left her in a pretty good position to use her magic if necessary, but they didn't know that yet, and Sunset wasn't about to enlighten them.

The man with the pistol pointed at Sunset and gestured sideways with his gun. "Move," he snapped. Sunset slid out of the way, exposing the counter full of dust and the shopkeeper standing beside it.

"That’s the spirit," said the man in white as he strolled up to the counter, taking the place that Sunset had vacated. He leaned upon the glass case. "The good news for you, old man, is that we're not here for your money." To the man still pointing a gun at Sunset he said, "Keep her covered. The rest of you grab the dust."

Sunset watched as the crew set to work. There were a series of pipes secured to the side of the shop wall, filled with ready-ground and purified dust of various varieties; the crooks plugged large cylinders into those pipes and began extracting the powder. They also put down a case on top of the counter and gestured to the shopkeeper to fill it with crystals.

The shopkeeper glanced at Sunset with an accusatory look on his face.

"Don't look at her!" snapped the man in white. He sniggered. "Maybe in your day, some have-a-go hero would have stepped in to do what's right and save the day, but that's not the world we live in anymore. Nobody's going to help you out."

Meanwhile, the bearded man keeping Sunset covered had been eyeing up Sol Invictus, or at least what he could see of it; the weapon was slung crosswise across Sunset's shoulder, with only the top of the barrel and the butt of the stock visible. "That looks like a nice piece," he said, as she started to reach out for the rifle. "You huntresses always get the coolest stuff."

Sunset took a step back. Her tail flicked upwards. "Look, but don’t touch, okay, buddy," she said.

The crook smirked. "If you think the boss cares whether you live or die then-”

A blast of green magical energy leapt from Sunset's left palm to strike the would-be weapon thief square in the face. He was hurled backwards with a startled cry of alarm – matching the cry made by another of black-suited crooks as he was hurled across the store by some unseen force in the back.

Sunset threw herself sideways, landing on the floor with a thump. She was hidden behind the left-hand side of the central square counter for now, but she crawled rapidly around behind it as she unslung Sol Invictus. Her fingertip traced the flaming sun engraved in the stock – her cutie mark, which she had adopted as her symbol in this world – as she gripped the wood tightly. She cocked the hammer on her rifle into the firing position and the cylinder containing the ammunition rotated to the ready position in turn.

Six rounds in the cylinder. Five-

Out of the corner of her eye Sunset caught sight of a red blur as another of the men in black was kicked out of the dust shop window.

Make that four targets.

The man in the white suit growled in irritation. "You three get the girl! I'll deal with the pony myself!"

I'm a unicorn, actually. Sunset rose partially from out of her cover, snapping off a pair of shots at the black-clad gangsters as they rushed out of the door to confront whoever "the girl" was outside. She hit the guy at the back, in the back, with both shots, but it wasn’t enough to drop him before he got outside. Sunset fired her third shot at the man in white, who ducked behind the other side of the central square so that Sunset's bullet slammed into the door frame.

"You know," the man in white said, his tone far too casual for the circumstances, "maybe if you'd gone to school, you would have learned-" - he rose from behind cover, pointing the tip of his cane at the shelf full of fire-dust packets behind Sunset - "-not to start a firefight in a dust store."

Crap! Sunset’s eyes widened as a glowing missile of some kind shot from the tip of the cane and flew towards the packets of dust shelved just behind her. She flung out her hand, conjuring a glowing green bubble around the missile just before it struck the volatile dust powder. Inverted shield, a spell of her own design, that flung the shield up around someone else rather than you. She’d thought it might be useful for capturing people, but as the missile exploded harmlessly within the bubble Sunset reflected that it was good for rockets and grenades as well.

Sunset dispelled her shield. She had enough magic left for a couple more neat tricks, at least. She returned her attention to the front of the store and took aim at the man in the white suit. Except that while Sunset had been concentrating on not getting blown up, her opponent had grabbed the shopkeeper, hauled him over the counter, and was now using him as a human shield, with one black-gloved hand tight around the old man's throat.

"You got some neat tricks, kid," the man in white acknowledged, "but I'm afraid this is where we part ways, unless you want to shoot the hostage for your shot at bringing me in."

Sunset snorted. "Tempting, but I'm not so lost to honour yet." Besides, that would look really good when I got to Beacon, wouldn't it? The faunus who goes around shooting shopkeepers.

He laughed. "That sense of righteousness is why guys like me will always get away from guys like you. See you around, baconhair."

Baconhair? My hair does not look like bacon! My hair looks like fire! Like the flames of the majestic phoenix! Let go of that hostage and then call me baconhair again.

Sunset bared her teeth as she stalked around the ruined counter, Sol Invictus trained on the man in white.

"Ah ah ah," he said, as he himself retreated with his shield towards the door. "That's close enough, unless you want grandpa here to get his neck snapped."

Sunset froze, but kept her gun trained on the man as he fumbled awkwardly with the cane in his free hand to open the door and retreat out into the street. Sunset sidestepped towards the broken window, so that she could see what he could see when he got outside: all three of his remaining guys had been taken out. The architect of their defeat was a diminutive little girl, with rose red tips to her short black hair, wearing a black blouse and matching skirt while a long crimson cape dangled almost to the ground behind her.

She was wielding the biggest weapon that Sunset had yet come across in her training, a scythe that was between half again and twice as big as she was, and looking all the more intimidating for the blood red colour in which she'd painted most of it. The tip of the blade was buried in the tarmac as the girl pointed the shaft like a spear towards the man in white.

"I see you guys were worth every lien," the man in white muttered, observing his unconscious minions on the ground.

"Let him go!" the girl demanded in an incongruously high-pitched and squeaky voice.

"Let him go? Sure thing, Red, I'll let him go once I'm on my way out of here," the man in white replied. "Until then, if I see either of you two take one step," he half turned back to Sunset, his one eye – the other was concealed beneath his ginger bangs – flickering towards her, "if I feel anything touch my aura then I'll-"

He turned to the pale little girl, his back to Sunset. And as his back was turned, Sunset teleported.

Since she came to this world, where she seemed to be the only being in it who possessed any magic, she had mostly restricted her use of it to a combination of energy blasts and shields that she could pass off as her semblance. Teleportation was of a different order altogether, but if she didn’t do it now, then she was going to lose this guy, and she wasn’t willing to let that happen just so she could keep hiding her light under a bushel.

Better make this count.

Sunset disappeared with a crack and a flash of green light, reappearing in that same instant, one foot off the ground, Sol Invictus reversed in her hands, and right behind the man in the white suit.

Sunset growled wordlessly as she swung her rifle at him like a bat, cracking him with the butt across the side of the head before he realised what was happening. He grunted in pain, staggering sideways, and as he staggered, he lost his grip on the old man.

There was a blur of red, and suddenly, the air was filled with falling rose petals, petals trailing across the road like drops of blood; for a moment, Sunset felt an icy grip in her stomach. Had he just cut the shopkeeper’s throat? Had she just gotten a man killed? But it was the girl, the girl with the crimson cape, moving faster than Sunset's eye could follow to cross the distance between them and wrap one arm around the shopkeeper's stick-thin waist. She slowed down to avoid slamming into the shop front. A slight smile played upon her round, pale face as she volleyed off the brick exterior of the dust store to change direction, bearing the shopkeeper down the street and depositing him safely on the sidewalk.

Sunset landed on her feet, reversing Sol Invictus once more to fire her remaining three rounds at the man in white before he could recover. His aura didn't break, but he kept on staggering sideways with every bullet that slammed into him, clutching his side and grunting in pain.

Out of bullets, Sunset prepared to let him have it with the bayonet.

"Look out!" cried the girl in black and red with the high-pitched voice.

Sunset didn't have time to react, nor did she see where the attack came from; all she knew was that suddenly someone was kicking her hard enough to make her double over as she felt her aura drop noticeably . Someone kicked her again, in the chin this time, and she winced in pain as she flew through the air to land on her back in the middle of the road.

She heard a pair of barking, high-pitched gunshots.

Sunset looked up to see that the man in white had been joined by a young girl wearing a white jacket over a corset and boots. She was also holding a parasol and smirking in a rather irritating manner.

"Perfect timing as always," the man in the white suit said. He tipped his hat to Sunset and the other girl. "Ladies."

"You won't get away!" cried the girl in the red cape as she leapt for the pair, her enormous scythe swinging. The oversized blade struck the two, who shattered like glass into shards that tumbled to the ground before they disappeared into nothing.

"Huh?" the girl whispered, as a Bullhead rose into the night sky and began to fly away over the rooftops of Vale. "Did…did they just get away?"

"So it would seem." The reply came not from Sunset, but from the middle-aged woman with pale blonde hair currently stalking down the street towards them, her high heels tapping on the tarmac of the road. She paused, as if she was allowing the sound of rapidly approaching police sirens to reach their ears. "If we're lucky, the police will be able to intercept them in the air. In the meantime, the pair of you have some explaining to do."

Sunset sat in an interrogation room at the nearest precinct of the Vale Police Department. Once more, she found herself waiting, drumming her fingers upon a surface while she waited upon the convenience of someone else.

I know I left the place in kind of a mess, but come on! That was hardly my fault.

She glanced at the one-way mirror on the right-hand side of the room and wondered if anyone was watching her through it. She kept her expression blank, or tried to. She didn't want anyone who might be watching to think that she was rattled by all this.

The door opened, and a man Sunset would have recognised from his place in the history books even if she’d never met him before walked in. He was a tall old man, with an untidy mop of white hair sitting atop his head, dressed in a jacket, waistcoat, and scarf that ascended through progressively lighter shades of green. A pair of very small, round pince-nez sat near the bottom of his nose, and he leaned lightly upon a long wooden cane with an ornately decorated metal head. The Beacon admissions process had included an interview with the man, conducted via video-call. He had already held Sunset’s fate in his hands once; now, he might decide to withdraw his earlier offer and leave her...leave her no better off than she had been when she fled Equestria.

She tried to keep all of this behind her blank and neutral expression, but Sunset could not help but feel as though Professor Ozpin had divined it all regardless. She could only hope not.

Professor Ozpin smiled. "Good evening, Miss Shimmer. You must feel a very long way from home at this point."

Sunset blinked. What does he mean by that? It is true, I am a long way from Equestria, but he doesn't know that so what in Celestia's name is he talking about? "No further than any other student who comes to Beacon from Atlas, Professor," she said.

"No," Professor Ozpin murmured. "Indeed not. So many come such a long way. I only hope that we make it worth their while once they get here." He pulled up the chair on the other side of the table and sat down. "Most other students, however, whether they come from Atlas, Mistral, Vale, or even Vacuo, wait until they actually start school before they start to get into trouble."

"I think it's fairer to say that trouble found me in this instance, Professor," Sunset said. "Talk to the other girl; she'll tell you-"

"Yes, I've just been speaking to her," Professor Ozpin said. "I've also spoken to the owner of the establishment you…defended, after a fashion. I must confess that your initial conduct when the criminals first entered the store is a little...troubling."

Sunset's mouth felt suddenly very dry. She licked her lips. "I was waiting for the ideal moment, Professor."

"Indeed?" Professor Ozpin murmured. Sunset had the squirming feeling of being examined, as if he were pinning her beneath a microscope. She turned her head away, bowing it towards the floor so that he could no longer look into her eyes.

"You left the shopkeeper in a rather vulnerable position," he pointed out.

"I never said that I didn't have anything to learn, Professor," Sunset replied, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "Miss Shimmer," he said, "at Beacon Academy, we train huntsmen and huntresses. That is not the same as being a warrior or as merely possessing power and having been trained in its use. To be a huntress…is to embody the very highest virtues of mankind. To be a light in darkness, when all other lights go out."

I've heard variations on this speech before, and I didn't like where it led. When Princess Celestia had started talking like this, it was preparatory to telling Sunset that she was done. That couldn't be happening here, not again. She couldn't be about to be cast about before she'd even begun. This is my last chance. I cannot have squandered it already. Please, let fate have mercy. Sunset glanced at the headmaster. "Are you…are you telling me that my place at Beacon has been withdrawn?"

The smile returned to Professor Ozpin's face. "Do you know why the huntsman academies exist, Miss Shimmer, when so many of our students already arrive at our halls so very well trained, and so deadly?"

Sunset breathed in and out. "No, Professor."

"It is because the founders of the academies believed, as I do, that the virtues of a huntsman can be taught, to those who are willing to learn," Professor Ozpin explained. "Your place at my school is safe. I merely wished to make it plain what will be expected of you when you arrive." He got to his feet. "You are free to go, and I look forward to seeing you at Beacon for the start of Spring Semester. Best of luck, Miss Shimmer."

Ruby Rose waited outside of the police station, feeling bathed in light despite the darkness of the night sky.

Of course, that was partly because she was standing directly under a streetlight, but it was also so much more than that.

It was because her dreams were now one step closer to coming true.

All her life, ever since she’d been a little girl being read bedtime stories of heroes and monsters by Yang, Ruby had dreamed of becoming a huntress. Like the heroes in the books, like Dad, like Uncle Qrow...like Mom. Like Mom most of all.

Beacon was the next step on the road to achieving that goal, and thanks to Professor Ozpin, she was getting her chance two years early. It would be difficult, probably; almost certainly, it would be difficult. But Yang would be there, and with the help of her big sister, Ruby was certain that she would be able to get through it.

She wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way. She would become a huntress, no matter how hard the work was.

She just hoped that the other students at Beacon could accept her and not think of her either as some kid in over her head or as some sort of special prodigy they needed to stay out of the way of.

She wanted to go to Beacon and learn to become a huntress with all her heart, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to spend her four years there hived off from all her fellow students.

That was why, as much as she wanted to rush off and tell Yang the good news right this instant, she was waiting out here for the other girl who had fought beside her. It wasn’t just to say thank you; it was also because Ruby hoped that having someone besides Yang that she knew once she got to Beacon might make things just a little easier.

The doors to the police station opened, and the other girl stepped out into the night. She was a horse faunus, with pointy equine ears rising out of her hair and a two-tone tail of red and gold descending down towards the ground; Ruby knew that there were faunus who had two animal traits instead of one, but they were really rare, and she’d never actually met one before. The girl’s hair was the same colour as her tail, streaks of red and gold so that it almost looked as though her hair and tail were on fire. Her eyes were large and green and dominated her face far more than her mouth or her tiny nose. She wore a black leather jacket with a studded collar over a purple top with a blazing sun – half red and half gold, just like her hair – emblazoned on the chest, and a short skirt of mostly orange, with purple and pale yellow stripes over a pair of blue jeans. She was holding a rifle with an integrated bayonet attached in her right hand. Her boots made thumping noises on the ground as she descended the stone steps from the police station down to street level.

Ruby took a step forward into the light spilling out of the station. "Hey," she said. "Thanks for your help back there."

The other girl smiled smugly, and preened at her hair with her left hand. “You’re very welcome. It was the least I could do,” she declared, in a weird tone of voice that Ruby couldn’t quite put a name too. It was like she was trying to sound humble...but at the same time, she also sounded really smug.

“It’s a pity that we couldn’t catch that guy,” Ruby continued, “but at least we saved the old man’s life; that’s the most important thing. That, and we stopped the OH MY GOSH!" Ruby cried as her eyes slid from the other girl's face to the gun she was holding in her right hand.

The other girl took a step away from Ruby and the look of eagerness upon her face. "What?"

"Is that a revolver rifle?"

The other girl's eyes narrowed. She shifted her grip on her gun a little. "Yeees," she said, drawing out the word just a little more than it warranted.

"That is so cool! You almost never see that any more! Six shots in the cylinder or five?

"Six."

"Double action or single?"

"Double, of course."

“And the calibre...let me guess…” Ruby narrowed her eyes, studying the size of the weapon. “.223?”

“How did you know that?”

“I’m...kind of a dork about weapons.” Ruby closed the distance between them in an instant; she ran her small, pale hands over the walnut stock. "Why did you use wood for the stock?"

"Because I wanted something heavy enough to brain a grimm with if I needed to," the other girl explained. "Plus…I kinda like the classic look." Her thumb ran over the image of the sun – matching the symbol on her top – that she had carved into the wood.

"Oh. Yeah, totally, not enough people appreciate the classics," Ruby said with a laugh, as she suddenly became worried that she'd offended the other girl with the implication that her weapon was old-fashioned. Well, it was old-fashioned, but that didn't mean that it didn't work. She spotted a canister of some kind mounted just above the trigger guard. "Hey, what does this do?"

The other girl yanked the gun away Ruby before she could set it off. "That causes the bayonet to extend outwards an additional three feet so that-"

"So you can use it as a spear! Obviously!" Ruby squealed. "And that means there's gas in the canister, right?"

"Compressed air."

"And I guess that there's some kind of locking mechanism in place to prevent it being pushed back in when it hits something."

"Of course."

"That is so cool!" Ruby cried. "What's her name? Did you make it yourself? How long have you had her?"

"Its name is Sol Invictus, and I've had it for a couple of years now. I…had the parts made to my specifications, then I assembled them personally."

"Aww," Ruby sighed with undisguised disappointment. "I kind of feel as though you ought to craft all the parts yourself, you know?" She produced her beloved Crescent Rose from behind her, and with a flick of a button, her beauty unfolded itself like, well, a rose. Every hiss, every click was music of Ruby's ears, her precious baby revealing itself in all its glory, a perfect blending of her soul and her skill. "Meet my Crescent Rose," Ruby declared proudly. "A high-impact sniper rifle with a twelve round magazine…and it's also a scythe, obviously."

The other girl's eyebrows scaled her head. "You…you machined all the parts for that yourself?"

"Yup. All students at Signal forge their own weapons."

"Signal should throw in the towel for combat training and focus on producing engineers," the other girl muttered.

"Well, they're not all…I did kind of…I'm kind of a dork when it comes to weapons." She held out her hand once more. "I'm Ruby, Ruby Rose."

The other girl stared at her hand for a moment before she reached out and took it. "Sunset Shimmer."

"Pleased to meet you," Ruby said, folding up Crescent Rose and putting it away behind her. "So, what happened to you in there?"

"Nothing," Sunset said.

"You were in there after I was done," Ruby said. "Something must have happened."

Sunset paused. "Let me clarify," she said. "Nothing happened that I want to discuss with you. Or anybody else."

"Oh, right," Ruby said quietly. Great, now she'd gone and said completely the wrong thing. "Um, so, are you a Beacon student, too?"

Sunset had already turned away from Ruby and took her first steps as she began to answer. "Sort of, I start my first year in a few days.”

“Ooh, me too!” Ruby cried. “Professor Ozpin let me in just now, after tonight!”

Sunset blinked. “You mean...he wasn’t going to let you in before?”

“Well, I mean…” Ruby hesitated for a moment, wishing that she hadn’t invited this line of questioning. “I am...only...fifteen,” she admitted, pushing her fingers together as she waited to see how Sunset would react.

“Fifteen,” Sunset repeated. Her jaw clenched, for a moment, and something flashed in her eyes. “That’s...lucky you,” she said.

“I know,” Ruby cheered. “I still can’t believe it! This has been my dream, well, it’s been a part of my dream, for...for as long as I’ve had one.”

Sunset stared down at Ruby, without saying anything. She stepped a little farther out of the light spilling from the police station, and a little further into the darkness between the street lights. “Your dream, huh?”

Ruby nodded. “To become a huntress and help protect the world from all the dangers and the monsters.”

Sunset’s eyes were the most visible thing about her now. Green eyes burning in the darkness. She sighed, and her voice when it came was melancholy, like a flower caught by a sudden frost. “Then I hope...that you’re not disappointed when you wake up,” she said. “Good luck to you, Ruby Rose. I’ll see you around.” She turned on her heel and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Ruby cried. "Where are you going?"

Sunset stopped, looking back at Ruby over her shoulder. "Back to my motel room."

"You don't have to," Ruby said. "I was just going to go and find my big sister, Yang; she's starting at Beacon this year too. Afterwards, we could…I don't know, get something to eat? Celebrate?"

Sunset said nothing for a moment, and for that moment, Ruby thought, hoped, that she would take Ruby up on that offer. “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ll pass. Later.” She resumed her walk away from Ruby.

"See you around, Sunset Shimmer," Ruby replied, waving to Sunset's retreating back. Her voice dropped as she added, "It was nice meeting you."

Author's Note

So, the first of the brand new chapters added for the rewrite, with different first meetings with Ozpin and Ruby for Sunset. Having Sunset meet Ruby sooner was the whole point of this as I want foreground their relationship a bit more than currently, where it kind of gets lost in the shuffle.

Reconnaissance (Rewritten)

Reconnaissance

Sunset Shimmer stood at the window of the majestic skyliner as it soared through the sky, looking down at the Vale skyline as it passed over the city towards Beacon Academy.

The cold grey towers rose above the city streets to meet the sky, like spears lancing upwards out of the ground in a futile attempt to impale the belly of the airship that soared slowly and gracefully above them. Old towers of brick and tile with spires and capped roofs, flat and square modern towers of glass and steel, both rose above the old brick streets and the new modern apartment blocks. The skyliner flew above them one and all, casting a shadow as it passed over the Kingdom of Vale. Out of the window, Sunset could see another skyliner running parallel to their course, and for a moment, she thought that it, too, might be headed to Beacon, but then it veered off, heading for a different destination. A commercial dockyard in the city perhaps.

Sunset’s tail twitched back and forth as she waited with a degree of well-concealed – apart from the tail, maybe – impatience for this ship, moving slowly as it was for all its grace in motion, to reach their destination: Beacon Academy.

Relax, Sunset. Semester isn’t going to start without you.

But she had waited so long for this. Four years of grubbing at Canterlot to reach this place. She had endured Rainbow Dash’s mockery, Twilight Sparkle’s patronising faux-compassion, and those awful grating accents of Rarity and Applejack. She had put up with mistreatment, insult, betrayal, she had borne it all as the price that she was happy to pay to reach this place at this moment.

This was the place where everything would start to change. The place where she would claim her destiny, at last.

She hoped.

A note of disquiet entered into Sunset’s triumphalist thoughts, chilling her heart and stopping the motion of her tail in its tracks. Could she be sure of that? Could she be certain that everything would get better for her from here on out?

She considered where she was: the Kingdom of Vale. It was not as technologically advanced or militarily mighty as the Kingdom of Atlas, not as old and proud as the Kingdom of Mistral, not as wild and untamed as the Kingdom of Vacuo. It sat in the middle of the four kingdoms of Remnant in every way, unremarkable for anything except its claim to moral leadership, born out of the sacrifices of the Great War. Beacon Academy resided in Vale, and Vale itself was a beacon of light to the rest of Remnant. Sunset had chosen Beacon in part because she had not fancied four more years of Atlesian discipline, in part because Beacon-trained huntsmen were largely acknowledged as the best in the four kingdoms, and in part because the Kingdom of Vale had a more progressive reputation than either Mistral or Atlas when it came to faunus rights.

After what had happened in the dust shop, Sunset was having cause to wonder if appearances might be deceptive.

That was just one man, and an old man at that. I didn’t let Princess Celestia stop me; I’m certainly not going to be balked in my quest by one old man who owns a dust shop.

This is my last chance. I will take it and carry it all the way.

Sunset was meant to become a huntress. She had felt that ever since she had first learned about the creatures of grimm. The only alternative in this world was to become some small and meek, unmeritable thing, a person of little worth, one amongst multitudes. She could have stayed in Equestria if she had wanted such a fate. Only as a huntress would she achieve the renown that she sought, and only at Beacon could she become a huntress.

So she would succeed here, no matter the obstacles that confronted her; she would succeed because the only alternative was failure, and she would not allow herself to fail.

“Hey, Sunset!”

Sunset looked to her left. Ruby, the girl from the dust shop. The girl with the silver eyes. Sunset had noticed them on the night they met, when Ruby had accosted her outside of the police station; they had been an intriguing sight then, in the dark of the night, and they turned out to be no less intriguing now in broad daylight aboard this well-lit skyliner. Sunset had never seen anything quite like them before, neither in Remnant nor even in Equestria. It was strange that she should have something so unique.

That interest didn’t particularly extend to wanting to spend time with the other girl. Sunset shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as she half turned towards Ruby, who stood beaming up at her. “Ruby, right?”

“Uh huh,” Ruby said, nodding eagerly. She looked out of the window. “Isn’t this amazing?”

Sunset glanced out of the window once more, as the heart of Vale continued to pass by beneath them. “I…have seen more impressive cities,” she said casually. After all, she had been born and raised in Canterlot of the golden spires, the heart of Equestria and the seat of Princess Celestia herself. She had flown on a pegasus chariot above that gleaming city, circling the mountain as the golden spires glimmered and the white towers shone like pearl and silver in the morning sunlight. She had stood upon the balcony and seen the banners caught high in the morning breeze as Princess Celestia bid the sun to rise.

Compared to that, the Kingdom of Vale could not help but seem ever so slightly banal by comparison.

“More impressive,” Ruby repeated. “You mean…Atlas?”

“Something like that,” Sunset muttered. She glanced at Ruby. “How did you know I was from Atlas?”

Ruby shrugged. “Lucky guess,” she replied. Her gaze and attention were fixed upon the city below them. “All the same,” she continued. “Vale might not be the greatest kingdom in the world, but this view…it’s still pretty cool.”

“Really?” Sunset said, in a flat, disinterested tone of voice. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s full of people,” Ruby declared. “The people we’re going to fight to defend when we graduate and become huntresses.”

Sunset was spared the need to reply to that by a voice saying, “Aww, look, you made a friend!”

“Yang!” Ruby cried. “This is Sunset Shimmer, the girl who fought with me at the dust shop! Sunset, this is-“

“Yang Xiao Long,” Yang said, holding out one hand towards Sunset and putting the other on Ruby’s shoulder. “This little hero’s big sister.”

Yang Xiao Long was a little taller than Sunset herself, and broader in the shoulders. Her hair was spun gold, and although it was not nearly as vibrant in colour as Sunset’s two-toned flaming mane, it nevertheless looked better cared for. Her eyes were purple and twinkled jovially as she smiled.

Sunset drew her hands from her pockets but did not take Yang’s hand. “Xiao Long? Not Rose?”

“It’s complicated,” Yang said. She wiggled her fingers. “You gonna leave me hanging out here?”

Sunset took her hand without another word. Yang had a firm grip.

“So,” Yang said. “You’re the Sunset Shimmer I’ve heard about.”

Sunset smirked. “That depends on what you’ve heard.”

Yang chuckled. “Thanks for having her back,” she said. “I almost had a heart attack when I found out what happened. Although,” the arm around Ruby’s shoulder turned into one around Ruby’s neck, “it does mean that I get to have my little sister at Beacon with me!”

“Sunset…help!” Ruby gasped, in between choking sounds.

Sunset snorted. “You’re on your own for this one,” she said, turning away from the pair of them and leaving them to it. As she walked away, she caught the end of a news item about the dust shop robbery, which didn’t mention either Sunset or, indeed, Ruby; it was more interested in the fact that the perpetrator, one Roman Torchwick by name, had escaped arrest.

Roman Torchwick. I don’t know if I want to remember that name or forget about it.

I don’t like the fact that he got away from me, but let’s be honest: he’s a crook in a big city. There’s no way that I’ll be seeing him again.

Another news item – about the White Fang living down to their reputation – was interrupted by a hologram of the severe bespectacled woman who had accosted Sunset and Ruby outside of the dust shop.

“Hello,” she began, “and welcome to Beacon.”

The journey to Beacon of Pyrrha Nikos could so far be described as uneventful and rather lonely.

She had travelled from Mistral to Vale aboard a commercial skyliner; her mother had booked one of the first class staterooms for her, and after the first night of dining in the restaurant while people gawked at her, Pyrrha had gotten into the habit of taking her meals in her room. Said room was large enough that she could devote her time to a mild training while the airship carried her across the ocean and over the wild east of Sanus that had lain unclaimed by any kingdom since the end of the Great War. Nothing of any consequence had happened during the flight, unless one counted a chance encounter with a patrolling Atlesian cruiser that had kept them company for a couple of days before resuming its regular duties. She had arrived in Vale, where a room at the Hotel Majestic was waiting for her, also courtesy of her mother, until the term officially began. She had gotten the chance to see The Mistralian Opera Ghost, the new musical by Autumn Blaze, performed at the Theatre Royal, which had been a very entertaining diversion, but other than that, it had been a tale of somewhat luxurious monotony.

The luxury was less pleasant here – not to say that this skyliner was uncomfortable; it was simply…a little plain – but the loneliness was even more pronounced.

These were her comrades, or her future comrades; these would be her fellow students here at Beacon.

So why did she feel as alone as ever here?

Possibly it was the fact that she could hear someone whispering about her, and when she looked around, she could see that the young man in question – he had long, silver-grey hair falling straight down on either side of his sharp, narrow face – wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact that he was pointing at her, too; how rude of him.

Pyrrha turned away and felt her head bow a little without intending it too. She had hoped that in Vale, people would be less interested in the Mistral tournament circuit. Apparently, she had been mistaken.

The news item, about a disgraceful disruption to a peaceful civil rights protest by the White Fang, was interrupted suddenly. The news feed cut off to be replaced by a hologram of an older woman with pale blonde hair, wearing a white blouse, a black waistcoat and a ragged purple cape, with half-moon spectacles set on the edge of her nose below a pair of vivid green eyes.

“Hello,” she said, “and welcome to Beacon. My name is Professor Glynda Goodwitch, and as Deputy Headmistress, it is my privilege to welcome you to this prestigious Academy.”

No, Professor, Pyrrha thought. It is we who are honoured by the opportunity to study at your feet.

“You are among an elite few who have received the honour of being selected to attend this hallowed institution,” Professor Goodwitch continued. “You have come from all four kingdoms of Remnant, a fact made possible by the unprecedented time of peace in which we are blessed to live, and as future huntsmen and huntresses, it will one day be your duty to defend that peace and the realms of men with it.”

Pyrrha felt her back straighten. Yes. She could not lose sight of that fact. She had come to Beacon hoping to escape, in some part, her reputation and all that it had cost her, but she could never allow herself to forget that she was also here to train in arms at the most celebrated institution for that task in the four kingdoms. It might be that her four years here were doomed to loneliness and isolation, but nevertheless, she would become a huntress and throw herself a shield between mankind and the darkness that surrounded it.

“You have demonstrated the courage and skill needed for such a task,” Professor Goodwitch said, “and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world and fulfil the heavy charge to which you have dedicated yourselves.”

Pyrrha closed her eyes. I will fulfil it. No matter the cost. I will not disgrace myself, or the noble line of my ancestors, by turning from this path or failing to attain this goal.

I will become a huntress or die trying.

Shortly thereafter, the airship docked at the edge of the cliffs that rose above the river that cut through the heart of Vale on its way from the mountains to the sea. Pyrrha was in no particular hurry to disembark, so she politely waited for many of the other students to dismount from the airship first before she crossed the metal walkway, her boots echoing a little upon the dark surface that was all that stood between her and a very long drop, onto the docking pad.

Beacon rose above her in the middle distance, a fair walk but a far from insurmountable one. So far from insurmountable, in fact, that she felt in even less hurry to hasten any closer towards it than she had to get off the airship; she was confident she could reach the campus swiftly if she wished to. For now, Pyrrha indulged herself in soaking the sight of the place from a little further away.

It was a grand campus, and although she hadn't measured it, Pyrrha could not help but feel that it was much larger than Haven, or perhaps it was fairer to say that it sprawled more, benefiting from a position just outside the city, rather than nestling in the midst of crowded Mistral as Haven did. Beacon Tower was taller, or seemed so; it rose majestically into the clouds above until only the green lights at the very top shone through the cloud cover.

A true beacon indeed, Pyrrha thought. A light of hope to illuminate the darkness for all mankind.

All four academies did good work on behalf of humanity, but it was hard for Pyrrha to avoid the impression that Beacon – the first to be founded and still the best of the four academies – embodied most within its very stones what it meant to be a huntress.

So many great warriors have walked these halls, and each have left a little of their souls behind them here, to inspire those who came after.

Pyrrha was distracted from these musings by an explosion on the path up ahead, which alarmed her enough she reached over her back for Miló, wondering why nobody else seemed to be so alarmed, before spotting the source: some form of dust accident, loud but otherwise largely harmless.

Pyrrha was not sure whether the fact that no one else had reacted to the bang suggested that she was too jumpy or all her fellow freshmen were too complacent; for the sake of her future comrades, she decided to think less of herself: there had never been a reason to panic. This was Beacon, the light in darkness, the heart of their strength; there was no way that any true peril could penetrate the defences of the world to trouble them here.

Nevertheless, releasing her weapon and feeling grateful that she hadn't actually drawn it, Pyrrha made her way with a brisk pace over to the source of commotion. She recognised Weiss Schnee immediately; they had never met, but her music was as popular in Mistral as it was anywhere else in Remnant. Arslan had used "It's My Turn" as her music to emerge into the arena during the final of last year's tournament; it had turned out to be…less than appropriate, unfortunately. The Schnee heiress was haranguing a girl of about the same height as herself, dressed mostly in black, with a long red cape falling almost to the floor. Around them both lay scattered various cases marked with the snowflake emblem of the SDC, which appeared to have fallen from a trolley being pushed by a pair of slightly older men in suits.

"You complete and utter blockhead!" Weiss snapped as the other girl recoiled a little from her accusatory finger. "What are you even doing here? Don't you think-?"

"Is everything alright?" Pyrrha asked, as she approached. "I, uh, couldn't help but notice the explosion from just a moment ago."

Weiss looked at her, and Pyrrha guessed that Weiss had recognised her in the same way that she had recognised Weiss. "No, everything is most certainly not alright," Weiss declared. "This child has snuck her way onto the grounds and almost caused a terrible accident."

"I-I'm sorry," the other girl protested.

Weiss folded her arms. "Honestly, I think it's disgraceful. This isn't just your ordinary combat school, you know. This is Beacon Academy-"

"I'm sure she's well aware of that," Pyrrha said, quietly but firmly, "and as it seems there was no harm done, and she has already apologised, then perhaps the gracious thing to do would be to accept her apology."

Weiss stared – or rather glared – at Pyrrha. Her jaw clenched momentarily. "Apology accepted," she spat, the words sounding as though they had been wrenched out of her throat with forceps. She turned and stomped away, the heavy tread of her wedge heels echoing as they slammed into the cobblestones of the path.

Pyrrha bent down and picked up one of the fallen cases of dust. "Here, let me help you," she said to the two men in suits, who nodded as she helped them to gather up all of the discarded cases and pile them back up onto the trolley which they, once more, began to push away in the direction to the school.

"Hey, I'm Jaune."

Pyrrha looked around. It appeared that while she had been assisting the SDC employees with gathering up all of the dust, the girl in the red cloak had sunk to the ground in dejected misery, in which state someone else had approached her. Her rescuer was a tall young man, dressed in gleaming white armour over a dark hooded top, with faded blue jeans and ordinary trainers; his hair was long and blond and soft-looking, and he had…he had the most striking pair of blue eyes, set in a fair face.

As Pyrrha looked at him, holding out his hand to the girl on the ground, she thought that for all the misery of her expression, this other girl was really very lucky.

As she looked at this gallant young man, for Pyrrha Nikos, everything else fell away. Beacon Academy melted into the river. Vale collapsed into nothingness. The girl in the red hood fell into the void, for there was nothing left for Pyrrha but those eyes.

Look at those eyes!

Surely...surely, she had strayed into a dream. Surely, this could not be real. Surely...surely, this wasn’t happening to her.

Pyrrha understood it now. She understood all those fairy tales. She understood how the boy could keep going into the woods, year after year, to search for the elusive warrior who dwelt there. She understood how the King could put his crown aside for the old woman. She understood the mermaid willing to give up her whole world for a prince. She understood them all because, at this moment, all that she wanted to do was sweep this young man up in her arms and carry him to Mistral, install him in her grand house and squander every last lien she had on making him happy.

Just look at those eyes. I feel as though I could drown in them.

The hooded girl reached up and placed one small, pale hand into Jaune's palm. "Ruby," she said, "and this is, uh-" She turned to Pyrrha, and then stopped expectantly.

Pyrrha said nothing; she was too enthralled to speak, too lost in fascination, too-

“Uh, is everything okay?” asked Ruby.

“Oh, y-yes!” Pyrrha cried quickly, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. "Pyrrha," she added quickly, not giving her surname as it sunk in, rather thrillingly, that neither of them knew who she was. "My name is Pyrrha. It's a pleasure to meet you. Both of you."

Jaune looked into her eyes. His eyes narrowed just a little, and he tilted his head ever so slightly to one side. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Once upon a dream? "I...I...I wouldn't know," Pyrrha replied disingenuously. "I'm not sure how," she added, hoping that the lie wouldn't show on her face. "I don't believe we've met before."

"No, " Jaune said. "I guess…I don't know what I was thinking."

"Thanks for your help back there," Ruby said. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Of course not," Pyrrha said kindly. "Although…I must confess, you do look rather young to be attending Beacon."

Ruby bowed her head, murmuring something indistinct.

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha added quickly. "I didn't mean to…what I meant to say was that you have a very youthful face."

"No," Ruby moaned. "I…I'm only fifteen years old. I'm here two years early."

"What, like to visit?" Jaune asked.

"I think what Ruby means is that she was admitted to the academy two years early," Pyrrha clarified.

Jaune's handsome blue eyes widened. "Really? Two years early! You must be a complete badass to have done that!"

Pyrrha might not have used those exact words, but she was inclined to agree. Early admission to the academies was very rare; so rare, in fact, that she couldn't think of a single Mistralian warrior to win the honour. Ruby must have impressed someone very important a great deal.

However, she did not seem pleased to receive Jaune's praise. "This is just what I was afraid of. Everyone's going to think I'm just some stupid kid, or they're going to think I'm special."

"But it sounds like you are special,” Jaune pointed out.

"But that doesn't mean I have to want to be!" Ruby cried. "What if I want to be just like everyone, just…"

"Normal," Pyrrha finished for her.

Ruby looked at her. "Yeah. How did you-"

Pyrrha knelt down, so that she and Ruby were at more of a height. "I understand that you want to be seen for who you are, not what you are, but at the same time, to deny the tremendous skill that has carried you this far is to deny a part of who you are, for your skill in battle is a part of yourself, and a worthy part at that. And you know that, don't you? Or did somebody force you to attend Beacon?"

Ruby's eyes – her striking eyes of silver, gleaming like pools of mercury – locked with Pyrrha's own. A smile tugged at Ruby's lips. "No. I chose to be here. I want to become a huntress, and the quicker I can get to Beacon, the quicker I can graduate and get out there and start playing my part." She paused. "Sorry," she said. "That sounded a little-"

"It sounded very brave, and fitting of a huntress in training," Pyrrha assured her. She rose to her feet, and looked from Ruby to Jaune. "For what are we here for, save to place our bodies between humanity and the dark?"

Jaune nodded. "Just like the ones who came before us. It's our turn now."

"Agreed," Pyrrha said. She looked around. It appeared that while they had been standing here, the crowd off the airship had moved on around them and without them. They were the last people in sight. Everyone else had headed towards the school. "We should probably get moving," Pyrrha suggested.

The other two agreed, and the three of them set off down the path towards the school, Ruby in between Jaune and Pyrrha as they passed beneath the stone arches that encircled the great courtyard. The architecture was not as modern as Pyrrha had been expecting; in Mistral, many buildings were consciously old-fashioned in design, but she had not thought that that would be the case in Vale, and yet, Beacon Academy was fashioned as the creation of an earlier age, the towers seemed like something out of a storybook. It was really quite charming.

Pyrrha realised that she had allowed herself to get distracted by that thought and missed what Ruby and Jaune had just said. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just…what were you saying?"

"Nothing," Jaune said quickly, before Ruby could respond. "Just, uh, nothing at all."

"We were discussing nicknames," Ruby supplied.

"Which we don't need," Jaune insisted. "The name's Jaune. Just Jaune. Well, okay, it's actually Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue, ladies love it."

Pyrrha giggled a little, covering her mouth with one hand as Ruby asked, "Do they?"

I don't know if I love it, Pyrrha thought, but it's certainly quite pleasant to the ear.

"Well, I, uh…" Jaune trailed off. "So, Pyrrha, what were you spacing out about?"

"Oh, nothing," Pyrrha replied. "I was just admiring the scenery."

"It is pretty cool," Ruby agreed. "Like a fairytale castle or something."

"Huh. I wouldn't have thought about it like that, but now that you mention it…yeah, I can see it," Jaune agreed. "Pretty appropriate really: a place of gallant knights, brave heroes, and beautiful princesses."

Ruby looked at him. "Are you saying the princesses can't be as brave as the heroes?"

"No!" Jaune protested. "I'm just saying…so, Ruby, just how did you get into Beacon early anyway?"

"Oh, you know, I just saw somebody in trouble and tried to help," Ruby replied, without really explaining anything. "Me and my Crescent Rose were able to do some good, and, I guess Professor Ozpin took notice."

"'Crescent Rose,'" Pyrrha repeated. "Is that the name of your weapon?"

"Yep," Ruby said, as she produced from behind her back what looked at first like a squat, boxy red carbine, before it unfolded with a series of mechanical clicks and hydraulic hisses into a scythe with a shaft taller than Ruby herself.

Jaune stared at it. "That…is that a scythe?"

"And a sniper rifle," Ruby said proudly. "What about you guys?"

In a series of well-practiced, fluid motions, Pyrrha drew Miló from across her back and then pulled Akoúo̱ onto her other arm. "Akoúo̱, my shield," she declared. "It's exactly what it looks like, but Miló can switch from spear-" the weapon shifted smoothly in her hands – "-to sword-"- another transformation- "-to rifle." Miló shifted one more time, back to spear form.

"Triple changer," Ruby whispered, awestruck. "And so fluid."

"Those are both so cool," Jaune said, sounding a little dispirited. "All I have is, well, this sword." He drew the blade from his scabbard. "It doesn't do anything, it's just a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it to fight in the war."

"Sounds more like a family heirloom," Ruby said.

"I guess," Jaune said. "But, well, compared with what you two are carrying around…" He glanced down at his venerable blade with a degree of undisguised disappointment.

Pyrrha's brow furrowed a little. "May I?" she asked, holding out both hands.

"Uh, sure," Jaune said, handing over the sword, laying it atop her gloved palms.

Pyrrha looked down and studied it. There was a little rust coating the blade; it didn't look as though it had been terribly well maintained in the years since Jaune's great-great grandfather, but at the same time, rust could always be cleaned off to reveal the true steel underneath. She closed her fingers around the hilt and felt the balance of it. It was a well-balanced blade, very well balanced, in fact. She stepped away from Ruby and Jaune so that she would swing the sword around a little more easily, passing readily from stance to stance, the sword singing in her hands.

She smiled slightly as she handed the blade back to a rather awed-looking Jaune. "It could do with a little cleaning," she informed him gently, "but that is a fine blade, Jaune Arc. You should bear it proudly."

Jaune continued to stare at her in disbelief. "R-right," he said, taking the sword and shoving it back into its scabbard. “Oh, and I’ve also got this sheath, too; it turns into a shield.” Said shield unfurled like a banner with a popping sound, displaying a crest of two golden crescents emblazoned upon it. “It still weighs the same, but-”

“But compactness counts for a lot out in the field, too,” Ruby assured him. “That’s why Crescent Rose has its carbine mode.”

Eventually, they made their way to the amphitheatre, where they found most of the student body was already assembled and waiting for their instructions. With a cry of "Yang!" Ruby quickly sped off towards a girl with long hair of vivid yellow who waved excitedly to her.

"I suppose it's just you and me then," Pyrrha said to Jaune, only to realise that he was wandering off as well, in the direction of Weiss Schnee, without a second glance at her.

"Oh. I suppose it's just me then," Pyrrha murmured. And yet, all the same, she was not as disheartened as she might have been at having been so quickly and so easily abandoned.

Neither of them had known who she was. Neither of them had even connected the name of Pyrrha to Pyrrha Nikos, the Champion of Mistral. She had simply been Pyrrha to them, and they had not rejected her.

And so, as she found a place to stand in the amphitheatre, Pyrrha thought of a pair of handsome blue eyes and found that she had started humming to herself beneath her breath.

She didn't want to stop.

Sunset Shimmer stood in a corner of the great hall and watched her competition as they filed in.

She tried to, anyway. She had chosen a good vantage point in the back, equally far from the doors and the front, so that she could observe everybody without herself being observed. But this hall was so dimly lit, illuminated only by green lines around certain sections of the floor and wall, that most of the other aspiring hunters and huntresses walking in seemed more like shadows than people to her eyes. Seriously, couldn't they turn up the lights a little? She couldn't see a thing, just vague silhouettes in the half-light and the occasional flash of bright colour: the bright red of Ruby's cape; the vivid yellow of Yang's hair; the shining white dress of Weiss Schnee, Atlas' very own princess.

And then he walked in. She recognised him, even in the dark. She'd recognise that blue hair anywhere, combined with that stupid clueless grin and the walk of someone who thought he was much cooler than he actually was. Sunset's breath caught in her throat as he started to come towards her. She both did and didn't want him to spot her. Did she really want to do this now? But wasn't it better to get it over with rather than spend four years looking over her shoulder for the other shoe to drop? Anger and apprehension warred within her like dragons of fire and ice, lighting her stomach up with righteous wrath and freezing it with fear in cycles of ebb and flow.

He didn't recognise her. Or perhaps he was just as blind as everyone else in this dimly lit hall, and he couldn't see her properly. Whichever it was, for whatever reason, he turned his back on her.

"You." The word leapt from between Sunset's lips before she could stop it; the affront – unintentional or not – of him showing his back to her was too much to stand for. By Celestia, there was no way she was going to let him go his way in blissful ignorance while she had to feel awkward about this! If she was going to feel awkward, then so would he!

Flash Sentry turned around, his initial look of puzzlement transforming into a look of shock that Sunset could appreciate more. "Sunset, uh, hi," he said in a tone that sounded less ‘cool’ and more ‘desperately trying to play it cool’; the way he was scratching the back of his head didn't help in that regard. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Sunset folded her arms. "Yeah? I bet you weren't."

Flash scowled. "For your information, Sunset, not everyone is obsessed with what you do or don't do."

"What, did you think I was going to go to Atlas?" Sunset demanded. "Why didn't you go to Atlas? You could join the military and let your mother get you a nice, safe job opening doors for VIPs."

Flash's expression was as flat as an anvil. "My mother doesn't own me, Sunset, any more than you do. Not that it's any of your business, but I decided to come to Beacon because I want to be the one who decides what good I do in the world and where I go to do it. I don't want to let anyone else decide that for me: not my mother, not even a good man like General Ironwood." He paused, and then added a last few venomous words. "And not you, either."

Sunset snorted. "Whatever." She looked away, casting her green eyes downwards towards the dark floor. "Just stay out of my way, okay? I'm not going to let anyone screw this up for me." My destiny is here. My entire life has been building to this place, this moment. If I can't make it here…then it was all a lie, and Celestia was right, and I was nothing more than a fool believing in fairy tales I should have outgrown a long time ago.

I won't let that happen. I won't let that be my fate.

I will succeed. I will shine. And I won't let my jackass ex-boyfriend get in my way.

Flash's tone simulated tenderness, as if he wanted her to believe that he cared or something. "Sunset…do we have to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fight like this? Can't we start over?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose as she waited for the punchline. There wasn't one. He was serious, or he wanted her to think that he was serious. She scoffed. "Really? Are you…really?"

"It's going to be pretty awkward otherwise, don't you think?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?" Sunset demanded. "You dumped me! You dumped me because your mother and your friends and that hypocritical hussy Twilight Sparkle made you ashamed of dating a faunus! You dumped me because it was easier than standing up for me, you jackass, and now, you want to start over!" She was halfway to shouting now, and a few people were starting to stare at them. Sunset didn't care. Let them stare; she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Flash, on the other hand, did look embarrassed; as well he might, since he had plenty to be ashamed of. "Sunset, please, don't do this. You know that's now how it went down."

Sunset was full of righteous indignation. She had so much that she wanted to say that the words were clogging up her throat and getting stuck there in their jostling to escape. Should she tell him that he'd been the one person in that school that she thought that she could trust, the one person who'd stand up for her against the bullies and the bigots? Should she tell him that she had allowed herself to believe, for the second time in her life, that someone was unequivocally on her side and had for the second time been disappointed and betrayed? Should she just tell him that when he dumped her like garbage, she'd lost what little shreds of status she'd possessed and become garbage in the eyes of the rest of the student body?

So many things that she burned to say, and she didn't even care if she said them where the whole of Beacon could hear her…but then the fire within her burned itself out, and she was left with nothing but ashes and exhaustion. What did it matter? He wasn't going to change, and did she really want to get a reputation as an angry faunus on her first day at Beacon? She'd already caught people staring at her, or even giving her side-eye, on the airship ride over here. She didn't care what they thought, except inasmuch as it might inhibit her progress towards the success she deserved.

Sunset let out a deep sigh. "Thank you, Flash."

"Huh?"

"For reminding me why trusting other people is a bad idea," Sunset whispered.

Flash stared at her for a moment, his face a tempest of warring emotions battling for mastery of his expression. "I didn't break up with you because…," he began. "I…never mind. It's probably best if we stay out of each other's way."

"Don't say that," Sunset muttered.

Flash paused in the act of turning away. A frown creased his brow. "Why not?"

"Because now that you've said it, irony will dictate that we're bound to end up on the same team together."

Flash's eyes widened with horror, before a chuckle escaped him.

Sunset sniggered too, and for a moment, she remembered why she'd kinda liked hanging out with him, why she'd even let her guard down enough to start to care about him in the first place. She remembered the way he'd laugh at her jokes, the way he'd take her cruising in his car, the way he'd let her sit on the roof of said car while he went into stores that wouldn't serve faunus and bought the things they wouldn't sell to her.

However, that was all gone now. He'd destroyed it.

Which was why she straightened her back and pointedly looked away from him, even if her eyes kept flickering back to see if he was still there.

He didn't say another word as he turned away from her and walked into the dark of the hall, probably in search of a cute, quirky girl to talk to somewhere else.

Sunset tried to resume her reconnaissance of her fellow students – who were the ones to watch out for, who were the ones who could be dismissed as non-entities – but she'd missed a lot of people coming in while she'd been distracted with Flash, and it was still dark in here.

Rumours were already flying around the school about Ruby Rose; nobody knew who she was, but everyone seemed to know that a prodigy had been admitted to the school two years early on the strength of her incredible skills. Arguably worse, she was being joined this year by some Mistralian hot-shot who had never lost a battle in her life. Either Ruby or this new girl would have been a worry to Sunset, but to face both of them at once had her cursing her bad luck. She would have to work twice as hard, at least, to shine in competition with the likes of them.

But if there was one thing that being Celestia's student had taught her – besides not to trust those who claimed to have your best interests at heart but really just wanted to hold you back – it was how to work hard. If there was one thing that being a faunus in Atlas had taught her – besides hammering home the lesson not to trust – it was the necessity of working twice as hard for half as much credit. She could and she would do this, and she would do it splendidly, no matter how many peerless prodigies tried to get in her way.

Sunset cast her eyes over the crowd – those whose distinguishing features she could make out anyway – and tried to spot the other, non-Ruby, paragon amidst the mass of students. Doubtless, they were extremely cool and aloof, as befit their elite status, standing apart from the chattering children around them, but Sunset couldn't make out anybody like that at first glance.

But they had to be here somewhere, unless the rumour mill was completely mistaken.

Or I could be completely mistaken, I suppose. After all, you couldn't describe Ruby Rose as cool or aloof.

No, she's not at all what I would have expected her to be.

The lights rose, and the whine of a microphone attracted the attention of all those present in the amphitheatre. Professor Ozpin stood on the stage, with Professor Goodwitch standing just behind and to his side. He cleared his throat.

Sunset peeled herself off the wall and straightened up. Her second meeting with Professor Ozpin, and his pointed advice to her before the start of term, had not done much to make her more certain what to make of him. He had a great reputation, to be sure: the youngest man to ever be appointed a headmaster in the history of the four Huntsman Academies, the saviour of Vale after the fall of Mountain Glenn, and before that, all his other achievements in the field…but Celestia could boast many grand achievements too. It didn't make her any less of a lying, manipulative old spider. Just the memory of Professor Ozpin looking into her eyes was enough to make her shiver.

His speech didn't do much to reassure her. It wasn't that it was a bad speech, per se. When you boiled it down, it was not that much different from the kind of speeches that Princess Celestia gave every year to the new students at her School for Gifted Unicorns: school can only help you find your path, you have to do the hard work yourself, take your future into your own hands, et cetera. All the lies that she had fed to Sunset, all the lies that she had fed to who knew how many other unicorns through the years to make them docile instruments. But the way Ozpin said it was…off, somehow. Sunset had never known Celestia to start off one of her speeches by insulting the student body.

Wasted energy? You talked to each and every one of us before you let us in here; if you thought we were useless, why did you extend offers?

Is this supposed to motivate us to surpass your expectations?

If it is…it's kind of working on me. Few things, Sunset had discovered, motivated her more than being counted out.

Ozpin didn't stick around long after his remarkably unwelcoming welcome speech, and it was left to Professor Goodwitch to direct them all towards the ballroom – how many parties did this school have that it needed a purpose-built ballroom? – before their initiation on the morrow.

Sunset trailed at the back of the ground on their way to the ballroom, continuing to observe without putting herself in a position to be observed in turn. She chose a rear-corner spot in the spacious ballroom and watched as most of the students got changed for bed. It was interesting; when she'd first come to this world, she'd been surprised by the cultural taboos surrounding nakedness, as well as the way in which viewing someone - especially someone of the opposite sex - in any kind of state of undress was practically forbidden except in cases of great intimacy. And yet, here they were, stripping down without a care in the world: half-naked boys wrestled playfully, and the two sexes ogled each other without a trace of shame. It almost reminded her of home, where only the most stuck-up bothered to dress in any but the most formal of settings.

Sunset turned her mind away from these fascinating sociological observations and continued to try to spy out the competition. She had chosen a spot not far away from a subdued, raven-haired girl with a black bow in her hair, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion as Sunset: that this was the quiet corner. With barely a second glance at Sunset, she sat down with her back against the wall, got out a book, and started reading.

Sunset looked at her out of the corner of her eyes. Could this be the peerless warrior that Sunset had heard whispers of? She had the cool and aloof act down perfectly.

Of course, there was no way to be certain. Sunset furrowed her brow a little. The truth was, it was impossible to say on the basis of interactions in this setting. At the moment, all she had was speculation, and speculation was - as she had been taught - the enemy of fact-based scholarship. It wasn't enough to think or believe things to be true unless she could prove it.

Except why am I here, if not chasing a belief that has no basis in proof or fact?

Sunset scowled at the mental reproof. She had proof. Her power was the proof, all the proof that she required. Her actions would soon be all the proof the world required.

And the actions of those around her would be the proof of what they were. It was pointless to guess with whom she needed to be concerned, better to keep her eyes open and mark those whose behaviour ought to concern her.

Inspired a little by the girl silently reading beside her, Sunset got out her journal. Technically speaking, it was so much more than just a journal: it was a magical conduit, joined by a spell to another, identical, book in Canterlot, in Princess Celestia's keeping. Her old teacher had enchanted it so that they could communicate even when they were apart, when Celestia was on a state visit to Manehattan or Sunset was on a field trip. She wasn't honestly sure if the spell still worked.

Mostly because she hadn’t written anything in it since coming to this world.

Sunset had thought about it from time to time: when she was feeling particularly low after Flash had dumped her; when she was feeling particularly scared after discovering what kind of a world she was trapped in; when, as tonight, she was feeling particularly triumphant.

She had never actually done so. She had never actually been able to bring herself to take that step, to humble herself so much, to bring herself so low and it would bring her low though she wrote in the midst of her most dazzling success.

And so the pages went unwritten, as they would tonight.

"Hey, Sunset."

Sunset's tail twitched, and she slammed the journal shut at the sound of Ruby's unmistakable voice approaching. She rolled over onto her back to see that, yes, it was Ruby Rose, approaching diffidently, her hands clasped together in front of her.

"Ruby," Sunset said, her voice calm and even, "is there something I can do for you?"

"I just…" Ruby hesitated for a moment. "I wondered what it was you were reading."

"I wasn't," Sunset replied. "I was just…writing something in…in my journal."

"Oh, you keep a journal?" Ruby inquired eagerly. "That's cool."

"Is it?" Sunset asked. "It isn't…I mean I don't…" she glanced at the black haired girl beside her, who seemed a little irritated by the conversation going on so close to her. "This girl, on the other hand, is reading a book if you're looking for recommendations."

The girl with the bow in her wild, tangled hair gave Sunset a glare out of the corner of her golden eyes. Sunset smirked.

"Hey there," Ruby said, in a tone of affable nervousness. "I'm Ruby."

The ivory-skinned beauty looked at her over the top of her book. "Blake," she said, in the flattest of all possible tones.

"Nice to meet you," Ruby said.

Blake didn't say anything.

"So…what is your book about?" Ruby asked.

Blake was silent for a moment longer. "It's about a girl with only half a soul, after the other half is stolen by a wicked sorcerer. She can't truly feel anything or understand anyone, and in consequence, even her best intentions go awry and lead to great sorrow and suffering."

Ruby frowned. "That sounds…terrible," she murmured. "What happens to her in the end?"

"I don't know," Blake said. "I haven't finished it yet."

Ruby ignored that rather pointed remark. "I love books," she said. "Yang – that's my big sister – used to read to me every night before bed. Stories about monsters and the heroes who fought them. They're one of the reasons I wanted to be a huntress."

Blake scoffed. "And why is that? Hoping you'll live happily ever after?"

"Who doesn't hope for that?" Ruby replied. "I hope that we all will. When I was a child, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books: someone who fought for what was right and protected people who couldn't protect themselves."

"That's very ambitious, for a child," Blake observed, "but, unfortunately, the real world isn't a fairytale."

“I know,” Ruby admitted, with just a touch of quiet melancholy in her voice. “But...isn’t that why we’re here?”

"Who says the real world isn’t a fairytale?" Sunset demanded.

Blake glanced at her. "Excuse me?"

"I mean who says that?" Sunset repeated. "Where is it set down in immutable law that it must be so? Why must we succumb to despair?"

"It's not despair to face reality," Blake said.

"It is despair to equate reality with despond," Sunset declared. "To give up on our happiness, to turn away from dear ambitions and submit to the chains of mud and meanness that would bind us to this common earth. We are more than the dust from which mankind was born. We have such power in us as to lift the moon out of its sphere. We can do whatever we want, provided that we have the courage and the will to try."

She looked at Ruby. "Don't let anyone tell you the world isn't a fairytale. The world can be whatever you want it to be. We write our own stories. Nobody else can write them for you, nor force you to be anything less than the hero of your own life, though some may try.

"But you can't let them. You must never let them take that power from you. Never."

"Ahem."

Pyrrha turned around, Miló in one hand and Akoúo̱ in the other, having just retrieved them from her locker. Weiss Schnee stood beside her, looking up at Pyrrha with a somewhat diffident expression.

Pyrrha swung her shield onto her back and wedged her spear into the gap between back and shield. "Yes, Miss Schnee?"

"Please, Pyrrha, call me Weiss," Weiss said, managing to sound just a little more at ease than she looked. She coughed into her hand. "I…feel as though I ought to apologise for the way that I was acting yesterday. I was a little nervous, first day at a new school, you know how it is, I'm sure."

"I do," Pyrrha allowed, "but I don't think that I'm the one in need of an apology."

Weiss pouted as she realised who Pyrrha was talking about. "But she's one who set off that explosion!"

"That was an accident," Pyrrha pointed out.

Weiss scowled. "I…suppose you may be right. I…I'll think about it. Nevertheless, I feel as though you didn't see me at my best yesterday. I'd hate for you to get the wrong impression about me."

Pyrrha hesitated. "I…see," she said quietly. "Although I don't really understand why my impression of you should matter all that much."

Weiss chuckled. "Come now, Pyrrha, there's no need to be modest, we both know that in the world of huntsmen and huntresses, your name carries just as far as mine, maybe further."

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "Perhaps," she admitted. Although that doesn't mean I have to like the fact. "If it means that much to you, then I accept your apology."

"Thank you," Weiss said, with a grateful curtsy. "Now, have you given any thought at all to whose team you'd like to be on?"

Pyrrha did not rate herself as any great judge of people, but Weiss was so transparent that she could practically see the Schnee heiress's mind working. "I…have a couple of ideas," she admitted. She would rather not say more to Weiss than that.

"Really?" Weiss asked. "Only a couple? Because on a team of four, I was thinking that maybe you and I could be on the same team together."

"Speaking of teams," Jaune said, appearing from…somewhere to slide in between Weiss and Pyrrha. "I was thinking that you and I might make a pretty good team."

Pyrrha could not help but feel a little disappointed at the fact that he was saying this to Weiss, not her. "Actually," she said, "as Weiss was just saying, teams are composed of four members."

That got Jaune's attention. "Oh, hey, Pyrrha, right?"

Pyrrha smiled. "Hello again, Jaune Arc."

He smiled back. He had a very lovely smile, so eager and lively and earnest. "Four members, huh? Well…you, me, Ruby and Weiss. Four teammates, it's perfect."

"In what world does putting me on the same team as you and that dolt equal anything close to perfect?" Weiss growled. She stalked around Jaune until she was standing between him and Pyrrha. "You have no idea who we are, do you?"

Jaune blinked. "I know that she's Pyrrha, and you're…Weiss?"

Weiss sighed. "My name is Weiss Schnee, as in the Schnee Dust Company, as in the largest supplier of dust in the world.”

“That sounds very impressive, Snow Angel.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “And this is Pyrrha Nikos."

Pyrrha closed her eyes. Here it comes. At least it was nice while it lasted, I suppose.

"Pyrrha graduated top of her class from Sanctum Combat School," Weiss explained, and Pyrrha found herself perversely glad that Weiss was an Atlesian, because it meant that she was listing achievements of which Pyrrha could be at least somewhat proud, because she'd earned them through hard work. A Mistralian probably would have started with her lineage.

"Never heard of it," Jaune said.

"She's won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years running, a new record," Weiss declared.

"The what?" Jaune asked.

Weiss growled. "She's on the front of every box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes!"

I wish I'd never agreed to do that cereal promotion, Pyrrha thought.

"I knew I recognised you from somewhere!" Jaune cried. "You're the girl on the cereal box?"

"As it happens…yes," Pyrrha admitted. "Unfortunately, the cereal isn't very good for you." Nor can I honestly say that it tastes good. It had been rather vomit-inducing when she'd actually tried it. Pyrrha had no idea how it managed to sell so well.

"So, after hearing all this," Weiss continued, "do you really believe that you are in a position to claim a spot on a team with either of us?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment, before he bowed his head. "I guess not."

Weiss sniffed. "Hmph. At least you're not completely devoid of self awareness." She began to stalk away, only to stop and look back over her shoulder at him. "And Jaune? It's Miss Schnee to the likes of you." The sound of her heels clicking on the locker room floor was the only sound as she walked away.

Jaune remained, head bowed, back ever so slightly bent, arms hanging down in front of him.

Pyrrha pursed her lips. "She didn't need to be so hard on you."

Jaune looked up at her. "Did you really do all that stuff? Graduate at the top of your class, win a whole bunch of tournaments?"

"Does it matter?" Pyrrha asked. "I'm the same person I was yesterday."

"I guess, but…you must think I'm such an idiot."

"I don't think you're an idiot, Jaune," Pyrrha said. "I think you're very kind. You stopped to help Ruby when you didn't have to, even though everyone else passed her by."

"Kindness doesn't make a huntsman," Jaune replied.

"Skill at arms can be used for good or ill," Pyrrha countered, "but a kind heart will shine in the darkest of places. Don't despair, not when our journey has only just begun." She smiled. "Now, did you clean your sword?"

Jaune hesitated. "Uh…"

"Hand it over," Pyrrha said. "I'll see what I can do while we still have time."

"WAKE UP, LAZY BUD!"

Sunset's eyes snapped open and she started to sit up before she realised that the command was not directed at her. Rather, a diminutive redhead was haranguing a young man with a streak of pink in his black hair. Nevertheless, as the aforementioned redhead started singing about how it was morning - yes, we know, give it a rest already, for Celestia's sake - Sunset got up, because if it was time to roll over, then it was time to roll out and do something productive with your time.

Besides, she wasn't wholly ungrateful to the other girl. She had woken her from dreams about Celestia that Sunset did not particularly want to have.

Sunset showered, dressed, and ate in silence and in solitude; her head was bowed so as not to attract attention but not bent so low that she couldn't see everything going on around her. A couple of people glanced at her, and a big guy with some kind of bird embossed upon his cuirass loudly wondered why they allowed animals to attend Beacon. So much for the progressive and enlightened Kingdom of Vale – between him and the dust shop guy, the liberal pretensions of the light of the world were really taking a beating – but as long as the teachers themselves weren't down on her, it would be nothing Sunset Shimmer couldn't handle.

Even if the teachers were down on her, it would be nothing Sunset Shimmer couldn't handle after Canterlot.

After breakfast, it was time to head to the lockers, where Sunset wouldn't say that she lurked so much as she would say that she happened to be standing in a relatively secluded part of the locker room where she took her time buckling on her breastplate and loading rounds into Sol Invictus. The breastplate wasn’t much in the way of armour; it only protected…well, her chest, exactly like the name suggested, but she couldn’t afford much better, and if her aura broke, it would be better than nothing. As Sunset put it on, and as she slowly slid her six shots into the cylinder, she just so happened to be in a good position to listen to what was going on around her.

Most of what she heard was inconsequential nonsense. She learned that the chatty redhead - who went by Nora - really wanted to go out with the stoic boy - name of Ren - but didn't have the guts to admit it straight up, and he was either too clueless or too disinterested to pick up on the hints that she was giving off. She learned that Yang didn't seem to want to be on a team with Ruby, who drank milk and didn't like other people very much; Sunset knew the feeling well.

About the only useful thing she learned was the name of the undefeated fighter who had joined the freshman class: Pyrrha Nikos, a girl who seemed content to let others recite her achievements for her as she feigned modesty. Sunset was reminded of Twilight Sparkle back at Canterlot, who had likewise always possessed flunkies in abundance to blow her trumpet for her while she affected the humility of a true princess. Sunset fought to control her feelings of resentment, revelation of which would do her no good at this early stage. Later, when she had taken from Pyrrha all the things that rightfully belonged to Sunset - fame, glory, the acclaim of peers and strangers alike, fawning adulation, a reputation that echoed far and wide, her face on a box of obesity-inducing breakfast cereal - then would be the time to revel in her triumph and reveal just what had driven Sunset on. But not yet. For now, all that she could do was smoulder in silence as Pyrrha revelled in the attentions paid to her by her admirers.

One day, Sunset vowed. One day, it will be my turn.

She waited until the locker room was clear before leaving, trailing after the other students as they made their way to a cliff edge on the boundary of the school grounds. Said cliffs overlooked a vast and wild expanse of woodland appropriately named the Emerald Forest, where the dense cover of the trees embraced the land for miles, concealing everything that might lurk within, no matter how large or wild or deadly.

Professor Ozpin, with Professor Goodwitch once more at his side, explained the test: they were going to be thrown through the air into a monster-infested forest where they had to find ‘relics' and get back in one piece.

Am I the only one who wonders, if we survive this, what the point of spending four years at this academy is? Sunset thought. Probably something to do with those virtues Professor Ozpin was telling me about at the police station.

There was also the question of teammates: whomever they locked eyes with in the forest first would be their partner for the next four years. The utter randomness of the process was frustrating, but at the same time, it spared Sunset having to actually make up her mind about what kind of partner she wanted. Her thoughts oscillated back and forth between desiring a sap whom she could dominate with her strength of will and bend to her own purposes, or else someone who would be an asset in her progression through the school. She didn't want to have her grades dragged down by being shackled to a dolt.

I've come here to find my destiny; I suppose that means I should be willing to leave a few things in the hands of fate.

And then the pad beneath her feet exploded, and Sunset was flung upwards and through the air.

The world spun around her. Her ears were filled with the whistling of the wind and the screaming of at least one other person in a similar position to herself. Sunset's hair flew all around her, and she had to grab the sling of Sol Invictus and hold on tight to keep from losing her weapon on only her second day.

Sunset would have been lying if she'd said that she enjoyed the sensation, what with her face being squashed by the air pressure and all, but she was not afraid. This was the first test, after all, and she was not about to disappoint.

You want a landing strategy, Professor? I'll show you a landing strategy.

Sunset forced her eyes open, kept them fixed on the ground that was rushing towards her, and reached for magic.

The magic of Remnant was not as omnipresent as it was in Equestria; the air did not hum with it, the land did not bask in it, the trees did not drink deep of it, but it was here, and it was within her, and she could draw it out. She was not so strong as she had been in Equestria but - and to Tartarus with false modesty - considering that she'd had more raw power and magical potential than any unicorn since Starswirl's day, that drop didn't handicap her as much as it could have done.

For instance, she could still teleport just fine.

And in a flash of bright green light, that was exactly what she did.

Sunset experienced a momentary sensation of being squeezed through the eye of a needle, her whole body compressing in on itself in some eldritch dark dimension, before she emerged in a second flash of light with her feet on the floor of the Emerald Forest.

Sunset's breath came fast and deep, her chest rising and falling like the undulations of a hilly country. Some acts of magic cost more than others, and even in Equestria, teleportation was one of the most demanding. It wasn't something she could keep doing thoughtlessly.

Nevertheless, if the world had been just to someone with bestial features, Sunset would have been feted and admired for having a semblance as versatile as her command of magic. It wasn't actually her semblance, true; in fact, Sunset hadn't unlocked her semblance yet, but magic in this seemed to be something nobody was quite aware of, so Sunset had found it easiest to couch her abilities in terms the locals could understand. But the world was not fair, and so Rainbow Dash, whose only gift was the ability to run fast, had been the darling of the school while she, Sunset, languished in contempt. Not that she was bitter about it or anything, but if she came across Rainbow Dash again...

Sunset was pulled out of her thoughts by the sounds of running feet approaching her at great speed.

She looked. She could see nothing but the bushes and trees of the forest that surrounded her, but those feet were definitely getting closer.

The tread is too light to be an ursa, but a beowolf? Maybe a boarbatusk?

Sunset unslung Sol Invictus from over her shoulder and raised it. She pressed the stock firmly against her shoulder and aimed down the sights.

Those pitter-pattering feet were getting closer and closer.

Sunset's finger went to the cold metallic trigger.

Ruby Rose burst out of the bushes and, with a startled squeak as she realised she was literally staring down the barrel of a gun, skidded to a halt.

Sunset's expression was stony and inscrutable as she lowered the barrel.

"Sunset!" Ruby cried. "So, I guess this makes us partners, huh?"

Author's Note

When I came up with this story, I realised that, by adding Sunset to the mix, I would either need to cut one of the RWBY canon characters in order to keep the teams of four, or introduce three OCs. I decided to do the latter because the former approach didn't sit right with me. And, rather than actually create OCs, I decided to use EqG characters instead. You've met Flash already and you'll meet the other two soon.

Rewrite Note: This chapter got a whole lot longer this time around, with additional scenes for Ruby, Jaune and Pyrrha, as well as the earlier introduction of the magical journal. There are more canon scenes this time around but also more changes to canon, as Ruby meets Pyrrha instead of Blake and Pyrrha meets Jaune sooner.

Initiation (Rewritten)

Initiation

Sunset lowered her gun as she looked down at the smaller girl who stood in front of her. Ruby Rose. Her new partner.

“I guess we are,” Sunset muttered, trying to keep her tail from moving and giving away exactly how she felt about the new partnership.

“I’m glad,” Ruby said, and it took Sunset a minute to understand that she was glad that Sunset was her partner. “I mean, I kind of would have liked to have been on the same team as my sister, if I knew where she was, but she doesn’t really want to be on the same team as me, so that’s probably for the best, and then when I thought about who else I could have partnered up with, well, Jaune seems pretty nice, but I’m not sure if he’d be any good in a fight, but then I thought about you, and can I say how grateful I am that you’re not Weiss because that would have been really awkward?

“What I’m trying to say – sorry, I’m not very good at this kind of thing – but what I’m trying to say is that I’m looking forward to our next four years together.”

She smiled. Sunset didn’t smile back. “Likewise,” she said, and tried not to sound as though she was saying it through gritted teeth.

I’m going to be stuck with the child prodigy for the next four years! How am I supposed to get out from under that?

She could see now exactly how it was going to go. Nothing that she could do would matter because everyone would be too busy cooing over Ruby Rose and how young she is and isn’t she a marvel to be such a talent at her age? Sunset would never escape - never have the opportunity to escape - that kind of shadow.

Breathe. Deep breaths. Twice as hard for half as much reward just means you have to work four times as hard. No, make that eight times. Ruby did not look like a prodigy; she honestly didn’t look as though she had much of anything about her at all, but it was clear to Sunset that that appearance was deceptive. Sunset had seen what she’d done that had so impressed Professor Ozpin. What was more intriguing was the fact that Ruby didn’t look particularly proud of her status as the youngest student to attend the academies since their foundations either. That was a complete mystery to Sunset. If she had been admitted to Beacon two years early on the strength of her awesome skills, she would have made sure that the whole school knew it.

She’d done exactly that when she was admitted to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns early on the strength of her magical prowess. She’d worn her youth like a badge of honour and told herself that all those who sniggered at her small stature were merely jealous of her power and potential.

Ruby didn’t seem inclined to do the same, and Sunset wasn’t yet sure why.

She considered for a moment that Ruby was putting on a self-effacing act to try and lower Sunset’s guard, but that wasn’t the read she was getting off the other girl. She appeared to be completely sincere…Sunset just didn’t get it yet.

Oh, well. It wasn’t really Sunset’s concern why Ruby was acting in a certain way. She didn’t have to understand the other girl; she just needed to fight alongside her. Sunset slung Sol Invictus over her shoulder and turned away. “We should find those ruins quickly. There’s no sense in dawdling around out in these woods.”

“Right,” Ruby said. “Find the ruins, get the relic, and get out.”

“Exactly,” Sunset said as she started to push through the bushes.

Ruby followed. “So, Sunset, you said you were from Atlas, right?”

Sunset frowned. “As I recall my exact words were ‘something like that.’”

“So…not from Atlas? Or are you from the Kingdom but not the city?”

Sunset halted but didn’t turn around to face Ruby. “Why does it matter where I’m from?”

“It doesn’t, I guess,” Ruby admitted. “I was just wondering why you didn’t go to Atlas Academy.”

“Because Beacon is the best of the four, and I didn’t want to be a workhorse of the Atlesian military,” Sunset muttered. And I certainly didn’t want to run into Rainbow Dash and the Canterlot crew again. She looked at Ruby over her shoulder. “Is there a point to all of these questions?”

“I suppose not,” Ruby said, her voice becoming smaller. “I just thought that maybe we could find out about one another. Don’t friends talk about stuff like that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sunset grunted. “I’ve never…I’m not here to make friends.”

“Well, no, we’re here to learn how to fight monsters and protect humanity,” Ruby cried as Sunset started walking again, “but there’s no rule saying that we can’t be friends, right? I mean we are teammates. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next four years.”

“Lots of people spend lots of time together, but it doesn’t make them friends,” Sunset said as she continued to walk through the undergrowth. “Why don’t we keep our relationship professional? You can hang out with your other friends.”

Ruby mumbled something indistinct.

Sunset looked back over her shoulder. “What was that?”

Ruby looked down at her feet. She was playing with her hands. “I…I’m not sure if I have any friends. Jaune and Pyrrha were pretty nice, but…”

“You’re not missing out, trust me,” Sunset said. It was clear from the look on Ruby’s face that she didn’t find that response particularly helpful, and what was worse, her expression was making Sunset feel guilty about it. “What about at your combat school? I bet you were the one that everyone wanted to be associated with.”

Ruby frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because in just two years, you got to the point everyone else has to study four years for,” Sunset reminded her. “You must have been the star of the school, and everyone wants to suck up to the star of the school.” Even she, as little use as she had for friends, had not been free of the occasional flatterer who hoped to get close to her on account of her connection to Princess Celestia.

Her experience of Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle suggested it was no different here in Remnant: the perception of talent attracted mediocrity like barnacles attached to the hull of a ship.

“Me?” Ruby said. “No, I wasn’t…I suppose I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“And do you know why that is?” Sunset demanded. “It’s because you keep apologising for yourself. You got into Beacon two years early, for crying out loud, and you carry yourself like a trespasser.”

Ruby looked up at her, a frown disfiguring her features. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, have some self-respect!” Sunset snapped. “We don’t get treated the way we deserve in this world, or any other for that matter. We get treated the way we act like we deserve. So straighten your back, tilt up your chin, and remember: all of these people around you…are nothing but worms compared to you.”

Ruby took a step back. “That…doesn’t sound like a way to make friends.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll make you much more comfortable about the fact that you don’t have any,” Sunset said. It worked for me. Most of the time. Some of the time.

It sort of works. Upon occasion.

“Take my advice. Or don’t,” Sunset went on. “It makes no difference to me.”

Sunset continued to push through the bushes until her attention was drawn by the noise of something struggling and groaning up in one of the trees in front of her.

It turned out not to be a grimm but a boy with a mop of untidy blond hair. Someone had used a spear to pin him to the tree by his hoodie, and he was, in spite of his best efforts, unable to extricate himself from the predicament.

Once he noticed Sunset down below, he offered her a stupid grin and a wave of his hand.

Sunset folded her arms. The defenders of humanity.

I suppose things could be worse. I could be stuck with this loser for a partner.

“Jaune?” Ruby cried as she stumbled out of the bushes in Sunset’s wake.

“Ruby, hi,” the boy – Jaune – said unhappily. “I, uh, nice to see you again!”

“What are you doing up there?”

“Well, I-“

“Jaune?” Another girl emerged from out of the shadows of the trees. She was tall, and probably would have been so even if she weren’t wearing high heels, with rich red hair falling down past her waist in a ponytail that curved gently in a loose ringlet. She wore a corset of brown leather augmented with bronze, with greaves and cuisses likewise of bronze - or at least a bronze colour - protecting her legs above her boots. She wore a long red sash around her waist, dangling almost to the ground upon the right-hand side. Her shoulders were bare, but her arms were covered in a pair of brown opera gloves, with a bronze vambrace upon her left forearm. A gilded gorget protected her neck while a circlet glimmered about her brow.

The girl’s green eyes were on Jaune as she emerged into view, and only then did she notice Sunset and Ruby already at the foot of the tree. “Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was as palpable as it was inexplicable.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got mine already,” Sunset said, indicating Ruby with one hand before gesturing to Jaune. “He’s all yours.”

Professor Ozpin stood on the edge of Beacon Cliffs, monitoring the students via his scroll.

“Hmm, it looks like our last pair has assembled,” Glynda Goodwitch said, from a short distance away. “Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie. Poor boy. I can’t imagine those two getting along.”

Professor Ozpin said nothing. He had a feeling that Glynda was completely wrong about that, certainly he was getting a decidedly contrary impression from watching the two of them. And from the fact that they had interviewed together, making it clear that an offer that was not extended to them both would not be accepted by either. But then, he did tend to keep details of the interviews to himself. He sipped his cocoa as he continued to watch the feeds.

“Although I daresay he’ll be better off than Miss Nikos,” Glinda continued. “I don’t care what his transcripts say; that Arc boy is not ready for this level of combat.”

Which of us is ever ready? Ozpin thought. He had been nine years old when he had been…called to serve. There were times when he couldn’t remember his parents' faces, and not because he was so old or so senile. Had he been ready? Probably not. In the end, none of them were ever ready for the moment when destiny came calling.

That was why he had decided to give Jaune Arc his chance. Perhaps he wasn’t ready, but since no one was ever really ready, it was surely better that he was at least willing to do his part.

That, and the fact that they were related, after a strange and rather esoteric fashion. And his father had been a capable enough huntsman, and his great-great grandfather had been an exceptional warrior, one of his most trusted captains in the war. Time would tell if the latest scion of the Arc line was made of the same stuff.

For the moment, however, he was more interested in the companions that young Mister Arc had acquired. Professor Ozpin’s scroll showed the four of them moving through the forest: Sunset Shimmer in the lead, then Ruby Rose, then Pyrrha Nikos just ahead of Mister Arc. How strange that the three of them should meet so early. What a coincidence that the three students he had been intending to keep an eye on more than any others should all come to the same place at the same time, where he could watch them all together.

Coincidence…or fate.

But if it is fate, then I hope that it is kind to them.

Kinder than it was to their predecessors.

He had intended to keep an eye on Miss Nikos from the moment he had received her surprising application to attend Beacon. He and Leonardo had both been preparing to receive her at Haven. Miss Nikos herself had other ideas, and that told him something about her nature. Not only a great warrior, not only driven by a deep sense of herself as the heir to a set of responsibilities passed down to her from her ancestors, but at the same time, humble, too. She could have trained to serve at the forefront of the battle just as easily at Haven, and at Haven, she would have been feted in ways that would make any adulation she might receive at Beacon seem trivial by comparison. Miss Nikos was the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, and yet, she had chosen to come to Vale, where the Invincible Girl might still be a celebrity, but the Princess Without a Crown was little known.

Miss Shimmer was interesting to him in her own right. Yet another visitor from Equestria come to make their home in Remnant. He still wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing here, although he was almost certain that she was not yet another monster or criminal banished by the inhabitants of that other world who used Remnant as a dumping ground for all their problems. Principal Celestia thought that she was lost, and Vice Principal Luna thought that she was dangerous; Professor Ozpin himself considered that they were both right, each in part. They each saw only part of Sunset Shimmer. With all due modesty, he fancied that he saw both; she could have been dangerous. She might still be dangerous; what the Enemy might have made of her anger and her pride, he almost dreaded to imagine. Nevertheless, he could also see what Celestia had seen in her: someone who could be so much more than she was, if only she was given the opportunity. Or rather, if she was willing to take the opportunity to become more than she was when it was offered to her.

And helping people discover who they were or could be was one of the purposes of Beacon Academy.

And then there was Miss Rose. Ruby. Summer’s daughter. So young, and yet, at the same time, so very gifted. In looks, she was her mother in miniature. It remained to be seen if she would take after Summer in character and personality as well.

Even if she does, she is not Summer.

Summer was not Summer, in the end; she was not what I thought she was, not able to bear all the hopes and expectations that I put on her.

I will not make the same mistake with Ruby, or with any of the rest of them.

Miss Nikos, Miss Rose, Miss Shimmer; each of them, in their own way, gifted. Miss Rose’s silver eyes, Miss Nikos’s strength and speed, Miss Shimmer’s magic; they were almost as gifted as Team STRQ had been a generation before them. And yet, he would not make haste to involve them in his affairs, as he had done with Ruby’s parents, her uncle, and her stepmother. It had done them no good, involving them so young; tutoring Summer in her silver eyes, dragging them so deeply into the mire of conspiracy and intrigue, and at what cost? Summer dead, Raven fled, Taiyang and Qrow both broken in their own ways.

He would not be so eager to subject any more children to that fate. He would not be so swift to pull back to the curtain for them, however talented they might appear to be.

Summer, Raven, Amber; is that not enough for now? Have I not led enough high hearts to ruin?

It was his curse, to nurture so many generations of young men and women, so talented and so brave, so virtuous and so eager…and then to watch them fall, either in the battle against the dark or the slow decay of years.

He would not hasten that inevitable end, not even for such talented students as passed through the doors of Beacon this year. He would not make the same mistakes as he had made before. He would step back from them and give them the chance to live and laugh and to be children for as long as the world allowed.

And as for the darkness gathering without, he would do what he could to make sure it did not disturb them.

This was his burden to bear.

As it had always been.

As she led the way through the woods, Sunset wondered if she could have possibly done something to offend some kind of deity of this world that had responded by cursing her with some absolutely rotten luck.

The champion and the prodigy, both at once. It was appalling.

Or at least, it had the potential to be.

Although…there was a part of Sunset that was starting to wonder if she might not be able to turn this to her advantage somehow.

It would be hard, it would be a narrow path for sure, but if she could pull it off, then she might well be golden.

The risks were obvious: surrounded by two such paragons, she was in grave danger of being outshone. But, since she was already stuck with one of them, then the risks were not so much greater with the other as well. And the prize: if she could lead these two, then a share of their successes and their honours would accrue to her by right as their leader. She would be credited as the guiding brain, the decisive mind that had shaped and conceived of all their triumphs. She would be the one who had guided them to the pinnacle of success. If Pyrrha won the Vytal Festival, then, well, she couldn’t have done it without the help of her team leader, Sunset Shimmer, and her brilliant strategies.

It would be tricky. She wouldn’t be able to just sit back and bask in their reflected glory; she would have to show that she was fit and deserving of a share in their light, but if she could do it…it was a far better path by far than standing in their shadow and raging impotently at the darkness that would consume her there.

It certainly helped that Pyrrha was so…"docile" was perhaps the best word that Sunset could come up with, for all that it made her seem like a farm animal. But Sunset had been surprised; she had expected Pyrrha to take the lead, or try to; her achievements fitted her for leadership. Instead, she seemed content to follow and without any way of knowing that Sunset was even better suited to lead than she was! She had said nothing when Sunset had taken control of the foursome by the simple process of acting like she had been put in charge, issuing instructions to the others without room for them to demur or question. Ruby hadn’t given her any trouble either.

If they both keep up this obedient attitude, then I might actually be able to swing this.

Jaune yelped in pain as the branch that Pyrrha had just pushed out of her way snapped back and smacked him in the face.

Which brought Sunset to the fourth member of their little group. To say that he wasn’t on the same level as the three of them appeared to be something of an understatement. She turned around to see that he was flat on his back. How someone like him intended to defend his world from the creatures of grimm, Sunset couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“Jaune! Are you alright?” Ruby asked.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said apologetically.

Why do either of you care what happens to this guy? Sunset wondered, incredulous that these two should fawn over one who was an ant to them.

“It’s just a scratch,” Jaune said as he picked himself up off the ground. Literally, he had a scratch on his cheek just below his eye. Which was pretty weird, really. Why didn’t his aura-?

“Why didn’t you activate your aura?” Pyrrha asked, voicing what Sunset had been thinking.

“Huh?”

“Your aura?” she repeated.

“Gesundheit.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. Seriously?

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, sounding as confused as Sunset felt about this, “you do know what aura is.”

Jaune scoffed. “Of course I do. Do you know what aura is?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “How do you not know what aura is? Where did you go to Combat School?”

“I, uh, didn’t,” Jaune said. “I was…homeschooled…by my father. But I passed all the equivalency tests! And I have the transcripts to prove it.”

“Wow, you passed all of the graduation and entrance exams without aura!” Ruby gasped. “That’s amazing! You must be really, really strong!”

Yeah, really strong. Sunset managed to keep her scepticism off her face with a small degree of effort, but her eyes remained narrowed as Pyrrha explained to Jaune what aura was, albeit in a slightly more mystical and numinous way than Sunset would have tackled the same task. Honestly, Pyrrha might have seemed exasperatedly amused when Jaune declared that aura was like a forcefield, but it was probably a more useful descriptor than all her talk of light and darkness.

When Pyrrha offered to unlock Jaune’s aura with her own, Ruby threw up her hands in excitement. “Oh, this is going to be so great. When my Uncle Qrow unlocked my aura for me, I felt as though I could run all the way across Patch and back without stopping; you’re going to love this.”

Sunset was still trying to figure out exactly how Jaune had gotten this far without knowing about aura. This was first year combat school stuff, and the explanation that he hadn’t been to a combat school only answered so many questions. He would have still had to take the standardised tests in order to prove that he deserved a shot at Beacon. Sunset would never have gotten through the practical exams to graduate from Canterlot without her aura. So unless Jaune really was an absolute badass, he ought to have been unable to do so too, right?

How had he done it? Aura was…everything. Sunset probably could have replicated some of the effects with magic, but the drain of keeping a passive shield up would have been immense compared to using aura to accomplish the same thing. And without magic…without magic, she would have been terrified in a place like this.

I suppose I have to give him credit for bravery, if nothing else.

Pyrrha cupped Jaune’s cheek with one hand. “For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.”

Ruby gasped in awe as Jaune began to glow like a blazing sun and then rushed over to help Pyrrha as she doubled over from the exertion of what she’d just done. Sunset stayed where she was, watching, pondering the words that Pyrrha had spoken. Ritualistic, as she might have expected. A little ominous. And wrong, too.

"In passing we achieve immortality"? No. The dead are dead, and none recall their names. And even if they did, even if you are one of those lucky few whose fame will outlast them, so what? What use has a dead man for glory? What good will it do me in the grave to be remembered, even to be spoken of in awe? Let me win far fame while I live and spread my legend as much by my own mouth as by my deeds.

Let me be forgotten when I am dead, so long as I am held in awe while I am living.

Bluntly put, you couldn’t ascend when you were dead.

Ruby patted Pyrrha on the back. “Are you okay?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Jaune demanded, sounding notably panicked at the protest. “Are you hurt?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “I spent some of my aura to unlock yours. It... took more out of me than I expected. You have a lot of aura.”

“Take a minute to rest,” Sunset said. “We’re not in that much of a hurry.” As much as Celestia had used, betrayed, and abandoned her, she had nevertheless taught Sunset a great many things. More things, perhaps, than she had intended to, teaching Sunset not only by her lessons but by her example. One of the things that Sunset had learned from said example was that, when you took leadership upon yourself, you not only shared in the successes of your minions but also in their failures. If Pyrrha was hurt under Sunset’s direction, whether it was because of her own foolishness or not, then the blame would accrue to Sunset’s leadership, especially when Pyrrha’s own reputation gleamed so brightly.

So there was really no need for the grateful looks that Jaune and Sunset gave her. She was simply practicing prudence.

Her ears twitched as she heard something rustling in the nearby bushes.

Of course, nothing says the enemy has to give us a minute.

“Guys,” Sunset called, pressing the stock of Sol Invictus to her shoulder even as, for the moment, she kept the barrel down. “Get ready. Back to back. Pyrrha, can you fight?”

“Yes.”

Sunset frowned. She didn’t sound that bad, but even, so there was no point taking chances. “Jaune, cover her anyway.”

“R-right,” Jaune said. He sounded nervous, but that was understandable. Sunset was pretty nervous herself, for all that she wouldn’t show it. That was something else Celestia had taught her: no matter how much ice there is in your stomach, no matter how your heart pounds, keep an expression of serenity on your face and don’t let them see you troubled.

They stood back to back in the modest clearing. The rustling sounds were coming from all around them now, getting closer and closer. It belatedly occurred to Sunset that she didn’t really know much about Jaune or Pyrrha’s weapons or their capabilities beyond the fact that Jaune had a lot of aura that he hadn’t even known existed until thirty seconds ago. But Pyrrha had a great reputation, as did Ruby, so it was probably safe to put a little trust in them.

As safe as it was to trust anybody in this selfish world.

Sunset could see a pair of red eyes in one of the bushes, then she could see another, and another, and by the looks of it, there were upwards of a dozen of them all around them.

Sunset rested her finger on the trigger.

A beowolf stuck its head out of the bush as it started to slink into view.

Sunset squeezed the trigger, and Sol Invictus erupted with a flash and a crack as her first shot took the beowolf’s head off. Its body remained standing for a moment, headless and disturbingly without blood, before it keeled over onto the ground and started to dissolve.

The grimm howled in anger. They howled in rage. They howled in bloodlust. The howl rose in an awful cacophony from all their throats filling the sky and echoing in all four of Sunset’s ears, jarring down her spine and making it shiver.

Vice Principal Luna had said that beowolves were the worst grimm; they weren’t the strongest or the fastest, but they were the meanest, and their howl…the vice principal had said that if anyone claimed to have heard the howling of a pack of beowolves and not been frightened, then they hadn’t actually heard it.

At that moment, at this place, Sunset believed her.

They charged out of the thicket in a black mass like tar with teeth, snarling and baring their fangs as they ran on four legs or two, claws ready and red eyes gleaming.

Sunset fired. She could hear other shots from behind her, shots coming from two different weapons; she guessed that one was Ruby with that ludicrous Crescent Rose of hers, and the other would have to be either Pyrrha or Jaune, unless some stranger had come to their aid.

I don’t need to be rescued on my first test.

Crack!

Sunset’s second shot hit a beowolf in the shoulder; it staggered but did not fall.

Crack!

That shot did for it; it hit the ground and started to dissolve.

Crack!

Another one down but they were all getting so close.

Crack!

Sunset turned and shot one that was trying to get at Pyrrha from the flank.

Crack!

Her shot caught a beowolf in mid-flight before it could leap on her. Its momentum carried the smoke and ashes right into her face. Sunset took aim at another beowolf.

Click.

And she’d had her six.

There was no time to use magic. She needed at least a little concentration for that, and that was hard to come by right now. The beowolves sensed weakness – Ruby and whoever else it was were still shooting – and came for her, roaring in their lust for blood.

An answering yell rose from Sunset’s throat. She bellowed angrily because she would not die, not here, not now, not before she had accomplished anything. She would not die, and she roared out her desire to live as she reversed her grip on the gun in her hand and swung wildly as though it were a bat, clubbing the closest beowolf across its bone mask with the heavy wooden stock. The grimm shuddered, the mask cracked, but it did not fall. Sunset hit it again and again, still shouting until the demon was dead, and then she twisted away just in time to avoid another beowolf charging for her. She impaled it on her bayonet.

She wasn’t quick enough to do anything about the beowolf that slammed into her, bearing her to the ground. She tried to fend it off with Sol Invictus, but its jaws snapped and snarled at her, barely an inch away from her face as its claws slashed at her aura, stripping it away piece by piece.

There was a flash of bronze, and the beowolf was hurled away as Pyrrha struck it with her shield so powerfully that it was thrown clean off of Sunset. With the second stroke of her shield, Pyrrha eviscerated the grimm, while with her spear, she impaled another.

And in the next few moments, Sunset began to see where her reputation came from. Gone was the quiet girl who had been content to follow where Sunset led; in her place was a warrior grim of face, an artist on the battlefield, her every movement both graceful and deadly. Grimm fell by her hand like leaves until she cut down the big alpha in a flurry of swift slashes of her sword, and the survivors fled, their howls of bloodlust turned to howls of panic and terror.

Sunset picked herself up quickly off the ground and hoped that Ruby and Jaune hadn’t noticed that she’d been knocked down. Thankfully, Pyrrha didn’t seem to want to be thanked, and as the grimm retreated, her face softened once more, as if something had been switched off in her head once the danger was passed.

Jaune had also been knocked onto his back; he looked chastened as he climbed to his feet. Ruby didn’t say anything but gave him a pat on the shoulder as though he needed to be reassured about something.

Sunset said nothing as she started to reload, breaking the gun in half to expose the back and ejecting the spent casings in the process. I need to get stronger. Clearly, I’m not up to their level yet.

I may never get there.

But I can get closer than I am now if I work at it.

But there’s no way that they’re going to accept my leadership now. I wouldn’t, if I was in their position.

“Which way would you suggest now?” Pyrrha asked.

“Whuh?” the sound fell out of Sunset’s mouth. “You’re asking me?”

Pyrrha shrugged. “You seem confident in your sense of direction.”

Sunset glanced at Ruby, who nodded.

Sunset’s pride felt a little less dented. My training in leadership shining through, I suppose.

She had just put the fourth round into the cylinder when she heard a tree falling in front of her.

And then another, and then a third after that.

“That…that sounds bigger than a beowolf,” Jaune said.

Sunset was inclined to agree, which was why she hurried up reloading. She had just – just – put the sixth round into the cylinder and snapped it closed when a deathstalker crashed through the forest, trampling trees and bushes beneath its legs.

It made no sound; it did not roar or howl, but it did snap its claws aggressively at them as it came on.

Ruby charged and swung her scythe in a wide arc that glanced off the deathstalker’s bleached white armour.

A single swipe of the deathstalker’s claw was enough to send Ruby flying backwards.

Sunset didn’t bother to fire. Instead, she teleported the distance between Ruby and herself and threw up a shield of blue green energy around the two of them.

The claws and stinger of the deathstalker beat fruitlessly against it. For now.

“Pyrrha!” Sunset yelled. “We need a distraction!”

“Understood,” Pyrrha answered, and she dashed forward with a swift, loping gait, culminating in a flying leap that carried her onto the deathstalker’s back. She drove her spear downwards but had no more luck penetrating its armoured carapace than Ruby had. Her spear turned into a rifle, and she fired to as little effect. She had gotten the grimm’s attention, though, and as Pyrrha leapt off its back, it turned all of its malicious attention on her. But, though Pyrrha could not harm the grimm for all that she leapt at it and slashed and thrust and fired, she was too swift-footed for the demonic scorpion to harm her either. It simply couldn’t keep up with her as she danced out of the way of its claws, closing and retreating, her red sash flying around her like a banner in the wind as she wove in and out of the grimm’s guard.

Sunset dropped her shield; keeping it up was a drain, and the plan that was starting to formulate in her mind would require every bit of magic she could lay her hands on. She pointed in the other direction from that in which Pyrrha was currently leading the deathstalker. “Ruby, get up one of those trees and catch that thing in a crossfire.”

“But his armour-“

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t hurt him; I just want him to notice,” Sunset said. “Believe me, this is going to work.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment before she nodded. “Okay.” She sped forward, firing her sniper rifle and using the recoil to carry her into the low branches of a nearby tree.

“What should I do?” Jaune asked as he jogged up to Sunset.

“You…you stay here,” Sunset said, “and wait for my instructions.”

Jaune didn’t look too happy about that, but Sunset didn’t have time to pay too much attention to him right now. Ruby had just started laying down fire on the deathstalker from above. The grimm stopped, half turning towards her. Pyrrha attacked again, her blade shining as she slashed furiously at the deathstalker’s carapace. For its part, the grimm appeared confused, torn between its two assailants. It turned first one way, and then the other. Its claws chittered furiously as it turned, never quite settling on an assailant. It spread its legs out and scuttled into just the right position.

And then Sunset teleported again. She emerged in a flash of green light underneath the deathstalker, flat on her back in the space between its legs and gathered the last of her magic in the palm of her hands in a blast upwards into the soft underbelly of the scorpion. The grimm shuddered in pain and then collapsed.

Right on top of Sunset. Fortunately, it dissolved a moment later.

Ruby cheered as she leapt down from the tree. “That was awesome!”

“You have quite a versatile semblance,” Pyrrha said.

“Semblance?” Jaune asked.

“She can explain later,” Sunset said. “For now, let’s just get our relics and get back to Beacon without any more trouble.”

They were back in the hall where they had started from the day before, the hall where Professor Ozpin had given them his "interesting" address. Now, in groups of four, they were called up onto the stage as their images appeared on the two giant screens that hung above the hall.

Sunset waited impatiently, her tail sweeping from side to side as four by four, all other students except her were called up onto the stage by the headmaster.

Currently on stage were Blake, the girl who had been reading about a girl with half a soul the night before; a tall boy with dark blue hair and grey armour; and a pair of Canterlot alumni whom Sunset recognised from her year: Lyra and Bon Bon. Although they had idolised Rainbow Dash and the other Rainbooms like everyone else in the year below them, they hadn’t given Sunset any particular trouble that she remembered, and so she was not particularly displeased to see them here.

Professor Ozpin announced their names. “Blake Belladonna, Sky Lark, Bonnie Bonaventure, and Lyra Heartstrings, the four of you retrieved the black knight pieces and will continue your studies as Team Bluebell, led by Blake Belladonna.”

Sunset joined in the polite applause as the initials BLBL flashed up under the pictures of the respective students. Blake Belladonna seemed more resigned than anything else as she led her new team off the stage.

“Weiss Schnee, Flash Sentry, Russell Thrush, Cardin Winchester,” Professor Ozpin called, waiting a moment for the four of them to join him on stage: a pale girl with hair as white as snow who might be even shorter than Ruby, the big guy with the bird on his armour who had mocked Sunset earlier, some punk with a sleeveless hoodie and a grey mohawk, and Flash. Sunset’s lip curled in contempt at the sight of Flash standing up there in that gaudy armour of his with his chest puffed out with pride. “You four retrieved the black bishop pieces. You will be known as Team Wisteria, led by Weiss Schnee.” The letters WWSR flashed up beneath their portraits.

Sunset didn’t join in the applause. Miss Schnee led the way off the stage, managing to look both proud and at the same time as though this was nothing unexpected. As he followed his new leader down, Flash glanced Sunset’s way. Sunset glared at him until he looked away again and made his way off the stage with the others.

“Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren, Dove Bronzewing, Nora Valkyrie.”

Ruby whistled, and Yang turned to give her a wink and a wave as she led the serious boy with the pink streak in his hair Sunset had noticed earlier, the redhead who had woken them both up, and a nondescript looking guy in tan armour up onto the stage.

“The four of you,” Ozpin said, “retrieved the white rook pieces. You will continue your studies here as Team Iron, led by Yang Xiao Long”

Ruby started cheering enthusiastically as the letters YRDN appeared beneath the portraits of the four members of the newly formed team. Yang gave her a thumbs up before she made her way off the stage with the others.

“Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ruby Rose.”

Sunset kept her expression pleasantly neutral as she led the other three out of the crowd and up onto the stage. The lights on them were bright, but Sunset didn’t mind the glare. She didn’t mind the eyes upon her. In fact, she positively enjoyed them both.

“The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces,” Professor Ozpin reminded the audience. “You will therefore be known as Team Sapphire, led…by Sunset Shimmer.”

Well of course, Sunset thought, and let the applause roll over her.

“It looks like things are shaping up to be an interesting year,” Professor Ozpin observed idly. He raised his voice. “Now, I’m sure that you are all tired after your exertions today and eager to find your beds. However, I would ask that all team leaders please remain for just a moment longer and join Miss Shimmer back up on stage. The rest of you are free to leave, secure in the knowledge that you have all passed the first test with honour.”

“See you later, Sunset,” Ruby whispered as her three new teammates made their way off the stage. Sunset remained stationary, facing the headmaster with her hands clasped behind her back, but from behind her, she could Ruby and Yang exchanging a few words as the other team leaders joined Sunset facing the headmaster. Weiss Schnee appeared to want to keep away from Sunset, who found herself in the centre of the line, with Weiss anchoring the left flank and Yang Xiao Long between the two of them.

Yang grinned at Sunset. “You’d better take good care of my sister, okay?”

“She’ll be fine; don’t worry,” Sunset said. “We’re going to do great things together, Ruby and I.”

Blake fell in on Sunset’s right, with the other team leaders filling in around them.

Professor Ozpin waited until they were all assembled back on stage, staring at them from over his small dark spectacles. His gaze did a great deal to chill the sense of excitement that Sunset had felt about her new position.

“Congratulations to all of you,” Professor Ozpin said. “You all showed during the course of your Initiation that you have at least some of the qualities that we look for in a team leader. Over the course of your studies, those qualities will be honed through special lessons with Professor Goodwitch that are reserved exclusively for team leaders.

“But I want none of you to be under any illusions: this is not simply an honour that has been handed to you, but a grave responsibility also. In battle, you will hold the lives of teammates in your hands; your decisions will determine not only the success or failure of the mission but also the life or death of those who fight under you.”

Blake Belladonna flinched at that, a decidedly uneasy look upon her face. “P-professor,” she began, her voice trembling. “If we-“

“I would prefer you didn’t second guess my decisions on the very day that I’ve made them, Miss Belladonna,” Professor Ozpin said, a touch of humour in his voice. “Team dispositions can be reviewed if the circumstances justify it. I’m not sure that any circumstance could justify their review moments after they were announced.”

Sunset couldn’t help but snort at that, and she wasn’t the only one. Weiss seemed to find it rather amusing too, although Yang glanced at Blake with concern in her purple eyes.

“To encourage you to take your responsibilities seriously, leadership confers duties inside the school as well as on the battlefield,” Professor Ozpin continued. “As team leaders, you are responsible for ensuring that your teammates attend all classes, pass all examinations, and turn in all homework on time. Be advised that your teachers will not hesitate to punish team leaders whom they judge to be failing in those responsibilities.”

In other words, it’s our job to step in if our teammates are slacking, and if we don’t, then we’ll be the ones punished for slacking off ourselves.

“Leadership can be difficult,” Professor Ozpin declared, “and there will no doubt be times you will wish that I had appointed someone else to lead your team, but if you are willing to work as hard at being leaders as you are at the rest of your education here, then I think you will find that leadership can also be incredibly rewarding.”

I hope so, thought Sunset.

“With that said,” Professor Ozpin concluded, “the main thing I want for you to take from this…is that you have all done very well. Find your rooms, rejoin your teams, and get some rest. Tomorrow morning, your journey begins in earnest.”

Author's Note

For those of you who might be wondering why I used Lyra and Bon Bon (Bonnie Bonaventure) instead of two actual characters, it's because I'm saving the Humane Six for bigger roles in the story than just making up the numbers of Blake's team.

Rewrite Notes: This chapter has a lot of stuff with Blake, Weiss and Yang removed, as well as a coda added at the end in which Ozpin details the duties of a team leader, but the biggest change here is the complete rewrite of Ozpin's scene, to bring his characterisation more into line with the characterisation he eventually settled into later in the story.

Roomshare (Rewritten)

Roomshare

As the only girl on a team with three boys, Weiss went into the bathroom to get changed for bed.

She shut the door and removed the icicle tiara from her hair, letting her braid collapse and her hair fall down around her shoulders.

And as her snowy hair descended so, Weiss leaned against the bathroom wall and sighed.

She was the team leader. On the one hand, it was really nothing that couldn’t have been anticipated; she had spent her entire life being groomed for leadership.

Perhaps that was part of the reason it felt so unexpected to her.

Not that her team, or the world, would ever realise that. But, after spending so long as the recipient of her father’s criticism, his disappointment, his stern judgement that seemingly could never be assuaged by anything she did or accomplished, to be trusted like this was…honestly, a little surprising.

Why could Professor Ozpin, who barely knew her, trust her more than her own father did?

And could she be worthy of the trust that he had placed in her?

Does Winter ever feel unequal to the task?

Not that she would dare ask her sister to find out. No, she had to be like Winter: stern and in control at all times. The world must never see beneath the icy mask of a true Schnee.

“So, on a scale of one to hot,” came the voice of Russell Thrush from through the door, “how would you guys rate our team leader?”

“Come on, do you really think that’s appropriate?” asked Flash Sentry.

“Don’t be like that, dude,” Russell said. “Nobody likes that guy, certainly not a girl.”

“I rate her out of your league, Russell,” Cardin declared.

“But not yours, right?”

“I don’t need to play that game,” Cardin said, “because unlike you losers, I already have a girlfriend.”

Russell scoffed. “Yeah? Pictures, or she doesn’t exist.”

“What, you think I’d just make up a girlfriend?” Cardin demanded. “How old do you think I am?”

Are we talking physical years or mental ones? Weiss wondered.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway,” Russell said. “You can own a car and still admire the other models in the showroom, right?”

“Really, guys? Really?” Flash said.

“Dude,” Russell said. “Are you really telling us you don’t think she’s hot? 'Cause she’s an eight and a half on the Russell scale.”

“No, I’m not saying that she isn’t gorgeous; I’m just saying that-“

Weiss stopped listening. Honestly. She wasn’t sure if it was them…or if she’d been naïve to hope for anything better.

Perhaps I should just be grateful that they find me attractive and not my father’s money.

But she would manage them. They might be jerks, but she would manage them. She had seen Winter reduce Atlesian soldiers to silence by her mere presence, and she would do the same.

Though a part of her might have liked to not have to.

Weiss sighed again, and as she pulled off her bolero, she turned to face the mirror. Her face, her scarred face, her eight and a half face, stared back at her.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me, who’s the loneliest of all?

As the only guy in a team with three girls, Sky Lark had been banished to the bathroom to change for bed, while Blake, Lyra, and Bonnie - or Bon Bon, as she had been emphatic about being referred to by everyone - used the bedroom.

Blake had changed quickly and now sat on her bed, observing Lyra and Bon Bon as they, with a degree of chattiness that was only partially explained for Blake by the fact that they were old friends, got undressed in a far more lackadaisical manner marked by frequent pauses for involved conversation.

Blake let what they were actually saying wash over her as she studied them. Her troops, her teammates. Hers to lead and to protect.

She was no stranger to leading. She had led troops into battle in the past, but this…this was different. She had come to Beacon expecting to follow orders, not to give them.

She had come to Beacon expecting – hoping – to be anonymous. Now, three pairs of eyes would be turned towards her at all times.

Did she want it? No.

Would she do it? Did she have a choice?

Could she do it? Yes. She had seen her father lead; she had seen Sienna Khan lead; she had seen Adam lead, and his descent into darkness didn’t change the fact that he was an effective leader by any reasonable measure. She had led, though she might not have led anyone like Lyra or Bon Bon or Sky.

In her prior experience, there were three kinds of people Blake had found herself leading: idealists, gangster wannabe idiots, and those who liked the violence far more than they had ever cared for the cause. She liked to tell herself that she had been in the first category and that she’d gotten out before she could fall into the third.

Her teammates could not be the first, and Blake very much hoped that they were not the second or the third.

So she would have to find another way to lead them. She could not lead as she had led in the past. She wasn’t sure if she’d want to.

She might not stay at Beacon. Something might happen: Adam might find her, she might find a reason to run from here just as she had run to here, but until then, she would lead.

They were her responsibility now.

Not least because, without meaning to be unduly harsh to anyone, Blake had the distinct impression that these three were not the best of the new freshman class. In fact, there had been times during Initiation when it had felt as though she was carrying the three of them on her back.

Never mind. That was something she had prior experience with too.

Bon Bon, who had finally gotten changed into a blue top with white pyjama bottoms, got up off her bed and headed for the door. “I just need to pop out for a second.”

Blake glanced her way. “Fine, but why?”

“I just need to call my parents,” Bon Bon said. “Tell them that I got through Initiation, that sort of thing.”

Blake nodded. Bon Bon might not be the best student in the school, but she seemed pleasant enough, and she was fortunate that she was in a position to call her parents and let them know how things had gone.

“Give them my love!” Lyra cried.

Bon Bon smiled. “Will do,” she said, before she left the room. The door closed softly behind her.

Bon Bon – or Sweetie Drops, to use the name her natural parents had given her – sighed as she leaned against the wall. She was an Atlesian girl of average height, her eyes a deep, ocean blue, her hair divided neatly into two halves, one pink, the other a deep blue-grey. It was about the only distinguishing feature about her, the only thing that would make you notice her, the only reason you wouldn’t pass her on the street without a second thought.

And she was a liar. And not just because she’d changed her name.

Team BLBL. This was not what she had wanted.

More importantly, it wasn’t what her assigned superior had wanted either.

I kind of wish you hadn’t loaned me to her, Doc.

Her hands shook ever so slightly as she opened up her new scroll. Bon Bon tried to control herself as she called the boss, voice only.

It took a moment for her to get a response. “Yes?” asked the voice, smooth and rich, from out of the scroll.

“I’m in,” Bon Bon said, deciding to start with the good news.

“As expected. What team were you assigned?”

Bon Bon swallowed. “Not the one you were hoping for,” she admitted. “I wasn’t able to get close to Nikos.”

“That’s…unfortunate. Who is on your team?”

“Lyra Heartstrings,” Bon Bon said. “Sky Lark, and our team leader is Blake Belladonna.”

“Who?” came the reply from out of the scroll. “Is it possible that Doctor Watts overstated your value to me?”

“I’m still in the right year,” Bon Bon said. “I can still gather intelligence, do everything you require of me.”

“I suppose so,” replied the voice on the other end of the scroll. “I want your preliminary report by the beginning of half-term. I want to know who I should be worried about by the time I arrive from Mistral. And if I need anything else from you…I’ll let you know.” She chuckled. “Get some rest, Sweetie; tomorrow, your assignment begins in earnest.”

Bon Bon snapped shut her scroll.

She wished that Lyra wasn’t here. She supposed that it was her fault that Lyra was here, what with how close she’d allowed herself to get at Canterlot and her failure to end things there, but all the same, she wished that Lyra wasn’t here.

She wouldn’t have to mark the other girl as a threat; she knew from Canterlot that Lyra was basically harmless to anything more dangerous than a juvenile beowolf. But just because she wasn’t a threat didn’t mean that she was going to escape from all the horror that was going to be unleashed on Beacon this year.

Only a few students were likely to make the cut as being worthy of notice – Pyrrha Nikos was pretty much on the list already, and Weiss Schnee was a strong possibility – but the great majority, though they were beneath notice, would suffer the unthinking blows all the same.

You didn’t have to be dangerous to be at risk of not getting out alive; quite the reverse, in fact.

This was what she had to do. This was who she was. And for Doctor Watts, she would complete her mission, gladly.

But all the same, she wished Lyra wasn’t here.

Bon Bon opened the dorm room door and went back inside.

As they were a team with two guys and two girls, the members of Team YRDN were taking turns to get changed in the bathroom. It was currently Dove's turn, Nora having gone first. Ren sat on his bed doing maintenance on his weapons; Nora was bouncing up and down on the bed, while Yang looked out of the window, seeing nothing, lost in thought.

I did say that being on different teams would be good for her, I guess.

That doesn't mean I have to like it now that it's actually happened, though.

It would probably be good for Ruby, to make friends with other people. Break out of her shell. And Jaune and Pyrrha seemed nice, although Yang would have preferred if Ruby’s team leader were a little friendlier - Sunset was a bit too stand-offish for Yang’s liking - but she didn't know any of them all that well. Of course she was going to make it a point to get to know them and to make sure that they knew her and what she was capable of, but she probably shouldn’t let herself get too down on the basis of rushed judgement.

Ruby would be fine, probably. She'd taken down Roman Torchwick's whole gang with only a little bit of help from that Sunset Shimmer girl, after all.

But whenever Yang looked at her little sister, there was a part of her that still saw the little girl who used to crawl into Yang's bed when she was scared or having nightmares.

“I’m right here, Ruby. I promise, I won’t ever leave you.”

Yang smiled. It was probably stupid to expect a school like Beacon to abide by a kid's promise like that...but that didn't stop her wanting to bust down the door to Team SAPR's room and lay down the law.

She'll be fine. It's fine. Everything's fine.

It better be.

This was a good thing. Ruby needed to make new friends. She needed to find people she could rely on because...well, Yang wasn't going to be around forever for her to lean on. Ruby thought that she could do anything as long as she had Crescent Rose in hand, but sometimes, you needed someone to have your back, and Yang wasn't always going to be there for that. It was good that she was going to find other people who would have her back when her big sister couldn't.

But as Ruby's big sister, that didn't make it any easier to leave her behind.

Accepting her offer at Beacon had been hard enough knowing that Ruby would be stuck on Patch without her for the next two years; Dad and Uncle Qrow had had to sit her down and promise to both look after Ruby while Yang was gone. And when Ruby had gotten her offer to attend Beacon two years early, Yang had just felt so relieved that Ruby was going to be where she, Yang, could keep an eye on her.

She would just have to accept that she wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Ruby all the time.

It was for the best. It would make things easier in the long run...for both of them.

Goodnight, Ruby.

I love you.

As Dove came out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of unfortunately brown PJs, Yang distracted herself from such thoughts by drumming on her knees and saying, “Okay, now we’re all here it’s time for introductions.”

Dove looked at her through his squinted eyes. “How do you mean?”

“Just, you know, we should get to know one another a little,” Yang said. “Names, likes and dislikes, hobbies, dreams for the future, that kind of thing.”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Nora said, flopping down onto the bed but raising her hand as she did so. “Pick me! Pick me!”

Yang grinned. She already had a feeling that she and Nora were going to get on great. “Go for it,” she said, pointing Nora’s way.

Nora sat up, and cleared her throat. “My name is Nora Valkyrie. I like pancakes with just about any topping but especially with syrup, and I don’t like the extra time you have to wait because somebody tells you the pancakes aren’t ready even though they clearly are, Ren!”

“You have to give them time to brown, Nora,” Ren said, with long-suffering resignation.

“And my dream,” Nora continued, “is to find somewhere we can settle down and be respected, because having to keep moving on all the time can get really exhausting, you know?”

“Nice,” Yang said. “And you’re here for the next four years, so I’d say you're well on your way to that. Anyway, now that Nora has shown us all how it’s done, I’ll go next: my name is Yang Xiao Long, and unlike Nora, I don’t really want to settle down because I like meeting new people, seeing new places, having new experiences. I...don’t really dislike anything. I think you should always keep an open mind about stuff. My hobby is racing my motorcycle, Bumblebee, and my dream is to one day travel across all four kingdoms and beyond.”

“Why?” Dove asked.

Yang shrugged. “Just to see what’s out there, isn’t that enough?” She paused. “So, which of you two boys wants to go next?”

Ren and Dove looked at one another. It was Ren who spoke. “My name is Lie Ren, and I don’t particularly care for people who hover in the kitchen demanding to know when the next meal will be ready.” He glared at Nora, who simply sniggered. “My hobbies include cooking, baking, calligraphy, flower arranging, interior design-“

“Your hobbies include all of those things?” Yang demanded.

Ren shrugged. “I dabble.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “Okay. Sorry, please go on.”

“There’s not much else,” Ren admitted. “My dream…is to prevent any child from being left orphaned, or alone, while I have the power to prevent it.”

The room fell silent after that, at least for a moment.

“That’s what we’re all here for, in the end,” Yang said. “That’s what a huntsman does, after all.” She grinned, and sought to restore some levity to the room. “Okay, you’ve got a tough act to follow; let’s see what you come up with, Dove.”

“Well, obviously, my name is Dove Bronzewing,” Dove said. “I like growing vegetables, and I don’t really dislike anything. I…never really had time for any hobbies. My dream…I came here to find someone, but I haven’t seen her here.”

“Her?” Nora asked, leaning forward. “Did you come here to find a girl? Are you together-together?”

“I…it…sort of,” Dove said. “I mean, I hoped…she lived in the woods, not far from our village. About a year ago, a little after her mother died, she told me that she was coming here, to Beacon. I promised that I’d meet her here when I was old enough, but now I’m here, and…she isn’t.”

“Don’t give up yet,” Yang implored him. “It’s a big school, and we spent all day in the forest.”

“Plus, she would be in the year above ours,” Ren pointed out.

“I’m not sure if she’s a student,” Dove said.

“Why else would she be at Beacon?” Yang asked.

“I don’t know,” Dove replied. “That’s what she told me.”

“Well, why don’t you tell us her name, and we can keep our ears open for you?” Yang suggested.

Dove looked at her, and his eyes were visible for once. Yang was surprised by how blue they were. “Amber,” he said. “Her name is Amber.”

Sunset had never had to share a room before, but on the other hand, this dorm room was a lot nicer than the boarded up dust shop she had been living in before this, even if it was a little smaller than the room that she'd enjoyed all to herself when she was Celestia's personal student. She'd had a lot of time to get used to the fact that she was no one's personal student anymore.

And it's not as if I've got anything like as much stuff as I had back then. Sunset had left most of her Equestrian possessions behind in Equestria, and she'd not acquired very many replacements since coming to Remnant. Everything she had was in her backpack, which she started to unpack while Jaune was in the bathroom.

The room was devoid of conversation as she worked; both Pyrrha and Ruby were cleaning their weapons in silence, with only the ambient clicks and rattles of their work to disturb the room. Sunset would get to that with Sol Invictus, but she wanted to unpack first so that she didn't have to worry about it later.

Plus, with Jaune in the bathroom and the two girls fully occupied with their work, no one was going to spy on her stuff.

At the top of her bag, the first thing that confronted her when she unclipped it and opened it up was a big stuffed unicorn with glass eyes and a smile sewn onto its face. It was white, with a golden horn and a pink mane. It smiled benevolently up at Sunset from out of the bag.

Sunset stared down at it. She wasn't entirely sure why she still had this. Flash had won it for her at the fairgrounds of the last Vytal Festival; she'd found it amusing at the time. She probably ought to have gotten rid of it after they broke up, but...she hadn't. She'd never quite gotten around to it, and when the time came to leave it behind, she'd found that she couldn't quite do that either. Stupid, right?

Nevertheless, she plucked the unicorn out of the bag and set it up on her bed near the pillow.

"Aww, that's so cute!"

Sunset looked up and over her shoulder. Ruby was staring at the stuffed unicorn with a big smile on her face. Sunset looked away without saying anything; as far as she was concerned, there was nothing to be said.

"Is it a memento from home?" Pyrrha asked.

If only you knew, Sunset thought. "No. My ex-boyfriend gave it to me."

"I see," Pyrrha murmured. "You still care for him, then?"

"Pfft, no!" Sunset said, more loudly than the situation perhaps warranted. But her cheeks were starting to heat up, and it was hard to keep the requisite handle on her volume control. She let slip a disdainful snort. She stood up, turned around, and planted her hands on her hips as she glared at Pyrrha. "As a matter of fact, I'll have you know that I broke up with him, and I could care less about that stupid jackass now. I just..." Her mouth twisted with annoyance as she realised that there was nothing she could say to explain why she still had that stupid cuddly toy. So she went on the attack as a distraction. "Anyway, what about you? I bet you've got a shelf full of trophies to unpack, don't you?"

"Ooh, you have trophies?" Ruby cried.

Pyrrha's already fair face had gone as pale as alabaster. She looked away and at the nearest wall. "I didn't bring them with me."

"But what do you have trophies for?" Ruby asked.

"Pyrrha's a big tournament champion from Mistral," Sunset declared.

Pyrrha looked embarrassed about it, for all that Sunset couldn't imagine why anymore than she could imagine why Pyrrha wouldn't have brought at least some of her trophies with her. Didn't she realise how lucky she was? If Sunset had any trophies, she'd have put them up for the whole world to see. But, as Pyrrha started fielding questions from Ruby about her illustrious career, Sunset turned away and got back to her unpacking.

That'll teach her to poke her nose where it isn't wanted.

She returned to unpacking the rest of her stuff. There wasn't much: a second-hand chess set that had seen better days, a cheap fold-up board, a couple of changes of clothes, and a few cheap, dog-eared paperback books. And, of course, the magical journal that would have let her keep in touch with Celestia if the princess had bothered to look at it.

Something else I'm not sure why I keep around, Sunset thought, as she nevertheless lifted out the handsome, leatherbound book - embossed with her cutie mark - with a slowness that suggested reverence. Sunset hadn't used it since she came to this world, for all that this seemed like exactly the sort of situation that it had been designed for. She hadn't written a single word to her old teacher from this brave new world. She had been afraid of what Celestia might write back to her...and even more afraid that Celestia might not reply at all.

What would I have said to her, anyway? That I ran away in search of greatness and instead I found a world where I was treated like dirt on a boot-heel? That I was a victim of racism? That because of what I looked like I couldn't make it in this new world? That I was just a failure after all?

She would have pitied me, and out of pity she might even have invited me to come home.

But that kind of mercy would make me smaller than any amount of anti-faunus prejudice ever could.

They could beat her, they could mock her, they could call her names, they could even arrest her, but they could not take her pride away from her. Only Sunset could surrender it, and that, she would not do. She had no need to do so now, nor even to consider it. She was the team leader; she was a leader of men. She was on her way to a glorious future. She had only to lead, and to lead well, and all would be well in the garden of her ambitions.

Thankfully, no one had any need to teach Sunset Shimmer how to lead people. She had studied at the feet of Princess Celestia, who for one thousand years had ruled over the three races of ponykind wisely and well, and whatever Celestia's faults as a liar and a misleader of youth, Sunset would never deny that she, Celestia, was a great leader. All Sunset had to do was emulate her teacher - which, as her former student, she was uniquely positioned to do - and everything would work out fine.

Admittedly, Celestia probably wouldn't have reacted to being embarrassed by embarrassing someone else, but give her a break, it wasn't as though Celestia ever got embarrassed about anything. She didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, while Sunset did. But, in the main and starting now, Sunset would rule these creatures like a princess, with a firm hand and an air of detached serenity about her always.

She could tell Celestia that. She could write another entry in the magical journal and let her old teacher know what Sunset Shimmer had made of herself. For I am a mare set under authority, having warriors under me, and to Ruby Rose, I say 'go' and she goes, and to Pyrrha Nikos, I say 'come' and she comes, and to Jaune Arc, I do 'do this,' and he does it. Sunset could tell her that, and Celestia...would not reply. She never replied. She had given up on Sunset. Celestia didn’t care anymore.

No, Sunset would not write to Celestia tonight; she was in no mood to be met with silence.

Sunset angrily shoved the journal under the bed.

"Aww, that's so cute!"

Ruby's excited squeal made Pyrrha look up from cleaning the chamber of Akoúo̱ to see what had caused it. Sunset had seemingly decided to unpack her things before she maintained her weapon and had just deposited a stuffed unicorn toy at the head of her bed. Sunset looked at Ruby over her shoulder and then looked away without a word.

"Is it a memento from home?" Pyrrha asked. She would be the first to admit that she was not good at small talk, but she very much hoped that that was merely the result of a lack of practice on her part. If she was to be more than the Invincible Girl, if she was to be Pyrrha Nikos during her four years at Beacon, then she would need to practice, and this seemed an innocuous thing to start a conversation over.

"No. My ex-boyfriend gave it to me."

"I see," Pyrrha murmured, even though she really didn't. She'd never had a boyfriend, and she suspected that even if she had found someone who could see the girl beneath the fearsome reputation, her mother wouldn't have allowed her to date anyway. In truth, she felt a little jealous of Sunset Shimmer in that moment: to have been seen for herself, valued for herself more than for her accomplishments. No one had ever given Pyrrha a silly stuffed animal. She didn't have gifts from old boyfriends or mementos from home to personalise the room with. To distract herself from the certain sense of melancholy that she could feel within her, Pyrrha cast about for something else to say. "You still care for him, then?"

"Pfft, no!" Sunset said so loudly that she was practically shouting. Pyrrha knew that she had said the wrong thing even before Sunset physically rounded on her, cheeks flushed and hands on her hips, although she didn't exactly know why what she had said was so wrong and so frustrating to the other girl. "As a matter of fact, I'll have you know that I broke up with him, and I could care less about that stupid jackass now. I just...Anyway, what about you? I bet you've got a shelf full of trophies to unpack, don't you?"

"Ooh, you have trophies?" Ruby cried.

No. No, no, please no, not like this, not already. Pyrrha could feel her face, and her entire body, turning cold and pale. It had been going so well, and now, it was all going so wrong so quickly. Jaune had been unaware of her reputation, and Ruby had seemed the same way, and she had been so, so glad of that. She'd accepted that Ruby would find out eventually, just as Jaune had, but she'd hoped that it wouldn't be until after the other girl had gotten used to seeing her as a person, not a celebrity, and now, it was all happening too fast, and why had Sunset had to say anything? Pyrrha looked away in embarrassment. "I didn't bring them with me." She hadn't actually brought anything with her from home that she didn't strictly need to attend Beacon, but even if she'd had the choice, her tournament trophies were the last things in the world she would have taken with her.

"But what do you have trophies for?" Ruby demanded, with an eagerness that Pyrrha could not help but resent.

"Pyrrha's a big tournament champion from Mistral," Sunset announced, and with that announcement turned away as though her work was done.

Pyrrha flinched. Now it would come, as it always did: the fawning, the adulation, the talking to her as though she were no more than an Atlesian robot designed to win battles. Was coming here pointless after all? She had hoped that she might find people who were ignorant and uncaring of her prowess and reputation. Now, as Ruby's luminous silver eyes widened, that seemed a vain and childish hope.

"Oh my gosh, I knew I'd seen those weapons before!" Ruby cried. "They were featured in issue four-oh-eight of Weapons and Armour! They did a whole feature on them, right? Miló and Akoúo̱!"

Pyrrha's expression froze. That was honestly not the response that she'd been expecting. As a matter of fact, she had done a feature for Weapons and Armour shortly after her third tournament victory, or rather, she'd taken Miló and Akoúo̱ down to a studio where a professional photographer had taken a lot of pictures of them and an intern had asked her a few questions. It had been probably the most relaxing press visit she'd ever had to do; they'd even hired a professional model to pose with the weapons rather than her.

Pyrrha was surprised that that was where Ruby’s recognition came from. Demographically speaking, Ruby Rose was...not the target audience for Weapons and Armour magazine. "You read that?"

Ruby nodded excitedly. "Did you design it yourself? Did you build it yourself? How long did it take?"

"I can't claim complete credit for the design," Pyrrha murmured. "My mother had some input, but I assisted with every stage of the manufacture, even if I didn't do all the work." She ran her gloved fingers across the flat of Miló's blade form. "Our weapons are conduits for our aura, and for that reason, I believe it's important that they have a little piece of our soul inside them."

"I know, right?!" Ruby yelled. "I mean, I didn't come up with my Crescent Rose out of nowhere - I saw my uncle Qrow's Harbinger and it was a big inspiration - but I still built it because not building my baby would have been like...I don't know. That's why I named her Crescent Rose, because she's a part of my family."

Pyrrha smiled. She couldn't claim to know exactly what Ruby meant, but she understood the sentiments, and there was nothing wrong with them. And she couldn't help but be grateful that Ruby, in her focus on Pyrrha's weapons, hadn't yet asked about Pyrrha's tournament triumphs.

In fact, she didn't seem to care.

Perhaps...it was very early days and impossible to say for certain, but perhaps...perhaps this might just work out after all.

Jaune emerged from the bathroom to find everyone else in his new team hard at work. Sunset was silently cleaning out the cylinder of her gun, while Pyrrha and Ruby seemed to be letting their hands work on autopilot while they carried on a conversation.

"So why do you only have five rounds for your rifle; it doesn't seem like a lot. Even Sunset has more than that,” Ruby said.

"We experimented with more, but we found that any more than five rounds affects the balance in sword or spear form, and, honestly, I mainly use the rifle mode as a backup of last resort. I prefer to close with my opponents, and no arena is too large to make that impracticable."

"Ah, so that's why you don't use dust rounds either."

"Precisely."

"But don't you think that when fighting grimm it's good to be able to do as much damage as possible before they get close?"

"I admit that I don't have a huge amount of experience fighting grimm, but from what I saw in the Emerald Forest, they don't let you see them coming if they can avoid it."

Ruby cocked her head to one side as though she were considering the point. "I suppose that you've got a- oh, hey Ja-" she paused, stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing so hard that she fell back onto her bed clutching her sides.

"What?" Sunset looked up, with an expression on her face as though she suspected someone might be laughing at her. "What's going on?"

"What are you wearing?" Ruby demanded in between high-pitched cackles of laughter.

Jaune sighed. It was the onesie. Of course it was the onesie. He honestly should have seen this coming, given that it had Pumpkin Pete's face on it, and it was, well, a onesie, but all the same- "It's really comfortable!" he protested.

"It has bunny slippers!"

Jaune shuffled in discomfort. Pyrrha's expression was as inscrutable as she was silent, while Sunset was giving him a look that reminded him uncomfortably of his sisters.

And then she pulled out her scroll and took a picture of him.

Jaune recoiled from the flash of her scroll. "What was that for?"

"I want to immortalise these halcyon days of our youth," Sunset said, in a voice that couldn't have sounded more insincere if she'd tried. "So, who's the bunny?"

"That's Pumpkin Pete!" Jaune cried. How could anyone not know who Pumpkin Pete was? Where had she been living? "You know, like the cereal? The cartoon?"

"I buy the store brand because I'm broke," Sunset said, "but I'll take your word for it."

Jaune made his way over to his bed and sat down heavily upon it. Ruby's laughter was starting to die down now, but it rang in his ears all the same. He looked at her, and at Pyrrha, and then looked over his shoulder Sunset.

Do I really belong here? Do I really belong with them? Ruby and Pyrrha were both awesome, and even Sunset was pretty cool, even if she wasn't in their league, but he was just...he was just Jaune. How could he so much as help them, let alone be the hero straight out of his dreams?

Look at how dedicated they are. "How can you guys work on your weapons at a time like this?" he asked. "Aren't you tired?"

"The first thing Uncle Qrow taught me after I got Crescent Rose was how to take care of her," Ruby said. "He told me 'You have to look after your weapon, kid, or she'll let you down when you need her the most.' Like, the scythe might not unfold properly, or the gun might jam."

"Oh," Jaune said. "Should I...I don't know, sharpen my sword or something?"

"I wouldn't advise doing that wantonly," Pyrrha said, calmly and patiently. "You'll wear out the blade if you sharpen it unnecessarily."

There was no malice in what she said, but her words pricked him nonetheless with a reminder of his general uselessness. That feeling only lingered as he sat, pointless, as the girls worked around him.

He was grateful when they were all done and Sunset turned out the lights.

Tomorrow was another day, after all, and things could only get better.

Ruby lay on her side in the bed, with the silk of her grimm-eyed sleep mask pressing against her face and blocking out all the light that might have gotten in through the crack in the curtains. She had no idea if the others were asleep or not. It had only been a little while since the lights went out.

Despite being in a room with four other people, Ruby felt lonelier than she had ever been in her life. That was nothing against her new roommates, her new teammates, her new friends; rather...this was only the second night that she'd spent away from home in her life, without Yang, Dad, and Zwei all within yelling distance. This was the first night that she'd spent without Yang nearby. Even though her big sister was in the same school as her, with their teams split up, they might as well be on the other side of Sanus when curfew hit.

She'd wanted this. She'd wanted it so badly, but now that it was actually here, she...she missed home. She missed Dad, she missed her stuffed grimm on the walls, she missed her room, she missed having Yang next door, she missed Zwei, she missed...she missed home.

Maybe this was what Yang meant when she said Ruby needed to break out of her shell, that she needed to stop being such a baby about this stuff? But Ruby couldn't help feeling homesick, and if she did, then so what? Why was that a bad thing? Maybe - hopefully - Beacon would start to feel like home eventually, but right now, home was home. And she missed it.

Goodnight, Yang. Goodnight Dad. Night, Mom.

Ruby's arm hung out over the bed, and as Ruby shuffled under the covers, her fingertips brushed against the wall. She frowned under her sleep-mask; something didn't feel quite right. There was something...carved into the wall? Ruby pulled off her mask and squinted into the dark where her fingers had found the disturbance. The broken moonlight slipping past the scarlet curtain was too dim for her to properly see what it was.

"Guys, can I put the lights back on?"

"Why?" Sunset demanded.

"Because I need to see something; it will only take a second."

Sunset grumbled wordlessly for a moment. "Okay, I'll do it." Ruby heard the sounds of someone getting out of bed and padding across the floor before the lights flicked on.

Ruby blinked against the sudden brightness for a second. Then she saw what it was that she'd felt on the wall. "Whoa," she gasped. "Guys, come on, check this out."

Pyrrha was out of bed much faster than Jaune, but eventually, they all crowded around Ruby's bed, standing over her and looking down at the wall beside her, into which had been carved the initials ‘S T R Q’, and over the letters were engraved four markings: a rose, a fiery heart, and a pair of wings facing in opposite directions away from one another.

A smile blossomed across Ruby's face. "This is amazing." I can't wait to tell Yang about this.

"Uh...I kinda feel like I'm missing something here," Jaune said.

"Former students, one would assume," Pyrrha said. "Occupants of this room before us."

"Not just any former students," Ruby said, as she ran her fingers over the letters. "This S, that's for Summer Rose, my mom. The T is for Taiyang Xiao Long, my dad. And that's my Uncle Qrow, right there." This was Mom's room, and Dad's too, and they shared it with Uncle Qrow, and with Raven, Yang’s…my stepmom.

This was Mom and Dad's room. They had slept here, where Ruby was sleeping now. It felt more homely and less alien to her already, as though her parents and her uncle had each left a piece of themselves behind here to comfort her.

She beamed up at her teammates, until her smile faded upon the abrupt realisation that this discovery, so fascinating and important to her, meant less than nothing to them. "I...I'm sorry, guys, I just-"

"Hey," Jaune said, with an easy smile. "We get it. And you know what? I think it's pretty cool. I bet they're all badass huntsmen and huntresses now, right?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Uncle Qrow's one of the best. My Dad mainly teaches at Signal now, but he's still really strong."

Jaune nodded. "And your mom?"

"Mom,” Ruby hesitated, the breath catching in her throat. “My mom's not around any more."

Jaune's face fell so quickly it was as though a bottomless pit had opened up beneath it. "Oh. Oh, Ruby, I am so sorry; I'm such a-"

"It's okay, really," Ruby said quickly, before things got awkward. "You didn't know, so it's all good, right?"

"The dead are not departed while their memory endures," Pyrrha said softly. "Your mother lives in you, and all who loved her."

Ruby smiled. “Thanks, Pyrrha; that…that’s really nice.”

Pyrrha nodded. “So long as we remember those who went before us, then they keep us company and lend us strength to walk the path before us.”

Sunset turned away. "Nobody move," she said peremptorily, even as she herself went back to her bed. She grabbed her Sol Invictus, but with her back to Ruby, it was impossible to see exactly what she was doing until she turned back around, having just detached the bayonet blade from the rifle so that she could hold it in one hand like a knife or a short sword.

"Okay, make some room," Sunset commanded, as she walked down the room and jumped onto Ruby's bed.

"What are you doing?" Jaune asked.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "You mean to say it isn't obvious? Come on, guys, what do you think I'm doing?" She jabbed her bayonet into the wall and began to work it, until over the STRQ emblems she had carved the letters ‘S A P R’, and over the S in SAPR, she had carved a blazing sun divided down the middle.

Sunset passed the bayonet to Jaune. "Make your mark, bunny boy."

Jaune got onto Ruby's bed, and into the wall, he carved the mark of a double crescent. Pyrrha went next, and over her initial, she delicately carved a spearhead striking upwards. Ruby was the last to be handed the bayonet, and with a slightly trembling hand, she carved a rose identical to the one her mother had left before her.

Silently, she handed the sword bayonet back to Sunset.

"There," Sunset said, as their shadows fell upon the wall and the initials and the marks that they had made. "Now, when we four are all badass huntsmen and huntresses, whoever has this room then will be in awe that we used to sleep in this room."

"And we'll stay friends, like Dad and Uncle Qrow," Ruby said.

"Yeah," Jaune said, as Pyrrha clasped her hands together above her heart and glanced towards him.

"Let's not go nuts," Sunset muttered. "We should get to bed." She turned away.

Ruby lay on her side, staring at the marks that her parents had made, and the marks that her team had made, as the others returned to their own beds. The lights went out, and the bedroom was plunged into darkness once more.

A smile lingered on Ruby's face. "Goodnight, Jaune."

"Goodnight, Ruby,” Jaune replied.

"Goodnight, Pyrrha,” Ruby called.

"Goodnight, Ruby," Pyrrha said. "Goodnight, Jaune."

"'Night, Pyrrha,” Jaune said, before he yawned.

"Goodnight, Sunset,” said Ruby.

Silence.

"Goodnight, Sunset,” Ruby said again.

Silence.

"Psst!" Jaune hissed. "Sunset!"

Sunset's voice came lazily and slowly. "Seriously? We're really doing this?"

"Come on,” Jaune said. “Don’t be like that.”

Sunset sighed. "Goodnight, Ruby."

Goodnight, Mom.

Sunset lay on her bed, hands crossed beneath her head, staring up at the dark ceiling above her.

Goodnight, my little Sunbeam. Sweet dreams.

Sunset scowled. She was a grown woman now; she didn't need Mommy to wish her good night or tuck her in or make her hot chocolate with marshmallows in.

You're not my mother. And I was a fool to ever forget that.

She needed to look to the future now, not the past. Celestia was behind her; her team was the future.

If Celestia is behind me, then why does she yet loom so large in my mind?

Sunset rolled over onto her side. Because I'm here because of her, in the end. Because all that I have done and sought to do has been because of her influence. Sunset's youth had been a longing for the crown. All her studies, all her accomplishments, all of it had been designed to bring her to the point where she would ascend and be exalted amongst ponies. And in the end, it had happened to someone else, to Cadance, that insipid, soppy mare, and Celestia had confessed to her that all of it, her dreams, her future, her glorious destiny...it had all been a lie.

I refuse to accept that. Sunset knew that Celestia was wrong; she knew that she had greatness in her, even if her mentor would not acknowledge it. So she had run and run, through the mirror to a new world, in search of glory.

She hadn't found it yet. Sunset still lingered for a crown to rest its burnished laurels on her brow, but it would come. It would come as sure as spring to chase away the cold that gnawed at her, and when it came, the crowds would cheer out her name as sweet as nectar and ambrosia of the gods of Remnant: Sunset! Sunset! Sunset! Would that not fill up the emptiness that dogged her? Would it not fill the empty vessel of her spirit to overflowing? It must, for if it did not...what would?

Sunset turned her mind from this uncomfortable topic of self-reflection to reflect instead upon the characters of her new teammates. Ruby and Pyrrha had much potential to be her instruments, strong and swift and skilled with their array of weapons. Sunset was far less convinced of the usefulness of Jaune Arc, but she was stuck with him now, so doubtless, she would find some use to make of him. They would all serve her purposes, for she would allow none of them to get in her way.

They were her team, and like a team of pegasi, they would pull her chariot and carry her to glory.

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: First order of business is to note a small edit made to 'Reconnaissance' in which Sunset's having written in the magical journal before now has been removed. She has considered it but not acted on it.

Otherwise the big changes here are no contact from Winter for Weiss, and the reveals about Dove and Bon Bon.

The First Step (Rewritten)

The First Step

Jaune was awake just as the sunlight began to peek in through the cracks of the curtains.

He told himself that it was because he was used to getting up early, to do the chores, rather than because he was nervous or anything.

And he would have been doing the chores. Back home, he would have gotten up, thrown on yesterday’s clothes, and went out to take care of the animals. Sky – and Kendal, when she was home – got a pass on chores around the house because they had jobs, and Aoko got a pass because…she was Aoko, but everyone else had to muck in and help out in some way. Rouge kept the house clean and tidy and did the laundry; River looked after the allotment out back; Jaune and Violet took care of the animals. More recently, Dad had been having Jaune help him out with any handiwork that needed doing, like when a few roof tiles fell off over the winter.

Jaune lay in bed, thinking about what he would have been doing if he’d still been home. He would have started with the cow, and then he would have moved on to the chickens.

Thinking about it like that, Jaune found himself needled with guilt for having left the way he had. Who was going to do those chores now? Would Violet have to pick up the slack, or would Aoko be trusted enough to help?

Would they be able to manage?

Sure. Sure they would. Dad could do a little more, and maybe Mom too. They’d find a way; there were enough people in the house without him to keep on going.

It’s not like he was indispensable.

It’s not like anyone had cared enough to come and get him.

Jaune rolled over onto his side. He needed to worry a little less about how his family was getting by without him – because seriously, they’d be fine – and more about how he was going to get on at this school.

Yesterday had been a lesson to him. A lesson that his teammates were a lot stronger than he was and that he wasn’t just going to be able to waltz in and be the hero like he’d initially thought he would.

Maybe this isn’t going to be quite so easy as I thought.

Forget the Initiation for a minute, just the memory of Pyrrha swinging his sword, a weapon that she had never held in her life before that moment, with a grace and skill that he couldn’t match and then handing it back to him and pronouncing it good. She was just…there was no comparison between the two of them.

Jaune consoled himself with the fact that Pyrrha was apparently some big shot celebrity fighter back in her home country, so of course she was a lot better than he was.

Mind you, Ruby was pretty slick herself, and even Sunset…

Could it be that he had ended up on the team with the most talented students in his year, or was everyone at Beacon so far above him?

I might have to work harder than I expected. But I’ll manage somehow. This…this is in my blood, right?

Jaune heard someone moving behind him. He rolled over onto his other side to see Pyrrha getting out of bed. Her hair was unbound, descending in a great wave to just below her waist, but neither copious amounts of bedhead nor a lack of makeup nor even her very plain dun brown pyjamas could hide the fact that she was gorgeous.

Not as beautiful as Weiss, not quite, but still.

Jaune sat up. “You’re up early,” he said, whispering so as not to disturb Ruby or Sunset.

Pyrrha looked at him. “So are you,” she observed, in an equally soft and quiet voice.

Jaune smiled uncertainly. “Force of habit, I suppose.”

“Ah,” Pyrrha murmured. She hesitated for a moment. “I was just about to go for a run. Would…would you care to join me?”

Jaune thought about it for a little bit. It was kind of early, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Sure,” he said, extricating his feet from underneath the covers and reaching for his trainers underneath the bed. “Thanks for the offer.”

“You’re welcome,” Pyrrha said, a soft smile playing across her face as she hastily tied back her hair into a ponytail, then sat down on the bed to put on her boots. She seemed to have every intention of running in her pyjamas; Jaune supposed that was an advantage of said PJs being so plain and ordinary. On the other hand, even leaving aside the fact that he was already starting to regret his blue Pumpkin Pete onesie, it probably wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing to go for a run in.

“Um,” he said. “Would you mind closing your eyes for just a second?”

“Hmm?” Pyrrha murmured, sounding confused. Her eyes widened, and her face reddened as she realised why he had asked. “Oh! Oh, of course.” She not only closed her eyes, but turned away from him as he hastily pulled on socks, jeans, and a T-shirt.

“You can open up again now,” he said softly as he pulled on his trainers.

Pyrrha opened her eyes and finished pulling on her boots.

They both moved quietly; Jaune was used to tiptoeing around sleeping sisters: when Kendal was back home from the Corps, she would sleep in a lot, and everybody tried hard not to disturb her. Pyrrha seemed to be pretty good at keeping her noise down too. Neither Ruby nor Sunset had woken up by the time they both left the dorm room. They kept a similar level of consideration for their fellow freshman as they made their way down the corridor and staircase until they left the dorm room and emerged into the courtyard.

“Um, you do have your scroll, right?” Jaune asked, as the door – which was on an electronic lock that required a student or staff member scroll to open – shut behind them.

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “I have it right here.” She pulled the device out of the breast pocket of her pyjamas.

“Great,” Jaune said, with a sigh or relief. “Because I…just realised that I’ve forgotten mine.”

Pyrrha let out a little giggle of laughter. “I’ll hold the door open for you.”

Jaune grinned nervously. “Thanks a lot.” He looked around. “So…running…um…I’m kind of waiting for you to take the lead on this.”

“I was just going to make a circuit of the grounds, maybe as far as the cliffs,” Pyrrha said. “Depending on how long that takes, I might do another circuit or two. It’s just jogging to warm up, not a spring.”

“Yeah, but the cliffs?” Jaune asked.

“The forest is out of bounds, but the cliffs aren’t,” Pyrrha replied. “But we can stick to the campus if you’d prefer.”

Great, now she thought that he was afraid. “No,” Jaune said quickly. “The cliffs are fine. Do you want to start right away?”

“Just a moment,” Pyrrha said, as she started stretching, limbering her arms and legs in preparation. Jaune did his best to copy her movements, and Pyrrha was kind enough not to comment that he wasn’t doing it particularly well.

The door opened behind Jaune. “Hey there!” cried one of the other students as she stepped outside and joined them in the crisp morning air. In the dawn’s early light, Jaune could see that she was dressed, like Pyrrha, in her bedclothes: a white top and blue bottoms. She was one of the members of Team BLBL, if Jaune remembered right; it was going to take him a day or two to get used to all of these names, but he remembered her face and her distinctive hair, neatly divided into half pink and half blue-grey.

“Good morning,” Pyrrha greeted the other girl courteously. “It’s Miss Bonaventure, isn’t it?”

“Please, call me Bon Bon,” Bon Bon said breezily, “and of course I know who you are, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha’s manner became noticeably less relaxed. So noticeably that even Jaune noticed it. “Yes,” she said quietly, “I suppose you do.”

“Yeah, I saw you win your last tournament title,” Bon Bon said eagerly. “That Arslan was so outclassed, I don’t know why she even bothered to compete.”

Pyrrha’s reply, when it came, was clipped and cold. “Arslan Altan is an exceptional fighter,” she declared, “for whom I have nothing but the greatest respect. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned away and took off, her ponytail bouncing slightly up and down behind her as she started jogging.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried, as caught unawares by her sudden departure he had to run to catch up with her, only slowing to a jog once he had pulled level with his partner, or near enough. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “For running off and leaving you behind; it’s just…Arslan deserves better than to be insulted in the name of some shallow flattery of me.”

“Is she a friend of yours?” Jaune asked.

“No,” Pyrrha conceded. “Perhaps the opposite, in fact, but all the same, she deserves better.”

They jogged across the whole length and breadth of the campus. Jaune was glad of the fact, because it meant that he got to see a lot more of the school than he’d seen just trying to find the amphitheatre on their first day. They ran between the old-fashioned columns that surrounded the courtyard; they ran past the floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed them to see into the dining hall; they ran past Beacon Tower that loomed so large above their heads as it pierced the clouds; they ran past the main school building with all the lecture halls for their classes and where they had spent the night in the ballroom upon first arriving, and they ran past the amphitheatre which included their changing rooms. On their way to the cliffs, they ran past large expanses of empty land that didn’t seem to be used for anything at the moment, and on their way back, they ran past the farm, which Jaune hadn’t even known that Beacon had. The sound of the chickens clucking away was a reminder of home both comforting and a little guilt-inducing. He tried not to think about it too hard as they made their way back down the main avenue.

They ended up in front of the statue that dominated the courtyard: the huntsman and huntress, armed with sword and axe, standing on the rocky outcrop with the beowolf beneath them.

Jaune and Pyrrha stopped, staring up at the man with his sword aloft who loomed so high above them both.

“Do you think it’s anyone in particular?” Jaune asked.

“In Mistral, it probably would be,” Pyrrha replied, “but here in Vale…I think it is more likely to be an idealised figure, representing all huntsmen and huntresses, rather than any two individuals.”

Jaune nodded. What Pyrrha said made sense. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t help but notice how similar that guy’s sword was to his Crocea Mors. It was probably just a coincidence - Crocea Mors had that kind of normal shape - but at the same time…he felt a little bit as though he was looking up at an image of one of his ancestors, or a mix of all of them. The heroic Arc men who had gone before him.

So much better than he was.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha asked, as she put a hand upon Jaune’s shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Jaune glanced at her. “My family,” he began. “The men in my family, they’ve all been warriors. My dad was a huntsman, my grandfather…I was just thinking…I’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Pyrrha nodded gravely. “And you will.”

“Will I?” Jaune asked. “How can you be so sure? You just met me.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “In my country,” she said, “we believe that one who possesses a noble lineage inherits the virtue of his ancestors and then burnishes it up with his deeds in turn. Your ancestors will lend you strength and valour, just as you will lend it to your descendants in your turn.”

Jaune wasn’t sure what to say. Pyrrha was trying to be nice, he was sure of that, but at the same time, it couldn’t help but sound a little bit kooky to him. “I wouldn’t say that I have a noble lineage-“

“Your ancestors have spent their blood in the service of humanity,” Pyrrha reminded him, her voice firm with conviction. “That is noble enough to lift the head of the poorest beggar. Be proud, Jaune; you and Ruby both have descent as noble as…as anyone, though I will not pretend that all will see it so.”

Jaune smiled. Even if he didn’t believe her, he believed that she was trying to help, and he was grateful for that. “Thanks. And what about your family?”

“My family?” Pyrrha asked, sounding surprised that he’d brought the subject up. “I…would you mind if we went back now?”

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said quickly. He didn’t know why Pyrrha didn’t want to talk about her family, but she’d just made it clear to him that she didn’t want to talk about it.

And that was fine by him.

Pyrrha hoped that Jaune didn’t take it as rudeness on her part that she had so abruptly cut off the conversation and headed back towards the dorms.

She hoped that Jaune didn’t take it as rudeness even though she had been rude. It was just that she…she was afraid, quite honestly. She didn’t want to lie to Jaune or to any of her teammates, but she was afraid of what might happen if she admitted to Jaune that she was a descendant of the last Emperor of Mistral. It might not matter - this was Vale, not Mistral, after all - but on the other hand, it might lead to all of the fawning that she had come to Beacon in part to get away from.

The brief conversation with Bon Bon had been an uncomfortable reminder of what it meant to be the Invincible Girl: people trying to suck up to her on the basis of her reputation, assuming that she would be susceptible to the most base and shallow flattery.

It was a reminder to her of how lucky she had been with Jaune and Ruby.

She glanced at Jaune over her shoulder and hoped that he didn’t notice her doing so. Not only a handsome young man, not only a kind one, but a huntsman sprung from a line of huntsmen too. Not that it made much difference, or at least it ought not to have…but her mother might look more kindly upon a young man who came from a ‘worthy’ lineage, even if he did not come from a traditionally noble one.

You’re getting impossibly ahead of yourself.

I know, but I can dream, can’t I?

They returned to the dorm room to find that Ruby was still asleep, though Sunset was awake and reading something on her scroll; the light from the screen illuminated her face in an expression of stern intensity.

Pyrrha, who had opened the door for Jaune, closed it now behind her. She cleared her throat loudly enough to attract the attention of her team leader and Jaune, but not so loudly as to wake Ruby. She gestured towards the bathroom.

Sunset waved one hand, which Pyrrha took to indicate that she was free to use the shower. Jaune also indicated that she was free to go first.

Pyrrha nodded in thanks and proceeded to quickly take off her boots and grab her uniform for today. Last night, when they arrived in the dorm room, they had each found three blouses or shirts as appropriate, three vests, three skirts or pairs of trousers each in their size, along with socks and stockings of various lengths and a single jacket. Pyrrha chose the full-length stocking to complete her ensemble and carried stockings, skirt, and blouse – and of course her circlet - into the bathroom with her.

The bathroom was a gleaming white, with three-quarter tiled walls below the last quarter of plain white plaster. A bathtub sat beside the sink, which was itself beside the toilet, but Pyrrha was more interested in the shower that stood behind the tub.

She placed the folded pile of her clothes neatly on top of the toilet seat – covered with a towel for protection from any steam that might escape the shower – and undressed in the privacy of the enclosed space.

Once inside the shower, Pyrrha allowed herself one brief moment of stillness, letting the hot water cascade down her back and limbs, washing away all weariness and tension, washing away what had come before and opening up the new day to new possibilities.

I have three teammates now. Will I have three friends?

She hoped so, but it was so early to say. At least Jaune and Ruby didn’t seem to care very much about her reputation as the Invincible Girl: Ruby was more interested in Miló and Akoúo̱ than in her, and Jaune only recognised her as a girl on the cereal box. There was a chance that they might see Pyrrha Nikos and appreciate her for whatever she was, as a friend and not merely a warrior and a winner of trophies.

If there is anything beyond my skill at arms to be appreciated.

Pyrrha shuddered. That was her darkest and most secret fear: that the reason no one could see her, see beyond the legend of the Invincible Girl, the reason why nobody could treat her like a person was that there was nobody there at all. Nothing to like, nothing to love, nothing to appreciate or befriend: just an empty suit of armour and a powerful semblance.

She hoped she was wrong. She hoped so very much that she was wrong.

But she couldn’t be sure.

But, if there was anything to Pyrrha Nikos besides the heroic lineage and the reputation carefully cultivated by her mother, then Jaune and Ruby had come closer to seeing it than most others.

As for Sunset Shimmer…Pyrrha wasn’t sure what to make of her. She seemed more aware of Pyrrha’s reputation than the other two, but she did not seem in awe of it. Rather…

I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it. I hope she didn’t mean anything by it.

Pyrrha shoved the thought to one side. She had used up her moment. She allowed herself to luxuriate in the shower, the water cascading through her hair and down her back to wash away all the dirt and sweat accumulate during the previous day, but not to ruminate. This was a new day, a new start; she would think only positive thoughts this morning.

As a result of unpacking last night, the counter above the sink was already covered with a variety of both bath and beauty products, and Pyrrha was glad to note that not all the latter belong to her. Some of them, like the dark smokey eyeshadow, belonged to Sunset. Pyrrha did not apply a lot of makeup, just a touch of blush to her cheeks once she had finished getting dressed, and a smidgeon of vivid green eyeshadow in a ‘wing’ effect like flames leaping from her eyes. The last thing to be put on was her circlet, threading it around her ponytail and onto her head.

Pyrrha looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. She was ready to face the day.

Sunset got in the bathroom next, after Pyrrha, and while she was putting on her face, she had ample time to consider the question of expectations.

While Pyrrha and Jaune had been getting their exercise and while Ruby had still been sleeping, Sunset had taken the opportunity to do a little research on her teammates. What she had found was both encouraging and challenging. She had known that she had been blessed, for a certain value of the word, with two talented teammates, but a cursory amount of research had made clear what she had not quite comprehended before, not only how talented they were, but also how high profile as well.

Pyrrha Penthesilea Penelope Alcestis Ariadne Hippolyta Nikos, to use her exhaustively complete name, was not just a tournament champion; she wasn’t just a girl with her face on a cereal box. She had literally never lost a fight in her life, not even in the kiddie leagues. Not only that, which would have been quite enough for most people, but the reason her name was so ridiculously long was that she was literal royalty. She was the direct descendant – at present, the last descendant, in direct line – of the Mistralian Emperor Odysseus V, last Emperor of Mistral.

Sunset was not native to Remnant, but she had lived there long enough to appreciate that this was quite something. There weren’t many scions of the old monarchies remaining in the public eye: the current claimant to the throne of Mantle was a moderately successful motorcycle racer, little known outside of aficionados of the sport like Sunset. Nobody seemed to know who the rightful heir to the throne of Vale, the right contested between a dozen distant cadet branches. Pyrrha was something rare and unusual: a direct descendant with an indisputable claim who was also famous and successful in her own right.

It was no surprise then that she was a celebrity in Mistral; her decision to attend Beacon rather than Mistral’s own Haven Academy had made the news, to the extent of causing a minor scandal. Sunset hadn’t sat down to read them, but she’d come across comment pieces calling for a change in the leadership of Haven Academy on the grounds that not even Mistral’s brightest star actually wanted to train in Mistral’s school.

Great things would be expected of Pyrrha at Beacon, beyond doubt. Sunset knew a little bit about that herself from her time under Celestia’s wing and personal tuition, knew what it was like to have those expectations riding on your back. She knew what it was to be in a position where to be average was to be considered a failure because the personal bar for your success had been raised so much higher. But Sunset’s own concerns were too immediate for her to spare much empathy for Pyrrha Nikos. The point was that if those expectations were not met and Pyrrha did not exhibit the expected greatness, if she did not live up to the accolade of being the most gifted student to grace the hallowed halls of Beacon in its history, then there would be no shortage of apologists willing to blame her conveniently faunus team leader for squandering her potential.

And then there was Ruby Rose. Ruby’s profile was not so high as Pyrrha’s, not by a long shot, but nevertheless, her early admission into Beacon had made the local news in the island backwater she called home, and the news that a fifteen-year-old would be attending Beacon had warranted a modest article in Vale’s leading newspaper. Ruby also had expectations riding on her; Ruby could also not be average if she wanted to prove that she deserved her place at this academy.

There might not be so many apologists ready to blame Sunset’s leadership if Ruby screwed up, but Sunset had no doubt that they would be there.

It was the dark flipside of being a leader: if your team succeeded, you got some of the credit; if your team failed, you got all of the blame, especially when you’d lucked into leading a team with the Invincible Girl and the child prodigy.

All of which meant that Sunset Shimmer had work to do.

If Celestia could see me now, having to play well with others in order to get ahead, she’d probably laugh at the irony.

But I’ll make it work somehow. It isn’t like I have much choice.

She finished applying her eyeshadow and examined herself in the mirror. Was it the face of a leader? Yes it was, for all that the school uniform didn’t do much for her.

One day, they won’t be able to talk about Pyrrha Nikos without mentioning Sunset Shimmer in the same breath.

She emerged from out of the bathroom with renewed determination to find that Pyrrha was sitting on her bed reading a textbook, while Jaune was reading what looked like a comic.

I’m glad to see someone has their priorities straight.

Ruby was still asleep.

“RIGHT!” Sunset said loudly, clapping her hands together for added emphasis. That woke Ruby up. She started and rolled out of bed to land on the floor with a soft thump.

Pyrrha got to her feet. “Ruby, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby groaned.

“Good morning, Team Sapphire,” Sunset declared with relish. She got out her scroll and swiped through to the day’s schedule that had been uploaded onto the device. “It is now seven o’clock in the morning. The canteen opens in half an hour, classes start at eight; if any of you are late for class, I, as your leader, will get in trouble, and that is not going to happen.” She swept her eyes across the three of them. “Do I make myself clear?”

“We didn’t come to Beacon to play games, Sunset,” Pyrrha replied, in a tone of mild reproach. “None of us are here to neglect our education.”

“Just checking,” Sunset muttered. She consulted the day’s plan again. “We have…we’re getting thrown into it today: Grimm Studies at eight, followed by Modern History at nine-thirty, followed by two hours of Personal Combat at ten-thirty, followed by lunch. After lunch, we have two hours of Plant Science, followed by Stealth and Security from three-thirty until four-thirty, then Fieldcraft is our last class of the day. Any questions?”

Ruby raised her hand. “What did you say the first class was again?”

Sunset’s tail twitched. “Jaune, get washed and dressed; Ruby, wake yourself up, and I’ll go over it all again.”

Jaune and Ruby were both quicker to get washed and dressed than Sunset and Pyrrha had been, a consequence of the fact that Jaune was a guy and Ruby didn’t seem to worry about things like making herself up. They were both dressed and ready to go by the time the canteen opened, and Sunset led her team out of the dorms. They joined a crowd of other students of all years making their way in the direction, and Sunset could hear them whispering about Pyrrha as Team SAPR made their way into the hall.

“Is that Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Yeah, that’s the Invincible Girl from Mistral.”

“I heard that she’s never even taken a hit.”

“She’s sure to come top in her year.”

“Whoever got her on their team really lucked out.”

“And she’s gorgeous too.”

Pyrrha frowned, and it was all that Sunset could do not to frown herself; not at the whispers, but at Pyrrha’s feigned disquiet in response to them. She loved it really; who wouldn’t? To be the object of attention wherever you walked, to have every eye and head turn towards you like flowers toward the sun. It was disingenuous in the extreme of Pyrrha to pretend otherwise, and Sunset was already starting to dislike the way she carried on. If she was going to be famous and popular, the least she could do is be honest about how much pleasure she got from it.

It was the same when they reached the cold counter: Pyrrha’s face stared up at the pair of them from a box of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes.

“I cannot help but be a little concerned,” Pyrrha murmured, “that something like that is being offered for breakfast at an elite academy like this.”

Oh, yeah, like that’s what you really think. Just admit you love the fact that we can all see your face on it already.

“Does that mean I shouldn’t have any?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha glanced at him. “It would probably be better if you had something a little healthier instead,” she advised him. Pyrrha herself selected a mixture of sausage and bacon from the hot counter, some fruit from the cold counter, and a glass of orange juice. Sunset was a vegetarian, so she eschewed the meat and stuck with the fruit and a cup of coffee to wake her before first class. Jaune took Pyrrha’s advice about the cereal and went for a full breakfast with eggs, hash browns, and black pudding. Ruby did not take Pyrrha’s advice and filled up a bowl with a mixture of all the least healthy, most high sugar-content cereals on offer, all lathered in full-fat milk.

“It’s a good job you move fast,” Sunset muttered, mildly aghast at Ruby’s choices.

They sat down at one of the many empty tables, and Sunset was about to make a start when-

“Is this seat taken?”

Sunset looked up to see Yang Xiao Long, Ruby’s sister and the expansively-haired leader of Team YRDN, looking down at her.

“Hey, Yang!” Ruby said enthusiastically.

Yang grinned. “Hey there, Rubes,” she said, reaching across the table to ruffle Ruby’s hair with one hand. She started to sit down, only to stop herself. “Sorry, you didn’t-“

“It’s fine,” Sunset grunted. “Be my guest.” Just because they were sat across the table didn’t mean she had to speak to them, after all.

“Thanks,” Yang said. “Hey guys, over here!” she waved to her team as they followed her into the hall, and eventually, the whole of Team YRDN had chosen their breakfasts and sat down opposite Team SAPR.

“So, this is my team,” Yang declared, spreading her arms wide to encompass the three new arrivals at the table. “Dove, Nora, Ren. Guys, this is-“

“Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset announced. She noticed that Dove was staring at her. Like, really staring; he hadn’t taken his eyes off her ever since she sat down. She put down her spoon. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Dove said, a little too quickly. “I…I’ve just…I’ve never seen…” he gestured just above his head.

The ears. Right. Of course it’s the ears. Said ears flattened against the top of Sunset’s head. “Yeah, well, get over it,” she snapped. “I’m a faunus, so what?” She looked down at her bowl of fruit and resumed eating aggressively.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, broken by Pyrrha’s soft, melodic voice. “Pyrrha Nikos,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“Likewise,” Ren responded calmly.

“This one right here is my little sister, Ruby,” Yang said. “And you…Jaune, right?”

“Jaune Arc, yeah.”

“You got a girlfriend, Jaune?”

“Yang!” Ruby protested, as Pyrrha glanced at Jaune curiously.

“Well, I mean, not exactly, but- Weiss!” Jaune called out, waving to Weiss Schnee who had just entered the cafeteria. Her team surrounded her like bodyguards, Cardin Winchester in particular looming over her with a particular presence. Flash Sentry looked at the YRDN-SAPR table with a frown of disquiet. Miss Schnee herself glanced at Jaune, and then turned away with her nose in the air, leading her team to a different table some distance away.

Jaune let out a dispirited sigh.

“Eesh, that’s gotta be, uh…” Yang muttered apologetically. “I, uh…” she stared at Jaune for a moment, with his head bowed and his face crestfallen. “So, yeah.”

“Hey, Yang,” Ruby yelled. “You’ll never guess what I found in our dorm last night.”

“What?”

“It used to be Mom’s room!” Ruby cried. “We found their initials and symbols carved into the wall: STRQ, that’s Mom and Dad and Uncle Qrow and...“ Ruby trailed off, her excited expression suddenly turning embarrassed. Sunset’s eyes narrowed. Was Ruby nervous about something? Who was this R, and what was it about her that had this effect on Ruby?

Yang frowned for just a moment, and a shadow passed over her face. “Yeah, and I can guess. But that…that’s amazing, Rubes. Like it was meant to be or something.”

“You should come by and check it out after classes. We carved our own names up there too, you know, for the future.”

Yang grinned. “Sounds cool. I’ll swing by and take a look.” She reached out and ruffled Ruby’s hair again, ignoring her little sister’s protest. “I’m proud of you, little sis.” The rest of breakfast passed in casual conversation between the two teams, conversation in which Sunset Shimmer took no part.

She said nothing while she ate but cast her gaze across Yang Xiao Long and her teammates. Nora Valkyrie talked too loudly and said too much, while Dove Bronzewing kept on stealing glances her way even though she’d told him not to; Lie Ren was as silent as Sunset herself. And Yang…was there some way that she and Ruby could be separated from one another, emotionally? Could she turn them against one another and ensure that Ruby’s loyalty was only with the team and not with her sister? Possibly, but was the reward worth the risk? Quite probably not. If Sunset got caught, then it would shatter the team, not to mention what Yang might do. Sunset didn’t know her well enough to say whether picking a fight with her would be a wise idea or not.

She would let it lie for now and see how things played out. If the sisterly closeness started to damage the team, she would act, but for now, she would simply observe.

Grimm Studies was the first class of the day, taught by Professor Port: a heavyset man with a walrus moustache who felt the need to have a gleaming gold bust of himself in his own classroom. He had also managed the feat, remarkable even by the standards of some of the doddering old unicorns Sunset had had to endure at Canterlot, of sending half the class to sleep by the time he had finished his introduction.

Sunset nudged Ruby with her elbow, perhaps a little harder than she had intended, in order to wake her up before her snoring became too obvious. Just because the professor was restating the obvious, that Vale and the other three kingdoms were safe havens of humanity, didn’t mean that they weren’t going to get on to the meat of the subject soon.

“But first,” Professor Port declared, “a story.”

Jaune groaned. Ruby bowed her head. Even Pyrrha, though she presented the image of a model student, seemed to be somewhat disheartened by those words.

Sunset gripped her pen a little tighter and prepared to take notes.

“A story of a brave, handsome man,” Professor Port continued. “Me. When I was a boy…”

Sunset scribbled away as he talked, using a shorthand that she had developed in order to keep up with Princess Celestia’s lectures. She glanced at her team, seated to her right, out of the corner of her eye: Ruby was doodling some kind of picture; Pyrrha was taking notes half-heartedly and sparsely; Jaune looked like he’d fallen asleep.

Sunset rolled her eyes. Didn’t they get it? Hadn’t they ever had a teacher who conveyed their lessons through stories before? Celestia used to do it all the time. Admittedly, Port wasn’t telling his story very well, and Sunset couldn’t say for certain what the lessons that he was trying to convey were, but that was why she was taking notes on everything that he seemed to focus on: so that she could read it back later and get the point.

If she had to guess, right now, Sunset would have said that it had something to do with the grimm rattling around in the cage in the corner of the classroom.

He’s telling a story about a boarbatusk, and then he’s going to let a boarbatusk out into the classroom, and we’re going to have to use the knowledge from his story to kill it.

“Despite smelling of cabbages, my grandfather was a wise man. ‘Peter, he said…'”

And here comes the useful bit.

She gave Ruby another hard nudge and gestured angrily for her to pay attention.

Ruby just grinned as she showed off a stick figure drawing of Professor Port, complete with smell lines.

Sunset let out a faint groan. Leading this team is going to be hard work, isn’t it?

What was that you said about nobody being here to neglect their education, Pyrrha?

“The moral of the story,” Professor Port said.

Ah, here we go.

“A true huntsman must be honourable.”

Honour? We’re fighting monsters, not other people, and even if we were fighting other people, then what matter honour so long as we win? Are we supposed to bow to the creatures of grimm and offer them the chance to take the first shot?

This isn’t going to be like all of those times when Celestia would tell a story and then finish up by telling me the importance of friendship even though that made no sense at all, is it?

“A true huntsman must be dependable.”

Weiss Schnee sniffed, and when Sunset glanced at her, she saw the white-haired girl was looking sceptically down upon Team SAPR.

Oh, like your team is so much better? You’ve got a guy who wouldn’t even stand up for his girlfriend on your team; what gives you any right to talk about dependability?

“A true huntsman must be strategic, well-educated, and wise.”

Sunset smirked at Weiss, just to pay her back for that little sniff. Judging by the scowl on her face, Weiss didn’t appreciate it too much.

“So, who among you believe yourselves to be the embodiment of these traits?”

Sunset’s and Weiss’ hands shot up into the air at the exact same time. “I do, sir!”

The two of them looked at one another. Weiss’ expression, from where she sat high up in the back of the classroom, looking down on Sunset, seemed to suggest that she ought to back down in favour of the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company.

Bite my tail, you jumped-up tradesman’s daughter. This is my first chance to show what I can do, and I’m not going to yield place to you.

“Oho, eagerness!” Professor Port declared jovially. “Always a pleasure to see that the future huntresses who will defend our kingdom are raring to go. Alright, Miss Shimmer, step forward and face your opponent.”

Better luck next time, Weiss.

One quick change later, and Sunset was out of uniform and back into her leather jacket and jeans, with Sol Invictus in her hands as she stood facing the cage with the boarbatusk inside.

Someone neighed at her. Sunset ignored them; greatness attracted envy, but the jealousy of lesser creatures was something that she had dealt with from her earliest youth.

“Go Sunset!” Ruby cheered. “Represent Team Sapphire!”

“I plan to,” Sunset murmured. And in so doing, represent myself.

Professor Port smashed the lock with a single swing of his axe, and from out of the darkness of the cage burst the expected boarbatusk.

It charged at her, snarling and snorting.

No time to shoot. Sunset dropped to one knee, resting the stock of Sol Invictus on the ground, keeping the bayonet pointed at the swiftly onrushing boarbatusk.

The grimm was almost upon her, all four of its eyes gleaming as it leapt.

Sunset flicked the switch that extended the bayonet outwards like a spear, the blade shooting out on the end of eight feet of steel pole. The boarbatusk was struck in mid-leap, and though the blow didn’t break through the armoured mask that covered its face, it did knock it back, squealing as its trotters kicked at the air.

Sunset grabbed it, enveloping it with a soft green glow and holding it in place with telekinesis, keeping the soft underbelly of the beast presented as she drove her spear into its guts.

“Bravo! It appears we are indeed in the presence of a true huntress in training.”

Of course you are, Sunset thought. Was there ever any doubt?

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today,” Professor Port added. “Be sure to cover the assigned readings and stay vigilant!”

Sunset walked quickly over to the front row where the rest of her team was sitting. “I need to go and change back into my uniform, drop my weapon off,” she said, as the rest of the class already began to file out. “Can you find your way to the next class without me?”

“Uh-“ Jaune began.

“I’ll make sure they get there,” Pyrrha said calmly.

“Right,” Sunset said. She should probably have thanked the other girl, but she didn’t quite have it in her to do so. She turned away and walked briskly out of the classroom and back towards the amphitheatre to get changed back into her uniform.

You know, in some ways, it would be easier if we didn’t have to bother with uniforms.

Nevertheless, she managed, by dint of a great deal of running, to get back to the amphitheatre, change back into her uniform, and make it to the Modern History lecture just a couple of minutes late.

She burst in. “Professor, I-“

“Ah, Miss Sunset Shimmer, yes?” she was interrupted and addressed by a tall, thin man with bushy green hair brushed behind him, his eyes concealed beneath a pair of opaque glasses.

Sunset straightened up. “Yes, Professor.”

“Never fear, Miss Shimmer, I’m well aware that Professor Port likes to engage his students in practical exercises on the first day of class, and Miss Nikos informed me of it as well. Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

The green-haired professor sipped something out of a cup in his hand. “Now, take your seat. We’ve been waiting for you, so you haven’t missed anything.”

Sunset nodded. “Thank you, Professor.” She made her way to the second row, where Ruby was waving to her.

“Oh, and Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset half turned back to the teacher. “Yes, Professor.”

“It’s Doctor Oobleck,” he informed her.

“My apologies, Doctor,” Sunset said, with a bow of her head.

“Just something to bear in mind for the future, Miss Shimmer,” Doctor Oobleck said. As Sunset sat down, she could see that his classroom was a bit of a mess, with books and papers scattered all over the place, some of them opened, while cups nestled in between them. She didn’t really want to know if there was anything in the cups or not. The board was covered by a map of Remnant and its kingdoms, with various infocards pinned to significant locations on said map, all joined together with lines of red string. Sunset was at a loss as to what it was all supposed to mean.

Doctor Oobleck took another sip from out of his cup. “Now then,” he declared, moving swiftly from one side of the lecture hall to another. “As you are all, I hope, aware, this world is currently living through an unparalleled era of peace and prosperity. To what do we owe this miracle, which to the peoples of an earlier age might have appeared an impossible dream?”

Sunset did not raise her hand. She was not sufficiently sure of the answer and didn’t want to make a fool of herself. None of her teammates made any move to raise their hands either. Three students, however, did raise their hands: Flash, Weiss Schnee, and Lyra Heartstrings.

Sunset noted that they were all Atlesians. Oh, I know what’s coming next, don’t I?

It was all she could do not to put her head in her hands.

“Yes!” Doctor Oobleck said, gesturing with his stick at Weiss. “Miss Schnee?”

“To the strength of Atlas, Doctor,” Weiss said primly. “Which protects and defends all other kingdoms and guards them from harm.”

Doctor Oobleck did not respond to her immediately. He drank some more out of his cup, slurping loudly. “Are you by any chance acquainted socially with General Ironwood, Miss Schnee?”

Weiss looked a little surprised by the question. “He…has been a guest of my father upon occasion, yes, Doctor,” she admitted, “and my elder sister is a specialist in the Atlesian military.”

Good for her. Then why didn’t you follow her to Atlas where you could chill out with Rainbow Dash and the other patriots instead of inflicting that nonsense on us?

“Mister Sentry, Miss Heartstrings, did you have anything else to add to Miss Schnee?” Doctor Oobleck asked.

“No, Doctor,” Flash said. “Everyone knows that Atlas has its arms around the other kingdoms with its power.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Sunset muttered.

Doctor Oobleck didn’t hear her, or else he pretended not to. Rather, he replied to his Atlesian students. “An answer that would satisfy many an Atlesian officer, I’m sure, but as you will learn in this class, historical truth is rarely reducible to propaganda points.” He turned away. “Now, we shall begin with-“

Pyrrha cleared her throat and raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Nikos?”

“Are you not intending to answer your own question, Doctor?”

Doctor Oobleck smiled. “The answer, Miss Nikos, is the subject of this class. This year, we shall cover a complete overview of the eighty years of history from the end of the Great War until the present time; future years will deepen your understanding of key moments in that history. By the time you graduate from these halls, you will have as good an understanding of how our world has reached its present state and condition as anyone in Remnant and more than most, for surely, no one can be so apathetic as not to want to know by what means and under what system our world became as we now find it.”

Sunset looked at her teammates, two of whom looked distinctly bored. Surely no one.

“Of course, my apologies, Doctor,” Pyrrha said.

“No need to apologise for paying attention, Miss Nikos,” Doctor Oobleck assured her. “Now, as I was saying: the situation at the end of the Great War. The Great War ended in what year?”

The hands of Sunset, Pyrrha, Weiss and Sky Lark rose into the air.

Doctor Oobleck considered. “Mister Lark.”

“2040,” Sky said.

“Correct, Mister Lark,” Doctor Oobleck said. “And if you were paying attention in Combat School, then none of you should have any difficulty telling me the decisive battle of the war.”

Despite the fact that Doctor Oobleck had just said that this was something he would expect any of his students to be able to answer, nevertheless, the only hands that went up in the air belonged to Pyrrha, Weiss, and Sunset.

“Miss Nikos?” Doctor Oobleck pointed to her.

“The Battle of Four Sovereigns,” Pyrrha declared. “After which the monarchs of Mantle, Mistral, and Vacuo all laid down their crowns and prostrated themselves in submission to the King of Vale.”

How many of your ancestors were there, I wonder? Sunset thought.

“Correct, Miss Nikos, and who can tell me what happened next, Miss Schnee?”

“The signing of the Vytal Treaty,” Weiss said primly.

“First, the King of Vale accepted the surrender of his fellow monarchs but refused to take their crowns for himself,” Sunset argued. In other words, he was a bit of a fool.

“Both of you are correct,” Doctor Oobleck said, which Sunset felt was being rather generous to Weiss Schnee. Probably because of her name.

Sunset considered herself to be gifted in the academic subjects; she considered herself to be so because she was. She had been top or near the top of her classes in the Canterlots of both worlds, and she had done the prep work so that she would not fall behind here at Beacon.

And by the end of the class, she felt pretty confident that she would not fall behind. History seemed to arouse little passion in the majority of the class, who could barely be prodded to respond to Doctor Oobleck’s questions, or perhaps it was just that they were nervous about raising their hand or feared to look too keen in front of the rest of the class. Sunset had known both types of ponies in one Canterlot and both types of humans in the other: the ones who didn’t like the attention and the ones who feared to be thought as uncool or eggheads. Both, in Sunset’s opinion, were more contemptible than those who simply didn’t know or didn’t want to do the work. If you didn’t have the courage to stand up in front of other students, how would you have the courage to face the grimm?

In any event, Doctor Oobleck’s lecture, which he had announced would cover the situation at the end of the Great War, kept doubling back into the war itself to cover from a different angle some of the material from the last days of Combat School.

As to being top of the class…suffice it to say that by the end of the class, Sunset knew who her academic rivals were.

After history, it was combat class, and the freshman students trooped down to the amphitheatre, where Professor Goodwitch was waiting for them in the locker rooms.

Getting changed – again – into her combat outfit in front of all the boys was a reminder to Sunset of what a strange place this school was compared to the norm amongst humans. She couldn’t help but wonder if the refusal of any of the SAPR girls to get dressed in front of Jaune, or conversely to have him undress in front of them, was an anomaly here and not the norm? How did the other teams, all of which were mixed gender, do it?

Perhaps it depended on nothing more than the nature of the girls concerned. Yang seemed to be positively lapping up the male attention, and Sunset, having been raised in a mostly naked society, wasn’t too concerned about what other people saw. On the other hand, Pyrrha did seem rather uncomfortable about it all, and Ruby even more so. It looked as though she was trying to hide behind her locker door; unfortunately it only shielded her on one side.

Sunset’s heart was not made of stone. She had been betrayed, abused, taught the folly of caring too much for others, but that didn’t make her completely without sympathy for anyone other than herself. She might not like Ruby very much, but she didn’t deserve to have to put up with being ogled by the likes of that spiky-haired lowlife or Sunset’s jerk ex; he didn’t appear to be looking, but after the way he’d treated Sunset, she wouldn’t put anything past him.

Although she was only half-dressed in jeans and a bra, Sunset nevertheless crossed the locker room to where Ruby stood and leaned against the locker frame and door, looming over Ruby an unavoidable amount as she physically blocked her from the view of anyone else in the room.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked, looking up at her.

“Don’t worry,” Sunset said gruffly. “They can’t see you anymore.”

It seemed to take Ruby a moment to understand what she meant. “Thank you,” she squeaked.

“Whatever,” Sunset grunted.

Once everyone had changed into their combat gear, Professor Goodwitch gathered them all together to give them some instructions on the lockers themselves.

“You have each been assigned one rocket propelled locker to store your weapons and extra armour,” Professor Goodwitch explained. “Additionally, your locker can be summoned to your position via your scroll or sent to a custom location via a six digit code.”

Sunset raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Shimmer?”

“Why would we ever want to send our lockers away from where we are by entering a code into them personally?” Sunset asked.

“You may wish to send your teammate their equipment, Miss Shimmer, if they are unable to summon it themselves,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “For example, if they are engaged in combat and cannot-“

A series of panicked, spluttering cries interrupted Professor Goodwitch and drew Sunset’s attention to the very back of the cluster of students and to Jaune, who was being stuffed into his own locker by Cardin Winchester.

“No! Wait! Get me out of here!” Jaune yelled as Cardin entered a six-digit code into the holographic display. “Don’t do it!”

Cardin stepped back with a smug look on his face as Jaune’s locker started to take off. Trailing blue smoke, the locker ascended... about a foot up off the ground, where it stopped, enveloped in a glow of green energy.

Sunset scowled as he stretched out her magic to hold the locker in place. She could feel the locker straining against her; she didn’t need to see the blue smoke expanding across the floor to be able to feel the pressure on it to ascend upwards as commanded. It was taking a lot of power to hold it steady; telekinesis was one thing, but matching magic against kinetic energy was something else altogether. Sunset could already feel a headache coming on, a throbbing in her head from keeping Jaune in place against the full force of the rocket trying to carry him away.

“Pyrrha! Ruby!” the pain in her head sharpened her voice like her bayonet. “One of you get him out of there!”

Pyrrha was the first one to reach the locker, shoving Cardin roughly aside as she held up her spear, Milo. “Jaune, is your aura activated?”

“…yes?”

“Good. I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, as with a single strong thrust she jammed Milo into the locker door and used it like a crowbar to lever said door open. She and Ruby pulled Jaune out of the locker, or rather, he tumbled out into their waiting arms, at which point Sunset could stop holding it still and let the locker fly off to wherever Cardin had sent it.

Jaune’s spare gear fell out of it as it fell, but it would only be scattered across school grounds. Hopefully.

Sunset clutched at her head with one hand, while Jaune coughed from the blue smoke that had pooled on the floor as a result of the rocket.

“Would have been more fun to watch him fly,” Cardin muttered, before flinching away in the face of Pyrrha’s furious glare.

Sunset stalked forwards, the headache from how she’d just exerted herself making her feel even fouler than the act itself and lending greater pronouncement to her scowl. Celestia had lied to her, and a lot of what she’d tried to teach Sunset had been complete and utter nonsense, but she had taught Sunset a little about noblesse oblige: you had to protect your servants, or they wouldn’t serve you for very long.

And besides, she hated letting other people mess with her stuff.

Her hands clenched into fists. “If you-“

“That’s quite enough,” the voice of Professor Goodwitch was not loud, but it was firm enough to reduce all others to silence. “Mister Winchester, perhaps a detention will give you time to think about why your unprovoked attack on a fellow student was unbecoming of a huntsman in training.”

Cardin growled wordlessly.

“And for you too, Miss Schnee,” Professor Goodwitch added.

Weiss gasped. “Professor! I did-”

“Nothing,” Professor Goodwitch finished for her. “You did nothing to control your teammate, the behaviour of whom reflects upon you. I believe Professor Ozpin informed you of this fact yesterday.”

Weiss’ face contorted with outrage. “Professor, I…” she appeared to control herself with great effort. “I feel,” she continued, her voice much calmer and more prim, “that it is deeply unfair to punish me for not intervening in a situation in which you yourself failed to intervene.”

Professor Goodwitch stared at her. “That is a very bold assertion, Miss Schnee,” she said, in a voice that was hard and rather cold. And then it seemed to Sunset that she smirked a little. “However, boldness can sometimes be an effective strategy. Very well, Miss Schnee, you are excused from detention. This time. But don’t let this happen again.” She turned her gaze upon Team SAPR before she continued. “Team Sapphire, you would do very well to build upon the level of teamwork that you just displayed.”

Cardin looked even more incensed than he had seemed before. “Professor-“

“Yes, Mister Winchester?” Professor Goodwitch demanded, staring at him from over the top of her spectacles.

“…Nothing,” he muttered.

“The pony probably wants a sugar lump,” Russell said.

“Russell! Cardin! That’s enough out of both of you!” Weiss snapped, in a voice that cracked like a whip. Sunset had to concede that she was impressed at the way that Weiss managed the difficult feat of looking down at someone who was nearly twice her height. “Need I remind you that your actions reflect not only upon yourself, but also on this team? I have no intention of being dragged down by a pair of primates like you.” She glared at them both, as if daring them to speak. When they did not, she turned away and advanced primly across the locker room towards SAPR.

The cold blue eyes of the Schnee heiress swept over Ruby and Jaune and lingered for a moment on Pyrrha. She looked Sunset, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. Her jaw clenched for a moment before she held out her hand. “On behalf of my primeval teammates, I apologise,” she said, and if she had left it there, then it might have been alright, except that she felt the need to add, “however, I must say that if your teammate is so weak that he can be treated in such a way, then perhaps he should reconsider his place at Beacon.”

Jaune looked shame-faced, and it was Ruby who spoke for him, crying, “That’s not fair; Jaune was taken by surprise and-”

“And do you expect the grimm to announce their presence before attacking?” Weiss asked. “He should have been more vigilant.”

Cardin’s not a grimm, Sunset thought. Most grimm are better looking than he is.

“Vigilance is one thing, but that is not the kind of behaviour one should expect from comrades in arms,” Pyrrha declared.

“Of course not, but-”

“Look, if you want to apologise then apologise,” Sunset snapped, “but I’m not interested in hearing this, and I doubt anyone else is either.”

Weiss recoiled. “Who are you to-? Fine.” She folded her arms. “I feel sorry for you, Pyrrha, to be held back by a team like this. It’s such a shame.” She walked away before anyone from SAPR could respond.

“Don’t listen to her, Jaune,” Ruby said encouragingly.

“Anyone can be taken by surprise,” Pyrrha said.

Jaune didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue the point. He just stood there looking crestfallen, although whether it was due to his perceived weakness or because his crush had just burned him, Sunset could not have said.

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. “If you are all quite finished,” she said, with obvious impatience in her voice, “please follow me into the amphitheatre proper, where we will begin.”

The amphitheatre was a little more brightly lit than it had been when they had all received their dubious welcome from Professor Ozpin, so that Sunset could actually see her fellow students as they made their way inside. She could also see a balcony level set above them, so that people could look down upon the stage from above. Down below, a lot of flat, armless benches had been set up, each one large enough for four people to sit side by side, so the students could watch what was about to unfold.

The students didn’t wait to be told to sit down. They took seats by their teams as Professor Goodwitch mounted the stage.

“Welcome, students, to your sparring class,” she said. “In these sessions, you will be trained to combat other huntsmen; it is regrettable, but even in the present era of peace, you must be prepared for the possibility that you will be called upon to face a fellow huntsman fallen from the path of righteousness or an enemy trained in the use of their aura. In these classes, I will endeavour to arm you against just such a possibility, as well as preparing you for the Vytal Festival, which will be held at the end of this year. Any team fortunate enough to be selected to compete in the combat tournament will be representing the honour of Beacon Academy and the Kingdom of Vale, and I will not watch as this school or this kingdom is let down by subpar students.

“Before we begin the class proper, it has become something of a tradition for me to extend an offer to all of you new students, an invitation open to anyone who wished to take it up. If any of you can defeat me in a sparring match, then they will be excused from my combat class for the rest of their time here at Beacon. Does anyone feel up to the challenge?”

Nobody leapt out of their seats. Sunset would have dearly liked to have taken her up on the offer, more for the prestige than for the free periods, but her assessment of her own strengths was still sufficiently realistic to stay her hand.

She glanced at Pyrrha. Now if only we had a teammate who had never lost a fight in her life.

When Pyrrha showed no signs of movement, Sunset gave her a nudge.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Sunset?”

“Go on,” Sunset hissed, gesturing to the stage.

Pyrrha shook her head. “I would rather not.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s rather presumptive, don’t you think?”

“You’ve never lost!”

“Against my peers,” Pyrrha reminded her, gently but firmly.

“Miss Shimmer? Miss Nikos?” Professor Goodwitch said. “Do either of you plan to avail yourselves of this opportunity?”

“No, thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “I would never presume so much.”

The fact that even Pyrrha Nikos, the Pride of Mistral, thought that this was an impossible challenge seemed to cast a pall over the entire class. Nobody got up.

Until Bon Bon, of all people, rose to her feet. “I’ll give it a try, Professor,” she said. “I could use the extra time for my homework.” Her friend Lyra covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled at the weak gag.

Professor Goodwitch raised one eyebrow curiously. “Very well, Miss Bonaventure. Please, join me on stage.”

Bon Bon was armoured from head to toe in armour as white as an Atlesian uniform, giving it an almost adamantine look as she strode, her armour clanking just a little, up onto the stage. In one hand, she held a morningstar, Sirius, the chain bundled up in her hand.

She faced their teacher warily.

Sunset leaned forward. Bon Bon had never impressed her as one of the best students in Canterlot; did she really think that she was up to this?

Professor Goodwitch said, “You may begin when ready, Miss Bonaventure.”

Bon Bon took a clanking step forward, swinging Sirius around beside her in a series of wide arcs before casting it towards Professor Goodwitch, who sidestepped the flying ball of spikes as it flew past her head.

She grabbed the chain as easily as plucking a rose from a bush.

Professor Goodwitch heaved upon the chain, pulling it and Bon Bon too straight towards her. The professor ducked as the armoured girl flew over her head and off the other side of the stage.

“In an official match, leaving the arena is cause for disqualification,” Professor Goodwitch informed them calmly as Bon Bon hit the floor with a thump and a groan. “Therefore, Miss Bonaventure has just been defeated.” She looked at her. “Is there anything you would like to add, Miss Bonaventure?”

It had all taken a matter of seconds. The students were deathly silent as Bon Bon picked herself up off the floor. To Sunset’s surprise, she was grinning sheepishly. She scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. “Can’t blame me for trying, right, Professor?” she said, which caused a wave of mild laughter to spread across the amphitheatre as all the tension that had gathered there was dissipated instantly. Even Professor Goodwitch herself seemed mildly amused.

“Ambition is always laudable, but in real combat, one should temper it with a degree of caution. Now, we shall start off very simply with a series of one-on-one matches. I will observe, gauge your strengths and weaknesses, and offer any advice where necessary.” She consulted her scroll, tapping it silently. The students waited, expectantly.

“Will Mister Jaune Arc and Miss Lyra Heartstrings please come up onto the stage?” Professor Goodwitch asked, in a voice that made it seem like much less of a request.

“Good luck, Jaune,” Ruby said.

“Just do your best,” Pyrrha urged.

Sunset didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you going to wish him luck?” Pyrrha asked as Jaune made his way hesitantly up onto the stage.

“He doesn’t need luck,” Sunset replied. “He’s up against Lyra Heartstrings.”

“You know her?” Pyrrha said.

“She was at Canterlot with me,” Sunset explained. “Trust me; he’s got nothing to worry about.”

The two combatants looked equally matched in nerves as they climbed up onto the stage. Lyra Heartstrings had eyes of gold and hair of blue-green streaked with white. She was swathed in a cloak of blue, pink, and burgundy, from beneath which only a pair of dark burgundy boots protruded.

Until she drew her sword, a simple sword of a falcata type, and held it before her in a low guard.

Jaune drew his sword and unfolded his shield. He raised his blade high and held his shield before him.

“Shield up,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset frowned. “He needs it to protect his belly, doesn’t he?” Certainly, his armour wasn’t going to protect him; it only covered his chest, a lot like Sunset’s own breastplate.

The shake of Pyrrha’s head was almost imperceptible. “The shield is a weapon, not something to hide behind.”

Professor Goodwitch stepped off the stage as the lights went down everywhere but on the stage itself. “Begin!” she commanded.

It soon became apparent that Sunset had either underestimated Lyra all this time or else she had overestimated Jaune quite a bit.

She was inclined to think it was the latter. His swings were clumsy, amateurish, the techniques of someone who had seen sword-fighting on stage or in movies and mistaken it for the real thing. He charged at Lyra, roaring with aggression, or at least with the appearance of aggression, and such telegraphed movements that Lyra was able to dodge his every attack, her cloak of many colours swirling around her. Lyra hadn’t been the strongest student in Canterlot by any means, nor had she been the fastest, but she had the basics of her technique down, and that was enough to let her evade Jaune’s ill-thought out assaults and subject him to death by a thousand cuts. Her sword struck out again and again to rip away at Jaune’s aura until the bar on the stage that displayed its level had dipped into the red and Professor Goodwitch called the match.

“In a tournament style duel,” she explained. “Mister Arc’s aura dropping into the red indicates that he is no longer able to continue, and Miss Heartstrings stands victorious.” Lyra’s aura had not been diminished at all. “Mister Arc,” Professor Goodwitch continued, as Jaune slumped on stage. “I advise you to work on your technique.” She didn’t specify which part of his technique, probably because it was all of it.

Jaune made his way back to the rest of the team with heavy, dejected steps, his feet dragging as if they had been weighted down.

“That was…unfortunate,” Pyrrha said.

“You got unlucky,” Ruby told him.

Sunset folded her arms and didn’t join in the comforting nonsense. Couldn’t even beat Lyra Heartstrings. What am I going to do with you?

The class continued in that vein, with Professor Goodwitch calling up students onto the stage and having them fight until the aura of one or other of them went into the red.

When it was Ruby’s turn to be called up, to face Nora Valkyrie, it was Sunset’s first time seeing her in action, her battle outside the dust shop having taken place while Sunset was preoccupied.

She had to say, by the time Ruby was done, Sunset could see why Professor Ozpin had let her into Beacon two years early. Nora just couldn’t keep up with her speed, and the match ended with Nora being flung up into the air amidst a burst of rose petals swirling around her like drops of blood before Ruby rematerialised above her opponent to fire a shot from her monstrous gun straight into Nora’s gun that hurled her back down to the ground hard enough to break the stage.

“Woah!” Jaune cried. “Go, Ruby!”

“Congratulations, Miss Rose,” Professor Goodwitch said, as she repaired the stage with a swish of her riding crop. “You used your semblance very well. Miss Valkyrie, in this particular situation, your best approach might have been to attempt to disrupt the terrain.”

“You mean I could have smashed up the stage?” Nora asked eagerly. “Wow, I’ll remember that one, Professor.”

“I’m sure you will,” Professor Goodwitch replied dryly.

The fights continued. Weiss Schnee defeated Sky Lark of Team BLBL, while Blake Belladonna of BLBL defeated Lie Ren; Yang Xiao Long cleaned up against Cardin Winchester; Flash defeated Bon Bon without too much difficulty. Pyrrha took down Russell Thrush so quickly it was over practically before Professor Goodwitch had finished saying "begin".

And then…

“Miss Shimmer, Mister Bronzewing, please come up on stage,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Good luck, Sunset,” Ruby said.

The skilled don’t need luck, Sunset thought, as she picked up her gun and made her way briskly up onto the stage.

She gripped Sol Invictus tightly in her hands, feeling the varnished wood against her palms as she stared at her opponent. Dove Bronzewing held a short sword in one hand, a gunblade by the look of it; Sunset didn’t think it could hold many rounds, though, with the hilt being as short as it was. His free hand was empty.

Sunset’s tail swished back and forth. Dove’s eyes, as far as it was possible to tell with that squint of his, seemed to be drawn to it.

Sunset’s ears flattened in anger. Couldn’t he just get over it already? Even if he had never seen a faunus before, it wasn't like she had two heads.

He must have noticed the scowl of her face, because Dove tensed up visibly.

“Begin!” Professor Goodwitch commanded.

Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, snapping off two shots in quick succession. Dove blocked them with his sword in swift slashing motions through the air, then levelled his blade point first toward Sunset to fire a trio of rounds off at her in turn. Sunset’s hand glowed green as a shield of energy appeared in front of her, a shield against which Dove’s bullets thudded as if into sandbags. They dropped to the floor, hitting the stage with three clinking sounds.

Dove charged. Sunset dropped her shield and let him come. She fired a third shot, and again, Dove parried the bullet aside as he dashed forward. Sunset stepped forward to meet him, slower than he was running towards her. Dove slashed at her with his sword. Sunset caught the blow on the wooden stock of Sol Invictus and turned it aside, reversing her weapon to crack Dove on the side of the head with the butt of the rifle. Dove staggered sideways. Sunset followed him, driving the butt directly into his forehead to push him back. She reversed her weapon again, taking aim to shoot him. Dove grabbed the rifle barrel as he twisted aside. Sunset let out a squawk as she was pulled forwards and off balance. Dove slashed at her, his blade slicing across her side and taking a piece of her aura with it. He threw her to the ground, but Sunset kept a grip on her weapon as she rolled across the stage. She fired her three remaining bullets at him, and he was out of position to parry them, two of them struck him, and he only managed to bat the last one away. His aura was in the yellow now, while Sunset’s was still in the green.

Dove levelled his gunblade.

Sunset flung her rifle at him, guiding it by telekinesis like a spear to slam into his gut hard enough to knock him over and onto his back.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Miss Shimmer, while discarding your weapon allowed you to claim victory, in a more chaotic battle, I wouldn’t recommend disarming yourself as a tactic. Mister Bronzewing, I suggest you consider how to handle an opponent with longer reach in future; however, there was a moment when you had the advantage, if you had capitalised on it by pressing home with greater alacrity, victory may have been yours.”

Dove grunted as he got to his feet. “Yes, Professor.”

“I don’t want any of the victors of these matches to be too complacent or any of those defeated to become despondent,” Professor Goodwitch said, her voice carrying across the amphitheatre. “This is only your first day of school, after all. Those who rest upon their laurels may find themselves being overtaken by those are prepared to work hard and practice. Equally, those who are willing to persist and learn from their mistakes may easily surpass those who grow overconfident in their current level of skill. That’s all, class is dismissed.”

Sunset leapt down off the stage, to be met by her team as they rose from their seats.

“You did very well, Sunset,” Pyrrha said.

Coming from someone who had wrapped up her fight in mere seconds without taking so much as a single hit, Sunset couldn’t help but find that just a little condescending. And she didn’t need condescension from Pyrrha Nikos, even if she had a list of accomplishments as long as Sunset’s arm.

It was all that she could do not to let Pyrrha know it too, but instead, Sunset merely huffed and said nothing as the rest of her team got up and headed back to the locker rooms.

Ruby hesitated. “Uh...Sunset…”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Sunset replied, quietly so that they couldn’t be overhead too widely. “I just need to have a word with Professor Goodwitch.”

For that reason, Sunset lingered as the rest of the class filed out, waiting in the amphitheatre until all the rest were gone.

Professor Goodwitch looked down on her from the stage. “Is something wrong, Miss Shimmer?”

“Not exactly, Professor,” Sunset said. She hesitated, wondering how the best way to approach this was.

“Please bear in mind that this is also my lunch break, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said impatiently.

Direct, then. Okay. “Professor, I don’t know why this school has a unisex changing room, and for all I know there might be a good reason for it-”

“The reason, Miss Shimmer, is to accustom you all to the rigors of the field, where you may - almost certainly will - have to work alongside huntsmen of the opposite sex without the luxury of segregated facilities. I understand that it may be a shock to you, but if you are unable to bear even this-”

“This isn’t about me, Professor; I can put up with it,” Sunset said. “But Ruby’s just a kid, and I...I’m not sure that it’s right that she should have put up with being...ogled by guys a few years older than she is.”

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed. “If there has been any harassment, Miss Shimmer, you can rest assured that if you give me the perpetrator’s name, it will be dealt with swiftly. Such behaviour is not tolerated here at Beacon.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it harassment,” Sunset admitted. “It’s just...she doesn’t like it, and her age, I’m not sure that’s her fault.”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. “Perhaps allowance ought to be made for Miss Rose’s youth,” she said. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Shimmer. I will consider what is to be done.”

Sunset nodded her head. “Thank you, Professor.” She turned to head into the locker room.

“Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch called.

Sunset stopped and turned back towards the stage.

“You’re off to a good start,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Keep it up.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: Ironically, considering that part of the aim of this rewrite is to make these early parts of the story a little less Sunset-centric, the breakfast scene has been rewritten to be from Sunset's POV. However we do have extra scenes for Jaune and Pyrrha to make up for it.

Professor Port's story changes from being about a beowolf, as it was in canon, to being about the boarbatusk that he unleashes on the class; this is to make him seem more competent.

One of the other aims of this rewrite is to show more of a friendship between Sunset and Ruby, and we start off with that here as Sunset demonstrates that her compassion has not completely atrophied from lack of use.

The First Step, Part Two (New)

The First Step, Part Two

After combat class came lunch, with a variety of options ranging in health as great as the choices had been at breakfast. Pyrrha clearly found the meat options, between chicken nuggets or hamburger, too heavily processed for her palate, and chose a salad; Sunset did likewise on more principled grounds, but she probably lost all of the benefits of a healthy lunch by having the dessert, an apple pie slathered in a thick layer of custard, school custard what was more, which meant that it was fluorescent yellow and at least twice as thick and gloopy as it ought to have been. Jaune went for the chicken nuggets and fries, while Ruby decided to have cookies for lunch and apparently nothing else.

It was a really good thing that she was fast.

Just like breakfast, Team SAPR shared a table with Team YRDN. Or at least, that seemed to be the plan as the two teams sat down together at one of the empty tables in the cafeteria, Team SAPR ranged upon the right and Team YRDN arrayed upon the left. Then they were joined by someone else.

“Hey, guys, is this seat taken?” Bon Bon asked as she sat down on the left of Yang, who sat at the end of Team YRDN’s line.

Yang looked a little surprised, but not put out. She said, “No, help yourself.”

“Great,” Bon Bon said, ignoring the fact that she had already sat down before being allowed to do so. She was swiftly joined on her own left by Lyra Heartstrings. No sooner had Lyra sat than she helped herself to one of the chips on Bon Bon’s plate.

“I mean,” Bon Bon went on, “just because we’re on different teams doesn’t mean that we’re not on the same big team, right?”

Pyrrha nodded. “We are all comrades, united in the light against the darkness.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Jaune said. He got to his feet as though he’d been stung by a wasp. “Hey, Sunset! Switch places with me.”

“What? Why?” Sunset demanded.

Lyra snatched another chip off Bon Bon’s plate.

“Hey, Weiss,” Jaune called, as Team WWSR walked down the aisle between the two tables. He gestured to the empty spaces on Sunset’s right, and now, she understood why Jaune wanted to switch places. “First year table?”

“No!” Sunset snapped, her voice cracking like a whip.

Ruby looked up at her. “Sunset?”

“I am not having him sit with us,” Sunset snarled, pointing at Flash Sentry, who stood frozen in place, feigning discomfort.

“Sunset,” he said, “I know that our teams have gotten off on the wrong foot, but maybe if we-”

“This isn’t about our teams!” Sunset yelled. “This is about me knowing what you really are, and wanting nothing to do with it.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Then Weiss spoke, her voice clipped. “Thank you for the offer,” she said, the words sounding as though they were being dragged out of her with forceps, "but I believe we can find our own table and don’t need to trouble you. Come on.” She walked away briskly, her wedge heels clicking on the floor. Cardin sneered at Jaune as he walked past, but did nothing more than that. Flash looked apologetic, but said nothing more.

Sunset watched Flash his teammates, keeping her eye on him as he sat down opposite Weiss.

Lyra popped another of Bon Bon’s chips into her mouth.

“That was kinda harsh, don’t you think?” Jaune demanded.

Sunset ignored that as she sat down.

“What did you mean?” Yang asked. “About knowing who that guy really was?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sunset growled.

“Okay, fine, I won’t ask,” Yang replied, holding up her hands in a pacific gesture, “but he seemed to be talking sense to me. No need to make enemies on the first day of school.”

I’ll make as many enemies as I like, so long as I can be stronger than them when it matters, then I’ll be fine. And if you think Flash is so great, then maybe you should try dating him. Actually no, don’t, nobody is allowed to go near Flash Sentry.

If you think he’s any good then you’re a fool, but I still don’t want you involved with him.

Stay away from my boyfriend, blondie.

“Are we all sitting together now?” Blake Belladonna asked, in a tone that concealed whatever thoughts she might have upon the subject.

“Apparently,” Sunset grunted.

“Apart from Team Relationship Drama over there,” Yang added, jabbing a thumb in the direction of Team WWSR.

“At the risk of sounding uncharitable, I think that we may be best off without the presence of some of those people,” Pyrrha said, her tone laced with disapproval.

Blake and Sky sat down beside Sunset, opposite the other half of their team.

Lyra stole another fry from Bon Bon.

“Will you stop that?” Bon Bon snapped. “If you wanted fries, then why didn’t you get the fries?”

“Because I’m not supposed to have fries, you know that,” Lyra reasoned.

“Then why…” Bon Bon stopped. “Here, just have all the fries, okay?” She dumped all of her remaining chips on Lyra’s plate.

“Aww, thanks Bon Bon,” Lyra said warmly. “You’re a good friend.” She patted Bon Bon on the shoulder and proceeded to dig in.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “Anyone who wants to complain about their partner: this is what I have to put up with.”

Yang laughed. “So, you two know each other?”

“Yep,” Lyra said, in between eating fries. “We went to Canterlot Combat School together.”

“Along with Sunset, here,” Bon Bon added. “Surprised to end up at the same place like this, huh?”

“I suppose,” Sunset said.

“Oh, you three are all old friends?” Yang asked.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunset replied.

“It’s a pity that we couldn’t end up on the same team together,” Bon Bon declared. “Wondercolts Forever, right?”

Sunset raised her head up from her salad. “I’m pretty satisfied with the team that I have now,” she said. I mean, I might trade Jaune for one of you, but Ruby or Pyrrha? As much as I don’t like the risk of being overshadowed, I wouldn’t intentionally get rid of them for people much less competent.

Bon Bon grinned. “I’ll bet you are. Everyone wanted Pyrrha Nikos on their team, after all.”

“Every team here has its own strengths,” Pyrrha said.

“And its own weaknesses,” Bon Bon replied.

“What happened between you two?” Weiss asked, as she sat down upon an empty table. Her team followed her lead, sitting down around her.

Flash, who had sat down opposite her, realised the question was directed at him. “You mean with Sunset?”

Weiss glanced across the dining hall. She did not miss the way that Sunset Shimmer’s eyes kept flickering towards them. “Exactly,” she said. “With Sunset. It’s no great observation to say that she doesn’t care much for you.”

Flash sighed. “No,” he admitted. “No, she does not.”

Weiss waited for him to elaborate. When he did not, she prodded him, “Is there any particular reason why?”

“She’s a faunus,” Cardin declared. “They’re naturally bad tempered. Especially the women.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Is that really what you think, Cardin, or do you think that playing the boorish imbecile is a good way to go through school?”

Cardin looked at her, outrage in his blue eyes. “You’re defending those animals?”

“Not all of them, to be sure,” Weiss replied calmly. “The White Fang are quite despicable, and many of them do turn to crime of some description. But equally, many faunus work hard in the factories and mines as valued members of the SDC family.” Well, they were as valued as the human employees, at least, even if that wasn’t a particularly high bar to clear.

She thought for a moment about Laberna Seacole, the old racoon faunus who had raised her mother and her sister and Weiss herself… until she was thirteen years old and all the faunus staff had disappeared from the Schnee Manor. She had not been an angry woman, far from it; she had been a font of patience amidst her father’s temper and her mother’s… melancholy.

She pushed that thought aside. Nostalgia would not serve her at present. “In any case,” she added, “dismissing this as a case of an angry faunus doesn’t help address the issue at hand. Why is Sunset so upset with you?”

Flash frowned. He pushed around some fries on his plate with his fork. “We… used to be an item, at Combat School.”

“You dated a faunus?” Cardin asked, incredulously.

Flash nodded. “For a while.”

Weiss frowned. “She seems a little… lower class, for you.”

“For him?” Russell asked in suprise. “Are you some kind of big shot or something?”

“Flash’s mother is the Law Officer of the Atlesian Council, essentially the council’s lawyer,” Weiss informed their two Valish teammates. “That’s correct, isn’t it? You are Silver Sentry’s son?”

“That’s right,” Flash said, in a soft, slightly hoarse voice.

“And yet, you dated… someone like that,” Weiss said, phrasing it as delicately as she could.

“Mom wasn’t happy about it,” Flash admitted.

“Was that the whole point?” asked Russell.

“No,” Flash protested. “The point was… it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it ended, and she… is sore about it.”

“That seems like a little bit of an understatement,” Weiss said. “I take it you are the one that ended things.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because… of what she was,” Flash murmured, bowing his head.

“You made the right call,” Cardin said. “Dating a faunus like that… it’s not worth it.”

Weiss pursed her lips. Put like that, it sounded reasonable enough; Flash had broken up with his girlfriend, and she had found it hard to move on. But if he had dumped her because she was a faunus, why had he started dating her in the first place? Had he done it simply to toy with her affections for a while? Or had he thought that something, some affection, could bridge the divide between their races?

I had hoped that you might be one of the good ones.

I still hope that. I’m just not quite as sure as I was before.

“So,” Yang said. “What do we all think of school so far?”

Sunset looked down the line of her team. “You three need to pay more attention in Grimm Studies.”

“You were paying attention in Grimm Studies?” Lyra asked.

“Of course she did,” Bon Bon said, with a smile on her face. “She’s a teacher’s pet, aren’t you, Sunset?”

Sunset snorted. “Don’t blame me just because I work harder than you.”

“What’s there to pay attention to in Grimm Studies?” Yang asked. “Professor Port spent most of an hour telling a story about himself.”

“I must confess, it was not the most edifying start to the day,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I enjoy a good story as much as anyone, but that was not a good story,” Lyra agreed.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Have none of you people ever been taught in the form of a story before? It’s one of the oldest teaching techniques in existence.”

“True,” Pyrrha allowed. “But parables are usually succinct.”

“I never said that he was a great teacher,” Sunset replied. “I’m just saying: he told a story about a boarbatusk that contained all the information needed to defeat the boarbatusk that he unleashed after he was done.”

“I suppose if every class ends with us getting to fight a grimm, then it won’t be a total loss, right, Ruby?” Yang said.

“That would be fun, at least,” Ruby agreed.

“That wasn’t actually…” Sunset trailed off. “You people are just here for the fighting classes, aren’t you?”

“Well it is a combat academy,” Ruby reminded her. “We aren’t going to defend the world against the grimm by knowing a lot of history.”

“You won’t understand the world if you don’t understand history,” Sunset countered. “That’s what Doctor Oobleck was trying to get across.”

“I understand the world just fine,” Yang declared. “I’ve lived in it for seventeen years, after all.” She stretched out her arms. “But how about that combat class, huh?”

“You were amazing, Yang,” Ruby declared.

Yang chuckled. “Hey, I’ve got nothing on either you or Pyrrha, at least on the basis of today’s showing.” She glanced at Pyrrha. “As expected of our tournament champion, right?”

Pyrrha looked as though she was about to sigh, but instead she said, “Without intending any disrespect to Russell Thrush… I have fought more skilled opponents.”

Sunset snorted. “Without intending any disrespect… but that guy sucked.”

“That’s not…” Pyrrha trailed off. She hesitated, and then brightened a little. “On the basis of today, at least, Ruby is the true huntress amongst us.”

“Yeah, I’m way tougher than that Thrush guy!” Nora proclaimed. “And you still ripped me apart anyway.”

“I… you were just unlucky,” Ruby said.

“Hey, take the compliment, I’ve got no hard feelings about it,” Nora cried. She wagged her finger in Ruby’s face, “but if you ever slow down enough for me to catch you, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re the boss’s sister.”

“But you’re not going to go too hard on her either, right?” Yang demanded, leaning forward and forcing Nora to lean back to stay away.

“Yang!” Ruby protested.

“I’m kidding,” Yang said, “and Nora knows I’m kidding.” Her eyes turned red for a moment. “Or am I?” she asked, before taking a bite out of her apple with a smug look on her face.

“You all performed well,” Ren said.

Jaune snorted. He was sitting at the end of the table with his head bowed, picking ineffectually at his chicken nuggets.

“Jaune…” Ruby murmured, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

The members of Team YRDN looked at one another awkwardly. “Hey, Sunset,” Yang said.

Sunset looked up from her salad. “Hmm?”

“Thanks,” Yang said. “For the locker room.”

Sunset… wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond to that, in all honesty. So she just said, “Right.” And then got back to her salad.

“It’s only the first day,” Blake observed. “As Professor Goodwitch said, there is a lot of time for things to change.”

“So long as we all work hard and do our best, then we’ll all make it,” Ruby cried. “All the way.”

Sunset said nothing. That was… not an attitude that she had held to during her time under Princess Celestia’s tutelage, to put it mildly. In fact, she had been rather contemptuous of those beneath her.

“What are you studying for? Nothing, that’s what.”

But such sentiments probably wouldn’t go down very well here. Plus… she kind of needed Jaune to succeed, or at least to get a little better so that he didn’t act as a drag on the rest of the team.

So, as strange as it sounded, Sunset found herself in the position of hoping that Ruby – and Professor Goodwitch – were correct.

Even if all her life experiences and habits of thought to date dictated otherwise.

Jaune actually managed to come close to making Sunset reevaluate her opinion of him over the course of the afternoon’s classes, in which he almost made up for his poor showing in the morning. Straight after lunch, it was Plant Science, which took place not in the greenhouses but in a classroom, as Professor Peach genially explained that they would be starting off with some theory before she let them anywhere near any actual plants.

Sunset had never paid very much attention to botany; she had rather disdained it as earth pony work, beneath the dignity of a unicorn like herself, and no amount of lectures from Princess Celestia upon the equality of the three tribes or even on the relaxation that could be gained from growing things could move Sunset upon the subject. The closest she had ever gotten to interacting with plants was casting a growth spell on one to get through her last midterms before banishment. As a result, Sunset had very little to offer in Plant Science, and it seemed that Pyrrha was in much the same position. Instead, and surprising Sunset, it was Jaune who stood out in that class; once he got over his fear of actually sticking his hand up and answering, he had the answers to many of Professor Peach’s questions, and by the time their two-hour introduction to the class was up, there was no doubt about who Professor Peach’s new favourite student was.

“That was amazing, Jaune,” Ruby said. “How do you know so much about plants?”

“Your breadth of knowledge was very impressive,” Pyrrha added.

“It’s nothing, really,” Jaune said modestly. “It’s just that we grow a lot of those plants at home, either in our own land or by the neighbours, so I’ve seen a lot of what Professor Peach was talking about.”

“You had a large garden at home?” Pyrrha asked.

“Pretty big, yeah,” Jaune replied. “Although a lot of it is vegetables, so I don’t know how useful knowing about them is going to be in class.”

“That sounds very lovely, all the same,” Pyrrha declared. “We have a garden at home, but I wasn’t… I mean that I didn’t have the time to get involved in it. Because of my training.”

“Of course,” Jaune said.

“We’ve got a garden, but it’s all just flowers, and Professor Peach didn’t mention any of them,” Ruby said. “But it was still nice to help Dad tend to them sometimes; it’s relaxing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “It can really help take your mind off things."

He wasn’t able to carry his success from Plant Science into Stealth and Security, but then, nobody did particularly well in Stealth and Security; they spent half the class waiting for Professor Greene to arrive, only for her to reveal that she’d spent those thirty minutes infiltrated amongst the students, and none of them had noticed that there was an odd number of people in the classroom. Everybody left the class having to console themselves with the fact that it was only the first day of school and they had plenty of time to improve.

And then came Fieldcraft, a class designed to help them survive out in the field and not starve or freeze to death, and once again, Jaune showed a degree of skill and knowledge which, if it didn’t rise to the level of his burgeoning expertise in Plant Science, certainly demonstrated that it wasn’t a fluke either.

What was your dad actually training you in, during the time you were homeschooled? Sunset wondered.

Mister Arc didn’t appear to have been teaching his son how to fight - he hadn’t even told him what aura was - but Jaune knew his plants, and he seemed to have a fair idea how to survive in the wild. Had Jaune been trained as a medic? Had he trained to support huntsmen rather than to be one himself? But then what was he doing at Beacon?

Who are you really, Jaune Arc?

Jaune Arc stood on the rooftop, fighting with shadows.

He was wearing his armour, the weight seeming light upon his shoulders and chest; Crocea Mors was in his right hand, and his shield was upon his left arm. The moon shone down upon, the silver light of the broken orb illuminating the rooftop on which he fought with nothing.

He slashed at imaginary enemies, he thrust at imaginary foes, he sliced his way through armies of grimm that existed in his head. In his mind, he saw Lyra’s face, and the disappointment in the faces of his teammates when he’d gone down so easily; he heard Professor Goodwitch’s words echoing in his head.

He had to do better. He could do better. He would do better.

He grunted and panted with effort as he cut and thrust through the air, hacking and slashing, striking heavy blows that left him weary with exertion.

He heard the door leading up onto the roof open just a little and turned to look at it. He heard a squeak of alarm and saw a flash of silver in the shadows before it disappeared.

“Ruby?” Jaune asked.

There was a moment’s pause before Ruby emerged. She was dressed in her uniform, and there was an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just… nobody knew where you were and… well, you forgot your scroll.” She held up the device.

Jaune sighed. “Thanks, Ruby,” he said, sheathing his sword in his shield. He approached her, holding out his hand to take the device. “I would have had to bang on the door to be let in otherwise, and I’m not sure Sunset would have appreciated that.”

Ruby giggled. “Maybe not, although… does that mean you’re planning to be out here for a while?”

Jaune nodded. “Probably.”

“It’s getting late,” Ruby reminded him.

“Yeah?” Jaune replied. “Then what are you still doing up?”

Ruby puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. “I’m fifteen years old, not five,” she protested. She fell silent for a moment. “So… you’re training up here?”

“Yeah,” Jaune confirmed. “I think I need it, don’t you?”

“You can’t beat yourself up about the first day of school,” Ruby protested. “it’s just one day.”

“One day when I was the worst in the class.”

“Not at everything,” Ruby protested.

“At the things that matter,” Jaune replied. “You said it yourself; we’re not going to beat the grimm with our knowledge of history, or Plant Science for that matter.”

“That’s not what I-“

“If I want to be a huntsman,” Jaune declared, “and I do want to be a huntsman, then I need to get better at what really matters.”

Ruby nodded, after a moment. “You’re right,” she agreed, “but you can get better, Jaune, I’ve seen it happen. I was a mess until my Uncle Qrow started tutoring me, and now… well, I’m not so bad, right?”

Jaune chuckled. “Right, you’re not so bad at all.”

Ruby’s face assumed a pensive expression. “You know, I don’t know very much about sword and shield fighting, but I bet that if you were to ask Pyrrha, then-”

“No,” Jaune cut her off before she could finish. “I’m not going to ask Pyrrha for help.”

Ruby frowned, now she looked confused.

“Why not?”

“Because this is my dream, what I’ve always wanted,” Jaune said, “and if I can’t do it then…” Jaune shook his head; he couldn’t let himself think like that. “I can do this by myself.”

If he accepted help with this, if he accepted that he needed help with this, then all that he was doing was proving his father and his sisters right when they said that he wasn’t cut out for this: not tough enough, not strong enough. He would prove them wrong. He was going to prove them all wrong.

Ruby’s face became concerned, but at least she didn’t protest any further. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft and quiet. “I… I guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Jaune said. “And for the scroll, too.”

Ruby nodded. “You know we’re all here for you, right? For anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”

“I know,” Jaune replied. That’s one of the reasons why I can’t ask.

Ruby turned away and walked back towards the door. In the doorway itself, she paused and looked back at him. “Hey, Jaune?”

Jaune looked at her. “Ruby?”

“Good luck,” she said. “We’re all rooting for you.”

Pyrrha walked into the dorm room. “I got your text, Ruby; you said that you found Jaune?”

“Yep,” Ruby said. “And I gave him his scroll, too, so he can get back in.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pyrrha said, “but he didn’t come back with you?”

“Obviously not,” Sunset said, as she kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed. She opened up her own scroll.

“No, I mean, of course he isn’t here, but…” Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. “Where is he, Ruby?”

Ruby hesitated. “I… I’m not sure that he’d want me to tell you.”

Sunset blinked. “Why not?” she demanded, looking up from her scroll and at the youngest member of their team.

“Because… I think Jaune just wants to be alone right now.”

“Alone where?” Sunset asked.

“Sunset, that’s enough,” Pyrrha said mildly. “If Jaune wants to be left alone, then we should respect his wishes. He’s not in any trouble, is he, Ruby?”

“Oh, no,” Ruby assured them both. “He’s fine; he’s just… he doesn’t want to see anybody else. He’s just… a little embarrassed about what happened today, in combat class.”

Pyrrha sighed. “He has nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all. Anyone can be defeated by a sufficiently skilled opponent.”

“Says the girl who has never lost a fight,” Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha looked at her. “That doesn’t mean that I can’t lose, and it doesn’t change the fact that Jaune has nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I could dispute the fact that there is nothing to be ashamed of in losing to Lyra Heartstrings, but instead, I’ll just say that hearing you tell him what you just said might seem a little patronising,” Sunset informed her.

Pyrrha looked a little upset to hear it. “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” Sunset declared. “Because it is patronising.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said, a crestfallen look upon her face. “I… I see. In that case… it’s probably for the best that he wishes to be alone then.”

Pyrrha and Ruby started getting undressed for bed, for it was that late. It was that lateness of the hour which made it so surprising that Jaune was still wherever he was; Sunset hoped that he wouldn’t come in late and blunder about the dorm room and wake her up with his racket while he got ready for bed in turn.

In any event, while the other two girls changed, Sunset was on her scroll, looking for any information about Jaune that might explain how he was so good at some subjects and so terrible at others.

Yes, she could have just asked him, but then he’d know that she was curious; and besides, he might choose not to answer some questions, in the same way that Pyrrha hadn’t brought up the fact that she was an actual princess – by certain interpretations, anyway. It was much more reliable to just look up objective information about the boy.

The trouble was that there wasn’t a great deal of objective information out there to be found. Jaune Arc was, to all appearances, a complete nobody. A nobody about whom no one had heard before he had arrived at Beacon. There was no report on his arrival at school, no one was breathlessly collecting information about his doings, he was a man utterly and completely anonymous. There were records of an Arc family, or at least there were records of various Arcs graduating from Beacon, but none of them seemed to have achieved renown after graduating. Once they left the school, they became, just like Jaune himself, anonymous.

If there were any clues as to who Jaune Arc was or how he had managed to come to Beacon despite knowing nothing of aura, then Sunset couldn’t find them. The only thing that she could possibly say after her dive into the name Jaune Arc and anything connected with him was that he was a little more pretentious than he let on: his sword was called Crocea Mors, which turned out not to be a name plucked from thin air but actually the name given to the sword wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland, fourth son of King Edward Farstrider. Considering that his namesake had been known as the finest swordsman in the Kingdom of Vale that his father had created, it demonstrated that Jaune had big ambitions, if nothing else.

And that’s a good thing. Big ambitions are nothing to be ashamed of.

I just hope he can fulfill them, for all our sakes.

And who knows? Perhaps he’ll turn out to have an unexpected knowledge of ancient history, too.

As Ruby and Pyrrha brushed their teeth and got to bed, Sunset kept on searching. She hadn’t thought much about it last night, but breakfast had reminded her about the R in Team STRQ, the name which had had such an effect on Ruby as she was telling her sister about the markings on the wall.

A search for Team STRQ revealed that they were no ordinary huntsman team, distinguished only by having once occupied SAPR’s dorm room and by two of them having gone on to become Ruby’s parents. No, Team STRQ had distinguished themselves as early as their first year, when Mountain Glenn had fallen to the grimm. As hordes of grimm, fresh from devouring the new settlement, poured through the forests of the southeast towards Vale itself, Professor Ozpin had led out the huntsmen of Vale to meet the grimm before they could annihilate the outlying towns and farming villages, meeting the forces of darkness at a place now called Ozpin’s Stand. Huntsmen and huntresses in training, students brave enough to volunteer, had gone out with Professor Ozpin’s force, forming a second line of defence to the rear. Except Team STRQ had somehow found themselves in the front line, where they had not only survived the grimm but been credited with holding a section of the defences through which the grimm might have flooded otherwise. Following that, they had gone on to graduate with more missions under their belt than any other team in the history of the academy.

Sunset learned who the R in STRQ was: Raven Branwen, sister to Qrow Branwen, the Q in STRQ. Ruby had referred to him as Uncle Qrow. Clearly, the team had stayed close after graduation; it wasn’t surprising that a family friend who was around all the time would become an honorary uncle figure to the children. But why was it Uncle Qrow but not Aunt Raven? Had she died, like Ruby’s mother? Did they not talk about her out of respect?

“Sunset, would you please turn that off?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset looked at her. “Why?”

“Because the light is a little disturbing when we’re trying to sleep,” Pyrrha explained.

“You’ll just be woken up when Jaune gets back anyway,” Sunset informed her.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded, “but in any case, would you mind turning it off? There are studies that show that the kind of light emitted from scrolls and such like reduces your ability to sleep after looking at them,” she added.

“Really?” Sunset muttered. “I’ll… okay, I’ll turn it off.” She could find out more about Raven Branwen, who was probably dead somewhere, another day.

In the meantime, reading about Team STRQ, she kind of wished that another great wave of grimm would descend on Vale so that Team SAPR could prove themselves just as Team STRQ once had.

Somehow, we will prove ourselves just as great.

You’ll see.

They’ll all see.

The next day marked the first leadership class for Sunset and the other team leaders; while their teams had a free period to get started on some of the homework that they had already received, they had made their way into one of the lecture halls.

Leadership was held in one of the smaller halls than those in which they had taken History and Grimm Studies the day before; all the lecture halls at Beacon were much larger than they needed to be for the volume of students, because they all needed to accommodate the visiting students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade Academies for the Vytal festival who would begin arriving in second semester. For now, that meant that there was a lot of space to spread out and choose where to sit. That the class would expand starting next term was as true for Leadership as it was for any other class, but in Leadership, the expansion would be on a far smaller order, and thus, the classroom was comparably smaller: from halls that could hold two hundred students to one that could seat perhaps fifty. But for now, it was just Sunset, Weiss, Yang, Blake, and a few other people who were even less relevant left to scatter themselves across the length and breadth of the lecture theatre. Yang took a seat next to Sunset, which Sunset found rather unnecessary, while Blake Belladonna of BLBL sat herself up in the far corner, high above the rest. While she waited for their professor, she got out a book and started reading. Weiss Schnee sniffed as she walked past Sunset and Yang and seated herself alone on the next bank of desks along.

How in Remnant do you have the nerve to be snooty with me when it’s your team that’s caused all the trouble so far?

Professor Goodwitch arrived a moment later. “Good afternoon, students,” she said, her heels clicking upon the floor as she strode behind the desk, “and welcome to Leadership. In this class, I will endeavour to assist you as you navigate the leadership and management of your teams. Yes, Miss Belladonna?”

Blake had raised her hand. “Professor, can you tell us why we specifically were chosen as leaders?”

“Because, Miss Belladonna, when confronted with a particular obstacle during Initiation, as each of you were, you devised a plan to overcome that obstacle and were able to execute that plan with the support of others. You are not leaders yet, any of you, but you each have the potential to become leaders, if you are willing to work hard and apply yourselves. As with every class, innate potential is no substitute for hard work. Now, a question to each of you: from whence does the authority of a leader derive?” Professor Goodwitch paused for a moment to let the question germinate in their minds. “Miss Shimmer?”

“From the authority of the person who appointed that leader,” Sunset said. “Flowing upwards in a chain.”

Professor Goodwitch raised one eyebrow. “A very Atlesian response, Miss Shimmer. Miss Xiao Long?”

Yang was silent for a moment. “From the fact that your team likes you enough to follow you, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “Miss Schnee?”

“From strength of character, Professor,” Weiss declared primly. “A true leader leaves those beneath her with no choice but to follow; she compels their obedience by force of will.”

Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Miss Belladonna?”

Blake frowned. “A mixture of what Sunset and Weiss said: a leader can lead by relying on the authority that appointed them to lead, but there are times when they have to rely on compulsion to force the obedience of those beneath them, either emotional… or physical.”

“You think that a leader should lead by physically intimidating her subordinates, Miss Belladonna?” asked Professor Goodwitch.

Blake hesitated. “It happens,” she said.

“That does not make it good practice,” Professor Goodwitch replied, the mildness of her tone concealing the sting of her rebuke. “You have all grasped some part of the truth,” she said, as she picked up a piece of chalk and began to write on the board. “A good leader will, ideally, be popular with those that they lead, but a leader who prioritises their likeable image may hesitate to make the tough decisions in an emergency, and one can be liked without possessing authority. Equally, in ordinary circumstances a leader may be able to rely upon deriving their authority from a chain of command, but in the field, when higher authority feels very distant and tempers begin to fray, an appeal of such nature may hold less weight than a more personal consideration. A good leader must command respect and obedience in their own right. All of which being said, there is no one right way to be a leader, although it must also be noted that there are several wrong ways.”

The class continued with a notable lack of teaching Sunset how to get people to do what she wanted. While more overtly harsh and prickly than Princess Celestia, Professor Goodwitch still seemed to be more of an advocate of the school of persuasion – or rather, the idea that people should want to follow their leader – than the school of compulsion. It was… a little disappointing.

Sunset rejoined her teammates for Legends of Remnant, where Doctor Oobleck was back to explain the significance of this particular class.

“Vale, Atlas, Mistral, Vacuo,” he said. “Here at Beacon, we have students from all four kingdoms, nations separated by great distance, each with their own proud history and culture. But if this era of peace in which we live is to continue, we must not forget that we have more that unites us than divides us: humans and faunus alike, we share a common heritage, physically and, more importantly, culturally. In this class, we will study this shared cultural heritage, as well as some of the ancient history of our world at the time in which these stories originated.” He drank some of his coffee. “Please open your textbooks to the first story in the collection: the Warrior in the Wood.”

Sunset opened up her collection of fairy tales of Remnant.

“Would anyone like to read?” Doctor Oobleck asked.

When nobody else seemed particularly eager, Yang raised her hand.

“Excellent,” Doctor Oobleck said. “Carry on, Miss Xiao Long.”

Sunset had to admit that Yang had a good voice for reading stories; judging by what Ruby had said – and it made a lot more sense now that she knew about the death of Ruby’s mom – she’d had a lot of practice at it. Her voice was soothing, gentle; she read stories in much the same way as Princess Celestia had used to read Sunset stories, as lullabies in prose that stroked the ears and calmed the spirit. Ruby seemed completely engrossed in it, and she wasn’t the only one. Even Sunset had to remind herself that this was a class, not storytime, and tried to take notes even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was supposed to be taking notes on. What was the point of this story? The importance of being brave? Man’s need to destroy the environment? What was this story supposed to be saying?

She skipped ahead to the ending in the hopes that it would make a little more sense.

“I fell in love with her the moment I saw her silver eyes.”

Sunset blinked.

Silver eyes. There it was, the last line of the story, sitting there so emphatically as though it was of great importance.

Silver eyes.

Sunset glanced at Ruby. She didn’t notice - she was too engrossed in the tale and in Yang’s telling - but Sunset could see her eyes, her silver eyes, those eyes that gleamed with a colour unseen in Remnant or Equestria.

That has to mean something.

Doesn’t it?

At the end of that particular class, as everyone was packing up their books and notes, Doctor Oobleck said, “Miss Rose, Miss Shimmer, please stay behind after class.”

Sunset and Ruby glanced at one another.

“Did we do something wrong, Doctor?” Sunset asked.

“Nothing to worry about, Miss Shimmer,” Doctor Oobleck said. “All will be revealed in good time, don’t worry.”

The fact that he didn’t just out and tell them what was going on meant that it was hard for Sunset to take his advice. "Don’t worry", he said, but how could she not worry when she’d just been asked to stay behind after class for reasons that she couldn’t understand?

She wondered if Ruby had done something, and she, Sunset, was being punished as her team leader for failing to stop it, but she couldn’t think of anything that Ruby had done in the two days they’d been here that would have warranted punishment either.

Whatever the reason, Sunset and Ruby remained seated when all the other students left; Pyrrha and Jaune gave the pair sympathetic glances. Then Doctor Oobleck left, leaving Sunset feeling even more confused than she had been before.

They were left alone in the lecture hall.

Sunset glanced at Ruby. “Any ideas?”

Ruby shook her head. “I thought you might know.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask,” Sunset replied. She clasped her hands together and felt her ears twitching a little with uncertainty.

The door into the lecture hall opened, and Professor Ozpin entered, followed closely by Professor Goodwitch.

“I apologise if I’ve made you nervous,” Professor Ozpin said, his tone apologetic but at the same time amused as well. “I thought this might be a little less nerve-wracking than calling you up to my office.”

Sunset got to her feet. “Professor Ozpin,” she said, “I wasn’t aware that either of us had done anything that deserved being called to your office.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “On the contrary, Miss Shimmer, you have reminded me of my duty of care to my students, to Miss Rose in particular.”

“Me?” Ruby said. “But I… I don’t understand.”

“Miss Shimmer informed me that you were… uncomfortable in the locker room before combat class yesterday,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. She bowed her head, and looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry for-“

“There’s no need to apologise, Ruby,” Professor Ozpin said, in a voice that was laced with regret even as it seemed to be trying to approach a certain grandfatherliness of manner. “Rather, I should be the one apologising to you. I chose to admit you to this school early. I should have given more consideration to what that meant.”

“It’s just that I’ve never had to get changed with a lot of boys watching me before,” Ruby admitted, “and I didn’t really want to go in the showers afterwards, because, well… Sunset was really great about it yesterday, but-”

“But I’d hoped there might be a better solution than me trying to shield Ruby from view with my own body,” Sunset added.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said. “Fortunately, the locker rooms at Beacon are very large and very extensive. At present, the rooms and showers for the first year students are much larger than they need to be, but that will not be the case once the visiting students arrive. However, as the first-years do not take any classes with the third-years, I think that it will be acceptable for Miss Rose to move her equipment into the third-year locker room and use the showers there. You will be alone, but you may find it preferable to being observed by boys and girls two years older than yourself.”

“Yes,” Ruby said, in a high voice. “That sounds… a lot better. Except… maybe… could Sunset be there with me? I trust her, and then I wouldn’t be completely by myself.”

The two professors glanced at one another. “That would be possible,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Do you have any objection, Miss Shimmer?”

Yes, I’m going to miss the scintillating conversation in the locker room. “No, Professor,” Sunset said. “Although…”

Ruby looked at her. Professor Goodwitch raised one eyebrow. “Although, Miss Shimmer?”

“If I’m going to move as well, then it might make sense for the whole team to move,” Sunset said. “That way, I can keep an eye on everyone and outline strategies in the locker room before a match.”

“An interesting proposition,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “What do you think, Ruby?”

“I… I’d like that,” Ruby said. “Jaune… Jaune would never do anything… like that, and Pyrrha’s really great. If they don’t mind, then, that would be great.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Glynda, if you wouldn’t mind making the arrangements?”

“Of course, Professor Ozpin,” Professor Goodwitch said. “If you two will come with me, then we can round up Mister Arc and Miss Nikos and get your lockers switched along with all of your equipment.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said.

“Thanks, Professor Ozpin,” Ruby added.

“No thanks necessary, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “I hope that your four years here at Beacon will be instructive, but also enjoyable. Miss Shimmer: good work.”

“What team leader wouldn’t take care of their own, professor?” Sunset replied.

Professor Ozpin smiled faintly. “Quite so, Miss Shimmer.”

“Now, if you’ll both come with me,” Professor Goodwitch insisted.

As they began to follow Professor Goodwitch, Sunset muttered to Ruby, “Hey, Ruby, why did you want me in the third-year locker room with you?”

“Because it’s like I told Professor Ozpin,” Ruby said. “I trust you, Sunset.”

'I trust you.' When was the last time anyone had told Sunset they trusted her? Flash might have, it was hard to remember, because when she thought of Flash, all of her memories became obscured with this cloud of anger. Not even Princess Celestia had really trusted Sunset, not really.

Hearing that from Ruby…it made her feel things.

Even if she couldn’t rightly say what those things were.

Because they weren’t quite like anything she’d felt before.

Free Afternoon (New)

Free Afternoon

Pyrrha looked up at the statue that dominated the Beacon courtyard. The beowolf in its cave below snarled into her face, while the huntsman and huntress standing above loomed over her.

She would not claim any great expertise in statuary, but the more she looked at it, the more she felt confirmed in what she had said to Jaune: that these were representations not of two people but rather embodiments of all huntsmen and huntresses, representing the ideals that they should all strive for in this prestigious academy.

Whether or not everyone who walked these halls actually lived up to those ideals was another matter.

Pyrrha headed herself away from such thoughts; it was not for her to cast aspersions on the character of her fellow students. It was not her place, being only a first year student herself, to even consider doing so. There were some people she did not like, but she had no right to claim flawlessness. She was as unsuited to embody the ideals of a huntress as anyone else; everyone here was imperfect, flawed, in need of refinement. That was why they had four years of instruction ahead of them, to make them into that which, at present, they were not: paragons of virtue to shine above all others.

Pyrrha wandered away from the statue, across the lawn that lay in front of the dining hall. It was after lunch on a Friday afternoon, which meant that the courtyard contained more than a few casually dressed students taking advantage of a time without classes, wandering this way or that on their way to somewhere interesting or important. Pyrrha herself sat down in the shade of an oak tree rising above the lawn and took out her scroll.

It was time to call her mother.

She was not particularly looking forward to this. That was why she was out here instead of in the dorm room: she didn't want to speak to her mother in front of Ruby. It was true that in the courtyard there were eyes turning in her direction, but nobody disturbed her privacy, and nobody, as far as Pyrrha could tell, was close to overhear what passed between the two of them.

Pyrrha opened up her scroll and found her mother in her directory.

She swallowed as she pushed the ‘call' button.

There was a pause as she waited for her mother to answer. But eventually she did answer, and the stern face of Lady Nikos, her hair turning grey early, appeared on the screen of Pyrrha's scroll.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Good evening, Mother," she said, for Mistral was several hours ahead of Vale.

"Good afternoon, Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said, her tone neutral. "So, you have completed your first week of studies at Beacon."

"I have, mother," Pyrrha replied.

"You have been assigned to a team?"

“I… I have," Pyrrha agreed, with a slight hesitation. "Team Sapphire."

Lady Nikos blinked. "Team Sapphire," she repeated. "You are not the leader of your team, then?"

Of course it would come to this. "No, Mother."

"Why not?"

Because I would not wish to be a leader even if I were one. "It seems that Professor Ozpin does not consider me to be the stuff of which leaders are made," Pyrrha said. Which is fine by me.

Lady Nikos did not appear to see it the same way. Her face crinkled with distaste. "And who is this Professor Ozpin and what is his background that he should judge you, scion of the line of Theseus and Juno, to be unfit or ill-suited for leadership?"

"I do not know his background, Mother, but I know him to be the man who saved Vale from the grimm and to be youngest man ever appointed a headmaster of one of the four academies-"

"Over a mere eighty year history," Lady Nikos replied. "Those who were boys and girls when the academies were founded endure in their dotage in the four kingdoms."

"My point, Mother, is that Professor Ozpin's ancestors or lack thereof are irrelevant in the face of the achievements of the man himself," Pyrrha declared. "I have no right to judge him simply because my name is Nikos."

"That your name is Nikos would have assured you a place of leadership at Haven," Lady Nikos informed her.

"Which is one of the reasons I did not wish to attend Haven," Pyrrha replied.

Lady Nikos sighed. "In all places bar the battlefield, you are too swift to retire."

"Perhaps, Mother."

"If you do not lead your team then who does?"

"The name of my team leader is Sunset Shimmer," Pyrrha said.

"And who is she?"

"Sunset is from Atlas," Pyrrha explained. "And has…a commanding manner."

"Is that all you can tell me?"

"I cannot recount her ancestry for you, Mother," Pyrrha sighed. "Ordinary people don't talk of such things casually."

"Hmph," said Lady Nikos. "And your other companions?"
"Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose, both of Vale," Pyrrha said. "All I can tell you of them is that Ruby's mother was a huntress, tragically slain in the service of mankind." Like my father. She decided not to mention that Ruby was only fifteen years old and admitted thanks to the personal intervention of Professor Ozpin; it was the sort of thing that Pyrrha guessed might make her mother jealous.

Lady Nikos' face assumed a solemn mien. "Then like your father, she is to be honoured for her sacrifice, and commended."

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured.

Lady Nikos paused for a moment. "Are they worthy to stand beside you in battle?"

"They are," Pyrrha declared.

"And yet you stand above them all?"

"I have not been tested against every opponent," Pyrrha replied. She had the distinct impression that in the early combat classes, Professor Goodwitch was creating a hierarchy in her own mind of where the freshmen students stood relative to one another, as benchmarks against which she could measure their progress, or the lack of it, over the course of semesters and years. Thus, Pyrrha had, as yet, only been pitted against rather minor opponents – the likes of Russell Thrush and Sky Lark – whom she had swept aside with ease. More serious opponents such as Weiss Schnee were waiting in the wings.

"Are there any that you fear?"

"There are many strong students this year," Pyrrha replied.

"That is not an answer," Lady Nikos responded.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. She did not wish to appear arrogant, but… "No," she said, after a little while. Ruby's sister Yang was strong, but Pyrrha had fought strong opponents in the past; she could beat Yang as she had beaten Arslan. Nora could do her harm if Pyrrha allowed herself to be hit by the other girl's hammer, but she was confident in her ability to avoid getting hit. Blake would be a challenge, but her use of her semblance was not perfect, and Pyrrha believed that so long as she could hold out against her, then Blake would leave her opening to exploit. Weiss, with her versatile glyphs, would be the greatest challenge, and the one that Pyrrha was most looking forward to, but there would be a way for her to win. There always was.

"I am glad to hear it," Lady Nikos said. "Keep me informed of your progress."

"Yes, Mother," Pyrrha agreed.

Lady Nikos stared up at her out of her scroll. "You are… my greatest accomplishment," she said, before hanging up.

Pyrrha looked down at the now blank scroll in her hands. "I love you too, Mother," she whispered.

She put the scroll away as she got up and began to walk back towards the dorm room.

Jaune stood outside of the Team WWSR dorm room, casually but smartly dressed in his best pair of jeans, an orange T-shirt, and…well, okay, it was his school jacket, but it wasn’t as if he had a casual jacket to wear instead.

On the other side of this door waited the girl of his dreams.

Weiss Schnee. From the moment he set eyes on her, he had felt as though there was something drawing them together, something calling to him. Her eyes were as blue as pools of the purest, clearest water, her face was as fair as cream, and her voice… since he found out that she was a well-known figure in the world, he had done a little research – not enough to make it creepy – and when she sang, by God, she had a voice like… well, an angel. When she sang about expectations, about people not seeing you for who you were, about nobody thinking that you could do it and making you feel small…it was like she was speaking into his soul. It was incredible that he’d never come across her music before, because some of her stuff felt like it was the anthem to his life. If that wasn’t proof that they were fated to be together, then what was it?

There was a red string of fate binding them together.

Sure, she wasn’t only beautiful but rich and from a powerful family, but come on, there were lots of stories about the plucky farmboy with a pocket full of dreams winning the heart of the beautiful princess, even if he had to thaw it out first.

That was why he was here. After a gruelling week of training on the rooftop - to no avail, as he seemed to keep getting his ass kicked in Professor Goodwitch’s combat class regardless - Friday afternoon was finally here, and that meant free time! They could do whatever they wanted. Yes, he could do his homework, or he could get dressed and ask the girl of his dreams if she wanted to go down into Vale with him and see the sights.

He wasn’t sure which sights, since he’d never been to Vale before himself, but he was sure that there were some sights to be seen, and if they wandered around long enough, then they would be sure to see them.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

He realised after knocking that he had no way of being sure that Weiss would answer the door and not any of her team members, at least one of whom didn’t like him very much.

The door was opened, in point of fact, by Flash Sentry, the guy who Sunset didn’t like very much. The guy Sunset seemed to hate in fact, although he hadn’t seemed so bad to Jaune. He could kick Jaune’s butt in a fight, but that didn’t exactly put him in an exclusive club, unfortunately.

Sure, Sunset really, really didn’t like him, but Sunset could be harsh. She could be nice – look at what she’d done for Ruby over the changing room thing – but she could be harsh too. She was starting to lose patience with him over the whole ‘sucking at combat’ thing. He could tell by the way she looked at him and by the way she spoke to him in the locker room after the matches. He could hear her voice getting even harsher than it already was.

She wasn’t too happy about the fact that he was often tired during class either. It wasn’t his fault that he was tired from training – or trying to train – on the rooftop, and it wasn’t his fault that their teachers couldn’t hold his attention. He wasn’t like Sunset or Pyrrha - he just didn’t find History interesting - and not even Sunset herself found Grimm Studies interesting; she just forced herself to suffer through it, and… he didn’t have the energy left to do that.

All of which meant that he was kind of looking forward to getting away from Sunset for a little bit and spending his free time doing something fun, but which also meant that he wasn’t entirely sure what to think of Flash Sentry.

Flash seemed to know exactly what to think about him, though.

“You need to go,” he said, firmly but not without some anxiety in his voice.

“Go?” Jaune repeated. “But I just got here. Is Weiss around?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Flash insisted. “Just turn around and walk away while you still can.”

“If you just let me-”

“Who is it out there?” Cardin asked from somewhere inside the dorm room.

“Uh, no one,” Flash replied, trying to push Jaune away.

“You’re spending an awfully long time trying to get rid of no one,” Cardin replied, as he lumbered into view behind Flash. He loomed over both of the smaller boys, casting a shadow over them both as he blocked out the light from the windows. He glared down at Jaune with undisguised distaste. His gaze flickered down to Flash. “What, did you think that I was going to do something to him?”

Flash turned to face him, a shrug upon his shoulders. “It crossed my mind.”

Cardin snorted. “Not with her highness in the bathroom. What do you want, Arc?”

“I…” Jaune swallowed. His throat felt very dry. “I’m here to talk to Weiss.”

Cardin rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, Friday afternoon, free time, and you want to see if she’ll go out with you into the city, am I wrong?”

“No,” Jaune admitted.

Cardin leaned against the doorframe. “You know, I was going to meet my girlfriend in Vale this afternoon. Do you know why I’m not going to meet her this afternoon?”

“Uh-”

“Because I’m stuck serving detention instead thanks to you!” Cardin snapped.

Jaune guessed that pointing out that Cardin was the one who had chosen to shove him into that locker might not be the best idea. “There’s… always tomorrow, I guess?” he ventured.

“Believe me, the fact that there is always tomorrow is the reason I’m not throwing you out of a window right now,” Cardin declared.

“And nobody is more grateful for that than I am, really,” Jaune said quickly. He then hesitated. “Wait, you have a girlfriend?”

“We don’t believe she’s real either!” Russell called from somewhere inside the room.

Cardin growled wordlessly.

“I’m sorry!” Jaune yelped. “I meant to say that you have a girlfriend and that’s great! Congratulations! I’m sure she’s pretty and nice, and you’re deeply in love because that’s what you want, right? That’s what we all want! That’s why I came down here to-”

The bathroom door opened and Weiss emerged, looking as radiant as ever. The light seemed to shine from her silver-white bolero, and it was if he could see sparkles in her hair as though it was bedecked with diamonds.

It kind of was, thanks to the tiara she wore.

“We have a visitor,” Flash informed her, as though he was the doorman. Both he and Cardin stepped back to let Weiss see him more clearly.

“No,” Weiss said, as she walked towards the door.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask!” Jaune protested.

Weiss stopped in the doorway, one hand upon the door itself. “Were you, or were you not, about to ask me out in some fashion? To go into Vale with you, perhaps?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“No.”

“Why not?” Jaune cried. “You’re not even giving me a chance!”

“You’re right,” Weiss agreed. “I’m not. Because this isn’t a dating service, this is Beacon Academy, and I came here to learn how to fight monsters, not find a boyfriend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I intend to devote my free time to being the best student, and huntress, I can be.” Her expression allowed itself a degree of cold contempt. “Perhaps you should consider doing the same.”

She shut the door. She didn’t slam it, but she nevertheless shut it very firmly.

Jaune stared at the closed door for a moment. He sighed, his whole body sagging.

She was right. He wasn’t worthy of someone like her. She was so far above him in terms of her talents and ability. If he was to win her hand he needed to work a lot harder, improve a lot more, manifest his inner potential in outer skill, and… and then she’d make time for him.

Only… right now he didn’t have the energy to go back to the dorm room or to the library and work on his essays. He didn’t even have the energy to go back to the roof and keep training.

He just needed something to make him feel better.

And he thought he knew where to go.

According to ‘A History of the Four Academies’, the land on which Beacon Academy was built had once been a royal estate, wide lands on the edge of Vale used for hunting in the forest and fishing in the river, until the King had bestowed it in perpetuity upon the nascent academy for the purposes of building a school there. The only part of the estate not granted to Beacon was a hunting lodge upon the edge of the lands, which was instead given to its elderly caretaker in recognition of his loyal service. It had passed through a few hands since then, until coming into the possession of the retired huntress Benni Haven, who ran it with her husband as a restaurant on the edge of her old alma mater.

Benni Haven's, as it was imaginatively named, still had the look of a hunting lodge, the bucolic log cabin with the incongruous neon sign bolted to the roof looking oddly placed so close to the vast, grandiose academy in whose shadow it dwelt. A sign proclaimed ‘Eat in or Take Out' just outside the door as Sunset walked down the gravel path towards the establishment.

On the one hand, she didn't really feel like going to Vale today; she would need to at some point, possibly, but she wasn't in the mood for it. Not after the kind of prejudice she'd gotten from that guy in the dust shop. If that was the standard of service she could expect in Vale, then she wanted as little to do with it as possible. On the other hand, she didn't want to stay on campus, either. She was starting to get a little fed up with certain members of her team, and putting some distance between them, even if it was only a little way, might do her some good.

And so she approached the door, which was made of nine panes of glass, through which she could see that it was still pretty quiet in here. Sunset pushed the door open. The interior design was rustic, harking back to the building's original purpose: the walls were wood-panelled, and the floor was bare floorboard without a carpet. There was a fake ursa head mounted to the wall above a great stone fireplace. A large picture of four huntresses, dressed for combat and posing with their weapons, hung on the opposite wall, alongside numerous smaller pictures of various different huntsman teams. What was supposed to look like a stuffed beowolf stood by the door, snarling at the patrons as they came through the door.

The sign on the beowolf's plinth said 'Fluffy'.

"Hey there, kid," cried a squirrel faunus in a genial voice, her fluffy tail climbing up her back to poke up over her shoulder as she made her way out from behind the counter on the far side of the room to approach Sunset. "Don't think I've seen you around before. Freshman, or has it taken you this long to find your way here?"

"I'm a new student," Sunset replied.

"Always glad to meet the new kids," the faunus said, as she thrust out her hand. "Benni Haven, glad to meet you."

Sunset took her hand slowly, and with a little reluctance. "Sunset Shimmer."

"Team?"

Sunset blinked. "Team Sapphire."

"Which would make you the leader, huh?" Benni asked. She was a tall woman, with a frame that had retained its muscular physique - or some of it at least - although one of her arms was gone and replaced with a prosthetic. Her head was shaved on both sides, leaving her sandy blonde hair in a central strip running down the middle of her head.

"That's right," Sunset said.

"Congratulations!" Benni said jovially. "You know, if you bring your whole team down here, then you can get a picture taken with Fluffy over here. You get one copy, and I'll put the other on the wall, with the rest of my boys and girls."

Sunset looked at the picture wall – there were so many they were starting to crowd out the wood-panelling – with a little more attention this time. There were a lot of photographs, all of full teams and all of them posing with or around Fluffy the Beowolf, whose snarl seemed almost comical when matched with the smiling faces of the students around him.

"I'll… bear it in mind," Sunset said quietly.

"You'd better. Those smiles don't last forever," Benni said, her tone descending into wistfulness. "And not enough people remember these kids… so I try to." She smiled, although it seemed that there was a slightly forced edge to it now. "Anyway, what can I do you for, Sunset Shimmer? Eating in or taking out?"

"Eating in," Sunset said.

"Well, as you can see, you've beaten the rush, so help yourself to a table, and I'll be right with you," Benni told her, before she turned around and walked back to the counter.

She was right about Sunset being able to help herself to a table: at present, there was only one table in the entire establishment that was actually being occupied, and that by Lyra and Bon Bon, both of Team BLBL, and Dove Bronzewing of Team YRDN. The two girls were sitting across from the lone boy, both of them wearing very sympathetic looks upon their faces as they reached around their ice-cream sundaes towards him.

She could hear them talking before they noticed she was here. “You know,” Dove said. “The owner is only the third faunus I’ve seen since I left home; she’s a lot nicer than Sunset.”

“Every faunus is nicer than Sunset,” Lyra remarked. “It’s not hard.”

Sunset grunted as she made her presence known. "Menage a trois?" she asked.

Lyra looked up at her. "For your information, Sunset, it's perfectly possible for a boy and a girl to be friends with nothing going on."

"And besides," Bon Bon added, "Dove is spoken for, aren't you, Dove?"

Sunset snorted. "If Dove is spoken for then what does she think of you being here with these two?"

Dove didn't appear to find that particularly amusing. He sat with a dark look on his face. "She's gone," he muttered.

"Who?" Sunset asked, because she had nothing better to do.

"Dove's true love," Lyra sighed.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

"You should hear the way he talks about her," Bon Bon insisted.

"I'll pass on that," Sunset muttered.

"I promised I'd meet her here," Dove said in a maudlin voice. "But she… she didn't wait for me."

"The grimm probably didn't give her much choice in the matter," Sunset said harshly.

"She's not dead!" Bon Bon corrected her. "She's gone. She… left."

"We wanted to help Dove find her, so we spoke to some of the older students," Lyra added. "She wasn't a student, but Team Coffee remembered seeing her around the campus for a while last year. And then, one day, she just… disappeared."

"If she wasn't a student, then she probably got bored hanging around a school and went somewhere else," Sunset said.

"Then why wouldn't she let me know?" Dove demanded.

"Probably because she wasn't nearly as into you as you were into her," Sunset informed him. "It happens, more often than you'd think." She walked away in search of a different table.

Nevertheless, the voices of the other customers carried across the restaurant towards her. Lyra said, "Maybe we should take a look around Vale? We could stick up fliers?"

"Before we do that, Dove, why don't you talk to Professor Ozpin?" Bon Bon suggested. "Maybe he can tell you something about Amber?"

"Perhaps," Dove agreed. "Although…he'd have no reason to tell me if he did."

There was a pause, before Lyra said, "What are you going to do, if you can't find her?"

"Wait," Dove replied. "She'll come back. If our promise means anything to her, then she'll come back. And when she does, she'll find that I've gotten strong enough to keep her safe."

"We all will," Bon Bon agreed.

Sunset snorted disdainfully.

There was another pause. "What is your problem, Sunset?" Lyra demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Sunset said idly. "Just the thought of you three becoming strong enough to protect anyone, as if you're not wasting your time here."

"Don't listen to her, Dove," Lyra insisted. "It's like Professor Goodwitch said, so long as we work hard and keep at it, then we can surpass all the prodigies in our year and become the greatest huntsmen in Beacon."

No, you won't, Sunset thought. I've claimed that spot, and I'm not giving it up.

Especially not to the likes of you.

The back of the dorm room was taken up with the four beds, neatly lined up against the wall, two on either side of the window. On the other side of the room, on either side of the door, were two long desks bolted to the wall where the students could work.

Pyrrha sat at one of those desks, head bent a little so that her teardrop pendants dropped down on either side of her face from her circlet, and tried to get to grips with her Grimm Studies essay. The subject was how to tackle an ursa, with Professor Port having asked that they should describe how to take on multiple of the creatures for extra credit.

The assignment itself was not exceedingly difficult, but it was made a little tricky for Pyrrha by the way that a pair of blue eyes kept flashing before her eyes. That would have been quite enough, but her thoughts kept straying to imagining Jaune arm in arm with Weiss Schnee, and it made her feel a little queasy in the stomach.

It was wrong of her, she knew. Jaune didn't belong to her: he was her partner, not her husband, and she had no claim on him, nor any reason to believe that he would not be happy with Weiss Schnee. She cringed at that particular thought; she was thinking as if the two of them were about to be wed. That was hardly the way of things in Vale, or even in Atlas. Even in Mistral, to be frank, courtships had gotten longer as the modern age wore on and the cultures of the west disseminated eastward. Jaune was – probably, Pyrrha would not pretend to know his thoughts – not looking to settle down with Weiss, merely to have some fun with her.

But he wanted to have fun with Weiss and not with Pyrrha.

She could not help but wonder if this was because he didn't really know who she was. The name of Pyrrha Nikos meant nothing to him, and so… neither did she.

That was probably very unfair on her part.

But it was a thought that she could not escape, all the same.

"Do you think he has his answer yet?" Ruby asked.

Pyrrha looked up and twisted around on her seat to look at her younger, smaller teammate. Unlike Pyrrha, who was casually dressed in a cream sweater and a light pink skirt, Ruby was wearing her huntress outfit; but then, Pyrrha supposed that Ruby's outfit was a lot more suitable for casual wear than Pyrrha's. "Are you talking about Jaune?" she asked.

Ruby nodded. She was sat on her bed, reading a comic. Or she had been, at least. Now she was looking at Pyrrha. "Weiss… hasn't said a single nice thing to him since school started; she just sniffs at him and criticises him. Is that what boys like?"

"I… I'm afraid I'm the wrong person to ask, Ruby," Pyrrha admitted. "My…training regimen hasn't left me with a lot of time for… relationships." That probably sounded a little better than saying that the only boys who had ever tried to get close to her were after her for her name and fame, or at least Pyrrha thought it did.

"Oh," Ruby said. "Right."

Pyrrha frowned, ever so slightly. "Is something wrong, Ruby?"

"No," Ruby said quickly. She hesitated. "Pyrrha, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Ruby," Pyrrha replied. "What is it?"

"What's it like, being a tournament fighter?" Ruby asked. "I mean, we don't have anything like that here in Vale."

"No, you don't, do you?" Pyrrha agreed. "Atlas does, but as I understand, it's much more low key than it is in Mistral; there isn't the same… media circus attached to it."

"Why is that?"

"Because Mistral is the home of heroic combat," Pyrrha replied. "I'm not trying to say that my people invented heroes, although no doubt, some in Mistral would make that boast, but we gave Remnant the tradition of combat by champion from which, ultimately, the Vytal Festival descends. A small group of fighters, eventually only a single fighter, defending the honour of the school and the kingdom? That is… a very Mistralian thing, or it comes from a very Mistralian tradition, and we have not forgotten it."

Ruby nodded. "So…is it just like Professor Goodwitch's sparring class, all the time?"

Pyrrha chuckled softly as she got up from her seat and wandered over to her bed. She sat down upon it, the mattress crumpling a little beneath her, as she faced Ruby with her elbows resting upon her knees. "I suppose you could say that, in that it is a sequence of one on one duels fought in an arena. But the atmosphere is completely different. The crowds are much larger and nobody – in the audience or in the arena – is there to learn. They're there to win."

"Why?" Ruby asked.

"Why what?" Pyrrha replied.

"I mean, what's the point?" Ruby demanded. "I mean… no offence, Pyrrha, because you're really good. You're absolutely amazing! Nobody's even touched you in sparring class-"

"It's only been a week," Pyrrha said mildly. "Give it time."

"The point is," Ruby said, "is everyone who fights in the Mistral tournaments that good?"

"Not everyone," Pyrrha said softly, "but at the highest level, it is true that all of the best fighters – Arslan, Kurt, Hector, Oceana, Metella – are around my level of skill."

Ruby hesitated, a frown creasing her young face. "So what are they doing it for? Fighting in tournaments, I mean?"

"I… I can't pretend to know all of their hearts," Pyrrha admitted. "Some do it for the prize money, others do it because they enjoy it. All of them, all of us, do it for the glory that accrues to our names as a result of our victories." And that worked out very well for me, didn't it?

Ruby nodded, but she was still frowning. "Doesn't that seem like a waste to you? All these great fighters with awesome skills, and they're, well, they're wasting them fighting one another so that people can watch and have fun."

"You think that they should be fighting the grimm, the enemies of humanity," Pyrrha said softly. She smiled. "Well, you know that I agree with you," she pointed out.

Ruby's eyes widened, and her voice took on a note of panic. "Yes, I know! I wasn't trying to say that you weren't-"

Pyrrha chuckled. "There's no need to panic, Ruby. I know that you meant nothing unkind by it. And you're right, at the end of day, it is all just… empty spectacle. But at the same time, I wouldn't want to speak ill of my fellow competitors, nor would I have the right. When I won my first title and was borne in a chariot through the streets of the city to the Temple of Victory… I'd never felt so… and I must confess there is still a part of me that…" she trailed off.

Ruby leaned forward. "Come on, Pyrrha, you can't stop there!"

Pyrrha hesitated, feeling suddenly very bashful. "When… when I am in the arena, with Miló in one hand and Akoúo̱ in the other and an opponent in front of me I must defeat, then… it's as if my self - my true self - is only born in that moment as I emerge into the ring. Everything else falls away, the rest of the world disappears, and the arena becomes my world. A world that I can live in. I feel as though it's only in combat that I can show who I really am."

"I don't buy it," Ruby said.

Pyrrha blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't get who you were from watching you in class, although you are amazing to watch," Ruby assured her. "I got who you were from when you stood up for me in front of Weiss on the first day of school."

"Anyone could have done that," Pyrrha told her.

"But they didn't," Ruby reminded her. "You did." Now it was Ruby's turn to hesitate. "I love Crescent Rose, but I don't feel anything special when I get her out. When I fight with her, I don't feel any more me than I did before. Because I'm not fighting for me; I'm fighting for all the people I'm protecting, from the grimm or from bad guys."

"Shepherd of the People," Pyrrha murmured.

"Huh?"

"An old term for a king, found often in Mistralian poetry," Pyrrha said. "It evokes the fact that the first duty of a ruler is to guard his people, as a shepherd guards the flock from wolves."

Ruby's eyebrow rose. "I never said I was a king or anything."

"No," Pyrrha agreed, "but you have a noble heart, Ruby Rose." Nobler than many of the so-called nobles of my home.

A blush rose to Ruby's face. "I... um, I mean I, uh… say, do you want to go into Vale with me?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're new here, right?" Ruby said. "And while I don't live here, I've been to Vale a few times. I could show you around?"

Pyrrha glanced at her unfinished essay. She could, she supposed, do it tomorrow. It might be nice to get off campus, and it would be nice to have a guide to the city. She hadn't really had a chance to explore Vale before the semester started. "I'd love to join you, Ruby; that sounds wonderful. I… don't know what you have planned, but could we look for a hair salon while we're there? I need to find one to use while I'm in Vale."

"But your hair looks great already," Ruby protested.

Pyrrha laughed as she got to her feet. "That's very sweet of you to say, but it takes a lot of work to keep it that way."

"Oh. Right. Sure, we can do that," Ruby agreed. "Do you think Jaune and Sunset would like to join us too?"

Pyrrha frowned. "Isn't Jaune heading into the city with Weiss?"

"But she doesn't like him," Ruby pointed out.

"Yes," Pyrrha accepted. "I suppose there is that." She does not see his worth. Too few do. Poor Jaune.

"I'll call him," Ruby said. She got out her scroll and swiftly selected Jaune from her list of contacts.

Jaune answered on voice only. "Hey, Ruby."

"Hey Jaune," Ruby called. "How did it go with Weiss?"

Jaune's only response was a dispirited moan.

Ruby winced. "That bad, huh?"

"I mean, she said no," Jaune replied, "but she implied it was only because I'm not strong enough to deserve her yet, so I've still got a chance."

Pyrrha and Ruby exchanged glances. Pyrrha could not help but be puzzled. Was that how they did things in Atlas? Court via strength? She supposed it was as good a way as selecting a partner as by their wealth, the antiquity of their name, or by how venerable their noble lineage was; one could argue that it was better to have a strong man than a rich one.

But at the same time, to judge by physical strength alone… how many ogres then would displace men of good heart and character at the forefront of desirability? What of courage, what of compassion?

She could not say what Weiss was thinking.

"Where are you?" Ruby asked.

There was the sound of a chicken clucking. "I'm at the farm," Jaune said.

"Oh," Ruby said. "Do you want to come into Vale with Pyrrha and me and maybe Sunset?"

"Uh, sure," Jaune said. "I've just got a few things to finish off here first."

"Why don't we come down there?" Ruby suggested. "Maybe we can help."

There was a pause on the other side of the scroll. "Okay," Jaune said, sounding a little reluctant.

"Great," Ruby said. "We'll see you down there." She ended the call.

"Do you want to call Sunset as well?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'll call her on the way," Ruby replied, as she got up off her bed and led the way towards the door. Once they both got out into the corridor, Ruby called Sunset.

Sunset, like Jaune before her, answered voice only. "Yes?"

"Hey, Sunset," Ruby said. "We're just on our way down to the farm to meet Jaune, and then the three of us are heading into Vale this afternoon. Do you want to come?"

There was a moment of silence. "What's Jaune doing on the farm?"

"We'll find out when we get there," Pyrrha said. "At least, I suppose we will."

"Tell Jaune to stop playing with animals, knuckle down, and get some work done," Sunset said. "For that matter, you should think about doing the same."

"So… that's a no, then?" Ruby asked rhetorically.

Sunset sighed. "This is me reminding you that we have homework due next week, and I get punished if you turn it in late."

"We have all weekend to work on that," Ruby protested.

"You could do your homework first and then go into town later," Sunset pointed out.

Ruby puffed out her cheeks. "You're kind of a buzzkill, you know."

"I'm your team leader; that's my job."

"So you really don't want to come with us?"

Sunset made a sound that was almost a growl. "No," she said, before the call ended.

"She does have a point about our homework," Pyrrha conceded.

"Come on, Pyrrha!" Ruby whined. "We deserve a break. Besides, don't you want to see what Jaune's up to?"

Pyrrha did, indeed, want to see what Jaune was up to, and so she followed Ruby out of the dorm and across the broad and spacious campus to the farm, where they found Jaune, repairing the fence around the chicken enclosure.

He looked up at them as they approached, smiling at the pair of them. "Hey, Ruby. Hey, Pyrrha, you look nice."

Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. "Oh, thank you. What are you doing?"

"When I got down here, I found that the fence was broken," Jaune explained, "and there were fox prints on the ground."

Ruby gasped. "Oh no, did they get anyone?"

"I don't know," Jaune admitted. "I'd have to know how many there were supposed to be and then count them. But I saw all this wire lying around, and there were tools in that shed over there" – he gestured to a wooden shed not too far away – "and I thought that I'd take care of it.”

"You know how?" Pyrrha asked, curious.

"I have many talents," Jaune declared proudly; his pride lasted all of a moment before he appeared to deflate visibly. "None of which relate to the thing I actually want to do with my life."

Pyrrha sensed it would do no good to protest that he had some talent in what might be called the ancillary skills of a huntsman; she feared he would draw only further despair from the fact that they were, in fact, ancillary, and she did not want that. Instead, she changed the subject. "Did you learn how to do this at home?"

"Yup," Jaune confirmed. "We had our own chicken coop round the back of the house; keeping the foxes out was a constant battle, but we managed it."

"There you go then," Ruby said. "You're already a huntsman, Jaune; you've spent your whole life protecting the innocent and keeping the monsters at bay."

Jaune looked at her, his face crumpling with amusement as an incredulous laugh escaped him. "Thanks, Ruby, but I think if huntsmen ate the people they protected for dinner every so often, they'd be a lot less popular in the kingdoms."

Ruby put her hands on her hips. "You know what I meant, Jaune."

"I do, and I appreciate it," Jaune replied. "Jaune Arc, the Chicken Huntsma- oh, no, please don't either of you repeat that."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand while she giggled.

Jaune laughed. "I'll be done in a little bit, but…do you guys want to help me feed them?"

"Sure!" Ruby chirruped.

"That sounds delightful," Pyrrha said. "Although I've never done anything like it before."

"They'll love you as long as you bring them something to eat," Jaune said. "Come on in, both of you."

As they joined him in the enclosure, Pyrrha asked, "So, did you grow up on a farm?"

"In a farming village," Jaune clarified. "We didn't actually have a farm per se. We grew our own vegetables, had some chickens and a goat, but there were bigger, well, actual farms around too. But it was the kind of place where everyone helped out at the right time of the year: with the gathering come harvest time, with the sheep shearing in spring, there was always something to keep the village busy." He sighed wistfully.

"Do you miss it?" Pyrrha inquired.

Jaune shrugged. "Doesn't everybody miss home?" he asked back. "Or is it just me?"

"No, it isn't," Pyrrha assured him. "I'm sure that Vale is a wonderful city, and I don't regret my choice of Beacon instead of Haven, but Vale… it's not Mistral. It looks different; no doubt, it will feel different, too. The tower, impressive and imposing as it is, is not the same tower that I could look out the window and see every day."

"This place is a lot more crowded than home, or even than Signal," Ruby admitted. "But it's like Yang said: Beacon is our home now, and I think it can be a pretty good one, too."

Pyrrha smiled as she put a hand on Ruby's shoulder. "I'm sure you're right, Ruby; as long as we keep trying to make it so."

In the end, they didn't go into Vale; they spent their afternoon on the farm, the three of them. Pyrrha, for one, didn't object or mind at all. It was calming and relaxing in ways that the hustle and bustle of Vale probably would not have been, for all that they would need to go into the city at some point. But that could wait until later. For now, she could appreciate time spent in the company of her two new friends and a small host of hungry chickens. For now, she could appreciate the fact that things were off to a pretty good start.

Diary (Rewritten)

Diary

Sunset panted. She had already fired off all six shots, there was no way that Weiss was going to give her time to reload, and the aura of the Schnee heiress was still in the green.

A white glyph, shining brilliantly in the darkness of the amphitheatre, appeared beneath Weiss’ feet as she skated gracefully across the ground towards Sunset. Sunset tried to parry with Sol Invictus, but she was too slow, or Weiss was too quick, and she carved off a slice of Sunset’s aura like it was ham as she flew past the fiery faunus. Sunset staggered. She turned as fast as she could to face Weiss as the latter rushed her again. This time, she – just about – managed to parry. Weiss attacked, her rapier flickering in the dim light. Sunset retreated, taking the blows upon the wooden stock of her rifle. She counterattacked, trying to use her heavier weapon to bludgeon Weiss’ slender blade aside, but Weiss was too quick and too nimble.

A glyph of cobalt blue appeared beneath the feet of Weiss Schnee.

Sunset went on the attack, swinging the butt of her weapon at Weiss’ head. Weiss leapt back. Sunset stepped forward... right onto the cobalt blue glyph which launched her upwards into the air.

The ceiling rushed towards Sunset. Her limbs flailed wildly in the air. A flash of light in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Weiss was flying too, leaping from glyph to glyph of gleaming white. She pointed at Sunset with her sword as four shots of some kind of dust burst from the cylinder built into the hilt, flying like missiles to slam into Sunset’s limbs, conjuring more glyphs which held Sunset in place like shackles, suspending her in the air as though she had been nailed to a cross.

For a moment, Weiss hovered above her, blade poised.

Then she descended like a thunderbolt.

Sunset felt the blow strike her in the midriff before she was hurled downwards like an angel cast from heaven to land with a thump upon the ground.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch declared calmly. “Miss Shimmer is unable to continue; Miss Schnee is the victor.”

“Yeah!” Cardin cheered. “Show her who's boss!”

Sunset growled wordlessly as she picked herself up off the floor.

“Miss Schnee,” Professor Goodwitch continued, “you continue to make good use of your semblance. However, I would advise against feigning weakness to lure your opponent into a trap in the future; that kind of feigned error can become a real one in the hands of a skilled opponent.”

Weiss bowed her head. “I’ll bear that in mind, professor.”

“Miss Shimmer, by contrast, you should have made more use of your semblance,” Professor Goodwitch. “Against a swifter opponent, you would have been well advised to try and keep your distance and fight from range.”

Like she would have given me the chance, Sunset thought. Her back and backside were both smarting from the impact. “Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she grunted.

As Sunset, wincing a little, made her way off the stage, she heard Cardin say, “Not so tough now, are you?”

She bared her teeth. Just because your team leader can beat me doesn’t mean I’m not better than you. But it wasn’t just her aura that was smarting as she made her way back to the bench where her team was waiting for her.

Sunset was halfway through her second week at Beacon, and over the course of the week and a half that she’d been here, she had learned a few things about her team and about the other teams that made up the freshman class.

The first thing she’d learned was that she did not like Weiss Schnee and Team WWSR one bit. And it wasn’t just because it was the team that her ex was on, either; in fact, that had absolutely nothing to do with it, not one bit. The sight of Flash hanging around with little Miss Schnee, rich and privileged and ever so beautiful, left her absolutely cold. It filled Sunset with resentment not at all.

Nor did it have anything to do with the fact that Weiss had just beaten her in sparring class. Okay, that certainly didn’t make it any better, but she hadn’t liked Weiss long before today.

No, Sunset’s problem with WWSR started and finished with the fact that they were awful.

Flash’s awfulness needed no more introduction from Sunset, except to note that his continuous attempts to play the nice guy who would never do anything so awful as dump his girlfriend because of her race only caused Sunset to resent him more and more every time she witnessed his phoney act. Weiss… Sunset resented Weiss simply for being Weiss Schnee. She was absolutely convinced that Russell had been looking at Ruby more than he should have been, and Cardin… Cardin. Cardin, Cardin, Cardin.

It had started to seem as if Cardin Winchester had the opportunity to do something petty, he would take it... provided Weiss wasn’t around. When she was, he stayed on something approaching his best behaviour, or as much as a lout like him could manage, but when she wasn’t, then there was no act so low he wouldn’t stoop to, no prank too petty for him to pull.

Cardin apparently hadn’t liked the ‘special treatment’ that Team SAPR received in getting to move to a completely different part of the locker room than everyone else. A lot of people hadn’t liked it, in fairness, but only Cardin had reacted to it by presenting Ruby with a dummy and calling her cape a ‘baby blanket,’ a nickname which had spread to Russell and to Sky Lark of Team BLBL. The worst part was that he wasn’t doing things that Sunset could actually catch him at, so there was no way that she could report him to Professor Goodwitch, but she knew who it was who had sprayed ‘Filthy Faunus’ on her locker door; she knew who it was who had grabbed her tail from behind and given it such a hard tug that she fell on her backside, even if they’d run off before she could see who it was; and she knew who had thrown Jaune into that dumpster, even if he said that he hadn’t seen who did it.

Sunset knew exactly who the problem was, and it was making her seethe as she sat down next to Ruby.

“What was that?” Ruby hissed.

“What was what?” Sunset replied sharply.

“You were holding back!” Ruby insisted. “Why didn’t you teleport?”

“Because I don’t want to advertise all the things that I can do with my semblance,” Sunset replied in a hushed voice.

“Ooh, you’re holding back so that everyone will underestimate you!”

No, I just think it’s best if people don’t ask too many questions about how astonishingly versatile my ‘semblance’ is. I’m not the Great Weiss Schnee with her marvellous inherited semblance that can do just about anything, after all. Faunus like me are supposed to be limited in our abilities.

Of the three members of her team, Ruby was the one that Sunset got along with the most, if only because there was nothing about her to object to. Yes, there was the fact that she was a prodigy, admitted to Beacon two years early on the strength of her skills, but it was hard to bear her the kind of malice that Sunset bore towards, for example, Pyrrha or Weiss, because she was just so… Sunset couldn’t exactly explain it. Or at least she was having trouble finding the right words for it. But it was impossible for Sunset to feel as though she was looking at a rival when she looked at Ruby, mainly because Ruby clearly wasn’t looking at a rival when she looked at Sunset. In those guileless eyes of silver, there was no concern, no weighing up, nothing, in fact, but affection.

Sunset hadn’t come to Beacon to find friends, she hadn’t come here to be loved by her peers… but she had come here to be adored. That was the entire point of this whole exercise: if she couldn’t ascend, then at least she would be exalted in the hearts of men. The affection of one little girl in a red cape was not the fulfilment of her ambitions, but it was a lot better than nothing.

That wasn’t to say that Ruby had no problems – in many of her academic subjects, she was doing as bad or worse than Jaune, struggling to keep her head above water to the extent that Sunset was giving serious consideration to writing her essays for her in order to keep up the team’s grade average – but even those problems didn’t inspire any great resentment in Sunset’s heart. It was like… the thought of doing something to hurt Ruby, it… it made Sunset’s stomach start to feel a bit uneasy for some reason, as though she’d eaten something that hadn’t gone down right.

“For our next match, will Jaune Arc and Sky Lark please make their way up onto the stage?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Sunset cringed. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to watch this. What would be the point? She knew what was going to happen anyway.

Which brought Sunset on to the second thing that she had learned in the first few days at Beacon: Jaune Arc sucked at almost everything, and it was making Sunset absolutely furious.

He couldn’t fight; he got his ass handed to him every time he stepped into the arena against absolutely any opponent in Professor Goodwitch’s combat class, as she had no doubt that he was about to prove in a moment as he shuffled onto the stage to face Sky Lark, who was himself no great warrior in the making, in case anybody was wondering. Sunset was not the best fighter in the freshman class – as she had just proved, unfortunately – but she fancied herself to be starting a comfortable mid-tier, a decent place to work up from. But none of the lower-tier mediocrities that Sunset could have vanquished with ease had any difficulty whatsoever in ripping Jaune Arc to shreds.

As Sky Lark demonstrated once they both got up onto the stage and Professor Goodwitch ordered them both to begin. Once again, Jaune rushed forwards, holding his shield all wrong – according to Pyrrha, who was almost cringing at it herself – swinging his sword around like a madman, and while he charged, Sky had reversed his halberd, Feather’s Edge, and shot him twice with the gun in the shaft. Jaune staggered backwards, his sword almost dropping from his grasp, and Sky counterattacked ferociously. He wasn’t great with that halberd, but he was better than Jaune was with his sword and shield, as he first hooked the shield out of Jaune’s hand and then used the greater reach of his weapon to defeat Jaune at his leisure.

The fact that Jaune was an absolutely wretched fighter who could barely hold his sword without chipping away at his own aura might have been forgiven if he’d displayed a brilliant grasp of the academics but no. Jaune was pig ignorant in Modern History and Grimm Studies, his reading comprehension in Legends of Remnant could charitably described as service level, and even the classes that he displayed competence in, like Plant Science and Fieldcraft, were marred by the fact that he spent half the lessons asleep.

Yes, asleep. The fact that Jaune was useless at so many core aspects of the Beacon curriculum might, in itself, have been forgivable if he was applying himself but simply running up against the limits of his ability. Sunset might have not actually forgiven him for this, given how her future was riding on the success of the team, but someone might have found it in their hearts to forgive him regardless. But no, the guy was as lazy as a toad to boot. He went to bed late, having been out every night doing who knew what, he slept through so many classes that Team SAPR had to hide at the back of the lecture hall half the time so that the professors didn’t notice, and he didn’t even do the reading, let alone the essays. Sunset was writing Jaune’s essays for him and hoping that she’d dumbed it down enough – to a B or B minus standard – that it wasn’t immediately obvious what she was doing.

It didn’t help that, in Sunset’s opinion, Ruby and Pyrrha mothered him relentlessly. They offered encouragement when he needed criticism; they smoothed away the hard edges of his failure and inadequacy. He might have been their baby brother instead of their teammate.

Or perhaps they both just had a crush on him.

“Why do you two both coddle him so much?” Sunset demanded on the evening of the first Monday since Initiation, when Jaune was absent from the room. “He’s dead weight, and he’ll drag us all down if we let him.”

“He’s trying his best!” Ruby protested.

“Then his best sucks!” Sunset replied. “I don’t get why he’s even here.”

“Because he wants to be!” Ruby yelled. “Because I bet that this has been his dream as long as he knew what it meant to have a dream. So what if he isn’t a great warrior right now, that’s what we’re here to learn, isn’t it?

“Can he learn?” Sunset demanded. “Pyrrha, back me up on this: he has too far to go, and there isn’t enough time.”

Pyrrha sat on her bed, hands folded in her lap, her head bowed slightly, not looking at either Ruby or Sunset. “I… I’d like to believe that, so long as we’re prepared to put our hearts and souls into working towards our final goals, there are no limits to the destiny that we can achieve.”

“That’s not how destiny works.”

“That’s the destiny that I believe in,” Pyrrha replied firmly. “And I believe in Jaune. I felt his aura when I activated it; he has so much potential, more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

I remember when I had more potential than anyone Celestia had ever met. For all the good it did me, and I was prepared to work hard. And what is his deal, anyway? Just because I couldn’t find anything about the guy… his father must know someone, have pulled some strings, something. No way that Jaune Arc got in under ordinary circumstances. Unfortunately, she’d been too busy trying to cover for his laziness to look any further into him or the mysterious Raven Branwen.

Sunset folded her arms. “Potential is all very well, but he’s not using it.”

“Neither was I,” Ruby said. She hugged her red cloak tight about her as though it were a blanket. “When I started at Signal, I was a mess. I hadn’t discovered my semblance; I couldn’t fight. But my Uncle Qrow… he believed in me. He told me what I needed to hear: that I had my mom’s blood in my veins, and I could become a great huntress, just like her. And because he took me under his wing, here I am: I got into Beacon early because my uncle believed in me, and now, we have to believe in Jaune and help him to be the best he can be.”

Just because you have a dream doesn’t mean it will come true, Sunset thought bitterly. Although… wasn’t that why she was here, in the end? Wasn’t that why she had crossed worlds, left home and hearth and all she knew behind, given up her very physical form and exchanged it for another, why had she done all that except to defy the unfairness of having held onto a dream in her heart for half her life only to be told one day "sorry, kid, it was all for nothing"? She was here to seize her destiny, keyword there being ‘seize’: she would take by force what fate and Celestia had denied to her, raising her fist in anger at its cruel decree. If she could be drawn to Beacon for such a purpose, then why not Jaune Arc too? Perhaps, in the end, she felt a little prick of conscience or a moment of empathy; either way, she scowled and muttered, “Fine. I’ll let it go for now. But… he’d better start to show some improvement, for all our sakes.”

That improvement was nowhere in evidence today, she thought as she watched Jaune descend the stage after his latest defeat. And honestly, Sunset was already starting to lose patience with this particular millstone around their necks.

“And for our last match of the day... Miss Nikos, Mister Winchester, please make your way up onto the stage.”

Sunset took a little visceral satisfaction from the look of fear on Cardin’s face as he got up. Everyone had that look when they got called up to face Pyrrha. Sunset had learned a few things about Pyrrha Nikos this last week and a half, starting with the fact that she was a complete badass. Every combat class with Professor Goodwitch where her name was called gave proof of that, and this lesson was no different as she tossed Cardin Winchester up into the air like a tennis ball then proceeded to leap up after him, grab him by the neck,and piledrive him head first back into the stage so hard that the floor cracked under the impact. And she did it all under her own power, without the aid of any of the glyphs that Weiss had relied on to defeat Sunset in much the same way but with less noticeable effects on their surroundings. Yes, Professor Goodwitch was able to repair the stage again with a wave of her riding crop, but solar-powered Celestia! Sunset was left staring, open-mouthed and secretly feeling a sense of gratitude that their instructor didn’t seem inclined to pit members of the same team against one another.

As Ruby and Jaune cheered, Sunset was silent. Pyrrha wasn’t just good; she was a battlefield force of nature. How was anyone supposed to stand against that? What possible good was it doing for anyone to have her fight in the combat class sparring matches? She couldn’t possibly be learning anything.

How could I last more than a few seconds against her?

Some people might have dismissed the question, but Sunset could not. Just because they were on the same team didn’t mean that their goals aligned, and Sunset had been betrayed too often by those who were much closer to her than Pyrrha Nikos was. And, frankly, Pyrrha was starting to get on her nerves enough that she would almost have wanted to fight her if it hadn’t been for the unavoidable and seemingly unbridgeable gulf that existed between their abilities.

As she watched, Pyrrha offered a hand to help Cardin up to his feet. The big guy refused, picking himself up without aid. Pyrrha looked mildly troubled by his poor sportsmanship, as though it was strange to her that someone who had just been so thoroughly humiliated wouldn’t particularly feel like accepting pity from the victor. In the losing position, Sunset wouldn’t have wanted pity any more than she would have offered it if she’d been the victor.

“Miss Nikos, superlative work as always,” Professor Goodwitch said. Adding to Sunset’s sense that Pyrrha got less than nothing out of this class was the way that the professor never even had anything to comment on in terms of her performance and ways that it could be improved.

Sunset couldn’t be sure if Pyrrha nodded or bowed her head in shame. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Mister Winchester,” Professor Goodwitch continued, “your movements continue to be sloppy and imprecise. You would have given Miss Nikos a much harder time of it had you not left yourself open and off-balance at so many points during the bout.”

Cardin’s face twitched with irritation, but he said nothing.

“And that’s all that we have time for today,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “I’ll see you all next time.”

As Pyrrha made her way off the stage, she was mobbed by admirers congratulating her on her stellar performance. It was always like that when she was around. She really was a genuine, bona-fide celebrity. Wherever she went, there was always at least one person who wanted a picture of her, or a selfie with her, or an autograph from her, or just to pester her for a little bit. A lot of people didn’t like the fact that Team SAPR had gotten ‘special treatment’ in regards to the locker rooms, but even the people who complained most loudly about Sunset and Ruby being set apart, or at Jaune being the only guy allowed to change with them, they all conceded that of course it was right and proper that the great Pyrrha Nikos should get a whole locker room all to herself, a privilege fitting the Invincible Girl, Champion of Mistral.

Pyrrha took it all in stride, reminding Sunset a little of Celestia at times as she dealt, politely but distantly, with the various hangers on that she seemed to pick up like barnacles accruing to the bottom of a ship. But she clearly didn’t like it, that was clear to Sunset from the way that she held herself, from looking into her eyes, from every nonverbal cue that Pyrrha was sending off, and it was driving Sunset up the wall even worse than Jaune’s general uselessness because what in Celestia’s name did Pyrrha Nikos have to be upset about?

Honestly, it was enraging. It was the main reason why Sunset showered and changed as quickly as she could before holing herself up in the library rather than going back to the dorm-room. It felt to her as though if she saw Pyrrha right now, then she was going to scream at the ungrateful little wretch.

Seriously, what did she have to be upset about? She was talented, famous, and beautiful; everybody knew her name, and everybody wanted a piece of her. She was the object of rumour, whisper, and desire, widely-accepted as the most talented student to grace Beacon Academy in years, if not since its foundation. Greatness was predicted for her from every quarter, nobody could wait to see what she would become, and all they wanted was some memento to prove that they had known her in her youth before she became even more famous than she was going to be later. And yet, she had the gall, she had the utter self-centredness to mope about it? To show disquiet, to not love every single moment of it? Why in Tartarus not? Didn’t she realise what Sunset would give to have everything that Pyrrha had?

I did have everything that she had once, and it was stolen away from me, Sunset thought. I’d give my right arm to get it all back again: the fame, the glory, the adulation, and the idolisation. All the things that I want and must struggle to my utmost limits to regain are the things that she has and treats as burdens to be borne with clear reluctance. Little brat. How can she not appreciate all the good things that she has?

It was bad enough that Pyrrha had the nerve to be in possession of all that Sunset desired, bad enough that she was more talented than Sunset, bad enough that the destiny that Sunset was so desperate for had pretty much dropped into her lap like a ripe plum, but she didn’t even like it! It was maddening, and it was especially maddening because there was nothing that Sunset could do except stew in the unfairness of it all and marinate in her resentment at the rank ingratitude that Pyrrha displayed every single moment of her life.

She couldn’t take what Pyrrha had and make it hers; it didn’t work like that. Worse, Sunset would have to work with her and help her gain even more acclaim that she wouldn’t treat with the respect and gravity that it deserved, while Sunset fed off the scraps from her table like a dog. It was unfair. It was monstrously unfair. It was an injustice that cried out to the heavens for redress.

Why should I, who long for the limelight to shine once more upon me, dwell in this detestable ignominy while she stands always in the light of the sun and casts disdainful looks towards it?

Why should she have what I want, when she isn’t even using it properly?

Sunset looked with a frown at the book that sat on the table in front of her. No school textbook this, but the magical journal that she had brought with her from Equestria. It was sitting in front of her because… because, honestly, she had no one else to talk to about this stuff.

No one to talk to but a magic book that a faraway princess would never read.

Sunset didn’t really want Princess Celestia to read it. She didn’t want the princess to come back to Sunset and tell her "I told you so" or "You can come home" or "You should embrace the magic of friendship" or anything else. Sunset just wanted to pour out her thoughts and her resentments before they grew too much for her to hold in. She felt as though she needed to do that before she exploded.

Sunset wanted to bare her soul; she didn’t want her old teacher to examine it.

Or… did she? If she just wanted to keep a journal, then she could keep a journal. Did she want to hear from Celestia again, even in the face of all these years of evidence that Princess Celestia had stopped caring a long time ago?

Did Sunset want to be forgiven?

Did she want to be told that, after everything that had passed between them, her teacher still believed in her?

Sunset didn’t know what she wanted or didn’t want any more. All that she wanted was the destiny that she had been denied.

And to be heard.

Sunset opened the book to the first blank page and began to write. She wrote about Jaune and how annoying it was that Sunset had to do the work of two people because of him. She wrote about Ruby and how she was the only person in this world that Sunset couldn’t think of a bad word to say about and how she, Sunset, had no idea why that should be the case. She wrote about how she had to lead this team, even though she didn’t like them all that much and wasn’t really a team leader kind of person but more of a loner, as though Princess Celestia hadn’t known that well enough already. She wrote about Flash and everything that he had done to her and about WWSR and how awful they all were and how much Sunset hated the whole pack of them.

Most of all, Sunset wrote about Pyrrha: wonderful Pyrrha, talented Pyrrha, destined for greatness Pyrrha, Pyrrha who had everything that Sunset had so longed for… and didn’t even seem to care that she had it.

Sunset poured out her frustrations upon the page, she set down all the thoughts that whirled about her brain… and then, she stopped. She stared at the magical diary for a moment. Nothing happened. No word came from Celestia. No reply for good or ill.

Nothing happened except that Sunset felt a little emptied out of all her troubles, and in the emptying, she felt… actually a little bit better. She actually felt as though she could go to the dorm room and not explode at Pyrrha for the way she was behaving.

Sunset put the journal back in her bag and started to rise from her seat.

The book started to vibrate and glow a soft but vibrant pink colour, which could only mean one thing: someone was replying.

Sunset swallowed. She felt a chill forming in the pit of her stomach, anticipation filling her with dread. Celestia was replying to her. The princess had something to say.

Good or bad, Sunset couldn’t say. She could only fear.

I guess there’s only one way to find out for certain.

Sunset reached gingerly for the book in her bag. She hesitated, and cursed herself for hesitation.

Come on, you can fight monsters but you can’t do this?

The worst the monster could do is kill me. Celestia could disapprove.

She probably does.

Maybe, but you won’t know until you open the stupid book, will you?

Sunset scowled as she screwed her courage to the sticking point, pulled out the book, and opened it.

Um…I don’t mean to be rude, and I’m sure that it took a lot of effort for you to write that, and I don’t mean to make light of it, but…who are you?

Sunset stared at the writing in front of her and blinked. Had… had Celestia forgotten her? Had she forgotten all about Sunset Shimmer, her prize student, her little sunbeam?

I know we kind of left things in a bad way, but I thought she’d at least remember me, even if it wasn’t fondly?

All the time they’d spent together, all the memories they had shared… was nothing worthy of remembrance?

You’ve forgotten me. Sunset wrote in the diary. She was unsure whether to add a question mark at the end or not. It seemed fairly clear that Celestia had, indeed, forgotten. You don’t remember me at all.

Should I? Sorry, I only got this book recently. What’s your name?

She gave the book away, Sunset thought. She gave our book away. The book so that we could keep in touch, and she just… what, did she throw it out? Did you hate me that much? Were you glad to be rid of me in the end?

She wrote with more force than necessary. I’m Sunset Shimmer; who are you, and how did you get this book?

The reply was swift in coming. I was given it by Princess Celestia, as part of a large collection of books. I’m the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle.

Author's Note

I really wanted to bring Twilight into the story in some form because, as I see it, she is the middle-ground between the starting points of Sunset and Pyrrha. Sunset is on one side, disdaining friendship and seeking glory and acclaim. Pyrrha stands on the other end, possessing both and hating that she has them because what she really wants is friendship and human connection. Twilight stands between them, having her cake and eating it as well as she enjoys the perks of being a princess and the company of good friends who love her for who, rather than what, she is.

I did think about having Twilight come to Remnant for some variant of the Equestria Girls plotline, but I couldn't think of a way to make it work, which is why the journal was a godsend from a thematic perspective for involving her in the story from Equestria.

Rewrite Notes: There have been some pretty big changes in the last few chapters, but this is the point at which, up until 'Sunset in Splendour' the changes become quite minor and more to do with touch ups than radical changes. The biggest alteration here being Sunset losing a fight to Weiss.

Pyrrha's Limit (Rewritten)

Pyrrha’s Limit

The book in Sunset's bag vibrated.

Sunset ignored it and tried to concentrate on the book that she was actually reading, a bestiarium of grimm common to Sanus for Professor Port's class. But the journal in her bag just kept on vibrating, humming like a scroll signalling that she had texts and every bit as irritating. It would stop for a bit, and then it would start up again.

Sunset was not hiding. She was simply sitting in a very secluded part of the library where no one else could find her, which was completely different. It had been a day since she blew up at Pyrrha, and somehow, everyone knew that she, a mere faunus, had dared to mouth off to the great Pyrrha Nikos. Sunset was inclined to blame Yang Xiao Long and her team for spreading the word around. Ruby had already admitted to going to talk to Yang about what had happened, and with the way Dove couldn't keep his eyes off her faunus features, Sunset wouldn't put it past him to have set out to ruin her and get revenge for the way that Sunset had beaten him in sparring class.

To say that the reaction to Sunset's behaviour had not been kind to her was an understatement. The whole of Beacon seemed to have taken sides, and they had not sided with Sunset. Today, it had been her turn to be followed by whispers including the words ‘impudent,’ ‘impertinent’ and the ever popular 'who does she think she is?' Sunset had even been asked that to her face at breakfast by Cardin Winchester, who had loomed over her while his henchman Russell hovered nearby.

Sunset was eating alone; she thought it was probably best for everyone, and in any case, there was no requirement for a leader to eat with their subordinates. Celestia didn't dine with her guards after all.

So she ate, in silence and alone, and tried to ignore Cardin's shadow blocking out the light and his obnoxious voice.

Cardin growled. "Hey!" he snapped, pulling on Sunset's tail hard enough to make her wince in pain. "I'm talking to you, pony!"

Sunset looked up at him, a look of cold contempt upon her face. "Don't do that again."

"You should watch your tone, pony."

"I'm sure you'd prefer me to call you sir or boss or master, but I'm afraid that's not going to happen."

"Who do you think you are?" Cardin demanded. "To talk to humans that way, to talk to your betters that way?"

"I'm Sunset Shimmer," Sunset said simply. "I don't have any betters."

Cardin's face twisted into a scowl. "Listen, pony-"

"Call me pony one more time, I dare you."

Cardin was silent for a moment. He stared at her, a smirk disfiguring his features. "Pony."

Sunset smirked, and with a touch of telekinesis, she hurled Cardin clean across the dining hall. He soared across the cafeteria with a cry of alarm, landing on an empty table recently vacated by Team BLBL. The table broke under his impact.

Silence descended over the cafeteria. Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha were all staring at her, Flash had his head in his hands, Yang was grinning, and Russell looked as though he was about to wet himself. Weiss's eyes narrowed as she gazed at Sunset.

Sunset looked around the room, locking gazes with all of those who stared at her, all of these little people who wanted to put a collar on her because they couldn't stand the fact that she dared things they couldn't dream of.

I know you all, Sunset thought. I know you all, and I have your measure too. With a snort of disdain, she turned to stalk from the hall.

"Sunset," Pyrrha called, half-rising from her seat, "I neither intended nor asked for this. I give you my word."

Sunset looked at her. She looked apologetic, but that neither proved nor signified anything. And besides, it didn't really matter whether she had intended it to happen or not. It had happened.

Sunset didn't bother to dignify Pyrrha's mealy-mouthed apology with a response, but turned and walked away without another word.

She left the dining hall and passed into the courtyard, where the fountain babbled away around the statue of the heroic huntsman and huntress. Sunset paused a moment, looking up at the two warriors, and tried to pay no attention to the hostile stares she was getting.

I bet you two wouldn't have bothered saving the world if you'd had to put up with my tribulations.

"Discrimination is a terrible thing. I regret that we cannot make swifter progress in eliminating it from our society," Professor Ozpin said. Sunset turned to see that he had somehow snuck up behind her unnoticed. He leaned upon his cane and sipped cocoa out of a mug bearing the double-axe emblem of Beacon Academy. "That being said, I cannot approve of the employment of unregulated violence against fellow students."

Sunset threw back her head. "You can punish me if you want to, Professor, but you won't make me apologise."

"Hmm," Professor Ozpin murmured. "Miss Shimmer, I won't pretend to understand what you're going through, but will you permit me to give you a piece of advice?"

"If you like, Professor," Sunset said idly. People had tried to give her advice before. Princess Celestia had tried very often. It had never been of as much help to her as they seemed to think it should.

"You have been blessed with the leadership of an extraordinary team, Miss Shimmer. I believe that if you can work together, you can accomplish great things, both here and beyond the walls of this institution. You yourself have the makings of a fine team leader. It would be a terrible shame if so much potential were to go waste over a petty argument."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "You were right, Professor: you don't understand what I'm going through."

With classes done, Sunset had retreated into the library to gain some respite from all of the hostility. She didn't like to think of it as hiding, and she certainly didn't like to think of it as having crumbled, but... look, she was willing to put up with a lot of crap to get what she wanted, but Sunset didn't see that she should have to, especially after going through Canterlot already.

Sunset sat on the floor of the library, with her back to the wall, her body concealed between two tall shelves, and read the bestiarium as she tried to ignore the buzzing of the magical journal in her bag.

"Shut up," Sunset growled at the book.

The journal buzzed again.

Sunset scowled and exhaled loudly. "Fine! Okay, you win." She snapped shut the book of grimm and pulled out the journal. Her name, and variations on 'are you there?' took up most of a page.

What? Sunset scrawled angrily onto the page. She thought it was Princess Twilight Sparkle writing; she thought that she could still have recognised Celestia's writing if her old teacher had deigned to descend from her lofty detachment to speak to Sunset, but to be perfectly honest, she probably would have responded the same way to either of them at this point.

Great, you're here.

It's Twilight Sparkle, isn't it? She wrote, just to confirm who she was speaking to.

Hello again.

What do you want?

What time is it where you are?

Sunset stared at the inane and nonsensical words that had appeared on the page before her. Have you seriously been bugging me all day so that you can find out what time of day it is? Seriously?

No, I want to talk. There was a pause between the first sentence and the next, as though Twilight were pondering what ought to come next. But I would also like to know if our worlds are chronologically in parallel or on some kind of time differential.

Sunset stared at the page. A noise that was one part snort and one part despairing groan escaped her lips. I've been replaced by a nerd. Celestia replaced me with a giant dork. Sadly, that fit with what she knew about the Atlesian Twilight Sparkle, who merited that description all too well.

I am not a dork. I'm intellectually curious.

Sunset smirked, for all that Twilight couldn't see it. Yeah, sure. For what it's worth, I'm intellectually curious too. She took out her scroll long enough to check the time. It's eighteen-hundred.

Okay, it's five in the afternoon where I am.

Where are you?

Ponyville, it's a little town outside of

What time zone?

Canterlot Mean Time.

Sunset checked her scroll again. Where I am now is one hour ahead of the time zone in this world's Canterlot.

So we are in parallel based on the location of the mirror! That is so cool!

Nerd.

Hey.

I never said it was an insult, you have to own what you got. I've always been curious about that myself, but I didn't have any way of checking. Sunset paused, and her pen hovered over the page. Now, what do you really want, and why are you being so persistent about it?

I want to talk.

Why?

Because Princess Celestia told me who you were, and I want to help you.

Sunset's face crumpled into a scowl. I don't need your help.

I disagree.

Oh, you do, do you? What makes you think you know anything about me?

Because you told me a lot about yourself when you didn't know I was there.

Sunset smacked her hand into her face. Yes, she had; of course she had. She cursed under her breath. She'd told Twilight... not everything, but more than enough.

That still doesn't mean you know me. She wrote, not really believing it herself. And besides, you should worry more about yourself than trying to play therapist to me.

What's that supposed to mean?

Do you trust Celestia?

Of course.

Don't. She lies, she uses ponies, manipulates them to get what she wants. She used me

Let me stop you right there before you waste any more effort. This isn't going to work.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. I don't know what you mean.

Yes, you do. And it won't work. I trust Princess Celestia completely.

So did I, once, Sunset thought. She scribbled in the diary. You're a fool then. You're a fool, and you're just a replacement me! You'll only ever be Celestia's second choice, and you'll never have the kind of connection that we had! Sunset believed that. Sunset had to believe that for the sake of her sanity and her self-respect. Bad enough that she could be replaced at all, but to be replaced in Celestia's love, in the heart of her affections... it would be too much. Her heart would not withstand it.

Celestia asked me to tell you that she's sorry, for everything she said and didn't say.

Is she too good to write to me herself?

I think that talking to you is something that I have to do.

Because you're the Princess of Friendship?

You know, I can feel the contempt dripping off your pen, but yes, because I am the princess of friendship.

If you live where I do, then you'd think it was stupid too. Almost as bad as the princess of love.

You knew Cadence?

I did. It's no surprise to me that you knew her too. Is she married to your brother?

Yes, but how could you possibly know that?

My guesses are very good and usually right. Sunset smirked as an idea came to her. Yes, this will mess with her head a little bit. For instance, you have five friends: Pinkie Pie, who is annoying; Rarity, who is stuck up and prissy; Applejack, who has no defining qualities; Fluttershy, who is a coward; and Rainbow Dash, who thinks she’s absolutely marvellous.

Twilight took a moment to respond.It is uncanny that you know their names - although I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for it that you’re keeping to yourself for unscrupulous reasons - but you’re absolutely wrong about everything else. Pinkie isn’t annoying; she’s the sweetest pony I’ve ever met, and she tries every day to make the world a happier place; Rarity is generous to a fault and will always go the extra mile to help others; Applejack has a strong back and a strong heart to match, you can alway rely on her to help you in a pinch; Fluttershy is mild and gentle, but her courageous spirit always shows through in an emergency; and as for Rainbow Dash, if I was in trouble, there’s nobody I’d rather have by my side.

Sunset huffed. I feel like those are matters of differing interpretation rather than incorrect facts. How do you become a princess of friendship anyway?

Well, it's kind of a funny story, but the short version is that I completed Starswirl the Bearded's unfinished spell and

You what?

It was on my second try.

Sunset stared at the book. Twilight had completed Starswirl's spell? It didn't matter that Sunset couldn't see what that had to do with friendship, because it was... as much as Sunset might not like to admit it, it was impressive stuff. Sunset... it was like pulling teeth from her mind to concede this, but she wasn't sure that she would have been able to do that. Sunset had been hailed as the most gifted unicorn since Starswirl, but Twight Sparkle... might be better.

Just admitting that filled Sunset with resentment, but also with a kind of curiosity that prevented her from simply slamming the book shut. If Twilight had been here in Remnant, then Sunset would have despaired of yet more talented rivals, but Twilight was in Equestria, the land Sunset had left behind. She could not impede Sunset's chances here.

And Sunset had been starved not only of the company of other Equestrians but also of an intellectual equal. And in truth, it was... flattering, to be sought out thus by someone of Twilight Sparkle's position and status, to be thought sufficiently important to be worth whatever it was that Twilight sought to accomplish. After years of being dismissed and trampled on, it was like rain upon parched flowers.

And, who knew? Twilight might not prove so immune to Sunset's corruptions as she believed.

I concede, you interest me, Twilight Sparkle. We should talk again. But when I choose, not you. Don't contact me again, I'll write you when it's safe to do so.

Agreed.

Sunset smiled. At present, she would take whatever power she could get in their relationship Good. Then it's settled. Goodbye for now, Princess. She shut the book, with just a little more force than strictly necessary.

Pyrrha Nikos did not consider herself a short-tempered individual. Quite the opposite, in fact; she strove to be patient to a fault, as meek and mild as any gentle dove. She was not unconscious of the fact that she had been born to great wealth, to what was still in Mistral considered noble birth, that she had been immensely privileged in her life and upbringing; it behooved her in consequence to act with grace and kindness, qualities which she ventured to say suited her natural inclinations better in any case.

She was a Nikos. The hopes of Mistral rested on her shoulders, or so they said, even if they said so more in flattery than truth. No one wanted to see their idol do anything but smile. At the publicity events and the fan expos, at the parties of the great and good, Pyrrha had trained herself – and been trained by her mother – to stand silent, a smiling statue or a doll, to present if not pleasure then at least a calm serenity pleasing to the eye of others. She could put on a calm face as the world passed by around her, seeing her but not understanding her, vaunting her image and caring nothing for the soul beneath. With all due modesty, she was almost as calm as she pretended to be almost constantly for the world. It was generally melancholy and nothing stronger that touched her like a sudden frost upon a rose.

All of which was to concede it was quite an achievement on the part of Sunset Shimmer that she was managing to fray Pyrrha's nerves the way she was.

It wasn't just that she had gotten a stronger reaction out of Pyrrha than any other hand in quite some time. It wasn't even what she'd said to get that reaction, ignorant and pig-headed though Sunset's words had been. It was the fact that Sunset wouldn't let it go. It was as though she was constitutionally incapable of admitting that she was wrong, even if she could only assert that she was correct with no proof at all.

It was rather disappointing that her team leader was turning out to be as loud-mouthed and boorish in her own way as Cardin Winchester, but Pyrrha had not intended for word of their argument to spread all around the school like this. She hadn't appealed for gallant knights to defend her from the ogreish Sunset. She certainly hadn't asked anyone to steal one of Sunset's tops from the laundry room and use it for something absolutely disgusting, but when Sunset had stormed into the dorm room brandishing her top with that sticky white stain upon it, there could be no doubt whom she held responsible.

Pyrrha was getting a little tired of it. She had come to Beacon to escape her pedestal, but leaving aside the fact that she had largely failed to do so, she hadn't come here in order to be sneered at, glared at, muttered about, or generally blamed for things that were not her fault.

The atmosphere in the dorm room tonight, for example, was terrible. Sunset seemed to have a dark cloud hovering around her shoulders blacker than her jacket. It felt as though she had turned the floor to glass, and the slightest thing would set her off again.

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. It wasn't fair, the way that Sunset was behaving. It wasn't fair on her, and it wasn't fair on Ruby or Jaune either, both of whom looked as though they had been dropped into the middle of a minefield with no map of the way out, if such a thing existed.

Pyrrha put her Legends of Remnant homework to one side and cleared her throat. "Sunset?"

Sunset ignored her. She was acting as though she was working, but considering that Sunset got better grades than Pyrrha did, Pyrrha couldn't believe that Sunset was actually still doing Doctor Oobleck's essay. She was just behaving childishly by ignoring Pyrrha.

"Sunset," Pyrrha repeated, louder and a little more firmly this time. Ruby and Jaune both looked up and towards her.

Sunset sighed. "What?" she demanded.

"Would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?" Pyrrha asked. "We can talk without disturbing Ruby and Jaune."

Sunset stared at her for a moment, with a face like stone. "I have nothing to say." She turned her back ostentatiously.

"Sunset, please," Pyrrha urged her.

"Just because I am a faunus, does not mean that you may bend me to your will," Sunset declared. "I have said no!"

"No one in this room has a problem with you being a faunus," Pyrrha replied. "My problem is wholly with your conduct of late."

"Sunset," Ruby said, "Pyrrha didn't mean for any of this to happen. I don't know who decided to spread the word like this, but I didn't mean it! None of us did, and Pyrrha especially."

Sunset's lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. "So you expect me to believe... what? That, completely unprompted, the entire academy decided to rise up in your defence?"

"That is the truth, as far as I know," Pyrrha replied softly.

Sunset snorted. "I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Pyrrha demanded, shock evident in her tone.

Sunset sneered. "I'm sorry, did I offend your Mistralian honour?"

"As a matter of fact, you did," Pyrrha replied, her voice brittle. "And common courtesy besides."

"Too bad for you this isn't Mistral," Sunset said.

"Nor is it Atlas," Pyrrha declared, "and I am not a robot to obey commands without a care for how I am regarded by she who seeks to give them. When… when you are ready to apologise, I will listen."

"You'll wait a long time," Sunset growled, "for I have nothing to apologise for."

Pyrrha said nothing further to Sunset. There was nothing further to be said. She glanced apologetically at Jaune and Ruby. "Excuse me," she said, as she strode out of the room.

She spent the rest of the evening in the library, returning to the dorm only to sleep; she and Sunset said not a word to one another as they undressed for bed, and the atmosphere in the room was nauseating.

The next morning, Pyrrha went to see Professor Goodwitch and asked her about team reassignments.

Professor Goodwitch stared at her over the top of her spectacles. "May I ask why you wish to be moved, Miss Nikos?"

"I... I'm afraid that Sunset and I have had an irreconcilable difference of opinion, Professor."

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. "Teams, once formed, are very rarely altered, Miss Nikos, and certainly not because of mere arguments between members."

"There's nothing mere about this, ma'am," Pyrrha replied. She would not fight for a leader she held in contempt. For her destiny, she was willing to endure much, bear much, suffer much, but not follow someone who despised her and thought her capable of such behaviour as Sunset had accused her of.

But it was hard to explain that to Professor Goodwitch, or to anyone really, without sounding melodramatic. Sunset had been right about that, at least: Mistralian concepts of honour did not carry quite the same weight in the Kingdom of Vale.

"That, Miss Nikos, remains to be seen, by me," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Good day, Miss Nikos."

"Professor, I apologise for disturbing you," Pyrrha said, as she bowed her head respectfully. She turned on her heel, and walked out of the office.

Unfortunately, Ruby was waiting for her outside.

"You wanted to leave us?" Ruby asked, looking as stricken and betrayed as she sounded.

Pyrrha winced. "No, Ruby, I-"

"She wasn't trying to leave," Sunset sneered, and Pyrrha saw her half-hidden around the corner. She was leaning against the wall with her arms folded. "She was trying to get rid of me, weren't you?"

Pyrrha didn't dignify that with a response. She turned away without another word and walked away.

Professor Goodwitch's voice was crisp and clear, cutting across the casual chatter in the amphitheatre. "The match will be Team Sapphire versus Team Iron. Please make your way to the arena."

Pyrrha was on her feet at once, making her way quickly up onto the stage. Ruby and Jaune followed, and Sunset joined them from a different part of the hall.

Sunset could see their opponents making their way up onto the stage together. They were huddled close, whispering amongst themselves. Yang Xiao-Long, easily identified by her hair shining like a beacon in the dimly lit space, was pointing at Team SAPR, gesticulating with one hand.

Sunset ran through the options in her head. Team YRDN was tough; in fact they probably had the most punch of any of the first year teams, possessing the two strongest first years and Dove Bronzewing, who was probably the strongest boy in the year. On the other hand, when it came to speed they only had Lie Ren, and he wasn't anywhere close to Ruby or Pyrrha. So, she would send Pyrrha forward to interrupt whatever strategy they where cooking up over there, while Sunset and Ruby provided covering fire. Once they'd used up their shots, Ruby would back up Pyrrha in close quarters while Sunset provided support with magic. Jaune she would use as a speed bump to keep either Yang or Nora just for a bit with his absurd quantities of aura. That should give Pyrrha and Ruby time to mop up the rest of the opposition with Sunset's help.

"Okay," Sunset said. "Here's what we're going to do."

Pyrrha frowned, and took a step forward away from Sunset.

"Oh, great, real mature," Sunset muttered. "Pyrrha!"

“If you have no regard for me,” Pyrrha declared, in a withering tone. “Then why should I have any regard for you?”

"Guys, I have an idea-" Jaune began.

“Because I’m your leader!” Sunset snapped. “So you look at me when I’m talking to you and you pay attention!”

Jaune said, "I was thinking that-"

"Jaune's trying to say something,” Ruby added helpfully.

Sunset paid neither of them any mind. In her wrath, her attention was wholly focussed upon Pyrrha. "You are the most spoiled, ungrateful, stubborn brat that I have-"

"Guys!" Jaune yelled. "Listen, we-"

"Begin!" Professor Goodwitch declared.

Nora Valkyrie grinned, and with a mighty swing she... hit Yang with her hammer?

Sunset gaped in astonishment. She was still gaping, her amazement only deepening as it became clear that this had been absolutely deliberate.

Yang descended like a comet from the heavens, trailing fire in her wake. She was grinning like a maniac, and a wild warrior's laugh issued from her lips as she ploughed into Jaune, bearing him backwards with a squawk of pained alarm. Yang yelled as she started to pummel him, both fists flying as explosions issued from her gauntlets. Jaune, staggered, taken by surprise and, honestly, no great shakes to begin with, was unable to do more than soak it up as his aura level started to slowly descend.

Thank you for accommodating my plan, Yang. Sunset grinned. YRDN had taken the initiative but there was still all to fight for. "Pyrrha, get up there and hit them! Ruby-"

They both ignored her, choosing to go to Jaune's aid instead. They converged on Yang from opposite directions, scythe and sword alike shining under the spotlights focussed on the stage.

It might not have been so bad except Ruby was also blocking Sunset's shots.

A grenade flew through the air, trailing pink smoke behind it, before landing in front of Ruby and exploding in a blast of even more pink. Ruby was knocked backwards, her aura dropping but remaining in the green even as she was tossed across the stage.

The next moment Ren was on top of her, Stormflowers blazing.

Nora fired another grenade, this time at Pyrrha, who deftly knocked it aside with her shield; in the time it took her to do that Nora had already begun to charge, hammer drawn back for a mighty swing. She, too, was beaming wildly as though this was the most fun she'd ever had in her life.

A series of sharp bangs reminded Sunset that she wasn't a bystander in this fight. Dove had levelled his gunblade at her and was firing a stream of shots in her direction. Sunset threw up a shield, too late to stop the first few rounds biting off a chunk of her aura.

Dove stopped shooting when it became clear that his shots weren't getting through her shield. He regarded her warily.

Sunset, on the other hand, regarded him with contempt. Sure, he was probably the best boy but she’d already beaten him once and she’d-

"Dove!" Nora yelled.

Dove and Sunset both looked around. Nora was struggling against Pyrrha's superior speed, unable to land the solid hits she needed even as Pyrrha tore off chunks of her aura like a beowolf tearing off chunks of flesh. Pyrrha really was somewhere between magnificent and uncanny; even when Nora appeared to have her dead to rights she just seemed to avoid the hits.

Dove didn't spare Sunset a second glance as he ran to her aid.

It took Sunset a split second to decide not to follow. Instead, she crossed the short distance to where Ren was trying to handle Ruby with limited success. His aura was in the yellow already, and albeit Ruby's was too, but Ren didn’t have the excuse of having been hit with a grenade. Ruby flitted around him in rose petals bursts, the sharp crack Crescent Rose echoing in the hall.

Sunset took a more direct approach: she closed the distance with Ren, shot him twice at point blank range, and swung the butt of Sol Invictus at his face.

"Ruby, help Jaune!" Sunset yelled before the blow connected. At least Ruby listened to her this time.

Ren rolled with the blow, and as he rolled he grabbed the butt of Sunset's gun and used it to pull her forward, throwing her to the ground before him with a yelp. Sunset winced as Ren shot her in the face, chipping rapidly away at her aura. Sunset growled as she raised one hand and a blast of green energy erupted from her palm, striking Ren in the chest and hurling him back across the stage. A buzzer sounded, and then another. A glance at the board told Sunset that Jaune and Ren were both out. Dove was duelling Pyrrha, their blades clashing furiously in motions faster than Sunset's eyes could follow. Dove was almost fast enough to keep up with the Invincible Girl... but almost didn't quite cut it and his aura was dropping as Pyrrha chipped away at it. Ruby was having less luck against Yang while Nora... Nora was charging straight towards Sunset with absolute murder in her eyes.

Sunset shot from the hip, emptying all four remaining chambers in quick succession. It didn't stop Nora, and Sunset couldn't check the board to see how much aura she had left. Sunset started to raise a shield, but Nora's hammer went through it like glass and struck Sunset square on the midriff.

Sunset had a feeling of being compressed and deformed as the world whirled around her, before she was dumped on the floor with a painful smack on the face. A buzzer confirmed what she already knew: her aura was in the red.

Sunset didn't know exactly what was up with Ruby: either Yang knew her moves too well, or it was messing with her head to try and fight her big sister, but either way a fight that should have been easy for her was going very badly. It wasn't long before she was eliminated.

It was three against one at that point, but that one was Pyrrha Nikos. Perhaps if they'd all been starting with their aura intact they would have been a match for her, but all their auras were some level of frayed and yellow, while hers was nearly intact. Though the three remaining members of YRDN attacked together, though they were coordinated and cohesive, they simply weren't a match for Pyrrha's speed and shining sword. One by one she took them down and left them prone and beaten at her feet.

"Team Sapphire wins," Professor Goodwitch's tone was, as always, professional and without even the suggestion of favouritism, but she didn't sound particularly pleased with the result. Sunset could understand why: this wasn't a victory for Team Sapphire, who by all measures had been out thought and out fought, but for Pyrrha Nikos. Team YRDN deserved the victory, and had missed only by dint of having the bad luck to go up against the Princess Without a Crown.

Sunset's face burned with humiliation as she lined up alongside her team mates. If she'd just been given a chance to explain her plan then they could have won in a deserving fashion. As it was, today would simply serve to burnish up the legend of Pyrrha, the legend that she didn't even want.

"Team Iron," Goodwitch said. "Although I wouldn't personally recommend your choice of opening gambit-" Yang and Nora both grinned, the former sheepishly and the latter unapologetically. "You exhibited forethought and teamwork. That said, by leaving your strongest opponent to last you ran the risk of not having enough aura left, as proved to be the case. Team Sapphire," Goodwitch's stern gaze swept over them. "You were fortunate."

Sunset's jaw clenched with frustration.

"That's all we have time for," Goodwitch continued. "Class dismissed.

Sunset felt almost as though she was getting a divorce, and she and Pyrrha were stuck sharing the house while they worked out custody of the kids: their over-achieving daughter and disappointing son.

They had managed, without saying a word to one another, to work out a system of alternating who could spend time in the dorm room and who had to find somewhere else to be. Nights were about as fun all around as root canal surgery, but there was no getting around it, since there was nowhere else that either of them could sleep.

You could try apologising and putting this whole thing behind you.

Sunset made a face at the diary, open on the table in front of her, which contained elements of scowl, sneer, grimace and snarl. I've done nothing that I should apologise for.

You called Pyrrha a liar.

Because she lied to me!

What if she didn't?

I'm the victim here! Whose side are you on anyway?

Sunset, I don't doubt that a lot of what you've told me about the world you've found yourself in is accurate

Only a lot?

But have you ever considered that your problems are not entirely the result of prejudice?

Sunset squinted suspiciously down at the page. What are you saying?

That even by your own account, you've behaved pretty obnoxiously.

Sunset stared down at the words. They were wrong. They were ridiculous. They were absurd. She wasn't the one who had roused the whole academy in anger, she wasn't the one who had tried to get the team arrangements altered, she wasn't the one who had flaunted her ungrateful nature in Sunset's face.

Shut up. Do you not see where I am coming from with this? How would you like it if someone else had something that you wanted badly, desperately, more than anything else in the world, and this other person that has this incredible thing didn't appreciate it at all? Wouldn't that make you so mad?

Maybe, although when my friend Rarity was in a similar position, she did her best to be a good and supportive friend to Fluttershy in spite of her jealousy.

Pyrrha isn't my friend, so why should I be supportive?

Because she's done nothing wrong. This is your problem, not hers.

And we're done. I'm not going to sit here and be insulted like that. Goodnight, Princess. Sunset slammed the book shut.

She was wrong. Princess Twilight Sparkle was absolutely wrong. This wasn't her problem, she was reacting perfectly normally; it was Pyrrha who... Pyrrha was the one who ought to apologise. Sunset had nothing to apologise for.

Sunset was too proud to apologise, even if she was in the wrong.

Especially if she was in the wrong.

Sunset had been surprised by the lack of anyone else on the way to Leadership class, and she was even more surprised to walk into the lecture theatre to find that it was completely empty, save for herself and Professor Goodwitch, who was waiting there for her.

"I informed the other team leaders that this class had been cancelled, Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch explained. "I thought that you might prefer a private talk to the embarrassment of being lectured in front of your peers."

Sunset felt her face start to burn with embarrassment regardless. "I have to say, Professor, the fact that I'm the only one you think needs instructing in leadership is embarrassing enough."

"And yet I would hope that you retain enough self-awareness to recognise why you are here," Professor Goodwitch said. "Your fellow team leaders are, as yet, far from perfect, but at the same time, none of them has had a member of their team come to me requesting reassignment."

"That's not my fault, Professor."

"Miss Nikos seems to feel otherwise."

Sunset's jaw clenched. Her ears flattened down on top of her head. "I am not the monster here, Professor."

"No one has called you a monster, Miss Shimmer."

"I have suffered worse than Pyrrha Nikos could dream of," Sunset declared. "If she had to live in my boots for a week, that haughty, fragile spirit of hers would snap in two! Yet because I am a faunus, I must bear it all, shames and slights and calumnies heaped upon my head as high as the mountains that border on this kingdom!" Her tail curled upwards on itself, as if she was seeking to hide it from the eyes of men. "And yet, the moment I say to Pyrrha Nikos that she lies, I so offend the character of this great child of honour, this most vaunted champion, that I have done so foul offence that only abasement on my knees may wash it out. No! No, Professor, I will not bear it, it is not just."

"No one is asking you to get on your knees, Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch observed mildly. "Only to apologise for words which hurt your teammate."

"Why?" Sunset demanded. "Once more, Professor, I ask you why I should apologise for milder words than many levelled against me?"

"And once more I ask you, Miss Shimmer, as I did in your first lesson with me, why should your teammates obey you?"

"Because I am their leader," Sunset said at once, "I was chosen and appointed to lead them."

"But these are not Atlesian robots; Miss Shimmer, they are young men and women," Professor Goodwitch reminded her. "They have their faults and foibles, their limits of what they can and will tolerate. Strange as it may seem from the outside, nevertheless, a good leader must know the people who serve beneath her: what motivates them and what holds them back. A good leader must learn to work with the natures of their teammates, not attempt to ride roughshod over them."

"Why must I sacrifice my pride for the sake of hers?" Sunset demanded.

"Because you are the leader, Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch said mildly. "And leadership is about far more than giving orders and taking credit. Consider this. Those who, to use your own words, heaped all those shames and slights and calumnies upon you, if one of them had been made your leader, would you follow them?"

I know how to lead, I've seen it done.

Even if I haven't exactly been leading as I saw the princess lead.

"Your team has already demonstrated that it can work well together," Professor Goodwitch continued, "and you have demonstrated that you can behave as a leader ought. It would be a shame to waste a promising start as a result of words spoken in anger."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Is that all, Professor?"

Goodwitch stared into Sunset's eyes. "That's all for now, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset turned away. Professor Goodwitch meant well, but she didn't understand. Sunset couldn't apologise, not even if it was her fault.

Especially if it was her fault.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: A few changes this time, starting with the change of chapter name.

Heart to Heart (Rewritten)

Heart to Heart

Nora Valkyrie was a fount of stories. Any meal or evening that was lacking in sufficiently lively conversation would be enlivened by a story from Nora to hold the world - or at least Yang, and Ruby and Jaune whenever they were around to listen - in rapture. There were tales of battling grimm in isolated forests, of following rivers through perilous wilderness, of hustling pool and cheating at cards in frontier towns, of taking on odd and hazardous jobs in embattled rural villages. So many stories, and all so well told.

Judging by the way that Ren was a fount of corrections to all of Nora's stories, it was clear to Yang that these incidents had not all happened precisely as Nora told them, but at the same time, Ren never outright called Nora a liar either, so something like all of these stories must have happened to the pair. Which was pretty amazing, really; they were only Yang's age, and yet, they'd already gone so far and done so much. It was Yang's ambition to travel the world when she got older, but Nora and Ren had already seen so much of the world before even arriving at Beacon. And yet, at the same time, if you thought about it too much, it was really kind of sad too. Nora never mentioned her parents or how she and Ren met; her stories always began with the two of them travelling together and ended the same way, like an episodic series with no beginning and no planned end. But it wasn't hard to guess what had happened, although Yang had no intention of asking for confirmation.

It was a little humbling to imagine. She'd thought that she'd had it bad having to take care of Ruby after Mom died and Dad sunk into grief, but having to do it without Dad, without a home, without any place to go... Yang didn't know if she could have kept herself alive in that kind of situation, let alone Ruby.

It was the kind of life she'd been setting herself up for with her obsession with Raven, once upon a time…

But she was older now, stronger and wiser… she just needed to know that Ruby would be safe and cared for when she left.

Which would be a lot easier if Ruby's team wasn't disintegrating around her ears.

And I hoped that Sunset might be someone I could trust with her. She seemed to care… even if she didn’t want to admit it.

Yang realised that, in her thoughts, she had lost track of Nora's latest story, which involved a lost temple and a whole bunch of beringels - creeps, according to Ren - who lived there and… something about a gem in an idol? If she'd been paying attention, she would have had the context, but it didn't really matter because Nora was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Coming," Yang called as she leapt off the bed and crossed the floor in three brisk strides. She opened the door to find Ruby on the other side, head bowed and pressing her fingers nervously together.

"Hey, Yang," Ruby murmured. "Can I come in? That is, if you're not too busy or anything?"

Yang smiled with quasi-maternal fondness down upon her little sister. "I'm never too busy for you, Rubes. Come on in."

She put an arm round Ruby's shoulders and steered her into the dorm and towards Yang's bed.

"Heya, Ruby!" Nora called, waving from the far end of the room. "Great fight today, huh?"

"Yeah," Ruby agreed nervously. "You guys were really unlucky."

"You win some; you lose some," Nora said.

"You lose when you fight Nikos, anyway," Dove declared.

Ren finished cleaning his StormFlowers and began reassembling them. "You fought very well also, Ruby. You had me completely outclassed."

"Yeah!" Yang cried, slapping Ruby on the back. "If I didn't know you so well, you would have torn me apart, so don't sweat it."

"Right," Ruby agreed, though it was clear by her subdued tone that she hadn't been cheered up by this.

"Sit down, Sis," Yang said, gesturing to the bed. "I'll get you some hot chocolate." It was too late for coffee; Ruby wouldn't sleep, and it was nearly bed-time.

"Okay," Ruby said meekly as she sat down.

It didn't take Yang long to get back from the kitchenette, but when she did, she found that Nora - and Ren - had started her story again. Ruby's eyes were wide, and her mouth was agape as she leaned forwards, hands balled up under her chin, her whole body enraptured by Nora's tale of daring against the odds.

Yang stood in the doorway, watching, not wanting to disturb Ruby's pleasure by dragging her back to the issue at hand. She waited for a lull in the story to carry the steaming mugs across the room and press one of them - topped with whipped cream and marshmallows - into Ruby's hands. Yang smiled gratefully at Nora as she sat down beside Ruby and waited for her to say something.

Ruby sipped her hot chocolate and licked the cream around her mouth. "What am I supposed to do, Yang? It was bad enough when Sunset was mad at Pyrrha, but now, Pyrrha's mad right back at Sunset, and they won't even speak to each other!"

Yang nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, it sure is a pity someone had to spread the word of what was going on in your team across the whole of Beacon isn't it, Dove?"

Dove yelped. "I, uh, that is-"

"That was you!" Ruby cried.

Yang was almost certain that it was not, in fact, Dove; she suspected the gossip of being either Lyra or Bon Bon – or both of them; she wouldn't claim to know them that well – but Dove had taken the blame for it to protect them. It was gallant of him, she supposed, but it still didn't sit right with her.

And yet, when he shrugged apologetically and said, "What can I say? I'm an incurable gossip." She didn't contradict him. After all, accusing other people of being barefaced liars was how this whole mess had gotten started.

"But don't worry," she said to Ruby. "We've cured Dove of his incurable condition, and things that you say in this room are going to stay private from now on, right?" Mostly because I've banned Lyra and Bon Bon, and he'll have to go to their room to hang out in the future.

"I can keep my mouth shut," Dove said quickly.

"Correct answer," Yang said cheerily. "I really am sorry about this, Sis; it made a bad situation worse for you."

"But what am I supposed to do now?" Ruby asked. "I mean… I understand weapons, not people! If one of their weapons had a fault, I could fix it or just help Sunset or Pyrrha to fix it, but it's Sunset and Pyrrha that are broken! How am I supposed to fix them? Where do I even start?"

Yang had a couple of ideas, but they weren't notions that she would be able to just hand over to Ruby for her weapon-obsessed, slightly antisocial sister to put into practice. Yang looked down at Ruby, and for a moment, she saw not the fifteen-year-old badass who had already defeated the notorious criminal Roman Torchwick, but the little toddler in the back of a wagon on a cold day.

Ruby was in trouble, and it was up to her big sister to fix it, just like she'd promised that she always would.

"Don't worry about it," Yang said. "I'll talk to Sunset and… hey, Nora, can you have a word with Pyrrha?"

"Absolutely!" Nora agreed eagerly.

"Uh, Yang?" Ruby murmured. "Are you sure that-?"

"Don't worry; Nora's only crazy in battle," Yang reassured her. "Out of it, she really gets people." She pulled Ruby into a hug. "Don't worry, Rubes; I promise I'm going to make everything better for you."

The next day found Pyrrha in the library, researching for her Plant Science homework. The essay was due in a couple of days' time, and while she had the bulk of it written to an acceptable standard, she was here researching anything that she might be able to slot in before the conclusion for extra credit.

She needed to get high grades in the midterms if she didn't want to get an irate call from her mother, after all, and she genuinely enjoyed the subject, even in a purely theoretical form.

It would have been easier to concentrate if people had not been whispering about her from the shelves behind where she was sitting.

Pyrrha frowned. Whatever Sunset might think, she wasn't enjoying the current state of affairs any more than her team leader was. Now, in addition to the usual expressions of awe and desires for mementos and favours that she had had to bear for many years now, she was also being offered sympathy, which was more novel but no less unwelcome to her. She didn't want complete strangers to come up to her and tell her how sorry they were for what she had to deal with any more than she wanted to be told what an honour it was to meet her.

None of these people knew what had started the fight with Sunset, or else they wouldn't have been in such a hurry to press their unwanted condolences upon her as a new way of inserting themselves into her life and claiming a part of her for themselves. Pyrrha strongly suspected that when these well-wishers talked of her troubles, what they really meant was "having to live with a faunus, and be led by one."

It made Pyrrha uncomfortable, truth to tell. She wouldn't be so bold as to call herself a faunus ally, but she wasn't a bigot either. It galled her to be used as a cause célèbre for bigots like Cardin as though she were one of those poor girls killed by faunus who had their memories appropriated by the worst elements of the press.

The fact that she was being used in exactly such a fashion was enough to make her consider apologising to Sunset, if only to put a stop to this nonsense. However, Pyrrha had an uncomfortable feeling that Sunset would take any apology from her as a kind of vindication, one that she was not willing to give the other girl. She could see the smug, slightly sneering smile already in her mind's eye, and she had no desire to see it in real life too.

Not yet, at least. If things went much further, she might have to swallow her pride, much as she did not wish to. The alternative would be to perpetuate injustice to an unforgivable extent.

Pyrrha raised her head. The whispering that she could hear from the shelves behind her desk had stopped. She had been left alone it seemed. Finally, she thought with a quiet sigh of relief.

"You'd be amazed at how fast people can run once you point a grenade launcher at them," Nora Valkyrie declared cheerfully as she sat down at Pyrrha's table, propping her weapon - now in hammer form - up beside her. "I mean, you'd think they'd never heard of aura!"

Pyrrha stared at Miss Valkyrie, unsure of what she ought to say in reply. It was terrible; she ate with this girl every day, and yet now that they were alone, Pyrrha found that she didn't know her at all. All she could recall was that Nora told some wild stories and was very close to her partner. There was nothing else.

She had come to Beacon hoping to make friends, but she could not say that she had put all the effort into it that she might have done. She could have reached out to people like Nora if she'd only thought to, if she'd only known how. Not for the first time, Pyrrha wished that socialising came with a guide to follow.

Nevertheless, she needed to say something or Nora would think she was rude. "Did you, um, really threaten someone with your grenade launcher?"

"Only the ones who deserved it, spying on you like that," Nora said. "You didn't want them around, did you?"

"Oh, no," Pyrrha murmured. "I just… perhaps they didn't want any of the books to suffer damage. Some of them are quite old."

"I guess that must be it. The alternative is that all those trainee huntsmen were a bunch of cowards, and that's terrifying!" Nora cried, with more humour in her tone than fear. She paused. Nora folded her arms. "So, you don't like being famous, huh?

Pyrrha blinked. Where had… of course. "Ruby told you, didn't she?"

"She tried to," Nora said. She produced a bag of chips from somewhere and popped one into her mouth before offering the bag to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha waved it away. "Thank you, but I don't think we're supposed to eat in the library."

Nora ate another chip, but this time, she chewed quietly.

"Like I was saying," she said with her mouth full. She swallowed, and then carried on speaking. "Ruby tried to explain it, but I don't think she got all of the details. Point is, you don't like being famous?"

Pyrrha frowned. "No," she said. "I can't say that I do."

"Do you get hand cramps from the autographs?"

"No, it's not that."

"Does your voice wear out from talking to so many people?"

"I get a slightly sore throat sometimes, but no."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem… the problem is that I feel as though I've spent my entire life being what other people want me to be: a great fighter, a tournament champion, a symbol. I've never been allowed to be myself or even to find out who I am, let alone do any of the things that ordinary girls take for granted."

"Like what?"

Pyrrha paused. "I… I don't really know, that's how bad it is. I don't know what it is that I missed because I missed all of it. I just know that there must have been more to life than training and fighting and press appearances."

Nora leaned back in her chair. "I really wish that I could help you, Pyrrha, only I missed out on all that stuff too."

Pyrrha bowed her head. She didn't have to be particularly intelligent to work out why Nora had been denied an ordinary childhood; you just had to pay attention to her stories. "Are you telling me that I should get over myself, because I had it so much better than you?"

Nora snorted derisively. "No," she said with what seemed to Pyrrha to be absolute sincerity. "I'm saying we should start a club together! We'll find out all the girl stuff we missed and do it now. We should have slumber parties!"

Pyrrha couldn't help but laugh at that, even if - out of respect for the sanctity of the library - she kept it to a low chuckle. "That would be a lot of fun, I'm sure."

Nora grinned, if only for a moment. "But, you know, I get it. I mean, I didn't know who you were because we didn't have TV - or a house to put one in - but the point is it must suck to have everyone think they know who you are… and to not have any friends… if I hadn't had Ren, I don't know what I would have become. What Sunset said wasn't right."

"No," Pyrrha said. "Although, as boorish and upsetting as it was… that wasn't the last straw."

Nora cocked her to one side like a curious bird.

"It was when she accused me of having orchestrated this whole business, even after I denied it," Pyrrha said. "She called me a liar to my face."

Nora stared at her, a look on her face that suggested she was struggling to keep something bottled up. Then she cracked up. "Really? That's what you're upset about?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Is that wrong?"

"I didn't have a normal childhood either," Nora said, "but even I know it's normal to get called a liar, especially by people who don't like you very much."

"Really?"

"Yes!" Nora yelled. "How do you think people used to react to my stories - you're a great audience, by the way - they told me to stop making things up! That's what upset you?"

Pyrrha looked down at the table, at her hands and the book on botany that lay open before her. If Nora was right - and Pyrrha had no reason to believe that she was not - then she'd been very foolish and behaved very badly.

Sunset is right; this is not Mistral. I should have borne that closer to the forefront of my mind.

Sunset had too, of course, but all the same...

"So, what Sunset said, that was normal?" Pyrrha asked plaintively.

"Welcome to the real world!" Nora yelled, slapping Pyrrha on the back hard enough to make her lurch forwards. "It sucks; you're going to love it."

"What should I do now?"

"What now? Oh, come on, Pyrrha, that's easy," Nora declared. "Now, you try and put your team back together."

"Yo, Baconhair!"

Sunset stopped; she turned around slowly, her eyes narrow and her face set in a scowl, to see Yang Xiao Long lounging against the wall with her arms folded.

The smirk on her face told Sunset that she was enjoying Sunset's reaction to the nickname.

Sunset glared. Yang didn't even blink.

"'Baconhair'?" Sunset demanded. First Torchwick, now Yang; what does it even mean?

"Yeah. You know, the streaks."

"My hair does not look anything like bacon," Sunset declared. "My hair is fire, beautiful and dangerous."

Yang smirked. "And it looks a little bit bit like bacon," she said. She peeled herself off the wall and sauntered down the corridor in Sunset's direction. Her hips swayed as she walked. "We need to talk."

"I'm a little busy right now."

"I'm busy too; everyone's busy," Yang said, closing in on Sunset. "But I'm making time for you, buddy. Come on, Oobleck's classroom should be empty."

"I don't-" Sunset began, and then stopped when Yang clasped her by the shoulder. Her grip was firm, with the promise of more firmness to come if necessary to carry that grip into painful territory.

"Listen," Yang said. "There are things that I will tolerate and things that I won't, and when it comes to my little sister, one of those lists is very short, and the other one is very long." Her eyes changed colour turning from purple to a blood red that seemed in the shadowy corridor to be almost demonic. "So either you come with me, and we can talk, or else we can 'talk,' understand?"

Sunset was reminded of the fact that Yang was a little bigger than she was, and broader in the shoulders, too. She was also reminded of the muscular definition of Yang's arms. She nodded silently, even as she mentally promised that she would pay the blonde back for this humiliation in the end.

Yang's eyes returned to their normal purple. "Great. Ruby said you were smart. Follow me." Sunset wasn't given the chance to respond as Yang bodily hauled her off down the corridor and into Oobleck's deserted history classroom.

Yang let go of Sunset long enough to hop onto Oobleck's desk, crossing her legs to hide her panties from Sunset's eyes.

Sunset sat down herself, on top of one of the long desks used by the students. "Okay, we're here. What do you want?"

"I want to talk about how you're going to be the team leader that my sister deserves."

"I don't need lessons in leadership," Sunset said, and it was only the memory of those red eyes that prevented her from adding "from the likes of you". She knew how to lead; she had sat at the hooves of Celestia and watched her do it. Now, yes, Sunset hadn't been acting in a very Celestia-like fashion lately, but that was because she hadn't been given the chance. If people would just pay attention to her-

"Yeah, because you're doing such a great job right now."

"It isn't my fault that Pyrrha's being a drama queen about this!"

There was pity in Yang's eyes. "Yeah, it is."

The pity was what galled Sunset most. She scowled. For a moment, she was tempted to say something cutting about how Ruby had come crying to her elder sister, and didn't that get old? But she didn't say it, because… because even trying to sow discord between Ruby and her sister would have been very cruel, and when it came to Ruby… Sunset didn't have the stomach for it.

What is this girl doing to me? "Ruby sent you, didn't she?"

Yang rested her hands on her knees. "You know, even though she got here early, Ruby's still waited a long time to come to Beacon. She's dreamed of this her whole life, ever since I used to read her-" she stopped abruptly. "She's dreamed of coming here her whole life; I'm not going to let you screw this up for her or make her four years here miserable because of your issues."

Sunset regarded the other girl evenly. In truth, what she hadn't said - what she had stopped herself from saying - was more interesting to Sunset than what Yang had actually said. Sunset had known since that first night that Ruby's mom - Summer Rose, the S in STRQ - was dead. What she hadn't known until Yang gave it away was that their dad was a deadbeat and the elder sister had been forced to step up and play mom to the younger. Their relationship was not what Sunset had first taken it to be.

Some sort of reply was necessary, so Sunset said, "You should be giving this talk to Jaune, maybe get him to do his homework once in a while."

"Jaune isn't the one Ruby's worried about," Yang said. "You are."

Sunset snorted. "Do you think I'm doing this on purpose? Your sister isn't the only one who wants to be here at Beacon. I've waited for this too."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

"Stop sitting there so righteous and put yourself in my position for five seconds!" Sunset snapped. She got to her feet. "Have you ever wanted something so badly that longing for it consumes you? That getting it is all that you think about?"

Yang's expression was impressive. "Maybe."

"What would you do if you met someone who had that thing you want so badly, but who didn't appreciate it one damn bit?" Sunset asked. "Wouldn't that infuriate you?"

"Nope."

Sunset snorted. "Easy to say."

"It happens to me all the time," Yang said, in such a way as gave nothing away as to what it was she wanted except that it was commonplace. "You won't see me blowing up about it."

"That only means that you don't really want it that badly."

Yang smirked. "You have no idea." She looked at Sunset. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't want it as badly as I used to. But I did, once. I wanted it so badly that I did something stupid. Stupid like you probably wouldn't believe. And then I took a look around, and I stopped thinking about what I wanted for a moment and started thinking about what I had: Ruby, my little sister, my beautiful, kind… and now you've got her too, and I'm going to need you to take better care of her, or you and I are going to have problems. Look at what you've got, Sunset; look around and ask yourself if it's worth fighting with Pyrrha over what you want."

"Ruby isn't my sister."

"No, but she'll save you if you let her," Yang said. "That's just who she is. She'll save you like… like she saved me. You care about her, don’t you.”

Sunset scoffed. “No. Whatever gave you that ridiculous idea?”

Yang gave her a look of bemused incredulity.

“What?” Sunset demanded.

“Who are you trying to fool?” Yang asked. “If you didn’t care, then you would have let Ruby suffer in that locker room instead of getting your team moved so that she could have an easier time of it-”

“Much good it did me,” Sunset muttered.

“So seriously, who are you trying to fool?” Yang repeated. “Why the act?”

Because if I admit that I care, then it’s the same as going back to Equestria and admitting to Celestia that she was right all along, Sunset thought. “It’s none of your business.”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Yang admitted. “The point is… Ruby’s the bravest person I know. She’s selfless; she always puts protecting others ahead of herself, and that… that worries me sometimes. Especially now that we’re on different teams and I can’t take care of her. Ruby needs someone to protect her while she protects the world. Someone who has her back while she faces danger. I think that you can be you, Sunset Shimmer… but you need to sort out your issues with Pyrrha and clean up the mess that your team is turning into.”

Sunset pursed her lips together until she was almost pouting. She could almost buy into the whole pedestal that Yang was putting Ruby on, such was the effect that Ruby Rose seemed to have on those around her. But even if Sunset had managed to retain her usual cynicism in the face of Ruby's inexplicable effects on her… that didn't change the fact that Yang was talking a lot of sense. Twilight, Goodwitch, Yang, all telling her the same thing, all playing variations on the same melody. Sunset didn't like it but… but like she'd told Yang, Ruby wasn't the only one for whom Beacon was important. This was her last chance before that destiny train pulled away from the station. She could feel ignominious anonymity stalking her like a creature of grimm. Was she really willing to throw away her shot over this for Pyrrha's sake?

Sunset sighed. "Apologies don't come easily to someone like me. Making… friends comes even harder."

"You don't have to make friends with Pyrrha; you just have to get by for Ruby's sake," Yang said. "And maybe you don't have to apologise either, provided you understand. You and Pyrrha… maybe you're talked enough. Maybe it would be better if you talked in something other than words."

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The biggest change is that the flashback has gone. Other than that, some minor changes to accomodate the fact that Ruby and Sunset are much closer now than they were at this point in the original.

Also, rather than Dove spilling the beans because he's a racist, Dove takes the blame for Lyra or Bon Bon because he's an absolute gentleman in this rewrite.

Sunset in Splendour (Rewritten)

Sunset in Splendour

Pyrrha was waiting in the dorm room as Sunset strode in, back straight and head held high, with an expression on her face as proud as a queen.

Pyrrha got slowly to her feet. The dorm was empty apart from the two of them, which was for the best as far as Pyrrha was concerned. She had overreacted, she could see that now; she had allowed her unfamiliarity with the way that… more ordinary people did things to lead her astray. Sunset was not blameless, but after what Nora had helped her to realise and in light of the way that the situation had been allowed to escalate… Pyrrha had decided that it would be best to be the bigger person and apologise. If they could only put this business behind them, then perhaps they could go back to how things had been before, to the way they had almost been pleasant immediately after being put on the same team together.

“Sunset-“ she began.

Sunset held up one hand for quiet.

Pyrrha hesitated, unsure of where this was going. What did Sunset intend to say to her in turn? Had she some fresh invective to pour on Pyrrha’s head. How much would she have to endure?

Sunset took pause awhile, and in her pause, her regal pride seemed to crack and crumble. She folded her arms, and her chin descended, and she looked less self-assured, with more surliness in her expression than anything else.

She snorted out of her nose like a bull, and for a few moments longer, she said nothing.

“I don’t know why you came here, to Beacon,” Sunset said. “Not surprising, we haven’t talked much.”

It took Pyrrha a moment to realise that Sunset was asking the question in expectation of an answer from her. “I… I came here to learn how to protect the world.”

Sunset snorted, sounding very much like a horse as she did so. “I came here for fame.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset stared at her for a moment, before a smirk crossed her lips. “It’s kind of funny when you think about it: I’d love to be you, and you probably wouldn’t mind being me… actually, maybe not. I suppose…”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Sunset, I-“

“No.”

Pyrrha blinked. “No?”

“No, I’m not going to mouth some apology, kiss and make up, and pretend that everything’s okay, and neither are you; that doesn’t…” Sunset trailed off again. Her jaw tightened, and her head rose as she pointed at Pyrrha. “Pyrrha Nikos, I challenge you to a duel.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “'A duel'?”

Sunset smirked. “Why so surprised? It’s still legal in Mistral, right?”

“Yes, it is, but… as you reminded me, we’re not in Mistral.”

“It’s in the school rules too; I checked,” Sunset insisted. “I have the right to challenge you to answer my grievance in the ring of honour. I need to get this out of my system, and so do you.”

Pyrrha was not so sure of that, although she had to admit that there was a certain appeal to it. As she had told Ruby, she only ever really felt herself when she was in combat, and she had always spoken better with Miló than she had with her tongue. And Sunset was right, it was the Mistralian way of settling these things. But Sunset was not Mistralian, and there was no guarantee that she would feel, as any true Mistralian would, like walking away at the end of the fight content that honour had been satisfied, whatever the results. That cut to the heart of Pyrrha’s great concern: that if she and Sunset fought, then there was absolutely no way that Sunset could win. She was not bad, but she was nowhere near Pyrrha’s own level of prowess. What did she hope to gain, then, by this? Would this not serve simply to make her resent Pyrrha all the more?

“I’m not sure that-“

“Hey!” Sunset snapped. “Don’t pity me and don’t take me lightly. I’ll give you a good run for it, I swear. There’s a lot of me you haven’t seen yet.”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. She could believe that, if only because there was a lot of Pyrrha that the world hadn’t seen yet either. Was Sunset, like her, hiding a particularly powerful semblance? Was she holding back in Professor Goodwitch’s class in order to surprise her opponents at the Vytal Festival?

Of course, there was also the possibility that Sunset was lying about this, but Pyrrha doubted it. It wouldn’t avail her anything to make herself out to be more powerful than she was when the proof of it would be easy to see in the arena. If she really was hiding something, then Pyrrha had to confess that a part of her, the part of her that had once thrilled to the feeling of stepping into the arena, that had considered it a world entire and to itself, was intrigued at the possibility. Perhaps Sunset was hiding gifts so great that she might actually challenge Pyrrha.

Certainly, there was a look in Sunset’s eyes, a warrior look, a look that was proud but not boastful, confident but for good reason. It was the look of someone who honestly expected that they could win.

A look that Pyrrha hadn’t seen in the eyes of her opponents for some time. Even in Arslan’s eyes, that look was beginning to fade away. Pyrrha didn’t realise how much she’d missed that look until she saw it in the eyes of Sunset Shimmer.

That would be something to look forward to. No one had seriously challenged her in quite some time.

She smiled. “Very well. I accept your challenge, Sunset Shimmer. I look forward to meeting you in more straightforward circumstances.”

Sunset’s smirk broadened. “Oh, it’s going to be great, I promise.”

Pyrrha finished strapping on her greaves, the last piece of her armour to be applied. She was armed now, and well prepared for anything that Sunset might throw at her. The weight of armour and weapons alike was reassuring. She didn’t have to worry about her lack of skill with words or her lack of understanding of so many things that others took for granted. Here, she could speak with Miló and listen with Akoúo̱ and be well understood by all who witnessed it.

She stood up. It seemed to her that passing from the locker room into the arena was like being born: you began in darkness, alone, unknown, unnoticed, and then you walked out of the dark corridor and into the light, where a whole world was waiting to receive you and acclaim you.

As Pyrrha walked through the dark corridor, she thought to herself that she would rather have been ‘born’ alone and unnoticed. She would have liked for this contest between Sunset and herself to have remained a private matter, watched only by Ruby and Jaune. But that was impossible, not least because they needed to get permission from a professor to use the hall outside of class time, and they also needed a professor – or at least a qualified referee – to supervise the fight.

That role was generously being filled by Professor Goodwitch, who was not given to gossip, but nevertheless, the fact that they had booked the hall was not a secret, and word had gotten around. Word about a Pyrrha Nikos fight always seemed to get around; Pyrrha was sure that she could have gone to an illicit fighting den in Vale’s seediest district, and there would have been a reporter waiting for her when she got there. And so, as Pyrrha walked out of the dark corridor and into the light, as she was figuratively born clad in armour and armed for war, she was greeted by a great cheer from people watching from the bleachers, waves of upon waves of applause descending upon her head.

When she was young – when she was younger than she was now – that acclaim had delighted her. She had revelled in it, and in the revelling known herself to be almost as alive as when she fought.

It did not delight her now. It felt like a long time since she had truly earned it. So many effortless victories, so many opponents who could barely touch her even without the use of her semblance. If Sunset had something up her sleeve… Pyrrha found that she hoped the other girl did.

She hoped - a vain hope perhaps, but nonetheless – that this bout might give her cause to recall why she had once loved this.

Sunset had changed in her dorm room and then waited back in the first-year locker room for the time to come. She was not alone. Ruby was with her, fidgeting with her hands and looking wildly this way and that as Sunset got dressed.

Sunset pulled on her jacket. “Do you have something to say to me, Ruby?”

“I just… I’m sorry about the fight,” Ruby murmured, “but Jaune was in trouble, and I couldn’t just leave him there.” She smiled, or tried to. “I know how tough Yang can be, and I know how she never lets up.”

“Your sister…” Sunset trailed off, because the truth was that Yang scared her a little bit, but she wasn’t willing to admit that. Not least because it would probably get back to Yang, and Sunset wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “I didn’t get the chance to explain my plan, but I was going to sacrifice Jaune just to keep Yang busy for a bit.”

“Really?” Ruby exclaimed. “But that’s terrible. I know he’s not that strong, but he’s still a member of our team.”

“Sometimes a pawn has to be sacrificed to win the game.”

“But Jaune’s not a fish; he’s a person!”

It took Sunset a moment to work out what Ruby meant. “I said pawn, not prawn.”

“Oh, you mean like those magazines Yang thinks I don’t know about? But what does-?“

“No, not that either!” Sunset said. “Just forget it.”

“Okay,” Ruby said quietly. “I just… I’m sorry about all this. It’s my fault that everyone found out about what was going on between you and Pyrrha. It’s just that I tell Yang everything, and I didn’t think that anybody would-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Sunset said. She grinned at her young partner. “If you’ve been beating yourself up about it these last few days, you can stop. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Really?” Ruby exclaimed. “But… everyone hates you!”

“So?” Sunset responded. “They probably hated me anyway, and it’s not like I need their good opinion for anything.”

Ruby frowned. “Why do you always act like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like… it’s not even that you don’t have any friends; it’s like you don’t want any.”

Sunset smirked. “I don’t need them,” she said. “I drink milk.”

Ruby flushed as red as her name. “You… you heard that?”

“Yup.”

“Well, what I meant was that I… that doesn’t mean that I don’t want any friends,” Ruby protested. “I just meant that I… I don’t even know what I meant. Why are you doing this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… no offence, you were good when we fought Torchwick, but… it’s Pyrrha.”

“Yeah, and I’m Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset replied. “It’s time the world realised what that meant.” She turned to go.

“Wait, what about your gun?” Ruby asked, pointing to Sol Invictus propped up against the wall.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder, first at the weapon and then at Ruby. “I don’t need it.” Or rather, it wouldn’t do her any good to take it with her anyway. She couldn’t beat Pyrrha Nikos with Pyrrha’s own weapons, the weapons of a warrior in which the Princess Without a Crown had been training her entire life. In order to win, she would need to use the weapons of Sunset Shimmer, mind and magic in which she had trained for her whole life. It would mean revealing a lot more of her power than she had thus far, but Sunset judged the risk well worth the prize. She had to do something to prove that she was not a thing to be taken lightly, and she had to do something to start impressing people in a way she just wasn’t going to manage with her above-average huntress skills in a year that had people like Pyrrha and Ruby in it.

She was not - probably would never be - a truly great huntress using simply her weapons and her aura. Even if she discovered her semblance, unless it turned out to be something particularly badass, it probably wouldn’t be enough to put her in the top tier.

But she was a unicorn archmage, and if she wasn’t quite able to complete one of Starswirl’s unfinished spells, then she was still one of the most gifted unicorns to pass through Celestia’s tutelage.

You have to own what you got, that was what she’d said to Twilight. Well, what Sunset had more than anything else was magic, and it was about time that she owned that, even in Remnant.

This was not a world to hide virtues in. The world to hide virtues in did not exist.

Thus, Sunset strutted out of the locker room and onto the stage.

Pyrrha stood on the other side, armed and armoured, unaffected by the cheers of the crowd.

Professor Goodwitch coughed. “Miss Shimmer, you seem to have forgotten something.”

“I’ve decided to fight without a weapon, professor,” Sunset replied. “I have that right.”

Professor Goodwitch’s eyebrows rose. “This is very unusual, Miss Shimmer-“

“But not wholly unprecedented,” Professor Ozpin declared, suddenly appearing by the side of Professor Goodwitch. He sipped from his mug of cocoa. “As you say, you have the option. But are you sure that this is the wisest choice, Miss Shimmer?”

His words hung pregnant in the air between them for a moment as the headmaster’s eyes bored into her, ferreting out the heart of her mystery even as his words conveyed more than they said.

He wanted her to be careful. He wanted her to reconsider, though Sunset did not know why. But she was beyond all care and caution. This was her moment; she could not throw it away by languishing in half-measures.

She looked away. “I’m quite sure, Professor.”

“Very well then. So be it.”

Pyrrha’s expression was inscrutable at this distance. It was impossible to tell what she thought about it.

Just so long as you don’t hold back.

“Are both combatants ready?”

“One moment, please, Professor,” Pyrrha said, and she straightened up and bowed to Sunset.

For a moment, Sunset was puzzled; she never seen that during combat class. But of course, this wasn’t just a sparring match, was it? This was a duel, fought under the code of honour.

Sunset smiled, and it was almost genuine, as she bowed to Pyrrha in return.

Pyrrha nodded approvingly as she straightened her back. Then, like water, she flowed into a combat stance, legs bent and poised to pounce like a big cat, shield held before her. “I’m ready,” Pyrrha declared.

Sunset turned her collar up, and spaced her legs more evenly apart. “I’m ready, Professor.”

Professor Goodwitch’s voice rang out across the hall. “Begin!”

Pyrrha charged, her burnished shield before her as her swift feet carried her across the stage to the cheers of the onlookers.

Sunset crossed her arms before her and conjured a glowing green shield around her.

Pyrrha’s face showed nothing but concentration on the battle as, without a word or sound, not even a shout, she pushed outwards with her shield and slashed wildly with her sword at Sunset’s shield.

The blade skittered harmlessly off the magical barrier. Pyrrha’s eyes gleamed as she switched her weapon into spear form and reversed her grip for a thrust.

Sunset grinned as he flung her hands outwards. Instantly, the shield erupted, the energy of the barrier exploding like a shockwave which tossed Pyrrha backwards across the stage like a rag doll thrown aside by a spoiled brat. The crowd gasped as the Champion of Mistral hit the floor and skidded backwards a few feet until she leapt in a fluid flip back to her feet. Pyrrha’s spear changed into a rifle with which she fired three quick shots at Sunset.

Sunset teleported out of the way, moving herself a few feet to the left with her hands flung outwards. Power was gathered at her fingertips; she’d practiced this until it was almost as easy as it would have been with a horn. From all ten fingers, she fired off bursts of green energy at Pyrrha. Pyrrha rolled aside, deflecting some of the blasts with her shield even as she used said shield as a rest for her rifle. She fired again. This time, Sunset wasn’t fast enough to teleport away, and the shot struck her in the shoulder, bearing her to the ground. She winced once as she was hit - it felt like being hit by an ursa’s paw - and a second time as she hit the ground beneath her.

The instant she hit the ground, Pyrrha was on her, her spear descending straight for Sunset’s heart. Sunset rolled and teleported again, this time just above and behind Pyrrha. She fired a burst of energy from her open palm. Pyrrha rolled to avoid it, and so nimble was she and so swift that she nearly dodged it despite the point-blank nature of the distance. Part of the stage floor exploded as Pyrrha, struck in the side, was turned around like a spinning top, but as she turned, she had the presence to extend her shield arm and raised her shield to strike Sunset, in turn, a glancing blow upon the face.

Sunset hit the floor face first and scrambled to her feet. She was breathing heavily now, sweat was coating her brow and running down her back, making her top stick to her skin. She had to get up before Pyrrha could recover or-

Of course, who am I dealing with here? The thought, rather unhelpful, ran through Sunset’s mind as Pyrrha was on her. She kicked Sunset up and then struck with her shield, so hard that Sunset not only hit the ground but shattered it beneath her. Sunset grabbed hold of the pieces of broken floor with telekinesis, hurling them upwards above her. She was rewarded by the sound of them hitting what could only be her tenacious opponent.

She teleported again - I can’t keep doing this – and added a touch of the reverse gravity spell to keep her hovering overhead, suspended twenty feet above the stage near the ceiling. In spite of the pounding in her heart, in spite of the sweat, in spite of the shaking weariness in her limbs, Sunset did her best to keep a calm, serene look on her face. She didn’t dare let Pyrrha know how close she was to losing. She didn’t dare take her eyes off Pyrrha long enough to check their aura levels.

Pyrrha stood, waiting expectantly. It almost looked as though she was smiling.

Sunset grinned right back. And for my next trick. She spread her arms out wide on either side of her and conjured up a score and more bolts of green energy all around her like vorpal spears, hovering in the air. This kind of indirect casting was a drain even more than teleportation, but damn if it didn’t look impressive to bystanders.

She held them in the air for a moment longer, and then, like a god casting down thunderbolts from his mountain throne, she hurled down her spears on Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha ran. She darted this way and that as the spears fell down around her, destroying the stage beneath her feet, running and dodging like a field mouse in the thicket trying to escape the eagle’s claws. As she ran, Sunset lifted up the fragments of stage beneath her feet, trying to unbalance her. But Pyrrha was not only swift but graceful; she leapt from fragment to fragment, and though some of Sunset’s spears hit home, she didn’t allow them to slow her for more than a second. Even when she lost her footing, she recovered it again a moment later. The spears from heaven fell, and Pyrrha dived through them and leapt upwards, shield held before her and blade reversed for a downward stabbing stroke.

And Sunset did the most unexpected thing that she could think of and rushed to meet her. Magic propelled her forwards and downward through the air like a superhero, leather jacket flying behind her as she collided with Pyrrha with all the force of a bullet, reversing her momentum as they both plummeted downwards into the ground to wreck what remained of the Beacon stage.

You gotta be close to the end now, surely. Sunset raised her fist, but Pyrrha was faster and hit her in the face with her shield so hard that Sunset’s head was knocked backwards. She groaned in pain, and while she was distracted, Pyrrha hurled Sunset back into the air and slashed at her repeatedly with her sword.

Sunset teleported away. She was visibly gasping for breath now; she didn’t have another teleportation in her. She hadn’t done so much magic at once in quite a while, and her reserves were starting to run low. Have to make it count.

Pyrrha charged towards her.

Sunset felt a great wind blowing around, billowing her hair and jacket as though destiny itself swirled about her. She gripped her right arm with her left, to keep it from shaking, and pointed her index finger at Pyrrha like a gun.

“Bang.”

A beam of energy erupted from Sunset’s finger. Pyrrha didn’t have time to dodge this time; it was moving too fast, and so was she. She was caught in mid-stride, and though she took the beam upon her shield, she was borne backwards by its force and dumped in a heap on the edge of the broken stage.

Sunset panted. That was it. That had to be it. That was all that she had left in her; surely, there was no way that Pyrrha could-

She glanced at the board. Pyrrha’s aura was still in the yellow. It was only just, it was a sliver away from being in the red, but it was still in the yellow.

And Pyrrha was getting up again.

She took a few steps forward, pirouetted on her toes like a dancer, and threw her shield like a discus.

Sunset saw it coming, but she didn’t have the energy to raise a shield, she didn’t have the energy to teleport, she didn’t have the energy for anything but to watch as the shield hit her in the face and knocked her onto her back.

The klaxon sounded.

“Congratulations, Miss Nikos,” Professor Goodwitch said. “You are the winner.”

Sunset cursed mentally. She thought it through, she’d gone to her limits, she’d fought the fight upon her terms, fought her way, with her gifts. Was she really that inferior? Couldn’t she beat Pyrrha even in her own chosen discipline?

Was she really just… mediocre?

There was no other sound in the hall but Pyrrha’s footsteps traversing the shattered, treacherous stage before she appeared above Sunset.

She was smiling, but it was not a cruel smile, not a smirk of victory to lord over a defeated foe. It was… it was something else. It almost seemed kind.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said.

“Huh?” was all Sunset could murmur in reply as she lay on the ground, prostrate and defeated.

Pyrrha held out a hand to help her up. “That was the most enjoyable fight I have had in quite some time. That semblance… it’s quite the talent you’ve been hiding.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Sunset said, as she allowed Pyrrha to help her to her feet. She might not have won – let’s be honest; she hadn’t won – but she understood Pyrrha better now than she had before. Just reading about her record and her accomplishments wasn’t the same. Sunset now recognised that, though they were completely different in so many ways and attitudes, they were at their core the same: they were both people who had worked their backsides off to be the best in their chosen field – Pyrrha in arms, Sunset in magic – and although Sunset didn’t understand why Pyrrha wanted to be the best when she didn’t seem to enjoy all the accolades that came with it, Sunset could nevertheless recognise the skills. From one prodigy to another.

For a moment, the two of them stood amidst the wreckage they had wrought in silence. No voice from the hall was raised to interrupt them. They stared into one another’s eyes, both green, and though Sunset was loath to admit it, there was a nagging part of her that thought Pyrrha’s orbs were probably brighter and more beautiful. Sunset fancied that, just as she understood Pyrrha better now for having spoken with blows than she had when they were speaking with words, so too did Pyrrha understand her a little better also.

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said. “An impressive display, although I will note that had you not left your weapon in the locker room, you might have had some options once you had exhausted your semblance.”

Sunset sighed. “Yes, Professor.”

“Although, with such a powerful semblance, one can hardly blame you for a slight degree of overconfidence,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“Miss Nikos,” Professor Goodwitch said. “A formidable display, as always. You did excellently, both of you. I hope that the experience has taught you something.”

“Yes, Professor,” Pyrrha said, with a glance at Sunset. “I think it has.”

“Go Pyrrha!” Ruby shouted. “Go Sunset!” She started to applaud, and it became clear from the way her eyes went from one to the other that she was applauding for both of them. Jaune was the next to take up the clap, and soon, the applause had spread throughout the hall until all the spectators, save only for the two professors, were applauding.

Sunset couldn’t be sure, she could not know for certain, but she dared to hope that they were all applauding for both of them.

She let it wash over her for a moment, eyes closed as that nectar and ambrosia which she had long sought and for so long been denied flowed into her ears and balmed her soul. This was it. This was what it was all for. She didn’t need friends, Pyrrha didn’t need friends… all that they needed was this, to be loved by the masses, acclaimed by them, acknowledged by them as something superior. Applause that was for you sounded different than applause for other people, as you learned if you listened closely enough; you could feel the difference in your soul. Sunset hadn’t heard the sound of applause intended for herself since she had demonstrated her prodigious magic before the nobles of Canterlot at the symposia that Celestia would hold for the great and good. She had felt then as though she were on track for something great and glorious. She was starting to feel that way again.

She glanced at Pyrrha, wordlessly enquiring as to the etiquette of these situations.

Pyrrha nodded, wordlessly answering.

As one, still hand in hand, they bowed.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: very little change, just some grammar/spelling corrections.

On the Rooftop (Rewritten)

On the Rooftop

Sunset and Pyrrha sat on the rooftop with the wind caressing their features and licking at their hair, even as the sunlight gently kissed their faces.

Sunset leaned back, resting her head on her clasped hands, and closed her eyes.

It was the afternoon after their fight, and Sunset found that she could be around Pyrrha without raging outwardly or even inwardly at all her flaws. While she wouldn't call her a friend, being up here with her was, well, it was almost pleasant. Comfortable.

Whether that comfort would survive contact with all of Pyrrha's fans downstairs in the school was a matter for some discussion, but right now, Sunset was feeling pretty good.

Even if she had lost the fight, she had gained the respect of Beacon in the process; it was like one of those sports movies about going the distance with the champ.

Of course, that wasn't to say that Sunset didn't still kind of hope to be the champ one day.

"Your semblance is very impressive," Pyrrha said. "One of the most versatile semblances I've seen."

Sunset opened her eyes. That would certainly be true if magic was her semblance, which was part of the reason she hadn't previously gone so over the top with it. But, as much as Pyrrha was a smart girl, Sunset had faith in the power of frame of reference. If she, in her studies at Canterlot under Celestial, had been confronted with a form of power like aura or semblances, then she would not, without any details, have assumed them to be hitherto unknown forms of power, rather branches of the magic she was familiar with. So far, it had worked just the same in Remnant.

"Yeah," she said. "It is pretty cool."

"You must have spent a long time training to use it."

Sunset looked up at the blue sky overhead. "When did you start training to fight?"

"My training began in earnest when I was five."

"That's about when my training began."

"It sounds like an… interesting training regimen that focussed so heavily upon the use of your semblance, rather than combat skills or weapons handling."

Sunset was silent for a moment, considering her response. "I had… you might say that she was an unusual teacher. She wasn't training a warrior; rather… I'm not sure I can explain what she was training. I'm not even sure that I know anymore." The closest she could think to come to a frame of reference that Pyrrha would understand would be to use Pyrrha's own words: a paragon of virtue and glory. But that would sound unbearably pretentious once it was actually put into words. "She's probably very disappointed in me right now."

"'Disappointed'?" Pyrrha repeated, with astonishment evident in her voice. "I would say that your abilities do credit to your master."

Sunset snorted. "My teacher wouldn't have wanted me to become a huntress, a killer. Hey, Pyrrha?"

"Yes?"

"Do you believe in destiny?"

Now it was Pyrrha's turn to fall silent. "Yes," she said. "Although not as some might conceive of it. There is no inescapable fate to which we are condemned from birth. Rather, I believe that our destiny is the goal to which we have committed ourselves and to which we progress through determined effort."

Sunset sat up, a frown creasing her forehead. "No offence, but how is that destiny? If we can choose our fate, then surely it is no fate at all."

Pyrrha asked, "Do you believe in inescapable fate?"

"I'd like to," Sunset said. "I certainly used to when I thought my fate was something grand and glorious. But I think destiny must be preordained, or it is nothing."

"'Look at me; I am the daughter of a great woman,'" Pyrrha murmured. "'A god was my father, but death and inexorable destiny are waiting for me.'"

"A quote?"

"I'm a little surprised someone as knowledgeable as you hasn't read the Mistraliad."

"I know the stories, mostly," Sunset replied with a touch of defensiveness.

"Yes, but until you have read the poem… I was named for the Pyrrha who fought at Mistral, the finest of the warriors who fought there. When the war began, that Pyrrha chose a brief but glorious existence over a long and ordinary life, and when her lover was killed, Pyrrha chose to have her revenge, though she knew that her own death would follow hard upon. That became her destiny, inexorable… but only because she chose it."

Sunset nodded. She understood a little better now where Pyrrha was coming from. "Among my people," she said, "we don't really trouble to define what we mean by 'destiny.' We think of it mostly in terms of a fixed thread, but now that you have explained it, I think that we sometimes slip into the second meaning." It would explain the lies of Celestia: in the mistaken view of her old teacher, she had strayed off the path that led to her royal destiny and thus forfeited it. She had been quite wrong, of course, and understanding her thinking in no way lessened the sting of her betrayal of Sunset, but… she understood a little better now what Celestia had been trying to say. “Amongst my people,” she continued, “we believe that everyone is born blessed with one supreme talent, a great gift within themselves. It is reflected in the… in the symbols that we choose for ourselves, which are all representations of that talent. But this gift, although it lies within us, is not for us but rather, it is for the world around us. Though a… though we may have many skills, the discovery of our true gift is a matter not simply of finding something at which we are skilled, or even that thing at which we are most skilled, but of discovering how we can enrich the world around us and leave it a better place than it was left behind.”

“So, in a sense, you do believe in a destiny that lies within your choosing,” Pyrrha replied.

“To an extent,” Sunset conceded. “Although… you can be blind to your gift, to your destiny, for many years, but you will not be given another. You will wander… blank, as we call it, until you see the truth about yourself and embrace it.”

Pyrrha nodded thoughtfully. “I confess, I have never heard this before; is it a common belief in Atlas?”

Sunset made a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a gasp. “Aha, no. I, um… I was schooled in Atlas, but I grew up outside the kingdoms. That is where these beliefs originate.”

“That makes a little more sense,” Pyrrha said softly, “and you left your home and set out for Atlas… for fame?”

“For my destiny,” Sunset corrected her. “It was clear to me that it lay elsewhere than the place where I grew up.”

“Is not your mark a signifier of your destiny?”

Sunset looked down at the sun on her tunic. “Not exactly,” she explained. “The mark… I used to think that I knew what this meant, but now, I… am not so sure.” She had thought that the blazing sun symbolised her destiny to replace Celestia, but now… what did it mean? “I suppose I hope to find the meaning here, also. Pyrrha,” she added, in an attempt to change the subject, “may I ask you something?”

“If you wish.”

"Can I ask, if you believe we choose our destiny, then why did you choose a destiny you don't want?"

Pyrrha shook her head sadly. "I've always believed that my destiny is so much more than to win trophies. My destiny, the destiny I choose, the destiny I came here searching for… is to protect the world."

Sunset chuckled. "And I thought I was the one with grand ambitions."

"For what other reason do huntresses exist?"

"Well, yes, but when you say it out loud..." Sunset trailed off. There was a reason she kept her own ambitions to herself: to speak them out loud was to expose them to the mockery and derision of small minds and smaller spirits incapable of risking all with a leap into the unknown. And besides, if you told a wish, it wouldn't come true, and ambitions had always seemed very close to wishes to Sunset's way of thinking.

"Our world is under siege and in grave peril," Pyrrha declared solemnly. "We cannot simply try to hold ground or minimise our losses."

"You're talking about retaking the world from the grimm?"

"I suppose I am," Pyrrha said. "I believe that that is where our destiny, humanity's destiny, must lie, and I believe that I can play some part in that. And so could you."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "What are you saying?"

Pyrrha smiled. "I'm saying that it was an honour to fight against you, but it would be a greater honour to fight by your side."

A smile blossomed across Sunset's face. She held out a balled fist, which Pyrrha regarded suspiciously.

"You bump it with your knuckles," Sunset explained.

"Oh," Pyrrha replied. "Oh, I see."

They bumped fists.

"Hoof bump," Sunset murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all."

And that's how I learned that fighting was the way to solve all my problems.

Well I'm glad that things are better between you and Pyrrha, obviously, but I can't help but think that this could have been resolved without a fight.

If we hadn't fought, we wouldn't have been able to appreciate one another's skills first hand.

There was a pause at the other end of the journal. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that you might be right.

Sunset sniggered. Am I making the Princess of Friendship uncomfortable?

The fact that you live in a world of violence disturbs me, I will admit. You make it sound almost dystopian.

Atlas could have stepped out of a trilogy of novels if you added a love triangle, but I haven’t seen enough of Vale yet to be able to comment. Twilight Sparkle?

You can just call me Twilight, if you want.

We're not friends. But Sunset's hand trembled. She felt as though she were on the threshold of a door that she must cross, and yet, she feared to do so. Do you think Princess Celestia is ashamed that I took what she taught me and I use it take life?

I haven't actually told her too much; your situation sounds incredibly dangerous, and I wasn't sure if you'd want her to worry.

No. I don't want her to worry. And I don't want her to judge. There, she had set it down, her fear, and now, it could not be erased. It grinned up at her, mocking and sardonic, taunting her with her own weakness.

From what you've told me, there is nothing to judge. Assuming you're not lying, then you're protecting people from terrible monsters. I pity that you have to live such a life, but I don't judge you for it.

Sunset nearly wrote back that she didn't need the pity of a usurper, but what would have been the point? She was irritated, but not so irritated that she wanted to either end the conversation or get it bogged down in whether Twilight Sparkle had or had not meant to be patronising.

She thought about Pyrrha's dream, her destiny to which she was willing to commit body and soul to work towards. Could it be done, the grimm defeated once and for all? The history of places like Mountain Glenn or the Crimson Offensive suggested otherwise, but Sunset was no seer. Not even Celestia could see the future. Perhaps Pyrrha could do it, and if Sunset were a part of it then...

Princess, do you believe in destiny?

Bon Bon, a name to which she was becoming far more accustomed than Sweetie Drops, lurked in the dark recesses of the library as she got out her scroll and called the individual identified in her directory only as Black Queen.

The reply was not too long in coming. That lugubrious, oozing voice dripped out of her scroll. "Sweetie," she said, "I wasn't expecting you to be in touch so soon."

"I have a name for you," Bon Bon replied. "Sunset Shimmer."

"I've never heard that name before."

"You wouldn't have," Bon Bon acknowledged. "She went to Canterlot Combat School with Lyra and I. She had talent – more than I showed, and more than Lyra has – but nothing remarkable."

"Do you want me to murder one of your old school rivals so that you can feel some sense of payback?" asked the voice on the other end of the scroll. "Because that's so deliciously petty I might actually consider it."

"This isn't about that," Bon Bon said sharply. "I'm sending you a video that I took this afternoon." Nobody had questioned that she was filming the duel between Pyrrha and Sunset, or rather, that she had started filming shortly after the duel started. It had, after all, turned out to be an impressive fight, and she hadn't been the only one taking video. Bon Bon had seen Weiss Schnee recording the match as well; she was probably going to study it to plan counterstrategies. She kept the call running in one tab as, in another window, she found the video in question and sent it across the world. "It doesn't have the beginning of the fight, but you can see enough."

From the other side of the scroll, Bon Bon could hear the sounds of fighting and guessed that the Black Queen was watching. "Impressive," she conceded. "Very impressive. This doesn't look like nothing remarkable."

"She must have been holding back all this time," Bon Bon said.

"And yet she chose now to cut loose. Why? What was this fight against Pyrrha? Not just another sparring match, I'll wager."

"No," Bon Bon agreed. "It was a duel between the two of them. Apparently, they were on the outs, but they seemed to have made up by the end of the fight."

"So she held back to avoid people knowing how strong she was… right up until the moment when her pride was on the line," came the reply. "I like her already. Find out more about her. Oh, and Sweetie Drops?"

"Yes?"

"This is just what I sent you to Beacon for. Keep it up."

Author's Note

This chapter is short because it's just a coda to the end of the first arc of the story, which focussed upon Sunset and Pyrrha. The next arc of the story will sort of adapt the Jaundice story arc and will give some focus to Weiss, Flash and team ~~racist~~ Wisteria

Rewrite Note: This is another chapter that didn't change too much, but does have the addition of a discussion by Sunset on the meaning of cutie marks, and a brief bit with Bon Bon.

Vale (New)

Vale

Jaune slashed and hacked and stabbed on the rooftop.

He’d known that he was a way behind Ruby and Pyrrha, but what he hadn’t known until this afternoon was just how far ahead of him Sunset was as well. God! The things that she was doing with her semblance – as Pyrrha had called it – had been incredible. And Pyrrha had seemed all the more incredible for being able to win the fight in spite of Sunset’s power.

He had known that Sunset, like his other two teammates, was stronger than he was, but Jaune hadn’t understood the extent of that strength differential until now. He had thought that Sunset was the second weakest of their team, second only to him. Now it felt as though the three girls were roughly level with one another at the top of the mountain, while he was somewhere down at the bottom looking up at them.

They seemed very small from down there.

Which was why he had to keep on climbing.

In an effort to help him get stronger faster, Jaune had ventured into the library very briefly after Sunset and Pyrrha’s duel, and come across a book called The True Principles of the Art of Fencing, which, a brief glance at the introduction had told him, was an old Valish fencing manual. Jaune had checked out the book, and now it sat propped up against the wall by the door leading down from the rooftop, so that he could see the pictures and try to mimic what they were doing.

It was a little harder than it had seemed at first; not all of these stances were very comfortable, and they didn’t seem to flow together all that well. But it was in a book, so it had to work somehow, right? He just wasn’t doing it properly, or he was missing the nuances maybe.

Perhaps he should stop to actually read the thing.

Jaune shook his head. He didn’t have time for that. If he sat down to read a book from start to finish, then he’d just fall even further behind his teammates as they strode on ahead of him.

He just had to push through and keep going. If nothing else, swinging his sword around enough should make him physically stronger, shouldn’t it?

Jaune jerked from stance to stance, huffing and puffing as he fought with shadows.

Her morning jog with Jaune had become a part of Pyrrha’s morning routine over these first couple of weeks at Beacon. It made sense, since he was apparently as used to getting up early as she was, that they would use the time before breakfast to get some early exercise.

It was something she found that she quite looked forward to.

She tried to set a reasonable pace, in order to enable Jaune to keep up with her; he seemed, to put it politely, a little less experienced than she was. Nevertheless, as she was beginning to make a circuit of the central courtyard, Pyrrha noticed that Jaune had fallen behind her. She stopped, turning around to see that Jaune had not just fallen behind; he had almost fallen. He was leaning upon one of the tall stone columns that encircled the courtyard, doubled over.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha cried, dashing back towards him. “Jaune, what’s wrong?”

Jaune let out a groan. “Uh… nothing… I just… uh…”

Since it didn’t seem that he was capable of standing up, Pyrrha knelt down so that she could get a better look at his face. There were dark bags underneath his blue eyes, blue eyes that were a little less vibrant today than normal. “Jaune, you look exhausted! How do you feel?”

“… Exhausted,” Jaune admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha apologised, cursing herself for not seeing this coming. Jaune was out every night doing who knew what; he didn’t get back until every other member of Team SAPR had turned in. Even Sunset, who was otherwise a bit of a night owl herself and didn’t seem to feel like doing her homework until the sun had, well, set, got to bed much earlier than Jaune. Sometimes, Pyrrha wasn’t even awake to hear him come in. “This was a mistake; I shouldn’t have pushed you. Let’s go back to the dorm room.”

Jaune shook his head. “I… I’m fine,” he panted. “Just give me-”

“You are not fine,” Pyrrha insisted.

She hesitated. Ruby knew what Jaune was doing night after night, and she seemed to think that it was doing Jaune no harm; Pyrrha trusted Ruby, or at least she trusted Ruby’s good intentions, but it was clear that Jaune’s nocturnal activities were doing him some harm, if only by sheer attrition. She didn’t think that she could turn a blind eye to this any longer.

“Jaune,” she said, keeping her voice soft and gentle. She didn’t want him to think that she was scolding. “I don’t know what it is that you’re doing every night, but I think you need to reconsider. You can’t keep rising early and getting to bed late indefinitely.”

He was barely able to do it now. Nevertheless, she decided not to ask what he was doing at night; she didn’t want to be seen to pry.

Jaune shook his head. “I have to,” he said. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way to what?” Pyrrha asked. “What are you doing every night, Jaune?”

Jaune didn’t reply.

Pyrrha frowned. “I’m your partner,” she reminded him. “Whatever is going on, you can trust me.”

Jaune closed his eyes. “I do trust you,” he said, “but I need you to feel like you can trust me.”

“I…” Pyrrha stopped, her words trailing off. Because of course, if she trusted him, then she would let this go and, well, trust him to do the right thing. Put like that, how could she refuse? “Very well,” she said. “Will you at least let me help you back to the dorm?”

Jaune straightened up, or tried to. “I can keep go-ah!” he staggered forwards and might have fallen on his face save that Pyrrha was there to ensure that he only fell into her arms.

“Come on, we’re going back,” Pyrrha said, as she pulled one of his arms over her shoulders and started back towards the dorm rooms. She smiled at him. “It’s alright, Jaune. I’ve got you.”

That didn’t seem to have been the right thing to say, judging by the dejected look that came across Jaune’s face. He didn’t reply. He just looked so… so disappointed that Pyrrha didn’t know what to say, much as she wished she did.

It honestly felt like a little bit of a relief when he fell asleep on the way back; Pyrrha hardly noticed the difference between dragging him and helping him. She held him a little tighter and lifted him up a bit so that his feet didn’t scrape along the ground.

Of course, it was difficult to get her scroll out holding him like this, so when she did get back to the SAPR dorm room, she knocked fumblingly upon the door to get the attention of her teammates still inside.

The door was opened by Ruby, still wearing her pyjamas, whose silver eyes widened at the sight of them. “Jaune!? Is he okay?”

“He’s just tired,” Pyrrha reassured her as she carried Jaune inside, Ruby making way for the two of them.

Sunset was standing by her bed; she was also still in her pyjamas. She folded her arms as a smirk crossed her lips. “What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Pyrrha replied, a note of reproach in her voice as she laid Jaune down upon his bed. “He’s exhausted.”

“All that sleeping in class isn’t cutting it, huh?”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, with more than a mere note of reproach in her voice now. She glanced at Ruby. “Ruby, I won’t ask you what Jaune is doing each night because he asked me to trust him, and I respect his wishes, but as the only person who knows… can’t you persuade him to stop? I’m afraid it’s hurting him more than it’s helping.”

Ruby frowned. “I’ll try,” she agreed, “but I’m not sure that he’ll listen.”

“What is he doing?” Sunset demanded.

Ruby looked at Sunset. “He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“Tough. Spill it.”

“Sunset,” reprimanded Ruby.

“I have a right to know,” Sunset declared. “We all have a right to know, but me as his team leader especially. Especially as his team leader, who is currently doing all of this lazy bum’s homework. All of our successes depend in part on him. My success depends in part on him. If he’s going clubbing in Vale every night-”

“It isn’t like that,” Ruby assured her.

“Then what is it?”

“Sunset, please,” Pyrrha urged. “Please, let it lie.”

Sunset huffed. She pressed her lips together in a pout. Her tone was a little less angry when she spoke again. “It may not have occurred to you that there is only so long that I can keep this up,” she said. “If I have to keep doing the work of two students, I’m going to be the one falling asleep in class. I’ll give him until half term to pull his ho- pull his finger out and show some improvement, then I won’t let it go any more.” She sat down on her bed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Since the question was meant for Jaune, Pyrrha did not reply. She walked around Jaune’s bed, towards her own. “Ruby, if you want to get in the shower first, I won’t stop you.”

“Sunset?” Ruby asked.

“Go ahead,” Sunset said softly.

As Ruby went into the shower, Pyrrha sat down on her own bed, on the opposite side of Jaune to Sunset. She looked down at him, at his face; it was handsome in repose, marred only by the dark circles of exhaustion around his eyes. The way that his hair fell across his forehead, she almost wanted to reach out and-

“You realise some people would say that’s a little creepy,” Sunset observed.

Pyrrha’s head snapped up. She could feel her face starting to redden. “I, uh, I don’t know what you mean?”

Sunset had a very knowing look upon her face. “I used to watch Flash sleep sometimes, when we were going out. Of course, we were going out at the time, so it wasn’t weird.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Pyrrha said unconvincingly.

“Doesn’t it?” Sunset replied, with a healthy dollop of scepticism in her voice. “Do you like him?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question,” Sunset insisted. “Although if the answer is yes, then my next question will be ‘why?’”

Because… because… Pyrrha felt embarrassed to realise that she was struggling to answer that question. She felt even more embarrassed to realise that she didn’t really know Jaune very well. She had known him for two weeks, she had seen him perform an act of kindness towards Ruby, she knew that he came from a family of huntsmen, and from that… from that, she had spun a fairytale for herself, dreams of marriage and romance.

She realised with an abrupt feeling like a slap in the face that she had behaved exactly like all the people who presumed to know Pyrrha Nikos because they had seen the Invincible Girl on television a few times. She had presumed to know Jaune Arc, when all she was doing was projecting her own desires onto him.

It made her a bad partner, and she suspected a rather bad friend as well.

I’m sorry, Jaune. I will do better in future.

I will get to know you, all of you, if you will let me. I will get to know you and let you know me, and I will wish you every happiness with Weiss Schnee.

“Thank you, Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset frowned. “For what?”

Pyrrha smiled, appreciating that Sunset was sparing her dignity by not belabouring exactly what it was that Pyrrha had to thank Sunset for.

She looked away from Jaune, and was about to open a book while she waited for Ruby to be done in the shower when she heard Sunset grunt. Pyrrha looked over to see Sunset rooting around underneath Jaune’s bed. She pulled out a book, a new edition of an antique fencing manual by the look of it.

“Look what I found; it’s from the library,” Sunset announced.

“I see,” Pyrrha replied quietly. “Jaune had it.”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should put it back,” Pyrrha said.

“Aren’t you interested in why he’s got it?” Sunset asked. “Do you think that he’s trying to learn how to use a sword? A little late, don’t you think?”

“Please, Sunset, put it back,” Pyrrha urged.

Sunset dropped the book onto her bed. “You’re not in the least bit interested in how he managed to pass the Combat School equivalency exam without knowing what aura was or being able to use his weapons effectively?”

“He can learn how to fight,” Pyrrha said.

“He ought to have learnt already.”

“But he hasn’t,” Pyrrha reminded her. “But that doesn’t mean that he can’t learn. He has a good heart.”

“That won’t save him from the grimm.”

“Won’t it?” Pyrrha asked. “Why not? The grimm are darkness, and we are the light. They are evil incarnate, beings of pure destruction, driven by their base instincts to kill and devour. We oppose them with weapons, yes, but should we not oppose these creatures of darkness with shining virtues also? I would rather fight alongside a good man than a mighty warrior with the heart of Cardin Winchester.”

“Or me,” Sunset said sharply.

“You are better than you give yourself credit for,” Pyrrha replied. “Please, Sunset, put the book away.”

Sunset looked a little reluctant, but she did as Pyrrha asked and slid the book back down beneath Jaune’s bed.

At that moment, Jaune’s eyes flickered, and he stirred to wakefulness once more. “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, softly but kindly. “How do you feel?”

Jaune yawned, which was as good a way as answering as any other, Pyrrha supposed. “What… did I fall asleep?”

“For a little while, yes,” Pyrrha answered. “You don’t need to get up. You can go back to sleep, if you want to.”

“No, I’ll get up,” Jaune said, shaking his head as he sat up. He yawned again. “Although, I could maybe use some coffee.”

“I’ll get it,” Pyrrha assured him, getting to her feet and crossing the dorm room quickly. Her boots clicked upon the corridor floor as she made her way to the galley kitchen that the students could use to make themselves snacks, or light meals if they did not care for any of the available options in the dining hall. It had a sideboard on either side of the sink, a microwave, a hot plate, a toaster, a cheap kettle, and plentiful cupboards above and below the work surface. In one of the top cupboards, Pyrrha found a jar of coffee, albeit there wasn’t much left inside.

“I think they left some for us to get started, but we have to replenish it ourselves.”

Pyrrha looked around. Flash Sentry stood in the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said evenly.

Flash winced. “Please, don’t… I know that some of my teammates can be a little… I’m not like Cardin or Russell.”

Pyrrha hesitated, her back to him as she pulled the mostly-empty coffee jar down out of the cupboard. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have prejudged you.”

“It’s okay,” Flash said. “I suppose Sunset’s told you some horror stories about me.”

“Actually, she doesn’t mention you all that often,” Pyrrha replied. She paused. “Although… she mentioned just now that… she used to watch you sleep.”

Flash snorted. “I think I woke up to that a couple of times.”

“Did you find it… odd?” Pyrrha asked.

Flash smiled as he walked into the kitchen. “No,” he replied. “I thought it was sweet.”

And yet you broke up with her and hurt her so badly. “I see,” Pyrrha said softly.

She got a mug for Jaune, one of the plain mugs that were in the cupboard already. They should probably buy their own.

“That was a great fight you two had,” Flash said, as he waited for Pyrrha to finish. “I’d rate it one of your personal best.”

“You’ve seen me fight?” Pyrrha asked. She looked at him over her shoulder. “Am I in your way?”

“No,” Flash said. “I can wait. And yes, I’ve seen you fight. I saw you fight Shining Armour in an exhibition match.”

“Ah, yes, the charity fight for the Asclepius Institute,” Pyrrha replied. “Yes, I recall. He was a skilled opponent.”

“Sunset was better, yesterday,” Flash said. “She actually managed to land a hit on you.”

“She is very skilled.”

“I had no idea,” Flash said earnestly.

“She kept her strength from you?”

“From everyone, until now,” Flash confirmed.

“Then I am honoured that she chose to reveal herself in battle against me,” Pyrrha declared.

“Honoured?” Flash repeated. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand Mistralians. How is she?”

“Sunset?”

“Yeah,” Flash murmured.

“She is… as well as can be expected, I suppose,” Pyrrha replied.

“Right,” Flash replied, his tone concealing his thoughts upon the subject. “I see.”

Pyrrha finished making Jaune his coffee and carried the steaming mug back to the dorm room. By the time she returned, Ruby was out of the shower.

“Pyrrha,” Ruby said, as the latter walked in. “I was just saying, we should all go into Vale today, and I can show you around. Like we didn’t end up getting around to last week.”

“That sounds like it could be very pleasant,” Pyrrha replied, as she carried Jaune his coffee and handed it to him. He drank greedily, in spite of the heat, only to burn his tongue a little in the process. “I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “Is it too hot?”

“No,” Jaune assured her. “I just wasn’t thinking straight.”

To Ruby – and to everyone, really – Pyrrha said, “We could also use some groceries for the kitchen, and some of our own kitchenware, perhaps.”

“I suppose it would be good having someone to show us around,” Sunset conceded.

Jaune sipped some more coffee. “Sounds good,” he agreed.

“That’s that, then,” Sunset said. “We’ll get ready and head out after breakfast.”

Sunset was the next one to go into the shower, so while she was doing that, Ruby fastened her cape around her shoulders and asked Jaune and Pyrrha, “So, have either of you ever been to Vale before?”

“No,” Jaune said. “My… we never had any reason to, before now.”

“I spent the night before heading to Beacon,” Pyrrha said, “but I spent most of that at my hotel, I went to the theatre but I got a cab there and back.”

“Okay,” Ruby said. “I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert or anything,” she said quickly, in case their expectations were too high, “but I’ve been a few times, even on my own. That’s how I met Sunset and how I got into Beacon.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this story,” Jaune said.

“Nor I,” Pyrrha agreed. “I knew that there must be a reason you were admitted early – and your skills demonstrate the reason admirably – but at the same time, I’m curious as to what specifically happened.”

Ruby was beginning to wish that she hadn’t brought it up. “Well, it’s nothing special, really,” she said. “I was in a dust shop – and so was Sunset, although I didn’t realise it – when all of these bad guys came in led by this guy Roman Torchwick, and they were there to rob the place, and they started collecting all the dust-”

“The dust?” Pyrrha repeated. “They weren’t just there to steal the takings, then?”

“Surely, it would be easier to just take the cash,” Jaune theorized.

“Yeah, but dust is valuable,” Ruby replied. “I mean, look at Weiss. Maybe he was going to sell it on to someone else?”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha agreed. “In any case, Ruby, please continue.”

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward really,” Ruby said. “This guy came into the back – I had my headphones on, so I couldn’t actually hear the robbery – and he was like ‘put ‘em up, kid,’ but then I threw him across the store and kicked a second guy through the window. And then Sunset was like ‘laser beams!’ and then I was outside the store fighting Torchwick’s guys ‘wham! Bam!’ And then they were all down, and there was only Torchwick left… until this girl showed up, and then all of a sudden, they both just… disappeared. Until we saw the Bullhead take off, at least. He got away.”

“But you stopped the robbery,” Pyrrha reminded her. She had a fond smile upon your face. “And the amusing style of your delivery can’t disguise the fact that you put yourself in danger facing hardened criminals.”

“You would have done the same,” Ruby assured her. “I think we all would have.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed. “But you did it.”

“I guess,” Ruby murmured. “So, anyway, where do you guys want to go in Vale?”

“I have no idea,” Pyrrha admitted. “We are entirely in your hands, Ruby.”

“Apart from the stuff you suggested we get,” Jaune added, “which is probably a good idea, it doesn’t look as if the school is going to replace any of that stuff. But yeah, other than that… why don’t you surprise us?”

“Uh… sure,” Ruby muttered, and hoped that whatever she came up with didn’t disappoint.

When the team was all ready, Sunset found that in appearance, it had divided pretty much in half. Ruby was wearing her huntress outfit, the black ensemble with her red cape, to the extent where it looked a little odd to see her without her weapon. Sunset was in much the same boat, but had made a concession to the casual circumstances by forgoing the jeans she usually wore under her skirt. Jaune and Pyrrha, on the other hand, were both wearing something new, which Sunset supposed was especially understandable in Pyrrha’s case, considering what her battle gear looked like; she probably didn’t want to wander around Vale armoured for a fight.

Jaune was wearing a different hoodie, this one with white stripes running horizontally across the arms and chest, with a white shirt underneath, while his pants were black like his hoodie. Pyrrha, meanwhile, wore a black halter-top with a red skirt and a touch of bare midriff visible in between the two. A red purse hung by a strap from her shoulder as they made their way down to breakfast.

The dining hall was less crowded for breakfast on a Sunday than it was on any other day of the week as a consequence of students not feeling the need to get up. Case in point: Ren and Dove were there when Team SAPR arrived, but without any sign of Yang or Nora.

“Hey guys,” Ruby said, as Team SAPR sat down opposite the two representative of YRDN. “Yang and Nora decided to sleep in, huh?”

“I apologise that your sister is picking up Nora’s habits,” Ren said.

Sunset smirked. “You wouldn’t dare say that if she were here, would you?”

“If she were here right now, there would be no need to say it,” Ren replied.

The smirk didn’t waver off Sunset’s face. “It would be hilarious if she were behind you right now. Hilarious for me, anyway.”

“So,” Ruby said, changing the subject, “what have you guys got planned for today?”

“Training,” Dove said. “I said I’d help Lyra with some of her sword technique.”

“You spend a great deal of time with Lyra and Bon Bon,” Pyrrha observed.

“Especially when you’ve already got two-“ Jaune’s words came to a clattering halt as his sleep deprived brain caught up what he’d been about to say. It was too late, however, to avoid the looks that Ren and Ruby were giving him.

Sunset grinned at his discomfiture. “Go on, Jaune, you had a sentence to finish.”

Jaune made a strangled choking noise. “I just meant that… you hang out a lot with two girls who aren’t on your team.”

Dove shrugged. “I like them,” he said. “They’re nice.”

“Yang’s nice too,” Ruby informed him.

Now it was Dove’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I… haven’t said or heard anyone else say otherwise, about Yang or Nora,” he added, jerking his head a little towards Ren. “It’s just that Lyra and Bon Bon are more…” He cleared his throat. “So anyway, what are you up to today?”

“Ruby is going to show us around Vale,” Pyrrha replied.

“A good idea,” Ren said. “Perhaps we should ask Yang to do the same for us, once she wakes up.”

“You could always come with us?” Ruby suggested.

“Thank you, but Nora wouldn’t appreciate it if I saw the sights without her,” Ren said. “Do you have anything particular in mind?”

“Not really,” Ruby admitted. “But I know a couple of good bookshops.”

“I didn’t know you read,” Dove said. “What are you into?”

Ruby smiled shyly. “Stories about heroes,” she admitted, as though it were something that she had to "admit" as opposed to simply stating it. “Stories… stories about the kind of people whom we’re training to become: brave people who fight the monsters without a trace of fear.”

Dove nodded and looked thoughtful, although what he was thinking about, Sunset couldn’t say. Nor did she particularly care.

There were three ways of getting down into Vale from Beacon: if you had a vehicle in the garage, you could drive it down, or you could walk, or you could get the airbus that landed on the docking pad every hour on a Sunday to collect anyone from the school wishing to head down into the city. As it happened, Sunset did have a vehicle, her beloved bike, the Sunset Special, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing that she could fit the entire team on, and nobody felt like walking into the city today. So they caught the ten o’clock airbus, which set them down in the midst of Vale twenty minutes later, and they were free to start exploring the city.

The civilian skydock was located not far away from a large public park, the unfortunately named Winchester Park, which, in spite of its name, nevertheless looked a pleasant enough sort of place, if one enjoyed wasting one’s time in public parks where there wasn’t much to do except look at flower beds. Nevertheless, Pyrrha seemed enthusiastic about taking a look around, and so they all trooped in through one of the gates set in the iron railings that fenced off the park from the rest of the city. There was already a fair crowd there already, people milling in a leisurely fashion up and down the paths or across the grass, while bees buzzed through the flowerbeds and birds sang in the trees that lined the pathways.

Not far from the entrance they had come in, Sunset’s attention was drawn to an incredibly saccharine memorial: a wall of white stone, on which was carved a frieze depicting mules, horses, camels, and elephants marching along in a column, all of them burdened with something upon their backs. Upon the wall was also carved the inscription Animals In War in heavy, block letters, and underneath the words They Had No Choice. Sunset glanced around and saw that the wall was surrounded by bronze sculptures of animals: plodding, broken-down pack horses, a noble war horse, and a dog, which looked somewhat incongruous until Sunset thought about Applejack and that trained dog she always had running by her side.

All the same, in spite of the fact that she was a pony herself, Sunset could not help but find the whole thing a little ridiculous. Of all the things – all the people – they could erect a monument to, and this was what they chose to remember: the animals.

Pyrrha saw what Sunset was looking at and strolled over to join her in front of the absurd memorial. She spent a moment taking it in. “In Mistral,” she said, “we have nothing like this.”

“You mean in Mistral, you have sense?” Sunset suggested.

“I don’t see that there’s any need to be unkind,” Pyrrha said mildly. “The Great War must have been the death of thousands – tens of thousands – of these poor creatures. And it is quite right to point out that they didn’t have a choice.”

“That doesn’t mean they deserve to be remembered,” Sunset replied. “Or at least, not that they deserve to be remembered more than, oh, I don’t know, people.”

“I am sure that there must be such monuments,” Pyrrha said. “We simply have not come across them yet.”

“I hope so,” Sunset muttered. “Or Vale has its priorities seriously out of whack.”

“Hey, guys,” Jaune said, as he and Ruby joined the other two. “What are you looking at?”

“It’s a memorial to the animals who perished in Vale’s wars,” Pyrrha explained.

Ruby gasped. “I’ve been to this park a few times, but I never noticed this was here before.”

“Lucky you,” griped Sunset.

“Sunset doesn’t appreciate it,” Pyrrha explained, with a slight trace of a sigh in her voice.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha. “Do you really think that this is a good thing?”

“In Mistral,” Pyrrha began, “we honour the generals and the kings who led the wars. Perhaps remembering the innocents dragged along in the wake of their ambitions is… more compassionate.”

“I don’t know. I like the Mistralian way better,” Sunset replied.

“How is it in Atlas?” Pyrrha asked.

“In Atlas,” Sunset said, “they honour the sacrifices made on behalf of the state. The individuals don’t matter as long as the kingdom they died for endured.”

“I like that,” Ruby said. “I mean, I don’t like that they died, but… we’ve got a statue of the king who won the war… somewhere, I don’t know if I could show it to you, but anyway… putting up statues to kings and generals, I don’t know. Surely, what’s important, what really matters, is that the day was saved, and all the people too.”

“You don’t want any recognition at all?” Jaune asked, surprised.

“No,” Ruby said, as though it were obvious. “So long as we complete the mission, that’s all right with me.”

“What about the heroes in the books?” Sunset said.

Ruby smiled. “They’re not heroes because they ended up in books, Sunset; they ended up in books because they were heroes.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “There are many amongst my people who would find such an attitude very strange, and yet, I find it very noble.”

“It would be nice to get a ‘well done’ every so often,” Jaune muttered.

“If you earn it, sure,” Sunset said, with just a touch of sharpness in her voice.

They got hot drinks – more coffee for Jaune, tea for Sunset and Pyrrha, hot chocolate for Ruby – and raisin flapjacks in plastic wrappers from a little wooden hut selling refreshments a little further down the path. While they were drinking, they were drawn further into the park by the sounds of music and cheering and some heavy thuds that they could not identify.

They reached the far end of the park to find a rally in progress, a great crowd assembled across the green, blocking out the grass beneath their feet with the density of the people packed in so tight. Music such as one might find at a circus was playing, as robot animals – elephants, lions, giraffes, horses, camels – marched up and down with heavy treads, lifting their heads up and down, rearing, bowing, turning in place for the delight and amusement of the crowd.

In between the robot animals and the crowd had been erected a stage, with a banner raised above it urging the readers to re-elect Novo Aris as First Councillor.

Up on the stage stood a tall older woman, with a majestic mane of purple hair tinged with pink at the roots, wearing a vivid pink trousersuit that matched the roots of her hair.

“Ruby,” Sunset hissed. “Is that the First Councillor?”

“I… think so,” Ruby said.

“Shouldn’t you know?” Sunset demanded.

“I’ve only seen her on TV,” Ruby replied, a little defensively, “and Dad turns the TV off whenever she comes on.”

“Why?” Pyrrha asked.

“He doesn’t like her,” Ruby replied, stating the obvious.

Sunset didn’t ask why Ruby’s father didn’t like the head of Vale’s government; rather, she watched as the First Councillor turned away from the robotic animals that she had been observing and, with a bright smile upon her face, approached the podium set in the centre of the stage. The slogan Morning in Vale was picked out in yellow letters on a sky blue background on the front of the podium.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” Novo asked the crowd. “And these majestic creatures are just some of the amazing creations being developed by Starhead Industrial at their base of operations right here in Vale.

“There was a time not very long ago when things like this were only developed and manufactured in Atlas. There was a time when goods flowed south out of Atlas, and only our lien flowed the other way. There was a time when we looked north with envy, but not any more!” Novo paused to allow the crowd to cheer for a moment, as an army of enthusiastic volunteers at the front waved "Novo" placards. “Since I became First Councillor, I have presided over a transformation of this Kingdom. Since I became First Councillor, we have achieved full employment. Since I became First Councillor, in-work poverty has declined to record lows. Since I became First Councillor, our gallant huntsmen and huntresses have been so effective that the threat of the grimm has never seemed so insignificant. And since I became First Councillor, I have overseen the rebalancing of our economy on a scale unseen since the end of the Great War, as with the help of our friends in Starhead Industrial, Mendelson Robotics, and Accuretta Systems, we begin to manufacture goods that can compete with anything being developed in Atlas. And if you re-elect me as your First Councillor, I promise to continue that success and lead our kingdom to even greater heights. It’s morning in Vale! Let’s keep the sun shining!”

“Why doesn’t your dad like her?” Jaune asked. “She seems nice enough.”

“She’s a politician; of course, she’s going to seem nice,” Sunset said.

“True, but as politicians go, nothing that she said seemed particularly unreasonable,” Pyrrha murmured.

Ruby’s brow furrowed a little. “It’s all about Vale with her.”

Sunset frowned. “Well… that is where she lives.”

“But what about Patch?” Ruby demanded. “What about the villages beyond the city limits? Novo only cares about the City of Vale and other large towns on the coast; she keeps all the huntsmen back to defend them and hardly sends any out to defend the smaller places.”

“Like your home,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Patch is lucky,” Ruby replied. “The teachers from Signal are always willing to help out, but I can’t help thinking that there must be other places that aren’t so lucky, and I think Dad thinks so too. That’s why he turns off the TV.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips disapprovingly. “That puts rather a different colour upon all of this boasting. The first duty of a lord is to protect their people, and if she has been neglecting it, then…”

“Didn’t she just say that grimm attacks were down?” Jaune pointed out.

“For the cities, they probably are,” Pyrrha said.

Ruby nodded. “There hasn’t been a major grimm attack on Vale since Mountain Glenn. But outside the cities, things are just as dangerous as ever; people just don’t see it.”

Sunset and Pyrrha both moved to put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, and each looked surprised that the other hand done so.

“That is why we’re training,” Pyrrha said, giving Ruby’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “So that we may go where others cannot and do the things which they will not.”

“I know,” Ruby said. She looked at both of them gratefully. “Can we go somewhere else now?”

Sunset shrugged. “You’re our guide; guide us somewhere.”

“Hang on a second, guys,” Jaune said, as the rally began to disperse in front of them. “Is that Cardin?”

Sunset looked. She stared. It was Cardin, wearing a suit, and hanging off his arm was a pretty girl with long, blue flowing hair, looking up at him with adoration. She giggled at something that Cardin said.

“Seriously?” Jaune exclaimed. “His girlfriend was real this whole time? He wasn’t making her up? That guy has an actual girlfriend? That guy?”

“If it’s any consolation, she’s probably as obnoxious as he is,” Sunset observed. “Like Weiss. Regardless, happy couples make me nauseous, especially when one of the two is someone I dislike, so if we could move this along a little bit, Ruby?”

“Sure, right,” Ruby said. “Uh… this way.”

Ruby led them through the streets immediately around the park, high-end residences of the well-heeled, although, as Ruby explained, the really rich and the old nobility tended to live further north, on the coast, furthest away from most grimm. Nevertheless, there were some nice houses in this part of town, nice enough that they had security cameras and the police seemed to patrol the area pretty regularly.

They passed through that part of Vale quickly and entered a commercial district where Mom and Pop stores were fighting a rearguard against the encroachment of big chains taking up the spots on the street. Along the way, they passed one of the memorials to kings that Ruby had mentioned with a touch of disdain: an equestrian statue of the Last King of Vale, who had won the Great War and humbled Mantle and Mistral both. It was… not a particularly good statue, Sunset had to say; the tail of the horse looked as though it was about to fall off, and the king’s sword, raised above his head, looked as if it had holes in the metal. Someone had spray-painted a White Fang symbol on the stone plinth. Ruby stopped but shuffled impatiently as the rest of them looked at it, so that they felt obliged to move on swiftly afterwards. Jaune gave the statue one last lingering look as they moved on.

The commercial streets were reasonably busy, about as much as one could probably expect on a Sunday, but several dust shops that they passed were boarded up, as if they had recently gone out of business. Sunset would have suspected the SDC and their relentless drive to monopolise every aspect of the dust trade, but one of the boarded up stores had the remains of some decaying yellow police tape stuck to it.

“Another robbery?” Ruby asked, pausing in front of the crime scene. She looked at Sunset. “Do you think it was that guy Torchwick?”

“Could be,” Sunset agreed. “They never caught him, did they?”

“I guess not,” Ruby said. Her eyes began to gleam worryingly.

"No," Sunset interrupted.

Ruby gasped. "You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were about to suggest that we hunt down Torchwick, weren't you?" Sunset informed her.

"Well, yeah,” Ruby admitted, “but you didn't know that!"

"We're not doing it,” Sunset declared.

"Why not?" Ruby demanded.

"Because I don't see the point," Sunset said. He’s only a petty thief, after all; where’s the incentive to risk our lives over something like that?

"But somebody has to stop him!"

"Someone doesn't have to mean us,” Sunset replied. “Let the police earn all of those tax lien, or some professional huntsmen can take care of it.”

“The police and the professional huntsmen can’t stop him,” Ruby insisted.

“Whereas we, with our two whole weeks of schooling, will succeed where they failed miserably,” Sunset said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

“We almost got him before.”

“Almost

"Pyrrha-"

"This team is not a democracy," Sunset declared magisterially. "It is a dictatorship, and the tyrant is me."

Ruby looked a little unhappy with Sunset over that, but she didn’t press the issue, and thankfully, neither Jaune nor Pyrrha looked keen to raise it either.

While they were walking, Pyrrha caught sight of a hair stylist, one with a reasonably upmarket-looking set of premises, and the rest of them waited outside while Pyrrha went in and spoke to the woman inside. As far as Sunset could tell looking through the glass, booking an appointment took Pyrrha twice as long as it needed to because the girl behind the counter wouldn’t stop fawning all over her.

Small wonder that Pyrrha was looking a little red-faced when she came out.

“Sorry if I kept you all waiting,” she apologised.

“It’s fine,” Jaune said. “It’s worth it to keep your hair looking that way, right?”

“Really? Do you like it?” Pyrrha asked eagerly. “I mean, ahem, thank you, Jaune; it’s very kind of you to be so patient and understanding.” She gave him a shy smile as they continued on.

A few people took pictures of Pyrrha as she walked down the street, but fortunately, nobody approached them. Pyrrha didn’t look happy about it, but Sunset thought it could have been a lot more irritating.

Ruby ended up leading them to the dust shop where she and Sunset had fought Torchwick and his men.

“I didn’t mean to lead us here,” Ruby assured them. “I just… kind of did. Maybe because it’s the last place I went when I was in Vale last?”

“I think I spotted a bookshop not too far away,” Pyrrha said. “Do you know it?”

“No,” Ruby admitted. “Do you want to check it out?”

The shop went by the name of Tukson’s Book Trade, and when Sunset pushed open the door and led the way inside, she found that another student had already beaten them too it: Blake Belladonna, leader of Team BLBL, was standing at the counter talking with a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair.

They both fell silent as Sunset led Team SAPR inside.

“Well, pardon us,” Sunset said, as Blake looked at her as though she had a bad smell. “For some reason, I thought this was a store open for business.”

“It is!” the man behind the counter declared. “Welcome to Tukson’s Book Trade, home of every book under the sun.”

“Not quite every book,” Blake remarked. “I had to place an item on order, and it still hasn’t arrived yet.” She glanced at the man sharply.

The man behind the counter – Tukson, presumably – laughed nervously. “Okay, so the reality doesn’t one hundred percent match the marketing. Still, there are plenty of books on the shelves, so feel free to look around.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head.

“How did you find out about this place, Blake?” Ruby asked. “Are you from Vale?”

That’s right. I don’t know where you’re from, Sunset thought. Although most students from outside Vale wore it on their sleeve in some way, be it the consistent underlying patriotism of the Atlesians or the cultural distinctiveness of the Mistralians or the… they didn’t have any students from Vacuo in the freshman class, but if they did, Sunset was sure she would have noticed something distinct about them, too.

“Uh, no,” Blake said. “Not exactly. I grew up outside the kingdoms, but I’ve made a few visits to Vale before coming to Beacon, and I came across Tukson’s store. He’s usually very good at getting me what I want.”

“Some books are rarer than others, Blake; these things take time,” Tukson reminded her.

“I know,” Blake said. “I’m just… eager to start reading. Goodbye.” She started for the door.

“Is there anything you’d recommend?” Ruby asked.

Blake paused, her arm still as she reached for the door handle. “I don’t know what you’ve read, but there is a good section on fairy tales.”

While Ruby headed there, Sunset drifted over to the nearby, but separate, mythology and legend section, which sat sandwiched between Fairy Tales, where Ruby was browsing, and history, where Pyrrha was examining the selection. Jaune was looking at… how to guides?

Sunset shrugged. At least he was trying to learn something. She turned her attention to the mythology, her eyes passing over some retellings of the ancient myths – where did the line between fairytale and myth fall, she wondered – as she looked for a copy of the Mistraliad. She had become a little curious about it since Pyrrha had brought it up, and she thought that for the sake of her reputation as a cultured gentlemare, she should probably read the original, even if only in translation. And besides, she might actually enjoy it.

She saw the title on the otherwise black spine of a book, a book which, when Sunset pulled it out, billed itself as a new prose translation. A quick flick through the pages confirmed that it was, indeed, prose, and quite comprehensible prose at that.

“Oh, no, Sunset, you don’t want that,” Pyrrha said from over Sunset’s shoulder as she plucked the book from out of Sunset’s hands and put it back on the shelf. “That translation is… without wishing to be rude, not very good. To be frank, I feel as though many prose translations lose a great deal of the impact of the work. Excuse me, Mister Tukson?” she said, turning around.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do you have a copy of Corona Sparkle’s translation of the Mistraliad?”

Tukson smiled. “I suppose if you know Blake, then you’re probably the sort of upstanding young huntsmen in training that I can trust not to rob the store while I check in the back.” He disappeared into the recesses of his business, leaving Ruby and Jaune to continue browsing while Sunset and Pyrrha, waiting, edged closer to the counter.

Tukson emerged again with a thick leatherbound volume in one meaty hand. “Here you go, one Sparkle translation.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Um, how much did you say-”

“Don’t worry, Sunset; this is my treat,” Pyrrha said. “I can… well, I can hardly insist on the more expensive copy otherwise, can I?”

“I, uh… thanks,” Sunset murmured. A part of her felt as though she ought to refuse charity, but, well, what would be the point of that? And Pyrrha might even be right and it would turn out to be much better in poetry.

For herself, Pyrrha brought a political history of Vale. “Things don’t work quite the same here as in Mistral, and I think the differences might turn out to be important in Doctor Oobleck’s class,” she explained.

Ruby didn’t find anything she wanted, or at least nothing that she wanted badly enough to pay for, while Jaune wasn’t quite done choosing yet.

“Uh, you guys wait outside,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Sunset wanted to know why they couldn’t wait for him inside the store, but Pyrrha and Ruby seemed to want to oblige Jaune, and so, Sunset had little choice but to follow them outside.

“What’s he being so secretive about?” Sunset demanded. “Why does he need to hide what he’s buying in a bookshop?” There was one obvious answer, but she sort of hoped that it wasn’t that.

“If Jaune doesn’t want us to know, then we should respect that,” Pyrrha declared.

“Really?” Sunset asked, as Jaune left the shop carrying a paper bag. “So, what did you get?”

“Huh?” Jaune said. “Oh, just… a book.”

“Obviously,” Sunset replied. “What book?”

Jaune squirmed. “Well, uh…”

“You don’t have to tell,” Pyrrha informed him.

“Yes, he does,” Sunset insisted.

“The, uh, I got, uh… “ Jaune reached into his bag and pulled out… a comic book. “The latest X-ray and Vav.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

They found a convenience store to pick up their groceries – coffee, tea, chocolate, milk, snacks, that kind of thing for the kitchen – and then caught a airbus back to Beacon.

Sunset was surprised to see Dove waiting for them outside their dorm room when they returned.

“Hey, Dove,” Ruby said. “How did the training with Lyra go?”

“Very well, thanks,” Dove said. He had his hands clasped behind his back. “I think she’s improving. Not that I’m a great swordsman myself; I only know a few tricks my grandfather taught me. What about you? Did you find any good books?”

“No,” Ruby admitted. “But Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune all got something.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” Dove said. “I mean that there wasn’t anything you wanted.” He hesitated. “Ruby… I want to say again how sorry I am for spilling your confidences when you came to talk to Yang, I had no right to do that.”

“It’s okay,” Ruby said. “It all worked out in the end, right?”

“That’s very kind of you, but it’s not good enough,” Dove said. “To make it up to you, I wanted to give you this.” From behind him, he produced an old, rather dog-eared looking book, its leather cover fraying and coming apart, the pages looking rough-cut, almost jagged in places. The golden lettering that had once adorned the front was almost completely faded, and Sunset could barely make out the title.

Ruby, however, seemed to recognise it well enough. She gasped in awe and delight. “Dove… is that a copy of The Song of Olivia?”

“Yes,” Dove said. “It belonged to my grandfather, he… he gave it to me when I left for Beacon.”

Ruby’s eyes were wide as saucers. “Dove… I can’t take this.”

“I’ve read it so many times I probably know the whole thing by heart. Have you read it?”

“No,” Ruby said. “I’ve heard of it, but… it’s been out of print for years; you can’t get hold of it for love or lien.”

“Unless you happen to have an old copy,” Dove said. “Please, take it.”

“It’s too much,” Ruby insisted.

Dove said, “Yang says that you will be the Olivia of our times, I’m not sure if she means it as a compliment or not. In any case… I think that of everyone in this school, you deserve to have this and will get the most out of it.” He pressed the book into Ruby’s hands. Ruby’s fingers closed gently around the tome, as if she were afraid that it would crumble into dust. Given the state of it, it just might.

“Thank you,” Ruby said, in a voice that was soft and slightly squeaky. She stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Dove’s chest. “Thanks, Dove.”

Dove patted her on the head. “You’re welcome,” he said, before disentangling herself from her embrace and heading back to the YRDN dorm room.

Ruby had a great big smile on her face as she led Team SAPR back into their dorm room.

“So, what’s so special about this book, anyway?” Sunset asked as she followed Ruby inside. “Aside from the fact that it’s old and rare.”

“It’s the Song of Olivia!” Ruby cried, as though that ought to have been obvious. “One of the oldest chivalric stories in Vale. It’s the tale of Olivia, a young girl who dreams of becoming a knight in the king’s court. It tells the story of how she travels from her home village to the court and befriends Prince Edward, the heir to the throne. They grow up together, and she is knighted, and he becomes king. They fall in love, but they realise that their duty to Vale, her vows as a knight and his responsibilities as king, mean that they can never be together. The story follows Olivia on her many quests, slaying monsters and vanquishing villains, fighting for her king in battles to create the Kingdom of Vale as we know it. And it ends with her final stand alongside the Twelve Paladins of Vale at Stallion Pass. King Edward had led an army over the mountains to claim the lands to the east, but as they were marching back again through the mountain pass, an enormous horde of grimm attacked the rearguard under Olivia’s command. Her best friend, Roland, urges her to blow her horn and summon the rest of the army back to aid her, but Olivia is too proud to send for help and refuses. She and her companions stand fast against the grimm, but one by one, they are brought down until only Olivia remains. Only when she is mortally wounded does Olivia blow her horn, and help rushes to her side in time to save the bodies of the fallen heroes from being devoured by the grimm.”

“So… she dies because of her pride?” Jaune asked, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Pride is what we have left when we have nothing else,” Sunset informed him. “But, all the same…” That doesn’t make it any less stupid to hear about somebody else doing it. Now I understand why Dove said that Yang’s words might not be a compliment. Now Sunset understood, too, what Yang meant when she had said that Ruby needed someone to take care of her. If I’d been Roland, I wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

“A sad story,” Pyrrha said. “But a very generous gift.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “It’s a story… I guess it isn’t a story that people want to hear anymore. We… we’ve kind of forgotten our history that way.”

Perhaps that’s for the best, Sunset thought.

“It was nice of him to give it to you,” Jaune said. “Just… don’t get any funny ideas from it, okay?” he laughed nervously.

Ruby chuckled. “I won’t.”

As they all put their stuff away, Sunset watched Jaune out of the corner of her eye. He thought that he was being very discreet and that everyone else was distracted, but Sunset noticed that he took another book of his paper bag, and slid it under his bed.

It was called ‘Swordfighting for Beginners’.

Who are you, really? Sunset thought. He was lacking in even the basics, no doubt about that, but how had he gotten through combat school in this state?

And why do you need a primer when you sleep next to one of the most gifted sword-fighters of her generation?

Bargain (Rewritten)

Bargain

"Heck of a thing to wake up to on a Monday morning, huh?" Yang asked as the bullhead carried her, Sunset, Weiss, and Blake away from Beacon and out over the Emerald Forest, the same forest in which they had endured their Initiation just a couple of weeks earlier.

Weiss sniffed. "If you had a late night last night because you didn't expect this, you have no one to blame but yourself."

How were any of us supposed to see this coming? Sunset wondered. She was fairly certain that the answer was ‘they couldn't have, but Weiss was hoping it would make her sound good in front of Professor Goodwitch.'

She did not like this girl.

Sunset had just finished getting dressed when she got a high priority message from Professor Goodwitch telling her that morning classes for the freshmen had been cancelled and to meet her – alone – at the skydock. When Sunset arrived, she had found that all the first-year team leaders were present, along with a pair of Bullheads into which Professor Goodwitch had chivvied them.

Professor Goodwitch was on their Bullhead, but she stood with her back to the four and gave no sign of either wanting to speak to them or of having any desire to stop them talking amongst themselves as they flew away from the school. The green woods lay thick and tangled beneath them, broken up only by the broken stone fragments of ancient ruins which erupted out of the cover of the forest.

"Beacon is known for giving its students a more hands-on experience than the other academies," Blake allowed. "I suppose we should have expected that there would be sudden incidents like this."

"Maybe," Yang said. "Not sure that we could have expected having to do this by ourselves, though. Feels weird. I just got my new team, and I'm already having to do stuff without them. Doesn't it feel like this sort of thing should be covered under Grimm Studies rather than Leadership?"

Yang looked at Professor Goodwitch, as if that had been her cue to say something, possibly to offer an explanation as to what they were doing there. But the professor said nothing.

Sunset looked out of the open door on the side of the Bullhead, brushing her hair out of her face as the wind blew past their airship. She could see a true ship behind them, hovering between their location and the rising spires of Beacon. It was smaller than any of the stately Skyliners that routinely plied their trade across the skies of Vale; it was smaller, too, than an Atlesian man-of-war, although it was also a warship. Sunset guessed it to be a Valish Royal Navy destroyer: it looked like an armoured box, or two flat-topped pyramids placed base to base, with wings jutting out the side that flapped lazily in the air; guns emerged from all eight sloping sides, and a large ram jutted out from the prow.

Blake's eyes followed Sunset's gaze. "That's a Valish destroyer," she said without any doubt in her voice.

"A warship?" Yang asked. "You almost never see those. What's going on?" Once more, she looked to Professor Goodwitch, and once more, Professor Goodwitch did not reply.

She said nothing at all to them until both Bullheads had descended into a forest clearing not too far away from Beacon, a meadow with space for the two airships to land.

Only once all of the team leaders had disembarked and assembled in a line abreast did Professor Goodwitch, striding down the line, explain what they were doing here. "As you should all be aware, study at Beacon Academy involves significantly more fieldwork than is involved in studying at Atlas, Haven, or Shade. For you team leaders, that fieldwork begins now. Early warning systems in the Emerald Forest have detected a horde of grimm moving through the woods towards Vale. It is your job to stop them."

"Um, Professor?" Yang said. "Not to sound like a big old downer or anything, but what if we don't?"

"And is there any reason why this assignment isn't being carried out by actual huntsmen?" Blake added.

"Huntsmen, along with units of the Royal Navy and the Self-Defence Force, are standing by to intercept the grimm beyond the Emerald Forest," Professor Goodwitch explained. "However, as the grimm concentration is at the low end of level one, Professor Ozpin feels that this is a suitable situation to test your skills as huntsmen and as leaders."

Sunset raised her hand. "Professor, wouldn't this be a better test of leadership if we had our teams with us? I'm not sure how us being out here by ourselves teaches leadership."

"I'm not sure how getting into a public fight with one of your team helps you be a better leader, but it seemed to work for you," Yang said, prompting a round of chuckles that deflated a great deal of the tension from the group.

Even Professor Goodwitch smiled, if only very slightly and only for a moment. "As leaders," she explained, "you will inevitably have to deal with unexpected situations. This exercise will test your ability to improvise and adapt without relying upon the established skills and abilities of your teammates." She got out her scroll and tapped a few times upon the screen. All of the team leaders received an alert on their own scrolls. "I've just established a link between your scrolls and the early warning systems; you can now see the location of the grimm concentration relative to your position. At twelve-hundred hours, whatever the condition of the grimm, you will retreat back to this position for extraction. Professor Ozpin and I will monitor your progress and send assistance if we judge you require it. Are there any further questions?"

There was no reply but silence from the team leaders.

"Very well," Professor Goodwitch said. "Good hunting, all of you." She climbed back into one of the Bullheads as the pair of airships took off, rising up into the air above them.

Everyone checked their scrolls for the location of the enemy. The grimm horde was presented on a map of the Emerald Forest as a malign red blob, teardrop shaped and trailing backwards; it was currently to their north, and if the huntsmen did nothing, the grimm would pass to the east of them on their way to Vale.

Nice of you not to drop us directly athwart their path, Professor.

"Okay, let's do this!" one boy shouted, brandishing his staff above his head as he set off towards the grimm with an eager shout. Most of the others, though they were themselves team leaders, followed in his wake.

Sunset did not. She continued to look at her scroll. She felt fairly confident in saying that there was a better approach than charging the grimm head on. She looked at the terrain. The grimm's route would take them across the river; if she got to the crossing before them, then she could hold the bottleneck… and that would be better than nothing, but still less than ideal.

And then it came to her. Yes, that would work.

"Sunset?"

Sunset looked up to see Yang was looking back at her. Yang, Weiss, and Blake were the only other team leaders who had not immediately run off, although Yang looked as though she was about to do so.

"You're not coming?" Yang asked.

Sunset snorted. "If you want to run off with the rest of the idiots, then be my guest."

Yang put her hands on her hips. "'Idiots'? We've been told to fight the grimm, and the grimm are over there. What's the problem?"

"A plan might be nice," Blake murmured, in a tone that suggested she was trying to think of one, "but I take your point that we have to engage the enemy at some point."

"But not head on," Sunset replied. "Am I the only person here who pays attention in Grimm Studies?"

"If you mean 'are you the only one who listens to Professor Port's stories' then probably," Yang admitted.

Sunset rolled her eyes. The defenders of humanity. "Grimm hordes form when a single alpha becomes so strong that it can intimidate other alpha grimm into following it," she explained, summarising one of the salient details from one of Professor Port's stories from last week. "A horde moves with a screen of juvenile, weak grimm in front, followed by older, more powerful grimm behind."

"So that any defences or opposition will be tripped by the expendable juveniles while the older, more experienced grimm can react appropriately," Blake said. She paled a little, which was quite an accomplishment, considering how fair she was already. "So what you're saying is that when the other huntsmen hit the front of the formation-"

"They'll dispatch the weak grimm up front but almost certainly have to fall back in the face of the more dangerous grimm coming up behind," Sunset said. "Grimm we might not be prepared to handle."

"Speak for yourselves," Yang boasted.

Sunset looked at her. "It would not bother me one bit if you went and got yourself ripped to pieces by whatever kind of grimm are waiting out there, except insofar as if you did, then Ruby would probably cry, so if you could listen to me and stay alive for the peace of our dorm room, that would be great."

Yang grinned. "Okay, baconhair, if you've got another idea, let's hear it."

I'm tempted to feed you to the grimm for 'baconhair' alone, Sunset thought. However, she said, "Our mission objective is to stop the horde, not to kill grimm; if we can kill the alpha, then the horde will break up and become just a bunch of grimm in a forest that is already full of them. I'm not certain of our chances of breaking through the front, but at the rear of the horde, where it trails off, that's where the absolute weakest grimm with the lowest bloodlust will be."

"Did Professor Port tell you that as well?" Blake asked.

"Yes," Sunset replied.

"I need to start paying more attention in that class," Yang remarked.

"I have been paying enough attention to know that this is a ridiculous plan," Weiss declared, having been standing aside pretending that she wasn't listening. "How exactly do you plan to kill an Alpha, especially one of such size and experience?"

"I… haven't quite worked that out yet," Sunset admitted.

"But the four of us should be able to figure it out," Yang declared genially. "We'll even have the journey to consider it."

Weiss spluttered. "The four of us?"

"Unless you want to try and catch up with the crowd, ice queen," Yang said.

"Do not call me that," Weiss snapped.

"Do you have a better idea?" Blake inquired gently.

"We find good terrain, inflict as many casualties as we can, and weaken the horde for the huntsmen and the defence forces," Weiss said.

"That's not our mission," Sunset said.

"What if our mission is impossible and this test is to see which of us is smart enough to work that out?" Weiss countered.

"I don't think Beacon would do that," Yang said. "Not with real grimm and real lives at stake."

"I'm willing to give this a try," Blake added. "Are you coming or not?"

Weiss hesitated for a moment, before she huffed irritably. "If I die as a result of this foolishness, I expect all of you to be buried alongside me."

Yang chuckled. "That's the spirit."

"I'll take the lead," Blake said, setting off into the woods along a path that would take them around the edge of the grimm horde. Sunset and the others were left with no choice but to follow her.

Blake moved swiftly, darting on ahead into the woods, moving so quickly and so quietly that none of the other three could keep up with her, disappearing into the trees for a little while before doubling back to wait for the others to catch up. Sometimes, she left the ground and headed into the trees themselves, leaping from branch to branch to branch like a squirrel, but always doubling back again to let Sunset, Yang, and Weiss catch up with her.

She proved to be a swift guide, but a skilled one, navigating a path around the edge of the grimm horde, never bringing them into contact with any grimm, lest they draw the power of the horde down upon themselves. And yet, she also chose an easy path for those less light on their feet than Blake herself to follow, avoiding particularly dense tangles of undergrowth or bogs or rocky outcroppings that might have slowed them down too much.

Yang followed immediately after Blake, leaving Sunset and Weiss to bring up the rear.

Sunset regretted that fact, because it meant that she had to be in close proximity to Weiss Schnee, and Weiss seemed to dislike Sunset as much as Sunset disliked her and for far less cause.

Sunset had every reason to feel the way she did about Weiss Schnee. The Schnee heiress was petty and prissy, and she walked around with her nose in the air like she was better than everyone else.

She acted, in fact, exactly the way that Sunset had used to act when she was Princess Celestia's personal student, beloved of the ruling princess of Equestria, the chosen one. What right did Weiss have to act that way, as though she were some sort of princess herself and not the daughter of a dust salesman with ideas above his station? Sunset should have been the one to act that way. Sunset was the only one who was allowed to act that way. When she acted that way, it had probably been just as annoying to everyone else as Weiss was annoying to Sunset, but that was completely different because Sunset had been the one annoying people instead of being annoyed. Which was, of course, a completely different thing.

And she was so pretty and so rich and what loser guy wasn't going to fall head over heels for her? Flash probably felt exactly the same way about Weiss that Jaune did, and unlike Jaune, Flash actually had a few things to recommend him.

Which meant that Weiss was probably going to steal Sunset's boyfriend at some point in the near future, and there wasn't much that Sunset could do about it except stew and hate.

Yes, Sunset considered, rightly, that she had cause to hate Weiss Schnee. What she wasn't so clear about was what Weiss seemed to have against her, unless it was the fact that Sunset was a faunus.

The rest of her team are a bunch of bigots, after all; what's one more?

"Have you had any thoughts about killing the Alpha yet?" Weiss asked as they followed where Blake led.

"No," Sunset admitted. She had been too busy thinking about Weiss to come up with a plan as yet.

"Really?" Weiss said, feigning surprise. "You don't have any more little tricks that you've been hiding, waiting to show them off at the most opportune moment? Or is the defeat of an alpha grimm and the salvation of Vale not a prestigious enough occasion for Sunset Shimmer to use her full potential?"

"What is your problem?" Sunset demanded.

"My problem? What is your problem?" Weiss demanded.

"Guys, this isn't really the time-" Yang began.

"I don't have a problem!" Sunset declared.

"That's debatable," Yang began, "but maybe we should-"

"Why did you throw that fight?" Weiss snapped.

Sunset made a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a scoff. "Throw the fight?" she repeated. "You think I let you win?"

"Do you expect me to believe that you didn't?" Weiss replied. "I saw the way you fought against Pyrrha, the difference with the way you fought against me… it was nearly incomparable, as if you were a different person!"

"I needed to go all out to have a chance against Pyrrha."

"But not against me?"

"What are you complaining about?" Sunset yelled. "You won!"

"Because you were holding back, which means I won nothing!" Weiss cried. "Do you think that I want people to go easy on me? Do you want a job at the SDC when your four years at Beacon are over?"

"Oh, bite my tail," Sunset snapped. "I don't want anything from you, and I don't need anything from you."

"Then why did you go all out against Pyrrha but not me?" Weiss shouted.

Sunset smirked. "Because I take Pyrrha seriously."

Weiss recoiled as though she'd been slapped. Her face reddened with anger. "How… how dare you? You impertinent-"

"Impertinent!" Sunset repeated.

"-little upstart-"

"Upstart?!"

"-who do you think-"

"SHUT UP!" Yang yelled. "Both of you BE QUIET!" Flames flickered upon her body, dancing upon her shoulders and weaving through her hair as her eyes turned red. "We're on a mission with real lives at stake, and you're bickering like a couple of little brats! And over what, some stupid sparring match? We don't have time for this."

The forest was disturbed by shots, gunshots to the north that scattered the birds of the trees, the sounds of a variety of different weapons, some high-pitched and some low and thudding, echoing in wild fusillades through the trees.

"It's the other team leaders," Blake muttered. "They've engaged the grimm."

"We really don't have time for this," Yang growled. "Let's go!" she cried. "Blake, come on; let's get moving."

Blake picked up the pace so that the others had to run to keep up with her now as she darted ahead of them through the trees, doubling back less often and waiting for less time so that her fellow huntresses had to be faster to keep her in their sights.

Nevertheless, as they ran, Weiss was able to mutter out of the corner of her mouth, "And by the way, what did I do to you that you felt the need to inflict Jaune Arc upon me?"

You became my boyfriend's partner. "Inflict? I didn't inflict Jaune Arc on you; he just likes you." Celestia knows why.

"Well, make him stop; it's annoying," Weiss said.

"So? It's no less than you deserve for inflicting Cardin Winchester on us."

"Cardin doesn't do anything to you," Weiss replied.

"Where you can see," Sunset corrected her.

"What do you expect me to do about things that you can't see?"

"Lay down the law," Sunset suggested. "Be a leader."

"I am a leader, and I don't need to get into public fights with my teammates to prove it," Weiss replied haughtily. "Besides, why should I help you when I'm kept awake all night by Jaune Arc panting and grunting on the rooftop above my dorm room? What is he even doing up there?"

I have no idea. "Nothing that need concern you," Sunset lied magisterially.

Weiss sniffed. "Then Cardin is doing nothing that need concern you, whether I can see him or not."

Meanwhile, the shooting that they had heard reached a crescendo, even as its direction relative to the four huntresses changed, until, as the sounds of fighting were at their height, they were to the south of Sunset and the others. Checking her scroll, Sunset could see that for a brief moment, the bulbous crescent that marked the forefront of the horde flattened out as the grimm encountered resistance… but then the creatures of grimm began to surge forward once again, and the sounds of gunshots from the south began to grow weaker and less frequent.

"Fighting retreat," Yang said, sounding as much hopeful as she did certain. "They're falling back; it doesn't mean they're… it doesn't mean we left them to…"

"Our presence wouldn't have made much difference," Weiss declared. "We can do as much good for them by following the plan as we could by standing with them."

"I hope so," Yang muttered.

Blake also looked unconvinced, but she continued to lead the way nevertheless until she had brought them around the flank of the grimm horde and up behind it, to the rear where only those grimm who were the weakest, the wounded, and the least eager for battle, trailed off in a gradually diminishing trickle behind the main body. The grimm were smarter than anybody would have liked in some respects – like sending in cannon fodder to feel out the enemy ahead of the main force – but they were not smart enough to know to round up stragglers. Their rear was made up of one-armed beowolves and boarbatusks with cracked face masks and ursai with both forepaws missing stumping along on their hind legs. They followed at the rear of the horde, and no doubt if the grimm came across a village or if Vale had possessed no defences to keep them out, then these grimm would join in the slaughter with gleeful abandon, hunting down children and civilians with no aura to protect them. When there was the threat of fighting, however, they kept well to the back. They were cowards, in other words.

Still, having found them, it meant that they didn't need to look at the data from the early warning systems any more to track the rest of the grimm, who had left not only a tail of lesser grimm to follow but also carved a swathe through the forest as they smashed down trees and trampled undergrowth with gleeful abandon. Sunset and the others avoided engaging the weakest grimm but followed parallel to them as they reached the main body of the horde.

Those poor saps who had rushed off to take the grimm head on had done one thing to benefit Sunset and the others: they had drawn a great number of the grimm forward to engage or pursue them. This meant that the Alpha of Alphas, the commander who led them, who would at one time have stood in the very centre of the horde, surrounded by all the grimm under his command, was now closer to the rear, with only his weakest and most pathetic grimm behind him.

Mind you, it still looked like a lot of grimm. It might only have been a level one concentration - and on the low end of level one at that - but it still looked like a lot of grimm to Sunset. They were mostly beowolves, but ursai rose up amongst them like towers rising above the walls, looming over the smaller grimm that surrounded them. Boarbatusks ranged upon the flanks, while creeps growled as they waddled forwards. They were all headed forwards faster than their commander, leaving him behind. Sunset would have liked to have said 'leaving him vulnerable' but she couldn't quite bring herself to think it.

The leader of the horde, the commander of grimm, the alpha of alphas, was the largest beowolf that she had ever seen, as tall as the trees, with spines of bone each as large as a juvenile beowolf emerging out of his head and neck like the crest of a bony helmet. His black body was encrusted with plates of bleached bone like a suit of armour, and he was surrounded by bodyguards, each of them large enough to be an alpha in their own right. As Sunset and the others watched, crouched behind a fallen log, the commander reached into the midst of the horde, grabbed a creep out of the press and watched it squirm helplessly before he bit off its head and threw the rest aside.

"So, Sunset," Yang said, "do you have a plan, yet?"

Sunset was starting to wonder if even this much of the plan had been a stupid idea. Perhaps she ought to have contented herself with thinning out the numbers of the grimm a little bit. "No," she admitted.

"I… might know what to do," Weiss said, her voice diffident. "I've trained against large and armoured opponents. But… I'll need help to get past the bodyguards."

"I'll do it," Blake said. "In terms of raw strength, I'm the weakest of the four of us, but if I can lure at least some of the commander's bodyguards away, then the three of you will have an easier time taking care of him."

"Maybe, but what are you going to do about all those grimm once they're on your tail?" Yang asked.

"Try and lose them, then meet the rest of you back at the extraction point," Blake replied.

"But if you don't lose them, it's suicide," Yang pointed out.

"It's what I signed up for either way," Blake said. She looked at Weiss. "Can you kill that thing?"

Weiss gave a jerky nod of her head.

"Then it doesn't matter what happens to me," Blake declared. She crept away from the other three huntresses, putting some distance between them before she emerged, sword in one hand and cleaver in the other, into the light of the clearing that the grimm had made.

She advanced, a swagger in her step as she walked with one foot directly in front of the other like a catwalk model. Blake held her blades low on either side of her as she strode across the trampled ground towards the weak and feeble grimm that lagged behind the rest. A beowolf, one foreleg missing, spotted her, turning its head to cry out in alarm. Blake swept her katana up in front of her face, kissing the hilt of the black blade as she continued to walk forwards.

As some of the stronger grimm further forwards turned towards her, Blake broke into a run. Her arms pounded up and down, sword and cleaver in hand, as she charged towards the injured beowolf that had first spotted her, dodging its feeble attempt to swat her before she cut off its head. Blake changed direction, heaving south towards the commander and his guards, leaping up into the air to decapitate a forepaw-less ursa as she went. The injured and pathetic grimm scattered before her, but Blake killed three more as she charged before cutting down two mature and healthy beowolves who sought to stay her.

Blake's katana transformed fluidly into a pistol as, with her cleaver, she sliced another beowolf clean in half at the waist. She leapt into the air, shooting, her pistol flashing as her shots struck home against the armoured carapace of the commander of the grimm.

The great grimm roared, angered even though he was not hurt, and gestured with one massive paw at the impudent huntress who had dared assail him. For a moment, Blake stood as a half-dozen or more of the commander's bodyguards, more than half of them, broke from their protective huddle around their leader to charge upon all fours at Blake Belladonna.

Blake turned and ran, the beowolves in hot pursuit. She leapt over a fallen log as she broke eastwards. She tripped and fell forwards, sprawling out upon the ground. The mighty beowolves howled in triumph as they leapt upon her… but the Blake they leapt upon disappeared in a puff of black smoke as the real Blake was revealed some distance away, still running.

And the grimm continued to pursue, smaller grimm joining the larger bodyguards, until the commander had not only been stripped of half his guards but of his other grimm as well.

"Good luck, Blake," Yang whispered. She looked at Sunset. "Looks like it's up to us now."

Sunset nodded, silent as she leapt over the log that they were using as cover and showed herself to the grimm. Sadly, she feared that she didn’t look quite as cool doing it as Blake had just a few moments earlier, but she did manage to take out a boarbatusk with a magical blast from the palm of her hand, which was pretty cool, right?

The remaining bodyguards of the grimm commander began to turn their attention towards her. Sunset’s hands were surrounded by a green magical aura as a score of magical spears, the spears that she had used to wow the crowd during her duel with Pyrrha on Sunday, appeared around her.

Sunset gritted her teeth as the spears flew past her head, zooming forwards to strike the great and armoured beowolves who clustered about their fell captain. Some of them struck the beowolves. Some of them struck the ground around the beowolves and kicked up clouds of dust and dirt into the air. That dust and dirt obscured the beowolf guards for a moment before, roaring in anger, they charged out of the dust cloud with claws out and fangs bared.

Yang rushed to meet them. Her hair was on fire, her body was on fire, Yang was covered by flames, but the flames did not consume her as, with a great shout, she closed the distance between herself and the beowolves. The grimm commander was roaring and growling, probably ordering his grimm to kill the huntresses.

They tried, at least at first, but whatever their limitations against the great beowolves, Sunset’s magic and Yang’s power were able to make short work of any lesser creature who ventured too close. It was the guards they had to worry about, the ones so big and so tough they could have been alphas themselves. Sunset’s magic could make them growl, but it couldn’t kill them; Yang’s punches could knock them backwards but not reduce them to ashes. Yang was a burning dwarf surrounded by giants as she danced amongst the looming, larger beowolves, leaping away from the swipes of their paws, doing backflips as she went, before leaping back to deliver a flurry of punches to the chest.

A beowolf swung its paw at her. Yang counterpunched, catching the blow with her fist, but such was the strength of the grimm that Yang was soon using – forced to use – both her arms to brace herself against the grimm as it pressed down on her. A second beowolf lumbered forward to attack her from behind until a blast of magic from Sunset’s palm sent it flying.

Weiss sped forward, a silver streak, gliding on glyphs. She slid past the beowolf guards, preoccupied as they were with Yang and Sunset, and darted through the midst of the grimm, killing a few as she went but never stopping to do so. She was focussed on their objective, the giant grimm who led the horde, the one who directed them, the one whose death would, hopefully, reduce these grimm to squabbling monsters bereft of purpose.

He was without his guards, and his army was engaged to the front. All that was left was him.

Only the biggest beowolf Sunset had ever seen.

She had little enough attention to spare for Weiss’ fight with the grimm commander. She was a little preoccupied trying to avoid being eaten by the guards or anyone else, but out of the corners of her eyes, she could see flashes of white and silver in the air, little blasts of fire and ice, she could hear the great grimm howl as Weiss hit it from all sides.

Sunset fended off a beowolf with a couple of magical blasts. They seemed to be doing okay. Nobody had died yet, and-

Weiss cried out as the great beowolf caught her with one enormous paw, slamming her into the ground with crater-inducing force. He kept her pinned there as the commander bent down, his fangs larger than Weiss’ head as he snarled into her face.

There was a flash of cobalt blue before the alpha of alphas was flung upwards into the air with a startled howl, arms and legs flailing.

“Yang! Sunset!” Weiss cried, as she too ascended, leaping from white glyph to white glyph as she climbed a stairway constantly in conjuration. She got above the grimm commander, and just as she had with Sunset, she descended on him from above.

Yang was hurled upwards by another glyph of cobalt blue, and as Weiss shot down, Yang shot up, striking the grimm in the small of the back with both her fists.

Just as Sunset hit it with the strongest magical blast she could muster.

The grimm commander cried out as he was consumed in light… and then turned to a cloud of ashes, drifting away in the morning air.

Sunset panted with effort as Yang and Weiss landed on the ground… still right in the middle of the horde.

We didn’t really think this part through, did we? Sunset thought, as all around the grimm began to howl in outrage.

A beowolf was flung backwards by an invisible hand even before the whine of Bullhead engines presaged the airship’s descent. Professor Goodwitch stood in the doorway, and with a swish of her riding crop, she sent another pair of beowolves flying. “All of you, get in!” she snapped.

They scrambled for the airship, which began to rise again as soon as the three of them were safely aboard, rising beyond the range of the grimm and their pursuit, leaving them to do nothing but shake their claws in impotent fury and howl at their escaping quarry.

As the young huntresses watched from the central compartment, the grimm had already started fighting amongst themselves.

“We did it,” Sunset muttered. “We did it. We broke the horde.”

“And would have lost your lives in the process if I hadn’t been on my way to assist you already,” Professor Goodwitch declared.

“We’re very grateful, Professor,” Weiss assured her.

“We prefer our students to live to see graduation,” Professor Goodwitch informed them all. She paused for a moment. “That said, your plan was… conceptually sound, and undeniably bravely executed.”

“Blake,” Yang asked. “What about Blake, Professor?”

Professor Goodwitch’s expression became pinched with pain, and she did not reply.

Yang scowled. “God, no.”

The Bullhead carried them back to the extraction point, where there was little to do but wait for the others to show up.

Nothing to do but sit in the Bullhead while a deathly silence prevailed amongst them.

Sunset sat with her legs dangling out of the airship, watching and waiting. She didn’t move when Weiss came and sat down beside her.

“The fact that Blake… didn’t mean it was a bad plan,” Weiss said.

“Hmm,” Sunset said, because she didn’t need validation from Weiss Schnee of all people.

“And it seems that we completed our objective,” Weiss continued. “The grimm horde is beginning to disperse throughout the forest.”

“Why are you trying to make me feel better?” Sunset asked calmly.

“Who says that it’s you I’m trying to convince?” Weiss asked. “Perhaps I just don’t want to think it was for nothing.”

Sunset didn’t reply. Ruby would have said that it wasn’t for nothing because they saved the city. That sort of thing was harder for Sunset to accept.

It’s not like I knew her.

But she was under my leadership nonetheless.

Dear Princess Celestia, I got someone killed today.

Gradually, the other team leaders staggered out of the forest and into the clearing where the Bullheads awaited them. Some of them were angry at the absence of Sunset, Yang, and Weiss, but Professor Goodwitch appeared to explain everything to them, quietly, because they soon stopped complaining. By five minutes to twelve, everyone had returned to the rendezvous point… except Blake.

“We should go and look for her,” Yang said.

“That would not be wise, Miss Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“We can’t just leave her out there!” Yang demanded.

“Search and rescue will be carried out by-”

Professor Goodwitch was interrupted by none other than Blake Belladonna, looking very frazzled and close to exhaustion, who staggered out of the woods and dropped to her knees. A sigh escaped her. “Hey guys,” she murmured.

Yang let out a loud and joyous whoop as she rushed over to Blake, scooping the smaller girl up in her arms and carrying her back to the Bullhead. Professor Goodwitch had a smile on her face which she did not bother to disguise.

“Ten out of ten for valour, the four of you,” she said, as she walked back to the airship. “Five out of ten for sense, and that is me being generous.”

As the airships took off, Weiss sat down beside Sunset. “You had no idea how to get out of there, did you?” she asked.

“I knew that Professor Goodwitch would arrive to rescue us,” Sunset replied.

Weiss snorted. “Of course you did.” She was silent for a moment. “Regardless of what you may think of me, I’m not just some dilettante waiting until I can get a job at my father’s company. I aim to be a huntress, and a good one too. So take me seriously in the future.”

“Fine,” Sunset said. “Next time, I’ll kick your ass in the sparring ring.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose a little at that. “Hmph,” she said. “I suppose that I could talk to Cardin and impress upon him that his behaviour reflects upon the whole team, whether the team is present or not.”

“You should.”

“And I will,” Weiss agreed. “Provided that you talk to Jaune Arc and impress upon him that my ceiling is not an appropriate place for his… obscene behaviour.”

Sunset looked at her. “‘Obscene behaviour'?”

“He’s grunting and panting all night,” Weiss reminded her. “Russell finds it very amusing in a distinctly masculine way.”

Sunset winced. “I… fine, you talk to Cardin, I’ll talk to Jaune. Is it a deal?” she held out her hand.

Weiss stared at Sunset’s hand as though it was dirty. Well, it probably was dirty, but that wasn’t why Weiss was staring at it.

Sunset’s ears flattened downwards a little.

But then Weiss reached out, and took Sunset’s hand.

“Deal.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: So, this chapter has been completely rewritten from top to bottom, mostly because I didn't like it the first time. This version gives more space to do something with Blake and Yang.

Jaunedice (Rewritten)

Jaunedice

Jaune regarded Sunset with a mixture of envy and relief.

Envy because, well, who wouldn't be envious after everything what she – and Yang, and Weiss and Blake – had just done? The four of them were the talk of the freshman class and beyond for what they'd done in the Emerald Forest that morning. At lunch, one of the upperclassmen – Velvet Scarlatina, a second year who was being forced to retake Modern History with the first-years – had come up to their table to congratulate Yang and Sunset on what they'd managed to achieve.

They'd taken down an apex alpha beowolf, and in doing so, they had stopped a grimm horde, and the fact that it was only a little one didn't change the fact that it was a horde. And they had stopped it. And they were only first-years!

Sunset certainly seemed cognisant of the scale of her achievement. She had barely stopped preening since she returned from the forest. She had tasted success and apparently found it very sweet indeed.

Yes, Jaune envied her… but at the same time, he was relieved that it was only the team leaders who had been deployed to combat the grimm threat and not the whole team.

Jaune was sitting at one of the two desks set against the dorm room wall; this meant that he could look at Sunset on her bed without getting in the way of anyone else. He felt tired. He always felt tired these days; he knew that he wasn't getting enough sleep.

That morning he hadn't been able to go on a run with Pyrrha because he'd slept like a log until every other member of the team had been washed and dressed and Sunset had had to toss him physically out of bed and onto the floor in order to wake him up before the whole team missed breakfast. He remembered yesterday morning, and the way that he had nearly collapsed. If he had been sent into the Emerald Forest the same thing might have happened again, his weariness catching up with him, maybe at the same time as the grimm did. But as he imagined what might have happened if he'd been there, Jaune found that it wasn't the possibility of his own death at the hands of the grimm that concerned him most. Jaune's gaze flickered from Sunset to Pyrrha, who was sitting on her own bed watching Sunset.

He remembered the way that she had looked during her duel with Sunset – in all her fights in the sparring ring, but especially against Sunset – so strong, so powerful… and so kind, too, the way that she had rushed back to him yesterday when she thought there might be something wrong with him. If they had been out in the forest together then Pyrrha would have protected him, even at the cost of her own safety. And that was the problem: if she'd been hurt or worse because he wasn't strong enough to stand alongside her then… he couldn't bear so much as the thought of that.

That was why he had to get stronger.

"It was a pretty good plan," Ruby acknowledged. "But-"

"But it was also pretty stupid at the same time, yes, I know," Sunset said. "And I want you to know that I didn't intentionally put Yang-"

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Ruby said; like Jaune she was sitting at the desks instead of on her bed. Her chair was reversed, and she was leaning forward with her arms resting upon the back.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "No?"

Ruby shook her head. "We're huntsmen. Risks like that are part of what we accept."

Sunset looked at Ruby for a moment in silence. "You know, I can see why your sister worries about you."

Ruby looked surprised to hear it. "Yang… worries about me?"

"She thinks you need someone to rein in your self-sacrificing tendencies," Sunset said. "I got us into trouble because I hadn't thought about how we were going to get out once we'd killed the commander, but you just wouldn't care about that, would you?"

"Sometimes we have to make sacrifices," Ruby declared, sounding much older than her fifteen years. "There are bigger things in the world than ourselves, and we have to be willing not just to fight for them but also… to die for them."

"You are correct, of course," Pyrrha murmured. "But that you can speak of it so calmly… it speaks well of your courage, Ruby, but at the same time… it troubles me."

"You're not the only one," Sunset muttered.

Ruby frowned. "If you think I'm right then what's the problem?"

"The fact that we don't want to lose you," Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha chuckled very softly. "Perhaps… perhaps that is all it is." She got up, and crossed the room to where Ruby sat. Pyrrha smiled down at her as she reached out, and ran one hand through Ruby's hair. "One so young and fair as you should not court death with such eagerness."

"I'm not courting anyone," Ruby replied. "I don't want to die, I just… I don't see the point in pretending that I feel differently to how I do."

"Here's the thing about sacrifice," Sunset lectured. "You can only do it once. Sure, you can sacrifice yourself to save the village, but you won't be around to save it again from the next lot of grimm that show up." She hesitated. "Listen, Ruby, admitting that I have faults is not easy for me so I'm only going to say this once: if Professor Goodwitch hadn't shown up when she did me and Yang and Weiss would all be dead right now because I hadn't come up with an escape plan. I should have come up with that plan before we set off, and if I couldn't I should have just joined the others taking the horde head on."

"But you wouldn't have stopped it," Ruby replied.

"But we would have lived," Sunset insisted.

"And who wouldn't have because the horde kept moving?" Ruby asked.

“No one,” Sunset said. “Because at the end of the day the Defence Forces and the huntsman and the navy would have taken care of it and I was an idiot to forget that. I wanted to play the hero, but I should have played it safe instead.”

"As huntsmen, we can't always afford to play it safe."

"Judging by what Professor Goodwitch had to say, I think as team leader it might be my job to play it safe," Sunset said. She climbed off her bed and, like Pyrrha, crossed the room towards Ruby. She put her hand on Ruby's shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. "Because I've got your life in my hands, and I… I mean to take good care of it."

"I don't want to die!" Ruby protested. "And I don't want you to think that… I'm glad you came back safe," she said, grabbing Sunset's arm with both hands as she smiled up at her partner. "I meant what I said, to you and Blake on the night before Initiation: I hope that we'll all live happily ever after. But dying doesn't scare me, and I'd rather give my life than fail in my mission."

"I'm sure you would," Sunset said softly, as she knelt down in front of Ruby. "I just hope that you choose a tale with a happier ending than the Song of Olivia to model yourself after. Or at least listen to your Roland when she talks sense."

Ruby chuckled. "I'll try."

"You have the heart of a true huntress, beyond all doubt," said Pyrrha, as she rubbed Ruby's back with one hand. "But that same heart, the light that shines within you is a…" Pyrrha glanced down at Sunset. "It is a gift to the world, one you should not be so eager to deprive the world of, or your friends."

"I'm not!" Ruby insisted. "You guys don't understand what I'm saying."

"We do," Sunset replied. "We're just still a little less than happy about it." She rose to her feet. "But fine, we won't harangue you any further."

"I think," Ruby said, "that the reason we get put on teams is so that we don't have to choose; so that we can make it through because we've got each other."

Jaune felt ill, sick and sick at heart of this reminder of his own inadequacy. As he was now, how was he supposed to help any of them to survive?

He got up from his seat and started towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sunset demanded, in a voice drained of all the affection that it had previously contained when addressing Ruby.

Jaune froze in place. "Out," he said.

"Onto the rooftop again?"

Jaune turned around to face Sunset. "How do you-"

"Weiss complained about the noise, apparently she can hear you up there night after night," Sunset informed him. "She thinks that you're… " she glanced at Ruby. "Doing something that it would be inappropriate to mention in this company."

"Ugh!" Jaune cried, revolted. "That's not it!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Sunset said dryly. "But whatever you're actually doing it's going to stop. Stop disturbing her sleep, and stop trying to ask her out, have some self-respect for Celestia's sake."

"I haven't asked Weiss out in a week," Jaune retorted. I'm trying to get stronger so that I can be worthy of her.

"I'm glad to hear that, too, keep it up," Sunset snapped. "And stay off the roof."

"Why should I?"

"Because I told you to," Sunset said. "Because I made an agreement with Weiss that is going to get Cardin off our backs, don't you want that?"

"Yes, but…" Jaune hesitated, wondering how he could explain that there would be no point in being protected from Cardin if he couldn't train to improve his skills.

"Look, I don't know what it is that you're really doing up on that roof and I don't care," Sunset snapped. "I have made an agreement with Weiss and if I can't keep it then I look weak. That's not happening. Furthermore, in case you haven't noticed I have been carrying you through all the classes you suck at – you’re welcome for those essays, by the way-"

"I never asked you to do my homework for me," Jaune snapped.

"You weren't doing it yourself, were you?" Sunset yelled. "Inaction, let me remind you, for which I am on the hook just as much as you are. And it's getting to the point where you're even starting to fall behind in the classes you originally showed some promise in, and I can't carry you through those. I can't write your essays on Plant Science or Fieldcraft, because I'm struggling there myself. So sit down, pen to paper, and start on that essay for Doctor Oobleck-"

"Why?" Jaune demanded. "How is any of that going to help me stop… how is any of that going to help me become a huntsman? How is any of that going to help me become a part of this team?"

"You're already a part of this team, Jaune," Ruby said.

Jaune gave her a weak and sickly smile. "Thanks, Ruby, but we all know that's not true," he said, as he opened the door and stepped outside.

"Don't you walk away from me when I'm-" Sunset began, before the slam of the door cut her off.

Jaune's steps quickened as he walked away, until he was running.

"-when I'm yelling at you!" Sunset finished as the door slammed closed. She growled wordlessly. No way am I going to let him give Weiss cause to think that I can't handle my own team. "That…" she started towards the door herself.

"Wait," Pyrrha called to her, her voice making Sunset stop in her tracks. "Please," Pyrrha continued. "Wait a moment. Ruby, what is Jaune doing up on the roof?"

Sunset turned around to see that Ruby was looking up at Pyrrha. "I… he doesn't want anyone to know," she said plaintively.

"I understand," Pyrrha agreed. "But I'm afraid we may be a little past that now."

"I'll say," Sunset muttered.

Ruby looked at Sunset. "Did you have to be so hard on him?"

"I could turn that around and ask why you two go so easy on him?" Sunset responded. "I'm keeping his grades afloat and that protects me; it means I won't get into any trouble because one of my team isn't turning in their essays, but I'm not doing him any favours by it and you're not doing anyone on this team any favours by pretending that he doesn't have issues."

"I know," Pyrrha conceded. "And I should have acted before now." She looked down at Ruby. "Please, Ruby, what does Jaune do on the roof?"

Ruby squirmed uncomfortably. "He's… he's training," she admitted.

"Training?" Pyrrha repeated. "By himself?"

Ruby nodded.

"That explains the books," Sunset murmured. "It doesn't seem to be helping him much."

"I have to say that isn't too surprising, with nobody to learn from," Pyrrha said softly. "Will you both excuse me for a little while?"

Sunset stepped away from the door. "You want to make him your responsibility, be my guest."

Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you," she said. To Ruby, she added, "Thank you for telling me. You did nothing wrong by it, and Jaune will understand that." She walked to the door, opened it, and closed it gently behind her as she stepped out into the corridor.

Sunset sighed as she ran both hands through her hair. "I hope she has the steel to take him in hand and doesn't lose heart," she said. "Anyway, I need to get that essay for Doctor Oobleck done myself." She pulled out a chair at the desk, and reached for her bag.

"Hey, Sunset?"

Sunset looked up at Ruby. "Yeah?"

"If I stopped doing my homework would you do it for me?" Ruby said, with a cheeky grin.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "There are limits to the tolerance that even you can inspire," she declared. "However, I am willing to lend you a hand, so what's the issue?"

"The issue is everything," Ruby groaned. "I… I have no idea how to handle this essay for Doctor Oobleck."

Sunset scooted her chair across the room until she was sitting next to Ruby. "The one about the repercussions of the Faunus Rights Revolution?"

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I know that we have to talk about faunus rights, but-"

"No, you don't," Sunset said, cutting her off. "Everyone is going to talk about faunus rights because it's obvious, but if you want to impress Doctor Oobleck and get a top grade you should do what I did and write about depopulation and grimm incursions."

She had written about faunus rights in Jaune's essay, because that kind of obvious thinking was doubtless exactly what Doctor Oobleck would expect from Jaune Arc.

Ruby blinked. "Come again?"

Sunset rocked back in her chair, resting it upon its back legs as she folded her arms. "Right, so you know about the Great War, right?"

"Uh… kinda?"

It occurred to Sunset Shimmer that one of the disadvantages of being admitted to Beacon two years early on the basis of your enviable combat prowess might be that you missed two years of academic study.

It also occurred to her that this might explain Ruby's atrocious grades.

"How many classes have you felt as though you didn't know the basics that the course started out with?"

"Um… most of them? Not Professor Port's class, but-"

"You should have said something sooner," Sunset said, although it also occurred to her that she, Sunset, could have asked Ruby what the issue with her grades was sooner.

And perhaps Ruby just didn't want to admit that she had a problem. Sunset knew the taste of that dish well enough; pride could drive you to do any number of things no matter how foolish or… unhelpful.

She lifted up her legs; her chair flopped forwards with her in it. "I'm afraid it might be too late for quarter-terms, but we'll see if we can't get you up to speed by midterm exams."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm going to tutor you up to level, obviously," Sunset said. She was, after all, a genius and a genius with consistently high grades. How hard could it be to teach Ruby, so long as she wanted to learn?

"Really?"

Sunset nodded. "I'm not as gifted with a weapon as you, but I know a little about what it's like to be so talented at this one thing that you get put on the fast track, and find that you have to scramble to catch up with everything that isn't that one thing."

"You mean your semblance?" Ruby asked.

"Yes," Sunset answered. "My semblance, exactly. Now, my teacher was very kind and patient, and she spent her time helping me learn everything, not just my semblance but everything that I'd missed. I don't think the teachers here are going to be as considerate, but I'll see what I can do to pick up the slack."

Ruby smiled. "Your teacher sounds like a lovely person. You must have been pretty close."

Sunset fell silent. A lovely person. Sure, I thought so at the time. "We were, once," she murmured. "Very close, but then…" Then she betrayed me, and tried to steal away the very dreams that she had nurtured in me.

"Sunset?" Ruby prompted her.

"I… let's just say that there's a reason I left home," Sunset said gruffly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Sorry," Ruby murmured. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know," Sunset replied, "but… let's start with this essay, and why it is a colossally stupid idea to fight two colossal wars back to back."

It was Sunset's opinion that, as important as it might have been for the faunus themselves, the more important consequence of the Faunus Rights Revolution was to cement the territorial losses of the Great War and make it impossible for humanity to retake the lands lost to the grimm during that conflict. Rather than focus on rebuilding after the war, Mistral had decided to pander to the worst elements of its population and indulge a quixotic attempt to prove that it was still a military Great Power; and worse it had abused the letter of the Vytal Treaty to force Mantle and Vale to aid them in the endeavour. To the losses of the Great War had been added the casualties inflicted by wily faunus, whose troops had been seasoned in the Great War while many of the human forces were untested conscripts.

"General Lagune's army was four times the size of the faunus forces at Fort Castle," Sunset explained. "But what those numbers conceal is that the faunus army was made of experienced veterans, while Lagune was leading kids your age given pikes and muskets and marched off to war because by that point they were the only ones left. In the Faunus War, you were an old soldier if you were my age. And then Lagune's army was destroyed outright, and, well, there was no one left to march to war. So you see, that's why we're in the state we're in right now. That's why the kingdoms are so small, that's why huntsmen are always on the back foot against the grimm that are absolutely everywhere, and that's why expansion efforts have always failed: because mankind nearly tore itself to pieces over twenty years, and the population still hasn't fully recovered yet."

She paused, and she couldn't help but think of Pyrrha's hopes, her own ambitions beside which Sunset's were cast into shadow. Thus placed in their historical context they seemed quixotic in the extreme, hopeless fantasies besides which the dream of ascension or a crown seemed grounded. Humanity could retake the world? Defeat the grimm for good and all? They hadn't managed it yet and Pyrrha, while good, wasn't good enough to make up for all the unborn shadows who should have fought by her side but never would.

"The point is," she said. "That this is why we have to fight, because y-" she stopped herself from saying 'your ancestors'. "Because our ancestors fought too much. Actually, no, the point is that if you put that in your essay Doctor Oobleck will think you're really clever. Do you understand?"

"Sort of."

Sunset picked up a pen from off Ruby's desk. "I'll write your introduction for you, and then you can make a go of the rest."

The moonlight shone through the library windows, bathing both Weiss and Flash in silvery light as they sat at a table together.

Weiss was glad of the moonlight, because otherwise the library was very dark. It was late, after dinner time, and although there was no strict curfew for students at Beacon they were past the point at which most students bothered to visit the library.

Weiss had been spending a fair number of her evenings in the library lately; it was easier to work in here, where the absence of other students produced a crypt-like silence, than in her dorm room where Jaune Arc's incessant huffing and puffing on the roof above provided a constant soundtrack to the nights. Sunset Shimmer might think that Weiss hadn't done enough to restrain Cardin Winchester, but Weiss thought she was to be congratulated for the fact that Cardin hadn't climbed up onto the roof and thrown Jaune off it already for his constant disturbing of the peace.

Notwithstanding the agreement that she had made with Sunset, Weiss had come to the library again tonight because this was an important essay due for history, and she didn't entirely trust Sunset to keep her word. Weiss had had a word with Cardin, of course, because a Schnee did keep her word even if a member of the lower orders did not, but if she had the option to do her homework in peace then she was going to take it.

Of course she was not alone; Flash was with her, but then he was also capable of working quietly.

And there were advantages to working alone with someone else; without him there the silent emptiness of the library might have felt impressive, instead of just what she needed to get her work done.

"How was it out there, if you don't mind me asking?"

Weiss looked up from her textbook. Flash was looking at her, and in the moonlight his blue eyes looked particularly bright.

"You mean in the forest?" Weiss asked.

Flash nodded.

"You were there yourself just a few weeks ago," Weiss reminded him.

"I know," Flash replied, "but still… how was it?"

Weiss hesitated for a moment. She hadn't talked about the leadership exercise with her team. Cardin and Russell hadn't seemed particularly interested, and it seemed that Flash had been waiting for a moment alone with her. She pursed her lips together. "We were overconfident," she admitted. "If it hadn't been for Professor Goodwitch…" She left the rest unspoken.

Flash heard it loud and clear regardless, or seemed to. "Seriously?"

Weiss nodded curtly. "The grimm were numerous, and very strong."

"That isn't how the rest of the school seems to see it," Flash said.

"The rest of the school wasn't there," Weiss said, in a voice as sharp as the tip of Myrtenaster.

Flash bowed his head for a moment, and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Weiss said quickly. "It isn't your fault, it's just… I have talents, and I am well aware of the fact. I am a talented huntress, and I consider myself a fair singer, too, and I have no problem being praised for those talents. But I'm well aware that even if I were as poor a huntress as… as Jaune Arc, there would still be those who would tell me I was more skilled than Pyrrha Nikos because my name was Schnee and they sought my favour, or more likely my father's favour through me. Professor Goodwitch was right to grade us five out of ten, and I don't need flatterers to tell me otherwise. Just like I don't need to be given victories in the sparring ring."

"You're talking about Sunset, now," Flash said.

"She didn't show herself in her full glory against me," Weiss declared. "Perhaps I would have won anyway, but I don't know because she held back. Did you know that she was hiding so much power?" she demanded.

"No," Flash said emphatically. "I had no idea. At Canterlot… she was average in combat. She was always gifted academically, only Twilight was smarter than her, but her combat skills were middle of the pack."

Weiss leaned back in her chair. "Why?" she asked. "Why hide her true strength for so long, only to reveal it now?"

"I don't know why she'd hide it," Flash replied. "Sunset… I never would have thought that she was the type of person to hide anything that made her stand out. Quite the reverse. Which means, since I can't tell why she hid in the first place, I can't tell you why she stopped hiding either."

"Perhaps," Weiss mused, "It's simply that her semblance is so incredibly powerful that she knew that it would inspire fear in others."

"Does it… are you afraid of her?" Flash asked, his gentle tone infused with disbelief.

"I… am a little nervous," Weiss admitted. "What if she joined the White Fang? Think of how much damage she could do."

"So faunus aren't allowed to be gifted in case they join the White Fang?" Flash replied, disapproval evident in his tone.

"We’re not talking about any faunus, we’re talking about a faunus with a chip on her shoulder and a temper," Weiss explained. "You're from Atlas, you know about the incessant attacks that the White Fang has waged against our kingdom, against the SDC, against my family."

"Yes," Flash said, his voice sounding as though his throat had constricted a little. "I do know all about that."

Weiss was very still for a moment, as she understood why he sounded that way. "Who did you lose?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

"My father," he admitted, "in the Crystal City Bombings, three years ago."

Weiss slid her hands across the table towards him. "Oh, Gods… I'm so sorry." She took his hand in hers. "But then… how is it that you could… "

"The White Fang aren't the faunus," Flash replied, even as he did not pull his hand away from hers. "I don't allow myself to forget that. Being at Canterlot… my mother didn't approve of there being so many faunus students there, but it made it easier to remember that it was the White Fang, not the faunus, who killed my father, because I could just look across the cafeteria and see faunus who would never do anything like that, because their souls wouldn't allow it."

Weiss glanced away, as she remembered Laberna, the faunus nanny who had taken care of her when she was young. "When the White Fang abandoned non-violent protest, my father dismissed all of his faunus household staff," she explained. "I… I haven't seen a faunus between then and when I came to Beacon. Perhaps if I had… I wouldn't have been so quick to make myself look bad in comparison to you."

"You didn't," Flash assured her. "It's not your fault."

Weiss smiled, if only for a moment. "You're very kind," she said quietly. So kind, in fact, that she was finding it increasingly hard to believe that he had broken up with Sunset Shimmer on the grounds of her race.

But that was his business, not hers. He had shown her himself; he didn't have to reveal to her all his secrets on top of that.

Weiss hadn't come to Beacon to find a romantic partner, but if she had… she thought she could probably have done worse than the young man sitting in front of her.

But she had not come to Beacon to find a romantic partner.

And right now she had work to do.

Cardin Winchester stood at the window and brooded on the injustice of the world.

At least insofar as it was directed at Cardin Winchester.

Injustice was not a thing with which Cardin had been much acquainted in his life prior to coming to Beacon; as the son and heir of the elite Winchester family he had known that success awaited him in whatever walk of life he chose to make a career in. His grandfather was the Lord Chief Justice of the kingdom, his father was Permanent Secretary to the Treasury. The Winchesters were thoroughly establishment and eminently respectable, and throughout his young life Cardin had seen how people respected that, responded to it, opened doors for it and for him. The Winchester connections had gotten him through Combat School, after he had failed the exam in Dust Science; his father had had a word with someone on the exam board and the results had been checked again, found to be over-harsh, and corrected to a more appropriate result.

He had come to Beacon with no idea that such a pleasant state of affairs would not continue.

Instead he had been rudely awakened, and given the largest taste of injustice that he had ever suffered in his life to date.

It seemed at times that Beacon was a place established solely for the torment of Cardin Winchester; a place where everything he wanted, everything that he deserved, was paraded in front of him and then snatched away to be granted instead to someone else, someone less deserving, someone less than he in all respects.

He had wanted to be a team leader, because if nothing else it was the kind of thing that looked good on your CV, demonstrating, as one might guess, leadership skills; that proud title had been denied to him and bestowed upon Weiss Schnee, a girl half his size and with arms like straws. Cardin would have suspected that Weiss had simply been more successful at utilising her name and connections if it weren't for the contemptible rag-bag of animals and nonentities upon whom Professor Ozpin had seen fit to bestow the other leadership positions.

He had wanted Pyrrha Nikos for his partner, because who wouldn't want the honour of the Champion of Mistral fighting at their side? Instead that honour had gone to Jaune Arc, a useless runt who barely seemed conscious of what honour was done to him, of how lucky he was, or how unworthy he was even to be at Beacon, let alone be partnered up with the Invincible Girl.

He had wanted a reputation for strength, resilience and competence. Instead, he got the impression he was lagging in the bottom half of the combat rankings while a faunus, a faunus, a sort of talking horse, dazzled all Remnant with her astonishing semblance. Her astonishing, a little unnerving semblance. How did a faunus become so powerful? By what right did she take so much… so much that should have been his.

Sunset Shimmer, along with Weiss and Yang and Blake, was the talk of the school right now. Everyone was talking about what they'd done in the forest that morning. That should have been him! It should have been Cardin Winchester leading a team, Cardin Winchester breaking the grimm horde, Cardin Winchester earning the renown that was his due.

The renown that Sunset Shimmer was taking from him.

Sunset and Jaune, he hated them both, and the small revenges he inflicted on them for their great slights gave him little satisfaction. But even that small pleasure was to be denied him now by the word of Weiss Schnee, who presumed to command him like one of her father's faunus lackeys upon the word of an actual faunus. Sunset thought to put a leash on him, on him! On Cardin Winchester. If only there was something he could do, some way in which he could remind them that he was Cardin Winchester, and not to be taken lightly.

And then, as he stood at the open window, Cardin began to hear the voices of Jaune and Pyrrha drifting down from the rooftop above. He was about to shut the window in disgust… when he realised that he was hearing something to his advantage.

A slow smile spread across Cardin's face. Oh, yes; he had that little upstart now.

Jaune sat on the roof, his head bowed, his legs wrapped around his knees.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard.

Why was it so difficult for him? Why was he so far below everyone else? Pyrrha had told him that he had inherited the strength of his ancestors, but why wasn’t there any sign of it? His father, his grandfather, they’d all made it this far. They’d all become huntsmen, become heroes. Why was he failing at something they’d achieved so easily?

Why was he so much less than everyone else in the world?

What was he supposed to do now?

His team leader hated him and thought that he was pathetic; his partner and his other teammate pitied him. The girl of his dreams couldn’t stand him. He was a failure. This was his dream… but it seemed as far away from him as the stars.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha emerged onto the rooftop, her head turning this way and that as she looked for him. She was dressed in all her raiment of war, her gilded armour glimmering in the moonlight, the circlet shining bright upon her brow.

She looked… magnificent. There was no other word to describe her that could do it justice. To call her beautiful would ignore her strength, to call her strong would ignore her beauty. She was a goddess of war, especially compared to a mere mortal like himself.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune asked. “What are you doing here, and dressed like that?”

Pyrrha turned to face him. She smiled, and there was a little relief in her voice as she said, “I thought that I might find you here. I’m glad I did.” She offered out her hand to him.

Jaune hesitated. Then said, “I can get up by myself.” He scrambled onto his feet without any help from her. He could do that much, at least. “What are you doing here?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Ruby… she tells me that you train up here,” she said.

Jaune nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Or at least I used to.”

“I’m sure that Weiss only has a problem with it because of how long you’re here. Nobody is in bed at this early hour,” Pyrrha said gently. She walked to the edge of the rooftop, and then across it, counting her steps as she went. “Yes,” she murmured. “This will do.”

Jaune narrowed his eyes. “This will do… for what?”

“For your training,” Pyrrha said, as she turned to face him. “I understand that you want to improve, but training by yourself… I’m afraid that you’re just ingraining bad habits. That’s why I came here, to help you. You’ve chosen a good spot where we won’t be disturbed, and with… instruction, you won’t need to spend so long here that you’re exhausted come morning.”

Jaune stared at her. “You… you want to be my teacher?”

“I’m your partner and I want to help you,” Pyrrha clarified. She turned away, her ponytail swaying behind her as she moved. She stood upon the edge of the roof, looking out towards the emerald lights that glowed at the top of Beacon Tower. In the darkness it looked so very far away, completely out of reach, those green lights the only thing truly visible amidst the darkness.

“Jaune, nobody is born great,” she reminded him, “some are born with more potential than others, but we achieve that potential through hard work and by being open to the assistance of others. I never would have made it to where I am without the… the support of my mother and my teachers.” She looked back at him. “I want to help you the way that so many others have helped me, to help you realise that potential that I see in you-”

“Pyrrha, stop,” Jaune said. “You don’t need to pretend.”

Pyrrha looked puzzled, and a little hurt as well. “I don’t understand.”

“What potential?” Jaune demanded.

“Your aura,” Pyrrha told him. “It burns as bright as an inferno, I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life. That is not nothing, it means something, I know it does. You have a destiny, Jaune, I’m certain of it. Please don’t turn your back on it after coming this far. Don’t lose hope after working so hard-”

“I haven’t worked for anything!” Jaune cried, simply to stop her words cutting him like knives. “I didn’t go to Combat School and I certainly didn’t apprentice under my father. I faked my way in here. I got my hands on some fake transcripts to make it look like I was eligible, and I lied every step of the way: to the admissions office, to Professor Ozpin… to you.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t deserve your help.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. Her voice, when it came, held nothing of condemnation. “And yet I offer it to you nonetheless.”

Her kindness, her generosity, felt like salt upon the wound. “Well, I don’t want it!” Jaune snapped. “I’m supposed to be your partner, not your project or… or the millstone round your neck. If I can’t stand as your equal then… then I’m nothing.” He turned away from her. He could feel his eyes welling up with tears. “You should go,” he said.

“Jaune-”

“Go, please,” Jaune begged. “Leave me alone.”

He glanced at her. He could see the hurt in her eyes, for all that she was trying not to show it on her face. It made him feel sick to his stomach but… but there was nothing he could do about it. He had said his piece, it could not be unsaid.

“I… I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “I… I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodnight, Jaune.” She walked away slowly, head bowed, her ponytail drooping down her back.

He wanted to go after her, he wanted to apologise, he wanted to call out to her and admit what an idiot he was. But he could not. His feet were stone, his mouth was stitched up shut. Jaune himself was turned to ice. Guilt chained him to this place and gagged him silent.

He was her equal or he was nothing. And if that made him nothing… then why should nothing speak? What voice had nothing? What words could pass between a goddess and a man?

He remained there, mired in guilt, as the sound of Pyrrha’s footsteps died away.

What am I going to do?

“Gutsy move there, Jaune,” Cardin declared, slapping Jaune on the back so hard that he staggered forwards a few feet.

“C-Cardin!” Jaune exclaimed. “What are you…”

"Weiss complained about the noise, apparently she can hear you up there night after night."

Oh, no.

“I heard everything from the window of my dorm room,” Cardin said. His face momentarily assumed a stern affect. “You know lying on official documentation for personal gain is fraud, right? You could get prison time for that.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

Cardin smirked. “The real question is what are you going to do… for me?”

It was at that moment that Jaune understood just how badly he had messed this up.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Another fairly comprehensive rewrite; this time it was to correct the lack of Jaune in his own story arc, which as written is largely about Sunset doing things to him or for him. One of the goals of rewriting this part of the story is to give Jaune some more agency.

The Sunset Strategy (Rewritten)

The Sunset Strategy

Sunset crept down the corridor. It was night, and there weren't many windows anyway. Sunset didn't dare use the torch in her pocket for fear of being seen, and she wasn't one of those faunus who had excellent vision in the dark, so instead, she had cast a night vision spell on herself to give her eyes some ability to penetrate the darkness. Even if it did make everything look a bit green.

Still, it was better than risking discovery by using the torch. She would probably only get one shot at this, so she had to get it done.

Problem: Jaune's transcripts were fake, and he obviously had no faith in the ability of those fakes to stand up to scrutiny; if he had, then he wouldn't have been acting like Cardin's lapdog under threat of exposure.

Solution: Well, now, that was the trick, wasn't it?

The best solution would probably have been to replace the fake transcripts with transcripts that looked a little less fake, but that required skills that Sunset didn't have – and acting like she had those skills anyway had gotten her into a bit of trouble at Canterlot – and if Jaune had them then he would have produced better transcripts in the first place, so that was out.

Sunset had studied the rules of Beacon Academy, all of them, including the arcane rules going back to the beginning of the academy that later headmasters had simply forgotten to do away with. For example, there was a rule that said that the leader of the highest-rated team in the final year could keep their own personal goat on the farm. Sunset wasn't sure why you'd want to, but she was going to do it anyway, just to prove that SAPR was the highest rated team in the final year.

More important were the rules around cheating, which were quite clear: the Headmaster or any other teacher for any reason could inspect any student's examinations, transcripts, or any other official documentation. If, upon examination, said material was found to have been tampered with, or any other evidence of cheating or deception was discovered, then the student responsible could be expelled from the academy without notice. Sunset was not as convinced as Jaune by Cardin's insistence that Jaune had also committed a felony, but that was irrelevant: expulsion would be bad enough.

What was interesting to Sunset was the turn of phrase 'upon examination.' Because you couldn't examine something that you didn't have, now could you? Absence of evidence, after all, was not evidence of absence, and it would be particularly cruel to expel a student simply because the Academy had happened to lose their paperwork somewhere in the bureaucracy, wouldn't it?

Which was why, in the middle of the night, with the corridors dark and the whole school asleep, Sunset was making her way to the school archives.

She crept quietly along, using a minor spell to muffle the sounds of her footfalls upon the tiles.

She stopped, frozen, upon hearing a noise. She pressed herself against the wall, looking this way and that like some prey creature trying to make their way across a field without the hungry owl spotting them. This was not going to be an experience she looked back on with fondness.

Jaune, you're going to owe me big for this. Of course, it didn’t really matter whether or not he felt grateful and obliged to her or no: once she had the transcripts, she would have exactly the same hold over him as Cardin presently enjoyed, and he would have no choice but to act grateful to her even if he wasn’t.

There was no more noise. Sunset resumed her course. The archives were stored at the end of a corridor, just past Professor Goodwitch's office. Thankfully, the lights were off in said office, or Sunset would have felt a little nervous, but the professor had turned in for the night, or gone out, or… she wasn't in her office was the important point. Nevertheless, as she passed the darkened room, Sunset had to resist the urge to duck beneath the window.

The archive door, by contrast, had no window in it. It was simply a dull, slightly ugly, iron door, locked of course. Not that that was any barrier to Sunset, who teleported across to the other side of the door.

Now she got out her torch, terminating the night vision spell that she had cast on her eyes. A torch was just easier, and it didn't tire her out to keep it switched on.

The archives were mostly enclosed, but there were a few small windows set high up in the ceilings. A black bird was perched on the sill of one of the windows, tapping on the glass with its beak. It was about the only sound in the cavernous chamber.

Sunset looked around, shining her flashlight up and down the tall shelves filled with boxes. Each cardboard box was labelled with a name, and it took Sunset less than a moment to work out that they were ordered alphabetically. That made it very easy to find Jaune Arc, whose box was near the very front of the archives.

The files started from the bottom up, so Sunset only needed to bend down to get at Jaune's box on the bottom shelf. She gripped the torch between her teeth, feeling the plastic against her tongue as she pulled open the lid and began to rifle through the contents of Jaune's box: test results, teachers' impressions, Professor Ozpin's personal evaluation. Sunset couldn't help but pause for a moment, the torchlight shining upon the piece of paper containing, in a handwritten scrawl, the headmaster's personal feelings regarding her team-mate.

Although untested and lacking in the raw skill and talent of Miss Rose or Miss Nikos, I believe that Mister Arc has within himself the qualities of heart and spirit that exemplify a huntsman. With good fortune, he may help keep his teammates grounded, a necessity for all those set above the common run of men.

'Grounded'? Why is it a necessity to keep them grounded? And what about me, Professor?

Although her brow furrowed a little, Sunset tried to dismiss the whole thing as she put the extraordinarily brief evaluation back and went down to the very bottom of the box.

Aha. There they were: Jaune's transcripts recommending him to Beacon. They purported to be from a combat assessor, confirming that Jaune's proficiency with weapons, aura – what a joke – and academic knowledge was up to the standard that would be expected of a graduate from a combat school. Apart from the fact that some of it could be proven false – like the fact that he hadn't known what aura was – Sunset couldn't tell that it was a forgery; but then, she wouldn't really know what a forgery looked like.

She pulled the transcripts out of the box, shut the lid, and put the box back where it came from.

She could go now. She had what she came for.

But something, some instinct or simple curiosity, wouldn't let Sunset leave just yet. There was something else she had to check up on first.

So she headed deeper into the archives, passing out of A and into B as she searched for the name she was looking for: Raven Branwen, the mysterious R in Team STRQ. The most enigmatic member of the famous team. Every other member of Team STRQ had their activities detailed in some form. A modest obituary for Summer Rose still existed in the archives of the website of a local newspaper. Taiyang Xiao Long was a teacher at Signal Combat School. Qrow Branwen had been a teacher there too, until the end of the last school year. But Raven Branwen had no present, and no past before coming to Beacon.

But she did have a box in the archives, one which was also conveniently nestled on the bottom shelf where Sunset could grab it, pull it out, and open it up.

It was empty. There was absolutely nothing there, not even Professor Ozpin's personal impressions. It was like somebody had beaten Sunset to the archives and cleared the records out.

I say 'as if,' but who am I to say that someone didn't do just that?

Who is Raven Branwen, and why is someone so determined to preserve her secrets?

Sunset got up. Looking around, feeling in some sense that she was not alone in there. But she couldn't see or hear anyone. There was no sound but her own breath and the tapping of that bird upon the small, high window.

Sunset should probably have left, but she was too curious to simply walk away, now that she had this chance which might never come again.

She headed into the recesses of the archives, past D and H and M and P; she was into S and approaching her destination when Sunset tripped over something lying in her path, flying forwards to land flat on her face upon the cold linoleum tiles of the archive. Sunset turned as she scrambled upright, turning her torch upon the offending object, a box removed from the shelves and left upon the floor.

A box which bore the name of Summer Rose.

Sunset stopped, looking up at the name of Ruby's mother illuminated by the light of her torch. The cardboard was crinkled with age and starting to fall apart in places; there were holes developing in the corners as though rodents had nibbled at them.

She could have passed on. She could have ignored it, looking for her own name as she had decided to do after getting Jaune's transcript. She could have left Ruby's mother be.

But she didn't.

Sunset knelt down beside the box and pulled off the lid. There was a lot more in it than there had been in Jaune's box: not surprising, since Summer Rose and her team had completed a full four years at Beacon Academy. She rooted through exam results, report cards, not really knowing what it was that she was looking for… until, underneath a pile of third-year midterms, Sunset found a book. It was small, leather-bound, with a black cover on which someone – presumably Summer herself – had painted a white rose in nail polish or something; it was the same symbol as on the wall of their dorm room.

Gingerly, with a feeling of trespass as though she were entering into a musty old temple intent on robbery of the idols there, Sunset opened it up.

Dear Diary

Sunset shut the book. Her conscience, such as it was, revolted at the idea of reading further. There were some things that she had neither the desire nor the right to know.

She slipped the diary into her jacket pocket all the same.

Her own box was not far away: Sunset Shimmer. Sunset dragged a conveniently placed ladder across the shelves and scampered up it to see what Professor Ozpin had to say about her.

Sunset Shimmer clearly has enormous potential, though I must question whether she will always be capable of living up to that potential, or if her own pride and stubbornness will get in the way.

What do you know? Sunset thought.

However, I have hope that with the support of her teammates, she may mellow considerably.

I've gotten by just fine on my own.

If she can overcome her flaws and rise to the occasion, then she has the makings of a skilled huntress, and perhaps much more.

Sunset blinked. 'More?' More what? What more is there, and how do I get it?

One thing is certain: Miss Shimmer is too powerful to be allowed to fall into her hands.

'Her' who? Why are you being so cryptic?

At present, Beacon is the best place for her: a place where she can learn and where she can be observed.

Sunset had to be careful; she almost swallowed with the torch in her mouth. A shiver ran down her spine. The words themselves were perfectly innocuous, but… something about them disturbed her. A part of her wanted to see what the Headmaster had to say about Ruby and Pyrrha, but another part of her… another part of her was afraid. She had felt, at the time of her interview with Professor Ozpin, as though he was weighing her, and it seemed that that was exactly what he had done: weighed her up like a prize pig at the county fair. Weighed her dangerous in the wrong hands – and whose hands were those?

Weighed her… and judged her.

Sunset shoved the box back and replaced the ladder quickly. With Jaune's transcripts in hand and Summer's journal in her pocket, she teleported out of the archive and fled, heedless of the noise that she made, back to her dorm room.

It was only when she got there, when she was standing outside the dorm with her scroll in hand, that Sunset started to calm down a little. It was the darkness of the room, the silence, the solitude… it had overcome her. There was nothing to worry about. Professor Ozpin's words were just words, meaning little and possessing no capacity to harm.

Put like that, Sunset could almost believe it.

She slipped quietly into the dorm room and stored Jaune’s transcripts somewhere safe, where Cardin wouldn’t be able to use them but she would, if she had to, or at least, she could threaten to use them to keep Jaune on the straight and narrow.

Summer's journal… Sunset was about to leave it on Ruby's bedside, but if she did that, then she would have to explain how she'd gotten it, and since she wanted to keep her nocturnal expedition to herself… the diary would have to say in her jacket pocket for now – not to be read but to be kept hold of – until the right time to give it to Ruby.

“There will always be a place at Beacon for those who are brave and kind.”

It was the words of Professor Ozpin that echoed through Jaune’s mind now as he stood, once more, in the courtyard of Beacon, once more looking up at the statue of the huntsman and the huntress. The ideal huntsman and huntress, embodiments of the figures they were all here striving to become.

Somehow, he didn’t think that the ideal huntsman would have gone along with Sunset’s plan.

“Sunset, are you sure about this?” he asked as they sat in the dorm room together, alone, after Sunset had found out his secret and decided to use it against him just as swiftly as Cardin had.

Maybe that wasn’t a fair comparison – Sunset was only acting in his best interests; she wasn’t making a servant of him the way that Cardin had – but it was one that Jaune couldn’t help but draw in the privacy of his own head. Just like he couldn’t help but think that Pyrrha had also discovered his secret and not used it to hurt him or gain influence with him or compel him to do anything in any way.

He couldn’t help but feel very naïve for thinking that Pyrrha’s quiet judgement was the worst thing that could have happened to him.

“Of course it’s going to work; it’s my plan,” Sunset declared magisterially.

“But Cardin-”

“Will have had his teeth pulled by the time this happens,” Sunset assured him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Jaune hesitated, silent and wordless.

“The correct answer was ‘yes, Sunset, I trust you completely,’” Sunset declared.

Jaune waited until it became clear that she was waiting upon him in turn. “Yes, Sunset, I trust you. But… it’s not about whether this is going to work; it… it feels wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s bullying!”

“You’re not the one bullying anyone.”

“I’m not doing anything to stop it either.”

“No,” Sunset agreed, “you’re not. You’re going to make sure it carries on until Cardin buries himself.”

“But what about Velvet?”

Sunset’s eyes were cold as emeralds. “What about Velvet?”

No doubt, that all sounded very fine to Sunset, but for Jaune… the idea of letting something wrong continue – of making sure that it did continue – just so that they could get Cardin into trouble, just so that they could punish him for what he had done to Jaune… it wasn’t right.

A part of Jaune wished that he’d asked Professor Ozpin about seeking revenge, but he had an idea of what the headmaster would have said about that: that it was something a huntsman – and a hero – didn’t do.

At least, not for something like this. He wanted to be free from Cardin, he wanted to be safe from Cardin, but it seemed like what Sunset really wanted was to get back at Cardin, and for what? For something that was Jaune’s own stupid fault in the first place? It wasn’t like he’d hurt Pyrrha or something.

And someone else had to suffer as part of this plan. That didn’t seem to matter very much to Sunset, but it mattered to Jaune.

Or at least, he thought it did.

But did it matter enough?

Did it matter enough for him to…?

How did I end up in this position? He felt like he was caught between two monsters, and either one would eat him without a second thought. If he didn’t do what Sunset wanted, then she’d turn him, but if he did do what she wanted, then surely, Cardin would just turn him in, Sunset’s assurances to the contrary aside?

Either one could get him sent away from here… but did he deserve to be here if he went along with either of them?

“The choice is yours, Mister Arc, it cannot be taken away by me or anybody else.”

Is that really true, Professor?

The seating arrangements for the first years at dinner that Saturday were a little different from normal. Team S_PR sat on the right hand side of the table, with the empty seat on the edge a reminder of the fact that Jaune was not sitting with them today, or any other day since Tuesday morning. Team YRDN sat on the left opposite Sunset's reduced team, while they had also been joined at their table by Team BLBL; or rather Bon Bon and Lyra had sat down there again and left Blake and Sky with little choice but to sit there too.

Weiss and Flash were absent from the cafeteria. Sunset didn’t know where they were, and she found that she had to work hard to keep herself focussed on the task at hand and not let her imagination run riot imagining all the intimate situations they could be in out of her sight. Were they enjoying a cosy dinner for two at Benni Haven’s? Were they dancing the night away in Vale? Were they cloistered in the library?

Perhaps I should have negotiated that Weiss would stay away from Flash instead of putting a leash on Cardin.

The thought of Cardin – and of the deal that Weiss had so singularly failed to honour between the two of them – brought Sunset back to the task at hand. Her glance flickered across the dining hall to where Jaune, like a serving man, was dancing attendance upon Cardin Winchester and Russell Thrush where they sat, at a different table, on either side of Velvet Scarlatina of Team CFVY.

Despite the fact that she was a second year, Velvet was taking – or retaking – Modern History with the freshman students, which was doubtless why Cardin and Russell felt bold enough to sit menacingly on either side of her, closing her in. Velvet, a rabbit faunus with long ears emerging from out of her equally long, brown hair, had tried to get up once already, but Cardin had simply grabbed her with one powerful hand and pushed her back down into her seat.

Both he and Russell took time out of their meals to pull at her ears, and judging by the laughter coming from the table, there was some verbal taunting going on as well.

And all the while, Jaune ran back and forth between Cardin's table and the queue, fetching anything that his lord and master might desire.

Or so Cardin thought, anyway. Sunset kept the smile off her face, but it was there within, hidden away so nobody could see it, and nobody could suspect that it was all part of a plan. Her plan.

In the meantime, the mood amongst all those students who were not aware of the fact that all things were proceeding exactly as Sunset willed was as bleak as a blasted heath; even Bon Bon's attempts to keep up conversation had faltered as the eyes of the first-years kept being drawn to the bullying going on not far away.

"This is disgraceful," Dove growled.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "I would have thought this would have been your kind of thing, the way you stare at my tail."

Dove shifted uncomfortably. "You faunus are a strange sight, but that's still a girl in trouble over there." He glanced their way again. "I'm going to stop this." He started to rise.

"Sit," Sunset commanded him coldly. "Stay where you are."

Dove froze. "She needs help."

"And she'll get it," Sunset said. "Just not from you and your chivalry."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Everyone, just trust me," Sunset urged.

"I would like to," Pyrrha replied, "but this is very hard to simply bear without intervening."

"It won't be for much longer," Sunset assured her.

Yang looked towards the table in question. "It must be hard, being a faunus."

"You have no idea," Sunset muttered.

"And you don't seem to have much solidarity," Blake pointed out.

"I don't need you to help me how I ought to feel about other faunus and their treatment," Sunset replied sharply.

Pyrrha shook her head in disgust. "People like that are not worthy to become huntsmen."

"I don't understand how Jaune can just be okay with this," Ruby said.

Sunset allowed herself a brief smirk. “Is he? Are you so sure of that, Ruby?”

“Well…” Ruby paused, trailing off for a moment. “I mean… what do you mean?”

“What do you know?” Pyrrha asked the more pertinent question.

Sunset shrugged. Her scroll was in her jacket pocket, open but out of sight; she had a little while earlier – before coming down to dinner – performed a little technical trickery to mask her identity from the receiver of any message from her, just as she had earlier prepared a text that would alert the rest of Team CFVY to the fact that one of their number was in a pitiable state in the dining hall and in dire need of rescue.

Team CFVY were known as the best team in the second year; Professor Ozpin’s favourites, the team to watch, possible Vytal champions, if not this year, then certainly in year four. It was Sunset’s opinion that they were overrated – she was fairly sure that even now, Team SAPR could take them handily – and signs of Professor Ozpin’s supposed favour were few and far between to her eyes, but nevertheless, they were second years. They should have no trouble putting Cardin Winchester in his place when they stormed in to rescue their teammate.

The only regret was that Weiss wasn’t here to be humiliated by proxy.

Never mind. Her turn would come.

“I know a lot of things,” Sunset replied to Pyrrha. “Sit quiet and watch, and you might learn a few things, too.”

Jaune felt sick.

Velvet Scarlatina squirmed in discomfort, caught between Cardin on one side and Russell on the other, unable to leave.

Unable to escape.

And all the while, he got their lunch, he got their drinks, he got them anything and everything they asked him for while Velvet sat hunched inward on herself, frightened, alone.

She had looked at him, a pleading look in her soft brown eyes. She had looked at him, and he had… he had turned away to get Cardin another slice of pie, and he had left her there.

Small wonder, he felt ill.

Everytime he turned away, everytime Cardin snapped his fingers and sent Jaune on another errand, he had to walk past his teammates, YRDN, and BLBL, and it was excruciating. The way that Pyrrha looked so disappointed in him. The way that Ruby looked as though she was starting to wonder if she'd ever known him at all.

Only Sunset wasn’t glaring at him, only Sunset wasn’t looking at him as though he were a louse, and that was only because Sunset had arranged all of this, had written out a part for him in a puppet show of her devising, so that she could… what? Avenge Jaune? No, avenge the fact that she felt slighted and aggrieved, and never mind what Jaune thought or whether he wanted any part in this.

Was this who he was? Was this all that there was to Jaune Arc? Was the boy who had dreamed of a hero nothing more, in the end, than a tool of Sunset’s ill intent? A mute accessory to one form of bullying or another?

When Sunset had told him that he was done with Cardin, he had been relieved. What was the point of staying at Beacon if this was all that he would become: despised by his teammates, friendless, alone but for Cardin Winchester, who owned him? Sunset had offered him an escape from that… an escape that seemed to lead into a different kind of cage.

She had been right about Cardin: he had blustered about Jaune’s ignoring his messages, but ultimately, he hadn’t done anything about it, merely snarled at Jaune not to do it again and reminded him of just why he had better do as Cardin said from now on. Even if that ended soon, even if he really would be done with Cardin after this, was he just setting himself up to be in the same position, but with Sunset?

"How can you fight the grimm if you won't fight for your dreams?"

"There will always be a place at Beacon for those who are brave and kind."

Jaune felt his breathing coming heavier as he walked back towards Cardin's table. Professor Ozpin had told him that it wasn't too late for someone to start learning at Beacon; if that was true of the schoolwork, then perhaps it wasn't too late for someone to start learning the virtues too.

I’m sorry, Sunset, but I can’t just put you in Cardin’s place as the person with my lead in their hands.

Jaune's chest rose and fell as he walked up to the table where Velvet squirmed in between her tormentors. "Leave her alone, Cardin."

The laughter died on Cardin's lips. He looked at Jaune with incredulity upon his face. "What did you say, Jauney boy?"

"I said," Jaune said, and his voice rose an octave higher such was his nervousness. He had to keep going. He had to be brave, like the ideal huntsman. "I said, 'leave her alone, Cardin.'"

Cardin stared at him for a moment, before a laugh escaped him. "Hah! Good one, Jaune! I needed the laugh." He reached out to give a tug on Velvet's ears.

Jaune intercepted his hand upon the way, grabbing Cardin's meaty wrist. "I'm serious! This has gone far enough."

Cardin's movements were slow. He glanced at his hand, and at Jaune's hand holding his wrist. Then he looked at Jaune, his gaze travelling slowly up Jaune's arm towards Jaune's face that was pale with nervousness.

Cardin rose from his seat like a mountain erupting out of the ocean. "This joke is starting to lose its value, Jaune," he declared, shrugging off Jaune's hand. "Are you sure you're not forgetting something?"

Jaune felt his whole body trembling. His voice was tremulous when he could manage to find it. "You can do what you like to me," he just about managed to force out, "but I'm done doing whatever you say, and I'm done standing by and letting injustice go unchallenged."

By this point, Russell had gotten up as well and was beginning to circle around Jaune like a jackal. Velvet still looked too afraid to leave her seat.

Cardin stared down at Jaune. "Letting injustice go unchallenged?"

That had sounded cooler in his head. Jaune swallowed. "That's right."

Cardin scoffed. "So, you think you're some kind of big hero, Jaune, is that it?"

"No," Jaune admitted. But how will I ever get there if I don't start by doing the right thing?

"No," Cardin agreed. "Because heroes are strong!" He pushed Jaune, shoving him backwards so hard that Jaune was hurled onto his back, landing on the dining hall floor with a thump before he skidded backwards, the lights suspended from the ceiling seeming to pass over Jaune's head before he came to rest a few inches away from a pair of familiar black boots.

Sunset Shimmer stood over him, her arms folded. Her face was set in a snarl, her ears flattened against the top of her head, and Jaune had a sinking suspicion that she was more angry at him for messing with her plan than she was with Cardin for pushing him down. She didn’t look at Jaune, not even to glance down at him to see if he was okay. With the grace of a lioness, she stepped over Jaune, placing herself between him and Cardin, but as she stepped over him, her tail, twitching back and forth, tapped him on the face. Jaune could only imagine that it prefigured something much worse that she would like to do to him.

"You knocked him down easily enough," she said, and Jaune found himself impressed by the way that she was controlling her tone; you would never have guessed that she had as much anger for Jaune as for Cardin. "How about you try and knock me down, big guy?"

Cardin stared at her. Sunset had her back to Jaune, but he found it easy to imagine her staring right back at him.

“Is this what you want, Jaune?” Cardin demanded. “Is this how you want to do this?”

"Don't talk to him," Sunset snapped. "You're dealing with me now. So turn around, walk away, and forget all about this, or I’ll take this even more personally than I already am, and I guarantee you do not want to get into this with me."

"You don't seem to understand-"

"I understand," Sunset said. "I know everything." She stepped closer to Cardin, so close that the two of them were almost touching. "But here's something that you don't understand: I don't share the things that are mine, not with people I like, certainly not with people that I don't like, and Jaune is mine. My team: mine. Now get out of my sight."

Cardin’s face was becoming as red as Ruby’s cape as he bent down and whispered into Sunset's ear.

Sunset whispered something right back, though Jaune couldn't hear what it was.

Cardin's face reddened yet further, which Jaune wouldn’t have thought was possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. His back straightened as though he'd been shocked. "Big mistake," he snarled. “When I’m done-”

“Cardin!” the voice of Weiss Schnee cracked like a whip, cutting through the cafeteria.

Jaune, still lying on the ground, twisted his whole body to look back towards the doors. Weiss stood there, framed in the open doorway, gleaming white in her bolero and skirt against the darkness that lay without the dining hall. Flash stood by her side, dogging her steps as Weiss strode down the corridor between the tables, her stride as long as her legs would manage, her poise and strut alike majestic. Her wedge heels tapped a staccato drumbeat on the dining hall floor as she approached the scene of the unfolding confrontation.

She stopped, her gaze as chill as winter wind sweeping across the Cardin, Russell, Jaune, and Sunset.

“What is going on here?” she hissed.

“Your word has been proven worthless, that’s what’s going on here,” Sunset muttered.

Weiss’ jaw tightened. “Is that so,” she said, and her voice seemed calmer as she said it, though no less cold.

Cardin growled. “He-”

“Quiet!” Weiss snapped, and Cardin’s mouth closed immediately as though Weiss’ true semblance was the power to command with her voice. She walked towards him, and he fell back before her, clearing a path for her to approach Velvet.

Velvet shrank back at her approach.

“I apologise for the behaviour of my teammates,” Weiss declared. “And for the fact that I was not here to stop it.”

Velvet’s eyes widened. Her lapine ears pricked up. “You… it’s fine, really, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s not,” Weiss said. “And yes, I do. I’m sorry, and I assure you that it will not happen again.”

Velvet was silent a moment, still shrunk back from Weiss, still bowing her head. Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

Weiss nodded, before turning gracefully upon her toe and striding away with. “You two,” she barked. “Come with me!”

Cardin and Russell followed; it was clear from their looks that they didn’t dare not to, although Flash remained behind – he looked at Sunset but didn’t say anything – to shepherd them along from behind in case they lagged too much. Jaune would have enjoyed the sight of them cowed and submissive, but then, Sunset turned to look down on him, and Jaune was reminded that his own troubles were still too immediate for any feeling of victory over his tormentors.

Sunset knelt down beside him. “What was that?” she hissed.

Jaune swallowed. “That… that was me doing the right thing,” he said.

“The right thing wasn’t the plan,” Sunset reminded him.

“No,” Jaune admitted. “But it was still right.”

Sunset stared at him, glared at him, and Jaune found himself reminded of what she had said about Cardin, about how he wouldn’t turn Jaune in for disobeying the first time because he relished having power over Jaune too much to give it up.

He looked into her eyes, and he thought of her own words and wondered whether they might apply to her as much as to Cardin.

“Then it seems you’ve made your choice,” Sunset said coldly. The words ‘and now you’ll have to live with it’ hung unspoken in the air between them. She stood up without saying anything else and without allowing Jaune to say anything else to her. What would he have said, in any case? He couldn’t apologise for what he’d done; could he have begged her to stay her hand?

He didn’t. Whether he would have if she’d given him the chance, he didn’t know. She walked away before he could say anything, and whether she walked away to doom him or not, he really couldn’t say.

He hoped not, but then, his hopes had a habit of being disappointed around here.

A hand entered Jaune's field of vision: Pyrrha's hand, offered to help him up.

Jaune stared up at her, into her bright green eyes, so much warmer than those of their team leader, before he took her hand and let her pull him to his feet. "Thanks," he said.

Pyrrha smiled. "You were very brave."

"No, I wasn't," Jaune replied. "But... thank you anyway."

Pyrrha still had hold of his hand. She seemed in no particular hurry to let go of it. She kept a gentle grip upon it as he walked towards the table where Ruby sat along with YRDN and BLBL. He felt as though they were all watching him in silence, but the only one that he was looking at was Ruby.

"Do you… mind if I join you guys?" he asked.

Ruby scooted sideways so that there was an empty space between her and Pyrrha. "I saved you a seat," she said with a smile on her face that lit up her silver eyes.

Jaune could not conceal, nor did he try to hide, the combined sag and sigh of relief as he sat down, with Pyrrha resuming her seat next to him on the other side of Ruby.

Ruby reached out and took his free hand in hers. "Welcome home, Jaune," she said.

Jaune smiled down at her. "It's good to be back," he said. For however long it lasts. There was a part of him that was counting the moments until either Cardin or Sunset brought the whole thing crashing down upon him.

Nobody asked him any questions about what he'd been doing or why. They simply accepted his inexplicable conduct as an aberration, a kind of madness which had now passed, leaving him once more himself. He had gone away, now he was back, and there was nothing more to be said upon the subject.

He wasn't sure he could ever express how grateful he was for that. He would need to tell Ruby at some point, but she – and everyone else – was willing to give him time to do so as he chose.

And then, as dinner ended, Jaune got a text summoning him to the headmaster's office at once.

Ice gripped his stomach.

"What is it?" Ruby asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I… I have to go," Jaune said.

“'Go,'” Pyrrha repeated. “Go where?”

Jaune’s hands trembled as he got to his feet. All he could manage to utter was a single word: “Away.”

Weiss directed her teammates into their dorm room with an imperious hand, gesturing them to go in first so that she could slam the door behind her as she followed them in.

She felt as though she could shake with anger right now, and it took a great deal of effort on her part not to. She couldn’t afford to rage right now; she had to be… gods help her, she had to be like Father, cold in her wrath, with an icy temper that cut rather than burned.

So she kept herself still and poised, as a Schnee should be, and looked down at Cardin and Russell for all that they were bigger than she was. “What,” she demanded coldly, “did I witness the end of in the cafeteria?”

Neither of them would meet her gaze. Sullen schoolboys that they were, they looked away and down and pouted in a surly manner, and they did not speak.

Neither did Weiss. She would wait them out, confident their patience would expire before hers did.

“We were just having some fun,” Russell complained.

“'Fun,'” Weiss repeated. “Is that what you call fun, picking on those weaker than you?”

“If she can’t take a little thing like that, then how is she going to make it as a huntress?” Russell demanded.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Weiss snapped. “She can fail as a huntress, she can drag her team down, she can waste the lien being spent on her education, but you demeaned yourself by your behaviour, and you demeaned this team. And you demeaned me.” She sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “And I will not allow you to diminish me by your actions. From now on, I expect you to conduct yourself like gentlemen, whether you are gentlemen or not. Do you understand?”

Russell shoved his hands into his pockets. “Whatever.”

“Do you understand?” Weiss repeated.

“Yes,” Russell said, his tone aggrieved. “What’s your problem; she’s just a faunus.”

So was the woman who raised me. “It doesn’t matter whether she is a faunus or not; a huntsman should be better than such plebeian behaviour.” She turned her gaze on Cardin. “And what was going on with Jaune? I explicitly told you to leave him alone.”

“He shouldn’t even be here!” Cardin yelled. “He’s a liar and a fraud, and he doesn’t belong at Beacon! I was doing him a favour!”

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Sunset paced up and down, her boots scuffing at the earth as her tail swept back and forth behind her.

Jaune! She couldn’t believe the nerve of that guy! After everything that she had done for him, to turn around and treat her like this! She had saved him from Cardin, she’d gotten his transcripts, and all that he had to do in return was obey her instructions to the letter, but apparently, that was too much for his mind to handle; he had to listen to his conscience instead.

Why would anyone want to listen to their conscience when they could listen to me? How sharp was the tooth of his ingratitude that he should betray her trust, and for what? For who? For Velvet Scarlatina? Who was Velvet to him or he to her that he should throw Sunset’s plans into disarray for her? She had wanted… she had wanted to humiliate Cardin, and though it might be said that that had, in fact, happened, it didn’t satisfy her the way that she had thought it would, perhaps because Weiss had been involved. It didn’t make her feel any better, it didn’t make her feel as though she and Cardin were all square, it didn’t feel like a fitting way for her to get back at him.

It just made her feel empty. Empty and angry at Jaune.

She'd had a plan! It had been a good plan, too, a plan which would have concealed Sunset’s involvement completely: Cardin would have been hoist upon his own petard, with no way of knowing that it had been her, Sunset Shimmer, who had engineered his downfall. Sometimes, it was better that way; as desirous as Sunset was to be celebrated for her accomplishments, when it came to revenge, the best kind was the one your enemies didn’t realise you had exacted upon them. Cardin would have been brought low and with no cause to seek revenge on Sunset in his turn, because her involvement would never have come to light. If only Jaune had played his part.

But no, he had to do the right thing instead.

It would serve him right if Sunset turned him in for his fake transcripts.

In fact… in fact, she might have to do just that.

Except… except she didn’t really want to.

But if she didn’t, then she would be revealing herself to be no better than Cardin Winchester, making empty threats that she had no will or desire to follow through on, clinging to shreds of power over Jaune, even as that power slipped through her fingers by her unwillingness to use it.

But if she did expose him, then he would be gone, and she… she didn’t want to be Princess Celestia to Jaune, the destroyer of his hopes and dreams. She wanted to take him in hand and make something out of him. But if she allowed him to stay in Beacon in the face of what he had done, then where was her authority as his leader?

If I kick Jaune out, then Pyrrha and Ruby will never forgive me.

If I don’t, then he’ll never respect me.

Why does this have to be so hard?

Why couldn’t Jaune have just done what I said?

See, Princess Twilight, this is why I have no time for friendship; they’ll always betray you in the end.

Except that I don’t want them to hate me for what I do.

That doesn’t mean anything, except that it’s easier to lead people who like you. I’m just being prudent.

Indeed. Prudence. The thought of an air of pleading silver eyes filled with anguish had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

What am I supposed to do now? Jaune has transgressed, Cardin and Weiss have not yet felt my sting. What am I supposed to do?

Sunset was rather glad to be distracted from all this by the ringing of her scroll. She answered it to find Pyrrha’s face on the other end.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha cried. “Jaune’s just been called to the headmaster’s office.” She paused for a moment, a spasm of guilt crossing her face. “You see… the thing that I haven’t told you-”

“Pyrrha, it’s okay,” Sunset said. “You don’t need to tell me, and you don’t need to worry. Where are you?”

“Outside the dining hall.”

“Is Ruby with you?”

“I’m here,” Ruby said, pushing Pyrrha aside a little so that her face could appear in the screen. “Sunset, what’s going on? Is Jaune getting expelled?”

“No,” Sunset assured her. “Both of you go back to the dorm room and get ready to do the whole ‘we love you Jaune, don’t be sad’ thing you do so well. I’ll be along – with Jaune – in just a while.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked.

“Trust me,” Sunset said. “Everything is going to work out just fine.”

She closed her scroll and started towards the tower. She might not know exactly how she felt about Jaune, but she knew one thing: nobody was going to take one of her team away from her.

The headmaster’s office was empty and austere, so barren that it seemed larger than it was and so large that Jaune felt small and utterly insignificant within it. He felt the sweat pooling beneath his armpits as he stood before the headmaster and Professor Goodwitch.

Professor Ozpin wasn’t looking at him. He was reading something as he sipped his hot cocoa. Professor Goodwitch was staring at him though. Staring at him as though he were some kind of insect and she was about to crush him under her heel.

In the rare moments of coherent thought that escaped the combination of blind panic and bottomless despair, Jaune wondered at what point this had all started to go so horribly wrong. At what point had he made the big mistake that had led to all this?

Was it when I decided to come here in the first place? Was that where I went wrong after all?

It was all over now. His adventure, his dreams. But what Jaune felt most, somewhat to the surprise even of himself, was guilt. Pyrrha and Ruby… they’d believed in him. Nobody had ever believed in him before, not in his whole life. For as long as he’d known, it’d always been ‘you can’t’ or ‘you’re not strong enough’ or ‘it’s too dangerous.’ Nobody had ever trusted him, nobody had ever taken him seriously, nobody had ever looked at Jaune Arc and said ‘yeah, you can become a hero.’

But they had. Those two angels had believed in him… and he had let them down. He saw that now with a clarity that only the impending death of all his hopes and dreams could provide. He had been… he hadn’t been deserving of them.

And it was too late to do anything about it now.

“Mister Arc,” Professor Goodwitch said, since Professor Ozpin didn’t seem inclined to look up from whatever it was he was reading, “the allegations that have been made against you are quite serious. And unfortunately, they are allegations that I can only too easily believe in light of your underwhelming performance at this academy. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Jaune opened his mouth, ready to let everything spill out: the truth, his excuses, his reasons, all of it. He couldn’t lie, not any more, not here, not with Professor Goodwitch glaring at him like that. He was too rattled, too scared, and too lost to deny it or stonewall or try to brazen it out. He opened his mouth and prepared to throw himself upon the mercy of the school.

“Sorry I’m late,” Sunset said as the lift door opened and Jaune’s team leader strolled into the office as if she owned the place. She advanced quickly across the floor, passing beneath the shadow of the grinding gears until she was standing at Jaune’s side. She clasped her hands behind her back. “I wasn’t around when Jaune got the summons; Pyrrha had to call me.” She smiled. “As I’m sure you’re both well aware, Professors, Article Fifteen Subsection Three states that any student accused of a disciplinary infraction is entitled to have their team leader present at proceedings.”

“Of course,” Professor Ozpin said, and Jaune must have been going nuts from the stress because it sounded like the headmaster was pleased that she’d shown up. “We wouldn’t want to do anything except follow the rules to the letter, would we? Thank you for joining us, Miss Shimmer.”

“Are you aware of the allegations made against Mister Arc, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch demanded.

“I’m aware that Cardin Win-”

Professor Ozpin raised one hand. “I’m afraid that we don’t name accusers here, Miss Shimmer. That’s Subsection Five.”

Sunset took a breath. “Of course it is, Professor. But that doesn’t change the fact that the allegations are spiteful, malicious, and thoroughly false. Motivated by personal dislike of Jaune.”

“That is easily alleged, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said, “but the truth is, these allegations would explain a great deal about Mister Arc’s performance.”

Jaune might have said something at this point – he could still feel the pressure to confess like a weight pushing down upon his chest – but a look from Sunset silenced him.

“With all due respect, Professor, the fact that Jaune’s grades are poor doesn’t prove fraud,” Sunset said. “Only proof of fraud can prove fraud. Have you examined the transcripts?”

Professor Ozpin took another sip from his coffee mug. “Unfortunately, they appear to have gone missing.”

Sunset’s face was impassive. “In that case, I don’t see that the matter can be proved one way or the other, in which case, Jaune has nothing to answer for.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. He… he thought that he was starting to get it now. Sunset’s confidence, her assuredness that Cardin wouldn’t be able to do anything to him… she had done this; it was the only explanation. She had gotten rid of his transcripts somehow, knowing that without them nothing could be proved. He was safe! He was saved! He might get to stay at Beacon after all!

Professor Goodwitch’s expression was one of controlled frustration. “Despite the somewhat convenient loss of records, the fact remains that an allegation of this sort cannot simply be dismissed-”

“Forgive me, Professor, but if allegations are to be entertained regardless of the lack of proof, then that strikes me as the start of a very slippery slope,” Sunset said. “Jaune, did you forge your transcripts?”

Jaune swallowed, and managed to squeak out, “No.”

Sunset spread her hands. “Without any evidence to prove otherwise, Professors, you must accept his word. Anything else would be expulsion without cause.”

Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses a little further up her nose. “Miss Shimmer, are you really comfortable having someone on your team who may not have earned his place here? Who may not be ready for this level of combat? Are you prepared for the consequences for your team?”

“I don’t believe that to be true, Professor,” Sunset replied. “But even if it were… I believe that with enough ambition to succeed, then we can achieve our destinies in spite of all of those who say that we’re not ready.”

“Ah, the confidence of youth,” Professor Ozpin declared with a touch of nostalgia in his voice. “When all life’s promise lies before you, and all obstacles seem only temporary and put in your way by malicious elders.” He smiled, if a little sadly. “I truly hope that your confidence is not shattered too soon. As for this business… you are correct, Miss Shimmer, in your interpretation of the rules. I thought that it might be worth seeing what Mister Arc had to say on the subject, but I see that… well, there seems little purpose now.” He chuckled indulgently. “Good day to you both.”

Sunset nodded. “Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch.”

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said with just a touch of coldness. “Mister Arc.”

Sunset gestured for Jaune to go first, and so, he led the way back to the elevator. Neither of them said anything as they climbed into the metal box, and Jaune pushed the button to take them back down to the ground floor.

The doors slid shut behind them, and the elevator whirred as it began to descend.

“Ruby and Pyrrha are waiting for you in the dorm room,” Sunset said. She looked away for a moment, and then glanced back at him. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Jaune trailed off and fell silent. Was he okay? How did he feel? He could barely work it out; he was feeling so much that just trying to put a name to how he felt, trying to distil it down to just one feeling seemed impossible. How did he feel? Relieved, delivered, a little guilty… purposed. “Thank you, Sunset,” he said. “I’m going to do better from now on.”

“Yeah, you are,” Sunset said. “I could have let you drown up there, and I probably should have after what you did to me in the dining hall tonight! So now, I expect you to show me why you’re worth keeping around.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jaune said. “What I mean is… Pyrrha, Ruby, they’ve offered me so much help, and I… I’ve been such an idiot! But I’m not going to just trail after Ruby and Pyrrha any longer. I’m going to work hard and push myself, and I’m not going to stop until I can stand alongside them and you as their equal. I’m going to deserve this, you can count on it.”

Sunset looked at him, her face impassive and inscrutable. And then she smiled. It wasn’t a smirk; it was a real smile, not cruel but pleased, maybe even nice. “Well, you’ll never catch up with me… but don’t let that stop you trying.” She reached up and patted him on the shoulder. “I meant what I said up there: stop letting people tell you no and just go for it, and you can do almost anything.”

“You… you really believe that?” Jaune asked.

“I’d better,” Sunset muttered.

Inside the CCT, it had been warm, but as Sunset led the way out of the tower and back out onto the courtyard, she felt the bracing chill of the evening air return to tickle her face and ears.

She descended the steps and was surprised and suspicious and more than a little put off to find Weiss Schnee waiting for them there.

Or waiting there, at least, and waiting for the two of them, judging by the way that she approached them expectantly as they stepped down onto the courtyard proper.

“What do you want?” Sunset snapped.

Weiss raised her chin. “I don’t particularly appreciate your tone.”

“I don’t care what you do or don’t appreciate,” Sunset snarled. “We had an agreement, you and me! We had an agreement, and you broke it!”

“And you have broken something a little more severe, if what I hear is true,” Weiss replied coldly.

Sunset’s eyes widened. “It… it was you?” she gasped. “You were the one who reported Jaune to the headmaster?”

“When Cardin told me-”

“Cardin? You chose to believe Cardin?”

“It would explain Jaune’s ineptitude,” Weiss declared. “I felt I had no choice but to report the possibility to the proper authorities.” She glanced at Jaune. “Is it true?”

“No,” Sunset said, before Jaune could inadvertently drop himself in it. “There is no truth to it whatsoever. As Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch have accepted. There is nothing more to this than Cardin’s malice.”

Weiss blinked. “I… see,” she murmured. “In that case…” She offered them both a curtsy, hands resting delicate upon the hem of her skirt. “I humbly apologise to the both of you, both for my own having inconvenienced you but also for the inexcusable behaviour of certain members of my team.”

Sunset felt her eyebrows crawling up her forehead as her ears stiffened. Weiss was apologising to her? A Schnee was apologising to her?

She almost wanted to take a photograph to record it for posterity, but more than that, she didn’t want to appear gauche or vulgar. She was a daughter of Canterlot, after all, and had been taught by Princess Celestia herself, and she would not have it be said that a Schnee, a tradesman’s daughter, was more capable of gentilesse than the student of a princess. “Your apology is gratefully accepted,” Sunset declared.

“For your own part, at least,” Weiss replied, although she did straighten a little. “Jaune?”

"It's fine, Weiss," Jaune said. "I should be the one apologising to you. I've bothered you, and I kept on doing it when I should have taken no for an answer the first time anyway. Even if you were interested in guys right now, you wouldn't be interested in a guy like me."

Weiss raised one eyebrow at him. "Really? That's very mature of you, Mister Arc."

"Like you said, we're here to learn to fight monsters," Jaune said, "but it's more than that; we're here to learn to be the best versions of ourselves that we can be. So I'm going to do just that, and in four years time, I'll be able to hold my own against you in the sparring ring."

Weiss sniffed. "Small chance of that," she said. A slight smile graced her lips for a moment. "But don't let that stop you trying." She returned her attention to Sunset. “Is there any chance that this can be the end of it?” she asked. “Otherwise, you and I may have a problem.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” Sunset made a conscious effort to sound like a little less of an ass; she was, after all, trying to be gracious, and sarcasm hardly helped in that endeavour. “I mean that, I don’t want trouble from you.” The truth was…the honest truth was that there was a lot to admire about Weiss Schnee; even more than Pyrrha, she represented the kind of person that Sunset wanted to become, that she would become in this world through hard work and dint of her natural greatness: elevated, remote, set apart from the run of common men by virtue of that invisible quality called greatness, wanting for nothing, desired, admired, commanding by natural right and brooking no dissent.

Cold and lonely and all alone in the world.

Sunset frowned momentarily, because where had that come from? There was nothing wrong in being all alone. It was better that way; you couldn’t be hurt or betrayed if you didn’t let anyone get close to you. And as for the cold…the fires of ambition's flames would keep her warm.

“I don’t want trouble with you,” Sunset repeated. “Nor can I ask for it, after an apology like that. It would be said that I lacked all courtesy, and I would seem hopelessly vulgar compared to you.”

“And you certainly wouldn’t want that,” Weiss observed.

“I am as capable of good manners as you are,” Sunset declared. “I am as capable of everything as you are.”

Weiss smiled, if ever so slightly. “We’ll see,” she said.

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, I hope we shall.”

Ruby and Pyrrha were waiting for them back in the dorm room when they returned. They had both been sitting on Pyrrha’s bed, but as Jaune and Sunset walked in, they both rose anxiously to their feet.

“You’re back,” Ruby said. “What happened up there?”

“Did they…?” Pyrrha hesitated. “Did… were you…?”

“Yes,” Jaune told her. “But… nothing happened. I’m not going anywhere. I hope.”

“You hope?” Ruby repeated. “What do you mean, you hope? Either you’re going somewhere, or you're not. Only… why would you be going anywhere?”

Jaune took a couple of steps further into the room. He kept his eyes on Ruby. He wasn’t sure whether to start with an apology or the truth. The truth, he decided after a moment; that way, if she was upset, he could apologise for everything all at once. “Ruby,” he said. “I… I lied, to get into this school. I didn’t manage to get admittance in spite of the fact that I didn’t know anything about aura. I got admittance because I lied about my aura and everything else. I didn’t go to Combat School; I didn’t pass any tests. I… I faked my way through the door. I don’t deserve to be your teammate.”

Ruby looked up at him. Her silver eyes shone bright as she cocked her head a little to one side. “Why did you lie?”

“Because… it was either that or give up on the thing I wanted more than anything,” Jaune replied. “This is my dream; it’s all I’ve ever wanted... but nobody else ever saw it that way. My family… they didn’t think I could do it. They never even gave me a chance to go to Combat School. So I got some fake transcripts, and one night, I stole the sword off the living room wall, and I left for Beacon, chasing my destiny. I… I’m sorry, Ruby. Not just for lying, but for neglecting you, for making you feel like you’d done something to push me away… you could never do that. That was all my fault. I let my pride and my stupidity nearly ruin something amazing. Something that means a lot to me. And Pyrrha,” – he looked at his partner – “for everything I said, and everything I did… I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot. I was so convinced that I had to do everything myself, and I… I have no right to ask this, but if you’re still willing to help me… then I would be honoured to be your student.”

For a moment, Pyrrha’s face was still. Then a smile blossomed upon it, brightening her eyes like sparkling emeralds. “And I would be delighted to help you reach your destiny,” she said.

Jaune could hardly believe it. “Really? Even now?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Even now.”

“I didn’t graduate from a combat school either,” Ruby reminded them. “And Ozpin let me into Beacon himself. You passed the Initiation, Jaune. You earned your place here, no matter what some pieces of paper say. Just… promise that you won’t lie to us again, okay? From now on, no more secrets. And no more hanging around with Cardin either.”

Jaune laughed. “I promise, to both of those. No more lies, no more secrets, and definitely no more Cardin.” He shook his head.

They both closed in on him, enfolding him in their arms, embracing him to their bodies as they had taken him to their hearts.

Jaune felt tears spring to his eyes.

Sunset watched the scene unfold from the back of the dorm room. Look at them, hugging him like that. It was so saccharine.

And yet, at the same time, it looked kind of nice as well.

“Sunset?” Ruby looked at her and held one arm open, inviting, even beckoning.

Sunset snorted as she looked away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

I suppose you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself.

Sunset smirked as she wrote back. You say that as though I haven’t got anything to feel pleased about. Jaune got away with it, and more to the point, he stepped up in a big way. He’s sparring with Pyrrha now, and afterwards, we’re going to hit the books for Grimm Studies. And on top of that, I got to make Cardin Winchester look like a gelding, and my understanding with Weiss still holds. It’s true that I didn’t get everything that I wanted, but even still, I’d say I’m doing pretty well.

Except that you haven’t solved any of your underlying problems; you haven’t even tried.

Sunset stared at the words as though they might reveal their meaning if she just watched them long enough. You’ll have to unpack that for me a little bit. Is this a friendship thing?

Sunset could practically feel the frustration from Twilight Sparkle as she wrote back. You haven’t reconciled with Cardin.

Cardin was never my problem, Jaune was. Why would I even want to reconcile with a guy like that?

Because you haven’t addressed the reason why he’s behaving this way; you’ve just made him angry. He’s bound to try and retaliate against you somehow.

How? He only had one piece of leverage, and he’s just blown that. There’s nothing he can do to Jaune now, and my agreement with Weiss

Which you put too much faith in.

You think she’ll betray me?

No, I think that people aren’t toy soldiers for you to move around in a sandpit; they have their own hopes and dreams and desires. You can’t just say to Weiss ‘keep Cardin off my back’ and assume that it will happen. Cardin is an actor with his own will, and he might try to retaliate against the way you’ve treated him.

And if he does, I will crush him.

There was a pause before Twilight’s reply arrived. Where do you get your overconfidence?

I prefer to say that I have faith in myself.

Regardless, you seem to have an ample supply.

Sunset snorted. I suppose you’re one of those mares who carries a ton of insecurities around with her and has to be reassured as to your own virtues by the people around you.

I do not have a ton of insecurities. I have one or two.

Sunset shook her head. I don’t have the luxury of being insecure. I have to have faith because no one else will. Without my confidence, I’d be nothing.

I suppose I can see your point. Wouldn’t it be easier just to mend fences with Cardin and not have to watch your back all the time?

Two people need to want to mend fences. I’ve seen no evidence that he does. Not every problem can be solved by the power of friendship, Princess.

I disagree.

You would.

But you’re proving me right yourself; you just don’t realise it. Look at what you told me about Jaune, how guilty he felt, how he wants to improve for the sake of Pyrrha and Ruby, and how they’re willing to go out of their way to help him achieve that goal. That’s friendship in action, doing what blackmail and threats and anger and underhoofed tactics could never do. The bond they share has made them more than just three people thrown together by fate; it’s made them a team. And as for you, you may deny it, but I believe that you care about them just as I believe that you still care about Flash. I think you even like Weiss.

I do not like Weiss Schnee; you’re being ridiculous. She doesn’t like me either.

And if she did? If she held out a hand to you, would you reject it?

No.

Why not?

Because why give myself the aggravation?

Nobody wants to be alone, Sunset.

Is that your professional opinion?

That’s the truth that I’ve observed. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that you don’t care about your teammates. Tell me that you’re not as proud of Jaune as your words from before implied. Tell me that you don’t respect Pyrrha as your equal. Tell me that you aren’t moved to compassion for Ruby. Tell me that you don’t care.

Sunset snorted. Easily done. All she had to do was write the words. All that she had to do was write ‘I don’t care’ upon a piece of paper.

That was it. That was all she had to do. She could write it down, and nobody would ever know except Twilight Sparkle, the princess in another world. She could write it down, and she didn’t even have to mean it.

The pen shook a little in her hands.

She could write it down. She could write down that she didn’t care. She didn’t care about Ruby and her goofy smile, she didn’t care about Jaune and his quixotic hopes, she didn’t care about Pyrrha and the awesome skills she wished she didn’t have. She didn’t care about any of them.

But when she tried to write it down, her hand revolted.

She couldn’t write it down. She couldn’t write down because…

Can’t do it, can you?

I hate you, Princess.

I see the good in you, Sunset, and I’m not going to stop until I’ve brought that good to the fore.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter contains a lot more Jaune, and gives him a lot more agency in his own fate as he actually decides that he wants to stay at Beacon rather than that being taken as read as Sunset does everything for him.

Forever Fall (Rewritten)

Forever Fall

"Nora!" Yang yelled. "Will you stop eating all of the red sap?"

There was a red ring all around Nora's mouth which, combined with the expression of mischievous innocence upon her face, made her look much younger than she really was. "Aw, come on!” she protested. “It's not like there isn't plenty to go around!"

She had a point there; it wasn't as if they were on a mission to drain the forest dry, only to collect one jar of sap per student. Considering that it wasn't exactly hard to extract the sap, Sunset had to wonder why they needed until four o'clock to complete the task.

Possibly because it was expected that someone would eat all the sap and make the job take much longer than it ought to.

They were in the Forever Fall forest, so-called for the obvious reason that it was always fall, never spring or summer or winter. Within the boundaries of this vast forest, the leaves were always red, and yet, they never fell; the grass was equally crimson, as though it had been stained with the blood of countless enemies. Sunset had yet to read an explanation as to why it should be so, and yet, it reminded her a little of the Everfree Forest back home: a place where the normal rules did not apply, a little world entire unto itself.

A place where outsiders ventured at their peril.

Although it lay upon the edge of Vale, its boundaries running up against the city itself and stretching through the Valish hinterland all the way to the mountains, nevertheless, the Forever Fall was home to many creatures of grimm, creatures which, it seemed, were as affected by the strangeness of the forest as the trees, for they did not leave it. They did not – and had not, it seemed – erupted from the Forever Fall to menace Vale and all who lived there. The grimm of the Forever Fall were a threat, but only to those who entered their domain. That was why, in order to supply Professor Peach with the red sap that could be obtained only from the unusual trees that grew within this scarlet wood, the first year’s huntsmen in training had been dispatched on another training mission to brave the perils and retrieve the prize. Each student had to collect one jar of the stuff, but extra credit would be given to those who collected more.

Sunset had just finished filling her second jar of sap and hesitated, her eyes lingering upon the reddish-purple substance in the jar. Nora had consumed two whole jars of the stuff so far, so there had to be something pretty moreish about it, right? Gingerly, Sunset dipped her finger into the jar and pulled it out covered in sticky sap which she then licked off.

Sunset's face contorted with disgust. Too sweet! Far too sweet, sickly so! She spat on the ground at her feet, hacking up every trace of the saccharine substance out of her mouth that she could. "How do you stand this stuff?"

"Red sap is supposed to be used sparingly, as a natural sweetener accompanying certain sour dishes," Ren declared. He looked at Nora out of the side of his eyes. "You're not supposed to gulp it down by the jarful."

Nora sniggered self-deprecatingly.

"It's also used in medicine to mask fouler tastes," Ren went on.

Sunset's eyebrows rose a little. "You know a lot of things."

Ren shrugged. "Cooking is a hobby of mine."

"And the medicine thing?"

"It's always good to know when an ingredient has properties beyond the flavoursome."

"I guess," Sunset relented, as she scooped just a little more sap out of the hollow of the nearby tree and filled up her second jar, screwing on the lid tight. While the entire freshman class was participating in this trip, their teams spread out across the forest, four teams – SAPR, YRDN, WWSR, and BLBL – had found themselves sticking pretty close together, with the notable exception of Cardin, who had wandered off somewhere by himself. The other fifteen huntsmen were working together. Well, sort of working, anyway; Jaune had started having an allergic reaction to the sap, so Sunset had set him to sparring with Pyrrha while she and Ruby filled up team SAPR's jars; meanwhile, Nora was eating more sap than she was collecting, Russell was dozing under the shade of one particularly tall and broad tree, and Lyra - draped in her cloak of many colours and wearing a broad hat with a peacock-feather plume - was sat on the stump of a fallen tree, playing a soft air upon her golden harp.

With ample time to complete a simple task, with neither sight nor sound of the creatures of grimm that supposedly infested the unchanging forest, an air of gentle conviviality had settled over the extended group. Thoughts of peace soothed Sunset's soul, and the soft and almost melancholy music of the harp carried her thoughts away from northern Vale and homewards to Equestria. Equestria that had been so full of music, where joyous song had been ever-present in the world. Where it needed no extraordinary setting or occasion to open your mouth and start singing; quite the opposite in fact, it was more as though you went through life waiting for an excuse to break out into song. Sunset had forgotten how much she'd missed that, in this tuneless and quite often joyless world of Remnant. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed being able to walk down the street belting your heart out and not have people stare at you like you were nuts. She had forgotten... but the scoring of her soul by that harp had brought it flooding back to her.

"Sunset?" Ruby's voice, gentle and concerned, interrupted her thoughts. "Are you okay? You looked kinda spaced out there?"

Sunset smiled thinly. "I'm fine," she said. "I was just… the harp is making me a little homesick.”

Ruby smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? She plays really well.”

She’s a better musician than she is a huntress, Sunset thought. “Even… even back home, she’d be acknowledged as having a lot of talent.”

“They like music where you came from?” Ruby asked. “You said… you come from outside the kingdoms before you came to Atlas, didn’t you?”

“Yes and yes,” Sunset replied. “In… in my home, we loved music. There was so much music that… that there were times when it would seem to just spring out of thin air, sounds and sweet airs that gave delight and hurt not. And singing! We loved to sing, when the music began to play, we could hardly help ourselves.”

Ruby smiled. “Can you sing?”

“‘Can I sing’?” Sunset repeated. “Can I sing? Yes I can sing. I can sing as well as I do everything else, I’ll have you know.” She paused. “My teacher and I… we used to sing together all the time. Sometimes, I would sing for her, to cheer when she seemed sad or lonely; sometimes, she would sing to me when I felt low. And sometimes, we would sing together, to greet the sun in the morning or bid it farewell in the evening.” She frowned. Now that she had spoken of it… the memories returned quickly, so many memories and so happy. Too happy. That was why she’d shut them away in the first place.

“Sunset?” Ruby prodded in worry. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel even worse.”

“You didn’t,” Sunset assured her quickly.

Ruby frowned. “I think I kinda did.”

Ruby was not wrong there; she had made her feel worse, homesick and sick at heart. But Sunset didn’t want to just tell her that; it would have felt unfair on her, and so, Sunset smiled, as best she could, and said, “I… I’ve got to go.”

“Go where?” Ruby asked. “Do you want me to come with you? Or we could all go?”

“No,” Sunset insisted, quickly but not – she hoped – unkindly. “I’d just like to be alone for a little while. I’ll be back soon,”

She turned around and wandered off, leaving her team and all of the teams behind as she walked through the lush red forest. Crimson leaves, fallen from the trees above, crunched beneath her boots as she walked. Birds chirruped above her head. The forest was full of noise, but none of it belonged to the creatures of grimm; even as the soothing music of Lyra's harp faded, Forever Fall was full of soothing sounds. It was not the ever-present music of Equestria, but it was, nonetheless, a pleasant balm for her soul.

Sunset walked until she could no longer see or hear her teammates. Since she had only walked straight ahead since leaving them, she was confident in her ability to find them again by simply turning around and heading back the way that she had come; not to mention, she still had her scroll. In a clearing, she stopped and waited and tried to clear her head of all her thoughts of home and Princess Celestia.

Something flew past Sunset's head, missing her by an inch and shattering against the nearest tree.

Sunset opened her eyes to see that the offending object was a jar. A jar of red sap, a little bit of which had spattered onto her jacket and top.

Sunset stared at the stains for a moment. "I hope you realise this needs dry-cleaning," she growled. "And someone's going to be paying for that, but it won't be me." She looked around the woods, seeing nothing but the scarlet trees all around her. "Come out! Show yourself!"

Pyrrha reached out with Miló to tap Crocea Mors; the two blades touched only gently, but it was sufficient to produce a ringing sound. "Jaune," she said. "Pay attention."

Jaune had been momentarily distracted by Sunset's departure; Pyrrha was a little curious about that herself, but she had a job to do – start Jaune's training – and that was what she was going to focus on.

"Right," Jaune acknowledged. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Pyrrha said, smiling gently. "Now, are you ready to go again?"

"I…" Jaune hesitated glancing away towards the other nearby students.

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. It was a little awkward doing this with an audience, but at the same time it was an ideal opportunity for them to get in some training. "Don't worry about them," she said softly. "Focus on me, or you'll never hold me off."

Jaune laughed nervously. "I won't-"

"Don't," she stopped him before he could finish. "If you don't believe you can win, you never will," Pyrrha informed him firmly. That was part of the reason for Pyrrha's own remarkable run of success: yes, she was very talented, and yes, she had a very useful semblance, but there had also come a point at which most people had just stopped believing that it was possible to defeat her. Very few of her tournament opponents continued to step into the arena hoping for victory over Pyrrha Nikos; most of them sought nothing more than honourable defeat, not realising that such attitudes made defeat even more certain than the difference in their skill at arms. "Now, are you ready?"

Jaune nodded and settled into the stance that had been the first thing she showed him: shield up, sword raised in a high guard, feet well spaced and ready to step forward into the attack. "Ready."

And Pyrrha went for him.

She held back. She held back a great deal, because Jaune would learn nothing from being pounded into the ground by the Invincible Girl in all her glory. She moved slowly and struck with less power behind her blows than she would have if she'd been fighting seriously. Yet, she still fought, because Jaune would learn even less from simply being allowed to win, nor would he thank her for it.

Pyrrha attacked, and Jaune stepped forward to meet her. Their shields clashed with a ringing thud that overwhelmed Lyra's music. Jaune's weakness was not his physical strength; a youth of labour had given him muscle enough. While he might lack the raw power of a beast like Cardin Winchester, he was strong enough that he would prevail in a contest of raw strength against her. But no battle was simply a contest of raw strength.

Pyrrha retreated three paces, crushing the red grass underfoot. Jaune pursued her, but as he advanced, his shield shifted from in front of him to by his side, leaving his chest exposed. Jaune swung at her, a savage downward cut; Pyrrha let the blow fall and then turned it aside with Akoúo̱, letting Crocea Mors skitter off the surface of her shield, leaving Jaune exposed to Pyrrha's thrust with Miló that struck him on the breastplate. Pyrrha must have overdone it a little, for without meaning to, she hit him hard enough to knock him backwards onto the ground.

"I'm sorry," she exclaimed, as Russell sniggered. "I must have gotten carried away."

"It's fine," Jaune muttered, as he picked himself up off the ground. "So, what did I do wrong?"

"You came here in the first place!" Russell shouted.

"Ignore him," Pyrrha said, as Jaune's head dipped a little in embarrassment.

Dove had been sitting on the tangled roots of one of the red trees; now, he got up and walked over to where Lyra sat, playing her harp. He drew his sword. "Lyra, as lovely as the music is, why don't you leave it for now, and we can practice while we have the time."

Lyra looked up at him. "Here? Now?"

"Why not?" Dove asked. "You want to catch up, don't you?"

Lyra glanced at Pyrrha. "Oh, yes, of course." She scrambled to her feet, putting her harp away in a bag that she slung across her back, before she produced her falcate from out beneath her cloak.

Pyrrha shot a grateful look at Dove, who nodded respectfully before he and Lyra began to spar. Pyrrha returned her attention to Jaune, "To answer your question," she said, "you let your shield fall to your side. If you had kept it held before you, then you could have taken the blow of my spear and turned it away."

"But if I had kept my shield in front of me, then you wouldn't have attacked that way, would you?" Jaune pointed out.

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "I would have planned my moves based on what you were doing, and what I thought you would do in response to my movements. In time, you'll be able to do the same, but for now, let's focus on the basics."

"Of course," Jaune agreed.

They resumed sparring, and it no longer looked so odd with Dove and Lyra also training not far away. They sparred in short bursts, and after each brief bout, Pyrrha pointed out to Jaune what he could or should have done differently, where he could improve his stance, make his movements more fluid.

As they took a break, Jaune asked her, "So, how long did it take you to become so good?"

Pyrrha hesitated.

Jaune's face fell. "I'm not going to like the answer, am I?"

"I've been training for twelve years," Pyrrha admitted. "Although I might have plateaued two years ago." She hadn't noticed herself getting significantly better since she was Ruby's age.

"So that's only ten years," Jaune murmured. "Great."

"It's not as bad as it sounds; you mustn't be discouraged," Pyrrha urged. "Remember, I've been training my whole life to fight people."

"Aren't you training me to fight people?" Jaune asked.

"I suppose so," Pyrrha admitted. "Since I can't grow claws and turn into a beowolf. But the same basic lessons apply: keep your shield up and before you, how to stand and move and strike, these lessons will help you kill grimm just as readily." She paused. "I've been told that my father used to say that ordinary citizens fear the grimm for their ferocity, but that huntsman fear them only for their numbers."

Jaune frowned. "You've been told?"

Pyrrha glanced down at the red grass beneath her booted feet. "He… passed away when I was young, before we could talk of such things. Before I left for Beacon, my mother told me that he would say that."

"Pyrrha," Jaune said softly, "you never mentioned that before."

"When would I have brought it up?" Pyrrha replied.

"I don't know," Jaune confessed. "But, I'm sorry."

"He gave his life defending the kingdoms of humanity," Pyrrha declared. "There is no shame in that, and much honour. The point is, individually, the average creature of grimm is far less dangerous than any student you'll encounter in Professor Goodwitch's sparring class. One on one, it won't take you anything like as long to become proficient against them."

Jaune nodded. "One on one… but the grimm aren't alone."

"Neither are you," Pyrrha reminded him.

They both turned as they heard the sound of gunshots coming from the south, the direction in which Sunset had set off, alone.

"Russell," Weiss said, one hand resting on her hip. "Where's Cardin?"

.Russell sat up, and looked up at her. "How should I know?"

"Because you're his partner," Weiss reminded him.

"And you're his team leader, so you tell me where he is," Russell replied.

Weiss scowled slightly. Unfortunately, Russell wasn't wrong: she had lost Cardin, and that was her responsibility. She didn't know where he had decided to slope off to, but he was going to be in big trouble when he got back.

Of course, she was going to be in big trouble if he didn't turn up before it was time to go. She had already turned up to an empty classroom to receive a personal and private Leadership lesson from Professor Goodwitch, focussing upon the need to take responsibility for all her teammates, not just the ones that she got on with. It was a reproof that she had deserved; she was being outshone as a leader by Sunset Shimmer, of all people. And yet she wasn’t sure what she ought to do about it; it was much easier to know what she should be doing than it was to do it.

All of which could, to some extent at least, wait until after she had found him.

"He's not answering his scroll," Flash said, as he folded up the device and put it away.

"Can we track it?" Weiss suggested.

"In theory, sure," Flash replied. "But I'm no Twilight Sparkle; I wouldn't even know where to start."

Russell made a kind of self-satisfied coughing noise.

Weiss rounded on him. "Are you saying that you can track someone's scroll?"

Russell smirked at her. "What's the matter, Princess, you find it hard to believe that I've got skills?"

"No offence," Weiss said, "but you don't look much like the sort of person who has received a technical education."

The smirk remained on Russell's face. "Before I came to Beacon, I graduated from the Academy of Real Life, where I studied all kinds of things." He got out his scroll. "This might take a little bit."

Birds were scattered from the trees by the sound of gunfire.

Flash turned in the direction of the sound. "That sounds like Sunset's rifle."

Cardin stepped out from behind a tree and into Sunset's view.

"You," Sunset said in a voice that was half a growl and half a sigh of resignation.

Cardin's lip curled into a sneer. "You think you're so smart, don't you?"

"I am that smart, as it happens," Sunset replied. "While you... what was your plan with that jar anyway?"

Cardin bared his teeth as his fists clenched in frustration. "Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?" he snarled as he stomped towards her. "Just who do you think you are?"

"I'm Sunset Shimmer."

"You say that name as though it's supposed to mean something."

"Give it time," Sunset said. "Someday, being able to say you knew me will be the high watermark of your loser life."

"Shut up!" Cardin roared as he continued to advance upon her.

Sunset raised her hands, and both of them glowed green with magic. "You really want to do this, Cardin?"

"I said SHUT UP!" Cardin bellowed, brandishing his mace before him. "You think that you're so big, huh? You think that you're so great because you lucked out with your semblance? What did someone like you do to deserve power like that? Why should a gift so rare belong to you and not to me?" He was screaming so loudly now that he had to pant for breath in between sentences. "I am Cardin Winchester! Heir to the Winchester line! My great-great-grandfather fought at the right hand of the Last King! I am the heir to greatness! I deserve greatness!" he shook his head, and it almost looked as though there were tears in his blue eyes. "But you... you... faunus! You filthy animal! You… and Arc... taking everything... all the things that I deserve! Why? WHY?"

Sunset retreated backwards a step, treading the leaves into the ground beneath her. He's me, she realised, with a sickening abruptness. I'm being yelled at by myself. She didn't want to recognise herself in Cardin Winchester, in his broiling mass of frustrated entitlement and unfocused rage. She didn't want to see herself in a man like him. She didn't want to see her flaws reflected back at her in someone that she hated... but as he yelled and screamed... it was unavoidable.

"Who are you, anyway? You're just some stupid pegasus from the middle of nowhere! Who do you think you are to usurp my destiny away from me!" So she had yelled at Cadance, the Princess of Love, expelling her rage and frustration from her throat like mucus, spraying it upon the mare who had the nerve to be all that Sunset had wished to be, to become what Sunset desired to but could not become. To take all the things that should have belonged to Sunset Shimmer. Now she was the target of the rage of someone else, and no amount of special pleading - but Cardin's just an arrogant, entitled ass, I really was that talented, that special, that deserving - could conceal the similarity.

This probably wasn't what Twilight Sparkle had in mind when she told Sunset to try understanding Cardin, and Sunset would be lying if she said that it was something she wanted to do or that these feelings were ones that she wanted to admit. But as Cardin stood before her with his mace trembling in his hands… she could not deny it to herself.

"What gives you the right?" Cardin demanded. "Why you and not me?"

"Why you and not me?"

"Why her, Princess Celestia... why not me?"

"When will I be ready?"

"You're lying! You're wrong! I do have a destiny, and if you won't help me find it, then I'll go out there and seize it myself."

Arrogant, entitled, envious, monstrously unpleasant. In Cardin's rage were all her sins remembered.

She hated him and pitied him; as she hated and pitied herself.

Should she apologise? Had she wronged him? His failings were not of her making but... amongst all that she had done, were wrongs to Cardin Winchester amongst them?

There were those from whom she ought to seek forgiveness, but Cardin? Her pride revolted at the idea of bending before him, being what he was and having done what he had done.

And what of what I have done?

"The fault is not in the world but in ourselves," she murmured.

Cardin blinked. "What?"

"I am not holding you back," Sunset explained. "Pyrrha isn't holding me back, Ruby isn't holding me back, Cadance- no one holds us back but us. If we have been deceived, it's by our blindness to our natures. If we have been restrained, it is by our unworthy hearts. But we can change, Cardin. Our hearts can mend, our souls can grow. I have to believe that we need not be these small and ugly things forever, or else... destiny is not beyond us if only we can... there are lights that we can follow."

Ruby, Pyrrha, even Jaune. They could show her the way, and she could follow it. She would reform herself. She would not remain a faunus Cardin forever. She would not let the chip upon her shoulder crush her beneath its weight, squeezing out all ambition and hope for advancement.

She would do better. She had to do better. Or she would end up confronting Pyrrha in the woods, trembling with rage as tears grew in her eyes, demanding a reckoning for the difference in their fortunes.

Forever Fall may be eternally unchanging, but we need not be the same.

I hope.

Judging by the way that his face twisted into a rictus of hostility, Cardin didn't find this as much cause for optimism as Sunset did. "What are you even talking about? Of course you're holding me back! This is all your fault! But I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little pony!"

He raised his mace, but before he could do more, he was interrupted by a series of growls from behind and around him as a pack of beowolves emerged into view in a horse-shoe surrounding the young huntsman and huntress.

Negative emotions. Crap, we drew them right to us!

Sunset gingerly - cautiously - unslung Sol Invictus from where it hung on her shoulder. She moved slowly, counting the grimm around her as she did so. Twenty, including an old and truly vicious-looking alpha.

Crap.

Her finger found the trigger of the rifle.

Cardin let out an angry roar and struck the ground with his mace as though he would shatter it. The ground exploded in fire, scattering the autumn leaves into the air in a trail racing away from the mace and towards one of the beowolves. The grimm leapt aside, and the others howled as they leapt for Cardin.

He was still howling out his anger as he struck one of them across the mask in mid-flight, killing it instantly. But then the rest of them were on him.

For a moment, Cardin stood before the fury of the pack, his powerful form rising above the black mass that raged around him like a stormy sea, but then, they bore him down, and he was buried beneath the mass of grimm.

Sunset froze. A part of her wanted to run, to flee, to get out while she still could... to leave Cardin Winchester to die.

He wouldn't hesitate to leave me behind if our places were reversed.

Yeah, but he isn't Remnant's greatest hero, is he?

If you wanted to be admired and respected across the world, then at some point, you had to do something vaguely admirable or respectable. If you wanted your glory to shine bright as the sun at noon, then you had to do something by some measure glorious. To demand, as she had done, the rewards of greatness by virtue of her desire for them... how had that worked out for her so far?

She didn't have to like Cardin. She didn't like Cardin. She didn't have to understand him or befriend him or anything like that. But she did have to save him.

Forever Fall may be unchanging, but we need not be.

Our hearts can change.

Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder.

BANG!

Birds scattered from the trees as Sunset fired, the crack of her rifle echoing through the forest. A beowolf was hurled backwards by her shot.

BANG!

Sunset advanced on the pack of beowolves tearing at Cardin, firing as she went. Three shots, four, more beowolves fell, five shots, and another one bit the dust with its head blow off, six shots, and she had wounded the alpha. And she had no more bullets left.

Sunset roared in anger as she charged, her bayonet gleaming. She didn't dare use her magic yet, not with the beowolves all so close to Cardin; all of her powerful attacks would hurt him too, and he probably didn't have much aura left.

She did use a touch of telekinesis to pick up one young, immature beowolf and throw it off him and into the nearest tree, but for the rest, she relied upon her weapons. She twirled her rifle in her hands like a spear; she wielded butt and bayonet in equal measure as she tore into the grimm like a fox amongst the chickens. Sunset impaled one; she clubbed another so hard that its mask cracked and the creature recoiled with a howl of pain. She planted herself athwart Cardin - he was still conscious but didn't really look up to contributing to his own defence at all - and as the beowolves gathered all around her, Sunset slung her rifle over her shoulder and gathered her magic to her hands.

The beowolves advanced cautiously as a series of low growls rose up from every throat. Then, at a barked command from the alpha, they surged forward like a black and bone-masked tide against Sunset Shimmer.

Magic flew from her fingertips in miniature bolts of green energy, erupting in all directions, striking at her enemies all around her. Sunset turned this way and that, blasting at the beowolves who lunged at her. None of them struck her, they did not bear her down, but some of them got close enough to tear chunks off her aura before a blast from her magic sent them flying. She lost track of how many there were, how many she had killed and turned to dust; they were a mass, a broiling mass of darkness beyond counting, snarling at her, lunging at her, always absorbing her attacks. She was killing them, she would swear to that, but there were so many, and they kept on bringing her aura down.

And then the alpha beowolf lumbered forward. Its huge spikes of bleached bone rippled with the movement of its muscles. Three shots from Crescent Rose slammed into the alpha's chest, putting it on its back and putting it down. Pyrrha burst in amongst the beowolves like a light to burn away the darkness; her red hair and red sash both flew behind her as she slashed out with her shining spear. Flash's gunblade flared, while Weiss glided in upon a line of glyphs, conjuring ice from the tip of her sword.

The beowolves howling turned to cries of pain, but SAPR and WWSR cut them down all the same.

They cut them down until only one remained, snarling and growling as it squared off against Jaune.

Ruby took aim with Crescent Rose.

"Wait!" Pyrrha cried, holding up one hand. Her whole body looked taut; she was a coiled spring preventing herself from exploding only by great effort, and it was by a similar effort that she kept her voice calm as she added, "Let the prince win his spurs."

Sunset wasn't entirely sure what Jaune had done to warrant being called a prince, but she did as Pyrrha bade them all and held off. Of course, if the beowolf turned the tables on Jaune, then she knew that Pyrrha would be the first one to rush to aid, probably faster even than Ruby, but for now, the other huntsmen waited and watched as Jaune and the last beowolf faced one another.

Jaune didn't take his eyes off the creature as they circled one another. He kept his shield up, covering his chest, and held his sword over it ready to thrust out.

The beowolf charged, howling. Jaune rushed to meet it with a shout that was angry and afraid in equal measure. He drove forward with his shield, slamming into the beowolf as it came, pushing it back as the creature of grimm scrabbled at and around the shield with its claws. Jaune thrust with his sword, striking the beowolf's bony mask. The beowolf recoiled. Jaune started forward, then visibly checked himself as his shield began to fall to his side. The beowolf charged again. Jaune cut off its head in a single clean stroke.

As the grimm turned to ash, Jaune almost looked as though he couldn't believe that he'd done it. He stared at his own sword in disbelief, as Pyrrha looked at him with equal parts relief and delight visible upon her face.

"Are you okay, Sunset?" Ruby asked. "We heard the shooting and came to check on you."

"I'm glad you did," Sunset murmured. She cast her eyes over Pyrrha, Ruby, even Jaune; then she looked at Weiss, whose own gaze flickered between Sunset and the prone Cardin on his back on the ground. Sunset nodded. "Thank you."

Weiss' look was prim and her posture stern as she walked forward. "I should thank you for saving my teammate," she said.

Sunset moved away a little, so that she wasn't straddling Cardin like a mother bear any more. "It... it was the right thing to do," she said quietly.

Weiss' eyes widened. It was only slight, but Sunset noticed it. "You..." she began, and then stopped for a moment. Then, after another moment, she held out one hand. "You know, if you ever want to switch teams, you'll be welcome."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. She grinned as she took Weiss' hand. "Nah, you ever get bored, you can replace Jaune on my team."

"Hey!" Jaune cried.

Sunset laughed and found that Weiss was laughing too, the both of them covering their mouths with their free hands as they squeezed their clasped hands with... a surprising affection, really.

She... she wasn't really a bad person, Weiss Schnee. In her own way, she'd just paid Sunset a great compliment.

Sunset was still going to beat her in every class, of course.

She glanced at Flash as she let go of Weiss' hand. Him… him, she still wasn’t sure about. Him, she could not yet forgive. What he had done to her, and for what cause… for all her faults, she hadn’t deserved that.

She couldn’t forgive him… but she could refrain from sneering at him or yelling at him or doing anything to ruin the moment.

Not now. Not here. Not, amongst other things, in front of Cardin, who was being helped to his feet by Russell. He looked shaken, and he didn't look at Sunset.

Dare I hope that there'll be no more trouble out of him?

"Thanks," Sunset repeated. "To all of you."

A squadron of Bullheads carried the first year teams back to Beacon, their engines whining as they flew south over Forever Fall.

The Team SAPR Bullhead was on the right flank of the formation, and Sunset looked out of the open right hatch at the open sky and the scarlet forest passing rapidly beneath them. The wind danced through her hair, pushing it this way and that. She tightened her grip on the ceiling strap, just a little.

"So… listen," she said, having to raise her voice more than she would have liked in order to be heard above the sound of the Bullhead's engines and the wind through the plane. She fell silent for a moment, watching the unchanging forest going by beneath her.

I am not Forever Fall. I can change… and I think I must.

She looked up, away from the forest and at her team. She had their attention at least. All three of them were looking at her with some degree of anxiety and curiosity mingled together.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Silence greeted this concession.

"Uh… okay," Jaune said.

"Sorry for what?" Ruby asked.

Sunset smiled wryly. "How about we say 'for everything' and spare me the humiliation of having to make a list?"

"That's… rather remarkably generous of you," Pyrrha said.

Sunset snorted. "I can't guarantee that it will be a permanent change, but I'll do my best."

"Uh… you are Sunset Shimmer, right?" Jaune said.

"Yes, of course I'm Sunset Shimmer."

"You weren't replaced by a shapeshifting grimm or something when you were alone in the forest so that you could infiltrate Beacon?" Jaune followed up.

Sunset looked at him. "I'm not a changeling, I just had… I suppose you could say that I had an epiphany."

Ruby's eyes widened. "You mean there really are shapeshifting grimm?"

"Not as far as I know."

"But you just called them changelings!"

Me and my big mouth. "I just meant… if there were such a thing… which there aren't… then… changelings would be a good name for them, don't you think? Look, I'm trying to apologise for being a jerk here, so can we get back to that?"

Ruby giggled. "You're changing back already."

Sunset was silent for a moment, then she let out a sound that was part sigh, part laugh. "You guys… I don't know what I'd do without you."

"In a good way?" Jaune asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sunset replied. "I guess… what I'm trying to say… ugh, I'm really not good at this… I don't want to end up like Cardin. I don't want to be a bitter failure hating and blaming everyone… although I've kind of been that already, but… the point is…" I should have asked Twilight for advice on how to do this properly. "Pyrrha, I'm really sorry; the fact that you have what I want is not on you, and I… I'm going to get there and be twice as famous as you are, ten times! But I don't need to-"

"I understand," Pyrrha said softly. "Thank you, Sunset. It's very much appreciated."

"Not as much as I appreciate the save," Sunset said. "Just… in the future, if I'm becoming too much of a jerk… if I'm getting too awful… stop me."

"How?" Jaune asked.

Sunset shrugged. "I have faith in you to figure it out." She looked out the hatch again, if only for a moment. "Hey, what do you guys think about going out for dinner tonight?"

Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune were all waiting for Sunset outside of the dorm rooms. Their expressions were a little anxious, as if they were afraid that Sunset might have gone back to the way she was during the period she'd been away from them.

As if? That's probably exactly what they're worried about.

Sunset slipped her hands into her jacket pockets as she walked towards them. In her right pocket, she could feel Summer Rose's journal. She would have to give that to Ruby at some point, and soon, too. There wasn't much reason for holding onto it, nor many excuses she could give for still holding onto it. Except for the fact that she'd rather give it to Ruby in private than where anyone, or even Jaune and Pyrrha, could see and hear.

"Shall we get going?"

"Sure," Ruby said. "Lead the way."

Sunset did not, in fact, lead the way - they walked side by side in a line, with Sunset in the middle, Ruby on her left, and Jaune and Pyrrha on her right - but she did kind of steer the group along the right paths out of the campus and down the gravel path towards the old hunting lodge. The red lights of the Benni Haven's sign gleamed in the darkness like a lighthouse Beacon drawing them safely in.

"So, what made you want to eat here tonight?" Jaune asked.

"Because... I just thought it would be nice," Sunset admitted. "Something new for a new start, that sort of thing."

"But you have been here before, haven't you?" Pyrrha inquired, slightly anxiously.

"Yes, and yes, it won't poison anybody," Sunset assured her. "I haven't had a full meal here, but what I had was nice. I'm sure that you'll all like it. At least I hope we will."

Ruby chuckled. "It looks just like our house," she observed, as they approached the restaurant. "If someone had stuck a big red sign on it, anyway."

Sunset put one arm around Ruby's shoulders. "Who knows, maybe when your father gets a little older, this will be something for him to consider."

Ruby snorted. "I think home is a little far out of the way for people to come and eat. I can't think who'd wander into the middle of nowhere just to get dinner."

Sunset looked down at her. "The middle of nowhere?" she repeated. "You mean you don't even live in a village?"

"No," Ruby said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "It's just me, Dad, Yang, and Zwei. That's our dog."

"That sounds... really dangerous," remarked Jaune.

"I agree," Pyrrha murmured. "Towns and villages are vulnerable enough to the grimm, but to live all on your own... you must be very brave." She paused. "But then, I suppose we knew that already."

"We don't actually get bothered by that many grimm," Ruby informed them. "I mean, there was the time I was walking back from... the time that I was walking back home, and I got attacked by like a hundred beowolves-"

"A hundred?" Jaune squawked.

"It was a lot," Ruby said. "But I was just bang bang! And then I was like hwa! And I was able to take care of them before Yang showed up. There was also the time that an ursa showed up after I knocked myself out running into a tree, but Yang was able to handle that just fine on her own."

Sunset stared down at Ruby. "Did both those things actually happen?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, in a voice that was half admission and half protest.

"Remind me never to visit your house."

"That's only two times!"

"For most people, that would be quite enough," Pyrrha reminded her.

"I think we don't attract so many grimm because we live on our own," Ruby declared. "We all get along so well that there's no negative energy to draw them in."

"Only you could get away with saying something like that, Ruby Rose," Sunset said, as they reached the door to Benni Haven's with its nine panes of glass. Light shone from inside the establishment, spilling out into the darkness of the night beyond.

Sunset opened the door and led her team into the restaurant. The night air had a cool and bracing edge to it, but inside Benni's was warm and inviting, helped by the fire raging brightly within the stone fireplace. Sunset couldn't see any other first year teams she recognised in here, but it was a lot more crowded than it had been the last time Sunset had visited.

"What a charming establishment," Pyrrha said, as she, the last person in, closed the door behind them all.

"Outside looked like your house, Ruby, but the inside reminds me of back home," Jaune said quietly.

Benni Haven herself was cleaning a table towards the back of the restaurant, but as soon as she saw the four new arrivals, she stuffed her cloth into the pocket of her apron and strode between the tables towards them. "Hey, Sunset Shimmer, welcome back!" she cried. "And I see you brought your whole team with you this time. Eating in or taking out?"

"Eating in," Sunset replied. "If you can fit us in."

"Oh, sure, don't worry about it," Benni said, as she reached the four of them. "Welcome to Benni Haven's, Team Sapphire. I'm Benni, and it's always great to meet the new students."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am; thank you for having us."

Benni grinned. "You gotta love the Mistral students; they open their mouths once, and you can tell straightaway where they come from." As a slight blush of embarrassment rose to Pyrrha's cheeks, Benni continued, "I know Sunset, but what about the rest of you?"

"Jaune Arc."

"Pyrrha Nikos," Pyrrha added softly.

"And I'm Ruby Rose," Ruby said brightly.

Benni stared at her. "Ruby Rose," she repeated. "You any relation to Summer Rose?"

Ruby's eyes widened. "You knew my mom?"

Benni nodded. "She was the year above me at Beacon. Even before they saved the day at Ozpin's Stand, we were all in awe of Team Stark, but your mom was always willing to help a freshman out if they needed it. Not like her snooty partner. How's your mom doing?"

Ruby's chin dipped. "She... Mom, uh..."

"Ah," Benni said, understanding at once. "Yeah, isn't that always the way? I'm sorry to hear that, Ruby Rose. Your mother was good people."

"Is it?" Jaune asked. "Always the way, I mean?"

Benni was silent for a moment. "Come here, kid, and take a look at this." She stepped around Fluffy the Beowolf and gestured to the wall of pictures that hung just beyond him, the large picture of Benni's own team that dominated the wall but also the row upon row of smaller framed photographs that surrounded it. All the smiling young huntsmen and huntresses posed around Fluffy, some of them treating it like the fifth member of their team, others acting as though they had killed it. "Some of those kids are still at Beacon," Bennie explained, "but of those that aren't... do you think every one of those faces is still here?"

Jaune's eyes widened. He stared at all the photographs, but did not reply. He just stared at them all, as if he was trying to commit them to memory.

"Those smiles won't last forever," Benni said, a hint of regret creeping into her voice. "So treasure them while they last." Her voice perked up a little. "Hey, do you guys want to have your picture taken? Still plenty of room on the wall?"

"Maybe after we've eaten," Sunset said.

"Right, sure, the table," Benni replied, as though she'd forgotten. "Follow me."

She led them to a table by the fireplace, not far from the spot she'd been cleaning when they came in. Jaune lingered, still looking at the photographs upon the walls and only hastened to join the others when Pyrrha called to him. The fire felt particularly warm here, and Sunset took off her jacket as a result. Benni set four menus in front of them and promised to be back soon.

Pyrrha opened the menu, her green eyes scanning the choices. "A lot of this looks slightly unhealthy."

"Oh, indulge yourself for once," Sunset urged. "It's not like I'm suggesting we eat here every night."

"This is traditional Valish food, Pyrrha," Ruby told her. "Everything comes with fries."

Pyrrha smiled. "Oh, really? Well, then I suppose I'm obligated to try it in order to get the real experience of living in another kingdom."

"Ooh, they have a cookie sundae!" Ruby cried.

"You can't skip straight to dessert," Sunset said.

"Aww!"

"Jaune? Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked. "Jaune?"

Jaune who had been looking a little distant, visibly recovered himself. "What? Oh, yeah. Uh, I think I'll have the Huntsman's Chicken, that sounds nice."

"The Huntsman's Chicken for the Chicken Huntsman," Ruby quipped.

"I asked you never to repeat that!"

Sunset grinned. "What's this now?"

"It's nothing," Jaune said quickly. "Nothing at all... compared to the story of how Ruby was able to knock herself out running into a tree."

"Oh, that's just mean, Jaune!" Ruby cried.

They had a good time that night. Sunset hoped they did, and she thought they did, judging by how much laughter there was from their table. She, certainly, had a good time that night as they talked and laughed, and at the end of the night, they had a picture taken by Benni of themselves posed around the beowolf by the door. Sunset and Ruby stood in front of the beast, Sunset bent down with her arms wrapped around Ruby's shoulders and her chin resting on to the top of Ruby's head while Fluffy loomed over the pair of them; Jaune and Pyrrha stood on either side of the creature, Jaune with one hand resting on it while Pyrrha clasped her hands together in front of her. Benni set a copy to each of their scrolls and promised to stick the photo up on the wall by the next time they paid a visit. Yes, Sunset had a good time that night, but at the same time... at the same time, she had such a good time that it made her sad, if that made any sense. It made her sad because all of this could have been hers years ago if she'd only been willing to make the effort. All that time despising Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash for the time and attention they lavished on their weak and unworthy friends, and now... now, she understood it a little better. She felt as though she had wasted so much time.

But on the other hoof, if she hadn't, then she might not have had this team and these friends.

So maybe, just maybe, it had all worked out for the best.

After dinner, there was still time for Jaune and Pyrrha to do a little more training, and so, while Ruby and Sunset headed back to the dorm room the two of them remained, lingering by the garages in a somewhat secluded spot, while the stars and the emerald lights of the tower gleamed above their heads.

But Jaune seemed distracted, unfocussed, and Pyrrha eventually had to stop and ask, “Jaune? What’s the matter?”

Jaune’s hands fell down by his sides, bearing his sword and shield with them. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Your father, Ruby’s mom,” Jaune said. “What Mrs Haven said about all these teams with their photograph on the wall. Do you think it’s true, what she said?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. If Sunset were here, she would perhaps say that we are too skilled to suffer such a fate. But Jaune wouldn’t want me to patronise him with a lie, even if it is kindly meant. “I… I’m going to be honest with you, Jaune. There is a good chance that one of us, at least one of us, may die in the field. My father, Ruby’s mother, they didn’t meet that fate because they were incompetent or even unlucky, but because… because that is a possible fate for any huntsman.”

“You say that so… calmly,” Jaune murmured. “I don’t… the way you sound now, the way that Ruby sounded when she was talking about Sunset’s mission in the forest, how can you both accept this so easily? So readily?”

“Ruby is far more ready than I,” Pyrrha said. “I… it is, perhaps, a little hypocritical of me, but it concerns me. Yes, death is a hazard we all must face, but she is so young. There are times when I think Professor Ozpin should not have admitted her to Beacon.”

“She’s good enough,” Jaune pointed out.

“But still so young,” Pyrrha replied. “Could she not have been allowed two more years or childhood yet?”

“I think, if you asked her, she’d tell you that she didn’t want it,” Jaune suggested.

“She seems eager to shoulder the burdens to the world,” Pyrrha agreed, albeit in a soft tone touched with a hint of sadness, “but that does not mean that she should have to.” She fell silent for a moment. “Of course, none of this answers your question, does it? I cannot speak for why Ruby is willing to risk her life upon the hazards of the battlefield, save that she has a fearless heart and a will to use her strength for the good of the world. For myself, I do not desire my life to end, but if that is my fate… then so be it.”

Jaune laughed bitterly. “No offence, Pyrrha, but your explanation doesn’t explain anything. Perhaps, instead of teaching me how to fight, I should ask you to teach me to be as brave as you instead.”

“It has nothing to do with courage,” Pyrrha replied. “I am sure that, when the moment comes, you would not hesitate to hurl your body into the breach if that was the only way to save a life.”

Jaune did not reply to that. “I guess… it didn’t really hit me until today… this isn’t a glorious line of work, is it?”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “And it is a dangerous one. Does that… does that worry you?”

“Yes,” Jaune admitted, his voice small and very quiet. “But not enough to make me change my mind.”

“No?” Pyrrha asked.

“You and Ruby, even Sunset,” Jaune said. “You’ve taken a chance on me, you’re willing to fight alongside me… how can I do any less? If you’re willing to risk your life with me, then I’ll risk mine with you.” He smiled. “And maybe, together, it won’t come to that.”

He is so brave, Pyrrha thought. And braver still for being so inexperienced and unskilled compared to the rest of us. It was… very admirable. “Yes,” she agreed. “With good fortune, it shall be so.”

“Ruby,” Sunset said, as she patted a spot on the bed beside her. “Sit down here a second, while Jaune and Pyrrha are out.”

Ruby looked a little puzzled, but she did as Sunset asked, and sat herself down on the bed next to Sunset.

Sunset hesitated. “I could do with some advice,” she admitted.

“From me?”

Sunset smiled at her. “You… you have such a good heart I’m hoping you’ll know what I should do. Because I don’t.”

Ruby still looked a little bemused by this, but she nodded anyway. “I’ll help you out if I can. What’s up?”

"I... I kind of want to write to someone... but I don’t know if I should."

"Who do you want to write to?"

"Someone from back home," Sunset said. "And... my old teacher, kind of. We didn't... part on the best of terms, but now... I'd like to hear from her again, but I don't know if..."

"You were close?" Ruby said.

Sunset nodded. "She pretty much raised me. She did raise me. And then I threw it all back in her face."

"So?" Ruby asked. "It doesn't mean that she stopped loving you."

"That's the thing," Sunset said. "I don't know if she ever did love me, or if she just... I don't know."

"But you loved her, right?"

Sunset hesitated before she nodded. "Yeah. The difference is that she deserved to be loved."

"Sometimes, giving other people a chance means giving yourself a chance as well," Ruby postulated. "You're not a bad person, Sunset, and although I don't know this teacher of yours, if you cared about her so much, then she can't be a bad person either. So why don't you just give it a try, because if you don't, then all that you'll do is regret it."

Sunset looked down at her. "You're very wise for such a little kid." She reached into the pocket of her jacket. “I… I have something for you,” she said quietly, as she pulled out the little black book with the rose painted on the cover. Summer Rose’s journal. She… Sunset wasn’t quite sure what else to say about it really, so she simply placed it on Ruby’s lap and let it lie there, the rose facing upwards towards them both. “This… I think it belongs to you.”

Ruby did not respond. She stared at the book for a moment, one pale hand reaching gingerly to touch the cover. Ruby’s fingers traced the rose painted in white upon the black, before she gingerly flipped the journal open. A gasp escaped her lips. When she looked back up at Sunset, her eyes were wide. “Is this… Mom? Sunset how did you… is this real?”

"It's real," Sunset said. "It's real," she repeated. "I can attest to that. And... it’s your mother’s.”

If Ruby's eyes went any wider than they would consume her entire face. Her mouth hung open, contorting into various shapes as it framed words that did not come. "How?"

"You know Jaune's transcripts?" Sunset said. "The ones that got lost? Yeah, they got lost because I... trespassed slightly in the archives and removed them." That reminded her; she should probably burn those or something. She shouldn't keep them in case they tempted her to bad habits. "And then... while I was there, I decided to look at my records, and while I was looking, I found your mother's box, and... that was in there. I haven't looked at it. Well, I stopped as soon as I realised what it was. I don't know anything."

Ruby stared up at her for a moment, and then a moment longer. Her eyes began to fill with tears. And then she flung her arms around Sunset's neck and squeezed her tight into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered into one of Sunset's ears.

Sunset was stiff, startled into statuesque rigidity. People didn't hug Sunset Shimmer. She hadn't gotten a hug in... since Flash broke up with her, at least. And even then, they’d… kind of stopped hugging at some point, even though Sunset couldn’t exactly remember when. Regardless, it had been a long time since anyone embraced her the way that Ruby was doing now.

And to be honest, it wasn't half bad.

Slowly, gently, gingerly, Sunset put one arm around Ruby's shoulder. "It was nothing, really. I was just passing through."

Ruby refused to let her go. "Mom," she murmured. "There's so much that I don't know, and Dad won't tell me and nor will Uncle Qrow, and I know that they're not telling me stuff! And I think... I think that Beacon might have something to do with it, but I don't know what I just... thank you."

"I hope you find the answers," Sunset said. "But, even if you don't... I hope that you know your mom a little better by the time you're through." Sunset hadn't known her mother either; she'd died bringing Sunset into the world. Princess Celestia had been the closest that Sunset had ever known to... she pushed that thought aside; that confusion was a large part of how she'd ended up this way in the first place. If her mother had left Sunset some way of knowing her, even after she was gone, then maybe…

She hoped that Ruby got something out of it.

A smile was still playing across Ruby's face as she said, “Hey, Sunset? Can I ask you something, even though it’s going to sound stupid?”

“That depends on how stupid it is,” Sunset replied.

“Would you… would you sing for me?”

Sunset blinked. That was not what she had been expecting. “Why?”

“Because you said you could,” Ruby said. “And I’d like to hear it. I’d like to hear a song from where you come from.”

“That… is not going to happen,” Sunset replied. “We have no songs… those songs are a little too raw for me.” She paused. “But I will sing you something, if you like. A song I heard in Atlas, it’s… it’s quite appropriate.”

“Okay,” Ruby said softly, as she snuggled in closer to Sunset, as though she were trying to burrow her way into Sunset’s jacket.

Sunset smiled at this, and shook her head. Her tail twitched gently on the bed as she cleared her throat, and began to sing.

I wished to numb my heart,

To numb my heart,

Against the pain and take it away,

Because there must be more than this.

And so, Sunset sang, a song that Sunset had always liked but never really understood until this moment, when she felt… when she felt as though it were about her more than anyone else.

Ruby was asleep by the time Sunset was finished, her eyes closed and her breathing gentle as she lay pressed against Sunset.

Sunset chuckled softly. “Sweet dreams, Ruby Rose.” She kept one arm around Ruby and used telekinesis to pull the journal out from underneath the bed, open it up, and place it on her lap. It rested there, fortunately needing no second hand to balance it, as Sunset used more magic to grab a pen.

A pen which hovered over the page uncertainly. Where did she even start? How should she begin?

How could she say all that needed to be said?

And how would Celestia react to it?

In the end, there was only one way to find out.

Sunset began to scribble across the journal page.

Dear Princess Twilight

You have been telling me that I should try and understand Cardin Winchester. I didn't want to. I still don't want to. But unfortunately for me, I do understand him a little better now, and in understanding him, I better understand myself.

It sucks. Mostly because I do.

Sunset paused for a moment, pondering how she could best proceed.

I don't know what to do now. I don't want to continue being what I am, but I'm not sure that I know how to be anything else. I'm worried that I can't be anything else. I feel like I might need your help. You said yourself that's what you do, right? You help people like me?

What do I do? How do I do it?

How do I become better than I am?

All my life, I've wanted power. I've wanted glory. I wanted to ascend, to shine, to be admired and adored. I wanted to be the hero. I still want that. I still want all those things. But I also want

I also always wanted

I want to be

I don't know if I can be

I don't know if I deserve to be

Are you really going to make me say it?

I need help.

I need your help.

Twilight Sparkle, will you do me a favour?

Will you tell Celestia

Sunset stopped, wondering just what she could or felt comfortable with asking Twilight to tell Celestia

Will you please tell Celestia how sorry I am?

Author's Note

And with this chapter the second arc of the story comes to an end. The Stray/Blake arc will be soon, but first I want to spend a couple of chapters focussing on Ruby (who has been neglected so far) and some of the other non-Sunset stuff that I wanted to do with this story.

The aura/magic combo attack that Sunset is working on was inspired by Takahata-Sense's Kanhako from Mahou Sensei Negima.

Rewrite Notes: The first thing to mention is the absence of the aura/magic combo mentioned up above. It never went anywhere so it was best removed.

This is probably the chapter will Adser will come in and tell me that, having excised so much of the arc, there isn't enough buildup. They might even be right, but I found that I like the writing of a lot of this chapter too much to make substantial changes to a lot of it. What changes there are come at the end, with a visit by the whole team to Benni Havens and an extended scene between Sunset and Ruby, as well as some Jaune and Pyrrha sparring.

The scene between Sunset and Flash has been removed, as the scene at the dance covers the same ground but better.

The song that Sunset sings to Ruby, Amalee's cover of Startear, is the informal 'ending theme' for SAPR's first volume, and features prominently in my playlist for writing this fic.

Mothers' Voices (Rewritten)

Mothers’ Voices

“So, how was dinner last night?” Yang asked, as the two teams sat down to breakfast. “Is that Benni Haven’s place any good?”

“Oh, sure,” Jaune said enthusiastically. “It’s a great place. Much better than the food they serve here.” He glanced over his shoulder, as if he were afraid that the cafeteria staff might overhear him.

“It was quite tasty, but I wouldn’t want to go there too often,” Pyrrha murmured. “It wasn’t a menu replete with healthy options.”

Yang chuckled. “Afraid of losing your figure, Pyrrha?”

“I try to keep my body in peak condition, for obvious reasons,” Pyrrha replied.

“Okay, I was only kidding,” Yang said. “No need to get all snappy with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha apologised at once. “I didn’t mean to be sharp; it’s just-”

“You didn’t; I’m just messing with you,” Yang said quickly. “I’m sorry, but you just make it too easy.”

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed just a touch of pink, and she bowed her head as she began to cut up her sausages.

“But I totally get it,” Yang added. “We can’t afford to pig out every night and be ready to fight monsters in the morning.”

“Speak for yourself, leader,” Nora said in a tone so self-satisfied it verged upon smug as she tucked her hands behind her head and smiled.

“I sometimes think,” Ren said quietly, “that if scientists were to study the secrets of your inhuman metabolism, the resulting revelations would save many more lives than we will ever save in our lives as huntsmen.”

Nora’s laughter was her only reply.

“So you’d all recommend it, then?” Yang asked.

“Yep,” Sunset said, before taking a bite out of her apple.

“I would,” Ruby said. “The owner was really nice; she took this cool picture of us.” She pulled out her scroll and found the picture in question at the top of her photo album: Team SAPR posed around the fake stuffed beowolf known as Fluffy. She showed it to Yang from across the table. “And she’s going to put it up on the wall as well, with all of the other teams who’ve been in there over the years.”

“That is pretty cool,” Yang agreed. “So, what do you think guys? Perhaps we should swing by.”

“It’s worth a trip,” Dove said.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve already been without us, haven’t you?” Yang said, sounding agreeably put out by this fact.

“With his harem,” Sunset added, a smirk crossing her face.

Now it was Dove’s turn to go a little bit red in the face. “That is- how dare you?”

“How dare I?” Sunset repeated. “Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“Yeah, calm down, Dove; it’s just a joke,” Yang said.

“It’s insulting to Lyra and Bon Bon,” Dove declared. “I mean, how would you like it if I accused you all of being part of Jaune’s harem?”

Pyrrha made a weird noise that Ruby couldn’t really understand. Jaune started choking on a piece of black pudding, and Ruby and Pyrrha had to slap him on the back until it came flying out to land, unfortunately, in Ren’s yoghurt; he pushed it aside with a look of disgust.

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “I’d say ‘if you’re trying to insult me, try harder’.”

“What’s so insulting about it?” Ruby asked. “I mean, if everyone’s okay with it, then what’s the problem?”

Dove looked at her as though she’d grown an extra head. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s unusual,” Sunset accepted, “but don’t call my partner disgusting.”

“How did we end up having this conversation?” Jaune groaned.

“I don’t know, but we’re not having it any more,” Yang said, slamming one hand down on the table hard enough to make plates and glasses wobble. “The subject matter is closed, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Jaune said quickly. He cleared his throat. “So anyway, if you want to go to that restaurant, I’d recommend finding a quiet time. I bet that Mrs. Haven has a lot of stories to tell, when she isn’t too busy running, about all the huntsmen who’ve come through there over the years.”

The rest of breakfast passed pretty quietly, to the extent that Ruby was impatient for it to finish so that she could get Yang by herself and tell her about Mom’s journal, which felt like it was burning a hole in the bookbag tucked underneath the bench.

By the time the two teams were both done and were filing out of the dining hall, she was unable to restrain her excitement any longer.

“Hey, Yang,” cried Ruby. She just couldn’t hold her tongue any longer; it was impossible. “Wait a second; I need to talk to you about something.”

Yang stopped, half turning back towards Ruby. She looked a little concerned. Maybe she thought that there was something wrong. She glanced towards her teammates. “You guys go on ahead; I’ll see you in class.”

“And so will we,” Sunset said. Unlike Team YRDN, the other members of Ruby’s team knew what Ruby needed to talk to Yang about. “Don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” Ruby assured her team leader.

“We’ll save you a seat,” Jaune said, while Pyrrha contented herself with a warm smile that seemed to wish Ruby luck as the three sapphires and the three irons left the two sisters behind and continued on their way towards the first class of Wednesday: a two hour session of Modern History with Doctor Oobleck.

Yang and Ruby stood alone in a crowd, surrounded by members of other teams who moved around them as though the two were rocks in a sea of students on their way to class, until they managed to find a way through the press and away from the crowd. They walked through the courtyard, aimless but at the same time being drawn towards the statue that dominated the open space.

“Do you ever think that statue kind of looks like Mom?” Ruby asked.

“I’d never really thought about it,” Yang admitted.

“I mean with the hood and everything,” Ruby explained.

“Yeah, I get it now, but… I never would have thought of it myself,” Yang replied. “I don’t think it’s actually a statue of Mom,” she added, a touch of amusement entering her voice.

“I know,” Ruby said wistfully. “It’s just… fun to think it looks like her.”

Yang smiled, just a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point there.” The faint smile remained on her face as she looked down at Ruby. “What’s up, little sis?”

Ruby didn’t reply straight away. Rather she opened up one of the zip pockets at the front of her bag and brought out the little black book that Sunset had given her, the black book with the rose picked out in white upon the cover.

“This… this is Mom’s,” Ruby said. “It’s her diary, Yang.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “'Her…'” she stopped, staring down open-mouthed at the little book in Ruby’s hands. “Ruby… where did you get this?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “Sunset gave it to me.”

Yang frowned. “Sunset? Where did Sunset get our Mom’s diary from?”

Ruby looked away. “Well, uh-”

“Ruby,” Yang said, a touch of sternness entering her voice.

“I can’t tell you,” Ruby insisted. “I’m sorry, but if I told you… this has to say a secret, or else Sunset and Jaune could get into a lot of trouble. Sunset didn’t have to give this to me, to both of us, but she did. Don’t you think that matters a lot more than how she got it?”

Yang still didn’t look entirely satisfied by this. “And you’re sure that it’s real?”

“Sunset wouldn’t lie to me about something like this,” Ruby declared.

Yang nodded. “No, no, I don’t think she would. She’s not perfect, but she’s not that much of a… anyway, this is… this is incredible.”

“I know, right?” Ruby cried. Dad… Dad didn’t talk about Mom very much. Ruby guessed that it was too sad for him to think about her, even after all these years. Uncle Qrow had told them a few stories, but he was hardly ever around and even Uncle Qrow got pretty unhappy whenever he had to think about Mom for too long, so the two sisters had learnt not to bother him for too many stories as they got older. But now… now their mother was poised to speak to them both in her own words, to reveal her secrets, unfiltered by the memories of others.

The memories that Ruby didn’t have. There were times when she envied Yang – although she tried not to show it – for having so many more memories of Summer Rose than Ruby did. Ruby had only vague images, a flash of white, laughter, a lovely voice singing her to sleep. Yang had real memories, even if she didn’t have as many as she’d like, memories of ‘supermom’. But now, they would both get to hear their mother speak.

“Have you looked at it?” Yang asked.

“No,” Ruby replied. “I thought that this was something that we ought to do together.”

Yang smiled, broadly this time, and brightly, as she first reached out to ruffle Ruby’s hair and then pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” she said.

Ruby closed her eyes as he rested her head against Yang’s chest. “For what?”

“For remembering that… that she was my mom, too,” Yang said, gently stroking Ruby’s head with one hand. “So, when do you want to do this?”

“How about now?” Ruby suggested eagerly.

Yang laughed. “I think we should probably get to class,” she reminded Ruby. “How about after all our classes are done, we’ll find somewhere private and see what Mom has to say?”

“The end of the day?” Ruby replied. “Come on, Yang, I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

She did manage to wait, just about, but there were times when it was a sore trial to Ruby. It was difficult to sit through Professor Oobleck whizzing through the Faunus Rights Revolutions or Professor Port telling another story about a hunt that he had been on, knowing that her mother’s words were sitting in her bag, waiting for her. Several times, Sunset had to give her a nudge to remind her to pay attention because she was in danger of spacing out in front of the whole class. Fortunately, SAPR was still sitting at the back while they waited for Jaune to recover from his few weeks of near sleeplessness at the start of the semester, but even so, it could have been pretty embarrassing.

The day passed for Ruby with an aching slowness, as if she were mired in treacle as she drifted through class after class, sat nearly silent through lunch and dinner, waiting for the day to end and the evening to arrive. Then, when Jaune and Pyrrha left for Jaune’s training, Ruby left Sunset alone in the dorm room while she met Yang outside, and together, they made their way back out into the courtyard.

It was deserted, with most of the students being shut up in the dorms working on their homework; the only company they had was a black bird in one of the nearby trees, which croaked at them as they crossed the empty space.

The two sisters sat down before the statue, with the snarling beowolf looming over them, and there, huddled together, they opened the diary and began to read.

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I finally made it to Beacon! After so long dreaming and waiting, I’ve finally made it. This is my dream come true.

Yang chuckled. “Looks like we weren’t the only ones to really want to come here, huh?”

The raven in the trees croaked again.

Ruby barely heard it. She barely felt the wind blowing through her hair. She barely felt the unusual warmth for a spring evening. Her attention, as her gaze, was fixed upon the book open in her lap.

She smiled, a little sadly. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Yang leaned down a little, so that they were eye to eye, and gave Ruby a squeeze on the shoulder. “You okay?”

“I…” Ruby hesitated. “I wish that she’d been able to tell us in person, you know? I wish that she’d been able to tell us what a great time she’d had at Beacon and that we’d really love it there and maybe not to worry too much about Professor Port or that… I wish she was here.”

Yang frowned. “Yeah. You and me both, Rubes. Listen… if you don’t want to-”

“No,” Ruby said firmly. “No, I want to read this. I want to see what Mom has to say.”

Yang looked at her for a moment, and then she nodded. “Okay.”

Ruby looked back down at the diary.

Nothing much has happened yet, because I only arrived here today, but all the same: I finally made it to Beacon!

I know that my father doesn’t see the point in me coming here. He thinks that I can already fight grimm perfectly well on my own, so why do I need to come to a school to spend four years learning what I already know?

“Grandpa has a point, I guess,” Yang said. “I mean… it’s only about halfway through the first semester, and we can already kill grimm. You wonder what the rest of the four years will be like.”

I told Dad that I can’t just rely on my eyes, and I suppose he must have accepted that, or he wouldn’t have let me come here in the first place.

“Her eyes,” Ruby asked, reading and re-reading that sentence over and over again as though, if she read it often enough, the words on the page in front of her would change into something that she could actually understand. “What does that mean? Eyes means… eyes, right?”

“I… think so,” Yang said. She put her arms behind her head. “Dad’s never talked about Mom’s semblance that I can remember. Maybe it was to shoot lasers out of her eyes,” Yang suggested. She grinned. “Or maybe she could kill grimm just by looking at them!”

Ruby giggled.

Yang laughed a little as well. “Or maybe she’ll explain later if we keep going.”

“Right,” Ruby said, and read on.

What I didn’t tell my father was that that’s not the real reason I want to come here. Don’t get me wrong, I want to fight the grimm. I want to show everyone that we’re more than just cattle in a cage. I believe that if we work together, we can save the world, and take it back from all the monsters.

But that’s not why I’m here. If I wanted to start fighting now, I could. Dad would probably be happier that way. Maybe other people would too.

I’m ready to fight. I’m ready to die if that’s what it takes. But I want to be just a normal girl for a few years, to have friends and fun and be more than just a warrior.

This makes me sound so selfish, not to mention that I must sound as though I’m not taking this seriously. If someone reads this and thinks that I didn’t deserve my place at Beacon, then so be it; you’re wrong, I really want to be here.

I just want to live for a few years for myself as well.

“No, Mom, that’s not selfish at all,” Ruby murmured. For a moment, she thought of Pyrrha, the champion fighter who had never been… Ruby couldn’t exactly say what it was that she had never been; she’d say that Pyrrha had never been a person, but if that were true, then what was she? It didn’t really matter; the point was that reading Mom’s words reminded her of her friend a little bit.

Mom got to live… for a while. Maybe Pyrrha will too. I hope so.

She kept reading.

I have to admit that I got a little lost getting off the airship. But it did mean that I met this really cute boy named Taiyang who helped me find the way to the amphitheatre. He’s kind of a goofball, but I like him; he’s a lot of fun. I’m not sure how good he is in a fight, but he got in here, so I suppose he can’t be that bad.

“Is it me, or does it sound as though Mom had a crush on Dad from the moment they met?” Ruby asked, eagerness and amusement blending in her voice.

Yang looked a little… Ruby couldn’t exactly say what Yang looked like, but not as enthusiastic as Ruby felt. She looked a little troubled, though Ruby couldn’t work out what was wrong. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, it does.”

Ruby tried to imagine her father was an adorable cute goofball… strangely enough, her imagining ended up looking a lot like Jaune.

Less strangely, she could imagine her Mom having a crush on a guy like that – and not just because she’d gone on to marry him; someone cute and funny and kind…

“Ruby?”

“Huh?”

“You spaced out for a second there.”

Ruby laughed. “I, uh, I was just trying to imagine Dad the way that Mom just wrote about him.”

“I can imagine it.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

After he said a few words to everyone, Professor Ozpin took me aside. He’s been so nice to me, and not just because I wouldn’t be able to come here without his support. He’s so considerate, he made sure that I was okay and that I wasn’t feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it is because of my eyes a little, but it’s still nice.

“Ugh, the eyes again,” Ruby said with a scowl. “Come on, Mom, explain!”

Yang laughed. “She probably wasn’t expecting this to be read by anyone who didn’t know.” Her face fell. “She probably thought she’d explain it herself.”

“It must have been something really cool if Professor Ozpin was interested in it, right?” Ruby asked. “Maybe he could tell us.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Yang said. “He might want to know where you got the diary from.”

“Oh, right, of course,” Ruby murmured. She didn’t want to know the truth so badly that she would drop her friends in it just to obtain the truth. “It is still only the second page, so maybe it comes up later?”

“We can hope.”

Tomorrow is the Initiation, the final test before my time here really begins. I can’t wait, but at the same time, I’m kind of nervous, because I don’t really know a lot about how to do people at all. Coming from outside the Kingdoms,

“Mom grew up outside the kingdoms?” Yang asked. “Wow, that’s… no wonder she was a badass even before she got to Beacon.”

I don’t really know how to get along with other people. But that’s why I want to be here, so I can finally do all that stuff. And then I can go back to fighting.

So sure, I’m nervous. But at the same time, I can’t wait to meet my new teammates.

And that was the end for that day and that page.

“Do you want to read the next day?” Yang asked.

“Yeah, you?”

“Let’s do it.”

Ruby flipped over the page.

Dear Diary,

I have a team! I’m the team leader!

Okay, so I should probably go back just a little bit.

Like I told you yesterday, I was as nervous as I was excited about the initiation today, but looking back, it was really cool. Professor Ozpin fired us all off a cliff and into the Emerald Forest, how cool is that?

Yang snorted. “She really was a supermom, wasn’t she?”

The rules were that the first person we made eye contact with would be our partner for the next four years. I was a bit worried, because the first person I made contact with was this girl named Raven Branwen. She certainly knows how to fight, but she was also pretty cold and aloof and not really interested in making friends.

Ruby glanced at Yang to see how she was taking it. Yang’s jaw was clenched, and her eyes looked as though they were beginning to be tinted with a touch of red, but she said nothing.

Ruby looked away from her and kept on going.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too uncomfortable for too long because we quickly ran into Taiyang, that cute boy I met yesterday. He must have some kind of strength semblance, because he punched a beowolf’s head clean off with his bare hands. He might not have any weapons, but he does know how to fight.

I’ve never really thought too much about destiny, but I think there must be the hand of fate at work here, because not only did we run into Taiyang, but his partner is Raven’s brother Qrow. It’s like there’s a thread of fate binding us all together.

Qrow is really cool; we’d only met up for five minutes, and he was already flirting with me. He was just kidding, though; he’s way out of my league.

Besides, I kind of prefer guys who are honest and don’t put up a big front. Qrow’s cool, but it’s like he’s trying a little too hard to be something he’s not.

Raven, on the other hand, is the kind of person who you accept as they are or not at all. She doesn’t say much, not even to Qrow, but she says even less to anyone else. I wonder if she’s lonely? And whether she’d ever admit it if she was.

One thing’s for sure: they both really know how to fight. Together, we’re going to be an awesome team, I can feel it!

Oh, yeah, teams. I should probably go back to that. So, when we shot into the forest, Professor Ozpin told us we have to reach some ruins and retrieve what he called ‘relics’. It was on the way there that Raven and I met up with Tai and Qrow. So we got to the ruins and we find these chess pieces, and Qrow and I each took a white knight. Then we had to get out of the forest again and we got attacked by some ursas.

This is the best part. Up until now, I hadn’t been using my eyes, only my Solstice Rose, but there were just so many grimm, and we were already so tired that I had to use my eyes on them.

It tired me out. The guys had to carry me the rest of the way out of the forest, I was so exhausted my body just wouldn’t move at all. I was worried. I was worried that they were going to think that I was weak or else that once they found out about my eyes they’d stop treating me like I was a normal person. I was afraid that I’d stop being Summer Rose and become a Silver-Eyed Warrior to them.

“A silver-eyed warrior,” Ruby whispered. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Yang said. “A… warrior with silver eyes?”

“But I’ve got silver eyes, and I never did anything special with them,” Ruby said.

“Yet,” Yang commented.

Ruby started to shake her head, and then paused. “He mentioned it.”

“Huh?”

“Professor Ozpin,” Ruby explained. “When he came to see me after Sunset and I fought Torchwick, he noticed my eyes.”

“You have silver eyes.”

The two sisters looked at each other for a minute, neither one speaking. Professor Ozpin had taken an interest in Mom on account of her eyes, and now he had let Ruby into Beacon too after pointing out that she, too, had silver eyes.

That couldn’t just be a coincidence, could it?

“What does it mean?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know,” Yang replied. “Let’s… let’s just keep going, okay?

But everyone was really cool about it, even Raven. They were impressed, sure, but none of them treated me any differently.

Of course, I hardly knew them before they found out about this, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that they’re treating me like a person. And Professor Ozpin says that using my eyes will get less tiring with training and practice, so that’s good.

Together, we’re Team STRQ, pronounced Stark, although Qrow won’t stop saying he would prefer to pronounce it Strike, and I’m the leader. So, yeah, that happened.

I’m back to being nervous and excited at the same time. Excited, obviously, because this is so cool, and I feel like I have friends for the first time ever, and everything’s going to be great, but nervous too.

Nervous because I’m responsible for Tai and Raven and Qrow, and if anything happens to them, then that’s on me.

Still, I have three teammates now, and I think, I really believe, that they could become three friends. My first three friends.

And if we work together, I’m sure that everything is going to be okay.

“Aww,” Ruby said. “That’s really nice. And just how I feel about my team.”

Yang chuckled, giving her a squeeze around the arm. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Sure!”

Dear Diary,

I don’t think Raven likes me very much.

“Well that’s a downer,” Yang remarked. “Maybe we should have left it at the end of the last entry.”

Maybe that’s too hard on her. I get the feeling that she doesn’t really ‘like’ anybody that much. It’s strange watching the way she goes around the school: she acts as though she’s better than everyone else here, but there’s also this nervousness about her as though she’s afraid of other people. I don’t really get it.

Anyway, the point is that while she may not dislike me more than she dislikes anybody else, she doesn’t seem to like me very much either. She thinks that she should have been made team leader instead of me, and she isn’t shy about letting me know it. She told me straight that the only reason I was made team leader is because of my powers

“Ugh!” Ruby grunted. “Come on, Mom, details!”

“I’m picking up a lot of details,” Yang muttered.

but that those powers aren’t any substitute for knowledge and experience. You’d think she was a pro-huntsman or something. I asked her if she’d lived outside the kingdoms, like I had; that seemed to take her by surprise, I think she thought I was from Vale or something. She didn’t answer my question, but I’m guessing that the answer is yes. I can’t think why else she’d think that she was so much more qualified to lead than me.

Qrow told me not to sweat it. He said that his sister acts like this around everyone.

Anyway, we started classes today. Grimm Studies was our first lesson. Professor Brandy really knows what he’s talking about, even if he does look as though he’s about to drop dead at any moment. At one point, he had to go and lie down and Mister Port, the Teaching Assistant, had to take over. He’s a little odd.

Yang chuckled. “Hey, Ruby, you wanna bet that Professor Port was the same then as he is now?”

“Nah, that’s a sucker’s bet,” Ruby said. “Especially if you want me to take it.”

I’m sure that he was – that he is – a great huntsman, but he told us more about himself than he ever said about the grimm.

The teacher in our combat class is barely older than me, or any of us, and of course, Raven asked her straight up why they should listen to anything that someone basically our age had to say. I was so embarrassed, I thought we were going to get detention or something.

But then Professor Goodwitch invited Raven up onto the stage and said that if she could beat her – if Raven could beat Professor Goodwitch – then she’d get a free pass from classes for the next four years and a top grade regardless. You should have seen the look on Raven’s face; she was so smug you could tell she thought she had this. But then Professor Goodwitch totally kicked her ass, and it was so awesome! Okay, that sounded pretty mean, but honestly, Raven’s so full of herself she deserved to be taken down a peg.

The look on her face when she got up after Professor Goodwitch threw her off the stage with her semblance was hilarious.

“That’s where that came from?” Yang cried. “Raven started that tradition? Now I wish that I’d stepped up. Do you think Professor Goodwitch would fight me if I asked her to?”

“Why would you want to fight Professor Goodwitch?” Ruby asked. “No offence, but… you’d lose.”

“Sure, but I could see how good I was compared to Raven at my age.”

“I guess,” Ruby said, with a little reluctance. She brightened up as she added, “If you do decide to go for it, I’ll be rooting for you.”

I suppose I should probably admit that the reason I might sound – okay, the reason I sound – as though I don’t like Raven very much is that I was worried that what she said was right, that the only reason Professor Ozpin made me the leader of Team STRQ is that I have silver eyes. But Professor Ozpin said that that wasn’t true; he told me that I could use my eyes in any capacity in the team, and I suppose he was right about that. He really made me feel better about myself and about being the leader of the team.

I think someone must have said something to Raven too, because she was trying to be nice tonight. Emphasis on ‘trying,’ I don’t think she really knows how. But I’m going to give her a chance. She’s pretty tough and pretty cool too; I’d like to be her friend.

I’d like her to think that I was worthy of being her friend.

“That seems like a good place to call it a night,” Yang said, gently but firmly shutting the book.

“What?” Ruby asked. “Come on, Yang, we have plenty of time left to keep going.”

“Plenty of time, maybe, but also plenty of homework,” Yang reminded her. “And besides, there’s more than enough time to read through everything even if we do take it slow. Savour it, you know.”

“No,” Ruby replied. “Don’t you know what happens next, or about the Silver-Eyed Warriors? What Mom just described, it doesn’t seem like a semblance to me. Does it seem like it to you?”

“I’ve never heard of a semblance that can tire you out when you use it once, but what else could it be?” Yang asked. “If it isn’t a semblance, then what is it?”

“I don’t know; that’s why we have to keep going!”

“Which we will, later.” Yang took a deep breath. “I just think that the last thing Mom would want is for you to neglect your own life chasing answers about her.” She smiled. “Don’t get so wrapped up in reading about Mom’s time at Beacon that you forget that you’re at Beacon, understand?”

“I guess,” Ruby murmured. “Hey, Yang?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I talk to my team about this?” Ruby asked. “I mean, Sunset and Pyrrha are really smart, maybe they can… I don’t know… work something out?”

Yang was silent for a moment. “If… if you want to tell them, then that’s your choice. I can’t tell you what to do any more.”

Ruby bowed her head. “Yang?”

“Yeah, sis?”

“If Mom was here, do you think she’d be proud?”

“No, I don’t think she’d be proud,” Yang said. “I know it.”

Jaune and Pyrrha took a break from sparring after Pyrrha had, even while holding back, handed Jaune his rear end with all the trimmings again.

Jaune tried not to feel impatient. He hadn’t even picked up his ancestral sword before coming to Beacon, and it was only really a few days ago that he had begun training in earnest under Pyrrha’s instruction. Meanwhile, she was a renowned tournament fighter who had never lost a fight in her entire life, so of course she was going to beat him. Winning wasn’t the object, learning was.

But at the same time, he wouldn’t have been human if he didn’t feel even a little impatient.

They trained by the farm, a secluded and somewhat out of the way part of the school where only the chickens would see them or be disturbed them; the clucking of the birds formed an accompaniment to the ring of swords as they clashed under the moonlight.

As they had clashed, because now they were taking a break.

Jaune turned away from Pyrrha and took a few steps closer towards the chicken coop and the fence that he had repaired to keep at bay the foxes that he suspected were out here.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I was just… I was just thinking about Ruby, that’s all. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up without a mom, not having even memories of her.” He remembered that Pyrrha had suffered much the same with her father. “I’m sorry, Pyrrha, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Pyrrha assured him. “I know you didn’t intend to do harm, and to be honest… it is a wound that is present whether you mention it or not. In any case, I think that I am more fortunate than Ruby. I gather that her father is unwilling to talk of her mother.”

Jaune nodded. “It must hurt too much.”

“I don’t deny that he has his reasons,” Pyrrha said. “I merely mean that… talking about my father is not something that my mother has difficulty with.”

Jaune turned back towards his partner. “It doesn’t hurt her?”

“If it does, she wouldn’t let it stop her, nor even let it show,” Pyrrha replied. “My mother is…” She trailed off for a moment. “Poor Ruby,” she murmured. “It must have been so hard for her.”

“Poor Ruby,” Jaune agreed. “I… I can hardly imagine how someone could go through that and come out the other side so… so good, you know?”

“She is a miracle,” Pyrrha said. “I’m glad that she has the chance to find out the truth, or some truths at any rate. It was… a very kind thing that Sunset did for her. A wonderful thing.”

“She deserves it,” Jaune declared. “Like I said… growing up without a mom.... I can’t imagine.”

“You were close to your mother?” Pyrrha asked.

“I guess you could say that,” Jaune replied. “Or you could say that my mom is the reason I’m here at Beacon without the faintest idea what I’m doing.”

“I… must admit that I have been wondering,” Pyrrha said gently, “why you never went to Combat School, if this was an ambition that you’ve held for a long time.”

Jaune hesitated. His breath escaped him in a heavy exhalation.

“If you don’t want to talk about it-” Pyrrha began.

“No, it’s fine,” Jaune informed her. Yet he hesitated again before he began to speak. “I have seven sisters. Six of them are older than me.”

A smile brightened Pyrrha’s face, and there was a little amusement in her voice as she said, “You were your mother’s baby boy?”

“I was everybody’s baby boy,” Jaune informed her. “Even after my seventh sister Violet was born, it didn’t stop me being treated like a baby; it just meant that now there were two of us. My Dad would sometimes acknowledge that I was growing up, but the way my sisters treated me, you’d have thought that I was an eternal toddler. And Mom… Mom liked to keep me close. And I don’t mean to say that that was bad, or at least not all bad. She taught me how to cook.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “That is a talent you’ve been hiding these past four weeks?”

“Well, we do get all our meals provided if we want them,” Jaune reminded her. “Although admittedly, they’re not the best. I sometimes wonder if the standard of cafeteria food is supposed to push us to make our own meals so that we know how to survive in the wild.”

“Or teach us how to go without food for the same purpose,” Pyrrha suggested amusedly.

Jaune chuckled. “Maybe that, too. Anyway, I don’t want to make myself out to be a great chef. I mean, I don’t think I’m bad at it, but it’s only rustic food.”

“So?” Pyrrha asked. “I mean… obviously, I wouldn’t want to force you, but…”

Jaune frowned. “You’d… like to try some of my cooking?”

Pyrrha’s smile became a little nervous. “I… I think we all would, but only if you wouldn’t mind.”

Jaune looked away from her and toward the farm. He had come down here on their first Friday afternoon free, and he planned to come here again. It was good to remind himself sometimes that he did have talents, even if they weren’t talents in the thing he actually wanted to do with his life. “I… I think I’d like that,” he said. He smiled wistfully. “Like I said, it wasn’t all bad. My mom taught me some things that stuck with me. But at the same time… she was just like my sisters; she couldn’t see that I was growing up. When I told her that I wanted to go to Combat School, she told me not to be silly, that I was far too delicate for a rough place like that.”

“That’s clearly not true,” Pyrrha said. “You have the heart of a huntsman; with proper training, I think you could have been at least as good as Cardin by now.”

“I wish,” Jaune said, not without a trace of bitterness, “but Mom didn’t see it that way. And when I tried to talk to Dad about it, he just yelled at me for trying to play him and Mom off against one another. She’d made a decision, and that was final. So that was that.”

“I… I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Parents… often think they know what’s best for their children, and we are too young to argue the point.”

Jaune nodded. “I… I never would have had the nerve to sneak away to Combat School and start learning. I wouldn’t have been able to manage it.”

“Indeed, most Combat Schools don’t board their students,” Pyrrha agreed. “I… I’m sorry that you didn’t get the opportunity to pursue your ambitions sooner, but at the same time… I’m a little glad that it turned out this way.”

“Glad?” Jaune repeated.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “You see, if things had been different… we might not have ended up on the same team together, and I… well, I like having you as my partner.”

“Really?” Jaune asked. “That’s… thanks, Pyrrha. I like having you as my partner too.”

Pyrrha beamed as brightly as the moon that shone above them. “We… we should probably stop wasting time and get back to it.”

“Right,” Jaune agreed, and drew his sword once more to resume the uneven contest.

Sunset sat at her desk. The dorm room was currently empty: Jaune and Pyrrha were training, while Ruby was with Yang, taking their first look inside their mother’s journal.

Sunset’s own journal sat on the desk, the emptiness of the room giving Sunset the confidence to set it out, secure in the knowledge that she would not be disturbed for a while.

Sunset looked down at the cover for a moment, her gaze lingering on the image of her cutie mark that embossed the brown cover. Her fingertips brushed against the red and golden sun before she flipped the book open to the first blank page.

There hadn’t been any reply since Sunset’s message of the night before. Sunset was getting a little irritated, to be honest. It had been a whole day, was that not long enough? If Celestia didn’t want to have anything more to do with her, then that… well, it wasn’t fine, but if she believed that Sunset’s actions were beyond forgiveness, then she could at least say so instead of giving her the silent treatment like she was a little filly again.

And someone who called themselves the Princess of Friendship ought to have the decency to write back instead of just blanking Sunset out because she didn’t want to give her bad news.

Sunset was scowling by the time she picked up her pen and began to scrawl in the journal.

You could at least write back you know, whatever the response is!

Nothing. There was no response. Not for a moment, and for longer. Sunset stared at the page, but it remained blank, with nothing but her own irate line scribbled across it.

And then, after a minute or so, words in answer began to appear beneath her accusatory opening.

Oh my gosh, Sunset! I’m really sorry, I should have gotten back in touch with you. It’s just been so hectic around here that I didn’t have a chance.

Sunset raised one eyebrow. Yeah, I’ll bet.

It’s true! Do you think that I’m lying to cover up the fact that I didn’t want to reply?

The thought had crossed my mind.

It really has been incredibly busy around here the last day and night. What with the princesses disappearing

WHAT?

Sunset’s free hand slammed into the desk with a thud as loud as a drumbeat as she sat bolt upright, cutting across Twilight’s line with her demand for more information. A hundred scenarios whirled through Sunset’s mind, each one worse than the last: Celestia kidnapped, Celestia trapped in Tartarus, Celestia in the grip of eldritch horrors the like of which would drive you mad to even conceive of their existence. Celestia gone, vanished without trace.

Celestia disappeared? What do you mean she disappeared? Then why are you wasting time writing to me instead of finding her? Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?

No. No, Celestia cannot be gone. Sunset’s breathing was coming more quickly now, and through her mind pounded the last words that they had said to one another before Sunset had left, the last argument they had before Celestia had cast her out.

“You’re not my mother, and I was a fool to ever forget that.”

“It was your choice to make me love you, but it was my choice to believe you loved me in return.”

That cannot be how we leave it. That cannot be how she remembers me. That can’t be… can’t be the last thing that we ever say to one another.

Sunset, calm down

Don’t tell me to calm down when Celestia’s in danger! If you won’t do anything about it, then I’ll just have to come and find her myself.

She wasn’t sure how she would do that, but she would. Celestia needed her, and clearly, her new pupil was too useless or apathetic to be relied upon. Sunset hadn’t kept track of the mirror’s opening cycles, but she’d force it open if she had to; she’d pour every ounce of her magic into it until it opened up and made way for her. Of course, she’d have to get to Canterlot… Pyrrha was loaded, perhaps she’d be willing to lend Sunset enough money for an airfare.

She briefly considering asking Pyrrha to come with her, or maybe Ruby; if the situation was dangerous, then Sunset could do worse than have a superlative warrior backing her up… but how much of either of their combat prowess would survive the loss of two hands and the gaining of two extra legs was up in the air, not to mention the loss of aura. And besides, this wasn’t their fight. This was Sunset’s mentor, and it was her responsibility to help her out.

She was already starting to rise out of her seat when more words appeared in the book in front of her.

Celestia’s fine! If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that Celestia and Luna disappeared for a while, and then plunder vines appeared and started choking the whole of Equestria, and that is why we’ve all been too busy to reply to you. However, there’s no need for you to worry because it’s all settled now. The princesses are fine, the plunder vines are gone, everything is back to normal now. You’re right, I wouldn’t be writing to you if we were still in the middle of a crisis. No offence, but I’d have more important matters to take care of.

Sunset stared down at the page for a moment, feeling like a bit of an idiot. Losing my mind like that without even waiting to find out what was really going on. Well, you could have told me all that.

I tried.

Although I must say that I’m touched by your concern, my little sunbeam.

Sunset stared at the words on the page. A shiver ran down her spine containing dread and anticipation in equal measure. Her hand trembled as she wrote. Princess Celestia?

It is good to hear from you again, Sunset Shimmer.

Weiss Schnee could have emptied all the ice dust that she could fit in her rapier over Sunset, and she would not have frozen her more completely than Sunset was frozen at the desk by the fact that her mentor, her teacher, her princess was on the other side of the magical journal.

She had wanted this; she was terrified of this.

She had asked for forgiveness, but now her heart quailed before finding out whether she had it or not.

She had faced grimm in great multitudes; she had faced down hardened criminals; she had risked her life in battle against both. Yet none of that frightened her so much as finding out whether she had, through her own faults and follies, wrung out every last drop of love and pity out of Celestia’s heart until there was nothing left for her but anger.

Sunset? Are you still there?

She must be afraid I’ve run away again, as I did before. She hastily began to write. Yes. Yes, Princess, I’m here. How long

Sunset hesitated, wondering whether she really wanted to know.

have you been here?

Not long. Twilight happens to be in Canterlot assisting me with the aftermath of all this chaos, although it has all been taken care of now, aside from a few minor issues, which is why she had time to reply to you. I came in and asked if I might take over.

There was nothing else. Celestia had come to the end of her sentence, and yet, Sunset did not know how to reply. The things that had happened between them lay like a wall, keeping them more divided than space or the fact that they were in different worlds accessible only through magic.

What do I say? Where do I even begin?

I’m sorry.

Sunset’s eyes widened in disbelief. This… what… she didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand it one bit. You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?

Everything. I did not do right by you, Sunset Shimmer.

No, Princess, no, you mustn’t say that.

Sunset scrawled the words hastily, before Celestia could say too much. Had she been observing from afar, then she might have appreciated the irony in the situation, but she wasn’t observing, she was involved, caught in the moment, and in the moment, she… she didn’t want to hear this. She had accepted, or at least she was trying to accept, to at least some extent, that she had been a flawed pony, deeply, maybe even terribly flawed. She was trying to do better here in Remnant. She had asked for forgiveness, not for absolution.

She didn’t need Celestia to take all the burdens of responsibility of herself. She didn’t want that.

It was me, Princess, I failed you, I let you down

Please, Sunset, let me finish.

Even at this remove, Sunset could not help but look chastened at the rebuke. She could hear Celestia’s voice saying it as though they were sharing the room.

Of course, Princess. I’m sorry.

There was a pause, probably while Celestia considered her response.

It is true that the destiny that I once hoped for for you was not one for which you were suited. But the fault is mine, for placing too great a burden of expectation upon your shoulders at too young an age. With the benefit of hindsight, I’m not sure that any filly’s ego could have survived being told that they were expected to ascend. That yours was unequal to the challenge says less about your faults than about my own poor judgement.

Sunset could not quite keep the envy and, yes, the touch of bitterness out of her pen strokes as she wrote back. Twilight Sparkle’s ego seems to have held up.

Twilight was completely ignorant of her destiny until she arrived at it. That was the lesson that you taught me: Twilight grew up knowing nothing of my hopes for her until she had achieved them.

Sunset could not help but let out a little chuckle. So what you’re telling me, Princess, is that you failed with me and then learnt how to do it right the second time around.

Yes, you could say that. And all I can do now is apologise for my failings as a teacher.

Sunset sighed. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply once, in and out, and then again a second time. Then she began to write. You have no need to apologise to me, Princess Celestia. Not for that, at least. The truth is, I don’t think it could have worked out anyway.

No? That was not your opinion when we last saw each other.

So, they had come to that at last. It was always inevitable. Celestia had been very kind in not bringing it up beforehand. But they couldn’t avoid the circumstances of Sunset’s departure – from Celestia’s tutelage, from the palace, and from Equestria itself – any longer.

But Sunset found that she did want to avoid it, for at least a little while more.

My best friend is a girl named Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha Nikos?

Sunset frowned. Yes. Some of the names they use here would be familiar to you, but others are a little stranger.

Extraordinary, but not because the name is strange; rather, because it is familiar to me. I have in the guard a young unicorn by the name of Pyrrha Nikos.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Really? That both does and doesn’t surprise me, Princess Celestia. It doesn’t because I’ve known for some time that there were those in this world who bore an uncanny resemblance to people who live in Equestria; why, in my previous school before coming to Beacon I’d already met the Twilight Sparkle of this world.

Indeed.

Yes. She hesitated about whether or not to admit the truth, before realising that Princess Celestia in her wisdom could probably divine it in any case. You might not be surprised to know that I didn’t like her very much. But I am surprised to learn that a Pyrrha Nikos, though she exists, has found her way into your service; if there is any geographical correlation between our worlds, she ought to be a long way from home.

It is true that Pyrrha has travelled far, from the far south of Equestria. But she is brave and eager to serve. My captain has nothing but praise for her.

If she is anything like the Pyrrha of Remnant, that does not surprise me.

Is it not fascinating that it should be so? That our worlds should not only be linked, but that names and natures should occur in common on either side of the mirror? Twilight, I am sure, will be as amazed as I am. But you had a point to make, and I have distracted you from it. Please, Sunset, continue.

As I said, she’s my best friend. You’d be amazed at how hard it was for me to admit that. Or perhaps you wouldn’t. Perhaps it doesn’t surprise you at all. Anyway, she’s great. A great warrior. Superlative. Even with all the magic at my command, I can barely keep up with her, and if I didn’t have magic, then she’d tear me apart without breaking a sweat like she does everybody else. And she’s kind and beautiful, and she’s always willing to help others. But she’s lonely. Even though she’s talented and lovely and kind, she doesn’t have anyone she can open her heart to. Nobody told her that she was expected to ascend; there’s no immortal teacher making plans for her that have made her proud, because like I said, she isn’t proud at all. But the very fact of her skill sets her apart; the simple act of being her in all her glory raises her up so far that nobody can get close to her. With the best intentions, she doesn’t have a friend in the world.

It sounds like she has you now.

Sunset cleared her throat, for all that Celestia couldn’t see or hear it. Well, yes, and she has Jaune and Ruby as well – they’re our teammates – I suppose what I meant was that she didn’t have any. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that even if you’d told me nothing, it might not have made any difference. I still would have been mean and proud and vain and kind of awful, now that I look back, and I still would have been in that place as your student and so talented. Honestly, I’m not sure how Twilight Sparkle managed to make any friends when someone like Pyrrha couldn’t manage it.

To be perfectly honest, I had to send Twilight away to Ponyville before she connected with anyone sufficiently deeply.

Oh, so that’s what she’s doing in a place like that. That explains it.

Could you please tell me more about her? And about Ruby and Jaune, your other friends?

Really? Why?

I’d like to know what kind of people your friends are. I’m curious to know who they are who were able to open up your heart.

Sunset blinked, she felt as though she had something caught in her eye. You still care?

I always cared about you, Sunset. You may not have believed it, but that does not make it any less true.

But everything that I said, everything that happened. I was afraid

Sunset hesitated a moment before she finished that sentence. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to forgive me.

There is nothing for me to forgive.

Nothing? Nothing at all?

You were angry, you had that right. But I was only ever afraid.

Afraid?

Afraid of what might happen to you in the world that lies beyond the mirror, afraid of what might happen to you, afraid, I must confess, of what your anger and impatience might drive you to become. But I had hope as well. I hoped, very much, that you might find your path. And it seems that you have done so.

I don’t know about that, although I am trying. Princess, can I ask you a question?

Of course.

When I was studying under you, you made me believe - or at least you allowed me to believe - that I had a destiny. A great destiny. You made me believe it so much that I went all the way to another world looking for it. Was that a lie? Was it always a lie? Or is destiny like Pyrrha says: something that we control by our own actions, and I just messed up that badly?

She wanted to know, and yet, she didn’t, but ultimately, Sunset knew that she had to ask. She would have no peace until she did.

She waited, expectant and afraid, for the answer.

I wish that I had an answer to give you, Sunset; I really do. But I do not. I believe in destiny. I have tried to build a society in which all ponies may fulfill their destinies, but mark that: they need help to fulfil them. Perhaps it is not so, perhaps destiny is fixed and immutable, but if that is the case, then what price any of our actions? Are we merely puppets, doing the bidding of some ineffable force?

I always thought you were the puppet master.

No, Sunset, I do not pull the strings, or at least, I try not to. I merely try to set the course so that the river may flow in the manner that is best for everybody. Of course, there is a possibility that you did not mention.

What’s that, Princess?

That you have a destiny but I was mistaken about it where it lay. Not in Canterlot, but somewhere else. Sunset, are you happy where you are? Although there is no cause for you to return to rescue me, I want you to know that you will always be welcome in Equestria, should you decide that you want to come home.

You can’t know how it feels for you to say that.

She barely knew how it felt for Celestia to say that, only that was she glad that Celestia had said it.

But I don’t think I’m ready to come back yet. I’m not even sure I should be calling Equestria home. Back there, I only had you. Now

Sunset paused for a moment.

Maybe my destiny is here. Or maybe it isn’t. But this world seems like it could use a hero, and my team needs me, and

Sunset, there is no shame in saying that you want to stay that you have found friends and a place to belong. If that is the case, I could not be happier.

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. It’s easier to be good when I’m with them.

They must be wonderful people.

They are. Pyrrha’s just great, and Ruby’s so sweet and brave, and even Jaune, I have to give Jaune credit for courage, I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to do what he’s done.

Tell me more. Tell me about your friends, tell me about the world you live in now, tell me about your life. Tell me everything, Sunset. I want to know what’s become of you since you’ve been away.

Sunset sucked on the end of her pen and pondered for a moment. I hardly know where to start…

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter combines the chapters 'Echoes of Summer' and 'A Long Overdue Correspondence' together, with a Jaune and Pyrrha scene added in the middle. The new chapter title reflects the fact that the chapter is no longer just about Summer Rose, but about mothers more generally: Ruby and Yang get to hear their mother speaking to them; Sunset actually gets to talk to her mother-figure, and Jaune talks about his mother to Pyrrha.

The Hero with Silver Eyes (Rewritten)

The Hero with Silver Eyes

Sunset leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. “A silver-eyed warrior? That’s what your mother called herself?”

“Yes,” Ruby said, having told her teammates all about what she had learned as soon as Jaune and Pyrrha returned from their training. “She talked about her eyes a couple of times without explaining why, and then she called herself a Silver-Eyed Warrior, and she said that, during her initiation, she… she did something with her eyes and it killed a whole bunch of grimm.”

“Could it be a semblance?” Pyrrha suggested, “a particularly powerful one, projected through the eyes?”

Ruby frowned. “Yang and I thought that as well, but it doesn’t seem that way. I mean, what kind of semblance tires you out if you use it just once? What kind of semblance gives you a name like Silver-Eyed Warrior?” She hesitated. “I’m not crazy, right? There’s something more to it? You agree with me, don’t you?”

She wanted them to believe her. She wanted her teammates - her friends - to agree with her that there was something more to it than just a semblance, that there were things that it being a semblance couldn’t explain.

She wanted them to believe her so that she could believe it herself.

The four members of team SAPR sat in their dorm room. Ruby was sitting on her bed, not far from the carving that Mom and Dad and their old team had made in the wall and the markings that her team had made just above it. Sunset and Jaune were sat on Pyrrha’s bed next to hers, while Pyrrha herself had taken a chair.

All their eyes were fixed on Ruby.

Sunset clenched and unclenched her fists. “Doesn’t your mother’s journal tell you anything more?”

Ruby hesitated. “Well… we’ve only read the first two entries.”

“You could read on.”

Ruby shook her head. “Not without Yang; it wouldn’t be right. And Yang… Yang wants to take it slow.”

“But you want answers?”

Ruby nodded.

“Then keep reading, don’t tell her, and act surprised when you go through it with her the second time.”

“Sunset!” Ruby exclaimed.

“What?”

“Not cool!”

“I think that Ruby is hoping for some advice that doesn’t involve lying to her sister,” Pyrrha pointed out gently. She smiled at Ruby, with equal gentleness and a measure of encouragement that Ruby needed.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “I see. You want to do this the hard way.”

“I am right, aren’t I?” Ruby asked. “This sounds like more than just a semblance.”

“It reminds me of something,” Pyrrha murmured. She put her fingers to her chin and looked away, her brow furrowing in thought. “I just can’t quite remember where.”

“You’ve got a point that most semblances don’t get you a proper noun,” Sunset mused. “Not to mention the fact that semblances are unique, so there wouldn’t be a plural anyway.”

“Aren’t some semblances hereditary?” Jaune asked. “I mean, Weiss-”

Sunset leaned just a little away from Jaune so that she could look at him sideways a little more effectively. “How do you know that?”

“I know things,” Jaune replied, a little defensively.

“I mean, you’re right, the Schnees have a hereditary semblance,” Sunset said. “But even so, we don’t go around calling them Glyph Warriors.”

“The way that Mom described it, the way that she talked about it, it sounded like it was something people would know,” Ruby said. “But I’ve never heard of it.”

“Your mom did grow up outside the kingdoms,” Jaune said. “She might not have had the best idea of what people in Vale would or wouldn’t know.”

“Maybe, I guess.”

“From what you’ve described, it sounds as though she was worried that she would be treated differently from others, put upon a pedestal once her possession of… whatever it was, was discovered,” Pyrrha said. “However, that could be… where do I remember that term?”

“Silver-eyed warriors,” Sunset murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that. But you know what it does remind me of? The Warrior in the Woods, the first story in the book of fairy tales we’re studying for Legends of Remnant.”

“‘I fell in love with her the moment I saw her silver eyes,'” Ruby murmured.

“Exactly,” Sunset said firmly. “I have never seen anyone with eyes of silver before. Even when I was living… outside the kingdoms myself, I never met another living soul with silver eyes. At the time, that line struck me as odd, as though it was hinting at something more significant, and now, I’m sure of it.”

“But the story didn’t say anything about the Warrior in the Woods killing grimm with her eyes,” Jaune said. He frowned. “Or did it, and I wasn’t paying attention?”

“No, you’re right,” Sunset conceded. “The means by which the warrior protects the community are left ambiguous.” She leaned forward, cupping her chin. “It’s entirely possible that at the time the story was… told, elaborated, created, whatever word you want to use, knowledge of silver-eyed… what it is that silver eyes can do was so commonplace that it wasn’t thought worth elaborating on. Once the audience heard ‘silver eyes,’ then it would all slot into place for them. Only now, we’ve lost the knowledge that would contextualise that detail. So we’re left with the impression that he fell in love with her because she had pretty eyes.”

“I think that’s still the impression, even if her eyes had powers,” Jaune said. “I mean… no one falls in love with someone because they have unique abilities, but beautiful eyes… yeah, I could see that.”

“Gag me,” Sunset muttered. “I don’t suppose anyone knows of any other fairy stories that talk about silver eyes?”

“Of course!” Pyrrha cried. “That’s it!”

Jaune looked up. “That’s what?”

“Other fairy stories,” Pyrrha said. “That’s where I remember hearing about silver eyes.” She twisted around in her chair, rocking it back on its hind legs as she reached for one of the books on her shelf. She grabbed an old volume, well cared for but starting to show its age nonetheless. As Pyrrha opened the book, and just before she put it down on her lap, Ruby caught a look at the cover – an illustration of a princess in a beautiful gown – and a look at the title: Fairy Tales for All Seasons.

“Never took you for a fan of fairy stories,” Sunset observed. “I thought heroic epics were more your thing.”

“I’ve had this book since I was a child,” Pyrrha replied. She didn’t look up; she kept leafing through the pages of the book. She was silent for a moment or two, her eyes scanning the pages as she flicked from one to the other. “Here we are: the story of the Dragon and the Two Sons.” She glanced up at them. “Do you mind if I read it to you? It’s probably better than me trying to summarise it.”

Sunset shrugged. Jaune looked at Ruby. Ruby nodded. “Sure, go ahead Pyrrha.”

“Very well,” Pyrrha said. She cleared her throat softly, paused, and then began. “Once upon a time, in a kingdom now forgotten, there lived an old man who had two sons. The elder son was a strong young man, irresistible in a contest of strength or speed; the younger son did not seem particularly strong, nor particularly wise, but he had a good and humble heart, and he was always ready to help any soul in need. He had also been blessed at birth with eyes of silver, and many remarked on how unusual this was, and it was even said by some that this young man had been marked by fate to do great things.”

“This sounds promising,” Sunset said. “It sounds like even in the days when this story originated, people weren’t sure anymore what it was that having silver eyes meant. This must be a more recent story than the Warrior in the Woods – which might be one reason why it isn’t on the curriculum; it’s not old enough to make the cut – and hopefully, it will go into some detail, since silver eyes have passed out of the realm of cultural currency.”

“We can hope,” Pyrrha said softly. “May I continue?”

“Sorry,” Sunset said. “Be my guest.”

Pyrrha nodded. “His brother, hearing this, was consumed with jealousy at the very idea that his humble brother might outshine him. And so he mocked his younger brother and laughed at the idea that he would ever achieve anything of note, and while he amused himself, he forced his brother to clean and cook and tend his house.”

“He sounds like me,” Sunset muttered.

Ruby tried to imagine Yang treating her that way, forcing Ruby to become her servant. Ruby! Wash my dress, I’m going clubbing tonight! Nah, she just couldn’t see it.

“Meanwhile,” Pyrrha continued, “a dragon had come to the kingdom and begun to lay waste to everything that lay in its path. It burned whole villages, devoured whole farms worth of livestock, and the people cried out to their king for protection, but all the King’s knights could not stand before the dragon and its wrath.

Desperate, the King sent out word throughout his realm: that whosoever should kill the dragon would receive not only the hand in marriage of either his son or his daughter, as they should choose, but that they should succeed him as ruler of the entire kingdom when his time came.”

Pyrrha went on, “When the brothers heard this news, the eldest was filled with excitement and declared that he would surely be the one to slay the dragon and win both the princess and the kingdom for himself. And so, his father sold all his belongings to buy a horse and armour for his son, who set out full of pride, confident in his strength and his skill.

“The elder son rode away, passing through a dark forest, along a winding trail up a steep mountainside, until he came to a deep, dark cave. And in that cave, he met the dragon.

“’So,’ the dragon said. ‘You have come to kill me? What makes you think you will succeed where all others have failed?’

“‘I will surely triumph,’ replied the eldest son. ‘For you will not withstand my strength.’

“’Is that so?’ said the dragon, and he smiled before he attacked. Though the elder son was strong and swift, and though the battle between them was long and hard, the first brother was no match for the power and ferocity of the dragon. The beast devoured him and turned his remains to ashes.”

“I thought this was a kids’ book,” Sunset mumbled.

Ruby shushed her.

“The father of the two sons fell into despair, for he had lost not only his precious son, but also all that he owned providing for his doomed venture. And so, when the younger son declared that now he would seek out the dragon, his father begged him not to go. But the younger brother was determined. He could no longer stand by while people were killed and forced from their homes. He had to do something, no matter the risk.

“And so, with only a simple wooden staff to lean upon and a faithful dog to keep him company along the road, the younger son walked through the dark forest and along the winding trail up the steep mountainside until he came to a deep, dark cave. And in that cave, he found the dragon.

“’So,” the dragon said. ‘You have come to kill me? What makes you think you will succeed where all others have failed?’

“’I have no weapons,’ the younger son said. ‘I am not great in strength. But my heart is pure, and my intent is noble, and my virtue will be my sword and armour against your evil.’

“When he heard this, the dragon laughed, for he did not believe that a simple soul could stand before his strength, his malice, his will to destroy and to devour all things. And so, he leapt upon the young man and opened his mouth to swallow him whole. But as the dragon attacked, the younger son’s silver eyes began to glow brightly. Ever brighter they glowed, until they outshone the moon itself, and the light from his silver eyes could be seen all across the unhappy kingdom. The dragon screamed, and for the first time, it knew fear, but it was too late.

“When the light from the young man’s eyes died down, the dragon had been turned to stone.

“The King rejoiced that the threat to his kingdom had been ended, but the younger son refused any reward, saying that he had done only what was right and just, for which he deserved no special praise or honour. He asked only that his aged father be cared for, having lost all that he had.

“But the King recognised that here was a young man of especial promise, not only powerful but good and brave. He insisted that he should marry the princess and take his place at court as heir to the throne. The princess was beautiful and kind, and the young man was so good-natured that they were very happy together, and with the power of his eyes, the young man, who became known throughout the kingdom as the Hero with Silver Eyes, protected his realm from all evils for as long as he lived.” Pyrrha shut the book, to indicate that the story was over.

“So, Ruby’s mom could turn grimm into stone?” Jaune asked.

“Not necessarily,” Pyrrha said. “It’s a nice story, but it’s still just a fairy-tale.”

“But something’s real,” Ruby said. “My mom talks about it, a silver-eyed warrior? You agreed that it meant something.”

“Some fairytales have a basis in fact,” Sunset said softly. “Maybe… maybe there’s something to it.”

The four of them were silent for a moment.

It was Jaune who said what Ruby was thinking, and probably what Sunset and Pyrrha were thinking as well. “Do you think that Ruby could do that too? I mean, you’ve got silver eyes.”

Ruby didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what she could possibly say in response to that. If her mom could do it, and it really did have something do with silver eyes, then maybe… she imagined herself briefly standing in front of a whole army of grimm, turning them to stone just by looking at them, while Yang and Pyrrha and Sunset and Jaune and Dad and Uncle Qrow and everybody just stood back and watched in awe. That would be pretty awesome. But then…

If Mom was that awesome, then why didn’t she come home?

Ruby looked around the room. Jaune looked as overwhelmed as Ruby felt right about now, Pyrrha was looking at Ruby as though she was more concerned with her than with anything to do with silver eyed warriors or the like, and Sunset… Sunset looked intrigued, and a little bit greedy too. To be honest, there was a look in Sunset’s eyes that kind of put Ruby in mind of the dragon in Pyrrha’s story, smiling at the arrogance of the elder brother who thought he would kill it.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked.

Sunset’s gaze flickered up to meet Ruby’s eyes. Ruby’s silver eyes.

“You have silver eyes.”

There had to be something in it. Professor Ozpin had mentioned her eyes specifically, the same way that he’d taken an interest in Mom. It occurred to Ruby that maybe Professor Ozpin had left the diary for Sunset to find, trusting that they would follow the clues to solve the mystery. She couldn’t exactly think why he would do such a thing, but it made a kind of sense in her head, although she didn’t mention it out loud for fear that it would stop making so much sense once she actually told someone about it.

“How far,” Sunset said, her voice surprisingly mild, “do you want to take this?”

“I want to find out the truth about my mom,” Ruby replied.

“That’s not what I asked,” Sunset pressed. “If we find out what it means to be a Silver-Eyed Warrior, that will tell you everything you need to know about your mother, but is that it? If it turns out that you have this power too, do you want to know? Do you want to learn how to use it? Are you prepared to work to master it? How far do you want to take this?”

“Sunset, ease off,” Jaune said. “You can’t expect Ruby to make all of these decisions straight away. You sound like you’re asking her to commit everything to… to whatever this is!”

“And if I am?” Sunset asked. “I committed everything to mastering my power when I was a lot younger than Ruby.”

“So did I,” Pyrrha said, with a voice touched by a sudden chill, “but it doesn’t mean that Ruby has to repeat our mistake.”

Sunset scowled, and then she looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to… I suppose I’d like to get something out of all this and to know that you’re prepared to work towards that end.”

“If it will help, I am.”

“Ruby,” Pyrrha said gently, “you don’t have to commit to anything you don’t want to.”

“Maybe Mom didn’t have a kind of power like the one in the fairytale,” Ruby said. “Maybe being a silver-eyed warrior isn’t all that big of a deal. But what if it is? What if… what if I could really help people, save them, like the younger son in the story? Then… then I should do it, shouldn’t I? I mean… I kind of have to, don’t I?”

Mom… I promise that I’ll make you proud.

Sunset smiled and raised one hand into the air. “Who’s up for a research project? All in favour of discovering the truth about silver-eyed warriors, helping Ruby answer her questions about her mother and unlocking a power able to defeat the grimm say ‘aye.’”

Jaune raised his hand. “Uh, sure, yeah. I’ll help you. I don’t know how much I’ll actually be able to help, but, sure, I’ll do what I can, Ruby.”

“Thanks, Jaune,” Ruby said, favouring him a warm smile. “I really appreciate it.”

“And me,” Pyrrha said. “Count me in.”

“Okay!” Ruby said, leaping up from her bed. “Let’s do it!”

Sunset scowled. “None of you said ‘aye.’”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Pretty minor changes to this chapter, just to incorporate the fact that there is another canon fairytale which makes passing reference to silver eyes.

Study Session (New)

Study Session

As much as Sunset might have liked to have dived straight into researching Ruby’s potential powers, there was just one problem standing in the way: this was a school, and they had quarter-term tests.

It was probably for the best that these weren’t formal exams, with two notable exceptions. Professor Goodwitch had announced that she would be holding four on four tournament-style matches between teams that would determine not only the rankings of each team in terms of their performance, but would also serve as a test of the leadership of each team leader. Professor Port, although he was setting a written paper, had let it be known that he would also be conducting a practical test by dropping the students into the Emerald Forest to hunt down the roving remnants of the horde that the team leaders had shattered during a training mission the week earlier. For the rest, written papers had been assigned not in the formal exam style of everyone sitting in a hall, but more like extended homework: an essay or essays designed to cover everything taught in the first four weeks of the semester.

That was all for the best, because Sunset had no doubt at all that exam conditions would have led to an absolute bloodbath for Team SAPR.

As it was, things were unlikely to be brilliant. Sunset was, of course, acing all her academic subjects, and Pyrrha was as intelligent as she was strong as she was beautiful, and learned in lore besides; Sunset was only a little ashamed to admit that Pyrrha consistently scored higher than she did in Legends of Remnant. The other half of the team, on the other hand, was much more of a mixed bag. Ruby was definitely suffering from missing out on two years of her expected combat school education; she was foundering in History, Dust Science, and Plant Science, and even in those subjects where she had the knowledge – Grimm Studies and Legends of Remnant – she struggled to get that knowledge down on paper to the standard expected of a Beacon student. Jaune, country bumpkin that he was, still possessed a degree of knowledge in Plant Science and Fieldcraft gifted to him by his rustic upbringing, but three weeks of going practically without sleep had taken its toll even there, and he was still next to clueless in Grimm Studies, History, and Legends. In an exam setting, these inadequacies would have been brutally exposed, and worse, might have also exposed the fact that Sunset had spent most of the first quarter of the semester writing Jaune’s essays for him in order to avoid getting into trouble. Sunset couldn’t help but think that she would get into even more trouble if she were found to have been perpetuating several weeks’ worth of cheating.

Thankfully, they were not required to sit a formal exam, and while Sunset had no expectation of great grades from Ruby and Jaune in the non-combat written essays – she expected the team to place highly in both the sparring and Grimm Studies practicals – it did at least afford the opportunity to… help out the underperforming members of the team.

And so, as much as Sunset would have liked to have gotten to grips with silver eyes and the exact nature of Ruby’s powers, the next evening after dinner saw the team gathered in the library for the more prosaic purpose of getting a start on their quarter-term papers.

“Right,” Sunset said, as they all sat down, “we’ll start with history.”

“Shouldn’t we take a vote on where we start?” Jaune asked dispiritedly.

Sunset gave him an imperious gaze. “Why would we need a vote when we have a leader?”

“I thought you were being nice now,” Jaune protested.

“My newfound kindness is manifesting itself in the fact that I’m not going to let you sink in these quarter-terms on your own,” Sunset replied. “History, come on. We’ll get to Plant Science in good time.” It was, perhaps, a little selfish on her part to start with a subject that she liked and was good at, but so long as they covered the other subjects too, it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t looking forward to Plant Science; she could get the written word portions of the course done, but she kind of missed the days when a test involving a plant had just meant casting a spell on it to make it grow.

Jaune groaned, and Ruby looked a little dispirited too as they got out the history papers that Doctor Oobleck had set them. There were some short, source-based questions and an essay to cap the whole thing off.

“Why do we have to answer these questions about sources and bias?” Jaune griped. “It’s not like we’re here to learn how to become historians; even if we need to learn history-”

“It is important, Jaune,” Pyrrha told him, slightly reproachfully. “If we don’t understand where our world came from, then how can we safeguard it?”

“By killing monsters?” Jaune suggested.

“Being a huntsman is about so much more thank killing monsters,” Blake Belladonna declared as she emerged from behind one of the nearby library shelves. She had a stack of books in her arms, hugged against her chest. “The world is bedevilled by so many more evils than just the creatures of grimm: inequality, prejudice, corruption; it’s the duty of a huntsman to stand against these injustices, to be a light of hope in the world, to be-”

“A paragon of virtue,” Pyrrha murmured.

Blake was silent for a moment. She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Professor Ozpin said the same thing to me,” Jaune admitted. “I just never thought that it meant studying history.”

“Like Pyrrha said,” Blake replied. “how can you defend the world if you don’t understand how it came to be? And the answer to your earlier question is that Doctor Oobleck isn’t trying to train a historian. He’s trying to teach critical thinking: how to analyse evidence and make judgements based on that rational analysis. In the field, you may have to analyse witness statements and make estimates of the strength and location of the enemy, even base your decisions as to what to do next on that analysis.”

“I, right,” Jaune said. He looked across the table at Sunset. “Why couldn’t you phrase it like that instead of just telling me to get my head down and do it?”

“Because… because you should just get down and do it because you’ve been told to,” Sunset informed him sharply. “That’s what school is.” She turned on her chair, so that she had her back to Jaune and was facing Blake, who had just delivered the longest speech that Sunset had yet heard out of the taciturn, raven-haired girl. “Evening,” Sunset said. “Are you here to study for quarter-terms as well?”

“Yes,” Blake said, “I’m sorry if I disturbed you; I’ll get out of your hair.”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

“They… went to a movie with Dove from Team Iron,” Blake admitted.

“You let them?” Sunset asked incredulously.

“Should I have stopped them?” Blake asked, equably but with a touch of puzzlement.

“Yes,” Sunset declared. “And made them hit the books with you. You think Jaune wouldn’t rather be at the movies?”

“Hey!” Jaune exclaimed. “I’m willing to work!”

“Good for you; it seems that’s more than can be said for Team Bluebell or Dove,” Sunset said. And for that matter, why is Yang letting him get away with this?

“I… don’t really want to be the kind of leader who bullies their teammates,” Blake said.

Sunset spluttered. “Excuse me, I do not bully my teammates. I… direct them, firmly but with an even hand, in the right direction. It’s called leadership. You know what the right thing is - you’re doing it yourself - and it’s your job to communicate that to your-” Sunset stopped short of saying ‘underlings,’ “-to the others.”

“Maybe Bluebell don’t need to study so hard for quarter-terms because they know it all,” Ruby suggested. “But... why didn’t they ask you to go to the movie with them? That’s pretty rude.”

“And why would they ask Sky, I know he’s their teammate but I haven’t seem them hanging out with him be-” Sunset began, then stopped as she realised exactly why they had invited Sky. “Oh. Oh, Celestia.”

“What’s the matter?” Pyrrha asked in a puzzled voice.

“It’s the harem joke I made; it’s gotten under his skin so much that he invited a second guy to come along so it will look more respectable,” Sunset said. She groaned. “That guy, honestly.”

“Dove’s pretty nice,” Ruby said. “He gave me The Song of Olivia when he didn’t have to.”

“Maybe, but he’s such a stuffed shirt,” Sunset replied. “I mean… anyway.”

Ruby frowned. “If they wanted a second boy, then why didn’t he ask Ren?”

“Ren would have wanted to take Nora, if he wanted to go at all,” Jaune said. “What movie did they go and see?”

“Uh,” Blake looked as though she were trying to remember. “I think it was… Die Well on an Atlesian Cruiser?”

“No, that’s what kind of a film it is, not the title,” Sunset explained. “You see Die Well is a classic thriller starring Spruce Willis that spawned a host of copycats using the premise of a… you know what, it doesn’t matter. What matters is… what matters is… where were we going with this?”

“Why didn’t your team invite you to come to the movie with them?” Ruby asked again.

“I’m not much of a movie type,” Blake said. “I’ve got enough studying to do to keep me occupied.”

“Well, you’re welcome to join us,” Ruby declared. “Right, guys?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha agreed. “The more the merrier, as they say.”

“Sure,” Sunset said, with less enthusiasm but not actual distaste.

Blake stared at them all, her expression inscrutable. “Thank you,” she said quietly, before she walked around the library table to take the free seat next to Ruby, opposite Pyrrha. “So, you’re starting with Modern History. Essay questions or sources?”

“Why don’t we get the essay out of the way first, seeing as we’re in the library?” Sunset said. “We can do the source questions back in the dorm room if need be, but we’ve got all the books here if we need them.” That was why they had come to the library in the first place, after all.

Sunset glanced down at the paper in front of her. Doctor Oobleck had set two essay questions, of which they would need to answer both: How did the Four Kingdoms endeavour to ensure that there would not be another Great War and to what extent were their efforts successful? Why were the Four Kingdoms defeated in the Faunus Rights Revolution?

“That first question is easy, isn’t it?” Jaune asked. “I mean, there hasn’t been another Great War, so their efforts must have been successful.”

“Not necessarily,” Sunset and Blake both said at the same time. They both glanced at each other.

Blake gestured for Sunset to continue. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. I’m only a guest here.”

Sunset nodded. “So, what the question is getting at is, was it the efforts of the Four Kingdoms to prevent war that actually prevented war, or were there other factors that ensured the preservation of peace?”

Jaune stared at her. “Uh… can it be both?”

“It usually is, with these kinds of questions,” Sunset said. “The important thing is how you get to the conclusion of both and build your argument to support it.”

“As well as qualifying where the balance lies,” Pyrrha added.

Jaune sighed. “This stuff makes my head hurt.”

“Me too,” Ruby groaned. “Is the other question any easier?”

“Possibly,” Pyrrha said. She spoke quietly, although her voice nevertheless carried in the nearly silent library. “It seems to be mostly a question of facts, not interpretation.”

“That’s a matter for debate,” Blake muttered.

Sunset looked across the table at her, eyes narrowing. “No,” she said. “It isn’t. The question is ‘How did the kingdoms lose the war?’ Introduction, fact, fact, fact, fact, conclusion.”

“But the very wording of the questions is interpretive,” Blake replied, with some heat entering her voice.

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked.

“I mean… how are you planning to answer this question?” Blake turned the question back on them.

“Mistralian generalship and the failure of the Fabian strategy, that’s one paragraph,” Sunset said. “Military weakness after the Great War, that’s another paragraph. Paragraph three: Valish reluctance to get involved. Paragraph four: domestic unrest in Mantle.”

“All human issues,” Blake said. “You haven’t even mentioned the faunus once in your entire argument. The question could have been phrased ‘why did the faunus win the war?’ or even ‘why did the war end with the outcome that it did?’ for neutrality, but instead, it has been worded in such a way as to allow you, to allow everyone, to treat one whole side in the war as if they had no agency at all in a war fought over the question of their freedom! I know that Doctor Oobleck means well and that he doesn’t consider himself a bigot, but when he taught the Battle of Fort Castle he didn’t even mention the name of Ares Claudandus once.”

“Who?” Ruby asked.

“Exactly,” Blake said. “He commanded the faunus armies throughout the war, including at Fort Castle, but he has been almost completely forgotten. Yes, General Lagune was foolish to attempt a night attack against the faunus, but he still might have succeeded if Claudandus hadn’t had his forces standing by against such an eventuality. On the day before the battle, Claudandus sent two thousand troops under the command of his brother Apollo on a flank march, and it was those troops, emerging into the rear of Lagune’s column, that caused irreversible panic to set in amongst the human forces, but who here knew that?”

“I did,” Pyrrha said mildly.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Then… you are an unusual human.”

“I’m a human who has read Virgil,” Pyrrha replied. “In Mistral, that would not be thought unusual. At least… not amongst certain circles. Ares Claudandus is fulsomely characterised there, if somewhat demonised at times, and his battle plans and strategies are recounted in detail.”

Blake looked somewhat mollified to hear it. “I’m glad, I… I spent some time in Mistral when I was younger, but I never actually got around to reading Virgil; would you recommend it?”

“It depends on your tastes,” Pyrrha replied. “What is your tolerance for heroic literature?”

Blake smiled, just a little. “I note that you said ‘what is my tolerance’ as if there is no way that I could enjoy it.”

“I just meant,” Pyrrha began, “that is, I didn’t mean to imply that… it is something of an acquired taste if you are not a Mistralian raised upon the subject.”

“Blake likes weird stories, don’t you?” Ruby asked. “Like that story you were reading on the night before Initiation? The girl with two souls.”

“With half a soul,” Blake corrected her. “But I thought we were talking about history, not stories.”

“Virgil writes in the style of a story, in many respects,” Pyrrha said. “History as a tale of heroes and…”

“And villains?” Blake suggested.

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “Although the true villains of the tale are not the faunus, but the populist politicians who mishandle the war, while the heroes are the patricians who restore order to Mistral after the chaos of two military defeats.”

“Your ancestor amongst them?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha’s entire face turned bright red. “I… I wish you hadn’t mentioned that, Sunset,” she murmured.

"Why not?" Sunset asked in genuine befuddlement. "You're not ashamed, are you?"

"No, I'm not ashamed," Pyrrha replied softly. "But… all the same, I wish you hadn't mentioned it."

"Mentioned… what?" Jaune said. "Pyrrha, what's Sunset talking about?"

Pyrrha bowed her head, looking down at the quarter-term paper and the books in front of her. "I… my great-great-grandfather was the third son of the Emperor of Mistral. He was the only one of the Imperial princes to survive the great war. I am descended from him, and from the Emperor who laid down his crown at the end of the war, and of all the Emperors and Empresses who ruled Mistral between that time and this. My mother… my mother is the legitimate claimant to the throne of Mistral." Pyrrha trembled just a little and stole sneaking glances towards Jaune and Ruby, as if she were trying to gauge their reaction without being too obvious about it.

Jaune's mouth was hanging open wide. Blake had leaned back in her chair as if she were seeing Pyrrha through fresh eyes. Ruby's eyes, meanwhile, were wide as saucers.

"Wow," Ruby said. "You're like an actual fairytale princess."

Pyrrha's laughter rang out clear and high across the library. Pyrrha laughed, and all the tension that had gathered around their table was blown away by it. Sunset wondered a little if that hadn't been the point of Ruby's intervention.

"Thank you, Ruby," Pyrrha said, as she got her laughter under control at least in part. "That's very kind of you to say, but I wouldn't be so presumptuous. It doesn't really mean anything now."

"So?" Sunset said. "If I was the heir to a throne, you wouldn't hear me shut up about it."

"That doesn't surprise me," Jaune muttered.

"Technically speaking, you can't be the heir to a throne that is empty," Pyrrha replied. "As I said, my mother is the legitimate claimant to the throne, but she does not exercise her claim. I'm just… Pyrrha Nikos."

Are you? Or do you just hope that that is all you'll be?

"Is that why you didn't say anything?" Jaune inquired. "On that first morning, when we went for a run, we talked about my family, and then before we could talk about yours, you decided that we were done for the morning, even though… even though you must have a few heroes in your family history. Probably more than me."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed, although she made the concession in a tone so gentle that no one could think her proud for it. "I don't deny that I have… some ancestors whose deeds are well known, in Mistral, at least. And despite what you may think, Sunset, I am not ashamed of that; the examples of my line, their courage, their generosity, their nobility of spirit, teach me how to behave as a huntress and a warrior. But nor do I wish to be proud. So my name is Nikos; it is a good name, but it does not transform me into other than what I am."

"But... you said that your people believe – and the way that you said it means that you must believe it too – that we inherit strength from our ancestors," Jaune reminded her. "Doesn't that mean that you're stronger than any of us?"

"She is stronger than any of us," Sunset pointed out bluntly.

"Do you actually believe that?" Blake asked. "That's rather… old-fashioned and elitist, don't you think?"

"It can be used to justify elitism," Pyrrha allowed. "But in itself… none of us sprang sui generis into the world. We are all the product of those that came before us. Ruby's mother, Jaune's ancestors, my lineage, we are all strengthened by those who came before; their spirits walk beside us. The fact that my ancestors are better known, their deeds more well-recorded, than the lines of Jaune or Ruby or Sunset does not change the fact that there are lines and deeds and strength. Please, this is why I didn't want to bring it up; I didn't want you to… we are all huntsmen, or training to be huntsmen, to venture out into the world and do battle with the monsters that assail it. That is glory enough to dim the light of any crown in Remnant, and in that glory, we are all equal."

Jaune looked as though he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that, but at the same time, he nodded. "Okay, if it means that much to you, then we won't bring it up. Your secret is safe with us." He cracked a smile. "Except maybe for some fairytale princess jokes."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to accept that, then."

"Well, you are brave and strong and kind and… and, uh, and we should probably get back to these essays, shouldn't we?" Jaune suggested.

"Unless anyone else has any ancestral revelations they would like to share?" Blake asked amusedly.

"You know, you never talk about your parents," Jaune pointed out, looking at Sunset.

"That's because my parents are thoroughly uninteresting," Sunset declared. So uninteresting that I don't even know who they are. "And you are correct, Jaune Arc; we should get back to these essays."

"So, after what Blake said, are we allowed to write about why the faunus won the war instead?" Ruby asked. "It seems like the right thing to do."

"Do you think you can write about why the faunus won the war?" Sunset asked. "If you do, well, then I think Doctor Oobleck will appreciate that you put the extra effort in, but if you do it badly, then you'd be better off sticking with a more conventional approach."

"I'd like to try and do the right thing," Ruby insisted.

"I wasn't actually trying to bully anyone into risking their grades," Blake said. "I was only pointing out that the structure of the question is... problematic."

"But you also said huntresses need to stand up for what's right," Ruby replied. "And that doesn't just mean on the battlefield."

"I agree," Pyrrha said. "It might be quite stretching to take a different approach."

"Are you sure about this?" Jaune asked nervously.

"You slept through all the lessons, so it will be new information for you either way," Sunset informed him.

"That… is an excellent point," Jaune admitted.

What followed was a lot more stimulating than Sunset had honestly expected at the start of the evening, drawing heavily upon Virgil books eighty-five to ninety, as well as some more obscure works that Blake recommended and which they found in the history section of the library. It felt less like educating Ruby and Jaune and more like they were all learning something, even if it was just a new perspective that they hadn't considered before.

As Team SAPR gathered up their books and essays to return to the dorm room at the end of the session, Sunset lingered for a moment, looking at Blake, to address a question that had been scratching at the back of her mind.

"I am… a little grateful for the suggestion," Sunset said. "But can I ask what brought this on? Why do you care that the question is framed from a human perspective?"

Blake looked at Sunset. Her ivory skin seemed even fairer in the moonlight streaming in through the library windows, making her seem almost ethereal. "Do you think that it's impossible for humans to be allies of the faunus in their fight for equality?"

Sunset snorted. "In my experience, it's more common for humans who befriend faunus to convince them that there isn't any equality left to fight for." Rainbow Dash, for instance, spent all her time hanging out with five humans – and with the connections at the highest levels that she'd forged as a result of her friendship with Twilight Sparkle - to the extent you'd be forgiven for thinking that she'd forgotten she was a faunus at all. Certainly, she'd never seen them work for faunus rights, unless you counted that cringe-inducing stunt from Sunset's first year at Canterlot.

"In Atlas?" Blake asked. When Sunset nodded, Blake went on, "I had a faunus friend who lived in Atlas for a while; that happened to her as well, but then… something happened to remind her that she was still a faunus, and there was still a great divide between faunus and humanity. Something like that always happens."

"It didn't happen where I could see it," Sunset replied. "Just like I never saw a human working for the faunus cause."

"How closely were you looking?" Blake replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sunset demanded.

"Just that you don't strike me as someone particularly invested in the idea of solidarity," Blake pointed out.

Sunset let out a bark of laughter. "I suppose not. But you do, for a people not your own?"

"My parents were members of the White Fang, before Sienna Khan took over," Blake explained. "Humans were allowed to join in those days; not in positions of leadership, but as allies. Sienna Khan purged them from the movement as part of her shift towards a more… radical approach, but I still remember my parents taking me on rallies and marches when I was a child. Just because I'm not a victim of bigotry against the faunus doesn't mean that I don't recognise injustice when I see it… even if I don't always have the courage to act on what I see."

Everyone Should Learn How to Have Fun (Rewritten)

Everyone Should Learn How to Have Fun

Ruby and Pyrrha walked down the street, and people made way for them. They made way for Pyrrha anyway. It was as though she had a kind of magnetism about her that caused them to part before her, like a ship ploughing through the ocean. She never had to struggle to force her way through the press of people, and neither did Ruby while she walked at Pyrrha's side.

People took pictures of Pyrrha as she walked by, and sometimes, those pictures included Ruby. It wouldn't have bothered her, the occasional flash in the eyes aside, but it did bother her that nobody seemed to care that it was, judging by the look on her face, clearly bothering Pyrrha.

After a couple of evenings spent working through the quarter-term papers – and with the promise of another evening of the same tonight and losing their Saturday morning to Professor Port's Grimm Studies practical – Sunset had agreed to let them have a break this Friday afternoon. For a definition of ‘break’ that meant that instead of working on quarter-terms, they were going to work on the mystery of silver eyes instead. Ruby had managed to beg enough spare time from Sunset to read through some more of her mother's journal entries with Yang, but they were entirely concerned with the minutia of Beacon life: classes and homework and complaints about the food. While it was fun to read about Mom going through the exact same things that Ruby and Yang were going through, and just as fun to read about the things that had been different at Beacon back in Mom and Dad's day, none of it was any help in solving the mystery that Summer Rose had so tantalisingly dangled before them.

So this afternoon, they had headed into Vale and, there, split up, Sunset taking Jaune, and Ruby going with Pyrrha. They were supposed to scour through Vale's bookshops looking for anything that might contain some information on silver eyes, like books on mythology that might reference other books which might have more information. At least, that was what Ruby thought Sunset had said, and Pyrrha seemed to understand it.

They were both armed and both dressed in their huntress outfits. Since their last trip into Vale, Ruby had taken to checking the news, and it seemed as though every few days, there was another report of a dust shop being robbed. Although the official line went that the perpetrators were unknown, Ruby was convinced that Roman Torchwick was behind it, just like on the night she and Sunset had met.

A part of her, one that she didn't really dare confess to either Sunset or Pyrrha, half hoped that they would stumble across another robbery in progress and get the chance to catch Torchwick for good this time. She didn't understand why Sunset wasn't keen; didn't she want to be a hero?

A scroll flashed in Ruby's face as someone took a picture of Pyrrha. Ruby blinked rapidly as green blobs floated in front of her eyes.

"Is this bothering you?" Pyrrha asked softly. "We could find a more… obscure route, if you'd like."

Ruby snorted. "Pfft. No, it's fine, really."

"Oh," Pyrrha said. "I see."

Ruby had the distinct impression that she had just said the wrong thing. "Uh… unless you want to take a different route?"

Pyrrha didn't break her stride, but Ruby got the sense that she was hesitating nonetheless. "I… I would certainly like to, but I'm afraid I don't know this city well enough to be sure of finding our way through the less travelled streets."

"Me neither," Ruby admitted. "I haven't actually been to Vale very often."

"Ah, I see," Pyrrha said. "May I ask you what it's like, living… not outside the kingdoms, but on the fringes of their reach and authority?"

Ruby shrugged. "There are grimm around, if that's what you mean. You have to be a little bit more careful than you do here. But I didn't mind. I always had Yang to watch over me, even when I was little. And… it was nice. Forests, open spaces. You can walk a little way in any direction from our house, and before very long, you'll come to some place where you can forget that there are any other people around, or in the whole world. It's so quiet; it's just you and the wildlife. There are rabbits living not far from home, and Zwei – that's our dog - chases them every chance he gets. It was really nice. Really, really nice. Here in Vale… I don't think there's anywhere quite the same."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "I get the impression that there are no truly wild places in Vale proper. There are some open spaces - parks, that sort of thing - but they're all carefully cultivated, curated; any wildness that you might see there is just an illusion skilfully created by land management."

"Was it not like that where you grew up?"

"I grew up in the heart of Mistral," Pyrrha said. "It is… not a city exactly like this one. Aesthetically… a little more pleasing. The whole city is built around the highest peak in a series of mountains, a shining city on a hill set amidst peaks and troughs of verdant green. The mountains around are covered with grass, and in the valleys, there are farms and grazing fields stretching out in all directions, but in Mistral itself… all the buildings are white; they cover the slopes so that when you approach from a distance, it appears that they are rising like marble out of the mountain itself. I remember, when I was returning home from one of my tournaments, approaching Mistral by airship, everything coming into view more clearly the closer I got to home: the commercial and residential districts nestling at the foot of the mountain, and then the houses becoming larger and larger the higher up you climb, mansions belonging to old and wealthy families, until you come to the very peak, the pinnacle of the mountain and the great palace that sits atop it. It's used by the Council now, of course, but still a sight to behold, like a second peak erected atop the first, built astride a waterfall that flows down the mountain through the heart of the city. In a lot of ways, it is the heart of the city, and its life blood."

"It sounds beautiful."

"It is," Pyrrha agreed. "The white of man's creation and the green of nature blended together in perfect harmony. When the dawn light strikes…" She stopped, and a smile flitted across her face. "You should come and see it one day. I mean, if you'd like." Her eyes brightened. "In fact, you should all come, for Spring Break. I'll talk to my mother; I'm sure she won't object. We'll take an airship and fly through the clouds, and when they part before us, you'll see the whole of Mistral spread out before you, rising up to touch the sky. The view from a train is less impressive, but perhaps a little more imposing."

Ruby smiled. "I'd like that," she said, and not only because it made Pyrrha look so happy to hear it, but because she had made her home sound so beautiful that Ruby genuinely hoped to see it one day, and with her friend too. "You sound as if you really like it there."

"Mistral is my home," Pyrrha said. "I will fight for all of humanity, but Mistral will always have a claim upon my heart."

"Why did you leave?" Ruby asked. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, but… you seem to like it there so much that I wondered why you didn't go to Haven."

Pyrrha glanced down at the pavement over which they walked. "Mistral is a beautiful place, but I thought that a change of scenery might do me a little good." She fell silent, and they walked on in that way for a little while, with the sounds of the street ebbing and flowing around them as their shoes tapped upon the concrete slabs. Pyrrha gestured to a nearby bench, overlooking a small park where a few children were running under the supervision of their parents. "Would you mind if we sat down for a moment?"

"Uh, no, not at all," Ruby said.

The two of them sat down, and for a moment, neither of them said anything as the sounds of children playing and dogs barking reached their ears. A drone flew overhead, passing through the sky above them with a buzzing sound.

It was not the first drone that Ruby had noticed since they got into Vale today. "Have you noticed there seem to be a lot of drones this afternoon?"

"Yes, I had," Pyrrha said. "Perhaps the police are using them to keep an eye out for any more dust shop robberies."

"Perhaps," Ruby murmured and hoped that it was enough to get the job done. "There's going to start to be real trouble if someone doesn't put a stop to all this soon."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "You have the heart of a hero, but in this… we are only children, and if we are the only ones able to act in this matter, then… woe unto Vale that untried youths should be its hope. There must be others better able to address this crisis than ourselves."

"I hope so," Ruby replied. "But why should that mean that we shouldn't do anything?"

"Because we don't yet know what we ought to do," Pyrrha answered. "As capable as you are… there is a reason we must attend the Academy before we can become huntresses."

"I guess," Ruby muttered, not entirely convinced by this. She was distracted by noticing an ice cream cart not far away.

"Would you like some ice cream?"

"Hmm?" Pyrrha murmured.

"Ice cream," Ruby repeated, pointing at the cart.

"Um," Pyrrha hesitated, before her face brightened a little. "Alright. Let me just get out my-"

"Oh, no, I wasn't trying to-"

"I really don't mind-"

"No, it's fine, I can-"

"It will be my treat."

"You don't have to-"

It took a few minutes of this back and forth before they realised how stupid it was to sit there arguing over who would pay for a couple of ice cream cones, and both of them burst out laughing at the silliness of it.

"Shall we each just pay for ourselves?" Pyrrha suggested.

"That's probably the only way we'll agree on something," Ruby agreed.

Pyrrha got a simple two scoops of vanilla, while Ruby got one scoop each of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla with a chocolate flake, strawberry sauce and a covering of multi-coloured sprinkles. Fortunately, nobody had taken their bench while they were away, and they were both able to return to it with their ice creams. Ruby began to devour hers greedily - and a little messily - while Pyrrha licked delicately at hers.

"So," Ruby said as she ate. "What did you want to talk about?"

Pyrrha produced a tissue from out of her sleeve and dabbed delicately at her ice cream stained lips. "I…" she looked troubled, her brow furrowed and her mouth set in a sort of frown. "I envy you, Ruby. I know that isn't very good of me, but… it's the truth. I envy that you have… such an open heart. It draws people towards you. It makes it easy for them to like you. I suppose I envy your ability to make friends so easily."

"I don't really make friends as easily as that," Ruby said as she felt her cheeks burn up a little.

"You do it far more easily than I do," Pyrrha replied. "And that is what I wanted to talk to you about. I understand that you want to learn more about your mother and your past - I would never discourage you from that - but this… I want to be sure that you understand what it might mean to go further than that. To go from understanding what it meant for your mother to be a silver-eyed warrior, if that is indeed the term, to seeking to become one yourself."

Ruby blinked. "You… you don't think I should do it? I mean, we still don't know what 'it' is or whether I could do… whatever 'it' is. But, if I could do it, whatever it is, then you don't think that I should?"

"I think that it isn't my choice to make," Pyrrha clarified. "Nor is it Sunset's. We cannot choose your destiny on your behalf, Ruby. And we shouldn't try. But you should see where the path leads before you set your feet upon it."

"I don't understand," Ruby said quietly. "Mom's power, the power of the silver eyes, she used it to destroy a whole bunch of grimm just by… just by looking at them, maybe. The hero in that storybook defeated a dragon that no one else could stand up to and saved an entire kingdom." She paused, and again, the question niggled at the back of her mind that if the power of the silver eyes was all that, if her mother had been all that, then why hadn't she come home? Had the power of the silver eyes grown in the telling, or had Mom in all her strength come up against some power mightier still? "If I can do that, if I can have that power then… don't I have to take it?" Mom had seen it so, judging by her early diary entries; if she had wanted a brief interlude of normalcy at Beacon, then she had nevertheless been prepared to devote the rest of her life to the struggle against the grimm.

Pyrrha looked away and gazed out across the park where the carefree children played. "Look at them," she murmured, as the wind rustled her long ponytail. "Do you think they realise that they are living in a fortress of humanity? A fortress under siege by incomprehensible evil?"

"Probably not," Ruby ventured. "And to be honest, I don't think that they should know that." She had found that out when her mother didn't come home and her Dad had sunk into a mire of grief. She wished she hadn't had to find out so early.

"No, you're quite right," Pyrrha said. "And many of them, most of them by far, will probably grow up never quite realising that. And yet, some of them may have the potential to become great huntsmen and huntresses, potential that they will never realise. They could risk their lives to defend humanity, but they never will, and there is no shame in that. To take upon one's own shoulders the burden of defending the world is a great weight… but it is a weight that must be freely chosen; it can never be imposed by others. Or at least, I don't think that it should."

"Sunset isn't imposing anything on me, if that's what you think."

"I know," Pyrrha said. "But I don't believe that Sunset understands… she sees a weapon, perhaps a very powerful one - and I admit that we have need of powerful weapons - but I want you to understand what it might cost you to follow this path to the end. You read your mother's diary entry; you know what she was afraid of once she revealed her power to others."

Ruby nodded. "She was afraid that they wouldn't see her as a person anymore."

"When you allow yourself to be placed upon a pedestal," Pyrrha said, "you lose all connection to the people who put you there in the first place. You may not want it, you might hate it, and you probably will, but… it will happen. Is that what you want, Ruby? Is that really the destiny you wish for yourself?"

Ruby tried to imagine it and struggled because her mind itself revolted against the very notion. She tried to imagine losing connection with Jaune, tried to imagine Yang holding her in such a state of awe that she ceased to see her as a little sister any more. She tried to imagine not being able to joke around with her friends, share hopes and fears, share everything that mattered. She tried to imagine it, and as hard as she might try, she couldn't. Even if she imagined everyone else in her life fading away into a fog of disconnectedness or falling down at her feet worshipping her silver eyes, her imagination always supplied Yang right beside her, ready to give her a noogie and embarrass her in front of everybody else while she wore that big-sister grin of hers.

She wouldn't ever have it any other way.

"No," she said. "That's not what I want. But I don't see that it has to be either."

"You may not be given a choice," Pyrrha said softly.

"We always have a choice," Ruby replied, "and it's never too late to make new choices. I can choose to find out about my mom, I can choose to find out whether I have the same power that she had, and I can choose to do all that and still have all my friends right beside me when I do it: Yang, Sunset, Jaune… and you, too. Pyrrha. You might think that you don't make friends very easily, but you have three already. And I don't plan on leaving you behind, not for a pair of silver eyes or for any destiny or… or for anything."

Pyrrha smiled fondly. "That's very kind of you to say, Ruby. But… I'm afraid… when you have a gift, I speak from experience when I say that the study of it consumes you all too easily until it's all that you have. You live it, you breathe it, and you go to bed and wake up again thinking about it. Until it's all that you are, and you have nothing else."

She bowed her head and sighed.

Ruby rested her hands on her knees, and leaned forwards so that she could look up into Pyrrha's face. "Pyrrha, when was the last time that you just had fun?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "If I ever did, I think it must have been when I was very small."

Ruby's expression fell for a moment as she tried to contemplate what that must have been like before a wide smile like a particularly precocious puppy spread across her face. She leapt up from the bench and held out her hand. "Pyrrha, come with me."

Pyrrha looked up. "Where?"

"Not to some bookshop," Ruby declared. "We can do that some other time. Right now, I'm going to teach you how to cut loose. Everyone should learn how to have fun!"

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," Ruby urged. "Don't you trust me?"

Pyrrha nodded, and she smiled slightly as she placed one hand into Ruby's outstretched palm.

Ruby's fingers closed around Pyrrha's hand as she pulled her up off the bench and began to drag her down the street. She wasn't quite using her semblance, but she was running pretty fast and yanking Pyrrha along behind her as she pounded down the pavement in search of something specific. She passed by shops that didn't interest her and shops that would have interested her if she hadn't been on a mission right now. She was looking for… she was looking for…

"Ruby," Pyrrha said, as she picked up her own pace to partially catch up with Ruby before her arm was pulled out of its socket. "Where are we going?"

"I'll know it when I see it," Ruby replied as she pulled Pyrrha to the right. There had to be something around here somewhere. "I'm about to show you a whole new world."

Ruby might not have been using her semblance, but she was possibly blurring the edges of it just a little bit. She was certainly running fast, even allowing for dragging Pyrrha - who was running herself in order to keep up - behind her. She was running so fast, in fact, that when a girl with orange hair ambled into the street right in front of her, there was no way that she could slow down in time.

"Look out!" Ruby yelled.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Very minor changes here, with the biggest being that the two crash into Penny at the end of this chapter rather than the beginning of the next one.

New Friends, Old Rivals (Rewritten)

New Friends, Old Rivals

Sunset stood in Tukson's Book Trade with her arms folded across her chest, staring somewhat blankly at the section on Myths and Legends. So far, a study of the titles wasn't getting her very far.

"What do people have against happy endings?" Jaune asked, as he shut a book and placed it back on the shelf in the nearby fairytales section.

Sunset looked over and then actually wandered over to him. "Have you found something?"

"I've found reason to lose my faith in humanity," Jaune muttered. "Most of these books are just retellings of the old stories with extra sex and violence."

"Not useful to us," Sunset agreed, "but I'm sure that someone enjoys them."

"Someone must, there are so many," Jaune agreed. "But… okay, if you want to retell the story so that the dragon doesn't talk because it's a grimm, then fine. That even makes sense. But to have the younger son get eaten as well? What's the point in that? That last book? In its retelling of the story of the four seasons, the old man… you don't want to know what the old man does to the girls, and then at the end of the story, they get murdered by the people they try to help anyway! What kind of sick person comes up with stuff like that?"

"Let's leave the issue of your diminishing respect for your fellow men to one side for a second, shall we?" Sunset urged. "We'll meet up with Ruby and Pyrrha later, and they'll have you believing in the inherent goodness of humankind again in no time."

Jaune chuckled. "You know, you're joking… but you're also absolutely right."

"I am always absolutely right," Sunset informed him. "Except when I am not. I take it, then, that you haven't found anything useful."

"In fairness, it's kind of hard to tell what will be useful before you read it," Jaune explained.

"True," Sunset allowed. She turned away from Jaune and walked out of the little alcove to approach the counter. "Mister Tukson," she said, "I don't suppose you could recommend a good introduction to myths and legends?"

Mister Tukson leaned on the counter. "An introduction?"

"Something that gives a brief summary of all the notable stories, people, that sort of thing," Sunset explained. "Preferably something with a comprehensive glossary and a healthy reference section to direct further reading."

Tukson smiled. "This for your Legends of Remnant class?"

"Actually-" Jaune began.

"Exactly, it's for Legends of Remnant," Sunset agreed. "I didn't pay much attention to things like that when I was a child, and I'm paying for it now. I'd like something that can point me in the direction of where to start."

"Myths of the Four Kingdoms is a good place to start," Tukson said. "You should be able to find it on the shelf, along with a companion volume, Fairytales of the Four Kingdoms."

Sure enough, Sunset found them both on the shelf, both under Myths and Legends. She picked up Myths, a chunky hardback with a picture of a nearly naked man fighting a King Taijitsu on the cover, and flicked through it. Some of the entries were brief, but it had a glossary, and the entries, although sometimes very sparsely written, had copious footnotes and suggestions for further reading. Clearly, some consideration had been given to those hoping to use this as an academic starting point.

Sunset shut the book and plucked the companion volume off the shelf, stacking it on top of Myths in her hands. She returned to Tukson at the counter. "How about beyond the Four Kingdoms?" she asked, as she put the two books down.

Tukson looked thoughtful. "Let me take a look in the back," he said, before disappearing into the back room.

Jaune joined Sunset at the counter. "Why did you tell him that it was for class?"

"Should I have told him that we think our friend might have magic eyes?" Sunset demanded. "That isn't stuff you tell strangers. We don't know if we can trust him."

"He seems friendly enough," Jaune pointed out.

"I need him to be a lot more than friendly before I start telling him about silver eyes," Sunset growled.

The front door opened behind them as Blake Belladonna walked into the shop. "Oh, hello," she greeted them.

Sunset smirked as she turned around. "We have to stop meeting like this."

Blake didn't look very amused. "Is Tukson in the back?"

"He's just looking for something for us," Jaune explained.

Blake rolled her eyes. "He's going to get robbed one of these days."

"Luckily for him, the robbers seem more interested in dust shops than bookstores," Sunset replied.

"Hmm," Blake acknowledged. "I hope they identify who's responsible for that soon."

"And catch them," Jaune added.

"Of course," Blake murmured. "And catch them."

Tukson returned from out of the back room. "Here you go, Myths from Beyond the Kingdoms. It's not as comprehensive as the others for obvious reasons, but it's as good as the sources allow. Hey, Blake!"

"Hey, Tukson," Blake replied. "Has my order come in, yet?"

"I've got it in the back; just let me settle up here, and I'll fetch it for you."

"Please," Blake said. "I wouldn't want to keep Sunset and Jaune waiting."

Students were given a weekly stipend for school supplies and other essentials; it wasn't much – certainly not enough for Sunset to buy dust or anything like that – but it was enough to cover the cost of those three books. Tukson put them in a large paper bag with a string handle for her before Sunset and Jaune left the store.

"Let's see if Pyrrha and Ruby have had any luck," Sunset said, getting out her scroll with her free hand. "Maybe they want to grab a coffee or something."

"Sounds good to me," Jaune agreed.

As they walked away from the bookshop, Sunset opened up her scroll and called Pyrrha. By the look of what Sunset could see in the background once Pyrrha answered, they were outside and moving somewhere.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, sounding a little nervous about something. "Hello again."

"Hey," Sunset said. "How are you two getting on?"

"Wait, that isn't Sunset Shimmer, is it?" asked another voice, momentarily unfamiliar; unfortunately, when that all-too-brief moment wore off, Sunset felt with a slight chilling feeling stealing over her that this voice was not actually unfamiliar to her at all. In fact, it was all too familiar in all the wrong ways.

No. No way can she be here. I got away, I was done with her, she cannot have followed me all the way to Vale; it isn't fair! Sunset's voice trembled with a touch of dread. "Is that… Rainbow Dash?"

Pyrrha opened her mouth a little, but before she could say anything else, the scroll was wrenched out of her hands to focus upon the all-too familiar face of Rainbow Dash. That ridiculous rainbow hair in its daredevil cut, those magenta eyes gleaming with mischief, that face, that cocky grin; Sunset would recognise them anywhere. Much as she might wish she didn't.

"Sunset Shimmer," Rainbow said sternly.

Sunset's jaw tightened. "Rainbow Dash." She struggled to keep a lid on the mounting anxiety that she felt rising within her breast because this could not be happening. This absolutely could not be happening! She had gotten away! She was free of Canterlot and Rainbow Dash and all of the rest of them and everything else besides! It was bad enough that Flash had followed her to Beacon, but at least he was keeping his mouth shut. What might Rainbow Dash say to Ruby and Pyrrha? I had a fresh start. She had not been known here at Beacon, but notwithstanding her desire for fame, that anonymity had served her well: her unjust reputation had not gone before her to poison the well in advance of her coming. If Rainbow Dash talked, if she lied to Pyrrha and Ruby, then it might all be lost. "What are you doing here?"

Rainbow looked a little shifty. "Hanging out."

"'Hanging out,'" Sunset repeated acidly. "With my teammates?"

"Hey, I didn't know you were the one putting the S in Sapphire until you called," Rainbow replied. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Too small by a long way if you're here," Sunset snapped. "Put Pyrrha back on." And stay away from my team! she wanted to add and only did not for fear that the prohibition would spur Rainbow to do the opposite just to spite her. "Pyrrha, where are you?"

"Uh, I'm not entirely sure. Let me see... Thirty-Second Avenue."

"Stay there and don't move; I'm coming to you," Sunset said.

"Sorry, we can't stop," Ruby cried. "We have to find Penny!"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "And just who the hell is Penny?"

"There she is!" Ruby yelled from somewhere out of view of the scroll. "Penny, wait!"

"Gotta go," Rainbow Dash said. "Penny, stop right-"

"No, don't you dare hang up on-" Sunset yelled, stopping midway because, of course, Dash had hung up on her.

Sunset didn't know what was going on. She didn't know who Penny was or why Ruby and Pyrrha were looking for her. The only thing she knew was that there was no way she was leaving them alone with Rainbow Dash to turn them against her.

Sunset started to run. "Come on, Jaune, pick up the pace!"

"Why?" Jaune asked as he started to chase after her.

"We have to save the girls from a wicked faunus," Sunset declared. "And there's not a moment to lose."

"Look out!" Ruby yelled.

The other girl looked around in surprise, her mouth forming a startled O just as Ruby crashed into her. The two of them went sprawling to the pavement, though Ruby's aura prevented her from feeling more than a slight bump. Pyrrha leapt gracefully over the two fallen girls and hesitated in apparent confusion for half a moment before holding out a hand to help Ruby to her feet.

"Thanks," Ruby said, as she accepted Pyrrha's helping hand up. "Sorry about that, uh..."

She trailed off as she looked down at the victim of her reckless speed. Dressed in an old-fashioned blouse but in addition to modern overalls with neon green strips, the girl - who looked closer to Ruby's age than Pyrrha's - lay casually upon the pavement as though it were the most natural thing in the world to just lie on your back in the street. Even weirder, she was smiling, beaming even, without a hint of... well, without a hint of any of the things that you'd expect someone to feel after they'd just been knocked to the ground.

"Uh," Ruby murmured. She glanced at Pyrrha for help, but Pyrrha looked just as baffled by this as Ruby felt. "Sorry I ran into you."

The girl's smile remained fixed in place. "No problem. Judging by your cry of warning, it was an accident. Your momentum was too great to be arrested rapidly."

"Yeah," Ruby said. "I, uh, was going pretty fast." She laughed nervously. "So... do you... need a hand getting up?"

"No," the girl said, and she proved it by leaping to her feet in a single fluid motion. "But thank you for asking."

"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked solicitously.

"One hundred percent capacity!" the girl declared proudly.

"Ah," Pyrrha said, in a neutral tone. "I see."

A silence descended between them, an uncomfortable silence that Ruby filled before it could get any worse. "So, I'm Ruby."

"And my name is-" Pyrrha began.

"You're Pyrrha Nikos!" the other girl gasped.

Pyrrha immediately looked rather dispirited. Her head dipped noticeably. "Yes, uh, I am."

"I've studied your fights extensively!" the other girl declared. "It will be an honour to meet you in battle." She pumped her fist. "I promise, I won't hold back!"

"Really?" some of Pyrrha's disappointment at being recognised seemed to vanish instantly. There was a glint of anticipation in her eyes as she said, "I never hold back against an opponent in battle, uh," she paused, waiting for the other girl to give her name.

The other girl gasped again. "Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? My name is Penny Polendina, and it's a pleasure to meet both of you!" Penny chirped. "Are you a Beacon Academy student, Ruby?"

"Sure am," Ruby declared proudly. "Me and Pyrrha are teammates."

"Wonderful!" Penny cried. "So you will be competing in the tournament together?"

"If we're selected," Pyrrha said. "Which is probable, but you know what they say about counting chickens."

Penny blinked, cocking her head to one side. "No," she said. "What do chickens have to do with the combat tournament?"

"Well, um…" Pyrrha trailed off. "Nothing, I suppose."

"I am also here to compete in the tournament," Penny said. "Perhaps we will face each other in the colosseum!"

"Are you a student from one of the other schools?" Ruby asked. Every two years, the Vytal Festival was held to commemorate the end of the Great War and the beginning of the era of peace in which the whole world had basked for the past eighty years. The duties of hosting the prestigious event, which included parades, dances, and feasts and culminated in a combat tournament fought between representatives of the four huntsman academies, rotated between the four kingdoms, and this year, it was Vale which would have the honour. This meant that, for the second semester of the year, students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade would descend on Beacon as part of the celebration of unity and cultural understanding.

"Yes," Penny said. "I am from Atlas Academy!"

"Really?" Ruby hadn't thought that the Atlas students wouldn't arrive until after Spring Break. "That's cool. Is the rest of your team around here somewhere?"

"No," Penny said, and for once her voice lost a little of its enthusiasm. "They let me go off on my own." She hiccupped.

"You've been here in Vale before, then?" Pyrrha asked.

"No. This is my first time away from home. It's so exciting!"

"And your teammates just let you wander off by yourself?" Ruby asked. "Seems kind of mean."

"It is sometimes said that Atlas students lack a spirit of camaraderie," Pyrrha said softly. "Seeing one another only as teammates, not friends. It appears there may be some truth to it."

That didn't make it any better for poor Penny, all alone in a strange new place. Ruby frowned. Penny's team didn't sound like much of a team to her, and neither did any other Atlas team if this was how they all behaved. The first time in a new city should be a time for team bonding, hitting the streets together, trying the food, seeing what was what. Not ditching someone to do... whatever the rest of them were up to right now.

Ruby asked, "Do you know where you're going?"

Penny shook her head. "I am taking in the sights."

"Well… you're welcome to come along with us." Belatedly, she realised that Pyrrha might want a say in that decision, but the other girl didn't seem bothered by the impromptu invitation.

Penny's eyes widened. "Really? I can come with you... like friends?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Just like friends."

It shouldn't have been possible for Penny's smile to get any wider, but somehow, it did. "Sensational! Where are we going, new friends?"

"I was just about to take Pyrrha to-"

A drone flew overhead, passing over Ruby, Pyrrha, and Penny before coming to a dead stop and rotating in place. It was a square drone, black and squat and held in the air by four miniature VTOL engines, which were presently pointed towards the ground as the drone turned to face Penny. Ruby could see that it had a camera mounted in it.

Penny squeaked in alarm and immediately she started to run, darting underneath the drone and fleeing away down the street.

"Penny!" Ruby cried. "What are you-?"

The drone turned again, ignoring Ruby and Pyrrha as it began to follow Penny.

Ruby produced Crescent Rose, acting on instinct. Penny was afraid of the drone, Penny was running from it, and Penny seemed like a good person.

Which meant that the drone pursuing her was probably not operated by a good person.

Crescent Rose unfolded in all its glory with a series of mechanical clanks and hydraulic hisses. Ruby took aim and fired a single shot, striking the drone dead on and blowing it to literal smithereens which fell down to pavement with a clatter.

But Penny had already disappeared out of sight.

"We should go after her," Ruby said.

"I agree; she might be in trouble," Pyrrha replied. She reached for her scroll. "I'll call Sunset and-"

"Hey!" an angry female voice yelled as a rainbow blur barrelled around the corner and headed straight for them.

"Rainbow Dash!" Twilight Sparkle's voice was high and anxious as it was conveyed into Rainbow Dash's ear via the earpiece she was wearing. "I just lost visual."

"What happened?" Rainbow demanded.

"Someone shot my drone out of the sky."

"You mean you don't know who?"

"I was focussed on Penny," Twilight explained. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's fine, Twilight," Rainbow said. "Seventy-First Avenue?"

"Yes," Twilight replied.

"I'm almost there," Rainbow informed her. "Get the rest of the drones to converge on that area; she can't have gone far."

"What about the fact that someone just shot at one?"

Rainbow scowled. "I'll take care of it."

Twilight was silent for a moment. "Be careful."

Rainbow didn't reply; rather, she put on a burst of speed, leaving a rainbow trail behind her as she zipped through the crowd, darting nimbly around the slow-motion people moving all around her. It was as though the rest of the world was trapped in treacle and she was the only person who could move normally as she ran down the street and rounded the corner into the much emptier alleyway where Penny had last been seen.

Team RSPT, pronounced rosepetal, was not like other teams. It wasn't made up of four aspiring huntsmen or huntresses thrown together by fate to train in monster slaying. General Ironwood himself had put it together, deliberately and with thought, and each member had a purpose, a reason for being there.

The whole team was built around Penny. It was her team; she might not lead it, but she was the point of it, the star of the show, proof of a concept that would change the world. If she could actually focus and do as she was told and not get on unauthorised commercial flights to other kingdoms just because she felt like it, that is.

The rest of the team was there for Penny's sake: to support her, to watch over her, to make sure that she could and did achieve her potential, her destiny. Twilight Sparkle was there for Penny's tech support; she might not be a good huntress - or any kind of huntress at all, to be honest - but she was one of only two people besides Penny's father who could understand some of this unique equipment, let alone maintain it in the field.

Ciel Soleil was there to try and keep Penny in line, on mission, and reasonably focussed. She didn't always succeed – witness the fact that they had had to come to Vale to catch up with her - but not for lack of trying. She was also the team sniper for when they actually started to see combat.

And Rainbow Dash was there to keep all the rest alive. That was why her name came first; that was why she was the team leader: because if all else failed, if Penny didn't live up to her hype, if something went wrong, then Rainbow Dash would get them out. Whatever it took.

Of course, being team leader - and the muscle - also meant that now, Penny having escaped, it was Rainbow Dash who was out pounding the streets of Vale looking for her while Twilight searched the skies with drones from the relative safety of the airship and Ciel made that safety a little less relative by standing guard over her.

Rainbow Dash was not in the best of moods as she tracked the errant girl with help from Twilight's flock of aerial drones. She was an easygoing sort of girl, but she had her limits, and being forced to fly all the way to Vale to recover her truant teammate was pushing at them just a little bit. They weren't supposed to get here until Summer Semester when the rest of the Atlesian students arrived in Vale. Penny was supposed to be undergoing her socialising trials in Atlas. Rainbow and Twilight had volunteered their friends as the primary test subjects because their friends were the nicest bunch of people to ever live and thus perfect for giving Penny an easy lift into social interactions and because both Rainbow and Twilight trusted their friends with their lives.

Penny, however, had had other ideas for some reason, and she'd managed to book herself on a Valish skyliner headed for home. Since Ciel had explained that having said Valish skyliner overhauled by an Atlesian man-of-war, boarded by marines, and Penny dragged off the ship would be an act of piracy, there wasn't much to be done except for the rest of Team RSPT to follow her to Vale and bring her back quietly.

Not that Rainbow Dash was in quite the mood for quiet as she rounded the corner with a shout to confront the two people who had- wait, was that Pyrrha Nikos?

Rainbow skidded to a halt just a few feet away from Pyrrha and her companion with the big gunscythe that she had already begun to point in Rainbow's direction. Pyrrha herself had grabbed her spear from across her back and was brandishing it at Rainbow too. Rainbow herself was fully geared up: her wingpack, Wings of Harmony, was strapped on, her SMGs – Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome – were at her hips, and her shotgun Unfailing Loyalty was slung across her back on top of her wings. But Rainbow didn't reach for any of her weapons, because none of them were really quiet, and she wasn't here to start fights, and – admitting that they'd only met once – she didn't think that Pyrrha Nikos was the kind of person to get involved in international espionage.

Plus, as much as it hurt so much to admit it that the words would never pass her lips aloud, she probably wouldn't actually win a fight against the Invincible Girl.

"Pyrrha Nikos, right?" Rainbow said, holding up her hands. "Do you remember me?"

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "You… you were at the charity function for the Asclepius Institute. No! You were at the hospital, visiting that adorable girl."

"I was at both, but yeah, we met at the hospital," Rainbow said. The Asclepius Institute was a private hospital that developed prosthetics for children from all over Remnant and gave them out for free and took care of all the physical therapy too. Rainbow's little sister – admittedly not biologically or legally, but in every other way that mattered – Scootaloo was one of their patients, and Pyrrha had come over to Atlas for a private fight with Shining Armour, the winner of the Atlesian regional tournament, with all ticket revenue going to raise money for the institute. And of course, she'd been given a tour beforehand with the press there, and that's where Rainbow had met her first, and the second time at the after party following the fight. "You told Scootaloo she could be whatever she wanted to be if she was willing to work at it."

"I said a few words," Pyrrha said.

"Good words, words that she doesn't hear often enough," Rainbow insisted. "It meant a lot for her to hear them from you."

"I… I'm glad," Pyrrha murmured. "It's… forgive me, but I can't recall…"

"Rainbow Dash," Rainbow supplied without malice. If she was a big shot celebrity, then she'd probably forget the names of people she only met once or twice as well. "Leader of Team Rosepetal of Atlas."

"This is my friend and teammate Ruby Rose," Pyrrha said. "We're both of Team Sapphire of Beacon."

"Okay," Rainbow said. "Now, Pyrrha, you seemed like a pretty cool person when we met last, so do you mind telling me what you're doing shooting my drone out of the sky?"

“Your drone!” Ruby exclaimed. “We were protecting Penny! Why are you chasing after her?”

“She did seem rather alarmed,” Pyrrha added.

Rainbow sighed. “Penny… Penny is… playing truant,” she said. “We weren’t supposed to come to Vale this early, but she wanted to, and so, she snuck off on her own, and as her team leader it is my responsibility to bring her back home.”

Ruby frowned. “That’s not the way she said it.”

This ought to be good. Rainbow folded her arms. “And what did Penny say?”

“She told us that her team weren’t interested in hanging around with her, so you sent her to explore Vale by herself,” Ruby replied.

"Penny told you that? Did she hiccup when she said it?" Rainbow asked.

The two of them looked at one another. "Yes."

"She does that when she lies; it’s… like a nervous tic," Rainbow explained. "Listen, I really do need to find her: she's all alone in a brand new place, and she has no clue what she's doing. She might think she does, but she doesn’t, and there are a lot of people who are worried sick about her. But, if you don't trust me, then you're welcome to come with: we'll all go find Penny together, and when we do, she'll admit that I don't mean her any harm." Rainbow hoped she would, anyway; if she decided to keep on telling lies, then this could get awkward fast.

"Penny... does seem a little naive," Pyrrha said softly. She glanced at Ruby. "And your brother is an Atlesian officer, if I recall-”

“Actually, that was my friend Twilight’s brother, although I did live with them for a while,” Rainbow corrected her.

“Even so, I should like to believe that you are a woman of your word,” Pyrrha said. “So long as we accompany you, I see no reason to obstruct you."

Ruby's scythe folded into a more compact, stubby, carbine-like weapon. "Okay. But we'll be watching."

Rainbow snorted. “It’s a pity that Penny won’t get how lucky she is; in this whole city, she runs into two people who actually care what happens to a complete stranger.”

“Do you find it so odd?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m not saying it's impossible,” Rainbow replied. “Some of my best friends would care about a complete stranger if they ran into them like that. I’m just saying… not everybody would, and Penny could have been a lot less lucky in whom she ran into.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “It wasn’t exactly Penny who did the running.”

Rainbow chuckled and tapped her ear piece. “Twilight, do you see anything?”

“Currently tracking her down Fortieth,” Twilight replied. “What about the person who shot my drone?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Rainbow replied. “Keep me updated.”

The three of them tracked Penny using Twilight’s info... or rather, Rainbow tracked Penny using Twilight’s info, and Ruby and Pyrrha followed along with her. Penny moved slowly, hampered by her unfamiliarity with Vale, and the trio were closing in on her latest position when Pyrrha's scroll started to buzz.

Pyrrha opened up her scroll and seemed to hesitate a little on seeing whoever it was on the other end. "Sunset. Hello again."

Sunset? No way. It can't be her, can it?

"Hey. Have you two had any luck so far?"

"Wait, that isn't Sunset Shimmer, is it?" Rainbow Dash asked as she plucked the scroll out of Pyrrha's hands and looked down onto the unmistakable face of Sunset Shimmer.

Wow. What did these two do in a previous life to get stuck with Sunset Shimmer... Sapphire; she's their team leader isn't she?

Boy, are these two unlucky.

For that matter, Rainbow Dash was inclined to consider herself a little unlucky herself. She'd hoped to never have to see Sunset Shimmer again after some of the stunts she'd tried to pull in Canterlot. Trying to turn her friends against one another wasn't something that Rainbow Dash forgave or forgot lightly; the fact that it hadn't worked didn't mitigate the fact that she had made the attempt. "Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset's jaw tightened. "Rainbow Dash."

No way that I can tell her about Penny. You didn't let Sunset Shimmer know anything about you if you could avoid it. Anything she did find out, she'd try and use against you. "Hanging out."

"'Hanging out,'" Sunset repeated acidly. "With my teammates?"

What, is somebody worried that I'll tell some stories? How much do your teammates know about you, I wonder. "Hey, I didn't know you were the one putting the S in Sapphire until you called," Rainbow replied. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Too small by a long way if you're here," Sunset said. "Put Pyrrha back on."

Rainbow wordlessly handed Pyrrha her scroll back.

"Pyrrha, where are you?"

"Uh, I'm not entirely sure. Let me see..." Pyrrha looked around for a street sign. "Thirty-Second Avenue."

"Stay there and don't move; I'm coming to you," Sunset said.

"Sorry, we can't stop," Ruby said. "We have to find Penny!"

"And just who the hell is Penny?" Sunset demanded, just as Ruby caught sight of Penny looking aimless outside the entrance to a big, glassy shopping plaza.

"There she is!" Ruby yelled, loudly enough to draw the attention of Penny herself. "Penny, wait!" Ruby cried as Penny turned to make another exit.

"Gotta go," Rainbow Dash said, reaching across to hang up on Sunset. "Penny, stop right there!"

Penny looked as though she didn't really want to wait for Rainbow Dash and the others to catch up to her, but a quick burst of semblance carried Rainbow and Ruby the remaining distance over to her, while Pyrrha was left to run to catch up.

"Penny, stop! Ruby cried. "You don't need to run away." She put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

Rainbow Dash put her hands on her hips, and her pony ears flattened angrily against the top of her head. "In the first place, will you please tell these two that I am not the bad guy? In fact, why don't you just tell them who I am?"

Penny didn’t look in the least bit ashamed of herself as she said, "You're Rainbow Dash, leader of Team Rosepetal."

"Uh-huh," Rainbow said. "And you're a member of Team Rosepetal, aren't you?"

"Certainly! I'm combat ready!"

"Then why were you running?" Pyrrha asked as she joined them.

Penny hesitated for a moment. She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Because… because Rainbow Dash is here to take me back now, aren’t you?”

“Can you try not to sound as though I’m hauling you away to prison in front of the Beacon students?” Rainbow asked.

“But what if I don’t want to go back?” Penny demanded. “What if I want to stay here, with my new friends Ruby and Pyrrha?” She grabbed the two of them and pulled them into neckholds that were probably supposed to be friendly hugs but which looked as though Penny was strangling the pair of them.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Penny, let them go.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re turning blue.”

“Ah!” Penny exclaimed, releasing both of them. “I’m so sorry.”

Pyrrha rubbed at her gorget with one hand. “It… that’s quite alright, Penny. There’s no harm done.”

This is why you weren’t ready to come to Vale yet. “Penny, just come with me; let me take you home.”

“I don’t want to go home!” Penny insisted. “I want to stay here! Why do I have to go back to Atlas?”

How am I supposed to explain socialising you in front of people who can’t know what you are? “Because… you know why.”

“Why can’t I do that here?” Penny asked. “All my life, people have made my decisions for me. They’ve decided where I should go and who I should meet. My father, Mister Ironwood, they decided what I would do and who my teammates would be. And now, you and Ciel and Twilight are doing the exact same thing! You even decided who my friends were going to be! I made this choice, for myself. It’s the only choice I’ve made in my life. Aren’t I allowed to make one choice? I want… I want so much more than you’ve got planned.”

“I knew letting Twilight show you that movie was a mistake,” Rainbow muttered.

“Please, Rainbow Dash,” Penny implored. She leaned forward, and seemed to make her eyes bigger as she did so. “Please. I’ve made a great start already.”

Rainbow leaned back a little away from Penny. “It… it’s not that simple, Penny; it…” Her scroll went off. Not only that, but it went off with a singular ring tone that meant that she was getting a call from none other than Pinkie Pie.

“Hold that thought for a second,” Rainbow said, as she took a step back, turned away, and opened her scroll. “Pinkie, now isn’t a great time-”

“Really? Because I think that now is the perfect time to remind you that sometimes, the best thing you can do is put a smile on someone’s face,” Pinkie declared, her big blue eyes staring up at Rainbow Dash from out of the scroll screen.

Rainbow frowned. “You called me just to tell me that?”

“I thought you might need to be reminded,” Pinkie said.

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “What gave you that idea?”

“I just had a feeling,” Pinkie explained.

“Do you have a feeling as to what I ought to do next?”

“You know what you ought to do next, silly,” Pinkie cried. “You just need to have the courage to do it.”

Rainbow stared down at her eccentric friend for just a moment. “Thanks, Pinkie.”

“You’re welcome!” Pinkie cried in a sing-song voice. “Speak to you soon!”

“I sure will,” Rainbow promised as she snapped her scroll shut. She didn’t put it away, though, but kept it in her hand as she turned back to Penny.

“I don’t think that you ought to make Penny go anywhere she doesn’t want to,” Ruby declared. “You don’t have the right.”

“I do, actually,” Rainbow insisted. “But I won’t. I’m going to talk to the General and see if he’ll let you stay in Vale for the rest of this semester.”

Penny’s eyes got even wider, which Rainbow wouldn’t have thought was even possible; Twilight would know for sure, though. “Really? Oh, thank you, Rainbow-”

“But,” Rainbow said quickly, “there are certain conditions. If we do this, then you have to do as I say from now on.”

“I promise.”

“No wandering off, no running away.”

“I won’t.”

“And anything else that General Ironwood says, you have to do that, too,” Rainbow added.

“No problem,” Penny declared.

Rainbow sighed. “Would you two mind keeping Penny company? I need to make a couple of calls.”

Pyrrha slipped her arm into Penny’s crook. “We’d be delighted to, wouldn’t we, Ruby?”

“Sure!” Ruby chirped eagerly. “Hey, Penny! If this is your first time in Vale, then that means you have to try some Valish cookies! They’re the best! Come on, there’s a store right over there.”

“Don’t wander too far,” Rainbow called, as Ruby half-led, half-dragged Penny – and Pyrrha – towards a Loaded With Dough on the edge of the shopping plaza. Rainbow kept half an eye on them as she tapped her earpiece to open up communications. “Twilight, Ciel, are you there?”

“I’m right here,” Twilight said.

“Ciel Soleil reading you loud and clear,” Ciel declared. “Less clear are your immediate intentions.”

“I can see that you’ve found Penny,” Twilight said. “Why aren’t you on your way back? And who are those… is that Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Yes, from the charity fight,” Rainbow said. “And the other one is her teammate, Ruby Rose. Penny lucked out with the first people she met in Vale.”

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured, and Rainbow found that she could imagine Ciel running through the files. “Pyrrha Nikos, seventeen years old, born in Mistral where she lived her entire life to date, aside from periods domiciled in Argus corresponding to the terms of Sanctum Combat School. Enrolled at Beacon Academy at the beginning of this semester and was assigned to Team Sapphire.”

“Twilight, is she reading, or does she have every student’s records memorised?” Rainbow asked.

“She’s not reading anything at all,” Twilight said, sounding awed and afraid in equal measure.

“Ruby Rose,” Ciel continued. “Fifteen-“

“Fifteen?” Rainbow repeated. “That can’t be right, how can a fifteen year old-?”

“Enrolled at Beacon Academy through the personal recommendation of Professor Lyman Ozpin after two years of study at Signal Combat School,” Ciel continued. “Hails from Patch, the location of her birth. Assigned to Team Sapphire.” She paused. “I suppose I can understand your use of the term ‘lucked out’. Pyrrha Nikos appears to be beyond reproach.”

“And Ruby?”

“That remains to be seen,” Ciel replied. “Or not, as you ought to be returning to the airship immediately.”

“Actually,” Rainbow said. “I was thinking that maybe we could stick around in Vale for a while.”

Silence greeted this pronouncement.

“For what purpose?” Ciel asked in a chill voice.

“We can just as easily socialise Penny here as in Vale,” Rainbow said. “She’s already made two friends.

“This location is less easily regulated,” Ciel pointed out.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe the fact that Atlas was so regulated is why Penny ran away in the first place?” Rainbow suggested.

Ciel was silent for a moment. “The thought had occurred to me. It does not change the fact that we have our orders.”

“Which I’m going to talk to the general about changing,” Rainbow said.

“There are too many variables here,” Ciel insisted. “For what reason do you wish to complicate our mission unnecessarily?”

“Because I think it will make Penny happy,” Rainbow said.

Once more, Ciel fell silent. “Nevertheless,” she said after a moment, “I would like it noted in the log that I objected to this.”

“It will be noted,” Rainbow agreed. “What about you, Twilight?”

“She… she looks happy,” Twilight said. “I feel a little like a stalker, spying on her through a drone like this, but… she looks happy. If she’d rather stay here, then… why not? It’s not like Vale is a warzone or anything.”

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “It’s a kingdom. It’s at peace, just like Atlas.” It wasn’t even a bad place to be. It kind of reminded her of Canterlot in some ways, just more crowded. “Okay, I’ll call General Ironwood.”

“Good luck,” Twilight said.

“Thanks, Twi.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Ciel said.

“Uh huh?”

“I disagree with this,” Ciel informed Rainbow, “but your intent is noble, and that, I can respect.”

“Um… thanks for that as well?” Rainbow said. She tapped her earpiece again to shut off comms with the airship before she opened up her scroll again and called General Ironwood himself.

It took a while before he answered. General Ironwood was a busy man, after all, not only Headmaster of Atlas Academy, but Commander in Chief of the Combined Atlesian Forces and holder of two seats on the Atlas Council. Nevertheless, however busy he was, he understood that Rainbow wouldn’t call unless it was related to their mission, and so, eventually, his face appeared in Rainbow’s scroll.

General Ironwood’s look belied his name only in as much as he looked to have been fashioned not of metal or wood but stone, with chiselled cheeks and a firm jawline. He looked strong, as strong as Atlas itself, as strong as the military he commanded. Rainbow stood to attention as his eyes fell upon her through the screen.

“Cadet Leader Rainbow Dash reporting, sir!”

“At ease, Dash,” General Ironwood replied. “Have you found Penny?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work, Dash. I knew I could count on you. Come home immediately.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” Rainbow asked.

General Ironwood paused. “Granted.”

“I’d like to request permission to carry out observation trials here in Vale, sir.”

General Ironwood looked a little puzzled and a little bemused. “Explain.”

“Penny wants to be here, sir,” Rainbow said. “She doesn’t want to go back to Atlas. Plus, she’s already made two… two friends here, Beacon students. I’m worried that if I try to make her come back to Atlas with me, then they’ll give me trouble. It might cause an incident. Plus, even if I do take her back to Atlas, I think she’ll sulk. She might even try and run away again.”

General Ironwood’s expression was inscrutable. “And you think observations can be carried out in Vale?”

“Twilight can make her observations and report her findings from here just as easily as from Atlas, sir,” Rainbow pointed out, “and as I said, Penny will be more motivated to make an effort here.”

“Assuming that she doesn’t demand further concessions from you now that you’ve shown a willingness to cede ground.”

“I know how to put my foot down, sir,” Rainbow insisted. “And to speak freely, General, you were going to send us to Vale next semester anyway.”

“After a period of determining if Penny could interact with others,” General Ironwood reminded Dash. “These Beacon students, do you trust them?”

“I do, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’ve met one of them - Pyrrha Nikos - before, and the other one, Ruby Rose, seems like a good kid. I’ll vouch for them.”

“Did you say Ruby Rose, Dash?”

Rainbow blinked. “Yes, sir. Do you know her?”

“I used to know her father; he’s a good man,” General Ironwood said. “Her uncle… means well, most of the time.” General Ironwood looked at Rainbow Dash more intently. “Do you think they might discover Penny’s secret?”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, sir.”

“You’d better,” General Ironwood said. “You realise that your reputation will be on the line if this goes south.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Why do you want this, Dash?”

“'Want' is a little strong, sir, but I’d rather be a team leader than a prison guard,” Rainbow replied. “That’s not what I came to Atlas for. Penny deserves some time to be a kid.”

“You all do,” General Ironwood said with a sigh. “More than you’re allowed. Very well. Permission granted. I’ll issue the new orders and speak to Ozpin about you moving into Beacon early. Very early.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Dash.”

“I hope so too, sir.”

General Ironwood looked for a moment as though he might smile. “Good luck out there. Ironwood out.”

The scroll went blank. Rainbow shut it and put it away as she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding until she wasn’t.

She attempted to appear insouciant as she wandered over to the cookie store, or rather to nearby it, where Penny was… eating? Rainbow wondered where she was putting those cookies and whether she, Rainbow, really wanted to know the answer.

They all looked at her as she approached. Penny had cookie crumbs round her mouth. “Well?” she asked.

“General Ironwood gave the okay,” Rainbow said.

“YES!” Penny yelled, launching herself at Rainbow Dash in a flying tackle that knocked Rainbow down to the ground with a groan of pain. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash, thank you so much!”

“No problem,” Rainbow groaned. She looked at Ruby Rose as she pried Penny off of her and picked herself up. Now that Ciel mentioned it, Ruby did look younger than seventeen.

“You know, you look a little young to be a Beacon student,” Rainbow observed, only slightly disingenuously. She wanted to find out what Ruby’s deal was; hopefully, it was more than just the fact that important people knew her dad.

“Yeah,” Ruby admitted nervously. “I’m, uh, I’m actually only fifteen. Professor Ozpin… he, uh, he let me in early.”

“Good for you,” Rainbow said. “He must have had a reason for that.”

“Oh, it wasn’t much,” Ruby replied. “I just stopped a few bad guys from robbing a dust shop.”

Rainbow’s eye twitched. 'A few bad guys'? 'Stopped a few bad guys'? I saved a member of the Atlesian Council and thwarted a major White Fang attack when I was fifteen, and nobody suggested that I should get into Atlas two years early!

You know, not that I’m jealous or anything.

I’m just… man, they’re soft here in Vale.

“Okay,” she said. “So, anyway, where are we going now?”

Sunset found them in an arcade not far from Thirty-Second Street.

Her brow was stained with sweat from a mixture of the running and the sense of nervousness that she'd felt tightening in her chest with every step she took, every moment that she spent away and they were with Rainbow Dash and Celestia only knew what she might tell them about Sunset and the things that she'd done. Her mind was filled with horrible visions as Ruby and Pyrrha rejected her for the horrors of her past as they refused to believe that she could change, would change, had changed.

I am not that which I was. But of course, Rainbow Dash wouldn't believe that - and to be somewhat fair, Sunset couldn't blame her too much for that - in fact, she couldn't even believe that Sunset was only as bad as she had been and not worse. Things that hadn't been Sunset's fault had gotten attached to her because she was a... because she had been an ass about whom people had learnt to assume the worst because it was frequently true. If Rainbow told Ruby and Pyrrha about the things that she had done, it would be bad enough, but if she told them about the things that she hadn't done, then... it scarcely bore thinking about.

But it was all that Sunset could think about as she ran through the streets, leaving Jaune trailing behind her as she searched frantically, desperately, for Ruby and Pyrrha.

And once you find them, then what? Are you going to beat Rainbow Dash into unconsciousness to stop her from talking? It was a tempting idea, but one likely to do more harm than good. The truth was that, even once she got there, then there was nothing Sunset could do to stop Rainbow Dash from spilling everything... nothing except witness the crash in person.

Or beg for mercy. That might be her only choice, the hardest choice of all: to humble herself before Rainbow Dash and cry forgiveness for all that she had done and hope the other faunus was generous enough to grant it, to plead to not have everything that she had so slowly and so painfully built up here ripped away from her in an instant.

I mean, it's not like I really did her any harm, or any of them. Yes, I was mean and vain and proud and... maybe a little cruel sometimes, but it's not like I did any lasting damage. They were all still friends when they graduated Canterlot; it's not like I broke up the band. And let's remember who the real victim was in all of the stuff that went down there.

Sunset scowled and shook her head. She couldn't think like that. She couldn't afford to think like that. Throwing herself a pity party wasn't likely to win her any favours from Rainbow Dash.

How I hate that girl. Sunset, who liked to think that she had mellowed lately, was surprised by the vituperative force of the feelings that still flowed through her when she thought about Rainbow, her smug smile, her cocky attitude. The way she acted as though she didn't even realise that she had pony ears, the way a world that never failed to remind Sunset she was a despised faunus seemed to treat the great Rainbow Dash like she was human.

The way that she was always surrounded by smiles and laughter. Sunset hadn't admitted that at the time, not even to herself; perhaps she hadn't even realised it. But now, with a clearer head and consequently clearer eye, she could concede that truth: even when she had most bitterly denied the worth of friends, she had been consumed with envy of those who had them when she did not.

And now, Rainbow Dash would take her friends away unless Sunset abased herself before her.

It was with her thoughts thus awhirl like a tornado that Sunset found them in an arcade not far from Thirty-Second Street. She panted for breath, and in the way of it, she felt the sweat running down her back all the more once she stopped running and started moving more slowly.

She spotted Pyrrha first. Even in this place of dim shadows illuminated more by the flashing screens of the games cabinets than the practically non-existent ambient lighting, Pyrrha's red hair and statuesque figure stood out. As Sunset made her way towards her, she was surprised to see that Pyrrha was playing a button-masher fighting game... with Rainbow Dash.

The Atlesian was not as tall as Pyrrha, being about of a height with Yang, maybe a little taller, but at the same time thinner than Yang was. She was a pony faunus with hair in all the colours of the rainbow which had supplied her name, cut short so that it fell down just below her shoulder. She was dressed in a blue sports jacket over a white T-shirt and a pair of dark blue pants with rainbow-coloured lighting bolts on them, and wearing some kind of bulky backpack with a shotgun slung over it. A pair of crimson goggles sat atop her head, above her magenta eyes. A pair of blue gloves covered her hands.

Ruby wasn't too far away. Sunset could spot her red cloak, playing one of those grimm shooters with the toy guns you pointed at the screen alongside a ginger-haired girl - maybe this Penny that they had been looking for earlier - with a bow in her hair.

Sunset was about to announce herself as she staggered with leaden feet towards them, but it was Jaune who spoke up first with an indignant declaration of, "You guys went to the arcade? Then why didn't you invite me?"

Everyone - everyone being the four people in this arcade who actually mattered - looked at him.

"Jaune!" Ruby cried enthusiastically. "Oh, sorry. It's just that it was kind of an impulse decision, and then we ran into Penny, and everything happened so fast after that that I just didn't think." She stopped for a second, only to gasp. "Oh, right! You don't know: Penny, Rainbow Dash, meet our friends Jaune Arc and Sunset Shimmer. Jaune, Sunset, this is Penny-"

"Hello, new friends!" Penny said, waving enthusiastically.

"And this is Rainbow Dash."

"Yo."

"Yo?" Jaune repeated. "Sunset said... I thought that you were in danger? Sunset said we had to rescue you from a wicked faunus."

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash protested. “I am not a wicked faunus. I am a wicked cool faunus.” She smirked. "That said, I'm still kind of flattered, Sunset. I wouldn't have thought that you'd be so nice to me."

I bet you're just loving this, aren't you? "What can I say?" Sunset replied.

Rainbow Dash stared at Sunset coolly for a moment. "I'm going to get a soda," she said. "Hey, Jaune, why don't you take over here?"

"Uh, okay," Jaune said, taking Rainbow's place beside Pyrrha. "So, Pyrrha, I didn't know you were into this kind of thing."

"I'm not, really. This is my first time... anywhere like this."

"Really? You mean I might actually beat you at something?" Jaune said. "Or... maybe something less selfish. How have you never been to an arcade before?"

"She's had a poor, deprived childhood," Rainbow called as she headed towards the burger bar at the back of the arcade.

"That's why we're putting it right now," Ruby agreed.

Sunset didn't hear the rest of what might have passed between Jaune and Pyrrha, because she followed Rainbow Dash down towards the back of the arcade.

"Two sodas," Rainbow said, leaning on the desk.

"Generous," Sunset said.

Rainbow snorted. "Who says the other one is for you?"

Sunset didn't reply. She just stood there, and stared, and waited.

"Yeah, it's for you. I'm just that nice. Or Rarity has just rubbed off on me that much," Rainbow said. She drummed her fingers on the wooden bar and looked at Sunset out of the side of her eye. "They don't know what you are, do they?"

"‘What I am’?” Sunset repeated. “And what am I?"

"You're the worst."

Sunset shuffled uncomfortably. "That Anon-a-Miss thing genuinely wasn't me. I swear on... I'll swear on anything you like."

"You could swear on anything you liked, and I wouldn't buy it," Rainbow replied. She glanced back up to where the others were engrossed. "What do you think they'd do if they heard some of the stories that I could tell them about you?"

"No," Sunset whispered. "Please, don't. I... I'm not the person that I was back then."

"Why should I believe that either?"

"Because they trust me?" Sunset offered. "Because they put up with me, maybe they even like me a little. If I were that bad, if I were as bad as I was back then, would they do that? Would they be able to do that? I've changed, Rainbow Dash, I promise, I sw- I've changed."

Rainbow cocked her head. "This matters to you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it matters to me!" Sunset hissed. "You're talking about destroying the trust that my team has in me."

"The way that you tried to take away the trust my friends had in each other?" Rainbow demanded. "The way you tried to divide and rule at Canterlot?"

"I was an idiot!" Sunset cried. She would have grabbed Rainbow and shaken her if she hadn't thought it would be counterproductive. "I was stupid, and I didn't realise what it meant to be a faunus in Atlas and how it would all turn out, and I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry for what I did, for what I tried to do... to you and your friends and everyone, I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? What do you want from me?"

"Maybe I want to know why you did it."

"Because I hated you!" Sunset said in a voice that was half-yell, half-whisper. "I hated the way that... I hated the way that when you were around, I couldn't just pretend that it was all about my ears and my tail, because that's what I told myself: 'it's not me, it's Atlas. It's not my fault that they don't see me in all my glory.' But then there was you: you can't do half of what I can, your semblance is just... all you can do is run fast, and you're just a faunus just like me, and yet... everyone thought you were so awesome. You were the star of the school, and you had friends. You had human friends who didn't give a damn about the extra ears." Sunset took a deep breath. "I'm not proud, but there it is. That's why I tried to... because I wanted to bring you down to the same level that I was stuck at, but that's not who I am anymore. Please, Rainbow Dash, I... I'm begging you. Don't take this away from me."

But Rainbow Dash's face was hard as stone, her eyes hostile and unyielding.

And then she started to laugh. "You should see the look on your face. Hah!"

Sunset's eyes widened in confusion. "You... what... huh?"

"I'm not going to tell them anything," Rainbow said.

"You're not?"

"I may not like you, but I'm not like you," Rainbow declared. "I'm not going to try and ruin your life just because I can. Plus, if it really matters that much to you, then maybe you have changed. Or else you'll blow it for yourself like you did at Canterlot."

"Don't remind me," Sunset growled. "So this... this was all about getting a rise out of me?"

"Pretty much."

"You are more evil than I could ever dream of being."

"Oh, come on! Pranks are good fun so long as the target can take it."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Ooh, was that a threat?"

"Or perhaps I'll just share the pictures of that band you and your friends used to be in."

"Okay, first of all, we're still in a band: Rainbooms for life. Second, you can share whatever pictures you like, because we rocked that look."

"You certainly didn't rock the music."

"Now you're just showing that you have bad taste."

By the time they rejoined the others, Rainbow having decided it would be rude not to get everyone a drink, not to mention a tub of chips for sharing - "Don't worry," she said, although Sunset hadn't been. "Atlas is paying for all of this," whatever that meant - Pyrrha was laughing and Jaune was crowing.

"I did it!" he yelled. "I actually beat you! I don't believe it!"

"I don't believe it either," Sunset said. "What happened?"

"It turns out I'm terrible at this game," Pyrrha said, stifling her laughter behind one hand. "But it was such fun, can we go again?"

It turned out that Pyrrha was pretty terrible at button-mashers in general, if only because she couldn't seem to get the hang of the controls at all, no matter how they were spelled out for her. She did much, much better at shooters where she shot the plastic guns with the same unerring aim that she used when firing Miló... until she started to fall off in performance to the extent that Sunset wondered if she was deliberately throwing games so that people would want to keep playing against her. Not that Sunset was bothered by that; it left more space on the high score table for her.

"Do you have any idea," Pyrrha said to Ruby, as she stepped back from Alley Brawler to let Jaune go up against Rainbow Dash, "how refreshing it is to not have your opponent concede defeat to you before the fight has even begun? Thank you, Ruby; this was a wonderful idea."

"I'm glad you're having a good time," Ruby said. "I-"

"YES!" Sunset yelled, as she finally, finally, finally beat Penny at TurboRacer. The strange girl - so strange that Sunset wanted to know what was up with her - had reflexes that were uncannily fast; she'd claimed to have no more set foot in a place like this than Pyrrha, and yet, she picked up every game she turned her hand to with ridiculous ease. But none of that mattered because Sunset had beaten her, and it had only taken ten tries to do it, too! "I won!"

"You know," Rainbow said. "I think you might have actually gotten more competitive than you used to be." She grinned. "I like it. Bet I can beat your high score."

"Oh, it is so on."

By the time Rainbow and Penny left somewhat reluctantly, having gotten a call from someone named Ciel, the members of Team SAPR were about ready to head back to Beacon themselves. But even though they hadn't gotten any research done…

"Ruby," Sunset said. "Great job. Today... it was a good day."

"A very good day," Pyrrha agreed.

"A great day," Jaune said. "We should do it again some time."

"Maybe the other members of Rosepetal could join us?" Pyrrha suggested. "Did anybody get their scroll numbers?"

"I did," Ruby said. "And we could bring Iron, too."

Sunset didn't add anything to the growing discussion. The truth was that she could have lost every game, and it wouldn't really have made any difference. The moment that Rainbow Dash had revealed that she had no intention of badmouthing Sunset to her friends, the moment it turned out that she would be keeping her team after all... that, alone, was enough to make it a good day.

Author's Note

I have been waiting to write this chapter since I first thought of this story. In a lot of ways team RSPT are more deuterotagonists of the story than any of the non-SAPR Beacon teams, as you'll see as we spend more time with them (all of them) later.

Rewrite Notes: It's a little ironic to look at the note above saying that I'd been waiting for this chapter, because it felt the same way coming around to it again for this rewrite. The biggest changes here are that, instead of being in Vale for their tests, Penny has run away to Vale from Atlas, necessitating the rest of the team chasing after her; and that Team RSPT are going to be staying at Beacon from now on, allowing much greater interactions with the other students.

Rosepetals (Rewritten)

Rosepetals

Spike barked.

Twilight looked down from the holographic display in front of her and smiled down at her pet as, with one hand, she scratched him behind the ears. "What's wrong, Spike? Are you hungry?"

Spike made a yelping, slightly moaning sound as he clambered up onto Twilight's lap.

"Oh, I see; you just want some attention," Twilight said fondly, and she kept on rubbing him even as, with her other hand, she continued to pull out bits and pieces from the blow-out hologram.

The Beacon dorm room was a little crowded, not least because all of Twilight’s drones were taking up a lot of space on the floor, but no doubt, they would make do; the room seemed just a little bigger than the room that Rainbow and Applejack’s old team had had at Atlas, and they had seemed to manage well enough.

Twilight Sparkle sat at one of the desks running along the wall, her computer set up to project a hologram of Penny's swords. She was a girl of average height but seemed smaller on account the slight and willowy nature of her frame. Her hair was midnight blue, streaked with purple and pink in a pair of stripes that ran from her bangs to the tip of her long high ponytail. Large square glasses sat on her face before her purple eyes. A pink waistcoat covered a blue sleeveless blouse with puffed shoulders and a high collar, while Spike, her dog, sat on top of her purple skirt, panting happily.

Behind Twilight, Ciel Soleil sat on her bed, reading a large and rather heavy-looking book on the history of the Mantle Navy during the Great War. Ciel was a little taller than Twilight and more muscular in the arms, even though most of said muscle was concealed beneath the fingerless opera-length black gloves she wore over her arms. Her skin was dark and her eyes a rich ocean blue, while her hair was black and cut short, stopping around the nape of her neck, although her bangs were long enough to nearly obscure the golden marking on her forehead. She wore a plain, white, short-sleeved blouse, a blue skirt with a golden hem, and a pair of high white boots that extended up past her knees. Her blue beret was sitting on the bed beside her. Occasionally, Ciel glanced at her watch and uttered a loud tut.

"I'm sure that they'll be back soon," Twilight said nervously.

"Indeed," Ciel said. "It might have been preferable if you had maintained drone surveillance."

"There was no need once Rainbow found her," Twilight said, "and, even leaving aside the fact that our permission to fly drones was for as little time possible to complete our mission, it would have felt like prying at that point."

“Observation of Penny’s performance is your primary objective,” Ciel pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I have to spy on her every moment,” Twilight insisted. “Just so long as I can produce sufficient body of evidence to submit to the General for recommendation by the end of semester.” Twilight pushed her glasses back up her nose. "I know… I know that this isn't what we planned," she said, "but General Ironwood approved this."

"I know," Ciel said. "And I will obey the orders of my commanding officer without hesitation or complaint." The words 'but that doesn't mean I have to like it' hung unspoken in the air.

Twilight's brow furrowed. "I think they're right. Rainbow Dash and General Ironwood. Penny… Penny deserves a chance to have a little fun and make friends."

"You and Rainbow Dash both vouched for the congeniality of your friends," Ciel reminded Twilight, "and having met them, I can understand why."

"Well, that's… thank you," Twilight said. "But the fact is that they're mine and Rainbow's friends, not Penny's. What right do we have to say 'these are your friends; I've chosen them for you because I approve of them’?"

"My parents approved of all my friends when I was a child," Ciel pointed out.

"Was that before or after you'd met them?"

"Before," Ciel said. "They introduced me to the children of fellow soldiers whom they knew and who knew them."

"That…" Twilight trailed off for a moment. "If my parents had done that, I never would have met Rainbow Dash, and if I hadn't met her, then… sometimes, you just have to take a chance, you know? Have a little faith?"

"Faith is rewarded," Ciel told her. "So is rigorous preparation."

Spike looked up, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and barked happily at the door. He only barked at the door like that when one of Twilight's friends came around, and – notwithstanding the inexplicable abilities of Pinkie Pie – in this city, and this Academy, that could only be Rainbow Dash.

Sure enough, there was a knock at the door just a few seconds later.

Twilight was about to get up, but she was halted by a raised hand from Ciel.

"It's just Rainbow Dash," Twilight said.

"We'll see," Ciel said in a tone devoid of emotion. She put down her heavy book and got up, picking up the pistol that sat on the arm of her chair.

She loaded and cocked it as she walked towards the door.

Do we really need to be so paranoid? Yes, Penny's nature was a secret, but the four kingdoms were at peace, Vale and Atlas were allies, and this was Beacon Academy for crying out loud; Rainbow Dash wouldn't have suggested staying in Vale and General Ironwood wouldn't have agreed to it if this city was a dangerous place.

Ciel pressed herself against the wall and peered out of the peephole. She made a slightly exasperated noise as she opened the door to reveal Rainbow Dash and Penny.

"Hey," Rainbow said with a sheepish smile on her face. "We brought take-out." She raised a couple of plastic bags bulging with cardboard noodle boxes. Twilight could smell the Mistralian food from where she sat.

"Welcome back," Twilight said. "Are you guys okay?"

"We are in excellent condition!" Penny replied as she followed Rainbow inside.

Ciel shut the door behind them with just a little more force than was necessary. "You have been out of contact for three hours and forty-two minutes."

"Sometimes, I can't tell which one is the automaton," Rainbow muttered as she walked into the centre of the room and deposited the bags of food on the floor. "Hey, Twi. Hey there, Spike."

Spike barked and leapt off Twilight's lap to run to Rainbow Dash's feet. Rainbow grinned as she knelt down and rubbed his chin.

"Kinda makes me miss Tank, seeing the little guy like this," Rainbow murmured.

"I'm sure Pinkie's taking care of him,” Twilight assured her.

"Yeah, if the alligator hasn't eaten him."

"Actually, at Gummy's size, his jaws don't have the strength to-”

"I'll take your word for it, Twi; you know math isn't my thing."

"Is that why you were out so late?" Ciel asked, folding her arms.

"We were out with my new friends!" Penny declared cheerfully.

"Indeed," Ciel said. "For a long time."

"Pyrrha Nikos and Ruby Rose, right?" Twilight asked.

"That's right," Penny said. "Pyrrha's a lot less stern in person than she seems on the videos of her fights."

"That is because she was not in battle," Ciel suggested. "Combat requires focus, and focus often leads to a stern affect."

Rainbow rose to her feet. "We also met the other two members of Team Sapphire. Hey, Twilight, you'd never guess who their leader is."

Twilight blinked. It had to be someone that she and Rainbow both knew, or she wouldn't be bringing it up. Equally, it had to be someone she wouldn't necessarily expect to be in such a position. Who did they know who had gone to Beacon? "Flash Sentry?"

Rainbow shook her head. "Sunset Shimmer."

Twilight's eyebrows rose. "You ran into Sunset Shimmer?"

"Yup. Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire."

"And you're both still in one piece?" Twilight asked.

Rainbow grinned. "She's actually kind of mellowed out since we last saw her."

Twilight frowned and couldn't keep the scepticism out of her voice. "Really?"

Rainbow shrugged. "Kind of."

Twilight would believe that when she saw it. She didn't have the best memories of Sunset Shimmer. She hadn't asked for Flash Sentry to ask her out – and she had said no, because she wasn't interested – but that hadn't stopped Sunset from acting like Twilight had set out to steal her boyfriend.

Ciel cleared her throat loudly. "What happened?"

Rainbow opened her mouth, but once again, Penny spoke before her. "We went to the arcade. It was a lot of fun! Ruby and I-"

"Penny," Rainbow said, gently but firmly, "I don't think Ciel wants a blow-by-blow account."

"An arcade?" Ciel repeated. "You took Penny to an arcade?"

"You say that like I took her to somewhere really immoral," Rainbow said. "What do you have against video games?"

Ciel stared at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash stared right back.

"I was right there; Penny was never in any danger," Rainbow said firmly.

"You exposed her to outsiders."

"Isn't that what we're supposed to be testing?"

Ciel was silent for a moment. "True," she admitted. "As much as I would have preferred to vet Penny's friends beforehand, your plan has merit. It will determine if Penny can interact with the general population."

"Exactly," Rainbow said. "Now, can we eat before the takeout gets cold?"

Ciel's glance at the food was barely noticeable, but Twilight noticed it regardless.

"Very well," she said.

Rainbow and Ciel were taking out the trash, which required both of them only insofar as they would only have to find the dumpster once, which left Twilight keeping an eye on Penny.

Well, she was sort of keeping an eye on her. She was also still working on the swords, even as she fed Spike a piece of chicken with one hand. He gobbled it up greedily and then nibbled playfully at Twilight's fingers. The tickling sensation made her chuckle a little.

"What are you doing, Twilight?" Penny asked.

"I'm trying to find a way to modify your swords," Twilight said, "so that you can control them without the need for wires."

"Why?" Penny asked curiously.

"Because the wires represent a vulnerability in your design," Twilight said. Doctor Polendina's original design had called for the blades to work on a drone model, powered independently and driven by signals from Penny's core processor. Unfortunately, they couldn't design a sword with a combination of independent power supply and signal receiver that remained compact enough to fit into Penny's backpack with the requisite number of other swords. Ideally, they wouldn't have moved to production until that issue had been sorted, but too much time and money had already been invested in Penny by that point to put everything on hold until they could resolve the issue, so they had moved to a wire-based control model. Hopefully, it would only be temporary if Twilight could find a way to miniaturise the necessary elements of the drone design. "And the goal of our engineering should be to eliminate vulnerabilities."

Penny was silent for a moment. "I thought I was designed to protect the vulnerable, not destroy them."

"Um, that's not quite what I meant by vulnerabilities, Penny," Twilight corrected.

"Oh."

"What I meant was," Twilight continued, as she frowned a little at the holographic display. "Is that we should always try and improve what we've made, to make it better. Does that make more sense?"

"So removing Floating Array’s wires will make me better?"

"I think so, yes."

"Oh," Penny repeated. She glanced at the closed door. "Am I in trouble for what I did?"

Twilight shook her head. "I don't think it's possible for you to get into trouble, Penny."

"Even though I ran away?"

"Not even for that," Twilight said. "Allowances are made for your… you. But, uh, don't do it again, okay. The more you learn, the less allowances will be made for your inexperience."

"Oh," Penny said. "Twilight, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Twilight replied.

"Oh."

Twilight waited a moment. "Sorry, that was… never mind. Yes, Penny, of course you can ask me a question."

"You and Rainbow Dash are friends, aren't you?"

Twilight nodded. "My best friend."

"How do you know?" Penny asked.

"Hmm?"

"How do you know that Rainbow Dash is really your friend?" Penny asked.

Twilight looked away from the hologram, and twisted round to look at Penny. The latter was sat on one of the four beds in the dorm room, her hands resting on her knees, her face illuminated with eager curiosity.

"Penny," Twilight asked, "what's this about?"

"I want to know," Penny said, "how you know that your friend is really your friend. And how you know that you are really their friend. You say that you and Rainbow Dash are friends, but how do you know?"

Twilight cringed a little and looked away from Penny as she absently reached up and started to play with one of the strands of her hair. Her fingertips brushed against her six-pointed star hairclip. "I… it took me some time to find the answer to that myself, Penny."

"But you did, didn't you?"

"Eventually," Twilight said softly. "When I was a child, it felt as though… I was searching for something more but with no idea of what it was. I aced tests, I was praised for my intelligence… but it wasn't enough. I wanted… I needed… more than that. It was as though… I had an emptiness inside me. A void that I couldn't fill, no matter how much I tried. It wasn't until I met my friends that I realised that they were what I'd been missing, that that was what I'd been searching for to fill that void." She chuckled. "I'm afraid this must all seem really unscientific, because it is. I can't tell you how I know that Rainbow Dash is my friend; I can't quantify it that way. I could tell you the things that Rainbow has done for me, the things that all of my friends have done for me, but that's not really it. It's something that I feel… in my soul. When I'm around my friends… everything feels better." She groaned. "I'm terrible at explaining this; I'm sorry. If Pinkie were here, then maybe-"

"No," Penny said. "That… I think I understand. So, Twilight, do you think that I could feel that too? Do you think that I could know that Ruby and Pyrrha are my friends?"

Twilight hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said. "You have a soul, Penny. And if you have a soul, then you can feel in your soul. You're a person." A person that we built to fight grimm until you die or your parts give out, without ever once asking if that's what you wanted to do with your life. Suddenly, Twilight felt rather ill.

"Twilight?" Penny asked. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. I'm wrong. What we're doing is wrong. This whole situation is wrong! Twilight tried to keep her burgeoning sense of horror at what she had allowed herself to become a part of off her face. She needed to talk to someone about this, someone other than Penny. She needed – she wanted – Rainbow to tell her that they were not complicit in a monstrous act.

She turned off the hologram. She couldn't work on improving Penny's ability to destroy her enemies at this moment.

"I… I'm fine, Penny," she stammered. "I just, uh-"

The door opened, and Rainbow and Ciel came back.

Oh, thank goodness. Twilight put Spike down on the floor and got up. "Um, Ciel, can you take over watching Penny for a bit? I really need to talk to Rainbow Dash."

Ciel nodded. "Very well."

"Outside?" Rainbow suggested.

"Yeah," Twilight said with a nod of her head.

They left the dorm room, Rainbow closing the door behind them as they emerged into the deserted corridor. In time, this part of the campus would hold all of the visiting Atlas students, but right now, it was only them. As a consequence, it was quiet and rather dark. Twilight drifted to the other side of the corridor, clutching nervously at her skirt.

"What's up, Twi?" Rainbow asked solicitously.

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose as she turned around to face her best and oldest friend. "I want you to tell me that we're not doing something awful."

"We're not doing something awful."

"Can you try and say it as though you mean it?"

Rainbow folded her arms. "What's this about, Twilight?"

"What do you think?" Twilight replied. "We've built a slave."

Rainbow frowned. "You're being a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Penny doesn't get a choice in what she does or where she goes," Twilight said. "We tell her what to do, and we expect her to do it even if… how is that any different from the way that the faunus were treated before the Great War?"

"Nobody built the faunus; Penny was created for this," Rainbow said.

"Does that matter?"

"I don't know, does it?" Rainbow replied. "Our combat droids, they can think for themselves, right?"

"Kind of, on a simplistic level."

"You don't worry about them being slaves."

"A knight didn't just ask me what friendship was and how I knew that you and I were really friends," Twilight said.

"Penny asked you that?"

"Yes."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "Wow. Okay, now I see why you're a little… like this."

Twilight approached her friend. "Rainbow, what are we doing?"

"We're helping Penny find out what's worth fighting for," Rainbow said.

"Huh?" Twilight murmured.

Rainbow looked at Twilight over her shoulder. "Come on, Twilight; your father was a soldier, your brother is one, you know how this works. Nobody is born ready to die for Atlas. Except maybe Ciel." Rainbow grinned. "I wasn't the awesome soldier you see here before I met you. But after meeting you, after Shining Armour took me under his wing, introduced me to General Ironwood, I started to figure out what's worth fighting for, even dying for. We all have to find the answer to that by ourselves, and maybe Penny can do that here in Vale. And if she does, then it won't matter whether she has a choice in the matter or not, because once she starts to fight for something that she believes in, then she'll do it anyway."

Although the Great War was ultimately lost for Mantle and its allies on land, for the greatest part of the duration of the conflict, it was the oceans that caused the most sleepless nights for the King of Mantle and his councillors. At the beginning of the Great War, Mantle imported 80% of its annual food consumption, thirty million tons of shipping, most of it from Mistral. Defending the integrity of this supply line from Valish surface raiders and submarines was the most urgent task facing Mantle’s Warfleet.

Penny started clicking her tongue.

Ciel lowered her book and looked at the girl on the bed next to hers. “Is something wrong, Penny?”

Penny looked at Ciel. “I am… I believe the word is ‘bored.’”

“Really?” Ciel said dryly. Nevertheless, she put down her book. She had six little brothers, and she knew from experience that boredom only got worse, never better; attempting to ignore it was only storing up trouble for later. “Is there something that you would like to do?”

“I’d like to go and see Ruby and Pyrrha,” Penny said. “They’re in this school, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Ciel allowed, “but they are students, and as I understand, they have quarter-terms tests due next week. In fact, I believe they have a practical test tomorrow. Doubtless, they will wish to study, having wasted an afternoon.”

“Wasted it with me?”

Ciel swung her legs off the bed and down onto the floor so that she was facing Penny. “That is not what I meant. Any frivolous activity, whether accompanied by you or not, could be considered wasteful in such circumstances.”

Penny nodded, but she said, “But I miss them already.”

“You are very young, Penny, and such feelings are natural - maybe even desirable - in a child,” Ciel said, “but your new friends are older than you are, and as you grow up, you will learn that friendship does not give you the right to insert yourself into their life without consideration for what other demands they have upon their time.”

“I see,” Penny replied. “Except I don’t.”

“No, I don’t expect you to at this stage,” Ciel replied. “As I say, it is something you will learn as you grow up.”

“I…” Penny hesitated. “But I’m still bored.”

“In my house, if you said you were bored where my parents could hear you, then you were asking to be given a chore to do,” Ciel declared.

“What kind of chores?” Penny asked.

“That depended upon where we were living at the time,” Ciel said. “Although cleaning either our room or any other part of the house was a perennial favourite. When we lived in Vacuo, the porch had to be swept to keep the sand away. Someone had to walk the dog-”

“You have a dog?” Penny asked excitedly. “Like Spike?”

Spike barked excitedly.

Ciel smiled fondly. “Archie was a little larger than Spike; he was my father’s dog. He had been the mascot of the Courageous before he got a little too old to be safe aboard ship, so my father took him in. He was a very friendly dog and always gentle around the younger children.”

“Was?”

“He was an old dog,” Ciel explained. “He died peacefully in his sleep and was buried with full military honours.”

“Is Spike our mascot?” Penny asked.

Spike barked.

“Spike is Twilight’s pet,” Ciel corrected her. “Some teams of huntsmen use dogs to assist them in their operations, but Spike is not such an animal.”

“Oh,” Penny said. “So, when you are bored, you do chores?”

“Not since I left home, no,” Ciel replied. “I have many things to occupy my hands and time. I study, maintain my weapons, read, make model ships-”

“So what can I do?” Penny inquired.

“What do you want to do?” Ciel turned the question back on her. “Besides spend more time with Ruby and Pyrrha?”

Penny thought about it for a moment. “Could we watch a little TV? I’m really enjoying that LovelyHearts show Twilight introduced me to.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure that you deserve television after the way that you’ve behaved recently.”

Penny pouted. “No fair, Ciel! I said I was sorry!”

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured. “You can watch one hour of television, then you should do something productive.”

“Okay,” Penny conceded. “Are you going to watch with me? It’s always better watching with friends.”

Ciel was not such a fan of Twilight’s magical girl cartoon, but she nevertheless said, “Yes, Penny, I’ll watch it with you.” She got up off her bed and took out the scroll.

The door opened, and Rainbow and Twilight came in.

“What’s up?” Rainbow asked, as she closed the door behind her.

“We’re about to watch some LovelyHearts,” Penny declared.

“Great idea,” Twilight said. “We can all watch it together.”

“If you’d told me we were going to have a viewing party, I’d have picked up snacks,” Rainbow said, as a smile played across her face.

Twilight was more familiar with the show in question, so she took over finding the right episode, while Ciel and Rainbow sat down on - in Ciel’s case - or beside - in Rainbow’s case - Penny’s bed while she did so. Twilight was almost ready when there was another knock on the door.

Twilight opened it, revealing Beacon’s Headmaster, Professor Ozpin, standing on the other side.

“Good evening, students,” he said genially. “May I come in?”

“O-of course, sir,” Twilight said, stepping back to admit him.

Ciel leapt to her feet as the headmaster crossed the threshold. “Officer on deck, ten-hut!”

Rainbow and even Penny got to their feet, slamming them into the floor as they stood to attention.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Please, there’s no need for that; this isn’t Atlas, and I’m not an officer.”

“At ease,” Rainbow commanded.

Ciel clasped her hands behind her back. “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Of course, Miss-”

“Soleil, sir, Ciel Soleil. Obviously, you are correct that this is not Atlas, but you are still our superior and deserve respect.”

“I’ve always been of the opinion that respect should be earned, not blindly given,” Professor Ozpin mused, “but I’m resigned to the fact that James and I fundamentally disagree on that.”

Ciel would have frowned if it had been permitted. Is he attempting to imply that General Ironwood is not deserving of respect? Or simply that not all officers are?

“If it’s any consolation, sir, we respect the office, not you,” offered Penny cheerfully.

“Penny!” Ciel managed to bark, hiss, and snap, all at the same time.

Professor Ozpin, amazingly, did not seem offended. In fact, he chuckled. “Then I hope that I can become worthy of your respect, Miss Polendina.”

“Is there anything we can do for you, sir?” Rainbow asked.

“On the contrary Miss… Dash, isn’t it? Rainbow Dash.”

“Yes sir.”

“Indeed, James speaks very highly of you,” Professor Ozpin said. “He speaks highly of all four of you, but especially you, Miss Dash. In any case, I wished to welcome you to Beacon Academy. Though you’ve arrived a little early, I hope you’ll find your stay here productive and enjoyable.”

“I’m sure we will, sir,” Rainbow said.

“Thank you, sir, for lodging us so early in the year,” Ciel added.

“Not at all, Miss Soleil. While I confess that I do find that Beacon becomes rather desolate during the years when the Vytal Festival is held in other kingdoms, I remain a great supporter of the system of each school playing host to students from the other academies and of the ideals that lie behind it. We are four kingdoms, true, but all part of one common humanity, and we must not lose sight of that fact.”

“We do not, sir,” Ciel declared. “After all, does not the power of Atlas embrace all our neighbours, warding them with our might and valour without ever asking for reward?”

“It might certainly be put that way,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “Is there anything that I can do for you? Do you have everything you need?”

“We are a little short on school supplies, but we will remedy the situation before the resumption of classes on Monday,” Ciel said. “We have our timetables, and maps of the school, and our scrolls have been registered to permit access to all relevant buildings.”

“Excellent,” Professor Ozpin said. “In which case, I’ll leave you all to your evening. If you need any help, then I’m sure any of the staff or other students will be glad to assist you, and if they cannot give you what you need, then my door is open.

“Welcome to Beacon, Team Rosepetal. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The action has moved from a motel room to Beacon Academy, while Twilight's discussion with Rainbow takes a slightly different turn. There is also a new scene where the Rosepetals meet Ozpin.

Practical Test (New)

Practical Test

“So,” Yang said, as Team YRDN took their accustomed seats opposite Team SAPR, “are you guys looking forward to our first real grimm hunt?”

“Speak for yourself,” Nora said. “Me and Ren have been hunting grimm for years.”

“And I’ve fought grimm before too,” Yang replied, seeming a little irked at having her experience questioned.

“Technically speaking, we’ve all fought grimm before,” Sunset reminded them. “In the Initiation.”

“Well, yeah, obviously, that’s why I said ‘official,’” Yang said, with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “We’re Beacon students now, about to go out on a field mission. Are you really not in the least bit excited about all this?”

“I’m excited,” Ruby piped up. “Team Sapphire on their first real mission!”

“Forever Fall doesn’t count as a mission?” Jaune asked.

“Forever Fall was only about collecting sap from some trees,” Ruby replied. “We weren’t necessarily supposed to fight any grimm.”

Sunset tucked her hands behind the back of her head. “Of course, Yang and I have already been on a mission to fight the grimm.”

“Not with our teams,” Yang reminded her. “Come on, are you not excited?”

“I am more concerned with passing the test,” Sunset said. “Especially since Professor Port has been pretty cagey about what this test is going to involve.”

“I think he’s said a fair bit,” Yang said. “I mean he told us we were going to get dropped into the Emerald Forest to take care of a whole bunch of grimm.”

“Sure, but how is he going to measure our progress?” Sunset asked. “Does everyone pass if they survive? Do we get points for killing grimm, and if so, do we get different points depending on what kind of grimm we kill? How are we supposed to tailor our strategy if we don’t know what the optimal outcome is?”

“Maybe that’s why Professor Port has kept his mouth shut about it,” Ruby suggested. “So that instead of trying to come up with the best strategy to pass the test, we just focus on killing the grimm.”

Yang smirked. “That’s a nice idea, but you might be giving Professor Port a little too much credit.”

“Or you don’t give him enough,” Sunset countered.

Yang rolled her eyes. “You might think that you get something out of his lessons, but I’m sorry, if he wants me to think that he’s a good teacher, he needs to teach in a way that we can all get something out of his lessons.”

“Anyway,” Nora said, “in answer to your first question, I am looking forward to this! It feels like too long since we had a chance to cut loose!”

“I’m just glad for the opportunity,” Pyrrha said softly. “I must confess, it sometimes feels as though the practical elements of the curriculum focus far too heavily on fighting other people.”

“At which you’re top of the class,” Sunset pointed out.

“It does seem just a little strange to complain about a task at which you excel,” Ren pointed out.

“I’m not complaining,” Pyrrha said quickly, “or at least, if it sounds as though I’m complaining, I apologise; it’s just that… this may sound selfish, and perhaps it’s just the fact that I already have a great deal of experience in single combat, but it is experience fighting the creatures of grimm that I lack, and I would prefer if the balance of practical study tilted a little more towards them.”

“Put like that… I’m inclined to agree,” Ren said. “Nora and I have more experience fighting grimm than other humans, but, for all that a trained huntsman may sometimes be the only people who can stand against a rogue huntsman, nevertheless I came here to learn to defend humanity against the grimm.”

“That’s why we all came here,” Yang said. “To learn how to fight monsters. It was even the intro to Professor Port’s class, but… yeah, I guess we really haven’t done that much of that so far, have we?”

“Speaking for myself,” Pyrrha said, “I’m grateful for this opportunity to correct my deficiency.”

“So you are excited,” Yang pressed.

“I’m eager to learn,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m well aware that, for all my prowess in the sparring ring, when it comes to fighting grimm, I’m considerably behind Ruby.”

“Didn’t you tell me that most of the techniques for fighting people would work against grimm, too?” Jaune reminded her.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “You’re going to do great, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha smiled at her. “I’m sure that we’ll all do as well as necessary,” she said, looking away from Ruby to glance at Jaune. “All of us.”

Jaune took a deep breath. He was looking a little nervous, sitting at the end of the table, picking at his breakfast. “Yeah,” he agreed, without much conviction or enthusiasm. “All of us.”

“Ruby! Pyrrha!”

The heads of all four sapphires turned in the direction of the shout from… Penny?

Penny was standing at the cold counter, waving excitedly. Rainbow Dash was just a step behind, along with a girl that Sunset didn’t recognise and… Twilight Sparkle.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. What is she doing here? Shouldn’t she be in a science lab somewhere?

Team RSPT made their way over to the table currently occupied by SAPR and YRDN. They were all dressed in Atlesian whites: white shirts with grey waistcoats, white belts and grey ties. They all wore grey pleated skirts that stopped just above their knees, grey stockings and high black boots. Rainbow Dash was distinguished by a red aiguillette wound about her right shoulder.

“Penny!” Ruby cried. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re going to be staying at Beacon!” Penny announced cheerfully as she practically ran towards the table.

“Penny,” the girl whom Sunset didn’t know, dark skinned and muscular, stopped her with a single word in a warning tone.

Penny halted and cleared her throat. “May I please sit with you?”

Yang shrugged, a grin that was both amused and bemused upon her face. “Be our guest.”

“Wonderful!” Penny cried. “Thank you so much!”

“Here,” Sunset said, shifting one place to the right. “Penny, you can sit there.” She thought that Penny would want to talk to Ruby more than to her, and she had no desire to be talked past for the rest of the meal.

“Thank you, Sunset,” Penny replied and sat down next to Ruby. “Good morning, Ruby. Good morning, Pyrrha. Good morning, everyone.”

Pyrrha chuckled good-naturedly. “Good morning to you too, Penny.”

“Penny,” Ruby said, “why didn’t you tell us that you were going to be staying at Beacon?”

“Why spoil the surprise?” Rainbow asked, with the biggest smirk on her face as she said, “What’s up, Sunset?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sunset said, through gritted teeth. “Nothing at all.”

Twilight looked away. “Um, hello again, Sunset.”

Sunset, too, looked away. “Twilight.”

“So,” Yang began awkwardly, “you must be the people that Ruby ran into yesterday.”

“Yep,” Rainbow said, pausing on her way to a seat to ruffle Ruby’s hair. She sat down next to Sunset, sandwiching her in between Rainbow and Penny. “Rainbow Dash, leader of Team Rosepetal.”

“Ciel Soleil,” the dark skinned young woman declared, curtsying while still holding a breakfast tray with perfect poise. She was wearing white gloves over her hands, uniquely amongst her team. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Ciel sat down opposite Sunset.

“And I’m Twilight Sparkle,” Twilight added, as she sat down next to Ciel.

“Ciel, Twilight,” Penny said. “These are my new friends: Ruby Rose, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, and-”

“Twilight and I have met already,” Sunset said.

“Let it go,” Rainbow muttered, in a voice that verged upon a growl.

Sunset glanced at her. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes, you do,” Rainbow said. “Which is why I’m telling you to let it go. I’m not going to stand for it.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You’re not going to stand for it?”

“That’s right,” Rainbow said. “You got a problem with that?”

Sunset stared at Rainbow. Rainbow stared right back at Sunset.

Sunset blinked first. “No,” she muttered. She couldn’t forgive Twilight for trying to steal her boyfriend – not when she could have pretty much had her pick from the whole school – but she didn’t want to ask angering Rainbow Dash, not when she was in a position to do Sunset some real damage.

“So, anyway,” Yang said. “I’m Yang; this is Nora, Ren, and Dove.”

“Hey there!” Nora cried.

“Welcome,” Ren said.

“It’s a pleasure,” Dove declared.

“So, Atlas students, huh?” Yang said. “What brings you four to Beacon?”

“We’re here to fight in the tournament,” Penny said.

“But the tournament isn’t held until the end of the year,” Ren pointed out, “and the students from the other schools don’t usually arrive until the second semester.”

“We’re taking in the lay of the land,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “We want to give ourselves the best chance of beating you losers come the tournament.”

Yang gasped theatrically. “Oh, it is on,” she declared. “I like you already, Rainbow Dash. I’m looking forward to seeing that bravado drain right out of you when we face each other in the sparring ring.”

“I hear it’s not the sparring ring you guys have to worry about today,” Rainbow said.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “We were just discussing our Grimm Studies practical test before you arrived. We don’t know much about it, other than that it will involve being inserted into the Emerald Forest to fight off the remains of a grimm horde.”

“A grimm horde?” Rainbow repeated.

“That’s right,” Sunset said. “Me and a few of my fellow team leaders – but mostly me, obviously – stopped a level one horde heading straight to Vale. We killed the apex alpha beowolf, and the grimm have dispersed in the forest.”

Yang grinned. “What my modest fellow team leader hasn’t mentioned is that, first of all, the killing blow was a joint effort, and second of all, even if we hadn’t stopped the horde, the destroyer in the skies waiting for it would have.”

“If you really believe that, then why did you hunt it?” Ciel asked.

Yang frowned. “Because that was our mission,” she said. “Do as much damage to the horde as possible before it hit the defences.”

“It would have been wiser to have waited at the defences and taken advantage of the fire support,” Ciel said.

Yang snorted. “That might be how you do things in Atlas, but here in Vale, we don’t need a navy holding our hands in the field to get things done.”

“Oh it is so on,” Rainbow declared.

Twilight sighed. “And it’s only our first morning here.”

“I wish that we could join you for your exercise,” Penny said, “but as we’ve only just arrived-”

“We’d love to join you, but if we did, there’d be no grimm left for the rest of you,” Rainbow said.

“You just can’t stop, can you?” Twilight said.

“Please ignore our team leader’s ego,” Ciel said. “We are looking forward to attending classes with you starting Monday.”

“Ruby, Pyrrha,” Penny said, “could we go back into Vale tomorrow and pick up some school supplies?”

“That would be helpful,” Ciel said. “There is a great deal we require.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Pyrrha said.

“Sunset, that’s okay, isn’t it?” Ruby asked.

“Sure,” Sunset said. “Why not?”

“Wonderful!” Penny cried.

“So, Jaune,” Twilight said. “Are you by any chance related to Aoko Arc?”

Jaune looked up, his eyes wide. “You know my sister?”

“Well… know her might be a bit much, but we’ve corresponded,” Twilight explained. “Your sister has some fascinating ideas, things that even I hadn’t thought of.” She frowned. “It’s funny, she never mentioned that you were a huntsman in training.”

“Aoko… talks about me?” Jaune asked, sounding very surprised now.

“Yeah,” Twilight said, “sometimes. Do you want me to let her know where you are?”

“No,” Jaune said, a little louder than necessary. “That’s, um, I mean… actually, if you could let her know that I’m okay, that would be great, thank you.”

Twilight smiled at him. “No problem.”

Sunset looked at Twilight. “You know, Twilight, I would not have expected to see you as part of a huntsman team.”

Twilight laughed nervously. “Well, you know, change can be a good thing.”

“And she must have gone to combat school if you knew each other, right?” Ruby said. “You were at Canterlot, like Lyra and Bon Bon?”

“Well, sort- oh, hey, Weiss!” Twilight cried, half rising from her seat as Team WWSR walked into the dining hall. Weiss glanced at her, but then focussed upon collecting her breakfast; rather, it was Flash who kept his eyes on Twilight as he, too, got his breakfast, and then the team made their way down the avenue between the two rows of tables.

Weiss stopped. “Twilight Sparkle, yes? We met at the Elevation Day Gala?”

Of course you did, Sunset thought grumpily.

“That’s right,” Twilight said. “You sang the national anthem very beautifully.”

Weiss laughed bashfully. “Yes, well, it was Elevation Day, after all. But what are you doing here? And in an Atlas Academy uniform?”

Ciel got to her feet. “Our team is studying at Beacon this year with the aim of competing in the Vytal Festival. Ciel Soleil, Miss Schnee, at your service.”

Weiss turned around to look at Ciel. “Ah, you must be the team leader.”

“Actually,” Rainbow said, getting to her feet in turn, “that would be me. Rainbow Dash, leader of Team Rosepetal. And this is the fourth member of our team, Penny Polendina.”

Penny waved. “Hello, Weiss.”

“Penny,” Ciel said. “This is Weiss Schnee.”

“Oh!” Penny gasped. “I’m sorry, Weiss- I mean, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss didn’t appear to notice Penny. She was too focussed on Rainbow Dash. A faint flush of pink rose to her cheeks. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s quite alright, Miss Schnee,” Rainbow said, with a smile on her face. “Just a misunderstanding. And on behalf of my team, I’d just like to say that if there’s anything that I or my team can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Finally, a faunus who knows her place,” Cardin muttered, which made a muscle in Rainbow’s face twitch, but she said nothing.

Weiss did not reply for a moment. “That’s… very kind of you,” Weiss said. “May we sit here?”

“Be our guest,” Rainbow said, before she sat down.

Who are you, and what have you done with Rainbow Dash?

As the other members of Team WWSR sat down, Flash remained standing, facing Twilight. He held onto his breakfast tray with one hand as he chuckled and scratched awkwardly. “Twilight,” he said. “Long time no see, huh?”

If he makes a move on her, I’m going to scratch someone’s eyeballs out, Sunset thought.

“Hello again, Flash,” Twilight murmured.

“Listen, Twilight,” Flash said, “I don’t know how you ended up here, but I’m sorry.”

Sunset raised her head in surprise. Twilight looked pretty surprised herself.

“Sorry?” she said.

“For… hitting on you, back in Canterlot,” Flash said. “I should have taken the hint that you weren’t interested the first time. I’ve… seen from the outside how it looks, and it’s not cool.”

Jaune made a kind of groaning, mewling noise and turned away. Pyrrha gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“Is there any chance,” Flash went on, “that we could start over?”

“Of course,” Twilight said, with a smile that was relieved, but not half as relieved as Sunset felt. “I’d be glad to.”

“Great,” Flash said. “That’s a load off. Thanks, Twi.”

“Happy to help,” Twilight said. “Good luck out there in the forest today.”

“For the past four weeks, we have been in continual practice,” Weiss declared. “We have no need of luck. But your good wishes are appreciated nonetheless.”

Team BLBL were the last to arrive, ambling into the breakfast hall and seeming surprised to find the first year table so full... and Team WWSR sitting there. Bon Bon and Lyra were especially surprised to see Rainbow Dash and Twilight.

“What’s the Ace of Canterlot doing here?” Bon Bon asked. “And why are you sitting at the table with babies like us?”

“I’m… taking first year again,” Rainbow admitted.

“'Again'?” Yang asked. “You’re eighteen?”

Sky snorted. “What kind of an ace has to re-sit a year?”

“The kind whose team got caught in an ambush and only survived because of her,” Lyra said acidly. “How’s Applejack?”

“Oh, you know Applejack; she’ll be fine,” Rainbow said. “She’s taking a break for this year: work at the farm, figure stuff out, spend time with her family, all that good old Applejack stuff. Maud’s doing the same.”

“That’s great to hear,” Lyra said. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to take some time yourself.”

“Pfft, no,” Rainbow said. “What would I be doing if I wasn’t kicking ass and saving the day?”

While they had been talking, Blake had been staring at Rainbow in amazement. It was weird, the way that she didn’t seem able to tear her golden eyes away from Rainbow. It was almost as if…

Oh. Oh, right.

This could get awkward.Or it could get fun.

Rainbow noticed Blake staring. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“This is our team leader, Blake Belladonna,” Lyra said.

“You’re… a faunus,” Blake murmured.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, some sharpness entering her voice.

“And… you’re wearing an Atlas uniform?”

Twilight cringed. Ciel frowned a little.

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow said. “Is that a problem?”

Blake seemed to abruptly realise what Rainbow was thinking. “Oh, no!” she said. “I would never… I was just surprised to see a faunus wearing the uniform of the kingdom whose military oppresses the faunus across Remnant.”

The temperature around the table seemed to drop by several degrees. Twilight let out a squeak of dismay. Ciel’s frown deepened. Flash winced. Lyra and Bon Bon seemed both to be holding their breath. Everyone else just stared at Blake like she’d grown a second head and it had declared its intention to destroy Beacon Academy.

Rainbow smiled. “You know what I was really hoping for when I woke up today? You know what I really thought would put the cherry on everything? Some clueless human calling me a sell-out. So thanks a lot; you’ve made my day.”

Blake did not reply. She looked torn between outrage and apology, but in the end, she expressed neither. Although her head did bow a little as she walked away.

“That… was a little harsh,” Lyra said, in a tone of gentle admonishment.

“And what she said was insulting,” Rainbow snapped. “To me and to Atlas.”

But what Weiss said wasn’t? Sunset thought.

“Blake,” Yang said. “None of us really know her that well, but she’s not a bad person. In fact, she’s really brave out in the field. I’m sure that she didn’t mean to upset you.”

Rainbow snorted but didn’t reply.

The rest of the breakfast passed in relative quiet until it was time to head to the lockers and get geared up for their practical test.

“Good luck, Ruby!” Penny called. “Good luck, Pyrrha!”

Sunset coughed loudly into her hand.

Rainbow grinned. “The great Sunset Shimmer needs luck now?”

“Good luck, everyone,” Penny corrected herself.

“If fortune is with us, then our valour will prevail,” Pyrrha murmured.

The Beacon students left as a group and departed en masse towards the locker room, leaving the Atlas students behind, suddenly very bereft and all alone, watching.

Twilight watched them go: Penny’s new friends, and her and Rainbow’s old friends from Canterlot. And Sunset.

They’ll be okay. It’s not like Beacon would assign them a hopeless battle as a test.

“I’m glad nobody but Sunset found it surprising that you’re a huntress student,” Rainbow said. “Or passing for one. I guess that you could find Lyra being here just as surprising.”

“She wants to help,” Twilight said softly.

“Doesn’t mean she’s good at it,” Rainbow replied.

“Not everyone can be you,” Twilight reminded her, pushing her glasses a little further up her nose.

“Of course not,” Rainbow said easily. “There’s only one of me.” She grinned, but only for a moment. “How does it feel to not have to worry about Flash?”

Twilight chuckled nervously. “It feels… it’s a relief, I have to admit.”

“What are you talking about?” Penny asked.

“Oh, nothing really,” Twilight said quickly. “It’s just that Flash was in the year below us at Canterlot, and, well, he found me… attractive.”

“Well, you are attractive, Twilight,” Penny said. “I think you’re pretty.”

Twilight blinked. “Um, that’s, uh, that’s nice, Penny, but I, uh, the point is that I wasn’t interested, and he had a difficult time understanding that.”

“He is handsome enough,” Ciel commented. “Although persistence is a vice in these matters.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Twilight said, “and I hope that he finds someone… someone he can be happy with. But that someone wasn’t me. I’m glad that he can accept that.” I wonder what caused him to realise that all of a sudden? She turned her attention to Rainbow Dash. “Did you have to be so… did you have to snap at Blake like that?”

“You heard what she said,” Rainbow cried. “Should I have let that go?”

“We have to live here for the next year,” Twilight reminded her, “and for the duration of this semester, it’s not as if we can retreat into the bosom of the other Atlas students if we burn all our bridges here.”

“I understand your concerns, but should we let the honour of Atlas be subject to slander?” Ciel demanded.

“I don’t understand,” Penny said. “What was it she said that was so terrible?”

Rainbow sighed, “There’s nothing to understand, Penny; that girl was just an idiot.” She got up and walked around the long table to sit down next to Twilight. Rainbow reached out and took Twilight’s hands in her own. “Twi, you are my… you’re my best friend, and I love you. But you will never understand this part of what it’s like to be me.” Her ears twitched. “You’ll never have to put up with people asking you how you can wear the Atlas uniform, calling you a traitor to your people, saying that… that we can’t really be friends because of what we are.”

“I have had that, actually,” Twilight whispered.

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “Who? When?”

“Stupid people when you first moved in with us; it doesn’t matter,” Twilight said. “The point is that I do know what it’s like to have our relationship questioned.”

“Then you understand why I’m tired of it,” Rainbow said. “I’m proud to wear this uniform, and I don’t have to explain or justify that to anyone, human or faunus. And I know that you don’t want me to start fights, and I get it… but I’m not going to let anyone insult Atlas, or the General, or you, or… I’ll behave myself, so long as she does.”

The freshman students – having gathered their weapons and, where necessary, their armour from the lockers – assembled in front of the skydocks, where several Bullheads were already waiting to transport them. They formed lines abreast by team, four teams to a line, and waited to hear just what was expected of them. Teams SAPR, YRDN, WWSR, and BLBL formed the first rank.

Professor Port was also waiting for them. “Good morning, students!” he declared. “It warms my heart to see you ready for action, bright-eyed and bushy tailed!” he chuckled, with a glance at Sunset.

Sunset laughed nervously as her tail brushed from side to side.

“As you may be aware,” ProfessorPort continued, striding up and down the line of students, “fairly recently, a level one concentration of grimm was detected moving through the Emerald Forest in the direction of Vale. Fortunately, swift and valiant action by our team leaders led to the horde dispersing throughout the Emerald Forest. Of course, that still leaves the forest playing host to higher than usual numbers of grimm, and that is where you come in. You will board these Bullheads by teams and be transported into the forest where you will disembark by pairs.”

“By pairs, sir?” Sunset asked.

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer, by partner pairs, in fact,” Professor Port clarified. “You will disembark with Miss Rose, then Miss Nikos and Mister Arc. The exercise will last for four hours, and your objective is to kill as many grimm as possible in that time. I will observe your progress through the forest’s security systems, rank each team based on their behaviour, and assign grades to each student and team accordingly.”

Which you aren’t going to tell us. It’s just like Ruby said, isn’t it?

“Now,” Professor Port said, “when I call your team name, board the Bullhead directly in front of you. Team Wisteria.”

Weiss led her team forward, where the four of them boarded the Bullhead on the left-hand skydock.

“Team Sapphire,” Professor Port said, and the four sapphires stepped forward, climbing aboard the second Bullhead. The airship took off as soon as they were all aboard, gripping the loops that hung from the ceiling as they were born out off the cliffs and over the vast green expanse that was the forest.

Jaune kept a tight grip on the hilt of his sword with his other hand. His head was bowed, and his eyes were uncertain.

“What’s wrong, Jaune?” Ruby asked. “Are you feeling airsick again?”

“Uh, no,” Jaune said quickly. “That was just a… nothing’s wrong,” he added.

“We should try and find each other once we dropped off,” Pyrrha suggested.

“If that’s not the point of the test, Professor Port might penalise us for it,” Sunset replied.

“We’re in teams of four for a reason,” Pyrrha retorted. “Just because we weren’t instructed to link up doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t. Professor Port might consider it an obvious step.”

“Or it might be a secret test,” Ruby suggested. “Where we have to think of it on our own.”

“I suppose that would fit with his opaque teaching style,” Sunset muttered, “I suppose he didn’t say not to, so, sure. Mark where we get off and try and make your way there. We’ll try not to move too far.”

The Bullhead descended over a small clearing, its engines rotating on the wing so that they were pointing downwards.

“Looks like this is where we get off,” Sunset said.

“Good hunting,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset grinned. “And the same to you,” she said before leaping down out of the Bullhead. Her legs bent as she hit the ground, her hair dancing around her head as the airship’s engines blew down upon her. Ruby landed beside her, Crescent Rose already extending in her hands as the Bullhead began to rise back into the sky and fly away to the north.

“I hope they’re okay,” Ruby said as the Bullhead passed out of sight, hidden by the thick trees that grew so high all around them.

“They’ll be fine,” Sunset replied. “It’s Pyrrha.”

“Pyrrha said she wasn’t that experienced at fighting grimm,” Ruby reminded her, “and Jaune seemed nervous.”

“They’ll be okay,” Sunset told her. “Trust me, I’ve got a good sense of these things.”

“Really?” Ruby asked, sounding a little sceptical.

“Yes, really,” Sunset said, as she looked around the clearing. It was rather ordinary, an earthy, nearly grassless little opening in the forest, a spotlight of sunshine amidst the dark eaves of the densely packed wood, with the only notable feature being a large stone sitting in the middle of the clearing. Sunset took a step towards it and felt her foot scuff against something on the ground. It turned out to be a coin, an old one by the looks of it, given that it was in a pretty rough state with the edge having been worn away and chipped. That and the fact that coins weren’t in much use any more.

“What’s that?” Ruby asked.

“I’m not sure; I just found it on the ground,” Sunset murmured, as she scooped the coin off the floor and held it up into the light.

It had a man’s face on one side, a rather ordinary face, even allowing for the fact that this was an old coin and one couldn’t expect a great likeness. His hair was a little untidier than Sunset would have expected, messy in a way that kind of reminded her of Jaune. Around the edge of the coin was inscribed the words ‘Osgiliath Rex’ and then something else that was partially lost by the fact that there were bits of the coin missing. Sunset turned it over. A woman’s face lay on the obverse side, pretty perhaps, but it was hard to tell, with a more elegant hairstyle than that of the man. ‘Sal’ was the first word, cut off by a missing metal, followed by ‘Regina’.

“Must be a relic from some old kingdom,” Sunset said, as she put the coin into her pocket. Maybe she’d show it to Doctor Oobleck later and see if it meant something to him.

“So,” Ruby said. “What do we do now?”

“Well, since we agreed to wait here for Jaune and Pyrrha, we can’t go looking for grimm,” Sunset said, as she unslung Sol Invictus from off her shoulder. “So we’d best see if we can’t draw them here.” She started to saunter towards the rock.

“How do you mean?”

Sunset sat down on the rock. “I mean that, since you wouldn’t know a negative emotion if it bit you, I will sit here and brood on the injustices of the world until some monsters come to eat me.”

“Hey, I have negative emotions,” Ruby protested. “I’m not just some cartoon character or something.”

“No,” Sunset conceded, “but of the two of us, I think we both know who is better suited towards attracting grimm with sheer negativity.”

Ruby walked towards her. “I don’t know,” she said. “You seem to be doing a lot better lately.”

“Really?” Sunset asked.

Ruby nodded. “You’ve barely gotten angry at all in the last week.”

Sunset snorted. “Well, I have you guys to thank for that,” she said, reaching out to pull Ruby into a hug, holding the smaller girl close against her for a moment. “That and… anyway. I bet I can still get my brood on now that the girl who tried to steal my boyfriend is here.”

Ruby frowned. “Who? You mean… Twilight Sparkle?”

“Uh huh,” Sunset acknowledged. “Okay, she didn’t exactly try to steal my boyfriend, but… after Flash broke up with me, he suddenly got interested in Twilight. And why wouldn’t he? Pretty Twilight Sparkle, sweet Twilight Sparkle, Fall Formal Princess Twilight Sparkle, everyone’s favourite bespectacled cutie pie Twilight Sparkle. Demure Twilight Sparkle who dressed like the Good Girl who gets the guy at the end in all those teen movies, while I… yeah, this. Twilight Sparkle who was so nice she’d stop in the corridor to help people gather up their books after I… I mean after some bad-tempered and malicious person had knocked them out of their hands.”

“Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully.

“I’m not proud, but she didn’t have to be so nice all the time,” Sunset growled. “She was like you but worse. She and Rainbow Dash ruled the school with their little clique; everyone wanted to be Rainbow Dash, and everyone wanted to be Twilight’s friend. And she was connected, too; her sister-in-law is on the Atlas Council, and that didn’t hurt her status one bit.” She sighed. “I thought I was free of all of them, and now, they’re here.”

“Yeah, but you’ve changed since you knew them last,” Ruby reminded her. “So maybe you can start over. Maybe when we go back into Vale tomorrow, you can… I don’t know, get to know them all over again.”

“That’s the other thing,” Sunset muttered. “I don’t get why they’re here. Twilight Sparkle is not a huntress; she was taking the ancillary aura track.”

“The what?”

“It’s… Canterlot offered courses not specifically tailored to those wanting to move from Combat School to one of the four academies,” Sunset explained. “I mean, it offered those as well, but it also offered other courses for people who wanted to learn how to use their aura, maybe unlock their semblance, but who didn’t really intend to apply for Atlas or Beacon. Twilight was like that. She was always more a scientist than a huntress.”

“People can change, like she said.”

“Not that fast,” Sunset countered thoughtfully. “Rainbow Dash, sure, but Twilight? And that thing about repeating a year, is that how it works? Something’s going on with them.”

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured, her expression pensive. “I’ve got it! Ciel is an Atlesian robot, and Twilight is here to keep her maintained while they test her out!”

Sunset looked at her. “A robot?”

“A human robot. Or a cyborg. A full cyborgised human with a robotic body.”

“You read too many comics,” Sunset declared.

“Uh… maybe,” Ruby conceded. “I’m just glad to have Penny here; she seems really nice.”

“And that sort of attitude is precisely why you cannot attract grimm,” Sunset said.

A growling sound drifted towards them from out of the forest nearby.

“I, on the other hand...” Sunset said, leaping down from off the rock.

Time to go to work.

Weiss leapt off a glyph, using it as a springboard as she soared through the air, rapier held before her. With the tip of her Myrtenaster, she impaled an ursa through the chest, using a blast of fire dust to finish it off.

She landed on the ground with perfect poise as the grimm disintegrated.

Behind her, Flash took the blow of the second ursa upon his shield, Rho Aias, before cutting off its other paw with a swing of his sword, Caliburn. The ursa moaned in pain, recoiling away from the young huntsman. Caliburn shifted from sword to spear in Flash’s hands as he thrust it forwards into the ursa’s chest, impaling the beast and driving it to the ground where it began to disintegrate into ashes.

“Nicely done,” Weiss commented.

“Thanks,” Flash said, a moment before a fusillade of shots from elsewhere in the forest split the air.

“We’re not the only ones to have encountered the grimm,” Weiss murmured, watching the birds scatter out of the trees.

“Sunset and Ruby,” Flash said.

Weiss raised one eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve heard Sol Invictus enough to know what it sounds like,” Flash replied.

“I suppose,” Weiss murmured. “In which case, I have no doubt that those two will be fine.”

“Yeah,” Flash said, with some conviction in his voice. He was armoured in a fashion which made him look more Mistralian than Atlesian, clad in a gilded cuirass in the antique style called lorica segmentata, with a helmet, likewise gilded, with a blue crest rising above his head. His shield was a large round hoplon that covered his torso completely. Studded pteruges descended from below his waist to cover his incongruous jeans, over which he also wore a set of gilded greaves. The fact that he was wearing a thoroughly modern black jacket with red and white stripes on the arms over his old-fashioned armour provided a discordantly anachronistic note. “So, which way now?”

Weiss hesitated, uncertain. She thrust Myrtenaster into the sash at her waist and checked the map on her scroll. “We’ll head west,” she announced, “towards where we fought the grimm concentration and defeated it. Perhaps there are still grimm who didn’t go very far.”

“Fine by me,” Flash said. As they began to walk, Weiss leading the way and Flash following behind her, Flash said, “I didn’t know that you knew Twilight.”

“We’re not friends,” Weiss explained quickly. “Although I think she might be a fan of my singing career. But we have met socially, from time to time. Her family is very well-connected.”

“She seems to think of you as a friend,” Flash pointed out.

“I get the impression that Twilight considers a great many people to be friends, whether they think of her in the same way or not,” Weiss replied.

“Twilight… she does have an open heart,” Flash said.

“Is that what attracted you to her?” Weiss asked.

Flash laughed nervously. “You… yeah, of course you heard that.”

“If you wanted privacy, you should have made a token effort to secure some,” Weiss said. “I must confess, I’m having trouble imagining you as Jaune Arc.”

“Yeah,” Flash groaned. “Not my greatest moment. I just… I really liked her. Or at least, I thought I did. She, and her friends, really helped me get it together after Sunset and I… and she was sweet and kind and… I thought there was something there. Turned out she was just being nice. Like you said, that’s just the way Twilight is.”

“Indeed,” Weiss murmured, and for that, she couldn’t help but envy the other girl.

It must be nice to make friends so easily.

“Of all the people to see around here,” Lyra said, “Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle.”

“I know, weird, right?” Bon Bon said. Weird… and a little troubling.

What were they doing here? What did they want? It was far too early for them to be here just for the Vytal Festival. The other Atlas students weren’t going to be here until the next semester, so what were Dash and Twilight doing here?

Had General Ironwood sent them? Something to do with the dust robberies? It was hard to imagine that Ironwood would put Twilight in the line of fire like that, but she could see him using Rainbow Dash as his instrument very easily. Rainbow was always bragging about how close she was to the general, how she was his protégé. It would be just like her to volunteer for a dangerous mission just to impress him.

Or for the general to manipulate her into putting her life at risk to impress him. Doctor Watts said that was how the powerful maintained their grip, after all: they flattered the egos of good people like Rainbow Dash until they could bend them to their will, gaining useful pawns and eliminating sources of challenge.

But Twilight, though; Twilight wasn’t a fighter. She was even less of one than Lyra was. So what was she doing here?

She is a scientist. Could it be something to do with Amber?

She would have to pass this information up the chain. If Atlas was onto them, then… then they might have to take steps.

Steps she didn’t really want to think about.

Twilight, Rainbow, I’m sorry.

But you shouldn’t have gotten involved in this.

Blake kicked the alpha creep up into the air, leaping after to slice its belly open with a slash from Gambol Shroud. She dropped back down again to see Sky burying his halberd in the skull of a common creep, the last of the pack that they had encountered.

“Thanks for doing most of the work,” Sky said. “I’m not sure what I’d have done if I’d ended up with a less capable partner than you in Initiation.”

“I’m sure you’d have managed,” Blake said quietly, because it felt like the sort of thing that she ought to say in the circumstances. She switched Gambol Shroud from sword to pistol in her hand, holding it down by her side but ready to raise it at a moment’s notice.

Sky rested his halberd on his shoulder. “I was surprised by what you said to that faunus. I mean, I was surprised that they let people like that into Atlas in the first place.”

It’s probably so they can point to her and the few other faunus they let in through the door and say ‘see, we’re not bigoted towards the faunus at all.’ And then they can go on fighting the White Fang to defend the SDC and the corrupt status quo.

Everyone who had ever been a part of the White Fang knew that the Atlesian military was their true opponent. Better resourced than the Valish Defence Force; less corrupt than the Mistral Police Department; and, it had to be said, ably led by the ruthless General Ironwood, the Atlesian military acted as the enforcers of the Schnee Dust Company, the other half of the unholy alliance that kept the faunus in submission.

The idea that a faunus could willingly serve them…

“Blake?” Sky asked.

“Huh?” Blake murmured. “Sorry, I got lost in thought.”

“I just asked, why did you say that?” Sky asked. “It didn’t seem to do much except make them upset.”

“I know,” Blake said softly. It had been a mistake to be so blunt with them; of course a faunus surrounded by humans would react that way. Rainbow probably felt obliged to act that way or risk punishment. Or perhaps she had been conditioned to believe it.

Blake was reminded of what Sunset had said, about faunus who hung around with exclusively humans and started to believe they were human. More than that, she was reminded of Ilia and her stories about Crystal Prep Combat Academy in Atlas. Her old friend had shared some real stories with Blake about what it was like in ‘the greatest kingdom,’ about the casual cruelty of the humans who studied to become the oppressors of faunus-kind, of the verbal and physical abuse they unleashed to maintain order in their ranks and to keep any openly faunus student in her place.

What must Rainbow Dash have gone through? What might she be going through even now?

From Ilia, Blake’s thoughts turned to Velvet Scarlatina, whom Blake had failed to help when she was obviously in need. It had fallen to Jaune Arc to step up and do the right thing, and he had shamed Blake by his actions. As far as she knew, the plight of the faunus meant nothing to him, and yet, his common decency had driven him to do more than her politics or her… personal interest in this matter.

I can’t just hide in a dark hole and let the injustices of the world go on.

Blake would reach out to her more privately next time. She might not be able to reveal her secret to the Atlesian girl, but she was sure that it would be a comfort to her to know she had a friend at Beacon.

Someone who understood.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Jaune asked as he and Pyrrha headed towards the sound of gunfire, the sharp crack of Sol Invictus and the deeper boom of Crescent Rose mingling as they echoed through the trees.

Pyrrha paused mid-stride, hesitating for a moment. “The gunshots are coming at intervals. They fire and then stop, and then after a little while, they start shooting again. That suggests that grimm are coming to them in staggered groups and that they are fighting them off one at a time.”

“Right, that makes sense,” Jaune said. “Hey, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yes, Jaune?”

“Thanks for giving me a real answer and not fobbing me off with some platitude about how strong Ruby and Sunset are,” Jaune said. “I mean, they are strong, but… you know what I mean?”

Pyrrha nodded, even as she looked apologetic. “Yes, I know what you mean. And I’m sorry. I know that I haven’t always been as helpful a partner as I could have been-”

“That wasn’t what I’ve been trying to say; you’ve been great,” Jaune said. “Not everyone would have supported me even after they found out… you know.” Even now, he remained reluctant to share his secret out loud, even after it had lost the power to hurt him thanks to Sunset. “Not everyone would have given up their time to help me achieve my dream.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I… I prefer not to think of it as a dream; rather… as a goal. Dreams are ephemeral, they crumble into dust when we awake, but your goal has survived contact with adversity, and you’ve shown you’re willing to work towards it, to… to make it your destiny. I… I admire that about you.” She paused. “And yet, I still owe you an apology for slipping too easily into meaningless cliché when we first met. I’m not particularly good at dealing with people.”

“You’ve more than made up for it since,” Jaune assured her. “Hey, Pyrrha? You know, in the Forever Fall, when you stood back and let me take on that beowolf? You said something, I can’t quite remember what it was.”

A flush of colour rose to Pyrrha’s cheeks, even though Jaune wasn’t sure why. “Oh, it was nothing important. Nothing at all, really.”

“Okay,” Jaune said. “This wasn’t what I was about to ask anyway. I was going to ask? Could you stand back again today? At least a little. I know that you said that you need the practice against the grimm, but I’m not so sure, and to be honest, I think I need it more. I need to see how far I’ve come… and how far I have yet to go.”

Pyrrha looked into his eyes. “I understand,” she said, “but you mustn’t expect me to let you fight an entire pack of beowolves by yourself.”

“No,” he agreed, with a slight laugh. He supposed that what kind of enemies she thought it was acceptable to let him face by himself was, in its own way, a sign of his progress.

Pyrrha smiled. “We should probably keep moving,” she said.

“Right,” he said, and indeed, they did keep moving, pushing through the forest towards the sound of the shots from Ruby and Sunset.

Until they heard another noise coming from much closer to home: rustling in the undergrowth, footsteps thumping and heavy breathing.

Pyrrha stepped into a guard, shield held before her and spear drawn back; she also glanced at him to see if he was ready.

Jaune couldn’t have told her because he didn’t know. He just knew that he couldn’t hide behind Pyrrha for four years.

An ursa emerged from out of the trees, some of which it trampled down upon its way. It was not large enough to be an ursa major, or at least Jaune didn’t think it was, but it was nevertheless a pretty decent size.

Pyrrha tensed, but despite that, she did not move. She trembled with suppressed energy, but she did not move.

Not even when the ursa looked at her.

Jaune banged his sword against his shield. “Over here, big guy! I’m your opponent!”

The ursa might or might not have understood him, but it heard the noise and turned to look at him.

It let out a low growl.

I can do this. I can totally do this.

Jaune rushed at the ursa with a roar, shield before him and sword raised. He attacked with his shield first, thrusting out with it to whack the ursa on the snout. It turned its head, growling in pain, and as it turned away, Jaune slashed downwards at its neck. It didn’t quite land; he hadn’t aimed right, and he had slashed at its shoulder instead, but Crocea Mors still cut deep into the monster’s black fur.

The ursa’s growl was louder this time, and it thrust its head forward like a battering ram, hoping to knock Jaune off his feet. Jaune took the blow upon his shield, and his stance was just about right enough that, although he wobbled, he was able to keep his feet.

That didn’t last when the ursa lumbered forwards, using its whole body to knock Jaune back and onto his back. His sword slipped from his fingers.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha cried.

“Wait!” Jaune shouted imploringly. He could do this; she just had to trust him a little bit.

There was no shot from Miló. There was no flash of red as Pyrrha leapt to his rescue. That was a good sign, Jaune figured; it meant that she didn’t think he was dead meat yet.

The ursa stepped on his chest with one paw, crushing his aura a little beneath the pressure, as it moved its bony head towards him, growling.

Jaune hit it with his shield gripped in both hands, swiping it right, then left, then thrusting it straight upwards to hammer the ursa from the sides of the face and on the snout, pounding on it until the snarling ursa reared up on its hind legs to get away from him. Jaune scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword from up off the ground and thrusting it into the ursa’s exposed chest. He twisted the blade, then drew it out, then slashed crosswise. He-

-got hit by a sideswipe from the ursa’s paw that he hadn’t been paying attention to, which knocked him sideways and sent him rolling across the ground.

Jaune rose to his feet with less dignity than Pyrrha would have managed, but he got on his feet regardless. The ursa roared at him, dropping back down onto all fours heavily enough to make the ground shake beneath it. It huffed and puffed.

Jaune waited, expectant.

The ursa charged. Jaune charged to meet it.

The ursa’s mouth was open, and a roar escaped its throat as it lunged at him.

Jaune was nowhere near as light on his feet as Pyrrha; he lacked her grace in movement, but as he thrust out his shield towards the ursa, he was able to sidestep away from its maw, turning the blow away with his shield even as he struck downwards.

And this time, he found the neck.

His sword bit deep but did not sever the ursa’s head. He had to hack at it two more times before the grimm dropped dead.

But it did die. Because he had killed it.

He… he had killed it! He would have whooped, but he was kind of tired.

He looked at Pyrrha, about to thank her for standing aside, when he saw her relax visibly now that the fight was over and he was out of danger.

She hadn’t been certain, he realised; she hadn’t been sure that he could do it.

But she had let him try anyway, because… because she understood that he needed to try.

I really did get lucky with you as my partner. Somehow, he doubted that Sunset would have been as understanding. He wasn’t even certain Ruby would have been.

Of course, he’d know that he was making real progress when Pyrrha could stand back and let him fight without flinching.

And he’d get there, some day.

Return to Vale (New)

Return to Vale

Team SAPR arrived at the skydock first and were waiting for the hourly skybus into Vale when Team RSPT arrived to join them.

“I’m sorry if we kept you waiting,” Penny said. “Twilight had to check her checklist three times!”

“Organisation is very important, Penny,” Twilight informed her.

“There’s no need to apologise,” Pyrrha said. “If anything, we were here early; the skybus isn’t due for a little while longer.”

“Oh, Jaune,” Twilight said. “I, um, I spoke to your sister Aoko, and I mentioned that I’d seen you. It was… a little weird.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed a little. “What did she say?”

“Um… that she’s still waiting for those snacks.”

Jaune rolled his eyes. “That doesn't surprise me.”

Sunset frowned at the guns strapped to Rainbow’s hips. “Are you bringing your weapons?”

“It’s not Atlas, of course, I’m bringing my weapons,” Rainbow said, managing to make Sunset sound like the idiot for not bringing her weapons. “You should be glad I didn’t bring my Unfailing Loyalty.”

Sunset frowned. “Is that the shotgun or the wings?”

“Unfailing Loyalty is the shotgun,” Rainbow said, with a touch of exasperation. “The wings are called Wings of Harmony.”

“Well, excuse me for not having the names of every weapon in your excessive loadout memorised,” Sunset replied.

Rainbow grinned. “You can laugh, but when you’ve used up those six lousy shots in that gun of yours, I’ll still have rounds to spare.”

“Were those all of your weapons that you were wearing yesterday?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Why?”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have a close quarters option,” Pyrrha said.

Rainbow held up her fists. “I got two close quarters options right here, Pyrrha.”

“Oh, you’re another true hand to hand fighter,” Pyrrha declared. “You must be quite skilled in manipulating your aura.”

Rainbow raised one eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

“I presumed that you must use it to increase the potency of your strikes,” Pyrrha replied. “Do you have some sort of burst or shock attack in which you direct your aura outwards and then expend it to create effects?”

Rainbow chuckled. “Come on, Pyrrha, you can’t expect me to give away all my secrets.”

Pyrrha laughed too. “Of course not, but equally, you can’t deny me my observations.”

“How many hand to hand fighters do you know, Pyrrha?” Penny asked. “From my study of your matches, I can only think of Arslan Altan.”

“She is the only such competing at the highest level,” Pyrrha agreed. “It’s a rather difficult discipline to master; as I was saying to Rainbow Dash, it requires an extraordinary degree of aura control. Not everyone has the patience for it.”

“That is not the actual reason why very few people practice it,” Sunset argued. “The real reason is that it’s a stupid way to fight. Why rely on your fists when you could have a weapon?”

“Yang fights with her fists,” Ruby pointed out.

“Your sister has rocket shotguns strapped to her arms, that… that only half counts, at best. In fact, I’d say it counts about a third, maybe.”

“I guess you’ve got a point,” Ruby admitted, “and about the aura control too. Yang and I never really learnt much more than we needed to control our semblances. Learning to use Crescent Rose took up most of my time with Uncle Qrow.”

“Hey,” Sunset said. “At some point, you and Rainbow Dash should have a race. See which of your speed semblances is quicker.”

Rainbow folded her arms with a very smug look on her face. “Setting your own teammate up to fail and succumb to disappointment. That’s cold, Sunset, even for you.”

Sunset’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Or maybe I just want to wipe that cocky look off your face, Dash.” She leaned on the top of Ruby’s head with one elbow. “Our Ruby has quite the turn of speed.”

Rainbow continued to look supremely confident. “No offence, Ruby, I’m sure you’re fast, but you’re not Rainbow Dash fast.”

“Oh, really?” Jaune declared. “Well maybe we should put that to the test.” He hesitated. “I mean, if you’re okay with that, Ruby?”

“Uh, sure,” Ruby said. “I mean, it’s all in good fun, right?”

“Yes, Ruby, it’s all in good fun,” Sunset agreed. “But for the honour of Team Sapphire, you’d better win.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully.

Ciel sighed. “You are such children, arguing over who is the fastest.” She paused. “That being said, if you intend to engage in this contest, then the pride of Atlas demands no less than victory.”

Twilight rolled her eyes.

“So, Penny,” Pyrrha said, “do you follow the Mistralian tournament circuit? I can’t imagine that’s particularly common in Atlas.”

“Actually,” Ciel began, “it is more common than-“

“Oh, no,” Penny said. “My father and Mister Ironwood had me watch lots of fights by great fighters so I could build up an understanding of combat.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said, sounding slightly surprised. “I… see.”

Rainbow Dash was looking very uncomfortable about something. “Penny-”

“I have to say,” Pyrrha continued, not realising that Rainbow had spoken, “without intending any disrespect to your father or… Mister Ironwood.”

“General Ironwood,” Ciel corrected, as if automatically.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “I’m not sure that’s the best way to train to fight. After a certain point, all you’ll be learning is how a certain number of fighters, well, fight. The reason why we train instead of simply studying is so that we can develop our own styles.”

“Really?” Penny asked, leaning forward. “Wait, does that mean that I’ve wasted my time?”

“Not necessarily,” Pyrrha allowed. “There are some on the tournament circuit who believe in obsessively studying their opponents’ previous matches so they can learn their movements; do you know Kurt the White Wolf?”

“I’ve only seen her fight you, and it wasn’t that impressive,” Penny said. “You beat her easily.”

“It… was not my most difficult fight,” Pyrrha acknowledged, “but that doesn’t wholly invalidate the method.”

“But it’s not what you do?”

“No, I prefer to hone my skills in general; I think it makes them more applicable to the circumstances.”

“So I should be doing that too?”

“We will not be throwing out your existing training programme upon the word of Pyrrha Nikos,” Ciel said firmly. “No offence, Miss Nikos, but Penny’s training regimen has been set by some of the top minds of Atlas.”

“It wasn’t my intent to interfere. I was only offering some advice,” Pyrrha said, her voice devoid of offence. “Although, I find myself forced to ask, has your father any combat experience, Penny?”

“No, he’s a scientist.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Let me guess,” Sunset said, “your father is a well-connected scientist who decided to indulge his daughter’s desire to become a huntress and pulled strings to get you on a team led by General Ironwood’s attack dog so that you’d be safe long enough for you to realise that this isn’t really what you want to do with your life?”

“I-”

“That will do, Penny,” Ciel said calmly. “There is no need to answer such speculation.”

“Also… attack dog?” Rainbow repeated.

“Would you rather I called you an attack horse?” Sunset replied.

“You know General Ironwood?” Ruby inquired.

Rainbow preened. “I don’t like to brag-”

Sunset snorted.

“-but I’m kind of his protégé,” Rainbow continued as though Sunset hadn’t interrupted.

“And his babysitter, now,” Sunset said. “And can I ask what was up with the way you were talking to Weiss at breakfast yesterday? No problem, Miss Schnee; anything I can do to help, Miss Schnee. And after she insulted you worse than Blake.”

“She didn’t insult me worse than Blake; she just made a mistake.”

“She thought you couldn’t be the leader of your team because you were faunus.”

“Or because Ciel greeted her first,” Twilight murmured.

“Well, I am the leader of my team, and you know what else I am?” Rainbow demanded. “Somebody who wants to get on in the military, and I’m not going to do that if Jacques Schnee asks General Ironwood to kick me out of the Academy because I made his little girl cry.”

“I thought you and General Ironwood were so tight that he wouldn’t do that to his protégé.”

“No, he wouldn’t, but nobody will want me in their unit when I graduate if the SDC has it out for me,” Rainbow replied.

“Anyway,” Jaune said loudly, “what are you guys hoping to get to in Vale?” His voice lowered. “Assuming we don’t kill each other waiting for this bus.”

“We have a list,” Ciel said, producing said list from the blue purse worn over her shoulder – and which was open just long enough for Sunset to see she had a pistol in it. “We require books, stationary, ammunition for small arms and heavy weapons-“

“'Heavy weapons'?” Ruby repeated. “Which one of you uses a heavy weapon and what is it?”

“That would be me,” Ciel answered. “I fight with an eighty caliber armour-piercing rifle.”

“Eighty caliber!” Ruby gasped. “That must be even bigger than Crescent Rose!”

“Not having seen Crescent Rose, I cannot confirm,” Ciel replied. “Distant Thunder is, however, a substantially-sized weapon.”

“I can imagine,” Ruby said. “I’d love to see it, can I see it? Can you penetrate a deathstalker’s armour with a single shot? Can you bring down a goliath? What do you do when the enemy closes the range; does it turn into anything?”

“I see no harm in showing you,” Ciel said. “In theory, yes, but it would depend upon the size of the deathstalker; likewise for the goliath. At close range, I have a short sword, although I must confess that I am only an indifferent swordsman. No, Distant Thunder does not turn into anything, although it is collapsible. And please remember to breathe.”

Ruby giggled and snorted at the same time. “Sorry, I like meeting new weapons. Especially unique ones. Speaking of which, did you say you have wings, Rainbow Dash? As in, you can fly?”

“Yep,” Rainbow said proudly.

“That is so cool,” Ruby declared. “Did you make them yourself?”

“No, I could never do anything like that,” Rainbow said. “Twilight made them for me.”

“So cool!” Ruby cried. “And what about you, Penny, what weapon do you use?”

“Floating Array is a backpack containing a dozen swords on a wire guidance system,” Penny announced mechanically. “The swords also reconfigure as laser carbines.”

“So cool!” Ruby squealed.

“Ciel, why don’t you finish off that list?” Rainbow suggested.

“Dust is our only other essential,” Ciel announced. “However, we would be much obliged if we could also visit a hobby shop and a grocer's for our kitchenette.”

“Yeah, we went shopping for kitchen supplies our first trip into Vale,” Jaune informed them. “And I’m sure we can find a hobby shop too, although do you mind me asking why?”

“I make models,” Ciel explained.

“Oh,” Jaune said. “Cool.”

The skybus arrived not long after, and they – the only students taking the bus at this hour – climbed aboard and took their red, comfortable seats on the airship as it lifted off the dock and glided over Vale.

The seats on the bus were arranged in rows of four, and Penny nabbed the seat between Ruby and Pyrrha, which – with Jaune sitting next to Pyrrha – left Sunset without much choice but to sit next to the rest of Team RSPT. She could have sat on her own, but that would have said more about her than about RSPT, and she wasn't about to give Rainbow and Twilight the satisfaction of making her act like a despised outcast. So she sat down at the end of the row, with Rainbow sitting on her left, and ignored all three of them.

Or at least she tried to.

"Sunset?" Twilight asked, in a quiet, almost tremulous voice.

Sunset's ears twitched in irritation as she glanced past Rainbow Dash to look at Twilight. "Yes?"

Twilight recoiled ever so slightly into her seat. "I just, uh… how are things between you and Flash these days?"

Sunset came very close to baring her teeth. "How do you think?"

"Oh," Twilight said. "It's just that… you seem to be doing a little better now, and I thought that maybe you two had… you know."

"I'm doing a little better?" Sunset repeated. "I'm a better person now." She paused daring Rainbow Dash to contradict her. "That doesn't mean that he is."

Twilight winced. "Flash… you know that there was never anything between us, right?"

Sunset's glance flickered between Twilight and Rainbow Dash. Truth to tell, she had sometimes suspected that there might be something between those two, if only Twilight wasn't too, well, Twilight to do anything about it. "Maybe not," she replied. "But I remember whose side you were on."

It was a relief when the skybus docked outside Winchester Park and Sunset was able to get off and put some distance between herself and the Rosepetals by standing on the other side of her own team.

"So," Ruby said, as they left the skydock, Vale's skyline with its mixture of the antique and the hypermodern rising around them, "what do you guys want to see first?"

"Everything!" Penny declared.

Pyrrha chuckled. "That might be a little much for one day."

"We should attend to our necessities," Ciel said, "and then we will know how much time we have left over."

"That sounds fine, but why don't we get a cup of tea, first?" Pyrrha suggested. "Before we start walking up and down these streets."

Ciel checked her watch, but Rainbow answered before she could. "Yeah, that sounds fine. You guys know a good place?"

"Not exactly, but it shouldn't be hard to find somewhere," Ruby said. "There are tons of coffee places."

Indeed, as they ventured forth in search of refreshment, they saw no less than three coffee shops – all of them branches of the same chain, no less – on one street. It was a wonder that they all stayed open, and yet, all three of them seemed to be doing pretty good business, so clearly, the demand was there. They looked a little crowded to be sure of getting a table for eight, however, and so the search continued.

A large screen, elevated above the shops, ceased showing advertisements for the latest model scroll and started broadcasting a news bulletin.

"Good morning, Vale. I'm Lisa Lavender here with a news update," Lisa Lavender declared from out of the elevated screen. "Another dust shop was robbed last night after the premises had closed. The owner of The Dust Bucket discovered that the windows had been smashed when he went to open the store the next morning. The police would not confirm what was stolen but said no one was injured. The authorities are currently appealing for anyone who may have witnessed the robbery to please come forward. This marks the ninth robbery of a dust shop in just over a month since an attempted heist was foiled by a pair of concerned citizens."

Sunset grinned down at Ruby and gave her a brief squeeze on the shoulder as the younger, smaller girl smiled back at her.

Lisa Lavender continued, "First Councillor Novo Aris dismissed the idea that this was a crime wave, insisting that it was too early to speculate on whether a single criminal actor was responsible for crimes across the city of Vale and maintained that district aldermen and the VPD had adequate resources to keep their streets and communities safe. However, both opposition parties criticised the current Council for its stance on law and order."

"See?" Ruby demanded. "This is why we need to do something!"

"You heard what the First Councillor said, the VPD have adequate resources to handle this," Sunset replied.

"But they're not handling it!" Ruby retorted. "Novo is abandoning this city just like she abandoned the villages."

"What are you talking about?" Penny asked.

Sunset sighed. "Ruby wants to be a hero and stop the dust shop robberies."

"Don't say it like that," Ruby protested. "I don't want to do it for me or so that I can get on the news or something."

That would be the best reason to do it, Sunset thought. "No, you're right, your motives are… nobler than that." She paused for a moment. "You're still wrong, though."

"But we almost caught Torchwick the first time!" Ruby insisted. "With Jaune and Pyrrha too, I'm sure we'd get him."

Penny's face lit up. "Rainbow Dash, perhaps we could-"

"No," Ciel said, cutting her off. "We have no legal authority in the city, Penny, and neither your father nor General Ironwood would approve of you being put into live combat at this point. This is an internal Valish matter; even if Atlesian assistance were requested, it would be rendered by the proper authorities."

"So we should let our friends fight alone?" Penny said.

"Don't worry, Penny, your friends won't be fighting anyone," Sunset informed her.

"Why are you so against this?" Ruby demanded.

"Because we could get killed, or worse, expelled," Sunset replied.

"Or someone else could get hurt because we said it wasn't our problem," Ruby said.

"You put us all to shame with your courage and the nobility of your heart," Pyrrha said, "and if it were merely a case of opposing a villain, I would stand beside you without hesitation. But I fear it is not that simple. If these crimes are the work of a single mastermind, this Roman Torchwick whom you fought, or else an employer of his, then the fact that the police in so many districts have failed to apprehend him may be more than mere luck or skill on the part of these criminals. He may be buying the police."

"Buying them?" Ruby repeated. "Like, to let him get away with it? But… but they're the cops; they're sworn to uphold the law!"

Pyrrha sighed, and Sunset was sure that Pyrrha must be feeling – as Sunset was feeling – the weight of the reminder that Ruby, for all her skill, was still in some ways a child, with some traces of a child's naivete left. Pyrrha knelt down and put one hand upon Ruby's shoulder. "I do not know how it is in Vale, but in Mistral, alas, such things are far from uncommon. Not too many years ago, Lord Rutulus, the Commissioner of Police, the highest officer of the law in Mistral, was murdered by one of his own officers; it was widely thought that said officer had been paid by one of the criminal cartels."

"'Thought'?" Sunset said. "Didn't they catch the guy? Or were more crooked cops paid to let him get away."

"Perhaps they were, but he did not escape," Pyrrha replied. "The late commissioner's ward hunted down his killer, and many other men she must have at least suspected of having a hand in the murder. She killed them all. It was her duty to avenge a man who had been a father to her, and no charges were ever brought, but it meant he was not able to answer questions." Pyrrha fell silent for a moment. "The point is, I fear that if we took this step, we would be entering into a murky world for which our martial training has ill-prepared us." She paused again. "Nobody wants to see you shot in the back by someone you thought you could trust."

Twilight said, "There's a reason why police training, even elite police units where the members have their auras activated, go through quite different training to that of a huntsman. It's a very different set of skills, both to help you survive in a quite different world than the one that huntsmen are expected to inhabit and to help you investigate crimes and make criminal cases rather than just fight monsters or stop bad guys."

Ruby sighed disconsolately. “I just wish… I feel like we ought to be doing more to help.”

“And we will help, plenty, once we graduate,” Jaune said. “This… this stuff is for people who’ve completed their training.”

Rainbow frowned. It looked as though she might agree with Ruby, but fortunately, she recognised Sunset’s rights as team leader and said nothing.

They resumed their search for a café, stopping at a place called Alexandria Coffee. It had an old world feel to it, with heavy wooden countertops on which the cakes and pastries sat exposed to the air, a blackboard with the prices of drinks written in chalk upon it, and an incongruous-looking wooden puppet in the window. Inside, there were plenty of empty tables, but as the young huntsmen entered, Sunset was surprised to find that one of the tables was being occupied by Cardin Winchester.

Cardin Winchester accompanied by a girl his own age – or thereabouts - and two younger bird faunus with white wings emerging out of their backs.

The girl was pretty, some might have said even more than pretty, with sea-green hair cut to shoulder length down the side on which it fell across her face, while on the other side, it was brushed back behind her ear and fell down her shoulder and back almost to the waist. Her eyes were as blue as oceans, and a pink rose was woven into the hair just above her ear. She wore a gown of flowing turquoise, and a necklace of large pearls seemed tight around her neck.

Of the two faunus, one was a girl who looked a little younger than Ruby, and the other a boy yet younger still. The girl's hair was blue, mostly so pale that it verged on white, but intermittently streaked a little darker. It was arranged so that it formed a sort of crest in the centre of her head, leaving the left of her head and face bare, while it fell all down the right-hand side of her face and body. Her eyes were violet, and she wore a pink top with a Schnee snowflake picked out in silver upon it and a pair of dark blue jeans, while a purple gem of some description, an amethyst maybe, dangled from a string around her neck.

The boy was wearing a matching necklace. His hair and eyes alike were turquoise, and in the case of his hair cut short, if unevenly so. He was wearing a plain white shirt and dark grey pants.

"-can't believe you're on the same team as Weiss Schnee!" the faunus girl was saying as Sunset, her team, and RSPT walked into the coffee shop. The boy looked faintly bored, while the older girl was staring at Cardin in the way that Sunset imagined that it might have looked when she had had just stared at Flash sometimes, in the good days before things went wrong and she had just wanted to remind herself that, yeah, this guy was hers and he was great.

"I mean Weiss Schnee!" the faunus girl continued squealing. "Does she ever sing for you? What's she like? Is she as great as she seems? Oh, what am I saying, of course she is. Could you get me some of her hair? Actually, forget that last one, it's creepy."

"Yeah, yeah, enough about that," the boy said. "Tell us about all the monsters you've killed."

Cardin smiled proudly. "Well, only yesterday, I-"

"Cardin!" Jaune exclaimed as he followed Sunset through the door.

The smile fell off Cardin's face, which paled visibly. He stared at the newcomers to the coffee shop, his blue eyes widening. "Jaune!" he yelped. "Sunset!"

The girl in the turquoise dress, the one who had been staring at Cardin, rose quickly to her feet as she gasped in surprise. "Sunset?" she said, as she crossed the shop towards the two teams, and towards Sunset in particular. "Are you Sunset Shimmer?"

I would have thought I knew what he'd been saying about me, but now I'm not so sure. "Uh, yes, why-" The words were knocked out of Sunset as the girl threw her arms around Sunset, enveloping her in a soft embrace.

"Thank you," she cried, holding Sunset close. "Thank you for saving Cardy's life. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to him."

Did we just walk through a hidden portal into yet another dimension when I wasn't looking? Are we in opposite Remnant where Cardin is a stand-up guy? She glanced at her teammates for help; they all seemed just as lost as Sunset felt.

"You're… welcome?" Sunset ventured. "I mean, um," - she cleared her throat - "just another day in the life of a huntress in training."

The other girl released Sunset and stepped back. "Spoken with the modesty of a true hero," she said. "You're all so brave. I asked Cardy not to go to that school because I worry so much about him, but of course he's noble that he can't stay away. I don't know how you all do it, risking your lives against all those horrible monsters. I can't even imagine it."

"It isn't always easy," Ruby said, "but someone has to keep the world safe, and since we can do it, we owe it to the world to try."

The girl's blue eyes widened as she looked at Ruby. "You're so young," she gasped. She shook her head. "Excuse me, where are my manners? I'm Skystar Aris, and these are my cousins Silverstream and Terramar; it's an honour to meet all of you."

"Ruby Rose, it's nice to meet you."

"Pyrrha Nikos, the honour is ours."

"Jaune Arc," Jaune murmured, still sounding surprised by all this.

"I'm Twilight Sparkle; it's a pleasure."

"Ciel Soleil at your service, Miss Aris."

"I'm Rainbow Dash."

"And I'm Penny Polendina! Salutations!"

Skystar chuckled. "So are you all Beacon students like Cardy?"

"They are," Rainbow said, gesturing to the four sapphires. "My team are from Atlas; we're here for the Vytal Festival."

Skystar's eyes widened. "The Atlas students have arrived already? Why didn't anyone tell me you'd be getting here so early? I haven't even started planning the reception yet!"

"We're actually here very early, so there's no need to worry," Twilight said quickly. "Although, what was that about a party?"

"Oh, mother asked me, well, she kind of appointed me, but I was happy to do it, to be the Amity Princess of this year's Vytal Festival. I get to organise the parades and the dances and be the public face of Vale welcoming all our foreign visitors, so if you need anything, just let me know."

"Your mother," Sunset repeated. "Wait, Aris? Are you the First Councillor's daughter?"

"Well, yes," Skystar admitted. "But please, there's no need to make a big deal out of it." Skystar gasped. "Were you about to come in here? You should come and sit with us! Wouldn't that be fun, Cardy?"

Cardin had been catatonic with shock during the conversation, but now, he appeared to stir back to something approaching life once more. "Uh, I mean, uh, well… Sunset? Can I talk to you for a second? Outside?"

Sunset grinned. Oh, I'm going to enjoy this. "Sure you can, Cardy. Skystar, don't mind us; we'll be right back."

"Oh, of course," Skystar said, beaming brightly. "Have fun, Cardy."

"Sure," Cardin muttered, in the tone of a man going to his execution. As Skystar ushered the rest of the two teams to tables nearby – where they claimed their seats before heading up to the counter to get their drinks – Cardin made his way towards Sunset.

"Oh, Cardy?" Skystar said, in a sing-song voice.

Cardin turned towards her. "Yes, Sky?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Skystar asked, making her mouth seem very small for a moment.

Cardin hesitated for a moment, his bull neck turning red, before he took Skystar's face in his hands and kissed her. "Goodbye, for now."

"I miss you already," Skystar said.

"I miss you more," Cardin replied, as he and Sunset left the Alexandria and moved down the street so they were out of sight of the shop windows.

"So," Sunset said, as the door swung shut behind them. "What's up, Cardy?"

"Shut up," Cardin growled. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not following you, if that's what you're worried about," Sunset replied. "You're not that important to me." She put her hands on her hips. "Skystar seems nice. I take it your parents arranged that with her mother."

"What, because I wouldn't have a shot on my own?"

"Well, you are kind of an ass," Sunset pointed out. "And can I ask: are you actually a racist, or do you just not like me?"

Cardin scowled. "You heard Skystar; they're her cousins," he explained. "Their mother is Skystar's aunt; she married a faunus, and those two kids are the result."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to pull their wings off yet," Sunset observed.

"I wouldn't do that!" Cardin protested. "Skystar loves her cousins."

"And she has no idea who you really are, does she?"

Cardin's face turned purple. "Skystar knows exactly who I am."

"Oh, so the person I know from Beacon who bullies and abuses faunus, that's not the real you?" Sunset demanded. "You just pretend to be a bigoted jackass because it's funny? I'm guessing your girlfriend wouldn't see the amusing side." She took a step closer to Cardin. "I have to admit, I'm kind of impressed. I wouldn't have expected you to be able to hide your contempt."

"Silverstream and Terramar aren't like other faunus," Cardin protested.

"That's because you haven't taken the time to get to know any other faunus," Sunset snapped at him. "Of course they don't act like animals, because we're not animals. I should walk in there and tell the three of them just who and what you really are. See how interested Terramar is in hearing about your made-up exploits then."

Cardin swallowed. "You- you've got no proof."

"I can be pretty persuasive."

"No, you can't!" Cardin yelped. "Please, Sunset, you… you can't. Skystar… there's no way she'd choose me over her family. You can't tell."

"I should," Sunset said. "I think Skystar deserves to know that her prince charming is nothing but a bully."

"Please!" Cardin implored her. "Sunset, I'm begging you, I'll do anything!"

Sunset smiled wickedly. "Well, isn't this familiar?" she said. "I seem to recall that it wasn't too long ago that you had Jaune over a barrel because of a secret of his, or at least, you thought you did. Do you remember that, Cardy? Do you remember all the ways you took advantage of Jaune because you thought you had the right to play with my toys?"

Cardin swallowed again. His eyes were wide with panic. "I-I remember."

"Fortunately, I've become a little nicer since then," Sunset said. "Plus, I'm also smarter than you, so I don't need you to do my homework for me or anything like that. All I'm going to ask in return for your secret is that you be nice. That might be difficult for you, but I don't care. The moment I see you reverting back to type is the moment I'll get proof of it and see that proof gets back to the Amity Princess in there. So be nice and remember: I’m just like you, and you’re just like me. Understand?"

Cardin nodded silently.

"Good boy," Sunset said. "Now, we should probably get back inside before Skystar starts to get ideas."

They went back in to find Twilight embroiled in an argument with Silverstream about whether Weiss Schnee's music was starting to sound overproduced.

"Listen to her early work, listen to 'Wings,'" Twilight insisted. "Watch some of her live performances where she's only being accompanied by a piano. There's a clarity to her voice, a purity of intent that's being drowned out by all the rock stylings that her record label is forcing her to incorporate."

"It's not the studio; it's the evolution of her style," Silverstream replied. "She's moving into a different genre, and it bangs! How can you not like 'This Will Be the Day'?"

"I don't dislike it," Twilight said. "I just think that Weiss' lyrics are clever and inventive and deserve to be appreciated as such without being drowned out by heavy drumbeats and guitar riffs."

Sunset let the discussion roll over her, feeling ever so slightly smug in the knowledge that whatever else happened, she had already done a good day's work.

Rosepetals at Beacon (New)

Rosepetals at Beacon

“Good morning, students!” Professor Port boomed jovially as the first years took their seats in the lecture hall. “And a warm welcome to Grimm Studies for our Atlesian guests!”

The four members of Team RSPT came to attention, or tried to in Twilight’s case, on their way some seats above Team SAPR in the lecture theatre.

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow replied.

“Tell me, how is my old friend Major Kai these days?” Professor Port asked. “Does he still have the old trouble when the wind blows easterly?”

“Yes, sir.”

Professor Port groaned. “Poor fellow. I shall send him some of that Valish brandy he liked so much to keep him warm at nights.”

“I’m sure he will appreciate your generosity, sir,” Ciel said.

“Least I can do for an excellent fellow; why he ran me a close race during the one on one rounds in the Vytal Festival… but perhaps that is a story better suited for another time. Now, let me see if I have your names right: Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow Dash replied.

“Excellent, excellent. Take your seats. As I was saying: good morning students and welcome back to another week here at Beacon. I’m sure you’re all eager to receive the results of your practical tests from Saturday: the good news is that every student here passed!”

A mixture of sighs of relief and muffled exclamations of pride and pleasure rippled through the hall. Sunset, who had never had any doubts that they were going to make it, said nothing, but Jaune was one of those who looked infinitely relieved.

“That said,” Professor Port continued, “not all of you did equally well.” He gestured to the large stack of papers on his desk. “I have here your written essays and my observations on your practicals. Will all team leaders please come to my desk and collect your papers?”

Team SAPR sat at the front of the lecture hall, which meant that Sunset was able to reach Professor Port’s desk ahead of anyone else and start searching for SAPR’s results. Team BLBLs were at the top, and Sunset couldn’t help but notice that they had scored a C plus, although there wasn’t time to notice anything else without looking like she was prying into another team’s affairs. Sunset set the BLBL results aside, to find YRDN’s papers next in the pile which she handed to Yang, who was standing behind her waiting her turn.

“A minus!” Yang exclaimed. “Professor, what’s the minus for?”

“Miss Valkyrie let those sulphur fish get far too close,” Professor Port exclaimed. “Why, if it hadn’t been for Mister Ren, she could have been in serious trouble.”

Nora laughed nervously. “But they looked so cute,” she explained. Ren sighed long-sufferingly.

Sunset moved the Team WWSR – who had gotten a flat B – to one side, to find the Team SAPR paper underneath.

She picked it up, staring at the grade written on the first page. “Professor,” she said, “this says a B plus.”

“Yes, Miss Shimmer; considering Mister Arc’s performance, I’m afraid I couldn’t grade you any higher. Mister Arc, you still have a lot of room for improvement.”

“Yes, Professor,” Jaune said. “I’m well aware.”

Sunset pursed her lips and tried not to scowl as she made her way back to her seat. Jaune recoiled from her a little.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“It’s fine,” Sunset sighed. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying. She could yell at him some more, but it wouldn’t make him work harder; it would just cause trouble. She wasn’t happy about it, but it was what it was… unfortunately.

Maybe there’s a spell to help him improve faster.

There probably is… but it would probably turn him evil or crazy or something. There’s always a catch with these things.

“I expect you all to study the notes I’ve supplied in your own time,” Professor Port said. “But now: a story. Twenty years ago, I was hunting dromedons on the outskirts of the western desert, when I…”

Sunset began taking notes. She wasn’t surprised to see that most of the class were more interested in studying the results of their quarter-terms, but, well, if they ever came face to face with a dromedon, wouldn’t they be sorry?

The sound of pens scratching on paper above made Sunset’s ears twitch. She risked a glance upwards – fortunately, Professor Port tended to get a bit too caught up in his own stories to pay much attention to whether the students were paying attention – to look at the row above where Team RSPT were sitting. Rainbow Dash looked half-asleep, but both Ciel and Twilight looked to be taking copious notes. Penny looked unsure of what she was supposed to be doing.

As Sunset watched, Twilight stopped. She raised her hand. “Um, Professor Port?”

Professor Port stopped, appearing surprised to have been interrupted. “Uh, yes, Miss Sparkle?”

“Could you repeat that last part, please, sir? I didn’t quite catch it for my notes.”

“Of course, child,” Professor Port said warmly. “I was saying that these particular dromedons, being old and wise, knew to stake out the watering hole and wait for travellers to be drawn to it.”

“Right, thank you, sir,” Twilight said, scribbling that last part down.

“Not at all, Miss Sparkle, not at all. Now, as I was saying: Prabakhara was a pukka fellow in many ways, but not particularly observant, and he went to the watering hole without detecting the presence of the grimm nearby. Of course, he had left his rifle back at camp, and so, I was woken by the most dreadful scream as he came running with the dromedons in hot pursuit. Several of my gun bearers quaked in fear, but I was not perturbed…”

“Ciel,” Rainbow whispered, “are you writing down every single word?”

“Yes,” Ciel hissed.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t tell what’s important.”

Penny leaned down over the desk. “Ruby? Pyrrha? I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand, Penny?” Ruby asked.

“What is Professor Port trying to tell us?”

“Nobody knows the answer to that, Penny,” Ruby replied.

“Shhh!” went Sunset and Twilight, at the exact same time. The two of them looked at one another, and then looked away, in silent mutual agreement never to mention it.

Professor Port's class finished after an hour, and the first year students and their Atlesian guests proceeded to Modern History, where it was the turn of Doctor Oobleck to welcome the new Atlesian students.

"Remember!" he said. "Not much more than eighty years ago, it would have seemed incredible that four representatives of the Kingdom of Atlas should sit in a classroom in the Kingdom of Vale, proudly wearing their Atlesian uniforms. And not just because there wasn't a Kingdom of Atlas at the time! It may seem commonplace to you, who sit in teams drawn from across the kingdoms, but I want you all to bear in mind that in historical terms this state of affairs is nothing short of a miracle! Treasure it and treat it with the appropriate degree of care." Doctor Oobleck paused only for long enough to sip some of his coffee. "Now, let me just hand back your quarter term papers." Doctor Oobleck began to zip around the room, handing out the quarter term papers. "Excellent work as always, Miss Schnee. Miss Valkyrie, your essays are always entertaining, but please try and cultivate a more academic style of prose in future. Miss Heartstrings, I'm afraid this paper is simply not up to scratch. I must ask you to come in for a detention on Friday afternoon to retake it, along with Miss Belladonna."

"And that is why I made you come and study every night," Sunset declared.

"So that we wouldn't fail the paper or so you wouldn't get in trouble for us failing?" Jaune asked.

"Both, obviously," Sunset replied.

"That being said," Doctor Oobleck continued. "Team Sapphire!" he suddenly appeared in front of them. "I take it that you and Miss Belladonna worked on your papers together."

"We had a study session in the library with her, Doctor, but nobody copied anybody else's work if that's what you're implying," Sunset said. It would be the worst luck in the world to get accused of copying now, after four weeks of writing Jaune's essays for him with nobody noticing.

"Fear not, Miss Shimmer; I'm not accusing your team of anything," Doctor Oobleck assured her. "In fact, I commend each and every one of you for an innovative approach to the question on the Faunus Rights Revolution. That being said," he added, as he rapidly handed back their papers, "Mister Arc, Miss Rose, I can't help but feel you overreached yourselves in the attempt; you evinced a lack of grasp on the factual detail and might have been better served with a more basic approach grounded in the content of these lessons. Miss Shimmer, I applaud your ambition, but a team leader must be aware of the limitations of her teammates as well as their strengths."

Sunset bowed her head. "Yes sir."

"And Miss Belladonna, your efforts might have been better served assisting your own team, rather than Team Sapphire."

"Yes, Doctor," Blake murmured.

Ruby started to say something but was silenced by a nudge from Sunset.

"But it wasn't Blake's fault," Ruby protested, as Doctor Oobleck turned away. "Her team ditched her."

"So? It's still her fault," Sunset replied, in a low voice. "Do you think I would have let you go to the movies?"

"You let us go to the arcade," Ruby pointed out.

"After you'd done your essay," Sunset reminded her.

"With that out of the way," Doctor Oobleck said, returning to the front of the lecture theatre. "Actually, one last note, Team Rosepetal, I don't know how far you got in the curriculum before arriving from Atlas, but any gaps in your learning, I will expect you to catch up on your own; the class cannot wait for you."

"We understand, sir," Rainbow said.

"Good, good," Doctor Oobleck replied. "In any case, let us continue. When last we left off, the faunus had just defeated General Lagune's forces at the Battle of Fort Castle, what would prove to be the final battle of the war. General Lagune was captured, and the majority of his forces were killed. Who can tell me what happened next?"

To the raised hands of Sunset, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Sky were added those of Twilight and Ciel.

Doctor Oobleck appeared to ponder for a moment, before deciding to call upon one of the new girls. "Miss Sparkle?"

"A dispute arose in the faunus camp between those who wished to march on Mistral and sack the city and those who believed that the human kingdoms would now surely negotiate peace terms," Twilight said.

"Indeed, Miss Sparklee," Doctor Oobleck said. "Unfortunately, history shows that the conflict between those who wish to seek reconciliation with humanity and those who seek vengeance upon it has continued to divide the faunus from that day to this. One might even go further and say that the arguments that erupted in the faunus camp that night prefigured those which led to the transformation of the White Fang. As you all know, the city of Mistral was not put to the sword; Ares Claudandus elected to send General Lagune back to Mistral to deliver his peace terms. What happened next?"

Ciel, Sunset, Pyrrha, and Weiss raised their hands.

"Miss Nikos."

"General Lagune returned to Mistral to find it in a state of panic, desperately preparing to withstand a siege," Pyrrha replied. "The general himself… betrayed his faunus captors and his solemn word and advised the people to continue the war. However… he was overruled and outvoted, and envoys were sent back to the faunus camp to negotiate an armistice, until a formal treaty with all four kingdoms could be negotiated."

Sunset could not help but note that Pyrrha had omitted the role played by her own great-great-grandfather in those events. When General Lagune had addressed the people on the subject of resistance to the knife, it had been Prometheus Nikos who had bodily hurled him from the rostrum and then – after apologising for his lack of political decorum, having not yet become wholly used to popular government – urged the people to seek peace while there was still a chance to do so.

I suppose she doesn't want even more people to connect the surnames.

"Correct, Miss Nikos, and I think it is fair to say that that was a decision both correct and humane on the part of Mistral," Doctor Oobleck said. "The consequences of yet more war scarcely bear thinking about. An armistice was agreed, and subsequently, representatives of the four kingdoms met with High Leader Claudandus to negotiate the Fair and Equal Accords. Who can name one of the key articles of the accords?"

It was fair to say that Doctor Oobleck did not get a huge number of volunteers to answer the questions that he threw out to the class; as a rule, it was only Sunset, Pyrrha, Weiss, and sometimes Sky Lark who would raise their hand to invite the doctor's attention. Which wasn't to say that everyone in the class was ignorant; Sunset was convinced after their little study session that Blake knew a lot of this stuff but simply didn't wish to draw attention to herself by speaking up in class. In any case, it swiftly became clear that neither Twilight or Ciel had any trouble with inviting the attention of their teacher. By the end of the lesson, they had established themselves as being as knowledgeable as the brightest and best informed of the class, and moreso than most.

When History finished, it was time for all the students to head down to the amphitheatre, passing through the courtyard and circling around the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated it, before reaching the tall, circular building that served as the arena for combat and important school announcements alike.

Team SAPR had special treatment as far as the locker rooms were concerned. In respect of Ruby's youth and the fact that it was kind of skeezy to make a fifteen-year old girl get undressed and showered where a bunch of men of dubious character like Flash and Cardin could see her, Team SAPR had their lockers in a different part of the building, where harmless Jaune was the only boy in sight. Today, however, it became apparent that they weren't the only ones getting special privileges, as Team RSPT also headed to a different part of the vast and spacious locker rooms to change out of their Atlas uniforms.

"I wonder what's up with Rosepetal?" Jaune asked, as the four members of Team SAPR changed out of their school uniforms and into their battle attire. “I mean, when the rest of the students from the other schools arrive, they’ll be getting changed in the first-year locker rooms, right?”

"It wouldn't surprise me if Twilight is self-conscious," Sunset mused, as she slid rounds into the chamber of Sol Invictus. "She is exactly the type to get flustered at the thought of the boys seeing her undressed."

"You say that as though it is a bad thing," Pyrrha replied in a reproachful tone. "I wouldn't have said anything under ordinary circumstances, but I was never thrilled by the idea of getting undressed and showered in front of all those boys. I don't blame Twilight for wanting to avoid that."

"You don't mind me being around here," Jaune pointed out. "I mean… not that I… there's a reason I'm all the way over here so that your locker doors are like screens, and in the shower-"

"I trust you, Jaune," Pyrrha said. "I know that you would never… take advantage in any way. Unfortunately, that's not something I can say about all of our classmates."

"If Ciel is a robot-" Ruby began.

"Ciel is not a robot," Sunset told her.

"Then she wouldn't want anybody to see her get changed because of her robo-joints," Ruby said.

"Ciel is not a robot," Sunset repeated.

"I haven't asked, but does anyone think that Penny seems rather young?" Pyrrha asked. "Closer to Ruby's age than ours. Might that have something to do with it? Perhaps Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch have learned from what happened with Ruby?"

"She hasn't mentioned her age," Sunset pointed out.

"She isn't obliged to," Pyrrha answered.

Sunset could concede that, and also agree with Pyrrha that Penny did have a very youthful affect and countenance. She did look closer to Ruby's age.

I wonder what she did to get the kind of special treatment that even Rainbow Dash couldn't get?

"So, Penny," Rainbow asked. "How are you finding Beacon so far?"

Penny blinked. "Everyone is very welcoming," she answered.

"The teachers have been welcoming. I'm not so sure about all the students," Rainbow muttered.

Penny tilted her head to one side. "Are you still upset about what Blake said?"

"Okay, anyone who is not a faunus needs to stop talking to me like I overreacted," Rainbow declared, pulling her Undying Loyalty out of the locker and slinging it across her back. "Telling me that because I'm a faunus I ought to be some White Fang thug is every bit as racist as… you know what, it's just racist, and I don't care if she meant well or not. I'm an Atlesian, and I will love my kingdom if I want to."

"Atlas is not perfect," Ciel admitted, "but we strive for perfection. Whilst others are content to dwell amidst the dirt, we rise toward heaven, with our hands outstretched."

Rainbow grinned. "You know, if you talked like that more often, fewer people would think you're a robot."

Ciel scowled. "You mock me."

"No," Rainbow said. "Not now, that was… that was nice. Like poetry, but not boring."

"Poetry is not boring," Twilight protested. "Only bad poetry is boring."

"Then why is so much poetry bad?" Rainbow replied. "The point is, Penny… the point is that I was right, and I didn't overreact at all. Now, are you ready?"

"Combat ready," Penny declared.

"Awesome," Rainbow said. "Ciel?"

Ciel slapped a magazine into her monster of a rifle before collapsing it down to a more manageable length. "Ready," she announced.

"You know if you get called out to fight, that thing is going to be a liability, right?"

"I am resigned to the fact that my sparring scores will be underwhelming," Ciel replied calmly.

"Twilight?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight was encased inside a suit of lavender armour, metal plates interlocking to create a sleek casing that embraced her completely without seeming bulky or cumbersome. The joints glowed faintly with the dust she was using to power the suit, and the weapons systems concealed within the chubby gauntlets that were the only chunky part of the whole design. The visor rose, revealing Twilight's face, glasses and all, underneath. "I still prefer to let my drones do the work, but I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'll try not to let you down."

"You couldn't," Rainbow declared. "No matter what happens in there. Did you give her a name yet?"

"Not yet."

"Come on, Twi, everybody names their weapons," Rainbow said. "They form part of our legends."

"You sound almost Mistralian," Ciel observed.

"Like your rifle doesn't have a name," Rainbow replied. "Even Penny's swords have a name. Just give it some thought, Twilight, and don't wait too long. But for now, let's go and show them what Atlas is made of."

The amphitheatre at Beacon was… well, it was a lot less impressive than the high tech training facilities at Atlas, where hard light could create simulations of all different kinds of terrain – terrain that always looked like it was made out of blocks stacked on top of one another, admittedly – and the whole room was a playground, with the observation gallery separate. By contrast, Beacon was a lot more primitive, with just a sparring ring – and not even a particularly huge sparring ring – at the back of the room, with benches on the ground floor and a gallery up above to watch from.

Beacon had a reputation as the best of the four Academies, but so far, Rainbow wasn't really seeing it.

Team RSPT sat in the upper gallery, not far from Team SAPR.

A mature blonde wearing half-moon glasses and carrying a riding crop strode out and onto the stage, her heels clicking upon the floor. "For the benefit of the newcomers amongst us, my name is Glynda Goodwitch, and amongst other duties, I am the combat instructor here at Beacon. The presence of our guests from Atlas, the first but by no means the last students to be joining us from the other three academies, should serve as a reminder to you all that the Vytal Festival is not as far off as it might seem. Those of you who wish to compete in the combat tournament will be representing not only the Kingdom of Vale, but more importantly the honour of Beacon Academy.

"All of you have the potential to reach the point where you are ready to represent this prestigious institution in combat against representatives of Atlas, Haven, or Shade Academies. Some of you are there already; others of you still have some work to do before you get there. Regardless, whether you wish to compete in the combat tournament or not, I will not tolerate anything less than your best efforts.

"Team Rosepetal, I'm sorry to disappoint any of you who were hoping to show your prowess this morning, but as it is the beginning of the fifth week since the semester, we'll be taking a milestone of the progress so far of our existing students. Team Sapphire, Team Iron, please make your way up onto the stage."

"Good luck Ruby!" Penny cheered. "Good luck Pyrrha!"

"Penny," Ciel said, "curb your enthusiasm."

"Is it wrong to cheer for my friends?"

"It is improper to behave like a soccer fan on the terraces," Ciel declared. "The purpose of this battle is to educate, not entertain."

That was why Rainbow leaned forward as the two teams made their way up onto the stage. She thought she knew who the winner of this fight was going to be, but while she'd already seen Pyrrha and Sunset in action, she didn't know anything about what Ruby, Jaune, or any of Team YRDN were capable of.

Now would be a good time to find out, in case she had to go up against any of them later.

Perhaps she could also see what Ozpin had been thinking making Sunset Shimmer of all people a team leader.

The two teams went into huddles at opposite sides of the stage. Professor Goodwitch seemed content to give them a few moments to come up with a plan. Rainbow tried to figure out what they were each planning as she watched them. Nora was waving her hammer, and Yang was shaking her head. Rainbow couldn't guess what it amounted to.

"Three," Professor Goodwitch announced, informing them that their time was almost up. The two teams squared off against one another, weapons at the ready.

"Two," Professor Goodwitch continued. "One. Begin!"

Rainbow was not prepared for what happened next, as Sunset dropped her gun, flung out her hands dramatically in front of her and then started shooting laser beams out of her fingertips.

Rainbow's eyes widened. Since when did Sunset Shimmer have that kind of firepower? She'd always had an energy redirection semblance, but she fired out of the palm, and not very often at that. Rainbow had certainly never seen her lay down a barrage like the one that Sunset was bombarding Team YRDN with, blasting their side of the stage of smithereens as they tried to avoid the blasts that erupted from Sunset's fingers.

While they were distracted and pinned down, the other members of Team SAPR charged in: Ruby against Nora, Pyrrha against Yang, and for a moment, Jaune against both the YRDN boys, Dove and Ren, although Sunset stopped spamming her semblance once the risk of hitting her own teammates started, picked up her weapon and teleported to the other side of the stage?

What the-? Rainbow thought as she watched Sunset appear behind Dove in a burst of green light, blast him with a bolt from her palm, and then start trying to smack him with the butt of her rifle. Could she always do that?

Team SAPR didn't have it all their own way. Ren had Jaune completely outclassed, so much so that he was able to break off from Jaune and go to Dove's aid, putting Sunset on the back foot for a second so that Dove, in turn, could finish off Jaune. Of course, by this point, Ruby had tossed Nora out of the ring, and Yang was having no luck at all against Pyrrha, unable to land so much as a glancing blow. Pyrrha took her aura into the red just as Sunset and Ruby together finished off Dove and Ren.

"Yay," Penny said softly. "Is that better, Ciel?"

"Much better, Penny, thank you," Ciel replied.

Rainbow glanced at Twilight. "Did you ever see anything like that from Sunset before?"

Twilight shook her head. "Do you think she's gotten stronger?"

"Or she was always that strong," Rainbow muttered.

At lunch, Sunset moved for Penny again, and Rainbow took the opportunity to sit down beside her. "You're a bit of a dark horse, huh?"

"That's racist," Sunset answered evasively as she forked a few salad leaves into her mouth.

"I'm a faunus too; I can't be racist, remember?" Rainbow replied, picking up a chip off her plate and placing it in her mouth. She chewed on it for a moment. "Seriously, since when could you do all that laser stuff?"

"Since I realised that having people know what I could do and respect me for it was more important than the chance to catch them off guard when the chips were down," Sunset replied.

Rainbow frowned. "So… you could do that the entire time; you were just hiding it?"

"Yep."

"And now you've decided to stop hiding it?"

"Yep."

Rainbow paused for a moment. "Okay, you and me need to have a match sooner or later. Hopefully sooner."

Sunset grinned. "What's the matter, Rainbow Dash? Do you have something to prove all of a sudden?"

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "It's stuff like this is why you stopped hiding, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Sunset confirmed. "And it's totally worth it."

"So, Atlas kids," Yang began. "How are you enjoying Beacon so far?"

"Is Grimm Studies always like that, or was that a special show he put on for us?" Rainbow asked.

Yang winced. "It's pretty much always like that."

Rainbow groaned. "How have you gotten through four weeks of that?"

"Don't pay any attention to any of these people," Sunset said, gesturing to Yang's team and the remainder of her own. "None of them get it despite my attempts to explain it to them."

"Are you honestly attempting to maintain that Professor Port's teaching style is efficient?" Ciel demanded incredulously.

"I wouldn't go that far, no," Sunset admitted, "but I understand what he's aiming for: it's a parable style in which each story contains a number of lessons embedded within it. In this case, there was a lot of detail about how to fight dromedons if you were listening for it."

"I understand, and I think I even picked up on most of them," Twilight said, "but that doesn't change the fact that if he wanted to tell us about dromedons, he could just… talk about dromedons?"

"So, Nora," Rainbow said, "what did the professor mean about the sulphur fish?"

Nora's cheeks reddened with embarrassment. It was Ren who answered for her. "She tried to pet them."

Rainbow's eyebrows. "You tried to pet the sulphur fish?"

"They're so small!" Nora cried. "Like baby turtles!"

"Okay, that's a new one," Rainbow said.

"At least history was pretty cool," Twilight said.

"If you can keep up with what Doctor Oobleck's saying, maybe," Yang said.

"What about you, Penny?" Ruby said. "How are you finding Beacon?"

"Wonderful," Penny declared. "Especially getting to watch you all fight. You and Pyrrha and Sunset were all incredible."

"Penny," Pyrrha said, in a tone of mild reproach.

"What?"

"It's okay," Jaune said.

"You are improving, Jaune; you proved that on Saturday," Pyrrha told him. "Don't let yourself be disheartened by this, I beg you."

"I'm not," Jaune assured her. "But I don't need Penny – or anyone else – to pretend I'm better or stronger than I am."

Then what are you doing here? Rainbow thought. There was no shame in not being a huntsman. Four of Rainbow's best friends in the world weren't huntresses – and she counted Twilight in that number – and she would never think any the less of them for that nor allow anyone else to speak any the less of them for that. There was nothing wrong in admitting that you had different talents, different dreams, that you weren't cut out for this, or that you just didn't want to do it. Rarity could have been a decent huntress, but there was no shame in her saying that she'd rather devote her life to beauty. Yes, somebody had to do this job and man the barricades, but there would always be somebody who wanted to. Somebody like Rainbow Dash.

There was no shame in turning your back on this life and finding another path, but to continue on it even though you weren't suited? Rainbow couldn't say whether Jaune Arc was improving or not, but she could say already that he was the weak link of the team. And that… that was something to be ashamed of, because at the end of the day, this wasn't a game. Lives were at stake here.

And Rainbow was surprised, very surprised, that Sunset didn't seem to see that.

Rainbow and Twilight sat on the roof of the Beacon dorm rooms, their legs dangling over the side, kicking in the air.

It was the end of their first day at Beacon, and the sun was going down. It was a little cold. Winter was definitely on the way around here. Rainbow wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t get some snow.

“It’s weird that this place gets colder than Atlas, isn’t it?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight shrugged. “It makes perfect sense,” she said. “Thanks to the heating grid, Atlas is kept at a steady temperature higher than the surrounding tundra or the altitude would warrant in normal circumstances. Vale… doesn’t have that.”

“It still feels weird,” Rainbow replied. She looked at Twilight, the breeze blowing gently through her hair, making her bangs flutter back and forth. “Are you ready?”

“Sure,” Twilight said. “Go for it.”

Rainbow got out her scroll, and held it up at arm’s length while she and Twilight huddled close together so that both their faces appeared on the screen. Then she selected the call-group ‘Spectacular Six’.

Twilight had turned off her scroll, so one of the five boxes that appeared on the screen was black, with an ‘unable to connect’ message, even as the other five squares that made up her screen were blue, connecting icons flashing white upon the background.

Rarity was the first to pick up, her hair in curlers as she sat in a pink fluffy nightgown. “Rainbow Dash! Twilight! How lovely to hear from you darlings, and about time, I daresay.”

Twilight laughed nervously. “Sorry about that, Rarity. We should have called sooner.”

“Oh, water under the bridge now, Twilight, pay it no mind at all,” Rarity said. “I see that you’re call-”

“Oh, hello girls,” Fluttershy murmured as her face, half-hidden behind her long, lilac hair, appeared in another box on the screen.

Rainbow grinned. “Hey, Fluttershy, how’s it going?”

“Alright,” Fluttershy said. “Rarity’s taking me to the release party for the new Shadow Spade mystery.”

“Taking you or dragging you?” Rainbow asked.

“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity cried. “I do not drag Fluttershy anywhere. I sometimes suggest that she might like to expand her horizons.”

“I don’t mind,” Fluttershy said. “They’re very cosy mysteries once you get past the rough exterior.”

“Howdy, girls,” Applejack said, as her face appeared on the screen. She was without her usual Stetson, instead wearing a scarf wrapped around her head. “Sorry I’m late; I was helping Big Macintosh repaint the barn.” She frowned. “I ain’t the last one here? Now where is-”

“I had to get my cakes out of the oven,” Pinkie explained as her face appeared in the final box. “Hey Twilight, hey Rainbow Dash.”

“Now how in tarnation did you-”

“It’s a gift,” Pinkie said.

“It’s something else, I admit,” Applejack said. “Now, where exactly are you two callin’ from?”

“We’re at Beacon Academy, in Vale,” Twilight said.

“'Beacon'?” Applejack repeated. “And what in the cider cask are you doing there so early?”

“Well, the person we were sent to bring home from Vale didn’t want to go, and so, we ended up staying here,” Rainbow explained.

Pinkie beamed. “So you chose to make someone else smile.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we did. And… it felt good to do it too.”

“So you’re not coming home?” Fluttershy asked anxiously.

“Not for a while, no,” Rainbow admitted. “Maybe for Spring Break, but maybe not. We’ll see how it goes.”

“Aww, it’s a pity you’re stuck in Vale,” Pinkie said. “But hey! It could be worse: Twilight could have ditched us all to run away to Vacuo with the Shadowbolts.”

Twilight frowned. “Why would I go to Vacuo with the Shadowbolts of all people?”

“I’m sure there’s a world out there where it makes sense,” Pinkie said.

Twilight glanced at Rainbow, who shrugged. Sometimes you just had to accept that Pinkie was… Pinkie.

“You two gonna be okay down there in Vale?” Applejack asked. “All by yourselves till the rest of the students show up?”

Rainbow put her free hand around Twilight’s shoulder, hugging her close. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” Applejack threatened good-naturedly.

“Applejack,” Twilight protested.

“No offence, Twilight, but you ain’t exactly the toughest nut in the… bag of nuts,” Applejack countered.

“She’ll be fine,” Rainbow insisted. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to Twilight.” She hugged Twilight even closer to her. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Rainbow kissed her on the forehead. “Nothing at all.” Twilight meant everything to all of them. Twilight was the one who had brought them all together at Canterlot and held them altogether afterwards. Twilight was a piece of all their hearts and held a piece of their hearts in turn. Twilight… Twilight was Rainbow’s hope.

She’d die for her, if she had to.

“Enough of such gloomy talk,” Rarity declared. “You should try and enjoy yourselves while you’re in Vale. I understand that The Mistralian Opera Ghost just opened in the West End, and it’s gotten such rave reviews, you really must try and see it.”

“It also has the largest public zoo in all of Remnant,” Fluttershy added.

“Uh, we’ll bear both of those in mind, thanks,” Rainbow said.

“If you could come home for spring vacation, that would be ideal, darlings,” Rarity went on. “That way, I can tailor your dresses for the Vytal Festival parties; if not, I’ll just have to rely on your measurements.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “That reminds me, I’ve heard that both Weiss Schnee and Pyrrha Nikos are attending Beacon this year.”

“That’s right,” Twilight said. “We’ve met both of them; they’re in our class.”

“Really?” Rarity cried, her blue eyes sparkling. “Why, darling, you must ask them if I might do them the honour of making them gowns for the Vytal dance. With that kind of publicity, I’m sure to-”

“Rarity, we’re not going to badger Weiss and Pyrrha into wearing your dresses,” Rainbow said.

“I didn’t ask you to badger anyone,” Rarity protested, “but if you could mention that I am, as it were, fashionably-inclined, then perhaps show them a few examples of my works – ooh, I’ll send you some of my best pictures.”

“Hold on, now, Rarity,” Applejack said. “Why don’t we let them get a little more settled in, first?”

“Oh, oh yes, of course, darlings, wouldn’t want to put any undue pressure on you, of course.”

“We’ll miss you both so much,” Fluttershy said, “but we’ll be waiting right here when you get back.”

“And then we can all go to Sugarcube Corner and have sundaes, and you can catch up on everything you’ve missed, and then, you can tell us all about your adventures,” Pinkie declared.

Rainbow’s smile was broad and bright. “That sounds great, Pinkie; I’m looking forward to it already. You okay to keep looking after Tank for me?”

“Sure thing,” Pinkie chirruped.

“And Applejack, Rarity, can you two look in on Scootaloo from time to time, make sure she’s doing okay?”

“Of course, dear.”

Applejack nodded. “You betcha. You’re gonna call her, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll do it now,” Rainbow said. “Or when we’re finished.”

“We’re really sorry about this,” Twilight said. “It’s just… duty calls, I guess.”

“We understand,” Applejack said. “We’ll miss you, but we understand.”

“We love you!” Pinkie cried.

“We love you too, Pinkie,” Twilight said. “We love all of you.”

A chorus of goodbyes echoed out of the scroll as, one by one, everyone hung up. The screen went dark as Rainbow looked at it.

“They’ll be fine,” Twilight said. “And so will we, and we'll be together again before you know it.”

“I know,” Rainbow replied. “Now I’ve gotta call Scootaloo.”

“Right,” Twilight murmured. “Do you want me to stay for that?”

Rainbow shook her head. “No, you go back to the dorm room. I’ll be there before curfew.”

Twilight stood up. “You know, I don’t think they have a curfew here at Beacon.”

Rainbow looked up at her. “Really?”

“No,” Twilight said. “No curfew, no weekend passes; you just come and go as you please, so long as you show up to class.”

Rainbow frowned. “That’s a strange way to run an academy.”

“It seems to work for them,” Twilight replied. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”

Rainbow snorted. “Thanks, Twi.”

She turned away and listened to the sound of Twilight’s footsteps on the roof, fading away as she descended the stairs.

Rainbow looked down at her scroll and sighed. “Hey, Scootaloo, I won’t be around much for a while… just like your parents. I’m sorry, but I can’t avoid it… again, just like your parents. Just like they say, anyway.” She sighed again. Scootaloo’s a good kid, she’ll understand.

Doesn’t mean she’ll like it, though.

Nevertheless, she deserved to know. Rainbow called Scootaloo.

It was only a few seconds before Scootaloo’s face appeared in the screen, her dark purple hair styled the same as Rainbow’s, her pony ears pricked up happily. “Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow smiled. “Hey there, Scootaloo! How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just chilling in my room. Auntie Lofty made cookies.”

“Your aunt makes the best cookies,” Rainbow Dash said. “But don’t tell Pinkie I said that.”

Scootaloo giggled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That is why you’re the best little sister I could hope for,” Rainbow said. She hesitated. “Listen, Scootaloo… I’m calling because… because I’m not going to be around much this year. Not at all for a few months at least.”

Scootaloo frowned. “Why? I thought you were going to come visit next weekend, and we were going to go camping.”

“Yeah, I know, that was the plan,” Rainbow admitted, “but… I’m in Vale now, and I’m going to be stuck here for a while. It’s not great, but…”

“Duty calls,” Scootaloo murmured.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said unhappily. “I’ll try and get back for Spring Break, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”

“But why are you in Vale so early?” Scootaloo asked. “You said you didn’t ship out until next semester.”

“That… things change sometimes,” Rainbow offered feebly. “I can’t explain it - like ‘can’t explain because it’s classified’ kind of can’t explain it - but I’ll be back after the Vytal Festival at the latest! And then we can hang out and do all kinds of awesome stuff together before the next year starts.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Scootaloo muttered.

“Not from me,” Rainbow said fiercely. “When I say I’m sorry, I mean it, and when I say that I’ll make it up to you, I mean that too!” She exhaled heavily. “You know that I do this for you, right? It’s a mean world out there, and someone has to defend it. And since… since that’s something I can do, then I… then I gotta do it.” It was the only thing that she could do. The only way that she could make herself useful to Twilight and the others. Gods knew they didn’t need her for her brains or her creative talents. But she had two good hands and some talent with her aura, so… so she could keep them safe.

Them, and Scootaloo, and Ciel and Penny, and the whole of Atlas if she had to.

Because she was their protector, the strong one.

Scootaloo stared up at her from out of her scroll. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I believe you.”

“Great,” Rainbow said, relief evident in her voice. “Because I will try and get back, and I will make it up to you. And hey, you’ll never guess who’s here at Beacon with me.”

Scootaloo pondered. “Applejack?”

“No, Twilight, but that’s not who I meant: Pyrrha Nikos.”

Scootaloo gasped. “From the hospital?”

“Yeah, she remembered you,” Rainbow said. It was kind of true. Close enough, and it seemed to make Scootaloo happy.

“Really?” she cried. “Do you think she’d mind if I recorded her a message or sent her an email or something?”

“I think she’d like that a lot,” Rainbow said, “but I’ll check to make sure and pass her address onto you.”

“Thanks, Rainbow Dash; she’s almost as cool as you are.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Listen, you take care of yourself, okay, and your aunts too.”

“I will. You’re going to call again, right?”

“Every week, if I can,” Rainbow replied. “Be good, and good luck out there.”

“Speak to you soon, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cheered, as the call finished.

Rainbow stared down at the blank scroll in her hands for a moment before she put it away.

“Is that your sister?”

Rainbow looked around. Blake Belladonna was standing beside her, standing over her, looking down at her. Able to see her scroll.

Rainbow’s lip curled in contempt. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Blake said. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

“What do you want?” Rainbow demanded.

“To talk to you,” Blake said. She hesitated. “I’m… sorry that we got off on the wrong foot on Saturday. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“How was I supposed to take it?” Rainbow snapped. She growled wordlessly and remembered that Blake had come up here to apologise. Twilight would want me to play nice. “Sit down,” she gestured to the space on the rooftop beside her.

Blake sat down and looked out at the Vale CCT that rose up across the campus. “Quite a view from up here.”

“It’s not bad,” Rainbow replied. “It’s no Atlas, but it’s not bad.”

"Atlas," Blake murmured, "I've heard… it's beautiful."

"It's… sure, it's a nice place to look at," Rainbow acknowledged. "And on a clear day, if you get close to the city limits or the top of the academy tower, it feels like you can see the whole of Remnant from up there, but… it's the people that make it what it is. That make it the greatest place in the world."

Blake frowned.

Rainbow frowned right back at her. "What?"

"That's… not what I've heard," Blake replied. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Rainbow thought about what that meant. "You heard that the city is beautiful, but the people are… nice?"

"A little… less than nice," Blake admitted. "I… I had a friend, a faunus girl, a chameleon. She was born in Mantle, but her parents sent her to live in Atlas, and part time, she attended an exclusive prep school in Crystal City."

"Crystal City – you mean she went to Crystal Prep?" Rainbow asked.

"She said it was terrible."

"You're basing everything you know about big bad Atlas on the word of someone who went to Crystal Prep?" Rainbow sputtered in disbelief. "Of course she got the wrong idea, it… it was Crystal Prep!" She paused. "Are we talking about Ilia Amitola, here?"

Blake's eyes widened. "You know her?"

"She was a Crystal Prep Shadowbolt; I met her at the Friendship Games," Rainbow explained. "Until she stopped showing up. Word was that she suddenly got outed as a faunus, freaked out, and started attacking people."

"Her parents died!" Blake cried. "Of course she was upset."

"You're right, I shouldn't have said it like that," Rainbow conceded. "But the point is: she left on her own. Even though she'd broken the jaws of other students, Principal Cinch wasn't going to kick her out. That's the kind of school she went to, and that's why she thinks that way about Atlas. Now, if Ilia's parents had sent her to Canterlot-"

"Then she'd be like you?" Blake asked, her tone making it clear how unconvinced she was.

"I know that Atlas isn't perfect," Rainbow replied. "But I also know that it's getting better. Since Cadance got elected to the Council, she and General Ironwood have been pushing to… you know it's illegal to bar faunus from anywhere now? They got the law changed two years ago."

"Are you telling me that no faunus is ever refused service?" Blake replied.

"No, I'm not saying that; I'm saying things can change for the better, and they will, eventually."

"How long is 'eventually'?"

"I don't know, and why do you care?" Rainbow snapped. "What else can we do but keep pushing? Atlas isn't perfect, but it's full of good people. Good, beautiful people with hearts that could open for a Low Town punk like me. And they're pushing, for me, and when I'm C in C, I'll keep pushing too, for the people who'll come after."

Blake was silent for a moment. "You don't have to pretend to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your teammates aren't here right now; we're all alone," Blake said. "You don't have to pretend; you can be honest for the first time-"

"If you want me to throw you off this roof, you can just ask," Rainbow growled, cutting Blake off. She got to her feet, so that she was looking down on this meddling busybody who presumed to know her and to judge her friends. "You don't know me, you don't know my team, and you don't know my friends."

"I know they're all human," Blake replied, as she too rose to her feet. "Sunset told me as much. She didn't name you - it was before you got here - but the implication was clear."

"Sunset Shimmer doesn't know me either," Rainbow growled, "and frankly, she's not nearly as perceptive as she thinks she is."

"Do you feel like you're one of them?" Blake demanded.

"I am one of them, in every way that matters," Rainbow replied heatedly.

"Do you join in when they insult faunus, when they call them dirty or liars?"

"My friends don't say things like that, and neither do Ciel or Penny."

"You will never be one of them," Blake declared, her voice tremulous and trembling, "and there will come a moment when you realise that you never were."

“You think they're really your friends? Do you really believe that? Open your eyes, Dash, you'll never be nothing but a faunus to them!”

Rainbow bared her teeth, both at Blake and at the memory of Gilda's words, some of the last words that her old friend had ever spoken to her. She took a step forward. Blake retreated a step.

"I don't know who you think you are," Rainbow snarled, "but I don't need you to save me from the awful Atlesians who are… whatever you think they're doing to me. I've been saved already, and I don't need some human who had a faunus friend once and thinks that we should all join the White Fang because that's not profiling at all to tell me what to think. I know who cares about me. I know who's got my back. I don't need you to do what my friends never did and act like a racist who can’t see beyond my ears. Now get out of my sight; we're done."

Blake hesitated, staring defiantly into Rainbow's face. She turned and walked away, her footsteps brisk as she departed from the roof.

Rainbow took a deep breath. And then another. Her shoulders heaved. It wasn't true, what Blake had said. It wasn't true any more than what Gilda had said was true.

Rainbow hoped it wasn't true.

A glow of light began to shine from beneath, beyond the edge of the rooftop. It was a white glyph, one of a series of glyphs which formed in the otherwise empty air, gleaming brightly even as the sky began to darken as the sun went down. Weiss Schnee lept deftly from glyph to glyph, a gleaming figure herself in her white bolero and glittering tiara, until she was standing in the air looking ever so slightly down upon Rainbow Dash.

"I wish," she said, "that people would learn that we can hear everything they say up here from our dorm room."

Rainbow Dash assumed an 'at ease' posture. "I apologise for disturbing you, Miss Schnee. It won't happen again."

Weiss sighed. "You don't need to do that."

"Do what, Miss Schnee?" Rainbow asked.

"Bow and scrape to my family name," Weiss informed her. "I'm not going to call my father and have him speak to General Ironwood just because you didn't offer to shine my shoes. I may be a Schnee, but more importantly, I'm a huntress in training and a student at this school. The expected courtesy from one student to another is all I ask."

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "Okay, Miss- Weiss. I didn't meant to-"

"You didn't," Weiss assured her. "Believe me, I understand why you did it."

Rainbow nodded. "Thank you," she said. She paused. "So, you heard everything, huh?"

"Hey, Rainbow Dash!" Flash called from down below.

Rainbow grinned. "Hey, Flash, how's it going?"

Flash hauled himself up onto the rooftop. "It's okay," he said. "Listen, don't pay attention to Blake. You're right; she doesn't know your friends, but I do. Just because I was wrong about Twilight doesn't mean I'm wrong when I say that those girls… there's no way that what you feel for one another isn't real. No way."

"I don't know what's gotten into Blake lately," Weiss declared. "She was always quiet and subdued, but she was also incredibly brave in the leadership field exercise. She never struck me as being the kind of person to interfere in other people's affairs or to be so militantly opposed to Atlas. I can't think what's caused this change."

"She thought she'd found someone who'd agree with her?" Rainbow suggested.

Weiss folded her arms. "Perhaps. It's… a little disappointing," she said. "I agree with you that Atlas isn't perfect, any more than the SDC is flawless, but as you put it, we have no choice but to keep pushing forward."

"Right," Rainbow said softly. "Listen, even if you are a student first and a Schnee second, you're still a daughter of Atlas, and so if there's anything that my team can help you with, you can still call on us to help you out. And that goes for you, too, Flash. There's… there's some old fancy words that General Ironwood said, began with a C."

"Civis Atlarus Sum?" Weiss suggested.

"Yeah, that's the one," Rainbow agreed. "Atlas has got you covered."

Weiss chuckled. "Good to know," she said. "Although I'm not sure how much of a huntress I'd be if I needed it."

"But if we do need it, we'll be glad to have it," Flash said.

"Quite," Weiss agreed. "And one more thing, Rainbow Dash: if your friend really wants to send me a dress, I'm certainly not about to refuse it."

Over the Rainbow (New)

Over the Rainbow

Blake Belladonna had never sought to be a saviour. She had never wanted to be celebrated for her role in events. Unlike Adam, she had no desire to be lionised as a paragon of her kind. She had been groomed for leadership, but if that task had fallen to her, she would – she hoped – have taken it up with all due humility, as a heavy burden to be dutifully shouldered, not a gilded crown to be eagerly snatched up.

All of which was to say that Rainbow Dash was quite wrong to attribute Blake's motives to some sort of saviour complex on Blake's part. Blake wanted to save people, yes, where they needed saving, but she had only ever fought because it was the right thing to do and because she had the strength to fight, not because she wanted to be celebrated for having fought. She wasn't trying to save Rainbow Dash to make herself feel better… or at least she wasn't doing it to make herself feel good. There was, perhaps, a nagging sense of guilt over those that she had left behind: Ilia, Strongheart… even Adam. She had left them all behind to sink deeper into the mire of bitterness, wrath, and the desire for revenge. She had sought to assuage that guilt by opening Rainbow's eyes more gently, rather than standing by and allowing her to suffer the more violent shock of the moment when the masks would fall and Rainbow would realise the fear and contempt in which she was held by her supposed friends.

Or perhaps… perhaps Blake was wrong. She was willing to concede that. Not being driven by any desire to puff up her own ego with accomplishments, she was willing to admit that Rainbow Dash might not need saving. Blake still wasn't sure how any faunus could be so blind or indifferent to the suffering of their people that they would willingly join the Atlesian military and become a party to that same suffering and oppression, but she could concede that Rainbow Dash's faith in her human friends might not be misplaced. Blake still thought Rainbow was quite wrong to serve Atlas, of course, and her faith in human politicians and authority figures to advance the cause was as naïve as her parents' belief in the power of non-violent protest, but she might not need rescuing in the way that Blake had first conceived of.

Rainbow Dash wasn't Ilia. She wasn't hiding what she was, passing for human amongst the humans. Sunset said that Rainbow had forgotten that she was a faunus, but… well, Sunset had her hangups, even as Blake did. Everyone was a product of their own past and saw the shadows of that past in the lives of others, whether they belonged there or not. Rainbow went openly as a faunus, which meant it was possible that those around her had accepted her as the same.

Rainbow wasn't Ilia, then, but someone who had imbibed the values of Atlas. That might arguably be worse. She would probably do more ill as a servant of Atlas and its malign influence upon the world than she would ever accomplish in the White Fang, even fallen as they were.

And yet there was not much Blake could do about it. Opening Rainbow's eyes to the evil of the Atlesian system would be much harder than opening them to the indifference of the humans around her might have been. Blake might know, in her gut, that Atlas was an oppressor of faunus, but it would be hard to get that across unless she intended to suddenly start bombarding Rainbow with facts about conditions in the Mantle mines.

Blake had left Adam behind because you couldn't help someone who didn't want to be helped, and there came a point at which you had to help yourself. She wanted to help Rainbow step out of the shadows, but she wasn't going to risk exposure for someone who seemed quite content in themselves and their cause, though it was the worst cause for which ever a faunus fought.

She would need to decide whether she wished to expend any further effort on the Atlesian faunus or not.

It was the day after her ill-fated attempt to talk to Rainbow Dash on the rooftop – regarding further interactions between them, there was also the question of whether or not Rainbow would allow her to say anything else – and Blake was sat high up near the back of the lecture theatre waiting for Professor Goodwitch to arrive for Leadership. She could see Rainbow Dash down below, sitting with Weiss Schnee. It made her feel a little ill, a faunus kowtowing to the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company like that. All that the SDC did, all that they took from the faunus, and still, people like Rainbow Dash were willing to forget it all in hopes of patronage and advantage.

Does she really believe that they'll ever make a faunus commander of the Atlesian military? That they'll ever give a faunus a seat on the Atlesian Council? How naïve can a person be?

"Good morning, students," Professor Goodwitch said as she strode into the hall, "I apologise for my tardiness." Her heels tapped upon the floor. She stopped, and turned to face the class. "Welcome to leadership, Miss Dash."

"Thank you, ma'am," Rainbow said, standing up.

Professor Goodwitch hesitated for a moment, and Blake thought she might protest the use of ‘ma’am,' but she did not and merely gestured for Rainbow to take her seat again.

"Miss Dash," Professor Goodwitch continued, "what, in your opinion, makes a good leader?"

Rainbow replied at once. "A good team leader knows her teammates better than their mothers do and loves them as much."

"That is a very good answer from General Ironwood," Professor Goodwitch said. "I would rather hear what Rainbow Dash has to say."

Rainbow let out a slightly self-effacing laugh. "I guess… trust?"

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Your team needs to trust you to have their backs when things get rough," Rainbow said. "Otherwise, you can't trust them to do the same."

"And where does the authority of a leader derive?"

"From the General," Rainbow said, "and from that trust. Once your teammates know they can trust you, they'll follow you anywhere."

"And how do you establish that trust?"

Rainbow said, "Well, I guess that's where General Ironwood ordering your teammates to obey you comes in, Professor."

"Indeed," Professor Goodwitch said, in that even tone she often used during Leadership class to mask her personal opinions on any given subject.

Trust, Blake mused. How can you completely trust Atlesians?

And how can you be sure that they trust you?

"Sunset?"

Sunset looked up from her Plant Science homework to see Blake Belladonna walking towards her. The moonlight streamed in through the library windows.

"Blake," Sunset said evenly.

"I went to your dorm room," Blake said. "Ruby and Yang were there; they told me you'd be here."

"They were right," Sunset replied. Pyrrha and Jaune were training, and Sunset had let Ruby and Yang have the dorm room to read some more of their mother's diary while she retired to the library to get a head start on this week's homework. Plant Science was her worst subject, and her least favourite. It was an effort to get through each essay.

Blake hovered at Sunset's table. "Can we talk?"

"We're talking now."

Blake stared down at Sunset, not rising to the bait.

Sunset sighed. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Rainbow Dash."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Did it not occur to you that I might have better things to do than talk about Rainbow Dash?"

"Please," Blake said. "I know that you went to combat school with her."

"So did Lyra and Bon Bon; why don't you talk to them?"

"Because you're a faunus," Blake said.

"Well that's… bluntly put," Sunset muttered. "Are you sure it's not because your team doesn't like you?"

Blake’s eyebrows rose.

"Don't look at me like that; what do you expect me to say?" Sunset asked. "Your teammates avoid you more than mine avoided me when I was an incredibly avoidable person! They spend more time with Dove Bronzewing of Team Iron than they do with you."

"I'm not here to make friends," Blake murmured.

"Are you here to make an enemy of Rainbow Dash?" Sunset asked. "I don't know exactly what you said to her last night, but she was still spitting blood about it this morning. I didn't tell you that she acted like a human so that you could go and tell her that I said so."

Blake winced. "I didn't mean to get you in any trouble. What did she do?"

"Blustered at me," Sunset answered. "Which I could have handled except that she was doing it in front of my team. I had to apologise before they started to think I'd done something wrong. I don't like having to apologise."

"I hadn't noticed."

"If you want to be sarcastic, you can find someone else to talk to about Rainbow Dash," Sunset informed her.

"Sorry," Blake murmured. "Can I sit down?"

Sunset sighed deeply. "Sure. Why not?"

"Thank you," Blake said quietly, as she took the chair on Sunset's right, pulling it out and sitting on it. She crossed her legs and waited for Sunset to say something.

Sunset did not do so.

"Sunset?" Blake asked.

I'd rather be doing Plant Science, and that's saying something, Sunset thought. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"What was it like to live in Atlas?" Blake asked.

"I never actually lived in Atlas," Sunset admitted, "I lived in Canterlot. I never even saw the city of Atlas."

"But what was it like in Canterlot?"

Sunset paused, thinking about it. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't tell what is my righteous anger and what is my folly," Sunset hissed at her. "Because I have sworn to reform myself, to live better, to be better than I was… and if I let my thoughts dwell upon Canterlot too much, I may forget why I made that vow."

Blake was silent for a moment. "I… I should probably tell you that you have a right to be angry-"

"Do I?" Sunset demanded. "Do I have the right to take that anger out on Ruby? On Pyrrha and Jaune, who have done me no harm? Do I have the right to let anger ruin my life as it has done these many years and leave me with nothing, nothing at all to show for it?" She shook her head. "I will not. I was blessed with teammates overflowing with compassion, and out of their compassion, they have raised me from the darkness. Perhaps there are things I could be angry about but… I dare not take the risk of plunging back into the depths."

Blake was silent for a moment. "I understand," she said. "That's what I was going to say: although I should say that you have a right to be angry, I understand why you don't want to give it purchase. I've seen anger, even righteous anger, anger for a cause that was indisputably right and just, corrupt good people, twist them until they… why do you think the White Fang gave in to violence? It wasn't just that they lost hope; it's that the anger in their souls became overwhelming. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have asked you that. I should have known better." She paused. "Do you want me to go?"

"I can talk about Rainbow Dash," Sunset said. "I think I can talk about Rainbow Dash."

Blake nodded. "Are you sure?"

Sunset also nodded, although it was a tight nod, as much a jerk of the head. "What do you want to know?"

"She is the faunus you were talking about, isn't she? The one who surrounds herself with humans?"

"She's the one," Sunset agreed.

Blake paused. "Can they be trusted? Her friends?"

"What do you mean by 'can they be trusted?'"

"I mean are they really her friends, or is this some sort of game to them?"

Sunset glanced at Blake, her eyebrows rising curiously. "Have you ever known any humans pull a long con like that? Come on, my boyfriend dumped me because I'm a faunus, and he's a bigot, and even I don't think he was playing with me for our whole relationship."

"I admit it sounds a little far fetched when you put it like that," Blake admitted. "So you think it's real, their friendship?"

"I think if anything is real in these four kingdoms, it's their friendship," Sunset replied. "That's what I envied about her, that she had such good friends, such loyal friends, such true friends, and they didn't even seem to care that she was a faunus."

"You're not doing so badly for friends yourself," Blake pointed out.

"That's why I said envied in the past tense," Sunset replied, "but yes, for whatever it's worth, I think they really care about her and her for them."

"Why?" Blake asked.

Sunset frowned. "Why what?"

"Why do they care about her, when she's a faunus? Why does she care about them when they're not?"

"Why do Pyrrha and Ruby give a damn about me? I don't know how the heart works," Sunset replied. "Call me… confused but grateful. As far as I'm concerned all of this stuff might as well be-"

"Magic?" Blake suggested.

If only you knew. I could understand magic. "Sure," Sunset grunted, "why not? Listen, I don't know Rainbow Dash's story. I was never even a hanger-on to their friend group. I was never close to any of the girls. They were already a clique by the time I arrived at Canterlot." She decided not to mention her failed attempts to break them up. "All I know is that Rainbow and Twilight are at the heart of it. They were friends before they met the others; together, they hold the rest of the group together, more or less. How did Flash put it? Ah, yes: 'Twilight is the heart of the group, and Rainbow is the soul.'"

"I see," Blake said quietly. "Why does she wear that uniform?"

"The Atlas uniform?" Sunset asked. "Why shouldn't she?"

"Because she's a faunus," Blake insisted. "Would you wear it?"

"I came to Beacon only partly because of what kind of a kingdom Atlas is," Sunset admitted, "and partly because I wanted to get away from my past and try for a fresh start where people like Rainbow Dash wouldn't recognise me. If I had been lauded and admired at Canterlot the way that Rainbow was lauded and admired, you bet your bottom lien I would have gone to Atlas."

"In spite of the way they treat the faunus?"

"Rainbow doesn't see it," Sunset informed her, ignoring the question as it applied to herself. "She soars too high for the suffering of the faunus on the ground to register. Listen, I told you that Twilight and Rainbow arrived at Canterlot together, that much was common knowledge even from people who didn't know anything other than that. Now, do you know that Twilight's father is a retired Colonel? That her sister-in-law sits on the Council? That General Ironwood is her godfather?"

Blake's eyes widened. "'Highly placed' seems like an understatement."

"And Rainbow is plugged in to all of that, through Twilight. Dash is General Ironwood's golden girl."

Blake leaned back in her seat. "No wonder she thinks she can fly all the way to the top," she murmured. "She is… not what I thought when I saw her in the cafeteria."

Sunset snorted. "She's a long way from Low Town, that's for sure."

"And yet she's still being used," Blake insisted. "Turned as a weapon against her own kind, made complicit in the sins of Atlas against the faunus."

"You mean against the White Fang?" Sunset asked. She didn't wait for a reply. "Let me ask you something: Why do you care so much? Why do you want to know about Rainbow Dash? Why do you give a damn whether she wears an Atlas uniform or not?"

"Because I thought she needed help," Blake said. "She reminded me of an old friend who I didn't help, and… I thought I could do better this time around." She got to her feet. "But Rainbow Dash isn't my friend, and although she still needs help – the Atlesians have got their hooks so deep into her that she believes that what she's doing is good and noble – it's not help that I can give. Thank you, Sunset. I'll let you get on with your work."

Blake left the library and was about to set off towards her dorm room when she found her route blocked by the diminutive figure of Weiss Schnee. In the dark of the night, the heiress was pure white, shining like a second moon descended from the heavens to better illuminate the world.

It was rather ironic, considering that her father's company routinely committed acts darker than any night. And yet, here and now, Weiss seemed completely removed from all of that. Out of darkness had sprung such beauty; it was also obscene that it should be so, an affront to justice.

Or perhaps it is perfectly just that she, who was not born guilty of her father's sins, shows in herself no trace of them.

Blake's brow furrowed. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Weiss put one hand on her hip. "I'm not sure. Perhaps there's something I can help you with."

"I doubt that," Blake murmured. "I'm not even sure why you'd think that."

"Yes, it can be odd when someone who doesn't even know you very well decides that there's something wrong with you and your life choices, isn't it?" Weiss replied. "Some people even find it annoying."

Blake looked away. "Are you here to tell me to stay away from Rainbow Dash?"

"I'm here to ask what's gotten into you," Weiss said. "I know that we don't know one another very well, and I admit that that may be in part my fault. I have been… a little distant from my fellow freshman."

Blake snorted. "So distant that, apparently, you haven't noticed that I'm not much of a social butterfly myself. Just because my team sometimes sits with Sapphire and Iron in the cafeteria doesn't mean I'm close to them."

"And yet you've fought with us," Weiss said. "You risked your own life to draw the grimm away so that Sunset, Yang, and I could finish the leader off. That was… very brave of you, and I don't think I ever thanked you for it."

"I didn't do it for your praise," Blake said, as she began to walk around Weiss and towards the dorm rooms.

"Have you hated Atlas all this time?" Weiss demanded of Blake's retreating back. "I'm trying to understand how you've suddenly gone from quiet to hostile."

Blake stopped. She looked back at the gleaming figure behind her. "I don't hate Atlas," she declared. "I hate the things that Atlas stands for, the institutions that Atlas upholds."

Weiss sniffed. "If you want to say 'the SDC' you can. I won't be offended." She paused. "I'm a little surprised that you'd care about offending me."

"I don't hate you, Weiss," Blake said, "and I'm not trying to go out of my way to be hostile. I just… I don't understand how she can wear that uniform and still look at herself in the mirror."

"She's a huntress in training, just like us," Weiss said.

"She's an Atlesian soldier!"

"So?" Weiss demanded. "You want to say that you hate the SDC, that's fine. I know what my father is. I know far better than you do, I'm sure. But the military is not the SDC."

"Yet it defends SDC facilities-"

"Of course they do, they're defending Atlas," Weiss replied. "That's like complaining that the Vale police enforce the law in Vale; it doesn't mean they endorse everything that goes on in Vale."

"Technological collaborations."

"From which the military benefits far more than the SDC; trust me, if my father could sever those ties, he would," Weiss said. "He only maintains that arrangement because it's politically necessary. I know there are those who say that the military are nothing more than enforcers for the SDC, but let me assure you, nothing could be further from the truth."

Blake was silent for a moment. "Your sister is a soldier, isn't she?"

Weiss nodded. "She's a Specialist."

"You didn't want to follow in her footsteps?"

The corner of Weiss' lip twitched upwards. "My father would never allow an Atlesian soldier to inherit his company. That should show you how he views the military. By becoming a huntress, I can fight for humanity and the honour of my family name while retaining my position as heiress and keeping the company out of… never mind. The point is that the huntsmen of Atlas are as upright and honourable as those trained at Beacon; none of them deserve to be castigated by you just because their jacket is white instead of black."

Blake was silent a moment. "Why… does it matter to you, what I say to this faunus who just happens to come from the same kingdom as you?"

"Why does it matter to you what this person you don't know chooses to do with her life?"

"Because I've known faunus from Atlas, and I had a hard time believing that Rainbow Dash could be sincere in her allegiance," Blake murmured. "I… might have been wrong about that." Now, while still believing that Rainbow was wrong in the flag to which she had pledged her life and honour, she could accept that she had done so earnestly.

"I was surprised to see Twilight and her team here," Weiss admitted. "Surprised enough to speak to my sister about it. She was… cagey about the details, but she confirmed that they're here with authorisation from General Ironwood, who holds Rainbow and Twilight in high esteem. With that kind of recommendation, I'm prepared to extend my trust."

"I'm a little surprised that you didn't know her already," Blake observed.

"I don't blame her for not wanting to attend those kinds of functions," Weiss said softly. "Atlas… isn't perfect. But those who serve and defend her shouldn't be condemned."

"Rainbow isn't going to have any more trouble from me," Blake assured her. "I'll leave her alone from now on."

"Or you could try getting to know her a little," Weiss suggested.

"Goodnight, Weiss," Blake said, resuming her journey back towards her dorm room.

She could accept that Rainbow did what she did for reasons that Rainbow believed in, but that didn't mean Blake had to like it.

Spa Day (New)

Spa Day

“So, don’t think me ungrateful, because I am very grateful,” Sunset said, as she and Pyrrha walked down the Valish street, “but why did you decide to treat me to a day at the spa and the hair stylists?” She picked at the scraggly ends of her hair. “Apart from the fact that my hair needs it.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I was trying to say at all,” Pyrrha assured her. “Please, I never set out to…” She paused. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“In a sense, although my hair could do with a treatment, so thanks again,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha looked away. “I need to get better at recognising that sort of thing.”

“Nah, you’re fine.”

“How am I fine if I get embarrassed and afraid I’ve offended someone every time they make a joke in my presence?” Pyrrha asked.

“So long as we’re not actually offended, it doesn’t matter,” Sunset told her, “and as for the flustered thing, well, that’s just one of those things that make you adorable.”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. “'Adorable'?”

“You are sometimes adorable,” Sunset said. “Has no one ever told you that before?”

“No,” Pyrrha said mildly. “No, they haven’t.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” Sunset replied. “I mean, it’s not always true. But when you’re not beating people up in the sparring ring, then it can be true of you, just like it’s true of Ruby.”

“Yes, Ruby,” Pyrrha murmured. “In any case, I suppose the answer to your original question is that I think this must be the sort of thing that is better with friends. Not that I’ve ever had the chance to find out.” She bowed her head, as her face assumed a dejected expression.

“Oh come on!” Sunset cried. “How can you not realise how adorable you look when you make faces like that.” She shook her head. “But thank you. I’m looking forward to this.”

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha said softly. “I’m rather looking forward to it myself; I hope this spa is as good as its reputation.”

“That’s right; you’re as much of a stranger here as I am, aren’t you?” Sunset said.

Pyrrha nodded. “I found this place through online reviews, but there’s all sorts of conflicting information about whether you can trust such things. Hopefully, we can.”

“And if they’re not, well, how bad can it be?” Sunset asked. “What are they going to do, use the wrong sort of mud on our faces?”

“That could actually be quite embarrassing for us if they did,” Pyrrha informed her.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You know, I wouldn’t have figured you for the spa-going kind of girl.”

Pyrrha laughed nervously. “As I said to Ruby when she was kind enough to compliment my hair: it takes a lot of work to look this good.”

“I thought that just meant your makeup and eyeshadow and things,” Sunset said. “I didn’t think it meant… whatever is waiting for us in there.”

“Have you never been to a spa before?”

“They’ve always been a bit out of my price range.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. “Well, if you enjoy it, then we can always come back. We could make a regular occurrence of it.”

Sunset hesitated, torn between her desire and her sense that if she started accepting Pyrrha’s charity, then she would be diminishing herself, humbling herself somehow. “Let’s… let’s just see how this goes, okay?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly.

The two of them fell silent, letting the hubbub of Vale pass over them as they walked along. Occasionally, Pyrrha got out her scroll to check that they were going in the right direction and changed said direction appropriately, but otherwise, they simply walked down the street, attracting some notice – it was Pyrrha, after all – but not responding to it.

“Does it really bother you?” Sunset asked.

“Excuse me?” Pyrrha replied.

“This,” Sunset explained, waving one arm to encompass the people snapping pictures of Pyrrha on the street. “The whole circus.”

Pyrrha glanced at the spectators and gawkers that it seemed she had been trying to ignore up until that point. “I… it isn’t my favourite thing in the world,” she murmured. She looked at Sunset. “Does that surprise you?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Sunset said. “I’d love it.” She tucked her hands behind her head, her fingers pushing through her hair that was in such dire need of a treatment. “I did love it.”

“'Did'?”

Sunset chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong - I was never an international celebrity - but amongst my little corner of the world, I was a pretty well-known figure, if I do say so myself.” Princess Celestia’s personal student, the pony she was closest to in all Equestria. “I was… I was a little bit like Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle. I knew everyone who was anyone, and anyone who wanted to be someone had to know me. And they all really wanted to know me because they thought I could get them in good with my teacher.”

“Does Rainbow Dash have to endure all that? And Twilight?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if they did,” Sunset declared. “Although, when I was at Canterlot, their friends were generally pretty good at making sure that nobody got that close to them with ill intentions.”

“All the same, I imagine it was quite hard for them,” Pyrrha said.

“Why?” Sunset asked.

“Did it really not trouble you to be surrounded by flatterers?” Pyrrha asked. “To have your relationship with your teacher reduced to nothing more than something to be exploited for the advantage of others?”

“I never did them any favours; I just liked to hold out the possibility that I might,” Sunset replied. “I’d string them along for a bit, squeeze a few favours of my own out of them, move on. It was a good racket while it lasted.”

Pyrrha gave Sunset a mildly disapproving look.

“What?”

“What did your teacher think about that?”

Sunset hesitated. “We never really talked about it… but she probably wasn’t very happy.”

“Do you think she knew?”

“Oh, she knew everything,” Sunset replied. Except for the fact that I wasn’t the pony she was looking for. “I… I’m not suggesting that you should take that approach, but at the same time, this isn’t so bad! Fame, attention-“

“Attention bestowed as upon an object, not a person,” Pyrrha added.

“Yeah, but you’ve got three friends at least now, and that’s not counting Iron or Rosepetal,” Sunset said. “So have your cake and eat it too; that’s my advice.”

Pyrrha frowned and didn’t respond.

“Can I ask you something?” Sunset asked. “If this bothers you so much, why didn’t you throw a couple of fights and diminish your mystique a little?”

“That… no, Sunset, I could never have done that,” Pyrrha declared. She smiled slightly. “You aren’t the only one who can be driven by pride at times.”

Sunset chuckled. “Now that I understand perfectly.”

Pyrrha’s smile broadened, but only for a moment. “Do you know how Ruby’s getting on with her mother’s diary?”

“That’s an abrupt change in conversation,” Sunset remarked.

“I’m curious,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset shrugged. “She’s learning things about her mother, I’m sure,” she said. “But if she’s learning anything new about her eyes, then she hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

“I see,” Pyrrha whispered.

Sunset frowned. “Is something up?”

“No.”

“If there is you can say so.”

“It’s nothing at all, really,” Pyrrha assured her. “I think we’re almost there.”

The spa in question was built in an old fashioned, slightly Mistralian style, like a public bath, with marble columns lining the exterior and creating a shadowed colonnade beneath which Sunset and Pyrrha passed before they reached the glass doors which opened for them automatically. A few people were sitting in the waiting room, lounging upon plush chairs, playing on their scrolls or reading magazines; quite a few of them were men, and from the way they were checking their watches, Sunset wondered if they were waiting to pick up their significant others.

Pyrrha walked up to the desk, Sunset following behind her. A woman in a blue blouse looked up at them as they approached.

“Hello,” Pyrrha said. “I have an appointment for two in the name of Nikos?”

The eyes of the girl behind the desk widened just a little at that, but she maintained an otherwise professional demeanour as she typed the name into the computer. “Of course, Miss Nikos, welcome.”

They were shown into a changing room with white tiles and lockers lining the walls, in which they both stripped out of their outfits and wrapped towels around themselves for modesty before heading into the sauna. Water was released at intervals upon the braziers of smouldering fire dust crystals that stood beside the door, filling the room up with steam.

Sunset sat upon a wooden bench, letting the steam soak into her pores. After mere moments she was already starting to relax.

She closed her eyes, and smiled. “I’m already glad you brought me here, Pyrrha, thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha replied softly. “Sunset?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Do you have any plans for spring vacation?”

“It’s not even midway through the semester yet.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “But… I’ve always spoken to Ruby, and, well… I was wondering if you might all like to visit Mistral during the break. As my guests.”

Sunset opened her eyes, which didn’t make a great deal of difference because there was so much steam in the room that she couldn’t see much of Pyrrha in any case. Mostly, what she could see was Pyrrha’s vibrant red hair. “You want us all to come and stay with you over the vacation?”

“Only if you want to, of course,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset paused. “Aren’t we a little common for you?”

“Sunset!” Pyrrha exclaimed. “Are you implying that I’m the sort of person who would be friendly towards you all here at Beacon and then feign to be ashamed of you back home?”

“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Sunset admitted. “But that was… I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Pyrrha said quietly. “I suppose I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand what you meant, but I’m not ashamed of you or Ruby or Jaune. I… I’m glad and proud to call you all my friends, and as my friends… I’d like to share my home with you, a little.”

“I get it,” Sunset murmured. She hesitated. Princess Celestia used to worry that I didn’t get invited to sleepovers, and now, I’m being invited to a whole different kingdom. It was… quite touching, really. “I’ve heard that Mistral’s a nice place.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Pyrrha whispered. “And with so much to see and do.”

“I’m sure,” Sunset replied softly, “but I’ve also heard that… um…”

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset had been about to mention the fact that Mistral had a reputation for faunus rights that was almost as bad as Atlas’s. But she had survived Atlas, and it wasn’t as if Vale was a shining beacon of equality for all of its pretensions. Screw it, I’m not going to live my life walking small and soft and letting the ignorant tell me where I can and cannot go. I’m Sunset Shimmer, and I do as I please, and I don’t let anybody tell me ‘no.’ “I’m in,” she said, “thank you, Pyrrha; this… it’s the… this means a lot.”

“It means a lot to me too,” Pyrrha said, sounding slightly nervous now. “I hope… I mean I’m sure that you’ll enjoy it. That you’ll all enjoy it.”

“Have you spoken to Jaune yet?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “I haven’t actually asked my mother about it either. I’ll speak to Jaune when we get back, and then… at some point… I’ll ask my mother. I’m sure she won’t refuse. She’s probably quite keen to meet all of you.”

“You mean to size us up?” Sunset asked.

“No!” Pyrrha said quickly. “Well, that is… please don’t worry about it. And as you say, it’s still quite a way off, yet.”

“I’m not worried,” Sunset said. She sighed deeply. “Worrying, in this place, seems excessively difficult.”

“I guess you must feel like you got the short end of the stick, huh?” Jaune said as he wrestled the clucking, squawking chickens back inside the coop.

“No,” Ruby said, in between giggling at his efforts. “Why would I think that?”

Jaune stopped and looked back at her. “Well, because Pyrrha and Sunset are off at the spa getting… whatever it is that girls do at a spa, and you’re, well, you're stuck here with me.”

“I’m not stuck with you, Jaune,” Ruby declared reproachfully. “You’re not my second choice. In fact, stop doing that!”

Jaune blinked. “Stop doing what?”

“That!” Ruby repeated, wagging her finger at him. “Stop talking about yourself like you’re such a loser.”

“Well-”

“Nope,” Ruby said, before he could finish. “Jaune, do you know what the best advice I’ve ever gotten from Sunset is?”

Jaune shook his head. “No, what?”

“We get treated the way that we act like we deserve,” Ruby told him. “She told me that after… I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong, like you’re not wanted.”

“But you’re-”

“Two years younger than anyone else here,” Ruby reminded him. “Sunset thinks that makes me a prodigy, but to a lot of people, it makes me someone who doesn’t deserve to be here yet. What Sunset was trying to tell me, what I’m trying to tell you, is that you’ll never belong here if you always act like you don’t.

“I know it must feel like Pyrrha and I are smothering you when we tell you to believe in yourself… doesn’t it?”

Jaune hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, it kinda does, sometimes.”

“But that’s not why we’re telling you that,” Ruby insisted. “It’s because… why do you think that Sunset always carries herself like… like a queen? It’s not because she believes in herself that much… or at least I don’t think that’s it, or at least I don’t think that’s it all the time. I think she does it because… because no matter what doubts she has she wants to act in such a way that nobody else has any reason to doubt her. Believing in yourself won’t make you a better huntsman, but it might mean that other people stop treating you like you don’t deserve to be here, and…” she trailed off into a mumbling so faint that Jaune couldn’t make it out.

“What was that?” he asked.

“And,” Ruby looked down, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt, “and it would make me feel a lot better, too. I… I don’t like it when you beat yourself up all the time.”

Jaune hadn’t considered that. He hadn’t considered that he might have overshot the mark from self-deprecation a bit, not least from sheer repetition. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I hadn’t thought about that. I guess I’ll try and keep a lid on it from now on.”

Ruby smiled, her silver eyes gleaming. “Thanks, Jaune. Now, is there anything that I can actually help you with? I feel like I’ve been watching you work so far.”

“We’re back,” Sunset called, as she and Pyrrha approached the farm.

“Hey!” Ruby cried. She frowned. “I thought you’d look different when you got back.”

“What do you mean ‘you thought’?” Sunset demanded, folding her arms. “We do look different. We look better than mortal man deserves.” She smirked in Jaune’s direction. “So avert your eyes, Jaune.”

“Nope!” Ruby declared. “Jaune is going to carry himself with confidence from now on, aren’t you, Jaune?”

“I, uh… yes!” Jaune said, in what he hoped was a firm, confident tone of voice. “Although, for what it’s worth… you look good.” He found himself looking a lot more at Pyrrha than at Sunset as he said that.

Pyrrha smiled. “Jaune, there’s something that I’d like to ask you.”

Jaune got up from on his knees. “Sure, you can ask me anything.”

“I know it’s quite early to think about the vacation,” Pyrrha began, “and I’m sure that you already have plans, but if you didn’t… then I was wondering if you might like to visit Mistral with me… and Ruby and Sunset of course,” she added quickly, a slight flush colouring her cheeks. “I mean, if you’d like, of course.”

Jaune was about to admit that he had been planning on doing nothing more than staying in school over the vacation, but then he remembered what Ruby had just said about confidence. “Sure,” he said, “that sounds… really great.”

“Wonderful!” Pyrrha cried, almost too enthusiastically. Her face became even redder than it had been before. “I mean, um, I’m very glad,” she said. “I know it seems like a long way off, but I can hardly wait to host you all when the semester ends.”

Exposed (New)

Exposed

The first snows of winter lay upon the streets of Vale, a gentle dusting covered the slanted rooftops of the terraced avenues and crunched underneath the feet of Sunset and her fellow team leaders as they walked, led by Weiss, down those same streets.

Snow lay on the ground and on the rooftops, but in between, Vale was a riot of colour: balloons of blue, green, yellow and white rose in bunches, tied to lampposts, to window frames, to the signs of public houses, to anything that would restrain them as they reached eagerly up towards the sky. Bunting in those same four colours, the colours of the four kingdoms of Vale, Mistral, Vacuo and Atlas, hung across the roads down which the students walked, wafting gently back and forth as a chill wind blew between the buildings.

It was like this all the way to Beacon, balloons and bunting lining the way, along with banners reading ‘Welcome to Vale’ similarly strung between the buildings.

“Either the people of Vale became a hive-mind about this sort of thing,” Yang observed, “or someone put all of this stuff up.”

“That would be me,” Skystar said, her voice carrying down the street from where she stood, supervising the raising of yet another ‘Welcome to Vale’ banner. She was dressed in a white winter coat, with a fur-lined collar, heavy boots, and thick-looking gloves enfolding her hands. Her turquoise hair was covered by a blue bobble hat that wobbled a little as she waved enthusiastically to the huntresses. “Hello!”

“Skystar,” Weiss said enthusiastically, and her step quickened as she closed the distance between them, dancing amidst the crowds traversing the street and leaving Sunset, Yang, Blake, and Rainbow Dash to follow in her footsteps towards the First Councillor’s daughter.

“Weiss,” Skystar greeted, taking Weiss’ hands in her own. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Weiss replied. “And how are Silverstream and Terramar?”

“Well, we finally managed to get Silverstream to take that top off that you signed for her,” Skystar said, with laughter in her voice. “Her mother had to promise that your signature wouldn’t come off in the wash.”

“Of course not,” Weiss declared. “That was special Schnee-branded waterproof ink, guaranteed to survive all washes of less than ninety degrees.”

“That’s what we said, but Silverstream still worried,” Skystar said. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet her; it’s been the highlight of her year.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Weiss said airily. “Always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially one with such a talented voice of her own; has Silverstream ever considered going into the music business? Because if so, I could put her in touch with one or two people.”

Skystar’s eyes widened. “Really? You’d do that?” She squealed in delight as she flung her arms around Weiss. “Cardy never told me how generous you are! This is amazing!”

Weiss laughed uncomfortably. “It’s nothing really. Certainly nothing compared to the amount of work that must have gone into all this.”

Now it was Skystar’s turn to laugh. “Oh, you know, I try my best. Everybody’s worked so very hard on this.”

“Um, Weiss?” Yang muttered. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pal?”

Weiss cleared her throat. “Of course, forgive me. Skystar, these are some of my fellow team leaders. Now, I believe you’ve already met Sunset and Rainbow Dash-”

“Hey there,” Rainbow said.

“Hello again,” Sunset added, in a fondly-meant imitation of Pyrrha’s sing-song voice.

“Nice to see you again!” Skystar chirruped cheerily.

“So that leaves Yang Xiao Long and Blake Belladonna,” Weiss said.

“What’s up?” Yang asked with a wave of one hand.

“Good afternoon,” Blake said, inclining her head a little.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Skystar declared. “Thank you so much for all your service.”

Yang let out a little nervous laugh as she scratched the back of her head. “Come on, let’s not go nuts about all this.”

Weiss continued. “Everyone, this is Skystar Aris, daughter of First Councillor Novo Aris and Amity Princess of this year’s Vytal Festival. She’ll be the one responsible for representing Vale and for organising all of the festivities. The amount of planning and preparation that you’re putting into all of this must be breathtaking.”

“I have some help from my mom’s people,” Skystar admitted. “But yes, everyone’s working so hard on a great programme that’s going to blow everyone away. We’re going to have dances, parades, open-air theatre… I just hope it’s enough.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Rainbow declared breezily. “After all, it’s only the tournament that anyone really cares about.”

“Rainbow Dash!” hissed Weiss.

“I mean, uh, that other stuff sounds pretty cool as well,” Rainbow added.

“I hope so,” Skystar murmured wistfully. She took a step away from Weiss. “I mean, Atlas set a really high bar last time.” She sighed. “The Amity Princess is more than just a crown. It’s a promise to bring people together and never let anybody down.”

If this was Equestria, she’d probably have started singing by now, Sunset thought. Thinking about it like that, she almost wished that Skystar would start singing. Sunset… kind of missed having the music and song all around like it was in Equestria.

Perhaps that explained the sudden urge she felt to tell Skystar ‘you got this.’

“Well, if there’s anything that I can do to help, you know that you only need to ask,” Weiss offered.

“Oh, Weiss, that’s so kind of you.”

“Are these two old friends?” Blake asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sunset murmured. “Skystar is Cardin’s girlfriend.”

“Cardin has a girlfriend?” Yang exclaimed.

Skystar and Weiss both looked at her.

“Dude has good taste,” Yang added, looking away.

“What really worries me is that the Vacuans are going to get bored,” Skystar said. “I mean, they’re arriving so early; nothing is scheduled to start until next semester!”

“They can make their own fun, like me and my team,” Rainbow said.

“Wait wait wait wait,” Yang demanded, holding up both hands. “Vacuans? You mean there are Shade students arriving here today?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Skystar confirmed. “Quite a shock, I have to say. Apparently, their ship is scheduled to dock some time today, so I’m making sure that everything is ready to welcome them.”

“And when Skystar told me, I thought that, as representatives of Beacon Academy - and Atlas, I suppose - it was our duty to come down to the docks and join Skystar in extending our welcome to those poor unfortunates from the desert.”

“'Poor unfortunates'?” Blake murmured.

“Why do they call it Shade Academy?” Rainbow asked.

Sunset, who knew what was coming, shook her head. Yang shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Because everyone’s always throwing Shade on it!” Rainbow declared. She was met by a stunned silence from Blake and Yang. “Okay, that joke absolutely kills it in Atlas.”

“I’m sure it does,” Blake muttered.

“I have to go now,” Skystar said. “So much stuff still to do. Have a good day, everyone! And thanks again for everything, Weiss! Silverstream is going to be thrilled!”

“I’ll be in touch!” Weiss called after her as Skystar dashed off. She turned around to see Sunset, with her arms folded, staring at her. “What?” Weiss demanded.

“That poor, naïve girl has no idea that you’ve manipulated her, does she?” Sunset asked.

Weiss gasped. “Excuse me? I have not manipulated anyone!”

“You’ve gotten her to give you inside track information on the Vytal Festival-”

“And in return, I’m giving her things that mean a great deal to her and her family,” Weiss replied. “I wasn’t lying about those industry contacts, for your information. I fully intend to put Silverstream in touch with my last producer. And if that means that I can-”

“Scope out the competition as they come in,” Sunset said. She grinned. “Hey, I’m not criticising. I wish I had the connections to pull that off.”

“It’s called quid pro quo, and it keeps the world turning,” Weiss said. “There is absolutely nothing shameful about it.” She turned on her heel and stalked away, the snow crunching underneath her feet.

“I never said there was,” Sunset said as she and the others followed.

Rainbow wrinkled her nose. “Is it me, or is anyone else getting a really bad smell of fish?”

“We are near the docks,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, but come on,” Rainbow moaned.

They reached the docks, which were currently looking pretty empty and vacant. Sunset had read that the docks of Vale had once been the busiest in the whole of Remnant, but now, most travel and transport was by air, and the shallow seas around Vale meant that the largest blue-water craft couldn’t fit in the docks in any case, so the Valish wharfs were a mere shadow of their former glory, mostly tending to Vale's fishing fleet. Aside from those fishing vessels, there was only a single ship currently docked, a long cargo vessel of some kind with an empty deck. The five students wandered along the promenade, Sunset’s finger tips scraping the cold iron of the railings separating them from a dip in the sea, until they heard a shout of "Stop that faunus!" coming from the ship.

They all turned, watching as a young man in a white shirt – that he had left unbuttoned – leapt from the ship to land with a roll upon the low wooden jetty below. He ran down the jetty, pursued by the cries of the sailors aboard ship, vaulting over the iron rails to mount the steps leading up from the docks onto the promenade, which he took three at a time.

His skin was a little tanned by the sun, and his blue jeans were ragged and torn, but his red vambraces and the staff he carried lightly in one hand looked well-maintained. His eyes were a clear blue, like a tropical ocean, and his unkempt hair was a sandy blond. A monkey tail swayed gently behind him. He ran up the steps and stopped, an easy grin coming to his face.

“Nice afternoon for a walk, huh?” he asked.

“Hey!” a couple of sailors had descended from the boat and were even now in pursuit. “Come back here, you no good stowaway.”

“Or a run,” the monkey faunus said. He winked at Blake and then took to his heels, disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

The sailors, by contrast, were visibly out of breath by the time they climbed the steps up onto the promenade.

“Why-” one of them gasped. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Because I missed the part where that’s my problem,” Sunset replied.

“That no good filthy-”

Sunset folded her arms and looked at the man with a look that suggested he really didn’t want to go there as her tail swished behind her. Even Rainbow Dash looked a little put out.

The sailor was not completely stupid. “Ah, forget it,” he snapped, turning away and beginning to walk off in the opposite direction. “Damn stowaway.”

Sunset turned her back on him. “Well, if the Shade students are coming today, they’re not here right now, so why don’t we get some coffee or something and see if they turn up later?”

“Sounds good to me,” Yang said.

“Me too,” Rainbow agreed.

“I suppose there’s nothing else for it,” Weiss said, slightly regretfully.

“Blake?” Sunset asked.

Blake looked a little spaced out, a touch of colour had risen to her cheeks, and her eyes were unfocussed.

Sunset smirked. “I see, you’re one of those girls.”

“One of what girls?” Weiss asked.

“Hopeless romantics,” Sunset lied.

“What? No, that’s not it at all, I just,” Blake cried, recovering herself a little. “I mean, um, yeah, going for drinks sounds fine.”

Sunset sniggered but didn’t tease the poor girl any more as the party continued to drift across the promenade. Their progress was arrested when they came across a sight that put a bit of a dampener on Skystar’s welcome preparations.

It was a dust shop, and like so many across the city, it had been robbed, and recently too. The yellow police tape across the shattered window was still fresh, and there was a small crowd watching the two detectives examining the crime scene.

Drawn by curiosity and with nothing better to do right now on their Friday afternoon with the Shade students nowhere in evidence, the five huntresses wandered towards the crime scene.

“What happened?” Yang asked.

One of the detectives, a heavyset man with a full beard, glanced at her. “Robbery, what does it look like?” he said. “Second dust shop hit this week.”

“'This week'?” Sunset repeated. “They’re getting faster.” Perhaps Ruby was right; nobody seems to be doing anything about this.

“They left the money again,” the other cop, younger and with messy dark hair, declared. “Just like all the rest. Gods damn pattern. Who needs this much dust?”

“An army?”

“You thinking the White Fang?”

“I’m thinking if this is part of some kind of crime wave, then it ain’t our problem. Write it up, hand it off to Major Crimes, and let’s go get a beer,” the heavyset detective said, ducking under the police tape and wandering off, leaving his partner to run after him.

“Vale’s Finest,” Sunset muttered.

“Hmph,” Weiss muttered. “The White Fang. Such an awful bunch of degenerates.”

“What’s your problem?” Blake demanded.

“Oh no,” Sunset muttered, putting her head in her hands because she knew, she knew with absolute certainty that-

“What’s her problem?” Rainbow snapped. “Weiss doesn’t have a problem, she’s talking perfect sense.”

Blake began, “The White Fang are a misguided-”

“The White Fang,” Rainbow interrupted, “are a terrorist group, they’re a collection of scum and murderers-”

“They’re fighting for the equality of the faunus!”

“Oh, come on!” Rainbow yelled. “I have put up with some crap out of you, but I’m about to reach my limit.”

“Your limit?” Blake repeated. “Your limit?”

“I don’t know where you get your ideas from, but you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, you naïve... little girl!”

“'Naïve'?” Blake cried. “I’m naïve? You’re the one who believes that your good friends on the Atlas Council are going to solve the problems of faunus rights! If you’re so worried about the White Fang, then tell General Ironwood to stop throwing us chicken feed and start giving us equality and justice!”

Us? Sunset thought. Did she just say ‘us’?

Rainbow didn’t appear to notice; she was too angry to notice little details like that. She bared her teeth, growling as she stomped angrily towards Blake. “What did you say?”

“The methods of the White Fang may be a little extreme, but they wouldn’t rob a dust shop in the middle of Vale,” Blake declared. “The White Fang only attacks those who deserve it.”

The White Fang killed Flash’s father, Sunset thought. He had been… Flash hadn’t explained everything, but he’d been some kind of pencil pusher for the military, procurement or something. He’d been in Crystal City to witness the testing of some new equipment, but the White Fang had bombed the R&D facility. Even if Flash is a bigot, he didn’t deserve to lose his father. He might not have become a bigot if he hadn’t; he was so kind otherwise. A kind boy who didn’t deserve what the White Fang did to him.

Sunset was roused from her thoughts by the sound of a smack, as Rainbow’s first slammed into Blake’s jaw hard enough to knock the smaller girl to the ground.

“You little-” Rainbow snarled, and might have done more if Yang hadn’t grabbed her from behind and pinned her arms from behind. “Let go of me, Yang!” Rainbow shouted as she struggled in vain against the embrace, her ears flat with fury against the top of her head. “I’m going to kick this punk’s ass around the block!”

“Can’t do that,” Yang muttered, as she strained to hold Rainbow back.

Weiss looked very sorry that she had ever started this conversation. “Rainbow Dash, I’m not a fan of the White Fang either, but maybe we should try to calm down?”

“Scootaloo was nine years old!” Rainbow yelled. “So were Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle. Nine year old girls who loved their sisters and never hurt anybody in their lives and were excited to be flower girls! What had they done to deserve it, huh? What about Fluttershy, or Pinkie, or Rarity? What about Twilight? What had any of them done to deserve the White Fang trying to kill them? You look me in the eye and tell me why those kids deserved to die!”

“'Nine year old girls,'” Yang said. “What are you talking about?”

“The Canterlot Wedding,” Weiss murmured.

“They didn’t actually die,” Sunset said. “But not for lack of trying from the White Fang, from what I heard.”

“I…” Blake stammered, shaking her head even as she climbed to her feet off the ground. “Chrysalis was an extremist; she doesn’t represent-”

“I never said anything about Chrysalis,” Rainbow said, her voice cutting like a knife.

Blake’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

If looks could kill, then Rainbow’s glare would have already turned Blake to ashes. “The name of the White Fang commander wasn’t released to the public in the wake of the incident. Which means there aren’t too many ways that you could know that. Either someone with military clearance told you… or you’re one of them.”

For a moment, they were all still, a frozen tableaux, suspended on the edge of the precipice, like one of those cartoons where the cat hasn’t realised there’s no more cliff beneath his feet just yet.

Yang’s grip on Rainbow Dash began to loosen as Yang herself looked completely befuddled.

Weiss took a step back, one hand reaching slowly towards Myrtenaster at her hip. “Blake? Is that true?”

Blake also took a step backwards. “It’s not what you think. I… I…” She turned away, fleeing down the street in the direction of the promenade.

Rainbow broke free from Yang’s restraint and started to pursue, her rainbow trailing out behind her- until she ran smack into the shield that Sunset had conjured all around her.

“Sunset!” Rainbow roared, rounding on her with fury in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Repaying a debt,” Sunset said, as she stood with one hand raised, wreathed with green as she sustained the magical shield around Dash. She kept the Atlesian girl restrained until Blake had disappeared from sight, just as Blake had once led the grimm away so that Sunset and the others could reach their objective.

Only when Blake was away did Sunset drop the shield.

With a wordless growl, Rainbow closed the distance between the two of them in an instant, driving her fist into Sunset’s gut hard enough to knock her to the ground. She clutched her stomach; she had felt that right through her aura.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Rainbow demanded.

Sunset was still clutching her stomach as she got up. “Saved you from doing something you’ll regret.”

“Give me a break!” Rainbow snapped. She pulled out her scroll and managed to dial despite the fact that her hands were shaking. “Ciel! Where’s Twilight?”

“In the library, with Penny and the subordinate members of Team Sapphire.”

“Secure her immediately, then arm yourself and head over to the CCT - with Twilight and Penny - and wait there until I arrive,” Rainbow ordered. “Blake Belladonna is a White Fang infiltrator; you’re to shoot on sight. I’ll take responsibility.”

“Understood,” Ciel replied. “I’m on the move now.”

“What… what just happened?” Yang murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

And what’s going to happen now? Sunset wondered.

Hunters, Searchers, Runaways (New)

Author's Note

Check out this art of this chapter by the very talented Rainbow Zebra

Hunters, Searchers, Runaways (New)

Hunters, Searchers, Runaways

“Twilight! No!”

“Applejack, get the door!”

“What are we going to do?”

“Rarity, put some pressure on that wound.”

“Twilight, we need comms back online asap!”

“I’m trying my best!”

“I’m scared, Rainbow Dash.”

“I promise you won’t die.”

Rainbow Dash scowled, and her hands clenched into fists as the elevator climbed up to the top of the tower. She didn’t want these memories, she didn’t want to think back to that day. But after what had happened with Blake, after finding out what Blake Belladonna really was, she just couldn’t get it out of her head.

She didn’t want these memories because she didn’t want to remember what had really happened that day. When she wasn’t really thinking about it she could play the whole thing off, play it cool, talk about how awesome she’d been and how she – with a little help from Twilight and their friends – had totally saved Cadance and Shining Armour from the White Fang. When she wasn’t really thinking about it she could act like she’d kicked butt, and wonder to herself why she hadn’t gotten the chance to go to the Academy two years early when she’d done something much more awesome than Ruby with her stopping three guys from robbing a dust shop.

But when Rainbow actually thought about it, as she was forced to think about it now, when she actually stopped to remember what it had really been like at ground zero of what they called the Canterlot Wedding, what Rainbow remembered wasn’t how awesome she or anyone else had been. What she remembered was the fear. The fear in the eyes of Scootaloo as she confessed that she was afraid to die at the hands of those who called themselves her liberators. The fear as Vice-Principal Luna kept on bleeding out in spite of everything that Fluttershy or Rarity could do to stop it. The fear of everyone she cared about, dressed in their tattered, blood-stained wedding finery, all crammed into a side room in the registrar’s office as the White Fang tried to break down the door and Twilight tried to rebuild a radio into a transmitter so they could get a distress signal out.

The fear of knowing that if Twilight hadn’t managed to pull off a technological miracle and call in the cavalry then all the people she loved in the world would have died and there was nothing that Rainbow could have done to stop it… nothing except die with them.

“So, you had your first taste of action earlier than I would have liked,” General Ironwood said, as he stood with his back to Rainbow Dash, looking out of the window as the White Fang captives were loaded up onto transports to take them to processing. His hands were clasped behind his back. “How was it?”

Rainbow sniffed. She wished that the General hadn’t wanted to talk to her right now, she didn’t really want him to see her like this. And yet, at the same time, she couldn’t lie. Not to the general, not after all he’d done for her. Even if he thought that he’d made a mistake in backing a coward like her, he deserved to know the truth.

“I… I was scared, sir,” she admitted, in a very quiet voice.

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. Rainbow could only imagine how disappointed he must be in her. “Scared of dying?”

“Scared of losing everything that matters, sir,” Rainbow replied. “I… I don’t know if I’m cut out for this after all, General.”

“Because you have something to lose?” General Ironwood asked. He paused. “Tell me something, Rainbow Dash? If only those with nothing to lose went out to fight, what would they be fighting for?”

Rainbow blinked. “For the glory of Atlas, sir?”

General Ironwood sighed. “Glory is all very well, but it won’t hold a man when the fear sets in, the fear like you felt today. Everyone has something lose, Rainbow Dash; it’s just another way of saying you have something to protect.”

“But… but I was scared, sir,” Rainbow repeated. “You don’t need a soldier who gets scared when the fighting starts.”

General Ironwood turned around, and Rainbow Dash could see his face. It wasn’t stern, as he’d imagined. Rather, as the General advanced upon her, casting a shadow over her, Rainbow almost thought that he looked sad.

She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her and clasped her to him, her head resting on his chest.

“The lives of your family were in danger today,” General Ironwood said, his voice soft and tender. “I don’t know a single man in this army who wouldn’t be scared in a situation like that. But you kept your head, kept everyone alive in spite of your fear, even Luna. You’re just a child, but you fought an adult’s fight today; you should be proud of that, and tell your friends that they should be proud too.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Rainbow murmured. “Thank you, sir.”

“There’s no shame in being scared, Rainbow Dash,” General Ironwood declared. “Only in letting the fear rule you.”

General Ironwood had been kind about it at the time, but Rainbow thought that that was probably the reason why the General had kept Rainbow in combat school those extra two years instead of letting her in early like Professor Ozpin had done with Ruby. Rainbow had needed those two years to grow out of being scared, to arrive in Atlas purged of her weaknesses.

She wasn’t scared now. She was angry.

The White Fang, here in Beacon! Right under Professor Ozpin’s nose! Who knew what damage Blake had already done, how much poison she’d spread. There was no telling how many of the students she had already begun to radicalise.

“What are all these pamphlets, G?”

“They’re the truth, Dash.”

“The truth about what?”

“The truth about who is really running the world and how they’re keeping us down. The truth about what we have to do to stop it! Open your eyes, Dash, we need to stand up and fight!”

Yeah, that stuff could be pretty enticing to the right sort of people. And the rot had had six weeks to spread.

That was why, having left her team downstairs in the CCT lobby, where the White Fang would have to be insane to try anything, she was on her way up to see Professor Ozpin.

Not the person she would have liked to be talking to at a time like this, but the person that she had to talk to.

Hopefully once she started to talk she could push a few of these memories to the back of her mind.

The doors to the elevator opened, and Rainbow Dash stepped out into the Headmaster’s office. It was about the same size as General Ironwood’s office back home in Atlas, maybe just a little smaller; like the General’s office it offered a grand view of the campus down below and the city beyond, and like General Ironwood’s office it was mostly empty. All of this space and it was going unused except for the desk. Rainbow wondered if there was some kind of rule that said that headmasters weren’t allowed any possessions.

When I become Headmaster of Atlas, I’m going to put posters up on the walls, and a picture of my friends on my desk. And I’m going to have plants and I’m going to make the students water them for me.

Actually, that last one might be a security risk.

Rainbow put those thoughts aside as she advanced towards Professor Ozpin where he sat at his desk. She wished that she were back in Atlas for this. She would have known how to talk to General Ironwood, and more importantly she would have known that General Ironwood would listen to her, and take her seriously. She didn’t know Professor Ozpin, and she wasn’t sure what he’d do.

She stopped in front of his desk, hands clasped behind her back. Professor Ozpin looked up from his work, and affected to seem as though he had only just noticed her. “Ah, Miss Dash, yes. Now, what can I do for you?”

“Sir,” Rainbow said. “I have reason to believe that Blake Belladonna is a White Fang agent.”

“’Agent’ implies that she has some ongoing relationship with the group, Miss Dash, my understanding is that she has left their ranks,” Professor Ozpin replied.

Rainbow stared, stunned into silence. She couldn’t have been more surprised if Pinkie had suddenly appeared in the headmaster’s office to throw a party – and that would have been a welcome surprise, unlike what Rainbow was feeling right now. “You… you knew?”

“There is little that goes on at Beacon that escapes my notice, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin replied blithely. “I am aware of many things, not all of which I choose to disclose to the students.”

“You knew that she was White Fang and you let her in anyway?” Rainbow demanded.

“’Was’, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin said pointedly.

“With all due respect, sir-“

“When someone begins ‘with all due respect’ it is usually a sign they are about to be rather disrespectful,” Ozpin observed wryly, a smile playing upon his features.

“You’ve been letting a terrorist stay in your school, sir,” Rainbow snapped. “In the same school where my friend is!”

“Please do not suggest that I don’t take the safety of every student at Beacon very seriously, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice acquiring a touch of steel to it. “There is nothing more important to me.”

Rainbow swallowed. “You have a funny way of showing it, sir.”

“Tell me, Miss Dash, what makes you think that Miss Belladonna is an active member of the White Fang?”

“She’s defended their actions.”

“Surely an infiltrator would be smarter than to give herself away so easily, dare I say childishly?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“People make mistakes, sir.”

“Indeed they do,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “Like so frightening people that they flee rather than defend themselves.”

“I don’t regret what I did when confronted with a terrorist, sir,” Rainbow said staunchly. “Even if she only used to be a member of the White Fang, it’s still bad enough. How could you let someone like that into Beacon?”

Professor Ozpin picked up a scroll of his desk and began to read from it. “Vandalism, shoplifting-“

“I was a kid, sir, the White Fang were still a peaceful protest group when I last broke the law,” Rainbow said. “And I was never a terrorist.”

“No, but the point remains the same,” Professor Ozpin said. “I believe in the power of second chances, just as General Ironwood does.”

“So you’re going to do nothing?” Rainbow demanded, as she contemplated whether she could zoom around the headmaster’s desk and hit him. Probably not, you didn’t get made headmaster of a combat academy for nothing.

“If Miss Belladonna does not return for class on Monday morning then I shall be forced to do something,” Professor Ozpin said, without explaining what that something might be. “Until then I do not see that there is anything I can, or should, do. Was there anything else you wished to discuss, Miss Dash?”

Rainbow scowled. “No sir.”

Penny had been with Ruby, Pyrrha and Jaune when Ciel and Twilight had come to get her, so they too were waiting in the lobby of the CCT with Sunset, the remaining members of Team Rospetal, Yang and Weiss. They were drawing some attention, such a large gathering of students clustered together on the ground floor of the tower, not doing anything; but there was no rule forbidding them to be here, and so no one questioned them or told them to move on as they waited beside one of the green pools that lined the edges of the room.

Ruby glanced towards the elevators. “What do you think she’s saying to Professor Ozpin?”

“I imagine she’s telling him everything,” Twilight replied.

“Everything that she suspects,” Yang said pointedly.

“If it isn’t true then why did Blake run?” Weiss asked. “If there was another explanation then why didn’t she give it? Unfortunately, being a member of the White Fang… it makes perfect sense given Blake’s pattern of behaviour since the Atlesians arrived.”

“Once the Atlesian military arrived,” Sunset corrected. “She was fine around you, and… okay, she didn’t spend much time with Lyra and Bon Bon but they didn’t really want to spend much time with her, either. I don’t believe that she’s some kind of spy in our midst.”

Weiss frowned. “Why not?”

“Because she was really bad at it, if she was one,” Sunset answered. “What kind of spy would be so obnoxious to the person she was supposed to be spying on. Maybe there is some connection between Blake and the White Fang but I don’t think that she has a mask under her pillow.”

“I don’t know much about the White Fang,” Jaune admitted. “But would it be so bad if-“

“Yes,” Weiss cut him off stonily. “Yes, it would. If you don’t know much about the White Fang then allow me to fill you in: the White Fang has robbed SDC cargo trains, sabotaged SDC facilities, kidnapped and murdered members of the board of my father’s company. The war waged by the White Fang against my father has not improved his temperament these last five years.” She shivered involuntarily, and turned away from the rest of them.

Ruby approached her, her footsteps light upon the floor of the lobby, and put one hand upon Weiss’ shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re safe here.”

“Am I?” Weiss asked. “I trusted her.”

“Maybe…” Ruby hesitated. “Maybe you were right?”

Weiss looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sure that the White Fang have done terrible things to you and your family,” Ruby said, her voice gentle. “But that doesn’t mean that Blake has done any of those things, and it doesn’t mean that she deserves to be punished for her past. I don’t know Blake very well, but I know that she’s a huntsman of Beacon just like the rest of us. Doesn’t that mean that we should give her the benefit of the doubt, at least listen to what she has to say?”

“Generously spoken,” Pyrrha murmured. “Unfortunately the law is unlikely to display such nobility of spirit.”

“Do we have to get the police involved?” Ruby asked. “Do we have to tell anyone?”

“Rainbow’s up there right now, telling Professor Ozpin everything,” Sunset reminded.

“Does she have to?” Penny asked.

“Yes,” Ciel declared at once. “The White Fang are a proscribed organisation, banned in every kingdom, an organisation that aims at nothing less than the destruction of human society-“

“Do they?” Yang asked. “Or do they just want to be equal members of that society?”

“Weren’t you listening to Weiss?” Twilight demanded. “The White Fang kill people, they kidnap people, and they don’t care who they hurt in their struggle for ‘justice’.”

Yang pursed her lips. “You too, huh?”

Twilight inhaled through her nose. “Three years ago… my brother, Lieutenant Shining Armour, married newly-elected Councillor Cadenza. Only… it almost didn’t turn out that way. A White Fang agent, with a very powerful semblance allowing her to take the form of another person, kidnapped Cadance and attempted to replace her, even going through with the wedding to my brother. If I hadn’t noticed that something was off about her then the White Fang would have had an agent on the Council, able to dictate the policy of our kingdom.” Twilight trembled, and Penny looked unusually solemn as she put her arms around the other girl. “And when I exposed her… they switched to Plan B: kill everyone, including my friends’ little sisters who were there as flower girls.

“We weren’t there to fight. We hadn’t activated our auras, and before we could… they’d already wounded Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna. We had no weapons but what we could seize from the White Fang attacking us. We ended up barricaded in a room barely big enough to fit us all, trying to get word out so that we could be rescued before… before they killed us all. No matter what the rest of you have gone through I don’t think any of you have ever experienced anything like that before. No matter what the White Fang says about itself that is what the White Fang does. And that’s why they have to be stopped.” Twilight pinched her brow, as she pushed her glasses up her nose. “That being said… I am reluctant to condemn anyone without giving them a chance to defend themselves.”

The elevator door opened, and Rainbow Dash stomped out, her footsteps like peals of thunder. She was wearing her wings across her back, with her autopistols at her hips and her shotgun slung across her back, and her magenta eyes were as hard as diamonds.

A scowl had settled upon her face as she reached the group.

“What’s Professor Ozpin going to do?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing,” Rainbow spat.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Nothing?”

“He knew,” Rainbow declared. “He’s know all along and he’s not going to do anything about it because he believes in second chances.”

“Maybe,” Ruby ventured. “Maybe he has a point?”

Rainbow huffed, and seemed to pretend that she hadn’t heard that. “Of course he knew. I should have known. Belladonna, she didn’t even change her name!”

“So?” Yang asked. “It’s just a name.”

“Kali Belladonna is the wife of the Chieftain of Menagerie and former leader of the White Fang,” Rainbow explained. “Every month or two she runs a lottery to help faunus from Atlas or Mistral move to Menagerie, all expenses paid. A couple of old friends of my parents won last year. I’m such a moron!”

“We should contact General Ironwood,” Ciel said.

“No, we’re not contacting the general,” Rainbow replied.

Ciel frowned. “Is there a reason for not informing him of this?”

Rainbow licked her lips. “Because I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission.”

“What do you mean, Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked.

“I mean we’re going to find Blake Belladonna and bring her in,” Rainbow declared. “One way, or another.”

“For crying out loud,” Sunset exclaimed. “You can’t just-“

“That depends on her,” Rainbow cut her off. “And what she does when we find her.”

Sunset shook her head. “You won the wedding, in case you’ve forgotten. You don’t need to fight that battle all over again.”

Rainbow stared into Sunset’s eyes. Her own eyes seemed devoid of compassion. “Penny, Ciel, you’re with me,” she said. “Twilight, you’ll provide support with your drones from the dorm room. Weiss, I need to borrow Flash.”

“Why?” Weiss asked cautiously.

“I need somebody I can trust to watch over Twilight, but I need Ciel and Penny at my side,” Rainbow explained. “I know Flash, and I know I can rely on him.”

“Weiss,” Ruby murmured.

Weiss glanced at Ruby, before she nodded. “Very well. I’ll call him.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Penny said softly. “Are you sure about this? It doesn’t seem very-“

“I’m your team leader, Penny, and I’m giving you an order,” Rainbow declared, not looking at her. “Are you going to obey that order?”

Penny hesitated, but stood to attention. “I’m ready to serve, as commanded.”

The true face of Atlas, Sunset thought. She stepped forward, and took Rainbow by the arm. “Don’t do this,” she implored.

Rainbow glared at her for a moment, before she shook her arm free. “I’ll do what I have to do,” she insisted. The Atlesians departed, including Weiss; Rainbow’s heavy footsteps drowned out the lighter tread of those around them.

“They’re not serious, right?” Yang asked, and it took Sunset a moment to realise that she was looking to Sunset for reassurance. “She’s not really going to…”

Sunset didn’t reply. “Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, gear up and follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Pyrrha asked.

“We’re going to find Blake before the Atlesians do,” Sunset informed them. “And then we’re… we’re going to figure out the next step as we go.”

“Do you know where to look?” demanded Jaune.

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But neither do they, so we’re evenly matched in that.” She paused. “I’m not going to make you come, even if I could; but Ruby’s right, Blake is a Beacon huntress. And so I don’t like the idea of just standing by and letting Atlas have her way with her. Because… because Professor Ozpin’s right about second chances.” See how well I’m learning, Princess Celestia, Princess Twilight? I’m almost a good person now.

“I’m in,” Ruby said. “I mean… you are taking my suggestion, I can’t really not go.”

“I don’t like the idea of abandoning a comrade,” Pyrrha murmured. “And if we can spare Penny from having to do something she’ll regret, that will also be welcome.”

“I’m in to,” Jaune added. He grinned. “I mean, I can’t really step back now, can I? What am I going to do, sit in my room while you three search?” He paused. “Do you think… if we do find Blake… Rainbow seems pretty… obsessed. Do you think she-“

“I’m sure she wouldn’t go so far,” Pyrrha assured. “And… certainly Penny and Ciel would not.”

“I’ll search on Bumblebee,” Yang said. “I can cover more ground that way than you guys can on foot.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Ruby asked, a little anxiously.

Yang grinned. “Give me some credit, sis, I’ll be fine.” Her tone became a little more serious as she said, “Good luck out there.”

“Good luck to us,” Sunset replied. “Not such good luck to them.”

Flash stared at Rainbow in disbelief. “I… Blake is a member of the White Fang… I didn’t know her but still… the fact that she could sit there, eating with us, and all the while… it’s hard to believe.”

“You’d better believe it, because I sure do,” Rainbow said. “I’m going out to get her, with Ciel and Penny, I need you to stay here with Twilight while she provides back-up from here. I don’t think Blake will come back here, but… I don’t want to take any chances with Twi’s safety, you understand?”

Flash nodded. He was already armed and armoured for battle, resplendent in his gleaming armour, with Caliburn at his waist and his shield slung across his back. “I understand. Especially after what happened.”

After what happened. Rainbow clenched her hands into fists as she fought to push those memories away. Chrysalis had sworn revenge on Twilight as they were dragging her away, and although Atlas had locked her in a hole and then thrown away the key that didn’t mean that she didn’t have friends on the outside who wouldn’t try to take revenge for her. Rainbow wished that Applejack were here; she would have taken Rarity at this point, for all that she recognised that Flash was an objectively better fighter than Rarity. But Rarity wasn’t here, and neither was Applejack, and that meant that Rainbow would have to trust Flash.

He’s from Canterlot, he’s made of the right stuff.

“So, will you do it?” Rainbow asked.

Flash glanced away for a moment. “For a long time, all through Canterlot, I felt as though you were so far above me. You and Applejack in skills, Twilight in brains… I mean you are so far above. You were the ace of the whole school, and I was just… well, let’s just say that General Ironwood was never going to give me one on one tuition.” He grinned, if only for a moment. “But if there’s more I can do than just cheer you on, if there’s anything that I can do to help, then I’ll do it. You can rely on me.”

As flakes of snow began to gently fall, Blake drifted through the streets of Vale. Alone. Uncertain.

She should have known this day would come and yet she had not prepared for it. Not prepared for what she would do if her secret came out. She had focussed her mind and her ambitions upon becoming a huntress, as though a black bow would be enough to keep her secret for four years.

And now… now what? Where would she go? What would she do? What could she do?

Who was she now?

Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut?

“Hey there.”

Blake looked up, startled. It was the boy from earlier, the… the rather cute boy from the boat. He was standing in front of her, holding a red umbrella over her head to shield her from the lightly falling snow, looking at her with concern.

“It… it’s you,” Blake murmured.

He smiled. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be left alone, with no place to go,” he said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I… I really don’t know,” Blake admitted. “I don’t really know if there’s anything that anyone can do to help.”

The boy’s tail swished back and forth. “Will you at least let me try?”

Blake hesitated. She shouldn’t involve him in her problems, she shouldn’t drag anyone into affairs that could be trouble or even dangerous for him. But at the same time… at the same time she was tired of being alone. “I… I’d like that,” she said. “I mean… I’d like if you… stayed with me, if that’s okay.”

He smiled. He had a very kind smile, open and honest. He had kind eyes too; they were blue, like Adam’s eyes, but these eyes were kind, without a hint of cruelty or of cunning in them. “That’s fine by me.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sun.”

“Blake,” Blake said, and took his hand in hers.

The Book Broker (New)

The Book Broker

Sun – Sun Wukong, to give the full name that he had supplied to her – was holding the umbrella in the grip of his tail as he and Blake walked arm in arm down the street.

In spite of everything that had led up to this point, in spite of the fact that she might well be – probably was – a wanted fugitive, nevertheless, this… this was nice.

So nice that leaned into his arm, wrapping both her arms around his.

“This doesn’t bother you, does it?” she asked softly.

“Uh, no,” Sun said, though he sounded as though it surprised him. “So long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

Blake smiled, if a little sadly. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said something like that to her. She couldn’t remember the last time that anyone had put her first, her wants and desires above all else. That sounded selfish, when put into words, but at the same time… after Rainbow Dash, after Sienna Khan, after Adam, why shouldn’t she be glad that someone was willing to say to her ‘so long as you’re okay, I’m okay.’

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Sun said. “It’s the least I could do.”

Blake snorted. “The least you could do? Sun, you don’t even know who I am.”

“You don’t know who I am,” Sun replied. “But you trust me, right?”

He had her there. “I… I guess,” Blake accepted. “I suppose… you’ve got one of those manners that says you can be trusted.”

“And you’ve got one of those manners that says that you’ve got a lot going on and could use all the help you can get.”

“That’s… not entirely inaccurate,” Blake admitted.

The air had warmed up a little, and the snow had turned to rain which pitter-pattered off the top of Sun’s umbrella. One advantage of Blake leaning on Sun was that they were now close enough that said umbrella could cover them both without him having to get wet for her sake.

“So,” Sun started, “why are we going to this bookshop?”

“The owner… is something of an old friend,” Blake said carefully. “In fact, he’s about the only person I know in this city. So, unless you have a place to stay for the night…”

Sun laughed nervously. “Uh, not exactly. I was kind of hoping that something would turn up. In my experience, it usually does.” He paused. “And it did, because I met you, and you know someone who can put us up. See how that works?”

Blake smiled. “Is that really how you go through life?”

“Pretty much,” Sun said. “'Footloose and fancy free,' is what my buddy Neptune calls it.”

“That sounds about right.”

“He also says I’m an idiot.”

Blake chuckled, covering her mouth with her free hand. “He might have a point there too. But you’re an idiot with a good heart, and that… I’m grateful for that.” She paused. “Sun?”

“Yeah?”

“What brings you to Vale in the first place?”

“I’m here for the Vytal Festival,” Sun said casually.

Blake looked at him. “You’re a student?”

“Yup,” Sun said. “Sun Wukong, leader of Team Sun of Haven.”

Blake blinked. “Then what are you doing here so early? And stowed away aboard a cargo ship? And where is the rest of your team?”

“Well, we’re a team from Haven, so I guess that they’re still in Haven,” Sun suggested. “As for the other two, well… it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“'Footloose and fancy free,'” Blake murmured.

Sun laughed. "That might be a little nicer than anything Neptune will have to say to me once the guys get here."

"I can understand why," Blake replied, "but, for whatever it's worth, I'm glad you came."

Sun didn't say anything for a moment or two. "It's worth a lot," he said.

They arrived at Tukson's Book Trade; the lights were off inside, and for a moment, Blake was worried that they had arrived too late and that Tukson had already locked up for the evening. But when she pushed against the door, she found that it opened for her, and she was able to step inside. Sun folded up the umbrella before following. A little bell over the door tinkled to announce their presence.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," Tukson's voice preceded him into the room. The doors from the back swung open as the man himself emerged. "I was just about to- Blake?"

"Hey," Blake said, her voice soft and a little melancholy. "I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but..."

Tukson's expression dissolved into a look of sympathetic misery. "You're in some kind of trouble."

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Blake replied.

Tukson rested his hands upon the counter. A sigh fell from his lips. "Your secret got out, huh?"

Blake nodded. "I know that I'm asking a lot of you, and if you tell me to go, then I will, but-"

"No," Tukson said immediately. "No, Blake, I won't do that. Like you said, you've got nowhere else to go. I'm not about to throw you out into the rain like a stray." He glanced at Sun. "Who's this?"

"You've heard of the kindness of strangers," Blake presumed.

"I've heard about it," Tukson replied. "The same way I've heard about lost cities in the Vacuo desert."

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards for a moment. "He's the stranger."

"Pleasure to meet you... sir?" Sun ventured. To Blake, he whispered, "Is this your dad?"

Tukson snorted. "No, son, I'm not her father. Her father's much bigger and scarier than I am."

"Uh... good to know?"

Tukson shook his head. "You two head back, stay out of sight. I'll lock up and then... are you hungry?"

Blake's stomach answered for her, growling aggressively at the mention of hunger.

Tukson chuckled. "I'll fix up some supper, and we can talk."

"Thank you," Blake murmured. She repeated it, more loudly, "Thank you, so much."

"Don't mention it," Tukson said, waving away her gratitude with one hand. "People like us have to stick together, right?"

"I suppose," Blake said softly.

Tukson lifted up the slat on the left-hand side of the counter so that he could venture out into the main body of the store, while Blake and Sun could head the opposite way. As Sun got behind the counter, he stopped, staring at the double-barreled sawn-off shotgun underneath the register.

"Is it normal for bookstore owners to have guns in this town?" he asked.

"You've obviously never met a literature critic," Tukson replied breezily as he reached the front door and started locking up.

Blake led Sun through the double doors behind the counter, through the backroom crammed high with piles of books and cardboard boxes loaded with the same, and into Tukson's kitchen, where a little wooden table sat upon a black tiled floor, with an oven sat against the wall and an old fashioned kettle resting on the hob. Blake sat in the chair facing the door, leaving Sun to take the other chair with his back to said door. He rested his arms upon the table, looking at her, waiting for her to speak.

Blake didn't, not yet. First, she got out her scroll and checked her messages. She'd set her scroll to silent, so she hadn't seen the notifications. She had a few messages, although Blake was a little surprised that they had come from Sunset Shimmer.

Where are you?

Whatever your real story is, we can deal with it if we know where you are.

Ozpin knew who you were, in case you didn’t know. He’s on your side. Or apathetic, at least.

Rainbow Dash has made up her mind about you. She's looking for you, and she's going to kill you. Literally. As in with bullets. But we can protect you if we know where you are.

Blake put the scroll away without replying.

"Bad news?" Sun asked.

"Nothing I didn't know already," Blake replied softly. "Like you said, I'm in trouble."

"But... why?" Sun asked. "I mean, everything seemed fine when I saw you this morning."

They didn't know about my past this morning. Everything had seemed fine for Blake, just as everything had seemed fine for Ilia at her fancy Atlesian prep school… right up until it wasn’t. Right until they found out who, and what, Ilia really was. Right until they found out what Blake really was. Perhaps… would it be the same in this case, too? Blake hesitated. She didn't know how Sun would feel about any of this; for all she knew, once she told him the truth, he would reject her, just like her Beacon classmates had.

A part of her mind pointed out that he was a faunus like her. A much bigger part of her mind pointed out that she had made the same mistake with Rainbow Dash, and now, the girl was trying to kill her. Sun could be exactly the same.

But she had trusted him this far, and he hadn't needed to be there for her; nobody had forced him to. Surely, he deserved to know why she was in trouble, especially if that trouble now meant there was an angry Atlesian huntress-in-training roaming Vale looking for her. And she hadn't been lying when she said that he seemed like a trustworthy person. "Sun," she said, "do you know anything about the White Fang?"

Sun snorted. "Come on, Blake, everyone's heard of the White Fang. Bunch of jackasses who use force to get whatever they want it."

"It wasn't like that," Blake protested. "At least... it wasn't supposed to be like that." She bowed her head and reached for the bow that rested on top of it. She pulled it off, revealing her feline ears underneath. "I was once a member of the White Fang."

She looked up. Sun, to his credit, didn't look horrified, or scared of her. He looked surprised, to be sure, but not as though he was only seeing her for the first time now.

"You were a member?" he said. "But... you're so young!"

Blake smiled, but only for a moment. "You could say that I was born into the White Fang. Of course, back then, it wasn't what it eventually became. The White Fang was founded after the revolution to be a force for equality between humans and faunus. It was open to anyone, of any race, with the only requirement being that they were passionate about justice. In that way, it was hoped that the White Fang would be a symbol of unity and peace." Blake frowned. "But despite having promised the faunus equality, many humans still considered the faunus to be lesser beings, undeserving of rights or justice." She looked at Sun. "You're from Haven, I can't believe you don't know what I'm talking about."

Sun shrugged. "It happens. Some things you can't change, so you'd better get used to them, right?"

"I refused to accept that," Blake declared. "I still refuse to accept that. The White Fang was founded upon a refusal to accept it. All through my childhood, and for many years before, the White Fang attempted to use peaceful measures to make our point. We rallied, we marched, we organised boycotts, and I was there for all of it... I was there as nothing changed. We might as well have been shouting into the darkness for all the good it was doing."

"So you stopped shouting... and started shooting," Sun said quietly.

"You could say that," Blake acknowledged. "Five years ago, my... our leader stepped down, and Sienna Khan took his place. She promised results, and she proposed to get those results through the use of violence. At first, it was just a matter of setting fire to businesses that refused to serve faunus, of hijacking cargo belonging to companies that exploited faunus labour... and it seemed to be working, at a cost. The four kingdoms declared the White Fang a terrorist group, the Atlesian military began to hunt us down like animals, but we were winning concessions at the same time. Companies and businesses we targeted cleaned up their acts, and it didn't matter that they were doing it out of fear; the list of organisations that defied the White Fang got smaller every month. But our methods got more extreme every year. Bombings, kidnapping and murder, acceptance of collateral damage... I told Rainbow Dash that the White Fang only went after those who deserved to be targeted, but the truth is, that hasn't been true for some time now, and I couldn't take it anymore. So I left, hiding my identity behind a black bow and dedicating myself to becoming a huntress, where I could use my skills in a more worthy cause."

"Until you got found out," Sun said.

Blake nodded slightly. "You can take the girl out of the White Fang, but you can't take away her instinct to defend them or her hostility to the Atlesian military." She frowned. "Tukson, how long are you going to stand out there listening? You already know this story."

"I just wanted to understand what you were telling the boy," Tukson said as he walked into the kitchen. Sun started to get up, but Tukson waved him down. "Keep your seat, it's fine." He walked over to the old kettle, picked it up and carried it to the sink, where he started to fill it with water. "You want some tea?"

"Thank you," Blake murmured.

"Sure," Sun said. He hesitated. "So... were you in the White Fang, too?"

Tukson turned the tap off. "You heard Blake; it wasn't always like this. I signed up for peaceful protests, but I was okay with breaking a few windows, setting fire to a few empty businesses. We were making our point, but nobody was getting hurt." He carried the kettle back to the hob, set it down, and lit the oven. A ring of blue flames appeared beneath the kettle as the fire dust powder began to burn. "But I wasn't much of a fighter, and when they started to hand out guns, I... slipped away. It was easier to leave at first; as things escalated, the High Leader was more understanding of those who didn't have the stomach to stick around. I was pretty much allowed to walk away. Blake..."

"It wasn't quite that simple for me," Blake murmured.

Tukson nodded. He left the kettle to get on with boiling as he opened up a cupboard and pulled out a trio of mugs, then went to another cupboard to retrieve a box of teabags. "I hope no one minds store brand, it's all I've got. So... they know about you at Beacon?"

"They know what I was," Blake agreed. "Some of them are looking for me. I should probably-"

"No, you don't have to leave," Tukson said. "Whatever comes, I can take it." The kettle began to boil, and Tukson turned his back upon the young huntsmen as he poured the tea. "But you do need to decide what you're going to do next."

"I hear Vacuo is nice... and remote," Blake muttered.

"It has its charms," Sun informed her. "It's got its share of flaws too, but at least folks don't seem to care if you're a faunus."

"That's... good to know," Blake said. "Although I'd rather not run away to Vacuo to hide."

Tukson poured the tea. "I know Blake takes milk but no sugar, but how about you, kid?"

"Two sugars, please."

As Tukson finished off the tea, he said, "You know, Blake... you could always-"

"No," Blake cut him off. "No, I can't go back there."

"Can't?" Tukson asked. "Or won't?"

"Some things can't be unsaid," Blake told him. "And I don't want to cause any more trouble for them. Not to mention, there's no way of knowing if they'd even want me back."

Tukson sighed. "You know they'd take you back in a heartbeat."

"No," Blake replied, her voice soft but unyielding. "I don't know that."

"What are you guys talking about?" Sun asked.

"Nothing," Blake said immediately, and she was thankful that that appeared to be enough for Sun to drop the subject. She paused. "Tukson, I know that you still have a few contacts in the White Fang... do you know anything about these robberies that have been going on in Vale?"

She waited for him to say that he did not, that he knew nothing, that none of his remaining White Fang contacts had even mentioned the issue to him. She waited for him to tell her that all the suspicions of Weiss and Rainbow Dash were groundless, driven by prejudice and groundless suspicion.

She waited, but as Tukson carried the mugs of tea over to the table and set them down in front of Blake and Sun with soft thuds, she could not help but note that his expression was grim. "You're not going to want to hear this," he said finally.

Blake's eyes widened. "It's true?"

"That's what I hear," Tukson said, leaning against his fridge as he sipped at his tea. "From what my sources tell me, it's the main focus of activity for the White Fang at the moment."

"Robbery?" Blake demanded. "How is robbing downtown dust shops going to lead to equality for the faunus?"

"Prejudiced dust shop owners?" Sun suggested.

"If that were the case, then they would have simply destroyed the shops," Blake replied. "The White Fang... we stole dust in the past, for obvious reasons, but the amount that's being stolen now, and in such a short amount of time... there must be enough dust to keep the Vale Chapter supplied for a year or more already."

"Maybe not," Tukson replied. "The other thing I hear is that recruitment efforts have been stepped up recently. A lot of new blood coming in."

"Why?" Blake asked. The White Fang had never emphasised raw numbers in the past; new recruits were brought in slowly, in recognition of the fact that they were likely to be of poor quality in a fight and that there weren't the resources to arm or train them. The White Fang operated using guerilla tactics, inflicting small but painful bites upon the mighty but ponderous Atlesian behemoth opposed to them; raiding parties were small, and the few new recruits around at any one time learnt by being surrounded by seasoned, capable operatives. A swollen chapter might explain the need for dust, but what would explain the need for manpower? What was Adam planning to do with a horde of ill-trained dross? It wasn't as if he could overthrow Vale by main force, and Adam was smart enough to know that. "What's going on?"

"I don't know; apparently, there's someone new calling the shots."

"Adam has been replaced?" Blake demanded.

"No," Tukson replied. "That would be too easy. He's still there, but there's somebody else above him, giving him his marching orders. Not the High Leader. Nobody that talks to me really knows who she is, just that she arrived not long after you left and that Adam takes his cue from her." Tukson paused. "They say she's human."

"That's impossible," Blake said. "Adam would never work with a human."

"I thought so too, but that's what I hear from people closer to it all than us," Tukson said. "I hear the old guard aren't happy about it. They don't have the men, yet, but-"

"Adam will kill them before they do," Blake whispered.

"Probably," Tukson admitted.

Blake bowed her head. "I still can't believe this. I know it's stupid, after the things that we... that the White Fang have already done, but... do you know where the next robbery is? Or when it is?"

"Why?"

"I need to see this for myself," Blake said, "before I can believe it."

"See for yourself or stop it?"

"Both, maybe," Blake admitted. "If you're right."

“Blake-” Tukson said.

“Don’t try to dissuade me,” Blake implored.

“Someone ought to,” Tukson replied. “You know what you’re walking into.”

“And what should I do instead?” Blake demanded. “Run away again? Go to Vacuo? I can’t keep running, I… have to make a stand for what I believe in, and what I believe is that the White Fang is going too far.”

Tukson drank some more of his tea. "The word is there's an SDC freighter coming into port tomorrow. They must be experimenting with ships since the rail line keeps getting intercepted. The plain is to steal the containers from off the wharfside."

"From stores to shipping containers?" Sun said. "Someone wants a lot of dust."

"Tomorrow night?" asked Blake.

"Tomorrow night," agreed Tukson.

"I'll be there," Blake declared.

"And so will I," Sun added.

"Sun," Blake said, "you don't have to-"

"No, I don't," Sun agreed. "But I'm going to."

"Why?" Blake asked. "This could be dangerous. You could be hurt or-"

"So could you, and you're still doing it."

He was right of course. "I... I have to," Blake said. "This is my... this is something that I have to do."

"Then like I said before," Sun reminded her, "it seems like you could use all the help you can get."

Flash stood before the dorm room door – on the inside of the room, that is – with the tip of Caliburn resting on the floor while he held the spear shaft of the weapon’s current mode in his hands. He looked grim and resolute and just a little ridiculous.

Twilight’s eyes flickered to him from her computer. “You know, you can sit down.”

“I’m not sure if Rainbow Dash would like that,” Flash muttered.

Twilight smiled, if only a little. “I’m glad you’re here, but honestly? I’m not expecting an attack. I very much doubt that Blake will come back here.”

She pushed her chair back across the carpeted floor.

Flash looked at her. “I thought you were supposed to be piloting your drones.”

“I have twenty drones in the air,” Twilight informed him. “There’s no way that I could pilot all of them at once, with any kind of interface. I’d need a supercomputer for a brain to coordinate even half as many objects in flight at once.”

Flash grinned. “You mean you don’t have a supercomputer for a brain?”

“Unfortunately not,” Twilight replied. “So I’ve set the drones to fly on pre-programmed flight-paths and uploaded Blake’s image into the recognition databases. As they fly, they’re scanning every face using advanced recognition software. They’ll alert me if they get a match, and I can assume direct control of that drone or any nearby.”

“But until then… you wait?”

“I wait,” Twilight said. She got up off her chair. “Will you please sit down? You can protect me just as easily without doing your best impression of a statue.”

Flash laughed self-deprecatingly. “I guess you’re right,” he admitted as he retreated across the room and sat down on Penny’s bed. He leaned Caliburn against the wall and took off his crested helmet, setting it down beside him. Flash ran one hand through his blue hair. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Were you close?” Twilight asked.

“No,” Flash said at once. “I don’t think anyone was close to Blake. But at the same time… she was still one of us. A Beacon freshman. Bon Bon likes to say that even though we’re on different teams, we’re on the same team because we’re all huntsmen of Beacon.”

“That’s… a very Atlesian attitude,” Twilight murmured. “Which isn’t too surprising, come to think, is it?”

“I guess not,” Flash replied. “It hasn’t taken in every quarter… particularly not in my team, I have to admit, but she’s got a point. We’re all at this school, we’re all here to do the same job, to become the same thing. We ought to be able to trust each other without having to worry that someone is planning to stab us in the back and betray the cause we’re fighting for.”

“I know,” Twilight murmured. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

Flash shook his head. “This has nothing to do with me.”

Twilight pursed her lips together. “Flash… it’s okay to be angry or upset. Rainbow is very angry and very upset, and she… and we haven’t suffered half as much at the hands of the White Fang as you have.”

Flash looked up and into her eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What isn’t?” Twilight asked.

“Trying to compare what I went through with what you went through as though we can establish a hierarchy of who has suffered most.”

“Everyone lived,” Twilight said softly. “My parents, my brother, my friends, Cadance. In the end I didn’t lose anyone.”

“And I wasn’t scared out of my mind for me and everyone I cared about,” Flash declared. “By the time I found out what I’d lost… it was already too late.”

“Oh, Flash,” Twilight murmured, as she crossed the room to sit down on the bed beside him. She put one arm around his shoulders and took his hand with the other. “I wish that there was something I could do to take that pain away from you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pretend if you’re not,” Twilight insisted.

Flash looked at her. “You know… it's stuff like this that made me think you and I could be a thing.”

Twilight gasped. “I’m just trying to be a good friend. That’s all I was ever trying to be.”

“I know,” Flash said. “I mean I know that now. I just… it doesn’t matter. And as for my father… I try and honour him by being a good man, someone that he could be proud of.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of you,” Twilight assured him.

“I’m not sure my mom feels the same way,” Flash replied. “She thinks I’m being reckless.”

“She’s probably just scared to lose you.”

“There’s no probably about it; she told me so herself,” Flash told her. “But I can’t just hide myself away in an office somewhere in Atlas, I want to leave the world a better place than I found it.”

“To be honest, a part of me would quite like to hide away in a lab in Atlas somewhere,” Twilight admitted. “But… duty calls.”

“For some,” Flash said. “The reason I chose Beacon instead of Atlas is I knew that, at Atlas, my mom would pull strings to keep me out of harm's way.”

“I’m not sure General Ironwood would allow that.”

“I’m not sure he wouldn’t either,” Flash replied. “Remember, he doesn’t know me like he knows you.”

“It’s because I know him that I know that he doesn’t play those kinds of games,” Twilight insisted. “But… you’re happy here at Beacon, right?”

Flash nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then you made the right choice, and nothing else matters,” Twilight said. She smiled. “Flash, can I ask you something completely irrelevant and possibly rather stupid?”

Flash shrugged. “I guess.”

“Why do you wear your jacket over your armour?”

Flash stifled a laugh. “Really?”

“They hardly go together.”

“My jacket has pockets for my stuff.”

“Pyrrha wears pouches on her belt for that.”

“I suppose,” Flash said, more softly. He paused. “I got this jacket,” he continued, after a moment, “at the same time that I bought Sunset her jacket.” He smiled. “I remember, she was so happy about it. She loved it. She put it on and then danced all around the mall with this great big smile on her face and her arms spread out on either side of her like a little kid. It was the funniest thing… and it was also the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I guess I wear this jacket… to remind me of that day. And of her.”

“You still love her, don’t you?”

“I think a part of me always will,” Flash admitted.

“She seems a lot better now,” Twilight said. “Have you ever thought about maybe-?”

“No,” Flash said quickly. “She might be better now, but she’s not the same. There’s a part of me that will always love Sunset, but it’s the Sunset that I knew back then. Whoever she becomes now, she’ll never be that girl I knew again.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t dwell on the past.”

“There’s nothing wrong with remembering the good times,” Twilight insisted. “As long as you don’t let them stop you looking to the future.”

There was a knock on the door. Spike, who had been dozing under the desk, opened his eyes and looked up, but did not bark.

Flash got to his feet, one hand reaching for Caliburn.

“Who is it?” Twilight called.

“It’s Weiss,” Weiss replied from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Twilight declared as she got up from the bed before Flash could stop her, then crossed the room in brisk strides to open the door. “Hey, Weiss.”

“Hey, Twilight,” Weiss said, without much enthusiasm. Twilight stepped aside, and Weiss glided in, closing the door behind her. She glanced around, catching sight of Spike on the floor. “And who is this?” she asked, her face lighting up as she knelt down, holding out her hands.

Twilight smiled. “That’s Spike, my dog.”

“Oh, he’s a good boy. Yes, he is. Yes, you are! Come to Auntie Weiss, come on.”

Spike barked as he jumped into Weiss’ arms. She started scratching him behind the ears as she stood up. Noticing Twilight looking at her with a smile on her face, Weiss looked away. Her pale cheeks flushed a little. “Ahem. Is there any word?” Weiss asked.

“Not from Rainbow Dash, no,” Twilight said. “And my drones haven’t alerted me to anything either,” she added, gesturing to her computer.

“I see,” Weiss murmured. “I… don’t know what to say to that.”

“If she is a member of the White Fang-” Flash began.

“What if she’s not?” Weiss asked. “What if she only was? She didn’t exactly get a chance to explain herself before Rainbow started throwing punches.”

Flash frowned. “Even if she only used to be a member of the White Fang, then…”

“Professor Ozpin seems to trust her,” Weiss said. “And if we can’t trust the headmaster, then who can we trust? Believe me, I know that the White Fang are dangerous, and that we have to fight them… but if Blake is… is hurt,” she said, because she didn’t want to admit the other possibility, “for no other reason than her past, doesn’t that prove that everything the White Fang say is right?”

Twilight looked down at the floor. “Quite possibly.”

“I like Rainbow Dash,” Weiss said, “and I have a lot of respect for the Atlas forces… I just don’t want to see someone I… could call a friend… kill another.”

Twilight must have fallen asleep at some point, because she woke up with a start to find that it was morning. There was birdsong outside and light beginning to filter in through the crack in the curtains.

Twilight sat up; she had fallen asleep with her head resting on the desk. Her computer showed that all her drones were still in the air, and none of them had yet located any sign of Blake.

Which might not be a wholly bad thing, in the circumstances.

Twilight took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. "Flash, Weiss, why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, before letting loose with a leonine yawn as she looked around.

She swiftly discovered that the reason neither of them had woken her up was that they were both asleep themselves. They were both sat on the bed; there was just about room for them, although Flash's legs were falling down off it to the floor, leaning against one another. Weiss' head was resting upon Flash's shoulder; Flash's head was resting on top of Weiss'. It was… pretty cute, really. Made all the more so by the way that Spike, also sleeping, had climbed into Weiss' lap. One of her hands was resting on his back as though she had fallen asleep midway through stroking him.

Twilight smiled at them both and kept her footsteps very soft as she crossed the room to her own bed and cleaned her spectacles. As she wiped at the lenses, she thought about what Weiss had said, about proving the White Fang right in the way they treated Blake.

It wasn't something Twilight could really argue with.

Unfortunately, Twilight wasn't the person who most needed to be convinced.

Twilight understood why Rainbow felt the way she did, why she was driven to act the way she did. Twilight had been at the wedding too, after all; Twilight had looked Chrysalis in the eye; Twilight seemed to be the one towards whom Chrysalis bore the most malice. Twilight had been trapped in that room the same as the rest of them, anxious and fearful. It haunted her as much as it haunted Rainbow Dash; it haunted her so much that she had come very close to refusing this assignment because she really didn't want to be in the line of fire again. But… Twilight supposed that was the point; she could accept and admit to herself that she was, not a bookworm, but well-read at least, and a science nerd and that she would be better off in a lab somewhere safely out of the way. Twilight could accept that she had been scared out of her mind because… because she was the kind of person who was supposed to be scared. She was the kind of person who was supposed to be saved by heroes like Rainbow Dash. Rainbow couldn't accept it in the same way because that wasn't who Rainbow Dash was, that wasn't what Rainbow wanted to be thought of as: a fierce daughter of Atlas, a warrior, the bravest of the brave. And she was brave, the bravest person Twilight knew… and because she was brave, she couldn't forgive herself for the sin of having once felt fear.

Twilight put a comm device in her ear and kept her voice soft and quiet as she murmured. "Rainbow Dash."

The earpiece was connected to her scroll and began to call in obedience to Twilight's command. It was only a moment or two before Rainbow answered. "Morning, Twi."

"Morning," Twilight replied. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"No," Rainbow muttered.

Twilight winced. Rainbow… she had become a lot more of a morning person out of sheer necessity since Twilight had first met her - you couldn't survive in the Atlesian school system otherwise - but that didn't mean she was going to be at her best having gone without sleep. "So… you haven't found anything yet?"

"No," Rainbow growled. "Any luck from the air?"

"My drones haven't spotted her, I'm afraid."

"Too bad," Rainbow muttered. "How are things up there?"

Twilight looked again at the slumbering Flash and Weiss. "Weiss and Flash are sleeping propped up against one another, and it's adorable."

"Wake him up; he's supposed to be protecting you!" Rainbow snapped.

"Rainbow Dash," remonstrated Twilight. "You don't honestly think that Blake is going to show up here at Beacon, do you?"

"If she finds out the headmaster is on her side, she might."

"If she came back because the headmaster was on her side, she'd hardly risk that by attacking a fellow student," Twilight pointed out.

"She is not a student," Rainbow growled. "She's a terrorist, Twi, and you know that as well as I do."

"She was one, true," Twilight agreed. "Although that doesn't necessarily mean she did anything unforgivable."

Rainbow groaned. "Come on, Twi, not you too. You know what these people are like. You know what monsters they are, what they're capable of."

"Who's ‘they’, Rainbow Dash?"

"Don't give me that, Twilight, you know who I mean," Rainbow declared. "If it were Chrysalis out here, you wouldn't be getting cold feet; you'd be cheering me on."

"But it isn't Chrysalis," Twilight pointed out. "Blake isn't Chrysalis. Blake didn't try to abduct my sister-in-law, Blake didn't threaten Scootaloo, or any of the girls, or our friends. Blake… we don't know what Blake did, if she did anything."

"She was White Fang, I'm sure she did something," Rainbow muttered.

"Blake isn't Chrysalis," Twilight repeated. "Chrysalis is in solitary confinement in the most secure facility in Atlas." And I know that because I implanted a worm in the prison systems that will let me know the instant that changes. "You don't have to be afraid of her."

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "Is that what you think? You think that I'm scared of Chrysalis?"

"I think you feel like you've got something to prove," Twilight replied, keeping her voice down for the sake of Weiss and Flash. "But you don't. We all survived-"

"Thanks to you," Rainbow said. "You got word out."

"And you kept us alive long enough that I could," Twilight insisted. "You don't need to hunt down a Beacon student in order to prove… anything. You… you're my hero already."

"Oh, come on, Twilight, how am I supposed to stand my ground after you say something like that?"

Twilight giggled, albeit very quietly. "I don't want to see you become a killer," she murmured. "At least… not without much better reason than this."

There was no reply from the other end of the line. Only the sound of Rainbow's breathing in Twilight's earpiece told her that Rainbow Dash was still there.

"What do you want from me, Twilight?" Rainbow asked.

"I want…" Twilight hesitated. "I'd like you to give her a chance to show what she really is, and not just assume the worst."

Again, it took Rainbow a moment to answer. "Twilight… you're my hero too, you know that, right?"

"No, I didn't," Twilight said softly. "And I can't think why."

Rainbow sighed. "I'll explain in person; I'm not going to do it now. It's just… you always know what the right thing is."

"So… does that mean…?"

"It means… it means I'll think about it," Rainbow said, in a tone that made it clear that Twilight shouldn't try to push her any further on this.

Twilight wasn't inclined to try. She knew Rainbow well enough to know that Rainbow Dash promised to think about it, she had halfway to won already.

“Blake!” Ruby called as she cupped her hands around her mouth. “Blake!”

“You kids lose your dog or something?” asked the man behind the counter of the black coffee van.

“Something like that,” Sunset muttered as she handed over the lien and then picked up their breakfast: four hot drinks balanced awkwardly in a cardboard tray in one hand and two paper bags in the other which rustled gently as she squeezed them. She picked them up and made her way quickly but carefully down the street to the corner where Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha were waiting.

“Blake!” Ruby yelled again, heedless of the stares she was getting from the small number of people out on the street this early.

“Okay,” Sunset said, stifling a yawn as she approached her team. “In this bag, we have Jaune’s bacon sandwich and Pyrrha’s sausage and bacon sandwich.”

“Thanks,” Jaune said, plucking the bag out of her hands and opening it up. The paper rustled as Jaune reached in and pulled out a bun with a couple of strips of damp, greasy-looking bacon sandwiched between the bread. A drop of butter dripped back down into the bag, which was already damp with butter and grease.

Jaune handed the bag to Pyrrha as he bit into the sandwich.

“Can I ask,” Sunset said, as Pyrrha pulled out her sandwich in turn, “first of all, where are you putting all of this greasy rubbish away, and secondly, how is it that you won’t touch chocolate, but you’ll gladly eat that?”

“Meat contains calories,” Pyrrha explained. “I need the energy.” She looked around. “Does anyone see a trash can- oh, there’s one over there.” She darted across the street, looking both ways as she went, and deposited the paper bag in the nearby bin before rejoining the team.

“And in this bag,” Sunset said. “We have Ruby’s chocolate flapjack-”

“Yeah.” Ruby’s hands reached for the bag avariciously.

“That’s right, you can get yours,” Sunset said, lowering the bag so that Ruby could extract her breakfast, leaving only Sunset’s cinnamon whirl. The pastry was already starting to flake. “The drinks have our initials written on them so help yourselves.”

They did just that, each selecting what they’d ordered – Pyrrha’s chai tea, Jaune’s latte, Ruby’s hot chocolate – by the Pyrrha, Jaune and Ruby written on the cardboard cups. At this time in the morning, Sunset was glad for something hot down her throat. She stifled a yawn again as she stuffed her pastry into her mouth as quickly as possible, wiping the crumps away with the back of her hand. She crumpled up the paper bag and shoved it into her jacket pocket – she’d get rid of it later; she didn’t feel like crossing the street to the bin right now – and began to sip on her mocha. It was hot. Scaldingly, gloriously hot. Just what she needed.

“We should go to Tukson’s,” Sunset said, as she lowered her cup and licked the mocha from around her lips.

“Why would Blake go to a bookstore?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t know, why would Blake go anywhere?” Sunset snapped. She sighed. “Sorry… it’s been a long night.”

“It’s been a long night for all of us,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“I know, it doesn’t mean that I’m not tired,” Sunset replied. “The point is that we could wander around Vale from now until Monday morning and the start of class and never find Blake; this place is too big, and we don’t know her that well. Tukson’s is the only place in town we actually know that she goes, and she seems friendly with Mister Tukson. I don’t know, and it doesn’t make any sense to hide out at a bookshop, but does anyone else have any better ideas? Does anyone else have any ideas at all as to where else Blake might go?”

They answered through silence.

“Maybe… maybe we should talk to Team Bluebell?” Ruby suggested.

“You mean the team that we never see Blake with?” Sunset replied.

“That’s a good point,” Ruby conceded, in a soft and slightly reluctant tone.

“If we just keep pounding the pavements aimlessly, then Rosepetal are going to find her first,” Sunset declared. “They’ve got Twilight’s drones, after all.”

“We could split up,” Jaune said.

“Sunset’s right; the city is too big,” Pyrrha told him. “Even if we did split up, there would be too much ground to cover… and… if there is something going on… if the White Fang are involved… I don’t like the idea of you encountering trouble by yourself. I’m sorry, but these people are killers, and you’re still learning.”

“You don’t need to apologise, I get it,” Jaune said. “I mean… when you let me fight that ursa in the forest… I was kind of glad that you were there in case I got into too much trouble.”

“Splitting up is a bad idea,” Sunset agreed.

“But we don’t believe that Blake’s dangerous,” Ruby pointed out.

“It doesn’t mean that nobody is,” Sunset replied. “Look, we have nothing to lose by going to Tukson’s; the time we’ll spend heading there is no different than the time we’d spend going any other direction. But, again, if anyone has a better idea, I’m open to it.”

“I think yours is the best idea that we could have,” Pyrrha murmured. “But will the shop be open now?”

“If it isn’t,” Sunset said. “We’ll just have to bang on the door.”

They kept on calling for Blake – or rather Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune did; Sunset saved her breath, considering that Blake was unlikely to come when called as if she were the pet that the coffee vendor had taken her for – as they made their way to the bookstore. Along the way, they finished their drinks, throwing away and the cups by the time they arrived at Tukson’s Book Trade. The early morning light made the gold leaf of the letters glint a little on the green sign as the four huntsmen crossed the quiet street to the store.

The door was open, fortunately, with no need for them to stand outside banging on the door. Rather, Sunset led the way inside to find that Mister Tukson was standing by the counter. He did a double-take at the sight of them, his eyes widening.

“You, uh, you kids are here early,” he said, in a voice that was louder than it needed to be. “I don’t usually get a lot of customers at this time in the morning.”

“You must get a few,” Sunset muttered as she advanced towards the counter. “Or why open so early?”

“Oh, you know, get a couple of early birds passing through,” Mister Tukson replied. “So, what can I do for you kids?”

“Have you seen Blake?” Ruby asked. “We really need to find her?”

“Blake?” Tukson repeated, again in a louder voice that was necessary. “No, I haven’t seen Blake, why?”

“She ran off,” Jaune explained, “and we’re trying to find her.”

“You people have no filter, do you?” Sunset muttered.

“Ran off?” Tukson said. “Why?”

“We’re not exactly sure,” Pyrrha admitted. “We were hoping that, if we found her, she might explain her reasons to us.”

“That seems fair enough,” Tukson replied, “but why look for her here?”

“I’m afraid that this is the only place we could think to look,” Pyrrha said apologetically. “It may seem absurd, but this is the only place we know she frequents.”

“I wouldn’t say that she frequents this place,” Tukson said genially. “She’s a good customer, but this is still only a bookshop. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

“Then who are you yelling too?” Sunset demanded.

Tukson was silent for a moment. “Blake isn’t here,” he declared. “Feel free to browse, but if you’ve no intention of buying anything, then please leave; this is a shop, not a library.”

Sunset leaned on the counter. “Blake!” she shouted. “We want to talk!”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Tukson said.

“Or else what?” Sunset asked. “Are you going to call the police?”

Tukson didn’t reply, which was all the answer that Sunset needed, even if it wasn’t proof of anything.

“Please,” Ruby said, “if Blake’s in trouble, then we want to help her.”

“Why?” Blake asked, pushing open the doors that led into the back room and striding out to stand by Tukson behind the counter. “Why should any of you care what happens to me?” Her bow was gone, revealing a pair of feline ears emerging from out of her wild black hair.

“Because you’re in trouble,” Ruby replied. “Because you need help.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be the ones to help me,” Blake said.

“Yes, it does,” Ruby said. “Because we’re huntsmen.”

Blake stared at Ruby for a moment. “There aren’t many people who could pull off saying that with a straight face,” she observed. “From you, I almost believe it. But you still need to go.”

“And leave you here?” Jaune asked.

“Yes,” Blake said. “I’m not coming back to Beacon.”

“Why not? Professor Ozpin already seems to know everything about your past,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Far more than we do ourselves, to tell you the truth.”

Blake snorted. “Did you come looking for me so that you could get my life story?”

“We came looking for you because Rainbow Dash thinks you’re a rabid dog,” Sunset said.

Blake was silent for a moment. “Maybe she’s not entirely wrong,” she murmured. “I was a member of the White Fang, and although my parents left when Sienna Khan became leader-”

“Because your parents were the previous leaders of the White Fang, right?” Jaune interrupted.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “How did you-”

“Rainbow recognised the name,” Sunset said. “Belladonna. I’d say it was careless not to change it, but nobody recognised it except Rainbow Dash.”

“It doesn’t carry a lot of weight outside of Menagerie,” Blake observed dryly.

The blond-haired monkey faunus from the docks emerged from out the back. “Your parents used to lead the White Fang? You didn’t tell me that.”

“It wasn’t important,” Blake said.

“Excuse me,” Pyrrha murmured. “At the risk of sounding rude, who are you?”

“Everyone, this is Sun Wukong,” Blake said. “Sun, this is Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ruby Rose, Team Sapphire of Beacon.”

“’Sup?” Sun asked.

“'’Sup'?” Sunset repeated incredulously. “You’re hanging around with a guy who says ‘sup’?”

“He… wants to help me,” Blake declared. “When no one else did.”

“We want to help you,” Ruby said. “That’s why we’re here.”

“So,” Sunset said. “You’re not only a criminal, but a runaway princess, too?”

Blake snorted. “I suppose you could put it like that. When my parents abandoned the cause, I stayed. I embraced Sienna Khan’s more violent methods… until they became too violent. I wasn’t prepared to indiscriminately kill people whose only crime was being passive participants in a system of oppression. It… it was a step too far for me.”

“That’s… nice to hear, Lady Blake,” Pyrrha observed mildly, “but it doesn’t explain why you came to Beacon.”

“Because it wasn’t enough to just slink into the shadows,” Blake explained. “I had to do something. I had to make amends, in some way, if that makes any sense. I wanted to devote myself to the path of a huntress, to atone for my actions and… to continue to fight for justice and righteousness. Which is why I can’t go back to Beacon with you.”

“You’ll be safer there than here,” Jaune said. “Like Pyrrha said, Professor Ozpin knows everything, and there’s no way that Rainbow Dash will try anything on the campus.”

“No, she’ll just call her good friend General Ironwood to pressure Professor Ozpin into having me arrested, and while she’s waiting, she’ll scream her head off about me to anyone who’ll listen,” Blake pointed out.

Sunset blinked. “That… yeah, that’s a fair point. But-”

“Besides,” Blake said, “Rainbow Dash isn’t what I’m really worried about.”

“She ought to be; they didn’t call her the Ace of Canterlot for nothing,” Sunset said.

Blake shook her head. “Unfortunately, she and Weiss aren’t wrong about the dust robberies. The White Fang are behind them, and tonight, they’re going to rob a large dust shipment just arrived from Atlas. Or they’ll try. I’m going to the docks tonight to stop them.”

“And I’m going with her,” Sun said.

“And so am I,” Ruby said.

“Wait, what?” Sunset cried. “No, you are not!”

“Why not?” Ruby demanded. “Are we supposed to let Blake go off and fight the White Fang by herself?” Ruby asked.

“Uh,” Sun began.

“By herself, with Sun,” Ruby corrected herself.

Sunset turned back to Blake. “Why are you going?”

“Because someone needs to stop them,” Blake answered.

“Someone doesn’t have to mean you.”

“But it has to be someone, and who else is going to do it?” Blake asked of her. “Not you.”

“Call the police; give them an anonymous tip.”

“Even if they believe me, the police can’t stand up to the White Fang,” Blake insisted. “I know these people - I’ve fought with them - and I’m not going to send anyone else to their deaths fighting a battle they can’t win.”

“Except my team,” Sunset said.

“I’m not asking you to come with me.”

“Maybe not, but you’re…” Sunset paused. “Do you really think you’ll win?”

“I don’t know,” Blake answered honestly. “I only know that I have to try.”

“And so do we,” Ruby said. “Sunset… I know that you’re worried, but we’re huntsmen! We’re supposed to accept risk, and if… if you can’t accept that, then maybe you shouldn’t be at Beacon. I mean, I’m not saying that I want you gone, I’m saying that… we know what’s going on, we know who’s behind it, we know where they’re going to be… and we know what we have to do.”

“Tell Professor Ozpin?” Jaune suggested.

“He might not believe me,” Blake said. “I… I can’t reveal how I know this, but I trust the source of my information.”

Sunset inhaled through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what kind of opposition we’re likely to run into?”

Blake shook her head. “No.”

“But if we work together, I’m sure we can handle it,” Ruby said.

“We are… not without skill,” Pyrrha admitted, “and we are talking about a battle, not an investigation or anything of that sort.”

Sunset looked at her. “Et tu, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed just a little. “I am afraid that… in this case, Ruby has a point. Knowing what we do, how can we in honour turn our backs and allow evil to run rampant? How can we turn away when lives are at stake?

“What lives?”

“The lives the White Fang will take when they deploy the stolen dust for whatever end they have in mind,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset sighed. “Jaune?”

Jaune took a moment to collect himself. “I’m… I’m a little ashamed to admit it in front of you, but I’m nervous. I’m ashamed because you don’t seem in the least bit afraid. But I won’t leave you guys; if this is what we’re doing, then I’m in. And… for what it’s worth, I think you’re right. This is the right thing to do.”

It’s the stupid thing to do, Sunset thought. She looked at Blake, a flash of irritation running through her. It appeared that her choices were to go along with this or else try and bully her team into leaving Blake to do this stupid thing by herself, and quite possibly get herself killed doing it. Her ears flattened to the top of her head in irritation. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Yes!” Ruby cried. “This is the right thing, Sunset, and it’s going to work out.”

“I hope so,” Sunset said.

“We’re with you, Lady Blake,” Pyrrha vowed, bowing as she said it.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that,” Blake said.

Pyrrha frowned. “Is your mother not the Lady of Menagerie, wife to its chieftain?”

“Yes,” Blake admitted through gritted teeth. “But… Blake is fine, really.” Her lips twitched upwards. “Unless you’d prefer me to start calling you ‘Lady Pyrrha’?”

Pyrrha’s cheeks reddened a touch. “No, I would rather you didn’t… Blake,” she said.

“Thank you,” Blake said. “Not just for that, but… for everything. You don’t have to do this.”

Sunset snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Now, since we’ve got all day, we might as well try and make a plan.”

They had time before they ventured down to the docks to… to see if the White Fang had fallen so low or if Tukson was mistaken. They had time before they had to leave. Time to prepare. Time to plan. Time to call Yang and fill her in on what was going on and obtain her cooperation.

Time for Blake to brood and to decide that, when this battle was over, she would not return to Beacon. She didn't belong there, amongst people untainted by past crimes and ill-judged associations, unburdened by the weight of the things that they had done, the spectres of those they had hurt. She did not belong with Ruby who smiled so adorably, with Pyrrha who spoke so gently; she didn't belong with Sun who was so thoughtlessly noble in his impulses. She did not belong in such a company of budding heroes.

Darkness did not belong in the company of light. One stained and soiled as she was did not belong in the company of the spotless and the clean.

She didn't belong there. Probably, she had never belonged there… but it had been a pleasant illusion to sustain, while it lasted. While she lived, wherever she went next, she would treasure the memory of the acceptance that had been extended to Blake Belladonna, even if she had had to wear a bow to obtain it.

But it was time to wake up now. This was not for her.

Once the battle was concluded - if indeed there was a battle; they might waste their time down at the docks tonight - she would slip away. They would not notice she was gone for some time. Probably, they would not miss her when they did notice. She was not needed there.

The door to Tukson’s guest bedroom - where Blake and Sun had spent the night, and where Blake was now - opened. Sunset Shimmer stood in the doorway

“There you are,” Sunset said. “I want to talk.”

Sunset felt like an imbecile for not having recognised the name of Belladonna. It wasn’t as though it was a common name; Blake was the only Belladonna she knew. Sunset should have spotted this much sooner, and she shouldn’t have needed Rainbow Dash to do it.

Of course, considering that if she had put the pieces together much sooner, she probably would have tried to blackmail the other girl or done something equally deplorable, then perhaps it was a good thing her mind had been working more slowly than it ought to have been.

“There you are,” Sunset said, pushing open the door into the blandly-decorated and austerely-furnished guest room. “I want to talk.”

Blake was sitting on the bed. She looked up and into Sunset’s eyes. But, though she sat still and waited for Sunset to speak, it was a flighty sort of stillness that looked poised to break into renewed flight at any moment. Her golden eyes watched Sunset keenly, but also warily, as though Sunset Shimmer were as threatening to her as all the perils of the White Fang.

Perhaps I should be flattered.

"What do you want?" Blake asked cautiously.

Sunset shrugged. "Perhaps I just want to talk about what happens next."

"If I knew that myself, I might tell you," Blake said, with an emphasis on might that suggested it was unlikely.

"You’re not planning on coming back to Beacon, then?” Sunset asked.

“I… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Blake replied softly.

“Where are you going to go instead?”

“I… haven’t figured that part out, yet,” Blake admitted.

“Anywhere but here?”

Blake was silent for a moment. "Something like that."

Sunset snorted. "I know how that feels." In response to Blake's slightly quizzical look, Sunset smirked. "What, you think you're the first person to ever run away from home? How bad were things with your parents by the time you left?"

Blake's eyes widened, and she looked as though she was about to leap away.

Sunset raised one hand pacifically. "Relax, I didn't mean to scare you off. Unfortunately, your secret isn’t much of a secret any more, but… for whatever it might be worth, I think that what remains of a secret is safe with Team Sapphire."

Blake stared at her. "You know, you’re being unusually generous."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Listen, you’ve been far more anti-social than I have at this point, so why don’t you cut me some slack. I’m trying to be a good person. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I won't be humble," Sunset said, "but I will seek for grace; and I'm trying to be nicer on my way to the top."

Blake raised one eyebrow. Sunset shrugged. "Look, you can't expect me to change everything about myself, or even want to."

"I suppose I can relate to that," Blake murmured.

Sunset took a step closer to her. "We're not all bad; there's no need to throw out our virtues along with our vices. Some parts of our vices can even make us virtuous, it could be argued."

Blake was silent for a moment. "What do you want, Sunset?"

"Perhaps I just want you to come back to Beacon when all this is over instead of running off to… anywhere but here."

"I can't go back," Blake replied. "You know the truth, you know that I have to leave."

"I don't know everything," Sunset said. She leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. "Why did you stay on in the White Fang when your parents quit?”

Blake was silent for a moment. "You're from Atlas, aren't you?"

Sunset took pause. "I… I'm not technically from there, but… yes, I lived in Atlas for a few years."

"How many times were you stopped by the police, even though you'd done nothing wrong?"

Sunset scowled. These weren't memories she wished to bring to the forefront of her mind. "Five times."

"I suppose there were stores that wouldn't serve you."

"Of course there were," Sunset said irritably.

"And when they would let you in, I suppose you could feel them watching you, as if it was only a matter of time before you did something criminal."

"Yeah."

"That's why I stayed in the White Fang," Blake said. "I believed… I still believe in equality, in justice for our people. And it worked." She closed her eyes, and a look of anguish crossed her face. "What kind of world do we live in where our violent methods got more results than my father's peaceful protest ever did?"

"Transient results," Sunset replied. "Like… you can cup water in your hands for a moment, but it'll slip through your fingers again before too long."

Blake looked at her, silent, watching.

"You can scare a store-owner into serving faunus by smashing his windows or by burning down another no-faunus store across town," Sunset said. "But how many laws did your violence get on the books?" She frowned. "You asked me how many times I was stopped by the police? Two of those times they hauled me in, just like they hauled in every other faunus they could find in the aftermath of a White Fang incident. Stuffed us all in cells until Principal Celestia came to bail me out. You might have thought that you were getting somewhere, but from the outside… it didn't look that way."

"I know," Blake said. "I realised that," she added, her expression speaking of a melancholy upon the verge of despair. "I realised that we weren't really making a difference... at about the same time I realised that we were becoming more wicked than all but the worst of those we claimed to be fighting. At the same time I realised how monstrous he had become."

“He?”

“Adam,” Blake said. “My… my mentor, my partner, my... he wasn't always… there was a time when he was the very best of us. The..."

"Paragon?" Sunset suggested.

Blake's eyes met Sunset's for a moment. "I suppose so. There was a time when… but then, he changed. The cruelty of the world… it made him cruel in turn. It made us all cruel."

Sunset stared down at Blake. "You don't have to go," she said.

"Yes, I do," Blake insisted.

"No, you don't," Sunset repeated. "In fact, I'll go even further: maybe you shouldn't." She sighed. "I don't know you. I don't know what you've done. But I know running. I'm a runner myself. We run and run, you and I, we run from our pasts and the mistakes that we've made, and we chase… I don't know; dreams, illusions, fantasies. But when we reach the place we were running to, then everything we thought that we might find there turns out to be ephemeral, phantasmal, never really there at all. And all the while, the things we ran from follow us, more persistently than any grimm. You can feel them, can't you, on the back of your neck? But we're both here. All our running has brought us to this place, this point. This destiny."

"I don't believe in fate."

"I do," Sunset insisted. "Long years ago, the sun and moon ordained these things; we are meant to be here, Blake Belladonna. Here is the place where our dreams can come true if we have the courage to reach for them."

Blake's face was unreadable. "You really do believe that, don't you?"

I'm seventeen years old, and I'm already on my very last shot, Sunset thought. I have to believe it. If I didn't... I'd despair. "Do you remember initiation?"

Blake blinked. "Yes," she said, in a tone that suggested she didn't immediately see the relevance.

"I chose the white knight piece; my team chose the white knights," Sunset said. "Do you know why?"

Blake shrugged. "Did you like the cute pony?"

As a cute pony herself, Sunset's eyes narrowed a little. "No, it's because the white knight is the hero, the shining figure that everyone looks up to, the one who leads the charge, the one who slays the dragon, the one who saves the world."

"And you think that's you?"

"It will be," Sunset said, in a voice that refused to admit doubt or entertain the possibility of failure. She had the undefeated Pyrrha Nikos of far-fame upon her right flank, she had the young hero Ruby Rose with silver eyes upon her left, what could they be but the heroes of this tale, the ones to take the lead against all darkness? It was no coincidence that brought the three of them together; they were meant to be the tip of the spear, and Sunset the very point. "I chose the white knight as a statement of intent," Sunset said. "I chose the white knight… and you chose the black."

"Don't read too much into it," Blake said. "I didn't have your statement of intent in mind."

"There is providence in things that we cannot consciously know," Sunset said. "Beacon, Vale, Remnant… they need a white knight, but they need a black knight too. Someone to fight from the shadows. And your secrets are safe with Sapphire, I guarantee it." Pyrrha was too honourable and Ruby too good-natured for either of them to go blabbing Blake's secrets once they understood that they were secret, and while Jaune might accidentally let it slip out of his mouth, Sunset was confident that they'd manage to stop him in time.

"And the rest?" Blake asked. “Rosepetal, Weiss, Yang?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “But you’ll never find out if you run the moment the fighting stops.”

Blake looked down, squeezing and then unclenching her hands. “You’ve got a point,” she conceded.

“Why did you come to Beacon?” Sunset asked.

“To become a huntress.”

“Obviously, but it’s not going to happen if you run,” Sunset said. “Is there something you want to be a huntress for?”

Blake nodded. “To oppose the injustice of the world.”

“Then come back to Beacon and do it,” Sunset said. “Don’t let them win.”

“'They'?”

“Anyone who wants to tell you ‘no,’ to say you can’t,” Sunset said. “You can’t give into them.”

“And I won’t,” Blake declared. She rose to her feet. “I’ll come back to Beacon with you, after the mission.”

Sunset grinned. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “After the mission.”

After the mission.

Black and White (New)

Black and White

Sunset frowned. "Are you… playing video games?"

Ruby's thumbs moved quickly across the screen of her scroll, tapping the surface lightly. "Yep."

Sunset threw up her hands in exasperation. "But… we're supposed to be on a mission! We are on a mission! The enemy might arrive at any moment!"

"But they're not here yet," Ruby pointed out.

"I know that, but…" Sunset clenched her jaw. "You're the one who wanted to stop these robberies; the least you could do is take it seriously!"

"I will take it seriously, once the bad guys show up," Ruby assured her. She looked up. "You don't like this, do you?"

Sunset's tail twitched. "Honestly, this feels like another 'ten out of ten for guts, five out of ten for sense' situation," she answered. "Actually, it's not even five out of ten for sense. Three out of ten, maybe. Only this time, the three of you have all been dragged into it too."

They were at the northern edge of the docks, taking cover behind a stack of SDC-branded shipping containers – handily colour-coded, in case anyone only wanted to steal fire dust or the like – while they waited for something to happen if it was going to. Pyrrha, Jaune, and Yang – Ruby's sister had joined them during the day and agreed to join this plan, though she thought it was almost as mad as Sunset did, and was compensating for Jaune's lack of a ranged weapon - were at the southern side of the dock, while Blake and Sun were to the west. If the White Fang arrived, they would catch the group from all three landward-facing sides.

That was the plan, anyway, and it was a plan that meant that the White Fang – if it was them, if they showed up – would have a hard time getting away overland once the trap was sprung. On the other hand, if they came by sea – if they had a boat of their own, say – then they would have an easy escape that way. Worse – and this was really making Sunset's hands itch – there was a chance that the enemy might run into any of the waiting pairs as they were entering the dock, and that might lead to some real problems.

Ruby put her scroll down. "Sunset… I get it. I've thought about what you were trying to tell me about the training mission, and I get it now. I didn't get it, because I was too annoyed that you and Pyrrha were treating me like a kid," she added, putting her hands on her hips. "But I get it."

"Do you?" Sunset asked. "So what do you get?"

"That it didn't matter if you and Yang and Weiss had failed to kill the apex alpha grimm," Ruby replied. "Because even if the whole horde had reached the defence lines, then the huntsmen and the Defence Forces and the Royal Navy would have stopped them before the grimm hurt anybody. What the other students did wasn't as smart, but it was the right call."

"'But'?" Sunset said, because she knew with absolute certainty that there was a but coming.

"But if that hadn't been the case, if there had been a village in the path of the horde, if this hadn't been a training mission but the real thing, then… then it would have been worth all of your lives to stop the horde. I'm not saying that because I want you to die but because… because some things are worth dying for," Ruby insisted. "And it's the same thing here; this isn't a training mission, this is real."

"And you really think that this is worth our lives?" Sunset replied. "This… dust? Money in the pocket of Weiss's father?"

"Weapons in the hands of the White Fang," Ruby pointed out. "We're still protecting the innocent, just… indirectly. Isn't that what we signed up for?"

"I signed up because I wanted to be famous," Sunset muttered.

"Well, then think how famous you'll be once we foil a massive dust robbery and catch the guys that nobody in the police could stop," Ruby countered cheerily.

Sunset snorted. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For not telling me that I'm a selfish jackass with the wrong motivations," Sunset replied.

"We've all got our reasons; the important thing is that we all do the right thing now that we're here," Ruby said. She fell silent for a moment, and the croaking of a corvid could be heard echoing across the night sky.

Ruby glanced towards the sound for a moment, before focussing her attention upon Sunset. She smiled. "Also, cheer up and try not to worry so much. Nobody's actually going to die today. So long as we all work together, we'll get through this and stop the bad guys for sure."

Sunset grinned. "Yeah, sure we will. So long as we work together." So long as the enemy gives us the chance to work together. "Hey, Ruby?"

"Yeah?"

"When all this is over, I'm going back to the dorm room, and I'm going to sleep until Monday morning," Sunset declared. "So don't wake me, okay?"

Ruby giggled. "I won't."

Sunset looked up. The sky was dark, and for all that it was getting dark pretty early nowadays, that didn't mean that they weren't well into night by now. It wasn't snowing, which was a good thing, and the moon – the clouds having cleared away – offered up a little light to see by, but nevertheless, it was dark and late.

The night air was quiet; not many people were about in this part of town at this hour, the workers at the docks having departed for home hours ago.

But then, the quiet of the air was disturbed by the whine of an engine, by the whining sound of many engines, the engines of the flock of Bullheads that flew over the dock from the east, sweeping their searchlights – two in the nose of each airship – over the deserted docks, the white beams passing over the containers of dust.

Some of the Bullheads hovered in the air; others continued to circle around the dockyard; some began to descend for a landing at the large, open eastern side of the dock where no containers had been placed.

The doors of the descending Bullheads, and of those airships hovering in place around the containers, opened up. Warriors began to disembark, warriors in black and white, armed with blades and axes and boxy Valish assault rifles, descending to the ground and beginning to spread out across the dock.

Many of them had faunus features visible, rabbit or pony or feline ears sticking out from holes in their black hoods, tails coming out of their pants; sometimes both. One man who did not have any visible faunus features was the man in the white suit who descended from one of the Bullheads, trifling with his cane as she strode down onto the dock.

"Roman Torchwick," Ruby hissed as she and Sunset peered around the edge of the shipping container.

"We're not exactly the most inconspicuous bunch of thieves right now, so why don't you animals try picking up the pace a little?" he demanded.

Sunset took a deep breath. "Okay. Stick to the plan: we'll open fire to signal-"

"Brothers and sisters of the White Fang!" Blake's voice echoed across the dockyard.

"Or we could announce ourselves, I guess," Sunset muttered, resisting the urge to smack herself in the head.

Blake hadn't wanted to believe it. She had not thought that Tukson would lie to her, but at the same time, she hadn't wanted to believe that the White Fang were behind this. She hadn't wanted to believe that they would sink so low.

Apparently, she had underestimated the extent to which her old comrades could descend.

"It's them, huh?" Sun asked softly.

Blake closed her eyes to block out the sight of the white grimm masks, the black hoods, the bloody wolf's-head emblem on the white jackets of the warriors. "Yes," she murmured. "It's them… but why are they doing this?" She opened her eyes and shook her head. It didn't matter why, not right now. Or at least, she could guess at the general reasons well enough to not have to worry about the specific ones. She could hear Adam's voice in her head, talking about the need to make humanity pay, to strike back, to make an impression that could not be ignored.

"We're not exactly the most inconspicuous bunch of thieves at the moment, so why don't you animals try picking up the pace a little?"

Blake's eyes widened. Her ears pricked up. Who was addressing the White Fang that way? It wasn't a voice she recognised; it didn't belong to Walter or Perry or Cotton or Gilda or anyone else whom Blake might have expected to be leading this raid in Adam's absence. Nor would anyone who had spent any amount of time with Adam still talk that way. In fact, she couldn't imagine anyone in the White Fang who talked that way.

The voice belonged to a human, a human whom Blake recognised from police reports: Roman Torchwick, one of the most notorious criminals in Vale, last seen attempting to rob a dust shop.

But what was he doing working with the White Fang? Or rather, what was the White Fang doing working with him? Had they truly fallen so far from the ideals of the movement that they would ally with a common thief to… to do what? To simply get rich?

Blake had rejected the extremism of the movement, but she still believed in the ideals that inspired it, that motivated it. She had left the White Fang because she wasn't willing to get so much blood on her hands, but what of the stains that were already there? She had fought, bled, killed, comforted others after they had killed, and all for what? For criminality? Was the White Fang nothing more than another gang?

As Blake thought this, she was moving, darting around the containers, leaving Sun behind, dashing out of cover and into the open space on the northern side of the docks to grab Roman Torchwick by the neck and put Gambol Shroud to his throat.

"Brothers and sisters of the White Fang!" she cried. "Why are you aiding this scum?"

The warriors of the White Fang stared at her, all of them turning towards her, guns trained on her, blades pointed towards her. Some, able to see her feline ears, did so less readily than others. None answered her.

"Blake?"

Blake's eyes flickered to her right. Perry stood there, lean and wiry, the moonlight glinting off his round spectacles, his katana gleaming like a streak of silver.

"Perry," she murmured. "It's been a while."

"Not long enough, some would say," this voice was deeper by far. Walter's voice.

The sound of shuffling footsteps alerted Blake to certain of the White Fang moving towards her, pushing through the ranks of their fellows. Walter, as large as a bear and corded with muscle, his face wholly concealed behind a mask; Cotton, her rabbit ears emerging from beneath her hood, wearing a pink cape over her white jacket; Skoll, his lupine tail shaking eagerly back and forth; Billie, who wore horns on her mask like Ilia. Not the discontented old guard that Tukson had spoken of, these were Adam's men, his officers. The size of this operation was apparent simply by the number of fighters involved, but the importance of it was clear by their presence.

"So, the gang is almost all here," Blake muttered. "Is Gilda going to leap out behind me?"

"I wish someone would," Torchwick growled.

"Quiet," Blake snarled.

"Gilda drew the short straw," Perry explained. "Someone has to stay behind and keep an eye on the shop."

"But what are the rest of you doing here?" Blake cried. "Why are you working with a common criminal, and a human criminal at that? A man who despises you?"

"Why are you holding a blade to his throat when you should be leading us?" Skoll demanded gruffly.

"I'm here to stop you," Blake said.

"Why?" asked Cotton. "For Vale's lien?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Blake snapped. "How many people are you going to hurt with all this dust?"

"None who do not deserve to be harmed."

Blake shivered, despite herself. That voice had not come from Walter or Perry, nor from Skoll or Cotton or Billie either. He was here. She should have known that he would be here. She should have known that he would be here from the moment she spoke with Tukson.

Perhaps a part of her had known. Perhaps a part of her had wanted this, even as the rest of her dreaded it.

Adam strode out of the shadows. The Sword of the Faunus was tall, as tall as Cardin Winchester, and though he was not as broad in the shoulders, he carried himself with an air of strength that Cardin lacked. The smell of death clung to him like perfume. His mask was lined with streaks as red as blood, as though he had sliced a man's belly open and never bothered to clear up the splatter. For the rest, he was garbed all in black, even his hands concealed behind a pair of gloves. Black too, the scabbard of the sword he wore at his hip, though Blake knew well the blade beneath was crimson.

Adam Taurus, the White Fang's Lord of Battles, their champion and their great hope, Captain of the Vale Chapter… and the captain of Blake's heart, upon a time that seemed at once so near and yet so long ago.

He stopped about ten feet from her. Though his mask concealed his eyes – his good eye, and the one the SDC had ruined beyond repair – she could feel his stare upon her. She fought back against the urge of shiver in fear, as she had done when his black moods were on him.

"You should not have come here, Blake," he said, in a voice so gentle that it reminded her of when he had courted her, and she had thought him the most gallant of men. "This is no place for you."

"I had no choice," Blake declared.

"I suppose you thought not," Adam replied. "You could never stand idle, could you, Blake? That's one of the things I liked about you." He smiled, a smile that cut like a knife. "Kill the human, if you wish; I have no need of him."

"Hey!" Torchwick exclaimed.

"Isn't he your partner?" Blake demanded.

"My partner is the one who engaged his services," Adam said. "They find him amusing. But I doubt they would lose much sleep if he were to fall in battle."

"What's going on, Adam?" Blake asked. "Why do you need so much dust, why are you recruiting an army, why are you working with humans?"

"The world is changing, Blake," Adam declared. "The old ways of fighting are not enough, if they ever were. The world is changing, and much that seemed permanent and everlasting will be swept aside. I won't let the faunus or the White Fang be among them."

"'Swept aside'?" Blake repeated. "Adam… you're talking about-"

"Our oppressors," Adam said. "As I said, none will be harmed but those who deserve to be harmed."

The resonance of her own words to Rainbow Dash were bitter in Blake's memory. She thought of the tears in the Atlesian girl's eyes, the anger in her voice. "Children?" Blake asked. "Innocent-"

"Amongst those who profit from our oppression, there can be no innocents!" Adam roared, spittle flying from his mouth as his rage erupted from beneath his calm exterior. "Nor any neutrality when bigotry is the state of things!" He calmed himself with a visible effort, an effort that did not prevent his hands from shaking. “Blake,” he growled. “I give you one last chance: come with me. Rejoin your family, in the place where you belong.”

Blake shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

For a moment, Adam was still and silent. “Very well,” he growled as he placed a quivering hand upon the hilt of Wilt. “Then you will suffer the fate of all traitors.”

He drew his sword, the red blade shining.

There was the sharp crack of a rifle before a faunus of the White Fang dropped, aura broken but otherwise unharmed, like a sack of flour upon the concrete of the docks. There was another bang, a deeper, booming sound, and another of Adam’s fighters was thrown across the yard.

Blake looked in the direction of the shots, looking north to where Sunset and Ruby had emerged from cover and were letting loose into the confused and chaotic mass of the White Fang. Pyrrha’s rifle and Yang’s gauntlets joined the fusillade as they, drawn by the sound of shooting, lent their weapons to the assault from the south.

There was a flash, and another bang much closer to home as Torchwick fired his cane – his cane was a gun? – down at their feet. Blake felt the heat pass over her, felt a slice of her aura torn away as she was tossed sideways, rolling to a crouch, Gambol Shroud still in her hands. She saw Torchwick picking himself up not far away.

“Leave her!” Adam bellowed. “Hunt the rest down from the skies, but Blake is mine!”

Sunset’s eyes widened as the bull in black drew a tall, blood red sword from out of his scabbard.

“Let ‘em have it, Ruby!” she yelled. She’d been willing to let things play out while it seemed as though Blake might have things under control – if she’d been White Fang, maybe she could talk them down or something; maybe she could talk them into their cells – but the guy drawing his sword had made it abundantly clear that she had lost whatever control she had possessed. There was neither need nor incentive to delay. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and opened fire. Her rifle cracked as fire exploded from the muzzle, and her target fell.

Ruby planted Crescent Rose into the ground, the scythe blade digging into the tarmac to act as a monopod. She, too, began to fire, tossing fighters of the White Fang backwards as her shots found their mark. The White Fang began to scatter in confusion, some throwing themselves to the ground, some darting for their Bullheads, others running this way and that as the shock of the ambush – a shock doubled once Pyrrha and Yang opened up on them from the other side.

Sunset spotted a big faunus with a chainsaw trying to restore order amongst the White Fang; she shot him, but his aura was tougher than the others, and her bullet barely seemed to faze him at all.

There was an explosion, and both Blake and Torchwick were thrown aside. The fellow with the red sword – the leader of the White Fang, clearly – brandished it wildly above his head.

Sunset took aim at him and fired.

He turned and deflected her shot aside with a swipe of his blade.

She could see the smirk on his face from here.

Cheek.

Before she could do much more than take umbrage at the nerve of him to be so skilled, Sunset was distracted by the fact that some of the White Fang had gotten themselves organised enough to return fire, the yellow tracer rounds spitting from their boxy rifles in her and Ruby’s direction. Sunset threw out one hand, the green glow of magic engulfing it as she projected a shield in front of them against which the bullets slammed. Sunset could feel the echo of the impact reverberating through her arm.

“I think we need to move,” Sunset muttered.

The sound of engine whine caused Sunset to look to the left. “Sunset!” she cried, aiming left and up. Crescent Rose barked once, then twice as Ruby opened fire on the pair of Bullheads bearing down upon them, but even the high-calibre sniper rifle did nothing against the skin of the airships.

Sunset threw out her other hand, conjuring a second shield to their left as the Bullheads each opened fire with a pair of machine guns mounted in the nose.

So many airships, and with guns on them? How did a terrorist group get their hands on all this stuff?

“We really need to move,” Sunset declared, watching as one of the Bullheads flew straight into a drone that happened to be passing overhead. The larger airship smashed the smaller machine to pieces and continued on as though it wasn’t even there. Her shield wavered from the impact of the heavy bullets. “Hold on, Ruby!”

“Wha-?” Ruby didn’t have time to finish as Sunset dropped both shields, grabbed Ruby by the waist, and teleported away.

They reappeared only a short distance away, concealed from the airships – for now – by the labyrinthine corridors formed by the haphazard stacking of the dust containers. They were still on the north side of the dockyard, and they could hear the Bullhead engines as the White Fang airships kept up their search.

And they could hear the guns firing elsewhere in the dock.

“Jaune,” Ruby murmured. “Pyrrha, Yang.”

“Yeah,” Sunset muttered, snapping Sol Invictus open so she could reload.

“We need to help them,” Ruby cried.

“We need to reload and come up with a…” Sunset stopped as she abruptly realised where they were.

Thank you, Mister Schnee.

This, Pyrrha thought, is not going precisely to plan.

It had started off reasonably enough. Sunset had given the signal by her fire, Pyrrha and Yang had emerged from out of cover to catch the White Fang – there were an awful lot of them, more than Blake had thought would be there – in a crossfire.

And then the Bullheads had started shooting back.

Pyrrha wasn’t an expert on the White Fang, but she was reasonably sure that none of the news reports of their activities in Mistral had involved such large scale air cover. That was supposed to be Atlas’s department.

Bullets slammed into the side of the dust container just behind them. Pyrrha leapt, and as she leapt, she turned and snapped off a shot at one of those that were shooting at her, getting her man before her feet touched the ground and she started running again. Yang stopped, shots bursting from her gauntlets as she let fly at the pursuing Bullheads, but she might as well have been spitting at them for all the good that it did.

Pyrrha contemplated trying to rip them out of the sky with her semblance, but unfortunately, while she was dealing with one, the other would have emptied its rounds into her, which was to say nothing of the White Fang fighters who, conversely, she possibly could have dealt with it if it weren’t for the airships.

“Split up!” Yang yelled, turning to the right and darting into the maze of containers. One Bullhead broke off to pursue her, two more kept on the trail of Pyrrha and Jaune, who was running in front of her.

Bullets thudded into the concrete behind her, but Pyrrha was just a step ahead of them, her feet pounding as they drove her forwards.

Jaune tripped in front of her and went sprawling on the ground. Pyrrha stopped, turning at by like a bear defending her cub, and as the Bullheads bore down upon her, Pyrrha called upon her semblance.

Pyrrha’s free hand became wreathed with black outline as she called upon Polarity, the power of magnetism which she kept hidden from the world – hidden even from her own teammates – and projected it out towards the nose of the lead Bullhead.

She didn’t do much. She didn’t tear the airship from the sky any more than she tore the weapons out of the hands of her opponents in the arena. Rather, just as in the arena, she gave the airship a little nudge.

The nose of the Bullhead was thrown off course, bullets missing Jaune and Pyrrha wildly as the airship jerked, forcing its fellow following just behind to swerve to avoid a collision – which they didn’t quite avoid in any case, the two airships bumping into each other with a solid metallic thump.

Pyrrha turned her back on them as they recovered themselves, grabbing Jaune by the arm and pulling him to his feet, half-leading and half-dragging him along as they took cover amongst the shipping containers.

Twilight squeaked in alarm as the camera feed from her drone went black.

“Twilight?” Flash asked anxiously. “What’s going on?”

“I found Blake… and lost a drone,” Twilight muttered, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she vectored in several more drones towards the scene of the action. She tapped her earpiece once. “Rainbow Dash, I’ve found them!”

“Great job, Twi… wait, what do you mean you’ve found ‘them’? Who are ‘them’?”

“Blake and Team Sapphire,” Twilight replied. “They’re at the docks, fighting the White Fang.”

“You mean Blake brought the White Fang, and they’re fighting Team Sapphire?”

“No, I mean it looks as though Blake is fighting the White Fang alongside Team Sapphire,” Twilight clarified.

“But…” Rainbow muttered. “Blake is the White Fang! What’s going on over there?”

“How should I know?” snapped Twilight. She took a deep breath. “Sorry, I just…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” Twilight replied. “Or at least it might not be. I lost my drone over the docks, but before it got taken out… Rainbow Dash, the White Fang are present in strength. Like, Canterlot Wedding strength. And they have a large number of Bullheads in the air too. They’ve got Team Sapphire on the run.”

“Bullheads? Air support?” Rainbow said. “Vale,” she huffed. “Don’t worry, Twi, we’ll show them the real meaning of air support. Get some more drones overhead, keep me posted, don’t activate combat protocols until we arrive.”

“Understood,” Twilight said. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful out there,” Twilight murmured. “I don’t know what I’d… what I’d say to the girls if anything happened to you.”

For a moment, the only sound that Twilight could hear was Rainbow’s footsteps hammering on the pavement. “Don’t worry, Twilight, this isn’t going to be like last time. We’re armed, we’re ready for them, and we’ve got a guardian angel watching over us. I’ll be fine.”

“I believe you,” Twilight whispered. “Good luck out there. Good luck to all of you.”

“Copy that. Dash out.”

Twilight tapped her earpiece, ending the connection... though, of course, Rainbow could reactivate it from her end at any time. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again as she got back to work, redirecting her drones to descend upon the dockyard and get some eyes on the fighting there.

“What would Team Sapphire be doing at the docks?” Weiss asked. “And fighting the White Fang?”

“From what I saw, there were a lot of SDC containers down at the yard,” Twilight said. “Maybe they were trying to stop the White Fang from robbing them?”

“That’s not their job,” Flash muttered.

“They appear to have made it their job,” Twilight replied.

Flash groaned. “Sunset, why do you always have to be so reckless?” he asked rhetorically. He paced up and down, turning rapidly upon his toes. “Twilight, how bad is it down there?”

“Pretty bad,” Twilight admitted. “If the White Fang didn’t have air support, that would be one thing, but as it is, there doesn’t seem to be any way that-”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Flash said, walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Weiss called. “Where-? Are you going down there?”

“In my car, I might be able to make it in time,” Flash declared.

“In time for what?” Weiss demanded.

“I don’t know,” Flash admitted. “But I… whatever Sunset and I… I can’t just let her die and do nothing.”

“Of course not,” Weiss murmured. “Then I’m coming with you.”

Flash’s blue eyes widened. “Weiss-”

“I’m a huntress, and I’ll not leave fellow huntresses in jeopardy,” Weiss declared. “Furthermore, as I am your team leader, either I go, or you don’t.” She tilted her chin upwards and looked down at him – somehow, Twilight wasn’t quite sure how she was managing to do that – as if daring him to take issue with it.

Flash nodded. “I’ll be glad to have you. Twilight, will you-?”

“I’ll be fine,” Twilight assured them. “Go.”

“But we’re not driving; it will take too long,” Weiss said.

“Then how-”

“Do you remember what happened before our first Combat Class?” Weiss asked.

Flash’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t see any alternative,” Weiss replied.

Flash hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“What are you guys-?” Twilight began.

“You don’t want to know,” Flash assured her, before they left.

Twilight Sparkle watched as they both disappeared out of the RSPT dorm room. She didn’t know whether to wish them luck or hope that they arrived late. Hopefully, by the time they did get there, the situation in the air would be a little less hostile.

Of course, there was something else that she could do for everyone… even if they wouldn’t necessarily appreciate it.

She picked up her scroll and called Professor Ozpin.

Now that her attention had been drawn towards the docks, Rainbow could see all of the Bullheads buzzing above it like angry wasps, searchlights blazing and machine guns firing. Rainbow couldn’t help but wonder what the neighbours thought; it wasn’t as if the area by the docks was completely deserted.

Hiding under their beds, maybe.

“I don’t understand how the White Fang have so many airships,” Penny said, keeping pace with Rainbow Dash as the latter ran without the aid of her semblance, so as not to leave her teammates behind. “Aren’t they supposed to be terrorists?”

“Valish sloppiness,” Ciel declared. “Atlas would never allow so much dangerous hardware to fall into the wrong hands. Rainbow Dash, what is the plan?”

“You’re going to get up onto high ground and signal the Gallant to clear the skies,” Rainbow ordered. “Once that’s done, we’ll back up Team Sapphire and rout the enemy.” She’d flesh out that last part once Twilight’s drones started giving her a more detailed sitrep.

“Understood,” Ciel acknowledged. “What do you mean to do about Belladonna?”

“I… I don’t know yet,” Rainbow admitted. “By the sounds of it, Blake is the least of our problems. Let’s worry about her after we deal with the more obvious bad guys.”

“A reasonable decision.”

“Are you ready for this, Penny?” Rainbow asked, because this would be Penny’s first time in a live fire situation.

“I’m combat ready.”

“Penny,” Rainbow said sharply. “Look at me.” They kept running, even though their heads were turned towards one another, Penny’s green eyes locked with Rainbow’s magenta orbs. “This is serious. This isn’t school or a training exercise or a tournament. This is life and death. Are you ready for this?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “How will I know if I’m ready?” she asked.

Well, Twi, I guess this is where we find out if Penny has a reason to fight. Rainbow’s lip twitched. “You won’t until you get in there. But don’t worry too much. You’ll be okay, so long as you do three things: keep an eye on your aura level, show no mercy, and remember what you’re fighting for.”

“I do,” Penny declared. She hesitated. “Will we be in time to save our friends?”

Rainbow grinned. “Sure we will, Penny; heroes always arrive in the nick of time to save the day. And saving the day is just what Atlas does.”

Torchwick laughed as Team SAPR and Yang were chased around the dockyard by the White Fang Bullheads, and by some of the White Fang fighters too, although most of them seemed preoccupied with trying to attach some of the big SDC dust containers to the unengaged airships.

Blake watched as the battle – if you could call this uneven contest a battle – swirled around her, but touched her not.

It touched her not because Adam had commanded it so, and Adam was the lord of the Vale Chapter whom none dared defy.

Except that she had defied him, and now, he meant to make her rue it.

His smile was as sharp as his sword. “If you were counting on your friends to overwhelm me, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Although, I’m a little disappointed that you’d try. It’s better this way. We should settle this alone.”

“She’s not alone!”

Oh no, Blake thought, as a banana sailed out of the dark to splatter across Adam’s mask, blocking his eye slits. Adam cursed as Sun leapt down from on top of a container, one foot outstretched for a flying kick.

Adam stepped back, sensing the incoming assault even blinded, sidestepping nimbly so that Sun struck the unoccupied ground where Adam had been standing.

His back was to Adam.

“Sun!” Blake shrieked.

Adam slashed, his red blade streaking through the night. Sun leapt forwards, away from the blow, but not fast enough to completely avoid the stroke, as the impact sent him flying rolling across the ground.

Adam tore the banana from off his mask, casting it aside. An angry growl escaped his lips.

Blake lunged to her feet and charged at him, Gambol Shroud in one hand and her cleaver in the other, arms pounding as she closed the distance between them, slashing with her black blade.

Adam turned with preternatural swiftness, parrying with Blush, the scabbard of his sword, before slashing at her with Wilt. His blade passed through a clone as the real Blake made a spinning kick aimed at his side, but Adam twisted nimbly out of the way so that her foot passed through the empty air. He kicked upwards, connecting with her leg, knocking Blake off balance. He levelled Blush, which was also a gun, at her chest and fired. Blake winced in pain as she felt the barking blow hammer into her aura, knocking her backwards, first onto her back and then her front as she was tossed head over heels.

Sun charged, the staff in his hands spinning. It whirled in his grasp, a blur of motion, but Adam was just as swift, if not swifter still. Sun’s staff struck again and again, and again and again, Adam parried with his blood red blade, blocking every blow. He looked almost bored as he endured Sun’s fury, like a mountain enduring the futile hammering of the wind.

Blake regained her feet and went to Sun’s aid, attacking Adam from behind, sword and cleaver alike both slashing through the air.

But Adam was the equal of both of them, the greatest warrior in the White Fang, perhaps one of the great warriors of the age. Maybe Pyrrha would have been a match for him, his speed, his strength, but Blake and Sun were not. Blake used her clones to nimbly move from one position to the next, to come at him from angles that he did not expect, but he always did seem to expect it, to be in position to parry her next stroke, to counter at the place where she would be, not where she had been. Sun whirled his staff from every direction, but no stroke landed.

Not only were they not making any impression upon Adam that Blake could tell, but she was finding it difficult to avoid his blows, to dodge or to parry. When their blades clashed, she could feel the force of his hideous strength jarring down her arm, making her aura tremble, and she was sure that he must be weakening Sun’s aura at least a little too.

Sun’s staff split in two, and then those two halves each split again into a pair of nunchucks, a pair of nunchucks with guns in them which Sun fired one, two, three, four into Adam’s chest.

Or they were aimed at his chest. Adam’s Wilt, his red sword, took the blows, and as Sun fired his four shots, the blade glowed brighter and brighter with a lava-like intensity.

Sun stared, boggling at the failure of his ace in the hole.

“Thank you,” Adam said, before he raised Blush and shot Sun twice in the chest, blasting him backwards.

“Sun!” Blake cried, before Adam whirled on her and struck her across the side of the head with Blush, knocking her to the ground.

“You chose that!” Adam roared. “You chose that over me!”

Blake pushed herself to her knees. “It’s not about that. Adam, you’ve let your hate consume you! Can’t you see how much of a monster you’ve become?”

“Then I am a monster that men have made,” Adam shouted. “A monument to all their sins. I am what happens when the underdog bites back. I may be a monster, Blake, but what about those who made me monstrous by wounding me… what about you?”

Blake could only stare up at him, wide-eyed, wondering what he meant to do to her.

“I should strip away everything you love,” Adam murmured. “I should hunt down every last person you care about, until you are all alone and your heart has turned to ash and you will know the debt is paid. I loved you, once.”

“I believed it so,” Blake murmured.

“And I believed it of you, also, and was the more deceived,” Adam replied. “And yet, out of love, I will spare you the suffering that you deserve.” He raised his gleaming sword above his head. “I’ll kill you now and end it quickly!”

A scarlet laser beam split the night sky, lancing into a Bullhead which exploded in a shower of molten fragments.

Blake’s eyes widened, but Adam seemed undeterred.

The sword swept down.

A rainbow flashed before Blake’s eyes.

The progress of the blade was arrested as it slammed into the gloved forearm of Rainbow Dash.

The Atlesian girl growled as she struggled against Adam’s strength, her arm trembling just a little as the sword pressed down upon her.

Blake gasped. “Rainbow… Dash?”

Rainbow glanced over her shoulder, the intense look on her face replaced momentarily by a cocky grin.

Rainbow winked at her. “I’ll be right with you,” she said, before turning her attention to Adam once more. “I just gotta take out the trash, first.”

Ciel Soleil climbed up the metal ladder that ran up the outside of the HM Customs office that sat upon the edge of the dockyards. It was a large building, which, when open, housed enough staff to process all the goods passing through the docks at maximum capacity and any duties that might accrue to them.

Fortunately, it was unoccupied that night. The last thing the situation needed was for the White Fang to take hostages.

She climbed. The metal was cold against her fingers, as cold as the night itself. Her breath turned to a light mist as she climbed. It was cold here, but not as cold as the northern wastes where only the hardiest of flowers bloomed.

Ciel climbed, and as she climbed, she prayed.

Lady of the North, strengthen the arms of my Atlesian sisters, let their hearts be gold and their wits be sharp.

Lady of the North, strike confusion into the hearts of our enemies and bless us that we may confound their designs and thwart their plans against us.

Lady of the North, watch over us with thy benevolent grace.

Lady of the North, accept my offering of skill and valour and deeds done in the service of Atlas.

Not many people were religious these days, but Ciel Soleil was not most people; she had no doubt that there was some power watching over the great-hearted children of the north, guarding them, guiding them, urging them on to victory after victory.

She hoped the Lady would be pleased with the work they did tonight.

Ciel gained the roof of the customs building and crouched down as she crept across the flat roof until she was overlooking the dockyard.

She could see the Bullheads swarming overhead like angry wasps. Some of them were having dust containers attached to them, others were engaging targets on the ground – Team Sapphire, presumably. Ciel doubted they had the heavy weapons necessary to adequately engage airships.

She herself had such a weapon; Distant Thunder, which unfolded in her arms to its quite prodigious length, could easily penetrate the armour on a Bullhead. But that would draw attention to herself, and she didn’t have the fast rate of fire to clear the skies swiftly.

No, they had another method in mind to deal with the impertinence of the White Fang.

It was time to remind these scoundrels who controlled the skies.

Ciel tapped her earpiece twice. One tap was for the Team RSPT private channel, two taps was for the Atlesian secure channel one. “This is Rosepetal Two to Gallant, requesting a fire mission. Verification Tango-Sierra-Alpha-Indigo-One-Seven-Two.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Verification accepted, Rosepetal Two. This is Gallant Actual, what do you need?”

“I’m at the Vale docks. There are multiple hostile airships engaging ground targets, danger close,” Ciel said. “Requesting sky clearance.”

Another pause. “Airships detected. IFFs show Valish civilian ID.”

“Airships White Fang and hostile,” Ciel declared. “Repeat, request sky clearance.”

“Copy, Rosepetal Two, this is Gallant Fire Control. Tagging airships as hostiles. Locking main guns.”

“Affirmative, Gallant,” Ciel replied. “Fire at will.”

The Gallant was an Atlesian Skylord-class air cruiser, currently stationed off the coast of Vale. It had flown Team RSPT – minus Penny – to Vale for her retrieval, and when the decision had been made that RSPT should stay in Vale, the Gallant had – with the full and express permission of the Vale Council – remained also. Because one never knew when the support of a man-of-war might come in handy, for extraction or, as now, for fire support.

It was but a moment later when the first scarlet laser beam from the Gallant’s main battery pierced the darkness of the night to hit, with absolute precision, one of the White Fang Bullheads.

Another beam soon followed, and another Bullhead went up in flames. By now, the White Fang pilots were struggling to react... or more accurately, to evade the fire that was raining down on them from far beyond their range.

But they could not escape. Every laser beam hit home, and with every strike, another Bullhead fell.

Weiss kept her face straight as the locker shot through the skies of Vale at terrific speeds, covering the massive distance between Beacon and the docks with all due swiftness. Unfortunately, the distance was still great enough that they had several minutes between launching and arriving at the combat zone. Time enough for her to think of what she was going to do.

Priority one was to assess the situation and identify the locations of both allies and enemies. Priority two was to link up with the closest allied forces and assist them as necessary, Priority three was to stop the White Fang in their tracks.

A shudder ran through the terrifyingly coffin-shaped locker. Weiss could feel her heart thudding in her chest even faster than it had before. What was happening? Did Winter feel like this at all?

Winter. She had to be like Winter. She was calm. She was grace. All the glories of the Schnee legacy resided in her spirit. She was all that was good in the world, and she would oppose all the evil in the world.

The locker rotated, and through the slits, she could see the lights of the city of Vale at night. Humanity, or at least a fourth of it, was laid out in front of her. All those glimmering lights that she had sworn to protect. At least, she had sworn to protect them in her mind and heart, but the official oaths at graduation would mean nothing if they weren’t first made within.

The locker shifted into a sudden downward direction, and Weiss had barely enough time to realize that before her flying coffin slammed into the ground.

Somehow, through means she couldn’t begin to understand at that moment, she had survived, and with only a minimal jolt as well. The locker door was stuck, and she could hear all manner of racket outside, so she threw an aura enhanced kick into the thin metal blocking her way. It dented, and she hit it again. It bent, and she hit it again. The door flew open, and she exited the locker to find that she had jumped feet first into hell.

There was sound and fury everywhere. The booming of firearms and the ringing of swords echoed throughout. One of the Bullheads that the White Fang had been using had been shot down, and in its burning fragments, she could see the corpse of a faunus laying in twain with a piece of shrapnel almost as big as Weiss herself embedded nearby as the clear culprit.

A logical part of Weiss’s mind noted that this was good, as that was one less opponent to face. An emotional part of Weiss’s mind noted that the poor unfortunate soul had raccoon ears, just like Laberna Seacole, and brought forth a dozen happy images of her nanny’s smiling face as she told her that she would always love her no matter what. An instinctual part of Weiss’s mind deflected an attack from a White Fang member with a lizard tail and a machete before stabbing back with a flurry of attacks that dropped his aura and knocked him to the ground.

Her opponent was down. Neutralized. Onto the next threat. Keep moving.

She found Flash within the next few seconds. Now she had to find the others. It was chaos around them, but they had to rise above it.

Sunset gritted her teeth as she hauled open the doors of the blue SDC-branded shipping container. The doors creaked and squealed against their hinges as she pulled them open, but they yielded before her, and the door opened to reveal, hidden in the darkness within, crates and crates – still branded with the Schnee snowflake, lest you forget – of ice dust.

“Alright,” Sunset said gleefully. “I think we can work with this.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Ruby asked anxiously.

“It should work,” Sunset said guardedly. “Plus… we can’t shoot them down, my semblance isn’t powerful enough to take them out, and while I could try just throwing the containers at them, I think this should work better. We don’t have a lot of other options here.” Plus, I always wanted to give dust a chance.

She glanced down at Ruby. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, you’re right. This is the best plan we have, and I’ll do what I can to make it work. Are you ready?”

“Not quite yet,” Sunset said. Her hands glowed with magic, and the crates popped open, the lids falling open to reveal the ice blue powder within.

Sunset raised her hands, and the dust rose with it.

“Now I’m ready,” Sunset said, striding back out of the container. “Let’s go.”

“Right,” Ruby agreed, pointing Crescent Rose at the ground and firing, using the force of the recoil to carry her upwards and onto the roof of a nearby red shipping container.

She spun Crescent Rose in her hands, planting the scythe blade into the metal beneath her. “Hey!” she yelled, as she opened fire on the nearest Bullhead, the shot of her rifle barking in the night as the bullets struck futilely against the airship’s skin.

The spotlight shone on Ruby Rose a moment before the Bullhead, like a shark, began to turn towards her. Its engines levelled horizontally as it closed in.

Ruby jumped, leaping off the container ahead of the bullets which spat from the machine guns to rip into the container’s sheet metal.

Sunset raised her hands, and as she raised her hands, she threw with telekinesis all the ice dust at the Bullhead. It streamed out of the container in a pair of crystalline serpents, flowing through the air, moving greedily towards the Bullhead, surrounding it, engulfing it.

Sunset didn’t use dust. The fact of the matter was that she couldn’t afford it. But right now, she had all the dust in Remnant to play with, courtesy of the SDC, and she was looking forward to having some fun with it.

Starting right now.

A spark of magic leapt from the tip of Sunset’s finger, flying through the chill night air to strike the cloud of dust that swirled about the Bullhead. A spark of magic to charge the dust and turn it all to ice, a great ball of ice from which the spikes shot outwards like a morningstar as the Bullhead was consumed by it.

“Yes!” Sunset yelled, pumping her fist as the Bullhead in its ball of ice dropped like a stone. “One down!” She held out her fist to Ruby. “Don’t mess with us, right?”

“Yeah!” Ruby agreed gleefully as she bumped Sunset’s fist.

A red laser beam, originating somewhere out to sea, emerged from out of dark to destroy a Bullhead in a single shot. Another followed, and then another, and two more Bullheads were turned to fireballs descending to the ground as more crimson laser beams erupted from over the ocean, targeting the Bullheads with precision even as they tried to evade the fire that had suddenly started tearing them apart.

“What is this?” Ruby muttered.

“It’s covering fire from our support cruiser, the Gallant,” Penny explained, as she vaulted over a green shipping container, arms spread out on either side of her, and landed gracefully on her feet. “It’s stationed off shore and is going to clear the skies for us.”

“Penny?” Ruby gasped.

“Hello, Ruby,” Penny said cheerfully. “Are you hurt?”

“No, Penny, I’m-”

“Wonderful!” Penny cried, grabbing Ruby by the head and pulling her into a hug, pressing Ruby’s face into her chest as she swayed gently back and forth. “I was so worried that we were going to be too late, but it’s just like Rainbow Dash said: heroes arrive in the nick of time.”

“I’ll bet she said that,” Sunset muttered.

“Excuse me: hello to you, too, Sunset.”

“Hi, Penny,” Sunset said. “Can you let Ruby go before she suffocates?”

Penny gasped. “I’m so sorry!” she cried as she released Ruby.

“It’s okay, Penny,” Ruby gasped, as she took a step back. “But what are you doing here?”

“Saving the day!” Penny declared, throwing a salute. “Because that is what Atlas does!”

“We definitely need to get you away from Rainbow Dash,” Sunset said. “But maybe later; for now, since your friendly neighbourhood cruiser is clearing the skies, do you want to help us clear the ground?”

Penny beamed. “Absolutely.”

The distinctive sounds of Yang’s Ember Celica told Pyrrha that Yang had worked out the same thing as she had: with the White Fang’s airships dropping like flies, courtesy of their unseen friend in high places, now was the time for a counterattack. It was true that the Bullheads had had them on the run, but now, this was becoming a straightforward contest on the ground, and on the ground, Pyrrha feared no enemy.

Although she was a little concerned about Jaune in these conditions.

“Stay close to me,” she urged him as she led the way, with him behind her, out of the warren of containers and into the wide open space on the north side of the docks near the customs office. There, she could see Rainbow Dash – Team Rosepetal was here – battling with a faunus with a crimson sword while Sun dragged Blake to safety. She could also see Yang, her hair ablaze, battling with numerous members of the White Fang, punching them clear across the docks with gauntlets barking.

Without wishing to demean Yang’s skill, that told Pyrrha that their enemies were none too impressive. It made her feel better already.

She led the way into the fight, raising her voice in challenge so the White Fang would have someone besides Yang to focus on. It worked; her call was answered by a swarm of faunus in those white grimm masks, their faces hidden and their heads concealed, so that they almost looked like monsters rather than men.

But they were not monsters, and she had never lost a fight against a man yet.

Pyrrha met their charge, dashing towards them, her gilded armour gleaming in the moonlight, Akoúo̱ held before her and Miló in spear mode drawn back to strike. She struck one opponent square in the chest with her shield, knocking him backwards before turning out her toe, her spear lashing out to catch two enemies with it and toss them aside. An enemy slashed at her, but wildly, and she had no need of her semblance to evade the blow before sweeping his legs out from under him and slamming her shield into his face to knock him to the ground.

Bullets slammed into the ground near her feet. Pyrrha leapt aside, rolling to a stop, Miló transforming to rifle mode in her hands as she fired a shot to knock the White Fang rifleman off his feet. She threw her shield at a rabbit faunus charging towards her with an axe; no one seemed to notice when it flew back to her waiting arm after knocking the White Fang fighter out cold.

She glanced at Jaune; he was fending off a stag faunus with an impressive set of antlers but, it seemed, little knowledge of how to use the short, curved blade he was holding. Pyrrha was rapidly coming to the conclusion that these White Fang fighters were not particularly skilled.

She was distracted by another attempt to attack her, as two more fighters of the White Fang fell upon her before she dealt with them almost immediately, having the leisure to then watch as Jaune swept the blade out of the hand of his impressively-antlered opponent and batter him into submission with his shield.

He’s doing so well.

Unfortunately, the next opponent who sought Jaune out did not seem to be so unskilled as the rest of this rabble, who were so useless that Pyrrha wondered why the White Fang had even brought them here. Jaune’s next opponent held his katana in such a way as to suggest that he knew how to use it, and he moved in such a likewise fashion.

Pyrrha would let Jaune try his strength, but she would also intervene if she thought that an opponent was beyond him; she wasn’t about to let him get hurt, or worse, because he had gotten in over his head.

It took her all of two strikes, in which Jaune’s new opponent set him reeling backwards, trying desperately to parry, to decide that this was one of those moments.

Pyrrha ran towards the developing battle. A wolf faunus tried to bar her way, a knife in one hand and an axe in the other. His tail wagged back and forth eagerly as he slashed at her with the axe, trying to split her head in two as the knife darted towards her eyes. Pyrrha stepped back, and with a deft touch of polarity shifted the blow of the axe off course and away from her so that it passed down beside her and left her opponent’s guard open. She drove her spear forward, Miló extending outwards by a foot with a bang to strike him in the chest and hurl him back. Pyrrha leapt over him, her feet pounding on the tarmac as she ran towards Jaune and his unequal battle.

Another fighter of the White Fang got in her way, a rabbit faunus with a pink cape that fluttered behind her as she swung at Pyrrha with a great stone hammer – a hammer with a gun on the other end which she fired as the hammer reversed itself. Fortunately, the barrel was made of metal, and Pyrrha was able to ensure it missed, even at such close range. The rabbit swung the hammer at her again, cracking the tarmac with the force of her impact. Pyrrha leapt onto the hammer, dashing up the shaft to kick her White Fang opponent in the face hard enough to make the other girl drop her weapon as she flew into the air.

Pyrrha was getting close to Jaune now. Her hand was wreathed in the darkness of her semblance as she turned the blows of the bespectacled swordsman’s katana away from him, closing the distance and slamming her shield into the other man’s head. He was knocked into the nearest shipping container so hard that the metal crumpled beneath the impact.

“Thanks for the assist,” Jaune said nervously.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for leaving you alone; I should have stayed with you,” Pyrrha said.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for slowing you down,” Jaune replied. He looked anxiously at the three, somewhat skilled faunus who had all recovered themselves somewhat and were now closing in on Pyrrha and Jaune. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

Pyrrha gave a small smile. “Don’t worry, Jaune. I’ve got this.”

She attacked, her red sash flying behind her as she feinted towards the wolf faunus in the centre, jabbing with her spear before switching Miló from spear to sword form to round upon the swordsman with the katana. Their blades clashed once, twice, three times, crashing together before Pyrrha found an opening, dealing several swift slashing strokes across his chest to drive him back in disorder. The wolf faunus with the axe and the knife in his off-hand tried to come at her from the side, but Pyrrha nimbly dodged his downward stroke and threw Akoúo̱ straight into his face, hurling him backwards. Miló switched from sword to spear mode in Pyrrha’s hands as she parried the hammer-blow of the caped rabbit faunus, turning the stroke aside and spinning, her flame-coloured hair whirling around her, to hit her opponent across the jaw with her spearbutt. Her opponent staggered. Pyrrha hit her again with the butt of the spear, beneath the jaw, lifting her up into the air. Pyrrha leapt upwards, higher than her foe, descending downwards upon her like a thunderbolt, driving Miló into the chest of her foe as she bore her enemy down with such force that the dockyard surface split beneath them.

Miló switched from spear to rifle mode as she shot the swordsman once to render him incapable.

Her last shot was for the wolf faunus, who tried to rise unsteadily to his feet as Akoúo̱ flew back into Pyrrha’s hand.

Jaune gasped in awed admiration. “That was… awesome!”

Pyrrha felt a faint blush rising to her cheeks. He thinks I’m awesome. Success! “It’s… all in a day’s work, I suppose,” she said modestly. “But the night’s not over yet.”

Ruby cut swathes through the White Fang, red rose petals trailing behind her as she scythed through their ranks. Penny’s backpack opened up to reveal a dozen swords on wires which she wielded like drones, slicing through the masses of the White Fang to send them flying like bowling pins, or else, the swords collapsed into carbines from which green laser beams spat. Actual drones circled overhead, opening fire with small arms emerging from beneath their squat bodies. Green blasts similar to Penny’s – only this time of magic, not lasers – flew from the palms and fingers of Sunset Shimmer, landing like grenades amongst the enemy, kicking up dust and fragments of concrete. And that was before Sunset decided to open up another container of actual dust – fire dust this time – and start getting some use out of it before the SDC decided to charge. She twirled in place, scattering the fire dust in lines with her telekinesis, activating it with her magic to set off smoky explosions to hurl the White Fang into confusion, or else, she tossed crystals into their masses wherever they tried to gather in a group and then setting it off like a bomb.

I wish I could use dust more often, Sunset thought.

These White Fang fighters were really no good at all, and some of them seem to know that, because as they were assailed by Ruby’s speeding scythe, Penny’s striking swords, Sunset’s magic and… appropriated dust, more and more of them began to break for the few surviving Bullheads which began to lift off, leaving the precious dust behind, dodging – or trying to dodge – the laser fire of the Gallant as they made a break for freedom and an escape from the trap in which they had been caught.

Roman Torchwick was one of them. Sunset could see him walking away. Walking, not running, as though he had some kind of regard for his dignity as a master criminal. He was walking towards a Bullhead, and as much as he might deserve to get blown to smithereens by a shot from an Altesian laser cannon, as Sunset watched one Bullhead make it out of the line of fire through skilful manoeuvring and some very good luck, she didn’t really want to take the risk.

She watched which Bullhead he was heading for, and as he climbed inside, she teleported.

Sunset appeared in a crack and a burst of green light right in front of him, Sol Invictus pointed in his face.

“Going somewhere?” she asked, before she shot him twice in the chest and blasted him clean out of the bullhead to skid along the ground.

Torchwick reached for his cane, but Sunset hit it with a blast of magic to send it skittering away from him as he strode across the dockyard to plant her foot upon his chest and her gun and bayonet in his face.

“I don’t see your little friend around anywhere,” Sunset observed.

“An absence I am beginning to regret,” Torchwick muttered. “I don’t suppose I can tempt you to switch sides with some talk of injustice against the faunus?”

“Not a chance,” Sunset said. The White Fang had done nothing but make her life harder by giving people a reason to be racist; she wasn’t about to start doing them any favours now.

“Figures,” Torchwick moaned. “Still, it was worth a shot, right?”

“Shut up,” Sunset snapped.

“So, what’s the plan?” Torchwick asked. “You’ve caught me, and now what?”

“Now, in case you hadn’t noticed, my friends are currently kicking the ass of your minions.”

“Sure they are, but then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to club you into unconsciousness if you don’t shut up!”

“Sunset, he’s coming at you!”

Rainbow felt the pressure of the sword upon her arm. She could feel it cutting through her aura. She didn’t know how this guy was doing it, but if she hadn’t concentrated her aura to her forearm, then he might have taken her hand off.

As it was, she’d stopped the blow, and she still had some aura left, so that was a win.

Now she just had to win the fight.

“You won’t regret this, sir.”

Rainbow cocked her head slightly. Red hair, red sword… was this Adam Taurus? Wanted for just about everything in every kingdom Adam Taurus.

I guess this is my lucky day.

I’m glad Twilight’s not here.

Adam’s face contorted with irritation. “And who the hell are you?”

“Rainbow Dash, Atlas Academy,” Rainbow declared proudly.

Adam bared his teeth. “A faunus betraying-”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll blow your kneecaps off on principle,” Rainbow growled.

Adam exhaled through his nostrils. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Rainbow smirked. “Neither do you, buddy.”

“Then show me, dog of the Atlesian military!” Adam snarled, stepping back and drawing back his sword for a slashing stroke.

Rainbow didn’t give him the chance. She activated her semblance and instantly the whole world was plunged into syrup. She could see Adam’s sword descending, but slowly, oh so slowly. Too slowly. A rainbow glowed around Dash, and trailed behind her as she closed the distance faster than his eyes could follow, slamming her fists into his gut once, twice, three times until he was doubled over, winded, and she swung a right hook for his jaw.

Adam caught the blow with his black gloved hand. He slashed at Rainbow with his sword. Rainbow caught the blow in her left hand, feeling her aura drop as a result. The two struggled against each other, grappling, their hands locked. Rainbow kicked off the ground, slamming her forehead into Adam’s mask. He recoiled, releasing her.

Rainbow flew upwards, a short jet burst from the engine of the Wings of Harmony carrying her upwards, spinning over Adam’s head as she drew her SMGs, Brutal Honesty in her left hand and Plain Awesome on her right, and as her arc carried her above and behind him, Rainbow spun in the air and opened up on Adam Taurus.

Perhaps some of her bullets hit home; it was hard to tell because he turned so fast, his red sword whirling through the air, tracing blood red lines in the darkness as he deflected her shots.

He raised his gun at her, and Rainbow’s Wings of Harmony unfurled to carry her up into the air as his shot passed beneath her feet.

“Kill this traitor to our race!” Adam bellowed at the few men he had left.

They might have been borderline incompetent, they might have been mostly taken out by Team SAPR, by Penny, or by Ciel, who was sniping them from the roof of the Customs building with a gun that was much bigger than she needed, but the few fighters that the White Fang had left had guts. They didn’t hesitate to raise their rifles into the air and start shooting, tracer rounds leaping into the sky.

Rainbow grinned, despite the severity of the situation. She was glad the White Fang had given her a chance to fly. She soared in a circle, wings outstretched, jinking first to the left and then to the right, diving down and then rising up, firing with both guns all the while, strafing the ground-bound fighters who tried to shoot up at her until all the ones with guns were down on the ground and most of the ones with blades as well.

Her pistols were empty, so Rainbow holstered them both and dropped to the ground, kicking a couple of guys with swords they looked as though they couldn’t use in the face as she did so. Rainbow drew her shotgun, Unfailing Loyalty, over her shoulder and pumped it just as the White Fang attacked her. She shot one guy in the chest, pumped her shotgun, hit another guy in the face with the stock, then clubbed a third with the barrel. She held Unfailing Loyalty in one hand as she shot someone else with it, then backhanded a fifth guy into insensibility

She pumped her shotgun again as she faced Adam.

They called him the Sword of the Faunus, but Rainbow Dash remembered something that the General had told her once: when she went to war, she was more than just a huntress, more than just an Atlesian soldier; she was Atlas itself, the embodiment of the Kingdom at war. So he could be the Sword of the Faunus, although he’d never done anything for this faunus; he could be the sword of those that would have him, because Rainbow Dash was the gauntlet of Atlas, part of the armour of Atlas. The strength of the north kingdom flowed through her veins, and nothing would stop her.

Only the revving of a chainsaw alerted Rainbow Dash to the attempt to blindside her by a guy who was as big as General Ironwood and just as surprisingly fast, for all that he was lumbered with, well, a clumsy chainsaw for a weapon. He was nevertheless able to drive Rainbow back as he brandished it like a burning brand in the face of an animal.

“Adam, go!” he bellowed. “Get out of here!”

Adam didn’t argue; he began to run for one of the last waiting Bullheads that might get him away.

Or they might get him killed, but Rainbow didn’t want to take the chance. She shot the big guy in the chest with Unfailing Loyalty; amazingly, he took it without much fuss, barely taking half a step backwards before he slashed at her with his chainsaw again. Rainbow retreated, jogging back a few steps before she rushed forwards. She fired again, and once again, the big guy took the shell to the chest and barely flinched from it.

He swung his chainsaw. Rainbow ducked beneath the swing, pirouetting around the guy to lash out with one foot, kicking him in the back of the knee. That did something; he dropped to one knee with a groan of pain as Rainbow shot him again, knocking him onto his side.

“Protect Adam!” he cried.

Rainbow heard the crunch of footsteps on the tarmac surface of the dockyard. Two White Fang fighters with blades gleaming charged at her. Unfailing Loyalty barked once, hurling one of her enemies backwards. Rainbow pumped the shotgun and fired again, taking care of the second guy, but by the time she’d done that, the big guy with the chainsaw was on his feet again.

And all her guns were out of ammo.

Dammit!

The big guy swung his chainsaw. Rainbow avoided the clumsy blow easily and punched him square in the chest.

And as she punched, she used the last of her aura for an aura boom, the power of her soul erupting out of her in a blast, accompanied by a sound like thunder, a blast which sent the big guy and his chainsaw flying into a dust container so hard that metal crumpled underneath him.

But he had beaten her nonetheless, because now, her aura was gone.

And Adam had nearly reached the Bullhead.

Precognition on!

Ciel’s eyes glowed a more intense than usual shade of blue as she activated her semblance. She hadn’t needed it so far, but as Adam Taurus made his escape, she might need it now.

She could see him. She could see not only where Adam was but also where he was going. She could see the echo of his future self running ahead of him, she could mark how he tried to dodge any fire with his movements, and despite his best efforts, she knew exactly where to hit him.

She aimed for where he would be by the time Distant Thunder’s round had travelled through the air and fired.

Distant Thunder roared. An armour-piercing round travelled through the air, bearing straight for the location of Adam Taurus as he stepped into the line of fire.

And parried the shot. His red sword cut through the air, sliced into the bullet and a round that should have knocked the blade out of his hand if not shattered it into pieces… it was if she’d shot a pea-shooter at him. His sword glowed a smouldering shade of red.

Ciel ejected the cartridge, which slammed into the rooftop beside her. She released the breach, chambering a new round. She aimed again. Lady of the North, let me strike true. She fired again. Distant Thunder bellowed to the heavens once again.

And once again, Adam’s sword cut through the air and sliced away her shot as the blade glowed redder still.

What manner of demon is this?

It almost seemed to Ciel that he was smiling at her as he resumed his journey towards the Bullhead.

“Sunset, he’s coming at you!” Rainbow yelled.

Sunset kept one foot planted on Torchwick’s chest as she aimed Sol Invictus at the faunus with the red sword, the one who had started his fight when he drew his blade on Blake.

She fired. Once, twice, three times until the chamber of Sol Invictus were empty, and Adam’s sword only seemed to be glowing brighter and brighter with every shot that seemed attracted to the blade instead of the man who wielded it. Green laser bolts leapt from Penny’s cut down weapons, but he parried them to, the blasts being absorbed by that blood red sword.

Sunset slung her rifle onto her shoulder and threw out both her palms, a beam of magic lancing out to fly… into that sword which drank it all so greedily, which ate her power as though its appetite was bottomless, which consumed it all as though it were some living blade, some artefact of magic forged and wound about with spells to guard its master well.

And as Sunset’s magic sputtered and died, the sword began to glow a bright and shining crimson.

And not just the blade; the red hair of her enemy now burned like fire, and the lines upon his mask, they glowed like hot coals.

Sunset had the feeling that she had screwed up.

She wasn't entirely sure what she'd done or if there was any way she could have seen it coming, but she guessed he wasn't lighting up like that to attract a mate.

And then he smiled at her the way that a shark might smile at a minnow or a cat at a mouse, and Sunset knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had screwed up.

And then he charged.

Sunset had known fear before. The first time that she'd ever seen a grimm, she had been terrified. She'd been afraid every time she had to walk home in the dark and there had been any human men close by. But nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to how afraid she felt in that moment as her whole world turned as red as blood, save for the man who came to kill her. Everything slowed, everything but the man with the sword himself, rendered as dark as death against the crimson that had consumed the world, bearing down upon her swifter than he had ever moved before.

Sunset was rooted to the spot. She couldn't move, couldn't defend herself; she could only watch with mounting terror as he descended upon her and know, know with absolute certainty, that her blood would soon be used to paint the world as red as it now seemed to her.

"Sunset, no!" Ruby cried, as she struck Sunset in a burst of rose petals, pushing her out of Adam's path.

She was not quite fast enough - or Adam was too fast, and his semblance made others too slow - to get fully out of the way herself.

Ruby shrieked in pain, her voice as high as a whistle as the red sword clove through her semblance and sliced through her side.

Ruby struck the ground with a solid thump, her lifeblood pooling around her.

Already, her skin was starting to pale, and the rose petals that now fell to the ground around her were all wilted.

“RUBY!”

Adam leapt aboard the Bullhead as it took off, rising into the air and heading out towards the sea.

Ciel tapped her earpiece twice. “Rosepetal Two to Gallant, requesting fire on a priority target.”

“This is Gallant fire control, main guns are still recharging after the last fire cycle.”

“Understood,” Ciel growled. She raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder, aimed down the scope, and fired.

The first shot hit the engine on the port side of the airship. It began to burn, and the airship wobbled unsteadily as it flew out across the water.

Her second shot punched through the fuselage. So did her third.

Ciel’s semblance showed her the future echo of Adam leaping from the airship before he leapt. She fired again.

And as he fell, he did not parry.

He spun in the air, pinwheeling, arms and legs outstretched.

And then he hit the water, moments before the airship with its burning engine struck the water too.

And then there was no sign of him.

Author's Note

Credit to Cody Fett, my beta reader, for writing the scene with Weiss in the locker.

Worth (Rewritten)

Worth

The battle was over. Sun, Weiss, and Flash were keeping watch over Torchwick and the White Fang prisoners, covered by Ciel. The scream of police sirens could be heard in the distance, getting closer.

And Ruby… Ruby was dying.

Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Yang, Penny, they were all gathered around Ruby, kneeling beside or standing over her, casting their long shadows over her pale form as her blood lapped at their knees or at the edges of their shoes. Sunset’s whole body shivered with fury, while Yang cradled Ruby’s head in her hands and looked as though she was trying to find the words to speak but could not muster them. Pyrrha’s mouth was an O of trembling disbelief, while Penny’s hands were clasped over her heart.

“Please, no,” Pyrrha whispered.

“Is… is Ruby…?” Penny asked. She looked around, as if she was hoping that one of her teammates would explain this to her in a way that made sense. But Ciel was still up on the roof, and Rainbow Dash had disappeared, and there was no one to make sense of this for her. Just Ruby, bleeding in front of her.

"She's going to be fine!" Yang insisted, then looked back down at her sister. "You hear me, Ruby?" she asked quietly. "You're going to be fine."

Jaune knelt by Ruby’s side, across from Yang. Tears filled his blue eyes, making it difficult for him to see. He wiped furiously with the back of his hand, but the tears always returned as soon as he stopped wiping.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! Why was Ruby about to… why had Ruby been injured like this? Why was Ruby the one who was suffering? Why was she the one about to leave the team behind, when she was so brave and… so nice and so…

Why was Ruby leaving them, when someone as useless as him was still right here?

“Jaune?”

Jaune gasped. That was Ruby’s voice, faint and quiet and softer than it ever was before, but it was still Ruby’s voice. He wiped his eyes free of tears again, and he could see that she…she was smiling at him. It was the strangest thing. The stupidest, weirdest… sweetest thing. Ruby was… but she didn’t care. She only cared that he was upset, and so she smiled.

“Don’t cry, Jaune,” she whispered. “It’s alright.”

“No, no, it isn’t!” Jaune yelled. “This isn’t fair! It isn’t right!”

Ruby’s smile didn’t falter, not for a moment. “Don’t cry,” she repeated. “Please don’t cry. You’re so much cuter when you’re smiling.” She blinked, and Jaune could see that there were tears in her eyes too, water welling in those silver eyes that burned so brightly. “Smile for me, Jaune. Smile… and help me to be brave.”

Jaune tried to smile. He really did; he tried to honour her request. But his friend was dying in front of him, and he couldn’t help her, and he couldn’t save her, and he couldn’t help her to be brave when he couldn’t even be brave himself. He tried to smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace.

Nevertheless, Ruby said, “That’s better. Thank you, Jaune.”

“Ruby, I-”

“Is everyone here?”

Pyrrha gently reached out to take her hand. She seemed to be the only one who could muster speech. “We’re here, Ruby: me and Jaune and Sunset and Yang, and even Penny. We’re all right here.”

“Good,” Ruby murmured. “Then… I can-”

“No!” Jaune yelled. “You… you can’t just leave yet, you have to hold on.”

“I… I don’t know if I…”

“You have to!” Jaune repeated, shouting even louder now. “You have to,” he repeated with a sob, a childlike sob that begged for the reassurance of an adult to tell him that everything would be alright, that Ruby would be back on her feet and fighting fit by the next chapter.

Yang looked as though she had wept all of the tears out of herself, leaving only dry sobs behind. “It’s okay, Ruby,” she whispered, stroking her little sister’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here. We’re all right here. If it hurts… if it hurts, then close your eyes, and when you wake up… when you wake up, everything will be better.” She began to hum, a soft lullaby, a sound of peace and tranquility that seemed almost offensively out of place with everything that was going on here.

Jaune had thought that if they only lived like the heroes from the books and from comics, then they could become just like them, that even if life and the real world weren’t fairytales maybe, if you acted as though they were, you could make the world that way, at least a little bit. But this was surely the part of the story where a kid would say ‘shut the book now, Mom; we don’t want to read any more. Shut the book, but tell us that it all works out okay in the end.’

But Jaune couldn’t shut the book because this was his life, his life and his friend, and he couldn’t do anything about it! He was a useless, pathetic, pointless loser!

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, closing his eyes and clenching them tight shut.

Sunset had seen it. Sunset had tried in an imperfect way to confront him with the truth, but even she had backpedalled on it in the end, even she had decided that being nice to him was better than being right, even she had decided to humour his incompetence in the name of his ambitions. And this was the result. Perhaps… maybe if Ruby had had a fourth teammate who actually knew what he was doing, then she wouldn’t be…

Maybe a better man, a real hero, would have saved her.

“Please, Ruby,” Jaune begged, clutching her hand as though he could physically hold her back from death. “Please, you… you can’t go, you have to stay here, with us. Please, Ruby, just hang on!”

As he spoke, as he begged, as he pleaded, Jaune felt a tingling sensation in his hands, a feeling like water was running down them; not like sweat, more like he was a skin filled with water that was slowly draining out of him and into another vessel, as though the great bowl of his own power was emptying out to fill another cup beneath.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha whispered, awe-struck.

Jaune opened his eyes. He could see that around his hands, a silver light glowed, rippling and running like the water that he felt inside of him, and it was flowing over Ruby, gradually enveloping her like a cocoon, covering her wounded side, her whole body. And, as Jaune watched with eyes wide and drying out of tears, the dolorous blow that had been dealt to Ruby began to heal, closing up before his very gaze.

Then she gasped and began to twitch and jerk and writhe.

“What’s happening?” Jaune demanded.

“Don’t stop!” Pyrrha cried. “You’re stimulating her aura to heal her body; it might be painful, but it’s what she needs.” She looked up at him. “I think… you’ve just unlocked your semblance, Jaune.”

Jaune boggled. A day ago, even a few moments ago, and he would have been ecstatic at the news, but now… now all he could think of was the girl in front of him and whether she would live.

“So… Ruby’s going to be okay?”

“If you keep doing what you’re doing, she’ll be absolutely fine,” Pyrrha said, “but we need to hold her down, keep her from moving.”

They all helped: Yang, Sunset, even Penny; they grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and the feet and held her in place as Jaune’s… as Jaune’s semblance did its work. The silver waves of his semblance continued to wash over her like the gentle and renewing waves of some mystical sea.

“Hold on, Ruby,” he whispered. “Just hold on.”

Rainbow had Brutal Honesty in one hand as she scanned the waterfront.

Her goggles were down over her eyes, the HUD that Twilight had built into them giving her not only better night vision than she would have otherwise enjoyed but also a range of scanning options.

Unfortunately, none of those scanning options were revealing any sign of Adam Taurus to her.

“If you didn’t find the body,” Blake muttered, “then I’m afraid there's a good chance he’s still alive.”

Rainbow growled. “Hopefully, he just sunk. Maybe the police can dredge the harbour or something.”

“Perhaps,” Blake said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “It looks like Ruby’s going to be okay.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Okay?”

“It seems that Jaune just found his semblance,” Blake explained. “It seems to be stimulating her aura.”

Rainbow frowned. “I’ve known people who didn’t complete the full course at Combat School who still found their semblances, so what took him so long?”

Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. Some people are just late bloomers, I guess.” She paused. “I don’t suppose it matters. All that matters is that he found it now, and Ruby’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “That is what matters. A kid like that… she’ll be a credit to this kingdom once she grows up.”

Blake sniffed. “She’s already a credit to this kingdom, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. She’ll be even more of one later,” Rainbow said. “You really think he’s not dead?”

“I don’t want to assume he is only to have him turn up on my doorstep later,” Blake said darkly.

“I guess not,” Rainbow agreed. “I’ll get him next time.”

Blake glanced at Rainbow.

“What?” Rainbow demanded. “You think I can’t do it?”

“I think… I think you shouldn’t have burned so much of your aura saving me,” Blake declared. “I’ve never seen anyone take a hit from Moonslice before. By all rights, you should have ended up like Ruby.”

“I’m three years older than Ruby, and I’ve been taught by General Ironwood himself. I’d be ashamed if I didn’t have a few extra tricks up my sleeve.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I’m guessing you concentrated your aura to your forearm, enabling you to take the blow without your aura breaking. A gutsy move, but it must have drained you down into the yellow, if not the red.”

“And yet, I would have kicked his ass if that big guy hadn’t gotten in my way.”

Blake didn’t dispute that. “You would have won regardless if you’d-”

“Let him cut you up like he almost did Ruby?”

Blake shrugged. “I thought you wanted me dead, too.”

“I thought… I was…” Rainbow holstered her weapon. “I was scared.”

Blake blinked. “Of me?”

“I’ve been burned by White Fang infiltrators in the past,” Rainbow said defensively. “But… I shouldn’t have let it get to me. Like Twilight reminded me, you’re not Chrysalis. You’re not even White Fang any more, are you?”

“No,” Blake murmured. “Not anymore. Not that that erases what I did when I was part of the White Fang.” She folded her arms. “So… why did you save me?”

“Because you would have died if I hadn’t.”

“So?” Blake asked. “What does that matter to you?”

Rainbow shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. She scuffed her feet back and forth along the dock. “I… I have some really great friends,” she said. “I have a friend who can take a piece of cloth and turn it into something really beautiful like magic; I’ve got a friend who could take the most down on his luck guy you ever met off the street and put a smile on his face because she’s just… I can’t even describe what she’s got about her; I’ve got a friend who could charm birds out of the trees, literally. And Twilight’s smart and sweet, and Applejack is like a big sister to the whole world, and I… I’m not like them. I can’t make beautiful things, I can’t make people smile, I’m not kind or generous or smart. But I can do this. I can go toe to toe with monsters like Adam Taurus, and I can protect people who are in danger. And so I’ll do it. I’ll fight for Atlas, the flag, and the things that Applejack can do with apples.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose.

“Try one of her creations, and you’ll agree they’re worth fighting for,” Rainbow assured her.

Blake hesitated for a moment, before the briefest hint of a smile crossed her face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “If you hadn’t shown up… I led everyone into danger, but you saved us all.”

“That’s what Atlas is here for,” Rainbow assured her. “Say, I think it’s about my turn to ask you a really insulting question for a change.”

“Go on,” Blake agreed gloomily.

“Why did a girl with a stick up her ass about faunus rights leave the White Fang in the first place?”

Blake glared at her.

“I warned you it was an insulting question,” Rainbow said.

Blake frowned. “Because… because it was getting to the point where I couldn’t excuse the attempted murder of nine-year old flower girls as the work of a bad apple like Chrysalis. It was… it was becoming what we were all about, and I… I couldn’t live with it. I couldn’t live with myself if I lived with it. So I left.”

“And came to Beacon.”

Blake nodded. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Did bugging me about my allegiance seem like a good idea at the time, too?” Rainbow demanded.

Blake winced. “I thought you were-”

“A sellout?”

“Yes,” Blake admitted. “And a corporate enforcer for the SDC.”

“Well, I’m not,” Rainbow declared.

Blake glanced at the SDC shipping containers.

“Hey, you're the one who came here to save the SDC's stuff; I was here saving your butt,” Rainbow insisted. “We fight for the right thing. For truth, justice, and the Atlesian way.”

“Everyone thinks their cause is the right one,” Blake said.

“In Atlas’s case, it’s true,” Rainbow insisted.

Blake didn’t reply immediately. “So… what now?”

“Now?”

“What are you going to do with me?” Blake clarified.

Rainbow fell silent. “You know that Professor Ozpin knows all about you, right?”

Blake nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

“Then… who am I to contradict the commander of this post?” Rainbow asked. “And besides… I hear your parents are really good people, my folks on Menagerie-”

“Your parents live in Menagerie?” Blake asked.

“Yes, where there is no CCT, and I am very glad of the fact,” Rainbow said shamelessly. “But they write to me, and they say your parents are great. And like Applejack says: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You can go back to Beacon, and my team won’t say a word about it. Your secret’s safe with us.”

Blake inhaled deeply. “Thank you, again,” she murmured. She pulled out a length of black ribbon and began to tie her bow around her head, covering her feline ears.

“Darling,” Rainbow drawled in her best approximation – which was to say, a terrible one – of Rarity’s voice. “Haven’t you heard? Bows are so last season!”

Blake stared at her.

Rainbow grinned.

Blake said nothing as she turned away. Sun was waiting for her, standing in the shadow of one of the nearest container units, close enough to be there but not close enough to be spying on anyone.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m… a little better, now,” Blake said with a glance at Rainbow Dash.

Sun nodded. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“The plan… the plan is that I go back to Beacon,” Blake said. “And you come too and explain to Professor Ozpin just what a lone Haven student is doing here so soon in the year and see what he decides to do with you.”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a reward,” Sun pointed out.

Blake smiled with one corner of her mouth. “How about it if I tell you that I hope you stick around?”

Sun beamed like his namesake. “Well that… yeah, that was worth all of this.”

Ruby sat up. Thanks to Jaune, there was no longer any sign of the wound that had been dealt to her, save only for a tear on her outfit from beneath which her pale skin could be seen.

But it was skin intact, without so much as a scar visible.

And she was sitting up, looking slightly sheepish as though she were ashamed of all the attention that she had been receiving.

“Ruby,” Penny said curiously. “How do you feel?”

Ruby touched her side. “It feels… okay, actually,” she said. “I’m sorry to cause so much fuss for everyone.”

“'So much fuss'?” Sunset repeated incredulously. “How… how can you be so... you?”

“I’ve… had a lot of practice?” Ruby suggested.

“You…” Sunset clutched at her chest as nervous laughter rolled out of her, shaking her whole body on the way out of her mouth.

“You’re okay,” Jaune whispered exhaustedly. “You’re okay.”

“I guess I am,” Ruby said. “Thanks to you, Jaune.”

“Thanks to…” Jaune trailed off. It seemed to dawn on him for the first time just what he had done, that he alone had been responsible for Ruby’s deliverance. Pyrrha’s smile mingled gratitude and pride as she reached out and took him by the hand.

Sunset took a more direct approach to showing her gratitude, grabbing him by the face with both hands and planting a kiss upon his lips.

“Don’t expect that to happen very often, but you earned that on this occasion,” she told him, as he stared at her with his eyes boggling.

“Okay,” Jaune murmured. “But… maybe next time, give me a warning first?”

Yang had her arms wrapped around Ruby’s shoulders. “I think I’ll pass on the 'thank you' kiss, if that’s okay with you… but thanks. If there’s ever anything you need, you only have to ask.”

Jaune’s face was lighting up bright red. “I, uh, I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “I… Ruby, I’m sorry. I should have been… you shouldn’t have need to… next time, I-”

Her words were cut off by the feeling of arms around her. At first, she thought it was Ruby, having broken free from Yang’s embrace, giving her another hug, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that it was not just a hug but a group hug, Ruby on her left and Jaune on her right and Pyrrha embracing the both of them from her place opposite Sunset.

Ruby smiled. “You know, it’s not complete if you don’t raise your arms too.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, still half at a loss as to what had brought this on, before she raised her arms to embrace Ruby on one side and Jaune on the other. She could feel Jaune’s armour plate under her arm, and her hand snaked through Ruby’s short, soft hair.

Her arms crossed over Pyrrha’s headed the other way. She could feel Pyrrha’s vambraces pressing against her sleeve.

It was…nice. Surprisingly nice, with their backs bent and their foreheads nearly touching and the warm of their arms upon her as they were joined together like ouroboros. It was nice.

It was something she wanted to protect.

I’ll get stronger from here on out. I will strengthen myself in every way and I won’t be afraid again.

And I’ll take that red sword to prove it.

And I’ll protect my team. This won’t happen again.

“We made it,” Ruby said. “We’re all here, and we’re all okay. We survived.”

“You say that like it’s a win,” Sunset said.

“Sometimes, survival is a victory,” Jaune pontificated. “I mean, look at mankind, right? We survive the grimm, and we call that winning.”

“Considering the circumstances,” Pyrrha said, “that we are all still here is nothing to be ashamed of, even if we did require Atlesian assistance.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “We’re going to get that guy one day, I promise.”

“Sure we will,” Ruby said. “But we’ll do it together. Because we’re Team Sapphire, and they made a big mistake when they messed with us!”

Sunset smirked. “Team Sapphire; yeah, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Team Sapphire,” Pyrrha said softly. “I’m very proud to call each of you my teammates.”

“Team Sapphire,” Jaune said. “You guys are awesome.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Jaune,” Ruby reminded him.

“Yeah, with your new semblance, you’re a real asset now,” Sunset declared. She locked eyes with each of them in turn: first Jaune, then Ruby, and finally Pyrrha last of all and for the longest time.

We’re a team. My team. Team Sapphire.

And we’re going straight to the top.

All of us, because I don’t think I could do it without them.

“We’re going to do great things, the four of us,” Sunset said. “I guarantee it.” She blinked. “Speaking of Atlesian assistance, Penny, where is the rest of your team?”

“Ciel is still on overwatch, but I think Rainbow Dash went to see if that man was dead,” Penny said simply. “There she is now, with Blake!”

Sunset's gaze followed Penny’s eagerly pointing finger. Sure enough, there were Rainbow and Blake, with Sun coming over to join them both as they head towards the other huntsmen.

“Hey, guys,” Rainbow said. “I hear Ruby had a miraculous recovery.”

“Thanks to Jaune, yeah,” Ruby agreed. She smiled. “Thanks for having our backs.”

“That’s the job,” Rainbow said. She smirked. “Rescuing the helpless.”

“Take that back this instant!” Sunset snapped. “Egotistical little…”

“Don’t get mad just 'cause you know I’m right,” Rainbow said. “I bet our use of air support doesn’t seem so stupid now either, does it?”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Nobody likes the person who says ‘I told you so.’”

“Yeah, but I love myself, so that’s what counts,” Rainbow replied.

“I’m sorry I got you into this,” Blake murmured. “Ruby, I should never have-”

“It’s fine,” Ruby assured her. “Like Rainbow just said, it’s the job.”

“But it wasn’t the job; it was my problem,” Blake insisted.

“It was a huntsman problem, and we’re all huntsmen,” Ruby said. “And no one was hurt – not for long – and we stopped the bad guys, so we’re all good. Nobody’s going to tell on you.” She paused. “We’re not going to tell, are we?”

“Of course not,” Pyrrha murmured. “That would be very unkind in the circumstances.”

“I can’t say that I’ll be able to call you a friend after what I’ve learned,” Weiss said as she wandered over to join them. “No offence.”

Blake looked away. “None taken. I understand your reluctance.”

“But I am still willing to call you a fellow huntress-in-training,” Weiss added. “Although… young man, aren’t you the stowaway from the boat?”

Sun chuckled nervously, as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m also a Haven student, if that helps.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “It appears they’ll take anyone in the academies these days.”

“Don’t sweat it, Blake; we all have a right to a past,” Yang said. “And… we all have a right to leave that past behind and do better.”

Blake looked down. “I… I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such generosity,” she admitted.

“Nobody knows,” Rainbow said. “That’s why they call it generosity.”

Blake smiled, if but for a brief moment. “I… I promise I won’t cause any of you so much trouble in future.”

The sirens screamed as a host of police calls rolled into the docks, lights flashing brightly blue and red atop them.

Professor Goodwitch climbed out of the first car as it rolled to a halt. To say that she looked unimpressed would be an understatement.

“Well, that’s good,” Sunset said, “because it looks like we’re in more than enough trouble for one semester.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: So, as you can tell, the Blake Arc from the originally has been almost completely rewritten, with Jaune discovering his semblance after Ruby was hurt being one of the few elements that remains the same. This was originally to eliminate the plothole of Jacques not dragging Weiss back home after she got kidnapped, but I like the way that it has turned out with our protagonists making active choices rather than being the victims of the designs of the villains.

The scene with Yang (you know the one, and if you don't I won't spoil it) has been dropped but rather moved; it will turn up a little later in the story.

The House of Victory (Rewritten)

The House of Victory

It had been eight weeks since Team SAPR - along with Blake, Sun and their allies of Teams RSPT and WWSR - had battled the White Fang at the docks of Vale and stopped a major dust robbery.

Since that time, not a great deal of any particular note had happened. Classes had continued as before, joined by Sun Wukong, a lost student of Haven Academy, and by various Shade students who had arrived a few days late thanks to a combination of inclement weather and engine trouble. Team SAPR had survived their detentions for their actions at the docks and the midterm exams, with Ruby and Jaune managing to scrape passes in all subjects. By the end of semester exams, they’d both been verging upon doing well. Winter had come and gone, making way for spring and, with it, the vacation. Which brought Team SAPR here: aboard an airship flying across the green expanses of Anima, headed for the city of Mistral.

Sunset had never been anywhere near Mistral before. She'd never even been anywhere on Anima before. To be perfectly honest, going to Beacon had been her first time off Solitas since coming to Remnant, which was one of the reasons why she had accepted Pyrrha's invitation to spend spring break with her in Mistral. Even if they hadn't reached the city of Mistral proper yet, Sunset was already finding it fascinating.

The four members of Team SAPR had taken a Valish airship out to the Mistralian port city of Edo Bay and spent the night before boarding a private Mistralian airship chartered for Pyrrha and her guests by her mother. Just that little taste of what it meant to be in the Kingdom of Mistral had been eye-opening for Sunset: the dress, the deportment were both so different from anything in Vale or Atlas. There had been a conscious sense of the past in the port town; even if it was just a veneer papered over the present, it was still something that Sunset found interesting and pleasant. The clothes were different, and while they weren't what Sunset would have chosen to wear herself, the very fact that they were different and not homogenised to the extent seen in Vale or Atlas… it intrigued her. Now they were approaching Mistral itself, and she could hardly wait.

The private airship was understandably smaller than the commercial carrier that had carried them over the ocean, but it was not the reduction in size that interested Sunset so much as what she had already seen of Mistralian technology. While Atlesian tech gloried in its advancement and sophistication, and even Valish creations seemed to intend to do the same, this Mistralian airship seemed designed to look less hi-tech than Sunset suspected that it really was. In fact, and Sunset wasn’t sure whether this was amusing or absurd, the Mistralian airship appeared to be only a gas bladder away from an Equestrian airship such as might have plied the skyways around Canterlot or carried passengers from the capital to Manehattan and back. That they could manage to make something that seemed so primitive in spite of Remnant’s much greater technological advancement… well, it really took some doing.

Sunset stood on the edge of the airship's main compartment, one hand resting on the wall to stop her falling down to the world passing by beneath. The wings of the airship, beating up and down, might look as though they were fashioned of bamboo and canvas, but that couldn't actually be the case. Sunset doubted there was any difference to the underlying systems that kept this craft in the air or powered their western equivalents; Mistral just wanted it to look as though there was.

It was fascinating, and to be perfectly honest, it reminded her of home more than a little. A foreign visitor to Equestria from some far off land might think Canterlot hopelessly backwards, wallowing in the past while cities like Manehatten powered Equestria into a bright new future, but it was not so. Canterlot was every bit as advanced as any other city in the realm; it simply rejected the hyper-modernised aesthetic of younger cities in favour of maintaining its archaic layout and classical architecture.

But that was no more than a veneer; scratch that surface, and you would find little enough authentic antiquity, and Sunset suspected that it was much the same in Mistral.

She wondered, as the wind blew through her hair, why the Mistralians felt the need to camouflage their advancement behind the appearance of tradition thus. In the case of Canterlot, Sunset had always suspected that Celestia had something to do with it; while the princess could not be accused of retarding her nation's progress, Sunset thought that she might prefer to live in a place that superficially resembled the world that she had grown up in, and who could fault her for that? After all that she had done for Equestria over the centuries, she was probably entitled to have her tastes in architecture catered to within her capital. However, that failed to explain what was driving Mistral's seeming desire for superficial backwardness. What was the cause of it, absent an immortal monarch who wanted a degree of familiarity when she looked out her window?

Sunset glanced over her shoulder at Pyrrha, who – along with Ruby - was presently doing her best to comfort Jaune as his motion sickness got the better of him. In her gleaming armour and with her spear and shield slung across her back, she seemed rather an old-fashioned figure herself, and yet there was nothing truly antique about a spear which could become either sword or rifle on command. Nor was it as if her armour was truly bronze; it was gilded steel, most likely, fashioned to look like bronze. More dressing up of the old in the trappings of the new.

Then Sunset thought of Pyrrha's words, clearly not made up but recited out of memory, when she had unlocked Jaune's aura. She thought of the mystical reverence with which Pyrrha approached aura, the way she talked of destiny, a word which Sunset had not even heard pass the lips of any Valishman. Sunset thought even of the restrained manners which Pyrrha displayed and by which she conducted herself, so different from the exuberant expressiveness of Ruby or Jaune. There was something old-fashioned there, without a doubt; there were times when Pyrrha seemed almost as alien to this world as Sunset herself, a product of a long-gone age of heroes summoned into the modern world and armed with its most powerful weapons. Perhaps that was not just a Pyrrha thing but a Mistral thing; perhaps the reason Mistral cloaked its present in the trappings of the past was simply because it felt more comfortable there.

"Miss Nikos," the pilot called from the cockpit, "we're approaching Mistral now."

Pyrrha's face lit up a little, and she started to rise from Jaune's side before hesitating. "Jaune, do you-?"

Jaune waved her off. "I'm fine. Go. Both of you."

"Are you sure?" Ruby asked anxiously.

Jaune nodded. "You don't want to miss the view, do you?"

Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you," she said, before she quickly joined Sunset looking out of the airship. Ruby followed a moment later, crouching down beneath the two taller girls, even as Sunset herself bent her knees a little so that Pyrrha could see over her. The breeze ruffled their hair, caressing their fiery locks, making it stream behind them and over Ruby's hair like banners flying over an army.

The city of Mistral, the heart of the eastern kingdom, came into view. Far off yet, it seemed, though growing closer with every passing moment as the airship bore them on, yet despite the distance, it seemed already to be beautiful. Fair and proud, the city sat upon its mountain seat, with many towers rising up out of the lush greenery that covered the slopes of the peak like precious pearls set in an emerald broach. No tower was taller, or stood prouder, than the Mistral CCT, the White Tower so high it pierced the very clouds themselves like a lance. As the airship carried them closer, Sunset began to be able to make out more details. She could see the waterfall that emerged from beneath the tower to flow down the side of the mountain, cutting through the centre of the city in a sapphire stream. She could see the way in which the city rose in steps, with the natural formation of the mountain slopes having been fashioned by the labour of long ages past into tiers and layers gradually ascending, plateaus half-formed by nature and half by the hand of man on which the districts and the towers rested, ascending up to grander and yet grander buildings until they reached the tallest and the grandest of them all.

Though Mistral sat not upon a lonely mountain but upon one of a chain of lush green peaks, the citizens had made no effort to colonise the neighbouring rises, to sprawl their city out across the mountain range. Rather, they had spread into the valleys that lay between the peaks, their satellite cities of Windy Path to the north and Kuchinashi to the south, and all the rest taken up with rich farmland nestling in Mistral's shadow and under the protection of Mistralian arms. Fed by the water thundering down the mountainside which, in turn, fed many rills which slithered serpent-like through the green, the fields and orchards over which they flew brought forth grain and fruit and vegetable for the consumption of the city, while on the slopes of the other mountains, the herdsmen and husbandmen raised sheep and goats and cattle.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Pyrrha asked from just behind Sunset.

"Yes, it certainly is," Sunset replied, even though as she replied, she had only a single eye fixed on Mistral. Her other eye saw farther still, and in her mind, she saw another city built onto a mountainside layered over Pyrrha's home: Canterlot the many-towered, its dreaming spires all crowned in gleaming gold, with many bright banners fluttering in the morning breeze. Canterlot the fair, the Canterlot the beautiful, Canterlot the seat and fount of virtue and wisdom; Canterlot... her home.

The home that she had left behind, never to see again.

It was the right decision, and I have benefited from it. Had she not left Canterlot and her world behind, then she would have remained a small and insignificant unicorn full of wasted energy, a failure who had betrayed her own potential and reduced herself to irrelevance in the scheme of things. If she had not left Canterlot and her world, then she would never have met Pyrrha or Ruby or Jaune; she would never have become a team leader; she would never have had this life which suited her so well.

I hardly know whether to be proud that you have chosen to devote yourself to the protection and service of others or horrified at the fact that you live in a world that requires such devotion. So Celestia had written, when Sunset had explained the general state of Remnant to her and what her chosen path of huntress entailed. She might well be horrified, because it was rather horrifying when you stopped accepting it as the status quo and started to look at it from the outside, still less tried to see it as one who had ruled over a nation in peace and harmony for a thousand years might do. But Sunset hoped, Sunset believed, that Celestia recognised that it was no unworthy thing she did.

The airship landed on a docking pad about three-quarters of the way up the city, a docking pad which Sunset was a little surprised to see empty as she dismounted. "No cheering throngs of adoring fans?"

"Not everything that I do is public knowledge," Pyrrha replied as she helped Jaune down onto the docking pad.

Sunset grunted. "How are you feeling?" she asked Jaune. She frowned. "You know, I can't help but notice that you didn't have any problems on the Bullhead flying down into the forest for the Grimm Studies practical, or flying in or out of the Forever Fall, for that matter. Your motion sickness is rather selective."

Jaune laughed nervously. "That's because, uh, it's not exactly motion sickness. I just thought it sounded a little less pathetic than extreme nerves."

"'Nerves'?" Ruby asked. "I mean, sure, first day of school, I was pretty nervous too, but… now? How can you be more nervous here than flying into a grimm infested forest?"

"Because it was only grimm waiting in the forest," Jaune explained, "and not Pyrrha's mother."

"Oh," Pyrrha murmured, a dispirited note creeping into her voice. "I… I see. Jaune; if you didn't want to come, then-"

"It's not that," Jaune explained quickly. "I just… I don't want to… I'm afraid that I'll… never mind. Can we not talk about it?"

"Of course, if you'd rather not," Pyrrha said, "I hope you'll find that this trip was worth the trouble. I… I've never had the chance to share my home with anyone like this before. I really do want all of you to have a good time."

"And we will," Ruby assured her. "We're going to have the best Spring Break ever."

Jaune nodded and tried to smile. "Totally. This is going to be great."

"I'm enjoying myself already," Sunset declared. "That view was… let's just say that Vale needs to up its game."

"It was beautiful," Ruby agreed. "Just like you said it would be."

Sunset smirked. "The only thing missing was the sound of silver trumpets as the people cried out 'the Champion of Mistral has returned.'"

Pyrrha chuckled, "I'm glad to say that's never happened."

"Just wait until you win the Vytal Festival," Sunset told her. "So, where to now?"

"To my home," Pyrrha said. "If you'll all follow me." She led the way, dragging her luggage after in a case on wheels, and the rest of the team fell in behind her.

Sunset stood by her belief that, beneath its facade of unchanging antiquity, Mistral was every bit as modern and advanced as Vale, but she had to concede that in at least one respect, the appearance of an older, more traditional way of doing things was more than just a veneer: there were no cars on the roads. The streets were so narrow and winding that they could not have accommodated them, nor would the stepped, rising nature of the city have been of any help in this regard. Sunset had been surprised at first when Pyrrha started to lead the way on foot, and further surprised when she noticed the complete lack of any sound of engines in the air, only of footfalls and conversation and the ever-present rumbling of the waterfall. Not a single car or bike or truck was to be heard, let alone seen.

"As a city, Mistral is much smaller than Vale," Pyrrha explained, as she led them down a thoroughfare that passed between rows of large, expansive houses rising up behind sturdy walls that Sunset could only assume were intended to keep the riff-raff out. "And so it isn't so hard to travel on foot."

"But on the other hand, the writ of the kingdom runs much further, right?" Sunset asked. "'Outside the kingdom' doesn't mean so much here."

"That's right," Pyrrha said. "Settlements across Anima acknowledge the authority of the Mistral council." She smiled. "Did you read up before you came here?"

"A little," Sunset said, although she'd already picked up a fair amount from history classes. "I didn't want you to have to answer every inane question that I might have."

They passed a couple of guards - or cops, but based on their dress, Sunset couldn't help but think of them as guards - who were armoured like warriors of old in lacquered, lamellar plates of armour fashioned to look like plates of leather and metal jointed together, regardless of what it was really made of, topped with tall, crested helmets. They were also carrying very modern Atlesian rifles, which served to prove – to Sunset's own satisfaction, at least - that she had been onto something.

Pyrrha guided them to a grand house, rising up from behind a white wall, occupying the back of a cul-de-sac. The path beyond the wall was barred by a set of gates painted red - with an intercom system mounted to the right - but even beyond the wall, Sunset could already tell that "house" was an inappropriate word for this place, "mansion" possibly being a more suitable choice. It rose upwards rather than sprawling outwards, even though the wall enclosed sufficient space that it could have done so. Sunset supposed that, much like Canterlot, to waste space was the highest statement of affluence in this city. The main house - white, with a roof of red tiles rising at a steep angle - was surrounded by several towers, and it seemed as though all of the upper windows led out onto spacious balconies.

Jaune's eyes were wide and his mouth agape already. "You... you live here? This place is a palace!"

Let's not go overboard, thought Sunset, who, unlike Jaune, had actually grown up in a palace. It was an impressive place, to be sure, but a palace? Not quite. This was the townhouse of a wealthy family, nothing more. You only had to look up the hill to the actual palace, gleaming effulgent in all its splendour, in order to appreciate the difference.

Pyrrha looked abashed by Jaune's awe, looking away from him as her face acquired a slight red tint. "Yes, well… let's go in, shall we?" She walked - with a touch of haste in her gait - up to the intercom set next to the gate and pushed the green button.

A screen at the top of the metallic panel flashed briefly before a voice issued out. "Welcome home, young mistress."

The gate opened, rolling backwards in both directions with a rumble of engines. Jaune gasped, and gasped again – this time joined by Ruby - as Pyrrha led them through the gate. The gate closed again as soon as they were clear of it, and Sunset and the others followed Pyrrha through the grounds towards the house. The space that the Nikos family was squandering by possession unbuilt-upon was not wholly wasted, for the path of white stone that led to the house cut through a lavish garden. Cherry trees blossomed amidst many-coloured flower beds, fountains burbled happily amidst well-ordered rock gardens, and bronze statues of heroic figures armed and garbed for war brandished their spears from atop marble plinths upon the manicured lawn.

Ruby's eyes were wide and shone with admiration. "It's all so beautiful."

A fond smile played upon Pyrrha's face. "I'm glad that you could come here in the spring, when the cherry blossoms are in bloom," she said. Her smile faded a little. "Alas, they bloom too briefly and fall too soon."

A gentle breeze dislodged some of the blossoms from the trees, scattering the petals across their path as they advanced.

"This is incredible," Jaune whispered, turning this way and that as he walked down the path.

"Do you like it?" Pyrrha asked anxiously.

"Of course!" Jaune replied, turning to face her with a beam on his face. "This is great!"

It was as if a great weight of anxiety had been lifted from Pyrrha's shoulders; she looked a little easier, and her eyes gleamed a little brighter as she said, "I'm so glad! I really want you to enjoy this."

"These statues," Sunset said. "Purely decorative or...?"

"My ancestors," Pyrrha said. "I'd introduce you, as it were, but you should probably meet my mother first."

The door to the house was as red as the outer gate, with great gold door knocks which proved quite unnecessary as the doors swung open as soon as they approached. The four stepped upon a crimson carpet as they entered a spacious hall, decorated in marble and gold and lit by the flickering lights of many lanterns. The carpet led towards a grand, branching staircase, and on either side of the carpet were arrayed two rows of maids in black dresses and white aprons who clasped their hands together before them as they bowed and chorused, "Welcome home, Lady Pyrrha."

Pyrrha's embarrassment returned swiftly and visibly as she looked down at her feet. "Yes, thank you," she murmured in a subdued tone.

"Welcome home!" This new voice came not from any of the servants in the hall, but from the woman presently descending the stairs. She looked to be somewhere in middle age, with hair that had once been as red as Pyrrha's now beginning to turn grey in wisps and strands and streaks. The years had begun to line her face, and she walked with slight limp, keeping one hand upon the bannister even if there was no sign of a cane. "Welcome home," she repeated as she neared the bottom of the stairs. "My child, my daughter; mine and Mistral's greatest and most beloved champion. Welcome home." She was dressed in a flowing gown of crimson and gold, with long open sleeves that almost hid her hands and a long train, which flowed behind her as she walked down to the carpet towards Pyrrha and the others.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Mother."

The two were nearly of a height, Sunset saw, as Pyrrha's mother drew closer, and both had the same green eyes. Sunset wouldn't have been surprised to learn that in her youth, the older woman had looked very much as Pyrrha did now. Even now, though age and care had set their mark upon her without doubt, she had not aged wholly ungracefully.

Pyrrha's mother embraced her daughter for the briefest moment and kissed her on the forehead; only then did she turn her gaze on Pyrrha's companions.

"Mother," Pyrrha said quickly. "Thank you for welcoming my friends into our home. Jaune, Sunset, Ruby, this is my mother, Lady Hippolyta Nikos. Mother, allow me to present Jaune Arc, my partner at Beacon."

Jaune smiled as he thrust out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, uh, ma'am. You've got a lovely home."

The older woman regarded him rather like a kind of slime, her green eyes - they were the same colour as Pyrrha's, but lacked all of the warmth present in Pyrrha's orbs - filled with disdain. Jaune's hand remained outstretched, reaching out into empty air, untaken.

Jaune's smile began to waver as his hand trembled slightly.

"Charmed, Mister Arc," she said in a voice that sounded far from charmed.

Pyrrha looked so guilty you might have thought she was the one being insulting. "Also let me introduce my friend and teammate Ruby Rose."

Jaune's reception appeared to have left Ruby feeling rather intimidated and uncertain. She kept her hands clasped together in front of her and had trouble looking at Lady Nikos. "Hello," she murmured.

Lady Nikos' gaze lingered upon Ruby for a moment, a trace of surprise in her green eyes, but she said nothing.

Pyrrha looked thoroughly miserable. Her voice trembled as she said, "And this is my team leader, Sunset Shimmer."

It had been a long time since Sunset had needed to have recourse to the high manners of the court, but as she reached for them now, she found - somewhat to her relief - that she had not forgotten the lessons in etiquette and courtesy that she had learned during her tutelage at Celestia's hooves. Though unused, they had been but lying dormant at the back of her mind, waiting to be used again. She did not clasp her hands together as she bowed, for it was clear to her from observation of the maids that such was a servant's bow, and Sunset Shimmer was no servant. Rather, she spread her hands out wide on either side of her and angled her face so that she could still see her host as she crossed one foot behind the other and bowed deeply from the waist. "Lady Nikos, thank you for extending your hospitality to me; I am honoured to be a guest in your home."

Jaune made a kind of choking sound, and when Sunset rose, she saw that he, Ruby, and Pyrrha were all staring at Sunset as though she'd sprouted a second head.

What? Just because I don't do manners normally doesn't mean that I can't. I'm not a barbarian, except by choice.

Lady Nikos stared at her for a moment, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Her lips twitched momentarily. Sunset was surprised that the old woman's gaze did not linger on Sunset's faunus features, but of course, Pyrrha had never shown any regard for such things, and she had to have acquired her tolerance from somewhere.

"Welcome, Miss Shimmer," she said. "Please consider the luxuries of this house to be your own; if you have any needs, the servants will gladly attend to them for you. The guest rooms have been prepared, and I imagine you are weary from your journey; dinner will be held at seven; I imagine I will see you then. Pyrrha, will you visit your father?"

Pyrrha bowed her head. "With your leave, Mother."

"Of course," Lady Nikos said. "No doubt he will be almost as glad of your return as I. Once you are finished, we must talk."

Pyrrha sighed. "Yes, Mother."

Obviously not a good talk, Sunset thought.

"Iris, take my daughter's luggage to her room and unpack it."

"As you wish, my lady."

"As for the rest of you," Lady Nikos continued. "Hestia, show our guests to the rooms prepared for them, that they may rest."

One of the maids curtsied. "At once, my lady. Follow me, please."

Pyrrha placed a fire-dust crystal into the lamp, and the light illuminated her passage as she walked down the steps into the crypt.

This house had been renovated and re-modelled over the years, but its frame was old. A noble Mistralian family, the Aemillii, had built it centuries ago, but that line had tragically died out during the Great War, and the Nikos family had acquired the house after Pyrrha's great-great-great grandfather had abdicated the throne at the end of the Great War. This house was older than its occupation by her line.

What was not so old was the crypt.

The Nikos family had always kept their dead close by; the underbelly of the Chrysanthemum Palace played host to the sarcophagi of many emperors and princes past back, so it was said, to Theseus, the very founder of the city. Now, the palace belonged to the line of the Stewards of the House of Thrax; now, it was Lord Diomedes' kin who slumbered in the crypts beneath, and while the Stewards would not disturb the ancient scions of the line of Nikos interred there, nor would they permit more recent generations of the family to mingle with those now raised above them in lordship and dignity

And so, Pyrrha's more recent ancestors had excavated a new crypt, dug out new dark, cold spaces underneath their new home, and resumed their ancient customs in their new abode.

"Revered ancestors," Pyrrha murmured as she reached the bottom of the steps and entered the crypt proper. Only the fire dust crystal burning in the lamp enabled her to see anything within this dark and gloomy place. The air was chill and dry, and the great stone tombs lay squat and broad on either side of the central transept, recumbent effigies of those within lay atop the sarcophagus lids. Their eyes were closed, some had their hands clasped together across their chests, others gripped swords or spears tightly in their hands. Here lay the last Emperor of Mistral and the three sons that he had lost in the Great War; here lay her great-great-grandfather, the last prince to survive the war, and all the House of Nikos by blood or marriage until her mother. Here, Pyrrha's mortal remnants would lie, when her time came, and even if there were no remains, even if the grimm left none, then still a tomb would be erected for her and an effigy carved to sit upon the coffin in eternal rest with Miló in her hand.

Pyrrha prayed that that day, though it be inevitable, might be many years hence. Many years of joy, many years with her new friends, many years of love, many years to bear a child of her own and watch them grow tall and strong and kind. Many years, if fate was kind to her and her will might have its way.

The air in the crypt was musty and thick with ghosts, the spirits of her ancestors watching her as she walked through the darkness with only a fire-dust lamp to light the way.

Pyrrha stopped before the tomb of her father.

Achilles Nikos was rendered in stone as a man tall but lithe-limbed, clean-shaven but with long hair descending past his shoulders. He was depicted in the armour of a huntsman, with a sword resting upon his chest, the sword and armour that were buried in the tomb with him. His countenance was youthful, the face of a man who had fallen before his time. His expression was stern, set in dignified repose, devoid of the smiles that had animated in life. Or so Pyrrha remembered at least; she had been very young at the time.

"Father," Pyrrha said, as she set the lamp down upon the floor of the crypt. "I... I've come home. Not permanently, of course, but for the spring vacation." She hesitated for a moment. "I've brought my friends and teammates with me: Jaune, Ruby, and Sunset. That's right, Father, I have friends now. Three friends who trust me with their lives. It's wonderful. I've never felt before the way that I feel when I'm with them. They treat me... they treat me like a person. When I'm with them, I'm not the Invincible Girl, I'm not the champion of Mistral or the Princess Without a Crown, I'm not a walking talking combat doll... I'm Pyrrha Nikos." Well, mostly. There were times when she could tell by the look in Sunset's eye that their team leader had already mentally decided where she was going to put the trophy from their Vytal Festival win and suspected that her undefeated status played a major role in Sunset's calculation. But if you took the ambition out of Sunset, then whatever you were left with would probably not be much like Sunset Shimmer, and so, Pyrrha was inclined to forgive a little premature counting of chickens.

"I wish that you could meet them all," she said. "I wish that you could tell me that I've chosen well, that I'm as fortunate in them as I feel; I wish I could ask you how to talk to Jaune and you could answer. I wish that you were here, in more ways than you are." She knelt and closed her eyes as she rested her forehead upon the stone. "I miss you, Father."

She remained down in the crypt for a little while longer, surrounded by the ghosts of her family, and only when the fire dust crystal in the lamp began to burn out did she rise to her feet and walk, her steps echoing in the quiet and the dark, up from the crypt and back into the house.

"Hey, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha stopped. Ruby was standing not far away, looking a little awkward as she tugged at one sleeve with her other hand.

"Ruby," Pyrrha murmured, surprised. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No," Ruby said quickly. "I just… I heard where you were going, and I didn't want to disturb you down there, but… when I come back from visiting Mom, I'm always glad to have someone there waiting for me."

Pyrrha looked down at the smaller, younger girl for a moment and said nothing. A smile blossomed on her face. "You're a very sweet girl, thank you."

Ruby's cheeks flushed a little. "It's nothing."

"No," Pyrrha insisted. "It's more than that." She gestured to a low stone bench sitting against the marbled wall not far away. "Shall we?"

"Okay," Ruby said softly. "I mean, if you want to."

"Yes," Pyrrha replied with equal gentleness in her voice. "I think I do."

Together, they walked to the bench, and there, sat down. Pyrrha set down the lamp and played with her long red sash for a moment, her fingers fiddling with the cloth. Ruby sat down next to her and waited, letting Pyrrha decide when she would speak.

"This… this may sound terribly selfish," Pyrrha admitted, "but there are times when I wonder why he did it."

Ruby was quiet for a moment. "You mean…"

"Why he became a huntsman," Pyrrha explained. "Why he continued to be a huntsman, I should say. My father was not born a Nikos – the lineage passes through my mother, whose name he took upon their marriage – but after he married my mother, the family fortunes could have kept him in luxury for all his life had he chosen to do nothing at all but… but to be a loving husband and a devoted father to his children."

"I didn't think you had any siblings," Ruby murmured.

"I don't," Pyrrha said quickly. "But I could have, if… there are times when I can't help but wonder why."

Ruby didn't answer for a little while, but she did reach out and take Pyrrha's hand in her own and offer her a reassuring squeeze. "I ask myself that too," she admitted. "Not… not where Dad can hear, or Yang, or Uncle Qrow, because… because like you said, it feels wrong. It feels selfish to ask what Mom was doing that was more important than her family. I know that she died for humanity, and I know that that's what any huntress should be willing to do, but all the same, there are times when I get so-"

"So angry," Pyrrha whispered. "Except that you're not allowed to ever be really angry, so you end up-"

"Keeping it locked away inside," Ruby finished for the both of them. "I know that what my mother did was noble and good - and I'm guessing that it was the same with your father too - but although I wish I could say that in my heart that's the only thing I feel… it's not. Maybe it is selfish to wish that they were here, with us, but maybe… maybe that's okay."

"I hope so," Pyrrha said softly, squeezing Ruby's hand in turn. "Just as I hope that the mild hypocrisy of it is also acceptable."

"'Hypocrisy'?"

"We are walking in their footsteps, are we not?" Pyrrha asked. "Perhaps we are also walking to their fates."

"I hope not," Ruby said. "I'd rather we all lived happily ever after, like the heroes in the books, rather than… well, rather than our children sitting here wondering if it's okay for them to be mad at us."

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I… the books of our culture have fewer happy endings than yours, I think," she admitted. "But I would prefer that, too. I would prefer an ending where I can have… where I can have everything that I want." She snorted. "More appalling selfishness."

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.

"I mean…" Pyrrha collected her thoughts. "In the great epics of Mistralian culture, the lords and heroes are known as 'Shepherds of the People.'"

Ruby blinked. "You called me that, in the dorm after… after Sunset upset you."

Pyrrha smiled. "Yes, I did, didn't I? The epithet refers to a lord's duty to protect his people from harm, just as a shepherd protects his flock from wolves and bears. I called you that because I have never known anyone so dedicated to protecting others as you, Ruby Rose, and… and I mean no insult to you now to say that that is an indictment of what Mistral has become. Many noble houses – Thrax, Rutulus, Ming – can trace their descents back through the ages to days long ago and to heroes whose names resound in song and story. Shepherds of the people, they fought for glory and for their honour, yes, but they also fought to defend their people, the villages and shepherds who did them homage. We have forgotten that. Too many of Mistral's best seek only after their own advantage, without thought for the good of Mistral and our territories. I… this will sound very arrogant, but I would like to live up to the ideals of our ancestors and the honour they won that made our families great. That's why I chose to become a huntress, so that I can protect the world and prove myself worthy of the privileges with which I have been blessed. That is my desire, my destiny, it is… the rock at the centre of my soul.

"But at the same time, I feel another desire, like waves crashing against that rock."

"For the rock to go away," Ruby murmured. "To not to have to feel any of that, to not have the weight on your shoulders."

Pyrrha looked at her. "Exactly," she acknowledged. "To do what my father and your mother could not, would not… to walk away and leave it behind. To live… a normal life."

Ruby cocked her head to one side. “Hmm,” she murmured. “I can’t see it?”

Pyrrha frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think you have it in you to walk away,” Ruby said. “Even if… even if you might want to.”

“That’s… kind of you, I suppose,” Pyrrha said. “But I’m not as noble as you.”

“I don’t know,” Ruby demurred. “Anyway, it’s not about that; it’s about… you didn’t have to help Jaune, but you decided to do it anyway. You said yourself you didn’t have to come to Beacon; you don’t have to live up to values that nobody else does. But you do all that stuff anyway because that’s who you are. Like you said, it’s your rock, and no amount of waves are going to break it down.”

Pyrrha looked down at the red sash in her hands. “No, I suppose they won’t,” she agreed softly, with a slight touch of melancholy in her voice. “I only hope… that I can be happy, regardless of that.”

“That’s not selfish,” Ruby informed her. “Everyone is allowed to be happy, even huntresses. Happily ever after all around, remember?”

“I quite agree, Miss Rose,” Lady Nikos declared, as she rounded the corner, the train of her long gown trailing after her along the polished tiles of the floor. “Selflessness is admirable, but all virtues taken to extremes can become vices, and the selflessness that admits no thought at all for self no less so than any other.” She paused. “Pyrrha, I would like to see you in my study.”

Pyrrha rose to her feet. How much did you overhear? “Of course, Mother,” she murmured. She looked down at Ruby and found that she was still holding the younger girl’s hand. “Thank you, Ruby,” she said as she released her. She felt more than a little guilty about going and leaving Ruby to her mother’s tender mercies – Please be gentle with her, Mother – but when her mother spoke, there was little else to do but to obey.

So Pyrrha made her way towards her mother’s study and left Ruby alone.

Ruby looked away. Pyrrha’s mom… kind of intimidated her a little bit. Made even worse by the fact that Ruby was fairly certain that Lady Nikos was trying to be intimidating. It was the way she stared. Her eyes might be the same colour as Pyrrha’s, but they didn’t have any of Pyrrha’s kindness.

Ruby fidgeted with her hands while she waited for Lady Nikos to say something.

“You seem very young,” Lady Nikos observed. “How old are you, Miss Rose?”

“I, um, I’m fifteen,” Ruby murmured.

“Indeed?” Lady Nikos replied. She paused. “It is acceptable to be angry, Miss Rose.”

“Huh?”

“I have been angry with my husband for these many years past,” Lady Nikos continued. “I think… I think that if I were no longer angry, it would mean… that I no longer loved him.”

Ruby’s mouth hung open. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say anything.

“Are you lost, Miss Rose?” Lady Nikos asked.

“Um, no,” Ruby mumbled. Lady Nikos raised one eyebrow. “No… my lady?”

“If you cannot find your way to where you wish to go, then there are many bellpulls with which you may summon a maid to guide you wherever you wish… or inform you if that place is out of bounds. I am sure that Pyrrha will give you a tour later, but for now, I wish to speak with my daughter.”

“Of course.”

Lady Nikos snorted very slightly. “Goodbye, Miss Rose.” She turned away.

“Goodbye, Mi- my lady,” Ruby said, with a very nervous wave. “And thank you,” she added very quietly, so quietly that Lady Nikos did not hear, or if she heard, did not respond.

Pyrrha did not like her mother’s study. For the most part, she did not like it because it was all about her: one wall was filled with printed off articles about her, her victories, her accomplishments, speculation about her future. The her in this case being Pyrrha herself, not her mother.

Pyrrha didn’t like to look at it, and yet, it was positioned in such a way that – sitting in front of her mother’s ebony writing desk as she was – it was very difficult to avoid it whilst maintaining a normal position and proper posture. In fact, in order to so much as reduce the sight to the mere corner of her eye, Pyrrha had to shift in her to a point that must surely look rather ridiculous.

It was certainly not a posture that she could maintain once her mother arrived in any event, and so, Pyrrha returned to a more normal position and posture and tried to concentrate on other things, like the antique sword on a stand directly in front of her, the bust of her great-great grandfather turned away and facing towards where mother would sit when she arrived, the bronze elephants that currently served as book-ends and the restoration-era ebony statuette of a warrior. The House of Nikos was reduced somewhat from the heights of its power and glory, but a great many antiques and heirlooms yet remained to them, and they were a source of great pride to her mother.

Pyrrha wished her mother had not taken such simultaneous pride in her present doings.

The door opened. Pyrrha heard it but did not look around as her mother swept around the desk and took her seat opposite her daughter. Lady Nikos took a moment to collect herself, smoothing out her gown and pulling down her sleeves. She looked at Pyrrha. “Welcome home,” she said once again.

“Thank you, Mother,” Pyrrha said softly, “and thank you for allowing me to bring my teammates here.”

“I am curious as to what manner of people they are,” Lady Nikos murmured. “So far I am less than impressed.”

“Because they don’t know how to bow?”

“Didn’t you tell them what would be expected of them here?” Lady Nikos demanded.

“No,” Pyrrha admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because that isn’t why I asked them here, Mother,” Pyrrha replied. “They’re not Mistralian-”

“But they are in Mistral, in my house,” Lady Nikos declared. “Am I not entitled to respect under my own roof? At least your team leader seems to have some notion of how to behave.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured, wondering where Sunset had learnt to act like that. Not outside the kingdoms, surely? And yet, at the same time, it hardly seemed the sort of thing she would have picked up in Atlas either. She pushed that thought aside. “Please, Mother, don’t spend the entire vacation judging them. That isn’t… I want them to have a good time here. I invited them so that I could share my home and my culture with my new friends, not parade them for your approval, and I don’t want them to think that’s why I brought them either.”

“You want to share your culture with them?” Lady Nikos repeated. “This is our culture: respect for ancient blood and revered nobility.”

“You know what I mean, Mother,” Pyrrha said gently.

“You mean you want to show them around the city’s tourist traps like a common guide,” Lady Nikos said. “Will you hold out your hand for a tip when you are done?”

“Mother,” Pyrrha moaned, “is it so wrong that I want to share the delights on Mistral with my teammates?”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“I have ideas,” Pyrrha replied. “Although I’m not sure that they would all please everyone.” Sunset, she thought, might appreciate the Old Theatre, but it was hardly likely to interest Jaune or Ruby. “The night market is always worth a visit, and the Imperial Gardens are also very beautiful, day or night.”

“Hmm.” Lady Nikos picked up the scroll sitting on her desk. “I have been glad to see that your grades have been consistently excellent,” she said. Her gaze swept up from the scroll to skewer Pyrrha. “I am less pleased that your disciplinary record has not remained spotless.”

Pyrrha sucked in her breath. “That was only a single incident, Mother.”

“You say that as if you missed an essay deadline,” Lady Nikos said sharply. “That single incident was you seeking out an engagement with the White Fang.”

“That was over eight weeks ago, Mother.”

“And?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “And… you didn’t mention it at the time.”

“Some things are best discussed face to face, don’t you agree?” Lady Nikos asked.

Pyrrha did not, at this moment, but she could hardly say that. “We were victorious, and we stopped the theft of a large shipment of dust.” She glanced at the wall behind her mother. “I notice that your displeasure did not prevent you from adding a report on the subject to your record of my accomplishments.”

“Do not try to be witty; you do not have the manner for it,” Lady Nikos informed her coldly. “Of course you were victorious: you are my daughter and the pride of Mistral reborn. What rabble band could stand before you?” She paused. “I must confess that I am not displeased that you have burnished your reputation thus. I am, however, a little confused: you tell me that you wish to go to Beacon in search of this thing you call ‘a normal life,’ this thing that you say to Miss Rose you are not sure if you want-”

“How long were you listening to my conversation with Ruby, Mother?”

“But once you arrive, you go in search of cutthroats to battle,” Lady Nikos continued, ignoring her daughter. “That hardly seems like normal behaviour for a first-year student.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “We… had our reasons.”

“Which were?”

“I cannot say, Mother; it would betray a confidence to do so.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos acknowledged. “I will not, of course, ask you to dishonour yourself.” She paused. “When news of your endeavour-”

“It was an effort by our team and other friends.”

“-reached Mistral,” Lady Nikos continued, again without acknowledgement of Pyrrha’s point, “there were, alongside those praising your skill and daring, those who told me that I should bring you home to Mistral immediately. Professor Lionheart called on me and offered to facilitate your transfer to Haven personally.”

“On what grounds?” Pyrrha asked.

“On the grounds that with the White Fang so confident that they will attempt such large scale operations, then Vale is clearly no safe place for you.”

“Unless you intend that I not compete in the Vytal Tournament, then I will have to go to Vale at some point,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lady Nikos agreed. “Which is why you have not left Beacon.”

“And I am grateful for that,” Pyrrha said softly. “I do not wish to go.”

“Because you do not wish to be parted from your teammates?”

“Because I do not wish to be parted from my friends,” Pyrrha clarified.

“Hmph,” Lady Nikos snorted softly. “So… how was your first taste of battle?”

“I have fought more battles than simply against the White Fang,” Pyrrha reminded her mother. “I have fought the grimm more than once.”

“In either case, how was it?” Lady Nikos asked. “Your father used to tell me that fighting in the field was quite a different beast than fighting in the arena.”

“In terms of fighting… I have not noticed a great difference in style,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I know what father meant… Ruby… nearly died during the battle at the docks. That is something quite different from fighting in the arena, and less pleasant, I admit.”

“And yet it does not dim your resolve?” Lady Nikos asked.

“What kind of coward would I have to be to abandon my friends after one of them had suffered injury?” Pyrrha asked. “Is that the sort of daughter you desire?”

“No,” Lady Nikos declared flatly. “Speaking of Miss Rose, you didn’t tell me she was so young.”

“Does it matter?”

“She must be quite the talent to have been admitted to Beacon early.”

“She is very talented,” Pyrrha said. Her face fell. “Please don’t be jealous, Mother.”

“That depends on whether I am given cause for jealousy,” Lady Nikos replied.

“Mother-”

“That will be all for now,” Lady Nikos added. “I will see you at dinner.”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “Yes, Mother.”

Jaune hovered outside of Sunset's room, hand up but not quite knocking on the door. The truth was that Sunset still kind of scared him, at least a little bit. She was on their side, for which he was very thankful, but he still got the feeling sometimes that if 'do the right thing' was a box to tick on a multiple choice test, Sunset might sometimes tick that box, but it wouldn't be because it was the right thing. He knew that he wasn’t one to talk about doing the right thing, but it didn't change the fact that Sunset made him nervous.

But he needed her help, or at least to know how she seemed to know exactly what to do back in the hall, and so he forced down his nerves and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Sunset called from the other side of the door.

"It's me," Jaune replied. "I need to talk to you."

"The door's open,” Sunset said.

Jaune took that as an invitation, and so, he opened the old oak-panelled door and walked into Sunset's room. The walls were amber, with a band like golden marble, mottled with veins of black and grey, running around the centre of the walls. The curtains - which were all that separated the room proper from the balcony beyond; there were no windows - were a rich crimson bordered with gold thread and equally golden tassel, and they rippled lazily in the afternoon breeze. A tapestry depicting some kind of heroic scene - a stylised battle against the grimm - hung on the wall opposite the bed, which was covered in soft silk sheets.

Sunset's case sat on the bed, half-unpacked but with a few things still lying folded in the case itself; Sunset herself stood on the balcony, her back to the door and her hands resting on the sandy rail. The same breeze that shifted the curtains ran through her hair, and it danced gently up and down.

"What do you think of Mistral so far?" Sunset asked without turning around.

"What I've seen... it's a really nice place," Jaune said as he shut the door behind him.

"Yeah, a really nice place," Sunset murmured. "I've heard that Mistral's worse than Atlas for faunus rights, which is a crying shame. I..." She trailed off, turning to face Jaune and looking... embarrassed? What did she have to be embarrassed about? Jaune went back through what she'd said and couldn't find anything to be ashamed of, unless she wasn't embarrassed by what she'd said but what she'd almost said? It was all he could think of, but it still didn't make a lot of sense to him.

Sunset cleared her throat and looked down at the balcony floor as she half-sa, half-leaned upon the rail. "Something that I can do for you, Jaune?"

Now it was Jaune's turn to feel the sting of embarrassment; when he thought of how Pyrrha's mom had looked at him he wanted to sink into the floor and when he thought of how he must have embarrassed Pyrrha, it was almost enough to make him wish that he'd stayed at Beacon for the break. "How did you do it, Sunset? How did you know what to do?"

Sunset glanced up at him; her brow was furrowed just a little. "You'll have to be a little more specific."

"Pyrrha's mom!" Jaune exclaimed. "I mean, it isn't like I was trying to be rude or anything, but did you see the way she looked at me? I feel like I've messed up already. And you... how did you know to bow, for crying out loud? And what was that you said? Should I have known how to do that? Was I supposed to do research before I came here?"

Sunset's gaze was not without sympathy as she walked off the balcony and back into the room. "Ruby and Pyrrha have a tendency to tell you that things aren't your fault to make you feel better, but I don't, so I hope you can believe me when I say that that wasn't your fault. The truth is, if you'd been meeting Ruby's father, then a firm handshake and calling him 'sir' probably would have got you where you wanted to go... but this isn't Vale, and these people are different."

"Different how? Because they're Mistralian?"

Sunset spread her arms out to encompass the room. "Look around. Think of the house, the grounds, what do you see? What does it say to you?"

Jaune thought about it, the grand house, the lavish gardens, the opulently decorated rooms. "Money?" he ventured.

Sunset snorted. "Well, yes; I mean, they might not be the Schnees, but they're set for life. But that's not what I meant." She paused. "Your sword... it's an old family thing, right?"

Jaune nodded. "My great-great grandfather carried it in the Great War."

Sunset nodded too, slowly, thoughtfully. "And what about his great-great grandfather, who was he?"

"I..." Jaune hesitated. "I don't know."

"I'm not surprised," Sunset said. "I don't know who my great-great-grandfather's great-great-grandfather was either. I doubt Ruby knows on either side of her family. We know the relatives who are still alive; we have the stories that our parents and grandparents pass on to us if we're lucky enough to have them, and everything else... is forgotten. It recedes into the mists and vanishes as though it was never there at all, because memory fades. But families like this don't work the same way. They don't have memories; they have history. They're old."

"Old money?"

"Old blood," Sunset corrected. "There are statues of Pyrrha's ancestors on the lawn, there are tapestries of them on the walls; I bet you Pyrrha's mother knows who her great-great grandfather's great-great grandfather was. It's easy for them to remember because their family history is the history of the city, of the kingdom itself. They're old blood, and that blood is baked into this place. They're different."

"Pyrrha isn't."

"Pyrrha... Pyrrha's something else," Sunset allowed. "Pyrrha doesn't want to be set apart, not for her skill and probably not for all this either. But her mother... her mother knows what she is, I think. And she wants everyone else to know it too and to respond appropriately."

"But how was I supposed to get all of that?"

"I said it wasn't your fault," Sunset said.

"And you," Jaune exclaimed. "How did you get all of that? How did you know what to do?"

"Because I grew up in a palace," Sunset said.

You could have hit Jaune over the head with a rebar, and it wouldn't have stunned him as much as hearing those words come tumbling out of Sunset's mouth. He stared at her, his eyes boggling. "You... huh? You're kidding. You.. .you have to be kidding, right?"

Sunset smirked. "What, you find it so hard to believe?"

Jaune shifted uncomfortably in place. "...kinda?"

A snort escaped from between Sunset's lips. "You can believe it or not; it won't make it any less true. I once lived a life of ease and refinement, dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge." She sat down upon her bed and stretched out her arms over her head. "I was going to be a princess."

Jaune frowned. "Like... you mean you were going to marry a prince?"

"No, I... never mind. It's complicated, and you probably don't believe me anyway."

"Well, if it's true, then... what happened?" Jaune asked. "Why would you give that up to be a huntress? To be treated like dirt in Atlas? Why would you give any of it up?"

Sunset shrugged. "What are any of us doing, putting ourselves in harm's way? Why does Pyrrha want to risk her life when she could live here in the lap of luxury until her teeth fall out? And what about you? I can't believe you grew up deprived; your life must have been okay."

"My life was boring and ordinary, and I wanted more," Jaune said. "Pyrrha's the most selfless, generous person I've ever met. You... no offence, but why would you give up a life of fame and luxury to die for other people?"

Sunset stared at him - almost glared at him - for a moment, and Jaune felt his heart quake as he feared that he had gone too far. But then she smirked at him and said, "Well, you got me there, I admit. That life... things didn't work out like I hoped. But I've got you now, and my team, so it all worked out for the best in the end, right?"

For the first time since he'd met her, Sunset seemed genuinely uncertain. She seemed as though she was asking him for reassurance, genuinely asking him because she wanted, needed, to be told that yes, it had all come good in the end.

"Yeah!" he said, maybe a little too loudly but no less genuinely for that. "We make a great team, don't we?"

"Of course we do," Sunset declared, rising to her feet. "We're going to win the Vytal festival this year and... and lots of other awesome stuff, too."

"Totally!" Jaune agreed. He hesitated. "Uh, Sunset?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you... can you teach me how to act the right way around here, around people like this?" Jaune asked. "I don't want to spend this whole vacation embarrassing Pyrrha in front of her mom, or anybody else."

Sunset was silent for a moment, her eyes gazing into Jaune's. "Sure. I'll teach you the basics.” She got up off the bed. “Now, why don’t we start with where you messed up before: with a bow?”

Jaune bent his back.

“No, not yet, you have to stand properly before you can bow,” Sunset informed him. “Straighten up.”

Jaune stood up.

“No, don’t just stand up,” Sunset informed him. “Straighten up.”

“What’s the difference?” Jaune asked.

“The difference is in your carriage,” Sunset told him. “You’re not a servant, cringing before your superior – so don’t cringe, whatever you do – you are a gentleman, showing courtesy to our hostess. So straighten your back, chin up- not to that ridiculous extent!” Sunset snapped as Jaune raised his head towards the ceiling. “Your father told you women appreciated confidence; didn’t he ever teach you how to be confident?”

“Not really.”

“Then look at me; I’m confidence,” Sunset declared. “Look at the way I hold myself.” She tugged upon her jacket. “No one is more a princess than me.” She posed for him for a moment. “Now you try.”

Jaune hesitated for a moment, and then clasped his hands together behind his back, forcing his shoulders back in turn and straightening his posture. Then, slowly, he brought his hands back round to hang by his sides, keeping his shoulders and his back in place.

“Nicely done,” Sunset remarked. “Now, watch me: hands out on either side like so. One foot back, like so-”

“You mean like a sword stance?”

“No, this isn’t about balance,” Sunset said. “You want to cross your left foot behind your right, like a dancer, resting your toe on the floor. And now… down from the waist.”

Jaune bent his back downwards clumsily. “M’lady,” he said.

“Not like that, you sound like a butler,” Sunset declared. “’My lady,’ gentlemen enunciate their words.”

Jaune sighed. “My lady.”

“That’s better,” Sunset said. “We’ll make a gentleman out of you yet, Jaune Arc, don’t you worry. Now do it again.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The big change here is the presence of Ruby, who will be along for the entire vacation arc, who gets a scene with Pyrrha and another with Lady Nikos.

Family Dinner (New)

Family Dinner

Pyrrha stood in front of her wardrobe, frozen with indecision.

Various possible choices of attire stared back at her from out of the spacious closet; now that she was back home, she wasn’t limited only to the things that she had taken with her to Beacon; a substantial number of formal gowns, which she had had no need of in the first semester – that might change in the second, what with the Vytal Festival and the associated dances – were clustered together on the left hand side of the wardrobe. They were very lovely to look upon, but they were meant for high society functions and were probably far, far too formal for dinner with friends.

Although they might make quite an impression.

Quite possibly the wrong impression altogether.

Pyrrha’s eyes flickered to the more casual outfits on the other side of the wardrobe; there was less risk involved in them, but at the same time… they were the sort of thing he’d seen her in already.

She just couldn’t make up her mind.

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Who is it?” Pyrrha asked.

“It’s Iris, young mistress,” Iris replied. “My lady sent me to see if you needed any assistance. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Pyrrha answered.

The door opened, and Iris glided silently into Pyrrha’s bedroom, closing the door deftly and quietly behind her.

Iris stood beside the doors, hands clasped together in front of her. She waited for a moment or two, and Pyrrha found that even when she returned her attention to the wardrobe and all its choices, she could feel the maid’s eyes upon the back of her neck.

“Is everything alright, young mistress?”

“I… I can’t decide what to wear, Iris,” Pyrrha admitted. “I… I want to… I’d quite like to impress… my guests, but at the same time, I don’t want to seem as though I’m trying to overawe them, if that makes any sense.”

Iris was quiet for a moment. She was a few years older than Pyrrha, having entered service here when Pyrrha was ten years old. Her hair was brown, and her eyes were hazel with just a hint of green about them. “Begging the young mistress’ pardon, but if young Mister Arc isn’t impressed by you after four months spent in your company, he has too little sense to be worth bothering with.”

Pyrrha felt her face redden. “I don’t… whatever are you talking about, Iris?”

Iris turned her eyes downwards. “Nothing that it was my place to see, young mistress; please forgive me.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Pyrrha said softly. “Although… it doesn’t get me any closer to deciding what to wear.”

The smile that crossed Iris’ face was very slight. “Why don’t you go and get showered, young mistress, and I’ll have something suitable laid out for you when you return?”

“That… is probably for the best,” Pyrrha acknowledged. It wasn’t as if she was anywhere close to being able to come to a decision herself, after all. “Thank you, Iris.”

“No trouble at all, young mistress.”

Pyrrha had no qualms at all about getting undressed in front of Iris; she had known the other woman half her life, and she was a woman. She changed out of her huntress outfit and headed into the shower, leaving the maid to do what she herself had proven unable to.

As she stood in the shower, letting the water wash down her body and through her long, red hair, Pyrrha felt doubts besiege her. It had seemed like such a wonderful idea to bring her friends here to Mistral and show them the city in which she had been born and raised, but now that they were there… she should have anticipated her mother’s reaction, she should have done something to prepare them for it.

I should have risked putting them off? But would that have been any worse than allowing Jaune and Ruby to feel humiliated by her mother? What must they think of her now?

I’ll make it up to them. There are so many wonderful things to see here in Mistral, I’ll make sure they have a good time.

But before she could get onto that, there was dinner to survive. Dinner at which her mother would doubtless seek to test each and every one of her friends.

Sunset seemed well-equipped to survive such a thing; Pyrrha had been surprised by the easy way in which she had adopted courtesies which, if not Mistralian, were nevertheless more acceptable than no courtesy at all, but then, Sunset had told her that she had been taught by the leader of a community. A community outside the kingdoms, true, but it was rank arrogance to believe that that meant that they were nothing but crude barbarians living in mud huts.

And besides, Sunset seemed to enjoy a challenge, provided it was a challenge that she was able to overcome. She might actually like having to match wits against Pyrrha’s mother.

On the other hand, Pyrrha could not say the same about Jaune or Ruby. She would have to try and protect them, at least in part, or else the rest of this trip could be rendered rather uncomfortable.

She emerged from the shower, her hair smelling fragrant, courtesy of her expensive shampoo and conditioner, to find that Iris had laid out a simple but elegant red cocktail dress with slit sides and a high neck out on the bed for her, with a pair of scarlet high-heeled slippers sitting on the floor beneath it.

“Will this do, young mistress?” Iris asked.

“I… yes,” Pyrrha said, smiling. “Yes, I think that will do very nicely. Thank you, Iris.”

She was able to get into the long dress without assistance, but where Iris’ help was invaluable was when it came to making up her face; as Pyrrha put on a touch more make-up than was usual for her. As well as the green wings over her eyes, she gave her cheeks a little blush of pink and painted her lips in a delicate shade of red. She wore her hair in its usual gently braided ponytail, with her circlet gleaming on her brow and her golden armband sitting above her elbow. A bracelet of delicate golden links was fastened around her other wrist.

Pyrrha looked at herself in the mirror. “What do you think, Iris?”

“Very pretty, young mistress,” Iris said loyally.

Pyrrha laughed nervously. “You’re probably just saying that because it’s your job.”

“A maid who lies to her mistress doesn’t keep her position long once the mistress’ delusions meet reality, young mistress,” Iris reminded her in a tone of slight reproach.

“No, I suppose not; I’m sorry for suggesting it,” Pyrrha said quickly. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all, young mistress,” Iris said. She hesitated. “If it be permitted to ask, how was Beacon?”

Pyrrha smiled. “Oh, it’s been wonderful so far, Iris. The teachers are… a little eccentric, some of them, but everyone has been so very welcoming to me. It’s been… everything I hoped and more.”

“But you did get into a battle, didn’t you?” Iris asked, sounding slightly anxious about it. “It was all over the news, how you got into some sort of battle with the White Fang.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “My team and I… as you say, we got into a little bit of trouble with the White Fang.”

Iris said, “It’s a funny thing, young mistress, but even though it was all over and done with by the time we heard about it, we were still so worried about you, and I think, this might be me speaking out of turn, but I think my lady was rather worried too.”

“I wasn’t the one to be worried about,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Young mistress?”

“My friend, Ruby,” Pyrrha said softly. “She… it was rather desperate, for a time.”

Iris pursed her lips together in concern. “If I may, young mistress, what were you doing getting yourself involved in a real battle? I thought you went to school to learn how to fight.”

“I know how to fight,” Pyrrha reminded Iris, “and Beacon has plenty of practical exercises… although that wasn’t one of them, I admit. What were we doing there? We were trying to help a friend.” She paused. “I’m told that a lot of people wanted me to come home after that.”

“I wouldn’t exactly know for sure, young mistress, but I do know that my lady had a great many visitors shortly after, including Lady Terri-Belle, the Steward’s eldest daughter. Though what they talked of, I really couldn’t say.”

“I suppose not, but equally I suppose I’ve no reason to doubt my mother about it,” Pyrrha replied. “It appears that I have concerned a great many people, although I couldn’t say why.”

“Speaking for myself, young mistress, I wouldn’t like to see you laid to rest so soon. The crypt is too dark for a young girl to make her home.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Iris, but I doubt that Lady Terri-Belle feels the same way,” Pyrrha murmured.

There was another knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Pyrrha asked.

“Diana, young mistress.”

“Come in,” Pyrrha called.

Diana entered, slightly less unobtrusively than Iris had managed, but Diana was younger, only about an age with Pyrrha herself, and had not been there as long. She curtsied. “Begging your pardon, young mistress, but your guests are waiting for you in the dining room.”

Pyrrha got up from the stool in front of the vanity mirror. “I see.” She was glad that they had been shown into the dining room rather than the Great Hall; it was a little less grand and imposing.

Thank you, Mother.

She didn’t require anyone to show her the way; Pyrrha knew it well enough, and before too long, she had made her way down the stairs and into the dining room. Although it was not so grand as the Great Hall, that was not to say that the dining room was exactly what you would call small. It was still large enough to host a modest dinner party, with a long table dominating the centre of the room, covered in an immaculate white tablecloth and places set for five – the head of the table and the four places closest. The walls were a deep cerulean on the bottom half and a cream with gold leaf pattern on the top, separated by a wood panel of rich ochre which ran around the border of the room. Fire dust crystals burned in sconces on the walls.

Sunset was wearing a ruffled sleeveless, strapless dress that started in deep purple, then transformed seamlessly as it descended through the ruffled layers until it was a translucent pink at the bottom that showed her knees; there was a purple choker wrapped around her neck. Ruby was wearing a red dress that, like the dress that Pyrrha was wearing, had a high neck and no arms, although in Ruby’s case, there was a lot that was only covered by a layer of mesh-like, semi-transparent fabric similar to the tights she was wearing over her legs. Jaune was wearing his school uniform.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” Pyrrha said as she walked in to join them.

Sunset had been holding forth upon some topic, but stopped and said, “Not at all.”

“You… you’re worth the wait,” Jaune said, his eyes fixed upon her.

Pyrrha beamed brightly. “Why, thank you, Jaune,” she said. And thank you, Iris. “I hope that you’ve settled in alright. All of you, I mean.”

Ruby sniggered. “Sunset’s been teaching Jaune how to act properly.”

“Really? There’s no need for that,” Pyrrha said quickly. “In fact, I should apologise to you on behalf of-”

“No, you don’t,” Jaune cut her off. “This is your house, or your mom’s house, and she can act the way she wants to. We’re the guests, we’re the ones who should try and fit in.”

“That’s… very kind of you,” Pyrrha murmured. “Though I’m a little surprised by your tutor.”

Sunset grinned. “You all thought that I was a lout with no manners, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “It’s just that… I would not have thought you the sort of person to be comfortable…” She sought for a polite way of saying that a person who couldn’t stand to be looked down ought to have a hard time amidst the highest levels of society. “You know your own worth,” she finished.

“Indeed, and where do you think I learned to prize it so highly?” Sunset asked. “An Atlesian slum?”

“No, I suppose not,” Pyrrha agreed. “But then-?”

“Sunset grew up in a palace,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Sunset preened her fiery hair. “Where do you think I learned how to be such a good leader?”

“Experience,” Ruby said.

Sunset glared at her, but fondly. “Ha ha.”

“I must confess, I wasn’t aware that there were any palaces beyond the kingdoms,” Pyrrha said.

“There… well… there are more things in heaven and Remnant than you have dreamt of,” Sunset declared.

“I have never claimed otherwise,” Pyrrha replied. “Nevertheless, I am surprised.”

Lady Nikos swept into the room, wearing a short-sleeved green dress that matched her eyes. “Please forgive me, ladies and gentleman, for the delay.”

Sunset bowed her head. “The hostess is never late, my lady; the guests have simply arrived early.”

Lady Nikos laughed softly and drew out her seat at the head of the table.

Pyrrha- was beaten to it by Jaune, who drew her chair back at the same time that Sunset used her semblance to pull back the chair for Ruby.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said quietly, a smile playing across her face as she sat down at her mother’s right hand. Sunset took the seat on Lady Nikos’ left, with Jaune and Ruby sitting beside Pyrrha and Sunset respectively.

Lady Nikos looked over her shoulder to where one of the maids stood upon the door. “You may serve the soup now, thank you, Selene.”

“Of course, my lady,” Selene said, curtsying as she left the dining room out of the door that led towards the kitchen.

Lady Nikos rested her hands upon the table. “I trust that your guest rooms are satisfactory?”

“We are content, my lady,” Sunset said. “The hospitality of your house has not been wanting.”

Lady Nikos inclined her head politely. “So, where do you hail from, the three of you?”

“From… beyond the kingdoms, my lady, by way of Atlas,” Sunset replied.

“From Vale, uh, my lady,” Jaune said.

Lady Nikos glanced towards Jaune, looking a little surprised. She looked towards Ruby.

“Um, I’m from Vale, too,” Ruby said. “From Patch, it’s a little island just off the coast.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. She fell silent as the soup was brought in, a great silver bowl brought in by Selene, while Hestia set five bowls in front of them. Soup was ladled out and into their bowls before the servants departed.

Pyrrha and Sunset both reached for the right spoons; Jaune and Ruby waited a moment to see which spoon the other two were using before they followed suit. The soup was warm and creamy down Pyrrha’s throat.

“If you will permit me, Miss Rose, but did your late mother happen to be Summer Rose of Team Stark?”

Pyrrha looked at her mother in surprise, both that she knew and that she was bringing it up here.

Ruby, Sunset, and Jaune all look startled, but none moreso than Ruby herself. “You… you knew my mom?”

“No,” Lady Nikos said at once. “But I have been a follower of all tournaments for many years, including – especially – the Vytal Festival. Team Stark’s path to victory led through some of the greatest fights I have ever seen.”

“My… my parents’ team won the Vytal Festival?” Ruby asked. “Really?”

“You didn’t know?” Sunset asked in disbelief. “They won in their second year; off the back of what they did at Ozpin’s Stand, the two combined made their reputation. You really didn’t know that?”

“No,” Ruby said. “Did… did my… did my mother fight in the one on one round?”

“No,” Lady Nikos replied. “In the two on two round, she sent forward Qrow and Raven Branwen, and it was Qrow Branwen who advanced into the singles and took the crown of victory.”

“Uncle Qrow,” Ruby murmured.

“You remembered that, Mother?” Pyrrha asked. It surprised her; she had not thought that her mother’s memory was that good.

“The name stirred a memory in the back of my mind, which I then confirmed,” Lady Nikos said unabashedly.

“You really didn’t know that their team had won the Vytal Festival?” Sunset asked in disbelief.

“No,” Ruby said. “I guess that no one thought it was important enough to talk about.”

“Not important enough to talk about?” Sunset repeated in a voice that sounded slightly strangled. “It’s the Vytal Festival!"

Ruby shrugged. “It’s still just a crown.”

“It is far more than just a crown, Miss Rose,” Lady Nikos said, in a voice that was tinged with just a little disapproval. “It is a symbol of pre-eminence in the field of arms. It is a sign that one has risen higher than all others, set oneself above the rest by dint of prowess. The crown is glory given gilded form.”

“So?” Ruby asked. “It won’t keep the grimm away or defend a village or keep the person who won the crown alive. The grimm, the White Fang, they don’t care how many trophies you have.” She gasped. “I’m sorry, Pyrrha, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Pyrrha said gently. “I’m not insulted by it. I understand exactly what you mean.”

“You’re still really cool,” Ruby said quickly. “It’s just that you’d be really cool even if you hadn’t won all those prizes.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You’re very kind to say so.” She glanced at her mother, who was looking at Ruby. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You have no care for worldly glory then, Miss Rose?” she asked. “You do not seek your name to live forevermore on the rolls of heroes?”

Ruby was quiet for a moment. She said, “So long as we act like heroes, does it matter whether anyone remembers us?”

Lady Nikos snorted slightly. “Are you all so self-effacing?”

“I… no, my lady, though whether that is for good or ill I leave as an exercise for your own judgement,” Sunset replied. “I am too covetous of crowns to so… to turn my face away from the prospect.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “And you, Mister Arc?”

Jaune hesitated. “I… I wanted glory when I came to Beacon, my lady. I wanted to be a hero, and unlike Ruby, I wanted to be known as a hero. But now… I’m not sure how much there is to be found.”

“Hmm,” Lady Nikos murmured.

The rest of dinner passed with cool courtesy, the courses being brought in and taken away again while not much conversation passed amongst the table. Barely had the desert plates been taken away than Lady Nikos rose and, without bothering to bid goodbye or goodnight to anyone, swept away from the table.

Ruby cringed. “I, uh, I think I upset your mom.”

Pyrrha reached out to her across the table, taking Ruby’s hand in her own and squeezing it. “You spoke from the heart,” she said. “There is no shame in that.”

“Though I still expect you to put your best foot forward in the Vytal tournament,” Sunset said.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

“You might not care, but I do,” Sunset replied, sharply and firmly in equal measure.

Pyrrha sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… this hasn’t gone completely as I hoped. I should have… I didn’t prepare you very well for this, and I’m sorry. Tomorrow will be better, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Jaune assured her. “Your mom is… moms are moms, we get it.” He hesitated. “Or at least I do.”

“That doesn’t mean that… Mistral is much more than my mother,” Pyrrha said. “Tomorrow, I’ll show you around my home. I promise, things will get better.”

The Concerns of Lady Nikos (Rewritten)

The Concerns of Lady Nikos

Sunset panted as she got up off the mat. She and Pyrrha had been sparring down in the Nikos’ dojo for some time now, beginning before the sun rose and continuing as it began to cast its light in through the high windows.

Actually, no, that was not entirely accurate. To call it sparring would imply some measure of equality between them. It would be more accurate to say that Pyrrha had been kicking Sunset’s ass for some time now.

Hand to hand combat, it seemed, was not her thing.

That’s exactly why I need this. I can’t be caught helpless again like I was by Adam.

Pyrrha looked barely ruffled by the exertion. “How’s your aura?”

Sunset raised her hands in a guard. “I could do this all day.”

Pyrrha didn’t look impressed by Sunset’s bluster. “How’s your aura?” she repeated.

Sunset huffed and held out one hand. Her scroll, summoned by a small amount of telekinesis, flew into it. She checked her aura level. “I’m in the yellow.”

“We’ll take a break,” Pyrrha said.

“I can keep going for a little longer.”

“There’s no need to push yourself so hard, Sunset-”

“If I don’t push myself, who will push me?” Sunset demanded.

Pyrrha was unfazed by Sunset’s snapped response. She looked so untroubled that Sunset could have been whispering as softly as a dove. “You can’t rush this. And I know that you know that.”

Sunset sniffed. “You sound like my old teacher.” You cannot rush this, Sunset Shimmer. The study of magic is the work of years; for some, it is the work of a lifetime. Even you, as powerful and talented as you are, will not master everything you wish to overnight. That was what Celestia had told her after she had found Sunset passed out on the floor of the library, having exhausted herself practicing spells from the books. She had been only a little filly then, but in a way, it gladdened Sunset to know that a part of her was that filly still: impatient, yes, but also eager and… good. Less corrupted by the spirit of the world.

“I’m sure that she was right,” Pyrrha said. “How long did it take you to master your semblance?”

“Years,” Sunset admitted.

“Exactly.”

“I haven’t got years for this.”

Pyrrha looked apologetically. “You realise that you will never be a master with your fists or your feet, nor with a sword.”

“I don’t need to be able to beat you. I just need to be able to hold my own against a reasonably competent opponent,” Sunset said. “I need… I don’t want Ruby to have to put herself in that position for me again.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I understand, but I do think that you’ve done enough for now. And remember that you’re not my only student.”

“Yeah, right,” Sunset murmured. She didn’t really want Jaune to see this, at least not until Sunset was a little better at this than she was right now. “I, um, I’ll give you a second to catch your breath before he arrives.” Pyrrha didn’t look as though she needed that, but she was kind enough not to point out the fact as Sunset walked over to a bench that sat against the white dojo wall and took a drink of water from the bottle resting there.

She looked round the room. All of the dummies and targets had been placed against the walls, jostling for room with rows of swords hanging from wooden racks. The floor was cleared for sparring upon reed mats, already stained by Sunset’s sweat and jostled where Pyrrha had knocked her to the ground. Even holding back as she was, the youngest scion of the Nikos line packed quite a punch.

Sunset took another drink and let the cool water trickle down her parched throat.

The door into the dojo slid open, and Sunset expected Jaune to walk in – she straightened up expectantly and tried to look less beaten than she was – but instead, it was one of the Nikos family servants, who nodded respectfully to Pyrrha before turning her attention to Sunset.

“Pardon me, Miss Shimmer, but my lady requests your presence in her study.”

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, who looked apologetic but said nothing. Sunset took a couple of steps across the reed mats. “May I wash and change first, or does Lady Nikos require me immediately?”

“At once, Miss Shimmer.”

I see. It was possible that Lady Nikos didn’t know that Sunset had worked up a sweat, but it was equally possible that she was making Sunset call upon her lathered with sweat to establish some form of dominance over Sunset.

If so, there was nothing Sunset could do about it; her presence having been demanded – to all intents and purposes – to refuse her host would have been an act of gross rudeness. So she nodded her head and said, “Very well, please lead the way.”

And so, Sunset was brought to Lady Nikos' study, smelling a little of sweat, with her hair askew and her face glowing with exertion. Lady Nikos, by contrast, looked composed; she was dressed - draped might be a more apposite description - in a loose-fitting gown of subdued grey, while her greying hair was bound up tightly in a bun at the nape of her neck. She sat behind an antique ebony desk which managed to be covered in things – an ebony statuette of a warrior with spear and shield; two framed photographs with their backs to Sunset, their contents hidden from her; a sword with a silver hilt in a crimson scabbard, resting upon a wooden stand - without seeming cluttered. Sunset had the impression that everything was in its proper place, exactly where it was meant to be. The room itself was a little stuffy, enclosed; one wall was lined with old, leather-bound books, the other with framed pictures and newspaper cuttings which distance and time did not permit Sunset to study as she would have needed to for a sense of their contents.

Sunset bowed her head. "You wished to see me, my lady?"

Lady Nikos nodded and gestured to a seat across the desk from her. "Please take a seat, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset sat down, clasping her hands together and resting them upon her knee.

Lady Nikos pushed a bowl of fruit across the desk. "You must be hungry after your exertions."

Sunset blinked. "Does my lady have hidden cameras in the dojo?"

"When I was told that my daughter and one of her guests had risen before daybreak," Lady Nikos said, "my first thought was that Pyrrha had been led into vice during her time at Beacon."

"I'm sure your ladyship was glad to find out that we weren't sneaking out to smoke weed behind the stable," Sunset replied dryly. "Pyrrha is not the sort of girl who could be so easily led into, as you put it, vices." It was true that Pyrrha was more a follower than a leader in many respects, but she was not without a strong sense of right: stronger, indeed, than Sunset's own. She wasn't the kind of person to do things just because all the cool kids were doing it. She was, as the saying went, the knight without peer and beyond reproach, although Sunset did not say that out loud, lest Lady Nikos think her a brown-nosing sycophant.

"A fact for which I am as glad as you say," Lady Nikos said. "Although the truth behind your early rising does not make my heart rejoice."

Sunset had an inkling of where this might be going but was in no great hurry to arrive there. So she said nothing and sat in her chair and waited.

"I hope you can understand my bemusement, Miss Shimmer, at the leader receiving instruction from the subordinate. What should I think of that?"

"You could think it a testament to Pyrrha's skill that I chose to seek assistance from her, my lady."

"Testaments to my daughter's skill, I have in great number," Lady Nikos replied. She glanced momentarily towards the wall with all of its framed pictures and articles. Sunset's eyes followed them there, and with the closer distance, even a swift glance told her that they all concerned the reported deeds and exploits of Pyrrha.

"Tell me, Miss Shimmer," she continued, "why should my daughter - a champion of the blood royal of Mistral - follow you?"

"A faunus?" Sunset asked, unable to keep a touch of pique out of her tone.

"I did not say so, nor will I," Lady Nikos said without displaying any anger at the accusation. "My issue is with your inferior skill, not with your race."

Sunset held the older woman's gaze for a moment before she bowed her head. "I apologise, my lady. I had no right to accuse you thus in your own home. I cry your pardon and your understanding."

"You have them," Lady Nikos said. "With the world as it is, your assumption is not without grounds."

Sunset said nothing more to that; rather she said, "As to your true complaint with regards to my worth, my lady, it is true that I cannot throw a punch so well as Pyrrha can, but I am not without talents of my own. They simply lie in other areas."

"Such as?"

"I am a good shot, my lady," Sunset said, "but principally I would base my claims on talent in my wit and in my semblance." She spread her arms out on either side of her and closed her eyes as she called upon her magic. What she was attempting now was complex, not so much for the amount of raw power involved as for the fact that she was trying to do three different things at once. She drew in the ambient magic of the world around her to somewhat replenish her own reserves, even as she spent those same reserves more swiftly. With one hand, she conjured a dozen magical arrows, green darts rising from her open palm to form a kind of deadly halo above her head. With the other hand, she conjured up two shields of shimmering, translucent magic around the sword and statuette that sat on Lady Nikos’ desk. And lastly, something new, something that she had been working on after her experience down at the docks: a suit of armour, resembling the all-embracing steel plates of a knight but forged entirely out of magic, enfolding her form more snugly and securely than any shield spell ever would.

She hoped that all of this was as impressive as she hoped because it was already starting to give Sunset a headache. Performing multiple spells at once like this was one of the few aspects of magic that was easier in this world than Equestria - consequence of the lack of a horn through which all magic had to travel - but that didn't make it easy by any means. It was like trying to focus your attention on three things, not just split it, but give each one a hundred percent of your attention. Sunset wasn't sure how long she could hold it. She blinked rapidly as her head began to rattle like a snare drum.

Fortunately, Lady Nikos seemed at least a little impressed by what she was seeing. Her eyebrows rose. "I take it these are not illusions?"

"Touch the shield, my lady, and you will find out."

Tentatively, Lady Nikos reached for the shield enfolding her sword. She pushed against it, and Sunset could see that she had met resistance. Her whole body glowed as she activated her aura, and she struck the shield with a single fist.

Sunset's shield did not falter.

Again, and again after that, Lady Nikos struck the shield around her blade, and only on the fifth strike did it begin to crack.

Sunset released all her magic, arrows and shield and armour all fading into empty air. She attempted to conceal the immediate weight that settled on her eyelids. "Not invulnerable, my lady," she said, "but durable in defence and powerful in the attack."

"If you can hit your opponent, I assume."

"Is that not the case with all forms of offence?"

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. "I must concede the versatility of your semblance, although I must also question your use of it."

Now it was Sunset's turn to raise her eyebrows. You think you know how to use magic better than I do? "What does my lady mean?"

"Your semblance armour was fine looking, but I cannot see what advantages it offers over mere aura," Lady Nikos said.

Ah, of course. Semblance consumes aura. "It supplements my aura, my lady."

"But does not drain it."

"Not greatly, my lady."

"Have you considered that real armour might serve you better, if you feel the need for additional protection?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "There are many things that might serve me well, my lady, including better armour than the modest breastplate I possess, but my resources are constrained."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured softly. "May I ask, Miss Shimmer, why a huntress in possession of such a semblance requires instruction in the basics of close combat?"

"I have been shown the need for it, my lady, as a last resort."

"A result of your battle with the White Fang, I suppose."

Sunset nodded. "Yes, my lady."

Lady Nikos' face hardened, if only for a moment. "I did not like the news of that, for reasons that I am sure I do not have to elaborate upon. White Fang activity here in Mistral is practically unheard of at the present time, yet in Vale, it seems to be becoming endemic."

Sunset frowned. "You wish to pull Pyrrha out of Beacon."

“It is a possibility I am considering.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “The rules of Beacon-“

“This is Mistral, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos reminded her, “and Pyrrha is my daughter, no matter what the rules of Beacon may have to say upon the subject.”

“I see,” Sunset murmured. “Is there aught that I might say or do to change my lady’s mind?”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "Pyrrha has no need of instruction, at Beacon or at any other academy. I highly doubt that her skills in combat have improved one jot over the course of the semester. And yet, Pyrrha is only young, and I considered the possibility that she might benefit from the mentoring of an experienced huntsman, skilled and seasoned. So you see it was no mere maternal indulgence on my part that led me to accede for my daughter’s preference for Beacon."

Sunset kept her opinion - that she doubted Lady Nikos had ever demonstrated any maternal indulgence towards Pyrrha in her life - to herself. Lady Nikos walked over to the wall, with all its hagiographic praise of Pyrrha and her accomplishments: tournaments and trophies, public appearances flawlessly executed, speculation on her future.

"Professor Lionheart is a small man, utterly unworthy of the great charge that the Council has bestowed upon him; the decline of Haven under his mismanagement has been disheartening to witness. I told myself that my daughter would do better under the guidance of Professor Ozpin, whose skill and wisdom are beyond doubt."

"I cannot speak for Professor Lionheart's faults, my lady, but Professor Ozpin's virtues are as beyond doubt now as they were when your decision was made."

Lady Nikos turned away from her wall to look once more at Sunset. "My daughter has the potential to be the greatest fighter of this age," she declared. "There is no one she cannot defeat, no tournament crown she could not claim if only she possessed the will to reach for it. Yet even the mightiest warrior may be slain by a single arrow. Years of training at vast expense can fall to a ten lien pistol. I do not wish to see my daughter's potential brought to nought by the blade of a White Fang thug."

"No more do I, my lady," Sunset said. She, too, got to her feet. "My lady does not know me, and you do not know my team, but I assure you with all due modesty that Pyrrha could find no better comrades to fight beside than we. Perhaps it is true that Pyrrha could drag two sacks of flour and a rock to victory in the Vytal festival, but with us by her side, she will not have to. I have run Pyrrha closer in combat than any other opponent by her own account; Ruby is a prodigy in her own right and only fifteen - when she is seventeen who knows what a monster she will be? - the potential of Jaune's semblance is yet unbounded. Together, we will not only triumph but bring such glory to our names that the world will resound to the sound of them, and the talk of the world will be how brilliantly we fought. And we will protect each other, and thus as we survived the White Fang, so will we survive all other darkness besides together. I am a stranger to my lady, true, but on my pride and on my dear ambition, dear as life itself, I swear to you: I have Pyrrha's back, and we have both her flanks besides."

Lady Nikos stared into Sunset's eyes. "It is true, I know you not, Miss Shimmer. And yet, I would like to know you better. There is a part of me that wishes my daughter would speak thus of ambition. With respect, how does a faunus whose resources are by your own admission strained learn to speak thus?"

"I was not always that which I am now, my lady," Sunset said. "As I told you at dinner, I came from beyond the kingdoms by way of Atlas only. I was not born a faunus of the slums but in a proud and sovereign place."

"Menagerie? That would explain your manners; high as they are, they are not of the kingdoms," Lady Nikos replied. "I will make no decision yet regarding my daughter's future. I do not know you, Miss Rose, or Mister Arc, but I have time to come to know all three of you. When the end of this vacation draws near, you will know my thoughts."

Sunset bowed. "I understand, my lady, and I thank you."

"You thank me for telling you that I wish to take your team’s star fighter away?”

“I thank you for giving me fair warning, my lady,” Sunset replied. “Now allow me to give you warning in turn: you may test me as you wish, you may test my team as you wish, but in the end, we will surpass your expectations, and you will confess that Pyrrha belongs with us. I do not intend to give her up without a fight.”

Lady Nikos stared at Sunset for a moment. A smile creased her lips. “With an attitude like that, Miss Shimmer, you might actually deserve her.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: Only very minor changes here.

Terri-Belle's Request (New)

Terri-Belle’s Request

After Sunset left to go and speak to her mother – and Pyrrha couldn’t help but worry about that – Jaune arrived, armed and armoured and ready to begin their training. Pyrrha thought it would be better to get it done now, early in the morning when nothing was open in the city, and then have the evening to do as they pleased.

“Hey,” Jaune said, as he walked into the dojo, temporarily letting in the fresh air from the grounds beyond before he shut the door. “I mean, good morning.”

Pyrrha smiled at him. “Good morning, Jaune. Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said enthusiastically. “I was kind of expecting there to be more noise, what with the city and all. I guess it’s the lack of traffic.”

“It’s also the part of town,” Pyrrha added. “I think it gets a little noisier further down the mountain, as you might see for yourself today.”

“Oh, really?” Jaune asked. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well… let’s talk about it over breakfast, when we’re all together,” Pyrrha said. “I’m glad you had a good night.” She paused. “Did you really ask Sunset to give you etiquette lessons?”

“She seemed to know what she was doing,” Jaune replied.

“Sunset seems to know what she’s doing quite often,” Pyrrha said softly.

Jaune chuckled. “I guess, but it works out, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” Pyrrha agreed. “Jaune, you know you don’t need to… there’s no need for you to change who you are or… you know that, don’t you?”

“I’m not,” Jaune assured her. “But this is your house and your city, what right do I have to come in here and insist that everything has to be just the way that I’m used to? If they do things a little differently here in Mistral, then that’s fine; I can do things differently here too.” He grinned. “I just don’t want your mom to think that your partner is an insensitive jerk.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “My mother can think what she likes; I know the truth.” She turned away and picked up Miló where it was currently resting against the wall. “And now, shall we get started?”

They spent an hour training, mostly sword and shield, although they spent a little time towards the end of their session – as a cool down – having Jaune activate and deactivate his semblance so that he became more used to it. Since discovering his semblance at the docks, there hadn’t been that many opportunities for him to make use of it – there had been more practical exercises on the edge of Vale, but none of them had been so dangerous as to require anyone’s aura to be stimulated – so Pyrrha thought it necessary to get him using it, or at least turning it on, each day so that his ability to call upon it didn’t ossify from lack of use. Plus, it allowed Jaune to relax a little more after the melee training, where she was starting to pick up the pace with him. He was improving, slowly perhaps, but he was improving, and Pyrrha had stepped up how much effort she put in against him in consequence; she held back less the more he improved.

“You’re getting much better,” Pyrrha assured him as they were finished. “By the time the new semester starts, you should be a match for Cardin.”

Jaune let out a sort of huff. “Cardin,” he muttered.

Pyrrha frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Jaune shook his head. “No, it’s just that… I mean, after what happened at the docks, Cardin seems like small potatoes, you know. That Adam guy…”

Pyrrha felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought of Jaune going up against a killer like Adam Taurus. “You can’t expect to reach that level after just a few months of training. You saved Ruby; isn’t that enough?”

“Yes,” Jaune agreed. “I mean, I guess. I just wish that I could do more than pick up the pieces with my semblance, you know.”

“I know it must feel like so much work to progress such a small amount,” Pyrrha said. “And I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be, but… I’ve spent more than half my life surrounded by tournament fighters who have stopped striving to better themselves because they’ve reached a point at which their skills are ‘good enough.’ Good enough to please the crowd, good enough to win a few fights, earn them a trophy or two. You could have said that with your semblance, you were good enough and settled into a support role, but you haven’t even mentioned it to Sunset because that’s not who you are. You’re not the sort of person to settle for 'good enough,' and that…” That’s inspiring to me, she wanted to say, but feared that if she said it, he might think… she was afraid that he wouldn’t understand that she was being sincere, and he would not have her think that she was mocking him. “I’ve never met anyone so determined to better themselves as you. You may think there’s so far left to travel, but I’m proud of how far you’ve already come.”

He looked at her. “Really?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Really.”

“You’re not just saying that.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Pyrrha replied. “Not any more, at least.”

Jaune’s smile was soft and tender. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said gently.

The two of them stared at one another for a moment. “Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured, “I…”

Jaune took a step towards her. “Pyrrha?”

“I… I think we should probably get ready,” Pyrrha said. I’m such a coward.

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune agreed. “Thanks for… this.”

“You’re welcome,” Pyrrha said, with a cheer in her voice that belied the extent to which she was kicking herself in private.

She let Jaune leave first while she tidied things up in the dojo after her two sessions.

Perhaps it was like Iris had said, that if he wasn’t impressed by her yet, he wasn’t likely to be.

Or perhaps he was just as afraid as she was.

That was, perhaps, the best she could hope for.

Pyrrha breathed in and out, centring herself as she contemplated the day before her. She couldn’t let worries about such things rule her right now; she had to give her friends a vacation to remember.

She headed out of the dojo and into the house, where she showered and dressed casually in a red tulip skirt and a gold halter-top, with just a narrow strip of bare midriff between the two. She slipped a pair of delicate golden sandals onto her feet and bound up her hair in its accustomed ponytail before heading downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.

Sunset was already there, seated at the table, looking at her scroll. She was dressed mostly in usual attire, with the exception that she had exchanged her normal T-shirt for a purple halter top that fastened around her neck with a black collar. Sunset’s brow was furrowed just a little.

“Good morning,” Pyrrha said as she walked in. “No Jaune or Ruby?”

“Not yet,” Sunset replied, as she put her scroll down on the table. “Morning. No circlet?”

“Not today; it doesn’t really go with the rest of my outfit. Did you sleep well?” Pyrrha asked.

“Pretty much,” Sunset said. “And if I didn’t, it was certainly nothing to do with the bed.”

“Was it to do with anything that I could help with?”

Sunset smiled thinly. “No,” she said. “It was… just a touch of homesickness, is all.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said softly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Pyrrha murmured. She pulled out her chair and sat down opposite Sunset. How was Mother? That was what she wanted to ask, but that seemed almost as hard as saying what she wanted to say to Jaune, and so, she settled for asking, “What were you reading?” as she gestured towards Sunset’s scroll.

Sunset glanced down at the scroll beside her. “Grimm attacks are on the rise, here and in Vale. Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha asked.

“It’s like…” Sunset hesitated. “There are grimm being sighted all over the place, in Mistral and in Vale, but they’re not attacking. Or at least, they’re not attacking much. Like, this report from a place called Higanbana: the grimm destroyed a farm near the village, and they’ve been attacking travellers coming in, but they haven’t assaulted the village yet.”

“That’s… strange,” Pyrrha admitted. “I don’t suppose that Professor Port has ever mentioned anything like that?”

Sunset shook her head. “It’s not how they’re supposed to act, as far as I’m aware.”

“Is it the same story elsewhere?”

“As far as I can tell,” Sunset answered. “Do you think they’re up to something?”

“I’m not sure that the grimm can be ‘up to something,’” Pyrrha replied. “At least I certainly hope not. They’re bad enough without developing low cunning of that sort.”

“True. I mean, it’s almost as if there’s some kind of intelligence guiding them, but that’s-”

“Worrying?”

“I was going to say ridiculous,” Sunset said. “Someone would have discovered it by now. Who’d keep a thing like that to themselves?”

“As you say,” Pyrrha murmured. “All the same, those poor people in those settlements, knowing that there are grimm nearby, even if they don’t attack. The fear that they must be feeling, the anxiety. I’m a little surprised that the grimm can resist it. Is anything being done?”

“Huntsmen are being sent out, here in Mistral,” Sunset told her. “And something called the Imperial Guard.”

“Also huntsmen,” Pyrrha explained, “but sworn to the service of the Lord Steward, at his personal disposal.” If he had sent them forth, then it must mean that resources were somewhat strained and huntsmen limited.

Sunset’s lip twitched. “Sounds like the sort of place you’ll be headed once you graduate.”

“It’s certainly something that… certain people might expect of me,” Pyrrha acknowledged without much enthusiasm, “but I might prefer the life of an ordinary huntress, going where I felt I was needed, particularly if the team stays together after graduation.”

“Yeah,” Sunset murmured.

“Sunset? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Sunset… what did my mother want?”

“Nothing,” Sunset said. “Nothing I can share, at least.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t ask you to betray a confidence,” Pyrrha murmured. “I only hope that she wasn’t too hard on you.”

Sunset snorted. “I can handle your mother, don’t worry.”

“You shouldn’t have to ‘handle’ her, that’s the point,” Pyrrha insisted.

“She is within her rights,” Sunset said. “In Mistral, who can gainsay her the right to act as the Mistralians do?”

“No one, I suppose,” Pyrrha said with a slight trace of a sigh. “I just-”

“Want this to be perfect, I know,” Sunset said. “And it’s going to be great. Just stop sweating over it so much. Do you really think Ruby and Jaune are the kind of people who are going to judge you because of the way your mother behaves?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds slightly ridiculous.”

Jaune came in, having exchanged his usual hoodie for one that was dark blue white stripes across the chest and arms.

“Pyrrha,” he said, “you’re not wearing your circlet.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “You… you noticed.”

“Well, yeah,” Jaune said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed without it before.”

“Probably all the more reason to try something new,” Pyrrha suggested.

“I don’t know,” Jaune replied. “I… I think it looks good on you.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said softly. “Well-”

She was spared from having to reply to that by the arrival of Ruby, dressed in her – already pretty casual – huntress outfit. “Hey Pyrrha, hey Sunset. Good morning, Jaune.”

“Good morning, Ruby,” Pyrrha greeted her with a smile. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yep,” Ruby said. “It’s almost as quiet here as back home.”

“It’s 'cause this is the rich part of town, apparently,” Sunset muttered.

“Well… yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “And we don’t have many close neighbours. In any case, I’m glad you slept well.” She herself had slept intermittently, going over in her head what they might do tomorrow – today, now. “Now that you’re all here, I’ll have them bring in breakfast.”

“Your mother won’t be joining us?” Sunset asked.

“No, not this morning,” Pyrrha said. “Mother breaks her fast at her desk, working.” Even though her mother had no job since she had stood down from the Council some years ago, she was kept busy managing the estate and portfolio of the Nikos family that financed their comfortable lifestyle and had paid for Pyrrha’s first-rate training and equally top-of-the-line equipment. Pyrrha had to admit she was relieved that they would be dining alone this morning; they could be themselves instead of anyone having to feel on tenterhooks thanks to Lady Nikos’ presence.

Sunset’s hand glowed green as she waved it to pull back Ruby’s chair.

The smaller girl flopped onto it. “So,” Ruby said, “what are we going to do today?”

“Well,” Pyrrha said, “I thought that…”

Breakfast was an enjoyable meal prepared in the style of the Cycladian islands south of Anima, with salted pork, omelette with potatoes, aniseed sausages, and various kinds of cheese ranging from hard to soft. Pyrrha might have neglected to prepare her friends for her mother’s manners, but she had prepared the kitchen staff for the fact that Sunset was a vegetarian, and they had made her some frumenty with almonds, currents, and saffron.

With breakfast done, Pyrrha led her friends out into the streets of Mistral, streets that were largely empty when they emerged from the Nikos house but grew more crowded as they descended into the middle levels of the city, lower than the houses of the mighty but higher than the more insalubrious areas of Mistral that lay closer to the foot of the mountain. In between were districts inhabited by folk of moderate prosperity and respectability: merchants who had achieved some success, functionaries in the service of the Council, tenured academics, and popular artists. Here, in this part of the city, were also thriving markets, open-air bazaars where vendors crowded along the sides of the streets to sell their wares and where places of civic significance sat amongst the tea shops and the taverns and the townhouses.

It was still reasonably early, but these streets were still more crowded than those in the immediate vicinity of Pyrrha’s house; already, people were thronging the market stalls and filling the streets, passing hither and thither.

A change of clothes and the absence of her circlet was not sufficient to prevent Pyrrha from being recognised, and eyes followed her as she led her friends through the city. Nobody interrupted her, nobody approached, and unlike in Vale, nobody took any pictures of her. Nobody dared to do so. It was as if she were a goddess amongst men, untouchable, set apart, hedged about by her exceptionalism as though by a hedge of thorns that would prick and tear at anyone who presumed to come too close to her. So, people kept their distance and stared at her and followed her with their eyes and with their whispers as she passed on by.

“Is this what it’s like all the time?” Ruby asked, and when Pyrrha glanced down, she could see that the other girl had her hood up, as though even to be caught by accident in all these stares was getting to her.

“I’m afraid so,” Pyrrha said softly, putting one hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about this, but don’t worry; once we get inside, it will get better.”

“You just have to get into the right frame of mind about it,” Sunset declared. “They’re staring at you because they think you’re awesome!”

“Unfortunately, that doesn’t negate the fact that they’re staring,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Sunset’s gaze flickered between Pyrrha and the equally uncomfortable-looking Ruby. She sighed as she pulled one hand out of her pocket. “Okay. Just give me a second.” As Pyrrha watched, uncertain just what it was that Sunset intended to do – and hoping that it wasn’t anything like yell at the crowd, which might make things worse – Sunset’s hand began to glow with the green colour that Pyrrha had become used to associating with her semblance.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said nervously, because Sunset attacking all of these people just going about their business was definitely not what she had in mind. “What are you-?”

Sunset didn’t give her a chance to finish before a burst of green light flew from her hand and struck Pyrrha square in the chest. It didn’t hurt. Pyrrha didn’t feel an impact, nor any damage to her aura. But when she looked up, she found that people were no longer looking at her. In fact, it was as if their eyes were sliding over her, as though they didn’t really see her at all.

Of course, they hadn’t ever really seen Pyrrha Nikos, so the fact that they had gone on to physically not seeing her was, in many respects, quite an improvement.

Even if she didn’t really understand how it had happened.

“That ought to be good for a couple of hours, at least,” Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha blinked. “Sunset, how did you-?”

“I wouldn’t want to bore you with the technical details,” Sunset said smoothly. “We should probably keep moving before it wears off.”

“You have a really versatile semblance,” Jaune said.

“Yep,” Sunset answered. “I’m like Weiss Schnee, but poor… and a better singer.”

“I’m not sure about that last one,” Ruby murmured.

“Traitor,” Sunset said, without any malice in her voice. “Oh, Pyrrha, one more thing, you might have trouble attracting attention, so it’s probably best if we buy anything you need for you.”

“I… see,” Pyrrha murmured, not really seeing at all. What had Sunset done, and how in Remnant had she done it?

Sunset’s semblance was a lot more than just versatile; in some respects, it verged upon impossible. And yet, it could not be denied.

Pyrrha smiled; this wasn’t the time to worry about such things, especially when Sunset had just given her a great gift of temporary anonymity.

They continued through the streets, passing through Castle Square, which was dominated by the immense General Lagune monument: a large, oval-shaped marble plinth, carved with ornate columns and scrollwork, topped by an equestrian statue of the general himself. Someone had spray-painted the White Fang symbol onto the plinth.

“You know,” Sunset said as she took a picture of the statue with her scroll, “I could have sworn I remember Doctor Oobleck teaching us that this guy lost the war.”

“Yes, but he lost very nobly and refused to abandon his soldiers,” Pyrrha explained. “That… counts for a lot in Mistral. We prefer to honour victors, but where there are none, we will celebrate a good loser instead.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t he also promise to advocate for peace in return for his release and then go home and try to whip up support for continuing the war?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha acknowledged, “but then he returned to the camp of the faunus, who put him to death for his treachery, so you see, although he was… very misguided, he was not ignoble.”

Not far away, a man in a red waistcoat over a white shirt had gotten up on a box in the middle of the square and was addressing the modest-sized crowd gathered to hear him speak.

“Where are the leaders of the land?” he demanded, his words carrying through the air. “Where are the men who run this show?”

“What’s he talking about?” Ruby asked.

“Our taxes go to swell the coffers of the Council, and what are we offered in return? Death stalks the land from here to Argus, and where are the huntsmen to defend us? Walk the walls and see if you can find a huntsman on them! Walk from Mistral to Shion and see if you find a huntsman there! Mistral is prostrate before the monsters, and what recourse have we but to pay even more of our hard-earned lien to grasping Lord Rutulus and his like? How long before we cut the fat ones down to size?”

“We should go,” Sunset said.

“I quite agree,” Pyrrha replied, as she began to walk away. Sunset followed quickly, and Jaune and Ruby followed after, although the latter kept looking backwards.

“What was he talking about?” Ruby asked again.

“Grimm activity is on the rise,” Sunset said, “but from what I read this morning huntsmen have been sent out, so I don’t know what he's complaining about.”

“The territory of Mistral is very great,” Pyrrha admitted. “It may be that there are not enough huntsmen for all the settlements that would like one, at least to have one there permanently.”

“I can see how that might upset some people,” Jaune said, “but I’m not sure what you can do about it; I mean you can’t magic up more huntsmen out of nowhere.”

“Some people just want something to complain about,” Sunset said.

“Some people certainly do,” Jaune muttered.

“Hey!”

“At least the Mistral Council is sending out its huntsmen,” Ruby murmured. “I’m not sure Vale would do the same.”

Pyrrha and Sunset glanced at each over Ruby’s head and wordlessly came to the decision not to mention that Vale might be in a similar position to Mistral; there was no point in giving Ruby something to worry about that she couldn’t influence.

Pyrrha led her friends to the Mistralian Museum, a magnificent building fronted with marble columns like an antique temple and a frieze atop the columns depicting various peoples from all across Anima presenting their treasures in tribute to a Mistralian Emperor. They climbed the steps – after a brief pause to let Sunset take some more pictures – and Pyrrha found that Sunset was absolutely right about not being noticed: whatever it was Sunset had done caused the eyes of the woman at the ticket office to slide off her, and she had to give her lien to Sunset to purchase the admission tickets for her.

Inside the museum, they were greeted first of all by the skeleton of an immense dinosaur, a four-legged creature with – judging by the size of its ribcage – an immense body and a long neck, albeit with a small head in comparison to the size of the rest of it. It dominated the museum atrium, four legs resting on a raised plinth, while the long neck and the tail almost as long stretched back and forth towards the door and the next hall.

Ruby’s eyes went wide at the sight of it, and Jaune looked almost as awed. Even Sunset looked pretty impressed.

“Woah,” Ruby whispered.

“What is that thing?” Jaune asked.

“An animal that lived a very long time ago,” Pyrrha explained.

“Things that big lived here?” Sunset gasped.

Pyrrha nodded. “Their bones are found all over Anima.”

“It’s the size of a dragon!” Sunset cried in a strangled voice.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Well, yes, they think the dragons were of the same order. That’s why the dragon skeleton is displayed with the others.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You… you have a dragon skeleton here?”

“Yes, it’s one of the most prized exhibits.”

“And we’re not talking about a grimm?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Pyrrha said calmly. “Would you like to see it?”

Sunset nodded, eager and anxious in equal measure. “Lead the way!”

The dragon skeleton had rather scared Pyrrha when she was young, but now that she was a little older, she could see that there was a kind of majestic grandeur to it. The bones of the great beast had been arranged in such a way that it seemed to be in combat, its long neck drawn backwards, its immense jaws open to snarl in anger, baring its teeth as long as spears. Its foreclaws were bared, and the skeleton frame of its wings were spread out as if trying to intimidate its enemies by making itself seem bigger than it was.

For size comparison purposes – and also because whoever had arranged the museum displays had an eye for an exciting set up – the dragon skeleton was opposed by a false grimm, one that was large and almost draconic in its own right, a grimm version of the artist’s representation of the dragon that faced it across the hall. They snarled at one another, both frozen, poised to attack but never actually able to charge.

“A real dragon,” Sunset whispered. “A real… what in Celestia’s name? How did you get here?”

“I want to know where they all went,” Jaune asked as he turned in place and looked around the edges of the hall, dominated by the skeletons of giant herbivores and carnivores, most of them larger than the oldest and most terrible of grimm. “What killed all these huge creatures?”

“Men, probably,” Sunset muttered.

“Some believe that whatever caused the moon to shatter caused debris to fall to Remnant, causing great devastation,” Pyrrha replied, “but no one really knows for sure.”

Fortunately, however it was that they had eventually met their end, the giant lizards – and the giant mammals in the next hall – proved to be a big hit, which was a great relief to Pyrrha as she watched her friends gasp in awe of the mighty behemoths that had once bestrode the world. Even more popular – with Ruby at least – were the classical weapons and armour exhibits. There were probably at least as many reproductions as there were actual ancient weapons in the exhibits, but then, a lot of them were quite old reproductions, some from before the Great War, so that made them rather historical in their own right, and it wasn’t as if they were sprung out of thin air. All the swords and spears and suits of armour, all the chariots, were based on detailed readings of the sources.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Ruby said as she stood before replicas of the sword and spear of the legendary Pyrrha, her namesake who had fought before the walls of Mistral to defeat the invading hosts of the south. “These weapons look really similar to the sword and spear mode of Miló.”

Pyrrha didn’t need to look at what she meant. She knew exactly what Ruby was referring to already. “Yes, that’s… not a coincidence,” she admitted. “I designed Miló’s sword form and spear form to look that way… I suppose I’m a bit of a fan.” She laughed nervously.

Ruby chuckled. “I think that’s really cool.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean a cool weapon is a cool weapon, but I think it’s great when someone’s weapon is based on something that means something to you, you know?” Ruby said. “Like, Crescent Rose is based on the scythe my Uncle Qrow uses, and your weapons are based on the weapons of a hero you admire. They ought to mean something, because they’re not just weapons; they’re a part of who we are.”

Whatever Sunset had done to Pyrrha had worn off sufficiently by lunch time that Pyrrha was able to get everyone lunch in the museum restaurant: cheese tartlets and almond cookies, the latter of which caused Ruby to look slightly askance… right up until she actually tried one.

“Do you like it?” Pyrrha asked as she watched the enjoyment blossom on Ruby’s face.

Ruby nodded eagerly, and crumbs fell out of her mouth as she spoke. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d be this good without chocolate, but these are really nice, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said.

After a little longer spent at the museum, Pyrrha led the three of them to an observation deck between half and three quarters of the way up the mountain, set in the cleft where the waterfall ran down between the two peaks, offering an expansive view of the city spreading out around them on either side.

Ruby, Jaune, and Sunset all rushed to the wooden railings that prevented accidents, standing at the edge of the platform with the city spread out before them.

They had already seen the city from the air, of course, but they were all good enough sports to at least seem excited to see it from this angle also. Pyrrha didn’t join them, but rather hung back a foot or so from her friends, choosing to watch them rather than watch the view.

She was glad that they appeared to be having a good time so far.

She was very glad that things were going much better today than they had yesterday.

Sunset leaned upon the rail, her tail swishing back and forth, and began to softly hum a tune that Pyrrha didn’t recognise.

“That sounds lovely,” Pyrrha said as she walked closer to the others. “What is it?”

Sunset glanced up at her. “Oh, just a little ditty from my home. This place… it’s beautiful.”

“I certainly think so,” Pyrrha murmured. “Mistral is not without her problems, but for all that, she remains… Mistral. Old and proud and fair and… home.”

“So what’s the song?” Ruby asked.

“Hmm?”

“The song you were singing,” Ruby explained.

“Oh, no,” Sunset said. “No, I am not singing it.”

“Well, now you’ve got to,” Ruby said, with a slight pout on her face.

“I do not have to do anything,” Sunset insisted.

“I think we’d all like to hear it,” Pyrrha said with amusement in her voice.

Sunset rolled her eyes, even as her face reddened a little with embarrassment. She cleared her throat, not once, but twice. She coughed into one hand.

The fire of friendship lives in our hearts,

So long as it burns we cannot drift apart,

Though quarrels arise their numbers are few,

Laughter and singing will see us through.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Ruby cried.

“How did a people with songs like that turn out someone like you?” Jaune asked.

“You are on very thin ice today, Jaune Arc,” Sunset growled.

“I thought it was lovely,” Pyrrha said, putting a hand on Sunset’s arm. She looked away from the others, out across the gorgeous vistas of her home. “If… if more people valued song and good cheer over the accumulation of riches or the hoarding of power and prerogatives, it would be a merrier world, I have no doubt.”

They stood together in companionable silence until they were disturbed by a voice hailing them from behind.

“Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha turned around. “Lady Terri-Belle?” she asked.

Terri-Belle Thrax rested the butt of her spear upon the ground as she regarded Pyrrha with a flat gaze from her grey-green eyes. The daughter of the Steward was tall, of a height with Pyrrha herself, and a little broader in the shoulder. Her face was stern, her features sharp and a little hard-edged. Her hair was metallic grey and worn in a tall Mohawk resembling the crest of a helmet, while the rest was braided tightly together and fell over one shoulder. She was armoured in a linthorax cuirass with studded pteruges and gleaming silver vambraces upon her forearms. An armoured headband protected her brow, nose, and cheeks. The straps of sandals wound their way up her legs, and upon her hip, she wore a great horn, bound about with silver and carved with ancient runes.

“Indeed, Lady Pyrrha,” she said. “Your mother suggested I might find you here.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Allow me to introduce my teammates-”

“I would have words with you,” Terri-Belle said sharply. “Alone.”

Sunset tensed visibly from the insult. “Who do you think you are-?” she began.

“This is the Lady Terri-Belle, of the House of Thrax,” Pyrrha explained. “Daughter of the Lord Steward of Mistral, Captain of the Imperial Guard, and Warden of the White Tower.” The House of Thrax had for many generations served the Emperors and Empresses of the House of Nikos faithfully and with honour, and while the Great War had brought about the end of the Imperial throne, it had not abolished the chair of stewardship, and Terri-Belle’s father, Lord Diomedes, possessed a permanent seat on the Council.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I see. I would have hoped my lady’s pedigree would have sufficed to grant her a small measure of courtesy.”

Terri-Belle did not look insulted. She barely seemed to notice that Sunset had spoken. “I would have speech with you, upon a matter of grave importance,” she repeated. “Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, I will. Excuse me, everyone, I won’t be long.”

“We’ll be right here,” Jaune assured her, while Sunset looked as though she had sucked on a lemon.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said gratefully. It was a little concerning that Lady Terri-Belle spoke of grave matters, but hopefully, whatever it was she wished to speak with Pyrrha about would not take long, and she could return to her guests.

Terri-Belle turned away, not waiting for Pyrrha to follow – Pyrrha had to walk quickly to close the distance between them – and strode off towards the doors leading to a corridor that wound through the mountain itself and which Pyrrha and her friends had taken to reach this spot. Pyrrha followed her into the darkness of the dimly-lit tunnel, the little light glinting off Terri-Belle’s armour and the silver band about her horn. Pyrrha could hear the spear-butt tapping upon the ground.

Terri-Belle stopped, her eyes gleaming in the darkness as she turned once more to face Pyrrha again. “Your mother told me that you had returned to Mistral, Lady Pyrrha,” she said.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “I’m here for the vacation. I brought my team with me to show them our fair city. Did you have to be so rude to them?”

“They do not concern me.”

“Sunset is right; you were discourteous, my lady,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

Terri-Belle did not reply to that. “Is it true that you have done battle with the White Fang?”

“Once,” Pyrrha confessed. “Alongside my teammates.”

“Stop harping on your teammates, Lady Pyrrha. We both know-”

“No,” Pyrrha said firmly. “You do not know, and I doubt I will recognise whatever you are about to stay against them. I am sorry, Lady Terri-Belle, but I will not stand for it.”

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. “Forgive me. I did not come here to pick a quarrel with you. I will even apologise to your teammates if it will mollify you.”

“That would be very kind, thank you, Lady Terri-Belle.”

“But you did fight the White Fang?” Terri-Belle asked.

“As I said, it was only once.”

“Once was enough for many in this city,” Terri-Belle declared. “When reports of your actions reached Mistral, the commons rejoiced at your success; amongst the high, there were those who were not best pleased that even at school, you had found some way to aggrandise yourself and swell your reputation in the field of arms.”

“That was not my intent,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Perhaps not, but fame cannot be set aside simply because you did not intend to gain it when you did the deed that made you famous,” Terri-Belle reminded her. “For my own part, and I was not alone in this, I was afraid.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed slightly. “Forgive me, Lady Terri-Belle, but I do not understand why my living or dying should concern you.”

“My father does not understand it either,” Terri-Belle muttered. She was silent for a moment, but her breathing was heavy enough that Pyrrha could hear it in the badly lit tunnel. “You are the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, Lady Pyrrha. I was Haven’s great hope once upon a time, but I never had your speed, your sheer blinding skill. I had four years at Haven and more years in the field since, but I have no doubt that with your one semester at Beacon, you would best me, such is your skill. In you, the valour and the brilliance of the heroes of old lives once again.” Terri-Belle paused. “I fear you are the evenstar of our people, the last gleaming of a brilliant light which, once it shall cease to burn, shall never shine upon the world again.”

“I am but an arena champion,” Pyrrha said.

“You are a champion sprung out of the line of Nikos, the blood royal,” Terri-Belle declared. “You are fair and gentle and beloved of the general for all these things besides the skill which would alone be quite enough to make you well beloved. If you shall fall in battle, far from home, then the House of Nikos shall die with you and all of its achievements… turned to ashes. You are the hope of Mistral, and as such, your place is here in Mistral, not engaging in squalid street battles in far-off Vale.”

Pyrrha swallowed, for her throat felt dry. “What are you saying, Lady Terri-Belle?”

“I am asking you to do your duty and come home to Mistral,” Terri-Belle declared. “I shall make you my second in the Guard, in place of my sister Shining Light, and when my father dies and I take up the chair of Stewardship, I give you my word that I shall name you my captain and Warden of the White Tower. The defence of Mistral and all our lands shall be yours, to shepherd the people against the grimm.”

Pyrrha’s mouth hung open. The Imperial Guard? Second? Captain? This was… this was too much, too soon. “You mock me, Lady Terri-Belle. I am only a student-”

“And I am the Steward’s daughter; if I wish to make you a huntress, then none will gainsay my right to do so,” Terri-Belle declared. “You are skilled enough to fight in the field; do you not think it is your duty to do so instead of wasting time in classrooms that teach you nothing?”

“Were you wasting time during your four years at Haven?” Pyrrha asked.

Terri-Belle snorted. “I spent four years out of my father’s shadow.”

“Yet you would begrudge me the chance to do the same at Beacon?” Pyrrha replied.

“Mistral had not such need then,” Terri-Belle said. She paused. “My father is a noble man, but age has hardened him until now… he is as solid as wood and as hard to bend. You have heard of the unusual behaviour of the grimm?”

“I have.”

“Lionheart has mismanaged the huntsmen; there are too few to respond to this sudden crisis,” Terri-Belle said. “I have persuaded my father to let me send out the Guard, but… there are not enough men to garrison every village… our people lose hope. And I… I do not have it in me to be beloved. But with you by my side… when people hear that the Champion of Mistral has returned and taken up the defence of the kingdom, they will rejoice, and all fear will be banished from their hearts.”

“You would have my name,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I would have you and all your gifts and blessings,” Terri-Belle declared. “I have need of you, Lady Pyrrha, for your name and also for your unconquered spear, for of spears, we have too few.” She stepped closer, so that Pyrrha could get a better look at her face. “I do not ask this lightly, believe me. I know, at least I think I may guess, why you went to Beacon. But Mistral has need of you, and so as a daughter of Mistral and the line of Nikos, I ask you to put your kingdom above yourself and do your duty.” She paused. “I must go; I have scarcely returned from Sakuraso when I must set out again for Higanbana. But think on it, for Mistral’s sake; promise me that you will think on it.”

Pyrrha hesitated. She wanted to refuse to do so. She wanted to simply refuse. She wanted to go back to Beacon once this vacation was over. She wanted four years away from her fame, away from the shadow of all it meant in Mistral to be Pyrrha Nikos of the many titles.

But how could she refuse? How could she refuse to even consider? Mistral was calling upon her, how could she refuse to answer?

“For Mistral’s sake,” she said, “I will consider it.”

For Mistral’s sake, how can I say no?

Even if ‘no’ is the only thing I want to say?

Counsellors (New)

Counsellors

"Mother? May I have a word with you?" Pyrrha asked as she stood diffidently before the open door into her mother's study.

Lady Nikos looked up from her screen, which was displaying what looked like stock indexes. "Of course, Pyrrha," she said, taking off her glasses and putting them down on the desk in front of her.

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said quietly as she walked into the study and shut the door behind her.

"How did your teammates enjoy the delights of our fair city?" Lady Nikos asked.

"I wish you could bring yourself to call them my friends," Pyrrha murmured.

"Does it matter whether I use one word or the other?"

It matters to me, Pyrrha thought. They're all so much more than just my teammates.

For a little while longer, at least.

"Lady Terri-Belle found me today," Pyrrha said as she turned away from the door and faced her mother across the room. "She said that she had spoken to you."

"I was able to suggest a few places you might be," Lady Nikos said.

"And you are also aware of the grimm activity taking place across Mistral," Pyrrha said.

"I am as capable of keeping up with the news as you," Lady Nikos declared. "I have engaged Rutulian Security to police some of our more far-flung estates."

"That… is a good idea, Mother," Pyrrha said. "Our tenants will be protected, and the Council's huntsmen will be freed to protect less prosperous communities."

"I am capable of getting a sound notion in my head from time to time," Lady Nikos observed dryly.

"Yes, of course, Mother, I didn't mean to… I'm sorry," Pyrrha said, bowing her head apologetically.

"Don't cringe like a supplicant," Lady Nikos admonished sharply. "Do you carry yourself around Beacon in that servile manner? You are a daughter of the House of Nikos; you might try and act like it."

"Just because I am a Nikos doesn't mean I need to strut around as proud as a queen, acting as though Beacon – or anywhere else – were my fiefdom," Pyrrha replied. "At least, I don't think so."

"Hmph," Lady Nikos snorted. "Your team leader, Miss Shimmer, struts very well."

"I have observed it, Mother."

"I must say, of your three companions, she is the only one to so far impress me," Lady Nikos continued. "You could learn a great deal from her."

"Sunset… Sunset has many excellent qualities, but I would not want to be her," Pyrrha revealed. "I would… I would prefer to be myself." Whoever that may be.

Lady Nikos stared up at her. "My contract with Rutulian Security also gave me the opportunity to speak to Turnus," she observed.

Pyrrha sighed. "Mother, please don't-"

"He is a fine young man," Lady Nikos insisted. "Strong, skilled in arms, wealthy and well-born-"

"Arrogant, entitled, heedless of anyone's opinion but his own," Pyrrha replied; in her opinion, Turnus Rutulus was nothing more than a slightly more capable Cardin Winchester. "Cruel, for all that he wears a veneer of courtesy. Please tell me that you didn't give him any further expectation of my hand."

"He is the most eligible bachelor in Mistral; where will you find a better man?"

A pair of kind blue eyes and a mop of soft, blond hair flashed before Pyrrha's mind's eye. "I'm not sure that we could agree on what it means to be a better man than Turnus Rutulus, Mother. Suffice it to say that I do not want him for a husband, any more than he wants me."

"If he does not want you, then it is curious that he has waited so long."

"He wants the heiress to the Nikos family, no doubt," Pyrrha acknowledged, "but how can he wish to marry Pyrrha when he does not know her?"

"You speak as if you were sprung from a fairytale, not from my womb."

"Do you consider it so childish that I should wish to be loved and wooed for my self, and not for my name and its attendant advantages?" Pyrrha demanded.

"Yes," Lady Nikos said bluntly. And the worst part was that Pyrrha… Pyrrha feared that she was probably right to suggest that she, Pyrrha, had nothing to recommend her but her name and fortune.

After all, it was Weiss he chose, not me.

"But let that pass for now," Lady Nikos continued. "You are yet of an age where your focus should be upon your skills. What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Do you know why Lady Terri-Belle wished to speak to me?" Pyrrha asked.

Lady Nikos leaned forward just a little. "I confess, she did not venture to confide in me."

"I see," Pyrrha said primly. She felt… she felt very close to being angry with her mother right now. You wish me to be more like Sunset? Then what would Sunset do? "Then… then neither will I," Pyrrha declared, turning and walking out of the study without another word, leaving her mother to stare in impotence at her retreating back.

“Pyrrha!” her mother’s voice cracked like a whip.

Pyrrha stopped and looked over her shoulder. Lady Nikos stared at her, her expression mingling sourness… but also, unless Pyrrha was very much mistaken, a touch of admiration too.

“I will not ask you to betray the Lady Terri-Belle’s confidence, of course,” Lady Nikos declared. “However, there is one thing I should inform you of before you… leave. Lord Thrax is hosting a soiree in a few days time, and I have procured invitations for your teammates. I expect them all to be there.”

Pyrrha stared at her mother. “A formal function? At the palace? Mother, what have they done to warrant such cruelty?”

“I see nothing cruel about it,” Lady Nikos said. “They may find it… quite enlightening. Will you inform them?”

Pyrrha sighed, feeling defeated in spite of everything. “Yes, Mother.”

Pyrrha sat in the library. Not a public library anywhere in Mistral, but the library in her house; she sat curled up in a comfortable armchair, a leatherbound copy of Virgil's History of Mistral books XV-XX resting upon her lap. Behind her, the curtains were yet undrawn despite the fact that it was night outside, and if she had turned to look out of the glass doors, Pyrrha could have seen the gardens shrouded in darkness. To her left, long stacks of shelves arose, lined with books thick and heavy and many of them quite old, groaning not only with the weight of the history within them but also the history of the tomes themselves.

To her right, upon a small round wooden table upon which a lamp stood and shone, Pyrrha had set her scroll; it displayed the picture that the team had taken at Benni Haven's restaurant after the Forever Fall field trip: the four of them posed around the fake beowolf, Fluffy. They all looked so happy, smiling out at Pyrrha from the screen of her device. She had felt so happy that night. She had felt as if she had found what she'd been searching for.

She had thought that there must be more to her life than what she had known in Mistral, more than winning flawless victories in tournament after tournament. She had thought that there must be another life waiting for her, if only she had the courage to go out and search for it, and at Beacon, she felt as though she had found it: two great friends, and Jaune, whom she thought that she might… that she could…

It was something that she'd never expected. To be sure, she had dreamed that it might happen, but she had never dared to actually hope. She still didn't know if she had any grounds to hope, or was she still just dreaming.

And now she might never find out.

Pyrrha's gaze flickered down to the volume in front of her.

And Pyrrha of the shining helm answered him thus, "All these things are also in my mind, love, but I would be shamed before the great-hearted Mistralians, of the bronze armour and the long robes, were I to shrink from the fighting."

She had to go, that was the heroic theme resounding down from the Mistraliad through all the great poetry of their kingdom down to the histories that had been written of those far-off times. The hero could not shrink from their destiny, no matter how much they might want to. They must go.

And so must I, for I cannot see how I can in good conscience refuse.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha looked up, a gasp escaping her lips. Jaune stood in the doorway of the library, one hand resting upon the doorframe, half in and half out of the dimly lit room – there was only the lamp on Pyrrha's table on at present.

"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured. She spoke up a little. "Is there something wrong?"

Of course there was, there had to be; she had been a very poor hostess ever since her conversation with Terri-Belle, too preoccupied by her thoughts and considerations to entertain her friends as they deserved. She hadn't even taken them anywhere this evening, all thoughts of a visit to the night market driven from her mind as she had hunkered down in the library with histories and epics for company, brooding over her position and… and the unfortunate necessity of saying goodbye.

Jaune smiled softly. "I think I should be asking you that, don't you think?"

"Asking me?" Pyrrha said. "Why?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Pyrrha smiled, if only for a moment. "I'd love you to," she whispered.

Jaune walked in, leaving the door open behind him. He dragged an armchair across the scarlet carpet so that it was closer to Pyrrha, close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wished. He sat down, his hands resting upon the arms of the chair. "What's going on, Pyrrha?"

"I… what do you mean?" Pyrrha asked disingenuously.

"Pyrrha, come on," Jaune insisted. "You've been acting out of sorts all afternoon, ever since you talked with that woman."

"Lady Terri-Belle?"

"Yeah," Jaune agreed. "You've been… different."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not asking for an apology," Jaune said quickly. "I just… you seemed so happy this morning, and now… what happened? What did she say to you?" He paused. "Maybe it's private, and if that's the case, then just tell me, and I'll back off, but… you've done so much to help me. I know that I haven't always appreciated it – or deserved it – but that never stopped you. So if there's anything that I can do to help…" he reached out for her hand and took it tenderly. "You only need to tell me."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. She stared down at Jaune's hand on top of hers, tentatively, not closed around her wrist but seeming almost poised to do so. "Jaune, why are we at Beacon? Why am I at Beacon?"

Jaune's brow furrowed. "To learn how to become huntsmen."

"Exactly," Pyrrha agreed, her voice quiet verging upon tremulous. "That is the shared goal to which we are all working; everything else is secondary to that. For my part… it is what I've always desired. My skills suit me for it, and my birth… my birth demands my service to the community that has raised me so high in wealth and luxury and… and in its estimation."

"You're talking about duty," Jaune murmured.

"Yes, exactly," Pyrrha replied. "My duty as a Nikos and a daughter of Mistral." She put the book down on the table and got up, pulling her hand away from his as she walked towards the glass doors. The light of the shattered moon fell down upon her. "Lady Terri-Belle offered to make me a huntress."

She didn't look around to see how Jaune was taking that news, but the fact that he had been rendered speechless said a great deal. When he did speak, it was to say, "Already? I mean, sure, as a fighter, you're probably ready, but I could say the same thing about Yang, or Ruby, or… or anyone except me. You're better than anyone else at Beacon, but if it's only about catching up to you, then what chance do the rest of us have?"

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I think you might be putting a little more thought into it than Terri-Belle," she said. "As far as Lady Terri-Belle is concerned, I am a skilled fighter, very skilled, and I have a name that people recognise, that they trust. And so, to take advantage of my skill and of the recognition of my name, she will make me a huntress and grant me a place by her side in the Imperial Guard of Mistral. But of course, if I accept, then I won't be going back to Beacon."

She turned around to see how Jaune was taking that. He stared at her, mouth hanging slightly open, eyes wide. "You're not kidding?" he whispered. "You're serious, about all of it."

"I know that it must sound absurd to an outsider," Pyrrha conceded.

"No!" Jaune said quickly. "You're… you're wonderful, I totally get what she wants you on her team. Who wouldn't?"

Pyrrha smiled. "You're very kind, but you don't have to pretend to understand. Although there are still some old families like the Winchesters left in Vale, they don't lord their bloodlines the way we do in Mistral, nor do the public revere them as they do our grand old families here in Mistral. According to Terri-Belle, the people need a hero to believe in, and she thinks that can be me."

Jaune got to his feet. "So… you'd stay here, in Mistral?"

"That's right," Pyrrha confirmed. "If I accept her offer."

"Will you?" Jaune asked.

That was the nub of the matter. Pyrrha held herself, wrapping her arms around her body. "I don't want to," she admitted, in a voice that was rendered quiet by shame. "But… I don't see how I can avoid it. How can I claim to want to be a huntress if I turn away from my destiny for the sake of… so that I can spend the next four years with…?"

She looked into his eyes. Ask me to stay. Ask me to stay, and I will. Tell me that I should stay, with you. That's all it will take. All you have to do is ask.

Jaune looked down at the floor. "I… I don't want you to go," he said, and Pyrrha's heart soared to hear it in spite of the misery in his tone. "You're my partner, and I don't want to lose you. But at the same time, I don't want to tell you that you can't do the thing that matters to you when the opportunity is right in front of you. It sounds like you have the chance to do something important, and I… I can't be the one who stands in the way of that, not after all you've done for me."

Oh, Jaune. Of course he thought that he was being kind and noble, he thought that he was doing the right thing, saying the right thing. Of course he would say that, because he was too good to say anything else, not realising that it was the opposite of what she had wanted him to say. "I… I see."

"He doesn't," Sunset said as she strode into the room.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha said weakly.

"Jaune isn't the only one who can notice that you're out of sorts," Sunset explained.

Pyrrha frowned. "Have you been listening outside the door?"

"Uh-huh," Sunset said without a trace of shame. "Jaune, will you give us the room?" Her jaw tightened. "Please," she added.

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you, Jaune, you've been… thank you," she said, not quite able to tell him that he'd been any kind of help to her.

"Right," Jaune said, and there was an uncertainty in his tone as if he was not sure that he'd been of any help either. "I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Pyrrha said. "The fact that you tried to help… I appreciate it." She smiled at him, albeit it was a smile that faded swiftly, like a sudden squall.

"Right," Jaune said. "I… goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jaune," Pyrrha whispered as he beat a retreat out of the library, sliding around Sunset who stood as if rooted to the spot, her arms folded as she glowered at Pyrrha.

As Jaune left, Sunset's hand glowed as she slammed the door shut after him.

"He's so not worth it," Sunset said.

Pyrrha blinked. "I… I don't know what you mean."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "At first, I thought you pitied him, like a lost puppy, but I've seen the way you look at him, with those moon eyes begging him to notice you. To which I can only say, in the nicest possible sense… he's a bit of a fixer-upper, isn't he?"

Pyrrha smiled softly. "If I am a sort of princess, then am I not allowed to dream of a prince who'll sweep me off my feet?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You think he's a prince?"

"No, I think he's a nice boy, but with my help… maybe he could be a prince," Pyrrha said.

"Not if you leave," Sunset pointed out. "Or stay. What are we saying?"

"I think of it as staying with you, at Beacon, or else going away," Pyrrha informed her.

"Right, it's good to have that cleared up," Sunset muttered. She paused. Her tail curled upwards. "You know, when I heard you explaining to Jaune what had been said between you and Lady Terri-Belle, I could hardly keep from laughing. I thought it must be some kind of joke."

"It makes sense in Mistral," Pyrrha murmured.

"Then woe unto Mistral," Sunset declared, striding towards her, "that the huntsmen are so few in number that they must add a first-year student to augment their ranks, that the credibility of its rulers is so desiccated that they must borrow the credibility of a girl with a famous name. No offence-"

"None taken."

"-but you're too smart not to realise that this is just ridiculous."

"It's far from ideal, from any perspective," Pyrrha admitted, "but you heard the man ranting in the square, and I suspect he wasn't the only one. There aren't enough huntsmen to defend everywhere, and those that are not defended full vulnerable. You were the one who showed me the news about the grimm."

"If Mistral has need of huntsmen, then graduate the fourth-years early; they won't be missing out on much," Sunset declared.

"None of them have my name," Pyrrha pointed out.

"No, and that's what this is really all about, isn't it?" Sunset asked. "Your name. Your heroic epithets. The only things about you that anyone cares to know. You know what you'll be if you take this offer, don't you?"

Pyrrha nodded glumly. "Not as I was, but worse. To be seen and admired but never known, placed upon an even higher pedestal than I stood on before, not merely a champion in the arena but a… a hero of Mistral, untouchable. It's the last thing I want, but… I don't see how it is to be avoided."

"Easily: you tell her to get stuffed," Sunset said.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully, "how am I supposed to do that?"

"You open your mouth, and then-"

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, cutting her off, "you know what I mean. This is what I claim to want, and Mistral has need of me besides-"

"Mistral has need of a doll named Pyrrha Nikos, it seems to me," Sunset growled.

"Is it not mere selfishness on my part to refuse?" Pyrrha asked, ignoring Sunset's last comment. "Am I not obligated to answer kingdom and destiny alike when they call out to me? Must I not go?"

"No!" Sunset declared firmly. "Not if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything unless you wish it so! Nothing at all! You don't owe this city anything, you don't owe Lady Terri-Belle or the Mistral Council or your mother. Nobody owns you."

"I never suggested that they did, but that doesn't mean I have no obligations to them," Pyrrha countered.

"And I say you have none," Sunset said. "None but to act in accordance with your own will and to secure your own happiness."

"Sunset," Pyrrha said nervously. "With that kind of attitude, you'd… oh."

Sunset frowned. "What do you mean, oh?"

"Just that it explains a great deal," Pyrrha murmured.

"My character was at fault; my creed is not," Sunset insisted proudly, and with a hint of defensive hauteur in her voice. "You said it yourself: you'd rather stay at Beacon."

"I would, but-"

"Then stay!" Sunset cried. "You don't owe your life to Mistral!"

"Not even if Mistral should have need of me?" Pyrrha demanded.

"The team needs you, too," Sunset said. "Jaune needs you, though he is too misguidedly nice to admit it. Do you think he'll make the cut without you to carry him?"

"He's improved so much," Pyrrha observed.

"Thanks to you," Sunset countered. "The brakes will be slammed on that without you around. I don't know the first thing about sword and shield, and neither does Ruby, and who else would give up their time for his benefit the way you do? He'll be lucky to hold his present level and not fall back. He needs you." She paused. "I need you too. I don't want to lose you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "You know that I don't want to lose you either," she said, "but I cannot sit idle in a classroom while darkness rises around my home… not without a better reason than the fact that it is what I want to do."

"You want a better reason?" Sunset demanded. "Okay, since you're determined to ignore your own heart, I'll give you the same reason I gave your-" she stopped, looking away for a moment.

Pyrrha had a good idea what Sunset had been about to say, but one argument was bad enough – and any discussion of her mother might soon be rendered irrelevant anyway – so she ignored it, or affected to.

"I'll give you a good reason," Sunset continued. "This team works well together. We're good. We could be better than good, we could be great. We could be great, and we could do great things if you're just willing to wait and be… be patient. Trust me, I know it's hard; I know the feeling of knowing that your destiny is waiting for you and itching to just sprint for it as fast as you can, to reach out for it. But my impatience cost me my destiny, and you… you could take this glorified PR job with Lady Terri-Belle, or you can stick with us for a few more years, and we can save the world, together, just like we talked about on the roof. The four of us: tip of the spear."

Pyrrha looked up. "Do you really believe that?"

Sunset smirked. "You bet I do."

"And Mistral?"

"Mistral isn't going to fall apart just because you're not around," Sunset snapped derisively. "That's sheer arrogant presumption from someone who affects to be so humble and self-effacing all the time. Mistral will survive; it might involve a little bit of rushing from post to post for the huntsmen, but they'll manage, and people will stop complaining once they realise they're not about to die. They don't need you, not like… not like… not like I do, and you'd better appreciate how hard it was for me to say that!"

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. "It is very much appreciated. All of it is."

Sunset snorted. "Professor Ozpin told me that people don’t come to the huntsman academies to learn how to fight, because - with exceptions - they know how to do that already. They come to the academies to learn how to be huntsmen. And as much as the old man kind of creeps me out a little bit, I think he was onto something there. You’re a great fighter, but you’re not a huntress yet, and while Lady Terri-Belle or her father might be able to bestow the title upon you, their power and influence can’t give you what you're missing. You can walk away and be a spectacular solo fighter and probably rack up an impressive kill count along the way, or you can stick with us and be part of something awesome."

Pyrrha sighed as she turned away and once more approached the glass window. She leaned upon it with one arm and, on that arm, rested her forehead as she stared through her own reflection in the glass and into the garden in which the dark lay as heavy as it seemed to lie on Mistral itself. "It would be wonderful to believe you."

"Then believe me," Sunset said.

"I… I will think about what you've said," Pyrrha promised.

"You do that, and while you're thinking, I'll prove that I'm right… somehow," Sunset declared. "You're mine, Pyrrha Nikos, and I don't mean to let you go."

"I'm touched… and a little concerned," Pyrrha murmured in reply.

Sunset stifled a laugh with one hand. "I'd rather not leave you here to brood; is there any way I can persuade you to come to bed?"

Pyrrha hesitated. "Yes," she said, after a moment, turning back to Sunset. "Yes, I think you can." She took a step forward. "Oh, Sunset?"

"Yeah?"

"Please… don't say anything to Jaune, will you? I'd rather… I suppose you can call me very old-fashioned, but I'd like him to make up his mind and… and make the first move, if he will."

Sunset grinned, "Your secret's safe with me, as bizarre as I find the whole thing."

"Thank you," Pyrrha whispered. "Oh, there is one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Apparently, the Lord Steward is holding a soiree in a few nights’ time," Pyrrha said. "My mother and I were invited, and apparently, she twisted the arm of someone at the palace to get the three of you invited too."

Sunset chuckled knowingly. "Did she now? I see."

"Do you?" Pyrrha asked. "Because I'm afraid I don't. What do you think?"

"I think we're going to a party at the palace," Sunset declared. "Tell Lady Nikos that she is most generous to consider us and that we shall be delighted to attend."

Ozpin and Ironwood (New)

Ozpin and Ironwood

Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza – Cadance to those close to her – stepped lightly into General Ironwood’s spacious, barren office at the top of Atlas Tower. Her pink stilettos tapped lightly upon the dark grey floor as she approached the desk.

The General himself rose to his feet, a slight smile gracing his square features at her approach. That General Ironwood was nearly as cybernetic as he was human was well known amongst those who knew and worked with him – Cadance counted herself fortunate to do both – but in truth, Cadance always thought of the general less as a man forged and more as one hewn, as from rock. Poets were fond of describing beautiful young men as being as if carved from marble by the sculptor’s art, but with his square features, broad shoulders, and solid, powerful build, Cadance had a rather more solid kind of stone in mind. Like Atlas itself, General Ironwood appeared to have been torn out of the earth itself.

And yet there was nothing brutish or earthy about his manner as he walked around his desk and descended the steps that raised him up above the rest of the office. His voice was soft as he said, “Councillor Cadenza, thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“It was my pleasure, General,” Cadance replied. One eyebrow rose as she regarded the pair of office chairs sitting unobtrusively in the corner of the room. “Since when do you have chairs in your office?”

“Since I decided that I possibly shouldn’t keep councillors standing like cadets or junior officers,” General Ironwood replied with good humour. He gestured to the chairs with his white-gloved hand. “Please. Take a seat.”

“Thank you, General,” Cadance said. She would never say this out loud, but Cadance often thought that Ironwood embodied all of the best qualities of the Atlesian military over which he presided: not the smartest, not the nimblest, but faithful, strong, and always dependable. The kind of man who would shelter you in his arms as though you were his own daughter presided over the army that would shelter the world within its armoured embrace.

Cadance herself was a woman whom many were kind enough to call beautiful, with a fair face and long hair, divided into almost equal streaks of purple, pink, and gold that fell down her back and over her shoulders, curling at the tips. Her eyes were a deep, rich purple. She was dressed in a light blue blouse and pink pencil skirt, with a pink jacket over the top of her blouse, and around her neck, she wore a golden necklace, set with a glimmering sapphire in the shape of a heart. It had been a gift from her husband.

She took the seat that General Ironwood offered her, smoothing out her skirt with both hands as the General took the seat opposite her.

Cadance noticed that he was still holding a scroll in his hands. “A report?” she asked, glancing towards it.

General Ironwood looked down at the scroll as if he’d forgotten he was still holding onto it. “Yes,” he said. “The after action report of the Reliable.”

“I see,” Cadance said. “Those men deserve commendations for their actions, but I don’t mind admitting, General, that it concerns me that it was necessary.” The airship route between Atlas and Vale had been a safe one for as long as Cadance could remember, but recently, grimm activity over the ocean had begun to increase; flying grimm had been setting out over the water much further than – so it seemed – they had done before. One airship from Vale had disappeared, and given that its last contact had been a report of a nevermore sighting, it was being presumed lost; another airship had only narrowly avoided the same fate after the Atlesian cruiser Reliable had picked up its distress call, gone to its aid, and driven off the nevermores. “If travel between kingdoms becomes too difficult, then we will all suffer.”

“I understand,” General Ironwood said. “That’s why I’ve detached the Fifth and Seventh Squadrons from the Home Fleet and tasked them to reinforce our patrols on the airship routes to Vale and Mistral respectively. With those additional ships, I’m hoping we can provide enough cover to keep the skyways clear.”

“And if it’s not enough?” Cadance asked.

“Then we may have to discuss convoys,” General Ironwood said darkly. “There simply aren’t enough ships, even if I redeployed the entire Home Fleet, to protect every vessel individually making its way to or from Atlas.”

“Then let’s hope that your extra squadrons are enough,” Cadance said. “If we start talking about convoys, then alarm is just going to spike on both sides of the ocean.”

“Indeed, that’s why I’m holding it as a last resort,” General Ironwood replied.

Cadance nodded. She paused for a moment. “Twilight’s friends are flying out to Vale soon, to pay her a visit – and Rainbow Dash, of course.” She bit her lip. “A part of me wants to counsel them not to go.”

“You said it yourself, Councillor: we need to maintain travel between the kingdoms,” General Ironwood pointed out.

“I know,” Cadance replied, “but you understand my concern.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of what it’s like to send others into the line of fire, even when they matter to you,” General Ironwood said softly. “Have you spoken with Twilight?” he asked, with the air of someone deliberately attempting to change the subject.

“Yes, she calls every couple of weeks or so,” Cadance answered. “I haven’t told her about the visit; the girls want it to be a surprise. She – they – seem to be doing well there.”

“Rainbow’s gamble paid off,” General Ironwood said. “One of them, at least.”

The corners of Cadance’s lips twitched upwards in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “Have you spoken to Rainbow Dash about what happened at the Vale docks?”

“No,” General Ironwood admitted. “Some dressings down are best delivered in person.”

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Cadance urged. “I’m sure she did what she thought was right.”

“People usually do; it doesn’t mean that they don’t make mistakes,” General Ironwood replied.

“True, of course,” Cadance said softly. She crossed her legs, and placed her hands upon her knee. “So, General, what did you actually ask me here to discuss?”

“I invited you here to ask for your support on a forthcoming Council motion,” General Ironwood declared. “As you’re aware, a substantial proportion of our students will be travelling to Vale for the second semester as part of the events surrounding the Vytal Festival.”

“Cultural exchange and symbolic unity,” Cadance murmured. “I think that Shining Armour’s interest in duelling dates back to his semester at Haven.”

“When they go, I plan to lead an expeditionary force to accompany them to Vale and remain there until the conclusion of the festival,” General Ironwood announced. “I need our Council to back me in approaching the Vale Council for their permission to bring my ships and troops into their territory.”

“That might not be so easy after what happened the last time they gave their permission to the presence of an Atlesian ship,” Cadance pointed out.

“I’m aware,” General Ironwood replied. “However, I’m hoping that with bigger issues pressing upon their attention, the Vale Council will be reasonable on the subject.”

“I see,” Cadance murmured. “And you wanted to get my vote in advance of the meeting?”

“I’d like to know I have at least some support walking into that chamber,” General Ironwood said.

“Very reasonable of you,” Cadance replied. “What size of expeditionary force do you have in mind?”

“Two squadrons, the First and Fourth, with full complements of troops and equipment,” Ironwood explained. “Plus my own flagship.”

Cadance’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “You’re taking this from the Home Fleet? How many squadrons would that leave defending Atlas?”

“Four,” Ironwood said, “but Atlas isn’t under attack right now, or even the threat of attack; the Home Fleet is meant to serve as a reserve to draw upon for other duties as much as it is a fleet in being. I’m not leaving Atlas vulnerable because Atlas is not in danger.”

“But Vale is, or you believe it is?” Cadance asked. “This is an unusual step, General.”

“The White Fang in Vale have grown bold,” General Ironwood insisted. “The incident at the docks was on a scale not seen since… since your wedding, Councillor.”

Cadance swallowed. One hand went reflexively to the sapphire heart around her neck. My wedding. Indeed. The happiest night of my life preceded by a day I would much rather forget.

General Ironwood looked apologetic. “I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, Councillor, but it was the last time the White Fang did anything on such a scale. Nor was the attempted theft at the docks an isolated incident. It was only the culmination of a campaign of dust robberies within the city of Vale, robberies which still haven’t completely ceased. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with all of that dust, but I know our students are going to be right in the middle of it when the other shoe drops.”

Twilight. “And you don’t think that the Valish authorities can contain this situation?” Cadance asked.

“I think if they could, they would have done it already,” General Ironwood replied.

It was hard to argue with that, but at the same time, there was something about his plan that was not entirely convincing. “I’m not entirely sure how an Atlesian fleet is going to resolve the situation,” Cadance pointed out. “I hope you’re not proposing to bomb our ally in order to smoke out the White Fang.”

“Of course not, Councillor,” General Ironwood said shortly, and for the first time in their interview, he appeared a little uncomfortable. “But, depending on the intentions of the White Fang, I think it would be wise to have a full range of tactical options at our disposal. And there is the possibility that the emotions engendered by the White Fang will attract grimm to Vale; there are already disturbing reports of grimm concentrations in the more secluded parts of the kingdom.”

“I’m aware of that, General,” Cadance said. She paused. She couldn’t help but feel that there was something General Ironwood wasn’t telling her. A fleet was, to say the least, an asymmetrical match-up against the White Fang, and one that would be of limited use in Vale – although she supposed that the troops carried within those ships might be more useful. Yes, General Ironwood raised some plausible concerns, but he didn’t mention them until he needed some way to answer her.

Or perhaps she was just reading too much into things.

Ultimately, the General talked a great deal of sense. The White Fang were not robbing dust shops for the thrill of larceny, nor were they stockpiling dust merely to drive up Jacques Schnee’s prices. It was unlikely – highly unlikely – that they would try to move it from one kingdom to another; therefore, it was logical to assume that they had something planned in Vale.

Which meant, as General Ironwood had said, that Twilight and Rainbow Dash and all the Atlesian students – not to mention the Atlesians studying at Beacon like Weiss Schnee or arriving in Vale from Haven or Shade Academies – would be at ground zero when whatever happened... happened.

Not to mention all of the tourists who will plan to head to Vale for the tournament. Cadance had planned to be one of them.

To ignore credible intelligence – or at least credible supposition – of an attack and leave all those people, leave the children, at the mercy of events would be an unforgivable dereliction of duty.

“Will you brief the children,” she asked, “about what they’re walking into?”

“They’re not walking into anything,” General Ironwood replied, “and if we do our jobs, they won’t ever realise there was anything amiss.”

“I hope so,” Cadance said. “Very well, General, you’ll have my support when this goes to Council.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Councillor,” General Ironwood said warmly. “I hope that the rest of the councils of Atlas and Vale are as easy to convince.”

As the conference call ended, Ozpin could not restrain himself from putting his head in his hands. There were times, he would confess, if only to himself, when he missed having the authority to just give people orders in the expectation that those orders would be obeyed without question.

Unfortunately, he was still posed thus in his misery when the elevator doors opened and Glynda came in.

"I was going to ask how the meeting went, but that seems a little redundant now," Glynda observed.

Ozpin raised his head with a sigh. "I am coming to the conclusion that when politicians announce they are setting up a task force, they are less interested in results and more in presenting the appearance of action for the public."

"I was under the impression that the First Councillor earnestly desired to tackle these robberies," Glynda replied.

"You wouldn't know it from the way these people I have to deal with behave," Ozpin lamented. "They are all more interested in bureaucracy than action, more interested in safeguarding their own powers and prerogatives than in working together for the good of Vale."

"This era of peace has endured for many years, and many people have grown comfortable within it," Glynda observed. She offered him a wry smile. "You might say that this situation, frustrating though it is, is a testament to your accomplishments."

There was a note of amusement in Ozpin's voice that did not show upon his face. "Is that supposed to comfort me, Glynda?"

"I hoped it might offer a crumb, at least."

"I could do with such," Ozpin admitted. "These tidings of the grimm concern me even more than the actions of the White Fang. Not least because it proves, to my own satisfaction at least, that Qrow was right and the White Fang have entered into her service."

Glynda's face fell; a frown disfigured her features. "What is she planning?" she asked. "If the grimm are massing, why don't they attack?"

"Perhaps they're waiting for something," Ozpin suggested, "or perhaps their intent is not to attack but rather to exercise a sort of vague menace upon which we cannot turn our back." He might have said more, but the holographic display upon his desk sprang to life again at that moment, flashing as it indicated that the First Councillor was trying to reach him.

"I'll give you some privacy," Glynda offered.

"That won't be necessary," Ozpin informed him, although Glynda did stay out of sight as Ozpin pressed a holographic button from the display that appeared over his glass desk.

The face of First Councillor Novo Aris appeared on the screen in front of him. "Ozpin."

"Madame Councillor," Ozpin replied.

"Please tell me that you're making some progress on these robberies," Novo said, with a weary groan in her voice.

"The pace of robberies has slowed down within the city," Ozpin said, "but I am afraid that we are no closer to apprehending Roman Torchwick or the leadership of the White Fang."

Novo sighed. "That is not what I wanted to hear. I appreciate that getting different agencies and jurisdictions to work together is like herding cats, but I had hoped that you would have some secret to getting it done."

"The police presence on the streets has been increased, and guards have been posted at the docks and the commercial sky docks against further robbery attempts," Ozpin explained. "I think that is helping to suppress the activity, but in terms of finding those responsible when they do not wish to be found… I am not a detective, Madame Councillor."

"No, but you can call upon the services of those who are," Novo pointed out. "Are there no leads? What about the source that tipped you off about the docks?"

"Unfortunately, I have heard nothing more from them," Ozpin said, trusting his poker face to give nothing away on that account. "They may fear retribution for what they have told me already."

Novo snorted. "So what you're telling me is that you're nowhere."

"What I'm telling you, Madame Councillor, is that robberies are decreasing in regularity," Ozpin corrected her. "Is that not at least a crumb of good news?"

"I would have preferred not to have appeared to concede the argument on policing," Novo grumbled. "But I'll take it." She sighed. "But if there's nothing else-?"

"Actually, Madame Councillor, there is one more thing," Ozpin interrupted before she could end the call. "I was hoping to discuss with you the worrying reports of grimm activity around some of Vale's smaller and more far-flung communities."

Novo's eyebrow rose. "I've read the reports; they didn't seem that disturbing. As I understand, the grimm are not attacking; they're just lurking out there."

"A distinction that I fear may be lost on some of the frightened people now living with the knowledge that there are grimm skulking just beyond the boundaries of their village," Ozpin chided her. "Nor can we be certain that this happy state of affairs will continue. Whatever is motivating the grimm to hold back at present, I cannot imagine that they will be restrained forever. There will be bloodshed unless something is done."

"If these places feel threatened, they are perfectly at liberty to hire huntsmen to defend them," Novo said.

"Alas, I fear that many of these settlements lack the funds to do so," Ozpin replied. "Madame Councillor, you are justly proud of your economic revolution within the cities, but in the rural regions, I am afraid that many have been left behind. If the Council were to post jobs to go and guard these small towns and villages, paid for by the state-"

"We're in the middle of a crime wave driven by a terrorist organisation, and you want the Council to pay our huntsmen to leave the city and disperse themselves across the countryside?"

"I think that the Council should protect the people," Ozpin said quietly, "even if they happen to live beyond the walls of Vale proper."

Novo stared at him for a moment out of the screen. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "This will not be popular," she said.

"The right decision is not always popular, nor easy," Ozpin declared. "But that does not make it any less right."

"Yes, thank you, Professor," Novo muttered.

Ozpin chuckled. "Forgive me, Madame Councillor; I have spent too long as a teacher, and slipping into lecturing mode comes all too naturally to me. But I genuinely believe that something must be done. If I may trespass upon your domain, as unpopular as the despatch of huntsmen may be, I cannot imagine that your opponents will show any charity or understanding of your plight once villages begin to be slaughtered by the grimm."

"No, of course they won't; they'll rip me to pieces on it," Novo said sharply. She cringed as she realised what she'd just said. "Very well, I'll place your proposal on the Council agenda, and I'll whip to get it through. Speaking of Council agenda, I've just received a request from Atlas which will be debated in our next session. I'll send it over so you can look at it before then."

"Thank you, Madame Councillor," Ozpin said, a little intrigued at what Atlas might request of Vale.

Novo said nothing for a moment. "The White Fang in the city, the grimm beyond the walls. Tell me truthfully, Ozpin: is the Vytal Festival safe to go ahead?"

"If the Vytal Festival were only to be held in days of utter safety and security, it would scarce be worth holding at all," Ozpin replied. "It is in times of increased peril when the bonds between kingdoms forged and represented by the festival are more necessary than ever."

"Very stirring," Novo said dryly, "but not the question that I asked."

"I think, with caution, that there is no reason that the Vytal Festival should not be a great success, reflecting favourably upon Vale in the eyes of the world," Ozpin said.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Novo admitted. "People are becoming concerned, and I'm not immune to it myself."

"Concern is natural," Ozpin assured her, "but, in the present circumstances, not necessary."

"Good. I'll send you the Atlesian request and let you get back to work," Novo said. "Good day, Professor."

"Good day, Madame Councillor," Ozpin said as the screen blinked off.

"Are you sure?" Glynda asked.

Ozpin glanced at her. "About what, Glynda?"

"The Vytal Festival," Glynda said. "About the huntsmen."

"With the regards to the former, it is imperative that the Festival go ahead if at all possible," Ozpin insisted. "To cancel such a high profile event would only spread panic." He rested his elbows on his desk and clasped his hands together. "As for your other point… I am fairly certain that I have just walked, with eyes open, into the trap that she has laid out before me."

"Then why-?"

"Because what else could I have done?" Ozpin asked. "There are lives at stake, innocent lives; I cannot sacrifice them, or even risk them being lost when I have the power to prevent it, for the sake of some nebulous future good. I must do the right thing when it is before me, and if there are future consequences to my actions, then… then I will face them in future." His scroll buzzed. Ozpin picked it up off his desk and examined the document that Councillor Aris had forwarded onto him.

His eyebrows rose.

"Professor Ozpin?" Glynda asked anxiously.

"Oh, James," Ozpin sighed. "What are you thinking?"

Ironwood kept his back straight as he looked at the image of Ozpin in his screen. "Ozpin, I have served you faithfully for years; at some point, you're going to have to start trusting me a little bit." Or at least I wish you would. "I know what I'm doing."

"You're doing what you think is right, I'm sure," Ozpin said congenially. "But-"

"Everything before the 'but' is worthless," Ironwood muttered.

"We are in a time of peace, James," Ozpin insisted.

"With the White Fang on the loose in Vale, travel between kingdoms becoming increasingly fraught, and grimm massing on the outskirts of the kingdom," Ironwood said. "Forgive me, but that doesn't sound particularly peaceful."

"All the more reason not to inflame the situation with a show of force that will just encourage the worst impression of the situation," Ozpin said.

"People have eyes and ears, Oz," Ironwood said. "They can watch a news broadcast, they can read reports, they have to know that Vale is becoming less safe than it was. A strong response will make people feel safer for knowing that something is being done to protect them, and our enemies-"

"You cannot intimidate her with ships or armies or mechanical toys," Ozpin said.

"Maybe not, but I think you'll find the White Fang are a different story altogether," Ironwood replied. "There's a reason their activity in Atlas has reduced to practically nothing."

Ozpin sighed. "I don't want people to look at the size of our defences and wonder what it is that we're preparing to fight."

"If they don't already know the answer to that, then they're too blind to be worth concerning yourself with," Ironwood said sharply. He sighed. "Forgive me, but… I know your views, and I'm sure that you come by them honestly. But my fleets and armies are not the grimm magnet that you paint them as. I have good people, Oz; brave and disciplined and ready to throw their bodies into the breach to close it up if need be. They can be of help, and quite frankly, you insult them by suggesting that the only thing they would accomplish in Vale is spread panic and confusion."

Ozpin was silent for a moment. "And if your forces do alarm the people? If they bring the grimm?"

"Then they will burn in the fire we will rain down on them," Ironwood declared. "There is nothing that will be drawn by our presence that we cannot handle, and I think if you allow this, you'll find that people in Vale are as reassured by the sight of the fleet overhead as they are in Atlas. I'm not proposing to come to invade, but to put my arms around an ally, and people will appreciate the difference." He paused. "You were the one who brought me in, Oz. You were the one who opened my eyes; other people may call this an era of peace, but we're at war; you taught me that."

"A war where the weapons are knowledge, ideology… and manipulation," Ozpin said, sounding more than a little guilty as he listed that last word. "Not ships or armies."

"It won't be knowledge or ideology that kills you, or anyone else for that matter," Ironwood said. "She's coming for you, Oz."

"We can't be sure of that."

"How can you doubt it?" Ironwood demanded. "If what Qrow said is true-"

"Then we will handle it tactfully," Ozpin insisted.

"And how is that working so far?" Ironwood snapped. He shook his head. "I'm sorry; that was uncalled for."

Ozpin did not appear fazed. "Is there nothing I can say that would dissuade you?" he asked.

"I am your servant, but I am also a soldier of Atlas," Ironwood informed him. "I have loyalties to others than just you."

"Meaning that it is the interests of Atlas that would see you bring your ships across the ocean?"

"Meaning that Vale is turning into an almost-literal dust keg, and I'm not going to send my students into the middle of it without support. Oz, can you really deny that something is coming? And do you really expect me to sit back in Atlas and watch it happen, especially with my students at Beacon for the Vytal Festival?" He paused. "It was bad enough with Rainbow Dash caught up in that business at the docks, but knowing that there is more to follow… I have to do this, for their sake if nothing else."

Ozpin chuckled. "You're fond of her, aren't you?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing to like my students."

"I wouldn't say that," Ozpin replied. "But you… to be frank, James, you seem to collect daughters the way that other teachers collect textbooks."

"As if you don't have any favourites," Ironwood responded. "What about Ruby Rose, the girl you let into Beacon two years early?"

The humour faded from Ozpin's face. "Miss Rose… is very skilled, not to mention daring, kind, brave; all the virtues of a huntress are mixed in her."

"And I've never met anyone with more guts and determination than Rainbow Dash," Ironwood replied. "We look for different things in our students, but let's not pretend that there aren't some we find more promising than others."

"I could dispute the fact that Miss Dash is only a favoured student to you, but what would be the point?" Ozpin asked rhetorically. "I can't say I'm thrilled by the way your students behaved at the docks – as I told you at the time – but I can't deny that they behaved in an impeccably Atlesian fashion. Which brings us back to the point of your forces and their presence in Vale."

"Once they got over the shock, I'm sure that no one had a problem with us shooting down terrorists," Ironwood grumbled. "If there was any alarm, it was surely to do with the fact that there were terrorists to be shot down in the first place."

"I would prefer you did not do this," Ozpin urged.

"And I would rather that I didn't have to," Ironwood replied, "but I think it's come to this, even if you don't. I suppose only time will tell which of us is right." He paused. "Do you think your children can win a war, Oz?"

Ozpin did not reply immediately. "I hope they never have to."

"So do I," Ironwood agreed, "but I'm not willing to leave it to hope, and I'm certainly not willing to let them fight a war alone, unsupported. That's just not the Atlesian way. Nobody gets left behind."

"An admirable sentiment, but in this instance…" Ozpin trailed off. "As you say, time will tell. We shall see what the Council has to say about your intent."

"We certainly will," Ironwood agreed.

Ozpin did not usually bother to attend Council meetings in person; as a rule, he video-called in from his office at Beacon, but given that one of the topics on the agenda was something he himself had put there he had decided that it would be courteous to show his face. And so, he had come down to the Palace of Northcote, for many generations the seat of Vale's rubber-stamp legislature and the meeting place for the Council that had replaced the monarchy as the true focal point of power in Vale. The baroque, towering structure was guarded by Yeomen Warders of His Majesty’s Palaces and Fortresses and Members of the Sovereign Bodyguard of the Yeomen Guard Extraordinary, Yeomen for short, retired huntsmen and huntresses in ceremonial dress of red and gold with the royal crest emblazoned upon their chests. One of the yeomen, a former pupil of his, led Ozpin through the ancient palace corridors, where the gargoyles lurked in the shadowy nooks and crannies of the ceiling, into the Council Chamber, where Ozpin found that he was the last to arrive. Guards rather closer to the prime of life than the Yeomen Warders, although still wearing gilded ceremonial armour, stood vigil around the edges of the dimly lit chamber. General Seaspray of the Royal Navy stood erect, hands clasped behind him, in one corner of the room.

First Councillor Aris sat in the centre of the semi-circular table that dominated the Council Chamber, as befitting her status, with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited for him. Upon her right sat Peregrine Winchester, grandfather of young Mister Winchester and Lord Chief Justice, highest law officer in the kingdom; he was an old man with spotted skin, sagging jowls, and thin grey hair that was in steady retreat from the top of his head. Upon the right of the Lord Chief Justice sat Chancellor Leo Aquas, whose task it was to handle the realm’s financials; he was a young-ish man about Glynda’s age, with a long, leonine mane of red hair and a goatee to match.

Councillor of the Interior Aspen Emerald sat upon the left hand of Novo Aris. He was the only faunus to sit upon the council, a deer faunus with majestic antlers sprouting from his forehead to spread out like a tree until they were wider than his shoulders’ width. He was tall, and visibly so even when seated; his eyes were a rather sickly shade of green.

The left hand seat was empty, for it was for Ozpin himself.

"My apologies for my tardiness, Councillors," Ozpin murmured as he walked to his seat, his cane tapping lightly upon the floor. "I had forgotten how bad the traffic can be at this time of day."

"That isn't surprising," muttered Lord Winchester.

"In any case," Novo said, before anyone else could comment, "let us proceed."

The bulk of the meeting was rather tedious and illustrated exactly why Ozpin preferred not to attend these sessions in person. Questions on whether or not there ought to be a freeze on rail fares, although undoubtedly important to a great many people, left him rather cold, though the fact that he never had occasion to use the trains might have had something to do with that. In any case, when he was only visible through a screen, it was easier to get on with some other work – which no one could see him doing – and trust that no one would be paying enough attention to him to realise that he wasn't paying attention. In the chamber, he had to listen, even if he wasn't very interested.

I suppose this must be how some of the students feel.

If they endure it every day, then I daresay I can manage just this once.

He was gratified that his proposal that the Council should pay for jobs to protect the threatened outlying communities, shepherded by the First Councillor, who spoke so eloquently of the need to defend the people of Vale from harm that one might almost have thought it was her idea, sailed through the Council without any opposition. At least, without any formal opposition; Lord Justice Winchester grumbled at leaving Vale undefended – General Seaspray looked a little offended at that, but held his peace – but even he voted with the majority.

And then the other matter of particular interest to Ozpin rose to the forefront of the agenda.

"The request from the Atlesian Council that we allow them to station a force of two battle squadrons and all accompanying forces in Vale until the end of the Vytal Festival," Novo said, reading off the agenda. "I know that we have the Atlesian General Ironwood waiting on the other end of the line, but before we raise him, does anyone have anything they would like to say?"

"I must confess I am concerned about what such a show of force will do to public opinion," Ozpin murmured.

"Some of us are concerned about what forces we will have left once all our huntsmen have decamped to the countryside," muttered Lord Justice Winchester. "But if they are to be replaced by the vaunted Atlesian specialists-"

"Vaunted by whom, Lord Winchester?" Ozpin asked. "I assure you that huntsmen trained at Beacon-"

"Won't be here, will they, Professor?"

"Lord Winchester, you have made your point," Novo said, with a touch of weariness in her voice. "That said, it is a valid point; for all that we have weakened our defences for good reason, we have, nevertheless, weakened our defences; we have the opportunity to make good that deficit with the arrival of our Atlesian friends."

"Plus, at least this time, they're asking for permission rather than just starting shooting over our skies," joked Leo Aquas.

"General Seaspray," Novo said, "as a military man, what is your assessment of the Atlesian forces detailed by General Ironwood in his request?"

General Seaspray was a tall man in his middle years with a shock of blue-green hair and a proud martial bearing. Dressed in the crisp green uniform of a Valish general, with brass buttons polished and gold aiguillettes looping over his shoulder, he looked the very model of a military officer. Unfortunately, Professor Ozpin couldn't recall any instance of him doing any fighting. Nevertheless, he appeared to know what he was talking about as he said, "The reputation of the Atlesian forces precedes them; they are well trained and exceedingly well-equipped, especially by comparison to our own forces."

"The necessity for balancing the budget-" Leo began defensively.

"Is well understood," Novo cut him off. "Please continue, General."

"I think it would take an awful lot to get past them," General Seaspray said.

"What if they decide to get past us?" Aspen demanded. "Can these Atlesians be trusted?"

"I have my doubts about General Ironwood's wisdom, Councillor, but not his integrity," Ozpin declared. "I guarantee this is not an attempt to seize power in Vale."

"Everything the Atlesians do is an attempt to seize power," Aspen declared.

Novo groaned. "Your paranoia about Atlas will be the death of you, Aspen."

"It isn't paranoia when they're really after you," Aspen maintained. "Ever since the Great War-"

"I'm well aware of your views on Atlas, and you are well aware of my views upon… those opinions which you hold," Novo said. "Does anyone object to our hearing General Ironwood?"

Aspen coughed into one hand.

"Anyone else?" Novo asked. "No? Professor Ozpin, do you object to our hearing the general out?"

Ozpin shook his head. "Not at all, Councillor."

"Good," Novo said. "Put General Ironwood on please," she directed the Clerk of Council sat in the corner.

A hologram of General Ironwood burst into life in the centre of the council chamber.

"General Ironwood," Novo said. "Apologies if we have kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Madame Councillor; thank you for agreeing to speak with me," General Ironwood said.

"We have reviewed your request," Novo said. "What reason do you have for wishing to come to Vale?"

"In public, this would be a goodwill visit for the Vytal Festival," General Ironwood said.

"That's a large force for a goodwill visit," Aspen muttered.

"We have a great deal of good will for our friends in Vale," General Ironwood replied with utmost sincerity and seriousness.

"And your real reason?" Leo asked.

"I think it is clear that the White Fang intend to strike a significant blow against the Kingdom of Vale," General Ironwood said. "Not only does this have the potential to impact Atlesian students and citizens at Beacon and Vale for the Vytal Festival, but it is the policy of Atlas to do whatever is necessary to assure the success of liberty and defend our allies across Remnant. I hope that my ships will serve as a deterrent, and I know that, if necessary, they can serve as an effective defence."

"Are you sure of that, General?" Ozpin asked.

Ironwood glanced his way. "Absolutely sure, Professor."

"Do you think that we aren't capable of defending ourselves?" Aspen demanded.

"Councillor, I am a soldier; I speak plainly," Ironwood said. "And plainly, Vale's inability to deal with the White Fang suggests otherwise."

Aspen scowled, but Lord Winchester murmured, "He's got a point."

"You would not, I hope, be expecting Vale to bear any expense of this visit?" Leo asked anxiously.

"No, Councillor; in fact, I guarantee that my troops will pay for everything they consume while there," Ironwood replied.

"Thank you, General; you will have our decision very soon," Novo said.

"Thank you for your time, Councillors," Ironwood said.

The hologram faded.

Aspen ground his teeth. "Cheeky-"

"I will sleep safer knowing that Vale is not undefended," Lord Winchester declared.

"I will sleep less soundly knowing that there are Atlesian ships overhead," Aspen snapped. “We are already thought to be far too dependent upon Atlesian power following that incident at the docks; if we invite more of them in, then we invite further criticism of our own weakness.”

“We’ll invite more than that if we are thought to have endangered Vale unnecessarily out of mere concern for our public image,” Lord Winchester replied.

"Gentlemen, please," Novo said. "Professor Ozpin, have you anything else to say?"

"I have never been a supporter of military power," Ozpin admitted. "I do not believe it calms nerves, quite the opposite. With respect, I need only point to Councillor Emerald and its effects on him."

“Thank you,” said Aspen emphatically.

"Nevertheless, Vale must be defended," Leo said, "and without meaning to insult the Defence Forces or the Navy, without huntsmen…"

"In the best case scenario, they will spend an uneventful few months here in Vale and then go home," Novo said. "In the worst case, we may be glad of their presence. All those in favour of allowing the Atlesians to station their forces in Vale until the end of the Vytal Festival?"

Blue lights flashed in front of Novo, Leo, and Lord Winchester.

"All those against?" Novo asked.

Ozpin pushed a button in front of him. A red light flashed. Another flashed in front of Aspen Emerald.

"Carried by three votes to two," Novo announced. "Put General Ironwood back on please."

The hologram burst into life once more.

"General," Novo said. "The Council has deliberated, the Council has voted, and the Council would be delighted to host your forces in Vale over the coming months."

Ironwood bowed his head. "I look forward to it, Madame Councillor."

The Fountain Courtyard (Rewritten)

The Fountain Courtyard

The herald, a blue toga fringed with gold draped around his body, banged his heavy golden staff down on the floor. He was a broad-chested man, and his voice echoed throughout the spacious courtyard. “Hippolyta, Lady Nikos, her daughter Pyrrha Nikos, and party!”

'And party'? Sunset thought. 'And party'? Would it really have killed you to have tacked on, ‘Miss Sunset Shimmer, Miss Ruby Rose, and Mister Jaune Arc’ at the end there, pal?

You will announce my name one day. It will ring out across this room and all the rooms that I walk into.

For now, however, she had to settle for being part of ‘and party’ as she stood just behind Pyrrha and her mother in the doorway leading into the palace antechamber.

Pyrrha – or her mother; Pyrrha had given Sunset the dress, but Sunset more than half-suspected that Lady Nikos had actually ordered them and left it to her daughter to deliver – had given Sunset a dress to wear for the occasion and lent her the services of one of her maids to help her get ready. Whether it was Pyrrha or her mother who had picked out the dress, Sunset had to admit they had good taste. The bodice was white and hugged Sunset’s figure tightly; as it descended downwards to form the first of three layers of peplum on top of her skirt, it slowly and subtly changed colour until it was green at the hem which hung at the level of her hips. A second layer of peplum, subtly transitioning from a light to a darker shade of green, reached ankle level, while the third fell all the way to the floor. All three layers sat atop a ruffled A-line skirt that was just a little too green to be called turquoise, with a lambda-shaped slit in the overskirts allowing it to show through. The neckline was décolleté and turquoise, with a large emerald – with how wealthy the Nikos family was, it might even be real – set in the centre of the neckline, concealing Sunset’s cleavage from view, while the sleeves were short, translucent, and fell off her shoulders to drape down her swarthy arms. Pyrrha’s maid – Sunset hadn’t asked her name – had styled her hair in a sophisticated updo, her fiery locks rising like a ball of fire up from the back of her head. Sunset had, however, removed the pins that were holding her hair in place at the front and let loose locks descend with seeming artlessness down on either side of her face. She had dug out an old gift from Flash, a necklace of five faux emeralds of green glass hanging from a choker of green silk, and hung them around her neck. It wasn’t much, and it would probably look very cheap amongst the real jewels of the great and good of Mistral, but… but at the same time, she really liked it, even though she almost never got the chance to wear it. She liked it, and it really did go with the outfit. Pyrrha said so, and Sunset hoped she wasn’t lying about it.

Ruby was wearing a red dress with a ballgown skirt and a strapless, shoulderless bodice; over the red – bodice and skirt alike – was a layer of black lace which ruffled as it neared the hem. Ruby had pinned her silver rose brooch to her waist, even as she wore a real rose – a white one – woven into her hair, which had otherwise been altered only in the methods which it had been cleaned and the slightly glossy sheen it had acquired as a result of said cleaning. She was having a little trouble with the long dress, and at the moment, Sunset had one hand upon her partner’s pale arm to keep her from tripping and falling.

Pyrrha wore a gown of vibrant green, matching her eyes; the bodice hugged her figured tightly where it existed at all – there was a triangular slit at the belly just above the wait that exposed her stomach to view, and even more of her back was likewise bared to the world – with a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder sleeves that seemed to embrace her arms so tightly Sunset doubted she could raise them too high. The skirt was mermaid style, displaying Pyrrha’s athletically-toned hips. Around her neck, she wore a necklace of three reasonably large, square emeralds set in glistening diamonds, while another emerald, much larger, formed the centrepiece of a sparkling bracelet on her right wrist. Her circlet, and the emerald drops dangling from it on their chains of gold, maintained its accustomed place gleaming brightly on her brow.

Compared to the three girls, Sunset had to admit that Jaune was rather plainly dressed in an ordinary dark three-piece suit of the Valish style. She hadn’t said anything because, well, he seemed like he was well enough aware of the fact already.

It was a nice suit, she had to admit; it was a better cut than his school uniform, and it actually showed him off a little bit in all the right ways. And his hair had gone from a complete mess to be artfully floppy down the sides, framing his face.

Okay, in the current circumstances, it was just possible, if Sunset squinted, to kind of see what Pyrrha saw in him. Physically, at least.

He’s a nice boy, I suppose. Sometimes, that’s all you want: a nice boy to hold you. He doesn’t have to be the smartest or the strongest; he just needs to be there and to be nice. Someone who won’t make things any more complicated than they already are. Someone who’ll take you as you are and maybe even… love you for it.

But then, I thought Flash was a nice boy too.

Lady Nikos was dressed in a gown of burgundy, with golden scrollwork dancing around the hem; it was a loose garment, that hung off her frame and pooled around her feet, spreading out just a little along the floor. The sleeves were loose and exposed her arms below the elbow, while she had covered her head with a vale of red silk very thinly woven so that it was translucent, which draped across her shoulders and fell down her back. Like her daughter, she wore emeralds around her wrists, but she seemed to have given the best jewellery to Pyrrha, because the stones that glimmered upon her skin seemed decidedly smaller than those which graced her daughter’s beauty.

They had already been ushered through various palace corridors, where ancient tapestries hung from the red and gold walls, mingling with paintings of old battles and far-off heroes, to reach an antechamber which, their party having arrived fashionably late, was already thronged with people. The wealthy and well-born of Mistralian society milled about, the men wearing suits or robes, women wore gowns of many colours while bracelets glimmered around their wrists and diamonds sparkled around their necks. In amongst the throngs of notables, the servants scurried, dressed in the uniformed livery of the palace, bearing trays of silver and gold laden with glasses and canapés. The space was dimly lit, with braziers filled with glowing fire-dust crystals which, by accident or possibly by that same desire to appear antique that seemed to govern the Mistralian aesthetic, failed to produce enough illumination to fully light up the room, just as a burning brazier of coal would have done. In the corner of the great chamber, an orchestra played soft and soothing music which lilted out across the chamber and beyond, for Sunset could see a door at the other end of the room leading to what looked to be an open courtyard, where yet more guests seemed to have congregated.

Because this was a high-class gathering, Pyrrha’s arrival was not greeted with gasps or squeeing or everyone rushing to take selfies. If Canterlot – the actual Canterlot, the seat of Celestia’s governance – had taught Sunset anything, it was that these people were far too proud to admit they were impressed by anyone, not even the Princess Without a Crown. But Sunset could read a room well enough to notice the check in conversation in the antechamber, the way that people glanced their way out of the corners of their eye as if to confirm that this was she.

“Lady Hippolyta!” Lady Nikos was hailed by a tall, broad-shouldered figure, wearing a grey greatcoat over his suit, who approached them from the edges of the assembly. He bowed a little from the waist. “It is so very good to see you again.”

“Leo,” Lady Nikos replied coolly, her expression still and stony. She did not curtsy in return to his bow.

Leo stared down at her for a moment. He appeared lost as to what to do next for all that he had initiated this by approaching her. His eyes flickered away from Lady Nikos to alight on Pyrrha. “And of course, your daughter is as lovely as ever.” With one of his hands, he reached for Pyrrha’s, and she allowed him to take her right hand and raise it to his lips, which he brushed lightly against her knuckles. “A pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

Pyrrha smiled politely as she curtsied to him. “Likewise, Professor.” She gestured to the other three members of Team SAPR. “Allow me to introduce my Beacon teammates: Sunset Shimmer, Ruby Rose, and Jaune Arc. Sunset, Ruby, Jaune, it’s my honour to present to you Professor Leonardo Lionheart, the headmaster of Haven Academy here in Mistral.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Ruby said, putting one hand on her hip and waving the other in a kind of salute.

Jaune managed to more or less execute the bow that Sunset had taught him. He forgot to move his feet, but he did remember what to do with his arms. “An honour to make your acquaintance, Professor Lionheart.”

Professor Lionheart is a small man. The scornful words which Lady Nikos had had for the headmaster of Haven returned to Sunset like a shot as she beheld the man himself. Obviously, she hadn’t been speaking literally – physically speaking, there was nothing small about him – but even at a mere glance, Sunset could see why a person like Lady Nikos might form the impression that he was spiritually small. Professor Lionheart seemed to Sunset a very grey figure, most obviously in his mane-like hair and beard, but it seemed to have spread beyond that to have affected everything about his appearance. He looked like a dead man walking, and although it was not especially warm tonight, he had sweat beading his brow.

It was easy to see why someone like Lady Nikos would despise a man like Professor Lionheart. Sunset wouldn’t be surprised if half of high society held him in such contempt. It might not be fair, but that was the way it was: this world was no place for the meek, and nervousness was a sign for the jackals to move in. It was rather incredible that he’d managed to get the headmaster’s job in the first place; he must be hiding a ferocious talent underneath that unassuming exterior. A bit like Pyrrha, but without the ancestors.

She bowed. “Yes, Professor, this is a great honour.”

“Ah,” Professor Lionheart said. “Yes, uh, always a pleasure to meet huntsmen and huntresses in training, especially students of my old friend Ozpin.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Professor, to meet a huntsman of your skill and experience,” Sunset replied.

“You have a silver tongue, young lady; you might be more suited to politics than to the life of a huntress.” Lionheart laughed nervously. “I suppose you must be enjoying your studies at Beacon, Pyrrha; at least you must be getting along with your teammates rather well to have invited them here to Mistral.”

“Yes, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “I thought they might enjoy the sights of our fair city.”

“Indeed, there are so many,” Professor Lionheart replied jovially. “Still, I don’t mind admitting that I wish I’d been able to snag you for Haven. You would have been a great boost to our chances in the Vytal Festival tournament.”

“What a pity it is that Haven has produced no young warriors who could come close to rivalling my daughter in these last few years,” Lady Nikos declared acidly.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. It was true that Beacon had begun to monopolise victory in the Vytal Festival recently; of the last ten tournaments, eight had been won by Beacon students, with the remaining two victors being Atlesian, but everything she had read seemed to consider that a positive reflection upon Professor Ozpin rather than a negative reflection on his counterparts. More importantly, Sunset was astonished at just how brazenly rude Lady Nikos had just been. There had been no subtle suggestion here: she had straight up insulted Professor Lionheart to his face. That was not how these things were generally done.

Even more surprisingly to Sunset, Professor Lionheart just took it. He flinched. “I, uh, yes, well… Lady Hippolyta…” he cleared his throat. “Well, as I say, it is a great pity, Pyrrha, that you chose Beacon over Haven; you would have been one of the star pupils at our academy without a doubt.”

“'One of'?” Lady Nikos asked.

“But as it happens,” Professor Lionheart continued, “I have found a young lady of great potential who is most anxious to meet you.” He stepped out of the way to reveal that someone had been hiding behind him this entire time, waiting for the dramatic moment of revelation. “Lady Hippolyta, Pyrrha, students, allow me to introduce my most promising huntress-in-training: Miss Cinder Fall.”

“Charmed,” Cinder purred as she stepped forward. She was dressed all in black, her gown descending sharply off her shoulders to reveal a great deal of cleavage even as her arms were enfolded by a pair of long black gloves. A plain black choker was wrapped around her throat. Black swan feathers decorated the shoulders of her dress, but in her hair, she wore white feathers which added a splash of colour to the otherwise monochromatic outfit. Her eyes, as best Sunset could tell, were amber; one of them was hidden behind the fall of her hair. She smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Pyrrha.” Her eye swept over Sunset, Ruby, and Jaune as she chuckled. “Forgive me, a pleasure to meet you all, of course.”

“Of course,” Sunset murmured.

Cinder’s smile widened momentarily. “I hope that we can talk-”

“Later, perhaps,” Lady Nikos said. “For now, I believe that we are blocking the doorway. Leo.”

“Lady Hippolyta.”

“Come, Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said, brushing past Cinder Fall and Professor Lionheart as she led the way in, giving the three of them little choice but to follow her into the shadowy antechamber.

The four teammates followed her for a little while, passing amidst the notables in their gowns and suits and robes, until Lady Nikos was approached by an old man, broad-shouldered, with a long grey beard and hair that, for all that it was held in a braid, was still long enough to descend almost to his waist. He wore robes of green trimmed with purple and wore a diadem upon his brow.

“Lady Nikos,” he said, his voice a deep bass rumble. “I’m so glad that you could join us, and bring your daughter. Lady Pyrrha, the city is made brighter by your presence.”

Pyrrha curtsied. “Thank you, my lord, you flatter me with honour I am not deserving of. Allow me to introduce my-”

“I am sorry, child, but I have many pressing matters to attend to. Lady Nikos, might I have a word with you in private?”

“Of course, my lord,” Lady Nikos said. “Excuse me, Pyrrha, children.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Farewell, my lady.”

They watched as Lady Nikos was drawn away. “Who was that?” Sunset asked Pyrrha.

“That was Lord Diomedes Thrax, the Steward of the Council,” Pyrrha said. “It was his eldest daughter who approached me the other day.”

“Ah, yes, the one who wants to take you away,” Sunset muttered.

“Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully.

“What?” Sunset demanded. “I am allowed to want Pyrrha to stay with us.”

“I want Pyrrha to stay too,” Ruby said, offering Pyrrha a brief smile, “but if Pyrrha wants to go and do something important for Mistral, then… then we should all be supportive of our friend. I’ll miss you, but I’ll wish you luck at the same time.”

Pyrrha blinked rapidly. “I… I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet, Ruby,” she murmured. “That is to say… I haven’t made my final decision. I might still return to Beacon.”

“Is that really true?” Sunset asked.

“Sunset, come on,” Jaune said. “We all have our own opinions about this, but let’s not badger Pyrrha about it, not here, not tonight. Let’s just… let’s all try and enjoy the party, okay?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. “I’m sorry, I just… I didn’t mean to be an ass about this. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said softly. “I understand.”

“I just don’t want to lose you,” Sunset declared.

“I know,” Pyrrha repeated.

“Nobody wants to lose Pyrrha,” Jaune said, “but… like I said, let’s try and enjoy the party.”

“Yes, let's,” Pyrrha agreed as the light from the dust crystals burning in the braziers glimmered upon her circlet and on the diamonds that hung about her neck and wrist. “Come with me; there’s something that I’d like you to see.”

She led them through the crowd, passing between groups discussing politics, trade, and the state of the kingdom, and into the large open courtyard that lay beyond the antechamber. A hundred paper lanterns hung from ropes strewn across the open space, adding their light to the light of the moon and the myriad stars that hung in the night sky above.

Here, there were more attendees, more servants, and more music for those who couldn’t hear the orchestra in the other room, but it was less – or seemed to Sunset to be less, at least – crowded here than it had been in the chamber just beyond the palace doors, although that might have been a function of the greater space.

The floor was made up of a sequence of mosaics, running clockwise across the courtyard floor, depicting… Sunset was not entirely sure what it was depicting, to be honest, except that creatures of grimm and the slaying thereof figured prominently. It seemed that there was a story of some sort being told, but Sunset didn’t know it, and there wasn’t enough information being conveyed to let her grasp where the sequence began or what precisely was being depicted. Pyrrha would almost certainly know, but she had not stopped yet to be asked but carried on, leading Sunset, Jaune, and Ruby into the courtyard towards the fountain that sat in the centre of the space.

The fountain was fashioned out of gleaming marble, with four fish with gaping mouths surrounding a man with spear and shield, clad only in a loincloth, striking a heroic pose set upon the very top. At first, Sunset thought that the fountain had simply been turned off, for no water was leaping from the fishes’ mouths. Then she saw that there was a good reason why the fountain had been turned off.

The water was... the best word that Sunset could find for it was "dead"; black, still, almost crusting over in places. It was so unnatural as to make it hideous to look at.

The fact that such a fountain was still there was baffling enough; the fact that it seemed to be guarded by four armed men, exhibiting the same combination of ancient armour and modern weapons that Sunset had seen in the streets that day, was stranger still

“You… you wanted to show us this?” Jaune asked uncertainly as the guards made way for Pyrrha and her friends to approach.

Pyrrha stopped a few paces away from the dead fountain. She looked down at the black, still water, a melancholy look upon her face. “I know it doesn’t look like much now, but it wasn’t always this way.”

Sunset pursed her lips together as she came to a stop by Pyrrha’s side. Whatever was so special about this fountain, it was clearly in need of more than just a good clean. “What is it?”

“The heart of Mistral,” Pyrrha murmured. “When our earliest ancestors climbed to the top of this mountain, they found a spring that ran so clear, so fresh, so refreshing, and so beautiful that they took it as an omen that this was the place they were meant to build their city. They built the city around it; later, a palace was raised around it and the fountain too.”

Sunset frowned. Clear, fresh, and beautiful were not words she would use to describe what she could see in front of her at this moment, and she wasn’t going to take a drink to see if it was still refreshing.

“There was a time, so the legends say,” Pyrrha continued, “when a drink of the water from this fountain could cure any injury.”

“I… wouldn’t drink that if you asked me to,” Ruby muttered.

“I wouldn’t ask,” Pyrrha murmured sadly.

Jaune frowned. “What happened? How did it get from that to… this?”

“The Emperor laid down his crown at the end of the Great War,” Pyrrha said, “and when he did… the spring ceased to flow, and the water became as you see it now. It is said that the fountain will never flow clear again, nor the water be fit to drink, until an Emperor returns to the throne of Mistral.”

Sunset smirked. “That’s you, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, and her cheeks flushed. “As I’ve said, it is my mother if one wishes to be correct about the line of succession. In any case, that is not the destiny that I desire.”

“Yet perhaps it is your fate regardless,” Sunset said.

“I don’t believe in inescapable fate.”

“If fate exists and it is truly inescapable, then I hope that it believes in us, regardless of our views upon the matter,” Sunset said. She chuckled. “You become Empress, and you can make me your grand vizier or something.”

Pyrrha shook her head slowly. “Now I know that you’re joking.”

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said, “why would anyone still guard a dead fountain?”

“Because they still have hope that one day the waters will flow once more.” It was not Pyrrha who answered, but rather the silky voice of Cinder Fall as she drifted towards them in her black and feathered gown. “Humans, after all, are such hopeful creatures, aren’t we? Hope for something better in the face of misery, hope for life in the face of death, these are the things that sustain us even in the darkest moments as individuals and as a species.” She smiled. “Please, forgive me; I hope that I’m not butting in.”

“No, of course not,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Although I’m not sure that I would agree with you.”

“About hope?” Cinder asked. “Why, what would we do without it? Isn’t hope what drives us on to do, to dare, to strive for more and better than what we are and have?”

“I’m sure you’re right, in general,” Pyrrha said softly, “but in this specific case, I think that the guard has more to do with tradition than hope. I’m not sure anyone is hoping for the return of the emperor.”

“Perhaps they should, even if they don’t,” Cinder replied. “It’s clear to me, even from a single semester of history, that Mistral has gone terribly downhill since the Great War, wouldn’t you agree?”

“True,” Pyrrha allowed, “but that has more to do with the losses of the Great War than with the end of the monarchy, don’t you think?”

“I think it has everything to do with where power lies, who wields it, and who ought to even if they do not,” Cinder declared. “The kings of Mistral, Mantle, and Vacuo knelt before the King of Vale and offered up their crowns to him. He could have become the ruler of the whole world, High King over all nations… but instead, he chose to cast all those crowns, including his own, into the garbage. The rule of the four kingdoms was given over to lesser men. Weak men. Can it be right that the world is divided into four quarters, and each quarter rests in the hands of those unworthy of lordship?”

“No,” Sunset said.

Cinder’s gaze had been affixed on Pyrrha, but now she glanced at Sunset, turning her head a little more towards her. Her smile remained in place. “You agree with me… Sunset, wasn’t it?”

“Sunset Shimmer, yes,” Sunset said, as she folded her arms. “And I agree with you. Power should reside with the best, not merely with the most popular.”

“I’m delighted to hear it, so few people do agree,” Cinder said. “Some people are rather rude in expressing their disagreement.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Jaune muttered.

“Don’t you chafe under this ridiculous system?” Cinder asked. “Why, most councillors don’t even have their aura unlocked. Why should people like us, gifted with immense power and abilities that ordinary men cannot even dream of, bow and scrape before those who are so inferior to us in all respects? Pyrrha, as a team leader, surely you agree with me that the strongest should lead, and those weaker should be content to follow.”

“I am afraid that you’re mistaken; I’m not the leader of my team,” Pyrrha corrected. “Sunset is.”

Cinder was silent for a moment, her one visible eyebrow rising gently as Sunset stared at her and tried to control her rising chagrin.

Don’t get upset; it was just an innocent mistake that anyone could have made. Don’t get upset. Don’t snap. Don’t let her see that she’s upset you at all.

You have achieved a state of calm about the whole thing.

Except that calm was a lot harder to maintain when the person who had said the thing you ought to be calm about was smirking at you. Sunset could not quite stop her ears from flattening down onto the top of her head.

The smile on Cinder’s face suggested that she knew very well how Sunset felt. “I’m sorry, truly; I just naturally assumed that, well, she is Pyrrha Nikos after all.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset said, through teeth that were only slightly gritted.

“So…Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha, Ruby,” Cinder murmured. “I admit, I can’t guess the name.”

“Sapphire,” Sunset said.

“Ah, I see,” Cinder said. “A little bit of a cheat, not pronouncing the P, don’t you think? But then, my team name cheats a little itself.”

“Which is?” Sunset asked.

“Clementine,” Cinder said. “C-L-E-M, and then I’m afraid you just have to imagine the rest of the word.” She grinned. “The L, E, and M went home for the holiday, along with everyone else.”

“So you’re the team leader?”

“Of course,” Cinder replied. “I am the strongest.”

“I’ve always believed,” Sunset said, “that the ideal leader should possess wisdom and strength united in a single form.”

“And do you consider yourself to be both wise and strong?”

Sunset licked her lips. “I try.”

Cinder chuckled. “I may get the chance to see for myself. Pyrrha, there’s a part of me that wishes that I’d had the opportunity to have you on my team, here at Haven. But there’s another part of me that’s glad that you decided to attend Beacon. Our two teams may get the opportunity to face each other across the coliseum. That might be a lot of fun.”

Pyrrha chuckled nervously. “I always appreciate a good match against a worthy opponent, but… I am afraid you might not get that chance after all.”

“Why ever not?” Cinder asked. “Surely, you’re not saying that the great Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl, Champion of Mistral, has no interest in competing in the greatest tournament in Remnant?”

“It would be a pity to miss it,” Pyrrha admitted, “but I have been offered a position here, in Mistral, with the Imperial Guard.”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “A great honour for one so young, but I suppose that it is as expected of your lineage. Still, it will be a great pity. I am sure there are many eager to see you triumph in the coliseum.”

“There are more important things than tournaments,” Ruby said softly.

Cinder glanced down at her. “Perhaps, but if nobody knows how strong you really are… are you really strong at all?”

“Yes,” Ruby said flatly. “You’re as strong as the deeds that you do, not as your reputation.”

Cinder chuckled. “That’s a… very selfless way of looking at it.”

“Our Ruby is a very selfless person,” Sunset said.

“Clearly,” Cinder replied. “Pyrrha, I don’t suppose there’s anything that would change your mind about leaving Beacon? I was looking forward to facing you in battle.”

“You wouldn’t say that once you lost,” Sunset muttered.

Cinder’s smile was dragon-like in its enthusiasm. “I won’t pretend to know my destiny, but I assure you, all of you, that if we do face one another in battle, I won’t be holding back.”

And on that charming note, Cinder turned and drifted away from them into the swirling depths of the party all around.

“I… don’t think I like her,” Ruby said.

“She seemed perfectly fine to me,” Sunset replied.

“Yeahhh,” Jaune said, drawing out the word. “That’s… kind of the problem.”

Sunset looked at him over her shoulder. “What are you getting at?”

“She’s like you… without… um… so anyway,” Jaune stammered. “What now?”

Sunset narrowed his eyes at him. “We should split up,” she declared. “We don’t want to look as though we’re scared or hiding behind Pyrrha.”

“What if we’d rather hide behind Pyrrha?” Jaune asked.

Sunset sighed. “We need to split up. We need to show that we can hold our heads up high in this company.”

“Why?” inquired Ruby.

Because Pyrrha’s mother is watching us, and if we don’t get this right, then it won’t matter if she refuses the Imperial Guard position because Lady Nikos will just browbeat her into transferring to Haven anyway. Not that Sunset had shared that information with anybody else, and to be perfectly honest, it was a little bit late now. “Just trust me, okay,” she urged. “This may not be fun, but it is necessary. So… good luck.”

Ruby didn’t see what the problem would have been with them sticking together. Yes, they might have looked like they were a little nervous, but so what? Ruby was a little nervous. She kept looking around the party for any sign of somebody who looked like they might be a huntsman or huntress that she could talk to, and she couldn’t see anyone anywhere. She couldn’t even see Professor Lionheart. Now, it was possible that she’d already walked past dozens of huntsmen and huntresses and she just didn’t recognise them because, like her, they were all dressed up and – unlike her – didn’t look really, really uncomfortable in these stupid fancy clothes, but she doubted it. Not least because of the news reports which suggested that all the qualified huntsmen and huntresses were out fighting all of the grimm gathering on the outskirts of the villages – and why was anybody holding a party at a time like this? – but also because… well, Ruby didn’t get that vibe from anyone here.

Not that she was in very much position to pay too much attention to anyone; it was taking all her concentration not to trip on the hem of her dress. The only advantage to wearing a skirt that went all the way down to the floor was that she didn’t have to wear lady stilts – she could get away with wearing flat-soled slippers under her dress, and nobody could tell – but that went with the disadvantage that she’d still almost gone flying twice from tripping over her own skirt.

It would have been really embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that absolutely no one cared. No one was paying any notice of her whatsoever. Ruby Rose just wasn’t important enough for anyone in Mistral to take notice of.

At least she wasn’t embarrassing Pyrrha. People would have had to look at her for that.

“Miss… Rose, was it?”

Ruby squeaked in alarm at the voice behind her, almost falling over – stupid long skirt! – as she whirled around, before she realised that it was Professor Lionheart standing over her, looking down upon her with a degree of concern upon his face.

“Uh, yes, Professor,” Ruby said, her voice high and squeaky with surprise. “Ruby Rose, at your service.”

“Of course,” Professor Lionheart said. He hesitated for a moment. “By any chance, are you the daughter of Summer Rose?”

“Uh, yes,” Ruby murmured. “Yes, I am.”

“I see,” Lionheart said softly. “A terrible tragedy. You… have your mother’s eyes.”

“Yes, Professor, I know,” Ruby whispered uncomfortably.

Professor Lionheart cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but you seem a little young to be attending Beacon.”

Ruby looked down at the hem of her dress. She played with her hands in front of her. “I… I’m only fifteen.”

“'Fifteen'? You must be quite the talent. Are you looking forward to the Vytal Festival?”

“Yes,” Ruby said, with more enthusiasm in her voice. “Even if we don’t get to compete, I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“Yes, of course, but why in Remnant wouldn’t you get the opportunity to compete?” Professor Lionheart asked. “With no disrespect intended towards the rest of your team, Pyrrha-”

“Might not be there,” Cinder said, as she stalked out of the crowd to stand by Professor Lionheart’s side. “She has been offered a position as a qualified huntress here in Mistral.”

“A qualified huntress?” Professor Lionheart repeated. “But that’s… who is going to-?”

“The Steward’s daughter, apparently,” Cinder said. “That’s right, isn’t it Ruby?”

“Yes,” Ruby said quietly. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“I… I see,” Professor Lionheart said. “That… is unfortunate. I know a great many people – the same people, unfortunately, who do not greatly rate Haven’s chances – were looking forward to seeing Pyrrha represent Mistral in the Vytal Festival.”

“I was one of them,” Cinder added.

“It’s sad, but… I just hope Pyrrha’s happy, whatever she decides,” said Ruby with slight lament upon her mind.

“That is a very generous sentiment of you, Miss Rose,” Professor Lionheart said.

“Quite,” Cinder murmured. “Professor, if I might have a word with you?”

“Of course, Miss Fall,” Professor Lionheart said. “Please excuse us, Miss Rose.”

Ruby watched them bustle off into the crowd. She turned back in the direction that she’d been going in before – and promptly tripped over the hem of her dress and went flying.

Flying straight towards another girl who happened to be walking by.

Ruby cried out in alarm. The other girl turned, her blue eyes widening as Ruby flew towards her.

And then she disappeared.

Ruby flew through the empty air where she had been a moment ago and landed flat on the courtyard floor, head first. She felt the impact through her aura, even if the latter protected her from any harmful effects.

Of course, it couldn’t protect her dignity.

Hopefully, nobody was paying any more attention to her than they had been a moment earlier.

“Are you okay?”

Ruby looked up. It was the girl that she had almost run into a moment earlier, the one whom she should have run into, standing over her, holding out one hand. She looked to be about Ruby’s age, with a soft face and bright blue eyes, made even bigger by the copious eyeshadow she was wearing around them, matching the streaks of blue that ran through her long, black hair. She was dressed in a little black dress with spaghetti straps, long black leather opera gloves covering most of her arms, and high boots almost up to her thighs. A pearl choker with a sapphire set in the centre of it was clasped about her neck, and around her wrists, she wore pearl and sapphire bracelets, with more sapphires dangling from her ears, glimmering amongst the blackness of her hair.

Ruby gingerly reached up and took her hand. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m okay.” As the other girl helped her to her feet, Ruby asked, “How did you get out of my way so fast?”

“Oh, that? That’s my semblance!” the other girl declared cheerily. “I can turn into a cloud of mist and phase through stuff. Or let people phase through me. Check it out.” She disappeared and then reappeared a moment later behind Ruby. “Pretty cool, huh!”

“Yeah, that is pretty cool,” Ruby agreed.

“I know; I only just discovered it, and I’ve been doing it all the time,” the other girl said as she once more disappeared only to reappear back where she’d been before. “Whoo!”

“Stop doing that!” a voice called from out of the crowd.

“You’re not my mom!” the girl who had helped Ruby up shouted back. She beamed brightly as she held out one hand to Ruby. “Juturna Rutulus, how are you doing?”

Ruby stared at Juturna’s outstretched hand. “Ruby Rose… did you say Rutulus?”

“Yeah,” Juturna said. “Let me guess, you’ve heard of my brother’s company?”

Actually, Ruby remembered Pyrrha mentioning the name of the former Mistralian police commissioner who had been murdered by one of his own officers… but she didn’t want to mention that. It was kind of touching the way that everyone remembered her mom, but at the same time, Ruby didn’t always appreciate the way that everyone kept bringing it up, like Professor Lionheart just had. Sometimes… sometimes, she wished people would just let it alone. So she said, “Yeah, exactly. Um, should I bow or something?”

“Oh, I’m not going to make you do that; you clearly don’t belong here,” Juturna said breezily.

Ruby groaned. “Is it that obvious?”

“Well, you did trip over your own dress,” Juturna informed her. “So, where are you from, and what brings you to the dullest party in history?”

“Uh… my friend’s mother brought us here,” Ruby admitted.

“Was she trying to punish you?” Juturna asked.

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ruby guessed. “I’m not sure what for, though, but… hey, if you think this place is so awful, what are you doing here?”

Juturna rolled her eyes. “My big brother – who would ordinarily never make me go to anything like this, by the way – is out of town on business, and so, my surrogate big sister says that I have to go to this thing with her because she doesn’t want to show up by herself, and apparently I need to-”

“Get out of your shell?” Ruby suggested.

“Yes!” Juturna cried. “Like, I don’t need to get out of my shell; I have the two of them. In fact, I don’t even have a shell; just because I don’t have any other real friends doesn’t mean I have a shell.”

Ruby giggled. “She sounds like my big sister. She was always nagging me to try and make friends… although, I’ve gotta say, once I did… she turned out to be kinda right.”

Juturna shrugged. “Maybe, but come on, who comes to a high society party to make friends? Make connections, maybe, but… hey, do you want to blow this place and go somewhere fun?”

“I don’t know if I-” Ruby began, looking around for her friends.

Juturna grabbed her by the arm. “Oh, come on! It’ll be great! We can go to a nightclub! I hear they’ve got this new thing called Joy and-”

“No.”

Juturna yelped as a figure strode towards her, a stern expression upon her face. She was a fox faunus, with skin even paler than the very pale Ruby Rose, with hair as white as snow – and long enough to fall straight down below her waist to boot – and eyes as red as blood, for the blood her veins seemed the only color in those orbs. Weiss looked as though she had been coloured white; this woman looked as though she had been drained of colour, leaving her pallid from its absence. Her face was painted - a soft pink blush upon her cheeks, a dark red upon her lips, a smoky grey above her eyes - to remedy that; the effect was almost to point out the absence of any colour elsewhere. A pair of vulpine ears emerged from out of her hair, and a fluffy tail swept back and forth as she advanced upon them. She was wearing a blood red qipao with a pattern of white camellias upon it. Her features were gentle, but her expression was stern as she advanced upon them.

“You are not leaving this party,” she declared, “and you are certainly not going to some low club, and you are absolutely not taking any substance you might find there.”

Juturna sighed. “When did you become such a killjoy?”

“Since your brother left in my care what was most precious to him in all the world,” the other girl declared. She glanced at Ruby and bowed her head. “Camilla Volsci, at your service.”

“Ruby Rose, it’s nice to meet you,” Ruby said.

“Indeed,” Camilla said. “Please do not indulge Lady Juturna in any of her bad habits. I have sworn not to let any harm come to her.”

Ruby remembered the other thing that Pyrrha had told her in her story about Juturna’s father: that his ward had gone out and murdered everybody who had had a hand in his death. Camilla didn’t look the type to do that… but then, Pyrrha didn’t exactly look like a tournament champion either. For that matter, Ruby was well aware that she didn’t look like a badass huntress in training. “Don’t worry, I think that we should probably stay at the party. My friends might worry if I left.” She could only imagine how mad Sunset would be if she ran off somewhere, and she didn’t want to imagine how furious Yang would be with Ruby, Sunset, and Pyrrha - and maybe even Jaune, too - if it turned out that she’d done drugs while she was on vacation in Mistral.

“That is a very wise decision, Miss Rose,” Camilla declared. “Juturna, I’m sorry, but Turnus left me a list of people to speak to on his behalf tonight, and I have yet to get through more than half of them.”

“It’s okay,” Juturna assured her. “I’ll just hang out with Ruby for a little bit more.” She put one arm around Ruby’s shoulder.

“Very well,” Camilla said evenly. “Miss Rose.” She turned away.

Ruby glanced at Juturna. “So… your semblance lets your turn invisible and move through walls.”

“Yep.”

“So, couldn’t you just get away any time you wanted?”

“Yeah, technically, but where am I supposed to go all by myself?” Juturna asked. “Hey, do you play video games? I bet you do, you’ve got the look.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ruby replied.

“What kind of games do you play?”

“Mostly fighting games.”

“I’m not a huge fan of fighting games,” Juturna said. “Ooh, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” Ruby answered, surprised by the sudden change of subject.

“Is there a boy you like? Or a girl?”

“Um, kind of?” Ruby murmured.

“Aww, what’s the problem? Do they like somebody else?”

“Maybe,” Ruby said. “I mean, he used to, but now… I don’t know. What does this have to do with videogames?”

“Because I’ve got a load of dating sims that you could use for practice, if you like? Or otome games to work out what your type is.”

“Uh… no thanks,” Ruby said apologetically.

“Well then have you ever tried Warring Tribes?”

“No.”

“You have to try it. You can borrow my scroll,” Juturna said, fishing her scroll out of a little black bag that hung from her shoulder.

“Are you sure it’s okay to play videogames at a high class party?” Ruby asked uncertainly.

Juturna grinned at her. “Ruby, I’m a Rutulus, I can get away with anything.” She pinched Ruby’s cheek with one hand. “And while you’re with me, so can you.”

“Quick!” Juturna yelled from over Ruby’s shoulder. “Quick, put the towers up!”

“But I-”

“Don’t be stingy on the coins, now’s not the time. Towers, troops, go! Quickly, before the red faction gets you!”

“I’m doing it!”

“Faster! Faster!”

Pyrrha watched Ruby and Juturna Rutulus from some distance away. At least somebody was having fun, even if they were doing it in a slightly unconventional manner.

She was incredibly tempted to go over to join them, except that she knew nothing at all about video games and didn’t want to get in the way.

Even if she had known, she probably wouldn’t have wanted to intrude. Ruby looked to be getting on quite well enough without her.

And so, Pyrrha stood alone and watched them from afar.

It was how she spent most of these events, watching from afar. Just as her mother might be watching her now, although Pyrrha couldn’t see her. But, just in case her mother was watching, Pyrrha maintained in her bearing and expression the poise expected of a Nikos and the champion of Mistral.

Occasionally, someone would approach her, to murmur a few words, to offer some expression of good luck on her chances in the Vytal Festival. Pyrrha wondered how disappointed they would all be if – or should she be honest with herself and admit that it was when – her duty kept her home in Mistral instead.

When her duty took her away from her friends.

A sigh escaped from Pyrrha’s lips as she watched Ruby. She had never known that she could feel about anyone the way that she felt about her team. Her friends.

The truth was that, if the situation in Mistral stabilised, then she would return to Beacon like a shot and not look back. She would give anything for the opportunity to spend the next three and a half years as Pyrrha Nikos of Team SAPR, and no amount of honours that could be offered to her would sway her mind.

She would give anything… except her sense of where her duty lay.

Unless Sunset is correct, and my duty lies more in honing my skills and my self at Beacon rather than rushing headlong into a role for which I am, as yet, ill-prepared.

Ah, Sunset; if only I could trust that your advice was not tinged with selfishness I would take it in moments.

“Lady Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha glanced at Camilla Volsci, who had approached her from the left. “Camilla,” she said softly.

Camilla followed Pyrrha’s gaze to where Juturna and Ruby were playing. “Do you know that girl?”

“She’s my teammate, and my friend,” Pyrrha replied.

“Ah,” Camilla murmured. “Then she is of good character?”

“The very best,” Pyrrha declared.

“I am glad to hear it,” Camilla replied. She hesitated. “You brought your teammates here to Mistral?”

“I wanted to show my friends my home,” Pyrrha said.

“That is not always wise,” Camilla muttered.

“As I am beginning to realise,” Pyrrha said, allowing a touch of melancholy to enter her voice.

Camilla frowned, but only for a moment. “Turnus asked me to convey his apologies for not being able to meet you here in person. Duty took him away.”

Pyrrha sighed. “Tell Turnus that he has nothing to apologise for.”

Camilla exhaled loudly. “You do him wrong, Lady Pyrrha. He is a good man. The best man in Mistral.”

“And yet, my affections do not that way tend,” Pyrrha insisted.

“Can you think of any who would make you happier?” Camilla asked. “I cannot.”

I can, if only he could think of me that way. “I do not love him,” Pyrrha said. “There is nothing more to it than that.”

Camilla’s mouth twisted. “You are cruel, to reject a good heart so.”

Then why don’t you marry him? Pyrrha thought unkindly. “It is not my intent to be cruel, but nor… nor can I submit myself to unhappiness. Not in this, at least.”

“I see,” Camilla said coldly. “Forgive me, Lady Pyrrha, but I have… other business to attend to on my lord’s behalf.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Don’t let me detain you.”

Camilla bowed and then departed.

And Pyrrha was left alone once more.

I don’t remember high class parties being this irritating, Sunset thought as she stalked through the antechamber. She had gone back in, but after only a little while there, she longed once more for the fresher air of the courtyard. No one tried to stop her. No one intercepted her. No one had anything to say to her at all.

Why would they? She was just a faunus from beyond the kingdoms by way of Atlas and Vale, born of no family and possessing no wealth. Why would such as these have anything to say to her?

All the same, she was sure that she didn’t remember Canterlot parties being quite this bad. Of course, her circumstances had not been nearly so bad in Canterlot: her parentage was uncertain, but she was not only Princess Celestia’s student but also a ward of court, the princess having raised her after she was abandoned at the gate as an infant filly. That had made ponies eager to seek her favour and to seek her friendship as a way to that same favour and that of the princess. Not that it had done anypony much good; she hadn’t seen a lot of point in friendship even before she realised that none of these ponies had any genuine interest in her. After she reached that conclusion, her interest in making friends had been less than zero. Yet still, she was tolerated, even indulged by those who still believed that they could worm their way into Celestia’s heart through that of Sunset Shimmer.

And then, of course, one had to remember Celestia’s influence upon Equestria. Whatever the faults of Canterlot, however much the stuffiness and arrogance of the nobility might be said to have corrupted the shining city and rendered it less than the ideal that it could and should have been, however much the reality did not match the gleaming light in Sunset’s imagination of that now far-off city, nevertheless, it could not be denied that Celestia had done what she could to make it a gentle and harmonious place.

Power united with wisdom. Sunset found it hard to disagree with Cinder’s assessment that a single ruler possessed of the strength to lead, the wisdom to rule well, and the charisma to be loved by those over whom they ruled, was a much better way to run a land than to divide it between several councils of politicking, ambitious nobodies. Celestia was such a one, the ideal monarch: the prosperity which she had brought to Equestria and the universally high esteem in which she was held were both alike testament to the righteousness of her rule and the benevolence of her influence.

All that influence was lacking from Mistral. So too was any status that Sunset might have possessed. She was nothing here but a hanger-on of Pyrrha Nikos; to be team leader meant less than nothing in this company. She was nought but a faunus, and to a faunus, well… they had nothing to say to her whatsoever.

Nevertheless, Sunset kept her head high and her back straight. She had endured much worse than indifference in Atlas, and in any case, there was a part of her which wondered if Lady Nikos hadn’t brought her here in order to see how she would react to this kind of treatment. Perhaps Pyrrha’s mother thought that she would throw a tantrum about it or start attacking people.

Well, if she thought that, then Sunset Shimmer was going to show her how wrong she was. Just because she might want to do those things – a little – didn’t mean that she was going to. She had enough self-control to get through this and more, and she was going to do it with all of her pride intact.

Especially since it had been her idea to split up in the first place. Ruby and Jaune had been considerably less keen on the idea, but Sunset had… talked them around to her way of thinking. They looked scared, huddled together in a group; they looked as though they were hiding behind Pyrrha. And so, Sunset had insisted that they split up, each going their own separate way, to at least try and mingle with the other guests. They might not be enjoying themselves, but they would – Sunset thought – be showing the kind of attitude that Lady Nikos expected of them. This was a test, and although it might be thought that trying to impress Pyrrha’s mother was a futile exercise in light of the offer that she had received from Terri-Belle Thrax, nevertheless, Sunset had not given up hope yet. If she could not convince Pyrrha to stay, then she would, ultimately, resort to the underhand tactic of enlisting Pyrrha’s mother as her ally to try and… persuade her daughter to change her mind. Sunset was fairly certain that Lady Nikos wanted to see Pyrrha compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.

That was a last resort, not least because Pyrrha would probably have views on Sunset doing something like that, but it was a last resort that Sunset would employ, for Pyrrha’s own good.

Which meant impressing Lady Nikos by keeping her head up high amongst this disdainful company.

“You don’t seem to be particularly enjoying yourself.”

Sunset raised her eyebrows as Cinder Fall approached her from behind one of the pillars that lined the edges of the courtyard. “Miss Fall-”

“Cinder, please,” Cinder urged. “Are we not equals here, as huntresses in training?”

“Very well, Cinder; someone more paranoid than I might think that you were stalking us.”

Cinder chuckled. “Perhaps it’s just that I’m not particularly enjoying myself any more than you, and you’re perhaps the most interesting person here.”

“I’m flattered,” Sunset muttered.

“Don’t be; this is a very boring party,” Cinder said.

The two of them looked at one another for a moment before nearly-identical grins swept across their faces.

“Don’t be too disheartened, Sunset,” Cinder said. “Nobody wants to talk to me either. You shouldn’t let it concern you.”

“I don’t,” Sunset replied.

Cinder’s smile widened momentarily. “As you say; I believe you.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

Cinder sniggered. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I find you easier to read than you might like.”

Sunset folded her arms. “Is that so? And why is that?”

“You’re one of the few people to agree with me on the right of the strong to rule, for a start,” Cinder pointed out. “You remind me of myself. I think that you’re a lot like me, Sunset Shimmer.”

“No, I’m not.”

“No?”

“No,” Sunset repeated. “I’m the original; you’re just a lot like me.”

Cinder snorted. “Very good, Sunset. That’s just what I would have said in your situation.”

“Did you know it was going to be like this before you came?” Sunset asked. “The party, I mean.”

Cinder nodded. “I wanted to come dressed as a grimm, but Professor Lionheart forbade it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone dressing up as a grimm for a party.”

“Think on it,” Cinder urged. “Outside the walls the world grows dark; grimm stalk the land, and the little people on their farms and in their villages tremble in fear. Yet here, feeling themselves safe behind their walls and protected by their wealth and privilege, the elite revel as though nothing at all were amiss. Would it not serve them right if death were to stalk into this company, and lay low the Steward and all his guests.”

“Except for the fact that, you know, we’re his guests too,” Sunset pointed out. “Not to mention my friends.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you or I or them, would we?” Cinder acknowledged with a laugh. “But to answer your question, I suspected it would be like this. I came anyway because I was hoping to see the great Pyrrha Nikos. I’m afraid that turned out to be something of a disappointment.”

“If you wanted to see her fight, then perhaps you shouldn’t have come to a party,” Sunset muttered dryly.

“I’m sure her combat prowess is everything that it’s described,” Cinder said evenly, but not wholly without insincerity. “I was referring to the fact that… well, she’s rather boring, wouldn’t you say?”

“No,” Sunset said, her voice acquiring a touch of the Atlesian winter’s chill about it. “I wouldn’t.”

Cinder’s eyebrow rose. “No?”

“No,” Sunset said again. “You see, I’m the team leader, and that means that I don’t badmouth my team to outsiders, and I don’t let outsiders badmouth my team to me. I thought you would have understood that, since we’re both team leaders and so alike.”

Cinder was still for a moment, and silent. “I have a confession to make.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Cinder admitted. “You see, I actually knew that Pyrrha wasn’t the leader of her team. Everyone knows that Pyrrha isn’t the leader of her team; the papers could barely contain their disappointment about it. And of course, I know that your team was involved in that fight at the docks with the White Fang earlier last semester. I confess that I… I wanted to see how you’d react to the apparent misunderstanding.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment. Cinder seemed disinclined to say any more.

“Well?” Sunset demanded.

Cinder affected to be a picture of innocence. “Well… what?”

“How did I do?” Sunset asked.

Cinder smirked. “You controlled yourself majestically. I’m guessing that you must have had some experience being insulted. You’re from Atlas?”

“I think I could be a faunus from anywhere and have some experience being insulted,” Sunset replied. “But, yes, I am from Atlas.”

Cinder nodded. “What’s it like, being the team leader to someone like Pyrrha Nikos?”

“It’s great,” Sunset said. She smiled sardonically. “I can sit back and let her do all the work for me. I barely have to lift a finger in the field.”

Cinder laughed. “You joke, but doesn’t it bother you that that’s how people think? That you are harnessed to her chariot for her glory? That everything you do will accrue to her advantage and not yours?”

“It did,” Sunset admitted. “At one time.”

“And now?”

“You might have noticed that Ruby looks a little young to be a Beacon student,” Sunset said.

Cinder shrugged. “Some people have a natural youth about them. I, on the other hand, have been told that I look old beyond my years.”

Sunset winced. “You don’t look seventeen, I admit. But in a good way.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t look old,” Sunset assured her. “Just mature. Grown up.”

“Attractive?” Cinder asked with amusement in her voice.

Sunset thought about it for a moment. “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “Why not?”

Cinder put one hand above her heart. “Why thank you, Sunset Shimmer; you certainly know how to make a girl feel special.” She sniggered. “I take it, however, that Ruby isn’t one of those lucky enough to keep young and beautiful.”

“No, she’s actually that young,” Sunset said. “Fifteen years old.”

“'Fifteen'?” Cinder repeated. “And a Beacon student?”

“She’s that good.”

“Gods, you have been unfortunate, haven’t you?”

“I’ve got the best team at Beacon, hands down,” Sunset declared. “In fact, I’ll go even further than that: I’ve got the best team in all four academies, and if I can keep Pyrrha – which I will – then I’ll prove it in the Vytal Festival. Where is my misfortune?”

“The fact that you’ll never get any recognition for what you’ve done?” Cinder suggested.

“Oh, I’ll hold my own,” Sunset said with a smirk. “Depend upon it.”

“You’re very confident for someone trapped on a team with two prodigies.”

“Once you know me better, you’ll realise that I have good reason to be confident,” Sunset replied.

“So confident that you would like to keep Pyrrha on your team in spite of the fact that you would benefit to be rid of her,” Cinder mused. “So confident that you led your team into battle against the White Fang.”

Sunset shifted uncomfortably. “It… we won in the end.”

Cinder smiled. “Oh, of course. You saw an opportunity, you took a risk, and it paid off. I’m just a little curious as to why you leapt into such a struggle feet first. Do you see yourself as some kind of crusader for justice?”

Sunset laughed darkly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I just thought…” she considered for a moment, not wanting to give away Blake’s secret, “that it might be fun.”

“Oh, really?” Cinder asked. Before Sunset could answer, Cinder closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Good evening once more, Lady Nikos.”

Sunset glanced over her shoulder to see Lady Nikos approaching from behind. “My lady; good evening.”

Lady Nikos nodded in acknowledgement of them both. “Excuse us, Miss Fall. My guest and I have matters to discuss.”

Cinder bowed. “Of course, my lady. Sunset, until next time.”

“You don’t know that there’ll be a next time.”

“Oh, I think there will,” Cinder said. “In fact, I’m certain of it.”

She withdrew, walking backwards away from Sunset as the latter turned toward her host.

Lady Nikos looked down upon her, the older woman’s expression stern but at the same time not wholly without sympathy. “I feel as though I should apologise for bringing you here. You have not had the most pleasant time.”

“Without malice or insult, my lady, I ask was it not your intention that it should be so?”

“My intention was to test your conduct in a large gathering,” Lady Nikos said. “If you are to be my daughter’s companions, then you must be able, at the least, to not disgrace her at such gatherings as these.”

“I fear, my lady, that I have disgraced her by my race,” Sunset said coldly.

Lady Nikos closed her eyes for a moment. “And for that oversight, I must seek your pardon. I forgot that not all here share my views upon the faunus.”

“If I may ask, Lady Nikos, what are your views upon the faunus?”

“My view is that there have been as great warriors amongst your race as there have been amongst mine,” Lady Nikos said.

Sunset clasped her arms together behind her back as they began to walk across the courtyard. “Can I ask if I have passed the test, my lady?”

“You have, tentatively,” Lady Nikos said. “Now, do you wish to leave this place?”

Sunset hesitated, wondering if this was another test. “I am content to remain, my lady, if it please you.”

Lady Nikos smiled thinly. “Not everything is a test, Miss Shimmer; you may speak the truth.”

“Then the truth is that I think my teammates would be glad to leave, my lady,” Sunset admitted.

“Then let us find Miss Rose, Mister Arc, and my daughter, and be gone,” Lady Nikos said.

“As you will, my lady,” Sunset said, because nothing would please her better right now than to be gone.

Jaune had no - well, very little - problem admitting that he was socially awkward. His dad had tried to give him advice, and the whole women appreciate confidence thing had worked out really well with Weiss, hadn't it? His mom had tried to give him advice, or at least encouragement, encouragement that had not turned out to be particularly well-founded, he had to say. His sisters had tried to give him advice. None of it had worked out. But that was okay. Well, no, it wasn't okay okay, but he could live with the fact that he wasn't cut out to be the life and soul of the party.

He could certainly live with the fact that he wasn't cut out to be the life and soul of this particular party. After all, he was just Jaune Arc, Beacon student. Why would these people, the rich and the powerful of Mistral, have anything to say to the likes of him? So Jaune felt pretty much resigned to the fact, as he stood in a small and shadowy alcove, that he was pretty much painted onto the wall and was going to be so for the rest of the night. That was fine by him. As long as he could get through the night without making a fool out of Pyrrha by association, then everything would be fine. She'd been so kind to him, from the moment when she'd saved his life in the forest. She’d taken him under her wing, been understanding of his secret and of his unjustified pride towards her... she'd had the patience of winter towards him, and he, well, he couldn't have borne it if he'd repaid her kindness and generosity by making her look bad through association with a loser like him.

If… if he was going to lose her – and it was taking a lot for him to not beg her not to go, because he really didn’t want to lose her – then he was determined that her last memories of him would not be of how he made her look like a fool in front of all her peers.

In the midst of these thoughts, Jaune was surprised, astonished even, when the crowd parted across the courtyard to let him catch sight of Pyrrha standing as alone as he was, looking as awkward as he felt, her head lowered a little and her eyes downcast. Why? He could understand why nobody wanted to bother with him, but she was Pyrrha Nikos for crying out loud, and if that wasn't enough, then her mom seemed to be a total big deal around here.

So why was someone as nice and… and as beautiful as her standing all alone? It was a crime against... well, he wasn't sure what the word he was looking for was, but he was certain that it was a crime against something!

Jaune made his way across the courtyard, twisting between clusters of people lost in conversation, apologising to the servants as he got in their way momentarily, until he was bearing down on Pyrrha. She didn't seem to notice him until he softly spoke her name. "Pyrrha?"

She looked up, shock momentarily in her lovely green eyes to be replaced by recognition. "Jaune! What are you doing here?"

"Well, I saw you all by yourself, and I didn't have anything better to do," Jaune said and instantly regretted it. Great. Just great, you moron. Do you want her to think that you only came over here because you were bored?

Pyrrha looked away from him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've really been very selfish. I hope that you can forgive me."

"'Selfish'?" Jaune asked incredulously. "You?"

"I brought you here," Pyrrha explained. "I asked you to come even though... you're not enjoying yourself, and it's my fault."

"You didn't invite us to this party, your mom did," Jaune said. "I know that you would never do something like this on purpose. You invited us to spend time at your beautiful home in a beautiful city, and that... that means a lot to me, really. And as for what happens here, for tonight... you can't take the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, Pyrrha. You don't need to take the blame for everything." He coughed and cleared his throat and tried to remember what Sunset had told him about speaking in a place like this.

“It might sound awkward now, and it will sound awkward if you get it wrong, but when you get it right, it's like speaking in poetry. It rolls, it has rhythm to it.”

That was all very well except he'd never been very good at poetry. "I mean, uh, forsooth my lady you doth have nothing to worry about, I do declare that it's all-"

"Jaune, stop," Pyrrha said with laughter in her voice.

Jaune grinned sheepishly. "That bad, huh?"

"No," Pyrrha said. She smiled apologetically. "Well, yes, but... you don't have to pretend to be anyone you're not. Not to me." She hesitated. "The fact that you're always yourself is, well, it's one of the things that I admire most about you."

Jaune laughed nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down at his shoes. "I... well, I'm nothing special, I mean... who else would I be?"

Pyrrha didn't reply for a moment. When she spoke, Jaune could hear her voice cracking with anxiety. "I feel as though I spend my whole life pretending to be someone else, wearing masks that hide... Jaune, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"If you take away the mystique of the Invincible Girl," Pyrrha said, "if you take away my victories, my skill... is there anything left? Is Pyrrha Nikos anything more than a shadow?"

"Yes!" Jaune declared emphatically, so emphatically that he almost yelled it out. A few people stared or even glared at him, but at this point, he didn't really care what they thought. He didn't want to embarrass Pyrrha, but right now, it sounded as though Pyrrha needed his help more than she needed him to make a good impression on her behalf. "Pyrrha Nikos is the nicest, most selfless person that I've ever met in my entire life. Pyrrha Nikos is the girl who saw an idiot with dreams that were a couple of sizes too big for him and when everyone else wrote that loser off, you... you took pity on me. More than that, you believed in me. You were the first person to ever believe in me... so now let me believe in you, even if you can't believe in yourself. You're a hell of a lot more than just your trophies, Pyrrha. You've got heart, and it's a big one."

"Jaune, I..." Pyrrha closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them to look directly into his own. "Thank you," she said. "You're the only person I can imagine saying that to me. I'm so glad to have you as a part of my life, and if I haven't told you that before, I'm sorry. That's why I invited you here; I... I wanted to share this part of my life with you, even if it wasn't the best idea. I suppose that I just didn't want to be alone."

Jaune paused, struggling to find an adequate response to a declaration so earnest, so heartfelt. He looked into Pyrrha's eyes. Had he noticed how beautiful her eyes were before? "I... I'm glad to be in your life too, Pyrrha, for… for however long you’ll let me. Although I… I am kinda confused."

"By what?"

"Why someone as great as you was all alone in the middle of the room like this when I came over."

It was the wrong thing to have said; Jaune realised that as soon as he saw some of the happiness drain out of Pyrrha's face. She turned away from him.

"I'm sorry," Jaune said. "I didn't mean to... I just meant..."

"It's alright," Pyrrha said softly.

"No, it's not, not if I've upset you," Jaune said. "I would never do that on purpose... not anymore, anyway. I just... you always seem to be surrounded by fans and here... aren't these your people? I just thought that the guys would be all over you or- or something."

Pyrrha did not turn back. She remained with her back to him, although her face was turned in such a way that he could see her profile. Her long red ponytail, red like fire, hung down her back. When she spoke, her voice was soft, quiet. He had to strain to hear her. "'Always be the best, my child, the bravest, and hold your head up high above all others.'"

Jaune frowned. "I don't understand."

"The Mistraliad," Pyrrha explained. "An ethos that has guided life amongst the highest here for generations."

"But I still don't get it," Jaune replied. "I mean, you are the best, and the bravest person that I know. If anyone's earned the right to hold their head up high, it's you."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha said. "But, although we are all encouraged to seek for greatness, too much greatness is dangerous. We all should rise like flowers towards the sun, but if any one flower grows too high... then all the rest are plunged into shadow. And that is something to be feared... and hated."

"'Hated'?" Jaune repeated in disbelief, because the idea that anyone, anybody at all could hate Pyrrha, it was... it was incredible. It was unbelievable. It was ridiculous. "People hate you because... because you're too good, and it makes them look bad, is that it? That's crazy, and so are they!" Again, his outburst drew accusing glances from around him, but he didn't care. He really didn't care. These people deserved worse than to have to listen to him shout a little bit. They deserved to have him yell at them about how dare they treat Pyrrha this way? But now wasn't the time. Jaune didn't often get a bolt of inspiration from the blue, but he felt as though he had one now. "Let's get out of here."

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked as she turned back towards him.

"Let's go... anywhere, anywhere you want," Jaune said. "Let's get out of this place, away from these people. Or do you really want to stay here, all alone, being treated like this?"

Pyrrha smiled. "I'm not alone, Jaune. You're right here. And I feel... when I'm with you, I feel as though none of the rest matters. So long as you're here I can... thank you, Jaune."

"For what?"

"For seeing me," Pyrrha said. "When no one else did."

"Pyrrha," Jaune whispered.

"Pyrrha!" Lady Nikos' voice cracked like a whip. Jaune turned to see Pyrrha's mom looking very intently at the pair of them. Sunset stood half a step behind and to the right, her expression unreadable; Ruby stood to the left, looking almost confused.

"Mother-" Pyrrha began.

"We're leaving," Lady Nikos declared. Her face was stern, but she said nothing further. Rather, she turned away and began to stalk out, leaving the rest of them no choice but to follow in her wake.

Lady Nikos didn’t say anything to Pyrrha or Jaune – or Sunset or Ruby, for that matter – on the way back home, nor even once they got back to the house. She simply retired to bed without saying a word to anyone.

Jaune looked nervous, but that didn’t stop him walking her to her room.

He walked her to her room! Perhaps Pyrrha was making too much of it – they did normally share a room, she supposed – but all the same it felt… it felt very wonderful.

“I… I hope I didn’t do anything wrong,” Jaune admitted.

“I… I can’t speak for my mother,” Pyrrha admitted, “but as far as I’m concerned, you did nothing wrong. Quite the opposite.”

Jaune seemed relieved to hear it. His smile, at least, looked quite relieved. “That’s… I’m sorry that I didn’t get to take you anywhere.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Pyrrha admitted. “Can you imagine how worried Sunset would have been, searching Mistral for us?”

“I guess,” Jaune conceded. “I just…”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “I had… a wonderful time tonight.”

Jaune blinked in surprise.

“You did?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “with you.” She hesitated, unsure whether she was about to be too forward or not. But impulse seized her, and she leaned forward to give him a peck upon the cheek. “Goodnight, Jaune,” she said, and took a sort of glee in the look of stunned surprise upon his face as she shut the door.

She leaned against said door and let the memory of his face fill her mind as she sighed contentedly.

Author's Note

So at this point I don't mind admitting that there's a hefty dose of Gondor in my conception of Mistral; this mostly down to Pyrrha who tends to remind me a little of Boromir and a lot of Eowyn.

Rewrite Notes: So, the big changes here are early cameos from Juturna and Camilla, which I hope nobody minds too much and don't come across as too self-indulgent, and the cutting off of the chapter before the end, which last bit has been pushed back to the next chapter.

The Interruption of Professor Lionheart (New)

The Interruption of Professor Lionheart

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Jaune asked, a slight touch of nervousness in his voice. He had just gotten up, without even time to shower yet, which might present him with difficulties, depending on who it was who wanted to see him. In the first place, there were some people he was comfortable seeing him in his onesie, and some people – like Pyrrha's mother, for example – he wasn't, and in the second place, he didn't want to greet Pyrrha's mother with morning breath, and… okay, it was mostly just Lady Nikos who would be a problem at his door. Partly because, although she hadn't actually said anything to him since last night, she'd managed to say a lot with a look.

It was one of the things that had kept him awake last night, warring with the other, altogether more pleasant things that had kept him awake last night: the light in a pair of vivid green eyes and the remembered feeling of a pair of lips against his cheek.

"I had a great time with you tonight, Jaune."

"It's Sunset," came the reply from the other side of the door. "You know, it's terrible manners to keep a lady waiting on the other side of the door, in Mistral or anywhere else."

A braver man than Jaune Arc might have asked when Sunset Shimmer became a lady. Since Jaune was not blessed with that particular kind of foolhardy courage, and Sunset had already seen him dressed for bed, he padded across the guest room in his bunny slippers and opened the door.

Sunset was also still in her pyjamas, although she had thrown a plain dark hoodie on over the top. "Morning."

"Good morning," Jaune replied uncertainly. "You're… very early."

"I need a word," Sunset said. "Can I come in?"

"Uh… yeah, sure," Jaune said, retreating inside the guest room to admit Sunset. His room was pretty much the same as hers – it was on the same corridor, on the same floor of the house, the same shape and size – just with slight variations like a different tapestry on the wall. Jaune shut the door behind Sunset as she strode in, walking across the floor in her bare feet, approaching the curtains leading out onto the balcony.

"Last night was something, wasn't it?" she asked.

"I guess," Jaune agreed. "At least Ruby had a good time."

Sunset turned around to look at him. "I think we all had a good time, in the end, in different ways. Ruby and I each made a new friend, and you…" Her eyes narrowed.

Jaune found himself swallowed. "And I… what?"

"That's for you to tell me, isn't it?" Sunset said sharply. "What happened last night?"

Jaune was silent for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure where to start. What had happened last night? Nothing, really, and yet… and yet, at the same time, it felt as though a great deal had happened. He sat down on the bed, feeling the mattress crumple beneath him. "Pyrrha… she was lonely," he said softly.

Sunset folded her arms. "Lonely? The way Pyrrha tells it she's always been lonely."

"Yeah, but I thought that was like a… a metaphor," Jaune said, looking down at his hands in front of him. "I didn't think that she'd actually be all alone in the middle of this party."

"All alone," Sunset repeated. "That doesn't make any sense; where were the hangers on? I know that she struggled to make friends, but she's still Pyrrha Nikos! Just look at the way everyone reacts to her out on the street."

"I know," Jaune replied. "But… I think it must be different out on the street and in the palaces of… well, people like Pyrrha's mom." He looked up to see surprise on Sunset's face. That, in turn, surprised Jaune, because Sunset seemed so worldly and experienced, at least compared to him. He had thought that she might get this, that she might understand what was going on with Pyrrha, but apparently not. "You… it wasn't like that in the palace that you grew up in?"

"Quite the opposite," Sunset answered. "If you were in Pyrrha's position, you were never short of a sycophant. I mean, Pyrrha wouldn't want one if she had one, but at the same time… it surprises me that they weren't hanging around anyway. Hangers on, in my experience, never tell you 'no,' but they rarely take 'no' for an answer either. She was all alone?"

"All alone," Jaune confirmed. "She looked so… I couldn't just leave her that way. Pyrrha… she deserves better than that."

Sunset's expression was hard to read. She looked at him, but her look gave nothing away. "How do you mean?"

"Come on, Sunset, you know what I mean," Jaune said.

"No, I don't," Sunset said calmly. "Not unless you tell me."

Jaune stared up at her in disbelief. Why was Sunset acting this way? "It's… it's Pyrrha!" he cried. "She's so generous and loyal and kind and… she deserves better than she has. The way… the way that she explained it, it's like… did you ever read that copy of that book she brought you?"

"The Mistraliad?"

"Yeah, is there something in there about always being the best?"

Sunset nodded. "It has seemed to me as I read that a great many of the characters care more about being the best – or being seen or perceived to be the best, at least – than they do about actually winning the war in which they are engaged. To the extent that they screw one another over sometimes, to the detriment of their cause, rather than let a rival gain the advantage in glory over them."

"That… that makes sense," Jaune muttered. "The way that Pyrrha put it, they all have to try and be the best but… but if someone actually is the best, like Pyrrha, then-"

"Then everyone around them resents the fact, for they are made small by the comparison," Sunset muttered. She ran one hand through her hair. "A whole city full of people as petty as me."

"Maybe not a city full, but it seems to be most of the…" Jaune trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

"The elite?" Sunset suggested.

"How can they deserve to be called that when they behave that way?" Jaune demanded. "How could anyone bring themselves to hate Pyrrha?"

"I did," Sunset reminded him.

Jaune winced. "Yeah. Right. I, um-"

"No, it's fine, don't worry about it. I'm aware of how stupid I was," Sunset assured him. She paused. "When someone has what you want, then whether or not they actually want it can become irrelevant to how much it fills you with jealousy to see them have it. In fact, it can make things worse, because to their sin of possession is compounded the bonus of ingratitude, of not appreciating that which you want so much but which means nothing to them. The people of this city – the ordinary people – love Pyrrha; their eyes turn towards her like flowers towards the sun. It must eat her fellow notables, the sons and daughters of the great families here, that they don't command the same devotion. But leave that, for now."

"Leave it?" Jaune said.

"There's nothing we can do to change people's minds," Sunset explained. "I'm more interested in what happened between the two of you last night. You saw her alone; you couldn't bear the sight, so you approached her."

"Yeah," Jaune agreed. "She looked so… so sad, you know?"

Sunset sighed dispiritedly. "Pyrrha… she has a lordly melancholy in her."

Jaune wasn't sure what was so lordly about it, but he didn't ask Sunset to explain; he just continued, "I had to go over to her. I had to find out what was going on. That was when she explained it."

Sunset nodded. "And then what?"

"I…" Jaune chuckled nervously. "It sounds kind of stupid now, but… I offered to take her somewhere."

"Where?" Sunset asked.

"I… hadn't thought that far yet," Jaune admitted, "and then her mom showed up, and we came back." He hesitated, unsure of whether he ought to add the last bit.

"What?" Sunset demanded. "What are you hiding?"

Jaune looked down. A smile spread across his face. "She kissed me goodnight," he said, "at the door to her room."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"On the cheek," Jaune added quickly. "But still…"

Jaune felt, rather than saw, Sunset sit down on the bed beside him. "What do you think about Pyrrha?" she asked. "What do you feel about her?"

"Pyrrha… Pyrrha is…" Jaune hesitated, thinking it over and trying to organise his thoughts. "Pyrrha's wonderful," he declared. "She's a… I… I'm honoured to be a part of her life. But she deserves better than me."

"How do you mean?" Sunset asked.

"I mean, come on, look around," Jaune said. "She's a princess. Why does a girl like her waste her time with a guy like me? Why would she?"

Sunset sighed. "You may well ask," she growled, sounding vexed about something. "So what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? Are you going to do anything?" Sunset demanded.

"I'm going to be there for her; does that count?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Give me strength," she muttered. "Listen, Jaune… do you think that, in the course of ordinary circumstances, I would have lowered myself to the level of a guy like Flash Sentry?"

"Uh…" Jaune hesitated. "I hadn't really thought about it," he admitted. "He seems like a decent guy."

"He is so far beneath me, it's not even funny," Sunset declared magisterially. "And yet… we are not matched according to our station or abilities; the power that binds us is more ethereal and capricious by far. But…do as you like, but don't hold back just because you feel less than her. It doesn't work that way." She stood up. "Also, I have very little doubt that Lady Nikos will want to speak to you at some point today, so let's see that bow again."

Jaune leapt to his feet. "Are you sure? You think that she'll want to talk?"

"I'm fairly certain of it," Sunset said.

Jaune felt as though he had been doused in cold water. "What do I say?"

"That depends," Sunset said.

"Depends on what?"

"On whether you intend to do anything," Sunset replied. "Do you want me to help you ask Lady Nikos for permission to date her daughter, or do you want me to help you explain that last night was perfectly innocent?"

"What would be the point of the first one?" Jaune demanded. "Pyrrha's going away… or staying here. The point is that at the end of the vacation, we'll be back at Beacon, and Pyrrha will be here."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Sunset said. "Perhaps not if you said anything about it either."

Jaune frowned. "You want me to tell her not to go?"

"I think that if you asked her to stay with us, she would."

Jaune shook his head. "No, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not my choice," Jaune replied. "It's Pyrrha's, and if I asked her to do something that was against her wishes… she'd only regret it, and she'd be unhappy. I won't do that to her."

"You know that she's better off with us, as part of our team," Sunset said.

"It's still her choice," Jaune insisted.

"So what?" Sunset demanded. "Isn't part of being a friend, let alone anything else, helping your friend to make the right choices?" She clasped her hands together behind her head. "Pyrrha is a great warrior," she said, "and she has many virtues. She's also painfully naïve, overly sensitive, sheltered, and a half dozen other things that mean she shouldn't be allowed out on her own just yet. She needs this team just like the team needs her. And she needs someone to be the head to her good heart."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "Isn't that you?"

"She trusts you more than she trusts me; your words carry more weight," Sunset declared.

"All the more reason for me to be careful what I say to her," Jaune said. "I want Pyrrha to stay with us, more than anything, but… I won't stand in the way of her dreams, and neither should you."

Sunset exhaled through gritted teeth. "I wish I still had your fake transcripts so I could blackmail into doing what I wanted."

"You don't have them any more?"

"No, I burned them in a misplaced attack of conscience," Sunset admitted. "Anyway," she said, "once you decide what you want to say to Lady Nikos, then come to my room, and I'll help you say it."

"Right," Jaune agreed. "Thanks, for the help."

"I don't know why I bother, but you're welcome," Sunset grunted, as she crossed the room once more and walked out of the door. She shut it behind her more firmly than there was a need to.

Jaune stared at the closed door for a moment before his whole body slumped forwards.

"Jaune?"

Jaune jumped with a startled yelp. He turned around to see Ruby coming in through the arch leading onto the balcony, pushing aside the curtains that separated the room from the outside world.

"Ruby!" Jaune gasped. "How did you-?"

"It's not that big of a jump from my balcony to yours," Ruby explained, "and that goes for voices too… without a window, they carry a little."

"Oh," Jaune said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you; it's just that Sunset-"

"Jaune," Ruby said, cutting him off. She pressed her fingers together, looking at them instead of at him. In her pyjamas, she looked even smaller than usual, short and slight and delicate. "Jaune," she repeated, "do you like Pyrrha?"

Jaune stared down at her. A part of him wondered why she was asking him this… a part of him thought that he might already know. "Ruby-"

"Do you?" she asked again. "Do you like Pyrrha?"

"Yes," he admitted, as much to himself as to Ruby. He'd been afraid to say it, to admit, to… to make it real, if that made any sense. But he did. He liked Pyrrha. He liked her a whole lot. She was… she was everything he could have desired, in a girl, in a partner, in… in every way. Admission made his voice hoarse. "But it doesn't matter," he added. "Because she would never-"

"Stop doing that!" Ruby shouted. "I asked you not to talk about yourself like that!" She took a deep breath. "You're not some loser, Jaune. You're not worthless, you're not… you're cute and sweet and kind and brave and, and you're always there for the people you care about. You're even there for people you don't know at all, like me on my first day at Beacon. You saved my life. You… I think you're pretty amazing Jaune, and if…" Ruby trailed off. "I think you're amazing."

Her head was bowed. Her hands were clasped nervously together in front of her. Jaune knelt and reached out to her, tucking his fingers underneath her chin and tilting it up so that she was looking at him. There were tears beginning to fall in her silver eyes, and they pricked his conscience like daggers. "I… I think you're pretty amazing too, Ruby. You're my friend, and you're important to me, and I don't know what I'd do without you, but… I just-"

"It's okay," Ruby whispered. "You don't have to say it." She smiled. "And I guess Pyrrha is kind of awesome," she admitted.

"Yeah," Jaune muttered. "And she'll be gone soon."

"There are scrolls," Ruby suggested. "You could call, or message. You could see each other on vacations. But if you like her, then… then go get her, okay?"

"Ruby," Jaune murmured, wondering how in Remnant he had managed to be so lucky in the people that he had fallen in with. How had he managed to be so blessed? He pulled Ruby into an embrace. "Thank you… and I'm sorry."

Ruby leapt the short – for a huntress – distance between the two balconies and trudged back into her room.

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

There was a loud crack and a flash of green light as Sunset appeared in the room, eliciting a gasp of surprise from Ruby.

"Are you okay?" Sunset asked.

Ruby took a deep breath. "Sunset? What are you-?"

"You know what you said about the noise carrying? Also applies to doors," Sunset pointed out.

"Right," Ruby said, softly and a little dispiritedly. "So… you heard… everything?"

Sunset nodded. She walked over to Ruby's bed and sat down upon it. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Ruby said quickly.

Sunset sighed. "Ruby… take off the mask."

Ruby blinked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about you don't have to be sweet Ruby Rose, cheerful Ruby Rose, smiling Ruby Rose all the time," Sunset said. "Not with me. I know that some of this stuff can hurt. Celestia knows I know how much it can hurt." She paused. "You were sweet on him, huh?"

Ruby nodded glumly.

"I didn't realise," Sunset murmured. "I… I won't pretend to understand why, but… I'm sorry that it turned out like this."

"It's…" Ruby began. "It's…" she stopped. She couldn't say it was okay because… because it didn't feel okay. Maybe it would. Maybe it would feel okay quickly. Maybe she'd forget all about this soon. But right now, after having just come from Jaune's room, she didn't feel okay. She had thought that they were… that they could be… but he preferred Pyrrha, just like he had preferred Weiss. Of course he preferred Pyrrha to her, of course he had preferred Weiss to her. They were beautiful and sophisticated and grown up and… and everything Ruby Rose wasn't.

Her eyes began to water.

Ruby felt Sunset's arms close around her. She felt her partner hold her close as Ruby rested her head on Sunset's shoulder.

"Oh, Ruby," Sunset whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you so soon, I really am."

"Sunset?" Ruby said softly.

"Yeah?"

"You won't tell Pyrrha about this, will you?" Ruby asked. "It's not her fault, and I don't want this to spoil everything."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "You put me to shame," she said, speaking very softly. "I couldn't be this magnanimous in your position. I wasn't."

"I just want this to be a good time," Ruby murmured. "Especially if this is the last time we have together."

Jaune threw on his clothes and left the room to go and join Pyrrha for their training session. However, as soon as he actually left the guest room, he was accosted by one of the maids who served the Nikos household, who seemed to have been waiting for him outside the door.

She glared, stern-faced. "Lady Nikos would like a word with you, at once," she declared.

"Uh, okay," Jaune said. He wished that he'd been able to take a shower first – or maybe put on a different outfit – but it seemed as though he wasn't going to get the chance to do either of those things because the maid immediately turned and began to walk away. Jaune got the sense that he ought to follow her, and so, he hurried to catch up.

"So," he said, nervousness evident in his voice, "am I in trouble?"

"That's hardly my place to say," the maid declared, although her tone seemed to suggest that she certainly wished he were in trouble.

"Have I done something wrong?" Jaune asked.

The maid snorted out of her nostrils. "That is also not my place to say, Mister Arc."

Jaune got the distinct impression that she didn't like him very much; he also got the impression that there wasn't much point in trying to convince her that she'd gotten the wrong idea about anything. He ought to focus his energy on coming up with some way to mollify Lady Nikos. And without Sunset's help to prepare for this encounter.

He was not looking forward to this. Pyrrha's mother had already looked at him like he was garbage; how much worse would she perceive him now?

This was going to be terrible, wasn't it?

The maid brought Jaune to the door of Lady Nikos' study, which she opened for him. "Jaune Arc to see you, my lady."

Lady Nikos was sat behind the desk, reading something upon a larger than usual scroll. She was wearing a pair of reading glasses. "Thank you, Iris," she said. "That will be all. Come in, Mister Arc."

Jaune swallowed as he walked through the door. The study was a little smaller than the guest rooms – even discounting the en suite bathrooms there – and the walls were varnished wooden boards, with paintings of previous members of the Nikos family seeming to glare at him as he walked towards Lady Nikos' desk.

There was a sword sitting in front of her, and Jaune couldn't quite tear his eyes away from it.

Jaune bowed. "You wished to see me, my lady?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Lady Nikos took off her reading glasses and put them away in a case. A case which she shut with an audible snap. "Mister Arc," she said. She did not offer him a seat, although there was an empty one right in front of the desk. "Tell me about last night."

Jaune's throat and lips alike felt very dry, even as his armpits felt very damp. "I… I saw Pyrrha all alone. I thought… I thought that she could use a friend."

Lady Nikos glared at him. It was incredible how she could have the exact same eyes as Pyrrha, but at the same time so different: Pyrrha's eyes were so soft and so beautiful; her mother's eyes were hard, and sharp, and piercing. "A friend?" she repeated.

"Someone," Jaune said, his chest rising and falling, "someone to be there for her. Someone to care about her."

Lady Nikos' mouth twisted with distaste. "Choose your next words with great care, Mister Arc."

Jaune's eyes were wide. He felt as though he were on a train barrelling downhill with no brakes. "My lady," he said, trying to keep – or make – his voice calm, "do you realise that Pyrrha is hated for what she is?"

"Hatred is a strong word, Mister Arc; I would say 'resented,'" Lady Nikos replied, her tone becoming a little less irritated without in any way softening.

Jaune gasped. "You knew?"

"This city has been my home all my life, Mister Arc, I am well versed in the manners and attitudes of my own class in my own city," Lady Nikos declared. "I have been envied in my time, and I have been envious of others. It has been my aim that Pyrrha should be the envy of all and have no cause to envy others. And see the great fruit of my labours: my daughter is the pride of Mistral, the glory of our kingdom reborn, and when she triumphs in the Vytal Festival, then all others will be eclipsed by her in prestige and the love of the commons."

"If she competes in the Vytal Festival," Jaune muttered.

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "And what, precisely, do you mean by that, Mister Arc?"

"Uh," Jaune hesitated. "Did Pyrrha not tell you, my lady?"

"Tell me what?"

"I'm not sure that it's my place to-"

"On the contrary, Mister Arc, it is not your place to refuse me in my own home," Lady Nikos said. "I am your host, you are my guest, and you will explain yourself to me, or you will find yourself somewhere to stay while you look for an airship home to Vale."

"Pyrrha… Pyrrha has been offered a position here in Mistral, with the Imperial Guard," Jaune confessed. I'm sorry, Pyrrha, but your mom is scary. "Lady Terri-Belle Thrax offered it to her. She's thinking of taking it. It would mean that she would be made a huntress and would stay here in Mistral instead of returning to Beacon."

Lady Nikos scowled thunderously. "We will see about that," she growled. She took a deep breath and seemed to be making an effort to control herself. "Thank you, Mister Arc, for telling me this news. Now, to return to the question of last night, when I came upon you both, it seemed as though something was on the verge of occurring."

"Um, not really," Jaune replied. "We were just about to leave the party-"

"And go where?"

"We… weren't sure yet."

"Why?" Lady Nikos demanded.

"Because… because Pyrrha wasn't happy there, at the party," Jaune said. "I wanted to take her somewhere she'd be more comfortable."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "You would say that you care about Pyrrha, Mister Arc?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jaune said. "I mean, yes, my lady. I care about her very much."

"I am sure that your actions seemed very kind to you, even noble, according to your Valish fashion," Lady Nikos said, "but you are not in Vale, but Mistral, and in spite of what instruction you have received – from Miss Shimmer, I presume – you do not know our ways. Just as I hope you did not know that Pyrrha is engaged to be married."

Jaune made a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. "Pyrrha… Pyrrha's engaged? She never mentioned that."

"I cannot speak to Pyrrha's reasons for keeping silent, but the fact of the matter is she is engaged, to a wealthy prince of one of Mistral's oldest families, third in antique dignity only behind the houses of Thrax and Nikos and richer, I may say, than my own family. They will be married… at some point after Pyrrha graduates from Beacon."

"Is he a good man, my lady?" Jaune asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You've told me that he's a rich man, and from a family like yours, but is he a good man?" Jaune repeated. "Is he a kind man?"

"He is the best man in all Mistral, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos declared. "Unfortunately, he could not be at last night's event, but if he had, I have no doubt he would have comforted Pyrrha in her loneliness. Just as I am sure that you have no intent to expose Pyrrha to scandal with your conduct."

"Of course not," Jaune said. "I would never do anything to hurt Pyrrha."

"I am glad to hear it, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos said. "I do not blame you for your foreign impulses. I merely ask that you bear a few facts in mind in future."

"I… of course, my lady."

"That will be all, Mister Arc."

Jaune bowed again. As he left the study, he felt… he wasn't really sure what he felt. He supposed that he ought to feel something. Hurt? Disappointed? But what grounds did he have to feel either of those things? He and Pyrrha were still exactly what they had been before: partners and friends. She hadn't told him she was engaged, but then, she wasn't obliged to share every single detail of her life with him, nor he with her; she hadn't promised him anything… The memory of that kiss, and the look in her eyes as she bade him goodnight, flashed into Jaune's mind as she shut the study door. But that had been just a kiss on the cheek, a goodnight kiss, a thank you for being there for her, for being a supportive friend. If he had read anything into it, then… then that was his mistake, not Pyrrha's.

He had told Sunset that he was going to be there for Pyrrha, and an Arc never went back on his word.

And so, he went back to his room, grabbed Crocea Mors, and headed down to the dojo to join Pyrrha for their session.

She was waiting for him there and greeted him with a smile that was nothing less than radiant. "Good morning, Jaune. Are you ready?"

If he might not get to see that smile again after this vacation, then he wasn't about to ruin it by demanding to know why she hadn't told him she was engaged or anything like that. She had given him so much already; he had no right to ask for any more.

And honestly? She's kind of out of my league.

I just hope she's happy with this guy, whoever he is.

"I'm ready," he said, and drew his sword.

The next day passed oddly, as far as Sunset was concerned; mostly because of how little oddness there was.

She would have expected far more drama out of this situation. She would have expected some drama out of this situation. And yet, as Pyrrha showed them around the Imperial Gardens, the largest and most splendid public park in all of Mistral, you could have been forgiven for thinking that Ruby hadn't just confessed her feelings to Jaune only to get shot down, or that Jaune hadn't just discovered his feelings for Pyrrha. There was no trace of resentment, there wasn't even any awkwardness, unless – like Sunset – you thought it was a little awkward how gosh-darn nice everybody was being.

Pyrrha was happy. She might even have been happier than Sunset had ever seen her before. At times, she even started humming to herself as she led them between the flower beds where colourful chrysanthemums grew or showed them the ponds where the koi carp swam. Jaune, too, looked happy, but there was nothing about the way they interacted to indicate – to Sunset, at least – that they were dating now. They didn't kiss; they didn't even hold hands. And Ruby… Ruby had put her mask back on; she was as happy as if she'd just gotten a new puppy to take care of.

It was a good day. The gardens were quite lovely, Sunset had to admit; once more, she was reminded of home and of the gardens that lay around Celestia's palace. The flower beds were a riot of colour, the trees were laden with blossoms that looked about to fall, and in the garden dwelt many birds of exotic colour that sang melodically amidst the trees and bushes. It was a beautiful garden in the midst of what Sunset had found after a few days here to be a city that was as beautiful up close as it was on the aerial approach. Up close, a few of the imperfections might be more visible, but overall, Sunset had no qualms about saying that she preferred this place to Vale or Atlas, and not just because it reminded her of home.

The air was cleaner here. It did not stick in her nostrils as it sometimes did elsewhere.

If she had to choose a place to live, she would probably choose Mistral. It was definitely something to think about after she graduated.

Yes, it was a good day: the sights were beautiful, the sweets were delicious, the sun was bright, the weather was fine… Sunset just wished that everyone would stop being so incredibly, disconcertingly nice for a moment; it wasn't right. She hadn't been able to so much as look at Flash for a week after he broke her heart, and yet with Ruby, it was as though nothing had happened.

How is it that all of these people are so… so… so nice?

They returned to the Nikos house shortly before darkness fell. Lady Nikos joined them for dinner but said very little, even to Pyrrha. Nobody had much to say to her either, and the meal passed in, to a great extent, silence. Dessert was almost concluded when a maid scurried into the ornately decorated dining hall.

"Begging your pardon, m'lady, but Professor Lionheart is at the gate. Says that he must speak with you and Lady Pyrrha. Says it's very urgent."

Lady Nikos snorted. "Very well, show him in. Pyrrha, attend me."

Forgotten as Lady Nikos rose from the table and swept Pyrrha up with her, Sunset got up herself and motioned for Jaune and Ruby to do the same. They followed Lady Nikos and Pyrrha, and if either of the two noticed the other Sapphires trailing behind, neither of them said anything about it. If Professor Lionheart wanted a private meeting, then he would no doubt say so.

As it turned out, he did not say so. In fact, as Lady Nikos and her guests met him in the hall, he immediately began to speak. "Lady Hippolyta, thank you for seeing me," he said, putting one hand upon his heart and gesturing imploringly with the other. "This is a terrible business, and terribly urgent besides."

"What business, Leo?" Lady Nikos demanded. "What is this about?"

"A grimm, in the mountains to the east," Professor Lionheart declared. "Several shepherds and their families have been killed, cottages destroyed, herds scattered."

"A solitary grimm, so close to the city?" Pyrrha asked. "Are you sure there aren't more of them?"

"I pray not," Professor Lionheart declared. "Nothing is certain, but it seems incredible that a pack or worse could approach so near to Mistral without being spotted before now."

"It seems a little strange that even one could get so close," Jaune muttered.

Professor Lionheart ignored him, if he even heard what Jaune had just said. "I am sure you can understand that the Steward and the Council wish this dealt with as a matter of urgency, and so, Pyrrha, I ask you on behalf of Mistral: will you hunt down this creature and bring its depredations to an end?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose so high they almost disappeared under her hair. Sure, Pyrrha was good - great even - but in all of Mistral, there wasn't one pro-huntsman they could tap to hunt down one single grimm? She knew that there were a lot of demands upon them at present, but really, not a one?"

Sunset kept silent, but Lady Nikos proved more than willing to air the question that Sunset had been content to think. "My daughter is a student, here to rest," she said. "Where are your huntsmen and your huntresses? Where is the Imperial Guard?"

"Scattered throughout the length and breadth of our territory," Professor Lionheart replied. "With so many of these bands of grimm lurking throughout the land, menacing the towns and villages, the huntsmen of Mistral have been scattered throughout Anima to battle them. Even the Imperial Guard have been pressed into service. Lady Terri-Belle has not yet returned from Higanbana, Ladies Shining Light and Blonn Di are still at Ajisai, and Lady Swift Foot is but a child. The teachers and students have gone home for the vacation. In all of the city, there is not one huntsmen I can call upon."

"And so, because between you and Lady Terri-Belle the defences of Mistral have been sorely mismanaged, you must come into my house and beseech my daughter to rescue Mistral and yourself from the consequences of your folly?" Lady Nikos demanded.

"I will do it," Pyrrha said, her voice soft and strangely calm. "Professor, you may tell the Council and the Lord Steward that I accept their charge. For the good of Mistral, I will undertake this hunt."

Professor Lionheart breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Pyrrha. I'm certain that the Champion of Mistral, our pride reborn, will have no difficulty in ridding us of this beast. I would go myself, but-"

"But you are a coward; I know that well without reminding," Lady Nikos said acidly. "And yet it seems your incompetence plumbs depths that I had not conceived of if you have left us so exposed that my daughter alone is all that stands between our city and the darkness."

"Not alone," Sunset said. "She will not go alone."

"Indeed," Professor Lionheart. "Young Cinder, the only student remaining at Haven, has volunteered to join her."

Sunset frowned, wondering if she hadn't made herself entirely clear. I didn't want to be so dramatic I obscured the point. "I was actually talking about me, Ruby, and Jaune going with Pyrrha," she glanced at Jaune, and then at Ruby. "You two got that, right? You understood that I meant the three of us were going to go with Pyrrha."

"Yeah, I got it," Jaune said with a nod. "I mean, it's not as if we were just going to sit around and wait for Pyrrha to come back, right?"

"Even if we're on vacation, we're still huntsmen," Ruby said. "We're with you all the way, Pyrrha."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said warmly. "I'm sorry to have to turn this into a working vacation, but… I will be glad to have you by my side."

"Don't worry, Professor," Ruby said. "We've got this together."

"I am delighted to hear it," Professor Lionheart declared. "Nevertheless, I would commend Miss Fall to you both; she is a most skilled young huntress, and an extra hand will do no harm. You may even have need of a fifth if the grimm turns out to be particularly dangerous."

"I would not want to put Mistral in danger by being too proud to accept aid when it was offered," Pyrrha said. "Sunset, what do you think?"

"This is your city in danger," Sunset said. "If it's fine by you, it's fine by us. The more the merrier, right?"

"And I, too, shall go with you," Lady Nikos declared.

"Mother?"

"It has been too long since I saw you fight," Lady Nikos said. "Your companions, I have not seen fight at all, a lack that I am offered the opportunity to correct."

"Lady Hippolyta-" Professor Lionheart began.

"Will it be said that we of Mistral refused to raise arms in defence of our own city and our land?" Lady Nikos demanded. "That we left our defence wholly in the hands of children, and outsider children what is more? I have made my decision, and neither you nor the Lord Steward himself could persuade me otherwise." She fell silent, if only for a moment, before she looked at Sunset. "Miss Shimmer, I believe it is for you to give the commands."

"Indeed, my lady," Sunset said, bowing her head out of gratitude that Lady Nikos had not tried to usurp first place away from her. "Professor, can you tell Cinder to meet us here ten minutes before first light and have an airship standing by for us then?"

"I will see it done, Miss Shimmer," Professor Lionheart promised.

"Thank you, Professor," Sunset said. "I want everyone in the dojo now for a weapons check. Once that's completed, then we should all get some rest. We leave at dawn."

The Hunt (Rewritten)

The Hunt

The night was dark, and the moon was high, but Sunset lingered in the dojo.

Sol Invictus was in her hands, the oiled wooden stock smooth upon her palms. Occasionally, her hand would slip back, and her thumb would brush against the sun of her cutie mark that she had carved into the wood and painted before the varnish went on.

Sunset’s boots twisted upon the dojo floor, her feet squeaking as she turned this way and that, jabbing, striking with the butt, fighting with shadows. She fought with the butt, she fought with the bayonet, she fought with both ends of the rifle and the middle, trying to force her body to move faster, be lither, and respond more readily.

She should have been resting. She should have obeyed her own orders. She should have taken her own advice. But this wasn’t like Jaune. She wasn’t wearing herself out night after night. This was just a one-time thing, no different than cramming for a test.

Study before the test, sleep after. That was how you got the grades.

And this was a test. It was a test with stakes, but a test nonetheless. Lady Nikos’ test. Her test that Team SAPR was worthy of Pyrrha.

And Sunset did not mean to fail.

Not again.

She brought her rifle down upon the head of an imaginary grimm. She would prove herself worthy of this team; she would prove to Pyrrha that they were stronger together than Pyrrha was alone. She would keep the team together.

She would win.

Professor Lionheart had clearly passed on Sunset's instructions to Cinder, because she was waiting for them outside the house when the party of five – the members of Team SAPR and Lady Nikos – emerged from the gate the next morning.

"Good morning, my lady," Cinder said, as she bowed to Lady Nikos. "Lady Pyrrha, it will be an honour to hunt alongside you. Thank you for giving me this opportunity."

"Pyrrha, please," Pyrrha murmured. "There is no need to stand on ceremony in these circumstances."

Cinder smiled. "As you wish, Pyrrha; I look forward to seeing you in action." She turned her attention to the other members of the team. "All of you. I hope that you live up to your nascent reputations."

"Oh, we'll give you a good show, don't worry," Sunset said. "We'll give you such a good show you should have brought a picnic hamper instead of weapons. Are you ready to go?"

"I'm always ready," Cinder declared.

The rosy fingers of dawn were just laying their touch gently upon the city as the party headed towards the skydock. Ruby yawned. Sunset had, after her late-night practice session, managed to snatch a few extra minutes in bed by the simple expedient of not making much effort to get ready; she had washed swiftly, and her hair resembled a bush, or possibly looked as though it had been dragged through one.

Pyrrha looked not only as fresh as ever but as perfect too; she and Cinder were well matched in both looking as though they rolled out of bed and into their stylist's chair. Lady Nikos, on the other hand, looked as though she could have used a little more rest than circumstances had allowed her.

"I'm sorry for the early start," Sunset said, "but-"

"But we must find and kill this creature quickly," Pyrrha declared. "If it is allowed to continue preying on defenceless herdsmen and husbandmen, if it descends into the valleys and begins to stalk the farmers, then the whole area will descend into panic. And panic will bring even more grimm."

Sunset nodded. She could still remember how scared she'd been when she first came to Remnant and found herself sharing the world with these monsters: so scared that she had come closer than at any point to crawling back through the mirror, kissing the hooves of Princess Celestia, and crying forgiveness for all the wrongs that she had done. It was easy to forget that fear, once you had your aura unlocked and were given a little training; it was easy to forget how menacing the grimm were. Even one beowolf would be more than capable of slaughtering an entire family alone in their shepherd's cottage on the hillside.

"Does Professor Lionheart have any way of summoning back any professionals to defend the city?" Sunset asked as they walked.

"Even if he could, would he?" demanded Lady Nikos. She wore armour similar to that of Pyrrha, except that there was less protection afforded to her legs, and the cuirass was set with what might be costume jewels or, considering the wealth of the Nikos family, perhaps even real ones. The armour no longer fit her perfectly, but neither did it fit so poorly that she could no longer wear it at all. Strapped across her back, she wore the sword that Sunset had seen on her desk. "I cannot understand what goes on in that man's mind."

"Since Mistral seems in need of more huntsmen than it currently possesses, perhaps an approach should be made to the Atlesian forces based at Argus?" Cinder suggested silkily. She was wearing grey pants and a beige, sleeveless jacket which she had left unfastened, revealing that she had – for whatever reason – decided to forsake a shirt in favour of binding up her breasts with bandages to preserve her modesty. Whatever, if she wanted to dress like that, then that was her business. More important were the pair of scimitars and the bow that she carried, all three weapons strapped to her back across her waistline. "I'm sure that some specialists could-"

"This is Mistral, girl," Lady Nikos declared with a derisive snort. "Our strength is not so diminished that we are dependent upon the protection of Atlas. We address our own problems here."

"I'm well aware of how Mistral solves its problems, Lady Nikos," Cinder replied, and for a moment, her voice lost its smoothness and acquired an edge of anger, but it was one that was gone as soon as it had come. "Still, I'm surprised to hear that you don't trust Atlas. After all, they're only here for our protection. Aren't they?"

"Forgive me, Cinder, my lady," Sunset said, "but although you might have the energy for a spirited discussion on geopolitics and international relations, I'm not sure that this is the time or the place."

Cinder smiled. "Of course, Sunset, you're quite right. A thousand pardons, my lady."

They arrived at the skydock, the same skydock that they had docked at when they arrived in Mistral the day before yesterday. An airship was waiting for them, another of the primitive-looking, almost Equestrian-seeming Mistralian airships with the double hull that had carried them into the city. Waiting at the docking pad also was a fox faunus who, like Sunset, was possessed of the ears and tail alike of the animal whose traits she had been imbued with. Her hair, her face, her entire visible body was a colourless white, all save for the striking crimson of her eyes and the pink eyeshadow she was wearing in the 'winged' style with which Pyrrha enhanced her eyes. The faunus girl was dressed in a brown leather cuirass and bracers over a robe of pale blue, with a tiger-stripe sash tied around her waist. There was a bow slung across her back and a short dust-blade at her hip.

"Lady Nikos," she said. "Lady Pyrrha." She glanced at Ruby. "Miss Rose. I did not realise you were in this company."

"Yep," Ruby said. "I'm a member of Team Sapphire."

"Led by me, Sunset Shimmer," Sunset declared. "That's Jaune Arc, rounding out the team, and Cinder Fall of Team Clementine of Haven. And you are?"

"Camilla Volsci, of Rutulian Security," Camilla declared. "Most of our operatives are in the field. I have been asked to defend the city with what remains while you go forth, but I would rather join you on your hunt. I would kill this beast as far from the city as can be managed, and my semblance, Farsight, may be of use to you."

"Are you willing to follow my lead?" Sunset asked.

Camilla regarded her evenly. "I am older and more experienced-"

"And this is my team," Sunset declared. "My team. My responsibility. You can follow my orders, or you can stay here and defend Mistral as you were asked."

Camilla looked past Sunset. "What say you, Lady Nikos?"

"I say that Miss Shimmer is in command," Lady Nikos said. "We are all mere adjuncts to her team."

"I see," Camilla said softly. "Very well. My bow and sword and all my skills are at your service, Sunset Shimmer."

The now seven-strong party boarded the airship without further question or complaint, and the vessel rose gracefully up into the sky and carried them over the stepped levels and the high towers of Mistral. As they flew east, towards the sight of the most recently reported attack, Sunset noticed that the land beneath them seemed emptier than it had seemed - albeit from a greater distance - only a few days before when they flew into the city. Then, even from a distance, Sunset had been able to see not only the farms in the valleys but the shepherds on the heights of the surrounding mountains. But now, as they flew over the eastern mountains, the ridges seemed bare, empty of life, save for the occasional goat or sheep wandering lost and abandoned across the rolling hills.

"Have all the people fled to Mistral so quickly?" Sunset asked.

"Indeed," Pyrrha said softly. "In times of peril, the city has always been a refuge for those who dwell around it. It is expected that they should seek the protection of the walls when grimm or enemies come near, just as it is expected that the gates will be open to admit them."

"They will return," Camilla added. "Once the danger is passed."

"Some will not return," Cinder said. "Or else we wouldn't be here."

True enough, Sunset conceded mentally. Although perhaps it would have been better if you hadn't said so.

"Does anyone have any idea what sort of grimm it is?" Jaune asked. He was standing in the centre of the airship's passenger compartment, far from the edges and the view of the ground.

"Nobody knows, do they?" Sunset said with a glance at Cinder. "Professor Lionheart didn't mention it to us; did he say anything to you?"

"No," Cinder said. The wind blew her long, dark hair this way and that, so that at times, it was even possible to see her other eye. "The attacks have been on shepherds' huts, isolated farmsteads; there are never any survivors to describe the attacker, and the attacks are always at night, so the beast isn't seen."

"If there are no survivors, then who reported the attacks?" Sunset asked.

"A son coming home from the market to find his father's house broken into and all within killed," Cinder explained. "A neighbour, of sorts, who waited until morning to investigate the screams that he heard in the night."

"Two Rutulian Security personnel investigating an alarm being triggered at a prosperous farm," Camilla added.

Cinder concluded, "Just because there are no survivors doesn't mean that nobody ever finds out."

"But people showing up after the fact can't tell us what's doing this," Ruby muttered.

"So, there's still a chance that this just a beowolf?" Jaune asked.

"Could be," Sunset allowed, "but I doubt it."

"Do you?" Lady Nikos inquired. "What makes you say that, Miss Shimmer?"

You can never stop testing, can you? Sunset snorted, although she hoped that Lady Nikos didn't notice. "To start with, this thing is smart: it knows that it can do more damage, spread more terror, by killing at night when it can move unseen. That means that it's probably old, and an old, smart beowolf would be smart enough to join a pack. But if this is just one grimm, it's probably from a species more comfortable alone: ursa, deathstalker, maybe a beringel. We'll know more once we get to the sight of the last attack. Jaune?"

"Yeah?"

"Any ideas?" Sunset asked, with a glance at Lady Nikos.

Jaune blinked. "Uh... if it's only attacking at night, then...that means it must be resting during the day, somewhere quiet. Somewhere it hides, like a lair or something. If we can find the lair, we find the monster, right?"

"Right," Sunset agreed. She watched as Lady Nikos' nodded in approval. I think we picked up a couple of points with that.

Shortly after, the airship began to descend close by a ruined wooden house, reduced to ruin. All four walls had been smashed in and the roof brought down; rubble and debris were strewn across the landscape, along with… more pitiful and wretched things than broken wooden boards.

"This is as far as I take you," the pilot called from the cockpit. "When you want pick-up, use the flare to signal, and someone will come and get you."

"Understood," Sunset replied. "We'll see you soon."

The airship dropped to within a couple of feet of the ground, allowing the huntsmen to dismount easily and close by the house. It was clear immediately that this was the work of grimm: not far from the house, there was a paddock still full of sheep, baaing as they milled about, trying, without success, to escape from their wooden restraints. No mere predator would have bothered to break into a house to kill those inside while leaving all those sheep, but grimm didn't bother with animals unless the animals bothered them first. Presumably, that was why the sheepdog had had its head ripped - or bitten - clean off. It had tried to protect its master and had paid the price for its canine loyalty.

"Spread out and search for tracks," Sunset ordered.

They did so, searching the area around the destroyed homestead, forcing themselves to go closer to the place then they might have liked, to the point where Sunset could see traces of blood amongst the ruins. While they were searching, Ruby sliced through the chain holding the sheep pen shut with Crescent Rose and released the creatures out onto the grass around.

"I mean… they're not comfortable where they are, and they'll go hungry if no one comes to take care of them," Ruby explained when she caught sight of Sunset's inquisitive look.

Sunset thought that someone would have come and claimed them as soon as the immediate crisis was over - which hopefully would be soon; she didn't intend to spend weeks hunting down this creature - but Ruby had a kind heart, and there was no point protesting what she had already done. Whoever came to claim the flock would simply have to round them up, that was all. Although Sunset would confess to a small degree of wry internal amusement when one particularly fat ovine repaid Ruby's trouble by attempting to eat her red cape. Pyrrha came to Ruby's rescue and shooed the sheep gently but firmly away before it could do any real damage.

It was Camilla who found the tracks: large, heavy prints belonging to a creature with what looked like three hooves on the ends of each foot.

"Not a beowolf, then," Jaune murmured.

"Nor an ursa or a deathstalker," Sunset said.

"Do you know what it is?" Ruby asked. "You're the one who pays attention to Professor Port."

"If he's mentioned this one, I can't remember right away," Sunset replied. "Or perhaps he hasn't gotten around to it yet. We are supposed to have four years learning, after all," she added, with a sharp look towards Pyrrha. "But… no, I can't say what it is."

"Nor I," Cinder said lightly, sounding very unconcerned about her ignorance. "It must be a rare grimm indeed."

"Even if we cannot identify the creature, we know its direction," Camilla said. "The tracks lead northeast. That's where we'll find the creature's lair."

"Agreed," Sunset said. "I'll lead, then Pyrrha, then Jaune, then Ruby; Cinder, Camilla, the two of you bring up the rear."

"Of course," Cinder said.

"As you wish," Camilla agreed.

"Where is my place?" Lady Nikos asked.

"As you like, my lady, so long as it is neither ahead of me nor behind Cinder," Sunset said, in a tone that mixed command and respect in hopefully equal measure.

"I will not interfere with your dispositions," Lady Nikos assured her.

"Then there is no reason for us to remain here," Sunset declared. "Let's move."

They walked all day. Sunset had had some doubts; she would confess internally if not aloud, that Lady Nikos with her injured leg would be able to keep up the pace, but it seemed that with her aura activated as it was now, her limp didn't trouble her as it had done inside the safety and security of her house. All to the good, because it seemed that this beast could move quickly across the country. More quickly than they could, for though they trekked all day across the Mistral mountainsides, across the slopes of the Caelian and the Esquiline mounts, they did not come to the grimm's lair, nor catch up with it on the way to the same, nor even catch sight of it running ahead of them, not even with Camilla's long-sighted semblance.

It was a small relief that they didn't see any signs of the destruction the beast had unleashed either. They passed no more destroyed cottages, no more signs of death and destruction. Not on that route, anyway. They came across no other people, but if there had been other victims since the latest known attack, they saw no sign of them. And, seeing no signs, they could tell themselves that there had been no other attacks.

They crossed the mountains, passing above valley villages that seemed quiet, farmland that seemed devoid of workers. The grimm might not have done any more damage along this way, but already, terror had spread from it like a vicious miasma and overwhelmed the people who huddled behind their walls and their locked doors as though they would protect them.

"When, of course, the only ones who can really protect them from the grimm are us," Cinder said as she came to stand by Sunset's side. She smiled. "The ones with power and the will to use it as we see fit."

Sunset looked back at the other girl, over Sunset's own shoulder. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Because I was thinking the same thing," Cinder replied. "Little people, clinging to their walls, to their locked doors, to the so-called safety of their homes, to their plans to survive, their contingencies; clinging to false hope."

"As you put it yourself, hope is what sees us through," Sunset said softly. "Sometimes, it's all we have, however false or unfounded it may be."

Cinder's one visible eyebrow rose. "You mean that you would be as foolish in their position?"

"I hope to sun and moon never to be so helpless as those people are," Sunset said. But I have been foolish in my desperation in the past.

Cinder stared down at her for a moment. Then she flashed her teeth in a brief smile. "No, you're not helpless, are you? We are neither of us helpless. We're the ones with the power, the ones who will decide the future of those below."

Sunset had the distinct impression that she wasn't just talking about their geographical location relative to the town below.

The sun was setting by now, and they had no way of knowing how much farther it was until they found the grimm's hideout.

"We'll make camp for the night," Sunset decided. "It's likely this grimm can see better in the dark than we can, not to mention that once it stirs from its lair, we'll have no way of finding it."

"But if we stop," Ruby protested, "won't the grimm go out and attack again?"

Sunset held Ruby's gaze. "We can't save everyone."

The two of them stared at each other. Ruby didn't quite argue against her, but it was clear from the look in her eyes that she very much wanted to. Even if her mind accepted Sunset's point, her heart rebelled against it.

Sunset said nothing more, because she knew she was right, and she thought that Ruby knew that she was right, and all she had to do was wait for Ruby to accept it.

"Sunset-" Ruby began.

"We'll save nobody if we blunder into an ambush," Sunset said sharply. To push through dark, to do whatever it took, might be the righteous thing to do. It might even be the right thing to do. But Sunset was certain that her decision was the smart and the safe one, and so, that was what they were going to do.

Depending on how much further the hideout was… if it looked like this hunt was going to go on for several days, then she might consider night-marching to bring it to an end faster, but not tonight.

Tonight, they would rest.

Ruby bowed her head. “Okay. I guess.”

No one else offered any objection, and Lady Nikos seemed to prefer watching what they did than interfering, and so, they made camp out on the grassy mountainside as the sun fell and the darkness descended all around them.

Jaune, who had always excelled in the field craft class even before he'd started putting any work in at anything else, made their fire and cooked their dinner. As she watched him work, Sunset reflected that one of the advantages of operating straight out of Mistral on this impromptu little mission was that they'd been able to bring some fresh produce with them rather than having to rely on ration packs or MREs. Jaune had even obtained some novel spices and seasonings from the Nikos’ kitchen and was trying some of them out, adding them to the boiling pot with the chopped up vegetables.

"Smells good," Sunset said.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos murmured. "You appear to have some talent as a cook, young Mister Arc."

"Thanks," Jaune said. "My mom taught me to... I mean, uh," He cleared his throat. "Thank you very much lady, compliment gratefully... accepted."

"Hmm," Lady Nikos murmured, her expression leaving it quite up in the air whether she approved of Jaune's talent in this field or disapproved of anyone who wasn't wealthy enough to employ their own chef.

Cinder's amber eye seemed to glow in the descending light. "Isn't there any meat?"

Jaune glanced up at her. "Not in here. You see, Sunset-"

"I'm a vegetarian," Sunset explained.

"Ah," Cinder replied, "and you've imposed your choices on your teammates. That's your privilege as leader, I suppose."

"To an extent, I suppose," Sunset said. "I've no problem with them eating meat; I just won't have them forcing me to eat it as well."

"Pyrrha needs meat," Jaune said. "I was going to fry her some sausages-"

"Oh, Jaune, you don't need to go to so much trouble for me," Pyrrha said.

"Then perhaps he can go to the trouble for both of us," Cinder murmured. "If you don't mind."

"No, it's fine," Jaune said. "I was just about to make the offer."

"Much obliged," Cinder said.

"Ruby?" Jaune asked. "Miss Volsci?"

"I'll be fine," Ruby said. "What's in the pot smells delicious."

"'Camilla' will do," Camilla said softly. "And I, too, will be content."

Cinder said, "I confess that you've surprised me, Sunset; I didn't figure you for the type to feel compassion for animals."

Sunset smiled. "As an animal myself, eating them feels a little too close to cannibalism for my liking."

Cinder chuckled. "Wouldn't that make cannibalism the natural state of the world? All creatures prey on those weaker than themselves, and humanity, as the strongest of all animals, preys upon all the rest and devours them."

"Except for the grimm, which prey on humanity and devour them," Sunset pointed out. "So who's really the dominant species around here?"

"That," Cinder declared, "is a question that has yet to be answered, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "Looking ahead a little: Jaune, you take the first watch. I'll take the middle, and Pyrrha the last." It was Sunset's opinion that the middle watch was the hardest, as you didn't get a period of uninterrupted sleep either at the beginning or the end of the night.

"I should take the middle watch; I'm fresher than you," Pyrrha said.

"Then you might as well stay that way tomorrow; I'll be fine."

"What about me?" Cinder asked. "I could take on all three watches, if you like?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You don't need sleep?"

The firelight danced in Cinder's eye. "I am driven beyond the need for it. Have you ever felt so hungry that you can't sleep, because your stomach is paining you too much to let you?"

Sunset frowned, if only a little. "Once or twice, a little."

"I have a hunger in me that will not let me rest."

"Well, see how you feel after you've tried my cooking," Jaune said, a slight smile playing across his face.

Cinder snorted. "That isn't the kind of hunger that I'm referring to." She glanced at Pyrrha for a moment, and then looked away again.

"I'd never be able to guess that you were an insomniac to look at you," Sunset said. "Thank you for your... kind offer, but I think we'll manage to keep our eyes open."

"You don't trust me to watch over you safely?" Cinder asked.

"With me, I'm afraid trust takes a little while to be earned," Sunset replied. "It's nothing personal."

"Of course not," Cinder said. "Trust is a commodity too precious to be spent frivolously or without thought. Why, some might even argue that you trust me too far; you don't know me and yet you will let me fight alongside you."

"We know that you're a huntress in training, just like us," Ruby said. "And so we know that you're ready to fight for humanity, just like us." She smiled. "So already, we know a lot about you."

Cinder's lips twitched upwards. "And so every huntress or huntsman in training is valiant and noble?" she asked. "A trustworthy ally in the fight against the grimm?"

Ruby nodded. "We're all the same. No matter why we came here or what our reasons were, we're all in the same place, to do the same thing, for the same goal."

"We are the heirs to the heroes of song and storybook," Pyrrha said, "and in the tales, the heroes are always noble."

"And in the tales, it is always summer, but in the real world, winter comes," Cinder replied.

"For farmers and for shepherds, maybe," Sunset declared, "but not for the likes of us. Or do you, too, not dare to dream that ambition may win out against all obstacles strewn in its path? What do we hope for, if not that we may defy this stale, hard rock called life, withstand all efforts it may make to crush us, and shape it to our dreams and dear ambitions?"

The firelight danced in Cinder's visible eye. "I knew there was a kinship between us," she said. "We may succeed, or we may fail and, in the failing, fall into despair… but either way, it should be quite something to watch us try."

“At what cost?” Pyrrha asked softly.

Cinder did not reply. She looked at Pyrrha with what seemed almost like confusion in her fire-illumined eye. “I do not understand.”

“What price will you pay to achieve your ambitions?” Pyrrha demanded, and though she was looking at Cinder, Sunset had the distinct impression that she was talking to Sunset too. “What price will you force others to pay to achieve your dreams?”

“Some dreams are worth paying for,” Sunset said softly.

“That is not for the dreamer alone to decide,” Pyrrha declared, not taking her eyes off Cinder. “What of those who must carry your dream? What of those who might suffer so that you can achieve it?”

Cinder leaned forwards. The fall of her hair cast more of her face in shadow than was concealed by it. “And how many have suffered at your hands, for your ambitions?” she asked, her voice quiet and silky. “How many dreams have you crushed in the arena?”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. Her voice, too, was soft. “That is not the same thing.”

“If you care so much about the dreams of others, then cast your weapons aside and let Arslan Altan take the champions’ crown,” Cinder suggested.

“That is not the same thing,” Pyrrha repeated, her voice sharpening like Miló’s tip. “I… I hope it is not the same thing.”

“You do not dream of trophies and gilded laurels,” Camilla declared.

The corner of Cinder’s lip twitched upwards. “I fear you could not conceive of what I dream of, Lady Camilla.”

Camilla had been lounging backwards, her arms folded across her chest, but now, she sat up. “I was ward to the late Lord Rutulus before his untimely death; I am a faunus, but I am no stranger to people of ambition. I know the difference between a lust for baubles and a desire to change the world.”

“Bauble, you say?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Is that what you think of the trophies and the gilded laurels that are the prize of victory?”

“Is it not so?” Pyrrha murmured.

Lady Nikos did not hear, or else, she pretended not to hear. “What is it that we leave behind us when we are gone?” she asked, of no one person but of all the assembly gathered around the fire.

“Family,” Jaune said. “We leave our families behind us, if we’re lucky. The people who love us and will remember us when we’re gone.”

“If we are fortunate,” Camilla whispered. “For myself… forgive me, Lady Nikos, but I think it matters not. When we are dead, then we are dead. My honoured Lord may be said to live on in my memory, and even more in the memory of his splendid children, perhaps in those who knew him well and loved him just the same… but he is dead and dust, and in the cold crypt, he lies beneath our house. Why waste time then on how we will be remembered? Let us rather live well while we can, obedient to good conscience and to honour.”

“But then that’s the answer,” Ruby said. “The way we live, the things we did, that is what we leave behind us. The people we saved, the people we inspired.”

“Ah, but that just passes the problem on to someone else,” Cinder replied. “You leave them behind, but what do they leave behind?”

“The memory of our deeds will live on after us,” Sunset said.

“Only if they are recorded,” Pyrrha replied. “Is that not what you set your mark at, Mother?”

Lady Nikos nodded. “All across Mistral now, there are huntsmen and huntresses, in small villages and quiet towns, armed and ready to defend them against the grimm. How many people in Anima know their names? My husband, Pyrrha’s father, gave his life in battle against the grimm, and how many people recall his name, compared with how many would recognise Pyrrha’s face in a photograph? The deeds of the heroes are of less import than the tales that will be told of them when they are gone, and there are no tales for ordinary huntsmen, not any more.”

“Huntsmen are the heirs to the heroes of song and story,” Ruby said. “To Olivia and all the heroes like her.”

“And yet, there will be no song made of you, as there was for Olivia,” Lady Nikos said, although she sounded slightly melancholy at the fact. “No one will write the Song of Ruby Rose, and no eager young girl will read it.”

Don’t be so sure, my lady; they will sing a Song of Sapphires yet, I swear it.

“So?” Ruby asked. “So long as we act like heroes, then does it matter if people remember that we were heroes?”

“Where will the next generation of heroes come from, if none are remembered from the days before?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Will the same stories be passed down from one generation to the next, growing all the more stale with each telling?”

“Have we in Mistral not told the story of The Mistraliad from one generation to the next?” Cinder asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.

Lady Nikos almost smiled. “True, Miss Fall, but how many other tales from that day have lived on? None of such antiquity. Only the most venerable of the old stories endure; the rest are crowded out of the collective memory of our realm by newer stories and newer heroes. In every generation, our great families strive for greatness, and the deeds of each generation are recorded for the inspiration of those that come after. Miss Volsci, it is true that your… that Lord Rutulus is as dead as my husband, but the fact remains that he is interred within the crypt beside his ancestors, and he will be remembered as a lord of the Rutulus family while the line endures. And so it is with that which you deride as baubles, the crowns and laurels of our most ancient tradition, the arena. To be a champion, to dedicate the spoils to Victory in the temple… is to be immortal.”

“A paragon of virtue to rise above all others,” Jaune said.

He had spoken quietly, but not quietly enough that Lady Nikos did not hear him. “Indeed, Mister Arc. Has Pyrrha spoken with you of this before?”

“Uh, kind of, um, my lady,” Jaune admitted. “I, uh… I’m not sure that I agree.”

“Your family will not be around forever, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos reminded him. “One day, they too shall pass, and what will you leave then?”

“Nothing,” Jaune admitted. “But by that time, they’ll have left something, hopefully. The next generation crowds out the one before, just like you said. I’m sure it sounds great, being immortal like that, but what do you have to do to get it?” He glanced at Pyrrha, but did not hold her gaze for long. “What do you have to suffer to get it?”

“Suffering should be no barrier to achievement,” Lady Nikos declared.

“But perhaps harming others should,” Pyrrha added.

“Should our freedom end where that of others begins?” Cinder asked. “If it were so, would we not all live our lives trapped in a kind of amber, constrained by the sheer mass of bodies that press close all around us?”

“Better that than we should hurt them by our indifference to their lives in pursuit of our goal,” Pyrrha said.

Cinder did not reply to that. Instead, she said, “If I may, Lady Nikos, I too would take issue with you. What we leave behind… what we ought to strive to leave behind, is so much more than just our name in a book or a monument.”

“Then what should it be instead?” Sunset asked.

“The change in the world we made,” Cinder explained. “To leave Remnant a different place than you found it, to have transformed it by your deeds… that is a legacy to take pride in.”

As everyone else bedded down to sleep, Jaune took the first watch. As everyone else lay down and closed their eyes, Jaune stood up and turned his gaze towards the edge of their makeshift camp, looking out into the darkness in case any peril came that way.

Of course, he wasn't alone in not sleeping. Cinder had proved as good as her word to Sunset: she did not lie down. She just sat, staring into the fire even as it began to die, the diminishing flames continuing to dance in her one visible eye.

Jaune glanced at her, then looked away again before she saw him staring. He thought that she knew anyway. There were times when he thought that she was looking at him, but he could never actually catch her doing it.

From the smirk that played across her face, she was enjoying this.

Jaune turned his back on her and focussed on the task at hand.

"Family, huh?"

Jaune didn't look around. "What?"

"When Lady Nikos asked her question, you said 'family,'" Cinder repeated. "Family is what we leave behind when we are gone."

Jaune put one hand on the hilt of Crocea Mors. "I… I guess I did."

"Is that your dream?" Cinder asked. "A wife and a gaggle of children playing at your feet?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment. "I… I wouldn't say no," he replied.

"Then what are you doing here?" Cinder asked sharply. "Did you come to Beacon hoping to find the future Mrs Arc?"

"I came to Beacon because I wanted…" Jaune began. He stopped, saying that he wanted to be a hero sounded childish in front of this person he didn't know. He settled on, "I wanted to do my part."

Cinder was silent for a moment. Jaune didn't hear her get up. He didn't realise that she was coming towards him until she was standing beside him. "You realise that you'll probably die in this line of work long before you actually have a family to remember you?"

"You don't know that," Jaune said.

"I know the likelihood," Cinder said. She paused. "And so do you, don't you?"

Jaune breathed in and out. "Yeah," he said. "I'm not stupid; I know what I've gotten myself into."

"And yet here you are," Cinder murmured. She smiled. "Let me guess… lots of brothers and sisters."

"Sisters," Jaune confirmed. "Seven of them."

"How many of them have children already?" Cinder asked.

"Two," Jaune said.

"So you're okay with the fact that you might die before you get a chance to have children of your own because you think that your nieces and nephews will remember brave Uncle Jaune?"

"I'm okay with the risk because…" Jaune glanced at Cinder; she was still smiling. "Because I'd rather die than let my friends down."

"How gallant of you," Cinder muttered dryly. "Troth is the highest thing a man may keep. Truly, a sentiment worthy of a latter day knight."

Jaune chuckled. "I'm not a knight."

"You're dressed like one," Cinder remarked. She looked him up and down. "Or… like a parody of one, at least. Did you and Sunset shop at the same place for your armour? I've never seen anything quite like it."

"I don't know," Jaune admitted. "I mean, I know that this is a little… bargain basement, but in my defence, I didn't have a lot of money when I bought it."

"Obviously," Cinder said. "But you were trying to look like a knight, weren't you?"

"I… I guess," Jaune admitted. "But I was so stupid back then that I try not to think too hard about what I was thinking."

"Past stupidity has that effect on the best of us," Cinder agreed. "What's it like, being on a team with the likes of Pyrrha Nikos?"

Jaune glanced at her. "Are you asking me if I feel overshadowed?"

"Do you not?" Cinder asked. "Some might even feel emasculated."

Jaune snorted. "Maybe at first, but… not anymore."

"No?"

"Pyrrha… is better than I am," Jaune conceded. "A better huntress, a better person… you could say the same thing about Ruby and Sunset. Well… maybe just the better huntress part, in Sunset's case. I know that I can't be their knight, but that doesn't mean that I can't stand alongside them. I think… I think if Ruby were awake, she'd say that it didn't really matter who the best of us was, so long as we saved people."

"Would you consider starting your family with any of them?" Cinder asked.

Jaune made a strangled squawking noise. "What kind of a question is that?" he hissed.

Cinder shrugged. "Two of them are attractive young women. You're," she looked him up and down, "male."

Jaune shook his head. "That… that's not going to happen." He waited a moment. "What about you, do your plans to change the world not include a family?"

Cinder was silent for a moment. She looked away from him, and the smile faded from her face. "I… I cannot have children. An accident, when I was young."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Jaune apologised. "I didn't mean to bring back any bad memories, I just-"

"You didn't," Cinder assured him, even as she cut him off. "My memories… are always with me. You cannot bring them back, any more than you could send them away again. They simply… are. I will never have a family," she said, "but I will leave a monument of my existence for generations yet unborn."

Sunset rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she sat up. The night was quiet; there wasn't even the sound of an owl screeching in the darkness. Sunset grabbed Sol Invictus from where it lay beside her as she got to her feet. She tried to be quiet, but nevertheless made enough noise that Jaune turned towards her.

"Everything quiet?" Sunset asked.

Jaune glanced towards Cinder, who sat beside the dying embers of the fire. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Get some sleep," Sunset told him.

"Right," Jaune said. "Goodnight, Sunset."

"Goodnight, Jaune," Sunset said quietly, as she made her way to the edge of the camp, cradling her rifle in her arms. She looked back at Jaune as he lay down. Before long, he was out like a light.

Sunset turned away from her slumbering companions, casting a spell upon her eyes to let them penetrate the dark. The world turned green before her eyes as the darkness stood revealed to her.

"He's the weak link, isn't he?" Cinder asked softly.

"There are no weak links on my team," Sunset declared.

Cinder laughed quietly. "Your loyalty to your teammates is admirable, but all men are not created equal."

"When I finally get to meet your team, I'm going to spend some time slagging them off so you can see how it feels," Sunset muttered.

Cinder continued chuckling. "You're assuming that it would bother me if you did."

"It would bother you," Sunset averred.

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"Because they're your team, and as much as you might affect a blasé attitude now, you wouldn't actually like me to make fun of what's yours," Sunset said. "Not your team, not your weapons, not your dress sense, which deserves to be made fun of, quite frankly."

"Says the girl wearing an armoured bra."

"In the first place, it's a breastplate, not a bra, and in the second place… at least I'm wearing a bra," Sunset replied.

"I take it that inadequate piece of metal was all you could afford," Cinder said. "Considering that you're less well-equipped in that regard than the would-be knight over there."

"There are times," Sunset conceded, "when we must cut our cloth."

"Indeed, at least in material terms," Cinder admitted. "When it comes to the things that really matter, though… we must keep the scissors firmly on the table."

Sunset's lip twitched upwards, for all that she had her back to Cinder, preventing the other girl from seeing it.

"How did you find it?" Cinder asked. "Being a team leader?"

"Oh, it was easy," Sunset lied. "I took to it like a duck to water."

"So did I," Cinder said, and Sunset couldn't tell if she was being only as honest as Sunset herself or not. "It's a curious thing, isn't it, to suddenly be responsible for others after being responsible to no one but oneself?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "It… it turned out to be more of a weight than I was expecting."

"Really?"

"You don't just get to ride your teammates' achievements to glory," Sunset said. "You have to… their lives are in your hands. We walk the line between triumph and disaster, with lives at stake and no one to blame but ourselves."

"You really think you might fail?"

"You don't?"

"No," Cinder said simply. "I know I won't fail. I won't allow myself to fail."

"I wish I had your confidence," Sunset said quietly.

"I'm a little surprised you don't," Cinder replied. "And, I must confess, a little disappointed."

Sunset snorted. "Haven students don't get sent on as many field missions as Beacon students, do they?"

"No," Cinder conceded. "Nor do we get ourselves into battles with the White Fang."

Sunset was quiet for a moment. I don't owe her an explanation. I don't owe her anything.

But if I don't explain myself, she'll think I'm just weak.

"My first field mission was going up against a small horde of grimm," Sunset explained.

"Even a small horde must have been an intimidating sight for a first year student," Cinder said.

"I didn't face it from the front," Sunset replied. "I came up with a plan to sneak around the flank of it, kill their leader, and break the horde so that it would scatter across the forest rather than hit Vale."

"Daring and imaginative," Cinder declared. "I like it."

"Except for the part where I hadn't thought of a way for us to get out again," Sunset said. "If our teacher hadn't been monitoring our progress, then we wouldn't have made it out of the middle of all those angry grimm." She sighed. "And in that battle against the White Fang that you're so fond of mentioning… it might have put Team Sapphire on the map a little bit, but… but it almost got Ruby killed."

Cinder took a little while to reply. Her voice was soft. "I didn't know that. What happened?"

"A faunus with a red sword," Sunset growled. "He came at me. His semblance… he froze me up, like a bird hypnotised by a snake. I couldn't move, I couldn't… he held me in place while he came to cut me down. Ruby pushed me out of the way, but then… his red sword cut right through her aura. If it hadn't been for Jaune… I led my team into a fight, and I nearly got one of them killed."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Cinder demanded. "What are you going to do about the faunus with the red sword?"

"I'm going to kill him, obviously," Sunset said simply, "and I'm going to play it safe where my team is concerned."

"Glory doesn't come from playing it safe," Cinder declared. "Immortality does not accrue to those who play it safe."

"Neither will death."

"Don't be so sure," Cinder whispered. "You can play it safe, you can be cautious, you can quit Beacon and live as quietly as any mouse… but death will lay his hand upon you all the same."

"So what?" Sunset asked. "Live like there's no tomorrow?"

"Fight like you don't care whether you live or die," Cinder said. "Ironically, it might be your best chance at staying alive."

Pyrrha’s eyes snapped open. She was on her feet almost immediately.

“One of these days, you’ll have to teach me how you do that,” Sunset observed with a touch of amusement in her voice.

“That would require me to know how I do it myself,” Pyrrha replied. “It’s just… something I was born with.”

Sunset snorted. “The girl with all the gifts.”

“I suppose you might say that,” Pyrrha murmured. “Is there anything that I should worry about?”

“No,” Sunset said. “It’s been all clear.”

“That is good news, for us at least,” Pyrrha said softly. “Goodnight, Sunset.”

“Goodnight,” Sunset replied quietly, as she put her rifle down beside her and curled up on the ground. It seemed to take her a while to actually go back to sleep. One of the perils of taking the middle watch.

Pyrrha found herself watching her teammates as they slept - even Sunset, eventually - all around her. Her eyes found Jaune, fast asleep, his face looking so noble.

A part of her wanted to run one hand through his hair. A much larger part of her knew that if she actually did that, it would be very odd and rather disturbing.

“If you want to do something, then don’t mind me,” Cinder said. “I won’t tell, still less object.”

Pyrrha turned to face her, where Cinder sat beside the cold, dead ashes of the fire. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” Pyrrha murmured.

Cinder smirked. It was a rather ugly thing to Pyrrha’s eyes. “I saw you at the party together,” she said. “You were… well, I don’t need to tell you what you were feeling, do I?”

“No,” Pyrrha said, quietly and somewhat coldly. “You don’t.”

“He is a handsome young man, I suppose.” The smirk slid slowly off of Cinder’s face. “'Friend of my soul,'” she murmured. “'If, being away from this war, we might live unchanging and unbound by death, I would not send you forth thus into battle that brings renown to princes, nor would I fight in the foremost ranks myself; but, being that ten thousand fates of death surround us, let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else gain great honour for ourselves.'”

“The Mistraliad, book twelve,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Laodamia to Bellerophon.”

“Indeed,” Cinder said. She was quiet for a moment before she added, “Laodamia commits a fallacy, don’t you think? The question is not whether or not she will die - that is inevitable - but when. By quitting the battle, she and Bellerophon might not have lived forever, but they would have lived far longer than they did; Laodamia perished that very day as Camilla rampaged through her lines, and Bellerophon was slain in the battle for the corpse and armour of your namesake. How much more time might they have had, if they had only turned away?”

“What are you saying?” Pyrrha asked.

“That you could turn away,” Cinder said, as though it were obvious. “Take your beautiful boy and quit this place, and all other fields of war besides. Retreat into your inherited wealth and the splendours of your ancient name. Live without the fear of imminent death.”

“I cannot do that,” Pyrrha said.

“Why not?” Cinder asked. “Are you so confident in your skills that you truly think yourself invincible?”

“No,” Pyrrha declared, “but my duty demands it.”

“Ah,” Cinder acknowledged. “'Duty,' of course. I should have known, Lady Pyrrha.”

“You don’t need to call me that,” Pyrrha said.

“You would disclaim the title but claim all the responsibilities of a lordly station?”

“If it is hypocrisy, it is at least a benign sort, no?” Pyrrha replied.

“I suppose,” Cinder conceded. “If you were sincere.”

“Excuse me?”

“Does my… ” Cinder paused, a laugh escaping her lips. “Do you recall the Kommenos family?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied, distracted from her outrage. “Phoebe… I will not claim to be her friend, but what happened to her mother and sister - not to mention all of their retainers - was a terrible tragedy.”

“Indeed, to die by fire,” Cinder murmured. “As you say, a tragedy. Mother, sister and retainers.” She looked away from Pyrrha, into the ashes that were all that remained of their fire. Cinder looked back up at Pyrrha. “You never answered your mother’s question. You elaborated, but you never answered in your own right.”

“Because I have no settled and no certain answer,” Pyrrha explained. “All of the answers of my friends have at least some merit. For myself… I cannot be sure. I fear… I do not know what I would like to leave behind when I am gone.”

“If that is all you fear, then you are truly blessed,” Cinder said. “For in this world, after all, there are so many other things to fear, and worse besides.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “Perhaps… no, I will admit it, I am well blessed in many things.” She glanced down at the slumbering Ruby. “Would you please relieve me, briefly? I need to speak with Camilla.”

Cinder cocked her head very slightly to one side. “Very well,” she agreed, and turned her back on Pyrrha, turning her face outwards to the night and all that it might hold.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered, as she knelt down at Camilla’s side. She did not nudge her; she didn’t want to provoke a reaction by giving Camilla cause to think that she was being attacked. She did not know the Rutulus ward too well, but there were things that everyone knew that, well, that Pyrrha shuddered to think about.

But it was not Camilla who concerned Pyrrha at the moment, but rather Juturna. Pyrrha did not know the daughter of House Rutulus particularly well either, but from her reputation… Pyrrha knew it was hypocritical of her to judge anyone by her reputation, but nevertheless, when it came to Ruby, she was inclined to be cautious.

“Camilla,” she whispered. “Camilla.”

Camilla’s eyes flickered open, focussing in on Pyrrha. “Lady Pyrrha,” she murmured.

“I don’t think there’s any need to stand on ceremony, do you?” Pyrrha replied.

Camilla was silent for a moment. “No. I suppose there is not. Is something amiss?”

“No,” Pyrrha assured her. “Cinder has taken over watch, while I… I wish to speak with you briefly.”

“About what?” Camilla asked, her voice calm and quiet.

“About Juturna Rutulus,” Pyrrha admitted. “I understand that she gave Ruby her scroll number.”

“Yes,” Camilla acknowledged. “As I understand, they mean to play games across the CCT network.”

“Do you disapprove?” Pyrrha asked. “Will… will Turnus disapprove?”

“For my own part, it is more harmless than many other things Juturna might do to amuse herself,” Camilla murmured. “And, while I would not dare to speak for Turnus, it is my experience that he denies Juturna very little that she sets her heart on. If you fear that he will look down upon Miss Rose as an unsuitable acquaintance, you have little to be concerned with. I shall tell him myself that she is a girl of good character.”

“It is not Ruby’s character that concerns me,” Pyrrha murmured.

Camilla’s red eyes narrowed a little. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that Ruby is very dear to me,” Pyrrha declared. “She is… the best person I know, brave and kind in equal measure.” She is the paragon that I aspire to be. “She is not a new toy to be thrown aside when Juturna grows tired of her.”

Camilla was silent for a moment. When her voice came, it was calm and controlled, but with a sign that that control was requiring some effort. “You are bold to say such a thing to me, who holds Juturna as dear to me as Ruby Rose seems to you.”

“Nevertheless, I must say it,” Pyrrha said. She did not add that, while Juturna Rutulus was the sort of person who never suffered any consequences for any of her mistakes - the sort of person around whom the world contorted itself to accommodate her - for Ruby, it was not so. Instead, the consequences would fall upon the likes of Ruby, an outsider. But that would have been more urgent if Ruby had had more opportunity to spend time alone with Juturna; for now, Pyrrha was more concerned with how Ruby would react if Juturna suddenly grew bored of her.

Again, Camilla took pause to consider her reply. “I have no wish to face you in a duel,” she admitted candidly.

Pyrrha could not help but observe, “You faced the underworld of Mistral without hesitation, but you profess to fear me?”

“My duty to revenge compelled me to face the underworld, and no gutter rat enjoyed your reputation,” Camilla said. “Nor had I seen any of them fight with your skill with mine own eyes. But I do not think you need to fear; Juturna… can be very accepting of outsiders.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I not proof enough for you?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Care for your friend,” Camilla said. “That is not a thing for which to apologise. In your place, I would be asking the exact same thing.”

The night passed. They heard nothing, saw nothing, and were left with no way of knowing if anyone had paid with their lives or not for Sunset's decision to stop for the night. Sunset was not normally a fan of ignorance, but in this particular case, she was thankful for it. Whatever she told Celestia or Twilight, she wouldn't include this particular detail of their working holiday – it wasn't that it was the wrong decision; it hadn't been – but it wasn't the right decision either, and she had a feeling that her old teacher and Celestia's new protégé might not... appreciate the practicalities that had motivated her.

She didn't know the consequence. She didn't want to know.

Regardless, as soon as dawn broke the next day, they broke camp and set off again, following the trail of the grimm with three hooves upon each foot. Sunset had flicked through a grimm bestiary last night, while on watch, but she hadn't come across anything that suggested to her what it might be. The print was familiar, scratching a kind of itch at the back of her mind, but she couldn't remember what it was, and she hadn't been able to find the right entry in the bestiary that would detail it for her. She dismissed the idea that it was some novel, as yet undiscovered species of grimm; she didn't believe that their luck was anywhere near that bad. All the same, she hadn't found the right entry in the book.

I know the answer, it's in here somewhere. So why can't I remember it?

Beowolf, no; ursa, no; deathstalker, no; boarbatusk, no; creep, no; manticore, no, that can fly, and so can a sphinx; anyway, none of those have hooves. What kind of grimm has hooves?

The answer nagged at her, but also hid from her view in spite of her best efforts to drag it out into the light of conscious thought, as the party tracked the prints left in the ground until, a little after midday, they arrived at a cave, a gaping hole in the mountainside descending into the bowels of the earth. The mouth of the cave was wide enough to accommodate an old grimm, swollen with years, and even with the sun at its zenith, the darkness seemed to begin close by the cave mouth, engulfing whatever lurked within in black as impenetrable as the depths of the ocean. Anything might lurk within, even the entrance to a lost subterranean civilisation.

Or just a murderous monster of an as-yet unknown kind.

"That, uh, that sure is a cave," Jaune said as they stared into its blackness.

"Mmm, very astutely put," Sunset muttered, masking her nerves with a touch of unnecessary cruelty. It's okay. It's just one grimm. It's just one grimm.

It's probably just one grimm.

Even if it is a few more, you've got this. You're you, and you've got Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune to recharge your aura, and Professor Lionheart said that Cinder was one of his best students.

And it's just one grimm.

One old and clever grimm.

But you've still got this.

With Lady Nikos watching, you can't afford not to have this.

Sunset frowned as she raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder. The feel of the rifle butt against her shoulder was reassuring, the weight of the wood in the hands comforting. "Okay, I'm fairly certain that this thing can't fly, since it walked all the way to its kill and back. Therefore, we haven't much to lose by drawing it out into the light. So I'll go in and lure it out. The rest of you wait out here." Sunset discounted the risk of the grimm fleeing from them once it was outside the cave; while old and experienced grimm would avoid picking fights that they might not win, once battle was joined, the creatures of grimm tended to fight to the death - theirs or someone else's. "Weapons ready; I don't plan on being long."

Jaune drew his sword; his shield snapped outwards from his scabbard. "Do we have a plan for when it comes out?"

"Remember the drills we practiced, once we know what we're dealing with," Sunset said.

"Will you be alright in there?" Pyrrha asked, as she slung Miló and Akoúo̱ from off her back. "You can't see in the dark; perhaps Camilla-"

"Has a bow, so she'll better staying back where she can use it once I've lured the thing out," Sunset replied.

"That doesn't change the fact that you can't see in the dark," Pyrrha said.

"Actually, I've been working on that," Sunset said. "I think I'll be okay." She took a last look at them: Pyrrha and Jaune with their weapons ready, Ruby with Crescent Rose unfurled in all its majesty, Cinder and Camilla with arrows on their bowstrings, Lady Nikos standing a little further away with her sword drawn. Then she looked back into the impenetrable darkness lurking within.

Sunset Shimmer closed her eyes and cast her night-vision spell.

She felt a tingling in her eyeballs as though she had pins and needles in them, and when she opened them again, the world was tinted green, the sunlight was irritatingly, almost blindingly white in the corners of her vision. She could already see a little way into the cave, enough to see the rough, uneven, stony surface within. Enough to see a few bones scattered around the cave mouth.

"Sunset," Jaune said. "Your eyes-"

"Yeah," Sunset said, guessing that the appearance of her pupils had changed. That was an unfortunate side effect. "Wait here," she said. "I'll make this quick."

Sunset crept into the cave, rifle raised and held before her. There were no sounds but her own, and even the mildest scuffling sounds of boots upon the floor seemed to echo in the cave like thunder as she advanced.

She walked forward; but even with her enhanced vision, she saw nothing, and even with four ears, she heard nothing.

She slipped on something that she thought was probably, uncomfortably, a bone, and had to struggle to keep her footing. She dislodged some pebbles on the cave floor, which rattled as they bounced downwards into the dark. The sound of their bouncing echoed down the tunnel, down and down and down.

The sound died down. For a moment, all was silence.

For a moment.

Sunset heard something. A thud, low and deep and heavy.

They hadn't missed their quarry, nor had they been wrong about it spending the day in hiding to avoid being seen. There was something here, something in the darkness, and it was moving somewhere out of sight. Thud. Thud.

It was moving quickly, and it was coming towards her. Thud, thud, thud. The whole cave seemed to shudder with the thunderous footfall.

And then she saw it. And once she saw it, she knew exactly what it was.

"Karkadann!" Sunset yelled as the grimm erupted out of the darkness towards her at a flat run. It had the body and the hind-legs of a horse, but its forelegs were immense, trunk-like things like great trees or the legs of a rhino, each with three hooves at the end of the immense, broad, heavy legs. Its equine head was a white mask, armour-like plates of bleached white bone protected its chest and shoulders, while a ridge of bony spikes erupted from out of his black back. Red eyes burned like fire in its sockets while a jagged horn, like the horn of a unicorn but crooked in shape, longer than a lance and with a serrated edge, emerged from out of the forehead between the eyes, a little lower than the placement of a unicorn's horn that Sunset was familiar with. The karkadann opened its mouth, revealing a row of sharp teeth, and screamed a high-pitched whinnying scream.

Sunset squeezed the trigger once, twice; the flash from the muzzle of Sol Invictus was blinding to Sunset's night-vision, but she couldn't have missed; that thing was too big to miss.

But equally, it was too big to be stopped by two bullets. Sunset dropped to one knee, planting her rifle butt on the ground like a pike and flicking the switch to extend the spear. The bayonet leapt forward on its eight foot pole, transformed into a full pike now as Sunset waited for the impact.

Blinded by her own muzzle-flashes as she was, Sunset felt, rather than saw, the karkadann strike her out-stretched spear, and she felt, rather than saw, her bayonet point skitter off the armoured bone protecting the grimm's chest and merely score its side, making the demon shriek even louder in pain. As her vision returned, Sunset saw it continuing to charge straight towards her with a fury in its eyes.

Sunset teleported away, reappearing at the mouth of the cave with the others in a flash of green light.

Sunset closed her eyes as she dispelled the night-vision spell, screwing her eyelids tight shut before the sun could blind her. "Here it comes!" she yelled.

The pounding of hooves on the ground told them that the karkadann was not far behind her.

Miló's rifle barked twice, Crescent Rose roared, and Sunset opened her eyes in time to see Camilla loose three arrows in swift succession into the darkness before the karkadann emerged from out of the darkness and into the light with a great shriek as though to merely stand in sunlight caused it pain.

Sunset fired again. As the karkadann charged, Pyrrha and Ruby rushed to meet it, Pyrrha’s hair streaming behind her like a banner as Miló switched from rifle to sword in her hand, Crescent Rose drew back for a mighty swing. The scythe blade skittered off the grimm's armoured chest, the sword sliced shallowly through the black flesh, before the karkadann's rush bowled them both over, knocking them back and flying over the grass as the grimm stopped, prancing proudly as it gazed down upon them with contempt in its burning red eyes. Smoke gathered around it as though it were aflame.

The karkadann growled as it advanced on Pyrrha.

Cinder loosed two arrows at once, which lodged in the grimm's flank but seemed to do little beyond enrage it so much that it let out another ear-splitting screech. Jaune charged with a great answering shout, howling wildly as she slashed equally wildly with Crocea Mors at one of the karkadann's immense forelegs to distract it. The karkadann roared and reared, preparing to bring its immense hooved forefoot down upon him.

Pyrrha was there in a flash, her red hair flying and the sunlight glimmering upon her bronzed armour as she shoved Jaune out of danger and thrust her spear upwards into the soft frog of the karkadann's foot. The karkadann howled, and Pyrrha leapt out of the way, her spear transforming into a sword as she sliced at where its hamstring would have been had it been a beast.

The creature retreated backwards a step or two as it swept its head down, using its great serrated horn like a sword. Pyrrha both blocked and parried, using her own sword and shield together as the karkadann's horn crashed into them. She was not overwhelmed, but she was pushed backwards, her feet leaving track-marks in the earth as she tried in vain to stand her ground against its hideous strength.

Camilla fired an arrow into the grimm’s shoulder, and it must have been tipped with fire-dust, for it exploded in a bright flower of flame.

Ruby rushed forwards in a burst of rose petals, slashing at the grimm's hindquarters with her scythe. The karkadann shrieked and lashed out with its hind leg, kicking Ruby square in the chest to send her sliding across the ground. But while it did so, Pyrrha had escaped from out of reach of its horn, slashing furiously at its forelegs with Miló in sword-mode.

Another of Camilla’s fire dust arrows blossomed in flame above the karkadann’s head.

"Jaune, get to Ruby!" Sunset snapped. After two nasty hits, her aura could probably do with a boost.

"Right," Jaune said, but the karkadann stood between him and Ruby, and if it couldn't understand what Sunset had just said, it could sense their intent nonetheless, because it seemed to plant itself between the two of them, roaring in Jaune's face as he tried to reach Ruby’s side.

Pyrrha hurled herself upon the beast; Akoúo̱ was slung across her back, and Miló was in spear form; she gripped the weapon in both hands as she slashed with it like a polearm, clashing against the karkadann's horn as though the grimm were some tournament rival with a serrated blade. The grimm rounded on her, thrusting at her with its horn, trying to trample her beneath its mighty feet, but Pyrrha was too swift for it, and too nimble. The sunlight gleamed off her armour as she parried every thrust of the horn, her red sash whirled around her as she leapt away from every blow meant to crush her, jabbing with her spear, and whether she struck bleach bone or black mass, she had the karkadann's attention now. The grimm paid no attention as Jaune rushed around it to Ruby's side and covered her body with a golden glow from his hands as he stimulated her aura.

"Cinder, cover them," Sunset snapped, gesturing their way.

"Understood," Cinder replied and dashed around the karkadann to place herself between Ruby and Jaune and harm in case the karkadann grew bored with Pyrrha.

Sunset teleported, emerging above the creature, descending the couple of feet to its back. She balanced precariously between the bone spikes jutting upwards, wobbling as the grimm shifted in place, and jammed her weapon downwards into the nape of its neck, then she fired her fourth shot for good measure.

The karkadann roared, pain and fury mingling in its cry, then it reared, immense forelegs thrashing, kicking at the empty air as its back became practically vertical. Sunset lost her grip on Sol Invictus, then on the spine spike for which she had reached instead as she was hurled off the back of the karkadann and landed in a heap on the ground. Sunset scrambled to her feet as the karkadann slammed its forelegs into the ground so heavily that the earth trembled, and all of her companions of the hunt were jolted off balance by the trembling.

Jaune cried out, "Sunset, I have an idea. Can you hold it for an Arkos Spin?"

Sunset huffed. Can I hold it for an Arkos spin? Can I hold it? Yes, I can hold it; have some faith in me! "Of course I can hold it, get ready. Pyrrha! Fall back!"

Pyrrha didn't question. The moment Sunset's words reached her ears, she retreated, backflipping to the rear faster than the karkadann could pursue.

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl, and she shouted in anger as she fired bolt after bolt of green magic into the monster's hindquarters. "Here! Here, come at me you sorry, stupid, pathetic fake imitation unicorn! Come and get me!"

Her magical attacks didn't seem to cause the karkadann visible harm, but judging by the way that it swung its head back to glare at her, she'd certainly made it angry.

That was the general idea. This thing was tough. It was old and strong, and their best hits didn't even seem to be slowing it down. They needed something special to kill it, something special like the 'finishing moves' that they'd started devising specifically for big, tough grimm just like this one.

The karkadann began to turn its head back towards Pyrrha before Sunset hit it with another burst of magic from her palms. "Oh no you don't. I'm the one you want," Sunset growled. "Look at me, only at me." She continued to fire magical blasts, which did little except irritate the grimm - in fairness to Sunset, she wasn't exactly giving it full power; she had to conserve her magic for what was about to come - enough that it ignored everyone else and wheeled about until it was facing down Sunset, ready for a charge.

Sunset grinned. Watch closely, Lady Nikos, and marvel at what a great team we are.

She held out her hands and stretched out all her power, wrapping it around the karkadann's head like a lasso and pulling down hard upon it with her telekinesis. It was a struggle; it always was when you were talking about a living target, especially one as strong as this one. The karkadann fought back; it resisted; it tried to rear up; it tried to move its neck. But gradually, inch by excruciating inch and foot by exhausting foot, as sweat dripped from her every orifice, Sunset forced this monster's head downwards until... until the lance-like horn was pointing straight at her.

Pyrrha and Jaune were circling around the karkadann now, the two of them slowly closing in on one another, but the beast didn't notice either of them. No more did it notice Ruby, who was circling the karkadann on the other side, or any of the others who waited warily but did not interfere. All that it noticed was Sunset, whom it stared at with naked hatred in its eyes.

It charged at her. Sunset was only holding its head down, not the rest of it still. It charged at her, intent upon smashing through her aura and impaling her upon its massive horn.

Sunset let it come. She let it come as the earth shook and its feet pounded on the ground. She let it come, and then, at the last moment, she turned aside and grabbed the onward-thrusting horn with both hands, and she held on.

She held on as the serrated edge tore at her aura. She held on as the karkadann fought to raise its head. She cast a heavy-gravity spell, an inverse of the reverse-gravity spell she could use to get herself in the air, to weigh herself down. Even so, the grimm's strength was amazing; Sunset gasped as she felt her magic disappearing as she held on.

Cinder came to her aid, swords in hand, burying both blades into the black oily flesh of the karkadann's neck and hauling downwards upon it, her arms straining as she pulled.

Camilla loosed a quartet of arrows in swift succession, arrows tipped with ice dust that landed one by one at the base of the karkadann’s legs, where the blue dust erupted forth in spiky crystalline icicles, freezing the grimm’s feet to the ground and binding it fast.

"Pyrrha!" Sunset shouted. "Now!"

For Pyrrha Nikos, time seemed to slow as she charged forward across the grass. There was no hesitation. No doubt. They had planned this, they had practiced this, and it was going to work. In a few heartbeats, this would be over. She felt as she had felt so often in the arena, when she had seen with perfect clarity what needed to happen and all that remained was to make it so, when her heartbeat slowed to a calm pulse and all the world slowed with it.

One heartbeat, two heartbeats.

Her loping gait carried her across the grass. Akoúo̱ was slung across her back, and Miló was in sword form in her hand.

Three heartbeats.

"Pyrrha, catch!" Jaune cried as he threw his own sword towards her. Pyrrha caught it deftly in her off hand.

Four heartbeats.

Pyrrha leapt into the air. Jaune lifted his shield up over his head, his knees bending.

Five heartbeats.

Pyrrha landed gracefully upon Jaune's shield, resting both her feet upon it like a diving board.

Six heartbeats.

Pyrrha's knees bent, and she felt - rather than saw - Jaune's semblance stimulating her aura, strengthening her legs, increasing the power at her command. He bent, and she bent, and her legs overflowed with power.

Seven heartbeats.

Pyrrha leapt. Jaune rose up, using his whole body to fling her upwards, even as Pyrrha jumped with a strength enhanced by Jaune's stimulation of her aura.

Eight heartbeats, nine heartbeats.

Pyrrha rose into the air, a cool sensation washing over her face. She closed her eyes.

Nine heartbeats.

Pyrrha opened her eyes again as her leap carried her upwards. She began to twist her body with a grace that a gymnast or dancer might have envied.

Ten heartbeats.

Pyrrha began to fall.

And as she fell, she spun.

She descended, spinning in the air as she did so, her sash wrapping around her waist, the light glinting off her swords. She fell like a thunderbolt from heaven upon the neck of the karkadann and, spinning, sliced clean through its neck until she landed with a pounding thump upon her feet and the grimm's lifeless trunk thumped to the ground beside her.

Sunset let go of the creature's head as it began to dissolve into smoke.

Then she whooped as she raised her hands. "And that," she declared, "is how team Sapphire does it!"

Cinder clapped her hands together once. "A formidable performance," she said. "You are all exactly as formidable as I thought you would be."

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. Cinder Fall had never been less than polite, but nevertheless, there was something about her that Pyrrha didn't like. Actually, there was more than one thing, and Pyrrha could name them: her arrogance, her unabashed contempt for other people, a philosophy that left Pyrrha wondering why someone like her would want to become a huntress... and perhaps too the many uncomfortable ways that she reminded Pyrrha of Sunset. What Sunset had been and what she might become again. Pyrrha didn't want to lose her friend to the influence of one who was too like her for comfort; nor did she really want to be reminded of what Sunset had been. Sunset... Pyrrha meant no insult to say that she felt as though Sunset needed the company of the good to be good, and Cinder Fall had too much about her that seemed not good to Pyrrha for Pyrrha to feel easy in her company.

Her thoughts were derailed from that, however, by the approach of her mother.

Pyrrha's back straightened. "Mother."

Her mother was silent for a moment. "Your individual skill has not improved since I last observed you."

"No, Mother."

"But that last... your forethought is to be commended as your coordination is to be envied. Well done. Well done, all of you."

It was all that Pyrrha could do not to sag with relief. "Thank you, Mother."

"Yes, thank you, my lady, you honour us with your praise," Sunset said, bowing.

"I honour you with nothing but your deserving," Lady Nikos.

"That is kindly said, my lady," Sunset replied.

"Can what you deserve be kindly given?" Camilla asked. "As Lady Nikos says, you deserve thanks. Not only from Lady Nikos but from Mistral.” She sheathed her blade. "I know not if Mistral will grant you its thanks, but for my own part and on behalf of the Rutulus family, you have my thanks." She bowed to Pyrrha. "Champion of Mistral indeed."

Pyrrha felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It was an effort by our entire team."

"And what a team you are," Cinder declared. "Team Sapphire is certainly a team to keep an eye on, and if the world doesn't already know it, then I have a feeling that it soon will."

Author's Note

I know that some of you are probably disappointed that it wasn't the Nuckelavee, to which I have three things to say:
1) I couldn't quite bring myself to steal the only character development that Ren and Nora ever get in the first five volumes and give it to SAP
2) I'm honestly not sure the three of them could beat the Nuckelavee at this point; remember that RNJR had grown a lot and gotten much stronger over the course of four volumes, especially Jaune.
3) The idea of Sunset fighting essentially a demonic unicorn (karkadann is the Arabic for rhinocerous and unicorn) tickled me too much to pass up.

Rewrite Notes: This chapter expanded; Camilla and Ruby joined the party but the big expansion was in the conversations around the campfire, as Cinder got a moment with Jaune and Pyrrha as well as Sunset.

An Early Close (Rewritten)

An Early Close

After that, things quietened down quite considerably.

Most especially this was the case with the grimm situation; what had appeared to be a tide of darkness creeping across Anima, that had seemed as though it might not stop until it lapped against the walls of Mistral itself, began to recede. It was as if the karkadann, getting as close to Mistral as it had, represented the high watermark of the efforts of the grimm to overthrow the ancient kingdom and its defences.

Over the next few days, the news was full of reports of deliverance, of the grimm that had menaced this village or that retreating into the hinterlands from whence they had emerged, withdrawing back into the wilds and leaving the fertile lands of men for men to dwell in. Huntsmen pursued them where it was safe to do so, and according to the reports, they slew many of the beasts as they made their trek back into their traditional hunting grounds.

The defeat of the karkadann – attributed, of course, to Pyrrha, a fact which irked Sunset not at all – seemed to many in Mistral to mark the turning of a tide. In the wake of their battle, huntsmen and members of the Imperial Guard began to trickle back into the city as the danger to the far-flung limits of Mistral’s territory receded.

This was not to say that the two weeks that followed were dull or that nothing happened during that time. Plenty occurred during those days: training in the morning, seeing the sights and delights of Mistral during the day, dinner – whether it be formal in the company of Lady Nikos or informal as a team – in the Nikos’ family’s luxurious dining hall in the evening, or else some high class entertainment of one kind or another.

One night, Pyrrha took them to a performance of The Opera Ghost, the hit musical by the celebrated Mistralian playwright and entertainer Autumn Blaze. It turned out that Pyrrha’s mother was a patron of the theatre – of course she was; she was an aristocrat – and Team SAPR were ushered by an usher into a private box set high above the stage, where their view was restricted by nothing and they didn’t have to rub shoulders with the masses in the gallery below.

It reminded Sunset, as she sat down and smoothed out her dress, of when she had attended the theatre or the opera alongside Celestia. They hadn’t gone very often; Celestia did not particularly enjoy the performing arts and only attended sufficient events so as not to seem reclusive, but when they did, they had occupied a box like this. Sunset remembered that, when Celestia entered, the orchestra in the pit would start to play a fanfare, and all the ponies down below would rise to their hooves and cheer for their beloved princess; and Sunset would stand beside her and dream of the days when they would cheer for her just as loudly.

She half-expected the crowds to start cheering for Pyrrha, but it appeared that that was not quite the way of things in Mistral, although certain people – in the other boxes, for instance – did stare at her as she made her entrance, dressed in an emerald gown that matched her eyes, with a scarlet shawl trimmed with golden thread draped around her shoulders and diamonds glistening upon her wrist.

Pyrrha had clearly seen the show already. If nothing else had proved that, the fact that she started mouthing the lyrics to the romantic duet between the innocent ingénue and her aristocratic lover would have.

“Yes, I have seen it before,” Pyrrha said, as they left, descending the stairs down from the box. “In Vale, before the start of last semester. But I had heard it was even better with the original cast, and I think they were right about that.” She smiled. “What did you think? Did you all enjoy it?”

“She should have ended up with the ghost,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Sunset replied. “He was so much more interesting than the bland guy she chose.”

“Because she loved him,” Pyrrha said.

“But the Ghost was so cool,” Sunset declared.

“Don’t you mean creepy?” Ruby asked.

“No, I mean cool,” Sunset insisted. “He had brooding charisma to spare.”

“He kidnapped and murdered people!” Ruby cried.

“So?”

“He didn’t love her,” Pyrrha said. “He was obsessed with her, but that isn’t the same thing as love. She loved the count, and he loved her.”

“And besides,” Jaune added, “he was rich and noble. He could take care of her. What could the Ghost offer her, living beneath the opera house?”

“Would that matter, if they loved each other?” Sunset demanded.

“No,” Pyrrha answered. “But they didn’t.”

Nor was that the only exposure that Pyrrha offered them to the high end of Mistralian culture. In addition to complimentary tickets to the theatre, there were invitations to galas and fashion shows and charity balls. The entire team did not attend every single one of these events – Sunset used her experience of Canterlot society to guide Jaune and Ruby in which were likely to be worth going to and which would be intensely boring – but she always accompanied Pyrrha if the opportunity arose. It was nice to go along to some of these things and soak up the Mistralian culture, to dress up a little and remember a time when her life had been a blizzard of events just like these.

I think this place is making me homesick.

You know that the offer to come home is always open, right? I mean, as much as the magic mirror allows, I suppose. Do you know when it will be open next at your end?

No, but I'm sure Celestia knows when it will open next at your end. Not that it matters. There's a difference between being homesick and wanting to come home.

I know what you mean. I didn't realise how much I missed my brother until I found out that he was getting married.

That sounds more like jealousy to me.

I was not- you're impossible.

Oh, calm down, I'm just messing with you. But I’d expect you to get on with Cadance; other you does.

Oh, yes, Cadance and I get on great; but when I first heard that my brother was marrying Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, all I could think was that I was about to lose my brother to some mare I didn’t know. The fact that she turned out to be my old foalsitter – eventually – was a really welcome surprise.

Sunset snorted. You know, Princess Celestia asked me to do some foalsitting a couple of times, but I always refused. Maybe if I’d done it, I’d be a princess, too.

I don’t think that’s the reason why you didn’t become a princess. Sunset, can I ask you something?

I don't guarantee an answer to any question, but go ahead.

Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose, and Jaune Arc, those are your teammates, yes?

Sunset frowned. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that I already told you that. Did you forget?

No. It's just that it’s not only Pyrrha Nikos who is a Royal Guard here in Canterlot; there’s a Ruby Rose here too, and they have a friend named Jaune Arc who lives in the city.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Is he a royal guard as well?

No, I gather that he tried to get in but failed.

There’s a certain irony in the fact that the Royal Guard of Equestria, who did not see any real action during my life spent in the city, have more stringent entry requirements than the defenders of all life here in Remnant. So, what does Jaune do with himself, do you know?

Apparently, he's a Hero for Hire.

Sunset couldn't suppress the grin on her face. He's a what?

That's what he calls himself: Jaune Arc, Hero for Hire. Ponies come to him with their problems, and he tries to help them. I think it's very admirable, really.

Sunset sniggered. Surely that depends on what the problems are. Is he rescuing kidnap victims or getting cats down out of trees?

Well, Ruby and Pyrrha told me they check up on him from time to time and make sure he doesn't get in over his head, so I doubt he's facing off against real villains, but frankly, I don't see that that matters, so long as he's doing something to make life better for those around him.

Sunset considered that. In her mind, it mattered because there was a difference between actually being a hero worthy of the name and just playing pretend, but she could also see Twilight's point, kind of.

In Equestria, there wasn't a lot of call for the kind of feats of arms that were expected from huntsmen and huntresses, so it was doubtful that the Jaune of Equestria would be facing off against anyone or anything truly scary, certainly not as frightening as the monsters that her Jaune fought against here in Remnant. Which was probably a good thing for him, all things considered.

But it doesn’t mean that he can’t leave Equestria a better place than he found it.

Maybe, but Hero for Hire is still a pretty ridiculous thing to call yourself if you ask me.

It might work better in the plural. But that's not really the point; the point is I thought you might like to know that there are doppelgangers of your comrades living here in Canterlot.

To be perfectly honest, just knowing that there are two Twilight Sparkles and two Rainbow Dashes was a bit much for my mind. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about this ever since you answered my first message in that diary. It was bad enough with Principal Celestia, and I could tell myself that was just a coincidence, but now, it’s starting to feel like a pattern.

Not just a pattern. If it were people with the same names, it would be a pattern, but doesn’t it strike you as something more that both Jaunes have a desire to be a hero, that both Pyrrhas and both Rubys are willing to risk their lives for the sake of others? Doesn’t it feel as though there must be some kind of cosmic essentialism at work here, something that proves some truth we cannot yet grasp about the nature of the self?

I don’t want to grasp it; it’s terrifying.

Everyone on Remnant had a counterpart in Equestria and vice versa? How? Why? Were they not separate worlds, joined only by a single portal? Or were they separate planes of reality, intimately linked but with travel between them nigh-impossible. And how joined were they? Had the human and the pony Jaune, Ruby, Pyrrha, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and all the rest been born at the exact same moment on two different worlds? Would they die at the same time as one another too? If Sunset's Pyrrha fell in battle, then would pony Pyrrha drop dead at her guard post for no discernible reason, or would she continue, shorn of her double like a shadow without a body? It was too much, too much to take in, too much to think about, too much to contemplate all in a single sitting like this.

It was... it verged on horrifying. Sunset had always taken comfort from the idea of an inexorable destiny: that every step she took, every failure that she might seem to suffer was, in reality, leading her inevitably towards a greater and more glorious future. But this... Sunset could see now why Pyrrha took comfort in the idea of a destiny that she would create for herself out of her own choices and effort. Because given what Twilight had just told her about the personalities of the pony alternates of her teammates, given how alike they were, despite having grown up in different worlds, in different circumstances, as members of different species altogether, well, then, what of free will? What control did any of them have over their own lives, when even the names they gave to their children were pre-ordained and put into their minds by some external force? It was terrible.

And what of Sunset herself? Was there some other Sunset Shimmer out there somewhere, another her she hadn't met, living another life... or was it the same life, driven by the same ambitions which would inevitably come into conflict with her own? Was Sunset a usurper in this world, or worse? If the two Sunsets met, would the paradox of their contract destroy reality, or had Sunset destroyed her alternate by venturing into this world from her own? What was the meaning of anything that she had done? What was the point of doing anything else when...?

Can we talk about something else, please? I really don't want to think about this.

Twilight obliged, though Sunset could tell that she was a little disappointed that Sunset didn't share her intellectual curiosity, but as far as Sunset was concerned, it was all very well for her; she wasn't the one having her world turned upside down. Or at least, she wasn't the one who was thinking about it that way. Still, fittingly for a princess of friendship, Twilight did the friendly thing and let the matter drop, and the two moved on - or back - to Canterlot and exchanging reminiscences of their time there, borne out of the way that Mistral stirred such memories of the place in Sunset.

She tried very hard to forget everything else about other Jaunes and other Pyrrhas and heroes for hire, all of it. She put it from her mind as she sparred, as Pyrrha showed them around Mistral, as she attended fancy functions.

The next day, Pyrrha took them all to the Mistral Coliseum, an ancient structure of stone arches piled on top of one another, layer upon layer, with bits of modern technology – like giant screens displaying the match going on within – bolted onto the archaic stonework. The square that surrounded the coliseum was full of tourists, snapping away with their scrolls flashing as they took pictures in what was, Pyrrha explained, one of the longest serving buildings in Mistral’s history; there were buildings as old, but only the palace was still in use and in its intended function what was more.

The air was filled with energy; Sunset could feel it, everyone converging upon the fighting ring pulsing with energy and anticipation. It was like a heartbeat, a heartbeat for the whole city. Or one of the city’s hearts, at any rate; Mistral was complex enough, Sunset felt, to have more than one.

Stewards tried to organise people into orderly queues through the turnstile gates, while women hawked a variety of traditional Mistralian snacks from off broad wooden trays.

As they approached, more and more people became aware that it was no less a figure than Pyrrha Nikos who had come amongst them, the champion returning to the place where she had made her name and reputation. Whispers spread throughout the crowd, people arrested their progress towards the gates, they turned towards her as the word spread outwards from around them.

“I would ask you to do… whatever it is that you did before,” Pyrrha muttered to Sunset out of the corner of your mouth, “but I’m afraid we wouldn’t get our seats if you did.”

“That might not be so bad,” Ruby murmured, pulling her hood up to hide her face from view.

Pyrrha put one hand on Ruby’s shoulder but said nothing. Perhaps she felt as though there was nothing she could say.

Fortunately, they were rescued from the attention of the masses by a steward, who pushed his way through the crowd towards them. “Lady Pyrrha,” he said, “a pleasure to welcome you again, though it be to the stands and not the arena.”

Pyrrha managed to muster a smile, albeit a smile with a very forced quality to it. “I can enjoy the sight of combat as much as anyone in Mistral, and more than some, I’m sure.”

“Of course,” the steward said. “If you and your companions will please follow me.”

They were led through the crowd to an entrance marked ‘VIPs Only’, which required a special keycard – the steward had one – to open it. From there, the four of them were led to another box, set high above the rest of the coliseum, aloof from the masses in the stands below as gods were from the affairs of mortal men.

“You have a private box here, too?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha laughed nervously. “You don’t expect my mother to watch me fight down below with the crowd, do you?” she paused. “Of course, I can hardly complain, being here. I must admit, I’m rather glad of the privacy.”

“Would you care for any refreshment, Lady Pyrrha?” the steward asked solicitously.

“Um, some candied fruit, thank you,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Right away, Lady Pyrrha,” the man said, bowing again before he departed.

Pyrrha looked away from her teammates. “This… this must seem terrible, mustn’t it? My taking advantage of my fame and position, even as I complain about them.”

“You’ve got a right to complain,” Jaune said. “That amount of staring would make anyone uncomfortable.”

“You’ve got a right to be fawned over too,” Sunset said as she flopped down onto a wooden seat. “I mean, you are a hero in this town.”

“I’m a celebrity,” Pyrrha corrected her, “and I probably shouldn’t take advantage of it to-”

“To what?” Sunset demanded. “To make sure that your friends have a good time? There’s nothing wrong with or immoral about that, and besides, doesn’t your mother pay for this?”

“I… well, yes, she does,” Pyrrha admitted.

“Let’s just watch the match,” Ruby suggested.

“Yes, let’s,” Pyrrha agreed, as she too sat down. “I wanted you to see a fight because, well, it’s such an important part of Mistralian culture, it would be almost a crime for you to come to Mistral and not see in the coliseum.”

“Will this be what the Vytal Festival is like?” Jaune asked. “This is a big crowd.”

“The Amity Coliseum is not quite as large as this – a consequence of it needing to fly,” Pyrrha explained, “but it does have some more advanced features that this arena lacks, on account of its advanced age. Not that it’s completely primitive!” she added quickly. “The ancients who built this place were very imaginative. For the anniversary of the Battle of the Kaledon Straits last year, they managed to flood the arena, and we fought in two teams from off wooden ships.” She smiled at the memory. “By the end of the match, we’d largely demolished both vessels, and we were left leaping from one stray plank of wood to another, trying not to fall into the water.”

“And did you?” Ruby asked, leaning forward. “Fall in, I mean?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I was almost dragged under by Oceana, one of the two fighters we’re going to see now. But I dove in before she could grab me and was fortunate enough to take her into the red before my breath ran out.”

Sunset looked around. The interior of the coliseum managed to preserve the bulk of its antique stylings even in the midst of more modern touches like the floodlights or the screens. The seats – even in the boxes like the one they were sat in – were hard wood, without cushions, and the edge of the box and the boundaries of the various stands were marked with stone, not metal. The arena surface on which the combatants would duel was flat and barren stone. Mistralian flags hung down from the top of the arena, fluttering gently back and forth.

The crowd packed the coliseum, thousands upon thousands of Mistralians high and low, dressed in robes and more modern, casual wear, buzzing with energy and anticipation as they packed the stands. This was not, to Sunset’s knowledge, a major fight; as she understood, it was a rather commonplace bout between two reasonable but not exceptional fighters, yet still, they were packing in the crowds as if this was the most important fight in the history of the arena. What would it have been like, she could only wonder, when Pyrrha had fought here?

“So… you said it’s not going to be quite so big?” Ruby asked nervously.

“Maybe not,” Sunset said, “but it’s going to be full regardless.” Full of eyes turned their way, watching them in all their glory.

She could hardly wait… if she got the chance.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, where she sat on the wooden bench between Jaune and Ruby. Her eyes were fixed upon the arena down below, and she gave no indication of whether she had changed her mind or not.

What can I do to convince you, Pyrrha?

What will convince you if that fight did not?

In ancient times, it had been the custom in Mistral for victorious generals and great warriors, when they had won some battle worthy of recognition, to go to the Temple of Victory and dedicate the spoils of their triumph to Victory herself. Now, the temple was mostly used to celebrate tournament champions – four times, Pyrrha had, as the price of her victory, been forced to climb into a chariot alongside an actress portraying Victory and be driven through the streets for people to cheer for on her way to the temple – but it had not wholly given over its original purpose. Pyrrha did not claim to be a general, nor would she rank Team SAPR's defeat of the karkadann alongside the feats of arms of the heroes of old, but nevertheless, she felt that the defeat of a grimm so close to the walls of Mistral itself was something that deserved to be honoured.

Their victory had not been certain, and had things gone differently, then it might have been ill even for Mistral itself and the victory being uncertain, Pyrrha felt that it deserved to have thanks given for it.

The form of the thanks was an awkward question where victories over the grimm were concerned: they left nothing behind after all, no trophy or remains that could be dedicated to the temple. Nor, to be perfectly honest, did a fake grimm seem like it would make a respectful offering. And so, Pyrrha, with her mother's permission, had commissioned from a reputable goldsmith a golden horse, about a foot high from its hooves to its shoulders, to serve as an offering to the temple.

It was quite a beautiful thing, worth every lien that Pyrrha – or her mother – had paid for it. Pyrrha's commission had been for something that represented not the beast they had killed so much as the four of them who had defeated it and now would make the offering, and as she held the golden horse in her hands, Pyrrha could not help but smile at how it had turned out: the gold itself was for Pyrrha herself, gold like the gilding on her armour, gold like the circlet that glimmered on her brow; the hooves were black onyx, like Ruby's outfit; the mane and tail of the horse were styled after Sunset's flaming hair and tail, streaks of red and yellow intertwined through cunning use of different varieties of gold; the eyes of the horse were sapphires, for Jaune's beautiful eyes but also in reflection of the name of their team.

Worth every lien indeed.

"That is very nice," Sunset said. "So nice it's a shame to stick it in some temple."

Pyrrha chuckled. "That is what makes it a worthy offering," she reproached Sunset.

"I'm sure it is," Sunset replied. "Doesn't mean I wouldn't rather keep it."

But she cannot have felt too strongly about it, because she didn't push the subject as Pyrrha led her friends through the streets of Mistral to the Square of Heroes, where Agrippa's Column dominated the centre of the square. They spent a little time admiring the column, carved all around with frescoes depicting the conquest of northern Anima, climbing up towards the marble statue of the emperor himself. Pyrrha told them all a little about the equestrian statues of Mistral's heroes past that marked the corners of the square and some of the most notable bronze and marble statues that lined the edges of the square on three sides.

On the fourth side of the square sat the Temple of Victory, their destination. High it rose, elevated above the square beneath upon a high stone dais one hundred and eighty-eight steps high, and the temple itself so immense on top of that that even Agrippa's Column was dwarfed by it. Marble columns fronted the temple, propping up a roof covered in gold that glittered in the morning light. More bronze statues – not of individuals now, but of idealised heroic figures, much like the two who dominated Beacon's courtyard – stood at the top of the steps as though keeping guard over the temple.

As Pyrrha led her friends up the steps towards the temple, it seemed almost as though those statues watched them come.

They climbed the steps – eventually – and passed between the towering columns of white marble and entered into the temple itself. It was dark, and the air was heavy with incense but also, Pyrrha thought, with the weight of history that dwelled within this place.

Sunset seemed to feel it too, because she shivered and muttered, "This place is full of ghosts."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha murmured, keeping her voice down out of respect, "but they are benign ghosts, I hope, friends to those who are friends of Mistral."

They walked down the central transept leading to the altar.

"Look at all these weapons!" Ruby gasped, for on either side of the transept, filling up the temple, were weapons and armour and other spoils of battles won and cities taken, all proudly displayed for any visitor to the temple to see.

"There are a great many reproductions in the museum," Pyrrha said softly, a slight smile upon her face, "but everything here is quite real. Every trophy here was brought by a victorious warrior and dedicated as a trophy of their triumph."

"Why?" Jaune asked. "Is there a god here?"

"In a manner of speaking," Pyrrha replied, keeping her voice down. "Not so much a god as the spirit of victory itself. The personification of it. We give thanks for her blessing… and leave behind us signifiers of the victories we won, that they may be remembered."

"Immortality," Sunset murmured. "Like your mother said."

"I suppose so," Pyrrha agreed.

As they approached the altar, Pyrrha pointed out to her friends a few of the most notable dedications within the temple; she made no mention of the 'spoils' she had dedicated as a result of her own triumphs, as they did not compare at all to some of what was stored within.

Soon enough, they reached the back of the dark temple, where braziers filled with fire dust crystals gave off a little light; a great gold statue of Victory herself, twenty feet tall, rose above them, casting a shadow over all who came near. Victory was personified as a young woman, tall – in proportion, not merely because of the great size of the statue itself – armoured for battle, with long hair falling down behind her head. She clasped a shield before her, both hands resting upon the rim. Her head was bowed, allowing her to look down upon those who approached the altar.

"She kind of looks like you, Pyrrha," Ruby pointed out.

"Uh, yes," Pyrrha conceded, feeling her cheeks heat up a little. "I, um… that is to say that I-"

"Modelled your image after Victory?" Sunset suggested. "Or did your mother decide that would be a good idea?"

"A bit of both," Pyrrha replied. "I must admit… a part of me enjoyed the idea."

Beside the altar of graven stone, decorated with friezes of battle and the hunt, stood a gaunt priest in plain white robes. "Pyrrha Nikos, Champion of Mistral," he intoned gravely. "Why have you come?"

Pyrrha's voice rose, ringing out clearly through the temple. "To give thanks for the victory of Team Sapphire over the karkadann that menaced our city. I have brought this offering," - she held out the golden horse - "and hope that it finds favour."

"Victory shall be the judge of that," the priest declared. "Place your offering upon the altar."

While her friends waited a few steps behind, Pyrrha approached, the dull light from the braziers glinting upon her greaves, and placed the golden horse, with a piece of every member of the team within it, upon the altar.

She stepped back.

"What happens now?" Sunset whispered.

"If the offering is unworthy, it will be flung from the altar," Pyrrha replied.

"Flung by who?" Jaune asked.

"I think something's happening," Ruby said.

The air within the temple changed. It became colder, sharper, crisper. It was as though there was a wind rising within the temple, though it was still outside and no breeze could penetrate so far within. Nevertheless, Pyrrha could feel it on her skin and brushing through her hair, hear a sort of whispering in her ear like a thousand voices clamouring for her attention… and she could see the golden horse upon the altar trembling, teetering back and forth, rocked by an invisible hand.

And then it stopped. The statue was still again. The wind died down, the atmosphere within the temple returned to normal, or at least for normal as it was within the temple.

"Your offering has been adjudged as worthy," declared the priest.

"What… what was that?" Jaune asked, as the four of them made their way out of the temple.

"I… I'm not sure I can explain it," Pyrrha replied. "I have… it has happened to me before, but that doesn't mean that I know what it is." She paused as they reached the temple columns. "Thank you for coming with me. I'm glad that we were able to do that as a team, for the victory of our team."

"Can we expect to have more victories as a team?" Sunset asked.

"Sunset," Ruby said.

"No, Ruby, I will not let this go; this is as much about Pyrrha's own good as it is about the team," Sunset declared. "Look me in the eye and tell me that we're not stronger together than we are alone."

Pyrrha did indeed look her in the eye, but not for the reasons Sunset might have expected. “You… you’re right,” she said, “and that is why…”

She trailed off as she caught sight of Terri-Belle Thrax waiting for her on the temple steps, her armour stained with dirt and grime, looking as though she had only recently returned from the field.

"Lady Pyrrha," Terri-Belle said. "Your mother told you I would find you here." The daughter of the Steward paused, a wry smile springing to her hard features. "She addressed me with less courtesy than she did before."

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "I apologise if my mother was-"

"She gave no offence, fear not," Terri-Belle assured her. "May I speak with you?"

"You can say it in front of us, my lady," Sunset said sharply. "For your business with Pyrrha concerns us all, after a fashion."

Terri-Belle frowned; she continued to look at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha said, "We may speak freely here, Lady Terri-Belle."

"Very well," Terri-Belle grunted. "If you wished to refuse me, you could have simply refused," she continued. "There was no need to mobilise your following against me."

Pyrrha blinked. "I… forgive me, Lady Terri-Belle, but I know not what you mean."

"I have only lately returned from Higanbana," Terri-Belle explained, "but in my absence, a great many messages have accrued decrying the idea that you should be denied the opportunity to represent Mistral in the Vytal Tournament. I am told it is a matter of national importance, touching upon the honour of Mistral." She scoffed. "Do not mistake me, I would like to see a daughter of Mistral triumph and knock those bloody Atlesians upon their arses, but I would not set it of greater import than the beowolf at the door."

"Neither would I," Pyrrha said. "But-"

"But the beowolf is no longer at our door," Terri-Belle added.

Pyrrha's eyes widened as it began to dawn on her that the arguments she had mustered in support of her decision - the arguments that Sunset had put to her with such conviction the night after she had first received the offer - might not be necessary after all. "You think that this is a permanent retreat."

"Not even a grimm studies professor can truly explain the behaviour of these monsters," Terri-Belle muttered. "For myself… you may say it is a judgment born of hope, but I do not think they will return again so soon." She smiled. "Which means my need of you is not so urgent, Lady Pyrrha; that being the case, who am I to stand in the way of the honour of Mistral?"

Pyrrha could scarcely believe it. She felt as though she had been delivered, saved not from peril but at least from the unpleasantness of having to make a difficult choice one way or the other. "You mean-"

"Consider my offer withdrawn," Terri-Belle said. "I will spare you having to refuse me." She paused. "You may return to your sanctuary at Beacon, for a little while longer. I wish you good fortune there. And I expect you to do Mistral proud in the tournament."

Pyrrha bowed her head, even as a smile played upon her face. "I will do my utmost to oblige, Lady Terri-Belle."

"I would expect nothing less," Terri-Belle declared. "I will not trouble you further. Good day, Lady Pyrrha."

"And to you," Pyrrha said, turning away from her and back to her friends. A joyous smile spread across her features. "I'm staying," she said. She repeated it again, louder. "I'm staying!" Staying at Beacon, staying with her friends, staying in the place where she had found happiness, staying… staying with Jaune. She was staying.

"Yes!" Sunset said, punching the air with delight. "I mean, I wish you would have listened to me, but a result is a result, right?"

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, it is. Although, if it makes you feel any better, I would have listened to you.”

“You would?” Sunset asked. “I mean, ahem, of course you would. My wisdom and logic were unassailable.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “They were; they really were. In any case, the decision is made now, and the fact that I didn't have to make the decision is less important than the fact that… that it is the decision I wanted all along."

"I'm glad you're coming back to Beacon," Ruby said, "and by the sounds of it, Mistral's safe now too, so everybody wins."

Pyrrha chuckled. "That is an excellent way to put it. Everybody wins."

She looked at Jaune, who was staring down at her from the higher step. He stepped down, coming closer to her even as he stopped looming over her. "I… I didn't want to tell you what to do. I didn't want to tell you that you couldn't be the hero that your people need you to be, or that you shouldn't. But now… now that I know that I'm not going to lose you, I can say how… how glad I am that I get to be a part of your life for a little longer."

Pyrrha felt tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes. "I… I'm glad too," she whispered as she let the arms of her teammates enfold her.

I am so, so very glad.

I am the luckiest girl in the world, without a doubt.

Pyrrha felt her step lightened considerably by the good news, and her step remained light for the rest of the day until she returned home and realised that she should tell her mother about Terri-Belle's offer and the subsequent withdrawal of the same. She had hesitated to do so earlier; she had, to be honest, been rather loath to do so, because she had feared that her mother would have strong opinions on the matter which Pyrrha would be unable to resist. Now, however, the matter had passed out of her hands. And besides, it seemed as though her mother already knew. And Pyrrha thought that she knew just how her mother knew.

She found Lady Nikos in the study, adding something else to the wall of Pyrrha's achievements.

"The karkadann, Mother?" Pyrrha asked resignedly.

Lady Nikos turned to look at her. "The karkadann indeed. The trumpet blast that heralded the Miracle of Mistral."

Pyrrha sighed softly. The Miracle of Mistral was what some had taken to calling the sudden withdrawal of the grimm. Pyrrha had to admit, there was a miraculous quality about it: the grimm had appeared from out of the darkness, seemingly unheralded, and then a short time later, they had departed once again, their threat vanishing like a shadow exposed to the light. "That was not my doing," she said.

"And yet, it followed on from your achievement," Lady Nikos said.

"Simply because it followed after does not mean it followed because," Pyrrha pointed out.

"True, but irrelevant," Lady Nikos replied. "Your victory is more than worthy of acknowledgement in its own right."

"My team's victory," Pyrrha said.

"I have conceded that they are not without skill," Lady Nikos muttered. "Was there something you wished to say?"

Pyrrha walked into the study and closed the door behind her. "I would like a word with you, Mother, yes, if you have a moment."

"I do, and a little more than a moment at this time."

"Thank you, Mother." Pyrrha remained standing as her mother sat down, and her mother did not invite her to do otherwise. She stood with impeccable posture before her mother's desk. "I met with Lady Terri-Belle Thrax again today; she found me outside the temple."

"Was your offering accepted?"

"It was," Pyrrha acknowledged. "Thank you, Mother."

"As I said, your victory was worthy of commemoration," Lady Nikos declared. "As for Lady Terri-Belle, I am not unaware that she had returned to the city and was in search of you."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "Did… did Sunset tell you that she had offered me a position with the Imperial Guard?"

Lady Nikos smiled. "Actually, that was Mister Arc, who let it slip from his tongue. I suppose Miss Shimmer wished to persuade you by herself, without needing to call on my assistance."

"You have judged her right, I think," Pyrrha murmured.

"She is a proud girl," Lady Nikos said. "A somewhat surprising trait in one of her race." She paused for a moment. "And yet, with all due respect to Miss Shimmer's pride, I am glad that someone told me what Lady Terri-Belle wished of you."

"Did you have to ask everyone to lobby against the appointment?" Pyrrha asked. "Lady Terri-Belle chided me for it, but that was you, wasn't it?"

"You are the most gifted warrior born in Mistral since the days of Juno," Lady Nikos declared. "You deserve the chance to shine upon the brightest stage in Remnant."

"What good is it to stand on a stage when the audience are being devoured by grimm?" Pyrrha asked.

Lady Nikos stared up at her daughter. "You have decided to accept Lady Terri-Belle's offer, then? And she has dared to continue offering it?"

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "I would have refused, if only because Sunset is correct when she says I am not ready, but… Lady Terri-Belle has withdrawn her offer. Following the Miracle of Mistral, neither she nor Mistral have urgent need of me any longer."

"I am glad that Lady Terri-Belle at least possesses sense," Lady Nikos murmured. "You would have refused it?"

"I would," Pyrrha repeated. "I am not ready yet to bear such weighty responsibilities. It would have pained me, but… I am glad that I am able to return to Beacon with a high heart and a clear conscience."

"'With a high heart and a clear conscience,'" Lady Nikos repeated. She snorted. "It is not the glory of the Vytal Festival that excites your heart to such heights, is it?"

"No, Mother," Pyrrha said calmly. "You know the joy of which I speak."

"Then you will be pleased to learn that Lady Terri-Belle is not the only one to have to come to a decision," her mother said. "I myself have decided to allow you to return to Beacon."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "Was that ever in doubt, so long as I myself wished to return?"

"Considerably, when you first returned home," Lady Nikos replied without a trace of shame or embarrassment. "I had given much thought to the notion of your transferring to Haven. After what happened last semester, I was far from convinced that it was the right academy for you after all or that your teammates were the right comrades for you for the next four years."

"They're not just my teammates; they're my friends," Pyrrha said. Some might have thought it ironic that she had been seriously contemplating tearing herself away from Sunset, from Ruby, from Jaune, only to find out that her mother had been contemplating the same thing. Nevertheless, despite that irony – if it could be called such – to discover the fact still pained and frightened her. The thought of being wrenched away from her friends had been enough when the wound was self-inflicted but to suffer it from her mother? Pyrrha felt as though she had only just begun to step out of the darkness and into the light of something brighter and more beautiful than she could possibly have imagined. She was willing to sacrifice that, to make that choice of her own will, for the greater good and out of her duty to Mistral… but to have it inflicted upon her by her own mother?

"Friendship does not make a champion or a warrior," Lady Nikos informed her. "No one will be remembered long after their death for how affable and good-natured they were, for how many friends they had."

"Their friends will remember them, with love and great fondness," Pyrrha replied.

"And when those friends are gone, then so will all memory of the friend that they remembered so fondly," Lady Nikos declared, "but a light dedicated to the pursuit of glory will light a flame eternal."

"A cold fire, mother," Pyrrha said. "One that gives no warmth."

Her mother stared at her, her green eyes cold. "I think your team leader, Miss Shimmer, might disagree with you."

"I like and respect Sunset, but I don't agree with her about everything," Pyrrha said. "Do you.. .do you wish that you had a daughter more like her than you do?"

"You are my daughter and a prodigy, a fact I would not chance for anything," Lady Nikos said. "I simply wish you would show more appreciation of the gifts the gods have blessed you with."

Pyrrha furrowed her brow. "Is this what you wanted to talk to Sunset about, when you summoned her into your study the day after she arrived?"

"It was."

"You told Sunset that you were thinking of keeping me here long before you ever told me." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"There was nothing that you could have done to change my mind."

"Then what did change your mind?"

"Your companions proved their worth to me," Mother said. "Mister Arc's skill at arms leaves a great deal to be desired, but he possesses a formidable semblance with which to support you. Miss Shimmer possesses an impressive array of skills. Miss Rose, I think, requires some seasoning, but she certainly does not lack either for courage or the raw ingredients of greatness. I must admit that it is unlikely you would have such a formidable team at Haven, even if you would not be transferring after one semester. I doubt that Professor Lionheart has three such students in his entire academy."

"No, Mother," Pyrrha agreed. They might not have the same reasons for saying so, but they both agreed, and in the present circumstances, Pyrrha was inclined to take what she could get. "I think that's unlikely."

Her mother looked down at her desk, her eyes lingering on the photographs that sat there. "What is it that you seek at Beacon, Pyrrha?" she asked. "Is it friendship or destiny?"

"Both, if fate will have it so," Pyrrha replied. "For the road to my destiny is one that is better travelled in company, I think. I know that the glories of the arena mean much to you, and I would like to think that I have obliged you in that regard, but my destiny is more than that, and worthier. And more and worthier than the Vytal tournament waits for me at Beacon. You ask me to appreciate the gifts I have been given, the talent I have been blessed with," Pyrrha continued. "I am. I appreciate them so much that I wish to use them for so much more than to aggrandise myself. I would use them to protect the world, to save it if it can be saved. That is my ambition. That is the destiny that I desire."

"A lofty goal, to be sure. Yet one well worthy of our noble line and of your talents. And for that, at least, you were willing to cast aside your friends, or you would have refused the Lady Terri-Belle outright upon her first asking."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I… I did not see how I could in honour or good conscience refuse, though my heart recoiled from it."

"Do your friends know this?" Lady Nikos asked. "Do they know that you will always choose destiny over their friendship?"

"I did not have to choose," Pyrrha replied. "I hope never to have to choose again."

"I am sure you do," Lady Nikos said, "but wishing will not make it so."

Lady Nikos did not join them for dinner that night, and the mood between the four of them was celebratory. They didn't dine in the dining room but sat in one of the living rooms around a low table, sitting on the floor with only thin cushions underneath them as they picked at bits and pieces from an array of bowls and pots of steaming food set out in front of them.

"A toast," Sunset said, raising her bowl. She glanced at said bowl. "A toast of sorts, at least, to Pyrrha Nikos, the pride of Team Sapphire, and to the right choice being made for her, just in case she wasn't wise enough to make it for herself."

"Thank you, Sunset," Pyrrha said. "I think."

"I like having you around," Sunset said. "It doesn't mean that I have to pretend you're perfect."

"It wouldn't be the same team without you," Ruby declared.

"Nobody could replace you, Pyrrha."

"Now you're all just flattering me," Pyrrha protested.

"Do you want us to keep going?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled.

"You think I'm joking, but I like my flattery to roll on for as long as possible," Sunset told her.

"I'm flattered enough already," Pyrrha said. "I truly am. I… Sunset, I know that you though I was planning to leave, but please, believe me when I say that I never wanted anything more than to stay with you, with all of you. The three of you have… you've improved my life in ways that I only dared to dream were possible. I'm so glad to call you my friends, and… and nothing but duty would ever have torn me away from you."

"Well, I for one am inclined to see the workings of something greater than ourselves in all of this," Sunset declared.

"Really?" Jaune asked sceptically.

"Hear me out!" Sunset cried. "Someone tries to take Pyrrha away from our team, citing the great threat that makes it necessary for her to leave us behind, get out there, and join the fight. Then… the threat vanishes. The skies are clear. All is at peace once more, and Pyrrha is thus freed to stay with us. Clearly, this team is fated to be together."

"That's… a little bit of a stretch," Ruby said, "but it does sound really sweet." She started to drink some tea.

"It does," Pyrrha agreed, "but I would have to believe in an immutable fate before I believed in it."

"Whether Sunset's right or not, it's great that we get to keep you," Jaune said. "Although I'm sure your fiancé must be disappointed."

Ruby spat her tea all over Sunset. "Ah!" Ruby cried, as the liquid dripped off Sunset's hair. "Sunset, I'm so sorry! I'll-"

Sunset held up one hand for quiet. "'Fiancé'?" she asked. "You're engaged? You kept that quiet!" She paused. "Seriously, it didn't get so much as a mention in the press; how did you manage that?"

"Is it a secret engagement?" Ruby asked. She frowned. "You could have told us! We would have kept your secret for you."

"There is no secret to keep," Pyrrha protested. "There is no engagement. Jaune… what are you talking about?"

Jaune frowned. "You… you're not engaged?"

"No," Pyrrha said, the firmness with which she intended to convey that fact mingling with her puzzlement as to why he thought there was. "Jaune, why do you think that I have a fiancé?"

"Well, your mother-"

"My mother!" Pyrrha interrupted him, rising to her feet. What had her mother told him? When had she told him? Why had she… was this after the party? It occurred to Pyrrha that she might get the answers to these questions more effectively by simply asking Jaune and letting him answer. "Jaune… what did my mother say to you? And when?"

"After the party," Jaune said, confirming at least one of Pyrrha's suspicions. "She said that… that you were engaged to be married, to a prince, someone… someone worthy of you."

Sunset folded her arms. "And that you should butt out; is that about the size of it?"

Jaune glanced nervously at Sunset and said, "Um… kind of."

Sunset and Ruby both stared at Jaune, the latter with an open mouth, the former with eyebrows that had climbed so high that they were hidden amongst her hair.

"I have been lied to plenty of times in the past, but that… that's impressive," Sunset said.

"It's horrible!" Ruby protested.

"Yes, but it's impressive in how horrible it is," Sunset replied.

"You mean… she was lying?" Jaune said. "You're not engaged."

"No," Pyrrha said. "I am not engaged. There is no fiancé. There is no prince." She turned away. She felt so angry. She'd never felt this angry before! How could her mother do this! It was enough to make her want to do something drastic.

Pyrrha stamped her foot upon the floor and let out a little mewling cry of outrage.

"Did, uh… did that make you feel better?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha sighed. "Not particularly," she admitted.

"Pyrrha," Jaune murmured, "I'm so sorry."

"You… you don't need to be sorry, Jaune," Pyrrha whispered. "This isn't your fault."

"We're still sorry," Ruby said. "Is there anything that we can do?"

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "You… you could start packing. I'm sorry to cut your vacation short, but… but…"

"But you can't stay in this house," Sunset finished for her. "I… I get that, I suppose. Although…"

Pyrrha glanced at her. "Is something wrong?"

Sunset hesitated. "No," she said. "I'll find us somewhere to stay for the night, and then an airship. There'll be something headed for Vale."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said softly. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with my mother."

Sunset winced. "Do you want some company?" she asked.

She did want some, but that was not the same thing as it being a good idea. "No," Pyrrha replied. "I'll be alright." I hope.

Sunset's expression was inscrutable. "Good luck up there."

Pyrrha nodded. Her whole body felt tense; she felt as if she were about to walk into the arena, except that no bout against any opponent she had fought on the circuit had ever made her feel this nervous. In spite of the fact that she had just eaten dinner, her stomach felt empty and cold. Her legs were heavy and only seemed to grow heavier as she walked.

Hestia told her that she could find her mother in the Master Bedroom, a large room dominated by an enormous four-poster bed with hangings of crimson and gold draped between the ornately carved wooden posts that resembled the marble columns of a temple. Lady Nikos was sitting upon the bed, her back supported by numerous cushions and pillows, reading a large, hardback book which Pyrrha did not catch the title of.

Nor, at the moment, did she particularly care.

"Mother," Pyrrha said as she walked into the room, her whole body trembling. "How… how could you?"

Lady Nikos looked at her from over the top of her reading glasses. "How could I do what?"

"How could you lie to Jaune that I was engaged?" Pyrrha demanded.

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. She snapped her book shut and set it down on the bed beside her. Slowly, she took off her reading glasses and placed them on the bedside table. "I do not consider what I said to be a total fabrication."

Pyrrha gasped. "You… you do not… I cannot believe… in what way?"

"Turnus-"

"I am not engaged to Turnus Rutulus, nor will I be!" Pyrrha cried. "Why, Mother, tell me that?"

"I would ask you in turn for your opinion of Mister Arc, but there is no need," Lady Nikos replied. "I saw the way you looked at him at the Steward's party. I… exaggerated your status in order to dissuade him. He has sufficient decency that he would not pursue you."

"'Sufficient decency'?" Pyrrha repeated.

"He is not worthy of you," Lady Nikos said.

"But lies are not unworthy of you, Mother?" Pyrrha cried. "Jaune is a good man, kind and brave and… and I don't care that he does not come from some grand Mistralian family or that he has no long line of ancestors to compare with mine. Kind hearts are worth more than coronets, and Jaune has the kindest heart of any man I have ever met." She breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling. "I don't know how Jaune feels about me," Pyrrha admitted. "But… but I do know how I feel about you at the moment. Goodbye, Mother." She turned away.

"Goodbye?" Lady Nikos snapped. "What means this 'goodbye'? Where are you going?"

"Back to Beacon," Pyrrha said. She did not look back, for she feared that if she looked back, then her resolve would crumble. "I have… endured much, Mother. And I will not deny that I benefit from much that I have endured. But this… this I cannot endure. And so… goodbye."

She walked away. Her mother did not try to stop her. She did not call out. She did not say anything as Pyrrha walked out of the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

"How was it?"

Pyrrha gasped. Jaune was waiting for her, out in the corridor, a sympathetic look upon his face.

"I know that you said you didn't need any company," Jaune said. "But… I wasn't sure that you should be alone."

Pyrrha stepped forward. "Thank you," she said softly. "You… you're so kind."

"I don't feel kind right now," Jaune said. "I feel kind of stupid. I should have known that you wouldn't keep something like that to yourself."

"I kept my semblance to myself," Pyrrha murmured. "Don't blame yourself; this isn't your fault."

"I guess not," Jaune said. "I just… I suppose I believed it because… "

Pyrrha walked a little closer towards him. "'Because'?"

"I believed that you were going to marry a prince because… because you deserve one," he said.

Pyrrha looked into his eyes. ‘He has sufficient decency that he would not pursue you.’ Does that mean that he would have pursued me otherwise? "Jaune," she said, ever so softly. "Why did my… why did she think she needed to… to dissuade you?"

Jaune did not reply at once. He looked at her. Slowly, gently, he reached out and took her hands in his. "Because… because I… Pyrrha I… oh, God, I hope you appreciate confidence." And then he kissed her.

She would have gasped in shock, but his lips were upon hers. She would have pulled away, but… but she didn’t really want to.

Or rather, she really didn’t want to. In fact, she came closer, pressing his lips against hers, feeling him wrap his arms around her, feeling… feeling as though nothing else in Remnant really mattered.

“I’ll be there waiting for you when you arrive,” Cinder said, her image on the surface of Sunset’s scroll. “Haven can be a little confusing to new visitors.”

“I think every Academy can,” Sunset replied. “So I’ll be sure to show you around Beacon when you arrive.”

Cinder chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“It’s the very least I can do,” Sunset replied. “Thanks for setting this up for us so quickly. Professor Lionheart must think a lot of you.”

“Or I’m the only student here, and he has no one else to talk to,” Cinder suggested. “Let’s go with that first one. Are you sure you’ll only need a room for one night?”

“I think so,” Sunset said. “Hopefully we can find an airship in the morning.”

“If not, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Cinder said.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Sunset said. “See you up at Haven soon.”

“I look forward to it,” Cinder replied, as she hung up.

Sunset folded up her scroll and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket. She was almost done packing, so-

There was a knock on the door.

Sunset looked towards said door. “Jaune? Is that you?”

“No,” the voice of Lady Nikos issued from the other side of the door. “May I enter, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset straightened and turned hastily to face the door. Her brow furrowed a little. She hesitated a moment. What Lady Nikos had done… it reminded her a little of Princess Celestia and the way that she had deceived Sunset; the fact that she and the princess were reconciled did not change the fact that it had hurt to find out that everything Sunset had thought and believed, everything that she had told, everything that had seemed so certain in her life had been nothing but falsehood all along. What Lady Nikos did was not such an order, but it was cruel nonetheless to lie to one’s child, especially when that child was someone like Pyrrha. And yet, Lady Nikos was their host until they took leave of her. It would not do to be rude.

“Of course. Please come in, my lady.”

The door into the guest room opened, and Lady Nikos walked in. In her right hand, she bore a sword, with only its long black hilt visible beyond the scabbard. The floor creaked a little beneath her stiff gait.

Sunset bowed. “Lady Nikos, you honour me with your presence.”

Lady Nikos sniffed. She did not speak for a moment, but instead looked around the room as though she were unfamiliar with some part of the furnishing of her own house. “You are leaving, then?”

“Did my lady think this was some sort of bluff on Pyrrha’s part?”

Lady Nikos hesitated and, in her hesitation, revealed that she had at least hoped that it was so. “Where will you go?”

“Thanks to the good offices of Miss Fall, we will find rooms at Haven Academy for the night,” Sunset explained, “and then tomorrow, fate and fortune willing, find an airship back to Vale.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos replied. “I am glad that you will not be spending the night in some low hotel somewhere in the lower reaches of the city.”

“Fortunately not, my lady,” Sunset said. “Although I fear that our circumstances might have forced us to it had Cinder not been able to come to our rescue.”

Lady Nikos cocked her head a little. “Your circumstances? Do you imagine that I will cut Pyrrha off in response to all of this, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset licked her lips. “The thought had crossed my mind, my lady.”

“That would be rather petty of me, don’t you think?”

“To speak plainly, my lady, I fear there are some who would say the same of exaggerating your daughter’s status in order to discourage an unwanted suitor.”

Lady Nikos snorted. “No doubt they would. Do you think that I have been harsh, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset breathed in deeply. “I think… my lady is entitled to her opinions on Jaune, as wrong as I may think them to be, but your deception was uncalled for.”

“All that I have done has been for Pyrrha’s own good,” Lady Nikos said. “No doubt, she thinks I have been harsh with her throughout her life. I am inclined to say I have been too lenient. Or why should she be as innocent and unworldly as she is now, save because I allowed it?”

“My lady has raised a goddess of victory,” Sunset declared. “In outer image and in inward substance. We are all of us formidable in our own ways and rights, but it is Pyrrha that our enemies fear by name and sight. She is, amongst much else besides and so much more, a token of our strength and prowess.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “But she would be so for any team to which she was assigned.”

“We are not any team, my lady.”

“No, you are not,” Lady Nikos replied. “I do not doubt that, in time, you too will be known and feared by name and sight, Miss Shimmer.”

“Such is my intent, my lady, though I thank you for your confidence.”

“May I ask why you didn’t tell my daughter of my possible plans for her?”

“I saw no reason to, my lady; I was always confident in my ability to impress you sufficiently as to render the possibility null.”

Again, Lady Nikos looked at her, as if she could divine what in Sunset’s speech was genuine and what was not.

Good luck with that, my lady.

Lady Nikos smiled, or at least stood upon the verge of it. “You are worthy to stand as a companion to my daughter.”

“She’s worthy of me too, my lady,” Sunset said, because she had a reputation for ego to keep up.

Lady Nikos ignored the arrogance. “Do you think that Pyrrha will ever forgive me?”

Sunset nodded. “I do, my lady. Pyrrha has a generous heart, and those far less generous have forgiven far worse offences.”

“I hope you are correct,” Lady Nikos said. “I do not approve of her infatuation, but she remains my daughter, heir to myself and my house, the hope of my line and of my kingdom.” She paused. “In your home, where you were taught your manners, were you taught any tradition of guest gifts, given by a host when a guest departs?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed just a tad. “I fear not, my lady. Where I come from, a host might give a gift to a dear friend they saw too infrequently, but there is no custom to govern such things.”

“It is an old notion, and little practiced nowadays,” Lady Nikos declared. “Yet you have been a good guest, and I believe that you will appreciate one and make good use of the other.” She held out the sword, with its hilt as black as onyx. “This blade was carried by Achates, the Emperor’s most faithful bodyguard, during the Great War. He was carrying it when he was slain by the King of Vale during the Battle of the Four Sovereigns. Legend says he stabbed at the king with it in defence of my ancestor and was the only man on that field to succeed in striking that great warrior. Take it, to defend my daughter at the last resort.”

Sunset’s eyes were wide. Her hands hovered, halfway to the blade as her feelings stood halfway between greed and hesitation. “My lady… you offer me a treasure of your family after so short a time that we have known each other?”

“Don’t be melodramatic, girl. I offer you nothing of provenance from the family itself, only our retainers.”

“If you see me as one of Pyrrha’s retainers, then perhaps I would do better to refuse the gift.”

“I see you as one of my daughter’s comrades in arms,” Lady Nikos clarified. “I offer this to you as a token of my respect, a respect which I did not expect when I welcomed you into my home.”

Sunset did not look at Lady Nikos, but rather at the sword as her hand closed around the hilt. Words in a tongue so ancient that Sunset could not read it were inscribed in silver upon the crossguard, and a polished onyx was set in the pommel. It fitted her hand well, this relic of the Great War, this weapon of antiquity. She drew the blade. It too was black as midnight, a long, straight blade, double edged and sharp. The darkness seemed to absorb the light. “Does… does it have a name, my lady?”

“It does,” Lady Nikos said. “It’s name is Soteria, meaning 'preservation from harm.'”

“A fitting name for the sword of a bodyguard,” Sunset murmured. She resheathed the venerable blade. “I will bear it with honour, my lady; that, I vow to you.”

“I hope so,” Lady Nikos said as she produced something else from out of her sleeve. “Although I admit that this may be of slightly more use to you on a day to day basis.”

After the ancient sword, Sunset had not been expecting a credit card, yet that was the second item that Lady Nikos produced from out of her sleeve.

“There is a sum already added for initial purchases,” Lady Nikos said, “and a smaller amount will be added each month for dust supplies and the like. I will be checking the statements to see that you are spending this on vital equipment.”

Sunset’s gaze flicked rapidly between the card and the face of the older woman. Her voice became a little colder, and sterner besides. “My lady, just because my means are limited does not mean that I require charity.”

“I would not call this charity.”

“Then what would my lady call it?”

“An investment,” Lady Nikos said. “In a skilled huntress, that the Invincible Girl may have a shield-companion who can fight beside her at the very peak of her effectiveness. You have skill, Miss Shimmer, but you could do more. We have discussed your wearing some armour; I believe that you could profit by the use of dust as well.

“We are fortunate, my daughter is fortunate, to come from an old line rich not only in history but in wealth also, but do you know what irks me the most, Miss Shimmer?”

“I cannot imagine, my lady.”

“When ignorant commentators claim that my daughter’s success is wholly down to the privileged circumstances of her birth.”

Sunset considered the point. “I think… were she given the opportunity, Pyrrha’s talent would carry her high regardless, my lady, but… if you will excuse me, would she be given the opportunity?”

Lady Nikos did not respond directly. “Greatness should not be constrained by anything so mean as material circumstances. Take the card. Take it and be all that you have it in you to be.”

Sunset plucked the card from out of Lady Nikos’ hand. “I shall, my lady, and thank you.” She paused. “But, if I may say, you are being extraordinarily generous, considering the circumstances of our leave-taking.”

“No matter what words may pass from Pyrrha’s lips, no matter how she may hate me, she is still my daughter,” Lady Nikos reminded Sunset. “My daughter, my heir, the hope of my house and of our kingdom. Do you ever look at me, Miss Shimmer, and think that I am grown old before my time?”

Sunset said, “I think that my lady has had a no doubt stressful life-”

“Less stressful than some who seem in a better state of health than I, no doubt,” Lady Nikos interrupted her. She paused. “Pyrrha has such fire in her. Such strength. I felt it from the moment she was born. I felt… drained. I knew then that I would give my husband no other children, for all the strength that was in me had passed into Pyrrha. I gave strength to Mistral… and kept none for myself. And yet… she is all I have, Miss Shimmer, and yet, she has ventured forth upon the path of a huntress, where the road ahead is uncertain.” She said something in a language that Sunset did not understand.

Sunset frowned. “Forgive me, my lady; I do not speak your tongue.”

Lady Nikos smiled, but briefly. “'They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return by mountain or by sea.'”

“I did not think the White Tower was so old, my lady.”

“There was an old tower where the current CCT stands,” Lady Nikos explained. “Miss Shimmer, I trust you to fight alongside my daughter, to see that she stands not alone against her enemies… and may I ask that you also advocate for me on my behalf?”

Sunset did not reply for a moment. “I am Pyrrha’s friend and leader first and foremost, my lady.”

“I would be disappointed if you were anything else,” Lady Nikos said. “But, if you will, speak well of me to her. Pyrrha is a stubborn girl; I would have you urge her to see sense.”

Sunset closed her eyes. No matter what Celestia did to me, I was unhappy when I thought… I was happier when we were reconciled than I was before. It may be the same with Pyrrha. “I do not promise success, my lady… but I promise that I will do all I can: to strive beside her with all my might and to counsel her with all my wisdom.”

“That is all I ask, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said, “and to hear it gives me comfort.”

Pyrrha sighed as she put her case down at the foot of the bed in which she would be sleeping tonight in Haven Academy. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said.

“Sorry?” Sunset repeated. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re the one…” Jaune trailed off for a moment. “The one who’s suffered,” he added quietly.

“This isn’t how I wanted our vacation to end,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“So it’s ending a little sooner than we expected,” Sunset said. “We still had a great time, right?”

“Yeah!” Ruby said enthusiastically. “Saw some sights, fought some grimm, what more could we ask for?”

“And if you want to leave, that’s fine by us,” Jaune said. “So long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

Pyrrha looked at them, all looking at her with such concern and consideration in their eyes: sweet Ruby, proud Sunset, wonderful Jaune, all of them

I’m so blessed, she thought. And so fortunate to have been delivered from leaving them behind. I… I don’t know what I would have done without them in this moment. She might have left her mother’s house behind, but as long as they were with her, she was not alone.

And she never would be.

Author's Note

Right, there will one more chapter with Ruby and Yang and then this vacation arc will be over and it will be into the volume 2 stuff.

Rewrite Notes: So, this chapter got a lot longer. Arkos happens earlier (chronologically, if not in volume of words) and Pyrrha gets the chance to stand up to her mother as Lady Nikos' lie to Jaune comes out pretty quickly, all things considered. Sunset recieves her sword, now named Soteria, from Lady Nikos in place of the dagger which she got in the original but never got a lot of use out of.

Quoth the Raven (Rewritten)

Quoth the Raven

“I’m sorry you had to come home early,” Yang said, “but not too sorry that you’re back. I did miss you a little bit while you were away in Mistral.”

“You could have asked me to stay,” Ruby pointed out.

“I don’t need you around that much,” Yang protested. “I’m your big sister, and I love you, but I’m not going to fall apart without you in my life.” She grinned. “Besides, it was a good thing for you to take the opportunity to get out, spend some time with your friends, see a different part of the world. Although I kind of wish you hadn’t had to fight any grimm while you were doing it,” she added.

“It was just the one.”

“Just the tough one,” Yang corrected her. “But, it’s dead now, so…” She chuckled.

Ruby frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing really,” Yang admitted. “It’s just that I’m the one who wants to get out and see the world, travel, fight some monsters… and yet, you’re the one who ended up doing it already, and on your first break from first year, no less.”

Ruby grinned. “I guess that is kind of ironic.”

“It’s just what comes when one of us is on a team with a Mistralian princess and the other is not.”

“Don’t call her that,” Ruby said, softly but not without a certain firmness in her voice. “Pyrrha wouldn’t like it.”

Yang looked down at her little sister. “Come on, Rubes, you know I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know,” Ruby assured her. “But Pyrrha… she can be sensitive about this stuff, and… I don’t think she always knows when people are joking.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Yang admitted. She held up her hands. “Okay, she won’t ever hear me say anything like that.”

It was evening, approaching night time. Dinner for those students remaining on campus for the vacation – or back early from the same – had already been served, and the stars glittered in the sky above, surrounding the shattered moon which loomed so large over their heads. Ruby and Yang sat beneath a green tree, its leaves in the full bloom of spring, said leaves rustling gently above them as a breeze ran through the courtyard and caressed their cheeks as gently as any mother could have. They had their backs to the gnarled old trunk; Ruby could just about feel the ridges through her cloak.

“Thanks,” Ruby said quietly. “Pyrrha… doesn’t deserve it.”

Yang nodded. A frown creased her features. “So… she’s with Jaune now, huh?”

“I… think so?” Ruby said. “It’s… hard to say.”

“Ruby, they were holding hands,” Yang pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re… I don’t think they’ve made any plans to… you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Yang replied. “But at the same time, I think they’re definitely what Nora would call ‘together-together.’ At least for now. Things change, I guess. Or they can.”

“I suppose, and I suppose you’re right.”

Yang put one arm around Ruby’s shoulder. “And how… how does that make you feel?”

Ruby looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Yang raised one eyebrow. “Come on, Ruby, I know that you liked him.”

“Of course I like Jaune; he’s my best friend.”

“Ruby,” Yang insisted. “Come on, who are you talking to?”

Ruby snorted, and then sniffed. “How did you know?”

“I’m your big sister; I know these things,” Yang said breezily.

“I would have thought you’d be a bit more obvious about it.”

Yang laughed. “Did you think I was going to threaten him? Come on, sis, I was saving that for when you started dating!” The smile died from her face. “But seriously, how does it feel?”

Ruby hesitated. She hesitated for quite some time, to be honest, because it took her that long to work out what the answer was. How did she feel? How did she feel about that in particular? “I… Jaune’s my best friend; he helped me find my feet on my first day here at Beacon – after you ditched me,” she couldn’t help but add. “And, yeah, I liked him. I do like him. He’s kind and brave and…”

Yang waited a moment. “And what?”

Ruby looked away. “I… nothing.”

“Come on, you have to say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“Probably, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you hold your tongue,” Yang declared. “Come on, Ruby, spill it.”

Ruby clasped her hands together and rather wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “He looks… he looks like the prince out of a romance comic, okay?”

Yang threw back her head so hard that she slammed it into the tree trunk. “Ow!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Yang said, as she started laughing merrily at Ruby’s expense. “He looks… you know, I can actually see that. It’s the long, floppy blonde hair, isn’t it?”

“And his eyes,” Ruby said. “But… yeah, the hair is a big part of it. He wouldn’t look the same without it.”

“I know, he’d look terrible,” Yang agreed. She sighed. “This probably doesn’t help, but I can see why you had a crush on him.”

“But you know who else was there for me on my first day here?” Ruby asked. “Pyrrha. She defended me when Weiss was yelling in my face, and she helped Jaune and me find our way, and she’s my friend too, and my teammate. And I’m not going to stop being her friend just because she’s happy. She deserves to be happy, Yang, and so does he. And if they’re happy together, then… then who am I to be unhappy about that?”

Yang’s grip around Ruby’s shoulder tightened a little. “You’ve got a good heart, Rubes; a lot of people wouldn’t be so… good about this. Hell, I don’t know if I’d be taking it this well in your position.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Ruby asked. “Try and break them up?”

“Well, we could-“

“No, Yang!” Ruby cried. “I’m not going to do that! And neither are you!”

“Of course not,” Yang said, only slightly disingenuously. “I was only kidding.”

“Good,” Ruby said. “Because like I said, they deserve to be happy. If things don’t work out, then… but Pyrrha just walked away from her mom over this. Jaune… I think he means a lot to her, and I think he really likes her too.” She sighed. “She’s lucky to have him. Where am I going to find a guy like that, Yang?”

“I… I don’t know, Ruby,” Yang admitted. “But I know that you’ll find someone, if you want to. Someone like you… you won’t be able to keep them away.” She grinned. “Although I won’t let that stop me trying.”

Ruby covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. “Thanks, Yang.”

“For what?” Yang asked.

Ruby shrugged. “Just being here.”

“Are you kidding? Where else would I be?” Yang asked. “I’ll always be here for you, Rubes.” She hesitated. “But… aside from that… I’m glad you had a good time.”

Ruby leaned her head on Yang’s shoulder. “Hey, Yang?”

“Would you like to read some more of Mom’s diary?” Ruby asked.

“You want to take your mind off things?”

“Maybe,” Ruby admitted.

Yang chuckled. “Sure. Do you have it?”

“Sure do,” Ruby said, pulling it out of one of the pouches on her belt. “Now… where were we…” she opened the little black book and flicked through the pages. “I think we’re here.”

Tai asked me for advice on how to ask Raven out. I didn’t know what to say. I barely knew where to look.

“Okay,” Yang said. “I’m not sure that we want to read that right now.”

“No,” Ruby agreed. They had tended to skim over the entries in the past dealing with Dad’s burgeoning crush on Raven or Mom’s crush on Dad. Even if it was the reason that they both existed, neither of them really wanted to read that stuff. Maybe it was because it was a bit awkward, what with Raven and all.

And right now, it was hitting just a little close to home.

Nevertheless, before she turned the page, Ruby’s eyes lingered on what immediately followed.

I don’t know how to write this without it sounding awful. I don’t know how to write this without sounding like a terrible friend. I want to simply give Tai the best advice I can and wish him the very best of luck with Raven, but I can’t. I can see why he has a crush on Raven: she’s beautiful and powerful and amazing in so many ways. But at the same time, I just wish that he would turn around and look at me.

Yeah, I don’t really want to read this at the moment, Ruby thought,

Ruby had always known that her mother and father and favourite uncle had attended Beacon, and she’d known on some level that they must have done all the same things that she and Yang and her new friends had done, walked through the same hallways, sat in the same classrooms. But reading it, hearing it in her mother’s voice, made it real in the same way that finding the STRQ carving on the SAPR dorm room had been more powerful than merely knowing that they had slept in a room like the one that she was sleeping in.

When she read about her Mom, in Mom’s own voice, she could imagine them all as clearly as she could see the places in her mind’s eye: the hallways, the courtyard, the cafeteria. She could imagine them there, and she could imagine herself and her friends following behind them like shadows.

We had an absolutely epic food fight in the dining hall today, Team STRQ against Team DMND, and we kicked their butts! Although Raven got a little carried away and nearly broke Nettles’ aura, but she said she didn’t mean any harm, and I believe her. Or at least, I’d like to. Professor Ozpin was really good about the whole thing; he said we should try to have some fun while we still can. He’s pretty cool about all this stuff, like the grandpa I never knew growing up…

Qrow asked me out today. He’s a cool guy, but I had to say no; I’m just not that into him. Tai told me I’d made a mistake…

Raven and I were really in sync in sparring class today; we went up against Celestia and Luna from Team CELO. Although individually, they’re not the best huntresses in our year, whenever they’re paired together, they’re practically invincible, like they can read one another’s minds. But Raven and I beat them; it was incredible! It’s so awesome that we’re really starting to gel as a team, and I think Raven’s starting to warm up to me. She even smiled after we won the fight, although when I tried to give her a hug, she pushed me away. I guess we’re not quite there yet…

Professor Ozpin called me to his office today for a special lesson; I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but Raven looked so jealous that I had to tell her that it was about my silver eyes. She calmed down a little after that, since she knew that, although I’m getting special treatment, there’s nothing she could do to get it as well.

We worked on training my eyes, just like I thought we would: how I can use them more at will, and without tiring myself out as much as I do now. The same sort of thing that Dad tried to teach me, only I think that, even if Professor Ozpin doesn’t have silver eyes himself, he knows more about them than my father does. Where we live, the way we live, all we have is scraps of half-remembered lore and some inscriptions that no one can decipher. Professor Ozpin knows things; he has knowledge, real knowledge. He gave me some books to take away with me and study: histories of my people. It’s fascinating, but with so much schoolwork, I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to actually read these texts.

We had our lesson. You know, now that I’ve just complained that we’ve lost so much knowledge, I should probably write down some of it. My family might be the last of our kind right now, or so Professor Ozpin says, but I don’t want to be. I hope – and maybe it’s stupid of me to hope, since the guy I like won’t even look at me – but I don’t want to fight until I die and leave nothing behind me. I mean, I’m prepared to die, but what’s the point in fighting to save the world if you’ve nobody to leave the world too? I’d like to leave something, someone, behind me,

Ruby smiled a little. “Family?”

“Ruby?”

“It’s just something Jaune said, when we were hunting the karkadann,” Ruby explained. “Cinder asked… it doesn’t really matter, you had to have been there.”

and so, for future generations of silver-eyed warriors, I leave this, the basics as I understand them.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “It’s here, Yang! Mom’s finally going to tell us what it’s all about!”

We've forgotten most of where we came from. Our history has been lost to fairy tale and myth and the half-remembered mutterings of old men. Maybe the Professor's histories will provide some answers, but I only got them tonight, and I haven't had the chance to read through them yet. What I do know is that those born with silver eyes used to be much more numerous than they are now - that wouldn't be hard, considering it's just me, my father, and my sister now - and we were chosen by destiny to lead the lives of warriors.

At least, that's what I've been told. Maybe there really is such a thing as destiny, and my fate - like the fate of all my people - is to spend my entire life in battle. Or maybe that was just what people thought because so many silver-eyes became warriors. I don't know, and Professor Ozpin couldn't say for certain either. He tells me that I have a choice to make, whether I want to devote my life to the greater good of the world and its people or not, but a part of me would like to think that all of this was planned out and foreordained years ago. It would mean that I was definitely on the right path.

Although it would also mean that nothing I did or chose really mattered. This stuff makes my head hurt.

Anyway, the powers of the silver eyes come from, wouldn't you know it, our silver eyes. When we feel especially intense positive emotion – love, friendship, the desire to protect life - our eyes manifest in power unlike any other. Professor Ozpin called it magic, even though he told me not to call it that in front of anybody else.

"Magic," Yang murmured. "Like in airport novels or something?"

"I suppose Professor Ozpin had to call it something."

"Okay, but why call it something made up?"

"It isn't made up; Mom could actually do magic."

"You know what I mean," Yang said. "Of course Mom could do... something that she'll hopefully explain in a second, but why name it after something made up? It makes the whole thing sound ridiculous."

"Maybe we'll find out if we keep reading?"

Yang chuckled. "Yeah, maybe. Sorry about that."

I asked the Professor why he called it that, when everyone knows that magic didn't exist, and he just smiled and said that not everything that everybody knows is correct. Professor Ozpin has been really kind to me, and it's great that he's teaching me how to master my gifts, but I swear, sometimes, it's as if he's trying to be mysterious on purpose.

The point of our lesson tonight was about control, I think that's what all our lessons are going to be about for the foreseeable future. Professor Ozpin showed me a video of me using my eyes against the grimm during initiation; it was the first time I'd ever seen what other people see when I use my powers, and let me tell you, if they weren't my powers, if I was watching someone else do this, I'd think it was so incredibly awesome. Light comes out of my eyes like wings, burning the darkness all away. But Professor Ozpin warned me that my powers come at a cost: they use so much energy that I'm really vulnerable after using them. Apparently, more than one silver-eyed warrior has died after being incapacitated by their own powers, devoured by grimm they didn’t destroy or who arrived after the blast faded. Professor Ozpin's tuition will focus on being able to use my powers without requiring an excess of emotion, so that I can use my abilities at will. Once I can do that, then we hope that practice will mean I'm not so worn out by exercising my ability.

Yang put one arm around Ruby's shoulders. "Ruby," she said. "That... I gotta be honest, that sounds kinda dangerous."

"'Chosen by destiny to lead the lives of warriors,'" Ruby murmured.

"Huh?"

Ruby looked up into Yang's confused-looking face and smiled. "People with silver eyes were destined to lead lives as warriors. So I was meant to come to Beacon, just like Mom was."

Yang grinned. "And to think, when last semester started, somebody didn't want to be special. Now who has normal knees?" The smile faded a little. "All the same, you can be special, and you can be a huntress and a hero without knowing anything more about your eyes. You can fight the grimm and save people with Crescent Rose and your semblance."

"Yes, but I could save even more people if I knew how to kill a whole bunch of grimm at once and-"

"And then what?" Yang asked. "You read what Mom wrote; after you did that, you'd be vulnerable."

"My team would be there," Ruby declared.

Yang didn't reply to that, but her expression spoke of scepticism, even if she wasn't quite willing to express it out loud.

"Do you want to stop?" Ruby asked, even though she didn't want to. She wanted to read more and find out more about how Mom had learned to master her abilities. But even more than that, she didn't want to fight with Yang. If this was starting to make her sister uncomfortable, then she was willing to leave it, for now.

“I…” Yang hesitated. “Yeah. I would. For now, at least.”

“Okay,” Ruby said softly. “Can I talk to my team about this? About the silver eyes, I mean?”

“Sure,” Yang agreed. “And if this is what you want, then… just be careful, okay?” She squeezed Ruby’s shoulder affectionately. “You have so many gifts, Ruby. You don’t need to risk yourself chasing one more.”

“In this world, the weak die, no matter how the strong attempt to coddle and protect them. If you have the opportunity to grasp power, then you should reach for it quickly, for the sake of your own security. Just be sure that you don’t allow others to make you a pawn of their designs, and thus take your power for themselves.”

Ruby gasped. That voice! She had heard that voice before, once, when she was very young.

The raven in the garden. The one that spoke to me.

She had thought… she had allowed herself to be convinced by others, and thus convinced herself, that she had dreamed that, but now, she heard that voice again. Was she dreaming once more? Or had it never been a dream at all?

“Oh, Summer child, you know nothing of your mother. But I will tell you stories of her, if you wish. But you must keep me secret and not tell a soul. If you break this promise, I will know, and I shall not return.”

Ruby had broken the promise. She had told Uncle Qrow about the talking bird, and he had become very quiet, and unexpectedly grim faced for a moment before telling Ruby that she had imagined the whole thing. Then he had stalked out into the garden for a while, and the talking bird had not returned.

But now, it was her voice that echoed through the night air.

Ruby and Yang leapt to their feet as a portal opened up in front of them. It was dark, and in the darkness, Ruby would hardly have seen the portal if it were not for the crimson border, pulsing with malevolence, that surrounded this tear, this hole in the world.

This hole from out of which strode a single figure. She – judging by the shape of her figure and the undulating waves of black hair, as long and thick as Yang’s own golden locks – was clad in ornate, Mistralian-looking armour of black and crimson, with a helmet that reminded Ruby uncomfortably of the masks worn by the White Fang, but while their masks only bore a superficial resemblance to the creatures of grimm, if Ruby hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that the helmet that this newcomer was wearing – the helmet that concealed the entirety of her face from view – had been cut entire from the head of some grimm that she couldn’t put a name to yet.

She was carrying a large sword at her hip, one of her armoured hands resting casually upon the hilt.

Yang took a step forward. Neither Yang nor Ruby were armed, but Yang clenched her hands into fists and threw one arm up in front of Ruby.

“If I wanted to harm your sister, Yang, you couldn’t stop me,” the armoured figure declared, “but don’t worry. I don’t waste time talking to my enemies.”

“If we’re not enemies, then who are you?” Yang demanded.

“You’re very brave, to speak to someone who might be an enemy that way, when you are unarmed and practically helpless.”

“Draw that sword, and you’ll see how helpless I am,” Yang growled.

“You didn’t get your courage from me,” the other figure said, continuing as though Yang had not spoken, “but then, it was clear that you always had more of your father in you.”

Ruby gasped. Yang’s eyes widened, and she lowered her hands a little, almost in spite of herself. She looked as though her breath had caught in her throat.

Ruby could understand why. Could it be? After all of Yang’s futile searching, here she was, in Beacon's courtyard?

Raven was here?

It hardly seemed possible. Yang’s voice, when it came, mirrored Ruby’s disbelief: it was softer, quieter, strained like credulity, wrung dry of its anger and soaked with a mingle of desperation and disbelief in its place.

“Who are you?”

The woman took off her helmet, revealing a pale face that was so alike to Yang’s own that it was uncanny. Her eyes were red, as red as Yang’s became when she was angry, which meant that they were as red as Yang’s eyes were right now.

Those eyes turned from Yang to Ruby. “You have your mother’s eyes,” Raven said, calmly but not without a certain wistfulness in her face. “In fact… you look so much like your mother, it’s almost like I’m looking at her ghost.” Perhaps it was for that reason that she looked away and focussed her attention upon Yang. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“'We have a lot to talk about'?!” Yang shouted, and she gesticulated furiously with her hands as she advanced a pace towards her… towards Raven. “'We have a lot to talk about'? You just show up like this, and that’s what you have to say? You’re damn right, we have a lot to talk about. How about we talk about where you’ve been and why you walked out on me and Dad and-”

“Yang, do you love Ruby?”

Yang halted, stunned into momentary silence by the unexpected question. “What?”

“Do you love Ruby?” Raven repeated, her red eyes glancing at Ruby herself.

“What kind of a question is that?” Yang demanded. “Yes, I love Ruby, why-”

“Well, you wouldn’t have a little sister if I hadn’t left your father free to come to terms with the feelings he’d been too dense to realise he possessed and Summer free to act upon the feelings she’d been holding in check,” Raven said casually. “So you could say that it all worked out for the best.”

“Except for the fact that Mom died,” Ruby reminded her. “Mom died, and Yang looked for you and-”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Raven said sharply. She scowled for a moment. “I thought that I was leaving you with the kindest, most generous people that I knew. I loved your mother.” She glanced away for a moment. “I need you both to understand that. I loved Summer, as much as I loved your father, in spite of her… I loved your mother; I wept to hear that she was dead.”

“I’m sorry that it upset you,” Yang growled.

“So am I,” Ruby added. “Really, I am.”

Raven looked at her. “Gods, you even sound just like your mother. In fact, you might be even more saccharine than she was, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Um… thank you?” Ruby murmured.

“She wasn’t paying you a compliment,” Yang muttered.

“Actually, I was,” Raven said. “It may not have sounded like it, but… I haven’t had a conversation like this in… too long. That you have ended up like your mother is nothing to be ashamed of. You have her looks, you have her eyes, and you must fight like her, or you wouldn’t be at this damn school, but… if you have her heart as well, you should guard it more preciously than any treasure. Never lose it.” She scowled. “Our time here is not unlimited; I didn’t come here to have my decisions questioned.”

“Then why did you come here?” Ruby asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I understand that you must-”

“No,” Yang snapped. “No, you don’t. You don’t know me, or Ruby. You weren’t there. You were never there.”

“Don’t mistake invisibility for absence,” Raven replied. “I’ve been watching over you almost every day since news of Summer’s death reached me.”

“Then it was you,” Ruby gasped. “I knew that I remembered your voice; it was you in the garden that day, when… when the bird spoke to me. I didn’t dream it, did I?”

“No, you simply broke your promise,” Raven reminded her.

Ruby looked down at her hands. “Right. Sorry about that.”

“It was your loss, not mine,” Raven replied. “But… yes. I was the raven.”

Ruby’s head snapped back up, her silver eyes widening. “How?”

“Ask your team leader; our time is too limited for me to waste time explaining that to you.”

“Convenient,” Yang said. “So you say that you were there as some bird who Ruby spoke to when she was a kid? How about the day when I went looking for you to that cabin in the woods? Were you there, watching me walk through the cold and the dark with Ruby in the back of a wagon, trying to find you? Were you there when I arrived at the cabin and all I found were beowolves?”

“If Qrow hadn’t come, I would have stepped in to protect you.”

“Why didn’t you show yourself?!” Yang demanded, a screech of rage that had been almost seventeen years coming bursting out of her mouth like a racehorse out the gate. “I was looking for you! If you were there then why didn’t you let me find you?”

Raven’s expression was almost inscrutable. Only the slightest tremor betrayed any hint of guilt for what she had done or not done. “You weren’t looking for me, Yang. You were looking for another Summer, someone to take her place. But that was more than I could give, to you or your father or anyone else. It was more than anyone could give. No one could replace Summer Rose… so why should I have tried?”

Yang shook her head. “But you showed yourself to Ruby,” she replied, her voice harsh. “You showed yourself to Ruby but… but not to me?”

“Ruby deserved to know what her mother truly was,” Raven declared. “You deserved better than to know what I am. If your father and uncle were honest with you about the world I move in, then you would not be so eager to become a part of it. I kept my distance for your own good.”

“Then why are you here now?” Ruby asked again. “Why show yourself, after so long? And at Beacon? What do you want from us?”

Raven stared at her for a moment. “I’m here to tell you to open your eyes. You’ll need to see clearly if you want to understand what’s coming.”

“What?”

“Watch Ozpin,” Raven continued. “Don’t trust him. Ask yourself why he decided to admit you to Beacon two years early, why he couldn’t wait until you were old enough.”

“Because I proved myself,” Ruby said.

Raven stared at her. “Is that the only reason? Did he say anything to you, when you spoke?”

Ruby swallowed. In spite of herself, she took a step back. “He said… the Professor said that… that I had-”

“Silver eyes,” Raven breathed, her tone as sharp as the edge of her sword. “Just like your mother before you. How much have you seen of your headmaster?”

“Not a lot,” Ruby said.

“It hasn’t started yet then,” Raven said, almost to herself. “Good; you’ll notice when it does.”

“When what does?” Yang demanded. “What are you talking about?”

“Ozpin plays favourites,” Raven explained. “When I was at Beacon, it was Team Stark; every few years, it’s someone else; this year… ask yourself this: do you think it’s a coincidence that a prodigy with silver eyes happened to be the girl picked to attend Beacon early? Or that you ended up on a team with two of the most talented huntresses to attend the academy since Summer and me? I guarantee that he’s already taken an interest in you, Ruby, and soon, he’ll start to show it: extra training missions, indulgence for breaking the rules… and then he’ll pull back the curtain and show you a little of the truth he hides from the rest of the world.”

“What truth?” Ruby demanded. “Why can’t you just give us a straight answer and explain what you really mean?”

“Because the things I know would shake the foundations of your world, and you wouldn’t believe half of the things that I could tell you.”

“Why should we believe a word out of your mouth now?” Yang yelled. “You’ve never been a part of my life, and now, you just show up here of all places, saying a lot of vague stuff, and we’re supposed to just buy it? What are you saying? Why are you here?”

“I’m trying to arm you!” Raven snapped. “You don’t believe me? Fine, you don’t have to. Keep reading the journal; you ought to believe Summer when you wouldn’t believe me. All the answers are there, the answers that your father and your uncle won’t tell you: about Silver Eyes, about Ozpin… about why Summer died. You just have to keep reading, and when you’re not reading, then watch.”

Ruby felt as though her head was spinning. This was all happening much too fast, and too unexpectedly, for her to really process half of what she was being told. “Why are you telling us this?”

Raven looked away. “Because… because I wasn’t there for Summer when she needed me most, but I hope that I can save… her daughters from the same fate.” She drew her sword and began to turn away. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Yang shouted, reaching out with one hand. “You can’t just go! You can’t just show up, dump all this stuff, and then just… leave!”

“You shouldn’t take my word as truth any more than Ozpin’s word or the words of your father or Qrow. Keep your eyes and your ears open and decide the truth for yourself,” Raven said, slicing her sword through the air to create another portal. She smirked briefly as she put on her helmet and concealed her face once more.

“Wait!” Ruby called. “Can’t we just… can’t we talk? About, just, you know… family stuff? How you are, how we’ve been, what Beacon is like now compared to how it was in your day? Can’t we just talk… like family?”

Raven was silent for a moment. She looked over her shoulder at the two girls. “That… that would be…” She looked away, her gaze flying upwards to the green lights that burned in the night sky atop the tower. “But the eyes of the Emerald Tower are always watching, and I have tarried here too long already. Coming here was foolish… but I owed her that much. Good luck, and for your mother’s sake, be careful.”

“No, wait, come back!” Yang yelled, but already, the portal that Raven had sliced through the fabric of the world itself was beginning to close. Yang dashed forward, hand outstretched… to close on the empty air as the portal disappeared as completely as if it had never been at all.

“Damn it!” Yang yelled. “How can she just… aargh!” She stepped forward, shaking her hands in futile anger.

“Yang,” Ruby said, her voice soft and small. “What… what are we going to do?”

Yang looked at her. Her eyes remained red, but there were traces of tears in them. “What are we going to do?” she repeated. “Nothing. Not a thing.”

“But-“

“We haven’t needed that woman ever,” Yang declared. “We haven’t… we don’t need her, and we don’t need her advice. We had a mom, and it wasn’t Raven. Whatever she has to say, why ever she just decided to show up like this… it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing she can tell us that we need to know.”

"Activate your silver eyes?” Sunset said. “You know how to do that?"

Ruby nodded eagerly. "Last night, when Yang and I were reading through the diary, we came to a point where Mom explained everything.”

Sunset waited for her to continue. “Well?” she demanded. “Celestia’s sake, Ruby, don’t leave us in suspense!”

“Sorry,” Ruby said. “It’s just that… this is going to sound a little crazy, but… I have magic eyes!" she declared, infusing her voice with what Sunset could only guess to be an attempt at sounding mystical and mysterious by drawing out the word 'magic' far longer than necessary.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Honestly, that was not what she had been expecting, although perhaps she should have. After all, she knew full well that magic existed in this world; with the benefit of hindsight, it had been conceited arrogance on her part to assume that she and she alone in all of Remnant had the ability to access and manipulate its energies.

Princess Celestia, blending magical theory with a dash of sociology, had taught her once that nothing exists in perfect isolation. All things leave their mark upon the world and are in their turn marked by it; either they will accommodate themselves to the world around them and in so doing force the world to somewhat accommodate them in turn, or else, they will make their presence known by force and either destroy or in struggle be destroyed themselves. It had been part of Celestia's mission in ruling Equestria to find sufficient space - physical and social - to accommodate all things which would be accommodated. The principle was more easily observed socially but could be seen also in magic and in the society that unicorns had built to make use of their command of it.

Why should it be any different in Remnant? Why should a power such as magic be ignored, existing in isolation and affecting the world not? True, Sunset had not come across another magic user yet - that she knew of, she corrected herself; who knew who else might be disguising their command of same as a kind of semblance - but that had been no reason for her to suppose that they did not exist.

My vanity remains, I see.

Sunset would have to confess that she had never heard of ocular magic before, but that was no reason to suppose that it did not exist. What reason would Summer Rose have to lie in a private journal? To play a joke on her children or descendants who might read it? That would take a rather singular sense of humour for which there was no evidence. That she had set down the truth as she perceived it was far more likely an explanation.

So, Ruby has magic in her bloodline, or the potential for it at least. The idea was fascinating, even more than the mere prospect of some untapped source of power within her, and that had been quite enticing enough for Sunset. Fascinating, enticing... and intriguing too. A young prodigy and sprung from a line of magic too. What are the odds?

What are the odds of this company? That Ruby, with her hidden legacy of magic, should be placed on a team with someone who was a practiced wielder of magic; that Team SAPR should include not one but two prodigies, one of whom was also the heir to one of Remnant's ancient thrones, and Jaune, who, behind his facade of aggressive ordinariness, had turned out to be a kind of human battery for the aura of the others. Sunset had been glad - and was still glad - to have been gifted, blessed with such talented raw materials to work with, but the more revelation piled upon revelation as to the overwhelming extraordinariness of this company, the more she was forced to question if someone's thumb was being placed on the scales. Destiny was watching over them; of that, Sunset did not wish to doubt, but was destiny driving them on sufficient to explain this run of providential good fortune? Were they being looked after by someone closer at hand?

How random is the team selection, really?

"Um, Ruby," Pyrrha murmured and, by her speech, made Sunset consciously aware of the fact that a prolonged silence had followed Ruby's pronouncement. Judging by the expressions that Jaune and Pyrrha wore - the former openly disbelieving, the latter what could best be described as a polite scepticism combined with a degree of nerves, presumably about giving offence - they were not so open to the idea that Ruby might have latent magical powers. "Are you certain of that? Magic?"

"Uh-huh," Ruby said. "Yang thought it was weird too, but it's just a word, right?"

"But... but, magic?" Jaune said. "Come on, Ruby, everyone knows there's no such thing as magic. That stuffs for fairy tales and comic books."

"What are you saying, Jaune?" Ruby asked. "Don't you believe me?"

"Nobody's saying that," Pyrrha began, "but-"

She said more, but that was the point at which Sunset tuned her out; her thoughts turned inwards because Sunset could see, with such perfect clarity, that it was as if she had suddenly been blessed with the gift of foresight, how this conversation would go: anything useful that Ruby might have learned about her magic would get lost as the conversation was derailed into the weeds of arguing over magic even existing or not. Rational scepticism, empirical evidence, and general consensus of opinion would be pitted against the word of Ruby's late mother and Ruby's faith in her. Sunset could predict exactly how long the argument would go on and on. And Sunset, who knew full well that magic existed, would have to sit here and listen to it all.

Or she could nip this in the bud right now and tell them the truth.

Some of the truth anyway. The parts about magic. Not the part about her being an alien; that was just ridiculous.

That was an uncertain road. She couldn't see where it would go. But it would probably spare her a headache from listening to these three blind men argue about sight. So long as she could keep off the 'unicorn from another world' business that would be even more of a distraction from the point than debating the existence of magic, then they might actually get somewhere.

If I wrote to Twilight about this, she'd probably tell me to trust my friends. Well, look at me now, Twilight: I didn't even need you to tell me that. Aren't I becoming nice and friendly?

"Neither of you," she said, "should be so quick to dismiss what you don't understand. There are more things in heaven and earth than you have dreamt of." Celestia had told her that, referring to the magic of friendship; now, Sunset used the line to refer to a more prosaic power by far.

Another silence descended on the dorm room.

Jaune laughed nervously. "Sunset... come on... you're not...do you believe in magic?"

"I don't need to believe in magic any more than I need to believe in this desk," Sunset said, knocking on the desk behind her with one hand. "I know it exists."

More silence greeted this pronouncement. Jaune, Pyrrha, even Ruby were looking at her strangely.

Sunset smirked. "People keep saying that my semblance is amazingly versatile."

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “I find that I’ve noticed that myself once or twice during the vacation. You’re not a Schnee, and if you were… not even Weiss can put her semblance to such varied uses as you. What you did with the crowd ought not to be possible, at least not with a semblance that lets you shoot energy blasts out of your hands.”

“You’re right, no semblance should be able to do the things that mine can do,” Sunset conceded. She spread her hands. "That's because it's not a semblance."

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “You mean… you’re suggesting… all this time…”

“It’s magic?” Jaune asked.

Sunset took a deep breath and focussed her magic into her fingertips. She would have to do something special. Something beyond the usual combat tricks that she'd been passing off as her semblance for years. Something impressive for the eyes, something-

Sure. Something like that.

Sunset's fingers began to glow. I hope this works, I haven't actually used magic like this for a while.

"Watch," Sunset said as she picked a satsuma up off her desk and tossed it up into the air. She pointed her fingers at it as it fell, and a spark of green light leapt from her fingertips to strike the falling fruit, turning it into a frog.

Sunset caught it with her telekinesis, lowering the frog more gently down to the floor, lest anyone get distracted by the idea of wanton cruelty to animals.

"Can a semblance do that?" she asked rhetorically. Or least, she hoped it was rhetorical; there might actually be a semblance that could do that, but Sunset took comfort from the fact that it was almost impossible that there could be a semblance that transfigured objects and fired energy beams.

The frog croaked indignantly and hopped across the floor.

Jaune's were as wide as dinner plates. Pyrrha's expression was more guarded, but she could not keep the surprise off her face or out of her posture completely. Ruby looked in awe.

"You're a witch!" Ruby said. "That is so cool."

Sunset snorted. "I've never actually been called that before but... I suppose it isn't inappropriate." After all, we speak of wizards; why not witches too?

"So... you've been using magic all this time?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yup," Sunset said. "You asked me why my basic combat skills were so... basic. And that's the answer: I was learning magic since I was a kid, not how to fight."

"I see," Pyrrha murmured. "That… I’m bound to say, that explains a great deal."

"How can you both be so okay with this?" Jaune demanded.

"If your head is going to explode, Jaune, go into the bathroom first; it'll be easier to clean up the mess," Sunset said.

A nervous laugh escaped from Jaune's lips. "So... you're being serious? It's... magic? You're... you're like... a magical girl?"

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "If you're expecting to see me in a sailor fuku or a frilly dress, you can forget it, but... I suppose, as I am a girl who has magic, I could be called... a magical girl."

Jaune's mouth moved silently. "How?"

Sunset looked away. What can I say: I'm a magical unicorn from another world? I'm the fallen angel who was expelled from paradise? "My past is my own. Nothing personal, I just... there are things that I don't want to talk about, and in any case, I didn't bring this up so that we could talk about me. I brought it up because, well, if Ruby has magic, then... it’s best that we agree that magic exists so we can get down to the actually interesting discussions around Ruby’s particular kind of power."

“Such as?” Pyrrha asked.

“Such as how we’re going to activate this gift of Ruby’s,” Sunset replied. She glanced at Ruby. “Assuming that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Ruby said firmly. “I want it just like I wanted to find out the truth about it. I know that it has downsides, but it’s such a powerful tool, and I know that I’ll be safe after using it with the three of you with me. Hey, Sunset, if you have magic too, then could you teach me how to use my eyes?”

“That depends,” Sunset said. “What does your mother say about the way this magic works?”

“It comes from positive emotions,” Ruby said. “From love.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Jaune said.

“You didn’t even know magic existed until a second ago, and now, you presume to be an expert,” Sunset scoffed.

“Hear me out,” Jaune begged. “Ruby… unless you’ve been hiding how sad you’ve felt all this time… you’ve felt happy here, right? You’ve felt joy? So, why haven’t your eyes… exploded?”

“That… okay, that is not an invalid point,” Sunset conceded.

“That’s what Mom said,” Ruby pointed out.

“True, but there could be other factors she didn’t see fit to mention, such as the power only activating in the presence of grimm,” Sunset replied. “No offence to your mother, but we often omit things that seem obvious to us, forgetting that they won’t necessarily be obvious to other people reading. All of which being said, unfortunately, I doubt that I can teach you how to unlock this power, let alone to make full use of it. My magic, although it can be affected by particularly strong emotion, is primarily intellectual. I think things, I will them in my mind, and then my power makes them happen. This, emotionally based magic… combined with the other differences, I’m not sure that I can get a handle on it. I’m sorry.” She did not like admitting any hint of failure or inadequacy, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to raise Ruby’s hopes only to disappoint them later.

“So… there’s nothing that we can do?” Jaune said.

“So it would seem,” Pyrrha murmured.

"There's Professor Ozpin," Ruby suggested. "I think he taught my mom, at least a little."

That was interesting. Professor Ozpin knew about magic? Sunset supposed that that ought to have been obvious, since they already knew that he had known about the silver eyes of Summer Rose, and if said eyes were magic, then it followed logically that he knew about magic. More of a revelation was the fact that he had taught Summer Rose how to use her gift, to an extent at least. How did you do that then, Professor? The headmaster of Beacon did not have silver eyes himself... could he have magic of his own? It was certainly possible; the fact that Sunset hadn't seen him use magic meant nothing, since she'd hardly seen him at all, and never in a situation where magic would be called for.

The fight with Pyrrha. He knew what I was going to do.

He knows that I have magic. Not too surprising, if he knew of its existence; Sunset had relied upon people's ignorance to be her shield, but if Professor Ozpin was not ignorant... if he was not ignorant, then was he unconcerned? He knew that Sunset had magic, but he hadn't done anything about it, not even approaching her to let her know that he knew. He had done nothing.

Nothing but put me on a team with Ruby.

Did you plan all this, Professor? Are we all dancing in accordance with your will? The notion seemed absurd upon its face - how could Professor Ozpin have known that she would sneak into the archives, let alone find Summer Rose's diary? - but at the same time, Sunset couldn't entirely dismiss the thought, couldn't shake it from her mind. Perhaps it was just her experiences with Celestia getting to her, but it was all starting to seem so convenient. Too convenient.

Sunset scowled. She was done being a pawn of the Wise; Sunset Shimmer was no one's puppet. Although she could think of Celestia with fondness, although she had forgiven her old teacher, that didn't change the fact that the princess had led Sunset around by the nose for years with promises of destiny and greatness that had turned out to be as substantive as the air. The fact that Celestia had been as much mistaken as she had been lying made no difference to how frustrating it had been, how much time Sunset had wasted pursuing a fantasy. She would not suffer such again.

"I… would rather not approach the headmaster with this,” Sunset said.

“Why?” Jaune asked. “I mean, if this is about you being in the archives and the fake transcripts… don’t you think this is bigger than that? I’ll say that I was the one who broke into the archives and stole the journal and my transcripts; you won’t get into trouble.”

“But you will!” Ruby cried. “Jaune, you could be expelled!”

“And you could learn how to harness an extraordinary power,” Jaune protested. “Isn’t that worth the trade?”

“Not if it means losing you,” Ruby declared. “Yang told me not to risk myself chasing this gift, and while I think she’s being too cautious about that, I’m not going to risk my friends.”

“This could make a huge difference to the fight against the grimm,” Jaune insisted. “If these powers are all that they’re cracked up to be, then you, armed with your magic, are worth so much more than-”

“Nope!” Ruby cut him off. “I’ve warned you about this, Jaune! If you keep it up, I’m going to get really mad!”

Sunset couldn’t help the slightly bemused look that crossed her face. “You’re going to get mad?”

“Well… I’ll get upset, anyway!” Ruby said. “You wouldn’t want me to get upset, would you, Jaune?”

Jaune looked at her. His lips twitched. “No. I wouldn’t want that at all. I’m sorry, Ruby, I just… I want to see you… I want to see you become everything that you were meant to be.”

“And you will,” Ruby assured him, “but by actually helping, not by turning yourself in to Professor Ozpin and taking the blame for something you didn’t even do.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting that I should turn myself in for this?” Sunset asked archly.

“No one should turn themselves in for this,” Ruby said. “I just… who’s to say that Professor Ozpin will ask any questions if I ask him about my eyes? I could say… I could say that my Dad told me.”

“Is there any reason you couldn’t ask your father about this?” Pyrrha suggested. “He might know things that your mother, for whatever reason, didn’t see fit to write down.”

“Maybe,” Ruby said softly. “But… Dad doesn’t like to talk about Mom very much. Part of the reason I was so excited when Sunset gave me Mom’s journal is that, well, when I was growing up, I couldn’t get anybody to tell me about my mother. Not Dad, not Uncle Qrow, not Professor Port or Doctor Oobleck when they visited. The only person who would tell me anything was Yang, and I think she was just making up stories to make me feel better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jaune said. “My sisters used to make up stories to make me feel better all the time when I was a kid.”

Princess Celestia made up stories too, but they did me a great deal of harm. “That is debatable, but leave that for now,” Sunset said. “The fact is that made up stories don’t help us to work out what to do with Ruby’s eyes.”

“Which brings us back to Professor Ozpin and the possibility that he might not leap to accusations of rule-breaking,” Pyrrha said.

“I’d rather not talk to the headmaster,” Sunset replied.

“Why not?” asked Pyrrha.

“Because I don’t trust him!” Sunset exclaimed. “I think he’s playing us.”

“And I have to say, I think that you’re a little paranoid where the headmaster is concerned,” Pyrrha said, with a gentleness that belied the harshness of her words.

Sunset sighed. "Look, I'm not saying that I have this all figured out, but think about it, look at this team: a world-renowned fighter, a young prodigy who is also the heir to a magical bloodline, a... a magical girl or a witch or whatever you want to call me, and a boy with a sword of ancient heroes and enough aura for a small army; we're a super team! Maybe we just got really lucky, but what if it was more than that?"

"But team selections are random!" Jaune protested.

"Says Professor Ozpin," Sunset said.

"Yang said the same thing," Ruby said. "She told me that I really lucked out with my teammates. She called it winning the lottery. She also said..."

Sunset leaned forward. "Go on."

Ruby frowned and looked at her hands. "Yang and me... we're actually only half-sisters. Summer Rose, she was my mom. Yang's... Yang's mom is actually... the R in team Stark. Her name's Raven."

Pyrrha reached out and put one hand on Ruby's shoulder. "Ruby, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"It's fine," Ruby said, although she didn't sound entirely fine. "The point is... we saw her last night. She… she appeared to us, her semblance… it must let her move around; she created this portal thing. And she…”

“Ruby?” Pyrrha asked.

“Sunset,” Ruby said, “is there some magic that would let Raven turn into, well, a raven?”

“She turned into a bird?” gasped Jaune.

“Not right then and there in the courtyard,” Ruby corrected. “But… when I was a kid… she said that it was her; it’s a long story. Anyway, Sunset… is that possible?”

Sunset nodded. “Transformation of species? Yes, it’s possible. It’s advanced magic, and I’m a little surprised that your… that this Raven could do it,” Sunset wondered where Raven had gotten her training from? Had Ozpin overseen that, too? How much magic is in this world that I knew not of?

Is it possible that Raven came from Equestria too? A powerful unicorn who found her way to Remnant?

No, that would mean that Yang would be… part unicorn, or something like that; anyway, the point is that would mean Yang would have inherited magic, and she’s shown absolutely no sign of it.

So where did Raven get her power from?

“So it was her,” Ruby whispered. “She did visit me when I was a kid. Anyway, she said something about Professor Ozpin too; she said… she said that we shouldn’t trust him."

"But it's Professor Ozpin," Jaune cried. "He's... he's a legend. The youngest headmaster in history!"

"His reputation is formidable," Pyrrha agreed. "It's hard to believe that a man so well-beloved, a hero of Remnant, could harbour any ill-intent towards us."

"I never said that he had ill-intent," Sunset said. "I just said that he might have intentions that are not immediately obvious, for good or ill."

"But if he trained Ruby's mother in her powers," Pyrrha said, "why would he not want to train Ruby?"

“Because… because… alright, I don’t have the answer to that – yet,” Sunset admitted. “Maybe he’s just worried that he couldn’t keep private lessons with Ruby a secret and people would find out about her eyes. Incidentally, I hope it goes without saying that none of this stuff leaves the room, especially about my magic."

Pyrrha nodded. "Of course."

"Why would it matter if people found out about Ruby's eyes?" Jaune asked.

"I don't know," Sunset said. "Like I said, I don't have all the answers. I'm just musing aloud at this point. But the point is… as much as I would like to see Ruby come into her magic, I agree with Yang that you shouldn’t take unnecessary risks to obtain that power. Search for it, reach for it, seek to obtain it, sure, but not at the cost of making yourself a puppet of others, a weapon for Professor Ozpin to wield in battles we did not choose and games we do not understand.”

Ruby frowned. “Sunset,” she murmured.

“Something wrong, Ruby?”

“I… no,” Ruby said quickly. “It’s just…”

“What?” Sunset asked.

“It’s just… that that’s pretty much what Raven said.”

Author's Note

Originally there was going to be a fight between Yang/Blake and Adam, which Adam would almost win necessitating Raven to come in for the save like in the Yang vs Neo fight; but I decided that after several chapters of Adam tanking hits and talking about how his aura must be almost out it would verge on the ridiculous for him to pick a fight with Blake and Yang as well (not to mention that a fresh Raven would absolutely wreck a tired Adam on low aura, and it was difficult to see how he would survive such an encounter). So I decided to use this as a the moment for a scene I wanted but couldn't quite decide where to put: Raven appearing to Yang and warning her about Ozpin and his plans for Ruby. It's a combination of her appearance in Volume 5 plus the sort of thing that might have happened after the Volume 2 stinger if Miles and Kerry hadn't decided to retcon it out of canon.

Raven is possibly a little out of character here, but I really, really like that volume 2 stinger which seems to suggest a slightly different direction for Raven than the one they ended up going with in the end.

Rewrite Notes: The conversation between Yang and Raven is moved here from its original position at the end of the fight with the White Fang, and the scene where Sunset reveals her magic is moved to here from 'Welcome to Beacon' because that chapter is cluttered enough already and its placement here, right after Ruby has learned the truth about her silver eyes from Raven, makes sense.

Shooting Stars (New)

Shooting Stars

“Excuse us, Miss.”

Ruby turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, hailing her across the courtyard. The vacation was almost over now, and more and more Beacon students were beginning to return in anticipation of that event. She assumed, since she didn’t know every student at Beacon – far from it – that the person who was hailing her was amongst those returnees.

But when she turned to look in the direction of the call and saw the group of people making their way down the path that led from the skydocks, Ruby saw that it could not be so. The group approaching consisted of four girls who looked to be of the right age to be students – which, okay, they could have been a team returning together – but also three much younger girls, who barely looked old enough to be starting Combat School, let alone attending one of the Huntsman Academies.

“Hi there,” Ruby said with cheerful politeness, waving to the group. “Can I help you with something?”

“Ah hope so,” said the same girl who had called out to Ruby and was leading the way for the others to follow. She was a tall girl, almost as tall as Pyrrha and just as muscular-looking, with eyes as green as apples and golden hair worn in a ponytail down to her waist. She was wearing a plaid shirt over a white vest, with the sleeves rolled up above the elbow and the ends tied off above the belly. Her blue denim skirt was short and ended just below her thighs, leaving her legs bare to her thigh, and high-heeled, brown leather boots, ended just below her knees. A brown, slightly battered-looking Stetson hat sat atop her head, pushed back and upwards so that it didn’t obscure her face from view. “Ah don’t suppose you know a pair by the names of Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle who are supposed to be around these parts?”

“From Team Rosepetal?” Ruby asked. “Sure, I know them. They’re our friends! Well, I’m mostly friends with their teammate, Penny, but Twilight’s nice, and Rainbow’s pretty cool.”

“Well, that’s a fortunate coincidence,” observed a pale girl with luscious purple hair.

“It’s amazing how they happen, isn’t it?” responded a girl with amazingly voluminous pink hair.

The girl in the Stetson grinned. “That’s great to hear, and not just because it means Rainbow ain’t offended the whole school with her ego, but also, well, would you mind showing us all to their dorm room? We would have called ahead, but some people wanted it to be a surprise.” She looked at the girl with the pink hair.

“Sure, I can take you to them,” Ruby said. “So, are you all friends of theirs?”

“Eeyup,” the girl in the Stetson said. “My name is… well, my name if you want to get all proper about it is, uh, well, it’s Jacqueline Apple is what it is, but Ah’d appreciate it if you called me Applejack; everybody does. This here is my li’l sister, Apple Bloom.”

“Nice to meet ya!” cried Apple Bloom, a girl a couple of years younger than Ruby herself – but about the same height as Ruby, somewhat annoyingly – with eyes that were orange, shading into red, wearing a blue dungaree dress over a yellow t-shirt, with yellow kneesocks, red shoes, and a large pink bow in her long red hair.

“I’m Rarity, darling; it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the purple-haired girl said as sparkles filled the air around her; how did she do that, was that her semblance? She was about as tall as Applejack – though that might have only been because her heels were longer – but much slenderer and less muscular, slim and pale with vivid blue eyes that sparkled like sapphires. Her purple hair coiled and curled like the waves of the sea as it wound over her right shoulder and down her back to just below the waist, and in her curling locks sparkled a trio of blue gems that might have been sapphires or blue diamonds or fakes or something else, Ruby didn’t know enough about that kind of thing to say for sure. She wore a purple pencil skirt embroidered with a trio of blue diamonds on the left hand side, along with a white blouse, strapless, backless, and sleeveless, with a sweetheart neckline that seemed to be held up by nothing at all, except perhaps the purple belt that wound about her waist. Heavy gold bracelets gleamed around her wrists, while a gold necklace adorned with large blue and purple gems graced her snowy neck. Her feet were left mostly exposed by her high heeled shoes, which strapped on around her ankles; said straps were studded with blue gems that matched her eyes.

She had a rifle slung across her back and a brown and white collie trailed beside her.

“And I’m her little sister, Sweetie Belle,” said the younger girl who stood beside her; smaller than Apple Bloom, and probably a little smaller than Weiss or Nora, too. Her hair was a mixture of pink and lavender, shorter than her sister's, only reaching halfway down her back, and decorated with a red hair band. Her eyes were a bright green that reminded Ruby a little of Penny. She was dressed in a one-piece white dress with short, puffed sleeves that descended down to just below her knees, while a pair of white socks rose up until just below said knees as if they were trying to touch but not quite managing it.

“My name’s Pinkie Pie, it’s nice to meet you!” the pink-haired girl chirruped. She was the smallest of the older girls, barely any taller than Ruby, with innocent blue eyes and incredibly poofy pink hair that seemed wild and free without any order to it whatsoever. She was dressed in a white T-shirt with a frosted cupcake on it and a blue jacket with short, puffy sleeves that left most of her arms bare down to the blue plastic bracelets dangling from her wrist. A lavender sash was wrapped around her waist and tied into a bow on the left-hand side, while her skirt, short but wide, was ruffled into layers of gradually darkening pink until it stopped above the knees. Pinkie was wearing a pair of chunky-looking blue boots with laces topped with a pair of pink bows.

“I’m Fluttershy,” the last of the older girls murmured. She was pretty much the same height as Sunset, with long, gently curving lilac hair that fell down almost to her knees and served to frame her face and, with the way she was holding her head right now, kind of hide it from view as well. A butterfly hairclip decorated it, just above her right temple. Her eyes were blue and kind of sad-looking, as though something bad had happened to her on the flight over. She wore a dark green dress with off-the shoulder sleeves that clung to her arms and lilac butterflies stitched onto the right-hand side. The straps of her delicate lilac sandals wound their way up her legs, ending in a pair of little bows.

“And I’m Scootaloo,” declared the last of the three younger children, who stood by Applejack’s side with one of Applejack’s hands upon her shoulder. She stood in height halfway between Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, with purple eyes and hair to match, worn in a style that was… incredibly similar to Rainbow Dash. She was dressed in a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, dark green shorts, and black boots. She also had a pair of prosthetic legs, chunky and metallic and unmistakable, painted in bright rainbow colours that made them look pretty cool, actually. Ruby remembered what Rainbow had said, about the time when she’d met Pyrrha at a charity fundraiser and how Pyrrha had talked to a girl in a hospital. She guessed that this was who they’d been talking about.

Ruby smiled. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m Ruby Rose of Team Sapphire of Beacon! If you’ll all follow me, then I’ll show you all to the Team Rosepetal dorm room. If they’re not there, I have their scroll numbers, but that would spoil the surprise a little, I guess.”

“We’d like to avoid that,” Pinkie said.

“You mean you’d like to avoid it, sugarcube,” Applejack replied. “Ah woulda just as soon called on ahead.”

“Aw, come on, Applejack!” Pinkie cried. “Imagine the looks on their faces when we show up at the door!”

“I think that sounds pretty cool,” Ruby agreed, as she led the large group through the courtyard towards the dorm room where the Atlesians were staying. “So, if you know Rainbow and Twilight, you must be from Atlas, right? Unless you all met in Vale, but-”

“Indeed, darling, you were right the first time,” Rarity informed her.

“So you came all the way from Atlas, to visit your friends?” Ruby asked. “That’s… that’s really nice of you.”

It was a long way from Atlas, after all, and it was probably pretty expensive, too; or at least not cheap. Ruby hadn’t been involved in planning the trip to Mistral, so she didn’t have the greatest idea what cross-continental travel cost, except she got that Sunset and Jaune would have struggled to make it without Pyrrha picking up the bill. Rainbow and Twilight’s friends probably weren’t that poor, but all the same, it was a big thing for them to come all this way; their friendship must mean a lot to all of them.

“A couple of us are… what you might call passing through,” Applejack admitted.

“But since Rainbow and Twilight couldn’t come home for the vacation, we thought that we’d come and see them here instead!” Pinkie declared enthusiastically.

“It is alright, isn’t it?” Fluttershy asked tremulously. “We don’t want to cause any bother.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ruby assured her. “Classes aren’t in session right now, so there’s nothing that they need to do and nowhere that they need to be, so they’ll be able to spend as much time with you as they want.”

“Awesome,” Scootaloo said, a smile on her face as she looked around the campus. “This place looks amazing.”

“I know, and it is,” Ruby said. “I could hardly believe it when I first came here; it’s like… it’s like it’s hardly a school at all; it’s like its own little world.”

“So, how do you know Rainbow and Twilight, Ruby?” Sweetie Belle asked.

“Oh, well…” Ruby hesitated. “We met through their teammate Penny. Then they were a really big help in fighting off some bad guys-”

“You were there too?” Scootaloo demanded enthusiastically. “You fought the White Fang down at the docks with Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, we were there too,” Ruby said. “I have to admit, we would have been in quite a lot of trouble if it hadn’t been for Team Rosepetal backing us up.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what on Remnant were you all doing down there in the first place?” inquired Rarity. “I understand fighting to protect humanity – even if it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my own life, in the end – but what possessed you to go down to the docks and try to stop a simple robbery?”

“Because what the White Fang might have done with that dust… that was as much defending humanity as fighting any number of grimm,” Ruby replied. “I think so, anyway.”

“All the same, it sounds a little reckless of you,” Fluttershy murmured. “I mean, you’re only students after all, and… if you don’t mind me asking, what year are you in?”

“First year.”

“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy gasped. “You’ve barely learned anything beyond combat school. Were you alright down there in that battle?”

“Uh, yeah, everyone was fine,” Ruby lied, sort of. She certainly didn’t tell the whole truth. “Nobody got hurt.” Not for long, anyway.

“I’m glad,” Fluttershy said. “Just like I’m glad that Rainbow and Twilight were able to make some new friends here at Beacon.” She smiled. “Thank you, for looking out for them.”

Ruby laughed nervously. "It's really more the other way around."

"Ruby?" Rarity said, hastening – as much as she could hasten in those stilettos – to catch up with Ruby. "May I call you Ruby, darling?"

"Sure," Ruby agreed readily.

"Excellent," Rarity said, with a smile. "You see, I was just wondering where you came by that delightful ensemble you're wearing."

"This?" Ruby said, looking down at her outfit. "You think it's… delightful?"

"Oh, certainly, darling, it's so, well, you," Rarity declared. "And complementing the subject is the eternal rule of style. If an outfit does not make the wearer look good, then it is not a good outfit, no matter who made it or with what care. But yes, this outfit, I especially like the way the touch of red on the hem of your dress mirrors the highlights of your hair. And that cape! Ordinarily, I wouldn't say that capes are fashionable – in fact they tend to make one look rather old-fashioned, I must say – but you wear it so well, it becomes you beautifully. You must tell me where you got it."

"Actually, uh," Ruby hesitated. "I, uh, made it myself."

Rarity's eyes widened. "Really? Why, that's simply incredible, dear; you have quite the talent. My goodness, I think that if you were to devote yourself, you could exhibit in Mistral Fashion Week one day."

"Seriously?" Ruby asked. "You really think so?"

"I would never lie to a fellow fashionista," Rarity said.

"Well, that's really kind of you to say," Ruby replied, "but that's not really the kind of thing I want out of my life. I… I know what I like, to wear, I mean, but… I don't want to make it my life, taking orders from other people, making stuff for them. It's not what I want."

Applejack nodded sagely. "This is, huh? You're here at Beacon because you want the life."

Ruby looked back at her. "Doesn't everyone who comes to the academies?"

Applejack scratched the back of her head. "Ah wouldn't say everyone. I went to Atlas because, well, because somebody oughtta stand up for these kids," she said, putting one arm on Scootaloo's shoulder and the other around Apple Bloom. "Ah can't speak for Beacon, but I think a lot of folks come to Atlas because they feel as though they oughtta. Feel as though they got something to contribute, and so, they should, well, contribute it, Ah guess."

"I'm feeling ever so slightly called out, darling," Rarity murmured.

"Oh, horseapples and hay bales, Rarity, you know I don't mean it like that," Applejack said sharply. "Hay, I was the one who told you that you weren't cut out for Atlas in the first place. This life… it ain't for everyone, and it don't have to be for everyone, and it shouldn't be for everyone neither."

"I guess not," Ruby said softly, "but don't you think that huntresses… I may have talent for making outfits like this, but I can't imagine anything more worthwhile that I could do with my life than saving people, hunting grimm, defending the world against… against all the things that make them scared. Except they won't have to be scared, because I'll be there, standing… standing between the candle and the dark, no matter what it takes."

Applejack nodded, a slow smile of quiet approval spreading across her face. "Like Ah said, this life ain't for everyone," she repeated, "but for some folks… ain't no place better. Why, Ah bet your friends are real glad to have you around in a pinch, Ruby Rose."

Ruby turned away before she started to blush. "So… yeah, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, you're not disappointing me, dear, so long as you're not disappointing yourself," Rarity said. "Not everyone can be an internationally-recognised trend-setter, or even want to be one. For some people, it's enough that they keep on looking fabulous. Speaking of fabulous, have you considered make-up? A little shadow in the right colour would bring out those startling eyes of yours superbly."

"You said I was too young to be wearing make-up," Sweetie Belle muttered.

"There is a long distance between seventeen and twelve, Sweetie Belle," Rarity replied majestically.

"Actually," Ruby said, "I'm only-"

"Fifteen, right?" Pinkie said, as she skipped forwards until she was in front of Ruby, then turned around so that she was facing the young huntress, still skipping backwards all the while.

Ruby frowned. "How did you-?"

"It's a gift," Pinkie said.

"One that should simply be accepted," Rarity added softly.

"You got admitted to Beacon early?" Fluttershy asked. "My goodness."

"You must be awesome!" Scootaloo said.

"Well, I do my best, but-"

"What's it like, being the youngest student here?" Pinkie asked.

"It's not so bad," Ruby said. "My teammates are a big help, they… they help take care of me when things get a little too much. The downside is they keep treating me like a kid. I'm fifteen, not five."

"We know how that feels," Apple Bloom said.

"Fifteen may be a mite younger than seventeen, but it's a long way older than twelve," Applejack said. "Ah guess you must really want this pretty bad, sugarcube, coming in early and leaving all your friends behind like that."

Ruby decided not to mention that any friends she'd had at Signal had faded away the moment she left Signal. "I… I've made new friends here, like my teammates, Penny, and… you're right. I do want this. More than anything. I want… my dream is to make a world where everybody else can be free to achieve their dreams, because they're all safe. Does that sound stupid?"

"Not in the least, darling," Rarity assured her.

"It sounds incredibly brave," Fluttershy murmured.

"And selfless too!" Pinkie added.

"Eeyup, it's a noble thing you're aiming for," Applejack declared. "And don't you let anybody ever tell you different."

Ruby smiled, a small smile but present nonetheless. "Hey, Rarity?"

"Yes?"

"Well, what you said… do you really think that I have a talent for, you know, clothes and stuff?"

"As I said, Ruby, I wouldn't lie about something so serious," Rarity said. "Why?"

"Well…" Ruby hesitated. She'd never thought of herself as being talented in this field. She knew that she had made her own outfit to her own satisfaction, but until Rarity had complimented her on it, she'd never really considered that she might be able to satisfy other people too. "There's a dance this semester, and I was thinking that maybe I could make something for my friends to wear. Do you think I could do it? Do you think they'd like that?"

"If they are your friends, then I think they'd love it," Rarity assured her. "For it will be a true gift from the heart, reflecting both yourself and how you see your friends." She paused. "That said, you should probably ask them first."

Ruby giggled. "Yeah, that would be a good idea, wouldn't it?"

"I'll give you my scroll number," Rarity added, "and if you need any advice at any stage in the process, please, don't hesitate to call me."

“Hey, Ruby,” Pinkie cried. “Do you like cookies?”

"B4," Twilight said.

"Hit," Penny announced. "Although I do not believe it should count."

Twilight's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really? And why is that, Penny?"

"Based on the number of hits I have achieved, you should have only a destroyer remaining," Penny declared. "It is unlikely that your surviving vessel has guns of sufficient calibre to do serious damage to my larger warships."

Ciel looked up from the model Mistralian sailing galley that she was painstakingly assembling on the desktop. "And if this were a more realistic wargame, you would be correct, Penny. However, the game you are actually playing is not so complex."

"The natures of the different ships don't matter," Twilight said as she sat on the other side of a plastic screen that shielded the location of her ships from Penny's view, not that it had stopped Penny from sinking all but one of them. "It only matters whether you can guess the locations correctly."

"This game seems very heavily based on luck," Penny said.

"Oh, it's almost all about luck," Twilight agreed, "but that doesn't mean it can't be fun. Now, it's your turn."

Penny fell silent for a moment as she contemplated her next strike. "D8."

"Oh, come on!" Twilight cried.

Rainbow Dash was sat on her bed, reading the latest Daring Do novel. "Speaking of luck, looks like it's not on your side today, Twi."

"Don't I know it," Twilight muttered. "B…3."

"Miss!" Penny cried.

"Ugh," Twilight groaned. "Really not on my side."

There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Rainbow said, putting her book down and rolling off the bed before covering the short distance separating bed and door. She opened the door up and-

"SURPRISE!"

Rainbow was covered in confetti and streamers as several party poppers exploded in her face, tossing their contents all over her and into the dorm room. A party blower trumpeted, and tickled her chin a little as Pinkie Pie blew into it.

As Pinkie Pie-

"Pinkie?" Rainbow gasped. "Girls?" It wasn't just Pinkie, after all; it was everyone: Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, and Apple Bloom too.

Fluttershy smiled, making a squeaking sound with her mouth.

"How… you really…" Rainbow beamed. "Hey, Twilight, look who it is?"

Twilight got up and rushed to the doorway. "Girls? You're all here?" Twilight asked, sounding as surprised as Rainbow had been. "What are you-?"

"Well, we couldn't let the best part of a whole year go by without seeing you, could we?" Rarity asked.

Now it was Twilight's turn to smile a bright, beaming smile. "It's wonderful to see you all," she cried, spreading her arms out wide as Fluttershy, Rarity and Applejack pressed in close for a tight group hug with Twilight and Rainbow Dash, the five of them coming together in an interlocking mass of arms and huddled bodies, tight and warm and caring… and with somebody missing.

"Whee!" Pinkie cried, as she leapt into the group hard enough to send them all flying into the room and onto the floor, where they lay in a tangled heap, laughing. Rainbow had missed these girls so much. She hadn't realised just how much she'd missed them until she didn't miss them anymore, until they were here. She had other friends, she'd made friends here, but these girls weren't just her friends, they weren't even just her best friends, they were… they were parts of her heart. They were parts of her soul. Her life before she'd met them seemed like a grey thing – like one of those old black and white movies that Rarity liked – before they had come into it and filled her world with so many colours. And now… now, she couldn't imagine a world without them. She didn't want to imagine a world without them.

"Should we all join in?" Penny asked.

"No," Ciel said instantly.

Rainbow extricated herself from the pile, her eyes fixed on Scootaloo. "Hey, Scootaloo. It's great to see you too. How have you been doing, kid?"

"Pretty good," Scootaloo said. "My doctor cut my sessions in half because they said I don't need so many anymore, and they said I can start riding my scooter again!"

"And that's only pretty good? That sounds amazing!" Rainbow said, hugging Scootaloo as her friends picked themselves up off the floor. "Listen, buddy, I'm really sorry that I wasn't around."

"It's okay, I shouldn't have… you know," Scootaloo said. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise," Rainbow assured her. "I should be the one saying sorry; I promised that we'd spend time together, and then I bailed on you."

"But that wasn't your fault either," Scootaloo said. "Vice Principal Luna came by and explained everything, how you have a job to do and you're keeping us all safe." The younger girl grinned. "And being awesome! I heard about the big fight down at the docks; what happened?"

Rainbow grinned right back at her. "Well, it started when Sunset Shimmer and some of her Beacon students got in way over their head. 'Help', they cried, 'somebody save us!'"

"Hey!" Ruby yelled. "We did not say that!"

Rainbow looked around. Ruby was standing in the doorway. "Oh, hey, Ruby, I didn't see you there."

"No," Ruby growled. "I bet you didn't."

"Ruby was kind enough to lead us here to your room," Fluttershy explained.

Ciel got up. "Ruby," she said, "Penny and I were just about to head to the firing range for some target practice. Would you care to join us?"

"We were?" Penny asked.

"Yes, Penny, we were," Ciel replied.

"Oh, sure, I'd love to come along," Ruby said. "Penny owes me a rematch anyway."

"You are a good friend, Ruby, but you cannot win," Penny declared cheerfully as she got up and walked towards the door.

"We'll see about that, Penny," Ruby vowed.

"Thank you, Ruby," Twilight said. "And thank you, Ciel."

"Not a problem," Ruby called as Ciel nodded sharply before, as the last to leave the room after Penny, she shut the door behind her.

"Oh, gosh, I forgot to introduce you to our teammates," Twilight gasped. "Someone has to remind me to do it later."

"I will," Pinkie promised.

"So, anyway," Rainbow continued. "there was a big White Fang guy with a red sword, and he was about to bring that sword down on an unsuspecting Beacon student. But then, just like that, I was there, and I blocked his sword with my bare hand, oh and this wasn't just any sword; this was a sword that cuts through aura! But I still blocked it with my bare hand 'cause I'm just that awesome! And then I said 'time to take out the trash,' and I was like 'Wham! Bam!' and I was throwing out punches, and he was nothing like fast enough to keep up with me, and then I leapt over his head with my wings outstretched, and then I landed behind him and then…"

Scootaloo nodded eagerly. "And then?"

"Then… he got a load of his guys to dogpile me and then ran away while I fought them off, the coward," Rainbow spat, "but I had him on the ropes, and I'll totally get him next time."

"So cool," Scootaloo whispered in awe.

Rainbow sat down and patted the space on the bed for Scootaloo to sit down beside her. "Everybody sit down," she said, and her friends all took chairs or sat down on the four beds in the dorm room. "How was your flight over? Did you have any trouble?" She'd heard that there had been a couple of issues with flights between Vale and Atlas.

"None at all," Applejack assured her. "O'; course, we did have a cruiser shepherdin' us most of the way there, seemed like."

"That's good to hear," Twilight said. "About your not having any trouble, I mean, not about the cruiser."

"The cruiser thing is good to hear if it's why they didn't have any trouble," Rainbow suggested.

Twilight chuckled. "I guess so. The important thing is that you're all here safe. How long are you staying? Did you really come all this way just to see us?"

"Some of us did, because we missed you," Pinkie said.

"Some of you?" Rainbow repeated.

"Well," Applejack began, taking her hat off and running one hand through her golden hair, "Fluttershy, do you wanna tell 'em?"

Fluttershy looked as though she'd rather not, but in any case, she began, her voice quiet. "Rainbow Dash, you know how I've always wanted to travel across the four kingdoms, exploring the natural fauna that so often goes undocumented in the wild?"

"Yeah, me and Applejack were going to come along to keep you safe," Rainbow said.

Fluttershy nodded. "I know. It's just that, well, Applejack is taking a year out from Atlas, and-"

"And so you're doing this without me?" Rainbow cried. "Just the two of you?"

"Simmer down, sugarcube; I can keep Fluttershy safe by myself."

"Can you?" Rainbow asked. "You're great, Applejack, but you're just one huntress."

"If we get into that much trouble, I ain't sure two huntresses will be that much better than one," Applejack replied. "I can camp, I can cook, and unlike some folks, I can actually stay out of trouble, so I think me and Fluttershy will do just fine. Besides, it's not like we're headed to the Vacuan desert. We're just going to spend a couple of months in the forests of Vale; we won't ever be too far from a village if we need help."

Rainbow frowned. "Are you sure about this, Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy nodded. "Not that I wouldn't like it if you were here, but… well, you're so busy with Atlas, and then when you graduate, you'll be joining the military, and I don't want to ask you to put your career on hold just so that you can watch over me when I'm studying animals and birds."

"I said that I'd-"

"And besides, I need to be braver when facing the world and not just hide behind my friends all the time, don't you think?" Fluttershy asked.

"I guess," Rainbow muttered reluctantly. "So… what, you two are going to head out after this?"

"That's the plan," Applejack confirmed. "That's why Ah brought mah gun. And Winona."

Winona barked, from where she sat on the floor.

"And the rest of you?" Twilight asked. "Rarity, Pinkie, girls? How long are you going to be in Vale?"

"A few days," Rarity said. "We're staying at a hotel. Fortunately, Vytal Festival tourism hasn't pushed the prices up yet."

"Speaking of which, we're planning to get back in time for the tournament,” Fluttershy assured her.

"And we'll be back in Vale to cheer you on as well," Rarity confirmed. "We've had those reservations booked for some time. Although now…"

"Now what?" Twilight asked.

"Well, with all these robberies on the news, one wonders if so many people are going to want to come to Vale this year," Rarity said.

Rainbow and Twilight exchanged glances. "Yeah, that… that's not great," Rainbow admitted, "but I'm sure that it'll all be taken care of by the time the tournament rolls around. And even now, the streets are safe."

"We wouldn't want you to worry," Twilight added.

"So, anyway," Rainbow said, quickly changing the subject, "how are things with all of you guys? How's it going back home?"

"Vice-Principal Luna said that, provided I've completed my course of rehab with my legs, I should be able to try out for combat school at the end of the year!" Scootaloo very nearly yelled.

"Really? That's great!" Rainbow cried.

"And I'll be trying out too," Apple Bloom added. "After a certain overbearing and overprotective big sister finally said it was okay."

"Are you both going to study on the huntsman track?" Twilight asked.

"Yup," Apple Bloom confirmed. "Sweetie Belle's only takin' some aura lessons, though."

"I'm just not sure that being a huntress is for me," Sweetie Belle murmured.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Sweetie Belle," Twilight told her. "I… I have to pretend to be a huntress while I'm here, but I don't really think of myself as one, and there's nothing wrong with that. We all have our own talents and our own ways of expressing them. Do you think any less of Rarity because she didn't go to Atlas?"

"Of course not!"

"Then there you are," Twilight said. "Have you figured out what you want to do instead?"

"Not yet," Sweetie Belle admitted. "I'm hoping that… maybe training my aura will help me figure it out. Like… put me closer to my soul or something? Maybe if I find my semblance, it will teach me who I really am. Or who I'm meant to be."

"That's… certainly an interpretation of how aura and semblances work," Twilight said. "So, Rarity, anything exciting going on?"

"You know how it is, darling, one scrimps and saves," Rarity said airily. "But! Ms Hemline was rather impressed with my latest design, and she's even going to allow me to put it on the shelf!"

"Oh, Rarity, that's incredible; I'm so happy for you," Twilight said. "Your first step on the road to success."

"One can only hope, darling," Rarity said. "Unfortunately, it is all in the hands of the public, now."

"What about you, Pinkie, what's new?" Rainbow asked.

"Nothing's new, exactly; even the babies aren't new anymore," Pinkie said, referring not to any children of hers but to the children of Mr and Mrs Cake, the genial couple who owned Sugarcube Corner, a little Mom and Pop café in Atlas where Pinkie worked part time as waitress, baker, barista, and all-around help. "But they still need a lot of looking after, so I've been picking up more and more work. Sometimes, they even let me watch the Corner all by myself."

"Wow, moving up in the world," Rainbow said. "Speaking of which, do you guys want to go get a drink and a bite to eat? There's a great place just outside the campus… and there's somebody that I'd like you all to meet."

The reasons why manticores prefer wintry climates is unknown, but may be the result of

Blake blinked. She felt tired. Her eyes kept sliding off the page, and the words kept blurring before her eyes.

She was supposed to be studying with Sunset in preparation for the imminent resumption of classes, but she couldn’t. She was sitting here, with Sunset, in the library, but she just couldn’t actually get any work done. She couldn’t get the words to stay in place, let alone fix them in her head.

Blake blinked again and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Something wrong?” Sunset asked, looking up from her own book.

“I… sorry,” Blake apologised. “Am I distracting you?”

“Not as much as you’re distracting yourself,” Sunset replied. She looked away from their table, towards the bookshelves not far away.

Blake frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Sunset replied. “A part of me is just waiting for Sun to emerge from out of hiding like a ninja.”

That brought the traces of a smile to Blake’s lips. “He doesn’t follow me everywhere.”

“He follows you to a lot of places,” Sunset replied. “He nearly got us thrown out of that coffee place.”

“I’m pretty sure you did that when you hit him in the chest with a blast from your semblance,” Blake replied.

“Because he appeared out of nowhere and startled the hell out of me!” Sunset squawked. “It’s… don’t you think it’s a little creepy?”

Well, he’s not talking with delicious relish about how much he enjoys mass murder, Blake thought. “No,” she said. “I think it’s… kind of sweet, really? It’s… it’s nice to have someone who wants to be around me that much.” And who isn’t an unrepentant killer. “Someone… who sees me for who I am and… and doesn’t shrink back or flinch away from it. Like Jaune with Pyrrha.”

“I see you for who and what you are and don’t flinch away from it, it doesn’t mean that I stalk you all over school and town and everywhere in between,” Sunset pointed out.

“It’s not stalking, it’s… Sun just wants to help. To help me,” Blake said. “And that… I like that. Anyway, it’s not like he has a lot of other places to be. His team still hasn’t arrived from Haven yet-”

“Whose fault is that?” Sunset asked.

Blake folded her arms. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“I don’t dislike him,” Sunset replied.

Blake’s eyebrows rose sceptically.

“You have to admit, he’s a little bit of a vagabond,” Sunset said. “You could afford to hold yourself to a higher standard than that?”

“'Vagabond'?” Blake repeated. “Are you a snob?”

“No, I am not a snob,” Sunset said defensively. “I have standards.”

“You have judgmental instincts,” Blake corrected her. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have the chance to consort with princesses.”

“I suppose not,” Sunset conceded. She sighed. “Since you’re clearly not in the grimm studies, and since your boyfriend isn’t here-”

“Sun’s not my boyfriend,” Blake said.

Sunset stared at her flatly. “Seriously? If he’s not your boyfriend, then you really need to think about getting a restraining order, but more to the point, what in Remnant are you talking about? Of course he’s your boyfriend!”

“You’re probably right,” Blake admitted. “I suppose… I’m not used to having… 'boyfriend,' 'dating,' those are words that seem to belong to someone else. To someone… different, with a different life.” They belonged to the kind of spoiled Atlesian girls that Ilia had described at Crystal Prep; they belonged to Pyrrha, to Twilight, to more privileged and carefree girls who were not burdened by the weighty concerns that lay upon her shoulders.

And yet, they now belonged to her, all the same.

Blake wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. She liked Sun, but… could she really become that kind of girl? The kind who dated, the kind who had a boyfriend, the kind of lived that sort of life? That was not who she had been; was it someone she could be?

Was it someone that she wanted to be?

“Anyway,” Sunset said, “why don’t you go and find him? Do something… I don't know, fun. Flash used to take me to the movies when I was feeling down. We’d drive out to this drive-in theatre not far from the school and sit on the roof of his car and snuggle up under a blanket while some cheesy monster movie played.”

“That sounds… nice,” Blake said evenly. “But… no, Sun… I don’t want to put this on Sun.”

“Put what on Sun?” Sunset asked. “What’s up?”

“You know what’s up,” Blake replied. “Just because we stopped the White Fang at the docks, that doesn't mean we've stopped the White Fang. While you’ve been away in Mistral, the dust robberies haven’t let up; at this point, I’m half-amazed that there are any dust stores left to rob. And nobody is doing anything about it.”

“People are doing something about it,” Sunset countered. “They’re just not succeeding at the things they’re trying to do.”

Blake glared at her.

“Yeah, it’s a serious matter, I know,” Sunset assured her. “The point is, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, but I have to do something!” Blake yelled.

“Ruby almost died the last time you had to do something!” Sunset snapped, verging upon a snarl.

Blake gasped. The worst part was that, although she was a little upset that Sunset had gone there, she couldn’t really blame Sunset because, well, she was right. She had dragged them all to the docks, and Ruby had almost died, and… and if Sunset blamed or even hated her for that, then it was no less than Blake deserved.

“You… you’re right, I shouldn’t be… I’m sorry.” Her chair scraped against the floor as she got up. “I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Sunset said. “I should be the one apologising, I suppose. I didn’t mean-”

“Yes,” Blake said, cutting her off. “You did. And you were right to.” She turned to go – and nearly walked into Rainbow Dash.

“Rainbow Dash,” Blake murmured, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Rainbow replied. Her magenta eyes narrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“I… yes,” Blake lied. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I need you to come with me,” Rainbow said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to meet my friends,” Rainbow declared. “And then you’re going to owe me an apology.”

“Your friends?” Sunset repeated, from the table where she sat. “You mean… the Spectacular Six are here?”

“Yup, they came by for a visit.”

“The…Spectacular Six?” Blake murmured.

“What, you’ve never known the clique of cool kids to pick up a nickname?” Sunset asked.

“I’ve never known a clique of cool kids,” Blake replied. “I didn’t go to school, remember?”

“We were not a clique,” Rainbow protested. “We were just good friends who hung out together. Although, we were the cool kids.”

“And you want to introduce me to your friends?” Blake asked in confusion. “Why? I mean, the things I said-”

“It’s because of the things you said,” Rainbow declared. “I’m going to prove to you that humans and faunus can be friends, and I’m going to introduce you to the best people I know. And, honestly, you look like you could use some cheering up.” She took Blake by the arm. “So come on, you’ll enjoy it if you let yourself.”

Blake considered resisting. She considered protesting. She considered begging off, but… what was she going to do instead? Brood? Bemoan the inadequacy of Valish law enforcement? Wish that someone would do something? Spin castles out of the air of her plans to ‘do something’ all by herself? It wasn’t as though she was poised to bring down the Vale Chapter single-handed. She could… she could probably use the distraction. She could probably do much worse than to meet Rainbow’s friends and see if they were as genuine as even Sunset conceded they were.

The scraping of a chair alerted Blake to the fact that Sunset had got up, too. “Would you mind if I come too?”

Rainbow frowned. “Why?”

“Because I owe them all an apology,” Sunset explained.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” she conceded. “And you’re right, you do owe everyone an apology.”

Sunset nodded and followed behind them as Rainbow led Blake out of the library and out onto the courtyard of the school, where Twilight Sparkle was waiting along with four other girls of a similar age and three younger children.

“Everybody, this is Blake Belladonna. Blake,” Rainbow said, “these are my friends: Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy; that’s Applejack’s little sister Apple Bloom, Rarity’s little sister Sweetie Belle, and my surrogate kid sister and awesome in training, Scootaloo.”

“Scootaloo was nine years old!”

Blake nearly cringed at the memory as she looked down at the girl in front of her. She did look like a miniature Rainbow Dash; they even had the same hairstyle. Blake bent down a little. “I… I’m sorry, about what happened to you,” she said.

Scootaloo looked embarrassed, and a little annoyed. “It’s… you don’t have to… it doesn’t-”

“Just because she has prosthetic legs don’t mean you have to draw attention to it!” Apple Bloom reprimanded her, putting one arm around Scootaloo’s shoulder as she did so. Sweetie Belle closed in protectively on Scootaloo’s other side. “So what if she does?”

It was only then that Blake realised that her commiseration could have been – and clearly had been – interpreted to refer to Scootaloo’s conspicuous prosthetics. “No!” she cried. “I wasn’t talking about that; I meant the White Fang attack!” her voice softened. “Rainbow… she told me you were there. I imagine it must have been pretty scary for you.” She’d found her first raids for the White Fang pretty scary, when she was… well, she hadn’t been much older than these girls looked, to be perfectly honest, and she’d been terrified. She could only imagine how much worse it must have been to be put in that situation without a weapon.

“Oh,” Apple Bloom said. “Well… sorry, I guess. I just-”

“It’s fine,” Blake murmured. “I should have made myself clearer.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, her tone short and sharp. “As for the White Fang… it wasn’t that scary.”

Blake frowned. “No?”

“Because Rainbow Dash and all her friends were there,” Scootaloo said. “So I knew everything would be fine.”

Blake wasn’t sure how much of that was bravado after the fact, but she wasn’t about to question it. “I see,” she said softly.

“Plus, we had the real wedding afterwards and a super-awesome-fun party!” Pinkie cried. She hummed a few bars of a tune Blake didn’t recognise. “Oh, hey, Sunset.”

Sunset smiled awkwardly, looking a lot less certain about this than she had done in the library. “Hey,” she said, starting to wave and then appearing to think better of it. “Listen… I’m sorry, for what I tried to do to you. It was wrong of me. It’s just that I was-”

“You had us at ‘I’m sorry’, darling,” Rarity said. “There’s no need to say anymore.”

Sunset blinked. “Really? That’s it?”

“Sure,” Pinkie chirruped. “Did you think this would be hard or something?”

“Well… yeah.”

Pinkie’s smile squeaked. “Don’t be silly. So long as you’re sorry, that’s all that matters.”

“But… how do you even know that I’m sincere?”

“Because Rainbow and I have seen you trying to change,” Twilight said. “You’re proof that anyone can find their true friends if they look hard enough, and that with the right friends-”

“Even the worst person can become good, or at least decent?” Sunset asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but…”

“I’m not sure how I feel about being a social experiment,” Sunset muttered.

“Don’t sweat it; I’m one too,” Rainbow assured her. “It’s not a huge commitment.”

“Anyhow,” Applejack said. “Shall we go get somethin’ ta eat?”

“Sure,” Rainbow said. “Follow me.”

She led the group in the direction of Benni Haven’s, to which Blake had not yet been, for all that she had seen it praised by others, including Sunset and her own team. She had just… not yet had a reason to go.

“So, Blake,” Pinkie said, “do you like chocolate?”

Blake looked at her curiously. “I suppose so?”

“But what kind of chocolate, hmm?” Pinkie squinted, cupping her chin with her fingers. “I bet you like… taiyaki filled with chocolate, don’t you?”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “That was a very lucky guess.”

“There are no guesses where Pinkie Pie’s concerned,” Rainbow said.

“Then-”

“It’s something that you just have to take on trust,” Twilight informed her.

“Okay,” Blake murmured. “Um, why does it matter whether I like taiyaki or chocolate or… anything like that?”

“Well, there’s a lot of open space out here,” Pinkie said, “and according to Twilight, there are some shooting stars supposed to pass through the night sky. So I thought that we could have a picnic out on the grass and invite all of Rainbow and Twilight’s new friends to join us! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

It did, actually. It sounded… warm and cosy and nice and a great many other such pleasant-sounding words besides. Perhaps that was what made Blake shy away from it. “I wouldn’t call myself one of Rainbow or Twilight’s friends.”

“Why not?” Fluttershy asked quietly.

“I… I’d rather not say,” Blake replied. “But-”

“But you’re okay with us,” Rainbow declared, looking over her shoulder to wink at Blake. “As far as I’m concerned, you’d be welcome to join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Pinkie cried. “Hanging out with old friends is great, but it’s made even better when you can make new friends at the same time!”

“Unless you don’t want to go,” Fluttershy murmured. “We wouldn’t want to force you into doing anything that you don’t want to.”

Blake hesitated. “I just… I’ve never been much of a picnic person… but I guess that’s no reason why I shouldn’t start now, right?”

“No reason at all, sugarcube,” Applejack said.

“And Sunset, you still like caramel shortbreads, right?” Pinkie asked.

“Yeah, are you planning to buy all this stuff?” Sunset asked.

“Buy it?” Pinkie replied incredulously. “No! I’m going to make it!”

“You’re going to make taiyaki?” Blake asked.

“And cookies for Ruby and caramel shortbread for Sunset, and Applejack is going to help me with her famous apple fritters and-”

“How in Remnant are you going to make all of this for tonight?” Blake demanded. “How are you going to make any of this?”

“A party planner always comes prepared,” Pinkie said, as she reached into her mass of poofy pink hair and pulled out a boiled sweet. “Want one?”

“Uh… no, thank you,” Blake said. To Twilight, she whispered, “Should I not question that, either?”

“Best not to,” Twilight confirmed.

They reached Benni Haven’s, where Rainbow led the way into the rustic-looking, wooden cabin-like interior. The squirrel faunus woman who approached them as the large group trooped in must be Ms Haven herself. She fit the descriptions Blake had gotten from others.

“Sunset! Rainbow, Twilight! Boy, you got a big crowd with you today, and a big 'I ain’t never seen before' either.”

“These are some friends of ours from out of town,” Rainbow explained. “Visiting from Atlas.”

“And this is Blake Belladonna,” Sunset added. “Leader of Team Bluebell.”

“Team Bluebell, right, I get Lyra and Bon Bon in here all the time,” Benni said. She put one hand on her hip. “So how come it’s taken you this long to find your way to my door?”

Blake looked down at the ground. “Well, I-”

“Oh, don’t sweat it, kid; I’m only messing with you,” Benni assured her. “You don’t owe me anything, least of all an explanation.” She counted the number of girls in the party. “You might have to push a few tables together to sit you all, but there’s room for that. I’m afraid we don’t have any kids’ menus, but I suppose you girls are glad to hear that, huh?” She winked. “Find somewhere to sit, and I’ll be right with you.”

They found space in the centre of the restaurant, with Applejack and Rainbow Dash pushing tables together to create one long table down which there was space enough for everyone. Rainbow and Twilight sat in the centre, like king and queen amongst their court, with Scootaloo at Rainbow’s side, and the other two young girls sticking close by their sisters as the friends positioned themselves around Rainbow and Twilight. Blake and Sunset found themselves, or placed themselves, upon the fringes of the group, at the top end of the table.

Benni doled out the menus and then retreated to let them consider their options.

Rarity pulled out a pair of half-moon glasses from her purse and put them on to read. “So, Blake darling,” she said quietly, “have you thought about a longer coat?”

Blake looked up from her menu. “Um, no, I hadn’t?”

“You should consider it,” Rarity told her. “I think it would suit you. Not that your current outfit doesn’t suit you; I just think a longer coat, possibly something with long tails down to the ground, would act just a touch of… je ne sais quoi, to the whole thing.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Blake promised. And she meant it too; now that she thought about it… maybe a black waistcoat with a long white coat over the top?

“So,” she said, “are you all Atlas students? Those of you who are old enough, I mean.” She smiled. “Unless you three girls are such prodigies that you put Ruby to shame and got into Atlas earlier than most girls attend combat school.”

“No, they ain’t, and thank goodness fer that,” Applejack muttered. “Ah’m glad to say that General Ironwood has more sense than to be lettin’ kids into Atlas.”

Blake frowned. Her voice acquired a certain edge as she said, “You don’t think Ruby should be at Beacon?”

“Ah never said that,” Applejack countered. “Ruby is a fine girl, and she seems to believe in what she’s doin’ here, but there’s a reason the Academy don’t start until seventeen for most folks. People still got some growin’ to do. No reason to force them to grow up too fast.”

“Typical Applejack,” Sunset said. “Wanting to be the world’s big sister.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” Applejack said.

“No, but Ruby doesn’t need another big sister,” Sunset replied, “and you don’t need to worry about her either; she’s got what it takes.”

“It would be pretty cool to get into Atlas early,” Apple Bloom said wistfully.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Scootaloo said. “Rainbow Dash didn’t get let in early, and that extra time in Canterlot only made her even stronger, right, Rainbow Dash?!”

“You betcha,” Rainbow said, ruffling Scootaloo’s hair affectionately. “I did have some growing still to do.”

“Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are going to start at Canterlot Combat School this fall,” Sweetie Belle explained, “and I’m taking the aura training course.”

“The aura training course?”

“It’s something that Principal Celestia pioneered at Canterlot,” Fluttershy informed Blake. “It’s a special study track for people who aren’t interested in becoming huntsmen or huntresses but who want to train their aura and maybe find their semblances.”

“Okay, but why would you want to unless you were going to fight?” Blake asked.

“Some people say that finding your semblance will help you understand yourself a little better,” Twilight said, “and there are certain jobs in which it helps to have unlocked your aura and have a modicum of knowledge of what to do with it.”

“I love animals,” Fluttershy said, “and thanks to Canterlot, I was able to discover that my semblance allows me to communicate with them; I can understand them as if they were speaking our language, and they can understand me in the same way! I didn’t know that at the time, but I thought that if I knew a little about my aura, then maybe… maybe I’d feel brave enough to venture outside of the kingdom some time.”

“You wanted to leave the kingdom?”

“Not for good,” Fluttershy clarified, “but I wanted to travel to see what kinds of living creatures I could see out there. You see, one of the problems with the grimm that is often overlooked is that so few people are willing to travel out into the wilds without a very good reason… and for most people, studying the native wildlife of Remnant doesn’t really count. It’s my dream to put together a catalogue of all of Remnant’s native life, thriving in the parts of the world where humans struggle to survive. And I’m going to start now; Applejack has agreed to come with me as we head out into Vale.”

“Ah am an Atlas student,” Applejack explained. “In fact, me and Rainbow Dash were partners last year, but after our team got into some trouble… Ah decided to take a year out. Spend some time on the farm with my sister, help out a friend, that sort of thing.”

“I was going to become a huntress,” Rarity said. “At least, I was thinking about it, but my friends helped me to realise that my true calling lies in the world of fashion.”

“And I just had a feeling that Canterlot was where I was meant to be,” said Pinkie, as though it explained everything.

Perhaps, for her, it did.

“So, Canterlot is where you all met?” Blake asked.

“Yep!” Pinkie exclaimed. “It’s where we all met and became best friends!”

“Did you?” Blake asked. “Really?”

They all looked at her. “What do you mean by that, sugarcube?” Applejack asked, earnestly puzzled.

Blake glanced down at the table. “I thought… when I first met Rainbow Dash, I thought… I thought that there was no way that a group of humans could be friends with a faunus like this… now… I have to say you don’t seem to have very much in common. How is it that you can all be friends? How is it that humans can be friends with a faunus, in Atlas of all places?”

“What difference should it make?” Fluttershy asked.

“We may not share every interest, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t share a bond that unites our hearts,” Twilight declared. “A true friend isn’t just someone who shares the same passions as you, but rather, someone who will support you in all of your endeavours, just as you’ll support them in theirs. A friend will always be there when you need them, and we’ll always be here for one another.”

Someone – Blake thought it was Pinkie Pie, but she couldn't be entirely sure – stamped on the floor with both feet. And again.

Rarity's fair face was creased by a slight frown. "Pinkie, dear?"

Pinkie smiled and stamped her feet again. A grin spread across Rainbow's face as she joined in.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sunset muttered.

"What are you-?" Blake began, interrupted when Rarity, a soft smile playing across her features, clapped her hands together.

People in the restaurant were starting to turn to look at them as Rainbow, Pinkie, Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy all started stamping their feet on the ground and clapping their hands together in a percussive rhythm of stomp-clap-stomp-stomp-clap.

And then the five of them started to sing.

Hey! Hey! Everybody!

We've got something to say!

"Are they really doing this?" Blake murmured to Sunset.

We may seem as different,

As the night is from day,

"Yes, they are absolutely doing this," Sunset replied.

But you look a little deeper,

And you will see,

That I'm just like you,

And you're just like me, yeah!

The five of them leapt to their feet, sending their chairs flying back behind them.

Hey! Hey! Everybody!

We're here to shout,

That the magic of friendship,

Is what it's all about,

Yeah, we thought we were different,

As the night is from the day,

Until Twilight Sparkle,

Helped us see another way!

So get up, get down,

If you're gonna come around,

We can work together,

Helping Twilight win the crown.

"What crown?" Blake whispered to Sunset.

"Princess of the Fall Formal back in Canterlot," Sunset replied.

"You mean they've done this before?"

"Yes."

"Generous, honesty," Rarity trilled.

"Laughter, kindness, loyalty," sang Applejack.

Fluttershy took up the line, "Twilight helped us each to see."

And Rainbow finished with, "All that we can be."

So get up, get down,

Blake watched. It was one of the strangest things that she had ever seen, five more or less grown young women bursting into spontaneous musical number in the middle of a restaurant… but at the same time, it was kind of fun, too. She found herself tapping her foot along to the rhythm.

Even Sunset looked as though she was trying to keep the smile off her face.

So get up, get down,

Cause it's gonna make a sound,

If we work together,

Helping Twilight Sparkle,

Win the crown!

Rainbow and Rarity each took one of Twilight's hands in theirs, supporting her as she climbed up onto the table. Her friends fell silent as Twilight's voice emerged clear as a bell.

I'm gonna be myself,

No matter what I do,

And if you're different, yeah,

Want you to be true to you!

Blake gave in to her desire to smile. It might be odd. It might be outside of her lived experience. And they might be humans while Rainbow Dash was a faunus, and they might not even seem to have very much in common… but as she watched, Blake could only think that it must take a real bond to do something like this in a public place without a trace of self-consciousness visible from any of them.

Weirdly, as they sang, Blake found it was almost as if she could hear music.

When they were done, Twilight still standing on the table as the number finished, the entire restaurant erupted in applause.

"I should hire you girls to be the in-house entertainment," Benni said. "Because that was something else."

Blake ended up spending the rest of the day with the Spectacular Six, or with five of them at least, as Pinkie took over the kitchenette near the RSPT dorm room. Rarity dragged her aside – and Weiss too – to measure them both up for dresses, and the fact that Blake hadn't asked her to do this didn't seem to make much difference to Rarity, one way or the other. Blake watched in mildly horrified amazement as Rainbow Dash strapped on her wings, picked Scootaloo up in her arms, and took her flying through the skies above Beacon; yes, she wasn't flying particularly high, but still. She listened to their stories about Canterlot, about camping in the Everfree Forest, about Pinkie's parties and Rarity's boyfriend troubles and back-breaking work on Applejack's family farm; and as Blake listened, a great calm settled over her, descending like a blanket draped over her shoulders. The question of the White Fang, their activities in Vale, Adam's plans and murderous ambitions… for a little while, they all melted away, driven off by ordinary happiness and the panoply of ordinary lives well lived. It was as if they could disappear.

Of course it was not so; they remained out there, scheming, plotting… but for a little while, Blake could pretend that they did not, and Rainbow's friends made it very easy to do so, to put those particular fears and worries aside, to let them be the problems of another day.

And that night, as the broken moon rose above their heads and the stars shone and the green lights of the tower gleamed so brightly, Pinkie produced a spread such as Blake would never have guessed could be produced from the small kitchenettes that Beacon provided: cookies, cupcakes, angel cakes, large fudge cakes, a great variety of apple treats, more food, surely, than they could eat.

Which was why it was probably a good thing that it was not just for them; as Pinkie laid out the spread upon a large red and white chequered blanket, they were joined by Weiss and Flash, by Lyra and Bon Bon, and by Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha, all of them gathering around as the sounds of laughter filled the air and drifted up towards the skies through which the shooting stars would fly.

"You have lovely friends," Blake murmured as she leaned against a tree a little way off from the main gathering.

Rainbow was there too, resting her shoulder against the tree trunk as the leaves rustled above them. She folded her arms. "Yeah," she agreed. "They're the best. I'd…" She smiled briefly, and shook her head. "I'm so blessed," she said, instead of whatever it was she'd been about to say earlier.

"I can see that now," Blake said, her voice soft and quiet. "They really do care about you. I wouldn't have believed it, I didn't, but… so it really is possible." She bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "I was out of line, and I was a complete jerk, and… I'd understand if you didn't want anything to do with me ever again."

"Yeah, you were out of line," Rainbow agreed, "but I get why you did it, better now than I did when I thought you were… someone else. You were trying to help me out; you were just doing it really, really badly." She grinned. "But now… now I want to help you out a little too."

Blake looked at her. "Help me out how?"

"You wanted to show me that Atlas were the bad guys, right?" Rainbow said. "You wanted to show me that my friends didn't care, that they were faking it, that they were… I don't know, am I getting warm to what was going through your head?"

"Yes," Blake admitted. "I didn't want you to turn out like Ilia. I wanted to… to rescue you before it reached that point."

Rainbow snorted. "Because Atlas is the big bad guy keeping us down, and every Atlesian hates the faunus, and no human who claimed to care about me ever could, and one day, I was going to figure that out and snap, right?"

"Well when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous," Blake muttered.

"That's 'cause it kinda is," Rainbow told her. "We're not the bad guys, Blake. Not my friends, not Atlas. Sure, we fight the White Fang, but it's not because Atlas hates the faunus; it's because the White Fang keeps trying to kill people and blow things up!" Rainbow paused. "It's like Twilight's sister-in-law Cadance said when she got elected to the Council… let's see if I can actually remember this: 'let every people know, whether they wish us well or… or not, or something like that, something that means or not, whether they wish us well or not, that we will go anyplace, support any friend, oppose any foe, bear any burden, pay any price to… to ensure, insure, assure, something –sure the survival and the success of liberty.' That's what Atlas is all about, that's what we are. That's what I'm fighting for. That's what we're all fighting for. That… and those girls over there."

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards. "Bakers, would-be dressmakers, and girls who love animals?"

"What's more important than that?" Rainbow asked. "We can wipe out the White Fang tomorrow, we can kill all the grimm we like, and it doesn't matter if people like that can't live their lives with smiles on their faces."

Blake nodded. "When… when I was in the White Fang," she said, "all I wanted was for our people to be able to smile too."

"And they will," Rainbow promised. "But not that way."

"Hey, you two," Twilight called as she wandered over to them. "Come on, the party's over there, and the shooting stars are about to arrive."

Rainbow smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss that."

Blake followed her over, and they rejoined the crowd. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were both perched on the shoulders of their older sisters; Rainbow moved to the front, with Scootaloo standing between her and Fluttershy, looking up eagerly. Pyrrha wrapped her hands around Jaune's arm and leaned against him. Twilight picked Spike up off the ground and cradled him in her arms.

"Hey, Ruby, do you want me to give you a boost?" Sunset asked with a trace of laughter in her voice.

"I'm not that small!" Ruby protested.

"Here they come," Twilight whispered.

Blake looked up, and her golden eyes widened as a host of shooting stars began to blaze across the sky, in ones and twos and in great companies, blazing white trails flashing across the black shroud of night as they raced across Remnant. They had come from afar, and so many leagues lay ahead of them on their journey, but for now, they blazed, bright and brilliant and beautiful.

Just like us, Blake thought. Beacon is not the place where we began, nor is it where we will end… but it is where we blaze, for now.

"Everybody, make a wish!" Rainbow called.

"But don't tell anybody, or it won't come true!" Pinkie added.

I wish… I wish… Blake wished, as the shooting stars flashed overhead. I wish for peace.

The shooting stars rushed on, carrying the wishes, the hopes and dreams for the future away into that same uncertain, ineffable future. Their time was short, and they would be gone soon, just as their time at Beacon would soon be over and it would be their turn to depart into a future filled with uncertainty.

But not yet.

For now, they shone.

Best Day Ever (Rewritten)

Best Day Ever

Pyrrha wasn't exactly clear on how all of this had started. One moment, Ruby was flicking food at her sister from across the dining hall, the next minute, Sunset - dripping cream off her face from the pie that had struck her - had planted her foot on the table and yelled something that sounded like 'It. Is. On!' and then... Pyrrha was especially fuzzy on the ‘and then,’ but, well... now YDRN, WWSR, and BLBL had piled up the tables into a vast barricade at one end of the dining hall - with Nora perched precariously at the very top, and all the rest ranged about below like her guards - and she, Pyrrha, was charging up the hall with a baguette in her hand, and that must have happened somehow, even if she wasn't certain exactly how.

All she knew was that, as ridiculous as it might seem, it was also rather exhilarating.

It was probably exhilarating precisely because it was so ridiculous. She hadn't felt this rush of giddy enthusiasm for years on the tournament circuit.

But, as her dozen opponents armed themselves with various foodstuffs - it was an unusual breakfast selection today, with whole watermelons and roast turkeys and cream pies and all kinds of things she hadn't seen at all during the first semester - she felt it now, and she smiled in anticipation of what was to come.

Nora pointed magisterially down the hall at the advancing Team SAPR. "Get them, my minions! Attack!"

"'Minions'?" Weiss squawked, but in spite of that, the members of the three teams - most of them, at least - leapt forward in obedience to Nora's command, snatching up watermelons from the tables in front of them and hurling them at Pyrrha in a great barrage.

Pyrrha grunted as she leapt through the air, slicing the first watermelon clean in two. Its bisected halves landed on the floor at the same time as Pyrrha did. She spun on her toe, slicing two more watermelons into halves, obliterating a third with a strike that shattered it into fragments as red as blood, kicking one back at her opponents where Yang shattered it with a punch. Pyrrha shattered another watermelon, bisected another; her face and her clothes were getting covered in sticky red watermelon juice, but she didn't care because this was gloriously silly - her 'enemies' were hocking watermelons at her, for gods' sake, and she was fighting back with a baguette roll - like nothing that she'd ever done before.

The watermelon barrage continued, but suddenly, every single one of the swollen green fruits that had been launched through the air at Pyrrha stopped, sticking in the air, held there by some vast invisible hand.

Pyrrha glanced over her shoulder. Sunset stood just behind her, brow furrowed with concentration, one hand outstretched and wreathed in the green glow of what Pyrrha now knew to be Sunset’s magic. With her free hand, she scraped some residue of cream pie out of her fiery hair and gazed down at the mess on her fingertips as a result.

She winked at Pyrrha and smirked wickedly at their opponents. "Okay, let’s do this."

She jerked her hand forwards, just a little, and all of the watermelons were hurled backwards upon those who had first hurled them like a great wave descending on the shore. The members of the three teams scrambled for cover or just to get out of the way. Cardin upended a table to duck behind, Weiss grabbed a raw swordfish and impaled two watermelons upon the point, Flash simply took the hits from three without so much as flinching; most dodged, but Sky Lark and Russell Thrush weren't so lucky: both were struck hard enough to hurl them backwards and across the floor, where they lay in moaning, twitching lumps.

Lyra and Bon Bon were the first to charge. The former had a baguette like Pyrrha, but Bon Bon looked to have tied one end of a string of sausages around a turkey, while the other end of the sausages were wrapped around her hand.

Until the moment when she started using her bizarre weapon like a flail, unrolling the string of sausages as she threw the turkey at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha dodged, but the sound of an impact and a cry from Jaune told her that Bon Bon's strike had found a mark.

"Jaune, no!" Ruby cried. "You will be avenged!"

Bon Bon whirled her sausage-turkey flail around her head, her expression intense as she threw it at Pyrrha a second time. Pyrrha leapt, her whole body turning in mid-flight until she was upside down, her long ponytail falling. She could see the sausages beneath her, taut as they reached the limits of their length.

And Pyrrha reached out and grabbed them with her free hand. She landed on the ground and pulled before Bon Bon could react.
The other end of the sausage string was still wrapped around Bon Bon's wrist, and she was yanked forwards, her eyes bulging as she flew like an arrow straight into the baguette which Pyrrha slammed into her face.

Pyrrha let go of the sausages as Bon Bon flew backwards towards the barricade of tables.

Lyra attacked, her baguette held in both hands. Pyrrha parried her first few slashes easily, then went on the attack, driving Lyra backwards as she beat down the other girl's guard. She prepared a finishing strike-

Blake descended upon Pyrrha from above, a baguette held in each hand. Pyrrha parried. Blake was scowling with the effort, but Pyrrha was smiling because who would have thought that something like this could be so much fun?

They separated, each backing off a step, raising their baguettes into their guard of preference. Then, they charged.

Blake had been holding out on them, Pyrrha realised as they clashed, bread striking bread in a cacophonous rhythm of dull thumps ringing in an increasingly high tempo. She'd never seemed that skilled a fighter in their sparring class – not bad, but nowhere near Pyrrha’s level – but she was making Pyrrha work for this. Whenever Pyrrha thought that she'd gotten in a decisive blow, it turned out to be a clone which dissolved like shadow once struck, and only at that point could she see the real Blake about to hit her from the side or sense her presence behind her. Pyrrha parried every blow and forced Blake back with her counters, but it was a slighter margin of error then she was used to dealing with. Blake had definitely been holding back.

It was honestly a little bit of a relief when Lyra re-joined the contest. Two vs. one wasn't ideal, but Lyra provided a fixed point to focus on, restricting the places that Blake could be, and when Pyrrha focussed on Lyra, she made Blake focus on protecting her teammate, and that shut down Blake's options yet further. Not quite enough, as the fight continued. Bread thumped against bread: slash, parry, counter. Pyrrha wasn't losing, but she wasn't winning either.

She spotted Bon Bon picking herself up off the floor and preparing to rejoin the fight. Three against one would be far from perfect.

Pyrrha leapt, backflipping away from Blake and Lyra to land on one of the tables. Her feet scattered trays and dishes in all directions. She reversed her grip on the baguette and threw it at Bon Bon like a javelin. It flew straight and true and hit her squarely in the forehead, knocking her down again.

Pyrrha jumped down off the table as Blake and Lyra came for her, snatching up another baguette to replace the one she'd thrown away.

A sound from behind distracted her for a moment; she glanced, then turned her head as Ruby came surfing along the row of tables, riding a dinner tray, scattering everything in her path down onto the floor in two messy troughs before she and her tray made a flying leap off the table straight at Lyra. Lyra raised her baguette to parry desperately, but when the tray struck her and Ruby kicked off it, she was sent flying backwards across the hall, knocking tables and chairs askew as she went until she crashed through the far window and out into the grounds somewhere.

A look of glee settled upon Ruby's face... right up until Blake attacked her in mid-air, hitting her with a flurry of blows that hammered her into the nearest pillar hard enough to crack it.

Pyrrha dashed across the dining hall, leaping over the nearest table, discarding her baguette as she scooped Ruby up in her arms and carried her out of the way of the collapsing pillar. She placed the unconscious Ruby, her eyes closed, her face childlike in repose, gently on the ground.

Then she got up and glared at Blake.

Blake glared right back as she settled once more into her guard.

Pyrrha charged, picking up baguettes one after the other and hurling them at Blake in a rain of baked rolls. Blake batted a few aside with her own twin rolls, then Blake flipped out of the way as three baguette rolls buried themselves in the floor where she had just been standing. Pyrrha grabbed a tray, dumping its contents on the floor, and spun one foot after the other before she threw it straight at Blake Belladonna. Blake dodged the ungainly object, contorting her body as it flew past. Unfortunately, she had contorted her body in such a way as to leave her open as Pyrrha descended upon her, baguette in hand. She twisted, trying to regain her balance. Pyrrha didn't give her the chance. She struck Blake once, twice, three times, knocking her up into the air. Pyrrha leapt after and above her. Blake looked up at her. Pyrrha hammered her down. Blake landed on a table that shattered beneath the impact, and all that had been on the table shot upwards like an explosion before half-burying Blake beneath it.

Pyrrha landed. She saw Sunset, arms outstretched, levitating an enormous quantity of stuff - trays, plates, turkeys, watermelons, baguettes, pies, cakes, even chairs and the tables themselves - while Cardin, Flash and a back-on-his-feet Russell looked on in wide-eyed horror.

Sunset threw her hands forward, and upon the command of that swift gesture, all the things that she had levitated to hang above her shot forward like a river in spate. Russell wailed as he tried to run. Cardin swiped futilely with a turkey stuck on a baguette as though he could swat everything that threatened him away. Flash braced himself against the floor, grabbed a dinner tray to use as a shield, and prepared to take it head on.

The storm broke upon them. Cardin and Russell were swept away by it, carried away by the tide of dinner and furniture until it bore them into the wall. Flash stood against the hurricane for a while, not seeming to feel it at all as turkeys slammed into him, as plates shattered against his tray. That must be his semblance, Pyrrha realised. Some kind of shock absorption that lets him take hits without flinching. But it had limits, and when Sunset hit him with an entire table, it was enough to knock him sprawling.

Weiss leapt through the storm, jumping from tray to chair to table and then to the next tray, flying through the midst of Sunset's tempest as though it were nothing at all. Sunset tried to hit her with the detritus of her assault, she tried to keep the wave of debris swirling in motion so that Weiss would lose her footing and fall, but Weiss skipped through it all as though everything had been placed perfectly to give her places to jump off, and she descended upon Sunset with a swordfish in hand.

Sunset flung out one hand, and a flagpole flew from the wall and into her grasp. She wielded it two-handed, like a staff or a spear, and with it, she parried Weiss' first flurry of lunges as she landed on the floor.

Weiss drove Sunset back. Although Sunset worked hard in her training, and her hand to hand skills were improving constantly, she was no match for Weiss' well-honed skills with a sword, or even a swordfish. The dead creature, eyes glassy and mouth agape with surprise as it must have been when it was hauled out of the water, flickered forwards in a series of silver flashes, rattling against Sunset's staff as Weiss drove her hard in a series of perfectly poised, well-honed lunges. Weiss grabbed a bottle of ketchup off the nearest table and squirted it out on the floor in a wide arc, skating over the crimson substance with a dancer's grace, getting behind Sunset who, by contrast, flailed in an ungainly manner for balance on the suddenly wet and sticky floor. Weiss struck for Sunset's exposed back-

Sunset teleported away, and the instant she reappeared, she surrounded herself with a howling vortex of food and plates and the remains of smashed chairs, all of it swept up from the floor around her, all of it swirling around Sunset as though she stood in the centre of a tornado, protected as if by one of her shields from any approach of her enemies.

Or so she thought.

Weiss stared at this maelstrom of detritus for a moment. Then, grim-faced, she attacked. She leapt through the vortex, not only passing through it but using it. She attacked Sunset from every direction, using the very debris that Sunset had counted on to shield her as her springboards, leaping down at her from precarious footings, balancing on the most unlikely of objecs, battering Sunset from all sides, hammering her left and right and up into the air as the vortex she had created died around her.

And as Sunset began to fall, she found Nora waiting for her, with a flagpole of her own and a watermelon spiked to the top of it.

Nora grinned as she punted Sunset so hard that the watermelon shattered and Sunset was hurled through the ceiling and into the blue sky above.

There was a momentary pause as everyone waited to see if she would come down again.

She did, after a little while, crashing back through the ceiling in a different place, making a second hole in the roof, landing in a clatter of debris and with her face in a conveniently placed custard pie. She rolled over onto her side and then stopped moving, although she did groan occasionally.

And Pyrrha was left alone. One against five.

This never happened on the tournament circuit.

Pyrrha smiled. This was all so exciting!

She grabbed an armful of baguettes as she made a rolling leap, dodging a pair of turkeys flung at her by Yang - although a pained 'why?' from poor Jaune told her that he had once again taken a blow meant for her - as she started throwing them at each of her opponents. She caught Weiss and Dove, knocking them down, but Ren dodged, and Nora and Yang simply batted the makeshift missiles aside.

And then they came for her.

Ren was quick, Nora was strong; Yang was both fast and strong, if not as fast as Pyrrha normally. Together, they made one hell of a team. Pyrrha squirmed, striking out in all directions with her bread roll to fend of their assaults. Nora's windups took a while, but Yang was so agile that Pyrrha rarely had the chance to take advantage of it. She couldn't even really parry punches or hammer blows; she just had to focus on keeping one step ahead as the watermelon - Nora had found another one - hammer slammed into the ground again and again and Yang tried to punch her in the face with her turkey gloves. She managed to take out Ren, the weakest link, catching him across the jaw with a solid blow that sent him flying. Nora growled in anger as she swung her melon-on-a-pole, but Pyrrha ducked beneath the pole and grabbed it as it passed overhead so that she was swinging Nora, lifting the other redhead off the ground and slamming her into Yang.

Pyrrha watched and waited for the two of them to get up, if they would get up.

Yang was the first to leap to her feet, her turkeys gone, charging at Pyrrha with her bare fists. Pyrrha grabbed a nearby tray to use as a shield, taking Yang’s blow which dented the metal, even as Pyrrha infused it with her aura. She lashed out with her leg, tripping Yang and slamming the tray into her face, knocking her back again as Nora came at her.

A touch of Pyrrha’s semblance was sufficient to ensure that not only did Nora miss Pyrrha, but she swung all the way around and hit Yang square in the face, knocking her down for good.

“Uh oh,” Nora squeaked before Pyrrha hit her with an uppercut that sent her flying up towards the ceiling. Pyrrha leapt after her, tossing a tray up into the hair and holding it there with just the barest touch of polarity, leaping onto it and using it as a foothold. She hung suspended in the air for a moment as Nora flailed desperately for purchase.

Then Pyrrha leapt towards her, straight as a javelin and as graceful as a dancer, and wrapped her arms around Nora’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she drove Nora head first into the ground.

Nora groaned, but she didn’t try to get up again after that.

Pyrrha stood and surveyed the devastation all around her. She looked at the other students on the floor. And then she started to laugh.

"I don't think," she said, “that I have ever had so much fun in my entire life."

"Ugh, speak for yourself," Sunset groaned. She lifted her head up. "So... did we win?"

Pyrrha stopped laughing long enough to reply. "Yes. Yes, Sunset, we won."

Sunset whooped, or tried to. "Awesome. The Invincible Team. Ugh." She groaned as her head slumped down onto the floor again.

Ruby, by contrast, was beaming excitedly. "I knew that you could learn to have fun if you tried! And all it took was...uh," - she looked around - "destroying the cafeteria? Uh-"

They were interrupted by the sound of clapping from the open doorway of the dining hall.

Team RSPT stood framed in the doorway, or at least, most of them did. Ciel, covered in watermelon fragments, looked very displeased as she stood with one hand upon Penny’s arm, restraining what appeared to be Penny’s desire to join in. Rainbow Dash was shielding Twilight with her body… but she was also applauding.

“That was awesome!” Rainbow yelled. “You guys decided to have an amazing practice fight like that without inviting us? Come on, guys! I thought we were friends.”

“And as your friends, you should be thanking them, Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said as she appeared behind them, “for ensuring that there is not another item to be reported to General Ironwood about your behaviour while at this school.”

Rainbow yelped. “Professor Goodwitch!” she said, leaping around and coming to attention. “Are you sure you’re not a ninja?”

Professor Goodwitch stared down at her, her expression unamused.

Rainbow laughed nervously. “So… uh… words can get taken out of context and-”

“Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said acidly. “Perhaps you should take your team somewhere else.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Rainbow barked. “Team Rosepetal… move out!”

She led the way, marching stiffly past the deputy headmistress. The rest of her team followed, even if Ciel looked as though she was dragging Penny, who waved to her friends as she was led elsewhere.

Professor Goodwitch’s heels clicked upon the dining hall floor as she stalked inside. “As for the rest of you-”

“Let it go,” Professor Ozpin said calmly as he approached her from behind. His smile was genial, even benign. “I think we can indulge one day of blowing off steam before the semester begins.”

Professor Goodwitch huffed in annoyance. “They’re supposed to be the defenders of the world.”

“They’re supposed to become the defenders of the world,” Professor Ozpin corrected her. “And they will. But for now, they are also children, so why not let them play the part?” His voice became almost melancholy as he turned away. “After all, it isn’t a role they’ll have forever.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: I was in two minds as to whether or not I wanted to keep this chapter, until I reread it and found it was actually more fun than I remembered. For that reason the only real change is the end, in which RSPT complain about missing out on said fun, and a little of Ozpin and Goodwitch's canon dialogue is incorporated.

Welcome to Beacon (Rewritten)

Welcome to Beacon

A flight of Atlesian AT-38 Skygraspers buzzed over Rainbow Dash’s head as they banked over the rooftops of Beacon Academy. The blowback from their engines beat against Rainbow’s face and ran through her many-coloured hair; Weiss didn’t fare much better, her long ponytail bouncing this way and that, blown into her face as she tried to brush it away. The boys, with their much shorter hair, fared a lot better.

Rainbow shielded her face with one hand and watched as the Atlesian airships turned away; those airships anyway. The four Skygraspers – for Rainbow’s money, the best-looking airships in the Atlesian arsenal, even if they weren’t the best at anything but transporting androids – were not out here alone or flying over Beacon for the fun of it. Just like Rainbow Dash wasn’t up on the roof with Weiss, Flash, and Cardin for her health, or the health of anybody else, for that matter.

They were up here watching the Atlesian fleet arrive over Vale.

The skies over Vale – and over Beacon Academy – were filled with the panoply of Atlesian military prowess. The sleek, majestic black cruisers had long, lance-like hulls, with four squat and boxy laser cannons slung beneath and six spindly engines emerging from behind. The frigates, medical or otherwise, were smaller, but conformed to the same general shape, with long narrow hulls sharpening to a point like the tip of a spear while six wings jutted out from behind to control motion in all three dimensions; the combat frigates had a single cannon mounted beneath the hull, the medical frigates none. The carriers looked like civilian airships, but wider, with more space for the fighters and bombers crammed within. Skygraspers with their sleek bodies and fish-like fins; round and slightly bulbous AT-39 Skyrays; AF-22 Skyhawks that looked like flying cockpits with engines strapped to the back and guns underneath; squared-off and ungainly-looking AB-10 Skybolts with their racks of missiles underneath the fuselage and a manned gun turret behind the cockpit; the many-engined AF-55 Skydart also had a turret behind the cockpit, but it was unmanned and, in Rainbow’s opinion, mostly there to look cool. All of these airships, from the largest cruiser to the smallest fighter – the Skyhawk – soared through the clouds that hung over Vale, casting their shadows over the city and over the river that cut through the centre of it as they headed towards Beacon.

The first cruisers were already docking – or else had docked – on the blue-and-black pads just outside of Beacon, while more of the stately black vessels were still gliding in, coming into view one after the other while their supporting airships flocked around them, preceding their coming and covering their flanks and rear as they made their entrance.

Rainbow watched the cruisers come in. She watched the narrow, angular black shapes eclipse the skies as they passed overhead. She watched the dropships and the fighters and the bombers keep pace or else zoom back and forth between the warships and designated but unseen markers. And as she imagined all the firepower contained in each ship and all the manpower within it, Rainbow couldn’t avoid a sense of awe descending over her.

Atlas ruled the skies with its air fleet. With their absolute air superiority, they could bring the fight – and the pain – anywhere they chose. Only specialists operated out of range of air support from at least a squadron of airships, if not a cruiser; meanwhile, the mobile infantry blessed the navy and called in an airstrike whenever things got too tough. No matter how numerous the grimm were, no matter how ferocious, when you looked up and you saw that black lance shape overhead, you knew you were going to be okay because your friends in the sky were looking out for you. And when the enemies of Atlas looked up and saw those ships coming straight towards them, they knew fear because the heavy end of the heaviest hammer in Remnant was about to drop down on them with great force.

The air fleet was the heart of the Atlesian military, and those ships were the iron might of Atlas rendered in physical form out of titanium alloy and armour plate.

And now that heart had come to Vale.

“I’ve never seen so many ships outside of Atlas before,” Flash muttered as he gazed, his blue eyes wide, at the approaching fleet.

“Me neither,” Weiss conceded. “What are they all doing here?”

“It’s a goodwill visit in support of the Vytal Festival,” Cardin declared.

Rainbow looked at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

Cardin looked down at her, and a muscle in his face twitched. It was something that Rainbow had noticed whenever he had to talk to her, like he was struggling not to call her a horse or something.

Actually, there was no ‘like’ about it; Rainbow was certain that was exactly what was going on. She… it would be a bit much to say that she didn’t mind, but he wasn’t actually calling her a horse, so she could live with the fact that he wanted to.

“My grandfather is on the Council,” Cardin declared pompously. “He told me that the Atlesians would be coming.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured. “Doesn’t mean that he told you the truth.”

“Are you saying my grandfather lied to me?” Cardin demanded. “He would never-”

“Lying is a strong word for a grandpa telling his kid the official story,” Rainbow told him.

“Do you know something we don’t, Dash?” Flash asked, a touch of anxiety in his voice. “Did General Ironwood tell you something?”

“If he had, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to say it,” Rainbow replied. “But… no, I haven’t spoken to the General in a while.” She’d been… she didn’t want to say that she’d been too scared after everything that had gone down with Blake and the docks and all, but… yeah, she’d been too scared. Rainbow Dash didn’t need Pinkie’s powers of perception to see a dressing down in her future, and she wasn’t eager to bring it about any faster than she needed to.

“But you think there’s something more going on,” Weiss pointed out.

Rainbow nodded. “So far, I’ve counted six cruisers, two carriers, and three frigates; Atlesian warships operate in squadrons of four cruisers, one carrier, three combat frigates and a medical frigate, so there are probably at least two more cruisers and three more frigates left to come in. If they’re fully manned, each of those cruisers is carrying a rifle company, a military huntsman platoon, two companies' worth of androids, all their gear, and enough Skyrays and Skygraspers to move them all.” Rainbow gestured to one of Skydart squadrons, one with the wingtips of their fighters painted blue and marked with the insignia of a winged thunderbolt. “You see those airships? That’s Wonderbolt Squadron, the best pilots in Atlas and pretty good huntsmen too. All of this, and some of the best that Atlas has? You don’t come loaded for ursai unless you’re expecting to go on a hunt.”

“The White Fang?” Flash suggested.

“Probably,” Rainbow agreed. “It’s not like they’ve stopped. The General probably wants to make sure that all of the students are safe for the Vytal Festival, in case they try anything.”

“The White Fang,” Cardin growled.

“Hey,” Rainbow said, not just to Cardin but to all of them. “Don’t worry. The power of Atlas is here to protect you now!”

Cardin gave Rainbow a look like he’d like to shove her off the rooftop.

“Yeah, I’m kidding, but I’m also being serious,” Rainbow explained. “I guarantee it, nothing will get past all of that in one piece.”

“I hope you’re right,” Weiss said.

“I am right,” Rainbow insisted. “If any of you were losing sleep over the White Fang – or anything else – you can stop now.” She turned away and walked through the door that led down from the roof and into Beacon’s spacious complex of dorm rooms.

She was not quite as confident as she had made out in front of her fellow Atlesians and Cardin. Yes, the force that General Ironwood had dispatched to Vale was a formidable one, and she had no doubt that it was strong to fend off any attack... that it saw coming. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? The Atlesians were masters of straight-up warfare; their guns, their ships, their soldiers were the best in the world. But the White Fang didn’t fight straight up, at least not if they could avoid it. They snuck around, they lurked in the shadows, they struck when you least expected it – like at weddings. The whole might of the Atlesian fleet hadn’t prevented Chrysalis from nearly abducting Cadance or from nearly managing to kill them all before the cavalry arrived. Just because Blake had turned out to be just seriously misguided and not a White Fang infiltrator didn’t mean that the White Fang wouldn’t manage to do the same thing here.

All the same, Rainbow would rather face a situation like this with a fleet nearby than without. Firepower made up for a lot of deficiencies in a fight.

Rainbow arrived back at the RSPT dorm room and pulled her scroll out of the pocket of her sports jacket to open the door. She found her teammates gathered around the right-hand work desk, where Twilight had her scroll out.

Ciel looked up. Her expression betrayed her unspoken curiosity.

"I saw six cruisers before I left, plus two carriers and support frigates," Rainbow said as she closed the door behind her. "They've got all kinds of birds in the air, close escorts and outriders. Someone wants to make a big entrance."

"That confirms the chatter we've been hearing," Ciel replied, "and that someone is General Ironwood."

Rainbow's eyes bulged a little. "The General came here himself?" Headmasters didn’t travel to other academies for the Vytal Festival – someone had to hold down the fort back home and teach the students who weren’t travelling – which meant that the General was here as, well, the General. This White Fang stuff must have him seriously concerned.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

Twilight must have tapped into the channel the Atlesian forces were using – it wasn’t technically breaking the rules; they did have access to the secure military channels after all – because the speakers were projecting a mass of radio chatter into their room as the various ships and squadrons coordinated their movements over Vale.

"Thunder Child, you are clear for docking pad two; please start your approach now."

"Affirmative, Control; Thunder Child beginning approach now."

"Hey, Spitfire, looks like we've got civilians watching us. How about we give 'em a victory roll?"

"Negative, Misty; maintain formation and set course."

"Aww, Captain, you never let us have any fun."

"Cut the chatter, Soarin’; this is a business channel."

"Glorious, you're coming it too steep for docking pad three; please correct your angle of approach."

"Roger, Control, correcting now."

"Resolution, hurry up and finish off-loading ASAP; Valiant is on approach and requires the deck."

Ciel picked up a notepad on which she had scribbled several names. "So far, chatter has identified cruisers Thunder Child, Endeavour, Glorious, Courageous, Resolution, Valiant, and Vigilant. Thunder Child, Endeavour, and Glorious are with the First Battle Squadron, so I would expect the Hope to make an appearance also; Courageous, Resolution, and Vigilant are with the Fourth Squadron, so the eighth ship will be our old friend the Gallant. Carriers will be Joseph Colton and Nicholas Schnee."

"You've got the order of battle for the entire fleet memorised, don't you?" Rainbow asked. She wasn't even surprised anymore.

"And the reserve list," Ciel clarified. "In any case, Valiant is General Ironwood's personal flagship, hence he must be leading this expedition."

"Mister Ironwood… he isn’t just coming to watch me fight in the tournament, is he?” Penny asked.

Rainbow frowned. “No, Penny, he wouldn’t need a fleet to do that. It probably has something to do with the White Fang activity. He doesn’t want to send all of the students down here for the Festival without any cover in case things go… in case the White Fang try anything else like they did at the docks.”

“Do you think so?” Twilight said. “I mean… it’s not like you can call in an airstrike against terrorists.”

“Uh, we already have,” Rainbow reminded her.

Twilight blinked. “Okay, yes, but they weren’t acting like terrorists at the time,” she said.

“I get what you’re saying, but any backup is good backup, and any way that we can get backup sooner is a good thing in my book,” Rainbow replied.

"General Ironwood is not bound to explain his reasoning to us," Ciel declared. "But perhaps he is attempting to overawe our enemies with a display of force, so that they will dare to step into the light again."

"You’re right,” Twilight agreed, with a slight sigh in her voice. “But at the same time… I don’t know, it’s probably nothing. Just… a feeling, like there’s something more going on.”

“Despite the asymmetrical nature of the conflict, the General’s actions make sound strategic sense,” Ciel said. “With Vale’s huntsmen deployed to the outlying settlements to combat the unusual grimm activity in the provinces, our forces are well-placed to fill the void as a deterrent.”

“You mean we’re going to scare off the bad guys?” Penny asked.

Rainbow grinned. “Yes, Penny, that’s exactly what it means. We’re going to scare the bad guys and make the good guys sleep safe at night.”

“Like Ruby and Pyrrha?”

Twilight chuckled. “I’m not sure that either of them need the help sleeping, but… yes, our friends.”

Rainbow's scroll buzzed before either Penny or Ciel could reply.

"Twi, turn that off," Rainbow said, gesturing to Twilight’s scroll. Twilight cut off the Atlesian comm chatter by closing up her scroll before Rainbow opened up her own.

She was confronted by the face of General Ironwood. "Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow Dash stood to attention. “Sir!”

"Team Rosepetal is to report to docking pad one and board the Valiant immediately once it docks,” General Ironwood declared. “I’ll see you immediately when I return.”

"Return from where, sir?" Rainbow asked.

The look on General Ironwood’s face told her that such questions were beyond her purview.

"Right," Rainbow muttered. "Will do, sir."

"Good," General Ironwood said. "And Rainbow Dash?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Congratulations on a successful operation," General Ironwood said, the hint of a smile playing across his face. "Pass my compliments onto your team."

Okay, I might just survive this after all. "Roger that, sir. It's appreciated."

"Understood. Ironwood out."

Rainbow folded up her scroll as the general’s face disappeared. “I think we might not be in quite as much trouble as I was worried about,” she said hopefully.

“Really?” Twilight asked. “It’s hard to believe that we could not be in trouble after what happened.”

“Oh, we’re definitely in trouble,” Rainbow said, “but we might not be in so much trouble.”

Professor Ozpin stood at this window, watching as the Atlesian students disembarked from their warships and set off down the path that led towards Beacon proper. He had asked Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck to meet them and show them to their dorm rooms. The Haven students would be arriving later and would be greeted by Professor Peach.

When they were all assembled, he would have them gather in the Amphitheatre and welcome them all to Beacon for the new semester, but for now, he would let them find their rooms and get settled in.

“I feel safer already,” Glynda muttered.

Ozpin chuckled softly. “Indeed. One begins to wonder how we managed without them.” It was probably a little unkind of him to mock James’ well-meaning efforts, but the fact was that he could not help but see such efforts as fundamentally misguided.

There would be no victory in strength. Ships and armies would avail them nothing in the end… and might do much harm beforehand, if they caused the spread of panic.

It was a pity that James couldn’t see that for himself.

Ozpin turned away from the window and the unsightly cruisers dominating his docking pads; just in time, as the elevator doors opened and James Ironwood strode into the office.

“Ozpin,” he said genially as he walked in, the shadows of the gears that ground above falling across his face. “Glynda. It’s been too long.”

The corners of Glynda’s lip twitched ever so slightly. “James. How is Luna?”

The smile faded from Ironwood’s face. “Safe in Canterlot, as always.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ozpin said. He picked up the teapot that sat on his glass desk. It was a little odd to keep a teapot full of hot chocolate, but as the headmaster, he was allowed his eccentricities. “May I offer you a drink?”

“Thank you,” Ironwood said.

Ozpin poured a Beacon mug, marked with the double axes, full of hot cocoa and held it out to Ironwood, who accepted it graciously.

Ironwood pulled out a metallic flask.

“Drinking?” Glynda asked archly. “At this hour? And with cocoa?”

Ironwood chuckled. “Cream from Atlas; I know what kind of refreshment I’m going to be offered in this office.” He poured a dash of the white liquid into the mug.

“Glynda?” Ozpin said, offering Glynda a cup.

“No, thank you, Professor,” Glynda said quietly.

Ozpin set down the teapot and picked up his own cup of hot chocolate. It was still warm upon his tongue, thankfully. He swallowed. “How are your students?”

“I feel as though I should ask you; you’ve been teaching the best of them for the last semester,” Ironwood replied.

Ozpin chuckled at that. “I’m told that Miss Dash is one of the stars of the leadership and combat classes.”

“You have taught her well, I admit,” Glynda muttered.

“But you have many more students than Team Rosepetal,” Ozpin reminded James.

“And I’m teaching them to be the best huntsmen I can,” Ironwood repeated.

“Huntsmen?” Glynda repeated. “Or soldiers of Atlas?”

Ironwood glanced at her. “Soldiers of Atlas are protectors of the whole world.”

Glynda stared at him evenly. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Ironwood raised his chin a little, although he seemed to not be trying to look down upon her. “I do,” he declared. “These children will do Atlas – and all of Remnant – credit when they graduate. Or sooner, if they are allowed.”

Ozpin was silent as he walked around his desk and sat down in his metallic chair. He didn't regret for a moment bringing Ironwood into his inner circle, although Qrow might disagree with him; James was brave, stalwart, and even reasonably loyal. Ozpin did not believe he could have chosen anyone better to run Atlas Academy on his behalf. But the man had no tact, no subtlety, and Ozpin's attempt to teach him both had, sad to say, met with failure. Their present situation was a case in point.

He swallowed a large amount of his rapidly cooling cocoa. "What would you have me do, James?"

"I want you to trust me as I have trusted you for so many years," Ironwood declared. He leaned heavily on the desk. "You have your favourites. You choose them, and you prepare them, and when the time is right, you bring them in. Qrow, Glynda... I have people too, good people who could be valuable assets to our cause if you would only consider-"

“You want to submit one of your students to be the next Fall Maiden?” Glynda said, her voice almost disbelieving. “Knowing what it could do to her?”

Ironwood straightened up, silent for a moment. “That… that’s the irony of it, isn’t it?” he asked, almost to himself. “How are your students, Ozpin, Glynda?”

Glynda almost smiled. “Some of them are a pleasure to teach, others… less so.”

“As you yourself have pointed out, we have our favourites,” Ozpin said mildly. “Some impress more than others.”

“Sometimes, we are impressed by different students,” Glynda remarked pointedly.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair. This was not the first time that he had had this argument with Glynda, but it was a pleasant distraction from the discussion with Ironwood. “You cannot deny the skill of the individual members of Team Sapphire-”

“And you can’t deny that Team Iron are more balanced and coordinated,” Glynda insisted. “Miss Xiao Long doesn’t have any of the emotional oversensitivity that is weighing down Miss Nikos.”

“You would have me choose her for the Fall Maiden?” Ozpin asked. “Goodness knows what Qrow or Tai would have to say about that.”

“They might understand,” Ironwood said. “As I said, it’s the irony: the ones we care about the most are the ones that impress us the most, and those that impress us so much… are the ones we might have to throw into the fire.”

“We bear a heavy burden, James,” Ozpin agreed, “a burden no living man should have to bear. And that is why we do not place this burden upon the children.”

“At this rate, we won’t have a choice,” Ironwood insisted. “She’s coming for you now.” He sighed. “It’s not just the dust shops in Vale; the White Fang are interdicting the rail line to Cold Harbour with alarming regularity. They’re planning something. Something big.”

“Isn’t that why you brought your fleet?” Glynda inquired archly.

“It is,” Ironwood confirmed. “But… I’m just not sure that our children are going to have time to grow up as we might like.”

“We all fear that, James,” Glynda murmured.

“Which is why we must do our best to hold the line,” Ozpin said, “as best we can.”

Weiss stood to the side of the path leading from the docking pads to Beacon – or vice versa – and fiddled with the hem of her skirt as the Atlesian students emerged from the belly of the cruiser to march down the grey path towards Beacon.

'Marching' was the correct description for what they were doing, for the Atlesian students moved in a more regimented fashion than the Beacon students that Weiss was used to. They did not exactly move in a single formation, but each team kept to a straight line, members aligned perfectly, moving in lockstep as they advanced. Which was not to say that all traces of individuality had been vanquished from the Atlas students; although they wore their uniforms of grey and white, a few appeared to have found some way of personalising them, like the girl with the long white hair who was wearing a purple cape decorated with moons and stars over her uniform, like a more garish, slightly older Ruby. But there was a discipline to them that the Beacon students lacked, exemplified by the way in which they did not talk, or else talked so quietly that they could scarcely be heard above the clanking of the androids – the new AK-200 variant, pristine and white and practically shining – who shepherded their column along, even as they were led by Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck, who both talked enough to make up for the relative silence of the Atlesian students.

Few of them looked at Weiss or Flash as they waited for the visiting students to pass; few of them turned their heads in any way. A metallic knight scanned both of them, but Weiss presumed that it had access to the student records, or at least to face ID for all the Beacon Students, because it took no action against them.

They were left alone, waiting.

Where was Winter? Weiss couldn’t see her, and yet, Winter had messaged her that she would be arriving with the student body. Weiss hadn’t connected that at the time to the idea that Winter would be arriving as part of… well, part of what might be the largest expedition to set forth out of the north since… since the end of the Great War.

Who would have? Nothing like this has ever happened as part of the Vytal Festival before.

No Vytal Festival ever took place against the backdrop of rising White Fang attacks before.

Although, to be frank, at this moment, the threat of the White Fang worried her less than the threat of Winter’s disapproval.

“Is this how you act when you’re nervous?” Flash asked.

Weiss pouted… but only for a moment, because it was hardly something that she could deny. “I take it that I’m usually better at concealing the fact?”

“To be honest, I can’t say I’ve ever noticed you nervous until now,” Flash admitted.

Weiss favoured him with a gentle smile for that, because it was nice for him to say so, even if she didn’t think that it could possibly be true. “It’s important for me to make a good impression,” she said. “Winter… Winter is everything that I aspire to be. Well, everything except a soldier of Atlas. But as a gifted huntress, as an…” she stopped short of saying ‘as an independent woman’ because she was not quite ready to air her family laundry in front of Flash at this time. She was, however, willing to admit, “As someone… tall, Winter is the sort of person I hope to become. Just as I hope she will agree that I’m off to a good start.”

“And you’re sure that you want me here for that?” Flash asked.

“You’re my partner,” Weiss reminded him, “I’m sure that Winter will be keen to meet you.” She paused. “And the truth is… I’d rather wait with someone.”

“Weiss.”

Weiss turned. The Atlesian students had all departed now, proceeding down the tree-lined path and into the spacious courtyard. Now it was her sister who was approaching from the ship.

Captain Winter Schnee was a tall young woman, seeming taller by the way that her bearing was ever so martial and erect, her back arched and her head held high. She had the classic Schnee features: eyes of icy blue and hair as white as snow worn in a high, severe, tight bun, with a long fringe brushed across the right hand side of her face without concealing any of her features. She was dressed in the white and blue of an Atlesian specialist: a dark blue waistcoat with a white jacket over the top and grey thigh-high boots over white britches. In concession to the weather here in Vale, the arms of her jacket were slit from shoulder to elbow, exposing her arms to view. She wore a sabre at her hip, and Weiss knew that there was a second blade concealed within the hilt of the first. Her black-gloved hands were clasped behind her back.

She approached them briskly, her boots tapping upon the stone of the path that led to Beacon.

“Winter!” Weiss cried out enthusiastically and took a few steps towards her elder sister before remembering her place. She was a Schnee, the Schnee heiress in point of fact; she must have poise and dignity. She curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, sister. Your presence honours us.”

Winter regarded her with a gaze as cold as the north itself. “Indeed,” she said softly. She sniffed. “The air feels different to when I was here last.”

“Someone probably hadn’t just parked a fleet overhead when you were here last,” Flash said.

“Flash!” Weiss hissed.

Winter's gaze fell upon him. “Excuse me… young man,” she said. “I don’t believe that we have been introduced.”

Weiss cleared her throat. “Winter, allow me to introduce my partner, Flash Sentry.”

Flash bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Winter arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Partner?”

“School partner,” Weiss clarified.

For a moment, it seemed as though Winter would smile. Instead, she merely bowed, very slightly, from the waist. “A pleasure to meet you, Flash Sentry. Thank you for shielding my sister’s side in battle.” She paused for a brief moment. “Am I right in assuming that you are the son of Silver Sentry?”

Flash sucked in a breath. “You assume correctly.”

“I suppose it is no stranger to find you here than it is to find Weiss,” Winter observed. She returned her attention to Weiss, and now, she did smile, if only a little. “How have you been, Weiss?”

Weiss smiled. “In addition to being named team leader, I am consistently one of the highest performing students-”

“I’m not interested in your performance; I’m interested in you,” Winter clarified with obvious impatience. “Save your defence of your grades for father when he calls. How are you? Are you enjoying yourself here at Beacon? Are you making any friends?”

“I’m not a child, Winter,” Weiss complained.

“No, you are the dolt who flew a locker into the middle of a firefight,” Winter remarked acidly. “What in Remnant possessed you?”

Weiss felt her face chill. “You… you know about that?”

“'Further assistance was rendered by Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry, who conducted an aerial insertion directly into the combat zone using Beacon’s rocket lockers,'” Winter said, as if she were reciting. “From Rainbow Dash’s after action report on the incident at the docks. I ask again: what possessed you?”

“It was the only way of getting down to the docks in time,” Weiss replied. “There were no airships available, and it would have taken far, far too long to drive, let alone to walk.”

“So you chose to risk your own safety?” Winter demanded. “You could have been killed simply by reaching the combat zone. And what made you decide to rush into battle with the White Fang in the first place?”

“That is my fault, ma’am,” Flash said. “Friends and fellow students were in danger; I couldn’t just let them die.”

“It was my decision,” Weiss insisted. “I am the team leader, and the decision on our unusual method of entering the fray came from me. All consequences also lie with me.”

Winter regarded them both silently for a moment. “I think Grandfather would have been proud of you,” she said.

Weiss’ eyes widened a little. She could not prevent the smile from spreading across her face. “Really? You think so?”

“I do,” Winter confirmed. “I, on the other hand, think that this incident demonstrates that you still have a great deal to learn.” Her tone softened. “But you still have a great deal of time in which to learn it. Come, show me to your quarters.”

“My… you mean our room?”

“I wish to make sure it is up to standard,” Winter elaborated.

“Of course,” Weiss said without a trace of the reluctance she felt entering her voice. “This way.” Flash walked beside her, and Winter just a step behind, as they led her back towards Beacon.

They met Team RSPT coming the other way, dressed in uniform like the other students, their faces – Rainbow’s face at least – grim and solemn.

“Ten hut!” Rainbow called at the sight of Winter, and she and Ciel slammed their boots onto the ground. Penny and Twilight were a little slower off the mark in that regard.

Rainbow saluted.

Winter returned the salute. “At ease.” When the four students took the position, Winter added, “You’re on your way to see the general?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good luck,” Winter said, “and congratulations on a successful engagement.”

Weiss’ mouth hung open. She turned to face her sister. “Wha- why do they get congratulated while I get called a dolt?”

“They didn’t fly into battle in a locker,” Winter reminded her.

The corridor outside of the General's office aboard the Valiant, the corridor in which Team RSPT waited to receive General Ironwood's displeasure, had no windows but was brightly lit nonetheless. It was a pure white, sterile kind of light, illuminating a sterile grey metallic corridor with little in the way of distinguishing features except the arcane direction signs painted on the wall, indecipherable to the uninitiated. There were places aboard this ship that were monuments to Atlesian technological achievement, but this corridor wasn't one of them. The door into the office was barred by a marine guard - his face concealed behind his helmet - who stood to attention before the door and never so much as glanced at the huntresses waiting nearby.

Rainbow and Ciel stood at ease; Twilight, whose position in the military was unclear, stood awkwardly with her hands clasped in front of her; Penny fidgeted like a bored toddler.

"Officer on deck, ten-hut!" Ciel barked as footsteps began to echo down the corridor.

Rainbow stood to attention on reflex, her foot slamming down onto the deck as her hands snapped to her sides.

General Ironwood strode down the corridor, his stride brisk and martial.

Rainbow and Ciel saluted, but he strode to the door without acknowledgement of either of them or Twilight.

It wasn't until Penny said, "Good morning, Mister Ironwood," and offered him a cheery wave besides, that the general stopped in front of his door.

General Ironwood turned slowly. His expression was grave as he returned the salutes of Rainbow and Ciel, but all of his attention was clearly fixed on Penny herself. When he spoke - to her and only to her - his tone wasn't without warmth. "Penny, under the circumstances, from now on, it would be best if you called me General."

"Affirmative, Mister General!"

The General chuckled. It was a strange sound to come out of his mouth. Rainbow found it practically disconcerting. "That's not quite what I meant, but never mind. It's good to see you again. And you, Twilight."

“Uh, it’s good to see you too, sir,” Twilight said tremulously.

The door to the office slid open at the General’s approach with a hydraulic hiss. “Inside, all of you,” he commanded.

Twilight winced.

“Hey,” Rainbow whispered. “It’s going to be okay.” She was pretty sure of that, for Twilight at least.

The office into which they followed the general was smaller than his actual office back at Atlas Academy, and every bit as bare and austere. Of course, this space had more excuse for that, given that there was less room and probably not a lot of call to keep random stuff around on a warship that the General didn’t use that often. Nevertheless, the barren, grey space with a large window overlooking the city beyond reminded Rainbow of the office in which she, Ciel, and Twilight had stood when General Ironwood had first formed Team RSPT and assigned them to guard and guide Penny on her path to becoming the future of Atlas. Now, in a space that was identical in every way bar the size of it, they waited to hear what the future of that team might be.

They didn't sit down, and General Ironwood did not invite them to do so. He stood with his back to them, staring out of the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

The four of them stood to attention - or an approximation of it, in Twilight's case - before his desk and waited.

"At ease," he said, without turning around.

Rainbow and Ciel moved to the correct position, feet apart and hands behind their backs. Penny was sloppier in her movements, but managed to do the same. Twilight made no move at all. Rainbow felt her palms begin to sweat. Couldn't they just get this over with?

General Ironwood continued to stare out of the window. His office was facing away from Beacon, looking out over Vale and over the fleet that he had brought with him. Most of the airships which had escorted the cruisers in were starting to dock by this point, leaving only a few Skyhawks flying CAP. But you could still see the cruisers, hovering suspended in the sky above the city and the school.

Finally, after a wait that - whatever its actual length - felt agonising to Rainbow Dash, General Ironwood turned to face the four of them.

"Twilight," he began, "how is your examination into the possibility of wireless swords going?"

Twilight looked down. "I'm afraid I've made no progress worth reporting, sir."

"Never mind; I know you'll crack it eventually," General Ironwood said. He almost smiled. "I saw your parents before I left Atlas; they asked me to make sure that you were well and eating healthily."

Twilight cringed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Never be ashamed of your family, Twilight," General Ironwood admonished. "We fight for many reasons: for the glory of Atlas, for the honour of the army, for the preservation of mankind; but most of all, we fight to protect those who are dear to us. Don't forget that."

"No, sir. I won't."

“Councillor Cadenza and your brother also asked me to pass on their best regards,” General Ironwood added. “They hope to see you soon, at the Vytal Festival at the latest.”

Twilight licked her hips. “Permission… to speak, sir?”

General Ironwood’s expression did not alter. “Granted.”

“Will that be safe, sir?”

Rainbow found herself holding her breath.

“It will be,” General Ironwood replied after a moment, “now that our forces have arrived to make safe the city.”

Rainbow let out the breath she had been holding.

“I’m told that it was you, Twilight, who informed Professor Ozpin about the incident at the docks,” General Ironwood said, continuing to address Twilight.

“Yes, sir,” Twilight admitted. “I-”

“If you’re about to apologise, don’t,” General Ironwood said, cutting her off. “It’s something that your team leader should have done.”

Rainbow swallowed. Yeah, this is going to be… about what I thought it would be.

General Ironwood’s attention switched from Twilight to Penny. “So, Penny… how was your first taste of real combat?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know what to say, Mi- General.”

General Ironwood’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because… because I didn’t protect my friend, Mister General,” Penny declared. “Doesn’t that… make me a failure?”

General Ironwood stared at Penny, his small dark eyes staring into her much larger, greener orbs. “Penny,” he said, “you have been designed with extraordinary gifts. You will be a great huntress one day, perhaps the greatest. But ‘one day’ is not today. You’re still young and with so much to learn. That is why you are being entered into the Vytal Tournament, that is why you’ve been given teammates to learn from – although I’m not particularly happy with some of the lessons they’ve been teaching you – and that is why you are in school, with the other aspiring heroes of Atlas who, like you, have a lot to learn. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I… I’m not sure,” Penny admitted.

“It’s okay that you didn’t succeed completely in your first engagement,” General Ironwood said. “By all accounts, you conducted yourself well and bravely. That’s enough for now. There will be other times… Gods know there will be other times; and next time, you will do better than you did before, and the time after that, you will do better again until you have achieved all your potential. Twilight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take Penny back to her dorm room,” General Ironwood said quietly. “You’re both dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight repeated. “Come along, Penny.”

“What about Rainbow Dash and-?”

“They will be along later,” General Ironwood informed her.

“Oh. See you later, then!”

“Come on, Penny,” Twilight insisted.

Rainbow kept her face to the front. She heard, but did not see, the door sliding open to let Twilight and Penny leave the room, and she heard it hiss again as it shut behind them.

All traces of the avuncular fondness that General Ironwood had been displaying towards Twilight or the paternal concern that he had demonstrated towards Penny vanished as soon as he swept his gaze over Rainbow and Ciel. "Dash, Soleil, give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you both in the brig."

Rainbow came to attention. “Sir, Ciel only followed my orders as Team Leader, the responsibility for my mistakes is all mine.”

“You bet your ass the responsibility is yours!” General Ironwood snapped. “You tried to kill a Beacon student! The daughter of the Chieftain of Menagerie! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that she was a member of the White Fang, sir, and posed a continuing threat,” Rainbow replied. “In my defence, she was a former member of the White Fang.”

“A former member of the White Fang who fled rather than engage you,” General Ironwood reminded her. “A former member of the White Fang who posed no immediate threat to you or your teammates. Once Ozpin informed you that he was aware of the situation, if you weren’t satisfied, then you should have contacted me, and I would have talked to Ozpin myself. Or you could have contacted Vale PD and passed on your suspicions to them. What you should not have done was take your team on an unsanctioned kill op in the middle of Vale! So I’m going to ask you again: Dash, what in the gods’ names were you thinking?”

“I…” Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “I was scared, sir.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment, and expressionless. “'Scared'? Of Miss Belladonna?”

“Of the White Fang, sir.”

General Ironwood’s face was impassive, expressionless, completely inscrutable. “I understand your feelings towards that organisation,” he said, “but I can’t have a team leader who flies off the handle every time the White Fang comes up, especially not in the present circumstances. Are you going to be okay, Dash, or do I need to ship you back to Atlas and find somebody else to chaperone Penny?”

“No, sir, that won’t be necessary,” Rainbow declared loudly.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, sir, it won’t happen again,” Rainbow insisted. “I give you my word, sir.”

General Ironwood looked into Rainbow’s eyes, weighing her, judging her. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said softly. He leaned down and pushed a button on his desk to activate the intercom. “This is General Ironwood; send her in.”

The door opened, and Blake Belladonna walked in slowly, diffidently, with clear reluctance into the office.

“You wanted to see me, General?”

General Ironwood straightened up. “Thank you for coming, Miss Belladonna. I asked you here so that, on behalf of my student and the Atlesian military, I could apologise for the way that you’ve been treated by some of my students.”

“That’s not necessary, General, uh, sir,” Blake said quietly. “I… there were a lot of misunderstandings all around.”

“Nevertheless, Atlas students should aspire to a higher standard of behaviour than was demonstrated in your case,” General Ironwood declared. “The threats of violent assault made against you were unforgivable. And yet, I hope that you can find it in you to forgive regardless.”

Blake looked at Rainbow Dash. “That’s… this is very kind of you, General Ironwood, but Rainbow Dash and I have already made our peace. Unless you’d like us to shake hands to prove it.”

General Ironwood smiled, if but thinly. “That would give me some piece of mind, yes.”

Rainbow didn’t hesitate. She thrust out her hand. “I’m sorry, Miss Belladonna. Please accept my apologies for my… rash and… thoughtless… conduct.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Accepted, provided you accept mine for my own assumptions, about you and Atlas.” She took Rainbow’s hand and clasped it, firmly but warmly.

“Thank you, Miss Belladonna,” General Ironwood said.

“Although, to be frank, General Ironwood, I would prefer it if you extended this degree of courtesy to all faunus living under Atlesian rule, not just the one whose father happens to be the High Chieftain of Menagerie,” Blake said.

Seriously? Now, of all times? Can you not let it go ever?

General Ironwood didn’t seem offended. “Progress is slow, sometimes, I admit,” he said, “but we are making progress. Your actions at the docks were very brave, Miss Belladonna, although some might question the wisdom of your actions.”

Blake let her hand fall from Rainbow’s grip. “I’ve never been the kind of person to see something that needs to be done and wait for someone else to take care of it. If I see a situation, then I jump in. I’ve never seen any reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Is that what happened to you, too, Dash?” General Ironwood asked. “Did you see a situation and decide to jump in?”

“Pretty… yes, sir,” Rainbow replied. “Although, with Penny, our training, and the fire support from Gallant, I thought we were better equipped to handle the situation than most.”

“I see,” General Ironwood said. “Miss Belladonna, may I ask you how you knew that the White Fang were going to be hitting the docks that night?”

Blake hesitated. “I… would rather not say, General.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. Blake, what are you doing?

“Miss Belladonna,” General Ironwood said, “I am here, my forces are here, to defend this kingdom against its enemies, the White Fang prominent amongst them. Now, I believe that the White Fang are preparing to strike a great blow against Vale, and I fear that if they are allowed to continue their preparations unchecked, then my own students, and all the children present or soon to arrive at Beacon, will be placed in grave danger. So I ask you again: is there anything that you can tell me to help me stop this?”

Blake inhaled deeply. “I appreciate your willingness to help, General,” she said, “but I don’t believe your forces are the best equipped to handle this situation. And so… my answer remains the same.”

“I see,” General Ironwood murmured. “Thank you, Miss Belladonna; that will be all.”

“General,” Blake said softly, before she turned and walked out of the office.

“Thoughts?” General Ironwood asked once the door closed behind her.

“She knows more than she is letting on, sir,” Ciel declared.

“I thought as much,” General Ironwood replied. “Will she talk to either of you?”

“She might speak to Dash, sir,” Ciel said.

“I… I’m not so sure, sir,” Rainbow admitted. “She doesn’t hate me anymore, and I’ve tried to get her to see what we’re about, but… it seems she still doesn’t trust Atlas.”

“She’s not the only one, unfortunately,” General Ironwood muttered. He turned his back on Rainbow and Ciel and once more stood before the window looking out over the Atlesian fleet. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Tell me, both of you, what do you see?"

"The strength of Atlas incarnate, sir," said Ciel, a note of pride entering her voice.

"'The strength of Atlas incarnate,'" General Ironwood repeated, musing over every word. "That's almost poetic, Soleil."

"Thank you, sir."

General Ironwood was silent for a moment or two, gazing out of the window at the array of force at his immediate disposal. "The four kingdoms are in a time of peace. To what can that peace be attributed?"

"To the might of Atlas, sir!" Ciel declared, the pride in her tone growing fiercer still.

"Indeed?"

"Indeed, sir; Atlas possesses the strongest military on the planet; every other kingdom is well aware that they could not hope to stand against us in war and that we would side against any nation that went rogue and attempted to disrupt the state of peace for its own selfish ends. We guarantee the security of all other nations against their neighbours and the grimm, and thus, we preserve peace between them."

"Even so," General Ironwood said softly, "there are those who regard this peace we are enjoying as a natural state of affairs, a status quo that will sustain itself, but I see a fragile thing that must be protected from all those who would disturb it." He turned around, seeming sterner now, and older than before. "Those like the White Fang. Last month, a train carrying weapons, munitions, and a large number of prototype models of our new heavy support mech, the Paladin, were stolen travelling south from Cold Harbour to Vale. It was far from the first military or Schnee Dust Company train to be hit on that line. I hope I don't have to tell you how dangerous advanced weaponry could be in the hands of terrorists, and when combined with the quantities of stolen dust… the possibilities verge upon horrific.”

“Is that why you brought the fleet, sir?” Rainbow asked.

"I brought the fleet because I'm not about to leave you hanging, Dash," General Ironwood replied. "Nor any other of my students."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"Not everyone does," General Ironwood muttered.

"Sir, are you referring to Atlas students or to elements of the Valish authorities?" Ciel asked.

"There are some," General Ironwood said, "who feel that my coming here was a mistake. That the presence of our forces will only endanger fear and panic."

"They'll panic more if the shooting starts with no one to help them, sir," Rainbow declared. "Sir, you asked what we see when we look out the window. I… well, Ciel already stole all of my best lines, but I see… well, to be honest, General, I see you’re ready for a fight, but apart from that… I see protection. I see a… I don't know exactly what it is, sir, but it's saying 'nothing's going to hurt you tonight.'"

"You make it sound almost like a mother," General Ironwood observed.

"Isn't Atlas mother to us all, sir?" Rainbow asked.

"A good point," General Ironwood conceded, "and I hope that others come to see our presence in the way you do, at least a little."

"They will, sir," Rainbow said loyally, "and in the meantime…"

General Ironwood looked at her. "Go on, Dash."

"Sir, I know I screwed up with this Blake Belladonna stuff," Rainbow said. She bowed her head. "I know that… that I let you down, even though I said I'd never do that. But if there's anything I can do then you can consider me volunteered for it."

"You haven't let me down, Dash," General Ironwood said. "You made a mistake; there's a difference. I never expected you to make the right call every time; granted, the call you made was a pretty damn bad one." Rainbow winced as General Ironwood continued, "But as far as I'm concerned, everything I saw in you when I got you that place at Canterlot is still there."

Rainbow swallowed. "Thank you, sir."

“That said,” Ironwood continued, “there is still the question of your punishment.”

Rainbow swallowed. “Of course, sir.”

“Professor Goodwitch tells me that you're doing well here, excelling in leadership and combat,” General Ironwood said. “Miss Belladonna just forgave you. But you still screwed up, and while that in itself is forgivable - there hasn’t been a student in the academies who hasn’t messed up at some point - our mistakes are meaningless if we don’t learn from them. Which is why, for starting an unsanctioned fight with a fellow student, you’re going to be cleaning out the mess hall and the kitchen here on the Valiant this weekend. And I expect them to be spotless.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

"In addition to Rainbow Dash’s offer, you may consider my services at your disposal also," Ciel declared. "I believe that if Penny and Twilight were still here, they would say the same."

General Ironwood did not reply, not at once. "There are some," he said, "who think that you're too young to get involved in this business, being mere children as you are. They say that you deserve to remain children."

"Would these be the same individuals who think that people should be more afraid of us than of the White Fang?" Ciel asked in an arch tone.

"Their opinions are not ours, but that doesn't mean that they should be dismissed out of hand," General Ironwood informed them.

"If you say so, sir," Rainbow replied. "May I show you something, sir?"

General Ironwood raised one eyebrow curiously. "Go ahead."

Rainbow got out her scroll and shuffled through her photos until she found one of Scootaloo, taken on their first camping trip with Apple Bloom, Applejack, Sweetie Belle, and Rarity. Scootaloo beamed up out of the scroll as she sat in front of the campfire. Rainbow put the scroll down on General Ironwood's desk.

General Ironwood glanced down at it briefly. "Adorable," he remarked dryly. He looked again. "This is the girl you mentor, isn’t it?"

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “She’s twelve years old, and she's the one who deserves a childhood. She's the one who deserves to be sheltered from all this. Like Ciel's little brothers. They're the kids here. We chose this, sir, and we're ready."

"I agree, sir."

General Ironwood straightened up and handed Rainbow her scroll back. "I admit that part of me is a little worried to hear you say that. A part of me would like to keep you out of harm's way as much as possible. But another part of me is very proud of both of you."

Rainbow puffed out her chest a little; she hoped it wasn't too noticeable, but at the same time, she just couldn't help herself. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly.

"If you want to help, then start by working on Miss Belladonna," General Ironwood ordered. "As you noted, she knows more than she's letting on, information that could help us get a handle on this thing. You're probably the best placed to find out what she knows."

"Understood, sir," Ciel said.

General Ironwood nodded. "That's all. Dismissed."

"Yes sir!"

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: While some of what was previously in this chapter, notably the scene where Sunset confesses about magic to her teammates, was moved into earlier chapters, this chapter has mostly gotten larger with the addition of a lot more Atlas stuff. This has caused the chapter to be split in two, with the second part going up on Wednesday covering Cinder's arrival with the Haven students.

Welcome to Beacon, Part Two (New)

Welcome to Beacon, Part Two

Pyrrha was always – that was probably too strong a word, implying that this was more than her second visit – surprised by how small Professor Goodwitch's office was. It was made to seem even smaller by the bookshelf dominating the left-hand side of the room, groaning with so many tomes on history, legend, and the nature of the grimm that Pyrrha wouldn't have been surprised if Professor Goodwitch could have taken over from either Professor Port or Doctor Oobleck in an emergency. On the other side of the wall was a map of Vale, with red pins stuck into various locations. Pyrrha wasn't sure what the pins meant, but there seemed to be more of them than there had been when she had been here last.

But that had been quite some time ago, when she had asked if there was any way in which she could switch teams, before she and Sunset had come to a mutual understanding.

Professor Goodwitch sat behind a handsome mahogany desk, piled up high with papers and documents. She scribbled something briefly on one of her pieces of paper before looking up at Pyrrha. She smiled, and when she spoke, her tone was a little warmer than usual. "Please, sit down, Miss Nikos."

"Thank you, Professor," Pyrrha murmured. She sat in a revolving chair placed in front of the desk, and her gloved hands fiddled idly with her red sash as she waited for Professor Goodwitch to explain what she was doing here.

"How are you feeling about the start of the new semester, Miss Nikos?" Professor Goodwitch asked politely.

"I'm quietly confident, Professor," Pyrrha replied. "I'm looking forward to some more field missions, and all of our vacation homework is complete." That was not quite true. Jaune still had to do his history essay for Professor Oobleck, as she had only recently discovered, but they were going to have a study session in the library this afternoon to get it out of the way before classes resumed.

"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Goodwitch said. "As you may be aware, the students from Atlas Academy arrived this morning."

"Yes, Professor, I saw them fly in," Pyrrha said. "I wasn't expecting them to be so… well-armed."

Professor Goodwitch snorted. "I think some people enjoy flaunting their power," she said derisively. "In any case, the Haven students will be arriving this afternoon. When classes resume, I think there may be a number of people eager to challenge you in sparring class."

"I imagine you're right, Professor," Pyrrha replied, "but I'm prepared for that."

"I'm sure you are," Professor Goodwitch said sincerely. She paused for a moment. "How are you feeling, Miss Nikos?"

"To be honest, I'm a little confused as to what I'm doing here, Professor."

Professor Goodwitch frowned, pinching her face. "Have you spoken to your mother lately, Miss Nikos?"

Ah. I should have known. "May I ask… who told you about that, Professor? Was it Jaune or Ruby?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Miss Shimmer who came to see me," Professor Goodwitch said.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked in surprise.

"She didn't tell me what had passed between you," Professor Goodwitch went on, "only that you had had a falling out prior to your return to Beacon."

"I see," Pyrrha murmured. "No, Professor, I'm afraid my mother and I haven't spoken since I left Mistral. Nor…" She gripped the fabric of her scarlet sash tightly. "Nor do I wish to change that."

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment, watching Pyrrha carefully through her half-moon spectacles. "You don't have to tell me what happened," she said gently, "but let me ask you again, Miss Nikos: how are you feeling?"

Pyrrha closed her eyes. "I don't think it was asking too much," she said, "to be allowed to make a few of my own decisions. To be allowed to give my heart to whom I choose."

"You're referring to Mister Arc?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

Pyrrha nodded. "I love him," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Professor Goodwitch's frown was one of concern. "You're still a young girl, Miss Nikos, and Mister Arc is still a young man. If you knew how many students I have seen come through these halls and 'fall in love' for a week, a month, a season, maybe even a year. Be careful, Miss Nikos; these things can leave scars when they end."

"Are you saying that you think it will end, Professor?"

"I'm advising you to be careful," Professor Goodwitch repeated. "In fairy tales, the Prince and the Princess fall in love at first sight and then live happily ever after. Real life is not always as straightforward."

"I see," Pyrrha murmured, by which she meant that she understood Professor Goodwitch was trying to help, even if she didn't agree with her about this. She and Jaune… there was something real between them, and had been ever since she had unlocked his aura, mingling their two souls together. "My mother lied," she said, "to keep us apart. I could not forgive that. I cannot."

"I see," Professor Goodwitch said. "You carry a heavy burden, Miss Nikos. I sometimes think that the expectations placed upon you are too great." She paused. "It is not my place to advise you what to do in this, but if you ever feel the need to unburden yourself or feel as though the weight on your shoulders is growing too heavy, my door is open to you."

"Thank you for the offer, Professor," Pyrrha replied. "But I'm fine, now."

Professor Goodwitch did not reply immediately. "If you're certain, Miss Nikos, then I won't keep you any further."

Pyrrha got to her feet. "Goodbye, Professor." She turned away and left the office, gently closing the door behind her.

“You should talk to your mother,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha let out a little gasp. “Sunset,” she said. “You…” she paused. “How is it that you always seem to be here when I come out of Professor Goodwitch’s office?”

Sunset grinned. “I have a magical map that lets me keep tabs on everyone.” She glanced away. “Actually, that might not be such a bad idea, hmm. Anyway,” she added, “you should talk to your mother.”

Pyrrha sighed. “Are you saying that because-”

“Don’t,” Sunset snapped, and there was nothing playful about her tone now or the hard-eyed expression on her face. “Don’t you dare.”

Pyrrha took a step back. “Sunset?”

“Your mother has been generous enough to grant me a stipend, it’s true,” Sunset admitted, “but it does not make me her hireling nor bind me to obey her will in everything or lobby on her behalf against my will. And you should know me better than that.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Pyrrha murmured. Sunset was right, she should have known better than to suggest such a thing. The truth was… the truth was that it irked her a little, that Sunset had chosen to avail herself of Lady Nikos’ patronage even after Pyrrha had attempted to break with her own mother, even after what her mother had done; it irked her as well – and this, Pyrrha was even more ashamed of – that her mother had chosen to favour Sunset with her patronage at all. It wasn’t Sunset’s fault that she was, in many respects, more fitting in character for the heiress to the House of Nikos than Pyrrha was: ambitious, confident, proud. It wasn’t Sunset’s fault that she would have made an excellent match with Turnus Rutulus.

None of it was Sunset’s fault, but that didn’t mean that Pyrrha had to like it.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha repeated. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I forgot… I forgot how important your pride is to you.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset said, her expression softening. “I may have overreacted just a little bit. Anyway, the point is that I really do think that you should call your mother.”

“I disagree,” Pyrrha said mildly. “Would you forgive your mother if she behaved like that?”

“I’ve forgiven worse,” Sunset replied.

“Really?” Pyrrha murmured. “How long did it take you?”

Sunset hesitated. “Years,” she admitted. “Years in which I regretted that… that I didn’t have her to turn to. That’s why I spoke to Professor Goodwitch; if you won’t see sense, will you at least go and talk to her if you need to?”

“I don’t want to bother Professor Goodwitch,” Pyrrha said. “I’m sure she’s very busy.”

Sunset shook her head. “Anyway, shall we go to lunch?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea,” Pyrrha said.

“I’ll text Jaune and Ruby to meet us at the dining hall,” Sunset said, pulling her scroll out of her jacket pocket. As her fingers tapped the letters, she said, “But seriously, you should call your mother.”

“Please, Sunset, let it lie,” Pyrrha pleaded.

“She loves you,” Sunset insisted. “It was love that made her lie to Jaune about your… status.”

“I’m not sure that an action like that could ever be motivated by love,” Pyrrha replied.

Sunset looked at her. “You don’t think love can ever drive us to do bad things, even terrible ones?”

“I think that negative emotions are more likely a cause of negative actions,” Pyrrha said. “Fear, anger… it was not love that made my mother deceive Jaune; it was fear that I might love someone not of her choosing. Fear of losing control over me.”

Sunset folded up her scroll. “'Love'?”

“Hmm?”

“You said ‘love,’” Sunset repeated.

Pyrrha blinked. A smile crossed her lips. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose I did.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

“Do you find it so hard to believe?” Pyrrha asked. “Do you find it impossible to imagine that our lives might change in the blink of an eye?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know,” she said, “but it hasn’t happened to me, nor anyone else I know… except you, apparently.”

Pyrrha looked away for a moment. “I… I won’t apologise for how I feel about Jaune,” she said, “any more than for how I feel about my mother.”

“I’m not asking you to apologise.”

“But you do think I’m being ridiculous,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I… I worry about you.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly, “but I’ll be fine.”

They left the school building and began to cross the courtyard towards the cafeteria. They could see a great many other students from all over the spacious campus converging there, and many were wearing the grey and white of Atlas that had become familiar to Pyrrha and Sunset through their friendship with RSPT.

Pyrrha’s eyes flickered across the crowds for a moment, before she said, “Sunset… may I ask something of you… which you are as likely to refuse as I’ve refused all of your requests, I must admit.”

“Go on,” Sunset said warily.

“I do wish that you wouldn’t take my mother’s money,” Pyrrha declared. “It… it doesn’t sit right with me. Not because I think you’re taking it to be her employee, but… surely you can understand.”

“I can,” Sunset admitted. “But, since I disagree with you about this… and besides, I need the money.”

Pyrrha winced. Now that Sunset had moved the argument in that direction, it was going to be hard to discuss it. She didn’t want to suggest that Sunset should voluntarily impoverish herself, and yet, that was what she would have to do if she wished to continue this conversation.

Which was probably why Sunset had said it.

Or perhaps not, because Sunset didn’t even give her the chance to respond, continuing on to add, “And so do you.”

“I’ll manage,” Pyrrha murmured.

“How?” Sunset demanded. “Your mother was quite explicit that the stipend she has granted me is for dust and ammunition and combat essentials. I’m not sure how she’d react if I started paying for our trips to the spa.”

“I can manage without such things,” Pyrrha replied.

“I could say something very unkind about how Jaune will feel once you start to get split ends and your hair dries up,” Sunset remarked. “But I won’t, because I am a classy lady.”

“I thank you for your restraint,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Seriously, what will it cost you to keep spending your mother’s money?”

“My self-respect?” Pyrrha suggested. “Surely, you can understand that?”

“I scavenged parts from a junkyard to build my motorcycle because of ‘self-respect,’ don’t be like me,” Sunset said. “Look, I’ll make a deal with you: I won’t nag you to talk to your mother, and you will keep spending her money, how about that?”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I will mention this at every conceivable opportunity,” Sunset said, “to the point that I will wake you up in the morning by yelling ‘TALK TO YOUR MOTHER’ in your ear while you lie sleeping.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then I don’t suppose you leave me much choice, do you?” Pyrrha said.

“I hope not,” Sunset said with a touch of laughter in her voice.

The two of them crossed the courtyard; Jaune and Ruby were already waiting for them outside the dining hall. Jaune… every time she looked at him, it was as if she were seeing him anew for the first time, and every time, it was wonderful.

He didn’t need his semblance to glow in her eyes; he was able to do that all by himself.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to take her hands as she approached. “How did it go with Goodwitch?”

“Oh, it was nothing to worry about,” Pyrrha murmured. “She just wanted to know how I was… apparently, she heard about what happened with my mother.”

“How did she find out about that?” Ruby asked.

“How do you think?” Sunset demanded.

“You told her?” Ruby gasped.

“Of course I told her; somebody had to,” Sunset replied.

“There are a lot of things that somebody should probably tell the teachers about, but we’re not going to,” Jaune pointed out.

“That is completely different,” Sunset declared.

“How is it any different at all?”

“It’s fine, Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “Professor Goodwitch was very kind. She wanted to let me know that I could talk to her, if I needed to.”

Jaune nodded. He squeezed her hands gently. “That might not be such a bad idea.”

“I’ll be alright,” Pyrrha assured him.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” Pyrrha said. “Did you two have a good time at the farm?”

Ruby nodded eagerly. “We-”

"Pyrrha! So good to see you again!" the voice that cut across Ruby's words was high pitched, the tone clipped and aristocratic. It was also a voice that Pyrrha would rather not have heard.

Pyrrha’s shoulders slumped a little as she said, with a tone of resigned neutrality, "Phoebe, it's been some time."

Phoebe Kommenos pushed her way through the crowd of students. She was tall, of a height with Pyrrha herself, and dressed in the uniform of an Atlas student. Her eyes were dark, and her hair was black as coal and bound up in a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Diamond clusters dangled from each ear, sparkling in the sunlight. Her arms were muscular, as much as Yang or Pyrrha. She was beautiful, with a dainty nose and high, sharp cheekbones contrasting with the softness of her chin… unfortunately, Pyrrha could not bring herself to think that there was so much beauty within Phoebe as there was without.

Three other students trailed in her wake, two strapping young men and a small, slight girl who walked with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed as though she were trying to hide.

Phoebe laughed, a kind of 'ohohohoho' sound that made Sunset's ears twitch. "Yes, it has, hasn't it? Not since you beat me in last year's tournament." She laughed again as she produced a fan from out of her sleeve and snapped it up in front of her face. "I hear you went home for the vacation? I would have seen you there, I'm sure, but I decided to stay in Atlas preparing for the Vytal Festival."

"I'm sure that you will do yourself honour there," Pyrrha replied. "Allow me to introduce-"

"You're sure that I will do myself honour?" Phoebe repeated sharply. "Oh, how very kind of you to stay so, Pyrrha Nikos."

"Phoebe," Pyrrha said, "that's not what I meant-"

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't," Phoebe said. "You never mean to, do you? You never mean to humiliate the rest of us, you never mean to cast a shadow across the world, you never mean to bestride the hearts of men like a colossus so we must crawl about around your pedestal and seek for crumbs of recognition!"

“That’s not fair,” Jaune protested. “You can’t demand that everyone strive to be the best but then complain when someone is actually better than you!”

“'Better than-'?!”

“Don’t waste your breath, Jaune,” Sunset said. She smirked. “Entitled mediocrity is blind to the merits of true talent. Anyway, we’re done,” she added, half-stepping between Pyrrha and Phoebe. "Now, I don't know who you are, but I can make a pretty good guess as to what you are: someone who sucks by comparison to Pyrrha, for which I have… not enough sympathy to make me want to listen to you go on about it, much less force Pyrrha to listen. So take your frustrations and stew in them. Somewhere else."

Phoebe glowered down at Sunset. One of her hands clenched into a fist.

Sunset’s hand glowed as she held her magic ready.

“Uh, Phoebe?” the girl behind her murmured tremulously. “Maybe… maybe we should… I mean-”

“Can we just get something to eat?” asked one of the two boys, a wolf faunus with a mane of silver hair and a tail emerging out of the back of his pants.

Phoebe’s chest rose and fell. “Fine,” she spat through gritted teeth. She turned away from Sunset and then stopped. “I aim to take your crown, Pyrrha,” she declared. “By the time the Vytal Festival is over, they won’t talk of the Invincible Girl, but only of the one who proved that she was only mortal after all.”

“Good luck with that,” Sunset muttered.

Phoebe didn’t hear her, or affected not to hear her, as she stalked into the dining hall.

Pyrrha sighed. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her, taking one hand in his and rubbing her shoulder with the other hand. Pyrrha smiled at him gratefully and felt him squeeze her hand for comfort and reassurance. She felt better already.

“Who was that?” Ruby asked.

“Phoebe Kommenos,” Pyrrha explained. “One of my… she and I have fought more than once during my time on the tournament circuit.”

“A sore loser, I presume,” Sunset muttered.

“You… could say that,” Pyrrha admitted. “The good news is that she’s a couple of years older than I am, so we shouldn’t see very much of her. Hopefully, she’ll keep whatever is between us… between us.” There were a great many rumours about Phoebe Kommenos, some of them rather unpleasant: a reclusive stepsister who had rarely ventured out of the house for reasons unknown; the fire that had killed her mother and sister; allegations of match-fixing against less wealthy opponents; sparring partners injured, some quite seriously. Some said that Phoebe had had to go to Atlas Academy because her reputation would have followed her to Haven. Pyrrha wasn’t quite sure that was true, and in any case, these were only rumours, but at the same time… she didn’t want someone like that turning her ire on Jaune or Ruby simply because of their association with her.

“Hopefully,” Sunset repeated. “If not, we’ll deal with it, but for now, why don’t we get inside before all the desert goes?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Pyrrha said softly.

They went inside to find that, on this occasion, Team RSPT had beaten them into the dining hall and were already sat down at the usual table that Team SAPR and their friends habitually chose. The queue was bigger than normal today, thanks to the presence of all the Atlas students, but nobody tried to grab their seats while they were queuing up; perhaps RSPT had made it clear that they were saving them for someone. Pyrrha selected her lunch – gammon, with pineapple, boiled potatoes, and a vegetable selection – and sat down opposite Penny.

“Good morning,” she said. “Or, I suppose it’s 'good afternoon' now, isn’t it?”

“It’s a good something,” Twilight said. “I suppose,” she added in a softer tone.

Pyrrha looked up from her meal. “Is everything alright?”

“We got called to the General’s office, that’s all,” Rainbow answered. “So that he could ream me out about what happened at the docks.”

“You saved us at the docks,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Rainbow nodded. “Okay, he wanted to ream me out about what happened before the docks.”

“That makes a little more sense,” Pyrrha conceded. She blinked. “General Ironwood? He’s here?”

“Indeed,” Ciel said. “General Ironwood is leading our forces personally.”

“You mean the unnecessarily large forces parked overhead?” Sunset said as she sat down on Pyrrha’s left.

“No, we’re talking about the forces here to defend Vale against the White Fang… and anything or anyone else,” Rainbow said.

Sunset snorted. “You Atlesians always have to be the hero, don’t you?”

“You’re an Atlesian yourself,” Twilight said.

“A little,” Sunset said with a shrug, “but you know what I mean.”

“If you are referring to the way in which our nation freely sacrifices of itself for the security of its fellow men, then yes, we know what you mean,” Ciel declared.

Sunset looked at her for a moment. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Hey, guys,” Jaune said as he sat down on Pyrrha’s right. “I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“Why?” Penny asked. “Where else would be at lunchtime?”

Jaune shrugged. “Nowhere in particular; it’s just that with the Atlas students arriving, aren’t there some of your old friends you haven’t seen for a while?”

“I don’t have any old friends at Atlas,” Penny said. “I only have you.” She paused, and her face became a little downcast. “Do you not want me to eat with you?”

“Nobody’s saying that, Penny,” Ruby assured her as she, at last, took her seat next to Sunset. “Jaune was just surprised that you didn’t know anyone from your own academy. Although I suppose you did arrive in Vale pretty fast.”

“We always enjoy your company, Penny,” Pyrrha said.

“Yeah, please don’t take what I said the wrong way,” Jaune added.

“Besides, just because we can sit with other Atlesians doesn’t mean we have to or that we should,” Twilight said. “Getting to know one another, forging friendships across schools or continents, isn’t that part of what the Vytal Festival is all about? Isn’t that why students arrive at their host schools so early?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sun said, appearing from out of nowhere as he sat himself down on the edge of the bench next to the Rosepetals. “’Sup guys, any of you seen Blake?”

“Where did you come from?” Sunset demanded.

“I was… around,” Sun replied. “I couldn’t help but overhear, seemed like a good moment to drop in.”

“Hey, Sun,” Ruby said with a smile. “Are you excited about all the Haven students arriving?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say 'excited,'” Sun acknowledged, scratching his cheek with one hand. “More… a little bit nervous.”

“But you’ll finally get your team back together,” Ruby pointed out. As far as Pyrrha was aware, Professor Ozpin had wanted the rest of Team SSSN - pronounced Sun, like their leader - to follow the example of Team RSPT and join Sun at Beacon early, but Professor Lionheart had put his foot down and refused to allow them to do so until the rest of the Haven students arrived.

“Yeah,” Sun conceded. “That’s why I’m a little bit nervous.”

“You’re afraid about what they’re going to say?” Rainbow asked in between a mouthful of pasta.

“I’m afraid of what some of them are going to say,” Sun admitted. “Actually… nah, make that all of them; even Neptune won’t be totally cool about this.”

“You should be worried,” Rainbow declared. “You’re a terrible leader.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Ruby cried reproachfully.

“What?” Rainbow demanded. “You ran off to another continent, ditched your team, and you’ve left them leaderless and with a man down for the last semester.”

“I ran off to another continent and ditched my team,” Penny pointed out.

“And that was very wrong of you, Penny,” Ciel said.

“Yeah, but not as bad as it would have been if you’d been team leader,” Rainbow explained. “If I’d pulled that kind of stunt, the General would have stuck me in the brig for the next four months.”

“Wouldn’t that just exacerbate the problem?” Penny asked innocently. “Then Team Rosepetal would still be a man down and without a leader.”

“It goes without saying that Rainbow Dash would not have retained her leadership – or indeed her membership of Team Rosepetal – under such circumstances,” Ciel declared.

Penny’s eyes widened. “Does that mean Sun is getting kicked out of his team?”

“Scarlet might try,” Sun confessed. He paused. “How would this General guy-?”

Rainbow, Ciel and Twilight all made noises as if they were about to start choking on their lunch.

“'This General guy'?” Rainbow repeated. “'This General guy'?”

“It’s not like you said his name,” Sun replied without much defensiveness.

“You’ve never heard of General Ironwood?” Twilight asked in astonishment.

“Only Atlesian arrogance would assume that everyone must necessarily have heard of one of your senior officers,” Sunset said. “Would you expect Atlesians to know who Professor Lionheart is?”

“Who?” asked Penny.

“Precisely,” Sunset said.

“You are an Atlesian,” Twilight reminded Sunset yet again.

“I like to think that I can take a step outside of your society and examine it critically.”

“You mean you weren’t happy there,” Twilight said.

“Not particularly,” Sunset admitted.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what his name is; he’s not here anyway,” Sun remarked.

“Uh, apparently he is,” Ruby said. “He came with his fleet.”

Sun looked at her. “What fleet?”

Everyone stared at him. Even Pyrrha found herself rather surprised to hear that.

“The, uh, the Atlesian fleet?” Jaune suggested. “You know, all those ships filling the skies over Beacon and Vale.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Sun said, prompting Sunset to groan in frustration. “Anyway, do any of you know where Blake is?”

“Your team is about to arrive filled with just recriminations, you may in fact be about to be voted out like the loser on some game show, and on top of that, you’re so spectacularly unobservant that it’s a wonder you haven’t walked into the mouth of an ursa major, but sure, the important thing is where you can find your girlfriend,” Sunset growled. She rolled her eyes. “Sweet Celestia.”

“We’re sorry,” Pyrrha murmured, “but we haven’t seen Blake all day.”

“Did you talk to her team?” Ruby asked.

“They hadn’t seen her either,” Sunset answered.

“She came aboard the Valiant for a little bit,” Rainbow said. “The General – General Ironwood – apologised to her for… the way I got a little carried away when I found out, you know. But she left before us, and I don’t know where she went after that.”

Sun sighed dispiritedly. “I can’t think where she’d be. I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found right now,” Jaune suggested. “She’ll show up eventually, but if she wants to be left alone… maybe just give her her space?”

Sun looked at him. “Would you give Pyrrha space?”

Jaune looked at her. “If Pyrrha wanted me to, then sure.” He hesitated. “Which, uh, kind of reminds me… we haven’t really been on a date yet… I mean I don’t know if you really want to go on a date because I probably should have asked first, but I didn’t because I’m such a moron, and I didn’t think this through, can we start over?”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. “There’s no need. I would love to go on a date with you, Jaune. What did you have in mind?”

“Ugh, how saccharine. Someone pass me a sick bag.”

Pyrrha might have almost expected that to come from Sunset, or possibly even Rainbow Dash, but instead, the voice was higher-pitched than either of them possessed and belonged to a cat faunus – her tail was visible, curling up behind her back, twitching gently back and forth – who had appeared at their table in a rainbow burst. Like the other Atlas students, she wore the grey and white uniform of the northern academy, but she seemed particularly ill at ease in it, as if she couldn’t wait to burst out of it and into something more casual. Her hair was a rich red, with neon blue streaks in the bangs that fell over her forehead, and worn in twin tails that jutted out from the sides of her head. She had a heart tattooed onto her left cheek which the blush she was wearing did not conceal. Her eyes were blue and seemed very sharp.

Currently, this newcomer had her arms around the shoulders of Rainbow and Twilight, practically draping her body over both of them.

“So, these are the people you’ve been hanging out with for the last few months, huh, Dashie?” she asked, her sharp blue eyes scanning the members of Team SAPR. “I’m so forlorn. You’ve thrown me away for a baby, a fried breakfast-”

“A what?” Sunset demanded.

“You know, the hair,” the cat faunus said. “It makes you looked like grilled – ooh, a barbecue! That’s what you are, that’s even better. A baby, a barbecue… something starts with B… bumpkin!” Her voice assumed an accent that sounded a little like Rainbow’s friend Applejack as she addressed Jaune. “Come on, now, boy, I bet you ain’t never been more than eight miles outside of home before you came to Beacon, ain’t that right?”

Pyrrha coughed. “Excuse me, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Hey, listen to that one, so refined.”

“Neon, stop,” Rainbow said in long-suffering resignation. “This is Neon Katt, the White Fang’s agent in Atlas Academy.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “The… White Fang.”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’m a harmless kitty cat, really,” Neon said, pinching Rainbow’s cheek and pulling on it. “It’s just that I accept what Dashie here and others like her run away from: that we faunus are just superior to all you puny humans.”

Jaune stared. “That… sounds kind of-”

“True,” Neon insisted. “We have a range of abilities that you lack, not to mention the advantages of our extra limbs. We’re just better than you, in every way.”

“Not in brains,” Rainbow said, extracting her face from Neon’s grip.

“Oh, intelligence is overrated!”

“Is that right?” drawled a tall, slender man with skin nearly as dark as Ciel as he strode over to join them. He had accessorised his uniform with the addition of a dark fedora atop his head and a single black glove covering one hand. “What up, Dash?”

Rainbow got to her feet. “Hey, Flynt. It’s good to see you again. How you doing?” She held out one hand, which the man – Flynt – clasped warmly.

“Oh, the beat goes on; you know how it is,” Flynt said. “Improvising from one note to the next, just like always.” He glanced at Neon. “Meanwhile, I bet you’re playing some of the old favourites, huh, Neon?”

Neon made a cat’s paw with one hand, waving it in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, relax, Flynt, you know I don’t mean you. You’re my favourite human.”

“Gee, thanks, now how about you stop bothering Dash and come get something to eat?”

Neon’s stomach rumbled loudly. “That… might not be such a bad idea,” she admitted. “See you around, Dashie!”

“You’ll make sure of it, won’t you?” Rainbow replied.

“You know it!” Neon cried cheerily as she skipped away, her tail shaking behind her.

Flynt touched the brim of his hat with his forefingers. “Ladies,” he said, before turning around and following Neon back towards the lunch queue.

Rainbow sat down again.

“She was…” Pyrrha began, and then trailed off because it was hard to properly describe exactly what Neon was.

“Yeah, she’s something alright,” Rainbow agreed. “But she’s good at what she does.”

“Annoying people?” Sunset suggested.

Rainbow grinned. “That too,” she admitted, “but I was actually thinking about killing grimm, but yeah, that works too.”

“I must say,” Pyrrha murmured, “I was expecting Atlas students to be more… regimented.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “How long have you known the four of us, and you still think the rest of Atlas is a bunch of robots?”

Penny hiccupped loudly.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha apologised. “It’s just that they say that Atlas emphasises discipline and conformity above individualism and free thought.”

“Atlas does emphasise discipline,” Ciel declared, “but that does not mean that, in more off-duty situations, certain students cannot show their… freer spirits.”

“People say a lot about Atlas,” Twilight murmured, “and most of it isn’t true. They say that Atlesians don’t have friends, only co-workers, but you guys know that that’s not true. I’m sure no other academy has to put up with the amount of malicious gossip that assails Atlas.”

“Greatness attracts envy,” Rainbow observed.

“True,” Sunset said, “but we all know which of the four academies warrants the description ‘great.’”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Atlas.”

“Oh, and how many Vytal Tournaments have been won by Atlesians?” Sunset asked.

“A few,” Rainbow replied. “More to the point, how many Atlesians keep the world safe?”

“Huntsmen from all four kingdoms and beyond keep the world safe,” Ruby insisted. “Not just Atlas.”

Rainbow glanced at her. “Yeah, you’re right, that was… I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just-”

“Proud of your academy,” Pyrrha said. “There’s no shame in that, so long as we all remember that-”

“That both Beacon and Atlas are head and shoulders above Haven,” Sunset declared.

“Hey!” Sun cried. “Come on, guys, that was uncalled for!”

“What would Cinder think to hear you say that?” Jaune asked, a slightly teasing tone in his voice.

Oh, that was right, Cinder Fall would be arriving with the Haven students. She was going to let Sunset know when they were making their approach so that Sunset could meet her at the docks.

Pyrrha… Pyrrha couldn’t exactly say why, but there was something about Cinder that she hadn’t liked when she had fought with them, and that feeling had not abated. But it was irrational – Cinder had been very decent to them all, even arranging somewhere for them to stay at Haven before they returned to Beacon at the end of the vacation – so there was no real cause for Pyrrha’s feelings towards her.

But that did not mean those feelings were not there.

Sunset smirked. “I might actually tell Cinder that, just for the pleasure of hearing her response.”

“What makes you think she’ll have a response?” Penny asked. “Won’t she just get upset?”

Sunset shook her head. “Cinder isn’t the kind of person to get upset; she’s the sort of person to have a cutting remark to use to get even with you.”

Before any of them could say anything more, the doors to the dining hall were flung open, only for the doorway to be immediately obscured by several smoke bombs, spewing out mingling blue and purple smoke in clouds which blended together to creep slowly into the cafeteria.

Pyrrha got to her feet. What was going on? Was this a practical joke or something more serious? Was this a test of some kind?

Rainbow and Twilight did not look in the least alarmed. Twilight laughed nervously. “It’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “It’s only-”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is here!” proclaimed, well, the Great and Powerful Trixie presumably, as she strode through the smoke and spread out her arms wide on either side of her, as though she were waiting for the applause of some great crowd in the arena or on the stage.

Trixie – presuming that it was she – was a young woman of average height, with purple eyes and long silver-white hair combed down one side of her face, even as the rest of it fell down her back below her waist. To her Atlas Academy uniform, she had added a purple cape, longer than Ruby’s, decorated with stars of gold and silver.

She stood like that, posed waiting for her acclaim, for a good few moments before she appeared to realise that all she was going to get were bemused and nonplussed stares from everyone in the cafeteria.

Another figure emerged from out of the smoke, another girl with aquamarine highlights streaked through her purple hair. Her blue eyes shone as she wrapped one arm around Trixie’s shoulder. “Come on, Trixie. Why don’t you save it for when there’s a spotlight, huh?” She steered the Great and Powerful Trixie towards the lunch queue, and as she did so, she held out her free hand for a young man with round spectacles and hints of a ginger goatee growing on his chin to take hold of.

A pony faunus girl, whom Pyrrha presumed to be the final member of their team, followed behind them. She was tall, as tall as Pyrrha herself and as broad in the shoulders as Yang, and the Mohawk into which she had styled her dark pink hair. She had a scowl set on her face as she followed her teammates. Her tail, the same dusky pink as her hair, hung flaccid and motionless behind her.

Pyrrha sat down again. “You’re right,” she murmured. “People who say that Atlesians have no individuality have no idea what they’re talking about.”

The rest of lunch passed more calmly, but Pyrrha found something itching in her mind: Penny’s words when asked why she was still sitting with Team SAPR after the arrival of the other Atlas students.

“I don’t have any old friends at Atlas, I only have you.”

Those words had been spoken in a tone that was so… so monstrously cheerful. Penny spoke so blithely – as she spoke blithely about a great many things – but in this case, it was particularly… wrong. There was no better word that Pyrrha could think of; it was wrong that it should be so.

It might seem strange for her to be thinking this way, considering that she had so very few friends of her own, and considering that she and Penny were alike in that they shared many of the small number of friends that they each had, but at the same time, it bothered her. It would have been unfortunate for anyone, but especially for someone as sweet-natured and cheerful as Penny.

Pyrrha just couldn’t understand why it should be so. And thus, as soon as lunch was finished and everyone started to get up, she said, “Penny, may I have a word with you, please… in private?”

Penny’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She glanced at Twilight; a movement of her eyes so slight that Pyrrha might not have caught it if she hadn’t been paying attention.

Pyrrha kept her own brow from furrowing as she wondered why Penny would need to look at Twilight for permission to speak alone with a friend.

She knew that Team RSPT meant no harm and intended much good, but all the same, there were times, when it came to Penny, when there was something ever so slightly off about the way they treated her. They watched her, they spoke for her, and at times, it seemed as though she needed their permission before she could do things. Or speak to people, as now. Pyrrha might have given some credence to Sunset’s belief that General Ironwood had set three trusted fellows to protect the daughter of some VIP while her dream of becoming a huntress was indulged, but moments like this made her doubtful of it. This was not the behaviour of bodyguards; it was more like… well, Pyrrha would have said "gaolers" if it were not for the fact that Rainbow, Twilight, and Ciel were all too decent – and seemed to care too much about Penny – for that to be the case.

But then, why did she look at Twilight?

Twilight, in turn, gave a barely perceptible nod of her head, at which point – these ruminations of Pyrrha’s had taken but an instant – Penny smiled at her. “Of course, Pyrrha! Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”

“Just outside should be fine,” Pyrrha said softly, and as the group began to leave the cafeteria, she hung back from the rest, walking more slowly. Penny did likewise, an earnest expression on her face.

Sunset’s scroll buzzed as they reached the doors. She pulled it out of her pocket and opened it up. A grin grew upon her features. Her tail twitched with eagerness. “Cinder’s here!” she proclaimed eagerly.

“I don’t suppose she flew in by herself?” Sun asked, sounding more hopeful than expectant.

Sunset gave him a look that verged upon withering. “She’s not you,” she declared tartly.

“Right,” Sun muttered. “So, the rest of the Haven students are here too,” he added. He looked more like a man facing a firing squad than reuniting with his friends after a long absence. “Wish me luck, guys.”

“Good luck,” Rainbow said. “You’ll need it,” she added sotto voce.

“I’ll catch up with all of you later,” Sunset said as she started to walk towards the docking pads. “You’re going to be in the library, right?”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Say 'hi' to Cinder for us.”

“Sure thing,” Sunset said, setting off with an eagerness in her step. Sun followed at a rather slower, more forlorn pace.

“Why does Sun look so upset?” Penny asked.

“Because he knows he has done something wrong,” Ciel declared, “and his own guilt manifests as fear of the judgement of others.”

“One need not necessarily feel guilt to feel shame,” Pyrrha suggested. “I think that Sun believes that what he did was, if not right, then at least not wrong; it is only the fact that he does not believe his teammates will see it in the same light that makes him fearful.”

“Perhaps,” Ciel conceded. “We have not a window into his soul to say for certain.”

Jaune looked back at Pyrrha, his brow furrowed slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, slightly anxiously.

I’m not the one who might not be alright, Pyrrha thought. “I’ll be fine,” Pyrrha assured him. “I won’t be long.”

Jaune still looked a little puzzled and a little concerned, but he nodded and walked away with Rainbow, Ciel, and Ruby, who waved to them.

“Catch up quick, you two,” she urged.

“I hope so,” Penny replied. She looked at Pyrrha. “Not that I don’t enjoy talking to you, Pyrrha; it’s just that-”

Pyrrha laughed gently. “I understand, Penny, don’t worry,” she said, as she reached out and took Penny gently by the arm, steering her away from the path that led from dining hall to library and leading her across the courtyard in the direction of the great statue that stood sentinel in the centre of the open space.

Twilight lurked a little way off; she did not follow the others but rather halted some distance away, standing awkwardly on the grass just off the path, watching them but too far away to hear any words that might pass between them. Pyrrha didn’t object; as long as she wasn’t actively seeking to eavesdrop, then she had no right to do so.

In any case, her attention was for the most part reserved for Penny as they wandered – the smaller girl guided by the taller – across the grass and under the shade of the trees until they were standing at the edge of the water that surrounded the dark statue.

“What do you think?” Pyrrha asked, as a way to break the ice. She had known Penny for quite some time now, but at the same time, she couldn’t really say that they had shared any time alone, without anyone else from Team RSPT present. It was part of the slightly concerning pattern; they didn’t seem to like leaving her alone. “I know that it’s supposed to be inspiring, and it is… but at the same time, I find it ever so slightly foreboding.”

Penny blinked. “Why?” she asked.

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. “It looks very grand,” she said, “until you think about it. The huntsman has his sword raised in triumph, while the huntress is resting her axe upon the ground. They act as though they’ve just won a victory, and maybe they have… but the beowolf is there, lurking underneath, waiting for its opportunity; it is as savage and as fierce as ever, and they are unaware of it. I think… I fear… that the statue is here to remind us that evil is always present in the dark places of the world and will never be wholly rooted out.”

Penny looked up at her, a frown creasing her youthful features; she really did look very young, Pyrrha thought. “But,” she protested, “you’re Pyrrha Nikos! You can’t be afraid!”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled softly. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Penny, but there are many different kinds of fear, just as there are many different kinds of courage. I fear no one when I step into the ring, if that doesn’t sound too obscenely arrogant; in battle against the grimm or even against the White Fang, I fear very little for myself, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid. I fear… I fear to lose Jaune, to lose any of my friends, to let down those who depend on and believe in me. Most of all I fear to fail.”

Penny stared up her. “May I tell you a secret, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha nodded solemnly. “You may tell me anything you wish, Penny, and none of it shall pass my lips without your leave.”

“I, too, fear to fail,” Penny confessed.

That was interesting, and unexpected too, another forceful reminder to Pyrrha that she didn’t know Penny nearly as well as she could. Why did Penny fear to fail? What expectations had been placed upon her? Who was she? “To fail as a huntress?”

“More than that,” Penny replied. She looked at the statue again. “If what you say is true, do you think that it’s impossible for us to save the world?”

“'Impossible'?” Pyrrha repeated. “I would hate to think so.” She hesitated. “May I make a confession of my own? In my most fanciful dreams, I should like to do exactly that: to drive back the grimm, to vanquish them even from the farthest shores, to wipe all trace of them from the world and give back to mankind dominion over all places. The height of egotism for a mere tournament champion like myself; I must be letting my reputation go to my head.” She smiled self-deprecatingly.

“I wish for that too,” Penny said. “I wish it so that no one would have to be huntsmen or huntresses anymore, and none of my friends would have to fight and risk their lives the way they do now.”

Pyrrha smiled. “That is a thought both kind and generous, Penny, besides being rather ambitious.”

“It’s what I was-” Penny halted, abruptly in the middle of her sentence.

“Penny?”

“I was given my team,” Penny confessed. “Mis- General Ironwood assigned them to me personally. He gave me Rainbow Dash to be my team leader, who’s his top student, and Twilight and Ciel are both so talented. I need to prove that I’m worthy of everything that’s been done to me and everything that I’ve been given.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured, although she didn’t really see as much as she would have liked to have seen. Why had Penny been given so much? Why had General Ironwood assigned his top student to be Penny’s leader?

They were questions that she was curious to know the answer to, but not so much so that it took precedence over her duty to the friend standing in front of her. She reached out and put one hand on Penny’s shoulder. She was surprisingly cold to the touch. She said, “I… I asked to speak with you because I didn’t understand how someone so sweet as you could be as friendless as you say, but… but now, forgive me my presumption, now I think I might. When people, however well-meaning they may be, place their expectations upon you… they also throw up walls around you at the same time, don’t they?”

Penny stared into Pyrrha's eyes. "My father is a very important man," she said. "Twilight says that he's the smartest man in Atlas. And General Ironwood… My father wants me to live up to my potential; he says that nothing is more important than that."

"I know how that feels," Pyrrha murmured.

"And General Ironwood wants me to protect Atlas, and the world, maybe even save it one day, if that's possible," Penny continued. "I… I want that too. I want to make sure that nobody has to die, none of my friends or anyone else. I'd love it if nobody had to fight. But what about what else I want? Doesn't that matter?"

"It matters to me," Pyrrha declared, "and to Ruby, and I'm sure that it matters to your teammates also."

"I… I don't know," Penny replied, her voice small and soft and a little fearful. "Rainbow let me stay here at Beacon when she ought to have taken me home to Atlas, but only after she'd talked to General Ironwood first. Because Rainbow, Ciel, Twilight, they're all General Ironwood's people, not my friends. If they had to choose… I'm afraid they'd choose him over me."

"But we would not," Pyrrha insisted, "Ruby and I." She paused. "I… I do not know what lies in store for us, Penny. I do not know if it is possible that we might do our work so well that there is no more work to be done for huntresses in the future. I do not know if our skills are equal enough to our ambitions that we may achieve the outsized destinies we yearn for. But I do know that we need not fight alone, either of us. Despite the walls around us, we have both been fortunate enough to find friends who will stand with us against all perils." She smiled. "You're not alone, Penny."

For a moment, Penny stared up at her, standing still with Pyrrha's hand upon her shoulder. Then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha's waist and hugging her tight, so tight that Pyrrha felt it even through her aura.

"Thank you, Pyrrha," she said. "You can count on me as well."

Pyrrha gently placed both hands on Penny's back. "I do not doubt it," she whispered. "Now, I think we should probably rejoin the others, don't you?"

Weiss was not having lunch in the cafeteria; rather, she and Winter were lunching upon an isolated veranda on the west side of the Beacon canvas; very few people knew about it, and even fewer frequented it, but Weiss found this place of ivy-coloured pillars and fountains decorated with statues of roaring lions to be peaceful, elegant, and tasteful. She wasn't sure exactly what it was for normally, but as she and Winter sat – alone, Flash having given them some privacy – nibbling on pastries and berries, with the fountains burbling away in the background, a sense of calm had descended over her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a trio of Atlesian dropships flying low on patrol; it was the one thing at present that was disturbing her calm.

"Winter," she began, "it's not that I'm not happy to see you, but-"

"But what am I doing here?" Winter asked.

Weiss smiled, if only with one corner of her mouth. "You must admit, your presence begs the question."

"How do you know that I didn't come to see you?" Winter suggested.

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "You didn't fly two thousand men over here to pay me a visit," she replied. "Atlas didn't fly two thousand men over here in order to wait for the Vytal Festival tournament."

"Atlas may not, but I did get myself assigned to the expeditionary force so that I could come and visit you," Winter insisted. She picked up her china teacup and sipped it. "As for what Atlas is doing here… isn't it obvious?"

Weiss sighed. "The White Fang," she whispered.

"They aren't gathering dust for a firework display," Winter muttered. "The General is concerned about the students coming to Beacon for the Vytal Festival; Atlas was concerned about the stability of its trading partner. I was concerned about you." Winter folded her hands together in her lap. "It seems that you've made a habit of brave but foolish decisions while you've been here at Beacon."

Weiss frowned. "You're not just talking about the locker, are you?"

"I'm also talking about the apex alpha in the forest."

"How do you know about that?"

"If Father knew about that, you'd be on a ship back to Atlas by now," Winter informed her.

"I'm training to be a huntress," Weiss insisted. "Does Father think that I won't be in danger?"

"You mistake the man if you think such concerns would influence his decisions," Winter reminded her. "Fortunately, Professor Ozpin has chosen to respect your privacy."

"Not completely," Weiss pointed out.

Winter chuckled. "As a courtesy to me, he filled me in on a few details on what you've gotten up to over the last semester." She sipped from her teacup again. It was nearly empty when she set it down. "I admire your courage, Weiss, but you take too many risks."

"It seems like you may also need reminding that I'm training to become a huntress," Weiss said.

"'Training,'" Winter emphasised. "You're not a huntress yet. There's no need for you to throw yourself into danger too soon. There's no need for you to involve yourself with the White Fang anymore."

"I wasn't planning to involve myself with the White Fang the first time," Weiss pointed out. "It just… happened."

"Hmm," Winter murmured. "Well, it need not happen again."

"Are you sure about that?" Weiss asked.

Winter cocked her head slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You said it yourself: they aren't stealing dust for the fun of it," Weiss said. "They're planning something, something that has even General Ironwood himself concerned. And with the behaviour of the grimm in Vale… the world is growing darker, isn't it?"

Winter rose from her seat and walked towards the archway with one hand upon the hilt of her sabre. "Beacon is the only world you need concern yourself with at present, Weiss," she declared.

"But-"

"Whatever the White Fang is planning, then Atlas will stop them," Winter declared. "We are an army possessed of all the accoutrements of modern warfare, skilled and resolute, mustered under one of the great captains." She looked at Weiss and smiled to show that she meant no insult when she said added, "We do not require the aid of children." Her boots tapped upon the floor as she approached Weiss and the table at which she sat. "Attend to your studies, master our inherited semblance, and leave the White Fang to us. There is nothing for you to be concerned with."

Sun fidgeted like a child, shifting and shuffling uncomfortably beside Sunset, who tried her best to ignore him as she watched the Haven students arrive.

Or rather, she watched the airship which could only be carrying the Haven students as it drew near to the skydock, passing through the ranks of the Atlesian cruisers as it made its approach. The civilian airship, a skyliner of the same sort that had carried them all to Beacon at the start of the last semester and which had born Team SAPR across the seas to Mistral and brought them back to Beacon once again, was larger than the Atlesian warships immediately surrounding it, and doubtless a good deal more comfortable to travel in, although, of course, any one of them could have ripped the skyliner apart in a matter of moments.

The airship's wings beat lazily up and down as it made its final approach, turning side on towards the cliffs that marked the boundary of the school grounds. These skyliners, unlike the Atlesian cruisers, were too large to actually set down upon the docking pads, and so – as they had done last semester – it would have to extend a plank for the passengers to disembark.

"So you said her name was Cinder Fall, right?" Sun asked, in the tone of a man trying to distract himself.

"That's right," Sunset replied, still looking at the approaching airship. "Do you know her?"

"I've heard the name," Sun answered, "but she wasn't much of a people person, kept to herself; her whole team did."

"Mind you, I don't suppose you got to spend much time with any of your fellow Haven students, did you?" Sunset mused.

Sun laughed nervously. "No, I guess not."

The tap tap of heels upon the stone path alerted Sunset to the presence of Professor Goodwitch, who approached the docking pad only to stop not far away from the two waiting students. She regarded them both over the top of her half-moon spectacles. "I can understand why you are here, Mister Wukong, but your presence is a little harder to explain, Miss Shimmer."

"I met a Haven student in Mistral, Professor," Sunset said. "I'm here to welcome them to Beacon."

"I see," Professor Goodwitch murmured as the skyliner docked, its ramp extending out to touch the edge of the docking pad. A door upon the side of the skyliner opened, and Haven students began to emerge.

Like the Atlesians who had preceded them by a matter of hours, the Haven students were all dressed in their school uniforms; Sunset had to admit, that amidst every accusation that was levelled – unfairly, according to those stalwart patriots of Team RSPT – against Atlas, it was Haven that possessed the sinister, ominous-looking uniform. All Haven students were dressed in black jackets, single-breasted, with silver piping and high collars that revealed only a touch of the – equally high-collared – white shirts they had on underneath. Each jacket had a white armband upon the right, reminding Sunset a little of the golden band that Pyrrha wore around her own right arm. She wondered idly if there was some Mistralian significance to it, except that Blake also wore a band of silver around her arm, and she was neither Mistralian nor pretending to be such. The Haven boys wore black trousers, while the Haven girls wore plaid skirts of grey and black, with white socks or stockings which, like their Beacon counterparts, they appeared to be allowed to tailor in length.

The Haven delegation was led out of the airship by a young woman about of a height with Yang, or perhaps just a little shorter, with a swarthy complexion and a bushy mane of pale blonde hair. She stretched out her arms and rolled her neck as though she had a crick in it as she walked briskly, with a certain leonine grace, across the docking pad, leaving two boys and a girl with black marks painted on her face – whom Sunset took to be her teammates – to rush to keep up with her.

More students spilled out of the airship, spreading out across the docking pad and moving in a loose cluster across the pad itself, before funnelling back together as they approached the path that led to the school.

"Not yet," Sun muttered. "Not yet."

"Dude!" the irate cry sprang from the lips of a tall, lean young man with blue hair as he emerged from the airship and caught sight of Sun. He put Sunset in mind of Flash Sentry, not just in the colour of his hair but the style of it too, the way it matched his eyes. It inclined her to dislike him from the first.

Not that he appeared to notice Sunset one way or the other as he moved swiftly across the docking pad, murmuring his apologies as he forced his way towards the waiting Sun Wukong.

"Neptune!" Sun cried, spreading his arms out wide as though he was expecting a hug. "Dude!"

"Dude?" Neptune repeated. "What the hell, man? Lionheart makes you team leader, and then a couple of weeks later, you've totally ditched us to come to Vale? If you wanted to attend Beacon, then why didn't you just apply for Beacon?"

"It wasn't something planned; it just… kinda happened," Sun explained – badly, in Sunset's opinion.

"You stowed away aboard a cargo ship, how does that 'just happen'?" Neptune demanded.

Sun shrugged. "It seemed-"

"Like a good idea at the time, sure it did," Neptune muttered. He sighed. "You are the worst team leader ever. And one of the worst friends too." He shook his head. "But I can't stay mad at you, dude; it's great to see you again, come here!"

He pulled Sun into an embrace, which was enthusiastically reciprocated. Sun said, "Oh, it's good to see you too, buddy. You're going to love it here, and I can't wait for you to meet Blake."

"'Blake'?" Neptune repeated, stepping back away from Sun. "Who's Blake?" He noticed Sunset. "Is this Blake?"

"No, dude, that's Sunset," Sun said, as though it explained everything. "Sunset, this is my buddy Neptune; Neptune, this is-"

"Sunset Shimmer," Sunset said. "Leader of Team Sapphire. Welcome to Beacon, I suppose."

Neptune beamed. His teeth gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine. "Well, with you as the reception committee, I am feeling very welcome, sunshine."

"Sunset," Sunset corrected him. "And is that supposed to be smooth? Because that was… that was, no. Listen, I have some experience with blue-haired guys, and I-"

"Sunset!" Cinder cried. "And here I thought you were here to see me." She pouted. "But it seems I can't compare with the charms of…" She waved one hand idly towards Neptune. "Nolan, is it?"

"Ignore him," Sunset said dismissively as she walked up to Cinder, subconsciously matching the swagger in the other girl's step. "That uniform suits you," she said. "Better than that… whatever it was you were wearing for the hunt."

Cinder smiled. "Yes, it turns out, black is one of my colours," she agreed. She looked down at herself. "I'm still not convinced by this skirt, though."

"Don't take it too hard; I'm not sure anyone can really pull off plaid," Sunset said. "Once you see the Beacon uniform, you'll agree there's a hint of 'unwearable by design' about the skirt choices. Although Atlas seems to have gotten away with it."

"Yes, well, Atlas gets away with a great many things, don't they?" Cinder asked, turning away to gesture to the fleet hovering overhead. "Like invading other kingdoms, for instance."

"I think invasions generally involve a lot more fire and slaughter," Sunset suggested.

Cinder chuckled. "Only if the occupied party is prepared to resist. But what sane politicians would stand against the might of Atlas?"

"I'm sure they had permission to come here, else it really would be an act of war," Sunset said. "I mean, they're a bit of an eyesore, but I don't think they're doing any harm."

"No?" Cinder asked, sounding surprised.

"You disagree?"

Cinder was silent for a moment. "I don't trust them," she admitted, "flaunting their power over the rest of us. This is but the most extreme example of typical Atlesian behaviour."

"Team Rosepetal is going to love you," Sunset muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Atlas students," Sunset explained. "Friends of ours. One of them in particular, Pyrrha and Ruby are very fond of."

Cinder grinned. "Don't worry; I'll be on my very best behaviour. But seriously, Sunset, doesn't it bother you the way that they hoard power? The fact that they could crush us all if they wanted to, and there's nothing we could do to stop them?"

"My tail, there isn't," Sunset growled. "There's plenty we could do to stop them." Her hands glowed green with magic.

Cinder smirked. "Semblances and huntsman training? Personal power and courage? Against the Atlesian ships and armies? Do you think that would be enough?"

"I didn't say it would be easy," Sunset said. "But… yes, I think so."

"It hasn't worked for the White Fang yet," Cinder pointed.

"Have you got an alternative, or are you just trying to attract grimm with all your despond?" Sunset asked.

"Oh, I don't believe they're invulnerable," Cinder declared. "It's just that, when opposing a great power, it's always best to have the assistance of an equivalent power of your own… if only such a thing or one could be found as powerful as Atlas."

"Not that one is needed," Sunset said. "Atlas is our friend, after all."

"Of course," Cinder agreed. "This is all simply… hypothetical."

"So," Sunset said, changing the subject as she looked around, "where's your team?"

"Oh, they're just getting my things," Cinder said idly. "Ah, here's Emerald now."

Emerald consisted of a brown legs partially obscured by knee-length socks; the rest of her was completely obscured by the large stack of suitcases under which she was labouring, a pile which swayed from side to side as she made her way awkwardly across the docking pad, panting a little as she went.

"I told you I didn't need any help, Cinder," she said, sounding more than a little out of breath. "I can take care of everything."

"Yes, and what a wonderful job you're doing," Cinder told her. "Now be a good girl and keep hold of everything until we reach our room."

"Of course, Cinder," Emerald replied.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Goodwitch declared, her voice rising across the crowd of Haven students. "My name is Professor Goodwitch, Combat Instructor at Beacon Academy. The headmaster will welcome you all later this evening, but for now, let me be the first to welcome all of you to Beacon Academy. Please follow me, and I will show all of you to your dorms."

The library was rather crowded and – it had to be said – rather loud at the moment as well. All the members of Team SAPR – minus Sunset – Team YRDN, and Team RSPT were all present, scattered around a cluster of tables underneath the large library windows. Some of the young students were working, and others were not. Pyrrha was attempting to help Jaune with the history homework which he had left too late; Dove and Ren were trading knowledge in plant science, where Dove was very familiar with the flora of western Sanus and Ren with that of Anima; Twilight and Rainbow were writing one another's essays for Grimm Studies, balancing Twilight's ability to quote large chunks of textbooks from memory with Rainbow's greater understanding of what actually worked in combat. On the other hand, Ciel was quietly reading King Zoroaster's account of the Great War which, while scintillating, was not relevant to the curriculum, while Yang, Nora, Ruby, and Penny were sat around a board laden with little plastic miniatures playing Remnant: The Game.

"Yang Xiao Long, prepare yourself!" Ruby demanded. "As I deploy the Atlesian Air Fleet!" Yang gasped as Ruby began to push the plastic Atlesian cruisers across the board.

"Which one?" Penny asked.

Ruby looked at her. "Huh?"

"You said you deployed 'the' Atlesian Air Fleet," Penny explained. "But there is more than one, isn't that right, Ciel?"

Ciel looked up from her book with an expression of mild irritation. "While it is true that from a strictly organisational point of view, the fleet might be considered a single entity under the command of General Ironwood, operationally, the entire force would never be committed to a single battle or campaign. At present, the fleet is deployed into several battlegroups at stations near and distant, including the Home Fleet defending Atlas itself, the Mantle Squadron, the-"

"Yeah, fascinating, I'm sure," Yang said hastily. "But it doesn't matter whether or not Atlas has one fleet or twenty, or whether they wouldn't really send them all into place or not. It's just a game, Penny; it's not real life."

"I see," Penny murmured. "Many games seem very unrealistic."

"That's because they're designed to be fun," Ruby said. "Like the fun I'm about to have flying straight over all the grimm to attack Mistral directly!"

"Or at least you would, if I didn't have this trap card," Yang proclaimed. "Giant Nevermores! If I roll seven or up, their feathers will slice into your fleet-"

"And bounce harmlessly off the armoured deck; that is, assuming the creatures themselves are not annihilated by our long range fire before they get anywhere near close enough to engage," Ciel said, turning a page of her book. "Did the makers of this game assume that our ships were armoured out of paper? Or that they are wholly without weapons?"

"It's a game!" Yang said, rolling her eyes. "You must be fun at parties." She leaned closer to Ruby. "Why are you friends with these people again?"

Ciel turned another page. "The parties I prefer are a little too adult for board games. As you may find out if you take the etiquette class this semester."

Yang looked up, while Nora and Ruby looked around.

"'Etiquette class'?" Nora repeated.

"Yeah, etiquette class," Rainbow groaned. "Because I really missed that being here."

"At Atlas Academy, all students are required to take an etiquette class," Twilight explained. "The aim, as stated by the first headmaster, was to produce students who are acceptable at a dance and invaluable in a shipwreck."

"In the absence of a professor, one of the upperclassmen will be taking the first year class," Ciel went on. Her voice became a little quieter. "And I shall be assisting."

Rainbow snorted. "You're going to be a TA?"

Ciel looked at her.

"I mean, that's great," Rainbow said. "Really happy for you."

"Thank you," Ciel replied courteously. "The class is compulsory for Atlas students but open to any other students who wish to attend."

“Yeah, that’ll be a hard pass from me,” Yang said. “I mean, what do you even learn in that class, how to arrange doilies?”

“That comes later, after you learn how to fold napkins into swans,” Ciel replied.

Yang stared at her. Ciel’s expression gave nothing whatsoever away.

“But seriously,” Jaune said, “what do you learn in those classes?”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “How to comport oneself with grace and dignity, how to address people of different social standings, how to dance, how to dine. In a few words, how to behave.”

“Jaune?” Pyrrha said. “Are you interested in this?”

“Sunset already started giving me lessons,” Jaune admitted. “There’s no harm in taking them as part of a class, right?”

Pyrrha frowned. “When did Sunset start giving you etiquette lessons?”

“In Mistral,” Jaune said, as though that ought to have been obvious. “I didn’t… want to embarrass you.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said softly, reaching out to take his hard, “you don’t need to worry about that.” She paused. “That said,” she added, “it might be interesting to see how Atlesians behave.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t sound like a lot of fun to me,” Ruby said. “Sorry.”

“I find it a tempting idea,” Dove said, “but right now, some of us are trying to study.”

“Thank you,” Ren said quietly.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. She raised her voice a little. “Ruby, have you done your essay for Doctor Oobleck?”

“Uh, yes,” Ruby said, her voice hesitant. “I have absolutely done that and will not be rushing to do it tonight.”

“You’re always welcome to join us and work on it now?” Pyrrha suggested.

“But I’m just about to win,” Ruby protested.

“Not if I roll seven or up you won’t,” Yang said. Pyrrha couldn’t see the roll; she only heard the dice hit the table before Yang cried out in triumph.

“All my soldiers!” Ruby wailed.

“They were probably robots,” Yang said dismissively.

“Hey,” Rainbow yelled. “We’re sitting right here!”

“Hey, guys,” Sunset said, emerging into view from behind one of the bookshelves. “What’s all the fuss about?”

“Ciel is teaching etiquette classes,” Penny declared.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“I am assisting,” Ciel corrected.

Cinder followed Sunset. “Of course, if there’s one thing everyone knows about the Atlesians, it’s that their behaviour is always scrupulously proper.” The smile that played upon her face was not quite sufficient to suggest that she was being facetious, but it came close. She inclined her head towards Pyrrha. “Pyrrha.”

At least she didn’t call me ‘Lady Pyrrha’. “Cinder,” Pyrrha replied, “how are you finding Beacon so far?”

“I’m liking it fine, although Sunset’s only just begun to show me around,” Cinder replied. “Good afternoon, Jaune, Ruby.”

“Hey, Cinder,” Ruby replied. “Looking forward to the semester?”

“Oh, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun here,” Cinder declared. “This is going to be a year to remember, I can feel it.”

“So, you’re Cinder Fall, huh?” Yang said, getting to her feet. “I’m Yang Xiao Long, Ruby’s sister. Thanks for having her back out in Mistral against that grimm.”

Cinder took Yang’s hand languidly. “Of course; as Ruby said, we’re all huntsmen, all kindred in a common purpose.”

Yang chuckled. “That’s my little sister. Always knows just the right way to put things. Anyway, this is my team, Team Iron,” she gestured to Ren, Nora, and Dove. “Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, and Dove Bronzewing.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Fall,” Dove said.

“Greetings,” Ren offered, with a bow of his head.

“Good to meet ya,” Nora cried.

“Charmed,” Cinder murmured. She glanced away. “Iron… spelled Y-R-D-N?”

“Yep,” Yang agreed. “It’s probably cheating to mispronounce two letters, but I guess there’s only so much you can do with a Y or an X to start things off.”

“Quite,” Cinder agreed. “And I would guess you four would be the Atlesians that Sunset mentioned.”

Now it was Rainbow’s turn to get to her feet. “Team Rosepetal. I’m Rainbow Dash; this is Ciel Soleil; that’s Twilight Sparkle and Penny Polendina over there.”

“Hello!”

“So,” Cinder asked. “How was it flying over on an Atlesian man-of-war?”

“Actually,” Penny said, “I-”

“It was tight quarters,” Rainbow said, cutting Penny off, “but we were fine. We Atlas students are used to a little discomfort.”

Cinder chuckled. “Of course. Atlesian soldiers are as hard as the northern lands they came from. I’m sure a lot of people are very glad that you’re all here. With your forces present in such numbers, what can threaten us?” She didn’t wait for a reply; rather, she looked down at the board game spread out on the table around which Ruby and the others sat. “Ah, you’re playing Remnant. Who’s winning?”

“I was about to,” Ruby muttered disconsolately, “before Yang pulled a trap card on me.”

Cinder laughed. “Yes. That’s why I like this game. So much more realistic than chess or draughts or such like.”

“Ciel doesn’t think it’s very realistic at all,” Penny said. “The Atlesians only have one air fleet, and it got destroyed by nevermores.”

“Perhaps not realistic in that sense, then,” Cinder conceded. “But… if you consider chess and such strategy games, as useful as they are, they are too… too pure. All the pieces move in set ways, they can be predicted, they can be controlled. Even the queen is a pawn of the player, and the other player is all you really have to worry about. But a game like this… reflects the randomness of real life. Consider what’s happening over Vale right now: Vale deploys its huntsmen away from the city, seeming to leave Vale vulnerable.” She bent down over the table and pushed away the plastic models around Vale, out into the surrounding countryside beyond. “But then, who should take their place but the gallant forces of Atlas?” She picked up the plastic Atlesian ships and set them down with a tap over Vale. “Now who could have predicted that? It would never have happened in a game of chess.” She straightened up. “Of course, the question now becomes 'what will happen next?' What will the next trap card be? What random act will throw all the plans of kings and generals into disarray?”

“Nothing throws Atlas into disarray,” Rainbow said. “We’re ready for anything. Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it.”

“Really?” Cinder asked, her smile wide and bright. Her voice, when it came next, was a delighted purr. “Hooah.”

Blake's Request (New)

Blake’s Request

The amphitheatre was crowded, a lot more crowded than it had been at the beginning of last semester when Professor Ozpin had given that rather uninspiring speech to the freshman class.

Now, it was not just the Beacon first years – or even the prospective first years – who were crowded into the hall, but the entire Beacon student body, all of them wearing either their field gear – like all four members of Team SAPR – or their school uniforms, all of them gathered in their teams and then forced by the press of circumstances to cluster even more tightly together, so that Sunset was rubbing shoulders with Yang, who was in turn being crushed by Ren who was pressed against Nora, who didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Just ask him out already.

The reason for the tight quarters was not just the fact that there were four years worth of Beacon students gathered here, but also all of the students who would be or had already begun to guest with them until the end of the Vytal Festival. The students from Shade, who wore no uniform but simply wore whatever they happened to have thrown on today, stood at the far left of the amphitheatre, while the students from Haven and Atlas in their uniforms of black and white respectively stood in between. They seemed to have more space than the Beacon students did, as if everyone was trying to divide the available space equally between schools in spite of Beacon’s preponderance in numbers. Not every student from the other three academies visited for the second semester; numbers were not wholly confined to those teams who had hopes of competing in the tournament, but not every student wanted to travel aboard for half a school year, and not every student was thought worthy to go by their headmaster. There seemed to be more Atlas students than there were Haven students, and more Haven students than huntsmen in training from Shade. Sunset supposed – or guessed, at least – that since he was coming himself, General Ironwood had thought it best to bring more of his students where he could keep an eye on them instead of leaving them at home.

Or perhaps he just wanted them to be safe in numbers.

Or maybe Atlas is just bigger than Haven or Shade, and I’m reading too much into things.

But it was a valuable distraction for Sunset to read a lot into things. It took her mind off the fact that Yang’s Ember Celica was digging into her side.

The reason why all of the students had gathered in the amphitheatre was to hear Professor Ozpin formally inaugurate the new semester and welcome the visiting students to Beacon.

Sunset hoped that he’d punched his speech up a bit more this time, instead of delivering a distinctly first draught effort like he had before Initiation.

A moment after she thought that, the man himself appeared on stage, preceded by Professor Goodwitch and followed after by – Sunset’s eyebrows rose in surprise – Skystar Aris, dressed in a cocktail dress of shimmering turquoise that matched her eyes. Sunset wondered if her appearance had anything to do with all of the stewards who had started crawling over the courtyard, setting up tables in the open air. Skystar was smiling brightly, and she waved into the crowd, presumably at Cardin; certainly, he thought so, judging by the way that he waved back.

Then she blew him a kiss, at which point, his face turned a little red.

Sunset snorted. How embarrassing.

He’s a lucky guy.

Professor Goodwitch had caught all of this before she whispered something to Skystar, who suddenly became very apologetic, cringing before Professor Goodwitch as Professor Ozpin, paying no attention to either of them, made his way to the microphone.

“Good afternoon,” he said, his voice carrying across the amphitheatre. “To our existing students: welcome to the beginning of a new semester here at Beacon Academy. To our guests from Atlas, Haven, and Shade: welcome to Beacon. I trust that you will find your stay here pleasant and profitable.

“I am sure that some of you must be wondering why you are here. Some of you, of course, wish to compete in the Vytal Tournament for the glory of your schools, but not all of you will receive that honour, even if you wish it, and in any case, the Vytal Tournament will not take place until some weeks after the end of this semester. Why, then, are you here? Why are you not completing your year’s studies at your own academy and then coming to Beacon for the tournament only?

“You are here because – and I beg you not to forget this fact – the Vytal Festival is so much more than a tournament, as important an aspect of it as that is. More than a chance for the pride of our academies to show their prowess before the world, the Vytal Festival is a celebration of peace, a celebration of the fact that students from Atlas and Mistral can attend the same school, can stand in the same hall, as students from Vale and Vacuo.”

Meanwhile, an Atlesian fleet can hover overhead and not be intent on bombing anybody, Sunset thought.

Professor Ozpin continued, “We are living in an era of peace, long may it continue, an era in which the kingdoms of Remnant have put aside their differences to work for the collective good of all mankind. The Vytal Festival, which, in all its glory, will begin soon and continue throughout the entire semester and beyond, with the tournament not as its focus but rather its crowning glory, is a celebration of that fact. Nowhere is the spirit of the peace better embodied than in all of you. Visitors from the other kingdoms will arrive in Vale throughout the year, but you are here now; some of you have been here since the start of the year. There are teams from Beacon led by Atlesians, teams from Haven led by Vacuans, teams from Atlas made up of Mistralians, and you have all come here to Beacon to celebrate peace and the benefits of diversity and opportunity without borders that that peace has ushered in. Although today, you stand grouped by your schools, I hope that over the course of this semester, you will forge bonds with your fellow students from every academy, bonds that will endure across kingdoms long after the Vytal Festival has ended.” He fell silent for a moment. “But for now, let me once more welcome all of you to Beacon Academy before it gives me pleasure to introduce this year’s Amity Princess, Miss Skystar Aris.”

Professor Ozpin stepped back from the microphone, gesturing courteously for Skystar to take his place. She did so, the smile returning to her face as she looked out across the assembled student body.

“Hello, everyone!” she cried enthusiastically. “I hope that none of you got lost when you arrived; this campus is really big.” She laughed nervously, and some of the students chuckled too. “Anyway,” she went on, “as Professor Ozpin so kindly introduced me, my name is Skystar Aris, and I have the honour to be the Amity Princess for this year’s Vytal Festival! I want everyone to have the most wonderful time; we’ve got some great stuff lined up for you this year, and to start things off, we'd like to celebrate the arrival of our good friends from Haven and Atlas with a welcome feast to be held outside, in the courtyard, starting at eight. I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you, and let’s make this Vytal Festival a huge success!”

“Thank you, Miss Aris, and I’m sure that I will see you all in the courtyard promptly,” Professor Ozpin added. “Until then-”

He was cut off by Professor Goodwitch frantically whispering something into his ear.

“Ahem,” Professor Ozpin coughed apologetically. “Professor Goodwitch has just reminded me of an administrative detail that I should make you aware of. Beacon students ought to be aware - certainly, I hope that all of you who have progressed beyond your first year have noticed - that at Beacon, we give our students far greater opportunity to venture into the field on training missions than any other academy. First-years will have already had a taste of training exercises against the grimm, but starting this semester, a wide variety of missions will be offered to you. These missions may come at any time, and while no team will be forced to accept any mission, refuse too many, and I may begin to wonder why you are here.” The statement was spoken in so mild a tone that you could almost be forgiven for failing to notice that it was a threat. “However, I am aware that for our visitors, this may not be what you signed up for; therefore, if you would like the same access to training missions as Beacon students for the duration of your stay, please see Professor Goodwitch at your earliest convenience.”

And if you don’t sign up, then, again, he’ll start to wonder what you’re doing here, Sunset thought. Professor Ozpin’s choices were heavily loaded in favour of the desired outcome.

“That is all,” Professor Ozpin continued. “I expect to see you tonight, but until then, you are all dismissed.”

Sunset let out the breath that she had been half holding in as the students started to file out of the amphitheatre, giving her a little more space even as she – and the rest of her team – joined the throng, making their way slowly towards the exit.

“Sunset!”

Sunset looked around. It was Blake who had hissed her name and who was struggling through the crowd of people to reach her side.

“Excuse me,” Blake murmured as she moved sideways through a crowd that was overwhelmingly moving forwards. “Sorry,” she apologised to someone for something before she reached Sunset’s side. “Sunset,” she repeated.

“Blake,” Sunset replied. “You know Sun’s looking for you?”

“Oh,” Blake murmured, not sounding particularly interested in that fact. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You may not have noticed, but this isn’t a particularly private space.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “I know,” she said impatiently. “But once we get outside?”

“Sure,” Sunset agreed, with a slight sigh in her voice. “If we get outside.”

They did, in fact, get outside, and while the rest of Team SAPR – and most of the other students – headed back to the dorm rooms while they waited for the feast to begin, Sunset and Blake wandered around the edge of the large, circular amphitheatre until they were at the back of it and alone and secluded from the other students.

Nevertheless, Blake glanced left and right and behind her to make sure that nobody was nearby and listening in.

“I wouldn’t put it past Sun to show up,” Sunset remarked glibly. “You know he was looking for you.”

“So you said,” Blake murmured.

“And you didn’t seem particularly interested in it at the time,” Sunset observed. “Trouble in paradise?”

Blake shook her head. “Everything is fine with Sun,” she averred. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I should hope not,” Sunset muttered, “but the fact remains that he is looking for you.”

“I don’t want to talk about Sun right now,” Blake said sharply, a mixture of anger and distress beginning to rise in her voice. “This doesn’t concern him!”

Sunset frowned. She folded her arms. “But it concerns me?”

“Yes,” Blake replied. “Or at least… I hope it does.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Okay… what’s this about?” She had a feeling that she knew the answer already.

Blake exhaled softly. She hesitated, glancing around once again as though she really did expect Sun – or someone else – to pop up behind her at a moment’s notice.

“The Atlesians – General Ironwood – wanted to see me today,” Blake informed her.

“To apologise for the fact that Rainbow tried to kill you, yes, Rainbow already confessed to that,” Sunset said. She grinned. “I hope you made her squirm a bit.”

Blake regarded Sunset evenly.

“What?” Sunset asked. “You could have had a little fun with it.”

Blake shook her head. “They also wanted to know about the docks, how I knew that the White Fang would be there that night.”

“I think everyone wants to know that,” Sunset replied. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing,” Blake said. “But General Ironwood is worried. This Atlesian fleet is here because he’s afraid the White Fang are planning something big and dangerous, just like I was afraid of.”

“Is this all so you can say you told me so?” Sunset asked.

“This is because I’m right,” Blake cried. “The White Fang is on the move, and if they’re not stopped-”

“If you want to stop the White Fang, then why in Celestia’s name didn’t you talk to the Atlesians?” Sunset snapped in a tone of strangled exasperation. “If you care so much then go back to General Ironwood and tell him that you’ve got a source with contacts in the White Fang and-”

“And then what?” Blake demanded. “What are the Atlesians going to do?”

“I don’t know, something professional?” Sunset suggested. She turned away. “I… sometimes… you are absolutely infuriating, sometimes, you do realise that? It’s a wonder Sun puts up with you. You wring your hands about how something is in the wind and someone has to do something-”

“Someone does!”

“At least have the honesty to say that you’re the only one who you’ll allow to do anything!” Sunset hissed. “As proven by the fact that you had the perfect opportunity to hand this off to someone who knows what they’re doing, and you wouldn’t take it!”

“I’m not going to leave this to Atlas,” Blake insisted.

“Why not?”

“Because…” Blake stumbled, falling silent.

Sunset raised one eyebrow, unable to resist the temptation to smirk just a little. “My, my, what an eloquent case you make.”

Blake snorted.

“You don’t have an answer, do you?”

“I don’t trust Atlas,” Blake said.

“Still? Even after everything you’ve seen?”

“Rainbow is a good person, and so are her teammates, but that doesn’t make Atlas just; one person – or even four – cannot stand for a whole kingdom. Atlas is still the home of the SDC; the Atlesian military is still their partner. Atlas is still the place in Remnant where faunus are the worst treated. That’s why I’m not going to hand Tukson over to them to be interrogated-”

“Like you have, you mean?” Sunset asked.

“Or faunus whose only fault is to desire justice so much that they have been misled into doing the wrong thing,” Blake continued. “I lived with these people for years; I fought with them; yes, I left because things were going too far, but I won’t condemn those who didn’t leave to die in the inferno of an Atlesian air strike!”

Sunset stared at her in silence for a moment. “Then how do you propose to stop them? Do you think it can be stopped without bloodshed?”

“I… I think… I hope… that if we can get Torchwick, then not only can we find out what the White Fang is planning – and why Adam was willing to work with a human to do it – but we can also stop the robberies, slow their progress until…” Blake bowed her head. “Maybe you’re right… but I’m not ready to take that step just yet.” She looked up, and into Sunset’s eyes. “I have to do this, Sunset; I… this is my past, coming back to haunt me. I have to do something; I can’t just sit back and leave it to other people with intentions I don’t know and can’t fully trust. I have to do this… but I can’t do it on my own. I need your help.”

“Why me?” Sunset asked. “You could ask Sun for help; he’d do anything for you. He would have stopped arguing long before now.”

“I know,” Blake said softly. “He would do anything that I asked him to, no matter how reckless. But if he were hurt because of me… if anything happened to him… I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“But you’re fine with me getting hurt or worse?” Sunset asked. “That wouldn’t touch your conscience at all?”

Blake shrugged apologetically. “Yes,” she admitted.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You’re filling me up with warm and fuzzy feelings here, Blake,” she growled.

“I know that Ruby was hurt the last time you involved yourself in my business,” Blake said. “That’s why I’m not asking for the help of your team. It’s best that they don’t know, the same way that Sun doesn’t know, because what they all don’t know won’t hurt them. But you… I’m asking for your help because I know you want to protect your team. And that means playing it safe with their lives, keeping them out of danger, but ask yourself this: do you really think that the best way to keep them safe is to do nothing while the plans of the White Fang come to fruition? How will you protect them when the fighting comes to the gates of Beacon?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Blake… Blake was infuriating, Blake was naïve, Blake was stupid, Blake made Sunset want to put her hands around her throat… but in this case, Blake made a pretty good point. Keeping her team out of danger would, well, it would keep them out of danger… right up to the moment at which the danger came to them. If the White Fang were allowed to proceed with their designs unmolested, then who knew where it would end up? Who knew who or what their ultimate target was?

And there was a part of Sunset that wanted nothing better than to tear the White Fang apart piece by piece. They had almost killed Ruby, who was Sunset's, and Sunset would neither forget that nor forgive it. She wanted to see Adam Taurus burn in fire, she wanted to see the strength of the White Fang broken and scattered like ashes in the wind, she wanted them to pay for the unforgivable crime of making her feel small and scared, if only for a moment.

But there was another part of her that remembered how terrified she had been in the moment when the world turned as red as blood and Adam came for her, his red sword shining. Nothing in her entire life had frightened her that way. That, although she would never admit it to any living soul, was the real reason she wanted his sword: because only once it was mounted on her wall could she be certain that it would never be used to scare her again.

And we were having a food fight earlier today. What Blake was proposing was nuts. It was absurd. They were kids; they ought to have been worried about school, not terrorism.

We're kids who signed up to fight monsters. We're kids who chose to walk the glory road, though it be paved with daggers.

I guess this is what I signed up for.

"If the black knight asks for her help, how can the white refuse?" Sunset mused. "But I do not want my team involved in this." I don't want their deaths in this nonsense on my conscience.

"That's fine," Blake said. "You and I will be enough."

"It'll have to be, won't it?" Sunset said. She held out one hand. "Sunset and Blake: Let's kick some ass."

Sunset and Blake (Rewritten)

Sunset and Blake

“Sunset?”

Sunset turned around as Pyrrha’s voice drew her attention. It was night, and despite the fact that it was summer, the sun had gone down by now, and the eerie broken moon was up in the sky. “Pyrrha,” Sunset murmured as she saw her teammate standing in the dorm room doorway. She smiled. “You know the party’s outside,” she said, referring to the welcome feast which was still in full swing.

Pyrrha chuckled softly as she closed the door behind her. “I could remind you of the same thing.”

“I don’t have a cute boy to keep me company,” Sunset replied. “You know, if you keep ignoring him like this, you’re going to lose him.”

Pyrrha chuckled once again.

“I’m not kidding,” Sunset told her, her tone suddenly earnest. “I’ve seen it too many times.”

“I’ve no intention of ignoring Jaune,” Pyrrha informed her. She paused, her expression suddenly becoming rather nervous. “I… oh my goodness, you don’t think I’ve been ignoring him, do you?”

It was all that Sunset could do not to roll her eyes. “No, Pyrrha, I do not think you’ve been ignoring your boyfriend. I was… a little kidding.”

Pyrrha placed one hand over her heart as she let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you. That’s wonderful to hear.”

“What are you so worried about?” Sunset demanded. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Pyrrha drifted over to her bed and sat down lightly upon it. “I worry… I’m afraid that one day, he’ll open his eyes and realise that there’s nothing here but a fair face and a little skill at combat.”

Sunset put her hands on her hips. “'A little skill at combat'?”

“Alright, a great deal of skill at combat,” Pyrrha conceded. “But an Atlesian robot could say as much, and no man would take one of those to love.”

Sunset didn’t point out that Pyrrha was a lot more skilled than an Atlesian combat robot, because it wasn’t really the point of what Pyrrha was saying. Her fears would not be assuaged by telling her that she was more skilled than she was giving herself credit for.

Nor, indeed, by reminding her that many men would take a pretty face and nothing more to love.

“You are so much more than you give yourself credit for,” Sunset reassured her. “You… you’re the Princess Without a Crown, for crying out loud.”

Pyrrha gave her an old-fashioned look.

“Okay, not the right thing to say,” Sunset conceded, “but you carry yourself… with more humility than you need to, but all the same… you have not the pride of an aristocrat; you do not walk with the confidence of one… but you combine the skill in war and the learning in lore of a true prince, you are kind hearted and gentle, and… and who wouldn’t love you? Honestly? I’m amazed that Professor Ozpin hasn’t started giving you special lessons because you are perfect ‘faithful student’ material.” Not that she wanted Pyrrha to fall further under the influence of the devious Professor Ozpin, but she was a little surprised the spider in the tower hadn’t tried to entice her into his parlour yet. “But leaving that aside… where is Jaune going to find a girl better than you in this place?”

“Ruby?” Pyrrha suggested. “I know… I pretended not to notice the way she looked at him, the way that… because she’s so very dear, and I didn’t want… I didn’t want to acknowledge that someone I care so much for might become my rival, but-”

“But he chose you, not her,” Sunset reminded her.

“For now,” Pyrrha allowed, “but she is so… so full of virtues-”

“So are you,” Sunset declared. “Listen, if you want to convince yourself that Jaune is yours, then get back out there and spend the night with him! What are you doing in here anyway?”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “If I go back down there, into the courtyard, will you come with me?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I… I’m taking my bike out for a spin.” She pulled her helmet out from under the bed and put it down on the mattress next to her jacket.

“Where will you go?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“What time will you be back?”

Sunset smirked. “I’m not sure, Mom.”

Pyrrha flushed a little. “I’m sorry, but… it is a little sudden, don’t you agree? I mean, why now? On the night before classes resume?”

“You know how it is,” Sunset replied. “Some things come on you suddenly.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Is something going on?”

“A lot of things, I imagine.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, wielding her name as an admonition.

“Sorry,” Sunset said. “Look, I can’t talk about this, okay? You’re going to have to trust me.”

“I see.” Pyrrha murmured. “Well, I… I wouldn’t want you to betray a confidence, I suppose.”

“Thanks,” Sunset replied. “If Jaune or Ruby ask where I am, tell them not to worry.” She grinned. “Don’t wait up, okay?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “Whatever it is you’re getting yourself mixed up in, you will be careful, won’t you?” She paused. “And you’ll tell Blake to be careful too?”

Sunset was silent a moment. “You’re too smart for your own good, Pyrrha Nikos.”

“It’s not that difficult to work out,” Pyrrha replied. “As I said, I won’t ask you to betray a confidence. But please take care. We would all be very hurt if something were to befall you, especially under these circumstances; I think Ruby would take it particularly hard.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” Sunset said with a thin smile. “I’ll be careful. And so might any hypothetical companions that I might have.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pyrrha said. “Are you leaving right now?”

Sunset checked the time. She still had a few minutes before the time that she and Blake had agreed upon. “I don’t have to go right away.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “While Ruby isn’t here, I’d like to talk to you about her silver eyes.”

Sunset nodded. “I wondered which one of us was going to say something first. You don’t want her to try and learn how to use them, do you?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’m not sure that she needs to learn how to use this… this magic at all.”

“Isn’t that her choice?”

“Aren’t we allowed to care about our friend?” Pyrrha countered. “I don’t see the need for her to go through this.”

“Just because we don’t see the need now doesn’t mean that there isn’t one,” Sunset said. “It just means that we haven’t seen it yet. And besides, you talk about her going through this… who says there’s anything to go through? It’s not like I’d let her go through with any kind of… I don’t know, unlock her eyes or die kind of thing.” Frankly, Sunset was a little hurt that Pyrrha thought – or might think – otherwise. She was a lot of things, and she worked hard, and she’d expect Ruby to do the same if they found a path to unlocking her magic that she could walk down, but there was a difference between working hard and breaking yourself – or someone else. She wasn’t going to do that to Ruby, and she’d thought that Pyrrha would know that by now.

“I’m not talking about physical damage. I know that you wouldn’t hurt Ruby that way,” Pyrrha said. “I’m talking about… I don’t think Ruby understands – or you, for that matter – what her life will be like if she starts using… magic. What people will think of her, how the world will see her.”

Sunset frowned. “And how do you think the world will see her?”

“As a silver-eyed warrior, you know as well as I do that she’ll have no chance of a normal life.”

“You’re assuming that Ruby wants a normal life,” Sunset said. “I’m not sure she does.”

“Ruby wants to save people,” Pyrrha said, “but I don’t think she wants the circus of fame and glory that goes with it.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Then she snorted.

“What?” Pyrrha asked.

“I was wondering… is there any chance that we’re both projecting ourselves onto Ruby a little bit?” Sunset asked. “Or projecting each other, maybe. I say that she doesn’t want a normal life; you say that she doesn’t want fame and glory. All we’re really saying is that she’s not Pyrrha Nikos, and she isn’t Sunset Shimmer either.”

Pyrrha looked briefly mortified before she covered her mouth with one hand and let out a tiny giggle. “I suppose you’re right. I am thinking a little too much of myself.”

“I get it,” Sunset said. “And, sure, I’d be lying if I said that the idea of this power, of obtaining it, of unlocking this magic within Ruby, didn’t excite me. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think this magic could be a good thing for us as a team. But if Ruby didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t bring it up ever again.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I suppose that I’ll have to be satisfied with that. I just… I don’t want her to end up like me.”

Sunset said, “I get it. But, honestly, she could do a lot worse.”

“Really?”

“Sure. She could end up like me.” Sunset grinned. “Anyway, I’ve got to go.” She posed. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

Sunset’s face fell. “My new gear!”

Thanks to the generosity of Lady Nikos, Sunset had a new cuirass strapped across her chest, larger than her old breastplate so that it actually covered her stomach as well as her bust. It was mostly plain grey metal but with a small image of her cutie mark set in the centre, roughly where it sat on the shirt she was wearing underneath. A pair of plain, round pauldrons protected her shoulders, while she had cowters wrapped around her elbows and a pair of metal vambraces – infused with lightning dust – wrapped around her forearms.

“Oh, you mean your armour.”

“Not as fancy as yours, I admit,” Sunset said, “but I like it anyway. And that’s not all.” She picked up her coat from up off the bed and pulled it on. “I had my jacket infused with fire dust as well.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “I hope that you don’t need it, but if you do… please take care of yourself.”

“Always,” Sunset said. She strapped on her new sword, Soteria, slung Sol Invictus over her shoulders, and grabbed her motorbike helmet before she left the dorm. The dorms were empty; everyone – almost everyone, Sunset corrected herself – was out on the courtyard enjoying the welcome reception and having such a jolly good time that none of them noticed – or at least cared about – Sunset as she slunk across the grounds towards the garages.

Said garages were a series of grey concrete blocks, standing in stark contrast to the elegantly understated architecture that characterised the rest of Beacon; the garages did not really fit in with the fairytale castle aesthetic of the rest of the school, but then, how would you make bays where the students could store any vehicles they might have fit in with such an aesthetic?

Not that it mattered at this stage. The important point was that nobody was around to see Sunset approaching the garage.

Nobody but Blake. She had changed out of her usual outfit into a short black jacket that left some of her midriff bare before the beginning of a pair of tight black pants that disappeared into her calf-length boots. She wore a short skirt, starting black and becoming practically transparent, over her trousers and around her waist.

“You got away then?” Sunset asked.

Blake didn’t reply. She just looked at Sunset as she tightened the black ribbon around her arm.

Sunset got out her scroll and used it to unlock and raise the door to garage thirteen. It elevated with a mixture of mechanical and motorised sounds, clattering and whirring as it rose to admit them.

Sunset grinned as the shadows receded into the garage, revealing her beautiful bike in all its glory.

“What,” Blake said, “is that?”

Sunset put on her helmet, then pushed the smoky visor up so that she could see Blake a little better. “You didn’t think we were going to walk to Vale, did you?”

“I thought you had a vehicle, not… this,” Blake replied.

“Hey, don’t talk about her that way,” Sunset said. It was true that her motorcycle looked a little… unusual. That was an unavoidable consequence of stealing all your parts from a junkyard because you couldn’t afford to buy a bike or the parts for one. Yes, it had some of the exhaust pipes off a Black Shadow but not all of them, and the high handle bars of a Leopard but not the right wheels to go with it, but if you could look past that, if you could look past the outward appearance and see the soul beneath, then you’d see that her bike had it where it counted: engine power.

“Look,” Sunset added, climbing on. “It’s either this or walk.”

Blake hesitated for a moment. “It… is safe, right?”

“Of course it’s safe,” Sunset snapped. “I’m driving.”

Blake walked – very slowly – over to the bike and climbed on behind Sunset. Sunset felt Blake’s arms around her waist, squeezing her tight.

Blake said, “I snuck out. The rest of my team don’t know where I’ve gone. Do you think…do you think they’ll worry?”

“Probably,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha wasn’t happy about this either.”

“And Ruby? Jaune?”

“I didn’t tell them,” Sunset said. “But what can we say, really? We can’t tell them we’re going to take on the White Fang. What’s the plan for that, by the way?”

“I thought we could call at Tukson’s first,” Blake said. “He might have some information on what the White Fang is planning next. If we can find out their next move, then we can stop them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sunset said. She started the engine and listened to it purr beneath her. “Okay, let’s go for a ride.”

Sun watched Blake and Sunset ride off into the night. He didn’t know exactly where they were going for the simple reason that Blake hadn’t told him.

He wished she had, but… he recognised that there were parts of her past, of herself, that Blake preferred to keep to herself, private; parts that he wasn’t allowed to access. Parts that maybe he would never be allowed to access.

And that was fine by him. She didn’t need to give herself over to him body and soul. Just the parts of her that she let him see were good enough for him. No, they weren’t just good; they were… they were amazing.

At first, he’d only seen Blake as a pretty girl. Then he’d seen her as a pretty girl in trouble. But now… now he saw someone who had – as best as he could work out because, again, not big on talking about her past – been through some terrible things and still come through it with her strength and compassion. Someone who was brave without being hard, like so many folks were in Vacuo; someone who was kind without being dumb or smart without being cold. Someone who burned like a fire underneath her snowy exterior.

And yeah, she needed her space. That was fine with Sun, not just because she was worth it but because he got it. He was the kind of guy who needed space himself. He’d never been much of one for sitting still in one place before. Blake… Blake was the first person he’d ever met he thought might actually be the person to get him to stop walking and settle down… but she seemed like she might need to keep moving even more than he did.

Sun didn’t know where she was going. He didn’t know exactly what was driving her on so furiously. He only knew that something was. He didn’t have to know what.

There were things she couldn’t, wouldn’t tell him, and he was fine with that. Blake was worth it.

But he would give her the help she needed, even if it wasn’t the help she wanted.

Sun got out his scroll and called Rainbow Dash.

Sunset pulled up outside of Tukson’s Book Trade. The shop was dark – not surprising, considering that it was late at night and well past opening hours – and the street outside the shop was still and quiet. There were no night owls in this part of town, it seemed. Not too surprising; this was a shopping district after all, and a shopping district which included upmarket book shops and boutique dust shops at that, so it wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d expect to see people out late at night.

All the better for us, I suppose.

Still, the lights were on upstairs, so it seemed as though he hadn’t gone to bed yet.

As Blake hopped off the bike – looking rather relieved to put her booted feet back on solid ground again – she got out her scroll and started calling someone.

Calling Tukson – obviously, after the fact – as shown by the fact that it was the bookseller’s slightly gruff voice that answered. “Blake? Is everything okay? Are you in trouble again?” He sounded more concerned on her behalf than he did put out that she might be coming to her for help.

“No, it’s not like that,” Blake said. “But… I would like to talk to you. I’m outside with Sunset. Can you come down and let us in?”

Tukson paused for a moment. “Sure,” he said. “Give me a second.”

He ended the call.

Sunset climbed off her bike and pulled her helmet off her head as she let the motorcycle rest upon the pavement. Her fiery hair fell down around her face. “You know, I sometimes wonder if you realise how lucky you are.”

Blake looked at Sunset, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You act like you have it so bad,” Sunset said, “but you are surrounded by people like Sun, like Tukson, who are willing to go the extra mile for you without asking for anything in return.”

“And you’re not?” Blake replied. “Think about what you have with Ruby, with Jaune and Pyrrha, and then tell me why you have any reason to be jealous of me.”

“I never said that I was jealous, I just…” Sunset paused for a moment. Her tail curled up towards her waist. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve got a lot more going for you than you seem to realise.”

“If this is some kind of ‘you’re not alone’ speech, then… you needn’t bother,” Blake said. “I know that there are people who care about me. But at the same time… this isn’t their fight, and I don’t want to get them involved in this if I can avoid it. Just because I’m fortunate enough that there are people who want to be around me doesn’t mean that I have the right to pull them into my struggles. You know what I’m talking about, or you wouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Sunset replied cheekily. “I’m with you.”

Blake snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sunset muttered. “I don’t know why me of all people. If you didn’t want to talk to the Atlesians, you could have gone to Pyrrha-”

“We both know that if I had gone to one of your teammates behind your back, you would have been furious.”

“Oh, I would have been beyond furious,” Sunset corrected her, “but you still could have done it.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “You argue with me,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“You argue with me,” Blake repeated. “You’re doing it right now. Adam… nobody ever fought with Adam. Nobody ever told him that he was wrong… or that he was infuriating. They just let him do whatever he wanted, descend deeper and deeper. I’m trusting you not to let me do that.”

“I’m flattered… I think,” Sunset said quietly.

The door to the bookshop opened. Tukson stood in the doorway, framed by the lights spilling out from inside the store. “Blake,” he said. “Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset nodded. “Mister Tukson.”

Blake took a few steps towards him. “I’m sorry to bother you, but… can we come in?”

Tukson took a step backwards, “Sure,” he said. “Come on inside.”

Blake led the way, and Sunset followed. Only once they were both inside did Tukson close and lock the door behind them. The tint on the windows was so full that they were black and completely opaque. Nobody could see in.

“Do you want to come into the back?” Tukson asked. “I can make some tea.”

“Thanks,” Sunset said, but Blake held up one hand.

“We won’t trespass on your hospitality for too long,” Blake murmured.

“Are you sure?” Tukson said, turning around and walking towards the back. “It’s no trouble.”

“Tukson,” Blake said softly, “I’m here for information.”

Tukson stopped, close by the counter. He rested one hand upon it as he turned around. “You’re not in trouble, you said, and you wouldn’t have any reason to lie about that,” he muttered. “So that means… you’re going to war?”

“That’s a little melodramatic,” Blake replied.

“Not by much,” Sunset grunted. “She wants to take on the White Fang. Alone. After just walking away from a meeting with the Atlesians where she told them she wasn’t going to help them.”

“Blake-“ Tukson began reproachfully.

“You can’t honestly be suggesting that I should trust Atlas,” Blake replied. “And you… thank you,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sunset smirked smugly. “Any time.”

“I understand that it’s Atlas,” Tukson said, “but all the same, Blake, you can’t do this by yourself.”

“I’m not alone,” Blake pointed out, echoing her companion's words from moments earlier. “I have Sunset.”

“You know what I mean,” Tukson said firmly.

“And you know that something big is going on, and I can’t just sit in class and ignore that,” Blake declared. “What are they planning, Tukson? Have you had any word from your contacts in the White Fang?”

“No,” Tukson replied. “And that… that’s what makes me think you need to go back to that school and stay there. Tell the Atlesians about me, and I’ll tell them everything, but you need to stay out of this.”

“Why?” Sunset said. “I mean, I know it’s dangerous, but this… this seems a little more… did something happen?”

“My contacts stopped answering; that’s what happened,” Tukson replied. “The last guy who sent me a message said that he was risking death to do it. Adam started cleaning house after the debacle at the docks. The old guard, the guys I knew, the ones who weren’t so on board with Adam… they’re all gone, Blake. Or at least, they’ve all fallen silent. I’m afraid we both know what that likely means.”

Blake fell silent herself, her eyes widening as one hand rushed to cover her mouth. “Oh, gods,” she whispered. “And you… then what are you still doing here?” she demanded.

Tukson took a step back. “Blake, what are you-”

“If any of them talked, if any of them even breathed your name, then you could be in danger!” Blake cried. “You have to get out of here now, before Adam sends somebody to kill you! Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t you gone?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you-”

“You didn’t want to worry me?” Blake shouted. “I’m worried now! You need to go, before… before anything happens to you.”

Tukson didn’t reply, not for a moment at least. He looked around his shop and all the books on the towering shelves that lined the walls and cluttered the shop floor. “You want me to go?” he asked. “You want me to run away and abandon everything that I’ve built here?”

“I want you to be safe,” Blake replied in a whisper.

Tukson smiled fondly. “That’s sweet of you, Blake,” he said, “but sometimes, we have to make a stand for what we believe in, right?”

Blake’s ears stiffened. Her cheeks reddened a little. She pouted. But she didn’t reply. Sunset – although she didn’t understand the context of what Tukson had just said – guessed that was because she couldn’t.

I wish I could shut her up like that.

Sunset’s ears twitched. She looked towards the door and windows of the bookshop, and Blake did the same.

There were footsteps outside, footsteps on the pavement beyond the bookshop. Nothing too unusual, perhaps, but the street had been so quiet before.

“Look at that ugly-ass bike,” Torchwick said. “Do you think there’s someone else in here?”

This is bad, Sunset thought as her hand moved gingerly towards the hammer of her rifle. It felt as though everyone in the bookstore was holding their breath.

“What if there is?” Adam grunted. “Are you squeamish about eliminating witnesses?”

This is really bad!

Someone whimpered. It could have been Blake, or it could have been Sunset herself. But the memory of that sword, of the world turning black until only Adam, red as blood, remained visible flashed before Sunset’s eyes. The memory of Ruby’s scream of pain filled her ears and made them flatten atop her head.

Rage and fear battled within her soul. She wanted to run. She wanted to kill Adam.

She wished Pyrrha were here.

“I’ve got no issue with killing; I just prefer to do as little of it as necessary,” Torchwick replied. “If there is someone in there-”

“Then they will pay for associating with traitors to our cause,” Adam declared. “You’ve arranged everything with the cops, right?”

“Yeah, sure, they won’t respond to any calls from around here,” Torchwick muttered.

“Good,” Adam said, with relish in his voice. “Then it doesn’t matter if Tukson has one guest or twenty. Everyone inside that store dies tonight.” Sunset heard the sound – or perhaps she imagined that she could hear the sound – of a blade being drawn. “Thus ever to traitors.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is mostly different from what was there before, but preserves the discussion between Pyrrha and Sunset which I quite liked. Obviously Tukson is (still) alive, as one of the things that has been pointed out to me is that Vale feels much more like a stage set than a real place, and a big part of that is that nobody lives there.

Scarred (Rewritten)

Scarred

“Take cover,” Sunset said. “Blake, stay with Tukson.”

“Wait,” Blake began, “what are you-?”

Sunset didn’t give her the chance to respond before she teleported.

Teleportation was easier when it was sight to sight; with the windows tinted to be blacker than the night outside, Sunset couldn’t see where she was going, but it was only a brief hop from inside the store to the street outside, and her memory wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t recall the details she’d only just come from.

So long as she didn’t teleport into Adam or Torchwick, she’d be fine.

And she was fine, thank Celestia; she appeared with a crack and a flash of green light not far from her motorcycle, about half a foot off the pavement; Sunset wasn’t concerned about the use of magic: with Adam around, it might be the most use she was going to get out of it.

She appeared and quickly dropped onto the pavement with a soft thud, a few feet away from Adam and Torchwick. Adam was in the lead, with Torchwick trailing a little behind him. Sunset gritted her teeth. She would have preferred it the other way around; she didn’t think that Torchwick was quite so good at blocking bullets.

But she had to work with what she was confronted with.

Sunset hit the ground and dropped to one knee, bringing Sol Invictus to her shoulder in a smooth, fluid motion.

She started firing. Sol Invictus cracked three times, shattering the stillness of the night air. She hit Adam once, staggering him back a step with the impact, but by the time of her second shot, he was already reacting to her presence. His sword, that terrible crimson blade, leapt from its scabbard to trace blood-red patterns in the air as he parried her second and third rounds. Adam darted to the right, his sword in one hand and the sheath-gun aimed at her in the other hand; he unmasked Torchwick behind him as he dashed into the middle of the empty street.

Adam fired, the bullet thudding harmlessly into a shield hastily conjured. Torchwick raised his cane. Sunset was faster, and a beam of magic erupted from her palm to hit him square in the chest and blast him backwards and flat onto his back. Adam fired again, hitting Sunset in the shoulder. She felt the blow like a punch from Yang, spinning her around and knocking her onto her belly; her new cuirass hit the pavement with a metallic clang.

Sunset knew what was coming next. She teleported again, appearing in the air a couple of feet above the ground and back from where she had been and where Adam was charging towards. Sunset shot at him; once more, he parried the blow with his sword.

Sunset’s feet thudded onto the ground, her knees bending. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get very far by shooting him. But then, she ought to have known that already.

She couldn’t shoot him with bullets, and she didn’t dare attack him with magic, because he’d just take it on that damn sword of his, and she’d end up making him stronger.

Which meant that she was going to have to do this close quarters. Just like she'd feared when she'd decided to go to Pyrrha for help fixing that gap in her training.

If Dash can do it… yeah, even I can’t make myself believe that.

But she would try it anyway. He had hurt Ruby, he had terrified Sunset, she wasn’t going to let him hold that over her forever.

She wasn’t going to be ruled by her fear.

She was going to be ruled by her anger.

Sunset bared her teeth at him, this man who had hurt Ruby. He had hurt Ruby, and he was going to pay for it.

Sunset put one hand upon her jacket, and with a touch of her aura, she ignited the fire dust that she had infused into the fabric. The spark spread across the jacket, igniting the fire dust infused into the material as fire rippled up Sunset's arm and across her back until half her body seemed to be burning with flames of crimson and gold. And yes, she had chosen the colours to match her hair, because if you were going to do this, then you might as well make it look cool.

My Phoenix Cape.

Sunset let the fires burn upon her back and arms for a moment, and then she charged at Adam, a roar of anger ripping from her throat, her bayonet gleaming in the moonlight as she jabbed it at him like a spear.

Adam parried, once, twice, three times turning her thrusts aside. But he did not counterattack. He couldn’t, Sunset had reach on her side, and she wasn’t letting him get close to her. He could knock her bayonet and rifle barrel aside, but Sunset simply recoiled and thrust forward again.

He didn’t look particularly concerned, but it was hard to read his face behind that mask with its blood red lines upon it.

Torchwick seemed to think that Adam was holding his own with no assistance needed. As Sol Invictus clashed with Adam’s crimson blade, Torchwick picked himself up off the ground and approached the door to Tukson’s Book Trade. He reached for the handle-

The door slammed open into his face, knocking him back with a cry of irritation as Blake emerged out of the crack in the doorway, her black ribbon spinning around her as she hurled herself on Torchwick in a blur of frenzied motion that drove him backwards by the sheer fury of her onslaught.

Not that Sunset had much attention to pay to that. She had to focus on her own fight and on her own opponent.

Adam batted Sol Invictus aside again, and Sunset retreated a couple of steps. She wasn’t getting very far; she might have to change things up somehow.

She teleported directly behind Adam, thrusting her bayonet forward for the small of his back, but he twisted in place with the nimbleness of an eel and the speed of a pegasus in flight to parry her assault again.

He smirked at her. “I remember you,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “You were there at the docks that night.”

Sunset smirked right back at him. “I was there when we stopped your little scheme, yeah.”

Adam chuckled. “A temporary setback, a momentary check upon an advance to glory that cannot be halted. And in the process, you lost something too, didn’t you?”

Sunset growled wordlessly, thrusting forward at him. He retreated a step, parrying the thrust.

“The little girl in the red cloak,” Adam said. “The one who pushed you out of the way. Is that why you’re here? Is this some quest for revenge?”

“Shut up,” Sunset snarled. “She’s not dead. You messed that up too.”

“Huh,” Adam said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Must be one tough girl.”

“She is.”

Adam’s smirk broadened. “I’ll be sure to take her head next time to make good and sure.”

Sunset bellowed in anger as she went for him, reversing the grip of Sol Invictus in her hands so that she was wielding it like a club, swinging the wooden stock for his head. He wanted to talk of taking heads? She was going to bash his in so that he could never, ever get anywhere near Ruby again. And then she would pluck that sword from out of his cold dead hands, and everyone – everyone – would know that you didn’t mess with Sunset Shimmer and get away with it!

She hurled herself at him, swinging the butt of her rifle, trying to hit his head, to hit any part of him with her furious blows. Her teeth were bared, her ears were flattened against the top of her head, and her tail was rigid with anger as she swung at him again and again. Adam took the blows upon his sword, giving ground before her, the smirk still fixed upon his face; the sight of that smirk only made Sunset’s anger burn all the hotter. She could feel the heat from her phoenix cape mingling with the sweat of her wrath as if she were actually on fire herself.

“I didn’t kill your friend, but you’re still angry about it,” Adam observed. He chuckled. “So much fury in those eyes of yours. And that power, the way you teleport? Ah, if only I had found you before the huntsmen academies got their claws in you. What use I and the White Fang might have made of someone like you. What use we still could.”

Sunset’s only response to that suggestion – that she might join the White Fang after they had almost killed her friend – was to attack him harder, try to move faster, to assail his guard with even more furious intensity than before.

“Yes, you’re angry,” Adam declared. “That’s good. Anger will keep you alive.” His smile broadened. “Until you find yourself up against an even greater fury than your own!”

And Sunset learned that he had just been playing with her all this time. But now he was done with playing, and as he went on the counterattack against her, Sunset swiftly learned the difference between Adam toying and Adam fighting. He got faster and stronger out of nowhere, all the reserves that he had been holding back while it pleased him to let him expend her strength against him suddenly flooding to the fore. Sunset had beaten upon his defences like a tide assailing the sea wall, but now, Adam was like an ocean tempest which catches a lonely sailing ship at sea and sweeps that gallant vessel to a watery grave. Sunset staggered backwards, desperately parrying his furious slashing strokes with Sol Invictus. He was so fast, faster than she was, and he was so strong, stronger than she was; she turned aside, presenting her flaming sleeve to his stroke. The flames of the phoenix cape leapt higher as the crimson sword descended towards it, the fire of the dust erupting in a burning geyser, so that even as his stroke bit into Sunset’s aura, she could be sure of burning away some of his as well; it was probably the first bit of harm she’d done to his aura all night, and didn’t that hurt to admit.

That was the point of infusing her jacket with dust like this: she couldn’t be harmed without harming her attacker in turn.

Adam took a step back. His blade had only a faint red glow, not enough to really worry her, not yet.

On the other side of the street, Blake had been joined in the fight by Tukson, but it seemed as though even together they were struggling to bring the fight with Torchwick to a close.

Adam’s expression was still and solemn. “Do you think that dust protects you?” he asked. “Do you think that I am afraid of a little harm? Do you honestly believe that I will not suffer much worse than this for the sake of my people?”

He seemed genuinely angry now, anger borne out of a sense of affront as he charged at her, his red blade swinging, biting at Sunset’s aura, heedless of the damage he was taking to his own as he drove her back, knocking Sol Invictus out of her hands, slashing at her, slicing into her aura until he had Sunset on the ground with his foot upon her cuirass.

He raised his sword to stab down at her.

With a pulse of aura, Sunset activated the lightning dust in one of her vambraces; it sparked and crackled, snapping like a pack of wild dogs as he lashed out from the metal plate to tear at Adam’s leg. He growled in pain, faltering, momentarily distracted.

Sunset’s hand glowed as she picked up her motorcycle in the grip of her telekinesis and dragged it towards them both.

Adam turned, but slower than before, thrown off-balance by Sunset’s lightning attack, and the motorcycle hit him square in the face and chest, hurling him off Sunset and sending him flying with a grunt of pain.

Sunset rolled away, picking herself up and onto her feet. She drew her sword, Soteria, uncertain whether or not to ignite the fire dust she had infused with the black blade.

Sunset heard Blake gasp in pain. She turned to see Torchwick catch Blake with a blow to the side and then to the face that knocked her flying backwards, hair askew.

“Blake!” Sunset yelled.

Tukson slashed at Torchwick with his claws, but the man in white evaded the wild stroke easily before bringing the tip of his cane down on Tukson’s head and beating the bigger man into the ground. Torchwick laughed as he aimed his cane at Blake while she was down.

Adam regained his feet and charged at Sunset, his expression set in a rictus of anger.

A fusillade of fire stopped Adam in his tracks, forcing him to retreat, desperately parrying bullets with his sword, just as Sun leapt down from out of the sky to nail Torchwick with a flying kick that sent them both to the ground in a thrashing tangle of arms and legs.

They were up and on their feet in a moment, staff and cane alike whirling and clacking in a furious rhythm.

There was an Atlesian Skyray overhead, painted in a garish neon blue with accents in all the colours of the rainbow, a Skyray from which leapt Rainbow Dash, her metallic wings unfurled as he glided down to the ground, firing her SMGs at Adam as she flew and fell.

She landed in front of Sunset, between her and Adam and right in Adam’s face as her wings tucked in behind her, and she holstered her SMGs and, diving beneath the stroke of Adam’s sword, punched him in the gut.

There was a boom like a peal of thunder, and Sunset caught sight of a shockwave emanating from Dash’s fist as Adam, his face contorted, was picked up off the ground and hurled away like a ragdoll.

Rainbow pursued him, a rainbow trailing behind her as she charged, but Adam was back on his feet a split second before she reached him. He raised his sheath and fired twice at Rainbow, but Dash dodged the shots – which Sunset had to conjure a shield to protect herself from in turn – by sliding along the ground. Adam leapt up, avoiding her attempt to sweep his legs out from under him, but Rainbow pushed herself off the ground with one hand and caught him with a flying kick on the side of his face that knocked his mask off to land with a clatter in the road.

Rainbow kept up the pursuit, one fist raised… and then she stopped, frozen in place, her magenta eyes widening.

Sunset could not restrain a little gasp herself as she understood why: they could see Adam’s face now, what lay beneath the mask.

He had been branded, his left eye ruined by the ugly mark that had been burned into his skin: the letters "SDC."

Sunset had never seen anything like it. She had never so much as heard of anything like it. Small wonder that Rainbow hesitated.

Adam did not hesitate. He slashed at her with his sword, and this time, Rainbow did not dodge the stroke; Sunset couldn’t even say that she was trying to. Whether she was trying to or not, the stroke caught her in the midriff and sent her flying.

Adam climbed to his feet. He was panting heavily, Rainbow’s attack must have taken a lot of his aura.

“Look,” he growled, his one remaining eye glowering, seeming almost to burn with a blue fire of his hatred of humanity. “Look at me! Look at what your precious Atlas does to those who are judged unworthy!”

Sunset summoned Sol Invictus into her hands. Rainbow Dash reached for her shotgun, but before Sunset could close her fingers around her gun, she was kicked in the face by the diminutive girl with the pink and brown hair who had gotten in her and Ruby’s way during the dust shop robbery on the night they met. Having sent Sunset sprawling with her unexpected appearance in the battle, she turned her attention to Rainbow Dash. Or rather, the person who had just kicked Sunset in the face shattered like fragments of glass before another copy of her appeared in Rainbow’s face, lashing out at her with feet and with her parasol both, and while she didn’t manage to land a hit on Rainbow, it was also true to say that Rainbow didn’t land a hit on her either; they danced for a moment, a rhythm of blows dodged in rolling, elastic motions, before the little girl in the old-fashioned get-up leapt backwards to stand by Adam. Torchwick, having brought himself just enough of an advantage over Sun to disengage, joined them.

“Perfect timing as always, Neo,” he muttered.

Neo – if that was the girl’s name – looked insufferably smug to hear it.

The Skyray landed. The side door was open, revealing Ciel Soleil with her enormous rifle in hand. She placed one hand upon her ear. “This is Rosepetal Two, requesting backup at Princess Aurora Street-”

Neo smirked at Sunset and curtsied politely to all concerned.

Rainbow shot her, and the three figures of Neo, Adam, and Torchwick all shattered like glass, disappearing into nothingness, leaving behind an empty street and the three of them nowhere to be found.

“What the-?“ Sun said. “Where did they go?”

The screech of tires echoed towards their ears from a street or so away.

“Into that getaway vehicle, I suppose,” Sunset muttered.

“It is unfortunate that they didn’t use a Bullhead,” Ciel growled. “Command, this is Rosepetal Two, requesting an aerial search of the area around Princess Aurora Street; suspects are fleeing in an unidentified vehicle.”

Blake crouched down by the prone and unconscious Tukson. Blood was beginning to pool around his head. “He needs help!” she cried.

“Also, please send medical assistance; we have a civilian down,” Ciel added.

Blake’s golden eyes were wide as she looked from Sun to Ciel to Rainbow Dash. “What… what are you three doing here?”

“Saving you, apparently,” Ciel answered. “Rainbow Dash, what are your orders?”

Rainbow didn’t reply, she was staring at the space where… where Adam had been. Her features were creased by a frown of confusion, her eyes flickering back and forth as though there was something that she did not – could not – comprehend.

“Rainbow Dash!” Ciel repeated, more loudly this time.

But Rainbow did not reply.

Sunset was certain she knew what Rainbow was thinking of: the brand on the face of Adam that now was branded upon their minds.

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: In addition to a fight with Torchwick and Neo changing to a fight with Torchwick and Adam, Sunset's Phoenix Cape has been nerfed a bit because dust probably doesn't work that way.

Plus, of course, now everyone knows about Adam's branded face in one of the clearest signs of volume 6 influencing the writing.

I Fought the Law (And Atlas Won) (Rewritten)

I Fought the Law (And Atlas Won)

For a moment, Blake tensed to run. If she could make it past the cops – and using her clones, that shouldn’t be impossible – then she could sprint down the corridor and…

And what?

Even if she did get out of the gallery, even if the shocked and outraged look on Cardin’s face and Nora’s expression of confusion and the way that her own team looked as though they’d been collectively pole-axed meant that they were all too stunned to try and stop her, even if one of the literally hundreds of students in the classroom didn’t catch her before she could get out, even if she did get out of this room, out of this immediate situation… did she really think that she was going anywhere? Did she really think that she could escape from a whole school full of huntsmen, from the professors and the upperclassmen, from Professor Goodwitch?

Did she really think she was going to escape the grounds, and even if she did, what then? Where would she go? Tukson was in intensive care under Atlesian guard; there was no one she knew to help her move on to somewhere else, start afresh with a new life in Vacuo or someplace.

Where would she go? Would she hang around the streets of Vale, dumpster diving, and avoiding the cops? What kind of a life was that, and was she willing to drag Sun – sweet, loyal, utterly foolish Sun – into that sort of miserable existence when he followed her, as it seemed almost certain that he would? Would she stowaway on a boat to Menagerie and crawl back home to face the disappointment of her parents?

Where would she go?

There was nowhere she could go.

She didn’t want to go.

She didn’t want to leave Beacon, she didn’t want to go anywhere else, she didn’t want to leave the people that she’d met here.

The friends that she’d made here.

But she had no choice but to go; not to run, but to go with the police to wherever they intended to take her. She couldn’t run; she couldn’t run because she wouldn’t escape, because she had nowhere to go even if she did escape… but also because, as she contemplated fleeing from this as she had fled from all her problems in the past – fled from Menagerie, fled from her parents and her home, fled from Adam and the White Fang – she caught sight of three faces; two faces which, amidst the crowd of shocked and frightened and furious expressions, looked to be on her side.

Sun, Sunset, and Rainbow Dash.

Sun was closest to her, both physically – whether she wanted him to be at that particular moment or not – and emotionally too. He had been there for her when she had been at her lowest ebb; he had approached her when no one else would. Even now, it seemed that he was trying to reach her, trying to shake off the hands of his friend Neptune and his teammate Scarlet as they tried to sit him down and keep him away.

Sunset stood at the front of the classroom, barely a few feet away from the cops and the headmaster; her look was tense, and her hands were beginning to glow with the energy of her semblance. Sunset didn’t seem to actually like Blake very much, and Blake had to say that the feeling was mutual; if she were to choose a single word to describe Sunset at this moment, it might well end up being ‘callous,’ reflecting the lack of concern or fellow feeling that she had for anyone outside of her very narrow social circle. But Sunset, for all that she might act as though Blake was an idiot, had nevertheless never failed to support her, to help Blake when she had asked for help, to back her up even at the risk to her own life. And if she had done so reluctantly and accompanied by a great deal of sour grumbling, did that really matter? It seemed that she was even ready to defy the law for Blake’s sake, just as she had once defied Rainbow Dash. That had been payment of a debt, but the debt was paid now, so then why did she go so far for Blake?

She must have meant it when she said she felt a kinship between us.

If Blake decided to run, then it seemed that Sun and Sunset would both try to help her get away, at least away from here.

And then there was Rainbow Dash. The Atlesian student did not seem quite so ready to leap into action on Blake’s behalf, but in her magenta eyes, there was a sadness and an understanding that Blake had not expected to see. Her expression was pinched, as if she would have liked to do something but was not entirely sure yet what to do. Blake still thought of Rainbow as one of those privileged faunus who did not really understand what their race went through – how could she, being so well-connected as she was, soaring as high as she did? – but as she looked into Rainbow’s eyes, perhaps Rainbow did remember what life for the average faunus was like after all.

She could not run. She wouldn’t cause that kind of trouble for Sun and Sunset.

Blake stood up, and as she stood up, she glanced at her teammates, not realizing how much their reactions would hurt her until she saw them: outrage from Bon Bon, open-mouthed disbelief from Lyra, and from Sky, her partner, anger that verged on hatred.

Whatever came next, whatever these cops wanted from her, a part of her life was over now. She could never go back to being just plain Blake Belladonna. Whatever happened, if she ever came back here, it would be as Blake the Faunus, Blake the Terrorist, Blake of the White Fang.

She would no longer be a person in this place, but a symbol of her kind.

Sienna would say that that’s exactly why we need the White Fang. But the White Fang had set her up – Blake had no doubt that they had ultimately tipped off the cops and sent that video, if only because there was no one else who could have done it – so she wasn’t feeling too inclined to grant the validity of Sienna’s talking points.

If there was one thing in this awful situation that consoled her, it was the thought that, although she had barely begun to fight back, she had somebody sufficiently worried that they had done this to stop her. If she ever had the liberty to pursue it further, she would do so confident that she was on the right track.

If they allowed her a phone call, she would let Sunset know that she had to keep going, because they were onto something for a certainty. It was true that Sunset had been decidedly unenthusiastic about pressing on, but she’d been unenthusiastic about it yesterday and had nevertheless agreed to help Blake regardless; Blake was confident – Blake hoped – that it would be the same again, that Sunset would grumble but ultimately do the right thing.

But such thoughts were for later, for whatever ‘later’ might mean and hold for her. For now, she had to face the music.

Slowly, and feeling a surprising sense of liberation, an un-knotting of the constant feeling of tension that had been a part of her stomach for so long that she had learnt to live with it, with a weird feeling of relief that the worst that could happen had happened and she no longer hard to worry about her secret getting out any more, Blake untied the bow from on top of her head.

She heard a few gasps as people beheld her faunus ears, jutting out sharply like knives from the top of her head.

She would have liked to have said something to Sun, but the rest of the world wasn’t going to stop for them to have a moment. This wasn’t the kind of story where she’d have all the time in the world to say goodbye, to get him to promise to forget all about her or not, to say all the things that she found it so very hard to say.

She leapt from her seat and landed down on the stage of the lecture theatre in front of the cops and Professors Port and Ozpin.

“Here I am,” she told Lieutenant Martinez. “I’m Blake Belladonna.”

Rainbow Dash was surprised and not surprised.

She was not surprised that Blake was getting arrested. Or rather, she was and was not surprised. She was surprised that Blake’s secret was out like this, although when she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t so surprising that somebody had taken steps to shut Blake up through other means, since killing her was starting to look like a non-starter. It took guts to do it, though; she wondered how they had tipped off the cops without getting caught themselves, and to send this video so that even if Blake got her legal troubles cleared up, she couldn’t go back to school and try to brazen the whole thing out… it was a gutsy play, that was for sure.

The kind of guts that might, with a bit of luck, prove to be the undoing of their enemies.

She was a lot less surprised that the cops had taken the bait and arrested Blake. Rainbow hated to sound like… well, like Blake, but in her experience, police had a habit of locking up a faunus whether they deserved it or not. She’d first met Twilight when she’d tried to help her out from a bit of trouble she was in, and she’d been the one to get arrested for it, even though she was only trying to help because she was a faunus. She was lucky that Twilight and her folks hadn’t seen it the same way: they’d bailed her out of jail and given her a place to stay for the night, which had then turned into a place to stay for the next several months until they both went to Canterlot that fall.

But if Rainbow wasn’t surprised that the cops had come to arrest the person with good intentions but too many ears, she was more surprised that Blake so meekly allowed herself to be taken into custody. When the lieutenant came in waving her warrant,. Rainbow had thought for sure that Blake was going to run. She’d looked as though she was going to run, but then… she had looked at Rainbow, and it seemed that she had spotted the fact that Sun and Sunset were both prepared to help her out and decided that she didn’t want to cause them the trouble.

She’s got a good heart underneath all that stubbornness.

She reminds me of myself, a little bit.

Rainbow had never considered trying to hide her ears and pass for human; some did, of course, like Blake’s old buddy Ilia from Crystal Prep who had kept it up for years, but Rainbow had never contemplated it for herself. What would have been the point? She knew who her friends were; they were the girls who had accepted her for who and what she was. She didn’t need to hide her ears around Twilight or Pinkie or any of the others. She didn’t need to pretend to be human at Sugarcube Corner, or even in the halls of Canterlot.

Some might have called what was happening now justice. Not too long ago, Rainbow would have said that it was no more than Blake deserved. She had been a member of the White Fang, after all. But now… now, Rainbow wasn’t so sure. Blake was a lot of things, including a former terrorist and someone who had been brainwashed with an unthinking dislike of all things Atlas… but she was also trying to do better, and she knew things that could help them stop a major terrorist attack on Vale.

And she wasn’t going to be too much help to them in a Valish cell, was she?

“I know that some of you will have questions,” Professor Ozpin said, grave-faced and leaning upon his cane as the police led Blake away. “I know that some of you will be confused and alarmed by this development. I ask you to remain calm and to remember that I – and the entire faculty – treat your safety at this school as our highest priority. That said, Peter, I’m sorry, but I think it best to dismiss this class for today; I’m not sure if you will all be in a fit state to continue learning. If you have questions or concerns, my door is open. I ask only that you remember that everyone is the hero of their own story and consider carefully whether they must then be the villain of yours.”

“What are you thinking?” Ciel asked as the other students began to rise from their seats amidst much hubbub and babble about what had just occurred.

I’m thinking of a faunus girl locked in a cell and the girl who took a chance and opened the door for her. “I’m thinking that we can’t exactly fulfill General Ironwood’s orders with Blake thrown in prison,” Rainbow said, “and I have the start of a plan, not all the details yet, but… Twi, can you find out who sent that video to everybody?”

“I’m already working on it,” Twilight replied, “but I’ll be able to work faster if I can get back to our room and use the computer there.”

“Do it and take Penny with you,” Rainbow said. “Penny, go with Twilight and keep her safe until Ciel and me come back.”

Penny saluted. “She’ll be safe with me!”

Rainbow grinned. “Sure she will.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Ciel.

“We… are going to talk to Sunset,” Rainbow said.

How quickly the smiles die, Sunset thought, as she watched the shock and fear and anger blossom on the faces of her classmates. How swiftly affection is replaced by fear and hatred. If you could see this, Princess Celestia, would you not understand how easily I could turn my back on friendship and affection? There is no loyalty to be found in it.

None, save in the rarest of cases.

Even you, even we... one mistake, and all that has been done and shared is fast forgotten, all memories of happiness fade, and there is nothing but disgust and disdain.

If Blake had decided to run, then Sunset would have helped her. She'd been prepared to help her: her plan had been to block the doorway with a shield once Blake got out so that she couldn't be pursued. But Blake decided not to run, for reasons that Sunset honestly couldn't fathom. In the face of all the shock and anger, in the face of the dying of all the smiles, she decided to stand.

It fits her nature and pattern of behaviour, I suppose.

Sunset turned away as Blake, vested of her pitiful disguise, walked down to deliver herself up into the custody of the Vale police. That wasn't something that she wanted to watch: Blake being marched out in the custody of the guards under the eyes of those who had once called her friend. She remembered what it felt like too much to want to watch it done to another.

Besides, by turning away… she could likewise turn away from the fact that there was nothing she could do. That she was helpless in the face of the majesty of law and state and all the prejudice that went hand in hand with the same.

She didn’t see her team approaching her, but they must have been on their way because she heard Rainbow Dash say to them, “Hey guys, I need to borrow Sunset for a bit, is that okay? Great, thanks.”

Rainbow didn’t wait for a real response, but took Sunset by the arm and steered her out of the classroom and down the corridor – in the opposite direction to that which most of the other students were heading in. Her teammate Ciel followed them both like a silent shadow.

“Guys!” Sun cried as he raced after them, heedless of Neptune’s attempts to stop him. “You have to do something to help Blake! I mean, you know she’s not a terrorist, right? Just because she used to be doesn’t mean that she ought to be punished for being one now!”

“You should have studied law,” Sunset muttered. “You’d be a marvel at the Inns of Court.”

“Relax, Sun,” Rainbow assured him. “We are going to do everything we can to help Blake out of this fix.”

“You are?” Sun asked. “Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” Rainbow admitted. “That’s why you need to trust me and give us some space to work it out, okay?”

Sun nodded, if a little reluctantly. “She’s not a bad person, you know.”

“We know,” Sunset said. Just an occasionally infuriating one.

Sun didn’t follow on but allowed Rainbow – trailed by Ciel – to drag Sunset farther and farther away. “Good luck guys!” Sun called, as he receded behind them.

Rainbow paid him no mind. "Do you think Blake trusts you?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question: does she trust you?”

Sunset thought about it for a moment. “I… think so?” she ventured. “It’s weird, but I think that I might be the person she trusts most.”

“Is that so bizarre?” Ciel asked from behind them.

Sunset looked over her shoulder. “Yes, firstly, because she has a boyfriend, and second and more importantly, I don’t even think she likes me. But she does trust me. Or perhaps she just really doesn’t care whether I live or die and wanted someone expendable to help her out.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, don’t discount that second one.”

“Why does it matter to you, anyway?”

Rainbow didn’t reply to that. Instead, she asked, “You were going to fight for her, weren’t you?”

Sunset pouted. “Why do you care?”

“Humour me?”

Sunset snorted. “I wasn’t going to fight. I was going to help her get away from the cops like I helped her get away from you.”

Rainbow winced at the memory. She scratched the back of her head. “I think the cops might have given you worse than a punch to the gut,” she pointed out.

Sunset lifted her head proudly. “I’ve been picked up by the cops more than once since I enrolled in Canterlot; I can handle a night in lockup.”

“But why would you?” Rainbow asked. “You said it yourself: Blake doesn’t even like you.”

“Blake doesn’t like anyone – except maybe Sun – and I get why,” Sunset declared. “She doesn’t have to like me to trust me, and since she does trust me… I hate the fact that I have to leave her hanging.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "You're really not the same Sunset I knew in Canterlot, are you? Back then, you wouldn't have given a damn about any of this."

"Thank you for noticing the change," Sunset growled. "Get to the point."

"We think we have a plan," Ciel said. "A way to get Miss Belladonna out of custody."

"We need to sell it to the general," Rainbow said, "and maybe to Blake herself too. If we offer her a deal, can you get her to take it?"

"What kind of deal?" Sunset asked. "The fact that she'd need to be persuaded to take it makes me nervous."

"I'll explain on the way," Rainbow said. "For now, we need to make a call to the general."

"Wait," Sunset said, unmoving. "This is about getting her to help you against the White Fang, isn’t it?"

"It’s about helping Blake too," Rainbow insisted. "But... yes, it’s also about helping Atlas, stopping the White Fang, and saving Vale. So come on, let's get to it."

Sunset sighed and shook her head. “You know, if Blake does go for this, there’ll be an irony to the fact that it took getting arrested to make her do the sensible thing.”

“Some people,” Ciel declared, “cannot be reasoned with save by the inescapable force of events.”

“So what is your brilliant plan, anyway?”

Ozpin sat in his office and watched the news on his scroll. It was not live, but it was only slightly delayed from when it had taken place.

“A startling development in the saga of the White Fang activity in Vale took place today at Beacon Academy,” Lisa Lavender reported, “when police arrested a first year student, Blake Belladonna, for membership of the White Fang and in connection with the recent robbery of a Schnee Dust Company train loaded with dust.”

Ozpin frowned as the image switched to a shot of Miss Belladonna, bound in aura-suppressing restraints, being walked by the police towards their waiting van in full view of the kingdom’s media. As the reporters showered questions at the silent Miss Belladonna, Ozpin thought that they resembled a mob as much as they did journalists.

The scowl remained on Ozpin’s face as he turned off the broadcast and called First Councillor Aris.

It took but a moment for his image to be projected onto the same screen where the news had been playing just a moment earlier.

“Ozpin,” she said coolly, “in light of recent developments, I’m forced to wonder if you’re slipping.”

“And I am forced to wonder what you were thinking, Madame Councillor,” Ozpin replied, “putting on that little show on my school grounds that way.”

Novo Aris stared at him from the other side of the screen. “My God,” she muttered. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

“Most of my students are too young to arrive with a past,” Ozpin declared. “Miss Belladonna was one of the exceptions.”

“Being a member of the White Fang is more than just having a past,” Novo replied.

“Former member,” Ozpin corrected.

“The White Fang isn’t a country club; you can’t just quit and be done with it.”

“You would know more about country clubs than I, Madame Councillor.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Ozpin, not when you’ve been harbouring a damn terrorist underneath your roof!” Novo snapped. “My daughter was just at your school yesterday!”

“And there was never any danger of Miss Belladonna going on some kind of crazed rampage that put Miss Aris – or any of my students – at risk,” Ozpin said firmly. “I resent the implication that I would have allowed Miss Belladonna to attend Beacon if I thought for a second that she posed any danger to her fellow students.” Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I’ve spoken to her and looked into her eyes,” he said quietly, “and I believe she deserves a chance at redemption.”

Novo inhaled through her nostrils. “The law only grants redemption in exchange for punishment.”

“If you don’t think being a huntress is a punishing path, Madame Councillor, that only shows that you have never tried to walk it,” Ozpin said. “In all likelihood, Miss Belladonna would die in battle long before she would have completed any as-yet hypothetical prison sentence.” He let that hang in the air for a moment before he added, “Besides, there is also the issue of her relationship to the High Chieftain of Menagerie.”

“Menagerie is a small land of little account,” Novo said dismissively. “Vale doesn’t even recognise it as a kingdom! How they feel about this matters much less to me than the fact that I can finally tell the public that we’ve caught at least one terrorist!”

“For how long?” Ozpin whispered. And what will the public say once Miss Shimmer and Miss Dash are done?

“Excuse me?” Novo demanded.

“Nothing, Madame Councillor, just thinking aloud,” Ozpin said calmly. He might have warned her that she was about to be gravely embarrassed by the power of Atlas, but quite frankly, the First Councillor had not endeared herself to him today, and he felt under no obligation to endear himself to her in turn. “Now, I won’t keep you any further, unless there is anything else you wish to say to me?”

“Not at the moment,” Novo declared, “but I hope that there aren’t any more skeletons hiding in Beacon’s closets, Ozpin, or I might be forced to reconsider your future as Headmaster of Beacon.”

“Duly noted,” Ozpin said. “Good day, Madame Councillor.”

“Good day, Ozpin,” Novo said, and her image disappeared, to be replaced mere seconds later by a notification of a call from James.

Ozpin accepted it, and the face of General Ironwood, transmitting from his ship, took the place of the recently departed First Councillor.

"So, it seems that one of your students used to be in the White Fang," Ironwood said.

Ozpin sipped his cocoa as he gazed down at the image of the general's face on his screen. "So it would appear."

"But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“As you knew that I knew from what Miss Dash told you,” Ozpin replied mildly. “To be perfectly frank, I’m a little surprised we haven’t discussed this before.”

"I knew that you trusted her," Ironwood said. "You wouldn't let her into your school if you thought she was dangerous."

"I'm glad to see that you still trust me enough to credit me that much."

"I've never stopped trusting you, Oz; I've only ever wished that you'd extend me the same courtesy," Ironwood replied. "So what do you plan to do now?"

"Well, once Miss Shimmer and Miss Dash have secured Miss Belladonna's release, I believe that I have enough influence with the Council to approve Miss Belladonna's return to attendance at Beacon," Ozpin said. In truth, the real difficulty there would be objections from the more prominent students, like Mister Winchester. His name and reputation carried a lot of weight, but ultimately, the Council answered to the voting public, and they wouldn't risk the wrath of public opinion if it looked to be set too fiercely against him.

It would be interesting to see how Miss Shimmer intended to manage the situation.

James looked both exasperated and secretly amused. "For a man who claims not to be omniscient, you certainly know a great deal."

"In my position, I can hardly afford not to," Ozpin replied. "I must confess, General, that I'm a little surprised. You're putting a great deal of credibility on the line for a former member of the White Fang."

"Rainbow Dash thinks it will be worth it," James said.

"And you trust Miss Dash that much, to wield your influence on your behalf?"

"I do," Ironwood said, without hesitation. "You must trust Miss Belladonna almost as much if you're willing to go against the council for her sake."

"I believe in second chances," Ozpin said. How could he not, when he had required so many second chances of his own?

The interrogation room stank of cigarettes, like the ones that Detective Yuma, Lieutenant Martinez’s partner, was currently smoking, filling the room up with smoke as he did so. It congealed on the table like old gravy, rising over her hands like a tide lapping on the shore.

Detective Yuma, a square-jawed man with a pair of navy blue eyes, took the cigarette out of his mouth long enough to blow in her face. She didn’t cough or splutter, as much as she wanted to. She wanted to avoid showing weakness more.

“You have the right to remain silent, but you may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court; anything you do or say may be given in evidence,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Understand?”

Blake glanced at him. “Yes.”

“Good,” Yuma said. “Now, why don’t you tell us what a White Fang agent is doing at Beacon? You hoping to get close to the Schnee heiress, huh? Kidnap her for ransom?”

“No,” Blake said firmly. “I’m not with the White Fang anymore-”

“But you were,” Martinez interrupted. “For the benefit of the tape, you admit that you were a member of the White Fang?”

Blake’s jaw clenched. “I… I came to Beacon to train to be a huntress.,” she said.

“Why?” Yuma asked. “I’m a bit of an expert on train robberies, and jJudging by that video of you on the train, you’ve got some serious skills already.” He smirked. “Why do you think Deej here needed a huntsman and a full tactical team before she felt brave enough to bring you in?”

“Bite my ass, jerkoff,” Martinez hissed. She scowled, though whether at Yuma, Blake, or at herself for her outburst, Blake couldn’t say.

“Beacon doesn’t train warriors,” Blake explained. “Beacon trains… heroes.”

“Oh, so you think you’re a hero, do you?” Martinez demanded.

“No, I… I’m trying to be a better person,” Blake said.

“Oh, so this is some sort of redemption story?” Martinez asked. She glanced at her partner. “Well, forgive me if I don’t buy it. People don’t change, not like that.”

“Maybe not,” Blake admitted. “But I’d like to try.”

Martinez stared down at her for a moment. Then she sat down upon the edge of the table, perched awkwardly upon it, her body half twisted away from Blake. “You want to be a better person? How about you start by doing the right thing now?”

“Help us by helping yourself,” Yuma added.

Blake’s eyes flickered between them. The lieutenant was a faunus, but… that kind of thinking had gotten her into a lot of trouble in the past.

But what excuse did she have for lying? If the White Fang were on the march, then somebody had to stop them, and it wasn’t going to be her… but then, it probably wasn’t going to be these cops either. They might mean well, they might even be good at their jobs, but that didn’t make them equal to this challenge.

“I don’t want to get anyone hurt unnecessarily,” Blake answeredsaid.

Martinez frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she doesn’t think we can handle ourselves,” Yuma translated.

“Oh, is that right?” Martinez demanded. “Listen here, you little-”

“El-Tee, calm down,” Yuma said.

“No, I am not gonna calm down when I’ve just been insulted by some snot-nose kid straight out of diapers!”

“Do you have children, lieutenant?” Blake asked.

Martinez’s eyes narrowed. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I have two sons. Two human sons. Does that bother you?”

Blake frowned. “Does your husband treat you well?”

“Like a queen.”

“Then it doesn’t bother me,” Blake said, and she meant it too. Rainbow Dash had taught her that faunus could be happy amongst humans and also demonstrated the importance of taking the word of a faunus who said they were happy in their situation instead of assuming that they were suffering the pangs of false consciousness. She continued, “And I won’t be the reason you didn’t come home to your sons by giving you information that will put you in danger.”

Martinez scowled. “Are you trying to get me to beat the crap out of you so that you can scream ‘police brutality’ at trial?”

“Lieutenant,” Yuma chided.

“Because if so, you’re doing a pretty good job!”

“Lieutenant,” Yuma repeated.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly annoying?”

“Yes,” Blake answered.

Yuma rubbed the space between his eyes. “It’s cute that you’re worried about us, kid. And I get it. I don’t plan to be involved in any bust on a White Fang base.” He leaned back in his chair and tucked his hands behind his head. “I am going to sit back at the station letting the tactical teams do all the work.”

Martinez snorted. “Instead of worrying about us, how about you worry about all the felonies that we’re about to throw at you? Armed robbery, membership in an illegal organisation, obstruction of justice for all of our questions you’re refusing to answer.” She stood up. “You in the White Fang-”

“I’m not with the White Fang.”

Martinez ignored her. “-might think that you’re helping solve the problems of race, but as far as I’m concerned, the only problem of race in this kingdom is that people like you won’t shut up about it, so if you don’t start talking and help us out, I will make it my business to dig up everything that you have ever done down to that one time you loitered on private property, and I will pin all of it on you until you won’t get out of prison until you’re a shrunken old hag, do you understand?”

The door into the interrogation room opened, admitting a bald man in a cheap suit. “Detective, Lieutenant, outside.”

The two detectives glanced at one another. Martinez said, “Captain, we’re in the middle of an interrogation.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” said the captain. “You’re done. Outside.”

Martinez frowned. “Captain, is something going on?”

“I’ll tell you outside,” the captain said, calmly but insistently.

Yuma shrugged as he stabbed out his cigarette. Martinez growled wordlessly between clenched teeth. If this was a tactic, she was doing a good job at seeming genuinely annoyed.

They trooped out, and Martinez slammed the door behind them.

Blake waited, alone, and stared at the glass. Were they all behind that window now, watching her, deciding how best to come back and break her?

They could try. Adam hadn’t broken her, and neither would they.

If she’d known anything about possible future attacks, she would have told them; if she’d known anything that would help them save lives, she would have told them. But she didn’t know anything like that, and even if she gave them her entire life story, there was no way they were actually going to talk to a prosecutor on her behalf. Not for a faunus like her.

The door opened. Blake blinked in surprise.

“Sunset?”

Her fellow huntress-in-training walked in, breathed in, and immediately started to look a little green in the face.

“Who set off the smoke machine?” she gasped.

“Sunset, what are you-?” Blake stopped as Rainbow and Ciel followed her inside. “What are you two doing here?” she asked.

“They’re the bad cops; I’m the good cop,” Sunset said, as she lounged against the wall.

“Don’t listen to her; the bad cops just left,” Rainbow said with a slight snigger as she and Ciel sat down opposite Blake. “We’re not cops.”

“Obviously,” Blake said.

Rainbow grinned. “Do you know why those two cops just left the room?”

“No,” Blake replied. “What’s going on?”

“The cops left you alone,” Rainbow said, “because their captain just got a call from the Council’s office, who just got off the phone with the Atlesian consulate, who just spoke to General Ironwood, who placed you under the protection of Atlas for the time being.”

“How long that protection lasts is up to you, for now,” Ciel said.

Blake leaned back in her chair. “Let me guess. You have a way of forcing my hand, so you’re going to make me help you whether I want to or not?”

“You don’t have to help,” Ciel replied. “You can always choose to go to prison.”

“Ciel,” Rainbow said reproachfully.

“It’s true, is it not?” Ciel asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow conceded, “but don’t say it like that.” She placed her hands on the table and swept some of the vestigial smoke away with a wave of her hand. “Tell me about the White Fang.”

Blake scowled. “You’re not cops, but you ask the same questions?”

Rainbow shook her head. “I mean tell me why you joined the White Fang. That night at the docks, I asked why a girl with a stick up her butt about faunus rights quit the White Fang, but I never asked why the Princess of Menagerie joined the White Fang in the first place. I’ve never been to Menagerie, but my parents moved there when my Dad retired. They say it’s a magical place. They also say that folks move to Menagerie; they don’t leave Menagerie. But you did. I want to know why you ran away from paradise and joined a terrorist organisation.”

“Just because it’s paradise doesn’t mean it has what you’re looking for,” Sunset muttered.

“I didn’t join the White Fang; I was born into it,” Blake said. “From the time I could walk, I was going on rallies, marches, peaceful protests, and from the time I was old enough to understand, I could see that it wasn’t working. We marched, my parents made speeches, we delivered petitions to the councils of the Four Kingdoms, and none of it worked! Nothing changed! I wanted justice!”

“Until the killing got too much for you,” Rainbow murmured.

Blake scowled and leaned back in her chair. “Now… I see that all the violence, the bloodshed… it still hasn’t changed a thing.” She closed her eyes. “All that we wanted… all we ever wanted was a chance to live our lives, to choose our own path, the freedom that every human takes for granted. But then we started taking lives, taking that freedom away from people, and now…” Blake looked away, and for a moment, her thoughts flew elsewhere. She remembered sitting at the feet of Sienna Khan and listening to the leader of the White Fang talk about her love of gothic romance, one of the strongest women Blake had ever met recommending books about helpless maidens held hostage in gloomy castles by brooding aristocrats; she thought about Adam, talking about how once the war was won, he meant to found a new city in Anima where all faunus would be welcome. He had promised to build her a house in that new city, a home where they could live together in happiness and peace. Was anything left of either of them now but bitterness and hatred?

“Look at me,” Rainbow said.

Blake turned her head slowly, until she was staring into Rainbow Dash’s magenta eyes.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then another. Then Rainbow glanced at Ciel and nodded.

Ciel said, “Miss Belladonna, have you ever heard of the Legion of the Damned?”

Blake hesitated, the name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. “No.”

“During the Great War, when Mantle had suffered severe losses, it began to be difficult for the kingdom to replenish the ranks of its armies,” Ciel explained. “As a result, the prisoners languishing in Mantle’s jails were given the opportunity to serve their nation: any man willing to take up arms for Mantle would be granted an unconditional pardon for their crimes and allowed to go free once the war ended… if they survived. Though they knew the fighting would be desperate and the risks would be great, nevertheless, thousands jumped at the opportunity for a second chance. They were called the Legion of the Damned.”

“How many of them survived?” Blake asked. It sounded like the kind of unit that would be used as cannon fodder.

“Six-hundred and ninety-three men mustered out at the war’s end,” Ciel said. “As promised, they were given their freedom and allowed to go wherever they wished.”

“Which is more than can be said for the Servian Legions,” Blake said. “I may not have heard of the convicts, but I know that during the Great War, Mantle and Mistral were so desperate for troops that they also offered freedom to any slave – human or faunus – who was willing to fight in their armies.” She snorted. “And then the war ended, and slavery was abolished anyway. Those who had died had done so for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sunset said. “If it hadn’t been for that hard core of Great War veterans, the Faunus would have been screwed, come the Revolution. It was the refusal of the so-called Servian troops to be disarmed and deported that started the revolution in the first place.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Why the history quiz?”

“Like we said,” Rainbow told her. “You’re under the protection of Atlas.”

Ciel pulled out her scroll. “The paperwork was a little rushed, but in order. All you need to do is sign.”

“And then what?”

“And then you join the Atlesian military; like the Legion of the Damned, you fight for us, and we give you a fresh start,” Rainbow said. “You help us stop the White Fang here in Vale, and everything that you did before gets wiped away. No cops, no cell, nothing. You can walk out of here. You can even go back to Beacon if they’ll let you in. All you have to do is help when we ask, and the rest of the time… you’re free to do as you like.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Rainbow said.

“And when that’s done, then what?” Blake said. “Will you want me for something else? If I take this offer, then Atlas owns me, and I don’t get to say when I walk away.”

“You’re not walking anywhere right now,” Rainbow said. “If it helps, I give you my word that I won’t ask you to do anything else other than help defeat the White Fang in Vale.”

“Your word?”

“My word,” Rainbow repeated. “Which I never go back on. Once I make a promise, you can bet I stick to it. So what do you say?”

Blake said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. Yes, they were offering to let her walk out of here a free person, with the threat of law permanently banished from her life… but on the other hand, in order to do it, she would have become a soldier of Atlas, a part of the military that did more than anything else – maybe even more than the Schnee Dust Company – to keep the faunus in their place, to maintain and defend the system of the world that was so stacked against their kind.

And she would have to give up her freedom. No longer would she be free to go where she wished, when she wished. She would be bound to the will of Atlas, to the will of Rainbow Dash until she and Atlas both were done with her.

And only Rainbow Dash’s word – and her assurance that it was her bond – that Atlas would be done with her before she died.

“We’ll give you a minute to think about it,” Rainbow said as she got up. Ciel followed her example, and they both left one after the other. Sunset remained, leaning against the wall, arms folded, not looking at Blake.

“It’s a good offer,” Sunset said.

“Would you take it?” Blake asked.

“I’m not the one looking at prison.”

“That’s what I thought,” Blake said.

Sunset walked towards her. “I’m not going to say that this is the only way to save you, Blake. Because it might not be; I haven’t had a chance to think. But it’s certainly the easiest way.”

Blake looked up at her. “Why do you care about saving me?”

Sunset shrugged and was silent for a moment. “I… I care because you wanted more than the world was willing to give you, and so you tried to take it regardless. I… I admire that. I guess I can relate.” Sunset leaned on the table. “Take the offer.”

“They want my freedom.”

“They want you to do what you wanted to do so badly anyway,” Sunset said. “Stop the White Fang, find out the truth, save Vale.”

“I wanted to do that alone.”

“You wanted to do it with me, but that was never going to work, was it?” Sunset asked. “Two of us, alone, against the whole White Fang? We couldn’t even take out Torchwick and Adam by ourselves. I’ve been telling you since yesterday that we couldn’t do this alone. I’ve been telling you since yesterday to take Rainbow Dash’s help.”

“You didn’t say that I should join the Atlesian military.”

“It’s a paper thing!”

“It’s my name,” Blake said.

Sunset sighed as she straightened up. “They’re going to throw the book at you if you don’t do this. And it’s just what the White Fang want, too.”

Blake cocked her head a little. “You guessed that as well.”

“It seems pretty obvious, doesn’t it?” Sunset asked. “Someone wants you inside a cell, not out on the street. I say you should never give your enemies what they want.”

Blake hesitated.

“Where do you want to be?” Sunset asked. “In a cell, accomplishing nothing while things get worse? Or out on the streets stopping a terrible tragedy from unfolding?”

Blake closed her eyes. Her freedom or her cause? Her principles or her dislike for Atlas?

In the end, there was only one adult choice that she could make.

She nodded her head.

She heard, rather than saw, the door to the interview room open. “Well?” Rainbow asked.

“I’ll do it,” Blake said. “Though I still don’t see why Vale is agreeing to this.”

“Because Atlas desires it,” Ciel said, “and Atlas tends to get what it wants, these days.”

That, Blake reflected, was uncomfortably true. She opened her eyes to see Rainbow smiling at her.

“Congratulations, you’re about to join the greatest fighting force Remnant has ever seen,” Rainbow comforted her. “Trust me, one day, you’ll thank me for this and call it the best day of your life.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Give it time,” Rainbow told her. “Now, let’s get you signed up and get out of here.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Lieutenant Martinez originally derives from Shinzakura's All American Girl, although not having read that my interpretation comes from Spark to Spark, Dust to Dust by Cody Fett and Cyclone, my beta readers.

Other than that there aren't many changes to this chapter, just minor alterations for altered circumstances.

Reception and Reaction (Rewritten)

Reception and Reaction

Ozpin got the impression that if First Councillor Aris had been speaking to him in person, she would have been pacing up and down. As they were talking on a screen, she was forced to remain where he could see her, but nevertheless, he could spot the nervous energy that was consuming her. Her entire body was trembling.

Or that might have been simply a sign of how upset she was.

“This… this is the biggest stab in the back by Atlas since their refusal to help us retake Mountain Glenn!” Novo snarled. “I’m starting to wonder if Aspen isn’t right about Atlas after all.”

“Please, Madame Councillor, let’s not get lost in the weeds of hyperbole,” Ozpin pleaded. “To be frank, and speaking as someone who was there at the time, the Atlesian decision with regard to Mountain Glenn was eminently correct: even if the city could have been retaken, to what end? It had been amply demonstrated that it was unsuitable for further settlement. Any further attempts to reoccupy the territory would have been a waste of manpower, and any attempt to recolonise the city would have been throwing good men after good.”

“We are their ally, Ozpin,” Novo insisted. “What price the special relationship if they won’t support us when we’re counting on them?”

It was Ozpin’s considered opinion that the so-called "special relationship" existed only in the minds of Valish politicians and journalists; in Atlas, it figured not at all. In Atlas, there were those who were only looking for the interests of Atlas and those who took a more high-minded view that encompassed the entire world. No one, or at least no one in any position of authority, saw Vale as being more important than Mistral or even Vacuo.

“I have my disagreements with General Ironwood,” Ozpin said delicately, “and there are certainly areas of Atlesian policy which I find somewhat vexing.” He doubted that anyone else was as vexed by them as he was, but he found the Atlesian tendency to push Atlas students towards the Atlesian Corps of Specialists to be counterproductive at best and dangerous at worst. Huntsmen were supposed to be free to choose their own allegiance without pressure; having them groomed for four years to enlist in the Atlesian military as a better class of soldier was not what he had had in mind when he set up the academy system. “Nevertheless,” Ozpin continued, “I trust the good intentions of General Ironwood. In my experience, Atlas will always do the right thing.” Even if they have to try everything else first.

“I’m not sure how granting diplomatic status to a White Fang terrorist-”

“A former White Fang terrorist,” Ozpin corrected her.

Novo glowered at him from out of the screen. “Once again, you assert that without proof.”

“Miss Belladonna has harmed no one during her time at Beacon, save for genuine White Fang insurgents whom she has resisted with all her might,” Ozpin replied. “Does that not prove something?”

“An argument she could have made in court if the Atlesians had not granted her diplomatic status,” Novo declared. “Why? Why would they humiliate me in this way?”

“I’m sure it was not General Ironwood’s intent,” Ozpin said diplomatically.

“It was the outcome!” Novo snapped. “Our much trumpeted arrest of a terrorist has now backfired completely, and the suspect, whom we took into custody with so much fanfare, is now free to walk the streets under the protection of Atlas!”

“With respect, Madame Councillor-”

“If you’re going to say that this is my fault for making a fuss, I would advise you not to,” Novo growled. “I am not in the mood for anyone to say 'I told you so.'”

“In which case, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ozpin murmured. “Nevertheless, the situation is now what it is. Miss Belladonna’s status places her beyond the reach of Valish law.”

“Why?” Novo demanded. “Why would Atlas do such a thing?”

“I think,” Ozpin said, choosing his words carefully, “that the Atlesians believe that Miss Belladonna can be of use to them in their efforts against the White Fang here in Vale.”

Novo’s eyes narrowed. “You mean… she is their informant?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Hmm,” Novo murmured. “That… yes, I could spin that. We will tell the press that she was always an Atlesian agent within the White Fang, that her cover was blown and that we acted based on incomplete information fed to us from within the White Fang who hoped to punish her for what they perceived to be her betrayal. Do you think the press and public would buy that?”

“I think you have the bones of a fascinating story, Madame Councillor, full of intrigue, espionage, and betrayal,” Ozpin declared, “and the people love a good story.”

“I hope so,” Novo said. She exhaled loudly. “Are you going to let the girl back into your school?”

“If she is a former Atlesian agent whose cover was blown, then how can I not?”

“Very droll, professor.”

“In all seriousness, Madame Councillor, Miss Belladonna completed Initiation successfully and has not committed any offence since arriving at Beacon that would warrant her expulsion.”

“Your students might not feel the same way,” Novo pointed out.

“Without meaning to sound unduly harsh, I don’t poll the students on whether they approve of all their classmates, although I will admit there may be issues with her teammates,” Ozpin replied. “But nothing unmanageable.” He hoped not, at least.

“I see,” Novo said. “Very well, Ozpin. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I, Madame Councillor.”

The elevator ground its way to the top of the tower with what seemed to Sunset to be an agonising slowness. She could hear the cables rattling above her as they bore her up to Professor Ozpin's office.

She wanted to get there quickly. She didn't want to get there at all. There was a part of her that wanted to rage at how terribly slowly this stupid elevator cab was moving; there was another part of her that wanted to push all the buttons so that they'd get there even more slowly, although the fact that she was not alone – that she was accompanied by Rainbow Dash, of all people – meant that that part of her was being quieter than it might otherwise have been. She had a care for her dignity, after all; if Rainbow caught her futzing around with the lift buttons like a kid, then she'd never hear the end of it.

Nevertheless, even a concern for her precious dignity couldn't stop Sunset from visible fidgeting as the lift rose inexorably to the highest height in Beacon Tower.

"Are you nervous?" Rainbow asked.

Sunset couldn't hear any scorn in the other girl's voice, only curiosity, but still, she reacted with a snap as though Rainbow had sneered at her. "No, I'm not nervous! Don't be ridiculous."

A moment of silence descended between the two of them.

"So, what are you nervous about?" Rainbow asked.

"I told you that I wasn't nervous!"

"And I didn't believe you," Rainbow clarified. "So, what's up?"

'What's up'? Seriously? "It doesn't matter."

"Come on, we're both in this together."

"The fact that you can say that reveals the paucity of your understanding."

"Oh, so you think you're running a bigger risk than me, is that it?"

"I think that..." Sunset trailed off. "I said it doesn't matter. You wouldn't understand anyway." She shuffled from side to side and willed the elevator to move faster.

Rainbow snorted derisively. "Why wouldn't I understand? Because I'm not as smart or deep as the great Sunset Shimmer?"

"Because you never had to struggle to be a good person!" Sunset snarled, recoiling as she realised what she'd just said. If I knew a spell that could erase memories or turn back time, I would use them both in a heartbeat.

Rainbow stared at her as though she'd grown another head. "I... huh?"

"I'm about to go to bat in front of Professor Ozpin for a former terrorist," Sunset muttered. The leather of her jacket creased as she folded her arms. "I want to help Blake, but... all I can think of as this damn stupid slow elevator crawls up the shaft is that I'm about to put my credibility on the line for an ex-White Fang... whatever she was. And I know it's selfish, and I know that her problems are much worse than mine and that whether or not anyone still respects me at the end of this is the last thing that I should be worrying about, but this is who I am, okay? You can... you can't ever understand that because you always made being nice look easy. That's one of the many reasons why I never liked you."

"You disliked me specifically?" Rainbow asked. "I always just figured you were just a mean-tempered jerk."

Sunset exhaled loudly. "You were popular when I wasn't, so I couldn't blame everything on me being a faunus, your powers aren't nearly as cool as mine, but everybody fawned all over you; you're cocksure, arrogant, unbelievably annoying, and so... so nice. Like, why did you used to stick up for Fluttershy when you had it worse than she did? How were you so nice? You were a faunus in Atlas, just like me, how did that not fill your stomach with so much rage? How did that... didn't you ever want to scream and shout in the faces of those human friends of yours, didn't ever just want to hurt them the way the world kept hurting us?"

"No," Rainbow said, leaning slightly away from Sunset as though she were suddenly afraid of her. "No, I never wanted to do that."

"Why not?" Sunset demanded. "Why weren't you as pissed as I was?"

"Because things weren't that bad," Rainbow said. "Sure, some people were assholes about my ears, but who cares? I didn't. So long as I had my friends, I didn't need to care what random people thought about me. They were just... air on my face as I flew, you know? I felt them for a moment, and then I left them behind. You know what the difference is between you and me?"

"Do I want to know?"

The elevator shuddered to a halt.

"I don't need other people to tell me how awesome I am," Rainbow answered.

The doors opened before Sunset could form a response – something along the lines of she didn't need to be told that she was great; she just needed her greatness to be appreciated by others, that was all – before they both had to step out of the elevator cab and into the headmaster's spacious tower office.

The gears of the clock ground away above their heads and cast their shadows on the floor.

Professor Ozpin sat enthroned in his seat, silent and inscrutable as the two young huntresses walked in. The only sound apart from the grinding gears were the footfalls of Sunset and Rainbow as they crossed the floor.

Two chairs had been placed in front of the headmaster’s desk – like he’d been expecting the pair of them – but neither of the two girls sat down. Rainbow stood at ease, her feet spread apart and her hands clasped behind her back, and Sunset found herself doing the same, if only to have something to do with her hands.

"Please, Miss Shimmer, Miss Dash, there's no need to stand on ceremony with me," Professor Ozpin said, sounding genial enough. "Sit, both of you."

Sunset took one of the two chairs in front of the headmaster's desk. Rainbow, a moment later, followed suit.

"Now," Professor Ozpin said, "why don't you tell me why you wanted to see me?"

Rainbow said nothing; she had already agreed to let Sunset take the lead on this. As an Atlas student, she would let Sunset make the running and only intervene if necessary or when questioned, so it was Sunset who said, "It's about Blake."

Professor Ozpin nodded sagely. "An unfortunate business. And yet I gather that Miss Belladonna has already been released from police custody."

"Yes, Professor, she has," Sunset said. "Blake has... she's entered into an arrangement with Atlas."

"I see," Professor Ozpin said, leaving his opinion on what he saw unclear. "The terms of said arrangement being what?"

"Service, sir, in exchange for immunity,” Rainbow said softly.

"It means that Blake will be undertaking missions for Atlas for a while, against the White Fang here in Vale," Sunset said. "But when she isn't... we were hoping that she could come back to Beacon."

Professor Ozpin cradled his hands together and rested his elbows upon his desk. "There are some who would find the very idea of what you're suggesting to be absurd, Miss Shimmer."

"Unless any of those people are in this room, I don't see the relevance of their opinion, Professor."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “You have a point, Miss Shimmer. I have no objection to Miss Belladonna returning to school if she wishes to do so. Indeed, it would be a shame to lose such a promising young huntress in training at this stage, and after the two of you have gone to such lengths to secure her release from police custody. You may tell Miss Belladonna that she may return and be welcome. Although…”

“Professor?”

“There is the question of Team Bluebell,” Ozpin said. “It will be difficult for Miss Belladonna to continue leading a team if she is at the beck and call of Atlas. And then there is the question of whether Team Bluebell will want their leader back. You are correct that most of the objections other students might make are of little consequence, but with a team, it is a little different. In order to fight together, there must – or at least should be – absolute trust between teammates. That may be difficult to achieve in this case.”

“Can’t you just order them to suck it up, sir?” Rainbow asked.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “This is not Atlas, Miss Dash; we do things a little differently here.”

Rainbow muttered something about doing things worse, to which Professor Ozpin did not deign to respond.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “If… if Blake can’t be with her team… what place is there for her here?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “Will you please speak to Team Bluebell on Miss Belladonna’s behalf and take their temperature?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Professor… is this some kind of test?”

Professor Ozpin stared blankly at her for a moment. “Whatever would give you that idea, Miss Shimmer?”

“The fact that you want me to do this instead of doing it yourself or asking one of the teachers,” Sunset said.

“Do you object?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I think that this is Blake’s life we’re talking about, not a chance for you to see how I interact with other people,” Sunset snapped.

The professor’s smile broadened. “But who else could I ask who would be as concerned for Miss Belladonna as you, Miss Shimmer? I must say, I’m impressed; you’ve grown a great deal since the year began.”

Sunset coughed into one hand. “I… thank you, Professor. I’ll do it, I just- is there no one else?”

“I think a friend will be better at conveying Miss Belladonna’s merits than a more remote figure of authority,” Professor Ozpin said.

“I see. Very well, Professor,” Sunset said as she got up from her seat. “And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “As of yet, I’ve done absolutely nothing to be thanked for.”

“Professor,” Rainbow said, “do you not need to talk to the Council about this?”

Ozpin smiled. “Oh, did I forget to mention, Miss Dash? I already have.”

“So Blake’s been hiding a pair of cute little kitty ears under the bow the entire time?” Nora asked rhetorically, flopping down onto her bed.

“She did wear it all the time,” Ren pointed out.

“Ren, we all wear the same outfits all the time,” Nora replied.

Ren considered that for a moment. “Fair point,” he conceded.

“Isn’t the fact that she’s a member of the White Fang more important than the fact that she’s a faunus?” Dove asked.

“She used to be a member of the White Fang,” Yang replied.

Nora sat up and looked at Yang from across the dorm room. “You knew!” she cried, pointing at Yang accusingly.

Yang laughed nervously. She scratched the back of her head with one hand, her fingers running through her luxurious blonde hair. “Well… a little, yeah. How do you think I knew to be at the docks last semester?”

“We never found out,” Ren reminded her.

“Because you kept it to yourself,” Nora added.

“I take it that Blake found out about the robbery and asked you to help her stop it?” Ren suggested.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“But how did she know there was going to be a robbery if she is only a former member of the White Fang?” inquired Ren.

“She’s still got a few contacts on the inside, or she did,” Yang admitted. “People like her who aren’t thrilled about what the White Fang is turning into.”

“What is the White Fang turning into?” demanded Dove. “Aren’t they just a pack of thieves and murderers?”

Yang looked at him. “How much did you know about the wider world before you came to Beacon, Dove?”

“Not much,” Dove admitted. “We didn’t get a lot of contact with the outside world.”

“Right,” Yang said. “Well, when we were growing up, the White Fang used to be a peaceful organisation; they used to hold rallies and stuff. It’s only in the last five years or so that they started using violence to try and get their way. Blake could explain they changed, but the point is that Blake saw them getting more and more violent, and so, she saw that it wasn’t for her. So she decided to quit and devote herself to becoming a huntress, just like us.” She grinned. “Just like me and Nora, anyway.”

“I see,” Ren murmured.

“Do you?” Yang replied. “She’s not a bad person, Ren.”

“Has she killed people?” asked Dove.

Yang’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “We’re not close, and we haven’t talked about it. In fact, we haven't talked about it at all because – repeat after me – we’re not close. Maybe, or maybe not.”

Dove balled his hands into fists and rested them upon his knees. “What are Team Bluebell going to do with only three members?”

“Maybe they won’t be a man down for very long,” Yang suggested.

“You mean Professor Ozpin will admit a new student?”

“No, I mean Blake will be back,” Yang explained. “I think Sunset and Rainbow Dash have a plan to… rescue her? Save her? Fix things? They’ve got a plan, anyway, and that’s where they went after Blake was arrested.”

Ren opened up his scroll and, with one finger, opened up an app that seemed to be news related, although Yang didn’t recognise the exact app he was using. “Hmm,” he murmured.

“Well don’t keep us in suspense, Ren!” Nora cried. “What’s going on?”

“Blake has been released,” Ren declared. “According to these reports, she was an Atlesian agent within the White Fang, wrongfully detained by Valish authorities unaware of all the facts.”

“That’s a great cover story,” Nora said. “Really helps everyone save face.”

“You don’t believe it?” asked Dove.

“Yang, did Blake ever mention to you then she was really an Atlas agent?”

“No, but-”

“No, I don’t believe it,” Nora interrupted. “But good news, Dove! Team Bluebell is back up to four members!”

Dove didn’t look very reassured by that. He scowled. “She shouldn’t be allowed back into this school. Huntsmen are supposed to be paragons of virtue and integrity.”

Yang chuckled. “Okay, anyone in this room who thinks that they are flawless, raise their hand.” She didn’t raise her own hand, and nobody thought so highly of themselves as to do so.

“I never said I was flawless,” Dove declared, “but there’s a difference between being flawed and being vile! She joined a violent gang of brigands; the fact that they eventually got too violent for her doesn’t change that.”

“So she was just supposed to smile and take whatever the world dished out to her?” Nora demanded. “Do you think that the violence of the White Fang is worse than what the faunus have to go through every day?”

“I don’t know what the faunus go through,” Dove admitted, “but I know that nothing justifies violence against the innocent.”

“Well, that’s very chivalrous of you, Dove,” Nora said with evident sarcasm, “but the world is full of people who are getting put down all the time, and not all of the people who are putting them mean to do it, but nothing ever changes because of people like you who see any attempt to change anything as bad and wrong just because it upsets people!”

“There’s a difference between upsetting people and killing them!” Dove cried. “And if you can’t see that then maybe you shouldn’t be at Beacon either!”

“Calm down, guys,” Yang said, standing up and casting a shadow over Dove. “We’re not here to debate whether violence for change is justified or not. The point is, Blake’s been let out, and she’s going to be coming back to Beacon. Dove… I know that it doesn’t seem like a very huntsman thing to do, but I really do believe that Blake is trying to make amends for her past. And I think that she deserves a chance to do that. You’re not going to make trouble for her, are you?”

“No,” Dove said at once. “But…”

“But?” Yang asked.

“I wish Lyra and Bon Bon didn’t have to go through this.”

“So she’s not an Atlesian agent?”

“No,” Novo said, her voice echoing out of Cardin’s scroll to strike at his very soul. “Blake Belladonna is nothing more than a White Fang agent.”

“'Is'?” Cardin demanded.

“Professor Ozpin says that she is no longer with them, but he has no proof of that,” Novo said.

“And despite that, he’s still letting her come back to Beacon?” Cardin snapped. “And there’s nothing you can do about it… ma’am,” he added quickly, remembering just who he was talking to.

“Don’t apologise for your temper, Cardin; I share your aggravation,” Novo informed him. “But no, there is nothing I can do. Now that she is under Atlesian protection, I can’t order her arrest, and Professor Ozpin can admit anyone he likes to Beacon.”

“And everything about her having been in Atlesian service-”

“Is just a cover story for the press, to lessen my humiliation,” Novo confessed.

“And so we have a-” Cardin stopped himself from saying something he would regret. Novo Aris’ sister had married a faunus, after all, and she seemed to get on with her niece and nephew as much as Skystar did. As much as Cardin might find it disgraceful that even more faunus were walking the halls of Beacon, the First Councillor probably wouldn’t feel the same way. “And so we have a terrorist in the school. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Skystar’s role as Amity Princess means that she’ll be going up to Beacon not infrequently,” Novo reminded him. “While she’s there, and while that terrorist is there… I’m trusting you to keep my daughter safe.”

“She will be safe, with me.”

“I hope so,” Novo said. “I’m trusting you with what is most precious to me in the whole world, Cardin.”

“You can rely on me, ma’am,” Cardin declared. He’d die before he let anything happen to Skystar.

“Thank you, Cardin,” Novo said. “That’s a load off my mind.” She smiled at him. “Are you still going to come over for dinner this weekend?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, ma’am.”

Novo chuckled. “Good boy; it will be wonderful to see you again. Take care.”

“You too, ma’am,” Cardin said as Novo hung up on him. He shut his scroll with just a little more force than necessary, and then remembered that he needed to use it to open the door into the dorm room, at which point, he opened it – again, just a little too forcefully – and stalked back inside.

“How was the mom-in-law?” Russell asked.

Cardin ignored him. “I can’t believe that they’re letting a terrorist back into this school!”

“A former terrorist,” Weiss corrected him.

Russell grinned. “You two already knew, didn’t you?”

Weiss fixed him with a glare. “Sometimes, Russell, you can be a little too smart for your own good.”

“Or yours,” Russell replied, still with that easy grin on his face like this was all some kind of big joke to him.

“You knew?” Cardin demanded. “Both of you?”

“How do you think Team Sapphire ended up down at the docks fighting the White Fang?” Russell asked. “I may not talk much, but I can put the pieces together.”

Well, when you put it like that, it makes perfect sense. “If you knew, then why didn’t you report this to the authorities?” Cardin demanded. “You should have had Blake arrested long ago.”

“Cardin, you’re overreacting,” Weiss declared, standing up and doing that weird thing she did where she managed to look down on him despite the fact that she was about half his height. “Blake is no longer a member of the White Fang. Yes, I admit, the fact that she had been a member was concerning, at first, but she has promised that she is no longer with them and I believe her.”

“So that’s it?” Cardin yelled. “She says that she’s sorry, and we all have to be okay with this?” He gestured at Flash. “How can you, of all people, be okay with this?”

“Don’t use my father’s name to justify your bigotry, Cardin,” Flash said, quietly but firmly. “Enough people have tried to do that already; I won’t have you be one of them.”

“Sorry,” Cardin grunted. “But after everything the White Fang has done to Atlas and the Schnee Dust Company-”

“Blake isn’t the White Fang,” Weiss said.

“That was her robbing an SDC train,” Cardin pointed out.

Weiss was quiet for a moment. “True,” she conceded. “But I talked to Blake about that, and she had the chance to massacre the crew aboard the train… but she didn’t. She chose to spare them instead. And that was when she left the White Fang; she could have walked away and left them to die, but she didn’t; she saved all of them. That… is not something that I can just ignore. That’s something that I think deserves to be kept in mind before we rush to judgement.”

“She’s broken the law!” Cardin shouted.

“Would that matter so much if she were human?” Flash asked.

“Don’t make this into a race thing.”

“Isn’t it already a race thing with you?” Flash replied.

“Says the guy who broke up with his girlfriend because he couldn’t stand her tail,” Russell pointed out.

“It doesn’t matter whether she’s a faunus or not,” Cardin lied. “She’s still a terrorist, a lawbreaker.”

“Whom the law isn’t punishing,” Flash insisted. “You can agree or not with that decision, but the decision has been made. And if you go outside the law to punish Blake when the law won’t… then you’re no different from the White Fang.”

The hell I’m not, Cardin thought. He wasn’t just going to let this lie. This wasn’t about faunus or human; this wasn’t some stupid feeling of unearned entitlement like his resentment of Sunset or Jaune Arc; this was more than that, bigger than that; this was actually important. Skystar’s safety, the safety of Beacon itself, could be at stake.

He wouldn’t be the only person who felt that way. He couldn’t be the only person who felt that way. He would find others who felt like he did.

And together, they would drive that damned faunus right out of Beacon.

“He knew,” Sunset muttered. “He knew all along, and he just let us witter on regardless.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, 'so'?” Sunset demanded as she and Rainbow descended back down the tower in the elevator that seemed to be moving much faster going down than it had coming back up again. “The headmaster just played us; doesn’t that bother you?”

“It would bother me more if he didn’t know what was going on,” Rainbow replied. “It’s good that he’s on top of things.”

“He’s on top of us, pulling our strings,” Sunset replied. “I don’t trust him.”

“Do you trust anyone?”

“Yes, I trust lots of people, as it happens,” Sunset snapped. “Professor Ozpin just isn’t one of them.”

“Huh,” Rainbow muttered as she looked at her scroll.

“What?” Sunset asked. “And how is your scroll still working in here?”

Rainbow looked up. “Huh? Oh, Twi did some modifications to it; I can get reception even in places like this.”

“Lucky you.”

“Yep.”

“So,” Sunset said, “what’s so interesting?”

“Apparently,” Rainbow said, “Blake was an Atlesian mole in the White Fang all along.”

Sunset couldn’t help but chuckle. “She’s going to love that.”

“Yeah, I don’t plan on letting her live this down for a while,” Rainbow replied. “Or perhaps I should.”

“Why?”

“Because I am going to win that girl over to the side of Atlas,” Rainbow declared.

“Again, why?”

“Because I think she needs a cause to fight for,” Rainbow said. “In fact, scratch that, I know she needs one. I can see it in her eyes. That’s the difference between the two of you, the reason you don’t actually like each other, even though you can trust one another: you can get by just living for yourself, but Blake needs to fight for something bigger. She’s like me that way. I was just… I was just drifting through my life until I met Twilight, but once I got my eyes opened to what I could do for Atlas, once I had something to strive toward…” She grinned. “Well, you know, I became this totally awesome person you see before you now.”

“Humble, too.”

“And I think Blake is the same way,” Rainbow continued. “She needs something to fight for, and I think that thing can be Atlas. It doesn’t have to be, but I hope at least I can show her that we really are the good guys, protecting the world and shielding it from harm.”

“To be honest? I think you’ve got your work cut out if that is what you’re aiming for,” Sunset said.

The smile returned to Rainbow’s face. “You know how much I like a challenge, Sunset.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You’re going to go with me to speak to Team Bluebell, right?”

“Sure.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to let them step out of the elevator and into the tower lobby, where Pyrrha was waiting for them.

“Pyrrha?”

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, a soft smile playing upon her lips. “How did it go up there?”

“Pretty well,” Sunset replied. “Blake can come back; we just need to speak to her teammates about it first.”

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha murmured. “Blake… deserves a second chance.” She hesitated. “It was her you were out with last night, wasn’t it?”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “How did you guess?”

“The fact that you’re helping her now… no offence, but there aren’t that many people outside of the team you’d do this for.”

I don’t know whether to feel praised or insulted. Neither, I suppose, since it’s the truth. “Honestly… I don’t really know why I’m helping her now or why I helped her last night. But since Rainbow did all the hard work, there’s only a little left to do before Blake returns.”

“As I said, I’m glad Blake isn’t suffering unduly.”

They passed through the lobby – charting a slightly winding course between the students and the visitors – out into the open plaza beyond the tower. Sunset shielded her eyes briefly against the sudden return of the light compared to the darkness within the elevator and the dim, blue artificial light within the lobby as she stepped out into the courtyard.

“Sunset!” Sun cried as he ran across the open square, marked with the double-axes of Beacon, towards them. His blue-haired friend Neptune trailed after him. Sun came to a halt in front of her. “Is Blake okay?” he asked. “Where is she? Do the cops still have her?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “She’s on the Valiant until we sort out what’s going to happen to her now.”

“The Valiant?” Sun repeated. “Is that like an Atlas ship or something?”

“Yes, it’s an Atlas ship,” Rainbow replied patiently. “It’s the flagship, safest place in Vale right now.”

“Why is Blake on an Atlas warship?”

“Maybe they’re holding her there so she can’t hurt anyone else?” Neptune suggested.

“Dude, for the last time, Blake’s not a terrorist!” Sun snapped at him.

“But she was,” Neptune insisted.

“Just because you’re lucky enough to have never done anything that you regret doesn’t mean that we’re all so fortunate!” Sunset snarled, making Neptune recoil a step away from her. “Blake’s done things that she regrets. She isn’t the only one. But she’s trying to do better; that’s about all we can do, since we can’t change the things that we did. She’s made mistakes… but just because you’ve been lucky enough to never be in that position doesn’t mean that you can judge.”

Listen to me, I sound like… I don’t even know what I sound like, but… if Princess Celestia could hear me now, what would she think? Ponies believed in forgiveness; they even took it to a fault. Whatever you’d done, no matter how terrible, all your sins would be forgiven so long as you were penitent and appropriately sorrowful. Repentance would wipe away all crimes, and redemption obviate the need for punishment. I always thought that I was different from other ponies, but listen to me now, preaching Equestrian values.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, she saw that Neptune looked mildly ashamed of himself.

Sunset looked at Sun. “Atlas got Blake out of jail. She’s free… but she’s going to have to do some work for Atlas on the side for a while against the White Fang.”

“Pffft, so all she has to do is get back at that Adam guy?” Sun asked. “That’s nothing, Blake was gonna do that anyway.”

Sunset snorted. “I wouldn’t necessarily put it like that to her when you see her again… but you’re not wrong.”

“So when’s she coming back to Beacon?” Sun asked.

“Soon,” Rainbow said. “We just need to talk to her teammates first and make sure they won’t make a fuss.”

“Why would they?” Sun demanded. “Why would anyone object to having Blake back?”

“Yeah, no,” Bon Bon said flatly. “I’m afraid that’s not happening.”

“You barely let us finish!” Rainbow cried.

“I’m sorry-” Bon Bon began.

“Yeah, you really sound sorry, too,” Sunset muttered.

Bon Bon continued as though Sunset hadn’t spoken, “-but we just can’t take her back as though today didn’t happen.”

Rainbow sat down on the vacant bed; Blake’s bed. “Listen, Bon Bon, Lyra, you know me, right?”

“Of course we know you,” Lyra said. “You’re Rainbow Dash, the Ace of Canterlot.”

“Right, and you trust me, don’t you?” Rainbow went on.

“We trust you,” Lyra replied.

“So trust me when I vouch for Blake,” Rainbow said. “She’s kind of clueless, but she’s going to do a lot of good for Vale, maybe for Remnant.”

“Just because we trust you doesn’t mean that we can trust Blake based on your word,” Bon Bon replied. “Blake lied to us.”

“Technically,” Sunset pointed out, “it’s more that she kept secrets.”

“Whatever,” Bon Bon said. “She lied, she didn’t tell us the truth, it all comes to the same thing in the end. We’re supposed to be a team. We’re supposed to be like family, but she didn’t trust us with the truth about her.”

“It’s more than that,” Lyra said. “Blake has never behaved as though she were a part of this team, so why should we show her any loyalty now?”

“Because she needs it.”

“Where was she when we needed her?” Lyra replied. “Where was she when I was struggling with my homework?”

“Oh, boo hoo!” Sunset snapped. “That’s your response? Blake didn’t do your homework for you, so you’re going to cut her loose now? How about I ask where you were when Blake was studying with us in the library?”

“Isn’t that the point?” Sky demanded. “Blake was with you-”

“While you were at the movies!” Sunset cried. “Did you invite Blake?”

A guilty silence settled over the three present members of Team BLBL.

“Dove was the one who invited us,” Lyra murmured.

“Oh, so you’re blaming the guy who isn’t here, very brave of you,” Sunset said derisively.

“That’s not the point,” Bon Bon said sharply.

“The point is that you three are a bunch of hypocrites-”

“The point,” Bon Bon insisted, “is that Blake trusted you before she trusted any of us.”

“She was trying to protect you,” Sunset said.

“That wasn’t her decision to make. Maybe we’re not the best students or the best fighters, but we’re Blake’s team, and she should have had faith in us. But she didn’t.”

“She lied to us,” Lyra said. “We just can’t forgive that.”

“Sometimes, people lie for good reason,” Rainbow said.

“Would you forgive Pinkie if she lied to you?” Lyra replied.

“Pinkie forgave me when I lied to her for years about liking her pies,” Rainbow reminded her.

Lyra blinked. “Oh, yeah, that was a thing, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe we’re just not such good friends as you and this Pinkie,” Sky muttered.

“Something we can agree on,” Sunset growled.

“Blake can’t come back,” Bon Bon said. “Or rather, she can’t come back to this team. We’re not bullies, we don’t have a problem with her being at Beacon, but we don’t want her back on this team.”

“How are you three going to manage without a fourth person on your team?” Rainbow asked.

“We’ll figure something out for now,” Bon Bon said. “Having a fourth teammate we couldn’t trust would be a lot harder.”

The sun was beginning to set beneath the far away horizon by the time that Blake disembarked from the Atlesian airship and began to walk back towards Beacon, escorted by Sunset Shimmer and Rainbow Dash.

The tower loomed above her; the whole school seemed less like a welcoming place and more like a fortress that she had to assault for… for the reason that it was the only place that she had left to go.

Her steps dragged a little; she felt as though weights were burdening down her feet and making her slow and heavy in her progress here… towards whatever was waiting.

Rainbow Dash must have sensed that, because she said, “It’s going to be okay. Nobody’s going to give you any trouble.”

“I doubt that’s entirely true,” Blake murmured.

“Nobody important,” Sunset said. “No one who matters.”

“And if anyone not important does make trouble, we’ve got your back,” Rainbow assured her.

“Because we faunus have to stick together?” Blake guessed.

“I hope not, or we’ve been doing an awful job,” Sunset muttered.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Rainbow said.

Blake looked at her. “Then what is it? Was this really all about getting my help against the White Fang?”

Rainbow shook her head. “Once upon a time,” she said, “there was a punk called Rainbow Dash who didn’t have any prospects, who didn’t have a future, who was never going to amount to anything. And then, one day, another girl, an Atlas princess with all the gifts in the world, held out her hand to me and changed my life so completely that… that anything is possible for me now. I wasn’t born as General Ironwood’s protégé; I wasn’t born with opportunities that most faunus don’t have. I got this way because someone held out their hand to me… and now, I’m holding out a hand to you. Paying it forward, you know?”

“I see,” Blake said softly. She hesitated. “So… my team doesn’t want me back.” They had broken the news to her already, but it was something that she found she kept coming back to, like a dog worrying at an old bone.

Rainbow cringed. “That’s… that’s rough, yeah. But, all the same… no offence, but that’s kind of your fault, a little.”

Blake glanced at her. “Thanks,” she said flatly.

“Look, I said no offence, okay?” Rainbow said. She fell silent for a moment. “You remember the first leadership class that I joined you two for? You remember what I said when Professor Goodwitch asked me what made a good leader? It was General Ironwood who told me that the first step to being a good team leader is to know your team better than their mothers do and love them as much. Everything else, the strategy, tactics, you can learn all that stuff. But if you don’t start by learning to know and love your team, then you’ll never get anywhere.”

“And you do that?” Blake asked.

“I try,” Rainbow said. “I don’t know if I succeed, but… did you try?”

Blake didn’t say anything, the answer was so plain to see that it didn’t need to be vocalised by her or Rainbow Dash or anybody else. She hadn’t ever truly embraced her team; had she ever even tried? She’d envied the bonds that Sunset shared with her teammates, but she hadn’t tried to act on that sense of longing by replicating those bonds with her own teammates. She had shut them out, and as a consequence, they no longer trusted her.

She didn’t blame them for not wanting her back.

She didn’t deserve to be welcomed back. Not to her team, not – she thought as she passed into the spacious courtyard – into Beacon at all.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sunset, the bad influence upon her other shoulder. “I don’t know what Professor Ozpin has in mind for you, but until he makes his mind up, you’re welcome to crash with us.”

“With you?” Blake said. She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Shouldn’t I be staying with you, or at least with the Atlesians?”

“You would look good in an Atlesian uniform,” Rainbow admitted, “but you’re not technically an Atlas student or an Atlas soldier. You’re like… imagine if you were a graduated huntress, and the local Atlas garrison needed your help on account of you had special skills. So they hired you. You’d be working with Atlas, but you wouldn’t be an Atlas soldier. That’s you, only we aren’t paying you – not in anything but freedom, anyway. So keep your Beacon uniform, crash with the Sapphires, and when you do find a billet, it will probably be with another Beacon team. You’ll just be helping us out when we need it. Beacon’s still your home.”

I’m not so sure about that, Blake thought.

“Hey, Blake!” Sun called out to her as he approached. He wasn’t alone either; the three other members of Team SAPR were with him. Nevertheless, it was Sun who was jogging towards her and Sun who reached her first. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” Blake said. “I am back.”

“So,” Jaune said, as he became the next to arrive, “all your problems are taken care of?”

“I wouldn’t say all my problems,” Blake replied. She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Some problems are just beginning. But what you meant… yes, I don’t have anything to fear from the law in Vale any more.”

“That’s good to hear,” Jaune said. “Welcome home.”

“'Home'?” Blake repeated, wondering why everyone had suddenly started saying that.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Whoever we are, wherever we came from, Beacon is our home now for the next four years, and you belong here as much as anyone.”

“Welcome home, Blake,” Pyrrha said.

Sun put his arms around her, drawing her in and squeezing her tight. “Welcome home, Blake.”

“I…” Blake began, then trailed off. “I’m home.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: It's a pity to lose the conversation between Ruby and Weiss, but it wouldn't really have worked any more. Yang plays a smaller role in the story than she did, and Rainbow a slightly bigger one.

A New Semester Begins (New)

A New Semester Begins

Blake stepped lightly into the SAPR dorm room. Sunset had already made it inside, but her hand glowed as, with a light touch of telekinesis, she shut the door behind their guest. The sudden noise of the door closing made Blake start, or start to start, before she mastered herself with an effort that she tried to hide but which Sunset fancied that she caught regardless. Was she frightened? Of a closing door?

Or a man with a red sword. Sunset could understand that, although she wasn’t afraid of Adam here. She was afraid of him when she faced him, as much as she might wish that she were not, but not here.

Here was her sanctum. Here was her home. Here, she had Pyrrha Nikos sleeping one bed over.

Here… well, if Adam got in here, then they were in big trouble, weren’t they?

Still, Blake hadn’t actually jumped; she’d just looked as though she might, so Sunset didn’t say anything about it, and no one else said anything either, if they’d even noticed. Nobody wanted to embarrass Blake, after all.

Some might say that what she’d been through already was embarrassing enough.

Blake glanced down at the camp bed sitting beside the door. The mattress was only about half the size of the ones on the normal beds, if that. “So, this is where I’ll be sleeping?”

“Actually,” Sunset said, and her hand once more acquired the distinctive green glow of her magic as she summoned her stuffed unicorn into her waiting grasp, “that’s where I’ll be sleeping. You can take my bed. I hope you don’t mind me leaving my stuff underneath it. Please don’t touch it.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Blake said softly. “Are you sure about giving me your bed?”

“I’m the team leader,” Sunset replied. “What else can I do?” Any other option – either making Blake take the inadequate bed or else forcing one of her teammates to do so – would make her look like a jackass if it got out, which it almost certainly would. For the sake of her standing and reputation, she had no choice but to be self-sacrificing.

It was hard work, sometimes, trying to make people think well of you.

Blake hesitated for a moment. “Are you… certain?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, more sharply than the situation really called for. “Yes,” she repeated, more softly. “The bed is yours. I’ll manage.”

“Thank you, and thank you all for taking me in,” Blake murmured as she put down her case. After dinner, it had taken most of the rest of the evening to gather all of her stuff out of the BLBL dorm room and pack it up for her to bring here. It had been a process made harder by the way that Bon Bon kept sniffing as she stood there with her arms folded, glaring at them as they worked. It had gotten to the point where one more sniff, and Sunset would have shoved a handkerchief up her nostrils.

But it was done now, just as the day was done, and they wouldn’t have to deal with Team BLBL – or Team LBL, however you might pronounce that – again. Or at least, Sunset hoped not; she’d always thought that Lyra and Bon Bon were a pair of idiots, but she’d also thought that they were basically without malice. She no longer thought that.

So much for the magic of friendship. I wonder what Twilight’s going to say when I tell her about this?

‘Well, Sunset, friends fight all the time; why, I remember when my good friend Fluttershy turned out to be a changeling, but we all forgave her for it, and soon, so will Blake’s teammates.’

Actually, Princess Twilight probably does have a changeling friend. She’s that sort of person.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Jaune said warmly.

“You’re an honorary member of Team Sapphire now,” Ruby added. “Ooh, we should think about integrating you into our team attacks.”

“Let’s not depend on Blake too much,” Sunset said. “We don’t know how long she’ll be with us.”

“Okay, but we could still come up with some paired attacks with Blake, right?” Ruby asked. “Ooh, you and her could be called ‘Dark Phoenix’!”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Why don’t we give Blake a chance to settle in first? Please, make yourself at home.”

Blake looked around a dorm room which, honestly, they hadn’t personalised all that much. They had a couple of lamps – a table lamp shaped like a vase that Pyrrha had brought with her from home and a floor lamp that they had bought in Vale – and a lot of books on the shelves, and of course, there was Sunset’s unicorn, but other than that, the room was pretty bare.

“You’ve certainly done a good job of that,” Blake muttered.

Pyrrha chuckled nervously, looking away as if she was embarrassed by the fact that she didn’t have an enormous quantity of things with which to personalise her living space.

Sunset folded her arms. “Well, after we carved on the walls, we thought that was probably enough making ourselves at home to be getting on with.”

Blake blinked. “You carved on the walls?”

“Yeah,” Ruby cried excitedly. “Come on over here and see,” she gestured eagerly, and Blake smiled fondly as she walked with – Sunset fought the urge to use the term "feline" – grace across the dorm room floor to Ruby’s bed, where the youngest member of the team gestured to the marks that had been made on the white plaster by themselves and by the generation that had preceded them. “You see, it turns out that this room is where my parents’ team used to live when they were at Beacon, and they carved their initials into the wall right there.”

“S T R Q,” Blake read out. She paused for a moment. “Team… Stroke?”

“Stark,” Ruby corrected her. “Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, and Qrow Branwen.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I don’t know who any of those people are,” she said, “but at the same time… it’s comforting to think that we are but one link in a chain of huntsmen and huntresses stretching back to the time of our parents, and beyond that to the founding of Beacon, and which will continue out long after we have left this school… long after we are gone.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said gravely. “We are not the first, nor will we be the last, if fate be kind. The world has been left to us by those who went before; it is our task to leave it to those who will come after, along with a legacy which, if we are fortunate, will inspire them to fight as bravely as we, inspired by those who preceded us, should strive to fight.”

“You’re a morbid bunch, aren’t you?” Sunset muttered.

“I don’t think that’s morbid,” Jaune replied. “I think it’s kinda nice, actually.”

“For myself, I think being reminded that we’re just one amongst many is a pretty gloomy prospect,” Sunset declared. “I suggested that we should make our marks upon the wall so that future generations can-”

“Wonder how you’re supposed to pronounce ‘S A P R’?” Blake suggested, looking over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Sunset snorted. “Marvel in awe at the fact that they are so privileged as to live in a room that was once occupied by the most famous huntsmen ever,” she corrected Blake.

“Hmm,” Blake mused. “Either way, I think it’s a pretty cool thing to do, although I’m a little surprised that you’ve gotten away with defacing school property like that.” She stepped away from Ruby’s bed and turned to look at the books in the shelves above the desks that lined two walls of the room. One of them must have caught her eye, because she stepped closer to Ruby’s desk. “Is that the Song of Olivia?”

“Yep,” Ruby said. “It’s super rare. Dove gave it to me.”

Blake looked at Ruby. “Dove gave it to you? But it’s supposed to be nearly impossible to find copies of it nowadays.”

“I know,” Ruby said, pride and self-consciousness mingling in her voice. “It belonged to his grandfather, he said; he probably shouldn’t have given it to me, but he said… there was something that he wanted to make up for.”

“A princely gift for someone who would appreciate its worth,” Blake murmured. “Whatever he did must have been quite bad to warrant such an apology.”

“Not really,” Ruby admitted. “It… it’s complicated. I probably didn’t deserve it, but… I couldn’t say no.”

“I don’t blame you,” Blake declared. “I probably would have accepted it as well.”

“You know the story too?” Ruby asked.

Blake nodded. “It’s referenced in a number of works on fairy tales and legends, and even summarised in a few, but as you know, very hard to find in its complete form. Tukson couldn’t find a copy anywhere.”

“Why is that?” Jaune asked. “I mean, if it’s such a well known story, then why has it gone out of print?”

“It’s well known, yeah, but it’s also out of fashion,” Ruby said, with a touch of melancholy in her voice. “It’s too long for a fairy tale collection, and nobody seems to read long fairy tales or myths that take more than a few pages like the ones in the school textbook. And the story is… I guess nobody wants stories about heroes anymore.”

“Everyone in here seems to,” Sunset observed dryly.

“Perhaps we are out of fashion also?” Pyrrha suggested.

“That…” Sunset began, and then trailed off because that was pretty inarguable in Pyrrha’s case and certainly could be argued for in Ruby’s. “I think Jaune and I manage to be somewhat modern.”

“Jaune, maybe,” Ruby said. “I’m not so sure about you, though.”

Sunset frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were very at home in my house in Mistral,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“What’s this?” Blake asked.

“Sunset taught me manners when we were staying at Pyrrha’s place over the vacation,” Jaune explained. “Bowing and speaking and stuff.”

“Really? That… is not exactly the behaviour of a modern girl.” Blake observed.

“Okay, now I just feel picked on.” Sunset groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha apologised at once.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little old-fashioned,” Ruby insisted. “The world could use some old-fashioned heroes.”

“Like Olivia?” Blake suggested. “Is that the kind of heroine you’d like to be?”

Ruby shuffled uncomfortably on the floor. “Maybe… kind of. For most of the story, yeah; I know we don’t have a king, but I’d like to travel up and down the kingdom, righting wrongs and fighting monsters and villains. That’s just the life of a huntress. But I’m not sure about the ending, though; I’ve gotta say I don’t think that’s very heroic.”

“Don’t you?” Blake asked in surprise. “From what I know of the story, Olivia’s end is also her most heroic moment.”

“She gets herself killed because she’s an idiot!” Sunset cried. She paused. “Okay, I can see why that would appeal to you.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t glare at me just because I’m right,” Sunset told her.

“Olivia doesn’t perish because she’s an idiot,” Blake explained. “She perishes because she has her pride; I would have thought that you of all people would have seen the value in that. Sometimes, we have to stand up for what we believe in, even if it costs us everything.”

“But there was nothing at stake,” Ruby said. “They weren’t defending anywhere; there was no one in danger. It’s a great fight, but at the same time, it’s just so pointless. When I think of all the other people Olivia could have protected, all the good that she could have done… the ending just makes me sad.”

Blake was silent for a moment. "You're a very selfless person," she murmured. "But, for myself, I don't think that I could ever judge someone who chooses to stand up for what they believe, no matter the cost, and sticks to their principles to the end. We should all hope to be so steadfast."

"Only if we choose the right beliefs," Sunset argued.

"Well… I suppose... that brings us right back to what we think of Olivia's beliefs, doesn't it?" Blake asked.

"I've gotta admit," Jaune said tentatively, "that from what Ruby's told us, Olivia sounds like a really admirable person… until you get to that part."

"Ah, but if you took away her pride, would she still be Olivia?" Blake replied.

"Yes," Sunset said. "She'd be the same Olivia she was before, just better."

"You're that confident that we can separate our flaws from ourselves and still retain everything else that makes us who we are, our virtues and our character?"

"You are not, I take it," Pyrrha said. "Which is a rather Mistralian attitude, I must say."

"My mother was Mistralian," Blake explained. "I mean… she's still alive," she added quickly, lest anyone get the wrong idea from her use of the past tense, "but she moved to Menagerie a few years ago, and before that… my parents moved around a lot when they led the White Fang. And yet… I suppose that she kept the attitudes, and that they rubbed off on me."

"Including that the hero's flaws are part of what makes them a hero," Pyrrha suggested.

Blake smiled. "Exactly," she agreed. She returned her gaze to Ruby and softly added, "Have you read it yet?"

Ruby nodded. "It lives up to its reputation. It's a pity that such a great story has been allowed to die out."

Blake hesitated for a moment. "I know that it was a gift, but… may I read it? It's something that I've heard of, but… to be honest, you haven't done anything to convince me that it's not worth reading."

"Sure," Ruby said. "You can read it if you want." She paused for a moment, before her face lit up eagerly, illumination by a sudden flash of inspiration. "Or you could read it out to us!"

Blake blinked. "You mean… like a bedtime story."

Ruby pouted. "You don't have to make it sound childish," she declared. "I just thought… we've all talked about it; it might be cool if everyone could hear it, and then we could all talk about it actually knowing what happens instead of just what we're told. And without having to pass the book around for everyone to read too! Like a book club or something. What do you guys think?"

Jaune shrugged. "I've got no problem with it. It might be fun, if the story is as good as you say."

"I have no objections," Pyrrha added.

"Nor me," Sunset said, as she sat down on the camp bed. She grinned. "It'll be like being a kid again, when my teacher and I used to sit in front of the fire with hot chocolate while she told me stories." She frowned. "Do you guys want some hot chocolate?"

"It's a good idea, in theory," Blake said softly, "but I'm not sure that I've got a voice for reading stories."

"I wouldn't mind reading," Pyrrha volunteered. "If nobody has any objections."

Nobody did, and so, Jaune ducked out to make hot chocolate for everyone – minus Pyrrha, who didn't want to risk damaging the old and venerable book. While he was out, Pyrrha plucked The Song of Olivia off the shelf and carried it to another bookshelf underneath the window with a surface flat enough to serve as a seat. Pyrrha tucked her scarlet sash underneath her miniskirt and sat down delicately atop the shelf, her legs positioned as though she were riding sidesaddle, while Blake and Ruby sat down side by side on Ruby's bed.

Jaune returned shortly after with the drinks, and no sooner had he distributed them than he, too, was sat on the bed, waiting.

Pyrrha's hands were gentle as she opened up the book, resting it upon her gleaming cuisses. Her lips twitched in the slightest smile, and her voice sounded as gentle as her hands had seemed as she began to read.

"'Once upon a time, in the days of King Charles, whom men called the Great, in a little village to the north, there lived a girl named Olivia. The daughter of a shepherd, Olivia spent her days watching her flock, keeping a weather eye out for wolves or grimm – although men knew that grimm rarely troubled the flocks, a fact for which they were exceedingly grateful. Nevertheless, the village in which Olivia lived sat hard beside a dark and looming forest, a forest which all knew to be the haunt of the creatures of grimm, a place into which few dared venture and from which all feared the grimm might emerge, hungry for bloodshed.

"'Olivia, for her part, was not afraid; she knew what others could not see: that she had it in her to be so much more than just a shepherdess. She would have welcomed an appearance by a beowolf, or even an ursa, for then, she might have proved to her father and to all the world that she was brave enough and strong enough to travel to Vale and join the gallant knights who served King Charles and rode forth across all of Vale to keep the kingdom safe from danger. But Olivia's father mocked her ambitions, telling her that if she ever saw a grimm, she would soon think better of her foolish dreams. And so Olivia watched her flock until, one day, she awoke to find that one sheep had wandered away from the others – and into the grimm-infested forest.

"There was only one thing Olivia could do: she was too kind of heart to abandon any part of her flock to the wilds, and she was too proud to admit to her father either that she had failed to keep watch or that she was scared of the forest or the grimm who lurked within its shadows. And so, with a staff in one hand and a sling in the other, she ventured forth into the woods…"

“May we join you?”

“Cinder,” Sunset said, looking up into the face of Cinder Fall, wearing her black Haven uniform, casting a shadow over the table as she stood nearby. She held a tray in her hand, but there was precious little actually on it: a glass of plain water and a flaky pain au chocolat that looked as light as air and only a little more filling. Three other students, whom Sunset believed to be her teammates, stood a little way behind her.

She smiled. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I should have opened with ‘good morning’ shouldn’t I?” She chuckled. “Good morning, boys and girls, may we join you?”

Sunset glanced at the empty seats on the other side of the table. Blake had joined Team SAPR for breakfast, but none of their usual dining companions – Team YRDN, Team RSPT, not even Team WWSR – were down for breakfast yet to join them. They were all alone on the long table, even as the dining hall filled up around them.

“Be our guest,” she said. Team YRDN would just have to sit a little further down the table than usual.

“Much obliged,” Cinder purred, as she took the seat opposite Sunset at the head of the table. Her teammates took the seats on her left, facing off against the members of Team SAPR.

“So,” said a dark skinned girl with vivid red eyes, who wore her bright green hair in a bowl cut with two long tails descending down to her waist, “you must be Team Sapphire. Cinder’s talked about you a lot.”

“Only good things, I hope,” Jaune ventured.

The green-haired girl smiled at him. “Of course. Nothing but the highest compliments.”

“Always nice to have our reputation spread,” Sunset said. “I’m Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire; this is Ruby Rose-”

“Nice to meet you,” Ruby added.

“Jaune Arc.”

“Hi.”

“And of course, Pyrrha Nikos needs no introduction.”

Pyrrha laughed nervously. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And this is our guest, Blake Belladonna.”

“Hello,” Blake said quietly.

“Of course,” Cinder replied. “You’re the one who… well, we won’t talk about that; you must have suffered quite enough with your time in the Atlesian service.”

Blake made a sort of noise from the back of her throat that gave nothing away.

Cinder chuckled. “In any case, I’m Cinder Fall, leader of Haven’s Team Clementine. These are my teammates,” she gestured to the girl sitting immediately to her left. “Lightning Dust.”

“Yo,” Lightning Dust muttered as she dug into a plate piled high with meat, all slathered under a thick layer of red sauce. She was a muscular pony faunus, with eyes of dark yellow set in a hard-looking face that was not devoid of scars, upon her cheeks and beneath her eye. Her hair was amber streaked with gold, shaved on the sides of her head and worn in a backwards-sloping crest down the middle of her head. Her tail was the same colour as her hair and brushed the floor as it swished side to side as she sat.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Lightning Dust? Did you choose that name yourself? She would have remarked upon it, but this was Cinder’s team, and there was such a thing as courtesy; she wouldn’t allow Cinder to speak ill of her team, and she wouldn’t speak ill of Cinder’s team, either.

“Emerald Sustrai.”

“Hey there.”

“And Mercury Black.”

Mercury smirked. “What’s up, guys?” He was a tall young man, not exactly lithe but not so broad in the shoulders as Lightning Dust, with an untidy mop of silver hair atop his head worn in a very self-consciously cool style that put Sunset a little in mind of Jaune, if Jaune could be bothered to style his hair in the morning instead of letting it flop about all over the place. His eyes – partially hidden beneath his fringe – were grey. His features were sharp, like a knife.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” Ruby greated. “Are you excited about the Vytal Festival?”

“There’s a long way to go before that,” Emerald pointed out.

“There’s a long way to go until the tournament,” Ruby acknowledged, “but what about everything else? All the students from different schools, all the rest of the festival, you being in Vale?”

“Of course, Ruby,” Cinder agreed. “We’re delighted to be here in your fair city, and we fully intend to make the most of our time here.”

“If you ever need someone to show you around the city, I’d be happy to take you into Vale sometime,” Sunset said. “I’m not a native here, but after a whole semester, I know my way around.”

Cinder smiled. “Thank you, Sunset. I think I’ll take you up on that some time. Perhaps this weekend?”

“Sure,” Sunset agreed, “so long as neither of us gets spirited away on some training mission that comes up urgently.”

“Oh, I haven’t signed my team up for training missions,” Cinder declared.

“Really?” Sunset said, her eyebrows rising. “I have to say I’m surprised.”

“Me too,” Ruby agreed. “You were really good out there against the karkadann.”

“You flatter me, Ruby, but the truth is, I did very little out beyond Mistral,” Cinder replied. “It was your team that did all the work and rightly reaped the glory for your accomplishment. I was, for the most part, merely a bystander.”

“You give yourself too little credit,” Pyrrha said. “You were of great assistance.”

Cinder stared at Pyrrha for a moment before answering, “Your praise warms my heart, Pyrrha Nikos, whether I have earned it or no.”

“Why haven’t you signed up for training missions?” Sunset asked. “You can’t tell me that you don’t feel ready; you were prepared to go out and face a grimm beyond Mistral with only Pyrrha to support you.”

“Perhaps the experience chastened me and taught me my limitations.”

Sunset smirked. “I don’t believe that for an instant.”

Cinder stared into Sunset’s for a moment before she chuckled, “Of course not, that idea is quite absurd. No, I’m afraid it’s my team who I don’t think are quite ready for that sort of thing yet. It may be Ozpin’s way to throw his students into the fire and see who burns to ash and who is forged in flame, but Professor Lionheart favours a more gentle, nurturing approach; I think my teammates need a little more seasoning before they face real battle.”

Sunset looked down the line of Cinder’s teammates. She found it hard to agree with Cinder’s rather condescending assessment of her own subordinates. Lightning Dust looked positively mutinous at the assertion that she wasn’t ready for combat, and Mercury looked as though he was struggling to restrain a sneer of contempt.

But Sunset supposed that Cinder knew her own teammates best. All the same, she couldn’t resist saying, “You know you’ll never win the tournament with an attitude like that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Cinder said. “By the time of the tournament, I’ll have everyone seasoned to perfection.”

“Now you make us sound like a steak,” Lightning muttered.

Cinder laughed. “It’s a figure of speech, Lightning, meaning that by the time of the tournament, everything is going to be just the way I want it.”

“Unacceptable!” the shrill voice of Nora Valkyrie turned the heads of all eight students to see Team YRDN approaching the table.

Cinder quirked one eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Ren assured her. “It’s just that you’re sitting in our usual seats.”

“Nothing’s wrong?” Nora demanded. “Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand, but you can’t take my seating arrangements from me you… you Haven interlopers!”

“Calm down, Nora,” Yang said good naturedly, with an undercurrent of humour in her voice.

Cinder started to rise to her feet. “I wouldn’t dream of-”

“It’s fine,” Yang assured her. “Plenty of room to go around, right?” Her eyes flashed momentarily red. “Provided that it only happens this once.”

Cinder stared at Yang with a nonplussed expression. “Was that supposed to be intimidating?”

“Or funny,” Yang admitted. “But, uh, apparently it was neither.” She chuckled uncertainly. “Tough crowd,” she murmured, before walking around the other side of the table to sit down beside Blake. Nora sat down next to her, with Dove and Ren taking the seats opposite Blake and Yang next to Mercury as introductions between Team CLEM and Team YRDN followed.

“Hey, Haven guys,” Yang said. “Did you have a Legends class over at Haven?”

“You mean, did we have to study fairy tales?” Mercury replied. “No, we didn’t.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with fairy tales?” Blake asked calmly.

“He might,” Cinder said, “but don’t mind him. He’s an ignoramus. Those of us with more open minds know that there is a great deal of truth to be gained from the old stories.”

“You mean universal truths about the human condition?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Indeed,” Cinder agreed, “but also more concrete truths, facts buried within the myths. I believe that behind every fairy tale, there was someone to which it really happened, if not just like that, then certainly at least in a somewhat similar way.”

“Really?” Sunset said. “All fairy tales?”

“Why ever not?”

“Some of those stories are pretty far out,” Sunset pointed out.

Cinder chuckled. “That’s what makes it so intriguing to imagine that they might be true.”

“If some of them were true, it would be rather horrifying,” Pyrrha said softly. “At least, that is how I feel. There is so much power in some of those tales, unspeakable quantities of it. Power that we are probably better off without.”

“That might have been true, once,” Cinder conceded, “but not anymore. Now, when men are capable of creating such power as can, well, as can create a fleet of flying fortresses and hang them from the sky like stars set in the firmament, then what is there to fear from a little touch of magic?”

What indeed? Sunset thought. She was proud of her magic, but she wouldn’t pretend that it was anything special compared to the power of an Atlesian warship. She couldn’t swat one of the northern cruisers out of the sky with the power that was in her; she doubted that even Celestia could have achieved as much. They were too big, too well-armoured, and too sturdily-built, and that was without getting into the guns.

“That kind of power can be understood, if only by Atlesian scientists,” Pyrrha said. “What you are describing would be… incomprehensible.”

“Isn’t that part of the fun of imagining?” Cinder replied. She chuckled. “Apparently not. I would have thought that the Champion of Mistral would be more bold.”

“You’ve seen Pyrrha fight; you know that she is fearless in battle,” Sunset declared.

“In battle, yes, you are without fear,” Cinder acknowledged. “In battle, you are confidence itself, but… there are many kinds of…” She trailed off. “Never mind. Suffice it to say that no, we do not have a class of myths and legends at Haven, but I’m eager to see how Beacon approaches the subject.”

“I’m surprised,” Sunset said.

“That I’m eager?”

“That you don’t have anything like this,” Sunset explained. “It’s not just fairy tales; it’s ancient history too. I’d have thought you’d be all about that at Haven.”

Cinder laughed. “Oh, we are taught Mistralian History, from the foundation of the Kingdom by Theseus, but without any of the sprinkling of lore and myth from other kingdoms that I think will make your class much more interesting. Forgive me, Pyrrha, but memorising the long line of your ancestors begins to verge upon the tedious after a while.”

“I don’t blame you,” Pyrrha replied gently. “There are a great many of them.”

“Are you having those classes while you’re here at Beacon, like the Atlesians are having Etiquette classes?” inquired Ruby.

“No, thank gods,” Lightning Dust spat. “And you won’t catch me going into an Etiquette class either.”

“Did somebody say ‘Etiquette Class’?” Ciel inquired, as Team RSPT walked towards the table. “I see that you have unexpected company.”

“This is Team Clementine of Haven,” Sunset announced. “Cinder Fall, Lightning Dust, Emerald Sustrai, Mercury Black. And this is-”

“Team Rosepetal of Atlas,” Rainbow interrupted her. “I’m Rainbow Dash, the team leader, and these are my teammates: Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle.”

“Good morning,” Ciel said.

“Hello!” Penny cried cheerfully, giving a wave with one hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Twilight added.

Lightning Dust stared at Rainbow Dash. “You’re a faunus,” she observed.

“So are you,” Rainbow said, with equal astuteness.

“Yeah, but they made you team leader.”

Rainbow smirked. “I don’t like to brag-”

Sunset snorted.

Rainbow ignored her to continue on “-but I am kind of awesome.”

“Hmm,” Lightning mused.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Cinder muttered dryly.

Team RSPT took their seats, and the conversation meandered largely aimlessly as more and more students came into the dining hall. They talked about what the day and the week might bring, whether Team RSPT had signed up for field missions – they had – and what kind of missions the three teams that had actually signed up for field missions might like.

“If there are any missions available out in the regions, I might like that,” Ren said. “Assisting with village security in some way, especially with the grimm threat so… unusually prevalent at the moment. Such places need help more than most.”

“Those kinds of places mostly manage not to attract the grimm,” Dove replied.

“Mostly,” Ren declared. “Not always.”

Dove was quiet for a moment, before he nodded. “True,” he said quietly.

“Personally, I’m hoping for something a little more grandiose,” Sunset said. “Another dangerous grimm hunt perhaps.”

“I would rather a singularly dangerous grimm did not approach Vale simply so that we can hunt it,” Pyrrha replied.

“Hey, Blake,” Rainbow said. “Are you going to come to Etiquette class?”

Blake looked at her across the table. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Ah, come on!” Rainbow cried. “It’ll be… okay it won’t be fun, but you’ll get something out of it.”

“Really?” Blake replied sceptically. “Such as?”

“Such as…” Rainbow trailed off. “You’ll know how to behave if you find yourself in Atlas and have to go to a fancy party.”

“You’ve never been to any of the fancy parties I’ve invited you to,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, but if I ever did, I’d know how to act,” Rainbow told her.

“I don’t think I’m ever likely to find myself in Atlas,” Blake said.

“Never say never,” Rainbow said.

“Why do you want me to come to your Etiquette class so much?” Blake asked.

“Because I think it will be good for you,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “And because if I have to suffer through it, so should you.”

Blake shook her head, and the conversation flowed on like a river rushing towards the sea.

The dining hall filled up as they spoke of trivialities, and as it filled up – as more and more people passed their table – so more and more of those people glanced at Blake with a mixture of curiosity or naked hostility. The other three members of Team BLBL – Sunset was going to have to get used to thinking of them as Team LBL and trying to find a way to pronounce it in her head – very pointedly did not look at Blake, but in a way that drew attention to her nonetheless. Blake’s eyes followed them as they walked ostentatiously to a different table. Dove’s gaze followed them too, but only Blake’s ears drooped unhappily as they sat down.

Blake’s ears continued to droop, and she started bowing her head too, as the curious, nervous, almost frightened gazes kept coming, as they mingled with the hostile stares, as the whispers of ‘White Fang’ and ‘don’t believe that she was a spy’ and ‘can’t believe they let an animal like her’ passed by, thrown out like grenades by the students as they walked on to their seats. Nobody said anything to Blake; nobody wanted to draw attention to her plight and position any more than they had to, but in spite of game attempts to keep the conversation going to distract her, there was no getting away from the fact that – face-saving Valish cover story notwithstanding – she had become an object of fear for some and hatred for others. Rare it seemed was the student who did not have some opinion upon the presence at Beacon of Blake Belladonna of the White Fang.

Or perhaps they just noticed the ones who had an opinion more than those who did not.

Ruby was the first one to actually dare draw attention to the goliath in the room as she placed one hand on Blake’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Blake,” she said. “In a couple of weeks, everyone will have forgotten all about this.”

Blake glanced at her, an indulgent smile upon her face. “I know you mean well, Ruby, but I didn’t spill punch all over myself at the dance; people found out who… what I really was. That isn’t something that people will just forget about when something new comes along. This… is something that I’ll have to live with.” Blake looked away from Ruby, looking down at her breakfast where it sat, half-eaten, in front of her.

A commotion from the cafeteria doorway drew the attention of Sunset. Team WWSR had just collected their breakfasts and were now embroiled in a dispute of some description.

It didn’t take Sunset very long to work out what the source of the dispute was.

Cardin was holding his breakfast tray in one hand, gesturing aggressively towards Blake, who had – unfortunately – noticed it by now. Cardin was also saying something, although thankfully, he was too far away for any of them to hear it. Weiss was replying, seeming to be most put out, and Flash chipped in with his own opinions on the matter.

Probably backing Cardin up in talking all manner of slanders about Blake; that seems about his style, Sunset thought. He wouldn’t stand up for me; why would he stand up for her?

Russel, as was his wont, said very little.

Whatever was passing between the members of Team WWSR, it ended with Cardin stomping off on his own to sit with the Blake-less Bluebells, while Weiss, Russel, and – strangely – Flash walked towards the table occupied by SAPR, CLEM, RSPT, YRDN… and Blake.

Blake did not exactly look pleased to see them.

Her chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes closed and then screwed tight shut. She placed her hands heavily on the table as she lurched to her feet, letting her tray sit there in front of her as she murmured, “Excuse me.” She stepped back and began to walk away with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances.

The tattered shreds of her dignity did not survive even to the way out of the hall. She had started running even before she made it through the doors.

“I’ll call Sun,” Rainbow said.

What does Sun know about being in this situation? Sunset wondered as she got to her feet and began to run after Blake, pushing Flash out of the way – and over onto his ass, his tray hit the ground with a clatter beside him – as she pursued the other girl out of the hall and into the courtyard.

“Blake, wait!” Sunset called, the sound of her voice bringing Blake to a halt. She did not turn around. She stood under the shadow of the huntsman statue, her head bowed, her left hand clasping her right elbow.

“You can’t let them win,” Sunset told her when Blake did not turn around. “You can’t let them grind you down.”

Blake turned around, her ears still drooped as she fixed her golden eyes on Sunset. “Sunset… you don’t know what I’m going through.”

“I understand what it’s like to be the outcast,” Sunset replied. “I understand what it’s like to feel like the whole world is against you.”

Blake laughed bitterly. “That isn’t a new feeling for me; I’ve felt like that for half my life.”

“Then how is it that it never made you angry?” Sunset asked.

Blake was silent for a moment. “Because I’ve seen what anger does to a man; I want no part in that.”

Sunset had no need to ask who she was referring to. She could barely keep herself from shuddering at the memory of that glowing sword, as red as blood, the memory of that face. It was all she could do not to put one hand upon her face to check there was no brand upon it.

I need to talk to Weiss about that.

“You’re not him,” she said quietly.

“No,” Blake acknowledged. “What enrages him… it merely saddens me.”

“'Merely'?”

Blake shrugged. “It’s just a word.”

“And you are someone who chooses their words with care.”

Blake shook her head. “What do you want, Sunset?”

“I… I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “What do you need?”

“What do I need?” Blake repeated. She sighed. “Even if I knew where to begin, the things I would begin with are not in your power to grant.”

“Well, yes, I was hoping for something a bit smaller scale than ‘equal rights,’” Sunset said.

Blake chuckled. “I need… I would like… for what Ruby said to be true. I’d like to believe that there will come a time when everyone will just… not care anymore.”

“Maybe there will,” Sunset suggested. “Ruby… is young, and too good and brave for her own good, and yet… she’s sometimes smarter than we are. Maybe she’s right about this too. But until then, keep your chin up. Like you said, pride is the thing that we have left when everything else has been taken from us.”

“Thank you for reminding me that everything else has been taken from me,” Blake muttered.

“I didn’t-” Sunset stopped, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She pouted petulantly. “You’ve still got us,” she pointed out.

“Then I don’t need my pride yet, do I?”

“Well, now you’re just being contrary, aren’t you?”

The corner of Blake’s lip twitched upwards ever so slightly. “How did you do it?”

Sunset blinked. “Do what?”

“Survive a school where everyone hated you.”

“Not everyone hates you.”

“Close enough, don’t you think?” Blake asked.

Sunset knew that Blake didn’t want a discussion on how many students precisely held her in some form of fear or contempt compared with the numbers that did not, and so she conceded Blake’s point, at least for now. “You don’t want to know how I survived,” she said. And I don’t want you to know what I did to make them hate me.

Blake stared into Sunset’s eyes. “No, I suppose I don’t,” she agreed, her tone barely audible.

I wish I could make them stop, Sunset felt like saying. I wish that I could make them stop staring at you, even if I had to scare them into it. But she couldn’t, so what would be the point in saying it? Instead, she said, “You are a better person than those who stare and scowl at you.”

“None of them have broken the law,” Blake pointed out.

“And none of them are a pain in my ass like you are, but that doesn’t make them better than you.”

“The fact that I annoy you makes me better than them?”

“The fact that you believe in something makes you better than them,” Sunset explained. “You’re like Ruby; you’ve got something… something driving you. Conviction. It drives me nuts, and it scares the crap out of me sometimes, but at the same time… it’s kind of glorious.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I… I would rather work with you than the Atlesians,” she whispered.

Sunset folded her arms. “Speak for yourself; I’m glad to be through with you.”

Blake’s lips twitched once again. “Thank you,” she said, her voice rising by a tiny amount.

“I haven’t done anything,” Sunset reminded her.

“I know, but… thank you,” she repeated.

“Blake!” Sun yelled, vaulting over the huntsman statue – and over Blake’s head – to land on his hands before rolling to a stop a few steps away. His tail wrapped around his waist like a belt. “Is everything okay?”

Blake was quiet for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “But… it’s not too bad, either.”

“Really?” Sun asked, sounding surprised to hear it. “But, Rainbow texted me and she said that-”

“I can guess what she told you,” Blake said, before he could repeat it – and force her to relive it, “but it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay if it’s not,” Sun said, his voice gentle as he walked towards her, holding out his arms. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Blake allowed his arms to close around her, her eyes closing as he rested her head against his chest. Sun held her that way, for a little while, as his tail snaked up towards her and gently began to tickle her nose.

Blake started to giggle like a much younger girl. “Sun, stop,” she cried, in mock exasperation.

“Don’t look at me,” Sun replied. “Sometimes, this guy just moves on his own.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s a real pain when I’m trying to hang out, you know.”

Blake covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. “You didn’t have to rush over here because you heard I was in trouble,” she informed him. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to,” Sun accepted. “But I always will.” His stomach growled, rather disturbing the scene. “So,” he continued, “did you get a chance to finish eating before… you know?”

“I kind of lost my appetite,” Blake admitted.

“We could always go to Benni’s?” Sun suggested. “My treat?”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Your treat?”

Sun shifted uncomfortably. “Neptune’s treat,” he admitted. “But he won’t mind.”

Blake was quiet for a moment. “Okay,” she murmured. “That… sounds nice.”

Sunset watched as Sun steered her away, one arm around her shoulders. Sunset’s tail twitched as she fought to control her envy. It was nice, having somebody like that, somebody you could rely on, somebody who would take your side against the world.

Blake… she hadn’t lost everything while she still had him.

I wish I still had a blue-eyed fool to take my side, no matter how right or wrong I was.

“You didn’t get an invitation, I take it?”

Sunset glanced over her shoulder. Cinder stood a few feet behind her, hands clasped behind her back.

“You assume I want one,” Sunset replied.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” Cinder conceded. She started to walk, not towards Sunset but around her, circling her, passing close to the statue and then beyond it to come around on Sunset’s other side. “There are some who don’t believe that she used to be an Atlesian agent.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

Cinder chuckled. “It’s not true, is it?” she asked. “She really did use to be a member of the White Fang.”

“You can’t expect me to answer that.”

Cinder’s circle took her behind Sunset, forcing the latter to look over her shoulder once again. “I suppose not, although some might say that you just did.”

Sunset frowned. I suppose I did walk into that a little bit.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Cinder continued as her circular path brought around Sunset and in front of her once more. Her glass slippers chinked lightly against the stone. “The truth is that, if she really was a member of the White Fang… I could sympathise.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Cinder stopped, looking up at one of the Atlesian cruisers that hung suspended in the sky overhead. A flight of one of their numerous kinds of combat airships flew past, banking hard to the right as they turned over the Emerald Forest. “They’re really beautiful, aren’t they?”

Sunset studied the Atlesian man-of-war. “I… I can’t say I agree with you, I’m afraid.”

Cinder chuckled. “I admit that, from an aesthetic standpoint, they have their faults, but all the same… when you look at those ships up above, what do you see?”

Sunset considered the cruiser a little longer. “Power,” she said.

“Yes!” Cinder cried, wheeling around to face Sunset. “Atlesian power, the might of Atlas rendered in steel.” She resumed her circling. “The power that the Atlesians hold, the power that they flaunt, the power that they deny to others. The power that they especially deny to the faunus,” she added, as she came up on Sunset’s right. “If the faunus choose to try and grasp the power that is denied to them, then who am I to judge them for that?”

“The White Fang are not the faunus,” Sunset said firmly and with a touch of sharpness in her voice, “and you don’t know what it’s like to be a faunus.”

Cinder did not reply to that, not at first. She hummed tunelessly under her breath as she completed a full circumference around Sunset, ending up in front of her, roughly where Blake had been standing until not long ago. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t. But I think I was just given a first-hand demonstration of what it’s like to be a faunus and of what drives so many of them to take up arms with the White Fang.” She paused. “What happened to your friend was not right,” she added. “Nobody should be punished for trying to better themselves, for trying to become strong. After all, isn’t that why we’re all here? To learn how to become strong?”

“Speak for yourself; I’m strong enough already,” Sunset declared, folding her arms. “I’m here to learn how to become great.”

“A worthy ambition,” Cinder conceded. “And yet…” She approached Sunset, and when she resumed walking around her, she was closer this time, close enough to brush her fingers lightly against Sunset’s shoulders. “You weren’t strong enough to protect Blake, were you?”

Sunset’s ears flattened against the top of her head. “No,” she admitted through gritted teeth. “I wish that I could stop all of this, but-”

“But what if you could?” Cinder asked, coming to stand right in front of Sunset.

Her eyes were like fire. Mesmerising. Sunset couldn’t look away from them. “What do you mean?”

“What if you could stop them?” Cinder repeated. “What if you could snatch the hurtful words right out of their mouths? What if you could make them pay for their cruelty and their callousness, for thinking so much of themselves and so little of those beneath them? What if we could make them pay?”

“We?” Sunset said. “Why would you want anything to do with this?”

“I’m willing to help you,” Cinder replied. “In a good cause, of course.” She smirked. “So… what’s it going to be?”

New Rivals (New)

New Rivals

“So… what’s it going to be?”

The words of Cinder Fall reverberated in Sunset’s mind like the tolling of a bell. They echoed over and over again. She hadn’t answered, not yet, but with Cinder sitting beside her in Legends class, she could hardly forget about them. It was as tight a squeeze in Doctor Oobleck’s lecture hall as it had been in Professor Port’s class yesterday, and Sunset could feel Cinder’s shoulder pressed against her own.

Just like she could see Blake being given a wide berth by everyone around her. Okay, not everyone – Sun was sat beside her, and Team RSPT were arrayed protectively around them both, with Rainbow Dash looking as though she would have liked to have turned her glares into laser eyes – but most people, in spite of the crowding it was causing elsewhere.

“So… what’s it going to be?”

Sunset frowned. She could think about just how badly she wanted to help Blake later. Later, she could also give some careful thought to just why she might want to help Blake; really, what had Blake ever done for Sunset but drag her into danger? Sunset ought to just cut her loose. It wasn’t as though they were friends. Just because Sunset saw a bit of herself in Blake, and more of people worth admiring, that was no reason to put herself out on the other girl’s behalf, was it? She could think about what Cinder might propose they do to help Blake later. For now, she really ought to concentrate on class.

Doctor Oobleck was currently zipping from one end of the classroom to the other, sipping his coffee as he did so. “Now, as you have all been informed, this semester will see all of you given the opportunity to undertake field missions in and around Vale. This will, of course, see you absent from classes for significant periods of time, and although you can and will be expected to catch up on the work that you’ve missed, it would be naïve to expect there to be no repercussions from extended loss of classroom time. It is for that reason that this semester’s studies will place a greater emphasis on your own research outside the classroom. For example: students will break up into pairs and each choose a single fairy tale or myth to research and prepare a paper on, before presenting back to the class at the end of four weeks.”

Ruby raised her hand.

Doctor Oobleck stopped, gesturing at her with his stick. “Yes, Miss Rose?”

“Does it have to be one of the fairy tales we’ve studied in class?” Ruby asked.

“Not necessarily,” Doctor Oobleck replied. “If you have a childhood favourite that you believe you can present in an academic manner, that is perfectly acceptable, although your presentation should take account of the fact that not everyone in the class will be familiar with your choice. However, before you take that step, please be aware that I will not accept ambition or an unusual choice as an excuse for poor performance.”

Sunset winced. She had led Ruby into that trap once before, in Doctor Oobleck’s history class; during a study session they had prepared an unusual approach to their Modern History paper, only for Ruby and Jaune to get dinged by Doctor Oobleck because they didn’t have sufficient factual grasp of the material to justify it.

“Now, one additional detail,” Doctor Oobleck continued. “In order to promote unity between students – and because as huntsmen in the field, you may find yourself forced to work with someone who is not of you choosing – I have chosen all the pairs from outside of existing teams.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. "Outside of existing teams"? But that means I’ll get stuck working with someone I don’t like!

I know that’s the point, but it doesn’t make it any less unfair!

Doctor Oobleck zoomed back to his desk and picked up his scroll. “The pairings I have selected are: Jaune Arc and Dove Bronzewing,”

“Uh, okay then,” Jaune murmured.

Doctor Oobleck continued, “Arslan Altan and Nora Valkyrie; Blake Belladonna and Pyrrha Nikos…”

Blake looked over her shoulder and across the lecture theatre to where Team SAPR sat. Pyrrha gave her a gentle smile of reassurance.

Doctor Oobleck continued through the early letters of the alphabet; Sunset listened with half an ear as she did so, until he announced, “Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset glanced at Cinder, only to find that the other girl was smiling at her.

“Lucky you,” Cinder purred.

Sunset grinned. Someone I can actually work with. Lucky me indeed.

In fact, with Ruby being paired with Rainbow Dash, it had to be admitted that the entire team had gotten quite lucky in their partnerships. Team RSPT was less fortunate; Rainbow herself aside, Twilight was assigned to work with Neptune Vasilias, Ciel with Yang, and Penny with Cardin Winchester of all people. Sunset did not envy her one little bit.

Especially when she had such a satisfactory-seeming partner by contrast.

Doctor Oobleck spent the rest of the class explaining in more detail the parameters of the coursework, as well as talking through an example of work done by past years so that they could get an idea of what they should be aiming to produce. All very useful, but not particularly worth remarking on.

When Legends was done, it was time for Combat with Professor Goodwitch, and all of the students spilled out of the lecture theatre and out into the corridors as they moved in a great herd towards the exit and, beyond that, the amphitheatre.

Team RSPT – and Blake and Sun – got out of the classroom first but allowed the flow of students to pass by for a while so that Team SAPR could catch up.

“So, Blake,” Pyrrha said, “it looks like we’re going to be partners.”

Blake nodded. “Yes, it does. Although it feels like cheating, considering that we’re in the same dorm room. It seems that Doctor Oobleck stretched the definition of ‘on different teams’ a little far in my case.”

“Well… perhaps,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I’m glad he did.”

Blake hesitated for a moment before she nodded. “I am too.”

“Hey, Ruby,” Rainbow said, “do you like fairy tales?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I like them.”

“That’s good, at least one of us does.”

“You don’t?” Ruby asked, her tone almost – but not quite – aghast.

“Eh,” Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t mind them, I just… I don’t get this class; it’s all kids’ stuff, isn’t it?”

“'When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so,'” Ciel declared. “'Now I am fifty, I read them openly. When I became a man, I put aside childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.'”

Rainbow looked at her askance. “Who said that?”

“Professor Ozpin,” Ciel said. “In his essay On Fairy Tales; no doubt that is why he instituted this class.”

“Yeah, well…” Rainbow muttered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly. “Anyway, it’ll be nice to work with you, Ruby.”

“You too,” Ruby said, with a little less enthusiasm.

“If I may ask, Ruby,” Ciel said as they made their way towards the amphitheatre, “what is your sister like to work with?”

“I… actually don’t know,” Ruby admitted. “We’re not on the same team, and she was two years ahead of me at Signal… but she seems to get good grades!”

“I hope so,” Ciel said, in an even tone.

“Hey, Penny, if that Cardin guy gives you any trouble, just tell me, and I’ll take care of it,” Rainbow instructed her.

“What kind of trouble might he give me?”

“I don’t know… just tell me anything,” Rainbow told her. “The same for you, Twilight.”

“Hey, don’t worry about Neptune,” Sun said. “He’s a great guy.”

“I think it’s good that some of us have been assigned partners outside of our friends,” Twilight insisted. “After all, the Vytal Festival is about forging bonds across schools and kingdoms, and we all know each other pretty well already.”

“I don’t know; we haven’t had a chance to talk much, have we, Ruby?” Rainbow asked.

“No, I guess we haven’t,” Ruby acknowledged.

“Speaking for myself,” Cinder breathed into Sunset’s ear, “I’m quite glad that I wasn’t paired with a complete stranger.”

“No, you were paired with a passing acquaintance,” Sunset replied.

Cinder chuckled. “For now, perhaps, but we’re going to have a lot of fun together, you and me, I can feel it.”

After History came Etiquette, otherwise known as a free period for anyone who was neither an Atlas student nor interested in the proper way to fold napkins.

Sunset was not entirely sure why she was here. It wasn't as though she had any particular need to master the social graces; her Equestrian manners had served her well enough in Mistral, after all. But she could not deny that there was a part of her that missed the days when she had been the pony everypony should know, when she had dazzled whole rooms with her looks, talent, and closeness to the princess. In the same way, she could not deny that it might be nice to have that again, and if she achieved her ambitions and was rewarded with the great acclaim she sought, then it might be as well for her to know how humans behaved in the highest circles.

The class was held in one of the full-sized lecture theatres, and while it was by no means empty, it was, at the same time, not nearly as full as Grimm Studies or Modern History had been. All of the Atlas students were there, more than a few looking as though they were here under duress, but there were also a few more students from the other three academies than Sunset had expected. As she, Jaune, and Pyrrha – Ruby had not joined them, declaring her intent to get in some training with Yang instead – found seats near the front, Sunset looked around and saw a number of familiar faces; the presence of Weiss and Flash was not too surprising, but Sunset was a little surprised to see Dove as the sole representative of Team YRDN; he was sitting next to Lyra and Bon Bon. Sunset was a little disappointed to not see Cinder here and more than a little surprised to see Sun sitting up near the back, accompanied by Neptune with a long-suffering expression on his face. And then there was Blake, looking a little wary as she walked in with Team RSPT, as though she was afraid that this would all turn out to be a trap set for her. No sooner had she caught sight of Team SAPR – minus, of course, the R – than she headed over to them.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked, anxiety clear in her tone.

"Of course not," Pyrrha said, gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

Blake smiled gratefully and took the seat on Pyrrha's left; the members of Team RSPT not named Ciel took the seats on Blake's left, sandwiching the princess of Menagerie between the two teams into whose joint custody she seemed to have fallen.

Ciel herself stood in front of the class, seeming without a trace of self-consciousness in the face of all the eyes upon her. In fact, watching her stand at east with her hands clasped behind her back, staring straight ahead, one could have been forgiven for thinking she was not aware of the presence of an audience at all.

There was no sign of their instructor as the last few students filed in.

It would be a fine thing if the person supposed to be teaching us how to behave arrived late, wouldn't it?

At precisely the minute the class was due to begin, a tall upperclassman, his skin the same shade as that of Ciel, with red hair close-cropped to the sides of his head, strode confidently into the classroom.

"Good morning," he said, his dark eyes sweeping across the lecture hall as he came to stand beside Ciel, adopting without looking at her the exact same posture. "My name is Marcus Thackeray, and I am the leader of Team Magnolia; with the assistance of Miss Soleil," he gestured to Ciel, "I will be running these etiquette classes for first-year students during the semester here at Beacon. For those of you who are not from Atlas, you are welcome here, and I hope that you all get something out of it. Now, to begin: Miss Soleil, would you mind leaving the room and then showing the class how to come back in."

Sunset wasn't entirely sure what she had expected from an Atlesian Etiquette class, but she had not expected the class to start off with how to walk into a room. Not that it was a bad lesson – it was about politesse, yes, but it was also about confidence, and as far as Sunset was concerned, both Jaune and Pyrrha could use a little more of that in the way they moved, to say nothing of Blake – but it was unexpected nonetheless. Certainly, it was never something that Princess Celestia had felt the need to teach Sunset, but then, Princess Celestia's relationship with courtly manners and etiquette had always been… begrudging, to put it politely, even if she concealed that fact from the untutored eye.

Sunset considered that she had taught herself to move with confidence and grace pretty well, and although she was a little less than pleased to be told – by Ciel, no less – that she moved with a smidgeon too much confidence and a pinch too little grace, nevertheless, she accomplished the aim of the class more swiftly than some, which meant that she got to spend a fair amount of time watching everyone else struggle with things that she had already mastered. Something Sunset had always enjoyed, ever since she was a filly.

Though possibly I shouldn't.

After Etiquette came combat class, and Ruby and Cinder and a great many other students who had taken advantage of the chance at a free period rejoined the throng. They made their way across the courtyard to the amphitheatre, where Teams SAPR and RSPT split off from the rest of the group and headed towards different locker rooms to the rest of the first years.

“You’re not coming?” Cinder asked.

“Nah,” Sunset said, turning around to face her. “We get our own locker rooms all to ourselves because we’re so awesome.”

“It’s because Ruby’s a little young to be getting change in front of all the other students,” Jaune pointed out.

Sunset spluttered. “Yeah, well, it’s also because we’re special.”

Cinder chuckled. “Of course it is. I’ll see you inside.”

Sunset turned back and rejoined the rest of her team heading towards the third-year locker rooms where they changed.

“You seem to be getting along well,” Pyrrha observed.

“You almost sound surprised.”

“No, I… yes, I suppose I am, a little,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I- oh wait!” Sunset exclaimed, because she needed to talk to Weiss, and she might not get a better chance than this to get her alone. “Weiss!” she called out, turning around to face the rest of the first-years.

Sunset noticed Flash watching her – well, might he watch her; it wasn’t as though he was going to see anything that would interest him – as Weiss made her way cautiously towards her, a puzzled look upon her face.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Can I have a word with you?” Sunset asked.

“Aren’t we having one right now?”

“Funny,” Sunset muttered. “It’s important.”

“Will you be alright by yourself?” Pyrrha asked.

“Sure, I’ll see you in the locker room,” Sunset assured her, and the rest of Team SAPR left her behind with Weiss, just as the other first years – with the exception of the lingering Flash, who stayed diplomatically out of earshot – had left Weiss behind on the same journey.

Weiss put one hand upon her hip. “So? What’s this about?”

“Your father’s company,” Sunset replied, “and what it does to punish people who step out of line.”

“When people step out of line, they get fired,” Weiss replied. “I don’t approve of all my father’s business practices, but I don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with that.”

“I’m not talking about firing people,” Sunset growled. “I’m talking about branding their faces.”

“What?” Weiss exclaimed. “What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous!”

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” Sunset insisted.

“When? Who?”

“The night before last,” Sunset replied. “The White Fang commander who we fought at the docks, Adam Taurus.”

Weiss’ eyes widened. “You ran into him again.”

“Me and Blake and Rainbow Dash,” Sunset confirmed. “Rainbow knocked his mask off, and there it was: the letters 'SDC' seared into his flesh.”

Weiss stared up into Sunset’s eyes, searching for some hint of a lie in there. “This… this is a… what were you and Blake and Rainbow Dash doing fighting the White Fang again the night before last?”

“Never mind that,” Sunset snapped. “Let’s focus on what your father-”

“My father, flawed as he is, is not responsible for everything that is done by the Schnee Dust Company,” Weiss retorted. “What you’re describing is illegal.”

“But it happened,” Sunset declared.

“To one person,” Weiss replied. “To one… rather unpleasant person, you must admit.”

“I’m not making any plea for the virtue of Adam Taurus,” Sunset snapped. “I’m asking how many other people you’ve burned.”

“I haven’t burned anyone!” Weiss cried. Her tone softened as she added, “I must admit, I’m a little surprised this is bothering you.”

“Of course it bothers me. What? If I bother you too much, are you going to-?” Sunset stopped. She gritted her teeth. “That was… unworthy of me to suggest that.”

“Yes,” Weiss said icily. “Yes, it was. And if you’d said it, this conversation would be over by now.” She folded her arms. “Are you sure of what you saw?”

“Certain,” Sunset said.

Weiss scowled. “I don’t know whether to thank you for telling me or wish that you hadn’t. But I’ll look into it. I’ll speak to my sister and find out what she knows. I don’t know if that’s what you wanted, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

“That’s… fine,” Sunset said. She hadn’t been sure exactly what she wanted, except to tell Weiss, perhaps to find out if she’d know about it; she had not, unless she was a better liar than Sunset gave her credit for. She didn’t expect Weiss to solve the problem. She supposed that she’d just wanted to get it off her chest.

And, having gotten it off her chest, she felt a lot better as she rejoined her teammates in the locker room and began to change into her combat outfit.

“Combat class is going to be great this semester!” Ruby declared eagerly as she pulled on her boots. “So many new students to match ourselves against, from all the different schools. After a semester where we found out where we stood against the other Beacon first-years, now we’ll get to see how we do against our peers from across the whole of Remnant.”

“That’s great, if you’re sure that you’re going to come out of the comparison looking pretty good,” Jaune muttered.

“You’ve come such a long way already, Jaune,” Pyrrha insisted. “I think you’re a match for Lyra or Sky or-”

“The worst students in the year?”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. “Progress is progress, Jaune,” she reminded him. “Don’t lose sight of that. Just because… just because you’re not beating me all of a sudden doesn’t mean that you’re not improving.”

“I know,” Jaune assured her as he pulled his hoodie on over his chest. “It’s just that… there’s bound to be so many other great students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade that I don’t stand a chance against, just like here.”

“But you don’t have to fight them all by yourself,” Ruby said. “Even in a tournament, you’ll have us by your side.”

Jaune sighed. “Right.”

“You knew that it would be difficult,” Pyrrha said, “but all the same, I… maybe…”

Jaune looked at her. “Pyrrha?”

“Never mind,” Pyrrha said. “It’s an idea, but nothing that you need to worry about just yet.”

“Will he ever need to worry about it?” Sunset asked.

“No!” Pyrrha cried. “'Worry' was… the wrong word. Nothing to… just put it out of your mind for now.”

Jaune managed to smile as he strapped on his cuirass. “Consider it out… let’s just think about everyone waiting for us out there.”

“I’d like a crack at some of the Shade students,” Sunset said. The Atlesians might be considered arrogant in certain ways, with their patriotism and their desire to shove Atlas this and Atlas that down your throats, but Sunset personally found some of the visitors from Shade to be far more irritating. It was one thing to have pride in where you came from; it was another thing to act like just because you came from a sandy hole in the ground, that made you better than everyone else, stronger, tougher, morally superior. From the moment they arrived in the first semester, some of the Shade students, like Team NDGO, had started walking around like they owned the place.

“Quite frankly, Sunset, you’re more likely to be challenged yourself,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset pulled Soteria out of her locker and shut the door with a slam. “Challenged? Why?”

“I’m afraid you were rather rude to Arslan Altan yesterday, and she’s likely to take it personally.”

“Who?” Sunset asked; she felt as though she’d heard that name before, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“The girl with the light blonde mane who asked why we had been tasked with hunting down the karkadann,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“Oh, her,” Sunset said, remembering. “I wasn’t rude.”

“You told her that she wasn’t me.”

“Well, she isn’t.”

Pyrrha sighed. “Arslan Altan has won second place in the Mistral Regional Tournament for the past four years.”

“Second to you, every time?” Ruby asked.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said softly.

“That’s got to be rough,” Sunset muttered. “So close to what you want, but the same person just keeps standing in your way. No offence.”

“It’s quite alright; I understand completely,” Pyrrha said softly. “I think… Arslan is not a bad person, but I fear she likely has a bit of a chip on her shoulder about this. After what you said… she may seek vengeance for it.”

“'Vengeance'?” Sunset repeated incredulously. “Come on, Pyrrha, you’re overreacting.”

“I’m going to kick her ass,” declared the girl with the untidy mane of pale blonde hair that stood out so much against her dark skin.

One of her teammates, a boy with hair close-cropped on the back and sides and dyed pink on top, groaned. “Arslan, you’ve got to let this go.”

“No, Nadir, I am not going to let it go!” said the girl, Arslan presumably. “Just because I haven’t… it doesn’t give her the right to talk to me like that! ‘You’re not Pyrrha Nikos, are you?’ Who does she think she is?”

“She thinks she’s Pyrrrha’s teammate,” observed another girl, with vivid green hair and dark lines painted onto her face. “Who knows what she’s been told about you?”

“This isn’t P-money’s doing, Reese,” Arslan said firmly. “She’s a lot of things, but she wouldn’t trash-talk me behind my back.”

“How do you know?” Reese demanded.

“Because I know, okay,” Arslan said sharply. “I know Pyrrha, and the fact that her teammate has earned a beating from me doesn’t mean that I don’t know what kind of person she is.”

“Are you sure you can deliver that beating?” asked what must have been the fourth member of their team, a tall young man with a mop of dark hair. “You saw that video of her match with Pyrrha Nikos; she-”

Arslan folded her arms. “If you’re about to tell me that you don’t think I can handle this, Bolin, then I recommend you stop now. I can take on Sunset Shimmer. Even if she has got a powerful semblance, all I have to do is close the distance before she can hit me, and then I’ll have her, like that!” she slammed one fist into her open palm. “Telling me I’m not Pyrrha Nikos, indeed.”

You really know how to get under people’s skin, don’t you Sunset? Blake thought. She had almost finished getting changed for Combat Class and thus far counted herself fortunate that nobody had sought to interact with her in the locker room. Of course, nobody had wanted to interact with her in the locker room before, but now, after what had happened at breakfast, she had been worried that some people might seek to take the dislike they had demonstrated earlier and act upon it.

Here, where there was no Team SAPR and no Team RSPT either.

Not that she needed protection, but it would have been nice to have had a friendly face around. Team YRDN sort of counted – although Dove didn’t seem particularly enamoured of her at the moment – but she knew them far less well and had enjoyed fewer interactions with them. Not that she was complaining or pretending that it wasn’t her own fault, but all the same… a part of her wished that there was someone in here that she knew would be on her side.

In the absence of any such, and with no one looking to interact with her, Blake had been given plenty of opportunity to listen to the chatter of the locker room going on around her, not just to Arslan’s grousing about Sunset, but also to the boasting and the teasing and all of the adjustment that came with a greatly enlarged body of students sharing the lockers and getting to grips with their presence together as rivals.

Blake was distracted from these fascinating anthropological observations by the slamming shut of her locker door, courtesy of a feline faunus – with a tail, instead of ears; a red tail curling up behind her head – with bright red hair and streaks of neon blue in the fringes that matched her eyes. She was dressed in a revealing blue top that exposed large parts of her bra to view, and her pink skirt was too short to conceal the shorts beneath, but what caught Blake’s eye the most was the collar she had around her neck, complete with a golden bell like… well, like a cat.

Blake found that she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She had never seen any faunus wearing anything so… so… she had never seen any faunus wearing anything quite like it before.

As a result, it exercised an almost hypnotic effect on her.

The girl bent down, bringing her head level with where her bell had been, even as she pointed to her eyes. “Uh, my face is up here, kitty.”

Blake blinked rapidly. “'Kitty'? Really?”

The girl shrugged. “You are a cat faunus, right?”

“My name is Blake,” Blake replied.

“And I’m Neon Katt. It’s nice to meet you!” she said, making a paw with one hand and holding it out.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Can I help you with something?”

“Probably not; I just wanted to see the White Fang terrorist,” Neon said. She giggled. “You know, it’s funny; Rainbow says that I talk like I’m part of the White Fang, but then you go and turn out to actually be in the White Fang; isn’t that hilarious!”

“It wouldn’t be, if I was still part of the White Fang,” Blake said, her voice hard and unyielding. “But I’m not any more.”

“Aww, that’s really disappointing,” Neon said. “I thought I might find someone who agrees with me.”

“Agrees with you about what?”

“About how much better we are than everyone else!” Neon cried. “About how with our superior abilities we should totally rule over the rest of these losers who can’t even see in the dark.”

“That’s not funny!” Blake snapped.

“Nearly everything can be funny if you’re willing to look at in the right way,” Neon retorted. She sighed. “But I can already tell that you’re going to turn out to be one of those moody loser faunus who spend all their time moping about injustice, aren’t you?”

“What do you suggest we ought to do instead?”

“Get over it!” Neon yelled. “Laugh! Get on with your lives and remember: we’re stronger than they are, faster than they are, and we can do all kinds of things they can’t even dream of, even before we get into semblances, so if anyone gives you any trouble: kick their ass.” She chuckled, but as she leaned forwards, forcing Blake to back into her locker, her expression hardened, suddenly draining of mirth. “All of which being said, if you are still a member of the White Fang and you hurt any of my friends, I will skin you alive and watch you die slowly before making a pair of super-stylish gloves out of you. Understand, girlfriend?”

Blake wasn’t given the chance to reply. Instead, the response came from another voice, from Nebula Violette of Shade Academy, who laughed as she approached Neon from behind. “Threats, from an Atlesian?” she said. “What a joke.” She scoffed. “Or perhaps Beacon students are so weak that even an Atlesian is able to scare them.”

Nebula Violette was the best example of ‘seem fair and feel foul’ that Blake had ever been so unfortunate as to come across in real life as opposed to the pages of books. She had a deceptively attractive face, with a shock of indigo hair brushed over her left side and olive-coloured eyes.

She was also perhaps the biggest advocate for the supremacy of Shade and Vacuo amongst the entire visiting student body.

Not that Neon Katt could have been aware of that as she rounded on the other girl. “You got a problem?”

Nebula shrugged. She wore a long lilac coat over a grey blouse, corset, and a literal breastplate like the one Sunset had used to wear before she traded up, with black gloves covering her hands and forearms; her coat was rolled up on one side, revealing a black cowter of some kind, while on her opposite shoulder, she wore a single shoulder pauldron. “It’s just that you’re both as weak as one another that I don’t know what you hope to accomplish. If you wanted someone to make threats, then you should have asked for the help of a warrior.”

“Oh, sure, nothing says ‘warrior’ like boob plate and a corset,” Neon replied.

“It says it more than… whatever that is you’re wearing,” Nebula retorted with a scowl.

“What this is, is confidence,” Neon proclaimed proudly. “I don’t need armour,” she added, conveniently ignoring the white vambraces and greaves on her arms and legs, “because nobody is ever going to get close enough to touch me.”

“No one in Atlas, maybe,” Nebula allowed, “but you’re not in Atlas any more-”

“And you’re not in Shade either,” Neon reminded her cheerily. “Atlas may have its faults, but at least there we get taught how to read a map.”

“In Vacuo, we know how to survive,” Nebula declared. “You think that the grimm here or in Solitas are bad? In Vacuo, we have faced the worst the world has to offer before ever reaching Shade Academy, and that is why we are the strongest-”

“Are you trying to intimidate me or bore me to death with all of these clichés?” Neon asked.

Nebula growled. “Watch your step, house cat,” she snapped. “And as for you,” she jabbed her finger aggressively towards Blake. “You belong in a cage, not in this school.”

“Because I’m a faunus?” Blake asked quietly. “Or because I used to be White Fang?”

“Either?” Nebula suggested. “Both.”

“Hey, come on, girls,” Yang said genially as she approached the three. “Let’s save the fighting until we’re actually in class, okay?”

Nebula regarded Yang coolly. “Fine,” she said sharply. “We’ll let our weapons do the talking.” She turned and walked away, the tread of her boots echoing upon the locker room floor.

“What’s her problem?” Neon asked.

“She’s from Vacuo,” Yang said, as though it explained everything.

“Really? Because I thought she’d been living outside the kingdoms!”

“Well, it is Vacuo,” Yang replied.

“You’ve been spending time with Rainbow Dash, haven’t you?” Neon asked. “Anyway: later, losers!” she skated off, leaving a rainbow trail after her.

Yang sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if the Vytal Festival is worth having to put up with all these jerks.”

Blake’s lips crinkled in a slight smile. “Unity and peace, remember.”

“I’m not seeing much of either right now,” Yang declared. She smiled softly, as she reached out and put one hand on Blake’s arm. “How are you holding up?”

Blake bowed her head. “I’m okay,” she muttered.

“Sure you are,” Yang said, in a tone that left it an open question as to whether she believed Blake or not. “But if you’re ever not okay, just remember that Sunset and Rainbow aren’t the only two people in this school who can be here for you.”

Blake looked up into Yang’s purple eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Whatever you’ve done before,” Yang said, “that’s all behind you now. We’ve all done stupid things, but we should all get a chance to learn from them.” She grinned. “Keep moving forward, right?”

“Right,” Blake concurred as she allowed Yang to steer her by the shoulder towards the amphitheatre proper.

During the first semester, there had been few enough students in the freshman class that they could all occupy the seats down on the floor of the amphitheatre, gathered around the ring waiting for their turn to be called to fight. Now, however, with so many additional students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade, those who were not actually fighting had sprawled out onto the upper observation deck, looking down upon the ring from above. It was there that Team SAPR sat, except for Ruby, who was standing in the arena itself facing an Atlesian student named Starlight Glimmer.

Starlight was a tall girl with skin of a dark hue like Ciel, with blue eyes and hair of purple streaked with aquamarine falling in curling waves down her back. She was dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit with aquamarine highlights, and over the top of it, she wore armour that seemed to be exactly the same kind worn by the Atlesians soldiers deployed from their ships: a white-grey cuirass that only covered the upper chest but left the belly exposed, blocky shoulder pauldrons, brassart, and vambraces. The only thing she was lacking was a helmet, seeming to prefer to go bareheaded. In both hands, she tightly gripped a gilded rifle, glowing green along the sleek lines that broke up the weapon and, if Ruby was any judge at all, marked the points at which it would transform into something else. She had the weapon tucked into her shoulder, the barrel pointing down towards the ground.

Her face was expressionless. She stared flatly at Ruby but gave nothing away.

Ruby twirled Crescent Rose experimentally in her hands as she unfolded her weapon. Hers was only the second match of the class, after Yang had gotten them started by beating a Haven student named Hector. She felt an obligation to win, to continue to uphold the honour of Beacon.

Although the pressure wasn’t doing her any favours.

“Go, Starlight!” cheered the girl in the hat and cloak who had made such a dramatic entrance into the cafeteria a couple of days ago.

“You can do it, Ruby!” Penny cried.

“Traitor!” Neon shouted.

“Don’t talk to my teammate like that, Neon!” Rainbow yelled.

“Quiet, everyone!” Professor Goodwitch snapped. She paused a moment. “Begin!”

Starlight snapped up her rifle, firing off a trio of shots; three green laser pulses spat from the barrel of the weapon towards Ruby. Ruby leapt aside, letting the bolts pass harmlessly by her as she rolled to a stop, the blade of Crescent Rose digging into the arena surface as she aimed at her opponent.

Ruby fired twice, Crescent Rose booming. Starlight’s rifle transformed, smoothly shifting from a gun into a long gilded lance with a glowing green tip. The spearshaft spun in Starlight’s hands as she deflected Ruby’s shots.

Her booted feet thudded upon the floor as she charged, lance drawn back for a thrust.

Ruby rushed to meet her, Crescent Rose drawn back. She swung, her scythe blade cutting through the air. Starlight leapt to avoid it, flipping over on her back as the blade passed harmlessly beneath her. As Starlight landed, Ruby let the momentum of her swing turn her around before retreating in a burst of rose petals, putting a little distance between herself and Starlight’s counterattack.

The counterattack didn’t come. Starlight stood where she had landed, silent, unmoving. She watched Ruby, but she made no move. She didn’t even turn her lance back into a rifle. She was thinking, probably. Maybe she was thinking anyway.

Ruby thought too, but conscious that she had to think quickly.

I can’t deflect laser fire like I could bullets, which means I have to take the risk and get in close.

She flourished Crescent Rose before her, tracing a crimson pattern in the air, before she charged forward, trailing rose petals in her wake. She swung her scythe. Starlight blocked the stroke, using the shaft of her lance to stop her slashing blow dead in its tracks. She grinned, and her left hand glowed aquamarine as she released her spear and lashed out in a snapping punch that came too fast for Ruby to dodge. It connected with her shoulder hard enough to send Ruby flying, and as she flew, Ruby felt… it was weird, it wasn’t like getting hit normally felt, it was more than just a blow to her aura, it felt… it felt almost as if something was being taken away from her.

She hit the ground and rolled to a stop and then onto her feet again, in time to see Starlight Glimmer rushing towards her.

Rushing towards her trailing lavender petals?

What the-?

Ruby tried to use her semblance to get away, to put some distance between her and Starlight, only… she couldn’t. Her semblance wasn’t working! Why wasn’t her semblance working?

Is that what I felt? Did she take my semblance?

No time to think about that now. She didn’t have her semblance any more, which meant that she would have to make do without it. She reversed Crescent Rose and fired, using the recoil to propel herself forwards, swinging her scythe. Starlight flowed around Ruby, trailing lavender petals, moving faster than Ruby could follow, lashing out with her lance to hit Ruby across the face, first with the butt and then with the point. Ruby staggered backwards, feeling her aura drain away under the impact of the blows. Starlight retreated, using Ruby’s semblance to put distance between the two of them as her lance reformed into its original rifle configuration.

Starlight fired. Ruby shot too, but she was using the recoil on Crescent Rose to substitute for her semblance, to keep herself moving while she tried to think of a new plan. Starlight was faster than she was – now, Ruby thought sourly – so trying to close in wasn’t an option. She should shoot, but then she could also be shot at, so how was she supposed to win this?

Starlight started shooting at her, spraying her laser bolts wide so as to give Ruby nowhere to run, nowhere to escape too. A shot caught Ruby on the shoulder, and she went down. She got up again, not wanting to look on the board to see how much aura she had left. She fired again.

That’s it! She can’t block my shots while she’s firing.

Ruby stopped moving. Aimed and fired.

Her bullet left Crescent Rose with a roar as Starlight’s bolt left her rifle with a crackle.

Bullet and bolt flew past one another.

Both stroke home, flinging their targets onto their backs and across the surface of the arena.

A buzzer sounded, and from the weariness that she was feeling in her limbs, Ruby guessed it was for her.

“And that’s the match: Miss Rose’s aura has passed into the red, and she is unable to continue,” Professor Goodwitch said, confirming Ruby’s fears. “Miss Glimmer is victorious. Congratulations, Miss Glimmer.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“What would you have done without your semblance?”

Starlight didn’t reply for a moment. “Tried to keep out of reach of her scythe, Professor.”

“Hmm,” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “Miss Rose… you did the best you could, faced with unforeseen circumstances.”

It didn’t feel like it to Ruby, but she still managed to say, “Thank you, Professor.”

She started to get up. A hand entered her field of vision, a hand that was glowing with an aquamarine light.

The hand of Starlight Glimmer.

“I guess you’d like your semblance back now, right?” she said, smiling.

Ruby hesitated for a moment before she reached up and took Starlight’s hand. As the other girl helped her to her feet, Ruby felt not only a little of her aura restored but more than that… she felt whole again. “Thanks,” Ruby said softly. “Neat semblance.”

“Yeah,” Starlight murmured, looking a little uncomfortable. “I got lucky with it.” She laughed nervously. “Anyway, now that you know about it, I expect you’ll give me more trouble next time.”

Ruby grinned. “Count on it!”

Sol Invictus felt heavy in Sunset’s hands as she faced Nebula Violette across the ring.

I did say I wanted to get a crack at one of these proud Vacuan warriors.

This was the last match of the class. Whether she won or lost, this would be what people were talking about on the way into the locker rooms.

And after Ruby’s misfortune – temporary misfortune; Sunset had no doubt that Ruby would get her next time – against Starlight Glimmer, it was up to Sunset to uphold the honour of Team SAPR, since neither Jaune nor Pyrrha had been called, much to the disappointment of some people, Sunset was sure.

She had to win this fight, or the newcomers wouldn’t understand why Team SAPR was a force to be reckoned with and a team to watch.

She could not afford to mess this up.

Nebula held her crossbow loosely in one hand. She looked cocky, the cheeky little madam. Didn’t she know who Sunset was? Did she think that Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team SAPR, was some no mark student of little account, the sort who could be taken lightly?

I suppose this is why Arslan wants to fight me.

Speaking of Arslan Altan, if Sunset remembered right the face of the person she had offended, then she had been stewing all class and now looked very sour at the fact that it was Nebula who had been chosen to be Sunset’s opponent and not her.

I should probably apologise… but I kind of like the fact that a great Mistralian tournament fighter wants to fight me this badly.

If I haven’t arrived yet, I’m pulling into the station.

Now, back to the subject at hand, what can I do to end this quickly?

Professor Goodwitch clasped her hands together behind her back. “Begin!”

Nebula started to raise her crossbow.

But Sunset had already teleported right in front of her, Sol Invictus levelled at her chest.

BANG!

Sunset fired into Nebula’s chest, then extended the bayonet outwards, slamming into her while she was off balance and knocking her out of the arena.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch observed calmly.

Nebula leapt to her feet. “Professor!”

“In a tournament-style duel, Miss Violette, leaving the ring for any reason is cause for elimination,” Professor Goodwitch reminded her.

Nebula scowled. “But in a real battle, there is no ring!”

“In a real battle, there is no limit on the amount of aura a contestant may have,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “I hope you are not suggesting that I should allow students to fight to the death?”

“No,” Nebula admitted, “but-”

“You were unfortunate,” Professor Goodwitch informed her, “but a greater degree of readiness might have served you well when the battle began. Miss Shimmer, you took the initiative, and it served you well.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Thank you, Professor.”

She looked out, away from the arena across the ranks of the gathered students, down below and up in the gallery. Arslan Atlan, who still looked put out that she had been denied the chance to lose quickly against Sunset; Cinder, who looked impressed; all the students come from all the schools to challenge them, to compete in – futile – struggle to be the best.

They will be dust beneath our chariot wheels, but in the meantime… this is shaping up to be a pretty interesting semester.

Student Teacher Conversations (New)

Student-Teacher Conversations

Yang knocked on the door to Professor Goodwitch's office, even as she poked her head around it. "You asked to see me, Professor?"

Professor Goodwitch looked up from whatever it was that she'd been working on. "Yes, come in, Miss Xiao Long."

Yang walked in, closing the door softly behind her, and strode inside the small, slightly overcrowded room. Although she had been in here more than once, it didn't stop her feeling just a little bit nervous every time she came in here, whether it was rational to feel that way or not. She stopped in front of Professor Goodwitch's desk. "Professor, if this is about what happened in the kitchen-"

"It is not, Miss Xiao Long," Professor Goodwitch said, looking up at her. "Although, don't let that stop you from explaining yourself."

"Oh, it's nothing for someone like you to concern yourself with, Professor," Yang assured her, with a touch of feigned laughter in her voice. "Nora had just a new recipe idea that got a little out of hand."

"I thought that Mister Ren was the only cook in Team Iron."

"Ren would probably be happier if he was," Yang muttered. Nora's enthusiasm for the culinary arts far outstripped her actual skill in the kitchen. As an artist with batter, she had few equals, but in terms of producing something edible… not so much.

Professor Goodwitch stared at her for a moment. Then she let out the slightest hint of a chuckle before looking down at the mass of paperwork cluttering up her desk. "Please, sit down, Miss Xiao Long," Professor Goodwitch said kindly, gesturing with one hand to the chair in front of her desk. "I won't keep you from lunch very long."

"Thanks, Professor," Yang said, taking the chair. She crossed her legs, one boot resting upon her knee. "And it's fine. Professor, can I ask you a question?"

Professor Goodwitch leaned back in her chair. "Of course, Miss Xiao Long, although I can't guarantee you an answer."

"What's going to happen to Team Bluebell, or whatever we ought to call them now?" Yang asked. "Without Blake, they're down to three people and…" she sought for a tactful way to put it, "not the most talented three people."

Professor Goodwitch made a wordless sound that Yang took to be confirmation that the Combat Instructor agreed with her about the place in the rankings occupied by Lyra, Bon Bon, and Sky. "May I ask your interest in this, Miss Xiao Long?"

"Dove's worried about them," Yang explained.

"Ah," Professor Goodwitch said. "Unfortunately, I cannot set Mister Bronzewing's mind completely at ease, since no decision has been made regarding Team Bluebell at this time, but you may inform him that I have no intention of assigning the three of them a field mission in their current state."

"I'll tell him that, Professor; thank you," Yang replied, She was somewhat of the mind that, it being the case that the three of them couldn't manage without Blake, perhaps Beacon wasn't the place for them… but that really wasn't her place to say, and so, she kept it to herself. Who was she to put a limit on the dreams of others?

She waited to hear why Professor Goodwitch had asked to see her.

"You fought very well today," Professor Goodwitch informed her.

Yang grinned. "Thanks, Professor, but that guy wasn't so tough." He hadn't been a pushover, but he hadn't really pushed her either. "I, uh, know that I probably shouldn't ask you for favours-"

Professor Goodwitch smiled. "But you aren't going to let a little thing like that stop you, Miss Xiao Long?"

Yang chuckled. "It's not like I'm asking for permission to cut class or anything, Professor. I was just wondering if you could hook me up against Rainbow Dash sometime this semester."

Professor Goodwitch's eyebrows rose. "You want to fight Miss Dash?"

"It might not exactly be the spirit of the Vytal Festival, but I wouldn't mind wiping that cocky smile off her face," Yang admitted.

A little titter of laughter escaped from Professor Goodwitch's lips. "It would certainly serve to puncture a little of General Ironwood's pomposity," she acknowledged. "Although, if you were defeated… I would rather not give the general an excuse to be even more pleased with himself than he is already."

"I can only promise to do my best, Professor," Yang said. "Do you think I can take her?"

Professor Goodwitch stared at her for a moment. "Just as you shouldn't ask me for favours, I shouldn't play favourites… but I'll see that you get your chance, if that's what you want."

"It is," Yang declared, because what was the point of being here if she wasn't going to test her skills against the best of the best?

"Very well," Professor Goodwitch acknowledged. "However, it may have to wait, because the reason I asked you to come and see me, Miss Xiao Long, is that I have a mission that I'd like to offer to Team Iron."

Yang's mouth opened a little. "Already?"

"You were told that they might come at any time."

"Yeah, but I didn't think that meant 'second day of the semester,'" Yang replied. "Although I suppose any time does mean any time. But…"

"'But,' Miss Xiao Long?"

"Why us, Professor, why Team Iron?" Yang asked. "To be honest… I kind of thought that you'd be giving Team Sapphire first pick of any first-year missions."

Professor Goodwitch's expression was inscrutable. "And why is that, Miss Xiao Long?"

"Well, they're…" Yang sought for a way to say 'they're better than us' that didn't sound self-pitying. "They're the ones everyone seems to be watching."

"I have been watching you, Miss Xiao Long, and not just in sparring and leadership class," Professor Goodwitch informed her. She hesitated for a moment. "There is a an old Valish proverb: anyone can spend gold, but it takes skill to spin it from straw?"

Yang frowned. "My team isn't straw, Professor."

"Indeed not, Miss Xiao Long; your team is Iron," Professor Goodwitch agreed. "But nevertheless… you are a more impressive leader than Miss Shimmer." Once more she paused. "You are correct; there are many eyes upon Team Sapphire. Wouldn't you like to show them they've been looking in the wrong place?"

Yang felt the grin spread across her face. "You bet I would, Professor. So what's the mission?"

Ruby gasped. "You're going on a mission already?"

"Yep," Yang agreed, as she sat down at the dining table. She looked down said table to where Ren, Nora, and Dove sat in a row beside her. "You guys don't mind that I accepted it without talking to you first, do you?"

"You're our leader," Nora said.

"Indeed, and we trust your judgement," Ren agreed.

"Besides, if Professor Goodwitch had wanted us to make the decision together, she could have asked all of us into her office," Dove said. "Clearly, she wanted you to decide on our behalf. You would have looked a little ridiculous asking her to hold on while you found us for our opinion."

"I guess so," Yang acknowledged. "I did feel as though I had to say yes or no right there."

"And you said yes, so get on with it and tell us what the mission is already!" Nora cried.

Yang laughed. "We are going to be spending a week on the luxurious outskirts of Vale, joining a huntsman, a platoon from the Defence Forces, and some contractors while they do some work on the Green Line."

"'Some work'?" Sunset repeated. "That's a little nebulous, isn't it?"

Yang shrugged. "I guess we don't really need to know exactly what they're doing. We're not building a wall – or fixing a wall or whatever – we're just protecting the workers while they get on with… whatever it is."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed slightly. "Some might say it is a little late to be repairing the outer defences."

"You might be right, but… better late than never, I suppose," Yang replied.

"Any obstacle that can be placed in the path of the grimm is worthwhile," Ren declared.

"So, if it's only on the outskirts of Vale, are you guys going to fly out to the site from Beacon each day?" Jaune asked.

Yang shook her head. "Nah, the contractors get to go home at night, but we have to stick around in case any grimm try to… tear down the walls, I suppose, and to make sure that we're there when the first workers arrive, probably. So we'll be camping out at the site. Pack your sleeping bags, everyone."

"This is gonna be great!" Nora cried. "Camping out under the stars, it'll be just like old times, don't you think, Ren?"

"Not quite like old times," Ren murmured. "We won't be alone, for a start."

"No, I guess not."

"I've never actually been camping," Dove admitted.

"Really?" Ruby demanded. "Never?"

"I grew up in the countryside; I never needed to go away from home to reach nature," Dove explained.

"Yeah, but Yang and I grew up out in the countryside, and Dad used to take us camping sometimes," Ruby replied. "Yang, remember that fishing trip when I was five?"

"I remember that we didn't catch anything."

"Yeah, but we had fun, right?"

Yang grinned. "Yeah, we did have a lot of fun."

"I'm not sure this trip will be fun," Dove murmured.

"Maybe not, but it is important," Ruby reminded him.

"I just can't believe that you four got offered a field mission before us," Sunset complained.

"Our turn will come," Pyrrha assured her.

"I know, but it's the principle of the thing."

"What principle?" inquired Jaune.

"It's a sign of teacher confidence, and what are you looking so insufferably smug about?" Sunset demanded.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Yang said, looking away so that the smirk on her face was less visible to Sunset.

"You'd know all about insufferable smugness, I suppose," Nora said.

Sunset's eyes narrowed, and she glowered at Nora. Nora didn't seem to care. Indeed, judging by her smile, she positively relished Sunset's irritation.

"So when do you leave?" Ruby asked.

"Tomorrow," Yang replied.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?" Ruby demanded.

Yang reached across the table and ruffled Ruby's hair. "I wouldn't dream of it," she assured her sister.

Ruby squirmed under her sister's hand. "Good luck out there," she said.

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "Good fortune attend you all."

“Winter,” Weiss said. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Why would I stay away?” Winter asked as she marched, hands clasped behind her back, across the courtyard. Weiss waited for her under the shadow of the huntsman statue that dominated the space. Winter stopped, back straight, and looked up at the heroic huntsman elevated above. “A rather vain thing, I’ve always thought.”

Weiss looked around and up. “The statue?”

“Indeed.”

Weiss frowned. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“It makes a great many assumptions, don’t you think?” Winter asked. “How many students at this school do you believe deserve to called ‘hero’?”

“Few enough, I suppose,” Weiss conceded, “but I think it’s supposed to be an ideal to strive for, not something to inflate our egos.”

Winter snorted. “No single huntsman, however skilled, can hope to triumph alone. We are all individual pieces of an engine so much greater than ourselves; this school shouldn’t allow its students to forget that.”

“It’s just a statue,” Weiss replied. “For the rest… I think that having to be on teams with some… dubious characters reinforces that lesson very well.”

“You don’t like your teammates?”

“Flash is fine,” Weiss said quickly.

“But he’s the only one,” Winter observed.

“I didn’t drag you down here at night to talk about my teammates,” Weiss said quickly.

“No, but as I’m here – and will be in Vale for some time – I’m here to talk, if you need to,” Winter insisted. “But if not that, then what? Your message to me was rather cryptic.”

Weiss clasped her hands together in front of her, playing with her fingers. “Winter,” she said, “what do you know about the conditions in the mines or the refineries?”

“Not much, I admit,” Winter replied. “Perhaps if I’d gone to work for our father instead of attending Atlas, he would have started grooming me to take over the business by now. Or perhaps not.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Do I regret choosing to become an officer and a specialist instead of standing behind Father at interminable social functions?” Winter demanded. “Not for a moment. Weiss, what is this about?”

“Do you know… do you know if, in the mines, or anywhere else, faunus are ever punished by being branded?” Weiss asked.

“'Branded'?” Winter repeated. “You mean burned?”

“With the letters SDC, yes,” Weiss said softly.

“Weiss,” Winter murmured. “What makes you ask that?”

“One of my… fellow students,” Weiss said, “claims that she saw such a brand upon the face of a White Fang terrorist that she – and the Atlesian student, Rainbow Dash – encountered. Winter, have we been creating the monsters who prey upon us?”

“We are not responsible for the actions of the White Fang, no matter how overzealous the SDC may be in enforcing discipline,” Winter declared. She turned away from Weiss. “Thank you for telling me this. I had no idea that the company was going so far.”

“What shall we do?”

“'Do'? What do you expect to do?” Winter demanded. “Do you think that you can investigate practices in the mines from Beacon? Bring down the SDC by yourself?”

“Then what?” Weiss replied. “Should I do nothing?”

“That is all that you can do and all that you should do. For now,” Winter said. “You are not responsible for this, and you have no duty to put an end to it. Later, when Father steps down and you take over the company, then you will have the power to change the company, perhaps to change Remnant itself, but until then, your focus should be upon your studies and yourself.”

“But…” Weiss hesitated. What Winter was saying made sense, but it was a cold kind of sense, and being cold was unpleasant to accept. “It’s a hard thing to just ignore. Does anyone deserve to be treated like that?”

“No,” Winter agreed. “And I understand; I will even concede that it speaks well to your nature. But nevertheless, I urge you to put it out of your mind. You have told me; that is all you can do.”

“And what about you?” Weiss asked. “What will you do?” Will you do anything?

“I’m not sure yet,” Winter admitted.

“But you will-”

“Yes,” Winter said, cutting her off. “I am not sure what precisely, yet; I would speak to the General but I am loath to add to his burdens at this time, but trust me, Weiss, I will not simply let this lie.”

“I do trust you, Winter,” Weiss said. “Do you think… do you think that Father knows about this?” As much as she was aware of their father’s faults, there was a part of her - a substantial part, at that - that would rather believe that it was merely the work of some rogue subordinate within the company.

“I have… no idea,” Winter admitted. “But I will find out. I promise you that.”

Ciel marched into General Ironwood's office aboard the Valiant, her boots slamming into the metal floor with an echo. "Cadet Ciel Soleil reporting as ordered, sir!"

"At ease, Soleil," General Ironwood ordered her, not rising from his seat behind his desk. When Ciel had done so, spacing her feet apart and clasping her hands behind her back, the General continued. "Any thoughts on why I asked to see you? Alone?"

"I couldn't say, sir," Ciel said. Nor did she think it was her business to speculate. General Ironwood would tell her what he wanted from her in his own good time. She had been ordered to report, and so, she had reported. Anything else was just idle speculation, made no less idle by the fact that she had engaged in it regardless.

"I want to talk to you about last semester," General Ironwood declared. "And the Belladonna incident."

"I see, sir," Ciel said quietly.

General Ironwood stared into her eyes for a moment. "Let me preface everything else by saying that you performed admirably at the docks when the battle was joined."

"Thank you, sir; credit accrues to the entire unit."

"It does," General Ironwood agreed, "but as a part of that unit, some of the credit accrues to you."

"As you say, sir," Ciel replied.

General Ironwood rose to his feet. "There are times," he declared, "when I feel as though I owe you an apology. I can't believe this is what you imagined of your first year at Atlas."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

General Ironwood's frown was almost imperceptible. "Granted."

"I was somewhat dreading the beginning of my first year at Atlas, sir."

"Really?"

"You can hardly be unaware, sir, that I am… not the most sociable of people," Ciel confessed. There were many reasons why she excelled in Etiquette, but amongst them was the fact that it was much easier to memorize the rules and codes of manners that governed interactions in a formal setting than it was to deal with people in all of their informal unpredictability. "The prospect of spending four years with a randomly selected trio of my peers was not altogether to my liking. This present assignment is unorthodox, to be sure, but not unwelcome."

General Ironwood chuckled. "Do you believe in destiny, Soleil?"

"No, sir."

"No?"

"The fault is not in our stars but in ourselves, sir," Ciel declared. "We make our own fortune, good or ill."

"A valid viewpoint," General Ironwood acknowledged. "And yet, when I needed people I could trust to take care of Penny, there right in front of me were you and Rainbow Dash, both proven and reliable, and both available. Some might call that fate."

"Others might call it providence, sir," Ciel said. The Lady provides to the children of the North.

"Indeed," General Ironwood said. He paused. "How are your injuries?"

"They do not affect my performance, sir."

General Ironwood nodded. "But how do they feel?"

Ciel paused for a moment. "I… sometimes suffer some discomfort, when sitting or lying down."

"Dash hasn't mentioned it."

"A fact of which I am very proud, sir," Ciel replied. Dash thought that a team leader should know her teammates better than their mothers did, but Ciel wouldn't have let her mother know about this either.

General Ironwood said, "Have you considered medication?"

"I would rather not, sir," Ciel said. One heard so many horror stories these days, she would rather not take the risk for the sake of what was moderate discomfort at worst.

"Very well," General Ironwood said. "As you point out, it isn't affecting your performance academically or in battle. However, I do still need to talk to you about the Belladonna incident."

"Of course, sir."

General Ironwood affixed her with his gaze. "When Rainbow Dash informed you that Miss Belladonna was a White Fang agent, she ordered you to arm yourself and secure Twilight, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And she ordered you to shoot Miss Belladonna on sight, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you agree with those orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?" General Ironwood demanded.

"Because Blake Belladonna was a White Fang agent, sir," Ciel declared. "I had already been informed by Rainbow Dash that, as she was being led into detention, Chrysalis had vowed revenge on Twilight; the possibility that Blake Belladonna would seek to accomplish that revenge could not be discounted."

"Not even after Professor Ozpin vouched for her personally?"

"After that… the credibility of the threat diminished, sir," Ciel admitted.

"And yet you went out looking for her, with the intent to engage her if you found her, perhaps even to kill her," General Ironwood said.

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Because those were my team leader's orders, sir."

"And you didn't question the validity of those orders?"

"A good soldier goes where she's sent and does what she's told, sir," Ciel replied.

"Even if she has doubts about them?"

"I had my doubts about remaining in Vale and attending Beacon, sir," Ciel answered, "but I obeyed the orders of my team leader."

"And mine," General Ironwood reminded her.

"Yes, sir," Ciel said. "But, if I may again speak freely, sir, if every order is to be examined by those charged with carrying it out on ethical, legal, or practical grounds, then I fail to see how the military can continue to function. There are times when we must not think but only obey and trust that those who command us, though they may not have told us all, know what they're doing and have in mind a larger purpose."

"And if the orders you obey do turn out to be unethical or illegal?"

"Then it will be a black thing for the conscience of them who gave the order, sir, but it will not trouble my own," Ciel declared.

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Your sense of duty is greatly to be admired," he said, "and you would have an excellent point – if the orders had come from me or from another senior officer. But they didn't."

Ciel swallowed. "No, sir."

"Dash didn't clear her actions with me or anyone senior to herself in the chain of command. And you knew that."

"Yes, sir."

"But you obeyed her anyway?"

"I… am sorry, sir," Ciel said quietly. "Although I am not sure what I should have done instead."

"Insisted that Dash report in to me," General Ironwood told her. "You're correct that loyalty is important. It might even be the most important virtue in our military. But by being loyal to Dash, you were disloyal to me and to the principles that Atlas stands for, not to mention putting Dash herself at risk of a court martial. Do you understand that?"

"I do now, sir," Ciel murmured. "Once again, I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," General Ironwood said. "You're a good soldier, Soleil. I just want to make sure you take the right lesson from all this."

"Yes, sir. I will, sir."

"That's all," General Ironwood said. "Dismissed."

Twilight walked into the General's office to find General Ironwood himself looking out of the window. It was getting dark outside, but the night sky was illuminated by the lights of the fleet, the cruisers and carriers glowing in the darkness as their lights gleamed out like beacons.

Twilight scuffed her feet upon the floor. She wasn't sure what she ought to do with her hands, so she fussed with the hem of her skirt while she waited for General Ironwood to turn around.

He didn't. Instead, he spoke while he still had his back to her. "I understand Applejack came to see you just before the start of semester?"

"Uh, yes," Twilight said, caught off guard by the subject. "All of our friends did. It was great of them, to come all the way to Vale just to pay us a visit." She paused. "If they'd told us what they were planning beforehand, I probably would have told them not to come. But I'm glad they did."

"You would have told them not to?" General Ironwood asked. "Because of the danger?"

"The grimm… they seem to be getting bolder," Twilight murmured. "The grimm… and the White Fang… normally, I'd say there were no coincidences… but how can it be anything else?"

General Ironwood sighed. She couldn't see his face, but from what Twilight could make out of his reflection in the window, he seemed melancholy. Or perhaps "worried" would be a better word. It was an uncomfortable sight. Twilight supposed that he had reason to be concerned: he was the commander of a great fleet, the lives of men and women resting upon his shoulders, not to mention the security of Vale and affairs back home in Atlas, all without getting into the danger posed by the White Fang. Yes, when she thought about it rationally, Twilight could see that General Ironwood had reason indeed to be concerned, but at the same time, to actually see it upon his face… it made her uncomfortable. It had made her concerned. It made her… a little afraid. She didn't want to know that General Ironwood felt the weight of his lofty position and his responsibilities, weighty though those responsibilities were. She wanted to know that everything was fine and that the General was full of confidence, so that she – that all of them – should be confident too.

It was selfish, but it was how she felt.

General Ironwood might as well have been able to sense her thoughts and feelings, because when he turned around to face her, all care and concern had vanished from his face, and in its place was dauntless and unyielding resolve. "You're right, of course," he said. "How can it be anything but a coincidence? Don't worry too much about the grimm, Twilight; patrols have increased on the airship routes, and those increased resources are making travel between the kingdoms as easy as ever. Your friends made it back to Atlas safe and sound, didn't they?"

"Yes, they did. Most of them."

"Ah, yes," General Ironwood said. "Applejack has gone into the wilds, hasn't she?"

"Yes, General," Twilight replied. "She's taking care of our friend Fluttershy while she studies some of the fauna native to Vale."

General Ironwood nodded. "Don't worry about them either. Applejack is a fine student; she knows how to take care of herself and others."

"I know," Twilight agreed. "And, as much as it's not without risk… this is Fluttershy's dream. I wouldn't take it away from her, even if I could, just because of a little danger."

General Ironwood did not reply to that, instead changing the subject by asking, "How have you found Beacon?"

"The facilities are… a little primitive compared to Atlas," Twilight admitted. "I don't think it's as well-funded."

"I've never sought to pry into Ozpin's financials, but it wouldn't surprise me," General Ironwood concurred. "The Kingdom of Vale is not as wealthy as Atlas, so it probably couldn't afford to endow its Academy even if it wished to do so. On the other hand, it could also be that Ozpin prefers a more traditional approach."

"That sounds like the sort of attitude I'd expect from Haven rather than Beacon," Twilight pointed out.

"Respect for tradition is not confined to Mistral, even if it is carried to excess there," General Ironwood reminded her. "But how have you found it here?"

"We've been fortunate in how welcoming so many people have been," Twilight said. "For all that it isn't Atlas, Beacon has never felt unfriendly, still less hostile."

"I'm glad to hear it. And Penny?"

"Bringing her here was the best decision we could have made," Twilight declared. "She has the chance to make her own friends, to find out for herself who she is. That… General, does it ever bother you that Penny is essentially a slave?"

"Penny is a soldier," General Ironwood corrected her.

"A soldier can quit," Twilight pointed out.

"Actually, they can't, not at whim," General Ironwood said.

"Perhaps not, but the fact is that if Rainbow Dash wanted to drop out of Atlas and become… a professional soccer player or something, then you couldn't stop her," Twilight said. "Would Penny be allowed to drop out?"

General Ironwood was silent for a moment before he said, "Does Penny want to drop out?"

"No, but that's not the point," Twilight said. "The point is that she couldn't even if she wanted to."

General Ironwood clasped his hands together behind his back. "You're right," he admitted. "Penny can't quit. She's the product of millions of lien's worth of cutting edge research and development funded by the Kingdom of Atlas, and the Kingdom of Atlas will have its money's worth. The Doctors Polendina were well aware of that when they pitched their idea."

"But Penny wasn't aware of that," Twilight said softly.

"No," Ironwood agreed. "And that is why I'm glad that she's making friends, forming bonds that will motivate her to keep fighting. It's manipulative, but I hope that she'll be driven to protect those ties so strongly that she'll never notice that she doesn't actually have a say in the matter."

"You're right, sir, that is manipulative," Twilight said. Even if Rainbow Dash said pretty much the same thing, it sounded much better when she said it.

"I wish I had the luxury of always being kind, Twilight, but I don't," General Ironwood informed her. "Tell me about what happened with Belladonna last semester."

Ah. So we're getting to the point, now. "What do you want to know, General?" she asked.

"How did you feel when you found out about Miss Belladonna's past?"

"I… I was scared," Twilight admitted. "After what happened at the Wedding, with Chrysalis… the thought that there'd been another White Fang agent right under my nose, so close to me, so close to Penny… I felt like an idiot."

"Did you agree with what Rainbow Dash decided to do about it?"

Twilight was silent for a moment. "Rainbow… did what she thought was right."

"That's not what I asked."

"No, it isn't," Twilight admitted. "But I won't betray my friend by criticising them behind their back."

"Dash’s punishment has already been meted out, and I won’t stack more upon her for the same incident," General Ironwood assured her. "You aren’t being punished at all, for that matter. I just want to understand what drove you to act the way you did."

"Oh," Twilight murmured. "Well… I wasn't out on the streets, looking for Blake. I had my drones out, but I was still at Beacon, safe, guarded by Flash Sentry of Beacon's Team Wisteria. And I suppose that being at Beacon, not being outside, not having a lot to do other than check on my drones… it gave me a chance to think about things, to talk to Weiss about things, to realise that if Blake had been our enemy, then she probably would have hidden it better or attacked when she was discovered or… or something other than she did." Twilight bowed her head. "Should I have made Rainbow see that, too?"

"You should have come to me," General Ironwood informed her. "Dash's decision to secure you was prudent in the circumstances, but once you were secure, I should have been your first call. If you'd even called me once you started to have doubts, I would have called Dash off."

"General, if you'd done that, there's a good chance Blake, and perhaps others, would have died at the docks."

"The fact that things worked out in the end doesn't justify the steps that led there," General Ironwood declared sternly. "Next time you're in a situation like this, request orders from higher up."

"I… I hope that we won't ever be in a situation like that again, General," Twilight said with a slight smile.

General Ironwood smiled too. "So do I, Twilight. So do I."

“Good evening, General Ironwood!” Penny cried cheerily, offering the General a wave as cheery as her voice as she strode into his office.

General Ironwood sighed. “Penny, we’re both on duty, and this isn’t a social visit.”

Penny’s eyes widened. She tried to remember what it was that she was supposed to do. Right! That was it! She slammed her foot down onto the floor so hard she made a dent. “Reporting for duty, General!” she cried. Her smile remained in place as she asked, “Did I do it right?”

“Not exactly, but close enough for now,” General Ironwood muttered. “Don’t worry; you’ll get it eventually.” He walked around his desk until he was standing right in front of her, looking down. “How’s school?”

“Excellent!” Penny yelled. “Some of the teachers here are a little strange, but Professor Port’s stories are so much fun, even though I don’t really understand what he’s trying to tell me, and Doctor Oobleck talks so fast that it’s like a game to try and keep up with him. I’m a little disappointed that Professor Goodwitch won’t let me fight Pyrrha, but Rainbow Dash says that I just have to be patient, and my turn will come. And I’ve made so many wonderful friends here like Ruby and Pyrrha and I… I love it here,” she said. Impulsively, she flung her arms around General Ironwood and embraced him as tightly as her arms allowed. “Thank you, General Ironwood, for letting me stay here.”

She felt the General’s hand upon the top of her head, at first patting it and then gently stroking her hair until he reached her bow. “That’ll do, Penny,” General Ironwood said, his voice showing no sign of the discomfort that people sometimes expressed with Penny’s demonstrations of affection. “That’ll do.”

Penny released him and took a step back. “I won’t forget this, General.”

“I didn’t allow you to remain at Beacon in hopes of earning your gratitude, Penny,” General Ironwood informed her. “I did it because I thought it was best for you, and judging from what I’ve been told, I believe that I was right.” He paused. “Your father was not so happy about it, but I believe he’ll come around by the time the year ends.”

Penny let out a little squeak of alarm. “What… what did he say?”

“He called me a great many things, ‘irresponsible’ being one of them,” General Ironwood said, and strangely, he didn’t seem very annoyed or offended by that. He almost sounded as though it amused him. “You mentioned Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos, but what about your teammates?”

“They take care of me,” Penny pouted. “Whether I want them to or not.”

“You may not thank me for this, Penny, but I chose Dash and Soleil precisely because I thought they might be… a little overprotective. You are… valuable to Atlas. You may chafe, but I’d rather have you taken too much care of than not enough. However, I have to say that there are times when I think that Dash has not taken enough care of you.”

“You’re talking about the docks, General?”

General Ironwood paused for a moment. “You told me that you felt like a failure, for not protecting Ruby from Adam Taurus. But that must have come after the battle, when you saw that she had been wounded. During the battle itself, when you were fighting, how did you feel?”

“I… I didn’t really think about it,” Penny admitted. “There was so much going on.”

“How much do you remember about the fighting?” General Ironwood asked.

“My ocular senses recorded everything, General,” Penny declared, “but… when I play back the events that occurred, it’s as though I don’t recognise them. I… I haven’t told Twilight about that; should I ask her to examine me?”

“There’s no need,” General Ironwood said. “What you’re describing is perfectly normal. When you look back at a battle in which you fought, some moments stand out to you with perfect clarity, and others, you barely recall, let alone understand. You don’t need to worry about it, and you don’t need to tell Twilight about it unless you want to.”

“No,” Penny said, keeping her voice from trembling. “I don’t want anyone to worry. Thank you, General.”

“No thanks are needed, Penny,” General Ironwood informed her, “but what about before the battle at the docks? What about when you were pursuing Miss Belladonna, what did you think about that?”

“Rainbow Dash said that Blake was dangerous.”

General Ironwood nodded. “And did you believe her?”

Penny went quiet for a moment. “I know that people can lie, sir. I didn’t know that Blake wasn’t one of them. But I didn’t want to believe it.”

“Why not? I understand you didn’t know Miss Belladonna.”

“No, I didn’t,” Penny replied, “but I didn’t want to believe that someone had been so close to hurting my friends and I hadn’t done anything about it.”

“Is that what you want?” General Ironwood asked. “To protect your friends?”

“It’s the thing I want the most.”

“Is there anything else that you want?”

“No,” Penny lied, and hiccupped as a consequence. “Yes, General, there is.”

“Go on,” General Ironwood said.

“I’d like… I think I’d like… to be famous,” Penny admitted.

General Ironwood looked surprised to hear it. Or at least she thought that was what it meant when his eyebrows rose. “'Famous'?” he repeated.

“I’ve watched all those videos of great fighters in tournaments, and so many of them look so happy to be standing in the ring with the whole crowd cheering them on. I think I’d like that too, General; Rainbow Dash told me it was really cool.”

“Yes, that is what Dash would say,” General Ironwood stated simply. “You are here for the Vytal Tournament, Penny. If you work hard, keep up your training, and apply yourself to your best endeavours, then it may happen to you. Certainly, a lot of people back home would be eager to see it happen too.”

“Yes, General.”

“That will be all,” General Ironwood said.

“Okay,” Penny said, but she didn’t leave, not just yet. “General Ironwood… did I do something wrong?”

“I’ll let Rainbow Dash explain to you what she did wrong,” General Ironwood said, “and what you did wrong by following her while she did it. Goodnight, Penny; that will be all.”

Blake didn't know exactly why General Ironwood had asked to see her in his office aboard his flagship... although it didn't take a genius to work out that it had something to do with the deal that, presumably, General Ironwood himself had signed off on to get her out of prison. But beyond that, she didn't know what, in particular, he wanted from her, and her curiosity about it was almost as great as the feeling of uneasy wariness that came to her when she looked up into the sky and saw the Atlesian ships overhead, their great cruisers and carriers holding station while smaller, nimbler, but no less deadly airships buzzed between and beyond them.

It wasn't just residual attitudes from her White Fang days, although Blake would be lying if she pretended that wasn't part of it. It was the strangeness of the fleet being here, and being strange, it also seemed wrong in ways that Blake wasn't sure she could completely articulate. The Valish skyline wasn't meant to be taken up with such an impressive display of Atlesian military might and technological prowess. The people of Vale weren't meant to be living under the guns of an Atlesian expeditionary force.

Just like they weren't meant to be living under the threat of the White Fang, with Adam's bloodstained, blood-hurt blade hanging over the city and the kingdom both like a butcher's cleaver about to descend upon the sweet little lamb.

The world was out of joint. The much-vaunted era of peace which Professor Goodwitch had spoken once seemed less peaceful now than it had upon that airship ride to Beacon when the year began.

Yet she had spoken true when she had told them all that it was their duty to uphold this peace. The world was out of joint, but perhaps she, Blake Belladonna, had been born to set it right.

She was the daughter of Ghira Belladonna, former leader of the White Fang. And now, the organisation he had nurtured threatened to do much evil in the world. Blake felt it was not arrogance so much as a recognition of the truth to think that if she did not find a way, no one would.

This task had been appointed to her, and she took it upon herself and on her shoulders. It was... her destiny, and she chose it, embraced it as such.

But it seemed fate did not will that she should do so alone; it had appointed the Atlesians to be her companions, though they were not the ones she would have chosen.

Such thoughts preoccupied Blake as the airship carried her to General Ironwood's flagship and as a yeoman led her through the grey metallic corridors, up drab and rather dull elevators, and ushered her into the presence of the Atlesian General himself.

This was her second time in his presence, and it hadn't gotten any easier. This was General Ironwood, the enemy of the White Fang, the chief amongst their enemies. Rainbow Dash was probably right to say that he was no SDC stooge, and neither were his forces, but that didn't change the fact that they had done more damage to the White Fang than any other force or organisation in Remnant.

Her hands balled into fists by her side.

General Ironwood either didn't notice or didn't care. He sat calmly behind his desk, hands resting upon the plain metallic surface. There was, Blake noticed, very little upon the desk: a digital picture frame facing away from her, a folded up scroll. Nothing else.

General Ironwood said, "Thank you for coming, Miss Belladonna."

"Did I have a choice?" Blake asked.

"This is Vale; you always have a choice," General Ironwood replied cryptically. "But I'm glad you came. I'm glad you felt safe enough to come."

The jury was still out on that, but Blake saw no need to say so. "You wouldn't free me from prison just to lure me onto your ship so you could arrest me yourself."

"Indeed. But I am a little disappointed that I had to free you from prison in order to secure your cooperation," General Ironwood said. "You must realise that my forces can offer you far more assistance than Sunset Shimmer."

"I trust Sunset," Blake replied.

"And you can trust me," General Ironwood insisted. "We both want the same thing."

"I'm not sure what you want," Blake said softly.

General Ironwood rose to his feet, pushing his chair back as he walked to the window. The lights of his fleet burned bright above the greater multitude of beacons blazing in the city below.

"You and I both know that something is coming," General Ironwood declared. "The recent actions of the White Fang have been part of a campaign aimed at Vale. I don't know what they want or hope to accomplish, but whatever it is they're planning, Atlas will stop them." There was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation. He spoke with a certainty born of conviction. The way he spoke reminded Blake of her father, when he had been trying to convince his closest councillors to stick with him.

But her father had been lying when he spoke thus, or at least feigning the confidence he seemed to feel. Blake frowned. "Are you sure about that?"

General Ironwood turned to look at her. "The men and women I lead could accomplish anything, if properly led. I am privileged to command the finest army Remnant has ever seen. Well-armed, well-trained, and with something even more valuable than guns or training: a tradition of success. We're not accustomed to losing, Miss Belladonna, and I don't intend to start now."

"But you need my help?"

"I need your help to beat the White Fang quickly and with minimal damage or risk to Vale," General Ironwood corrected. "You know these people and how they think in ways that neither I nor anyone else under my command ever could. Of course, I realize that's why you don't trust me yet. I was your enemy until not too long ago. But I assure you that you and I are on the same side now and that I want the same things you do."

"I want to save lives," Blake said.

"So do I."

"I want to save lives on both sides," Blake declared. "I don't want to direct air strikes onto those whom I called 'comrade' until less than a year ago."

General Ironwood turned around so that he was facing her once more. "So you know where the White Fang are hiding?"

"If Adam's not stupid – and he's not – he'll have moved all his operations as soon as I left, in case I gave the locations away," Blake said.

"That would be the prudent move," General Ironwood acknowledged. "All the same, I'd like to check them out. Recon only, for now."

"'For now'?"

"If the White Fang are still there, you can't expect me to ignore it."

Blake's jaw clenched. "What are you doing here?" She demanded. "You could have just stayed in the north with your men and let Vale take care of itself. Why risk your forces so far from home?"

"Why did you leave Menagerie to join the White Fang, Miss Belladonna?" General Ironwood responded. "Why come so far from home?"

Blake looked down at the floor in embarrassment. "It was the right thing to do. The cause was too important to just do nothing."

General Ironwood nodded. "Exactly, Miss Belladonna. The preservation of the lives at stake is too important to just do nothing. Coming here was the right thing to do."

Blake looked into his eyes and found that she believed him. Or at least, she believed that he believed. "This isn't what I would have chosen," she admitted, "but now that I'm here, I'll do my best. I just hope we're not too late."

"So do I, Miss Belladonna," General Ironwood agreed, "and with your help, we won't be."

First Assignment (Rewritten)

First Assignment

“Thanks for letting us hold our strategy session in here,” Rainbow said as she led her team into the SAPR dorm room. “I know it’s going to be crowded, but hopefully, people will think that we’re just hanging out instead of talking about how we can take out the White Fang.”

“Stop the White Fang’s plans,” Blake corrected her.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “That’s what I meant to say. The point is, everyone knows we’re friends, so nobody will suspect that we’re not just here to hang out.”

“Some of us are here to hang out!” Penny declared enthusiastically. “Hi, Ruby! Hi, Pyrrha!”

“Good afternoon, Penny,” Pyrrha replied, rising from her seat by the window and bowing her head to her fellow redhead.

“Hey, Penny,” Ruby said, “do you want to plan another game of Remnant?” She gestured to the game board set up on the floor in front of her.

“I don’t really understand that game,” Penny said as Ciel closed the door behind Team RSPT.

“The rules are a little complicated,” Jaune agreed, from where he was crouched down beside Ruby, “but you’ll pick it up if you play more.”

“No, it’s not that,” Penny said. “I don’t understand the point of this game. Why do we have to fight each other? Why can’t we be friends? Wouldn’t it be more advantageous to combine our forces against the creatures of grimm?”

“In real life, sure, that’s why we’re all allies now and we don’t fight any more wars,” Jaune said.

“In an ideal world, at least,” Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune went on, “But this is just a game. It’s pretend, for fun.”

“I’m uncertain what is fun about a game so riddled with basic inaccuracies,” Ciel muttered.

“We do have some other games,” Jaune said. “We picked a few up in Vale last semester.” He reached under his bed and pulled out a small pile of game boxes. “We’ve got Compost King, which none of these guys will play with me-”

“Because it sounds really boring,” Sunset interrupted.

“How about Snakes and Ladders?” Ruby suggested. “That’s fun and simple to understand… until it becomes really frustrating.”

“I can be very patient,” said Penny proudly. “I can keep playing Battleship with Twilight for hours.”

“Games of Snakes and Ladders don’t usually take that long,” Twilight said, sounding a little relieved about that. “Do you guys mind if I play?”

“Of course not,” Ruby said as Jaune put the rest of the boxes away and took Snakes and Ladders out of its box. Ruby began to put Remnant: The Game away into its box in turn. “Does anyone else want to play?” she asked. “We have room for more than four players now. Pyrrha? Sunset?”

Pyrrha put down the book that she’d been reading. “Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll join you.”

“I’m a little more interested in spying on the plans of our Atlesian allies,” Sunset said, grinning at Rainbow Dash. “Since you’re hatching them in our room, after all.”

“I guess you’re trustworthy,” Rainbow agreed as she and Ciel sat down on Blake’s bed. Rainbow’s gaze flickered towards the camp bed. “Who has to sleep on that?”

“Me,” Sunset said.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I can be selfless sometimes,” Sunset declared. As Pyrrha, Twilight, and Penny joined Jaune and Ruby on the floor around the game board, Sunset took the window seat that Pyrrha had recently vacated. Blake sat down on Jaune’s bed, facing the two Atlesians.

“So,” Sunset said, “what do we know?”

“You do nothing but listen,” Ciel informed her sharply, “while we make our plans.”

“Sunset may not technically be involved in this,” Blake said, “but I trust her.” She didn’t say that she trusted Sunset more than she trusted any of Team RSPT, but the words were there, unspoken, hovering overhead. Blake’s ears – no longer concealed beneath any bow – twitched gently atop her head. “What do you know so far?”

“Not much,” Rainbow admitted. “We know that the White Fang are stealing dust, but we don’t know why. We know that they’re working with this Torchwick guy, but-”

“But that doesn’t make any sense; why would the White Fang be working with a human criminal, and a racist one at that?” Blake demanded.

“We don’t know that either,” Rainbow reminded her.

“We do know,” Ciel said, “thanks to your friend Tukson-”

“How’s he doing, by the way?” Sunset asked.

“I’m not sure,” Blake admitted. “I haven’t had a chance to visit him.” She hesitated. “Would I be allowed to visit him?”

“I don’t see why not,” Rainbow said. “Everyone knows you’re not a threat to his life.”

“As I was saying,” Ciel declared, “thanks to Mister Tukson, we know that the White Fang is reporting to a superior – a human, reportedly, but that has not been confirmed – outside of their organisation. We can surmise that it was this superior who brokered the arrangement between the White Fang and Roman Torchwick, although we have neither proof of that nor any clue as to the identity of this individual. Unfortunately, knowing that there is a shadowy presence who stands higher than anyone whose identity we are aware of doesn’t help us to identify that person, nor to capture the high-ranking figures we are aware of. If this person is anxious to keep their identity a secret, and the White Fang follow standard containment protocols, it’s likely that the only the most senior members of the organisation are aware of his or her identity.”

“Which is why we need to find Torchwick,” Blake said. “He’s still our best chance at unravelling the truth.”

“He’s probably taken precautions after last time,” Sunset replied. “I doubt he’ll venture into a trap unguarded.”

“Do we have any other choice?” Blake asked.

“Maybe we do. Hey, Twi!” Rainbow called. “Have you had any luck tracing the source of that video that got spammed round the school?”

Twilight had a frown on her features as she got up from the board game they were playing on the floor. “Whoever sent it, they’re very good,” she said.

Rainbow looked surprised. She leaned back on the bed until the back of her head touched the wall with a bump. “Better than you?”

“Maybe,” Twilight replied. “There’s an encryption on this file to prevent it being tracked that is… this is military-level security. I would expect to see something this complicated on top-level communications between the general and senior field commanders, or the council maybe.”

“Can you break it?” Rainbow asked.

“Not with the processing power of a scroll or a personal computer,” Twilight said.

“How about the computers on the Valiant?” Rainbow asked.

The look Twilight gave her was vaguely pitying. “I’m not sure that General Ironwood would let me take all the systems on the Valiant offline so that I can run my tracing programme. I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash, sorry, everyone, I know that-”

“It’s okay,” Sunset said. “This tells us something all by itself.”

Twilight stared at her. “It does?”

Sunset folded her hands behind her head. “I’m guessing that not anybody can get their hands on military-grade encryption programmes. That must take… money? Skill?”

“Perhaps both,” Twilight said. “The kind of person who could write this kind of code wouldn’t come cheap.”

“The White Fang never had any interest in computers or cyberwarfare when I was part of it,” Blake said. “Adam… he always preferred more… visible means of action.”

“Something our mystery person brings to the party then,” Sunset theorized.

“Perhaps,” Ciel said. “Although the White Fang has hit enough secure facilities that you must have dealt in access cards and security codes.”

“Yes, but we bought those from black market dealers,” Blake explained. “I doubt that any of them could create something as sophisticated as you're describing, and if they could, I doubt that they would have been in our price range. Sunset’s right; this is the work of the White Fang’s new… mistress, whoever she is. Either she brought in a skilled computer expert or she brought the money to hire one. The same goes for all those Bullheads at the docks; there’s no way the White Fang I left behind could have afforded so much airpower, even if it had a use for it.”

“Is this starting to confuse anybody else?” Sunset demanded. “I mean, this person, Lady X or whatever you want to call them… she has money, resources, and access to highly skilled individuals. She wants to work with the White Fang, okay, I’ll buy that, if you want to get involved in terrorism, then I guess it’s easier to seek out some terrorists than to start your own organisation. But why do they need to rob inner-city dust shops via a guy like Torchwick? If they need dust, then why not just buy it? It’s not like they care about money, because the money is never touched during the robberies.”

“If we look at the quantity of dust that has been stolen,” Ciel said, pulling out her scroll and flicking through a list, presumably of dust stolen at the various robberies. “Purchases of that size – so much greater than would be needed for any conceivable private use – would be impossible to hide completely from view. Robberies have less paperwork.”

Sunset snorted.

“We have some suppositions, based on evidence maybe, but they’re still supposition until we get confirmation,” Blake said, “and we have a lot of questions, and only Roman Torchwick can answer them for us. We need to find him.”

“No, we need to stop these robberies before even more Atlesian weapons end up in the hands of terrorists,” Rainbow said.

“'Atlesian weapons'?” Sunset asked; this was the first she’d heard of this.

“The White Fang haven’t just been robbing dust shops,” Rainbow growled. “They’ve been hitting trains coming south through the Forever Fall.”

“Interestingly, only trains carrying dust or useable military supplies have been hit,” Ciel said, scrolling to another file on her scroll. “Two dust trains, including yours,” she added with a significant look at Blake, “plus three military trains: one carrying small arms, ammunition, and spare parts for knights; one carrying heavy ordnance; and the last carrying prototypes of our new manned battlemech, the Paladin. However, another military train carrying machine parts for airships and vehicles made it through the forest unmolested, as did a mail train going the other way and various commercial trains heading in both directions carrying cargo that is not notable.”

“But the trains didn’t have ‘Atlas Military’ or even SDC written on the side; everyone contracts the same freight companies,” Rainbow said. “Which means that the only way the White Fang could possibly know which trains had dust and weapons on them and which didn’t was if somebody was tipping them off, sound okay to you?”

Blake nodded. “I don’t know exactly how we got all of our information, but I know that tips from sympathisers provided most of it.”

“But who is tipping them off?” Rainbow asked. “Have we got a mole in the military? Or the SDC?”

Blake stared at her for a moment before she let out a soft, but faintly bitter laugh.

“What?” Rainbow asked.

“You really did have a privileged upbringing, didn’t you?” Blake asked.

Rainbow’s look was only just shy of being a glare. “Okay, maybe eventually, after I met Twi, but I was born in Low Town, and I did a lot of growing up there too. Why does any of that matter, anyway?”

“The White Fang doesn’t need a mole in the Atlesian military or the SDC to tell them what’s on the trains heading out of Cold Harbour,” Blake said. “It’s a port town whose main purpose is to provide somewhere for Atlesian ships to offload onto the rail line south to Vale. Hundreds, maybe thousands of faunus work the docks and the railway yards, doing backbreaking work for poverty wages because it’s all the work they can get. They wouldn’t even need to be White Fang; as long as they knew somebody who was, it would only take one person to talk about what was loaded off the ship or loaded onto the train. Then the White Fang would know which trains were worth hitting and which weren’t.”

“Well, now that you say it like that, it makes sense,” Sunset said. She stood up. “Is there a new weapons shipment due to come through any time soon?”

“Yes,” Ciel said. “More of the prototype weapons that were recently stolen.”

Sunset smirked. “I think I know how we can beat these guys and maybe catch somebody with the answers we’re looking for.”

“How?” Blake asked.

Sunset leaned forwards. “What if there weren’t just weapons or Atlesian tech inside that train? What if we were there as well?”

A smile spread across Rainbow’s face. “An ambush.”

“All that we’d have to do is make sure that nobody saw us getting on the train,” Sunset said.

“How would the White Fang stage the robbery?” Ciel asked, looking at Blake. “How many fighters should we be looking at?”

“Not a large number,” Blake replied.

“Are you sure?” Rainbow said. “It seems like the White Fang has been going for quantity since you left.”

“But only used in situations where no resistance was expected,” Blake said. “Nobody thought there’d be a fight at the docks, and when it came to Tukson, Adam and Torchwick still came alone because that’s the White Fang way. Most of the White Fang’s new recruits are untrained; they’d get chewed up by Atlesian security mechs, even with their aura unlocked. A small number of elites will go in first and disable the train and the security, and only then will larger numbers come in to offload the spoils.”

“What’s a small number?” Ciel pressed.

Blake shrugged. “Sometimes it was just me and Adam. At other times… I’d say no more than eight.”

“But Adam might be there?” Sunset asked quietly.

Blake looked into Sunset’s eyes. “Yes. He might be there.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rainbow said. “I can handle Adam, and if I can’t, then we’ve got Penny.”

“You want to risk Penny going up against Adam?” Blake asked with a touch of incredulity in her voice.

“Penny’s tougher than she looks. But… hopefully, I can take care of that guy, and we won’t have to put her to the test that way.” Rainbow fell silent for a moment. “It’s a good idea, there’s just one problem with it.”

“What?” Sunset said.

“I’m pretty sure that General Ironwood will sign off on this for Team Rosepetal,” Rainbow said, “but how are you going to get in on this?”

“More to the point, I thought that you didn’t want anything to do with this?” Blake pointed out.

“I didn’t, but judging from what happened, it seems like ‘this’ is coming to find us no matter what,” Sunset said. “I guess that I’d rather get involved early then wait for the White Fang to blow up the school or something.”

“And are you willing to risk your team on a mission of this kind?” Blake asked solemnly. “This could be dangerous.”

Sunset nodded; Blake had a point there. They both had a point, but although Rainbow’s objection might be the more insurmountable in practical terms, it was Blake’s point that bothered her more. This would be dangerous. These White Fang elites – Adam or no – wouldn’t mess around. Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, she’d be putting them all in danger.

Or at least, she’d be asking them to go into danger.

The image of that crimson blade, of the world turning as red as blood as he charged towards her, flashed through Sunset’s mind.

She clenched her hands upon her knees so that nobody would notice them shaking.

“We’re willing to try,” Ruby said. “We’re willing to help, just like we were willing to help at the docks.”

Sunset looked around so that she could see Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha all up and on their feet, looking their way. Ruby in particular had a face that was firm with resolve; not a trace of fear or hesitation showed in her face.

“Have you guys been listening?” Sunset asked. “What about the game?”

“It’s not a complicated game; we can play and keep our ears open,” Jaune replied.

“If this is about stopping the White Fang and finding out who tried to get Blake in trouble, then we want to help any way we can,” Ruby declared. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Don’t say that; we are a team,” Sunset protested.

“Then why were you sneaking out to go and do cool stuff with Blake?” Ruby said. She pouted like a six-year-old. “Fighting the White Fang, going up against Torchwick, and all without us? That’s really rude, you know.”

“Don’t rush into anything too hastily,” Blake said, “and that goes for you too, Sunset.”

“You asked for my help,” Sunset said.

“And now I have the help of Atlas, whether I want it or not,” Blake said. “You can back out now, and no one will say anything about it.”

“No one will need to say anything,” Ruby said. “We’ll know. We’ll know that when the moment came and Vale was in danger, we shrank from the call. How could we call ourselves huntsmen in training if we did that?”

Blake smiled softly. “That’s kind and generous and… exactly what I’d expect from you, but it doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t your fight-”

“Fighting to oppose evil and defend those who cannot defend themselves is what a huntress does,” Pyrrha said. “We don’t need a personal reason to get involved.”

“Although we kinda have one anyway, through you,” Jaune added.

Ruby nodded. “You’re one of us now, Blake, and we’re with you every step of the way.”

“We would be honoured to fight by your side again in a noble cause,” Pyrrha said.

Blake stared at them, eyes wide. She glanced at Sunset. “Do these three ever make your feel-?”

“Yeah,” Sunset finished, understanding the moral implications, “it’s nearly constant.”

“This is great,” Rainbow said. “Really, I’d be glad to have you along for the ride, but you’re going to have to work out how to get in on this. In the meantime, I’ll call General Ironwood.” She got out her scroll and stood up, walking towards the bathroom as her thumbs tapped the screen of her scroll.

“Rainbow Dash,” came a gruff voice, presumably General Ironwood himself.

“Reporting, sir,” Rainbow replied, “and we think we have an idea on how to get at the White Fang.”

“I’m listening,” General Ironwood said.

“Team Rosepetal and Auxiliary Belladonna will fly to Cold Harbour and hide on the next train carrying a shipment of Paladins south to Vale,” Rainbow explained. “We’ll need to make sure nobody sees us, otherwise the White Fang won’t attack. But, if we do this right and don’t board the train until after it’s been loaded, then we can ambush the White Fang when they try to rob the train and maybe take a high profile prisoner.”

“You think the secrecy element is that important, Dash?”

“We have reason to believe that civilians working in the railway yard or harbour are informing the White Fang about the contents of rail shipments, sir,” Rainbow said, with a slight glance towards Blake. “That’s Blake’s theory, anyway.”

“I see,” General Ironwood said, in an even tone. “Very well, Dash, if you want to give this a try, I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said.

“When will you leave?”

“Uh,” Rainbow hesitated. “Maybe it would be best if we left early, so that it’s not obvious we arrived just in time to get on the train?”

“That sounds reasonable,” General Ironwood said, and Sunset realised that he was not so much curious as he was testing Rainbow, seeing if she could come up with the answers instead of being handed them from on high.

“Speaking of which,” Rainbow went on, “it might be good if we had some other reason to be in Cold Harbour.”

“I’ll speak to Ozpin and see if there are any training missions up that way that you can be assigned,” General Ironwood said, “and also inform him that Miss Belladonna will be absent from class for a few days.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said. “If we get the right mission, we’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll contact Ozpin right away,” General Ironwood said. “Good luck out there, Dash. Ironwood out.”

Rainbow put her scroll away. “Okay, if your headmaster comes through, then that’s us taken care of,” she said, as she turned back to face the rest of the assembled group. “Now, how are you guys going to get involved in this?”

“We could mail ourselves to Cold Harbour,” Ruby said.

Sunset snorted. “You might fit in a box, Ruby, but I’m not sure we could afford the postage on Pyrrha.”

“We could play truant,” suggested Jaune.

“I’d rather not break any rules if we can possibly avoid it,” Pyrrha murmured.

“If need be, we may have to ask forgiveness rather than permission, but let’s keep that in our pockets as a last resort,” Sunset replied. Apart from anything else, she wasn’t sure that Yang would take it very well if she dragged Ruby off on an unsanctioned mission.

“Perhaps you could all break the law and all get assigned to work for Atlas, like Blake,” Penny said from where she remained seated on the floor.

Ciel folded her arms. “Penny,” she said sternly, “the law is not a thing to be broken lightly and for personal, selfish reasons. It is the barrier between civilisation and barbarism and thus deserving of the utmost respect.”

Penny looked at her. “You mean my idea is bad?”

“Very bad,” Ciel declared. “I begin to worry that some of you are a bad influence.”

“None of us suggested breaking the law before she did,” Sunset pointed out.

“The suggestion of breaking school rules is bad enough,” Ciel replied with a bit of a glare at Jaune.

Jaune laughed nervously. “Sorry about that.”

“Why don’t we just talk to Professor Ozpin and ask him to allow us to participate in the operation alongside Team Rosepetal?” Pyrrha inquired mildly. “It does seem the simplest thing to do, and it wouldn’t involve breaking any rules.”

“It would involve us trusting Ozpin,” Sunset muttered.

“He’s the headmaster, Sunset, not a diabolical mastermind,” Pyrrha said.

“He could be both,” Sunset said, before her scroll and that of Rainbow Dash went off at the same time.

“It’s Professor Ozpin,” Rainbow said, looking at the humming device which was already in her hand.

It took Sunset a moment longer to get out her scroll and find that she, too, was receiving a call from Professor Ozpin.

The two team leaders exchanged a silent glance before opening up their devices.

“Good afternoon, Miss Shimmer, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin said genially, looking up at the two of them from out of the screens of their respective scrolls, even as Rainbow’s face appeared on the other half of Sunset’s screen. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but it seemed simpler to just give you a call than to drag you all the way up to my office.”

“Thank you for the consideration, sir,” Rainbow said, and Sunset was reminded to put her on mute by the echo from her scroll.

“What can we do for you, Professor?” Sunset asked guardedly.

“Miss Dash, I’ve just been speaking with General Ironwood,” Professor Ozpin said, ignoring Sunset for a moment, “and he mentioned that you were interested in a mission to the north, around Cold Harbour.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“As it happens, there is a training mission available in that region,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It seems that a concentration of grimm has been developing nearby, and the authorities have requested a search and destroy to deal with them. You would have to leave tomorrow, but-“

“We’ll take it, sir,” Rainbow said, “and we’ll be taking Blake with us.”

“Indeed, General Ironwood mentioned that also,” Professor Ozpin said blandly, giving no clue as to what he thought about it. “Now, Miss Shimmer, as it happens, I also have a mission for Team Sapphire which I think might afford you some valuable experience.”

Sunset glanced at her team, but mostly, it was her words from a moment earlier that stuck in Sunset’s head as she said, “We’re certainly willing to consider it, Professor. What kind of mission is it?”

“I’ll send the full details to your scroll, Miss Shimmer, but in summary: the railway line that runs through the Forever Fall forest has been damaged by recent criminal activity; since that line is the main shipment route for dust out of Atlas, it is intolerable that it should be allowed to remain out of action for long, but equally, since the Forever Fall forest is infested with the creatures of grimm, the business of repairing it is somewhat dangerous. Your assignment will be to board a train heading north with a party of engineers and all necessary equipment and protect them while they complete their repairs. Once that’s done, I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own way home, using your best judgement as to how you might or should accomplish that.”

Sunset fought to keep her face impassive, because Professor Ozpin couldn’t have offered them a more convenient mission if she’d planned it herself, and it was far too convenient to be mere coincidence, wasn’t it? She might not have been so suspicious, but after the way that he had behaved last semester… and the warning from Yang’s mom, and the team make-up, and it was all just starting to stack up. What are you up to, old man?

And why are you so interested in what we do?

Nevertheless, regardless of the headmaster’s exact motives, the fact was that it was a convenient mission. They could complete it, stay on the train the rest of the way to Cold Harbour, link up with RSPT and stow themselves on board the armaments train heading back to Vale in time to ambush the White Fang when they showed up for the robbery.

Another quick look at her teammates confirmed that they were of like mind with her.

Just because you’re seeking to use us doesn’t mean we can’t use you at the same time.

“We’re in, Professor,” Sunset said.

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Professor Ozpin said. “I’ll send you both the mission details so you can accept them. I would warn you that the enemies you will encounter beyond this school will not care that you are only children… but then, you already knew that, didn’t you? So I’ll just wish you the best of luck and a safe return.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The substance of this chapter remains the same, with only the setting moved from the library to the dorm room and a few other little details changed.

Northward Bound (New)

Northward Bound

The Atlesian Skyray carried the reinforced Team RSPT north from Beacon and from Vale proper, soaring over the Forever Fall Forest and beyond, towards the port of Cold Harbour.

Rainbow Dash was at the controls, with Twilight in the co-pilot’s seat. Ciel stood in the main passenger section, her large anti-material rifle resting against the wall, while another, more man-sized weapon was slung across her back.

Blake faced her, standing on the other side of the compartment, her hands idle. Despite the fact that Ciel was reading a magazine and Penny a book, nevertheless, Blake wasn’t sure what it would do for the Atlesian opinion of her if she were to do the same; she wasn’t ready to say for certain that they wouldn’t be hypocrites about the whole thing and take her to task for doing as they did.

Her attention was drawn to the magazine in Ciel’s hands; it was a bridal fashion magazine, with a woman in a billowing, voluminous white dress upon the cover.

“Are congratulations in order?” Blake asked.

Ciel’s gaze flickered up to take in Blake as she turned a page in her magazine. “No,” she said firmly. “Not for me, in any event, unless you wish to congratulate Bruno Hohenzollern upon his engagement to Miss Meghan Chotek. There is a feature of several pages upon their forthcoming nuptials.”

“Meghan… she’s an actress, isn’t she?” Blake ventured.

“Indeed, and he is a motorcycle racer,” Ciel confirmed, “and the heir to the claimant to the defunct throne of Mantle, but that is of little concern.”

“Is it?” Blake asked.

Ciel’s eyes flickered up to look at her again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is it really of little concern, or is it the only reason anyone cares that he’s getting married?” Blake explained. “Is it like Pyrrha where she’d still be famous for her skill and the royal connection is just one more thing for people to talk about, or is it more like… I suppose what I’m asking is if he’s any good as a racer.”

“Then I suggest you ask someone with more familiarity with the sport,” Ciel replied. “All I know is that he is considered notable enough that a considerable quantity of page space is devoted to him, alongside his wife, with whose work I am a little more familiar. Did you ever see Frozen Harvest?”

“No.”

“You should,” Ciel informed her. “A heartbreaking portrayal of life on the home front during the Great War; Miss Chotek played a young bride struggling to maintain her farm outside Canterlot while her husband was away at war. A stellar performance; she was robbed at the awards by some silly musical.”

Twilight looked around in her seat. “Are you talking about Edelweiss? Because there was nothing silly about that movie. It dealt with the tyranny of Mantle before and during the Great War-”

“Through the medium of rather mawkish songs,” Ciel retorted.

“There’s nothing wrong with sentimentality,” Twilight insisted. “Even if it is being used to sugar over some uncomfortable truths. Not to mention that nobody even realised Coloratura could act until she made that movie.”

“Her acting, such as it was, bore no comparison to the portrayal of courage and resilience under pressure given by Miss Chotek,” Ciel declared. “All the best Atlesian values were on display in that film, and the Academy snubbed them all.”

“Well, maybe,” Twilight conceded, “but they don’t give films awards just for how patriotic they are.”

“That way lies the road of Mantle and the Great War,” Blake murmured.

Ciel’s gaze sharpened noticeably. “I am proud of my kingdom,” she said. “I am proud of what it stands for, the values that it embodies; that does not mean I want to see the return of a despotic tyranny.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry,” Blake said. “I… have a little bit of an issue where I rush to judgement sometimes.” I should probably work on that, with how often it keeps getting me into trouble.

Ciel did not reply but returned her attention to her bridal magazine.

“So,” Blake went on, hoping to end the conversation on a smoother note, “why are you reading a wedding magazine?”

“I like the dress styles,” Ciel said candidly. “Styles that are, unfortunately, rather out of fashion in most circumstances. A wedding is one of the few occasions outside of a fancy dress event when one can get away with wearing a ballgown.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Would you want to wear a ballgown in other circumstances?”

“I find them… rather lovely to look upon,” Ciel admitted.

“That isn’t the same thing as wearing them,” Blake pointed out. “Aren’t they… awkward?”

“Not once one gets used to them,” Ciel replied.

“And have you?” Blake asked. “Gotten used to them, I mean.”

Ciel turned another page in her magazine. “Not as much as I might like.”

Huh. That’s not something I expected to find out about her. Blake’s gaze descended, as well as moving sideways, to fall on Penny, who was sitting on the floor reading the assigned Fairy Tales of Remnant textbook for Legends class.

Homework, I suppose.

“Hey, Blake,” Rainbow called from the cockpit. “Do you know how to fly an airship?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve flown Bullheads a couple of times.”

“Come up here a second and relieve Twilight,” Rainbow told her. “I want to have a word with you.”

Blake frowned, but judging by the quiet smile on Twilight’s face as the latter got up from her seat in the cockpit, she wasn’t in any trouble. Blake silently walked to the cockpit, brushing past Twilight as she did so, and sat down in the now vacated copilot’s seat.

“I didn’t mean to bait Ciel,” she said. “I just-”

“Ciel’s a big girl; she can handle it,” Rainbow assured her. “That’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Oh,” Blake said softly. “Then… what?”

Rainbow didn’t reply right away. She gripped the controls tightly with both hands as she guided the airship along. “I’ve never been to Cold Harbour, so I don’t know exactly what it will be like there,” she said after a moment. She spoke softly, and Blake would have been surprised if her voice carried very far beyond the cockpit. “But before we arrive, I’m going to tell you something that the General told me once. Not every officer we run into is going to… some officers might-”

“Be racist jerks?” Blake suggested.

Rainbow shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I was going to say they might not mind their manners,” she replied. “So we have to mind ours, okay?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me to put up with abuse from bigoted-”

“You could always put the bow back on?” Rainbow suggested.

“Passing for human isn’t much of a better alternative than bearing insults,” Blake snapped.

“What are you going to do, yell at them?” Rainbow demanded.

“Maybe,” Blake said. “It can’t be worse than just standing still and taking it like you’re proposing.” She breathed in deeply. “When I first met you, I thought that you were just like Ilia, someone who had learned to keep quiet in the face of racism from your friends and your teammates. A suggestion that you found insulting.”

“Because it was!”

“But you’re telling me to do exactly that!” Blake cried.

“Not from your friends,” Rainbow corrected. “Only from superior officers.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re superior officers,” Rainbow said, as though that explained everything. “You can’t do anything about them, so you might as well… nobody is going to promote anyone, faunus or otherwise, who acts like a brat.”

“I’m not an Atlas soldier; I don’t care about my career,” Blake said.

“Not yet you don’t,” Rainbow muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blake asked.

“It means… the system won’t get any better if good people give up on it,” Rainbow said. “If you walk away because things aren’t perfect, then you leave it to people who just want to make things worse.”

“And keeping quiet in the face of injustice isn’t going to make things any better,” Blake insisted. “Why do you think that so many faunus are willing to talk to the White Fang about what’s on your trains? Because their conditions are bad, and they don’t see them improving any time soon.”

“And how is killing people going to get them better wages or healthcare or anything else?!” Rainbow snapped.

“How long are they going to have to wait for people like you to climb sufficiently high that you can start to make changes?” Blake countered.

“Considering that Cold Harbour is, at the end of the day, a Valish port, then perhaps they should look to someone other than Rainbow Dash,” Ciel observed from behind them. “And yes, we can hear you.”

Rainbow winced.

“Why are you two fighting?” Penny asked.

“Because… because there are no right answers, Penny,” Blake said, softly and sadly. “Much as I wish it wasn’t so.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “I… I know that you believe that you’re doing the right thing, and that your way is the best way. I’m just not sure I agree with you. But I shouldn’t… it doesn’t have to make us enemies.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rainbow said. “The fact that you care… it’s one of the things I like about you. You’ve got a lot to give to a cause, if you could only find the right one.”

Blake snorted. “Like what? Atlas?”

“Is something wrong with that?” Rainbow replied.

“I don’t know; you’re the one who warned me that the officers were racist.”

“And I’m regretting it more and more ever since,” Rainbow muttered. “I don’t know who the commander at Cold Harbour is, I don’t know how they feel about faunus, I’m just saying… ah, forget it.” She looked at the instruments in front of her. “That’s weird,” she muttered.

“What?” Blake said, looking at where Rainbow was tapping the console. She wasn’t entirely familiar with the controls of a Skyray, but she thought that Rainbow was looking at the fuel gauge.

“We’re using more fuel than we ought to be,” Rainbow said.

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it’s a problem because I only fuelled up with the bare minimum to get us to Cold Harbour because I’m an idiot, and this is baby’s first field trip, no, it’s not a problem!” Rainbow snapped. “But it’s weird, and it might become a problem if there’s something wrong with the airship.” Her frown deepened. “I did a complete check last night. I did an external check this morning, and I didn’t spot a leak. Twilight, take the controls.”

“Is something wrong?” Twilight asked.

“I hope not,” Rainbow said softly. “I’m going to take a look in the trunk and see if I can see a problem. If not… I don’t want to land if we can avoid it; we’ll make it to Cold Harbour as we are and let the base mechanics figure it out.”

“Okay,” Twilight said as Blake got out of her seat and allowed Twilight to squeeze past her to retake the controls of the airship. “I just need to hold her steady, right?”

“Right,” Rainbow agreed. “Do you have control?”

Twilight’s grip on the controls tightened. “I have control.”

Rainbow nodded and patted Twilight on the shoulder as she got up and left the cockpit.

Blake leaned down so that her head was just about level with Twilight. “Nervous?”

“Not really,” Twilight replied. “I’m just not quite as good a flyer as Rainbow Dash. But I’m just flying straight and level, and anyone can do that, right?”

“Not anyone,” Blake said, “but you seem to be doing fine.”

Twilight looked up at her, a smile on her face, before she remembered that she should be keeping her eyes on the outside and turned away with a squeak of alarm.

Meanwhile, Rainbow had knelt down on the floor of the central passenger compartment and started to open up the maintenance hatch in the floor, which would expose some, at least, of the inner workings of the airship.

Rainbow threw open the hatch, revealing-

“Hey guys!”

“Sun!” Blake yelled, as the open hatch revealed her boyfriend stowed away inside.

Sun grinned at her. “Hi Blake. Nice to-” his words stopped, transformed into a squawk of alarm as Rainbow grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him out of the crawlspace.

“I guess now we know why the fuel consumption was higher than it should have been,” Rainbow said. “We were carrying extra weight.”

“Hey! This is all muscle.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“It seemed like-”

“Like a good idea at the time,” Blake groaned. She rested her fingertips upon her forehead, her hand covering her face as she shook her head. “Please tell me that you didn’t stow away aboard this airship because of me.”

“I could tell you that, but I would be lying,” Sun admitted.

“Oh, come on,” Rainbow snapped. “Do you honestly expect us to believe that? Do you really expect us to believe that you are that stupid that you would…” She trailed off. “Okay, you’re right, I can absolutely believe that coming from you.”

“Believe what?” Penny asked. “Hello, Sun. I didn’t know you were joining us.”

“He wasn’t supposed to,” Ciel said.

“I just thought… I just wanted to be here in case Blake needed any help,” Sun said, turning an almost pleading gaze towards Blake.

“Blake’s got us to help her out,” Rainbow said, putting Sun back down on the floor of the Skyray, “but I suppose it’s kind of sweet that you care so much.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Blake muttered.

“Have you considered taking out a restraining order?” Ciel asked.

Blake’s hand descended from her face so that she could get a better look at the other girl. There was no sign on her face that she was anything less than sincere. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Blake said. “Although a stern talking-to might be in order.”

“So would a decision on what we’re going to do now,” Twilight said from the cockpit. “Hi, Sun.”

“Hey, Twilight, how’s it hanging?”

“Well, the airship is still hanging in the sky, so that’s a pretty good thing from where I’m sitting.”

“What do you mean, Twi?” Rainbow asked. “We don’t need to think about what we’re going to do now because the mission hasn’t changed. We continue on to Cold Harbour.”

“With Sun?” Twilight asked.

“You don’t want me to throw him out of the airship, do you?”

“Of course not!” Twilight cried. “But perhaps we should head back to Beacon-“

“We’ll lose too much time if we have to go all the way back to school,” Rainbow replied. “Not to mention having to explain to the General why we came back. I swear, if we did that and Neon found out, she wouldn’t let me live it down.”

“So we are bringing this stowaway with us for the sake of your face?” Ciel demanded, her voice dripping with disapproval.

“We’re bringing Sun with us because we don’t have time to keep doubling back,” Rainbow replied, “and besides, if we dropped him off, he’d probably climb onto the roof and cling on as we were taking off, wouldn’t you?”

“That or grab hold of the tail maybe,” Sun said lightly. His own tail snaked up behind his head and waved jauntily as he said it.

“Are you sure this behaviour should be encouraged?” Ciel asked.

“I think caring about others should totally be encouraged,” Rainbow replied. “What kind of a world would it be if we didn’t care, huh?”

Ciel didn’t reply; nor, however, did she look particularly mollified either.

“Welcome to the team, Sun,” Rainbow said, patting Sun on the back hard enough to stagger him.

“Yeah, the team,” Sun agreed. “The team that is… doing what exactly?”

“You stowed away without even knowing whither we were bound or upon what purpose?” Ciel said.

“I knew Blake was going,” Sun offered.

Ciel sighed in exasperation. “Are we certain that he isn’t a spy?”

“Do you seriously think he’s a spy?” Rainbow asked.

Ciel was silent for a moment. “No,” she admitted.

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me what we’re doing here?” Sun asked.

“We’re going to ambush the White Fang!” Penny announced.

“Great!” Sun cried. “I can’t wait to get back at that Adam creep.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Blake snapped. “Don’t talk like that, even if you don’t mean it. Adam… Adam’s nothing to joke about. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s run away from me twice,” Rainbow pointed out. “Admittedly, I am pretty awesome, but-”

“You got lucky,” Blake said.

“I did not get lucky; I got trained,” Rainbow insisted. “Trained to take on guys like him, no matter how tough they are.”

“In any event,” Ciel said, “the settling of accounts with Adam Taurus will have to wait. Initially, we will land at Cold Harbour; for the benefit of the uneducated,” – she shot a glance at Sun – “I will explain that Cold Harbour is a port town north of Vale and a major demarcation point for shipments by sea or air coming down out of Atlas. Once we arrive, we will carry out a Search and Destroy mission in the wilds beyond the town before rendezvousing with Team Sapphire for a return to Vale by train which will, with good fortune, come under attack by the White Fang, enabling us to ambush them.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” Sun said.

“Yes,” Ciel replied. “Yes, we have.”

“I should get back to the controls,” Rainbow said, patting Sun lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, but one more thing: next time you want to come along on our missions with Blake? Just ask, okay?” She winked at him, then resumed her seat up in the cockpit.

Blake rolled her eyes. Really? Should a good Atlesian cadet really be encouraging this kind of behaviour?

Sun laughed nervously. “Hey, Blake,” he said. “I… I’m gonna be honest, I kind of wish that there was a little more privacy for this. I don’t suppose that-“

“No,” Blake said. “No, it can’t wait until we land. You need to explain yourself, now.”

“I mean… what’s there to explain?” Sun asked. “I knew that you were going on this mission with these Atlas guys, so when Rainbow Dash had finished checking the airship last night, I snuck on board and hid in the crawlspace.”

“That was dangerous,” Blake cried. “What if you’d got the wrong airship? What if we hadn’t let you out?” As a child, she had been fascinated by the urban legend of the Bride in the Oak Chest, the young girl who, playing a game of hide and seek upon her wedding day, had locked herself inside an old oak chest and slowly suffocated to death as the box muffled all her screams for help, her hiding place so well chosen that it went undiscovered for years until nought but remained but a mouldering skeleton in a wedding dress.

“You would have heard me call for help,” Sun replied. “Or I could have broken through that hatch, probably.”

“What I would like to know,” Ciel said, “is how you got into the airship once Rainbow Dash had completed her examination. The doors should have been locked.”

“They were,” Sun said. “Sunset helped me get them open.”

“Sunset!” Blake exclaimed.

“Sunset Shimmer can crack electronic locks?” Ciel asked, sounding surprised in spite of herself.

“Apparently, she can do all kinds of things,” Sun said.

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured.

“What are you doing here, Sun?” Blake asked. “What about your team?”

“They’ll be fine without me,” Sun assured her. “They probably won’t get any missions while there are only three of them.”

“There aren’t supposed to be only three of them,” Blake shouted. “If you keep running off like this, then they’re going to make someone else Team Leader.”

“So?” Sun replied. “If Scarlet wants the job so badly, he can have it. I’ve got something more important than a badge.” He reached out towards Blake, but as his fingertips touched her arms, she squirmed, and he drew back. “Or maybe I don’t.”

“What are you doing here, Sun?” Blake asked again.

Sun’s hands fell down by his sides. “I said I wasn’t going to apologise for caring about you.”

“This isn’t the same as last time,” Blake declared. “I’m not on my own any more; I’m not even just with Sunset. I have Team Rosepetal with me-“

“So you don’t need me,” Sun finished.

“That’s not really what I…” Blake trailed off, because it kind of was what she’d meant. “I just… there was no need for you to abandon your team and stow away aboard an airship to protect me. As you can see, I’m not doing anything stupid this time.”

“Which is good, because doing stupid stuff is supposed to be my job,” Sun said, flashing his teeth at her.

Blake covered her mouth as a slight chuckle escaped it. “You shouldn’t have come,” she said.

“Why not? The more the merrier, right?”

“I suppose, but…” Blake hesitated. “Are you really going to keep neglecting your own team, your own life, just to keep chasing after me?”

“Are you going to keep putting your life on hold to fight the White Fang?”

“Right now, fighting the White Fang is my life,” Blake said.

“Then it’s mine too,” Sun said. “Because you’re my life.”

“Fighting humanity is my life, Blake.”

“Then it’s mine, too, Adam, because you’re my life, and your cause is mine.”

“Sun,” Blake murmured. “I can’t…”

“Can’t?” Sun repeated. “Can’t what?”

I’m not Adam. I’m not Adam, and Sun isn’t me.

“Nothing,” Blake said. “What you did, coming here, was stupid and reckless and unnecessary… which I guess is why I like you so much.”

Sun took a step closer to her. “Maybe your impulsive side is rubbing off on me.”

“Now kiss!” Penny cried.

“Penny,” Ciel admonished as Sun and Blake drew back, embarrassed looks appearing on their faces. “Ladies do not blurt out such things, nor interrupt other peoples’ tender moments. That said, please do not kiss.” She reopened her magazine.

“Oh, hey, congratulations,” Sun said. “Are you getting married?”

“No,” Ciel said firmly. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?”

And the airship flew on towards Cold Harbour.

Cold Harbour (New)

Cold Harbour

Cold Harbour seemed a very miserable place.

The Skyray came in from the south, passing over a thin metal wall that formed the barrier between the town and the outside world, a barrier that was topped with an allure patrolled by a few Atlesian soldiers and dotted with twin gun turrets, some pointing outwards across the flat and featureless landscape surrounding the settlement, while others pointed upwards towards the sky. There didn’t seem to be any difference in the type of gun, so Blake, looking out of the cockpit window, guessed that they were dual-purpose and capable of serving a conventional or anti-air role. The land all around Cold Harbour was green but uncultivated, with no farms or orchards or estates in evidence; it had been thus, ever since they had cleared this part of the Forever Fall Forest, but upon occasion, they had caught sight of a herd of sheep or goats below, kept together by attentive hounds lest they wander off into the woods. Grimm would not harm them there, but real wolves would, without doubt, and bears too, if the grimm hadn’t killed them all in clashes over territory. Blake was reminded of Ruby’s book, The Song of Olivia, and how the heroine’s journey had begun when she had wandered into the woods in search of a lost lamb and found a grimm – and a wizard – instead.

It was more pleasant to think of such things than to pay attention to the town in front of her. There were gates set in the metal rampart that could be opened to allow trains to come in or out or closed if any grimm wandered too near. There were eight sets of railway tracks all coming from the same direction – there must have been times, even if it was not so now, when a great quantity of cargo travelled south from Cold Harbour to Vale – the docks, too, were large enough to suggest that this was, or had been, a prosperous port, for they were wide enough to accommodate the largest of cargo vessels, and two great ships were berthed there, being attended to by cranes which hauled containers off the decks of one ship, and reached deep into the belly of another. Yet the wealth of Cold Harbour was clearly not staying in Cold Harbour, but passing through the port and down the rails or overseas to line the pockets of men like Jacques Schnee far away; aside from a few large and spacious official-looking buildings, the ordinary houses of the workers seemed small, and cramped, and not all that well-built: rows of crumbling brick terraces sat jammed together beside the railway tracks, sitting upon streets too narrow for cars to traverse. The thoroughfares between the docks and the rail yards were wide enough to accommodate the largest of transport, but the common labourers had to walk. There were some larger houses on the other side of town, the largest of which even had their own gardens; Blake guessed that they belonged to the management and perhaps to the civilian authorities who oversaw Cold Harbour.

The sea was dark, so dark that anything could have been moving within its depths and Blake would not have seen it, yet no defences pointed out to sea and no craft patrolled it.

It was getting dark in the sky too; the sun was beginning to set beneath the mountains to the east, and the shadows were lengthening with every passing moment.

Rainbow set the Skyray down behind the Atlesian military base, one of the more impressive structures in the town, with walls that were clad in a white material with a ridged structure to it. The flags of Atlas and Vale fluttered together on the roof in the chill wind that assailed them as soon as the door upon the right-hand side of the airship opened to let them out. It was not a high wind, but it blew through Blake’s long, black hair nevertheless, and nipped at her face with the frigidness of it. A few other Skyrays and Skygraspers lay parked upon the landing ground, while soldiers patrolled, traces of blue upon their uniforms visible beneath their armour. As Blake, Sun, and the Atlesians dismounted, a couple of technicians in white uniforms headed towards the craft.

This was not Rainbow Dash’s own Skyray, but a standard model that had been assigned to her for this mission. The nature of their return to Vale meant the airship would be left here, perhaps to be flown back or possibly used for other purposes, and so, everyone grabbed all of their gear as they headed out, leaving the craft behind.

Rainbow Dash led them across the landing area, up a set of metal steps to a set of automatic doors that slid open before them, revealing a plain, white, well-lit lobby where two guards watched them carefully, and a burly rabbit faunus sergeant, his black hair rising in tufts between his lapine ears, sat behind a desk.

He looked up as the young huntsmen approached.

Rainbow stopped in front of the desk and produced her scroll. “Cadet Rainbow Dash, leader of Team Rosepetal; we’d like to speak to the commanding officer.”

The sergeant looked at the information on Rainbow’s scroll. “Right. Captain Sandleford is expecting you. Follow me.”

He got up from behind the desk – he was bigger than Blake had expected, almost as big as Woundwort – and led the six students down a long, white, sterile corridor, around one corner and then another, past what looked like a cafeteria of some kind, and finally into a moderate-sized office where a young man with hazel-brown hair, dressed in the whites of an Atlesian officer, was leaning over a table with a map of the region spread out across it.

The sergeant walked into the office and stood to attention. “Cadet Rainbow Dash and Team Rosepetal to see you, sir.”

The officer looked up. He had sharp features, high cheekbones, and eyes that matched his hair. “Ah! Capital! First class, thank you, Colour.” He walked around the table towards the students, specifically towards Rainbow Dash. “Now, judging by the look of you, I’d guess that you are Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow stood to attention. “Yes, sir. Cadet Rainbow Dash reporting. These are my team: Cadets Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle, also Blake Belladonna and Sun Wukong.”

“Splendid. Good show; Captain Hazel Sandleford at your service, and you’ve already met Colour Sergeant Blackberry, without whom absolutely nothing would get done around here, isn’t that right, Sergeant?”

The sergeant – Colour Sergeant, which Blake guessed was better than an ordinary sergeant - kept a politic silence, except to say, “Sir,” in a tone which could have meant absolutely everything – or nothing at all.

“General Ironwood sent word that you’d be coming,” Captain Sandleford said. “I must say, when I was assigned to this post, I never imagined there would come a time when the General would be just down the railway line with half the fleet.” His eyes swept over them. “What do you think is going to happen down there in Vale?”

“Nothing, sir, if we can help it,” Rainbow said.

Captain Sandleford let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, indeed. Good show, good show. Yes, I’m aware that you have other business to attend to, but I’m told that you’re also here to take care of my little problem with the grimm. Would you like some coffee?” he asked abruptly, gesturing to a machine in a little alcove in the wall. “I’m afraid it’s only instant, but you probably had a long journey getting here.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ciel said. “I will take care of it. And one for yourself?”

“Much obliged, Cadet-”

“Soleil, sir, Ciel Soleil.”

Captain Sandleford nodded. “Thank you, Cadet Soleil.”

“Colour Sergeant?”

“No, thanks, Cadet.”

Ciel started to approach the machine. She looked over her shoulder. “Everyone?”

“Thank you,” Blake murmured.

“Me too, thanks,” Twilight agreed.

“No, thank you,” Penny said.

“I’m okay,” Sun replied.

“No thanks,” Rainbow said.

“Very well,” Ciel said, as she crossed the remaining distance to the machine.

“You said ‘your problem,’” Blake said, returning her attention to the captain. “Does that mean you’re the one who requested a Search and Destroy mission? Uh, sir.”

Captain Sandleford looked at her. “The Mayor of Cold Harbour doesn’t believe that the grimm pose any threat to the town itself and, therefore, hiring a huntsman is a waste of lien. I disagree.”

“You think that the grimm might break through the walls, sir?” Rainbow said. “How many of them are there?”

“You misunderstand me,” Captain Sandleford said, returning to his map and gesturing for them all to come closer. They did, and there, they paused for a moment as Ciel worked the white plastic coffee machine, until after a few moments, she returned with several disposable cups, which she handed to the captain and the students. Blake sipped hers. The taste was… not brilliant, but it was warm and wet, and that was enough after a flight lasting all day. She probably wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Captain Sandleford blew on his coffee before he drank it. “As I was saying,” he said, “you misunderstand. I don’t believe the grimm are going to break through the walls and destroy Cold Harbour. If I did, I wouldn’t have simply put up a job on the board; I’d be screaming to the General for reinforcements.” He smiled. “We’re not excessively well-garrisoned here; I command a company of riflemen and an artillery company to man the turrets, but those turrets should be sufficient to take anything short of a large horde that comes sniffing around here. But I don’t have the strength to project force beyond the walls, which is the issue. There are always a few grimm around, but recently…” – he drank some more coffee – “recently, a group of families left the town. Labourers, for the most part, from the docks and the railyards, and their families; a few clerks and the like.” He looked up at Blake, and then at Sun. “All faunus. I’m afraid they felt… underappreciated. I can’t say I blame them. All the support staff here on the base are paid a fair wage for their labour, but I can’t say that all the companies based here do the same. In any event, these fellows left, and they are camped a few miles to the south east, in this hollow here.” He pointed to a point on the map, what looked like a valley in some woods nearby the town. “There’s a spring there, so they have fresh water, and I suppose they must be foraging for food. I’m not sure what they intend to do next, but I’m worried the grimm will get them before they make up their minds.” He paused. “Sentries on the wall heard shooting last night. I led out a patrol in the morning and found a local shepherd and his three sons dead. I tried to persuade the faunus to come back inside the walls, but they refused. If you could deal with the grimm, then they’d be much safer, and I’d rest much easier.”

“We’ll head out first thing in the morning and take care of it, sir,” Rainbow said.

“Splendid,” Captain Sandleford said. “Colour Sergeant Blackberry will show you to your billet. Dismissed.”

Rainbow saluted. “Thank you, sir.”

“Follow me, cadets,” said Colour Blackberry before he led them to a plain and unadorned room with eight bunk beds, all made up ready for them.

“Showers are three doors to the right, the mess is just down the hall,” he explained, “and there should still be some hot meals left if you get in there quick.”

“Thank you, Colour Sergeant,” Rainbow said.

"Sergeant, uh, Colour Sergeant," Blake said. "Can I ask you something… why does Captain Sandleford care about a group of faunus who have already walked away from this town?"

Colour Sergeant Blackberry's eyes flickered up to take in Blake's feline ears. "I know what you were probably expecting, and there's some in this army who would have lived down to 'em, but the captain is an officer and a gentleman; he cares about fellows for more than he gets out of them."

"I… see," Blake murmured.

The Colour Sergeant nodded. "Captain Sandleford has requested a specialist be assigned to the base three times already; never gets any response. I suppose we aren't important enough, but I'm glad we've got you for a few days, at least."

"We'll take care of it, Colour," Rainbow declared. "You can count on us."

Colour Sergeant Blackberry smiled before taking his leave.

Blake's left hand went to her other arm, feeling the cold of her silver armband beneath her fingers. "I… am glad you were wrong," she said, with a glance at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow grinned. "I'm glad I was wrong too," she replied.

"You were surprised by the character of the commanding officer?" Ciel demanded. "Both of you?"

"Not surprised, exactly," Rainbow said. "It was more like…. I was prepared for the worst."

"What do you mean?" Penny asked.

Rainbow winced. "I was afraid that… I thought it was possible that the commanding officer might be…"

"Racist," Blake said flatly.

"I was trying to put it tactfully!"

"And I was being honest," Blake replied.

Penny frowned. "I don't understand," she murmured. "Why would anyone want to be cruel to people like Rainbow Dash when they're such good people? It doesn't make any sense."

"No, it doesn't, Penny; that's why it's so…" Rainbow trailed off. "What's that word beginning with 'I'?"

"'Invidious'?" Twilight suggested.

"Probably."

"It's because we're different, Penny," Blake said, even as she wondered how Penny – how anyone – could possibly be so sheltered and naïve that they didn't understand this yet. "We're different from them, and it makes them uncomfortable, and so, they'd like to see us gone because they think it will make them feel more comfortable."

Penny bowed her head. "So… people hate things that are different from them."

"Some do," Ciel admitted, "but few in number, thankfully. Atlas, admittedly, has a reputation for… possessing such people in greater than usual numbers, perhaps even for producing them. Like much else that is said abroad of Atlas it does disservice to the many good and valiant servants of our kingdom who have nothing but goodwill for all the folk of Remnant who have been placed in our charge."

"Anyway," Rainbow said, "it's been a long day, a long flight; why don't we get something to eat while it's still warm?"

"You go," Penny said, turning away. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?" Twilight asked.

"Yes," Penny said firmly, taking a step away from the others. "You go on."

"Penny, are you okay?" Rainbow asked.

"I'm fine!" Penny declared, in the petulant tone of one who is not fine but doesn't want to admit what the problem is. She covered her mouth as a hiccup escaped her.

Rainbow frowned. "Ciel, take Blake and Sun down to the mess hall. Bring us back some sandwiches when you're done."

Ciel hesitated for a moment. "Very well," she said. "Both of you, please follow me. And don't get lost."

Twilight watched as Penny slumped down upon one of the bottom bunks of the beds that filled up the room. Her hands were clasped together on her lap, and her head was bowed.

Twilight walked around the bed and sat down beside her. Penny didn’t look up or react to her presence at all.

Rainbow stood over her, one arm leaning against the grey metallic bed frame.

“Penny,” Twilight said gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Penny said before she hiccupped.

“Penny,” Rainbow said reproachfully.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Penny insisted.

“Tough.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight hissed.

“What?” Rainbow demanded. “Penny, we’re not leaving this room until you tell us what’s up.”

“Why?” Penny asked. “Why do you care?”

Twilight placed one hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Because we care about you, Penny.”

“Why?” Penny repeated.

Twilight frowned. “Why… do we care?”

Penny glanced at her, her head nodding a sharp, jerky motion. “I’m not like you,” she admitted, her voice quiet and soft and childlike. “Doesn’t that mean… do I make you uncomfortable?”

“Oh, gods, is this about what Blake said?” Rainbow cried.

“Blake said that people hate things that aren’t like them.”

“Don’t listen to Blake!” Rainbow snapped. “Blake’s an idiot!”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Twilight asked.

“If I were to make a list of all the dumb things Blake has done, we’d be here all night,” Rainbow replied.

“I suppose… she has made a lot of unwise choices.”

“And she can’t open her mouth without sticking her boot in it,” Rainbow added. “I like that girl in spite of herself, but she’s got a lot to learn.” She knelt down on the ground so that she was beneath Penny looking up into her face. “Just like you, Penny; you’ve got to learn when to not take any notice of people.”

“But if Blake was lying, or if she was wrong, then why do people hate the faunus?” Penny asked.

Rainbow’s jaw twisted, her mouth lapping over her bottom teeth. “Blake… wasn’t wrong, exactly; it’s just that… if you listen to her, you’d think that things are a lot worse than they are, that a lot more people feel that way than actually do.”

“Most people across Remnant are accepting of diversity,” Twilight added. “Like me and Rainbow Dash, and the rest of our friends; we’re human, and Rainbow Dash is a faunus, but it doesn’t stop us from loving her as one of us, as the soul of all of us.” She smiled gently and placed an arm around Penny, drawing her into an embrace. “Now, why don’t you say what’s really bothering you?”

Penny placed her hands on Twilight’s arm. “Don’t you know?”

“I think so,” Twilight admitted, “but it’s important to confess our fears before we can face them, and if we confess them to our friends, then they can help us move forward.”

“Friends,” Penny murmured. “How do I know that my friends… that Ruby and Pyrrha… how do I know that they’ll accept me if they find out what I am? How do I know that they won’t… what if I make them uncomfortable?”

“You won’t,” Twilight reassured.

“But how do I know I won’t?” Penny demanded.

“You don’t,” Rainbow said bluntly. “You can’t be sure in advance, not unless your semblance is to read minds. When I first went to Canterlot, I had no idea how anyone was going to react to a faunus. The only person I knew that I could rely on was Twilight. But I had to walk in there anyway and trust that things would be okay, because if you wait until you know for sure that everything will work out, then you’d be too scared to do anything.”

“Which isn’t to say,” Twilight added pointedly, in case Rainbow scared Penny, “that everything is a complete flip of the coin or a toss of the dice. Penny, how would you describe Ruby and Pyrrha? Not in terms of how they fight or what weapons they use, but just in what kind of people they are.”

“Kind,” Penny said. “The kind of people they are is kind.”

“And because they’re kind, I think it’s likely that they’ll accept you,” Twilight said. “Ruby and Pyrrha like you for who you are, and I can’t believe that they’re the kind of people who would change their minds about that just because they found out what you are.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “I mean, they manage to be friends with Sunset, and she’s not just a faunus but a-“

“Rainbow Dash!”

“What?”

“Not the time!” Twilight hissed.

Rainbow chuckled awkwardly. “Right. Sorry. The point is… the point is that you’re right, Penny, and so is Twilight. Ruby and Pyrrha are both good people, kind people; when I met Pyrrha a couple of years ago, at that charity thing, she didn’t say a thing about the fact that I was a faunus, and she was really cool to Scootaloo too, even though she’s a faunus. Although we haven’t known them very long, I haven’t heard either of them say anything bad about anyone because of their race, and I don’t think they’d suddenly reveal that they hate robots or anything like that. I mean who hates robots but not faunus?”

“But Rainbow is also right, you can’t be sure,” Twilight said, “but because it’s so unlikely, I think you should tell them both; I’m afraid you’ll just worry about it until you do and find out for certain that there was never anything to worry about.”

“What?” Rainbow cried in a startled, strangled voice.

Penny looked up at Twilight, her green eyes. “You think I should tell them?”

“I do,” Twilight replied. “I think they can be trusted to keep a secret just as they can be trusted to stay true to you after they learn the truth.”

“Aha, Twilight,” Rainbow said, getting to her feet. “Can I talk to you for a second? Outside, maybe?”

Twilight pursed her lips. She knew what Rainbow wanted to discuss, but at the same time, she also knew that the course she was advocating was the right one, and she would not be moved on this. “Wait here, Penny,” she said, pulling away from her teammate, even as she gave her one last pat on the shoulder. “We’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Penny said, much of her usual good cheer returned to her voice. “And thank you, Twilight. You’ve been a big help.”

“Don’t thank her too much yet,” Rainbow muttered before she stalked out of the room and into the corridor outside. Twilight was left to follow, her steps pitter-pattering on the floor as she tried to keep up with Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow looked up and down the corridor, checking that there was no one around to overhear them, before she rounded on Twilight. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that the best way for Penny to get past this is for her to clear the air with her friends, be accepted, and understand that Blake was wrong.”

“In a perfect world, maybe, but she can’t just tell people the truth!”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t have clearance to let her!”

“That’s not our decision to make, or even General Ironwood’s,” Twilight declared. “Nobody owns Penny.”

Rainbow shifted uncomfortably. “Technically… Atlas… kinda does.”

“Rainbow Danger Dash,” Twilight declared, tilting her chin up so that she appeared to be looking down upon the other girl. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that. If you meant that then… we talked about this! Penny’s a person, not a knight!”

“I know, but she’s also-“

“She’s a girl,” Twilight said. “She’s a little girl who has been encouraged to worry that the only friends she’s ever had in her life will turn against her once they find out her secret. Do you really want that to be bothering her for months? For longer? No, Rainbow Dash, it’s not right to keep her troubled like that, not when the solution is right in front of us.”

Rainbow sighed. “I don’t know, Twilight; they haven’t been cleared to know that yet, and…”

“Come on, Rainbow; even if this wasn’t bothering Penny… imagine having to go through your whole life hiding the truth from your friends, unsure of whether or not they’d accept you if they knew, like that poor girl from Crystal Prep. Think of what that did to her and then think of the same thing happening to Penny.” Twilight made her eyes swell up a little and trembled her lip adorably. “Please, Rainbow Dash.”

“Don’t make that face at me, Twi; it’s manipulative as anything,” Rainbow snapped.

Twilight continued making that face and clasped her hands together above her chest.

“Ugh! Okay, okay, I’ll speak to General Ironwood and persuade him to clear it,” Rainbow said. “Just… stop, okay. My heart can only take so much of how cute you are.”

“Yes!” Twilight cried.

“But you,” Rainbow added as she got out her scroll, “are going to stay right here and talk to General Ironwood with me.”

“Okay,” Twilight said without hesitation. Because she was right, and she knew that she was right about this, and General Ironwood would see that she was right as well. “I’m ready, and I’m right here.”

Rainbow opened up her scroll and selected General Ironwood from her list of contacts.

It did not take quite as long as Twilight had expected for his face to appear in the screen. “Dash, Twilight,” he greeted them in an even tone. “You made it to Cold Harbour safely?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “I apologise for disturbing you.”

“You weren’t interrupting anything in particular,” General Ironwood replied. “The paperwork can wait for a minute. Is something wrong?”

“No, sir,” Rainbow said. “It’s just that… well…”

“Spit it out, Dash.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Twilight. “Twilight has something that she would like to say.”

“Dash,” General Ironwood said, his voice acquiring a touch of sternness. “My patience has limits.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Rainbow said hastily. “Um… we’d like permission to give Penny permission to tell her friends… about her true nature.”

General Ironwood’s face was expressionless. “Why?” he asked.

“Because our new auxiliary accidentally put into Penny’s head that people hate and distrust people who aren’t like them,” Rainbow muttered.

General Ironwood did not bother to restrain the sigh that escaped him. “I see. How bad is it?”

“We’ve calmed her down, sir, but it’s still bothering her,” Twilight said.

General Ironwood’s brow furrowed a little. “And how do you think they’ll react?”

“I think they’re good people, sir,” Rainbow said.

“I think they’ll accept Penny in spite of her differences,” Twilight added. “They accepted Blake even after they found out that she’d been lying to them about her nature; I can’t see them turning their back on Penny just because she’d been ordered to keep a secret.”

“Can’t you just tell her that?” General Ironwood asked.

“General… sir… with… it doesn’t quite work that way,” Rainbow admitted. “It’s… it’s hard to explain because you’re not… you’ve never…”

“You think that nobody ever looked at me strangely after my surgeries, Dash?” General Ironwood asked.

He had not spoken angrily or impatiently; his question was calmly phrased, if bluntly so, but nonetheless, it stunned the both of them into silence. They had known – everyone knew – that General Ironwood possessed cybernetics as extensive as any man in Atlas, and more than most, perhaps more than anyone. But Twilight had never considered, in all the time that General Ironwood had been a feature of her life, that they might have ever caused him difficulties, still less discrimination.

But… the General suffered severe burns rescuing cadets from a fire on the Enterprise. He saved thirteen lives. Who could find fault with him for that?

“You were a hero, sir,” Rainbow protested, clearly of like mind with Twilight.

“I became more machine than man, in the eyes of some,” General Ironwood replied dispassionately.

“That’s terrible!” Twilight cried.

“I’m not telling you this for sympathy, Twilight, just to inform you that I do have some understanding of what you’re talking about,” General Ironwood declared. “You like to think you know how people will react, but you can’t be sure.” He paused. “You realise that if Penny’s friends react badly to the truth, then the situation will be exacerbated.”

“Yes, sir,” Dash conceded, “but we’re…” – she glanced at Twilight – “fairly certain things will be okay.”

“It will be good for Penny to be able to confide in people, General,” Twilight said. “People of her choosing, people that she trusts.”

“As long as she doesn’t trust too many people,” General Ironwood reminded them. “But… as long as the information is restricted to Team Sapphire, then I suppose that shouldn’t present too much of a problem.”

For a moment, Rainbow and Twilight were silent. “Really?” Twilight asked.

“Really,” General Ironwood confirmed.

Rainbow grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

“As long as it helps Penny,” General Ironwood said. “Now, if there’s nothing else, the paperwork is calling.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Dash. Twilight.”

“Goodnight, General,” Twilight said, as he hung up. She looked at Rainbow and smiled.

Rainbow’s lips twitched. “Hey, Twilight.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, for pushing me to do the right thing,” Rainbow said.

“Any time,” Twilight said softly.

“Every time,” Rainbow corrected. “Now come on, let’s give her the good news.”

She turned on her heel and made her way back to their room, Twilight once more following behind her. Penny was sitting on the bed where they had left her, but as they returned, she looked up, expectant.

“You can tell them,” Rainbow said, “and you’ll see that Blake doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Penny’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash, and you, Twilight. But… are you sure that it will be alright? Are you sure that they’ll accept me?”

“If they don’t,” Rainbow said, “then they never deserved you in the first place.”

Blake, Ciel, and Sun reached the white, undecorated, nearly empty mess while there was still some hot food available, fortunately for them. Said hot meal turned out to be fish and chips, which was not bad exactly, but, well, Blake might have preferred the fish without all of the slightly greasy batter covering it up. Sun didn't seem to mind, however; he wolfed it down with aplomb, even if, in the process, he earned himself a couple of dirty looks from Ciel.

For that matter, Blake caught the other girl sending some of those her way too.

“Is there a problem?” Blake demanded, putting down her fork with a clatter.

Ciel finished chewing on a steak fry. She swallowed, waited a moment, set down her knife and fork properly by the sides of her plate and only then did she begin to speak. “You,” she said, looking at Sun, “have demonstrated a blatant disregard for rules, an absence of sensibility concerning your position and the responsibilities conferred thereon, not to mention the breathtaking arrogance required to simply insert yourself into a military operation in such a fashion.” She exhaled in a huff.

“And you,” she added, turning her attention on Blake. “You upset Penny,” she declared, somehow managing to make it sound worse than all the things she had accused Sun of.

“I… upset?” Blake murmured. It was obvious, put like that, but at the same time, she flinched from hearing herself described as the cause of Penny’s hurt feelings. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did,” Ciel replied sharply.

“Perhaps, and I’m sorry for that, but how?”

“Because you talk too much,” Ciel snapped. “What in Remnant possessed you to tell Penny that it is inevitable that people shall be made uncomfortable by those who are not as they are, as though it were some natural law laid down by the Lady which cannot be escaped?”

“I’m not sure who the Lady is, but broadly, that has been my experience,” Blake said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t give me that nonsense!” Ciel cried.

“'Nonsense'?” Blake repeated.

“I have no doubt that you have suffered at the hands of humans,” Ciel conceded.

“How very generous of you to allow me the suffering I have experienced,” Blake growled.

“But you have been supported by Team Sapphire to the point of being welcomed into their bedroom – into the bed of their team leader no less!” Ciel declared. She stopped abruptly. “I mean… that is to say… ahem. You take my meaning, I hope, and comprehend that I meant nothing juvenile by it.”

“More importantly, Sunset is also a faunus,” Blake reminded her.

“But the other three members of Team Sapphire are not, and this fact has not produced some feud borne out of race, any more than Rainbow Dash and I are at odds over anything more than my occasional disagreement with her leadership decisions,” Ciel said. “For that matter, you spoke on the theme of inevitable prejudice mere moments after leaving the presence of the commanding officer here who had just astonished you and Rainbow Dash with his tolerance!”

Blake’s ears drooped. “Well… when you put it like that… but I still don’t see what this has to do with Penny.”

The blue-eyed young huntress student was silent for a moment. Her expression softened, but Blake guessed that this was due to thoughts of Penny rather than to any sudden softening towards Blake on Ciel’s part. “Penny… is different,” she said, speaking slowly and softly and rather cautiously. “That fact cannot have escaped your notice.”

“No,” Blake admitted, matching the softness of Ciel’s tone. What would have been the point in denying? It would have seemed patronising and possibly made Ciel angrier. In the same way, she felt that asking Ciel to clarify what was different about Penny would only have invited a rebuke, not to mention the hypocrisy of trying to pry into Penny’s secrets when she had tried so hard to hide her own.

“Her father is one of the brightest minds in Atlas,” Ciel explained. “Of the men who might be said or have been said to be his equal, one is dead and the other wastes his talents in a clinic in Mantle. Penny’s father, meanwhile, is a titan of our science, a man of true eminence and all the prestige and privilege that accompanies such. Penny’s... condition… has made him… very protective of his daughter. As your friend Sunset Shimmer correctly surmised, Penny was assigned to a team led by General Ironwood’s prized student in order that she might be… protected, if necessary; also as your friend surmised, this was done at her father’s instigation; his influence extends that far. As a result, Penny… had no friends before arriving at Beacon.”

“What about you three?” Sun asked.

“Weren’t you listening?” Ciel demanded. “Rainbow, Twilight, and I were thrust upon Penny, not by the luck of the initiation but by General Ironwood and Doctor Polendina. Penny… I hope that she likes us, as we are fond of her, but I fear she cannot quite forget that we are an imposition on her liberty. Ruby and Pyrrha are the friends she chose. The friends whom you have made her fear will turn their backs upon her if they should learn… the truth.”

“Which is?” inquired Sun.

Ciel regarded him with magisterial disdain. “Never you mind.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Blake protested. “As you said, it’s obvious that Penny is… a little odd, and that hasn’t stopped Ruby or Pyrrha from accepting her.” For that matter, both Ruby and Pyrrha might be referred to as ‘different’ themselves.

“Penny’s… condition… goes beyond behaviour,” Ciel admitted. “It goes deeper than you know. Deeper than I intend to say, but suffice to say that, for all her naivety in certain ways, Penny is never unconscious of the things that set her apart from her friends. And now you have as good as told her that once those differences become more apparent, Ruby and Pyrrha will turn their backs upon her in disgust.”

“That’s absurd,” Blake objected. “Ruby and Pyrrha would never… their hearts are too open and full of kindness for that.”

“Then why did you make it sound inevitable?” Ciel demanded frostily.

“I… because… I was an idiot,” Blake admitted, her ears drooping so far they were practically flat. She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, I… I should apologise, explain myself.”

“Don’t you think you’ve said enough?” Ciel asked.

Blake flinched from the rebuke because she knew that she deserved it. “This is my fault; I have to do something to try and make it right,” she said, even as she rose from her seat and began to walk away.

She felt Ciel’s eyes upon her all the way out of the mess hall.

“You didn’t have to be so hard on her,” Sun pointed out as Blake walked away.

Ciel blinked. “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But as I said, we are all fond of Penny.”

“I get that,” Sun replied, “but all the same, you didn’t have to be so hard on her.”

“Blake has a habit of opening her mouth and then sticking her boot into it,” Ciel declared. “Perhaps a touch of censure will encourage her to think before she speaks.”

Sun scowled. “You don’t like her, do you?”

“I am not particularly enamoured of either of you at present.”

“Sure, you said so, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Sun said. “It’s more than just that she upset Penny.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I don’t know what she’s fighting for,” she said. “I’m not sure even she knows what she’s fighting for.”

“Do you have to know what someone’s fighting for before you like them?”

“It helps,” Ciel said, “but it is not the only criteria. I know exactly what you’re fighting for, and it only increases my misgivings towards you.”

“If this is about me stowing away-”

“That is the least of it,” Ciel said, cutting him off.

Sun frowned. “Then what’s the most of it?”

Ciel breathed in deeply. “I do not always agree with Rainbow Dash, but I would put my life in her hands; I do put my life in her hands, as she and Penny and Twilight put their lives in mine. As we will all be putting our lives in your hands when we fight together tomorrow and after.” She paused. “But you have shown that your hands are only for one single person.”

Sun’s eyes widened. “You can’t think that I’d-”

“Your teammates have placed their lives in your hands, and you have dropped them all to come here.”

“My team is perfectly safe at Beacon!” Sun protested.

“Should I take on faith that you would not have left them in more uncertain circumstances to pursue Blake?”

“I wouldn’t put anyone in danger that way,” Sun insisted. “I’m not… sure, Blake means more to me than my team does, even Neptune; I admit that. I never asked to be made Team Leader, I even asked Professor Lionheart to give it to someone else, but…”

“But you’re still their leader,” Ciel reminded him, “and you abandoned them. A team that has no bonds tying it together will not stand in battle, at least not in a battle where the outcome is in any way doubtful. That is why we must trust one another. How am I supposed to trust you to fight by my side when you have proven that there is only one person here you actually care about?"

Sun didn't – couldn't – meet her gaze. He looked away. "Well… when you put it like that… it doesn't look so great, I guess."

"No," Ciel muttered. "It does not."

Blake walked back into the bedroom they had been assigned to see Penny sitting on one of the bottom bunks, reading the book of fairy tales that they had been assigned for class. Rainbow was on the top bunk, bouncing a ball off the wall and back into her hand, while Twilight was, like Penny, reading – a Daring Do novel, in her case.

Rainbow looked up as Blake came in. “Did you bring us something to eat?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t,” Blake murmured. “I’m sorry, but there might still be some fish and chips left?” She didn’t bother waiting for Rainbow to reply, but knelt down beside Penny’s bunk. “Penny… I wanted to say how sorry I am. The things I did… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Penny said quietly, before she hiccuped.

Blake frowned. “Penny… Ciel explained to me that sometimes you feel… different from other people. Don’t worry, she didn’t say why,” she added, as Penny and Twilight both looked up from their books to stare at her, and Rainbow abruptly stopped throwing her ball off the wall. “But she said that… that I might have worried you. It wasn’t my intent.” She took a deep breath. “I was… mistaken. Ciel helped me realise exactly how mistaken I was. I was speaking… I was saying the words that I had been taught to say, taught to believe, when I was in the White Fang.”

“But you don’t believe them any more?” Penny asked. “Then why did you say them?”

“That’s a good question, Penny,” Blake said with a slight touch of self-deprecating laughter in her voice. “I could probably do with taking a second to think before I speak sometimes.” She sat down on the edge of Penny’s bunk, twisting her body around to look at the other girl who seemed so much younger than any other girl at Beacon, save perhaps for Ruby. “There are times when I still believe it,” she admitted, “but the truth is that, since I came to Beacon… yes, there are times when I’ve seen humans picking on faunus or showing fear or hatred towards them, but I’ve also seen so many instances of humans and faunus getting along, forming friendships, trusting one another with their lives. Like Sunset and Ruby, Sunset and all of her team; like Rainbow and her friends… if friendship can transcend race, then I’m sure whatever it is you feel…” Blake stopped; it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to say anything that would diminish whatever it was Penny felt set her apart from others. “And for what it’s worth, I think that of all the friends you could have made at Beacon, Ruby and Pyrrha are the two… I don’t think you could do anything short of an act of true evil that would cause them to turn away from you.” She smiled. “And even then, they’d probably forgive you if you were sorry about it.”

Penny smiled, softly and just a little sadly too. “I hope so,” she whispered.

Blake hesitated. “Penny… why do you keep reading that book? Are you struggling in class?”

“No,” Penny said, before she hiccuped again. “Well, yes, I am, but that’s not why I’m reading it. Or maybe it is.”

“What do you mean?”

Penny hesitated. “I… I love the story of the Shallow Sea so much… but I don’t know why. I like these stories, but I feel as though I don’t really understand them.”

“You can’t explain them,” Blake corrected her, “but you do understand, or else, you wouldn’t love them. These stories… they speak to our hearts before they speak to our heads. The Shallow Sea… I remember my mother telling me that story before I went to sleep. I must admit, it’s not my favourite,” – as a child she had liked it well enough, but as she got older, she had begun to find it more and more problematic, for all the reasons why it was falling out of favour amongst the faunus – “but I think I can see why it appeals to you.”

Penny looked at her, green eyes wide with curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s about being seen,” Blake explained, “for who you really are.”

A Crash Course in Atlas (New)

Author's Note

As a quick note, chapters 'Truth Will Out' and 'The Sunset Strategy' from volume 1 will be getting some minor but significant touch-ups on Monday in place of a new chapter of volume 2.

A Crash Course in Atlas (New)

A Crash Course in Atlas

Blake’s eyes snapped open as she heard footsteps on the floor. She didn’t need her faunus night-vision to see the crack of light that began to yawn into the room as the door swung open and then was closed again.

But it did help her to see in the renewed darkness into which the room was plunged once the door closed.

Blake rolled out of bed. Twilight, Ciel, Sun, and Penny were all asleep in their bunks – or at least, she presumed that Penny was asleep, although she seemed to have fallen asleep sitting upright in a manner that Blake had never come across before.

But at the moment, she was more interested in the fact that Rainbow Dash’s bunk was empty.

Clad in her black pyjamas, with her belladonna flower symbol branded on the shoulder and the sash bound around her waist, Blake padded barefoot out of the room and into the corridor.

She saw Rainbow Dash, also barefoot, walking away in the direction of the exit.

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake murmured as she let the door swing shut after her.

Rainbow stopped, half turning towards Blake. She was dressed in a purple tank top and knee-length blue pants, with rainbow-coloured sweat bands around her wrists. “Hey, Blake,” she said quietly. “Did I wake you? Sorry about that.”

“A little bit, but it’s okay,” Blake replied, taking a few steps towards her. “Where are you going?” The showers were in the other direction, if that was Rainbow’s intent.

“I’m going to start my wake-up routine,” Rainbow said. She paused for a moment. “You want to come?”

“I…” Blake hesitated, but she was honestly a little intrigued at this point, and she was already awake. “Sure,” she said. She would have gone back for boots, but the fact that Rainbow was likewise barefoot suggested that that wouldn’t be necessary. She began to walk briskly towards Rainbow, who mostly waited for her and then set off again when she was only a couple of steps away.

Blake followed her through a base that was quiet at this time in the morning; in fact, apart from the sentries at the door when they finally reached it, the two of them didn’t see anyone else upon their travels. Blake thought there must have been someone else awake – wasn’t there an officer who had to stay on watch or something like that? – but they were not in the corridors that Rainbow led Blake through, until they exited the doors and stood at the top of the steps, looking down at the docking pads where they had landed their Skyray yesterday. It was still dark – the dawn was less eager to wake up than either Rainbow or Blake – but she didn’t need the light of sun or moon to see all the Atlesian airships parked before the base, although she thought that Rainbow Dash might have more difficulty, depending on what she intended.

She thought that perhaps Rainbow meant to go for a morning run, the way that Jaune and Pyrrha started almost every morning, but although she descended the metal steps down from the entrance, Rainbow only rounded the building to another set of metal steps, this time leading all the way up onto the flat roof of the base complex. There, she padded briskly across the slightly rough, black surface until she was standing on the eastern edge of the rooftop, looking outwards beyond the walls and the barren landscape that lay around Cold Harbour.

“Can you see anything?” Blake asked as she joined Rainbow there. She was of the opinion there was not a lot worth seeing, but she was uncertain whether Rainbow Dash could see anything at all.

“Not yet,” Rainbow admitted, “but I don’t need to.”

“No?” Blake asked.

“Not yet,” Rainbow repeated.

Blake frowned. “What are we doing up here?”

“I told you, waking up Rainbow Dash style,” Rainbow said as she clasped her palms together and brought her left leg up to rest upon her right knee.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You’re… doing yoga?”

“You sound surprised,” Rainbow said, not even wobbling.

“We’re about to fly into battle, and you’re doing yoga?”

“I’m limbering up my body,” Rainbow replied. “Can you think of a better time to do that than before we fly into battle?”

“I… guess not,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow looked at her. “Well?” she demanded.

“'Well' what?”

“Are you going to join in or what?”

“Oh, right,” Blake said and hastily mimicked Rainbow’s actions, putting her palms together and balancing like a stork or a crane upon one leg, bracing her other leg against her knee.

Rainbow breathed in and then breathed out again. “Okay,” she said, looking away from Blake. “Let’s just take this nice and easy. Just do what I do.” She raised both hands above her head and lowered her other foot to the ground at the same time, making an X with her body for a moment before bending over, making an arch with her form as she touched the ground with her fingertips. Blake mimicked her, although since her hair was quite a bit longer than Rainbow Dash's, it flopped over rather more of her face than the Atlesian had to deal with, and she had difficulty seeing Rainbow through the wild black waves that deluged upon her.

She took one hand off the surface to brush her hair out of her eyes in time to see Rainbow shift to a sitting position, legs crossed, like her parents at tea on Menagerie. Blake adopted a similar position, hands resting upon her knees.

Rainbow breathed deeply, in and out, and Blake found herself following the other girl’s breathing patterns.

“Okay,” Rainbow declared. “Let’s start with a Downward Dog.”

What followed consisted mainly of Blake trying – rather more vainly than not – to match the impressive elasticity of Rainbow Dash as she moved her body fluidly through an array of colourfully and animalistically named postures like Cat Pose, Coiled Snake, or Trained Llama, often shifting on to the next before Blake had quite gotten the hang of the last. It was not quite the gentle exercise that she had seemed to promise, and by the time Rainbow got to Horse on a Bike – which involved lying on her belly, with her hands to the floor as though she were about to start doing push ups, but with her legs up and twisted around each other at right angles – Blake was about ready to give up.

“If posing like animals doing things is how you spend your mornings, then I can see why you spend them alone,” she muttered, climbing to her feet and trying to ignore the creaking of her joints as they protested all that stretching that she had tried to do.

Rainbow laughed nervously. “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away from ‘nice and easy’ didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Blake said bluntly.

Rainbow resumed the cross-legged sitting posture, patting the ground beside her. “Stick around a little while, or you’ll miss the good part.”

“There’s a good part?”

“Just sit down,” Rainbow said with a good-natured scowl.

Blake hesitated a moment before she did so, once more mirroring Rainbow’s posture.

Rainbow was silent a moment, peering out into the darkness with eyes that could not penetrate it, before she said, “I’m sorry if Ciel gave you a hard time last night.”

“It’s fine,” Blake murmured. “I deserved it.”

“Well… you didn’t mean to worry Penny.”

“No,” Blake agreed, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I did it.”

“I gotta say,” Rainbow said, “that if I’d known then what I know now, I never would have mentioned the whole thing about the commanding officer to you.”

“I bet you wouldn’t,” Blake said, half under her breath, “but I’m glad you did. I’d rather be pleasantly surprised by a good man than shocked by a bigot.”

“The bigots get all the attention,” Rainbow sighed, “but there are a lot more good men wearing the white.”

Blake frowned. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“It’s like… you’re trying to convince me that Atlas is a good place, that the Atlesians are good people,” Blake said.

“Because Atlas is a good place, and Atlesians are good people,” Rainbow replied. “Good people like the General, like Twilight, like the rest of our friends-”

“Like you?”

Rainbow shrugged. “I… have my moments of awesome, I suppose.”

Blake snorted. “But what I don’t understand is why you care? I’m pretty sure Ciel doesn’t care what I think of your kingdom, and I don’t think even Twilight is concerned by it. Why does it matter to you what I think of Atlas, provided I work for you?”

Rainbow closed her eyes, breathing in and out. “When you first met me, you thought that I had to be in some kind of trouble, that I must hate Atlas and be looking for an out, right?”

“Yes,” Blake murmured. She wasn’t particularly proud of the way she’d acted then and didn’t relish being reminded of it.

“Because of your friend.”

“Because of Ilia, sure,” Blake agreed, still speaking softly.

“Well,” Rainbow said, “I had a friend once too; we grew up together in Low Town. We grew up looking up at Atlas, wondering what it was like up there. Gilda, she… didn’t get the breaks that I did. It made her… one day, I was over at her place, and I found these White Fang recruiting pamphlets in a shoebox under her bed.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “What happened? Did she-?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “We… had a big fight, I stormed out, and I never spoke to her again. Her parents and mine are neighbours on Menagerie; apparently, she moved to Vale and started working construction or something.”

“Have you thought about trying to track her down?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “I’m still not ready to accept her apology yet.”

“Whatever she said, it must have been quite hurtful,” Blake observed.

“It was,” Rainbow declared. “I guess… maybe I’d like to prove to you what I couldn’t prove to her: that Atlas isn’t a bad place, and it certainly isn’t full of bad people. The opposite. Atlas is full of great people doing the best they can.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “I… I wouldn’t have believed that, not so long ago, but now… at least judging by the Atlesians I’ve met… it seems like it might be true.”

“It is true,” Rainbow insisted. “Oh, here comes the good part!”

"'The-'" Blake's words were snatched away from her by the coming of the dawn, her rosy fingers emerging over the far-off mountains to the east like a child's hand reaching up to grab the surface of a table too tall for them. Golden light began to bathe the world, banishing the dull gloom in which it had lain enshrouded and spreading a soft, renewing light over the landscape. It was the same world that it had been a moment before, and yet, by just a little touch of light falling from the east, it seemed transformed, less barren and more alive than it had been. That sense of life and sudden, transformed vitality was only increased as, out beyond the walls but still quite audible to Blake's four ears, a chorus of birds began to greet the dawn as it made its westward way across Cold Harbour and the sea beyond.

A slight smile broke out on Blake's face as the dawn song touched her ears. "Thank you," she said softly.

Rainbow sat, still and motionless. "I fight for a lot of reasons: for my friends, for my kingdom, for my own self-respect. Some of my reasons for fighting depend on who it is I'm fighting, but as far as fighting the grimm goes, one of my reasons is… it's a wonderful world, don't you think?"

Blake could have disputed that. In another time, another place, she probably would have disputed, but at this time and in this place, it would have seemed purely wilful on her part to do so.

She got up. "I'm ready to hit the shower," she announced.

"Go ahead," Rainbow replied. "I'm not quite done here yet."

"Suit yourself," Blake said, and she left Rainbow Dash there, sitting cross-legged on the roof, watching the sunrise bathe the world in gold, the light breaking upon her like a golden statue set for such a purpose. And as the rays of morning fell upon her, the many colours of Rainbow's hair seemed to glow brighter than Blake had ever seen them glow before.

For her own part, Blake descended the steps lightly and made her way back into the Atlesian base which, in spite of the morning, had yet to truly begin to stir to life; as she walked back through the corridors, she found it every bit as empty and deserted-seeming as it had been when she and Rainbow Dash had come the other way.

Nor was there any sign of stirring to life in the room where her companions were sleeping, all save Ciel whose bunk was now as empty as those of Blake or Rainbow. Either she had decided to grab an early shower, or she, too, had an esoteric morning routine just like her team leader. In any case, Blake grabbed her clothes, her shower gel, shampoo, and towel and once more headed out of the room and down towards the showers. She wasn't sure exactly how long the journey back to Beacon would take, but she was unlikely to get the chance to wash while stowed away aboard a cargo train, so best make the most of the Atlesian facilities while she had access to them.

The shower consisted of two rooms: a dry room, where Blake noticed that Ciel's clothes were neatly folded on one of the wooden benches that ran down the side of the room, and a wet room beyond, with a curtain to cover up the doorway and a lip of wall to prevent water spillage. Blake could hear running water on the other side of the curtain and see steam rising from it.

She took off her pyjamas quickly, folding them up and putting them next to her clothes, before – naked, with her shower gel in one hand and her shampoo in the other – she brushed aside the curtain and stepped into the communal shower proper.

And as the curtain fell back across the doorway behind her, Blake stopped, her eyes widening. Ciel was already in the shower as her clothes indicated. She had her back to Blake, and all the steam rising from the shower could not conceal the fact that her back was scarred, and badly so, by two lines of puncture marks, which Blake could only guess were made by fangs, one running just beneath her waistline and the other about halfway up her back. They looked like more than just bite marks, although if they were not bite marks, then Blake couldn't say exactly what they were, but it looked as though stakes had been driven through her body, deep into her flesh. Rows of keloids like mountain ranges rose across her body.

Ciel became aware of Blake's presence in the shower; she turned towards her, eyes flashing, and in the process revealed that she had similar scars across her front too; they crossed her belly and just beneath her breasts.

Blake turned away, facing the other wall.

"There is no need for that," Ciel said, and though the shower was full of steam, Blake felt the chill in her words regardless. "I am not ashamed."

Blake was not entirely sure of that, but she didn't want to offend Ciel further by questioning her sincerity; she turned back towards the other girl. "How?" she asked.

Ciel was silent for a moment. "An ice ursa, when I was seventeen."

'When I was'? "How old are you now?"

"Eighteen," Ciel replied. She resumed washing, lathering her body in shower gel as though she hoped to cover up her scars with it. "During the summer break, after I had graduated combat school but before I was due to start at Atlas in the fall, I volunteered to help out at a camp for the younger children, twelve- and thirteen-year olds, run by my combat school."

"A sort of teaching assistant," Blake said.

"Quite," Ciel said, her voice brittle, like glass. "One day, one of the children got separated from the group on a hike. I was one of those who volunteered to go and look for him, and I found him: lost, scared, alone. All very natural, but at the same time-"

"All the things that draw the grimm," Blake murmured.

"Quite," Ciel repeated. "A pack of sabyrs cornered us at the edge of a cliff. I fought them off, with only some difficulty, but just as I thought we were safe, an ursa, perhaps a major, climbed up the cliff behind us, and… it was all I could do to put myself between the boy and the grimm. I am… an indifferent fighter at close quarters. It got me in its jaws. My aura broke. It would have bitten me clean in two if an instructor, drawn by the sound of gunfire, hadn't reached us just in time. Instead… the beast left me with a permanent reminder of our encounter. It ensured that, no matter how many grimm I slay, there is one, at least, that I will not forget." She took a deep breath, standing beneath the shower and letting the water flow down her body onto the floor. "But the boy lived; that is the important thing."

"And you lived too," Blake said. "That's equally important."

Ciel snorted. "How very kind of you to say so."

Blake turned on her own shower. The water was cold for a moment, but it began to warm up rapidly as it ran through her hair and down her body. "Does… does it hurt?"

"Upon occasion," Ciel admitted. "Less so now than at one time."

"I see," Blake murmured. "So… your injuries held you back a year?"

Ciel nodded. "I required… treatment on my back," she said, explaining while at the same time giving little away. "It was not possible for me to attend Atlas in my condition after the attack, and by the time my rehabilitation was complete, first semester had already concluded." She paused. "However, it appeared that I had come to the attention of General Ironwood regardless; he was kind enough to arrange private tuition for me while I waited to try again for Atlas the next year."

"He probably respected the fact that you were willing to sacrifice yourself to save a child," Blake said. "Not everyone would have."

"Every son and daughter of Atlas would have," Ciel replied. "We are a sacrificing nation; that is our way."

Blake was by no means convinced of that, by no means so certain that the virtues that Ciel ascribed to her fellow Atlesians were so widespread as she believed or, perhaps, would like to think. But she fell silent as she shampooed her hair, building up a lather and letting the water wash it away along with any grime. "I understand," she said after a moment.

"Do you?" Ciel asked sceptically.

"You don't think I'm ready to sacrifice?" Blake demanded. "You think that I don't understand sacrifice?"

"I think that you are willing to sacrifice your life," Ciel admitted. "I am less certain that you understand what is worth sacrificing for and what is not."

"I don't understand what you mean by that," Blake conceded.

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I was ready to give my life to save that child," she said. "I would have done the same to protect a civilian or even a comrade. But if I had been all alone, with no child or civilian or comrade to protect, I should have run from the ursa, having nothing to lose in doing so but my pride, a thing of no worth to anyone else and of little account even to myself."

"You mean to tell me Atlas has no concept of pride?"

"We are proud of what we do," Ciel corrected her, "but what we do must make sense. A fruitless victory is not worth a single life spent to attain, and a glorious defeat is worth less than that if glory and honour be the only attainments of the battle. We must risk our lives upon an object, or we risk them for nothing."

"And you think I'd risk my life for nothing," Blake said.

Ciel did not meet her gaze. "I fear that you would get yourself killed simply to prove – if only to your own satisfaction – that you were brave enough to put your life at hazard," she said. Now, she looked at Blake, as the steam rose around them. "Am I wrong?"

Blake did not reply. She felt as if there was nothing she could say.

Rainbow returned to find that Blake and Ciel were absent – presumably still in the shower – and the rest of the group was starting to wake up: Penny had turned herself back on from her stand-by cycle, Twilight's hair was perfect as ever – Rainbow could never work out how she managed that – and Sun was yawning as he rolled out of bed.

"Good, you're awake," Rainbow said. "Step outside with me for a second; I want to talk to you."

"Me?" Sun asked, pointing at himself.

"Yes, you, come on."

"Like this?" Sun gestured to himself; he was completely naked apart from a pair of boxer shorts which concealed his modesty but allowed his tail to droop down to the floor behind him.

Rainbow smirked. "It's not much worse than the way you usually dress, is it?"

Sun took that in stride. "Okay. Lead the way, I guess."

Rainbow only led the way out of the room and a few feet up the corridor before she turned to face the taller faunus. "I hear Ciel gave you a hard time last night?"

Sun shrugged. "I've had worse. And… I guess I can't say she doesn't have a point."

"Still, I don't want you to think that it was anything personal or because Ciel hates faunus or anything like that. It's just that nothing means more to Ciel – at least not right now – than the wellbeing of this team. And this team is a lot bigger than Blake."

Sun scratched the back of his head. "You too, huh?"

Rainbow leaned against the wall. "There's a voice in my head that sounds like my friend Rarity that is telling me that what you did was really romantic, that Blake should think herself lucky to have a guy willing to do dumbass stuff like that to be with her; and you know… I can see that. There's a voice in my head that sounds like Fluttershy, telling me that you didn't mean any harm and that I should go easy on you, and you… I can see that too. But then there's another part of me, the part that thinks that loyalty matters, and that part – the part that sounds most like me – is asking what you're loyal to."

"You think you can't trust me because Blake's the only one I care about," Sun said.

"Is Blake the only one you care about?" Rainbow asked.

Sun mimicked Rainbow in leaning against the wall. His tail fell, motionless, down to the ground, resting still upon the floor. "Is it true that Atlas flies?" he asked.

It was a weird question, but Rainbow answered it anyway. "Atlas floats," she corrected him.

"What's the difference?"

"It's in the sky, but it doesn't move anywhere," Rainbow said. "Like a balloon tied to a chair at a party. Airships fly; they go places. Atlas sticks around."

Sun nodded. "Do you ever feel like it won't?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, dude, you live on a flying rock-"

"Floating rock."

"Whatever," Sun replied. "Don't you ever worry that you'll just… blow away?"

"No."

"No?"

"No," Rainbow repeated a little incredulously. "Why would I worry about that? I said Atlas was like a balloon; I didn't say it was a balloon. Atlas might be a floating rock, but although the 'floating' part matters, so does the 'rock' part, as in 'rock steady'. And that goes not just for Atlas, but for me too. I always know where Atlas is, and I always know where I am." Standing between Atlas and danger. Standing between my friends and danger.

"Lucky you, I guess," Sun muttered. "I… I'm not from Atlas; I'm from Vacuo, and even though I never lived in a flying – sorry, floating – city, I never lived anywhere that felt as steady as a rock. I don't remember my parents much; I just remember that we were always moving around, heading from place to place, never stopping in any one place for too long. It's been like that my whole life, and honestly, I'm fine with that. Neptune's a cool guy, like really cool, about everything, but… I always knew I'd leave him behind someday. I'd leave them all behind someday. And that… was fine. I'd miss Neptune more than Sage or Scarlet, but if you'd asked me if I could stick around for them, I would have told you 'no, that's just not the kind of guy I am.' I would have told you I was born to move around; that's why I wanted to become a huntsman in the first place, so I could travel around the kingdoms as much as I wanted and do some good at the same time instead of just being a drifter or a burden folks weren't glad to see.

"And then I met Blake."

Rainbow found herself grinning in spite of herself. "And her, you can stick around for, huh?"

"Have you ever met someone who, like, blows your mind?" Sun asked. "Have you ever met someone who changes your life completely, in a single moment?"

The smile remained on Rainbow's face; in fact, it got a little broader and more fond. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

"She… Blake… she is…"

"Your rock?" Rainbow suggested. "When you're with her, you know exactly where you are. 'Cause it's where you're meant to be."

Sun nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, exactly. Look, I'm sorry that I can't say I'm here because I want to fight for Atlas or because I believe in what you're doing, but… so long as this is Blake's fight, then I'll fight it too; I'll fight with everything I've got. You don't have to worry about me."

"What worries me," Rainbow said, "is that you'll ignore anyone, anything, any part of the plan that isn't Blake… but I guess all that means is that I have to plan around that, since I know about it."

Sun blinked. "You mean…"

"My friend Applejack said once 'don't drop an apple and then complain when it hits the ground.' Maybe you're not the most reliable guy – and you're not, I'll be honest – but we'll make it work."

"And… that's it?"

"What do you want?" Rainbow demanded. "There's a voice in my head that sounds a little like Twilight telling me I ought to teach you a lesson about appreciating your teammates, but… I don't know how I'd even start on that, and I don't have time, and… I'm not that great at that stuff anyway. Twilight can teach you a lesson if she wants to. Right now: get showered, get dressed, let's get some food in us, and let's head out. And Sun?"

Sun peeled himself off the wall. "Yeah?"

"Blake's lucky to have you," Rainbow said.

Sun grinned. "Nah, I'm lucky to have her."

"Of course," Rainbow agreed. "That too."

The mess started serving breakfast early for any troops who might have early shifts or the like, and so, the expanded team was able to grab something to eat before, fed and washed, embarking upon a different Skyray than the one which had carried them to Cold Harbour the prior night. Blake knew it was different because their Skyray was still sitting where Rainbow had landed it last night, while this morning, a deck officer directed them to a different airship which was, functionally, identical to the last, inside and out.

Twilight took the pilot's seat – something which surprised Blake for a moment until she thought about it and realised that Rainbow would want to be free to join the fighting – with a sleek, slender white metallic android with a black, Y-shaped faceplate sitting in the co-pilot's seat. In shape, it was recognisably of a type with the Atlesian androids that Blake had fought against in the past, but at the same time was – if nothing else – better-looking than those grey, functional, rather ugly things.

"Is that a new model?" Blake asked, as she stepped into the cockpit.

"Yep," Twilight agreed. "Meet the Atlesian Knight 200."

"Or Otto, apparently," Blake said, noticing that someone had written the name in blue upon the android's head.

Twilight groaned. "Really? Of all the puns."

"I don't get it," Penny said from where she stood in the main compartment behind them.

Twilight looked over her shoulder. "Otto the Autopilot, Penny."

Penny blinked. "I still don't get it."

"Don't worry, Penny; you're not missing anything," Twilight assured her.

"So," Blake murmured. "They're an improvement over the 130s?"

Twilight nodded. "They're smarter, more versatile – hence they can drive trucks and fly airships on simple, predetermined routes or flight patterns – and they don't look as scary."

"I always thought you wanted your androids to scare people," Blake said sincerely.

"What? No!" Twilight cried, her head whipping around to look back. "We don't want to scare people; we want to help them feel safe!"

"Because you're protectors, not conquerors or oppressors," Blake murmured.

"Yes," Twilight replied. "I mean, don't expect me to be as eloquent as Ciel upon the subject, but… I understand the way that you feel about Atlas, and I understand that you come by those feelings honestly, but… for what it's worth, I've grown up with soldiers and huntsmen all my life, and I've never known any of them who weren't earnestly committed to the defence of humanity and the survival of all four kingdoms." She paused and smiled up at Blake. "So if you ever find yourself wondering if Rainbow Dash is sincere, the answer is always 'yes.'"

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards. "I can believe that," she said. "Just like I can believe that you believe what you're saying."

"But you don't believe me?" Twilight assumed.

"I… I must admit, the more Atlesians I meet, the more I'm surprised by the fact that I haven't met anyone particularly… disagreeable," Blake said softly. "You're all much better people than I gave you credit for. So far."

Twilight chuckled. "I hope we can keep that up," she said.

"And while I don't particularly want to see my old comrades indiscriminately slaughtered by your air power, I do respect the fact that Atlas is actually doing something about the White Fang and about the dangers lurking in Vale," Blake went on. "What does it say when Atlas is willing to do more to protect Vale than Vale itself?"

"That Atlas has the means?" Twilight suggested. "Rainbow and Ciel might be inclined to read more into it than that, but-"

"But your patriotism is of a subtler sort?" Blake suggested.

Twilight chuckled. "I'd say it's more that… chest thumping isn't exactly my style," she said apologetically.

While they had been talking, Penny had been waiting patiently in the airship while Sun had been delayed at the instigation of Ciel and Rainbow Dash. Now he appeared, climbing down the steps out of the base with a pair of bulky grey cases in his hands; he looked around, clearly puzzled as to which airship was the right one until Blake leaned out of the Skyray and waved to him. He started towards her at once. Ciel followed, also carrying a similar grey case, although only one, as she needed the other hand for her spare rifle. Rainbow Dash was the last to emerge, and as well as carrying a pair of cases in her own right, she was also speaking to Captain Sandleford, who was gesturing earnestly with one hand as he talked. Blake was too far away to hear what they were saying, but she saw Rainbow nod repeatedly in response to whatever was being said to her.

Sun reached the airship, dumping his load roughly in the back. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Blake replied, allowing him to give her a kiss on the cheek. "What's in the boxes?"

"Weapons, I guess," Sun replied. "I mean, we went to the armoury to get them, but they'd already been packed up for us, so… I don't know."

Blake frowned. Weapons? Why would they need to bring weapons from the armoury? Everyone was armed already. Was it thought that they would need backup weapons? Was this some Atlesian way of doing things of which she was ignorant?

Ciel was the next to climb into the airship. She let out a loud 'tsk' of disapproval as she saw the way in which Sun had just laid down his burdens haphazardly and set about rearranging them, and her own, in a tidy fashion.

"What's in those?" Blake asked.

"Vital supplies," Ciel said.

Blake raised one eyebrow as Ciel turned to face her.

"Rainbow Dash wants it to be a surprise," Ciel added, slightly apologetically.

Blake frowned as Rainbow became the last to climb into the Skyray. "Okay, Twi, let's go."

"Apparently, you want to surprise me with something?" Blake said as Rainbow laid down her burdens on top of the pile Ciel had made.

"I'm hoping to surprise you with a lot today," Rainbow admitted, grinning as she patted Blake on the shoulder. "'Cause I'm going to give you a crash course in the real Atlas."

The doors shut, enclosing the group inside the Skyray as the airship rose, slowly at first but steadily, into the air. If Twilight was trying to hide her nervousness at being the only organic pilot on board, she was doing a terrible job of it – and Blake meant that with no malice at all – but nevertheless, she got them up into the air without difficulty and flew them out over the walls of Cold Harbour with no problems that Blake noticed. Rainbow was with her in the cockpit, whispering into her ear what might have been instructions or might have been simple encouragement, but either way, it was Twilight's flying that carried them southeast, inland from the port, over the uncultivated pastureland that surrounded the town until it was replaced by a verdant forest. The woods were not so thick as the Emerald or the Forever Fall Forests, nor as some of the wild woods of Mistral; the trees did not grow so close to one another that they blocked out the sky below or the sight of the ground from above. When Blake briefly headed up to the cockpit to look out the window, she could see plenty of sun-dappled ground beneath them through the gaps between the trees. What she could not see was any sign of the grimm.

"Do we have any idea what we're looking for?" Blake asked as she retreated into the main compartment.

"We're going to talk to the faunus first," Rainbow said. "See if they know anything."

"And force them back to work?" Blake asked.

"I'm going to try and persuade them to come back inside the walls," Rainbow replied.

And what if they won't? Blake thought but did not ask, for fear of what the answer would be.

Nobody in the airship was reading now. Penny stood ramrod straight, staring straight ahead, eyes unblinking in a manner that was, honestly, a little disconcerting. Ciel's hands were clasped together, and her eyes were closed as her lips moved silently. It took Blake a moment to realise that she was praying. That wasn't something that you saw much of anymore; prayer and faith had largely fallen by the wayside in the modern world. The faunus told stories of a creator god, whether that was the god of the Shallow Sea or the Judgement of the Faunus, but no one invoked his name, not even amongst the White Fang, where you would have most expected such sentiment to survive. Religion had withered on the vine, although Blake's education, largely self-administered as it was, had not informed her as to precisely how or why. But apparently, it had survived in Ciel Soleil.

It was not what she would have expected of the model Atlesian student.

Ciel stopped praying and opened her eyes. She looked at Blake, almost challenging her to say something.

Blake did not. However Ciel found solace was her concern.

"Are you okay?" Sun asked.

"I'm fine," Blake replied. "You?"

"Yeah," Sun said quickly. "I just…"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"After being questioned about whether these guys can trust me to fight beside them," Sun explained. "I just realised I never asked if I could trust them."

Blake chuckled. "I'm afraid you may have left it a little late."

"Such a question," harrumphed Ciel, "is wholly unnecessary."

"Don't worry, Sun," Penny declared. "We'll protect you! Defending life is my primary purpose!"

Sun grinned. "I feel safer already, Penny, even if that isn't what I was worried about."

"We're here," Twilight called from the cockpit as the airship began to descend.

Blake brushed past Sun and Penny to join Twilight and Rainbow in the cockpit. Twilight was bringing them down on the edge of a depression in the middle of the wood, a hollow of grass that the trees all around and up above had declined to venture down into. Instead, clustered around a spring in the very centre of the hollow, some crude huts of sticks and stones had been erected, and about thirty or forty people milled around, looking up at the descending airship. Some backed away from it, retreating to the other end of the hollow, but a few stood their ground as the Skyray dropped to land in their clearing.

"Blake, you're with me; everyone else, stay here," Rainbow said. She patted Twilight on the shoulder. "Nice landing, Twi; keep the engine running."

"You got it," Twilight murmured, still not without nerves in her voice, as the door on the right of the airship opened.

"Are you sure you want me with you?" Blake asked softly.

"I'm sure," Rainbow said. "That's why I said it."

"Okay," Blake murmured. If you're certain.

Rainbow dismounted first, leaping down out of the airship and leaving Blake to follow a second behind, and then a step behind once she got on the ground alongside the Atlesian leader. The occupants of the hollow, some facing them, others cowering before them, were all faunus: some had had ram horns, some had cat or dog ears, some had horse tails, one or two even had bird wings. There were men and women and more than a few children; the younger children clung to their parents while the older ones looked braver than some of the adults.

None of their clothes had been made to stand the rigours of the outdoors. It was working wear, overalls and steel toe-capped boots, all of it filthy and some of it falling apart. Beards were very much in fashion amongst the men.

Their looks were wary, verging upon and even becoming hostile in some cases, but Rainbow seemed not to notice – or perhaps she just didn't care – as she strode towards them. "Hey there!" she said. "I hear you might have a grimm problem. Anybody want to tell me about it?"

Silence greeted her, broken only by the chirping of birds in the trees. A man stepped forward, a broad-shouldered fellow with long dark hair, an untidy beard and a donkey's tail drooping towards the ground. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

"My name's Rainbow Dash; this is Blake Belladonna. We're huntresses in training," Rainbow said.

"Huntresses? On an Atlesian airship?"

Rainbow shrugged. "We're Atlesian huntresses."

"Some of us," Blake murmured.

"Atlas," the man spat. "Are you here to drag us back to town?"

"No," Rainbow said, which surprised and gladdened Blake. "Although, is it really so much better living here in the middle of the woods?"

"We're not stopping here," the man replied. "This place is only temporary."

"Until what?" Rainbow asked.

"Until they're sure no one else is going to join them," Blake guessed as she took a step forward. "That's what you're doing, isn't it? You're waiting to see if anyone else will leave town to come and join you here."

The man hesitated for a moment before he nodded. "It wouldn't feel right to leave before we knew that no one else wanted to follow. Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," Blake said, glancing at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow said, "I talked to Captain Sandleford; he thinks you'll be safer in town."

The man nodded. "He came to talk to us himself. I'll tell you what I told him: we might be in danger here, but at least we're free."

"Oh, come on!" Rainbow said. "Don't act like you were slaves at Cold Harbour-"

"Wage slaves, maybe," someone called out from amongst the crowd.

The donkey faunus nodded. "The law says that any employee who works for more than six months is granted certain protections and benefits, like healthcare. But what they do is, they take us on six month contracts, then terminate those contracts for a day or a week, and then rehire us on another six month contract so they never have to give us a thing but the pittance they call our wages. Our children get sick, and no one can afford a doctor; a man gets too old to work, and he has nothing to live on, no savings or pension or nothing."

"And they're all in on it?" Rainbow asked.

"Every place except the Atlesian base, and there's only many janitors they need there," the donkey faunus replied.

"That can't be legal,” Rainbow said.

The man laughed. "Kid, around here nobody cares about legal, especially not where faunus are concerned."

Blake frowned. "So where will you go?"

"Vale, maybe?" the donkey faunus suggested. "Or maybe we'll head east, see what's over the mountains, or maybe we'll start a commune out here and become farmers."

"Not if you get eaten by the grimm, you won't," Rainbow said. "Listen, I don't know what your lives were like back in Cold Harbour, and if you don't want to go back there, then that's fine, but there are grimm around, and anything you can tell me to help us take them out will help you too."

The man was silent for a moment before he nodded in acknowledgement of what Rainbow had said. "There's a hill to the south of here," he said. "I was out foraging when I found a cave… with claw marks on the stone. I think that's where they make their nest or den or whatever you call it. But I didn't stick around to say for sure."

"A hill?"

"The bald hill, there," the donkey faunus said, pointing to a green-brown hill erupting out of the cover of the trees some distance to the south.

Rainbow nodded. "Thanks," she said. "We'll be back to tell you the job is done and you can rest easy." Nobody looked particularly enthusiastic about that, but Rainbow once more either didn't notice or pretended she didn't notice or just didn't care as she turned back towards the airship. Blake, once more, was left to follow.

"We should do something for those people," she said as they both leapt back inside the Skyray.

"We are doing something; we're saving them from the grimm," Rainbow said. "We're huntsmen; that's our job as far as helping people goes. Twilight, take us up and head for that hill, but leave the door open this time."

"Okay," Twilight said.

"It's not enough!" Blake cried as the airship began to rise out of the hollow. "It isn't right that their choices boil down to put up with exploitation or go live in the woods!"

"No, it isn't, but what are we supposed to do about it?" Rainbow demanded. "We can't give them healthcare; we can't give them better jobs. This isn't even Atlas. These are Valish companies-"

"Working for the Atlas military and the SDC and probably other Atlesian organisations too," Blake replied. "What if Atlas refused to deal with any company that wasn't treating its employees with the dignity that they deserve?"

"That… is actually a pretty good idea," Rainbow admitted. "Hey, Twilight, why don't you suggest that to Cadance?"

"I'll bring it up next time I see her," Twilight promised, her voice calling out from the cockpit.

"There? You see?" Rainbow smiled briefly. "Listen, Blake, what's going on there isn't great, but we're just huntsmen; we can't fix the whole world's problems. Right now, all we can do is save lives."

"I know," Blake murmured, "but I want so much more than that."

"I know that too," Rainbow replied. "That's why I said 'right now.'"

Blake's eyes narrowed. "What do you-?"

"We're coming up on the hill now," Twilight called.

Rainbow pushed Blake back a couple of steps. "Ciel, get into position."

"Understood," Ciel said, stepping forward until she was standing on the edge of the airship looking out. Over her right eye, she was wearing some kind of visor with an electric blue glow and symbols of some kind flashing across it. She knelt, raising her monstrous rifle to her shoulder, looking down the scope.

The Skyray circled the hill. Blake peered down into the woods that surrounded it but saw nothing.

There was no sound but the droning of the airship's engines as they circled. The woods below seemed placid, calm and quiet, devoid even of normal woodland life, never mind the grimm.

Suddenly, Ciel's rifle jerked to the left before she fired with a roar. "Got one!" she said.

Blake looked again. There… yes, in the shadow of the trees; it was faint, but she could make it out, dark shadows moving around the base of the hill.

Ciel fired again, and the air began to fill with the howling of beowolves as they raged impotently against the Atlesian airship.

"Should we jump 'em?" Sun asked.

"Not yet," Rainbow muttered from where she stood, one hand resting upon the airship door. "Twilight, stay on them."

"I can't see them very well," Twilight said.

"Head south!" Ciel barked, just before her rifle thundered forth again.

The airship banked south. Blake couldn't blame Twilight for not being to see the grimm very well; she couldn't see them too well either. They were only shadows, darting across the gaps between the trees, vague black shapes that she could only just make out in the forest shade. It was a miracle – or a tribute to the technology in her visor – that Ciel was able to hit them so consistently. Or at least, Blake thought she was hitting them consistently; she wasn't showing the kind of irritation that would suggest she was missing.

"They're turning to the right," she said, and Twilight turned the Skyray in turn, the airship tilting slightly on its axis to keep pace with their prey, the prey Blake might not have known were there if it weren't for the howls of outrage issuing from their mouths.

"Ciel, how many of them left?" Rainbow asked.

Ciel fired again. "Thirty at an estimate, including their alpha."

"Okay," Rainbow said, looking at a map on her scroll. "There's a clearing to the south. I'm going to get out on the other side of them, and we're going to drive them that way; once they reach the clearing, Twilight, let them have it with the missiles, then Penny, Blake, Sun, get out, and we'll finish them off." She grinned at Blake as she pulled her crimson goggles down over her eyes. "You won't hunt like this outside of Atlas, I promise."

She didn't give Blake time to respond before she leapt out of the airship, her Wings of Harmony unfurling on either side of her as she soared over the treetops, Plain Awesome in one hand and Brutal Honesty in the other, both machine guns blazing with fire as she spat bullets down at the unseen grimm below.

Blake couldn't see the beowolves, but as Ciel barked out instructions for Twilight to turn this way or that, as Rainbow kept pace with the Skyray from some distance away, Blake found that she could imagine what was happening down in the forest: the grimm were the flock, and the Skyray and Rainbow Dash were the sheepdogs, herding them south. South, away from the faunus camped in the woods, and whilst not long ago, Blake would have assumed that was a happy accident, now… now, she was far less certain.

The crack of Ciel's rifle was the constant accompaniment of their flight, a counterpoint to the droning of the engine, interrupting the howling of the beowolves as they tried to flee from a foe they could not reach. The staccato rattle of Rainbow's submachine guns were farther off and dimmed by distance, but Blake hoped they were no less effective for being quieter.

She could not see the grimm, but she could see the clearing to which they were driving the grimm: an open, roughly oval shape where the trees had receded and the sunlight suffused the area. Once the grimm broke into that clearing, then Blake would be able to see them.

Then they would all be able to see them.

Ciel fired again. "Twilight, fire the missiles."

Twilight squeaked in alarm. "Uh, this is… whatever, firing starboard missiles!"

The airship's nose appeared to explode with flame as the firing ports opened and missiles streaked out, trailing flame and white vapour as they swept like thunderbolts down into the clearing, exploding across the open ground, turning trees on the edge of the wood to splinters, churning up the ground, kicking up grass and soil and consuming the meadow in fire for a brief, brilliant moment.

Blake saw Rainbow Dash drop to the ground a moment before the Skyray soared over the clearing, and she could see the surviving beowolves – perhaps a score in all – milling around their great alpha as Rainbow Dash landed on the ground and blew the head off a grimm with Unfailing Loyalty.

Blake leapt out the Skyray, throwing her hook to catch upon a tree and ease her landing at the edge of the meadow. A grimm pounced upon her but found only a shadow clone before the real Blake leapt upon it from behind and sliced it in half with her cleaver. Penny landed in the centre of the clearing, her Floating Array out in carbine mode, green laser beams striking out in all directions. Sun clubbed a beowolf over the head and then shot it twice in the chest to finish it off with Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang.

The alpha beowolf roared, dropping to all fours so as to present to its enemies a back covered in armour plates and spines of bone, covering its vulnerable black underbelly. A shot from Ciel's rifle ricocheted off it. The alpha let out a huff that sounded almost like laughter.

Blake dashed across the eaves of the forest, cutting down another beowolf with Gambol Shroud as she did so, and threw her hook towards the alpha. With luck – and not inconsiderable skill – she buried it in a chink of black flash between two plates of bleached white armour. The alpha howled in pain as Blake hauled back upon the silken thread, pulling so hard that the alpha beowolf reared up, baring its chest to the world.

"Rainbow Dash, now!" Blake yelled.

Rainbow didn't need telling twice. She ran forward, trailing a rainbow behind her as she leapt, fist drawn back, speeding towards the alpha faster than its paw could swipe towards her.

She punched the alpha square in the chest, and as she struck, there was a booming sound like thunder as the alpha beowolf's chest exploded. Moments later, the rest of it began to follow suit, turning to ashes before their eyes.

And then it was all over, bar the mopping up.

By the time they returned to the camp in the hollow, Twilight setting the airship down exactly where she had before. Some of the faunus were a little less wary of the Skyray this second time, but most still seemed keen to keep their distance.

"Okay, everyone out this time," Rainbow said.

"'Everyone'?" Penny gasped eagerly.

"Everyone," Rainbow confirmed. "And help me get this stuff out," she added, gesturing to the 'vital supplies' that she, Ciel, and Sun had carried out of the armoury.

Blake picked up a case; it was heavy, but that still wasn't much help in working out what was inside as she climbed out alongside the other members of the extended team.

Once more, they were met by the donkey faunus, who seemed to be the leader of the group, officially or otherwise.

"The grimm are taken care of?" he asked.

"Yep," Rainbow declared. "You won't have to worry about them any more. At least… as long as you stay around here."

The leader of the camp nodded gravely. "Indeed. Once we move on, there will be other grimm to worry about."

"Unless you don't move on," Rainbow suggested.

The donkey faunus shook his head. "We will not go back. Now that we've walked away… we cannot crawl back and admit we were wrong. We have drunk of the waters of freedom; it is not so easy to go back to drinking tainted water after that."

"For what it's worth," Blake said, "I think that the Atlesians who advise you to return within the walls really do have your safety at heart." That's not something I thought I'd ever say, but that doesn't make it any less true.

"I believe it too," the leader of the camp replied, "but that does not change our answer. We will not go back."

"Then at least let Captain Sandleford give you a going away present," Rainbow said as she put her case down on the ground and opened it up, revealing a pair of grey metallic long-barrelled rifles topped with scopes.

"This," Rainbow said, pulling one of the guns out of its case, "is a Designated Marksman Rifle: semi-automatic, twelve round magazine; you can use it to hunt for food or to keep grimm away. There are also a couple of shotguns and four pistols. Not a whole lot of ammunition for them, but it should be enough to get you someplace where you can trade for more or rely on someone like us to protect you."

The faunus' eyes widened. "Guns? For us?"

"Captain Sandleford was worried you had no way of protecting yourself if you wouldn't come back to town," Rainbow explained. "So here they are, with his compliments. Also some MREs in one of these cases, because the captain also wants to poison you before you get wherever you're going."

The camp leader chuckled. "Tell Captain Sandleford that we have eaten much worse than his field rations and will not grumble about them as his soldiers do." He stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Thank you."

Rainbow was still holding the DMR in one hand as she clasped the leader's hand with her other. "Good luck out there," she said, handing over the rifle. "Ciel, show these people how to use their new weapons. Penny, Sun, start distributing the rations."

"Affirmative!"

Rainbow turned to Blake, holding her arms out on either side of her. "Surprise!"

Blake folded her arms. "You… you're arming and feeding these people."

"Yep."

"Why?" Blake asked. "I thought that you'd-"

"They're not slaves; they don't have to work anywhere they don't want to," Rainbow said with a shrug. "Captain Sandleford understands that, and so do I."

"How is he going to get away with giving them guns?"

"He'll just mark them damaged beyond repair, say that they broke in a training exercise or something and get new guns shipped in from Atlas," Rainbow explained. "Stuff breaks all the time on a base like this."

Blake bit her lip. “And what… what if…?” What if they turn these weapons against you?

“They won’t,” Rainbow said, reading her mind.

“How can you be so sure?” Blake asked. “How can you be sure that this isn’t exactly how the White Fang got some of their weapons?”

“Because the White Fang don’t take charity; they steal stuff,” Rainbow replied. “Look, I know that the White Fang end up with ex-Atlesian gear sometimes, but I also know that the stuff they end up with isn’t the stuff that we’re giving out to the needy. Besides, do you think that we issue guns to just anybody? We’re better judges of character than that.”

“But-”

“No buts; just stop worrying so much,” Rainbow said. She walked towards Blake, a smile playing across her face. "We killed some grimm, helped some people, and all's right with the world."

Blake's eyebrows rose. "'All's right with the world'?"

"Okay, maybe not the whole world," Rainbow acknowledged, "but this little bit of the world? I think it's doing pretty good. Today was a good day."

Blake held her gaze. Whoever would have thought that I would be in this position?

Whoever would have thought it wouldn't bother me that much?

"Today," she agreed, "was a good day."

On the Night Before Departing (New)

On the Night Before Departing

“Aww, I can’t believe my little sister is setting off on her first official mission tomorrow!” Yang cooed from out of her scroll. “And I’m not there to say goodbye.”

Ruby lay on her stomach on her bed, her scroll held up in front of her face, even as her sister’s face filled up the scroll in front of her. She beamed. “I know! It’s amazing, isn’t it? I mean, I know that we’ve fought before – even when we weren’t supposed to – and I suppose you could say that going after that karkadann in Mistral maybe counts as our first official mission, but this time it’s officially official, if you know what I mean.”

Yang smiled back at her. “I think I do,” she said, “but explain it anyway, so I know for sure.”

Ruby covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled; it was a habit she found she’d picked up from Pyrrha, who did it for reasons that Ruby hadn’t bothered to ask her about. Maybe it was more ladylike than just laughing. Or maybe she didn’t want to spit on people. It didn’t really matter, she’d gotten Ruby doing it anyway. “It’s like… in Mistral, there wasn’t any other choice. There was no one else around to take care of the grimm. Except for that Arslan girl who’s really mad at Sunset right now. Anyway, there was nobody but her, and I guess Professor Lionheart didn’t know about her because he asked us to do it because there was no one else. But these are our teachers, and they know who we are, and there are plenty of other teams that they could have chosen for this mission… but they chose us.”

That was… maybe not entirely true, considering that it seemed like Professor Ozpin had given them this mission specifically so that they could go to Cold Harbour and meet up with Blake and Team RSPT, but at the same time, it was sort of true since it still showed that Professor Ozpin thought they had what it took to undertake not only this mission but also the plan to capture Torchwick – or someone important from the White Fang – that the two teams had come up with together.

She hadn’t told Yang about that part. Her sister was really supportive about an official mission, but she might not look so favourably upon joining the Atlesians for a secret operation, no matter how cool it was.

“So,” Yang said, “once the repairs to the railway are done, how are you going to get back to Beacon?”

“Well, the repair train is going to carry on north to prove that they actually fixed the line,” Ruby told her, “and we’ll go with it and catch another train back south.” Wow, I can’t believe I actually lied to Yang.

And that it was so easy.

It probably helped that it was all true; I just didn’t tell her that when I say we’re going to get a train, I meant that we’re going to hide in an Atlesian cargo train and hope that the White Fang try to rob it so we can catch them in the act.

“That makes sense, I guess,” Yang said. “Funny how we’ve both gotten missions that involve standing around and guarding other guys while they repair stuff.”

Ruby snorted. “Yeah, I guess we have. So how are you doing out there? What’s it like on the edge of Vale?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Yang replied easily; her picture jogged up and down a little, Ruby guessed that she was carrying her scroll towards the rest of her team. “In fact, we’re all doing fine. Hey, guys, say hi to Ruby.”

“Hi, Ruby!” Nora’s voice drowned out the softer greetings of Ren and Dove, just as her face crowded out of that Yang as well as her two male teammates, even as Yang tried to get all four of their faces into the image. “Did I hear right that Team Sapphire just got a mission too?”

“Yep!” Ruby said. “We’re heading out with some railway workers to protect them while they fix the line through the Forever Fall.”

“Man, they weren’t kidding when they said these missions were going to come thick and fast, huh?” Nora asked.

“Indeed,” Ren murmured. “It appears that Beacon’s reputation for rigorous field training is well earned.”

“Be careful out there, Ruby,” Dove urged.

“Don’t tell her to be careful; it makes you sound like you don’t have any faith in her!” Nora cried. “Kick butt out there, Ruby! We believe in you!”

“Be careful and kick butt,” Yang ordered. “And come back with some awesome stories about your field trip.”

“Sure,” Ruby agreed, a little nervously when she thought about what those stories might involve. “You too.”

“Too bad we don’t have any cool stories,” Nora moaned.

“That bad, huh?” Ruby asked.

“Our mission has been a complete success,” Ren informed. “It’s just that success has also been a little boring.”

“Do you have any idea how dull it is just sitting around watching people build a wall?” Nora demanded.

“At least that means there are no grimm around and everyone’s safe,” Ruby observed, trying to look on the bright side.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ve been trying to tell her that,” Ren pointed out.

“What’s it like working with a professional huntsman?” Ruby asked eagerly.

“Well, he’s no Uncle Qrow, but he’s still pretty cool, I guess,” Yang replied.

“I’m kind of jealous that we don’t have a real huntsman on our mission,” Ruby admitted.

“You don’t have a professional huntsman coming with you?” Dove demanded.

“Dove!” Nora yelled. “Confidence!”

“What kind of training mission doesn’t have a professional?” Dove demanded again.

“The kind where the team on the mission is so awesome they don’t need a babysitter,” Ruby said.

Yang guffawed. “Oho, big talk from someone on the other side of Vale, Rubes.”

“We won’t be here when you get back!” Ruby cried, sticking out her tongue.

“But you’ll have to come back eventually,” Yang reminded her.

“Yeah, well…” By then, there’ll be other things to worry about. “I’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

“Just worry about your mission tomorrow, and tonight,” Yang said. “But don’t worry too much! But worry enough! Maintain a healthy and constructive level of worry. And pack clean underwear!”

“Goodnight, Yang,” Ruby said firmly.

Yang laughed. “Goodnight, Ruby. And good luck out there. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ruby said. “Stay safe. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Ruby!” Nora shouted.

“Goodnight,” Dove and Ren added more quietly.

“Goodnight,” Yang said again before she hung up the call.

Ruby stared down at the blank screen for a moment. She rolled over onto her side. Jaune and Pyrrha were out training, but Sunset was still here, sitting at the other end of the room with a big, heavy, book resting upon her knees, scribbling in it.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked.

Sunset looked up. “Hey, Ruby. How’s Yang?”

“Couldn’t you hear?”

“I was trying not to,” Sunset replied. “Plus, I was a little distracted by my own thing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, just writing a journal entry,” Sunset said. “Full of anticipation for our success upon the morrow.”

“So you’re excited then?”

“Yes, I’m excited, it’s our third mission.”

“I think it’s our first,” Ruby replied.

“Then what were the karkadann and the White Fang at the docks?” Sunset demanded.

“The White Fang at the docks wasn’t an official mission,” Ruby pointed out.

Sunset seemed to consider that point. “Okay, if you want to be official about it, but the karkadann still counts. What’s more official than the Headmaster of Haven seeking us out personally for a mission?”

“The only one he sought out personally was Pyrrha.”

“Details, details,” Sunset declared dismissively. “Do you know what the important thing about history is, Ruby?”

“It’s old?” Ruby tried.

Sunset snorted. “History is not written by the victor. History isn’t even written by the privileged. History is written by those who bother to put pen to paper, and I can’t see Pyrrha writing a memoir, can you?”

Ruby giggled. “She’d probably be horrified at the idea.”

“Exactly,” Sunset said. “I, on the other hand, have no trouble writing that Professor Lionheart sought out our entire team, on account of how well we’d done against the White Fang at the docks.”

“Is that why you keep a journal? To make up stuff to make yourself look better?”

“I’m not talking about making things up; I’m talking about… massaging the truth a little bit,” Sunset said with a touch of asperity. “But… no, this journal… this is more for my own piece of mind.” She paused for a moment. “So how is Yang?”

“Nora’s bored,” Ruby informed her team leader, “but I think Yang’s taking it pretty well.”

“The boredom?”

Ruby nodded. “It sounds like nothing’s happened except they’ve watched some people build a wall. Which is a good thing. We shouldn’t wish for grimm attacks that might hurt people just because we like the excitement of fighting them off.”

“On the other hand, if there was no excitement at all in this job, then arguably, there wouldn’t be a need for huntsmen,” Sunset mused. “If you know what I mean.”

“I think so. You mean that the only way there’d be no excitement is if there were no grimm?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Ruby replied. “So you are excited?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Sunset asked. “You?”

Ruby nodded. “Like I said, it’s our first official mission.”

“Why is that?” Sunset demanded. “Why doesn’t the karkadann count?”

“Because it wasn’t Professor Ozpin who gave us that mission,” Ruby explained.

“That’s not inherently a bad thing,” Sunset muttered.

“You really don’t like him, do you?”

“Why should I like him? He hasn’t done anything to earn my affection or my trust,” Sunset said. “He set us up over that White Fang business, almost got you killed, and then he had the nerve to punish us for it!”

“He did not set us up,” Ruby insisted.

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“How do you know he did?” Ruby countered.

“Because… he knew Blake was a faunus!” Sunset cried.

“So?”

“So… he must have known something like this would happen the moment he allowed Team Rosepetal to come to Beacon.”

“How could he have known that?”

“Because I’m starting to think that Blake is incredibly predictable once you know what her deal is,” Sunset muttered. “And Rainbow Dash even moreso. It was inevitable that bringing those two together would produce a conflagration.”

“Sunset, can I be honest? That sounds like a real reach.”

“He knows about your eyes,” Sunset said sharply. “He knows about your eyes, that is incontrovertible; we have that from your mother’s own hand, not to mention that he specifically pointed out your eyes to you without mentioning what made them special.”

Ruby shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I’m sure he had a good reason for that.”

“He might think he has a good reason, but it doesn’t follow that it really is a good reason,” Sunset shot back. “Certainly, it doesn’t follow that it’s good for us.”

“My mom trusted him.”

“So far as you’ve read.”

Ruby frowned. “What is it about him that bothers you so much?”

“More than what I just said?”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed.

Sunset looked away. “I’m done being used as a tool of others,” she said. “What I do, I do for myself, of my own will.”

“What if it’s for a good cause?”

“If it is for a good cause, then I’ll decide that for myself, according to my own lights,” Sunset said. “I go my own way.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “There’s a good reason why he told my mom more than he’s telling me.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I’m not sure,” Ruby said, “but I believe it.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.”

“And you can’t be happy being so suspicious.”

Sunset frowned. She changed the subject, or at least, she changed it back to what it had been before. “Why does his opinion really mean so much to you?”

“Because he’s our headmaster,” Ruby said. “So if he thinks we’re ready to do this, then that means something. Or at least, I think it does.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “We are ready to do this.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “It’s going to be great. We’ll fix the railroad, catch Torchwick, and put a wrench in all the White Fang’s plans.”

Sunset chuckled. “Yeah, we’re going to kick all kinds of ass.”

Ruby grinned but was distracted before she could say anything else by a text appearing on her scroll.

Hey, Ruby.

“Who is it?” Sunset asked.

“It’s Juturna,” Ruby said. “Do you mind if I-?”

“Be my guest,” Sunset said. “I need to finish up here.

Ruby smiled as she turned her attention away from Sunset and focussed fully upon her scroll. Hey, Juturna. How’s it going?

Great! Bro and Camilla let me go out into the field with them! I knew that persistent and annoying begging would pay off!

Ruby snorted and giggled at the same time. Where did you go? What kind of mission was it?

Councillor Timur’s son has just joined the Survey Corps, and his dad wanted to make sure that his kid was safe on his trip out into the field, so he paid through the nose for Turnus to take him out on his survey personally. Turnus didn’t think there was likely to be any trouble – or at least, with him and Camilla and a load of our guys there, he wasn’t worried about trouble – so he decided that it would be a good chance for me to come too.

How was it?

Awesome! I got to see Camilla take down a giant nevermore, it was the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.

How did she do it?

First of all, she let it get close, like, so close I thought it was about to swallow her, and Turnus couldn’t help because he was dealing with some manticores at the time, but anyway, this nevermore comes right in, and then Camilla shoots it in the face with a exploding arrow, and then, as the nevermore starts to turn away, she shot it with some arrows that turned to ice and wrecked its wing so that it crashed on the ground, and then she drove her sword into its eye and did something with dust that I don’t really know what exactly, but that killed it.

Ice dust on the wing. I’ll try and remember that. So, do you think that you’ll go out into the field again?

I don’t know.

Won’t they let you?

Maybe. I’m just not sure if I want to.

Oh. Yeah. I guess that that kind of life isn’t for everyone. She could not help but feel a little disappointed, although she wasn’t going to let on about that to Juturna. It would have been nice if her long distance pal had been a huntress from another kingdom… but she supposed she already knew a lot of huntresses, or huntresses in training. I’m going out into the field soon myself.

Yeah?

Yeah. Me and my team have gotten a mission to protect some railway workers while they fix, well, a railway.

Railway workers. So nobody important then.

Ruby couldn’t help but frown. Of course they’re important, they’re people.

You say the funniest things sometimes, Ruby. Do you want to play Warring Tribes?

Sure. It was… better than asking Juturna why she thought it was funny to say that every life was precious and worth protecting. Ruby… Ruby didn’t really want to think about the answer to that.

Juturna was just kidding, she was just trying to get a rise out of me, the way Yang says embarrassing stuff to make people squirm.

Yang never implied anything quite like that, but still.

Let’s just play the game.

Sunset returned her attention to the journal in front of her. Excuse me, Princess Celestia; I shouldn’t keep you waiting like this.

Sunset found that she could almost hear Princess Celestia’s voice, gently amused, as her words crawled across the page in an old-fashioned script. That’s quite alright, Sunset. I take it that something came up closer to home than I?

You could say that. Ruby finished her call with her sister and wanted to talk.

You might have invited her to join us. I would so like to speak to your friends.

Sunset found herself smiling, despite herself; but she was sufficiently in control of herself that her smile had a slightly nervous edge to it. If it’s all the same to you, Princess, I’d rather keep this between us. As far as Ruby knows, this is just an ordinary diary in which I set down my thoughts.

And you wish it to remain so.

I still haven’t told them everything about me yet. Admitting to them all that I have magic was hard enough; how am I supposed to tell them that I’m a unicorn from another world? No offence to everyone back in Equestria, but I’ll sound insane.

I suppose I will have to take your word for that, Sunset, without taking any offence in the matter. It is, of course, your choice what to tell your friends.

Sunset snorted. You know, if I was talking to Twilight instead of to you, she’d probably tell me that consistent honesty is the only way to maintain a friendship.

And she would be absolutely right, but I understand that there are certain times and certain occasions when it is advisable to keep certain things hidden, even from those who are dear to us.

Like a princess’ destiny.

Quite. So, tomorrow you go forth to fight?

Indeed. Tomorrow, we board a train into peril.

You have chosen your path, and I wish you well in it, but nevertheless

I can hear you sighing from all the way in another dimension, Princess Celestia.

She could hear her old mentor chuckling too, as the princess resumed writing. Please forgive me, Sunset, but please also try to understand: as my sisters and I struggled to forge Equestria out of a land of quarrelsome tribes and savage monsters, we sometimes had recourse to battle. I steeled myself for it with the hope that future generations would, as a result of our labours, be spared the need to do so. I cannot deny it grieves me that, for you at least, my hope has been in vain.

I think, if Ruby were to write in this book, she would tell you that she shares the feelings that made you steel yourself to fight. Even if Ruby has no hope of the final victory that will free those who come after from this constant war, I know that Pyrrha possesses it in her wildest dreams and fights all the harder in such a purpose.

And you, Sunset?

So long as we all come out of this in one piece, I will be content.

You are concerned?

Something else I’m not anxious to tell Ruby. Were you nervous before a battle?

With so much at stake, how could I not be? The fate of so many of my little ponies seemed to depend upon it.

I’m not worried about the stakes so much as upon the fate of my friends. Ruby almost died the last time we went up against the White Fang.

So what will you do differently this time?

Sunset’s brow furrowed. The best strategy that I can think of is to put something between Adam and his target. Like a wall or something. Something that forces him to expend his attack. A shield, maybe; I think he would probably cut through it, but in the process, he’d expend that power that he’s built up. It’s the best I can come up with at the moment anyway. The real problem is attacking him without him building up his power again.

There are spells that enable you to attack from other directions.

I know, but he’s so fast that it’s almost impossible to catch him off guard. For me to catch him off guard, anyway. Perhaps my plan should just be to let Rainbow Dash take care of him. She’s had the better of him both times they’ve crossed paths. Princess, can I ask you something? Not about battle, but about something else?

Of course, but what else?

Sunset hesitated, choosing her words with care. You kept secrets from Twilight, didn’t you?

I did not tell her everything I knew, or hoped for her, no.

Did you regret it? Did you ever feel guilty about it?

Sunset, what is this about?

It’s the headmaster, Professor Ozpin. I know full well that he’s keeping secrets from us – Ruby’s eyes for one; he knows what they are, and he hasn’t said a word to Ruby about it. I think that’s only the beginning of it. I think he knows so much more than he lets on, and I worry that he’s using us, although I haven’t quite figured out what he’s using us for yet. The others don’t believe it – they think I’m seeing things that aren’t there – but it is plausible, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you did to Twilight?

It took Princess Celestia such a long time to reply that Sunset began to fear that she had gone too far, said too much, wounded her old teacher too gravely for the conversation to continue. But, at last, words began to appear once more upon the page. I would be lying if I said that I did not understand how you come by these feelings, after what happened between us and after what you have learned about Twilight Sparkle. But I would remind you that, although I hid certain truths and certain hopes of mine from Twilight, I never outright lied to her, nor did I ever force any act upon her against her will. Is it the same with your Professor Ozpin?

He hasn’t blackmailed us, if that’s what you’re getting at. But I feel as though he’s played upon our reactions to achieve his aims; is that not bad enough?

You make it sound so, Sunbeam, but it occurs to me that a more charitable way to phrase it might be that he trusted you and your friends to do the right thing. Quite often, that is all that is required with Twilight: nudging her in the right direction and trusting her to do the right thing.

Have you and Twilight ever talked about how it felt for her to find out that you had behaved in that way?

No, we have not. I suppose you could call it nervousness on my part – you could accuse me of not having broached the subject because I know it will be an uncomfortable one and am not eager to disturb the equilibrium of my relationship with Twilight – but Twilight has never sought to raise the issue either. As much as she defers to me upon occasion, I believe that she is a sufficiently brave girl to speak up if she were genuinely troubled. Of course, you can always ask her yourself.

I might do that, but not right now. Do you think that I'm making much of nothing?

I think you are perhaps being a little uncharitable towards your headmaster.

I do not like feeling used.

Feeling used and being used are two very different things, Sunset; I would go further and say that being used in a good cause and for good reason is a quite different thing from being the tool of ill purposes.

Is there a good reason to keep the truth of Ruby's magic from her?

Perhaps, your world being so very ignorant of magic, he fears what the knowledge of it might do to Ruby. I cannot – at least I ought not – to speculate upon the thoughts of one so far removed from myself, but I urge you to consider that there may be good reasons for all that Professor Ozpin does. One might ask what reason I had to keep Twilight's destiny a secret from her, and I would be justly chided for the lie – by one who did not realise that I had been far more open with you and paid the price for it.

The fault was in my character, not in your honesty. I would take the risk again, without a second's thought, ere I would meekly consent to have a blindfold put over my eyes and fumble along the road another seeks to lead me down. Professor Ozpin is not you. He does not have your wisdom or your compassion.

Do you know him so well to say that for certain?

How can he? He is a mere mortal, just as I am; how can he possess the experience of centuries, the kindness of ages? By what right does a mere man presume to make me the instrument of his ambitions?

He is your teacher.

And because of that, I will learn his lessons. But I will not be a pawn on his chessboard.

I sense that you are stubbornly immovable on this. Very well. I will urge you to look on him – and on all those who attend your school – with charity, but I will say no more upon it. Good luck on your journey, Sunset Shimmer, and come back safe.

Thank you, Princess. Goodnight.

Pyrrha parried so sloppily that her mother would have started foaming at the mouth to see it.

Jaune did not follow up his unexpected advantage. Instead, he stepped back, Crocea Mors falling to his side. "What's up?" he asked, his gorgeous blue eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Um, what do you mean?" Pyrrha asked. It was the night before they would set on their first Beacon training mission, but Pyrrha had not seen any reason to let that disrupt their nightly routine too much – provided that they completed their preparations and got to bed at a reasonable hour – and so, she and Jaune were out on the grounds, training in the large open space that led towards the cliffs. The moon shone down upon them, the cracked rays of silver light bathing the world.

Jaune gave her a very knowing look. "Come on, Pyrrha; I haven't improved that much, and while I know you pull your punches, it's never to that extent. I nearly had you there."

For a moment, Pyrrha was tempted to tell him that he was getting that much better… but he would recognise that as a lie, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was trying to sugar over his shortcomings. She turned away from him, feeling the hairs of her long ponytail brush against her back as it swayed gently behind her. "You're right," she murmured, her hands – still holding her weapons – falling to her side. "I am a little distracted."

Jaune sheathed his sword within his shield, though he did not yet collapse the shield itself. "What's wrong?" he asked as he took a step towards her.

"Nothing's wrong," Pyrrha insisted. "Or at least, I hope nothing's wrong." Pyrrha bit her lip. She was no good at all with this sort of thing; she'd never… in her imagination, it wasn't this difficult. "Jaune… Jaune, can we talk for a moment?"

Now, Jaune collapsed his shield back into its sheath form, the more easily to fasten it back onto his belt. "Uh, sure," he said, sounding about as nervous as Pyrrha felt. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Could we," Pyrrha glanced at him, wondering how frightened she felt. She put her weapons away; it felt ridiculous to be holding them like this as she prepared to talk about her feelings. She slung Akoúo̱ across her back and wedged Miló behind it as she said, "Could we talk about us?"

"'Us'?"

"Is there an us?" Pyrrha asked, her voice trembling slightly like the first shaking of the ground that presages an earthquake. Words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. "In Mistral, when we kissed, I thought that you and I would… but then… I mean, after we came back, we… I don't know… I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"It's okay," Jaune said, his voice so soothing and so gentle, almost as if he were trying to calm a skittish horse. "I… I should have done something before now instead of… this, whatever you call this."

Should have done what? It occurred to Pyrrha – it had occurred to Pyrrha, more than once – that Jaune might have discovered that there was not much to her beyond her name and her admitted good looks. She fought to resist the urge to hug herself as she turned away from him yet further. "If… if you don't… if-"

"No!" Jaune cried. "No, Pyrrha, that's not what I'm trying to say at all. I… Pyrrha, will you look at me?"

Pyrrha hesitated a moment and then turned back to face him. She looked at Jaune only to find him looking anywhere but at Pyrrha. His eyes darted from here to there like flies never settling on any surface for too long in terror of the spray or the swatter.

"I… I have seven sisters," he said. "Six of them are older than me, and three of them are married by now. Rouge and River had their husbands chosen for them by our parents. Hard-working, reliable boys who could take over the farm." He said that last with a slight but noticeable inflection in his voice, as though he were imitating someone else, perhaps his father. Pyrrha was not blind to the implication that Jaune himself was not hard-working or reliable, or at least, he had not been thought so.

Oh, Jaune. If only they'd been able to see the you that I see.

"Saphron… left," Jaune added. "So I didn't get to see how she and Terra… the point is that I have no idea what I'm doing… which pretty much sums up everything about me since I got to Beacon, doesn't it?"

"Jaune-" Pyrrha began, but he cut her off before she could finish – not intentionally she thought – it was just that he had more to say and wanted to say it.

"And then," he went on. "You… you're you, Pyrrha! You're beautiful and smart and strong, and you turned your back on your mom for me! How am I supposed to… deserve that? Especially when I've got no idea where to start?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. Then she began to laugh. She covered her mouth, but the laughter spilled out of her mouth, flowing like water around her hand to fill the night air around them.

"Hey!" Jaune cried indignantly. "What's so funny?"

"We are!" Pyrrha exclaimed. "We've both been so worried that… a fine pair of huntsmen we'll make, afraid of our own shadows like this."

"Come on, it's not like we're scared of grimm," Jaune said. "The grimm can only eat us, after all; this might embarrass us. Or we could-"

"Let each other down?" Pyrrha asked.

A smile passed fleetingly across Jaune's face. "Something like that, yeah."

Pyrrha took a step closer to him. "Jaune, when it comes to… to what I hope this is, I don't know what I'm doing either. I've never… as a result of my position in Mistral, nobody has ever… like your parents, I think my mother would have much preferred to have arranged the engagement that she… lied about, without any reference from me."

Jaune grinned. "Before I left home, my parents were trying to set me up with Miranda Wells."

"Oh, really?" Pyrrha asked, in what she very much hoped was a playful tone. "Do you…? I mean…"

"No," Jaune replied emphatically. "She thought that… she didn't think that I was any better than any of the other guys back home. Having someone who thinks you're an unsophisticated hayseed isn't much better than someone who thinks you're completely useless." He reached out and took her hands inside his own. "You've always believed in me, Pyrrha, and you've always been there for me, and that… I don't know if I can ever show you how much you mean to me… and I guess that's why I haven't been able to do anything: because I'm terrified of it not measuring up to how I feel about you or what you deserve." He paused and took a deep breath. "But… but if we want this to go anywhere then… then maybe we need to both let go of our fears… and our expectations and just… take things as they go." He took another deep breath and squeezed both Pyrrha's hands affectionately. "Pyrrha Nikos, when we get back from this mission, would you like to go… is there somewhere that you'd like to go? With me, I mean?"

Pyrrha smiled up at him. "I would love to go anywhere with you, Jaune," she whispered.

"That," Jaune said with evident relief, "is good to hear."

And then he kissed her, and the question of where, precisely, they would go became of no import at all to Pyrrha, because where they were, right here and now, was wonderful enough.

"That," she said, gasping for breath a little once it was over and Jaune took a step back. "That was… that… is probably enough for tonight." If she hadn't been able to focus properly before, she certainly wasn't going to be able to now. "We should head back."

"Sure," Jaune agreed. Pyrrha noted – with more than a hint of restrained glee – that he only let go of one hand. He kept hold of the other as they began to walk side by side back to the dorm room.

It was all she could do not to keep looking down at their held hands to make sure it was really happening.

"So," Jaune continued. "Our mission starts tomorrow."

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured with a slight sigh as the discussion turned to more prosaic topics. "Our second official mission. I'm glad that we've moved to sanctioned missions instead of just getting ourselves involved in situations."

"Well," Jaune replied, "how much the train job coming back is official is… kind of up for debate."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Pyrrha admitted. "How do you feel?"

"Honestly?"

"You can always be honest with me," Pyrrha declared. "Please… I never want you to think otherwise."

Jaune was silent for a moment. "If it was just the training mission that we were given, I wouldn't be worried at all," he said. "Protecting some guys from the grimm as they repair the railroad line, that's fine. We can handle the grimm. We've proven that, in practice and in Mistral." He grinned. "Even I can take care of an ursa now."

"You certainly can," Pyrrha agreed.

"But… the other stuff," Jaune continued. "The White Fang, Torchwick… that worries me, a little bit."

"I see," Pyrrha said softly. "You're thinking about what happened to Ruby?"

"I'm thinking about what could happen to all of us," Jaune said. "What if that Adam guy shows up? What if there are others in the White Fang who are as strong as he is? What if you get hurt this time, and I don't have enough aura left to-"

"Jaune, stop," Pyrrha insisted, coming to a halt even as she bade him quiet. "I understand, I…" she hesitated, but having urged him to be honest with her, she could hardly refuse him the same respect, could she? "I'm worried too. Down at the docks was my first time fighting someone who was trying to kill me. It's part of the life of a huntress, I know that, but that doesn't mean that I enjoyed it or that I relish the prospect of a repeat." She closed her eyes for a moment. "The grimm are creatures of darkness driven by instinct – however malevolent – to snuff out the light. That makes them dangerous, but it also makes them predictable; we can understand how they behave and, with that understanding, make them our prey. But the White Fang, the criminal Torchwick, these are people like us who have chosen a path of hatred, of violence towards their fellow men, who seek to take life, knowing that it's wrong. I… I find it easier to understand the grimm. I find it safer to understand the grimm."

"I know," Jaune said. "I can't imagine how someone could ruin lives, could take lives, with a smile on their face. I'm not sure that I want to know how they do it."

I'm not sure that I want either of us to know either, Pyrrha thought. "The thought that brings me comfort," she said, "is that the risks to us are no greater fighting the White Fang than fighting the grimm. I do not believe that they have a whole army as skilled as this Adam Taurus that hurt Ruby."

"But he still hurt Ruby-"

"And for that, he will pay, if our paths cross in battle," Pyrrha declared. He had gotten away from Rainbow Dash, but he would not get away from her if destiny brought the two of them together; for matter, she would make it her destiny to come to grips with him if he showed himself in this battle to come.

"Be careful," Jaune urged. "I… I guess I'm just thinking about our photo on the wall of Benni Havens'; I don't… I don't want our smiles to die, not yet."

"Nor do I," Pyrrha assured him. "Nor will they. I wish that the grimm were the only danger that we had to be concerned with, but the White Fang are the danger to Vale, and we cannot turn away from that. But we are strong enough to overcome this challenge."

Jaune nodded and seemed to try and make his tone more resolute. "Right," he said. "Strong enough."

"Strong enough."

Bound for Glory (Rewritten)

Bound for Glory

"Has everybody got everything?" Sunset asked as she slung her rifle over one shoulder and her pack over the other.

Pyrrha slung her shield across her back and sheathed Miló behind it. "I'm ready," she said.

"I think we're all ready," Jaune said. "As ready as we'll ever be, at least."

“Good to hear,” Sunset said. “Now-” she stopped abruptly, blinking in surprise. “What is that?”

Jaune frowned. “What’s what?”

“That!” Sunset said, clicking her fingers as she pointed at Jaune, her ears pricking up. “What’s that slung across your back?”

“Oh, this?” Jaune asked, one hand rising to touch the strap of the guitar slung across his back. “It’s my guitar.”

Sunset stared at him. “You’re… since when have you had a guitar?”

Jaune’s brow crinkled yet further in puzzlement. “Sunset, come on, I’ve always had this.”

“No, no you haven’t,” Sunset replied. “I have never seen that until this morning.”

“Well… no offence, Sunset, but you are kind of self-absorbed,” Jaune said.

“Self-absorbed, maybe, but not blind!” Sunset snapped. “Where have you been hiding that, eh?”

“I haven’t been hiding it,” Jaune replied. “Ruby, Pyrrha, you remember my guitar, don’t you?”

“I remember,” Ruby said.

“You’re very talented,” Pyrrha added.

Sunset’s gaze flickered from Pyrrha to Jaune to Ruby and then back again. She shook her head. “Am I being angel streeted or something? I have never seen that in all the time I’ve known you.”

“Sorry,” Jaune said, “but it’s still my guitar.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, then threw up her hands in despair. “You know what? Never mind. But you’d better be able to play it well.”

“He really can,” Pyrrha assured her.

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Sunset asked fondly.

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. She found herself struggling to restrain herself. “Well… perhaps,” she admitted. It wasn’t like Jaune’s skill as a huntsman, after all. She wouldn’t lie to him about that, wouldn’t pretend that he was doing better than he was, wouldn’t coddle him from the reality of his situation. But this was different; there would be no harm in telling her boyfriend that he was a slightly better musician than he was.

My boyfriend. I have a boyfriend!

I have a wonderful, kind, brave boyfriend, and he sees me for who I really am.

Words could scarcely express how happy she felt. And not just because of her relationship, although that was undoubtedly part of it, and a substantial part too. She had a boyfriend and two of the best friends she could have wished for. Pyrrha couldn't think of any group of people she felt so...so comfortable around as she did around these three. She felt no concern within her as to how they would react to her or what they wanted from her or whether they were wearing masks around her to hide themselves and be what they thought she wanted them to be. There was no trace of sycophancy from them, none at all; there was no pedestal in this room. And for that, she would never cease to be grateful.

She'd never felt this way before, certainly not since her father passed away and never with her mother that she could remember, nor with anyone else. It was, if not quite a unique experience for her, then at the very least so close as to make little difference.

She went on, “But it happens to be true, doesn’t it Ruby?”

“Jaune’s really good,” Ruby agreed.

“I wouldn’t know, because apparently all of my memories of that thing have been stolen!” Sunset snapped. “But… okay, listen up." She paused and cleared her throat with a cough into one hand. She looked momentarily self-conscious, standing in front of the rest of them after having drawn their attention, but then she recovered her usual air of unassailable confidence as she resumed speaking.

"On the day after initiation, when I became the leader of this team, it became clear to me that we would have eyes upon us," Sunset said. "Eyes on Pyrrha, waiting expectantly for her to fulfil the potential promised by her early successes."

Pyrrha's chin dipped, almost involuntarily, at the reminder.

"Eyes on Ruby, to see if she really deserved her early admission into Beacon," Sunset said. "Eyes on me, if not as many as I might have liked and not for the reasons that I would have chosen: to see if a faunus deserved to lead a team as good as this one. But now we all have eyes on us, eyes not fixed on any one of us but on all four of us. Eyes watching to see if we can get the job done. Eyes watching to see if we can bring down the White Fang. Eyes watching to see if we are so talented as our membership ought by all rights to make us. Eyes watching to see what we do next.

"This is Team Sapphire's…” She paused and grinned at Ruby. “This is Team Sapphire’s first official mission. Assigned to us by the authorities here at Beacon.”

“Told you!” Ruby declared.

Sunset didn’t acknowledge her beyond the grin of her face growing just a little broader. “We were chosen for this, not Iron, not Wisteria, but us: Sapphire.” Sunset paused for breath. "There's a bit of a downside to having hype around you, which I suspect that some of you know already." She glanced at Pyrrha for a moment. "You have to live up to it again and again. But this is the first time. So don't let me down, okay, because... because I promise that I don't intend to let you down."

Jaune nodded. "We won't let ourselves down either."

"Yeah!" Ruby said as she punched the air. "Let's go save the world and whoop some butt!"

Any world saving, or indeed butt-whooping, was preemptively interrupted by all four of their scrolls going off at once.

The caller turned out, upon answering, to be Yang, her face filling up one corner of Pyrrha's screen as the faces of Ruby, Jaune, and Sunset appeared in three other windows around it.

"Yang?" Ruby asked, her voice echoing as it emerged out of the three other scrolls in the room before Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha all put themselves on mute. Pyrrha found Jaune and herself both moving a little closer to Ruby, so that if they needed to speak, their voices would carry to Ruby's scroll.

Yang's smile was a little tight and seemed a little forced to Pyrrha; she fancied that she was a good judge of such things, having worn plenty of fake smiles over the course of her life. "Hey, Ruby," she said. "Hey, guys. Good luck on your mission today. Take care of one another."

"We will," Jaune assured her. "Are you that worried that you had to check up on us?"

"She's not checking up on us; she's worried about something," Sunset said bluntly.

"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, but it's written on your face," Sunset said to Yang.

That doesn't mean you should draw attention to it, Pyrrha thought.

"Yang?" Ruby repeated. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Yang said quickly. "Well… that is…" She hesitated. "I didn't mention this last night, and I wasn't sure if I ought to bring it up, but… Ruby, do you remember when Raven appeared in the courtyard? Just before semester started?"

Pyrrha found that her lips were pursing almost despite herself. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Yang to feel abandoned by her mother, to know that your mother was a deserter, that most wretched of men. Her inability to imagine it was so complete that she did not dare to speak of it, and yet, it seemed that her disapproval was making itself known upon her face regardless. She controlled herself, assuming with a practiced ease the mask that she had worn for so long, subsuming Pyrrha Nikos and her opinions beneath the visage of the Invincible Girl, a doll without thoughts or hopes of her own who merely reflected others hopes and dreams back at them.

"Sure," Ruby said cautiously. "I remember."

"She said that this is how it would start," Yang murmured, "with you getting training missions."

"Extra training missions," Ruby reminded Yang. "She said we'd get extra missions."

Technically, one might say that we are getting an extra mission, Pyrrha thought, if one knew about our return plans.

"Okay, but it's still really early in the semester; there's plenty of time for you to get 'extra' missions," Yang pointed out.

"Yeah, but you got a mission even before we did," Ruby reminded her. Her tone was playful as she said, "So maybe you're the one that Professor Ozpin is taking a special interest in."

Sunset snorted. "There's nothing special about Team Iron."

"I heard that, Sunset," Yang declared. "Listen, I… I know that it's Raven and that I probably shouldn't listen to her, but I was awake half the night thinking about this stuff, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't remind you. I don't know what it means, but… be careful out there, okay? All of you, but especially you."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "We'll be fine, Yang. We'll protect each other."

"You do that," Yang told her. "You… I'll see you when you get back." She hung up.

"Do you… do you think we should have told her?" Ruby said, as she put away her scroll. "About, you know, the White Fang and stuff?"

"You're her sister; how do you think she would have taken it?" Sunset replied.

"Uh..."

"That's what I thought," Sunset said. "What your sister doesn't find out until after the fact won't hurt her."

"Will it hurt us when she does find out?" Jaune asked. He hesitated for a moment. "What do you think it means? What she said about her…” – he hesitated with a glance at Ruby – “about Raven and everything?"

Pyrrha wanted to tell Jaune to pay it no mind. Professor Ozpin was both formidable in accomplishment and impeccable in character; his deeds as a huntsman spoke for themselves, as did the preeminence amongst the four academies which Beacon Academy had attained under his stewardship. Meanwhile, neither vice nor scandal marred the headmaster's reputation: he did not gamble, philander, or drink to excess; in all his years as headmaster, there had never been the slightest suggestion that he was in any way abusing the students under his care. Even Pyrrha's mother respected him, and that was no small accomplishment. He was a marble man, unblemished by any merely human imperfection.

Pyrrha couldn't imagine why Professor Ozpin might bear any malicious intent towards them. Nor could she imagine why such malice – if it existed – would express itself in offering them convenient missions. She couldn't conceive of what Professor Ozpin might have to gain from manipulating them in any way. Quite apart from any of that, however... Pyrrha didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to live in a world where authority figures were unworthy of the public trust or of her own faith, where they had ulterior motives or worked towards shadowy and unseen ends.

Pyrrha looked at Sunset, who had made it abundantly clear how much she disagreed with Pyrrha upon this topic; Sunset – Pyrrha meant no offence to say or think so – seemed as a rule a little more inclined to distrust than Pyrrha herself.

But all Sunset said was, "At the moment, I'm not inclined to look too closely at it. I don't like it, and you all know that, and I'm inclined to agree with Raven as a general point, but for now... this mission is convenient for our purposes, and it is waiting for us." She started towards the door. "Destiny is driving us on. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

But before they could leave the dorm room, they were, again, interrupted; this time it was not the buzzing of a scroll but a knocking on the door which heralded this new delay. Sunset huffed and had a slight look of irritation on her face as she opened the door to reveal Cinder Fall upon the other side, wearing a fiery red dress with golden thread upon the sleeves and trimming the neckline that only added to the impression of fire.

A fire that melted Sunset's slightly testy look and burnt a smile there instead. "Cinder!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"

Cinder flashed a smile as she swept into the room. "What do you think I'm doing, Sunset? I'm here to say goodbye and bon chance." She managed to keep her smile in place even as she contrived to look playfully offended. "Why, you didn't think I'd let you leave without a word of farewell, did you? Or were you hoping to sneak out without seeing me?"

"You've caught me there," Sunset said, holding up her hands in mock admission. "And it almost worked; a couple of minutes later and you would have missed us."

"Lucky me," Cinder said. "Although not as lucky as you, getting entrusted with a mission earlier than practically anyone else."

Sunset didn’t bother to conceal her smugness. "Talent like ours is hard to ignore, I suppose."

Cinder chuckled. "Indeed," she agreed. "You're so greedy, Sunset, to monopolise all of the talent like this." She sighed, as she turned away from Sunset to look at the other three members of Team SAPR. "Oh, if only you had chosen Haven over Beacon, Pyrrha; what a killer combination we might have been."

Pyrrha put on the kind of smile that an astute observer of her – or a stalker – would have recognised from a hundred pre-match press conferences and publicity appearances. "I mean no offence, but I'm very happy where I am."

"Well, of course you are," Cinder said. "You've found your fairy tale ending, and you're poised to give Sunset hers as well. Meanwhile, I must battle on with my crew of ambitious mediocrities. Unfortunately, the talents of Mercury and Lightning are far exceeded by their opinions of themselves; why Mercury is even talking about fighting you, Pyrrha; please go easy on him." Her smouldering eyes flickered towards Jaune. "Although I suppose you're used to having to do that."

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I always try my hardest in the arena," she said.

"I never meant to insult you by suggesting otherwise," Cinder assured her. She turned away from Pyrrha and back to Sunset. "Still, when you're hip deep in grimm and covering yourselves in guts and glory in equal measure, think of me, stuck in Professor Port's class."

Sunset snorted. "Sure, I'll think of you. With pity."

Cinder chuckled. "It must be nice having Professor Ozpin on your side." She glanced at Pyrrha over her shoulder. "Although, I suppose some of you must be more used to that than others."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. Perhaps she was being oversensitive, but she couldn't help but take that as an insult. She wasn't a complete stranger to such things: amongst the crowds of fans and sycophants, there had always been a few who resented her celebrity or her perceived success and who alleged that she used both to get her own way, as though she enjoyed any of it. It was unfortunate that Cinder Fall was one of them, if only because Sunset seemed to like her, but she would survive her envy as she had survived the jealousy of all the rest.

"Everything we get," Sunset said as she took Cinder's hand, "we earn by our skill."

"Skill you have in abundance, of course," Cinder said smoothly, "but I hope you don't deny that you've enjoyed a measure of good fortune. You were very lucky in the composition of your team."

Sunset shrugged. "Fate did smile upon us, I suppose."

Cinder chuckled. "And I advise you to appreciate your good fortune while it lasts. You never know when it might just... run out."

The City of Vale had many train stations, from the gothic grandeur of King's Muster – the first or final stop, depending on how you looked at it, of trains making the westward journey all the way to Vacuo – to the hypermodern, glass and steel construction of Liver Bird Street from whence the rails ran east towards the mountains; travel to the north was principally served by Gateway Station, for passenger travel at least. The Cold Harbour route, however, was not a passenger route but a cargo one, and thus, the trains ran out of a rather dirty, industrial rail yard not far from the outskirts of the city. At present, it was quiet, with very little evidence of any activity as Team SAPR darted between stationary and unattended trucks, stepped over spurs of track left unattended on the concrete, or passed crates left mouldering in the eaves of warehouses while larger containers sat shrouded in shadow further in. The only sign of real activity was taking place around a single train – five cars attached to a single squat, almost bullet-shaped black engine – that sat purring softly as it faced northward. A group of labourers, most of them faunus, wearing red hi-vis jackets, were loading the rear two cars with equipment while a smaller cluster of other men, most of them human, in blue vests and orange hard hats, watched without offering any assistance.

"I guess that must be our train," Sunset said, as she led the way towards it.

One of the men watching the loading of the train spotted them coming and nudged a heavyset man in a blue hi-vis jacket before pointing out the team of huntresses. Said fellow – the heavyset one, and when he turned around, Pyrrha could see that he had stubble covering his face – yelled for the loading crew to keep working before he stomped across the concrete of the rail yard towards team SAPR.

"You the huntsmen?" he demanded.

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby all stopped, leaving Sunset to close the distance to this man, who was presumably some kind of foreman or supervisor. Sunset held out her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire."

"'Leader'?" he said. "That some kind of affirmative action thing?"

Jaune and Ruby winced; Pyrrha struggled to keep the disdain off her face. Even if you think such a thing, have the decency to keep it to yourself.

"No," Sunset said coldly as she withdrew her hand. "It's a quality thing. Trust me, we're the team to keep you safe on this job."

“Trust you?” the foreman said. “You’re younger than my two kids, and I wouldn’t trust them to water my plants.”

Pyrrha could only imagine the look on Sunset’s face or the struggle that her friend must be undergoing to keep her cool in this situation. If there’s one aspect of leadership that Sunset is lacking, it's diplomacy; I’m not sure how long she can hold her temper in check.

Of course, one of the reasons for that was that Sunset knew exactly who she was and what she was worth; no matter what, she was always resolutely, gloriously herself. Pyrrha envied that about her. She envied it very much.

“Well, we’re not your kids,” Sunset said in a voice that sounded close to seething. “Look, just because we’re not old, we are perfectly-”

“Hey, ain’t you Pyrrha Nikos?” one of the other men – the ones standing around watching the loading of the train, not the ones loading it – asked her suddenly, pointing his finger in Pyrrha’s direction.

“Of course they recognise you.” Sunset looked at her. She didn’t look particularly impressed.

Pyrrha took a step forward. “Yes,” she said. “I’m Pyrrha Nikos.”

“We’ll be fine, boss,” the man who had recognised her said. “Seriously, you never heard of this chick? Last Mistral tournament, I bet my kid’s whole college fund on Arslan Altan to win the final, but she kicked her ass in, like, thirty seconds flat. I thought my wife was gonna kill me when she found out.”

“I’m sorry!” Pyrrha said automatically before she noticed Sunset giving her a look that suggested she had nothing to be sorry about. Except she had, really. It might not have been intentional, but a young man or woman’s dreams had been crushed because of her – and she wasn’t talking about Arslan either.

“Ah, so that’s why you slept on my couch for two months?” the foreman asked. He shook his head. “Still, I guess if he says you’re okay, you’re okay. You really think you can keep my boys alive in that wood?”

“I guarantee it,” Sunset said.

“You’d better,” he said. He half turned away from her and gestured at the train cars. “The engine’s up front. It’s all automatic, so no crew, but you can link up your scroll to get control over the defences. Front car is for you, the two after that are for my guys to sleep in, the last two are for our gear; don’t touch our stuff and don’t bother us when we’re working. Name’s Red, this is my crew.” He paused. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset repeated. “That’s Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc, and Pyrrha Nikos is the celebrity.”

Red nodded casually. “Nice to meet you. Get on board; we’re heading out as soon as these lazy asses finish loading up the train. Move it, people!”

“Do you need any help with the loading?” Pyrrha asked. She wouldn’t use her semblance to make the job as easy as she could have done – her desire to retain her trump card outweighed her desire to be helpful, as selfish as it might be – but she was willing to do what she could with the strength that aura granted her.

“No,” Sunset said firmly. “They don’t.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha began, “if we can be of assistance-”

“We are here to protect you,” Sunset declared. “We are here to keep you alive if the grimm show up. We are not here on a work placement scheme; we are not here to make your jobs easier; we are not here to do extra labour for you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Hey, you don’t tell me how to do my job, I won’t tell you how to do yours,” Red said. “You get paid to fight; these guys get paid to work. So hop to it!” he shouted at them.

“Actually,” Jaune murmured, “we’re not getting paid for this.”

“Why am I not surprised? That’s probably why you got the job,” Red muttered.

“We got the job because we’re good at what we do!” Sunset snapped. She inhaled deeply, her eyes closing. When she opened them again, she seemed – and Pyrrha was quite certain that she only seemed that way – to have calmed down. “Anyway, the yard’s quieter than I expected,” Sunset said.

Red said, “There ain’t no trains moving until we get that rail line repaired, and until there are trains moving, there ain’t no need for the yard to move; all the other guys got sent home on no pay until we mend the railroad, so you see why this job is important, right?”

“Sure,” Sunset said. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered. Hey, gambling man!”

The man who had recognised Pyrrha looked guilty to be singled out. “Yeah?”

“They got odds up for the Vytal Festival yet?” Sunset asked.

“Uh… yeah.”

“What are the odds of Team Sapphire to win?”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I just want to know,” Sunset said softly.

The man who had lost a shirt on Pyrrha’s opponent got out his scroll and began to scroll through a website of some kind. “How do you spell Sapphire?”

“S-A-P-R,” Sunset informed.

“Nine to one,” the man said incredulously. “Wow, those are seriously good odds before the tournament even starts. Must be 'cause you’ve got Nikos.”

“Put a bet on us,” Sunset said with a grin on her face, “because those odds are going to shorten fast once the matches start, I guarantee it.”

They kept watch on the roof of the train in staged shifts, so that the last half of each person's shift would overlap with the first half of another's and so on.

What this meant in practice was that at the moment, Jaune and Ruby were up on the roof of the train while Pyrrha was down below with Sunset. The train car that they were using as their, for want of a better word, living space during the trip north to the sight of the breakage was bare, without so much as an empty crate to sit on. It was also dark, with only a red light to illuminate the interior, although Jaune had brought a lamp of his own which they had set up in one corner, providing a little more light to see by. Outside, it had gotten dark, but Pyrrha could only tell that by looking upwards at the hatch leading onto the roof, because for the rest, their compartment was completely sealed with the door shut.

Beneath their feet, the train rolled onwards, rattling upon the rails as it was borne along.

Sunset had her rifle propped up in the corner, not far from Jaune’s lamp, and her black sword out as she practiced her stances. She flowed like water from one position to the other as Pyrrha watched her.

“Like this?” Sunset said, moving from a high guard to a downward slashing stroke.

“Yes, but remember to twist your foot for balance,” Pyrrha said.

“Right,” Sunset said, and she did it again.

“Better,” Pyrrha said. “Now, take a break.”

“I don’t need one.”

“Yes, you do,” Pyrrha replied. “It doesn’t have to be for very long.”

Sunset huffed impatiently, but she sheathed her sword across her back nonetheless. “I suppose you’ll be doing this with Jaune when he comes down here.”

Pyrrha’s lips twitched. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose I will.”

“Don’t,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha blinked in surprise. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t be so… so happy,” Sunset said. “Do you know how hard it is to watch you two sometimes? You’re so… happy!”

“Do you really think so?”

Sunset frowned. “Don’t you feel happy?”

“Yes, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although… until we talked again last night, I wasn’t sure that… I mean, ever since we came back from Mistral…”

“Nothing had happened?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “I suppose you could put it like that.”

“And what did last night yield up?”

“We’re going out!” Pyrrha cried, bouncing for joy on the balls of her feet.

“Good for you. Out where?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “We haven’t decided yet.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re taking things as they come,” Pyrrha explained defensively. “I think it’s rather exciting.”

“'Exciting' isn’t the word I’d use for it,” Sunset declared. “Although I suppose it is rather adorable. Like putting two kittens in the same room together.”

“As long as we are happy, does that matter?” Pyrrha asked. “Does it… does it really bother you?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “It just… it reminds me a little of what I had. And what I lost.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “Have you ever… have you considered that… perhaps you and Flash could-”

“No,” Sunset said quickly.

“Why not?” Pyrrha asked. “I don’t need to be the most perceptive girl in the world to know that you still care about him.”

“He couldn’t handle me back then, what makes you think he’d be able to handle me now that I’m so much more awesome?” Sunset demanded. “And besides, I’m not going to beg a racist to take me back, and even if I… even if I do… it’s not going to happen. And besides, he’s on a team with Weiss Schnee. How am I supposed to compete with the beautiful, talented, insanely rich heiress to the Schnee Dust Company?”

“I did,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“Oh, so the answer to ‘how do I compete?’ is to be a beautiful, talented, slightly-less insanely rich Mistralian princess who is also an international celebrity,” Sunset said. “Perhaps I should get your mother to adopt me.” She grinned. “We could be sisters.”

Pyrrha chuckled but could not quite keep the sigh out of her voice as she said, “Mother probably would adopt you, if you asked her to.” You are just the kind of daughter she wanted, after all.

“Have you spoken to her yet?”

Pyrrha was much more open about her sighing now. “No,” she said. “And I think you knew that.”

“I don’t follow you around every minute of every day; you could have done it while I wasn’t around.”

“But I didn’t,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You should.”

“She lied, Sunset,” Pyrrha declared. “She lied to Jaune for no other reason than to deny me happiness.”

“That’s not actually why she did it,” Sunset replied. “Your mother is many things, but she is not a sadist.”

“I know that my mother made a good impression on you, but please don’t act as though you know her as well as I do,” Pyrrha whispered. “I am the one who grew up with her.”

Sunset folded her arms across her chest. “Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me that you think your mother is sadistic?”

Pyrrha could not meet Sunset’s gaze. “No,” she admitted after a moment, as she looked away at the side of the train car. “But she has never held my happiness as her greatest concern.”

“Your mother… has a different sense of what will make you happy than you do,” Sunset conceded.

Pyrrha shook her head. “How is it that you can accuse Professor Ozpin of all manner of villainy on the flimsiest of foundations and yet with equal zeal defend my mother from something that is true beyond doubt?”

“Because your mother gives me nice things,” Sunset said bluntly.

Pyrrha froze, genuinely uncertain as to whether or not Sunset was joking. “You… you’re not serious?”

“Of course I’m not serious,” Sunset snapped. “Were you unsure about that?”

“No, of course not,” Pyrrha lied and hoped it was convincing.

“The motives of Professor Ozpin are yet opaque to me,” Sunset declared. “I don’t know what he wants or what he’s up to, and that bothers me. I will allow him to make use of us while it serves our needs and wants and purposes, but that doesn’t mean that it stops concerning me. I know exactly what your mother wants: she wants what’s best for you.”

“What she believes is best for me,” Pyrrha corrected. “As you pointed out, her opinions differ from mine quite a bit on some subjects.”

“I’m not telling you to let her control your life,” Sunset said. “She’s on the other side of the world from us now; she can’t make you break up with Jaune. She hasn’t even cut you off. What harm is there in letting her hear your voice?”

“What would we say to one another if I did?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. “I… I told your mother that you would forgive her, such was the generosity in your heart,” she said, after a moment. “I would rather not be proved a fool.”

“I… may, in time,” Pyrrha allowed. “But… at the moment, we should probably get back to training.”

“Sure,” Sunset agreed, and she raised her sword once more to resume the lesson.

And the train rumbled on.

Author's Note

I recently read a book called Saving Cinderella by Faith Moore; it's a book which, amongst other things, offers an analysis of the structure of each of the Disney Princess movies and the ways that their romances are structured. And this book really helped me work out how to write the Arkos in this story (something I wasn't entirely sure of up until now) because it spelled out a few key things for me:

1) Pyrrha is a Disney Princess, both in the sense that she embodies all of the princess qualities of kindness, compassion, courage and determination, but also in that she has the Disney Princess problem of how to be herself in a world that doesn't understand her.

2) Once that is accepted, and following directly on from it, Jaune actually fits quite well into the mould of such prince charmings as Kristoff (there's a reason Sunset describes him as 'a bit of a fixer-upper'), Flynn, Aladdin or the Beast - rough diamonds who require a princess to draw out their hidden qualities and help them become their best selves.

3) The prince cannot fall in love with the princess until she has become her true self, for it is only when he sees her as she truly is that he can, in so seeing, love her.

All of which is to say that this romance will be a bit of a slow burn; slower, honestly, than I was originally planning but I hope that the results will be superior to what they would have been before from my somewhat muddled ideas on how to do it.

Rewrite Notes: Since the Arkos has already started by now, the conversation on the train turns to be about Pyrrha's relationship with her mother.

What Matters (Rewritten)

What Matters

They had arrived at the site of the break in the railway line, and now, the railwaymen were doing a whole load of stuff that Ruby wouldn't even pretend to understand in order to get it fixed again.

Of course, Ruby didn't actually need to understand any of what was going on here: getting the railway back up and running was their job; all that she needed to do was take care of any grimm that might happen to show up.

At least that was her only job since Sunset had made it clear to Red that Team SAPR was not going to be helping out with any of the manual labour. Sunset's reasons for the young huntsmen standing aloof from the work made sense, but Ruby couldn't help but wonder if she would have been nicer about it if Red hadn't mentioned affirmative action when they first met.

Sunset really knew how to hold onto a grievance.

Ruby glanced at her team leader. Together, they stood on the roof of the railway carriage, from where they could see out on either side of them without having their view obstructed by anything but the trees with their scarlet leaves. Although the forest had been cleared on either side of the railway, it hadn't been cleared very far on either side of the railway, and the trees pressed so thickly together that Ruby couldn't see any great distance into them. That was why Pyrrha had taken Jaune on patrol through the outskirts of the forest, so that if there were any grimm around, they'd see them before they came out of the trees, in which case they'd be really close. Too close for the comfort of the railwaymen, probably.

Ruby thought of Pyrrha alone with Jaune, and she… she felt sad.

She wasn’t jealous. Pyrrha was the kindest, sweetest person she knew, and Ruby had a sneaking suspicion that if she told the taller redhead how she felt about Jaune, then Pyrrha would step aside for her with profuse apologies because she would rather suffer sadness on her own account than make Ruby sad.

Which, of course, was precisely the reason why Ruby wouldn’t say anything to Pyrrha about it, because Pyrrha deserved the chance to be happy. Jaune had chosen her, and no amount of Pyrrha attempting to take a step back would change his mind and make him suddenly see Ruby in a different light.

But all the same, it made her a little… disappointed.

"Hey, Sunset?"

"Hmm?" Sunset murmured as her eyes swept the eaves of the forest to their right.

"How do you…?” Ruby trailed off. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had meant to ask Sunset. How do I get over someone? How was she supposed to ask that when Sunset, well, no offence to Sunset, but it was pretty clear even to Ruby that Sunset wasn’t over Flash yet. How do I stop feeling this way? Is it okay for me to feel this way? Just what was I planning to ask anyway? “Nothing,” she said softly.

"'Nothing,' huh? You hide it very well," Sunset observed.

"Huh?"

"Your feelings," Sunset explained. "You hide them very well: Jaune probably has no idea that it still bothers you; Pyrrha has no idea at all that you ever felt… even I can rarely tell that you're still not over him."

Ruby considered denying it, but what would have been the point? Sunset already knew the truth, and it wasn't as though Jaune or Pyrrha were in a position to overhear her. "Does it make me a terrible person?" she asked quietly.

Sunset snorted. "Do you really think it's possible for you to be a terrible person?"

"It's not right, is it?" Ruby asked. "For me to still… you know."

"It might not be right," Sunset allowed, "but it is normal. She has something that you want, and you resent the fact."

“'Resent the…'? What is it that you think I’m feeling right now?” Ruby demanded, her eyes narrowing.

“Jealousy, of Pyrrha,” Sunset said, looking at Ruby as though the answer to that should have been obvious.

“Jealous?” Ruby repeated. “I’m not jealous? Why would you think I was jealous?”

“Because you said-”

“I was talking about the fact that I still like Jaune!” Ruby cried. “I’m not jealous of Pyrrha; she’s my friend.”

“So?”

“Well, how could I be Pyrrha’s friend if I was jealous of her?”

“I sincerely hope that it's possible to be Pyrrha's friend and to be jealous of her,” Sunset replied.

"Why?" Ruby asked.

Sunset turned away from the forest long enough to look down at Ruby. Her ears were perked up, her tail swishing from side to side as she regarded Ruby with an expression that suggested the answer to that ought to have been obvious.

Ruby's silver eyes widened. "Still?"

Sunset nodded.

"But I thought you got over that months ago!" Ruby exclaimed.

"No, I came to see a different side of Pyrrha months ago," Sunset corrected, "but nevertheless, she continues to be… to put it bluntly, she continues to be all of the things that I envied and detested in equal measure in the first place, and although my detestation had subsided… it was her victory that was spoken of in Mistral, though we were all there; we were all there, but all the credit accrued solely to Pyrrha Nikos, whose triumph heralded the Miracle of Mistral. And it was the same story at the docks! I would need a heart of marble not to be moved to envy by such things." She paused. "I didn't stop feeling all envy; I just exercise such self-control over it that Pyrrha doesn't realise. She is what she is, and what she is is…wonderful. Anything ugly that I can't help but feel about that… she doesn't need to see it, and the world doesn't need to know it's there. I am the mistress of my base emotions, not the other way around." She turned around so that she was facing the other direction, looking into the other side of the wood. "For much the same reason," she added, "I can't really give you advice on how to get over a guy, either."

"Is that because it can't be done?" Ruby asked. "Or because you don't want to?"

Sunset's tail stopped moving. Her ears flattened on top of her head. Her body, back turned to Ruby, became very still. "If any other little twerp asked me that, I'd throw them off something very high," she declared.

Ruby couldn't help but chuckle. "It's a good thing I'm not anybody else, then, isn't it?" she asked. "I trust you, Sunset."

"I'm starting to wish you didn't, if you're going to abuse my affection to ask stupid questions like that," Sunset growled.

"Sorry," Ruby murmured with a wince. "It's just that… I want to know if this is going to go away or if I’m going to become… become…"

"Say it," Sunset demanded. "You've come this far, you might as well complete your sentence."

"Become… like you," Ruby finished.

"Bitter?"

"Sad all the time," Ruby corrected her gently. "It hurts you to see him with Weiss, doesn't it?"

"He's not with Weiss yet, thank goodness," Sunset replied. "They are, as Nora would say, not together-together. Although the fact that I think he'd like to be is bad enough. What's worse is that I can't see any reason why she wouldn't want to be with him, short of the… preferential. After all, he's so… what girl wouldn't want him?"

Ruby frowned. "You love him, don't you?"

"I don't know," Sunset replied wistfully. "Maybe it's just the fact that… for most of my life, I didn't have time for st- for boys or dating, and I never even thought about romance. I had other things on my mind."

"Like what?"

"My studies," Sunset said. "Relationships, friends, these were all things that didn't seem to offer me any benefit. Quite the reverse, in fact; they were only going to take me away from what really mattered: mastering my powers, learning new things, unlocking my potential. Chasing my destiny. My ambitions mattered to me more than anything else, more than any potential relationships I might have had with other people. More than the relationship I actually had with my…my teacher. I just…I wasn't interested."

"Okay," Ruby said, wondering at why she felt the need to be so specific. "But then… how did you end up dating Flash Sentry?"

Sunset still didn't look back at Ruby. "I… I arrived in Canterlot with nothing. I had the clothes on my back, and… and that was pretty much it. I had nothing, I didn't know anybody, I had nowhere to go. And that wouldn't have been a good place to be at the best of times, but the fact that I was a faunus made it so much worse. I…you don't know what that's like, and I don't want to tell you." Sunset paused, and now she looked back at Ruby, just as a look of sadness washed across her face like a wave lapping against the shore. "I really don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that Flash and I ended up in a relationship and leave it at that. I doubt that my example could teach you anything useful."

"So… that's it?" Ruby asked. "Do you think you'll ever get over it?"

"I think that you'll get over it," Sunset replied, turning her attention to the woods once more.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you don't love him," Sunset said confidently. "It's just a crush; it'll pass."

"What makes you think I don't love him?" Ruby demanded.

"Do you love him?" Sunset asked.

"Well… no," Ruby admitted. "But you couldn't have known that."

"I could, and I did."

"How?"

"Because if you loved him, you wouldn't have found it so easy to put it in a box where no one could tell it was even there," Sunset said.

"Oh," Ruby sighed, deflatedly and disconsolately. This hadn't been much – any – help at all. Certainly, it hadn't gone the way that she'd expected. She'd hoped for a couple of hints at least. "I guess that- Sunset!" Crescent Rose snapped into life, extending and unfurling in a series of hydraulic snaps and hisses. "There, in the trees!" Ruby hissed as she raised the scope to her eye. With the additional magnification, the dark shape that she had seen on the edge of the forest resolved itself into a beowolf. For a moment, it seemed to look right at her, red eyes fixed on Ruby.

Her finger touched the cold metal of the trigger, but before she could fire, the grimm had turned away and fled back into the cover of the Forever Fall forest.

"Did you see that?" Ruby asked.

Sunset had her Sol Invictus to her shoulder, though she lowered it now that the beowolf had fled. "Yeah, I saw it. And if he hasn't gone back to get the rest of his pack, I'll chew on the sleeve of my jacket. Hey, Red!"

"Yeah?" the foreman drawled as she looked up at her.

"Get everyone back on the train and lock the doors!" Sunset yelled.

A single solitary howl rose up into the sky from out of the forest. It did not remain alone for long; soon, it was joined by another voice, then another, then another, and then there were ten or twelve or twenty beowolves or maybe more howling up into the sky from somewhere just out of sight.

"Now!" Sunset snapped. The railwaymen didn't need to be told twice; they dropped their equipment and supplies on the ground and left them there as they scrambled for the train, hauling themselves up into the two train cars and slamming the doors closed after them.

Sunset pulled out her scroll, and her fingers flew across the touchscreen as she activated the train's defences. A pair of gun turrets, one mounted on the engine and the other on the rear car whirred to life, turrets rising and gun barrels extending.

Sunset continued to tap on her scroll. "Let's hope we can get a signal out here," she muttered to herself. "Yes!"

Pyrrha's voice emerged from the scroll. "Sunset? Is that you?"

"We need you back here; we're about to be hit," Sunset said bluntly.

"We're on our way," Pyrrha said before disconnecting the call with equal directness.

Sunset put her scroll away and raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder once again. She swept the barrel from right to left across the forest. "We can't let them get inside the carriages, and we can't let this drag on, or the fear of all those guys in there will attract even more grimm," she said. "We'll shoot down as many as we can; if any of them get too close, I'll get down and block the way; you keep me covered from up here."

Ruby frowned. Sunset seemed to think that just because she preferred to fight in constant motion, using her superior speed to devastating effect, that meant that she couldn't fight standing still, which wasn't true.

It was mostly not true, anyway.

But there was no point arguing about it now, not with the grimm about to-

The howling and the snarling rose to a frenetic new pitch as the beowolves boiled out of the eaves of the forest like bees whose nest had just been poked with a stick. There were two dozen of them, maybe more, all swarming out of the forest, growling and snarling.

Ruby fired first, the sharp crack of Crescent Rose splitting the air. Sunset was only a second behind her, and then the automatic turrets were firing too, making heavy thudding sounds as fire burst from the barrels of the guns.

And the air was thick with shooting.

Jaune and Pyrrha ran towards the sounds of the shooting, their pace increasing as they heard Crescent Rose and Sol Invictus start splitting the air with the sounds of their reports, mingling the sound of gunfire with the howling of the beowolves.

It would probably be fine – they were only beowolves after all, and Ruby and Sunset were pretty amazing – but nevertheless, Jaune didn't slack off, and Pyrrha didn't show any signs of doing so either. How would they feel if it wasn't okay and they hadn't been there to help out because they hadn't run as fast as they could, come as quick as they got, done everything that they could to get there in time?

Still, though he ran through the forest, with Pyrrha loping swiftly ahead of him, Jaune wasn't too worried. This was Ruby and Sunset; they were both heroes, real heroes, unlike… there was no way that they were going to get taken out by a pack of beowolves.

But then, as they cleared the forest and saw the train in front of them, Jaune heard Ruby cry out in pain before the train was rocked by something hitting it on the other side.

"Ruby," Pyrrha gasped, and she somehow managed to find the energy to run even faster before she leapt up onto the roof of the train car.

She'd fired off two shots with her Miló before Jaune, who hadn't gotten the hang of jumping like that even with aura, was able to climb up onto the roof using the metal ladder running up the side.

He saw that there was only one beowolf left.

Unfortunately, it was the biggest beowolf he'd ever seen, or – more to the point, since he hadn't seen that many beowolves, in all honesty – it was bigger than any that he'd read about even when he started bothering to read his textbooks.

He knew that grimm got bigger as they aged, but what the hell? This- this was so big, he was amazed it had been able to move through the forest at all, let alone hide there. He guessed it must spend a lot of time on all fours, but even then, it had only just failed to clear the tops of the trees, and it had crushed more than a few of them getting out after the rest of its pack. It had only one eye, with a vicious scar down the left side of its bone mask where the other should have been, but that hardly mattered, because it was about as broad-shouldered as two train carriages and as big as a hill, and it had so many bone spurs jutting out from every conceivable part of its body that it was practically armoured in them. Jaune could barely see any black fur at all because so much of the beowolf was protected by protruding bone.

The alpha beowolf rose onto its hind legs – it was much taller than the trees when it did that – and roared defiantly.

Ruby had been flung back by the beowolf into the train. Her aura was still up, but she groaned a little bit as she picked herself up.

"It has too much bone," she complained. "I can't get a clean hit on it; it's too well protected."

"It does have considerable armour," Pyrrha agreed as one of her shots ricocheted harmlessly off a bone spur.

Sunset stood in front of the train, her jacket burning as though she was on fire. She swept her hands over her sleeves, and fireballs of burning dust flew from her arms to strike at the beowolf, but they had about as much effect as Pyrrha's bullet or Ruby's implied strike with Crescent Rose. None of them were doing anything because the beowolf was so well-armoured, it was unbelievable.

Jaune had dreamed of moments like this. Not real dreams, but kind of daydreams: the day when Ruby and Sunset and even Pyrrha would be helpless in front of a monster that they couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down, when everyone would cry out for a saviour, and he, Jaune Arc, would step forward and say 'Everything will be alright, because I am here!' and he would slash with his shining sword and strike down the monster and save the day.

But that was a daydream, and this was reality, and the reality was that there was no way he was going to stand a chance against a grimm like this where his three infinitely more talented teammates couldn't do anything about it. They were the real heroes, the ones that mattered.

All he could do was help them along the way as best he could.

And surprisingly – surprising even to himself – Jaune was okay with that. So long as he could help them, like with the boost that his semblance could provide, so long as he could contribute something and not just be a useless idiot in the back, then he could live with it. Because this wasn't a dream; this was real life with real lives at stake, and he didn't have the luxury of sulking because he couldn't be the shining hero up front. Pyrrha, Ruby, they were real heroes, they were the ones who would save the world if anybody could, and so long as he could help them do it, then that was fine by him.

Not that that helped in the immediate situation against this enormous beowolf.

Sunset held onto her gun with one hand, but with the other, she reached into the pocket of her jeans. "Ruby," she said, "if you had a clear shot without so much bone in the way, could you cut this thing in half?"

"I think so," Ruby said. She looked at him. "With a bit of a boost, definitely."

"Pyrrha," Sunset said, "when I give the word, get ready to pin this thing into the ground, okay?"

Pyrrha glanced towards the pile of rails that the railway crew had brought with them to fix the line. "Understood."

"Great," Sunset said. She pulled her hand out of her pocket, holding a couple of crimson fire dust crystals in her hand. "Hey, over here, you big dumbass!" She stepped to the side and threw the dust crystals at the beowolf. Jaune guessed that she must have been using her magic on them, because they flew perfectly up towards the beowolf's face, almost to its one remaining eye.

And then a bolt of green energy shot from the tip of Sunset's finger and struck one of the dust crystals. They exploded in an orange fireball that consumed half of the beowolf's face in flame. The beowolf roared in pain, its bone mask burned as it thrashed in agony, but it still had its eye. And that one eye, red and shining with malice, was now squarely fixed on Sunset Shimmer.

"Yeah, that's right," Sunset said. "That's it, come and get me."

With a thud that made the earth shake, the alpha beowolf, half its face ablaze, dropped to all fours and roared in Sunset's face.

"Now, Pyrrha!" Sunset snapped.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, and Jaune immediately put his hand to her shoulder and activated his semblance, boosting Pyrrha's aura and thus her own semblance as she held out both hands towards the pile of rails. Five rails rose into the air before Pyrrha gestured with her hands towards the beowolf, and those same rails flew across the air and drove themselves through the only parts of the giant beowolf that weren't completely protected by bone: the four paws and its tail. Pyrrha drove the rails like nails through the beowolf's feet and into the ground beneath it before she bent the rails – hopefully the railway crew had spars – so that the beowolf was trapped, impaled into the ground, unable to do more than roar and growl and bite the empty air as it struggled against its newfound bonds.

And as it struggled, Sunset stretched out her own hands and a few of the bone spurs protecting the beowolf's back became surrounded by a green aura as Sunset began to pull them apart.

Sunset struggled to rip apart the spurs of bone and make somewhere for Ruby to hit it. The beowolf struggled to pull itself free of its restraints. The huntress struggled, and the monster struggled, and it became a question of whose struggle would pay off first. Sunset growled with effort as she matched her- her magic – it was still really weird thinking of it like that – against the strength of the ancient grimm's outgrowths, and the beowolf growled too as it matched its strength against Vale-made steel.

The bones cracked, and Sunset was able to pull them apart to reveal a patch of plain and unprotected black fur near the centre of the beowolf's back.

"Ruby!" Sunset yelled.

"Jaune!" Ruby called.

Jaune leapt down just as Ruby leapt up. He took her by the legs and amplified her aura and her semblance as he threw her up and forwards like some kind of adorable human football.

Ruby flew into the air, trailing rose petals behind her, and then she descended, spinning, like lightning from the heavens, and sliced the great and ancient beowolf clean in half.

And thus, the day was saved once more, and if it hadn't been saved by Jaune, then did that really matter?

The day was saved; that was what really mattered.

They were the ones that really mattered.

Why We Fight (Rewritten)

Why We Fight

Cold Harbour was not a pretty place, and certainly, it was nowhere that Sunset would have come for a visit.

It was a working town, one which existed purely and entirely to serve the needs of the port and the rail line. It had nothing else. They didn’t even build the ships here; they were all Atlesian-made. If the rail line had remained down, if the ships ever stopped sailing from Atlas, if the dust ever did run out, then Cold Harbour would wither and die like a flower in the cold.

And then there was the fact that, while Sunset had no doubt that somebody was making a lot of money out of Cold Harbour and its business, that somebody didn’t live in the city or anywhere near. Most probably, the someone who was making the most money out of this place was Jacques Schnee, and he lived far away from here. The work was done here, but the profits flew away, over the oceans and the land, to fill the pockets of men in Atlas or the city of Vale. Only the scraps of that prosperity remained in the port, where faunus scrabbled for work as labourers and dreamed of one day getting to drive a truck or operate a power-loader because they couldn’t imagine it getting any better than that.

All of which meant that when team SAPR arrived in Cold Harbour on their train, the railway line having been repaired and the first trains already prepped to flow back the other way, they found it a rather grim, dour, and forbidding place. The buildings were dull and functional, in the appropriately-named Brutalist style of architecture of which Sunset was decidedly not a fan, and the atmosphere felt as cold as the chill wind. There was nothing fun about this town, unless one counted the bars they passed where no doubt the labourers were encouraged to spend their meagre lien on bad drink and pleasures more sordid still. It was a place of crushing banality, full of people living to work because they had nothing else to live for, the sort of place where the ideology of the White Fang would flourish amongst the poor and exploited faunus.

She couldn’t wait to get out of this place. Out of the cold air blowing down from the north, out of these ghastly buildings, out from where the humans looked at her with unveiled contempt and the faunus looked at her like she was a traitor for associating with her team.

“How much further until we rendezvous with Blake and Team Rosepetal?” Pyrrha asked.

“Soon, I think, I don’t know!” Sunset snapped. She cringed at the hurt expression on Pyrrha’s face. “I’m sorry, I…I don’t like it here. Too… Atlesian by far.”

“We understand,” Pyrrha said calmly. “You don’t have to apologise.”

“Thanks,” Sunset muttered. She wondered if, perhaps, she wasn’t giving Atlas enough credit. After all, Canterlot had never been this bad… well, that depended on how one defined or described ‘bad.’ It had been an uncomfortable experience for her, but the architecture hadn’t been too terrible, although some of the people had been bad enough.

Or had they? Sunset remembered it that way, but then she also remembered herself as a victim, and a rather passive victim devoid of agency at that, which was… probably not the truth.

But then, what was the truth? If things hadn’t happened the way she remembered them, then how had they happened?

Perhaps I tried to turn the most popular girls in school against one another and got caught doing it, which meant that everyone hated me after that.

Yeah… I kind of prefer the original version over the rewrite.

After all, if everything that happened to me at Canterlot was all my own fault, then that might mean that Flash…

No. No, that’s just ridiculous. Absolute nonsense. He was explicit about the reasons why he was breaking up with me, and he had no reason to lie.

He broke my heart because he couldn’t live with my tail any more.

Didn’t he?

Of course he did. And I was the victim. Except when I wasn’t.

At least, I hope I was.

She had been… not the nicest person back then, but at the same time, why would Flash lie to her about something like that? Why would he pretend to be a racist?

A racist who I never saw have a problem with Rainbow Dash.

Who doesn’t seem to have a problem with Blake.

I know what he said, but Cardin Winchester, he isn’t.

But then why would he say that?

Sunset was roused from these unanswerable musings by the sound of a startled cry and a heavy thud behind her. She whirled around, reaching for her gun – the rest of her team did likewise and grasped at their own weapons – but it turned out to be Blake Belladonna, between a dozen and twenty feet behind them, crouched down in the middle of the road astride the unconscious form of a ram faunus, horns curling out from either side of his head, swathed in a long, dark trenchcoat.

It was a measure of what a dive Cold Harbour was that nobody seemed to find the fact that Blake had plainly just jumped on this guy and knocked him unconscious to be anything worth making a fuss about. All around them on the street, people continued on their way without offering the scene a second look.

“Blake!” Ruby exclaimed. “When did you-?”

“I’ve been following you since you got off the train,” Blake said, as blandly as she might have made an observation about the cold weather – which she must have been feeling, dressed as she was. She got up off the guy she’d just knocked down. “I noticed that he’d been following you as well.”

“Thanks,” Sunset said. “Nice of you to drop in.”

Blake looked at her.

Sunset grinned briefly.

Blake rolled her eyes as she began to walk towards them. “Follow me,” she said. “I’ll take you to join the others.”

Blake led them into a back alley and through various other small, narrow, dark, and mostly uninhabited streets that even the denizens of Cold Harbour seemed to want to avoid. Considering that some of them were covered in garbage, Sunset could well see why, and the smell… – Sunset’s sense of smell was more acute than most, but Pyrrha seemed to be struggling with it too – some of these alleyways stank to high heaven. What a place, she couldn’t wait to be out of here.

“I’m sorry about the route,” Blake said, and as she glanced back at them over her shoulder, Sunset could see from her expression that she wasn’t the biggest fan of the stench either; probably her sense of smell was as good as Sunset’s, what with her being slightly catty and all. “But ever since Team Rosepetal arrived here, we’ve had people trying to find out what they’re doing here, where they’re going next; we’ve been followed, and I noticed that the base was being watched.”

“The White Fang,” Sunset said.

“They don’t wear masks, but almost certainly,” Blake said.

“Have you ambushed and beaten up all of them?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Blake said, with just a thin trace of amusement in her voice. “Mostly, we try to avoid them. After our Search and Destroy mission was complete, we left the base, flying southward on a Skyray which Rainbow Dash left a few miles out of town for recovery, then we snuck back in and found somewhere more inconspicuous to lay low until you arrived. Usually, Rosepetal stay in their room, and I get sent out when somebody has to leave. I still stand out,” – she briefly grasped the handle of Gambol Shroud – “but not as much as… some of the Atlesians. Or you four, for that matter.”

Pyrrha looked a little guilty, as though she had anything to be guilty about. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s not your fault,” Blake said. “You’re a huntress, not a spy, but that’s the point: you and Rosepetal both stand out as obviously being huntsmen, and that makes the White Fang ask why you’re here.”

“Are we going to be able to get onto the train without being spotted?” Sunset asked. If they didn’t have secrecy, then the entire plan was shot full of holes before it had even begun; either the White Fang would leave the train alone, or they would attack in strength sufficient to overwhelm the combined forces of the two teams. Neither option was particularly desirable.

“I think so,” Blake said. “We have a plan and the route already chosen. We’re almost there.”

“So,” Sunset asked, “what’s it been like working with Atlas?”

Blake hesitated for a moment. “They’re… not what I expected,” she said. “I didn’t expect that they would be so… human.”

Sunset pressed her lips together and restrained herself from offering a witty response to that. She came to the end of an alleyway and pressed her back against the wall as she gestured out of the end of the narrow lane. Before them was the rear of a rather cheap-looking motel, with three rows of windows obscured by old-fashioned lace curtains looking out at the insalubrious view of an empty car park and some big blue bins on wheels overflowing with garbage bags. Discarded bottles and cigarette butts littered the concrete, and there was graffiti on the walls of the alleyway in which they waited.

“This is where you’re staying?” Sunset asked sarcastically. “Nice.”

Blake glanced at her momentarily. “We’ve rented six rooms, the three climbing up the west wall and the three next to that so that nobody can take those rooms and see us coming or going, but everyone actually sleeps in the room on the northwest corner, as it’s the hardest to observe.” She looked back at the members of Team Sapphire. “Does anybody think they might not be able to climb up the drainpipe? Or get up to the top window?”

Jaune raised his hand at once. So too, after a moment's hesitation and slightly more tremulously, did Sunset.

Blake nodded. “Don’t worry, I can help you.” She turned back and looked at the motel windows. “Now, we wait for- there.”

The northwest window opened, and the face of Rainbow Dash briefly appeared there, beckoning to them. Sunset noticed that the window next to it was also open, and she thought… was there someone in there?

“The window to the right-”

“That’s Ciel,” Blake murmured.

“So long as it’s someone on our side,” Sunset muttered.

“Let’s go,” Blake said, and she led the way as they dashed quickly across the open ground between their alleyway and the back of the motel. Blake gestured for them to go first, up to the open window on the northwest corner of the top floor.

Pyrrha was the first up, not bothering with the drainpipe that ran up the side of the wall as she simply leapt straight up to the window and grabbed the ledge with both hands before hauling herself inside.

Ruby went next, scampering up the drainpipe with simian agility before sliding sideways onto the windowsill, where a hand reached out to help her get inside the room.

Sunset went next, and although she had conceded that she might need some assistance getting there, she was determined to at least try and do it herself. She gripped the rusting metal drainpipe with both hands, feeling the cold of the metal and the slight rough unevenness of the surface beneath her palms, and she gritted her teeth as she started to climb. Her aura made her stronger and gave her greater endurance besides, but it didn’t make you good at all the things that you wouldn’t necessarily have been great at otherwise, and Sunset felt no shame in conceding that Pyrrha and Ruby were both more athletic than she was, if only because they’d been training in those skills for longer. But she wasn’t about to let Blake just help her up without at least attempting it herself, and so, though her boots sometimes slipped against the surface of the wall and her hands felt as though they were going to slip on the pipe, nevertheless, inch by slow inch, Sunset hauled her body up the drainpipe and reached out to place her fingers on the windowsill.

Rainbow’s hand grabbed hers, and immediately, Sunset felt the weight on her arms ease off as Rainbow helped her the last bit of the way and pulled her into the motel room. The carpet was faded, there were black stains in the corners of the walls, and there was a dent in the wall like somebody had punched it once.

“Yo,” Rainbow greeted. “Glad you could make it.”

“You say that as though we’re late or something.”

“I’m just bored of having to wait for you.”

“Don’t blame me because you’re impatient,” Sunset countered.

“Hello, Sunset!” Penny said cheerily.

“Hi,” Sunset replied. “Hi, Twilight.”

“Uh, hey, Sunset,” Twilight said, before looking down at her scroll.

“Hey, guys,” Sun said. “Have a good trip?”

“Hey, Sun,” Ruby replied. “What are you doing here?”

Rainbow folded her arms across her chest. “Somebody helped him sneak into our Skyray and hide out there. We didn’t notice him until it was too late to turn back.”

Sunset smirked. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for romance.”

There was a click outside the window, and looking out, Sunset could see the hook of Blake’s weapon bury itself in the wall before Blake lifted herself and Jaune up to the level of the window, where Sunset and Rainbow helped Jaune in before Blake slipped into the room afterwards, shut the window after herself, and closed the curtains.

“Cosy,” Sunset observed as the nine people now present in a room designed for two tried to find some room to stand.

“I know, but it isn’t for long,” Rainbow said. “Once it gets dark, we’ll sneak out of here and slip aboard the train with nobody any the wiser.”

“All loading at the rail yard stops at night,” Blake explained. “Even the night trains are loaded up during the day; there are only a couple of night watchmen around, and we should be able to avoid them.”

“You’ve thought this through,” Sunset remarked.

“We’ve had time to think while we waited for you,” Rainbow said.

“How was your mission?” Penny asked brightly.

“It was mostly pretty quiet,” Ruby replied, “but then this pack of beowolves showed up, and they were led by one of the biggest alphas that we’d ever seen, and…”

They passed the time as best they could in that crowded space – it got even more crowded once Ciel joined them from the room next door, bringing her rifle with her – as they waited for it to get dark outside. Rainbow and Ciel both did weapons maintenance – or tried to as best they could in the conditions – and Sunset cleaned out the chambers of the cylinder in Sol Invictus so that they wouldn’t get fouled in battle; it was, she had to say, much easier for her to do that than it was for the two Atlesians to do their maintenance in the circumstances.

Penny read from a book of stories, not the Fairy Tales of Remnant prescribed for Doctor Oobleck’s class, but a much older-looking book with a cover so worn that Sunset couldn’t read the title. “My new friend Blake gave it to me. It has so many other stories that weren’t included in the book for class. I’ve never read anything like some of these stories before.”

“That’s why I gave it to you,” Blake said. “These stories may be simple, but as Doctor Oobleck said, they represent where we come from; our ancestors told those stories, and by knowing the stories… we can know them, what kind of people they were, what kind of world they lived in. Plus… they’re often very good stories. Simple, but compelling, and sometimes, even beautiful.”

“It looks like an old book,” Sunset said, observing the slightly dog-eared cover, the many creases on the spine, the way the corners of some of the pages looked as though they’d been folded over to mark the place – Sunset, who always used proper book marks, couldn’t help but feel a slightly sense of disapproval at the practice – all marked the book out as having been long-owned and often-read.

“My… my mother used to read it to me,” Blake said, and a look of deep sadness crossed her face for a moment. “A long time ago.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose a little. “A generous gift,” she murmured. She couldn’t imagine giving a book from Celestia away, to Penny or anybody else.

“Not really,” Blake said, in a voice that carried an undertone of melancholy. “I… I know most of those stories by heart by now.”

“Penny,” Pyrrha said in the tone of someone who is very deliberately changing the subject. “How far have you gotten? Do you have any favourites yet?”

“I’m not sure if I’ve found a story that I like better than The Shallow Sea,” Penny murmured.

The corners of Pyrrha’s lips rose upwards in a smile. “Yes, that’s one of my favourites too.”

“Not many humans know that story,” Blake said, surprised.

“There are many faunus who fight in the tournaments,” Pyrrha replied. “I think it was… yes, it was Metella who told us that story, when we were waiting in the green room for a photo shoot. I was only a girl at the time; I’d just started fighting. She was rather dismissive, but I always found it a rather lovely story.”

“Being seen for who you really are?” Penny asked.

Pyrrha’s smile broadened. “Exactly, Penny. Isn’t that what we all want? Isn’t that what we’re looking for in the end?”

Blake frowned. “Penny, what was the other story you said that you enjoyed? You talked about it last night.”

“Oh, you mean The Little Angel?” Penny asked. “Yes, I think that’s a lovely story, too.”

“The Little Angel,” Ruby repeated. “I don’t remember that one. Yang used to read me stories from books just like that all the time, but… no, I don’t remember it.”

“It’s about an angel, the daughter of a god, who lives in the sky,” Penny explained. “Each night, she watches the people on land and wishes that she could join them, especially after she sees the human prince, and she-”

“She falls in love with him,” Pyrrha said. “And so determined is she for them to be together that she sheds her wings and becomes human so that she can be with the man she loves and finally explore the world that she’s watched from afar for so long. I think it’s a lovely story.”

“I used to like it,” Blake said. “But now… it isn’t one of my favourites.”

“Why not?” Pyrrha said. “What changed?”

“Not the story,” Blake said, “but I realised… the prince, if he really loved her, then he wouldn’t ask her to change who she was so completely for his sake. If he loved her truly, then he’d take her as she was and not ask her to change a thing.”

“But he didn’t ask her to change,” Pyrrha said. “He didn’t know her; she made the decision to transform herself all on her own.”

“Is that better?” Blake asked, without malice or anger of any kind in her voice. “Can we really say that she loved him? Or was it just a shadow that she loved, the idea of something that was never really there at all?”

“I… I don’t know,” Pyrrha said. “But I do know that there’s nothing wrong with the idea of transformation. Sometimes, when we descend from the heavens and into a whole new world, we transform for the better. We become… what we were always meant to be, better than what we are now. Like The Shallow Sea, so many stories are about that, that moment of transformation, of becoming.”

“Transforming and becoming are not the same thing,” Blake replied. “One is revelation of what was always there but was hidden behind rags or an ugly exterior or whatever it is; the other is being remade by some external power deciding that what you are, as you are now, is just not good enough.”

“Are you sure you’re not both reading too much into this?” Ruby asked. “I love a lot of these stories myself, but they’re just stories.”

“Stories matter,” Sunset said from where she leaned against the wall. “Just as every story began with a life lived somewhere, so each of our lives contains a story within it. We have to remember that and bear it in mind if the story is not to become a tedious and repetitive thing filled with inconsequential happenings and transient experiences amounting to nothing. Sound and fury signifying nothing.”

“Live like you’re the hero of your own story?” Ciel remarked. “From literary analysis to egotism.”

“I’ve read that in Mistral of old, there were few among the mighty there who didn’t consider themselves to be the hero of their own history,” Sunset said.

“An attitude that did much to bring Mistral to disaster in the Great War,” Pyrrha remarked.

“Maybe,” Sunset conceded. “But before that, it first made Mistral great. How can we seek to be heroes if we do not understand what a hero is, what made them heroes, and what made them acclaimed as such by those around them? That’s why stories matter, because without them, how will we know what to do?”

“That’s why what they mean matters too,” Blake added wistfully, “or we might… do the wrong thing and not realise it until it’s too late.”

That night, once the darkness had descended upon Cold Harbour and the activity of the streets had slowed as people retreated either to their homes or to their favourite bar, it was time to leave the cramped hotel room behind and get to their train before it left without them.

Blake confirmed that there was no one watching the back of the hotel as they slipped out the window and down to the ground below – Rainbow Dash carried Twilight down in her arms like a bride, the rest of them jumped and trusted to their aura to dull the impact, and Jaune tripped and almost fell as he leapt – as quickly and as quietly as they could with all their gear and weapons with them, not to mention supplies for the journey, sleeping bags and all the rest. Blake led the way, taking the two teams and Sun through more dingy back alleys of the same kind that they had used to get to the hotel in the first place. Now, they headed back towards the railyard, avoiding the main streets that SAPR had first taken before Blake showed up and instead taking the more indirect route which brought them step by step and back alley by alleyway back to the yards, which now were dimly lit and quiet. When SAPR had dismounted the train they’d arrived on, accompanied by Red’s working crew, the yard had been abuzz with activity; the word that the railway had been repaired had travelled ahead of them, and so, a half dozen trains were being loaded at the time to make the trip to Vale during the evening and night, crates bearing the snowflake emblem of the SDC by the multitude being lifted into railway cars. Faunus by the score and the hundredfold had worked by hand and primitive machine while power loaders painted in yellow and black strode amongst the trains carrying especially large and heavy containers, and all the while, the overseers and the foremen called out directions to the workers. Judging by what Blake had said, the chances were that the White Fang already knew what was in every single train and had known since preparations to move the trains as soon as the rail line was reopened had been made.

The Atlesian military train had, according to the plans that Sunset and Rainbow had made, been loaded up and standing by for some time now. The White Fang could have robbed it in the yard by now if they’d wanted to, but of course, it was much easier to do it in the wilds of the Forever Fall than in the middle of a city where there might be a law enforcement response and with an Atlesian military base so close.

In any case, they could see it in the yard ahead of them as they crept across the empty railway lines and in between the stationary and unattended containers. Rainbow took the lead at this point with Twilight; Blake dropped back, presumably because the Atlesians knew what they were looking for. As they approached, the engine began to hum and thrum with suppressed energy.

“Quickly,” Rainbow hissed. “It’s about to leave.”

They quickened their pace, though those of them that had super speed stopped short of actually using it. They ran, covering the ground more quickly as Twilight Sparkle got out her scroll. Sunset could hear a faint beeping sound, and the doors to one of the cargo cars slid open with a hydraulic hiss.

Rainbow and Twilight reached it first, and Rainbow leaped aboard the car; she turned and helped Twilight up inside a moment before the train began to move. The rest of the group ran faster still, with Rainbow and Twilight already aboard and waving them on, and rushed for the open door as it began to crawl away down the rail line.

They just about made it, leaping or scrambling aboard or being helped aboard moments before the train began to accelerate to the point where it would have been impossible to get on – nor, indeed, was it possible to get off now. They were on this train until it stopped again, which it was not scheduled to do until it reached Vale but it might do depending on how the White Fang decided to stop it.

They were trapped aboard the train absent destination or external influences, which is why, as the eight huntresses and the two huntsmen crouched in the darkness of the train car and the door shut behind them, it was a little disconcerting to see a pair of red eyes light up in the darkness as a metallic and synthesised voice said, “Intruder, identify yourself.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, urgently but not so urgently that she might seem frightened.

Twilight, on the other hand, squeaked with alarm. “R-right. I’ll just…um, give me a second.” In the darkness, Sunset could hear Twilight tapping on her scroll.

The lights came on, revealing row after row of Atlesian security droids standing in ranks like a column of old-fashioned soldiers ready for an assault, all of them staring right at the huntsmen who had the temerity to board their train.

But then, the red eyes faded. “Understood. Atlesian forces recognised. Your facial patterns have been uploaded into our database and logged as friendly.” The droids, apparently deactivated again, lowered their faces and said no more and did no more and troubled them no more.

“These guys are a lot creepier than the ones you had on the base,” Sun observed.

“Yes,” Twilight agreed. “That’s kind of the point of the 200. One of the biggest points, anyway.”

Rainbow Dash walked up to them, looking them up and down. “Old 130s; I thought we were replacing all of them.”

“Upgrading our entire capability takes time,” Ciel reminded her. “The first available knights are being deployed to front line positions, 130 models will remain in service in some rear-echelon areas for a considerable length of time.”

“'Upgrading'?” Pyrrha said, her voice soft as she rose to her feet. “Is that what you call it?”

Rainbow turned back to her. “We’re replacing the old models with the newer ones; what would you call it?”

“Terrible,” Pyrrha said. Her brow furrowed. “The idea that this is the future of warfare… it horrifies me.”

“Pyrrha?” Jaune asked.

“You don’t like robots?” Rainbow said.

“I don’t much care for them, no,” Pyrrha replied.

“Is there any particular reason for that?” Ciel asked.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Do you know why the faunus were victorious in their rebellion after the Great War?”

“Because of the faunus generalship of…” Ruby trailed off. “Um, Blake, what was his name again? I’m sorry, I know we did our essays on it, but that was months ago now and-”

“And it’s only Modern History, I get it,” Blake said easily. “It was Ares Claudandus, and his preparation and generalship led to a decisive victory as much as the mistakes of General Lagune.”

Pyrrha smiled thinly. “That’s why they won the battle at Fort Castle, but in my opinion, it isn’t why they won the war.”

“You’re talking about the mutiny at Camp Fury, aren’t you?” asked Sunset, who thought that she had worked out where this was going. “When the faunus rose up, the veteran troops refused to march against their old comrades, the ones they’d fought alongside in the Great War. And because of that, Mistral and Mantle were forced to fight the war with green recruits, boys dragged out of the fields and off the streets.”

Pyrrha nodded. “And because of that, the faunus won the war.”

“I think we would have done alright against the most experienced troops that humans could find,” Blake muttered. “Although I suppose the inexperience of your troops didn’t hurt.”

“The point is that those soldiers did what they thought was right, not what they were ordered to do,” Pyrrha said. “They had that freedom, just as we do now. If Professor Ozpin ordered us to burn down a city block with all the people trapped in their homes, would we do it?”

“No,” Jaune said. “Of course not, that would be murder.”

“Exactly, and we know that,” Pyrrha said. “But these automatons.” She gestured with her shield hand at the Atlesian androids. “This is an army that will never tell its commander ‘no,’ no matter how monstrous the order. An army without conscience.”

“Its conscience is that of the man who wields it,” Ciel declared. “General Ironwood has conscience enough for an entire army. He is a good man, perhaps the best; he would never wield his power to wicked purposes.”

“Can you guarantee the same about the man who will succeed him, or their successor after that?” Pyrrha asked.

Neither Ciel nor Rainbow Dash said anything in reply. What could they have said, in any case? Penny looked sad and a little upset for some reason.

Rainbow put one hand on the door leading into the next carriage. “We should go,” she said firmly.

“Fine by me,” Sunset replied. “Does anyone want to sleep in here with the robots?”

“Not me,” Sun muttered. “I don’t know about what Pyrrha’s been saying, but they give me the creeps.”

“Then let’s go,” Rainbow said. “Twilight, do you want to give us the layout?”

“Right,” Twilight said, pulling up a map on her scroll and displaying it as a three-dimensional hologram. “We’re here, in carriage six of a ten-car train. Car number one is directly behind the engine; car ten is the caboose. Cars six, and ten are filled with droids; that’s the standard security complement for this kind of train. Cars one, two and three contain the paladin mechs; cars four and five contain small arms and ammunition. Car seven contains munitions for the heavy weapons mounted onto the paladins, while cars eight and nine contain dust for military purposes. There should be enough space in car five for us to sleep in.”

“Thanks, Twi,” Rainbow said. “Let’s go.”

“So, icebreaker question,” Rainbow said. “What are we all doing here?”

The ten huntsmen sat amongst the crates of guns and ammo in the middle of the Atlesian train as it rattled along down the recently repaired railroad towards Vale.

Sunset sat on the floor, with the portable stove that they had used to heat up their dinner still burning in front of her. Sunset turned off the stove with one hand while, with the other, she held onto her bowl of noodles. “What do you mean, what are we doing here? We’re here to ambush the White Fang when they try and rob the train.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously. I mean, why did we all want to become huntsmen in the first place? If we’re going to go into battle together-“

“We’ve already gone into battle together,” Sunset pointed out. “Twice.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t plan it that way either time,” Rainbow reminded them. “I just… I want to know who you all are.” She looked at Sunset. “Better than I thought I did, maybe. I’ll even start us off if you like.”

“We already know why you’re here,” Sunset presumed. “For the Glory of Atlas.”

Rainbow folded her arms. “You say that like it’s such a terrible thing.”

“Well I, for one, find thoughtless chest-thumping a little gauche,” Sunset declared.

“'Gauche' is the least that I could say about you,” Ciel muttered. “We stand for the flag; there is no shame in that, nor will we be intimidated into feeling shame by being told that our patriotism is somehow indecorous.”

“Don’t you find it a bit exhausting to have to talk up your kingdom all the time?” Sunset asked. “To feel obliged to defend it constantly?”

“I find the arguments deployed against Atlas to be rather wearisome in their weakness,” Ciel replied in a dismissive monotone.

“Anyway,” Rainbow said, “it isn’t all about the glory of Atlas. In fact, it isn’t even mostly about the glory of Atlas. Yes, Ciel’s right, we stand for the flag, and we fight for our kingdom, but it’s more than a flag, it’s more than just an idea; people can trash talk Atlas all they want, and I’m not even going to say that it’s a perfect place to live, but… but it’s home. It’s home to all my friends and to people like them. Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and hundreds of thousands of people just like them, they’re all kept safe by the strength of Atlas. So you can go ahead and make your fun of us and how we do things, you can look down on us like we’re idiots who need to wake up and realise that the General is an evil dictator or something, but while you’re all doing that, my friends sleep safe. While I’m here, they don’t have to be afraid. Even though the world is full of grimm, even though it sometimes feels like we’re only one step ahead of the monster taking us out, even though, in spite of everything… they don’t have to be afraid. Because they’re my friends, and they can sleep safely tonight because I’m out here, watching over them, keeping the monsters at bay. That’s why I do what I do. For them.”

“A worthy motivation,” Pyrrha murmured. “For my part, if I have ever given you cause to feel slighted, I apologise.”

“Don’t worry, Pyrrha; you’re not the one I had in mind,” Rainbow replied.

“I’ve already said sorry,” Blake muttered. “Wasn’t that enough?”

“It was,” Rainbow agreed. “From you.”

Sunset shuffled uncomfortably in place. “I know that you care about your friends,” she said. “Everyone knows that you care about your friends. But couldn’t you care about them with a little less of the oorah stuff?”

“Nope,” Rainbow said. “Sorry, but I’m going to keep on being proud so long as we’ve got stuff to be proud of.” She paused for a moment. “So, come on, who else wants to share with the group? Sunset, what are you doing out here? Why did you want to become a huntress?”

Sunset shrugged. “For the fame. For the glory.”

Rainbow snorted. “'Glory'? What glory?”

“The great glory that will accrue to us as a result our deeds in the field and in the tournament arena,” Sunset declared grandiloquently. The glory that is our due. “And the immortality that we will win there.”

“There is neither immortality nor glory for soldiers,” Ciel said. “History remembers the generals who commanded the battle, it remembers the politicians who ordered the battle, but it does not remember the soldiers who fought in the battle.”

Sunset smirked, undismayed by Ciel’s words. “Is that so? Good thing that we’re not soldiers, isn’t it?”

“Do you really think that you will accrue such great glory as to deserve the name immortality?” Ciel asked. “From being a huntress?”

“I believe it so,” Sunset assured her. “I cannot believe that it is otherwise. This… this is my destiny; I cannot doubt it. I have come too far to be halted by mere doubt. I will do great things, and in the doing, I shall become more, much more, than I am now.”

“What if you don’t?” Ruby asked, her voice high and soft but clear in the cramped, enclosed space in which they found themselves.

Sunset drew breath in through her nostrils. “What if I don’t? What if we don’t? That outcome is not possible. I will not suffer it.”

Ruby frowned; her face could sometimes seem childlike, but now, she seemed older, and Sunset was reminded that there was only a two-year difference in their ages, that this was a girl who, for all that she might sometimes act immaturely, had endured and suffered much. “Rainbow Dash,” she said quietly. “My mom was a huntress. My uncle is a huntress. My dad teaches at Signal CombatSchool on the island of Patch. I… I guess you could say that I was always going to be a huntress, because of whom my mom was, who my family is, because of all the stories about huntresses and huntsmen that my sister Yang used to read me when it was time for bed.”

“You say 'was,'” Twilight said softly. “Your mother was, not your mother is. Then… does that mean…”

“She’s… she’s gone,” Ruby confirmed with the melancholy of a scar over an old wound. “She died on a mission when I was little.”

“Would we have heard of her?” Ciel asked, earning her a bit of a frown from Pyrrha.

“Does that matter?” Jaune demanded.

“No,” Ciel admitted. “Forgive me. I was wrong to impose simply to satisfy my curiosity,” – she glanced at Sunset – “for all that it might be said to bear upon the previous line of discussion.”

“Even so,” Pyrrha murmured, “that hardly seems reason to-”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said.

“Ruby,” Jaune murmured. “You don’t have to talk about this if-”

“It’s okay, Jaune,” Ruby said. “But… no, you probably wouldn’t have heard of her. My mom’s name was Summer Rose. She was a great huntress, and she was…” She glanced at Sunset, and the words ‘silver eyed warrior,’ though they lay unspoken in the presence of Atlas, hung heavily between the members of Team SAPR. “She was a great huntress,” Ruby repeated. “She led her team, and she fought the grimm right up until the day she died. She was a great huntress, but nobody ever built a statue of her or wrote a book about her. Nobody remembers her, nobody even knows her name apart from her family. She was a great huntress, but she didn’t get any glory from it.”

“Then wh-?” Sunset cut herself off before she could say it.

Ruby looked at her. “What?”

Sunset looked away, paying particular attention to the rust on the walls of the train car. “Nothing.”

“Sunset-”

“I said, it’s nothing,” Sunset said, more sharply this time. She didn’t want to seem unkind, but… well, if she said what was on her mind right now in front of Jaune and Pyrrha and the Atlesians, then she was afraid that she would seem very unkind. Let Ruby think what she liked, let the fact that her mother had died in ignominious obscurity, tell her something about the lot in life of the average huntress, but they were not average. Sunset would not endure to be average. She would win. She would rise. She would claim all things that she desired and deserved.

And she would not ask in the presence of all this company whether or not Ruby really believed that her mother’s blood, sweat, tears, and very life itself had been worth it for… for what? For a little plot of earth to lie in and the memories of a handful of people? Whether she was ready to launch herself on that same course for that same reward.

But she couldn’t say it in front of all these people; it would seem too harsh. She would not seem unkind, even if she was.

And besides, she didn’t want to be unkind, not to Ruby. She didn’t deserve it, especially not over something like this.

She didn’t want to hurt Ruby with her words, even if she would defend to herself the sentiment that underpinned those words.

She exhaled. “Somebody say something else. Please.”

“My family has a long history of military service, predating even the foundation of Atlas itself,” Ciel said, picking up on the cue without complaint. “Soleils have fought for Mantle, and they have fought for Atlas. And now I fight for Atlas, as I will send my daughter to fight for Atlas one day in her turn.”

“As simple as that?” Sunset asked.

“As simple as that,” Ciel said.

If you live to have a daughter.

Sun grinned. “And the award for shortest answer of the night goes to Ciel!” He looked a little disappointed at the lack of response.

“You may not have to send your daughter to fight for Atlas,” Pyrrha said, softly but solemnly too.

“Why would I not?” Ciel asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I am here… I believe… I’ve always believed that my destiny is to protect the world,” Pyrrha said, sounding halting as if she was afraid that at any moment people would try to mock her for what she said. “I came to Beacon because I wanted to do more than just win tournaments, because I wanted to protect humanity from its enemies and put my skills to better use than entertainment. I’m here because I want to save lives and because I believe, I truly believe with all of my heart, that we can do more than just hold the line against the grimm, more than just take back a little territory beyond the boundaries of the kingdoms or found a few new villages. I believe that we can retake our world from the monsters who plague it.”

Silence greeted her pronouncement. Rainbow let out a puff of breath. “That would be awesome. That would be the greatest thing… no more grimm, no more fighting, no more risk. You’re talking about a world where kids like Scootaloo and Apple Bloom can just be kids without having to decide if they want to learn how to kill monsters, where Pinkie and Rarity and Fluttershy wouldn’t have to worry about what happens when the levee breaks, where…you’re talking about everything. And I’d love to believe that you can do it, I’d love to believe that we can do it, but… Pyrrha Nikos, I’ve seen you fight, and you are good. But I don’t believe that even you are that good. Do you really think you’re that good?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha said, “but I know that we have to try, all of us, together. If we don’t try, if all that we do is bequeath the battle to our children so that they can leave it to their children, I…” She reached out, and placed a gloved hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I mean no disrespect to your mother, Ruby… but I believe that we have to aim higher than that.”

“To make a world where there’s no need for people like us?” Rainbow asked, as her ears twitched and a smile played across her face.

“That is my ambition,” Pyrrha said. “I cannot promise I’ll achieve it… but it’s what I aim for.”

“And maybe we will,” Ruby said, looking up from where she sat on the floor into Pyrrha’s face. “Maybe we’ll do what no one else could. If we stick together and keep getting stronger and never give up, then-“

“Then what?” Blake said. “Say that you did it. Say that you exterminated the creatures of grimm… somehow. Let’s say for a moment that that actually happened. There would still be a need for huntsmen and huntresses. Even if all of the grimm disappeared tomorrow, the world would still be full of cruelty and injustice and corruption, and I’m not just talking about the White Fang but also all the things that created the White Fang in the first place. That’s why I’m here, to fight against all of that, and that won’t change just because the grimm are gone.”

“Did you just explain why you became a huntress or why you joined the White Fang?” Rainbow asked.

Blake was sitting a little removed from the rest, her knees up and her arms wrapped around them. “I know why I’m here,” she said, “and I’ll fight against the White Fang or the grimm when I have to. If that’s not good enough for you, then I’m sorry.”

Sunset, who fancied that she knew more about why Blake was here than some but still wouldn’t claim to be able to answer for her, locked eyes with her for a moment. Sunset’s green orbs met Blake’s golden eyes before Blake looked away.

“It’s alright,” Rainbow said. “I trust you. How about you, Sun?”

“Like I told you before,” Sun replied. “It seemed-”

“'Like a good idea at the time,'” Blake quietly interrupted.

Sun chuckled. “Yeah, you could put it like that. I like to travel. I don’t… or at least I didn’t… staying in one place too long never appealed to me, you know. Having a regular job, a house, all that kind of thing. It’s just not who I am. I’m more of a ‘roam from place to place’ kind of guy, never settling down and always moseying on. And I figured that being a huntsman was a good way to do that, taking jobs in lots of different places, helping lots of different folks. Because I don’t want to be a burden, you know? I wanted to help out, and… well… that seemed a good way to do it.”

“That’s nice, Sun,” Ruby said. “I think that’s pretty much what Yang wants too. Although, to be honest, it makes me worry about her sometimes, whether she’ll be okay on her own, wandering from place to place with one to help her.”

“From what I’ve seen, Yang’s plenty tough,” Sun said. “Tougher than I am, that’s for sure.”

“A Vacuan admitting to weakness?” Sunset asked.

“Hey, we’re not all like Team Indigo,” Sun insisted. “The point is, don’t worry about your sister, Ruby; she’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “I just don’t always remember.” Her brow furrowed. “Hey, Sun… you said ‘didn’t.’”

“Huh?”

“You said you didn’t want to stay in one place, not don’t,” Ruby pointed out.

“Oh,” Sun said. “Well… it’s just that lately… I guess that I might have, you know, found a different reason to fight.”

“Aww,” Ruby cooed. “That’s so sweet!”

“It is rather lovely,” Pyrrha agreed.

“Don’t you think so too, Blake?” Ruby asked.

Blake almost smiled. “I’m aware of my good fortune,” she said as she reached out to take Sun’s hand in hers.

“Okay, get a room you two,” Rainbow said. “Right, who’s left… what about you, Jaune?”

“I…” Jaune looked away from Rainbow Dash; for a moment, he glanced at Pyrrha sitting beside him, but then he looked away from her as well. He got up off the crate of rifle rounds that he was sitting on. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said and began to walk away down the car towards the head of the train.

“Jaune, wait!” Pyrrha called as she got up herself and began to follow him. Jaune didn’t stop, but Pyrrha followed him nonetheless into the darker recesses of the badly lit cargo car.

Sunset was content to follow him with her eyes alone until he passed out of sight, but she could see why Pyrrha had followed because his behaviour was inexplicable to her. She’d always thought that Jaune’s motivations were simple enough and similar to her own in many ways. He wanted to be the hero, and if he didn’t have skill to commend him for the heroic role, then, well, Sunset Shimmer had many faults, but she wasn’t one to fault anyone for having big dreams. His ambition was probably the thing that she respected most about Jaune Arc: he knew what he wanted, and he was willing to put his life on the line for it; whatever else you could say about him, that fact entitled him to a little respect.

But then why be so reluctant to say it in front of everyone? It wasn’t as if it was especially ridiculous, no more so than what Sunset had said or even Pyrrha. It wasn’t as if the Atlesians were going to laugh at him. So why?

Hopefully, it’s nothing. Hopefully, he’s just out of sorts tonight for whatever reason. Pyrrha will get it out of him, and hopefully, it will blow over after that.

“What’s with him?” Rainbow asked.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Sunset said. “He’ll be fine when the time comes. We all will.”

“Sure,” Rainbow said, sounding unconcerned by it all.

“What about you, Twilight?” Ruby asked. “Why are you here?”

“I, uh,” Twilight murmured, looking at Rainbow Dash. “I… I’m not really a huntress. I’m just here to help Penny, you see…wait, where is Penny?”

It was only when Twilight drew attention to the absence of the fourth member of Team RSPT that Sunset noticed that she wasn’t there. There were only seven people here now, with Pyrrha and Jaune having gone elsewhere. Penny was nowhere to be seen.

Ruby got to her feet. “Maybe she’s still in the other compartment. I’ll check there.”

“Ciel, go-” Rainbow began, but Ruby had already sped off in a burst of falling rose petals. “Okay, Ciel, follow her and keep an eye on Penny.”

“Affirmative,” Ciel said as she leapt up and began to follow in the direction Ruby had raced off in.

Perhaps Jaune isn’t the only one who’s out of sorts tonight.

Ruby raced across the coupling joining the two compartments – the one they’d been squatting in and the one with all the robots where they’d first boarded the train – and into car six with its cargo of rank upon rank of Atlesian battle droids. The door to the car was open, and for a moment, Ruby feared that Penny had fallen off the train or something, but after a moment, she could see her standing in the doorway, framed by the moonlight coming in through the open door which cast her white smock in a shade of blue. The silver light danced upon her fair skin.

Penny was staring up at the source of the moonlight, at the broken moon that hung in the sky above.

“Do you ever wonder how it got that way?” Ruby asked as she walked across the carriage to join Penny at the open doorway. The moonlit landscape – in the moonlight, the leaves of the forest seemed to glow like burning embers, as though it was a forest of flame that they were passing through and not a forest of leaves – rushed by as the train devoured the miles. “When I was a kid, I used to wonder what happened and why all those pieces didn’t fall down and hit us. I still don’t know what’s holding them up.”

Penny looked at her. “I’m sorry, Ruby, but I’m afraid I don’t know either.”

Ruby smiled. “That’s okay, Penny. I didn’t expect you would, I just… I came to find you because no one knew where you were. I was a little bit worried about you.”

“That… that’s very kind of you,” Penny said. She looked back up at the moon. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Ruby asked. “Are you really? Why didn’t you come in and eat with the rest of us?”

Penny said, “I thought it might be better not to. I… I don’t think Pyrrha likes me very much.”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby asked. “Pyrrha likes you. She likes you a lot. What would make you think she doesn’t?”

Penny turned around and gestured to the massed ranks of the Atlesian androids. What moonlight reached inside the carriage to touch them glimmered upon their metallic carapaces. “Pyrrha… doesn’t like robots.”

“I guess not,” Ruby said, failing to see the relevance. “But-”

“Ruby, can I tell you a secret?” Penny asked, her voice suddenly sounding urgent. “This is a big secret, but I’ve been given permission to tell Team Sapphire, and I want you to know first of all. Can I trust you, Ruby?”

Ruby looked into Penny’s eyes. “Of course you can, Penny. You can trust me with anything and everything. Whatever secret you might have to tell, it’s safe with me, I promise.”

Penny clasped her hands together above her heart, and for a moment, she cringed as if the mere act of considering telling Ruby her secret – whatever that secret might be – made her afraid. “I… I’m not a real girl,” she said. “I… I am a robot, the world’s first ever robot with aura. I was created in a lab in Atlas by my father and Twilight and their team; Mis- General Ironwood sponsored my creation because he believes in me. General Ironwood says that I can save the world one day, but… what that means is that… I’ve been lying to you. I’m not a person, Ruby; I’m not that different from those robots behind me-”

“You’re nothing like them,” Ruby said in a voice that was simultaneously both firm and gentle.

Penny’s eyes widened. “Ruby… but-”

“You’re nothing like them,” Ruby repeated as she reached out and wrapped her hands around those of Penny. Penny’s skin felt natural; if Ruby hadn’t just been told that it was artificial, she would never have realised on her own. It was soft, a little cold, but it felt like skin and not plastic or anything like that. “You just said that you have aura, right? The first robot to ever have aura. But do you know what that means? You know what it means to have aura: it means you’re alive. You have a soul, because that’s what aura is: it’s a manifestation of your soul. You’re not just a machine, even if you do have processors and a power core or whatever. You have a soul. You’re a person, just like me. Just like all of us.”

Penny’s eyes grew wider still. “You… you mean it?”

“I do,” Ruby said solemnly.

“But… Pyrrha said-”

“Penny,” Ruby interrupted. “If General Ironwood ordered you to kill me, would you do it?”

“O-of course not!” Penny exclaimed. “You’re… you are my… my friend. I could never hurt you, Ruby.”

“I know,” Ruby said softly. “I trust you, Penny. If you ever doubt that you’re different from the other robots again, just remember that: you can make your own choices; you don’t have to do just what you’re told.”

Penny smiled sadly, her bright green eyes filled with melancholy. “Ruby… thank you. To hear you say that means more to me then I know how to say. But that’s not entirely true.”

She turned away and looked out the open door again, pulling her hands gently out of Ruby’s grasp.

“What? Why not?”

“I… I couldn’t help but overhear you talking in the other car,” Penny said. “You were all explaining why you became huntsmen and huntresses. You all have something that you want, something that drives you. All of you… except me.

“I was created in a lab by Atlesian scientists to be a weapon for the Kingdom of Atlas. I was created to fight. I didn’t choose to become a huntress… I was designed that way.”

“Penny,” Ruby murmured. “Is this not what you want?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Penny said. “I was created by Atlas to serve Atlas.”

“Of course it matters!” Ruby exclaimed. “What you want matters; it matters more than anything else in the world. It doesn’t matter what General Ironwood wants or what your father wants, or your team or even the Council of Atlas. Penny, if… if you don’t want to fight, then… then I promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to help you be free of all of them. If that’s what you want.”

Penny stared at her. Her mouth gaped open. She was completely silent, robbed of speech. She stared at Ruby for so long, it was honestly starting to get uncomfortable.

“You… you would do that for me?” Penny said.

“I would,” Ruby said without a trace of hesitation to diminish the resolution of her tone.

“But… Ruby, do you realise what you’re saying?” Penny asked. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“But… why?” Penny asked. “Why would you do that… for me?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Ruby said, “and because…you’re my friend.”

“Ruby…” Penny enveloped her in a hug that would have been bone-crushing if she hadn’t had her aura up at just the right time. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much. Ruby; why do you fight? Is it only because of your mother and your father and your uncle?”

Ruby shook her head before she realised that Penny couldn’t see that right now with the way they were hugging. “No, Penny, it isn’t. It’s because… it’s because I can. There are things that I can to protect other people, things that they can’t do to protect themselves. And so… because I can do those things, I think… I think that I ought to do those things, because if I didn’t, then other people might get hurt.”

“Then that will be my reason for fighting too,” Penny said. “Until… until I can work out what I want to do.”

“Then when you do,” Ruby murmured. “I’ll be waiting.”

Ciel Soleil lurked in the shadows by the car door, silent, watching. She watched everything, heard everything, and as she watched and heard, a smile spread slowly across her features.

She was a soldier of Atlas, but not a mindless one; she wasn’t a drone like all those AK-190s in there. If Penny could find a reason for fighting beyond the fact that it was what she was made to do, if she could find a cause to drive her on, to light a fire in the pit of her soul and keep her going in the darkest of moments, then so much the better. If Ruby Rose could help her find that cause, then good for her.

And if Penny couldn’t find that cause, if she in the end decided that she had no desire to fight, then…

Then Ciel Soleil would not stand in her way. She was a soldier, not a slave-owner.

Penny Polendina was growing up before her eyes. And it was wonderful to see.

“Jaune, wait!” Pyrrha called.

Jaune finally stopped. There were no windows in these cargo cars, and the ventilation was terrible, so there was a door open ajar near the front of their car to let some fresh air in for them. Jaune stood in front of that partially open doorway, letting the moonlight fall down around him. It fell on Pyrrha too as she approached him. It made her fair skin look ethereal, as though she were a statue made of marble or alabaster.

She gazed at him with concern in her eyes, eyes that seemed brighter now than he’d ever seen before, the green of her eyes popping out more than they had seemed to do in the past.

God, she’s beautiful.

“Jaune,” she repeated. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, and he meant it. Nothing was wrong; he just… he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit the truth in front of the Atlesians or Sunset. Or even Ruby, to tell the truth. “I just… I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because there are things that I feel like I can only say in front of you,” Jaune confessed. He was a little surprised at how true this was, how true it had become. Pyrrha… he could talk to her. He could unburden himself to her. He could pour out his heart and soul to her in a way that he couldn’t do to anyone else because he felt in some way that wasn’t true of anyone else that she would listen to him. She wouldn’t judge, she wouldn’t criticise, she wouldn’t rail at him for the mistakes he’d made; she’d just listen and counsel him and forgive him everything that he did, even when it hurt her. “Pyrrha… do you remember that night on the rooftop when I told you what… what I’d done? I told you then why I wanted to come to Beacon.”

“Because you wanted to be a hero, like your ancestors,” Pyrrha said.

She remembered. Of course she remembered. Jaune got the impression that she remembered everything that he’d ever told her. Every single word. “I meant it then,” he said. “I meant that I wanted to be the hero, not the idiot stuck in the tree while his friends fought for their lives-”

“You’re not,” Pyrrha said. “You’ve come so far, so quickly, Jaune. I’ve never seen anyone push themselves as hard as you.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t bring this up so you could put my mind at ease,” Jaune said quickly. “I might not be the idiot stuck in the tree any more, but… I’m not the hero, Pyrrha. And I never will be. I get that now. I just… I couldn’t say it in front of everybody else. Only you.”

Pyrrha took a step closer to him. “I don’t understand.”

“I used to think that I could be the hero,” Jaune said. “Save the day, save everybody, kill the monsters, beat back the darkness.” He hesitated, taking in the way she looked in the moonlight. “And then I met a real hero.”

Pyrrha’s face flushed bright red. “Jaune, I-”

“I believe in you,” Jaune said. “I believe that you can do all the things that you said you wanted to do back there, if you only try. I believe that if anyone can defeat the grimm and save the world, it’s you, Pyrrha. I’ve never met anyone so brave and so committed as you. And I want to be there to see it when you do, and I want to help you any way I can. But I’ve got no illusions anymore. I’m not the hero, Pyrrha, not of my life and not of this story. You are, or Ruby is, or perhaps even Sunset. But not me. I don’t have… it’s not me. I’m just the backup, but that’s okay. Even if I couldn’t tell the rest of them that, it’s still okay, because I can tell you. If all that I can do is help you reach your destiny, then… then that’s fine by me.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha whispered, and it was ridiculous, but he thought for a moment that he heard longing in the way that she said it. “Don’t.”

He blinked. “Don’t… what?”

“Why should you be the only one who has to give up on your dreams? It isn’t fair,” Pyrrha declared. “Why should Sunset and I have the right to chase our destinies when you have to give up on yours so that you can support us? I know that you have a semblance that makes it seem like that’s what you need to do, and I know that you don’t have the training that I have, but I don’t think that you… I don’t want you to give up on your dreams. The fact that you don’t, the fact that you can hold on to what you want, I… I admire that about you. The fact that you believe in yourself… it makes it a little easier for me to believe in myself too. Please don’t let that go. Keep reaching for your dreams, and I… I promise that I will help you to reach them.”

“Pyrrha, I…” Jaune could only stare at her. She looked so beautiful. The way the moonlight shone on her skin. She always looked gorgeous, but somehow, in this moment, she looked even lovelier, even moreso than he had thought possible.

He kissed her, because how could he be expected to resist, with her looking as beautiful as she did, as fair and lovely? He took her in his arms and felt her melt into his embrace as their lips met. Their kisses were fumbling, inexperienced still, but Jaune didn’t care; he was pretty sure that Pyrrha didn’t care either, given the way that he seemed to leave her breathless even though he had no more idea what he was doing with kissing than he did with romance in general. And even after the kiss was done, Pyrrha kept her arms wrapped around him, leaning against him, his arms around her in turn.

“Thank you,” he said, “for caring whether I give up or not.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Jaune repeated. “Pyrrha, what do you have to be sorry about?”

“I’ve been…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Conservative, in my training of you. I’ve been able to justify it to myself, able to tell myself that I was teaching you as I was taught: the same techniques, the same footwork, the same style of fighting. But you’re not me, and my style isn’t a perfect fit for you.” She took a deep breath; Jaune could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own. “For all your improvement, you don’t have my agility, my speed; you need to learn to fight differently from me, and I could see that, and there are techniques that I could have suggested to you, but I didn’t. Because the truth is… the truth is that I was afraid that if I pointed you in the direction of flashier, more powerful techniques, then you’d neglect the basics.” She took a step back. Jaune’s arms fell away from her; he had no desire to hold her in place against her will. “And perhaps… perhaps I just didn’t want to lose you to another teacher; I enjoyed the time we spent together too much. But I should have had more faith in you, and I should have put your desire to improve above what I wanted. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Pyrrha, you don’t need to say that,” Jaune said.

“But I’m the reason that-”

“That I’ve come as far as I have,” Jaune cut her off. “All of that is down to you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be disturbing Weiss up on her rooftop every night, exhausting myself and getting nowhere. And the truth is… you might have been right, at first. I would have jumped at a shortcut and not bothered with all of the basics that I needed to get down first. And I’m not sure that I would have been ready for another teacher, at first. I’m not sure if anyone else would have put up with me, but I know that no one else would have been as patient with me as you, as understanding as you, have explained everything to me as well as you. You’re the best teacher I could have asked for, the best partner I could have asked for. I got really lucky, when I ran into you, first day at Beacon.”

“Oh, Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured, looking away from him as her cheeks flushed red. “That… that’s very kind of you. But the truth is…” She grasped her sash in both hands, playing with it. “The truth is that I think that you’re ready for the next step.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I have two ideas,” Pyrrha explained, still not looking at him. “The first is that I’m going to ask Dove to be your sparring partner one night each week; I think that… do I guess right that you sometimes find it hard to see how much you’re improving against me?”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Well, I don’t seem to be getting any closer to beating you.”

“Dove is a little closer to you in skill, so I’m hoping that your improvement will be more obvious.”

“That sounds fair enough,” Jaune replied, “but why should Dove help me out like that?”

“I’m not sure of that yet,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’ll see if I can find a way to persuade him. My other idea is to use your aura more to attack.”

“You mean like Rainbow Dash?”

“Something like that,” Pyrrha murmured. “I have to admit,” – she looked around, as if she was worried the Atlesian team leader might be listening – “that I find Rainbow’s technique rather wasteful; she expends a lot of aura for the effect she achieves and squanders a lot of it in the sound effect; my old rival from the arena, Arslan, uses a similar technique but much more efficiently. In any case, I was thinking less of expelling your aura through your hands and more through your sword. I never learned how to do that, and I’m not sure at the moment who the best person to teach you would be, but I’ll find someone.”

“We’ll find someone,” Jaune corrected her. “After all, I should probably put in a little work for my own tuition, right?”

Pyrrha turned back at him, smiling. “All right then, we’ll find someone. Just don’t give up, Jaune; promise me you won’t give up. In time, you’ll be as strong as any of us.”

“I promise,” Jaune vowed. “I won’t give up.” He wasn’t sure that she was right, wasn’t sure that he could ever become that strong, but he would try.

For her, he would try.

For her, he would keep his promise.

For her, he would do anything.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Mostly cosmetic changes to this chapter, with the biggest change being to the Jaune and Pyrrha scene (since Arkos has happened already) and Rainbow doesn't need to introduce her friends since they've already appeared in the story.

Why We Fight, Part Two (Rewritten)

Why We Fight, Part Two

Ciel was on watch. Rainbow in turn watched her for a moment, standing in the open doorway of the railway car, looking out as the landscape flew past. If anything happened, Ciel would spot it and wake the others who were all sleeping in the small arms car that they had claimed for their living space.

If anything happened, Ciel would spot it.

Rainbow turned away and headed into the next car along, where she and Twi wouldn’t be disturbing anybody else.

Twilight was already waiting for her in the other carriage, sitting demurely on her knees in front of all the battle droids with her scroll out and held in front of her. A smile played across her features as she waited, and her face brightened as Rainbow Dash came in. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said as she sat down besides Twilight, their shoulders touching their bodies leaning against one another.

Twilight’s folder was not, as Rainbow’s was, labelled ‘Spectacular Six.’ Twilight had gone with the more prosaic ‘Friends.’

She clicked on it.

Five boxes appeared on the screen, all black, all waiting for responses. Rainbow’s scroll began to buzz, but she ignored it.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Twilight asked. “It might be something important.”

“Very funny,” Rainbow said.

One of the black boxes was replaced by the image of Pinkie Pie, her face pressed so close to her scroll that she was obscuring everything behind her. “DASHIE! Twilight!”

“Hi, Pinkie,” Twilight said.

Rainbow grinned. “Hey, Pinkie, how’s it going?”

“Things are going pretty great around here,” Pinkie answered. “I mean, not as great as they’d be if you two were here, obviously, but apart from that, they’re going pretty great. I just got back from throwing Sweetie Belle’s birthday party-”

“Wait, that was today?” Rainbow asked. “Was I supposed to send a present or something?”

“Don’t worry, darling. I had no expectations on that front,” Rarity said as she joined the call. “Now, if it had been Scootaloo’s birthday, then I think we all would have had some rather harsh words for you.”

“I would have had some harsh words for me too,” Rainbow agreed.

“It’s fine, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity assured her. “No one expects to get a present from a friend of their older sister. Twilight, how are you, dear?”

“I’m fine, Rarity, thank you for asking.”

“I’m delighted to hear it, darling. I only ask because I know that being out in the field isn’t your natural habitat.”

“Hey, it’s not like she’s having to survive by herself,” Rainbow said indignantly. “I take care of her.”

“I know you do, Rainbow, but even so,” Rarity said. “Twilight, are you sure you’re alright?”

Twilight smiled fondly. “I’m very sure, thank you, Rarity,” she said. “Rainbow takes very good care of me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, and I’m sure you know your own state best, so I won’t ask again,” Rarity said. “I’m terribly sorry, Pinkie dear, I seem to have interrupted you.”

“It’s okay,” Pinkie said amiably. “It was a pretty great party for Sweetie Belle though, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, you outdid yourself, Pinkie; the girls had an absolutely marvellous time.”

Fluttershy was the next to join the call. “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“Not really, we were just missing you,” Rainbow said. “How are you doing, Fluttershy?”

“Is Applejack coming?” Pinkie asked.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said. “She just had to-”

“Howdy, folks; sorry, but I’d left my scroll back at camp when I went to fetch some water,” Applejack said as her video-feed cut in to join the rest of them. She pushed her hat upwards on her head. “Well, how’s everyone doin’ tonight?”

“We got our tickets to the Vytal Festival!” Pinkie chirruped eagerly. “Rarity paid for mine and for the hotel and everything!”

“Really?” Twilight asked. “That’s very generous of you, Rarity.”

“Yes, well, in this case, it’s my parents’ generosity that you should be praising,” Rarity said, sounding slightly uncomfortable at the praise she was receiving. “Once they understood that we wanted to see our friend closer than on a television screen, they were happy enough to pay for an extra ticket. It makes sense to make all the arrangements now before the good hotels in Vale get booked up and to make them together like we have with Scootaloo and the Apples so that we’re all staying together and don’t have to go out of our way to find each other. Fluttershy, Applejack, do you think you’ll be able to make it to the festival for a reunion, or will your ramble through the countryside keep you away?”

Fluttershy and Applejack glanced at each other, or at least, that was what it seemed like they were doing; it was hard to say for sure on the screen of a scroll.

“We’ll be back,” Fluttershy declared. “It doesn’t matter if we have to cut my trip a little short. I’ll make it back in time for us to cheer you on.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Rainbow declared. “If you’re seeing, like, some super rare butterflies or-”

“Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy said gently. “Do you mean to say this isn’t important to you?”

Rainbow had always found it incredibly hard to lie to Fluttershy, although not for the same reasons that it was hard to lie to Applejack. It was hard to lie to Applejack because she could tell as often as not when you were making something up, but it was hard to lie to Fluttershy for the simple reason that you felt like a jackass afterwards.

And so you told the truth.

And the truth was… this was important to her. Even if she wouldn’t be able to go all the way to the one-on-one rounds like she wanted to – that honour being reserved for Penny – the fact remained that this was a huge deal for her, a chance for her to strut her stuff on the biggest stage in all of Remnant, a chance for her to stand in front of the world and say ‘I’m Rainbow Dash, and this is how awesome I am!’ A chance for her to show Scootaloo that you could be whatever you wanted to be, so long as you were willing to work hard for it.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “This matters to me.”

“Then I’ll be there, in the front row,” Fluttershy promised. “We both will.”

Rainbow smiled. “Thanks, Fluttershy. Thanks, girls. That… it really means a lot.”

“How are things going out there, Fluttershy?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful so far,” Fluttershy exclaimed. “Without human habitation to worry about, animals have been able to thrive all over Vale. So far, we’ve seen otters and beavers and badgers and hedgehogs, and we even got chased by wild boar once after we strayed into their territory.”

“You’re sure that wasn’t a boarbatusk, right?” Rainbow asked anxiously.

“I know the difference between a boar and a boarbatusk,” Applejack declared proudly. “It definitely wasn’t black, and it definitely didn’t have any bone on the outside. Besides, if it had been a grimm, I would have just shot it, or else sicced Winona on it, but on account of it being a boar-”

“I didn’t think that we should hurt it,” Fluttershy said. “After all, we were the ones who trespassed into its territory.” She smiled. “But thanks to Applejack, I’ve had a great time, and I’ll have learned so much by the time we come back to Vale for the festival. Rarity, how are things going with you?”

“Oh, absolutely fabulous, darling, so kind of you to ask,” Rarity said. “I’ve just discovered a new kind of fabric that is just delightful to work with, and…”

Rainbow lost track of how long they’d been talking, of how long Rarity discoursed on her new fabrics, how long Pinkie talked about her new cupcake recipes, how they checked up on the pets she was looking after for them, how they just talked about everything and nothing at all, about one another and their sisters and their families and their lives. Lives that had nothing to do with the grimm or war or the White Fang because Rainbow and Applejack kept them safe from all that – Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy, at least; they’d been unable to prevent Twilight being dragged into it.

They talked, and there were times when it felt as though they were all sitting around the table in Sugarcube Corner, eating ice-cream sundaes like they had last year, back in Atlas.

She really hoped that they could all meet up in person for the Vytal Festival; she hoped that Pinkie could envelop them all in a great big hug, that they could sit down and talk in person, that it could be a little more like the old days than even this was.

She hoped it could be so.

They talked and talked, and it was only when Twilight started to yawn that Rainbow realised that they’d probably been at this for quite some time.

“I think we should probably call it a night,” she said sheepishly.

“No,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry, I-”

Applejack chuckled. “Don’t worry, sugarcube; wherever we are, we all need to be fresh come morning. Looks like this is goodbye for now.”

“Ooh, ooh, one more thing before we all say goodbye,” Pinkie said. She beamed brightly as she began to sing, “Oh oh oh, oh oh oh.”

Rainbow shook her head. “No, no, we are not singing.”

“Aww, come on, Rainbow!”

“I’m sorry, Pinkie, but if Sunset Shimmer hears me singing that song, she’ll never-” Rainbow hesitated, because what was more important really, her friend or Sunset? “You know what? Screw Sunset, let’s go for it. Come on, Pinkie, lead us in.”

“Oh oh oh,” Pinkie began.

“Oh oh oh,” Rainbow added.

“You are my Canterlot Girls,” they both sang together as, one by one, the others joined in.

“You turn the light switch on,

It brightens up my day like the sun,

When my friends come a runnin’,

You were right all along,

That together we’re always better,

We could turn a sketch into a masterpiece,

When you are here I feel like I’m complete,

You are my Canterlot Girls!”

They giggled as they signed off one by one, each bidding the others goodnight until they met again.

Until they met again.

If they ever met again, if the battles against the White Fang or the grimm did not claim her life, if Applejack and Fluttershy managed to make it back to Vale okay, if, if, so many damn ifs.

“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked as she hung up.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to make it, aren’t we?” Twilight said. “Us, Applejack, Fluttershy. We’re all going to make it and see our friends again.”

Rainbow looked at her. “Yeah. You’re going to make it. I-”

“No, Rainbow Dash, not me, us,” Twilight said firmly, even fervently. “I know that you’d give your life to save me, but that’s not what I want to know. I want to know if we’re all going to make it. I want you to tell me that we’re all going to make it, even… even if it isn’t true.”

Rainbow tried to smile. “We’re all going to make it,” she said. “We’re all going to make it, and we’re all going to meet up at the Vytal Festival and have ice cream, just like old times.”

When you are here I feel like I’m complete.

When will we be complete again?

At the Vytal festival, maybe?

I hope so.

I really hope so.

Fluttershy, Applejack, stay safe. Wherever you are, stay safe.

Blake had climbed up onto the roof of the train, the better to get a clear view of the world on both sides of the southward bound train. She was aware that there was a risk that she might be spotted, many faunus of the White Fang having night vision as good as Blake herself, but she hoped that, if there was anyone out watching the train, then they wouldn’t be dissuaded from their mission by the presence of a single sentry.

And besides, she wanted to take a look. She would rather see the ambush coming, even if it was a bit of a risk.

And so, she stood upon the roof of the railcar, her legs spread out a little for balance as the train rattled and rumbled along.

She looked to the left and to the right and saw nothing. Her feline eyes pierced the darkness and saw nothing; it might be the trees concealed them, but it might be that there was – as yet – nothing to see.

With good fortune, that would, indeed, prove to be the case. It would be better for everyone if the confrontation to which they were hurtling – to which they aimed to be hurtling – took place under the light of the sun when more than just Blake could see clearly.

“Blake?” the voice was Sun’s. Blake glanced over her shoulder to see him clambering onto the train roof after her. He spread his arms out on either side of him, swaying left and right for a moment before he got his balance on the moving surface sorted.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m just taking a look around,” Blake said. She paused. “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sun said. “You just look a little… broody.” He grinned. “I guess that’s just the default with you, huh?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

Sun's smile widened endearingly, or at least, he seemed to hope that it was endearing.

Blake rolled her eyes. “I’m not brooding,” she muttered. “Not right now, anyway.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sun replied. He took a cautious step towards her, and then another, his tail sticking straight out behind him like he was trying to use it to help him balance. “Because, if you have anything that you need to brood on, you know you can always talk to me instead, right?”

Blake turned to face him. “I… need to get better at remembering that,” she admitted. “Anyway, we should go back down into the train.”

“Right now?” Sun asked. “Do we have to?”

Blake frowned. “Is there something wrong with you?” she asked.

“No,” Sun answered quickly. “Not wrong, exactly, I just… can we talk?”

“Up here?” Blake said. “You don’t seem very comfortable.”

“I’m not,” Sun admitted. “But no one can overhear us up here.”

The frown remained on Blake’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember what you were talking to Pyrrha about earlier today?” Sun asked. “When you were talking about Penny’s fairy tales?”

“I… sure,” Blake said. “The Little Angel, right?”

“You talked about transformation,” Sun reminded her. “You, uh, you weren’t much of a fan.”

“No,” Blake murmured. The idea of changing yourself to fit someone else’s idea of what you ought to be, it… it hit too close to home for her to enjoy stories like that anymore. Pyrrha might say that the angel was becoming her true self so that she could love and be loved, and that was all very well for Pyrrha to say – and Blake could even see why Pyrrha wanted to see it so; she would even say that for Pyrrha, it really was happening just like that, Jaune had seen her for who she really was and appreciated her for it. But Blake had thought that she was becoming once, becoming the person she was meant to be and being seen and loved for who she really was… but she had gradually come to realise that what she had thought was becoming was really Adam forcing her to become someone who suited him better.

If the prince really loved her, then she wouldn’t have needed to shed her wings to obtain his love.

And if he didn’t know her, then she was stupid to cast away a part of who she was in the hope that they would fall in love.

Because she didn’t love him; how could she? What she felt was… just dangerous.

“Did you mean it?” Sun asked anxiously.

“I did,” Blake replied and noticed that he seemed to wilt a little as he said. “Sun, why are you asking me this?”

“I just… I don’t think that all change has to be a bad thing, does it?” Sun asked. “I mean it’s not as though we start out perfect, right? We’ve all got things we can improve on.”

“Of course, and I don’t dispute that,” Blake said. “I know that I’m not perfect, but that-” She cut herself off. She hadn’t talked too much to Sun – or to anyone – about Adam or about what it had been like with him. They couldn’t be ignorant of the fact that she and Adam had been together, but at the same time… she didn’t want to spill the truth, not even to Sun. She felt she had a right to that much privacy. “There’s a difference,” she whispered, “between me recognising that I have flaws and trying to move past them and someone else deciding that who I am isn’t good enough and that I should change to please them better. No one should change who they are for someone else.”

“I’m willing to change,” Sun said. “For you.”

Blake gasped. Her eyes widened. She wished… she wished that he had said anything but that, anything at all. She would have rather that he ended things than say that as though it was a mark of his commitment. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t say that, Sun; you mustn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes me feel like him!” Blake cried, taking a step back and away from Sun. “And I’m not… I don’t want to… I won’t be like him. I won’t remake you in my image and call it love.”

“You’re not,” Sun declared. “You’re not like that guy; you’re not doing… that.”

“Then why do you think that you should change who you are for my sake?”

“Because I’ll lose you the way I am!” Sun shouted. “Because… because I’m not the guy you want, not like this. You don’t want someone who can’t settle down, someone whose feet start to itch if he stands still for too long, someone-”

“Footloose and fancy free?” Blake suggested. “Sun, if that’s who you are, then I have no right to demand that you change that.”

“But it’s not who you are,” Sun said. “Is it?”

“I…” Blake hesitated. “I don’t know who I am, Sun. I don’t know what’s me and… and what are the parts that he made of me.”

Sun stared into her eyes. “I do,” he said. “You’re not the person who walks away when the monster’s gone; you’re the person who stays and fights for what she believes in until all the problems are taken care of. And I-”

“Don’t,” Blake said, holding up one hand, and arm, so that the moonlight started glinting off her armband. “Please don’t. I know that… that we don’t seem to be a perfect fit, but… but that doesn’t mean that you need to change who you are for me. I don’t want you to change who you are for me.”

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Blake insisted. “Nothing is stopping us being together now, and later… I’m not ready to fall in love yet, not again, not after… and it has nothing to do with you.” She forced a smile onto her face. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“For now,” Sun murmured.

“Isn’t 'for now' enough?” Blake asked.

“With you?” Sun asked. “Yeah, it’s more than enough.”

Jaune plucked at the strings of his guitar. “I, uh, I’m not really sure how good I am. I never had much of an audience outside of my sisters, but, uh, well… are you sure you want to hear this?”

Pyrrha smiled. “I can’t wait,” she said softly.

A flush of colour rose to Jaune’s cheeks. “Okay then, well, why don’t we-?”

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha looked around. It was Ruby who had spoken, but Ruby was standing behind Penny, half-hidden behind her, her hands upon the Atlesian girl’s shoulders as though she was both supporting her and stopping her from running away, although why Penny would want to run away was something that Pyrrha couldn’t fathom.

Pyrrha got to her feet; she and Jaune had both sat down for him to give her a performance, but now, she rose again. “Ruby, Penny,” she greeted, “is something wrong?”

Penny certainly looked as though something was wrong, it had to be said; her head was bowed, and she had her hands clasped together in front of her. “N-no,” she said, “there’s nothing wrong.” She hiccupped. “I should go.”

“Penny, no,” Ruby hissed, whispering something into Penny’s ear.

Pyrrha took a step towards them. Her boots tapped against the metal floor of the train. “Penny, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” Penny cried, before hiccupping again.

“Do you need me to go?” Jaune asked.

“No!” Penny said loudly, and this time, she didn’t hiccup. “I… I’ve been given permission to tell all of you. I just…” She looked at Ruby, her expression stricken with fear.

Ruby nodded eagerly. “It’ll be okay, Penny.”

“Penny,” Pyrrha said gently, “if there is something that you want to tell us, then there’s no need for you to be afraid of saying it.”

Penny didn’t look reassured by that. “I… Ruby has something important to tell you on my behalf!”

“What?” Ruby cried. “This isn’t what we talked about!”

“I want you to tell them,” Penny said.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll know how to say it.”

“No, I don’t!”

“But I don’t know how to say it either!” Penny cried.

“Say what?” Jaune demanded. “Why don’t one of you just spit it out, whatever it is?”

“Penny’s a robot!” Ruby cried, her words followed hard upon by a squeak of alarm as her hands left Penny’s shoulders and flew to her mouth.

Penny did not run, but she tensed to do so, her legs bending and bracing, her whole body lowering as though she were a sprinter waiting for the starting gun.

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. A robot? Penny was a robot? That was… how was that possible?

“Oh,” Jaune said, in a tone of flat surprise. “I… okay.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked, for want of anything else to say. Her mind seemed to have been dried of words.

Penny bowed her head, but it was still just about possible to make out a nod. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m a robot. My father… built me in a lab in Atlas, with the help of Twilight and some other people you haven’t met. That is the reason why Team Rosepetal gets changed in a different part of the locker room from all the other first years, even from Team Sapphire: it’s because, if people saw me… outside of my clothes, I don’t look entirely human.”

Pyrrha didn’t ask what that meant, and neither did Jaune. Pyrrha found herself staring and, upon realising it, felt ashamed of herself. Not just for staring but for the reasons why Penny looked so nervous around her which were now as clear as daylight in her mind.

She bowed, her teal drops, hanging on chains from her circlet, falling down on either side of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Penny.”

Now, it was Penny’s turn to gasp in surprise. “'Sorry'? But, sorry for what?”

“For what I said, earlier tonight,” Pyrrha explained. “Knowing what I know now, I can only imagine how I must have upset you. That wasn’t my intent, but we are judged not by our intentions, but by our deeds and by the effect those deeds have on others… but the effect that my words had on you which are plain to see. For that, I can only hope that my apology is enough, and if it is not… any way that I can make it up to you, I will.”

“But… but I’m a robot,” Penny protested. “Just like all of these androids on this train.”

Pyrrha smiled thinly. “I don’t think that you’re exactly like them. You… you have aura, don’t you?” It was the only explanation that made sense. She had seen Penny’s aura on the board in combat class, when Penny had been called up to face some luckless opponent, and it was more logical to assume by that that Penny had aura than that everyone was somehow and for some reason being deceived into thinking that she had that which she, in truth, had not.

“Yes,” Penny said. “I’m the world’s first robot with aura.”

Even though it was the response she had suspected and expected, hearing confirmation of it from Penny’s own lips made Pyrrha’s mouth form an O and her eyes widen a little. “Extraordinary,” she murmured. She couldn’t imagine how the idea had even been conceived of, let alone accomplished. Making aura? Making a soul? A religious person might have found the idea rather horrifying, but as somebody who ticked the ‘spiritual, not religious’ box on her census form, Pyrrha found herself rather in awe of the accomplishment.

“You have a soul, then,” she said. “In that alone, you are nothing like any other robot in the world, and by being so unalike in the most important way… you’re barely like them at all. I… I stand by what I said about Atlas’s other robots, but you… you’re not like them. You have a soul and, having a soul, are free.”

Penny’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. “Ruby said something like that.”

“And Ruby can be very wise,” Pyrrha said with a glance at her teammate. “Please don’t take what I said to heart. I meant no offence by it.”

“It’s the control that Pyrrha objects to,” Jaune said. “Isn’t it? Not the… the robot-ness in and of itself.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “We’re not just weapons, and because of that… we cannot stop asking if what we’re being asked to do is the right thing. But you can question, as much as I can, you can ask, and you can refuse, for all that these other androids cannot. I’m sorry if you thought that I had something against you.”

“It’s okay,” Penny murmured. “I… I think I understand why you feel the way you do, and I understand… it was just hard, to think that someone I admire so much might… hate me for what I am, so that who I was didn’t matter anymore. Blake… she said that… she took it back, but I wasn’t sure if… I’m so glad that you and Ruby feel this way.”

“And me, too,” Jaune said. “No matter what you’re made of, you’re still one of us in my book.”

“Thank you, Jaune,” Penny said sweetly. “Although…”

“Penny?” Pyrrha asked. “Is there something else?”

“I have permission to tell Team Sapphire the truth about what I am,” Penny said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that General Ironwood doesn’t want many people to know about it, so you won’t tell anyone else, will you?” she looked anxiously at Ruby, at Pyrrha, and at Jaune.

“Of course not,” Ruby declared. “You’re our friend; we would never do that to you.”

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Jaune said.

“For my part, I promise that nobody will hear of it from me,” Pyrrha vowed, placing one hand over her heart. “You have my word.”

Penny smiled. “Thank you, Pyrrha. That means a lot.”

“Although,” Pyrrha added, “I don’t see why the need to keep what… to keep your true nature a secret from everyone. What purpose does it serve?” And how would you keep it a secret for a long time? Did Penny age? It seemed a rude question to come out and ask her directly, but at the same time, Pyrrha could only assume that the answer was ‘no,’ because how could materials age in the way that a person did? Some people retained a youthful countenance – one of Pyrrha’s beauty consultants had told her once that her skin would keep her looking young, provided she took proper care of it – but at some point, people were going to notice that Penny wasn’t ageing a day over seventeen, surely? Looking closer to fifteen than seventeen, in point of fact. Why lie to the world, when it was sure to come out at some point?

“I think,” Penny said, after a moment’s thought, “that it’s a little because some people might not like it – a robot who looks like a human, a synthetic being with aura – but mostly, I think it’s just so I have an advantage in the tournament next semester. My father really wants me to win.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Pyrrha said. “I…” She hesitated, but decided that, after sharing with Pyrrha and the rest her greatest secret, Penny might be said to be owed a secret from Pyrrha in return “My semblance is polarity,” she said. “It gives me the power to manipulate metal.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “Really? But lots of people don’t even think you’ve discovered your semblance! You’ve never-”

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said. “Like you, I keep my full potential a secret in order to retain a competitive edge if I should need it. I suppose it makes competitive sense, although…”

“Although what?” Penny asked.

“Pyrrha,” Jaune ventured, “hasn’t always found that… Pyrrha… it’s hard to explain, Penny; we should probably let Pyrrha tell you.”

“Tell me something, Penny,” Pyrrha said. “Do you want to win the Vytal Festival? Not your father, not General Ironwood, but you? Is that what you want?”

Penny tilted her head first one way and then the other. “I… yes, I think I would,” she confessed. “At least, I want to be…” She stopped. “I’ve never been in a tournament before; what’s it like?”

“Intimidating, if you don’t like crowds,” Ruby muttered.

A slight smile crossed Pyrrha’s face. “Forget everything that you have learned about combat in the field, because a tournament is nothing like that. This will be my first Vytal Festival too, and I can’t speak for the team rounds, but when it gets to the one-on-one rounds… when it’s just you and your opponent, facing each other across the circle, that is combat at its purest essence. No reinforcements, no tricks, no surprises: just you and your opponent matching the skills that you’ve honed and refined against each other. Of course, it goes the other way as well: competing in tournaments isn’t always the best preparation for going out and confronting monsters, but when you find yourself in the arena, that little space becomes the whole world to you, that crowd that you can hear cheering you on become all the people in the world, and when you win and throw down your opponent, the exhilaration…” She sighed. “For a long time, I thought that was the greatest feeling in the world.”

“Did you find something better?” Penny asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly, glancing at Jaune as she thought of the sensation of his kisses, so clumsy but at the same time so wonderfully full of feeling. That made her blush, and she decided that she didn’t necessarily want Penny to ask her about it. “But, uh, even so,” she continued with a slightly forced laugh, “it’s still a great feeling, to triumph in that space like that.”

“It sounds incredible,” Penny said in wonderous longing.

“It is,” Pyrrha agreed. She couldn’t stifle a sigh before she said, “Actually winning the tournament, on the other hand, is something else altogether. Something rather less pleasant.”

Penny frowned. “I don’t understand. If winning the matches feels so good, then what’s the problem with winning the tournament?”

“Because once you win the tournament, you…” Pyrrha sought the right words to explain it. “You become the property of everyone who watched you win the tournament. They feel as though they know you, even though they don’t and never will, and because they feel that way, they feel entitled to your time and to yourself, and all the while, you’re prevented from ever getting close enough to really know anyone at all because of your status and everything else that surrounds you. Competition can be exhilarating if you feel that way, but victory… there are times when I’m not sure that I would wish the cost of victory on anyone.”

“I… aren’t your teammates close to you?”

“Yes!” Pyrrha said quickly, before Ruby or Jaune could respond. “Of course they are, and they know it too, but… I had to almost retire from the tournament circuit and come to Beacon in order to have a chance at a normal life. I don’t know. Perhaps my own experience isn’t universal. I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to put you off. You should do what you think is best, what you want.”

“Hmm,” Penny mused. “I… when you describe what it feels like to win in a tournament, it sounds like all I’ve ever dreamed, except that none of my dreams ever meant that I’d have to say goodbye to my friends. So I suppose… I don’t really know what I want.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Penny, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” Penny said. “Go right ahead.”

“How old are you?”

Penny smiled. “I am eleven months and fifteen days old.”

“Really?” Jaune explained. “That… that’s really young!”

“So?” Ruby asked. “Even if Penny’s young, she’s old enough to understand what she’s doing and old enough to fight.”

“I suppose,” Pyrrha murmured, feeling ever so slightly appalled at the idea that this mere child – she was aware that there were many who wouldn’t consider her a child, but this was surely something else altogether – being placed into such danger. But, on the other hand, if Penny didn’t mind, then who was she to judge either her circumstances or those closer to her than Pyrrha herself who had placed her in this situation? She mastered her feelings of mild disgust and kept them off her face. “In that case, perhaps it isn’t so surprising that you haven’t figured out exactly what you want yet.”

“I do have a lot to learn,” Penny acknowledged. “I think that’s a reason General Ironwood wants me to enter the tournament. I’ve studied great fighters like you, but by competing against the best in Remnant, I’ll learn so much more about different ways of fighting.”

“You flatter me, Penny,” Pyrrha said lightly. And then, because she didn’t want to experience any more flattery, she continued, “But do you want to fight in the tournament? Do you enjoy fighting?”

“Not against the grimm,” Penny admitted, “but sparring can be fun. I’d like to at least try this Vytal Tournament, if only to see what it’s like. And besides, I’m not sure how my father or General Ironwood would take it if I told them that I didn’t want to do it now.”

“If they care for you and have your best interests at heart, then I’m sure that they would accept any decision that you make,” Pyrrha said, albeit with a touch more hope than any knowledge born out of experience. “As I said, I’d hate to discourage you from something that you want to try. In any case, Penny, perhaps you’d allow me to give you some advice if you wish to fight, in the arena or in battle.”

“Of course,” Penny said. “I’d welcome any help that someone as great as you could give me.”

“You really don’t have to flatter me like this.”

“I’m not,” Penny said. “As part of my initial training, I watched footage of all of your fights alongside other elite fighters. You’re amazing! I can’t wait until we get to meet in the tournament and I can see how I stack up against you. I know that my father is looking forward to that as well.”

“Is he?” Pyrrha murmured. Hearing that, Mother would probably disapprove of what I’m about to do. So might Sunset, for that matter. “From what I’ve seen of you in action, you share a common fault with Ruby in that you rely very heavily upon your weapons.”

“Doesn’t every huntsman rely on their weapons?” Jaune asked.

“To an extent,” Pyrrha conceded, “but Ruby wouldn’t know what to do without hers, would you, Ruby?”

Ruby pouted. “No,” she muttered aggrievedly. “Yang tried to teach me how to throw a punch before the year started, but I never got the point of it.”

“The point is that you might be disarmed,” Pyrrha said.

“You never taught me how to throw a punch,” Jaune pointed out.

“I… thought that perhaps you should concentrate on mastering your weapons first,” Pyrrha told him.

“Ah,” Jaune replied. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“But, in general, I think it’s best if you have some idea of what to do if you found yourself without your weapons or in a situation where you could make best use of them,” Pyrrha continued. “If I were you, Penny, I should ask Rainbow Dash to teach you how to fight hand to hand.”

Penny’s eyes were wide. “You really are amazing.”

“Hardly,” Pyrrha said. “This is very rudimentary. Have you found your semblance yet?”

Penny shook her head. “My father isn’t sure that I have one.”

“If you have aura, then you have a semblance,” Pyrrha said, “and you can unlock it, with proper training.” If she could unlock it, then, depending on what her semblance was, it would be another way for Penny to protect herself or engage her opponents without having to rely solely upon her ability to direct her swords.

Penny nodded. “I will. I’ll keep trying. Thank you, Pyrrha.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Pyrrha said. She paused. “Would you care to join us? Jaune was just about to play something.”

Penny clasped her hands together. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

“Don’t say that until you’ve actually heard me play,” Jaune said. “But, uh, I’ll do my best.” He picked up his guitar, and the car began to fill with music as he strummed on the strings.

“Sunset?”

Sunset glanced at Ruby out of the corner of her eyes. The sun had broken on the new day, and the two of them found themselves alone. Jaune and Pyrrha were sparring; the Atlesians, Sun, and Blake were… Sunset couldn’t have said exactly where they all were, but the point is that they weren’t here, and Sunset and Ruby were here – here being the ‘living’ car with its crates of guns and ammo – and nobody else was.

This wasn’t a position which Sunset found wholly disagreeable, depending on what, precisely, Ruby wanted.

“Yes, Ruby?” she replied. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” Ruby replied. “I wanted to ask you something about what you said last night. Or… what you didn’t say?”

Sunset frowned. She had an unfortunate idea of where this might be going, but because it was unfortunate, she didn’t want to preempt it going anywhere if she could help it. “You might have to forgive me; I don’t always remember the things that I didn’t say.”

Ruby looked as if she didn’t entirely believe Sunset on that point, and she might even be right to look that way. “When I said that my mother wasn’t famous, that she didn’t win any fame for being a great huntress or a… a silver-eyed warrior,” she hissed the name, “you were going to say something. But you didn’t.”

“It wasn’t the time or the place.”

“Is now the time or the place?”

Sunset snorted. “It’s as close to both as it will ever get, I suppose,” she said. “I was going to ask… then what’s the point? Your mother, your father, their team. They were great you say, and I believe you. They were good at what they did, very good, and yet… what? What was it all for? I… I didn’t want to say it but if there is neither fame nor glory at the end of this, then what’s the point? I… I don’t want to die, but I’d be willing to do it if I knew that my memory would linger evergreen and immortal in the hearts of men. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality, like Pyrrha said.” She fell silent for a moment, and her frown deepened. “But if there is no immortality, if in death, the ashes of our memory will be blown away, cast to the winds and forgotten by all but a few of us then… then what’s the point?”

That is not my destiny. That is not what I’ve fought and kicked and struggled for. That is not my fate. I am not made for passing mortal life but for things grander by far. I was made to ascend to greatness. A forgotten death is not my end.

So Sunset hoped. So Sunset devoutly hoped. But she could not believe with absolute certainty. Ruby’s words, they… Ruby had not meant to gnaw at her insides, but she had. Ruby’s mother had been a great huntress, possessed of a magical power of immense… power. Yet she had perished in uncertain circumstances, and only her family remembered her.

Would that be her fate also? Would that be the fate that they all shared?

Forbid it, destiny.

“The people that she saved are still alive,” Ruby said. “I think that’s the point.”

“Yeah, but…” Sunset hesitated, because this was the bit that had the highest likelihood of coming out wrong, but equally, Sunset didn’t see how she could avoid saying it. Her mouth twisted awkwardly.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t want to say it,” Sunset said. “It will seem too cruel.”

Ruby hesitated. “I… I want to hear it. I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Do you?” Sunset said. “Do you really?”

“I do,” Ruby said resolutely. “Whatever it is, I want to hear it.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Your mother was loved, I have no doubt, but… would you rather have all those that she saved yet saved, or would you rather have your mother alive to tuck you in at night and read you bedtime stories and take care of you when you were sick?”

Ruby hesitated. She glanced at her booted feet. She drew her rifle from behind her back and ran one hand down the crimson barrel. It was as if… she looked ashamed of herself for some reason that Sunset couldn’t fathom. Eventually, the words came, but even then, they came slowly, haltingly, as if she was forcing every word past some obstruction in her throat. “I… I don’t know. There are times when I think about what my mom did, going on missions like she did, and I get so angry. I ask myself why she couldn’t have quit hunting grimm and started teaching like my Dad did. I think about what it did to Dad when she was gone, I think about what Yang had to do to take care of me, and I get so angry because I wonder if she even cared about us. There are times when I ask myself the same question that you just asked me, and I ask myself… if she really loved us, then why didn’t she stay with us?

“But then… then I remember how kind she was, the way that she smiled, the sound of her voice when she sang me to sleep. I… I don’t remember very much about my mom, but I remember that she was a good person, and that’s what… that’s what everyone tells me about her, and that’s what her diary tells me about her too. And so… so I have to ask myself if she had stayed, if she hadn’t fought for what she believed in, then… would she have been the same person that I remember? The person that we all loved.”

Sunset looked down upon her younger, smaller teammate and the shamefaced look upon her face. “That… that was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?”

Ruby closed her eyes and nodded. “I… I think… I think you’re the only person that I could say this to. I couldn’t tell Dad or Yang or even Uncle Qrow; they all want… I think they need me to be…”

“The good girl,” Sunset finished for her. “The girl who smiles and never gives up and keeps everyone else’s spirits up the one who never lets anything get to them or get them down.”

“They’re not wrong!” Ruby said. “I am that person. Most of the time. But there are times when… I don’t know, I just couldn’t tell them that I sometimes need stuff like that.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be ashamed about it,” Sunset said. “The truth is, if your mom was alive, you’d probably be a lot angrier with her than you are now. There’s no shame in it; it’s… I think it’s pretty natural to rage against our moms.”

“Even… even when they’re… not around?”

“That just gives us different things to be mad at them for,” Sunset muttered. She shook her head, “Listen, Ruby… just because your family all want you to be something doesn’t mean that you have to be what they want. Our parents… sometimes, they want things from us that we can’t give to them, and that’s not our fault. You can’t give and give and give of yourself, because in the end, there’s nothing left.”

“Even if it hurts them?”

“Even if it did, nobody’s worth sacrificing your own self for,” Sunset declared. “Nobody. If you can’t be you, if you let other people's expectations or desires reshape you, if you let the world bend you to its will, then you’ve lost, and you’ll never amount to a damn thing. You have to be yourself, you have to have your pride no matter what they think, no matter what it costs you… because the cost of surrendering yourself is always greater.”

“You’d sacrifice your life but not yourself?”

“I’d give my life for you, for Pyrrha, for Jaune,” Sunset said. “Maybe for Blake, as strange as that might sound. But I wouldn’t become a completely different person just because you asked me to.”

Ruby looked pensive, but whatever else she might have said or not said was interrupted by the sudden jarring shaking of the whole train which knocked Ruby to her knees and forced Sunset to grab the side of the compartment to avoid being thrown out the open doorway.

The train began to slow to a complete stop.

“What’s going on?” Ruby asked, looking up at Sunset. “Do you think-?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said as she helped Ruby to her feet. “I think this is what we came here for.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: the big addition here is the scene with Sun and Blake, as well as Penny confessing her secret to Pyrrha and Jaune.

On Rails (Rewritten)

On Rails

Rainbow lowered her crimson goggles down over her eyes and magnified as she stuck her head out of the car.

The train was slowing down after a substantial bump coming from up front.

Staring down the train was enough to confirm her suspicions: a stolen Paladin had gotten onto the railway line, which was causing the engine’s proximity sensors to kick in and start slowing the train to prevent a collision. The train was getting slower all the time, and they were coming to a stop in the lee of a scarlet ridge.

A ridge down which Rainbow could see, as she turned on the magnification, eight figures slid down towards the decelerating train.

Eight of them; nine of us who can fight. They’ve got the Paladin; we’ve got the droids. This feels like a straight fight. It would be nice if we could do something about that, but I won’t lose sleep if we can’t.

Yeah, yeah, Yang, we can’t fight without air support. But we might as well use it if we can get it.

Rainbow ducked back into the car, her gaze – tinted red on account of the goggles – passing over Twilight and to the looming humanoid war machines packed into the car. “Twi, get in one of these Paladins and contact the General; let him know we've got visuals on eight men and a Paladin, then stay there until I tell you that it’s safe to come out.”

Twilight’s mouth formed an O of surprise. “But I can-”

“No,” Rainbow said quickly. “There’s eight guys coming down here towards us. Just eight guys, which means that they’re serious, like Blake said they would be; which is why you’re going to get into that armoured cockpit and you aren’t going to come out until it’s safe. Understand?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment, before she nodded her head and put her bow away. She pulled out her scroll, tapped a couple of buttons, and the cockpit of the closest Paladin opened with a hydraulic hiss.

Twilight climbed in and sat down. Her look was serious. “I think I can issue some basic command directives to the battle droids, if you think it would help.”

“I think that would be great,” Rainbow said. “I’ll tell you what I want them to do, okay?”

“Right,” Twilight said. “Rainbow… you’ll be okay, won’t you?”

Rainbow grinned and put on an uncannily good impersonation of Applejack’s unique accent, even if she did say so herself. “Now don’t you worry about a thing, sugarcube. Everything is gonna be just fine.”

Twilight giggled. “Stick a cupcake?”

“In both eyes,” Rainbow said as the cockpit door rose up and gradually hid Twilight from her sight as it sealed her away inside the armoured belly of the mech.

She pulled an earpiece out of her pocket and inserted it into her ear. It was wirelessly linked to her scroll, and though it only had a short range, it would let her talk to the other members of RSPT and SAPR – and Blake and Sun – without having to hold her scroll in one hand all the time.

“Okay, people, this is it; we have a stolen mech up front and eight bad guys coming down on us,” Rainbow said. “Comm check; everybody sound off and report your position.”

“Pyrrha here; Jaune and I are in car nine.”

“Jaune here; I can hear you.”

“Blake here; I’m in car six with Sun.”

“Sun here, uh, reading you loud and clear; is that what I’m supposed to say?”

“Sunset here; I’m in car five with Ruby.”

“Ruby here; I’m in car five with Sunset.”

“Ciel reporting from car three.”

“This is Penny in car three with Ciel!”

“Okay, and I’m in car two with Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Twilight, do we have any Onagers?”

“Just one,” Twilight said. “It’s in car number one just ahead of us.”

“Okay, can you get it out and engaging that Paladin grabbing the train?” Rainbow said. “And have the rest of the mechs dismount and form a skirmish line in front of the train as a first line intercept against our boarders.”

“Robots won’t stop eight White Fang elites,” Blake said.

“I know, but they can chip away at their aura some and make them think twice about calling in a whole mass of goons for backup,” Rainbow said. She was making the assumption that the White Fang would ignore the robots once they got past them, but then, part of leadership on the battlefield was guessing what you thought the enemy would do and reacting before they did it. “Ciel, you and Penny support the Onager and get that Paladin off the front of this train. Blake, Sun, and I will join you and cover your backs.”

“Understood,” Ciel said.

“I’m combat ready!” cried Penny.

“You got it,” Blake drawled.

“Sunset, I’ll leave your team to you.”

“Thanks,” Sunset said. “Okay, we’ll fight by pairs. Pyrrha, Jaune, defend the caboose; Ruby and I will get up on the roof and fight where we stand. Whichever pair repels the enemy assault first will join the other team before we all make our way towards the front of the train to assist Rosepetal. Clear?”

“Understood, Sunset,” Pyrrha said.

There was a moment’s silence on the line before Sunset said, “Pyrrha, Jaune. Good luck out there.”

“And you,” Pyrrha said. “Good luck, Ruby.”

“Good luck, Pyrrha; good luck, Jaune,” Ruby said. “Good luck out there, Blake.”

“Good luck, everyone,” Rainbow said. “Remember, we want a prisoner.”

“And nobody fights alone,” Sunset said.

“Yeah, if possible,” Rainbow said. She left the car with the Paladins and leapt in a single bound up onto the roof of the train. “Let’s do this, people. Ciel, do you want to say a few words?”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “Arise, arise, flowers of the north; up, through snow and cold and heart of winter; rise up and bloom in glory, for our kingdom calls to us! For the Lady and the glory of Atlas!”

“Thank you, Ciel,” Rainbow said.

“Vale needs a battle cry,” Sunset griped.

“Go Sapphire!” Ruby cried.

“Or we could just use that,” Sunset said.

Rainbow grinned a little as she focussed on the eight guys descending down upon their train. As far as she could see, one of them wasn’t wearing a mask, which meant… yeah, it was Torchwick’s little girl; she recognised her from the wanted photos, the one with the hair that was halfway to pink.

“Heads up. Torchwick’s girl is here, which means the man himself can’t be far behind.”

“Yeah!” Ruby cried. “Just as planned.”

“Not entirely,” Sunset said. “We haven’t seen the guy himself yet.”

The Atlesian droids were starting to deploy off the train, even if there was – as yet – no sign of the quadrupedal AW-250 Onager. But as Rainbow Dash watched, one of the eight enemies – one of those wearing a White Fang mask over their face – unfurled a pair of brown wings which caught the light of the sun and began to soar away from their comrades and over the heads of the AK-190s, dodging their upwards fire as they traced a delicate pattern through the air.

Rainbow Dash hit the button to pop her wings out of her flight suit. “We’ve got a flier on the other side; moving to intercept!”

“Wait!” Sunset yelled. “I said nobody fights alone!”

“You lead your team; I’ll lead mine,” Rainbow said as she jumped off the roof of the train car, her jetpack giving her thrust before the wind caught her wings and carried her upwards on the current. A burst of thrust guided her, the current kept her aloft, and the wind blew through her multi-coloured hair and pushed against her exposed cheeks as she soared through the skies.

This was the most thrilling feeling that Rainbow Dash had ever or probably would ever experience. It was better than flying an airship, it was better than fighting grimm, it was better than standing in an arena and hearing a crowd bellow out your name, it was… it was pure exhilaration, the feeling of the wind beneath your wings, the feeling of the air rustling through your hair, the force of the air pressure, her wingsuit guiding her and driving her on. It was already the biggest thrill Rainbow would ever have in her life, but she’d never had a chance to test her aerial prowess against an actual faunus flier before. This promised to be something special.

The faunus was aware of her now, angling her wings as she drew a pair of swords from across her back and flew, the sunlight glittering upon the metal blades, straight towards Rainbow Dash.

So you want to go head to head, do you? Rainbow smirked and drew her submachine guns from the holsters at her hip. As the two fliers closed with each other, Rainbow Dash squeezed both triggers.

The faunus weaved her swords in swift, fluid patterns, tracing transient silver shapes through the air as she deflected Rainbow’s bullets away with her swords.

Oh, I think I like you, Rainbow said. She holstered her SMGs – for now – and clenched her hands into fists as she soared through the air straight towards her masked opponent.

Rainbow cocked back her fist for a punch. The White Fang flier drew back both swords for a double slashing stroke. They both bellowed at the tops of their lungs as the air beat at their faces, and they charged at one another.

The two of them collided in mid-air. Rainbow blocked the sword strike, taking the faunus’ arms on her wrist before the blades could connect, but her fist hit home and knocked the White Fang mask off the bird-faunus’ face, revealing a familiar pair of golden eyes and familiar white hair in a short, cropped style, and a familiar angular face set in a surly expression.

“Gilda?”

“Rainbow Dash,” Gilda snarled the name vituperatively as she retreated a few feet away.

The two of them hovered in the air, facing one another.

“I don’t…” Rainbow’s words died on her tongue. Gilda? Gilda was with the White Fang? Gilda was with the White Fang in Vale?!

“What are you doing here?!” Rainbow Dash demanded. “You actually went and joined the White Fang?”

“Of course I joined the White Fang!” Gilda snarled. “Did you think I had those pamphlets so that I could start a collection? The White Fang opened my eyes, Dash, and I’m going to help them change the world!”

Rainbow gritted her teeth. She had hoped… she didn’t know what she’d hoped. Of course Gilda was with the White Fang; it had been inevitable that she would join them, what with how bitter she was, what with the things that she chose to believe, the White Fang propaganda that she absorbed like a sponge soaked up water. It had only been Rainbow’s wishful thinking that had made this a surprise to her. “How long have you been with them?”

“Since you abandoned me to spend all your time with your human friends!” Gilda yelled. She charged forward, slashing at Rainbow with her swords. Rainbow dodged. “Tell me, Dashie, do they still pretend to forget that you’re complete trash in their eyes?”

Rainbow growled. “It’s not like that!” She flew straight for Gilda with a spinning kick aimed for her head. Gilda ducked down beneath the blow, but Rainbow was able to evade her upwards cut in response.

“It’s exactly like that; they’re humans!” Gilda snarled.

“So what?” Rainbow demanded. “They accepted me anyway, they care about me, they’re a part of my heart like I’m a part of theirs. If you could have just gotten over yourself, they could have been your friends too.”

“I don’t need a bunch of patronising humans to take pity on me, to bend down and pull me up!” Gilda yelled. “The White Fang is my family, and we push each other forward!”

“Forward to what?” Rainbow demanded. “Off a cliff? You can’t win this, Gilda. There’s nothing waiting for the White Fang but defeat and death.” And I really don’t want that for you.

Gilda shrieked in wordless fury, like an eagle descending upon the hapless field mouse in the meadow, as she surged towards Rainbow Dash with blades drawn back. But Rainbow was no helpless field mouse, and she flew backwards, away from her erstwhile friend and present enemy, drawing her submachine guns and taking aim.

“Don’t make me do this, Gilda,” she begged. Your mom worked for my dad for years, our families went on vacation together to share the costs, we were neighbours, we hung out all the time.

For a while, it was like you were the sister that I never had.

I really, really don’t want to kill you.

“Do you think that I want this?” Gilda cried as she drove Dash back with a series of wide slashing strokes, forcing Rainbow to fly away to keep out of reach of her twin shining swords. “Do you think that I want to fight against my best friend?”

Rainbow evaded Gilda’s slashes, flying over her old friend’s head. “If you don’t want to do it Gilda, then don’t do it!”

“Right back atcha!” Gilda shouted as her wings propelled her straight towards Rainbow Dash, driving Rainbow before her. “If you don’t want to fight me, then throw down your guns.” She stopped, hovering in place, her wings beating lazily. “You know, the White Fang could use a good fighter like you, Dash.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “You want me to join the White Fang? You want me to let you take our weapons so you can kill innocent people? So you can kill kids?”

“Do I look like the sort of person who kills kids to you?” Gilda demanded.

“The White Fang tries,” Rainbow growled. She had lost touch with Gilda before the Canterlot Wedding, although not too long before; if Gilda had said some of what she’d said before the wedding after it, well, Rainbow’s reaction wouldn’t have been so polite as to storm out of Gilda’s place.

Gilda winced. “That… Adam says that… liberation might not be pretty, but it will be just. You remember Low Town, right? Don’t you want the folks there to have the chance to stand as equals with the people up above in Atlas?”

“Not like this,” Rainbow declared. “Not at any cost. I can’t let you take our weapons, G. But I don’t want to fight you either. Throw down your swords, and I promise you’ll be fairly treated. I’ll put in a good word for you, maybe get you a deal like-”

“I’m not going to surrender,” Gilda said, “and if you really remembered me, then you wouldn’t insult me by asking me too.”

Rainbow exhaled through her nostrils. “No, I guess I wouldn’t. Sorry.”

Gilda snorted. “Apology accepted. So, I won’t surrender to you, and you won’t join me, so where does that leave us?”

Rainbow gritted her teeth. “I don’t want to fight you, G.”

“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, because I’m not leaving without those weapons.”

“And I’m not letting you leave with them.”

Gilda grinned. “Then it looks like we’ll find out once and for all who’s the best!” she cried as she lunged forwards, her wings carrying her on, her swords thrust out before her. Rainbow fled, flying away as Gilda pursued. The two of them flew parallel to one another. Rainbow didn’t fire at Gilda, but at the same time, she kept out of the way of Gilda’s swords.

“You remember when we were kids, Dash? I thought you were going to be something special! You were supposed to destroy Atlas, not join it!”

It was all Rainbow Dash could do not to roll her eyes. “Ugh, enough with the hair thing, G, it’s just an old story my parents liked to talk about.”

Gilda’s response was a dive, her swords held out before her like lances; Rainbow swooped out of the way and let Gilda fly past her, arresting her descent and turning in mid-air to face Rainbow once more.

“Why, Dash?” Gilda demanded. “Why would you sell out your own people to Atlas? Why would you betray Atlas to defend the racist order that keeps us down in the dirt?”

“At least I’m not a terrorist,” Rainbow muttered.

“What was that?”

“We don’t have to do this! You don’t have to do this!”

“Yes, I do!” Gilda screamed as she lunged at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow ducked down, and Gilda’s stroke passed harmless overhead.

Well, if that’s how you want to play this.

Rainbow began to dive headfirst towards the ground.

Gilda followed, her wings beating furiously as she began to overtake Rainbow’s wingpack. Rainbow pushed it harder, still headed straight towards the ground without any deviations. She didn’t go to full power, just enough to stay ahead of Gilda without pulling so far ahead that her erstwhile friend would give up the chase.

“You going to ground?” Gilda taunted her as she pursued. “That’s smarter than challenging me in the skies, Dash. You see, I’m the real deal; you’re just a faker with an Atlesian toy strapped to your back.”

Oh, we’ll see who the faker is, Rainbow said as she continued to dive.

Rainbow dived, and Gilda followed. The wind beat against Rainbow’s face. It pushed her hair backwards out of her forehead. It drove the goggles into her skin.

Rainbow dive, and Gilda followed. Rainbow grinned as the ground rushed closer and closer and closer, as the trees of the Forever Fall reached up like grasping hands to grab at her. Rainbow nimbly dodged between two trees, the leaf-covered ground waiting to receive her; at the last possible moment, Rainbow pulled up and soared back over the trees and into the sky, sunlight glinting off her wings.

Judging by the crack and the cry of pain, Gilda hadn’t been quite so lucky.

Rainbow dropped to the ground, folding her wings up into the pack on her back as she found Gilda lying on the forest floor, half-buried under falling scarlet leaves.

Two kicks from Rainbow’s boots were sufficient to send Gilda flying into the nearest tree so hard that both the tree and the remains of Gilda’s aura broke. Gilda slid down the ruined stump to the ground, her breathing heavy as she stared at Rainbow Dash.

Gilda grinned. “So this is it, Dash? Are you going to shoot me? Or just take me in so Atlas can throw me in a hole and forget about me while I rot?”

How many people have you killed? Rainbow thought but didn’t ask. She didn’t really want to know. She hoped that the answer was zero, that this was Gilda’s first mission for the White Fang, but if that was a forlorn hope… she didn’t want to know.

“Just tell me why you’re doing this?”

“Because we’ll have the chance to build something so much better by the time we’re through!”

At what cost? Rainbow wanted to ask, but didn’t because she suspected the answer would be something like ‘at any cost,’ and she didn’t want to hear that come out of her friend’s mouth either.

She didn’t get it. She didn’t get it one bit. Gilda had always had a bit of an antisocial streak, but she wasn’t a bad person, not when Rainbow knew her. But now… the White Fang?

“What happened to you?”

“I opened my eyes,” Gilda snapped. “Maybe you should try it sometime. Or don’t. Whatever. Just do whatever you’re going to do to me and get it over with.”

Rainbow snorted and holstered her pistol. “Get out of here.”

Gilda stared at her for a moment as the forest fell silent around them. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Rainbow replied. I might be stupid, but I’m serious. “I can’t restrain you right now, and I have the authority to either spare you or kill you. I’m choosing to spare you. Get out of here and maybe think about what you’re doing.” She turned her back on the incredulous Gilda and began to walk away. She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Hey, G?”

“Yeah?” Gilda asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“It was good to see you, but if I see you again… things will go differently next time.”

“Yeah, you bet they will,” Gilda muttered.

Rainbow scowled and leapt into the air on Wings of Harmony. So, that was it then. There was going to be a next time. A time when she would have to… when she would have to kill someone she’d once called friend.

But at least that time was not today.

Today, she could still walk away.

And who knew? Gilda’s resolve might not actually last that long.

Until recently, Rainbow might have taken the shot when she had it or hauled her back to captivity, which was probably what she ought to have done now, in spite of the practical obstacles. But if Blake could change, renounce her White Fang ways and become… if Rainbow could give Blake the opportunity to become a good soldier of Atlas, how could she deny Gilda that same chance to come around to the right way of seeing the world?

And how likely was it that Gilda would come around to that way of thinking from a prison cell?

Look at me, I’m Rainbow Dash, and everyone gets a second chance when I’m around.

Pinkie would tell me I’d done the right thing.

I hope she would.

I hope someone would.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight’s voice crackled a little in Rainbow’s ear. “I made contact with General Ironwood; unfortunately, there’s no air support available; we’re still too far north of Vale. We’re on our own for now.”

“We’ll make do,” Rainbow assured her. “That flier got away from me, but she had her tail tucked between her legs – not literally, but you know. I’m on my way back now. Do you know how everyone else is doing?”

Crescent Rose roared.

Two faunus – a bull and a deer, both well endowed with horns and antlers respectively – crashed through the unfolding line of Atlesian androids as they rushed towards the train.

Ruby fired again, and Sunset fired too, Sol Invictus barking in high-pitched counterpoint to the heavier booming sound of Crescent Rose. Ruby scored at least one hit, hurling the deer faunus back and knocking him on his back for good measure; she fired again, and she was sure that she hit the bull faunus just as she had hit the deer, but unlike his comrade, the bull faunus was not hurled back; he didn't even seem to be slowed, he just kept on running towards the train.

Sunset frowned. "Ruby, hit him again if you can."

Once more, Ruby pulled the trigger. Once more, Crescent Rose barked out across the battlefield, and once more, the bull faunus continued his approach as though the shot had missed for all the effect it had on him.

"This guy's tough," Ruby muttered.

"This guy's got a semblance; you can see it when he gets hit," Sunset muttered. "It's like he's turning the air solid in front of himself; your bullet isn't quite landing."

"You can see that?"

"I can see your round isn't quite hitting," Sunset replied. She held Sol Invictus in one hand, and with the other hand, she fired a burst of green energy – of magic, although Ruby was still getting used to the idea of thinking of it that way – at the bull faunus as he charged. Now, Ruby could see it, the way that Sunset's magical pulse wasn't actually hitting the faunus; it was running into some invisible barrier just in front of him, so the reason he was carrying on as though he wasn't feeling it was because he really wasn't feeling it.

"What do we do?" Ruby asked.

"Shoot the other one before he gets here," Sunset said. "Once he arrives, we'll see if he can keep that barrier up in two directions."

Ruby returned her attention to the deer faunus, who had regained his feet and was running as quickly as he could to catch up with the comrade who had left him behind. Ruby fired twice more, but the first shot was parried by the deer faunus' staff, and the second, he swerved at the last possible second, and she missed.

And she was out of ammo.

Ruby ejected the magazine and pulled another out of one of the pouches at her waist. However, barely had she managed to reload than the bull faunus had made the leap from the ground beside the rail up onto the train. Ruby didn't fire as he descended, knowing – now – that it wouldn't make any difference; they would have to hope that he couldn't defend himself like that in two directions or that they could wear down his aura by making him overuse his semblance.

Their opponent landed heavily upon the roof of the railway car; he was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a proud pair of horns sprouting from either side of his head before curving inwards even as they extended up about a foot or more. His arms were armoured, and he held a spiked mace lightly in one hand.

He had landed with Sunset and Ruby both in front of him, maybe because Sunset was right after all.

Sunset fired Sol Invictus; the faunus seemed to grunt in satisfaction as the round was stopped by his invisible barrier. He certainly growled wordlessly as he began to charge torwards them.

Sunset teleported, disappearing with a crack and a bright green flash to appear behind their enemy; the second crack as she reappeared alerted the warrior of the White Fang to her movement because he turned, swinging his mace wildly for Sunset's head. Sunset ducked the swing of the mace but didn't manage to avoid the beefy fist that reached out to wrap tightly around her throat.

Ruby fired twice, and this time, the bullets of Crescent Rose slammed straight into her enemy's back, sending him staggering forwards. He threw Sunset away, tossing her off the edge of the train as he rounded on Ruby, snarling as he charged at her.

Ruby fired again, but this time, her enemy was protected by his semblance, and the rounds slammed harmlessly into his barrier.

Sunset teleported back onto the roof of the train, emptying all the chambers of Sol Invictus into the back of their enemy who seemed to ignore the shots as he rushed at Ruby with increasing speed, as if he were a locomotive – not just fighting on top of one – that starts off slow and builds and builds until it's flying.

As he rushed her, Ruby leapt, levelling Crescent Rose at the roof and hoping there was nothing explosive underneath. She fired, the recoil of her weapon carrying her up into the air out of her opponent's reach – and bringing her down again behind the bull faunus before he could finish his turn.

Ruby swiped with Crescent Rose in a wide arc, catching him in the side and sweeping him bodily off the train to send him flying through the air and, eventually, dump him on the ground.

He didn't seem to want to move much afterwards.

There was still the deer faunus to think about, but Ruby's eyes – and Sunset's too – glanced down the train to where Blake was all alone and having some difficulties.

"Sunset, go help Blake!" Ruby cried.

"What about you?" Sunset asked.

Ruby fired and knocked the deer faunus back a second time. "Don't worry," she said. "I've got this."

Blake paused on top of the railway car and watched for a moment as the White Fang – and Torchwick’s girl – broke through the line of the Atlesian droids attempting to bar their way. Twilight might or might not be directing them, but Blake couldn’t say that she’d noticed any real increase in how well they were performing. They’d gotten a few shots in, which was about the best that Rainbow Dash could have hoped for when she set them up like that.

Actually, no, Blake corrected herself as she saw two White Fang guys – she didn’t recognise them, but at this distance, they looked to be some sort of lizard-faunus – at the far right of the formation decide to take their time wrecking all the droids instead of breaking through and going for the train. That kind of stupidity was the best that they could have hoped for: it gave Pyrrha on the caboose ample time and opportunity to take them under fire while they were busy destroying mostly harmless robots, and for what? Yes, when the time came to bring in the main force to carry everything away, the robots would have to be dealt with, but that was the time to deal with the droids, not right now. Right now, nothing else mattered to the White Fang but getting to the train and neutralising the huntsmen defending it, because if they didn’t deal with Pyrrha now, then bringing in a whole load of aura-less chaff wasn’t going to help them at all.

If Blake had been leading the operation, she would have made that fact explicit to her troops before they started to move, even before they sent the Paladin down to stop the train. Either that, or she would have chosen an assault team that didn’t need to have this kind of thing spelled out to them. She wondered who was leading the attack and why they had chosen to use knuckleheads like that on their attack force. Walter, Perry, Cotton, and Skoll were all in custody, which left Gilda – possibly the flier that Rainbow had soared up to deal with, Blake hadn’t gotten a good look – or Billie or someone new, someone that Blake didn’t know.

It wasn’t Adam. Blake would have recognised him at once, and if he had been anywhere nearby, he would have been in the thick of the fighting; Adam would never ask any of his men to do what he was unwilling to do himself, which meant that he was some distance away from here. But why?

“Where are you?” Blake muttered under her breath.

Sun was close enough to hear her. “Where is who?”

“Adam,” Blake said. “He ought to be here. What could be more important to him or the White Fang than stealing a trainload of Atlesian weapons?”

“Yeah, but it’s a good thing we don’t have to deal with him, right?” Sun argued. “I mean, you know what they say about gift horses?”

“In Mistral, they say to beware of gift horses,” Blake replied.

“That’s… not exactly what I had in mind,” Sun said.

Blake turned towards the front of the train, where the Atlesian Onager on its four legs was clambering clumsily out of the front car to engage the Paladin that was halting the train. She could see Ciel and Penny not far away, looking very small compared to the bulk of the great robot, which planted its four feet on top of the roof of the train and combined the barrels of its guns together.

Not a bad choice; from the look of the armour on that Paladin, they would need a powerful shot to punch through it.

The cannon glowed blue as it began to charge.

A shower of missiles descended from above to strike the spider droid in an explosive shower.

Blake’s eyes looked upwards. A second Paladin, up on the ridge! As Blake watched, it began to follow up the salvo of missiles by opening up with the two cannons mounted on its arms. It hit the Onager in the exposed flank over and over again as it blasted the legs and the body of the hapless and helpless automated weapon.

They had a second Paladin? Blake gritted her teeth as she watched the Onager topple off the train before the Paladin finished it off with a final shot that blasted it into fragments. They’d brought a second Paladin here; why would they-?

Blake spotted the third Paladin descending the slope down from the ridge to back up the two clowns who had allowed Pyrrha to sharp-shoot them while they wasted time playing with robots and now – having realising the error of their ways – found themselves fighting the Invincible Girl at a considerable disadvantage.

This fight just got a lot more complicated.

Blake glanced at the next car over. Sunset and Ruby had already been engaged by a pair of White Fang warriors, one of whom had large horns and the other deer antlers. They didn’t look like they were struggling unduly, but it was equally clear that they couldn’t go to aid Pyrrha and Jaune against the Paladin descending upon them just yet either.

Rainbow had vanished into the sky, and at the other end of the train, Ciel was trying to follow her last instructions while Penny looked to be locked in combat with Neo.

There were only Blake and Sun left unengaged.

“Sun, you need to go help Jaune and Pyrrha,” she said.

“Me? But what about you?”

“Someone needs to stay here,” Blake replied. “If we leave this whole stretch of train unattended, then someone could get behind Ciel and Penny, and nobody would be close enough to respond.”

“Sunset said-”

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” Blake declared.

“And Pyrrha can’t?”

“That’s a state-of-the-art Atlesian war machine she’s fighting,” Blake cried. “She shouldn’t face it alone. Go!”

Sun hesitated for a moment, looking from Pyrrha and Jaune to Blake and then back again. “Okay,” he said, with obvious reluctance in his voice, “but you’d better be fine on your own, you hear?”

Blake smiled at him. “I’ll be fine,” she said, with a little more certainty in her voice than she actually felt.

“Well… okay,” Sun said, and he leapt down and began to clamber swiftly along the side of the train, passing beneath Sunset and Ruby and their struggle and making his way towards Pyrrha and Jaune at the very rear of the train.

Blake watched him go, watched him so intently that she didn’t notice-

“Traitor!”

Blake leapt away, her request unfinished as she just got clear of Billie’s downward stroke as she descended upon Blake like lightning from a clear sky. She landed heavily on the roof of the train, her longsword gripped between two hands. Hair so pale that it was almost white spilled out down her back, while her mask was decorated with a pair of goat’s horns jutting out of the forehead.

“Billie,” Blake said evenly as she reached slowly for the hilt of Gambol Shroud. “I might have known you’d be leading this operation.” After all, Adam’s not here, everyone else except Gilda is in prison, and I’m on the opposite side. There aren’t many other choices.

It also explained some of the failure of leadership that she’d observed on the right flank. Billie was a good follower, and she’d been in the White Fang longer than Gilda, but Adam had never rated her as a leader of men; she needed grip and direction, and left to her own devices, she was pretty ineffective. That didn’t matter much because Adam kept her close or else made sure she knew exactly what to do at any given moment, but it made clear to Blake why things hadn’t been done that had seemed obvious to her.

Billie’s lips curled into a sneer of disdain. “You won’t sneer at me after I’ve taken your head, traitor.”

Blake shifted her feet subtly and tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.

She heard someone else land behind her, and a moment later, she heard the voice of Strongheart, familiar to her even after all these months.

“That’s enough, Blake,” Strongheart commanded. “Hand away from your weapon.”

“I can’t do that,” Blake replied.

“I don’t want to shoot you,” Strongheart said, her voice trembling, and Blake found that she could imagine that rifle shaking a little in the hands of the young buffalo faunus, her animal ears emerging from out of a thick and tangled mass of brown hair. “When they told me that you’d betrayed the movement, I… I didn’t want to believe it. Tell me that it’s not true, tell me that you’ve been deep undercover with our enemies, tell me anything, any excuse at all, and I’ll believe it, but please, tell me something so that I don’t have to call you my enemy.”

Would it be so simple, to convince you? If Adam had said that, she would have laughed in his face, but somehow, when the words were coming out of a more… Blake would not say innocent, and naïve sounded unnecessarily unkind, but coming out of a mouth that had not become so foul to her, it did not elicit laughter. Would it be so easy? Walk away from Atlas, from Beacon, and go back?

Go back to a life she knew was wrong and, in so going back, betray Sunset, betray Sun, betray SAPR and RSPT, betray Rainbow Dash, betray everyone who had believed in her and fought for her?

Welcome home, Blake.

No, it wouldn’t be simple at all. For it would cost her very soul to do it.

“I can’t,” Blake repeated, because at this point, what else was there to say?

She heard a click, and in her mind’s eye, Blake could see Strongheart’s lever rifle. Seven shot repeater.

Strongheart behind her, Billie in front.

Let’s see if we can’t do something about that.

Blake leapt a moment before she heard the bang of Strongheart’s rifle; the shot did nothing more than destroy the clone that she had left in her place. She drew Gambol Shroud, and as she fell, she flung her hook, catching it around the edge of the metal bar that ran around the edge of the roof, and on the wire, she swung in an arc that carried her past Billie and upwards to land light upon her feet behind her.

Now both her enemies were in front of her.

Blake gripped her cleaver-like scabbard in her free hand as she switched Gambol Shroud back into its sword form.

Billie’s lips settled into a scowl as she flowed like water into a sword-stance, her long, two-handed blade held in a high guard for a downward stroke.

Blake charged for her, and she dashed forward to meet her. Blake parried with her scabbard and slashed across Billie’s midriff with her blade. Billie recoiled, slashing into a clone while the real Blake was behind her and driving Strongheart backwards with a series of furious strokes while she parried desperately with the stock of her rifle. Billie attacked from behind, and when Blake turned to face her, Strongheart shot her in the back, but once again, a clone dissipated into black mist before she dropped on Billie in a flurry of blows.

They were neither of them bad fighters; Billie’s sword strokes were precise, her stances were technically correct, and her footwork was sure and controlled. Strongheart’s shots were well aimed, and she reloaded her rifle every time she didn’t have a shot so that she wouldn’t suddenly run out of bullets. They were both decent fighters, and their eyes burned with hatred for her borne out of the betrayal that she had inflicted upon them. But Blake hadn’t risen high in the ranks of Adam’s forces simply because she was his girl, and Sienna Khan hadn’t kept her on in the White Fang simply to humiliate Blake’s father. She really was good, and they didn’t have an answer to her semblance, nor had either of them unlocked theirs-

Billie sidestepped, opening up a way for Strongheart to surge forward with an unexpected burst of speed; one moment, she was a distance away from Blake, and the next, she was body checking Blake hard enough that she was sent flying backwards, tumbling head over heels as she bounced off the roof of the railway car and onto the next car along.

Blake lay on her belly, her dark hair blew around her as she looked up to see Strongheart aiming down her lever rifle.

The buffalo faunus fired once, twice, three times, but each shot slammed into the green forcefield that appeared between Blake and the two White Fang fighters.

Sunset had her rifle slung across her shoulder and one hand raised up to maintain the shield. The other hand she offered to Blake. “What part of ‘nobody fights alone’ did nobody seem to get?”

Blake took the offered hand as she climbed to her feet. “I was doing fine,” she muttered. “Thanks.” She looked away from Sunset towards Strongheart. “You’ve unlocked your semblance.” It reminded her a little of Adam’s: a single swift forward charge, and if Strongheart lacked the ability to simply slice through aura with it, then at least she didn’t seem to need to endure attacks first.

“You’d have known that, if you had stuck around,” Strongheart growled.

“I had no choice,” Blake said.

“There’s always a choice,” Strongheart said, her lip curling into a sneer.

Blake hesitated for a moment. “You’re right. I did have a choice.” A choice between giving up my life or giving up my soul. “And I made the right one.”

Strongheart shook her head, her eyes shining with disbelief. She turned her gaze on Sunset. “And you, you’re a faunus too; how can you fight for the masters against your own people?”

“My people are named Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ruby,” Sunset replied. “And Blake.” She glanced at Blake out of the corner of her eye, and from the corner of her mouth, she whispered, “Dark Phoenix.”

And I thought coming up with team attacks with SAPR members was a waste of time. Not that we’ve had much time to practice, but with luck, it’ll work out. Blake tilted her head, a gesture so imperceptible that there was no way Strongheart or Billie could have noticed it.

Sunset dropped the shield. “We take them together-”

“No way, they’re mine!” Blake yelled impetuously as she leapt across the gap separating the railway cars, charging forwards towards Strongheart, her arms pounding as she ran.

Strongheart powered towards her – and burst through the clone which dissipated into black smoke as the real Blake appeared in front of Billie, swept the sword out of her hand with her first stroke, swept her legs out from under her with the first kick, sent her flying upwards with the second kick, and then leapt up after her to bring both sword and scabbard down upon his stomach with Blake’s final stroke to send him falling downwards to the carriage roof with a rippling crack of broken aura.

Strongheart stopped, she gasped in surprise, and then Sunset Shimmer teleported above and right in front of her and fell upon her like a lightning bolt. Sunset swung her rifle in reverse, gripping it by the barrel and whacking Strongheart across the head with the wooden stock hard enough to knock her clean off the train and down to the ground below.

Blake – satisfied that Billie was unconscious for now – transformed Gambol Shroud into pistol configuration and took aim at Strongheart as she ran for the cover of the trees. Her finger tightened slightly upon the trigger… but not enough to actually fire the pistol.

“Have you seen my dad?”

“Why do they hate us so much?”

“One day, I’ll be old enough to fight alongside you; I want to be just like you, Blake!”

Strongheart was the same age as Ruby, two years younger than Blake herself, but the gap seemed larger when it came to her old comrade, probably because she’d known Strongheart when she was a real kid, and Blake herself had thought herself so very grown up at the time when she’d been left to babysit the orphaned children of the camp while the real grown-ups went out to fight.

It was a hard thing to shoot somebody in the back when you’d once wiped their nose while you waited for the adults to come back from a raid; even harder when you didn’t know how much aura they had left and suspected that it probably wasn’t very much.

So hard, in fact, that Blake couldn’t do it. They might be enemies, but that didn’t mean she was just going to kill without mercy; if she started down that road, there would have been no point leaving the White Fang in the first place.

Sunset had fewer compunctions; she snapped off two shots as Strongheart fled for the woods.

“Stop!” Blake cried, but before she could say anything else, Strongheart had fired back and forced them both to dive for cover.

Sunset raised her head. “Lost her,” she said. She glanced at Blake. “What was that about?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“A kid who probably wouldn’t show you the same mercy.”

“So?” Blake asked. “We have to be better than they are, or we don’t deserve to win.” And besides, just because I want to stop the White Fang doesn’t mean I want to kill everyone who wears a mask.

I want to save them, all the ones who can be saved.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Why do I end up surrounded by so many heroes?”

“You decided to attend a school for heroes; what did you expect?” Blake asked.

“Shut up, you,” Sunset snapped. “The question was purely rhetorical.”

The corner of Blake’s lip twitched. “Thank you,” she said, “for backing me up.”

“What else was I going to do?”

Blake shrugged. “I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

“I don’t,” Sunset declared, very insistently. “I just… never mind, okay. You’re welcome.”

Their attention was drawn to the head of the train as the third and final Paladin, the one that had destroyed the Atlesian Onager from on top of the ridge, descended to join the battle.

Of the two lizard-faunus – that was the best Jaune could do as far as describing what they were, judging by the scaly skin on one and the reptilian tail on the other – the one with the scales had been apparently knocked out by Pyrrha, and the one with the tail was fleeing in terror even as the Paladin, bearing the White Fang marker on its shoulder in blood red, advanced upon the train to back him up.

The two fighters hadn’t stood a chance, certainly not once they decided to waste time and let Pyrrha get some shots off at them with pinpoint accuracy.

Although judging by the way that she’d dealt with them even once they tried to rush her, fending them off and carving up their aura with all the grace under pressure that he’d come to admire about her, they probably wouldn’t have stood a chance against Pyrrha regardless.

Anyway, it didn’t matter now. One was out of it, and the other was running away. What mattered now was the giant Atlesian war machine bearing down upon them.

It had slid rapidly down the slope, but now, it had done something to its feet and was advancing with a slower, heavier, and more clanking step. And with every step it took, making the earth shake with its mechanical tread, joints creaking and hydraulics hissing, Jaune felt his knees begin to shake a little more. This was a machine built for dealing death to monsters, designed by the kingdom at the cutting edge of military technology and armed with all the latest and most powerful weapons in the arsenal of Atlas. And he had a sword and shield. Pyrrha had a sword and shield. How was even she going to deal with this?

“So,” said Sun, who had apparently been sent by Blake to back them up, although with a bo-staff, he didn’t seem much better equipped to deal with this than they were, “does anybody have a plan?”

“Jaune, wait here with Sun,” Pyrrha said, and Jaune was surprised that her tone was so calm. Sure, Pyrrha was always calm in battle, but surely, this had to faze her just a little. “I’ll handle this.”

“Seriously?” he said. “By yourself.”

She smiled at him, if only a little. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I promise.”

She leapt down off the train, landing in a roll before standing up, back straight and proud, and walking slowly towards the Paladin as the Paladin walked towards her.

“I guess we’re staying here then,” Sun declared.

“It’s our lot in life,” Jaune sighed. “We probably should have expected it when we decided to get involved with awesome women.”

Sun grinned. “You talk a lot of sense sometimes, Jaune.”

The war walker loomed over Pyrrha, casting its shadow over her and killing the glimmer of sunlight off her gilded armour as the wind rustled through her long red ponytail.

The Paladin stopped, and Jaune could almost sense the surprise of the driver inside at the impertinence of a single huntress thinking that she could challenge his titan.

Pyrrha flowed into a guard, her shield held before her and her spear at the ready.

The two faced one another, the culmination of thousands of years of Mistralian chivalry and martial tradition squaring off against the highest pinnacle of technological innovation and advancement.

Jaune’s heart was in his mouth. He wanted to look away, but he could not. He wanted to scream in fear, but he could not. He wanted to cheer her on, but he could not. He couldn’t do anything. He was frozen in place, a still and silent observer of this clash.

He didn’t know whether to be afraid or expectant; he existed in a limbo between the two, torn between terror and confidence, between ‘you can do this’ and ‘please be okay,’ between cursing Pyrrha’s confidence and envying it as the thing that would carry her to the fulfilment of her destiny.

The Paladin took another step forward. The war machine fired twice, once from each of the great guns on the ends of its arms. Pyrrha’s left arm was surrounded by a black glow as she held out her hand. The heavy ordinance stopped, held suspended in the air for a moment, and then rebounded to hit the Paladin squarely in the armoured torso. Pyrrha began to dash forwards. The Paladin fired again, but once again, its shots rebounded, and this time, they struck the slender metallic legs that held it up.

The Paladin fired a third volley, and the missile racks mounted upon its blocky shoulders opened as a deluge of rockets leapt up, trailing fire behind them before they fell upon her.

Pyrrha!

Pyrrha threw her shield, striking first one shell and then the next, and her hand was still wreathed in a dark corona as she swept it widely out before her and, with a wave of her hand, sent all the myriad missiles that had a mere moment before been poised to fall on her with fiery fury and sent them flying back to whence they came. The Paladin reeled like a boxer on the receiving end of his opponent’s right hook, staggering backwards as missiles exploded all across its body: torso, arms, and legs alike.

Pyrrha ran with the speed of a lioness chasing her prey across the plains; she held out her hand, and her shield flew into it. She dived beneath the Paladin’s fists, and as she skidded along the ground beneath the metal titan, Miló transformed from spear to sword as she slashed at one of the metal legs.

Pyrrha stopped her skid. The Paladin swivelled its torso upon its waist, but Pyrrha was still in the shadow of the colossus and far too close for it to bring its weapons to bear. She charged and hacked again at the same leg that she struck before, bursting out from beneath the war walker as the leg that she had struck gave way and collapsed into twisted shards of metal. For a moment, the Paladin stood, unbalanced, upon one leg before with a shriek and a crash it toppled onto its side.

The Paladin had to use one fist to keep itself somewhat upright enough to use its other fist, aiming a punch straight at Pyrrha. Pyrrha thrust her shield like a weapon, using the edge of Akoúo̱ to strike the clenched metallic fist in return and shattering it like glass. Pyrrha dodged the shot that followed, not bothering to deflect it but letting it explode harmlessly behind her. She charged, slinging her shield behind her as she converted Miló back into spear form and gripped it tightly in two hands.

She thrust her great spear straight into the centre of the Paladin’s torso hard enough that it pierced the armour.

The Paladin flailed with what remained of its remaining arm, but Pyrrha had planted herself upon the Paladin itself, and it could not reach her there as she dragged her spear downwards, scoring a rent in the grey armour of the war machine as though it were a can of peaches. Then both of Pyrrha’s hands began to glow as she slowly spread them outwards until they were outstretched on either side of her, and as she spread her arms, so too did the armour of the Paladin spread out until the cockpit was completely exposed, revealing a cowering rabbit faunus with his hands raised in surrender.

Jaune was speechless. She… she’d done it. He didn’t know whether it was that he lacked faith in his partner, but he preferred to think of it as the Paladin having been just that intimidating to look at. But Pyrrha had taken care of it single-handedly, without so much as taking a hit.

She really was on another level, wasn’t she?

“Well, I think she’s good,” Sun said. “I’m going to go back and help Blake.”

“Sure,” Jaune said, without even looking at him. “I’ll be fine.” He still didn’t look at Sun, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other huntsman depart the same way that he had joined them.

Pyrrha turned to look back at him, the wind blowing through her hair and making her crimson sash wave in the breeze. She was smiling, but then her smile died as she began to race back towards him. “Jaune, look out!”

It was the first warning Jaune had that the scaly-skinned faunus who had seemed to be so out of it was not quite so out of it after all. He got up off the roof and came for Jaune with a shotgun-axe which probably would have looked really cool if it hadn’t been being used to try and take his head off.

The faunus growled wordlessly as he charged. Pyrrha was moving as fast as she could, but she was too far away.

This was something he would have to do himself.

This was something he could do himself.

The White Fang fighter’s stance and movements were awful. Jaune took a deep breath. You can do this. You can do this. Just remember what she taught you. Show her you’ve learnt something.

He put his front foot forward, he steadied himself, he thrust out his shield and turned the axe blow, beating the weapon away and leaving his opponent open. Jaune yelled as he brought his sword down in a slashing stroke. A slashing stroke that shattered his opponent's remaining aura like a hammer through glass and clove into his neck and collarbone.

Jaune’s eyes widened in shock and horror as he realised what he had just done.

A dead enemy hung on the end of his sword; it was a grotesque sight, like a puppet without strings or hands to animate it, lifeless eyes staring at him. He had done this. Him, and no one else. He had… he’d thought that he would… it hadn’t occurred to him that he might… what had he done?

Jaune cried out in shock as he lurched backwards, freeing his sword, his red sword as the faunus dropped to the carriage roof in front of him. Jaune kept on staggering back until he tripped over his own feet and landed on his backside. He had… he’d killed someone. He’d taken a life. This wasn’t a creature of grimm; this was a real life, a person with a soul, and he had…

What was he supposed to do now?

Pyrrha leapt up onto the roof. “Jaune, are you-?” She stopped, looking down at the… at the body.

She didn’t look at him, not at first. Jaune didn’t want her to look at him. He didn’t want to see revulsion in her eyes at what he’d done, but surely, that was what he would see when she turned her gaze upon him.

Pyrrha looked at him, and her soft green eyes were filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Jaune,” she said gently. “I should have… I’m sorry.”

“I… I didn’t…” Jaune stammered. “I didn’t realise…”

Pyrrha knelt before him, completely blocking his view of… of what he’d done. “It’s going to be alright,” she said. With one gloved hand, she gently brushed his cheek. “It’s going to be alright,” she repeated. “I promise.”

The green lights of Penny’s lasers flashed in the corner of Ciel’s eye as she tried to block it out. She trusted Penny. Whatever else might be said of her, when the battle started, she knew exactly what she was doing. As good as this brigand girl might be, Ciel had no doubt whatsoever of the eventual outcome.

What she saw of the ensuing battle, what parts of the struggle between the two of them forced their way into her vision, seemed to bear out Ciel’s judgement. The little robber girl was good, but there was just no way for her to get through the hedge of swords at Penny’s command, and the sheer volume of laser fire and blades at Penny’s command meant that her ability to dodge was failing her.

Which meant that Ciel could leave the situation safely in Penny’s capable robotic hands and concentrate on her own task: dealing with the Paladin.

Twilight had overriden the safeties on the train, which was even now beginning to roll slowly - but with ever increasing speed - forward once more. It would have rolled over the Paladin, had not the machine already begun to clamber up and onto the train itself like a toddler trying to get up onto the sofa.

It was Ciel’s task to get it off again.

The wind caused Ciel’s blue skirt to flap around her knees. Distant Thunder, her anti-materiel rifle, was fully extended in her hands. The magazine was full of lightning rounds. Ciel aimed down the sight at the titan that was slowing their engine down to a near stop. Even without the Onager – the third Paladin, the one up top, had stopped firing now, probably for fear of damaging the cargo they wished to steal – she could do this.

She would do this.

BANG!

Her first shot hit the Paladin on the shoulder, and lightning sparked across the armour plating as said shoulder recoiled backwards; blue and white sparks danced and snapped across the grey.

Ciel snapped the bolt back, expelling the spent cartridge and chambering a new round.

BANG!

The second shot hit the Paladin squarely in the cockpit; once more, the walker jerked backwards and shuddered as the lightning rippled across the steel skin. Ciel thought she could see its grip on the train weakening.

She snapped the bolt back, expelling the spent cartridge and chambering a new round.

BANG!

She hit the opposite shoulder.

Bolt back. New round.

BANG!

She hit the cockpit again, and it certainly looked as though the Paladin was struggling to hold on.

Bolt back. New round.

BANG!

Ciel’s shot hit the right arm this time, and it shattered into splintered fragments of metal. The Paladin reeled, its torso spinning as the momentum of the train pushed it on the side that was still holding onto the engine.

The Paladin’s missile racks opened up. Evidently, they decided that damage to the cargo was worth the risk at this point.

“Penny!” Ciel cried. “Switch.”

Distant Thunder folded up in her hands, becoming compact enough to swing across her back as Ciel drew a machine pistol from her waist. Penny leapt athletically behind her, landing with a grace that would have won her perfect tens from any panel of judges.

The brigand, now facing Ciel, looked torn between a renewed confidence and a sense of uncertainty.

Ciel’s expression didn’t alter as she opened fire. She wasn’t aiming to defeat the younger girl – although she looked notably tired after her battle with Penny – but merely to keep her occupied for a short while, and so, the fact that none of her short, three-round burst had any notable effect was not particularly troubling. They kept her adversary at bay.

The Paladin fired its missiles, two score of them leaping from the racks like arrows, rising swiftly into the air before turning to descend upon the Atlesian huntresses.

Laser beams leapt from Penny’s swords in swift succession, green bolts lancing up to strike the descending arrows, bursting them, covering the sky in the fiery flowers of their explosions which blossomed harmlessly over the heads of Ciel and her highwaywoman opponent.

“Switch!” Ciel called again, and once more, Penny leapt over Ciel’s head to resume her battle with the parasol-wielding girl while Ciel drew and unfolded Distant Thunder once more.

Draw back the bolt. Chamber a new round.

BANG!

She shattered the Paladin’s other arm. The train began to pick up speed as the Paladin, now armless and without any means to hold onto the train, became not so much an impediment as an obstacle to be overrun. The engine struck the Paladin, denting the torso as – judging by the squealing – the legs began to give way beneath it.

Ciel saw the White Fang pilot eject a moment before the remains of the Paladin were dragged beneath the train and ground to fragments under its irresistible and accelerating wheels.

That was at the same moment that Penny broke her opponent’s aura with a blow from two of her swords.

Ciel opened her mouth to speak, but all her words were stolen away by the shadow that fell over their heads as the last Paladin leapt off the slope and descended upon them.

The war machine landed heavily upon the roof of the train carriage, standing protectively over the prone and aura-less girl like a bear protecting the cubs from the eager hunters. Ciel started to aim Distant Thunder at the last Paladin, the last threat upon the battlefield, but she was blindsided by one of its giant fists which struck her in the side and flung her off the train and through the air.

Rainbow Dash caught her in both hands, barely stopping as she soared back towards the train. She grinned. “Hey.”

“Nice of you to join us,” Ciel said.

“Heroes always arrive in the nick of time, right?”

Ciel pursed her lips in mild disapproval as Rainbow carried her back to the train. She could see – they could both see – Penny standing in the shadow of the Paladin, lasers leaping from the tips of her swords to strike the armour of the war engine.

The Paladin drew back its fist, and the blow descended towards her.

Ruby Rose was between the two in a burst of crimson rose petals, turning the robotic punch aside and slashing furiously at the first with her scythe until she had severed all of its fingers. She landed on the roof. “Penny! Are you okay?!”

“Thanks to you, Ruby!”

The Paladin took a step backwards, balancing unsteadily upon the roof. The missile racks opened.

Sunset appeared above the Paladin’s head in a green flash, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes closed, looking as though she was lying in state even as the wind blew her hair in all directions.

She spread her arms, and fire dust like rain from the skies fell gently down towards the Paladin... and its open missile racks.

Sunset held out her hands, and the fire dust ignited.

The light of the fire dust’s burning was but the spark before all the missiles in the racks went up, blowing the back off the Paladin and setting what remained on fire. The smell of burning electronics and ignited dust filled the air as Rainbow set Ciel down upon the roof.

The Paladin shook, its torso swivelling left and right as though the pilot were trying to clear their head. It began to move.

A metal hand erupted out from underneath, bursting through the ceiling and grabbing the White Fang Paladin by the foot.

“Twilight?” Rainbow asked.

“You said I had to stay in the Paladin, but you never said the Paladin had to stay motionless,” Twilight said apologetically as a shot ripped through the roof to strike the stolen Paladin in the groin area.

Rainbow grinned. “Hold on just a little longer, Twi,” she said as the stolen Paladin tried to shake Twilight off. “Blake!”

“Understood,” Blake said as she threw her hook and wrapped it around the same leg that Twilight was holding onto.

Ciel watched as Rainbow swept Blake up in arms and carried her away. The two of them flew off the train, Blake’s silk ribbon growing taut as they circled before Rainbow turned in the air, the sunlight catching her wings as she soared back towards the Paladin, dipping under its thrashing arms and looping around the legs over and over again as the line wrapped around those same legs as the burning Paladin spun around in a vain effort to catch them.

Rainbow and Blake stopped, landing once more.

“Twilight, let go,” Rainbow commanded. “Ciel!”

“Ruby, finish it once she fires,” Sunset said.

Ciel chambered a new round. “Understood.”

BANG! Ciel’s shot hit the Paladin squarely in the cockpit. The Paladin leaned backwards as lightning rippled across the armour.

Ruby leapt forward, transforming into a whirling cyclone of rose petals as she hit the Paladin head on, squarely where Ciel’s shot had struck it, and the momentum of her speed was enough to topple the Paladin, its legs bound and unable to move, onto its back with a tremendous crash.

Ruby slashed at the fallen giant again and again and again until the Paladin simply fell apart, crumbling before their very eyes into its component parts which tumbled off the train to litter the forest floor on either side.

And there, standing amidst the wreckage, was none other than Roman Torchwick.

Roman Torchwick, who was immediately confronted with five guns and all of Penny’s laser-capable swords pointed into his face.

Torchwick laughed nervously as he raised his hands, his companion doing likewise as she got to her feet behind him. “Well… looks like you got us this time, kids. I suppose I’ll be enjoying the hospitality of Atlas for awhile.”

“Something like that, yeah,” Rainbow said.

Torchwick sighed. “I don’t suppose the prison food has gotten any better.” He looked at Ruby. “I suppose you think this makes you a big hero, Red.”

“Well, it kind of does,” Sunset said.

Torchwick chuckled as he shook his head. “You can arrest me, you can stop a couple of robberies, but one of these days, you kids are going to realise that you can’t stop what’s coming; none of you can, and all of you would-be heroes are going to find out what real power is, and you’re all going to pay the price that every wannabe hero in history has ever paid with the only currency that matters.” He shrugged. “Or maybe not. Maybe you kids are the real deal after all. I guess I’ve got a front-row seat to find out now, and you know something? I can’t wait to see what the answer is.”

A Chill in the Air (New)

A Chill in the Air

The first Bullhead lifted off the ground and turned its bulbous nose back towards the inviting lights of Vale.

The contractors who were working on this section of the outer wall were not getting paid enough to camp out at night on the very edge of what might be called the City of Vale, at a point at which the city itself had faded into a few farms and abandoned cottages, and so, every night, the airships came to pick them up and take them home to the safety of the city itself.

No such luck for the huntsmen and the soldiers protecting the workers, who were expected to camp out here at nights, something which occasioned no small amount of grumbling amidst the privates of the defence platoon.

Yang was much more sanguine about the whole thing. In fact, she kind of liked it out here. Sure, camping on the edge of civilisation was different from when she and Ruby had ‘camped out’ in the garden round the back of the cabin – with Dad sat out on the deck watching them in case any grimm showed up – but it wasn’t so bad. The food was okay, the company was good, and if they had to get their own firewood and keep watch, then so what? This was the life they’d signed up for, and if she hadn’t thought it was a decent life, then she wouldn’t have gone to Beacon in the first place.

If Ruby had been back at Beacon, then she would have missed her, but Ruby was off on a mission of her own right now, and so, it didn’t really matter where Yang was.

And so, Yang lay on her back, her head resting upon her pack like a pillow, and stared up at the night sky. The moon was a little way to the west tonight, and without the lights of Vale polluting the sky – and with no Atlesian air patrols over this particular region to get in the way – Yang was afforded one of the first uninterrupted views of the stars above that she’d had since, well, since leaving Patch really.

She’d missed them.

They were so beautiful up there, all those lights in the sky. It was really amazing how they could be so far away and yet shine so brightly that they could be seen all the way down here.

“They’re as bright as your eyes, Mommy!”

Yang’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. She hadn’t thought about that in a while. That was an old memory, from when Ruby had been so small that she’d been left back home in her cradle when Mom took Yang up onto a hill not far from home to show her the stars.

Back home in Patch, there were precious few lights, not enough to get in the way of the stars like there were in Vale, and so Yang and Mom had been able to see absolutely all of them.

Yang remembered sitting in her mother’s lap with a smile on her face while Mom had pointed out all the different shapes they made and told her their names and the stories behind them.

Right now, directly overhead, she could see the constellation Leucippides, the two sisters.

Can you see it too, Ruby? Are the same stars of the Two Sisters shining down on both of us?

Yang felt her smile broadening as she imagined it.

“That’s me on the right, you know,” Nora declared as she flopped down on the ground beside Yang.

Yang glanced at her. “What?”

“The stars!” Nora explained. “That’s what you were looking at, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, that’s me on the right,” Nora said, pointing up at the smaller of the two celestial figures who made up the constellation. “And that’s Ren.”

Yang smirked. “Oh, really? I knew that you two had gotten up to a lot of stuff before you made it to Beacon, but I didn’t realise that you were already so famous that they named stars after you.”

“Sure they did!” Nora cried. “It was after we saved Mistral from a horde of stormvermin gathering in the sewers underneath the city. I killed the apex alpha with one swing from my mighty hammer, and the people of Mistral were so grateful that they renamed the star signs in our honour.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! And they held a big public feast in our honour, and we got to ride in a chariot, and Pyrrha gave us these fancy crowns to wear, and do you know what she said to me?” Nora slipped into a passable impression of Pyrrha’s more cultured and cultivated tone. “’Oh, Nora, I can only dream of one day being as strong and brave as you.’ And then she kissed Ren on the cheek, and I yelled ‘stay away from my man, woman!’”

Yang couldn’t contain the sniggers that escaped her lips. Her whole body trembled with mirth. “I bet you showed her.”

“Oh, she backed off right away,” Nora assured her. “Not that Ren and I are, you know, we’re not together-together. I just… Ren deserves… I knew that Pyrrha was meant for someone else. Yeah! I was saving her for Jaune, because I’ve got premonitions!”

“Uh huh?”

“Uh huh,” Nora declared. “And with my powers of foresight, I can tell you that Ruby is going to be just fine.”

Yang chuckled. “You can see it with your third eye?”

“I can see it with my regular two eyes; that team is too good to be taken out by a few grimm in the Forever Fall,” Nora said. “I mean, they’re not us, but Team Sapphire is pretty darn special.”

“Yeah,” Yang replied, her voice softer than the breeze that stroked their cheeks. “Yeah, they certainly are.” She paused. “It makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Nora was silent for a moment. “Think what?”

“That we can be here, looking at the stars, and Ruby can be miles and miles away with the very same stars shining down on her from all the way up in the sky,” Yang said.

Once more, Nora took a moment to reply. “Yeah,” she agreed. “That is pretty amazing.” She turned her head to look at Yang. “So have you always liked them?”

“Huh?”

“The stars.”

“Oh, right,” Yang said. “Yeah, well, almost always, anyway. I… one of my earliest memories is my mom taking me out one night to watch the stars. Where we grew up, way out in the country with no cities and barely any towns to speak of, you could see them all as bright as… as bright as my mother’s eyes.” She sighed wistfully. “Unfortunately, that was before they got renamed after you and Ren.” Yang chuckled. “I was taught that those stars up there were two sisters.”

“Two sisters, huh?” Nora asked. “Two sisters named Yang and Ruby?”

“No!” Yang exclaimed. “But, well… I remember when I took Ruby out one night, up to the same hill where my mom had taken me, and I remember that the stars were as bright as Ruby’s eyes that night, when I told her all about the stars, and how they were two sisters, just like us. And I told her how they’d always be together, just like us.”

Nora made an affirmative noise. “Together. That’s the important part.”

“What do you mean?”

Nora’s tone was earnest, moreso than usual. “You can call them sisters if you want to, but the way I always saw it… you notice how one of them is bigger than the other.”

“Yeah,” Yang agreed. “She’s the older sister.”

“But Ren’s taller than me, too,” Nora said. “And it’s really hard to be sure that they’re both girls, what with them being stars and everything. My mom never took me up any hills to tell me all about them, but when Ren and I were on the road… a lot of the time, there wasn’t much to do but look at the sky – that and tell stories – and Ren told me the same thing: that those two would always be together. Just like us.”

Yang turned her head to regard her teammate silently for a moment. “You’re really lucky, you know that?”

Nora’s eyebrows rose. “You think luck had anything to do with me and Ren getting on the same team together? Girl, that was the result of planning and forethought. When it comes to Ren, I don’t trust luck.”

“I can believe that,” Yang murmured. A sigh escaped her. “Perhaps I should have planned ahead when it came to Ruby. Only…”

“Only what?”

Yang shuffled where she lay. “At the time, I thought that it might do Ruby good to get out of her shell, meet some new people.”

“Well, if it helps, I think she couldn’t have done better in the people she met,” Nora said.

“Oh, sure, I know,” Yang agreed. If Ruby had to be on a team without Yang, at least she was on a team with the kindest, most caring people in Beacon – and Sunset Shimmer. “But still…”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Come on! Who can you tell if not your best friend?”

“Nobody,” Yang admitted. “But… it really doesn’t matter okay?” Nora might be her best friend, but that didn’t mean that Yang was ready to tell her about Raven yet. “It’s probab-… it’s nothing.”

“Well, okay,” Nora said. “If you say so.”

"Yang," Ren's voice, raised higher than his usual soft volume, carried across the night even as Ren himself crossed the open ground briskly towards the two girls. "Mister Danvers should have been back by now."

Yang sat up. Jett Danvers was the professional huntsman whom Team YRDN were shadowing on this mission; only, he hadn't seemed particularly keen on the whole 'shadowing' aspect of the deal. It wasn't so bad, for the most part, since they were just there to stand guard, and they could easily do that alongside him, but when he had gone out scouting, he had refused to take any of the young huntsmen along with him, claiming that they'd only slow him down.

Only Ren was right; he was slow enough already. He should have been back by now. It had been – Yang checked her scroll – more than two hours; how much scouting did he feel the need to do?

Yang scrambled to her feet. On the plus side, they had heard no gunshots, nor the roaring and howling of any grimm, and it was unlikely that he could or would have gone so far that they wouldn't have heard any of those things if he'd gotten into trouble. On the other hand, however, the fact remained that he should have been back by now, and he wasn't. And it wasn't as though the grimm were the only dangers lying in wait in the dark. He might have fallen and hit his head for all they knew.

"Have you tried calling his scroll?" she asked.

"He didn't answer."

"And you didn't hear anything?"

Ren shook his head. Not that that meant a great deal; one of the pieces of advice that he had given them was to put their scrolls on silent, lest they be given away when they least wanted to be.

Yang's brow furrowed a little as she walked – with Ren and Nora following behind her – across the grass in front of the wall in Dove's direction. As she walked, Yang and her companions passed beside the campfires of the soldiers as they sat around said fires in groups of five or six, brewing tea or cooking desiccated rations. Most of them were about her age or not much older, boys and girls in green jackets with red facings on their cuffs; her age, but much less well trained. Maybe a couple of them were combat school dropouts or people who had failed to get into Beacon, but for the most part, they didn't even have their auras unlocked, who had joined the Defence Force less because they wanted to protect humanity than because they thought the army would teach them a skill.

That would probably sound a little judgemental if I said it out loud. But it wasn't meant to; it was just a fact: she had the skills, and so did her team; they… didn't.

To be honest, she felt the same way about the Atlas military; why did they need so many ordinary soldiers when they had huntsmen?

Yang's thoughts were drawn away from that as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lieutenant Whittard put aside the book he had been reading and get to his feet, weaving his way through his men to intercept Yang on her journey.

The commanding officer of the Valish platoon was no older than the bulk of the men he commanded and only a couple of years older than Yang at most; he was thin and a little pinched in the face, with a pair of round spectacles resting on top of a thin nose. "Miss Xiao Long," he said, his tone oddly deferential for someone older than she was, "is anything amiss?"

Yang smiled reassuringly. "No, El-Tee, nothing's wrong. We're all good here, aren't we?"

Lieutenant Whittard frowned. "Sergeant Trent tells me that our huntsman has been away too long," he murmured.

Yang glanced briefly at Sergeant Trent, the only man in the platoon who looked over the age of twenty-five, let alone thirty. "It… has been a while," she admitted, "but I'm not that worried. We're talking about a real huntsman here, after all. And we haven't heard anything that suggests he got into trouble."

"Are you sure?" Lieutenant Whittard asked. "I don't need to be reassured there are no monsters under the bed, Miss Xiao Long; I need to know the truth."

Yang snorted. "Sorry. Natural big sister habit, I guess. The truth is… I don't know where Danvers went, but I'm going to take my partner and go see if we can find him but leave Ren and Nora here with you, okay?"

Lieutenant Whittard nodded carefully. "And if… if you don't come back either?"

"Then call for Bullheads," Yang told him. "Because if we don't come back either, then it means there's something out there."

Lieutenant Whittard paled visibly, which was quite a feat considering how whey-faced he was ordinarily. "I… I see," he murmured. "Good luck, Miss Xiao Long."

"Thanks a bunch, Lieutenant," Yang replied affably before she left him behind and covered the rest of the distance separating her from Dove. The fourth member of her team was standing sentinel, his back to the incomplete wall and the platoon of soldiers, his sword gripped lightly in one hand.

"Do you see anything?" Yang asked, as she came to stand alongside him.

Dove's blue eyes glanced towards her. "I haven't seen any grimm… but I haven't seen Mister Danvers either," he said.

Yang sighed. "You and me are going to take a look around. Ren, Nora, stay here and guard the soldiers."

"There's something rather absurd-sounding about that statement, don't you think?" Dove muttered.

"You know what I mean," Yang replied. "Ren, if we don't come back-"

"Don't talk like that," Nora said sharply, cutting her off. "Come back, okay? You've got so much to come back to."

"I mean to try," Yang assured her. But I bet Mom meant to try and come back, too. "But if we don't, call Professor Ozpin. Or Professor Goodwitch. Call somebody." And tell Ruby that I'll always be with her. Not that she said that out loud; it would have been too gloomy for words, and she'd regret the melodrama of it once they found Jett Danvers and it turned out that he'd just fallen down a hole and broken his leg or something.

Ren nodded. "Of course," he said, his tone clipped.

"Thanks," Yang said. "You ready, Dove?"

"I think so," Dove replied.

"Okay then," Yang said. "Let's-"

She was interrupted by the sound of a dry twig snapping underfoot, somewhere in the darkness beyond the reach of the light of their fires.

Yang assumed a boxing stance, her Ember Celica snapping back to expose the guns concealed within the vambraces; Dove raised his sword; Nora pulled Magnhild over her shoulder and unfurled it; Ren's StormFlowers appeared in his hands.

The four members of Team YRDN spread out a little, presenting a less inviting target than the four of them clumped together in a single mass.

Of course, they didn't know that it was anything bad out there, but better to be safe than sorry.

Even if it was alarming the soldiers a little bit, judging by the way that heads had turned towards them. Some of the young men and women snatched up their rifles. Lieutenant Whittard had one hand on his holstered pistol as he began to gingerly step forward, the burly figure of Sergeant Trent keeping pace beside him.

"Hello?" Yang called into the dark. If you're not a grimm, now would be a good time to say so.

A figure shambled out of the darkness and into the light; Yang breathed a sigh of relief: it was Jett Danvers, their professional huntsman. "Hey," she shouted. "What took you so long? We were getting worried back here."

Jett ignored her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair descending to just beneath his ears, dressed in a dark parka and jeans. He carried a billhook, the weapon resting lightly on his shoulder as he gripped the shaft in one hand.

His head was bowed a little as he walked with an unsteady, almost stumbling gait. He ignored the young huntsmen completely and walked towards Lieutenant Whittard and Sergeant Trent.

Lieutenant Whittard laughed. "Mister Danvers," he said, "you gave us all quite a scare there for a moment."

Jett did not reply. He walked closer, head down covering the distance between the two men, and then he swung his billhook and drove the hook into Lieutenant Whittard's head.

Yang's eyes widened in horror as the young officer, his head so suddenly misshapen and his face frozen in a look of stunned surprise, collapsed to the ground. Sergeant Trent cursed but had only started to raise his rifle when Jett drove the billhook point-first through his throat.

"Run!" Yang shouted at the soldiers, her voice rising above the panicked hubbub that was beginning to rise from their throats as they saw their leaders fall to the weapon of an ally. "Get back!"

They didn't need to be told twice. The soldiers began to scramble up, fleeing from their fires, running towards Vale, running away from a huntsman who outclassed them in every respect.

This was not a fight that they could win.

But it is a fight that we can win.

Yang launched herself forward, firing Ember Celica behind her for thrust like a pair of rockets strapped to her hands. She flew above the ground, the tips of her boots scraping the blades of grass beneath her as she threw herself bodily between the huntsman and the hapless soldiers he would make his prey.

"What are you doing?" Yang demanded as she faced the man she was supposed to learn from.

Jett's eyes were black and pitiless, and he said nothing at all as he brought his billhook down upon her head.

Yang stepped forward, catching the wooden shaft upon her wrists. She could feel the pressure of Jett's strength as he pressed down against her, yet somehow, it seemed less than she would have expected of a seasoned huntsman. "Why?" Yang demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

Jett stared at her, and wordlessly, he released his grip upon the billhook and began to reach out for Yang.

Yang felt someone collide into her from the side, someone who turned out to be Dove, who had barged into her from the shoulder and, in the process, knocked her to the ground – he too went sprawling a moment later as the momentum of his rush carried him over her in a stumbling fall. They lay on the ground, their legs tangled up.

Jett's face was blank as he reached out for them.

Dove roared in anger as he slashed at Jett's outstretched hand, slicing off his fingers with his sword. Jett drew back but did not cry out in pain. He just stared blankly at the stumps of his fingers.

"Huh?" Yang said. "But his aura-"

"It's not a huntsman," Dove declared. "It's a Chill; we have to get back."

"Oh, gods," Yang whispered under her breath as she and Dove both scrambled upright and retreated from what had been Jett Danvers.

Professor Port didn't need to cover Chills in his Grimm Studies class, and not only because Doctor Oobleck was covering them in legends; nobody came to that class unaware of the story of Poppy and Oak, of the grimm that had no body but could steal any body it wished, even one that was protected by aura. If it had laid a hand on Yang, then she would have perished in an instant, and her body would have become the new plaything of the Chill.

"We have to kill it," Yang said. She raised her fists. It wouldn't be that hard, so long as they kept their distance. It was possessing a human body, but it didn't have a human aura. So long as they didn't let it touch them. So long as… so long as she couldn't notice the human face, the body of the man who had once been a protector of the world.

Her hands and arms trembled. Ember Celica did not fire. Nor did Dove's gunblade, for that matter, which was shaking more than Yang's arms. Dove, the loveable dumbass, put himself between Yang and Jett as though it were better for him to be taken out than her, but he didn't shoot, and judging by the tremors, Yang wasn't sure if he had it in him to use the bloody blade again.

Mind, it would be hypocritical of me to blame him for that.

Nora had switched Magnhild into grenade launcher mode, but it too was silent and showed no sign of speaking soon. Nora's eyes were wide, and Yang could understand why; this was the strength of a Chill: they hoped that nobody would be able to shoot someone wearing a face they knew.

But someone was.

"Hey!" Ren shouted, drawing Jett's attention as he dashed forward.

Jett turned slowly towards him.

Ren raised his guns and fired. He continued to charge, StormFlowers spitting, green flashes bursting from the muzzles and as he fired, and charged, the body of Jett Danvers twitched and spasmed and swayed in place as red spots sprouted all over his torso, the parka jacket withering under the fire, the bullets tearing into the aura-less body.

The billhook dropped from Jett's hand.

Ren emptied the last rounds in his StormFlowers as he closed the distance between himself and Jett. He stopped, spinning in place, and with the blades that hung beneath his pistols, he sliced off Jett's head. Still spinning, Ren tossed one of his StormFlowers up into the air and thrust out his palm towards the trunk of the man who had been Jett. Ren's aura pulsed, and the body was silently flung backwards into the darkness and out of sight.

Ren caught his pistol before it hit the ground. He was turned away from Yang. His head was bowed, in a way that made Yang afraid for a moment that the Chill had transferred to him. But it was not so; she could see it was not so when he looked at her, and she could see Lie Ren in those eyes, though it was a side of Ren that she had never seen before.

Nor was she certain that she wished to see it again.

"That wasn't a man," he said, his voice trembling. "It was once, but not anymore. It deserved no mercy."

Who are you trying to convince, Ren? Me or you?

Ren didn't wait for a response from Yang. He turned away and walked off a few metres, moving with a weary tread as though his frenetic burst of activity a moment ago had exhausted him. He stood facing the darkness, silent, almost expectant, although what he was expecting, Yang could not have said.

"That…" Dove murmured. "That was…"

"He saved our lives," Yang replied.

"I know," Dove admitted. "But all the same."

All the same, it's scary to think that I don't really know him at all.

"Call Beacon," she instructed Dove. "Tell them… tell them everything."

"Of course," Dove murmured. He knelt and wiped the blood from his sword upon the grass before thrusting it into his belt as he turned away and reached for his scroll.

Yang began to walk towards Ren.

"Don't," Nora said, her voice quiet and soft as she interposed herself between the two of them. "Ren… give him some space, okay?"

Yang looked over Nora's head at Ren, who had not moved. "Are you sure space is what he needs?"

"I try every day to give Ren what he needs," Nora replied. "But sometimes, I have to settle for giving him what he wants."

"Which is space?"

Nora nodded, although her expression was so melancholy, it was clear that she didn't like it one bit. Yang didn't much care for it either, but Nora knew him best.

Nora turned around, and together, the two of them watched as Ren stood, as still as any statue.

"Sometimes," Nora whispered, "I feel as though there's a wall like glass between us, and it lets me hear him and see him… but never touch him."

Yang glanced up at the stars which continued to shine above them all. "Are you sure that you shouldn't go to him? Together always, right?"

Nora looked around at Yang, her expression hesitant. Yang nodded in silent encouragement, and after a brief second more of hesitation, Nora approached Ren. He looked down at her, but when she didn't say anything to him, he didn't say anything to her either. Ren looked away, but he didn't move away; he allowed Nora to continue to stand beside him as the moonlight fell upon them both, bathing them in silvery light.

I don't know where you are right now, Ruby, but I hope your mission is going better than ours.

The howl of a beowolf split the night air.

Me and my big mouth.

“The fear!” Nora cried. “It’s attracted more grimm.”

Yang bared her teeth. What was that you said about spinning straw into gold, Professor Goodwitch? Well, I guess the wheel’s in front of me now. Now, what were those five points of a speech you talked about in Leadership? Oh, yeah, right. “Okay, listen up!” she shouted, as more beowolf howls echoed through the darkness. “We don’t have much time, and I’m not much for speeches, so it’s a good thing that you guys don’t need me to talk you into bravery.

“The grimm are coming. I don’t know how many there are. It could be half a dozen, or it could be a horde, but they’re coming with teeth and claws, and they’re going to give us a fight, and it could be a tough one.

“If we run, if we die, if we don’t hold this position, then there’s nothing to stop the grimm until they reach the Red Line, and all the farms and cottages behind us will be vulnerable to these monsters. But if we win, if we fight hard and kill them all, then all of those people will be safe. They’re counting on us, and we’re not going to let them down.

“We’ve trained for this. We’ve studied for this. We were chosen for this.” Yang turned around and gestured to the wall behind them; the Green Line was a hodge-podge of half-completed defences for which there had not been enough money or resources at the time of its initial laying-down, but this section, the repairs of which Team YRDN had worked on, was a fully-fledged wall of red brick, stout enough for modest field guns to be mounted atop it and for men to fight from it if there had been men. There was only one problem: it wasn’t finished; there was an unconstructed gap which the contractors had been labouring to close up, but it was still a dozen feet wide. “They’re going to go through that gap,” Yang declared. “It’s quicker than going over the wall, but that gap is going to be where we stop them. Dove, you’re with me in the breach. Ren, get up on the wall and shoot down on them as they come. Nora, you’re our reserve; stay behind us and mop up any that get past us.”

Nora saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This might not be easy,” Yang admitted, “but we can do this. Beacon and Vale have trusted us with this. Let’s earn that trust.”

Dove, his face a little pale, nevertheless nodded in acknowledgement of her words. Nora was already grinning in anticipation. Only Ren failed to acknowledge her or what she’d said; he remained facing out into the darkness as the howling of the grimm got closer and closer.

“Ren?” Yang asked.

He turned around. His face was stern-set, but his voice was soft as he said, “I won’t let anyone else die.”

Yang forced a smile onto her face. “That’s the spirit.”

They retreated towards the bottleneck of sorts formed by the incomplete wall. With a single bound, Ren leapt high enough to reach the rampart, and as he took his position there, Yang could only think what a pity it was that there weren’t any heavier guns emplaced up there that he could use. Nora retreated about twenty or thirty feet back behind the front line, Magnhild still held in grenade launcher mode.

Yang and Dove stood between the two sections of the wall, hearing the howling grimm come on.

Dove bent his knees, holding his sword before him in a low guard. “Yang,” he said softly, “when… when you were growing up, when you were a kid, were there a lot of other children around? Did you have a lot of friends?”

You’re asking me this now? “Uh, no,” Yang replied, wondering if Dove just wanted to distract himself. “We lived kind of out of the way, on our own. It was just me and Ruby.”

Dove nodded. “There were a lot of kids in our village,” he told her, “and in our village, there was this rise just outside my grandfather’s house, and it wasn’t much, but when we were kids, it seemed like a hill, and it had a rock sticking out of it. And we used to play a game: someone would stand on top of the rock, and anyone who wanted to could try and shove you off it and down the hill, and the winner would get to shout ‘I’m king of the hill!’”

Yang grinned. “Sounds fun.”

“It was,” Dove agreed. “Nobody could shove me off that hill. Not anybody.” He took a deep breath, and then another. “King of the Hill,” he muttered. “King of the Hill. Dove Bronzewing is King of the Hill!”

The grimm burst upon them, beowolves emerging out of the darkness with eyes gleaming red and their masks and fangs alike a shining white under the moon and stars. Ren’s StormFlowers cracked as he fired, both barrels blazing from atop the wall as he unleashed his bullets into the onrushing demons, and over Yang’s head flew grenades with pink smoke trailing after them as Nora fired over their heads to thin the monstrous ranks. But still, they came, though they died to Nora’s grenades and – fewer – died to Ren’s StormFlower rounds, yet they came, growling and snarling.

They came for the gap in the wall. They came for Yang and Dove. Their formation narrowed as they drew closer, becoming a clump as they fought to get ahead of one another, the first to reach the fight.

The first to die. Yang’s Ember Celica roared as she threw shadow punches which fired her gauntlets, and beside her, Dove’s gunblade barked as he shot all the rounds he had into the black and bone-faced mass of death.

And then Dove was out of shots and Yang was out of time as the grimm reached them.

They couldn’t move. That would have left Nora out behind facing all the fury of the grimm, not to mention defeated the point of making their stand between the walls like this. They had to stand fast, they had to make their bodies the wall and go toe to toe against the mass of teeth and claws that lunged for them, maws open.

It wasn’t Yang’s kind of fighting; she might have been trained to punch, but she was also trained to move, to weave and jab, and all of that was denied to her here. All she could do to hold the line was stand and take it, let her semblance consume the damage and turn it into even stronger punches with which she disintegrated the grimm who hurled themselves at her.

They came. She punched. They threw themselves at her, and she killed them. She tried not to let any of them get past her. Their claws reached for her, they fueled her semblance, but they also drained her aura. As Yang punched harder and harder, she could also feel the shield of soul that protected her getting thinner and thinner, and still, she held the line.

Until there were no more grimm left and only the dark of the night before them.

Yang drew in deep breaths and exhaled just as briefly. “Hey, Dove, are you okay?” She glanced at him, and her eyes – returning to their usual lilac colour – widened at the sight of a trio of scratches – still bleeding slightly – on his cheek. “Dove?”

“I’m fine,” Dove assured her, waving her concern away. “It’s fine.”

“Did your aura break?” Yang demanded.

“Just a little bit,” Dove said, although she could see there were scores upon his armour, too.

“'A little bit'!” Yang repeated. “You should have-”

“Left you to fight by yourself?” Dove finished questioningly. He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

Yang snorted. “Ruby will always be the bravest person I know… but you might just be the second, you know that?”

Dove smiled. “From what I know of Ruby, I’m flattered.”

“And I’m worried,” Yang said. “Too much courage could get you hurt.”

“And it might spare someone else,” Dove said. “I’m fine, really. Still king of the hill.”

“King of the hill? King of the wall.”

“King and queen of the wall,” Dove corrected.

Yang chuckled. “I like the sound of that,” she said as a Bullhead roared overhead and descended with an engine whine and a gust of wind right in front of them.

The doors opened, revealing Professor Goodwitch within.

“Mister Bronzewing,” she said, an unusual touch of alarm entering her stern voice. “You seem to be injured.”

“It’s just a scratch, Professor.”

“Have it checked out when we return to Beacon,” Professor Goodwitch instructed him. “You seem to have had an eventful evening, Miss Xiao Long.”

Yang laughed. “You could say that, Professor. Dove should get that looked at, but I don’t know about the rest of us coming back to Beacon. The mission isn’t finished yet.”

Professor Goodwitch stared at her for a moment, and for a moment, Yang thought she saw a glint of approval in the combat instructor’s eyes.

“As you wish, Miss Xiao Long.”

Good Man (Rewritten)

Good Man

“Blake,” Sunset said as she stepped into carriage number two, one of the two cars filled with Atlesian Paladins but which, unlike car one, still had its roof intact. “You’ve heard that we won’t be getting an airlift out of here?” A pick-up for them and their prisoners was judged non-critical, apparently, given that they were perfectly capable of riding the train all the way back to Vale. Apparently, there were a lot of demands upon Atlas’ airships at the moment.

“Yes,” Blake murmured. “Twilight told me.”

“Right,” Sunset muttered. “Of course she did.” Now, how to get from there to what I actually want to talk to you about. “So… um…” She leaned against the leg of one of the towering war machines. “Listen… I need a word.”

Blake was sitting on the foot of a Paladin, hunching her body slightly in the process in a way that made her feel small. She was reading a book with a dark cover and a title in a gothic font; she closed it, slowly and deliberately, but kept the page marked with her thumb. Blake looked up at Sunset with a certain wariness, as though she could guess what Sunset wanted to talk to her about before the latter had even opened her mouth. “How’s Jaune doing?”

Sunset frowned. Her mouth twisted. “He… he’s taking it hard.”

“I’m not surprised,” Blake said, softly and not without consideration. “It’s hard for anyone but especially…”

“What?” Sunset asked.

“Especially a good kid like him,” Blake finished. “Some people… some people can deal with it better than others. Jaune… he’s a good kid. Not the kind who can shrug it off.”

Sunset mumbled something wordless and indistinct. That had been both what she had been afraid of, but at the same time, nothing other than what she had both expected and observed from the funk into which Jaune had descended since the battle. “Pyrrha and Ruby are with him, but… as much as they both want to help him, I don’t know how much they can really do; after all, they’ve never…” She let that sentence trail off. Sunset licked her lips. “I was hoping that you might talk to him.”

The gaze of Blake’s golden eyes seemed to sharpen and grow claws. “You want me to talk to him.”

“That’s right,” Sunset said. She shuffled uncomfortably. This had seemed a much better idea in her head than when she was standing right in front of Blake, but really, what other choice was there? Who else could she go to right now? Who else did she know who would be able to relate to what Jaune was going through? Pyrrha and Ruby couldn’t, and Sunset was willing to admit that she couldn’t either, as much as she might mean to one day. “I mean, you have…” The words ‘you have killed before’ hung unspoken but omnipresent in the railway carriage as it clattered down the line.

“Yes,” Blake said archly. “I have killed before. Would you like Jaune and I to compare methods?”

“You know what I want,” Sunset said, a little more harshly than she had originally intended. She rubbed the space between her brows. “I’m sorry, but… you must know better than anyone else how to reach him, how to help him… you must remember how you dealt with it.”

Blake laughed bitterly. Her ears drooped, and she drew her legs up closer to her chin. “'Dealt with it'? I dealt with it by being told lies by the people that I trusted, and I convinced myself those lies were true. And then, when Strongheart took her first life on a raid, I told her those same lies so that she could get to sleep that night, so you’ll forgive me if I’m not particularly eager to lie to someone else.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Strongheart… the buffalo girl? The one we fought?”

Blake nodded. “The one we fought.”

“Younger than you?”

Blake nodded again, forlornly. “She’s only Ruby’s age.”

“The White Fang take them that young?” Sunset asked in genuine surprise.

“Why not?” Blake replied in a tone of weary melancholy. “Apparently, the huntsman academies do.”

Sunset snorted, “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” Blake asked. “They’re both the same age, and they were both at the same risk of death today.”

Sunset cringed. Blake… Blake had more of a point than Sunset would have liked. What could she say? That she would have protected Ruby? She hadn’t in the past. That Ruby was a better fighter than that faunus girl? Certainly true, but once you started haggling over the particulars, you’d essentially lost the main argument.

“But she did sleep, didn’t she?” Sunset said.

“Huh?”

“Even though it was a lie,” Sunset said. “She got to sleep. Blake… I’m worried that if Jaune can’t find some way to square what he did, it’s going to eat away at him. I don’t know what to say to help him do that.” I don’t have the empathy, for one thing. Somehow, I don’t think that telling Jaune that I don’t give a damn about some random stranger and he shouldn’t either would be a big help. “And I don’t think Pyrrha or Ruby know either.”

“It’s not that simple,” Blake muttered. “There’s nothing anyone can say to just make this better. It’s something that he’ll have to live with. The same way you’ll probably all have to live with it eventually. Even if you become a huntress to fight grimm, the chances are that you’ll have to fight people eventually. And if you fight people… eventually, you’ll have to kill people.”

“I thought as much,” Sunset said. Her expression softened. “I hope… I hope you know me well enough to believe me when I say I don’t ask this lightly. Is there nothing you can say to help him out? Not even a little?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know,” she said, as the shadows of the Paladins fell heavily upon them. “I honestly don’t know. But… I can try.” She got to her feet.

“Thank you,” Sunset said. “Whatever happens, I’ll appreciate that you tried.”

Blake nodded absently. “Take me to him. We… we’d better get this done, one way or the other.”

Jaune sat on a crate marked with the snowflake of the Schnee Dust Company. He slumped down, his back bent, his head bowed. He barely noticed the way that the railway car shook as it tore down the rails back to Vale, except to dread what would happen when they finally got there.

He barely noticed either Ruby or Pyrrha on either side of him, though Ruby was resting against his left side and Pyrrha had one hand upon his right shoulder. He barely registered either of them.

He could see his face. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, those lifeless eyes staring at him, accusing him. The face of the man he had killed.

Closing his eyes, opening his eyes, he couldn’t be free of it. No more than he could be free of what he’d done. He’d taken a life, an actual human life. Not a grimm, not a soulless monster, but a person just like him.

Just like him. He couldn’t stop imagining just how like him that guy might have been, the guy whose life he had snuffed out. Had he joined the White Fang because he wanted to show his family that he could amount to something? Did he have seven annoying older sisters whom he loved to pieces waiting for him at home? Did he have – did he used to have – impossible dreams? Did he have friends who would have tried to comfort him if things had been reversed and he had killed Jaune instead of… instead of the other way around?

“I’m so sorry, Jaune,” Pyrrha said.

That got through to him, the words penetrating into his mind even, befuddled and fogged up as it was by the memory of that face. He looked up into Pyrrha’s face, into her green eyes filled with sorrow. “You…you’re sorry? Pyrrha… you don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“I left you alone,” Pyrrha said. “I strayed too far when I fought that Paladin. If I’d been there-”

“Then you would have killed him,” Jaune said. If he, Jaune Arc, had managed to… to do it in one hit, then the guy’s aura must have been very low when he got up for that last rush. There was no way that one of Pyrrha’s blows wouldn’t have done as much, been as well-aimed, as powerful. Probably moreso in every respect. He couldn’t believe that the guy would be any more alive if Pyrrha had been there.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, and still, before she nodded her head. “Probably,” she said softly.

“But then-”

“I wish that I could take this weight away from you, Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “I’m sorry.”

Jaune shook his head. “I… I wouldn’t wish this on you. I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

Ruby wrapped her hands around his arm. “It’ll be okay, Jaune. You’ll get through this.”

“Will I?” Jaune asked. “I don’t… I don’t feel like I will. I can see him, everywhere. There’s no getting away from him. There’s no getting away from what I did.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Pyrrha said firmly. “When two warriors fight, there is always the chance that one may fall. Your opponent took that chance and paid the price-”

“But did he know that?” Jaune asked. “I mean, isn’t that why we have aura, so that we don’t die when we’re fighting? What was he even doing fighting with so little aura left anyway?”

“Perhaps he didn’t realise, perhaps he was overconfident, perhaps he simply miscalculated,” Pyrrha speculated. “My mother was left with a permanent injury to her leg after one hit too many broke through her aura and kept going, and that was in a tournament. These things can happen, even in the most controlled environment, and in the chaos of the battlefield… you had no way of knowing. You did nothing wrong.”

“That doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” Jaune asked. “He’s still dead, and I have to live with that.”

“Yes,” Blake said as she strode in through the doorway, followed by Sunset, who closed the door behind her and muted the sounds of the outside which had briefly risen as the air got in. Blake looked down at him, her eyes, her face alike inscrutable, before she sat down on an SDC crate opposite his own.

“Yes,” she repeated, as she leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees. “You will have to live with it. All your days.”

“Blake-” Ruby began.

“It’s the truth,” Blake said, though she didn’t take her eyes off Jaune. “I’m sorry, Ruby, but that’s how it is. It might not be what you want to hear, it certainly isn’t something nice to hear… but it’s the truth.” She paused. “And I won’t lie, not about this.”

Jaune stared at her, his eyes into hers as she stared right back at him. Nobody else in the car said anything. He barely noticed anyone else. There was only Blake and her eyes staring into his soul.

“Who…?” he murmured, the words dropping quietly from his lips. “Who was he?”

“An SDC security guard,” Blake said. “It was my first raid. I came around the corner and saw him there; we practically bumped into one another. He reached for his gun. I drew my sword. I was faster.” She closed her eyes as her ears drooped. “When they found me, Sienna was willing to finish him off herself, but Adam… Adam told me to do it. He said… he said that it would teach me something important.”

Jaune was rendered speechless for a few moments. “How old were you?”

Blake stared at him without replying, her chest rising and falling. “A little younger than Ruby.”

Ruby squeaked in… what? Sympathy? Pity? Both? Jaune didn’t know for sure. He didn’t ask her to find out. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Blake, from her eyes, those eyes that looked a little wetter now than they had been.

“How…?” he hesitated, but he had to know what she’d done, what he could do to get through this; Blake was able to move forward and keep fighting. He needed – wanted – to do that too. Even if he had to carry this with him then surely Blake knew how he could, maybe put it away sometimes. “How did you deal with it?”

Blake sighed. “By being young and stupid and idealistic,” she said. “By having a cause that I believed in so much that I was willing to justify almost anything, rationalise away all of my misgivings or concerns. By believing in Sienna Khan and Adam; Adam, most of all. I was told… I told myself that… that our cause was just, that anyone who opposed us was evil and that they deserved to die for their part in oppressing our people. I told myself that everything I did was for the sake of our freedom and that a noble purpose justified all actions, no matter how dark, in pursuit of it. I told myself that I could live with it for the greater good.”

Her eyes began to fill with tears. “I know that we’re not friends, I know that we don’t know each other very well, but I’m asking you: don’t do what I did. Don’t convince yourself that the people you fight are monsters no better than the grimm and so it’s okay to cut them down like they were beowolves.” She glanced away from him for a moment, looking up at Sunset, and in that moment of broken eye contact, the spell was also broken long enough for Jaune to notice the other people in the room besides Blake: Ruby looked both sad and uncomfortable; Pyrrha was trembling with a quiet fury; Sunset looked as though she was going to be sick.

Blake looked back and Jaune, captivating him with her gaze once more. “It might seem like the easy thing to do; it is the easy thing to do, and it might even help you to get through the nights… but when you realise that you’re wrong, and you will… it will hurt you so much more.”

“So what do you do?” Jaune asked. “What… what did you do?”

“I ran away and left my life behind,” Blake said. “That isn’t something that I’d recommend for you,” she added, as Jaune felt Pyrrha’s grip upon his shoulder get just a little firmer.

“In my… in the White Fang,” Blake continued. “There was nobody around me who could… who would have wanted to help me once I realised that what we were doing, what I’d done, was so wrong. Even the ones who thought that they were my friends or more… I couldn’t tell them that I didn’t want to kill any more, that I’d started to see our enemies as people, I couldn’t… even those who thought they liked me only saw me as a weapon, a killer… one of the monsters that we’d made of ourselves.

“You’re so much luckier than I am,” she said. “You have good friends, friends who will stand by you and help you, even if they don’t know what you’re going through. Let them. I can’t tell you how to feel better or deal with it because… because I don’t know the answer myself. All I can say is that… I think we have to keep moving forward and do better next time, or else… else it was all for nothing.”

Jaune said nothing. He barely nodded his head. That… that hadn’t really helped him too much, but at the same time, he found it was impossible to blame or resent Blake for that; it sounded, honestly, as though she needed as much if not more help than he did.

Judging by the way that Sunset sat down beside Blake and gently took one of her hands, it seemed Jaune wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

They were holding the prisoners in car six. Some of the security droids had been destroyed during the battle and so there was room to hold the captives they had taken. Plus Rainbow was keen to hold the prisoners in one of the cars that wasn’t filled with potential weapons that an enterprising bad guy could get some use out of.

Not that androids weren’t deadly weapons, but they would be a lot harder to turn against their masters than, say, a crate full of rifles or a combustible container full of dust.

So the prisoners – Torchwick, the girl who was apparently called Neo, the White Fang leader whom Blake had named Billie, and the mouse faunus pilot of the Paladin – were held in car six. Their hands were restrained and their auras cut off, leaving them to squat or sit in a clump of four in a gap left by wrecked AK-190s. The remainder of the 190s were deactivated for now, but Rainbow Dash hoped that none of these guys were unaware that what was deactivated now could easily be reactivated if they started to cause any trouble.

Of course, they had also been dumped in such a way as to give their living captors a clean shot, if necessary.

Ciel was standing almost – but not quite – leaning against the wall near the door, maintaining correct martial posture despite what must have been an enormous temptation to lounge a little bit. In her hands, she held Blitzjaeger, her cut-down rifle which was slightly more appropriate for the tight quarters than Distant Thunder. Rainbow had Unfailing Loyalty gripped tightly in both hands as she paced up and down, keeping out of Ciel’s line of fire as her footsteps echoed upon the metal floor of the train.

“What’s the matter, kid?” Torchwick asked. “You waiting for a train or something?”

Rainbow ignored him. Rainbow tried to ignore him. She would have rather handed their prisoners off as quickly as possible, but since that wasn’t going to happen, they were stuck with these guys all the rest of the way to Vale. And she could already see how the entire rest of that trip was going to go.

She wasn’t really looking forward to spending a train ride with Roman Torchwick or prisoners from the White Fang, to put it mildly.

“Come on, rainbow,” Torchwick said. “I’ve got nothing else to do but talk; you might as well talk back!”

“Who do you report to?” Ciel demanded.

Torchwick was silent for a moment. “Well, I don’t want to talk about that,” he muttered.

“Then keep your mouth shut.”

“Fine, sheesh,” Torchwick replied as he fell silent. That lasted for all of thirty seconds before he said, “I don’t suppose one of you lovely ladies would mind fishing a cigar out of my breast pocket, would you?”

“This is a no smoking train,” Ciel informed him.

Torchwick’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t see a sign anywhere.”

“It’s above you,” Ciel said. “And to the right.”

Torchwick looked up and to the right, to where there was indeed a sign proclaiming ‘No Smoking.’ “Well, will you look at that?” he exclaimed. “Gods, you Atlesians are a bunch of killjoys.”

“And you are a man who takes pleasure in wicked work,” Ciel snapped. “I know which I would rather be.”

Torchwick chuckled. “Blue Eyes, you got no idea what brings me joy.”

“You are correct, of course,” Ciel said calmly. “And I care not.”

Torchwick’s chuckling escalated into full on laughter. “Well, aren’t you an icy one? I knew a girl like you once, she was an Atlesian too, as cold as the tundra’s heart. Or so it seemed. As it turned out, three glasses of Mistralian tokar, and she turned hotter than a pepper sprout; my gods, we had some times. I’d go into more details but, you know, there are children listening.”

The girl Neo rolled her eyes.

Torchwick continued. “What does it take to thaw you out, Blue Eyes?”

“Shut the hell up,” Rainbow snapped.

Torchwick’s gaze flickered from Ciel to Rainbow Dash. “Or what, rainbow.”

“It’s Cadet Leader Rainbow Dash to you-”

“Oh, wow, your parents were really struggling for a name, weren’t they?”

“-and if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll tape it shut all the way to Vale!” Rainbow growled.

A smirk played upon Torchwick’s face. “I remember you from the docks,” he said.

Rainbow growled as she tapped her earpiece. “Can somebody get in here and bring me some duct tape?”

“And from the bookstore,” Torchwick continued. “Tell me something, what’s a little mustang like you doing at Atlas Academy.”

Rainbow sighed. “Ugh, not this again,” she muttered. Someone hurry up with that duct tape.

“Don’t be like that; you’re about to throw me down a hole and then throw away the hole,” Torchwick said. “The least you could do is talk to me first.”

“You could talk to all of us,” Billie said. “What’s a faunus doing-?”

“If you say ‘betraying your race,’ then so help me-”

“We’re your brothers and sisters!” Billie cried. “You should be fighting alongside us!”

“You assholes tried to kill my sister because she was in the way!” Rainbow yelled down the carriage at them. “Don’t you talk to me about brothers and sisters. In fact, don’t talk to me at all, or I will tape all of your mouths shut.”

“Do they at least give you a nice kennel and treats for being a good dog?” Billie demanded.

“Oh, please,” Rainbow spat.

The door into the car opened, and Ruby walked in, holding a ring of duct tape in her hands. “You asked for some tape?”

Rainbow grinned. “Thanks a lot, Ruby.” She propped Unfailing Loyalty up against the wall and reached out to pluck the tape from Ruby’s unresisting hands.

Ruby frowned. “What are you doing to use it for?”

The smile didn’t waver from Rainbow’s face. “I’m going to tape the mouths shut on a few of these idiots so that I don’t have to listen to them anymore.”

Ruby walked to stand beside Rainbow, looking down the train at their prisoners.

“Well hello there, Little Red,” Torchwick said, nodding affably to her. “We just can’t seem to stay away from each other, can we?”

Ruby’s hands balled into little fists. “Why?”

Torchwick smirked. “Why what? You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ruby demanded. “Why are any of you doing this? Killing people, hurting them, stealing dust and weapons so that you can try and kill even more people later on down the line? Why? What’s the reason behind any of this?” She paused for breath, her chest rising and falling. “The grimm are driven to destroy humanity. But you’re not grimm. Your human, and faunus, you know that what you're doing is wrong, but you still do it anyway! Why? What could be so important to you that you would do things like this?”

The smirk remained on Torchwick’s face, even as his eyes narrowed. “Let me ask you a question, Little Red. Why is it that you do what you do? Let me guess: you want to protect humanity, you want to save the world, you want to be a righteous hero that everyone can look up to, and for what? Some day, you’ll be dead, just like every other huntsman or huntress in history; you’ll be dead, and no one will remember your name; meanwhile, the rich will still be rich, the powerful will still be powerful, and they’ll keep on grinding us down while useful idiots like you fight their battles for them! Do you like cookies, Red?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ruby murmured.

“Imagine that you’ve got a plate with one cookie on it, and your rainbow friend there is sitting across the table with no plate and no cookie. And then sitting between the two of you at the head of the table is Jacques Schnee, with every gods damn cookie in the world on his plate, and he has the audacity to turn to you and say ‘careful there, kid, that animal wants to steal your cookie.’ And it works! Rich assholes play the poor off against the faunus, and the morons buy it! Well, me and my new pals in the White Fang, we’re done being morons, we’re done buying into that crap; we’re going to change the world together, and we’re going to tear down the rich and their huntsmen and their cops and everyone else who tries to get in our way.”

“No matter who gets hurt in the process?” Ruby demanded. “Even if they’re faunus? Even if they’re the people you claim to be fighting for?”

“Don’t expect them to care about stuff like that, Ruby,” Rainbow said. “People like this talk a good game, but that’s all it is: talk. Talk to justify all the crimes they commit, because the truth is that they just want to hurt people.”

“I take offence at that,” Torchwick declared. “I only hurt people when I have no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Ruby said.

“I don’t regard dying as much of a choice.”

“Some things are worth dying for.”

“Careful, Little Red,” Torchwick replied. “A statement like that, you might have to put your money where your mouth is some day.”

“And I will,” Ruby cried. “Because that’s what a huntress does, that’s what-”

“That’s enough!” Rainbow said, her own voice rising to cut across Ruby’s before she could blurt out something she’d regret. “That’s enough,” she repeated, more quietly as she put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “You don’t… you don’t need to answer this guy, and you don’t need to know what their reasons are. He wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“She is saying that the truth is not in you,” Ciel said.

“Any time you open your mouth offends me,” Rainbow snapped. “Which is why I’m taping it shut.” She took a step towards him, starting to unpeel the tape from the roll.

Before she could take another step, she stumbled forward a few paces as the train shuddered to an abrupt halt.

“What the-?” Rainbow began.

“Why has the train just stopped?” Ruby cried.

Rainbow tapped her earpiece. “Everyone report in! Does anybody see what’s happening?”

The Paladins filled the railway cars three abreast, lined up shoulder to shoulder, their knees bent and their hands retracted to expose the guns at the end of each arm. They loomed in the darkness of the badly-lit carriages, casting long shadows across an already gloomy space and over one another.

It was weird; they had just taken out three of these things and found them to be not nearly so tough as advertised, and yet all the same, as she stood in the doorway to car two and looked at the serried column of these war machines, shrouded in darkness, Sunset could not restrain a slight shiver up her spine.

Apparently, while Atlas was redesigning their androids to be a bit more cute and cuddly than the old models, it seemed that whoever was in charge of designing the Paladin hadn't gotten the memo.

Sunset glanced down at her scroll again. It was a text from Twilight, although why Twilight would be sending her a text was something that Sunset would have to find out, because the message itself was very short and simple.

I need to talk to you, alone. Find me in car one.

Cryptic, sure, but that was no reason not to do it. It might be important, or at least, there would be a reason for Twilight to behave this way. Sunset ducked beneath the legs of the Paladin directly in front of her and weaved underneath, around and between the docile, slumbering walkers who did not wake at her approach.

She reached the end of car two; a brief open gap confronted her, a space open to the world separating the two carriages, with only the coupling below connecting them both. The Forever Fall rushed northwards as the train rumbled south, every league carrying them closer to Vale and Beacon and home.

Sunset leapt nimbly from one car to the other, pushing the green button beside the door into car one.

Once more, she was confronted by row upon row of Paladins, hunched and poised and ready to fire, and once more, Sunset threaded amongst their ranks as she looked for Twilight Sparkle.

Sunset found her kneeling beneath the hole in the carriage roof that she had made in the course of their battle with Roman Torchwick; the light streamed down into the otherwise unlit car like a spotlight, illuminating Twilight even while all the rest of the world was shrouded in darkness.

"Are you trying to make yourself look ever more angelic than you do normally?" Sunset asked as she walked towards her.

Twilight looked up. She was wearing most of her suit of mechanical armour, but she was missing the helmet and both gauntlets, leaving her face and hands uncovered and her hair free to fall down her back in its long ponytail. Her scroll was on her lap; she had been typing something out on it, but what, exactly, Sunset couldn't see. Twilight frowned. "You… think I look angelic?"

Well, that was a stupid thing to say out loud. "That… is not at all what I meant," Sunset replied. "I was just… talking about the lighting, that's all." She waved her hand up towards the hole in the ceiling, then downwards in imitation of the light filtering down on Twilight.

"Oh," Twilight replied, in a tone that left it unclear whether she believed Sunset or not. "How's Jaune doing?"

"Not great," Sunset admitted. "I asked Blake to talk to him, but I'm not sure how much it helped."

"I see," Twilight murmured. "Poor Jaune. I can't… there's a reason why Rainbow and Applejack didn't want Pinkie or Rarity or Fluttershy to become huntresses, and it's not because they were afraid they might die. Well, it's not just because they were afraid that they might die… it's that they were afraid that they might have to live with… this."

Sunset sat down opposite Twilight, legs crossed and Sol Invictus resting against her shoulder. "I suppose I can understand that. I can't see Pinkie as a killer somehow."

"I don't want to see Pinkie as a killer," Twilight replied. "None of us do." Her brow furrowed. "If Jaune is… has he considered therapy?"

"I don't know what's going on in Jaune's head right now," Sunset admitted. "But I could suggest it, if you thought it would do any good."

"It really works," Twilight assured her. "It helped me out a lot."

"You've been in therapy?"

"I've seen a therapist," Twilight corrected her. "There have been… a few things, most recently starting when I was fifteen."

"The wedding," Sunset said; it was a statement, not a question.

Twilight nodded. Her smile was tight and taut and tense. "It really helped me to come to terms with what happened that day. With what almost happened. I know I wasn't the only one who needed it. Rainbow Dash… she said that she didn't need to talk about it, but I'm wondering now if I should have refused to take no for an answer."

"You can't help those who don't want to be helped," Sunset replied. "And besides, Rainbow seems to be doing okay."

"She did kind of fly off the handle with Blake for a little bit."

"And then she calmed down again," Sunset countered. "Unless you're saying that therapy left you completely cleansed of all your issues."

"No, of course not," Twilight replied. "I don't think that's possible."

"Well then," Sunset said, "we all have to be allowed our hang-ups." She paused. "Do you really think it would help Jaune?"

"I do," Twilight declared.

"Then I'll suggest it when we get back to Beacon," Sunset said. "Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," Twilight said quickly. She ran one finger quickly through her bangs. “Anyway, that’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Sunset said. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well,” Twilight murmured."It’s about your… it's magic, what you can do, isn't it?"

Sunset's ears straightened up, becoming longer and more pointed. Her tail went rigid with worry, even as her stomach chilled like juice in the fridge. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Twilight gave her a very knowing look. "The power that you've been passing off as your semblance, the power that you played down when you were at Canterlot but have started to show off a lot more since you got to Beacon, that's not a semblance. The most versatile semblance ever recorded is the hereditary semblance of the Schnee Family, and as far as variety goes, your powers knock theirs into a hat-"

"Oh, so because I'm a faunus, there's no way that I could have a better semblance than the illustrious Schnee Family?" Sunset demanded.

"No, there's almost no way that you could beat the law of averages like that," Twilight said. "In all the years that semblances have been recorded, in the entire historical record, there is no account of a semblance as wide ranging as yours; even the Schnee semblance is pretty straightforward: it's glyphs; it just so happens that the glyphs can be used to accomplish a great many different things. But your power? It's magic, isn't it?"

Sunset was silent for a moment, and silently, she pondered how she ought to respond to this. It was true that she had already confessed the truth to her own teammates, but Twilight wasn't one of her teammates, and Sunset wasn't as close to any of the four members of RSPT as she was to Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha. She could deny it – it wasn't as though Twilight could prove anything, after all – she could deny it and walk away.

But if she did that, then she wouldn't be able to find out what Twilight knew that would make her say such a thing. And Sunset wanted to find out. She had been a little… lax in delving into some of Remnant's mysteries. Preoccupied with her own uniqueness, it hadn't actually occurred to her to wonder what hidden traditions of magic Remnant might possess; Ruby's silver-eyes had opened Sunset's eyes to the existence of the same, but by that point, she simply hadn't had a lot of time to investigate further. Twilight might be offering her a window into such a world.

"Yes," she said. "It's magic, what I can do."

"Oh my goodness!" Twilight let out a little squeal of delight as both her unarmoured hands flew up to cover her face. "Oh my… I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew that it was real! This is incredible! This is the greatest-!"

"Are you going to start hyperventilating?" Sunset asked.

"Sorry," Twilight said with a sheepish laugh. "It's just… after all my years of search and research, I never thought that… I mean that I always had faith that one day… but to actually meet… oh my goodness, this is so awesome!"

"Yes, I am, aren't?" Sunset asked, preening her hair with one hand. "I must say I'm surprised; you're the first person I've ever met to ask me something like this. Even Pyrrha, when she started to think that my semblance was a little overpowered, she never stopped to think that it might be something more than a semblance, let alone pin the name of magic to it."

"Yeah, well, there aren't that many people who believe or will admit to believing," Twilight explained. "To be honest, I would never mention this in the lab, and even my friends-"

"Think you're crazy?"

"They're all far too nice to say that," Twilight said. "But they don't believe… they don't believe, not like I do."

"And why do you believe?" Sunset asked. "Why do you believe in something that most people would find utterly ridiculous?"

"Because it's not just a belief," Twilight insisted. "Just because I never met anyone willing to admit that the power they have is magic until right now doesn't mean that I've been holding onto blind faith all this time. There's proof if you're willing to look for it: stories of prophets and saints that are dismissed now as religious propaganda, but if you look at the commonalities across cultural and vast geographic boundaries, it makes just as much sense to say that there is at least some truth to them." She gasped. "Is that you? Are you a saint?"

Sunset laughed. "I am a lot of things, Twilight Sparkle, but I'm pretty sure that 'saint' isn't one of them. Nor is 'prophet,' for that matter." She paused. "Keep going; all of this is new to me."

Twilight's eyebrows rose. "You have magic, but the evidence for the existence of magic is all new to you?"

"I never needed to look for proof of the existence of something that I knew perfectly well that I had," Sunset explained.

"But now you're curious?"

Now I want to know if you've come across anything about silver eyes. "Humour me," Sunset said. "Please."

"Well," Twilight began, "after the prophets and saints, you come to the Red Queens: why were there never more than four queens at any one time, how did they rise to power, and how did they maintain it until their deaths? And it's not just ancient history either; there are eyewitness accounts of inexplicable happenings that just… they don't make sense under the current rational schema of the world, but that doesn't mean that those who say they saw it are liars or deluded or clueless. People aren't stupid; they know what they saw, and what they saw – what I saw – was just incredible."

Sunset leaned forward. "What did you see?"

Twilight was silent for a moment or two. "I don't remember exactly why we were on the road; I was only a young girl. I only remember that we were driving from Canterlot to Crystal City when suddenly… the grimm. I think my parents were knocked out in the crash – they were fine later, but they… I remember screaming for them as the grimm started to claw their way in, and I remember that they didn't answer. I remember how scared I was, the way I clung to my brother… and I remember her.

"I don't know who she was. She never stopped to tell us her name. But I remember her. Her hair was as white as the snow that was blowing all around us and as long as she was tall; she was dressed in blue, and her dress, her hair, they both billowed all around her, and she… this may sound crazy, but she was flying. She flew overhead, and the things that she did were just… I've never seen anything like it since. Wind, water, lighting, they were all at her command. It wasn't a semblance; I'd be prepared to bet everything I have on that. I don't know what it was; I just know that she saved all of us… and I know that I want to find out what it was that she did and how she did it." Twilight smiled, as if she was embarrassed. "I suppose I should probably tell you that being saved by this mysterious hero, who defeated the grimm without saying a word, inspired me to become a hero who'd save everyone myself… but that would be a lie. That's Rainbow Dash, that's my friends, that's the people around me who are so much better than me. All I can do is help them, make things they can use, support them with my mind… and find out the truth. Because there's more to this world than we know; I saw that with my own eyes. I know there's more out there, and I'm going to find it someday."

"I hope you do," Sunset murmured, because as far as she was concerned, only one person benefited from all the secrecy surrounding the magic of this world, and that was someone she didn't particularly care for. The more that was out in the open – within reason – the better. She considered telling Twilight about Ruby's eyes, but that… even telling Twilight that she ought to talk to Ruby might be construed as betraying a secret that wasn't Sunset's to reveal, and while Ruby might not mind, Pyrrha almost certainly would.

And Twilight didn't even mention silver eyes once. That was the most incredible thing about her account, the way that it ignored the one magic native to Remnant that Sunset knew of while hinting at a whole other, different kind of ethereal power, one which seemed much more like the magic that Sunset knew from back in Equestria. Could it be that Sunset was not the first pony to come to this world from her own? The mirror portal had been devised for some purpose, after all. And yet, if all magic bar silver eyes were Equestrian in origin, then how was it being propagated? Intermarriage? It was possible, but what Twilight was describing didn't really fit with descent through bloodlines. It seemed random, or at least to obey rules that Sunset lacked the information to get her arms around at present. "Do you have any books on this that you'd recommend?"

"Uh, sure," Twilight said. "But what about you? Come on, I asked you here to ask you questions, not the other way around. Have you always had these powers? Is there more you can do with them that you still haven't revealed yet? Is it linked to your aura in any way?"

Sunset was interrupted before she could answer by a colossal metallic screeching sound, like the whining of some beast in immense pain, coming from further down the train.

“What in Remnant is that?” Twilight asked.

Sunset didn’t reply as she got to her feet. She made her way under and around the Paladins until she reached the side door out of the railway car. She pushed the button beside it, and the door slid outwards and across the carriage wall, allowing Sunset to stick her head out and look down the rails.

Down the rails where she could see most of the rest of the train falling away behind them, as an ever-increasing expanse of empty rail line separated the engine and the front three cars from the rest of the train from which they had been decoupled.

Sunset and Twilight were borne onwards and southwards, while all the rest of their comrades were left behind.

“Well, that’s not good.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter removes the conversation between Jaune and Ozpin while bringing in the Sci-Twi backstory from 'Science and Magic'.

Sheathing the Sword (New)

Sheathing the Sword

Sunset stepped back inside the car and drew her sword, Soteria. Even in the gloom of the railway carriage, the black blade stood out, not just grey but true black, an ebon death in the right hands.

In worthier hands than mine, I must admit.

“Why the sword?” Twilight asked. She held out her arms, outstretched as though she were about to start doing star jumps, and a pair of armoured gauntlets of the same lavender hue as the rest of her – surprisingly – lithe and delicate armour formed around her hands and fingers. With a delicateness that one didn’t associate with powered armour, she took off her spectacles and placed them in a square metal pouch at her left hip, then lifted her long ponytail onto the top of her head and held it there as a rounded helmet formed around her head and face. Twilight Sparkle was gone, rendered invisible beneath her armour. Only her voice remained unchanged, issuing out of her protective metal shell without a trace of mechanical interference. “I mean, why not your gun? Or your magic?”

“Because my gun wouldn’t work for this, and while magic would, it’s easier just to use the sword,” Sunset explained.

“'Easier'?” Twilight repeated. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to cut this car off from the two behind,” Sunset said, as though it ought to have been obvious. She started to stride towards the rear door, and the coupling between carriage one and two.

“You can’t do that!” Twilight cried, following quickly after her.

“Why not?” Sunset demanded. “We need to do it quick before whoever cut off car three makes their way up here.”

“Because then, whoever cut off car three will get the Paladins!” Twilight insisted. “We came all this way to stop them from being stolen; we can’t just give them up without a fight because we’ve been cut off from the others.”

Unfortunately, she had a point there. They were supposed to be huntresses, after all. How would it look to cut and run – or ride away with the railway engine – just because Pyrrha or Ruby weren’t here to have her back? It was hardly the sort of thing that the heroes of Pyrrha’s Mistraliad would have done. In fact, it was the kind of thing that they would have found shameful in themselves and contemptible in others.

And let’s be honest here; I’d find it pretty contemptible in others too, if it wasn’t me considering it.

Rainbow will never let me hear the end of it if I run away.

I mean, she’ll never forgive me if I let Twilight get hurt, but she won’t consider that possibility when she’s letting me have it with both barrels for being a chicken.

Sunset sheathed Soteria and summoned Sol Invictus into her outstretched hand. “Do you have any drones?” she asked as she reached the door leading out of car one; across the open space that separated the two carriages, she could see the door into car two as open as it had been when she came this way. Inside, the railway carriage was dark and shadowy; the ceiling hatch was open but it let in a very small patch of light, not enough to see anything around it; the other door was shut, and the Paladins loomed in the dark like sleeping monsters, waiting for some demonic signal to summon them to life.

Only if we let the White Fang walk away with them.

The more reason not to cut the cars, I suppose.

“Yes,” Twilight said. “I’ve got one.”

“Send it into car two,” Sunset said as she knelt down in the doorway, one shoulder resting on the metal.

“Is there someone in there?”

“If I could see somebody in there, I wouldn’t need you to send the drone,” Sunset snapped. She had activated her night-vision spell on her eyes, but – apart from the fact that the sunlit stretch between the two carriages was getting in the way – there were just too many places to hide in there with all the Atlesian war machines filling up the space.

“Right, sorry,” Twilight murmured.

“No, it’s fine,” Sunset muttered. “I just… can you get the drone in there?”

“Sure,” Twilight said. She waved her right hand over her left arm, and a holographic display appeared above her wrist. She tapped at it deftly with her index finger, and from the depths of the car behind them, a whirring sound arose in answer. Sunset’s ears twitched as the whirring got louder until one of Twilight’s drones, its engines buzzing, flew above her head.

A miniature gun descended from the rectangular belly of the machine, pivoting from left to right and then back again.

Twilight reached the door and crouched down on the other side of it from Sunset. She used all of her fingers now, like typing but with no letters visible, but she must have been doing something because the drone moved further forward into the shadowy recesses of the second carriage.

Sunset looked at Twilight; there was a camera attached to the drone, and its feed was relaying back to the projection above Twilight’s wrist. Sunset dispelled the night-vision spell, it was doing her less good than harm at this point with the sunlight coming in from outside, and her glance switched between the carriage in front of her and the view from the drone being projected to her right.

The drone advanced, turning left and right, inspecting the gaps between the Paladins; the images it was sending back were green and night-vision-y, showing the thick metal frames of the war walkers as they stood motionless. What it was not showing, yet, was any sign of who had severed car three from the rest of the train.

“We should call Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said.

“Do you want to be in the middle of a scroll call when the White Fang attack?” Sunset asked.

“Good point,” Twilight murmured. “I’m surprised that they’re attacking again so quickly.”

“I’m surprised they’re being so stealthy, considering how much of a racket they made the last time,” Sunset replied, her voice soft and quiet; they might not be exactly in the presence of the enemy, but it was as well to act as if they were.

“What do we do if car two is clear?”

“Move in, secure it, check out car three,” Sunset replied.

“Right,” Twilight said. “Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” Sunset said at once. “I’m not nervous at all.” The only reason I’d be nervous is… is if it was him.

Adam’s face appeared in the drone’s camera. It was only for a moment, before there was a flash of red of the holographic screen, and the picture went black. From inside carriage two, there was the sound of something – like a drone that had just been cut in half with a sword – falling to the floor with a clatter.

Twilight squeaked in alarm. Sunset growled wordlessly. It would have to be him, wouldn’t it?

Adam. Adam Taurus with his SDC brand and his blood red sword. Sunset’s breathing became heavier just thinking about it.

She didn’t know whether he had intended to catch them alone – she suspected that might be attributing a little too much importance to herself in his eyes – or to steal the Paladins without any interference, but either way, he’d been smarter about this than his soldiers had been.

There was a bang and a flash of light from inside carriage two, and both Sunset and Twilight flinched back as the shot whizzed past them to strike the leg of a Paladin beyond. Sunset leaned out into the open of the doorway, and Sol Invictus barked twice as she fired twice, half-blind, into the darkness.

There was no more return fire. Adam didn’t return fire. There was silence from the shadowy carriage where the Paladins lurked.

So, what’s he doing now?

If he retreated, Sunset would see him open the door to car three. If he waited in carriage two, then they could wait too. The others would have noticed that the train had been split in two, and Rainbow could catch up to them with her wings.

Assuming that they weren’t under attack right now. The thought burst into Sunset’s head like an exploding grenade. That would be the ideal plan, of course: to steal the Paladins and prevent pursuit with a holding attack aimed at the rest of the train. Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, Blake, the remaining Rosepetals might all be under attack right now and unable to render Sunset or Twilight any aid for quite some time.

Sunset found herself suddenly, absurdly, glad that Adam was here, with them, instead of facing off against her friends with Sunset herself being carried away and unable to aid them.

However, it did rather diminish "sit tight and wait" as a viable strategy.

Sunset looked at Twilight. “Wait here, and if necessary, cut the connection with your energy blade.”

“What are you going to do?” Twilight demanded, surprise in her voice.

Sunset rose to her feet. “Wait here,” she repeated as she stepped out of the carriage, leaping across the gap between the two and landing on the other side a little more heavily than she might have liked.

She considered exchanging gun for sword, but Soteria would be at as much a disadvantage in the tight quarters, hedged in by all those Paladins, as Sol Invictus would be, and at least she could get a shot off with Sol Invictus.

Whether it will do any good or not is another matter, Sunset thought as the memory of that red sword slashed across her mind.

I need to get around him if I can.

Her boots tapped upon the metallic floor as she advanced into the railway car. Sol Invictus felt heavy in her hands; the stock felt hard as she tucked it into her shoulder.

Sunset walked gingerly forwards. As she more fully submerged herself in the dark, she cast the night-vision spell upon her eyes once more, illuminating the gloom so that she could see beyond the point of Sol Invictus' bayonet. She could see Twilight's drone – or the pieces that remained of it – lying on the ground, sliced in two. But she couldn't see Adam. Of their opponent, there was no sign.

Sunset walked forward, looking left and right. Where was he? The carriage wasn't that big, so where had he-?

Sunset heard footsteps on the roof of the car above her. She turned in time to see Adam drop down from the roof behind her, standing in the doorway of car two.

He was smirking as he pushed the button to close the door on her.

Sunset cursed under her breath. He had probably locked it too; still, while sight to sight was always better, memory would do at a pinch.

She teleported, appearing with a crack and a flash of green light on the plate beyond the – now locked, probably – carriage door; Adam, as she suspected, wasn't there; he had already moved into carriage one, forcing Twilight back under a furious assault.

Twilight must have gotten off a couple of shots with the lasers mounted in her gauntlets, because Adam's sword was already glowing ominously, a crimson light amidst the shadows. A blade had emerged from out of the wrist of Twilight's armour on the right, and on her left, her gauntlet was projecting a hard-light shield, but it was clear watching her try and fend off Adam which of the two combatants was a true warrior and which was an amateur.

But the true warrior had turned his back on Sunset. She raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder once more and fired once, twice, three times.

Adam turned as swift as thought, his red sword tracing crimson patterns in the air as her first, second, and third rounds were all absorbed by that blade that glowed ever brighter and with an ever more bloody hue; he was still smirking as he turned again, parrying with contemptuous ease the thrust for his back that Twilight had made, beating her shield aside, slashing her once, twice, three times, scoring her aura as his blade glanced off her armour.

Twilight recoiled, shielding herself with her arms crossed before her face, cringing before his fury; Sunset charged, and as she charged, she extended the bayonet of Sol Invictus, hoping to ram it into his back and knock him off balance. Once more, Adam rounded on her, beating her thrust aside to leave Sunset's guard open.

She dropped her rifle, letting it clatter to the floor; with the bayonet extended, it was too long for a fight in these conditions.

Sunset took a step back and drew Soteria; the red glow of Adam's sword was reflected on the ebon blade.

Adam stared at her for a moment. "You know what they did to me," he said. "You know what her kind do to ours. So why do you fight for her? Why do you fight for them against your own people?"

"You aren’t my people, they are," Sunset growled.

"For how long?" Adam demanded.

"Always," Sunset said.

Adam might have said more if Twilight hadn't taken the opportunity to try and shoot him in the back. A pair of laser carbines emerged from out of her gauntlets, bursts of lavender-tinted energy bursting forth – to slam, all without exception, into Adam's blade.

Adam's sword was now as red as fire; his hair, the red of the wilting rose upon his jacket, it was all glowing like a torch, a torch that spread its light across the railway carriage, turning it as red as blood as he rounded on Twilight.

"Don't," he growled, "interrupt me, you insolent brat."

Adam did not charge as he had charged at Ruby; Twilight was too close for that as she stood, frozen, paralysed by the fear that emanated from the monster before her. Rather, as Adam advanced, he drew back his sword for a thrust.

Sunset felt the fear too. She felt the same fear that was freezing Twilight in place, the same fear that had held her frozen at the docks, the fear that had left her helpless before his wrath.

The fear that had almost cost her Ruby.

Not again.

Sunset teleported, throwing herself between Adam and Twilight just as Adam thrust forth his blade.

The crimson sword, empowered by bullets and lasers alike, shattered Sunset's aura with a single thrust, piercing her cuirass and driving deep into her gut before bursting like a mole from the earth out the other side.

Sunset gasped. The pain was… it was all she could feel; it was the only part of her body that mattered, the part that was screaming out its mistreatment throughout her mind. Tears pricked at the corners of Sunset's eyes as Soteria dropped from her trembling hands as she fought to keep her head clear, or at least as clear as it could be kept from the pain because this was… this was… perfect.

Sunset grabbed hold of the sword with one hand. She could barely feel the edge of the blade slicing at her fingers; it didn't register compared with the pain of having the sword through her stomach. Blood coated the sword as Adam tried to twist it and pull it free, but Sunset hung on through the scarring of her hand.

She grinned, or tried to; it might have come out as a bit more like a bloody grimace. "Gotcha," she said, and with her free hand, she let him have it square in the chest, a beam of magic blasting forth.

And he had no sword now to intercept it.

Adam let go of his weapon, leaving it lodged in Sunset's abdomen as he was blasted backwards, hurled by the magic which flowed out of Sunset's hand; she poured it out, unleashing her magic in a torrent that bore back Adam Taurus, hurling him across and out of carriage one and into the door to car two that he had shut in Sunset's face.

He was held there, driven against the door by the beam of magic. The beam that began to sputter as Sunset's strength, like her blood, began to ebb away.

Not yet, Sunset thought, as she took a staggering step forwards, stumbling. Her magic began to die. Not yet.

She fell, hitting the ground with a thudding impact that she barely felt. Everything began to darken.

Not… yet…

"Sunset? Sunset!" Twilight cried, as she knelt by Sunset's side. This was bad. Sunset was still breathing, but faintly; there was no telling how much longer she had left. And worse, the sword had gone in one side and out the other, so if she removed it, there was no way that Twilight could keep pressure on the wound to keep her from bleeding out.

If she had the medkit… but that was back on the other half of the train with the others. If Jaune were here… but he was back on the other half of the train with the others too. Even if Twilight called for a medical evac now, would it get here in time? What was she supposed to do? Wouldn't someone tell her how she was supposed to save Sunset?

A thudding step drew her attention. Twilight gasped as she saw Adam bearing down on her, upon the both of them, upon the helpless Sunset… and upon Twilight, who felt equally helpless but with less excuse for it.

How can he still be standing? How can he still have aura? What is he?

Twilight rose to her feet. She wished that she could feel brave, as brave as Rainbow Dash, as brave as Sunset... but she couldn't. She didn't feel brave; she felt scared. She felt very scared.

But she stepped over Sunset's body nonetheless, raising her fists because Sunset had been willing to… to maybe die for her, even though they were hardly friends at all. How could she do less?

Twilight raised her arms and fired; once more, lavender beams burst from the miniature cannons built into her gauntlets; Adam ducked, the first flurry of beams passing harmlessly over his head as he rushed her, closing the distance between them before Twilight could adjust her shots. Her blade extended, but by then, Adam had already reached her, his arms around her waist, grappling with her as he hoisted Twilight up into the air and, with a great roar, threw her down upon the floor of the railway car. The armour cushioned Twilight from the impact, but she could see her aura diminish nonetheless through the HUD built into her helmet visor. The visor that Adam began to pound on with his fists, his face set in a snarl as his hands rose and fell like hammers, descending on Twilight's helmet, upon her arms as she tried to shield herself; she slashed at him with her wrist blade, but he simply caught her by the wrist and held her there. His grip was so strong, she couldn't break it; she couldn't resist it.

"Tell me something," Adam growled. "What makes you worthy to have a faunus die for you?"

Twilight whimpered wordlessly.

"Answer me!"

"I'm not!" Twilight cried. "I'm not, and I didn't ask her to, she just…"

"No," Adam replied. "You didn't ask. You just took her life for yours as though you were entitled to it. Because you're a human, and that's what humans do." He punched her once more, then released her as he rose to his feet. Twilight didn't move. It didn't feel possible to move, not now, not in his presence. Not even when he turned his back on her and walked towards Sunset. He knelt, and for a moment, he seemed to stare at her face, eyes closed, breathing shallow, strands of her fiery hair lying across it.

With a hand that Twilight would have called gentle had the circumstances been less creepy, Adam reached out and brushed the hair out of Sunset's face.

Then he pulled his sword out of her gut, prompting a great spurt of blood to pour out of her and onto the carriage floor.

"No!" Twilight cried.

Adam turned, and in his other hand, he raised his scabbard and shot her with it. One, two, three shots rang out, each one slamming into Twilight, each one taking another notch out of her aura until it was in the red – but there was no instructor to stop the match.

Adam smiled.

The smile on his face faded as the sound of screeching on the rails behind them rose, a sound like another train hastily coming to a stop.

Another train? But that's impossible? Our train would still be… did they find a way to move it somehow?

Adam's expression twisted into a scowl. "How?" he growled, his thoughts clearly a mirror of Twilight's own in that regard, but he seemed to have no doubt as to what it was, or perhaps Sunset had just done so much damage to his aura that he wasn't willing to take the chance, because he turned and fled, darting out of the door leading from the carriage to the engine at the front of the train.

Twilight felt the car begin to shudder to a halt a moment before she heard Rainbow Dash's voice cry out, "Twilight?!"

Pyrrha was knocked sideways as the train came to an abrupt halt, and it was only by good fortune that she didn't slip off her perch and fall to the metallic floor of the railway car.

"What was that?" Jaune asked. "Are we under attack again?" His voice and face alike proclaimed his nervousness at the prospect, although whether it was the prospect of battle or of killing again that made him so, Pyrrha could not have said.

"I don't know," Pyrrha replied gently. "We should get up on the roof and-"

"Does anybody know what just happened?" Rainbow's voice demanded into Pyrrha's ear.

"Not yet," Pyrrha said. "Is everyone alright?"

"I'll be fine once I dig myself out," Sun groaned.

"I'm alright; heading up to check out the situation," Blake said.

"Functioning at one hundred percent!" Penny declared.

"I'm okay," Ruby replied. "And so are Rainbow and Ciel."

There were no other responses.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked. "Sunset, are you okay?"

"Hey, Twilight, give us a response," Rainbow added. "Twilight?"

"Uh, guys," Blake said. "We've got a problem. Someone severed car three from four, and now, they're leaving us behind."

"What?" Pyrrha cried. "I'm on my way."

"We're on our way," Jaune corrected her, and despite the slight pallor around his face, his voice was firm with conviction.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, but she had promised herself that she would never doubt him; if he thought that he could do something, then she would let him try, for all that she might watch him with an anxious eye while he did so. She nodded. "Right. Let's go."

They ran through the train, leaping from car to car, manoeuvring around fallen crates and containers of dust, racing past androids until they reached carriage number four. Blake stood in the doorway, silhouetted in the exit from the train, with nothing but open rails and the Forever Fall forest before where there ought have been another carriage and two more beyond that until they reached the engine.

She could see car three, but only as it grew smaller in the distance, pulling ever further away from them.

"Gods," Pyrrha murmured, as she rushed to Blake's side. "Did you see who decoupled them?"

"No, but it wasn't a decoupling," Blake replied. "Take a look for yourself."

She stepped back, allowing Pyrrha to walk through the door and stand on the plate beyond. Blake was right; the two cars had not been decoupled; rather, the connection between the two had been severed, and by a single stroke too, if Pyrrha was any judge.

"Does anybody have eyes on Twilight?" Rainbow demanded into their ears.

"Or Sunset?" Pyrrha added.

"No," Penny said. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Penny," Pyrrha said quickly.

The sound of footsteps running above caused Pyrrha to look up as Rainbow appeared on the edge of the roof, her eyes wide with concern. "Blake, did you see them?"

"No," Blake repeated. "But the White Fang – someone from the White Fang – must have decided that they could still get the Paladins even if they couldn't take the whole train."

"And you think Sunset and Twilight could be…?" Jaune asked from inside the carriage.

"If they're not anywhere else, and they won't respond then..." Blake said.

Rainbow growled. "I'm going after them."

"Wait," Jaune said quickly, before she could take off and leave them behind. "I might have a better idea." He stepped forward so that he was standing in the doorway, closer to Pyrrha. "Pyrrha," he said, "if I boost you, can you move this train?"

Pyrrha's eyes widened as she comprehended what he was suggesting. "You mean… you want me to push it with my semblance?"

"The line runs straight at this point, so we don't have to worry about steering," Jaune explained. "And when we get closer, you can… slow it down, and then you, Rainbow, Blake, everyone can leap across. You can get to the engine and stop it. Or just deal with whoever's trying to take it. I don't know, but I do know that this is our best way of getting after that train and sticking together. So can you do it?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. She had never attempted moving anything nearly so large as this before; she had limited the use of her semblance almost completely to small movements of small objects; the biggest thing that she'd ever done with her semblance was move the Bullhead at the docks… but that hadn't taxed her as much as she might have thought; who knew what she might accomplish if she exerted herself?

And with Jaune's semblance amplifying hers, then she would be capable of even more than that.

For Sunset, and Twilight, she had no choice but to try.

"With your help, I can," she promised.

"Okay," Rainbow said. "Ciel, can you handle watching the prisoners by yourself?"

"I can," Ciel affirmed.

"Penny, Ruby, get up to the front of car four," Rainbow instructed. "Any time, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha turned away from her. She turned away from all of them, facing down the railway line that stretched on south and staring at the carriages with their friends aboard that were pulling rapidly away from them.

But not for long, I hope.

She felt Jaune's hand upon her shoulder; it was comforting, reassuring, and then as he began to use his semblance on her, as the golden light of his soul spread over her like an amber shower, she felt so warm, so safe… so powerful.

She could do this. With Jaune's help, she could do anything.

Pyrrha reached out, literally spreading her arms out on either side of her, both arms wreathed in black, even as the gold of Jaune's semblance danced across her gloves. Her semblance usually felt like it was another hand, an invisible limb with which she could reach out deftly to prod or to tug, but now, it was so much more than that; it was like a whole array of limbs, like an octopus' tentacles stretching out and away from her, letting her feel the train behind her in all its metallic might and glory.

She grabbed that metal and began to pull.

Pyrrha dared to look down, and she could see that the carriage upon the edge of which she stood was wreathed in black as she hauled upon it, willing it to move. It resisted; its weight and that of all the other cars behind her resisted, physics defying her will. Pyrrha stretched forth more of her power; her aura would have been dropping precipitously even now, but with Jaune's help, she had – or felt she had – more aura than ever.

She had the power; it would obey her.

Slowly, as if the engine were still attached and just pulling away from the station, the carriage began to move; it began to roll down the rail line, dragging the rest of the carriages behind it. Pyrrha didn't dare stop, didn't dare let friction bring it all to a halt again; rather, she put forth more power, pulled harder, willed the collection of rail cars to go faster, and they did. Pyrrha felt the air rushing past her, kissing her face, then almost slapping it as they sped up until the carriages were racing down the track with their wheels grinding, the thumping sounds of their progress coming faster and faster. Pyrrha felt the emerald drops that hung from her circlet hitting the sides of her face as they were blown this way and that by the speed of their movement, but she ignored them, just as Jaune must be ignoring having Pyrrha's ponytail blown into his face; he didn't let it affect him; he stayed where he was and kept on boosting Pyrrha, giving her the strength to make these railway cars barrel forwards.

The stolen railway carriages, that once had been receding into the distance, now grew larger and larger, closer and closer until they were going to crash if she didn't stop right now, weren't they?

Pyrrha slammed on the metaphorical breaks, reversing the direction of her semblance so that it was no longer pulling the train forward but pushing it back, pushing against the momentum of the weighty carriages and all their cargo, pushing to slow it down before they slammed straight into car three. The carriages began to slow, the wheels screeching in pain as they ground against the rails, sparks flying up on either side as they slowed.

Car three began to slow as well; in fact it stopped dead, forcing Pyrrha to exert all the borrowed power of her amplified semblance to bring their cars to a shuddering halt just a foot away from the car they had pursued.

Rainbow at once leapt across the gap between the two roofs. "Twilight?!" she yelled.

The answer came both through the air and into their ears. "Yes. I'm here. I need help; Sunset's badly hurt."

Pyrrha gasped. She turned to Jaune, worried now that he had used too much of his own aura; his reserves were large but not unlimited, and if he wasn't able to help Sunset... if anything happened to Sunset because Jaune had given too much of a boost to her, Pyrrha wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

"I'll be fine," Jaune assured her, in spite of the fact that he seemed to have only gotten paler since he had begun to boost her semblance. "Twilight, where are you?"

Sunset's ears were greeted by a chorus of gasps and cries even as her eyes opened slowly to be greeted by the sight of Jaune Arc, leaning over her, holding his hands over her stomach.

"Oh, thank God," he sighed, his body slumping forward a little.

That's right. I was… I was stabbed, wasn't I?

"Hey," Sunset murmured. "I suppose I have you to thank for saving my life."

Jaune shrugged. "You could say that."

"Thanks," Sunset said, sitting upright with a groan. "You might remember that when you saved Ruby, I gave you a kiss… but you've got a girlfriend now, so I'll just say thank you very much and move on," she added, smiling a little as she patted him on the shoulder. She glanced at Pyrrha, hovering anxiously over Jaune's shoulder, and winked at her.

Pyrrha shook her head very slightly, while Jaune laughed nervously. "That's fine by me. I'm just glad you're okay."

"We're all just glad you're okay," Pyrrha added.

"Really glad," Ruby said, reaching out and taking Sunset's right hand in both of hers. "Team Sapphire… it just wouldn't be the same without you."

Sunset looked at her. It looked as though she'd been crying – there were tear stains under her eyes – but Sunset didn't want to embarrass her by bringing it up. "Of course not," she said in an easy tone. "Team Sapphire wouldn't be anything without me."

Ruby snorted, her whole face crinkling up. "Same old Sunset," she said.

"It'll take more than a little scratch like that to change me," Sunset informed her. Her gaze flickered down to her hand; Jaune's stimulation of her aura had healed the through and through stab wound that would have killed her, but she was left with some pretty nasty looking scars on her hands and fingers. Nothing, thankfully, that would stop her from using said hand and fingers – as she proved to her own satisfaction, curling them up one by one before making a fist – but still a long-lasting reminder of her third encounter with Adam Taurus.

Speaking of which… "Adam?" she asked.

"Fled when he heard our approach," Pyrrha said. "He severed the engine from the remaining carriages and rode away. Jaune was needed to save you, and so I couldn't move the cars after him, and it was too risky for Rainbow Dash to pursue by herself."

Rainbow was standing a little way off, her arms folded across her chest, and at hearing Pyrrha say this, she pouted in annoyance; clearly, she didn't like to be reminded of the fact that she had made a cautious choice.

So Sunset made sure to remind her of it anyway. "I don't blame you for doing the sensible thing. He's a scary guy."

Rainbow glanced at her. "To some people, maybe."

"Yeah, people like you."

"Sunset," Ruby cried reproachfully. "Can't you stop?"

"This is the perfect time; she can't get upset at me when I'm recovering from an injury."

"Yeah, but… come on," Ruby protested.

"Okay," Sunset conceded. "So, how did you all get here?"

"Pyrrha used her semblance to pull the train," Ruby said excitedly.

"It was pretty awesome," Jaune agreed.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Really? I'm sorry to have missed that."

"I could never have done it without Jaune's help," Pyrrha said modestly. "Which makes two times today that he's been pretty awesome," she added, squeezing his shoulder gently.

"Do you think you can do that to get us the rest of the way to Vale, or are we stuck?" Sunset asked.

"General Ironwood is sending us a pick-up," Rainbow explained.

"Now that we're stuck, you mean?"

Rainbow shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah. Two Skyrays inbound."

"Sunset," Twilight said timorously. She was kneeling next to Jaune by Sunset's legs; her helmet had retracted to reveal her face one more. "I… thank you. Without you, I would have… he would have… thank you."

"Don't mention it," Sunset said.

"'Don't mention it'?" Twilight repeated incredulously. "You saved my life."

"No, I just knew that I had to do something drastic to get past his sword and semblance," Sunset informed her. "Saving you was just a happy accident."

"Why do you have to talk so much crap all the time?" Rainbow demanded. "Everyone sees right through it."

Sunset looked at her. "Not everyone, I hope."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Everyone in here," she said. She walked around Pyrrha, Jaune, and Twilight to stand by Ruby and offered Sunset a hand up.

With her own hand, her scarred hand, Sunset took it.

Rainbow pulled her up onto her feet and into a hug, patting her repeatedly on the back.

"I owe you for this," Rainbow said into Sunset's ear. "I owe you big time. Next time you're in trouble, whatever you need, I've got your back. Like you had Twilight's."

The Happy Return (Rewrite)

The Happy Return

Professor Ozpin was waiting for them at the docking bay as the Altesian airships approached the school. A tall, broad-shouldered man in an Atlesian uniform stood beside him, and Jaune wondered – guessed, to be more accurate – that this was General Ironwood; with him were a woman in white who looked like an older Weiss and a large number of Atlesian soldiers with their faces hidden behind the visors of their helmets.

“Nice to have a welcoming committee,” Torchwick said as the airships descended with open doors. The corners of his lips twitched upwards. “I remember when I was given the freedom of Lower Cairn, the mayor dragged me up in front of the whole town-”

“Unless he dragged you up in front of the whole town so that you could be pelted with rotten fruit, I don’t believe it,” Sunset snapped. “Nora’s stories are more believable than yours, and they break the laws of physics.”

“I went to a Mystery Spot once, if that counts,” Torchwick said.

Sunset rolled her eyes.

They had four prisoners: Torchwick, Neo, Billie, and the pilot of the paladin Pyrrha had taken apart, whom Blake didn’t recognise and who wouldn’t give his name. They were all in specially-designed Atlesian handcuffs that suppressed aura… somehow; Twilight had tried to explain how it worked to them, but the only ones who actually seemed to follow what she was saying were Sunset and Ciel. It was kind of creepy that they had tech that could just stop your aura like that, even if he could see why they needed it with prisoners like this Torchwick guy, but still… creepy that they just turn your aura off and leave you vulnerable like… like that poor guy.

Jaune shook his head. Anyway, the point was that they had four prisoners divided between the two Atlesian airships just like the two teams: Team SAPR had the pleasure of Torchwick and Neo’s company, while Team RSPT and Blake were in the other airship with the two White Fang captives.

The airships touched down upon the spacious docking pad; it was large enough for much bigger civilian or military airships, so it was certainly big enough for the two craft which had carried them home from the Forever Fall Forest.

Roman Torchwick was the first one out, leaping down from the airship before Sunset could push him out. Neo followed quickly. Meanwhile, it seemed that Rainbow was having to physically coerce the two White Fang prisoners out onto the docking pad.

“Get your hands off me, traitor!” Billie growled.

“Traitor, traitor, always traitor,” Rainbow snapped. “Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

The two huntsman teams dismounted and either followed or forced their prisoners across the docking pad to where what Torchwick had, not entirely inaccurately, called their welcoming committee was waiting for them.

“Roman Torchwick,” General Ironwood growled in a voice that was dripping with contempt.

“General Ironwood himself come down from on high to meet me,” Torchwick replied. “I’m flattered. I don’t suppose this would be a good time to ask for my lawyer? Or maybe my phone call?”

General Ironwood did not look impressed. He raised his voice so that all four of the prisoners could hear him. “Considering that you’ve already escaped from Valish custody once, I’ve decided to hold you on my flagship for the time being; as a terrorist under military custody, you don’t enjoy the rights afforded to common criminals. I can hold you for as long as I like, in whatever conditions I choose.”

“You know,” Torchwick said, “I’m pretty sure that my lawyer would have a field day with this… if I actually had a lawyer. Let me guess: cooperate, and I’ll get an easier time of it.”

“We do have a number of inquiries we were hoping you might help us with,” Professor Ozpin agreed mildly.

“Well, when you put it like that,” Torchwick said, “I’ll have to think it over.”

“You’ll have nothing to do but think,” General Ironwood said. “Schnee, escort our new guests to their cells aboard the Valiant.”

“Yes, sir,” the older Weiss declared, clicking her heels together as she stood to attention. “First Squad, with me!”

“Get off the airship, get back on the airship,” Torchwick muttered, as he was hustled straight back the way that he and his fellow captives had just come. “Still, it was nice to get the chance to stretch my legs.”

The general turned his attention to Team RSPT, who all snapped to attention when his gaze fell upon them. Blake stood just a little behind them, looking uncertain as to whether she ought to stand to attention or not. Rainbow Dash saluted, a gesture which the general returned.

“Good work, Dash,” General Ironwood said. “You’ve dealt a heavy blow to the White Fang’s operations. Depending on what information we can get out of those four, we might be able to follow up with something even heavier.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow Dash acknowledged. “I’m sorry that we let Adam Taurus get away from us again.”

“Was aerial reconnaissance able to locate the stolen engine, sir?” Ciel asked.

“No,” General Ironwood admitted. “The truth is that there are disused and derelict railway lines all over rural Vale, built to serve settlements that fell or were abandoned; the White Fang probably diverted the engine onto one of those, and the overgrown nature of the Forever Fall makes aerial recon difficult. But engines are far less important to me than weapons and war machines,” he went on, in a more robust tone. “You safeguarded all the Atlas Military’s property and took prisoners; you accomplished everything the operation was designed to achieve. And besides, there are worse things than having an enemy flee in terror at your coming. Your performance wasn’t perfect, and I expect your report to outline all of your mistakes and the things you should have done instead, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be proud of what you did achieve.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “But we didn’t do it alone.”

“Indeed. Welcome back, Miss Shimmer, all of you,” Professor Ozpin said with a genial smile upon his face. “I’m glad to see that you were able to help get the railroad north back up and running.” His smile faded. “I am sorry to hear that you ran into so much trouble on your way back.”

Sunset’s face gave nothing away. “You did tell us we could return at our own leisure, Professor,” she said.

“Indeed. Nevertheless, I am sorry to hear about your injury,” Professor Ozpin replied.

Sunset clenched her scarred hand into a fist. “I’m fine, Professor, thank you,” she said, softly and with a trace of a chill in her voice.

“I’m sure you are, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said mildly. “Mister Arc,” he added, turning his gaze on Jaune.

Jaune had the uncomfortable impression that he was being seen right through. It was all he could do not to take a step back. “Yes, Professor?”

“Amongst her many considerable talents, Professor Goodwitch is also a fully qualified therapist,” Professor Ozpin informed him. “And she has the advantage of her services being completely free to all students. I recommend you book some time with her.”

Jaune glanced at Sunset. Had she told Professor Ozpin already? But she didn’t even trust the Headmaster, and she was already talking to him about what had happened to Jaune?

“I… thank you, Professor,” Jaune murmured. “I’ll think it over.”

“Please do, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said gravely. “Some people are fated to suffer alone, but none should voluntarily seek to do so.” He fell silent for a moment. “In any case, I am sure that you are all tired from your mission. In view of what you’ve been through, you needn’t worry about the rest of the week’s classes.”

“That’s not necessary, Professor,” Sunset said.

“I decide what is necessary and what isn’t within this school, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin replied. His voice was mild, but the rebuke was unmistakable.

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, Professor.”

“Now then, General,” Professor Ozpin said, turning to General Ironwood, “if you would repair with me to my office, I think that we should inform the First Councillor of Mister Torchwick’s arrest.”

“Of course, Professor,” General Ironwood said, and the two men turned away and began to walk back down the path towards the school.

The students, having no desire to follow too hard upon the heels of their teachers, lingered on the docking pad as the airships carrying the prisoners took off, soaring through the sky towards one of the Atlesian cruisers that hovered in the skies over Vale.

“So,” Penny asked, “does that mean that we get a week off, too?”

“Yep,” Rainbow replied. She stretched out her arms and clasped them behind her head. “One week of doing whatever we want.”

“Whether we want it or not,” Blake muttered.

Rainbow turned her head to look at Blake, still stood behind the line of the Rosepetals, but she said nothing about it.

“We have a week in which we’re not attending classes,” Pyrrha corrected everyone. “Nothing that Professor Ozpin said indicates that we have to do absolutely nothing. We could take the opportunity to work on our coursework.”

“Some of you could,” Sunset replied. “My study partner still has to attend class.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, of course, Cinder. Well, I’m sure that a break will do… some of us a great deal of good.”

Blake let out a soft harrumph which everyone either didn’t notice or didn’t care to acknowledge; personally, Jaune wasn’t sure what her problem was. A week off didn’t seem so bad, so long as they spent the whole time sleeping in.

Pyrrha wouldn’t let him do that even if he wanted to.

He hoped she wouldn’t, anyway. Just because he’d had a bit of a rough time of it with this mission didn’t mean that he wanted to be treated with kid gloves.

He was still there. He wanted to still be there. If he hadn’t been here, then Sunset and Twilight might – maybe even would – have died at Adam’s hands. Pyrrha wouldn’t have been able to move the train without his semblance powering her up, and without him, it might be that no one would have had the idea to try.

He wasn’t the big hero like his great-great grandfather had been, but that didn’t mean that this team, these friends, didn’t need him.

He wanted to be here. He wanted to help them, to stand alongside them, to fight with Pyrrha… except that he also…

Except that he couldn’t get that guy’s face out of his head.

“So,” Rainbow said, and she started to walk down the road towards the courtyard, giving the rest of the group little choice but to follow along with her, “does anyone have any ideas as to what they’re going to do for the rest of the day?”

“I might see if I can get into the last classes before dinner,” Blake said.

Rainbow snorted. “You think the professors don’t know that you’ve been given the week off? They’re like the first people who will have been told that.”

“Although I’m not sure Professor Port will notice,” Sunset said.

“Professor Goodwitch certainly will,” Pyrrha insisted.

“Unfortunately, as it’s her classes that we need the most,” Sunset declared.

“Yes, well,” Pyrrha murmured. “Jaune, are you going to go and see Professor Goodwitch?”

Jaune winced. Just because the question was obvious didn’t mean it wasn’t also unfortunate. “I… I meant what I said to Professor Ozpin: I’m going to think about it.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. He could tell that his answer wasn’t really what she had wanted to hear, but at the same time… it was the only answer that he could give her right now.

“Well, alright,” she said softly.

He looked away from her. She was just trying to help, but at the same time, this really wasn’t something that she could help him with.

It wasn’t something that any of them could help him with, no matter how much they might want to.

“I… I think I’m going to go down to the farm for a little bit,” he said. “Pyrrha, would you mind taking my stuff back to my room for me?”

“Um, of course,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Ruby asked. “We could feed the chickens together?”

Jaune looked down at her and managed to smile at her a little even, though he didn’t really feel much like smiling. “Thanks, Ruby, but I’d rather be alone right now if that’s okay.”

The way that her face fell cut him a little, but not enough to alter his resolve. There was nothing they could do to help him with this.

“Oh,” Ruby said disconsolately. “Well… we’ll see you later, then.”

Jaune nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Later.”

He left the rest of them, turning off the path and setting off across the more uneven ground on either side of it towards the farm. He passed the columns that ringed the courtyard; he passed beneath some of the trees that grew in their well-tended beds; he kept far away from the huntsman statue that would have mocked him if he had strayed too close to it, because of course that guy had never suffered any qualms about killing people, Jaune was sure. He walked around the edge of the school grounds, and thanks to classes being in session, he encountered nobody until he reached the farm.

Even at the farm, there was no one there, unless you counted the chickens themselves, who squawked and clucked and generally made enough noise that it didn’t seem lonely here. But it was a comfortable sort of noise, the kind of noise that didn’t bother him because it wasn’t asking him questions, it wasn’t trying to help him come to terms with anything, it wasn’t telling him that he should go and see Professor Goodwitch.

They just clucked as they flocked around him, and as Jaune grabbed a bag of chickenfeed from out of the storage shed at the edge of the farm and carried it into the fenced-off enclosure, they flocked all around him, flapping their pointless wings and clucking excitedly at the prospect of food.

A sigh escaped from Jaune’s lips as he knelt down amongst the flock of birds and reached into the burlap sack, gathering a handful of feed in the palm of his hand and throwing it out amongst the chickens. They scattered excitedly, falling upon the bounty he had spread before them even as he pulled more feed out of his bag to add to it.

“What should I do, guys?” Jaune asked. “What am I supposed to do next?”

“Why don’t you ask someone who can answer back?” Rainbow Dash asked.

Jaune turned around quickly, so quickly that he nearly lost his balance and wobbled unsteadily in place; the leader of Team RSPT stood on the other side of the chickenwire fence, one gloved hand resting upon a wooden post, watching him.

“Rainbow Dash,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I can appreciate a good farm,” Rainbow informed her. “I’ve spent enough time on Applejack’s farm, after all. And Fluttershy has a chicken coop of her own out back.”

“Really,” Jaune said, evenly and without much interest.

Rainbow nodded. “Me and Applejack helped build it for her. Well, Applejack built it; I just fetched wood for her,” she admitted. She paused. “Of course, thanks to Fluttershy’s semblance, the chickens can answer back. I’m not sure that’s true in your case.”

“You did hear me tell Ruby that I wanted to be alone, right?” Jaune asked.

“Yeah, I heard,” Rainbow said. “I just ignored you.”

“Right,” Jaune muttered. “Why?”

Rainbow straightened up and leapt over the chickenwire fence. Some of the chickens clucked in alarm and retreated away from her a little bit. She didn’t seem to notice. “Some people,” Rainbow said, in a tone that left very little doubt as to who those people were that she was referring to, “are treating this week off as though we’re getting put on the bench. But that’s not true. We’re getting some time off, but the week will end. There’ll be another time. The question is, when that time comes, are you going to be there?”

Jaune didn’t reply. He looked away from Rainbow Dash and spread out some more chickenfeed across the yard.

“You’re going to make them fat if you feed them too much,” Rainbow pointed out.

She was right, unfortunately. Jaune huffed. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t,” Jaune said sharply. He sighed. “Sorry, I just… I don’t need to be coddled about this.”

“Who says I’m going to coddle you?”

“Well, you kind of coddle Twilight,” Jaune pointed out. “A lot.”

“I do not coddle Twilight,” Rainbow declared in an aggrieved tone, planting her fists upon her hips.

“Yeah, you do,” Jaune replied.

“I do not!”

Jaune stood up. “I grew up with six older sisters, and now I have Pyrrha and Ruby; I know what being coddled looks like when I see it.”

Rainbow’s eyes bulged a little. “Well… Twilight needs it!” she said loudly. She huffed. “Do you really think so?”

Jaune nodded.

“Do you think I ought to do something about it?”

Jaune shrugged. “Does she have a problem with it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even realise I was doing it.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Jaune suggested. “Instead of talking to me.”

Rainbow laughed. “You’re not getting out of this that easily,” she said.

“Have you ever killed anyone before?” Jaune asked.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Maybe,” she said.

“You don’t know?” Jaune demanded incredulously.

“It was a very confused situation,” Rainbow explained.

“The, uh, the wedding, right?” Jaune said, more quietly now.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, her voice a little hoarse. “The wedding. I got a gun; I started shooting. I mainly wanted to keep their heads down while my friends got to shelter, but… I know I hit some people. Maybe I… I gotta admit, I didn’t ask for sure.”

“I can see why,” Jaune murmured. He looked down at the chickens milling around his feet. “When I came to Beacon, I wanted…” He hesitated, unsure of how saying this would make him look in front of Rainbow Dash, the experienced warrior. “I wanted to be a hero.”

“And heroes don’t kill people,” Rainbow finished for him. One corner of her lip twitched. “I get it. Daring Do never kills anyone, and neither do the Power People. It’s just… not what heroes do.”

“Is this where you tell me that we’re not heroes?” Jaune asked.

“I’m a hero to a twelve-year-old girl back in Canterlot who thinks I’m the greatest,” Rainbow replied. “And you’re a hero to the Champion of Mistral; isn’t that enough?”

Jaune laughed self-deprecatingly. “I’m not Pyrrha’s hero.”

“You could have fooled me,” Rainbow said. “You’ve seen me coddling Twilight; I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

Jaune shook his head. “But… but she’s Pyrrha! How can I possibly-?”

“Because not everyone needs their hero to be Zapp or Millisecond,” Rainbow told him. “Sometimes… sometimes, it’s enough to be there for them when no one else is.”

“I guess,” Jaune murmured. “But that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I came here.”

Rainbow snorted. “This is the part where I tell you that there are no heroes. Not like the ones that we read about, anyway.” She paused, looking down at the chickens all around them. “You know why they need a fence?”

“I grew up on a farm,” Jaune informed her. “I know why they need a fence. It’s to keep the foxes out and stop the chickens from wandering off.”

Rainbow nodded. “Because they’re helpless if a fox does get in amongst them. Except…”

Jaune frowned. “Except?”

“I’ve sometimes wondered what would happen if I took one of these little guys and unlocked its aura,” Rainbow mused. “Fluttershy wouldn’t let me try it, and I suppose I can get why, but at the same time… why not? Wouldn’t it just make them awesome? It might even make them so awesome that they wouldn’t need a chickenwire fence because they could kick the ass of any fox who came around.”

“Where are you going with this?” demanded Jaune.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rainbow asked. “We’re chickens with aura! And it makes us awesome, awesome enough to protect the coop and fight the foxes and keep everyone safe… but it doesn’t make us comic book heroes. Those kinds of heroes don’t make mistakes.”

“But we do,” Jaune said.

“All the time,” Rainbow replied. “The point is… the point is… the point is… where was I going with this?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “If you were going to tell me not to worry about it-”

“I know that you can’t just not worry about it; I’m trying to tell you to go see Professor Goodwitch for some therapy,” Rainbow interrupted sharply.

Jaune frowned. “How were you going to get there from chickens with aura?”

“Well, when you say it out loud, it sounds stupid,” Rainbow said grumpily. “Why don’t you want to see a therapist?”

“I… I don’t want to… I don’t want to feel like a failure,” Jaune confessed. “It feels like… I already know that I’m weaker than the three of them; do I have to prove it by needing to talk about my problems?”

“So instead, you’re going to… what?” Rainbow demanded. “You can’t walk away from them, and you can’t keep them inside you either.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what everyone else does?” Jaune demanded.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. She turned away, resting her hands upon the wooden post. “I get it,” she said. “I really get it. After the wedding… Twilight started seeing a therapist. She thought it would be good for me too, but… I was too… too like you, I guess. I thought it would make me look… I thought that I needed to be strong, to be tough. I thought I needed to show General Ironwood that I could handle it. Only, I couldn’t handle it, and I’m not talking about what happened with Blake here, either, although I didn’t handle that great either. I’m talking about… I got jumpy, suspicious; I saw the White Fang everywhere I looked.”

“So what did you do?” Jaune asked.

“I started seeing a therapist without telling Twilight about it,” Rainbow answered. “I didn’t want to admit that I was wrong, but… I was wrong.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “And you think that I should do the same?”

“Do you want to stay here?” Rainbow demanded. “Now that you know what this is really like, do you want to stay?”

“Yes,” Jaune said firmly, emphatically. “Because the missions… they’re not going to stop, are they?”

Rainbow turned to face him and shook her head. “No. They’ll keep going as long as the grimm exist.”

Jaune bowed his head. “If… this might sound stupid, but… if Pyrrha or Ruby or Sunset… if one of them… if all of them… if they didn’t come back because I wasn’t with them, then… then I don’t think I could live with myself.”

“Then go and talk to Professor Goodwitch,” Rainbow urged, “and make sure that you can live with yourself. You don’t have to tell your team about it, but… you need to talk to someone.”

Jaune closed his eyes, and the face of the dead man flashed before them. “I think… you might be right.”

“So, you undertook to hold a Valish citizen aboard an Atlesian warship?” First Councillor Novo demanded, leaning forward so that her face filled even more of the holographic screen. “And now you’re refusing to hand him over to Valish custody?”

“With respect, Madam Councillor-”

“Don’t tell me ‘with respect’ when you’re showing me no respect whatsoever, General,” Councillor Novo snapped. “Lately, you’ve shown me and Vale nothing but disrespect.”

Ironwood stood behind Ozpin’s desk, his hands clasped behind his back. “Roman Torchwick has already escaped from Valish custody once, and in record time. He’ll find getting off an Atlesian man-of-war much more difficult, I assure you.”

“That may be, General, but the fact remains that he is a Valish criminal; I would have liked the Valish authorities to have gotten at least some credit for apprehending him, but as things stand-”

“As things stand, Madam Councillor, Beacon’s Team Sapphire was as fully involved in the capture of these fugitives as Atlas’ Team Rosepetal,” Ozpin slid smoothly into the conversation.”

“Ah, yes, Team Sapphire,” Councillor Novo replied. “The team that is led by an Atlesian and whose star is the Champion of Mistral.”

“I have it on multiple authorities that Sunset Shimmer is not an Atlesian,” corrected Ironwood. “She merely lived in the kingdom while attending combat school.”

“A distinction without a difference then,” summarized Novo.

“Fine credits to Beacon Academy and to the quality of an education here in Vale, nonetheless,” Ozpin said. “Personally, I think it is a great advertisement to our kingdom that so many talented students choose to come from abroad to study here with us.”

“Not everyone would agree with you, but I take your point,” Councillor Novo conceded. “But the fact remains that I wish that you had consulted with me before you decided to launch this little sting operation.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to claim a share of the credit regardless, Madam Councillor,” Ozpin said.

“Very droll, Ozpin,” Councillor Novo replied in a tone as dry as dust.

“We were afraid that any leak of our plans might compromise the operation,” Ironwood explained. “Which was why trainees were used instead of regular units; their activities could be disguised under the pretence of training missions.”

“I hope you’re not suggesting that anyone in my office would leak to the White Fang, General,” Councillor Novo said.

“I’m suggesting that careless talk costs lives, Madam Councillor,” Ironwood said diplomatically.

“Hmm,” Councillor Novo murmured. “I don’t suppose you’d be any more amenable to your students participating in a photo op now than you were after the incident at the docks, Ozpin?”

“Madam Councillor,” Ozpin said carefully, “during the course of this mission my students went through some rather harrowing experiences. I really don’t think that they’ll be in the mood.”

Councillor Novo frowned. “'Harrowing experiences'?”

“One of the students nearly died,” Ozpin admitted.

Councillor Novo’s frown deepened. “Gods,” she murmured. “Do you really think that it was wise of you to use children for an operation like this?”

Ozpin sighed. “Truth to tell, Madam Councillor, I am not sure. What I am sure of is that the students in question undertook this task of their own free will, with no coaxing or coercion on my part.”

“Of course they did; they’re children,” Councillor Novo snorted. “You’re supposed to restrain them with the wisdom of an elder. Isn’t that part of your job?”

“My job is to arm them against the darkness that surrounds us all,” Ozpin said.

“Not to wield them as weapons before they are tempered!” Councillor Novo declared.

“I would not have offered this mission if I hadn’t believed that my students were ready,” Ozpin said. “I still believe that they were – and are – ready; after all, although they might have come through the fire, they emerged out the other side victorious.”

That did not mean, of course, that he did not feel a certain sense of guilt for the way that he had behaved. He feared that Miss Shimmer – whose distrust was not so well hidden in her eyes as she might like to think – was not so wrong about him as he should like. He had dangled a mission before them so that they could go to Cold Harbour and assist Team RSPT; perhaps, as Novo suggested, he should have acted to restrain their enthusiasm rather than enabling it. He had told Glynda that he wished to give them a little more time to be children, without involving themselves in his schemes and his war, but the truth was that he had gotten them involved in that same war, if only on the periphery of it. He had involved them without even the decency of telling them the truth about the war they were engaged in.

He could mount a defence against these charges, rooted in Miss Belladonna’s reckless enthusiasm and need to act and the commendable willingness of her friends on Team SAPR to support her in that, but at the same time… it all left a somewhat sour taste in his mouth.

And he had only himself to blame.

Is it my place to stand in the way of their valour?

Is it my place to throw them into the fire before their time?

“I see,” Councillor Novo said, her voice quietening. Her expression softened, becoming more concerned than upset. “Do you have any similarly challenging missions lined up for Team Wisteria, may I ask?”

“Not at present,” Ozpin said. “And probably not ever. Team Wisteria’s training missions will almost certainly be more in line with what one would expect of the name.”

“I don’t suppose I can persuade you to give them something… low risk?”

“I would hardly be preparing them for lives as huntsmen if I did that, Madam Councillor.”

“Do you actually believe that Cardin Winchester is going to spend the rest of his life as a huntsman?” Councillor Novo demanded.

“I couldn’t say, but it is my duty to teach him as though he will,” Ozpin replied.

Councillor Novo let out a very soft ‘harrumph’. “My daughter is very fond of him,” she said.

“Indeed, Madam Councillor,” Ozpin said neutrally.

“Skystar… doesn’t give much thought to politics; it doesn’t matter to her that he’s a Winchester and that his grandfather is one of my closest allies,” Councillor Novo said. “She’s simply fond of him.” She affixed Ozpin on the end of her glare. “I don’t want her to wear black before she’s worn white.”

“I sincerely hope that all of my students will live to see graduation, Madam Councillor,” Ozpin declared.

“And I hope that you can do a little better than hope,” Councillor Novo said. She turned her attention to Ironwood once more. “General, I will consent to you retaining custody of Roman Torchwick without further protest, but if he gives you any leads, I expect you to pass them on the VPD or Professor Ozpin; I can’t have your troops running around the city breaking down doors and gunning people down in the street without reference to our Valish authorities.”

“Of course, Madam Councillor. I’ll let you know the minute he talks,” Ironwood said.

“Thank you, General, for finally showing a little of that respect,” Councillor Novo said. “Good day to the both of you and pass my congratulations on to all the students.”

There was a White Fang symbol painted on their dorm room door.

It was their door. Their dorm room door. The door into Team SAPR’s room.

And someone, some… someone absolutely indescribable in terms that an Equestrian gentlemare ought to know, had painted a White Fang emblem on it.

“You know,” Ruby ventured. “It’s so badly painted, it’s kind of hard to tell what it is.”

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Don’t lie, Ruby,” she said in a voice that was sharp and cold for all its quietness. “We all know exactly what that is.”

Blake looked away. “I’m sorry, you guys.”

Sunset blinked. “You’re sorry?” she repeated. “You’re sorry?”

Blake cringed. “I’ll make it up to-”

“You’re not the one who ought to be sorry!” Sunset roared. “Whoever did this ought to be sorry, and whoever did this is going to be sorry by the time I get my hands on them!” Cardin. I bet it’s Cardin; he couldn’t let it go, could he?

He’s going to wish he had by the time I’m done with him.

“Sunset, what do you intend to do?” asked Pyrrha nervously.

Sunset took a deep breath. “I,” she said, “am going to go to Vale and pick up some white paint so that we can cover that up. And by the time I get back, I will either be calmed down, or I will have a plan of revenge, and personally, I kind of hope it’s the latter because nobody deserves to get away with that!”

The door to the Team YRDN dorm room opened. “Hey, guys!” Nora greeted them. “Welcome back.”

“Hey, Nora,” Ruby replied, with a wave. “Sorry, did we disturb you?”

“One of you was rather audible,” Dove called from inside the dorm room, “but it wasn’t you, Ruby.”

Ruby giggled just a little. “Hey, Dove. So, how did your mission go?”

Nora’s face fell just a little. “Oh, that? Yeah, it was… a thing. I’d ask how your mission was, but really, I’m here to tell you that you should keep it quiet, get inside your room, and-”

“Is that Sunset Shimmer yelling out there?” Yang called from somewhere, possibly the bathroom, considering that she didn’t just come to the door and have a look for herself.

“Uh… no?” Nora suggested. “It’s another very angry faunus who just happens to sound like her.”

“Nora,” Ruby said. “Why are you-?”

“Everyone stay right where they are!” Yang yelled from the bathroom. There was the muted sound of a tap running, and then about twenty seconds later, Yang walked out, slamming the bathroom door behind her with a very loud bang.

“Yang!” Nora cried. “Look who’s here!”

“Nora,” Yang said, her eyes flashing red. “Get out of the way.”

“You got it, boss,” Nora said before stepping smartly out of the doorway.

Yang stomped out. She loomed over Ruby in particular, but her crimson eyes swept over all three of them.

“So,” she growled. “It seems that some of you didn’t tell me everything about your mission, did you?”

Ruby winced. “Well, you see, it wasn’t really our mission; we really were assigned to-”

“Ruby,” Yang cut her off, her tone commanding. “You didn’t tell me that you were going to try and get yourself ambushed by the White Fang on the way back to Vale, did you?”

Ruby looked away. “No. No, we didn’t.”

“No,” Yang agreed. “None of you told me that.” She glowered at Sunset. “None of you,” she repeated.

“Can you blame us?” Sunset asked.

“Yes, I can blame you. I’m doing it right now!” Yang yelled.

“Yang,” Ruby ventured, “I’m training to become a huntress; it’s going to be dangerous-”

“I’m not upset that you were in danger; I’m upset that you didn’t tell me about it first!” Yang cried. “I’m upset that… I’m upset because… because this is exactly what Raven warned us about. Don’t you get that? Don’t any of you get that?”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. She reached up and ran one hand through her hair. “The thought had occurred to me, just as it had occurred to you even before you found out the truth: extra training missions, just like she said.”

“Then why-?” Yang began.

“Because it suited our purposes,” Sunset said bluntly. “We wanted to help out Blake and Team Rosepetal; Ozpin offered us the means to do that.”

“At what cost?” Yang demanded.

“Yang, I understand that we shouldn’t have deceived you,” Pyrrha said mildly, “but don’t you think that you - that both of you - are sounding a little paranoid?”

“A woman who hasn’t wanted anything to do with me for as long as I can remember thought that this was sufficiently important that she voluntarily came into my life to warn me about it,” Yang insisted. “I think that might be something worth listening to.”

“But,” Pyrrha hesitated, glancing up and down the corridor as if she were afraid that they were being overheard, “this is Professor Ozpin we’re speaking of, and - I don’t intend any offence, Yang - but your mother-”

“She’s not my mother,” Yang said sharply.

“Raven Branwen, then,” Pyrrha corrected herself. “She’s… a deserter, yet we should take her word above a man whose reputation is unparalleled in Remnant?”

“The man of unparalleled reputation put all four of you into the firing line,” Yang replied. “All five of- where is Jaune, anyway?”

“He went down to the farm,” Ruby muttered unhappily. “He… wanted to be by himself.”

“He… this mission was a little hard on him,” Pyrrha added.

“He killed someone, and he’s taking it badly,” Sunset said bluntly.

“Sunset!” Pyrrha scolded.

“Isn’t it better that she should hear it from us than prod Jaune about a sore subject?” Sunset asked. “At least now, she knows not to mention it.”

Yang looked to be trying to remain calm, or at least stop from getting even less calm. “Did anything else happen on this trip of yours that I should know about?”

Sunset shrugged. “I got impaled on a sword.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “And this… this is what I’m talking about. What the hell was Ozpin thinking, giving a job like this to you? Or Team Rosepetal, for that matter? You’re just students!”

“I know the White Fang,” Blake murmured.

“You’re still just a kid like us!” Yang shouted. “We had a pro-huntsman on our mission, and it was supposed to be a simple job of watching some guys fix a wall.”

“'Supposed to be'?” Ruby said. “Yang, did something happen on your mission too?”

“That isn’t the point-”

“It is the point if something happened,” Ruby said. “Are you okay?”

Yang chuckled, and some of the red leeched out of her eyes. “I’m supposed to be the one asking you that, Ruby.”

“I’m fifteen and a huntress in training, just like you,” Ruby said. “Why can’t we worry about one another?”

Yang smiled and ruffled Ruby’s hair with one hand. “Because whatever trouble I got into, it was just normal training mission stuff. Things got a little out of hand at the end, but… I wasn’t approached by Professor Ozpin to do something… Ruby, you heard what Raven said. This path got Mom killed.”

“Mom died because she was a huntress,” Ruby insisted. “And she did what was right, until the very end.”

“I know,” Yang agreed. “I just… forget it. Let’s just… you’re back, and I’m back, and do you guys want to get some tea or something?”

“That sounds lovely,” Pyrrha said.

“Did you guys get time off too?” Ruby asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Then now I know something happened,” Ruby said. “Come on, Yang, spill it.”

Yang sighed. “I will,” she promised. “But first, tea, okay?”

“I’ll pass,” Sunset said. “Like I was just telling my team, I need to go get some paint to cover up that welcome home present.” She gestured to the graffiti on their door. “Thank you, by the way, for leaving that for us.”

“Yeah, things… things have been a little messed up since we got back,” Yang offered in a sort of excuse.

Going down into Vale, finding a DIY store with all of the supplies that she needed, and then getting back to Beacon took up most of the remains of the day, so that it was dark by the time Sunset returned. The dorm room was empty; her teammates were probably at dinner, but as hungry as she was, Sunset couldn’t just leave this blood red symbol on her door for one minute longer than necessary, and so, she ignored her hunger and got to work on repainting the door, or at least painting over the White Fang symbol.

“Aren’t there janitors to do that?” the silky voice of Cinder Fall announced her presence.

“I haven’t seen any around, have you?” Sunset asked.

Cinder was silent for a moment. “No, that’s an excellent point.”

Sunset bent down to place the brush in the black plastic tray. She rose again, and only then did she look at Cinder, a smile playing across her face. “Good to see you again.”

“And you,” Cinder replied.

“You could have fooled me from how long it took you to come by.”

“Perhaps I wanted to make you miss me as much as I missed you.”

“Or perhaps you had class.”

“Well, if you want to be boring about it,” Cinder muttered. “I must say, I am sorry I missed your reaction to that.”

“Oh, so you knew about it.”

“Of course. It was the talk of the whole school when it first appeared on your door.”

“But you didn’t think to maybe cover it up for us before we got back?”

“Sunset, please,” Cinder murmured, putting one hand to her heart. “A lady doesn’t sully her hands with such menial labour. I don’t see Pyrrha getting her exquisitely manicured hands dirty, do you?”

“Are you saying that I’m not a lady?”

“You’re the one who decided to do menial labour, not me.”

“Like I said, there aren’t any janitors,” Sunset muttered. “And I don’t want to have to look at this one second longer than necessary.”

“Is that why you’re skipping dinner?”

“Yep,” Sunset replied. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m not hungry,” Cinder said casually. “And I wanted to see you. How did your mission go?”

“Not too bad,” Sunset said. “We caught a couple of prisoners. I almost died.”

“Really?” Cinder asked. “You almost died?”

“Yep.”

“How in Remnant did you manage that?”

“You make it sound like incompetence.”

“Isn’t it?”

“In this particular instance, it was strategy.”

“A strategy that nearly kills you deserves to be called incompetence, in my opinion.”

“Ha ha,” Sunset growled. “It was the only way to get past his semblance.”

“He, whoever he is, must have been a dangerous opponent if he forced you to such drastic measures,” Cinder observed.

“Very,” Sunset agreed. “But I’ll get him back.” She bent down to pick up the paint brush and resumed her painting. “I’ll get them all back.”

“All of them being-”

“Whoever painted on my door, once I find out who they are,” Sunset snapped.

“Can you?” Cinder asked. “Find out who they are, I mean?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. She let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’d certainly like to – I’d really like to – but although I have suspicions, I don’t know how I’d prove it.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Cinder offered.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “How?”

Cinder smirked. “Although she is sadly deficient as a huntress, Emerald is quite the little sneak; I’m sure that if I asked her to, she could find something out about the culprit behind this little act of vandalism.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Why?”

“Why would you want to bother?” Sunset asked. “What would I owe you in return?”

“Sunset! I’m hurt,” Cinder cried. “Why would you just assume that I have an ulterior motive?”

Sunset stared at her.

“Well, as it happens,” Cinder admitted, “my reason is the same reason I didn’t take that symbol off your door.”

“Wasn’t that because a lady doesn’t do menial labour?”

“Alright, the other reason,” Cinder explained. “I was rather hoping to see your reaction.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t take it personally, Sunset; this school is so dull,” Cinder implored her. “I’m starved of amusement.”

Sunset shook her head. “You really think you can help me?”

Cinder’s smile was as bright as pearl and as sharp as a knife. “I’m positively certain of it.”

…and so, as you can see, my life recently has been far from boring. In fact – I can’t believe that I’m about to say this – I’d almost rather that it had been a bit less interesting recently.

There was a pause on the other end of the magical journal, and Sunset could almost imagine Twilight sitting on the other end of the book reading Sunset’s account and struggling to work out what to make of it all. Although, when Sunset imagined Twilight, that really meant the human Twilight; it was weird, but Sunset couldn’t really conceive of the pony Twilight at all; the Twilight Sparkle she was more familiar with just kept getting in the way of her imagination.

I see what you mean.

Sunset snorted. Probably how I’d react if I was being told all of this instead of living through it. She was sitting in the bathroom, so as not to disturb her sleeping teammates. A ball of pale green magelight hovered above her head, enough to illuminate the book resting on her knees but not bright enough that the light shining under the bathroom door would wake the four people sleeping on the other side.

I suppose that I’m to blame for not writing more often; this probably wouldn’t seem so huge if I’d let you know about it as it was going on. But things have been pretty hectic, as you can probably imagine.

I can, or at least I think I can. You know, whenever I write to you, I’m always left very glad that I live in a world where threats to the security of Equestria never show up more than once every three months or so.

Don’t get too comfortable; when I was growing up, we would have called that scarily frequent.

I won’t pretend that I don’t know what you mean, but all the same, the idea of you calling my troubles ‘frequent’ is a little bizarre. Have you become inured to it?

Can you be more specific?

The violence, the things that you call grimm, the danger.

You can’t bundle them all up together like that. Have I become accustomed to the grimm? Yes, I’d say so, or pretty much, at least. Occasionally, a particularly large or powerful specimen comes along – like the one on the railway line – that still has the power to spook me, but the usual ones, I think I can handle. I’d better be able to handle them, since I’m training to spend my life fighting them and all. Danger?

She sucked on her pen for a moment while she thought. Had she become accustomed to danger? Had she become inured to the peril in which she lived? Was it matter-of-fact to her now?

I think it depends on the circumstances, on what kind of danger we’re talking about. The same goes for the violence. If you’d asked me this before we left on our mission, I might have answered you differently, but this business with Jaune has reminded me that there is a lot that is still new to all of us; we’re all very young still.

I can’t imagine what that must be like for him.

Killing?

I wish you wouldn’t write about it like that; it makes you seem so blasé about it. The act of taking a life, even the discussion of the act of taking a life, should be treated with more seriousness than that.

I’m sorry. I don’t disagree with you on that – you can tell Celestia that I haven’t fallen so far from what it means to be an Equestrian

You could always tell her yourself.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. You’re not in Canterlot that often, are you?

No, but I could always send the book to Celestia if you wanted to talk to her.

Sunset hesitated, twirling her pen absently between her fingers as she considered the words that had just appeared on the page before her. Considered how much she really wanted Celestia to know about her life here in Remnant. Celestia already knew a fair amount, but to tell her everything, that was… that was something else altogether.

That’s kind of you, but I don’t think that I’ll take you up on it too often. I don’t think I want Princess Celestia to know everything. I suppose I’m more comfortable talking to you about certain things.

Why? You don’t know me nearly so well as you know Princess Celestia.

Maybe that’s the point. She paused, hemming and hawing over the next few words. If I had to kill somebody, I wouldn’t want Celestia to know about it; even if it was an accident or if I had no other choice to save myself or my friends. I still wouldn’t want Celestia to know that I had done that. I wouldn’t want her to think of me in that way. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want her to think of me in the way that I am; I’d almost rather she remembered me the way I was when I knew her, when I was a kid, before it all fell apart. Does that make any sense? Sunset’s eyes widened. Sunset: You don’t tell her everything that we write about, do you?

Of course not. I respect your confidence, and I understand what you’re saying, although I think you’d find that Princess Celestia could be very forgiving even if you did something terrible. Provided that you had no other choice.

Sunset frowned. Is that supposed to mean something?

Adam.

Sunset scowled. That’s completely different.

Is it? After seeing what taking a life has done to Jaune, are you still willing to embark on this path of revenge?

This has nothing to do with revenge.

Then what does it have to do with?

Adam is a mad dog who deserves to be

Put down? Really? Is that what you were going to say? Princess Celestia would be disappointed to know that you think like that now.

It’s not like I feel that way about everybody. Neither of you understand what it’s like, what he is like. Neither of you were there. Neither of you understand how terrifying he is. I had to let him stab me through the gut in order to get over my fear of him. Incidentally, please do not tell Princess Celestia that I almost died.

I probably should.

Why? You know she’d only fret.

It makes me fret a little. You nearly died.

But I didn’t, and I conquered my fear of Adam in the process. He might cut me down, but he won’t scare me while he’s doing it.

I don’t entirely follow the logic there. I thought he scared you because he might kill you.

But I was ready to die this time, I didn’t need Ruby to push me out of the way and take the hit for me, I didn’t need Rainbow Dash to save me, and I didn’t leave Twilight to her fate. He couldn’t paralyse me like he did the last time. Let me have this, Twilight. I need a win against this guy, and this is the closest thing I have where Adam is concerned. Which is another reason I need to kill him. I need to put this behind me, once and for all. And I need to do it before he hurts any more of my friends. I mean, come on, Twilight, what’s my alternative here? He’s nearly killed Ruby, he’s nearly killed me, how long until our luck runs out? Am I supposed to stand by and watch while he cuts Jaune down? Am I supposed to carry Pyrrha’s circlet home to her mother and tell her that I watched her daughter die because I was waiting to redeem her killer by the power of kindness?

I’ve seen an enemy die, you know.

Sunset didn’t reply immediately. She was stunned, honestly, to read that. It wasn’t what she expected to read from… from someone in Equestria, let alone a Princess of Friendship, still less one who had just been telling her that she shouldn’t try to kill Adam. It was… it just wasn’t what she’d expected.

You killed them?

No. No, it wasn’t me.

Sunset frowned. She could sense something coming through in Twilight’s words, but it wasn’t something that made a whole lot of sense. It almost seemed like regret, but regret for what? Regret at the death or regret that Twilight had not done the deed? One seemed false from the context; the other made no sense.

I don’t understand.

Twilight took a few moments before she actually replied. Sunset supposed that she could understand why. His name was Sombra.

The old King, the one who took over the Crystal Empire? But the Empire was sealed away, and Sombra with it.

The Empire returned, and Sombra with it. He tried to retake his throne and re-enslave the crystal ponies. My friends, my brother, my sister-in-law all tried to stop him.

And you?

Yes. And me. I hadn’t become the Princess of Friendship then; this was one of Celestia’s tests to see if I was as ready as she believed me to be. I thought that my test was to save the Crystal Empire and stop Sombra.

A reasonable assumption in the circumstances. I’d have thought the same thing in your position. I would have seen it as my destiny to defeat the monster and save Equestria from his malice.

As it turned out, the test was to see if I could take a step back and rely on others to be the hero in my place. I passed. I almost wish I hadn’t.

What exactly happened?

I fell into King Sombra’s trap; since I couldn’t escape, and King Sombra was about to reach the Crystal Faire, Spike had to take the Crystal Heart and reach the faire in my place.

The dog?

What? No, Spike is a dragon; he’s my assistant, my friend; he’s kind of my little brother too. Why would you think he was a dog?

Sunset decided that it was best not to wander off into the weeds of other Twilight and her pet dog, Spike. She wanted to find out where Twilight was going with this. Never mind. Go on, I’m sorry for interrupting.

Spike got the heart to Cadance, and its power restored the heart of the Crystal Ponies, and that power destroyed King Sombra. I saw him torn apart by the crystal magic. It killed him.

Sunset let out a slow exhalation of breath. I see. And how does Spike feel about that?

He doesn’t know. He won’t ever know. All he knows is that he saved the Crystal Empire; he’s a hero to them. But he’s still just a kid, and I don’t want him to know just how he saved the Empire. I can’t take away what he did, but I can ensure that he isn’t burdened by the knowledge of it.

That’s fair enough, and I won’t question your decision, but don’t you think that it proves my point instead of yours? Sombra was dangerous, and in the moment, there was nothing to be done but to put an end to his menace by any means.

And I won’t argue that in extremis – absolute extremis – it wasn’t necessary, but that isn’t what you’re talking about. You’re talking about hunting someone down and killing them to salve your pride.

This has nothing to do with my pride!

I suspect you can’t really believe that.

Sunset huffed. He’s dangerous. To Blake, to my team. Am I supposed to ignore that?

No, I would never tell you that you shouldn’t defend your friends, but I can ask you, I can beg you, not to seek out that confrontation. I’m not naive. I appreciate that there are monsters out there in the world; I just don’t want you to join them. Look at what Jaune’s going through, based on what you’ve told me. Is that something you want to voluntarily take on yourself?

It won’t hurt me the way that it’s hurting Jaune.

How can you be so sure?

Because I don’t care about people the way that he does.

You might believe that, but I’m not so sure.

Really? And what makes you think you know me better than I know myself?

Blake. I have to admit, I’m proud of what you did for her.

Sunset felt her cheeks heat up. I owed Blake, that’s all.

Why is it so hard for you to simply admit that you saw someone in need of compassion and were moved to offer the same? Why is it so hard for you to admit that you like her and want to help her?

Because that’s not who I am, and it never has been!

Maybe, but I wasn’t always a great friend either. Sometimes, we don’t know what we’re capable of inside until we find our true friends.

Sunset blinked. You think that I was destined to befriend Blake? And Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune too?

I don’t see why it should be so outlandish an idea. If destiny is real, and I believe that it is, why should it only apply to great events or to love? Why not to friendships too?

I suppose I can see what you mean, although I’d never thought of it that way before. Frankly, at this point, I’m more interested in any advice that you might have about Pyrrha.

I don’t think it’s your place to interfere, do you?

Her mother doesn’t see it that way; she wants me to try and push for a reconciliation between the two of them.

It seems as though hearts change more slowly in Remnant than in Equestria; I think you’ll just have to give them some time.

You think Pyrrha will come around?

You’re her friend, the person who knows her; do you think she’ll come around?

Yes, I do. I think I do. I just wish that I could be more certain, you know? And there’s also the issue of her and Jaune. She thinks she’s in love with him.

You disagree?

I don’t know; he’s the first guy she’s ever met who didn’t treat her like a trophy.

So? Sometimes these things happen. My brother only ever had a crush on one mare.

Cadance?

Exactly. And they really do love each other; anyone can see that. It seems that sometimes, you really can just know; you shouldn’t dismiss it just because you haven’t felt that yourself.

I felt it myself. I was just wrong about it. Perhaps you’re right. I hope so, for Pyrrha’s sake. She’s putting an awful lot of herself into this, and to be perfectly honest, Pyrrha is a little emotionally fragile. I’m just worried that if things don’t work out, it will break her heart.

And you’ll be there to pick up the pieces. Do you mind if we call it a night? It’s getting late here, and I’m a little tired.

Sunset smiled. Sure. Next time, you can tell me all about your life.

Since the most interesting thing that’s happened to me lately is having three fillies briefly try to take advantage of my newfound fame, I’m sure you’d be very bored to learn about my life.

I don’t know; it might be cool to hear about that kind of thing. It might make a change, certainly. Sunset yawned. But I should probably turn in myself. Goodnight, Twilight.

Goodnight, Sunset. Sweet dreams.

Sunset shut the book and tucked it underneath her arm as she got up and walked towards the bathroom door. She yawned again and covered her mouth reflexively before she reached for the door that led out of the bathroom and into the dorm room.

She had opened it a crack when she heard Jaune letting out some kind of muffled gasp or exclamation on the other side.

“Nightmares, huh?” The voice belonged to Blake, and though she was speaking softly, every word that she said was nevertheless clear to Sunset’s four ears.

There was a momentary silence before Jaune replied, “Yeah. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“It’s okay; I’m just a very sensitive sleeper.” Another pause before Blake spoke continued, “It’s rough that this had to happen to you.”

Sunset found herself lingering on the other side of the door. It wasn’t that she wanted to eavesdrop; it was just… she didn’t want to interrupt either. It felt prurient to stay, but it felt equally wrong to go through the door and reveal herself. And so, she lingered, one hand upon the door handle, and waited, and listened.

“I think it’s rough that this has to happen to anybody,” Jaune replied.

Blake sniffed, or at least, that was what it sounded like to Sunset. “You’re right, of course; although not every guy in your position would see it that way.”

More silence. Jaune said, “I… I went to see Professor Goodwitch this afternoon.”

Hidden behind the bathroom door, Sunset allowed herself a smile.

“That’s… that’s good,” Blake said. “Are you planning to see her again?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “She told me… she told me that with help, this would get better, but that it never gets any easier to take a life. Or rather, it shouldn't.”

“I don’t have the experience to dispute that,” Blake replied. “Or at least, not the right experience. Like I said, it got easier for me, but for all the wrong reasons. Honestly, it feels like this is the kind of thing that the combat schools ought to prepare you for.”

“Maybe they do,” Jaune said. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You were… apprenticed? Self-taught?”

Jaune paused before he answered. “More like not-taught. I… I faked my transcripts to get in here.”

“Really?” Blake said. For a moment, her voice acquired an edge of amusement. “Don’t tell anybody, but me too.”

Jaune sounded like he was stifling a snort. “I’m not sure that’s much of a secret any more.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I thought I could be a hero, like my great-grandfather,” Jaune said. “I suppose you think that sounds pretty stupid.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You… you don’t?”

“Maybe a little naïve for somebody with no combat training,” Blake said. “But the world will never change unless people dare to dream that change is possible, no matter now naïve or even stupid our dreams might seem to outsiders.”

“Rainbow Dash told me we could never be those kinds of heroes.”

“Rainbow Dash isn’t nearly as smart as she thinks she is,” Sunset whispered, as she came out of the bathroom with her journal tucked underneath her arm. “Pardon me for overhearing,” she murmured as she stowed the journal underneath her bed. “I couldn’t really help it.”

Blake shrugged. “You believe in heroes, I take it?”

“You don’t?” Sunset asked, somewhat surprised.

“I used to,” Blake said. “I used to believe that Adam was our hero, the one who would strike the chains from off of our people and lead us to true equality. As you can imagine, I became a little more wary of what people who call themselves heroes can do in the name of their cause.”

“But like you said,” Sunset said, “someone has to be willing to make the first step, to answer ‘no, you can’t’ with ‘yes, I can, and just you watch me do it!’ Someone has to be willing to do what others deem impossible. And yeah, you were wrong about Adam; you were really wrong. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a hero waiting for your people." She gave Blake a meaningful look. "It just means you were mistaken about who it is.”

Blake stared at Sunset for a moment. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Sunset replied.

“You think I could be the hero who saves the faunus?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sunset said. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Blake hesitated. “I… I’d be happy to support someone else who looked like they were going to do it, but… yes, I suppose you could say that’s what I want.”

“Then don’t give up on it,” Sunset said. “Either of you. Sure, your dreams are big; sure, they might seem impossible. But I could say the same of Pyrrha’s dream of destroying the grimm completely. All our dreams are big, or they wouldn’t be worth having. But we work towards them, we fight for them, we keep reaching for the stars, and together we’ll make it someday; that’s what… hey, Blake?”

“Yeah?”

Sunset smiled slightly. “Would you… would you like to put your initial on the wall, somewhere next to ours? I don’t know where you’ll be ending up, but for a while, you’re here, and you feel like… would you like to put your initial up on the wall, just so people know you were here?”

She glanced at Jaune, who nodded approvingly.

Blake smiled. “Yes,” she said. “I think I’d like that.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter retains Sunset's conversation with Twilight in the journal, and Blake's second conversation with Jaune, while adding a scene with Rainbow and Jaune and some stuff with the adults around Torchwick's arrest.

Holding Up the World (New)

Holding Up the World

“I grew up with six older sisters, and now, I have Pyrrha and Ruby. I know what being coddled looks like.”

Oh, yeah? Well, you don’t know me, and you don’t know Twilight, so keep your opinions to yourself.

Except that Jaune’s words rankled with Rainbow Dash nevertheless, because Jaune did know her, and he did know Twilight. Not as well as some people, to be sure, and Rainbow couldn’t quite deny to herself that she had tempted to call up Pinkie or Rarity and ask them if she coddled Twilight. They would, she was sure, have told her of course not, that Jaune was talking absolute nonsense… the only reason she hadn’t called them was the little voice in her head suggesting that perhaps the reason they’d think that was because they did it too.

Which was ridiculous, but that was the problem when you listened to people like Jaune or people like Gilda: even though they were idiots, even though they were liars, even though they didn’t really know your friends, even though they had no more authority to speak than some drunk mouthing off down the bar, their words had a way of getting under your skin.

Certainly, Jaune’s tongue cut deeper than his sword could have managed.

She couldn’t shake the words out of her mind, in the same way that she couldn’t quite shake Gilda’s accusations.

What Jaune had said wasn’t as bad as the things that Gilda had insinuated about her friends and the way they acted around her – that was the reason she had still given Jaune some good advice instead of laying him out flat on the ground amongst the chickens – but even so, they had gotten under her skin.

She couldn’t stop thinking about them. She had struggled to get to sleep last night for thinking about them.

They filled up her mind this morning, and as she faced the prospect of a day off, the idea that she might spend this day – this week – thinking about the idea that she might coddle Twilight was filling her with a sort of low-key dread.

Albeit, that was partly because she hadn’t yet come up with any ideas of things to do that would take her mind off of it during that week, which she probably would at some point… unless she couldn’t think because she was too busy wondering if she coddled Twilight.

Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut, Jaune?

“Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow looked up. It was Twilight. Of course it was. The light from the window was streaming down upon her, making her look especially soft and warm as the golden motes of light fell all around her, as she stood bathed in the glow of the morning sun.

If you do coddle her, it’s because she manages to look like that so often.

Twilight was wearing a plaid skirt of purple and pink and a maroon waistcoat over a light blue blouse; long purple stockings rose to just above her knees, leaving a modest display of leg before the hem of her skirt, while smart shoes adorned with blue crystal on the top encased her feet. Twilight’s hair had foregone its usual ponytail and was instead worn in a high bun.

“Hey, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Twilight said. “You were just staring into space, and so I wondered if there was anything up with you.”

“Not really,” Rainbow lied. “I just… I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?” Twilight asked, sitting down on the bed opposite Rainbow.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. Her magenta eyes darted around the room. “Where are Ciel and Penny?”

“They went to breakfast,” Twilight said. She turned her head a little so that she could glance at Rainbow out of the side of her eyes. “Didn’t you notice them leaving?”

“I guess not.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Twilight demanded.

“What makes you think-?“

“The fact that you didn’t notice Ciel and Penny leaving for breakfast,” Twilight pointed. “Ciel might be able to sneak past you under normal circumstances but Penny… 'stealthy' is not the word that comes to mind.”

Rainbow was unable to suppress a snort; her mouth crinkled with a smile. “No, it isn’t, is it?” she asked. She hesitated. “You look nice; going out anywhere special?”

“I don’t know; does Vale count as special?” Twilight asked.

“Be careful,” Rainbow said. “Those streets aren’t going to get less mean overnight just because Torchwick’s in a cell on the Valiant.”

It’s stuff like that, isn’t it?

“Okay, do you really want to know what the problem is?” Rainbow asked.

“Of course,” Twilight declared earnestly. “If you’ve got a problem, then it’s my problem too.”

Rainbow smiled thinly. “Thanks, Twilight.” She took a deep breath. “Twilight… do I… do you think that I coddle you?”

“Yes.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Well, you could have been nicer about it!”

Twilight giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry, did you not realise that was what you were doing?”

“No,” Rainbow said firmly. “I thought I was just-“

“Promising to protect me while I was sitting right there?”

“I only did that after Applejack asked!” Rainbow squawked.

Twilight’s smile flashed brightly. “Applejack does the same thing. So does Rarity. Pinkie… it’s harder to tell with Pinkie. Fluttershy doesn’t, but that’s because you all coddle Fluttershy just as much.”

Rainbow’s mouth hung open. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this frank and brutally honest assessment of her behaviour. “We… I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said feebly. “You get that, right? I just… come on, Twilight; Chrysalis was screaming about how she was going to take her revenge on you as they led her away to prison; before that, you were nearly abducted by the White Fang; when I first met you, you were getting mugged. And now you’re out of the lab and out in the field. Am I not supposed to worry about that? About you?” Rainbow slumped forwards, resting her elbows upon her knees. “We want to take care of you because we care about you, you get that, right? If we lost you, then… I don’t know what would happen to the rest of us, but I know that it wouldn’t be pretty. We care about you.” In light of the subject of their conversation, Rainbow fought against the urge to reach out and stroke Twilight’s face. “I care about you.”

Twilight nodded. “I know. I’ve always known.”

Rainbow smiled, if only for a brief moment. “But all the same… if you felt this way, then why didn’t you say something? If you didn’t like it, then you could have-“

“What makes you think,” Twilight said, “that I didn’t like it?”

For the second time in a very brief amount of time, Twilight managed to stun Rainbow into silence. “You… Twilight, what are you saying here? I ask you if you think that I coddle you, and you say yes. Then you say that Applejack and Rarity do it too, but now you say that you… don’t mind? Isn’t coddling supposed to be a bad thing?”

Twilight pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Rainbow… why are you asking this all of a sudden?”

Rainbow sighed. “When I went to talk to Jaune, he said that you coddle me.”

Twilight chuckled. “Jaune wants to be big and strong, and so he doesn’t like it when Ruby and Pyrrha remind him that he isn’t, even with the best of intentions.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed a little. “And you?”

Twilight’s smile broadened. “What makes you think that I’ve ever wanted to be big and strong?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Well… uh… you did go to Combat School?”

“Because having aura training is a plus when it comes to being selected for the best assignments,” Twilight reminded her. “And I wanted to be selected for my skills, not because – not just because – I’m General Ironwood’s goddaughter. Yeah, okay, it kind of bugs me when I have to hide in the cockpit of a Paladin when the White Fang attack, but what bothers me isn’t you telling me to secure myself in the cockpit of a Paladin; what bothers me is that you don’t have a fourth teammate who can stand alongside you and have your back. What bothers me is that Sunset had to let herself get stabbed by Adam because she was essentially fighting alone.

“It doesn’t bother me that I’m weak, because I know what I am, and I know my limits and my capabilities, and even though I was asking Pyrrha for a few pointers-“

“Why would you ask Pyrrha for a few pointers when I’m right here?” Rainbow asked, her tone becoming slightly aggrieved.

“Because Pyrrha fights with a bladed weapon,” Twilight pointed.

Rainbow considered that for a moment. “Fair enough, I guess,” she admitted.

“Besides, you already tried to teach me how to throw a punch, remember?” Twilight pointed out. “Emphasis on 'tried.'”

Rainbow laughed nervously. “Yeah, that was, uh… that was… yeah.”

Twilight chuckled. “Exactly my point. You know… you know that Applejack doesn’t really want to be a huntress, right?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t,” Rainbow replied. “I told her when we graduated Canterlot, I said, ‘Applejack, if this isn’t what you want to do, then don’t do it.’ But you know what Applejack’s like.”

Twilight grinned, her voice slipping into an approximation of Applejack’s distinctive drawl. “Sugarcube, there’s a lot of work needs to be done to keep this kingdom safe, and one thing you can say about me is that Ah always get the work done. Now, Ah may not care much for it, but so long as needs someone to watch over her-“

“Applejack is gonna be right here,” Rainbow joined her, the two of them speaking in unison.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said softly. “That… that’s Applejack all over, isn’t it?”

“It really is,” Twilight murmured. “Faithful and strong. She sees a need, and so, she can’t turn away. But the fact that Rarity did turn away doesn’t make her any less than Applejack, does it?”

“No,” Rainbow said immediately. “Of course not. If everyone was a huntress out here fighting, then-“

“Then what would we be fighting to protect?” Twilight finished for her.

“Exactly.”

“Then why should it bother me that you give me a little coddling?” Twilight asked. “It’s not as if I’m the only one. You coddle Fluttershy, you coddle Pinkie, you coddle Scootaloo. You coddle everyone who needs it.” She paused for a moment. “Pop quiz.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Come on, Twi, this is supposed to be our week off.”

“Why did Alsius change its name to Atlas?” Twilight asked.

“Ah, I know this one,” Rainbow said. She fell silent. “No, wait, no I don’t.”

“It’s from an old myth,” Twilight explained, probably not for the first time. “Atlas was a giant of immense strength who held up the sky on his back. And so, when Atlas was first lifted into the sky, it took the name as a statement of intent, that Atlas would support the world on its shoulders, just like its namesake of old had supported the heavens.”

“And we do,” Rainbow declared. “We do hold up the world, with our fleets and armies, with our-“

“With people like you,” Twilight said; she spoke softly, but loudly enough to cut off Rainbow Dash. “But not people like me. I know what I am, and I know what I’m not, and honestly, I’m fine with that. Applejack is a huntress, and Rarity isn’t, and that’s fine too, and do you know why?”

“Because… because…” Rainbow licked her lips. “I get it, in here,” she said, tapping her chest with one hand. “But you’ll have to lay out for me in words, because I don’t have them.”

“Because death isn’t Rarity’s gift to the world,” Twilight said, as though it was the most obvious thing in Remnant to put it that way. “We each have many skills, some of us have more skills than others, some of us have what you might call superior skills, but we each have only one single gift to give to Remnant; at least, I believe we do. It isn’t even the thing that we’re most skilled with, necessarily, rather… the way I see it, it’s the thing that you can give that nobody else can, at least not in the same way. Rarity’s semblance might be creating barriers, but her gift to the world is not making shields or even protecting people, and it certainly isn’t stabbing things with an epee. Rarity’s gift is beauty; it’s making people, making Remnant a more beautiful, bright, and shining place than it was when she found it.”

Rainbow nodded. "And Pinkie's gift, well, that's joy. She's a great baker, sure, but her gift? That's not making cakes; that's putting a smile on the face of everyone she meets."

"We all have something that will help us make Atlas – make Remnant – an even better place," Twilight agreed. "With our strength, with our hearts, or with our minds. We all have something to give, but we don't all have the same gift. Not everyone can be you – I can't be you."

"And who'd want that if you could?" Rainbow said. "Imagine that: a whole Atlas full of clones of me."

Twilight sniggered. "You'd drive yourself crazy with your own ego within a week."

Rainbow snorted. "Yeah, probably, but, even if I could learn to live with myself, even if I could get over having so many people who were exactly as awesome as I am… what kind of Atlas would that be, huh? A society full of warrior idiots who don't make anything, who can't even cook for themselves?"

"You're not an idiot," Twilight told her. "You're smart; you're just not intellectual."

Rainbow wasn't so sure about that, but it was kind of Twilight to put it that way, and so, she let it go for now. "So… you don't mind that I, uh, that I kind of treat you like you're made of glass sometimes?"

Twilight shook her head. "It's your gift," she said. "You protect everyone who needs to shelter behind you. You're like Atlas, holding up the world on your shoulders."

Rainbow looked away. "Stop it, Twi; you're going to make me blush."

"It's true!" Twilight insisted. "I'm sometimes afraid for you, having to carry me, but I'm never afraid for myself when you're around."

"Maybe my real gift is convincing you not to be scared?" Rainbow suggested.

"Maybe," Twilight conceded, a touch of amusement in her voice. "Either way, I know that it's not something I can match. My gift-"

"Is your smarts," Rainbow said.

"Maybe," Twilight said, more softly now and a little more reluctantly. It was her turn to look away from Rainbow Dash as she pushed her glasses up her nose. "Although, for a while now, I've started to think that maybe… maybe my gift to Atlas is you."

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure that I fit with how you originally described this," she murmured.

"Perhaps not," Twilight admitted. "But I'm not sure how I could make Atlas better than by giving it you."

Rainbow stared at her, eyes wide. "You… you always know how to take the words out of my mouth, you know that? You always know how to leave me… what am I supposed to say to that?"

Twilight chuckled. "Don't say anything. And don't do anything either. Don't listen to Jaune; if I had any problems with the way you act, I've had plenty of chances to let you know before now."

Rainbow didn't bother to hide the sigh of relief. "That… that is great to hear, Twilight; like you noticed this has been on my mind since yesterday."

Twilight nodded. "Jaune probably – hopefully – wouldn't have said it if he'd known how you take some things to heart. So how are you doing? Apart from that, I mean?"

"I'm fine," Rainbow said. "Now that that's out of the way-"

"Really?" Twilight asked, and now, she looked Rainbow square in the face, straight into the eyes. "Are you sure about that?"

Rainbow held her ground for all of three seconds. "I… no," she admitted. "I… during the mission, I… I ran into an old friend."

Twilight frowned. "You mean… at the base, you didn't… oh."

"'Oh' is right," Rainbow said. "She's in the White Fang now, and right here in Vale as well."

Twilight blinked rapidly behind her spectacles. "Who is she?"

"Her name's Gilda," Rainbow said. "We grew up together. I even lived with her for a little while after my folks moved to Menagerie." Rainbow's parents had been happy to pack in their blue collar existence in the perpetual night underneath Atlas and move to the tropical paradise where all faunus could breathe free, but Rainbow… it had felt like giving up, to her. Even before she met Twilight, she had harboured dreams – albeit dreams which seemed impossible on bad days, and most days were at least a little bad before she met Twilight – of making it up into the sky and making something of herself. So she had waved her parents goodbye, promised to write to them once she made it big in the floating city, and moved in with Gilda and her folks, until a chance encounter with a certain bespectacled bookwork had opened up whole new vistas of possibility for her.

"Gilda," Twilight repeated, running her tongue experimentally over the word. "You've never mentioned her before."

Rainbow shrugged. "I don't talk about growing up much."

"I've noticed," Twilight said. "The way you talk, your life might as well have started when you met me."

"My life did start when I met you," Rainbow declared.

"Except that it didn't, did it?" Twilight replied. "Because there's Gilda."

"Right, Gilda," Rainbow muttered. "I, uh, well, I kind of lost touch with her after I moved in with you. But you know when I used to go home for the holidays during the first couple of years at Canterlot?"

Twilight nodded. "I remember."

"I was going to her home, to stay with her folks," Rainbow said. "My parents had moved to Menagerie by then."

"And then Gilda's parents moved to Menagerie later, didn't they?" Twilight asked. "They won the lottery you mentioned."

"Right," Rainbow said. "That was a little before… before the wedding. I'd already lost touch with Gilda by then." She knew that Gilda hadn't gone to Menagerie with her parents, because Rainbow's parents had written to her telling her that the Swiftwings had moved in next door to them and it was just like old times – only with a beach view and no reason not to sit on the porch drinking margaritas at ten in the morning. Gilda, apparently, had gotten a job in construction; that was obviously a lie, but then, Rainbow had told her parents that she was just an average Atlas student with bad grades, so she didn't have much room to talk.

"Why did you lose touch?" Twilight asked.

Because she was on her way to joining the White Fang, and now I feel like an idiot for not seeing this coming.

Because she said something I couldn't forgive.

Because she said something I was afraid was right, and it was easier for me to walk away from my friend than deal with it.

"I don't want to talk about it," Rainbow muttered.

Twilight nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "But what about now? What are you going to do? About Gilda? Is she…? I mean, did you-"

"She got away from me," Rainbow said, which was kind of a lie but at the same time not quite. Or maybe it was. Close enough.

"I see," Twilight murmured. "So… what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Rainbow confessed. "I don't want to kill her, I don't even want to throw her in prison… but I'm worried she might not give me much choice."

"I… I wish that I could… I don't know what to say," Twilight whispered. "But… I don't."

"You don't have to. I don't expect you to be able to solve something like this," Rainbow assured her. "I just… Gilda, and…"

"And what?"

Rainbow frowned, if only slightly and only for a moment, as she got up off her bed and walked around the bed that Twilight was sitting on to stand in front of the window. The grounds of Beacon stretched out before her, filled with students from all four academies hurrying on their way to class. "When I fought Adam the second time, in front of the bookshop," she said, "I knocked his mask off his face. I saw his face." She leaned on the windowsill, her head bowed. "They'd burned it."

"Who had?"

"The SDC," Rainbow replied. "They'd branded it, like he was a longhorn steer."

Twilight gasped. "But… but that's-"

"Illegal?" Rainbow suggested. "Yeah, it is. I checked."

"So that… that's why you were so… I knew you were out of sorts that night!" Twilight cried. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you want?" Rainbow demanded. "That I was worried the same thing would have happened to me?"

"We wouldn't let that happen," Twilight cried, rising to her feet. "I wouldn't let that happen."

Rainbow looked at her, a slight smile upon her face. "Cadance told me the same thing."

"You spoke to Cadance?"

Rainbow nodded. "I asked her to… to look into it."

"That… was probably the right thing to do," Twilight murmured. She sat down once more, turned around so that she was facing Rainbow Dash. "You don't… you didn't really think that we'd let that happen to you, did you?"

Rainbow sighed, her breath misting the widow slightly. "No," she said quietly. "But it wasn't great to think that I was your friendship away from…"

"You're not Adam Taurus," Twilight said.

"Neither is Gilda, but she's still in the White Fang," Rainbow replied. "If I hadn't met you, if you hadn't introduced me to the General, then I… who knows where I would have ended up? Dead in a mine, the letters SDC burned onto my face, a terrorist? Tell me something, Twilight, if Atlas is holding up the world, then how come we let so many people fall off the edge?"

"You sound like Blake," Twilight pointed.

Rainbow grinned. "Maybe she's growing on me as much I'd hoped to grow on her."

"Or maybe she had a point," Twilight suggested.

"Let's not go nuts," Rainbow said.

"Okay," Twilight agreed. She paused for a moment. "I don't know what the answer is, but I do know that the path you're on is the right one. Once you're in charge, you can pull on all the levers of power to make sure that there are no more Adams and no more Gildas. You'll have to make Atlas… an even better place."

"You really think it will be that simple?"

"Maybe not that simple," Twilight said, "but you're not the first person to have this idea. It was…" she trailed off. "You should come with me, into Vale; there are a couple of books I want to get for Sunset-"

"Can't Sunset get her own books?"

"She doesn't know what she's looking for in this case," Twilight explained. "And there's something for Blake that I think you might appreciate too."

"So you want me to go bookshopping?"

"With me," Twilight pointed out.

"That does make a big difference," Rainbow agreed. "Okay, sure, let's go… after I talk to Blake and Sunset."

"Talk to them about what?" Twilight asked.

"Let's just say that I've got an idea about how they're going to be spending their free time," said Rainbow Dash.

Bad Influence (New)

Bad Influence

“I am not convinced that this is the sort of film that Penny should be seeing,” Ciel declared.

“What?” Ruby exclaimed. “Why not? What’s wrong with Grimm 3?”

“This synopsis makes it sound rather dubious,” Ciel said, holding up her scroll on which she had brought up a synopsis of the film in question. Ruby, Ciel, and Penny were currently sitting on the front row of a Skybus taking them down from Beacon to Vale. Penny sat in between Ruby and Ciel, bouncing up and down upon her seat slightly as the airship carried them down to Vale.

“What’s the matter, Ciel?” Penny asked. “Ruby said it was part of an acclaimed series.”

“It is,” Ruby confirmed.

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured. “It is also, apparently, a certificate Seventeen.”

Ruby blinked, “So?”

Ciel leaned forwards to look past Penny. “You are only fifteen,” she reminded Ruby.

“Ah, but that’s where my fake ID comes in!” Ruby declared triumphantly. “Yang made it for me so that we could watch movies together.”

Ciel stared at Ruby, silently but with an expression of frigid disapproval clear upon her face.

“What?” Ruby asked.

“There are times,” Ciel declared magisterially, “when I worry that you are a bad influence.”

“What?” Ruby cried. “That’s… I’m not a bad influence.”

“You are certainly not going to see a Seventeen,” Ciel said.

“Why not, Ciel?” Penny asked. “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“And therein lies the problem,” Ciel said firmly, addressing Ruby as much as Penny. “Rules exist to be observed, Penny, not to be flouted at our own convenience whenever it makes our lives easier.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “But if Ruby thinks-”

“Ruby thinks that she should be able to disregard the rules on this occasion,” Ciel interrupted Penny. “No doubt, Roman Torchwick felt that he should be allowed to disregard the laws against theft and murder during his career of criminality, but that didn’t prevent us from locking him up in a cell aboard the Valiant.”

Ruby sputtered. “That’s just…! I’m not a criminal!”

“Technically you are, if you have used that fake ID,” Ciel observed. “Certainly, you will not involve Penny in any rule-breaking, I forbid it.”

“You can’t just forbid it like you’re her father,” Ruby replied. “Penny’s her own person, and she can make her own choices!”

“Maybe Ciel’s right, Ruby,” Penny said softly. “I don’t really want to break any rules.”

“Penny, you won’t be a criminal just because you go see a movie that I’m too young to see.”

“I know,” Penny said, “but you will, and I don’t want you to do something bad for my sake.”

Over Penny’s shoulder, Ruby could get a glimpse of Ciel, whose restrained smile nevertheless radiated triumphant smugness.

Ruby herself pouted as she crossed her legs and folded her arms. “Okay,” she conceded with ill grace. It wasn’t like it was a big deal! She didn’t know what Ciel was making such a fuss about, big killjoy.

I knew I should have asked Yang to go and see the movie with me.

“Isn’t there another movie that we could see?” Penny suggested.

“I don’t know,” Ruby muttered. Somewhat reluctantly, she got out her scroll and brought up the listings for the PictureWorld nearest the skydock. “Oh, Ciel, you’re bound to like this one.”

“Go on?” Ciel said a little warily.

“Real Atlesian Hero: Retaliation,” Ruby said. “Starring The Boulder, Spruce Willis, and Ruby Roundhouse.”

Penny gasped. “Ruby Roundhouse! That sounds wonderful.”

Ruby’s eyebrows rose. “You’re a fan of Ruby Roundhouse?”

“Of course!” Penny said. “She’s so strong and graceful, and she always looks so pretty, even after she’s finished beating up bad guys or grimm.” Her legs bounced up and down. “I used to think that she was even cooler than Pyrrha before Ciel explained that Pyrrha does it all without the benefit of a fight choreographer.”

“Yeah, that’s always an advantage in the movies,” Ruby remarked. “That and special effects, I guess. But it still looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

“Very cool,” Penny agreed. “Can we go and see the Ruby Roundhouse movie, Ciel? Can we?”

“Let me see,” Ciel murmured. “The title sounds promising, I must admit. Real Atlesian Hero: Retaliation. Miss Roundhouse is only the third billed, but I suppose that’s to be expected at this stage in her career relative to Mister Willis and… The Boulder. Now, let’s see… the sinister organisation KOBRA have killed the Atlas Council and taken over the kingdom; now a small band of Atlesian specialists must join forces with the legendary General Joseph Colton – they do realise that he’s been dead for the last seventy years?”

“It’s a movie,” Ruby replied exasperatedly.

“It does sound like reasonable hokum,” Ciel agreed, “and despite the ridiculousness of his name, The Boulder is one of the finest actors of his generation. Yes, this should be enjoyable.”

“Yes!” Penny cried, throwing her arms up into the air.

Ruby couldn’t help but smile. It was impossible to feel disappointed about not getting to go and see her first choice of movie when Penny looked this excited about the second choice. Personally, she hadn’t thought too much of the first Real Atlesian Hero movie, but that might be because she wasn’t familiar with the comics or the toys.

Or maybe she just wasn’t impressed by all the ‘Go Atlas’ stuff; still, the fights were pretty awesome, and Penny looked like she’d enjoy it, and with all of the ‘Go Atlas’ stuff, even Ciel might have a good time.

She could probably do with it.

“But the first showing isn’t for another hour,” Ruby said, checking the times. “So, do you want to go for lu-…? No, wait, we, um…”

Penny looked at her, her green eyes intense as she leaned closer to Ruby. “Ruby? Is something wrong?”

“Penny,” Ciel said. “Give her some space.”

“Oh, sorry,” Penny gasped, hastily leaning back again so that she wasn’t so up in Ruby’s face.

Ruby laughed. “It’s fine, Penny; it’s just that… you know… how do you…? I’ve seen you eating, but…” Now it was her turn to lean forwards, so that she could whisper conspiratorially. “How does that work with the whole robot thing?”

“Oh,” Penny replied. “I have a bag in my throat that collects all of the food I eat, and then at the end of the day – usually, obviously not when we’re on mission – Twilight opens up my chest and replaces the bag with a clean one.”

Ruby couldn’t help but wince a little. “That sounds…”

“A little disgusting,” Penny agreed. “But my father thought that it was best that I should be able to eat and drink to help me pass for human. The only real difficulty is that if I talk with my mouth full, I could end up clogging up my vibrators, and then I wouldn’t be able to talk until Twilight had cleaned them out.”

Ruby shrugged. “At least you know you won’t choke.”

“No, but cleaning the vibrators really would be disgusting, and I don’t want to put Twilight to that much trouble,” Penny said.

“That’s really nice of you, Penny,” Ruby said.

“All of which is to say that if you wanted to go to lunch before the movie, that would be fine by me,” Penny declared.

“Thanks, Penny, but I don’t want to make you sit there pretending to eat.”

“And I don’t want you going hungry, Ruby,” Penny insisted. “Did you know that if the human body doesn’t get enough food to eat, your vital organs will stop functioning? Why, if that happened to you because of me-”

“I don’t think my body’s going to shut down because I skipped lunch one time, Penny,” Ruby assured her.

“As Twilight explained to you, starvation is a slow-acting process, Penny,” Ciel said forcefully. “But, if you have no objection to lunch-”

“I don’t,” Penny said. “After all, we can still talk while we eat, right?”

“So long as you don’t clog up your vibrators.”

Penny chuckled. “I’ll be sure not to,” she promised.

Ruby grinned. She leaned back in her seat, the smile remaining upon her face. “Hey, Penny?”

“Yes, Ruby?”

“Would you like me to make you a dress for the dance coming up in a few weeks?” Ruby asked. After all, she had already decided to make dresses for Sunset and Pyrrha – she probably ought to speak to them about that before they bought dresses from somewhere else – then why not Penny, too?

Penny stared at Ruby, her eyes widening even more than usual. “You… you want to make me a dress? For the dance?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said softly. “I mean, only if you want me to.”

Penny was silent. “Did you meet Rainbow Dash’s friend Rarity when she came to visit Rainbow Dash?”

Ruby nodded. “She said some nice things about my outfit and told me that I should become a fashionista if the huntress thing didn’t work out.” She laughed. “I hope it won’t come to that.”

“She’s making dresses for Rainbow Dash and Twilight,” Penny said, “because she’s their dear friend, one of their best friends in the whole world.”

“I’m not too surprised,” Ruby said. But she was surprised when Penny suddenly grabbed her in a headlock and pressed her close against Penny’s chest.

“Thank you, Ruby!” Penny cried. “This… this means so much to me, I can’t tell you!”

“Penny,” Ciel instructed. “Let her go.”

“Oh!” Penny gasped, releasing Ruby immediately. “Ruby, I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine, Penny,” Ruby said, even as she rubbed some feeling back into her neck. “I don’t see why you’re so… oh,” she murmured. “Penny,” she added reproachfully. “Did I have to offer to make you a dress to prove that you’re one of my best friends?”

“Um… should I have known already?” Penny asked. “It’s one of the only things I know that best friends do for one another.”

Ruby smiled as she reached out and took Penny’s hands in her own. “Penny, being someone’s best friend isn’t a question of what they do for you or what you do for them; it’s just… it’s something that you feel.”

“I feel like you’re my best friend, Ruby,” Penny said. “But… how could I know that you felt the same way? I can’t know what you feel, only what you do? Although I suppose you have already done a lot. I’m sorry, can you-?”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Ruby said quickly. “It’s fine. But you do like the idea, right? Of the dress?”

“I do,” Penny declared. “I really do.”

Ciel leaned forwards and past Penny. “There are times,” she said, a slight smile playing upon her face, “when you remind me that you are a very good influence.”

“I try my best,” Ruby replied. She hesitated for a moment. “Ciel, I know that we’re not best friends… or even friends at all, but would you like a dress-?”

“Please, save your generosity for those whom your heart truly cares for,” Ciel instructed her. “It is kind of you to offer, but you shouldn’t waste the treasure of your time upon mere acquaintances. We wouldn’t want you to neglect your studies because you have suddenly become dressmaker to half the school. In any case, I already have a dress for the dance.” She flicked her finger over her scroll, opening up what appeared to be a photo album, through which she continued to flick until she found a picture which she showed to Ruby. “There, that’s what I’ll be wearing.

Ruby stared at the picture. It was not what she had been expecting, to be perfectly honest; the gown was a pale blue, so pale, in fact, that when she first saw it, Ruby thought that it was white, with a long, floor-length skirt that pouffed outwards in an A-line shape. The neckline fell off the shoulders and was ruffled with white and a deeper shade of blue, the colour of Ciel’s eyes. That same shade was visible in the sash that was tied around the waist into what looked from the front to be a bow at the back. A cape of so fine a weave that it was practically transparent fell down the back of the dress, fastened to the shoulders by a pair of sparkling white gemstones.

“Plus, I will be wearing gloves,” Ciel said.

Ruby looked up from the picture. “Gloves?” she repeated. “Like opera gloves? Really?”

“Actually, they’re below-elbow length, but why not?” Ciel asked. “Pyrrha wears them all the time.”

“Pyrrha wears them to fight,” Ruby countered.

“Some might say that is stranger than wearing them to dance,” Ciel pointed out.

“All the same, I don’t know if anyone else is planning to wear gloves,” Ruby said.

“A lady is never embarrassed by being too well-dressed,” Ciel declared.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I will have the chance to find out first-hand, apparently,” Ciel said.

Ruby snorted. “It is a pretty nice dress,” she admitted. It might look a little old-fashioned, but she wore a cape almost every day, so who was she to talk?

“I am aware that it would look rather modest at a true high society gathering,” Ciel continued, taking back her scroll from Ruby’s unprotesting hands, “but this is not a high society gathering.”

“What happened to a lady never being embarrassed by being too well-dressed?” Ruby asked.

“At a certain point,” Ciel allowed, “wearing a ballgown becomes counterproductive if everyone around you considers it too odd to ask you to dance.”

“Makes sense,” Ruby said. “Do you already have your partner lined up, too?”

“No,” Ciel said. “In fact, I was… ahem, hoping that I might pick your brains about that.” She hesitated for a moment. “How well do you know Dove Bronzewing?”

“Dove?” Ruby repeated. “You want to ask Dove to the dance?”

“Ideally, he would ask me,” Ciel replied. “But, yes, if need be, I am prepared to make the first move. It is the current year, after all, as they say.”

“I…” Ruby hesitated. The truth was that, despite having eaten lunch opposite him nearly every day for several months, she couldn’t really say that she knew Dove that well. He’d been nice to her, he’d given her his copy of The Song of Olivia to make up for something that he almost certainly hadn’t actually done, and he’d done that in order to protect Lyra and Bon Bon; she knew that he spent time with Lyra, training her, a bit like Pyrrha spent time training Jaune. That made Ruby wonder if perhaps he felt about Lyra the same way that Pyrrha felt about Jaune… but then, Sunset seemed to think that Lyra wouldn’t be interested in Dove, and she’d known Lyra since Combat School, which meant that there was still a chance for Ciel if she was interested. Overall, Ruby thought that Dove was a nice, decent guy, and Yang could have done a lot worse as far as a partner was concerned… but she didn’t really know him. They hadn’t had a single deep conversation that Ruby could remember.

Or even a single conversation.

He was… a little bit uptight, but then, the same thing could be said about Ciel, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

“I think you could do worse,” Ruby said, “but I don’t really know him well enough to help you.”

“That is a pity,” Ciel said. “He seems gallant and courteous, but I confess I was hoping that you might have some deeper insights.”

“Sorry.”

“Is there anyone that you’d like to ask to the dance, Ruby?” Penny asked eagerly.

“Uh, no, Penny, no, there isn’t,” Ruby said, a slightly wistful tone entering her voice as she imagined what might have been. “You?”

For a moment, Penny looked as though she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head very rapidly and quite emphatically, keeping her mouth closed and saying nothing.

“That’s okay,” Ruby told her. “There’s still plenty of time left anyway, for both of us. So, what kind of dress would you like?”

Penny hesitated. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Isn’t that for you to decide?”

“It’s your dress, Penny,” Ruby reminded her. “You have to like it enough to wear it.”

“I’ll be glad of anything you give me, Ruby.”

“Don’t say that; it sounds like I’m going to give you a sack or something!” Ruby cried. “I’m actually pretty good at this. Do you know I made this outfit myself?”

Penny gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s why Rarity said I should think about going into fashion,” Ruby informed her. “Do you have any idea of what you might like?”

“None at all!” Penny said, with more enthusiasm that was called for.

“After the movie, we could go take a look at some dresses,” Ciel suggested. “To give you an idea of what you might like.”

“Really?” Penny asked. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yes, it really does,” Ruby agreed. “Great idea, Ciel.”

“This day,” Penny said, “is going to be-”

“So much fun!” she and Ruby said in unison.

Their laughter rang out in the airship as it carried them to Vale.

Fall (Rewritten)

Fall

Sunset emerged from the tunnel feeling as though she was about to collapse at any moment.

Judging by the way that her friends looked, she wasn’t the only one.

They had not gone so far ahead that Sunset and the others — Jaune at least; Ruby might have been a little out of it — that they had not seen what Cinder had done. In Sunset’s case she had felt, for all that Pyrrha made a good point about her being in no shape to continue fighting, that it was improper for a leader to put too great a distance in headlong flight between herself and her teammate who yet battled on, and so she had hesitated just beyond danger, falling back as Pyrrha and Cinder fell back, never getting too far away from them, even as she never got too close to the grimm either.

As her magic had recovered, achingly slowly though it did so, Sunset had expended it upon the grimm, not that either of them appeared to have noticed.

In fairness to them, they had both been rather preoccupied.

And then … and then, as Sunset had been perfectly positioned to see, Cinder had done something that rendered the small assistance that Sunset had been rendering to shame, as the sun shames a candle by its brightness.

And as for Jaune, well, Cinder’s display had been so bright that even he couldn’t have missed it, and as they fell back, Cinder had been forced to call upon the flames more than once.

Because even after Cinder had done her thing for the first time — Sunset had a sinking feeling that she could put a name to that thing that she’d done, but she didn’t really want to, certainly not before she’d actually spoken to Cinder about it — they hadn’t been completely out of the woods, or out of the tunnel even. More mutant grimm had assailed them, not so many perhaps — they’d come in more manageable numbers afterwards — but they had come on nevertheless. The second wave, Cinder had dealt with as she had the first, but afterwards, perhaps because they had come in more manageable numbers or perhaps because — although she was definitely trying to hide it — her little display had taken a lot more out of her than she was prepared to admit, and she simply couldn’t put out power like that again — something that might actually bring more comfort than the idea that Cinder was essentially some kind of human equivalent to an alicorn — Cinder hadn’t dealt with them the way that she had so effectively dealt with the great horde and with the second wave that followed. So they had had to fight their way out, which they had done, but although they had managed it, and they were all still here, they were all feeling the strain as well. Jaune was carrying Ruby in his arms, cradling her small form even as she pouted at being treated that way, while even Pyrrha looked almost as ready to fall over as Sunset felt.

As they emerged from out of the tunnel, Jaune flopped down onto his knees even as he was still holding onto Ruby, while Pyrrha started using her spear as a rest to lean on. Cinder glanced at them, but didn’t say anything before she turned away and started to walk off into the forest.

The forest. Forever Fall forest. It took Sunset a moment to notice, distracted as she was by the fact that her legs felt as though they were about to give up on her, to realise where it was they had come out, but — once she was sure that she wasn’t going to collapse onto the ground in a heap — she beheld the crimson-gold leaves upon the trees, the way that they had fallen off the trees in sufficient numbers to carpet the ground while at the same time remaining on the trees as thick as ever. Having noticed that, it was impossible not to know where they were.

At least it was impossible not to know that they were in the Forever Fall; knowing where they were within that great forest, and thus where they were in relation to Beacon or anywhere else, was another matter altogether. Forever Fall crawled up the Kingdom of Vale like its heart, buttressing the mountains of the east then sprawling northwestwards towards the shore, cutting the city of Vale off from Cold Harbour and such northern ports, so that the north-south railway line spent as much time passing through the forest as it did not. Saying that they were in Forever Fall, therefore, was about as useful as saying that they were in the Kingdom of Vale: it was an indicator, but a very, very imprecise one.

Although the fact that they had reached any part of Forever Fall from Mountain Glenn suggested that they had passed beneath the southern limits of the mountain range that formed Vale’s eastern wall and emerged beyond them, since the forest did not extend south beyond the mountains to come closer to Mountain Glenn. No wonder they were all looking shattered, leaving aside having to fight off the mutated grimm along the way.

Fortunately for them, the forest seemed peaceful for the moment. However, this particular forest always seemed peaceful right up until the moment it was not. They couldn’t afford to assume that it would stay that way.

Still, for however long it lasted, it appeared that, for now, they had been granted a respite.

Sunset stood still for a moment, letting the sounds of birdsong in the trees wash over her, before she turned away from the scarlet forest and stepped over the railway tracks as she walked towards her team.

“Ruby, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby complained. “You didn’t have to carry me.”

“Your aura was broken; that’s not fine,” Sunset said. “Not to mention that landing. Seriously, how do you feel?”

Ruby rolled out of Jaune’s arms and landed on her feet. “I’m okay, Sunset, really. My aura’s recovered and it’s healed my injuries. I’m good to go.”

Sunset smirked. “That makes you probably the only member of this team who is.”

“I will be quite alright,” Pyrrha assured her. “I’d just appreciate a moment to catch my breath. Where did Cinder go?”

“I’m not sure; I’ll find out,” Sunset said.

“Sunset—”

“I can manage this,” Sunset said. “And her.”

Pyrrha’s expression was grave. “At this point, after what we’ve just seen, I’m not sure that any of us, or even all of us, can manage Cinder.”

Sunset’s mouth tightened. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

“What she did—”

“I know.”

“What she is—”

“I know,” Sunset said. “That’s why … I think it’s important that we walk softly for now. Plus, she did save our lives.” She leaned forwards. “I know you’re worried, and I won’t even say you’re wrong to be worried, but leave this to me, okay? And while I’m gone, you see if you can get back in touch with Beacon. We could do with a lift home.”

“You want to go?” Ruby asked, sounding disappointed not just in Sunset’s decision but also, in a small way, with Sunset as well. “But we haven’t found any of the answers we came looking for yet.”

Sunset took a deep breath. “And that is … a little disappointing, but we know enough that Ozpin can send another team out here to do a recon—”

“But we’re right here,” Ruby said.

“And we almost got our asses kicked,” Sunset said. “Sometimes … sometimes, coming back alive is the win.”

“We are still alive,” Ruby said, “and we can keep going. Who else is Professor Ozpin going to send? You know that there’s no one else.”

“Four years of students, there must be someone!” Sunset snapped. “Or what hope is there for the future of Vale? Where are the third- and fourth-years? Let them get out here and earn their stripes; if they’ve done half of what we’ve already done in one year, I’ll be…” Sunset trailed off for a moment. “There must be someone else.”

“But how long will it take to get them ready and out here?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know, days at most,” Sunset replied. “It can afford to wait that long.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Ruby said. “But we’re here now. We’re still here, and we’re all going to be okay, and we can still do this.”

“We aren’t the only ones who can do this,” Sunset said.

“Maybe not, but we are the best ones who can,” Ruby insisted. “You think that Cinder would have worked with any other team from Beacon?”

Sunset stared into Ruby’s silver eyes, but then looked away. Ruby had a point, even if that point was dramatically mitigated against by the general state of the team at this present moment. She took a step back. “Jaune, Pyrrha? How do you feel?”

“I think,” Pyrrha murmured. “I think that this discussion is irrelevant. If we can’t make contact with Beacon, then it doesn’t matter because there is no evacuation coming for us, and if we do, then Professor Ozpin will make the decision on whether or not to continue our mission, and our own opinions will be of secondary consideration, if that. We should focus on seeing if we can get in touch.”

Sunset nodded. “You make a lot of sense.” Not least when it comes to preventing an argument. “See what you can do; I’m going to find Cinder.”

That wasn’t actually that difficult. They were presently trapped, or enclosed within a stone basin, hemmed in by rocky outcrops that grew out of the mountainside from which they had just emerged. A pair of stone gates, the works of some ancient civilisation, barred their way. The train tracks progressed on through what might once have been an archway — or possibly a third ancient gate — but they had now been buried beneath a pile of rocky rubble that rose so high and so steeply that the chances of them being able to climb it seemed negligible to say the least.

Someone really doesn’t want us to reach the other end of those tracks.

I should concentrate on Cinder for the moment.

The advantage of being within a stone basin as they were was that there weren’t a lot of places Cinder could actually go: Sunset just had to follow the rough direction that Cinder had gone to find a more secluded part of the basin, where the cliffs receded to form a small alcove out of sight. It was also a place where water was streaming out of a crack in the rock, forming an exceedingly modest pool that turned into an even more modest stream running away through the long red grass.

Sunset found Cinder kneeling by that little pool, splashing water onto her face with both hands, heedless of the fact that her sleeves and, indeed, the front of her dress were getting soaked in the process. Now that Sunset had a chance to look at her, she could see that Cinder looked worse than any of her friends: she looked as though she was about to pass out, so pale and drawn looked she. When she stopped splashing her face, it was to bend down to the pool and gulp greedily of the water seeping out of the rock.

I’m not at all sure how clean that is.

“Cinder?” Sunset asked.

Cinder’s head snapped around to glare at her, fire burning in her eyes as bright as the corona of flames that had surrounded her left eye in that cavern. The fire died when she saw who it was. “Sunset. It’s you. It’s just you.” She bowed her head and cupped some water into her hands before she drank from it.

I can see you weakened, but no one else can, is that it? But I can’t see you pressing your face to the water and drinking like a dog.

Sunset knelt down beside her. “Cinder—”

“Is Pyrrha afraid of me?” Cinder asked, her words coming slowly, as though they too were so weary that they struggled to walk out of her mouth. “I … think she might be.”

“Pyrrha…” Sunset frowned. “Pyrrha is apprehensive.”

Cinder paused for a moment. “I’m afraid I have misplaced my thesaurus, so you’ll have to explain whether you’re pointing out a difference or splitting hairs.”

“I … I think,” Sunset said. “I think that Pyrrha is too shocked at the moment to be frightened; she is wary of … of what you did. Wary of what you can do.”

“I see,” Cinder whispered. “You know, there’s a certain irony to the fact that I would have loved this, not too long ago. I would have delighted in having Pyrrha Nikos quiver in terror before me.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sunset said.

Cinder glanced at her. “Yes, I would.”

“No,” Sunset repeated. “You wouldn’t.”

“Because you know me so well with that semblance of yours?”

“Because if you really wanted that, you would have broken out those abilities when you were fighting her,” Sunset pointed out.

Cinder was silent for a moment. When she spoke, it was with a certain huffiness in her voice, despite how tired she sounded. “Nobody likes a smartass, you know.”

“Yes,” Sunset said quietly. “I’m aware.”

Cinder closed her eyes for a moment. “I … you’re still not entirely correct, though. I wanted to defeat Mistral’s Champion with my own strength, my own two hands; that’s why I didn’t use … I wanted to defeat Pyrrha on her own battlefield. I wanted to show that I was stronger than her as I was … as I was born. But, even as I wanted to defeat Mistral’s Champion—”

“Apparently, that’s someone else now,” Sunset said idly. “Someone named Metella, the Mermaid Knight.”

“The one with the seashells?”

“You know her?”

“I think Phoebe has beaten her at least once,” Cinder declared incredulously. “She boasted about it, and then her mother told her that besting a fish was nothing at all to feel proud of. How in Remnant did she become the Champion?”

“She has a lot of heart, apparently.”

“That’s what people say when they can’t think of any real compliments,” Cinder pointed out.

Sunset shrugged. “And yet, nevertheless.”

“Indeed. Nevertheless,” Cinder murmured. “Nevertheless, nevertheless, nevertheless. Nevertheless, despite who may wear the crown at present, Pyrrha will always remain something … something special, in the eyes of her people. Something great, something tremendous, something … invincible. It was that which I wished to defeat, armed only with my native abilities. But … I must confess that another part of me would have relished frightening … another part of her.”

Sunset frowned. “'Another part'?”

“The Mistral princess with her head in the clouds,” Cinder said, “thinking that everything is going to work out because it always does for people like her.”

“Like you used to be?” Sunset asked.

Cinder tensed, and for a moment, Sunset feared that she had said the wrong thing. But eventually, Cinder nodded. “Yes. Like I used to be.” She splashed some more water on her face. “Do you … do you remember when we went for ice cream? We talked about the Immortal Man, and then … and then we met Phoebe on the street outside.”

“You were frozen,” Sunset murmured. “You looked … I didn’t understand it then, but … you’re still scared of her, aren’t you?”

“I am not afraid of anyone,” Cinder declared. “Not even death himself, but … seeing her … I felt like a child again, a helpless child, trembling before her. I hated it, but … but I couldn’t do anything except … except … I couldn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Sunset said. “I took care of it.”

“Yes,” Cinder agreed. “Yes, you took care of it. For which I am truly grateful, even if my pride would not let me say so at the time. But my point is … Phoebe didn’t recognise me at all.”

“She probably thinks you died in the fire,” Sunset pointed out. “I think most people think that.”

Cinder shook her head. “I doubt she cares enough to think about what became of me, or cared enough to look at what I look like now. I haven’t dyed my hair, I don’t wear coloured lenses on my eyes, I … you could look at a picture of that stupid girl and look at me and guess that there was some connection between us, but Phoebe just didn’t care to. She doesn’t care, she has no need to care, she is … careless. That’s what they are, the Old Blood of Mistral: careless people.”

“Pyrrha’s not like that,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha’s kind. I thought like you did when I first met her, but I had her all wrong. You had her all wrong. At that party … if she had honestly known what your situation was, I truly believe that she would have tried to help you.”

Cinder was silent, and still for that matter. The only sound was the trickling of the water into the pool and the singing of a bird in a nearby tree. “Help me,” Cinder murmured. “I found … I found someone better to help me than Pyrrha Nikos.”

“Salem,” Sunset sighed. She watched as Cinder drank some more water from the pool. “So, which one are you?”

Cinder lifted her head up, a vaguely guilty look on her face. “Which what am I?”

“Maiden,” Sunset said. “I know magic when I see it, and I know that the four seasonal maidens are the only beings in this world with anything like the kind of powers that you just threw around, so which one are you? Winter, spring, summer—”

“Fall,” Cinder said, her voice subdued. “I’m the Fall Maiden.”

“Who…?” Sunset hesitated. She did not want to ask this question; she really didn’t want to ask. But at the same time, she had no real choice but to ask. “Who did you kill?”

Cinder looked at her.

“I’ve read enough to understand that’s how it works,” Sunset said softly. “You kill the previous Maiden to become the Maiden. So … who?”

“No one you know.”

“Cinder—”

“Why do you care?” Cinder said. “Does it really matter who she was?”

Sunset didn’t move, nor did she take her eyes off Cinder’s face.

“I … suppose it doesn’t, not really,” Sunset admitted. “But I … feel I ought to ask regardless of whether it really matters or not. I ought to ask or else … I’ll be a worse person than I already am.”

Cinder snorted. “You’re not a bad person, Sunset.”

“Ruby would disagree, if she knew.”

“Yes, well … Ruby,” Cinder murmured. “If you’re a bad person, then what does that make me?”

Sunset didn’t reply to that. She just kept her eyes on Cinder and held her peace. What answer could she possibly give, really? How was she supposed to respond to that?

What did Cinder want from her?

Cinder rocked back on her haunches and then sat back against a nearby tree. Her arms fell down listless by her sides, as though she no longer had the energy to move them.

“She was the previous Fall Maiden,” she said. “Obviously.”

“Did you know her?”

“Of course not,” Cinder said dismissively. “I wanted her power, so I killed her for it. I … I suppose the answer to my own question is that if you’re a bad person, then I must be a monster.”

Sunset said nothing.

Cinder glared at her. “What are you still doing here?”

“Does it bother you that I’m here?”

“It…” Cinder scowled. “I don’t get you, Sunset Shimmer. I thought that I did. I thought that you were like me.”

“More than I’d like.”

Cinder shook her head. “But you’re not. Not at all, not really. It may be that your system of morals is not up to the exacting standards of Ruby Rose, but at the same time … you may have enjoyed Mistral, but you didn’t really understand it, did you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you saw the tourist traps, guested in a grand old house, took in some of the great architecture, befriended Pyrrha, and skimmed The Mistraliad, and on that basis, you imagined that you understood Mistral, and you liked what you thought you understood. But Mistral is … Mistral is not architecture, Mistral is not museums or theatres or the sanitised Colosseum of the modern day, Mistral is certainly not Pyrrha Nikos — much though I will concede that, in skill at least, she embodies the martial qualities of our heroic past. But Mistral is not kind, Mistral is not sweet, Mistral is not adorable, Mistral is … Mistral is blood and violence. And that makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? I know that … Emerald told me that the two of you bonded over how absurd you thought that Pyrrha and I were being.”

“You were being pretty ridiculous,” Sunset muttered. “This … all of this, it’s why Salem stepped in, isn’t it? She saved you because you’re the Fall Maiden, and she was worried that if you died then … the powers would have passed to Pyrrha.”

“Mmm,” Cinder murmured. “Something like that. A great missed opportunity for her, wouldn’t you say?”

Sunset didn’t respond to that. She wasn’t certain how she ought to respond to that. On the one hand, Cinder was absolutely right; it was a missed opportunity for Pyrrha to … to ascend, for want of a better word, to become … well, if she were going to ascend, then there was only one thing that she could become: an alicorn. Not literally, obviously, but that was the path that Sunset’s mind took; it could take no other road, for all that Maidens were not alicorns.

On the other hand … on the other hand, Maidens were not alicorns. If Pyrrha had triumphed over Cinder and taken her power, she would not have been renowned throughout the land: Pyrrha Nikos, Princess of … what? Victory? Battle? Love? Princess of Doing Silly Things to Get Your Confidence Back? No, that was a bit much for the common herd to cheer.

Anyway, the point was that that would not be Pyrrha’s fate, much as she might deserve it; instead, Pyrrha would … Pyrrha would live a life in hiding, knowing that if she emerged, she would be hunted for the rest of her days.

A missed opportunity … or a lucky escape?

“I … suppose that we don’t have as much in common as either of us originally thought,” Sunset admitted. “But … so what? It doesn’t change the fact that … I’m here because I want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Your exhaustion might disagree,” Sunset said. “Do the Maiden powers take that much out of you? Or is it whatever Salem did to you to connect you to the grimm?”

Cinder’s eyes opened. “How … I suppose I wasn’t being very subtle about it, was I? Still, I’m a little surprised you considered it possible.”

“A lot of things are possible once you start to believe in magic,” Sunset said. “Does it … hurt?”

“Being part grimm or being a Maiden?”

“Both. Either.”

Cinder sighed. Her breast heaved up and down. “Take a drink of water.”

Sunset looked from Cinder to the pool and back again.

“Is it clean?” she asked.

Cinder smiled. “This is an enchanted forest, Sunset; how else do you explain the fact that it is always fall and never winter? How else do you explain the fact that the leaves are always falling but the trees are never bare? Some magic lies upon this place, and that same magic which holds the trees in this kind of stasis keeps the water clean and drinkable to all the creatures who dwell here.”

Sunset had never heard that. “Do you know that for sure?”

“No, but what else makes sense?” Cinder asked. “Just drink the water. Please. I have a point to make.”

Sunset snorted. “Well, if you have a point to make, then how can I refuse?” Slowly, cautiously, she inched her way closer to the pool. She cupped her hands, and in those hands, she drew some water and raised it to her lips. It was cool and sweet. Very sweet. Amazingly sweet, in fact, maybe the freshest water that Sunset had tasted since coming to Remnant, and even in Equestria, there were places where the water was not so sweet as this. “It’s … it’s wonderful.”

“Is it?”

“You should know; you’ve been gulping it down.”

“I know,” Cinder said.

Sunset could feel the hairs on the back of her neck starting to prick. “But you didn’t feel a thing, did you?”

Cinder smiled. “I don’t taste, and I don’t remember taste. I could drink that water until the stream ran dry, and I’d barely even feel how cool it was. I hunger constantly, and yet, I can’t taste food. I eat it, I eat and I eat and I eat and … nothing. I thought that it might be … might be the grimm, so I tried to eat raw flesh that I bought from a butcher, because isn’t that what monsters eat? Turns out that not even that could sate my hunger. Blood was running down my mouth, and I couldn’t even feel it. I don’t even remember how it used to taste. You could … kiss me on the lips, and I wouldn’t feel that either.”

“You’ve tried,” Sunset asked, driven by a sense of morbid curiosity.

“Yes,” Cinder said. “Lightning was … confused, but understood that it was a purely transactional affair, and one that she should not speak of to anyone. In any case, I felt … nothing. I don’t feel, not anymore. Nothing but hunger and cold burning within me. Hunger, cold, and my pride in who and what I am and what I will do and what I am capable of. My pride is the only joy that I have left in this world.”

“Because of the grimm.”

“Actually, it got worse since I became the Fall Maiden,” Cinder said. “I know, you wouldn’t have thought so, would you?”

“It sounds…” Sunset trailed off. Cinder wasn’t the sort of person who would want pity, but pity was honestly what she felt. “It sounds terrible.”

“I do what I must.”

“For what?” Sunset asked. “What could be worth that? What could we worth allowing yourself to be turned into…”

Cinder smiled. “You can say it.”

“Turned into a monster,” Sunset said softly.

“Better a monster with power than a cockroach without, scurrying between the feet of great ones trying to survive,” Cinder said.

“I used to think so,” Sunset said. “Then I was shown a better way.”

Cinder snorted. “Friendship?”

“I don’t need people to fear me,” Sunset said, “because I know that there are people who love me.”

“Lucky you,” Cinder said. “Who’s going to love me?”

“Someone might, if you gave them the chance,” Sunset said. “Let me help you, Cinder.”

“I don’t need help from you or anybody else.”

“I don’t think even you can say that with a straight face.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Even if you really wanted to help me, you couldn’t. I’ve chosen my path.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t turn around,” Sunset said.

“I’m a human grimm; that puts me pretty far down the road.”

“There are magical powers I know of that can purge a person of any darkness,” Sunset said. “They have cleansed beings who were completely consumed by their own darkness, possessed so totally by evil forces that they weren’t the same people before, and yet, that darkness was banished like that.” She snappedflicked her fingers. “Getting the grimm out of you would be child’s play by comparison.”

Cinder paused. She was — she appeared to be — considering it. “And then what? I serve Ozpin like you?”

“He’s not so bad,” Sunset said, “but you don’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t have a choice,” Cinder said. “Haven’t you understood this yet, Sunset? This world is divided between two powers at war: Ozpin and Salem. You serve one, or you serve the other, and even if you don’t know that one of them exists and have no idea that the other is anything more than a headmaster, then that just means that you’re serving one or the other unwittingly. Look at us. I serve Salem, you serve Ozpin, we are standing on opposite sides of the war—”

“And yet, here we are,” Sunset said.

“Yes,” Cinder said. “Here we are because someone has presumed — someone has dared — to try and set up as a third player, and as a result, both of our masters have turned their ire upon this fool and sent us, their agents, to bring about their destruction. I’m the Fall Maiden. Neither of them will let me run loose on the board. If I don’t serve one, then I must serve the other, or they will come together to kill me, just as we have come together to destroy the upstart.”

“I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You’ll protect me?”

“I’ll take you somewhere neither of them can get to you,” Sunset said. “Somewhere utterly beyond their reach.”

Cinder stared at her, as if she were seeing Sunset for the first time. “Your home,” she whispered. “You’re talking about your home, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sunset said softly.

She knew that she was making a big promise here, and she also knew that Twilight and Celestia would both have every right to be furious with her for so much as offering this, whether or not Cinder accepted it, but she didn’t have time to write to Celestia via the diary and get her permission for this. Cinder was in front of her now. Sunset’s chance was now. And right here, right now, she would do what she thought was right, and Celestia would have to be content with that.

“You would hide me there?”

“I would hide you there, and heal you,” Sunset said, because surely the rainbow magic that Twilight had spoken of would be sufficient to this meagre task, even if no power in Remnant was. She reached out and took Cinder’s hands in her own “And then … and then I would stay with you, for as long as you needed me.”

Cinder stared at her. She looked at Sunset as though she’d sprouted an extra head. She gawped at Sunset as though … as though she’d turned into a unicorn right before her eyes. “You would … you would turn your back on your friends, on your dreams, abandon all of it … for me?”

“Yes,” Sunset whispered.

Cinder’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because maybe saving you is the most important thing that I could do in this world,” Sunset said, “and because you need my help more than anyone else in Remnant.”

“You would bind yourself to me — to me — for altruism?”

Sunset shook her head. “For your sake and for yours alone.”

Cinder looked away. She looked away, and she bowed her head, so that her long black hair fell down all around her face like a curtain, shielding it from Sunset’s gaze. Sunset couldn’t see her face, and so she couldn’t gauge Cinder’s reaction save by her voice.

Well, that and the fact that she feels the need to hide her face.

“Sunset,” Cinder said. “Nobody has … you’re the first person since … thank you. Thank you.” She climbed awkwardly and a little unsteadily to her feet. “No matter what happens between us, I will not forget one line of this; I will always remember this moment, this second.”

She looked at Sunset, and if Cinder had looked at Sunset just a moment ago as if she were seeing her for the first time, now Sunset felt as if, for the first time, she were not seeing Cinder Fall but Ashley, the little girl who had been cruelly ill-used by the world until it had made her cruel in turn.

There were tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said again, as soft as the gentlest breeze that ever lapped at Sunset’s face.

“You will thank me … but you will not come with me,” Sunset said quietly with a sinking feeling.

“The exile’s life is not for me.”

“But this life is?”

“We are what the world makes us,” Cinder said. “Perhaps … perhaps if I had met you sooner….” She trailed off. “You should go back. I’ll follow you in just a moment.”

“Cinder—”

“Thank you,” Cinder said.

She sounded grateful. She sounded so grateful. Sunset might not have believed that it was possible for her to sound so grateful … and yet, as she turned away, Sunset felt like nothing so much as a total failure.

Cinder didn’t watch Sunset depart. She turned away. She turned away and bowed her head and tried to get a grip on the roiling mass of feelings that swirled within her soul.

I’m sorry, Sunset; I must keep as I am. I have … chosen, and having chosen, I am fated to live with my choice; that is what it means to choose, after all: you don’t get to take it back because the choice isn’t everything you hoped it would be.

And yet, I am sorry, all the same.

She felt as though she had disappointed Sunset by her refusal, and for that … for that, she was sorry, and guilty.

I am a very poor friend to you, aren’t I? And yet, at this point, I very much doubt that there is anything I could do to make it up to you. I am … we are too far gone for that.

And yet, after everything that I have done, you offer me … all of yourself: life and dreams and honour?

What kind of world do you come from where that is how you respond to betrayal and injury?

“Oh brave new world, that has such people in it,” Cinder whispered.

And yet, there is no place for me in a new world, however brave it may be; I am a creature of this old world in all its faults; I am bound to it, even as the grimm are. Remnant monsters cannot survive in other worlds.

And yet, I am very grateful for your offer. It is…

Not even her parents had been willing to give up so much for her; her mother had died because she wasn’t even willing to give up her military career for the sake of her daughter, and her father…

No one had ever made her such an offer…

Oh brave new world.

And that … that was why she couldn’t accept. There were other reasons of course, but amongst them was the fact that … Sunset deserved better than to throw everything away for her.

But I will remember that you were willing.

I will not forget one line of this.

I will always remember.

Always.

Sunset returned to the others to find that one of the ancient stone gates had lowered into the floor, revealing a dirt track carving its way through the midst of the forest and the red-gold grass up a hill towards … well, they wouldn’t know that until they actually got up the hill, would they?

Sunset admired their handiwork, thrusting her hands into her pockets as she did so. “How did you manage that?”

“We found the key,” Pyrrha said. “Solving out the puzzle was a welcome distraction from … certain other aspects of our situation.” She swallowed. “Speaking of which…”

“I … I think we might be making progress,” Sunset said.

“Sunset—”

“I know,” Sunset said softly. “But if you’d been there to see…” Of course, she probably would never have shown that kind of vulnerability if Pyrrha had been there. “I don’t know, I just thought … I don’t know. What about communications?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “Unfortunately, we still can’t get hold of anyone at Beacon.”

Sunset hissed in distaste. “Okay then. It seems our path is clear.” She looked at the path in front of them, hemmed in by rising cliffs on either side. “Not least because it’s the only path around for now. But since we’re still here, we should try and make contact with that railway track again. Following it is still our best shot at finding answers.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I agree.”

“And so do I,” Cinder said.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder to see Cinder ambling towards them. She was definitely moving more slowly than she had done before; evidently, her strength had not totally returned, although she was doing a fairly good job of making her movements appear casual rather than driven by weakness.

And she could even be feigning to be weaker than she actually is so that we’ll let our guards down around her, and it’s hard work dealing with someone like this, isn’t it?

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Cinder said, the slightest smirk fluttering upon her lips. “Pyrrha.”

“Cinder,” Pyrrha said coolly.

Sunset gestured to the open gate. “We have a path. Is everybody ready?”

“Sure,” Ruby said.

“Yeah,” Jaune said.

“Alright then,” Sunset said. “Let’s move out.”

They climbed the hill. In the distance, they could see a spur of the north-south rail line running on an elevated section of track above the forest. It was not the main rail line that went all the way up to Cold Harbour; they were far too far to the east for that, if Sunset was any judge. No, that train was serving one of the more easterly settlements, like the mines at Lusitania or Mine Run. If all else failed in the way of calling for help, they could always try to follow that train line instead of the one that they were looking for.

That turned out to be unnecessary, for as they reached the top of the hill, the hill that turned out to be so high that they could see out over the tops of the trees all around them and behold the sea of red leaves like fiery clouds floating without support that was Forever Fall as seen from above, the four members of Team SAPR were disturbed by crackling in their ear pieces.

“Stude—--… this is … Team Sapphire, this is Professor Ozpin, can you hear me?”

“Professor Ozpin?” Pyrrha cried. “Yes, we can hear you, loud and … more or less clearly.”

“Hang on; I’ll try to adjust the frequency a little,” Professor Ozpin said as the crackling in his voice decreased noticeably. “How’s that?”

“Much better, Professor,” Sunset said.

“You have no idea how good it is to hear your voices again, Miss Shimmer, Miss Nikos. Miss Rose, Mister Arc, are you there?”

“I’m right here, Professor.”

“We all are,” Jaune said.

“Excellent,” Professor Ozpin said. “After we lost touch with you in Mountain Glenn, I began to fear the worst. Would it be too much trouble to ask where you are right now?”

“We’re in the Forever Fall,” Sunset said. “We’re not sure exactly where. One of the eastern spurs, bordering on the mountains.”

“'Forever Fall'? You are some distance from Mountain Glenn.”

“There was a collapse,” Sunset explained. “Someone demolished the Merlot building before we could get inside; we ended up in a series of tunnels beneath the building that we don’t think were part of the main city. We found a secret railway, and we followed it out all the way here, out of the mountains and into the forest.”

“I see,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Did you find any evidence of who might be responsible for all of this?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But we did find a lot of… I can only describe them as mutated grimm.”

“'Mutated'?” Professor Ozpin repeated. “Miss Shimmer, did you say 'mutated'?”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “They are … they’re green, or at least, they have green elements to them — green bones, green eyes, and they are larger than normal, but not in a way that suggests they’ve aged. It’s hard to describe, I’m afraid, but they were very tough, and there were lots of them. We also found evidence that, fairly recently, the rail line was being used to ship things — those cages that we found in the Emerald Forest — out of the city.”

“Where to?”

“We don’t know exactly. We haven’t found the other end of the line yet,” Sunset said. She didn’t mention — she didn’t see the need to mention — that they had temporarily lost the line itself. After all, it wasn’t like they weren’t going to find it again. Hopefully. She glanced at Cinder. I suppose I’ll have to bite this particular bullet. If I don’t, then Pyrrha might have some real reason to worry about me. “Uh, Professor Ozpin … strange grimm weren’t all we found down in Mountain Glenn.”

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer?”

“We aren’t the only ones interested in this mystery,” Sunset said. She felt as though she were writing an essay for Celestia on a tight deadline; she could feel herself starting to sweat. “Cinder Fall was sent by—”

“Yes, I think I know who would have sent Miss Fall,” Ozpin said, his voice sharpening into talons. “I should have guessed that abductions of grimm would draw her ire. May I ask what occurred between you and Miss Fall?”

Sunset’s mouth was very dry, and remained stubbornly so no matter how often she swallowed. “A truce,” she said. “We wouldn’t have made it out of the tunnel without her.”

“I see,” Professor Ozpin’s voice was such that, although it was hard to tell exactly how much he disapproved, it was nevertheless clear that he did not approve one bit. “As team leader in the field, you have operational authority, of course, especially with communications down.” But it’s not the choice that I would have made, was the unspoken subtext.

You might think differently if you were actually in my shoes, Sunset thought.

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I hope I don’t have to remind you all to keep your guard up.”

“No, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “We’re very aware of the need for vigilance.”

“I wonder who you could be talking about,” Cinder murmured.

Professor Ozpin sighed. “Miss Shimmer, all of you … I’m afraid that I must ask yet more of you. Although teams have started to return to school ahead of the Vytal Festival, you’re closest to the situation and your experiences have given you understanding that no briefing could replicate. In addition … the fact is that, even with teams returning to school, you are still one of the best teams that I have to hand. Can I ask you all to continue with this mission for awhile longer?”

Sunset glanced at Ruby, the one who had come the closest to injury or death thus far.

“You can count on us, professor,” Ruby said, before Sunset could say anything else.

“You are all far braver students than I deserve,” Professor Ozpin said. “I’ve managed to get a fix on your position now, and I’m going to remain on the line here with you. Keep me informed and stay safe.”

“We’ll do our best, Professor,” Jaune said.

They descended down the hill, passing beneath the tallest tree by far that any of them had ever seen in the Forever Fall or any other forest for that matter. Higher than the hill it rose, and its branches spread so far that no other tree could grow near, for the eves of this single great tree choked out all the sunlight and would let nothing else grow around it. It was the sort of tree beneath which all the world might come to dwell, and doubtless, that was why a sort of stone altar had been built beneath it, and all around it in its shadowed eaves lay ruins of some ancient kingdom past. As they passed through the darkness of the shadows cast by this great tree, the whole world seemed to quiet, as if this place still retained a memory of when it was a sacred space and insisted upon respect for that alone.

Then they passed beyond the tree, and further down the path, and all the noise of the world returned once again. They encountered two more of those mutated creeps, and shot them and watched them explode from a safe distance, before they found the railway line again.

They found it right as it came to its end before an ancient temple, not yet fallen into ruins despite its age, although time and tide and winds had worn away at whatever inscription might have been carved above the door, and the pictograms engraved upon the walls were weathered practically to nothing too.

Since the railway line came to an end right before the temple doors, it seemed a good enough idea to look inside the temple, and they were right to do so, for in that open space where once a throng of congregants might have gathered together in worship of some god instead had been piled stacks upon stacks of those Merlot cages that they had found in the Emerald Forest and which Blake and Weiss had found in Atlas.

Most of them were empty, but one or two contained a creep inside, and one a beowolf. One particularly large cage held a small ursa, looking squashed and cramped and even more miserable than its fellow grimm. No one had ever discovered the reason why the creatures of grimm did not do well in captivity, but it was nevertheless a truism that they did not and a truism that was being proven true in the case of all four monsters bound captive here: they were listless, they didn’t show the slightest reaction to the presence of prey, they let out pitiful mewling cries as they lay on the floor of their cages. They looked as if they wished to die more than anything else.

If they had not been creatures of grimm, and if they would not have killed Sunset or her friends sooner than anything else if they had been set free, then Sunset might have pitied them.

As it was, it was clear that Cinder did pity them, for she approached the nearest creep and placed her forehead and her fingertips against the transparent wall of the cage. “Oh, what have they done to you? What have they done to you?” A flash of anger crossed her face. “Who has done this? Whomever it is will feel my wrath.”

Ruby had already crossed the temple and was standing at the far door. “I don’t know who it is, but I think they might be on their way.”

The other members of the team — and Cinder — joined her at the rear entrance, which overlooked a river cutting through the forest. The remains of an ancient jetty rotted away hard by the temple doors, but a little further away, they could see a modern dock, modest in size but big enough for the stack of metallic shipping containers that sat in the midday sunshine, big enough for the crane that waited to lift said containers and big enough for the ship branded with the stylised M of the Merlot corporation that was sailing slowly into the dock even as they watched it cut through the dark water.

It was a long vessel, somewhat narrow for a cargo ship, but then, Sunset supposed it had to be to get through the inland waterways like this. It was probably quite a shallow draught too. Overall, the shape of it put her in mind of a knife. She could see no people on board, not even through the windows of the conning tower. It wouldn’t surprise Sunset if the vessel was entirely automated.

“Professor,” Sunset hissed, before she remembered that if the vessel was entirely automated, then there was nobody who could hear her anyway. She spoke up. “Professor Ozpin.”

“Yes, Miss Shimmer?”

“The railway led us to a port or a dock,” Sunset said. “A ship bearing the Merlot Industries logo is just docking now.”

“Merlot androids, Merlot cages, Merlot headquarters, Merlot vessel,” Ozpin said. “I didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence is becoming more and more unavoidable by the minute. Team Sapphire … since it appears that the only way we will unravel this mystery is to follow the thread placed before us all the way to the very end, I must ask … no, I must order you to board that ship before it concludes its business here and departs. If you do not, then we cannot say how long it will be before another vessel returns, if it ever does, and we will have lost our best chance at putting this matter to bed once and for all.”

“We understand,” Pyrrha said. “You can rely on us, Professor.”

“I do, and will continue to do so, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “I will try and keep a lock on your location and to provide backup if — or when — you should require it. All of you … come back safe.”

“I’ll make sure of that, Professor,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “I’m counting on it, Miss Shimmer.”

“What are we doing?” Cinder asked.

“We’re boarding the ship.”

“Well, of course we are,” Cinder said, with a smirk. “I’ve never been on a river cruise before.”

“Is everybody ready?” Sunset asked.

“Ready,” Jaune said.

“Good to go,” Ruby said.

“I am armed and well-prepared,” said Pyrrha.

“I’m always ready,” Cinder said.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Okay, then; let’s move!”

They broke cover from the temple and ran towards the waiting ship. That ship, when it had concluded its business, departed from the riverside wharf bearing not only several cargo containers, but also five stowaways: four huntsmen of Beacon Academy and Cinder Fall, agent of Salem … and the Fall Maiden.

Author's Note

The art is by Pockichi

Rewrite Notes: This chapter didn't get much in the way of changes, because if I do say so myself it was already pretty good. There were some little alterations, even to Sunset and Cinder's conversation, but preserved the core of it; the only big rework was Cinder's internal thoughts after the conversation, which preserved the spirit while changing the wording. Hopefully.

Prologue II: Scattered Points of Light

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

A Misplaced Word (New)

A Misplaced Word

The title of the book was Prison Journals by Rudi Antonio. It was a large volume, well-preserved despite its age, with a handsome black cover – evoking something of a feeling of a jail – and the title and author's name picked out in gold letters. Blake had never heard of the book or author before, but as her eyes lingered upon the words 'with a new introduction by Sienna Khan' picked out in the same gold as the title near the bottom of the cover, she knew that at least somebody had.

Blake knew that her erstwhile mistress had been a historian before joining her parents in devoting themselves fully to the cause of the White Fang; in quiet moments, when she was in a restive mood, Sienna would occasionally reminisce about her time in what she described as the gerontocracy of academia, enduring the racism of tenured professors old enough to remember when faunus had been slaves; Blake sometimes thought that Sienna Khan must have been exaggerating about that. It was a part of Sienna's past that was not a mystery to her, and yet, this was the first time that she had ever held a book in her hands that dated from her time as an academic; everything that she had read from the High Leader had been written later, after she had committed herself first to politics and then to violent struggle. The fact that this tome in her hands predated all of that dated the book, or at least this edition; it must have been from quite some time ago for anything Sienna Khan had to say about it to be 'new.'

As she sat in the lounge of the skydock, waiting for a Skybus headed for Beacon, Blake wasn't sure what she wanted to read more: the book itself or the introduction by her former leader.

I wonder what she sounded like, back in those days.

"You're staring at that book as though you'd like to set it on fire with your mind," Twilight observed as she settled down on the grey padded chair next to Blake.

Blake looked up – to where Sunset and Rainbow were engaged in animated conversation on the other side of the aisle – and then beside her into Twilight's face. "I'm sure that someone has a semblance that would let them do that," Blake observed, "but-"

"But that would be an awful way to treat an old book, so I hope they wouldn't use it," Twilight replied.

Blake managed a slight smile. "It would be a pretty poor way to treat a gift, too."

"All the same," Twilight said, "is everything okay?"

Blake showed her the book cover, her finger hovering near the point about an introduction from Sienna Khan.

Twilight frowned. "Sienna Khan; does that mean something to you?"

Blake's eyebrows rose. "She's the leader of the White Fang."

Twilight gasped. Her mouth formed an O of surprise. "Really?"

Blake nodded. "You really didn't know that?"

Twilight shook her head. "The White Fang are quite the mystery."

Or humans just don't care to discover the truth, Blake thought, but that was possibly a little unfair and certainly rather unkind; the White Fang as a political group had become a marginal force long before her father stepped down and retired to Menagerie, and since assuming the role of High Leader, Sienna had done nothing to elevate her public profile. 'The cause is what matters, not my reputation,' she had been wont to say, before adding wryly that if nobody knew who she was, then it was harder for Atlas to order her assassination.

Adam, of course, had disagreed, both in the matter of holding his fame as the Sword of the Faunus of great import to himself and also in relishing in the notoriety that he enjoyed amongst their enemies, the terror that he inspired across all four kingdoms.

Of course, Adam never had any fear of death, at least none that he would allow even Blake to see.

"I'm a little surprised," she said, "that you haven't pumped me for information yet."

"What do you think you still know?" Twilight asked. "I mean, no offence, but you're a defector; the moment you left they would have moved their safehouses, changed their passwords, taken precautions against you… against you…"

"Against me deciding to betray my cause," Blake murmured.

Twilight's eyes were wide with concern as she reached out and placed a hand upon Blake's arm. "You didn't betray anyone until you were betrayed by the White Fang first; you kept all of their secrets until you were exposed."

"I went down to the docks before I was exposed," Blake pointed out.

Twilight hesitated. "True," she said. "But even so, you kept their secrets. And… all the more reason for them to take precautions about you leaking any information; the fact remains, any specifics you know are probably worthless now."

"Yet I'm not worthless to you," Blake replied.

"You're much more than a source of intelligence to us," Twilight assured her.

"Hmm," Blake murmured. "I'm…" she trailed off, her eyes flickering to Rainbow Dash across the aisle. "What am I to her?"

"A friend," Twilight said. "It's a great place to be." She smiled. "Nowhere safer, I guarantee it."

"I didn't exactly come to Beacon looking for safety," Blake informed her, "and I don't think that I'd go back there looking for safety, either."

"No, I suppose you didn't," Twilight said. She pushed her glasses back up her nose. "It's entirely your decision, obviously, but Rainbow wouldn't be asking you to come to Atlas if she didn't want you there, and she wouldn't ask if she didn't think it would be good for you. Rainbow… Rainbow thinks you need a cause."

Blake snorted. "Rainbow might be right," she admitted. "Of course, if Ruby were here, then she'd say that, for a huntress, serving humanity is the cause."

"I'm sure it is," Twilight agreed. "But a lonely one for most huntresses."

"And in Atlas, you're never alone?" Blake asked wryly.

Twilight chuckled. "If you really want more of the sales pitch, you should go over and talk to Rainbow Dash. I'm just explaining why she wants you, and maybe… maybe telling you not to dismiss the idea out of hand. And not to dismiss Rainbow's ideas out of hand, either."

Blake raised the book. "Is that what this is about?"

"He was a Mistralian faunus," Twilight explained. "He was elected to the Mistral Council, not too long after the Great War, but he was arrested and imprisoned for… for the rest of his life. And while he was in prison, he wrote."

"About what?"

"Everything, as I understand it," Twilight said. "Philosophy, history, politics… he advocated for a march through institutions as a solution to the question of how to obtain equal rights for the faunus." She paused. “It was an approach that… fell out of fashion compared to more activist ways of… attacking the problem.”

“Literally,” Blake muttered.

“I got it for you,” Twilight went on, “because I wanted you to see that Rainbow isn’t just being naïve, or making excuses for her loyalty to Atlas; incredibly intelligent faunus have thought deeply about these issues and come to the same conclusions.”

“Has Rainbow read this?” Blake asked.

Twilight couldn’t quite stop herself from smiling. “No,” she said. “I love Rainbow Dash, but I’m not sure she’d have the patience to get through this.”

“But you introduced her to the ideas?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not until after she’d already had them. She came up with the basics all on her own.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Twilight nodded. “The way I remember, we were lying awake one night, and Rainbow had been staring up at the ceiling for a little bit when she said ‘You know, Twi, if we had some faunus senior officers, I bet things would be a lot better for all the faunus.’”

“Somehow, I suspect that’s a simplification of the arguments in here,” Blake said dryly.

“Oh, of course, but it’s a start, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” Blake conceded, “but it’s still a start that I don’t know if I want to be a part of.”

“I can understand that,” Twilight said. “We’re still asking you to take a great deal about Atlas on trust, with only a handful of people to really illustrate what the kingdom is like. And that’s after all the trouble you had with Rainbow Dash earlier in the year.”

“I’ve forgiven her for that,” Blake said, “but it did demonstrate to me the problem of making rash judgements and assuming groups to be heterogeneous. If I take you as the average of what Atlas is like, then I’d be making the same mistake from a different perspective.”

“Well, there are a lot more Atlas students around than just Team Rosepetal now,” Twilight said. “So you could get to know a lot more, different Atlas students if you wanted to?” She smiled. “Of course, you’d have to be actively considering Rainbow’s offer for there to be any point to that.”

Blake didn’t reply. Was she considering it? Ought she to be considering it? It seemed absurd that she was even contemplating a move like this. This was Atlas they were talking about: Atlas the cruel, Atlas the relentless, Atlas the city from which the blood of faunus dripped down upon the earth. Atlas of the SDC, Atlas of the military, Atlas that was all the evil in the world, the great enemy of faunus rights and of all faunus kind.

And yet, she was – almost in spite of herself – actually considering it. A part of her rebelled against the fact, but when Blake looked inside herself, she couldn’t deny the fact that she really was thinking about it.

Not because of the toys or the technology but because… because Rainbow was right about one thing: Blake did need a cause. It wasn’t enough for her to just fight to survive; she didn’t fight for her own glory like Sunset, she couldn’t devote herself to some – no offence – vague idea of service to humanity like Ruby or Pyrrha. She needed to be working towards something, something important, something that mattered, something that she could look at and say ‘yes, I did that.’

I helped with that, Blake mentally corrected herself. It was arrogant to assume that she could or needed to do everything on her own.

But it was an arrogance that had a hold on her, like a leech with its teeth in her skin. She couldn’t seem to shake it off.

Atlas was attractive for that reason, after she’d been shown that not all Atlesians were terrible people and that faunus could lead reasonable lives there. Some of them at least.

But still… it was Atlas. A place she still knew little about.

She didn’t know. She just didn’t know. She’d wanted to go to Beacon; she hadn’t just chosen it because it was in the same kingdom as she was or even because Vale enjoyed a reputation for tolerance. She’d chosen it because it was the best, and she’d hoped that it would make her the best version of herself.

In spite of what had happened, did she really want to forsake that? To turn her back on it, and all for what? For northern dreams? For a promise of something that might never materialise? For the enthusiasm of a true believer?

And if she had to spend the next four years – or however long was left once the Atlesians were through with her – as an honorary member of Team SAPR, well… there were worse fates.

If Blake might be permitted, in the privacy of her own head, to use an animal metaphor: the collar didn’t chafe as much as she’d been worried it might, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to go back to the kennel.

Not definitely, at least; not yet.

“I’m sorry that we couldn’t find anything out about Tukson,” Twilight said softly.

Blake pursed her lips together. At the hospital, she had learned that Tukson had been recently discharged, but they had not been able to tell her – either because they didn’t know or because they weren’t authorised to tell Blake – where he had been discharged to; they had swung by the shop to find the place boarded up, with a sign stating that it was closed with no indication when – or if – it would ever reopen. And of course, his scroll had been disconnected.

It had occurred to Blake that he might have been spirited away into witness protection for his own safety; if that was the case, then she wished him all the best… but she wished that she’d gotten the chance to say goodbye.

She sighed. “At least they told me that he walked out of hospital on his own two feet,” she said. “At least I know that he’s okay.”

Twilight nodded, if only slightly. “You know, I’m sure that if I talked to General, then he could find out-”

“No,” Blake said. “That’s kind of you to offer, but you don’t have to do that.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Twilight said.

“It’s probably for the best if I don’t know,” Blake replied. “Nobody’s supposed to know, isn’t that how it works? And besides, even if I did know… I couldn’t go and see him, or I’d risk drawing attention to him.”

“But don’t you want to see him again?”

“That doesn’t mean that he needs to see me again,” Blake said. “I brought Tukson nothing but trouble; in the end, I even brought Adam to his door. It’s best that… I hope he’s happy, wherever he is.”

The doors into the skydock lounge slid open, and Ruby and Penny both came bouncing through, accompanied by Ciel.

Twilight had actually gotten Sunset two books, one of which was a little bigger than the other. The first, and larger of the two, was called Prophet Narratives: Choosing and Power in the Religions of Remnant; it had a very striking cover depicting a woman in blue robes getting smote on the breast by a bolt of lightning hurled from out of a cloud – hurled by who, it didn’t say. It was not a new illustration – a look at the back revealed it to be a painting by someone Sunset had never heard of, but then she’d never heard of any of this until Twilight had brought it up to her. The book had no author, since it was a collection of traditional stories, but was noted as being collected by one Oswald Oakenshaft; Sunset had never heard of him either, but a quick look at the back of the book had provided her with a limited degree of enlightenment: not much was known about the man except that he had enjoyed a sinecure from the crown of Vale in the time of King Athelstan Whitebeard, two or three generations before the Great War, and he had used the income to spend his life apparently pulling together this book, considering he had no other accomplishments to his name.

The current edition – or the edition that she was holding in her hands, at least – had been published by a small press somewhere in Vale; Sunset doubted that many copies had been produced.

The same press had also published the other book that Sunset was holding in her hands: Red Queens, a book that had neither author nor collector identified but which Twilight had insisted had to be read in conjunction with the prophet book; they formed, according to her, two halves of a narrative of decline and fall, a statement which she claimed would make sense once Sunset had done the reading.

Sunset didn’t blame her for being cryptic; she had asked for reading material, not a story; she wanted to be free to make her own judgements about what she was reading – and take notes – without Twilight’s interpretation getting in the way.

After all, Twilight only hoped and believed that magic existed – or had until she had learned Sunset’s secret; Sunset knew full well that magic existed and understood a fair bit about how it worked, so it was likely she would pick up on things that Twilight had missed.

She hoped so, anyway; it might be that all magic in Remnant was as alien to her as Ruby’s silver eyes – something Sunset hadn’t quite had the nerve to mention to Twilight, if only because she wasn’t sure that Ruby or Pyrrha would appreciate her giving out Ruby’s secret to just anybody – but she doubted it. Twilight’s description of her magical rescuer sounded very much like the sort of thing that an alicorn could have done; although, if all wielders of magic in Remnant were on par with alicorns, then Sunset might be in a bit of trouble if she ever met one.

And if they existed, then she did mean to meet one, if only to find out where they got their power from.

“Prophets, huh?” Rainbow asked from where she sat down next to Sunset in the lounge of the skydock. They were having to wait a little bit for a Skybus to arrive. “Twilight told you that she believes in…”

“Magic?” Sunset suggested.

“Mhm,” Rainbow murmured. “Do you believe it?”

Does the eagle believe that it can fly? “Yes,” Sunset said. “It surprised me when Twilight told me you don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s supposed to be your friend.”

“Twilight is my friend,” Rainbow replied loudly. “It doesn’t mean that I have to think everything that she thinks, believe everything that she believes.”

“You’re also friends with Pinkie Pie,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah, and you show me one thing in one of those books that sounds anything like what Pinkie can do, and I’ll agree with you it’s magic,” Rainbow challenged her. “Twilight says that you can look back in these old stories and see that there are lots of things that keep coming around over and over again. And she’s right; they are all full of the same stuff.”

“You’ve read them?” Sunset asked in astonishment.

Rainbow nodded. “The Red Queen book is pretty cool, full of heroes and villains and fights… although I did have to get Twilight to tell me what half the words meant. But the fact that a lot of the same stuff keeps coming up doesn’t mean that it’s true; it just means that the people who came up with this stuff didn’t have a lot of ideas of their own.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because if there really are people who have amazing powers like that, then where are they?” Rainbow demanded. “Twilight thinks that they’re still out there, but where? I’ve never seen them.”

“Twilight has,” Sunset pointed out.

“Twilight thinks that she has,” Rainbow replied. “Did she tell you she took a pretty bad bang on the head?”

“She told me that she was in a car crash,” Sunset answered.

Rainbow leaned forward in her seat. “Listen, I am beyond glad that Twilight survived that, and I don’t pretend to know what happened on the road that day, but I know that a flying woman with white hair didn’t come out of nowhere and kill all the grimm by shooting lightning out of her hands.”

“Again, why so sure?”

“Because, again, why did she only do it once?” Rainbow demanded. “I love Twilight, but why did she get to be saved when nobody else does? Why come out for one person and not for others?”

“Twilight says there are others,” Sunset replied.

“A few, but that doesn’t change my point,” Rainbow insisted. “If there are people out there with… with magic powers, then why don’t they use them? It’s game time, come on, get off the bench.”

“Maybe they’re afraid of being discovered?” Sunset suggested, thinking about Pyrrha’s nervousness around Ruby’s eyes and what would happen to Ruby if the secret of those eyes became widespread.

“So they’d rather let people die, come on!” Rainbow snapped. “What is this, a gloomy superhero movie?”

“This is nobody’s story but ours,” Sunset declared, clenching one hand into a fist. “But not everyone can be Ruby or Pyrrha or even you for that matter. Just because someone has power is no guarantee that they’ll be minded to use it for the greater good. Or even to use it at all. Some people just don’t have the guts for the fight. Some people aren’t suited for it. Would you want Fluttershy out on the front lines just because she had magic?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rainbow said instantly. “But if Fluttershy did have power like that, she wouldn’t just hide in a hole so that nobody knew existed. She’d… I don’t know exactly what she’d do because I don’t know what her magic would do, but she’d do something, even if it was just like magically healing animals or something.”

Sunset shrugged. “Like I said, not everyone has that kind of spirit.”

“But no one has it?” Rainbow replied. “Nobody, out of all the people who have ever had these special powers, nobody has wanted to do anything with them? Everyone who's ever had them has been too afraid of being found out to ever show their powers? I don’t buy it. I don’t buy that people are like that. I just… I don’t buy it.”

Sunset could see Rainbow’s point. She knew that the Atlesian girl was wrong – there was at least one form of magic in the world that had not come from Equestria – but at the same time, that very wrongness proved Rainbow Dash partly right, because Summer Rose had used her powers; she had not been more afraid of her gift being discovered than of the cost of not using them.

But at the same time, Summer had not been discovered; her silver eyes remained, for the most part, a secret.

“Maybe they have used their gift, but… subtly,” Sunset suggested. “In ways that didn’t attract attention.”

“Or maybe it’s all a great story but one that doesn’t mean anything,” Rainbow said. “Why do you want to believe in this so much?”

“Why do you want to steal Blake so much?”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not stealing Blake; who would I even be stealing her from?” Rainbow answered her own question a moment later. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Sunset brushed her trousers idly with one hand. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said quietly, looking somewhere else.

Rainbow snorted. “I really do think Blake would do great in Atlas. I really believe she’d be better off there than here.”

“You think everyone would be better off at Atlas.”

“I don’t think you’d be better off at Atlas; you couldn’t cut it.”

“What do you mean I 'couldn’t cut it'?”

“You don’t have the discipline,” Rainbow explained.

“You think that Blake has discipline?” Sunset asked, her eyes boggling.

“I think she could have, which is more than I could say about you,” Rainbow replied. She folded her arms across her chest, even as she crossed one leg over the other knee. “Do you honestly think that being an ordinary huntress will be enough for someone like Blake?”

“You say that like there’s some shame in being an ordinary huntress,” Sunset muttered.

“No, I didn’t,” Rainbow said sharply. “What I mean is… huntsmen and huntresses from the other kingdoms defend the status quad-”

“Quo.”

“Huh?”

“Status quo, not status quad.”

“Whatever,” Rainbow said. “The point is that they defend it. They defend the kingdoms, they defend villages, they defend whoever pays them, and that’s fine, but there’s no way that that will be enough for Blake. Blake wants to change the world, and she’ll be able to do that as an Atlesian officer.”

“How much world-changing does the average Atlesian officer get up to?” Sunset asked.

“Well… not much, on average,” Rainbow admitted. “But Blake’s not going to be an average officer; she already knows General Ironwood, and she’s got time to get to know him even better, see what a good man he is, how trustworthy he is.” She paused. “I’d put my life in his hands a hundred times over before I’d do the same for your Professor Ozpin.”

Sunset snorted. “I actually agree with you on that, and I’ve never even met your general.”

“You don’t trust the headmaster?”

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah, but he’s your headmaster; if you don’t have any faith in the guy, then what are you still doing here?”

“I have faith in myself and my team. I don’t need to believe in Professor Ozpin or his reputation,” Sunset insisted. “He knows more than he lets on. He plays games with us.”

“You got that right,” Rainbow muttered. “He knew about Blake all along; he knew everything. Just because it all worked out in the end doesn’t mean that… I mean…”

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “I know exactly what you mean.” She fell silent, albeit only very briefly. “I suppose that I’d like to believe it,” she said, after a moment, “because I’d like to believe that there’s some wonder left in what is kind of a grim world.”

“I wouldn’t like to believe that everyone who's ever lucked into power put themselves ahead of everyone else,” Rainbow replied.

“And I wouldn’t like to lose Blake,” Sunset admitted. “Not even to another team, certainly not to Atlas, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ve gotten pretty lucky that way,” Rainbow said, with exaggerated mock casualness.

Sunset huffed. “Of course you have.”

The doors into the Skydock slid open, and Ruby and Penny bounced in excitedly, chattering to one another so quickly that their words became lost in a blur as they spoke over one another; Sunset wondered how they could possibly understand what the other was saying.

Ciel followed a couple of steps behind, moving at a more controlled and graceful pace.

“And that bit when Lady Jaye rescued the Councillors like wam-bam!”

“And then Roadblock took out Kobra Commander’s airship with a single shot to the engine!”

“That was an impressive piece of marksmanship,” Ciel agreed. She was the first to notice Sunset and the others. “Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Hey, Ciel,” Rainbow said, grinning. “Ruby, Penny.”

“Greetings, everyone!” Penny said, waving enthusiastically. “Ruby and Ciel and I just got back from seeing the best movie ever!”

“Let’s not be hyperbolic,” Ciel murmured.

“Yeah, it was pretty great, but it still would have been better if we could have gotten to see Grimm 3,” Ruby said.

“You like the Grimm series?” Rainbow demanded. “The second movie made the Atlesian soldiers out to be totally incompetent.”

“They weren’t incompetent; they were just caught by surprise,” Ruby replied.

“When the grimm attacked in the reactor complex, half of them shot one another!”

“Calm down, for goodness’ sake; it’s just a movie,” Sunset said.

“It’s bad enough that everyone thinks that we’re a bunch of robots, but everytime we’re not, we’re absolutely useless,” Rainbow griped. “It’s really annoying.”

“I feel your pain,” Sunset remarked dryly.

“What movie did you actually go and see?” Twilight said pointedly, glancing at Rainbow from over the top of her spectacles.

“Real Atlesian Hero: Retaliation,” Penny announced.

“There, you see,” Twilight said. “A nice action movie with no Atlesian incompetence in sight.”

“Unless you count the fact that the entire Council had been replaced by Kobra agents and nobody noticed,” Ciel pointed out.

Twilight sighed. “This is why I only take you to watch cartoons with me,” she told Rainbow Dash.

“But it was rather enjoyable nonsense,” Ciel added, “and Penny had a good time.”

“I certainly did!” Penny cried. “It was so exciting, and it all seemed so real, and Ruby Roundhouse is so cool!”

“Yeah, she is pretty cool,” Rainbow agreed. “It’s a shame they couldn’t get her to play Daring Do; she’d have been great at it.”

“I thought Chestnut Magnifico did a pretty good job,” Twilight said.

“She didn’t have the physicality,” Rainbow argued.

“Ruby Roundhouse has arms like mine,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, but she moves like she knows what she’s doing,” Rainbow said. “Chestnut doesn’t quite have that.”

“What are you talking about?” Penny asked.

“Daring Do, Penny; we’ll have to show you those films some time,” Rainbow said.

“But didn’t you just say you didn’t like the actress?” Penny asked.

Rainbow shook her head. “She wasn’t bad; I just think that it could have been better. Still, classic films based on great books; they just… could have done with someone… someone with muscles like Pyrrha.”

“Pyrrha would be a terrible actress,” Sunset said.

“What makes you say that?” Penny asked. “She’s really pretty, and she knows how to make fights look epic!”

“True and true, but I don’t think she could act,” Sunset explained.

“She has spent half her life in the public eye,” Ciel pointed out. “Some might call that a performance far more demanding than short bursts on a film set.”

“That may be so,” Blake allowed, “but judging by the way that she feels about that performance, it’s probably safe to say that she wouldn’t enjoy acting.”

“And hence, she wouldn’t be good at it,” Sunset declared.

“Oh, hello, everyone,” Pyrrha said as she and Jaune walked into the lounge. Both of them had their arms full with brown paper bags, out of which various groceries were starting to protrude into view.

“Pyrrha!” Penny cried. “We were just talking about you!”

“Penny,” Ciel said softly, as she crossed the lounge to sit down next to Rainbow Dash. “That is not something one says.”

“Not even if it’s true?” Penny asked.

“Especially not if it’s true,” Ciel informed her.

“That only holds if you’re saying stuff behind somebody’s back,” Sunset countered. To Pyrrha, who was looking a little apprehensive, she added, “We were just pondering whether you’d be a good actress.”

“We agree you have the looks for it,” Blake murmured.

Pyrrha let out a little nervous laugh as her cheeks reddened. “Well, that… that’s very kind of you, but I’m afraid that I’ve no desire to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“Haven’t you done that already?” Blake asked. “Isn’t tournament fighting just performing in front of a crowd?”

“More than I would like,” Pyrrha conceded, “but there is an undeniable element of skill to it as well, and besides, I’ve given up tournament fighting.”

Penny sighed dreamily. “I wonder what it’s like to be a star, to know that hundreds of thousands of people are going to rush to see you.”

“Are they seeing them or seeing the characters they play?” Pyrrha asked.

“It’s the stars, isn’t it?” Jaune said. “I mean, that’s why they get paid the big lien, right?”

“You would think,” Ciel observed, “but many industry insiders believe that the era of the traditional movie star is coming to an end as audiences narrow their attention to a few tentpole franchises based on well-known intellectual properties.”

Everyone stared at her.

Ciel looked at them. “What?” she asked evenly.

Twilight cleared her throat. “Anyway,” she said, “Pyrrha, Jaune, where have you guys come from?”

“Shopping, by the looks of it,” Sunset said.

Jaune laughed. “Yeah, we did pick up a few things on our way back, but only after we’d gotten back from the ice rink.”

Sunset’s ears pricked up. “'The ice rink'?”

“As it turns out,” Pyrrha said, “Jaune is very graceful.”

Ruby grinned. “So you guys finally went on your first date?”

Pyrrha chuckled, “I suppose we did, yes. It was…” – she glanced at Jaune, a soft smile playing across her face – “wonderful. For me, anyway; I’m not sure how much fun I was to watch flailing about on the ice.”

“I don’t know, that sounds like it could have been fun,” Sunset said.

“You weren’t that bad, Pyrrha,” Jaune assured her. “You did pretty well for your first time.”

“That was because I was using my semblance to adjust the movements of my skates,” Pyrrha confessed. “Not something I’m particularly proud of, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself too much on, well, on our first date.”

“But you did have a good time, right?” Jaune asked solicitously.

“Oh, of course,” Pyrrha assured him, as she sat down next to Sunset. “You were quite the sight to see. Every day, you reveal more and more talents.”

Jaune took a seat beside her. “Our town, the place where I grew up, sits between a forest and a lake; it’s beautiful, the water is practically silver. In the summer, you can fish in it, but in the winter, it freezes over most years, and that’s when we go skating on it.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said fondly. “You’ve certainly learned well there; I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you.”

“I’m glad you two had a good time,” Sunset said, “but I don’t get why you went shopping afterwards.”

“Jaune’s going to teach me how to cook,” Pyrrha explained.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, but why?”

The groceries in the brown bags in Pyrrha’s arms rustled a little as she shrugged her shoulders. “I think that I should probably learn how to take care of myself if I don’t want to rely on my mother and my family.”

“You say that like you’ve been cut off,” Sunset said.

“I know that I haven’t been,” Pyrrha acknowledged, “but as I was saying to Jaune, it feels a little disingenuous to simply carry on as though nothing has happened between us.”

“Or you could just call her and put all of this behind you?” Sunset suggested.

Pyrrha sighed. “Please, let’s not have this conversation again, Sunset,” she begged. “Besides, what brought you into Vale?”

“Book shopping,” Sunset replied. “Twilight brought Blake and I some presents.”

“That sounds very kind of you, Twilight,” Pyrrha said.

“Just a few things I thought might interest them,” Twilight responded sheepishly.

Pyrrha leaned over slightly to get a better look at the books resting on Sunset’s lap. “What are they about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Magic.”

Ruby gasped. “You mean like my silver eyes?”

Rainbow’s ears twitched. “What’s this about Ruby’s eyes?”

Sunset twisted around in her seat. “I don’t suppose that I could say ‘nothing’ and you’d believe me?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “I really wouldn’t.”

Twilight frowned. “'Silver eyes'? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?” Sunset asked. The one kind of magic that we know for sure existed, and you’ve never heard of it?

“No,” Twilight replied. “That’s why I asked what Ruby was talking about?” She glanced at her. “Do you… do you have magic too?”

“'Too'?” Rainbow repeated. “Twi, what is this ‘too’? Did you find some proof of-?”

“You know what, this is not really a conversation to have in a skydock lounge while we wait for a ride home,” Sunset said quickly.

“Is it a conversation to have at all?” Pyrrha murmured. “Ruby, you don’t have to say anything.”

“I don’t mind,” Ruby said quietly. “I trust Team Rosepetal, and Blake; I mean, we’re all friends here, right?”

Pyrrha nodded gently. “If this is what you want,” she said.

“How about this?” Jaune said. “We go back to Beacon, I’ll make dinner – I’ll show Pyrrha how to make dinner – and then we can all meet up in our dorm room tonight and talk about all of this stuff. All nine of us. And we can celebrate a successful mission at the same time.”

“Do you want to celebrate a successful mission?” Pyrrha asked, a touch of anxiety creeping into her voice.

Jaune hesitated, but only briefly. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do. Even if it didn’t go perfectly, we still got the bad guy, and we all made it back in one piece, and it feels like something worth celebrating.”

“If we’re going to celebrate, then Sun should be there too,” Blake pointed out.

“True, but…” Sunset trailed off, unsure of how to wonder aloud if she trusted Sun with Ruby’s secrets, still less with her own. “Can he keep his mouth shut?”

Blake’s face assumed a pensive expression. “I… think so,” she said. “He wouldn’t deliberately betray anyone’s secrets, and… I’m not sure who it could accidentally slip out to at the moment.”

Sunset looked at Ruby. “It’s your call.”

“I trust Sun,” Ruby said quietly.

Sunset leaned back in her seat. “Then it looks like we’re having a room party.”

Green Eyes (New)

Green Eyes

Sunset’s scroll rang. She pulled it out of her jacket pocket and opened it up. The caller ID read ‘Lady Nikos.’

Even though she hadn’t answered the call yet, the knowledge of who was calling was enough to make Sunset get off Blake’s bed and rise to her feet on reflex.

Blake was the only other person in the dorm room with her; everyone else – on Team SAPR at least – was being either a hindrance or a help in the making of dinner, but Sunset had never cooked for herself in her entire life, and unlike Pyrrha, she had no intention of starting now. Blake seemed to feel the same way, because as Sunset’s scroll buzzed and vibrated in her hand, the princess of Menagerie was able to take a step towards her and crane her head to see who it was.

One black eyebrow rose. “'Lady Nikos'?” she asked.

“It’s Pyrrha’s mother,” Sunset said, as though it ought to have been obvious. It ought to have been obvious.

Blake’s other eyebrow rose to join the first.

“What?” Sunset demanded.

“You have Pyrrha’s mother down in your caller ID as ‘Lady Nikos,’” Blake observed.

“She’s the rightful Empress of Mistral; she deserves a little respect,” Sunset explained tersely.

If Blake’s eyebrows climbed much higher, they were going to disappear completely under her bangs; they were halfway to hidden already. “‘The rightful Empress’?” she repeated, disbelief suffusing her tone.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “If you want to debate my monarchism, then that’s fine, I’ll go some rhetorical rounds with you about it, but can you let me take this call first before my lady starts to think me insolent?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Blake muttered, not bothering to hide her sarcasm as she turned upon her high-heels and stalked casually out of the dorm room, shutting the door gently behind her.

Sunset tapped the green icon to accept the call. Instantly, the stern, stony face of Lady Nikos appeared on the screen.

Sunset cleared her throat. “I would wish my lady a good evening, save that I fear in Mistral it is already night; I would not expect you to call so late.”

“And I do not wish to inconvenience you by calling too early, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos replied.

Sunset inclined her head. “My lady’s courtesy is appreciated but unnecessary; to speak with you is never burdensome.”

The corners of Lady Nikos’ lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “There is a fine line, Miss Shimmer, between courtesy and toadying. The latter does not become you.”

“I hope humility becomes me at least a little, my lady, but I take your point and beg your pardon,” Sunset declared. “However, I speak true when I say that you could have called at a more convenient hour; I have not been preoccupied with anything important.”

“You did not have classes today?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “We did not, my lady,” she admitted. “We have-”

“Your mission was not completely free of mishap, then, necessitating some time to recuperate,” Lady Nikos observed.

Now it was Sunset’s turn to raise her eyebrows curiously. “You… the word of our mission has spread as far as Mistral?”

“Roman Torchwick, the terror of Vale, has been apprehended by Pyrrha Nikos,” Lady Nikos said. “Did you think that this news would not reach as far as Mistral?”

Of course she gets all the credit. “Pyrrha has done deeds worthy of a hero,” Sunset agreed diplomatically, “but the rest of us were… able to be of some assistance.”

Lady Nikos chuckled. “Your efforts to be humble are unnecessary, Miss Shimmer; you may be honest with me.”

“Then honestly, my lady, I say that Pyrrha has done great things,” Sunset said. “She destroyed an Atlesian war machine single-handed.”

“You mean with her semblance?” Lady Nikos asked.

“Yes, my lady.”

Lady Nikos’ brow, already wrinkled with age, acquired a few more wrinkles out of concern. “Has she begun to use it so recklessly, so frivolously?”

“I am not sure that it can be called either frivolous or reckless to use a semblance such as Pyrrha has been blessed with when confronted with a titan made of metal, my lady,” Sunset suggested.

Lady Nikos snorted. “Against some Atlesian toy, I would have hoped that Pyrrha’s native skill would have sufficed, or is the valour of Mistral fallen so far?”

“Say rather that Atlesian science has advanced so far, my lady, for these particular toys were far from child’s play to deal with,” Sunset insisted. “It took myself, Ruby, and some of our Atlesian allies to deal with one, while Pyrrha destroyed another, as I have told you, by herself.”

“At what cost?” Lady Nikos asked.

Sunset blinked. “I hope my lady does not think me too dull-witted when I say I do not take your meaning.”

“How many people now know of her semblance?” Lady Nikos asked, in a tone that did not quite become a demand but hovered upon the border of it like an army poised to invade.

Ah, now I understand. “Pyrrha’s own teammates and the students of an Atlesian team, Team Rosepetal.”

“You have mentioned Atlesians twice now,” Lady Nikos observed. “I understand it is quite unusual for any training mission to require two teams of students.”

Sunset mulled over her options. She could either say that to attempt the capture of Roman Torchwick was no small thing and that the school authorities had thought it wise to be cautious, or she could tell something a little closer to the official lie. She chuckled in what she hoped was a self-deprecating manner. “In point of fact, my lady, our mission was never to apprehend, or even to attempt the apprehension, of Roman Torchwick and his confederates; our mission was to protect a working crew making repairs to the rail line. When that was done, we found ourselves in the town of Cold Harbour, where we also found our Atlesian friends of Team Rosepetal and decided to travel back to Beacon together. We were both fortunate and unfortunate to be waylaid upon the journey.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said. “There are things you are not telling me, Miss Shimmer.”

“What makes my lady say so?”

“Because I am not an idiot, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said, her voice acquiring an edge of sharpness. “However, I trust your judgement in this matter, that you would not place Pyrrha in unnecessary danger.”

Sunset bowed her head once more. “I am grateful for my lady’s faith.”

“I am not so sure I trust either your or Pyrrha’s judgement in the matter of her semblance; does she use it openly now?”

“No, my lady, at least not in the sparring ring.”

“But in the field?” Lady Nikos pressed.

“Upon occasion, yes,” Sunset conceded.

“Pyrrha’s semblance is her hidden weapon,” Lady Nikos declared. “A concealed dagger that her enemies know not of. It should not be thrown around in grand displays where Atlesians can see it.”

“Team Rosepetal are to be trusted, if any are,” Sunset said.

“Trust is not the issue,” Lady Nikos said. “Today’s allies may become tomorrow’s enemies when the Vytal Festival begins. It is said that General Ironwood’s students have good mettle in them, for all that their headmaster is rather too in love with metal. Pyrrha may have need of her semblance to overcome them.”

“With…” Sunset trailed off, thinking better of saying ‘with all due respect.’ “My lady, I fear that Pyrrha aims at other things besides a crowning glory.”

“Did it take a great deal of effort for you not to say ‘higher things,’ Miss Shimmer?”

“No, my lady. I confess a Vytal crown glimmers yet in my imagination.”

“But not in Pyrrha’s?”

“I am not sure that she would not welcome it, but she does not esteem it the greatest prize to be won at Beacon.”

“No, that would be the detestable Mister Arc, I suppose.”

“I think it would be to do some act of great benefit to Remnant, such as she – as we – have done in our capture of Torchwick,” Sunset replied. “My lady, if I might advise you, if you were to reconcile yourself to Jaune, it would ease the path of reconciliation with Pyrrha.”

“They are still together, then?”

“If I may venture to say, my lady, they make a handsome pair.” Sunset paused. “If I may venture yet further to the cliff’s edge, Pyrrha will never reconcile with you if you are obstinate in this.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “Would she speak to me if I were to accept him, such as he is, and unworthy as he is?”

“In matters of the heart, my lady, I do not know that it is wise to talk of worth.”

“Would she speak to me, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset hesitated. “I fear she requires a little longer yet, my lady. I have urged her, more than once, but she… she, too, is obstinate.”

“Then I will continue to rely on you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “Please encourage her to limit the use of her semblance, especially in the presence of outsiders.”

“I will… mention it, my lady.”

“Much obliged to you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. She took pause a while. “And how are you?”

“I am well and content, my lady.”

“You may speak honestly,” Lady Nikos urged. “Especially since you have already admitted to me that your mission required some rest afterwards.”

Sunset sighed involuntarily. “Jaune… took a man’s life,” she said.

Lady Nikos was as still as any of the images of her ancestors that filled the garden of her great estate. “I cannot say I like the young man, but nevertheless, I would not wish that upon him,” she confessed. “It is a hard thing to do, and a hard thing, too, to comfort afterwards him who has done it.”

How many times did your husband return from the field in need of such comfort? Sunset wondered but did not ask, for it was not her place to do so. “I endeavoured to point him in the direction of one who could offer him more than comfort, and now…” She wasn’t sure if she ought to tell Lady Nikos that Jaune was getting therapy from Professor Goodwitch; some people had old-fashioned ideas about weakness, and Lady Nikos was nothing if not old fashioned.

“I see,” Lady Nikos said, her voice quiet. “I am glad that the task of comforting him does not fall on Pyrrha alone. And yourself?”

It was all that Sunset could do not to touch her wound. “I… took an injury, my lady.”

Lady Nikos’ green eyes narrowed. “I hope that my faith in you is not already being proven to be misplaced.”

Perhaps she ought to have taken that badly, but it made Sunset smile, at least a little. Even if it did have something of a grimace in it. “I… allowed myself to be struck, my lady.”

“For what purpose did you engage in such lunacy?”

“He – Adam Taurus, of the White Fang – has a sword through which he can absorb attacks without coming to harm,” Sunset explained. “I needed to bury his sword in something so that I could hit him without him being able to negate my assault.”

“And you thought your own flesh was the most suitable sheath for his blade?” Lady Nikos asked, a note of incredulity making her voice tremble. “Are you still in your wits?”

“Perhaps not, where Adam Taurus is concerned,” Sunset admitted. “But it would have been worth it, had I managed to kill him.”

“Why? Who is he to you?”

“He almost killed Ruby at the docks,” Sunset declared. “Now he has almost killed me. I do not mean that he should almost kill Pyrrha.”

“Ah, so it is revenge, I see,” Lady Nikos observed. “That is a duty strongly to be felt, indeed, and worthy of your courteous manner and courtly upbringing.”

“A rather unique reaction, if I may say, my lady.”

Lady Nikos snorted. “I do not say that it will bring you happiness or contentment; I have never had cause to seek bloody vengeance myself, but many are the tales we tell of it in Mistral, and whatever comfort it brings to the avenger seems cold at best. But nevertheless, it… I will not say it must be sought, but I will say that it speaks well of you that you seek after it. But if I may offer you a word of caution, Miss Shimmer?”

“I will receive it gladly, my lady.”

“As I say, we tell many stories of revenge in Mistral,” Lady Nikos said. “As oft as not, they lead the avenger to their grave. I would not have you be amongst their number.”

Sunset blinked rapidly. “Your concern…” She trailed off, and when she spoke again a little of her affect had fallen away. “I am touched, my lady,” she said quietly. “I swear that I do not intend to die in this endeavour.”

“I believe that you do not,” Lady Nikos agreed, “and so I trust that you will choose your path with wisdom, tempering the wrath of Pyrrha’s namesake with the prudence of Penelope. I put my faith in you, Miss Shimmer.”

“And I will be worthy of it, my lady.”

“And now I leave you to your evening,” Lady Nikos said. “Goodnight, Miss Shimmer.”

“Goodnight and farewell, my lady,” Sunset replied as Lady Nikos hung up the call.

Sunset sighed once more as she folded up her scroll and put it back in her pocket, and as she did so, she looked up and saw Pyrrha standing in the doorway, looking at her with green eyes wider than usual.

Sunset felt a coldness in her stomach and a dryness in her throat. “How… how much did you hear of that?”

Pyrrha walked inside and closed the door behind her. “Enough,” she said softly. “My mother trusts you a great deal.”

Sunset didn’t reply. Silence had fallen between the two of them like a rockslide closing up the mouth of a cave. She turned away from Pyrrha and wandered down the room towards the far wall, the wall where they had carved their initials on their first night at Beacon. Sunset held out her hand, and her stuffed unicorn flew into it. She grabbed it by the waist and squeezed it a little bit, glancing down at the glassy eyes and the eternally happy expression.

It was probably inevitable that they should reach this point; Sunset’s decision to take Lady Nikos’ money, to take her sword, to take her part and urge Pyrrha to reconcile with her mother… yes, she should have seen this coming.

Am I the Cadance here?

I hope not.

No, I’m not, because Celestia and I were happy before that interloper came into my life and ruined everything.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

Or rather, don’t, because this isn’t about me. This is about Pyrrha.

Sunset turned around, her grip on the stuffed unicorn loosening just a little. “So,” she said, with a slight sigh in her voice. “Are we going to do this now?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “Do… do we have to?”

“If the alternative is you brooding on how much you dislike me, then I’d rather we have a row and get it over with,” Sunset muttered.

“I don’t want to fight, Sunset,” Pyrrha said gently, “and I don’t dislike you, far from it.” She looked away, her eyes turning down towards her scarlet sash, the sash with which both of her gloved hands began to fiddle idly. “It… it might be easier if I did dislike you. My mother… she has approved of people before whom I did not like.”

“The man she wants you to marry?” Sunset guessed.

“Yes, Turnus is one such,” Pyrrha said. She frowned, marring her flawless skin with a momentary wrinkle. “Wants?”

“Hmm?”

“You used the present tense.”

“And you were listening,” Sunset pointed out. “You don’t need me to tell you what she said.”

“I didn’t hear everything,” Pyrrha replied.

“Right,” Sunset said softly. “Sorry. She is… still not entirely reconciled to Jaune, I fear.”

“I see,” Pyrrha whispered. Once more, she fell silent for a little while, her fingers continuing to play with the red sash. “As I said… as I was saying… it might be easier if I disliked you, but… but I don’t. Do you have any idea how hard it is knowing that your mother prefers your best friend to you?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose in spite of themselves. Her tail straightened out a little behind her. “I’m your best friend?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Who else would it be?”

“Jaune?” Sunset suggested.

“I love Jaune,” Pyrrha replied. “But… anyway, the point is that I’m very fond of you, and that… it means I can’t just dismiss my mother’s affection for you as evidence of her poor judgement, or at least of a judgement that is incompatible with my own.” She began to walk towards the window, until she was standing side on to Sunset, presenting her profile to her team leader as she leaned upon the windowsill. “A judgement that shines on you as… as it has never shone on me.”

“That’s not my fault,” Sunset said quietly.

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “But it is your nature. Though your name is Sunset, I sometimes think you are more like the rising sun, to which all the flowers turn and open up their petals.” A little melancholy laugh escaped her lips. “Perhaps I ought to thank you for leaving me Jaune.”

“You give yourself far too little credit,” Sunset declared. “Someone like Jaune could never love someone like me.” After all, I loved someone just like him once, and I lost him.

“You’re too kind.”

“I’m honest, when I have cause to be.”

“My mother would call herself honest too, but her honesty is not so kind,” Pyrrha replied. “She… she has never told me that she trusted me, the way that she put her trust in you.” Pyrrha sat down upon the window seat. “She has not armed me with one of the heirlooms of our house.”

“Soteria?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha nodded, although she still didn’t look at Sunset.

Sunset passed the stuffed unicorn from one hand to another. “Is it…? I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“You know that it was carried for my great-great grandfather at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns?”

“By a retainer,” Sunset countered. “It’s not like it’s your great-great grandfather’s sword that I’m carrying around slung across my back. Your mother gave me a bodyguard’s blade; there was a message there that I didn’t need to be a genius to see. At least, that is what I read into it. I think that is all that there should be read into it.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “it is a bodyguard’s blade. But it is a blade that was carried for the last Emperor in the last battle of the last war that Mistral waged as a great empire. With that sword, Achates cut down the Captain of the King’s Guard and his standard bearer before he aimed his stroke at the Last King himself. That sword may not have been wielded by any of my ancestors, but it has a history as storied and as noble as any in the possession of the House of Nikos. And my mother armed you with it.”

“To protect you, in the last resort,” Sunset insisted. “Not that you need it, but…”

“Even so,” Pyrrha murmured. “She armed you with it.”

“Do you want the sword?” Sunset asked. “Because…” She trailed off, because of course it wasn’t as simple as just giving Pyrrha the sword if she wanted it. The black blade had been given to Sunset by the Lady Nikos, the head of the family, bestowed upon her, Sunset, to wield, to give good account, to honour as best she could with further deeds to add to its story that was already so heroic. If she simply gave it away, like a common trinket, she would be saying that she esteemed this great gift little and valued the friendship of Lady Nikos as being of little account. She was not willing to do that, not even for Pyrrha’s sake.

And to be fair, I don’t think Pyrrha would ask me to be so discourteous.

“It’s the principle, isn’t it?” Sunset said.

Pyrrha nodded. “You understand what honour is done to you with such a weapon?”

“I do now,” Sunset replied. “Your mother… when she gave me the blade, she told me that it had been wielded in the Battle of the Four Sovereigns… and that Achates had fought against the Last King… I suppose she told me enough that I can hardly say I didn’t understand the import. She did not tell me who Achates had slain first, but… perhaps that hardly seemed relevant.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “Miló and Akoúo̱ are excellent weapons, and I would not trade them for any blade out of our family vault, but… I know that this isn’t your fault, and I ask you to forgive me, but… I hope you can understand that it isn’t always easy to look at you and see the daughter that my mother would rather have had.”

Sunset winced. Her ears drooped down towards her hair, and her tail drooped too, hanging listless down behind her. She threw away the stuffed unicorn, guiding it with telekinesis down onto the camp bed. “That,” she began, her voice a little hoarse, “that is-”

“Don’t say it isn’t true after you’ve just told me that you’re honest.”

“I said I’m sometimes honest,” Sunset reminded her. “But honestly, I think that you exaggerate.”

“Do I?” Pyrrha asked. “She gives you a sword out of our family’s treasury-”

“A retainer’s sword, for all its honour.”

“She gives you a stipend.”

“For dust and armour and other necessities; it’s not as though she’s written me a blank cheque,” Sunset replied. “I’m a better fighter because of the things I can buy thanks to your mother.”

“Don’t you think that Ruby and Jaune might also be better fighters if my mother were to offer them her financial support?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset felt that was a question which, far from behind rhetorical, deserved to be taken seriously. She folded her arms across her chest. “Ruby… Ruby doesn’t really need dust, although she could use dust rounds, I suppose. Jaune… he could afford some better armour instead of that amateur dramatics stuff he’s got on at the moment, I suppose. Could he use dust in his sword?”

Pyrrha nodded. “He could infuse the blade, as you’ve done with Soteria,” she said.

“You could buy dust for him if he can’t afford it himself,” Sunset pointed out. “Is he too poor to buy dust?”

“I… don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I haven’t… I don’t want to pry into his finances, in case… I’m worried that, with me being… would he take offence if I asked him how much-?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I doubt that there’s much that you could do that would offend Jaune, and I’m pretty sure that asking about money wouldn’t be one of them. Not the way you’re likely to ask, anyway.” She ventured a grin.

To her relief, Pyrrha smiled back. “That’s good to hear,” she acknowledged. “But the point is that my mother-”

“Isn’t invested in the prowess of the team, just in me,” Sunset finished.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha said. She looked out of the window once more, to where the sky without was beginning to grow dark. “And the worst part is… I can see why she prefers you. You’re ambitious, confident-”

“Overconfident, at times.”

“Proud.”

“Prickly.”

“There is no need for you to be so humble,” Pyrrha said. “The truth is, you are everything she would have wished for in an heir.”

“More fool her then, when she has you to be her heir,” Sunset replied. “Not only as skilled as a hero of old but as gracious as a princess to boot and as learned as a master of lore. I… I have a fire in my belly that you lack, maybe-”

“I don’t think there’s any ‘maybe’ about it, do you?” Pyrrha asked.

“But that is only because I want the things that you were born heir to,” Sunset insisted. “You don’t need to hunt after those things because you have them already: the glory, the reputation, the fame. All the things that I am ambitious for, you already possess, so why should you be ambitious?”

“My mother would have me be ambitious for further fame and other glories,” Pyrrha said, “but that is not what I desire.”

“Then why get so hung up that she favours one who does desire those things?” Sunset demanded.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather silly,” Pyrrha admitted. She got up and walked towards Sunset – and her own bed. “I’m sorry, Sunset.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Sunset assured her. “I get it.”

Pyrrha tilted her head ever so slightly. “You do?”

Sunset nodded. “There was a girl, in my teacher’s house,” she explained. “She arrived not long before… the final break between us. She was pretty – beautiful, even – graceful and gracious, kind and considerate, beloved by everyone who had cause to come into contact with her.” Sunset grinned. “You remind me of her, except that you’re also a great warrior on top of all that.”

A faint blush rose to Pyrrha’s cheeks. “Stop it, Sunset; you’re just trying to embarrass me.”

“No, I’m trying to say that… she was everything that was expected of someone in our exalted position, everything that I was not,” Sunset said. “I hated her.”

“I don’t hate you,” Pyrrha said.

“No, because you’re a better person than I am,” Sunset replied. “I… I don’t want you to start hating me. So if… if there’s anything that I can do-”

“No,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I mean… I’m aware that this might make it seem as though I’m complaining for the sake of it, but I don’t want you to give up my mother’s money, or Soteria. It wouldn’t be right for me to ask that of you merely for the sake of my own… concerns.”

“Then what do you want?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha sat down on her bed. “I don’t know,” she admitted, with a nervous laugh. “I suppose… I think… I don’t know. Perhaps I just wanted to let you know how I feel.”

Sunset took a couple of steps towards her and sat down next to Pyrrha on the bed. “I can understand that,” she murmured. She reached out and gently took hold of one of Pyrrha’s hands. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do,” Sunset said. “My relationship with your mother… I should have thought about how it would make you feel.” She paused. “I would offer to swear an oath to her as a retainer, but I fear my pride would not bear it.”

Pyrrha snorted. “No, I doubt it would. And besides, what kind of friend would I be if I demanded that you humble yourself like that to make me feel better?”

“What kind of friend have I been to make you feel like this?”

“I’m fine,” Pyrrha said.

“Clearly not.”

“…no,” Pyrrha conceded, after a moment. “But I… I can bear it. After all, I am the one who has turned my back upon my mother; what right do I have to complain that you have her trust and I do not? And I have Jaune, I have… I have so many things to be thankful for, it would churlish to obsess too much over this one thing.” She hesitated. “I will try to remember that in future.” Pyrrha glanced at Sunset. “Will you remind me of it, if I forget?”

“Remind you not to be upset at me? Yeah, I think I can do that,” Sunset agreed. She smirked. “I’ll also remind you to call your mother.”

Pyrrha sighed. “Not now, Sunset.”

To A Successful Mission (New)

To A Successful Mission

“Sunset,” Ruby cried. “What are you eating?”

Sunset blinked in surprise and ostentatiously studied the two slices of bread in her hand. “It’s a sandwich,” she announced flatly.

“It’s got nothing in it!” Ruby complained.

“Don’t be ridiculous; it’s got watercress and celery in it.”

“'Watercress and celery'!” Ruby repeated, her tone aghast. “That’s not a sandwich filling; that… that’s nothing. You’re eating an air sandwich!”

Sunset rolled her eyes and ignored Ruby’s opinion on her diet as she bit into the sandwich; the celery had a satisfying crunch as her teeth drove through the slices.

“I’m not altogether sure of Ruby’s motives for speaking out,” Twilight said softly, “but she does have a point. Did you know that celery is one of the only foods which consumes more energy to eat than you get back from consuming it?”

Sunset looked at her. “So… you’re saying that I’m losing weight by sitting here and eating this?”

“No,” Twilight said. “If you were only eating celery, that might be true, but bread definitely does not follow the same rule.”

“Pity,” Sunset commented dryly.

Rainbow snorted. “Concerned about your figure?”

Sunset raised one eyebrow in her direction. “Who wouldn’t want to look this good?”

“Get some muscle on your arms like me and Pyrrha, and then we can talk about looking good,” Rainbow bragged.

“You think you look better than me?” Sunset asked. She chuckled to herself as she took another bite out of her sandwich. “Dream on.”

“What, you think you’ve got something that I don’t?”

“I think that I’ve had a steady relationship and you haven’t,” Sunset said. And I didn’t get Flash on my winning personality.

Rainbow shook her head vigorously from side to side as she dug into her grilled cheese and meatball toastie. “I,” she declared, oblivious to the little bit of grilled cheese and meatball sauce dangling down the corner of her lip, “could get anyone I wanted to.”

“Oh yeah?” Sunset asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied, as Twilight dabbed at the corner of her lip with a napkin.

“Go on, then.”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “I… don’t want to,” she said as Sunset jeered at her.

“You are both idiots,” Blake muttered.

“Yeah, I mean, who eats celery without peanut butter?” Sun asked.

“I do,” Sunset said. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Sun replied. “I just think it’s weird.”

Sunset rolled her eyes and focussed on finishing off the remains of her sandwich.

In spite of the discussion, the tone in the dorm room was affable, friendly, and comfortable; in fact, it was only in that comfortable atmosphere that you could say the things that had been flying between Rainbow and Sunset without worrying about the kind of offence that would leave scars. She wouldn’t have brought up Flash in front of people she didn’t trust, for fear that they would use it against her; it would have been very easy for Rainbow to have pointed out that her long-term relationship ended in failure and social humiliation. But she didn’t, because there was a difference between banter and being a jackass, and they all knew each other well enough to stay on the right side of said line.

Mostly. Nobody really knew Sun that well, or not as well as they knew one another, but he was Blake’s boyfriend, and he had been on the train mission, and it would have been its own kind of jackassery to have excluded him just because he was a relative newcomer to the group.

Plus, the word was that his own team hadn’t taken kindly to him sneaking off to be with Blake, so it might possibly have been extra harsh to have excluded him from tonight.

And, again, he had been on the train mission, and as much as a part of tonight was about sharing secrets, it was also about celebrating an operation which, for all its flaws, had been a great success when taken in the round. It would have been churlish not to have included in their victory feast someone who had been there when they gained the victory.

The room was crowded, but not oppressively so; there was enough room for everybody: Sunset and Blake knelt cross-legged on Blake’s bed, that had been Sunset’s bed until she so generously gave it up; Sun sat on the floor beside the bed, his head almost but not quite in Blake’s lap; Pyrrha and Jaune sat side by side upon the window seat; while Ciel sat on Pyrrha’s bed in a fashion like a lady riding side-saddle upon a horse; Rainbow, Twilight, Ruby, and Penny sat on the floor, in two pairs on either side of the door; Ruby and Penny were closer to the bathroom, Rainbow and Twilight to the far wall where their initials were carved.

This disposition meant that there was space on the floor for the food and mostly room to reach it when you wanted more; the plates were paper, which combined with the food on offer to lend a festival air to proceedings as people moved back and forth across the room to refill plates that became progressively greasier and greasier until they became unusable and had to be exchanged for something else.

The levels of cooking ability across the two teams – and Sun – varied considerably: Jaune could add ‘good cook’ to his ever-growing list of talents to balance out his inexperience as a huntsman; Ruby had an old family cookie recipe, which was no less an old family recipe for having apparently originated with her mother; Blake knew a few things about how to cook and serve fish which had the carnivores amongst the company in raptures; Twilight had apologised that her cakes were not as good as Pinkie’s, but not as good as Pinkie’s was a high bar to fall short of; Pyrrha was inexperienced but eager to learn; on the other hand, Sunset had never cooked before and had no intention of starting now, and she had seen what happened the last time Rainbow tried to bake and was grateful that she hadn’t tried again.

It had to be said that a lot of the food didn’t particularly appeal to Sunset’s palate – the chicken pieces with that seasoning on some of it and that coating on the rest, the tuna in that pungent sauce, the meatball toasties, the sausage rolls – they all left her cold, and so, she left them well alone. But her friends were aware enough of her tastes that she was not devoid of things to eat besides the controversial watercress and celery sandwiches: there were cucumber sandwiches too, but there was homemade slaw, jacket potatoes, beans, macaroni, cookies, and cakes.

Yes, there was quite enough that Sunset didn’t feel as though she was missing out by not eating of the flesh of another living creature.

“So,” Blake began, “did anyone else in here know that Sunset was a monarchist?”

“You want to talk about this now?” Sunset demanded.

Blake shrugged. “We’re all here.”

Rainbow swallowed. “I didn’t know that,” she said, “but now that you’ve said it, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Penny asked.

“It… isn’t really good or bad, I think,” Ruby ventured. “It’s just… a little weird.”

“It is a little bad,” Pyrrha sighed, her face beginning to redden, “if this is going where I think it may be going.”

“Where is it going?” Twilight said. “What do you mean by ‘a monarchist’?”

“She called Pyrrha’s mother ‘the rightful Empress of Mistral,’” Blake said.

“Which she is,” Sunset insisted.

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, she isn’t.”

“The Emperor of Mistral laid down his crown at the end of the Great War, as did the King of Mantle and the Queen of Vacuo,” Ciel pointed out.

“The crown as a thing of gold, adorned with jewels, may be removed,” Sunset allowed. “It may be thrown away or melted down or laid at the feet of a greater conquering sovereign, but the crown, the weight of majesty of state, the royal rights and duties are not so lightly put aside.” Snatch Princess Celestia’s crown from off her head, tear the heavy necklace from around her throat, hurl her golden slippers into the fire, yet she will remain Princess Celestia. For a throne exists not only upon a dais in a palace, a crown is not just a gleaming diadem; throne and crown alike are forged and fashioned in the hearts of little ponies everywhere who accept – nay, who embrace – the princess as their sovereign.

And so it is in Remnant also. Though the race be changed, that remains the same.

“Are they not?” Ciel inquired. “It seems to me that the three kings did both, for none ruled in Mistral, Mantle, or Vacuo thereafter; they had not only laid aside their ornaments but their burdens too.”

“Let’s not pretend that they did it voluntarily,” Sunset replied. “They were forced to do by the King of Vale-”

“The King gave up his crown, too,” Pyrrha reminded Sunset. “Having established peace amongst all four nations and set up a system that would preserve that peace, he laid down his own crown and authority both and retired to the newly founded Beacon Academy.”

“Really?” Jaune said. “The King of Vale lived here?”

Pyrrha’s tone was fond as she said, “Jaune, he was the first Headmaster of the school. Doctor Oobleck covered that last semester.”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Thank you… for reminding me.” He laughed nervously. “No wonder I didn’t do so well on that test.”

“Yes, the King retired from the affairs of state and contented himself with the affairs of running the academy,” Sunset said, “while the four kingdoms were given over to lesser men.”

“Do you have to phrase it like that?” Blake asked.

Sunset looked at her. “That Mistralian historian you and Pyrrha have read described the period after the Great War as the world moving from a theatre of giants to a pantomime of dwarfs.”

“Yes, he did,” Blake said, “but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with him, and I don’t have to like hearing you say it. It sounds… wrong.”

“So the reason you wanted to talk about it is to convince me that I was wrong?” Sunset asked.

“You are wrong!” Blake insisted. “You can’t just talk about ‘lesser’ people as though you’re somehow different from the rest of them. You can’t just declare yourself better than everyone else-”

“Too late for that,” Rainbow muttered.

“I’m being serious!” Blake cried. “Pyrrha, I mean no offence, but your ancestor was a slaver. He kept my people as slaves. Why should someone like that, why should any one person, be allowed to rule over others, to make decisions that affect their lives and deaths? Why should so much power be bestowed upon someone who hasn’t earned it?”

“Because they do earn it, or they should,” Sunset said. “I admit that some of the kings and queens of the four kingdoms might have been a little less than perfect, but the ideal monarchy is so much grander and more glorious than even the ideal republic.”

“That’s because it is an ideal,” Blake said. “It doesn’t exist.”

“Ideals can exist,” Ciel declared. “Atlas is an ideal, a dream that we have conjured amongst the clouds and, with toil and hardship, made that dream a reality.”

“You might be working towards it,” Blake allowed, “but I’m not sure you’re there quite yet.”

“Okay, you want an example of a thing that exists?” Sunset demanded. “Pyrrha.”

“Please don’t bring me into this,” Pyrrha groaned.

“Pyrrha is training to become a huntress,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha is training so that she can defend her people; Pyrrha has defended her people against the karkadann when no other would.”

“That’s not very fair, Sunset; no one else could,” Ruby corrected. “Because they were all away. Not that you weren’t really brave, Pyrrha-”

“Believe me, Ruby, I quite understand what you’re saying.”

“Pyrrha behaved as the scion of a royal line ought,” Sunset asserted. “Meanwhile, what did the Councillors of Mistral do?”

“They asked Pyrrha to handle it,” Jaune said. “Do you think they should have gone out and fought it themselves?”

“Not necessarily, but come on, look at First Councillor Aris,” Sunset said. “She’s in power because she talks a good game and knows how to make lavish promises, but Ruby says that she starved the provinces of huntsmen for the longest time, and then when the White Fang started prowling around the city, she has done absolutely nothing to stop it. We in this room have done more to keep Vale safe than those who lead it.”

“That’s our job,” Ruby said. “Or at least it’s the job that we’re training for.”

“What is everybody talking about?” Penny asked. “I’m lost.”

“That makes two of us,” Sun admitted.

“Sunset doesn’t think that ordinary people should be able to decide who gets to be in charge,” Rainbow explained. “She’s wrong.”

“Am I?” Sunset asked.

“Yes,” Rainbow insisted. “Robyn Hill has never been elected to the Council; instead, we have people like Cadance and the General, good people, smart people. I’d rather have that than some motorbike racer be in charge just because of who his parents were. I know the system seems like it’s set up so that anyone can be successful, but real quality always finds a way to rise to the top.”

“I must confess that I am less sanguine about the political wisdom of the body politic,” Ciel said, “but in the interest of general harmony perhaps we ought to change the subject.”

“Oh, thank goodness for that,” Pyrrha groaned.

“I’m sorry, Pyrrha, I just…” Sunset trailed off. “I’m sorry. But I think what I think.”

“And what you think is…” Blake began.

Sunset frowned at her. “Go on.”

Blake shook her head. “No.”

“Go on,” Sunset insisted.

“Nobody wants to talk about this any more. I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Blake replied. “I should have known that it would spoil the mood.”

Silence descended in the dorm room.

Rainbow’s look passed through discomfort, travelled across guilt very swiftly, and then entered mischievous territory. “You know, the real reason Sunset doesn’t like voting comes down to the time she was voted ‘Biggest Meanie’ in the Combat School yearbook.”

Ruby snorted. “'Biggest Meanie'? You had a category for ‘Biggest Meanie’?”

“No, it wasn’t a real category,” Sunset hissed, “but that didn’t stop everyone from voting for me anyway. Every year.”

“What’s a yearbook?” Penny asked.

“It’s a book produced every year by Combat Schools,” Twilight explained. “Everyone has their picture inside, individually and with their class, and there are details about some of the clubs and sports teams; the upperclassmen get to answer to a few questions about their plans for the future, and all your friends sign the book so you can remember them after you graduate-”

“That all sounds wonderful.”

“And everyone votes for their fellow students to win superlative categories,” Twilight carried on. “Like 'Best Smile' or 'Class Clown' or 'Greatest and Powerfulest.'”

“Or 'Biggest Meanie,'” Sunset muttered.

“That last one doesn’t sound very nice,” Penny said.

“It wasn’t,” Sunset growled.

“You kind of deserved it,” Rainbow reminded her.

“Not every year, I didn’t,” Sunset snapped. “Not to mention, Flash and I ought to have been a shoo-in for Cutest Couple, but instead… you know, I can’t even remember who won Cutest Couple, they were that forgettable.”

“Oh, get over it,” Rainbow told her. “Everyone knows those awards don’t really mean anything.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sunset said. “You six got voted Best Friends every single year, and you were voted Most Likely to Succeed in your last year at Canterlot.”

Rainbow’s smile was unspeakably, unbearably smug.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha. “I bet you were voted Most Likely to Succeed when you graduated Sanctum, weren’t you? No, Most Likely to Succeed and Best All Around.”

Pyrrha mumbled something so quiet that Sunset, even with two extra ears, couldn’t make it out.

“What was that?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha’s face was flushed bright red. “And… Best Smile,” she confessed.

Sunset snorted. “Well, I won’t say that I can’t see it.”

“Twilight got that one,” Rainbow said, putting one arm around Twilight’s shoulders.

“I still feel like that's really unfair,” Twilight murmured. “Rarity should have won that, or Pinkie.”

“Nah, if you only focus on the smile, I can see that one too,” Sunset said.

“Besides, Pinkie won Class Clown, and Rarity was voted Best Dressed and Best Hair, so it’s not like either of them really missed out,” Rainbow assured her.

“All of this sounds kinda rough on anyone who didn’t get the votes, or who got the wrong votes,” Sun said. “It’s making me glad I didn’t go to combat school.”

“At any school other than Canterlot, you would have been a shoo-in for Class Clown,” Rainbow informed him.

“Is there not a difference between funny and foolish?” Ciel asked.

“Sometimes, sure,” Rainbow agreed. “But sometimes, stupid can be funny.”

“I bet you won something,” Sunset said. “Let me see… your close quarters aren’t good enough for Best All Around… Beauty and Brains.”

Ciel pursed her lips together. “As it happens, I was voted Most Unique. I’m still not certain it was intended as a compliment.”

“So you didn’t go to combat school either, Sun?” Jaune asked.

“Nah,” Sun replied. “I just picked up a few things growing up in Vacuo.”

“What do you mean, either?” Rainbow said. “You didn’t go to combat school?”

Jaune froze for a moment, with the look of someone who had forgotten that not everybody in the room knew his secret. “Well, funny story…” he began.

They ate, they talked, they laughed, and when they had eaten their fill the bin in the corner of the room was full to overflowing, and there were quite a few dishes in the kitchenette sink waiting for somebody to apply some elbow grease – and that person would probably be Sunset, given her lack of contribution so far – once they were done talking.

Right now, however, they had some information to share.

“So,” Sunset said, clapping her hands together. “We've come to the serious bit.”

“For a while,” Rainbow said, her tone subdued.

Sunset shrugged at that. It implied an end to the serious mood that she was not certain would come before evening’s end. She licked her lips and glanced at Ruby where she sat on the floor next to Penny. “Where shall we begin?” she murmured, as much to herself as to anyone else. “Where shall we begin?”

“Magic is real, and Sunset’s got it!” The words burst out of Twilight’s mouth like water gushing through a hole in a dam.

Silence descended on the dorm room. Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby – to whom this was not new – waited expectantly for any reaction from the Rosepetals, Blake, and Sun, to whom this was new.

Twilight laughed nervously. “Sorry,” she said. “I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

Rainbow Dash blinked rapidly. “It… it’s real? Like real? All of that stuff-”

“Yes!” Twilight cried triumphantly. “All of it is real, I was right, and you owe me an apology for implying that I was crazy!”

“I never implied that you were crazy!”

“You told me that people see things after they hit their heads!”

“That’s a concussion, not craziness!”

“It didn’t feel that way,” Twilight said, quietly and with a touch of sullenness.

“I didn’t… sorry,” Rainbow said. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, I just… didn’t believe you.”

“I know.”

“But you were right?” Rainbow asked. She looked at Sunset. “Twilight was right. It’s all true?”

“I don’t know about all of it,” Sunset said. “I’m not even sure what all of it is – that’s why Twilight got me those books – but magic does exist, and I have some.”

“I don’t understand,” Penny said. “What do you mean when you say 'magic'?”

“That’s what I’d like to know too,” Blake declared, her tone wary. Her ears were pricked up sharply above her head, long and straight like arrowheads. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“In some ways, 'magic' is a lazy catch-all term, for things currently beyond our scientific understanding,” Twilight declared.

“My magic is not beyond scientific understanding; it’s simply beyond scientific knowledge,” Sunset corrected her. In this world, anyway. In Equestrian terms, Twilight’s definition of magic as a kind of dark matter was wholly inaccurate, although she could see how it worked in Remnant. “And it’s going to stay that way,” she added, sweeping her gaze across the room and all its occupants before she focussed on Blake. “Have you never thought that my semblance was strangely wide-ranging?”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Some semblances are more versatile than others. My clones can be combined with dust to produce a variety of different effects; it’s just not obvious because I don’t have access to dust. You might say that Weiss’ glyphs are strangely wide-ranging, but that doesn’t make it magic.”

“No,” Sunset allowed. “But I don’t have a semblance.”

She wouldn’t have thought that it would be possible for Blake’s ears to stick up any higher on top of her head than they already were, but somehow, they managed it anyway. “You… you don’t have a semblance?”

“It’s magic,” Sunset said. “I’ve been passing it off as my semblance. Which, incidentally, is a possible answer to your question, Dash: they have been using their abilities; you just didn’t notice.”

“Why…?” Blake began, but no other words followed the first, at least not straight away. “I’m sorry, Sunset, but why should… ? How can…?”

“You don’t believe me?” Sunset suggested.

“I don’t want to call you a liar,” Blake said delicately, “but… it’s a lot to take in.”

“Would it help if I turned that chicken piece into a frog?” Sunset asked.

Blake’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“It seems to be her favourite method of demonstration,” Jaune observed.

“Whatever happened to the last frog?” asked Pyrrha.

“I let it out,” Ruby explained. “It didn’t seem right to keep it cooped up in here.”

“It would have turned back into an orange if you’d left it alone,” Sunset said.

“Oh.”

Penny stood up, leaning forwards eagerly. “I’d like to see you turn something into a frog.”

“I am uncertain that would be sanitary in the presence of food,” Ciel said, “and this is not a children’s party.” She paused. “For my own part, I believe that you can do it; there is no demonstration necessary.”

“You believe her?” Twilight asked. “You believe that magic exists?”

“The world is full of extraordinary things, some of which can appear… inexplicable,” Ciel murmured. She clasped her hands together on her knee. “My mother once told me a story of a… it was after the conclusion of a particularly harrowing mission. She was flying a Skyray through the teeth of a snowstorm at night, having lost contact with all other members of her flight; one engine was out of action, communications were down, she was carrying six wounded men in need of medical attention, but she had lost contact with her home cruiser. No situation ever seemed more hopeless. And then… then she saw a light. A single light, as though a star had pierced the clouds but closer, so close to her airship, moving as though it were trying to guide her. My mother did not know what this light was, but she was out of options but not out of hope, and so, she followed this light, this guiding star, trailing it as it twisted and turned, keeping it ever before her until… until it disappeared, to be replaced a few seconds by the myriad lights of the Ardent, welcoming her home.

“There was no air traffic detected beside my mother’s airship, no communications were received, and yet, something had guided her to safety. Just because the light cannot be explained does not mean that there was no light. There are more things in heaven and earth that we can dream of… or have yet dreamt of at least. We must have faith that all things will be revealed to us at need and that there is purpose to those things which we do not understand. If you say that you have magic and that that which you have led us to believe is your semblance is, in fact, said magic, then I believe you.”

“I suppose you have no reason to lie about it,” Blake said. “Or should I say, that you have no reason to stop lying, after having lied about it for some time already. But I still have questions.”

“You and me both.” Rainbow leaned back against the wall of the dorm room. “So the reason why you appeared to have gotten so much stronger since coming to Beacon compared to the way you sucked in combat school, that’s because you decided to cut loose with your magic?”

Sunset nodded. “I was hiding my light under a bushel before.” She grinned. “I’m not doing that any more, as you’ll find out if we ever meet in the sparring ring.”

Rainbow waved that off without responding to it. “Okay, so why hide in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to get poked and prodded by scientists to try and find out how magic works and how they can duplicate it.”

“But what if we could duplicate it?” Rainbow asked. “Maybe Twilight could figure out a way to copy it, to give it to everyone-”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“How do you know, you haven’t tried?”

“Because I know,” Sunset insisted. “I know how my own powers work. They aren’t something that I… my magic is an extension of myself, like my aura, almost. You can’t just replicate it, and even if you got close, then it wouldn’t be my magic, because other people aren’t me. The power would change to fit them, their personality, their aptitudes and natures. You can’t clone me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Unless you’ve got secret Atlesian cloning tech that you’re not telling anyone about?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; we’re not working on anything like that,” Twilight said. “And if we were, I certainly wouldn’t admit it,” she added under her breath. “Anywayyy,” she went on, drawing out the word a little more than was strictly necessary, “while you’re probably right, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at you with a couple of instruments.”

“Hmm, let’s think about that,” Sunset murmured.

“Can you at least answer the questions you didn’t get the chance to answer on the train because of Adam attacking?”

“Uh, yeah, okay, why not?”

“Have you always had these powers?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “I was born with them.”

“Can you do anything with them that you haven’t shown yet?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied again, “but nothing useful in combat.”

“Turning things into other things could be pretty useful in combat,” Rainbow pointed out. “In fact, if you can do that, why do you waste time shooting laser beams?”

“Because aura blocks my magic,” Sunset explained. “I could turn an inanimate object into a frog, but I couldn’t turn you into a frog so long as your aura was up. I’d need to break your aura first, and at that point, I’d have won the fight anyway.”

“How about weapons?”

“Weapons are conduits for aura.”

“I know that,” Rainbow replied sharply. “But not when nobody is holding onto them.”

Sunset’s mouth opened just a little, but no words came out. That didn’t just happen. It was not possible that Rainbow Dash knew more about the way that Sunset’s magic could be used in battle than Sunset herself.

I suppose General Ironwood likes her for a reason.

“Is it linked to your aura in any way?” Twilight asked, leaning forward expectantly.

“No, I’ve had my magic since before I unlocked my aura,” Sunset said. Since before I knew what aura was. “It’s like aura in that it’s unique to me, but it’s not connected.”

“Do you know why you have it?” Blake inquired, her voice soft. “I mean, out of all the people in the world, why were you born with this… unique gift?”

“How do we know it’s unique?” Jaune asked.

Blake frowned. “Because Sunset-”

“Is the only person willing to tell us about it,” Jaune said.

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “That’s… a good point.”

“She’s not unique,” Twilight insisted. “There are reports of unexplained phenomena like the one that Ciel’s mother described happening all over Remnant, and I think that magic… for want of a better name, is the cause.”

“Perhaps, but it still doesn’t answer my question,” Blake pointed out.

“No,” Sunset said. “But that… is my secret to keep.”

Blake held Sunset’s gaze for a moment, before she nodded. “Of course. The limits of your honesty are for you to set, not us.”

“That’s very understanding of you.”

“It would be a little hypocritical of me to be anything else, don’t you think?” Blake replied.

“I don’t understand,” Penny said. “What does this mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Sunset said. “I’m still me. I just… my abilities come from a slightly different place.”

“I wouldn’t say that it doesn’t mean anything,” Rainbow said. “It means Twilight was right all along, for one thing.”

“And if Sunset exists, then that means there could be more out there,” Twilight added.

“If they don’t want to be found, you shouldn’t look for them,” Blake said. “Sun, how are you taking this? You’ve been very quiet.”

Sun shrugged. “It’s like Sunset said: it doesn’t mean anything.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me!” Sunset snapped.

“It’s like Ciel said: it’s a big world, and there’s a lot of stuff happening in it,” Sun added. “It’s cool for you, I guess, but… you know?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I don’t know, but apparently, neither do you.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, in response to Blake’s question, there isn’t any need to go looking very far for others with magic, because there’s someone else with magic sitting right here in this room.”

Ruby leapt to her feet, striking a pose with two fingers held in front of her right eye, while with her other hand she held her cape around her as though she was trying to hide in it.

Penny gasped. “Ruby! You have magic too!”

“Yep!” Ruby announced proudly.

“Can you turn something into a frog?”

“No,” Ruby admitted, deflating a little. “I… the truth is I don’t really know what I can do. Or how I can do it.”

“Twilight,” Sunset said. “All the research that you’ve been doing into magic, and you never came across the idea of Silver Eyes?”

Twilight shook her head.

“What about 'The Warrior in the Woods'?” Jaune asked. “What about the tale of the Dragon and the Two Sons?”

“The warrior in 'The Warrior in the Woods' never actually does anything that can be described as magic,” Twilight replied. “Her silver eyes are remarked on as a feature of beauty, not as a weapon. And… I’ve never heard of that other one.”

“I can lend you the book, if you like,” Pyrrha suggested.

“Ruby’s eyes are of course notable for the uniqueness of their colour,” Ciel said, “but you suggest that there is more to it than that?”

Ruby nodded. “My mom kept a diary; in it, she talks about using her silver eyes to zap grimm, to turn them to stone or burn them or things like that. She called it magic.”

“We didn’t believe it either,” Jaune admitted, “until Sunset told us that she had magic too, then it started to seem a lot more plausible. If one kind of magic exists, then why not more?”

“Does Yang know about this?” Blake asked.

“About my eyes, yes,” Ruby said, “but not about Sunset.”

“Can you use this power?” asked Twilight.

Ruby’s face fell a little. “No,” she confessed. “In her diary, my mom says that it’s activated by feelings of love, but… she doesn’t really explain what that means, and Sunset’s magic is too different from mine for her to be able to help. And Sunset doesn’t want me to talk to Professor Ozpin about it-”

“Don’t say it like that, Ruby; it makes it sound like I don’t have good reasons,” protested Sunset.

“Well, you kind of… don’t,” Jaune said.

“I have excellent reasons, thank you very much,” Sunset declared. “I don’t trust him.”

“We know, you’ve said, repeatedly,” Rainbow muttered.

“Professor Ozpin knows about the power of your eyes?” Ciel asked. “To be clear?”

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed. “He helped my mom learn to master them.”

“That explains why he let you into Beacon early,” Rainbow muttered.

Ruby went on, “That’s why I could ask him for help if someone trusted him a little more.”

“Well, I don’t trust him, and you shouldn’t trust him either,” Sunset insisted.

“I am inclined to agree,” Ciel said.

Pyrrha looked at Ciel in astonishment. “Excuse me?”

“Ruby, how effective are the Silver Eyes you speak of? Does your mother’s diary offer any indication?”

“Pretty strong, I think,” Ruby replied. “She used them to take out whole bunches of grimm, even if it did leave her pretty weak afterwards.”

Ciel’s face was creased by a frown. “The Headmaster of Beacon, a man sworn to defend the Kingdom of Vale, has knowledge of a powerful weapon against the grimm and sits on knowledge and weapon both. He could approach Ruby and offer his services, in spite of Sunset’s disapproval, if wished to do so. Why does he not?”

“Perhaps he has some concern for Ruby as more than just a weapon,” Pyrrha suggested, a touch of acid corroding the tone of her voice.

“That is no reason to keep what he knows a secret,” Ciel said. “We should inform General Ironwood.”

“No,” Rainbow said. “We’re not going to do that.”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “Is there a good reason why not?”

“Because that’s not why they asked us here,” Rainbow declared, getting to her feet. “Ruby and Sunset are telling us these things because they trust us, and so, we’re not going to turn around and run our mouths about their secrets, not even to the General. Some things just aren’t ours to tell.”

Ciel hesitated for a moment, before she gave a curt nod of the head. “Very well. I understand and will keep all your confidences.”

“Besides,” Ruby said, “in my case, there’s not much to tell, since I can’t get my eyes to work.”

“Perhaps I could help with that?” Twilight suggested. “I understand that Sunset is wary of being examined, but it might be that I can find a scientific explanation for your magic that will enable me to unlock your access to it.”

“Really?” Ruby asked. “Do you think so?”

“It can’t hurt to try, right?”

“I don’t know, Twi,” Rainbow said. “Remember that time you tried to scientifically analyse Pinkie?”

“The bruises wore off eventually.”

“'Bruises'?” Pyrrha asked anxiously.

“Twilight had the bruises, not Pinkie,” Rainbow explained quickly.

Ruby nodded after a moment of what looked like thought. “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” she murmured. “Sure, if you think you can help, then why not?”

“Great!” Twilight cried.

“I’m a robot,” Penny announced.

Everyone looked at her.

“You know, since we’re all sharing secrets,” Penny said.

There was a moment of silence before the room – most of the room – collapsed into laughter.

“Thank you, Penny,” Pyrrha said. “That was… I think we all needed that.”

“Penny,” Ciel began. “Miss Belladonna and Mister Wukong-”

“It’s done now, Ciel,” Rainbow said. “I’ll explain to General Ironwood what happened. Kind of. In a way that doesn’t say anything about Ruby or Sunset.”

“Will you get into trouble?” Penny asked anxiously.

“Maybe,” Rainbow admitted. “But it was worth it this once.”

“And now everyone knows, we don’t have to worry about it being a secret any more,” said Ruby.

“You thought it was a secret,” Sunset murmured. “I’d worked that out weeks ago.”

“You did not!” Ruby declared.

Rainbow bent down and picked up her cup off the floor, raising it towards the ceiling. “Here’s to us,” she said, “and to a successful mission.”

“To a successful mission!”

Her First Debriefing (New)

Her First Debriefing

“Are you frowning at me?” Sunset asked.

Blake hadn’t realised that she was frowning, and she stopped as soon as she realised. “Sorry,” she said. “I just… I can understand why General Ironwood might want to see me, but not why he’d ask you to come up here.” The two of them stood in the corridor outside of General Ironwood’s office aboard the Valiant. Or rather, Blake stood; Sunset slouched against the wall like a sack of flour. Blake suspected that she was doing it on purpose in order to demonstrate that she wasn’t a part of General Ironwood’s military and wouldn’t be bound by its discipline.

It was the same reason that Sunset had her hands thrust into her pockets.

If Blake had been more determined to remain a mere ancillary of the Atlesian forces, then she might have been tempted to join her, if she had given Rainbow Dash a firm ‘no’ when the idea of transferring to Atlas, then maybe… but she had not given a firm ‘no’ for the good reason that she hadn’t made her mind up yet. And so, she assumed a somewhat military bearing, back straight and hands by her sides, even if she wasn’t actually standing to attention.

Shall I stay or shall I go? Rainbow’s offer… it was a tempting one, not so much for the material advantages as for what you might call the spiritual ones. To be a part of something bigger than herself, bigger than just a four-man team – or a five-man team, even – to be a part of something large and powerful… something like the White Fang, but better.

But she’d been here before. The White Fang had seemed like the ‘something better’ not so very long ago. She had sat at the feet of Sienna Khan and listened to her talk about the need for justice and the need to take extreme measures in order to obtain that justice, and she had believed her, as she found herself starting to believe Rainbow and the others when they talked about how great and glorious Atlas was. She had a habit of getting swept away by the appeal of a cause when sold by someone passionate and convinced of its righteousness, and Rainbow Dash was certainly that.

Rainbow… Rainbow reminded her a little of Adam at times; they were both brave, each ferocious in battle, both utterly committed to the cause to which they had dedicated their lives, both able to sell that cause to others. To Blake. Of course, Rainbow Dash wasn’t cruel, or at least, Blake hadn’t seen her be cruel, and she had watched carefully.

She wasn’t sure how much that lack of cruelty was the doing of Twilight and Rainbow’s other friends and how much was simply the fact that Rainbow had more humanity than Adam. Were people born cruel or kind, or were they fashioned into one or the other by the circumstances in which they lived their lives? A philosophical debate which had eluded the greatest minds in Remnant, there was no chance that she would be able to solve it now while she waited for General Ironwood to see her.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Are you saying it’s surprising that General Ironwood should want to speak to me?”

“No, I… you know what I meant,” Blake said, with a slight huff in her voice.

Sunset snorted. “Yes. I do. Do you enjoy this?”

“'Enjoy this'?”

“Being summoned into the presence of the commanding general himself?” Sunset explained. “Does your heart thrill to the great honour that is done to you?”

“You sound much more like a Mistralian than an Atlesian sometimes,” Blake pointed out.

“Thanks,” Sunset said, a slight smile playing across her face. “I prefer Mistral to Atlas.”

“They both have equally poor reputations when it comes to faunus rights,” Blake pointed out.

Sunset sucked in a breath, and her tone acquired an edge of mockery as she said, “Ooh, do you suggest that Atlas might be a little bit racist? Rainbow would be horrified to hear it.”

Blake gave her a flat look. “Rainbow isn’t blind… not completely blind to the state of Atlas; she just… believes that it can be improved.”

“And you?” Sunset asked. “Do you believe that it can be improved?”

“I don’t know,” Blake admitted. “I’ve never actually been to Atlas.”

“Perhaps you should rectify that before you move there permanently,” Sunset suggested.

“I haven’t made up my mind to do that yet,” Blake informed her. But all the same, it wasn’t a bad idea; it was a little ridiculous that she was even considering transferring to a school in a kingdom that she’d never actually visited. Dash told her one story of Atlas, Ilia had told another; only with her own eyes could she actually judge whose account was closer to the truth. Only by going there could she see if it was really the kind of place she would want to live.

Maybe during the vacation, before the Vytal Festival starts.

Not that it matters, since I won’t be competing in the Vytal Festival. Blake was pretty sure there was no option for a team to compete with five members.

The point was, visiting Atlas might not be a bad idea. In fact, it was a very good idea.

“You changed the subject,” Blake pointed out.

“Did I? When?”

“When I pointed out that Mistral’s reputation on faunus rights was pretty poor.”

“I didn’t see any sign of that when I was there,” Sunset replied.

“Might that be because you spent all of your time with aristocrats?” Blake suggested. “Perhaps if you had descended the slopes into the lower city, then you might have had a different experience.”

“Why would I want to do that when I could associate with aristocrats instead?” Sunset asked.

Blake chuckled, but she also couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m just saying that the Mistralian upper class-”

“Are not perfect, lest you think I believe otherwise,” Sunset said. “Far from it, in fact.”

“I’m glad to hear you recognise that,” Blake murmured, “but they are also not the entire city, still less the kingdom. Mistral is a lot more than Pyrrha and her class.”

“You’ve spent some time in the lower environs, I presume?”

Blake nodded. “For a while, with the White Fang.”

“How was it?”

“Poor,” Blake said. “Prey to criminals of every kind. The White Fang in Mistral spends more time protecting faunus neighbourhoods from gangs than it does trying to advance the cause of faunus rights.” She paused. “How was the peak?”

“Pompous, arrogant, full of themselves,” Sunset said.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Blake murmured. “Sunset?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve known Rainbow Dash for some time, haven’t you?”

“That depends how you define ‘known,’” Sunset replied.

“Has she…?” Blake blinked. “Has she ever been cruel? Have you ever seen her be cruel?”

“She was an ass to me, does that count?” Sunset asked.

Blake stared at her flatly.

“Oh, I see, we’re having a serious conversation now,” Sunset muttered, coughing into one hand. “I… no, I can’t say that I did ever see that. I wasn’t close to her, you understand, but she was so loud that it was hard to ignore her. So… no. I never saw her be cruel to anyone. She wasn’t as kind as Twilight or Fluttershy, but she was never cruel.”

Blake suppressed the sigh of relief she wanted to let out. “I see.”

“Why do you ask?”

Blake didn’t reply. In fact, she looked away from Sunset to make clear just to what extent she didn’t want to reply.

“She’s not Adam,” Sunset declared. “Rainbow has her faults, but she’s not him.”

Blake glanced at her. “How did you know?”

“I’m very perceptive,” Sunset said, a slight grin playing across her face.

Blake snorted. “Thank you.”

“Don’t go to Atlas,” Sunset said.

Blake couldn’t help but smile. “You really don’t want me to go, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Sunset said. “I want you to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because… because we’ll have more fun together,” Sunset said. “More than you’ll have in Atlas. Rainbow Dash… you’ll be better off here in Beacon.”

Before Blake could reply that she was not entirely convinced of that, the door into General Ironwood’s office opened, and the yeoman stepped out into the corridor. “General Ironwood will see you now.”

Sunset allowed Blake to go in first, and she stepped into General Ironwood’s austere office. She heard Sunset’s footsteps echo on the deck behind her.

The General had his back turned to them, looking out of the window at his fleet and at the city that they protected. Blake couldn’t help but wonder if he genuinely liked the view or if this was some kind of power play by not showing them his face.

Or, perhaps, he just didn’t want them to see his expression.

It was probably not the latter, since he turned to face them both as soon as the door slid shut behind them.

“Miss Belladonna, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “Thank you both for coming.”

“It’s our pleasure, sir,” Sunset said, softly but without hostility.

“I asked you both here because I’ve finished reading Rainbow Dash’s report upon your recent mission,” General Ironwood announced, explaining the matter which had puzzled them outside – at least in part. He began to walk around his desk. “Miss Shimmer, I hope you’ll forgive me if I keep this brief: thank you, for protecting Twilight from that bastard.”

Blake’s ears pricked up. She supposed that she hadn’t known General Ironwood long enough to be surprised by him swearing, but at the same time… she was surprised. Whether she had any right to be was another matter. There was nobody in the room who could have suggested whether she did or not.

Blake didn’t miss the way that Sunset’s hand twitched towards the wound on her stomach. “Thank you, sir,” Sunset said. “I wish you could be thanking me for taking him out of the picture.”

Blake sucked in her breath but held her peace. It wasn’t her place to speak right now, especially not about this.

“Believe me, after the damage that he’s wreaked over the years, I wish that too,” General Ironwood admitted, “but I’m well aware of what a tough nut he is to crack, and I can’t fault you for not finishing the job. From Rainbow’s report, it seems you did the best you could in the circumstances.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose a little. “Sir, you might be the first person who hasn’t called me a fool for doing what I did.”

“Sometimes, we have no choice but to throw our bodies into the firing line,” General Ironwood declared. “If only because we have nothing else to put in the way. I’m sure that those who remonstrate with you for your actions do so out of concern for your safety, but if they keep it up, perhaps you ought to remind them all that you’re a huntress-in-training: putting yourself in harm’s way is what you signed up for.”

“But Twilight didn’t,” Sunset said. “Did she, General?”

General Ironwood stared down at the Beacon student for a moment. “No, Miss Shimmer, she did not. I take it you’re aware of exactly what Penny is?”

“Yes, sir. I was the last of my team to find out,” – Sunset couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of her voice as she said that – “but I’m aware. It… explains a lot.”

“And as an outsider,” General Ironwood said, “how does it make you feel? Knowing that we have built… someone like Penny.”

Sunset was silent for a moment, considering her response. “It’s a magnificent feat of engineering you’ve pulled off,” she said. “It borders on… magical.”

General Ironwood raised one eyebrow curiously. “You’ve been talking to Twilight, I see.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your appreciation of the efforts of the Polendina brothers is noted,” General Ironwood said, “but what I meant was what you thought of the ethics of it. Does it alarm you that we can create Penny?”

“No, sir,” Sunset said. “No offence to Penny, but for all that she’s a technological marvel, I’d still say Rainbow Dash is more reliable. I don’t think she’s going to replace us any time soon. I know that she’s new, but if we never did anything new because it might seem strange to people, then we would never advance, would we?”

“No, I suppose we wouldn’t,” General Ironwood conceded. “And you are correct; Twilight is not a huntress-in-training. She’s a scientist, here to monitor Penny during this, her field testing.”

“It can’t have been an easy decision for you to send her out into the field,” Sunset guessed. “She matters to you, doesn’t she General?”

“The life of every single boy and girl in my academy, every single man and woman under my command, matters to me, Miss Shimmer,” General Ironwood declared. “But you’re right: Twilight is dear to me. Which is why I’m grateful to you, for keeping her safe. Thank you, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset understood that she was being dismissed. She bowed her head. “Thank you, sir. Your praise is the highest reward I could expect for my service.”

General Ironwood folded his arms. “I’m sure that there are some in Mistral or Vale who would appreciate such flattery, but not in this office.”

Sunset smiled. “Can’t blame a girl for trying, sir.” She bowed again, from the waist this time, although not deeply so, and stepped backwards out of the room. The door opened behind her and then closed in front of her face.

“If I may, sir,” Blake murmured, “why did you send Twilight out into the field?”

General Ironwood was silent. “Someone had to go,” he said. “Doctor Polendina didn’t believe that Penny was ready to go out into the field at all, but the prospect of another year’s delay on top of all the money, time, and resources sunk into her development… the Council was growing impatient and, I admit, so was I.”

He turned away from Blake and began to walk back towards the window with its panoramic view of Vale. He did not reach the window, however, but stopped and looked down at his desk, at the photographs that Blake couldn’t see. “I championed the Penny project. I selected it to go forward out of several funding submissions from some of the top minds in Atlas. Having a member of Doctor Polendina’s lab team – someone young enough to pass as a student alongside Penny – accompany her in case any issues arose was the compromise that enabled us to get things moving. There were only really two candidates, Twilight volunteered, and she had a lot to recommend her over the other girl I could have sent. In the end, I didn’t have much choice.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed just a little. “Sunset thought that you’d assigned Rainbow Dash to Penny’s team in order to protect Penny, but it was actually to protect Twilight, wasn’t it, sir?”

General Ironwood looked up at her. “It was to protect both of them,” he said. “Twilight, yes, but also Penny if her performance was not everything that we expected of her. If Doctor Polendina was correct, if Penny turned out not to be ready, then I knew that Dash – with Soleil’s help – would bring them home.”

“You think a great deal of her, don’t you, sir?” Blake said. “Not just a lot for a faunus, but a lot, period.”

General Ironwood looked up at her. “I trust her completely.”

“Why, sir?” Blake asked. “If I may?”

General Ironwood looked into Blake’s eyes for a moment. “Why don’t you ask Dash herself, Miss Belladonna, see if she’ll tell you?”

In other words, she might be willing to tell me, but you’re not, not yet. “That’s fair enough, sir.”

General Ironwood nodded. “So, how was your first mission with the Atlesian forces?”

“It… was not what I expected, sir,” Blake admitted, “but at the same time, it confirmed some of my worries about working with Atlas.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“On the flight to Cold Harbour, Rainbow thought it was necessary to warn me that the base commander-”

“Might not mind their manners,” General Ironwood finished for her. “I’m afraid that’s something every faunus student learns.” He paused. “How was it?”

“There was no problem, sir,” Blake said. “Captain Blackberry was extraordinarily helpful and sympathetic to the faunus in and around the town. But that isn’t really the point. The point is that it could have been so much worse, that even Rainbow Dash, who is incredibly loyal to Atlas and its ideals, thought that it might be worse.”

“I won’t deny that there are a few fossils in the high command who haven’t moved with the times,” General Ironwood confessed. “I have hope that the new generation of rising stars will be more tolerant.”

“If I may speak freely sir, you have more hope in the new generation to be free of prejudice than I do,” Blake said, thinking of Cardin and those like him. She frowned. “General Ironwood, are you… aware of Rainbow’s plans?”

“Do I know that she means to rise to take my place one day and use the power of this office to improve the condition of the faunus? Of course I do,” General Ironwood said. “She asked me if I thought it was feasible.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “And did you?”

“Yes,” General Ironwood said. “Are you aware, Miss Belladonna, that I hold two seats on the Atlas council?”

“No, sir, I wasn’t.”

“One in my position as Commanding General and another as Headmaster of Atlas Academy,” General Ironwood explained. “The two seats don’t have to be combined, and haven’t always, but imagine what a faunus holding both or even one of those seats would be able to accomplish.”

“Will it happen, sir?”

“It will take a lot of work on Dash’s part,” General Ironwood allowed, “but I don’t know anyone more willing to work hard for something she believes in than Rainbow Dash.”

Blake felt a twinge of envy for Rainbow Dash. “She’s lucky to have someone who believes in her.”

“Dash has plenty of people who believe in her,” General Ironwood replied. “I’m fortunate to have someone I can believe in.”

“Do you know that she’s asked me to transfer to Atlas?”

General Ironwood looked into Blake’s eyes. “No,” he said. “I didn’t. Although, having read Rainbow Dash’s report, I can understand why.”

“I didn’t really do anything, sir.”

“You assisted in the capture of Roman Torchwick; that’s not nothing.”

“Others did a lot more than I did, sir.”

“Everyone plays their part in battle, and a part being less dramatic makes it no less notable,” General Ironwood informed her. He clasped his arms behind his back. “Atlas Academy does not usually accept transfer students, but with your grades and combat experience alongside our forces, I’m sure that an exception could be made in your case.”

“Aren’t you the one that gets to decide if an exception is made, sir?”

“I am, so you should trust my confidence,” General Ironwood informed her. “If, that is, you want to transfer.”

Blake glanced down at the deck. There was a dent in the floor, and she couldn’t work out how it had gotten there. “I don’t know, sir.”

General Ironwood sat down behind his desk. “I suppose Dash has already given you the sales pitch?”

Blake smiled. “Yes, General, she has.”

General Ironwood nodded. “Your feelings about possible racism among the senior staff aside, what was it like fighting with Team Rosepetal?”

“It was a different style than the one taught at Beacon,” Blake said. “I’m not ready to call it better on the basis of one mission. And I’m certainly not ready to judge Atlas on the basis of one team.”

“If you would like to accompany other teams on training missions as they come up, that can be arranged,” General Ironwood suggested.

“I… yes, sir, thank you,” Blake said. “I’d also like to visit Atlas during the vacation.”

“That depends on the threat posed by the White Fang at the end of the semester,” General Ironwood said, “but in principle, I’ve no objection to that either. You are considering it, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Blake admitted. “I am.”

“May I ask why?” General Ironwood inquired. “You don’t seem like the kind of student who would be excited by high tech gadgets or the ability to call in fire support.”

“Does that make me a poor fit for your academy, General?”

“No,” General Ironwood denied. “Although it means you may have something to learn when it comes to adapting to our philosophy.” The general took pause for a moment. “We don’t train Heroes at Atlas Academy, Miss Belladonna. Every student who passes through the halls of my school is a hero in my eyes, but we do not train Heroes. Do you understand the distinction?”

“Do you mean someone who fights alone, for their own glory?”

“Alone, or with only a handful of chosen companions like some knight or warrior prince of old,” General Ironwood corrected. “If your ambition is to roam the dark places of the world with only your own strength – or the strength of the handful you trust to stand by your side – to preserve you, then I wish you luck, but Atlas Academy isn’t for you. At Atlas, there are no soloists, only instruments in a grand orchestra. Scales on a leviathan.”

“So I understand, sir, and honestly… that’s what appeals to me. The chance to be a part of something bigger than myself… if only I could be sure that it was something good as well.”

General Ironwood said, “I consider this great creation of ours to be not only good but great, and I hope that Dash would say the same, but I don’t expect you to take either of our words for it.”

“No, sir. This is something… I have to decide for myself.” I owe it to myself not to make another mistake in choosing a cause to fight for.

“That’s fair enough, Miss Belladonna,” General Ironwood said. “When you do decide, just let me know.”

“Yes, sir. General, has Roman Torchwick said anything yet regarding the plans of the White Fang? Or anything else?”

“No, he’s not talking,” General Ironwood said. “A few more days in solitary, and I hope that will change.”

“And if it does-”

General Ironwood smiled slightly. “You’ll be one of the first to know, Miss Belladonna.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Science and Magic (Rewritten)

Science and Magic

“So,” Twilight asked, “how was the General?”

Sunset leaned back in her chair. “He thanked me for saving your life,” she said. “His gratitude was effusive.”

Twilight looked around from the machine that she had been examining. “Really?”

“No,” Sunset conceded. “But it would have if he weren’t such a block of stone, I’m sure.”

Twilight frowned behind her glasses. “General Ironwood is not a block of stone,” she snapped. “In any sense.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, Twilight, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Team SAPR’s garage was a little crowded. Each team was assigned a garage to store any vehicles that they might have – Yang’s bike, Flash’s car, Sunset’s motorcycle – and wished to bring onto campus with them. The garages were bare and uninviting things, plain grey breeze block that offered no meaningful heat insulation and were pretty depressing to look at to boot, not to mention not terribly well-lit, but they were a little isolated from the rest of the campus, and they were large enough to accommodate the possibility – rare, admittedly, but still present – of a team having multiple vehicles that they wished to keep in one place. Which meant, since Team SAPR had only Sunset’s idiosyncratic beauty of a bike, there was plenty of space in the quiet, secluded place for Twilight to run her little science experiment.

Sunset, Ruby, and Penny each sat in the garage upon old swivel chairs, worn out and not particularly comfortable, that Sunset had found by the skips at the back of the dorms; someone hadn’t wanted them any more, but they were good for one more use, and that was all – hopefully – that they would need for this.

They were sat around an advanced Atlesian aura monitoring device, a tall, sleek, white machine that looked far too modern and clean to belong in this rather dark and slightly dinghy space, let alone sharing it with Sunset’s hybrid motorcycle. A screen, displaying a lot of data relating to aura, sat above what Sunset thought to be a holoprojector, although it was not currently projecting anything. A series of black cables ran from the machine to the battery pack and to Ruby, Sunset, and Penny, who were all hooked up to the machine via black, plastic feeling monitors wrapped around their uncovered forearms.

Another machine in the same white, pristine, slender Atlesian mode was monitoring their brain activity, with three lines, running horizontally and rippling up and down on the screen. Finer cables led to it from the nodes attached to the sides of the temples of the three huntresses.

A third machine, to which Ruby and Sunset were also hooked up, this time via their other arms, monitored vital signs.

Sunset had to admit, the fact that that was considered necessary was a little concerning.

Jaune stood not too far away from Twilight and her machines, making a light scuffling sound with his feet as he twitched from one foot to the other. He might have a part to play in all of this, if Twilight decided that a stimulus to the aura was just what the scientist ordered. Pyrrha stood still and silent near the garage door, mostly visible for the reflection of the dim garage lights upon her gilded armour. Ciel stood next to Penny, one hand upon her shoulder, her blue eyes darting from Sunset to Ruby and then back again.

The door was shut. They were encased within.

Twilight turned away from Sunset, looking at her aura monitoring device, or seeming to. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just… people talk about General Ironwood like… it isn’t fair, the things that they say. But you didn’t mean it, and I shouldn’t have reacted as though you did.”

Sunset snorted. “It’s mutual, then.”

“Hmm?” Twilight asked.

“You care about him,” Sunset explained. “The same way he cares about you.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. “Um, yes, I… of course I do. General Ironwood is… to be honest, I can’t imagine our forces without him. I know, intellectually, that there must have been a time before him – in fact, I can tell you the name of his predecessor – but at the same time, and at the same time as I know that he won’t always be around, that there will be a day when someone else will take his place… I can’t really imagine that day coming.”

“Not even if Rainbow Dash was the one taking his place?” Sunset asked.

Twilight blinked. “That… would require me to be able to imagine what Rainbow Dash will be like when she’s older, and I just… is it weird that I can’t do that? Not just with Rainbow, with anyone really? I can’t imagine us grown up.”

“And yet, it will happen to all of you nonetheless,” Sunset murmured. “Except for you, Penny,” she added, glancing past Ruby to where the newly-revealed robot sat on the far side of the garage. “You’ll… do you have a plan for what you’re going to do about that?”

“Do I need a plan for what I’m going to do about that?” Penny asked.

“Someone should have one,” Sunset replied. “You don’t really look seventeen now; it’ll be really noticeable when everyone else is twenty-one, and you still look about fifteen.”

“Some people stay looking young,” Ruby pointed out. “Dad and Uncle Qrow haven’t aged a day since they were at Beacon.”

“I’m sure that’s what they’d like you to believe.”

“No, it’s really true; I’ve seen pictures,” Ruby insisted. She paused for a moment. “They haven’t changed their clothes since then either.”

“That’s… a choice,” Sunset muttered. “I take it, then, that the answer is that you don’t have a plan for how to fake the appearance of getting older.”

“No,” Twilight said softly. “It… hasn’t come up.”

“Is that because Penny will be able to tell everybody the truth by then?” Ruby suggested.

“Do you think I should?” Penny asked, her tone wavering between eagerness and wariness. “I mean, what if… what if people find out what I really am and… they don’t like me?”

Pyrrha took a step forward, coming a little more into the light than she had been before. “We like you just fine, Penny,” she pointed out. “Finding out your truth didn’t change one bit how we feel about you.”

“You’re not most people,” Sunset said under her breath.

Ciel must have caught her words, because she said, “Indeed, as gratifying as your acceptance of Penny has been… it cannot be counted on to be universally replicated. We must take into account the possibility that there will be adverse reactions to Penny’s nature. Which is why her secret ought not to be shared more widely than it already has been.”

“You don’t trust us to hold our tongues?” Sunset asked.

Ciel sighed. “I wish that nothing had been said to Mister Wukong. There is a certain fecklessness about him that makes him hard to trust.”

“Feckless?” Sunset repeated. “There’s nothing feckless about Sun. Stupid, sure, but not feckless.”

“He has repeatedly abandoned his team-”

“Because they don’t matter to him, and why should they?” Sunset demanded.

“Because they’re his team?” Ruby reminded her.

“And he’s found something that matters to him more than they do: Blake,” Sunset declared.

“Your tone suggests you find virtue in that,” Ciel said. “I confess, I cannot see it.”

“When a man loves a woman,” Sunset said, her voice adopting a certain haughty air, “he puts her at the very centre of his life and world.” She twisted around in her seat to affix Jaune with a piercing look. “Devoting himself to her and sacrificing all his pleasures to her happiness. Otherwise, he is merely playing with her affection, and it is cruel beyond words to use a maiden’s heart so.”

“What are you glaring at me for?” Jaune asked nervously.

“I’m just exercising my neck muscles,” Sunset said casually, looking away from him once she was sure that he had gotten the point. For all his faults, she found that she kind of liked Sun; he wasn’t likely to treat Blake the way that Flash had treated her.

“I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Ruby said.

“Then hearken to my wisdom, Ruby,” Sunset said. “You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do.”

“I like a good singalong more than probably anyone here,” Twilight interjected, “but please tell me you’re not about to start singing ‘Sixteen Going On Seventeen’ from Edelweiss.”

“Of course not,” Sunset snapped. “That guy was a complete jackass.”

“In any case, no offence to Sunset-”

“But you’re about to insult me.”

“-but Ruby, I wouldn’t necessarily take Sunset’s words on the subject of relationships too much to heart.”

“I suppose that she should take your advice instead,” Sunset muttered. Listen to Twilight long enough, Ruby, and she’ll teach you how to get Jaune away from Pyrrha. She could accept the fact that Twilight had not intentionally set out to steal Sunset’s boyfriend, but at the same time, that kind of made it even worse; Twilight hadn’t set out to do it, but nevertheless, she had accomplished precisely that. She didn’t need to try; she was just so pretty, so sweet, so nice that men fell over themselves to ask her out. “How’s Timber Spruce?” She took a slightly wicked glee in the way that Twilight’s face flushed.

“He, um, I mean we, uh… it, uh, didn’t work out,” Twilight muttered. “Long distance, it was fun, but we didn’t really, you know. I mean it’s not like he was a bad guy or anything-”

“Perhaps we should focus on the reason we are here,” Ciel suggested pointedly and with something of a glare in Sunset’s direction. “Then we can all escape this rather dismal place.”

You’re no fun at all, are you?

Twilight, on the other hand, seemed to find Ciel’s intervention rather gratifying. “Thank you, Ciel. That’s an excellent idea.” She coughed into her hand. “Ahem. Thank you… both of you,” she added, in a tone that suggested she was a little less thankful for Sunset’s presence than she might have been, “for coming. And thank you, Penny, for agreeing to be our control.”

“I thought you were in control?” Penny said.

“I did too,” Ruby agreed.

“A control, sometimes known as a control group, is a scientific term,” Twilight explained. “It refers to the… the normal element in an experiment. By looking at Penny’s aura, I can see if there are any abnormalities in yours or Sunset’s auras that might be caused by your magic.”

“But my aura isn’t normal,” Penny pointed out. “Not like yours or Ciel’s.”

“It’s true that your aura is, as yet, unformed,” Twilight conceded, “and in some ways, it might have been better to use Ciel as the control, but… well, to be honest, after I told everyone that I needed this equipment in order to run some checks on you, Penny, it makes me feel a little less dishonest if I run a couple of checks on you.” She laughed nervously.

“'Unformed'?” Ruby murmured. “What do you mean, Penny’s aura is unformed?”

“I mean… it’s probably best if I show you,” Twilight replied. “In fact, I will show you, because this is really cool. At least, I think it is anyway. As you might be able to guess from the presence of this technology and the fact that, well, Penny exists, we in the Defence Advanced Research Commission – pronounced ‘dark’ – have begun investigating aura from a purely scientific standpoint, stripping away the mysticism with which many past generations imbued it.”

“Is that possible?” Pyrrha asked. “We’re talking about the reflections of our souls, Twilight; how can that be stripped of… of reverence? And why would you want to?”

Twilight glanced at her. “I understand that aura is a wonderful thing-”

“Aura is far more than just wonderful,” Pyrrha murmured. “Aura is… aura is a gift; a shield of light to guard us against the darkness and to enable us to fight against them.”

“A gift from whom?” Twilight countered.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “That,” she admitted, “I do not know.”

“That ignorance does not disprove her point,” Ciel declared. “The fact remains that aura is our link to the heavenly, to something more than human.”

“Can that really be true, when aura is something that all humans have the potential to access?” Twilight asked.

It was clear from the way that she bit her lip that Ciel was not happy about that answer, yet nevertheless, she did not reply, save only to say, “In any case, please continue.”

“Right,” Twilight said, speaking a little more softly. “Anyway, as I was saying, we at Dark have been researching aura, its applications, its nature, and what we’ve discovered – one of the things that we’ve discovered – is really pretty neat.” She tapped into the keyboard jutting out at a forty-five degree angle from the aura monitor, and the holographic projector burst into life, a light blue glow emitting from it as it began to project into the air in the garage.

What it projected was an amorphous green blob, shapeless yet moving gently as though it were alive, pulsing somewhat in a manner that reminded Sunset of a heart. And yet, in no other way did it resemble a heart at all; it was just a mass of something, resembling nothing.

“What is it?” Sunset asked.

“That is Penny’s aura,” Twilight explained. “It doesn’t look like anything because, well, because – and I have to admit that this is only a theory, but it’s a theory supported by all the present evidence-”

“Get to the point,” Sunset urged.

“The point is that Penny hasn’t finished figuring out who she is as a person yet,” Twilight replied.

She hasn’t found her cutie mark yet, in other words, Sunset thought.

“At least, that is the prevailing view amongst we who’ve been looking at this,” Twilight went on. “It appears that, as a person grows and develops, as they figure out who they are, their aura starts to form into… well, why don’t I show you?” She turned back to the keyboard and began to type away again. “This is… oh.”

Sunset’s eyes widened as the image on the holographic projector changed, the shapeless green mass disappearing to be replaced instead by a red rose.

And it was beautiful.

Sunset was not a great horticultural enthusiast, but she had never seen a flower so perfect as the one that was being projected before her eyes at this moment. Every petal was perfectly shaped, and there were so many petals, they rose in layers to make up the complete flower which blossomed to their view. Surely, no true rose could be so red; surely, no true rose could be shaped so consistently, without any defects of variation; surely, no true rose could hold the eye like this rose did.

“Is that you, Ruby?” Penny asked. “Your aura is… it’s so lovely.”

“And so well-formed,” Twilight murmured. “Usually, at your age – or even at our age – I’d expect much more of a work in progress. You must be astonishingly self-actualised for… not just for your age, but period.”

“Um, thanks?” Ruby muttered. “Uh… can I ask a question?”

“You don’t know what self-actualised means, do you?” Twilight asked.

“Nope.”

“It means you know exactly who you are.”

“Doesn’t everybody know that?”

Sunset laughed. “Far from it, Ruby, although life might be easier if that were true.”

“Hmm,” Twilight murmured.

“Is everything okay?” Ruby asked.

“Fascinating,” Twilight said softly as she leaned forward.

“What is it?” asked Jaune.

“These silver lines on the edges of the rose,” Twilight said, tapping the keyboard without looking at it so as to magnify the view of a single rose petal. Sure enough, the red of the petal was bordered with lines of silver around the edges, as though in adornment to a jewelled rose fashioned for ornament. “They… I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. Everyone’s aura is only ever one colour– red in Ruby’s case – so what is that silver doing there?”

“Silver eyes, silver on her aura?” Sunset suggested.

“As good a working hypothesis as any,” Twilight allowed. “Do you mind if I bring up your aura for a moment?”

“I’d rather you didn’t; it’s likely to be a little embarrassing by comparison,” Sunset remarked.

Twilight looked at her. “Do you mean that, or are you just being you?”

Sunset sighed. “Go on, get on with it.”

As she had expected, the hologram of Sunset’s aura looked rather embarrassing by comparison with Ruby’s. Everyone was too polite to say anything, but nevertheless, Sunset felt her cheeks heating up as she averted her eyes from the child’s sloppy crayon drawing of a sun being projected in front of her.

“Now, this is interesting,” Twilight said. “Your magic is green, isn’t it? That’s the colour of your shields and your energy bursts.”

“That’s right,” Sunset answered, still not looking.

“But I don’t see any green here at all.”

“That’s because my magic isn’t linked to my aura,” Sunset replied. “Just as I told you.”

“But Ruby’s is?” Twilight inquired.

“It’s a different kind of magic; it doesn’t have to obey the same rules.”

“I would have thought there’d be consistent principles behind it,” Twilight mused. “Or at least some shared bedrock. Apparently not.”

Let’s be fair, we are talking about magic from two different worlds, Sunset thought. It would be amazing if there was consistency.

Jaune took a step forward. “Does knowing that Ruby’s magic is connected to her aura in some way help you to… to help Ruby use it?”

“Hmm,” Twilight mused wordlessly. “I, um… Sunset? Do you have any ideas at all? I know that it’s not the same kind of magic, but, well, at least you have magic that you can use, so you’re still the closest thing to an expert that we have.”

“I would be an expert if we were discussing my own magic,” Sunset insisted, “but this… if it’s linked to aura, Ruby, can you focus your aura on your eyes? Maybe it just needs a strong boost, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll get Jaune to stimulate you.”

“I’ll try,” Ruby murmured, “but I’m not that good at concentrating my aura.”

“You can do it,” Pyrrha said softly. “It’s just a question of focus. Remove yourself from your surroundings and focus only upon yourself. Let the wall fall away until you are all that remains.”

“That sounds easier than it is,” Ruby commented plaintively.

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted, “but even so, I have faith in you.”

“We all do,” Jaune added.

Ruby smiled, if only for a moment, but in that moment, her eyes sparkled in the gloomy garage. But then the smile faded, and she closed her eyes and – judging by the look on her face – tried to concentrate.

It was either that, or something in her stomach disagreed with her, judging by the way that she was starting to scrunch up her face more and more.

Everyone in the garage was silent. Even Penny seemed to understand the importance of concentration for this. They all fell silent, and they all waited for Ruby, to see if anything would come of this.

Sunset herself thought it was not likely; if all it took was a sufficient application of aura, then surely, Ruby would have already had this down by now? If she just didn’t have enough aura, then… what was the point of a power that required her to have Jaune-levels of inhuman aura capacity to actually do anything with it? It would be like most unicorns not being able to do any magic because they lacked the sheer power level required. Of course, it was not so; everypony had as much magic as they needed to follow their path in life as set out by their cutie mark, and Sunset was almost certain that it was the same in this case.

She was almost certain that this was not going to work, both because Ruby ought to have enough aura ordinarily to make use of her silver eyes if aura was required and also because aura wasn’t magic. Magic in Remnant might graft itself onto aura, but aura was not the same as magic; at least, Sunset did not perceive it so.

She had mainly suggested this to buy herself a little time while she thought about other options.

Of course, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t work; if it did, that would be great for Ruby… and Sunset would have a lot to think about in regards to how she saw the powers of the world and their relationship.

Ruby’s eyes snapped open – and she cried out for a moment before shutting her eyes tight shut again.

“Ruby?” Pyrrha asked anxiously, taking a couple of steps forward. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know that if you concentrate your aura in your eyes, it makes you see better?” Ruby replied, in a pained, wincing tone. “Not a great idea to look into a light when that happens.”

“Oh my,” Pyrrha gasped. “Ruby, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“I can see a lot of colours in front of my eyes,” Ruby declared, “but I’ll be okay. Eventually.”

“I’m not detecting any unusual readings from your aura,” Twilight observed. “Or in your brain activity, for that matter. That doesn’t seem to have done anything. Perhaps if Jaune were to-”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Pyrrha said, in a firmer tone that she was often wont to use. “Considering what happened when Ruby focused just her own aura around her eyes, she might permanently damage them if Jaune were to boost her aura in that area.”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to do that,” Jaune added. “Besides, if it’s about aura, then Ruby ought to be able to activate it with her own aura, right?”

“You make a good point,” Sunset murmured, phrasing it as a concession and not something that she had already known before she suggested a pointless exercise to Ruby. “Twilight, how is that machine working out that Ruby’s aura looks like that?”

“It’s very technical.”

“Try me.”

“It’s measuring the responses to multi-spectral animatropic resonance cascades.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “What in the cages of Tartarus are 'multi-spectral animatropic resonance cascades'?”

“I warned you it was very technical,” Twilight replied. “Basically, it’s an ultrasound for the soul.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Of course, it is still a very young science.”

“More like pseudoscience,” Sunset muttered. 'Multi-spectral animatropic resonance,' what kind of word salad is that?

“Sunset, do you have an idea?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know,” Sunset growled. “I have always known that my magic was there, and so the fact that you can’t just sense it is… frustrating.”

“But not too surprising,” Jaune said. “You might have always been able to sense your magic, but I didn’t know that my aura was there until Pyrrha unlocked it in the forest.”

“But Ruby does know that her aura is there,” Sunset said. “So are you sure that you can’t feel any… growths, for want of a better word, upon it?”

Ruby shook her head. “I can’t feel anything except my aura.” She paused. “So, even when you were starting to learn magic, you never had to work to… to get it out of you?”

“I had to work, but that isn’t the same as not being able to feel it there at all,” Sunset replied. “But… maybe there is something that I can do, but not here. I’d need to… to think about it a little more.” Think about it and consult with Princess Twilight. “Twilight, is there nothing that you can do?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Twilight admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like this before; this is… it’s amazing that we were able to pick this up on Ruby’s aura, but apart from that… I mean, we could try running a charge through Ruby’s eyes and see if that jumpstarts something-”

“I don’t think that’s a particularly good idea,” Pyrrha said firmly.

“No, probably not,” Twilight admitted. She sighed dispiritedly. “I’m sorry, guys; this has been a complete bust. Like everything else lately.”

“'Everything else'?” Penny repeated. “What do you mean, Twilight? Things have been going wonderfully so far, haven’t they?”

“I meant… it doesn’t matter, Penny; you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, Ruby. I’ll keep studying the data that we’ve collected; maybe I’ll have a brainwave.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ruby said. “If you figure something out, then that’s great; if not… my mother managed to figure it out, and I’m sure I’ll get there eventually.”

Twilight smiled thinly. “That’s very kind of you, but it doesn’t stop me feeling like I’ve just wasted all of your time.”

“It’s okay,” Ruby insisted. “Even though it didn’t work, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth a shot.”

“Like I said, it’s very kind of you to say so,” Twilight murmured. “Do you need any help getting out of all the equipment?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Ruby said, pulling off the aura monitor. “Do you need help putting all of this stuff away?”

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine,” Twilight said, and with a little rustling and popping, Ruby, Sunset, and Penny unplugged themselves from all the scientific instruments. Pyrrha put one arm around Ruby’s shoulder as the two of them – and Jaune and Penny – started towards the garage door which opened to admit the light into the dark, enclosed space.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll catch up,” Sunset assured them.

Ciel looked at Sunset for a moment, and something unspoken passed between them; she nodded at Sunset – a curt nod, but at the same time a courteous one – and joined Penny and the others in leaving the garage, leaving Sunset and Twilight alone.

Their footsteps and the sounds of their talk died away.

“I really don’t need help packing up,” Twilight insisted as she knelt down on the ground and began to gather up wires.

“Maybe I just feel helpful,” Sunset replied, using her telekinesis to pick up some cables off the floor and bundled them up in a coil. “So, what’s up?”

“You mean more than my sense of failure?” Twilight asked.

“You aren’t having a sense of failure because this one thing didn’t work out.”

“Aren’t I?” Twilight responded. “I’ve spent half my life searching for magic, and now that I’ve found it, I can’t understand it at all.”

“It’s your first try,” Sunset reminded her. “You think I mastered every spell on my first try? Sometimes, it took until my second try.”

Twilight looked up, a chuckled escaping her lips.

“But seriously,” Sunset said, flopping back down into the old chair, “the study of magic is not something that can be rushed. Amongst my people, some… people spend their whole lives devoted to it.”

“I don’t have the luxury of a whole life to devote to it.”

“You’ve got more than the time we spent here.”

“I know,” Twilight said. “It’s just…”

“It’s just that something else is bothering you,” Sunset said. “Something related to Penny.”

Twilight froze. “What makes you say that?”

“You clammed up when she asked you what was wrong,” Sunset said. “You didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Twilight rose to her feet. “Penny… can be sensitive,” she confessed. “We never want to upset her.” She sat down in the chair recently vacated by Ruby. “It’s not just Penny,” she clarified. “It’s also the fact that I haven’t been able to trace the source of the video exposing Blake. Whoever they are, the means they undertook to protect themselves are incredibly sophisticated, and I… It just feels like I’m failing at everything that people are counting on me to accomplish.”

“How are you letting down Penny?”

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe I can help?” Sunset offered.

Twilight frowned. She hesitated for a moment before pulling out her scroll and opening it up. Her fingers, lithe and delicate, flew across the screen to conjure up a holographic sword, a weapon that, at first glance, seemed to be one of Penny’s weapons. With both hands, balancing the scroll upon her lap, Twilight reached for the holographic sword and began to pull it apart, dismantling what would have been the hilt if this had been a normal sword, turning it into its component parts.

“Is it classified?” Sunset asked. “Is that why you can’t say anything?”

Twilight’s hand began to glow with a faint purple light as she levitated a chocolate bar – one of the big, chunky ones that came in detachable blocks – out of her bag and into her waiting hand. She kept her eyes on Sunset as her hands unwrapped the chocolate. “Do you know anything about complex robotics?”

Sunset folded her arms and said nothing while she looked at Twilight’s hologram. She was embarrassed to admit that it took her a moment to realise that it wasn’t actually one of Penny’s swords; the blade was the same, but the rear – the ‘hilt’ and the ‘pommel’ for want of better words – were much larger and bulkier than Penny’s actual blades.

“Let me see,” Sunset said. “You’re not paying any attention to the blade or the laser cannon, but you have got a receiver and a dust battery which Penny doesn’t need right now unless… you want to take her wireless, don’t you?”

Twilight said nothing, but her silence said everything that Sunset needed it to.

Sunset kept her voice reasonably low. “I’m guessing that wireless weapons were always your original goal, but that you couldn’t make it work, and so, you had to go with wire filaments, and now… you haven’t given up hope.”

Twilight frowned and sighed as she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that it didn’t work,” she said. “The wireless system works just fine: a dust battery for independent power and a receiver to pick up the command signals from Penny – she even has the transmitter built in; it’s just a redundant system right now. The swords already have thrusters for guidance and propulsion. The problem is that the power pack and the receiver made the back end of the sword too big to fit inside Penny’s back-pack in the numbers required.” Twilight sighed again. “It’s far from ideal, but the council demanded results. General Ironwood couldn’t stall them any longer. Hence, wires, and Penny will be stuck with wires unless I can figure out some way to miniaturize all this, and I just can’t see it!” She picked up the scroll and threw it away; only Sunset grabbing it in the embrace of her own telekinesis stopped it from clattering onto the garage floor.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said. “I just… I’ve been working on this for months, and I don’t feel like I’m any closer to getting it now than when I started.”

“You need to have that many swords?” Sunset asked.

Twilight nodded wearily. “The mega-cannon mode requires the power of that many individual lasers in order to achieve the mandated armour penetration; for the same reason, we can’t just reduce the output of the individual lasers in order to get away with a smaller battery, not that the savings in size are anything like commensurate with the reductions in capacity anyway.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. From an interested lay perspective, she could understand why Twilight was having issues with this. Dust was the most efficient form of energy generation in Remnant, so if a dust power pack was too big, then there didn’t seem to be much hope for anything else.

Assuming that it needs an actual power pack. “Can you not just use a battery, charged from Penny herself when she’s not using the weapons?”

Twilight shook her head. “It would work, but in order to get a battery small enough, you’d have to accept an unacceptably low combat time.”

“What’s unacceptably low?” Sunset said. “Most battles aren’t drawn out.”

“Most individual actions are not drawn out,” Twilight corrected. “Penny can’t just despatch a group of beowolves and call it quits necessarily; she might need to have to respond to situations across a wide area for hours, maybe days without respite.”

“Because now that you have Penny, you’re planning to retire the Atlesian Corps of Specialists,” Sunset replied. “Come on, you know that no flesh and blood huntress would be asked to rush up and down a full-scale battlefield like that; individual teams and units would have their own sectors and only respond to other areas in an emergency.”

“I know,” Twilight said softly, “but we both know that Penny isn’t a flesh and blood huntress. The council expects to be able to push her harder and take greater risks with her, and she needs to be able to handle it. She needs to be able to fight for hours, days, maybe weeks without stopping. And she needs to have all of these stupid wires out of the way.” She took her head in her hands, shaking it despairingly. “There must be an answer to this, right? This isn’t an insurmountable problem.”

“I don’t believe in insurmountable problems,” Sunset said. “Is there any reason you can’t just expand the backpack to make room?”

“She also needs to look appealing to civilians, so that they trust her,” Twilight explained. “Apparently, big, bulky backpacks aren’t cute.”

Sunset whistled. “Whoever set these parameters was doing you no favours.”

“I know,” Twilight groaned. “That’s one of the reasons I was keen to give helping Ruby a shot: I could use a break from pushing this boulder up the hill.”

“You can only bang your head against the wall for so long before it starts to hurt.”

“Tell me about it,” Twilight said. “Sunset, to go back to the topic of Ruby for a second, can I ask you something?”

Sunset plucked Twilight’s chocolate out of her hand. “You can ask me whatever you like,” she said as she broke off a piece of the bar.

Twilight stared at her.

Sunset offered Twilight her own chocolate back, even as she put the stolen piece into her mouth.

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Okay, why not?” she said, a slight trace of a sigh in her voice as she took the sweet back from Sunset. “Do you… is there any way that you could… give me some of your magic?”

Sunset choked on the piece of chocolate making its way down her throat. Her eyes bulged and then began to water as she broke out in a violent coughing fit, her throat straining as she struggled to eject the blockage.

“Sunset?” Twilight. “Sunset, are you okay? Oh, gods, let me help you!” She leapt up and darted around Sunset, hammering her back as hard as she was able to until the offending piece of chocolate flew out of Sunset’s mouth and landed on the floor not far from her bike. “I’m so, so sorry about that. Do you need a drink of water?”

Sunset wiped at her eyes with one hand, regretting the blow to her dignity as she struggled to get her breath back. “No, I don’t need a drink of water,” she said, although her throat did feel very, very sore right now. Every time she swallowed, it was like ripping off a bandage. “I need you to… give you my magic?”

“Not all of it,” Twilight replied, a trifle defensively. “I just… if I can study it in more controlled conditions, then maybe I could actually understand how it works well enough to be some help to Ruby.”

“But it’s my magic,” Sunset said. “Given to me, a part of me.”

“I’m not asking for all of it,” Twilight said. “Just some.”

“Would you ask me for just some of my aura?”

“Um, well, uh… you see… so is it possible?” Twilight asked.

“I… don’t know,” Sunset admitted. Complete transfer was certainly possible, but partial? That was something she was a lot less certain of.

“Would you do it if it was?”

“No,” Sunset said at once. “This is… this is my magic, Twilight. My… my gift. Bestowed on me by… by destiny, that I could make my mark upon the world; if I give this up, if I give it to you or anybody else… without this, I am nothing.”

“You’re being very overdramatic,” Twilight replied. “Even without your magic, you’d still be-”

“Without my magic, I’d be the underperformer I was in Canterlot,” Sunset said sharply, “and don’t deny it.” Compared to Pyrrha or Rainbow or Ruby, I’d be pathetic, a joke. I’d be worth less than Jaune! “I will not suffer that. Not for anyone, and certainly not for the benefit of your understanding.”

Twilight didn’t bother to conceal the disappointment on her face. Her lips crinkled visibly. “If I can’t experience, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to understand,” she said. “And if I can’t understand, I don’t know how I can help.”

“That is a pity,” Sunset said, “but it does not change my answer in the least.”

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: So, this chapter changed pretty dramatically in pretty much every way, to the extent where picking out what changed feels rather facile. About the only thing that stayed the same was Sunset and Twilight's conversation about Penny.

Treat Her Right (New)

Treat Her Right

The common room was on the first floor of the dorm room, not far from the kitchenette; it was spacious enough for several teams at once to mingle and would have made a much better space for everyone to gather last night if it weren’t for the fact that they had needed seclusion and security to share their secrets.

The furniture was red, as per Beacon standard, and the floors were plain, uncarpeted wood. A projector that students could use as a TV was set on a metallic stand at the back of the room, in front of the windows.

Sun was lying on one of the sofas, trying to use one of the cushions as a pillow.

Judging by the way that he was turning over and over, it didn’t seem to be working very well.

Sunset, who had just come in carrying the books that Twilight had given her underneath her arm, saw him lying there, still dressed – or as close to dressed as Sun could be said to ever be, given his penchant for wandering around with his chest bared – with only his removed shoes a concession to what he was doing.

She stared down at him for a moment and seriously considered going back to her dorm room before curiosity got the better of her. “Sun?”

Sun looked up, bleary-eyed. “Wh- Sunset?”

“Good morning,” Sunset said.

“Hey,” Sun groaned. “These cushions aren’t very soft, are they?”

“I’m surprised that a tough Vacuan like yourself needs a snuggly pillow to lay his head,” Sunset remarked. “Shouldn’t you be able to make do with a rock?”

“Hey, don’t lump me in with Nebula and the rest of those jerks,” Sun replied. “I don’t see that there’s anything wrong with wanting to be comfortable if we can be.”

“One of the smartest things you’ve said since I met you,” Sunset observed. “So, if you’re not practicing masochism to prove that you are, indeed, a Hard Man from a Hard Land who is so much Harder than all of us soft, decadent city folk, what are you doing sleeping on the couch?”

“Oh, uh, you see… my team kicked me out.”

Sunset blinked. “Come again?”

“Scarlet said that if I wasn’t going to stick with my team, then I could find somewhere else to sleep,” Sun explained. “They really weren’t happy about me going off with Blake and the Atlesians.”

“Well, I can’t say I don’t see why,” Sunset murmured as she sat down on the arm of the sofa, her back half-turned away from Sun so that she had to twist her whole body around to look at him. “You do have a habit of ditching them for Blake.”

“She’s important to me,” Sun said, stating the obvious.

“Somehow, I suspect that that doesn’t mollify your team very much,” Sunset replied.

“No, I guess not,” Sun moaned. “But what am I supposed to do? Blake matters to me, like a lot. Like… more than anything in the world. How am I supposed to ignore it when she needs me?”

Sunset was of the opinion that Blake didn’t really need Sun’s help – not when she had Team RSPT backing her up, anyway – but at the same time, she couldn’t deny that hearing him say those words was… it touched something in her heart in a way that her heart had not been touched for quite some time. It might be stupid, it might have gotten Sun into trouble with his team, it might be unnecessary, but that was what a good boyfriend was supposed to say, damn it! This was what Flash should have said, instead of ditching Sunset the moment their relationship became inconvenient for his reputation.

Sun was an idiot in some ways, but he was also a very good boy. Blake was lucky to have him. Sunset wondered if she understood just how lucky she was.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Don’t turn away,” Sunset instructed him. “Don’t ignore it. Go to her, every single time, and to hell with Team Sun. Be a man. Be Blake’s man. Stand by her side, no matter what, because that’s what a good man does when he loves a woman.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Sunset said with absolute conviction. “Don’t you agree that Blake deserves to be treated like a queen?”

“Of course she does.”

“Then be her good servant: loyal and faithful and true,” Sunset instructed him. She got up. “Now, come on, follow me.”

“Where?”

“Back to the dorm room; you can sleep on my camp bed for as long as you like until I need it.”

“You mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it; my heart’s not made of stone, you know,” Sunset snapped, and snapped her fingers at the same time. “Come on, lover boy, let’s go.”

He followed her, the softer padding of his footsteps a counterpoint to the heavier tread of Sunset’s boots as she led him back the way that she had come, down the corridor, past the dorm room doors, until at last, they stood once again – once again for Sunset, anyway – before the door into the Team SAPR dorm room.

Sunset tucked the books that she had hoped to read – not that there wouldn’t be plenty of time to go back to the common room once she’d tucked Sun in and seen him settled – while she fished her scroll out of her jacket pocket and used it to open the door.

The latch clicked, and Sunset pushed it open.

Jaune was the sole occupant of the dorm room, sitting on his bed and reading one of the history textbooks with an intense frown upon his face. Ruby was with Yang, while Pyrrha was… Sunset wasn’t entirely sure where Pyrrha was, or Blake, for that matter. But they weren’t here; Jaune was the sole other presence in the room.

He looked up as Sunset came in, Sun following behind her.

“You’re back early,” Jaune said. “And, oh hey, Sun, what are you doing here?”

“I found him crashing on the couch in the common room and invited him to use my bed for a little bit,” Sunset declared. “I hope you don’t mind if I take my unicorn,” she added, summoning it into her free hand with telekinesis. “I don’t like strangers getting their hands on him.”

“I don’t need a cuddly toy; I just need a bed I can lie on,” Sun declared.

“Uh, what’s the matter with the bed in your own room?” Jaune asked.

“Don’t worry, man. I’ll be cool,” Sun assured him. “I don’t snore or anything; you won’t even know that I’m here.”

“Good to know,” Jaune admitted, “but all the same, what’s the matter with the bed in your dorm room?”

“The fact that it’s behind a locked door,” Sun groaned.

“His teammates have kicked him out,” Sunset explained.

Jaune frowned. “How did they manage to lock you out of your own dorm room?”

“Neptune’s a genius nerd,” Sun moaned as he climbed into Sunset’s bed.

“Hey!” Sunset snapped. “Take your shoes off first; this is a civilised dorm room.” And I don’t want mud or whatever else is on your shoes on my bed.

“Right, sorry,” Sun muttered, as he kicked off his shoes. “I really do appreciate this.”

“Someone can really do that?” Jaune demanded. “Lock a team member out of their dorm room?”

“It’s actually not that difficult,” Sunset said. “All you have to do is either disable the recognition on the door’s sensors of that particular scroll – which is also the way that you’d allow access to anyone outside the team – or you could hack into the scroll itself and disable the subcommand that enabled it to respond to the door sensor.”

“Do I want to know how you know that?” Jaune said, a trace of a whimper in his voice.

“I considered using access as a way to motivate you,” Sunset informed him bluntly, “but you didn’t need that kind of… stern encouragement.” Not to mention, it would have been hard to get it past Ruby and Pyrrha.

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “So… your teammates have locked you out, huh?”

“Yep,” Sun sighed as he pulled the blanket over him.

“Because of Blake?”

“Because I kept ditching them.”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Have you told them you’re sorry?”

Sun looked up and pushed himself up on his elbows. “Huh?”

“You know, maybe if you apologised they’d, let you back in?”

Sun shrugged. “They probably would,” he admitted. “Well, Neptune would. I don’t know about Scarlet; he’s had it in for me from Initiation; he thinks I took his spot as team leader.”

“What about…?” Sunset began, before she realised that she didn’t know the name of the fourth member of Team SSSN.

“Sage?” Sun suggested. “I never really know what he’s thinking; he’s kind of the strong, silent type.”

“Are you sure it’s not just the fact that you’re never around?” Jaune suggested.

“Heh, yeah, there’s probably some of that in there, too,” Sun acknowledged without a trace of shame in his voice. “But, anyway, maybe apologising would work, but it wouldn’t feel right to apologise if I didn’t mean it.”

Jaune blinked rapidly. “If you… you’re not the slightest bit ashamed of what you did, are you?”

“And he shouldn’t be,” Sunset declared.

“You’re on his side?” Jaune squawked in astonishment.

Sunset shrugged. “Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be on his side?”

“Because you’re you!” Jaune exclaimed.

“And Sun’s gallantry has touched my romantic sensibilities,” Sunset asserted magisterially.

“Come on, Sunset, we both know that if I was dating Weiss and I had ditched the rest of this team to join Wisteria on a field mission, you’d have hung my guts from the curtain rail by now.”

Sunset narrowed her eyes. “Would you rather be dating Weiss?”

“No, of course not!” Jaune yelled. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

“What I know,” Sunset said, “is that you could learn a thing or two from this young man.” She gestured at Sun with her stuffed unicorn.

“If you guys are going to have a fight, could you do it outside?” Sun asked, as he laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

“This is our dorm room!” Jaune exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” Sunset assured him as she walked towards Jaune, who scrambled to his feet as she approached.

Sunset looked up at him and into his eyes. He was a nice boy… he seemed like a nice boy… but then, Flash had seemed like a nice boy too, which was one of the reasons why Sunset had made the mistake of making him her rock. And Pyrrha… Pyrrha wasn’t as emotionally resilient as Sunset was.

Hesitation robbed her of the power of speech. Was this even necessary? Did she really need to give Jaune the talk? Was he really going to treat Pyrrha like trash?

You never can tell with guys.

Oh, come on, really? When he was sleeping in the same room as Pyrrha, Ruby, and Sunset, was he really going to bring all that down on him by acting like – as an older generation might have put it – like a cad?

What’s the harm in nipping it in the bud before it gets that far?

Well, Jaune might think that she had a low opinion of him, for one?

No, you just have a low opinion of teenage boys.

Yeah, but how likely was it that Jaune was going to do something bad? He was a nice boy-

You thought the same about Flash.

But that was different. Pyrrha was in love with him.

Like you were in love with Flash.

She wasn’t really, though, was she? She’d gotten over it.

Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that.

None of that meant that Jaune was going to turn out anything like the same way.

But what if he does?

“Sunset?” Jaune asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset snapped up at him. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I just… I’m trying to work out whether I need to… ugh… just don’t hurt Pyrrha, okay?”

Jaune stared down at her, his blue eyes seeming especially innocent as he blinked down at her. “Huh?”

“You…” Sunset stopped herself from just saying ‘you heard,’ for fear it might sound too surly on her part. “Don’t hurt Pyrrha. She…” Sunset also stopped herself from saying ‘she loves you,’ because if Jaune didn’t realise that – and Pyrrha hadn’t told him – then it wasn’t Sunset’s job to tell him. “She doesn’t deserve it. So if this is some love ‘em and leave ‘em thing where you walk away as soon as you can say you tapped Pyrrha Nikos, or you’re going to get bored in a few weeks and move on, or-“

“Sunset, come on,” Jaune interrupted her. “How can you say stuff like that?”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“Isn’t it? Because it sounds pretty personal to me!”

Sunset groaned. “This is what I was worried about; I’m not telling you this so that you can get offended, okay? I know that you’re a nice guy, but I’ve been let down by nice guys in the past. Badly. And I don’t want that for Pyrrha, because she’s my friend, and I don’t want her to get hurt. She doesn’t deserve it, she’s too-”

“I know what Pyrrha is,” Jaune said. “I know exactly what a wonderful person she is and how little she deserves to get treated like… like that. And I would never do that! You’re not the only person who cares about Pyrrha.”

“I know,” Sunset said, perhaps a little too sharply. She softened her tone. “I know. I just… you’re a boy, and boys can change so suddenly…” She sighed. “Or perhaps I’m just projecting like crazy.” She sighed again and even more deeply this time. “I really didn’t come here to offend you or upset you or… anything, really. I just-”

“Wanted to help Pyrrha,” Jaune said softly. “I get that. And it’s okay. I mean, sure, I was upset at first when you acted like I might… come on, I’ve got seven sisters. I know how to treat girls.”

“Really?” Sunset asked. “How’s that?”

“With a deep respect born out of fear and a knowledge that they know where you sleep,” Jaune said without hesitation.

Sunset couldn’t help but snort with laughter. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

Jaune smiled. “I… I don’t know how long this is going to last… but that’s only because I don’t know how long Pyrrha is going to be satisfied with a guy like me when she’s so… you know.”

If only you knew.

“I don’t know if I can make her happy,” Jaune continued. “But I’m going to try, for however long she lets me.

Sunset looked at him for a moment, looking at his earnest face, looking into his eyes. “You… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I bruised your pride a little; and for what else it might be worth… I think you are a good guy, and I should have trusted you.”

“It’s okay,” Jaune repeated. “What are friends for except looking out for one another, right?”

“Yeah… right,” Sunset murmured. “Anyway…” Her tail swished uncertainly back from side to side. “So, I’m going to… yeah. You… you think about what I said, okay? Just… think about it. And…” And treat her right.

Sunset didn’t flee the room. She most emphatically did not flee the room. She simply left it, at a very fast and slightly undignified pace.

Jaune watched her go, the door closing behind her with a little more firmness than strictly necessary.

He watched her go, and he felt sorry for her. He couldn’t bring himself to feel offended for himself; he didn’t blame her for what she’d said; not because she had reason to say it – she didn’t, and she ought to have known him well enough to know that she didn’t – but because… okay, back up a second. She had no reason to think that he would betray Pyrrha like that, no reason to suspect that his intentions were anything but pure, no reason to think that he wasn’t in this for as long as Pyrrha would have him. And it was a question of how long Pyrrha would have him, because, well, why shouldn’t get bored of a guy like him? Why wouldn’t she wake up and realise that she could do so much better than Jaune Arc? Why wouldn’t the most beautiful, kindest, bravest, strongest girl their age move on from a loser whose only attractive feature was being clueless? But if things ended – as Jaune felt certain, Pyrrha’s protestations of love aside, that they would end – then it wouldn’t be because he had ended them.

So Sunset had no reason on that count to say anything like that to him, to grill him, to press him, but for the other reasons that she had to say it, well… those reasons, he couldn’t deny, and it was for those reasons that he felt sorry for her.

The more things went on, the more certain Jaune became that Flash Sentry had done Sunset Shimmer dirty. It wasn’t obvious at first, because Flash was such a genial guy, so affable and good-natured, while Sunset was prickly and hard-edged; not to mention the fact that the venom that Sunset had for Flash sometimes got lost under the noise of her attitude towards other people. Plus, the fact that there were times in Jaune’s school life when he hadn’t been particularly inclined to feel very sorry for Sunset or to look too closely at her problems. Not to mention that he’d had enough of his own problems at other times or even at some of those same times.

But the more he looked, the more he felt as though Flash must have done something to really hurt Sunset, and the more he felt as though he couldn’t just ignore that fact. Sunset could be difficult, and she was proud and stubborn, and she thought she was so smart, even though she was making terrible decisions… but she was also their team leader, and she was a leader who would always have your back, even if she complained about it all the while. She had forced him to get a grip, and even though she had tried to use him as an accessory to bullying as part of a petty revenge scheme, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she had saved his place at Beacon too, and he knew – he knew in his gut – that she would do the same for Ruby or Pyrrha if either of them found themselves in trouble like that.

Sunset… Sunset took care of them, and Jaune felt as though they ought to take care of her as well, since they were a team.

Plus, there was the fact that if Flash really was hiding a dark side, then, well, just because he had lost interest in Weiss didn’t mean that he wanted to see her end up in the arms of someone whose fair face hid a black heart.

He wasn’t sure exactly what he could do, or ought to do to help Sunset with her problem, but he felt increasingly sure that he ought to – had to – do something.

Perhaps Pyrrha would know what to do. He should definitely speak to her about it before he did anything.

In the meantime… Jaune’s eyes were drawn towards Sun, where the nominal leader of Team SSSN was lying in bed with the blanket pulled up so high that it almost hid his face.

“Hey,” Jaune said. “Are you still awake?”

“Unfortunately,” Sun muttered.

“How long have you been sleeping on sofas?”

“Since we got back from the train mission,” Sun grunted. He lifted his head up a little bit so that he could look at Jaune. “How are you doing, by the way?”

“Distance helps,” Jaune said. “So does having stuff to take my mind off it.” He frowned. “How come no one has noticed you sleeping around the common room before?”

“People noticed; they just didn’t care or thought it was funny.”

Jaune winced. “That’s rough,” he said. He paused. “Listen, Sun… when Sunset let you in here, did she say anything to you?”

Sun hesitated. “Uh, yeah, she told me I’d done the right thing and that I shouldn’t feel guilty about it.”

Jaune rolled his eyes. “I meant what I said, by the way; if I pulled a stunt like that, I’d think myself lucky if all she did was lock me out of the room.”

“Yeah, but you’re on the same team as your girlfriend,” Sun protested. “Are you telling me that if you were on a different team from Pyrrha, then would you let anything stop you from heading into danger with her?”

“I might let the three other people who I’m supposed to be facing danger with let it stop me,” Jaune replied. “I mean… sure, I get it, and I’m glad that I’m not in your position… but it would be kind of insulting to Sunset and Ruby and…” – he plucked a name out of the air – “Yang to act like I was the only one who could help Pyrrha and keep her safe, and it would be doubly insulting to Ren and Nora and Dove if I kept ditching them and letting them go into danger without me. Triply so if I was supposed to be leading them into battle. I mean, don’t you care about your teammates at all? Doesn’t it matter to you that they might have to face real danger without you? Without anyone? They’ll be a man down against grimm or bandits or the White Fang, and in the meantime… what? Do you think that Blake can’t take care of herself? Do you think that Team Rosepetal doesn’t have her back? Do you think that we don’t have her back?”

“I know that Blake doesn’t need me!” Sun cried. “I get it, okay. You don’t need to rub it in. I know that Blake is surrounded by great people, and they’re all so much better than I am, trust me.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Sun nodded. “I want… I need to show Blake that I… that I’m more than just some bum, you know? I know… I know she doesn’t love me. I know she doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about her, but maybe… maybe if I show her that I’m the kind of guy who… who understands the things that matter to her and fights for them like she does then… then maybe… I don’t know.”

Jaune sighed. “Listen… I’m not great at this stuff either, so don’t take my word for it, but I think… I think that if you want to show Blake a different side of you, then maybe, instead of chasing her around, you should show her that you’re the kind of person that… not just the kind of person that she can rely on, but the kind of person that everyone can rely on… the kind of person that I think Blake would like to become. I mean, look at Sunset. Look at Rainbow Dash. Blake has a lot of respect for both of them-”

“Are you saying you don’t think Blake respects me?”

Jaune hesitated. “I… don’t really know?”

“Thanks, dude.”

“The point is that Blake doesn’t respect them because they both fall down at her feet and always go running off after her.”

“Both of them have done exactly that,” Sun pointed out.

“Yeah, okay, but they didn’t ditch their… okay, they both did that too, but not in the same way that you did,” Jaune insisted. “You know exactly what I’m talking about: Blake respects both of them because they’re good leaders, because they take their responsibilities seriously, because she knows that… that we can all rely on them if we need to. And maybe that’s what you need to show her.”

“Is that what you show Pyrrha?” Sun asked. “That everyone can rely on you?”

“Pyrrha… I still don’t really get what I did to get so lucky with Pyrrha.”

Sun sighed. “I envy you, man.”

“Hey, don’t put yourself down too much; you’re still with Blake, after all,” Jaune reminded him. “I suppose what I’m really trying to say is, don’t put too much stock in Sunset’s dating advice.”

“Okay,” Sun murmured. “What’s up with her? Is she okay?”

When it comes to guys, I don’t think she is. “I don’t know,” Jaune lied. “I’ve really got no idea.”

Pyrrha had texted Dove, asking him to meet her under the shadow of the huntsman statue, but when she got there, she found that he had beaten her to their meeting place: he was sitting in front of the snarling beowolf – with the result that it looked a little as though it was about to pounce on him – reading Fairy Tales of Remnant. He must have heard her footsteps on the courtyard stone, because he looked up as Pyrrha drew near and scrambled to his feet.

"You don't have to get up," Pyrrha told him.

Dove smiled. "I think my grandmother would rise out of her grave and whack me with a broom handle if I didn't," he said. "Good manners were very important to her."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Well, if it means that much to you, then I can't stop you. Thank you for meeting me."

"It's not a problem," Dove assured her. "Plus, I'm a little curious as to why you want to talk to me specifically."

He had reason to be curious; it wasn't as though they interacted a great deal; even when Teams SAPR and YRDN interacted with one another, Dove was very easily drowned out by the more vocal and expressive personalities on his team. It made Pyrrha feel a little guilty about the fact that their first meaningful interaction was to ask him for a favour. She glanced down and fiddled momentarily with her red sash.

"I'm afraid that I would like to ask for something from you, however little right I have to ask it."

"You have the right to ask for whatever you like," Dove said. "Just as I have the right to say no."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. "You know… or you might not know… I've been training Jaune in swordplay."

"He has been improving by leaps and bounds," Dove told her. "The general opinion in the dorm room – and in Team Bluebell's dorm room, come to that – is that you've got something to do with it."

"Indeed," Pyrrha said softly; she found that she was not particularly surprised to hear that. It was no slight on Jaune to admit that he had arrived at Beacon in need of some instruction, and it made sense that she would be the one to provide him with that instruction. "Are there any… dissenting opinions?"

"Lyra thinks that Jaune was holding back when he first arrived at Beacon, so as to make himself seem weaker than he was so that his transformation would seem all the more impressive," Dove explained. "Like a sun hidden behind the clouds seems to shine brighter when the clouds disperse than a clear day ever can; her words, not mine."

Pyrrha smiled. "That would be a fine thing, if it was true, but… the general opinion is right; I have been giving Jaune some assistance. And I'm glad to hear you say that Jaune has improved; it shows that my judgement isn't blinded by… by my affection for him." She looked up into Dove's round face. "The trouble is… the trouble is that Jaune can't see the scale of his improvement because… because he's still some way away from beating me."

"Yang aside, we're all a long way from beating you," Dove said.

"I didn't come here to be flattered," Pyrrha said gently. "The point is… I was hoping that you might agree to become Jaune's sparring partner-"

"Because I'm much closer to his level than you are, and he can gauge his progress against me much more effectively?" Dove asked.

"I didn't mean to insult you," Pyrrha said quickly.

Dove held up one hand. "You didn't. My grandfather used to say that if you were insulted by the truth, then you either had too much pride or too thin a skin. I know that you're set high above me in your skill at arms. I know that I have work to do to climb the mountain that divides us." He fell silent, leaving Pyrrha unsure of whether he would agree to her request or not.

Nevertheless, she did not press him on it. She was, after all, asking him for a favour; impatience would hardly become her in this situation.

Pyrrha waited, as Dove half-turned away from her, his lips moving silently.

"I can do one night a week," he said. "In return for something from you."

"What?" Pyrrha asked.

"While you've been tutoring Jaune, I've been helping Lyra," Dove informed her. "She was a little better than Jaune at the start of the year, but I think he'd beat her now. Consequence of the difference in teachers; Lyra isn't as fortunate in her friends or teammates as Jaune is, so she's stuck with me instead of the Champion of Mistral."

Pyrrha didn't reply to that; there was no need, in her opinion; Dove would probably resent being patronised as much as Jaune did, but on the other hand, there was no need to lord her superior skill over him.

"If I give a night over to Jaune," Dove continued, "will you help Lyra on that night? I'm sure you can show her things I've not even considered."

Pyrrha smiled. "Of course," she said, warmly and readily. "You train every night?"

"No, three nights a week," Dove said. "Do you train every night?"

"Almost every night, unless there's a good reason not to."

"What about having fun?"

"Jaune… is determined to get better," Pyrrha said carefully, hoping that it didn't sound like she was suggesting Lyra was not… even though that was, to an extent, what she was suggesting.

"So does Lyra," Dove replied, a little defensively. "But she couldn't spend all her time practicing. What about homework?"

"I manage," Pyrrha murmured. "And Jaune… is fortunate to have Sunset and myself to assist him. Besides, we train every night but not all night."

"I see," Dove said. "You are truly blessed to have a mind as sharp as the edge of your sword."

"Fortune smiled upon me at my birth, and many other times after," Pyrrha agreed. "Shall I let you speak to Lyra and decide which day suits her best? If she even wants my help; she may not."

"True, in which case, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't be able to help Jaune."

"Of course. I understand," Pyrrha said. If that was the case, then her next call would be Blake, who fought with a sword sometimes, even if it was in quite an alien fashion to the style that she had been teaching Jaune. There was always Sunset, who now had a sword – courtesy of Pyrrha's mother – and who fought in a fighting style that could be called static, but Pyrrha thought that Sunset was too inexperienced with the blade; Jaune still needed to be challenged by his opponent. "I don't suppose that you know anything about attacking with your aura? Expelling it out through your blade, I mean."

"You mean like Ren?" Dove asked. "But with a sword? Is that possible?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I've seen it done, but I… I understand the theory, but not having ever trained it in myself, it's not something I could pass on to Jaune."

"And you thought I would know something you would not?"

"My mother – and the tutors she hired – taught me that expending your aura thus in an attack was a blunt instrument," Pyrrha said. "I was taught to be precise, but Jaune has the aura to spare for such attacks, in moderation. I wondered if you might have the skill."

"I'm afraid not," Dove said. "Although you've made me curious about it now. I might ask Ren if it is something he can teach me. In the meantime, I'll speak to Lyra, and let you know what she says."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "I appreciate your willingness to help me and Jaune."

Dove shrugged. "We're on different teams, but we all share a common purpose, don't we? We are… the light against the darkness, if that doesn't sound too pompous."

"Not at all. I think it's perfect," Pyrrha said, "and perfectly accurate too. You helping Jaune and I helping Lyra: what benefits one benefits us all."

Blake was not blind to the fact that there was a degree of risk involved in walking around the campus with a book written by a faunus political prisoner in her arms, and she was certainly not unaware that she might have been better off reading this in the SAPR dorm room. But she had no intention of spending her entire time at Beacon cooped up in that room, and the book that she was carrying with her wasn’t a White Fang recruiting pamphlet; it didn’t advocate terrorism as a means of advancing political objectives; quite the opposite, if Twilight’s summation of it was correct.

There was no reason on Remnant why she shouldn’t take it to the library this morning and start to read it.

Plus, everyone else was in class by now.

So Blake walked into the library, the door swinging shut behind her, carrying Prison Journals pressed against her chest, title turned away from the world.

“Hey, Blake?”

Blake stopped, her golden eyes widening at the burly figure who had just emerged from out of the stacks in front of her. “Tukson?”

Tukson smiled warmly. “It’s been a little while, hasn’t it?”

“'It’s been a…'” Blake fought to hold back the cry of irritation that threatened to rise up from her throat. “I went to the hospital to see how you were, and they told me you’d gone!”

“Yeah, I got discharged a few days ago.”

“I couldn’t call you!”

“They took my scroll away for my own protection, or something.”

“You… how long have you been here?” Blake demanded.

“Since I got out of hospital,” Tukson explained. “Professor Ozpin explained that it probably wasn’t safe for me to go back to the bookshop right away, since the White Fang might, you know, try and shut me up again, but he also offered me a job here in the library. It seems there are a lot of books here that need to be catalogued, so that ought to keep me busy until this whole thing blows over.”

Blake stared at him. She was speechless, torn between her joy at seeing him safe and sound and secure in this place, the heart of their fortress, and her anger at the fact that she had found this out by sheer chance of having to walk in here when he had been near the door. If she had stayed away – if she had decided to read in the dorm room, for instance – she would not have found out. She might never have found out.

“When were you going to tell me?” she demanded.

“You were away on a mission when I came here,” Tukson explained. “I didn’t want to distract you when your life, and the lives of those around you, were on the line.”

“I got back from my mission the day before yesterday,” Blake pointed out.

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Tukson admitted. “I figured I’d see you around. And I did.”

Blake sighed. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you did,” she admitted. She bowed her head but then looked back up at him with a slight smile gracing her features. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she added.

Tukson took a couple of steps towards her and reached out to put his strong hands upon her shoulders. “And I’m glad you made it back from your mission in one piece. Are you allowed to talk about it? Do you want to talk about it?”

Blake hesitated. “I think it should be okay.”

“But do you want to talk about it?” Tukson repeated.

“Yes,” Blake said. “I’ve spent… too long hiding how I feel. Hiding parts of my life. I don’t want to hide any more.”

“Then do you want to sit down?” Tukson suggested. “There’s no food or drink allowed in the library, but-”

“I’ll be fine with just a seat,” Blake said. “Are you going to be okay, or will you get in trouble for slacking off?”

“I hope not; who’s around to tell?” Tukson asked as he took her by the shoulder and steered to one of the tables in the open heart of the library.

Blake pulled out one chair, and Tukson another as they both sat down. Blake put Prison Journals down on the table, still facing downwards.

Tukson nodded at the black book. “What’s that?”

“It’s nothing,” Blake replied.

“If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be trying to hide the title,” Tukson pointed out.

“I suppose not,” Blake admitted. “It’s Rudi Antonio’s Prison Journals.”

Tukson frowned. “Never heard of them.”

“So much for 'every book under the sun.'”

“It was just a stupid marketing slogan,” Tukson muttered. “So, what’s this book?”

“It’s a philosophy, amongst other things,” Blake explained. “About how the faunus can achieve equality non-violently by burrowing into systems and institutions. Apparently, anyway. That’s what I’ve been told; I haven’t actually read it yet.” She decided not to mention the fact that it had an introduction by Sienna Khan.

Tukson nodded slowly. “And that’s where your thinking is at now?”

“I don’t know,” Blake admitted. “Rainbow Dash thinks it’s the way… I’m not entirely sure.”

“'Rainbow Dash'?”

“An Atlas student, and a faunus,” Blake explained. “She… I didn’t trust her, at first. Or rather, I suppose I should say that I didn’t get her. I didn’t understand how a faunus could wear an Atlas uniform and not hate themselves for what they were a part of.”

“And now?”

“Now… now, I kind of admire her,” Blake admitted. “She’s brave and loyal-”

“So are you.”

“And she never hides who she is,” Blake continued. “And she’s comfortable with who she is. With all of who she is.”

“You’ve had a tough life, Blake,” Tukson told her. “The fact that you have some regrets doesn’t make you less, and it doesn’t mean that you have to be ashamed of yourself before some Atlas girl who hasn’t had to make the hard choices that you’ve been faced with.”

“I don’t,” Blake responded. “Well, what I mean is… I like her. And a part of me would like to believe that she’s right about this. It’s not as though anything else we’ve tried has worked out.”

“Hey, show some respect,” Tukson said. “Generations who came before you worked their asses off to get to where we are today. Just because things aren’t perfect doesn’t mean that we accomplished nothing. Do you think that I would have been allowed to own my own business right after the war finished?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I suppose I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Take it from my grandpa: the answer was no,” Tukson informed her. “It’s fine to be mad at the injustice that you still see in the world, but don’t let it drive you to despair. Things can change for the better.”

“Do you remember how they changed?” Blake asked. “You say that you accomplished things, but how did you accomplish them? And if my parents’ methods were getting results, then why… why did people older and wiser than me lose faith in them?”

“You ask me these questions like I was in the inner circle.”

“Are you trying to convince me that you weren’t?”

“I wasn’t; I just knew people who were,” Tukson clarified. “Anyway, you don’t need me to tell you what you already knew: whatever might have been happening wasn’t happening fast enough, and it wasn’t happening in a way that your father could point to. What the White Fang was accomplishing, assuming that we were responsible, was changing hearts and minds; attitudes towards the faunus amongst the humans were softening every generation; at least, that’s how it looked to me. Look at your friends; how many racist jackasses are there amongst them?”

Blake raised one eyebrow. “You think I’d be friends with a racist?”

“Okay, not your actual friends, your classmates.”

“Ah, you mean the patronising way that adults refer to everyone a young person’s age as their friend without bothering to find out if they really get along?”

“If you like, yes,” Tukson conceded. “In your class, how many?”

Blake thought about it for a moment. “Only one that I know of for sure.”

“And how is that regarded?”

“In a pretty negative light.”

“Precisely,” Tukson said. “Attitudes like theirs were once common, but now, they’re rare, and not only rare but seen as vulgar and obnoxious; meanwhile, faunus who would have only been allowed into Atlas as janitors can become students now. And so it goes, things change and for the better. But that’s not the kind of thing you can say when you’re the embattled leader of a campaigning organisation. Changing attitudes are hard to prove, especially when it’s the racists that stand out more than the people who aren’t racist but don’t do anything about it. People wanted laws on the books, they wanted signs taken down from shop windows, they wanted police reform. Your parents couldn’t show them any of that; he couldn’t even show that he was being listened to by the Councils in the four kingdoms. Sienna promised real results, to shake the kingdoms until they’d have no choice but to listen.”

“Is that what’s happening in Vale?” Blake asked. “Are things being shaken up?”

“You already know the answer to that, Blake.”

“But I don’t know if this is happening by Sienna’s order or if this is Adam… letting his anger run away with him.” Blake sighed. “It may be stupid, but I’ve already accepted that Adam is… I’ve accepted what Adam is. But I’d like to believe that I wasn’t completely foolish for putting my trust in Sienna.”

“Lots of us put our trust in Sienna at first,” Tukson said. “There’s no shame in it.”

Blake looked into his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Tukson was silent for a moment, and even when he spoke, he did not respond. Instead, he said, “Did you bring that book here because you meant to start reading it?”

Blake nodded. “I wanted to see what it was like.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Tukson said, rising from his seat. “The old way wasn’t worthless, but it also led to Sienna Khan and Adam and what the White Fang is today and… well, it led to where we are now. So if you can find another way, if you think that it’s in that book or anywhere else you might see it… don’t be afraid to take it.”

Three Stories (Rewritten)

Three Stories

And so it came to pass that the hand of God alighted upon the woman Mary, and the spirit moved within her, and his blessings fell upon her, and she was consumed with the divine grace.

Sunset adjusted the cushion behind her back. Since putting Sun to bed, she had returned to the common room to do what she had intended to do before she found Sun: take the books Twilight had provided and read up on what was known of magic in this world. She wasn't entirely sure what was true and what was religious embellishment, but already, she could start to see what Twilight was talking about: this was a Valish story, one of many lives of the saints from the Valish Orthodox Church, and not only did it begin in the same way as practically every other saint's life that she'd read so far, but there were clear similarities to their equivalents from Anima and Solitas. Sunset had even started keeping track, scribbling down the similarities on a notebook that sat beside her on the sofa.

All women. Age not stated but cultural context (unmarried, often under some kind of parental authority) suggests young when they came into power.

They all come into power. None of them are born with it. Possibly this is the religious element but perhaps truth to it.

Weird dichotomy: either know the previous prophet – or whatever – very well, so well as to be present at her deathbed, or they are complete strangers to one another. I have yet to see any middle ground.

In each tradition, there is never more than one at a time.

That was interesting. If her observations were correct – and if the accounts could be trusted upon this point – then it suggested that magic in Remnant was not something one was born to as a unicorn was, but rather something bestowed upon one like... like ascension, to be frank. It wasn't an exact parallel – you couldn't replace God or the gods with Princess Celestia and the holy spirit with a pair of wings or a horn and a crown and have the whole story still make perfect sense – but it was a better fit than Sunset had expected at first. It made sense, though, the more she thought about it; Equestrian magic was not, the occasional prodigy like Sunset herself aside, a catch-all or a force capable of shaking the foundations of cosmos. It had more in common with a semblance in that it reflected your personality and could range from great to staggeringly limited in its utility. It made sense to her then, when she stopped to think about it, that magic in Remnant would be something else, something on top of that, something reserved only for the chosen few.

The biggest difference – or at least the one that struck Sunset, coming from the Equestrian tradition as she did, as the most bizarre – was that none of these girls seemed to demonstrate their aptitude or worthiness for power until after it had been bestowed upon them.

But who was doing the bestowing? If it was not gods (Sunset wasn't prepared to say for sure, one way or the other) then who? If anyone?

Sunset returned to the story.

And Mary found that she had dominion over the fire and the water and that the gardens would bloom at her desire, and she was sorely afraid, for she did not understand the blessing of God. And the people were sorely afeared, for they comprehended not, and they shunned Mary for the changes that had been wrought upon her.

But then the old man came to the village of Providence and said unto the people there 'Where is the girl, Mary, daughter of a carpenter? I have come from afar seeking after her.' And the people of the village urged him to turn back, for the carpenter’s daughter had been transformed, and they did not comprehend what she had become. Nevertheless, the old man asked again where she might be found, and with reluctance, they pointed him the way.

And then the old man went to Mary and said unto her, 'Be not afraid. Rejoice! For you have been chosen.'

Of course there was an old man. There was always an old man. Often, he played this kind of role, telling the chosen one what they'd gotten themselves into and giving them their mission from God, or the gods. Interestingly, he was never named. He was just an old man, but everybody seemed to trust him anyway. Was it the same man? No, that was impossible due to the broad span of time across which these stories took place; a better question to ask was it whether there was only one ‘old man’ at a time. After all, if all of these religious traditions were just syncretic additions to explain or cover up the existence of magic, then it wasn't too much of a leap to say that there only needed to be one old man at a time flitting across the world explaining the rules.

Although that begged the question of how he was getting around. One herald per chosen one made just as much sense, although that didn't explain why said herald didn't stick around for longer.

Who is the old man, and who told him what was going on? Sunset scribbled, before reading on.

And the old man took Mary away from Providence, and in the wilderness, he taught her to understand the blessing that had been granted to her: to command the fire and water, wind and lightning; to make the desert bloom and bring forth life where before there was only aridness; to comprehend what had been and what could be; to understand that she was now more than she had been, that she had been chosen and a great purpose now lay upon her.

As a rundown of what magic could do in this world, it was pretty comprehensive, and pretty consistent not only with Sunset's reading up to this point but also with Twilight's childhood recollection; flying wasn't mentioned, but that could easily fall under command of the wind. Sunset had already written down a list of her best guesses: based on these somewhat archaically worded statements, magic in Remnant possessed the following attributes or capabilities:

Elemental control (plus lightning)

Fertility?

Divination?

It wasn't a hard and fast list, and the only ones she was sure of were the ones that Twilight had confirmed with her childhood eyes. The rest were plausible but unconfirmed interpretations; although the narratives were consistent, they were consistent in unfortunately couching everything in turns of phrase that were open to dispute in what they actually meant. Sunset read on.

And the old man saw how she had grown as a flower blossoming amidst the weeds, and he was well pleased, saying unto her 'My child, I send thee forth to spread the good news to all nations; be resolute in the face of wickedness, be compassionate in the face of weakness; be wise, be brave, and be kind in equal measure. Go forth, for you are ready.'

Sunset frowned. This was the bit she didn't understand. Assuming that there was some force that was choosing to bestow magic upon these young women, then why? What was it in aid of? What was the point of it all?

Why does Equestria make princesses? To provide leadership and inspiration.

Yes, in the service of harmony and of Princess Celestia. In what and to what are these saints and prophets in aid?

God? Gods? If there are as many gods as there are faiths, then why are all their prophet-figures so similar? If there is no divinity but only magic, then from whence comes it and, again, to what end?

Why does the old man send her forth? What does he want or expect her to achieve?

Sunset had read a dozen similar accounts, and the accounts of what the girls did once the old man had decreed that they were ready: accounts of miracles, battles against the grimm – and in one memorable instance, with a trio of monsters who seemed themselves to have more than a touch of the magical about them – of how they had converted cities and peoples, or driven wickedness out of them; still, she felt that she was missing something. Perhaps Twilight would have a theory when they spoke again, for the existence of this system that seemed at once discernible and yet also to possess a quality that was tantalisingly outside of Sunset's reach.

I am groping in the dark... but I can feel something beneath my fingertips.

If this is magic, if magic exists in Remnant, then it is not the magic that I know; it is a kind of ascension, once granted for a purpose that is not clear and, if Twilight is to believed, still being granted albeit now hidden from the world for reasons which, again, are not yet clear to me.

By whom, and to what end? Answer those questions, and all will become clear.

And I will know how to obtain this power for myself.

Even though we only got back from our last training mission a week ago, Professor Ozpin has already assigned us another one.

“Raven wasn’t kidding,” Yang muttered. “Two training missions in the second semester, and before they’d even gotten to Armistice Day? Professor Ozpin did push Team Stark hard.” She glanced at Ruby. “You’re not going anywhere again, are you?”

“I haven’t heard anything about another mission,” Ruby said. “Sunset hasn’t talked about it; I don’t think she’d keep something like that to herself, either.”

“Good,” Yang said.

“It wouldn’t be such a big deal,” Ruby said. “What’s wrong with getting out of Beacon and helping people? And besides, you went on a mission too.”

“There’s nothing wrong with helping people, but my mission didn’t involve me stowing away aboard an Atlesian military train so I could try and do what the police and the Atlesian military couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of you for helping to catch Torchwick,” – Yang wrapped one arm around Ruby’s shoulders and squeezed her little sister tight and close – “but it doesn’t change the fact that it shouldn’t have been your job.”

“Well… Professor Ozpin didn’t exactly know that we were going to try and catch Torchwick on our way back, so…” Ruby trailed off, waiting for an expression of sisterly disapproval for her recklessness.

“Professor Ozpin knows more than you think he does,” Yang said. “I think he knew exactly what you guys had in mind.”

“You’re starting to sound a little like Sunset,” Ruby said. “She thinks the Professor might be up to something as well.”

“Then Sunset Shimmer might be smarter than she looks after all,” Yang said. “Come on; let’s see what this second mission for Mom and her team was."

But everyone was up for it, and Professor Ozpin said that it was a mission that he could only trust the four of us with; I’m still not sure why that is – there must have been pro-huntsmen or even older students he could count on – but the way he said it made it very hard to refuse.

And besides, it kind of beats Professor Port’s class.

“It’s kind of depressing, don’t you think?” Yang said. “You’d like to think Professor Port had been a good teacher when he started, even if he isn’t any more.” The events they were reading about took place in Professor Port’s first semester, having been promoted following the retirement of his aged predecessor.

“Sunset says we’re just bad students.”

“Sunset says she can understand what Professor Port is trying to do,” Yang corrected her. “I don’t think even she says he’s doing it well.”

We went up to the top of the tower to see Professor Ozpin in his office. Professor Goodwitch was there too, although she didn’t look too happy to see us. Professor Ozpin introduced us to a woman named Auburn; he called her an old student of his and a friend. Our mission is to escort Auburn to the village of Seclusion, where a girl named Merida lives; we’re then to escort both Auburn and Merida back to Vale. Professor Ozpin won’t say why this girl needs to come to Vale, and Auburn pretty much told me not to ask. Raven is suspicious about it, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation. We set off at dawn tomorrow. We’ll be moving through wild territory, so there’s a chance of running into grimm, but if we don’t go looking for trouble, then too much trouble shouldn’t find its way to us.

The two sisters flipped to the next page, crossing the night and arriving at the next day in the blink of an eye.

I’m not sure what to make of Miss Auburn. She laughs a lot, and seems pleasant enough, but there’s something about the way that she laughs that seems forced, strained somehow. It’s like she’s pretending to be a lot more genial than she actually is. She drinks a lot too; every time I look at her, she has a skin of wine in her hand; I think we’re all amazed she can still function, although only Qrow had the nerve to actually call her out on it.

“Did I just read that?” Yang asked. “You read that, right? Uncle Qrow took someone else to task for drinking too much.”

“I guess some people really do change,” Ruby murmured, trying to remember the last time she had seen Uncle Qrow without a flask in his hand.

“Yeah, he went from calling this lady out to following her example,” Yang summed up.

Anyway, as weird as it seems, she can still function, and pretty well actually. We were attacked by grimm this evening, just before twilight. More grimm than I’d expect to see so close to Vale, to be honest: beowolves and ursai. It got bad for a moment. Tai and Raven both had their auras broken, and I had to save Raven before a beowolf took her arm off.

I was going to use my silver eyes to destroy the grimm, but before I could, Auburn did something, I don’t know what she did, but it didn’t look like any semblance that I’ve ever seen. She was using fire and lightning and wind; at one point, it looked as though she was freezing leaves to make knives.

She took out the grimm, not me, and then she healed Raven and Tai’s injuries; they were only minor cuts and bruises, but still, she just touched them, and they were gone. And while she was fighting, and while she was doing whatever it was that she did for Tai and Raven, it was as though I was looking at a completely different person: the real Auburn, not the one who pretends to laugh and hides who she really is. Someone serious, but maybe a little sad, too.

“The hell?” Yang said. “Does this make any more sense to you?”

“Mom… could be wrong,” Ruby said, trying to steer the conversation away from the idea of magic; she didn’t like lying to her sister, and more to the point, she wasn’t very good at it, and she was worried that if they talked about this too long, then she wouldn’t be able to keep the words ‘Sunset has magical powers’ from tumbling out of her mouth. “It could be a semblance that Mom had never seen before.”

Ruby doubted that, however. She might have believed it before she’d started reading this diary and had Sunset confirm for her that magic was a real thing that really existed, but now… and Mom had magic too, so she probably knew it when she saw it, even if she didn’t know that she knew it, if that made any sense. Had this Auburn been somebody like Sunset? Mom hadn’t mentioned that she was a faunus, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t been one; maybe she came from the same place Sunset did and they all had magic there.

Although what Mom had written about didn’t sound like the kind of magic that Sunset did; Auburn wasn’t throwing energy around or making shields by the sound of it. It sounded almost more like dust, only without the dust.

Another kind of magic, maybe? Ruby decided to ask Sunset about it; if anyone knew, then she would.

“I guess it could be that,” Yang said. “Or it could be something else. Something like her silver eyes, maybe?”

“…Maybe?” Ruby said. “Maybe… maybe we should just keep going. Maybe she’ll tell us… eventually.”

I would have asked her just how she did that, but I had bigger problems tonight: Raven completely lost it with Qrow, yelling at him that this was all his fault, that he’d nearly gotten them killed. She said something about their family. I didn’t understand it. I just wanted her to stop. I did stop her, but Qrow took what she’d already said to heart. He walked off. I went and talked to him, and I told him that of course it wasn’t his fault, these things happen, that he fought well and that he’s a valuable part of this team. I wish I could be sure that he believed me.

I’m worried about him. He seemed so upset about what had happened. He seemed to believe that it really was his fault, like he was a danger to the whole team, and he wouldn’t even really explain why he felt that way.

I wish I knew why Raven had said what she did.

I wish I knew what to say to Qrow to make it better.

The obscurity into which Rudi Antonio has fallen is as undeserved as his ideas are impractical.

Blake sat in the library, reading the Prison Journals that Twilight had gotten her. Tukson was gone, having bustled off somewhere else in the library to… well, to do his job, not to put too fine a point on it; she supposed that since Professor Ozpin had been good enough to offer him shelter from the White Fang, the least he could do was earn his keep while he was at it.

Besides, having a job made it a lot easier to explain Tukson’s presence on campus; Beacon hadn’t had a librarian before, but that was no reason why it couldn’t have one – it had a library, after all; employing someone to maintain it made perfect sense – while the sudden appearance of a strange adult just idling around the school might have prompted questions.

Plus, Tukson would have been bored; at least this way, he got to spend time around books, which he loved, so being at Beacon probably wasn’t a hardship for him.

To be honest, he might even be happier here than he would have been in Vacuo.

Meanwhile, she was sat in the library, reading Sienna Khan’s introduction to the book. She had debated – long and hard – in her head as to whether she ought to bother with the introduction or not. Blake didn’t really need to read Sienna Khan’s words from long ago in order to understand the way the High Leader thought; she had heard her speak, received Sienna’s plans and policies from her own lips, sat at her feet and learned from her. Blake thought – and not without at least some justification – that she could probably guess what Sienna Khan had to say about the idea of peacefully working one’s way up the ranks of institutions dominated by humanity in order to seize control of them from within.

But people could change, or at least Blake devoutly hoped they could, and this introduction had been written a long time ago. It was possible that Sienna’s views had evolved over time, for all that they had evolved for the worse. She had, after all, worked alongside her parents for quite some time before the split in the movement. It was possible that the Sienna contained within these pages was not the Sienna whom Blake knew.

And she had been curious to find out.

It wasn’t looking all that hopeful.

Considering that these are his personal journals, Antonio is very guarded about his personal history, preferring to propound his ideals and philosophies. That is all very well for a philosophical and historical text, but at the same time, a cursory examination of his fate shows the naivety of his chosen methods.

It is important to bear in mind that this advocate of working within institutions, to dismantle their racism from within, was arrested as he was on the cusp of election to the Mistral Council because the other councillors were unwilling to countenance the election of a faunus to their midst. They were unwilling to even brook the possibility that their racist supremacy might be challenged by a member of the despised underclass.

And yet, Antonio, who spent the rest of his life incarcerated to prevent him from working to achieve change, would spend that time writing of the need to work within existing structures of power as he had singularly failed to do. How are we to explain this startling naivete?

Blake found herself frowning. It was impossible not to see and understand where Sienna was coming from. This was someone who had been locked up by the powers that be, and still, he advocated reform from within those same powers that had imprisoned him? Faunus had been radicalised by a lot less than life imprisonment.

And yet, at the same time, thinking about that fact – that much less severe offences had produced much more severe reactions from so many faunus – made Blake think that there must be more to it than simple naivete. After all, being thrown into prison to rot would make anyone a lot less naïve about the world works… wouldn’t it? But there was a difference between being naïve and being idealistic; Ruby was the latter without being the former; she knew that the world could be a harsh place – how could she not? – but she chose to see the good in it and in those who lived in it regardless. She chose to see it as something worth preserving and protecting. Perhaps Rudi Antonio had been the same: not blind to the flaws of the system that had imprisoned him, but unwilling at the same time to write it off as so many faunus did.

She would have to read on and see, but first she would have to finish with the introduction.

However, this should not be taken as saying that the ideas that Antonio espouses in his journals are without merit. Indeed, I would recommend this book to anyone wishing to better understand the plight of the faunus, for Antonio’s analysis of the structures that maintain the inequalities under which we labour is without peer.

Funny, Blake thought. You never recommended this book to me.

It is only when Antonio comes to the discussion of solutions that his thoughts become absurd.

It is true to diagnose, as he does, that it is cultural institutions more than coercive power that maintain the system of the world that so disadvantages us. We are not held in chains by the guns of Atlas alone but by the fact that all the world tells us we should be in chains and it is unnatural that we should be free.

However, Antonio places his faith to effect change in those same institutions and in changing them to change society. Ironically, in his reasons for doing so, he succumbs to the same cultural hegemony that he so presciently identifies: having been conditioned to take the status quo as normal and even desirable and to see the arc of history as a progression out of barbarism and into the light of civilisation, he cannot see the way forward save by becoming part of that progression.

In reality, if we are to challenge the institutions that constrain us, it will be by building our institutions and establishing our own culture, imbued with a deep belief in the equality of faunus-kind until it is intolerable for any faunus to accept less than what is given to a human.

But you didn’t! Blake thought, with a vehemence that surprised her. It was just… the irony of it was so thick that she could almost choke upon it. Here was Sienna Khan, mistress of the White Fang, writing about how the true obstacle to the equality of the faunus was not coercive power, and yet she had refashioned the White Fang into an instrument of nothing more than coercive power! Blake had heard Gilda tell her about ‘the old days’ of the White Fang in Atlas, when the Belladonnas, her parents, had led the movement. The official history was one of peaceful protests that had failed to garner much support – or, indeed, any great results; that was what Blake remembered of her childhood: rallies, marches, waving placards while her parents spoke. Gilda had remembered something different: the breakfast club that had fed her and her friend – Blake wondered if that consistently unnamed friend had been Rainbow Dash and how she felt about having once been fed by the White Fang – before school when her parents couldn’t; the neighbourhood watch who had kept crime down; the hall where all the moms met to talk shop and help each other out if they were struggling. All gone, under Sienna’s leadership, replaced by a single-mindedly martial focus. Blake’s parents might not have paid much attention to the social or self-help aspects of the White Fang, but Sienna Khan had trimmed down the movement until it was essentially the Atlas military reflected in a fractured mirror.

And now they’re stealing Atlesian weapons so they can fight even more like Atlas.

If there was any building of alternative institutions going on, it was happening on Menagerie, under her parents.

Blake blinked, realising that might have been the most positive she had been about her parents’ political accomplishments in… in years.

Huh.

Of all the possibilities when she sat down to read, Blake definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

There are many who came to be known as the Red Queens, bloody-handed women who carved a place for themselves in the unhappy history of Remnant, but there was only one who ever called herself the Red Queen: the first and vilest of them all, her real name lost to history for all that it deserves to stand alongside the worst examples of mankind as an exemplar of cruelty and malice.

What is known is that she was once a common brigand, the leader of a small band of miscreants hiding in the vast, wide lands of Mistral, preying upon helpless travellers and fleeing in terror from the knights whom the Empress of Mistral, Pyrrha, the Second of Her Name, despatched to keep the peace across the span of her dominions.

Sunset couldn’t help but smile; she couldn’t imagine what Empress Pyrrha, the Second of Her Name, had looked like, so her mind supplied an image of her Pyrrha sitting upon a gilded throne, looking awkward and uncomfortable as she dealt with the petitions of the court.

She’d hate it, though I daresay it would please her mother.

I wonder how many Pyrrhas there are in her family tree.

She had moved on from the lives of the saints and prophets and was now skimming through an account of the so-called Age of the Red Queens who had brought the Age of Miracles to a close with their barbarism. Twilight said that this was the point at which magic went underground as it were, and Sunset was about to find out why.

One day, this bandit queen met the Dark Mother

Sunset blinked and read it again. 'The Dark Mother'? That wasn’t a name that she had come across before, and yet, it was used so casually that the author evidently presumed a familiarity with it.

Sunset scribbled the name down in her notebook as something to ask Twilight about before she read on.

One day, this bandit queen met the Dark Mother, and the witch offered her the power to do more than to raid defenceless villages and farmsteads: she offered her the power to take all of Mistral for her own.

‘What would you have of me, O creature of the night, in exchange for this great gift you offer?’

‘Nothing but a certain trinket in the possession of the Empress, which was rudely stolen from me in days long ago,’ the witch replied.

And so, the bandit laughed, and with a light heart, she agreed to the Dark Mother’s bargain, thinking little of it.

'Trinket'? An enchanted object of some kind? Sunset hadn’t come across them yet either, but then, she had only just started reading.

And then the bandit hearkened to the witch and listened to her counsel with ears as keen as a fox.

And so, taking only a handful of her most skilled and trusted companions, the bandit queen lay in wait upon the road where the Prophetess Helen would be travelling, and when that good and virtuous lady came riding by, the bandits waylaid her. Though great power had been bestowed upon the prophetess, and she was bold and kind and wise beyond her youthful years, those vile vagabonds took her by surprise and cut her down, lovely as she was and virtuous. The bandit queen cut off her head, and as she smote the fair prophetess down, the gods bestowed all the power that once had belonged to her upon the villain who had laid her low.

Huh? Sunset stared at the page with such a blank expression on her face that if she hadn’t been all alone in the dorm room, someone might have thought that there was something wrong with her. They couldn’t… that couldn’t mean what it said, could it? She was being stupid; there was another meaning to it. There… there had to be. Otherwise it meant… the text itself, the narrative voice, just called this unnamed woman a villain. She was a bandit. She cut off some poor woman’s head, and for these kindnesses, she was rewarded with power? The power that, in Sunset’s previous reading, had been bestowed upon the virtuous even if their virtues had not revealed themselves until after they came into the possession of great power?

You know, there are plenty of problems with the way that ascension works – starting with the fact that the gift was never bestowed on me – but at least you can’t become an alicorn by murdering another alicorn! Sweet Celestia!

The image of someone cutting off Twilight’s head in an attempt to ascend filled Sunset’s mind and sent a shiver down her spine besides.

Killer of previous prophet gained her powers; who decides, and what criteria are they using? Sunset scribbled in her notebook. Her brow remained set with a deep furrow as she continued to read.

And when the old man came to her, as he had come to all the prophets who had come before her, to instruct her and to guide her upon her path, the bandit queen scorned him, saying unto him, ‘Fall to thy prayers, old man, I have no need of thee or of thy council. The power is mine, as mine own will be mine, and I will not be the catspaw of thee nor any other living thing that breathes upon this earth. Rather, being now possessed of might unchallenged and unchallengeable, I shall from this day forth order all things as I will, yea, even across the whole of Mistral. For is it not fitting and proper that the powerful should rule, and those that have no power should slink low and obey as the sheep obey the shepherd? This world has beaten me with whips and chains, but I shall flay them in their turn with scorpions.’

Sunset found herself unable to suppress a wince. Stripped of its old-fashioned verbiage, it was the kind of thing that she could imagine herself saying, the kind of thing that she had thought more than once.

There but for the grace of Team SAPR go I. I mean, I’d hope that I wouldn’t cut off anybody’s head in order to get to the top, but…

She had been so lost when she came to Beacon; Atlas had done so much to grind down upon her, to step on her, to twist her with bitterness… if it hadn’t been for her team, who knew what a few more years of crap might have done to her? It was an uncomfortable thought, that she might be little better than someone who was being lambasted as one of the worst monsters ever to draw breath, to feel that their words would come – or would have come, at least – very easily out of her mouth.

I am not her. I didn’t become her, and I won’t. My friends will keep me on the right road and will not let me fall.

My deeds will be of a nobler sort; provided they define me, I should be okay.

And so she sent the old man away, and he departed with much sorrow in his heart. It was then that the brigand cast aside her old name and began to call herself a queen, for in her pride, she believed that the power that had been granted to her had granted, too, the right to rule over all Mistral and the lands beyond. Many credulous peasants flocked to her banner, awed by her power, eager to do her service.

Either that, or they were terrified of what she’d do to them if she didn’t.

Towns and villages who resisted her were put to the sword utterly, save only for a single survivor from each settlement to which the she and her host laid waste, whom they sent to Mistral to bring word of these calamities to the Empress. ‘Lady, where are your warriors?’ the people cried. ‘Why do you not protect your people?’ And the Empress Pyrrha wept to hear of the devastations that were being visited upon her subjects.

And the so-called queen began to be called the Red Queen, for she not only drenched the land in blood but herself also, and she found the name pleasing to her ears and took it for her own.

The Red Queen led her army, growing each day with villains sharked up from every low place in the land, to the gates of Argolis and laid siege to it, and at the same time, she sent a messenger to Mistral with a challenge to the Empress: to meet her in single combat before the walls of Argolis and decide the war at a single stroke with both their crowns upon the hazard.

Pyrrha the Second was fair and virtuous, with a heart so great that it burned at all the sufferings that the Red Queen was daily inflicting upon the people of Mistral. She was yet young and proud and a most puissant warrior of whom it was said that none could withstand her arms, and she determined at once to accept this challenge and put an end to the Red Queen’s villainy once and for all. Yet the heart of the Emperor her husband was filled with sorrow, for he had heard the reports of the miscreant’s inhuman power, and he feared she could not be withstood by any mortal.

At the gates of Mistral, where Pyrrha’s horse was saddled and waiting, he held their daughter in his arms and begged her not to go forth to this battle, saying to her, ‘My brave wife, this courage of yours dooms you.’

‘If that is my fate, then I cannot avoid it but must meet it with all the valour in my heart,’ said Pyrrha, victor of the people.

‘You have no pity for your child or for your husband whom you shall soon make a widower,’ he replied. ‘This Red Queen shall destroy you, and would that I were better dead, for there will be no more joy for me without you, but only sorrows without ending. Pyrrha, you are wife and sister and mother to me; I have nothing but you and nobody but you; take pity on me now and on your little girl and do not go forth to a battle where there is no victory.’

And Pyrrha of the flaming hair replied, ‘My lord, I, too, am filled with trepidation, but I would be shamed before the great-hearted men of Mistral and their wives in trailing robes were I now to shrink thus from the fighting like a coward. My foe has sent for me, and I cannot refuse. Nor is it in me to hide between the high walls of my city, since from my earliest youth, I have striven to excel in arms and win great glory for my house and for myself. I must go. For me, there is no other path.’ And so, great-hearted Pyrrha reached out to take her daughter, but the child, frightened by the bronze of her helmet and the tall burning crest of crimson horsehair that stood tall upon it, took fright and cried out, clutching at her father’s chest.

Then her great lady mother laughed aloud, and her lord father too, and Pyrrha swept the helmet off her head and took her daughter in her arms and kissed her, saying, ‘Grant that this girl may like me be foremost amongst the Mistralians, as strong, and a greater leader of this city and this land; and grant that they may say of her ‘she is a better prince than her mother ever was’ that her father’s heart may rejoice.’

And with those words, she mounted her horse and rode away and was never seen again by mortal sight. Long they looked for her coming from the high towers of Mistral, but she did not return by mountains or by sea. Instead, it was the Red Queen who arrived at the Mistral gates and laid the Empress Pyrrha’s broken sword before them as a token of her victory.

Pyrrha’s broken sword. It wasn’t her Pyrrha, of course. Pyrrha wasn’t dead, she hadn’t ridden anywhere, no monster possessed of powers near to divine had challenged her to single combat, but… perhaps it was the way that the names being the same had caused Sunset to imagine the Mistrali Empress as her teammate, but what had started as the amusing image of Pyrrha sitting awkwardly upon a throne… it didn’t seem so funny any more. For just as Sunset could fit the sentiments of the Red Queen, if not the language itself, into her own mouth, so too could she hear the sentiments of Pyrrha the Second echoing out of the mouth of her Pyrrha in the right circumstances. She could see her, before the gate, Jaune holding their daughter in his arms as he begged her not to go. And yet, she went anyway, turning away from him and mounting her horse, riding away, never to return. She would go, in those circumstances, just as her ancestor had. She would go because… because that was what a hero did.

And in the going, she would be lost to them.

I won’t let that happen. We won’t let that happen.

Pyrrha isn’t going to die. I won’t let her.

Sunset started to skim through, past the bit where the Red Queen seized control of Mistral to the reappearance of the Dark Mother – whoever she was – demanding her pound of flesh.

But the Red Queen laughed at the bargain they had made, saying to her ‘Get you gone, old crone; the sight of you offends mine eyes. I have no need to honour any bargains, for all that I have is the fruit of mine own strength and what my bold heart has won for me. Go, lest I should strike you down for your impertinence to make demands of me.’ And the Dark Mother departed with her heart full of wrath.

Sunset skimmed a little further, to when the Red Queen died, peacefully in bed at what, all things considered, could only be called an unfairly old age.

And no sooner did the eyes of that most wicked of queens close than did her daughter stride out and say unto the people, ‘The Queen is dead! I am your new queen!’ But when the people cried out to her to show them her power, she could not, and all knew that the gods had forsaken her.

But the sorrows of Remnant were far from over, for in every corner of the world, new red queens would rise and set the world to bleeding.

No philosopher should fear that his work will be superseded by those who come after them. Indeed, I feel that they should welcome it.

Perhaps it will seem to you who read my words in some later time that I protest too much when I say that I look forward to the day when future scholars will write in introduction to my work ‘Antonio makes a trenchant point, but also talks a good deal of rot, as later events have shown’.

Blake smiled. Perhaps Rudi Antonio did protest too much, perhaps he was trying to convince himself of something that he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe, perhaps he was even using the mortality of his work as a proxy to confront his own mortality in prison, but the fact that he could even write such a thing was, in its own way, quite charming. Sienna Khan had, indeed, done exactly as Antonio had wished that someone would, but somehow, Blake thought that she wouldn’t be so charitable to someone daring to critique her own thoughts in such a manner.

Even more do I look forward to the day when my thoughts, set down here in this little book, have been rendered completely obsolete by events, when the faunus no longer have to struggle for equality, no longer have to fight to hold place with men, when a faunus sitting on the Council of Mistral or commanding the armies of Atlas or being headmaster of Beacon is as unremarkable to human and faunus alike as a rainy day – a rainy day anywhere but Vacuo, I hasten to add.

The smile remained upon Blake’s face. Alas, that they were not there yet. Even if all of Rainbow’s dreams and ambitions came true, her succession to General Ironwood’s dual seats of command would still be a great novelty, a talking point, something for bigots to mutter angrily about and those who wished to be thought virtuous to point to and say how wonderful they were, that they had permitted a faunus to hold such high offices of state.

We’ve got a long way to go.

That day may be far off now, but I dream of it nonetheless. In this place, I have little to do but dream, and yet, the fact that I can dream – and write – makes the absence of other diversions bearable.

My cell is eight feet wide and six feet deep; walking up and down it gives me little exercise; I fear I am becoming unfit, even on the meagre diet which is the lot of a prisoner. And yet I can still dream, and in my dreams, I am free to imagine the better world which, I trust, future generations shall create by their labours.

It is my hope – a proud hope, but a hope nonetheless – but the thoughts I pen here may be of assistance in that endeavour.

All of which is a long digression from my point, which is that no philosopher should fear or be insulted if some later writer impugns him somewhat or does not accept the older notions wholeheartedly and without critique. Thought must advance, even as technology does, if society as a whole is to move forward.

All of which – forgive me if I repeat myself; I have not the services of an editor in this place – is to say that I mean no offence to Karl Feuer when I say that I disagree with him and that, in fact, a part of my intent is to explain why, in my humble opinion, he is mistaken.

Feuer was a human, but that should not stop him being read by all who care seriously about the oppression of the faunus – indeed, of all oppressed peoples, for the human who labours in the Mantle mines in these days is no less a slave than the faunus who risks death beside him.

Blake had, in fact, read Feuer, and she would even agree with Antonio’s assessment: if one wished to understand, at least in part, the plight of the faunus, then Feuer’s diagnosis of economic inequality could not be bettered. And yet, at the same time, she had felt as though she was reading the work of someone fundamentally mistaken in ways that she could not explain.

Perhaps Antonio was about to elaborate on that.

And yet there is a deep vein of historicism in Feuer of which we should be deeply sceptical. Feuer sees a revolution of the underclass as inevitable: at some point, the workers will tire of their oppression and rise up to establish a more equal society. That is why the working class are ‘the class to whom the future belongs.’

And yet, this has not happened. The elites who control the kingdoms – at least the kingdoms of Mistral and Mantle-Atlas – have suffered military catastrophe, the collapse of the old monarchies and many of the ancient legal privileges of the noble caste, the loss of much territory to the creatures of grimm, have presided over loss of life on a scale unseen in history, have in their pride and folly brought our world to the brink of ruin, and yet there has been no revolution to tear them from their high places. Indeed, with the literal and metaphorical rise of Atlas, they seem more entrenched now than ever before. Even the Faunus Rights Struggle – to which I hesitate to attribute the word revolution – was an attempt by the oppressed not to overthrow the system but to join it, and to do so moreover at a level not greatly removed from their previous condition as slaves.

That’s a little unfair, don’t you think? Blake thought. I think we should give the faunus who fought in the war the credit of accepting that they knew exactly what they were fighting for.

How are we to account for this? Why is it that, far from being the inevitable, the revolution predicted by Feuer appears now to be an unlikely occurrence?

The answer is not to be found in coercive power. Turn your gaze away from those Atlesian airships! Impressive as they are, harbingers of the future of warfare as they may be, they are not the cause of our condition. Indeed, even when technology advances farther than it has presently, there will never be a fleet or army so vast as can hold a people in subjugation against their will.

No, the answer lies not in coercive power, but in the hegemony that the establishment enjoys over culture and, though culture, thought. Put simply, the ruling elites develop a hegemonic culture so that their values, self-serving though they may be, nevertheless become the commonsense values of all. So successful have they been at this project that even a faunus may identify their interests more closely with the ruling elite than with their own people striving for change.

Blake had to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She knew that you weren’t supposed to laugh in a library – although apparently you were allowed to play loud board games in there – and she also knew that it was probably a little cruel to laugh at a good person trying their best, but even so, she had to laugh. She had to laugh because Rudi Antonio had just described Rainbow Dash to a T in this book that was supposed to persuade Blake that Dash was right.

The unthinking, reflexive patriotism, the thoughtless assumptions about ‘the way things are,’ the inability to see change except in increments within an established framework, the identification of herself more with the Atlesian elite like Twilight and General Ironwood than with poor struggling faunus… it was all too perfect.

And yet, this was supposed to vindicate Rainbow Dash in Blake’s eyes. Perhaps Twilight had simply misunderstood the book.

Or perhaps I need to read further on.

I feel a lot better about Auburn now. It’s like, now that she's shown us some of what she is – although she still won't explain; even when Raven asked her straight to her face, she wouldn't answer – she doesn't feel as though she needs to hide who she is. She doesn't laugh so much, but considering how fake and forced her laughter sounded, I think that's probably a good thing. She was a big help to me with Qrow. I talked to her, and she helped me find the words to tell him what I was trying to make him see: that he's my teammate and he matters to me.

I'm sure he matters to his sister too, even if she was mad at him.

I haven't spoken to Raven about it, but when we get back to Beacon, I'm going to suggest that she should apologise. I'm sure that her aura breaking with all those grimm around was scary, but there's no way that it could be Qrow's fault.

I can't understand why Qrow seems to believe it was. It was just bad luck is all.

Qrow seems a little better now. He still blames himself, but he doesn't seem quite as bitter about it as he was, which is something, even if it isn't perfect. I’ll take it for now. I wish that I could make everything better, but if all I can do is make him feel valued in this team, then I'll do that and hope it helps. It's little enough, but from the way Qrow talks, I'm afraid it might be more than he's gotten from his family.

"We should skip this," Yang said. "It feels... wrong, reading this, don't you think? Like we're prying into Uncle Qrow's secrets."

"Yeah," Ruby agreed, feeling a weight of guilt at what they had already read settling on her stomach. "It's not like Mom, where... you know. Uncle Qrow... it doesn't feel right."

"Let's try the next page," said Yang.

We arrived in the village a little after first light, having encountered no more grimm than the ones that attacked us on the first day out of Vale. The girl Merida lives near the centre of town, and to be honest, I was expecting her to be younger. Professor Ozpin, Auburn, none of them talked about her age, but I assumed she'd be a child. She's actually older than I am, if not much. It seems wrong to call her a girl. The woman Merida.

She still lives with her mother, though, and her mom wasn't too happy to see us.

Well, when I say 'us,' I'd say she wasn't very happy to see Auburn. She barely seemed to notice us at all, but she gave Auburn a real earful about taking her daughter away. Merida herself was quiet; she seemed a little scared of something, though I'm not sure what, and I won't find out because when Auburn went inside the house to talk to the pair of them, she left us outside. There wasn't a lot to do until they came out except listen to Qrow and Tai complain about it until Raven told them both to shut up. Then there was enough for me to do in stopping an argument from breaking out. I actually agreed with Raven about that – the guys were getting a little annoying – but she didn't have to say it like that.

Since we had time, I took her aside and tried to talk to her about her attitude.

Raven didn't laugh in my face when I suggested she ought to tone it down. I guess that's something. She did look at me like I was a bit of an idiot though. We ended up talking a lot about Professor Ozpin; Raven thinks he's keeping things from all of us, but from me especially.

“She reminds me of Sunset sometimes, the way Mom writes about her,” Ruby admitted. “I don’t… I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“Hmm,” Yang murmured wordlessly.

Ruby winced; it probably hadn’t been a good idea to say that out loud. “Let’s, uh, let’s keep going, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

I think she's right. The professor is definitely keeping things from us, and from me specifically. The difference between Raven and I is that I don't think that necessarily has to be a bad thing.

We're just kids. We're still in our first year at Beacon, and already, Professor Ozpin has shown us so much trust, even what you might call favour. He's given us training missions ahead of any other team, and unlike Raven, I see that as a good thing. I don't know about her or Qrow or Tai, but I'm here to help protect the world against its enemies, to save it if I can; if I can do that instead of sitting through Professor Port's class, I'll do it. And that's without mentioning the way that he's helping me with my powers; why would he do that unless he wanted to help me reach my full potential as a huntress? Why should Professor Ozpin tell me anything? Who am I? Who are any of us that we deserve all of his secrets?

Maybe he is using me – maybe he's using all of us – but if he is, then it's in a good cause, a cause that I would gladly be made use of in.

"See?" Ruby demanded, looking up at Yang. "Mom gets it."

Yang frowned, and a huff escaped her lips. "Ruby, I... never mind."

"What?" Ruby asked. "Come on, you can say it."

The frown on Yang's face deepened. "We have to hear this from Mom through her diary because she's not around to tell us herself," she said, the words galloping out of her mouth as though she were in a hurry to get rid of them. She grunted. "I don't know exactly what happened, and I don't know that it had anything to do with the professor or silver eyes or any of this stuff, but... I don't want that to happen to you."

Ruby stared at her elder sister for a moment. "I'm training to be a huntress, like Mom. It could happen."

"That doesn't mean I want to think about it, and it doesn't mean that I want to encourage it!" Yang cried. She shook her head. "It's not wrong of me to want to keep you safe for just a little while longer."

What does 'safe' even mean, really? Ruby wondered. She wasn't surprised at what Yang had said. Even Sunset, for all that she was really smart, didn't seem to quite get all the time what they were doing here. The way Sunset talked about glory and being heroes and their fame, it was almost as if she thought that they were going to live forever, like it hadn't occurred to her that they might die at any moment. As though she hadn't quite realised that death stalked their profession more persistently than any grimm.

Ruby hadn't been able to believe that since the day that her mom hadn't come home.

But she was here anyway, here at Beacon, learning to follow in Mom's footsteps because she knew, the same way that her mom had known, that this was right and just and necessary.

Yeah, she'd be lying if she denied that the coolness of being a huntress didn't excite her, she'd be lying if she'd said that wasn't a part of what attracted her to it, all the stories of great huntsmen in the books and all the awesome things they did. But there were a lot of cool jobs. Being a movie star was cool, being a singer was cool; being the voice actor in a cartoon was pretty cool too, but Ruby had never wanted to be one, or a singer, or even a movie star. She wanted to be a huntress because the world needed help of the kind that Ruby Rose could give it.

"Yang," she said. "I don't know what happened to Mom either; but whatever happened, I'm sure that she didn't regret a single decision that she made-"

"How can you say that?" Yang asked. "You don't think that she'd want to be here now, to watch us graduate-?"

"Not at the cost of turning her back on the right thing," Ruby replied firmly. "That's not who she was." That wasn't the person she remembered, however vaguely, and it wasn't the person she was reading about in this journal.

Yang sighed. "I don't want to see you get hurt," she said. "Is that a bad thing?"

Ruby shook her head. "I don't want to get hurt either," she replied, "but if that's what it takes... do you want to stop or shall we keep going?"

Yang hesitated for a moment. "Let's see what else she has to say."

Anyway, eventually Auburn came out and told us that Merida had agreed to come back to Vale with us. I don't understand why, or rather I don't understand why Merida decided to come; I talked to her and learnt that she used to be a Beacon student, but after graduation, she decided not to become a huntress but to come back here and defend her village instead. She wanted to be able to help the people she cared about without being given orders that would take her away from them. I think that's fair enough, even if it does mean she has to live with her mother because she can't afford a place of her own.

But it means I don't understand why she's leaving her village now. She told me that Auburn and Professor Ozpin were going to help her protect her village in a way that she never would be able to otherwise. She wouldn't say more.

I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that there are other kinds of magic that Professor Ozpin knows about and I don't; Auburn and Merida probably don't know about silver eyes.

If these are the secrets that Professor Ozpin chooses to keep from us, then fine by me; I don't need to know everything. And whatever the professor does, and whatever he tells or doesn't tell, there isn't a doubt in my mind that it's all for the greater good.

We cannot build counter-institutions.

That’s bluntly put, Blake thought. No wonder Sienna doesn’t think you give the idea enough consideration.

One need only cast a cursory glance over the history of the kingdoms that have risen and fallen in Remnant to understand that no ruling class will tolerate the emergence of a state within a state, especially one that is composed of an underclass deprived of rights in the ‘mainstream’ society.

Okay, you’ve got a point there. A point underpinned by your own life, sadly.

Even though the supremacy of humans is established through hegemony, the elite will not hesitate to use coercive power against any challenge to that hegemony.

I can believe that too, unfortunately.

And besides, so great is the hegemony that the elite have achieved, so complete is their control over all existing cultural institutions, that any attempt to establish alternate institutions of any kind would be a hard task indeed. In what soil would these institutions root themselves, how would they sustain themselves, what audience would they find? One need only look at the – universally low – circulations enjoyed by counter-cultural journals, magazines, and newspapers, especially when compared to the popular media, to understand the scale of the proposition confronting such a path. When the ideas that underpin human supremacy are so entrenched in the popular imagination that even to suggest that the faunus ought to be given a measure of equality is to be treated both as a figure of ridicule and a dangerous menace to polite society, who would partake in new institutions that challenge everything that is commonly believed to be ordinary, respectable, or decent?

A few idealists cannot create a new culture single-handedly. There must be an audience eager to consume it, and I do not see such a thing.

No, our best chance – I would say our only chance – is to work within the strictures of the society that we seek to change.

Okay, now you agree with Rainbow Dash.

It will not be an easy task. In fact, I must confess that the march through the institutions of power and influence – dominated by elites as they, and geared as they are towards our oppression – will be a longer one than that undertaken by any general in any war ever fought in Remnant. But it must be undertaken. For the good of all faunuskind, it must be undertaken. We must enlist in the military and serve in the police forces; we must get jobs in the vast bureaucracy of state that turns the lofty directives of the Council into actions that touch upon the lives of ordinary men. We must send our children to the academies, combat and cultural. We must report the news, we must appear on film, we must write the movies and direct them too. We must ensure that there are faunus present in every part of the life of the kingdom and in the cultural life of those who live in it.

It is not enough to have a single faunus in a single room, though they be the most highly placed faunus in the room. We must be everywhere, until the outspoken amongst our enemies rage ‘not another damn faunus!’ Only then can we begin to change the culture.

And only once we have changed the culture can we change the world.

Blake shut the book and pushed it perhaps an inch away from her.

It was not quite what Twilight had led her to believe it was, but then, that wasn’t too surprising, since apparently Twilight had never read it.

All the same, it had become something other than what Blake had accepted, something that, if it did not condemn Rainbow’s ambitions, at least thought them… naïve, if that was not too unkind a way of putting. She might succeed; she might even succeed General Ironwood, but the words were written right there in black and white: it would not be sufficient to have a single faunus in a single room, though that room was the Headmaster’s office or the Atlesian Council Chamber or the heart of a warship.

It was not so surprising to her that General Ironwood and Twilight didn’t see it that way; it wasn’t even a surprise that Rainbow Dash herself couldn’t see that her rise, much as it might gratify her and her supporters, was not enough by itself. They were all, as Antonio would say, caught up in hegemony, brainwashed almost into accepting the status quo with all its flaws.

Blake meant no arrogance by it when she thought that one advantage of growing up outside the kingdoms was that she was less marinated in the culture of those kingdoms and all the assumptions that went with them.

One faunus was not enough.

Which is why it needs more.

Blake frowned. The thought had stolen into her mind unbidden, but now that it had so crept in, it proved very hard to dislodge. And who was to say that Rainbow didn’t already know what Antonio had proclaimed, and that was why – or part of the reason why – she sought Blake’s help in Atlas? Just because she hadn’t said it out loud didn’t mean that she was unaware.

One faunus was not enough. Two faunus wouldn’t be enough either.

But it could be better.

Blake frowned. She hadn’t made a decision. She wasn’t sure what she wanted.

But she couldn’t deny that… there was a temptation.

In the four corners of Remnant ruled four queens. Four queens and no justice.

Never more than four, Sunset thought. She was nearing the end of the book that Twilight had given to her, and as well as the end of the text – large chunks of which she had admitted to skipping in order to get a general feel of events too far back to have been covered in history classes – she had a feeling she was nearing the end of the era of the so-called Red Queens.

There were no more prophets now, no saints performing miracles or carrying out the commands of the old man to spread the good news of whatever faith was promulgating these accounts. They were all gone now, hunted down and slain, and in their place, there were four queens – only ever four queens – who toppled ancient thrones and tore down the walls of storied kingdoms to exalt themselves above their fellow men in orgies of violent bloodshed.

Only ever four queens. Never more, never less.

Four queens, Sunset scribbled. Seems like a hard limit.

She was coming to believe that there was no omniscient being bestowing these gifts, whatever the legends might say. No God, no gods, no spirits choosing to pass down their blessings upon anyone. Receipt of the gift of magic was not the ascension to which Sunset had sought to equate it in her head; there was no Celestia looking down upon the young, ambitious unicorns and deciding that Twilight Sparkle was worthy to ascend while Sunset Shimmer was not. Had they both been born in Remnant, then Sunset could have ascended via compassing the death of Twilight, and the fact that she would have made herself a murderer would – if these legends be true – have proven no obstacle.

Sunset didn’t want to believe that there was a god out there who thought it was a good idea to bestow power on the people who had just cut down the previously chosen recipients of it; if they existed, then she never wanted to meet them.

Let us assume then, for the benefit of my sanity if nothing else, that the magic is not bestowed. No one is chosen for it, except in a metaphorical sense that the magic must go to someone – there cannot be more or less than four people, all young women who have the power – but no being with a consciousness makes a decision on who should get it.

It just goes to someone.

From that perspective, the wonder isn’t that it went to someone unsuited for it, the wonder is that it took so long.

How does the magic transfer? Sunset wrote. Kill equals get power. Power sometimes went to someone at the previous holder’s deathbed. Other times to strangers.

Does this have rules? Power to the last person you see if eligible?

Sunset decided to keep reading, although there hadn’t been any answers to this question yet, maybe there would be more to come.

The wizard

Sunset read that again. What wizard? Is that the same as the old man from before? Or an old man from before? Why suddenly call him a wizard now?

The wizard was filled with despair, as he saw the gift that the gods had given to mankind turned against them and become a tool for wickedness, and as he despaired, so did the world despair, and the grimm fed off the despair of the people and multiplied.

And the people, harried by grimm and tormented by their four queens, cried out ‘Please, save us!’

And the wizard set forth to answer their prayer.

He gathered around himself five faithful companions, warriors renowned both for their skill at arms but also for their virtue, pure in heart and without a trace of wickedness in their souls: the Crimson Death, swift of foot and great of valour; the Summer Flame, whose heart did not burn less than the fire in her hair with rage at the pitiless cruelty that stalked the land; the Gilded Knight, whose courage sprang from a fearful heart; the Marble Girl, renowned for her honour as much as her peerless skill; and the Shadow, a humble faunus whom the others had freed from slavery.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps it was unbearably egotistical on her part, but she couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about those descriptions.

Well, I already knew that people recur across universes; is it really so surprising to see them recurring across time as well?

I wonder how many Celestias there have been in Remnant across the thousand years Princess Celestia has ruled Equestria?

Together, they made a sacred vow, that they would hold fast to their fellowship with one another come what may and that they would redeem the world from the cruelty of these queens or perish one and all in the attempt.

And so they set forth, these five heroes and the wizard who had assembled them, journeying under cover of night and hiding their faces from the spies of the queens, travelling through the lands of the grimm and enduring all the perils of the road.

Sunset skipped ahead to the interesting bit: that these six heroes had, one by one, hunted down the queens and killed them all… and that, to all appearances, was that. No new queens rose up to take the places of the dead ones. No new prophets, no more saints. The age of miracles was over, and when the Age of the Queens, too, passed, nothing else replaced it except, perhaps, something approaching modern history of the kind that would have been familiar to Doctor Oobleck. Magic was done.

And if Sunset had believed that some divine or divines was controlling who got magic, then perhaps she could have believed that; it would have made sense that any god handing out such gifts would have turned away at the sight of what had been done with them… except that they would have done that long before the wizard and his companions hunted down the last red queens and brought the time of magic to a close. And then there was Twilight’s eyewitness account and the fact that there was a subculture of true believers tracking magic through the ages. All of which indicated that it hadn’t gone away it had just… what? Stopped being so obvious? Why? Why would everyone who was fortunate enough to receive this gift just suddenly be okay with hiding their light under a bushel?

I wouldn’t, in their place.

Why hide? Sunset wrote. Why hide your own magic? Why hide magic more generally? Was someone forcing them to hide? That made a degree more sense than all the inheritors of magic deciding on their own to keep it secret, but then, who would have the power to compel them, and over such a long span of years, how would such a policy be faithfully maintained? You’d have to assume a vast global conspiracy stretching down through the centuries, and that… that was just a bit farfetched; you’d need to be Celestia in longevity as well as wisdom in order to set up something like that.

I’ve been reading too long, Sunset thought. I have some answers, but mostly, what I have are even more questions.

Why do I feel as though the answers are so far away… and yet at the same time right under my nose?

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Even though this chapter is just exposition and worldbuilding it's still one of my favourites. The big change now is the addition of Blake, hence the change in title.

Equivalent Exchange (New)

Equivalent Exchange

“You believe that Twilight’s right? You really think there’s more magic out there than just Ruby’s eyes and all the stuff that you can do?” Jaune asked; Sunset couldn’t help but note the somewhat incredulous tone in his voice.

“I’m still getting used to the idea that ‘magic’ is a thing outside of genre fiction,” Blake said dryly.

“You should be honoured that I trust you with this instead of throwing you out of the room every time we want to talk about it,” Sunset said, though she grinned up at Blake to take some of the sting off her words. “And as for your point, Jaune… why should magic be restricted to the – no offence – singular and esoteric instance of Ruby’s eyes? It makes more sense that there should be at least some other kinds of magic out there too.”

“I guess,” Jaune said. “Although… I suppose I’m still getting a handle on this magic stuff. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

“But if my mom saw it, and if Twilight saw it, and if there’s all this stuff written about it,” Ruby reasoned, “that means it… it can’t be a lie, can it?”

“I never said it was,” Jaune said. “I just…” He laughed nervously. “It feels like I’m the only person here who found out this huge thing about the world that they’d never known before and is actually treating it like this huge thing, and if what Sunset read is true, then it gets even more huge… anyone can have… magic if they… if they…”

“If they’re willing to kill for it, it seems,” Pyrrha whispered.

“A system designed to attract the worst and repel the best,” Blake observed.

“One hopes that there’s more to it than that,” Sunset muttered. “Perhaps Professor Ozpin knows, if anyone does. Since it seems that he knows a lot more than he lets on.”

“For good reason, don’t you think?” Blake asked.

Sunset leaned backwards, resting her hands upon the dorm room floor. “I… have yet to be convinced on that score.”

“After what you read?” Blake demanded. “After what you told us? If the White Fang knew about that kind of power, there isn’t anything that they wouldn’t do to obtain it for themselves. Can you imagine what that would mean for Remnant? Do you honestly think that people have gotten any wiser, any better than they have since those days? Do you really think that the world can be trusted with the kind of power you’re talking about?”

“I think that the world is full of power, and it hasn’t ended yet,” Sunset said. “What’s one more power source in the scheme of things?”

“A power that can enable a bandit chieftain to bring down an empress,” Pyrrha reminded her. “Is that not a thing to be afraid of?”

“A power that can be defeated in its turn,” Sunset replied. She sighed. “Maybe there is a good reason for keeping this a secret, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like having those secrets kept from me, okay? It feels as though every new thing that I learn in this place only opens my eyes to the fog of mysteries that surrounds us all. Am I the only person who feels that way? Am I the only person who is troubled by the fact that everything we discover only serves to increase our store of ignorance by revealing new things that we didn’t know that we didn’t know about?”

“But if it’s for a good cause-” Ruby began.

“How can we know that for sure if we don’t know all the facts about the cause?” Sunset demanded, cutting her off.

“Perhaps there comes a point when we have to trust,” Pyrrha said, “as the rest of the world trusts in Professor Ozpin.”

Professor Ozpin. Trust in Professor Ozpin. Professor Ozpin, the great huntsman, the youngest ever headmaster, the great man of Remnant. Trust him. Trust him to do what? To defend Vale? To serve the best interests of the Four Kingdoms? To keep us safe?

That was the crux of it all: trust Ozpin to do what? Sunset could accept, in abstract, the argument that Blake advanced: in a system that seemed to self-select for ruthlessness and concentrate power in the hands of those least deserving to possess it, then it made academic sense to hide the existence of said power, and that was true irregardless of the existence of other forms of power, like particularly strong semblances and the like. But why should Ozpin be the one in the know; he knew about silver eyes, he knew about whatever this other thing was, he knew a lot that other people didn’t know, and why? Because he was a headmaster at a huntsman academy? So what? It didn’t make him Celestia, with whom Sunset might have disagreed, but she could at least acknowledge that she had the ages of wisdom to back up her claims to make the big choices for other people.

And that was the other thing, the biggest thing, the thing that she wasn’t sure that anyone else in the room would understand because they were all too noble for their own good but which Sunset saw as clear as day: leaving aside why Ozpin should have the right to make those decisions, what kind of decisions was he going to make? Even if you trusted him to do the right thing, that was only going to be the right thing for Remnant, or the human race, or the Kingdom of Vale, or all the human kingdoms, depending on his allegiance and the breadth of his perspective. It wasn’t the right thing for Team SAPR or for the Xiao Long-Rose family or for any of them as individuals any more than Celestia’s decision, right for Equestria, had been right for Sunset Shimmer.

That was the take away from Ruby’s account that no one else seemed to see: that Ozpin had set Team STRQ out into peril half-blindfolded by a lack of understanding of what was really going on around them. Sure, it had all worked out okay that time, but Ruby’s mom… well, she was dead, not to put too fine a point on it. It was all very well to send them out to fight grimm – that was what they were here to do – but what if Ozpin started giving them missions that brought them more and more into contact with the magic of this world, the way he’d apparently started doing for Team STRQ?

Ozpin might be acting for the greater good of Remnant, but if that greater good entailed getting SAPR killed, Sunset… she couldn’t be sure that he’d do it, but she couldn’t be sure that he definitely wouldn’t either, and that… that was unacceptable.

Sunset’s hands clenched as she glanced around the room. Ruby and Pyrrha were just the kind who would readily give their lives in a worthy cause; Jaune would probably do it too, and Blake… Blake was so desperate to atone at any cost. Sunset had to protect them, but how could she do that when she was mired in this swamp of unawareness? When she didn’t know where the blows were going to come from?

I am not a piece on your board, Professor, and neither are they.

Still, it wasn’t as though she could just march into the headmaster’s office and demand answers, was it? No, as satisfying as the idea might be, it wouldn’t actually get her anywhere. All she could do was keep learning as much as she could and hope it was enough when – if; she had to concede that none of this might actually matter – the time came.

There wasn’t much more to say on the matter right now, and in any case, there wasn’t any time to say it because Sunset’s scroll went off. So did Blake’s. They both fished them out and opened up their devices at the same time.

Sunset saw a message from Professor Goodwitch summoning her to the amphitheatre.

“The amphitheatre?” Blake asked.

Sunset looked at her. “You too?”

Blake nodded, jumping lightly off the bed and onto her feet. “I wonder what Professor Goodwitch wants?”

Sunset shrugged as he climbed up off the floor, more slowly than Blake’s acrobatic display. “Improvised sparring class?”

“It’s Friday afternoon,” Blake pointed out. “There are no classes today.”

“That’s why I said it would be an improvised class,” Sunset replied. “See you later, everyone; I’ll let you know if it was anything important.”

“Good luck, both of you,” Pyrrha called as the two of them left the dorm room.

Outside, as the door closed behind the two of them, the huntresses were joined by Yang, Ren, and Nora of Team YRDN coming out of the room across the hall.

“Did you guys just get a message from Professor Goodwitch, too?” Yang asked.

“We did,” Blake confirmed. “Are you three on your way over there as well?”

“We sure are,” Nora confirmed enthusiastically. “At first I thought she was going to yell at us again – even though I don’t think that we’ve done anything to deserve to get yelled at recently, but then, I don’t ever really think that we deserve to get yelled at by Professor Goodwitch – but if you two are coming over as well, then I don’t know what she could want.”

“We’ll find out when we get there,” Ren said.

“Obviously,” Sunset replied. “Where’s Dove?”

Yang shrugged. “Not with us. Maybe hanging out with Lyra and Bon Bon? He does that a lot. If it’s a whole team thing, he’ll meet us there.”

“Why would Professor Goodwitch want to see Sunset and I alongside your team?” Blake asked.

“Why would she want to see the three of us and the two of you?” Yang countered.

“As I said,” Ren repeated patiently, “we’ll find out when we get there.”

They made their way down out of the dorms and across the grounds. The summer sun shone high above them, and the air was warm as they followed the paved paths between the lawns. As it was Friday afternoon, with classes ended for the week and all the students at liberty, there were various parties of students from all schools – some recognisable from their different uniforms, others wearing their field gear – sprawled out on the grass, studying or reading or talking. Laughter echoed towards the skies, unbroken even when an Atlesian airship passed overhead, temporarily blotting the sun and plunging the ground into shadow.

The five students made their way to the amphitheatre, eschewing the usual route into the changing rooms and heading straight through the main doors into the theatre proper where the spars and speeches took place.

They found that they were not the first to arrive. Professor Goodwitch stood upon the stage, and with her stood Professor Ozpin, leaning upon his cane with both hands. Team BLBL – the three remaining members of it, anyway – stood on the right hand side of the lower gallery, side by side, waiting. They had their backs to the doors, but all three of them looked around as Sunset, Blake and the three members of Team YRDN strode in.

The fourth member of Team YRDN had also preceded them there; Dove Bronzewing stood near the centre of the room, almost directly in front of the stage. He half-turned to face the others as they entered.

“Yang, Ren, Nora,” he greeted them affably, each with a slight nod of the head. “Blake, Sunset.”

“Dove,” Blake replied softly, and Sunset could hear – and feel – the concern in her voice. What were they all doing here? What were BLBL doing here? Why had Professor Goodwitch – or Professor Ozpin, who must have instructed her to do it – brought them all together like this?

The other three members of Team YRDN – minus Dove – stood on the left of the room; Sunset and Blake took up spaces in the middle, to the left of Dove.

Sunset’s tail flicked back and forth as she waited to hear what this was all about.

“Thank you all for coming,” Professor Ozpin said. His tone was genial, and there was a slight smile upon his face as he ran his eyes across the assembled students. “I would have called this meeting in my office, but as you can see, there are quite a few of you.” He chuckled for a moment. “Nevertheless, Professor Goodwitch has asked you all to join us so that we might discuss certain irregularities in the team roster that have arisen since the beginning of the semester and how those irregularities might be normalised.

“As you will all no doubt recall, at the beginning of Fall Semester, Miss Xiao Long, Mister Ren, Mister Bronzewing, and Miss Valkyrie formed Team Iron under Miss Xiao Long’s leadership, while Miss Belladonna, Miss Heartstrings, Miss Bonaventure, and Mister Lark formed Team Bluebell, led by Miss Belladonna. This was in accordance with the standard practices around Initiation, in which partnerships were formed and teams assigned according to the relics chosen during the Initiation itself. However, as you will also remember, at the beginning of this semester… certain facts about Miss Belladonna came to light which made it impossible for her to continue as leader of Team Bluebell… at least in the eyes of her teammates.” Professor Ozpin glanced at the other three Bluebells. Lyra shrank from his gaze, her expression shamefaced, while Sky shuffled his feet uncertainly. Only Bon Bon met the Headmaster’s gaze without a trace of nervousness.

Sunset scowled at her. Self-righteous prig.

“The situation as it now stands is both undesirable and irregular,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Miss Belladonna is now living with Team Sapphire, all the while undertaking extracurricular activities on behalf of General Ironwood and the Atlesian forces.” She managed to imbue the name of General Ironwood and his troops with a particular kind of disdain. “Team Bluebell, temporarily under the leadership of Miss Bonaventure, has only three members… and quite frankly, given your grades and performances in my class, I question whether you are capable of functioning in the field in your present state.”

It was all Sunset could do to keep the grin off her face as Professor Goodwitch said that. It was harsh and rightly so. They deserved to hear that and worse. They were lousy huntsmen, lazy – Sunset had overheard Pyrrha telling Jaune about the deal she had worked out with Dove and how Lyra only trained three nights a week to Jaune’s seven – and with the utter brass-necked gall to look down on Blake, though she was worth three times the whole pack of them! Imbeciles, the lot of them; it was high time that they were put in their place.

Yang raised her hand. “Professor… Professors, I get that this is about Blake’s future, and I suppose Sunset’s here because Blake is living with Team Sapphire at the moment, but I don’t see how this affects Team Iron?”

“It affects Team Iron, Miss Xiao Long, because Mister Bronzewing has devised a solution which may resolve many of the issues thrown up by the current state of affairs,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Mister Bronzewing,” Professor Ozpin added, gesturing out at the other students with one hand, “the floor is yours.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Dove said softly. Sunset had always thought of him as a little bit pompous, but he seemed uncertain in front of an audience now as he took a step forward so that everyone could get a better look at him. He didn’t seem to know whether he ought to be addressing his fellow students or the professors, with the results that he first started turning back and forth in an effort to do both, and then ended up turned so that he was facing his teammates, side-on to the professors, and had his back to Team Bluebell. Judging by the way he started looking over his shoulder, that hadn’t been his intention.

“I… I’ve liked being your partner, Yang,” Dove said. “I was proud to fight alongside you at the Green Line last week. I’ve liked being a member of Team Iron; I’ve been proud to say that I was a member of Team Iron and that my teammates were Yang, Ren, and Nora.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure that you’ll all be amazing huntsmen and huntresses and achieve all of the dreams we talked about on our first night together after Initiation.” He looked at Blake. “Blake Belladonna, I… I won’t pretend to know what made you do what you did, and if honourable people like Ruby and wise men like the headmaster believe that you deserve to be trusted then… then I suppose you deserve a second chance here, a real second chance.

“Lyra, Bon Bon, you… you were my first friends here at Beacon; when I stepped off the airship with no idea of where I was going or what I was supposed to do, the two of you helped me find my way. And Sky, you’ve been willing to listen to me and not judge and not spill… you’re all my friends, and the thought of you going into battle with one man down and maybe…” He paused, trailing off. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just my provincial nature talking; I’ve been told I’m a little bit of a hayseed, but…” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I was brought up to always help a girl in trouble and always step in to protect a girl in danger. I don’t really make a big deal of it because I’m not sure Yang or Nora really need it.”

“Not really, no,” Yang agreed, her tone playful and rich in amusement. “I’ll let you know if I ever start getting… vapours or something.”

“It’s 'the vapours,'” Blake murmured, so softly that probably Sunset was the only one in the room who heard her.

“Anyway, the point is,” Dove went on, “that I’ve suggested to Professor Goodwitch and Professor Ozpin that I should join Team Bluebell, and then Blake could take the open spot in Team Iron, since you don’t have to have a problem with her.” He shrugged. “Then Blake could get out of the Sapphire dorm room, and Team Bluebell would have four members. And I don’t think we’d even have to change the team names.” He smiled sheepishly.

Silence greeted the end of this speech, broken by Nora, her voice small and a little childlike. “So… you’re leaving us?”

“I… I don’t know yet,” Dove said.

“But you want to leave us behind,” Nora insisted.

“I want to do what’s right,” Dove replied.

Ren put a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “And that is a very admirable thing to want; that’s what any true huntsman should want.”

“Is that what’s going to happen, Professor?” Sunset asked.

“That depends on you students, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin replied.

“Some of you students,” Professor Goodwitch corrected. “You have neither choice nor veto, Miss Shimmer; you are here as a courtesy, since Blake is currently living in your dorm room.”

“And she’s welcome to stay there, if she wants to,” Sunset declared. “Don’t think that you have to clear out to go to any old place.”

“Hey!” Yang cried. “Team Iron is not 'any old place.'”

“Would you be willing to lose Mister Bronzewing and gain Miss Belladonna, Miss Xiao Long?” Professor Ozpin asked. “By the same token, Miss Bonaventure, Miss Heartstrings, Mister Lark, would you be willing to have Mister Bronzewing as a teammate? And of course, Miss Belladonna, so much depends on you? What is it that you want?”

Blake hesitated, one hand clutched just above her chest, close to her heart. “I… I understand that this would be a big help to Team BLBL-“

“You don’t need to think about what they want,” Sunset said. “They’re the ones who-”

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch cut her off in an icy tone, “perhaps you should let Miss Belladonna finish?”

Sunset cleared her throat. “Sorry, Professor.”

Blake’s ears drooped a little. “I… I don’t have any objection to joining Team Iron, if they’ll have me, but… with my obligations to the Atlesians, then there’s at least some chance that Team Iron will be left with only three members.”

“I can speak to General Ironwood and see if we can’t minimise the risk of that,” Professor Ozpin said, “but you are correct, Miss Belladonna; the chance cannot be discounted completely. Miss Xiao Long, Miss Valkyrie, Mister Ren, you should be aware of this before you make any final decision.”

“There… there’s something else that you should know as well,” Blake said, her voice rising for a moment to regain the attention of everyone in the room. “I… Rainbow Dash has asked me to transfer to Atlas at the end of this year. I… am considering it.”

Sunset wanted – she so, so wanted – to take a picture of Bon Bon’s expression when Blake said that. Lyra looked pretty startled to hear it too, but Bon Bon looked as though she had just bitten into a sandwich only to find that there were flies inside devouring the rancid meat. Oh, how it must gall her, Miss High and Mighty, that the team leader she had spurned and rejected as unworthy of her had been offered a place amongst the clouds of Atlas.

Since she couldn’t really take a picture in front of the headmaster, Sunset settled for trying to fix the image in her memory instead.

“Miss Dash has asked this of you,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Has General Ironwood said anything about it?”

“We’ve talked about it,” Blake said. “I think that he’d support the idea if I decided to go along with it.”

Professor Goodwitch sniffed. “James continues to find ways of surprising me with his behaviour. Just when I thought that he couldn’t-”

“Now, now, Glynda,” Professor Ozpin interrupted quietly. “James merely wants what we all want: for all of our students to flourish to their full potential. If he believes that Miss Belladonna will do better at Atlas than Beacon, well… that is a matter upon which reasonable people might reasonably disagree. You say that you are considering it, Miss Belladonna?”

“Yes,” Blake said, and her voice shook only a little. She glanced at Beacon’s headmaster. “I mean no disrespect-”

“You needn’t worry about hurting my feelings, believe me,” Professor Ozpin said lightly. “I can acknowledge that Atlas is a fine school, and that some fine young men and women have emerged from it, without losing a scintilla of the pride I feel in Beacon and its students. You must do what is best for you, Miss Belladonna; so long as you find your path and walk it for the betterment of all mankind, then all of this great edifice erected for your education has been worthwhile. It has no other purpose.”

Blake bowed her head. “That’s very kind of you to say so, Professor,” she murmured. “But, again, if I do go to Atlas at the end of the year, then Team Iron will be left with only three members.”

“True enough, Miss Belladonna,” Professor Ozpin acknowledged. He leaned upon his cane, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Sadly, that state of affairs is not unheard of amongst second year teams and higher. We do what we can to protect our students, but this world and this life are dangerous, and sometimes, our best is not enough. Team Iron would, in some respects, be more fortunate than others in a similar position.”

“More importantly,” Professor Goodwitch added, “there is always the possibility that a student from Shade or Haven, or perhaps even the great Atlas,” – she laced the name with a touch of acid – “may decide to transfer to Beacon at the end of this year.”

“Also a possibility,” Professor Ozpin concurred.

“And it’s a position that Team Bluebell are in now, and with less…” Dove trailed off. He glanced at his new teammates, or at those who might soon be his new teammates. “I mean, no offence, guys, but I think Yang, Ren, and Nora could handle themselves a lot better without a fourth guy than you.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Lyra conceded in a voice that was half mutter, half groan.

Yang glanced at Dove for a moment, then turned her head towards Ren and Nora. She drew them close, the three other members of Team Iron huddling together, heads bent, speaking in whispers so that Sunset couldn’t hear them.

“You don’t have to take this just because they’re offering it to you,” she said.

A smile played upon Blake’s features. “You want me to stay that badly?”

Blake’s tone was fondly mocking, almost playful, but Sunset answered her in earnest. “I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s a good plan from Dove,” Blake insisted.

“Good for Team Bluebell; I’m not sure I’d say the same about Team Iron,” Sunset replied. “And it’s not-”

“Not good for me?” Blake guessed. “I don’t think it’s bad for me, either.” She smiled. “You... I’ll always be grateful for you giving me a place to stay when no one else would, but I don’t belong in your bed, or even in your room.” She paused. “Besides, I’m only moving across the hall.”

“For now,” Sunset said. “Is this what you want?”

“I… I don’t know what I want yet,” Blake admitted, “but I think that this might be a good start.”

Team Iron – minus Dove – had finished their impromptu discussion. Yang looked at him. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

Dove didn’t reply.

“Hey,” Yang said. “Be honest. Don’t worry about hurting anyone’s feelings; just go for it.”

Dove nodded. “This is what I want, not because-”

“Hey,” Yang said, cutting him off with one raised hand. “You don’t need to explain. You don’t owe me – any of us – a word, and besides, I get it.” She grinned. “So go get ‘em, tiger.” She looked up at the professors on the stage. “We’re willing to take the risk of Blake being away or even leaving. Dove’s right; we can handle it on our own, but…” Now, she turned her gaze and full attention to Blake. “If you want the spot, you can have it.”

Blake smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I want the spot.”

“Of course you do,” Nora cried. “The coolest team in Beacon!”

Ren bowed his head. “I hope that our duties give us the chance to work together.”

“So do I,” Blake agreed.

Yang grinned. “Welcome to Team Iron, Blake.”

“Thank you again,” Blake said. She offered her hand to Sunset. “And thank you, for putting up with me and for always having my back.”

Sunset pulled Blake into a hug, wrapping her arms around the other faunus and holding her tight. “Just so you know,” she whispered into Blake’s ear, “there’ll always be a place across the hall for you when you ruin this chance like you did the other.”

Blake snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t joke; I might actually hold you to that.”

I wouldn’t mind at all if you did, Sunset thought.

Blake sat down heavily upon her bed. Once all her stuff had been moved into her new dorm room, Team SAPR had insisted – with no possibility of refusal – that she had to come out with them to Benni Haven's for a goodbye, as though she was actually moving to Atlas instead of just across the corridor. Her new teammates had been very accepting about it, and honestly, Blake wouldn’t have refused even if she’d had the chance; it was a nice gesture on their part, one of a series of nice gestures from Team SAPR since her secret had come out and even before it. They had always been there for her, whether she deserved it or not, ever since she had run away from Rainbow Dash; the chance to spend another evening in their good company, with good food to boot, was too, well, too good to pass up.

And it had been a good night. A very good night. Ms. Haven had even broken with a custom and taken a picture of the five of them with Fluffy, since Blake was – or had been – an ‘honourary’ member of Team SAPR for just a little while.

Blake didn’t know what the future held for her – either in the sense of her immediate future with Team YRBN or in the sense of her larger future and the choice between Beacon and Atlas that she had yet to make – but she would always be grateful for the kindness of Team SAPR.

Nobody had been that unconditionally kind to her since… since she had turned her back on her parents.

The trouble was that the food at Benni Haven's was very, very filling, and her stomach was now feeling just a little bit delicate.

Yang strode into the dorm room. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Blake murmured, one hand over her stomach.

Yang chuckled as she sat down on the bed next to Blake – unlike in SAPR’s dorm room, the beds weren’t arranged by strict name order; Ren and Nora slept side by side, and Yang and Dove had sat on the other side of the room; now it was Yang and Blake. She kicked off her boots and crossed her legs on the scarlet quilt beneath her. “Did you guys have a good time down there?”

“It was very nice, at the time,” Blake said, with a slight touch of a groan. “The company was wonderful, but-”

“But you ate too much?” Yang said, with a grin on her face that could have devoured many unpleasant things.

“When Ruby is begging you to share a chocolate chip sundae with her, it’s very hard to say no,” Blake pointed out.

Yang let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, don’t I know it.”

Blake’s lips twitched slightly. “You’re very lucky, to have-”

“A sister like her, yeah, I know,” Yang said. “Of course, if I was really lucky, we’d be on the same team together.”

Blake frowned. “I… I don’t have any siblings, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, but Sunset-”

“Is becoming more of a sister to her than I am.” Yang finished.

“That’s not true,” Blake replied. “I was going to say that Sunset takes care of her; they all do. Not that she really needs it. She’s brave, capable; you should be proud of her.”

“I am proud of her,” Yang insisted. “I just…” She paused, staring intently at Blake. “How much have they told you?”

Blake hesitated. Yang asked how much Blake had been told, but Blake found it difficult to answer without knowing exactly what Ruby had told Yang. Asking that question, however, could seem facetious at best and downright insulting at worst, so she tried – she had no choice – but to guess what it was that Yang knew. She guessed that Ruby would have told Yang everything that pertained to her, but nothing more than that; she wouldn’t have told Yang Sunset’s secrets. “I know about her eyes,” she said.

Yang nodded. “I thought you might. Hard to keep secrets from someone in the same room.”

“Do Ren and Nora know?”

Yang’s smile was a little wan. “I said it was hard, not impossible. Especially when you’ve no one to talk about it with where they might hear. No. They don’t know. I don’t… what would I tell them, that my sister has magic eyes? I like them both, but I don’t want them to think I’m nuts. And I’m not sure that this is their business.”

“But you were fine with Ruby telling her teammates and making it their business?” Blake asked.

“Ruby can trust who she wants to trust, and so can I,” Yang replied.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Are you trusting me?”

“Ruby already made that choice for me, a little bit,” Yang declared. “But… yeah, I think I trust you.”

“Why?” Blake inquired. “I mean… why am I even here? Why do you want me here? Why were you so quick to offer me a place here?”

Yang affixed Blake with the gaze of her lilac eyes. "Because… because nobody should have to be alone, abandoned. Everyone should have… a place where they belong. A place they can call home. That's how I feel, anyway, and while I can't speak for Ren or Nora, I… I think that they feel the same way that I do."

"That's… that's incredibly generous of you," Blake murmured, "but all the same, you gave up one of your teammates-"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell Dove no, we couldn't spare him?"

"You could," Blake said, thinking to herself that Sunset probably would have said exactly that if Ruby or Pyrrha or even Jaune wanted to switch teams.

"Maybe," Yang allowed, "but I don't think Dove would have been very happy with me if I did. If this is what he really wants… it's better this way. If he feels that strongly about it, then who am I to stand in his way? I'm his team leader, not his owner."

"No, I suppose…" Blake trailed off for a moment. "I hadn't thought about it like that before." She paused. "Do you think they'll be okay?"

"Who?"

"Dove and Team Bluebell," Blake explained. "Or just Team Bluebell now, I suppose."

"I don't know about the rest of them, but Dove's got it where it counts," Yang assured her.

"Are you sorry to lose him?"

"Nah," Yang declared, and whether she was lying or not, Blake appreciated the fact that she seemed perfectly sincere. "I've seen you in sparring class. You're good. Not as good as me, maybe," she added with a chuckle. "But you're good. You'll do great as part of this team."

"If my situation allows," Blake murmured. "If… if I… you know."

"Don't worry about it," Yang said. "You do what you have to do right now, and later, we can worry about what'll happen if you decide to leave. You're really considering it then? Atlas?"

Blake nodded. "I really am. I haven't made my mind up to say yes, but I haven't made my mind up to say no, either."

"Why?" Yang asked. "I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, then just say so. I don't mean to pry into your business; I'm just curious, if that's okay."

"It's fine," Blake said, yet nevertheless, she paused a moment before answering. In fact, she did not answer, save with another question. "Yang, what is it that you want to do when you graduate?"

Yang shrugged. "The usual huntsman stuff, I guess. Saving people, hunting things; the family business."

Blake nodded. She had thought as much. "I… no offence, but I'm not sure that's enough for me."

Yang stared at her. "You're not sure that you can go out beyond the kingdoms to fight the monsters and then come back to find the monsters inside the kingdoms as high and mighty as ever."

"Exactly," Blake whispered. "If only people who deserved salvation were saved, then Ruby would be wandering the streets of Vale all by herself, but I think that we ought to at least try to make a world that doesn't deserve to be consumed by the grimm."

"No argument there, but you think Atlas is the place for that?"

"I think that in Atlas, a huntress can become powerful in ways that she can't in the other kingdoms."

"You mean in Atlas, a soldier can become powerful," Yang replied. "Because let's be honest, the reason why Atlas is different is that its huntsmen are military."

"Is that a bad thing, do you think?"

"I don't know, but you might find it isn't what you're used to."

"I've been in a military of sorts before," Blake pointed out.

"Right," Yang muttered. "Of course you have. And I guess you have a point; there isn't so much thing as a bigshot huntress the way that there are generals and stuff in Atlas. And if that's what you want, then… but do you really believe it? No offence, but it's Atlas. Do you think it can happen?"

"I don't know," Blake admitted. "That's what… I suppose you could say that's what's holding me back. It might be the best way to change the world, it might even be the only way, but I don't know if I have it in me to make that kind of sacrifice for nothing. That… and the fact that it's Atlas, and although the Atlesians I've met have been much better people than I expected, I haven't really met very many Atlesians." She sighed. "I just don't know. I haven't figured it out yet."

"You will," Yang assured her.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Yang replied. "When the end of the year comes, you'll know where it is you need to go. You might not even make your mind up, but you'll know in your gut." She grinned. "Speaking of the gut, do you have any room in there?"

Blake's eyes widened. "You want to fill me up more?"

"What do you think Ren and Nora are doing?" Yang asked. "They're cooking. Well, Ren is cooking, Nora is… keeping him company. Dove's coming back too."

"Really?"

Yang nodded. "Ren suggested it: we say farewell to one member of our team and welcome a new one."

Blake smiled. "That… that sounds lovely," she admitted. "But I can't guarantee that I won't throw up if I eat any more."

Yang's cackling laughter echoed off the walls.

The Infinite Man (New)

The Infinite Man

“Do you want to grab a table and set up while I grab our stuff?” Sunset asked, as the door of the A & P ice cream café shut behind them.

Cinder started towards the nearest table – which happened to be one of the ones near the window – even as she said, “I question why we’re here.”

“You know exactly why we’re here; we’re going to start work on our coursework for Legends class,” Sunset replied.

“Obviously,” Cinder said. “But why are we doing that here? We could have just as easily started work in the library, or in one of the dorm rooms for that matter.”

“Neither of those places has ice cream,” Sunset said flatly, because what other explanation was needed, really? “Have you really never gone to a coffee shop or the like to do your homework?”

Cinder stared at her blankly. “No.”

“You poor, deprived girl,” Sunset murmured. She had gotten a bit out of the habit of it here at Beacon, if only because it was such a long way to go to get into Vale, but she had come to places like this all the time in Canterlot. There was one particular place that she’d really liked, an open plaza in the Haymarket with a lot of food stalls and the like surrounding it, always quite busy, but if you knew the right time to get there, you could usually grab a seat. Sunset would head over there frequently – not least because it was close to the best antique bookshop in Canterlot – and get ice cream from a stall run by a unicorn named Strawberry Swirl who wore a red and white striped apron and who always acted as though Sunset Shimmer coming round was the best thing to happen to him all day. Sunset had been so egotistical that she’d assumed her presence was the best thing to happen to him all day. It had been a nice place to work, that plaza in the Haymarket. As nice as anywhere else she had put down her books and quill in Canterlot… weather permitting, obviously.

Sadly, it was a tradition she had found harder to keep up in the Canterlot of Remnant; the looks of disdain had been too much to put up with, in the end. But Vale – that dust shop owner aside – hadn’t been so bad in this regard, so she had hopes for this place.

If her hopes were disappointed, then Jaune and Pyrrha would be hearing about it in the most strenuous terms.

Cinder looked as though she were trying to stifle a laugh. “Yes, truly the wretchedness of my existence has been thrown into stark relief by the fact that I never learnt to do my schoolwork in a café.” She stood over the table, one hand resting lightly upon it but, as yet, making no move to sit down. “You know, the library may not have ice cream, but it does have all the books we may need.”

“I have books right here,” Sunset said, tapping the pack slung over her shoulder and getting a satisfying thump out of the books contained therein, “and besides, this is just our first session to brainstorm ideas. We don’t need to worry about research just yet.”

Cinder shrugged. “Space could be an issue.”

“Space is not going to be an issue,” Sunset insisted. “Honestly, I decide to take you somewhere nice, and all you do is quibble about it.”

“Oh, so this is your treat?” Cinder asked. Her teeth flashed for a moment. “Well, in that case,” – she sat herself down at the table, leaning back in her chair – “please, don’t let me stop you spending your lien on me.”

Sunset made a sound that was half sigh, half chuckle. “I knew you’d come around. What do you want?”

Cinder didn’t even bother to look at the menus above the counter. “I’ll have two scoops of vanilla and a small Atlesiano.”

Sunset blinked. “That’s it? You know you don’t need to hold back on account of saving me money.”

“I’m not.”

“You could have fooled me,” Sunset replied. “That can’t be all you want.”

“What should I want instead?” Cinder asked. “What’s good here?”

“I don’t know; this is my first time,” Sunset admitted. “Jaune and Pyrrha went here on a date a couple of days ago; they said the pie was good. I was going to go for a sundae, though.” She grinned. “Do you want to share a sundae? It'll be better than two scoops of vanilla, I guarantee it.”

Cinder hesitated for a moment, before a slight smile teased its way to the edges of her mouth. “Alright, go ahead,” she said. “Although I warn you, I’ve always had a little bit of a problem when it comes to taking only my fair share. Somehow, a fair share always turns out to be… everything.”

Sunset chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll hold my own,” she said, pulling her satchel off her shoulder and slinging it over the arm of the other chair, leaving Cinder to watch over it as she made her way to the counter. While she and Cinder had been arguing, someone else had come in and gotten up there first, but Sunset didn’t mind the wait too much because it gave her a chance to study the menus on the wall above. Jaune and Pyrrha had said that this place was nice, and the ice cream on the other side of the glass case seemed pretty nice too, even if Sunset wasn’t entirely sure about the décor. Was there really a need for so many cows? She tried her best to ignore them all and focus upon what was available to eat. The hot drinks were pretty much as she had expected, but some of the hot chocolates seemed as nice as Jaune and Pyrrha had made them sound. She turned her attention to the sundaes, her green eyes widening as she saw that they were offering a vanilla, raspberry whirl, and strawberry sundae.

That had been her favourite order back in Canterlot, the real Canterlot. To be honest, it had been pretty much her only order, so regular that Strawberry Swirl had known to start getting it ready when he saw her coming.

It beckoned to her, like a little slice of home.

“Thank you,” the girl behind the counter – Sunset wondered if this was the same girl that she’d been told about, the girl from Jaune’s past – said to the customer in front of Sunset as he departed with his tray. To Sunset, as she shuffled forwards, she said, “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“I’ll take a vanilla, raspberry whirl, and strawberry sundae for two, with wafers and chocolate flakes,” Sunset said on instinct, only adding the ‘for two’ in a brief remembrance that this time, she had someone else with her. “And a… medium mocha and a small Atlesiano.” It was a little early in the day for a lavish hot chocolate on top of everything else, and the little touch of coffee would help to keep her wits sharp. She decided that she would respect Cinder’s drink order; they could always get refills if they were here for long enough.

“Eating in?” the girl behind the counter said.

“Yeah,” Sunset said, biting back the urge to point out that of course they were eating in; that was why Cinder was sitting down. She didn’t want this girl to spit in her coffee.

“Okay, if you wait here, I’ll get all that sorted out for you as fast as I can. In the meantime… that’s fourteen lien.”

Sunset paid, sliding across a couple of cards. “So,” she said, “you’re Jaune’s friend?”

The girl’s eyes widened. “You know Jaune? Jaune Arc?”

“I’m his team leader,” Sunset declared. “And you’re Miranda Wells?”

“Sure,” Miranda said, her tone a little wary without being unfriendly. “Jaune… told you about this place?”

“I hope it lives up to his recommendation,” Sunset said.

Miranda laughed. “I’ll try my best,” she said. “So, are you here on a date, too?”

“A d-” Sunset glanced around at Cinder. “Oh, no, we’re here for a study session.”

Miranda’s eyebrows rose. “A study session. In here?”

“You’re a student, right?”

“A Literature student, yeah.”

“You’ve never sat in a café and gotten some work done?”

“I work in a café,” Miranda replied. “I do my work in my dorm room.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “So uncivilised.”

“Hey, if it works for you, then go for it,” Miranda said. “I didn’t mean to… I might even try it myself sometime. I should probably stop talking and get your order before you ask for your money back, shouldn’t I?” Nevertheless, she made no move to actually take their order, but rather lingered at the counter, watching Sunset before she leaned forwards, her elbows resting upon the work surface. “So, you’re Jaune’s team leader? Does that mean you’re sort of in charge of him?”

“It means exactly that I am in charge of him,” Sunset affirmed.

“Right,” Miranda said softly, nodding her head absently. “Um, please don’t tell her I said this, but… that girl, Pyrrha… she’s really into him, isn’t she?”

Sunset folded her arms. “Sure, she’s got it bad, what about it?” You don’t still think you’re in with a chance, do you? Miranda Wells was pretty enough, and in a small town, she might even be thought of as a beauty, but put next to Pyrrha Nikos, and there was no comparison at all, even if you were so shallow as to only judge by looks. More to the point, if anything – or anyone – did come between Jaune and Pyrrha, then Pyrrha would be heartbroken, and the team would be split in two. Sunset wasn’t about to let that happen.

“It’s just that… when you really care about someone, it can make you… have you heard of 'unreliable narrator'?”

“Yes.”

“It’s like that, but with people you love, don’t you think?” Miranda asked. “My point is… is Jaune any good? Pyrrha told me he was, pretty much, but she-”

“Cares about him too much, is that what you think?” Sunset asked.

Miranda shrank back a little. “Maybe,” she confessed. “I just need someone more… is he any good?”

“Even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t tell you,” Sunset declared. “You see, Pyrrha may be his girlfriend, but I’m his team leader, and that means that when it comes to my team, I’m the most unreliable narrator there is, because I’ve got the best team in Beacon, and I’ll fight any other huntsman who says different.” She grinned. “But you don’t have to take my word for it: come the Vytal Festival, keep your eyes open for Team Sapphire, spelled S-A-P-R, and you’ll see for yourself just how good Jaune Arc is.”

“'S-A-P-R,'” Miranda repeated. She blinked. “You realise that also stands for Se-”

“Yes, I know, although I wish I didn’t,” Sunset said rapidly. She considered herself very fortunate that nobody had stooped so low as to make jokes about it.

“Right, sorry,” Miranda said. “I… I really will get your stuff together now.”

She turned away, leaving Sunset to watch over her shoulder as Miranda busied herself with the getting of drinks and the making of sundaes. A sundae, anyway. The sundae itself was a delicious-looking concoction of ice creams, whipped cream, strawberry compote, and crushed shortbread biscuit, garlanded with lashings of red sauce and sliced strawberries. It was a riot of red, white, and pale yellow against which the two brown chocolate flakes stood over very starkly, but Sunset wanted them anyway. The two cups of coffee steamed on either side of the cold glass when they were all placed upon the tray.

"Enjoy," Miranda said.

"Thanks," Sunset replied, picking up the tray with both hands and carrying it back to the table where Cinder waited. "Feast your eyes on this, Miss Two Scoops of Vanilla," she declared as she set it down upon the table.

Cinder regarded the sundae for a moment. One obsidian eyebrow rose above a fiery eye. "I had no idea that you had such a sweet tooth," she murmured.

"Where I come from, everyone has a sweet tooth," Sunset replied as she sat down. "It's culturally illegal not to."

"Really?" Cinder asked in an arch tone. "How very convenient for you."

Sunset grinned. "Just try some."

Cinder picked up one of the small spoons dug into the sloping sides of the sundae and scooped out a small amount of sauce-covered raspberry ripple ice cream onto it. She placed it into her mouth. Sunset took a slightly larger spoonful, incorporating vanilla and raspberry, and let it set her teeth to shivering as she waited for Cinder's response.

Cinder nodded, although there was no great store of enthusiasm in her voice as she said, "I see why you wanted me to try this." She paused. "You spent a little time talking to the girl up there."

"She's an old friend of Jaune."

"Jaune has friends?"

"Stop it," Sunset said, her tone acquiring a warning edge.

Cinder chuckled. "You can't take a little mild teasing?"

"You can tease me; leave them out of it," Sunset told her.

"Suit yourself," Cinder acknowledged. "All the same, what did you have to talk about with a friend of Jaune Arc?"

"She wanted an honest assessment of his skill level."

"Did you give her one?"

"Of course not, I'm his team leader," Sunset said. "But that's what we talked about. That, and she thought we were here on a date, absurdly."

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Is there something absurd about it?"

"Oh, please," Sunset said. "I'm so out of your league, it's not even funny."

Cinder smirked. "Of course. We must all know our places and our limitations, mustn't we? What would the world come to if we all set our heights as high as ambition?" She picked up her coffee and drained half of the small cup in a single sip.

Sunset's eyes widened. "Sun and moon, Cinder, what's your tongue made of?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you drink so much of that without burning your tongue?" Sunset repeated.

"Oh, is it hot?" Cinder asked, with a shrug of her shoulders. "I can't say I really noticed."

"Okay," Sunset said, slowly and deliberately, before she took a much smaller sip of her own coffee, and only after she'd blown on it first because it was very hot. The contrast of that and the ice cream was very pronounced, going from one to the other, but in a good way, pretty much. Sunset took out her copy of Fairy Tales of Remnant from the satchel hanging off the arm of her chair, her hands glowing as she levitated book, notepad, and pen onto the table in front of her as she pushed the sundae into the middle of the table – where they could both reach it – and her coffee to one side. "You're okay with something from the book, right?"

"Fine by me," Cinder answered, as she got out her own copy of Fairy Tales. "I'm a little surprised that it's fine by you. I thought that you might want to reach for something a little more… exotic."

"Wandering into the weeds is fine if you can find your way back again," Sunset explained. "I'm not sure I'm familiar enough with any off-book stories to do them justice in a piece like this." She remembered what had happened to Jaune and Ruby in their history quarter-terms in first semester, when the advanced approach that Sunset had led them on had exposed their weakness on the course basics. She wasn't going to let that happen to her.

"As I said, it's fine by me," Cinder repeated. "Not least because the story I was hoping we could tackle is in the book."

Sunset took another mouthful of ice cream. "Go on," she prompted.

Cinder leaned forward a little. "I was thinking that we could take on The Infinite Man." She drained the rest of her coffee.

"You want another one?" Sunset asked.

"Not right now," Cinder said. "So, what do you think?"

Sunset nodded. "It is an interesting story. There are a lot of different ways to look at it, which means that there is a lot to write about it."

Cinder rested her elbows on the table top. "What do you think about it?"

Sunset thought about it and covered her thoughts by taking first a sip of her mocha and then a bite out of her chocolate flake, and while she chewed, she pondered the matter. The Infinite Man was the tale a man possessed of… of magic.

Sunset stopped mid-chew, though she swiftly resumed, lest Cinder notice anything amiss. In the books that Twilight had given her, magical abilities belonged exclusively to women – to four women at a time – but here was a tale of immense magic in the hands of a man. How had he come by it, and what made him so special? Could he be the Old Man in the tales of the prophets? The wizard who had assembled the five heroes to hunt down the Red Queens? Or was it, perhaps, just a story?

Why should I take one set of stories as real and dismiss the other as just a story?

Of course, the Infinite Man was not just a powerful wielder of magic – he was also immortal, after a fashion, hence the name – but it was a strange sort of immortality, to Sunset's mind. She was, of course, no stranger to the notion: as every little colt and filly knew, Princess Celestia had lived for over a thousand years and ruled Equestria for nearly as long without appearing to age at all in all that time. But the Infinite Man did not endure forever – it would have been a very different story if he had – rather, he died and then reincarnated with a new face, one that even those closest to him did not recognise.

That sounded just a little farfetched to Sunset's way of thinking; perhaps it was arbitrary of her to dismiss the possibility, but having seen nothing like it in this world or Equestria – and the fact that, unlike the prophets or red queens or whatever you wished to call them, this man only appeared in one story – Sunset was inclined to call it a little bit of poetic license. Perhaps it had been based upon the sages who recurred throughout mythology, but Sunset doubted they had actually been the same person.

Cinder cocked her head to one side. "Sunset?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Sunset said quickly, before she started to look even more insensible than she did now. "I was just thinking."

"A useful way to pass the time," Cinder observed. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking," Sunset said, "that the Infinite Man considers that he makes many mistakes, but to my mind, he only makes one: the decision to throw the fight." It was, to Sunset's mind, a completely inexplicable moment for all the effort that the story made to explain it. The Infinite Man, over the course of two lifetimes, had established a mighty organisation, a band of followers who were described as being as gods in their own right and who dedicated themselves to the protection of the innocent and the advancement of the cause of righteousness. Yet these mighty warriors, these god-like men and women, had found themselves caught flat-footed when attacked by a crew of lawless resolutes led by a duel-wielding swordswoman bent on defeating a god, presumably for the satisfaction of her own ego. The Infinite Man had striven against her at first, but then, he had willingly laid down his life, baring his throat for her sword on the promise that she would depart and spare his followers.

Sunset had not been at all surprised to read on and find out that she had not spared the man's followers.

"He trusted in the honour of his enemy," Sunset continued, "and surprise, surprise, she had none. It was entirely foreseeable – no, it was obvious – that she would betray him like that."

"You don't think much of the reasons given, I take it?" Cinder murmured.

"The fear of collateral damage?" Sunset snorted. "Everyone died anyway, how bad could it have possibly gotten?"

Cinder smirked. "True enough, I suppose."

"And that's another thing that doesn't make sense," Sunset continued. "This group that the man sets up, they are supposed to be great warriors; it says so, in the story, they trained to become like gods and then they went out and fought the monsters, just like huntsmen do today; their legend grew exponentially over time, their numbers swelled as more and more people flocked to join them. And yet, in a single night of misfortune, they are broken, annihilated even, and by what? A rabble of scum from out of nowhere?"

"You find that strange?" Cinder asked curiously. "You find that difficult to explain? I'm a little surprised; it makes perfect sense to me."

"How do you mean?" Sunset asked.

Cinder was silent for a moment. "I think I will have that refill now," she said and got up from the table, leaving Sunset to wait and finish off some more of the sundae – Cinder wanted to get in quick or there wouldn't be much left – before she returned with another, larger, cup of coffee.

"Now," Cinder said, "where was I?"

"You were about to explain the fall of the man's followers," Sunset prompted.

"Ah, yes," Cinder said, stirring her coffee idly with a long spoon, scraping it across the bottom of her cup with a scratching sound that persisted as she spoke. "In a way, you answered the question yourself: they were just like huntsmen."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "I don't follow."

Cinder continued to stir her coffee, the spoon making a wince-inducing sound as it scraped the cup. "Four academies: Shade, Haven, Atlas, Beacon. I'm sure that when they were founded, the first students to walk through the halls were just like the girl in the fairy tale who first convinces the Infinite Man to teach her: brave, honourable, committed to the fight. I'm sure that the Circle was once as mighty as its reputation suggested, just as the huntsmen who defend our kingdoms were once heroes worthy of song and story. But this story covers a span of generations: the young girl is a middle-aged woman by the time the Infinite Man returns from death the first time, and he lives another life before all that he worked for turns to ashes before his eyes. Look at what has happened to the huntsman academies in only a slightly longer span of time; the halls of these hallowed institutions have become the haunts of spoiled brats, Schnees and Winchesters and Kommeni with nothing to recommend them but family money, only here because they wish to reveal in the acclaim of being huntsmen, to be fawned over for their physical power as much as the power their money can supply. Such, I have no doubt, was the fate of the Circle: its fortress polluted and its strength diluted by mediocrities more interested in sharing in the prestige of membership of such a distinguished order than in working to further its goals, let alone give their lives for it. Such is the fate of all institutions; the iron always rusts, covered with the oxide of complacency until it crumbles at the slightest touch."

"I'm not sure I agree," Sunset murmured.

"Is there any particular part you disagree with, or is your dissent general?"

"I admit that there are some in Beacon whom I wouldn't have let in if I was the headmaster, but I wouldn't say that we're so rusted over yet," Sunset replied. "I'd say there are more good than bad still, at Beacon at least."

"We'll see," Cinder said. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps the students of Beacon and the other academies are good for more than preening before the cameras at the Vytal Festival. You have, I admit, demonstrated that you and your team are certainly not without skill." She paused. "There is another possibility, if you find my first suggestion too cynical, which is that the Circle was never actually all that it was cracked up to be."

"You mean the stories exaggerate their prowess without considering what that means for their fall?" Sunset asked.

"Perhaps their prowess was exaggerated even during the Circle's existence."

"You think it actually existed?"

"I think something like it probably existed, or what inspired the story?" Cinder replied.

Sunset nodded; it was more likely than the Infinite Man's unlikely mode of immortality. "Okay, but you think they were never as great as the story would have us believe?"

"I think that they wished to be thought of as much greater than they were; they may even have believed it themselves before war came to their doorstep," Cinder said. "I'm sure they were perfectly capable of despatching grimm, but… well, look at your friends from Atlas and all their toys taking up the skies overhead. Where does this preeminent military reputation enjoyed by Atlas come from? Everyone agrees that they are the mightiest of the four kingdoms, but Atlas has not faced a war since its foundation; we are, as we are incessantly reminded, living in an era of peace. So upon what firm foundation rests all of this northern bravado? What have they done to earn it? If they were to be confronted by a true threat, by a power they could not overawe with the shadow of a single warship, would not all their fine talk turn to dust, and all their arrogance wither into fear?"

"Don't let Rainbow Dash here you say that," Sunset remarked.

Cinder snorted. "Don't worry, I won't. I find Atlesians tiresome enough already, as you might be able to tell; present company accepted, of course."

"Thank you," Sunset said, inclining her head graciously. "You certainly have a lot to say upon this story, no wonder you wanted to choose this one so badly."

"And you?"

"Nothing comparable to the amount of thought you've given to it, I'm afraid," Sunset admitted. "Except to say that… either or both of your suggestions has merit." Certainly it matched her Equestrian experience; Sunset had heard no less than Robyn Hill, their captain, admit to the princess that the Royal Guard had atrophied over the generations of peace that Celestia had wrought. That fact had not troubled Princess Celestia herself, who had preferred the peace to any toughening of the guard that might result from conflict, but it showed in the way that Equestria now seemed dependent on Twilight Sparkle and her friends to protect it from all menaces.

"And the moral of the story?" Cinder asked. "Is the man a hero, a villain, or a fool?"

Sunset considered it for a moment. "A fool," she said after a few moments. "He doesn't have the strength of character to be either hero or villain."

"No?"

Sunset shook her head. "He continuously bemoans his flaws, his unfitness to be a hero, still less a god, and yet he allows the girl to talk him into becoming a leader and sharing his power with others; later he allows his enemy to talk him into dying. Before that, when he died the first time, he comes back and wanders back to his old comrades seemingly for want of anything else to do or anywhere else to go, even though he keeps talking how unfit to lead them he is!"

"I'm intuiting that you were ever so slightly frustrated with him," Cinder murmured.

"Leaders should have a proper pride in themselves," Sunset declared, "and they should always put on a brave face amongst their followers." Princess Celestia had never shown Sunset any weakness, and when Sunset had caught her in a position of vulnerability, it was when the princess hadn't known that Sunset was there, watching.

"Is that how you run your team? With a brave face and a refusal to admit any fault or flaw?"

"No," Sunset admitted. "But I don't confess to more than I have to. Or at least, I shouldn't."

"You didn't learn that in Professor Goodwitch's leadership class."

"I've had better teachers in leadership than Professor Goodwitch," Sunset said. "My point is that, for all his power, the Infinite Man is a slave to the last word in his ear; he can be persuaded of anything; he ultimately shows no convictions at all. That's why he cannot be a hero or a villain, and so, he must be a fool."

"I agree that he is a fool, but not for those reasons," Cinder replied, "but because to be a hero or a villain, he would have had to have achieved something, to have done or built something that mattered. And yet, the only accomplishment we learn of – the only thing about him that is recorded – is that he built a society that was destroyed in two generations or so, leaving no trace of its existence. He built a fortress, he trained an army, but he did nothing with either of them."

"He sent them forth to help those in need," Sunset pointed out.

"Doubtless, they were still in need after his champions departed," Cinder countered. "Did he make himself a lord over the region? What did he do to keep these places safe after he saved them? Nothing. He sat in his fortress while the world grew dark outside until the darkness burst like a tide over his walls and swept him and all the fools who put their trust in him aside. The warrior woman, in destroying his Circle, accomplished more than he did in the end." She smiled. "I'd like to hear her story, find out what drove her to seek out a god and challenge him in battle. Was it simply for the thrill of the combat, or did she have a larger goal in mind?"

A smile played across Sunset's face. "If you were writing that story, what would your answer be?"

"I?" Cinder asked, seeming surprised to have been asked. "I… I would have it so that she sought out a god, this great challenge, greater than any that she could have found or faced before in her life… she sought him out because she wished to dance with death, because only in battle… did she feel alive."

Study Partners (New)

Study Partners

Pyrrha stepped into the Team YRDN – Team YRBN now, she supposed – dorm room. “How are you finding your new accommodations?” she asked politely.

Blake was already seated at the desk. “It’s nice to have a bed that I can sleep in without feeling guilty about it,” she said dryly. “How are you?”

Pyrrha chuckled softly. “You ask me that as though it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she declared.

Blake smiled, at least for a moment. “Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said quietly as she pulled out the chair and sat down along the same bank of desks as Blake, the two of them facing the wall, although they both turned their chairs so that they were halfway to facing each other too. “Are the rest of the team alright with us driving them out of the room like this?”

“It’s fine,” Blake assured her. “They all have somewhere else to be.”

“It’s just that Jaune and Dove are using the dorm room across the hall,” Pyrrha explained.

“It’s fine,” Blake repeated. “It’s nice to spend some time in my own room.” She sighed. “I need to get used to it, for as long as I’m here.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “Sunset mentioned that you were thinking of transferring to Atlas.”

“'Mentioned' seems a kind word for what I can imagine her saying,” Blake observed.

Pyrrha let out a nervous laugh. “Well,” she said, “I think we’d all… if you were to stay here, we would all be very glad of your company,” she added, “but if Atlas is what you want, then, well… who am I to tell you not to cross an ocean in pursuit of your dreams?”

Blake’s smile returned to her face, a little broader this time. “Can I ask why you did it?” she asked. “Chose Beacon over Haven?”

“Beacon’s reputation stands higher than that of Haven Academy,” Pyrrha replied. “Everyone knows that there are no better huntsmen than those trained at Beacon Academy.”

“On average,” Blake pointed out.

“True, but you cannot have been blind to the allure of Beacon’s reputation when you chose it for yourself,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Of course not, but I don’t have the power to single-handedly reverse the fortunes of Haven,” Blake said.

Pyrrha snorted. “You make too much of me.”

“You don’t make enough of yourself.”

“A fact that is… not entirely accidental, I assure you,” Pyrrha murmured. Her green eyes locked into Blake’s golden gaze. “At the risk of indulging in a great amount of self-pity, can you imagine what it would have been like for me at Haven? Not only the Invincible Girl but the Princess Without a Crown too? The Champion of Mistral, her pride and glory reborn. There is no doubt in my mind that I could have spent the Initiation dithering hopelessly, and Professor Lionheart would have made me team leader for no other reason than it was expected of him. I would have been indulged in everything I wanted, allowed to break whatever rules I felt like, fawned on and flattered without regard for whether I deserved flattery, let alone for whether I wanted it or not.” She shook her head. “No, that was… that was not what I desired out of my training.”

Blake nodded. “When I was a little younger, before I came to Vale with… before I came to Vale, I was close to Sienna Khan, the leader of the White Fang. After my parents left for Menagerie, my name no longer carried any weight, but the fact that I was sat at Sienna’s feet meant that there was still no shortage of people who sought her favour through me. I have some idea of what you’re talking about. I don’t blame you for wanting to get away.”

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. “Flattery is never pleasant, or I have not found it so, but do you think that it is worse when one knows oneself to be without true friends, or does having real friendship – or more than that – to contrast it against makes it worse when people are obviously insincere when they pretend to care?”

Blake looked thoughtful. “I don’t think it matters,” she admitted. “It doesn’t make it any less or more insincere than it was before. Why?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Pyrrha said. “I was just thinking… my mother wished me to return to Mistral and transfer to Haven for the beginning of this semester, because of the danger posed by the White Fang. I was just wondering if everything I just described would have been even worse for me if I had carried my members of Team Sapphire with me when I went there.”

“I couldn’t say,” Blake replied. “And you’ll never have to find out.”

Pyrrha smiled. “No,” she said gladly. “No, I won’t.”

“Is that why you’re not speaking to your mother?” Blake asked. “Because she wanted you to come home?”

Pyrrha licked her lips. “No,” she said, quietly but firmly. “No, that is because… she tried to come between me and Jaune,” she said, after a moment. “And she did so in a way that… it isn’t easy for me to forgive.”

Blake might not have fully understood, but she was courteous enough to not ask for any further details. Instead, she said, “I… I can’t say for certain how bad it was, the thing she did to you, and I’m not going to tell you that your anger with her isn’t merited; we have the right to be treated well by those who claim to love us, and we can’t… we can’t let ourselves forget that. But... speaking as someone who hasn’t spoken to either of her parents for too long, eventually the anger burns out, and all you’re left with is their absence from your life… but by then, it can often be too late.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. She reached out and took Blake’s hand. “How long has it been?”

“Five years,” Blake said. “Since my father stepped down as High Leader and retired to Menagerie.”

“They were angry at you for staying?”

Blake shook her head. “I was angry at them for leaving. I… said things that… at first, I didn’t want to unsay them, and then, by the time I changed my mind… assuming that I could have taken them back… it had been too long by far.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“You don’t know what I said.”

“No,” Pyrrha allowed, “but if your parents love you, then-”

“Then they’ll forgive me, as you’ve forgiven your mother?” Blake asked.

Pyrrha’s mouth tightened. “You make a very good point. Two very good points, one of which is that I have no right to lecture you.”

“I didn’t mean to be harsh or rude or unkind,” Blake said quickly. “Please, forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Pyrrha insisted. “You were quite right.” She paused, a little hesitant, wondering if she was once again about to pry into Blake’s private affairs, and yet, the glint of the silver armband around Blake’s left arm, the light reflecting off it even as it glimmered off the band of gold and bronze that Pyrrha wore, called silently out to her.

“That’s a very pretty armband,” Pyrrha observed, somewhat disingenuously.

Blake glanced at the silver band, where it rested upon the black silk bound around her arm. “It’s not as fancy as yours,” she replied.

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “I suppose it isn’t. May I ask, is it an honour band?”

Blake blinked. “Of course you know what that is,” she whispered. “You’re the first person to ask, but-”

“I am a Mistralian, after all,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“So are Ren and Nora,” Blake pointed.

“Yes, but I think Ren and Nora have had an… unconventional upbringing,” Pyrrha replied. The honour band was an important part of Mistralian culture – there was a reason why the Haven uniform featured a white band around the left arm – but it was specifically the culture of the elite, the warrior aristocrats of old, and neither Ren nor Nora could be said to be that, for all their splendid virtues. “I suppose I’m a little surprised; I never thought of you as being Mistralian.”

“I’m not,” Blake admitted, “but my parents were, and so was my mentor, and I spent some time in Mistral.” Her hand pulled free from Pyrrha’s grip and went to the band around her arm; whether it was purposeful or reflexive, Pyrrha couldn’t have said. “Did your mother give that to you?” One did not simply choose their own band; it was a gift, and through wearing, it you honoured in deed them who had bestowed it on you.

“Actually, no,” Pyrrha replied. “My teacher, Chiron, gave this to me when I was sixteen years old and he had nothing left to teach me.”

A smile played across Blake’s lips. “What words did you choose?” she asked, referring to the inscription that she guessed would be on the inside of the band, invisible but pressing against Pyrrha’s skin.

Pyrrha traced a circle on the wood of the desk with one gloved fingertip. “With Good Fortune.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Not what I would have expected,” she confessed.

“Why not?” Pyrrha asked. “I have been exceedingly lucky throughout my life, from the circumstances in which I was born to… if I had not been born Pyrrha Nikos, I doubt that I would be where I am today.”

“You might be happier if you had been born someone else,” Blake suggested.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed, “but I would not be in such a position to assist the world and I must be thankful for that. I have been lucky in my semblance, too, that has helped me to a few of my victories. Lucky in my teammates, my friends, lucky…” She felt a faint flush of colour rise to her cheeks. “Lucky in Jaune.” She chuckled. “I have been very blessed throughout my life, and I am not unmindful of it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Blake murmured. “Just so long…”

“Blake?” Pyrrha prompted.

“Don’t let your thankfulness for good luck make you forget that you… don’t let it convince you that you don’t deserve these things; luck isn’t the only reason you are where you are.”

“Are you sure I’m the one who needs that advice?”

Blake snorted. “I’m better at giving advice than taking it.”

Pyrrha did her the decency of not agreeing with that. “What of you? Who gave you your band?”

Blake was quiet for a moment, and Pyrrha feared that she would say it was Adam, that brute who seemed to leave such a cruel mark upon all who crossed his path, but she said in the end, “Sienna Khan, after my first battle.” She pressed her fingers against it. “It probably seems perverse of me to keep wearing it, to honour her even after leaving her cause, but-”

“But she was your mentor,” Pyrrha declared, “and you cannot forget it.”

“No,” Blake agreed quietly. “I can’t.”

“And your words?” Pyrrha asked.

Blake paused for a moment. “M-molon labe,” she said, with a slight tremor of hesitation in her voice.

Now, it was Pyrrha’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “‘Come and take them’?”

“I was a kid at the time,” Blake said defensively. “And besides, it was-”

“The response of the first faunus rebels when they were ordered to lay down their arms at the very beginning of the revolution,” Pyrrha murmured. “I know.” She smiled. “To be perfectly honest, I think it suits you.”

Blake looked away. “I… I think we should probably get started on our project, or we will have kicked everyone else out of the room only to waste our time.”

“I don’t regard this time as wasted,” Pyrrha said quietly. “We don’t seem to have spent much time together alone, and I… I regret that.”

Blake nodded. “I regret that too,” she said, “but I think we still ought to get to work.”

“Probably,” Pyrrha conceded. “Do you have any idea what story you want to work on for Doctor Oobleck?”

Blake frowned. “I… I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t want to impose my tastes upon you.”

“Well,” Pyrrha said, feeling a little guilty now that she had given some to which tale she would like to tackle. “I was wondering if we might look at The Shallow Sea.”

Blake blinked. “Did you think that would be a good idea because I’m a faunus?”

“No,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Because it’s one of my favourites.”

Blake was silent a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t called for. It’s just… well, it’s just that I’m very defensive, as you’ve probably noticed already; it’s something that I need to work on.”

Pyrrha didn’t say anything; she didn’t want to make Blake feel bad about herself, after all.

“But it’s also because… The Shallow Sea is a story passed down amongst faunus, orally,” Blake said. “The version in the textbook is the first time that it’s been written down,” she added, with a touch of rancour in her voice.

“You don’t approve,” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Blake replied flatly. “Professor Ozpin-”

“Had good intentions, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said.

“He explains his intentions perfectly well, but that’s not the point,” Blake declared. “He can’t just decide to appropriate a culture not his own – our culture – because he’s worried that the story will die out otherwise.”

“And if it does die out?” Pyrrha asked.

“Then so be it,” Blake said sharply. “That is our choice, to let it die and fade from memory. The story of the men who jumped from the ship into the water because they had faith in the promise of the God of Faunus belongs to those whose people…” She stumbled, momentarily at least, and when she continued, her voice was quieter. “Those whose people jumped from the ships because they knew that death was better than slavery.” Her brow furrowed. “My mother told me that story in the cradle,” she confessed. “As her mother told her and so on. If my mother had decided not to pass it on to me then that would have been her choice, if I choose not to pass it on to my daughter then that’s my choice.”

“And it was my trainer’s choice to tell me that story when I was a girl,” Pyrrha said, “or was that choice not allowed, because the tale does not belong to me?”

“Your trainer was a faunus?”

“A horse faunus, yes,” Pyrrha explained. “He never taught at Haven – he was strictly a private tutor – but nevertheless, he was reputed to be the greatest trainer of warriors in all of Mistral.”

“'Was'?” Blake repeated. “Is he-”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “At least… to be honest, I don’t know. He could be, although I hope not. After he declared that he had nothing left to teach me, after he gave me this band,” – it was Pyrrha’s turn to reach up and touch the band of gold and bronze that sat so snugly around her arm – “he left the city. He did not tell me where he was going, or my mother, or… anyone. He simply left. I wish that he had kept in touch, I was very fond of him.”

“He must have been fond of you too, to tell you that story,” Blake said gently. “The Shallow Sea is… you came by it honestly, and I think that your love for it is honest too.”

“Whereas if I had first found it in Professor Ozpin’s book, it would have been dishonest?”

Blake shuffled uncomfortably. “Well… I have to admit that I didn’t get mad at Penny for liking it.”

“I suspect that if you had, you might not still have all your own teeth,” Pyrrha muttered.

Blake laughed. “Team Rosepetal are very protective,” she admitted. “Although when I did upset Penny, all I got was a stern talking-to from Ciel.”

“How did you manage to upset someone so kind and cheerful as Penny?”

A guilty look settled upon Blake’s face like an airship on the docking pad. “Who do you think gave her the idea that you and Ruby would hate her for being a robot?”

“Ah,” Pyrrha said. “I see. You were lucky to get away with a stern talking-to.”

“Perhaps,” Blake acknowledged. “Or perhaps they accepted that I didn’t mean it; I was just… letting my own feelings get in the way. Again. She likes The Shallow Sea too, you know?”

“Really?”

“It’s not surprising,” Blake said. “Now that you tell me about it, it doesn’t surprise me that it’s a favourite of yours either. Transformation into something more than people think you can be, being seen for what you really are.”

Pyrrha laughed self-deprecatingly. “You have no idea how many nights I lay awake wishing that some god would transform me into my true self, so that I could be seen – really seen – by everyone.”

“Being seen,” Blake said, “isn’t always all that it’s cracked up to be.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “I suppose… I can see that it isn’t for everyone.” Blake had, after all, spent several weeks hiding who and what she was.

“But then again,” Blake continued, “I had the chance to hide what I was, and although a part of me hoped that if I hid what I was, then I might be seen for who I was… another part of me kept on picking fights with Rainbow Dash until my secret came out, so how much did I really want to hide, and how much… how much did I really want to be seen, too?”

“I… I understand why you wanted to hide,” Pyrrha murmured. “Or rather, I don’t understand, I can never understand because – as we’ve established – I was born blessed with good fortune, or, as we might say, unutterable privilege in every single respect. Anyway, my point is, I don’t blame you for wanting to hide a part of yourself, but I’m not sure that we can ever be seen for who we are…”

“If we are hiding what we are?” Blake suggested.

Pyrrha looked away. “I’m talking about things I have no right to speak of.”

“It’s fine,” Blake said. “You might even be right. Since I… I’ve made more friends since I started being honest with people.”

“That might be a coincidence,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Or it might not,” Blake replied. She hesitated. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not do our essay on The Shallow Sea. It isn’t one of my favourites.”

“No?” Pyrrha asked. “I thought you said your mother told it to you?”

“That doesn’t mean I have to have a continued fondness for it,” Blake said.

“No,” Pyrrha conceded. “I’m sorry.”

Blake waved her apology away with one hand. “It doesn’t matter, it’s just… like I said, my feelings on being seen for your true self are a little more ambivalent than a fairytale princess.”

“Did you just call me a fairytale princess?”

Blake shrugged. “They may call you the Princess Without a Crown, but we both know a storybook princess doesn’t need one.”

“They need virtues-”

“Which you have, in abundance,” Blake declared, “but if you don’t like it, then I won’t bring it up again.”

“I, um,” Pyrrha hesitated. “It’s… very kind of you, I’m sure, I just… I suppose I just don’t think of myself that way.”

“Fine,” Blake said quickly. “Another argument against the The Shallow Sea is that there’s not much to it; there’s the central metaphor, and you could possibly talk about courage and faith, but other than that… what is there to say?”

“What about the religious elements?” Pyrrha asked. “I mean… isn’t he…?” She found, a little suddenly, that asking ‘isn’t he your god?’ made the act of enjoying this story on a metaphorical level seem a little, well, as culturally appropriative as Blake had accused it of being.

“Very few people worship the god spoken of in that particular story nowadays,” Blake replied, “and most of those who do live on Menagerie.”

“I can see why,” Pyrrha replied. “The island promised to your people.”

“That’s one of the reasons I don’t like that story all that much,” Blake muttered. “It’s all very well to speak of Menagerie as our birthright, but the truth is that it wasn’t bestowed upon us by any god, but by men who wanted to get rid of us. The whole world should be our birthright; we have as much right to all of Remnant as any man.” Blake pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to get on the stump like that.”

“It’s fine,” Pyrrha assured her. “Your passion is admirable, and a little enviable, to be perfectly honest.”

“You wouldn’t think so if you had to live with it,” Blake informed her. “The point is, in all my life, I’ve only met one person who took The Shallow Sea for the truth of how we came to be. There is a… a cult around the God of Animals, and in the White Fang, it is quite popular, but it’s the god of the The Judgement of Faunus whom they worship.”

“May I ask,” Pyrrha said, “why it is that faunus stories have no endings? They don’t conclude so much as they… just stop.”

The corners of Blake’s lips twitched. “Has your life ended now that you’re with Jaune?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Of course not.”

“And that’s why our stories don’t end,” Blake explained. “Because life doesn’t work like that. Our stories don’t end; even at the end of our lives, we’re lucky to have accomplished everything that we set out to do, if we even find out what it is that we were meant to do. Mostly we… just stop.”

“I can’t help but feel that’s rather bleak.”

“If we’re lucky, we pass on our work to the new generation to carry it forward,” Blake continued. “Our story stops, but the story of our people carries on, and it hasn’t ended yet. We haven’t even found our destiny, as they would put it in Mistral. And neither have I.”

“Atlas or Beacon,” Pyrrha whispered.

“Atlas or Beacon,” Blake agreed. “Are there any other stories that you like that we could take as our subject instead?”

“Well,” Pyrrha said, “The Girl in the Tower is another favourite of mine.”

“Are you sure you’re not a fairytale princess?” Blake asked.

“Please stop,” Pyrrha begged, but warmly and with a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’m sorry, but… it’s quite adorable, really. The story of a lonely girl imprisoned by her cruel father, longing for a hero to appear and rescue her from the drudgery of her existence.”

“I’m sure that every young girl feels that way, about her parents and her lot in life,” Pyrrha murmured. “The difference is that most of them grow out of waiting for a beautiful boy to ride in on a white horse and sweep them off their feet.”

“There’s no need to reproach yourself,” Blake informed her. “Just because you can fight ten men single-handed-”

“I’ve never actually done that.”

“I wouldn’t bet against you,” Blake said. “Although, I must confess, when I was young, I always wondered why the princess didn’t rescue herself.”

“Some prisons, you can’t fight your way out of,” Pyrrha replied. “Certainly not alone.”

“No,” Blake whispered. “I… understand that a little better.”

“I don’t want to bring up any bad memories,” Pyrrha told her. “If you would rather write about something else then-”

“No,” Blake said. “The Girl in the Tower is fine. It’s a pretty story, and there’s space to talk about different aspects of it.”

“You think so?” Pyrrha asked. “I was a little worried you would find the metaphors quite blunt; the husband literally killing the father, the heroine writing the story, that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t say that all the aspects were subtle, but there are a few of them,” Blake said. “An essay’s worth, at least.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I just hope…” she chuckled. “I just hope that we don’t end up writing all the wonder out of it.”

Across the hall, in the Team SAPR dorm room, Dove took a seat next to Jaune. “Thank you for having me,” he said stiffly, but then, Dove Bronzewing could be stiff about things in Jaune’s experience.

Which was… a little limited, Jaune had to admit. Considering that they had eaten opposite Team YRDN for a whole semester, Jaune knew very little about their recently departed teammate. Which wasn’t entirely his fault; Dove wasn’t loud enough to make himself heard over Yang and Nora, but with Ren around, he couldn’t be ‘the quiet one’ either.

But all the same, it made Jaune a little nervous having to work with the guy and even more nervous that he would soon be having training sessions with him.

That nervousness, or getting over it, was probably the point of Doctor Oobleck setting them this exercise. If they were going to be huntsmen, they were going to have to be able to work with all kinds of people and not be prissy about it.

“Don’t mention it,” Jaune said, trying to sound at ease. “We have to work somewhere, right? Besides, I should be thanking you for agreeing to become my sparring partner.”

Dove laughed. “You don’t need to be dating Pyrrha to know that Lyra’s getting much more out of this deal than you are.”

“To a point,” Jaune said, “but Pyrrha thinks it will be good for me, and I trust her.”

“She thinks it will be good for you to beat me,” Dove said. “I hope you don’t mind if I don’t make it easy for you.”

“Of course not,” Jaune replied rapidly. “I’m not… I don’t want victories to stroke my ego. I want to get better so I can stand alongside Pyrrha and Ruby and Sunset. It’s just-”

“Hard to see how you’re making progress sometimes,” Dove finished for him. “Lyra complains about the same thing. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that sparring with Pyrrha will help her very much in that.”

Jaune winced. “Probably not.” He hesitated. “I… maybe I could-”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea either,” Dove told him. “It’s generous to offer, but…”

Jaune frowned. “What? I’m not good enough?”

“That’s not what worries me,” Dove admitted. “You’ve been training with Pyrrha, and I’ve watched you in sparring class; you’re getting better. Considering that you started off worse than Lyra, I’m worried that if you were spar with her – and I admit I’m sort of dreading sparring class for this reason – and win, then… she’ll get discouraged.”

“I can get that,” Jaune murmured. When your dream seemed out of reach, when it seemed as though the mountain to climb was more of a sheer wall with no handholds, then it was very easy to give up hope and give up trying too. If it hadn’t been for the support of Pyrrha – and Sunset giving him a bit of a kick up the ass when he needed it the most – then he would never have made it this far. “I got… really lucky, with my teammates. I got the most talented girl in the school to help me.”

“Mhmm,” Dove murmured. One eyebrow rose. “And not just to help you, right?”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Right. I got lucky there, too.”

Dove nodded. “Don’t waste it.”

“Huh?”

Dove’s face became sad, the corners of his mouth descending, his brow furrowing, his head falling forwards a little bit. “Don’t… you’re serious about her, right?”

Jaune thought about it for a moment. “I… I can’t imagine what I’d do without her.”

Dove’s smile was melancholy, touched by frost. “Then hold tight to her,” he said, “and don’t let her go. If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Jaune didn’t know what to say to that; Dove certainly seemed to be speaking from personal experience here, but that didn’t help Jaune decide what to do about it; he didn’t know Dove well enough to know how he was supposed to react.

Does it matter? If he needs help, then he needs help, no matter who he is. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Dove shook his head. “No, I’d rather… we should get to work; that’s what we’re here to do.”

“Sure,” Jaune said. “But you know, if… but yeah. So… any ideas?”

Dove half rose out of his seat so that he could get a better look at the bookshelves. “I can’t see The Song of Olivia anywhere around here,” he said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Ruby took it with her,” Jaune explained.

“Ah.”

“Were you thinking of doing our report on it?” Jaune asked, slightly nervously.

“Why not?” Dove replied. “I have read it about fifteen times. I remember most of the important bits.”

“I haven’t read it at all,” Jaune said, “so I’m a little worried that there’s not much I’d be able to contribute.”

“That’s a fair point,” Dove muttered. “I suppose I’m just one of those people who tries to do all the work themselves. Ruby enjoys it, then?”

“Oh, yeah, she loves it,” Jaune assured him. “That was a great gift you gave her. Especially when you didn’t have to.”

“Hmm?”

“Come on,” Jaune said. “Everyone knows that it was Lyra and Bon Bon who spilled everything about Sunset and Pyrrha having it out, and you covered for them when you didn’t have to.”

“Were they angry?”

“Sunset was… a little annoyed,” Jaune conceded.

“Then I had every reason to cover for them,” Dove declared. “Huntsmen are supposed to stand between danger and-”

“And those who can’t protect themselves, believe me, I get it,” Jaune interrupted, “but Lyra and Bon Bon are training to be huntresses as well; they don’t need your protection. I want to stand alongside Pyrrha and Ruby and Sunset, but I would never say that I want to stand in front of them.”

“My grandfather taught me to protect women.”

“I grew up with seven sisters; if I’d suggested that they needed protection, they would have killed me,” Jaune replied.

“Fair enough,” Dove muttered. “I mean, obviously I know that girls like Yang and Nora don’t need someone like me to keep them safe, but not every girl is Yang or Nora.”

“And not every guy is you or Ren or even me,” Jaune said. “I’m not sure the grimm care about chivalry. I want to become a huntsman so I can protect everyone.”

“So do I. I just…” Dove trailed off, groaning as he ran his hands through his golden-brown birds nest atop his head. “I just… something about Lyra – and Bon Bon too – it… I want to keep them safe.”

“Is that why you transferred onto their team?”

“They needed a fourth man,” Dove insisted. “Some teams can manage with three; other teams… Lyra is a natural support, if only she could admit it, but that leaves them with only two people on the front line, and Bon Bon and Sky… I know that I’m not the greatest student in the year, but I’m the best on offer for them, and I want to be there for them, if I can.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Jaune told him.

“You’re friends with Blake,” Dove reminded him. “I know that they haven’t exactly treated Blake well, and I didn’t want her to think that I… it’s nothing to do with her.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “And so does Blake.”

“Good,” Dove said. “Good, because I… I wouldn’t want her to think that I… I know that Sunset thought that I… how did you do it?”

Jaune frowned. “Do what?”

“You came from a small town, right? The same as me?”

Jaune nodded. “Yeah.”

“So how were you not weirded out by the faunus?” Dove asked. “When I arrived here, I’d never seen anything like them; it was… weird. Sure, I stared, and it probably didn’t make them feel good, but come on, I was seeing something strange; I’m not Cardin! So how did you… not do that?”

“I…” Jaune shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t say I’d ever seen any faunus before I left home either, but… I don’t know.”

“Thanks, that’s a big help.”

“Sorry.”

“One more question and then we can get down to work,” Dove promised. “How do you… your semblance, it boosts other people’s aura.”

“Right.”

“So you support your teammates?”

“Right again.”

“How do you deal with it?” Dove asked. “Don’t you want to be the hero?”

Jaune leaned on the desk. “Why do you ask?”

“Lyra’s semblance is similar, in some ways,” Dove explained. “She can use her music to boost the abilities of those around her. I tell her that she ought to focus on that, on using her semblance to strengthen the team, Bon Bon tells her the same thing, but she doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to be out in front, striking down monsters. She’d rather use the sword she struggles with than the harp she excels with. I don’t know how to open up her eyes, and I was hoping that you might… I was hoping you could tell me how you got over it.”

“Gradually, by degrees,” Jaune told him. “Sure, I wanted to be the hero when I first came to Beacon. Is there anyone who comes to Beacon who doesn’t want to be the hero?”

“Nora,” Dove told him. “She’d happily stand in Ren’s shadow for the rest of her life, I think, as long as she could watch him shine.” He paused. “Of course, the irony is that she’s a lot more talented than he is.”

“You think so?” Jaune asked. “Ren always struck me as really determined.”

“He is, but that doesn’t mean that he can do much with it,” Dove replied. “I’m not saying he’s bad, but Nora has him beat by just about any measure, and I say that with the admission that she has me beat too. But anyway, how did you do it?”

Jaune shrugged. “I… saw some stuff,” he said. “I realised that this wasn’t a game, that there were lives at stake – the lives of my friends, the lives we fight to protect – and I realised that I needed to stop worrying about glory and what people thought of me and focus on doing the best I could, however I could. But saying it like that makes it seem like I’m all over it; there are times when… when I still get a little jealous that the thing I’m best at it is making other people stronger.”

“It takes sun and rain to get a harvest,” Dove reminded him.

“I know, I grew up on a farm too,” Jaune told him, “but nobody wants to be the raincloud. I… don’t know how to help with Lyra.”

“It’s not your job to help me with my problems,” Dove said. “But thanks for trying.” He clasped his hands together. “Now, if you don’t want to study The Song of Olivia, then what do you want to write about?”

“The Song of Olivia, huh?” Rainbow inquired, as she looked down at the antique volume on the table in front of her. “What’s that about?”

“It’s so disappointing that more people haven’t heard of this,” Ruby said softly. She and Rainbow Dash were sat in the library, and she guessed that it wasn’t a coincidence that they were sat in a position that let them – that let Rainbow Dash – keep an eye on both Penny where she was working with Cardin and Twilight where she was working with Neptune.

Ruby didn’t blame Rainbow for setting things up that way – and it wasn’t just Rainbow either; on the balcony above, Ruby could see Ciel and Yang with a good view of everything and everyone beneath them – because to be honest, she was a little worried about Penny and Cardin herself. Not just, or not even, because Penny was a robot, but because Penny was a sweet, kind, innocent girl with a good heart, and Cardin was, well, Cardin.

Ruby didn’t want to see Penny get hurt even more than Rainbow did.

She wondered if Cardin realised how many people he would have to answer to if he did upset Penny in any way.

On the other hand, there didn’t seem to be much to worry about when it came to Twilight and Neptune. They were too far away for Ruby to hear what Neptune had just said, but it had put Twilight in stitches; she was covering her mouth demurely as he giggled, her eyes closed and her body shaking.

“Ugh,” grunted Rainbow.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby asked.

“Nothing,” Rainbow said quickly. “I just… you can keep a secret, right?”

“I’m keeping a few already, so you’d better hope so,” Ruby said with a slight smile.

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, I guess that’s about the sum of it, isn’t it? The truth is… now, you can’t tell Twilight this, but the truth is…” She leaned down and sideways so that her head was almost touching that of Ruby's sat beside her. “The truth is that I’ve never liked any of Twilight’s boyfriends. Every time she goes out with a guy, I have to pretend to like him, and it’s really hard sometimes.”

Ruby frowned. “But Twilight and Neptune aren’t going out; they’re just-”

“Give it a minute; he’ll ask her out by the time this coursework is done,” Rainbow assured her.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Everyone asks Twilight out,” Rainbow replied. “Everybody’s into her, and she always gives them a chance, even though none of them deserve her-”

“What about Flash?” Ruby asked.

“Flash… okay, she didn’t give Flash a chance,” Rainbow allowed. “But to be honest, I think she might have if it hadn’t been so obvious that he was just latching onto the first girl to be nice to him after he broke up with Sunset.”

“You make it sound like breaking up with Sunset hurt him,” Ruby said, “but it was him who broke up with her, wasn’t it?”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “What’s Sunset told you about that?”

“Nothing,” Ruby confessed. “She doesn’t talk about it at all; that’s how I know it really hurt.”

“Because Sunset likes to talk, huh?”

Ruby grinned. “Kind of, in a nice way.”

Rainbow snorted. “That’s… well, you’re not wrong, but… look, just because Flash was the one who ended it doesn’t mean that he got away without any scars. Dude was a mess, Twilight helped put him back together – we all helped, but Twilight did most of it because, well, she’s Twilight – and he… well he thought that… anyway, my point is that if he’d waited a year and then asked her out, she might have gone on a date with him because she gives these guys a chance more often than not, and I just don’t get it.”

Ruby shrugged. “What’s there to get?”

“The fact that they’re all losers,” Rainbow said. “Just like that guy over there, the only thing they have going on is that they’re cute; none of them deserve Twilight.”

“A lot of people would say that Jaune doesn’t deserve Pyrrha,” Ruby pointed out.

“And a lot of people would be right, what’s he got going on?” Rainbow asked.

“Don’t you dare say that again!” Ruby snapped, so loudly that she caught Yang looking down on her out of the corner of her eye. “Jaune may not be cool or confident; he isn’t charming like a storybook prince or suave like some movie star, but he’s sweet and kind, and he’s got a good heart and a big one too. He’s never mean, and he never sets out to hurt anyone, and he’s always there for his friends, and-”

“And you like him, don’t you?”

“No,” Ruby said quickly. “Why would you say something like that?”

Rainbow sniggered. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I don’t have a secret like that,” Ruby muttered petulantly.

“And if it helps, I won’t say another word against him,” Rainbow said. “He’s not a bad guy, I get it. I just… you’re right, it takes all kinds, and the heart wants what the heart wants and all that stuff. I guess that’s why Rarity and Applejack and the others never had a problem with any of Twilight’s guys.” She ran one hand through her multi-coloured hair. “Anyway, we should get back to it.” Rather than get back to it, however, she instead looked across the library to the backs of Cardin and Penny. “How do you think they’re doing?”

Ruby stared at the pair of them. It was hard to tell what was happening, but it seemed to be going okay. Penny was being quiet, which was a bit unusual, but that might be because Ciel had impressed on her that libraries were supposed to be quiet.

That seemed like the sort of thing Ciel Soleil would do.

“They seem fine,” she ventured.

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured. “So,” she added, tapping one finger upon Ruby’s treasured copy of The Song of Olivia, “what’s this about, and why should I let you choose a book I’ve never read for our essay topic?”

“Because it’s great!” Ruby cried. “It’s got so much going on in it! And you don’t need to read it. I’ve read it, and I can give you all the details. I can tell you what happens, and then you can tell me what you think, okay?”

Rainbow hesitated a moment before she nodded her head. “Okay.”

“Right,” Ruby said. “So, there’s this shepherdess named Olivia, right? And she watches sheep for her father hundreds of years ago, when Vale was still being founded and there were little kingdoms up and down the coast. Anyway, Olivia watches sheep for her father, but she dreams of becoming something way more than that, a knight in the service of the King, battling the creatures of grimm on behalf of all mankind.”

“Like a huntress?”

“Exactly like a huntress, only they didn’t call them huntresses then,” Ruby explained. “Anyway, when one of her sheep goes missing, Olivia follows its trail into the grimm infested forest, where she is attacked by a beowolf-”

“Does she kill it?” Rainbow asked.

“No,” Ruby admitted. “She’s saved by the wizard Osfred and his apprentice Nimue. They kill the beowolf, but the wizard sees that Olivia has a good and valiant heart, and so Nimue unlocks her aura while Osfred arms her with a magic sword, Durandal, and an enchanted shield, Svalinn, which she uses to slay the ursa major she finds menacing her lost lamb. When Olivia comes out of the woods with the lamb, she tells her father she will be a shepherdess no longer and leaves home to pursue her dream of-”

“Of becoming a shepherdess.” Rainbow interrupted.

Ruby stifled a chuckle. “I’ve sometimes thought that too.”

“You were the one who said that she wanted to be basically a huntress,” Rainbow pointed out. “That’s what we are, we’re-”

“Shepherds of the people?” Ruby ventured.

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s something Pyrrha says.”

“I was going to say sheepdogs, but what you said works too,” Rainbow allowed. “Except that a shepherd won’t bite your face off if you look at the flock funny.”

“To be fair, neither will huntsmen,” Ruby replied.

“True, we’ll blow their faces off instead,” Rainbow said. “It does seem like a pretty cool story so far, except why does she need to get a magic shield and an enchanted sword to strike out and follow her dreams?”

Ruby grinned. “Sunset asked that when Pyrrha was reading it out to us.”

“Good for her,” Rainbow muttered. “What’s the answer?”

“Pyrrha said it was a metaphor,” Ruby explained. “She said it’s symbolic of her being found worthy by… by higher powers, by fate, or just by the world. Although, to be honest, I think she proved herself worthy when she went into the forest to rescue that lamb even though she knew there were grimm around.”

Rainbow nodded. “So what do you think?”

“I think… I think it’s just about the fact that sometimes we need a little help to get us started,” Ruby said. “I always wanted to be a huntress, but for a while, it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t coordinated; I couldn’t use any weapon they tried to set me up with at Combat School; I was a total mess. Then my Uncle Qrow took me under his wing, and suddenly, I was top of the class and stopping robberies and getting invited to Beacon early and… and I owe it all to him.”

“Like I owe everything to Twilight,” Rainbow agreed. “Without her… I mean, I could sit here and talk myself up, but the truth is that Twilight built my wings, and General Ironwood gave me the chance to fly, so… so I guess they’re my wizard and his apprentice, huh?”

“I guess,” Ruby agreed. “I had a feeling you’d like this story.”

“You did?” Rainbow asked. “Why?”

“Because it’s not only about dreams, but about duty too,” Ruby said. “Once Olivia arrives at the court, she becomes a knight in the service of the king, and from then on… well, she doesn’t really get to set the rules for herself. Ever. She falls in love with the prince, but they can’t be together.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s the prince, and she’s a shepherd.”

“But she’s also a knight by then, right?”

“She becomes a knight, sure, but a knight who used to be a shepherd,” Ruby explained. “And I guess that meant a lot back in the old days. Anyway, even though they’re in love, the king orders his son to marry a princess to join their two kingdoms together without a war, and… and he does, because even though it’s not what they’re hearts desire, it is the right thing to do, and because if he breaks his betrothal, they’ll be at war, and people will die, and… and it’s not worth it just so they can be happy.”

“So what does she do?” Rainbow asked. “When the man she loves marries someone else?”

“Her duty,” Ruby replied. “She goes where she is ordered to go and fights grimm and robber knights and any evildoer she comes across. She goes where her king sends her and fights his battles and leads his armies.”

“That doesn’t sound much like a huntress,” Rainbow said. “That sounds more like an Atlesian specialist to me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, you didn’t notice that?” Rainbow asked. “She doesn’t decide her own jobs; she gets given them by her boss. She serves in his army, at the forefront of the battle. That’s what we do; that’s what I’m training to be; the only difference is that it’s a general instead of a king.” She paused. “A general who is kingly, but he doesn’t have a crown.”

Ruby frowned. She couldn’t help but think that the Atlesians – not only Rainbow Dash but Ciel too – put rather too much faith in General Ironwood. She hadn’t met the man, so she couldn’t really say, but she found it hard to believe that he could possibly be as noble and wise and all other things as they seemed to think. She didn’t really understand where Sunset was coming from with her distrust of Professor Ozpin, but she thought it might be healthier than the unabashed worship that General Ironwood enjoyed from those who served him. She wondered if he encouraged it, if it made him feel big to have everyone look up to him.

She kept these thoughts to herself; she sensed that they would not be welcome.

“Are you okay with that?” she asked. “Giving up what you want, your dreams and your desires, to become an instrument of someone else’s will?”

Rainbow’s answer was a short sharp nod. “Someone has to look at the big picture,” she said. “Someone has to see the whole board and see how to get everybody moving in the same direction for the greater good. A pawn can’t see that; we don’t have the height for it. We might think that we’re doing the right thing rushing to fight a fire in one place, only to find out that that fire was a distraction from the inferno that was about to start behind us. That’s why we need the General to look at everything that’s going on, decide what needs to be done, and then have us do it.”

“But what if he gets it wrong?” Ruby replied. “What if… what if he turned evil?”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “General Ironwood isn’t going to turn evil, and why would you even ask something like that?”

“Because he’s just a man; just because he can see the big picture doesn’t mean that he can’t make mistakes.”

“So can I,” Rainbow replied. “So can any of us. We trust the General to make the right call, just like he trusts us to pull it out of the bag when the jaws slam shut. It doesn’t mean he’ll always get it right, and it doesn’t mean we’ll always win; it just means he’ll always do what he thinks is right, and we’ll always give it our best shot and come out swinging.”

“But what if you don’t agree with him?” Ruby demanded. “What if you think he’s wrong about something?”

Rainbow nodded towards the book. “Does Olivia ever think that the king is wrong about something?”

“A couple of times, yeah.”

“And what does she do about it?”

“When she’s young, she rides off and does what she believes is best,” Ruby explained. “The next time, when she’s a little older, she meets with the king – who was the prince she was in love with – and persuades him to change his mind.”

“And that’s what we do,” Rainbow told her. “We ask him to change his mind; maybe we even beg if that doesn’t work. I wasn’t supposed to bring Penny to Vale – she decided to do that all by herself – but when I decided that her being here was the right thing to do, I didn’t break my scroll and write General Ironwood a ‘screw you’ letter. I persuaded him to let Penny stay.”

“And if he’d still said no?” Ruby demanded.

Rainbow’s jaw tightened. “Then I would have hoped that he knew what he was doing.”

“Why should he know what he’s doing more than you?”

“Because he’s older than I am and because a lot of good, important people trust him to know what he’s doing,” Rainbow replied. “Because I’ve seen him make the right call. Because sticking together and following orders is how we win.”

“We win by doing what’s right and saving everyone we can,” Ruby insisted. “The fact that Olivia never gets to choose her own missions is one of the things that disappointed me about this story once I got to read it. She saves so many innocents and slays so many monsters, but the summaries all made it sound like she was much more… that she got to decide much more where she went and who she fought.”

“You won’t be transferring to Atlas any time soon then?” Rainbow asked cheekily.

Ruby shook her head. “You know Sunset would actually kill you if she heard you suggest that.”

“I’m not scared of Sunset Shimmer,” Rainbow said lightly. “She can give it her best shot if she likes.”

“But seriously… I could never give up that much the way you have to to become Specialists in Atlas. I could never let someone else dictate what battles I fought or whether I fought at all.”

“You couldn’t trust anyone that much?”

“It’s not about trust; it’s about…” Ruby trailed off. Maybe it was about trust, or maybe she just didn’t know how to say it. “It’s about what we’re fighting for. It’s about who we’re fighting for. I’m fighting for all of humanity-“

“I’m not just fighting for General Ironwood,” Rainbow replied. “I fight for my friends, for my-”

“If General Ironwood ordered you to abandon your friends to die, would you?” Ruby asked.

Rainbow fell silent. She clenched her jaw. “I… you know that I’m repeating First Year, right?”

Ruby nodded. “I know you’re eighteen, yeah.”

Rainbow glanced away from her. “I… my old team, Team Raspberry, we were on a field mission. Not all first-year students get those in Atlas, but the General trusted me, so off we went. Me, Applejack, Pinkie’s sister Maud, and Spearhead. The mission was to clear out a nest of sabyrs, search and destroy. Only, there turned out to be more sabyrs than we’d been expecting. A lot more. Spearhead’s aura broke, one of the grimm took his arm off, so I left Applejack and Maud holding a defensive position while I carried him back to the Skyray. The professor remotely supervising the mission told me to bug out, abandon Applejack and Maud and get Spearhead to medical.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “I patched Spearhead up to stop the bleeding, and then I left him a gun and went back for my teammates.” She hesitated. “But that guy was an ass, and he got fired. General Ironwood would never order me to do something like that.”

“But what if he did?”

“He wouldn’t!”

“But what if he did?” Ruby repeated.

Rainbow Dash did not reply. Not for a moment at least. Her brow furrowed. At last, she spoke, “When Olivia gets given the orders she doesn’t like the second time, why doesn’t she just ride off the way she did the first time?”

Ruby shrugged. “Because she’s older?”

Rainbow shook her head. “That’s not it. Well, it might not be part of it, but it’s not the main thing. The main thing is that she’s served her king for years by that point, right?”

Ruby nodded. “Most of her life.”

“And she’s eaten in his hall and all that old-time stuff?” Rainbow asked. “She doesn’t just love him anymore, she knows him, and because she knows him so well, she can trust him, even if he isn’t making the same decision she would have made. And it’s the same way with me and General Ironwood. I’ve known him since I was a kid, he’s who taught me most of what I know, I’ve been to his house. I… I know his heart, the same way that Olivia knew her king. And I know it’s a good heart, the kind of heart that wouldn’t… I know him, and because I know him, I can trust him, without any reservations.”

“I guess I’m just not willing to risk it,” Ruby said softly. “That’s just… that’s just not how I see my duty lying.”

Yang, only somewhat reluctantly, turned her gaze away from looking down on her little sister from the upper gallery and focussed her attention upon her partner for this project.

Ciel Soleil. She was… to be honest, if uncharitable, she was kind of what you expected an Atlas student to be like: the manners of a robot and the personality of a brick wall.

Okay, that was more than a little unkind, and maybe it was just the fact that Yang didn’t know her that well, and she was really a total hoot at parties… but she couldn’t help but remember some of the things that Uncle Qrow had to say about the Atlesians and their commander when he got going. Stick up the butt didn’t even begin to cover it. Sure, he’d probably been joking when he said that he’d disown either of his nieces who even thought about going to the northern academy… but he probably hadn’t been completely joking.

And this assignment was going to be hard enough even with a partner she could get along with.

To say that Yang wasn’t looking forward to this would be an understatement.

“So, hey,” Yang said, discomfort borne of nerves seeping into her voice. “So… yeah. I guess the first thing that we should do is choose a story to work on, right?”

Ciel had taken off her beret, placing it on the table in front of her. Now, she smoothed out her hair with both hands. “Indeed.”

Yang hesitated for a moment, waiting to see if – hoping that – more was forthcoming. It wasn’t. “So… any ideas?”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I… regret not,” she said. “I am afraid I have never had any great fondness for fairy stories.”

Yang sucked in the air between her teeth. “Me neither,” she confessed. “It’s not that I don’t like them; it’s just that… I used to read them to Ruby all the time when she was a kid, because she couldn’t get enough of them. Almost every night, before she’d got to bed, I used to read her a story or two; it was like she couldn’t sleep without one.”

“Or she would not,” Ciel suggested.

Yang snorted. “Yeah, maybe,” she agreed. “Ruby… Ruby loved those stories, but I just found that reading the same stories over and over again until I could recite them from memory… it kind of killed my enthusiasm, you know?”

“Indeed,” Ciel repeated. “It is much the same with me. Of my younger brothers, only Aurelien is truly devoted to such stories, but all of them were willing, at least, to listen to them. Like you, repetition and familiarity brought with them a degree of staleness.”

Yang found a faint smile coming to her face. “You have younger brothers?”

“Six.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “'Six'? Your mom has seven kids? Was that planned?”

“We have not discussed it,” Ciel replied, “but the Lady blessed her with so many children, and who is my mother to question such?”

Yang blinked. “'The Lady'?”

“The Lady of the North,” Ciel explained. “A hero of our land from times long, long ago, whose deeds were so tremendous that she was granted immortality and divine status upon her death and whose spirit has continued to protect the northland and guide its people from that day down to this.”

Yang leaned forward, her elbows resting upon the desk. “Sounds like a cool story; maybe we could-”

“No,” Ciel said flatly. “My faith is not just a story; it is revealed truth, and it will not be subjected to critical analysis as if it were simply another piece of literature. At least, not by me.”

Yang up one hand. “Sure thing, it was just an idea; I didn’t mean to offend you or nothing. I’ve just never met anyone religious before; I didn’t realise you’d take it so seriously.”

“I take more things seriously than not,” Ciel declared.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true, but I’m glad you said it, not me,” Yang said, a touch of amusement in her voice. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ciel said. “I know that you spoke from ignorance rather than malice.”

Yang was silent for a moment. “So… six little brothers, huh? And you the big sister of them all?”

“Indeed.”

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” Yang said. She couldn’t help but wonder, if Mom had stuck around, whether she and Dad would have had more. Her mind conjured the image of a host of little Rubies all running around and Yang herself desperately trying to keep hold of all of them. It might well have proven too much, even for her… but then, if Mom had stuck around, then she wouldn’t have had to do it all by herself, would she?

“It was an arduous task, at times,” Ciel admitted, “but by the time the younger children were born, the elder were old enough to provide me some assistance.”

Yang chuckled. “Yeah, I guess they didn’t all come at once, did they?” She paused. “How about your mom and dad, were they… I mean, are they-?”

“They are alive, thanks be to the Lady,” Ciel said, “but my father has spent his whole career about cruisers and carriers, and my mother went from being a dropship pilot to a flight instructor; as you may realise, those careers did not leave them as much time to be active in the lives of their children as would be ideal.”

“Meaning you were the one who had to walk them to and from school, make breakfast, make dinner, and put them to bed?” Yang guessed.

“From when I became old enough to do so,” Ciel replied. “Fortunately, Combat School was very accommodating of my circumstances.”

“But you still thanked God for after school clubs anyway, right?” Yang said, the fact that Ruby had somewhere she could hang around until Yang could come and pick her up at the end of her day had been a big boon in the couple of years until Ruby had gotten old enough to start at Combat School herself. “I mean, um-”

“I was grateful,” Ciel agreed, without making an issue of what Yang had just said. “Without them, and the support of my teachers, I would have been placed in a very difficult position.”

Yang nodded. “I’m really lucky with Ruby,” she said. “As much as I get a little worried about how much trouble she’s gotten into already, with her team – and yours – I’m really lucky that she got into Beacon early. It means I don’t have to worry about her being at home all by herself.”

“Your father?”

“Dad…” Yang trailed off. She didn’t really know Ciel well enough to point out that Dad had enough trouble taking care of himself, let alone his children. “Dad’s a teacher and a huntsman. Like you said, it doesn’t always give him as much time with us as he’d like.”

“Of course,” Ciel murmured. “As you say, you are fortunate to have your sister here… even if aspects of her learning experience leave you anxious.”

Yang chuckled. “You got that right. What about you, any of your brothers old enough to go to Combat School yet?”

“None of them wish to attend,” Ciel replied. “None of them wish to become huntsmen. Tyson has a great deal of mechanical aptitude and is considering enlisting in that capacity, but none of them seek to follow in my footsteps.”

“That’s gotta hurt.”

“Not particularly,” Ciel replied. “Those that are old enough to have their own plans and ambitions have them, and the fact that they diverge from my own… they know what they want, and I am glad of that. The fact that it is not what I want… why should that upset me?”

“I guess it shouldn’t, but you almost made it sound like they didn’t want it because it was what you did.”

“Then I misspoke and apologise for it,” Ciel said.

“It’s fine,” Yang said. “And, I mean, if Ruby wanted something else out of her life, I’d totally support that too.”

“My impression is that Ruby has never considered anything other than the path she is on,” Ciel declared.

Yang grinned. “Your impression is right, Ruby’s always been obsessed with this. Getting into Beacon, becoming a huntress, it’s all she’s ever wanted. I don’t think she’s ever wanted to be anything else, not even for a second.”

“And you?”

Yang shook her head. “Nah, my family was always too cool for me not to want to be just like them. You ever want to become a pilot like your mom?”

“I… I want to become an officer, the first in my family to do so,” Ciel declared.

“Oh, okay. Nothing wrong with ambition, I guess,” Yang replied. She hesitated. “You miss your brothers?”

“I will see them again, before the Vytal Festival begins,” Ciel said, “but, yes. I would need a much harder heart not to.” Her lips twitched. “For good or ill, the composition of my team means that I still feel like someone’s older sister.”

Yang snorffled as she glanced down over the balcony to where Penny was sitting beneath them. “Well, now that you mention it… I guess, at least you’ve got experience.”

“Indeed,” Ciel agreed. “And if my comment seemed unhappy, that was not my intent. Penny is… wonderful,” she said, after a moment. “It is my privilege to help and guide her, as best I can.”

Yang couldn’t help but wonder why it was that Penny needed to be helped and guided that way, but she didn’t ask. It wasn’t her place to ask, and if the answer turned out to be some kind of mental condition, then she’d feel like a jackass for bringing it up. Penny might be a little odd, but she was sweet and kind, and she was Ruby’s friend, and that was good enough for Yang.

She didn’t need to know any more than that.

“We should probably pick a story, shouldn’t we?” she said.

“Yes,” Ciel said. “We probably should.”

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“You can’t think of anything, can you?” Yang asked.

“No.”

“Hello, Cardin Winchester!” Penny said brightly. “I’m excited to begin working with you.”

“Hmm,” Cardin murmured. This Penny girl was, not to put too fine a point on it, weird. It was Cardin Winchester’s opinion that the Atlesians were an odd bunch in general; either they acted like robots, or else they didn’t seem to have an ‘off’ switch anywhere, and that was without getting into all of their cultural issues, but even taking that into account, Penny Polendina was weird. She acted like more of a kid than Ruby Rose, who actually was a kid, and a particularly sickly sweet kid at that. Skystar’s cousins, who were actual kids, acted more grown up than Penny did. It was strange, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

To say that he wasn’t looking forward to this was… about accurate, actually. He was aware that he could have gotten much worse partners – Sunset, Blake, Jaune – but at the same time, he could have gotten much better partners too. Like Penny’s team leader, who might be a faunus – why she had been made team leader, he didn’t know; he’d been given to understand that for all their faults, Atlas at least knew where faunus stood in the pecking order – but knew her place. Penny… how was he supposed to work with Penny?

He would have to find some way to work with her, because his grades were kind of below average at the moment, and while that wasn’t his fault – the teachers showed favouritism to the likes of Sunset Shimmer and Blake Belladonna even though they were only faunus – knowing that didn’t actually push his grades up at all.

His parents were already disappointed by his performance so far, and deaf to his excuses besides, which meant that he needed to take this chance to pull his grades up a little in order to at least show some potential for improvement.

Either that or find some way to distinguish himself in the field during training missions, but there was no guarantee that they would get the kind of mission that would let him show what he could do. In terms of field assignments too, Team WWSR was labouring under the cloud of noxious favouritism shown by the faculty: Team YRDN had gotten a mission in their first week at Beacon, while Team SAPR had been assigned a mission without even needing a professional huntsman to supervise them, in the course of which mission they had captured Roman Torchwick!

His parents didn’t want to hear it, but to Cardin, it was undeniable that Team SAPR were Professor Ozpin’s favourites, and while it was true that a team with Pyrrha Nikos on it was always going to attract attention, that didn’t change the fact that it was a team led by a faunus and including a deadweight like Jaune Arc on it. Team WWSR had a Winchester and a Schnee on it, and they couldn’t seem to get any attention at all!

What was the world coming to when money couldn’t buy you success any more?

“Let’s… let’s just get on with it shall we?” he muttered.

Penny smiled. “I was hoping we could do our project on The Shallow Sea.”

“The Shallow- no!” Cardin growled. “We are not writing our report on some faunus garbage.”

Penny leaned back in her seat, leaning away from him. “What’s wrong with the faunus?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Cardin demanded.

“Yes,” Penny said. “That’s why I asked.”

Cardin’s mouth hung open catching flies for a moment before he rallied to say, “Well… everyone knows that they’re just a bunch of animals who-”

“I don’t think everyone does know that,” Penny replied. “Ruby doesn’t seem to know that, and neither does Pyrrha, considering that they don’t treat Sunset or Blake like an animal that I’ve noticed. And then there’s Jaune, and Ciel, who obeys my team leader Rainbow Dash without-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you don’t have to list everyone you know who-”

“Who proves you wrong when you say everyone knows that faunus are animals?” Penny suggested.

Cardin narrowed his eyes at her. “You’ve got kind of a smart mouth on you, you know that?”

“Really?” Penny replied. “Thank you, Cardin.”

Cardin groaned. He rubbed the gap between his eyebrows as he felt a headache coming on. He wasn’t blind to the fact that he was under observation by two out of three members of Penny’s team – Twilight Sparkle seemed engrossed – and so there was nothing he could really do right now. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Did Sunset Shimmer put you up to this?”

Penny blinked. “Put me up to what?”

“All of… all of this!” Cardin declared, gesturing up and down.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

Cardin clenched his hands into fists. “You know what? Fine! We’ll do The Shallow Sea if it’ll get you off my back about this. What’s so great about it anyway? Even the faunus don’t believe this garbage.”

“I think it’s pretty,” Penny said quietly.

Cardin frowned. “'Pretty'? Pretty how?”

“Blake says it’s about being seen for who you really are,” Penny said.

Cardin wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was Penny not being herself? How much more herself could she possibly get? The funny thing was, though, that that wasn’t the first time he had heard that explanation. He’d overheard Silverstream saying the same thing to Terramar once, when he’d come over when Skystar was babysitting her cousins.

So maybe there was something in it, even if he didn’t get why that seemed to hold an attraction for Penny Polendina.

“Maybe it is,” Cardin muttered. “But being seen for who you really are isn’t always all that it’s cracked up to be.” He seemed to get along much better with people who didn’t know who he really was – like Skystar – than he did with people who did. He often thought that he might have had a much better time here at Beacon if he had done what he did with Skystar and hidden away certain parts of himself that some people seemed to find… unappealing.

“You mean like those faunus children who don’t know that you hate them?” Penny asked.

“How do you- oh, right, you were there,” Cardin muttered. Of course she’d been there. They’d all been there. It was a miracle that his secret had held for so long. “I don’t hate Silverstream and Terramar.”

“But you said that faunus were-”

“I know what I said, and it doesn’t… there are exceptions to every rule, okay?” Cardin declared. “Like grammar or something. Silverstream and Terramar are okay.”

Penny blinked. “So you hate all faunus… except for the faunus whom you like?”

“Ye- no! I don’t… it doesn’t… some of them are alright, and some of them are ass.”

“Isn’t it the same with people?”

“They’re terrorists!” Cardin snapped.

“Some of them are, and some of them aren’t.”

“Yeah, well, they… they look stupid,” Cardin said. “With their little animal ears and tails and stuff, and they walk around like they own the place, and… you wouldn’t understand.”

“No,” Penny said softly. “I don’t understand.” She was refreshingly silent for a moment before she had to open her mouth again. “Blake told me that people always hate the things that aren’t like them; Rainbow and Twilight told me that wasn’t true, but is that why you hate the faunus? Because they’re not like you? Is that why you don’t mind Silverstream and Terramar, because they are like you?”

“Why do you care?” Cardin demanded. “What does any of this matter to you?”

“Because I want to understand,” Penny said.

“Well, I don’t want to sit here explaining myself to you.”

“Is that because you can’t explain it?”

Cardin stared at her for a moment. A part of him very much wanted to pick her up and throw her across the library.

Another part of him thought that the reason he wanted this was because she was right.

Some of these faunus are real jackasses.

So is Jaune Arc.

I hate him too.

But not because he’s a faunus.

So maybe I just hate assholes?

These faunus don’t belong here. They don’t have the right background.

But some of them do…

Cardin shook his head. What was he thinking? Why was he wasting time with this? This was giving him a headache.

Maybe the headache was trying to tell him something.

“Let’s just work, okay,” he grunted.

“Okay,” Penny agreed. “But thank you for talking.”

“Let’s get on with it,” Cardin growled.

He tried to get on with it, he tried to focus, he tried to get rid of everything that the odd Atlesian girl had said.

But try as he might, he just couldn’t get it out of his head.

Victim (New)

Victim

Sunset and Cinder had just left A & P – in fact the door had just shut behind them – when their attention was arrested by a cry of anger from just a little down the street.

“How dare you speak to me, you stinking wretch!” the angry shout came from… it took Sunset a moment to remember her name: Phoebe, that was it, Phoebe Kommenos, the girl who had tried to hassle Pyrrha on the day the Atlas students had arrived at Beacon.

She was standing only a few feet away from them down the street, dressed in a red dress with a ruffled neckline – with white at the edges – that swooped downwards to expose the beginnings of her cleavage; the ruffled sleeves were short, exposing her arms to the summer sun. An emerald bracelet hung languidly from off her right wrist, while on her left arm, a bracelet of rubies or red diamonds – Sunset couldn’t tell the difference from sight – was clasped more tightly against her skin. Her hair was down, dangling down her back towards her waist. A goat faunus in an Atlas uniform, horns growing out of her forehead, followed behind her, and she was accompanied by a group of well-dressed young ladies, none of them without some golden bangle or sparkling necklace or pair of earrings peeking out from beneath their hair.

So much for the valour of the north.

It was not just the materialism on display here that prompted that thought from Sunset, but the fact that Phoebe’s angry cry had been directed towards the homeless fellow sitting not far away from the café, begging a few spare lien from passersby. Cinder had ignored him on their way in, but Sunset – who felt a kind of squirming embarrassment whenever she left someone like that empty-handed – had tossed him a couple of lien to ease her conscience and enjoy her coffee and ice cream with peace of mind.

Phoebe seemed to have taken his importuning as a personal affront. The man cringed before her anger as she glared down at him.

“Sorry, Madame,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I only need a few lien to help me-”

“You’re still speaking, insolent dog!” Phoebe snarled, and one hand – the emeralds upon it sparkling as they caught the sun – lashed out to strike him upon the side of the head, drawing a cry of pain. She turned to her ladies and laughed. “The nerve of him, to address me. I’m surprised that Vale allows such idle scum to litter its streets, harassing decent people like that.”

Sunset folded her arms. “The pride of Atlas,” she declared. “How fortunate this city is to have such stalwarts here to defend it from the evils of homelessness and destitution.”

Phoebe’s eyes – all their eyes – turned to Sunset. Her painted lips curled into a sneer. “Is there a problem?”

Sunset glanced down at the homeless man, curling up protectively into a ball, his hands raised to protect his face from further abuse. One of the Atlesian girls had grabbed his little mongrel dog and was holding the creature by the neck as it squirmed and wriggled in a futile effort to escape.

Ruby, Sunset was certain, would have fought for the man, would have demanded that they back off and leave him alone. Jaune would have done the same, but with a tremor in his voice as he did so, while Pyrrha would probably have asked them nicely, at first. All of them would have stood up for an innocent man in trouble, just like Ruby had stood up for that old shopkeeper against Torchwick and his goons on the night that Sunset and Ruby had first met.

It was what a true huntress ought to do.

But Sunset wasn’t Ruby, or Pyrrha, or even Jaune. She was Sunset Shimmer, and there were seven of them, and while she might win a fight, depending on how useless these vapid rich girls were, Sunset thought she knew who would get in trouble for starting a fight, and it probably wouldn’t be Miss Hoity-Toity over there.

Sunset didn’t look at the homeless man. “No,” she said. “There’s no problem here.”

Phoebe’s gaze slid off Sunset to the left. “Then what are you staring at?” she demanded.

She wasn’t talking to Sunset; she was talking to Cinder, who seemed – who was – frozen in place, staring at Phoebe with both her eyes wide. Those eyes, which seemed usually to smoulder like flame, seemed dimmer now, like dying embers cooling amidst the ashes of a burnt-out fire.

Cinder said nothing, though her mouth was half open; if there were words, they had stuck in her throat, held fast by some power greater than Cinder’s strength. Her hands shook. Her whole body trembled. She was rooted in place, and yet, she shook like a tree assailed by the storm.

She was scared. It took Sunset a moment to recognise it because it was so unlike Cinder to behave this way, but she was scared. Scared of… of Phoebe? What was there to be scared of? What was there in Phoebe Kommenos to make Cinder Fall blanch so?

One of Phoebe’s cronies, a willowy girl with curled pink hair, called out encouragement to Phoebe as the latter stalked towards them, her six-inch heels clicking upon the pavement. The tips of her hair, Sunset could see as she got closer, were blonde; that must be her natural colour showing through the dye.

She glowered as she advanced on Cinder. “I asked you,” she snarled, “what you were looking at.”

Cinder didn’t respond. She didn’t seem capable of responding. She looked as though she wanted to retreat but didn’t seem capable of that either. Miniature flames sparked at the tips of her fingers, before she clenched her hand into a fist to quench them. It was all that she seemed capable of doing.

“Well?” Phoebe demanded. “Say something? Are you some kind of moron? Or are you one of those deaf-mutes? I swear they’ll let anyone into the academies these days. Well?”

“That’s close enough,” Sunset growled, putting herself between Phoebe and Cinder. She had to look up into the face of the taller girl, made taller by her heels, but she didn’t show any fear. “In fact, that’s more than close enough. Back off.”

Phoebe glared down at her. “And who are you to tell me to do anything?”

“I’m Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset said. “Now back off.”

Phoebe was silent a moment. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re one of Pyrrha’s friends, aren’t you?”

“I’m Pyrrha’s team leader, as it happens,” Sunset said.

“Well Pyrrha’s not around to protect you now-”

“I don’t need Pyrrha’s protection,” Sunset snarled. “What I need is for you to get out of the faces of me and my friend and be somewhere else.”

“Uh, Phoebe?” ventured the same of her cronies who had spoken before, “perhaps we should go. That… that’s the pony from the video.”

The video? Oh, right, the fight with Pyrrha. Did people actually watch that? Cool. What was especially cool was the way in which, their attention having been drawn to who she was, the girls now seemed wary of her. A couple of them even looked frightened.

Phoebe’s eyes widened a little.

“That’s right,” Sunset muttered. “I’m the one. Of course, Pyrrha beat me in the end, but…” She held up her hand, showing the green glow that burned around it as a spear of magic formed in the air above her. “You’re not Pyrrha, are you?”

Phoebe stared down at Sunset for a moment, her face contorting through several different expressions of rage, her roughed lips scowling and snarling wordlessly, before she seemed to calm herself with a visible effort. She laughed, that laugh that was already becoming oh-so-annoying to Sunset. “Ohohohoho. I’m so sorry. I had no idea your girlfriend would have such a strong reaction to my presence. Don’t feel too bad, little girl; many people are intimidated by me.” She laughed again, turning upon her high heels. “And forgive me, sir, for my behaviour.”

The homeless man blinked rapidly, his ragged blanket shuffling around him as he straightened up a little. “It’s quite alright, madame, I-”

“Oh, please, I feel simply terrible. You must let me make it up to you somehow.”

“I just need a few lien-”

“I’m not talking about money,” Phoebe declared extravagantly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, into some fresh clothes. Ladies, help this poor man up and onto his feet. We’ll take some time out on the way to the salon to… do a good deed.”

Something was not right about this. As Sunset watched two of Phoebe’s girls pick the man up by his arms, holding him as though he were their captive and not someone they were going to help, she knew in her bones that something was wrong. This was not going to end well.

That was in front of her, but as Phoebe and the others dragged the man and his dog away, Sunset was aware that Cinder was behind her, still trembling, still rooted to the spot.

And so she turned away from Phoebe and the homeless man alike and focussed her attention upon Cinder as they took the man and his dog away.

“Cinder?” Sunset asked, her voice gently, barely more than a whisper. “Cinder, it’s okay.” She placed one hand upon Cinder’s shoulder and delicately reached out to take her hand. “It’s okay, she’s gone. I’m right here.” She slipped her fingers into Cinder’s open palm and began to close them.

Cinder jerked away, the fire in her eyes beginning to burn once more. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped, clenching both hands now and retreating from Sunset. Her glass slippers clinked upon the paving stones. She glanced away from Sunset, towards the abandoned blankets that the homeless man had left behind, the lien cards sitting in a decaying plastic cup, and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sunset, you didn’t deserve that, but… I don’t need… don’t touch me.”

Her chest rose and fell as she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself.

Sunset followed at a discreet distance, leaving a couple of steps between Cinder and herself. “I’ve never seen you like that before,” she said.

“And you won’t see it again,” Cinder declared. “I wasn’t… prepared.”

Sunset frowned. “Do you know her?”

“Your company is welcome, Sunset, but your questions about my past are not.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” Sunset replied. “Is… is there anything that I can do?”

“No,” Cinder said as her hands fell down to her sides. “Because I need no help from anyone. I’m fine.”

“You didn’t seem fine a moment ago,” Sunset pointed out.

“Well, I am,” Cinder barked. She took a deep breath, and a sigh escaped. “You realise… I’m fine.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “You know that you can tell me the truth, right? You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Cinder laughed bitterly, “Why not, because we’ve known each other for such a very long time?”

“Because we’re friends,” Sunset said, “and friends can be honest with one another.”

“'Friends,'” Cinder murmured. “Are we friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I suppose we are.” She fell silent, speaking again only as she glanced over her shoulder. “I… you won’t tell anyone about this, will you? It would do no good at all for my reputation.”

Sunset grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Cinder drawled, and when she turned back to face Sunset, her expression was once more composed, much more what Sunset expected of Cinder than what she’d been shown not too long ago. “Oh, and by the way, it slipped my mind before, but Emerald was able to find out who graffitied that awful symbol on your door.”

Sunset raised her eyebrows. “It slipped your mind?”

Cinder nodded silently.

Sunset rolled her eyes. Of all the things to ‘slip your mind,’ honestly. “Well, go on, don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Bon Bon,” Cinder said.

Sunset stared at her, silently, processing the two little words that had just popped daintily out of Cinder’s mouth. “Bon Bon?”

“Indeed,” Cinder said. “A little surprising, no? I thought it would be that Cardin boy.”

“So did I,” Sunset muttered. He must be scared of losing his relationship. “You’re sure it was Bon Bon?”

“Emerald has ways of getting the truth,” Cinder assured her, “and she would never dare lie to me.”

Sunset’s jaw clenched. She felt a fire rising up inside of her, brighter than the flames which burned in Cinder’s eyes. “Little…” She bit back something unsuitable for genteel company like Cinder. “I’ll have her guts for this, you see if I don’t.”

The nerve of that girl! Who did she think she was? What right did she have to look down on Blake, to treat her like that, to treat Sunset like that? She had defaced the wrong door, Sunset thought as she turned away from Cinder and began to stomp off in the direction of the skydock. She had messed with the wrong team leader. She might think that Sunset had become tame and timid, well, she thought wrong! Just because Sunset’s track record for revenge wasn’t brilliant, just because her schemes had blown up in her face at Canterlot didn’t mean that she could tweak Sunset’s nose with impunity, certainly not by dragging Blake through the mud and bringing up her association with the White Fang! The nerve of it!

Cinder caught up with her, Cinder’s glass slippers clinking rapidly as she jogged to draw level with the shorter girl. “So, I ask you again the same question that I asked the day after Blake’s arrest: what are you going to do about it?”

“I know what I’d like to do about it,” Sunset growled.

Cinder waited a moment. “Well, go on, don’t leave me in suspense,” she repeated.

Sunset’s pace slowed. “Let me rephrase,” she said, “I know what I would like to do, but I don’t know if I have the skill to pull it off.”

“There’s a skill that you don’t possess? I’m astonished.”

Sunset glared at her. Cinder smirked.

“Come on,” she said. “You’ve seen me as no one else at Beacon has ever seen me. The least you can do is share your plans for revenge with me. I might even be able to help.”

“You might not want to get caught up in this if it goes badly.”

“If you let me help, it won’t go badly,” Cinder said.

Sunset hesitated for a moment, walking along the streets with Cinder beside her. “What I would like to do,” she confessed, “is get into her scroll and air her dirty laundry to the whole school. But I’d never get away with it.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I didn’t get away with it the last time I tried something similar,” Sunset said sharply. “If only Twilight wasn’t here, but…”

“This sounds like a fascinating story.”

Sunset glanced at her.

“Once again, I remind you that you have seen another side of me,” Cinder said. “I can’t help but feel that entitles me to a little… compensation from you.”

There was a certain logic to that, a certain fairness that Sunset had to concede. “Okay,” she said, with a slight trace of a huff in her voice. “I’ll tell you.

“I arrived at Canterlot Combat School as a young m- girl,” Sunset explained. “Young, but not naïve. Not any more. That had been knocked out of me by…” By the world in which I found myself. “By the nature of Atlesian society.”

“Say no more,” Cinder said. She paused. “Except do, because you haven’t really said anything.”

Sunset grinned, shaking her head as her tail swept from side to side behind her, curled up a little at the tip so that it didn’t touch the ground. “My naiveté had been driven out of me by Atlas,” she repeated, “but my ambition had not. I arrived at Canterlot Combat School determined that I would triumph over all the prejudices that confronted me and establish my ascendancy over the whole school. No matter who I had to step on to do it.”

Cinder smirked. “I wish I could have known you then. You sound a lot of fun.”

“Are you saying that I’m not fun now?”

“I can’t imagine you being willing to step on just anybody to get to the top now.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve realised that you can get further sometimes by stepping with people rather than on them.”

“Perhaps,” Cinder conceded. “Not always as amusing, though.”

“Do I need to be worried about a knife in my back?”

“Oh, no,” Cinder said quickly. “If I stab you, Sunset, it will be in the front, I promise.”

Sunset stared at her out of the corner of her eyes, silent for a moment, before a snort exited through her nostrils. “Thank you, for your honesty.”

“Thank you for appreciating my candour,” Cinder replied. “We’re friends, but let’s not forget that we’re also rivals at the end of the day. And if I find myself facing you across the Amity Colosseum, then don’t expect me to hold back on account of our friendship.”

“Right back at you,” Sunset replied. “Although if you want to make it to the one-on-ones, you should hope that you don’t run into me in the Amity Colosseum.”

“You’re not going to put yourself forward for the singles round?”

“No, I’m going to send Pyrrha,” Sunset replied.

“Of course,” Cinder drawled. “Who else but the Champion of Mistral? One might almost say that she’s entitled to it.”

“She’s a tournament fighter; we’re talking about the greatest tournament in Remnant,” Sunset replied. “Lady Nikos expects Pyrrha to get the chance to shine upon this, the most prestigious of stages.”

“And you wouldn’t want to disappoint Lady Nikos, would you?”

“No, I would not,” Sunset affirmed. “She has been good to me.”

“This is what I’m talking about, by the way,” Cinder declared. “I can’t help but think you would have been even better company when you didn’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“You realise that the me that didn’t care about anyone but herself would have only seen you as a threat, right?”

“I’d have taken my chances,” Cinder murmured, “but I do apologise for these constant interruptions. Go on.”

“Like I said… what did I say?”

“You were going to step on people to get to the top.”

“Right,” Sunset grunted. “I wanted to be the queen bee. I wanted to be looked up to and respected. I wanted to be feared. I wanted everyone to acknowledge that I was the one to watch, the one to look out for. Unfortunately for me, by the time I got there, Canterlot already had a princess.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Cinder ventured.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Sunset corrected her. “Rainbow Dash was… let me put it like this: Twilight was the heart of their merry little band, and Rainbow Dash was the soul. Does that make any sense?”

“Assume that it doesn’t and explain better.”

Sunset chewed on her bottom lip, her tail swishing back and forth as she thought about it how she could put it in such a way as to make sense to Cinder. “Think about my team, Team Sapphire,” she said. “Ruby is the heart of Sapphire, she’s the one that we all adore and who adores all of us, the one who guides us with her conscience, her morals. But Pyrrha is the one who defines our purpose, who articulates what we’re about, what we’re doing here, the best of us, the one who exemplifies our team. Heart and soul, see?”

“And what does that make you?”

“Oh, I’m the head, I keep the other two in check,” Sunset explained. “But do you get it now? Twilight was the glue that held them all together, everyone’s best friend, the one that everyone at school looked up to. She was the one who was unanimously voted Princess of the Spring Fling because everyone agreed that she deserved it. Rainbow Dash couldn’t have done that, she didn’t have that quality that brings people together, but Twilight didn’t exemplify what it meant to be an Atlesian combat school student the way that Rainbow Dash did. Heart and soul.”

“I… will take your word on that,” Cinder murmured.

“Together with their friends, they were the elite of Canterlot, even though they were only in their second year. They formed a clique, except it didn’t seem like a clique because they’d worked hard to dissolve the cliques before I got there. I found out that for some time, there had been tensions between the students on the combat track – the ones who were aiming for Atlas after graduation – and the ones who were taking the less rigorous aura training courses. The genuine combat school students looked down on the rest as dilettantes, but Twilight and her friends had put a stop to that by sheer force of personality… and probably a song or two. They had a glamour about them that no other student possessed, made even stronger by the fact that they didn’t even act like it. They were always so… helpful, to everyone, even the people beneath them, which was everyone. I couldn’t understand it.”

“Do you understand it now?” Cinder asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Not really, no,” she muttered. “It wasn’t like they were close to half of these people or anything. The point was, it didn’t take me very long to work out that I would never be on top while Twilight and her friends were ruling the school, and I wasn’t willing to wait until my last year when they graduated and left me alone. So, there was only one thing to do: I challenged Twilight for Princess of the Fall Formal. And then, to make it a sure thing that I would win, I decided to divide Twilight from all of her friends and, in that way, divide the school as well. I was certain that without Twilight’s friends as a shining beacon of cooperation and unity, the rest of Canterlot would fall apart, and all the old cliques and rivalries they were suppressing would reassert themselves.”

“Divide them,” Cinder murmured. “Yes… I can see the logic to that. After all, we are always being told by Professor Ozpin and all the rest that the strength of humanity lies in unity. It stands to reason, then, that division leads to weakness.” She grinned. “And weakness can be exploited, by an opponent with the foresight to do so.”

“My thoughts, precisely,” Sunset declared. “But how to do it? That was my problem. They were such good friends; as much as they didn’t suspect how much I hated them – when I put my name down for princess, Twilight actually wished me luck – but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy to turn them against each other. I knew that if I got caught, I would not only make their friendship stronger, but also earn the enmity of everyone who liked and looked up to them, which, as I’ve just said, was everyone.”

“So what did you do?” Cinder asked. “How did you square that circle?”

“I didn’t,” Sunset replied. “You already know this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Not for me, anyway.”

“But you tried something?”

“Yes, I tried to clone their scroll profiles so that I could make messages from me look like they were coming from other people. Once I’d done that, I sent them conflicting messages that would lead to conflict amongst the group until their friendships couldn’t take it anymore,” Sunset said. “So, I found out that Rainbow Dash had agreed to bring the softball team along to Applejack’s bake sale; I then sent Rainbow Dash a snotty message from Applejack’s scroll telling her that she wasn’t needed after all; that way, Rainbow Dash would feel insulted, and Applejack would be incensed that Rainbow had lied to her and made a liar out of her for telling everyone the softball team was coming to the bake sale. I sent Pinkie Pie a message from Fluttershy’s scroll that she – Fluttershy – wanted a big party instead of a silent auction to raise money for the animal shelter, which was exactly what Fluttershy didn’t want. And I… and I, um… I’m really not proud of what I did to try and break up Rainbow and Twilight’s friendship.”

She had known that they had the strongest relationship out of any members of the six, and she had also suspected that underneath the way she acted like she was a human just like the rest that Rainbow Dash was insecure about being a faunus in Atlas. So she had sent her emails which Twilight had ‘accidentally’ copied her into along with the rest of her friends, laughing about how they were pulling the wool over Rainbow’s eyes, pretending to be her friend, and filled with racist terms besides. None of what she had done or sought to do had been nice, but what she had tried to do to Rainbow Dash… that had definitely been the act of a bitch.

“Of course,” she went on, “it didn’t work, because-”

“They talked to one another?” Cinder suggested. “Because, to be perfectly honest, that plan seems doomed to fall apart the moment they had an in-person conversation and revealed that they didn’t send those messages.”

“Actually, that’s not how I got caught,” Sunset said. “You might think that would be how I got caught, but once someone is upset enough, then denials from the person they’re upset with just seem like exactly that: denial. No, I got caught because Twilight’s better with computers than I am, and she was able to prove that I was the source of all the messages and emails… with the predictable results.”

“They closed ranks,” Cinder murmured.

Sunset nodded. “Their friendship emerged stronger than ever before, and Rainbow Dash called me out on the carpet for it in public so that the whole school knew what I’d tried to do, and to say they didn’t see the funny side would be an understatement. Twilight won the Fall Formal crown by a landslide.” Flash had been the only other person to vote for Sunset besides herself. “To cut a long story short, my plans to dominate the school never really got off the ground after that.” In fact, things had only gotten worse from that point on, what with the Anon-a-Miss incident which she had been wrongly blamed for, Twilight and her friends becoming heroes as a result of the Canterlot Wedding, and eventually, Flash breaking up with her. It had all been downhill for Sunset Shimmer, from that very first failure.

"And that's why Bon Bon dared to deface your door like that," Cinder added. "She saw you bested and humiliated, and so, she doesn't fear you." She smiled. "Why don't you show her how wrong she is to think so little of you, to presume that she may trifle with you and with those dear to you?"

"Oh, I would, and gladly," Sunset growled. "But how? And how to do it without being caught, what's more?"

"Do you need her to know that it was you?"

"Ideally, but not in such a way as she can prove it," Sunset replied. "If I get punished for what I did to her in response to the thing that she skated off for, then I've come out of this worse than she has, and I may as well not have bothered."

"There's no risk of that if you take my advice," Cinder declared. "I know a few things about computers myself, maybe even more than the great Twilight Sparkle. I think I could help you get in just about anywhere you liked, and no one would ever be able to prove that you were there."

Sunset looked at her. "Really? You'd do that?"

"So surprised?"

"I'm wondering what's in it for you."

"Sunset, I'm hurt, really," Cinder replied. "What was in it for you when you put yourself out to help Blake?"

"Nothing much," Sunset admitted. "It just… felt like the right thing to do, I suppose."

"Precisely," Cinder said. "Isn't that, as they say, what friends are for?"

The tramp cowered against the dumpster that would soon be his tomb.

Phoebe Kommenos loomed over him. The little dog was dead at her feet – her bare feet; she had kicked off her stylish but rather impractical heels for this – and there was a light smattering of blood on her knuckles already. His blood, of course.

She was alone, now. Her girlfriends had gone, or rather, she had sent them away when she sensed that her desire for amusement was about to outstrip their own. Her mother had taught her to be aware of when her predilections were going beyond society's indulgence of the same; some things you had to hide if you wanted to be accepted in polite society.

That was why she had used to vent her frustrations on Ashley, behind closed doors where no one could see and no one could hear but mother and Philonoe, neither of whom cared. Ashley was dead now, of course, along with mother and her sister; the little idiot had left a fire burning and gotten them all killed. She missed them all. She missed her mother, and she missed her sweet, dear sister who had been so much a better person than Phoebe and yet had never judged her or reviled her. But she missed Ashley most of all. She missed having someone upon whom she could vent without consequence or without having to be careful.

Not even Mal afforded her that luxury; there were some things her teammates wouldn't ignore, some things that General Ironwood wouldn't tolerate, even if she was just a filthy faunus. But then, he had a fondness for those animals, didn't he?

And so Phoebe had to be careful. She had to hold it in. She had to hide, to control herself. But there were times… there were times when she just needed to let it out. And nobody was going to miss some vagabond from off the street or ask too many questions when he turned up dead. Nobody cared about riffraff like this.

That damned faunus had humiliated her, and for the second time! Humiliated her in front of her teammates on the day they arrived and in front of her friends today. Phoebe would pay her back someday, somehow, the same way that she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to pay Pyrrha back for all the humiliations that Phoebe had suffered at her hands.

And in the meantime, this would make her feel so much better.

Her hands clenched into fists as she advanced upon the helpless man before her.

Anon-a-Miss Strikes Back (New)

Anon-a-Miss Strikes Back

Sunset and Cinder hadn’t gone to the skydock; for what they were about to do – for what Cinder was about to do for Sunset – it was best not to go to the school library or the CCT Tower where someone who knew them both might stumble across them and spot what they were doing.

No, heading back into Vale, they had dived through the streets and stalked along the boulevards until they found a modest public library, occupying one wing of a brick-built leisure centre that also boasted a swimming pool. While Cinder lingered outside, making a call on her scroll, Sunset dived in, grabbed a book at random from one of the nearby shelves, and grabbed a computer terminal, ignoring the glare that the pinch-faced librarian was giving her as she waited for Cinder to come in. Sunset’s gaze flickered up to the window, out of which she could see Cinder talking on her scroll before flickering down to the book that chance had led her to.

It was a work of science fiction, some kind of media tie-in to something, about soldiers fighting in outer space; these particular soldiers appeared to have lost their planet somehow, and so they wandered from battle to battle like ghosts with no home to return to. It wasn’t high art, by any means, but the pages were quite turnable as Sunset waited for her companion to join her.

Soon enough, Cinder swept into the library, a slight smile playing upon her face. “Perhaps when we’re done here, we can go swimming?” she suggested.

“Another time, maybe; I don’t have my suit with me,” Sunset replied.

“Yes, that is probably a bit of an obstacle,” Cinder conceded, as she sat down in front of the terminal. “Found something good to read?”

“It’s alright; I don’t know about good,” Sunset said, putting the book to one side on the table before them. “So, what happens now?”

“Now, you watch,” Cinder said, plugging her scroll into a socket on the right of the terminal, “while the magic happens.” She grinned and got to work.

Sunset recognised some of what she was doing; despite having come to Remnant from a world where computers were far, far less ubiquitous than they were here, she was not unfamiliar with them and the way they worked. When she first arrived in Remnant, Sunset had been fascinated by the technology that humans used to make their lives easier in place of the magic that ponies used to accomplish the same goal: the heating grids that allowed Atlas to manipulate the weather in absence of any pegasi, the airships that let them fly, the chemicals in which they drenched the soil and the machines that cultivated their crops. And, of course, the ways in which their technology had surpassed the magic of Equestria by being available to more than just a select few: the equivalent of Sunset’s magic journal that everyone in Remnant carried around in their pocket. She had been fascinated, and in her fascination, she had sought to learn the secrets of these wonders. And, although she couldn’t have described in detail how a combine harvester worked or all the systems in a skyliner, she did know a bit about scrolls and computers and the CCT. She knew enough to have an idea of what Cinder was doing – she could tell that she was using her scroll to form a passive connection to Bon Bon’s scroll, which connection she was attempting to exploit for backdoor access – but at the same time, she couldn’t really follow how Cinder was doing it because she was doing it all so fast. Her fingers, lithe and nimble, skittered lightly across the keyboard, tapping lightly from button to button, silent as they passed through the holographic simulacra of keys.

Letters and numbers appeared on the screen, forming lines that briefly flickered before disappearing as Cinder hit the ‘enter’ key, or at least the image of the same. She didn’t say anything while she worked; she ignored Sunset completely. For her part, Sunset didn’t try and interrupt Cinder; she let the other girl work at her own pace.

However, she couldn’t help but notice that, as she worked, Cinder was starting to look a little concerned; the easy smile had disappeared from her face, and her smooth forehead was creased by a frown.

At some little length, she spoke, her voice smooth and calmer than her frown might suggest. “Now isn’t this interesting?”

Sunset leaned in a little to get a better view of the screen. There was a lot of code visible, and she would have had to spend some time working out what it all meant. It was easier to just ask, “What?”

“I can’t get access,” Cinder explained. “Bon Bon is using some very high quality firewalls to prevent access to her device.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Better quality than most scrolls?”

Cinder chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, Sunset, that security on school scrolls is really rather laughable.”

“Well, this is my first time trying to gain access to another student’s scroll,” Sunset pointed out. “Do I want to know how you know that?”

“I know that because I checked,” Cinder said quickly, “and fortified my own scroll so that my secrets would stay, well, secret. I advise you to do the same if you haven’t already.”

“A little paranoid, don’t you think?”

“Says the girl who wants to hack into another student’s scroll and use the information contained therein against them.”

“Good point,” Sunset muttered and made a mental note to do something about the security of her own device when they were done here. “So, Bon Bon has protected her scroll. You can’t break it?”

“Not if I don’t want her to know what I’m doing,” Cinder replied. “Which I would rather keep between us, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, believe me, I agree with you one hundred percent,” Sunset said. “I’m surprised that she had the wherewithal to think of something like that… but I’m surprised she had the guts to do what she did to my door as well.” She frowned. “If she’s that smart, why didn’t she hack our scrolls if she wanted to screw with Blake?”

“Perhaps she wanted to make a public statement?” Cinder suggested.

“I aim to make a pretty public statement with hacking,” Sunset said. “If that’s possible.”

“Hmm,” Cinder murmured. “I’m afraid that Plan A might not be workable under the current circumstances. However…”

Sunset waited for her to continue. She did not. “However… what?”

Cinder leaned back in her chair. “It’s hardly for me to say, is it? This is your revenge, after all, not mine.”

“You’re the one doing the work.”

“For you,” Cinder reminded her. “It isn’t for me to decide how to go about it. You direct; mine are simply the hands guided by your mind.”

Sunset snorted. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play it.” She bowed her head just a little, her ears descending into her mass of fiery hair. She cupped her chin with her fingers and pondered for a moment. If she couldn’t get access to Bon Bon’s device, then how to make her pay? It was possible that all plans built around electronic warfare were similar busts, and she would have to find a completely new approach, but Sunset was loath to give up so easily.

Of course, there are other ways to hurt someone than with their own secrets, as Anon-a-Miss taught me very well.

Anon-a-Miss…

“What about Lyra’s scroll?” Sunset asked. “Can you get in there, or has Bon Bon protected that as well?”

“Lyra…”

“Heartstrings,” Sunset clarified. “Lyra Heartstrings.”

“A friend of hers.”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Can you do it?”

“Give me one second,” Cinder said, her fingers flying across the holographic interface. Sunset once more fell silent, letting her work, but she noticed that there was none of the growing consternation in Cinder’s look that had preceded her announcement of her failure to breach Bon Bon’s defences. Instead, she seemed perfectly at ease before she announced, “I’m in.”

Sunset smirked, shaking her head sadly. Bon Bon, Bon Bon, Bon Bon; that was very naïve of you, wasn’t it?

“So?” Cinder asked. “What now?”

“Now,” Sunset said, “how about you let me drive for a little bit?”

Cinder pushed her chair away. “Be my guest,” she purred.

Sunset pulled her chair forwards, until she was sitting right in front of the screen. She took a moment to silently familiarise herself with what she was seeing on the screen in front of her. She was a little rusty with some of this stuff, but it swiftly came back to her.

She cracked her knuckles. “Okay, Miss Heartstrings,” she whispered, more to herself than to Cinder, “let’s see what you’ve been hiding.”

Cinder’s fingers had thumbed through the holographic display representing the different ‘keys’ on the board; Sunset’s fingers danced over them, a little more slowly but with more deftness, barely ‘touching’ the light and yet still controlling the flow of data as she sifted through all the details of Lyra Heartstrings’ life that stood revealed to her.

What is it that you believe in, Lyra? That there is another world populated by – okay, let’s leave that be for now and find something that won’t affect my life so much to share with the class.

Actually, let’s stick a pin in the main reason why I’m here and find out how in Remnant you found out about Equestria.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Sunset replied. “Why wouldn’t everything be fine?”

“Because your ears have flattened,” Cinder observed.

Sunset looked pointlessly upwards, even though she couldn’t see her ears and had never been able to do so. “Well,” she said, trying to force them back up again, “that’s because they’re a little tired, that’s all.”

Cinder stared at her flatly. “Your ears are tired?”

Sunset looked at her. “Do you really want to have a conversation about honesty after what just happened with you?”

“Ah, touché,” Cinder replied, smirking a little. “Please, continue with whatever it is that is not concerning you.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said firmly, diving a little further into Lyra’s ill-informed speculation about the existence of a magical other world that just so happened to be accurate.

What she found was a melange of just about every nonsense going – plus the one thing that was true. Lyra, it transpired, believed in just about everything: parallel universes, giant alien robots, magical horses. Apparently, the last belief originated with a woman named Megan Williams, a farmer from Canterlot in the old kingdom of Mantle days before the Great War, who claimed to have visited the magical land of Equestria and helped the inhabitants there, the ponies and the princess who ruled them, to defeat a great evil. Sunset was rather sceptical about that; she had never heard of this Meghan Williams as she surely would have done if she had become a hero of Equestria, but she could believe the part about travelling through the mirror. It couldn’t be closed from the Equestrian side, after all, and there was nothing stopping anyone from blundering through it except the fact that most normal people didn’t try to run into the plinths of statues.

It appeared that, for whatever reason, Ms. Williams had played coy about the location of the portal that she had used to reach Equestria, which was the subject of much speculation by the handful of believers who had taken her words to heart. Lyra herself had-

“Oh, wow,” Sunset said, a grin splitting her face. “Oh, wow.”

Cinder leaned forward. “Something interesting?”

“When Lyra was thirteen,” Sunset said, “she was arrested trying to break into the Atlesian R&D test bed at Crystal City because she thought they were hiding portals to other worlds there, along with the existence of aliens.”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Really,” Sunset repeated. “Her scroll is full of notes about what went wrong and how she can do better next time.”

“She’s planning a next time?”

“Apparently,” Sunset replied. “She’s a true believer, after all; she won’t rest until the truth comes to light.”

Cinder chuckled. “'The truth'? And what truth is that?”

Sunset shrugged. “That we’re not alone amongst the stars, that there copies of our own world, filled with versions of ourselves that are not quite the same as us as close as a touch and as far away as the moon.”

“Well, isn’t that an idea,” Cinder murmured. “That would be… quite something, wouldn’t you say?”

“It would be something; I’m not sure that it would be something good,” Sunset muttered. “Imagine if you met the other you, and they were more successful than you are?”

Cinder thought about that for a moment. “I’d have to kill them,” she declared.

“You might not be able to, if they were better than you,” Sunset pointed out.

“You make an excellent point; it sounds positively dystopian,” Cinder conceded. “Although…”

“Although?”

“Surely you can’t deny that there’s a certain fascinating appeal to the idea of being able to see the road not taken?” Cinder asked. “Assuming for a moment that we didn’t have to interact with any other versions of us who might not be able to resist the urge to gloat, if we could just see what our other selves could have done or been if they’d made different choices.”

“I wouldn’t want to know,” Sunset declared.

“Really? Not even a little curious?”

“Why should I care? It’s not my life,” Sunset replied. “My life is the one I’m living, the one affected by my choices. Any choices that I didn’t make aren’t mine any more; they belong to someone else.” The unicorn who had remained in some other Equestria, a dutiful student of Princess Celestia, might yet bear the name of Sunset Shimmer, but she wasn’t her.

Not least because she suspected it would make her jealous.

Cinder shrugged. “Evidently, this Lyra doesn’t share your views upon the matter.”

“Judging by this, Lyra’s a sucker for just about any story that gets told to her,” Sunset said.

“I can’t say I’m too surprised,” Cinder observed.

“You don’t even know her.”

“I know the kind of person who trains to become a huntsman or huntress,” Cinder said. “Would-be heroes, people looking for a story to tell that will put them at the centre of great, world-shattering events, people hoping that the road ahead will give meaning to their lives, people who so desperately want for their choices to matter.”

“I hope you’re including yourself in this assessment,” Sunset said sharply. “Because as things stand, you sound a moment away from calling us all pathetic.”

“Oh, perish the thought,” Cinder murmured. “No, indeed, I’m no different… except, perhaps, in the scope of my ambitions. Trust me, I have no less desire to leave my mark upon the world than anyone here, and more than some. My point is simply that those who choose this path often have a certain way of thinking; it doesn’t surprise me that they are susceptible to believing certain things, especially if they think that they might attain greatness by revealing those things: uncovering the truth, toppling the conspiracy that has kept the world in shadow, freeing us all from the shackles of our ignorance.” She laughed, covering her mouth with one hand.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose in silent question.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Cinder assured her. “It’s just… oh, poor girl, imagining that those are the dark secrets hiding in the shadows of the world.”

“You think they are… more prosaic than that?” Sunset said softly.

“I think if there is a conspiracy, it’s not hiding the existence of aliens,” Cinder declared.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “I…” She hesitated, unsure of whether or not she ought to trust Cinder with this. “I know what you mean,” she said lamely, a neutral statement if ever there was one, but one that gave away no one’s secrets.

Cinder cocked her head a little to one side. “About what?”

“A lot of things,” Sunset said. “But… let me ask you something: do you believe in something like that? Not parallel worlds or alien life, but something… something dark, maybe, something that other people might find hard to credit.”

Cinder’s face was impassive. “Are you trying to tell me something, Sunset?”

“Maybe.”

“Go on then, tell me something,” Cinder urged. “What do you believe in?”

“I don’t know yet. I just know that I believe in something,” Sunset muttered. She hesitated. “I… I don’t trust Professor Ozpin.” That was about the limit of what she felt able to tell Cinder, and strangely, she thought that Cinder might be more receptive to it than any of her other friends, if only because Cinder was a Haven student.

Not that that would necessarily prevent her from being blinded by the reputation of the headmaster of Beacon.

Cinder stared into Sunset’s eyes for a moment. “I think you might be right to distrust him.”

“You do?” Sunset asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. “Why?”

Cinder chuckled. “You’re astonished that I agree with you?”

“I’m curious why you agree with me,” Sunset said. She couldn’t help but add, “No one else does.”

“I’m not most people,” Cinder replied. “Like you, I have a bad feeling about that man. They say he has favourites: not every year, but some years, teams that he takes especial interest in. Team Coffee believe that they are among that number, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s Team Sapphire, and I’m not the only one who sees it that way, especially after your mission – your unsupervised mission. You haven’t heard it, but you’re the talk of the school.” She smiled, if only for a moment. “I worry for you. History shows that the old man’s favourites have a high mortality rate.”

“I know,” Sunset agreed. “It worries me too. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Keep your eyes open,” Cinder urged. “Keep your mind sharp. Make the smart choices when the time comes.” She grinned. “And in the meantime, take your revenge. What are you actually going to do, by the way, now that you know the truth about Lyra Heartstrings and her idiosyncratic beliefs?”

Sunset pursed her lips, allowing herself to be distracted away from the question of Professor Ozpin and other pastures that offered up a little more scope for action.

"When I was in my third year at Canterlot," she said, "and Rainbow Dash was in her fourth year, a lot of embarrassing little secrets started coming to light; someone going by the name Anon-a-Miss started sharing them across the school."

"And that was you?" Cinder asked.

"No," Sunset said firmly. "Of course, everyone thought it was me; Sunset Shimmer, up to her old tricks again. Sunset Shimmer, won't she ever learn? Sunset Shimmer, what's her problem?" Sunset Shimmer, what can you expect from a faunus? Sunset scowled. Even Flash had believed it was her, or affected too. He had left her around that time; her popularity had been plumbing new depths as a result of the false accusations made against her, and she wasn't worth the trouble to him anymore. "Eventually, the leaks stopped – and I never did find out who it was – but the damage was done by then. Everyone – and I mean everyone – believed that I'd set out to humiliate them all… and to be honest, I kind of wish I had sometimes. If they all believed that it was me, then perhaps-"

"Perhaps you should have been the monster they all thought you were," Cinder murmured. "A position that is not unreasonable."

"Stupid all the same," Sunset muttered.

"Not so stupid," Cinder replied. "After all, you're going to become that person now, aren't you?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. A slow smile spread across her features. "It has… a certain appeal, don't you think? Taking the name they used to smear me and making it my own." She didn't know what, exactly, had inspired Bon Bon to trespass against her like this, or rather, she knew what had inspired it, but she didn't know what had made the other girl think that she could get away with it. Perhaps she thought that Sunset Shimmer had gone soft, rendered nice and cuddly by the friendship of nice and cuddly people until her claws had been quite filed down. Perhaps she thought that, after two times of it blowing up in her face, Sunset wouldn't have the nerve – or would have too much sense – to come back to the well a third time. But this wasn't Canterlot, and there was more at stake here than Sunset's ego or her desire for acclamation or even her jealousy of Rainbow and Twilight. Bon Bon had trespassed against Sunset, she had offended against Blake, and Sunset wasn't about to stand for that.

So she would do the thing that she had been accused of long ago, and Bon Bon would be reminded to know her place and keep her mouth shut.

"Oh, yes," Cinder purred. "It's positively delicious."

Sunset chuckled. "Get ready, Lyra," she said softly. "You're about to get exposed by Anon-a-Miss."

Rainbow stared down at her scroll, then snapped it shut hard.

Anon-a-Miss. Great. Just great.

Twilight's gaze flickered down to her own scroll, then back up to Rainbow Dash. "What do you think?"

"You're the genius; you tell me what you think," Rainbow replied. "Is it even possible to have a parallel universe?"

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, but I'd rather listen to you geek out about science than talk about this."

"Considering how bored you get listening to me talk about science, that says a lot," Twilight replied.

"I do not get bored listening to you."

"When I tried to describe the principles of your Wings of Harmony to you, you fell asleep!" Twilight reminded her.

Rainbow shifted uncomfortably. "Only the first time," she muttered defensively. "And that was because… I was really tired."

"Uh huh," Twilight said flatly. She waved her scroll. "What do you really think?"

Rainbow took a moment to think it over. She and Twilight were in the RSPT dorm room, standing by their beds; Penny and Ciel had gotten the message from Anon-a-Miss too – everyone had – but since neither of them had any history with it, Rainbow had left Ciel supervising Penny in the library while she and Twilight came back to the dorm to talk over the implications. "She told me that she didn't do it."

"At Canterlot?"

Rainbow nodded. "When we first got to Vale, when Penny met Ruby and Pyrrha, when Sunset eventually caught up with this at the arcade, she was terrified that I would tell her teammates about the stunts she pulled at Canterlot. She told me that she wasn't behind Anon-a-Miss."

Twilight nodded her head a little. "I must admit… I never bothered to chase down the source of the leaks the way I did when Sunset started sending us all of those messages. I just assumed, since she'd been responsible before… that feels like an oversight on my part now."

Rainbow waved that away. "That was years ago, Twilight, ancient history. We all assumed that Sunset was the one behind it; you can't blame yourself."

"Can't I?" Twilight asked. "Maybe I should. Maybe we should. Those accusations, the presumption of guilt… they ruined Sunset's life-"

"They ruined two years of Combat School, tops," Rainbow corrected. "Sunset's a team leader, she has great friends, and she's a top student; in what sense has her life been ruined?"

"She doesn't have Flash anymore," Twilight pointed out.

"Nobody ruined that relationship but Sunset," Rainbow insisted. "Just like nobody is stopping Sunset getting over it but Sunset. These things happen, we deal with it, and we keep moving forward. Like Sunset has… mostly. I don't think even she'd say that Anon-a-Miss ruined her life anymore."

"But you believe that it wasn't her?" Twilight asked. "At Canterlot, I mean?"

Rainbow shrugged. "It wasn't like she denied everything that she did. Just that one thing. I guess I don't see the point unless it was true."

"And now?"

"Oh, it's definitely Sunset now," Rainbow declared. "Who'd know about Anon-a-Miss except someone who was at Canterlot at that time?"

"Coincidence?" Twilight suggested.

"The General says there are no such things as coincidences, only connections you haven't made yet," Rainbow said. "It wasn't you, it wasn't me, Lyra wouldn't do this to herself, and Bon Bon wouldn't do it to her. So who does that leave? Flash? Ditzy? They're not the kind of people to do something like that."

"Trixie might," Twilight said quietly.

Rainbow had to nod her head at that. Trixie Lulamoon was a more or less amiable blowhard, but she could have a vindictive streak a mile wide if you crossed her. She'd held a grudge for an entire year after Twilight had beaten her in the talent contest, although nobody had known it until nine months later when Twilight's locker had exploded in her face and Trixie had popped out of hiding to yell 'Now we're even, Twilight Sparkle!' "Okay, maybe she would do it, maybe she even did it the last time, but why now, and to Lyra?"

"Why would Sunset do this to Lyra?" Twilight responded.

"Because Team Bluebell kicked Blake out?" Rainbow suggested. "Because they didn't stand by her?"

"Do you think it bothers her that much?"

Rainbow shrugged. "I don't know; she likes Blake."

"I know, but…" Twilight trailed off for a moment. "Let's not rush to judgement about this, okay? If what Sunset said in the arcade is true, then we already tarred her with the brush of false accusation once; I'd rather not put her through that again."

"Lyra might not keep her mouth shut," Rainbow said.

"No," Twilight agreed. "But even if it's only for the sake of our own consciences, I think we should."

Rainbow nodded. "Okay, you're right," she said. "We don't know that Sunset has done this, and for what it's worth, I believe she didn't do it the last time. But I'm going to go talk to her."

"What for?"

"To ask her if she did it," Rainbow said. "She told me the truth before; maybe she'll tell me again now. And maybe she'll even tell me why."

Rainbow Dash was waiting for them on the docking pad when they got off the Skybus, her arms folded and her expression verging upon a scowl.

“We need to talk,” she said bluntly, glowering at Sunset ever so slightly.

Cinder smirked. “So stern.”

Rainbow’s cerise eyes flickered momentarily towards her. “Who are you again?”

Cinder’s whole body stiffened. Her eyes widened momentarily. When she spoke again, her voice had lost all playfulness, and her words came in short, sharp snaps. “No one worthy of the notice of the Ace of Canterlot, it seems.” She took a step forward, glancing at Sunset. “I’ll leave you to it,” she hissed before stalking away down the path towards the school.

“Thank you,” Sunset said quietly. “For… all your help today.”

Cinder stopped, silent, her back to Sunset. “Anytime,” she said, her voice only softening a little. She resumed her course, her glass slippers clinking.

Sunset watched her retreating back for a moment as she grew smaller and smaller in Sunset’s sight. “It’s Cinder, by the way. Cinder Fall, you’ve met her before.”

“Right,” Rainbow said, her tone neutral. “Like I said, we need to talk.”

“What about?”

“Don’t be cute,” Rainbow snapped. “You know what.”

Sunset sidestepped around Rainbow Dash, forcing the Atlesian to follow her back towards the school. “Assume that I don’t.”

“No,” Rainbow said firmly. “I’m not going to play games with you; you know what we need to talk about.” She paused. “I thought you’d changed. I thought you were different.”

“I have changed,” Sunset insisted. “I am different.”

“Yeah, you weren’t Anon-a-Miss before, according to you-”

“I told you that I wasn’t Anon-a-Miss, and I meant it!”

“But you are now, aren’t you?” Rainbow demanded, stopping walking and squaring up to Sunset.

Sunset stopped too, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Her tail swished behind her. She scuffed the toe of one boot upon the ground. The sun was setting, and their shadows were lengthening “Yeah.”

Rainbow shook her head. “What the hell, Sunset? I thought-”

“I’m not the same person that I was!”

“No, you’re doing the things that you didn’t do before!”

“Get off my back for a second,” Sunset snapped. “I’m not doing this because I want to be Fall Formal Princess or because I need it to be on top or any of the other stupid reasons I did what I did back in Canterlot. Do you think I’m threatened by Lyra Heartstrings? Do you think I feel the need to bring her down for the sake of recognition? I’m the leader of Team Sapphire, for crying out loud, the world has its eyes on us, and who is she? Who’s Team Bluebell?” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “This was for Blake. This was for my friend. That’s how I’ve changed, that’s how I’m different.”

Rainbow frowned. “What does this have to do with Blake? Is this about the team? Are you going to go after each of them in turn?”

“I probably should; they deserve it,” Sunset replied. “But no. Bon Bon is the one who put that White Fang symbol on our door while we were away. She insulted Blake, she insulted my team, she insulted me, and she has to pay for it. For Blake’s sake.”

Rainbow blinked rapidly. “Bon Bon? Are you sure? Bon Bon?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Why would she even… are you sure? How do you know?”

“Cinder told me.”

“Okay, how does Cinder know?”

“I trust her,” Sunset said. “I believe her.”

“But Bon Bon?” Rainbow said. “She never… why?”

“Why wouldn’t she take Blake back?” Sunset demanded.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “She never had a problem with me.”

“Or she didn’t dare show it because you were the pride of the school,” Sunset suggested.

“Did she ever give you a hard time?”

“Everyone gave me a hard time,” Sunset reminded her.

“Right,” Rainbow muttered. “But even if it was Bon Bon, why go after Lyra?”

“The security on Bon Bon’s scroll was too tight; I couldn’t get in.”

“What’s Bon Bon doing with beefed up security on her scroll?”

“I don’t know, although I am a little curious to find out.”

“That’s not the point,” Rainbow said quickly. “The point is that you couldn’t get into Bon Bon’s scroll, so you decided to go after Lyra instead?”

Sunset shrugged. “They’re close; it will hurt Bon Bon to see Lyra upset.”

“Come on, Sunset, surely you can see how not cool that is!” Rainbow snapped. “Lyra didn’t do anything, to you or Blake; did you even ask Blake what she thought about all this before you did it?”

“No, why should I?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that she wouldn’t want this,” Rainbow growled.

“Blake doesn’t know what she wants, and what she wants isn’t always what’s best for her.”

“Oh, but you know what’s best for her, do you? And what’s best for Blake is humiliating someone who didn’t do anything to her. You know that, right?”

Sunset pouted. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Maybe I should,” Rainbow muttered. “But no. I’m not going to tell anyone. Anyone else who was at Canterlot – including Lyra and Bon Bon – will know it was you, but I won’t agree with them and they can’t prove it. But this is it, Sunset; Anon-a-Miss retires again, and this time, she stays retired, right? If this is just the start of you trying to stir up something-”

“I told you, that’s not who I am any more,” Sunset said sharply. “That’s not what this was about.”

Rainbow looked into Sunset’s eyes. “And that’s why I won’t say anything. But if this is all… if this keeps up, then I’ll air all your dirty laundry to Ruby and Pyrrha and Jaune and see what they think of you then.”

Sunset swallowed. Her chest felt tight, and her stomach felt cold. “And if Lyra responds, or Bon Bon?”

“Then you brought it on yourself,” Rainbow said sharply. “What Bon Bon did wasn’t right, and if she makes a big deal out of it, I’ll try and persuade her to let it go, but… if you’ve changed, then you have to act like it.”

“You mean you want me to take it?” Sunset demanded. “You want Blake to take it?”

“We’re faunus; sometimes we’ve got no choice but to take it,” Rainbow hissed. “You know that better than I do.”

“When was the last time you took it, Rainbow Dash?” Sunset demanded.

Rainbow didn’t reply. She clenched her jaw and said nothing. She looked away, scratching the back of her head with one hand. “That… that’s fair enough, I guess,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Lyra’s innocent. If you have to get back at Bon Bon, then challenge her to a duel or something, kick her ass in the ring.”

“I can kick her ass in the ring any time I want; revenge ought to be something special.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Rainbow snapped. “I’m serious, Sunset, no more. Unless you want me to think that you haven’t changed as much as I thought.”

Sunset hesitated. She didn’t want to give her word to Rainbow Dash on this, if only because she thought that she might not be able to keep it. She might not want to keep it. Like Rainbow said, those – like Lyra and Bon Bon – who had been at Canterlot would associate her with Anon-a-Miss; that was why she’d chosen the name, so that they would know it was her, even as they couldn’t prove it. If Bon Bon sought revenge for Sunset’s revenge, or if Lyra wanted payback, then she didn’t want to handcuff herself out of all freedom to respond.

But Rainbow still had the potential to make life difficult for her; even now. Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune might not initially believe the things that she had done – actually, Jaune probably wouldn’t have much trouble with it – but once Twilight showed them the proof… she still needed Rainbow Dash on her side.

“I saved Twilight’s life,” Sunset reminded her. “You said you owed me.”

“You really want to use that now?” Rainbow asked. “Over this?”

That was a very good point. There was no telling when having Rainbow in her debt might come in handy. “No,” she conceded. “I really did this for Blake, you know. This wasn’t about me. This was about… she didn’t deserve it.”

“I know,” Rainbow said. “Just like I know she wouldn’t want this.”

“Fine,” she said, because she didn’t have a lot of other choices. “This is the end of it.”

She just hoped that Bon Bon felt the same way.

Consequences of Anon-a-Miss (New)

Consequences of Anon-a-Miss

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away!” Lyra said. She hesitated. “Unless you really need to go, in which case, could you not look at me when you come in?”

“No, Lyra, I don’t need to use the bathroom,” Dove said patiently. “I want to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what? About how much of a freak I am? About how I’m a total space cadet and a loser?” Lyra demanded.

There was silence from the other side of the door for a moment. “No. I want to talk to you about how you’re holding up.”

“How I’m holding up?” Lyra repeated. “I’ll tell you how I’m holding up-”

“Well, if you want to talk, can we both be in the same room while we do it?” Dove asked.

Lyra hesitated, pouting for all that Dove couldn’t see her doing it… and that was the thing, wasn’t it? Dove couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see her, and he’d gotten her to respond in such a way that she almost had to let him in, whether she wanted to or not.

She crossed her arms. “Fine. Come in. But just you.”

“Are you sure?” Dove asked. “Bon Bon-”

“Just you,” Lyra repeated.

“Okay,” Dove said, his voice gentle and soft. “Just me.”

The handle to the bathroom door turned slowly, and Dove stepped into the room cautiously, with a soft tread that could barely be heard upon the tiles. He shut the door after him and sidled across the bathroom until he was standing above where Lyra sat upon the side of the bath.

He cast a shadow over her. She didn’t meet his eyes; she didn’t even look at him. She didn’t dare to look at him, for fear of what she might see there.

Dove knelt down in front of her. “Lyra, will you please look at me?”

Lyra did not look. “Why should I?”

“Because… because it wounds me to think that you fear me, when you need not. You have no need to fear my judgement, not ever.”

Dove Bronzewing was a bit of an odd duck. Sometimes, he could be pompous and stuff; sometimes, he could be completely clueless about the most basic things… and then, other times, he could come out with stuff like that with a completely straight face – no, not just a straight face; Dove wasn’t managing to sound sincere while he said these things, he was sincere, and that… people didn’t talk like that any more. Sure, it was a little odd, but it was also kind of wonderful too. Like being in a story.

Like being in a better class of story than the one it felt like she was trapped in right now.

Lyra looked at him. Dove’s blue eyes were as sincere as his tone. There was no judgement there, no mockery. He didn’t care what she believed. He only cared how she was.

Amber, whoever she was, wherever she was, was really a very lucky girl. If she still lived, then she was a fool to have left a boy like this behind.

“Hey,” she murmured.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper. “How are you doing?”

Lyra sighed and looked down at the scroll she was holding in one hand. “Someone has set up a site that allows anyone to report sightings of alien robots, and it will send notifications to my scroll. I’m getting bombarded with anonymous tips; most of them are reporting sightings of a weirdo who believes in alien robots. I’m a laughing stock.”

“With who?” Dove asked.

“'With who'?” Lyra repeated. “With the schools, who else? With the whole student body of four academies!”

“People you don’t know and were probably never going to know,” Dove replied. “Does it really matter what strangers think of you?”

“Yes, it matters!” Lyra replied. “This was… yes, I believe in that, and I believe that there are other worlds out there with other versions of ourselves, and in one of those other worlds, the versions of us are magical talking horses, but that doesn’t mean I wanted everyone to know that’s what I thought! I didn’t even want you guys to know! Not even Bon Bon knew half of this stuff! Plus, everyone knows I have a criminal record now.”

“A juvenile record,” Dove said. “It’s not like you were in the White Fang.”

“You wouldn’t know that from some of these messages telling me I’m not fit to be a huntress,” Lyra replied. “Maybe they’re right. I mean, it’s not even like I’m that good at it.”

“You’re getting better,” Dove assured her.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is Jaune pulling ahead of me?”

“Because he’s got Pyrrha Nikos to teach him; you’re stuck with me,” Dove said.

“Am I stuck with you?” Lyra asked. “Still?”

Dove frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Lyra asked. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

Dove was silent for a moment. “Amber… she once told me that her mother was a witch. She insisted on it. I never believed her, but it never bothered me that she thought so. I don’t believe you; I can’t imagine… but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong, just like it didn’t mean that Amber was wrong. I don’t believe, but I don’t assume that I have all the answers.” He reached out and took her hands. “The only thing I do know is that no one who really cares about you will be driven away by this. Your real friends, the ones who support you, will stay by your side, no matter what.”

Lyra sighed once more. “Thanks, Dove,” she said. “I just… I just wish that was enough to make me feel better. I mean, it does, a little, but… how am I supposed to face the rest of the school on Monday?”

“With us?” Dove suggested.

Lyra smiled, albeit a little wanly. “Thanks, Dove, but I don’t… I’m not sure that’s going to be enough.”

Dove squeezed her hands. “I’m sorry for that, not least because it’s all I’ve got. I’m sorry that there’s nothing more that I can do, nothing else that I can do, but I promise that, no matter what, I’ll be right here.”

“You.”

Rainbow’s ears pricked up. It was Saturday morning, and Team RSPT had – for the second time – usurped the place at the breakfast table usually reserved for Team YRDN. Or Team YRBN now. Whichever team they were, even if Blake was part of that team now, Rainbow wasn’t feeling guilty about it. If they wanted their seats to be free at breakfast, they ought to get up earlier.

The shadow falling over her breakfast – scrambled egg on toast – made Rainbow twist around in her seat. Bon Bon loomed over her, dressed in a white blouse with a blue frilly collar and an equally frilly white skirt with blue and yellow stripes just above the hem.

It was honestly making her attempts to glower seem a lot less intimidating than her intent.

She was not glowering at Rainbow Dash. Her gaze passed over her head and onto Sunset Shimmer sitting opposite her at the table.

Big surprise, huh?

Sunset took a theatrically long time chewing on her current mouthful of grapefruit before swallowing. “Can I help you?”

“You’ve helped enough,” Bon Bon snarled, fists clenched by her sides.

Rainbow didn’t like it – or like to admit it – but Sunset managed to look reasonably innocent as she spread her hands out on either side of her. “What did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did!” Bon Bon snapped. “Did you think you could just use the same name, and we wouldn’t remember?! Do you see Lyra over there with us?!”

Rainbow followed Bon Bon’s pointing hand. Dove and Sky were waiting over at the other table, but there was no sign of Lyra.

“She doesn’t want to be seen because everybody thinks she’s crazy, thanks to you!”

“Well, she does believe some pretty out there stuff,” Sunset muttered.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully. Her face was disfigured by a frown. “What happened to Lyra was very cruel, but you can’t mean to accuse Sunset-”

“Anon-a-Miss,” Bon Bon snapped. “She even went by Anon-a-Miss just like she did in Canterlot!”

“Sunset?” Ruby asked, her voice soft and quiet. “What is she talking about?”

Rainbow couldn’t help but wonder how hard – or not – it was for Sunset to pretend to be outraged at being accused of something that she knew full well that she had done. Her ears flattened down onto the top of her head, and she bared her teeth as she rose to her feet, knuckles resting upon the tabletop. “She’s lying, Ruby. She’s repeating false accusations made against me.” She practically spat the word false in Bon Bon’s face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to come here, in front of my teammates, repeating lies and slanders made against me.”

“I know it was you,” Bon Bon replied. “Everybody knows that it was you.”

“Everybody was wrong.”

“This is a very serious accusation to make without proof,” Ciel said.

“I agree,” Pyrrha said, quietly but firmly. “Do you have any proof?”

Bon Bon froze, her eyes widening a little. “I… everyone knows!” she cried. “Rainbow Dash, Twilight, tell her!”

Rainbow got to her feet. “Let’s take a walk, huh, Bon Bon?”

“What?”

“Come on,” Rainbow said, taking Bon Bon by the arm and tugging her gently but irresistibly towards the exit from the dining hall.

“Rainbow Dash, what are you doing?” Bon Bon demanded. “Let go of me!”

Rainbow did not let her go, nor did she say anything in reply until the two of them had, one of them more reluctantly than the other, gotten outside of the cafeteria, and into the morning sunlight.

Rainbow pulled Bon Bon out of the path of the other students staggering in for breakfast; only then did she release her grip on Bon Bon’s arm.

“Thank you!” Bon Bon snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting you out here where we can talk in private,” Rainbow said. “Or at least not in front of everybody.”

Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. “What do we have to talk about, except maybe why you didn’t back me up back there?”

“Because Ciel’s right; it is a big accusation to make against someone without proof.”

Bon Bon let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, come on! You were as loud in accusing Sunset as anyone.”

“That doesn’t mean that I was right,” Rainbow replied.

“So you really think that she didn’t do it?” Bon Bon demanded. “More to the point, do you really think that she didn’t do that to Lyra? Who else would it have been?”

“What happened to Lyra was a jackass move,” Rainbow said. “But… drop it, Bon Bon.”

“Why should I?” Bon Bon demanded. “Lyra didn’t deserve that.”

“And Blake didn’t deserve to have the White Fang symbol painted on her door,” Rainbow said sharply.

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. “How… is that what this is all about?”

“So it was you?”

“And it was Sunset,” Bon Bon growled. “Are you… covering for her?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “I can’t prove anything,” she said, and kind of hated herself for how much of a weasel thing to say that sounded like.

“And you don’t want to, do you?”

Rainbow met Bon Bon’s gaze levelly. “Why did you do it?” she demanded.

“Because she’s White Fang, in spite of what people say!”

“Blake was an undercover Atlesian-”

“Oh, the hell she was!” Bon Bon snapped. “She’s White Fang-”

“She’s a faunus; there’s a difference!” Rainbow growled.

“I’m not a racist, Dash.”

“Really? You’re starting to sound a little bit like one to me.”

“You hate the White Fang more than any human I know, so why do you care about Blake Belladonna all of a sudden?”

Rainbow folded her arms. “Because I think… I think that she’s got what it takes. I think she’s made of the right stuff, okay? I’m trying to convince her that us Atlesians aren’t a bunch of prejudiced jerks, and I’m really glad that she doesn’t know what you did because it really wouldn’t help.”

“And that justifies what Sunset did to Lyra?”

“No, but… and why do you have special security on your scroll?”

“Why is that any of your business?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“Maybe you never knew me at all!” Bon Bon yelled. She took a deep breath. “Tell Sunset that this isn’t over.”

“What are you going to do?” Rainbow asked.

“I’m hardly going to tell you, am I?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “I can’t stop you,” she said, “but I’m going to ask you to leave Blake out of it. She’s a good person, and she’s not our enemy. She doesn’t deserve to get hounded for mistakes that she made.”

“But Lyra does?”

“I didn’t say that,” Rainbow said firmly. “Please, Bon Bon, let it go. I’m sorry, but if you both put this behind you, then…”

Bon Bon hesitated. “I… wish that I could trust you, Rainbow Dash,” she said, “but you…” She frowned. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned away, walking briskly away from the dining hall and towards the dorm rooms.

Rainbow’s gaze followed her as she retreated.

She had a very uncomfortable feeling that this wasn’t over yet.

And she didn’t like it one bit.

Bon Bon closed her eyes for a moment as she walked away. She really did wish that she could trust Rainbow Dash. She wished that she could believe that Blake was harmless. But she was too enmeshed in web upon web of conflicting loyalties to blithely believe that someone who had once been White Fang was now free of all loyalties to them, and Rainbow Dash was far, far too close to General Ironwood to be trustworthy. She would never believe the things that Bon Bon already knew to be true.

And even if she did believe, she might well side with him anyway.

Bon Bon had undertaken this mission because she believed in what she was doing, but there were times when she lamented the toll that it had taken on her: the secrets, the lies, the service to a cause with murderous designs, the fact that she might have to help carry those designs forward. The fact that Lyra was in harm’s way.

Of all those regrets and misgivings, the fact that she couldn’t trust anyone was quite a minor one, and yet, it was the one that she found herself focussing on as she walked away.

That, and her anger at Sunset Shimmer. She… she didn’t know what she was going to do about her. Or what she was supposed to do about her. Was she allowed to retaliate? Was she supposed to retaliate? There were times when Bon Bon thought that Sunset might be bulletproof, but then she’d been instructed to graffiti the SAPR door with the White Fang symbol. Not that Bon Bon had minded; Blake Belladonna didn’t belong here after all, but it had been a strange request nonetheless.

And it had gotten Lyra hurt in consequence.

Sunset tried to hack my scroll, found she couldn’t, and so she settled for hurting Lyra to get to me.

It was deeply unfortunate, but it wasn’t as though Bon Bon didn’t need to keep her scroll secure. There were secrets there that would do more than embarrass her if they came out.

But what to do about it?

What to do now?

“Bon Bon!” Dove cried, his footsteps pounding on the pavement as he ran after her. “Wait!”

Bon Bon turned to face him. She put a smile on her face. “Hey, Dove. Are you done already? You probably shouldn’t have left Sky in there all by himself, you know?”

Dove stopped. The two of them were almost of a height, and so he was able to look directly into her eyes without looking down on her. “You don’t have to fake a smile if it’s not what you feel,” he said. “Not for me, or anyone else. You don’t need to be ashamed of how you really feel.”

I can’t tell anyone how I really feel, any more than I can tell them who I really serve. “What makes you think I’m faking this smile?”

“I don’t see how you could be smiling so soon after yelling,” Dove pointed out.

Bon Bon chuckled. “Well, you’ve got me there, Dove.”

Dove’s face was crinkled with worry as he put one hand on Bon Bon’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“It’s not me who got attacked,” Bon Bon pointed out.

“No,” Dove agreed. “But all the same, are you okay?”

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I’m angry.”

Dove frowned. “I don’t… I’m not sure that revenge… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said. “I’m not sure that it ever ends well, but… if there’s anything that I can do, you only have to ask.”

Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. “You think that it would be a bad idea for me to do anything, but if I ask you to, you’ll help me do it anyway?”

“Of course,” Dove said, as though it was her bemusement that was strange and not his offer. “Because you’re my teammate, and my friend, and I won’t abandon you, however much I might disagree with what you’re doing.”

The smile returned to Bon Bon’s face, and this time, it was genuine. “You’re a really sweet guy, you know that?” Maybe he wasn’t the smartest guy, but in Bon Bon’s opinion, he was definitely the nicest. They were lucky to have him on their team now. “But you don’t need to get mixed up in this. I don’t want to turn this into a feud between Team Bluebell and Team Sapphire. Or Team Iron. Or Team Rosepetal.” If this is between anyone, it’s between me and Sunset. Or Blake. Or both. “I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Bon Bon assured him. “The last thing I want is to cause trouble for you guys.” She reached up and took his hand, pulling it gently off her shoulder, clasping it between her palms. “It was very chivalrous of you to offer,” she declared, with absolute sincerity. “But this… this is my business, and mine alone.”

“Right,” Dove said. “Are you…?” He stopped himself. “Right. I trust you. I just wish there was something I could do to help Lyra feel better.”

“Just be yourself,” Bon Bon told him. “Now go finish breakfast and keep Sky company.”

Dove nodded. “Right. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Bon Bon said as she watched him head back the way that he’d come, at a slower and more dignified pace.

She lingered on the spot for a moment, wracked with indecision, uncertain of what she ought to do, of what she was expected to do, of what she would be allowed to do.

And of what she wanted to do, which ought to have been the most important thing but somehow was not.

“It’s terrible the way they fool everybody, isn’t it?”

Bon Bon turned around, just in time to see Cardin Winchester step out of the shadows of the corner around which he had, apparently, been hiding.

Bon Bon took a step back. “What do you want?”

“What, do I smell?” Cardin asked. “Come on, I just want to talk.”

Bon Bon stared at him. She had never had anything to do with Cardin Winchester before, and she wasn’t certain that she wanted anything to do with him now. “What do we have to talk about?”

“Blake,” he said. “Sunset.” He hesitated. “When I arrived here, I didn’t think that faunus belonged anywhere at Beacon. Now… here’s what I know right now: a White Fang terrorist has absolutely no business at Beacon, no business bearing arms, no business walking free anywhere in Vale. There’s nothing I can do about the last two, but if she can be gotten out of Beacon, that’s good enough for me.”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. “And Sunset Shimmer?” she prompted.

Cardin shook his head. “I don’t know how those two have gotten everyone believing they’re so good,” he said. “I don’t know why more people don’t see them for what they really are. Sunset might not be a terrorist, but she’s got a mean streak in her. Petty. Vindictive.” He snorted. “It takes one to know one. You’ve just had a taste of it, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” Bon Bon said warily.

“And you want to do something about it, right?” Cardin asked.

“Maybe.”

“I’m going to need a yes or no answer on that one,” Cardin said, with a degree of exasperation.

Bon Bon hesitated. Well, that video was supposed to get Blake out of the way. “Yes,” she said. “I want Blake gone, and I want Sunset… Sunset hurt someone I care about.”

Cardin nodded. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not the only one around here who sees sense.”

“Do you have a plan?” Bon Bon asked.

Cardin smirked. “You know, I just might.”

Saturday Night Combat Club (New)

Saturday Night Combat Club

Glynda Goodwitch had broken her fast in her office – instant porridge, made in the plastic bowl that it had come in, with water from the kettle that she kept in one of her desk drawers. Now, she dumped the bowl, and the plastic spoon that had come with it, in the bin and rested her hands upon her desk.

She had a decision to make.

She’d been putting it off for a week already, ever since Miss Xiao Long had come to see her after the end of her mission.

The door hit the wall with an audible bang that would have startled someone with more sensitive nerves than Glynda Goodwitch. She looked up in time to see Miss Xiao Long, faint trails of smoke rising from the top of her hair, standing in the doorway.

Goodwitch raised one eyebrow. “Generally, students knock on my door before they come in, Miss Xiao Long, and then they open the door with a little less brute force.”

Yang stood in the doorway, the smoke continuing to rise from out of her hair, which was gleaming a little brighter than usual. Her eyes flashed red; at least, they did for a moment before she closed her eyes, screwing them up tight. The smoke ceased to rise, and when Yang opened her eyes again, they were her usual lilac shade.

“Can I come in, Professor?” Yang asked, in a voice that she was keeping calm and controlled with what must have taken a lot of effort for her.

Goodwitch gestured to the seat in front of her desk. “Please, Miss Xiao Long, come in and take a seat.” She wasn’t all that happy about the damage that had probably been done to her wall – indeed, as Yang walked in and shut the door behind her, Glynda could see a dent in the plaster – but it wasn’t something she was going to get upset about. For all that the students here were training to be the defenders of the world, they were still young men and women, with all that implied. Sometimes, they got upset; sometimes, they got very upset; sometimes, they even had reason to be out of sorts, and when they did, the best thing a teacher could do was be sympathetic. Even when the reasons were not so good, they were simply acting as they had been fashioned by the gods. There was little point in railing against the fact.

Yang said nothing as she walked inside Goodwitch’s office and sat down on the other side of the desk. Her hands, clenched into fists, were the only sign that she was not as calm as she was now trying to seem.

“Now, Miss Xiao Long,” Goodwitch said, “what is it that you wanted to see me about?”

“I want to know what the hell’s going on, Professor!” Yang cried, her voice rising once again as control of it slipped out of her grasp. She winced, possibly at that same loss of control, and her voice became quieter. “I want to know why Team Sapphire were sent on a mission without a huntsmen supervising them, and I want to know why a mission to repair a railway line ended up with them tangling with Roman Torchwick and the White Fang.” She took a deep breath. “I want to know if that was meant to happen, and why.”

Glynda thanked the gods that she had a good poker face; she kept it thoroughly expressionless as she looked Yang over the top of her spectacles. “I must advise you, Miss Xiao Long, that complaints about so-called special treatment received by another team-”

“This isn’t about me being jealous, Professor!” Yang cried. “This is about me wanting to know the truth. This is about my sister. This is about the fact that the world seems a hell of a lot more dangerous than it was when the year began, and it seems like Ruby is in the middle of it!” She took a deep breath. “I want to know what’s going on, Professor.”

Goodwitch hated the way her voice sounded as she replied: rote, mechanical. Unnatural. Devoid of feeling. And yet, she could make it sound no other way as she answered in an utterly disingenuous fashion. “Team Sapphire were assigned a training mission to accompany a Valish Railtrack repair team and protect them in the course of their work. Upon their return journey, they were ambushed by members of the White Fang and by Roman Torchwick.”

Yang frowned. “With all…” She trailed off, licking her lips. “That’s half the story, Professor, and you know it. Why wasn’t Team Sapphire accompanied by a licensed huntsman like we were?”

Goodwitch felt mildly ill, as if something had disagreed with her stomach. “The danger was not thought severe enough as to require it,” she said softly.

“Not dangerous enough? With the White Fang operating in the Forever Fall?” Yang’s chest rose and fell with her breath. “And they weren’t coming straight home after the job was done. They met up with Team Rosepetal, and they came back together on an Atlesian military train. They were hoping to get ambushed, weren’t they? They were hoping to get into a fight so they could capture Torchwick.”

“You would have to ask the members of Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal-”

“I don’t need to ask; I know my sister,” Yang declared. “What I have to ask is… did Professor Ozpin mean for all of that to happen?”

Even if Glynda had been able to be completely honest with Yang, she would still have struggled to answer that question truthfully. She had worked with Professor Ozpin for many years, for longer than Miss Xiao Long had been alive, and she still wouldn’t claim to know the workings of his mind. Nobody truly understood the way he thought; how could they? The best that they could do was guess.

Her brow furrowed just a little. “Where did you get that idea from, Miss Xiao Long?”

Yang shuffled uncomfortably on her seat. Her fist clenched even tighter, which Glynda wouldn’t have believed was possible. Her voice became a little hoarse as she replied, “Just before the semester started, Raven came to see me.”

Goodwitch’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother-”

“My mother’s name was Summer Rose, Professor, and she’s been dead more than ten years now,” Yang declared.

“Of course,” Goodwitch murmured. “I apologise, Miss Xiao Long.”

“It’s okay, Professor; I shouldn’t have… it’s just a touchy subject, you know?”

“I understand,” Goodwitch said, her voice soft and calm. “But, to be sure I understand you correctly, Raven Branwen was here? In this school?”

Yang nodded. “She spoke to me, and Ruby.”

“I see,” Goodwitch murmured. “And what did she say to you?”

Yang looked up, and met Glynda’s gaze once more. “She warned me,” she said, “warned both of us, about Professor Ozpin. She said that he’d start using Ruby the way that he used Mom. She said… she said that it would start with training missions and favours. And so… thinking about what happened… I can’t help but wonder, you know? Professor, is this what Raven warned us about?”

Glynda was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts without giving voice to any of them. “It is not my place, Miss Xiao Long, to tell you what to think about Raven Branwen. All I can say is that there is no one in the faculty of this school who harbours any ill intent towards Ruby, or any of her teammates, or any of our other students here. What happened on Team Sapphire’s mission was unfortunate, but it was never intended. Not by Professor Ozpin, and certainly not by me.”

She had sent Yang away without an answer. She had, as much as she disliked thinking about it now, played upon Miss Xiao Long’s trust and persuaded her that there was nothing to worry about.

There was, she hoped, less to fear than Raven might have thought; shame had made her paranoid, in Goodwitch’s opinion as a psychologist… but that was not the same thing as there being nothing to fear.

She, for instance, feared – a little – that Professor Ozpin had intended precisely this. Mister Arc forced to take a life, Miss Shimmer come close to sacrificing hers. Yes, the capture of Torchwick had been an accomplishment, but could it not have been left to some of James’ vaunted specialists?

For that matter, what was James thinking, throwing his own students into the fire like this?

Glynda shook her head. James would do what he thought was best; he always did. The same could be said of Professor Ozpin, but the difference was that she worked for Professor Ozpin; her strength was his, and his honour was hers, as they said in Mistral.

These were her students too. Their fate would rest upon Glynda’s shoulders as much as upon those of Professor Ozpin.

Especially now that Miss Xiao Long had come to see her, asked for the truth from her, and trusted her when she said that there was nothing to be afraid of.

An answer that Glynda had cause to reconsider every day since she had given it.

She got up from her desk and left her office. Left the main school building in which she had her office, walking across the courtyard towards the Emerald Tower that dominated the skyline and loomed above the rest of Beacon. It was a Saturday, traditionally a day on which the students might enjoy a lazier morning than that was usually afforded to them, and so, the courtyard was not as crowded as it might otherwise have been. Nevertheless, there were still some students, from what academy could not be told, as they were out of uniform, headed this way or that, or simply sprawled out at leisure upon the stone like lizards sunning themselves in the heat of the day. None of them paid Goodwitch any mind, nor did she stop to interact with any of them as she walked briskly, her cape billowing out a little behind her and her heels tapping upon the stone.

The number of Atlesian guards upon the tower had increased since the arrival of Ironwood’s forces, but the guard detail knew her well enough not to hinder her progress – the tower was open to the public, in any event – as she climbed the steps and entered the glowing green interior of the tower.

She entered one of the elevators and clasped her hands behind her back as it began the climb upwards towards the highest level, where she had no doubt that she would find Professor Ozpin. He didn’t leave his office much, not nearly as much as he ought to have done, if truth be told; despite all the duties that she had willingly accepted to ease his burdens, he still had far too much to do for any one man.

And yet, she could not help him any more.

In fact, she was on her way up to add to his burdens, not to relieve them.

She had lied to Miss Xiao Long. She would have been lying to herself if she had said that Professor Ozpin had no especial interest in Team SAPR. He saw them as gifted, extraordinary. Glynda could not deny their skill – either individually or as a team – although she felt their synergy was less than the sum of its parts. Professor Ozpin did not see it that way, or else it didn’t concern him. She could not claim to know his whole mind, but she knew enough to say that he saw the four of them as the future.

She had not spoken entirely falsely to Miss Xiao Long. Professor Ozpin’s interest in Team SAPR was, as yet, of a rather distant kind. He had not used them as he had used Team STRQ; he had not sought to take a personal hand in any of their educations as he had with Team STRQ. He had watched them, but from a distance… even the late mission that had Yang so concerned had been first at their own initiative. He knew that they had been talking with James’ Team RSPT, and so, he had provided them with a means to get involved.

It was not what Raven feared it was – yet. She might say that it was bad enough, and in the future.

Glynda’s mind turned to murky depths, to shadowed rooms, and to a girl in a glass coffin.

Not yet. Not… yet.

The elevator juddered to a halt, and the doors opened to admit the light from the great windows on the other side of the office.

Professor Ozpin was exactly where she had expected to see him: at his desk, his back bent as he pored over some report or other. It was a standing joke amongst the faculty that Glynda did all the real work of running the school, but if that was true, it was only to allow Professor Ozpin to concentrate his energies upon running the defence of Vale and the world.

He looked up, alerted to her presence by the sound of her boots upon the office floor. “Ah, Glynda,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything important, Professor,” Glynda said.

“Actually, I was just finished with this particular task,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It appears that contact with Badger’s Drift has been lost. Their relay tower isn’t responding.”

“Technical issues?” Goodwitch asked.

“Hopefully, that’s all it is,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “But… Badger’s Drift was one of the places reporting grimm concentrations nearby. A huntsman agreed to take on the job of guarding it, but…”

“Of course,” Goodwitch replied softly. Sometimes, a huntsman was simply not sufficient. “You’re going to send someone to investigate?”

“Someone will have to,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “I thought that it might make a suitable training mission: get in, discover the truth, get out again.”

“Hmm,” Goodwitch murmured. “And did you have a team in mind?” she asked.

Professor Ozpin hesitated. “I had considered Team Sapphire,” he admitted.

Goodwitch pursed her lips. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet.”

Professor Ozpin leaned back in his chair. “I don’t doubt you, Glynda, but I’d be interested in hearing your reasoning?”

“To begin with, they only returned from a mission last week,” Glynda reminded him. “Mister Arc is still working through what happened to him there, and I rather wish Miss Shimmer would pay me a visit too. From what Mister Arc has let slip, I think she’s been more affected by encounters with the White Fang than she would like to admit.”

“You can’t force her to get help,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Unfortunately not, but I can say that I think it’s too soon to send them back out into the field. Besides, it isn’t usual for any one team to monopolise the mission roster like this. People will start to talk.” She hesitated, torn between the desire to maintain confidentiality and the need to get through to Professor Ozpin. “Some people have started to talk already.”

Professor Ozpin blinked. “Who?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“No, of course not, that would be unethical,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “Less unethical than much else that we do, but, nevertheless… I apologise.”

“The point is that the favours that Team Sapphire have already received have not gone unnoticed. If you were to accord a few other teams the treatment that you have shown them, it would go a long way towards dispelling those concerns.”

Professor Ozpin rested his elbows upon his desk and clasped his hands together. “Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured. “Perhaps I am moving too quickly.”

“When the year began, you said you didn’t want to make them your agents, as you had Team Stark,” Glynda reminded him. “Even after the battle at the docks, that was not your intent.”

“Events have only escalated since the battle at the docks,” Professor Ozpin said. “I fear that we are running out of time.”

“Move too quickly, and you may lose them,” Glynda said. “As you lost Raven.”

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. “I’m aware of the danger,” he murmured. “You don’t think they’re ready?” He shook his head. “Don’t answer that. I know that they’re not ready. Just as I know that nobody is ever ready. This is not what I want.”

“I never said it was,” Goodwitch said, “but is the hour really so late?”

“I don’t know,” Professor Ozpin said wearily. “I… I just don’t know. I have too many fears and far too little information. As you say, I will not offer this particular mission to Team Sapphire. I will find other students able to take on the task.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Goodwitch said. She considered telling him about Raven, but was unable to think of a way to do so that would not betray Miss Xiao Long’s confidence. “My next request may seem perverse in light of what I have just said, but… I would like to give Miss Nikos and Miss Xiao Long some extra tuition.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “You chide me for taking too much interest in Team Sapphire, and then you wish to take a much greater interest in two students? Perverse comes close to the mark, Glynda.”

“They are two of the best students in my combat class,” Glynda told him. “The two best students in my class who are, in fact, Beacon students. And Miss Nikos is one whom you will want to…”

“Make use of,” Professor Ozpin said. “I will not be offended by your speaking the truth, as unflattering as it may paint me.”

“Hmm,” Glynda said. “The point is, Miss Nikos may have to confront more dangerous enemies than her fellow students before too long.”

“And Miss Xiao Long?”

“Is as fit as any member of Team Sapphire; they are the only two students in this academy who I think can reliably challenge one another. As such, I fear they are both plateauing. You know that Miss Nikos spends every night training Mister Arc?”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “I have seen them. It is very admirable of her to devote so much of her time to him.”

“She is in love with him, or believes herself to be, at least,” Goodwitch said, unable to keep the sniff out of her voice.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Ah, youth. Nevertheless, regardless of her exact motivations… it speaks well to her kind heart and gentle spirit. I… I fear she is most well-suited to the task.”

Goodwitch did not wish to think about that overmuch; therefore, she pressed on before her thoughts could dwell upon the notion. “Nevertheless, she isn’t learning anything in the process. I think, I hope, that some instruction from me might benefit them both.”

“There is some force in what you say, Glynda,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “Very well, you may approach them both and see if the idea is of interest to them.”

“Almost private tuition with Professor Goodwitch, huh?” Jaune asked. “I wonder why she decided to offer you that?”

“I’m not sure,” Pyrrha admitted as she adjusted the gilded greave on her right leg, “but it is a great honour to be asked by so renowned a huntress, so great that I can hardly refuse.” She looked up at him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Jaune repeated. “Why would I mind?”

“You’re losing a training session,” Pyrrha reminded him.

“Yeah, but…” Jaune hesitated for a moment. “I’ve probably been too selfish as it is, letting you spend every single night helping me to improve; if I let you turn down a chance to improve yourself… it wouldn’t be right.”

Pyrrha stood up, fully armoured and attired for battle. “You…”

“Need the help more than you?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha winced. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but-”

“You’re the best fighter at Beacon, Pyrrha,” Jaune told her. “I know it, everyone knows it. Just like everyone knows you’re going to win the Vytal Festival-”

“There are some other students who shouldn’t be discounted so readily.”

“But the world is a lot bigger than Beacon,” Jaune continued, “and there are bad guys out there like Adam, and maybe even worse than him. If you got hurt because you’d turned down all your chances to train just to help me get stronger… I don’t know if I could live with myself.”

“I… I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “You’re right, I shouldn’t rest upon my laurels. And I must admit, I’m looking forward to seeing what Yang is capable of.”

Jaune grinned. “Go get her.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a giggle escaped. “I’m not sure that’s the right attitude for this.”

“Really? I think it’s the perfect attitude,” Jaune replied.

Pyrrha laughed again. “You don’t have to stick around for this, you know?”

“What if I want to?” Jaune asked.

“Then I’ll be counting on your support.”

“Always,” Jaune whispered.

Pyrrha smiled. She reached up briefly to adjust the way that her circlet sat upon her brow before she turned away from Jaune and left him to follow after her as she walked out of the locker room and into the amphitheatre.

It was dark. Most of the lights were off, and those that were on were focussed upon the stage. Professor Goodwitch stood upon that same raised stage, her scroll out in one hand. As Pyrrha approached, she looked up, the lights glinting off her spectacles.

“Ah, Miss Nikos.” Her eyes narrowed as she saw Jaune follow her in. “Mister Arc, what a surprise to see you.”

As Jaune laughed nervously, Pyrrha said, “With your permission, Professor, I thought that Jaune might get something out of watching… whatever it is you have in store for us.”

“Hmm,” Professor Goodwitch said. “You may remain, Mister Arc, but please try to be quiet and remember that tonight is for the benefit of Miss Nikos, not yourself. If you’re having trouble following or comprehending what you’re seeing, then I’m afraid that’s something you’re going to have to live with until your skills improve.”

“Don’t worry, Professor,” Jaune said, “I’m not going to make this all about me.”

“I will hold you to that, Mister Arc,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Please, take a seat while we wait for- ah, Miss Xiao Long.”

Yang walked in from the other locker room, the one used by most of the first-year teams. In the gloom that consumed the bulk of the amphitheatre ,she shone like a blazing torch, while in her wake trailed Blake, like a pale spectre.

“I see that you also brought a second, Miss Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Miss Belladonna.”

“Good evening, Professor,” Blake said, bowing her head. “I hope you don’t mind. I admit that I was intrigued when I heard about this.”

“As I told Mister Arc, you can remain as long as you’re unobtrusive.”

“You won’t know I’m here, Professor.”

“That might actually be true,” Professor Goodwitch murmured.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Yang called. “Jaune.”

“Good evening, Yang,” Pyrrha replied. “Good evening, Blake.”

“Pyrrha,” Blake murmured with a respectful nod. “Jaune.”

“Hey, Blake, how’s it going?” Jaune asked.

“Ahem,” Professor Goodwitch said pointedly.

“Right, quiet, sorry,” Jaune said.

He and Blake hastened to find seats somewhere in the dark – Pyrrha found it easier to keep track of Blake in her white blouse than she did Jaune in his dark hoodie – while Pyrrha and Yang climbed up onto the stage.

“Thank you both for joining me here tonight,” Professor Goodwitch said. “As I’m sure you’re both aware, the two of you are the top Beacon students in your year in sparring, and the rest of the top quartile rely very heavily upon their semblances to a degree that isn’t true of you.”

“I assume you’re only talking about Beacon students, Professor,” Pyrrha said.

“Indeed, Miss Nikos, since I am a Beacon instructor,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Although I know that you both take your studies very seriously, at least in my class.”

Yang let out a laugh that mingled nervousness with a trace of discomfort. “That’s not quite fair, Professor; I work hard in all my classes. It just doesn’t do me a whole lot of good in all of them.”

“I hope that Doctor Oobleck agrees, for your sake, Miss Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “In any case, I have become concerned that, for all that you try your best, your supremacy in my class is… not preparing you for life and combat outside the walls of Beacon.”

Yang smirked. “You mean you’re worried we’ll think we’re the bee's knees until we get a short, sharp lesson otherwise?”

“Quite so, Miss Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And in the field, such lessons can easily prove fatal. Which is why I have invited you to these weekly sessions, where you can learn from one another and from me.”

“I’m honoured, Professor, and grateful for you taking the time for our sake,” Pyrrha declared.

“Me too,” Yang added. “Don’t start sucking up already, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha felt her cheeks flush a little. “I wasn’t! I simply didn’t want to presume to speak for you-”

Yang grinned. “I’m just messing with you! You make it almost too easy. But, yeah, really, Professor, thanks a lot.”

“You can thank me by giving it your all here in these sessions,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Now,” she added, climbing deftly down from off the stage. “Why don’t you start by showing me what you’re capable of when up against the best that this school has to offer?” She tapped a couple of buttons on her scroll, and the images of Pyrrha and Yang flashed up on artificial banners hanging down the back wall, complete with bars showing their respective aura levels. Both had full bars in the green.

“You want us to spar with one another?” Yang asked.

“To begin with, yes,” Professor Goodwitch confirmed. “However, I would like you to avoid using your semblances, to the greatest extent physically possible.”

“No semblances?” Yang asked. “Why not? Our semblances are a part of us and how we fight.”

“True,” Professor Goodwitch allowed, “but I want to get an idea of how you fare without them; that way, I can see if you’re using your semblance as a crutch and, if so, suggest which areas you need to focus on so that is no longer the case.”

“I see,” Yang murmured, looking downcast for a moment, before the grin returned to her face in full force as she looked at Pyrrha. “Don’t go holding back on me, okay, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha smiled as she brought Miló and Akoúo̱ down into her hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she declared. In truth, she was quite glad that Professor Goodwitch had specified no semblances on this occasion, because it meant that she could promise not to hold back without either being a liar or making a nonsense of the match by picking Yang up by the gauntlets and flinging her out of the ring as soon as the fight began. She could fight using only her finely honed skills and still keep her promise not to hold back.

The two of them stalked to opposite ends of the fighting stage and, there, turned to face one another. Yang assumed a boxing stance, fists raised before her. Her Ember Celica clacked and clicked as they extended down her arms towards her elbows. Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ up before her face and held Miló in spear mode ready, poised above her shoulder.

She couldn’t hear Jaune, but knowing that he was there and cheering for her in his heart, even if he wasn’t allowed to shout with his voice, gave her more comfort than a throng of thousands cheering her name in the arena ever had.

She wondered who Blake was cheering for, if she was cheering inside at all.

“Begin!” Professor Goodwitch declared.

In Mistral, in the arena, combat began with an exchange of crowd-pleasing banter between the two combatants, or at least, it was crowd-pleasing when it was done well. Arslan was a master of it. Pyrrha, on the other hand, found the whole business rather hard to take and even harder to respond to to the extent where she didn’t bother. Fortunately, that silent rectitude played into her ‘princess’ image with the public: she was too gracious and noble to engage in vulgar taunts.

Fortunately, it seemed that Yang was about as interested in that as she was, because she leapt into action immediately, taking a step forward and throwing punches at her as though she were shadowboxing.

Except she wasn’t shadowboxing; she was firing Ember Celica, the golden gauntlets barking and clicking as shot after shot leapt from the stubby mouths above Yang’s knuckles.

Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ up before her, deflecting one shot away from her, and then another, leaping out of the path of a third and rolling along the stage surface as Miló switched to rifle mode in her other hand. Pyrrha rolled onto one knee, bringing the rifle to her shoulder, firing off one shot and then another in quick succession. Yang dodged, just as Pyrrha had, doing a cartwheel in mid-air before she landed lightly on her feet, but as she leapt, she stopped shooting, and as she stopped, Pyrrha charged.

She dashed forward, her booted feet tapping lightly upon the floor as she rushed at Yang with Akoúo̱ held before her as Miló shifted fluidly into its sword form. Yang was on the ground and ready for her, fists clenched and ready. As Pyrrha closed, Yang threw a solid right hook, her fist snapping out like a rocket, her gauntlet blazing with fire. Pyrrha took the blow upon her shield, using Akoúo̱ to turn the punch upwards and aside, Yang’s first scraping across the surface of the shield as Pyrrha turned it upwards like a plate towards the ceiling. Yang’s momentum carried her forward; as she surged forth, Pyrrha spun upon her toe, as graceful as a dancer, dropping to one knee as she brought Miló around in a wide arc to cut Yang’s legs out from under her.

Yang leapt straight upwards, and as she jumped, one heavy boot lashed out for Pyrrha’s face. Pyrrha leaned backwards so far that she was on the floor, rolling from back to front and back again as the blasts of Ember Celica pursued her, blowing chunks out of the stage as she went.

As Yang dropped down to the stage once more, Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at her, the shield spinning like a discus as it flew unerringly towards its target. Yang caught it with both hands, the spinning weapon coming to a dead halt as Yang’s aura dropped slightly. Pyrrha was on her feet at once, wielding Miló in both hands as she charged, her spear spinning. Yang threw Akoúo̱ back at her; Pyrrha batted it aside with a deft twirl from Miló. She slashed at Yang with the spearpoint; Yang caught the blow on one of her gauntlets and turned it aside, but as she did so, Pyrrha caught her with the butt upon the side of the head. Yang winced in pain, her head snapping around, her back bending, exposing herself for a second blow across the back. Pyrrha twirled the spear above her head.

Yang’s punch caught her directly in the gut, Ember Celica booming. Pyrrha’s breath was driven out of her as she was hurled across the stage, landing near the back of it, not far from being tossed out of the ring completely.

That single hit had dropped her aura into the yellow. It was rather exhilarating.

Yang’s eyes were lilac, but her hair was paler now, as pale as flax, her semblance rising, unbidden to the fore as it was her turn to go on the offensive, charging at Pyrrha, bellowing at her enemy where she lay on her belly on the ground.

Pyrrha’s shield was some distance away – without her semblance, she couldn’t get near it – but she still had Miló in her hands. She lay on the ground, her weapon in spear form, lying and waiting, seemingly helpless as Yang came for her.

Pyrrha knew the time that Miló took to transform from each of its three modes into each of the other two, so she knew exactly when to switch her weapon into rifle mode at just the last minute when Yang, almost on top of her, had no time to react before Pyrrha emptied the last three shots into her gut.

Yang was hurled backwards, though she managed a backflip to land upon her feet as Pyrrha rose up off the floor and charged at her, Miló switching once more into a sword which she swung in a downwards crosswise slash.

Yang grinned as she caught the blow, one hand closing around the blade, and with her other hand, threw a punch for Pyrrha’s face. Pyrrha turned aside, but she felt the heat of the blast from Ember Celica burn away her aura before she twisted her whole body around, grabbing Yang’s outstretched arm with her own free and threw her bodily over Pyrrha’s shoulder and onto her back on the ground.

Yang twisted in place, her legs sweeping Pyrrha’s out from underneath her before the other girl could react and dumping Pyrrha on her backside beside Yang. Yang rolled onto her side, fist shooting forward. Pyrrha caught it, but also caught the blast from Ember Celica that took her aura dangerously close to the red. She rolled, still tightly gripping Yang’s fist, and with all the strength that remained to her, tossed her opponent as far as she could make her fly.

Which turned out to be just out of the arena, once she had finished rolling. Yang disappeared off the stage and descended into the darkness with a thud and a slight ‘oof’ of discomfiture.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Congratulations on another victory, Miss Nikos.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha murmured, as she climbed to her feet. “It was very close.” Enjoyably close, in fact; she’d known that Yang was good, but now she knew just how good she was.

“Indeed,” Professor Goodwitch agreed. “As expected of our other top student.”

Yang groaned. “Rematch,” she muttered as she clambered back up onto the stage.

The faint hint of a smile crossed Professor Goodwitch’s face. “There will be plenty of time for that later, Miss Xiao Long. For now, if you’ll come up here and Miss Nikos will recover her weapons, I’ll go over the areas you both could have improved on…”

Her Second Assignment (New)

Her Second Assignment

“So,” Blake said as she and Yang walked back towards the dorm rooms from the amphitheatre, “did you get something out of that?”

“Oh, yeah, I got tons out of it; Goodwitch really knows her stuff.” Yang tucked her hands around the back of her head, her fingers disappearing amidst her mass of blonde hair. Her lilac eyes flickered towards her smaller companion. “Did you get anything out of it?”

Blake nodded. “It was interesting to watch you and Pyrrha go all out against someone who could challenge you.”

Yang chuckled. “Yeah, she’s pretty tough, huh? Way tougher than she looks.” She paused, her eyes widening a little. “She isn’t right behind me, is she?”

Blake looked over her shoulder. Pyrrha and Jaune were also leaving the amphitheatre, but they were hand in hand and moving slowly, their steps meandering and without clear direction.

“I think you’re going to be okay,” she said, a slight smile playing across her features.

Yang’s eyebrows rose, and she turned her whole body around to look at what Blake was seeing. A laugh escaped her as a smile escaped her face. “Oh, boy. They have got it bad, don’t they?”

“Beacon’s very own fairy tale,” Blake agreed wryly.

Yang was silent for a moment. “As Ruby’s sister, I know that I should probably be pulling for them to break up, but… I see stuff like that, and I just can’t do it.”

“Ruby wouldn’t want you to,” Blake pointed out.

“I know,” Yang agreed, “but I’ve always thought of myself as being… not such a good person as Ruby.”

“That’s… hard on yourself,” Blake murmured.

Yang shrugged, her hands dropping down to hang by her side. “It is what it is; Ruby… she’s so good, you know? Not many people can be as good as that, and I’m not one of them.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Did I say that it did?”

Blake blinked. “No, I suppose you didn’t, although your tone implied it. So, what did you mean when you say Pyrrha’s tougher than she looks?”

“You know,” Yang said, as though it should have been obvious. “She looks like you ought to be able to knock her down with a tap.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking of Weiss?” Blake asked. “Pyrrha has always looked very strong to me.” She couldn’t quite resist adding. “She’s got more muscles than you do.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not what you show, it’s what you do with them,” Yang replied defensively. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just me. Or maybe it’s the way she acts.”

“That, I suppose I can understand,” Blake admitted. Outside of battle, Pyrrha did have an air of emotional fragility about her that belied her steadfastness in combat.

“I’ll get her before the year is over,” Yang vowed. “Hey, imagine if she found her semblance, then think what she’d be. That would be a hell of a challenge, huh?”

If only you knew, Blake thought. If Pyrrha had been allowed to use her semblance, then Yang wouldn’t have come as close to victory as she had done; if she had used it the way that she’d used it on the train, then Yang wouldn’t stand a chance, unless she forsook Ember Celica and fought bare-handed. “I… suppose,” she said in a careful tone that committed to nothing.

Yang nodded as though she had agreed with her. “So, you weren’t bored hanging out there?”

“Not at all.”

“To be honest, I think you’re good enough to join us.”

Blake shook her head. “I’m not bad-”

“You’re a lot better than not bad.”

“But I’m not on the same level as you or Pyrrha.”

“I don’t know,” Yang replied. “I’m not the one being headhunted for Atlas.”

“Well, yes, but that…” Blake trailed off. “That is… that’s more than a reflection on pure combat performance.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yang accepted. “Still, it must feel pretty good when another headmaster is trying to poach you specifically for his academy, right?”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

“No!” Yang cried immediately. “I mean… I suppose that I’m a little jealous. Not because I want to go to Atlas, you understand – etiquette lessons? Really? It sounds way too stuffy for me – but… I gotta admit, it would be pretty cool to be thought so much of that people want you, you of all people, to come and be a part of their institution.” Her voice dropped. “Nice to be wanted, I guess.”

The furrow of Blake’s brow deepened. “Yang…” A part of her felt as though she was the last person who ought to be even attempting to offer advice to anyone, but another part of her felt it would be obnoxious in the extreme to let this pass without comment. “Is there…? I mean, I’m here if you want to talk.”

Yang shook her head. “It’s nothing,” she said swiftly.

“Are you sure?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” Yang insisted. She stopped, her face falling a little. “Well… I don’t know; it’s just that sometimes I think… would anyone really miss me if I wasn’t here?”

“Yes,” Blake answered at once. “Lots of people. Your sister, your team-”

“Ruby has Sunset now, and Ren and Nora have each other,” Yang pointed out. “You’ve got all your Atlas friends-”

“So?” Blake demanded. “Are friendships rationed now? Just because Ruby and Sunset are close, just because Ren and Nora have known each other for a long time, that doesn’t mean that they don’t care about you.”

“Of course not, but you get what I’m saying, right?” Yang asked. “I’m no one’s…” She trailed off. “Ah, forget it. Don’t mind me, I’m just… I get like this sometimes; I shouldn’t inflict it on you.”

“I’m your teammate now,” Blake reminded her.

“But not my therapist,” Yang pointed out. “Come on, let’s get back.”

Blake’s scroll went off as they continued to walk across the courtyard. The caller ID informed her that it was General Ironwood himself.

“Wonder what he wants so late?” Yang muttered.

“It might be that Torchwick has started talking,” Blake replied. “You go on ahead; I’ll try not to disturb anyone when I get in.”

“It’s cool,” Yang said. “I’ll wait.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“It’s fine,” Yang assured her. “Now you’d better answer that, or he’ll think you’re blowing him off.”

“Right,” Blake murmured. “Thank you,” she added, with a slight smile at Yang before she turned away, and took a couple of steps away besides, and answered the scroll.

General Ironwood’s image appeared on her screen. “Miss Belladonna,” he said, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, sir, you didn’t,” Blake said.

“Good. Now, before you get your hopes up, I’m not calling about Torchwick; he’s still not saying a word,” General Ironwood informed her. “I’m calling about a different matter that we discussed.”

“I see, sir,” Blake replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice, “and what would that be?”

“We talked about you participating in missions alongside other Atlesian teams,” General Ironwood reminded her. “Well, something just came across my desk, and I thought of you. It’s nothing to do with the White Fang, so I can’t order you to do it-”

“Actually, sir, I think you probably could.”

“Perhaps,” General Ironwood conceded, “but I won’t. It’s up to you, Miss Belladonna.”

“What’s the mission, sir?” Blake asked.

“The CCT relay tower in Badger’s Drift went dark about twelve hours ago,” General Ironwood explained. “We don’t know if it’s a technical issue or something more serious, but a mission was flagged to check it out and get the relay back online, and that mission was picked up by Team Tsunami.” He paused. “With so many Valish huntsmen scattered across the country protecting remote settlements from grimm concentrations, a lot of training missions this year are going to be remotely supervised or without supervision at all. That will be the case here. So, are you interested?”

Blake didn’t need much time to think about it; she had asked for this, and it would be churlish of her to ask in principle only to turn down every opportunity in specific. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent,” General Ironwood said. “I’ll inform Team Tsunami to expect you. Meet them on docking pad one at oh-eight-forty-five hours tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Blake said. “And thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

“Good luck, Miss Belladonna,” General Ironwood said before hanging up the call.

Blake looked slightly apologetic as she put her scroll away and turned back to face. “So… I won’t be around tomorrow,” she said.

Yang smiled. “It’s no big deal. Although you’ll miss out on Nora’s pot-luck pot roast.”

Bake blinked. “Can you have a pot-luck with such a small number of people?”

“It’s always pot-luck when Nora cooks,” Yang informed her. “You never know what you’re going to get.”

Blake smiled. “I’ll be sorry to miss that.”

“Maybe,” Yang said.

“Any regrets about having me on your team?”

“None at all,” Yang declared. “Now come on; if you’ve got an early start tomorrow, then we’d better get you to bed.”

Yang and Nora were both still sleeping as Blake stole out of the Team YRBN dorm room. As Blake looked at them, both sprawled out across their respective beds, both snoring in counterpoint to one another, she couldn’t help but observe that they looked as much like sisters as Yang and Ruby did.

The thought brought a smile to one corner of her mouth as she turned away and slipped quietly out of the dorm room, shutting the door gently behind her. There was no sound from the SAPR dorm room across the hall; it was Sunday, the laziest of days for most, and she had no doubt that Sunset and Ruby, at least, were still asleep, although it was possible that Jaune and Pyrrha had already set out on their morning run. Or not; even they could take mornings off.

Blake kept her footsteps light and quiet as she walked down the hall towards the little galley kitchen not far from the stairs. Fortunately, she had experience in moving stealthily, and the hallway was so quiet that she could believe – she allowed herself to believe – that she was not waking anyone by moving about at this time.

She thought about Yang and Nora, sleeping behind her, and Ren, wherever in Remnant he might be – he was no slouch in the stealth department himself to leave the room without even Blake noticing he was gone. They had welcomed her into their team, and yet… and yet, could she really call herself a member of their team if she kept slipping off to go on missions with sundry Atlesians? But then, if she wasn’t a member of Team YRBN, then what team was she a part of? Not SAPR, not any more, for all that the letter B would be on the wall to confuse future generations of huntsmen and huntresses. Not RSPT either, when it came to that.

She was… she was the cat who walked by herself, although not out of choice, and not forever. Whatever decision she made about her future… either she would stay at Beacon when the Atlesians departed, and she could move forward as a member of Team YRBN in truth with no other ties of obligation upon her, or she would go to Atlas and become part of a new team to go along with her new start.

In the meantime…

It was with such thoughts in mind that Blake walked into the kitchenette and – her hands moving automatically – got her mug down from out of the cupboard. The mug was blue, with a cartoonish tortoise on it; it had been a gift from Rainbow Dash.

Blake filled the chrome kettle up with water and sidled across the cupboards towards the one with the coffee in it.

“Good morning, Blake,” Ren said.

Blake’s ears stiffened visibly. She looked sideways; there he was, standing near the back of the small room. She let out the breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. “Usually it’s me sneaking up on other people,” she pointed out.

“I have mastered the art of moving so slowly that I appear to become invisible,” Ren declared.

Blake stared at him.

“That was a joke,” Ren pointed out helpfully.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry; it’s not as funny as one of Nora’s jokes,” Ren said.

“It was funny,” Blake assured him. “I’m just-”

“Preoccupied?” Ren suggested. “That was the real reason you didn’t notice I was here.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Blake said as she reached up and got the coffee jar down from the cupboard. She pulled open a drawer and got out a teaspoon. “What are you doing here?”

“Once I’ve woken, I find it hard to get back to sleep,” Ren informed her. “I come here to think.”

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you,” Blake said. “I just wanted a quick coffee before I leave.”

“I understand,” Ren said. “Although Nora will be disappointed you left without saying goodbye.”

Blake winced. “I didn’t want to disturb her.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Ren said. “And so will she. But she’ll still be a little disappointed.”

“Apologise to her for me, will you?” Blake asked.

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Blake said. “Do you want anything?”

Ren shook his head. “Not right now.” He paused. “So, what’s on your mind?”

Blake shrugged as she started the kettle boiling. “My future,” she admitted. “This team. Whether or not I’m letting you down by pretending to be a part of it.”

Ren took a couple of steps towards her, placing a hand upon her shoulder. “Everyone in Team Iron understands your obligations to Atlas at the moment. Nobody holds them against you, any more than we hold your past against you. We don’t always get to choose the circumstances in which we live our lives,” he added, his voice solemn. “Sometimes, the most that we get to choose is how we respond to those circumstances, be they pleasant or otherwise.”

Blake smiled up at him. “Everyone… you’re all so very understanding,” she said, “even of the possibility that I might leave at the end of this year and you’ll be left a man down.”

“There are worse reasons to be a man down than because our teammate found her path, though it led to a place we could not follow,” Ren declared. “You can’t live your life according to the dictates of others’ desires.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Ren asked, gently but pointedly. “You can’t worry about what I think, or Yang or Nora or anyone else. If Atlas is where you want to go, then go to Atlas; if Beacon is where you want to go, then stay at Beacon. But that is a decision only you can make and a decision that you should make for yourself and yourself alone.”

Blake was silent a moment. “You should talk more often,” she said. “You’re very wise.”

Ren shook his head. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t claim to have wisdom. But you and I – and Nora – are a little alike: we’ve all been taught a few lessons by the world that came earlier for us than for most.”

“Perhaps,” Blake whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Ren said, almost as quietly. “You know, your water boiled some time ago.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Blake muttered, switching the kettle on again and watching it as it brought the – still heated, fortunately – water back to boiling point, at which point, she poured it into her cup and watched it turn the coffee granules into a steaming black liquid. A drop of milk from out of the fridge turned the inky blackness to a dull brown colour.

She took a sip. It was hot enough to scald her throat. “So what made you choose Beacon?” she asked. “Instead of Haven?”

Ren was silent for a moment, and very still. “Haven,” he said, “is… traditional. I was afraid that amongst the first questions our teammates there would ask would be ‘what is your parentage’? For some, like Pyrrha, the answer is so well-known as to bring its own difficulties. For others, the obscurity of the answer is the cause of issues. I thought… it was better if Nora didn’t have to answer.”

“I… I didn’t mean to pry,” Blake said.

“If you had been prying, I would have told you,” Ren informed her. “Good luck.”

Blake offered him a thin smile in return. “Thank you.”

She finished her coffee and then ran down to the amphitheatre to grab Gambol Shroud out of her locker. She was surprised to be met outside by Twilight in her lavender armour.

“Hey, Blake!” Twilight called.

“Twilight?” Blake said, slowing to a halt. “What are you doing here, and dressed like that?”

“I’m coming with you,” Twilight said, as though that should have been obvious. “General Ironwood is concerned that you might need someone with advanced technical skills to get the relay tower back online.”

“So, you’re coming with me and Team Tsunami?” Blake asked.

“Uh huh, that’s what I just said, isn’t it?” Twilight asked.

“And Rainbow is okay with letting you out of her sight like that?”

“Rainbow isn’t like that!” Twilight squawked.

Blake looked at her flatly.

“She’s not,” Twilight insisted, “really. Besides, Team Tsunami are perfectly capable.” She hesitated. “Although… when she found out that you were going on this mission, she did say ‘well, that’s okay then.’”

Blake blinked. “Really? She actually said that.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, nodding her head. “Why? Are you surprised?”

Honestly, yes. Blake… the little humour that Blake had obtained from imagining Rainbow’s reaction to Twilight being temporarily assigned to another team had vanished in the face of the other girl’s trust in her. Not in the team to whom the mission had been assigned, but Blake.

Last semester, she wanted to kill me; now, she trusts me with the person who means the most to her in the whole world.

It was… humbling, honestly, in a strange way because it probably ought to have boosted Blake’s ego. Instead, it made her consciousness of the responsibility that had been placed upon her shoulders. She had not asked for it, but she would prove herself worthy of it.

No matter what, she would not let Rainbow Dash down.

She wasn’t sure how to say that to Twilight, however, without sounding unbearably pretentious, and so she simply said, “We should probably get moving.”

“Probably,” Twilight agreed. “I… I’m glad that you’re here, too.”

“You are?”

“Of course,” Twilight said, her voice bright and rich with a subtle undercurrent of laughter. “You find that so hard to believe?”

“Well, you and I haven’t really…” Blake trailed off.

“You’re our friend,” Twilight insisted. She fell silent for a moment. “To be honest… it’s easy to be nice when you grow up like I did: loving parents, a big brother you can depend on, good friends, everything I ever wanted. But you… to go through things I can’t even imagine and still come out kind and generous and brave… you’re the strongest person I know, Blake.” She paused, a smile flitting across her face. “But don’t tell Rainbow Dash I said that.”

Blake chuckled. “I won’t.”

The two of them lapsed into a companionable silence as they set off in the direction of the docking pads.

“You know them, then?” Blake said, as they reached the long path that led beyond the school.”

“Hmm?”

“Team Tsunami,” Blake clarified, remembering that Twilight had described them as being quite capable.

“Oh, yes. Well, some of them better than others,” Twilight replied.

“What are they like?”

“Well, they… they’re characters,” Twilight admitted. “Some of them, anyway. She’s the one I know the least, but you’ll probably get on best with Tempest Shadow. From what I can tell, she’s very… intense.”

“You think I’m intense?”

“You don’t think you’re intense?”

Blake fell silent. “That’s a good point,” she admitted.

They reached the docking pad, where an Atlesian Skyray was waiting for them alongside four figures.

One of them Blake dimly recognised as the girl who had beaten Ruby in combat class, the girl with the curly hair of purple and aquamarine. She waved at them as they approached and jogged across the docking pad towards them. “Twilight, hey!” she cried. “It’s great that we’ll finally be getting the chance to work together, don’t you think?”

Twilight smiled. “Hey, Starlight. Yeah, although I hope you’ll forgive me for hoping I don’t get to see too much of Equaliser in action.”

Starlight laughed. “You know what they say: any mission where you don’t have to fire your weapon is a successful mission.”

“Up to a point,” Blake murmured.

Starlight turned her big blue eyes upon her. “You must be Blake Belladonna, right? The auxiliary.”

“That’s right,” Blake said softly. She didn’t offer her hand. She remembered what Starlight had done to Ruby’s semblance, and she wasn’t all that keen on having it done to her.

Starlight waited a moment, possibly for the hand from Blake that wasn’t coming, before a little nervous laugh escaped her lips. “So, anyway,” she said. “Let me introduce you to the rest of Team Tsunami: Tempest Shadow, Sunburst Flare, and-”

“The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie!” Trixie declared, throwing her arms out wide on either side of her as firecrackers of many colours – red, green, blue, and purple – exploded in a semi-circle above her.

“Trixie Lulamoon,” Starlight said, a fond smile playing across her lips. “Our team leader.”

Sunburst Flare was the only male on the team or even in the larger group, once Twilight and Blake were taken into consideration. He was a tall, lanky young man with very large, round spectacles resting on top of his pointed nose and appearing to magnify his blue eyes. His hair was red and brushed across his head so that it fell down across the right-hand side of his face, falling slightly over his eye. Despite the fact that he was the same age as Blake and Jaune, he had managed to grow a goatee of some length that descended down from his chin and made him seem as if he very desperately wanted to seem grown up and mature. The effect was slightly undercut by the fact that he was wearing a dark blue cape, with a high collar and stars embroidered on it in green, over his orange waistcoat and tan pants. White gloves enclosed his hands, in which he gripped a gilded staff tipped with a pale blue ice-dust crystal.

Tempest Shadow was a pony faunus, with a tail of rich rose red, cut in a ragged and uneven fashion, descending down towards the ground between her legs. Her hair was of the same colour, arranged in a tall Mohawk that rose like the rest of a helmet upwards and along the middle of her head. Her eyes were opal, narrow and cold, and a scar ran down her face on either side of her left eye. She was dressed in a form-fitting black bodysuit, with dark grey armour over the top protecting her torso, upper arms, shoulders, and thighs. She held a metal staff in one hand, so slender that Blake could not believe that it transformed into anything else.

Trixie Lulamoon had hair of grey and silver, long and curled, descended in waves down her back and framing the left side of her face. Her eyes were purple, and she wore a matching purple pointed hat and cape, adorned with glittering stars of gold and purple, over her similarly-adorned blue hoodie and purple skirt, so that she looked rather like a wizard from somebody’s childhood storybook. Blake could only assume that was the intention behind it. In one hand, she held a pale and slender wand.

“How do you get ‘Tsunami’ from that?” Blake asked.

“T-T-S-S,” Starlight explained.

Blake thought that was a bit of a cheat, even moreso than as spelling ‘Sun’ SSSN.

“So, Blake,” she said, her voice languid and her vowels stretched out as she strutted forwards, “I hear that you want to learn how real Atlesian huntsmen conduct themselves.” She smiled. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, because there is no better place to see true Atlesian greatness in action, than with the Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie.”

“Ahem,” Starlight said.

“And her team of faithful and glamorous assistants,” Trixie added hastily with a wink at Starlight. She threw one arm around Blake’s shoulders, pulling her forwards. “Oh, it must have been so awful for you, having to take Rainbow Dash as a model of what Atlas is made of-”

“I’m standing right here, Trixie,” Twilight pointed out.

Trixie ignored her. “But now that you’re here, you can relax and bask in the radiance of Team Tsunami. Gasp with awe as you behold the greatest team in all of Atlas in action! Be amazed by our feats of daring! And bow down before our magnificence beyond compare!”

“Um,” Blake had no idea how to respond to that. “I, um, look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Sunburst said eagerly.

“Are we actually going to get to work?” Tempest demanded. “Or are we going to stand here on the docking pad talking all day?”

“Yes, yes, we’re getting there,” Trixie said. “I’m just putting our guest in the right mood. And you might learn something too, Twilight,” she added.

“I’m sure,” Twilight muttered dryly.

Trixie pulled her arm away from Blake. “Onward, team!” she proclaimed, waving her wand above her head before gesturing towards the Skyray.

“Hey, Twilight,” Blake said softly as Sunburst and Tempest followed Trixie aboard. “This team, is it-?”

“Any good?” asked Starlight, who had remained a little behind the others. She put a hand out to stop Blake, and Blake did stop, lest she touch Starlight and have her semblance affected somehow. Starlight’s brow furrowed a little, but only for a moment. “Yes,” she declared. “Yes, we are. We might not actually be the best team in all of Atlas, but this team knows what it’s doing.” She paused for a moment, staring down at Blake. “General Ironwood assigned you to join us on this trip, and I’m sure the General knows what he’s doing-”

“But you don’t want me here,” Blake finished for her.

“All that time alone as an undercover agent has to be tough,” Starlight said. “If you were an undercover agent, that is. I’m sure you know how to handle yourself in a fight, but we’re a team, and I’m not having any member of it get hurt because you can’t remember what that means. The lone wolf stuff stays behind, clear?”

How is that you’re not the leader? Blake wondered. “Crystal clear,” she said.

Starlight nodded, seemingly satisfied with Blake’s word. “Then let’s go,” she said.

They boarded the Skyray; Blake took a degree of comfort in the fact that there was no sign of Sun anywhere.

The doors of the airship slid shut.

“Good to go!” Starlight declared.

The airship lifted off the docking pad and headed westwards, weaving between the Atlesian cruisers, waggling its wings in salute to the capital ships as it soared towards the mountains, and away from Vale.

Tsunami (New)

Tsunami

The Skyray bearing Team TTSS within flew westward across the kingdom of Vale, passing over tall pine forests as the mountains beyond loomed ever larger.

Within the airship, the four members of TTSS – plus their two guests – sprawled about the central space, sitting upon various boxes and bags that had been loaded up on board by the time Blake climbed in. Nobody had yet explained to her what was in them.

“This big box here has my drones inside,” Twilight said, seeming to read Blake’s mind as she patted the large, metal-rimmed case on which she sat upon Blake’s right. “I’ve also got my tools to repair the relay. I’m not sure what the other stuff is.”

“This and that,” Starlight replied. “Grenades, ammunition, MREs-”

“Are you planning an extended trip?” Blake asked.

“No,” Starlight said. “But it never hurts to be prepared, right?” She was the only member of the enlarged team who was not sitting down, managing to keep her balance standing despite the vibrations of the airship as it flew.

“I suppose not,” Blake murmured.

“Hey, Blake,” Sunburst Flare drew her attention to her left. His cloak was thrown back, which meant that Blake could see that he was reaching into a pouch at his belt to produce a deck of playing cards. He shuffled the deck once or twice, then took a handful of cards, spread out in his hands, and offered them to Blake. “Pick a card.”

Tempest Shadow groaned and rolled her eyes. Trixie chuckled. Blake stared at him, eyebrows climbing ever so slightly up her face like mountaineers in the midst of a very cautious ascent up a particularly treacherous summit.

“Come on,” Sunburst said eagerly, shaking the cards a little in his grasp. “Please?”

Blake took a card, which turned out to be the five of diamonds.

“Now give it back to me,” Sunburst instructed, and Blake handed the card back to him without protest.

Sunburst put all the cards that he had offered back at the bottom of the deck and then proceeded to shuffle said cards with vigour, his hands moving rapidly to alter the deck in his hands. “Now,” he said, holding up the two of spades, “is this your card?”

“Um,” Blake hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid not, sorry.”

Tempest snorted. Sunburst let out a surprised, “Oh.” He took the next card off the deck – the jack of clubs – and showed it to her. “Is this your card?”

“No,” Blake admitted.

“Uh,” Sunburst murmured. “Could it be this one?” He showed her the seven of hearts.

By now, there was a part of Blake that wanted to lie to put him out of his misery, but nevertheless, she shook her head. “Sorry.”

Tempest shook her head, while Starlight said, “Don’t worry, Sunburst. I’m sure that even professionals have bad days.”

“I guess,” Sunburst murmured, putting the deck of cards back in the pouch at his belt. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Blake assured him. “So, you’re into magic?”

“Stage magic,” Sunburst replied. “If you know Twilight, then you probably already know that she believes in real magic existing out there in the world, but I just can’t see it.”

“Not convinced by Twilight’s evidence?” Blake asked.

“Sunburst is unnecessarily close-minded,” Trixie declared. “How can anyone not believe in the existence of magic when the Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie stands before you?”

“You believe in magic too, then?”

Trixie laughed. “The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie doesn’t simply believe in magic, the Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie has magic! Why else do you think that I’m so Grrreat and Powwwerful?”

“I…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “I really have no idea.”

“Trixie,” Twilight said, “you realise that… your tricks, impressive as they… they’re not real magic, not in the sense-”

“I know that!” Trixie cried. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I can too do real magic!” She swept her hat off her head. “Behold and be amazed, as I produce from out of this hat, Twilight Sparkle’s pet dog, Spike!” She plunged her hand into the hat, and her face froze, set in a mask of confidence betrayed by the way that her eyes suddenly betrayed a degree of uncertainty. “Twilight Sparkle’s pet dog,” she repeated, and it looked as though she was fumbling in her hat. “Twilight Sparkle,” she repeated a third time, an edge of desperation in her voice.

The smirk on Tempest Shadow’s face was unmistakable.

Trixie pulled out her hand – empty – and set her hat back on top of her head. “I don’t need to prove anything to you anyway,” she huffed.

“Ohhhkayyy,” Starlight said, drawing out the vowel sounds a little more than she needed to. “Ears up, everyone; it’s mission briefing time. Twilight, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Twilight raised her right arm, twisting it a little so that a holographic keyboard appeared above her wrist, a few of which virtual keys she tapped with the armoured fingers of her left hand. A holoprojector stirred to life, and Starlight took a step back as the centre of the Skyray was filled with a pale blue holographic rendition of a moderately-sized village, nestling at the back of a wooded valley, with a relay tower rising up high above any other structures in the community and even above the tall trees that jutted out of the rising valley slopes like the jaws of some particularly voracious predator. A river or stream cut through the centre of the village, crossed by only a single bridge that Blake could see and winding its way out beyond the limits of the hologram, which continued until the wooded valley gave way to flatter and more open ground beyond. A part of the valley had been cleared of trees, and tunnels bored into the rockface, though how far the tunnels extended, she couldn’t tell from this hologram.

“Thank you, Twilight Sparkle,” Trixie said, though ever so slightly gritted teeth. “Starlight, give the mission briefing, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure thing, Trix,” Starlight said, with a fond smile that did nothing to explain to Blake why she wasn’t the leader instead of Trixie. “Everyone, this is Badger’s Drift, home to the westernmost relay tower in the Kingdom of Vale. That relay tower went dark yesterday, which means weak signals in a substantial part of Vale and a complete blackout in these valleys where signals from the main tower are blocked by the mountains. This means that we are entering a dead zone; until the tower is back online ,command will not be keeping us company on this mission. Our job is to get that relay working again, which is where Twilight comes in. Hopefully, it’s just a mechanical issue, and she can fix it easily.”

“What if it’s more than just a mechanical issue?” Blake asked.

Starlight looked her in the eye. “Then we search, rescue, and destroy.”

“Speaking of which,” Twilight said, pulling out her scroll, “I’ve developed an app which should be a big help; the General authorised me to test it out on this trip.”

“An app?” Sunburst repeated. “What kind of app?”

“Motion tracking,” Twilight said, as she pushed a button. A moment later, the scrolls of everyone else in the Skyray buzzed with a notification. “With it, you can use your scrolls to detect movement in your vicinity; just in case… you know.”

“Do we have to have our scrolls out to use this?” Tempest inquired.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Twilight replied.

“More useful for those of us who can use our weapons one handed,” Starlight observed, “but we’ll make it work.”

Blake cocked her head to one side. “If the village was attacked by the grimm then any survivors might have fled into those caves. Do we know what they are?”

“Mining tunnels,” Starlight said.

Blake blinked. “Dust mines?”

“Diamond mines,” Twilight corrected her. “Most of the diamonds sold in the Kingdom of Vale are mined from this area, and it’s the only place in Remnant where blue diamonds have been found.”

“I’d look so good in blue diamonds,” Trixie observed.

Tempest snorted. “Better get a lot better at magic if you want to make that kind of money.”

“With that much lien at stake, I’m surprised it’s such a small town,” Blake observed.

Starlight shrugged. “It’s hard to get people to move to a remote place like this so far from the big cities. Hard to supply and defend them too.”

“Plus, there isn’t a lot of good farmland nearby,” Twilight added, “and in any case, most of the mining is done by robots.”

“I see,” Blake murmured. If only the SDC would follow suit.

Or not. If they automated their workforce, then fewer faunus would be dead in mining accidents, but more of them would be destitute.

It occurred to Blake that if Badger’s Drift was bigger, then they – the owners of the mines – might have found themselves powering down their robots just to provide jobs for the population.

The Skyray flew on. Blake got her scroll out, her address book open, watching as the amber indicators of weak signal began to flash up against the images of Sunset, Rainbow Dash, Yang, of everyone she knew who wasn’t sitting in this airship, until eventually, their images darkened, indicating that she couldn’t reach them at all. Only Twilight and the members of Team TTSS remained. They had entered the dead zone.

She put her scroll away and glanced at Twilight, who was looking down at her hands as they rested on her knees.

“Twilight?” she murmured, reaching out and touching Twilight’s armoured elbow. “Are you okay?”

Twilight looked up. “I, um… I’ve never been out in the field without Rainbow Dash before, you know?”

Blake nodded, smiling out of one corner of her mouth. “I thought as much,” she admitted. “Are you nervous?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Blake assured her. When she’d gone on her first mission without Adam, she’d barely been able to keep her hands from shaking. “It’s… it’s normal, especially for a non-combatant. Anyway, the point is that Dash isn’t here, but you’re not alone. I’ll take care of you.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Starlight corrected her, crossing the couple of steps separating them in the Skyray. Tempest seemed to be watching them as she knelt down in front of Twilight. “Hey, Twilight.”

Twilight smiled, if only for a moment. “Hey, Starlight.”

“I know that I’m not Rainbow Dash,” Starlight said, “but we really do know what we’re doing… even if it might not always seem that way.”

“I heard that!” Trixie cried.

Starlight chuckled. “The point is, even if this turns out to be something more than a simple mechanical error, we’ve got each other's backs, and we’re coming home safe.”

“That’s right!” Trixie yelled, getting to her feet. “Though our enemies are numerous, and though their fangs are sharp, we will prevail, because we’re Team Tsunami, and we strike with the force of a rampaging hurricane!”

“Yes, we do,” Starlight agreed. She paused. “Twilight, do you mind if I load up on your semblance before we land? It’s pretty versatile.”

“Sure,” Twilight said.

You’re just giving her your semblance? Blake thought.

It must have shown on Blake’s face, because Starlight said, “My semblance doesn’t always cut semblances; I can just copy and leave Twilight with the ability to access her semblance even while I can use it too. It depends on whether I’m borrowing from a friend or denying an enemy.”

“I see,” Blake said softly. That sort of explained how easily Twilight could approach this transaction, but at the same time, Blake still didn’t like the idea of just anyone being to copy her semblance. It was a reflection of her soul, it was hers, it was one of the things that defined who she was. While Starlight Glimmer was defined by the fact that she could just take that away whenever she wanted to.

Blake couldn’t help but think that said something about her.

Nevertheless, Starlight pressed on, holding out her hand to Twilight. Twilight didn’t seem to hesitate as she placed her own hand, encased in its lavender armour, into Starlight’s open palm. There was a flash of teal light in Starlight’s hand, Twilight let out a soft gasp, and then Starlight pulled her hand away, clenching it into a fist.

“Thanks for… for letting me do that,” she said, unable to meet Twilight’s eyes.

Trixie, on the other hand, did meet Twilight’s eyes and nodded silently to her.

The Skyray set down upon an airstrip, a flattened patch of ground covered with concrete near the mouth of the valley. With what Starlight had said earlier about the difficulties in supplying settlements like this one, and from the fact that she couldn’t see a road or a railway line anywhere, Blake guessed that airships were the only means of supplying Badger’s Drift, its only means of contact with the outside world… the only way the lucrative diamonds reached the rest of Vale, there to adorn the necks of the likes of Skystar Aris.

Admittedly, Blake had never actually seen Skystar wearing anything like that, but she had only met the other girl a couple of times, so that wasn’t too surprising. She’d be very surprised if she didn’t have a couple of fancy necklaces, being the First Councillor’s daughter and all.

Mind you, I was a princess of sorts, and I never had anything like that.

They dismounted from the airship, leaping down with all of their gear onto the tarmac surface, at which point, the airship rose into the sky again, taking off in a wide and lazy circle over the surrounding area.

“Team Tsunami, this is Rapidfire,” the female voice crackled in Blake’s ear. “I’ll stay on station until you call in.”

“Thank you, Rapidfire,” Trixie said. “I promise we won’t keep you waiting too long.”

As Badger’s Drift was set in the rear of a valley, it could be protected by a single wall of white stone, maybe ten meters high, running from one side of the ravine to the other; a pair of towers rose a little higher than the wall, topped with pyramid-shaped roofs, on either side of the gate. It was not the most sophisticated defence setup, but it probably served to keep bandits from trying their luck and would even be enough to hold off the occasional grimm who might amble by.

Whether it had been enough in this case remained to be seen.

The silent relay tower rose high above the wall; the only building in the village that was visible above the wall. Some attempt had been made in its design to accommodate a traditional Valish aesthetic, and those efforts had borne fruit with the result looking a little like the sort of tower that the eponymous girl might have been trapped in… if it weren’t for the obvious antenna sticking out of the top.

Trixie tapped her earpiece, and Blake guessed that she was broadcasting on all frequencies, or at least the ones she thought the town would respond to. “This is Trrrixie Lulamoon of the Atlesian Team Tsunami,” she declared, and though she didn’t refer to herself as ‘Great and Powerful,’ she seemingly couldn’t help trilling her Rs. “We’re here to help you with your relay problem.” She waited; Blake couldn’t hear a response, and she guessed that Trixie couldn’t either. “Hello?” she said. “I said this is Trixie Lulamoon of Team Tsunami, can anybody hear me?”

“It is a dead zone,” Tempest pointed out.

“Yeah, but we should be able to get point-to-point contact at this range,” Sunburst replied, a little nervousness creeping into his voice. “Right?”

Starlight pulled her rifle off her back and into her hands. Its lines glowed green with power.

Trixie took a deep breath. Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she pulled a phial of fire dust out of a pouch at her belt and slipped it into the base of her wand. She took another deep breath. Her hand might have shook, but her voice was firm as she said, “We should get moving.” She led the way herself, striding forwards and forcing the others to follow. Starlight had the stock of her rifle pressed into her shoulder, although the barrel pointed downwards. Sunburst carried a bag of gear in one hand and his staff in the other, while Tempest had two bags slung across her back and surprised Blake by transforming her staff into a very slender-barrelled rifle, one that had no stock of any kind and no handle to speak of either. Blake slid Gambol Shroud free of its sheath, the ribbon fluttering from the hilt.

They approached the gates, which were of a dark wood and resolutely shut. There was no sign of anybody in the towers.

“Hello up there!” Trixie called, her voice carrying over the wall with great ease. “This is Team Tsunami of Atlas Academy. We’re here to fix your relay tower. Open up!”

Silence was the only response which they received.

“Can anyone hear me?!” Trixie yelled. “I demand to speak to your supervisor!”

“The supervisor’s probably dead too,” Tempest muttered.

Sunburst winced. “Did you have to?”

Tempest shrugged. “Everyone’s thinking it; I was just saying it.”

“If everyone was thinking it, you didn’t have to say it,” Blake murmured.

Tempest glanced at her, a slight trace of a smirk upon her face.

“What do we do now?” Twilight asked. “I could have one of my drones fly over the wall and-”

“No need,” Trixie assured her. “The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie will simply teleport onto the other side of the wall and open the gate.” She raised one fist into the air. “The Magician’s Exit!” She threw down her hand, and Team TTSS and their companions were engulfed in a cloud of grey smoke. Blake’s eyes watered a little, and she started to cough as the smoke filled her throat. Fortunately, it cleared within moments and without any ill-effects that Blake could determine, what was more, revealing the sight of Trixie Lulamoon trying – and failing – to scramble up the wall.

She lost her handhold and fell, landing on her rear end with ill grace. She glowered at everyone as she got back up to her feet, as if daring anyone to make an issue of it.

Blake didn’t say anything, but inside, she was beginning to wonder if Rainbow Dash was the exception to Atlas, not the rule; if the majority of Atlas students were incompetent blowhards like this, then the northern academy was probably not the place for her.

On the showing of Team TTSS thus far, she was beginning to think she would be better off at Beacon.

Twilight knelt down, opening up her case of drones and lifting one of the delicate machines out of its resting place. “Why don’t I use this drone to see if I can find another way through the wall?”

Trixie sniffed. “An excellent idea, Twilight Sparkle, I was wondering who would be the first to suggest the obvious course of action. Hurry along, now; we haven’t got all day.”

Blake found herself exchanging glances with Tempest Shadow, who jerked her head towards Trixie in a ‘see what I have to put up with’ kind of manner.

Twilight also glanced at Blake, although apologetically in her case, before she activated her drone. The little machine rose a couple of feet, rotors whirring, even as a feed from its camera began to appear on Twilight’s scroll.

The team remained where they were, weapons out, eyes glancing around them, as the drone set off, running along the course of the wall, camera trained upon said wall and transmitting images back to Twilight.

“Have you found anything yet?” Trixie demanded.

“Not yet,” Twilight said, with admirably equanimity in the face of Trixie’s impatience. “Give me a little- oh.”

“'Oh'?” Starlight repeated. “'Oh' what? Is that good 'oh' or an-”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Twilight murmured. “Oh, dear.”

What was not good, as the rest of the team found out as they gathered around Twilight to look at the image on her scroll feed, was a culvert set in the base of the wall to allow the village’s namesake drift to pass through without being contained. It looked as though a metal grate had covered the culvert’s entrance from the outside, but it had been almost completely torn away, with only a few jagged stumps of metal protruding from concrete.

“Does that look big enough to admit a grimm to anybody else?” Sunburst asked tremulously.

“Depends on the size of the grimm, but, yes,” Starlight agreed.

Blake took a step forward. “If a grimm can fit, then so can I; I’ll crawl through the culvert and open the gate for you from the inside.”

Trixie opened her mouth, but was cut off by Starlight saying, “I’ll go with you.”

“I can do this by myself,” Blake said.

Starlight’s gaze was flat, hard and unyielding. “I’m coming with you,” she said, in a voice that left no room for discussion.

And, to be perfectly honest, there wasn’t time for an argument about this. “Fine,” Blake said, turning away from the rest of them and striding off down the wall in the direction of the culvert.

Starlight was slowed by the need to take off her vest first – or at least she wanted to take off her vest so that she was thinner and smaller crawling through the drain – but she soon caught up with Blake by moving at a jog.

“Clearly, you weren’t listening when I said that the lone wolf stuff stayed behind,” Starlight declared.

“Were you listening to yourself when you said that this team was capable?” Blake demanded.

Starlight reached out for Blake’s shoulder. Blake recoiled, turning on her toe and retreating a couple of steps away from Starlight.

Starlight held up her hand. “Just because I can copy your semblance doesn’t mean I’m going to,” she pointed out.

Blake stared at her. “In my experience, people rarely tell you that they’re going to snatch away the things that make you who you are. They just do it, because they can.”

“That’s not who I am,” Starlight declared. “You may think that you’ve got a pretty good idea of what this team is, but I’m asking you: don’t write us off just yet.”

Blake didn’t reply to that. There was nothing much to say in response to that. It was all very well for Starlight to ask for patience, but this wasn’t class; there were lives at stake here, and she wasn’t convinced that Trixie understood that, or cared about it.

“Let’s get this done,” she whispered.

Starlight didn’t stop Blake as she resumed leading the way to the culvert. They found it easily enough, not least because Twilight’s drone was hovering beside, camera still trained upon the hole where the grill had been torn away.

Water flowed through the culvert, but it was not deep enough that they would have to swim, although the drain was small enough that they would have to crawl. Getting Twilight’s drones and gear through would have been difficult, but for the unencumbered Blake, it shouldn’t present too much of an obstacle.

“Would it make you feel better if I went first?” Starlight asked.

Blake hesitated. It would, but on the other hand, she trusted herself more than she trusted any of Team TTSS right now. “No,” she said. “I’ll do it.” She sheathed Gambol Shroud upon her back and plunged into the water. It was deep enough that it overflowed her boots, filling them up and soaking her purple leggings. As she started to crawl, she could feel it on the patch of bare skin around her bellybutton where her outfit left her stomach exposed. The water was cool, and not particularly clean by the look of it. As she moved her hands through it, she could see little particles attaching to her skin, not to mention all the sediment at the bottom through which she was crawling just as much as through water. She hoped that there was nothing more unsanitary than dirt here, but even if that was true, then she was still going to have to wash everything when she got back to Beacon.

As she crawled through beneath the broken remnants of the grill and into the culvert, the sunlight dying and the world plunging into shadow, Blake heard Starlight moving behind her. She was splashing a lot more than Blake, at least in Blake’s opinion.

“I will accept,” Starlight said, “that we may not have made the best first impression. But come on, give us until the end of one mission before you judge.”

“It may be too late by then,” Blake muttered.

Starlight was silent for a moment. “I told you that we’re not Rainbow Dash. That’s unfortunate, because Rainbow’s great. I can see why General Ironwood likes her so much, although don’t tell Trixie I said that.” She paused. “Since you know Rainbow so well, I’m guessing that she’s sung the General’s praises to you?”

“Something like that,” Blake admitted. “I’m not sure how much of it I believe.”

“Honestly? Me too,” Starlight said. “I accept his experience, I accept that he is respected by a great many people, but do I accept that he deserves to be put up on some sort of pedestal the way that Rainbow and his other admirers do? No. He’s just a man, and men…”

Blake ventured a glance over her shoulder. “Men what?”

Starlight’s eyes gleamed a little in the shadow of the culvert. “You ever heard of the story of the man with two souls?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you think it means?” Blake asked as she turned her head backwards. She was crawling towards the light, the other side of the culvert and the other side of the wall. “It seems more relevant to this discussion.”

“We’re all the man with two souls,” Starlight said. “We’ve all got light and dark within us, fighting for control of our body. Good and evil battle within our hearts each day, and that is no less true of General Ironwood than of anyone else.”

“That makes sense,” Blake conceded, “but spelled out like that, it must make it hard to trust people.”

“I trust some people a lot,” Starlight replied. “I don’t trust anyone blindly.”

I wonder if Rainbow or Twilight could say the same. “But you want me to trust you and your team?”

“I want you to reserve judgement,” Starlight corrected, “for just a little while longer.”

Blake reached the end of the culvert. The grill here had been torn away, just like it had at the other end, and so, there was nothing stopping her from crawling out and back into the sunlight. She scrambled onto her feet and out of the water; her waistcoat and blouse were filthy, with it showing more strongly against the white than the black, and she could feel the water in her boots. Her leggings were soaked through, and the belladonna flower embroidered on them was invisible now.

She would definitely need a wash when she got home.

As Starlight, similarly filthy, splashed out of the culvert behind her, Blake drew Gambol Shroud once more, the sword switching into pistol configuration as she scanned the village before her with her gaze.

Aside from the quiet, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Badger’s Drift was a nice-looking settlement, nestling between the two sides of a valley that was mostly covered with trees, except for the tunnels that the miners had dug to get at the riches that lay beneath. The houses were of stone, irregular in size compared to brick, with edges that seemed a little rough and ready but sturdy-looking at the same time. One- and two-storey buildings mingled higgledy-piggledy, with some modest balconies jutting out from the two-storey houses. The relay tower loomed above all of them, casting a long shadow.

There was no sign – at least none that Blake could see – of any of these buildings having been smashed down, no doors broken into, no windows shattered. The village looked fine. Except it was too quiet. It was mid-morning on a pleasant summer’s day, and no one was stirring? No one was out of doors? No one could be heard at all?

It was wrong, and Blake didn’t like it one bit.

From the frown on her face, Starlight didn’t think much of it either. “Let’s go,” she said. “We need to get that gate open.”

As they ran down the length of the wall, Blake found – much to her discomfort – evidence of the violence that had been hidden from her initially: doors broken down, windows smashed, objects discarded in flight… blood on the streets.

And then Starlight’s scroll began to beep.

Blake looked at her. She was using Twilight’s motion tracking app, and from the other side of the scroll, Blake could see a white dot, representing an object in motion, approaching Starlight, and her.

Blake gripped Gambol Shroud in both hands, finger resting on the trigger, as she turned in the direction of the approaching whatever it was. Starlight held her weapon – Blake didn’t know what it was called – in one hand, holding her scroll up with the other. The beeping was incessant as the white spot headed towards them.

“I don’t see anything,” Blake said, her eyes darting this way and that. She saw the buildings, some of which bore some evidence of violence done unto them, others which looked so peaceful it was as if their owners had locked up and gone on vacation. She didn’t see anything, neither grimm nor survivor, moving towards them.

And yet, the motion tracker didn’t lie, did it?

Blake tapped her earpiece. “Twilight, are you sure your app works?”

“It should do,” Twilight replied. “Why? Are you getting something?”

“I don’t know,” Blake muttered. “Could it be-?”

Something darted out of the open door of a nearby house; Blake snapped off two shots which missed, kicking up dirt and prompting an outraged yowl from the tabby cat which ran across the road towards them.

“Was that shooting?” Sunburst demanded.

“Confirm contact? Starlight are you okay?” Trixie yelled.

Starlight slung her weapon across her back. “We’re fine, Trixie,” she assured their leader. “It was just a cat,” she added, bending down to stroke the feline with her free hand. “It was just a cat, and we were a little jumpy. Sorry about that, little guy.” She petted the cat one last time before she stood up. “We’re on our way to you now.”

They made the rest of the journey to the gate without incident until they actually arrived at the gate. Then, they saw the bodies. Judging by the fact that he was clutching a sword, Blake guessed that one of them had been the huntsman hired to protect Badger’s Drift; she didn’t know who the other three were, but it seemed from the way their bodies lay on the stairs that they had been caught coming down off the walls. Maybe, when they realised that the grimm had crept in through the culvert, they had tried to rush down and confront them… only to be too late.

“It’s weird, huh?” Starlight said. “How they… sometimes clean up after themselves, and sometimes not?”

“They want us to know they were here,” Blake replied. “They want us to be nervous.”

“It’s kind of working,” Starlight muttered. “We need to get this gate open. Luckily…” She walked towards the gate, besides which sat a red light, currently glowing, and a green button underneath.

Starlight slammed the button with the palm of her hand.

Slowly, with much low rumbling like the stomach of some great beast, the gate began to slide open.

Twilight, and the other three members of Team TTSS, made their way through the opening portal even before it had completely opened up. It didn’t take a moment for them to spot the bodies.

“So it was the grimm, then,” Twilight murmured. “It can’t ever just be a mechanical failure, can it?”

“Apparently not,” Tempest said.

“So… what now?” Sunburst asked, looking at Trixie. His cheeks had gone a little green. Blake wondered if he’d ever seen the results of a grimm attack before.

“We need to search the area for any survivors,” Blake declared. “Like I said, they might have fled into the mining tunnels-”

“What we need,” Trixie interrupted her, “is to get the relay tower back on line as per our orders.”

“Our orders?” Blake repeated, her voice shaking with disbelief. “This town has come under attack, people have died, and you want to just keep blindly following orders?”

Trixie scowled. “Our priority is to restore the tower-”

“Our priority is to protect life; we’re huntsmen!” Blake cried. “Or at least you’re supposed to be.”

Trixie’s blue eyes blazed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean are you really going to put blindly following orders like some robot ahead of doing what’s right?”

“I don’t need you to lecture me on how to run a mission!” Trixie snarled. “Even if you are some kind of secret agent! I’m the leader of this team, and I say that we’re going to head straight to the tower and restore communications!”

“Well, I say that we need to search for survivors immediately and rescue as many people as we can-”

“And what will you do once you find them?” Starlight demanded. “Without comms to call in medical, evac, or backup?”

Blake froze. The words stuck in her throat. She looked away from Trixie – who was glaring at her as though she were hoping to manifest a laser eye semblance and blow Blake’s head off – to her other companions on this mission; Twilight didn’t meet her eyes; she was looking downwards as though she were engaged in a very detailed study of the ground beneath her feet. Sunburst was biting his lip. Tempest looked completely unruffled by any of this.

Blake bowed her head. She hadn’t… she had been so focussed on the need to get to people that… Starlight was right; her options would be severely limited once she found any survivors until communications were restored.

“Orders don’t always make us feel good,” Starlight said, “but they usually make sense.”

“More people could die while we’re repairing the tower,” Blake pointed out.

“Then we’d better make it snappy, hadn’t we?” Starlight replied, her voice quiet and not carrying any judgement.

Blake took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at Trixie. “I… I’m sorry.”

Trixie snorted. “Apology accepted,” she replied, in a tone of ill grace. “Now, let’s move. Like Starlight said, the faster we make it to that tower, the better.” She set off, but stopped after a single step. “Wait.” She turned around, looking down at the bodies to her right. She frowned and raised her wand. Fire shot from the tip of it, an expanding cone of flame that consumed both the bodies mounting the steps towards the wall. Trixie turned, and more flame leapt from her wand tip to strike the other two bodies.

Trixie closed her eyes for a moment. “That’s the best that even the Great and Powerful Trixie can do for you,” she said, as the remains were turned to ashes where they lay.

“It’s better than nothing,” Starlight said.

Trixie flicked her hair, tucking a few rogue silver-white strands behind her ear. “Now, we move!” she declared, gesturing towards the rising, looming tower with her wand.

They ran, seeing no one as they crossed the village; at least, nobody alive. There were signs of fighting, signs of the grimm, but they saw neither grimm nor survivors. They did see bodies, though, and Trixie burned them with her fire dust just as she had those at the gate. They lay in the doorways of their homes, but they also seemed to form a trail towards the tunnels dug into the valley wall.

Blake felt her hands start to itch; she understood the need to get the tower back online, but why couldn’t they split up, some to the tower and others to search for survivors? Maybe Trixie was just too blinkered to think of it, or perhaps she didn’t trust her team to be able to function in smaller sub-units.

Either way, Blake doubted that she would get a sympathetic hearing if she raised the idea now. She got the feeling that, just as she had judged Team TTSS, so the team had now finished judging her. And they were no more impressed than she had been.

They arrived at the tower. There was another body outside, this one wearing a green Valish uniform, with what looked like a badge with a crossed pick and shovel on it on his collar.

“Was there a garrison here?” Sunburst asked.

“No, just a detail to maintain the relay tower,” Twilight replied. “An officer and four men of the Royal Engineers.”

“Royal Engineers,” Tempest mused. “How can there be Royal Engineers when there are no royals?”

“How can there be kingdoms when there are no kings?” Blake asked.

The corner of Tempest’s lip curled upwards. “How indeed?”

“Twilight,” Trixie ordered, “open the door.”

The tower might have been built with an eye to Valish architectural sensibilities, but the door was definitely not old-fashioned; it was a solid blast door of black metal, designed to withstand assault; it was shut, but there was some hope that if it had been closed in time, they might find people inside.

It also, however, posed a problem for them getting in, a problem that was swiftly solved as Twilight stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the control panel.

“It’s locked,” she announced, “but if I just…” She trailed off, murmuring to herself as some kind of device – it was long and thin and metallic and looked like a screwdriver to Blake – extended out of one of the fingers of her gauntlet before she inserted it into a socket on the wall. The holographic display on her arm stirred to life, and Twilight began to tap furiously on the light buttons with her free hand before the door slid open, grinding back into the recesses of the wall.

“We’re in,” she said, after it had become obvious that that was the case.

“Good work, Twilight,” Starlight complimented.

“Yeah, you’ve gotten even faster than before,” Sunburst added.

“You know what they say about practice making perfect,” Twilight replied.

“Tempest,” Trixie decreed. “Guard the door.”

“Whatever you say, leader,” Tempest replied.

Inside the tower, it was dark. All the lights were dead, and no amount of flicking the nearest switch back and forth could get them to work again. Starlight attached a flashlight to the shoulder of her vest, and the tip of Trixie’s wand glowed with a bright white light, but it was Blake with her natural night vision who moved ahead, leading the way down corridors which were pitch black to the others but which were as clear as day to her.

There were no survivors, at least none that she came across. There were more bodies though: Royal Engineers with weapons in their hands, and by the looks of it, civilians who had fled into the tower for protection.

But how had the grimm gotten to them with the door locked?

Blake’s footsteps echoed upon the metal walkways, for the interior of the tower was all Atlesian modernity, with smooth metal corridors that were almost featureless. She didn’t like the sound of all the footsteps in here; she had to keep reminding herself that they belonged to allies, not enemies. The motion tracker apps detected nothing. It seemed they were the only ones here.

Twilight, in the midst of the group, called out directions to those leading the way, and so brought them to what looked like a control room. There were no dead men here, thankfully, but there was a lot of wanton vandalism: the guts had been ripped out of the control panels that lined the walls.

“Oh, no,” Twilight wailed. “It’s been completely wrecked! Do you think they knew what they were doing?”

“I hope not; that would make it one smart grimm,” Starlight replied. “Can you fix it?”

“It depends what you mean by 'fix it,'” Twilight replied. “It will take over a week of repairs to get this tower fully operational again, but I think I can rig up a way to talk to command in… an hour. Maybe thirty minutes, if I’m lucky.”

“Do it,” Trixie said. She froze, her expression doubtful, her eyes darting this way and that. She looked at Starlight Glimmer for a moment, but said nothing. She looked away. Nobody said anything. Starlight and Sunburst didn’t seem inclined, Blake didn’t dare. Twilight was too busy getting out her tools; it was the only sound in the control room, her rustling around in her bag of tricks.

Eventually, Trixie spoke, “You’ll stay here and get your work done, Twilight; Tempest will guard the door. The rest of us,” – she looked Blake in the eyes – “will head for the caves.”

The caves were dark, but not completely lightless; mining lights had been strung up along the walls of rock so black it seemed almost obsidian, and those lights were still on and lit their way as they walked down the largest central tunnel dug into the rock face.

“You know,” Sunburst observed, “Twilight’s drones would be ideal for scouting all the different tunnels.”

“Twilight can’t operate the drones and repair the comms,” Starlight pointed out.

“I know,” Sunburst acknowledged. “That doesn’t mean I can’t regret it, right?”

“I suppose not,” Starlight agreed. “There’s a fair amount to regret around here.”

Sunburst nodded. “Right.” He tapped his earpiece. “Twilight, how are you getting on with the repairs? Twilight?”

“The tunnels are interfering with the reception,” Starlight said. “A dead zone inside a dead zone.”

“I… I hope that some people made it into these caves,” Sunburst said. “I hope that enough made it that they can rebuild this place. It reminds me of the place where we grew up, you know?”

“Yeah,” Starlight murmured, a melancholy note entering her tone. “Yeah, I get you. Like you said… hopefully.”

“Hopefully, Twilight gets communications back on soon so that she can use her drones,” Trixie grumbled. “Or we could be searching these tunnels for days and not find anything!”

A scream echoed up from deeper into the tunnels. A child’s scream.

Trixie was the first one to start running, the others not far behind. Blake and Starlight had their guns ready, Trixie’s wand swung up and down in her hand as she pumped her arms. Her sparkling cape trailed behind her as she ran, rounding a corner to behold a little girl, fallen on the ground, screaming up at the grimm that loomed over her.

It looked like a giant rat; at least eight feet tall, with a tail of bone – spikes protruding out at all angles – that was another four feet long at least and a bony mask over its face from which two giant teeth extended down. Plates of bleached bony armour covered its back, obscuring the black fur beneath. Its forepaws were small, but the claws that ended them were sharp.

It was a stormvermin, a rat grimm, Blake recognised the description from Professor Port’s class; he had told a story about battling them beneath the sewers of… she couldn’t remember where it was supposed to be.

She couldn’t remember how he’d beaten them either. Professor Port made it very hard to recall the important bits of his lectures.

Blake raised Gambol Shroud, snapping off two shots from her pistol which ricocheted harmlessly off its armour plates. The stormvermin swung its head around to brux at her, slamming its teeth together angrily.

Trixie raised her free hand. “Magician’s Intervention!” she cried as she brought her hand down in a swift chopping motion. A puff of smoke surrounded her, and Blake’s eyes widened as she saw a second puff of smoke burst out of nothing between the grimm and the girl… and when the smoke cleared, there stood Trixie.

Her cape swirled around her as though it was buffeted by a hundred winds. The moons upon her hand gleamed silver and gold. And Trixie laughed, her laughter mocking and defiant in equal measure, as she flung out one hand out by her side and brandished her wand before her in the other.

Fire shot from the tip of the wand, fire in a great gust, expanding outwards, cone-like, to consume the upper half of the stormvermin. The grimm screeched in pain, cowering futilely as the fire kept coming, kept burning. The fire danced in Trixie’s eyes as the grimm turned to ashes.

Trixie locked eyes with Blake for a moment, the slightest trace of a smirk upon her face, before she turned and knelt down in front of the little girl that she had just saved.

“Hey there, kid,” she said. “Are you okay?”

The girl sniffed. “I… I think so. Are… are there any more of those things?

“It doesn’t matter,” Trixie assured her, “because if there are, then the Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie will protect you over and over again!”

Starlight walked forwards towards them both. “What are you doing here all by yourself? Where are your parents?”

“They’re further down in the tunnels,” the girl said. “I came out because…” She looked away.

“Hey,” Trixie said. “Do you want to know a secret, kid?”

“My name’s Millie.”

“Do you want to know a secret, Millie?” Trixie asked again. “We all make mistakes, even the Great and Powerful Trixie. So what were you doing here all by yourself?”

“I was looking for my cat, Jonesy,” Millie replied. “I… I lost him when we were running, and I was worried about him all by himself.”

“Your cat, huh,” Trixie said, sweeping the hat off her head. Blake could only stare in amazement at the idea that she would actually try this here and now, of all times and places, as Trixie reached into her hat… and there was a yowling sound, the hat shook as though something inside were fighting to get out, and then Trixie produced the tabby cat that Blake had shot at earlier that day. It wriggled in Twilight’s grip, struggling to get free. “Is this your cat?”

“Jonesy!” Millie cried, embracing the tabby with both arms, hugging him tight as he tried to get free of her, ignoring all his attempts to wriggle out of her grasp. “Thank you so much! How did you do that?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Trixie said.

“Say, Millie,” Starlight said, “now that you know that Jonesy’s safe, can you lead us back to where your parents are?”

Millie nodded eagerly, and she led the way through the tunnels to a large hollow where around thirty people, maybe more, were gathered, not counting the children, of whom there were quite a few. They were all dirty, ragged, and dishevelled. They had no supplies that Blake could see, and some of them were injured, and their injuries were going untreated. The best that could be done for them was to cover in layers of coats and hope that was enough to keep them warm. Only two people had guns that Blake could see; meanwhile, nerves and anxiety were so plain to see on everybody’s faces that it was a wonder that more grimm hadn’t found them already.

It was clear that nobody believed little Millie when she said that Trixie had made the pet cat appear from out of her hat – Blake wasn’t sure that she believed it herself – but nevertheless, they looked at Team TTSS as though they were more than human, as though they were in some way miraculous for finding them there, and so quickly.

And when Sunburst put down his bag and opened it up to reveal that it was full of candy bars and water bottles, the people looked at them as though they would have happily voted Team TTSS for First Councillor if they could.

Blake watched as Sunburst gave out food and water to the refugees down here, while Trixie distracted with magic tricks and bombastic pronouncements; she watched and was forced to concede that, yes, perhaps she had been a little hard on them before.

“You can admit I was right any time you want,” Starlight said, a smile playing across her face as she leaned against the cavern wall next to Blake.

Blake glanced at her. “You asked me to reserve judgement until after the mission,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Starlight admitted. “Still, you see what I mean? Trixie… she’s got it where it counts.”

“Why is that?” Blake asked. “At the gate, and then here-”

“I’ve given up trying to understand,” Starlight admitted. “Maybe it really is magic.”

“Even if it is magic, then it should still work all the time,” Blake pointed out. Sunset’s does.

“Like I said, I’ve given up trying to explain,” Starlight repeated. “All I know is that-” She stopped as the scroll in her hand began to beep. “Trixie, we’ve got movement!”

Trixie got to her feet. “How many?”

“It’s hard to say,” Starlight said, because there were not a lot of individual dots coming towards them on the motion tracker so much as one great, undivided blob, with a couple of smaller outriders preceding the main group.

Trixie and Sunburst joined Blake and Starlight in front of the mouth of the cave. “How many grimm attacked you?” Starlight asked.

One of the refugees, a man with a balding head and a walrus moustache, shivered as he said, “Just one.”

“One?” Starlight repeated. “That’s impossible, that-” The first stormvermin poked his head around the corner; Starlight blew said head off with a single clean shot, and then did the same to the next. “That’s two right there, and Trixie already got a third.”

“There were many when they broke in,” the man corrected himself, “but then they merged, became one giant creature; I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Oh no,” Sunburst groaned.

Blake blinked. “What? Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“You ever heard of a rat king before?”

“No,” Blake said. “What’s a rat king?”

“Instead of just growing,” Sunburst explained, “stormvermin sometimes-”

His voice was drowned out by the sound of bruxing, the sound of a score or more of stormvermin grinding their teeth, fangs chattering together, growing louder as the creatures came closer and closer, the great blob on Starlight’s motion tracker drawing nearer and nearer, as the sounds that they made got louder and louder and the fear of the children and adults alike became more and more pronounced. They huddled together, they cried out in fear, they wailed and wept as the bruxing, the sound of all those stormvermin, got closer.

But it was not a horde of stormvermin that approached; it was a single rat king.

Blake didn’t know how they had done it, but once they had gotten inside the walls, all of those stormvermin had combined somehow; all their tails were fused together, joined within a spiky, armoured sphere from out of which stretched the bony tails of all the rat-like grimm, turning a mass of grimm into a single grimm. One grimm with many heads and many minds all joined together as one.

The rat king shrieked, a single sound sprang out of many mouths, as it rushed forward, a broiling mass of teeth, individual bodies of the whole scrambling over themselves to reach their enemies.

Many bodies, part of a single whole. It occurred to Blake that this rat king was not a terrible metaphor for the Atlesian forces, and it struck her how absurd it was that she should think of a thing like that at a time like this.

Starlight fired – Blake fired too – laser bolts and bullets from Gambol Shroud slamming into the stormvermin heads, scoring their bony skulls but slaying none of the individual components of the rat king. Trixie thrust out her wand, fire spraying from tip of it, and Sunburst used the wind dust crystal in his staff to create a tornado of air which fanned the flames, increasing their spread and intensity until the rat king was confronted by a wall of flame, flames leaping up the height of the cave, flames which the grimm could not avoid but had to pass through.

Pass through it did, though, or at least, the rat king sent one of its bodies, not seeming to notice that it was on fire, surging through the flames to strike Trixie square in the chest and knock her off her feet, the wand flying from her hand to clatter on the ground.

Blake leapt forwards, Gambol Shroud switching smoothly from pistol into sword as she flung her hook to bury it in the burning flesh of the stormvermin before she fell on it with cleaver and blade and sliced off its head.

The body ceased to burn, turning to ashes, all save the tail, the spiked and bony tail which lashed out like a whip to hit Blake across the midriff and send her flying. Blake, caught by surprise, not anticipating having to use a clone, was sent pinwheeling through the air, hitting the cave ceiling before plummeting down to land upon her front on the ground.

Starlight’s gun transformed in her hands into a long lance, a lance which she wielded in smooth, flowing strokes to slice the tail into pieces before it could strike at Sunburst. The flames began to die down; another part of the rat king rushed forward, and though it was impaled on Starlight’s lance once more, its tail was free to whip her to the ground.

Trixie regained her feet just as another rat grimm leapt over Starlight, forced to her knees and temporarily distracted, its jump so high as to clear the huntsmen completely.

“Oh no you don’t!” Trixie yelled, and from out of her sleeve, she flung a line of multi-coloured handkerchiefs, of the sort that would be pulled from out of somebody’s ear, a line of handkerchiefs all tied together which she flung towards the grimm and which, by some miracle, wrapped all around it like a lasso, pulling the grimm – or part of the grimm – away from the refugees to where Blake – beginning to catch on – severed first its tail and then its head.

Trixie recovered her wand, expelling the fire dust cartridge and inserting a phial of ice dust which she used to create a wall of ice at the mouth of the cave.

They could hear the rat king battering at the ice wall from the other side. Every time its many heads hammered against the wall, the people cried out.

“No one be alarmed!” Trixie declared. “The Great and Powerful Trixie will come up with a solution… momentarily.” She turned to the others. “Sunburst, how do we kill this thing?”

Sunburst pushed his glasses up his nose. “Destroying the cluster of tails will do it; that’s how they’re all linked; taking it out will… either kill them or weaken and confuse them; it’s not entirely clear.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Starlight said. She walked briskly over to the bag of gear that Sunburst had brought with him and rummaged around in it until she pulled out a large grenade.

“That’s not our only one of those is it?”

“No,” Starlight said quickly. “But we do only have two.” The grenade she had been holding hovered above her hand. “Luckily for us, I borrowed Twilight’s semblance.”

“Mm, lucky,” Blake murmured.

The ice wall began to crack. Blake transformed Gambol Shroud into a pistol once more. Trixie loaded her wand with lightning dust, and Sunburst did the same with his staff.

The first head of the rat king broke through the wall. Lightning from Trixie and Sunburst lashed at it, but that didn’t stop more heads from breaking through until the ice wall shattered and the rat king stood revealed once more, pushing as many of its bodies as it could through into the cave, in spite of all the lightning that was loosed on it.

Starlight flung the grenade, Twilight’s telekinesis guiding it through the mass of stormvermin, guiding it towards the mass of tails that had been armoured in bone, dodging this and that individual head, dodging the tail that sought to knock it aside, getting closer and closer-

Until one of the stormvermin leapt out of the black and bony mass and swallowed the bomb whole. The explosion ripped it apart a moment later, but the tails were untouched.

“Dammit!” Starlight growled.

Blake ran for the pack, skidding to a halt beside it as she grabbed the remaining bomb.

“Blake?” Starlight yelled. “What are you doing?”

Blake didn’t respond. She just ran. In her other hand, Gambol Shroud switching once again, flowing fluidly from pistol into sword, her legs and arms pounding as her filthy boots hammered upon the rocky floor. She burst past the members of Team TTSS, leaping over the grimm rat that sought to lunge at her. They must have recognised that she was holding their destruction because another stormvermin leapt up to close its jaws around her, only for its fangs to bite mere shadow as Blake’s clone dissolved, revealing the real Blake several meters ahead.

Trixie had, in the end, shown Blake what she was made of; now Blake would show Trixie what she was made of in turn.

She leapt through the mass of the rat king, using her clones to take the hits while she danced on, rarely bothering to strike and then not aiming to kill, only to get some obstacle out of her way. The rat king was shrieking, its mass of bodies turning over themselves in their rush to get at her, but they were being harried by lightning blasts and by the fire of Starlight’s rifle, and those attacks and the pain they caused hampered it. It couldn’t get hold of Blake; she had too many clones, she was too nimble, they just couldn’t stop her.

And she got closer and closer to the tail. Close enough that she could reach out her hand and the bomb was almost touching the bone covered mass.

Blake pulled the fuse.

The last thing Blake heard was the world exploding. The last thing she felt was being hurled backwards.

The last thing she saw was the fire consuming everything.

“Blake? Blake!”

Blake blearily opened her eyes, the face of Twilight Sparkle slowly coming into focus.

“Blake!” Twilight cried. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

Blake groaned.

“I’m not surprised; your aura broke,” Twilight exclaimed. “You’re lucky you don’t have any permanent injuries.”

Blake sat up, or tried to sit up, anyway. It was hard when your body hurt that much.

“Try to stay still,” Twilight insisted. “You shouldn’t move.” She shook her head. “Starlight told me what you did. What were you thinking?”

Blake looked around as best she could. Medical personnel were administering aid to the injured refugees. “We won, right?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. You destroyed the rat king, and Starlight and the others took care of the stormvermin. And I restored communications and requested aid from Vale.”

Blake let out a long, slow breath. “Then it was worth it. One might even say it was cheap at the price.”

Twilight frowned. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“So surprised?” Blake asked. “I’m sure Rainbow Dash would agree with me.”

“Maybe,” Twilight admitted. “Even so, you-”

“It’s what I signed up for,” Blake told her. “Beacon or Atlas, it doesn’t change that.”

“I’m not… I don’t know; maybe you’re right, and I’m just showing my naivety,” Twilight admitted. “So… how did it feel?”

“Almost dying?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “No, your mission with Team Tsunami.”

“Oh,” Blake said. She thought about it for a moment. “They… they weren’t Rosepetal.”

“I heard that!” Trixie yelled.

Uncomfortable Truth (New)

Uncomfortable Truth

Blake bent down to start unloading her clothes from one of the large washing machines that filled up the laundry room in the dorm room basement. Five such washing machines, along with two tumble dryers, ran along the right-hand wall of the room, while the other side was taken up with wooden hanging racks for drying clothes out on, if that was preferred, or airing clothes that had been ironed. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an actual airing cupboard anywhere in the dormitory. A pair of ironing boards lay propped up against the wall, waiting.

“It looks weird, you wearing your uniform on a Sunday,” Sunset said as she grabbed one of the ironing boards and set it up. The metal legs crackled and groaned as Sunset lowered them into place.

“I didn’t exactly come here with a lot of clothes,” Blake murmured.

“I… have never noticed that before,” Sunset admitted. “How come I never noticed that before?”

Blake, still bent over, looked around at her. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

“Probably not,” Sunset conceded. “You should have mentioned it; we could have… gone shopping or something. We still could.”

“Thanks,” Blake said, a touch of amusement creeping into her voice. “But I’ll pass. There are ways that I’d rather spend time with you than shopping for clothes.”

“Me too, but it seems like you could do with them,” Sunset pointed out.

“I’ve managed just fine so far,” Blake pointed out, turning her attention away from Sunset and towards the washing machine. She had changed out of her mucky outfit just as soon as she and TTSS got back from Badger’s Drift, and left her stuff in the washing machine while she went up to the SAPR dorm room to do some more work with Pyrrha on their essay. Now, a couple of hours later, she was back to put her stuff in the dryer, at which point, there might be time for a little more work with Pyrrha if she was still willing.

Or perhaps she would wait with Sunset while the latter got her ironing out of the way.

Either way, the first thing was to actually get her stuff out of the washing machine. Blake pulled on the latch and opened up the door to find that someone had beaten her down here.

Someone who had painted ‘Terrorist Scum!’ in lurid blood red across her white blouse.

Blake held up her blouse, the only blouse she had, in both hands. “Please tell me this will come off in another wash.”

Sunset was looking down at a pair of jeans and had to look up, asking, “What will come-?” The words died on her lips.

Both Blake and Sunset were silent for a moment, a silence shattered by the crack of Sunset kicking one leg of the ironing board hard enough to make it topple over onto its side, the iron falling with it.

“Be careful,” Blake warned. “Those things are fragile.”

“Do I look like I care?” Sunset snapped, stepping over the fallen ironing board. “That little… hasn’t she learned her lesson yet? Is she a glutton for punishment or something?”

“Who?” Blake asked.

“Bon Bon, who else?” Sunset demanded, her ears flattening down on top of her head. “She needs another, then she’s going to get another lesson, and-”

“Bon Bon?” Blake repeated. “Sunset, what are you talking about?” she asked, although she had a bad feeling that she knew exactly what Sunset was talking about. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Sunset said. “Bon Bon is the one who vandalised our door, and I’ll bet she’s the one who did this too.”

“And what did you do?” Blake asked once again, her tone firmer now. “You were Anon-a-Miss, weren’t you?”

Sunset was silent for a moment, which said a great deal in its own right, because if it was not her, then why would she not simply deny it? Why not say ‘no’? Why stand there so sullen, thrusting her hands into her pockets, looking away from Blake, unless she had done it but didn’t wish to say so.

“Say it, Sunset,” Blake urged. “If you think that what you did was right, then you should have no problem having the courage to say so, and if you think that you did was wrong-”

“It wasn’t!” Sunset growled. “She had it coming.”

“Who, Lyra?” Blake asked, her voice like iron. “Lyra didn’t do anything.”

“No, but Bon Bon did.”

“So you got back at her by punishing her friend who didn’t do anything wrong?!” Blake cried. “That’s ridiculous! It’s worse than ridiculous; it’s wrong! How could you?”

“I did this for you.”

“No!” Blake snapped. “No, I will not have that. I have spent too long having people tell me that they’re doing terrible things ‘for me’ or ‘so I don’t have to,’ and it wasn’t true when he said it, and it’s not true now!” Blake’s whole body trembled. “Have the guts to admit that you did this because you felt offended, and no lies about protecting me.”

Sunset stared at her, eyes wide. “I’m not Adam,” she said quietly.

“No,” Blake conceded. “But that fact alone doesn’t make you a good person. I don’t belong to you, Sunset; an attack on me isn’t an attack on you, you don’t get to be angry on my behalf, you don’t get to respond on my behalf, you don’t get to take revenge on my behalf.”

“It was my door too; am I allowed to get upset about that?”

“If you must, but leave me out of it!” Blake shouted. “I didn’t ask for you to hurt Lyra, I didn’t ask for you to try and get back at Bon Bon, and I won’t have you pretend that you were driven by concern for me.”

Sunset scowled. “Just because it’s not a form of concern that you like doesn’t mean it’s not concern. And why do you care that Lyra had her secrets shared across the school?”

“Because I’m in this position because I had my secrets shared across the school!” Blake reminded her. Loudly.

Sunset looked down at the ground, scuffing her foot back and forth. “Right. Of course. But that-“

“Worked out in the end?” Blake demanded. She held up her blouse once more. “Not completely.”

Sunset looked at the garment and the words that had been sprayed onto it. “I wanted to warn her off,” she said. “I wanted to send her a message.”

“It doesn’t seem to have taken,” Blake said acidly. “If I need your help, I’ll ask for it. As I have done before. As I didn’t do this time.”

Sunset was quiet for a moment. “You can’t expect me to just let you face this alone.”

“Better that than what you call help,” Blake replied. “If you don’t realise that what you did was wrong, then… if you really are my friend, if what I want matters to you at all, if you really are different from Adam, then I want you to promise me something. Promise me that you won’t do anything about this. Promise me that you’ll let it go.”

“While you do what?” Sunset demanded. “Let them keep biting at you?”

“If that’s my choice,” Blake said.

Sunset wrinkled her nose. Her tail twitched behind her.

“Promise me, Sunset,” Blake insisted.

Sunset sucked in through her teeth. “Fine,” she said. “I promise. Nothing… nothing will come of this on my account.”

“Thank you,” Blake whispered. “I… it was wrong, you see that, don’t you? What you did, it wasn’t right?”

Sunset didn’t say anything for a moment. She turned away. “I’ll do my ironing later,” she said and stalked out of the laundry room. Blake heard her footsteps outside, moving away until she didn’t hear them any more.

I guess that’s a no, then.

How can you be so charming one moment and so ugly the next?

She was reminded of what Starlight had said: two souls, fighting for control over the body.

Blake let out a sigh as she picked up the falling ironing board and set it up against the wall. She put the iron away as well, before returning her attention to her own laundry and to the vandalised blouse. It would need re-washing, which would mean going back to get her detergent again. Which would mean explaining to Yang and the others.

I’ll just tell them my clothes were so filthy that they need more than one wash to get the stains out.

Hopefully, they’ll believe it.

This would mean leaving her clothes there for longer, and Blake was a little concerned about the fact that she might come back to even worse vandalism, but – while she planned to stay with them while they were washing this time – there wasn’t much she could do about the need for washing powder, and so, she closed the washing machine door, with her blouse back inside, and approached the door out of the laundry room.

The doorway was barred by Bon Bon before she could step out of it.

“Blake,” she said, in a voice that was hard and a little cold.

“Bon Bon,” Blake replied, her own tone even and without emotion. “Excuse me, please.”

Bon Bon didn’t move. She didn’t even give any sign that she had heard Blake speak.

Blake’s brow furrowed a little. “Let me by.”

“Have you got the message yet?” she demanded.

“So,” Blake said, “Sunset was right. It was you.” She couldn’t pretend to be too surprised, or too upset. She had lied to her teammates more than to any other students at the school, and she couldn’t affect amazement that at least one of them bore a grudge against her for that. For that matter, she knew that Bon Bon had taken the revelation about her past the hardest, so it wasn’t too much of a leap that she would take action against the object of her ire. They had never been friends; Blake had no right to treat this as some kind of a betrayal on Bon Bon’s part.

She would say that she was a little disappointed; based on what she had known of Bon Bon, she had thought the other girl was better than this.

It seems that we were both hiding who we really are.

“It’s the very least that you deserve,” Bon Bon said.

“Haven’t you heard?” Blake asked. “I was an Atlesian agent the entire time.”

“Don’t give me that!” Bon Bon snapped. “You were never any servant of Atlas; you were a criminal, a terrorist, a killer, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re still all those things.”

“Then you’re wrong,” Blake declared.

“I don’t think so.”

“Just because you think it doesn’t make it true,” Blake insisted. “I am a huntress in training, just like you-”

“You’re nothing like me!” Bon Bon snarled.

“No,” Blake murmured. “I suppose I’m not.” She hesitated, silent for a little while. “I… I’m sorry about what Sunset did to Lyra; she shouldn’t have been caught up in our quarrel. I didn’t ask for her to-”

“Sunset will pay for what she did,” Bon Bon vowed, “but at least she didn’t slit Lyra’s throat like you-”

“I would never have hurt Lyra or any other member of Team Bluebell!” Blake cried. “Nor any student at this school! I… I am more than what you think I am.”

Bon Bon folded her arms. “You may have fooled Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle, you may have fooled Pyrrha and Ruby, you might even have fooled Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood, but you haven’t fooled me.”

Blake took a deep breath. Clearly Bon Bon was beyond reasoning with on this point. “So,” she said, “have you come to give me the rest of what I deserve?”

Bon Bon’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to humiliate myself in front of your skill, give you an excuse to fight back because I threw the first punch? You must think I’m an idiot.”

“I don’t think that,” Blake said softly. “I think you’re a product of this world.”

“I’m looking out for the people who matter to me. I’m doing what’s right.”

“A lot of people think that; it doesn’t make it so,” Blake replied.

“You mean your terrorist friends?” Bon Bon demanded. She shook her head. “Our ancestors were stupid for making your people slaves. They should have exterminated you while they had the chance.”

Blake’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I said you people have caused nothing but trouble,” Bon Bon yelled. “Let’s forget about the White Fang for a moment, all the people that you kill, all the people you kidnap, all the things that you steal, all the businesses your burn down-“

“The White Fang are not the faunus-”

“So you say, and let’s forget about them for a minute; what do you people actually do?” Bon Bon demanded. “What good are you? What do the faunus do for the kingdoms other than moan and whine about how bad they have it? I mean give it a rest already!”

Blake found that her hands were curling up into fists by her side. Her breathing came slowly and more heavily. She had heard all this before, as a child growing up, moving around the four kingdoms with her parents; she had heard it when she was living in Mistral as part of the White Fang chapter there. She had heard it all before, but now, coming after the tolerance, the acceptance that she’d received at Beacon, from Team SAPR, from Yang, Ren, and Nora, from the Atlesians… it was like the old scars that she had carried on her soul had faded, and these new attacks, here in what she had come to think of as a safe haven.

“All that we ask,” she said, her words coming in harsh fits and starts, “are the same rights that you take for granted.”

“You don’t deserve the same rights as us,” Bon Bon sneered. “You’re just a bunch of animals!”

“Stop it!” Blake yelled. “That’s not true!”

“You belong in-”

“Drop it!” snapped the voice that Blake recognised as belonging to Starlight Glimmer, as Bon Bon’s words were cut off by a masculine cry of pain from outside the laundry room.

There was the sound of something hitting the floor, followed by Cardin saying, “Hey! Let go of me already!”

“I don’t think so,” Starlight snapped. “Come on, inside.”

Bon Bon was forced forwards by Cardin being shoved into her. They both tumbled forwards into the laundry room, causing Blake to use one of her clones to get out of the way. She reappeared on top of a washing machine as Starlight Glimmer – wearing her Atlas uniform and balancing a bundle of clothes in one arm – and Trixie Lulamoon – dressed as she had been for the mission, cape and all – followed Cardin and Bon Bon through the door.

“Trixie?” Blake asked. “Starlight?”

“Hello again, Blake Belladonna,” Trixie said, her voice rolling up and down like the tide.

“Hey, Blake,” Starlight said with a slight smile upon her face. “You need any help?”

“Uh, I’m not sure,” Blake murmured. “What are you two doing here?”

“The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie can always tell when a friend is in need,” Trixie declared.

Blake stared at her.

“Plus, Starlight has laundry after crawling through that drain,” Trixie added, in a less grandiloquent tone, “and all the machines in our building were already in use.”

“So,” Starlight said, brandishing a scroll in one hand, “let me guess: you were hoping to goad Blake into starting a fight which you would then capture on video as proof of what a savage animal she is.” She glanced at Blake. “No offence, I’m just-”

“Trying to capture their words, yes, I know,” Blake acknowledged.

“So?" Starlight demanded. “Do I have it right?”

“Bon Bon, I’m astonished!” Trixie cried melodramatically. Her smile was a little sly as she continued, “What would Twilight Sparkle say if she heard your spouting such foul sentiments?”

“I didn’t mean it,” Bon Bon protested. “I was only saying it to get a rise out of her.”

“I’m not sure that would make much difference,” Starlight growled. She turned her attention to Cardin. “And you-”

“She doesn’t belong here!” Cardin snapped.

“Blake helped save an entire village today,” Trixie declared. “She was almost as much of a hero as the Great and Powerful Trixie!” She flung out one hand, and a single miniature firework burst above her open palm. “What have you done recently?”

Cardin growled. “She’s White Fang! You’re from Atlas, you should-”

“Should what?” Starlight snarled with a ferocity that silenced him. “Should hate faunus? Should judge people just because of how they were born?”

Trixie folded her arms. “Besides, Blake Belladonna was an Atlesian spy infiltrating the White Fang. Any idiot knows that.”

“You can’t possibly believe that, Trixie!” Bon Bon cried. “That’s obviously just a cover story they made up!”

“Oh, really. Can you prove that?”

“I…” Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. She let out a wordless hiss of irritation before conceding, “No. No, I can’t.”

“It doesn’t matter if we can prove it or not!” Cardin snarled. “Every word that she said is true: they’re just a bunch of filthy animals; they don’t deserve to live amongst civilised people.”

“There’s nothing civilised about you or your attitudes,” Starlight said, throwing Cardin’s scroll at him and forcing him to catch it clumsily with both hands. “I think you ought to leave. Now.” She took a step forward, her blue eyes narrowing. “And if I hear any more about you giving Blake a hard time, then what Sunset Shimmer might do will be nothing compared to what I do to you two! Now beat it!”

They retreated, Bon Bon swiftly and Cardin with more reluctance, but they both left. Cardin slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Blake, Trixie, and Starlight in the room.

“If I came on too strong on your behalf, I’m sorry,” Starlight said. “I just can’t stand people like that.”

“I’m not sure that I’d want you to actually do anything to them,” Blake murmured. “But… thank you, for sticking up for me. Especially since we only really met today.”

Starlight smiled. “Sometimes, a day is all it takes. Especially when it’s a day like we’ve had. A day where you did really good.”

“Trixie meant what she said; you were almost as impressive as I am,” Trixie said. “And that’s not praise that the Great and Powerful Trixie accords to just anyone.”

Blake chuckled, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m duly appreciative.”

“You’d better be,” Trixie replied haughtily.

Starlight shook her head. “You did good out there today, Blake. A little crazy, but good. Not many people would have the guts to pull a stunt like that.”

Blake shrugged her shoulders as she hopped down off the washing machine. She noticed that, resting on top of Starlight’s bundle of clothes, was a box of detergent. “Do you mind if I borrow a little of that?”

“How would you give it back?” Trixie asked.

“Right,” Blake murmured. “Can I have a little of that?”

“Of course,” Starlight said. “Need another wash to get those stains out?”

“Bon Bon and Cardin left me with a couple of extra stains,” Blake informed them.

Starlight frowned. “And you still don’t want anything to be done to them?”

“It’s not worth it,” Blake replied.

Starlight set her clothes and washing powder down on top of one of the machines. “It’s not, or you’re not.”

Blake blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you were lucky today,” Starlight explained. “Very lucky. If you had had a little less aura left, the blast would have killed you.”

“So long as the people survived, it would have been worth it.”

Starlight and Trixie looked at one another. Starlight said, “It can’t be easy, being here, after everything you’ve been through.”

“You could say that.”

“I suppose you have an idea of who you’re supposed to be, and the fact that other people don’t see you that way makes you desperate to prove to them that you are that person, that you’re more than what they think you are,” Trixie said. “Trust us, we get it.”

“And yet, you also think I’m crazy,” Blake pointed out.

“Does it matter if everyone finally believes you’re the hero you are in your own head once you’re too dead for them to admit it?” Trixie asked.

“It’s not about that,” Blake insisted.

Trixie raised her eyebrows.

“People’s lives were at stake!” Blake cried. “Isn’t that something worth dying for?”

“Sure,” Starlight agreed. “But most people wouldn’t be so… lacking in hesitation. Most people wouldn’t be so quick to let their antagonists walk away without consequence.”

Blake grasped at her honour band with her other hand. “I’m a faunus,” she said. “I’m a faunus who half the school believes used to be a member of the White Fang. I have to be twice as brave, twice as fearless, twice as forgiving in order to get half as much credit as a human would. That’s something I don’t think either of you could understand.”

“I understand what it’s like to be feared and hated,” Starlight said. “To be met with mistrust simply because of who I am.”

Blake thought for a moment. She thought about her own reaction to Starlight’s hand going anywhere near her. “Your… I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Semblance-stealing semblances aren’t cute, I know,” Starlight finished. “There’s something not right about them. Something… evil. So I’ve been told.”

Blake closed her eyes. “Like I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I can’t imagine how much I-”

“It’s fine,” Starlight said, “I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t make it right that I should become one more in a long line of people to make the same assumptions about you that I hate when people make about me,” Blake said. “Although it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made thoughtless assumptions about others around here.”

“So we’ve heard,” Trixie said dryly.

Blake laughed nervously. “You asked Twilight about me before the mission?”

“Well, you were going to be part of our team,” Starlight explained.

“And yet, you still defended me?”

“Of course we did!” Starlight declared. “You’re one of us now.”

“I’m actually not,” Blake pointed out. “At least, not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Trixie smirked. “Just give it time,” she said. “You are one of us, Blake Belladonna; you just haven’t accepted it yet.”

I’m not so sure about that, Sunset thought, as she lurked out of sight. Specifically, she was lurking in the boiler room just down the corridor, suffering from surprisingly little excess heat.

She had seen Bon Bon coming before Bon Bon saw her, and seen the looming form of Cardin Winchester behind her, and since Sunset had no interest in an open confrontation with them – not because she was afraid of those two clowns, but because she wasn’t sure that Blake would believe she hadn’t started it – and so, she had scrambled into the boiler room with the door only slightly ajar, so that she was not seen as she squatted in the gloom with the boilers, but she could hear what was going on not far away.

It had been clear to her – as it had been clear to the Atlesian student Starlight Glimmer – what Cardin and Bon Bon had, between them, been up to. Unlike Starlight, Sunset had not made any move to intervene to help Blake deal with it. After all, Blake had already made it very clear that she didn’t want Sunset’s help. She wanted to deal with things on her own. Very well then, let her deal with it.

That… that was unfair. And unkind. And an intentional misreading of what Blake had said. But what Blake said had hurt. It had been a slap in the face to Sunset’s pride, and that wounded pride didn’t much feel like putting itself out there for Blake again so soon if its only reward was to be compared to Adam and told that she was a bad person for caring about a friend.

But at the same time, she was Blake’s friend. She was Blake’s friend even if Blake herself thought ill of Sunset, and so – while she had not gone to Blake’s aid – she had gotten out her scroll and recorded everything.

She wondered how Skystar would feel to hear her cousins described as ‘filthy animals.’

She had had nothing before. That was, no doubt, why Cardin had felt confident to be so brazen about Blake: he knew that Sunset couldn’t prove that he was a racist, at least not to the satisfaction of a girl who was besotted with him, and so, he thought her toothless and scorned her threats.

Well, he wouldn’t be so quick to scorn now, would he?

In the darkness, Sunset pondered her next move. She could confront Cardin with what she had and try to wring some advantage out of him… no. No, that would be to make the same mistake that Cardin had made with Jaune; that would only demonstrate a different kind of powerlessness, borne out of an unwillingness to cede her power and inflict the ultimate sanction on him. No, if she was going to use this, then she would have to use it, sending it to Skystar and possibly others.

But if she wheeled out Anon-a-Miss again, then Rainbow might take it poorly… or she might not, considering the egregious racism on display.

Or Sunset could not risk it and simply send the recording to Skystar. That would be less anonymous, but it would protect her from Rainbow’s wrath.

It might not, however, protect her from Blake. Blake had extracted a promise from Sunset and would probably expect Sunset to hold to it no matter what. She was, after all, that kind of person.

Do I want to help Blake, or do I want to keep Blake as my friend?

And is there a way I can do both?

She could, Sunset considered, do the whole thing anonymously – actually anonymously, not Anon-a-Miss-ly, har har – by sending the tape to the press. Assuming that the First Councillor’s daughter was actually someone they cared about, which was something Sunset wasn’t certain of at present.

And besides, while that might have the desired effect, the problem with anonymity was that the person you were getting back at didn’t know it was you. And if they didn’t know, then what was the point of revenge?

Yes, you theoretically got them back for whatever they had done, but it wasn’t enough that they be punished, that they suffer for their actions; they needed to know, even – especially – if they couldn’t prove it, that it was you, whom they had thought they could offend with impunity, that had struck back against their hubris.

They needed to know the debt was paid, or else it felt empty.

But is it worth losing Blake just for the satisfaction?

No. No, it isn’t?

Is it worth going against her will to help her out?

I… I don’t know.

So Sunset lurked in the darkness, and pondered upon the morality of revenge.

The Lion and the Unicorn (New)

The Lion and the Unicorn

“The next match,” Professor Goodwitch said, “will be between Sunset Shimmer and Arslan Altan.”

Sunset rose to her feet, adjusting the strap that held Soteria’s scabbard across her back.

“Be careful, Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured. “She’s the one I warned you about earlier.”

It took Sunset a moment to remember back to the start of the semester; so much had happened since then. “You mean the one who doesn’t like me?”

“The one you gratuitously insulted, yes,” Pyrrha replied. “Don’t underestimate her. She’s come closer to defeating me than anyone else I’ve ever fought.”

Sunset frowned. “Including me?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “That… would be difficult to say for sure.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sunset assured her. “I almost beat you, and she’s not as good as you are, so I’ll have no problem.”

Pyrrha frowned a little. “I’m not quite sure that logic holds up.”

“You can do it, Sunset,” Ruby declared.

“Good luck up there,” Jaune added.

“Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch demanded. “Will you be joining us?”

“Coming, Professor,” Sunset said, turning away from her team and making her way across the darkened floor of the amphitheatre towards the stage. She leapt up onto said stage in a single bound, Sol Invictus held in her hands. She nodded her head to Professor Goodwitch. “Just having a quick strategy session with my teammates.”

Despite that ‘strategy session,’ Sunset was still the first one to arrive onto the stage, waiting expectantly for her opponent to show herself. The delay was – in Sunset’s opinion – almost certainly because said opponent was spending time in the dark getting her big entrance ready.

Arslan Altan strutted onto the stage like a rock star, arms spread out low on either side of her as if she were running her fingers through water that only she could see or feel. Her olive green eyes sparkled with light from the cocksure smirk that besmirched her lips, and as she mounted the stage, a great roar of approval arose from the assembled Haven students. Fists were thrust into the air as voices cried out her name, called on her to kick ass, to win for Haven, for Mistral, to let the lion roar. Arslan’s smile widened, becoming a smile in truth instead of a smirk, and like a flower absorbs the sunlight so she seemed to drink up the energy and approval of the crowd, turning towards her supporters down below and in the gallery, raising her arms up high above her head to raise the volume up higher still.

“Quiet down, please, all of you,” Professor Goodwitch said, raising her voice above the tumult. She waited for the noise to die down, at least a little, before she added, “Miss Altan, please try to remember that this isn’t the Mistral Coliseum. In fact, that is something all Haven students should try to remember.” She swept her glare across them all, silencing the last of them who had dared to continue demonstrating their enthusiasm. “These bouts are not displays for your entertainment but for your education. Please take them seriously.”

“Believe me, Professor, there is nothing I take more seriously than a fight,” Arslan declared. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun, right?”

Sunset studied her opponent as Arslan began to limber up; she was about as tall as Yang and as broad in the shoulders as Rainbow Dash, not to mention darker than anyone that Sunset had seen outside of Atlas. She was dressed in a yellow-green robe with a white cuff around the one remaining loose sleeve on the right. The other sleeve – and much of the left-hand side of the robe – was absent for whatever reason, exposing the black tank top and pants she wore beneath, as well as the bandages around her wrist – and around her upper arm, above the elbow – in the place where Pyrrha and Blake wore their arm bands. A red sash, embroidered with an endless knot, was wrapped around her waist and dangled down almost to the floor. Around her neck, she wore a string of red beads- no, they were fire dust crystals, weren’t they? Something to be wary of, although Sunset couldn’t see any other weapon on her. Her hair was platinum blonde, cut short at the nape of the neck but worn in an untidy mop atop her head.

She settled in a low stance, her knees bent and legs spread apart, her palms unclenched but poised to strike, one held before her and the other drawn back and level with her eyes.

“Are you ready, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Sunset’s fingers shifted upon Sol Invictus. “Ready, Professor.”

“Miss Altan?”

“Ready, Professor,” Arslan said.

“Very well then,” Professor Goodwitch said, as she retired nimbly from the stage. “Begin!”

Arslan had been standing poised to attack, but now, as the signal came to start the fight, one hand flew to the necklace of fire dust crystals around her neck, ripping one and flinging it across the stage at Sunset, igniting it with her aura so that a blazing fireball streaked towards her.

Sunset conjured up a shield, the barrier of green energy forming before her just as the fireball struck, beating upon her magic but not denting it; the fire blossomed upon the barrier, providing a harmless light show for a moment before dissipating into nothing.

The death of the flame revealed Arslan charging, one fist drawn back, the smile on her face replaced with a look of intense concentration as she swiftly – she was almost as fast as Pyrrha – closed the distance between them.

Sunset kept her shield up. If Arslan wanted to approach just like Pyrrha, then she would begin just like she had with Pyrrha; she’d let her shield take the first punch and then erupt it outwards to knock the proud Haven challenger on her backside. And unlike Pyrrha, Arslan didn’t have a gun.

She could already see how this battle was going to go.

A roar ripped from Arslan’s throat as she swung her fist straight at Sunset’s shield. Her knuckles struck the gleaming green barrier, and Arslan’s aura dropped into the yellow as Sunset’s shield shattered into so many pieces like glass.

Sunset’s eyes widened. She broke it… with her aura? But-

Arslan charged through, still yelling at the top of her lungs as she threw a second punch with her other hand, driving her fist straight into Sunset’s stomach. Shockwaves erupted from her hand, spilling off the stage and blasting across the watching crowd like a mighty wind as her aura dropped yet further.

Sunset would have doubled over if it weren’t for her cuirass; even with the armour on, her body bent as much as she was able to, the force of Arslan’s aura-enhanced blow rippling through the metal and through her body too. She could feel her aura being mashed by Arslan’s strength, she could feel her insides being rocked by it, and she could see herself flying as the force of Arslan’s attack blasted her backwards.

Sunset teleported before she could be knocked off the stage and the fight ended before it began. Wherever she reappeared, she would still be suffering the force, so she reappeared in mid-air, her whole body flying, upside down, her hair askew. For a moment, Arslan didn’t realise where she had gone, and in that moment Sunset, spread out her hands and fired magical bolts from her fingertips, green darts rapidly spitting down at Arslan as Sunset flew overhead.

Arslan shielded herself with both hands; that was as much as Sunset saw before the stage began to explode from the impacts all around her, showering Arslan with debris and obscuring her in the clouds of smoke from the explosions. Sunset risked a glance towards the aura board and saw that Arslan’s aura was going downwards.

Sunset cast an anti-gravity spell on herself, beginning to right her body as she hovered in the air above the smoke, palms out, watching for-

Arslan emerged from out of the smoke, carried by a great leap up into the air, flying towards Sunset like a missile. Sunset fired a blast of magic from her palm, which struck Arslan square in the chest, hurling her back downwards towards the ruined stage, but as she fell, she threw a knife attached to a rope at Sunset. It didn’t strike Sunset, but the rope wrapped itself tightly around Sunset’s vambrace. As Arslan fell, Sunset was pulled down with her, pulled down towards the stage, pulled down to where Arslan – who had hit said stage with a thump that had knocked some more of her aura off – was waiting for her with a punch to the face.

Sunset tried to block the blow, but it was hard to do when you were being literally hauled downwards towards your opponent, and the punch caught her square on the jaw, pounding her aura level down as Sunset was tossed aside, bouncing across the wreck that her magic had made of the stage before coming to a halt upon her back.

She knew from her fight with Pyrrha that she wouldn’t get the chance to lie down. She teleported to the other side of the stage; Sunset had lost her grip on Sol Invictus, but she summoned it with telekinesis into her hand as Arslan charged towards her.

The weapon reached her sweat-stained hands just in time. Sunset brought the rifle up, her breathing heavy. She snapped off one shot, then another; Arslan rolled aside, tossing another fireball Sunset’s way, and then a second. Sunset conjured a shield which absorbed both blasts, then disrupted it without waiting for Arslan to break through – she didn’t know if Arslan still had the aura left for that, but she wasn’t going to take any chances – the magic rippling outwards in a wave that would have blasted Arslan backwards if she hadn’t already leapt back out of range, sending another fireball Sunset’s way as the shield’s effects vanished.

Sunset threw herself to the ground – the part of the stage she was on now was largely untouched – and fired a third shot, which Arslan dodged.

Arslan charged. Sunset scrambled to her feet and fired the three remaining shots in the chamber of Sol Invictus. Arslan dodged them all, diving and rolling out of the way before rising up to continue her rush towards Sunset.

Sunset kept hold of the empty gun with one hand, as with the other, she ignited the fire dust layered into her jacket, the phoenix cape that would burn Arslan if she tried to strike her there. The flames of red and gold leapt up across her back and front, armouring her against an enemy who didn’t have the aura left to trade-off damage for damage like that.

Yet Arslan kept on coming.

Sunset extended the bayonet of Sol Invictus, the blade snapping outwards like a javelin as a spearshaft slid smoothly out from the stock of the gun. Arslan nimbly avoided the thrusting blade, her body twisting as she turned away, one hand snapping out to grab the shaft as it thrust past her. Sunset let go of the weapon, allowing Arslan to toss it aside. She threw her knife at Sunset, who blasted it away with a single blast of magic from her fingertip. More magical blasts split the stage where Arslan was standing. She leapt up, her whole body spinning, and began to descend for a kick aimed squarely at Sunset.

Sunset braced herself, bringing up her vambraces above her head, and with a touch of her aura, she ignited the lightning dust infused within them. It crackled and sparked, hissing eagerly, waiting for the moment when Arslan’s foot would-

Miss it, descending past Sunset’s face, past her whole body, as Arslan landed on the ground right in front of her.

She presented a perfect target. Sunset’s hand flew out: one blast, and she-

Arslan caught her with a spinning kick that cut her legs out from under her, the blow landing beneath Sunset’s jacket, where the flames did not protect her. Sunset yelped in alarm as the world flew sideways; she toppled over, long hair flying. She saw Arslan rise up over her, expression grim, fist poised to strike.

She did not strike; she held her open palm just above Sunset’s flames, as if she were daring herself to see how close she could get to the fire.

Sunset felt the blow nevertheless, a blast of Arslan’s aura hitting her in the chest, making her wince in pain, even through her breastplate, slamming her into the ground and making the stage crack beneath her.

The buzzer sounded.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Miss Altan, you are the winner.”

Sunset groaned as cheers rose from the Haven section of the watching students. Arslan remained standing over her, unable to keep a slight smirk off her face.

“You were right,” she said.

Sunset blinked up at her. “Huh?”

“You were right, in Grimm Studies on the first day of semester,” Arslan explained. “I’m not Pyrrha Nikos. But I am Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral, and don’t you forget it.” She held out one hand to help Sunset up.

Sunset took it. “You really have been carrying a grudge about what I said this entire time, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have!” Arslan declared, as she hauled Sunset onto her feet. “You insulted me!”

Sunset stared at her. She breathed in, and then breathed out again. She grinned. “Good for you,” she said, because it was nice to meet someone who held their pride as precious as she did and could remember the slights inflicted upon it for just as long. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

“That’s right,” Arslan declared. “You won’t.”

“Well fought, both of you,” Professor Goodwitch declared as she made her way back up onto the ruined stage. “Miss Altan, had you done any preparation for this match?”

Arslan hesitated a moment. “I, um, might have watched the video of Sunset fighting Pyrrha a few times,” she murmured.

“Make that a few dozen times!” someone shouted from out of the darkness.

“Who’s side are you on, Reese?” Arslan demanded.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Altan,” Professor Goodwitch informed her. “I hope you don’t mind me disclosing to the class that you requested this fight.”

“It’s a bit late to object now, isn’t it, Professor?” Arslan asked. “But no, I don’t mind. I wanted to show her that I wasn’t some chump to be dismissed so easily.”

Professor Goodwitch nodded her head slightly. “Miss Shimmer, were you aware that Miss Atlan desired to fight against you?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Pyrrha mentioned that she might, Professor.”

“And did you seek out any videos of Miss Altan’s fights to get a feel for her fighting style?”

Sunset looked down at the ground. “No, Professor.”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch repeated. “And that, more than any details of your individual performances, is why Miss Altan defeated you: preparation, forethought, planning. Having sought out a battle, Miss Altan researched her opponent and devised strategies to use against her, while Miss Shimmer did not.

“In the field as huntsmen, you will not always know what you are walking into,” Professor Goodwitch continued. “Unforeseen variables will arise on your missions, grimm that you did not expect may show themselves, but there will also be times when the situation is not completely unknown to you: you are pursuing a criminal with a bounty and a record, certain grimm have been reported in the area, and so forth. In those circumstances, rigorous preparation can mean the difference between victory and defeat, even between life or death. Thank you both; you may step down.”

There were many differences between Pyrrha and Arslan, but the one that had always stood out the most to Pyrrha herself was the way in which Arslan relished what might be called the perks of fame. As Pyrrha spotted her great rival on the way to the dining hall, she was surrounded not only by her own teammates but by a veritable entourage of hangers-on, all dressed in the uniform of Haven Academy. They seemed cheerful enough, given the way that they were all laughing at something that Arslan had just said – Pyrrha had been too far away to catch it – but as Pyrrha approached, she couldn’t help but wonder just how much of that was earnest laughter and how much of it was forced.

Flatterers were, in her opinion, almost as much of a bane as being put upon a pedestal and out of reach of all genuine contact.

“Arslan?” she asked, raising her voice a little to be heard over the hubbub. “May I have a word with you, quickly, before lunch?”

Many eyes turned to Pyrrha, not only Arslan’s but those of her team and those who thronged around her. Most of those gazes were respectful, some were even deferential – which made Pyrrha want to look away – but some verged upon hostility. Pyrrha couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to offend them.

Arslan herself did not look hostile, thankfully. She didn’t smile, exactly, although it seemed as though she might do so; she nodded. “Sure thing, P-money. I’ll see you guys inside, okay?”

“Are you sure?” asked one of her teammates, a tall, dark-haired young man.

“Yes, I’m sure, go on,” Arslan said, shooing them off with one hand before she strode off the path and across the grass towards where Pyrrha stood under the shade of a convenient tree. “Sorry about that,” she said, speaking softly as her entourage passed by. “Some of them…”

“Don’t like me very much,” Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan winced. “You can’t honestly be too surprised about that,” she said. “I mean, you did ditch your own kingdom.”

“Because I attended Beacon instead of Haven?” Pyrrha asked.

Arslan nodded, leaning her shoulder against the tree. “You can’t have missed the fact that it was a big deal when people found out about it.”

“I felt – I still feel – that it was made a much bigger deal of than it warranted,” Pyrrha replied, her voice even softer than Arslan’s. “Why should it matter where I choose to go to school?”

“Come on, P-money, you know how this works,” Arslan replied. “Everything that we do matters. Everything that you do matters most of all, because you’re the champ, and the princess, what’s more.”

“I’m not a princess.”

“Tell that to the press and the fans,” Arslan muttered. “Besides, if it doesn’t matter where you go to school, then why didn’t you go to Haven?”

“Because…” Pyrrha hesitated, choosing only the reason that Arslan would actually understand. “Because Beacon has a better reputation.”

“Yeah, and don’t we know it too,” Arslan said. “You could have changed that; people were expecting you to change that. This was supposed to be Haven’s year, like it hasn’t been in… ever. You and me, an all-Haven final, wouldn’t that have been something special for the folks back home?”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. “You do realise that there is so much more to our education than the Vytal Festival? The tournament is an ornament to our time here, not the purpose of it.”

Arslan folded her arms. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you? I wasn’t certain, but you’re actually taking this seriously.”

Pyrrha blinked. “You thought that I was… what? A dilettante? Did you think that I was going to spend four years here and then retire to my family fortune?”

“No, I thought you were going to spend four years here, try and notch up a couple of Vytal victories, and then come back to the arena like me.”

“You’re not going to become a huntress?” Pyrrha asked.

“No,” Arslan said, her voice rising, her tone conveying just how absurd she found the idea. “Why would I?”

“Because you’re training to become one?” Pyrrha suggested, a little more sharply than she had intended.

“I’m here for the Vytal Festival,” Arslan declared. “There is no other reason. You have to be a student at one of the academies to compete, so here I am,” – she spread her arms out wide on either side of her – “a student. And I’ll be a student until my second Vytal tournament is done, and then I’ll-”

“Drop out?” Pyrrha asked. “Leave your teammates to carry on without you?”

Arslan frowned. “Are you judging me, P-money?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I am, and where does that name even come from?”

Arslan shrugged. “Does it bother you?”

“A little.”

“Good, that’s why I keep using it,” Arslan replied quickly.

A sigh escaped from Pyrrha’s lips.

“Oh, don’t sigh like that; it’s not like any of the ways I tried to needle you ever caused you to slip up in the arena,” Arslan said. “I wish they had.”

“You do realise that we’re not in the arena now?”

“Oh, really, that explains the lack of a crowd.”

“My point is, can’t you please drop it?” Pyrrha asked.

“You think I’m faking this?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’ll never tell,” Arslan replied. She grinned. “Come on, Pyrrha, you know that if we break character, some of the magic goes away; who knows where a fan might be watching?”

Pyrrha sighed again. “You really don’t intend to become a huntress? You intend to go back to the tournament circuit?”

“And you don’t?” Arslan demanded. “You’re going to give up the arena, and all that you mean to so many people back home?”

“I’m going to defend humanity,” Pyrrha declared. “I’m going to defend the world against the darkness that surrounds it.”

“That’s what I said,” Arslan growled. “You just tried to justify it with a lot of fancy words.”.

“Are you angry?”

“Yes, I’m angry; I’ve a right to be angry!” Arslan snapped. “You can’t do this to me, Pyrrha.” She stalked off, walking a few paces before turning around, a scowl upon her face. “You cannot do this! You can’t just walk away before I’ve beaten you!” She took a deep breath. “You know that I’m not entered into this year’s tournament.”

“Neither am I,” Pyrrha said.

“I know you’re not; that’s why I’m not entering either. Professor Lionheart told me that if I wanted it, he’d make special arrangements for me to fly back for the tournament, clear it with Professor Ozpin and everything,” Arslan said. “I told him, ‘thank you, sir, but no thanks.’”

“You didn’t want the special treatment.”

“That’s not it at all,” Arslan said. “You really don’t get it, do you? Three years in a row, I’ve placed second to you. If I won this year, and I didn’t face you, then the whole rest of my career, I’d have been dogged by people saying ‘oh, Arslan isn’t the real champ; she never beat Pyrrha Nikos’ or ‘the Invincible Girl would have taken it home again if she’d only bothered to show up.’ I stayed away because I didn’t want people to think that I’d won by default, that I waited until you were out of the picture to snatch the laurels that were rightfully yours. Only, that’s exactly what you’ve condemned me to do. That’s exactly what’ll happen when I finally take home the crown: I won’t be the Champion of Mistral; I’ll be the second place who hung around until the real champion quit so I could win by default. I didn’t think you hated me like that.”

“That’s not my intent,” Pyrrha said. “But it’s also not my fault.”

Arslan shook her head. “You always were an amateur,” she muttered. “A talented amateur, but an amateur nonetheless.”

“I intend to be a professional huntress,” Pyrrha replied.

Arslan scowled. “Why? Why would you want to walk away from everything you are for the sake of… of this?”

“Because it’s important,” Pyrrha said. “More important than any trophy or contest that I could ever win. Because I’m defending humanity, and what’s more important than that?”

“Come on, Pyrrha, you’re already a hero; we both are.”

“Is that so?” Pyrrha asked. “Is that really what you think? I… I’m afraid I can’t agree with you on that. I… I certainly won’t deny that I would like to be a hero, perhaps even the hero. I won’t even deny that that is my goal, but would I call myself a hero now? No. No, I would not; certainly, I would not accord myself that honour based upon my tournament victories.”

“Go on TV and tell that to all the kids who look up to you,” Arslan told her. “Stand on the stage at FanExpo and tell everybody dressed up like you that you’re not a hero and they’re a bunch of suckers for thinking differently. Does anybody get dressed up for a huntress? Does anybody wait in line to have their photos taken with huntresses?”

“Perhaps not, but huntsmen and huntresses save the lives of those who do not dress as them or wait in line for photographs,” Pyrrha said. “As we did over the vacation.”

“Yes, well, somebody had to do that, I will admit,” Arslan conceded. “And you did it very well, I’m sure, in that practically perfect in every way manner of yours that is so deeply and incredibly frustrating. My point is that it didn’t need you to do that; a lot more people could have taken care of that grimm than can get the crowd up on their feet like we can. Although… I have to admit there is one thing that has been eating at me about that grimm business.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t Professor Lionheart ask me for help?” Arslan asked. “I was home in Mistral for the vacation; I spent it with my folks in the new house I bought for them on the eastern slope.”

It was possibly rather rude, but Pyrrha couldn’t help but suggest, “Perhaps Professor Lionheart is aware that you’re not taking your studies particularly seriously.”

Arslan glared up at her for a moment. “I suppose I deserved that,” she conceded. “But if Professor Lionheart thinks anything bad about me, then he’s kept it quiet; every time he sees me, he fawns all over me, tells me how well I’m doing, what a great student I am. It’s all a bit much, to tell you the truth.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan let out a bark of laughter. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I don’t know; maybe he just forgot where I live. It is kind of weird, though, right? I mean, I’m not the only student who lives in Mistral, and I’d have gone on a hunt with you.”

“It does seem a little strange,” Pyrrha conceded. “But we must hope that he has a good reason for his decisions. In any case, with what happened at Mistral – with what’s happening in Vale – we need more good huntsmen in Remnant now, not less. We might not be able to save the world, but we can at least save someone, and that’s something that I couldn’t say if I went back to the arena.”

“Huntsmen might be needed, but that doesn’t mean that you or I have to do it, or that what we do doesn’t mean anything,” Arslan said. “Yes, there aren’t real lives on the line, but so what? When we put on our costumes and step into the ring, we’re what every kid in Mistral aspires to be, and I don’t know about you, but that matters to me.

“I didn’t grow up near the peak of the mountain; I grew up in the foothills, on the lower west side. Our next door neighbour sold drugs out of his bungalow until the Vacuan mob moved in and cut his fingers off. At night, we could hear battles between the Vacuans and the local crooks. There were days when my mother went hungry so that I could eat dinner. By rights, I should be dead or in jail or hooked on something, but I got out. And when kids whose mothers go hungry so that they can eat dinner see me fight in the coliseum, they know that they can get out too, that it’s not hopeless, that their lives can be better if they work hard and hold onto their dreams. That’s not nothing, and that’s something they wouldn’t get if I turned my back on it to go fight grimm.”

“That is… there is some force in what you say,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “A great deal of it in fact. So much that I apologise; I should not have been so disapproving… although-”

“You still don’t like it.”

“If you never had any intention of becoming a huntress, I think you should not have taken a spot at the academy which might have been filled by someone more committed to the cause,” Pyrrha said. “As things stand now, your teammates will face their final year – plus the rigours of the field – with only three people where there should be four.”

“Hmm,” Arslan murmured. “Right. I, uh… I didn’t exactly think of that. I… they’ll be fine. They’re all… they’ll be fine.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha murmured. “As for the rest… none of what you say applies to me. Compared to you, compared to most people, I grew up in unimaginable privilege. I can’t imagine that I’m an inspiration to-”

“Don’t be disingenuous; you know exactly how big of an inspiration you are to so many people,” Arslan said sharply. “You know how many people are going to be crushed when you announce your retirement?”

“They’ll recover in time, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said softly. She smiled slightly. “Especially since they will still have you to look up to.”

Arslan snorted. “Stop it, P-money, you’re going to make me blush.” She paused. “So, what did you actually want?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“You asked me over here, and then we got sidetracked.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Pyrrha said. She let out a little nervous laugh. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No problem; it was probably my fault as much as yours.”

“I wanted to congratulate you on your victory,” Pyrrha said. “You fought very well.”

“I always fight well,” Arslan replied.

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” Pyrrha said quickly.

“I know, I’m just messing with you.”

“Will that be an end to it?”

“Of me messing with you? Don’t be daft.”

“Of your grudge against Sunset,” Pyrrha clarified.

“Oh, sure!” Arslan declared. “She insulted me; I avenged the insult. We’re all square now. She’s not going to hold a grudge against me, is she?”

“I shouldn’t think so, no.”

“Good,” Arslan said. “Because I kind of like her.”

“You’re not the only one,” Pyrrha murmured.

“She’s pretty impressive,” Arslan said. “But all the same…”

Pyrrha frowned. “All the same what?”

“That sword she was wearing,” Arslan said. “People have noticed it. They say that it’s important somehow. Some relic of your family.”

“Soteria,” Pyrrha said. “It’s from the Great War; it was carried by one of the Imperial bodyguards. It… was a princely gift, of my mother’s to Sunset.”

“It’s an unpopular gift,” Arslan said. “People don’t like it.”

“Perhaps people should mind their own business,” Pyrrha said.

“Don’t look at me; I’m just reporting common room gossip,” Arslan insisted. “You want to be careful, Pyrrha; spitting on Mistral to attend Beacon, giving a family heirloom to an outsider-”

“I didn’t spit on anything, and my mother is free to bestow-”

“I’m just telling you what some people think,” Arslan told her. “Plus, you’re dating some Valish oaf-”

“Jaune is not an oaf!” Pyrrha cried, anger entering her voice now. “And I will thank you not to refer to him that way again in my presence, even if you are only repeating what others have said. He is good and kind and brave, and he is worth ten of any of those who slander him!”

She covered her mouth with one hand, feeling a little embarrassed at the way that her words had run away from her like a train with no breaks. The very thought of what people might be saying about Jaune, how much they might be misjudging him, underestimating him… she could barely stand to so much as imagine it.

Arslan raised both hands pacifically. “Fine, if it means that much to you… you won’t hear the like from me again.”

“It does, he does,” Pyrrha said. “And thank you.”

“All the same,” Arslan said. “You want to be careful. I know you’ve never been big on brand management, but it’s not a good look to be seen to forget where you came from.”

“I’m not here to be popular,” Pyrrha said, “and I’m not going to let public opinion dictate my choices.”

“That’s all well and good, but there might come a time when you need the public on your side,” Arslan said, “and some won’t forget if you’ve delivered the Vytal crown to Beacon and Vale in that time.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Who knows?” she said. “You might defeat me and deliver it to Haven, in spite of me and my betrayal.”

A smile spread across Arslan’s face. “Well, you can bet your ass I’m going to try.”

“So,” Cinder drawled. “What’s it like to lose?”

“You ask me that as though it’s the first time I’ve lost,” Sunset replied.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you lose,” Cinder said.

“It may surprise you to learn that my life didn’t start when I met you.”

“Really?” Cinder asked, as though the information was genuinely new and shocking to her. “Did it at least get more entertaining?”

The sun was going down, and the two of them sat on the cliffs not far from the docking pads. A Skybus took off not far away, its engines droning as it started its flight for Vale; the sky was red as the sun descended, casting the Atlesian airships in a scarlet hue, as though the hulls had been drenched in blood.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Sunset said. “Losing, I mean. Professor Goodwitch was right: she’d done her homework, and I hadn’t.”

“For what it’s worth, you ran her very close in spite of that fact,” Cinder murmured. “One more hit, and she would have been out.”

“But I didn’t get that one hit,” Sunset reminded her. “So… I’m not bothered about losing to Arslan Altan except…”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Except?”

“Except that it shows that I’m not where I need to be,” Sunset declared. “I, we, have real enemies, serious enemies; they’re the ones it bothers me that I can’t beat.”

“I can understand,” Cinder said softly. “There is nothing worse than feeling powerless, living in fear of another and all that they might do to you and you would be helpless to resist it.”

Sunset glanced at her. “Need to vent about something?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “No,” she said eventually. “Such things are behind me now. I merely meant to point out that I understand where you’re coming from.” Her lips twitched. “But that’s not the only thing that’s bothering you this evening, is it?”

Sunset snorted. “Blake isn’t very happy with me right now.”

“Because you tried to help her?”

“Because of the manner in which I did it,” Sunset replied.

Cinder hesitated. “You may have to explain this to me, because I don’t quite understand what you did wrong.”

“I think that if I completely understood what I did wrong, then I probably wouldn’t have done it,” Sunset replied. “But… well, there’s the fact that Lyra didn’t actually do anything to Blake, and even if she had, I’m not sure that Blake would have appreciated me taking action without asking her first.”

“You’re supposed to ask permission before defending her?”

“I’m not supposed to presume that I can act on her behalf as though I know her mind,” Sunset explained. “At least, I think that’s what it is.”

Cinder sighed, shaking her head sadly. “Such ingratitude. Such folly. If I were in difficulty, it would give me great comfort to know that you would come rushing to my aid the moment I required it.”

“Yes, well, Blake…” Sunset trailed off. Blake’s secrets weren’t hers to reveal. “Blake has her reasons.”

“It doesn’t make them good reasons.”

“Maybe, but so what?” Sunset asked. “Her wishes are hers, and she has the right to them.”

“So you’ll abandon her?” Cinder asked. “Leave her to face the slings and arrows all by herself.”

“If that’s what she wants.”

“Just because she wants it doesn’t make it good for her.”

“No, but… but if I do something without asking, again, after she’s told me… I’m afraid I’ll lose her,” Sunset muttered. “And that… that matters to me. That matters more to me than…”

“More than your desire to protect her?” Cinder asked.

“What’s the point in helping her if she doesn’t want anything to do with me afterwards?”

“Why need she know?” Cinder suggested.

Sunset frowned. Cinder’s words were certainly very tempting; they accorded so well with her own thoughts, they reminded her of the recording which she had on her scroll... but at the same time, they called to mind Blake’s own words, spoken in the laundry room.

If you really are different from Adam, then I want you to promise me something.

“It’s all immaterial now,” she said. “I made a promise.”

“To Blake?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied. “I promised her that I wouldn’t do anything about this.”

“She needn’t know if you break that, either.”

“I’ll know,” Sunset said firmly. “I made a promise, I gave Blake my word; I won’t break that, even for her own good, I can’t.”

Cinder stared into Sunset’s eyes. “So you’ll give your life for those who matter to you, but you won’t break your word for them? Is this an ethical line, or… something else?”

“It’s an issue of trust,” Sunset said. “Blake trusts me to do what I say I’ll do, and if I stop, if she can’t rely on me, then… I’m Blake’s friend because she knows she can rely on me. Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, they all know they can rely on me. They can rely on me to fight with them, to fight for them, to protect them as best I can, to lead them as best I can, and to keep my word to them. I have to be reliable, even if it’s against my better judgement.”

“I… see,” Cinder murmured, her voice barely audible. She chuckled. “It is a pity, though; you enjoyed your taste of revenge, didn’t you?”

Sunset hesitated. “Yes,” she admitted. “But some things…”

Cinder waited for a moment. “Yes?”

Sunset pursed her lips together. What she was considering, what she had in her mind, it might be considered a breach of her promise to Blake.

But, on the other hand, it might be considered nothing to do with Blake whatsoever. It might be considered to be helping Skystar.

“Tell me something,” Sunset asked, “if your boyfriend were really a racist, and you had faunus friends, or relatives, wouldn’t you want to know about it?”

“I think I’d want to know everything about my significant other,” Cinder replied. “I’d want to know what they really thought… and what they were really capable of.”

Sunset nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. There are times when I wish someone would have told me what Flash really was before I got in deep with him. It would have spared me a lot of feelings down the line if I’d just avoided him.”

Cinder chuckled. “It’s funny, isn’t it, the way that men allow such small and petty things to distract them from some of the most excellent women in the world and fawn upon… decidedly inferior creatures for a host of small and superficial reasons?”

“I have plenty of superficial reasons, I will have you know,” Sunset declared, preening her hair with one hand. “But… thank you, for that.”

“I speak only the truth,” Cinder declared, “but you’re welcome anyway. But what does this have to do with Cardin or Blake?”

“I have a recording, of Cardin and his new best buddy Bon Bon expressing some vile and shocking sentiments towards Blake, not just on account of her past but also of her race.”

“And this will harm him because-?”

“Because his girlfriend has two faunus cousins, with whom she seems close,” Sunset explained. “Close enough, at least, that Cardin hides his true feelings on them and is afraid of what will happen to his relationship if he is discovered.”

Cinder grinned. “How delicious,” she declared. “Sunset, you mean to say you’ve been carrying that around in your back pocket all this time?”

“I’ve never had proof that would convince a lovestruck girl,” Sunset replied. “It seems that he’s finally figured that out and decided to call my bluff.”

“They’re very close?”

“Without a recording, it would be like trying to convince Pyrrha that Jaune was cheating on her.”

“Ah,” Cinder said. “A challenge indeed.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Sunset declared.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cinder replied, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“Good,” Sunset said firmly. “I mean it. They both… they’re both too invested in this; I won’t have it ruined for them.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “I would never dream of crossing you like that, or striking against your team in any way,” she said softly. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

Sunset stared into her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I believe you.”

“But your defence of love does not extend to Cardin?” Cinder asked.

“Nope,” Sunset said. “I’m going to screw him over and make sure that Skystar never wants to see him again.”

“She’ll be hurt,” Cinder pointed out. “As you were hurt when you discovered the truth.”

She wasn’t wrong about that, even if Sunset hadn’t thought about it that way until now. She hesitated, her hand freezing in the act of reaching for her scroll. She thought about how she’d felt when Flash broke up with her, when her world fell apart; there was definitely a part of her which would have rather gone on in blissful ignorance if it meant that she got to keep Flash by her side. “You don’t think that I should do it?”

“I didn’t say that; I just want to make sure you understand.”

Sunset inhaled, and then exhaled again through her nostrils. If she did this, if she exposed Cardin to Skystar by whatever means, then Skystar would be heartbroken; possibly, she would also be humiliated. Certainly, she would think herself a fool for not having noticed it before; Sunset knew that from experience.

She thought of the First Councillor’s daughter: sweet and bubbly, her smile struck down and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

She thought of Skystar cowering away from Blake.

She thought of Cardin doing worse to Blake, and other faunus besides, and compounding his crimes with the sin of hypocrisy.

Cardin deserved his comeuppance; he deserved to have Sunset give it to him. Sunset… Sunset wanted to give it to him.

And Skystar… she’d thank Sunset eventually.

Probably.

Maybe, once she got over it.

Sunset got out her scroll.

Resolution (New)

Resolution

This was Weiss’ first time in Professor Ozpin’s office.

Up until this point, as she stepped out of the elevator with Cardin and Bon Bon – the latter keeping a discrete distance, and at this point, she wished that Cardin would keep his distance too – she had felt slightly envious of the fact that others, like Sunset Shimmer, had been called into the headmaster’s presence so regularly while she had not received one iota of his attention. It was petty, and very unbecoming of a Schnee, to be so jealous, but nevertheless, she did feel a twinge of jealousy towards the faunus girl: Weiss was as hard-working as she was, as intelligent as she was, had a semblance as versatile as hers, was arguably more talented in combat than the other team leader was; for whatever it might be worth, Weiss was as fair as she was too. And yet, Sunset Shimmer had fallen head-first into the leadership of the most talented team in the freshman year – not just at Beacon, but arguably in all four academies; with all their guests, it was still difficult to think of a team that could touch them – she was popular, the centre of an expanding group that encompassed not just her own team but the Atlesian Team RSPT and Blake and the reformed Team YRBN as well. She had the favour of their teachers, being chosen for a special and especially long field mission without even remote supervision from a qualified huntsman or huntress. It was clear that somebody – perhaps Professor Ozpin himself – saw great things in her and in her team.

She had everything that Weiss had wanted when she had come to Beacon: recognition and respect, not on the basis of her name but on the basis of her quality.

Unfortunately, while Sunset had all of those things, Weiss was stuck leading a team of what could best be described as mixed quality and more accurately as a team of two halves, one good and one bad. She had one true friend here whom she could count upon. No teacher seemed to regard her as their favourite.

Yes, she was jealous of Sunset Shimmer, but she was aware of the fact that it was ugly feeling not for the public consumption, and so, she hid it perfectly, as she did everything… no. No, she couldn’t even think that with a straight face. If she had done everything perfectly, then she would not have been in this deplorable position.

She had failed as a team leader, and now, she was being confronted with the consequences of that failure.

In other circumstances, she would have welcomed being called into the headmaster’s office, seeing it as her finally being given her dues.

She did not feel like that now.

Now, she knew exactly why she – and Cardin and Bon Bon – had been summoned into Professor Ozpin’s presence. It was all she could do not to throw Cardin out one of the windows that ringed the perimeter of the high room.

A high room and a cold one. Weiss’ interactions with Professor Ozpin had been unfortunately limited, but there was a definite coldness to his bearing and expression that had not been there before. As he sat behind his desk, regarding her with a stern look and cold eyes, Weiss was reminded uncomfortably of her father.

She walked forwards, her wedge heels tapping lightly against the grey stone floor. Cardin and Bon Bon followed behind, the latter spreading out a little as she emerged out of the elevator.

Professor Ozpin watched them all and said nothing.

It was all Weiss could do not to bow her head and cringe before his distemper; with an effort of will, she forced herself to keep her head up high and her back straight; Professor Ozpin was not her father, and she had no need to fear him that way, whatever Cardin had done.

And if she was wrong about that, well… perhaps Haven would accept her as a transfer student. Gods knew they were probably desperate enough for talented students.

She hoped very much that it would not come to that.

By unspoken consensus, the three students came to a halt at an invisible line not far from the headmaster’s barren, empty desk. None of them said anything. The gears of the clock grinding overhead was the only sound in the room.

Weiss found that she could not meet Professor Ozpin’s gaze. She looked instead over his head, out the window, at the Atlesian cruiser gliding slowly and gracefully past the tower.

She rather wished that she were there right now.

“Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin said, with a voice that had little warmth. “Mister Winchester. Miss Bonaventure. Thank you all for coming.” He paused. “I trust that you all know why you are here?”

“Yes, Professor,” Weiss said, and now, she looked at him because it would have seemed rude not to. “And on behalf of my teammate, I would like to offer our sincerest apologies. I’m sorry that a member of Team Wisteria has brought the school into disrepute.”

“Thank you, Miss Schnee, but it is not the reputation of Beacon Academy that concerns me,” Professor Ozpin declared, his voice sounding a little – just a little – less stern for the moment. “Yes, the release of this audio has provided commentators with material for a week or two’s worth of columns – and doubtless, there will be a culture war backlash for about the same length of time after that – and it is a pity that certain alumni of the school have chosen to air their grievances now rather than coming to me when they were still students… but the reputation of Beacon is built on the quality of the huntsmen and huntresses that emerge from our halls, and that reputation will endure in spite of this. And besides, the reputation of the school is of little concern to me compared with the wellbeing of our students… and their conduct towards one another.” Professor Ozpin skewered Cardin upon his gaze. “Speaking of students waiting to air their concerns, Mister Winchester, I have been informed that this incident is not the first of such but merely the latest in a troubling pattern of behaviour where you are concerned.”

“Who-?” Cardin began.

“As you well know, Mister Winchester, the names of accusers are never given to those they accuse,” Professor Ozpin reminded him. “For reasons that are especially obvious in your case.”

Cardin hesitated, and Weiss took that moment of hesitation to speak. “What Cardin, and Bon Bon,” she added, with a venomous look at the other girl out of the corner of her eye, “said to Blake was unforgivable, Professor, but if I might point out that Blake herself didn’t report this to you.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “And how do you know that she didn’t, Miss Schnee?”

“Because you called us here to discuss a story that appeared in a gossip netzine, Professor, not a bullying complaint,” Weiss pointed out. “In any case, it appears that Blake didn’t find the matter to be worth raising.”

“No,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “But I think that Miss Belladonna, being a faunus, has less faith in the processes of justice here than I would like. In any case, her words are on the recording just as much as Mister Winchester’s and Miss Bonaventure’s; she is clearly distressed by the encounter in question. And, as you yourself said only a moment ago, what passed between you was unforgivable.” Once more, he turned his attention away from Weiss and towards the two who had actually done wrong. “And so, I will give you one chance, and one chance only, to explain yourselves and what motivated this outrageous conduct towards a fellow student.”

“She shouldn’t be a fellow student, Professor,” Bon Bon protested. “Knowing what she is-”

“Miss Belladonna’s past, whatever that past might be, is of no issue,” Professor Ozpin declared. “I have decided that she is and remains worthy of a place at this academy; that power is at my disposal and my discretion and mine alone.”

“What if she’s dangerous?” Cardin demanded. “Sky- the First Councillor’s daughter comes up to this school sometimes, as Amity Princess; what if Blake decided to kidnap her? What if she decided to go on a rampage?”

“I trust that you’re not suggesting that I would allow any student to remain at Beacon if I thought for one second that they posed a danger to their fellow students or anyone else, Mister Winchester,” Professor Ozpin said coldly. “Believe me, the fact that at no point during your altercation does your conduct audibly begin to escalate towards physical violence is the only reason I have not expelled you both already.” He paused. “But then, you knew that already, didn’t you? That was the lynchpin of your plan to goad Miss Belladonna into attacking you so that you could have her expelled.”

Once more, silence fell, until Bon Bon broke it by saying, “It wasn’t about race. We didn’t go after her just because she’s a faunus, but-”

“‘Our ancestors were stupid for making your people slaves. We should have exterminated you when we had the chance,’” Professor Ozpin read out, sounding as though it pained him to do so. “Forgive me, Miss Bonaventure, but that monstrous attitude certainly seems to be based in race.”

“We had to say extreme things in order to get a rise out of her; it doesn’t mean we meant them!” Bon Bon protested.

Professor Ozpin looked at her without replying. He looked at Cardin. “Is that your contention too, Mister Winchester? That you bear no racial animus to any faunus, but were motivated purely by a dislike for Miss Belladonna specifically?”

“That… that’s why we did it, yeah,” Cardin said, the words falling awkwardly from out of his mouth. Weiss would have known that he was lying, or at least failing to tell the whole truth, even if she hadn’t known by now just what he was and what he thought about the faunus.

Of course, knowing it, I should have done something about it instead of letting it get this far.

“That is not an answer to the question I asked, Mister Winchester,” Professor Ozpin said calmly.

Cardin hesitated. He shuffled uncomfortably on the floor, but he seemed unable to escape from Professor Ozpin’s gaze, or to deny it. Weiss wondered for a moment if the headmaster’s semblance was some ability to compel the truth, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. If there was any power at work here, it was only the headmaster’s will and strength of character being brought to bear on someone who had less of both.

Cardin squirmed as though his feet were on fire. “I… I don’t… it depends, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin continued to stare at him. “What depends on what, Mister Winchester?”

“The faunus,” Cardin declared. “Some of them act just like us, and that’s fine; my gi- the First Councillor’s niece and nephew are faunus, and I’ve got no problem with them. In fact, most of the time I don’t even see it; they act just like humans. But others, some of them won’t shut up about it, and others act so weird that it’s creepy. They act like animals! It isn’t right that the ones like that should be allowed to walk around with humans. They’re the ones who give the good ones a bad name!”

Weiss gritted her teeth and hoped that her discomfort wasn’t too visible on her face. Honestly, of all the ignorant, boorish things to say, you had to say that, didn’t you? It’s disgraceful! How can anyone think like that in this day and age?

Professor Ozpin was silent; perhaps he was even lost for words by Cardin’s combination of temerity and stupidity. “That is a remarkably asinine thing to say, Mister Winchester.”

“Are we not allowed to think as we please, Professor?” Bon Bon asked. “Are we not allowed to say what we think? Surely, a school should uphold the principles of free-”

“If you are seeking the rigours of academic debate unchained, Miss Bonaventure, might I suggest that you try King’s College?” Professor Ozpin suggested. “Why are you both here, at this school?”

“I’m here to become a huntsman, Professor,” Cardin said.

“And I a huntress,” Bon Bon replied.

“Are you?” Professor Ozpin inquired pointedly. He placed his hands upon the glass surface of his desk. “Huntsmen and huntresses are tasked with the protection of the world and all who dwell in it: human and faunus alike. How am I supposed to believe that you are equal to upholding that burden? How am I supposed to believe that you will fight and, if necessary, die for those that make you uncomfortable or to whom you see yourself as morally superior?”

“How are we supposed to trust that Blake will fight for humanity?” Bon Bon demanded.

“I believe she will,” Professor Ozpin said. “And if her recent conduct has not convinced you, I can only say that it has proved more than convincing enough for me. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of either of you. Give me a reason why you should both be allowed to remain at this school.”

“If I may, Professor,” Weiss said, taking half a step forwards. “It’s true that neither Cardin nor Bon Bon deserves to become a huntsman or a huntress.”

“Thanks a lot,” Bon Bon muttered.

“But, to be frank, Professor… neither do I,” Weiss said softly, forcing the words out because they were necessary. She had been a poor team leader – there was no denying that – and in doing so, she had probably proven herself to be a poor huntress too. Yet the first step to becoming a good team leader was not to disown Cardin but to rescue him, to be loyal to him as he had never been loyal to her. “Nor, with a few notable exceptions, do I think that any of our freshman class presently deserve the honour.”

Professor Ozpin inclined his head slightly. “As you say, there are notable exceptions, but I accept your point, Miss Schnee. Please continue.”

“I don’t have much more to say, Professor, except that the first year is not yet over,” Weiss reminded him. “We have more than three years to go before we graduate. I’ve already accepted that attitudes like the ones expressed by Cardin are disgraceful, and I’m ashamed that a member of my team feels free to say such things, but there are more than three years for Cardin and Bon Bon to learn better, to learn how to fight for the faunus as readily as they would fight for humanity. Just as I have more than three years to learn how to lead Cardin towards that goal. I’m asking for you to give them both – to give all three of us – a chance to learn, as we came to this school to do.”

Professor Ozpin did not immediately reply, although he kept his gaze locked with Weiss for all the time, that seemed so achingly slow, until he finally did speak. “You are correct, Miss Schnee; this is a school. A school which exists because we believe that heroes can be taught. A school which exists because we believe that the values that drive a huntsman are as important as their skills. And, since this is a school, I will give you all a chance to learn better; but, since this is a school, I will also punish you for the hideous conduct you have displayed. Mister Winchester, Miss Bonaventure, you are confined to the campus; you may not leave for any reason without the permission of a member of the faculty.”

“For how long, Professor?!” Cardin cried.

“Until further notice, Mister Winchester,” Professor Ozpin said coldly and without sympathy. “In addition, you will be serving detention every night for the next week with Professor Peach, while you, Miss Bonaventure, will be serving the same number of detentions with Professor Greene. Depending on what they report of your behaviour during those sessions, the number of detentions may increase. In addition, for the next two weeks at least, your Saturdays will be spent attending sensitivity training with Doctor Oobleck. That will be all; I suggest you return to your dorm rooms. Miss Schnee, please remain for a moment.”

“Of course, Professor,” Weiss said, her voice soft as Cardin and Bon Bon retreated back towards the elevator. Professor Ozpin said nothing further while they did so; he remained quite silent until they were gone.

Weiss had little objection to that. She could use the time to think about what she was going to say to Cardin later.

And how she was going to manage this.

Professor Ozpin stared at her. His expression seemed a little softer now than it had done when the other two were in the room. “You are an intelligent young woman, Miss Schnee, so I take it that you are not ignorant as to what some people are saying about this incident.”

Weiss took a breath. “I’m aware, Professor.” Between Cardin’s actions, the… behaviour – or at least the reputation – of the Schnee Dust Company, and the unfortunate death of Flash’s father – and the way that it had been appropriated by those who opposed faunus rights – there were some who were suggesting that Team WWSR might more accurately be known as Team BIGOT. “I… I hope that you don’t believe that.”

“I should very much like not to, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin said quietly.

Weiss frowned. Cardin was an ass in every conceivable way, true, but Flash… it was awkward to think about Flash right now. She didn’t think that he was bigoted against the faunus; he seemed to get on okay with Rainbow Dash, but on the other hand… what he’d said about why he broke up with Sunset… Was it possible that he simply hid his thoughts better than Cardin did?

No. No, she did not believe that. She had spent enough time with him to know what he was; he wasn’t hiding a detestable part of himself from her. Skystar had probably thought the same, but with all kindness, Weiss rated herself a better and a cannier judge of character than Skystar Aris.

She trusted Flash; he was a good man.

“What can we do to show you, Professor?” she asked.

“Avoiding any further incidents like this would be a good start, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“Yes, Professor,” Weiss muttered. She glanced down at the floor for a moment. “Professor Ozpin… I’m aware that I haven’t been the best team leader. If you were regretting putting me in charge of Team Wisteria, I wouldn’t blame you, but… I promise you, I will do better.”

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment, before he offered the very slightest of smiles. “I am very glad to hear it, Miss Schnee. How, if I may ask?”

Weiss blinked. “I… I think I need some advice,” she said, “from those who seem to be making a better job of it than I am.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Sometimes, admitting that we require assistance is the hardest thing of all to do.”

Especially when you’ve been brought up to equate it with weakness.

“However,” Professor Ozpin continued, “if I might offer you some advice of my own, and I appreciate that this may seem strange coming from me, but don’t be too hard on Mister Winchester.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “You’re right, Professor, that does sound strange coming from you.”

“Nevertheless, Miss Schnee, it is rarely a good thing for a leader to too openly consider themselves superior to those they lead and denigrate them in consequence.”

“Don’t you think that some behaviour deserves to be denigrated, Professor?”

“I think that if we all got precisely what we deserved, Miss Schnee, the world would be a very ugly place,” Professor Ozpin replied, “and I think that denigration engenders resentment, and it is very hard to follow a person one resents.”

Weiss considered that, and considered that she could see the logic behind it, even if she still believed that she was better than Cardin and had every right to see herself that way.

But seeing herself that way had not made her a good team leader, so maybe it was time to try something else.

Even if the prospect did revolt her, just a little.

“I will… bear that in mind,” Weiss said, which was about all that she could bring herself to say at this point.

“Please do, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin said. He paused. “You realise that, as Mister Winchester’s team leader, you must also bear some of the responsibility for this? I am afraid that we are past the point at which a plea of ignorance will suffice.”

“Meaning that if I had led my team better, this wouldn’t have happened, Professor?”

“It might not, certainly,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “Detention with Professor Port, Friday afternoon and evening. And I suggest that you pay attention; despite Professor Port’s manner, he does possess a great deal of wisdom.”

Weiss decided that lying that she always paid attention to Professor Port was unlikely to go down well with the headmaster. “I will. Thank you, Professor.”

“That will be all, Miss Schnee.”

She turned on her heel and walked briskly towards the elevator without looking back. Thankfully, there was more than one elevator leading up to the top of the tower, and she was not forced to wait for it to come back up from depositing Cardin and Bon Bon down at the bottom of the CCT; Professor Ozpin doubtless didn’t want anyone he had finished with idling in his office any more than they wanted to stay there waiting for a lift.

She climbed inside, and the metal box enclosed her as she pressed the button for the ground floor with a little more force than was perhaps necessary.

The elevator began to descend, thrumming as it passed floor after floor in its downward path.

Alone, unobserved, Weiss felt her hands clench into fists.

Professor Ozpin had advised her not to take too hard a line on Cardin, not because he didn’t deserve to have a hard line taken with him but simply because it would make it harder for her to lead him effectively if she did. That was good advice. That was sound advice. That was rational advice.

It was advice that seemed very difficult to follow because she felt like nothing more than screaming into his face.

Gods, what had she done to warrant this? What had she done to deserve – Professor Ozpin had spoken as though everyone got better than they deserved, but as far as Weiss was concerned, it was sometimes the complete opposite – such a boob on her team, reflecting upon her qualities and her potential? It was bad enough that he was lazy and academically incompetent, even when he roused himself to make an effort, but on top of that, he was personally unpleasant to be around – to say the least – and now, his overt racism had come to light and threatened to damage the whole team. To damage Weiss.

And for these many gifts that he had given her, she ought to treat him with kid gloves? It might be the best way to lead him, but that didn’t mean Weiss looked forward to the prospect.

How could he be this way? How could he act this way? How could he think this way?

Unfortunately, Weiss knew the answer to that last question rather too well. Cardin… Cardin was someone with whom her father might have found much in common.

Weiss shuddered. No, that was a little too hard on Cardin, who at least appeared to care about some people other than himself. He had cared about Skystar, at least.

Except that he’d lost her now, thanks to his own indiscretion.

Thanks to whoever leaked that audio.

Nobody knew who that was, and with what had been revealed in the audio, those with the most interest in discovering the truth had too much else occupying their attention to devote any time to it. Aside from Blake herself, the two Atlesian students who had come to rescue her were obvious candidates, and yet, the fact that neither Cardin nor Bon Bon had noticed them recording the conversation suggested it was not them – and in any case, why interrupt a conversation that you were merrily recording up until that point?

There was another obvious suspect – obvious, at least, in the sense that she had been named in the last embarrassing data leak connected to Bon Bon – and Weiss had to say that he wouldn’t put this sort of thing past Sunset Shimmer, but at the same time…

At the same time…

Did Weiss blame her for it? Or rather, since there was no proof that it was really her, would Weiss blame her for it if she were guilty? On the one hand, she had certainly caused some trouble for Weiss; on the other hand, she was doing it to help her friend Blake, which was admirable until you got to the fact that it was probably the least helpful way of helping imaginable.

The question of blame gave way to the question of envy, and Weiss was left once again to ponder how Sunset seemed to have so much while Weiss had so little, in spite of the fact that Weiss was, by any reasonable measure, a much better person.

Professor, you have it completely backwards when it comes to deservings.

Assuming, for the moment, if only because there were no other plausible suspects, that Sunset was the culprit, had she known what would happen when she released that audio?

Probably not; she struck Weiss as a rather short-sighted individual in many respects, and Weiss could quite believe that she had not thought any further than her revenge on Cardin.

Regardless of whether she had intended to harm Weiss or not – still, for the moment, assuming that it was her – Weiss had no intention of following in her example and seeking any kind of revenge. She was above such things… at least, she was in a situation where she could acknowledge that Cardin had rather had this coming.

No, she would not start a vendetta against the other student – that would do a great deal to convince her fellow students that she wasn’t a racist, wouldn’t it? – in fact… Sunset was one of those she was considering speaking to, to find out how leadership seemed to come so much more effortlessly to her than it did to a Schnee.

Or perhaps she could just scream into the other girl’s face; then she might not feel quite so much like screaming at Cardin.

The worst part of all this was that, on some level, this was precisely what she had come to Beacon for: to be treated as a student, not as a Schnee, to get away from her father’s influence, good and bad. Well, here she was, getting into trouble just like any other student, and her name meant absolutely nothing.

Wasn’t it marvellous?

The elevator door slid open, revealing the illuminated green interior of the CCT lobby; Cardin and Bon Bon were nowhere to be found, but as Weiss stepped out, she saw that Winter was waiting there for her, bearing erect and hands clasped behind her back.

Her expression was stern, and Weiss felt a flutter in her stomach as she walked, more slowly than she might, towards her.

“W-Winter?” Weiss asked, her voice trembling.

Winter glared down at her, but her expression began to soften immediately. “I came as soon as I heard,” she said. “How are you doing?”

“You came because you thought I was in trouble?” Weiss asked.

“I came because I thought you might appreciate a sisterly shoulder,” Winter corrected her gently. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Weiss said quickly. “I just thought that perhaps… you might hold me responsible.”

Winter’s smile was thin and a little sad, “The academies hold team leaders responsible for their teammates,” she said, “but I’m only your sister, so I’m not obliged to do the same. As far as I’m concerned, what that oaf said and did was no fault of yours.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said, sighing. “At least somebody thinks that way.”

Winter reached out and placed one hand upon Weiss’ back, gently steering her towards the doors. “I’ll always be here for you, Weiss,” she declared. “Unfortunately, my duties will not always permit me to be here physically, but in some sense at least. And, since my duties presently do permit me to be here physically, here I am. And I know you better than to condemn you for words fallen from another’s mouth and sentiments I know you do not share.”

“Many people disagree with you, if only because my name is Schnee,” Weiss murmured.

“We are not born guilty of our father’s crimes,” Winter reminded her. “Whatever he has done, we bear no blame for it; if others seek to tar you with the same brush, then they reveal more about themselves than they do about you or I.” The two of them emerged out of the tower and into the morning light of the courtyard. Classes were going on right now, and Weiss should probably have rushed to get to Plant Science, but she didn’t want to say goodbye to Winter just yet.

If that meant that she got another detention, then so be it.

“And yet, the stain will stick to me nonetheless,” Weiss replied. “Have I caused any trouble for you? I know that Blake is working with you, and-”

“And if General Ironwood were going to hold my name against me, he would have done it already,” Winter assured her. “And his judgement is too sound to listen to gossip and aspersions.” She paused. “Or it might simply be that he doesn’t read Valish gossip zines and, thus, has no idea that any of this is going on.”

Weiss covered her mouth as a snorted giggle escaped out of her nose and mouth simultaneously. “That… is probably a good thing,” she said. “How are things going with the White Fang?”

“Since the capture of Roman Torchwick, dust robberies in the city and on the Cold Harbour line have ceased,” Winter informed her, although the first of these had been known to Weiss already via the news, which had proudly trumpeted the defeat of the White Fang’s crime spree. “Unfortunately, we’re no closer to locating their hidden base, nor to recovering the large quantities of dust and military equipment they have already stolen.”

“'Military equipment'?” Weiss asked. “The White Fang have stolen Atlesian weapons?”

Winter cleared her throat. “Forgive me,” she said. “I forgot that you were not… that is classified information; you should try and forget it.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Weiss said dryly.

“Then at least don’t tell anyone else?”

“Atlas’ secrets are safe with me,” Weiss vowed. “Even if they do worry me a little.”

“Don’t let them,” Winter instructed her. “I told you that our forces would take care of everything, and we shall.”

“Your forces, or Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal?”

“One of those, at least, is part of our forces,” Winter reminded her. “As for the other… the point is that you have more pressing and more personal matters to deal with right now.”

“Mhm,” Weiss acknowledged. “What should I do?”

“About your reputation or your team?”

“Either?” Weiss replied. “Both?”

Winter’s thin brow was furrowed with thought. “I fear that any advice I could give you on leadership would be inapplicable to your situation.”

“Professor Ozpin says that I shouldn’t give Cardin cause to resent me any more than he does.”

“I am sure that is good advice for you,” Winter said. “Even if I would see things differently. This is not Atlas, after all, you cannot simply do as I did.”

“I suppose not,” Weiss murmured. “And my reputation?”

“How important is it to you?” Winter asked.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “It… it means a lot to me. I want to be thought well of here, as a student… and as a person. I don’t want to be thought of as a smaller, younger, female version of our father.”

“Have you…?” Now it was Winter’s turn to hesitate. “Have you considered speaking to Father?”

Weiss stopped, in spite of Winter’s hand on her trying to push her own. “You… are you serious?”

“I know how it sounds-”

“Then why did you say it?” Weiss demanded.

“Because the SDC public relations machine is perhaps the most formidable on Remnant, you know this,” Winter told her. “If you want to make this go away – at least outside the school – then this may be the best, and certainly the most efficient, way.”

“But at what cost?” Weiss asked.

Winter did not respond immediately. “Only you can decide whether or not it’s worth it,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry,” she added. “It isn’t good advice, but it is the only advice I can give you other than to keep your back straight and your head held high and wait for all of this to blow over.”

“That might be preferable,” Weiss muttered. But really, would it? Professor Ozpin had spoken of providing fuel for opinion pieces for a couple of weeks, and while she could possibly have survived that, he had also mentioned a backlash of pieces in which, presumably, professional contrarians would insist that what Cardin and Bon Bon had said and done was perfectly fine, and if you objected to hearing it suggested that maybe the humans should have committed genocide, then you were just over-sensitive and needed to get over yourself. She was not at all sure that she wanted to be associated with that sort of thing. She thought about Flash and the way that his father’s death had been twisted to serve the cause of those whom Flash despised; could she really let that happen to him again, when she had the power to prevent it?

Sometimes, the hardest thing to do was to ask for help, Professor Ozpin had said, with the implication that, for all that it was a hard thing to do, it was nevertheless also a good and worthwhile thing to do.

But not in all circumstances, surely?

No, or at least perhaps not, but in this case? It would benefit her teammates, it would benefit Flash, and the only cost? The only cost would be whatever her father asked of her specifically… and the cost to her pride in asking for it in the first place.

For herself, that would have been a price too great to pay, but for Flash? It did not seem so much then, and she seemed selfish for refusing to consider it.

“Do you really think that he’ll be able to take care of this?” Weiss asked her sister.

“If all else fails, he can always buy up these publications and direct them to write whatever he pleases,” Winter said, with a slight touch of wry amusement in her voice. “That would probably please him; Father hasn’t purchased a new asset in some time.” She paused. “It was only a suggestion; you don’t have to-”

“No,” Weiss agreed. “I don’t. But I will.” She got out her scroll. “Thank you, Winter. You should probably go, unless you want to speak to Father as well.”

“Not particularly,” Winter conceded. “But I won’t be far away, in case you need me.” She stalked across the square, striding as far away as the centre one of the two Beacon axes formed by the lighter stones of the courtyard. There, she turned upon the heel of her boot, her eyes fixed upon Weiss.

Weiss smiled at her, with a little more cheer in her smile than she felt in her heart, and then looked away from her sister and focussed her attention upon her scroll. Unbidden, her fingers had already found the entry labelled ‘Father’ in her directory.

Her hand trembled. Weiss took a deep breath and sought to control the sickly feeling in her gut. This was not just for herself; this was for her teammates. This was for Flash.

She selected voice only and pressed the green scroll indicator.

The scroll rang. No one picked up. Weiss found herself hoping that no one would pick up. Perhaps Father was in a meeting and could not be disturbed, perhaps he was having elevenses with Mother and did not wish to be disturbed – as if – or perhaps he was simply hard at work managing the most profitable business enterprise in Remnant and had no time to deal with his daughter and her small affairs.

Weiss found herself hoping that it was so.

Her hopes were in vain. The ringing ceased; her scroll indicated that her call was now connected a split second before the oily voice of Jacques Schnee began to drip out and onto the square.

“Weiss, darling,” Jacques said. “I’m so glad that you decided to call. It’s been so long since I’ve heard your voice.”

Weiss closed her eyes. She couldn’t see her father, and yet, despite the voice-only nature of this call, she found it all too easy to imagine him sat in his study, underneath a large portrait of himself from his more youthful days. She could imagine the cold of his eyes as his smile failed to reach them. “Good morning, Father,” she said, keeping her voice even and controlled. “I hope that I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all, my dear,” Jacques assured her. “I’m never too busy to speak to my daughter. How are you? How are you finding Beacon?”

“I’m the leader of my team,” Weiss told him. He probably knew it already – it had been some time, after all – but she hadn’t told him before, if only because they hadn’t spoken since she left for Beacon.

“Really? That’s wonderful to hear,” Jacques said. “Your mother will be so proud of you when I tell her the news.”

Weiss found herself licking her lips. “And you, Father?”

“Oh, I’m delighted, but I always knew that you could do it. You are a Schnee, after all; how could you settle for anything less?”

“I… see,” Weiss said softly. “My grades are good, and I’m in the very top ranking of our sparring class. I’d say that everything is going quite well.”

“Everything?” Jacques asked. “But I hear that you’re in a spot of bother.”

You already know why I’m calling, don’t you? Weiss thought. “Well… there is… that is to say that something has come up. One of my teammates said some… ill-advised things about the faunus, and now, people are suggesting that I, that my entire team, are in agreement with him, which I am not.”

“Of course not,” Jacques agreed. “It’s such a shame that you’ve become a victim of these baseless allegations levelled at our family and the company. All our employees, human and faunus alike, are valued members of the SDC family; it just so happens that mining is dangerous work, and with the best will in the world, accidents will happen. The world isn’t a utopia just because some malcontents would like it to be.”

“I know,” Weiss murmured, hoping to get off the subject of labour conditions in the SDC – if only because she strongly suspected that her father did not have the best will in the world when it came to ensuring safety – and onto why she had actually called him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we have been implicated in the actions of our teammate and…” She hesitated, hoping briefly that he might preempt her and guess – or pretend to guess – why she had called him. He did not. He would not. He would make her ask. “And I was hoping that you might be able to help us?”

There were a few moments of silence from the other end of the line. “You want me to make all of this bad publicity go away? Is that what you want, dear?”

Weiss hesitated. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“Consider it done, sweetheart; I’ll get my people on it right away,” Jacques declared. He paused. “Oh, and by the way, we’re so looking forward to having you home for the holidays. I understand you have a break between the end of semester and the beginning of the Vytal Festival.”

And there it was: the price. He would do as she had asked, and in return, he expected her to come home for the pre-festival break.

This was why she would not have called if it had just been her reputation at stake. She had no desire to return to that house, to return to her father’s side, to let him parade her around parties and high society gatherings… but this wasn’t just for her. This was for her teammates. This was for Flash.

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s right.”

“Excellent,” Jacques said. “Your mother has missed you so much since you’ve been away, and I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I’m… looking forward to it already,” Weiss said, her voice dull and devoid of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl,” Jacques said. “Now don’t you worry about what anyone says from now on. I’ll take care of everything.”

Regrets (New)

Regrets

Bon Bon scuffed her foot against the courtyard surface as she and Cardin left the tower, wandering slowly and forlornly back in the direction of school. She folded her arms. “Well… this sucks,” she said.

“You have no idea,” Cardin muttered. He’d been trying to get hold of Skystar since last night when this broke – since his mother, of all people, had told him that it was breaking – and she wasn’t returning his calls, his texts, or his emails. It was… well, it wasn’t looking good. Not least because he didn’t even know what he was going to say if she did pick up the scroll. Please take me back? I didn’t really mean it? That hadn’t gone over too well with Professor Ozpin; he could only imagine how it was going to come over with Skystar.

“Yeah, I think I do, actually,” Bon Bon replied. “Seeing as how, you know, I’m in this mess as well.”

Cardin snorted. “Right, sorry. I mean that. I’m sorry that I got you into this mess.”

“It’s okay,” Bon Bon replied. “I mean, it’s not okay, but what I mean is that I got myself into this mess when I vandalised the Sapphire door. You know that this was Sunset again, right?”

“Does it matter who it was?” Cardin asked. “This isn’t like what she did to Lyra, where if it came out that she’d done it, everyone would think she was a jackass for it; if it came out that she’d done this, the dining hall would probably give her a round of applause.”

Bon Bon sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. Even more unfortunately, we’d deserve it.”

“Is that what you think?” Cardin asked. “Because you’re not a racist?”

“I’m not!” Bon Bon squawked. “You don’t believe me?”

“I’m not sure you can call for wiping out a whole people like that if you really think that saying so makes you a monster,” Cardin mused. “Even I was shocked when you said that.”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“You sounded like you meant it to me, and to Blake too.”

“From what I hear, you managed to convince your girlfriend that you didn’t hate her faunus in-laws for a while, even though you did.”

“I never hated Silverstream and Terramar,” Cardin insisted. Terramar… it had been nice to have somebody who looked up to him, who thought that he was cool. Maybe that was selfish, and it was certainly sad as hell, but at the same time… Terramar was a good kid, and Silverstream was just so darn nice that you couldn’t dislike her just because she had wings. It was the other faunus, the ones who were all surly and moody all the time like Blake, or who were always staring like Velvet, they were the ones who rubbed him up the wrong way. “Of course, I’m not so sure that they’ll believe that.”

“Especially not since, Mister ‘I was shocked at how awful you are,’ you agreed with everything I said.”

Cardin frowned. “No, I didn’t!”

“Those were your exact words.”

Thinking back, Cardin realised with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he might well have uttered the words ‘every word she said is true.’ Every word. Oh, God help me, Skystar must think… Silverstream and Terramar. “Well, I didn’t mean it like that!” he cried. “I was pissed off and speaking… you know, generally. When I said every word, I didn’t mean every actual word out of your mouth.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how words work,” Bon Bon informed him.

Cardin whimpered. “No matter everyone’s making such a fuss, they think I’m a… how am I supposed to… oh, God. Everyone’s taking it literally, aren’t they?”

“Probably, yes,” Bon Bon said, not without sympathy. “So,” she continued, “what’s our next move?”

Cardin’s eyes bulged incredulously. “I’m sorry, our next move?”

“Yeah,” Bon Bon said. “You know, how do we-?”

“There is no next move!” Cardin snapped. “Were you not in the same office that I was in just then? Did you not listen to the same headmaster that I did? We just got our asses kicked! We are this close to getting tossed out of Beacon on our asses! Now, maybe that doesn’t bother you, because you can just transfer to Atlas or something and try again next year, but I actually want to graduate from this school at some point!”

Bon Bon was silent. “You could have thought about that-”

“I never said I was perfect!” Cardin shouted. “The point is… the point is that I’m done. Yes, I don’t like a White Fang terrorist being here, yes, I’d like to see her gone, but I don’t see that me getting myself expelled is actually going to do her any harm, and it’s starting to look as though she’s bulletproof, so why don’t we just let it go, make the best of it, and hope that everybody forgets what we did sooner rather than later?”

Bon Bon was quiet. She didn’t look at him; she just walked along with her arms folded. “I can’t let it go,” she muttered. “I just… I can’t.”

Cardin’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know whether to envy her resolve or pity her stupidity. Both, maybe? Either way, it didn’t change his mind; he wasn’t going to put what remained of his future on the line just out of some sense of loyalty to her. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but… good luck,” he said. “I think you’ll need it if this is the road you want to go down.”

Bon Bon’s smile was wan, although Cardin wasn’t sure why, because it wasn’t like anybody was forcing her to do this, right? She could just give up, like he planned to do for his own good. Instead, she was choosing to keep on putting everything on the line to get at Blake – and for what? – but at the same time, she was acting like she was going to her execution. “Yeah,” she said. “Don’t I know it.”

Cardin didn’t know what to say to that – seriously, what was going on with her? – and to be honest, he wasn’t interested in finding anything to say, or in saying anything else to Bon Bon either. He started to turn away from her, walking not straight back to the greenhouses, where Plant Science was in session, but towards the lawns in the direction of the docking pads.

“You’re not coming back to class?” Bon Bon asked him, gesturing in the right direction.

“Not just yet,” Cardin grunted.

“You just got told off, and you’re already going to play truant?”

“I’m not ready to go back to class quite yet,” Cardin told her irritably. “Just… you go; I’ll catch up soon. There’s something that I have to do first.”

Bon Bon frowned. “How many times have you tried calling her?”

“What are you talking about?”

Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. “Come on, Cardin. Who your girlfriend is and why she’d be mad at you were both part of the article. That was the whole point of the article: First Councillor’s daughter dates racist grandson of Lord Chief Justice, remember?”

“Yes, I remember, I’ve done nothing else but remember,” Cardin snapped.

“So,” Bon Bon insisted. “How many times have you tried calling her?”

Cardin sighed. “I’ve lost count.”

Bon Bon winced. “Dude, I’m sorry to say this, but… it’s over.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “I know,” he replied. “But I need to… I have to try. At least… I need to hear her say it.”

Bon Bon nodded. “I guess I can get that,” she murmured. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“It’s not worth much,” Cardin replied. “But… thanks anyway.”

“Good luck,” Bon Bon added, very quietly, as if she didn’t expect that he would have any luck, or else maybe she thought that no amount of luck would save him, or maybe she just thought that if she sounded too enthusiastic, he’d think that she was inappropriately happy about all of this. Whatever the truth, she didn’t say anything else but finally left him alone and headed off to Plant Science.

Cardin headed in the other way, crossing the empty courtyard as he pulled out his scroll and started flicking through the alerts on his social media feed. It was… not great. Besides the initial story itself… well, it was like Professor Ozpin said, but even worse. Councillor Aspen Emerald had felt the need to publicly insist that Cardin’s grandfather was not a racist, but was ‘a gentleman of immense courtesy whom I am proud to work alongside for the betterment of Vale’; that endorsement hadn’t stopped Sir Orange Peel from calling for Lord Winchester’s resignation – which was a bit bloody rich of him, in Cardin’s opinion, considering that Peel had been saying things at least as bad as anything Cardin had said since the White Fang had started all their robberies. Councillor Leo Aquas had been a little less supportive of Cardin’s father and had ordered an internal inquiry into racism and bullying at the Treasury. There were think pieces about endemic racism in the huntsman academies, former faunus students coming out of the woodwork to talk about how they, too, had been victims of racism… and there was the article that had started it all, about how Skystar was dating a racist and what did her faunus uncle and cousins think about that?

He didn’t know, but he suspected that it was nothing good.

He couldn’t get Skystar to reply to his messages, but he did have unopened messages from both his parents. He hadn’t had the guts to look at what was in them yet.

How had he managed to mess this up so badly? His grandfather facing calls for him to quit – okay, they weren’t serious calls, and it probably wasn’t going to happen, but that wasn’t really the point – maybe his father’s job at risk too, all because of him. And Skystar…

He didn’t realise how good he had had it until it was starting to look until he didn’t have it any more. How had he become so consumed with petty jealousy, with envy of Jaune Arc and Sunset Shimmer, with anger at Blake Belladonna, how had he let all of that stuff get so big that he hadn’t realised just how good he had it? Yes, he wasn’t the best student at the school, sure, nobody was giving him special favours or opening up doors for him, and he knew that he didn’t have one of the best partners in the school and certainly not the partner that he would have chosen, but so what? So what? Did Jaune Arc stay up at night worrying about how much he sucked? No! Because he was dating Pyrrha Nikos, the hottest student in school, and he was grateful for it! The guy was so grateful – and well he might be; she was way out of his league – that he was practically floating three feet off the ground most of the time. Cardin had found it insufferable, but why? It wasn’t as though he didn’t have anything of his own to be grateful for: an enviable social position as the heir to the Winchester family, an income that was almost sufficient to his needs – a gentleman’s income was never quite sufficient – and a girlfriend who adored him.

Why couldn’t he have been satisfied with that?

Of course, it had been partly for Skystar that he had tried to do this, but at the same time… she hadn’t asked him to, and she certainly hadn’t asked him to go about it like this.

When he and Skystar started dating, he had known that his attitudes might cause him problems down the line. That should have been a sign for him to do something about them, but instead, he had acted as though he could live a double life, the asshole at school and the model of tolerance with her.

How had he let it all come to this? How could he possibly have been so stupid?

Was there any way that he could make this right?

He tried to call Skystar again.

The ‘ringing’ icon rumbled on with no response. The scroll shook a little in Cardin’s meaty hands.

Come on, come on. Pick up.

I don’t know what I’m going to say but still, pick up, please.

Just talk to me.

“Stop calling me!” Skystar’s voice squawked out of the scroll as her image appeared on the screen. Her usually immaculate face was blotchy with tearstains, her nose was running, and her big blue eyes were wet with tears that were still welling up with them. She was dressed, as far as Cardin could tell, in the turquoise dressing gown that he’d gotten her for her last birthday.

He couldn’t tell if it was a good sign that she hadn’t thrown it out yet or if it was a bad thing that she was so upset that she was still in her dressing gown at ten-thirty in the morning.

“Skystar,” Cardin begged. “Please, just listen for a minute-”

“'Listen'?” Skystar cried. “Listen to you? Why, so you can lie to me some more?”

“Is that Cardin?” Silverstream’s voice echoed out of the scroll from somewhere off screen.

Silverstream was there. Of course Silverstream was there, with Skystar in that state. He really should have seen this coming.

And yet, he was not prepared at all.

Skystar sniffed. “Yes,” she said.

“Tell him for me that he’s a big stupid jerk!” Silverstream screamed. “Actually, I’ll tell him myself!” She elbowed her way into the frame, her violet eyes blazing with anger. “You’re a big stupid jerk, Cardin Winchester!”

“If you’ll just both let me explain-” Cardin began.

“What is there to explain?” Silverstream demanded. “Are you going to tell me that I should be grateful that you haven’t murdered me already like you want to?”

“I don’t want to kill you, or Terramar, or any other faunus; I was angry, and I didn’t think about what I was saying,” Cardin insisted.

“Should I be grateful that you don’t want to kill me?”

“No!” Cardin yelled. “Please, whatever I said in there… I’ve never thought about you or your brother that way. You and Terramar, you’re not like other faunus-”

“Cardin!” Skystar exclaimed. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

If he’d been speaking to someone else, Cardin would have asked why, exactly, it was such a terrible thing to say. He might have asked why it became a crime to say that water was wet. Some faunus – a lot of faunus – were not good people; they were cunning and conniving, callous and cruel; look at Sunset Shimmer for example, look at the White Fang. It wasn’t wrong to say any of that just because it hurt some people’s feelings, and it wasn’t wrong to have negative feelings towards them because of the way that they behaved. Was it wrong to have negative feelings towards criminals?

None of that, however, was likely to get him back into Skystar’s good books, and so Cardin showed a little wisdom – if only he could have started showing it sooner – and did not say it. Instead, he said, “I did this for you, Skystar.”

“What?” Skystar and Silverstream both cried out at once, and both in the same tone of disbelief.

“Blake Belladonna is a dangerous criminal, you know that as well as I do,” Cardin explained. “Your mom was worried that you’d be in danger if you came up to school with her around, so I tried to take care of it.”

“Mom didn’t mean for you to say things like that,” Skystar insisted. “She would never mean that.” She wiped at her eyes in a futile gesture since more tears simply welled up there immediately after she was done. “Cardin, I… I thought that I knew who you were.”

“You do know who I am,” Cardin insisted. “You know exactly who I am.”

“No, I don’t!” Skystar said. “It turns out that there’s this whole other side to you that I never knew existed. You must think that I’m such an idiot.”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Really?” Skystar demanded. “All that time that you were lying to me, hiding what you really thought, pretending to be someone else.”

“I never pretended,” Cardin said, softly, desperately. “I never… it’s true that I act in a different way when I’m at school than I do when I’m with you, but that… that’s the act, the me at Beacon. When I’m with you… that’s the real Cardin Winchester.”

Skystar sniffed. “I wish I could believe that,” she whispered.

“You can believe it,” Cardin declared. “What can I do to show you that you can believe it?”

“I don’t know,” Skystar said. “I don’t know if there’s anything that you can do, or anything that you can say. I thought I knew you. And I thought that you knew me too. I thought you knew that my family means everything to me. I thought you knew how much I love them.”

“I do know that.”

“And that’s why you lied and pretended not to hate us?” Silverstream demanded accusingly.

“That… that’s not what happened; that’s not what I was doing.”

“Cardin,” Skystar said. “Do you believe that the faunus are the equals of humans?”

Cardin was silent for a moment. He couldn’t lie, not to her, not any more, not like this. “Not all of them.”

Silverstream growled wordlessly.

Skystar shut her eyes, cringing visibly on the other side of the scroll. “Cardin,” she moaned. “I can’t believe that you would-”

“Please, Skystar, don’t say any more,” Cardin begged. “Please, I… I’ll do anything. I know that I’m not perfect, but if this means so much to you, then I’ll fix it. I can change. Give me a chance to prove to you that I can change, that I can be better, that I can… that I can move past this. Don’t… don’t let this be the end of it. I know that I shouldn’t have lied to you, but the reason I did it was because… because you mean so much to me. Because I knew that you would never look at someone who thought the way that I did, no matter what our families wanted. Because… because you mean so much to me, Skystar. Because… because I love you.”

“I believed you did,” Skystar whispered. “Just like I believe that… that you were one person who would never hurt me, ever. But that wasn’t true either. I don’t know what was true and what was a lie, but I do know that I can’t trust you. Goodbye, Cardin, don’t call me again.”

“Skystar, wait-” Cardin cried, but it was too late. She had already hung up on him.

He called again. The scroll rang for a moment, and then a red exclamation mark flashed up on the screen informing him that he had been blocked by that number.

Cardin closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster any anger or upset towards Skystar, or Silverstream. He deserved that. He didn’t like it, not one bit, but he deserved it.

That didn’t make him feel any less hollow inside. It was like he had been gutted, and everything ripped out of him. Everything good, anyway.

And it was all his fault. It was all, absolutely, his fault.

There were no tears. He didn’t shout or scream. He just stared down at the now-blank scroll in his hands that did not even shake. What was he supposed to do now?

What was he supposed to do?

He was supposed to go to class now, but he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t know how he was supposed to attend lessons, pay attention to his teachers, take notes on things that didn’t matter in the slightest any more. What was Plant Science when the light had gone out of the world?

With heavy, slow, ponderous, and solemn tread, Cardin made his way back towards the dorm rooms. He didn’t actually return to his room, although he thought about it; he wanted nothing more than to lie on his bed with his head on the pillow, doing nothing, thinking nothing, becoming nothing. He wanted to sleep until this was all past, like the memory of a dream. He wanted to wake up in bed and find that it was all a dream and had been from the first, that he hadn’t endangered his future and his family, that he hadn’t lost Skystar. He wanted to wake up and find that this had all been some sort of cautionary tale, to teach him to appreciate what he had and make the best of it.

But, since he knew perfectly well that this was nothing of the sort, he did not go back to the dorm room; that would be the first place he would be looked for, after all. Instead, he went to the second place he would be looked for, the roof above the dorm, and lay spread out on the roof next to the pipes.

He was still lying there, some time later – he didn’t know exactly how long – when he heard Weiss’ voice calling in the dorm room down below.

“Cardin?”

She didn’t sound as irritated as he’d expected her to be – irritated, sure, but not apoplectic, which was a surprise all things considered.

“Cardin,” Weiss repeated, a moment before a squeak of alarm. There was a moment of silence, and then Weiss appeared, leaping nimbly from one glowing white glyph to another before jumping onto the roof itself. From the way that she flicked at her slightly frizzled bangs with one hand, he guessed that she’d tried to climb up onto the roof and lost her footing.

Lucky she had such a useful semblance.

“There you are,” Weiss said, looking down on him. Somehow, she always managed to look down on him, even though she was half his size.

Cardin rolled onto his side. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come to class,” Weiss told him. “If I don’t bring you back, we’ll both be in trouble.”

Of course that was why she was here. “I don’t feel like classes right now.”

“That’s unfortunate, considering this is a school,” Weiss remarked dryly.

“Yeah, it’s really unlucky,” Cardin muttered. “Listen, I don’t feel like being yelled at right now-”

“That’s better, because I’m not here to yell at you,” Weiss informed him. There was a moment of silence before he heard her sigh. “Ugh. Listen, we’re probably both going to get into even more trouble at this point anyway, so let’s just… I’m sorry, Cardin.”

Cardin blinked. He rolled back over so that he could see Weiss sitting on a pipe beside him; weirdly, it didn’t look as though she was mocking him. “You’re sorry?”

Weiss sighed, and looked away. “Please don’t ask me to repeat myself.”

“I just… of all the things that I expected to hear today, that wasn’t one of them.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Have you managed to get Skystar to answer you yet?”

Now it was Cardin’s turn to sigh. “Once,” he confessed. “Before she blocked my number.”

Weiss winced. “I’m sorry for that,” she pointed out. “And for… everything else besides. It’s over, then?”

“It looks like it,” Cardin muttered. “Unless you know a way that I can get her to take me back. Show her that I’ve changed.”

“Have you changed?” Weiss asked.

“You don’t think I can?” Cardin demanded, starting to sit up.

“I think that we can all change, thank goodness,” Weiss replied. “But I’m not sure that we can all change that fast.” She paused, her brow momentarily furrowing. “I’m also sorry that I allowed things to reach this point.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I don’t; that’s the problem,” Weiss said. “I’ve never been a good leader. For the most part, I’ve barely even tried to lead. I resented the fact that you were on my team, and I never sought to make us more than very reluctant teammates. It’s little wonder that we haven’t been assigned a training mission yet.”

“It’s still early.”

“Iron and Sapphire both got a mission in the first week of semester,” Weiss pointed out. “The divide between the teams that are considered likely to succeed and those that are not trusted by the faculty is quite clear. Made even worse by the fact that I can’t really blame them. In Professor Ozpin or Professor Goodwitch’s place, I’m not sure that I would trust us either. And, while this probably hasn’t helped in that regard, as your leader, I shouldn’t have let things get that far.”

“Do you really think that you could have stopped me?”

“I think that I ought to have tried,” Weiss replied. “Why did you do it?”

“Not because I’m an advocate of faunus genocide,” Cardin declared. “And I don’t think Bon Bon is, either.”

“I don’t care about Bon Bon,” Weiss said quickly. “As far as I’m concerned, this is partly her fault.”

“I went to her,” Cardin informed Weiss. “I saw that she was… well, you know what Sunset did to Lyra-”

“Someone did that to Lyra,” Weiss corrected him.

“Oh, come on, who else would have done something like that?”

“I’m not interested in throwing blame around without proof,” Weiss told him, “and I don’t think that you’re in any position to be holding grudges.”

Cardin snorted. “Believe me, I’m done with revenge.”

“Good,” Weiss said. “And you’re done with Bon Bon too. You may have had the idea, but she didn’t tell you what a bad idea it was, which means that she isn’t good for you to be around. You still haven’t told me why you did it.”

Cardin did sit up now, and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s like the headmaster said, the plan was to goad Blake into crossing the line.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s White Fang!” Cardin snapped. “I know, I know, you believe in second chances.”

“Luckily for you, yes,” Weiss said, as a touch of frost entered her voice.

“Is it really so hard to believe that a reasonable person could think that a former terrorist isn’t the best person to have around?” Cardin demanded. “Is it really so hard to think that I might not be overreacting just because of Blake’s race?”

Weiss was silent for a moment. She clasped her hands together and looked down at them for a moment. “Who raised you, Cardin?”

Cardin frowned. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Just answer it,” Weiss said. “Please.”

“I was raised by my mother; who do you think?”

“She had time?”

“What else was she going to do?”

Weiss sighed. “That explains so much.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was… not particularly called for. The point is that you had a stay-at-home mother to care for and look after you. That… was she a good mother?”

“She was the best,” Cardin said. “If I didn’t turn out perfect, that’s my fault, not hers.”

“Then you are very fortunate,” Weiss said, “to have been raised by someone who loved you without-” She cut herself off, abruptly and with a look upon her pale face that approached shame. When she continued, it was from somewhere else. “I was raised by my family’s retainers,” she informed him. “My father was preoccupied with the affairs of the company, as you can imagine, and my mother… had her own distractions. My care, as well as that of my sister and brother, fell to the staff. In particular, my father’s butler, Klein Sieben, and my mother’s nanny, Laberna Seacole. Laberna, Miss Seacole as I suppose I ought to say, had looked after my mother when she was a girl, had stayed on in her employ, and then looked after my mother’s children when we came along. Until my father dismissed her as the White Fang began to turn violent.”

Cardin’s eyes narrowed. “So, she was a faunus?”

“Yes,” Weiss said softly. “She was. More importantly, she spent more time with us than she did with her own family; she was there for us more than our own family… and yet, once the White Fang started to turn violent, father showed her the door. And no reasonable person would say that he was overreacting.”

Cardin frowned. “What happened to her?”

“I have no idea,” Weiss murmured. “I’ve sometimes thought about tracking her down, seeing how she’s doing now, but… what would I say? How would I even begin to make up for what my father did? Would she even want to have anything to do with me? After all, she was paid to care about me before; she’d be under no such obligation now.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Look, that’s… your old man should have had more loyalty to someone who’d been with the family for so long, sure.” His own family did not have many servants – it was just too expensive to keep them in the modern day and age, not to mention the fact that not a lot of people actually wanted to work in service these days, and with so many modern conveniences and technological advances, there wasn’t a lot of need for them anyway – but they did have a housekeeper, and when old Mrs. Byrd had gotten too old to carry out her duties, Father had found her a sinecure in the Treasury. She was nominally employed as Chief Messenger, with the tacit understanding that she would never be required to carry any messages. “But throwing her out just because she’s a faunus isn’t the same thing as an actual White Fang terrorist!”

“Former terrorist.”

“You say that, but it’s not as if you’re eager to become buddies with her.”

Weiss exhaled through her nose. “That… is true. Blake and I are not friends, and I’m not sure if we will ever become friends. But you don’t have to befriend her either; you just need to curb your hostility towards her.”

“Consider it curbed.”

“Not just because you’ve suffered from your attempts at… whatever it is you were attempting,” Weiss informed him.

“So you are asking me to like her.”

“I’m asking you… I’m asking you why you want to become a huntsman.”

“Huh?”

“Humour me,” Weiss said. “You could have chosen to enter politics, law, or the Civil Service like your family.”

“I still might go into politics when I get older.”

“So being a huntsman is about what?” Weiss asked. “Raising your profile so that you can say that you’ve fought for Vale to make yourself more electable?”

“No,” Cardin said quickly. “If that was all it was, I’d join the Royal Navy and serve out the minimum term in a position that guaranteed I’d never see combat. I want to become a huntsman because I want to see some action. I want to get stuck in, you know, against the grimm; I want to get stuck in for Vale. I want to have cool stories that I can bore my grandchildren with.” Though who I’m going to have children with now is something I don’t know. “I guess that I want… that I want people to hear those stories and think how brave I was, to go out and fight like that. I wanted people to think that I was cool.” And they did: Terramar and Skystar. And I just had to blow it because I’m a dumbass.

He was a little surprised that Weiss didn’t laugh, or call him pathetic, or give any sign that she found his paltry ambitions to be laughable. Instead, she stood up and turned her back to him, raising one foot and placing it on the pipe which she had previously been sitting on. “I want to restore my family’s reputation,” she declared.

Cardin, likewise, rose to his feet. “Your family’s reputation,” he repeated. “The Schnee family’s reputation is-”

“One of rampant profiteering and a dubious regard for labour safety,” Weiss said, cutting him off. “But it wasn’t always thus. You know that my grandfather was known as much for his courage as he was for his business acumen. When he died, Councillor Bradley called him a model of Atlesian valour and an exemplar of the spirit that had made our kingdom great once more. It’s hard to imagine anyone saying anything like that about my father… and I don’t know if anyone will care enough to say anything like that about me when my time comes, but… but if I can make it so that it’s at least possible that someone could say that with a straight face? Well, then that will be enough for me. I don’t have to renew the glory of the Schnee name, but I should very much like to renew its honour.” She turned around to face Cardin once again. “I don’t know if I have it in me to become a great leader like my grandfather, but I think – I hope – that I can become a better leader than I have been so far.” She smiled. “So, do you think that we can start over? I think… I think it might be the only way that either of our dreams can come true.” She held out one hand to him. “I’m Weiss Schnee.”

Cardin looked down at her small, pale hand. Start over? Wasn’t it a little late for that?

Maybe, but at the same time, she was right: if they kept on as they were – if he kept on as he was – then there was no way that he was going to make it to graduation.

He had asked Skystar to let him prove that he could change. She wasn’t willing to give him the chance… but maybe if he changed first, then she might be willing to take another look.

And if she didn’t? Maybe just changing would be worthwhile. It wasn’t as if being himself had done him many favours.

"I am not holding you back. Pyrrha isn't holding me back, Ruby isn't holding me back, Cadance- no one holds us back but us. If we have been deceived, it's by our blindness to our natures. If we have been restrained, it is by our unworthy hearts. But we can change, Cardin. Our hearts can mend, our souls can grow. I have to believe that we need not be these small and ugly things forever, or else... destiny is not beyond us, if only we can... there are lights that we can follow."

That had been what Sunset had said to him, in the forest. At the time, he hadn’t understood what she was talking about; it seemed like nothing more than a bunch of nonsense, words spewed out without any meaning. But afterwards… afterwards, it was like she’d turned her life around, and look at her now: successful and loved by everyone.

If she could do it, then maybe he could do the same?

It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

He took her hand. “Cardin Winchester,” he said. “Good to meet you.”

Two Lessons (New)

Two Lessons

The BLBL dorm room was silent. And not the pleasant, comfortable kind of silent either. No, that would have been too lucky for Bon Bon, formerly known as Sweetie Drops. No, this was the kind of silence that felt like, if it were to be shattered, the shards would cut someone.

Bon Bon sat on her bed, resting her elbows on her knees, looking down at the plaid skirt of her Beacon uniform. She was very deliberately not looking at any of her teammates: not at Sky, not at Dove, and certainly not at Lyra.

She didn’t need to look at Lyra to know the expression on her face. Sunset might have humiliated Lyra in front of the rest of the school, but Bon Bon knew her well enough to know that Bon Bon’s actions had hit her far harder.

That was why she didn’t want to look; no, she couldn’t look.

And this is just a drop in the bucket; what’s she going to think when she finds out what I really am?

Maybe I can argue incompetence? I never succeeded at anything I tried, so it doesn’t matter?

…yeah, I’m not sure that’s going to cut it.

Not to mention the fact that if I don’t start succeeding at something, I’m probably going to die.

That was another issue weighing on her mind. While Doctor Watts might be a forgiving sort – might be; he had seemed genial enough in her youth, but that was before she found out more about his true colours – her new boss did not give quite the same impression. Mind you, Bon Bon wouldn’t have expected her to give some of the orders that she’d issued to Bon Bon lately, so really, who was to say? Bon Bon’s initial read on her seemed to have missed a few things.

That still didn’t make her safe, though. So far, Bon Bon’s record in fulfilling her mission was… pretty abysmal. She’d failed abjectly to get close to Pyrrha Nikos, or anyone of any relevance whatsoever; she was the leader of what was emphatically the D-team, and the only reason she wasn’t beneath the notice of everyone was because of what she’d done to Blake. The only things that she’d managed to find out were common knowledge. It was… not a great track record; in fact, it was the kind of track record that could very easily end with someone finding her body in a ditch somewhere.

And now she had this. This thing, this new revenge by Sunset Shimmer – Bon Bon had no doubt whatsoever that it was her; it was right up her tricksy alleyway – that had brought down new troubles upon her head.

The dorm room had been her sanctuary. The team had been her sanctuary. No matter how hated she was by Blake’s friends, no matter how badly she was doing in her mission, no matter how badly she seemed to be doing in school, her team, her friends, would always be there for her: Lyra, who had been by her side since Canterlot; Sky, who was game for just about anything; Dove, who had seemed like a part of the team long before he actually joined it officially.

They were her rock and her balm, and now both those things were under threat.

How did I let it come to this?

She knew how: she had followed her instructions. But what instructions! What sense did they make? What was the point of it all? She wondered if the only point was to land her in this trouble, to take away the one thing that she could rely on, to punish her for her incompetence.

If it was so, she felt appropriately chastised, and punished far more than she deserved.

Just because she had yet to notch up a notable success didn’t mean that she deserved to have the only good things in her life right now taken away, did it?

Bon Bon found that her breathing was growing heavier. She needed some way to explain this. She needed some way to make it seem okay. She needed some way to make herself not look like a monster.

She needed an excuse, since she couldn’t exactly deploy the truth as a defence.

She needed someone to say something and give her some sign of where she stood with them all.

Of course, she also feared what they might say because it would give her an indication of where she stood with them all.

“So,” Sky said, breaking the silence, “are we just not going to talk about the fact that you’re a genocidal sociopath?”

“I’m not a sociopath,” Bon Bon moaned. “I’m not even genocidal. Wait, no, I didn’t mean to say it like that; I mean I’m not genocidal; I do not support genocide in any way, shape or form.” At least I hope I don’t.

“Then why did you say it?” Lyra demanded, her voice sharper than her sword seemed most of the time.

Bon Bon ventured to look up at her. “I did this-”

“No!” Lyra snapped. “No, Bon Bon, you are not going to say that you did this for me. I never asked you to do this. I never asked for anything like this! I didn’t ask you to paint Team Sapphire’s door, and I certainly didn’t ask you to out yourself as a racist! Have you always felt that way? The entire time we went through Canterlot, were you hoping for Rainbow Dash to die? Or Ditzy? Were you just pretending to be cool with faunus all those years?”

“I am cool with faunus,” Bon Bon insisted. “And I never wanted Rainbow or Ditzy to die, or at least not just because they were faunus. I said those things to get a rise out of Blake!” She spread her arms out wide in exasperation. “I was acting! Why is that so hard for everyone to believe? Do you all really think that I… that I get off on the idea of mass murder or something? Just because of one thing that I said? Lyra, you’ve known me for years; do you really think that I could pretend to be someone else so seamlessly for all that time?”

Lyra frowned. “I… I don’t want to think that,” she said softly. “And… I guess you’ve never done anything racist before, at least not before the truth about Blake came out.”

“The thing with Blake has nothing to do with race,” Bon Bon vowed.

“Then what does it have to do with?” Lyra demanded.

Envy. The truth of the matter was that Bon Bon really didn’t like Blake, and while she was acting on orders, the fact of the matter was that there were times when she came very close to hating the catgirl, just not because she was a catgirl. No, Bon Bon hated Blake because of how infuriatingly lucky she was. Here was a terrorist, a former member of the White Fang, someone who had killed people, someone who had waged war against humanity, someone who had – until recently – been an enemy of mankind in every sense of the word. Someone who deserved to rot in jail for what she’d done. And yet, because she mouthed a few pieties about being sorry and regretting it and all that kind of stuff, people thronged about her, lined up to do her favours, showered her with love and praise. Rainbow Dash had used her precious influence with General Ironwood to extend the wing of Atlesian protection over her; Sunset Shimmer, the most self-centred person that Bon Bon had ever met, had put herself out to join with Rainbow in getting her out of prison and accepted back at Beacon; Team Sapphire had accommodated her in their room; Team Iron had accommodated her in their team; Dove, who was supposed to be Bon Bon and Lyra’s friend, had exchanged one of the best teams in the school for one of the worst in order to make room for Blake. Sunset had been willing to risk her reputation by resurrecting Anon-a-Miss to avenge a slight on Blake, of all people. Everyone loved Blake, everyone showered her with affection; the word was that she’d been offered the chance to transfer to Atlas at year’s end. Everything that she had done, every sin that she had committed, all forgotten.

And for what? What did she have that made her so awesome? She’d been a rotten team leader, she’d never shown any sign of giving a damn about anybody but herself, she either said nothing or else stuck her foot in her mouth, she didn’t look before she leapt, so why were so many people – people who ought to have known better – so enamoured with her?

And what stuck in Bon Bon’s craw, what made her burn with envious rage at all the good things that had been bestowed on Blake, was the scratching sense in the back of her mind that if her own, comparatively minor, offences came to light, there would be no flood of people willing to forgive, coddle, and accommodate her for what she’d done – and she’d barely done anything!

Case in point: right now! Blake had committed murders! She had cut down men and women serving Atlas and the SDC and for these horrors, Atlas sought her services, but Bon Bon had said a few ill-judged words, and yet, she was the most monstrous creature to ever draw breath, a plague carrier who had to be shunned by all good and virtuous folk. So much for tolerance, indeed.

“It has to do with the fact that she’s lucky,” Bon Bon declared. “It has to do with the fact that she has been handed everything, in spite of what she is – a terrorist – and everything she’s done. It has to do with the fact that I’m the bad guy for a few words when she is the reason why some poor kid doesn’t have a father any more. It has to do with -- you know what this has to do with? -- it has to do with the fact that she’s a bully. She’s a bully with a persecution complex, and I can’t stand it! Me and Cardin, were we bullying her? Two Atlesian students came to her aid and threatened to beat us up if we didn’t make ourselves scarce, in our own laundry room! She’s got General Ironwood and the Ace of Canterlot in her corner, and Sunset Shimmer lashing out on her behalf so that she doesn’t have to get her fair hands dirty. She plays the victim, acts like a few words are an assault on the sanctity of her person, and meanwhile, what do you think she did in the White Fang? She picked on people who were weaker than she was: shopkeepers, security guards, ordinary people just trying to get by. People who weren’t going to fight back against someone trained to huntress proficiency. Just people, like Granny Smith or the Cakes. She picked on them because they couldn’t stand up to her, because she could. But sure, she’s the victim in all of this, poor Blake. It makes me sick. I hate her – fine, I admit that – but I’m not a racist; I can get along with other faunus just fine. I only said the things I said because I knew it would push her buttons.”

“And you wanted to push her buttons because…?” Sky trailed off invitingly.

Bon Bon twisted her body around. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “I wanted her to take a swing at me or Cardin so I could get her into trouble.

Sky was leaning against the wall of the dorm room. “Even though, with all the institutional support you’ve just described, didn’t it occur to you that something like that would slide off her like water? I mean, do you think anyone would care if she punched you after you insulted her like that?”

“Rainbow Dash wouldn’t care,” Lyra murmured. “After you said that, she’d probably cheer Blake on.”

“She would have cheered Blake on before I said that, because it’s Blake,” Bon Bon muttered.

“You’re overreacting to this,” Lyra insisted.

“She’s become Blake’s acolyte, and in the meantime, she acts like she doesn’t know us at all,” Bon-Bon protested.

“She’d probably rather that she didn’t know you after what you said in the laundry room,” Lyra declared.

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Sky reminded them. “Why did you think you could get rid of someone who, and I want to point out again that you just proved you know damn well how many friends she has, is at the centre of such a wide and formidable network? Did you really think that a few petty incidents of harassment were going to make Beacon too hot for her?”

Bon Bon wouldn’t claim to know what was going on inside the mind of her dear leader, but she was starting to think that it wasn’t really about Blake at all anymore. It had started out as being about Blake, Bon Bon had been ordered to pass on the footage to the VPD in order to get Blake arrested so that she’d stop interfering in the operations of the White Fang, but now? Now, Bon Bon had begun to think that all of this wasn’t about Blake so much as it was about making Sunset Shimmer mad. Of course, Bon Bon wasn’t sure why Sunset needed to be enraged – still less enraged at Bon Bon – but it was about the only thing that made sense at this point.

For a given value of sense, anyway.

She sighed, and she didn’t even have to fake it; she genuinely felt exhausted by all of this. “Someone had to do something,” she said feebly.

“You did something, alright,” Sky muttered. “You ruined your own life. And ours, for that matter.”

“Sky, that’s enough,” Lyra whispered.

“You do realise that we’re all tarred by association at this point?” Sky asked her. “Our lives aren’t going to be worth living in this school. It doesn’t help that your defence is, like, the worst defence in the history of defences.”

“That’s enough,” Lyra said, more in weariness than in annoyances. “It’ll be rough for a while, but it’ll blow over. These things always do. Remember Anon-a-Miss? After a while, it just became something that had happened.”

Bon Bon hesitated. “So… we’re good?”

“Well, I think you’re an idiot,” Lyra said. “Which is a new thing for me, feeling like the smart one.” She grinned. “Seriously, you shouldn’t have done any of this stuff. I’m just glad you didn’t do it to try and avenge me or something, because then, I would have felt guilty.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I think it’s a little disturbing how vindictive you’ve been,” Sky admitted. “But I’m glad that you’re not… what you sounded like.”

“Then you believe me?” asked Bon-Bon pleadingly.

“Don’t sound so happy about it,” Sky told her. “But, yes, I believe you. You’re our team leader, and I’m not going to turn on you just because you made a mistake.”

Bon Bon started to smile, but the smile faded as she remembered that she hadn’t shown Blake the same loyalty; she wondered if Sky was commenting on that, but didn’t quite have the heart to ask. He might think that she was a hypocrite, but at least he had her back still; that was the main thing. She looked at Dove, who had remained silent throughout, not a word passing his lips.

“You’ve been very quiet,” she said. “What do you think about all this?”

“I’m new here,” Dove said. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“That’s not true,” Bon Bon said firmly. “You’re our friend, you’ve been our friend since the year began, and what you have to say matters to us. It matters to me.”

Nevertheless, Dove held his piece. “I… I could believe that you meant those things you said.”

Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. Maybe I should have known better than to ask. “Right… thanks,” she muttered dryly.

“Do you two remember what a hayseed I was when I first got here?” Dove demanded, gesturing to both Bon Bon and Lyra from where he sat on his bed. “I’d never seen a faunus before I came to Beacon. I thought they were… I thought they were the strangest things I’d ever seen. Sunset really tore into me when she caught me staring at her pony ears at lunch on the first day of class. No faunus ever came to our village, which meant that the White Fang never came there either. I’d never even heard of the White Fang, and when I did… it’s horrible, and it’s the sort of thing that huntsmen should be fighting against, but at the same time… it wasn’t something that I’d had to endure. Not like you two, in Atlas, or even Sky. I know that prejudice is wrong, and I know that as huntsmen and huntresses, we probably have a duty to stand against hatred and ignorance, but at the same time… if I’d had to live under the shadow of the White Fang, I don’t think I can say that I wouldn’t have started to feel… you know. And, thinking about what you said… I see where you’re coming from. A huntsman of Beacon swears that his might will uphold the weak, but so many of our fellow students seem ranged around the strong.”

“Did you miss the part where Bon Bon said she wasn’t really a racist?” Sky asked.

“I heard,” Dove said quietly. “And I’m glad that you don’t want to kill everyone just because of how they’re born. But I understand a little better now why you don’t like Blake. Thank you, for sharing that with us, for trusting us with it.”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” Bon Bon asked.

“You’re asking that?” Sky demanded. “You, of all people?”

“I’m allowed to not want Dove to follow in my footsteps,” Bon Bon replied. “Seriously, don’t do anything about Blake; you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t,” Dove assured her. “I can see why you feel the way you do, but at the same time, I also trust… not Professor Ozpin, maybe, but I do trust our teachers. We’ve been put under our care because they’ve proven themselves worthy of that charge, and we have to respect that. If they think Blake deserves a place here, then I’m not going to disagree with them.”

“Why don’t you trust Professor Ozpin?” Sky asked.

Dove shook his head. “It’s too long a story, and I’m not going to tell it now. The point is, you don’t have to worry, I might see your point about Blake, but I’m not going to act on it. And I’m not going to turn away from you because of some words said in anger. I’m a member of Team Bluebell, your teammate, and your friend.” He smiled. “You could say and do much worse, and you wouldn’t be rid of me. I… I am at your service, in war and peace.”

Bon Bon felt a little sickly to hear him say that; he had no idea what he was saying, what he might be getting himself into… and yet, there was a part of her which thought that he would say the same thing even if he did know, because that was the kind of person he was. She forced a smile onto her face. “You’ve got to start talking less like the girl from that book you gave to Ruby.”

“Olivia? I wasn’t talking like Olivia,” Dove protested. “If I was talking like Olivia, I would say this.” He rose to his feet, only to drop to one knee in front of her. “I know not the events that lie ahead, only a general foreboding of many storms of war to break upon our heads, yet not from fear of any thunderous clamour shall I break with thee. Verily, I say that not for honour nor renown would I be parted from you, because I-”

“Oh, stop it!” Bon Bon said, hitting him with a pillow snatched from atop her bed. “I get the point,” she added as Sky sniggered.

Dove bowed to her as he rose to his feet. “There is something that we need to discuss,” he said. “If you’re sure that Sunset did this-”

“I’m sure,” Bon Bon declared.

“Then shall I tell Pyrrha that our agreement is void?” Dove asked, glancing from Bon Bon to Lyra. “It… there is a part of me that thinks it doesn’t seem right to associate with them after what their leader has done to you.”

Lyra frowned. “That’s just guilt by association, isn’t it? As bad as… well, it isn’t right.”

“Or do you just want to learn from Pyrrha Nikos?” Bon Bon asked.

“Do you want me not to?” Lyra asked. “If you don’t want me to, then-“

“No,” Bon Bon said. “It’s fine. Like you said, it isn’t Pyrrha’s fault or Jaune’s. Go, both of you. Have fun. Or learn lots, or whatever. Don’t worry about me.”

Let me worry about me.

And whatever I’ll be asked to do next.

The sword flew out of Lyra's hand and hit the stony ground with a metallic clang.

Lyra sighed dispiritedly. "Great," she murmured. "Perfect."

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha apologized. "I should have-"

"Held back even more?" Lyra asked. "Don't pretend that you weren't holding back."

"Of course I was," Pyrrha replied mildly. "Do you think that I don't hold back when I'm with Jaune? Exerting all my strength against you might inflate my ego, but it will not help either of you to learn; it wasn't my intention to discourage you."

Lyra exhaled through her nostrils. "Maybe it wasn't," she said, leaving it unspoken but implicit that Pyrrha had managed to do exactly that regardless.

Pyrrha's arms fell, letting Miló and Akoúo̱ fall to her sides. They stood before the garages, bathed in moonlight, alone and unobserved; no one was taking their vehicles out for a spin on a school night. "Do you want to be a huntress?"

"Yes," Lyra replied immediately. "I'd like to be a great huntress."

"If that is so, then you shouldn't give up so easily."

Lyra bent down to recover her sword. "Why not?"

"Because if you do, then you will never become a great huntress," Pyrrha told her. "Or even a good one."

Lyra scowled. "What if I can't? What if Professor Goodwitch was just full of it when she said that those at the bottom could climb up and those at the top could fall? I've not seen much sign of it."

"Then you haven't been paying enough attention," Pyrrha said softly.

Lyra was silent for a moment. "I guess Jaune has been getting better," she conceded. "What's his secret?"

"He works hard," Pyrrha summarized.

Lyra winced. "Point taken," she said, twirling her sword experimentally in her hands. "All the same, he's not improving that much; does he ever wonder what the point is?"

"Sometimes," Pyrrha admitted. "That's why I asked Dove to help him tonight, so that he can see how much progress he's making against someone closer to his own level."

"While still being above it," Lyra declared. "You might disagree, but I don't think that he'll catch up to Dove, even if Dove is closer to him in skill than either of them are to you. Dove works hard himself, and he's stronger than he looks."

"So is Jaune," Pyrrha said.

Lyra smiled. "I don't suppose you'd like to bet on it."

"No, I'm afraid I wouldn't," Pyrrha said. "Jaune… might not appreciate it if he found out."

"Suit yourself," Lyra replied. "Dove might not like it either; I don't think he'd approve of gambling, so I probably shouldn't." She hesitated. "But all the same, I hope that Jaune doesn't surpass him."

"For the pride of Team Bluebell?" Pyrrha guessed.

"I suppose so," Lyra acknowledged. "But not just in the bragging rights sense. But there's a line between the chosen and the rest, and I think that I'd like to know that at least one member of our team was on the chosen side of the line."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "Do you really believe that?"

"Don't you?" asked Lyra in disbelief.

"You say that like I should."

"Because you ought to," Lyra said. "You're the princess of Mistral-"

"No, I'm not," Pyrrha told her. "Even my epithet remembers that I have no crown, and it's not a name that I'm particularly fond of in any case." If she had to be called something other than Pyrrha Nikos, then she would rather be the Invincible Girl than the Princess Without a Crown; the former name, at least, she had earned by her own skill in the arena; the latter was the result of nothing more than birth.

"You're the heir to the throne-"

"The throne is empty; Mistral has no Emperor now."

"You are living proof that some people are just born better than others," Lyra continued, unabated. "What are the odds that the last scion of the royal line would also become the Champion of Mistral? Not only the rightful inheritor of the kingdom, but also its greatest warrior too."

"That is just a title, not a truth," Pyrrha informed her. "And a title, what is more, for which I worked very hard to overcome some very challenging adversaries. I wasn't handed those trophies because of who I was."

"Don't Mistralians believe that those of high blood, with a family history of great and noble deeds, inherit the virtue of their ancestors?" Lyra asked. "The history and honour of the city passed down through generations?"

"That… is an old-fashioned belief," Pyrrha said. "But I suppose… I cannot deny that I feel something like it. For me, though, it is less of an entitlement than an obligation, to honour the line of my ancestors by doing as they did, taking up arms in a noble cause, fighting valiantly, defending those who shelter beneath my sword as a shepherd defends their flock. But it is still my choice. My… inherited virtue, if you wish; it inspires me, but it does not command me. And I do not believe that it makes me… it does not make me skilled."

"No?"

"No," Pyrrha repeated firmly. "Or else why is my closest rival in the arena a girl of no family, born in poverty, on the lower slopes of the mountain, who nevertheless has attained fame and glory and enviable prowess all through nothing but toil and sweat? Arslan is… far more admirable than I am, a better role model, an example to follow. If I discourage you by my mere existence, then look to her to be encouraged once again." She paused. "It is unusual to hear an Atlesian talk of inherited virtue in that way."

The corner of Lyra's lip twitched upwards. "I sometimes wish that I'd been born a Mistralian instead of an Atlesian," she confessed. "Heresy, I know; Rainbow Dash would freak out if she heard me say it."

Pyrrha smiled momentarily. "She loves her country very much."

"A little too much, don't you think?" Lyra asked.

"I… I'm not sure that it's possible to love too much," Pyrrha replied. "Whether we talk of love of country or of people. Love is such a gift, with the power to change, if not the world, then how the world appears to us. Is it ever possible to have too much of it?"

"I think it depends on how that love is returned," Lyra said. "If Jaune didn't give a damn about you, then yes, you could love him too much, and easily."

"You think that Atlas… doesn't love Rainbow back?"

"I'm not sure that our kingdom knows how to love."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Pyrrha admitted. "General Ironwood esteems her highly and rewards her loyalty with honour-"

"General Ironwood isn't Atlas, no matter what Rainbow or Twilight think," Lyra said. "General Ironwood is just one man. Those who call Rainbow Dash the Ace of Canterlot are just a handful of students who clustered around her and her friends. In Mistral, the deeds of the heroes of a thousand years ago or more will be remembered as long as the tales are told of their deeds to inspire future generations, but in Atlas, we don't even remember who led the armies of Mantle in the Great War. Our monuments are not to those who gave their lives but to the idea of them, the sons of the north who did their duty. Atlas doesn't know how to love because it expects devotion as its due; Atlas doesn't remember its dead because it expects its children to die for it. Rainbow can fight for Atlas until her body gives out, but Atlas will not remember her when she's gone."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I must confess… as much as I think that my Atlesian friends would take issue with some or all of that, you make it sound… rather grim. I think that if Ruby were here, she would say the question of memory is irrelevant so long as we get the job done, but… I suppose I am sufficiently Mistralian that I'm not sure I could be satisfied with that. Is that why you chose Beacon instead of Atlas?"

Lyra nodded. "Atlas is… not for me. I don't think I'll ever go back. I may not have the skill to be celebrated in song, but I can at least write Dove's song, or Bon Bon's. In Atlas, we don't even do that."

"I'm a little surprised you didn't go to Haven," Pyrrha murmured.

"Maybe in another life," Lyra replied. "But Haven… it's just not that good, is it? I guess that's why you're here at Beacon, too."

"Beacon's pre-eminence is one of the reasons." Pyrrha admitted. She hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Lyra."

"For what?" Lyra asked curiously.

"For not mentioning Sunset, or trying to turn me against her."

Lyra waved one dismissive hand. "I wouldn't do that. I don't like her, but you do, and if you've chosen her as a friend, then I'm not going to try and get in the way of that. We need our friends to get by in this world; taking them away from others is… it's just a dick move, isn't it?" She grinned. "Thank you for not mentioning any of the weird things that I believe in."

"It's not my place to comment," Pyrrha murmured.

"I suppose," Lyra said, "that I just want the world to be a little more… idiosyncratic, you know? That's another reason why I'd never go to Atlas; it feels like we're trying to make the whole world samey, you know? Identical airships, identical ranks of soldiers; instead of huntsmen and huntresses in cool outfits that speak to their souls, we get specialists in uniforms. It's all so… drab and boring. I'd like for something to shake it up a little, you know? Even if it is something bizarre like a magical talking horse coming to our world to save us all."

"I… think I understand, even if I do not share your wish," Pyrrha said gently. "And now, I think that we'd better try again, don't you?"

"I guess," Lyra replied. "I've probably stalled for long enough."

"You were stalling?"

Lyra looked abashed for a moment. "Yes," she said. "And you're about to see exactly why."

Dove had his free hand tucked behind his back as he slashed downwards with his sword.

Jaune took the blow upon his shield, turning it aside and leaving Dove’s guard wide open for his counterstroke, a diagonal cut of his own across his temporary sparring partner’s chest.

Dove retreated in the face of the blow, scuttling backwards as Crocea Mors cut the empty air before him. Jaune followed up, his shield held before him, using it as a weapon, the way that Pyrrha had taught him, to lash out at Dove’s face, forcing him backwards.

Dove fell back. If this had been Pyrrha, then she would have tried to manoeuvre around his shield and flank him, but Dove simply fell back in a straight line, allowing Jaune to pursue.

They sparred around the farm, swords ringing to disturb the chickens trying to sleep not far away; their excited clucking formed a backdrop to the struggle as though they were invested in it. In reality, they probably just wanted the two boys to shut up. It seemed that they would never get used to it, no matter how much time Pyrrha and Jaune spent there.

Jaune led with his shield again, thrusting it out, jabbing with his sword from over the top of his shield. Dove fell back, maintaining the curiously old-fashioned posture, one hand clasped him as though he were about to bow.

Jaune and Dove stared at one another, two pairs of blue eyes locked together.

Jaune lunged forward, teeth gritted, lashing out with his shield-

Dove brought his free hand and grabbed the lip of Jaune’s shield, pulling it downwards and towards him. Jaune slashed at Dove’s fingers with Crocea Mors, but though Dove grimaced, he endured the pain, pulling Jaune’s shield and Jaune with it, pulling him forwards irresistibly – Dove was pretty strong for his size, almost as strong as Cardin – even as Dove sidestepped, tossing Jaune aside with such force that he was flung to the ground, rolling onto his side.

He had to get up quick; he had to be ready to-

Dove kicked him in the face as Jaune rose into a crouch, punting him flat onto his back as Crocea Mors slipped from his hand.

Dove stood over him. His expression was even for a moment before he held out one hand to Jaune. “Pyrrha never fights dirty when she’s teaching you, does she?”

Jaune accepted his hand and allowed the stronger boy to help him to his feet. “No,” he admitted. “I’m not sure if Pyrrha even knows how to fight dirty.”

“Oh, I’ll bet she knows, someone with her experience,” Dove replied. “From what I have seen since coming here, there is little honour to be found in battle.”

Jaune recovered his sword. “It depends, don’t you think?”

Dove blinked. “How do you mean?”

“I mean that the cause is honourable, even if our methods aren’t,” Jaune said. “If we save lives, I’m not sure that it matters how we did it.”

Dove nodded. “I agree,” he said. “We should always strive to do the right thing, but the right thing should be defined by ends, not means. We do right by those we care for, by those we have sworn to protect… by whatever means.” He hesitated for a moment and cracked a wry smile. “I’m not sure that Lyra would agree with me.”

Jaune snorted. “I’m not sure that Pyrrha would agree either,” he replied. “Mind you, I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her about it. Maybe you’re right, maybe she does have an arsenal of dirty tricks I haven’t seen yet.”

“Or maybe she is simply so skilled that she has no need of such,” Dove said. “Unlike mere unskilled mortals like us.”

“You’re pretty good yourself,” Jaune told him.

“So are you,” Dove said.

Jaune shrugged. “If you say so. If that’s true, it’s because I’ve had a great teacher.”

Dove chuckled. “Pyrrha said that you lacked confidence; that’s why I’m here. To show you that you are making progress. How am I doing so far?”

“Not that great,” Jaune admitted.

“Would you like to go again?” Dove asked.

“Sure,” Jaune agreed, walking a few feet away from Dove before turning to face him again. Dove stood as he had before, his short sword held before him and his free hand clasped behind his back.

I won’t make that mistake again.

The moonlight shone down upon them both. Jaune stared into Dove’s eyes, trying to divine what he might do.

There was no one there to announce the beginning of their second bout; rather, they arrived at an unspoken mutual consent: they were both ready, armed and well prepared, and so they could and would begin.

Dirty tricks, huh?

Jaune charged with a great shout, throwing out his shield to his side, leaving himself wide open as he rushed forward, Crocea Mors raised overhead. Dove stepped eagerly into the opening, thrusting with the point. Jaune arrested his progress, or tried to at least, and brought his shield back to strike Dove on the exposed arm hard enough to knock him off balance. Dove stumbled, turning to present his side to Jaune, and Jaune brought Crocea Mors down in a slashing stroke that raked Dove down the flank.

He stepped back, bringing his blade up for another stroke.

Dove lunged at him, not with the sword but with his whole body, bulling into Jaune shoulder-first. Jaune would have looked to sidestep it, ideally, to flow around Dove like water, but he was too close and too fast for Jaune to get out of the way in time, and the best he could manage to do was check the attack with his shield rather than his body. Nevertheless, Dove pushed him backwards, Jaune’s trainers making trails in the earth before him. Dove was bent down, almost bent double, jabbing at Jaune with his sword even as Jaune whacked him with his own blade.

Jaune quickened the pace of his retreat, hoping to use Dove’s momentum against him the way that Dove had done to him, but Dove simply let go of Jaune’s shield and allowed Jaune to retreat while he stood still.

Dove lowered his sword a little. “You learn quickly,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean it,” Dove insisted. “Lyra…” He trailed off.

“Like I said, I’ve had a good teacher,” Jaune said. His eyes widened a little as he realised how that might sound. “I mean, not that I’m not sure you’re a good teacher yourself, it’s just-”

“It’s fine,” Dove assured him, raising his free hand. “I don’t expect to be put on the same level as Pyrrha Nikos. That’s the main reason I agreed to this: Lyra’s going to get a better class of instruction for one night.”

“Pyrrha knows what she’s talking about,” Jaune agreed. “She really knows… but I know from experience that there’s nothing quite like being taught by a friend. Knowing that they’re on your side… it’s a big help.”

“'Friend'?”

“We didn’t start off dating,” Jaune pointed out.

“True,” Dove murmured. “Still, just because Lyra and Pyrrha aren’t close, I hope that she gets something out of this. She… needs more than I can give her.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say, what would be permissible for him to say, what Dove would take offence at. And besides, he really wasn’t sure that he had the right to judge anyone else considering what a state he’d been in when he arrived at Beacon. “Are you worried about her?”

Dove huffed, turning away from Jaune, presenting his profile. “She’s my friend; I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t worry,” he declared. “I joined their team because I didn’t want to see another friend disappear, to be left to wonder what had happened to them… without me. But I’m not Yang; I can’t protect a whole team by myself.”

“Lyra graduated from a combat school, right?”

“Yes, but…” Dove trailed off. “I worry anyway.” He glanced at Jaune. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Not needing to worry about your teammates because they’re all so much stronger than you?”

“You think that I don’t worry about Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, an incredulous note entering his voice. “You think that I don’t worry about all of them? Sure, they’re all stronger than I am, but that doesn’t make them invincible, and I know that. Ruby almost died last semester, and then… you’ve been to Benni Havens’ right?”

Dove nodded. “Sure I have; we all like it there.”

“I’m afraid that we’ll end up like so many of those pictures on the wall,” Jaune murmured. “With our smiles gone and empty spaces. That’s why I train every night, so that I can pull my weight alongside the people who mean so much to me.”

Once more, Dove nodded, but more slowly now, as if he was considering what Jaune had said. “You know what?” Dove said. “I think that’s the best reason to be here, so help me. Maybe that makes me a poor fit to be a huntsman, maybe it makes us both a poor fit and we should be chastised for not living up to the ideals of the school and we should be eager to fight for all mankind. But I don’t know all mankind, I can’t imagine all mankind, I can’t… I can’t get my arms around it. So I’ll fight for the people I know and care about, and good for you for doing the same.”

“Uh, thanks,” Jaune murmured. “I hadn’t quite thought of it like that before, but… yeah, I guess that is why I’m here now.” His childish dreams of comic-book heroism were gone now; he no longer thought that he could or would save the day simply by striding out onto the field. He was here for them, for Team Sapphire, for three great girls whom he was privileged to stand beside.

Maybe that wasn’t the right thing, but it felt good enough for him.

Dove sheathed his sword upon his hip. “I don’t know if you want to go again,” he said. “If you do, that’s fine, but before we do, can I… put a dampener on the mood for a second? You know that your team leader is Anon-a-Miss, right?”

“I know that’s what Bon Bon said,” Jaune replied, his voice chilling a little. “I don’t think that she has any proof.”

“Bon Bon isn’t the type to make wild accusations with no basis,” Dove replied.

“Apparently, she’s the kind of person who wants to kill all the faunus,” Jaune pointed out.

Dove cringed. “And you know that Sunset leaked that audio as well.”

“Even if that were true, it still wouldn’t be as bad as Bon Bon wanting to kill all the faunus, I mean… come on!” Jaune cried.

“I’m not defending what Bon Bon said; it was stupid and wrong, and if I was a faunus-”

“You don’t have to be a faunus; you just have to know a faunus,” Jaune replied hotly. “I didn’t think you had anything against Blake.”

“I don’t,” Dove insisted. “But Bon Bon… was an idiot, but she’s my idiot, my friend, and so I won’t turn against her or abandon her or… or judge her too harshly, even if others do. Even if she deserves it. Just like how you don’t want to believe that Sunset is the one behind these leaks because she’s your friend, and you don’t want to judge her.”

Jaune frowned. “What’s your point? That what Bon Bon did is okay because-”

“No,” Dove said firmly. “No, I’m not saying that. You won’t hear me say that. But… I would like for this to be the end of it. I promise that I’ll do everything I can to stop Bon Bon taking any more asinine actions against Blake, and I would like to know that Sunset is going to leave well enough alone for now. Standing up for her friend I can understand; tit for tat, I can understand; but it’s done now. She’s won. She’s destroyed Bon Bon’s reputation and made Lyra a laughing stock, which she didn’t deserve, no matter what Bon Bon did. I… don’t want to see that continue. I won’t let it continue.”

“You don’t know that Sunset did this,” Jaune insisted. “You don’t know that Sunset did anything.”

“Who else would have done it?”

“I don’t know, that doesn’t prove anything!”

“Can you look me in the eye,” Dove said, “and tell me that you’re certain that she couldn’t have done this? That she wouldn’t?”

Jaune said nothing. It was a harder question to answer than he would have liked it to be. He remembered how Sunset had reacted when Cardin had tried to blackmail him; sure, she’d helped him out of that particular spot, but she’d gotten very… very territorial about it.

“Cardin Winchester isn’t going to get what’s coming to him.” That’s what she said.

Well, that certainly came true in a big way, didn’t it?

Dove gave a knowing nod in response to Jaune’s silence. “That’s about what I thought,” he said.

No Peace for the Wicked (New)

No Peace for the Wicked

Jaune and Pyrrha were training, and Ruby was in the dorm room still working on her coursework with Rainbow Dash. Supposedly, anyway; that was what they said she was doing, but as Penny had been with Rainbow Dash coming in as Sunset had been going out, she thought that there might be something more informal planned.

But, if Ruby wanted to have some fun, play some video games, or watch a show or something with her friend, then Sunset wasn’t going to object. In any case, in anticipation of Ruby using the dorm room, Sunset had taken herself down to the library where she could work in peace.

It was dark. Mister Tukson – fancy him being here, the Beacon librarian – had retired to… wherever he went – Sunset presumed that he had some sort of grace and favour apartment somewhere on the campus – and there were no other students in the library this late. Most of the lights, which worked on motion sensors, had been turned off, and Sunset sat at a table in one of the rare patches of illuminated space, with darkness pressing in all around her.

It was quite cosy, really. It reminded Sunset of when she was a filly, studying magic by the light of her horn, sneaking into the palace library after hours, with only the guards on night patrol for company.

Funnily enough, studying magic was exactly what she was doing right now.

She had her books with her – the books on myth and legend that Twilight had given her – but they were not opened. Sunset would check details if she had to, but she trusted herself to remember most of the salient details.

Which was good, because the other piece to this puzzle was something that she didn’t have written down.

It was written down, but not in a place that she had immediate access too.

Sunset hadn’t spoken to her teammates about the things that she’d read about: the prophets or the Red Queens or whatever else you wanted to call them. She hadn’t really seen the point; it didn’t affect them, and there was little purpose in bringing up mysteries to which she had no answers and which had no relevance to the issues at hand. The pursuit of magic was Twilight’s interest, and she knew all of this already and – presumably, Sunset hadn’t talked to her about it – had all of the same questions and the same lack of answers that Sunset did. In any case, Ruby’s only interest in magic was with her silver eyes, of which Sunset had no more information, and Jaune and Pyrrha had no interest in it at all.

So Sunset had kept her findings to herself; she was fortunate that Ruby was not so close-mouthed.

But then, everyone in the team was interested in Summer Rose and her magical eyes.

And what a story Ruby had had for them, about the latest entries in her mother’s diary.

“Fire, wind, lightning, and ice?” Jaune said. “So, she wasn’t using dust?”

“I don’t think so,” Ruby replied. “I mean, I guess she might have been, but that doesn’t explain why my Mom sounded so impressed by what she did. I mean, Mom wasn’t some ignorant yokel from the middle of nowhere… or at least, I don’t think she was. Dad doesn’t really talk about where Mom came from. He doesn’t really talk about her at all.” She bowed her head, momentarily falling silent.

Sunset and Pyrrha each reached out from where they sat on either side of Ruby to place a hand upon her shoulder. Pyrrha said, “From what you’ve told us, your mother seems to imply that she came from outside the kingdoms.”

“I guess,” Ruby said. “But even outside the kingdoms, they have dust, right? It might not be SDC dust, but they know what it is? I don’t think that Mom would be gushing about something that’s so… normal, you know? Plus, it doesn’t say anything about her using a weapon to channel dust, just that she created fire and all the rest. And how would you use ice dust to freeze leaves? No, I don’t think that’s it, I don’t see how it can be.”

“It might be a semblance,” Pyrrha suggested.

“A very versatile semblance, if so,” Sunset said.

“Versatile semblances exist,” Pyrrha countered. “The hereditary Schnee semblance, for one.”

“Sure, but the Schnee semblance stands out because it’s so ridiculous it isn’t fair,” Sunset said. “Most people aren’t that lucky; that’s the point.”

“You… are not wrong,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s a pity that your mother didn’t get the chance to ask this Auburn how she did it,” Sunset said.

“Uncle Qrow needed help,” Ruby replied, a touch defensively.

“I know,” Sunset assured her. “But… all the same, it is a pity.”

Jaune licked his lips. “Well… since somebody has to bring up the goliath in the room… could it be magic?”

Sunset blinked. “I can’t say,” she said, and she wasn’t lying because she really couldn’t say for sure, having no proof or firsthand experiences and nothing but myths to go on. At the same time, she could have said a lot more than she did say; she could have told them about the prophets and about how Auburn’s abilities matched with the fantastical feats that were recorded of those chosen by God or the gods; she could have told them what she had surmised about the way the powers were passed on, based on all the stories taken together. She could have told them a great deal.

But she didn’t, because she wanted to get it all straight in her own head first.

All she said was, “Certainly, you could produce a lot of the effects described using… my kind of magic. But I don’t think that’s what we’re looking at here.”

“Why not?” Ruby asked. “How do we know that Auburn wasn’t… someone like you?”

One of these days, I’ll have to tell you what I really am, and then you’ll get it. “Because, amongst… amongst my people, powers are separated in ways that wouldn’t allow for one person to do all of this.” The wind was a pegasus power, as was the lightning, depending on exactly how it was conjured, while pyromancy was a unicorn technique. The only way one pony could deploy both was if Auburn had been an alicorn, and Sunset highly doubted that; she had never heard of any alicorn named Auburn, nor or any alicorn going missing. There hadn’t been any alicorns bar Celestia in two lifetimes before Cadance’s ascension; Sunset knew that for a fact. She had spent quite a lot of time researching the subject. “But it does sound similar to Twilight’s story of her and her family being saved on the road by a mysterious woman wielding the power of the elements.”

“Huh,” Ruby said. “Do you think I should go and talk to Twilight about this then?”

“I… I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sunset said, remembering how Twilight had been quite dispirited about the whole business the last time they had spoken about it. “Leave it with me for a little bit, okay? I want to see if I can find a little more to go on.”

Perhaps she ought to have told them that she already had more to go on. Perhaps that would have been the right thing to do? But why did they need to know? It wasn’t as if any of them were particularly interested. If it had been Silver Eyes, then it might have been different; that was something that Ruby was interested in and that the others were interested in because it involved Ruby; if Sunset had more knowledge about that, then she would have told them all at once. Sadly, the books that she had found so far made no mention of them.

Knowledge of their existence had faded far more completely than knowledge of what, for want of a better word, Sunset was calling prophets; it sounded better than Red Queens.

If there was one thing that might make Sunset doubt her certainty that Professor Ozpin was at the sinister web of intrigue and malevolence, it was the fact that he had failed to make knowledge of prophets disappear to the same extent as the knowledge of Silver Eyes. Surely, a true spider could have done both?

But there were so many other things to make her suspicious of the man that this one thing hardly counted.

That was another reason why she had kept all of this to herself: her friends had made it clear that they found her suspicion of the headmaster to be risible, and she wasn’t inclined to have another argument with them about it. She would just go her own way, following where the evidence led, until she reached the point where her proof became so incontrovertible that they had to believe her.

She felt as though she might be getting closer to that now.

When Sunset had finished reading through the mythology surrounding the prophets, their replacement by the Red Queens, and those queens’ own fall, she had been left with the question of what had happened to their powers. The wizard and his five familiar-sounding companions had hunted down the tyrants who had, between them, held too much of Remnant under subjugation, and then after that… nothing. Magic had, to all appearances, gone out of the world. The Age of Magic had ended, and in its place, the Age of Heroes had begun, the age – if Sunset had understood the chronology that she was piecing together out of myths and legends and fairy tales – of the Mistraliad and The Song of Olivia, the age of great deeds and mighty warriors, when warring kingdoms rose and fell with dizzying speed, and when Vale established itself as the third great realm of Remnant. It was a world not yet dominated by dust-fuelled technology – that would come later, and the rise of Mantle would come with it – but a world in which kings and warrior princes dominated the battlefield and the political landscape, ruling unchallenged, doing as they wished with those over whom they ruled. Some were good and some were bad and some were ineffectual, but there were no old men to counsel them, no prophets to challenge them, no alternate sources of power and authority whom the people might look to. Magic was gone, and none now wielded it.

Except that was not so, was it? First, there was Twilight’s account of her mysterious rescuer on the road, and then there was the account of Summer Rose, which was much more substantive, first in that it was not the fragmented memory of a child who had just taken a bump on the head, and second in that it put a name to one of these latter day prophets: Auburn, an old friend of Professor Ozpin.

The name Merida might also be relevant.

Sunset had already gone through the online yearbook of past Beacon students; there were a few too many Auburns, but only one Merida: Merida Heathermoor, who had dropped out of Beacon in her third year – a couple of years ahead of Team STRQ, which fit with Summer Rose’s impression of her age – for reasons that went unstated; Sunset was not wholly unwilling to break into the archives to find out what those reasons were, but right now, she wasn’t sure of their relevance. She was willing to hypothesise that Professor Ozpin had not held her quitting against her and had kept an eye on her nonetheless. An eye that was in some way connected to Auburn, one of the prophets.

Because magic wasn’t gone; someone just wanted everyone to think that it was, to cast it into the realm of fairy tales and legends, to dismiss it as a childish fantasy.

And the worst part was that Sunset could see why.

Let’s work this forward from the beginning. Four… let’s call them four sets of wings – although we might equally call them four horns, but let’s go with what I wanted to make myself an alicorn, not what Cadance got – to go around at any one time. The means of acquiring these wings, of ascending to power, has nothing on real ascension as far as a means of judging whether or not you deserve it, because… well, because there is no way to judge whether you deserve it. As far as I can tell, there’s no attempt at that even made. The only criteria is that you need to be a young woman when you ascend, although the powers don’t appear to fade with age.

You get your wings either by being closest to the person who had them last when they die, or you get them completely at random, or you kill the person who had them last.

And it’s once people figure that out that the system breaks down and the prophets make way for the Red Queens, who acquire their powers through murder.

Seeing this, the old man – or the wizard – decides that the only way to get things back under control is to take back the magic through murder, the same way that it fell into the hands of the unworthy.

Although the extent to which any of these people could be said to be worthy is very much up for debate.

Anyway, he assembles a company of heroes, and together they hunt down and kill the Red Queens. At which point, so the stories go, the magic disappears.

Except not. Since four of the five heroes mentioned were female, it’s a pretty good bet that they ended up with the magic after killing the Red Queens. Hurrah. Happy days are here again.

Until they die, of course, or are killed for the powers by more murderous opportunists.

Even the mightiest warrior may be felled by a single arrow, as Lady Nikos reminded me, and the fate of the prophets and the queens alike are proof that having this magic does not make you invulnerable.

So, what to do?

Apparently, the magic cannot be gotten rid of, however much you might want to; it’s… it’s like energy; it can’t be created or destroyed, there will always be four prophets, four saints, four people empowered beyond the run of common men. That being the case, how do you stop the era of bloodshed from returning the moment the power passes to someone, for want of a better word, unworthy to possess it?

You convince the people who have the power now to lay low, you rules lawyer the succession criteria to ensure that the powers pass only to those you can trust to use them wisely – which is to say, not using them at all – and you hope that everyone forgets that this was ever anything more than a fairytale.

And the system has endured to this very day.

This, by the way, also had the advantage of answering the question that Rainbow Dash had posed at the Skydock when they had discussed the matter: if there were individuals with power, with magic, then where were they? Why didn’t they show themselves and join the fight to protect humanity? Well, if Sunset’s hypothesis was correct – and it seemed to fit the facts, to her mind – the answer was: because they were under strict instruction not to use them and had been selected, in fact, for their ability to resist the temptation.

Sunset had to admit that she could see the reasoning behind this course, but at the same time, as a unicorn, she could not help but be saddened by it. She knew what it was like to have to hide your magic away, to conceal a fundamental part of yourself, to be ruled by the fear of what would happen to you if your true potential, your true self, were discovered. However irrational it had turned out to be, Sunset had lived with that fear all through Canterlot and, with it, borne the resentment of having to pretend to be so much less than she was, to be so much less than those she knew full well that she was better than. She thanked Celestia that here at Beacon, she could be open about her abilities, that in her teammates, she had found friends who would accept her gift for the wonder it was, with whom she could be honest. She couldn’t imagine having to hide for her entire life the way it seemed these prophets had to. It must have been – must be – unbearable suffering for them.

Surely, another way could have been found that didn’t involve such complete denial of self? That didn’t involve denying the world of a gift intended to make it better? Sunset had read the stories; yes, the deeds of the Red Queens were cruel and terrible, but it wasn’t as if mankind had suddenly become much kinder and more compassionate in their absence. Men were just as brutal, treacherous, warlike after as they had been at the time, and as they had been before… but the prophets, so it went, had exercised a counter to that: they had been a light of hope and gentleness in an often savage and unforgiving world, and they had done much to bring people together, to spread… harmony amongst peoples and kingdoms.

In that, they came closest to resembling alicorns in Sunset’s mind, and if they had not proved themselves worthy of the wings before they came to power, Sunset was willing to concede that many of them – those most remembered, at least – had proven by their deeds that they had not been poorly chosen.

All of that was gone now, and Sunset could not but find it a pity. Society moved forward, technology advanced, but some things – some fundamental parts of the souls of creatures and of the needs they felt – could not be changed. Equestria would be a poorer place if Celestia and Luna – and Twilight, if what Twilight said of herself was true, and, yes, okay, Cadance as well – were to disappear, still moreso if nopony else arose to take their place.

In just such a state lay the world of Remnant, devoid of anyone to show the way.

Devoid, at least, of anyone who was willing to do so.

But it had stopped magic from falling into the hands of evildoers, and Sunset supposed that might be enough for some people.

Of course, if it had been hidden completely, then Sunset would never have gotten wind of its continued existence in the here and now. Auburn, she could explain, or thought she could; by looking at the ages, she was convinced that the Auburn in question was Auburn Perry, who had had… an unhappy life, to put it mildly. She had been the only member of her team to survive to graduate from Beacon, and she died around the end of Team STRQ’s first year – or the beginning of their second – of stomach cancer. She might have known she was ill when she set out on her mission with Team STRQ. If she did, it would explain everything: Auburn had been chosen by Professor Ozpin to hold one of the four magical powers, but she found out that she was dying, so they arranged to have her meet with Merida Heathermoor, whom Professor Ozpin regarded highly, so that she would be the one to inherit the powers when Auburn passed away.

And then Merida did nothing at all of note with them, Sunset thought. After all, there had been no magical warrior leading the defence of Vale at Ozpin’s Stand, just huntsmen and huntresses and the headmaster himself.

It always comes back to Professor Ozpin, doesn't it?

Sunset's ears pricked up, literally in the case of the equine ears atop her head; she could hear footsteps in the hitherto silent library.

She twisted around in her seat and saw the lights begin to flicker on, triggered by the motion sensors as the owner of the heavy footsteps made their way through the stacks in her direction.

Sunset pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet – the lights directly above her, which had turned off during her period of nearly stationary thought, stirred to life once again – wondering who else was feeling the need to use the library at this hour and why they felt the need to disturb her.

It turned out to be Cardin Winchester, dressed in an old T-shirt and a pair of well-worn blue jeans that looked as though they were about to be worn through at the knees. Sunset, who had never seen him dressed in anything quite like that before, could only raise a single curious eyebrow.

He didn't get too close to her, keeping about six feet of distance – maybe a little more – between the two of them. He looked uncertain, and yet, at the same time, he managed to spit out, "Great, I found you."

Sunset's other eyebrow rose to join the first. That could mean a great many things, and yet, Sunset was not too concerned; it was only Cardin after all, and she had never found him intimidating. "What do you want, Cardin? Have you come to tell me that you're a disgusting racist, because I figured that out already." She smirked. "You might not know this, but I think most people have figured it out by now."

Cardin grimaced. "You're having so much fun with this, aren't you?"

"Am I enjoying your humiliation? Yes," Sunset replied. "You've had this coming for a long time, quite frankly, and I don't see why I should pretend otherwise."

Cardin was silent for a moment. "It was you, wasn't it? You were hiding somewhere, and you made that recording, and you sent it to that zine."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sunset lied. She wasn't about to admit what she'd done, however low the chances that anyone would judge her for it. "And, quite frankly, I think that the question of who took that recording and who distributed it is a little beside the point. You said those things, you and Bon Bon, and now, you have to live the consequences of that. Forgive me if I'm not overflowing with sympathy."

Cardin stared at her. "How is it that you have so many people thinking that you're such a good person?" he asked.

"I am a good person, to them," Sunset declared. "Good to my friends and fierce to my enemies."

"And what about the people in between?"

"What about them?" Sunset replied. "What do you want, Cardin? I'm a little busy, and I don't want to spend my night bandying words with you."

Cardin was silent. He looked down at his feet. As he stood, quiet and averting his gaze, something seemed to snap inside of him; his shoulders buckled as though beneath a great weight, and he slumped forwards a little. "I give up," he said.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "You give up?"

"Yes!" Cardin snapped. "Skystar broke up with me, my father and grandfather's careers are at risk, people are starting to shun my mother, Silverstream and Terramar think I want to murder them, everyone thinks that I'm a monster… I surrender. You win. However you want to say it, I'll even get down on my knees if you want, but… just let me be. I won't do anything to you or Blake or Jaune or anyone else. You've beaten me, just… just please be magnanimous in that."

Sunset stared at him. He might not have physically dropped to his knees yet, but he had already done so metaphorically. He was, indeed, defeated; helpless and humbled before her as much as the sovereigns of Mantle and Mistral had been when they had descended into the dirt and laid their crowns at the feet of the Last King. A part of her, a very substantial part, felt jubilant at that. A part of her wanted to jump up and down in triumphant joy, punching the air. A part of her exulted in the fact that she had won! She had won!

Another part of her felt incredibly guilty. Another part of her focussed upon the first words that he had said. "Skystar broke up with you?"

"She loves her cousins like they were her own brother and sister," Cardin said. "Did you expect that she wouldn't break up with me? Isn't that part of the reason you did this?"

It had, in fact. Every word that he had said in that regard was true. She had hoped to break up his happy relationship, to show Skystar what kind of a man her beloved Cardy really was. But, now that it had happened… she was filled with a deep sorrow.

"Please, Flash, wait! Please don't leave me. I know that things haven't been perfect, but I can change, I swear! If you tell me what's wrong, then I can fix it! You… you're all I have."

"That's your problem, Sunset, not mine."

And he had turned away, leaving her outside in the rain, soaked through with no place to go and no one to turn to. It took a lot of self control not to shudder at the memory and to suppress the spike of anger that ran through her at what Flash had done.

She had brought that same grim fate on Cardin, and now… now, she regretted it. She regretted it so much that, for a moment, she came very close, within a whisker, of apologising to him, of telling him how sorry she was and promising to make it up to him.

But she didn't. She didn't quite have the weakness, or the strength. All she said was, "I didn't ruin your life, Cardin; you did this to yourself."

Cardin scowled, but nodded. "Yeah, I did," he admitted. "And I know that I don't have much left to lose at this point, but… please, I won't give you any trouble, and I… I don't want any more trouble either."

Sunset's expression was impassive. She had won, and yet, he wasn't making it very easy for her to enjoy her victory. The longer this went on, the more her glee was replaced with squirming guilt and a pervasive feeling of embarrassment. "I… haven't done anything to you," Sunset lied, "but… if I had done, it would stop, if your actions cease. I bear you no malice, Cardin, except that you went after my friends."

"I already admitted that I brought this on myself; isn't that enough?" Cardin snapped. He took a deep breath. "Did you mean what you said in the Forever Fall that day?"

Sunset blinked. "You mean-"

"You said that we could change," Cardin reminded her. "That we could become better than we were. Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it," Sunset murmured. "I still believe it." She didn't like seeing herself reflected in Cardin Winchester at the best of times, still less right now, when he had hit rock bottom and lost everything: his love, the respect of those around him, any good opinions that anyone might have had of him. It cut too close to home, reminded her too much of what it had been like for her at Canterlot, when even Flash had abandoned her to face the derision of the mob. But she had risen and enjoyed a sea-change in her fortunes and a lesser change in her attitudes. Perhaps Cardin could do – and enjoy – the same.

"Good," Cardin whispered. "I hope you're right." He paused for a second or two. "How… how do you make them like you so much? We're both jackasses, but you… what makes you better than me?"

Sunset wondered if perhaps he'd like the list alphabetically, but didn't say so because she knew what he meant, and honestly, she didn't have a good answer. What had she done to deserve the love of such excellent and virtuous people as Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, or even Blake? It wasn't as though she could blithely say that somewhere in her youth or childhood she must have done something good, because she'd lived through her youth and childhood, and there was nothing approaching goodness in it.

The question was not what made her better than Cardin but, rather, what made her more worthy to be loved than Cardin.

To which there was, really, no good answer at all. "I got lucky," Sunset said, because that was really all there was to it. She had gotten lucky that the three kindest people in the year had embraced her as their own, for all her faults.

"Lucky, right," Cardin muttered. He scratched the back of his head with one hand. "Well, I… I mean, I'll… uh, that is-"

"Off you go, Cardin," Sunset dismissed him, offering him a way out of a conversation that no longer had any road left in it.

Cardin looked for a moment as though he wanted to, or felt he ought to, say more, but in the end he did not; he simply turned away and walked away, his steps a little shuffling.

And with luck, I won't need to have anything more to do with him, Sunset thought.

She stood a moment, torn between her desire to jump up in the air in triumph and her feeling that she had done something wrong.

He deserved it.

But that doesn't mean that I should have done it.

I've beaten him at last; all my friends are safe.

Let's not pretend that any of this was necessary. Are you going to write to Princess Twilight about this? Or Princess Celestia?

…No.

Well, that says a great deal, doesn't it?

Shut up, I won. Get over it.

If only I could.

Sunset frowned and turned away, sitting down back at her desk. She didn't want to think about this any more. Now, where was she?

Ah, yes, Professor Ozpin.

That Professor Ozpin was deeply involved in this business was something that Sunset accepted without question. She did not for a moment consider the possibility that he might be a pawn of Auburn herself, facilitating without understanding. Frankly, whatever one thought of him, the headmaster had shown himself to be too canny for that, and that he should have intimate knowledge that he was keeping to himself made perfect sense when one considered that he was keeping what he knew of Silver Eyes confidential in the exact same way.

No, he knew the truth about these prophets, and he was keeping it from the general public; the question was why. Or rather, the question was whether there was malice in it.

Sunset was inclined to say that there was, but as she sat here in the library, as the light flickered off against because she was once more still and unmoving, Sunset had to wonder if that was true.

She could not deny that there were reasons to hide the existence of this magic from the rest of Remnant: look at what had happened when its existence had been widely known. It could be argued to be mere pragmatism, a decision made for the greater good; Professor Ozpin, like a father, knowing what was best for others better than they knew themselves.

Sunset had no ideological objection to such paternalist thinking; Equestria was built upon just such a maternalist attitude, after all: Princess Celestia sat on high, keeping her secrets, nudging Equestria and all the little ponies who dwelt in it towards their destinies in the name of harmony.

Sunset hadn't much liked that attitude when it applied to her, but time and distance had brought her to a point where she could admit that Princess Celestia meant no ill by it and only sought to do what was best by her subjects and by those she cared for.

Could she apply the same generosity to Professor Ozpin?

She found that harder to do, and not just because these lies and secrets affected her directly once again. Professor Ozpin had inherited knowledge of great light, and regardless of the intentions of those who had passed that knowledge down to him, it had been within this gift to open up the shutters and let the light shine out upon the world, as it had done in days of old. But he had not. He had continued with the old, long-standing policy, which was – to Sunset's mind – like asking Princess Twilight to bind up her wings and go about cloaked so that none might know that she was more than just a unicorn. Why? It was true that there were greater dangers here in Remnant – no one could ascend to become an alicorn themselves by killing another alicorn, and even if anypony could do so, such wicked crimes were just not committed amongst ponies – but there were other solutions to that: set true and valiant guards around them, range armies in their protection, lodge them in the hearts of mighty fortresses if you must, but do not hide them. None of the legends that Sunset had yet come across were clear on where, precisely, the magic had come from, but it had come from somewhere to be used for good. Sunset believed that too. She had to believe that. That was just how it worked: such gifts as were bestowed upon the one were gifted for the good of many; that was just the way of things. So it was in Equestria, at least – and Sunset's original sin had been to forget that – and she knew of no reason why it should not also be the case in Remnant. There were four gifts in the world that might have done much to bless the world, save that men had caused them to be hidden, and Professor Ozpin was the latest in a line of those who aided in that concealment.

That was malicious, in Sunset's view, especially when you took into consideration how much else he was hiding, like Silver Eyes and who knew what else.

And by what right?

Sunset's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of more footsteps approaching; it was not Cardin coming back; these footsteps were lighter, and faster too, a swift beat on the library floor like the rattle of a snare drum.

It turned out – as Sunset saw as she, once again, twisted around in her chair – to be Weiss Schnee. She was dressed in her silver-white huntress outfit, with a hint of red showing on the interior of her bolero as she advanced rapidly towards Sunset, taking a seat at the table next to her.

"Please," Sunset said, likewise returning to her seat, "have a seat."

Weiss did not respond to that remark; she simply said, "Ruby told me that I'd find you here."

"Ruby was correct," Sunset said softly, waiting for Weiss to get to the point. It was not that she objected to the company of the Schnee heiress in general – although they hadn't really spent much time together since… it must have been that trip into Vale when Blake got found out, unless you counted the battle at the docks. Anyway, the point was not that she didn't like Weiss – she could take her or leave her alone – but that she didn't really want to be disturbed. She had a lot of thinking to do.

Weiss clasped her hands together upon her lap. "Not many people use the library this late," she said. "Although I can't say that I blame you for wanting somewhere quiet to study, especially with what's going on in your dorm room."

I knew they weren't going to study. "What's going on in my dorm room?"

"Ruby, Penny, and Rainbow Dash are playing videogames with some girl over the CCT," Weiss explained. "I could hear her voice on the other end of their scrolls. I didn't recognise the game, but it seemed to involve ships shooting at one another."

"Hmm, that might be Juturna," Sunset murmured. "Juturna Rutulus, that is, some Mistralian socialite; she and Ruby hit it off over the vacation."

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "Ruby Rose hit it off with a socialite?"

"She's not entirely what the term suggests, but yes, it is a little surprising," Sunset conceded. "But it happened."

"I see," Weiss said quietly. Her snowy brow furrowed. "Rutulus… I could swear that I've heard that name before, but I can't quite recall… never mind; I'm sure that it's not important. Anyway, as I was saying, I understand that you might want some peace and quiet in here. Flash and I have been here this late studying some times."

I'll bet you have. "Studying," Sunset said through gritted teeth. "Sure."

Weiss' blue eyes narrowed. "Despite what you may think, there's nothing going on between us, not that it would be any of your business if there were."

Sunset ignored that last bit. "What, is he not good enough for you?"

"I'm sorry, do you want me to date your ex?"

"No!" Sunset cried. "But I won't have you saying he isn't eminently… dateable. It… would be… a slur on my excellent taste."

"Hmm," Weiss mused sceptically. "As a matter of fact… I don't disagree with you on that. Flash is, as you put it, eminently dateable. He is the kind of boyfriend that I would look for, if I were looking for a boyfriend." A soft smile played upon her features for a moment, and Sunset was forcibly reminded that Weiss Schnee was really quite astonishingly pretty. Lovely might be a better word for it. Small wonder Jaune had been besotted with her when the year began.

That all seemed so long ago now.

The lights went off, dimming due to a lack of motion beneath, but that hardly mattered because Weiss Schnee was light, a shimmering figure like the moon in human form descended amongst the mortals.

"However," she went on, "for the time being, I have no interest in such things. I'm here to become the best huntress I can, not to find a boyfriend."

"I see," Sunset said quietly, unsure if she believed Weiss or not.

Weiss drew in a breath. "Cardin was looking for you," she said.

"Cardin found me," Sunset replied. "But I can't believe that you were looking for me just to tell me that someone else was looking for me, especially not Cardin."

"Cardin and I are… starting over," Weiss informed her. "I'm going to be a better leader, and he is going to be a better teammate."

"That's… nice for you both," Sunset said. "I'm not sure what it has to do with me."

Weiss was silent a little while. "He thinks that you are the one who released that damaging audio."

"I do not admit that," Sunset said, leaning back in her chair a little. "But, as I told Cardin himself, if he hadn't said those things, then nobody could have released audio of him saying them."

"I'm not here to make excuses on Cardin's behalf," Weiss declared. "Whatever his motives, his words were absolutely reprehensible." She paused. "I'm not a bigot because my name is Schnee, and I resent that assumption and the assumption that I must agree with Cardin's professed sentiments because I am his team leader."

"That… is unfortunate," Sunset said. It had not been her intent to damage Weiss along with Cardin, although with hindsight, she could see how people might make assumptions.

"There's Flash, too," Weiss reminded her. "After what happened to his father and the way that it was seized upon by… some of the worst elements in Atlas… you can see how it looks."

Sunset winced. It certainly hadn't been her intent to get Flash involved in this. "That is… even more unfortunate," she said. "But I'm not sure what you expected me to do about it."

"That's not why I'm here," Weiss said briskly. "I have… spoken to my father. He assures me that SDC public relations will be taking care of such things."

"How fortunate for you," Sunset murmured. "I still don't see what this has to do with me."

Weiss stared at her. "I don't know exactly what Cardin wanted to speak to you about," she said, "but don't you think this feud between the two of you has gone on long enough?"

Sunset couldn't restrain a snort. "A feud, is that what you think this is?"

"Isn't it?"

"Can the jackal feud with the lion?" Sunset asked.

"You aren't a lion," Weiss reminded her. "Any more than Cardin is a jackal. You're both people, with exceedingly big egos. Although Cardin's seems to have deflated at the moment."

"I can't imagine why," Sunset muttered.

"Don't you think the time has come when you might deign to be magnanimous?" Weiss asked. "Cardin has been unpleasant, but in return you-"

"You really ought to have some proof before you accuse me of anything."

"In return, you have destroyed his life," Weiss continued. "It's gone far enough, don't you think?"

Sunset nodded. "As a matter of fact, I do," she agreed. "And I believe that Cardin feels the same way. But… none of this would have happened if he had left well enough alone."

"I'm aware of Cardin's faults, just as I think he is aware of them now and wishes to move beyond them," Weiss said. "But this is getting out of hand, and I want it done. I want what's best for my team-"

"So do I."

"And I think that we can get that without being at each other's throats. Don't we have enough enemies outside the school?"

"Probably," Sunset conceded. "As a matter of fact, Cardin already asked… for a ceasefire." She decided to spare his blushes in front of his team leader. "I believe that he has had enough of what you call our feud."

"And you?"

"As you say, I only ever wanted what was best for my team."

"I'm glad," Weiss said. "Then we are in agreement?"

Sunset nodded. "I never wanted to be your enemy," she said.

"Nor I," Weiss agreed. "I hope that circumstances do not force us into opposition." She paused, and for a moment, she seemed about to say something, but then thought better of it. "I'm glad we understand each other," she said, rising to her feet and, in the process, turning on the lights once more.

Sunset looked up at her. "I almost think we always did," she said.

Weiss considered that. "Perhaps," she allowed, before beginning to walk away. After but three steps, she stopped and looked back at Sunset. "May I ask you one more thing?"

"Why not?"

"How is it that you have taken to leadership so easily?" Weiss asked.

Sunset thought about it for a moment. What did make her a good leader? Was she a good leader? They had had a successful mission, that was something, but at the same time, there had been very little actual leadership involved. And yet, despite that, Sunset couldn't accept the idea that she was a bad leader; her team worked well together, fought well together; surely, she was entitled to a little credit for that? But to what did she owe it? Natural born talent? Her time studying at the feet of Princess Celestia? Or something… more prosaic?

"I got lucky," she said, just as she had told Cardin not too long before.

Weiss stared at her. "Yes," she agreed. "I suppose you did." She turned around and walked away. This time, she did not stop.

Sunset turned back to the table as soon as she was out of sight. What was I thinking of?

Ah, yes, Professor Ozpin. Always Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin and his secrets.

By what right did he hoard knowledge like a dragon hoarding gold? By what right did he sit in his high tower, knowing so much and telling so little? Sunset had, with time and a great deal of distance, accommodated herself to the fact that Celestia had kept secrets from Sunset – and even more secrets from Twilight – for their own good and the good of Equestria. But Princess Celestia was an immortal alicorn, one who had ruled the realm wisely and well for more than a thousand years. She had seen the tides of history ebb and flow, she had seen society grow and bloom like a garden all around her, she had seen the ways in which ponies changed and the ways in which they did not. She understood, through long experience, the hearts of ponies of all kinds. What could Professor Ozpin boast of, to set against such wisdom and experience? In his whole life, he had made but a single move, and that the journey from his house to Beacon Academy, where he had remained for practically the rest of his adult life. If he knew anything about the world beyond the cloistered halls of Beacon, it would be a miracle. And yet, this man, a mere mortal and a mortal at that with no qualifications to be in such a lofty position, was the arbiter of all the world’s mysteries, the man with all the answers which he refused to supply.

By what right? It was intolerable… and intolerably sinister, what was more. It was impossible for Sunset to see anything good or noble in the actions of Professor Ozpin and his predecessors. The others thought that she was paranoid because she didn’t trust his silence over Silver Eyes; well, perhaps it could be argued that he kept silent because Ruby did. Maybe if she went up to the top of the tower and asked him the questions, then he would supply all the answers. Maybe, but Sunset doubted it. Because Silver Eyes were not the only secrets he was keeping; he was hiding much more than that, and much more important than that. Silver Eyes were a potent weapon, but magic… he was hiding hope as well, and that was harder to excuse, at least to Sunset’s mind. How could people better themselves without symbols to inspire them? Where were they supposed to look for exemplars of…

Sunset stopped. Her eyes widened. No. No, she didn’t want to believe that but… but now that the thought had occurred to her, she couldn’t dismiss it. It was all too, much too plausible.

A system in which magic was bestowed upon the worthy, not by ethereal, numinous recognition of their worth but by appreciation of it by Professor Ozpin, who gamed the system so that his choices ascended in accordance with his will; it stood to reason, therefore, that you could predict his choices by looking at those in whom he took a special interest: like Team STRQ, like Merida, like Auburn.

And Raven said that it would start with missions.

He’s going to grant these powers to Ruby, isn’t he?

And Sunset didn’t know how to feel about that. Well, no, that was not quite true; she felt a degree of jealousy at the idea that Ruby would be selected to ascend, but if she made the effort to look past her selfishness and think about it from the perspective of someone who wasn’t obsessed with her own aggrandisement, she could admit that Ruby would be a very good choice. A near-perfect choice, in fact, to encourage and inspire people.

But she wouldn’t get the chance, would she? Professor Ozpin would make her his prophet, and then he would lock her away or shove her into the shadows or whatever it was he did to keep them and their powers hidden, and Ruby… Ruby would be broken by it. Not immediately, but unable to help people, unable to pursue her dream of becoming a huntress, unable to be risked for fear that her powers would escape the grasp of Professor Ozpin, she would wither away like a rose starved of sunlight, her petals wilting until there was nothing left of them.

She couldn’t let that happen.

But how could she stop it?

“You.”

Sunset sighed and put her head in her hands for a moment. It’s like Canterlot Central Station in here.

She ran her hands through her hair and looked up into the face of Phoebe Kommenos, dressed in the uniform of an Atlas student, looming over her and looking down. Her look was cold, and her eyes were as sharp as talons.

Sunset pushed her chair back a few inches. I didn’t even hear her coming. It was... worrying, to say the least, that she could be snuck up on by someone like this. She did not like this girl. She wasn’t scared of her, but… there was something about her that Sunset didn’t like. Maybe it was just the fact that she had been able to so completely intimidate Cinder, but… Sunset didn’t like the fact that Phoebe had been able to get the drop on her.

I would rather Cardin be able to sneak up on me than her.

Hopefully, it was just the fact that I was lost in thought and not that she’s actually that stealthy.

Sunset hoped that she succeeded in keeping her surprise hidden behind a mask of calm. “Can I help you?” she asked softly.

An ugly smile crossed Phoebe’s face as she sat down upon the edge of Sunset’s desk. “You, help me?” She let out that grating, high-pitched laugh she had. “What an absurd idea. As if I need any help from a faunus, or from Pyrrha’s team leader!” She laughed again. “I give you fair warning that I intend to make sure that our paths cross in the Vytal Festival, and when they do, then I will trample Pyrrha Nikos beneath my feet and triumph over her. You may depend upon it.”

“It would be the first time, if so,” Sunset murmured.

Phoebe’s face flushed with anger. “Insolent-” She cut herself off and took a deep breath, visibly seeking to calm herself. “It’s true that Pyrrha has been very fortunate in all our previous encounters. But then, she’s a very lucky girl, isn’t she?”

“Pyrrha is very skilled.”

“Does her ghastly mother tell you to say that as a condition of her financial support?” Phoebe asked. She chuckled. “Yes, I know all about your little arrangement with the House of Nikos. Everyone knows that Lady Nikos has taken an interest in a little stray horse. I understand it makes for quite the amusing little anecdote at parties: the poor faunus, so desperate for acceptance that she mistakes a business transaction for acceptance.”

I’m a pony, not a horse. Sunset pushed her chair back a little more and got to her feet. “Forgive me, my lady,” she said, reaching for her courtly manners in order to show this woman that she was not an inferior just because she had ears and a tail, “but I am greatly preoccupied at present and have little time for the bandying of superfluous verbiage with you. If you will excuse me.”

Phoebe gave no sign of moving. “From what I understand, you are an ambitious sort. From what is said of you-”

“And what has my lady heard said of me, and from whom?” Sunset asked. “I did not see you in Mistral when I was there.”

“No,” Phoebe acknowledged. “I didn’t go home for the vacation. I prefer Atlas in the springtime: that crisp northern air. But I have friends amongst the other good families of our fairy city of Mistral: the Rutulus family, for one. From them, I heard that you had been… sponsored. What’s it like being the teammate of the great Pyrrha Nikos?”

“It is a privilege to be the team leader of the illustrious Pyrrha Nikos, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn,” Sunset declared. “She is well worthy of her reputation; in fact, she surpasses it.”

“More flattery,” Phoebe muttered. “One might almost think you were worried someone might hear you.”

“I am not beyond flattery, my lady, but when it comes to our princess of the battlefield, my tongue speaks only truth, albeit truth spoken in a fair and gentle fashion, fitting for a fair and gentle subject of my speech,” Sunset said. “Have you yourself not had opportunity often enough to taste of her skill upon the battlefield?”

Phoebe’s eyes were unblinking. Her gaze moved nowhere away from Sunset’s face. “I’m told that you are an ambitious girl, and yet I find before me a simpering toady. Is that what it does to you, to be too close to the Invincible Girl? Does it fill you with resentment, the way that she bestrides the world of our professions like a colossus, blotting out the sun to cast us all in shadow? Doesn’t it irk you that all the glories of this world, all the deeds your team has accomplished in the field, accrue to her, and you are forgotten?”

As a matter of fact, it did, at least as far as the bit about accomplishments went; Sunset would have had to be a far humbler person than she was not to be a little annoyed at the way that she – and the rest of the team, but herself especially – were pushed to one side so that Pyrrha could hog the limelight. Yes, she understood that Pyrrha didn’t mean to have that effect; it was an unfortunate side effect of being on the team with the Princess Without a Crown, and the many positives of being Pyrrha’s team leader, of being her friend, more than made up for it.

And yet, it still made her feel a twitch of irritation every now and then.

Not that she was going to admit that to the little stirrer sitting in front of her. “As I said, my lady, I have little time for idle chit-chat.”

“Then I suppose I’d better get to the point then, hadn’t I?” Phoebe replied. “There’s nothing that you can do for me, but I do want something from you: your sword, Soteria.”

Sunset blinked. “My lady jests.”

“Not on this occasion,” Phoebe said. “Do you know what that sword is?”

“I am aware of its heritage, my lady,” Sunset replied. “One might find it strange that Lady Nikos chose to bestow so venerable and esteemed a weapon upon a business transaction.”

Phoebe’s face was expressionless for a moment. “Well,” she said, her voice sounding a little less sure of herself now. “I may have underestimated your… in any case, she had no right to place that weapon in your hands.”

“Is it not Lady Nikos’ own property, to do with as she will?”

“That sword belonged to Achates Kommenos, bodyguard to the Emperor,” Phoebe declared. “It is true that he was sworn into the Emperor’s service, and it is true that that blade was bestowed upon him by the Emperor himself, and for those reasons, the House of Nikos kept the blade as a treasure of their own house when the war was done. But I am Achates’ descendant through his brother, Ilioneus; that blade is mine by rights. And yet, such is my generosity that I am prepared to buy it from you. Name your price.”

Sunset laughed. “Would my lady have me put a price upon my honour? Upon my reputation? This sword was gifted to me, by the Lady of the House of Victory, that I might wield it in battle beside the heiress to that ancient name. What kind of ingrate would I be to sell this mark of Lady Nikos’ esteem for mere lien? Think not, my lady, that simply because I am a faunus, or that because I am not Mistral-born, that I am some base creature, slave to ignoble sentiments; indeed, I will show you that a faunus from beyond the kingdoms may have as much gentleness about them as any noble in Mistral. Soteria is not for sale.”

Phoebe growled. “Soteria is-”

“If it were truly yours, it would be in your hand,” Sunset observed.

Phoebe leapt off the table on which she had been sitting. “Perhaps the Nikos family had the right to keep this blade for themselves,” she said, “but they certainly had no right to bestow it at will, and certainly not to a beast like you. That sword is mine, and I will have it.”

“I doubt that, my lady,” Sunset declared, for what could she do? Steal it? Perhaps, but Sunset would know exactly where it had gone, and she would have to leave Vale in order to escape; Sunset wasn’t sure exactly what being known as a thief – and a thief from the Nikos family at that – would do for her reputation back home in Mistral, but she trusted it would be nothing good. She could not get the blade unless Sunset relinquished it, and that she would not do.

Phoebe’s lips curled into a sneer. “We shall see,” she said, and thankfully, at this point, she decided to go, leaving Sunset alone once more. Except not completely, because she stopped and glanced back at Sunset over her shoulder. “You speak gently, it’s true, but you are not of the Nikos family. You are a hireling, nothing more, and little better than a slave. Think on that and upon the fate of my illustrious ancestor.” She snorted and disappeared into the darkness; the lights did not turn on for her, as though they could not sense her passing.

Sunset stared at her, brow furrowed. Lies. Lies and petty, empty words designed to wound her, the last shriek in retreat of someone who had failed to get their way.

And yet how many other Mistralians saw it so? They knew her not, they did not understand the terms of her arrangement with Lady Nikos… and yet, they judged her nonetheless.

It stuck in her craw.

Sunset shook her head. There were more important things to think of right now, by far: Professor Ozpin and his secrets and what plans he might have for Ruby.

Let’s be fair here; I don’t know for sure that he has any plans for Ruby.

He gave us a mission, sure, but he also gave a mission to Team YRDN, as was. Perhaps he means to ascend Yang or Nora.

That would be a mistake; Ruby’s worth ten of either of them… in every way other than fighting men, I suppose. Anyway, it would still be a mistake.

But that doesn’t mean that he won’t or isn’t making it.

If that was his plan, then Sunset was not so concerned; Ruby would probably find that a terrible thing to say, writing off her sister like that, but Yang… Yang didn’t seem driven to help others in the same way Ruby was; she might not find cloistered anonymity so wearing upon her spirit. The same could be said of Nora, with an added dash of Sunset not really caring a whit one way or another about Nora Valkyrie. She was genial company at lunch and dinner, to be sure, but Sunset felt no especial connection with her and no desire to protect her from the malice of their headmaster.

And yet, the fact that Professor Ozpin might be seriously considering her for ascension only served to reinforce Sunset’s view that this whole system was fundamentally broken. How could Nora deserve to ascend, or Yang for that matter? What had they done to prove themselves worthy of it?

I didn’t ask myself any of these questions before I demanded my ascension.

Shut up, me.

Sunset sighed and once more ran one hand through her hair. This was getting nowhere; she needed to get it out of her head, she needed… she needed to talk to Twilight about this, see what the magic obsessive thought about it all.

She needed to get some sleep.

Sunset gathered up her things and left the library, crossing the courtyard towards the dorms. She stopped for a moment, looking up at the tall tower that loomed above the rest of the school and the emerald lights that glimmered in the darkness.

What are you planning, old man?

What fate do you have in store for us?

Secrets and Lies (New)

Secrets and Lies

Sunset tied the red ribbon tied around her neck, putting the finishing touch onto her uniform. “Oh, just so you guys know, I’m not coming to breakfast with the three of you.”

Ruby frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m taking Twilight to breakfast at Benni Havens’,” Sunset replied.

Silence fell upon the other three members of the team. “By yourself?” Jaune asked.

Sunset blinked. “Yeah, why?”

“You’re buying breakfast, and you didn’t invite us?” Ruby demanded.

Sunset smirked. “You haven’t done anything to earn it lately,” she said. “Why, is there a problem?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “There’s no problem, it’s just… a little unusual. Is there a special occasion?”

“No, I just need to talk to Twilight about a couple of things.”

“Magical things?” Ruby asked.

“Things that will be of interest to Twilight, but not the three of you,” Sunset replied. “Anyway, that’s that, so have fun, and I’ll see you guys… later. Before class, hopefully.” She paused. “Hey, Pyrrha.”

“Yes?” Pyrrha asked.

“Soteria,” Sunset said. “The sword that your mother gave me, its previous owner was Achates, yes?”

Pyrrha nodded. “That’s correct.”

“His surname wouldn’t have happened to be Kommenos, would it?”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “Has Phoebe said something?”

“She came to see me last night in the library, blustering about her right to the sword,” Sunset explained. “I think she was fairly upset that it was your family’s to give in the first place, and even more upset that it was given to me, a faunus.” She paused. “Is there any truth to it? Was it an ancestor of hers who wielded the sword for the Emperor?”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “It… is complicated.”

“'Complicated' as in 'tangled' or 'complicated' as in 'awkward to talk about'?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. “I… fear the latter. It is… not the finest hour of Mistral or my family.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You mean she really is entitled to the sword?”

“That depends upon your point of view,” Pyrrha declared, looking up at Sunset. “Ilioneus Kommenos, Phoebe’s ancestor, was a-” She cut herself off and looked guiltily at Jaune and Ruby. “While Achates was a trusted and honoured retainer of the Emperor, Ilioneus Kommenos fought for Vale during the Great War.”

“There were Mistralians who fought for Vale during the Great War?” Ruby asked.

“And Mantleites, too,” Sunset informed her. “They disagreed with their kingdom’s policies on the suppression of culture and fled into exile in Vale. Vale’s harbouring of such exiles was one of the causes of tension leading up to the Great War.”

“Ooh, look at me,” Ruby said. “I’m Sunset; I can recite from out of a textbook at the drop of a hat.”

Sunset snorted. “Sorry.”

“But Mistral wasn’t suppressing culture, right?” Jaune said. “I mean, they only pretended to, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “But Mistral in the old days… we of Mistral choose to remember the glory of our history: proud lords and just, warriors noble and brave, a grand old kingdom, proud of the heritage in which it is steeped. And all of that is true and may be true again… but there is another side to Mistral, one in which it is ill indeed to be caught on the wrong side of the shifting currents of power and influence. Ilioneus Kommenos fled to Vale to escape the waning of his fortunes in Mistral and was rewarded with a place of honour in the Last King’s court. When the war was over, the King’s favour was enough to see Ilioneus restored to his lands in Mistral… but he was regarded as a traitor by many, including my ancestors. It was not thought proper that the sword of a hero should be placed in a traitor’s hands. Achates, after all, had fought for the Emperor and given his life in the cause against which his brother had fought. My ancestors felt it would be improper to give his weapon over to one who had fought against that cause and our kingdom.”

“I see,” Sunset muttered. “I… I can see why your forebears took that view. It wasn’t a family sword, was it?”

“No, it was given to Achates out of the Imperial armoury by the Emperor,” Pyrrha said. “That was the legal basis of our claim.”

“Was it ever tested?” Sunset asked.

“No, none of the Kommenos family even raised the issue until Phoebe’s mother,” Pyrrha explained. “The Kommenos family is… somewhat reduced in status, and my mother always believed that Lady Kommenos wished for the sword to raise the family’s prestige. Certainly, it would have been a great fillip for Phoebe to bear it in the arena. Can you imagine it: a would-be Champion of Mistral, bearing the sword which her ancestor had used to champion Mistral on the battlefield? It would have been quite the stirring spectacle.”

“Until she lost,” Sunset said.

“She might not have,” Pyrrha replied. “The sword might have inspired her.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Pyrrha, I am willing to go along with a certain degree of romanticism – I am a romantic myself, after all – but let’s not go crazy here. It’s a sword. A venerable blade, and one which I am honoured to bear as a sign of your family’s trust in me, but it’s still just a sword. I couldn’t beat you with it, and I’m pretty sure that preening wannabe couldn’t either.”

“Sunset’s got a point,” Jaune said. “I mean, if we were all as good as our weapons, then I’d be a better huntsman than you, and… well, you know.”

“Perhaps I am exaggerating a little,” Pyrrha admitted. “In any case, my mother was not above wagering Soteria upon the outcome of matches between Phoebe and myself.”

“I think your mother was less ‘willing to give the sword away’ and more having some fun at the expense of Phoebe and her mother,” Sunset suggested. “But at least she had faith in you.”

“I suppose, in the arena at least,” Pyrrha murmured. “In any case, you know the truth now, so… I suppose it’s up to you whether you feel as though Phoebe deserves the sword.”

“Of course I don’t think Phoebe Kommenos deserves the sword!” Sunset exclaimed. “It’s mine! Given unto me as a mark of my distinction.” Made all the more precious because she had been given very few marks of distinction in her life. “I know… I know that it doesn’t exactly make you feel great to see your mother favour me so, but I have been given very few marks of favour in my career, and so… to be recognised for my quality… it means a lot to me.”

Since combat school, she had always shunted aside in favour of others, and frequently others who were – in Sunset’s wholly objective opinion – less than her. She had been overshadowed and outshone, first by the Ace of Canterlot and then by the Invincible Girl. Her magic made up for her deficiencies in other respects, and yet, it seemed she lacked a certain glamour about her that drew men to her and won their hearts. They did not see her worth, nor recognise the talent she possessed. But with Lady Nikos, it was different; here was a lady of high birth and noble blood, wealthy and well-respected, blessed with such a daughter as might never again be seen in Mistral. And yet, Pyrrha’s light had not prevented Lady Nikos from perceiving Sunset in a way few others did and honouring her with symbols of her respect. If Sunset gave Soteria away, she would throw away that symbol of respect as though it meant little to her, instead of meaning so, so much. As much to the point, she would insult Lady Nikos by doing so, and that, she was not willing to do.

“I will not give it up just because its previous owner has living relatives. I will not give it up out of obligation and certainly not for lien.”

“My mother will be pleased to hear it,” Pyrrha said.

“You could always tell her so,” Sunset suggested.

Pyrrha sighed. “Sunset-”

“Okay, I’m sorry, forget I said that,” Sunset said quickly, holding up one hand.

“I’m afraid… that may not be the last time you hear of this,” Pyrrha warned. “Phoebe can be… persistent, if nothing else, and Arslan tells me that there are some amongst the Haven students who are not happy that Soteria was bestowed on you.”

“Phoebe told me that people think I’m your family’s hireling,” Sunset remarked.

“Is that bad?” Ruby asked.

“Only for my self-respect,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha cringed a little. “I’m sure that mother would never have phrased your arrangement in that way.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “But it doesn’t surprise me that people think that way. I suppose I’m not the sort of person who ought to attract the favour of the House of Nikos, am I?”

Pyrrha didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. Her cheeks reddened a little, and she glanced away from Sunset.

“Sorry,” Sunset repeated. “I didn’t mean to… I just… anyway, thanks for explaining to me; it doesn’t change my mind, but at least I understand. So… I should probably go; I’ll see you guys later.” She turned away from her teammates and took the first step towards the door.

“Sunset, wait a second!” Jaune called out and by his voice arrested Sunset’s progress. “I was actually hoping we could talk… alone.”

Sunset blinked. “'Alone'?”

“'Alone'?” Ruby repeated. “What’s going on, Jaune?”

“Nothing,” Jaune said hastily, and not particularly convincingly in Sunset’s opinion, what with the way that his voice rose up an octave. “I just need a quick word. I’ll catch up with you guys at the cafeteria.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine to leave the two of them in peace,” Pyrrha said, her voice sounding calmer once more, and more composed as she sidled past Sunset and reached the door. “I’ll save you a seat, Jaune, but don’t be too long.”

Jaune chuckled. “I won’t.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Are you coming, Ruby?”

“Uh, sure,” Ruby said, leaping over her bed. “Later, Sunset!”

“Later, Ruby, Pyrrha,” Sunset said as they both took their leave and the door closed behind them. Sunset walked back her steps towards her own bed and leaned against the wall with one outstretched arm. She focussed her attention upon the awkward-looking Jaune. “So,” she said. “What’s going on, Jaune?”

Jaune dry-washed his hands. “Well… you see… there’s something that I need to ask you, and… well, I don’t really know… ugh, how do I say this? Did you leak that audio about Cardin and Bon Bon? Were you Anon-a-Miss?”

Sunset stared at him for a moment. He asked her that? He had the gall to ask her that? Yes, he was right on both counts, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t a little upset about it. “I’m a little hurt, Jaune,” she said. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Jaune protested.

“After all I’ve done for you-”

“It’s because of what you did for me that I know you could have done this,” Jaune informed her. “In fact… you’re the only person I can think of who might have done this.”

Sunset did not reply. She felt her appetite start to ebb away as her stomach chilled noticeably. So, he suspected her. He thought her capable of such things. He could not think of anyone else who might be so capable as she was.

And here, Sunset had thought that she’d been changing for the better, that she had a fresh start here, that these new friends didn’t realise what she was capable of.

Apparently, that was very naïve of her.

“You can’t possibly be able to prove that.”

Jaune’s brow crinkled a little. “No,” he admitted. “I can’t. But my sister Aoko is pretty savvy with technology, and she probably doesn’t hate me for coming to Beacon, so I bet if I ask her to look into this-”

“What do you want, Jaune?” Sunset demanded, as she flopped down onto her bed. With one hand, she reached out and grabbed her stuffed unicorn, feeling the soft felt fur beneath her fingers, squeezing the toy for comfort. “Is it lien? I don’t have very much of that. Do you want your essays done for you? Do you want yours and Pyrrha’s essays done for you so that you two have more time to-”

“Sunset,” Jaune cut her off. “What are you talking about?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I assumed you were about to blackmail me.”

“'Blackmail?' Come on, Sunset!” Jaune cried. “This is me you’re talking to! Jaune Arc, remember? Goofy guy with a heart of gold?”

“Did you just describe yourself as possessing a heart of gold?”

Jaune shrugged. “It’s pretty shiny, don’t you think?”

“I…” Sunset shook her head. “Well, if you didn’t want to blackmail me, then why did you clear the room? If you wanted to call me out, then why didn’t you do it in front of Ruby and Pyrrha?”

“Because I know that it matters to you what Ruby and Pyrrha think, just like I know that they wouldn’t understand; they’d think you did something wrong,” Jaune said. “And you know that too, don’t you? That’s why you don’t want them to find out.”

Sunset stared up at Jaune. When he had asked her if she was the one responsible, she had felt as though the floor had disappeared to reveal only an ocean beneath; now, Jaune was throwing her a lifeline. “I know that they wouldn’t understand,” she muttered. “They would see only a despicable act.”

“Well, it was pretty rough, what you did to Lyra,” Jaune said.

“And Cardin and Bon Bon?” Sunset asked. “Was it pretty rough what I did to them?”

Jaune hesitated. “I… I don’t think it’s my place to say whether a faunus ought to get upset about stuff like that.”

“But you think it’s your place to say whether a faunus should get upset about having the White Fang symbol painted on her door?”

“I think that it’s my place to say that you shouldn’t go around hurting people who have nothing to do with the thing that you’re upset about,” Jaune said. “Why Lyra? Why not Bon Bon?”

“I couldn’t get into Bon Bon’s scroll,” Sunset explained. “It was too heavily protected.”

“That’s weird.”

“Some people are security conscious, I suppose,” Sunset murmured. “Why… why did you think it was me?”

Jaune folded his arm. “Something happened to Blake and then something bad happens to the people harassing her? It reminded me of what you did when Cardin did something to me.”

“Right,” Sunset whispered. She looked down at the floor. “Are you mad?”

“I’m… disappointed,” Jaune replied. “I thought you were better than that. I thought you’d gotten better than that.”

“I have gotten better,” Sunset protested. “I’m not a bad person; I’m a good person who… occasionally does bad things. Which does not include what I did to Cardin, by the way; he had it coming.

“Doesn’t it?” Jaune asked. “Are you sure that it doesn’t?”

Sunset hesitated. “No,” she admitted. “His girlfriend broke up with him.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Neither can I, but… I felt sorry for him when I found out.” Sunset sighed. “I… you know, he came to see me last night to surrender. He waved the white flag and begged me not to do anything else to him. Promised that he wouldn’t trespass against us.”

Jaune stared down at her. “And did that make you feel better?”

“No,” Sunset confessed. “Not the way that I thought it would.”

Jaune was silent a moment. “Why?”

“Because they hurt Blake.”

“I’m sure Blake’s dealt with much worse than school bullies with loud mouths in her time.”

“That doesn’t mean that she should have to!” Sunset exclaimed. “What happened to it not being your place to decide what faunus should be mad about?”

“What happened to you being a better person?” Jaune asked. “What happened to you being past that kind of thing?” He frowned. “Is this going to be a thing now? Is this what you’re going to do every time somebody says the wrong thing to Blake, or to one of us?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing for me to care about you all,” Sunset snapped. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing that you guys matter to me. You make it sound like it’s a bad thing for me to want to take revenge against any wrongs done to you.”

“It kind of is,” Jaune cried. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s great that you care, but… well… the way that you show it is… is this going to be a thing?”

“Come on, Jaune, I’m a lot of things, but a bully isn’t one of them,” Sunset said. “When have you ever known me to make the first move?”

“You didn’t make the first move this time, but that doesn’t make it any less…” Jaune trailed off.

“Less what?” Sunset asked.

“Less wrong?” Jaune suggested. “Okay, with Cardin and Bon Bon, it was complicated, but with Lyra? Are you going to go after Weiss because she’s associated with Cardin?”

“Weiss and I are good now, and Cardin has given up.”

“Until he annoys you again?” Jaune demanded. “Did Cinder have anything to do with this?”

Sunset got up off the bed. “What does Cinder have to do with this?”

“You tell me,” Jaune said. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her and… well, don’t you think she’s kind of creepy?”

“'Creepy'?” Sunset repeated flatly.

“She can be creepy to me,” Jaune said. “The point is… I don’t think that you would have done this before you met her.”

“I make my own decisions, Jaune,” Sunset declared. “No one is manipulating me or forcing me to do anything.”

“Are you going to make your own decision to stop doing stuff like this?” Jaune asked. “Sunset… you’re a good friend, to all of us. And you’re right, it’s not a bad thing that we can always count on you to help us out when we’re in trouble. No matter what, we know you’ve got our backs, and that is… that’s great. But you don’t need to do this stuff, and I think you know that.”

Sunset huffed and pouted her lips. She did know that, that was the worst part. Blake had told her so already, and Blake… Blake was right.

And she knew that she had done… well, she might not say that she had done wrong over Cardin, but she hadn’t needed Blake to give her a lecture in order for her to feel guilty about it. Breaking up a relationship, that… that was just a wicked thing to do.

It was her decision and no one else’s, and it had been a cruel decision.

They had both been cruel decisions. Cruel decisions which had belonged to an older Sunset, one which she had thought to leave behind.

She closed her eyes. “I… I am very fortunate,” she said. “If you were not such a kind man, then you could have ruined me.”

“I’m not that guy,” Jaune told her.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “You’re a better man than that, and than me.” She smiled wanly up at him. “It won’t happen again. You call me out rightly for it, I… I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

“Was it you thinking?”

“Yes!” Sunset said firmly. “Cinder had nothing to do with this.” Okay, Cinder had helped her out with the technical side, but it had been Sunset’s idea, and that was what mattered. “This was me. It was all me.” She paused. “Thank you, Jaune.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me of who I’m trying to be,” Sunset told him. “And now…” She didn’t really know what to say about now. She wouldn’t do it again? Only her actions could demonstrate that. He had done her a service, but the fact was, right now, being in the same room as Jaune felt suddenly very awkward, embarrassing, almost shameful.

She wanted to get out; she just wasn’t sure how to extricate herself from the situation.

“You should probably go,” Jaune told her. “Don’t want to stand up Twilight, do you?”

Sunset chuckled nervously. “Right,” she said, and made her exit as swiftly as she reasonably could. It was only with great restraint that she didn’t teleport out of there.

She left the dorm rooms and trudged across the grounds of the school towards Benni Haven’s, passing students from all four academies headed the other way in the direction of the dining hall. There was no sign of Twilight Sparkle, and Sunset quickened her pace against the possibility that Twilight – not burdened with needing to discuss things with Pyrrha and Jaune – had gone on before her and would be waiting when she arrived.

She thrust her hands into her pockets. Jaune had been right to call her out. It was good that she had someone like that on her team, someone who wasn’t… someone who didn’t… Pyrrha and Ruby were too nice, was what Sunset was trying to get across inside her head. Which wasn’t to say that Jaune wasn’t nice as well; it was just… a different kind of nice, a less trusting kind. Yes, trust. That was the issue. It wasn’t that Jaune was less forgiving than Ruby or Pyrrha – in fact, Sunset thought it likely that Ruby would be the least forgiving of anyone who fell short of her high standards of good conduct – but that he had, strangely for a boy who had lived his entire life in a backwater village, seen a little more of the world than the tournament champion or the huntsman’s child. He was a little more willing to suspect jackassery; possibly because he’d been on the receiving end of it more often than either of the girls had.

They needed someone like that on the team. Sunset needed someone like that, someone who would call her out as he just had, but at the same time kind enough to do it in private and give her the chance to mend her ways without exposing her in front of the rest of their friends.

It occurred to Sunset that she had squandered just such a chance from Rainbow Dash, whom she hadn’t spoken to since she had exposed Cardin and Bon Bon. She had no idea what the Atlesian huntress thought about that or what she meant to do about it. She hadn’t done anything yet, but that was no guarantee she wouldn’t. Perhaps Twilight would be able to shed some light on that front.

Either way, Sunset probably owed her an apology.

She would not, however, apologise to Bon Bon; she could accept that she’d been wrong without abasing herself before someone who had, quite frankly, had it coming.

And besides, to actually apologise to her victim would involve admitting guilt, and that could lead to all kinds of problems.

No, she would, as the saying went, keep moving forward, improving her future without stopping to make amends for her past.

As she walked down the gravel path towards the restaurant, Sunset wondered why it was that Jaune blamed Cinder for Sunset’s behaviour. Yes, they had talked about what Sunset meant to do, and Cinder had even given her a hand with some of the technological aspects of it, but she hadn’t pushed Sunset into any decisions. She had been a sympathetic ear but a largely compliant one, making the right noises but not putting any thoughts into Sunset’s head.

Sunset made her own decisions, and she wasn’t going to cut Cinder out of her life because she’d made some mistakes.

She was certain that, if she were to ask Princess Twilight about it, she would be told that blaming your friends for your own problems was a great big friendship no-no.

See how well I’m learning, Princess? I don’t even need to ask you to hear your opinion.

Sunset pushed open the door to Benni Haven’s and was confronted by the familiar sight of Fluffy the Beowolf; he wasn’t a real beowolf, of course, any more than the ursa’s head on the other wall above the fireplace belonged to a real ursa, but it looked real enough, and it gave the place a little bit of that hunting lodge character.

Besides, the team photos steadily engulfing the wall wouldn’t have been the same without him; he elevated something that could have felt officious or perfunctory and made them fun.

Every team that came to Benni Haven’s was invited to have their photo taken with the mock grimm, one copy going to the team themselves and the other being kept by the eponymous owner of the restaurant to hang on the wall as part of her constantly expanding collection. As Sunset waited – the restaurant was deathly quiet, and empty too; Sunset was the first and only person in here – she walked past Fluffy and looked at all the photos on the wall. The largest picture by far was, notably, the only one in which Fluffy did not feature: it was a photograph of Benni’s own team, from her Beacon days before she retired to become a restaurateur. Sunset didn’t look at that one long; her gaze was focussed on the more recent pictures, sweeping from frame to frame, over the quartets of smiling, laughing, joyous faces.

Team YRDN was there, in its old configuration, with Dove glancing up at Fluffy as if he was afraid the fake was going to come to life and try to bite his head off; Ren, standing at the edge of the picture, was managing the difficult feat of looking deathly serious even as he fended off Nora’s attempts to drag him closer to the centre of the shot. Team YRBN didn’t have a photo – they clearly hadn’t come here with Blake yet – but the new configuration of Team BLBL did while, as far as Sunset could see, they hadn’t had a photo taken while Blake was their leader.

Sunset felt a tinge of melancholy at the fact that Blake had no picture upon this wall. Team SAPR had one – their copy hung on the wall beside the door – with Jaune leaning on Fluffy and Sunset leaning on Ruby; the other three members of Team YRBN had one; Team RSPT had one, with Penny making peace signs with both hands while Rainbow beam proudly; even Trixie’s team had one, with purple smoke pooling at the bottom of the frame suggesting Trixie had accidentally set a bomb off. But there was no Blake. There was no record of her here.

Okay, yes, there were records in the archive, but… this place was a record all its own, a place where you could look upon the faces of the huntsmen and huntresses who had come before – and wonder how bravely they fought, how fiercely they loved.

Sunset found herself wondering how many of them had been used by Professor Ozpin and how many had paid dearly for it.

“Sunset?” Benni said, coming out from the kitchen and into the restaurant area. “You’re here early. All by yourself?”

Sunset straightened up and turned to face Benni Haven, a middle-aged squirrel faunus with a cybernetic arm and a big bushy tail that curled up at the top before it rose higher than her head. “I’m meeting someone here,” she explained. “I thought she might be here already, but it seems I’m the early one.”

“Well, you can pick whatever table you like,” Benni told her, gesturing all around the empty restaurant. “Just the one other person you’re expecting?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, you sit down, and I’ll get you a couple of breakfast menus,” Benni said. “You want a cup of coffee while you wait?”

“Can you bring a pot?” Sunset asked. “Hopefully, Twilight won’t be too long.”

“One pot of coffee coming right up,” Benni declared. “Hey, Stan did you get that?”

“Yeah, I got it,” replied a male voice from the kitchen. Benni’s husband did all of the cooking, but Sunset had never actually seen his face. He was just an ethereal creature on the other side of the door, producing meals to order.

Sunset took a table in the back corner of the restaurant, sitting down with her back to the wall and facing the door so that she could see Twilight come in when she arrived.

Benni strode over to her with the morning menus, putting one down in front of Sunset and the other before the empty space opposite her.

“Thank you,” Sunset said.

“So,” Benni said. “What’s up?”

Sunset looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Having breakfast alone, with only Twilight for company; you got something to talk about you don’t want to share, right? Something going on?”

Sunset grinned. “You realise that if there was something going on, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”

“Hey, your secrets are safe with me,” Benni told her. “Eight years, I’ve been running this place, and I’ve never spilled a student’s confidence yet.”

Sunset hesitated. Benni had been here for a while, both as a student and as the owner of this place; she had seen a lot of students come through here – although given what she’d just said about confidence, there would be limits to what she was willing to say. “You ever… have you ever noticed anything weird going on around here?”

Benni snorted. “Kid, this is Beacon Academy; it sometimes feels like weird is all there is around here sometimes.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, but you know what I mean, right? More than just the usual stuff, like…” She groped for a way to say ‘magic’ without actually saying ‘magic.’ “Anything strange, even for this place?”

Benni shrugged. “It depends what you mean by 'strange,'” she said. “You know Dove Bronzewing in your year, right?”

Sunset nodded. “I know Dove a little, sure.” You don’t mean to tell me that Dove’s mixed up in this magic stuff, is he?

How can he be? He’s not a girl.

“One time, when Dove and his friends were in here, I hear them talking about this girl, Amber. I tell them that I know who they’re talking about; she hung around the school for about a year or so. Not a student, though. No team; I don’t think she went to classes, judging by some of the times she turned up here, but she lived in the school all the same. That was a little weird.”

“Did you find out what she was doing here?”

Benni shook her head. “Professor Ozpin told me that she was his niece. He brought her in here sometimes for dinner.”

“Did you believe him?”

Benni nodded. “He treated her like family, although I never heard of him having any other relatives; still, the Professor is the kind to keep things close.”

You don’t know the half of it. “Maybe she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Maybe,” Benni conceded. “Sometimes, she’d come in here by herself; she was always… it was like she was scared of something. Scared of everything. Skittish like. I tried to talk to her, make her feel a little welcome, but she always… it was like she was scared of me.” She chuckled. “Poor kid was even scared of Fluffy.”

“Maybe there’s a good reason she wasn’t a student.”

“Probably. Then, one day, she just… disappeared. Stopped coming around. No word or anything.”

“It doesn’t sound like you two were close.”

“No,” Benni allowed. “But she didn’t tell Dove where she was going either; now that’s a little weird, right?”

Possibly, but hardly the sort of weirdness that Sunset was interested in. “I guess,” she murmured. “What about Professor Ozpin?”

“What about him?”

“I’ve heard that he has favourites,” Sunset said. “Like Team Stark, back in the old days.”

Benni was still for a moment, and quiet. At length, she nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d say that was about right for Team Stark. I mean, to be fair, we all knew that those four were something special even before they saved the day at Ozpin’s Stand. Everyone – and I mean everyone, even the upperclassmen – looked up to Team Stark. They walked around the school like they owned it, and from what I heard, they’d been that way even in Freshman year. People recognise talent, and Team Stark had it to spare.” She grinned. “From what I hear, people are starting to look at Team Sapphire that way, what with you catching criminals and stopping bad guys.”

Sunset chuckled as she felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. Ordinarily, she would have been quite content to drink deep of the flattery, but right now, she had other concerns on her mind. “And Professor Ozpin?”

Benni nodded. “Sure,” she said. “Ozpin gave them more missions than any other team, and juicier missions too. Like… they were the only ones he could count on when things got really tough.”

“So the headmaster does have favourites.”

“There are favourites,” Benni said. “And then there are favourites of favourites. Every year, there’s one team that starts school that Professor Ozpin is particularly interested in, like last year, it was Team Coffee. But sometimes, it doesn’t stay that way, like… maybe they’re not as good as he thought they were going to be, I guess, or some other team with more motivation overtakes them. But other times, like with Team Stark, it’s like he gets really interested, like he can see something in them. Of course, we could all see something in Team Stark, so that wasn’t a big surprise.”

Sunset nodded. Favourites of favourites, that made sense. Professor Ozpin would want to take some time to make sure that the ones he had his eye on were what he thought they were, the same way that Celestia had taken the time to decide that Sunset wasn’t what she was looking for and Twilight Sparkle was.

What it also told her was that they might have to wait until second year to find out if Team SAPR was one of those special favourites, or if it was Team YRBN, or if nobody had impressed him enough at all.

There was a certain irony to the fact that the surefire way to protect her team from the Headmaster’s machinations was to screw up, and that was something that Sunset’s pride would not allow her to do. She was done hiding her light beneath a bushel, even for safety’s sake.

“Thank you,” she said. “I just heard a few things, and I thought you’d know the truth.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Benni said. “Now, I’ll see how your coffee’s getting on.”

The coffee was done, apparently, because Benni brought the pot over shortly afterwards with two plain china cups, a very small jug of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes. Sunset poured herself a cup with ample amounts of sugar in it and sipped the hot, brown liquid while she waited for Twilight.

The door opened, and Twilight walked in, wearing a silly smile on her face as she looked down at her scroll; so engrossed in it was she that Twilight almost walked into Fluffy, stopping herself only just in time.

Sunset waved at her as Twilight looked around the restaurant.

“Hey, Twilight!” Benni hailed her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Ms Haven,” Twilight replied, as she jogged quickly across the restaurant and sat down in the free seat next to Sunset. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset said. “I haven’t been here long.”

“Good,” Twilight said. She looked down at her scroll again, and the smile returned to her face as she put the device away.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sunset asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Twilight said, as she blushed furiously. “Just some texts from Neptune.”

Sunset blinked. “'Neptune'? Neptune Vasilias?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, sounding a little embarrassed about it. “He, uh, he asked me out last weekend.”

Sunset’s eyebrows. “Really? And you said yes?”

“Why not?” Twilight asked. “He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s-”

“A player?” Sunset suggested.

“I think that’s just an act,” Twilight replied. “I think he’s a lot sweeter than he seems.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured. It wasn’t really any of her business, but she was a little afraid that Twilight was setting herself up for disappointment here. As like as not, she’d catch him cheating on her before the year ended. He seemed that kind of guy; he didn’t have any of his team leader’s sincerity. Personally, Sunset wouldn’t have trusted him as far as she could throw him without magic.

But it really wasn’t any of her business, and if Twilight thought she could handle it, well, she was a big girl. And it wasn’t what Sunset had asked her to breakfast for. “Well, best of luck,” she said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Oh, um,” Twilight looked at the menu in front of her. “Have you had the crepes here?”

Sunset ordered two sets of crepes with strawberries for herself and Twilight and, while they were waiting, asked, “How are things with Penny?”

“Do you mean herself or,” Twilight’s voice dropped a little as she leaned forward, “her swords?”

“The swords,” Sunset murmured. “Although if you want to talk about anything else, that’s fine.”

“Penny’s doing great,” Twilight said. “Well, she’s happy at least, and so far, her performance in every trial she’s been engaged in has been exemplary. Her father is very impressed; so is General Ironwood and the authorities back home. On all the evidence currently available, the project is a complete success. I, on the other hand, am not a success.”

“No more luck?”

“None,” Twilight groaned.

“Maybe you should ask Ruby for help,” Sunset suggested. “She was able to get that monstrous scythe to fold up; maybe she can help you shrink the swords?”

“Ruby?”

“She’s smarter than she looks,” Sunset informed Twilight. “Or acts, sometimes. The point is that she really does get this stuff; maybe she can be the fresh pair of eyes you’re looking for.”

“Maybe,” Twilight agreed. “It’s worth a shot at least.” She hesitated. “And, have you thought anything more about-?”

“Don’t,” Sunset said firmly. “If my answer changes, I will let you know.”

“Right,” Twilight said softly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset told her. “Just… don’t push it.”

“I won’t, and I am sorry,” Twilight repeated. “I’m just… anyway, why did you-?” She stopped, as Benni brought their crepes over. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me 'ma’am'; I’m not that old,” Benni said. “You girls enjoy it and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Sunset replied, pouring herself another cup of coffee. “You were saying?” she asked as Benni retreated.

“I was about to ask why you invited me to have breakfast with you,” Twilight said.

Sunset chewed on some crepe wrapped around a strawberry. The fruit was soft and gave way easily before her teeth, which didn’t stop it from tasting good in any way. Once she had swallowed, she leaned forward a little, “I’ve been reading those books you gave me,” she said, “and I think I know what happened to all the magic.”

“Really?” Twilight demanded in a voice laced with sarcasm. “A mystery that has baffled a whole community for years, but you’ve got it all figured out just like that?”

“I’m smarter than anyone else,” Sunset declared breezily, sipping some of her coffee.

Twilight stared at her flatly.

“Plus, I had some information that no one else had access to,” Sunset explained.

“Hmm,” Twilight murmured. “Go on, what happened?”

“Professor Ozpin hid it away,” Sunset said.

Twilight snorted some of her coffee out of her nose and spent some little time getting the rest out before she was able to speak again. “Professor- that’s ridiculous!”

“I thought that General Ironwood was the man you all admired so much you couldn’t believe him capable of fault.”

“He is,” Twilight said. “I mean, he isn’t-”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, he is.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Twilight admitted. “But anyway, this has nothing to do with admiration and everything to do with the fact that he’s not old enough. If you had read those books I gave you-”

“I did.”

“Then you’d know that magic ‘disappeared’ centuries ago, maybe even longer; Professor Ozpin isn’t nearly old enough-”

“Okay, so he didn’t start it,” Sunset conceded. “But he’s the one doing it now?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Ruby’s mother told me.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t Ruby’s mother dead?”

“She left a diary,” Sunset explained. “Which I… came into the possession of in the course of a story which has no relevance to this matter.”

“Please don’t tell you found the journal of Ruby’s late mother and kept it for yourself.”

“Why does everyone always assume the worst of me?” Sunset demanded. “After all I’ve done for you people, why is it that I am yet denied the benefit of the doubt and continually must endure accusations-”

“Because the accusations are often true, Anon-a-Miss,” Twilight declared acidly.

Sunset blinked, pursing her lips together. “Rainbow told you, didn’t she?”

“Uh-huh,” Twilight said flatly.

“How’s she feeling about me right now?”

“Ambivalent,” Twilight replied. “She doesn’t like what you did, but… what Cardin and Bon Bon were saying to Blake… I think that it’s hard for her to get too angry at you when she’s so upset at Bon Bon.” Twilight hesitated. “Bon Bon did say those things, didn’t she?”

“Do you think that I could fake that? Well enough to fool journalists?”

“Probably not,” Twilight conceded. “To think that Bon Bon could be so vile, could hold such horrible opinions. We were never close, but I thought we were all on good terms, and all the times she was being pleasant and polite to Rainbow Dash, she was secretly thinking stuff like that. I would never have believed it.”

“I would,” Sunset replied. “The only reason to be that self-righteous is if you want to distract attention for your own wickedness.”

“Maybe, and maybe it was just my naivete showing that I didn’t see it until it was obvious,” Twilight murmured. “I just thought we were better than that now. I thought that wasn’t who we were any more.”

“People?”

“Atlesians,” Twilight clarified.

Sunset shrugged. “Society can move as fast or as slow as it wants; there will always be those who refuse to move with it.”

“I suppose,” Twilight sighed. “Do you think this will affect Blake’s view of Atlas?”

“I wish it would,” Sunset muttered. “Sadly, I think the fact that Trixie and that other girl-”

“Starlight.”

“Yeah, her, came to back her up will count for more than where Bon Bon was born.” Sunset swallowed some more strawberry. “After all, she’s Beacon’s problem now.”

“Lucky you,” Twilight said quietly. “But, anyway, you were saying about the diary of Ruby’s mother.”

“Summer Rose, yes,” Sunset agreed. “As I was saying before I was impugned, I did give it to Ruby, but she has kept me informed on what she’s found out from it. That’s how we found out about Silver Eyes; her mother wrote about them. Just like Summer also wrote about a mission that she and her team went on while they were students, to escort a woman named Auburn to a village out in the sticks. On the way, they were attacked by grimm, but Auburn defended them using ice, fire, wind, and lightning.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “The same as when-”

“You were saved as a child,” Sunset agreed. “Now get this: Professor Ozpin assigned that mission to Team Stark personally. He introduced Auburn to them as an old friend.”

“That doesn’t prove he knew-”

“He knew,” Sunset insisted. “Else why would he have assigned Team Stark the mission? What did he think Auburn was going out into the countryside to do?”

“What was Auburn going out into the countryside to do?” Twilight asked.

“She found a young girl, a former student named Merida who had dropped out of Beacon, and took her away with her.”

Twilight frowned. “But why?”

“Auburn died, no more than a year after that mission,” Sunset explained. “Cancer.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “In the legends, magic always passes upon death.”

“And to the person the last wielded of the magic is closest to,” Sunset added. “Or to whoever kills them, but if we assume that Auburn really did die of natural causes, then she went to collect her successor and keep her close until the end came.”

Twilight’s eyes flickered back and forth. She looked away from Sunset and down at the table in front of her. “So… when the Red Queens were vanquished-”

“My theory is that the heroes who killed them had come into possession of their magic.”

“And in order to make sure that they or their successors were not hunted down-”

“They went into hiding, allowing the memory of magic to fade away,” Sunset continued.

“Until the present day?” Twilight asked. “And Professor Ozpin knows about this? Why? How?”

“I can’t answer how,” Sunset said. “Perhaps… perhaps there is no one Old Man; there are a succession of Old Men who have been initiated into the world’s mysteries, and he is the latest of them. The point is that he knows, he knows so much more than he is letting on, and he is keeping magic from the rest of us. He and those who came before are part of a conspiracy to make sure that magic is not seen in the world again.”

“Then how do you explain my accident?” Twilight said. “Whoever our rescuer was, they used magic.”

“Maybe they got tired of hiding?” Sunset suggested. “Maybe they didn’t realise that you were awake and thought that nobody would see them cutting loose? Maybe their conscience wouldn’t allow them to stand by and let a family die for the sake of their secret? But that was a one off-”

“It’s not the only incident that’s been recorded.”

“Let me guess,” Sunset said. “All isolated, just like yours; all with a lack of credible witnesses, just like yours; all completely deniable, just like yours.”

Twilight nodded mutely. “Pretty much.”

“So maybe they’re not hiding it all the time, but they’re not going out of their way to make a spectacle of themselves,” Sunset said. “We’re a long way from the prophets.”

Twilight sagged in her seat. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?” She sighed. “Well, that’s that, I guess.”

Sunset frowned. “What do you mean, that’s that?”

“Well, it would have been nice to be able to officially solve the mystery, but that can’t happen-”

“What do you mean 'that can’t happen'?” Sunset demanded. “We know what we’re looking for now; we have to keep digging and-”

“And what?” Twilight asked. “If we’re right, then magic disappeared for a pretty good reason-”

“There is no good reason for hiding what you can do,” Sunset declared. “Still less for hiding who and what you are.”

“Not even to protect yourself?” Twilight asked. “Or to protect others who would be in danger if the powers fell into the wrong hands as they did before? You have… everything that you’ve said makes perfect sense, and I believe it, but… with what you’ve told me, I’m not willing to go on, not now that I understand what happened and why. If you’ve read the account of the reign of the Red Queens, then you know what’s at stake.”

“This isn’t the olden days; I don’t believe that one person, even with magic, could just take over like that,” Sunset said.

“It’s too big a risk,” Twilight insisted. “There are other mysteries to pursue, other questions to answer, phenomena that aren’t – or don’t seem to be – connected with the prophets or the Red Queens. But on this matter, we have to trust that Professor Ozpin knows what he’s doing-”

“Why?” Sunset demanded. “Why do we have to trust him when he hasn’t given us any reason to?”

“Because we have to put our trust in authority, or who can we trust?” Twilight asked. “If we can’t trust our headmasters and generals, then… what, do we just make our own choices?”

“Oh, how terrible, we might actually have to think for ourselves.”

“And when your thoughts conflict with Ruby’s?” Twilight asked. “Or Pyrrha’s? When you and Rainbow Dash butt heads with no one higher up to resolve it because you’ve rejected the notion of responsible authority, what then? Are you going to fight it out? Break heads to establish your dominance? Anarchy and barbarism, that’s where this leads, we need authority, we need order-”

“You sound like a tin pot despot.”

“And you sound like a savage!” Twilight snapped. She sighed. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t think we should risk breaking the world just to prove that we were right.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment. “That’s the difference between us, Twilight. As far as I’m concerned, a world where magic has been hidden like this is already broken.”

Black Sword, Blue Eyes (New)

Black Sword, Blue Eyes

“Ruby, is something wrong?” Pyrrha asked as the two of them walked towards the cafeteria. The sun was up, the day was bright, Pyrrha could think of nothing that ought to be troubling Ruby, and yet, it seemed that Ruby was troubled. Her head was bowed, and she was playing idly with her fingers as she walked.

“Huh?” Ruby asked as they walked past Professor Ozpin – who nodded genially to them, which Pyrrha acknowledged with a bow of her head – going the other way. “No, sorry. It’s just… I was thinking about what you said about Sunset’s sword. About how the two brothers fought on opposite sides of the Great War. I was just thinking about how terrible that must have been for them.”

“War has a habit of turning brother against brother, friend against friend,” Professor Ozpin lamented. “All the moreso when ideology and the demands of faction mingle with the call of kingdom and comradeship.” He smiled sadly. “Forgive me, ladies, I happened to overhear.”

“That’s quite alright, Professor,” Pyrrha said, turning to face the headmaster as Ruby did likewise.

“So, it happened a lot?” Ruby asked.

“Regrettably often, yes, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied. “With exiles from Mistral and Mantle, and of course, there were some amongst the Valish to whom the philosophies of Mantle and their emphasis upon the suppression of individual feelings resonated greatly.”

“Uh, of course,” Ruby said nervously, reminding Pyrrha that she had missed on a great deal of history by skipping two years of combat school. “I can’t imagine anything that would make me fight against Yang.”

“War is a terrible business,” Pyrrha agreed. “That is why we train to uphold the peace that blesses our world.”

“Of course,” Ruby said. “I’m just saying that it would have been hard on them.”

“No doubt, although neither of them left any testimony to that effect,” Pyrrha said. “But, brave as Achates was, he was only human, and I am sure he felt the pang of separation from his family.” She looked down at Ruby. “What do you think should be done with the sword?”

Ruby’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why are you asking me about something like that?”

“Because you are righteous and kind, and you have a good heart,” Pyrrha explained. “One that is not clouded by tradition or what my family has done in the past or Sunset’s desire to hang on to the sword.” She smiled. “So, what do you think?”

Ruby stopped walking, clasping her hands together for a moment as her lips moved without speaking.

“I think… I think that maybe your family should have given the sword to his brother,” she said. “After all, the war was over; there was no reason to hold a grudge just because you’d fought on different sides. I mean it was still his family.”

“You are… correct, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “But I don’t think we should be too quick to judge those who came before us. I’m sure it must have been a lot harder to forgive and forget for those who had just emerged from the war.”

“That’s the other thing,” Ruby said. “I’m not sure if they would have really wanted it. I mean… he was still dead. If Yang died… if I lost her, I don’t think having Ember Celica with me at home would make me feel any better. I don’t think having Mom’s weapon would make me feel any better. Maybe that’s why nobody made a big deal out of it at the time.”

“You may be correct,” Pyrrha said. “Although in Mistral, we certainly act as though it will bring comfort to those we leave behind to receive our effects.” Her brow furrowed. “If I die-”

“You’re not going to die, Pyrrha,” Ruby declared, cutting her off.

“If I die,” Pyrrha repeated. “Will you bear my circlet home to my mother, and Miló too, if it can be found? So that she might have something to remember me by?”

“Do you think it would make her feel any better?” Ruby demanded. “Do you think that having a circlet will make up for not having a daughter any more?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “Probably not.” Although if she yet has Sunset, that might offer some consolation. She chuckled softly. “As I told you, you can see things much more clearly than the rest of us because you’re an outsider to all this.”

Ruby shrugged. “I just know a little bit about losing someone. Anyway, I don’t think that the sword belongs to that Phoebe girl. It’s all so long ago now, too long ago to suddenly insist that it matters. If it’s been in your family since the Great War, you should be allowed to do what you like with it. And besides, she sounds like a bully.”

“I fear that she can be,” Pyrrha confessed. “Please, Ruby, if you can, stay out of this matter while Phoebe is around; I fear that she can hold a grudge against those whom she perceives to have wronged her.”

“I’ll try,” Ruby said softly. “Is Sunset going to be okay?”

“I hope so,” Pyrrha replied. “Sunset… can usually handle herself. Although I do wish that Phoebe hadn’t brought her into this; I would tell her so myself, but it would do more harm than good.”

“Are you one of the people she’s holding a grudge against?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied candidly. “Phoebe… does not accept defeat in the same good sport that someone like Arslan does.”

“Hey, guys!” Jaune called out as he jogged across the courtyard to catch up with them. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“No problem, Jaune,” Ruby said, winking at Pyrrha.

Jaune grinned at her. “What were you just talking about?”

“Sunset’s sword,” Ruby explained as the three of them now – Jaune fell in easily in between Pyrrha and Ruby – started walking towards the dining hall, as more and more students from Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade descended upon it from all four corners of the school. “And whether or not she ought to give it back.”

Jaune snorted. “Even if she should, there’s no way that it’s going to happen,” he said.

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I was hoping – and Ruby agreed with me – that Phoebe has no real claim upon the blade. Sunset is under no obligation to do other than what she wishes.”

“Is there anything that she can do to take the sword away from Sunset?” Jaune asked.

“Legally, no,” Pyrrha replied. “She could challenge Sunset to a duel with the sword as the prize of victory-”

“Like her mother tried to do with you?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “But I think that, against Sunset, Phoebe would more likely have someone else challenge Sunset on her behalf.”

“Why?” Jaune said, his brow furrowing a little. “Surely that would mean that whoever she got to do it would get the sword.”

“Yes, but they could make arrangements beforehand,” Pyrrha explained. “Or Phoebe could buy it from them once it had been won.”

“Why not just challenge Sunset herself?” asked Jaune.

“Because…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Phoebe is very proud; I think that she would fear losing to Sunset, because she has never fought in the arena and…”

“And she’s a faunus,” Ruby murmured.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha confirmed. “We Mistralians are supposed to surpass all others in single combat; if Phoebe is defeated by Sunset-”

“Would she be defeated?” The question came from Jaune. “I mean, is she any good?”

Pyrrha considered what she could say that would be both kind and accurate towards Phoebe Kommenos. “She is… not one of my great rivals,” she admitted. “I think that Sunset would defeat her and, in so doing, destroy Phoebe’s reputation, or she would fear it would be so. As I say, if she goes down that route, she will most likely use an agent.”

“It doesn’t seem to me like she has many other routes to go down,” Jaune said as they neared the dining hall doors. “I mean, it’s not like she has a deed or anything, right?”

“No,” Pyrrha allowed. “But… there may be something else that I haven’t thought of.”

“I’m sure that Sunset can handle it, whatever it is,” Ruby said, and on that, they were, all three of them, in agreement.

They entered the dining hall, picked up their trays, and joined the queue of students waiting in line for the counter.

“So, Jaune,” Ruby said, “are you sure that you can’t tell us what it is that you and Sunset had to talk about?”

“I’d really rather not,” Jaune murmured.

“You know that if you’re in trouble, Pyrrha and I can help out too.”

“I’m not in trouble!” Jaune squawked. “I just needed to… please, Ruby, just drop it, for Sunset’s sake.”

“We won’t pry into anything private, of course,” Pyrrha said, a tad reproachfully. She hesitated. “But you’re not in any trouble, are you?”

Jaune chuckled. “No, I’m really not in any trouble.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I’m glad. Then everything went okay with Dove?”

“Ooh, right, you two switched partners last night, didn’t you?” Ruby remembered. They had both been quite tired when they were done and hadn’t talked at length about what went on. “How was that?”

Jaune shrugged. “Dove… he fights dirtier than you do.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “How do you mean?”

“You fight… formally, I guess,” Jaune elaborated. “But Dove, he… does things that might not be in the rulebook, like grabbing my shield with his bare hands to pull me off balance, or kicking me in the face when I’m down.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. It was true that she never did anything like that when she sparred with Jaune, although it was not quite accurate of him to say that it was because they were not in the rulebook. There was less of a rulebook when it came to fighting in the arena than there probably was in Professor Goodwitch’s class, but Chiron had taught her to fight with a certain dignity and poise, and the fact was that she was sufficiently skilled fighting in that fashion that she didn’t need to stoop to low tricks… unless one counted the way she used her semblance.

Jaune, on the other hand, was not that skilled – not yet, at least – and Pyrrha was beset by worry that she had been letting him down by neglecting this area of his development. “Would you like me to fight dirty?” she asked. “Or show you how?”

“Do you know how?” Jaune asked, a touch of amusement in his voice mirroring that which was on his face.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “No,” she said, turning away from him briefly and focussing on the queue that was bearing her forwards towards the counter.

“Uncle Qrow likes to say that fighting fair is a good way to end up dead,” Ruby said. “Maybe it’s something you could both learn.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “But from who?”

“Dove?” Jaune suggested.

“I can’t train with Dove if I’m training with Lyra,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“That’s a good point; how was Lyra?”

“Lyra… would be much more skilled if she applied herself more,” Pyrrha said quietly, and hoped she wasn’t overheard.

They all got their breakfast – protein-heavy sausages and bacon for Pyrrha, cereal for Ruby, waffles for Jaune – and sat down at their usual table, which either by luck or habit was still free to receive them. Pyrrha sat down opposite Jaune, with Ruby sitting next to him.

“Guys,” Jaune said, as he sat down. “There’s something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about – especially you, Pyrrha – for a little while, since we got back from that mission on the train. I think that someone might need to talk to Flash and find out what the story is between him and Sunset.”

Ruby pursed her lips together. “Aren’t they exes?”

“Yes, exactly, but I’d like to know what he did and why, and… and does he know how badly he messed Sunset up?”

“That’s rather a harsh way of putting it,” Pyrrha murmured. “Not least to Sunset herself.”

Jaune took the opportunity of eating to not reply, or perhaps he simply couldn’t reply because he was eating. In any case, it took him a few moments of chewing and swallowing before he said, “Did you guys know that Sun’s teammates locked him out of their dorm room for a bit?”

“No,” Ruby said.

“Blake mentioned it,” Pyrrha said. “But she also said that they had relented and that Sun was taking his responsibilities much more seriously now.”

Jaune nodded. “But before that, while you were all out, Sunset let Sun nap on the camp bed in our dorm room when she found him… on a sofa, I think. Anyway, she told him that he hadn’t done anything wrong and that he ought to put Blake first above everything else, because that was what a guy was expected to do if he was in love.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. The vision of romantic commitment outlined by Sunset was, she had to admit, a tempting one. As the current recipient of Jaune’s affections – now and hopefully forever – there was something alluring about the idea of him devoting his life wholly, solely, and only to her, dropping everything and anything to time and again put her at the centre of his life.

And in the privacy of her own heart, she had to concede that there was something… rather magical about Sun stowing away on the RSPT airship to join Blake on her mission. Blake might have affected to be annoyed by it, she might have genuinely been annoyed by it, but at the same time, it was so breathtakingly romantic that it made Pyrrha sigh inside. She almost wished that Jaune were on another team so that he could chase after her.

Foolishness. Pure silly, feather-headed foolishness. If Jaune were on a different team, then he would never have seen Pyrrha Nikos, still less seen her as a partner in love as well as in battle. She would never have had the courage or the chance to let him know, in any way, how she felt. If Jaune were on a different team, then his responsibilities would be to that team, and anything he did to be with her instead would be placing his own prospects at risk for her sake. No, it would have been the most selfish thing in the world to allow him to do that.

Blake is very lucky, but so am I in other ways. In fact, I’m luckier, because I get to have my boyfriend right beside me and never feel guilty about it at all.

With Good Fortune, indeed.

More rationally, she could recognise that what Sunset was advocating was rather unwise. It was quite surprising to hear that Sunset had said this, although she didn’t doubt Jaune was being honest with them. “Of course, if you had behaved-”

“That’s what I said,” Jaune declared. “She didn’t really have an answer to that. And then she… I don’t want to say she threatened me, but she kind of gave me the shovel talk about how I needed to treat you right, and if I was just messing around, then I needed to come clean about it and how you deserved better than that. And you do!” he added hastily. “I’m not trying to-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said softly, reaching out to place her hand on top of his. “You don’t need to defend yourself in front of me. I’m not afraid of any of that.”

“Good,” Jaune said, sagging with relief a little bit. “Because, honestly, I’m the…” He grinned, and Pyrrha guessed that he had been about to deprecate himself but had stopped because he could predict her reaction and wished to avoid the distraction. “The point is, I think this has a lot to do with how things ended between her and Flash.”

“She has said some things about boys,” Ruby agreed. “And there are times when… I mean, something hurt her; I just assumed that it was a lot of things from Combat School. Could it be all about one thing?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” Pyrrha whispered. “He broke up with her because she was a faunus, didn’t she?”

“Apparently, but if he was always like Cardin, why did he go out with her in the first place?” Jaune asked.

“Maybe it was all a game to him, hence why Sunset was worried about me,” suggested Pyrrha.

“Perhaps,” Jaune agreed. “I feel like… like someone should talk to him. He might not understand what he did.”

“Well, what are you going to say?” Ruby asked.

Jaune started. “Me?”

“It was your idea!” Ruby pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean I should get volunteered!”

“But you’re the one who gets all this!”

“I have to agree,” Pyrrha said. “Of the three of us, you are the one who seems to understand this situation best; in fact, I might say that you understand people the best out of the three of us. You see things that we don’t.”

Jaune stared at her. “Well… thanks, first of all, but second, if I’d know this was going to happen, I might have kept my mouth shut.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a giggle escaped from between her lips.

Her laughter was cut off as Arslan Atlan slammed her tray down onto the table before she occupied the seat next to Pyrrha.

“Morning, P-Money,” Arslan growled. “Oh, right, sorry: is this seat taken, and can I take it?”

“Um, I suppose you can,” Pyrrha murmured. After all, there was no sign of Team YRBN or Team RSPT at the moment, and it wasn’t the first time they had found those seats taken when they showed up. “Arslan, this is my teammate Ruby Rose and my…” She got butterflies in her stomach just thinking about saying it. “And my boyfriend, Jaune Arc.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ruby said. “Who’s P-Money?”

“I am,” Pyrrha sighed.

Jaune frowned. “Why?”

“I have no idea.”

“Pleasure, Ruby Rose,” Arslan said casually, before affixing Jaune with a glare. “So… you’re the boy, huh?”

“Is everyone from Mistral going to hate me for dating you?” asked Jaune, his eyes drawn to Pyrrha like a perplexed and worried magnet.

“I hope not,” Pyrrha said. “Arslan, please stop it. Where is the rest of your team?”

Arslan growled. “My team and I are having a little bit of a fight. I’m not just over here because it’s you but because I felt like your team leader- where is your team leader?”

“Having breakfast at Benni Haven’s,” Pyrrha explained.

“Without you?” Arslan asked.

“With someone else,” Ruby explained without really explaining anything.

“What about Sunset?” Pyrrha inquired.

“Bolin is going to challenge her to a fight over that fancy sword your mother gave her,” Arslan barked. “Phoebe Kommenos has paid him to do it. Little… I’d challenge her to a duel if I thought she’d accept.”

“I’m not sure that you have cause,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I have plenty of cause; she’s slighted me!” Arslan snapped. “Just because I don’t have ancestors stretching back to la de dah and ancient wars does not mean that I do not have honour. I am the Golden Lion of Mistral, and that is worth as much in the arena as noble blood and gilded circlets… no offence, Pyrrha.”

“None taken,” Pyrrha replied.

“She offered me money, you know,” Arslan said. “She told me that since I’d already beaten Sunset once that I could do it again, and then she offered me money. Me! She offered me money for a fight as though I was some amateur hour part-timer with a side gig as a leg-breaker. The insult! I am a professional athlete! I have dedicated spoils in the Temple of Victory! And she offered me money. And then she put the lid on it by offering Bolin money.”

“And he hasn’t got your scruples,” Jaune guessed.

“Unfortunately not,” Arslan replied.

“Is he any good?” Ruby asked.

“Not as good as he thinks he is,” Arslan told them. “He thinks he should be team leader instead of me, which tells me how cocky he is. But he knows what he’s doing.”

“So does Sunset,” Pyrrha declared. “For the most part,” she was compelled to add by honesty.

“Well, if she loses, then… well, she’s lost,” Arslan said. “And lost the sword as well. But you won’t be able to say that I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll let Sunset know,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you, Arslan.”

Arslan shrugged. “I’ve never liked Phoebe,” she muttered. “Never liked her, never rated her; the last thing I want to see is her getting the chance to gloat over getting one over on you and yours. That and, well, I kind of like your team leader, even if she did insult me.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “I mean, there’s a lot to like about Sunset, but I wasn’t aware that you knew her beyond taking offence.”

“I can recognise someone who’s had to struggle to get where they are,” Arslan said. “I admire that.” She paused. “I warned you that there was going to be trouble over this.”

“Yes, you did, I admit,” Pyrrha conceded. “You’re not… I wouldn’t want you to suffer for our sake.”

Arslan snorted. “Only a little rich girl from the heights would think that having the likes of Reese and Bolin act disappointed in me was suffering,” she declared. “No offence.”

“Um, none taken,” Pyrrha murmured. “Nevertheless, you may have put yourself on the wrong side of opinion with your fellow students, and I am grateful.”

“Well, if you’re looking for ways to make it up to me...” Arslan said.

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something that you want?”

“Not me, exactly,” Arslan said. “You remember that documentary series we were in about the history of the tournament scene?”

“Ooh, you’ve made TV programs as well?” Ruby cooed.

“I didn’t make it,” Pyrrha explained quickly. “Current tournament fighters were asked to contribute talking head segments, about what it was like to fight, how it felt to walk into the coliseum, that sort of thing.”

“Well, the producer called last night just before Phoebe showed up to ruin my evening,” Arslan went on. “MBS are making a documentary about the Vytal Festival – to explain it for everyone before it all starts, you know-”

“Who doesn’t know about the Vytal Festival?” Ruby asked.

“Uh, I wouldn’t mind a primer,” Jaune said.

“I was going to say ‘kids,’ but okay, it’s for P-Money’s boyfriend.” Arslan said. “Besides, just because people know what it is doesn’t mean that they understand the history and stuff. Anyway, Autumn Blaze is doing the voice over, but they asked me to host it… except what they really want is for the two of us to host it together, only all your calls go through your mother, and you’re not talking to your mother at the moment, so the only way to get in touch with you was to ask me to ask you, so… what do you say?”

“I say that you should explain what you mean by ‘hosting,’” Pyrrha replied.

“Just some scripted bits, taking the cameras on a tour of the Amity Arena, reading out the questions for some interviews with, like your headmaster,” Arslan said. “I’ve been practicing my face for when the camera cuts to me when the interviewee is answering the question.” Arslan proceeded to make ducky lips, squinting slightly as she furrowed her brow and nodded repeatedly, in what Pyrrha realised was supposed to make her look sage and understanding.

“I think you may need to work on that a little more,” Jaune suggested, and Pyrrha was rather glad that he had said it and not her.

“But it sounds fun, doesn’t it?” Arslan said. “Can I tell him that you’ll do it?”

Pyrrha sighed. “I’m not sure that it’s such a good idea; we’re only students; doesn’t it seem as though we’re getting rather above ourselves?”

“We’re not just students though, are we?” Arslan demanded. “Come on, Pyrrha, who has a better chance of winning than one of the two of us? I’ll even flatter your ego – don’t expect that to happen too often – and say that it’s most likely to be you. How cool will that be for a trivia note: the presenter of this show went on to actually win the tournament?”

“I came to Beacon to get away from that sort of thing,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“If you wanted to get away from the limelight, then what are you doing running around Vale busting robberies and nailing gangster kingpins?” Arslan asked sourly. “Face it, P-Money; you’ve only gotten more famous since you came to Beacon.”

“That’s different,” Pyrrha said. “That was duty, and a public service-”

“And this is public service television; it’s not as though I’m asking you to co-star in an original miniseries,” Arslan said. “Look, I know that you don’t like the fame, but the fact is that you are famous, and you do have fans, and so, that being the case, don’t you think you have a duty to use your fame for the public good? That’s why my fee for this show is going to go to Magic Mealtimes.”

“Magic what?” Ruby repeated.

“It’s a charity back home in Mistral,” Arslan explained. “They deliver meals to schools to give to the kids who’d go hungry otherwise. It’s a worthy cause, and it makes a big difference, believe me. Which is why… I didn’t want to have to guilt you into this, but the production company has agreed to match my donation if I can get you on board, so what do you say?”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured, looking down at the half-empty breakfast tray in front of her. She looked around the dining hall, at all the students tucking in before the start of another day of exertion of the mind and body. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to arrive for classes with an empty stomach, a yawning that might not be appeased until lunch time, if then. She had never had to go hungry like that in her life; the wealth of the Nikos family meant that she had always been guaranteed a nutritious meal. That was why she didn’t get involved in the work of charities like Magic Mealtimes: Arslan had grown up poor and hungry, so when she went on TV to promote the organisation people took notice. The same message from Pyrrha would have seemed like pious virtue signalling by comparison.

But this was not a direct endorsement. This was just an opportunity to do some good, and she supposed that it was all educational.

And she did owe Arslan for the warning.

“Very well,” she said. “You may tell your producer friend that I’ll do it. We’ll do it together.”

Arslan grinned. “Thank you, Pyrrha,” she said. “This will be very classy, I promise.”

“I might hold you to that,” Pyrrha said with a slight smile playing across her face. “Although I’m a little surprised to see you excited about scripted segments.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage to punch up the lines a little,” Arslan said airily.

“Excuse me,” Cinder said, walking up behind Pyrrha. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

As there was still no sign of their usual companions – Pyrrha wondered what was keeping them – Pyrrha felt as though she had no choice but to say, “Please, be our guest.”

Cinder smiled and chuckled ever so slightly as she sat down next to Arslan. Her brow furrowed slightly. “No Sunset?”

“She’s having breakfast at Benni Haven’s, with Twilight,” Ruby explained.

Cinder’s nostrils flared slightly. “I see,” she murmured. “How very… selfish of her.”

“Not really,” Ruby replied. “She had something she needed to talk to her about.”

“Indeed?” Cinder asked. “And what were you talking about, may I ask, before I so rudely interrupted?”

“My mother gave Sunset a gift when we were in Mistral last,” Pyrrha began.

“Ah, yes, the famous blade Soteria,” Cinder interrupted. “Yes, it is a subject of some talk amongst we Haven students. Lady Nikos does Sunset great honour, wouldn’t you agree, Lady Pyrrha?”

“Just Pyrrha, please,” Pyrrha whispered. “I believe I’ve mentioned that already.”

“Oh, yes, you did,” Cinder conceded with a little laugh. “How foolish of me to forget. Please forgive me, Pyrrha.”

“It’s quite alright, just… try and remember next time,” Pyrrha urged gently. “The talk amongst the Haven students, is it as bad as Arslan says?”

“You don’t trust me, Pyrrha?” Arslan demanded.

“Don’t take it so personally, Golden Lion,” Cinder said, her voice soft and soothing. “In matters such as these, it is always wise to get a second opinion.” She smiled, a bright smile that yet had something sharp about it. “Not everyone cares, of course, but there are those who think it is rather unnatural that Lady Nikos should favour an outsider above her own daughter. I only repeat what others say, of course.”

Jaune scowled. “Cinder, can I have a word with you? Outside?”

The scowl remained on Jaune’s face as he led the way out of the dining hall and into the morning sunshine in the courtyard beyond. His face might be thunderous, but his stomach was squirming a little. Cinder had that effect on him. There was something about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke… she was creepy, like he’d said to Sunset, and it was amazing to him that nobody else seemed to feel that way but him.

He couldn’t help but think back to that night in Mistral, to the hunt for the Karkadann, when Cinder had stayed up all night as the fire died down before her.

"Some might even feel emasculated." That was what she’d said to him, when talking about being on a team with Pyrrha, and then to say that to Pyrrha herself?

'I only repeat what others say,' my ass, Jaune thought to himself. There was not a doubt in his mind that she was stirring the pot, and he thought she’d probably done it with Sunset as well, for all that Sunset denied it.

He wouldn’t just stand by and let it happen. He didn’t think that it would work, what Cinder was trying to do, breaking up their team, but that didn’t mean that he was going to simply stand by and let it happen.

…Granted, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do to stop her, but… but he was going to let her know that she wasn’t getting away with it, and maybe that would be enough to get her to back off.

He kept on walking, looking up at the statue of the noble huntsman rising above him. Valour, like Professor Ozpin had said; he just had to tough it out.

Jaune turned around, to see Cinder very close by him, practically close enough to touch.

“So, Jaune,” Cinder purred. “What is that you wanted to say but couldn’t say in front of your girlfriend?”

Jaune took a step backwards, and then another for good measure. “Stop it,” he said coldly.

Cinder looked at him blankly for a moment, before she started to giggle uncontrollably. “I was joking,” she declared. “Don’t tell me you’re so uptight that you can’t take a little harmless fooling around.”

“It isn’t funny,” Jaune declared. “None of this is. And I want it to stop.”

Cinder stopped laughing. “You want it to stop?” she repeated, her voice cooling rapidly. “And what is it, precisely, that you want to stop?”

“All of this,” Jaune declared. “What you said, just then; you were trying to turn Pyrrha against Sunset.”

“I was only telling what I had heard.”

“I don’t believe that,” Jaune insisted. “Were you only repeating what you heard when you asked me if I felt emasculated? Or were you trying to make me feel it so that I’d pull away from Pyrrha?”

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know; why did you encourage Sunset to follow her worst instincts?” Jaune demanded.

Cinder was silent for a moment. “'Her worst instincts'? Since when is defending yourself an immoral instinct?”

“When-”

“When those that are being defended against, those who commit acts of aggression, are the ones with the power,” Cinder growled. “When they make victims of those they consider to be powerless, when they take out their fears and frustrations on the ones beneath them, then the last thing they want is to be challenged. The last thing they want is for the underdog to bite back. And so they call it wickedness and villainy and name you foul for even considering it. And if you agree, then maybe I’m not the one that Sunset needs to be careful of.”

“What Sunset did was wrong,” Jaune repeated firmly. “What you encouraged her to do was wrong. Sunset isn’t some powerless victim, and Bon Bon and Cardin aren’t oppressors. What you did was wrong, and Sunset realises that now.”

“Does she?” Cinder murmured, sounding almost disappointed to hear it. “And did Sunset tell you that I had put her up to those awful things she now regrets?”

“No,” Jaune replied. “Sunset told me that it was all her own idea and that you had nothing to do with it.”

For a moment, Jaune thought he saw relief blossom on Cinder’s face, although he couldn’t quite work out why. It wasn’t as though he could get Cinder in trouble for what she’d done; even if Sunset did point the finger, it would still be Sunset that had done these things. So what did she have to fear?

Unless… could she actually like Sunset? Was she actually worried that Sunset had betrayed her?

But she’s manipulating her!

“I… I see,” Cinder whispered. “Sunset didn’t say anything, but you… you saw it anyway. Because you see everything, don’t you? Nobody’s watching you, so you see it all with those blue eyes of yours.”

Those blue eyes of his narrowed. “If you want to put it that way, I guess.”

Cinder chuckled. “Let me tell you what I see,” she said. “You may call yourselves Sunset’s friends, but none of you really understand her. What she is. What she could be. I am the friend and ally that Sunset needs. I am the best friend that Sunset Shimmer could ever have.”

Ditzy (New)

Ditzy

Sunset opened up her locker. Her weapons and her field outfit sat there, neatly folded or hung in the case of her clothes, waiting for her.

But it was Soteria that drew her eye: the black sword with the storied past that was suddenly causing her life a great deal of commotion. She would have been lying if she'd said that the weapon had been worth it in terms of anything that she had achieved with it so far, but that was almost irrelevant because physical achievements with the blade, while they might be nice, were not really the point. The point was that Lady Nikos had honoured her with this, and that honour would not be diminished no matter what Sunset did or did not do with the sword – unless Sunset failed to do something pretty drastic, like not save Pyrrha when she needed her.

But when was Pyrrha likely to need Sunset to save her?

Sunset pulled off her school jacket and hung it up inside the locker. As she started to undo the ribbon tie around her neck, she said, "So, after trying and failing to buy Soteria from me, Phoebe has resorted to paying someone else to fight me for it. That… that is pretty pathetic, I must say. Hardly the actions of a noble warrior and aspiring Champion of Mistral."

"I must agree with you," Pyrrha said as she tied her scarlet sash around her waist. "It is hardly the course of honour."

"I thought that she might challenge me to a duel herself," Sunset declared. "But I never thought that she would stoop to hiring another to be her champion. Is she afraid to face me?"

"She is afraid of the loss of face if you defeat her," Pyrrha clarified.

"Huh," Sunset murmured. "I would rather that she had been so afraid of me that she did not dare step into the ring against me, but I suppose I can take fear of loss. And she's right; if she faces me, she will lose."

"Do you know how good she is?" Jaune asked. "Or not?"

"I know that she's not nearly as good as she'd like to be," Sunset replied. That much had been obvious from what Pyrrha had said, and what she had not said. Phoebe, it was clear to her, aspired to the kind of greatness that Pyrrha possessed but did not have the raw skill – or the work ethic, probably – to actually achieve such greatness. And so, she was consumed with envy, a jealousy that twisted round and round inside of her like a parasite until she was made mad by it.

She reminded Sunset of… Dawn. Not of herself, obviously, for she had possessed the stuff of true greatness in her – as she was showing in this world of Remnant – and her own envy of Cadance had been driven not be inadequacy but by a lack of opportunity to shine as bright as she was able to, as bright as she knew that she could shine if only Princess Celestia would let her rise. Dawn, though, Dawn had never really been in Sunset's league, and she had known it too, and that knowing had eaten her alive.

Phoebe was lucky that Pyrrha was less proud and vainglorious than Sunset had ever been, else she might have taken glee in Phoebe's failures and served to make the wounds hurt all the more.

If she had, the lesson might have sunk in by now.

"What are you going to do?" Ruby asked.

Sunset took off her blouse and pulled her purple top over her head. "I'll accept this Bolin's challenge, and I'll beat him, obviously."

"You don't have to accept," Pyrrha counselled her. "Bolin has done nothing to personally injure you, nor you him. There is no cause that cries out for the restitution only a duel can provide."

"Maybe not, but if I refuse his challenge, then I'll look like a coward," Sunset replied. "People will say I did not fight because I was afraid to lose, the way that Phoebe shows that she is afraid to lose by getting someone else to fight on her behalf." She shook her head. "No, I will not make her mistake. I will meet this challenge and defeat anyone she hires to send against me."

"But, if you lose, then you'll lose the sword," Jaune reminded her.

Sunset affixed him with a firm gaze. "Then I will not lose," she said.

They all finished getting changed, and – dressed for action, if any of their names should be called up today – they headed out of the otherwise empty changing room and into the amphitheatre proper for Professor Goodwitch's sparring class.

Today, Team SAPR took their seats up in the gallery, looking down upon the stage and upon the benches around it where other students were gathering. Sunset spotted Trixie Lulamoon, the lights reflecting off the stars sewn onto her cape, leading her team to seats near the front. She also saw Arslan Altan and presumed that one of the two huntsmen nearby must be Bolin Hori, Phoebe's catspaw.

"Hey, guys," Yang said as Team YRBN took the row of seats above Team SAPR, "what's up?"

"Sunset's about to be challenged to a duel," Ruby explained.

Yang's eyebrows rose. "Again?"

"Don't say that like it happens all the time," Sunset complained. "I challenged Pyrrha once, as I was within my rights to do."

"Compared with the average student's total of zero, one is a big number," Blake murmured.

"I had cause," Sunset repeated. "Some people around here have no respect for tradition."

"Perhaps because tradition has little respect for some people," Ren suggested in a tone that Sunset could only think of as deceptively mild; he wouldn't have bothered to say such a thing unless something was bothering him.

"So, who's calling you out, huh?" Nora demanded eagerly. "And why? Come on, spill it, have you been naughty?"

It was ironic that she had, in fact, been naughty but that that had nothing to do with why she was about to get a challenge. "Someone wants my sword," she said, deciding not to mention that it had belonged to Phoebe's great-great uncle in case it moved them to take her side.

"They want to fight you so that they can take your stuff?" Nora demanded. "Rude."

"I feel like there's more to it than that," Ren said carefully.

"Not as far as I'm concerned there isn't," Sunset muttered.

"Alright, quiet everyone, settle down," Professor Goodwitch commanded as she strode into the amphitheatre, her heels clicking upon the floor, and walked up onto the stage. Her riding crop was held behind her back, clasped in both hands as she ran her owlish gaze over the assembled freshmen. "You all know the rules by now, so I see no reason not to dive straight into it. I trust that you are all prepared and ready." Her riding crop dropped to her side, held in only one hand as, with the other, she got out her tablet, balancing it in her left hand. With her right, she deftly kept hold of the crop and manipulated the device, running her fingertip across the screen and pushing buttons until she declared. "The first match will be between Bolin Hori and Trixie Lulamoon; please make your way up onto the stage without-"

She was too late to stop a flood of dark blue smoke from spreading out across the amphitheatre as Trixie let off one of her smoke bombs. She did not then manage to teleport up onto the stage, but at that point, so many students were coughing or spluttering that probably most of them missed her leap up from her seat, trip over the hem of her cape, get up, and then finish running up onto the stage and out of the cloud.

Apparently, she had failed to reckon with the students in the gallery, or she just didn't care about them, one way or the other.

Professor Goodwitch gave her a very frosty glare. "Miss Lulamoon, I believe I've made my views on your little theatrics perfectly clear."

Trixie laughed nervously. "Sorry, Professor. Some habits are hard to break."

Sunset’s would-be – or soon-to-be, given that Sunset had already vowed not to refuse his challenge – opponent made his way up onto the stage in a less unorthodox manner. He strode up confidently, purposefully, the slightest trace of a confident smirk upon his face. Where the Great and Powerful Trixie was all show with her outfit, Bolin was dressed half pragmatically, in grey pants and vest, and half with an eye to fashion, with a pair of vivid yellow sashes around his waist and across one shoulder. His muscular arms were covered by dark, opera-length gloves, like Pyrrha’s but with the fingers cut out, and in his hand, he held a wooden staff that seemed to possess no other qualities. Around his neck, he wore a string of grey beads; Sunset remembered that Arslan wore fire dust crystals around her neck and wondered if Bolin used earth dust the same way.

I guess I’ll find out, won’t I? Sunset thought. Lucky for me that he got called like this.

Bolin took up his position, the butt of his staff resting on the floor, golden eyes fixed on Trixie.

Trixie raised the gleaming white wand in her right hand; the tip glowed pale blue.

“Are you both ready?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Bolin nodded silently.

“The Grrreat and Powwwerful Trrrixie is rrready!” Trixie proclaimed, flinging out her other arm so that her cape billowed out.

“Is she for real?” Yang demanded from behind them.

“Don’t underestimate her,” Blake murmured. “She’s got it when it counts.”

“Does it count now?” Yang asked.

Blake hesitated. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

Sunset leaned forward. Don’t beat him too quickly, Trixie; I want to find out what he’s got.

She was starting to think that it might be quite an ‘if’ whether Trixie could beat him or not; after all, assuming Phoebe wasn’t a complete idiot, she wouldn’t have hired someone who didn’t stand a chance against Sunset; just because Bolin was only her second choice didn’t mean that he was without skill.

All the more reason this match was a boon for her.

Professor Goodwitch stepped down off the stage with surprising grace, considering the drop she was navigating. Her head was bent down, and with her finger, she tapped a couple more times upon her tablet to cause the images of Trixie and Bolin and their aura levels – both green – to appear upon the banners that hung down the back wall. She turned to face the two combatants, her back to the rest of the students. “Begin!” she declared.

Bolin started the battle with a headlong rush, dashing straight towards Trixie, his legs pounding.

Trixie smirked triumphantly as she gestured flamboyantly with her wand. But she didn’t aim at Bolin; rather, she aimed at the ground in front of her as a freezing blast leapt from the tip of her wand, a great cone of ice that expanded outwards from her weapon and across the floor, burying the black surface of the stage in ice and encasing Bolin’s feet within its frigid embrace. And not just his feet, either, as the ice spread across the floor, so too it spread up Bolin’s legs until it covered his knees. The Haven student was quite literally frozen, unable to move in any direction.

Sunset leaned back, folding her arms as her eyebrows rose. That’s it? she thought as she watched him struggle against his imprisonment, heaving uselessly first with one leg and then another. That’s the guy who’s going to take my sword from me?

He’s not much, is he?

Trixie clearly thought so too, because she laughed aloud as she ejected the ice dust vial from the base of her wand and inserted a lightning dust vial instead; the chilly blue glow at the tip of her wand was replaced with a sickly yellow light.

Trixie looked supremely confident now, and Sunset couldn’t blame her; she had immobilised her enemy, and now, she could finish him off practically at her leisure. Sunset was a little surprised that Professor Goodwitch hadn’t called the match already; it was all over bar the shouting.

Trixie’s grin was savage as she raised her wand once more, and now, she aimed it square at Bolin. Jets of yellow lightning leapt from her weapon, snapping like wild hounds, cavorting over and around one another on their way to their target. Bolin spun his staff wildly before him, the wood whirling, but though he was able to catch some of the lightning upon his staff – so that it only lashed at his hands instead of his face and body – he could not stop all of it; the power of Trixie’s dust penetrated his defences, whipping his face, his chest, his shoulders, snapping and crackling as it tore at him like dogs on a hunt.

But his aura barely dropped at all.

It should have dropped; taking a continuous blast of lightning like that should have been flaying his aura towards the yellow, staff or no. Instead, although his aura dropped, it did so only by a small amount and remained stubbornly in the green, and the high green at that.

Sunset’s eyes widened, and a quick glance confirmed that her teammates were all similarly astonished. His aura levels must be almost on a par with Jaune’s, and having a lot of aura was basically Jaune’s thing. Whether Bolin was skilled or not remained to be seen, but the boy was an absolute beast when it came to how much he could take.

He stopped blocking with his staff, and as he raised the wooden weapon above his head, she could see that it was still hurting him to get shocked like that; his face was a rictus of controlled pain as the yellow lightning rippled up and down his form, but he bore it nonetheless as he brought the staff down upon the ice that held him captive.

Bolin’s aura dropped by a larger amount than the lightning had degraded it as, with an aura-induced shockwave, the ice shattered. Bolin leapt forwards, staff whirling in his hands as he fell upon Trixie like a hawk.

Trixie took a step backwards, teetering upon the very edge of the stage. With her free hand, she reached for one of the purple pouches that she wore at her belt, pulling out another smoke bomb and flinging it down onto the stage. The fighting platform was engulfed in blue smoke, rising in curling clouds to conceal Trixie from view. Bolin landed amidst the expanding cloud, just about visible due to his height as he brought his staff down in a savage slash where Trixie had been just a moment before.

Trixie leapt upwards and out of the smoke cloud, her starry cape flying out behind her, her pointed hat wobbling upon her head, her silver hair askew as her jump carried her upwards into the air above the stage. Trixie reached into a different pouch, producing three fire dust crystal clasped between her fingers. They began to burn an instant before she flung them down like missiles to blossom in flame amidst the smoke. Bolin’s aura dropped, but not by enough.

Trixie descended back onto the stage, and there, she began to slip upon her own ice, her arms flailing wildly as her high boots struggled for purchase. Bolin took his moment. He charged out of the smoke, crunching the ice beneath his feet, his staff whirling in his hand. He swung, a heavy, two-handed blow that struck Trixie across the head and caused the illusory Trixie conjured by her semblance to dissipate into thin air.

Trixie let out a triumphant shout as she flung more fire dust crystals – a whole handful of them this time – out at Bolin.

Bolin ripped one of the grey beads from off his neck and flung it down, ducking as he did so.

Trixie’s fire dust crystals burst around him, flames erupting in a ring all around the Haven student. Trixie flung some more crystals for good measure, and Sunset suspected that she sought to blast Bolin clean off the stage where it wouldn’t matter how much aura he had left.

But the only damage that Trixie’s fire was doing was to the dome of stone that Bolin had formed around himself.

Earth dust, just as Sunset had suspected. It cracked and crumbled as the fires raged all around it, but Bolin’s monstrous aura remained intact throughout the barrage.

The dome cracked, and a single good-sized boulder flew out of it to strike Trixie upon the temple. Her hat was knocked off her head; she staggered backwards as her aura dropped and was unable to react quickly enough as Bolin burst out of the dome and fell upon her.

At which point, it was all over, bar the actual beating of her aura into the red. Trixie had never had much talent for close combat.

Bolin, on the other hand, was talented, if not particularly sophisticated; he struck Trixie into the gut to make her double over, then swung his staff upwards to strike her in the face. He swept her legs out from under her to dump her on the floor, then just kept hitting her until the fight was done.

“That’s enough,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “The match is over, Mister Hori; you are victorious.”

Bolin nodded. “Thank you, Professor,” he said, and then he looked up, and it seemed to Sunset that he looked directly at her, a glimmer in his golden eyes that seemed to say ‘you’re next.’

Cheeky little-

“Are you sure you want to fight that guy?” Jaune asked as Professor Goodwitch gave the two of them her notes.

“Yes,” Sunset said, sounding even more firm now than she had in the locker rooms. If she had feared to be thought afraid before, she was absolutely not going to back down just because she’d seen him fight. She would allow no one to say that she had run in fear of his prowess.

Not after the way he’d looked at her.

“I’m not Trixie,” she added. “I can handle him.”

“How?” Ruby asked.

“I… haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Sunset admitted. “But I’ll find a way; you guys trust me, right?”

“We have every faith in you, of course,” Pyrrha said. “Speaking as someone who has been on the receiving end of your attacks, they hit harder than I imagine Trixie’s dust does.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured. “I’m not sure if that will work.”

Pyrrha frowned slightly. “Why not?”

“This is a fight over Soteria, right?” Sunset asked. “That means that I should probably use Soteria.”

Pyrrha raised one eyebrow. “You mean to fight him sword against staff?” She couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice.

“I thought you had every faith in me?”

“I do,” Pyrrha insisted. “But the sword is not your strongest weapon.”

“But it is the object of this battle; that cannot be ignored,” Sunset replied. How can I claim the right to Soteria if I do not wield Soteria? Sometimes, you had to accept a slight disadvantage in order to prove a point. Besides, she’d make it work.

Hopefully.

By now, Professor Goodwitch had finished advising the two combatants and putting the stage back into order. Her attention was once more upon her device. “That was a very good match to begin with, so let’s carry on with… Pyrrha Nikos-” A murmur of anticipation ran around the crowd as Pyrrha got to her feet, waiting to see who her opponent would be. Penny, down in the lower level, stuck her hand up in the air and started bouncing up and down in her seat in an effort to attract Professor Goodwitch’s attention.

Professor Goodwitch didn’t look up to notice. “Against… Ditzy Doo.”

Pyrrha entered the lower level of the amphitheatre by the front, passing between the two rows of haphazardly placed benches as she walked with a steady pace towards the stage.

When the combat began, the lights dimmed, save for those on the stage itself, to encourage the students’ attention that way. In a sense, it was more like being in a movie theatre than any arena that Pyrrha had ever fought in; under the light of the sun, a gladiator was expected to hold the audience’s attention upon their own merits.

Still, in the current gloom, she could see none of the other students as she passed between them; they were vague shadows to her, dark silhouettes devoid of detail. In the dark, they could almost have reminded her of the grimm, save that they weren’t trying to kill her.

No, they were just watching her instead. She could feel their gazes upon her, and self-consciousness made the gorget around her neck seem to heat up to an uncomfortable degree. They whispered too, though not loudly enough that Pyrrha could make out the words.

She had a reputation; that could not be avoided, but it didn’t mean that she enjoyed the fact. She did not enjoy the high esteem that verged on awe in which she was held by some, but as she reflected upon Arslan’s warnings to her, Pyrrha felt as though awe and respect might be preferable to being detested by her fellow Mistralians.

“Traitor!” someone hissed, as though to prove her point.

Pyrrha ignored the word and wished she could ignore the feelings that the word had roused in her. There was nothing she could do about it; she had no idea who had spoken or what in particular she had done – attending Beacon, dating Jaune, or something else entirely – to rouse their ire.

She could do nothing except pretend she had not heard, or that if she had heard, she did not care.

Pyrrha loved Mistral. She was not blind to its flaws; she saw as clearly as anyone the way that Mistral was too fond of the glories of its past to make any fresh achievements in the future. She loved it for the beauty of the mountainside city, for the gleam of the White Tower as it caught the light of the rising sun, for the gentle courtesy of so many of its people. The elder realm would always have a claim upon her heart and loyalty, but did that mean that she must devote her life to it wholly to the exclusion of all else? Did that mean that she was not allowed to go anywhere else, enjoy anything else, lest she slight Mistral’s fragile pride in so doing? Was she not allowed to attend a school in Vale without insulting Haven? Was she not allowed to date a kind and honest Valish boy without emasculating all the young men of Mistral to a degree that cried out for vengeance?

She had not asked for Mistral’s love; she had not asked for them to call her princess, to call her their pride, to speak of her as the rebirth of heroes whose stature she would not presume to measure herself against. She had won the title Champion of Mistral in the arena, but she had not thought it meant she was required to champion Mistral in all things and shun all traces of the foreign.

Others had chosen to place their hopes and dreams upon her shoulders, and now, they blamed her that she was not equal to a weight she had not sought to bear.

It was unfair.

And yet, at the same time, she was probably foolish and childish as well as selfish to think so. Her name was Nikos, she excelled in the public eye in a field in which so many Mistralians took pride; how could they not treat her this way?

She had asked for this; or at least, her mother had.

I would rather fight for you without your praise or eyes on me. And yet, for all this, I will go home once I have graduated and fight for you whether you watch me or not.

Unless… it occurred to Pyrrha that she hadn’t actually discussed the future with Jaune at all; it had seemed too early, and she didn’t want to scare him off. But what if he didn’t want to go to Mistral? What if he preferred to stay in Vale?

She would not leave him. She could not leave him, not even for her home; her heart revolted against the notion.

Perhaps that did make her something of a traitor after all.

Pyrrha did her best to block out all such thoughts and focus solely on the battle ahead as she leapt up onto the stage, her red sash trailing behind her.

Ditzy Doo was already there, waiting for her; she was of a height with Sunset, or near enough, with flaxen hair worn long and loose down almost to her waist, and cut in an untidy fringe that covered her forehead. A tail of the same flaxen colour dropped towards the floor from out of her pants. Her eyes were golden and slightly misaligned, one looking up and the other downwards. Her other features were soft and quite small, particularly her button nose which was barely visible upon her face. She was dressed in a blue shirt with the collar undone and a green skirt with white bubbles on one side, which must have been her personal emblem like Pyrrha’s spear symbol. She wore protective pads upon her knees and elbows, and bandages wrapped around her hands and lower arms.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice soft but her tone cheery at the same time. “Let’s do our best, okay?”

Pyrrha brought down her arms, and Miló – in spear form – and Akoúo̱ flew into her waiting hands. “Indeed,” she murmured.

Ditzy didn’t appear to have any weapons, but she bunched her hands into fists and raised them expectantly.

“Begin!” Professor Goodwitch cried.

Pyrrha dashed forwards, her armoured legs pounding as her sash flew behind her like a scarlet banner; she drew Miló back for a thrust aimed squarely for Ditzy’s chest. Ditzy, meanwhile, did not move; she stood there, eyes unblinking, letting Pyrrha come on.

Pyrrha leapt and thrust her spear; the gleaming tip of Miló plunged forth.

Ditzy twisted like an eel, her body contorting with incredibly swiftness as she twisted out of the way of the oncoming blow. She balanced on one leg, her other limbs spread out as Miló flew past her, Pyrrha’s arm extending outwards with it. Pyrrha began to snap backwards, using Polarity to more quickly reverse the momentum of her thrust, bringing up Akoúo̱ to defend herself-

Ditzy’s fist snapped out, and Pyrrha found that she was too slow, just too slow, to bring up her shield to prevent a punch square to the face. Her aura absorbed the blow but not the force that threw her backwards. Pyrrha ignored the smarting of her face – and the gasps from some in the watching crowd – as she converted being knocked head over heels into a backflip that set her down upon her feet and facing her opponent.

So strong! And so fast too! I’m sure that Arslan never hit so hard.

Her face was still smarting; honestly, that had felt a little worse than getting hit with Sunset’s magic.

Pyrrha flicked the hair of her ponytail out of her face as she threw her shield at Ditzy, Akoúo̱ spinning through the air at the level of Ditzy’s midriff. Ditzy leapt, her tail wrapping around her waist as she spun in place, a smile that would have been comical in other circumstances plastered onto her face as Akoúo̱ began to pass beneath her.

She reached out and grabbed it with one hand, plucking it out of the air and barely seeming to feel the momentum at all before, still spinning, she threw the shield right back at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha stepped forward, leaning away from the oncoming shield even as she stretched out her left arm towards it. She wondered if anyone would notice the black outline surrounding her gloved hand as she activated her semblance, turning her shield aside a tad and guiding it to where she could ‘catch’ it on her gleaming vambrace.

She slung it swiftly onto her back as, in her other hand, Miló switched from spear to rifle. Pyrrha pressed the gun to her shoulder and let fly with three rapid shots. Ditzy was a blur of motion as she squirmed, her body twisting this way and that, avoiding all three rounds which slammed harmlessly into the forcefield that surrounded the stage.

Instinct made Pyrrha glance towards the aura levels underneath the portraits displayed upon the wall; her own aura was down, but still in the green. More interestingly, Ditzy’s aura was down too, even though she hadn’t been hit.

So, a semblance. Some kind of quick reflexes, and it burns aura – although she may be using her aura to strengthen her attacks too.

Some semblances were more aura-efficient than others. Pyrrha’s ability to hide hers from general knowledge relied on the fact that; used carefully, it consumed practically no aura at all and was thus invisible from the perspective of anyone watching her aura level. That was how Sunset was able to conceal the fact that her aura didn’t drop despite her throwing out magic all over the place – although the fact that poor Sunset rarely got through a fight with taking some very aura-depleting hits certainly helped in that regard as well.

Ditzy, it seemed, was not as fortunate as Pyrrha in that regard; her semblance helped her to escape harm, but it burned her aura – although less than taking the hits would have, admittedly.

Either way, it provided a path to victory for Pyrrha: so long as she could avoid taking too many punishing blows herself, she could force Ditzy to deplete her own aura into the red through use of her semblance.

That would make her the winner, but it would also be rather unsatisfying, both for everyone watching and, more importantly, for Pyrrha herself.

This was a challenge, and she wanted to rise to it, not cheat her way around it.

Miló shifted to sword form in her hand as Akoúo̱ resumed its place on her arm.

Ditzy waited, her wall eyes making it impossible to tell what she was looking at, but Pyrrha decided it was best to assume that she was focussed on Pyrrha herself. And yet she made no move to attack. It seemed that her semblance encouraged her to be defensive; unfortunately for her, that meant ceding the initiative in battle.

Pyrrha hesitated, her mind whirling with potential movements, the counters to those moves that Ditzy could make, and how Pyrrha could counter those moves.

Yes, she thought, that way.

Pyrrha charged once again, her arms pumping as her legs thumped the stage, her ponytail flying. Ditzy prepared to meet her, fists raised. Pyrrha led with Akoúo̱, drawing back her shield arm – the shield was a weapon, just as she had always told Jaune – before throwing it forward like a punch, aiming the edge for Ditzy’s face. Ditzy dodged, as Pyrrha had expected she would, her semblance granting her speed and the agility to bend out of the way, her back arching.

She was still bending when Pyrrha slashed at her midriff with Miló.

It might have worked, and if it had worked, then Pyrrha would have been well-pleased, but she was not surprised when Ditzy leapt into the air, twisting yet further, turning and bending so that her Miló passed before her belly.

And as Miló passed, Pyrrha switched the weapon from sword to spear, her trusty weapon transition smoothly and, more importantly, swiftly, the point extending outwards to catch Ditzy too close for even her semblance to get her out of the way. Miló extended yet further with a bang as Pyrrha fired the weapon, flames leaping from the back as Ditzy was tossed backwards, hitting the stage and bouncing until she landed on her back near the edge.

Arslan and Sunset both cheered, and both were admonished by Professor Goodwitch.

Pyrrha leapt, the lights shining down from above glinting off her gilded armour, briefly silhouetting her like a falcon flying against the sun as she fell like thunder down on Ditzy Doo.

Her spear descended. Ditzy rolled out of the way, leaping up onto her hands and then using them to propel herself upwards, feet first, up towards the descending Pyrrha. Now it was Pyrrha’s turn to twist like an eel, sash furling up around her waist as Ditzy’s feet and legs flew past her.

Ditzy was still smiling.

And so was Pyrrha.

They both landed nimbly on their feet, and now – with her aura in the yellow – Ditzy went on the attack, her fists flying. Pyrrha took the blows on Akoúo̱, feeling the strength of her opponent reverberating through her arm. She swept at Ditzy’s legs with Miló. Ditzy leapt up. Pyrrha drove forwards, lashing out with Akoúo̱. Ditzy took the blow with both hands, but with no feet on the ground, it still threw her backwards, although she rolled with it and landed on her feet.

Pyrrha charged, Miló switching smoothly from spear to sword in her hand. Ditzy charged to meet her.

Pyrrha did not have a semblance that granted her the ability to dodge hits with preternatural agility, but she was agile and swift, and she had been taught the importance of striking without being struck. And so, when the two of them came together, it was not as two bulls or stags battling for supremacy in field or meadow; rather, it resembled two dancers, moving in time and harmony with one another, never touching as they each dodged all the blows of the other. Between Ditzy’s semblance and Pyrrha’s talent and experience, there was simply nothing between them.

The smile faltered on Pyrrha’s face, not because she felt in any danger of losing, but because she felt in grave danger of failing to win the right way.

She had to do something to break the deadlock before Ditzy’s aura ran out, but what?

And then she had it.

Pyrrha threw her shield, casting it aside in a wide arc that – with a little touch of Polarity – curved around the stage like a discus. She slashed with Miló, aiming for Ditzy’s neck and shoulder. Ditzy leaned back almost ninety degrees in another display of semblance-fuelled agility. Akoúo̱ flew back, heading first for the floor of the stage and then rising upwards towards Ditzy, who leapt up even as she remained bent over, her body straightening in the air as Pyrrha’s stroke passed above her, and Akoúo̱, despite its rising angle, seemed poised to pass beneath and pose more danger to its mistress than her foe.

Until Pyrrha applied a touch of Polarity to drastically increase the angle of Akoúo̱’s ascent. The shield jerked upwards, and once more, it seemed that there was a limit to Ditzy’s ability to get out of the way when something was too close. She started twisting, but too late, and Akoúo̱ struck her in the small of the back. Ditzy winced in pain, and Pyrrha brought Miló and both hands down hard enough to slam Ditzy into the stage and drop her aura into the red.

“And that’s the match,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “You are victorious again, Miss Nikos; congratulations.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, as she slung Akoúo̱ and Miló onto her back. She bent down a little to offer Ditzy a hand up. “You fought well.”

“Thanks,” Ditzy said, accepting Pyrrha’s hand. “I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pyrrha said, “because so did I.”

A Matter of Pride (New)

A Matter of Pride

The moon was out, and the stars surrounded her like courtiers around a princess as Beacon lay smothered beneath the shroud of night.

The lights of the Emerald Tower glowed softly in the sky high above the ground and were answered from an even greater height by the pilot lights of an Atlesian man-of-war holding position not far off the docking pads.

Fortunately, there were no smaller airships out flying patrol over Beacon at the moment and disturbing the air in consequence. It meant that, as Sunset sat out beneath the statue of the huntsman, the huntress, and the beowolf, she was not constantly disturbed by the whining of engines. Nor by any other sound; it was Thursday evening, dinner was done, and it was a school night – albeit the night before a shorter school day – and so there was no one around to bother her. Everyone was in their dorms, beavering away upon Professor Port’s homework.

Right now, she had other opponents on her mind than the grimm.

Bolin Hori had delivered his challenge. Sunset had accepted, of course; she had promised that she would, and she was a mare of her word; at least, she tried to be. It didn’t matter if she had given that word only in the presence of her three teammates; it was still her word nonetheless, and she had given it. She had given it, and she would hold to it.

Much though she might regret it now.

Bolin was not a poor choice on the part of Phoebe Kommenos. With his great store of aura alone, he might be able to withstand her long enough to beat her down, all the more so if she insisted on facing him with her sword instead of her magic.

Pyrrha was right; it wasn’t her strong suit. And yet, at the same time, it felt… wrong, somehow, to fight for the sword and yet not fight with the sword. Why did she deserve Soteria if she disdained to fight with it?

What was the good of fighting with Soteria only to lose it through incompetence?

Especially when the sword was hardly hers to lose.

That was why she was out here in the courtyard, instead of in the dorm room with the rest of them.

Her friends. Those who lifted her up. Those whom she let down.

The potential loss of Soteria was only one reason why she was here; the other reason, and the reason why her magical journal was sitting in a satchel bag, weighing heavily upon one shoulder, was revenge.

Bolin was but a limb of Phoebe; he moved according to her designs, doing what she instructed him to do – what she paid him to do. Sunset supposed bitterly that taking money from just anybody in order to do whatever they wished of him was as good training for the life of a huntsman as anything else that Bolin might learn at Beacon or Haven.

That was a bitter thought, one that surprised her a little. After all, she was training to become a huntress too, and so were Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby. Was that all they would become upon graduation? Hirelings for the rich and powerful, enforcers of their will, no matter how wicked?

No; no, that would not be their fate, not them. Ruby was too pure in heart to subjugate herself thus to the power of money; Sunset wouldn’t be surprised if she never once took an official mission but simply roamed the land wherever her nose for danger took her, righting wrongs and slaying monsters. Pyrrha was fortunate enough to have no need to abase herself to earn a crust – provided that her mother did not tire of her stubbornness and cut her off – and Jaune would be similarly secure so long as he recognise how lucky he was and stuck with her; and besides, Sunset wouldn’t be surprised if Lady Terri-Belle made another attempt to get Pyrrha for the Imperial Guard.

And as for Sunset herself… to be for sale was no more her destiny than it was Pyrrha’s. Neither would choose it, neither would accept it, both of them understood that they had been fashioned for far greater things, however proud that might sound to outsiders.

Let Bolin Hori keep his lien. Let him make more of it on mission after mission of dubious morality; Sunset might walk a poorer path, but it would be paved with glory for certain.

It pleased her, at the least, to think so. Now… what had she been thinking about just now? Ah, yes, Phoebe. Phoebe Kommenos, who feared to face Sunset across the arena and so used a catspaw.

Sunset had expected a challenge from Phoebe herself, but it seemed that she had overestimated the other girl in every way except her cunning.

Sunset wished to strike back at her… but she had promised Jaune that she was past that now, that she had learnt her lesson.

It was one thing to say something to Rainbow Dash and then go back on it: Sunset didn’t like Rainbow all that much; she was self-righteous and full of herself, and she had tried to bully Sunset into doing what she wanted. Jaune… Jaune was different. Jaune was her friend, and he had talked to her as a friend and persuaded her to turn aside from that road.

She… she didn’t want to let him down. He was such a nice boy.

A nice boy with blue eyes, like Flash.

Lucky, lucky Pyrrha.

And yet, nevertheless, she felt within her a desire to get back at Phoebe somehow; defeating her pawn would not affect her at all, save for the frustration of not getting her hands on Soteria, and that didn’t feel enough for Sunset. She wanted more. She wanted to make her… she wanted to warn Phoebe off.

But she doubted that Jaune would see it that way if she did anything.

Sunset sighed. It was hard work, maintaining the good opinion of good people.

It might prove to be even harder to maintain the good opinion of proud people.

Sunset got out her scroll. No, wait; there was a time differential, wasn’t there? Mistral was several hours ahead of Vale, which would make it a very uncivilised hour of the morning in Mistral. She would need to wait until her morning and Lady Nikos’ afternoon, to speak to her regarding… regarding the possible loss of the venerable black sword.

“Why don’t you speak to me instead of my mother?” Pyrrha asked as she stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight; it glimmered off her gilded armour.

Sunset rose to her feet, “Pyrrha,” she said quietly. “What are you doing out here?”

“I think that the answer to that is a little more obvious than the question of what you’re doing here, don’t you think?”

Sunset snorted. “I wanted some privacy.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said, her face falling. “Well, I can-”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that; I’m sorry,” Sunset said quickly. “Please, stay, and thank you.”

The slightest trace of a smile pricked at the corners of Pyrrha’s lips. She nodded, a barely perceptible gesture of her head, and took a step forward; her scarlet sash fluttered around her leg.

“Dressed for war,” Sunset observed, gesturing to her battle outfit. “Do you expect enemies to fall upon us here?”

“I hope not,” Pyrrha murmured, with more sincerity than Sunset’s remark strictly warranted. “I would hope that if there is a single place in the world that can be called truly safe, then this is it.”

“I think our world is not so grim that this is the only safe place in it, though, like you, I hope that it is among them,” Sunset replied. She sat down. “I wasn’t really expecting a serious answer.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Sunset asked.

“Well, for… I’m not sure,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I’m sure that there must be something. The truth is that I sometimes like wearing this, even when there is no battle to be fought. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Sunset replied quickly. “It’s just… less practical than an outfit like Ruby’s for casual wear.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “That’s true. But I’m not a particularly casual person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Sunset shrugged. “It has occurred to me, I must admit.” She paused. “I was out here-”

“Brooding?”

“Thinking,” Sunset insisted. “Also, as you guessed, I was going to call your mother before I remembered the time difference.”

“What were you going to tell her?” Pyrrha asked.

“The truth, that I may lose her sword,” Sunset said. She hesitated. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

“I… well…”

“Be honest.”

“Honestly, I hardly think that she’ll take it well,” Pyrrha said. “But then… you know her better than I do.”

“Don’t start with that again,” Sunset muttered. “You’ve known her your whole life; I’ve known her for a couple of weeks.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said with the slight trace of a sigh. “And yet…”

“Indeed, and yet,” Sunset said. “It’s funny: you envy me for your mother’s favour, and I envy you for the light that shines so bright upon you and casts the rest of us in shadow. If only we could live each other’s lives, we might be well-contented.”

Pyrrha blinked rapidly. “You… you envy me?” she asked. “Still?”

“Always, I fear, at least so long as you are Pyrrha Nikos,” Sunset confessed. “Do you not know that you are the girl who captured Roman Torchwick?”

Pyrrha tutted as she shook her head. “I did very little.”

“And yet that is not what the stories say.”

“Just stories-”

“Our lives are made of stories,” Sunset declared. “They are what remain of us when we are gone. It doesn’t matter whether Olivia was really the gallant knight of Vale or whether she was a fraud or whether she never lived at all, because Olivia exists not in the past but in that book in Ruby’s room, and her deeds are the deeds that are attributed to her. That is her truth, that is the truth. And so, it doesn’t matter who really captured Roman Torchwick, because it will be remembered that Pyrrha Nikos brought him in, and that will be the truth. And so it will be with all our deeds, which shall be your deeds, and we little more than… squires to attend upon you in your idle hours.”

“We will remember what you did,” Pyrrha argued. “And Ruby, and Jaune; those who were there will remember.”

“While we live,” Sunset replied. “As I said, stories are what remain of us when we are gone.”

“When we are gone, does it really matter?”

“Not to you, maybe, but I’m not risking my life out of altruism,” Sunset declared. “Or… something a little less unworthy.”

Pyrrha chuckled, covering her mouth with one brown-gloved hand. The laughter died, and she looked suddenly rather nervous. “Sunset, do you… is it very hard for you to pretend to-?”

“I’m not pretending anything!” Sunset cut her off with a firm exclamation. “I’m concealing a little, but that’s not the same thing. Are you pretending?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied, sounding almost outraged by the suggestion.

“Well, then,” Sunset said, “there you go. We both have things that are… best left unsaid, as a rule. It’s not like I dislike you, not like I did. I understand that you didn’t want this, I understand that you’ve earned it through your sweat, I understand…” She smiled. “I understand that there is so much in you that is good and noble, so much that is to be admired… or adored.” She smiled sadly. “And yet, I cannot but detest the shadow and envy you that command the light.” Her smile faltered into nervousness. “That… it’s not unbearable for you to know that, is it? I would hate, I mean I don’t want-”

“We can still be friends, if that’s what you mean,” Pyrrha said softly. “If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want,” Sunset said. “Is it what you want?”

Pyrrha said nothing but reached out and took one of Sunset’s hands in her own. “Perhaps, in our mutual envy, we might offer consolation to one another.”

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, maybe,” she said lightly. She glanced away for a moment, her eyes flickering up to the lights that glowed at the top of the tower. “If… if I lose your family heirloom, I apologise in advance.”

“Surely, you’re not contemplating defeat?” Pyrrha asked, in a tone more wry than Sunset would have expected from her.

She turned her attention back to her companion. “Listen to you. I’d be a fool if I didn’t at least contemplate the possibility of defeat.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Sunset?”

“Shut up!” Sunset cried. “I can admit that I’m not invincible. Especially in front of the actual Invincible Girl.”

Pyrrha groaned. “Please don’t.”

“I mean it,” Sunset declared. “I mean… it’s easy to admit that I’m less than perfect to you. I don’t intend to lose the sword, but I can’t deny the risk that I will.”

“It’s just a sword,” Pyrrha assured her. “I won’t think any the less of you if you lose one fight.”

“But your mother will?”

Pyrrha did not answer. That was about what Sunset was expecting.

“The very honour that your mother did to me,” she said, “by bestowing Soteria upon me, that very honour is the reason why I must fight. Lady Nikos’…” She hesitated, faltering, unsure of exactly how to describe herself in relation to Lady Nikos. “If I were too cowardly to accept Bolin’s challenge, I would prove unworthy of her faith. I would prove unworthy to stand as your-”

“I have no need of a bodyguard.”

“I was going to say 'companion in battle,'” Sunset declared heavily. “'Bodyguard'?” she chuckled. “I am no more your retainer than your mother’s, Lady Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha’s face flushed, the red of her cheeks visible in the moonlight. “I’m sorry.”

Sunset smiled. “Do you remember when you would not fight for me?” she asked. “You wouldn’t obey my orders. You sulked like your namesake in the Mistraliad.”

“Not quite,” Pyrrha corrected her. “That Pyrrha sulked in her tent. I fought; I simply didn’t fight according to your instructions.”

“Not that it stopped you winning,” Sunset muttered. “It made me feel rather superfluous. Do you remember what we were fighting about?”

“You… you had insulted me,” Pyrrha replied.

“I had dishonoured you, and you could not abide it,” Sunset corrected. “You could not bear the slight, not bear to follow a leader unworthy of your service. Just as I could not bear to simply hand over Soteria to one who is not worthy to possess it. My honour will not allow it.”

“Is it honour that we speak of now, or pride?” Pyrrha asked.

“Can one have honour without a little pride?” Sunset replied. “If we have no pride in ourselves, how can we understand what we deserve from the world, what is beneath us, what is a level to which we ought not stoop?”

“Perhaps we should not concern ourselves with such things,” Pyrrha suggested, “and simply endeavour to be kind.”

“Even the kind should have some pride in themselves, or they will be trampled underfoot by those who do possess some self-regard,” Sunset said. “In any case, I do not think I have it in me to be so humble. Nor do you, I think, although you come closer.”

Pyrrha was silent a while. “No,” she allowed. “Or else your slanders would not have bothered me as they did, when the year first began.” She hesitated, turning her face upwards to stare at the moon above them. “Have you finished the Mistraliad yet?”

“I have,” Sunset confirmed. “A little while ago.”

“What do you think of Pyrrha?” Pyrrha asked. “The one in the book, I mean; I haven’t started referring to myself in the third person.”

Sunset considered it for a moment. “She is… not altogether sympathetic,” she declared. “And, in truth, I don’t think she’s meant to be, or else the text would not be so impatient to remind us that, while Pyrrha broods in her tent, men and women are dying before the city walls as battle rages.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “In Mistral, we hold our pride, our honour, so sacred that it is acceptable to withdraw even from war if your lord and master does not treat you with the respect and courtesy which you are due, but on the other hand, to stand idly by in the face of battle, to turn away and refuse to fight when the enemy is at hand, that is utterly contemptible. We must fight, though we be outmatched, though it costs us our lives, as Juturna comes to realise before the end. The point is… I understand why you have to accept this challenge.”

“‘Always be the best, the bravest,’” Sunset recited, “and hold your head up high above all others.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “You would have made a very good Mistralian.”

Sunset chuckled. “I did enjoy your home.”

“You could always come back,” Pyrrha said. “Not just for a holiday, but after graduation. Mistral needs huntresses as much as Vale, or Atlas, or anywhere else. You could make a home there, and Ruby too, if she would; she could fight for humanity as easily in Mistral as anywhere else, and… we could be together a little longer. What we have, what you’ve all given me… I don’t want to lose it.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Live in Mistral? Well, why not? It wasn’t something that she’d particularly thought about, but now that she did think about it, she couldn’t think of any pressing objections. Where else was she going to live? Here in Vale? Back in Atlas? She had to settle somewhere, and Mistral was as good a place as any and better than most.

And Pyrrha was right; it would keep the team together.

That alone was enough to make it tempting, even beyond the delights of Mistral itself.

“I don’t want to lose this either,” she agreed. “And after all, Team Stark stuck it out after graduation, why not us? But all the same, maybe best not to mention it to Ruby just yet. A lot can happen in four years; it seems… a little premature to be making plans now.”

Pyrrha nodded. “You’re probably right,” she agreed. “I’m probably getting ahead of myself again.”

“You’ve already picked out a wedding dress, haven’t you?”

“No!” Pyrrha cried, her cheeks reddening yet further.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sunset assured her. She grinned. “It might be something to be embarrassed about, but not ashamed.”

“Please, stop,” Pyrrha begged amusedly. “It’s not… I’m not that bad, thank the sea and sky. Or at least… I mean, I feel that… in my heart, I-”

“You don’t have to explain your feelings to me,” Sunset said. “You love who you love, and that’s all there is to it. I just hope that he’s worthy of you.”

“I hope that I’m worthy of him,” Pyrrha insisted.

You really mean that, don’t you? The princess of Mistral, and you’re in awe of some Valish boy from the backwoods. Sunset shook her head. “Thank you,” she said. “For coming out here.”

Now it was Pyrrha’s turn to smile. “Even the great warriors of old were rarely alone on the eve of a great battle.”

“Although some were,” Sunset pointed out. “Like another namesake of yours, the Empress Pyrrha the Second.”

“A namesake and an ancestor,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“According to legend, at least,” Pyrrha said. “Our Mistralian ‘history’ begins with the founding of the city by Theseus, from whom I am, apparently, descended, but this is all long before written records, let alone accurate ones, so who can say for sure? But, by tale and by tradition, I am descended from Theseus and all of the Emperors and Empresses who followed in his line, including Polites, the only son of Paris to survive the Sack of Mistral and rebuild the city, and Pyrrha the Second.”

“But not your other namesake, the Pyrrha of the Mistraliad.”

“Um, her too,” Pyrrha confessed. “Through her great-great-great-grandaughter, Hermione, who married the Emperor Neoptolemus. But, again, this is all myth… but then, according to you, that doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Not particularly,” Sunset replied. “And in any event, one only has to watch you fight to see that the blood of heroes runs in your veins.”

Pyrrha ignored that and said, “I’m a little surprised that you know about Pyrrha the Second.”

“Twilight gave me a book which recorded the story,” Sunset explained. “It didn’t say what happened to her child; I assumed-”

“Fearing the worst, her father smuggled Princess Juno out of the city ahead of the Red Queen’s coming,” Pyrrha explained. “She was given over to a kindly shepherd and his wife to raise as their own until she was old enough to choose her own destiny. When she learned of her true parentage, she raised an army from amongst the country-folk and retook Mistral.”

“Then you know about the Red Queens?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha frowned slightly. “There was only one Red Queen.”

Sunset shook her head. “One bore that name, but there were others like her. I admit, I skimmed through some of it, but are there no more tales of Mistralian Emperors and Empresses being troubled by sorceresses or witches?”

“There are tales,” Pyrrha agreed. “And tales of wise women counselling them in earlier days, besides, but… you believe them, don’t you? Do you think that these tales… magic, like yours?”

“Not quite like mine, but magic,” Sunset agreed.

“Or myth,” Pyrrha countered.

“If magic is real, why should not tales be told of it?” Sunset countered. “Is it not as sensible to believe that the tales preserve some truth in them?”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “But… I hope not.”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to frown. “Why not?”

“Because… because… do you remember when we spoke on the rooftop, and you told me that amongst your people, it is believed that everyone is born blessed with one gift, a supreme talent amongst all others?”

Sunset nodded. “Not just our supreme talent, for we may be blessed with many skills, but the skill with which we choose to make the world around us a better place. Our gift to the world.”

“Our destiny,” Pyrrha replied. She hesitated. “My gift to the world is in these hands. It may be nothing more than the stirring of my blood, but I have been blessed to be made skilled with sword and spear and rifle. I am a warrior, and I hope I do not flatter myself unduly to say that I am a good one.”

“You’re better than good.”

“So I’m told,” Pyrrha said. “The pride and glory of Mistral reborn, the Invincible Girl, the evenstar of our people. The second coming of my namesake.” She gave a soft, slightly bitter laugh. “Which namesake would that be, the one who condemned herself to an early grave by her choices or the one who died alone, outmatched against a foe she could not hope to overcome?”

“You’re not alone,” Sunset reminded her. “You’ve got us.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “And I rejoice in it, but… my point is… I suppose this may sound as though I’m simply vain of my reputation after all, but… I could be as great as Pyrrha the Second, I could be as great as the Pyrrha of the Mistraliad, and all of it would come to nought if… if what you and Twilight assume is true… I barely bested you on stage, and in a real battle… what is my skill worth in a world of magic? If there are Red Queens in the world, then, or people like the Auburn that Ruby’s mother wrote of, would it not be as futile to attempt to match them as it was for my ancestor to ride out for Argolis? I suppose that I would rather live in a world where I have something to contribute.”

“Understandable,” Sunset whispered. She had not considered that before now, and upon considering it… well, she was inclined to agree with Pyrrha. Not in the sense that she no longer believed that magic was real, but in that it might be better if it were not. The powers that Summer had spoken of, the powers of the prophets and the queens… it was hard to measure powers that she really possessed against powers that she was only reading about, but it was hard for Sunset not to fear that she might find herself overmatched if she found herself facing one of Ozpin’s mages.

Her own unicorn magic presently put her in the top tier of students, even across all four academies, but if one factored in the powers of these Remnant alicorns, then she, Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, Blake, Weiss, Yang, all of them who sat in the highest tier of fighting students would all be cast down. Rendered second-rate at best.

It was a thought that she had not considered before, and it was not a particularly pleasant one.

It was enough to almost make her dismiss the whole idea, but within her head, she found that she could not. There was too much evidence to be so lightly cast aside.

Not that she would have to worry about that if she failed to win this duel. Defeat at the hands of Bolin Hori would hurl into the second tier long before any magical powers revealed themselves.

Then I will just have to make sure that I don’t lose, won’t I?

“Maybe you’re right,” Sunset conceded falsely, more to put Pyrrha at ease than anything else. “There’s probably no connection between what Twilight saw, what Summer Rose wrote of, and those old tales. And if there are… these powers have not been seen for years; why should they trouble us now?”

“Not when we have troubles more immediate by far,” Pyrrha agreed.

“Are you talking about the White Fang or Bolin?”

“Either?” Pyrrha said. “You should come back to the dorm room, get some rest before your duel tomorrow.”

“Not quite yet,” Sunset said. “There’s something that I need to do first.”

“What?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. Did she want to tell Pyrrha the truth? Did she want to tell her about the journal? Did she want to tell Pyrrha what she was?

No, to that last question, but as to the others… how much did she trust her?

I trust her with my life. Just not all of my secrets.

But... perhaps I can trust her with some of them.

“This book,” Sunset said, levitating out of her satchel, “it is a… I suppose you might call it a magic book. Well, it is a magic book; I can use it to talk to… to the person who replaced me back home.”

Pyrrha stared at Sunset, her green eyes widening a little. “Your… replacement?”

“The one who fulfilled the destiny that I was unworthy of,” Sunset explained, albeit vaguely. “We get on surprisingly well.”

“Through a book?”

“A magic book, yes.”

“My goodness,” Pyrrha whispered. She glanced down at the journal in Sunset’s hands. “That’s the book that you-”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it; I was terrified that you would find out… well, the truth.”

Pyrrha did not say anything for some time. She simply stared, a little at the book and a little at Sunset. “I… I can hardly believe it,” she whispered. “May… may I… see how it works?”

“I… would rather you didn’t,” Sunset admitted. “It’s all… a little personal.”

I’m not ready for you to find out I’m not human yet.

“Oh, well, yes, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “I wouldn’t want to pry. I will leave you to it.” She stood up. “But you will be up to the dorm room soon?”

Sunset smiled slightly. “I promise.”

“Good,” Pyrrha said. “You’ll need it. Goodnight, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset nodded. “Goodnight, Pyrrha Nikos.”

She watched her go, ponytail and sash alike swaying behind her as she walked, moonlight reflecting off those parts of her armour yet visible from behind.

She watched her go, and only once she was gone did Sunset turn her attention to the journal itself, opening up a page with blank space on it and beginning to write.

Twilight, are you there? Is it a good time?

She waited, but it was not Twilight’s writing that ran across the page in response, but a hoof – or spell – in an old-fashioned and elegant cursive.

Good evening, Sunset. I’m afraid that now may not be the best time for you to speak with Twilight, but hopefully, I can offer you some counsel instead.

Sunset stared down at the page. She hesitated. The pen in her hand trembled just a little. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak to Princess Celestia; it was just that… it was just that she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be as honest with Princess Celestia as she could have been with Twilight.

Twilight’s opinion didn’t matter to her as much as Princess Celestia’s did.

But on the other hoof, it’s not as though Twilight couldn’t have told Princess Celestia some of this stuff anyway.

Of course, Princess, I’m delighted to hear from you. It’s been far too long. But what are you doing with the journal again? Is Twilight in Canterlot?

No, we are all in the Crystal Empire for a summit with the Duke and Duchess of Maretonia; we are hoping to persuade them to enter into a trade agreement with us.

All? You and Twilight and Cadance too?

And Luna also.

Of course. Does it require all four princesses to negotiate with the duke and duchess of a little land to the west?

Maretonia may be small compared to Equestria, but it is a proud land; we honour them with the presence of all four princesses as a sign of respect. Although to know the fact brings Twilight little comfort.

She is ill at ease?

She feels ill-used, or little used, at least; she has become a princess, and yet, I fear it has not changed her life in the way that she imagined it would.

From what I understand, she doesn’t have a life in need of changing.

And Twilight is not dissatisfied with her friends or with Ponyville, but I am afraid that she is beginning to wonder why she was granted wings and crown when she has yet had no opportunity to accomplish aught with them that she could not have done as a unicorn.

Sunset couldn’t help but smile a little. Does it frustrate you that all your students are cursed to suffer impatience? Not that I mean to compare my flaw with Twilight’s.

I take your meaning well, Sunset; I hope you do not take it amiss when I say that I am a little more sympathetic to Twilight’s frustrations than your own.

Sunset chuckled. That’s quite alright, Princess. From what you’ve said, Twilight’s frustrations are more sympathetic than mine. She has ascended – and done so very young, at that – accomplished a feat worthy of honour and acclaim, and now she must ask herself ‘now what?’ It is a question that too few stories take up: what do we dream once all our dreams have come true?

Indeed. It is all very well to close off with ‘and they all lived happily ever after,’ but 'ever after' must still be lived, and take it from me, that 'ever' can be a long time.

Can Cadance give her no counsel? She ascended, and her destiny had not yet revealed itself by the time that I departed from Equestria; she must understand what it’s like to rise so high and then find that there is nothing to do once you have risen.

We have all attempted to encourage Twilight, to remind her, as you say, that destiny may take its time slouching towards you, but it will arrive at the appointed time nonetheless. I am not sure how much good it did, but I will broach the subject with Cadance and see what Twilight’s sister-in-law may do.

I’m just not sure that you can understand what it’s like in the same way that Cadance can, or even I can. You fulfilled your destiny so soon, and all your life since has been spent in ruling the realm. You don’t know what it’s like to wait and fret and wonder when the promise of your life will be fulfilled.

If I made it seem like I was promising you something, I do apologise. It was not my intent to make everything seem so certain, so set in stone.

I’m not saying this to blame you, Princess Celestia; I’m just pointing out that, for me, it felt like everything up until my ascension – or at least up until the great task that I would accomplish to attain my ascension – was but a prologue, that my whole life up until that point would prove to be mere preparation for this trial. A trial that did not come. The prologue dragged on and on, filled with an ever-increasing array of forgettable minor characters whose stories were already moving while mine stood still. I felt trapped in amber, imprisoned in a cocoon from which I could not break free. I do not say that it is exactly the same with Twilight – she has fulfilled one destiny already – but it wouldn’t surprise me if she feels much the same way.

There was a pause, before Celestia responded. You have grown very wise in your exile, little Sunbeam.

Sunset could not help but laugh. That is very kind of you, Princess, too kind by far. I may be able to appear wise when addressing the concerns of others, but in my own life, I am as headstrong and heedless as I ever was, as any of my friends could tell you.

I would dearly love to speak to some of these good friends of yours.

Sunset winced. And they you, but I fear that I am not quite ready for that yet.

I will not say I understand, but since I do not understand, I will not question your reasons. Have you any words that I may take to Twilight on your behalf? You may be able to give her as good counsel as Cadance.

My friend Pyrrha believes that we choose our own destiny; she calls it a goal that she has set herself. I know that Twilight did not choose her first destiny, but perhaps if she were to choose the second instead of waiting for it to find her, it might ease her sense of idleness.

You say that you are not wise, and yet, you have such excellent notions.

I am not sure that I would call it excellent; Pyrrha’s idea of destiny is very similar to the notion of cutie marks: that our choices are as important as our abilities. Though I fear that the destiny Pyrrha has chosen is so remote that she is likely to die with it unfulfilled, though she lives for a hundred years or more.

Pyrrha is the one who wishes to save the world, is she not?

She is. A lofty task, even for so peerless a warrior as she.

And yet, in trying, she is likely to leave the world a far better place than she found it, and that is no dishonourable legacy.

Now it is you who speaks most wisely, Princess.

And what of you, Sunset? What did you wish to speak of? Have you chosen your destiny in this world of Remnant?

I fear not yet, for I am consumed with misgivings, pestered by troubles, and fear that I very nearly lost myself.

Lost yourself? How so?

Sunset hesitated. A part of her very, very much did not wish to disclose this to Princess Celestia. And yet, a part of her felt that she must confess it to someone, and she did not dare speak of it to Ruby or Pyrrha. I have been cruel and vengeful.

Sunset found that she could see in her mind’s eye the disappointment on Princess Celestia’s face as she wrote back. To whom? Ruby? Pyrrha?

No. To neither of them, nor Jaune or Blake either. To none of my friends. To some of my fellow classmates, Cardin Winchester and Bon Bon; they hurt my friend Blake, taunted her with the past that she wishes to escape, and so I hurt them in turn.

I see. Did Blake ask you to do this?

Blake would never do such a thing; in fact she was rather angry with me when she found out. I did this all on my own, for all that it was done on her behalf.

Why, then?

Because Blake deserves better than their insults, and I wanted them to stop.

I would tell you the ways in which you are wrong, Sunset, but I think you would not be telling me this unless you knew already.

You’re right, I do know. At least I do now. Jaune made me see. He wasn’t right about everything – he blames Cinder, another of my friends, although she had nothing to do with this – but he was right that I was more my old self than either of us would like. It worries me, Princess; I thought that my friends had made me a better person, but how can that be when I can so easily slide back into who I was before?

Who you were before, I’m sorry to say, would not have so quickly realised that she was doing wrong, Sunbeam, and that is a thought to take comfort in, if nothing else.

I hope you’re right, Princess Celestia. I very much hope that you’re right.

To care for your friends is right and good, but they are not yours that you must punish the things that are done to them.

I know, or at least I will try and remember it.

Do not despair from a single setback. You have already come such a long way; that you have faltered on the road only shows that you are as flawed as anypony is, even myself, or even Twilight Sparkle. So long as you understand why you faltered, then it will help you to avoid failing again.

My fault is my pride, and the difficulty is that I do not entirely wish to be rid of it, for all the trouble that it causes me.

Sunset, from what you have said, the trouble you have caused yourself is as very little compared to the trouble you have caused for others.

It was a gentle rebuke, but it was a rebuke nevertheless, and it stopped Sunset in her tracks. She… she had not considered that before, and that lack of consideration compounded the selfishness in her initial action. It was all very well to feel guilty about what she had done, but she had not done anything about it. She hadn’t done anything to make amends; she hadn’t even apologised.

Apologising would be difficult, not just because of her pride but because it would involve an admission of guilt, but she could make it up to Cardin somehow. She could help him get back together with Skystar, maybe. She could make right what she had broken.

She no longer wanted to tell Princess Celestia about her duel or her suspicions about Professor Ozpin; it would seem like more selfishness on her part, more distractions from the wrong that she had done.

That was not how she wished to be seen.

You chide me well, Princess; I will do better. I will fix what I have damaged, if I can.

I’m not sure how just yet, but I can give it a try.

I’m glad to hear it.

Sunset smiled with one corner of her mouth. It was good that I spoke to you, in the end, Princess Celestia. Twilight can’t make me feel ashamed of myself the same way that you can.

I am also glad to hear that my words are still useful to you, Sunset.

Your words will always be invaluable to me. But now I have to go. It is getting late, and I need to think about how I can make it up to Cardin. Goodnight, Princess, and tell Twilight I wish her good fortune and great glory.

Goodnight and good luck, Sunset Shimmer.

A Matter of Pride, Part Two (New)

A Matter of Pride, Part Two

Sunset sat on her bed, with everyone else having departed for breakfast.

Today was the day. Today she battled for her honour and the honour of the House of Nikos.

A part of her didn’t really know why she was so worried about this; she had fought the White Fang, she had helped capture Roman Torchwick, she had come face to face with Adam Taurus, the Sword of the Faunus, and survived having his blade through her gut. Why should some Haven punk hold any terrors for her?

He didn’t. He held fears for her; there was an important distinction.

He held fears for her because there would be consequences if she lost this fight. Yes, nobody was going to die, but all the same, there would be consequences. There would be consequences because Soteria, her sword, the sword that had been given to her, would fall into the hands of one of Pyrrha’s rivals, and the most unworthy rival at that.

Speaking of unworthiness, Sunset would prove herself unworthy of Lady Nikos’ trust. That was her fear. That was why she feared Bolin Hori: because he would make a fool of a great lady, and the foolishness would be that she had believed in Sunset Shimmer.

There had been too much of that already. She had made a fool of Princess Celestia’s faith in her through her malice; she would not do the same to Lady Nikos through her incompetence.

She hoped not, anyway.

Sunset had not gone down to breakfast with the others because it was now morning, which meant that it was noon or early afternoon in Mistral, and it was time for her to call Lady Nikos.

The scroll trembled in her hands a little bit. Not only because she would have to admit the possibility that she might lose Soteria, but also because… because, as much as she hated to admit it, the words of Phoebe Kommenos had struck home with her a little bit.

What had Lady Nikos said about her? How was she representing their arrangement? What was it that was allowing Phoebe to think of Sunset as Lady Nikos’ hireling, her paid creature?

She was not Pyrrha’s bodyguard. She was not a retainer of the House of Nikos; Sunset had made that fact perfectly clear. So where was it coming from?

What was Lady Nikos saying?

Sunset would have to ask her.

The answers weren’t going to find themselves, after all.

Sunset got up off her bed. She was calling upon a lady, after all; the least that she could do was stand up straight.

She held the scroll up, before her face, so that she didn’t have to look down; she would maintain proper posture for this.

The name of Lady Nikos was white; a green button glowed slightly underneath.

Sunset hit the button.

A line of dots ran briefly across the transparent screen of the scroll; the dial tone sounded as her device sought for a connection, and then the face of Lady Nikos appeared before her, sitting – judging by the background – in her study, where she had interviewed Sunset shortly after her arrival.

“Miss Shimmer,” she said. “Good morning to you.”

“Good afternoon, my lady,” Sunset replied. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“You are giving me an excuse to take a break from the accounts; that is not a thing to be sneered at,” Lady Nikos replied calmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I fear that you will find little pleasure in what I have to say once I have said it, my lady.”

Lady Nikos’ eyes narrowed. “Is something amiss, Miss Shimmer? Is Pyrrha-?”

“Safe and sound and happy, my lady,” Sunset assured her. “I regret that I am yet unable to persuade her to tell you so herself, but rest assured that my news does not touch upon her life or health, her happiness or her honour. All are intact and, in the case of happiness, blossoming here… with Mister Arc.”

Lady Nikos harrumphed. “Mister Arc,” she muttered. She looked away. “What is his parentage?”

“I fear, my lady, that I know not, save that he comes from a huntsman.”

“That is not enough,” Lady Nikos declared, “I must know more before I can,” – her lips twisted in distemper – “before I can bear to accommodate myself to their relationship.”

“My lady, I think that if you do not accommodate yourself to it, then you will lose your daughter,” Sunset informed her bluntly. “Pyrrha… Pyrrha is resolved to pursue her own happiness, without reference to you or any other person wholly unconnected with her. She will have Jaune though all of Mistral frown upon it.”

“Nevertheless, I charge you to find out more about him, where he comes and from what stock,” Lady Nikos commanded.

Sunset felt her brow furrow just a little. “You charge me, my lady?”

“Does my choice of words offend you, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset pursed her lips together. Now they were come to it, or close enough. “My lady,” she said, “I think that we come to the true subject on which I called you. Today, I fight a duel, for possession of the sword Soteria which you bestowed on me in-”

“I am aware of Soteria and when I gave it to you,” Lady Nikos said sharply. Her words grew claws as she said, “I very much hope, Miss Shimmer, that you have not wagered an heirloom of my line upon the outcome of a fight.”

“The challenge was offered to me, my lady,” Sunset replied, her own words a little sharp, if not so much as those that were offered to her. “And offered specifically for the sword.”

“Who gave you this challenge?”

“Bolin Hori.”

“Who?”

“Indeed, my lady,” Sunset murmured. “A student of Haven Academy, here for the Vytal Festival; he is a member of Team Auburn, under Arslan Altan.”

“Arslan Altan!” Lady Nikos exclaimed. “I fear you must explain further, Miss Shimmer; I have never heard of this Bolin Hori nor know of any reason he should have claim upon Soteria, and if Miss Altan wished it, I hope she would have the courage to challenge you herself.”

“Miss Altan gave me warning of the challenge before it reached me,” Sunset replied. “In this matter, Bolin Hori serves another of Pyrrha’s rivals: Phoebe Kommenos.”

Lady Nikos sighed. “Of course,” she growled. “Phoebe Kommenos, who else would do such a thing? She lacks the courage to challenge you herself, so she suborns this Mister Hori into her service.”

“I have heard she is paying him, my lady.”

“Disgraceful,” Lady Nikos muttered. “Is she a Kommenos or a Schnee?”

“I think that you do at least one Schnee a wrong to ask such a question, my lady.”

“I do not much care if I malign twenty Schnees,” Lady Nikos declared. “I would say that Atlas has been the ruin of Phoebe Kommenos, but she was never… it matters not. I did not think that she would be so bold.”

“It was not her first choice, my lady,” Sunset said. “Earlier this week, she sought to buy the sword from me.” She hesitated, because now they were come to the crux, or one of the cruces, at any rate. “My Lady, I am afraid that I must ask you… what have you said of me?”

“What has Phoebe Kommenos told you that I have said of you?”

Sunset hesitated.

“Out with it, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos demanded. “If I am to be accused, let me at least know what I am said to have done.”

“I am told that I am an accusing anecdote at parties, my lady,” Sunset said softly.

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “The fact that Phoebe has gone to these lengths to obtain Soteria shows that it is reasonably widely known that you have it,” she said. “Have any other Mistralian students given you trouble because of it?”

“No, my lady, but I am told that it is the cause of some resentment towards me… and towards Pyrrha.”

“Pyrrha?” Lady Nikos asked. “How so?”

Sunset scowled. “They call her… between going to Beacon and dating Jaune, there are some who feel that she has forsaken Mistral. They call her traitor.”

“And yet she still holds fast to Mister Arc?” Lady Nikos asked, sounding a little surprised to hear it.

“As I told my lady, it will take more than disapproval to make her break with her heart in this,” Sunset said.

“Indeed you did,” Lady Nikos agreed. “And yet…” It seemed to Sunset that, in spite of everything, Lady Nikos almost smiled. “I am impressed. I did not think she had such courage.”

“Pyrrha is the bravest person I know,” Sunset said; Ruby, who might have contested for the position, was in Sunset’s view too heedless to be brave. You couldn’t be brave if you didn’t seem to care one way or another if you lived or died, and Ruby’s protestations to the contrary were not entirely convincing – or Sunset did not find them so.

“I am glad to hear it, but that is courage on the battlefield,” Lady Nikos explained. “Since coming to Beacon, she has shown more and more other kinds of courage. Courage I had not suspected in her. Forgive me, Miss Shimmer, say on.”

“There is not much more to say, my lady,” Sunset said, her voice taking on a hurt quality. “Save that I am a fool who has mistaken… who has mistaken a mere business transaction for acceptance.”

Lady Nikos’ green eyes softened, and in the softening, they reminded Sunset much more of her daughter than they had before. She took a little time to, Sunset supposed, gather her thoughts before she spoke in reply, “It is true that I described my gifts of lien and of Soteria to you as an investment,” she allowed, “but it is also true that I have not been invited to one of Lady Ming’s soirees since I rebuked her for mocking you in my presence.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened just a little more than was warranted, and for a moment more. One of her own? A lady of her own class? She has been cut - or snubbed, at the very least - and for my sake? She did not know this Lady Ming, but Canterlot – old Canterlot – had taught her well enough to know what it meant to be pointedly removed from the invitation list, an unperson amongst the beau monde of the elite and the influential. If what Lady Nikos said was true, then she had suffered much more than her words might suggest. And all for my sake? “You… you defended me, my lady?”

“What the young Lady Kommenos says is, regrettably, the common opinion,” Lady Nikos informed her, her tone brisk as if she wished to move rapidly on before Sunset’s gratitude could prove embarrassing. Certainly, there was neither sorrow nor melancholy in her expression, as if she valued not what she had lost – or wished to cultivate the impression in Sunset. “Perhaps I should have told you of this; certainly, I should have foreseen it; in Mistral, the business of one great family is the business of all great families, entangled as we are in webs of shared history and – oftentimes – shared genealogy also. Has Pyrrha explained to you the Kommenos claim upon Soteria?”

“She has, my lady,” Sunset declared. “It seems to me that a claim of blood opposes a claim of honour.”

“Very elegantly put, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “Clearly, the sword was recognised at Beacon, and from there, word returned to Mistral. I hope it does not offend you that I have been honest about our arrangement.”

“It is not my place to forbid my lady to speak.”

“Good, for I have spoken of it,” Lady Nikos continued. “There are some who have seen it in a most mercenary way; there are some who have made sport of you, as they believe that I have made sport of you; but if there was any doubt in your mind, Miss Shimmer, let me be quite clear: I have chosen to sponsor you because I believe that you are a young huntress of the greatest promise, worthy to stand as battle companion alongside Pyrrha Nikos, the pride of Mistral. And I gave you Soteria because…” She trailed off, glancing down at her desk, seeming lost for words.

And yet, Sunset felt as though she understood her. “Because the road that Pyrrha has chosen is a long and dangerous one,” she said, “and you fear that she may have need of an Achates along the way.”

“An Achates?” Lady Nikos repeated. “No, Miss Shimmer, you are more than a bodyguard. A Camilla, perhaps.”

Sunset made a noise that was almost a chuckle. “I would say that my lady did me great honour, save that Camilla died.”

“Camilla did not have Soteria,” Lady Nikos pointed out. “I give you the sword so that you may live… and so may Pyrrha.”

Now, Sunset did chuckle. “Pyrrha… I must confess to you, my lady, that Pyrrha fears you care more for me than for your child. I wager she would not think so if she heard us speaking now.”

“Pyrrha is my heir,” Lady Nikos said. “My blood, and that of my late husband. The latest flowering of the line of Nikos and its greatest bloom in many a generation. However many of her choices I may disagree with, and however vehemently I disagree with some of them, she will always command first place in my affections, though the rest of Mistral should forsake her.”

“If it helps, my lady, I think she is still loved by all save a few foolish malcontents,” Sunset assured her. She paused. “My lady… my lady, if… it was never my intent… I do not wish to cause undue trouble for you; if it will help you, I will return Soteria to Mistral-”

“No, Miss Shimmer, you will not,” Lady Nikos said. “I chose to bestow that sword upon you, and I will not be bullied into changing my mind by the disapproval of Lady Ming and those like her. The sword is yours, and so it shall remain… I hope.”

“I hope so too, my lady,” Sunset said, her voice suddenly a little hoarse at the declaration of faith that she had just received, a declaration that made her fears, sprung as they were out of nought by Phoebe’s words, seem childishly groundless. “I think that I owe my lady more than two apologies, once for misjudging your intent and once for putting Soteria at risk.”

“You apologise for that?” Lady Nikos asked. “What else could you have done?”

“Pyrrha suggested that I might refuse the challenge, there being no grounds for quarrel between me and Bolin.”

“But you and I both know that was not an option, don’t we, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset smiled briefly. “I think that Pyrrha knows it too, my lady; she told me herself that she would not turn away from a fight, that no hero born of Mistral could. I am not born of Mistral, I know, but-”

“But I would not have bothered with you if I did not see something Mistralian in your soul,” Lady Nikos informed her. “You have a sense of honour, a pride in yourself, that is reminiscent of the elder kingdom. I do not seek to flatter you when I tell you that you belong here in the east.”

“And yet I am flattered nonetheless, my lady,” Sunset told her.

“Why be flattered by the truth?” Lady Nikos asked. “You were challenged, and you knew, in spite of having every incentive to refuse it, that your only true choice was to accept and face the consequences.”

“You seem remarkably sanguine about those consequences, my lady.”

“That is because I expect you to win, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos declared. “Is this Mister Hori so skilled that you fear him?”

“He… has a great deal of aura, my lady, and I am not yet a master of the blade.”

“Yet you have an exceedingly powerful semblance; counts that for nothing?”

“It would count for a great deal, my lady, but I feel I ought to battle with the sword.”

“Pride is admirable, Miss Shimmer, but do not let it destroy you as it has so many heroes of our Mistralian past,” Lady Nikos urged. “In battle, one ought to use every weapon at your disposal.”

“If I do not trust the sword, do I not prove myself unworthy of it?”

“And yet you will have the sword still,” Lady Nikos said.

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. “I am not sure, my lady.” She paused. “My lady, if… if I should-”

“You will not lose, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said peremptorily, as though that was the end of it. “I have faith in you.”

Sunset felt her chin rise a little higher. “Then I shall not let you down, my lady.”

Lady Nikos nodded. “Good day, Miss Shimmer,” she said. “And good luck.”

“Thank you, my lady, and good day to you.” Sunset replied.

“And uncover Mister Arc’s degree!” Lady Nikos reminded her.

“I shall, my lady, with all convenient haste,” Sunset vowed, before she hung up the call.

Well, she could not lose now, that was certain. She could hardly have lost before, but now, she definitely could not lose.

And yet… and yet she didn’t yet know how. Pyrrha, Lady Nikos, everyone told her that using the sword was a bad idea, and it was undeniable that she was better with her magic than with the…

Now hang on.

A smile began to spread across Sunset’s face as she started to have an idea.

Professor Goodwitch had not been so kind as to volunteer to give up her free time to referee another of Sunset’s duels; instead, it was Doctor Oobleck who had been kind enough to take the duty on. He stood in front of the stage, sipping out of a mug which he held in one hand – a vacuum flask was in the other, presumably for when the mug was drained – watching from out of his opaque spectacles.

He said nothing as Sunset strode out of the locker room and onto the stage.

She had her weapons with her this time, not only Soteria but Sol Invictus as well; the sword was in her hand and the rifle was slung across her shoulder.

She glanced past Doctor Oobleck to the students watching on the bleachers; it was a smaller crowd than last time. Apparently, Sunset Shimmer versus Bolin Hori just didn’t command the same levels of interest as Sunset Shimmer versus Pyrrha Nikos; Sunset chose to interpret that as saying more about Bolin than it did about her.

Still, the amphitheatre was not completely empty: her teammates were there, sitting on one of the benches closest to the stage, close enough that Sunset could make them out even though the lights were dim and would soon get dimmer still; Blake was sitting next to Pyrrha, although she was the only member of Team YRBN to have shown up; Twilight and Rainbow Dash represented Team RSPT, while Cardin flew the flag for Team WWSR.

Flash wasn’t there. That… hurt, just a little bit, even though there was no rational reason why he should be here. But it still hurt that Cardin had shown up while Flash had not.

Of course, Cardin was probably there just in the hope of seeing her get her butt kicked.

Like I’d give him the satisfaction.

Sunset frowned at that thought; she was supposed to be making amends with Cardin, not continuing to hold a grudge against him; maybe he’d feel differently about her once she helped him get his girlfriend.

I’ll need to come up with a plan for that once this fight is over.

Cinder was there, sitting near the back, a slight smirk upon her face, her eyes smouldering. They hadn’t spoken since Jaune had accused Cinder of being behind Sunset’s recent moral tremble; Sunset would apologise on his behalf if he’d said anything to her.

Bolin hadn’t yet walked onto the stage, but his teammates were there, although Arslan looked less than enthusiastic about it and sat with a distance between herself and the other two. Sun was there too, sat behind Blake, and there were various other Haven and Atlas students that Sunset didn’t recognise.

And there was Phoebe Kommenos, also sat near the back at the other side of the room from Cinder, a scowl upon her face as she waited for the dance to start.

There was even more blonde visible at the roots of her hair now; she must have decided to stop dyeing and go back to her natural colour.

A mistake, in Sunset’s opinion; going back to blonde just made her look like even more of a spoiled little princess.

Sunset caught her eye and smirked at her. Phoebe’s scowl deepened.

A cheer from some of the Haven students – led by the non-Arslan members of Team ARBN – drew Sunset’s attention back to the stage as Bolin Hori emerged, twirling his staff in one hand. He leapt nimbly up onto the stage but didn’t acknowledge his supporters down below. Despite the confidence of his posture, Sunset thought that she detected wariness in his face.

Or perhaps she simply hoped to see it there, to show her that she was respected as an opponent.

“Go Sunset!” Ruby cried out, to counteract some of the cheering from the Haven side.

Sunset turned and offered her a bow by way of thanks.

Doctor Oobleck took a sip of his coffee. “Miss Shimmer, Mister Hori, are you both ready?”

Bolin slammed the butt of his staff upon the floor of the stage. “I’m ready, Professor.”

“Doctor, if you please, Mister Hori,” Doctor Oobleck reproached him. “Miss Shimmer?”

“One moment, Doctor, if you please,” Sunset said, as she knelt down and placed Sol Invictus and Soteria upon the floor of the stage. With her arms thus free, she shrugged off her leather jacket and dropped it down by her feet so that she stood in her T-shirt and cuirass, with her arms bare save for the lightning-dust infused vambraces upon her forearms.

It was at a time like this that she wished that she had a little more meat on her bones; if she had arms like Pyrrha, then it would have looked impressive; as it was, she just looked a little scrawny, especially by comparison with the absolute beefcake standing in front of her. Nevertheless, she slung Sol Invictus across her shoulder once again and picked up Soteria. She settled into a high guard, the black sword raised above her head.

Her tail twitched behind her. Bolin’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m ready now, Doctor.”

“Thank you, Miss Shimmer,” Doctor Oobleck said. He took another sip. “Begin!”

Bolin hesitated for a moment, waiting, watching; watching to see what Sunset meant to do, she thought. He evidently suspected that she hadn’t taken her jacket off because she was too warm.

“You don’t deserve that sword,” he spat at her. “That sword belongs to Mistral!”

Whether he actually believed it or he was just trying to rile her up, Sunset didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. She just smiled at him and, with a pulse of her aura, ignited the fire dust she had infused into the blade; the flames of crimson and yellow, like her hair, rippled up the metal, consuming the black until it could no longer be seen.

“Then come and get it,” she purred.

Again, Bolin hesitated for a moment; yet by now, there were those in the stands who were calling for him to get on with it, to kick Sunset’s ass, to show her who was boss. He had challenged Sunset, not the other way around; he had sought out this fight, he had taken money to fight this fight; having done so, he couldn’t just stand around and do nothing because he was uncertain about what Sunset was up to.

And so he charged, his staff gripped tightly in both hands and held before him.

Sunset didn’t move, except to let go of Soteria with her hands.

And seize it with her telekinesis.

The ebon hilt was surrounded by the green glow of her magic as the blade shot forwards, moved by Sunset’s mind, directed her will, flying like an arrow straight as Bolin.

He faltered in his rush, his eyes widening in surprise. As the sword thrust straight and true towards him, he lashed out with his staff, knocking the weapon aside. Sunset redirected it, the point of the burning weapon swinging in the air as she lunged the sword towards him again. Bolin turned, and once more, he deflected Soteria away with his staff, only for it to come again, driven by Sunset’s telekinesis as she lashed out with the sword at him from every angle, pinning him in place, forcing him to stand and turn, always turning, shuffling left to right and behind him as Sunset drove Soteria at him from every angle, and though he was always able to guard against it – Sunset’s telekinesis wasn’t fast enough to catch him out, unfortunately – she was able to hold him steady while being in absolutely no danger whatsoever.

And this was only the first part of her plan.

While Bolin was preoccupied by fending off Soteria, Sunset – still hammering him with the sword from every angle, still making sure he had no room to focus on anything but the sword that was aiming for him as though it had a mind of its own – knelt down and placed one hand – that hand was not wreathed in the glow of magic – upon her jacket where it lay on the ground.

A slight pulse of aura, a pulse a little larger than she strictly needed to hide the fact that her aura hadn’t been dropping at all otherwise, and the fire dust infused within the fabric began to burn like an inferno. Sunset rose to her feet, and now, her other hand began to glow as well as she magically picked the jacket up off the floor and made it hover in the air beside her.

Using telekinesis on multiple objects at one was a little trickier, but there was room in Sunset’s head for more than one thought at a time, and so it was not too hard to keep Bolin distracted by the antics of Soteria while, at the same time, moving her burning jacket towards him.

All she had to do was keep the sword attacking him from other angles so that he had his back to her and did not see his doom approaching.

Almost there… almost there…

“Bolin!” cried out one of his teammates, Sunset thought her name was Reese, “look out!”

Bolin turned, too late, his staff out of position to defend him as Sunset shoved the burning jacket forward and into his face. Bolin cried out in alarm as the flames began to consume his aura, devouring it like famished wild beasts; yes, he had a lot of aura, but that didn’t mean that it was a pleasant experience to lose it to the flames that were pressed against his skin, against his face, his eyes, his mouth.

Sunset didn’t want to suffocate him, so she pulled the jacket up above his mouth and nostrils, even as she wrapped it tight, like an oversized bandana, around his head, burning sleeves dropping down his neck and back. Bolin flailed wildly, pawing and clawing at the jacket as the flames burned him.

And, more importantly, as it blinded him.

And while he was blinded, while he was flailing around trying to pull the burning blindfold off his head, while he was helpless, Sunset struck with Soteria.

And this time, there was no staff to knock the flaming sword aside.

She slashed at him. She thrust at him. She sliced at his aura like a chef slicing up the pie for dinner, and while he was helpless, she whittled his aura down.

But slowly. So slowly.

Which was why it was a good thing that she didn’t plan on taking him down into the red.

Bolin should have asked himself why Sunset hadn’t cut his legs out from under him. It would have been so simple to do, after all: just sweep his legs; it wasn’t as though there was anything that he could have done to prevent it. She could have cut his legs out from under him and dumped him on the ground, blind, and there cut his aura apart at her leisure.

But he had too much aura for that. Too much aura for Sunset to be certain that she would be able to get him into the red before he pulled the blindfold off, as he was close to doing now. Instead, she attacked him only from certain directions, prodding him, making him shy away from her blows. Blind and disoriented as he was, he never wondered just where she was leading him.

Some of them saw it; some of the other students watching the fight saw what Sunset was doing and tried to warn him about it, but their shouts were confused, and Bolin would have had to be a master of blind mare’s buff to understand what they were trying to get across to him with their cries.

Bolin’s aura was still in the yellow when he tore Sunset’s jacket off – the fire had gone out; it was barely smouldering now – with a triumphant cry that died in his throat as he realised that he was perched upon the very edge of the stage.

With one last thrust of Soteria, Sunset pushed him off. He toppled and fell to the floor beneath with a thump.

Doctor Oobleck drained his cup of coffee. “Mister Hori, you have left the ring,” he observed. “That means that you forfeit the match, and Miss Shimmer is the winner! Congratulations, Miss Shimmer!”

“Yeah!” Ruby cried as Pyrrha began to applaud. Jaune smiled appreciatively.

Sunset allowed herself a smirk of self-satisfaction as she walked across the stage and picked up her jacket. She didn’t offer Bolin her hand or bow to him; he had taken money to try and steal something that had been given to her; as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t worth her courtesies.

She caught sight of Cinder at the back of the auditorium, shaking her head as a fond smile played upon her face.

Pyrrha got up, and leapt up onto the stage to join her. “What happened to fighting with the sword?” she asked, amusement in her voice.

“I did,” Sunset replied. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You played to your strengths,” Pyrrha said. “Well done.”

“Honour is all very well,” Sunset said, “but I couldn’t disappoint your mother.” She hesitated. “I think she’s coming around to Jaune.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“She wants me to find out his degree,” Sunset explained.

Pyrrha rolled her eyes.

Their attention was both drawn by the slamming of the door as Phoebe Kommenos stalked from the hall.

Phoebe stormed out of the amphitheatre. Pathetic! Absolutely useless! What a waste of lien!

If only Arslan had agreed to help her instead of standing upon her ridiculous morals! Little jumped-up gutter plebe had presumed to look down on Phoebe, just because she was wise enough to know better than to confront that faunus personally.

Damn that Sunset. She and Pyrrha, so close and chummy, it was sickening to her. Pyrrha had no respect for an elder of her own class, but she could smile and jest – at Phoebe’s expense, most like – with a faunus!

Why was it always faunus? What did everyone see in these freaks, these hideous animals? General Ironwood looked with favour upon that ridiculous rainbow-haired braggart, and now upon that White Fang girl too. Rumour said that she was going to transfer to Atlas next year, her crimes forgiven because everyone was so in awe of her dazzling skill.

Turnus had his pet fox, whom he loved so well, whom he called a part of his family as though that was something to be proud of instead of cause for shame. When she had suggested – as a dear friend and a fellow admirer of Atlesian culture – that he ought to send her away for the good of his reputation… he had frightened her in that moment; she had honestly thought he might kill her.

She only wanted what was best for him. He was so strong, so masterful, and so commanding, so what did so excellent a man see in a faunus and in that insipid Pyrrha?

Why couldn’t he see how she felt? Why did he prefer them over her?

Phoebe suspected that Camilla had some part in that; she was urging his suit towards Nikos instead of her, although Phoebe would have given him her hand gladly, while Pyrrha… well, she preferred to tart herself out to some Valish nobody.

That was what you got when you lay down with faunus, and especially faunus who dressed like that. Honestly, could those pants get any tighter? What was Lady Nikos thinking, bestowing Soteria upon someone of that race and that character?

Why had she found Sunset Shimmer more worthy to bear the Kommenos blade than the last of the Kommeni?

But she would have her revenge. On Sunset and Pyrrha and Arslan and the whole pack of them! She would have her revenge, and she would have her sword too.

And, thanks to the arrangements for the next grimm studies practical for the freshman year, she already knew how.

The Lost Heir (New)

The Lost Heir

"I guarantee," Pyrrha said, "once it's done, you'll be glad you came."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," Jaune murmured. "It's just that I've never been to a spa before."

"You're not going to get all macho on us, are you?" Sunset asked.

"No," Jaune replied quickly. "It's just not something that I ever thought about doing or going to."

"Well, Pyrrha's right," Sunset said. "Once all your treatments are complete, you will feel like a new person. And look like one too."

With the battle done, the three of them had headed down into Vale for the remainder of the afternoon, with Pyrrha having invited Jaune to join herself and Sunset at the spa. Ruby had been invited too but had begged off, claiming that she had stuff to take care of.

Sunset wasn't sure what that stuff was, but if Ruby didn't want to come, then no one was going to force her to. As much as the benefits of a spa day – or spa afternoon – were incredibly therapeutic in her opinion, it wasn't to everyone's taste.

If Ruby had other plans that suited her better, then fair enough.

A few people took pictures of them as they passed by; actually, no, that was not correct: people took pictures of Pyrrha, which may or may not have caught Jaune or Sunset in the frame.

Thinking about it some more, Sunset considered that some of them might be trying to get pictures of Jaune too, if only because – what with the fact that they were holding hands as they walked – it was pretty clear that he was Pyrrha's boyfriend. There was probably a market for that kind of thing in… in the kind of places that Sunset had used to break up Cardin's relationship with Skystar.

The thought made her feel a little bit ill, a cramping feeling in her stomach that she wished she could be rid of.

Unfortunately, she thought it likely that only making amends could permanently erase these feelings.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Sunset said quickly. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, what with, well-" – a flash went off in Sunset's face, causing her to blink rapidly – "-that?"

"It's just that you looked a little upset for a moment," Pyrrha murmured. "As for the other, I'm sorry; I'm afraid it's an occupational hazard of being seen with me."

"Would you like me to take care of it?" Sunset asked. "Like I did in Mistral," she added, lest Jaune get the wrong idea about what she intended as she held up her hand, the green glow of magic covering her skin as she gathered power in her palm.

Pyrrha hesitated. "That would be lovely," she conceded, "but if nobody noticed me, I'm not sure how we'd get into the spa."

Sunset laughed as the magic dissipated in her hand. "True enough," she agreed. "I'm afraid you have to suffer for our sakes."

Pyrrha smiled. "Having someone whom I can suffer for makes it worthwhile," she murmured.

Nevertheless, Sunset and Jaune attempted to block lines of sight to her with their bodies as they made their way down the street.

"Don't you think it's weird," Sunset said, "how sometimes you get these people lying in wait for you, and other times it's like you're anonymous? It's as if someone is tipping them off about your whereabouts, but only some of the time."

"Perhaps someone is," Pyrrha suggested. "Or people are, at least; some journals will pay for that kind of information. It's easy money, I suppose."

"Fine, but who knew who'd say anything?" Sunset asked. Ruby, she discounted instantly; she would never do something like this, but then, who else? Could someone have bugged their room? But who? They didn't play host to the sort of students who would do something like that, so then could it be a cleaner? They might be looking for some extra lien, and it would explain why only Pyrrha's movements that were discussed in the dorm room were known.

I'll have a look when we get back.

Really, like I didn't have enough to worry about with-

It occurred to Sunset that if there was a listening device in the dorm room, then it would have picked up her conversation with Jaune in which she had tacitly admitted to being Anon-a-Miss and having screwed over Cardin.

Well, that could be… bad.

Unfortunately, there was little to be done about it now; the recording would already be in the hands of… whoever's hands it was meant to land with, and no amount of searching the room would stop it at this point.

And besides, rushing back to the dorm room would only tell Pyrrha that she had something to hide.

Relax, even if they did hear that, nobody cares about you.

Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, squeezing Jaune's hand tightly as she adopted a composed, nigh-expressionless look for the cameras; her face was so fixed that she almost seemed more doll than human.

Is that really what I want?

Yes, yes it is.

Jaune also noticed Pyrrha's discomfiture; he could hardly have failed to do so, considering that it was his hand that she was clamped onto, and there was a definite air of hoping to change the subject in his voice as he said, "So, Sunset, all that worrying about the fight for nothing, huh?"

Sunset chuckled. "I wouldn't say for nothing," she relied. "If I hadn't worried about it at all, then I wouldn't have put enough thought into it to come up with that plan."

"It was an innovative approach to take," Pyrrha said softly. "I don't think that anyone was expecting it. You've never used your, uh, semblance, quite like that before."

Sunset shrugged. "And a good thing too, or he might have seen it coming."

"But why not?" Jaune asked. "In a real fight-"

"In a real fight, I can't win by ring out," Sunset reminded him. "I would have needed more than that to get his aura in the red, and I'd need more than that in a real fight too."

"Okay, but it has to be better than letting Adam Taurus stab you to get a hit on him," Jaune replied.

"Well… okay, you might have a point there," Sunset conceded.

"It does seem strange to utilise a technique that keeps you out of harm's way in a sparring match and not in a battle," Pyrrha agreed. "Our enemies outside the school are far more dangerous than those within. For the most part," she added quietly.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'For the most part'?"

"Oh, it's probably nothing," Pyrrha said, "but Phoebe can be very tenacious."

Sunset snorted. "That only matters if she's any good. I've seen no sign of that so far."

Pyrrha did not reply; perhaps she didn't want to insult a competitor, no matter how much they might deserve it. All she said was, "I'm just not sure this is over, as much as I would like it to be."

"What's she going to do, find someone else to take me on?" Sunset demanded. "At some point, that starts to look a bit ridiculous, don't you think? And even if she does, I'll take them on and beat them, just like I did today."

"I'm glad to see that it hasn't puffed your ego up at all," Jaune remarked.

"You like me because I'm full of myself," Sunset replied. "It's an inseparable part of my charm."

"'Inseparable' is one word for it," Jaune muttered.

By this point, they had arrived at the antique-styled spa and passed between the Mistralian columns and under the shadowed colonnade before they reached the glass doors which swung open automatically to admit them. Sunset hung back a little to let Jaune and Pyrrha go in first, and she was the last one to pass the doors and walk into the lobby. Soft ambient music was playing in the lobby, and the air conditioning meant that it was pleasantly cooler in here than in the street outside.

And Rainbow Dash was there, sitting on one of the comfy chairs, dressed in a dark purple bathrobe with a fluffy white collar and cuffs, with tortoise slippers on her feet, a soft smile upon her face as she leafed through a magazine.

Sunset stared at her. Her eyes widened. Her eyebrows rose. Rainbow Dash? Rainbow Dash? "Rainbow Dash?!"

"Gah!" Rainbow cried, almost leaping out of her seat as the magazine fell from her hands. "Sunset! Jaune, Pyrrha, aha, what, uh, what are you guys doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I guess," Jaune suggested. "I can't imagine there's much choice of stuff to do in a spa."

"Are you kidding, there's tons of stuff that you can do here," Rainbow exclaimed. "I mean, uh, not that I'd know much about that, because, you know, all of that frou-frou stuff isn't my kind of thing at all, aha, no sir. I'm just here to get a deep tissue sports massage."

At that moment, Twilight came out of the bathroom, wearing a light blue dressing gown with her cutie mark – okay, so it wasn't her cutie mark, but Sunset caught herself thinking of them that way sometimes – of the six-pointed star embroidered on the breast. "Oh, hey, you guys; are you here to get pampered pedicures, too?"

Sunset folded her arms. "'Pampered pedicures'?" she repeated, eyes fixed squarely upon Rainbow Dash. Perhaps she ought to have been more circumspect, considering that Rainbow Dash had been avoiding her for a little bit, and the last time they had spoken, they had not left things upon the very best terms, but come on, when was she ever going to get a chance like this again to needle the proud hero of the north? It was just too good to resist.

Rainbow's face fell. A sigh fell from her lips. "Well… just because a girl is an awesome daredevil doesn't mean that she can't take care of herself. And besides, one of the things that Atlas is fighting for is so people can enjoy the finer things in life."

"Really?" Sunset said. "That's what Atlas is fighting for? Spa days?"

"It's part of a long list of things that Atlas is fighting for, yes," Rainbow said, with a straight face and an utterly sincere tone.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "You don't need to convince us, Rainbow Dash."

"I need to convince her," Rainbow said, pointing at Sunset.

"No, you don't," Sunset replied. "I'm just not going to let you live it down."

Rainbow huffed.

Twilight giggled. "You don't mind if we join you, do you?"

"Not at all," Pyrrha declared. "We'd be delighted."

And so, after changing into their robes – and in the process, reminding Sunset why Ruby probably wouldn’t have enjoyed a trip here – they passed through the sweltering of the steam room, then to the mud baths, then on to the actual baths, before having their faces covered in green paste with cucumbers over their eyes, at which point, someone Sunset couldn’t see played the xylophone upon her back while she lay on her front.

And then, when all of that was done, Sunset was able to lie on her back while the cream they had smeared all over her face worked its magic upon her pores and wrinkles.

Jaune sighed. “You guys were right; this really is relaxing.”

“Sometimes, it’s good to just be able to forget your troubles for a little while,” Pyrrha whispered contentedly.

“You got a lot of troubles to forget?” Rainbow asked.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “No, thank goodness.”

They sat together in companionable silence for a little while, or at least it probably seemed companionable to other people, but, with her teasing out of the way, Sunset began to find herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rainbow Dash, after all, knew the same thing that Jaune knew, and unlike Jaune, she had no reason to keep it to herself any longer.

She sighed. Well, she had no desire to spend all day – all spa day, no less; this was supposed to be relaxing! – waiting for Rainbow to do the dirty on her. Waiting for Rainbow to reveal her sins. Waiting for Rainbow to do something that was in between betrayal and justice, or perhaps both at the same time. Waiting for Rainbow to say something; let’s put it like that.

She didn’t want to spend all day waiting, and so she said, “So, Rainbow Dash, what do you think about that leak, huh?”

Twilight made a sound as though she was about to choke on one of her cucumber slices, but didn’t actually say anything.

“Sunset, do we have to talk about that?” Pyrrha asked wearily. “We’re supposed to be forgetting our troubles. I hardly think that is the sort of thing that Rainbow wants to be reminded of.”

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “It doesn’t really seem like the sort of thing you’d want to talk about either.”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow said. “I mean, sorry if you guys don’t want to talk about it, but I won’t be long. What do I think about the leak and all that other stuff…?” Rainbow exhaled loudly. “They had it coming.”

Sunset would have blinked if she didn’t have cucumbers over her eyes. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” Rainbow demanded. “Were there better ways of handling it? Probably. But so what? Like Applejack always says ‘Once the cider’s been made, ain’t no use sayin’ you want apple pie.’”

“When has Applejack ever said that?” Twilight asked.

“Applejack says stuff like that all the time!”

“I’m going to tell her you said that,” Twilight informed her.

“The point is, there are a few things where I draw the line and saying you want to wipe out the faunus is one of them,” Rainbow declared. “Sure, it’s not great that Flash and those guys are involved, but… when I think about what she said, I want to break every bone in Bon Bon’s body. Because it’s not just me; it’s Scootaloo, and it’s why Gilda joined the White Fang, and why Adam… sorry, guys, you don’t want to hear this.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “Please, don’t stop on our account.”

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. “None of you guys will get this, because most of you are human, and Sunset doesn’t give a damn… but there are times when I wonder… how can I be on the right side when people like Bon Bon are on the same side as me?”

“Because people like Twilight and Applejack are also on the same side as you,” Sunset declared.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Well when you put it like that, it sounds obvious,” she muttered. She laughed, even if it did sound just a little forced. “Sorry. I didn’t meanmind to bring down the mood.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No,” Rainbow said curtly. “You shouldn’t have.”

Silence descended upon the group once again, broken by a nervous-sounding Twilight asking, “So, aha, didn’t Ruby want to come with you?”

“No,” Sunset replied. “She had other plans. Didn’t Ciel want to come with you? This seems like her thing.”

“I get what you mean,” Rainbow answered, “but someone has to keep an eye on Penny.”

“And rank has its privileges,” Sunset murmured.

“Don’t say it like that!” Rainbow snapped. “Ciel volunteered; she’s teaching Penny how to dance.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Pyrrha declared. “Is she excited?”

“You bet,” Rainbow said. “I hope she can calm down long enough to actually learn something.”

“She’ll be fine,” Twilight insisted. “Ciel is a very patient teacher. Where Penny’s concerned, anyway. It comes with being a big sister, I guess.”

“I don’t know; not every big sister ever is patient and understanding of their little… siblings,” Jaune said. “Penny’s lucky to have someone like Ciel.”

“We’re lucky to have Penny,” Twilight said. “She… she’s going to be something one of these days. Oh, which reminds me, Pyrrha, Penny was hoping that she could sit in on your training with Jaune tomorrow.”

“'Sit in'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“She just wants to watch,” Twilight explained. “She doesn’t expect you to actually teach her anything; she just wants to see how you do it.”

“Although she wouldn’t say no to tuition either,” Rainbow added. “It’s driving her nuts that Professor Goodwitch won’t call her up to fight you in combat class.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “I can’t say that I hadn’t noticed that.”

Rainbow laughed. “Mind you,” she said, “considering who you are, it’s not surprising that there’s a line all the way around the block who wants to have a crack at you, and the professor has to be fair about this stuff, I guess.”

“There’s a line?” Pyrrha asked, her voice surprised. “To fight me?”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow said, as though that should have been obvious. “What, did you think everyone was running scared because you’re the Invincible Girl of Mistral?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Some do find my reputation intimidating,” she pointed out.

“Come on, Pyrrha, give us some credit,” Rainbow cried. “For some people, sure, the fact that you’ve never lost is going to be a downer, but for some of us, it just makes us even more stoked to take you on. Who wouldn’t want to be the first one to win against the great Pyrrha Nikos, right, Sunset?”

Sunset snorted. “I wouldn’t have said no to the honour,” she said, understating just how badly she had wanted it at the time. “That being said, Dash, you’re a fool if you think that you can succeed where I failed.”

Rainbow scoffed. “Oh, you think you’re so much better than I am just because you’re flashing your magic all over the place all of a sudden?”

Sunset thought about it for a second. “Yep.”

“Hmph. Enjoy it while it lasts, because you’re on my list as well.”

“Your list?”

“My list of awesome fights I want before the year ends,” Rainbow explained. “You and me, head to head. I gotta say, I wish that you’d been this honest about how strong you are when you were at Canterlot.”

“Why, would you have respected me more?”

“Yep,” Rainbow replied.

“That was a pretty great fight today,” Twilight added, “but neither of us were really able to work out what it was you were fighting about. Why did Bolin challenge you to duel?”

“Because someone was paying him,” Jaune explained.

“Someone paid him?” Twilight repeated. “Someone paid him to challenge Sunset to a duel?”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured.

“That doesn’t sound very honourable.”

“No,” Pyrrha conceded sadly. “It was not.”

“But why?” Twilight asked. “Why would anyone want to pay someone else to fight a duel?”

“Because they were afraid to face Sunset themselves, I bet,” Rainbow answered.

“I think so too,” Sunset said. “What do you know about a third-year student named Phoebe Kommenos?”

Rainbow groaned.

“That bad, huh?” Jaune asked.

“Let me see,” Rainbow growled. “She’s rich, so she walks around like she owns the place, and she can be generous to her ‘friends’ as well, so she walks around like she owns the place surrounded by a crew of lackeys who laugh at her bad jokes and sneer at the people she doesn’t like, and that seems to be pretty much everybody. She treats her partner like a servant, she looks at me like I smell bad, and she isn’t even that good! She’s a rotten team leader and a pretty bad huntress, too.”

“Then how did she make team leader?” Jaune asked. “General Ironwood must have chosen her.”

“Maybe the great General Ironwood gets it wrong sometimes,” Sunset suggested.

“Her teammates… they let her walk on them,” Rainbow said. “So it seems like she’s a natural leader because she can make other people do as she says. That, and… well… she puts on a good face for the faculty: good grades, always well turned out, always polite, helpful. The professors think she’s great because they never see the same side of her that she shows to us students.

“We’ve never been in the same year, so I don’t have too much to do with her, thank the gods. Are you mixed up with her somehow?”

“The short version,” Sunset said, “is that my sword used to belong to her great-great-uncle, who died in the Great War fighting for the Emperor of Mistral, Pyrrha’s ancestor. Pyrrha’s family took the sword as a memento of a valiant retainer of their house, but Phoebe says the sword should belong to her as the descendant of the dead man.”

“I… can see where she’s coming from,” Twilight said softly, “but it seems like a very trivial thing to get upset about at this distance from the event itself.”

“So she set Bolin up to fight you for it?” Rainbow asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to want to hear this,” Rainbow went on, “but maybe you should just give her the sword.”

“What?” Sunset said, her body shooting bolt upright as she ripped a cucumber slice off one eye so that she could glare at Rainbow, for all that Dash couldn’t see her because she hadn’t taken her cucumbers off. “Seriously?”

“It would get her off your back,” Rainbow said.

“At what cost?” Sunset demanded. “My pride? My dignity? My sacred honour? That sword was given to me by Pyrrha’s mother, by Lady Nikos, the rightful Empress of Mistral. I should be shamed if I broke faith with her and cast aside the token of her trust in me.”

“You’ve read too many old books, if you can talk like that so easily,” Twilight murmured.

Sunset ignored that. “The point is that I would insult someone whom I respect and who respects me, what is more, if I surrender that sword, and even if that weren’t the case, I’m not going to be bullied by some gender swapped Cardin.”

“I can respect that,” Rainbow admitted. “But… I’m still not sure it’s worth the effort and the trouble over a sword. Give it to her already, and you look generous.”

“And I am sure that that kind of attitude would carry you all the way to the top in Atlas,” Sunset said sarcastically, “but I could care less about getting on in the world, certainly not at the cost of my self-respect. I'm not going to humble myself in front of her to make my life a little easier any more than because Phoebe’s ancestors fought in the Great War. And if she wants to start something, I'll take her on." She replaced the cucumber slices on her eyes as she leaned back on the recliner. "On a lighter note, and hopefully to bring the mood back," she said, "Pyrrha, I think your mother is starting to come around to the idea of you and Jaune."

Pyrrha's tone was less enthusiastic than Sunset would have liked. "Is that so?"

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that that isn't the point," Pyrrha declared. "I don't need my mother to approve of my boyfriend; I don't need her permission to date Jaune, and I don't want her permission; I want and need her to accept my choices in my own life! Is that so very much to ask?"

"What if it is?" Sunset demanded. "Are you going to freeze her out until she comes to you on bended knee? I know that's not going to happen, and you know that isn't going to happen; your mother has too much pride for that. But for what it's worth, I really think she's trying to meet you halfway on this." She hesitated. "I've never liked the fact that you've fallen out with your mother, but I could understand why you were upset. But now… she's making a concession to you; don't you think the time has come when you might deign to be magnanimous?"

Pyrrha did not reply; instead, it was Jaune who said, "Pyrrha, maybe you should think about it."

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, surprised.

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, his voice as soft as the spring breeze, "the fact that you were willing to turn your back upon your mom for my sake… it humbles me, it really does. Choosing me over your family… it makes me feel so, so lucky and so, so small at the same time. But I don't want to be the reason why you don't have a relationship with your mom, and I don't want to be the reason you can't go home again, especially since I know what your home and your name and all the rest of it means to you. I don't want to force you to make that choice-"

"You're not."

"And I don't want you to start regretting the choice you made in ten years and start to blame me for it," Jaune continued.

Pyrrha was silent a moment. "Ten years," she murmured. "You… you think we'll still be together in ten years?"

"Well, maybe," Jaune said. "If we're both still alive."

Pyrrha let out a sort of giddy giggling chuckle. Sunset would have rolled her eyes if they hadn't been closed against the cucumber juice.

"You don't have to do what I say," Jaune said, "but if you want to hear Sunset out… it can't hurt, right?"

Once more, a silence fell upon the group, broken by Pyrrha asking, "What did my mother say?"

Sunset chuckled. "She wants me to find out about Jaune's pedigree and report back to her."

"My pedigree?" Jaune asked. "You mean like a Labrador or something?"

"Well, you have got that soft, floppy blond hair," Sunset said. "But no, she means your ancestors. Lady Nikos is hoping-"

"That you turn out to have a noble descent," Pyrrha interrupted. "Isn't it enough that you are brave and kind? Isn't it enough that I care about you, and that… that you care about me?"

"I kind of hope so, since I don't think I've got any noble ancestors," Jaune admitted. "My dad was a huntsman, but he retired to raise a family. My mom's side of the family are all farmers, just like… well, just like most people from where I come from. Alba Longa isn't a place where you find fancy people."

"Are you sure about that?" Sunset asked. "Because backwater farming communities seem like just the sort of place where you might find, oh, I don't know, the lost heir to the throne of Vale."

"What?!" Jaune exclaimed. "Uh, Sunset, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about faking it so that you can appease Lady Nikos and get her to give her blessing to your being with Pyrrha obviously," Sunset replied.

"Giving away her sword is something that you would never even contemplate because you respect Pyrrha's mother so much," Twilight said, "but lying to her, oh, that's fine."

"It's not lying-" Sunset began.

"You're suggesting telling her things that aren't true; that is exactly lying," Twilight declared.

"Also known as storytelling," Sunset pointed out.

"Or fraud," Twilight said dryly.

"It would only be fraud if Jaune were trying to get something out of it," Sunset said. "But he's not; he doesn't want land or money, still less to actually take the throne; we just want to persuade one proud woman that this young man is worthy of her daughter."

"It should not require deception to persuade her of that," Pyrrha muttered.

"Yes, well, I'm sorry that your mother does not respect your romantic autonomy, but I am trying to do the best I can as both your friend and Lady Nikos' trusted woman," Sunset declared. "I know that you're upset, and I will even go so far as to say you've a right to be angry, but I don't like having to tell your mother that you still aren't ready to speak to her yet; it upsets her, and it makes me look bad. This is an opportunity for reconciliation, so will you please just consider it instead of standing upon your pride just because you're not getting everything that you want?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Twilight's right; it is lying to her; how can I reconcile with my mother through deception?"

"And how are you going to convince anybody that I'm the rightful heir to the throne of Vale?" Jaune demanded.

"Simple," Sunset said, "I'm going to use your sword."

"My sword?" Jaune repeated.

"Crocea Mors," Sunset explained, "is not only the name of your sword, but also the name of the sword wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland, who was the fourth son of King Edward Farstrider, the first king of a united Vale."

"Hey, that's the guy from Ruby's story, right?" Rainbow said. "The Song of Olivia? She was in love with him, but he had to marry someone else because she wasn't good enough for him."

"Correct," Sunset said, "and it is precisely to avoid such a situation that we are going to fake Jaune's degree. Now, as I was saying, this Jaune of Gaunt helped expand his father's kingdom by leading the second expedition over the mountains and into the eastern lands beyond-"

"What happened to the first expedition?" Twilight asked.

"Between the grimm and the barbarians, they found it too hard going and had to turn back," Rainbow said. "They were almost home when the rearguard was attacked making its way up to the mountain pass; that's when Olivia died. Ruby's right; it is a really cool story."

"But Gaunt did what his father could not and claimed all the lands from the mountains to the sea," Sunset said. "He held it for a while, but the lands were lost when, after his death, his son marched west to take the throne of Vale for himself. His line held the throne, then lost it, then took it back and held it while the line lasted, but as far as I can make out-"

"How do you know so much about the Valish royal family?" Jaune asked.

"Because Cinder and I are going to see a couple of the Richard plays in the park tomorrow, and I wanted to know the history in case I couldn't keep up with the language," Sunset explained. "The point is that, as far as I can tell, the kings of Vale made a habit of bestowing Crocea Mors upon younger children of their family, but those cadet branches always failed, and the sword ended up back with the main royal line. Until it didn't. The last person known to bear the sword was Harry, Duke of Alexandria, who renounced his titles, lands, and claims in order to marry someone unsuitable."

"She wasn't good enough for his family?" Pyrrha asked.

"She was a Mantleite, a divorcee, an actress, and a faunus, so no, not really," Sunset replied. "They disappeared into obscurity to escape from the press, which is where the sword vanishes as well."

"It's a pity that they had to flee and hide, but on the other hand, I can't help but feel that they were very fortunate to be able to do so," Pyrrha murmured. "They had one another, after all. I hope they were able to make a happy life together."

"The point is, who is to say that those ten generations do not lead to Alba Longa and Jaune Arc?" Sunset asked. "Who is to say that we can't suggest they did?"

"You do realise that if the Duke of Alexandria renounced his titles, lands, and claims, then Jaune would not, in fact, be the heir to the throne, even if he really was a descendant," Twilight pointed out.

"That would matter if he were claiming the throne," Sunset allowed, "but the important point for Lady Nikos' benefit is that Jaune is of royal blood and a gentleman of the most august and venerable ancestry. With the throne defunct, the fact that Jaune cannot claim it is irrelevant; in terms of blood and descent and noble pedigree, he is nearly on a level with Pyrrha herself."

"You're starting to talk about this like you've already forgotten it's fake," Jaune said.

"I prefer to think of it as a story rather than a falsehood," Sunset replied. "It's not like you're lying to get Pyrrha to like you; she already does. It isn't even as though you're lying to get Lady Nikos to like you, because I honestly don't think she ever will. This is a matter of allowing Lady Nikos to save face both with Pyrrha and with high society. Now, is a little white lie really so high a price to pay for that?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated. "I will think about it," she said, in a tone that strongly suggested to Sunset that the answer would be 'no.' "Anyway," she went on, "Rainbow Dash, you were asking about Penny coming to watch our training tomorrow night? I'm afraid we got a little sidetracked. Personally, I wouldn't have any objections-"

"Me neither," Jaune added.

"But I'm afraid that Jaune and I don't train on a Saturday night because-"

"Oh, right, yeah, you have special lessons with Professor Goodwitch, don't you?" Rainbow asked.

"Yang and I, yes," Pyrrha confirmed. "But how did you know?"

"Atlesian intelligence is second to none," Rainbow declared.

"Ruby told you, didn't she?" Sunset guessed.

"Ruby told Penny," Twilight corrected. "And Penny became very jealous of Yang."

"Well, Professor Goodwitch let me and Blake watch the first session; maybe she'd let Penny come along on Saturday night?" Jaune suggested.

"You and Blake are Beacon students," Twilight pointed out. "For now, at least, in Blake's case."

"Yeah, but Jaune's right; there's no harm in showing up to see what she says," Rainbow said. "And besides, if it was about training up a Beacon winner for the Vytal Festival or something, then she'd be teaching Weiss too, so that they had more options. If she's focussing on Pyrrha and Yang, it's because they're the best. Well, Penny could be the best even if she isn't yet, so… why not?"

"Okay, but maybe you should actually ask Professor Goodwitch first before you just show up at the amphitheatre door," said Twilight.

"You're probably right," Rainbow conceded. "As usual."

Sunset lay back, and pondered exactly why Professor Goodwitch was giving private tuition to the two most talented students in the year, instead of those who might actually need it more.

Perhaps Professor Ozpin was involved. He could have put her up to it to hide his secrets, after all. Perhaps… perhaps Sunset had been wrong, and his interest was not in Ruby – that would explain why he had made no moves to enlighten her upon the subject of her Silver Eyes, as he had her mother – perhaps it was Pyrrha and Yang who interested him.

Could he mean for either Pyrrha or Yang to be his prophet? Surely, Merida could not be so old.

And if that is his intention, what can I do about it?

Do I have the right to do anything about it?

Possibly not. Probably not, in fact. While Sunset was certain that Ruby would hate the confined lifestyle which she believed Ozpin's magical girls were inured in, she was less certain about Pyrrha. It would mean giving up her destiny, to be sure, turning her back on saving the world… but Pyrrha's sense of duty was not as monofocussed as Ruby's own: many kings and princes had done their duty without venturing out onto the front lines of battle, and Pyrrha was sufficiently steeped in history and lore to know that. To keep great power out of the hands of evil might be thought an honourable charge, and if it meant toiling in obscurity, well… as Pyrrha herself had so recently said, she might think herself fortunate to be able to disappear with Jaune into hiding, free to live and love with no one to trouble them.

How exactly you would hide the Princess Without a Crown was something else, for surely Mistral would search for her. You could fake her death, but then…

Sunset was forcefully struck by the thought of Lady Nikos, receiving the sword and circlet of her 'late daughter,' hanging her death mask on the wall for however long the mother might outlive the child. Whatever the state of relations between Pyrrha and her mother now, Sunset was in no doubt that grief would fill up the house of the absent girl if Pyrrha were to perish or be thought to have perished. Philosophy would offer no consolation; the brave words of heroes long past would seem hollow in the extreme. Lady Nikos would be broken by these calamities: the extinction, as she would think, of her ancient line; the fall of her house; the death of her sweet child.

She loved her daughter and would remember it before the end.

Too cruel; too, too cruel.

Sunset forced her mind away from such things; this was no proper place for them. She was here to relax – they were all here to relax – and there had been too much serious talk already.

She twisted her body in place, searching as she lay for greater comfort, and tried to take her mind off of it all.

In this, she was less than wholly successful.

Fabric Shopping (New)

Fabric Shopping

“Thanks for coming with me,” Ruby said, looking up at Blake as they walked side by side down the street. “You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I wanted to,” Blake replied. “I know that we haven’t spent much time together, but I’d like the chance to rectify that a little bit, if you don’t mind.”

Ruby smiled. “I’d like that too,” she said brightly. “Though that doesn’t mean that you have to come fabric shopping with me. It might not be the most interesting thing you’ve ever done.”

“Who do you think made this outfit?” Blake asked, a wry look upon her face as she gestured to her clothes.

“Uh…” Ruby began, and then trailed off because she realised that she’d never really thought about it before. “I kind of thought that you bought it.”

“There aren’t a lot of stores out in the wilderness,” Blake pointed out.

“Fabrics don’t grow on trees either,” Ruby pointed out in turn.

“No,” Blake allowed. “I admit that I got the fabrics in Mistral, but I put it together myself. I wanted something that allowed me flexibility for the way that I fight, but I also…” Her face fell, and her head fell with it, bowing towards the ground. “I wanted to look…”

She wanted to look good for that guy, Ruby thought, as the memory of that mask flashed before her eyes. Adam Taurus. He didn’t scare her the way that he scared Sunset – which was maybe a little strange, but at the same time, it had all happened so fast for her that she hadn’t had time to really think about it before she was… not really thinking anything at all – but all the same, the thought of him still made her shiver. And to think that Blake had been his... his prisoner. Was that right? Ruby wasn’t sure if that was quite the right way to think about it, but at the same time, it felt like the right way to think about it, if that made any sense. She’d been his prisoner, and then she’d gotten out, and now… now she was getting better.

When she didn’t have to think about him.

Ruby reached out and took Blake by the hand. “Hey,” she said gently. “It’s okay.”

Blake’s golden eyes widened as she looked down at Ruby’s hand, clasping her own. “Ruby.”

“It’s okay,” Ruby repeated. “I’m right here, and he’s not.”

Blake was silent for a moment, her chest rising and falling as she breathed in and out, before she smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Ruby said. “Do you want to sit down, go get a coffee or something?”

“No, I’m fine,” Blake replied rapidly. “It’s just… I can’t deny that he was a part of my reasoning, just like I can’t deny that he was a big part of my life for a long time.”

“You’re not that person anymore.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but that doesn’t change the fact of who I used to be,” Blake said. She brushed a few rogue strands of hair back over her shoulder. “Do you remember how, in the fairytale book, Professor Ozpin writes that faunus stories don’t have endings in the same way that a lot of human stories do?”

Ruby nodded. “Because faunus believe that their story hasn’t ended yet; it’s still going on.”

“We reject the idea of endings in that way,” Blake agreed. “But the inverse is true as well: there are no such things as beginnings, and certainly not easy beginnings. I could say that my life, my real life, started when I came to Beacon, or when you all fought for me at the docks and I was able to be myself without hiding, or even when I ran away from the White Fang. I could say all of that to make myself feel better, but none of it would be true. My story didn’t begin after I left Adam and the White Fang; he’s a part of my story, whether I like it or not, because my story has been going on since… before I was born.”

Ruby frowned. “How can your story have been going on since before you were born?”

“Because we’re all shaped by our world,” Blake explained. “Our world and the people in it: the people around us who raise us, teach us, help us, hinder us… and the people more distant who set the rules that govern the land we live in. And they in turn are shaped by others and by their world, all going further back beyond even the Great War. I could write a memoir of my own life and easily end the book before I was even born.”

“But then you wouldn’t be in it?”

“Yes, but all the things that made me who I am would be in place,” Blake explained.

Ruby thought about that for a moment, before she shook her head. “I don’t buy that,” she said.

Blake raised one eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because like you said yourself, your story isn’t finished yet,” Ruby said. “So how do you know who the people are who will shape you the most?”

Blake blinked. “That is a very good point,” she admitted. “When I came to Beacon, I couldn’t imagine what kind of influence some of the people I’d meet here would have on me.”

“Me neither,” Ruby agreed as they resumed their journey down the street. “When I was on the airship over here, the only thing that I wanted was to get through these four years without being noticed by anyone. If everyone wanted to see right through me, that would have been fine by me. I could never have imagined how many wonderful friends I’d make here.”

“Same here,” Blake said. “Well, you know that I was hiding myself under a bow, and you remember how I acted when you came over to talk to Sunset. I didn’t want anything to do with anyone; I was… I was afraid of letting anyone get close enough to find out who I really was… afraid of letting anyone get close enough to hurt me.” For a moment, Ruby was afraid that she would slip into melancholy once again, but she seemed to shake it off this time, visibly shaking her head and shoulders as if there was something physically there that she could dislodge. “Who would have thought that someone like me would be able to make so many friends who accept me for who I am, even though they know… everything about me, and who I used to be? I guess… we both got very lucky.”

Ruby nodded. “Blake,” she asked, “do you like it here, at Beacon?”

Blake’s answer was delayed by a little bit. “Are you asking me if I like it here, or are you asking me if I’m going to stick around?”

Ruby shrugged. “Both?”

"Those are two different questions," Blake pointed out. "Yes, I like it here at Beacon. I like the school; I like all of you. The way that I've been accepted for who I am instead of what I am, and after everything I've done, it… it's more than I could have hoped for."

"Then stay," Ruby said. "It doesn't sound like you've got any reason not to."

Blake smiled slightly. "It's not that simple," she said.

"Isn't it?" Ruby asked. "It sounds simple to me. You can learn to be a huntress in any of four schools, so you might as well stick with the school you already know you like, right?"

The smile remained on Blake's face, a fond smile if not a particularly wide one, and Ruby thought that Blake would answer her in some way before they were both interrupted by the stirring to life of one of the big public screens, set high up above the level of the street, on the corner where three roads intersected. The screen flashed green for a moment before the bright green light was replaced by the image of Lisa Lavender, sat in a comfy red chair in a studio somewhere, with large windows overlooking the city of Vale.

"Good afternoon; this is the Lavender Report with me, Lisa Lavender," she said. "Our first guest today is Councillor of the Interior Aspen Emerald. Thank you for joining us, Councillor."

Ruby was surprised to see that Councillor Aspen was a deer faunus, with pale skin and a regal set of antlers, broader than his shoulders, sprouting from his head; he was dressed in a dark suit, contrasting with the fair tone of his skin, and even sat upon a red settee opposite Lisa Lavender, he towered over the newscaster. His green eyes stood out even at this distance and over camera.

He smiled. "It's my pleasure to be here, Miss Lavender."

"Crime rates in the city have been dropping since Atlesian forces apprehended Roman Torchwick," Lisa said. "Is it time for the citizens of Vale to breathe easy once again?"

Aspen chuckled as, with one hand, he made a slight adjustment to his green tie, the only splash of colour in his outfit. "Let me begin with an important clarification: Roman Torchwick was not captured by Atlesian forces; he was taken in a joint operation by students from Beacon and Atlas academies; we of the Valish council are very proud of our students, and it is only right and proper that they get the credit that they are due."

"But those Beacon students were not all from Vale, were they?"

"No, but that in itself is something to be proud of, that we have in Beacon this centre of excellence, this shining pillar if you will, that draws the best and brightest from across Remnant to study here in our kingdom and immerse themselves in our culture. I think that's something that we have worked very hard to accomplish and something that we can take pride in."

Lisa Lavender smiled like a shark. "But didn't you say, during the last election campaign, that you thought there were too many non-Valish students at Beacon Academy?"

"I don't recognise that statement," Aspen said smoothly.

Lisa Lavender leaned forwards and picked up a scroll that must have been lying just off-camera. "At a town hall meeting you said, and this is a direct quote, 'There are many problems with the current system under which huntsmen and huntresses operate. If you're asking me if I think it's fair that Valish taxpayers should pay for the education of foreign children who will then go back to their own kingdoms with the benefits of their education, no, I do not.' Your words, Councillor."

"You're misinterpreting my words," Aspen said.

"You said that you didn't think it was fair that Valish taxpayers should pay for non-Valish children to study at Beacon."

"No, I said that it wasn't fair that they should pay for the education of huntsmen and huntresses who will not stay and operate in Vale," Aspen insisted. "It has nothing to do with nationality except in so far as those students not from Vale will often return to their own homes once they graduate, and that, Miss Lavender, is where the unfairness comes in, because their education at Beacon has been funded by the Kingdom of Vale, and yet, the Kingdom of Vale sees no return on its investment."

"But you remain very proud of, for example, Pyrrha Nikos, who will almost certainly return to Mistral after her graduation."

"Ah, but you see, Miss Nikos has already provided a signal service to Vale through her assistance in the capture of Roman Torchwick," Aspen replied. "If she and her teammates do nothing else for the next four years, they will have made good on the kingdom's investment in them."

"Do you think we could use that to get out of homework?" Ruby asked.

"I doubt it," Blake replied.

"That brings us back to my original question, Councillor: can the people of Vale sleep soundly once more?"

"Let's not sensationalise, Miss Lavender; I don't believe that the people of Vale were ever not sleeping soundly-"

"He's got a point," Ruby said. "I mean, think of all the times that we've been in Vale; has anyone ever seemed frightened because of the dust robberies?"

"No," Blake admitted. "Although I'm not sure how admirable that is."

"Why not?" Ruby asked.

"Because there are a lot of things that the White Fang could do with so much dust, and none of them are good," Blake murmured. "And the fact that nobody – well, very few people – seem to be thinking about that is… I'm not sure what it is, except perhaps a little concerning."

"I don't know," Ruby said. "I think it's a good thing."

Blake glanced at her. "Really?"

Ruby nodded. "If you think about it, we're all going to die," she said. "And not just us huntresses, but everybody. We might die on missions, but other people might perish because we screwed up, or the grimm might get through the walls; there are so many terrible things that could happen that the White Fang is just one more, even with a load of stolen dust. But we can't let ourselves think like that, none of us, and not just because if we let ourselves get scared, then it will bring the grimm, but because… because how can we live if we're afraid all the time? Maybe it seems stupid, but we have to smile and laugh and pretend that things aren't as bad as they are, because it's the only way we can stop moping around and work to make things better."

Blake hesitated for a moment before she nodded. "I guess you're right," she said. "Worrying really won't solve anything."

"Nope," Ruby agreed. "And besides, I'm sure that people like Professor Ozpin are right on top of everything."

"So you don't share any of Sunset's suspicions?" Blake asked as they resumed their journey.

"Nah," Ruby replied. "Sunset is one of those people who really needs to learn to worry less."

"I thought worrying less was for when there were things to worry about?"

"Worrying about things that aren't real is even worse, don't you think?" Ruby suggested.

"Yes," Blake granted. "But it seems that the headmaster does know more than he's telling you."

"And I know more than I've told people," Ruby replied. "I haven't told Ren or Nora about my Silver Eyes, so if Professor Ozpin doesn't want to tell me about it, I'm sure he's got a good reason for keeping it to himself, just like I do."

"Would you prefer it if he did tell you?"

Ruby had to think about that one for a little bit. "Yes," she admitted. "Not just because I'd be able to fight grimm with my laser eyes," – she chuckled, drawing a laugh from Blake as well – "but because maybe he could tell me about my Mom. I know I have her diary, but there are times when it seems like she doesn't have much confidence in herself. I'd kind of like to find out what other people saw, you know? Only Dad and Uncle Qrow don't talk about her much; it hurts them to remember. Yang remembers more than I do, but not that much. I'd just like to hear some stories, you know?"

Blake put a hand on Ruby's shoulder. "I won't pretend to understand exactly what it's been like for you," she murmured, "but there's nothing strange about wanting to know more about your mother." She paused. "Have you considered going and asking Professor Ozpin, or Professor Goodwitch if that's easier?"

Ruby frowned. "I'm not sure that Sunset would like that."

"It's not Sunset's mother, or Sunset's decision," Blake informed her, a touch of sternness entering into her voice. "Sunset needs to learn to let other people make their own choices, and I'll tell her that myself if she gives you any trouble about this."

"But I don't want to get her into trouble," Ruby replied. "And how do I ask about my eyes without telling them about the diary?"

"Maybe you don't have to ask about the eyes?" Blake suggested. "Maybe you can just ask to hear some stories about your mother, about what they remember of her."

Ruby hadn't considered that before and felt like an idiot for not thinking of it herself. Now that Blake had suggested it, it seemed like the most wonderful idea in the world. "Do you… do you think they would?"

"The worst thing they can say is 'no.'" Blake pointed out.

"Right," Ruby murmured. "Okay then, I'll do it!" she cried. "Thank you, Blake."

"For what?"

"For… for being smarter than me," Ruby said.

The street down which they walked was not one of the nicest in Vale. The Kingdom was prosperous, so they said, but that prosperity didn't look as though it had reached down here; half the shops fronting onto the road were betting shops, where hopeless-looking men with unkempt beards and the eyes of those who hadn't slept for longer than was smart sat in front of fixed-odds betting terminals, mechanically pressing buttons and inserting lien so that they looked more like robots than people.

Except that the robots might not smell so bad.

The men in there reminded Ruby of her father after Mom died: the same blank stare, the listless obliviousness to the world around them. But Dad had lost the love of his life; what was these guys' excuse?

Amongst the betting shops, charity shops were the next big thing along this particular street, but more important for Ruby's purpose, there was also at least one prints and fabrics place: a narrow-fronted but deep-looking place by the name of Dunoaks, the name painted in red letters upon a white background over the door. It wasn't somewhere Ruby had been before, but it got some good reviews on-line, and it wasn't as though she could go back to Patch for this.

Ruby pushed open the door – it made no sound except the squeaking of the hinges – and walked inside. Blake followed shortly after.

Behind the simple wooden counter was a faunus, a fox faunus with a pair of tufty ears sticking out from the top of her red hair. She started a little as they came in and seemed to stare at Blake for a moment with her hazel eyes.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

“Ahem!” the woman behind the counter exclaimed. “No, nothing, nothing at all! Ahem, so, what can I help you with today?”

“We’re just browsing for now,” Ruby said.

“Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?”

“I’m making some outfits for some friends of mine, for the school dance,” Ruby explained. “But, I don’t really… I’m still thinking about... everything, really.”

“Hmm,” the faunus woman murmured. She smiled. “Well, feel free to take a look around and let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said brightly, turning away from the counter and the woman behind it as she walked deeper into the shop. Bolts of fabric were stacked in rolls in wooden alcoves piled high on top of one another, extending downwards into the interior of the store. Samples, demonstrating colour and pattern, were attached to the front or side of the alcoves for reference.

As Ruby walked down the shadowy corridors formed by the shelves, she was struck by a thought that made her turn around to face Blake. “You never answered my questions,” she declared accusingly.

Blake blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you were going to stick around, and then-”

“Then we got sidetracked, right,” Blake agreed. She then fell silent for a little bit. “If it was just a question of ‘am I happy here?’ or ‘do I like Beacon?’ then I’d stay,” she said. “I wouldn’t trade the certainty of happiness at Beacon for the chance of happiness at Atlas. That… that’s not what makes this a hard choice.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Ruby said softly. “What else is there?”

Blake reached out and ran her fingertips over a bolt of dark grey fabric. “Do you remember our first night on the train back from Cold Harbour, when we all talked about what we were doing here? Why we wanted to be huntresses?”

Ruby nodded. Her voice was quiet. “I remember.”

“Of course you do,” Blake replied. “You were so solemn then, so… so intense and full of righteousness. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think that you’re chasing a ghost.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed a little, her pale forehead wrinkling. “What if I am?”

“What are you going to do when you catch her?” Blake asked.

Ruby opened her mouth, but no words came out, not at first. Chasing a ghost. She hadn’t thought of it that way before, but, now that Blake had said, Ruby couldn’t deny it. It was… well, it was what she was doing, wasn’t it? And she didn’t see that it was a bad thing either, even if Blake had kind of implied she was. There were worse things to chase than ghosts – glory, ambition, power – and worse examples to follow than a true huntress.

Much worse.

“I don’t know if I ever will,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be strong enough, fast enough-”

“You will,” Blake assured her.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I’ve seen more of real combat than anyone in our year, and more than most in the four academies, I’ll bet,” Blake said, without any pride in the fact. “I’ve seen warriors. I’ve fought alongside them. Adam… Adam haunts my dreams, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a fighter to his fingertips, and he isn’t the only one in the White Fang who knows how to fight for the cause. I know when I’m looking at someone with the heart of a warrior and when I’m not, and you… you have so much heart in so many ways. It’s true that you’re not as strong as Pyrrha, that you don’t have Sunset’s versatility, but you have something they don’t have and will never have: the heart of a hero, the will to put everything on the line, to give everything for the sake of what you believe in. And if that’s not enough, then gods help us because nothing else will suffice.”

Ruby stared up at her. No one had… it had been some time since she had been praised like that without qualifiers. “Sunset and Pyrrha… they don’t like that about me.”

“Sunset and Pyrrha care about you,” Blake corrected her, “and that care blinds them to the fact that, sometimes, all we can do is close the wall up with our valiant dead. If closing the wall is what you hope to achieve.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you become a huntress, when you catch your ghost,” Blake said, “what will you do then?”

“I’ll fight, of course,” Ruby declared. “I’ll protect Vale, I’ll protect mankind… I’ll protect the whole world, if I can.”

“You want to hold the line,” Blake said, a statement, not a question.

“Against the grimm and the darkness? Sure,” Ruby replied. “Isn’t that what huntsmen and huntresses exist for?”

“And that’s the reason why Beacon is perfect for you,” Blake declared. “Because you want to be a hero to humanity, and Beacon trains the greatest heroes in Remnant. But for me… I’m not sure that holding the line is enough, because for me… for me and mine, the line that you hold is also a ceiling, holding us back. I don’t say this to disparage your aims and ambitions, but I want more than to just hold the line for a world that denies my people the equality that they deserve.”

“There’s a faunus on the Council,” Ruby pointed out.

“And how many faunus who aren’t on the Council are stopped by the police for no reason but that they’re faunus?” Blake asked. “The White Fang is dangerous, and it needs to be stopped before innocent people are harmed by their methods, but the only way to permanent defeat the White Fang is to eradicate the system of injustice that created it.”

“Like you said on the train,” Ruby reminded her.

“Yes,” Blake agreed. “Like I said on the train. I… I aim to fight more than just the grimm. I’d like to defeat more than just the grimm. And I’m just not sure that I can do that as just another huntress.”

“But you can as an Atlesian Specialist?”

Blake hesitated. “Maybe,” she murmured. “I don’t know – I’d need to be able to see the future for that – but I think… I think that it might be my best chance.” She sighed. “That’s what makes it such a hard choice.”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, it isn’t.”

Blake frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve already made up your mind,” Ruby said. “You’re just… not sure that you’re happy about it yet, but you’ve already chosen.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”

“The fact that I’m right,” Ruby said. “The fact that it’s obvious.” She grinned. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” Blake declared. “I’m not even close to making up my mind yet. I have no idea what Atlas is like, or about the general character of the other students-”

“And none of that will matter,” Ruby said, “because all that matters to you is doing the right thing, and you’ve already decided what that is.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

“Only because we’re kind of a lot alike,” Ruby said.

“Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” Blake said.

“I kind of doubt that,” Ruby said. “After hearing what you just said, I know there’s no way you’ll do anything else… I’ll miss you, Blake.”

“I might not be going anywhere!”

“Yeah, I doubt that, too.”

Detention in the Emerald Forest (New)

Detention in the Emerald Forest

“So, Professor,” Weiss said, “what will I be assisting you with this afternoon… and evening?” She kept her voice calm, composed, and devoid of any emotion but a little mild curiosity. Certainly, she would not admit to being anything so vulgar or plebeian as concerned. This was only the Emerald Forest, after all. She had braved it three times already without incident – alright, one of those times might have gone very badly for them if it hadn’t been for Professor Goodwitch, but the other two times had been very easy – so what was one time more? Certainly, she was not concerned about venturing here with only Professor Port for company.

Weiss was sure that Professor Port had come by his position at Beacon honestly. Professor Ozpin seemed to think very highly of him, both in the general sense that he allowed him to teach here and in the more specific sense that he had told Weiss, in particular, to listen to the advice of the Grimm Studies professor. That was all very well; it was just… it was Professor Port. The man had so many stories that it was impossible to believe that none of them were in the least bit embellished; he could make even the most daring adventures and most desperate battles soporifically tedious, and he had fake taxidermy on his walls. It was one thing for Benni Haven’s to have a fake stuffed beowolf at the door – that was all in good fun – and even the ursa’s head added to the hunting lodge atmosphere of the restaurant, but a teacher? Weiss was sure she couldn’t be the only student who found it just a little… desperate. As if Professor Port was trying very hard to convince his students that he was a great huntsman and a slayer of grimm.

To be perfectly honest, it reminded Weiss just a little of her father and the way that his house was filled with towering suits of armour and sculptures of grimm in spite of the fact that Jacques had never seen combat and would have wet himself at the sight of a real creature of grimm.

To say that she wished that one of her Beacon teachers did not remind her in some small manner of her father was an understatement.

And yet, here she was, under his supervision for the rest of the day and with only Professor Port to rely on if things became difficult.

She would have rather had just about anyone else.

None of that she showed upon her face. In expression, poise, and bearing she was the perfect student.

If only she could have actually been the perfect student and the perfect team leader… then she would not have been in this position.

Fortunately, if any of Weiss’ misgivings slipped through a crack in the armour of the perfect Schnee heiress, Professor Port did not notice. He leapt down out of the Bullhead with a jovial laugh, landing heavily upon the ground.

The two of them stood in the Emerald Forest, within a clearing some distance into the wood, so that the Beacon cliffs seemed some way off as Weiss glanced at them.

“Well, Miss Schnee,” Professor Port declared, “I hope you haven’t forgotten that your year has another practical test coming up on Sunday.”

Weiss clasped her hands behind her back, “No, Professor, I hadn’t forgotten,” she replied, although mentally, she cursed herself for not making the connection earlier. “Although,” she added, adding a slightly false chuckle to her voice, “I would have thought that the Emerald Forest would have been a little hunted out at this point.”

Professor Port joined her in laughter. “Very droll, Miss Schnee, but the creatures of grimm are like ants; every time you think you are rid of them, more creep into the house. Why, I’m reminded of a time when I was employed to protect a great estate to the east of Mistral; the grimm, you see, were continually harassing the farm labourers, and though they never ventured close to the house, it was proving very difficult to…”

Weiss fought to keep her eye from twitching. Now? He was going to launch into one of his stories now?

“But perhaps now is not the time,” Professor Port said, clearing his throat with what almost sounded like embarrassment. “After all, such a thrilling tale requires a much larger audience! I’m sorry, Miss Schnee, but you’ll have to wait to hear it with your classmates.”

“I’m sure that I can bear that, Professor,” Weiss said calmly. “Ahem, you were saying? About the practical test?”

“Ah, yes,” Professor Port declared. “I was, wasn’t I? Yes, on Sunday, you and your classmates will be returning to the forest to test your skills once more against the creatures of grimm, but this time, it won’t be so easy!”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “Are you sure, Professor? The last two times I’ve been in this forest, I fought a grimm horde, both at its full strength and the remnants of it. What could be more difficult than that?”

“Oho! Confidence is a fine trait, Miss Schnee, but don’t forget that pride goes before a fall,” Professor Port admonished. “And if you think that the horde your team encountered here was the worst that the grimm could get, well, I’m afraid that you will be very mistaken once you graduate! I could tell you stories-”

Please don’t, Weiss thought.

“But for now, I shall simply say that, while nothing to sneeze at for having dealt with at your age, a level one horde like that is, well, simply child’s play to an experienced huntsman like myself. In any event, while you may rest assured that there will be something about this particular exercise to keep your children on your toes, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fair on your classmates to give you information ahead of them. Especially when you’re here as a punishment.”

Weiss winced. “Of course, Professor,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Suffice it to say,” Professor Port went on, “that although the concentrations of grimm in the forest are not as unnaturally high as they were the last time you were here, they will be attracted towards you.”

“'Attracted'?” Weiss repeated. She could not help but frown. “I take it you’re talking about more than natural negative emotions, Professor; I mean, you couldn’t rely on them to draw the kind of grimm numbers you seem to be talking about.”

“Quite right, Miss Schnee,” Professor Port said. “It’s true that grimm are only attracted to humans, and moreso to the negative emotions that they give off, but for many years, huntsmen and huntresses have wrestled with the problem of how to lure grimm into specific areas – to draw them away from populated areas, for instance, or into traps or specifically-prepared killing grounds – and a number of answers, both technological and traditional, have been proposed.”

“'Been proposed'?” Weiss said. “Do they work, Professor?”

Professor Port was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was a little more serious than usual. “I’m afraid, child, that they have never saved a populated area,” he declared mournfully. “Are you familiar with the tragedy of Mountain Glenn?”

As much as Weiss wanted to say yes, she had to admit, “No, Professor, I’m not.”

“A terrible story,” Professor Port said. “One a little too melancholy to retell in too much detail. Suffice to say that Mountain Glenn was an attempt to found a new colony on a scale not seen since many years before the Great War; unfortunately, it soon came under relentless grimm attack. Huntsmen and huntresses made many efforts not only to destroy the grimm, but also to lead them away from the city and back out into the wilds, but it was no good. It seems that our tricks and tools are no match against the draw exerted by an entire conurbation full of frightened people.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Weiss murmured. “The city, what-?”

“A tragic tale, Miss Schnee, as I said,” Professor Port replied.

That told Weiss all that she needed to know. “I see,” she said softly. “But these lures, they work in other circumstances?”

“Oh, yes,” Professor Port agreed. “I’ve used them myself more than once. I favour a traditional Mistralian lure; that uses a grease-proof bag filled with rags soaked in human sweat; the grimm mistake the sweat smell for anxious humans and head towards it.”

Weiss opened her mouth, about to ask how Professor Port got enough sweat to make even a single lure… but then thought better of it. Instead, she asked, “So, we’ll be spreading these lures out across the forest?”

“Goodness no, Miss Schnee!” Professor Port cried. “Carrying around grimm bait would be much too hazardous for a single first-year student. No, some third-years will be planting the lures early on Sunday morning, so that they’re still fresh for your test. What we will be doing is laying out the route that you students will be following and along which the third-years will plant the lures. Here, Miss Schnee, take this.” He handed her a bucket filled with little red flags on plastic poles. “Each flag contains a micro-transmitter so that it can be picked up from a distance, while the flag itself is for students passing by. We’re going to plant them along the ground in rough lines.”

“I see,” Weiss said, noting that Professor Port was, as it happened, telling her a great deal about the forthcoming test. She guessed that the nature of the test would involve following the route marked by the flags, killing any grimm – drawn by the lures – that got in the way. That didn’t sound so difficult; in fact, it seemed so straightforward that Weiss knew there had to be a catch somewhere in order to justify the Professor’s insistence that this would be a difficult test. “You can rely on me, Professor.”

Professor Port’s eyebrows rose. “Can I, Miss Schnee?”

“Yes!” Weiss cried. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Why do you think you’re here, Miss Schnee?”

“I’m serving detention,” Weiss replied stiffly. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be trusted to handle this! I’ve made mistakes, but that doesn’t make me a bad huntress!” She hesitated. “It only… it only makes me a bad leader, that’s all.”

“A huntress who doesn’t care about her comrades may not be a bad huntress, but she will never be a great one,” Professor Port admonished.

“You think that I don’t care?” Weiss demanded.

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Weiss snapped. “I do care… about some of my teammates.”

“And the rest?”

“It’s not my fault they were obnoxious; was I supposed to just ignore that?” Weiss asked. “To bear up with it because I’d been chosen to be team leader? Or am I just supposed to devote my life to fixing them?”

“No one is asking you to do that, Miss Schnee.”

“Then what?” Weiss shouted. “What was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do? Cardin might be getting better, but it’s too early to tell, and Rusell… what was I supposed to do, Professor Port? If I wasn’t supposed to change them, if I wasn’t supposed to endure, if I wasn’t supposed to turn my back, then what? What… what was I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?”

She was answered, not by Professor Port, but by the growling of one of the beowolves creeping up behind her.

Weiss’ eye twitched. “Professor, would you allow me?”

It was hard to tell due to his walrus moustache, but she thought that Professor Port smiled. “By all means, child.”

Weiss inclined her head. “Thank you.” She placed one hand upon the hilt of Myrtenaster and turned, whipping the blade free from the sash at her waist to point its gleaming tip at the first beowolf to emerge from the bushes and leapt at her.

A black glyph, conjured by a thought, stopped the beast’s lunge in its tracks, hurling it backwards and into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk. The beowolf yelped, but its mewl of pain was ridden over by the growls of the half-dozen other grimm, led by an alpha, who began to follow it into view, their red eyes gleaming.

The corner of Weiss' lip twitched upwards as the rotary chamber of Myrtenaster slid a cartridge of lightning dust into position. She gestured towards the beowolves, sweeping her sword back as she conjured a trio of light blue glowing glyphs from which beams of pure white leapt like lasers to plunge amidst the grimm. Two beowolves died instantly, and the rest scattered to avoid Weiss’ fire. She switched to ice dust, flourishing her blade before her as a wave of ice erupted across the clearing to encase the alpha beowolf by the legs and trap it fast. Weiss conjured white glyphs for movement, sliding above the ice with the nimble grace of which a figure skater would have been envious even as the remaining grimm slipped and skidded and scrabbled for purchase on the slick surface.

Another black glyph, conjured directly beneath a struggling beowolf’s flailing feet, catapulted it up into the air. Weiss pursued, leaping from glyph to glyph upwards into the air. Myrtenaster lanced up, piercing the beowolf’s back from below and turning it to ash before her eyes. Weiss descended, flying downwards like a fearsome thunderbolt to drive her rapier straight through the mouth of a grimm that was trying to leap up and get at her where she had been so high.

Two beowolves and the alpha remained, and the alpha was still trapped. One of the two other beowolves was the one that she had hurled into a tree already, and that one hung back, seeming nervous after what she had done to it and to its pack mates.

Weiss sniffed. Let it be afraid. She might not be a good leader, but she was very good at this.

The other beowolf, less wise than its fellow, charged at her, claws biting into the ice for purchase. Weiss chambered fire dust. She pirouetted in place, her side ponytail flying around her as she spun with arms wide around her, and a wave of fire billowed out of Myrtenaster in a wide arc that struck the grimm. The beowolf howled as the flames began to consume it; it lost all interest in Weiss but flailed manically as it sought in vain to put the fires out. Weiss let it burn and turned her attention to the last non-alpha beowolf, the one who had already tasted a little of what she could do.

The beowolf whimpered.

Weiss charged, a line of glyphs carrying her forwards, Myrtenaster held before her like a lance, her ponytail streaming behind her like a banner. She came in low, crouched down, passing beneath the beowolf’s clumsy lunge, and then the glyph beneath her feet propelled her upwards with a swing to impale the beowolf’s head up through its lower jaw.

She landed gracefully back on the ground and dusted the ashes of the beowolf off her skirt with one idle hand.

There was a crack in the ice as the alpha freed itself.

All of its pack was dead – the burning beowolf had succumbed now to the flames – but the alpha remained, larger and stronger than all the rest of them, and its body more covered with armoured plates and large protruding spurs of bone-like substance.

He was more heavily protected than the rest, but he was not invulnerable.

I’d been looking for a chance to practice my time dilation.

As the alpha stomped towards her, ignoring Professor Port, Weiss swept up her blade in a gesture which might, against a human opponent, have looked like a salute.

Suffice to say that she was not saluting the grimm.

No, she was conjuring what was – until she learned how to summon – the most powerful glyph in her arsenal.

It was pale, more ethereal than the rest of her glyphs, harder to see; it was a pale, smoky silver, almost translucent, with a mercurial quality as though it were unstable and might vanish at any moment.

And within the quicksilver band spun the gears of a clock.

The world slowed around her. Professor Port, barely moving at any rate, was frozen solid; the alpha beowolf was trapped in treacle to her eyes, its motions stiff and drawn out. Every movement of its foot, every swing of its arms, it all took so long as the air seemed to stick about it and constrain its progress.

It would not constrain Weiss.

She swept her sword down as she sped forwards over a line of glyphs, sweeping past the nearly immobile alpha and dealing out a slashing stroke that was aimed perfectly at a weak spot in its armour. She stopped and turned, and the creature seemed to have barely begun to react.

Weiss conjured glyphs, so many glyphs, a dome of white glyphs sprouting out of the air all around the alpha beowolf who, bound by time as he was, could not react at all.

Weiss leapt. She jumped from glyph to glyph, each white snowflake holding her up in the air, suspending her no matter the angle, and from those platforms, she leapt down upon her prey. Again and again, she fell on him, struck at him, and then leapt away to land with ease upon another glyph.

The beowolf was a nearly stationary target, Weiss had all the time in the world to find the weakspots in its armour, and it died the death of a thousand cuts.

The time dilation glyph, all of her glyphs, flickered out existence as the alpha died, and the dispersal of its ashes sped up noticeably as it did so.

There was silence in the forest clearing, a silence that was broken only by the sound of Professor Port slamming his meaty hands together in applause. “Bravo, Miss Schnee, bravo! You are truly a talented huntress in training.”

Weiss bowed slightly at the waist as she sheathed Myrtenaster once more. “Thank you, Professor.”

“But not yet a great one,” Professor Port cautioned.

Weiss pouted. “The beowolves didn’t give you the chance to answer my question, Professor.”

“No,” he conceded. “I didn’t. But don’t Professor Goodwitch’s lessons provide an answer for you?”

Weiss looked away, glancing down at the soil beneath her feet. “A good leader should know those whom she leads,” she murmured. “But I didn’t want to know them. What I saw… was quite enough for me.”

“And what do you think people see when they look at you, Miss Schnee?” Professor Port asked.

Weiss stiffened at the emphasis he placed upon her name. “I am more than my name would say I am,” she replied; she could have argued to defend that name and the achievements of her grandfather, but to what end? It was not relevant to the discussion at hand. The fact of the matter was, as much as she hated it, that in the eyes of the general populace, her name meant only and exactly what her father had made of it.

“And how will people discover that, if what they see at first is quite enough?” Professor Port asked.

Weiss frowned. “That tells me what I should have done,” she said. “But it doesn’t tell me what I should do now. I mean, I should probably get to know my teammates better, and I’ve made a start with Cardin already, but… what if there is little more to them than what I didn’t care for in the first place? And even that isn’t so… is there any way to make up for all the time that’s been lost?”

Professor Port was silent for a moment. “Do you know what you want, Miss Schnee?”

“Of course.”

“And do you know what your teammates want?”

Weiss glanced down at the ground once more. She had some idea of what Cardin wanted, but only a vague notion of what Flash wanted – she realised with a pang of guilt that she had never really asked. Of Russell, she had not a clue. She had treated her teammates almost as carelessly as her father treated his employees. “Not really, Professor.”

“A team must walk forwards as one,” Professor Port declared. “Which means that all of its members must all walk towards all of your goals, together.”

“You’re saying that I have to help their dreams in order to reach my own?”

“In order that they will help you to reach your own, Miss Schnee.”

Wiess nodded. In the general sense, Professor Port made, well, a great deal of sense. It was the specific case of Cardin Winchester that was troubling her. “Professor… what if one of my teammates’ current desire is… to get back together with his girlfriend?”

Once more, it seemed that Professor Port smiled, and if Weiss had been able to see his eyes, she would have wagered on spotting a glint of mischief there. “Then you had best work out how to play matchmaker, Miss Schnee.”

The Soul of the Weapon (New)

The Soul of the Weapon

The Skyray sat on the docking pad was a little different than the others; in place of grey metal, it was painted in a bright cyan, and it had Rainbow Dash’s symbol – the rainbow coloured lightning bolt emerging from a cloud – daubed upon the nose, alongside the words ‘The Bus’ painted in magenta. In addition to the heavy, eight-barrelled rotary cannon mounted under the nose and the missile pods concealed on either side of the nose that were standard to all the Skyrays Ruby had yet come across, this particular Skyray had a pair of triple-barrelled guns mounted on the wing-tips just beside the engines, while miniature missile pods also hung suspended on either side of the craft.

Rainbow Dash beamed with pride as she and Ruby walked down to the path towards the waiting airship. “Check it out,” she declared. “Isn’t she awesome?”

“Nice,” Ruby cooed appreciatively. “Did you do all the upgrades yourself?”

“Twilight planned them out, and all of my friends chipped in to help,” Rainbow replied. “She’s got extra cannons on the wings, Firefly missiles that can take out anything smaller than an ursa major, and the engines have been given a boost too.”

“So you can carry the extra weight?” Ruby asked.

“Well, there’s that, but also just so that she can go faster,” replied Rainbow.

Ruby grinned. “A custom airship, a jetpack; you must really like to fly, huh?”

Rainbow tucked her hands behind her head. “There’s nothing quite like being up in the air,” she declared. “I mean, I could come up with good reasons why it’s good to have a jetpack, like I can get to the fight quicker, or in the airship, I can take out some of the enemy before I get on the ground, but the truth is… the truth is that there’s nothing as thrilling as flying. When you get up into the sky, anything is possible, you know?”

“Not really,” Ruby admitted. “But I guess that I don’t need to understand that, so long as I know how you feel. And it is a sweet airship. And that jetpack is pretty cool too.”

“I usually call it a wingpack, but yeah, it is cool,” Rainbow said. “I can’t take credit for that one at all, though; Twilight worked on the Wings of Harmony all by herself.”

“Really?” Ruby asked, unable to keep a touch of disappointment out of her voice.

Rainbow glanced at her out of the side of her magenta eyes. “Let me guess,” she said. “You’re one of those who thinks that huntsmen and huntresses ought to make their own weapons.”

“Well, yeah,” Ruby said. “I mean, how else are you going to get a piece of your soul into it?”

“What if it doesn’t have to be your soul?” Rainbow asked in response.

“How do you mean?”

Their footsteps crunched along the path as Rainbow took a moment to reply. “My friend Applejack uses a lever rifle called One in a Thousand,” she said. “It belonged to her pa, before… well, you can guess. She didn’t make it, and her dad didn’t even make it either; it was a special model made by the manufacturer, and her grandpa won it in a shooting contest. It doesn’t have Applejack’s soul in it, from when she was putting all of the pieces together, but it’s got her pa’s sweat on it, and her grandpa’s too, so I kinda think that it’s got the soul of her family in there somewhere, and… maybe that’s enough. And it’s the same with Wings of Harmony; I didn’t make it, but my best friend did, and if it doesn’t have my soul in it, then it has hers: my guardian angel, keeping me company.”

Now it was Ruby’s turn to be silent for a moment. “That’s… sweet,” she allowed, “but not very practical, don’t you think?”

“'Practical'?” Rainbow repeated. “What’s practical about the idea that we need to put our souls in our weapons?”

“Because if we don’t, then how can they channel our aura properly?” Ruby demanded. “That’s why we do it, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know; I didn’t make any of my weapons. I thought it was a… a poetic thing.”

“Well, it is that too, I guess, at least a little,” Ruby conceded. “But it’s a practical thing, too.” She paused. “So why is it that you use regular guns instead of having, you know, a personal weapon? I know that it’s not an Atlas thing, because Sunset put her own weapon together.”

“And she also has an old sword that Pyrrha’s mother gave her; she hasn’t got her soul in that,” Rainbow pointed out.

“That’s also the weapon she’s worst with,” Ruby replied. “Just saying.”

Rainbow snorted. “Okay, sure, you’ve got a point there. As for me… all my weapons were gifts.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow said, reaching into the holster on her right hip and pulling out Plain Awesome. “Look at this.”

Ruby took the weapon from Rainbow’s unprotesting hands. It didn’t look particularly special at first; it was clearly a well-made gun, and the fact that it was shiny and metallic rather than looking a little plasticy like so many Atlesian weapons was a little unusual, but nothing too out of the ordinary, nothing like Crescent Rose or Miló or any of the other bizarre and complex weapons that she saw every day at Beacon Academy. It was only when she looked closer that Ruby realised that the black grip of the pistol was made of ebony. And as she looked closer still, she could see that on the metal of the side of the frame was engraved the words ‘With Gratitude, C, 21 April 2118’.

“'C'?” Ruby asked, looking back up at Rainbow Dash.

"Cadance," Rainbow said. "Councillor Cadenza, that is."

Ruby had heard the name before; Sunset had mentioned it, a while back, when explaining why Rainbow hated Blake; gods, that all seemed like such a long time ago, didn't it? "She's the one… the White Fang, they tried to-"

"Kidnap her, yeah," Rainbow said shortly, an edge in her voice that suggested that she didn't really want to talk about it. She held out her hand, and Ruby mutely pressed the gun into her palm. Rainbow holstered it. "I don't know really know what I did that day to deserve it – Cadance said it was so I could protect Atlas like I'd protected her, but the truth is, I… never mind – the point is Cadance gave me these MPs; top of the line models, but they're still for sale to anyone who can afford them."

Ruby nodded. "And the shotgun?"

"That was a graduation from combat school present from General Ironwood," Rainbow said, a grin springing to her face and banishing her earlier melancholy. "Which is funny because he hates shotguns and thinks I'm an idiot for using one." She paused. "I mean, I am an idiot, but not because of that, I don't think."

"I dunno; I'm not too sold on shotguns either," Ruby remarked.

"Doesn't your sister have one strapped to each hand?"

"Yeah, and I wish she'd put something with a little more range in Ember Celica," Ruby declared. "She can't hit a thing except up close, and I get that's how she fights; it's just… I'd kind of like her to be able to start thinning out the herd from a little further away, you know?"

"Oh, I know," Rainbow replied. "You have no idea how many times the General tried to persuade me to take a rifle instead. A shotgun doesn't exactly fit in the wall of guns."

"But you like it anyway," Ruby said.

"I'm not always going to be in the wall of guns," Rainbow declared. "Yes, Atlesian huntsmen more often operate with combined arms support than other huntsmen, but there are still times when we have to go into some pretty tight-quarter places by ourselves, and I like to have something handy for close encounters."

"Yang probably feels the same way," Ruby admitted. "Or she's just decided that she'd rather let everyone get close so that she can punch them and shoot them at the same time."

Rainbow chuckled. "Hey, Ruby," she said, "thanks for doing this."

"No problem," Ruby said. "Although I don't know if I'll actually be able to help at all. I know my way around weapons, but it's not like I'm an engineer or anything."

"Maybe knowing your way around weapons is what we need," Rainbow said lightly, "and don't worry about getting results; just the fact that you're giving it a shot means a lot."

They were very close to the waiting Skyray now, and the side door facing the school and the path – facing the direction from which Ruby and Rainbow Dash had just come – slid open.

"Ruby!" Penny cried enthusiastically as she stood in the doorway, and she looked as though she would have leapt out of the Skyray, beyond the bounds of the extending ramp, and towards Ruby if Ciel had not had a restraining hand upon her shoulder.

"Penny," she admonished. "Remember: self control."

Penny pouted momentarily, before she curtsied and spoke again in an affectedly polished voice. "It is very good to see you again, Ruby; how are you?"

Ruby sniggered as she climbed the ramp that had just finished extending from out of the airship. She mockingly returned Penny's curtsy with one of her own. "I am in tip top condition, Penny; how are you today?"

"Fantastic!" Penny cried, grabbing Ruby by the shoulders and pulling her into a bear hug. "Thank you so much for agreeing to help Twilight work on my weapons! I know that I'm in great hands with you two working together."

"Glad I could help," Ruby croaked.

"Penny," Ciel warned.

Penny gasped and dropped Ruby who hit the metal of the ramp with a soft thud. "Sorry!" she cried; to Ruby or Ciel or both, it was not entirely clear.

Rainbow grinned as she took Ruby by the arm and helped her up. "Let us in, Penny, and we can get going."

Penny shuffled back apologetically out of the doorway, allowing space for Rainbow and Ruby to get up into the airship. Inside, the Skyray looked no different than the airship that they had flown back to Beacon on after Adam had stolen their railway engine: grey and functional and with kind of narrow seating just between the doors and the cockpit.

Twilight was sat on one of those benches, and she smiled as Ruby climbed aboard. "Hey, Ruby," she said. "Thanks for agreeing to come and do this."

Ruby smiled nervously. "I don't know if I'll actually be able to do anything, but I'm happy to try and help."

"That is all that is required to earn our thanks," Ciel declared, walking across the cabin as the door slid shut and taking the seat next to Twilight.

Ruby sat down on the bench opposite, while Rainbow walked past them all and into the cockpit, disappearing from Ruby's view. Her voice, however, still carried into the main compartment. "Control, this is Rorari Three-Two requesting permission to take off."

"Rorari Three-Two, this is Beacon control; you are cleared to ascend."

"Copy that," Rainbow replied, and at once, the Skyray began to rise; the view from out of the small windows in the side doors didn't change – it was sky before, and it was still sky – but Ruby could feel the airship going up nonetheless, just as she could feel it turning in place before it began to fly in the direction of the Valiant; as it had been explained to her, there was nowhere at Beacon were they could work on Penny and be sure that her secret wouldn't be exposed in the process, so they were heading to the Atlesian flagship for the day where access could be more tightly regulated.

That was probably why Ciel and Rainbow were both wearing their Atlas uniforms.

Penny took the free seat next to Ruby. "When we're done, Rainbow's going to speak to Professor Goodwitch to see if I can join Pyrrha and Yang in their special sparring sessions!" she declared excitedly. "I can hardly wait!"

"Really?" Ruby asked. "That sounds like a great idea, Penny."

"I'm a little surprised that you're not invited," Penny added.

"I'm not the best at sparring," Ruby admitted, a tad shamefacedly. She had built Crescent Rose in order to fight grimm, and her baby was good at it too, but it was a little too big for fighting people, and they had a habit of getting in her guard and taking her out. As a result, she was near the top of the class in the practical sections of Grimm Studies but only average in Combat. "Certainly not in the same league as Pyrrha or Yang."

"I don't know if I'm in their league either, since Professor Goodwitch won't let me fight against Pyrrha," Penny said, with ill-concealed disappointment.

"Sulkiness is very unbecoming, Penny," Ciel murmured. "Your time will come."

"When?" Penny demanded. "And how long do I have to wait for other people to decide that I'm ready?"

"Look at it like this, Penny," Twilight said. "If you and Pyrrha fought now, where all the rest of the year could see you, then there'd be nothing left to wow people with at the Vytal Festival."

Penny gasped. "You really think that I've got what it takes to wow people?"

"I helped build you, Penny; I know you've got what it takes," Twilight said.

Ruby's eyes widened. "You helped make Penny?"

"Yep," Twilight said, without undue modesty. "Doctor Polendina only took on two lab assistants to help him with Penny, and I was one of them."

"Wow," Ruby murmured. "Then what do you need my help for?"

"I'm told you're an expert with weapons."

"And you made a person!" Ruby cried, gesturing at Penny. "What can I possibly know that you don't?"

"That remains to be seen," Ciel said, without malice.

"I'm not going to pretend to know everything," Twilight said. "And as strange as it may seem, coming from an Atlas scientist, weapons aren't my specialty. And don't sell yourself short either; I've never seen anything that quite compares to Crescent Rose in the way you're able to compact it. Which is why I'm hopeful that you'll see something I can't."

"We're all counting on you, Ruby!" Penny declared.

Ruby laughed nervously. "Aha, well-"

"Penny, I don't think that actually reinforced her confidence," Ciel observed. The corners of her lips twitched upwards.

Rainbow Dash guided the Skyray through the air from Beacon to the Valiant, the majestic ship that hung over Vale, a stationary point at the centre of the otherwise fluid and always-moving Atlesian formation. Smaller airships darted about it like flies, but the Valiant was still and permanent-seeming, a fixed addition to the Valish sky. As she climbed into the cockpit beside Rainbow, Ruby wondered if there would come a point at which it would look as strange to not see the Atlesian airships in the sky as it had done to see them there when they first arrived.

She hoped not; not because she had any great objection to the Atlesian presence, but because if that happened, it meant that their friends from the north had stayed much too long.

It meant that things in Vale had stayed dangerous for much too long.

"Torchwick's aboard that ship, isn't he?" Ruby asked as Rainbow flew them in towards the Valiant's open docking bay, the open hatch gaping like the mouth of a great beast to swallow them up.

"Yep," Rainbow muttered. "Snug, secure, and silent."

"Silent," Ruby growled. "So he hasn't talked yet? About anything?"

"I don't know for sure, but I haven't heard anything," Rainbow replied. "Blake hasn't told me that she's heard anything; has she said anything to you?"

"No," Ruby said. "There must be some way to make him talk!"

Rainbow frowned. "There are rules against that kind of thing, even if we can't understand why."

The airship flew into the docking bay and set down there amidst the other airships – Skygraspers and Skyrays for the most part – parked and waiting on the pristinely polished steel floor. The hangar door slammed shut behind them, but the deck was so well-lit that it didn't appear to get even a little darker from blotting out the sun. As the side door opened to let them out, Ruby could see that everything – every airship and piece of equipment – had been cleaned to within an inch of its life, and the uniforms of the deck crew looked as though they had been laundered this morning. Personnel moved this way and that under the supervision of a muscular deck chief, gesturing with both hands as he bellowed out commands. Guards in face-concealing helmets stood erect around the edges of the hangar, their rifles held across their chests.

No one was slovenly, not a man was ill-turned out. A sense of pride radiated from every piece of decking, every ceiling tile, every man and woman here; this was the flagship, and they all knew it, and they all wanted visitors like Ruby to know it too.

Twilight took the lead, and they followed her through the pristine corridors of the Valiant, showing her scroll to the guards stationed at intervals – it must have had her clearance on it – until she had brought them to a white, windowless room with a large table set in the centre of it and various smaller tables around the walls. Tools of all descriptions lay on most of the tables, but others amongst them were bare, gleaming expectantly as they waited for something to occupy them.

There were no chairs. Rainbow Dash made her way to the back of the room and lounged there, leaning against metallic panels; Ciel stood near the door, her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped behind her back.

Penny hopped up onto the large empty table in the centre of the table in the centre of the room.

“Shall we start now?” she asked, looking at Twilight more than Penny.

“Uh, sure,” Ruby replied. “Um… how are we going to do this?”

Twilight ignored her, speaking to Penny in a gentle voice. “Penny, we’re going to put you on standby mode for a little while, okay?”

“Okay,” Penny said quietly. “Will I dream?”

Twilight smiled. “You tell me when you wake up,” she said. She crossed the room, taking off her spectacles in a fluid motion as she leaned forwards to look into Penny’s eyes, their heads so close that their foreheads almost touched. “Do you consent for me to access your command pathways?”

Penny’s voice was unwavering. “My name is Penny Polendina, and I consent.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “Authentication key alpha-one-seven-tango-eight-sierra-two-six. Access root command pathways. Directory: status. Command: stand by.”

Penny sat still, frozen in place where she sat upon the table; her eyelids swept down half-closed, and in the parts of her eyes that were yet visible, the light dimmed to almost nothing.

Ruby stared. “Did you… did you just turn her off?”

“No, I just put her into standby, so that we can open her up without her feeling it,” Twilight replied.

“Is there a difference?”

“She’s not deactivated,” Twilight explained. She started to manhandle Penny, or trying to. “Rainbow, do you mind-?”

“Sure thing,” Rainbow said, getting up from off the wall and briskly crossing the space separating her and Penny. With Rainbow’s help, Twilight succeeded in laying Penny, who did not move to help or hinder them in any way, flat on her chest, face down upon the table.

Ruby frowned. Seeing Penny like this… it felt wrong. It felt absolutely and completely wrong. It made Penny out to be just the machine that she was afraid she was, like she’d confessed to being on the train.

“If you ever doubt that you’re different from the other robots again, just remember that: you can make your own choices; you don’t have to do just what you’re told.”

But that wasn’t true, was it?

“What if she said no?” Ruby demanded.

Twilight looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean just then, before, when you asked if she consented,” Ruby said. “Did she need to say yes to that, or is it just to make her feel better?”

“I would never initiate command functions without Penny’s consent.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Ruby said coldly.

Twilight hesitated. “Yes,” she said softly. “Penny needs to consent in order for me to access her command pathways.”

That… that made it a little better. And Ruby supposed that Penny hadn’t seemed too upset about what was… what was being done to her. All the same, it made her shiver a little bit. “It’s not right,” she murmured. “Penny’s a person; you shouldn’t be able to just turn her off.”

“Put her on standby,” Twilight corrected.

“You say that like it’s a huge difference.”

“It is a huge difference,” Twilight insisted. “If Penny… if Penny were ever deactivated-”

“Twilight,” Ciel reproached.

“Ruby’s been cleared, or she wouldn’t be here,” Twilight replied. She put her glasses back on. “If Penny is ever deactivated, then she cannot be reactivated, not without a new… stimulus of aura.”

Ruby frowned. “'Stimulus'? What do you mean? Penny generates her own aura.”

“Not exactly,” Twilight murmured. “Although we in Atlas have been studying aura from a scientific standpoint in recent years, seeking to decouple the truth from the crudescence of mysticism that has grown up around it, we still don’t know how to create aura sui generis, or even if it’s possible to do such a thing. What we have been able to do, what we have learned is possible… is to split the aura of a living soul, to… cut off, for want of a better word, a part of someone’s existing aura and… transfer it to another subject. Or a host.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “So… Penny’s aura was-”

“Her father,” Twilight said. “He… brought her to life, like any parent does.”

Ruby’s head was spinning. Penny’s aura was really a part of her father’s aura? What did that even mean? “So… can he still-”

“No,” Twilight said. “The aura that he sacrificed belongs to Penny now; it’s bound to her, it belongs to her, it’s even changed colour; to all intents and purposes, it is her aura. It’s even expanded, becoming stronger than the amount that was initially bestowed upon her. So long as Penny is active in some form, then she can sustain that aura… but, if she were ever to be completely deactivated, the light of her aura would go out, and we wouldn’t be able to get it back.” She smiled. “So, as you can see, it’s a pretty big difference between turning Penny off and putting her on standby. She’s still on; she’s just… not here right now. Which means that we can work on her without her feeling it.”

Ruby hesitated. Giving up a piece of your aura? Splitting your aura? She’d never heard of anything like that before. She’d never imagined anything like that before; it was… it was kind of a terrible prospect. Aura was a part of yourself, the mirror of your soul; it was bound up with who you were and what you were; it was tied to your semblance, which also reflected what you were. To sever all of that? To take some kind of science-knife and cut a piece of it off? It was… it made her shiver a little just to think about it.

But, at the same time, to do something like that voluntarily? To give up a piece of your soul to bring someone else to life, that was… that was all kinds of sweet too.

“He must love her very much,” Ruby murmured.

“Hmm?” Ciel said.

“Penny’s father,” Ruby explained.

Ciel nodded. “Indeed.” She paused. “It is a great miracle that Doctor Polendina has wrought, an achievement on par with that of the gods. He is to be commended for it and praised for his…”

“His what?” Ruby asked.

“It does not matter,” Ciel said. “I misspoke.”

Ruby doubted that Ciel had ever misspoke in her life, but she was prevented from saying anything more when Rainbow said, “On par with the gods? Isn’t that blasphemy or something?”

Her tone was playful, teasing, but Ciel’s tone was utterly sincere as she replied, “'As the gods gave life to the dust, so too does the mother give life to the child, so do I say unto thee, men of the north, that the gods walk amongst thee in the forms of thy mothers! O, worship them, revere them, serve them, for they are thy creators, and are owed so much at least.'”

“Who said that?” Ruby asked.

“The Lady of the North,” Ciel replied. “In her second epistle to the Mantleites. She goes on, of course, to say that women have a duty to become the gods of the future by bearing children, but that is less relevant to the subject at hand. The point being that there is nothing blasphemous about comparing the act of creation to godhood; it is an image employed by the Lady herself.”

“Ruby,” Twilight said softly. “I understand that this isn’t what you were intending to see or find out when you came here, so if it makes you uncomfortable, then you don’t have to stay. Rainbow can fly you back to Beacon.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment, looking at Penny lying there on the table, like… but she was going to be lying there no matter what Ruby did.

At least, if she stayed, she might be able to help.

“It’s okay,” Ruby said, at length. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay with you.”

Twilight smiled. “Glad to have you aboard, Ruby.”

Twilight proceeded to dismantle Penny’s Floating Array before Ruby’s eyes, removing the swords from Penny’s back before proceeding to open up the quillon block to reveal the gravity dust engines that kept the blades afloat, the thrusters that gave them direction, and the power pack for the built-in laser.

“And want to make all of this stuff even smaller?” Ruby asked as she regarded the component parts. The anti-gravity system was small enough to fit into the palm of her hand, small enough in fact that she could close her palm around it and feel the heat against her skin. The power pack for the laser had been flexibly designed, curling around the edge of the round quillon block like a serpent coiled around a rock, and a green glow arose from the space between the individual coils of black plastic. The thrusters were about the size of Ruby’s pinky fingers, and she had already noticed that you didn’t see them in action when you watched Penny direct her swords like puppets.

“It’s a tall order, I know,” Twilight sighed. “But we just don’t have enough space for everything that we would like to cram in here.”

“A wireless receiver?”

“Yes, and a more powerful battery,” Twilight explained. “At the moment, Penny’s own core supplies power to activate the gravity dust and the thrusters, only the lasers - which have a much greater consumption - have their own internal power system. If Penny’s swords were wireless-”

“Then you’d need room for a power system,” Ruby acknowledged. “But you’d save space internally because Penny wouldn’t need such a powerful core, right?”

“Theoretically, perhaps,” Twilight agreed. “But I’m not sure that anyone would agree to intentionally powering down Penny in any way; she was always designed with her current power levels in mind, so the fact that she’s having to provide power to Floating Array actually makes her a little weaker than she should be.”

Ruby thought back to Penny’s bone-crushing hugs. “She’s supposed to be stronger?” She folded her arms. “What does she need to be stronger for? She fights from a distance!”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” Rainbow said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruby demanded.

“It means that we’ve all watched you swinging that oversized scythe around, it’s clear that you don’t have a clue what to do when the enemy gets up close,” Rainbow replied. “It’s the biggest thing holding you back from being a first rate huntress.”

Ruby’s mouth twisted in distaste. “You sound like Yang,” she muttered.

“You should listen to her, then, she knows what she’s talking about,” Rainbow said. “The point is, Penny could stand to learn how to throw a punch just in case.”

“Then why don’t you teach her?” Ruby asked.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Penny, uh… Penny’s father… he doesn’t like me very much.”

Ruby blinked. “Really?”

“Really,” Rainbow confirmed. “He thinks I’m a knucklehead. Which, okay, he’s right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about. The point is, he didn’t want me to be Penny’s team leader, he wasn’t afraid to let me know that he didn’t want me as Penny’s team leader, I only have the job because the General pays the bills and I’m not allowed to train Penny. The doc is afraid I’ll… I don’t know what he’s afraid of, what does he think I’m going to her, Twilight?”

“He… Doctor Polendina is afraid you’ll get too rough with her,” Twilight murmured.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Ciel is the one the doc approves of, isn’t that right?”

“It appears that the good doctor finds my manner reassuring,” Ciel murmured.

“Anyway,” Twilight said, “leaving all of that aside for a moment, even if we were to install a smaller, less powerful power core inside Penny, with the position of the core relative to Floating Array I’m not sure how much difference it would make.”

Ruby nodded. That made sense. “Then the answer is obvious,” she said. “Penny needs smaller swords.”

“They already fold in half,” Twilight pointed out.

“And unfolded they’re nearly as tall as Penny is,” Ruby replied. “Why do they need to be so large, and so thick? Penny isn’t using them like normal swords so she doesn’t need greater reach, and they fold up for the laser so it can’t be that. If the blade was cut down to about the length that they are when they’re firing as lasers, then-”

“Then no space would be saved because that is the length that they fold down to,” Ciel pointed out.

“Not if they folded in half when cut down to half-size,” Ruby insisted. “You’d have all that space to play with to put all of the other stuff in there.”

“And a really short sword,” Rainbow said.

“Penny doesn’t really fight with swords,” Ruby declared. “You shouldn’t be thinking of them that way; with how Penny uses them they’re more like… throwing knives. Nobody throws a full size sword-”

“But apparently somebody does wave them around in the air to whack people from the other end of the stage,” Rainbow reminded her.

“Okay, yes, Sunset,” Ruby admitted. “But that’s different-”

“How?” Ciel asked. “It seems to be, not that I expect her to ever admit it, but Sunset Shimmer’s recent performance may have been inspired in part by watching Penny in action.”

“But Sunset could have done that with a knife,” Ruby insisted.

“I’m not so sure,” Rainbow said. “I get what you’re saying, but I still think you need the reach of a sword sometimes; you can’t cut someone’s legs out from under them with a knife.”

“Anything that we come up with here will need to be approved by Doctor Polendina and General Ironwood,” Twilight reminded Rainbow and informed Ruby. “So there’s no harm in putting the idea down and submitting it. Incidentally, Ruby, I hope you wouldn’t mind coming to help me present your suggestions if it comes to that?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rainbow asked.

“If the idea comes from Ruby then there’s no reason she shouldn’t get the credit,” Twilight said. “And she’ll be best placed to make the case since she came up with the concept.”

“Okay, but how likely is Doctor Polendina to agree that a fifteen year old had a better idea than he did?” Rainbow demanded.

“Doctor Polendina will recognise Ruby’s intelligence, and respond to it,” Twilight insisted. “You don’t mind, do you, Ruby?”

“I, uh,” Ruby murmured, unsure if she really wanted to go up in front of General Ironwood and Penny’s rather stern-seeming father and talk to them about anything, even a subject she was passionate about. She’d never really met General Ironwood, but the one time that she’d been in his presence he seemed very strict and straight to business. And Penny’s father… “I don’t know.”

Twilight smiled encouragingly at her. “It’s okay, you’ve got time to think about it. So: a knife with a long handle, do you think?”

“That’s one idea,” Ruby said. “If Penny really needs to have a sword then could you not build some more of the components into the blade itself? There’s enough space with how thick the blades are.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “You are incredible, Ruby Rose.”

Ruby laughed nervously, looking away as she scratched the back of her head. “Uh, thanks?”

“Come here, sit down,” Twilight said, striding over to one of the tables lining the walls, one that was laden with paper and pencils. Twilight’s hand glowed lavender as she pushed a stool out from under the desk, then drew out another for herself. “Do you think that you’re up to helping me with some blueprints? No, not helping, do you think you can draw what you have in mind?”

“Sure,” Ruby said. She’d had to blueprint Crescent Rose and get it approved by a teacher at Signal before she was allowed to actually start making it - and not Dad or Uncle Qrow, either; she’d had to convince someone who wasn’t family - so it was nothing new to her. In fact, as she sat down beside Twilight and got to work, it soon started to feel just like old times.

Team Goals (New)

Team Goals

Russel was the first one to enter the room.

Weiss had not been… okay, yes, Weiss had been waiting there for him. She wanted – and intended – to have a whole team meeting where they could, if not start over, then at least put a better foot forward from now on, but at the same time, she was conscious of the fact that the R in WWSR was the member of the team of whom she knew the least; she knew Cardin far better after a single meaningful conversation than she knew Russel Thrush. And so, she had sat almost idle in the dorm room, reading a book on post-war colonisation efforts that she had gotten out of the library.

Mountain Glenn was every bit the tragedy that Professor Port had intimated. Those poor people, trapped underground. It reminded her a little of some of the stories of mining accidents that left the workers buried alive… but on a much, much grander scale.

As Russel came in, she snapped the book shut, only to realise that it might have seemed more hostile than she had intended it to be.

Russel’s dark eyes glanced around the otherwise empty dorm room. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said anxiously. “I can-”

“No,” Weiss said quickly. “Don’t. You’re just the person that I wanted to see.”

Russel’s eyes widened a little. “Why?”

“Please,” Weiss said, gesturing to one of the chairs pushed underneath the desk on the other side of the room. “Sit down.”

Russel continued to look wary, like a rabbit in the presence of a fox; he looked as though he might run for the door any second as he pulled out a chair and sat down on it, the wrong way with his legs spread out on either side of the chair and his hands resting on the back.

“I don’t bite,” Weiss assured him tartly.

“You don’t normally want to talk, either,” Russel pointed. “At least not to me.”

Weiss sighed. “I know,” she conceded. “And that is why… I suppose that I should start with an apology. I haven’t been a good leader to you – to anyone on this team – and for that, I’m sorry. The only other thing I can say is that I intend to do better from now on. For that reason, we’ll be having a team meeting soon-”

“'Team meeting'?” Russel repeated. “Since when do we have team meetings?”

“Since I decided to start taking my responsibilities seriously,” Weiss declared.

Russel was silent for a moment. “Is this about the Cardin thing?”

“The… 'Cardin thing' brought home to me my failings,” Weiss admitted. “What do you think about what happened to him? About what he did?”

“You don’t care what I think.”

“Yes, I do,” Weiss replied.

“No, you don’t.”

“I will try to care, if you tell me,” Weiss insisted.

Russel snorted. “I think that… the people in the neighbourhood I grew up in were worse lowlifes than any faunus I could imagine, so I guess it never made sense to me to treat faunus like they were worse than us.”

“You went along with Cardin’s bullying of Velvet Scarlatina,” Weiss reminded him.

Russel winced. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did. Not because I thought she was a crook or anything.”

“What did you think?” Weiss asked, fighting to keep the disdain out of her voice.

Russel turned his head away from her, his fingers drumming upon the back of his chair. “Is it true what they say, that Sunset Shimmer came back from Mistral and Pyrrha’s rich mom has started paying her money?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Lucky her,” Russel muttered. “I guess… I suppose I was kind of hoping that if I kept well in with Cardin that something like that might happen.”

“And did it?” Weiss asked.

“No,” Russel said bluntly. “It wasn’t worth the effort pretending to like the guy on the chance that it might.”

“You don’t like Cardin?” Weiss asked, surprised. Another thing I didn’t know.

Russel shrugged. “I don’t dislike him, but it’s not like we have anything in common.”

“I see,” Weiss murmured. “Where do you come from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Anfield,” Russel said.

“Is that a village, or-?”

“It’s a part of Vale, not far from the docks,” Russel said. “You might have drove through it on your way back from that fight.”

“Possibly,” Weiss said. “I didn’t realise. I’ve never been back there.”

“Lucky you,” Russel said. “You don’t want to go back there. You were lucky to be able to fly in there on a locker, and everyone else who went down there either avoided it, or they got really lucky.”

“Why?”

“Because if you went down there dressed like that, someone would steal your sword off your waist before you knew it, and someone else would have the jacket off your back,” Russel declared. “Bunch of thieving scumbags around there.”

“Really?” Weiss murmured dryly.

“Mhmm,” Russel responded. “That person who stole your sword, they’d have sold it on by the time you realised it was missing.”

Weiss folded her arms. “I can’t help but feel there’s some glorification going on here,” she remarked.

Russel shrugged. “According to my great-grandpa, time was when everybody round Anfield way was employed on the docks or in the shipyards; he was an engineer on the tugboats, himself. Only there isn’t so much work on the docks no more, and folks don’t want to rely on welfare handouts, so-”

“They steal things?” Weiss asked.

“It’s a living,” Russel replied. He hesitated for a moment, before a cheeky grin swept over his face. “Although you may be right, and people round there spend more time talking about how they could lift your hair off your head and they ain’t scared of no cops neither than they do actually lifting stuff. But I don’t know, there must be something to it, I reckon.”

“And you?” Weiss asked. “Have you ever…?”

Russel laughed. “If I had hands that fast, then I wouldn’t be getting tossed on my ass by the likes of Pyrrha and Yang every sparring class, would I?”

He had a point there; nothing in his performance indicated that he was that nimble. Even so, the next question that leapt from the tip of Weiss’ tongue was the obvious one: “So what does somebody from a neighbourhood famed for its criminality want to become a huntsman for?”

“What does a princess from Atlas want to become a huntress for?” Russel replied.

“I’m not a princess,” Weiss replied.

“That thing in your hair looks a lot more like a crown than a hairpin, Miss Schnee,” Russel replied. “I may just be a lad from Anfield, but I know that your dad is the richest man in the world, which makes you a darn sight more princess than probably any of the actual princesses if there are any left; do you get what I’m saying?” He leaned forwards, his chest pressing against the back of the chair. “You’re sitting there asking me all these questions, and that’s fine; you don’t know me. But I don’t know you either, so don’t you think that you ought to answer a few of my questions too?”

Weiss nodded. “That’s fair enough,” she agreed. “But I did ask first.”

Russel laughed nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you did, didn’t you?” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I’m named after my granddad, you know.”

“Is that so?”

Russel nodded. “And so are eight of my cousins. You see, my granddad had nine kids, and all of them named their eldest son Russel after him – and I’ve got a sister named Rousseau; it was supposed to be a sign of respect, but he always used to moan about how hard it was telling us apart. That’s why everyone in my family calls me Bert.”

Weiss frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know, because grandpa Russ used to, and so they all started doing it, I don’t know where he got it from,” Russel muttered.

Weiss couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. “So you came to Beacon so that you could be Russel Thrush, and not… Bert.”

Russel snorted. “I suppose that’s part of it; there… there’s other parts of it too.”

“Such as?”

Russel was silent for a while, a silence that stretched out so long that Weiss began to think that he was simply going to refuse to reply, before he said, “By the time that granddad Russel died, he didn’t have no one left but his family, and not even all of that: Grandma Anthea had left him years ago, and Auntie Rousseau asked her granddad to walk her down the aisle on account of she wasn’t too keen on her old man no more. He’d got barred from the pub after he challenged the barman to a fight because he thought he heard him talking about him behind his back; he got barred from the shop because he tried to fight the owner; he didn’t have no friends left because he’d insulted them all – or hit them. He was always a nice bloke to me, and he loved his family, but… when he died, when I went to his funeral, we had to listen to so much bollocks about how well-liked he was, about how many friends he had. I don’t know who she was trying to fool because we all knew it was rubbish. He was a good man, and he worked hard, but nobody cared he was gone except for us. I want… I don’t want that. I want them to care. I want some respect.”

The corner of Weiss’ lip rose slightly. “And I will help you get it, if you let me,” she said. “Just like I mean to see that we all get what we want.”

“Why?” Russel asked.

“Why what?”

“Why any of it?” Russel cried. “Why now? Why should you care?”

“Because I’m your leader, and it’s time I started acting like it,” Weiss said. “And because we succeed when we work together and fail when we don’t. Because walking towards our goals as one is the way that we reach them all.”

“Did you read that in a book?”

“No,” Weiss said. “Professor Port told me.”

Russel’s eyebrows rose.

“When he isn’t talking about himself, he actually talks a lot of sense,” Weiss said.

“I’ll take your word for that,” Russel muttered. He waited a moment. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Come on, I’ve told you my life story; now it’s your turn!”

“Oh, yes,” Weiss muttered. She cleared her throat. “What do you want to know?”

“What’s it like being rich?” Russel asked.

Weiss raised one eyebrow.

“I can dream, can’t I?”

“We had a cake butler,” Weiss said dryly.

Russel blinked. “'A cake butler'? You mean, like, a butler, who just brought cake?”

Weiss nodded.

Russel blinked again. “You’re kidding me! You are absolutely kidding me! You’re pulling my leg because you think I don’t know any better! You’re not serious!”

“Aren’t I?” Weiss asked, her tone giving absolutely nothing away.

Russel stared at her, looking this way and that as though she might have the answer written on her face somewhere if he could just spot it.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Wow. I mean… wow, it must be great having that much money.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Weiss said softly.

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Russel snapped. “Don’t give me that poor little rich girl stuff; whatever it is, I guarantee that it is nothing compared to being actually poor.”

“Everyone thinks they know me because they know my name,” Weiss declared. “And yet, hardly anyone knows or cares to know who I really am-”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Russel interrupted. “You still grew up in a nice big house, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“And I bet you had all the best toys that you could ask for, and anything else besides when you were growing up-”

“No, actually,” Weiss cut him off, gently but firmly.

Russel frowned. “'No'?”

“No,” Weiss repeated. “My father… didn’t believe in play. He was determined that his children should be… accomplished, and the sooner we started learning, the better.”

Russel boggled. “You’re serious? This isn’t a thing like the cake butler?”

“I’m not conceding anything on that, but yes, this is serious.”

“So… no toys?”

“No toys, no playtime,” Weiss said.

Russel leaned back. “Well he sounds like a complete dick, your dad! Um, no offence.”

Weiss covered her mouth with one hand as a most inappropriate giggle escaped her lips. “That’s quite alright. I… would never say it in that way, but… you aren’t wrong.”

“So what did you do all day?”

“I read, I learned to sing-”

“You can sing?”

“And play the piano,” Weiss said. “And the violin. And the flute.”

“So you did have a kind of playtime, then?”

Weiss gave him an old-fashioned look.

“I was only kidding!” Russel said, holding up both hands.

Weiss sniffed. “And, of course, I practiced my skills as a huntress prior to coming here to Beacon.”

“I’m starting to think you came here just to get out of that house,” Russel said.

He was not nearly as wrong as Weiss would have liked, but she said, “I came here to honour my family’s legacy. There was a time when the Schnees did more than just count their money.” Or drink in the garden. She picked up her scroll from where it sat on the bed beside her. “I’m going to ask Flash and Cardin to join us, and then we can talk about how it’s going to be from now on.”

“How is it going to be?” Russel asked.

“Better,” Weiss said.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for both Flash and Cardin to join Weiss and Russel; wherever it had been, it hadn’t been so far away that they couldn’t get back in haste when Weiss asked them to. Cardin sat down on his bed next to Weiss’ own, while Flash, like Russel, pulled up a chair but, unlike Russel, sat in it properly. His back was straight, even as his legs were crossed.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” Weiss said, getting up off her bed and standing as tall as she could. Fortunately, they were all sitting down, so she was able to look down on them for this part. “And welcome to the first team meeting of Team Wisteria; we should have done these a long time ago.”

“Why?” Russel asked.

“Because on the balance of evidence, it seems that we need them,” Weiss declared. “Because I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of Team Wisteria being considered B-league compared to Team Sapphire or Team Iron. I’m tired of us being put in the same bracket as Bluebell. I’m tired of the fact that nobody rates our chances in the Vytal Festival. I am tired…” – she glanced at Russel – “of the fact that we aren’t respected here. And I know that that is partly my fault. I know that, as the team leader, it’s probably mostly my fault. I haven’t paid much attention to some of you… or any attention to some of you, to be perfectly honest. Which is why, if possible, I would like for us to start over, or at least go forward from now as if we have. I am going to lead you better, and we are all going to work together to the kind of success that I think – that I know – that we all want.” She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the room. “I’m not going to pretend that we’re suddenly going to all become best friends; we’re all too different for that. We probably aren’t going to leave Beacon having become a family, with bonds that will last a lifetime. But I promise you that we will leave Beacon as qualified huntsmen and with a record of accomplishment that we can be proud of. So, are you with me?”

“Always,” Flash said.

Weiss smiled gratefully at him.

Russel tucked both his hands behind his head. “It sounds great,” he said, “but some of it also sounds like a pretty tall order. I mean, sure, graduate with good records, awesome, but cracking the top half of the year? Going up against Sapphire and Iron?”

“You don’t think that we can do it?”

“No,” Russel said bluntly. “I mean, they’ve got the Invincible Girl, they’ve got Yang, they’ve got Sunset and her broken semblance-”

“And we’ve got us,” Weiss declared. “And while it’s true that we may not seem to have so much… natural talent at our disposal, I know that we have the materials that we can make something of, if we work together.” Her grandfather had built the world’s greatest commercial empire from the beginnings of nothing but a pick-axe, some charisma, and an educated guess as to where dust might be found; compared to that, unseating their more superficially skilled rivals from the top of the perch should be child’s play. “Tactics and wit will make up for our lack of talent.” She saw that Russel still looked sceptical, so she said, “You don’t have to believe that it will work, at this stage – I hope to prove to you that it can work soon enough – all I ask right now is that you are willing to try. I know that we’ve wasted a lot of time, but we’re still only first-years, and even the Vytal Festival is still months away. If we work hard, then we can be proud even if we fall short, but if we give up now, then we are certain to fail, and we won’t even be able to be proud of trying.” She took a deep breath, as she thought about how her father would hate to hear her say that, or anything like it. She wasn’t allowed to fail; she was a Schnee, and Schnees did not fail.

Except for failing as a parent, apparently.

“Well, okay then,” Russel said. “Let’s give this thing a shot!”

Weiss nodded, turning to the last member of their team, the one who had yet to speak. “Cardin?”

Cardin sighed. “Yeah,” he said, less enthusiastically than Weiss might have liked. “Like you said, we have to try, otherwise. Yeah.”

“Hmm,” Weiss murmured. “I’m glad to have you all on board, because only together can we move forward; only together, mutually supporting one another, can we all achieve the goals that we have set for ourselves, which brings me to my next question: what is that you want. I’m not talking about your dreams or your ultimate ambitions, I’m talking about here and now: what is it that we can actually achieve? What is it that we can help one another to achieve?” She looked at her three teammates. “Flash, what is that you want?”

Flash was silent a moment, looking down at his hands, which were clasped together in this knee. “Immediately?” he asked.

“Or near enough,” Weiss confirmed. “Something reasonably short term that we can get on with.”

Flash nodded. “Then I want to win tomorrow’s exercise,” he said. “I want to beat Team Sapphire.”

Russel’s eyebrows rose. “You want to beat your ex?”

Flash sighed. “It’s not like that-”

“Isn’t it?” Russel replied. “Kinda sounds like it.”

“It… okay, it’s kind of like that, but only because…” He trailed off.

“You can speak freely,” Weiss assured him. “You all can,” she added quickly. “Although… I suppose that I shouldn’t force you to, if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Flash said swiftly. “It’s just… I went out with Sunset for a while, and I think I’ve got a good feel for who she is. And if I’m right, if she is who I think she is, then she’s laughing at me right now; she’s laughing at all of us but at me, specifically, for being such a chump, for being stuck down here while she’s soaring so high.”

“I think you’re underestimating her,” Cardin said.

Now it was Flash’s turn to raise his eyebrows, and to widen his eyes as well, for that matter. “What did you say?”

“I said you’re underestimating her,” Cardin repeated. “I don’t think that she’s laughing at you. She might hate you, but I don’t think she enjoys your misfortune.”

Flash’s eyes, which had been so wide a moment ago, now narrowed. “Are you sure you haven’t been replaced by a White Fang agent?”

“No,” Cardin said. “I just think… I don’t think she’s vindictive towards you.”

“You remember that she basically just ruined your life, right?” Russel asked.

Cardin nodded glumly. “Can you say that I didn’t deserve it?”

Russel shrugged. “I mean… if it had been one of my cousins that you treated like that, I would have kicked your ass, so… I guess I can see your point.”

“You would have kicked my ass?” asked Cardin incredulously.

“Okay, probably not, but I would have given it a try,” Russel replied. “The point is-”

“The point is that you’re being very sanguine about it,” Flash interrupted.

Cardin sighed. “I made my bed,” he declared. “What’s the point in being mad at Sunset? She didn’t ruin my life; I ruined my life when I came out with all that crap, I ruined my life when I decided to hide who I was from Skystar instead of changing who I was. I ruined my life when I decided to be a dick. I don’t know, maybe Penny was right about the faunus and they really aren’t any different from us. Whether they are or not, it… it doesn’t much matter now. And as for Sunset… when I talked to her… she didn’t seem to be revelling in what she’d done. It was like she was… I don’t know how to describe it except to say that, when I asked what made her better than me, she said-”

“'I got lucky,'” Weiss murmured. “She said the same thing to me.”

“That… doesn’t sound like Sunset,” Flash said. “At least not the Sunset I know.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think?” Russel suggested.

Flash didn’t reply to that, but his expression became a pensive one, with his brow slightly furrowed and his forehead lined with thought.

“That doesn’t really matter right now,” Weiss declared. “Unless it changes your decision quite radically… even then, it doesn’t matter that much. Not because what you want is unimportant,” she added hastily, lest he should get the wrong idea, “but because beating Team Sapphire and Team Iron in tomorrow’s exercise is precisely the kind of thing we should be aiming for in order to demonstrate our new commitment and resolve. I suppose the question is, is there something else that you want instead?”

Flash took a moment to consider, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not right now. Not that I can think of.”

“I see,” Weiss said quietly. “Let me know – let us all know – when or if you change your mind. I intend to hold these meetings regularly so that we can update our goals as we, hopefully, progress them.”

“You can tell you’re a businessman’s daughter,” Cardin muttered.

It took Weiss a moment to realise what he meant. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. “Yes, I suppose it is rather… yes,” she admitted. “I see what you mean. But it’s better than nothing, don’t you think? It’s better than me ignoring you and leaving this team to rot in the doldrums, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” Cardin agreed. “I just thought it was… worth pointing out.”

“Hmm,” Weiss murmured. She looked away from him and towards Russel. “As far as Flash’s goal is concerned, once we’re done here, I’ll fill you all in on what I’ve learned about the exercise, and we can strategise in advance, and then get in some training in preparation. But right now: Russel, how about you? What would you like to achieve?”

Russel clasped his hands behind the back of his head. “I don’t know; what kind of things do you have in mind?”

“That’s for you to say, not me,” Weiss reminded him. “Or else it won’t be your goal, will it?”

Russel chuckled. “I guess not. But I don’t know.”

“It can be anything,” Weiss urged, “no matter how small.”

“Do I have to come up with something right now?”

“Yes,” Weiss insisted. “Because if you don’t, then you’ll be helping us with our goals and getting nothing in return, and we still won’t be a team. There must be something?”

“I… I’d like to get a decent grade on one of Oobleck’s papers for once, I guess,” Russel said. “I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a moron.”

“Alright then,” Weiss said. “After we’re done training, we can sit down and see where you’re going wrong and how you can do better.” She swallowed before she turned once more to face Cardin. “And now it’s your turn.”

Cardin didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at Weiss, his face was lowered towards the ground. “I don’t know either.”

Weiss sighed. “You just heard me explain to Russel why this is important.”

“Well, why don’t you tell us what you want then?” Cardin demanded. “What’s your goal that we all have to help you with?”

That was a fair question, and one that Weiss should have seen coming. She placed one hand upon her hip as she thought about it. She would have said ‘beating Sapphire and Iron in tomorrow’s exercise’ except that Flash had already beaten her to it. What else could she do to put Team WWSR back on the map and show that they meant business from now on? Ah, yes, she had it. “I want this team to win a four on four match in Professor Goodwitch’s class.” She was in the top quartile individually – albeit clinging on to her place there somewhat since the arrival of the students from the other academies – but the team had never managed to triumph in an even fight against another quartet of students. If they could turn that around, it would go a long way towards creating some buzz before the Vytal Festival. “We’re none of us terrible fighters, so we should be able to do it so long as we work together. Something else we can work on in our training session, and now back to you, Cardin.”

“You don’t want to know what I want.”

“Yes, we do,” Weiss declared.

“I-”

“Not the time, Russel,” Weiss said.

“I was only kidding.”

“Still not the time,” Weiss replied magisterially.

“Okay, okay, sheesh,” Russel muttered.

Flash leaned forwards, and put a hand on Cardin’s knee. “You want her back, don’t you?”

Cardin nodded glumly. “It’s the only thing I want.”

“Good for you,” Russel said, “but I don’t think-”

“If that’s what you want,” Weiss said. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“What?” Russel cried. “Are you for real?”

“It’s what Cardin wants,” Weiss said simply.

“If I’d known that we could say literally anything, then I would have picked something cooler than a grade!” Russel yelled. “What I really want is a million lien!”

Weiss gave him a slightly frosty look. “Don’t push it, Russel,” she urged him.

“He said it himself; he lost his girlfriend because he was a dumbass!” Russel insisted. “Why should we help him get her back?”

That was not a completely invalid question. It was not exactly their business, and to be honest, Weiss was not without instincts telling her exactly the same thing that Russel was telling her: to leave this alone, to have nothing to do with it, to let Cardin sort this particular problem out himself.

But, as she had suspected, as she had feared, it was the only thing that mattered to him right now.

“Then you had best play matchmaker, Miss Schnee.”

Yes, Professor.

“Because Cardin is our teammate,” Weiss said, “and this is important to him.”

“And if you want a self-interested reason, it’s hard to fight with a broken heart,” Flash added. “Trust me, I know. So if you want the team to do well, then we kind of need to sort this out.”

Weiss smiled slightly. “There, see.”

“You guys don’t need to do this,” Cardin muttered. “Certainly not for the sake of the team.”

“How about for your sake?” Flash asked.

Cardin looked at him. “Do you think I deserve it?”

“I think so,” Flash said.

“Why?”

“Because you told me you did, when you admitted that it was all your fault,” he told Cardin. “If you hadn’t said that, then you wouldn’t deserve a second chance. But you did. So you do.”

Cardin leaned back. “Stop that,” he said.

Flash frowned. “Stop what?”

“Being so… so nice!”

“There’s such a thing as being too nice?”

“Yes!” Cardin said. “And you’re being it!” He hesitated. “But… thanks.” He looked at Weiss. “Thanks.”

Russel huffed slightly. “So how are we supposed to persuade the First Councillor’s daughter to give this bonehead another shot?”

Weiss hesitated. “I…”

“You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“Not yet, no,” she admitted. “But together, I’m sure that we can think of something. We each have a goal before us, a stepping stone on the road to our final goals, our dreams. And so long as we keep moving forward together, then all of our ambitions can be achieved, and all of our dreams can be made to come true.”

Do You Regret (New)

Do You Regret?

Pyrrha was sleeping under the tree.

It was pretty cute, actually.

A part of Jaune felt like a bit of a voyeur, sitting next to her, watching Pyrrha doze under the dappled shadows of the tree, but another part of him told himself that they were going out, and it wasn’t like he was some random creeper who had stumbled across her.

And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t known that he was there before she dozed off.

Besides, to be honest, as cute as she looked while she was sleeping – she was still Pyrrha, after all – it was nothing compared to the way she looked when he could see her eyes and when those eyes lit up her whole face, nothing compared to the way that she moved, so calm and graceful one moment, so fluid and ferocious the next.

But she was clearly tired, and so, Jaune let her sleep.

He had things to think about anyway, even if he was occasionally distracted by glancing towards his slumbering girlfriend.

Pyrrha stirred, and for a moment, Jaune thought that she was about to wake up, but the indistinct murmurings that passed her lips heralded nothing more than that… and then her whole body lolled sideways, so that she was resting upon Jaune’s shoulder.

Jaune froze. He didn’t dare to move, afraid that if he did, then Pyrrha would be disturbed, and he didn’t want that, not when she was tired.

It was a little unfortunate, considering that he was not in the most comfortable position right now, but his armour meant that he couldn’t feel anything really sticking into his back, and it wasn’t like he was uncomfortable.

And it felt pretty good, the feel of her resting against him. If she didn’t mind his shoulder pauldron digging into her arm, then who was he to complain?

One of her teal drops, dangling from her circlet by its chain, fell across her face and nearly touched her delicate nose.

Jaune wondered if he ought to brush it away, but then worried that that would look a bit weird if anyone saw, or if Pyrrha woke up to him poking her face while she slept.

Again, if she could sleep through it, then he wasn’t going to object.

He smiled at her, her chest rising and falling gently as she slumbered, the patches of light falling through the leaves glinting off her gilded bracer and greaves. One gloved hand gripped her red sash tightly, although Jaune wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep that way or had moved to grab it while she slept.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered before he looked away.

The light was falling upon him too, descending down through the gaps in the cover that the tree afforded, but Jaune found it easier when he looked at himself to focus on the shadow rather than the light, at all the darkness that surrounded the sunlit areas and lent a mottled effect to him.

It was unfortunate that the light itself seemed to be principally falling upon the frayed patches of his jeans from where he was wearing them out.

He should possibly – probably – buy some new clothes.

But right now, the fact that at least some of his current clothes were showing their wear and tear was a reminder to him that he and Pyrrha were not of the same class.

And it seemed like, no matter what reasons Lady Nikos might have had at first for disliking him, that difference was the main stumbling block now to her accepting their relationship.

He could say that it was unfair, he could say that it was backward and primitive, he could say that he deserved to be judged for who he was, not who his family was – and Pyrrha had said all of that, in about as many words, at the spa yesterday – but the truth was that Vale wasn’t so different; it wasn’t so overt about it, but wealthy old families like Cardin's still flocked together – Cardin’s grandfather served on the Council alongside the mother of Cardin’s ex-girlfriend, until she found out what a huge racist he was. Perhaps, in Vale, the fact that the Winchesters were old money counted for as much as the fact that they were what Sunset had called old blood, but… well, Jaune felt that the fact that the Nikos’ family were pretty loaded had something to do with Lady Nikos’ pride, alongside all the ancestors that she could point to.

The point was that, although Vale might be less in your face about it, there were probably those in this kingdom who would react the way that Lady Nikos had to someone like Jaune dating their daughter. It was the way that the world was, and complaining about it wasn’t going to help.

And he did want to help. He meant what he had said to Pyrrha: he didn’t want to be the reason why she spent years, her whole life, estranged from her mother. He knew – he had an idea, at least – of what Pyrrha’s heritage, her family history, meant to her, and yet, she had cut herself off from it in a… in a way that Jaune struggled to define – not exactly materially, since her mother hadn’t actually cut her off; not exactly spiritually either, since she remained a Nikos and drew strength from that; but in a strange admixture of the two that came from her self-imposed exile from her family home. It was clear to him that she would not blink first in this battle of wills she was having with her mother; it had brought out a stubborn side in her, or at least a proud one; she would not bend in this. Lady Nikos would have to accept Jaune, at the least.

And it seemed that she was willing to do that – if Sunset reported back to her that Jaune’s lineage made him an acceptable boyfriend. Put like that, it was a little ridiculous, but that was only because the unspoken rules had been spoken aloud.

What was his lineage? Jaune only wished he knew. That was not to say that he was completely ignorant of his family history; in fact, he would say that he knew about as much as any other member of his family living did… but that wasn’t saying a great deal, because so much just wasn’t talked about. He knew that his great-great grandfather had fought in the Great War and had wielded the very sword Jaune himself now wielded, but he didn’t know as what or in what battles he had fought; the same, Jaune knew, was very much not true of Pyrrha’s great-great grandfather. Or any member of her family, for that matter; they probably all had all of their deeds recorded for posterity, while Jaune knew only the bare fact that he had, in some way, fought at some point during the war.

He also knew that after the war, his great-great grandparents had been amongst the first families to found the village of Alba Longa. That was something at least… but it didn’t really compare to founding the capital of a great kingdom.

There was no getting around the fact: when it came to the ancestors that he knew about, he just couldn’t compare with Pyrrha’s long and illustrious lineage; if you limited Pyrrha’s ancestors to the same timespan as the ones he knew of, then… no, Lady Nikos would never play that fair with him, and even if she did, there was still the fact that one of Pyrrha’s ancestors had been Emperor when his had been, as far as Jaune knew, just an ordinary soldier.

Not that there was anything wrong with being an ordinary soldier, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that would impress Pyrrha’s mother.

Which left him with a couple of choices, neither of which was particularly inspiring.

The superficially easy choice was the one suggested by Sunset in the spa yesterday afternoon: fake it. Make something up. Pretend to have an illustrious lineage, far off in the mists of time, and claim that he had noble or royal blood running in his veins from however many generations back. It all seemed very easy and convenient, and doubtless, Sunset thought that she had it all – or most of it, at least – figured.

Something that Jaune had been learning about Sunset, as he got to know her better and as he started to be able to see the cracks in her façade, was that while she was undoubtedly very clever, she was also an absolute fool. Yes, she got good grades, and she had a great wealth of knowledge stuffed away in her head, and Jaune would never deny her intelligence, but when it came to actually making decisions… frankly, she didn’t seem to like using her intelligence and appeared to prefer being ruled by her gut, her passions, or what you might describe as her heart if you were feeling charitable. And sometimes, that was a good thing, or at least it had sometimes worked out well for the team and for Jaune personally – like when she had decided to help him keep his place at Beacon – but at other times, it had led her to do things that were either stupid or horrible or both.

Well… he thought that it was pretty horrible. Probably. Maybe. The more he thought about what she’d done to Cardin… well, it was rough on Weiss for sure that everyone thought she was a racist, and maybe rough on Flash too – Sunset seemed to think he was a racist, but Jaune wasn’t so certain of that – but what about Skystar? Didn’t she deserve to know the truth?

Jaune wasn’t… he thought the answer might be yes, but at the same time, he couldn’t think that it was worth the cost. Not just to Weiss’ own reputation, but also to Beacon itself. Some people had written about institutional racism, others about the threat to free speech in schools; it had been a storm of articles and scrollcasts raging around Beacon with such ferocity that if it had been a real storm, it would have knocked some of these Atlesian cruisers out of the sky by now.

Granted, the storm had died down pretty quickly – astonishingly quickly, in fact; Jaune had expected it to run for much longer; it was as if somebody had called for silence and Vale’s journalists had obeyed – but that didn’t change the fact that it was something that the school probably could have done without. Sunset had lit a bonfire when a candle might have done the trick, and it was exhibit A to prove Jaune’s conviction that she didn’t always make the wisest choices.

All of which was a somewhat long-winded way of saying that Jaune wasn’t convinced that Sunset’s advice was the best advice in this matter, not least because it rested on Sunset’s conviction that Lady Nikos was looking for an honourable exit from the impasse with Pyrrha and that she would grasp eagerly at any lifeline that was offered without looking at it too closely. Jaune… was not so sure about that. It was true that Sunset knew Pyrrha’s mother better than he did – and that they seemed to have a rather cosy connection – but Jaune felt that he knew enough about Lady Nikos to say that she wouldn’t just take his word for it that he was descended from the royal line of Vale and clasp him to her bosom. She was bound to check, and the moment she did, well, not even his transcripts had been good enough to withstand intense scrutiny; it was hard to believe that he could come up with something better when it came to fabricating his ancestry.

Yes, he had a sword that had the same name as a sword that had once belonged to the royal family. So what? A name was a name; it could have come from anywhere. It could have been given in homage. It didn’t prove anything.

Plus… he just didn’t like the idea of lying to Pyrrha’s mother in order to get into her good graces. Even if Pyrrha was in on it, he still didn’t like the idea. Not least because he’d be stuck keeping up the deception for years to come, and that could get exhausting.

He also thought that Sunset hadn’t considered what would happen if Lady Nikos did accept the ruse but it was then found out by other people. Yes, she’d be reconciled with Pyrrha, but she’d also look like a credulous fool, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t that the kind of thing that made you lose face? He remembered how hard it had been to live down that time when Kale had gotten him drunk on apple scrumpy when he was fifteen. How much harder would it be for Lady Nikos to escape having once been tricked by her daughter’s boyfriend into thinking he was someone special?

Jaune knew that Sunset wouldn’t want to put Lady Nikos in that position; he just didn’t think she’d thought this through.

Which could be said of a lot of Sunset’s ideas lately, unfortunately.

Unfortunately for everyone.

Pyrrha stirred, and this time, she filled the promise of her stirring as her vivid green eyes fluttered open, even as she made wordless and incomprehensible murmuring sound. She blinked rapidly, seeming to take a moment to realise where she was; once she did realise, she sat up rapidly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her.

“But you couldn’t move!”

“Why would I want to?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha smiled gratefully at him. “You’re much too sweet.”

“And you were too tired,” Jaune replied. “You had a rough night last night.”

“You… heard,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You don’t usually toss and turn like that,” Jaune told her.

Pyrrha winced. “Did I keep you awake? I didn’t mean to; I hope that I didn’t disturb everyone else; it’s just that-”

“It’s okay,” Jaune repeated. “I’m not the one who fell asleep, remember?”

Pyrrha chuckled, a blush rising to her cheeks. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” she admitted. “It’s just that it’s so warm out here that I… I suppose I just felt rather drowsy all of a sudden.”

“Is everything okay?” Jaune asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Everything’s fine; I just… I suppose that I’ve had things on my mind.”

“Me too,” Jaune murmured, his tone becoming a little melancholy. “But... you go first.”

“Are you sure?”

Jaune managed a slight smile. “I insist,” he said.

Pyrrha’s smile widened, if only for a moment. “I’m worried about Phoebe,” she said, “and about this business with Soteria and about… about what will happen next.”

“What will happen next?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t know; that’s what worries me,” Pyrrha replied candidly. “But I feel… I feel as though something must, and I… I hate the fact that I can’t see it. Just as I hate the fact that this is all my fault.”

“Your fault?” Jaune asked. “This isn’t your fault-”

“Phoebe is my…” Pyrrha trailed off. “My…”

“Rival?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha hesitated. “I think that Arslan would be rather upset if she heard me describing Phoebe as my rival, or even a rival. She might think that I was drawing a false equivalence between the two of them.” She paused. “Of course, Phoebe would hate me if she heard me saying that.”

“It sounds a little like she hates you already,” Jaune pointed out.

“Probably,” Pyrrha admitted, her tone melancholy. “And that’s just the problem, really. I… I am the one that she hates. The one that she hated. And yet, because I’m on your team, then… well, now she hates Sunset too, and there’s a chance that you and Ruby may get involved as well, and-”

“And you can ask Sunset or Ruby, and they’ll both tell you what I’m about to tell you now,” Jaune declared, squeezing Pyrrha’s hand reassuringly. “That we wouldn’t trade having you on our team for anything, certainly to avoid trouble with the likes of Phoebe Kommenos.”

Pyrrha looked as though she desperately wanted to be reassured by this, but didn’t quite dare to let herself believe it. “You say that before-”

“And we’ll say it after,” Jaune insisted. “After all, we’ve faced the White Fang; what can another student possibly do to frighten us?” He smiled and hoped to provoke a smile in Pyrrha in return.

He failed. Her face remained downcast as she said, “If anything were to happen to you because of my feud, I-”

“We both know that you would beat yourself up if any of us were hurt, no matter what the cause,” Jaune informed her.

Pyrrha did not deny it. “Is that so wrong of me, to care for you?”

“No,” Jaune whispered. “I didn’t say it was. In fact, I think – no, I know – that I’d be exactly the same way. If you were hurt or worse, I… but that doesn’t mean that it’s your fault; just because you’re the one that she hated first doesn’t mean that you deserve to be hated or that you brought anything upon us. Just because Phoebe can’t get over the fact that you beat her in the arena doesn’t mean that she’s justified in… whatever she does.”

“The fact that she is not justified will not erase the harm she does,” Pyrrha muttered darkly.

That was unfortunately true. “If it helps,” he said, “I don’t think Professor Ozpin is as easy to fool with good grades and a smart turnout.”

“No?”

Jaune shrugged. “He kept me in school, didn’t he?” he asked. “When I was up there, in his office… yes, Sunset really helped me out by lawyering the rules like she did, but I think…” He remembered before he had been called to the headmaster’s office, before Cardin had tried to out him to the authorities, when Professor Ozpin had come upon him before the statue of the huntress. “He knew,” he declared. “He absolutely knew that my transcripts were fake, and maybe Professor Goodwitch did too, but Professor Ozpin… he really wanted to keep me here, and Sunset just gave him an excuse. And he let Ruby in two years early, when a lot of headmasters wouldn’t in spite of what she did. It’s like… it’s like he can see past grades and appearance and see… I don’t know, see what’s underneath.” He chuckled. “Or maybe I just want to think I’m special.”

Now that raised a smile out of Pyrrha. “You’re the most humble person I’ve ever met.”

“Considering the kind of people you grew up with, that doesn’t surprise me too much.”

Pyrrha giggled a little, covering her mouth with her free hand. “I was trying to… but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Jaune didn’t feel the need to answer that. “We can handle Phoebe,” he assured her, “I’m serious; we’ve dealt with a lot worse. She might be mean, but I also meant it when I said that I’m sure if she tries anything, the professors here will see through her.”

Pyrrha nodded her head slightly. “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m more worried about…”

Pyrrha waited. “Go on.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Oh, no,” Pyrrha said. “You listened to me and my worries; now I get to listen to you.”

“Well, alright, you asked for it,” Jaune reminded her. “I was… I guess I wasn’t worrying so much as I was thinking, about your mother and about what she wants to find out about my family history.”

“And about what Sunset suggested, that you invent an illustrious lineage for yourself,” Pyrrha surmised.

“Was it that obvious?”

Pyrrha placed her free hand on top of Jaune’s hand. “Just a little,” she said softly.

Jaune smiled at her, then looked away, his gaze running out across the courtyard. “You… you’re incredibly rich,” he said.

“I’m no Weiss Schnee,” Pyrrha said.

“Nobody else is, but you don’t need to be a Schnee to be rich,” Jaune said. “Your ancestors founded a kingdom. They ruled that kingdom for centuries. And I’m just…” He looked back at her. “Has it never once crossed your mind that your money or your name are all I care about?”

“No,” Pyrrha said simply.

Jaune blinked. “No? Never?”

“Never,” Pyrrha said. “Whether that makes me a naïve girl or a hopeless romantic, I don’t know, but… no, I’ve never doubted you that way. I’ve always known… I’ve always trusted you, Jaune. I feel safe with you. I can’t imagine you ever hurting me.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. He wasn’t sure that it was possible to respond to that. What could he say to such a declaration? He trusted Pyrrha, but it was easy to trust someone who was taking such a step downwards to be with you; the only ulterior motive Pyrrha could have had was if this was part of some long term plan to prank him for his unrealistic expectations, and that… well, that just wasn’t Pyrrha’s style, was it?

“I… Pyrrha, you’ve got to stop saying these things, they make me feel really inadequate by comparison.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “I just meant… you’ve got such an open heart that it… it kind of awes me sometimes. It humbles me.” It amazed him, a little; in her own way, Pyrrha was every bit as innocent as Ruby, perhaps more so; it was a little incredible that nobody had hurt her in the past, taken advantage of her open heart.

Of course, in spite of what she said, an open heart doesn’t have to mean naïve. After all, she had been pretty firm in rejecting her mother’s preferred suitor, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t smell a rat; she just didn’t pick up any kind of noxious stench from Jaune.

He took that as a compliment.

“I don’t want to lie to your mother,” he said.

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I didn’t think you would.”

“How…?” Jaune hesitated. “How do you feel about that?”

“I… I’m glad to hear you say it,” Pyrrha replied. “It’s not that I want this… nothing would please me more than for my mother to accept you, but I want her to accept you as my choice, as the man I chose, not as the phoney heir to the throne of Vale. Sunset means well, but she still doesn’t understand why I had to do what I’ve done. If you win her acceptance based on a lie then… I fear she will not learn anything.”

“I think that’s going a little far,” Jaune said. “If she hadn’t learned anything, then she wouldn’t have asked Sunset to look into my family in the first place.”

“I… suppose that’s true,” Pyrrha conceded. “She was not willing to listen at all before.”

“I was thinking…” Jaune said. “It’s a longshot, I know, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but I was thinking that Sunset and I could actually research my family history, see what we can dig up. I don’t know much about my family’s past beyond the Great War, and I don’t know if there’s anything to find, but maybe there is. Unless… you don’t want me to?”

“Don’t want you to?” Pyrrha repeated. “Why would I want to stop you?”

“Well… say it turned out that one of my ancestors was something special?” Jaune suggested. “I mean, it probably won’t happen, but what if it did? If your mother accepted me because of that, then… I guess-”

“It’s not so important if it’s the truth,” Pyrrha informed. “I know what I said, and I must admit that if my mother accepted you because you turned out to be the long lost heir to a duchy or the like, then I would be… I wish that she would simply accept you because you are the man I love, brave and kind, but you will still be that man and still be brave and still be kind whether you are the descendant of a king or a duke or a farmer. I would not, could not, ask you to hide who you are simply so that I can try and make a point to my mother.” She smiled. “After all, I’m the last person who could complain about anyone else having a distinguished lineage.”

Jaune grinned, although it swiftly faded from his face. What Pyrrha was saying was that she didn't mind what the truth turned out to be; she just didn't want him to lie. That cut him to the quick with a sharp reminder of the fact that he was, indeed, lying to her about something: specifically, he was lying by omitting the fact that he knew that Sunset was behind the exposure of Cardin and Bon Bon and, more importantly, what had been done to Lyra.

More of Sunset's terrible decisions. He hadn't intended to tell Pyrrha, but… now that he was in this situation, how could he not?

"It was Sunset," he said.

"Excuse me?" Pyrrha replied.

"Sunset was the one who released that audio of Cardin and Bon Bon, and Sunset was the one who revealed all that stuff about Lyra too," Jaune confessed.

"Are you sure?"

Jaune nodded glumly. "It's what we talked about alone, when you and Ruby went on ahead to breakfast. She… admitted it, eventually."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment; silent and almost without expression. "I… I see. How long have you known?"

"I didn't know for sure, not until she admitted it," Jaune said. "I didn't want you or Ruby to know."

Pyrrha frowned. "Why not?"

"I was… I was worried that you wouldn't be able to forgive her," Jaune replied quietly.

"I could always forgive Sunset," Pyrrha said, her tone containing a very mild reproach. "Provided that she was truly contrite."

"I think she is," Jaune said. "She seemed to understand… I mean, I can't judge what she did to Cardin; I'm not a faunus, and so I don't think that I can be the guy to say that what he said wasn't so bad, you know?"

"No, I agree with you completely," Pyrrha murmured. "And, as for myself, if you had such a terrible secret, then I would prefer to know about it; for all that it would break my heart if you turned out to be someone other than who I thought you were, I would still rather know than be fooled by a false happiness." She paused for a moment and rose to her feet ere she spoke again. "But that was a terrible thing to do to Lyra."

Jaune started to get up himself. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going to find Sunset," Pyrrha told him. "As I said, I will always forgive her if she's contrite, but actions speak louder than words. I need to know that she not only understands what she did was wrong but that she regrets it too. And that means that she has to prove it."

"Do you regret it?"

Sunset's ears pricked up at the sound of Pyrrha's voice. She, Sunset, was in the garage, with the door open to admit as much of the sunlight as possible while she did some tuning up on her motorcycle. She was currently on her back, jacket off and arms stained with oil and grease, and had just finished reattaching a particularly troublesome nut when she was summoned.

She looked up. Pyrrha stood in the doorway, casting a shadow inside the garage. Her expression was stern, and unyielding as her armour.

"Hello to you too, Pyrrha," Sunset replied as she sat up. She levitated a rag into her glowing hands and began to wipe the oil off with it, or tried to at least.

Pyrrha's expression did not alter, nor did her tone become any less stony. "Do you regret it?"

Sunset glanced from Pyrrha to Jaune. She had an idea of what this was about, an idea that made her stomach chill, but she had to ask anyway, "Do I regret what?"

"What you did to Lyra," Pyrrha explained in a voice as sharp as Miló.

So that was what this was all about. Sunset felt a pang of irritation towards Jaune, who had, if not said that he would keep it to himself, at the very least implied it. But it was hard to be too upset with him just because he had declined to keep secrets from his girlfriend. You were supposed to be honest with your girl, after all; at least Sunset thought that you were. Honesty was one of the pillars of a relationship, at least if you were the man in it; girls ought to be allowed more leeway to take account of the fact that excellent ladies like Sunset, Pyrrha, and Blake were so often lowering themselves to the level of lunkheads like Flash, Jaune, and Sun.

At least, that was how Sunset saw it. So, even though he had – arguably – betrayed her, Sunset couldn't bring herself to be too upset about it in this instance; he was showing that heart of gold, after all.

You're a lucky girl, Pyrrha.

And besides, what she had done was deserving of censure. She had already acknowledged that to Jaune, even if she hadn't acknowledged it to Blake… Blake whom she hadn't spoken to since she had dropped the audio. Sunset abruptly found herself wondering if those two things might be connected. Was Blake mad at her? Rainbow seemed to have gotten over her disgust at what Sunset had done to Lyra, at least in the sense of not doing anything about what Sunset had done to Cardin and Bon Bon, possibly because Cardin and Bon Bon had both said such outrageously racist things, but Blake? Sunset had no idea how Blake felt about it.

Should I ask her?

How badly do I want to know the truth?

That was not, in any case, something to worry about right now. What was something to worry about right now was Pyrrha, standing in front of her, knowing the truth and looking none too happy about it.

Sunset got to her feet, if only as a stalling tactic. It was… it should probably have been an easier question to answer than it was. Did she regret what she had done to Lyra? It was strange, but she regretted what she had done to Cardin far more, if only because of the way that she had destroyed his relationship – yes, destroying his relationship had been the point of the exercise, but she was allowed to hold two contradictory ideas in her head, as demonstrated by the ease with which she did so. She regretted the hurt that she had done to him, regretted it so much that she was resolved to make it right even if she didn't know exactly how to do so. But Lyra? What she had done to Lyra didn't figure in her mind in the same way, though she had had no cause to hurt Lyra and some at least to inflict pain on Cardin. And yet it was the vengeance earned that troubled her more than the cruelty callously meted out.

She would like to say it was because Lyra didn't seem to have really suffered anything worse than a little temporary embarrassment, but the truth was it was probably as much that she saw herself in Cardin's pain.

I'm a terrible person, aren't I?

None of that, of course, was what Pyrrha wanted to hear. Pyrrha wanted to hear – or Sunset guessed she did – that Sunset did, in fact, regret it. And she did regret it. She regretted it less than the more deserved thing that she had done, but nevertheless… she could acknowledge that it had been a cruel thing, and undeserved; it had been an unworthy thing, action for the sake of action, punishment by proxy, hurting Lyra because she wanted to hurt someone.

"Yes," she said. "I regret it. I should have just challenged Bon Bon to a duel and kicked her ass."

Pyrrha did not demur from that. "That would have been a more acceptable way of airing your grievance," she agreed. "But you didn't."

"No," Sunset agreed, her voice quiet and brittle. She almost wanted – no, she did want – to skip this conversation and get to the point where Pyrrha explained what she had planned to do next. Had she just lost a friend? Would the team be divided in two for the second time? What did Pyrrha mean to do? "No, I didn't."

"Why not?" Pyrrha demanded. "How could you do something so viciously misguided?"

"Because I wanted to send Bon Bon a message: leave my friends alone," Sunset said. "Isn't the duty to avenge a friend supposed to be a sacred one?"

"Revenge for death or injury, not humiliation that Blake shrugged off as utterly unimportant," Pyrrha declared. "And revenge upon they who did the injury, not their friend in turn. What did Lyra have to do with any of this?"

Sunset looked away. "None," she said. "None at all except that, as you say, she was Bon Bon's friend. I shouldn't have done it. Jaune helped me see that I shouldn't have done it. As I said, I regret it."

"Do you?" Pyrrha asked.

"I just said so, didn't I?"

"Then show me," Pyrrha insisted. "Go to Professor Ozpin and admit what you did."

Sunset said nothing for a moment. Now they had reached the end of the conversation, and she had not expected this. "You… want me to confess?"

Pyrrha nodded, a slight, and slightly stiff gesture. "If you are contrite, then you'll admit what you've done and take the consequences for it."

"And then what?"

"And then I will say nothing more about it," Pyrrha declared. "And Ruby doesn't have to know."

Sunset's eyes narrowed at the pretty clear implications of that. "That sounds almost like blackmail, Pyrrha," she said.

"You asked for this, Sunset," Pyrrha informed her.

"By doing what I did?"

"No," Pyrrha replied. "In the Bullhead, on the way back from the Forever Fall."

The Forever Fall? But that was… oh. Oh, right.

"Just… in the future, if I'm becoming too much of a jerk… if I'm getting too awful… stop me."

Sunset snorted softly. "So, this is how you're going to stop me?"

"I'm hoping that we don't have to stop you," Pyrrha murmured. "Jaune says that you've already realised that you were walking down a dark path."

"But you need proof?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha hesitated before she said, "Actions speak louder than words."

That was true enough. It was also true that Pyrrha was really being quite reasonable. Rainbow Dash, Blake, even Jaune had all been too soft on her, giving warnings that they had not or would not follow through on. Although none of them were Cardin, in that none of them relished the power they had over Sunset, they had all made the same mistake of failing to match their own words with actions and so shown themselves to be toothless.

Pyrrha was not making the same mistake. Pyrrha was getting straight down to business.

This is why she is the best of us; she strikes without hesitation because she has a clean conscience and a spotless intent.

And she was doing so while still offering Sunset mercy. For Ruby to remain ignorant – she would have to explain whatever punishment Professor Ozpin chose to mete out to her, but that was not impossible – for Pyrrha to put the matter aside as though she had forgotten, that was more than Sunset deserved and more than she had a right to expect.

And Sunset did regret it. If there were other things that she regretted more, then, well, she could confess those too.

To Professor Ozpin… and to Twilight, too.

And Twilight will tell… her.

Dear Princess Celestia… I haven't changed at all.

The elevator ground slowly.

Sunset was sure that it was doing it on purpose.

And in the meantime, as she waited for the lift to complete its ascent to Professor Ozpin’s office – why did he have to sit up so high? – she was trapped within this metal box, rattling up the Emerald Tower, with nothing to do but think.

Or brood.

She had a great many things to think or brood upon.

She did not want to go and see Professor Ozpin. This would be the first time that she had gone up to his office since she had started to put the pieces together about what he knew, since she had started to wonder if his designs on Ruby or Pyrrha might be to turn them into one of his prophets. It was the first time since she had had something approaching real evidence to back up her suspicions of the man.

Would he realise that? Would he be able to tell? Sunset knew that the old man knew more than he let on, but she had also suspected – or feared – that he was able to perceive more than he ought to have. He knew about her magic – no surprise there – but he also… there was something about him, as if he could look into her soul. She didn’t like it. She never had.

Just like she’d never liked him even before she had solid cause to dislike him and to fear what he intended for her friends.

Her friends. The reason why she was inside this elevator cab, being born with painful, agonising slowness towards a man she did not want to see, because Pyrrha had asked it of her.

Pyrrha had done more than asked it; Pyrrha had demanded it as the price of her continued friendship.

Sunset frowned. That was… not fair. That was an interpretation born out of fear and dislike of Professor Ozpin so strong it sought to blame the one responsible for sending her to Professor Ozpin. But it wasn’t fair to think of what they had done like that. It might be literally correct, but that didn’t mean that it was right.

No, no, it wasn’t even correct; Pyrrha hadn’t threatened to turn away from Sunset… although she had pretty strongly implied it.

But Sunset had asked for that, when she asked them to stop her.

I didn’t mean that.

I didn’t know what I meant.

Was I expecting them to physically stop me? To beat me down until I cried for mercy?

That might have been preferable to this.

Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just get a couple of detentions or something.

And Ruby doesn’t have to know.

Pyrrha is doing the right thing. Jaune, Blake, Rainbow Dash, they’ve all been too soft on me. This is the kind of medicine I understand.

That doesn’t make it taste any better.

Sunset folded her arms and leaned against the back of the elevator. She glanced at the wall to her right; her reflection looked back at her from the metal panels; it was distorted, twisted like a funhouse mirror. Her reflection seemed to be wearing a sour expression nonetheless.

“Is it worth it?” her twisted reflection asked.

Sunset wrinkled her nose. “Is what worth what? Be specific?”

“You know what I mean,” her reflection replied. “I’m you, remember? Is having friends worth all this effort, all this aggravation?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Because I have people that I can depend on, that’s why!”

“Can you?” her reflection demanded. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m making amends.”

“You’re submitting to Pyrrha’s will.”

“There’s nothing wrong with submission as long as the one that you’re submitting to is just.”

“That doesn’t mean you like it.”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.”

“You’re abasing yourself!” her reflection sneered. “What happened to your pride?”

“I am as proud as ever.”

“Hardly. You’re letting precious Pyrrha push you around-”

“I’m proving to her that I’m not a bad person,” Sunset declared. “I’m proving to myself that I’m not a bad person.”

“We were better off by ourselves.”

“No, we weren’t.”

“Nobody to please. Nobody to answer to.”

“Nobody to care about us. Nobody to help us out.”

“When was the last time any of our so-called friends helped us out?”

“They’re doing it right now,” Sunset muttered.

“We do so much for all of them,” her reflection proclaimed. “We save their lives, we fight their battles, and all that we get from them in return is more and more hassle and demands upon us. ‘Sunset do this,’ ‘Sunset do that,’ ‘Sunset let me take all the glory-’”

“I don’t give a crap!” Sunset snarled, slamming her fist into the wall. “We were not better off by ourselves, okay? Let’s be honest if we’re going to do this: we were miserable and lonely, and we hated every second of it! So I don’t care what you have to say or what you think or what we have to put up with, we’re sticking to it because it’s still better by ten miles than what we had before!” She took in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “We’re sticking to it because I care about them, and that’s enough. That’s enough. I care about them, and I’m going to stay with them, and if you don’t like it, then tough.”

The elevator door slid open.

“Miss… Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked; he had gotten up from his desk and looked as though he had been walking towards the elevator as it opened; he leaned upon his cane as he bent forwards to take a look inside. “Are you alone in there?”

Sunset’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, Professor. Is that a problem?”

“Not a problem, Miss Shimmer; I simply thought I heard raised voices coming from inside.”

Did I say all of that out loud? Sunset cleared her throat loudly, running one hand through her fiery hair. “Nope, nobody here but me, Professor,” she declared with faux good cheer in her voice as she stepped out of the elevator cab. “Not even me in there any more.” She laughed nervously. “It must have been the creaking of the cables.”

“Probably,” Professor Ozpin appeared to acknowledge, in a tone that gave little away as to whether he believed her or not. “Now, what can I do for you, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset let the question hang in the air for a moment, lingering like one of the Atlesian cruisers visible out of the windows. She didn’t meet his eyes. She took another step forwards, and her tail twitched as she clasped her hands together behind her back. “I… I have something to tell you, Professor. It… it was me. I released the audio of Cardin and Bon Bon to the media… and I released Lyra’s personal data too.”

Professor Ozpin was still for a moment, and silent. He gazed down upon her, his grey eyes cloudy and inscrutable. His voice, when it came, was soft; Sunset almost had to strain to hear him. “I see. May I ask why?”

“I wanted to punish them,” Sunset said. “For what they did to Blake.”

“What did Miss Heartstrings do to Miss Belladonna?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset bit her lip. “Nothing,” she confessed. “I did that to injure Bon Bon by proxy.”

“I see,” Professor Ozpin repeated, his voice becoming sterner. He turned away from her and walked around and then behind his desk. However, he did not sit down; he remained standing, set above Sunset. “And why do you tell me this now?”

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Professor,” Sunset replied, taking a couple of steps closer to his desk, under the grinding gears of the clock.

“On the contrary, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin, “I consider it very much my business why you decided to torment a fellow student who had done you no wrong and then decided to confess the fact.”

“'Torment' is a harsh word, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin raised one grey eyebrow into the recesses of his bangs. “You will forgive me for saying so, Miss Shimmer, but you seem more contrite about what many would see – considering what Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure said to Miss Belladonna – as the lesser offence.”

Sunset shuffled uncomfortably in place. “It is the offence that I regret more,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Sunset hesitated. “Because I destroyed a love,” she said. “Because a flower bloomed in the garden, and I have poisoned it. That was, I confess, my intention for my actions, but now that I behold the fruits of that same… I am disgusted with myself.”

“And yet you are not disgusted with yourself for having attacked someone who did you no wrong, by exposing her secrets to the school, by holding her up to mockery.”

“Cardin has suffered by my actions more than Lyra has,” Sunset declared. “I am not aware that her true friends have forsaken her, that her teammates hold her in any less affection than they did before, that she endures anything more now than a little light teasing. Cardin… Cardin has lost something rare and beautiful.”

“So your regret is proportional to the consequences of your actions, as you perceive them, and not upon the morality of the act itself?”

“I’m aware that what I did was wrong, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sunset replied. “But… yes, Professor, my regret is from the harm, not from the act. Why should it be otherwise? If I throw a punch at someone in anger, should I not regret the blow that lands more than that which missed?”

“Some might argue that you should regret that blow that did not deserve to fall more than that which did,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Some might argue that what Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure said and planned to do was so reprehensible that they, in the common parlance, had it coming.”

“I’m sure that some people do, Professor,” Sunset replied. Rainbow and Pyrrha amongst them. “I don’t know if you feel that way as well, and I don’t expect it to influence how you punish me – or what you punish me for – but it’s how I feel, and I… I don’t see the point in lying about that.” Not to you, at least.

Now, at last, Professor Ozpin took his seat. “I see,” he murmured. “I must confess that I am not blind to the merits of your position, Miss Shimmer; there are certainly times when I too weigh up the consequences of my actions and decide that, although the act itself may seem disreputable to an outsider, it has nevertheless accomplished a worthy goal or avoided a much greater harm.”

Is that how you justify all of this? Sunset wondered. All of the lies, the hiding away of the world’s magic – and with it, all the world’s hope also – the stuffing away in boxes of people who would otherwise have flown far and free, the keeping of secrets from Ruby, the using people to advance your agenda? Is it all justified in your mind because it avoids much greater harm?

It turned out that there were limits to Sunset’s consequentialism, and those limits started where the actions touched her friends.

I’m a hypocrite. Who would have guessed?

Her eyes narrowed a little. Why had Professor Ozpin felt the need to tell her that? He had no need to explain himself to her, especially not in these circumstances. So why say it? Why let her know that he agreed with her position, at least in part? Why should he go out of his way so?

Unless it’s because he knows I’m onto him and he thinks that he can make me understand that way. Sunset’s tail shivered, brushing against both her legs in turn.

And the worst part is that I can’t even ask him why he’s telling me this to get a feel for whether I’m on the right track or not.

Does he know I know, or doesn’t he?

“It is for that reason,” Professor Ozpin continued, “that I have turned a blind eye to some previous malefactions of yours, Miss Shimmer. Your removal of Mister Arc’s ostensible transcripts from the records, for one thing, was justified by a focus upon consequence. It was better that Mister Arc remain at this school than that you should be punished for what was, after all, an act of theft.”

He does know! Sunset felt as though metal jaws were closing in on either side of her; it was all that she could do not to teleport away. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Very well, Miss Shimmer, we will maintain that fiction, if you wish.” He did not mention Summer Rose’s diary; whether he didn’t realise that was missing too or he didn’t want to discuss the implications of the fact that he had had the journal in the first place – after all, if you wanted to talk about consequences, it was hard to argue that Ruby knowing a little more about her mother wasn’t some sort of net good – Sunset did not know. But she found herself glad that he did not bring it up.

His tone became serious once more as he added, “However, I am afraid that I cannot overlook this new offence on the same grounds.”

“I wouldn’t expect you too, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply immediately. He sat back in his chair and kept her waiting. Princess Celestia had sometimes done that, in an effort to give Sunset more time to think about what she had done and why it had been wrong.

It hadn’t always worked, and Sunset wasn’t sure that – if that was Professor Ozpin’s intent – it was working now. She couldn’t just change how she felt so swiftly and without thought. She did feel more guilty about what she’d done to Cardin than what she’d done to Lyra, and whether that was because of consequentialism or because she felt more kinship with Cardin… it wasn’t something that she could just wish away because she’d been told she should.

“What you have done is a serious matter, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin reminded her.

“I’m aware, Professor.”

“Are you?”

“I’m aware of the severity; I just don’t feel it caused… as much bother as it might have,” Sunset replied.

“How much ‘bother’ was it your intent to cause?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Enough that Bon Bon wouldn’t have dared say those things to Blake,” Sunset said.

“Hmm,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Do you remember what I told you, Miss Shimmer, on the night of your first encounter with Mister Torchwick?”

Sunset nodded. “Nobody comes to Beacon a hero, Professor.”

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I daresay that the girl I met that night would not have done these things… because she would not have cared enough to intervene on Miss Belladonna’s behalf.”

Sunset sighed. “There is much truth in what you say, Professor; I have… learned to care for others since I have been here.”

“But not to care wisely, or to channel those feelings into more productive avenues,” Professor Ozpin remarked coolly.

Sunset inhaled through her nostrils. “Perhaps not, Professor, but there are still three years and more to come.”

“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin said softly.

Sunset’s ears pricked up. 'Perhaps'? What do you mean, 'perhaps'? Was he going to expel her? Was he going to kick her out? Was her adventure going to end here? “Professor, I… I came to you! Surely that entitles me to a little consideration.”

“Surely you agree, Miss Shimmer, that some acts are beyond consideration?”

“I’m not sure that I do, Professor; I certainly don’t think my acts are amongst them.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin replied. “However, you may put your fears at rest; I have no intention of expelling you from this school.”

Sunset fought very hard to suppress her sigh of relief; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Detention,” Professor Ozpin said, “Tomorrow night, with Professor Goodwitch.”

Sunset blinked. “One night of detention, Professor?” That was… extraordinarily generous of him.

But wasn’t that what Raven had warned Ruby about? That Professor Ozpin played favourites and turned a blind eye to the teams that he had set his eyes upon?

Does he know that I know that, and he’s sending me a message?

“As you pointed out, Miss Shimmer, there seems to have been little harm done to Miss Heartstrings in the end,” Professor Ozpin said. “And as for the matter of Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure, I have no wish to fuel the fires that are, thankfully, dying down around that revelation by making you a cause celebre for those who might otherwise claim that I am punishing a whistleblower. Better to let that particular business lie where it has fallen.”

“I… see, Professor,” Sunset murmured. Is that really all there is to it? She had her doubts, to say the least.

“That will be all, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said.

Sunset nodded sharply. “Of course, Professor.” She turned away and began to walk back towards the elevator.

“Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin said.

Sunset stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “Something else, Professor?”

“Next time you happen to be recording an incident like the one between Mister Winchester, Miss Bonaventure, and Miss Belladonna, come to me before you go to the press,” Professor Ozpin said.

I’d feel a lot less guilty if I’d done that, certainly, Sunset thought. And Cardin and Skystar might still be together. “Yes, Professor,” she said. “You have my word.”

Pyrrha waited in the tower lobby for Sunset to descend again. And as she waited, she could not help but feel disappointed. Disappointed a little with Jaune, she must admit, for having kept this secret from her after he had known – or even when he had begun to suspect. But even more disappointed with Sunset; mostly disappointed with Sunset.

They had known. Lyra had known the truth, and though she had been generous enough not to attempt to persuade Pyrrha of the fact… was it still generous when it had kept the truth from her?

She had trusted Sunset. She had believed that she was different, better, that she was beyond such things as this.

She hoped that she was not completely foolish in such hope and trust. She did not think so. She had seen a change in Sunset; they all had. This was an aberration. A step backwards. This was not who Sunset had become.

At least, she hoped it was not.

It was not. She believed it was not. She trusted it was not.

Sunset was still her friend, and as her friend, so Pyrrha trusted her.

And Sunset had proved that she was worthy of that trust, not only by admitting that she was at fault to Pyrrha but also to Professor Ozpin. If she had refused to go, then Pyrrha would have been forced to entertain more serious doubts, but since Sunset had gone, all Pyrrha was left with was the twinge of disappointment.

She wished it had not come to this. She wished that Sunset had not fallen so.

Jaune blamed Cinder. Pyrrha… would have liked it to be so easy.

She didn’t particularly like Cinder herself, but at the same time… there was something within Sunset that drove her to… to do such things as this.

It was something that Pyrrha would have to accept, as the price of being Sunset’s friend.

Accept, and try to guard her friend against her own worst impulses.

The elevator door opened, and Sunset stepped out into the lobby with its ambient green glow. She looked around and caught sight of Pyrrha, who had in any case begun to make her way towards Sunset.

“You didn’t need to wait for me,” Sunset pointed out.

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “But I wanted to. How…?” She hesitated. “How did it go?”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to fall briefly silent. “I have detention,” she murmured, “tomorrow night.”

“'Tomorrow night'?” Pyrrha repeated. “You… I mean, you were only given-”

“You don’t need to hide it; I was surprised to get off so lightly too,” Sunset cut her off. “I think it’s a bad sign.”

“You wanted to be punished more?”

“It’s like Raven said; he’s letting me get away with stuff because he’s got an interest in our team.”

Pyrrha wanted nothing so much in that moment as to tell Sunset that she was being absolutely ridiculous. And yet, the words would not emerge from out of her throat; they stuck there as though it was their intent to choke her to death. Why had Professor Ozpin been so lenient? Why give out a punishment that was so token? It was little more than a slap on the wrist for what Sunset had done.

Was it possible that the offence was not actually so great as Pyrrha had thought? When she had heard what Sunset had done, Pyrrha had been shocked that Sunset could descend so low; now, she was confronted with the possibility – vouchsafed by the headmaster, no less – that it was not actually something of any matter whatsoever.

Yet still she would have rather believed that than believed in Sunset’s paranoia.

“Or perhaps it really was no great matter,” Pyrrha murmured. “Nevertheless, I am grateful that you did this.”

“And I’m grateful that you made me,” Sunset said.

“You don’t need to pretend-”

“I’m not,” Sunset insisted. “Seriously, I mean it; I… I needed to do this, and you were the only one who made me do it. Jaune, Rainbow, Blake, none of them had the guts to hold my feet to the fire like this, only you. I needed it. I… need you.”

“And you have me,” Pyrrha said, smiling a little as she held out one hand. There was nothing more upon this matter to be said; she had given her word that, if Sunset confessed, then she would say no more about it; and she would hold to it.

Even if it did niggle at her mind from time to time.

Sunset took her hand, and clasped it warmly. “This won’t happen again,” she vowed.

“I know,” Pyrrha replied, and she believed it.

She wanted to believe it.

Weak Piping Time of Peace (New)

Weak Piping Time of Peace

“So,” Cinder said, her arms folded across her chest. “You told him everything?”

“No, I didn’t tell him everything; I told him what I did,” Sunset corrected as she strode towards the garage.”

“I fail to see the difference,” Cinder muttered as she walked after her.

Sunset turned to face her, walking backwards a step. “I didn’t tell him that you helped me get into Lyra’s scroll-”

“As I recall, I did everything to get you into Lyra’s scroll.”

“And I didn’t tell him that you… were there when I decided to out Cardin and Bon Bon,” Sunset added, ignoring Cinder’s last comment, for all that it was perfectly true. “I only told him that I did… that it was me. I took responsibility; I didn’t drop you in it. That’s the difference.”

“How very generous of you,” Cinder said dryly. “Why?”

“Why did I confess, or why did I not name you?”

Cinder paused for a moment. “Both.”

Sunset shrugged. “I didn’t name you because why would I?”

“Because I was there?” Cinder suggested. “Because I helped?”

“You helped because I asked you to,” Sunset said. “Because you’re a good friend.” She paused. “Although a better friend might have told me no and explained that it was a terrible idea.”

“That would require me to believe that it was a terrible idea,” Cinder drawled.

“It was,” Sunset insisted. “It was… I confessed because I had done wrong.”

“That didn’t stop you doing the wrong,” Cinder pointed out. “Was not justice served on Cardin and Bon Bon?”

“'Justice'?” Sunset repeated. “Where is the justice in breaking a girl’s heart?”

“Where is the virtue in keeping her blind to the inadequacies of her man for the sake of a little temporary happiness?” Cinder asked. “She may be broken-hearted now, but in time, those scars will heal, and she will not be saddled with a boyfriend who holds views she holds abhorrent.”

Sunset disliked how much sense that made. She shook her head. “If you had seen how wretched he looked afterwards-”

“Was not the point to make him wretched?” Cinder asked.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I… if I had known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have… I regret it; is that not enough?”

“Not if your regrets are foolish,” Cinder said. “Are you so in love with the idea of love that you hold it better to be blind in love than to be wise to him who is not worthy of your love?”

“Maybe I am!” Sunset snapped. “I was happier in love with Flash than I ever was wise to his inadequacy, to his prejudice, to his hatred of the faunuskind. If I could return to that state of bliss that we enjoyed I… I would give up Soteria to Phoebe Kommenos in a heartbeat for such a thing. Ten times over. I would give up pride and honour both and all the favours done to me by Lady Nikos. If this is what it means to see clearly then pluck out the eyes of my heart and make me blind again.”

Cinder stared at her, her own smouldering eyes practically boggling in disbelief. “You truly mean this,” she whispered. “You would rather dwell in ignorance and call it love than know the truth? You would rather go back to pretending for the sake of… him? Flash Sentry?”

“I thought he loved me once,” Sunset whispered.

“You were the more deceived, as you have told the tale,” Cinder declared. “And yet you would rather continue to be deceived.”

“What has the truth bestowed on me but heartache?” Sunset asked.

Cinder’s gaze was without sympathy. “Better to see the world for what it really is than live in dreams,” she said. “For all dreams end, and waking must come sooner or later, however painful the waking up may be.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “You… speak from experience?”

Cinder took a moment to reply, her voice quiet. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I see,” Sunset whispered. “And I am sorry for it, but… your experience is not mine, and it does not change the fact that I regret what I did, to Cardin and to Skystar both.”

“And Bon Bon?”

“Bon Bon is not near my conscience,” Sunset confessed. “Except that in damaging her, I damaged Cardin too. Lyra… stands between them.”

“I see,” Cinder said. “I still don’t think that you have anything to be ashamed of?”

“I hurt a girl who had done me no harm in order to wound her friend; is that not something to be ashamed of?” Sunset demanded.

Cinder shrugged. “What else could you have done?”

“Nothing,” Sunset said. “I should have done nothing.”

“And let Blake suffer?”

“Blake didn’t ask for my help, nor need it,” Sunset said.

“Should a friend need to ask for help in order to get it?”

“Of course not, but they should require it,” Sunset declared. “It was my pride, and the hurt done to my pride, that made me do those things.”

“Your pride would not be hurt if you didn’t care for Blake,” Cinder pointed out.

“That does not make my intentions noble.”

“Nor does it make them base,” Cinder pointed out. “Many good things can be done with a less than noble intent.”

“I know it well enough.”

“Then why did you confess your so-called offences to Professor Ozpin?”

“Because I had done bad things and needed to be punished; how hard is that to understand?” Sunset snapped.

“I want to understand why you suddenly became convinced that you had done bad things, you didn’t think so before?” Cinder said. She smirked. “Was it Jaune? Or Pyrrha? It cannot be Ruby, she is too righteous by far, she would have shouted out your ‘crimes’ if she learned of them. Blake and Rainbow Dash, the stalwarts of Atlas, simply told you that you were a naughty girl, don’t do it again, but you didn’t listen to them anyway-”

“Cinder,” Sunset warned reproachfully.

“I wonder how Atlas intends to stop the White Fang if that’s the attitude that they take to what they regard as criminality. Actually, in the case of the White Fang, it seems the attitude they take to criminality is to fawn upon the criminal and offer them a place within their serried ranks-”

“Cinder,” Sunset growled.

Cinder chuckled. “But that is of no matter here except insofar as it leaves Jaune or Pyrrha as our suspects. Or was it both of them?” Sunset must have given the answer away upon her face somehow, for Cinder went on, “It was both of them, wasn’t it? Did they take you one at a time or both together-?”

“What does it matter?!” Sunset yelled, her ears flattening down atop her head as the words loudly left her mouth. “What does it matter if Jaune or Pyrrha or both of them spoke to me? They opened my eyes.”

“Or blinded you,” Cinder suggested. “Covered your vision with the blindfold of their spurious morality? Or did they not even have to go so far?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did they threaten you? Intimidate you into turning yourself in?”

“Even Pyrrha couldn’t intimidate me,” Sunset declared disdainfully.

“Not with brute force, no,” Cinder allowed. “But did they-?”

“Drop it,” Sunset snapped.

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Am I getting warm?”

“You’re getting on my last nerve is what you’re getting,” Sunset growled. “I didn’t need Jaune or Pyrrha to tell me what to do any more than I needed you to tell me to do the things that I confessed to!”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “What did they say to you?”

“Were you not listening to me?” Sunset demanded. “Jaune says that you’re a bad influence on me, you know that?”

Cinder’s face was expressionless. “No,” she said softly. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’m starting to see what he’s talking about,” Sunset muttered. “What is this, Cinder? I’ve already told you that you’re safe. You have nothing to worry about; I’m not going to name you in any way. So why are you so interested in convincing me that I did the right thing before?”

“I merely…” Cinder trailed off. “Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head slightly as a few strands of hair fell down around her face. “I… I just wanted to understand your sudden change of mind, that’s all.”

“It’s not that sudden.”

“It’s sudden to me.”

“That’s only because we haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“Indeed,” Cinder acknowledged. “And that is neither your fault nor mine, but… I should have remembered. Forgive me. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Nor I with you,” Sunset said at once. She waved one hand as her ears began to rise. “It’s fine; it doesn’t matter; I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then I will not press you on the matter further,” Cinder said. “Save only to say ‘thank you’ for shouldering all the blame upon your own shoulders and leaving none on mine.”

Sunset inhaled through her nostrils. “Yes, well… spurious morality?”

Cinder chuckled. “Did it truly not trouble you at all to be lectured by the likes of Pyrrha Nikos?”

“No,” Sunset said flatly. “No, it did not.”

“Not at all?” Cinder said. “It bothers you not in the least bit that she, who has lived a life of the most disgusting privilege, who had everything that she ever wanted-”

“She had none of the things that she truly wanted-”

“I doubt that very much,” Cinder said, interrupting Sunset just as Sunset had interrupted Cinder. “She is the only child and heir of the Nikos family, the Princess Without a Crown; although they are not the richest family in all of Remnant, there were more than enough money to provide for all her needs and most of her desires, born gifted with no need to train-”

“Pyrrha has worked damn hard to get where she is today; there’s no way that anyone could be that good on pure-”

“She will never understand the likes of us, who have had to work and sweat and struggle-”

“Pyrrha understands me very well; we’ve both striven hard to become the best at what we-”

“And then she has the gall to-”

“Will you stop interrupting me while I am interrupting you?” Sunset yelled. “Seriously, Cinder, what is with you today? First, you want to argue about the things I did, now Pyrrha, what’s going on?”

“What’s the matter?” Cinder asked. “Am I required to like all of your friends?”

Sunset took a step back. “You… you don’t like my teammates?”

“Not particularly,” Cinder admitted. “Ruby is… a person, I suppose. Jaune is rather tedious, but inoffensive for all that – although the fact that he thinks I’m a bad influence makes me want to keep my distance from now; I’m clearly making a terrible impression.” She covered her mouth with one hand while she laughed.

“But Pyrrha… I must confess that, no, I do not like Pyrrha Nikos. Or should I say that I dislike the way that everyone fawns upon her. The Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn. I am as fair as she, and so say I that I’m as skilled in arms and all the arts of war as Pyrrha Nikos is, and yet, because I was not born a Nikos, because no army of dead ancestors go before my name like heralds, I am accounted nothing by comparison. She bestrides the world like a colossus, and we must creep about around her feet and find ourselves dishonourable graves. You know this. You’ve experienced firsthand just what I mean. Does it not trouble you? Does it not prick you with envy?”

“No,” Sunset lied. “Not at all.” She shook her head. “You are wrong about her. You are so wrong that I don’t even know where to begin except… you’ve fought beside her, against the karkadann. Was that not enough to let you look past all of that which others focus on and see the real Pyrrha?”

“What real Pyrrha? She’s a nonentity!” Cinder cried.

Sunset took a step towards her, and then another. “You are precisely wrong,” she said, her voice cold and sharp. “And you will never say that again.”

Cinder stared down at Sunset. “Will I not?”

“Not if you wish to be in my presence again,” Sunset declared, her voice acquiring an edge of a growl to it. “I will not hear her spoken of in such a manner.”

“Because you are a team leader?” Cinder asked. “Or a retainer to the House of Nikos?”

“Because I am her friend,” Sunset hissed. “And if you wish to be my friend, then you will respect that. You don’t have to like my friends – although I wish you would – but you do have to shut up about the fact that you don’t like them where I can hear you.”

“I see,” Cinder whispered. “I suppose I thought we’d reached the point where we could be honest with one another.”

“Honesty is overrated; loyalty is what matters,” Sunset insisted.

“I understand that now,” Cinder said. The corners of her lips tugged slightly upwards. “So… shall I go?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, and then took a step back. “No. Not if we understand each other.”

“I fear that I don’t understand you quite so well as I thought,” Cinder confessed. “But I understand enough, now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sunset muttered as she turned away and fished her scroll out of her jacket pocket, using it to open up the garage door. It ground upwards slowly, rattling all the while as the light crept into the dark space until Sunset’s motorcycle stood revealed.

Sunset grinned, gesturing with both arms to encompass the vehicle. “There you go! Isn’t she beautiful?”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “We’re going into Vale… on that?”

“I know; it’s going to be great.”

“Are we going to be alive at the end of it?”

Sunset looked at her. “Don’t start on this as well.”

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to insult your monstrosity of a motorcycle as well as your friends?”

“Why would you want to insult such a work of art?” Sunset demanded. “Haven’t you got eyes?”

“I plucked the eyes out of my heart so that I would not be heartbroken,” Cinder drawled.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Just get on the bike.” Sunset levitated her black helmet into her hand and pulled it on, crushing her ears a little but leaving a great mass of her hair to fall down her back as she climbed onto the machine. She felt Cinder get on behind her, the leader of Team CLEM’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight.

“Ready?” Sunset asked.

“I don’t know; perhaps I ought to write my will first.”

Sunset huffed as she hit the ignition button. Nobody had any appreciation for her engineering skills.

Nevertheless, and in spite of all of Cinder’s sneers and fears alike, Sunset’s monument to the beauties of profoundly asymmetrical design carried them both away from Beacon, down the long, winding, and quiet highway that connected the school and the city by road – most traffic used the air; only a few large scale supply runs came by lorry, and the occasional student like Sunset, Yang, or Flash with their own vehicle used this road – until they entered the walls by the King’s Gate.

Built along the ancient boundary of the city – or at least, the boundary as it had stood at the time of the Great War when the Last King had laid down a new sacred boundary to accommodate the exiles and ex-slaves fleeing into Vale from Mistral and Mantle – the walls, also known as the Red Line, were the best defence that Vale had against a sudden emergence of grimm from out of the wilds. The walls were built high and thick and looked to be made of steel or some such metal, although with how thick they were, Sunset had little doubt that there was stone involved somewhere. Sunset had seen these defences – defences that did not encircle Beacon, which relied solely upon the cliffs and upon the students for its security – but once before, when she and Blake had come this way to enter Vale by road instead of air. They were no less impressive upon the second time around, towering above Sunset and Cinder on the motorcycle as they drove through a gate wide enough to admit six large trucks side by side.

The gatehouse, for want of a better word – although it put Sunset in mind of something much more antiquated than the chunky, modern building that loomed over them – was even broader than the rest of the walls, with what looked like bomb racks set above it to descend upon any grimm assaulting the gate itself. It was flanked by towers jutting out of the wall, and similar towers were set at intervals all along the wall itself, each one containing three or four heavy weapons pointing outwards in different directions. The towers and gatehouse were the most manned part of the wall; there was little evidence of any Valish troops upon the rest of the battlements, though there was plenty of room for them to press shoulder to shoulder if required.

“So this is where the tax lien is going,” Cinder observed as Sunset slowed down to pass through the gate.

“You’re talking about the Green Line?” Sunset asked.

“I’m talking about the people who are so unfortunate as to live on the other side of this wall,” Cinder affirmed.

Sunset accelerated again once she got onto the other side of the gate. It was true that the Red Line did not mark the modern boundary of Vale; they had already passed through crowded housing districts on the way: long rows of council terraces, high-rises built to hold as many people as could be packed in like sardines, post-war prefabs from when such things had been fashionable. Vale had grown too large to be constrained within its walls, and the poorest of its population had spilled outwards into districts that were tall and cramped in equal measure. It was no coincidence that traffic had increased as well: there might be houses beyond the Red Line, but there was precious little work, and so, a constant tide of humanity flowed inwards towards the factories and shops and offices that kept all the people living without the wall in work.

And beyond those residential districts, there was farmland – far more of it than could be contained within the city’s agridistrict – and cottages and a few great estates and even some settlements that were more like villages than part of a great city. All of them were supposedly protected under the aegis of the Green Line, but – as Yang had confirmed for them all as a result of her mission – the Green Line was unfinished, left permanently half-completed, a victim of perpetual budgetary wrangles in the Council, and what work had recently begun upon it was a little late, as far as Sunset and doubtless many others were concerned.

Rainbow Dash said that Atlesian CBs had begun working on the Green Line alongside the Valish engineers to speed it up. No doubt, somebody somewhere was annoyed about that, but Sunset was equally sure that the people actually living out past the Red Line thought it was a good idea.

Sunset kept on driving, passing through the heart of Vale now, moving sometimes down broad highways and sometimes down narrow sidestreets, weaving between flashy sports cars in garish red and yellow and beat up old family SUVs in subdued greys and blues. Cinder clung to her as Sunset guided them past neon-lit department stores and badly-lit mom and pop shops, past offices where workers burned the midnight oil and bars where they burned the candle at both ends; they drove under pools of streetlight and through alleyways of complete darkness until she came to a stop not far from Winchester Park, where she dismounted off her bike and chained it to a lamppost.

The streets nearby were pretty full of pedestrian traffic, crowds of people heading down the pavements towards the park, so hopefully, the sheer number of eyes would prevent anybody from stealing her motorcycle.

Sunset spotted a van parked across the street selling burgers and chips. “Hungry?” she asked Cinder, gesturing towards the van.

“Not particularly,” Cinder murmured.

“Really? I’m offering to pay.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “You must stop assuming that my reluctance to consume recklessly is the result of parsimony.”

“I’ll believe that when I actually see you get out your lien and pay for something.”

“How can I, when you’re always offering to pay?” Cinder asked.

That was a better point than Sunset had expected. “I… look, do you want anything?”

“No, I really don’t,” Cinder insisted. “But, lest you think that I’m just a cheapskate, why don’t you get whatever it is you want on me.”

“I can’t do that,” Sunset declared.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t let you pay for me when you’re not having anything; it’s ridiculous.”

Cinder sighed. “How about I share something with you, will that satisfy?”

It did satisfy, as a point of fact; they got some chips and mayo – Pyrrha would have a fit – in a polystyrene box from which they nibbled, fastidiously in Cinder’s case; she pecked like a bird trying to get a worm out of the ground as they walked down the street.

“Are you looking forward to this?” Cinder asked.

Sunset swallowed the chip that she’d just finished chewing. “Definitely, you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cinder agreed. “This is my favourite play.”

“You know it?”

Cinder nodded eagerly. “It’s incredible,” she pronounced, her fiery eyes a-gleam. “A tale of kings and plots and bloody murders!” she grinned and practically skipped a step as she walked in front of Sunset and turned to face her. “I can’t imagine the kind of heart that would not thrill to such a thing. I’m not sure that I want to.”

Sunset grinned. “Have you seen it before?”

“Once.”

“Only once, and you love it so much?”

“I’ve read the text more times than I care to recall,” Cinder said. “I know that, as a good Mistralian, I should revere our own heroic epics best of all, but… something about this play, this tale of ambition, it… it’s so much grander. You’ll see when we get inside, I promise.”

They were almost at the park now, and the wrought-iron archway was covered by a banner proclaiming ‘Shakst’spur in the Park’; green balloons were tied by string to the iron above the banner, tugging on their restraints as they sought to float away. Already, Sunset could see the stage ahead, a wooden scaffold raised above the park, a circular stage with curtain awnings marking off the point beyond which the audience could not go. A paper backdrop, painted to resemble an old-fashioned castle, stood upon the rear edge of the stage itself, with gaps for entrances and exits, and upon the wooden boards sat nothing but a throne, or what passed for such; it looked like little more than a padded chair. But then, that was the point of theatre, wasn’t it? You had to use your imagination to turn that paper backdrop to a castle wall, that padded chair into a throne, the actors in their tawdry costumes into kings and queens.

The crowds moving down the street were squeezing into huddled masses heading towards the gate, even as a group of stewards in hi-vis jackets worked to separate them out again, to check their tickets or sell tickets to those that had none, while on the other side of the gate, Sunset could see more stewards selling programmes and transparent rain ponchos.

It was growing dark now, the sun receding and the moon coming into view, the pilot lights of the Atlesian cruisers blinking amongst the stars that were slowly showing their light above, but the very fact that she could see the stars and cruiser lights told Sunset that it was a clear evening, with little chance of rain and no need for a poncho. She and Cinder – Sunset had already bought their tickets; they were on her scroll – paused a little way before the gate to finish off at least a few more of their chips, and as they stopped, Sunset’s attention was drawn by the sound of a voice she recognised as Skystar Aris.

“No, there isn’t anything else going on between us. I found out, and I dumped him; that’s all there is to it.”

“Do you really expect us to believe that you didn’t know? Is that what you expect Vale to believe?”

“It’s the truth!” Skystar insisted, her voice cracking.

“You were his girlfriend; how could you not know?”

“Is this break-up just staged to distance your mother from the crisis?”

“This has nothing to do with my mother,” Skystar cried. “Please, will you just leave me alone?”

But they didn’t leave her alone. Skystar stood a little way off, pressed against the iron fence of the park, backed against it, at bay like a doe run to the cliff-edge by the hounds of the hunters. And just like hounds, the press pack swarmed around her, barking questions as the cameras snarled their flashes into her face.

Nobody moved to help her. Nobody did anything. The crowds passed by as if she did not exist, deaf to her need, blind to her peril.

They didn’t care. It wasn’t their problem.

Skystar turned this way and that, seeking a way out that did not exist; her eyes were wide and her mouth was open, her face framed in a look of fearful distress. She was wearing a sparkling blue cocktail dress that left her arms exposed from the shoulders down; the moonlight shone upon her fair skin as she twisted and writhed in her distress; Sunset was almost surprised that the words they hurled at her had left no bruises on her arms.

This is all my fault.

This isn’t what I wanted.

It wasn’t what I intended… but only because I didn’t think so far ahead.

Sunset’s squirming guilt was supplemented by the fires of anger; a thunderous scowl settled upon her brow as she strode over, throwing her chips into the trash as she shoved her way through the apathetic crowd who couldn’t care less. Maybe they thought it wasn’t their problem. Well, maybe Sunset would decide that it wasn’t her problem the next time some grimm got through the wall, and how would they like that?

“Leave her alone!” Sunset snapped, bulling her way through the press pack, shoving reporters and photographers alike aside to plant herself foursquare between them and Skystar. To think that she had cooperated with these animals, that she had fed them, unleashed them.

I have been a fool and a villain both.

“Leave her alone!” she shouted, turning her self-disgust into outward facing anger as she grabbed the camera out of someone’s hand and crushed the lens in her aura-strengthened grip. “Get lost, the lot of you! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!”

“Who are you?” one of them demanded.

“Yeah, who do you think you are?”

Sunset raised her hand, a faint green glow surrounded her palm as she used a touch of telekinesis to shove – not throw; she didn’t want to get in trouble for breaking anyone’s back – the offending parasite who had spoken backwards a dozen feet, his shoes slipping and sliding on the pavement, people scattering to get out of his way as he was born backwards into the road. He yelped as he dashed to the other side of the street to avoid a passing taxi.

“I’m Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset declared, “and I’ve asked you nicely to clear out. Who wants me to ask them rudely next?”

They scattered, turning away, some of them making more haste than others, dispersing in their different directions but all of them heading off out of sight.

Cinder began to applaud ironically, a smirk set upon her face.

“Th-thank you,” Skystar whispered. As Sunset turned to look at her, she saw that the Amity Princess had been crying; she could see the lines on her cheeks where her mascara had run. Her hair was dishevelled, and the sparkling silver diadem set in it was askew. “I hoped that tonight would be about the f-festival, but… but ever since Cardy- since Cardin and I… since everyone found out those things, it… it’s all that they want to ask me about.”

Sunset winced, pricked as with daggers. “Is it… always this bad?”

“Not always,” Skystar whimpered. “But they knew I’d be here. M-mother said that maybe I should give up being Amity Princess, but I… I don’t want to let Vale down, you know? I didn’t expect there’d be so many. I didn’t know what to do, and… thank you, Sunset.” She threw her arms around Sunset’s neck; her trembling form seemed light and frail as she clung to the huntress as though, if she let go, she would be swept away in an instant by a great tide of misfortunes.

Sunset froze. She didn’t deserve Skystar’s gratitude, not by a long shot, not when she was responsible for all of her sorrows.

She screwed her eyes tight shut. “I’m sorry, Skystar.”

“'Sorry'?” Skystar repeated. “Sunset, what do you have to be-”

“It was me,” Sunset said. “I heard Cardin in the laundry room with Blake, and I recorded him, and I leaked it, and I should have-”

“What?” Skystar asked, her voice soft as she spoke practically into Sunset’s ear. “What should you have done?”

Sunset hesitated. “Kept it to myself?”

“So that I could go on living a lie?” Skystar asked. “So that I could go on thinking that I knew who Cardin was, thinking that he was thinking that he was so much better than he was, thinking that he was someone I could… I know that I must seem like a mess right now, but… but I’m glad to know the truth. Really.”

Sunset slowly placed her arms around Skystar. “Did… did you love him?”

“No,” Skystar said. “I loved the man I thought he was, but that man… that man never existed at all. He was just… a shadow of a thought.”

Sunset held her close. “It gets easier,” she lied.

“I hope so,” Skystar replied. “Sunset?”

“Yes?”

“Next time, maybe tell me before you tell the press, okay?”

Sunset snorted. “Deal.”

Skystar released Sunset, who took a step or two back to give her some room. Skystar reached into the purse that dangled from her arm, pulling out a compact which she flipped open to examine herself. “Oh dear,” she murmured. She looked up at Sunset, and then at Cinder. “What are you two doing here? Is it for the play?” When Cinder nodded, Skystar winced. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but… I’m sorry to disappoint everybody, but I’m just not sure how we can go on.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Cinder asked.

“I’m sorry,” Skystar said. “But the actress playing Richard broke her leg in a cycling accident a couple of days ago, and tonight, I’ve just heard that the understudy is in hospital with food poisoning. There’s no time to rehearse anybody else, and we can’t put on Richard the Second without a Richard.”

“It does seem like a bit of a barrier,” Sunset admitted.

“Not necessarily,” Cinder murmured, folding her arms across her chest. She glanced at the stage, with its paper backdrop and its stuffed chair throne. “I’ll do it.”

“Excuse me?” Skystar asked.

“I’ll play Richard,” Cinder declared. “I know every line, every word by heart.”

“Seriously?” Sunset demanded. “You… you’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Cinder said. “The show must go on, after all, and I… I’ve always wanted to be on stage.”

“You mean you’ve never acted before?” Skystar asked.

Cinder chuckled. “I’ve never been on stage before; I’ve been acting half my life.”

Skystar stared at her. “Who are you?”

“Cinder Fall, leader of Team Clementine of Haven Academy.”

“A huntress?” Skystar said. “Well… I suppose it is the Vytal Festival. Are you sure you can do it? It will only be for tonight; tomorrow, I’ll be able to find someone else.”

“One night only,” Cinder murmured. “Yes, I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Sunset asked.

“Trust me, Sunset,” Cinder urged. “I’ll blow you away.”

“Alright,” Skystar said. “Go backstage and get changed.”

Cinder bowed extravagantly, “Right away,” she purred, and with a very satisfied smile upon her face, she headed towards the gate.

Skystar was quiet for a moment. “Is she going to be able to manage?”

“I hope so,” Sunset murmured in reply.

Skystar nodded, although what exactly she was nodding at, Sunset was unsure of. “Do you… do you really regret what you did?”

Sunset looked down at the pavement. “I regret breaking your heart.”

“Cardin did that, when he lied to me,” Skystar said. “You did the right thing.”

“The right thing has made you hounded.”

“I know, but… it’s still better knowing,” Skystar whispered. “Gods, can you imagine if I’d married him, without knowing how he really felt?”

“That… that would have been… I see your point,” Sunset admitted. Imagine being trapped in marriage with someone who was evil, without realising it; imagine realising that the person you had bound your life to had hidden the depths of their wickedness and depravity from you in order to bind you to them. She couldn’t imagine what that must feel like, but she doubted that there could be any worse feeling in the world.

Sunset stayed with her while she cleaned herself up, reapplied her eyeshadow, straightened the crown in her hair, and as she watched Skystar do all this, she was reminded that she had decided – in the privacy of her own mind at least – that she would try and make amends for what she’d done by helping Cardin out.

And, with Skystar right in front of her and no one else around, there was not likely to be much better time than now.

Even though it still was not a very good time.

Sunset reached up and scratched the back of her neck with one hand. “You know… Skystar… Cardin, he… he’s really broken up about… about the fact that you broke up.”

The fact that Skystar didn’t say ‘good’ was perhaps the only saving grace of the situation. She said, in a clipped tone, “I’d rather not talk about Cardin right now, if that’s all the same to you.”

“Sorry,” Sunset murmured. “I just… I don’t think that he’s as bad as the audio makes him sound.”

Skystar looked at her. “Did he say those things?”

“Yes.”

“Then he’s as bad as it sounds,” Skystar replied, bending down to pry a pebble that had stuck in her high-heeled shoes.

Sunset frowned. “Is there… is there no way that you’d consider giving him another chance?”

Skystar looked up. “Sunset!” she cried. “How can you say that? How can you ask me that? You’re the one who released the audio!”

“I know, and I regret it,” Sunset declared. “I really regret it; I regret the fact that I’ve made you… this, and I regret the fact that I’ve turned Cardin into a hollow shell of a man. I… I lied, before; it doesn’t get any easier. It’s been over two years since my boyfriend broke up with me, and I’m still not over it.”

Skystar straightened up. “That’s… not very comforting.”

“You want the truth? That’s the truth,” Sunset said. “It hurts every day, and it doesn’t stop.”

Skystar reached out and awkwardly patted Sunset on the shoulder. “Did you love him?”

“I love him; I hate him,” Sunset declared. “I want him back; I want him to suffer. I blame him; I blame myself. Every time I think about Pyrrha and Jaune, I get so jealous that she’s got it right, that she’s happy while I… while I’m alone. That’s when I don’t suspect that Jaune is going to hurt her because he’s a guy and a guy hurt me, and believe me, I understand exactly how this sounds-”

“Do you?” Skystar asked.

“Pathetic?” Sunset guessed.

“And just a little scary, too.”

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” she admitted. “The point is… the point is I don’t… I don’t want to see you or Cardin end up the same way, especially not since this is all my fault.”

“His fault,” Skystar insisted. “Not yours. Why did you break up?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Because I was a faunus.”

Skystar let out a little muffled gasp. “How can you love a man who could say something like that?”

Sunset shoved her hands into her pockets. “Because sometimes, I don’t know if I believe him or not. Sometimes… when I think about the way that he… that he didn’t have any problems with other faunus, I wonder… if there wasn’t something more I could have done to keep him.”

“I… I see,” Skystar whispered. “I mean, I don’t, but… I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything about me,” Sunset told her. “But you could say that you’ll give Cardin another shot.”

Skystar shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Because you believe him?”

“Because either he was lying to me, or he was lying to everyone up at Beacon,” Skystar declared. “And I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust someone who can lie so easily about who they are. I don’t know how I’m supposed to know that the man I… the man I knew or thought I knew is the real Cardin and not the one on that recording. Please, Sunset, can we not talk about this any more?”

“No,” Sunset agreed, because… because it was fair enough, really, wasn’t it? “No, okay, I won’t say anything more about it.”

I’ll have to think of a way that Cardin can prove to you which side of him is real and which isn’t.

“Thank you,” Skystar whispered. “I think… I think I’m ready now.”

Sunset stayed by Skystar’s side still as they made their way through the wrought iron gate – the stewards didn’t even ask to see Sunset’s ticket – and made their way through the crowd gathering in front of the stage. Sunset lingered almost – but not quite – backstage as Skystar went back to check that everything was ready.

Sunset, finding herself alone, thrust her hands into her pockets. She was glad that Cinder’s dream was coming true, don’t get her wrong, but she would have liked to have had someone to be here with. She seemed to be the only person who was here by themselves.

Her stomach growled a little, and Sunset regretted that she had thrown away her chips.

Fortunately, there were some nice old ladies moving amongst the crowd selling concessions, so Sunset brought an apple and a little plastic tub of chocolate-coated raisins, the latter of which she put in her pocket for later while she ate the crunchy apple now, biting into the juicy flesh as she waited.

From somewhere presumably backstage, a string quartet – or however many instruments; Sunset couldn’t actually see to count – was playing ambient music. Someone casually dressed came out onto the stage and lit the candles burning in tall candlesticks around the stage’s edge, set out of reach of the audience. As the night darkened, those candles became the main source of consistent light.

Chatter filled the park as the crowd waited.

Eventually, the music stilled, and Skystar emerged; from the smile on her face, one would never have guessed that she had been a mess not too long ago.

Maybe she should have played Richard.

Skystar waved enthusiastically as she walked to the front of the stage, her heels tapping upon the wooden boards. “Good evening, everyone! Hello, and to anyone visiting from the other kingdoms, welcome to Vale. My name is Skystar Aris, and as the Amity Princess, I thought it would be great if we could use this, the 40th Vytal Festival, to celebrate our Valish culture and share it with the rest of Remnant. And so here we are, Shakst’spur in the Park! This is how they used to do theatre in the olden days! They didn’t have seats, they didn’t have lights, they didn’t even have a ceiling. Thankfully, it isn’t raining.” She giggled a little. “Now, we almost didn’t have a show for you tonight, because unfortunately, both the actresses who could have played Richard have suffered unfortunate accidents. Luckily, we have secured a last-minute replacement. Her name is Cinder Fall; she’s a huntress, and she’s making her debut tonight, so please go easy on her. She’s been very kind just to show up at all. But with that said, I really hope that you enjoy the play; everyone has worked really hard on it; this… it’s Shakst’spur, what more can I say? And so, without further ado, I present, this Vytal Festival, Richard the Second!” As the crowd began to applaud, Skystar hopped down off the stage and made her way through the crowd to stand by Sunset.

“You don’t mind if I stay with you, do you?” Skystar asked, speaking into Sunset’s ear to be heard over the applause. “It’s just that… you make me feel safe.”

Sunset snorted. “Any huntress could do that.”

“Not every huntress would care.”

Sunset frowned a little. “Maybe not,” she admitted. “But all the good ones would.”

“And they wouldn’t all have helped me either.”

The good ones… they would have found a better way. “I hope I didn’t cause you more trouble.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Skystar replied. “And I’ll make sure that you don’t get in any trouble either, I promise.”

Sunset said nothing more, for Cinder had just walked on stage.

She was at once completely recognisable and yet at the same time utterly unrecognisable. She walked with a stoop and one shoulder higher than the other. Her left arm hung limp and useless by her side. She was dressed all in black, with a heavy gold – or gold-looking – chain around her neck.

And yet, at the same time, she was completely Cinder Fall. The way she strutted onto the stage, the way that her eyes burned, the way the way the smirk played upon her lips. The way that her eyes seemed to seek out Sunset as she swept her gaze across the audience and lingered there a moment longer than necessary.

She walked forwards until she was standing centre stage, illuminated by the candles burning before her.

She showed no fear of the audience, though it was much larger than any crowd that had watched her fight in combat class.

At least we know she won’t freeze up in the Amity Coliseum.

Cinder held her peace a moment. Then she began to speak. Her voice was crisp and firm and clear as a bell.

“Now is the work of many years complete,” she said, “The sun shines now on a united Vale. And all the rains that fell upon our house illumine now this many-coloured Arc. Now do the sovereign powers of heaven throw o’er us their Mantle of protection,” And as she said so, Cinder gestured upwards with one hand, grinning as she indicated the Atlesian fleet that hung in the skies above, throwing its protection over Vale. “While we hang up our bruised arms, or else for show and sport alone make use of them,” Cinder continued. “Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings are, our dreadful marches to delightful measures. And those with whom we warred on Tuesday last, this Friday morn we take into the embrace of our arms and share with them a cup of wine, and oaths of friendship and dear brotherhood.”

Cinder scoffed in disdain. “Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his furious brow, and ‘stead of mounting on his steed to lead a host of fearful gentlemen in arms, he capers nimbly in a lady’s chamber to the lascivious plucking of…” Cinder allowed the dirty-minded members of the audience a moment to dwell upon what he might be plucking in a lady’s chamber, “...a lyre.” She chuckled. “But I, in this weak piping time of peace, have no delight to pass away the time.” Cinder fell silent for a moment, sweeping her eyes across the audience and once more alighting upon Sunset. She looked down upon her, her smouldering gaze affixed upon the huntress in the crowd, meanwhile the crowd was silent. Cinder held them spellbound, they hung upon her next word.

They waited. She kept them waiting.

Cinder turned, her cloak sweeping about her as she stalked towards the far edge of the stage. Her voice became less firm, less certain; the confidence drained out of her. “Love forswore me in my mother’s dying-bed,” she said. “And, that she loved me not and willed it so I should not deal in love forevermore, she did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, that I be rudely stamped and want love’s majesty. I am deformed, like to an ursa surfeited with uneven spikes of sharp, protruding bone. I am not made to court an amorous looking-glass; dogs bark at me as I halt by them. Am I to make my heaven in a lady’s lap, and deck my body in gay ornaments?” She turned to Sunset once again, a wry smile upon her face. “Shall I witch sweet ladies with my words and looks? Hah! Say rather I should spy my shadow in the sun, and descant on mine own deformity.”

She sighed, and bowed her head a moment, and closed her eyes. Her words came slowly, each one imbued with power. “Then, since the earth affords no joy to me, I’ll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, and while I live I’ll count this world a hell until that crown, gilded and glorious, rests firm and undisputed on my brow.

“And yet I know not how to get the crown. For many lives stand between me and possession and I am like one who stands upon a cliff and spies some far off place where I would stand, and wish my feet could travel swift as thought without regard for all that lies between.

“A thorny wood lies between me and the crown, and as I rend the thorns that I may pass so I am rent by the thorns of frustrated ambition pricking at my skin, tormenting me with mine own failure to get the crown. Yet will I free myself from this torment or cleave my way through with a bloody axe!” Cinder shouted, stamping her feet as she strode forward so loudly, they were like iron-shod horses’ hooves. “Plots have I laid, by libels, false reports, and fashioned enmities, to set old friends in deadly hate against the other, to make old foes reach for their swords once more, to fill these fair well-spoken days with oaths of wrath. For as I hate the idle pleasures of these days I am determined to prove a villain.” She laughed. “And be the death and downfall of these things I hate.

“As I am subtle, false and treacherous, this peace in Vale will not for long endure and as the horrid flames of war rise up once more,” – she held out her hand above the candle flame, pressing her palm closer and closer to the fire and taking no hurt from it. Easily done with aura, of course, but it made the audience ooh and aah appreciatively all the same – “I’ll walk through fire and blood to claim the crown.” Once more, she paused; once more, she looked at Sunset; now, she walked towards her. “I shall smile,” she said, and smiled to prove it, “and murder while I smile, and cry content to that which grieves my heart. I’ll devour more warriors than a beowolf can. I will transform more men than e’er the God of Faunus did, and unlike him I’ll change men back to beasts and set them snarling red in tooth and claw to tear the throats out of my enemies! I will blind all these northern gallants, and laugh to watch them stumbling and fumbling, and in their blindness turn their blades ‘gainst one another and their oathsworn friends. I’ll shoot an arrow through the heart of my dear enemy, and ‘fore I shoot I’ll ask them ‘do you mock me now? Do you rate me for my deformity? Do you still call me villain, dog, accursed cur, still spurn me with your foot and drive me off?’” Cinder had begun to shout, but now, she ceased and calmed her voice once more. “Shall I do this, and yet not get a crown? Fie! Though it be twice as high I’ll pluck it down!” She mimed plucking with one hand.

And the crowd erupted in applause. It rolled like tidal waves onto the stage and Cinder. It broke upon her like a storm. It fell upon her like the rain.

And Cinder bowed, and spread out her arms wide on either side, and looked at Sunset.

“That was… incredible!” Skystar gasped, as she too clapped her hands together.

Sunset, too, applauded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it was.” It had been a concerted performance: vengeful, angry, intelligent, ambitious, word perfect, devoid of any hesitation save by intent.

She was, indeed, a tremendous actor.

And this was the role she had been born to play.

Baited Lure (New)

Baited Lure

"Good morning, students!" Professor Port boomed jovially as the freshman class assembled in front of the docking pads. "I hope that you're all well-rested and ready for an exciting practical test!" He chuckled. "As you're all aware, this practical exercise will see you all returning to the Emerald Forest; however, what you will not yet be aware of is the special circumstances governing this exercise."

Sunset shifted her weight from one foot to another. She had guessed that there would be some kind of twist in the tale here; otherwise, the premise of returning to the Emerald Forest yet again for another grimm hunt would have been almost banal; after all, they'd already shown that they could handle that last semester. Unfortunately, knowing that there was a twist coming hadn't helped Sunset work out what the twist was, and as she looked around the faces of her fellow students – her own teammates and others – it didn't seem like anyone had much idea of what was coming next.

Professor Port went on. "You will be inserted into the forest in waves via these Bullheads here," he said, gesturing to the three Bullheads waiting on the docking pads behind him. "Each wave will consist of eight students in four pairs, and each pair will be assigned a route to follow from their starting position. Your route can be followed via your scrolls or by markers placed in the forest by myself and Miss Schnee on Friday. Your objective is not to hunt grimm, although you should be prepared to kill any creature that crosses your path." He chuckled again. "Your objective is to reach the end of your designated route, collect a relic, and then return to the starting position for pick-up."

Yang raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Xiao Long?"

"This doesn't sound much different from Initiation, Professor," Yang pointed out.

"Indeed not, Miss Xiao Long, but only because you haven't heard the good part yet," Professor Port declared. "I told you that each wave would consist of four pairs of students; you may have assumed that I meant partner pairs; however, in actual fact, the pairs in which you must fight your way through the forest have been chosen by me, completely at random."

Whispers and murmurings began to break out amongst the gathered students. Some people gasped in shock or alarm. Jaune turned a little paler than usual at the prospect, and Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly in distress, although doubtless for slightly different reasons.

Rainbow raised her hand, but didn't wait to be acknowledged before she demanded, "Why, Professor? Why are our teams getting split up?"

"Yeah," Nora agreed. "What's the point of training to fight in teams if when it comes time to actually fight, we have to do it alongside people we don't know and don't know if we can trust?"

"Do you imagine that in the course of your careers as huntsmen and huntresses, you will have the good fortune to only fight alongside those whom you know and trust?" The voice of Professor Ozpin, coming from behind the crowd of students, caused many to turn around to see him there, holding a scroll lightly in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. "Forgive me, Peter, but I thought I might come and observe the exercise, if it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all, Oz," Professor Port said. "I'm sure the students will be motivated to even greater feats under your watchful eye."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Your flattery will be the death of me," he murmured as he began to walk forwards. The students parted for him, clearing out of his way and opening up a path for him through their mass until he stood beside Professor Port. "Now," he added, "I do believe that you have already been set some work by Doctor Oobleck along similar lines as this."

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha said. "But that was academic work; this-"

"Is real work, Miss Nikos, real huntsman work," Professor Ozpin interrupted. "Not to diminish the importance of what you learn in the classroom, of course. But how better to see if you can work together with others from outside your team, perhaps even outside your academy, than by making you work together in the field? Cooperation," he declared, "is the highest purpose of the Vytal Festival. Do not forget that."

Clearly, this was no mere fancy of Professor Port, no mere notion that had come to him in the middle of the night; this was, if not an official school policy, then certainly something that the school – represented by no less a person than its headmaster – was smiling on. Further objections, then, were unlikely to alter the state of affairs. Sunset did still have one question, however, and she raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Port acknowledged.

"What happens if we don't come across any grimm, Professor?" Sunset asked. They had been told that the purpose was not to hunt, but it wouldn't be much of a Grimm Studies exercise if they got away without hunting, would it?

Professor Port's voice was rich with amusement. "I don't think that's likely, Miss Shimmer; in fact, I’m confident that you’ll all find plenty of grimm to keep you all on your toes." He laughed again.

"Oh great," Jaune murmured.

Pyrrha put one hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine," she assured him.

"Maybe," Jaune whispered. "If I get a partner who can pick up my slack."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Pyrrha urged. "You've improved so much already."

Jaune glanced at her. "It's just… whenever we've gone into battle… I always knew that you were there to… you know."

Pyrrha frowned, even as the morning light glinted off the circlet on her brow. She hesitated for a moment, then swiftly took off her belt. "Sunset, would you mind holding this for me for a minute?"

"Um, yeah, sure," Sunset said, as Pyrrha thrust the belt into her hands. Sunset gripped it, feeling the weight of Pyrrha's various pouches and the metal disk that bore her crest pulling downwards towards the ground.

Pyrrha's hands and fingers moved quickly and deftly as she untied the long scarlet sash from round her waist.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune asked. "What are you doing?"

Pyrrha said nothing, but a slight smile tugged upon the corners of her mouth as she tied her sash around Jaune's waist in turn. "Wear this," she said, "and keep me close. That way, even though we both have other partners, I'll still be with you."

Ruby cooed appreciatively, and Sunset found a smile spreading across her face.

Jaune looked down at the long sash falling towards his feet, but not quite reaching them because he was taller than Pyrrha. "Pyrrha… I can't take this-"

"Yes," Pyrrha interrupted him, "you can. You can give it back when the exercise is over, but until then, you can wear it." She took his hands in her own. "For me."

Jaune looked into her eyes. "Pyrrha-"

"Now kiss!" Nora cried, causing laughter amidst the students who had watched this little exchange. Pyrrha and Jaune both flushed at the reminder that, yes, they were surrounded by their fellow students, and both drew back half a step and let go of one another's hands.

They didn't need to be embarrassed, in Sunset's opinion; people were watching, but the smiles upon their faces were fond, not mocking; everyone who cared at all seemed to have found the whole thing as sweet as Ruby and Sunset.

Professor Port cleared his throat. "Now, when I announce the names of the first four pairs of students, please move towards the Bullhead on my right. The first pair in the first wave will be Arslan Altan and Sunset Shimmer; you will be heading north from the landing zone."

"Good luck," Pyrrha said as Sunset walked towards the Bullhead. Arslan joined her from the other side of the group of students. They both nodded to one another, but said nothing as they walked past Professors Port and Ozpin onto the docking pad and leapt up onto the waiting Bullhead.

"So," Sunset said.

"So," Arslan replied.

They stared at each other for a moment, their faces giving nothing away.

Sunset's tail twitched.

"Could have been worse," they both said at the same time.

Arslan grinned. "I knew I liked you," she declared.

"Jaune Arc and Flash Sentry," Professor Port announced. "Please head east from the landing zone."

Alphabetical order, sort of," Sunset thought as she and Arslan waited for Jaune and Flash to join them. "Hey, Jaune, welcome aboard," she said. "Flash."

Flash sighed. "Hey, Sunset."

"Is everything okay?" Arslan asked.

"Don't ask," Flash said.

Jaune frowned.

"Hey," Sunset said to Jaune. "It's going to be okay; you'll be fine."

"Missing P-money already, huh?" Arslan asked.

"Yeah," Jaune admitted. "Yeah, I guess so."

"That's rough," Arslan said. "Sweet of her to give you that sash, though; she's worn one of those ever since I've known her."

"The same one?" Sunset asked.

"Nah, she would have tripped over it when we first met; the one she wore then was a lot shorter," Arslan explained. "She scaled up the length once she hit her growth spurt."

Jaune clutched the trailing tail of the sash within his hand and said nothing.

"She's been teaching you, if I hear right," Arslan observed.

"What do you hear?" Sunset demanded.

Arslan shrugged. "Mostly incredulity," she admitted. "And I admit that you don't exactly seem like first-rate boyfriend material-"

"Thanks," Jaune muttered.

"But are you going to cheat on her?"

"No!" Jaune cried. "Why would you-?"

"Do you gamble?"

"No," Jaune said, more quietly and with less outrage in his voice.

"Do you drink?"

"No."

"Then Pyrrha's no less of a role model for getting involved with you, so what's the problem?" Arslan asked. "Anyway, my point is, have some faith in your teacher, even if you've got none in yourself. 'Cause take it from me, she knows what she's doing."

"We don't need to take it from you; we've seen it for ourselves," Sunset declared.

"But thanks anyway," Jaune added.

"Sage Ayana and Twilight Sparkle, you will head south from the landing zone."

I can imagine how Rainbow feels about this, Sunset thought.

Sage – he was one of Sun's teammates, but that was about the extent of Sunset's knowledge of him – was a big man, with dark skin and green hair growing like grass atop his head. He was swathed in a long white coat, and he had a sword almost as big as he was slung across his back. He had to duck his head a little to avoid banging it on the Bullhead ceiling. "Morning," he said, his voice gruff and deep.

"Hey guys," Twilight said, as she climbed in after him. "Sunset, Jaune, Flash."

"Hey, Twilight," Flash greeted.

"Hey," Jaune said. "How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?" Twilight repeated. "You're asking me how I'm doing?"

Jaune nodded. "Because… well, trust me, I get it."

Twilight let out a nervous laugh. "Then… it doesn't really need saying, does it?"

Sunset bit her lip. She was pretty tempted to ask Sage if he wouldn't mind swapping partners, but she wasn't sure if that would be allowed. Probably not.

It's just an exercise, she'll be fine.

I hope she'll be fine.

"Blake Belladonna and Ruby Rose, you should head west from the drop point," Professor Port declared.

Sunset chuckled. "Poor Pyrrha; I wonder if she's feeling left out?"

"She might be feeling a little lonely," Jaune replied.

"Hey guys," Ruby said cheerfully as she leapt aboard. "You okay, Twilight?"
"I'm fine, thank you," Twilight said, only moderately convincingly.

"Why does everyone keep asking her that?" Sage asked.

Nobody answered him; instead, as Blake jumped up into the belly of the airship, she said, "Quite a coincidence, so many of us ending up in the first wave, huh?"

"A positive one," Sunset replied.

Blake didn’t meet Sunset’s eyes. Sunset was uncomfortably reminded of the fact that this was the first time they had spoken since Sunset had… betrayed her trust. “Mhmm,” Blake murmured.

"Remember your cardinal directions, group one!" Professor Port urged. "And good luck!"

The engines on the wings outside tilted, shifting from pointing backwards behind the airship to pointing downwards at the docking pad beneath them. Everyone grabbed hold of one of the straps that hung from the ceiling as the airship lifted off, rising off the black and blue docking pad and into the sky. As the Bullhead turned, Sunset was afforded a glimpse of the crowd of students waiting their turn to be called; Pyrrha was a particularly noticeable figure, even without the splash of vibrant red that usually hung about her waist. The sunlight glinted off her gilded armour still. As they took off, Sunset saw Pyrrha raised one hand to them, and all three of Pyrrha's teammates waved back before they were carried out of sight.

The Bullhead carried them over the length of Beacon's canvas, not flying particularly high – not least, Sunset presumed, because the land was about to descend in height substantially very soon – so that the shadow of the Emerald Tower and some of the other taller buildings fell upon them as they were born over the courtyard and the farm and across the green expanse of unused land that lay between Beacon and the cliffs. Over the cliffs, they flew, as the world fell away sharply beneath them, the rocky cliff-face giving way to the verdant canopy of the Emerald Forest.

"So," Arslan said, "how do you think they're going to ensure that there are grimm on this Grimm Studies field trip?"

"Probably they've planted lures along the four routes to draw in grimm," Twilight murmured.

"They can do that?" Jaune asked.

Twilight nodded. "There are some very high-tech models being rolled out in Atlas for use by huntsmen that use chemical compounds to mimic the pheromones given off by humans in high-stress situations."

"But people have been using more traditional methods to accomplish the same goal for… probably for as long as the girmm have been a threat," Blake added.

Ruby nodded. "Uncle Qrow taught me and Yang a way to make one by rubbing pork cutlets all over us; it was really gross, but super cool at the same time."

Sunset cringed. "Why?"

"To get our sweat all over the meat so that the grimm would think it was human flesh," Ruby declared eagerly.

"Riiiiiiight," Arslan muttered. "Honestly, huntsmen. What a waste of meat."

"Did it work?" Jaune asked.

Ruby nodded. "We got a couple of beowolves doing that."

"A couple of beowolves won't be much of a test," Sunset said.

"I wouldn't say no to a more… uneventful experience," Twilight declared.

"That was just one lure," Blake reminded them. "The forest, or at least the routes we've been instructed to take, are probably littered with them."

"Right," Flash agreed. "I hope you don't mind, Jaune, when I say that I'd rather Weiss was here for this."

"Go ahead," Jaune told him. "I'd rather have Pyrrha here, too."

"We'd all rather have our partners by our sides; that's the reason we don't," Sage said.

"Speak for yourselves, my partner isn't speaking to me after I called him a dickhead," Arslan said. "Which just proves how much of a dickhead he is, in my opinion."

"Is that Bolin?" Sunset asked.

"Uh huh."

"Yeah, you've got the better deal with me," Sunset said confidently.

Arslan smirked. "Right back at you, Sunnyside."

"It's Sunset."

"Not all the time, it isn't."

The Bullhead carried them into the midst of the forest, descending into a clearing encircled by tall trees, casting their shadows over a space where none of their forest brethren sought to venture. They dismounted onto grass that was green and springy beneath their feet, and as the airship ascended once more, leaving them behind, Sunset could see that four paths had been cut through the woods around them, snaking slightly as they manoeuvred through the trees in the four cardinal directions.

There was nothing else to be seen but the paths. The grass was the only thing saving the clearing from being completely barren, and there was nothing else to be seen here.

The four paths, marked with red flags, called out to them.

"So," Jaune said, "I guess there's not much to do right now but get going."

Ruby smiled. "You'll be fine, Jaune. And when we're all done, you'll laugh at how nervous you were at the start of this."

Jaune's laughter now had a nervous edge to it, "I hope so; I mean, probably, you're right."

Blake looked up at the sky. "How long do you think it will be until the next group arrives?"

"I don't know," Sunset said. "Why?"

"I was just thinking," Blake said, glancing towards Twilight, "that if we're going to be on our own for a while, we should keep in contact; that way, if any pair gets into real trouble, they can call for help and another group can double back to assist them."

"We'll be fine," Sage declared.

"Don't be so sure," Flash replied. "The moment you underestimate the grimm is the moment they get you. I think it sounds like a good idea."

"Me too," Sunset agreed.

Blake nodded. "I've got Sunset, Jaune, and Twilight's numbers, and the reverse too, so… if we don't hear or see another Bullhead soon, let's just check in every so often, okay?"

"Okay with me," Sunset said, glancing at Arslan to see if she had any objections; not that Sunset would have taken any notice if she did have objections, but Sunset wanted to know if her temporary partner was the sort to let pride get in the way. Thankfully, Arslan made no such objection; in fact, she said nothing at all.

"You're all worrying about this far too much," Sage said. "You'll see, this is going to be a cakewalk. Come on, Twilight," he added, turning away and unsheathing his immense sword – it was marked with the numerals I through XII running down the blade for some reason – from off his back as he set off down the southward path.

Twilight smiled sheepishly at them, then pressed a button on the neck of her armour to bring up the helmet section of her purple-tinted, glowing suit. Her face disappeared beneath the blank, featureless visage of her helm, and yet, Sunset found she could imagine her face within nonetheless. She did not imagine that Twilight's nerves were much eased for now being completely enclosed within her powered armour.

Motorised sounds – whirrs and squeaks – issued from said armour as she turned and followed after Sage.

The remaining three pairs looked at one another.

"Good luck," Blake said.

Sunset nodded. "Good luck to all three of you," she said. She paused a moment, not looking at Flash. Then she relented. "All four of you."

"Thanks," Flash said heavily, and then it was his turn to hesitate. "You too."

Then they split up, Flash and Jaune heading east, Ruby and Blake heading west, and Sunset and Arslan heading north.

Sunset slung Sol Invictus off her shoulder, holding it in both hands as she and Arslan walked down the path.

"Why do you have that?" Arslan asked. "Your semblance does more damage."

Sunset shrugged. "I haven't always used my semblance," she said.

"You mean it took you a while to find it?"

"Something like that," Sunset muttered. "Why don't you use a weapon?"

"I've got a knife," Arslan pointed out.

"Sure you have, but you know what I mean."

"The lion doesn't carry weapons," Arslan said. "If his claws and teeth can't keep his skin safe, then it is not worth keeping."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "You're aware that you're not actually a lion? You're not even a lion faunus."

"Do you think that I'd call myself the Golden Lion of Mistral if I was a lion faunus?" Arslan replied. "I'd get dogpiled for… not racism, but that thing where if you're a faunus and you play up to stereotypes."

"I know what you mean," Sunset confirmed. "My point stands: you're not a lion."

"But like a lion, I was born with weapons," Arslan insisted. "And those weapons will see me through." She paused. "I didn't always have fancy tutors to teach me how to fight, you know."

"Really," Sunset murmured dryly.

"Unlike Pyrrha, it wasn't until after I started placing that I had the money to hire a trainer to iron out my technique."

"Is this your apologia for why you can't beat her?" Sunset asked.

"No, I'm just saying that I first learned how to fight tussling with my friends or fighting the kids from a couple of streets over," Arslan explained. "By the time anyone started teaching me how to fight, I'd gotten used to punches and kicks, and using a weapon just felt… it didn't fit with me. And besides,I don't need to apologise for the fact that I haven't beaten Pyrrha yet; she's that good."

"Indeed she is."

"But I'll get her one of these days."

Sunset scoffed. "I'm not so sure of that."

Arslan grinned. "I wouldn't expect a friend of hers to say anything less, so long as they really were a friend of hers." Arslan kicked a stone out of her path; it hit a nearby tree with a thump. "She seems happy."

"Pyrrha?"

"Of course Pyrrha, who else?" Arslan demanded.

"She seems happy because she is happy," Sunset replied. "I hope. More or less."

"More or less?"

"She's worried about Phoebe," Sunset explained.

"You don't want to worry about Phoebe Kommenos; she's a hack with pretensions," Arslan sneered dismissively. "Now, she's kind of rich, so those pretensions can carry her a ways, but sooner or later, she always runs into her lack of talent. She might want to think she's one of P-money's rivals, but there's so much distance between them it's not even funny. She doesn't even have a fanbase."

"Not even sad, lonely guys who think she's gorgeous?" Sunset asked.

"So what if she is? We're all gorgeous," Arslan replied. "And anyway, you shouldn't insult the audience by calling them names; it's bad for building loyalty."

Sunset smirked. "Do you mean to tell me that there is no one who supports you because they fancy you?"

"You mean, does my agent get creepy messages that he makes sure I never see, of course he does," Arslan admitted. "And if you call up Pyrrha's mother, she'll tell you the same. My point is, even if you're one of those guys, you're probably going to want someone with a… softer personality. Like Pyrrha, so maybe Jaune should watch himself next time he's in Mistral."

"You won't insult the fans, but you're more worried about them than you are about Phoebe?"

"Phoebe didn't have the guts to take you on herself," Arslan reminded her. "That says everything you need to know. But, other than that, Pyrrha's happy, isn't she?"

"Yes."

"Good," Arslan said. "I… her smile doesn't look as fake now as it did back home sometimes."

"No, it isn't," Sunset said. "Does that matter to you?"

There was a rustling in the bushes to Sunset's left. She turned, Sol Invictus flying to her shoulder as Sunset cocked the rifle; Arslan turned too, her whole body flowing smoothly into a fighting stance, knees bent, palms poised to strike.

A raccoon poked its head out of the bush, took one look at the pair of them, and then darted back into cover with a squeak of alarm.

Sunset uncocked her rifle and lowered the barrel down to the ground.

Arslan grunted. “So, I take it you can’t do that thing where you sense trouble coming with your aura?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “I take it you can’t either.”

“Why would I need to? I could always see my opponents coming out of the other tunnel,” Arslan said. She looked around. “One of the reasons I don’t like forests – you can’t see what’s coming.”

“A lion who doesn’t like woods, imagine that.”

“There’s nothing odd about it, lions are creatures of the high plains,” Arslan reminded her.

“Well… okay, fair enough.”

“Mind you, I’m not too keen on the high plains either,” Arslan admitted. “I don’t really like the countryside, to be honest. It’s got a funny smell. Give me the smell of old clothes and food going off in the fridge because the power company cut you off any day.”

“You can keep it; I’d rather have this,” Sunset muttered. Food going off in the fridge? Ugh!

Arslan chuckled. “Let me guess… your family used to be something, back in the day. That day’s past now, and your money’s run out, along with any power or influence that you used to have, but all the same, they never let you forget where you came from.”

Sunset snorted. “Is that what you really think? How many faunus do you know whose families used to be something?”

Arslan shrugged. “Okay then, explain it to me.”

“Why?”

“Have you got somewhere better to be?” Arslan asked. “Or do you want to pass the day in silence?”

Sunset opted for silence… but only for a couple of minutes as they trekked down the trail, still failing to encounter any grimm. Then she said, “My family didn’t used to be anything. I was adopted, in a manner of speaking, by the ruler of my community. Outside the kingdoms.”

“Ah,” Arslan murmured. “That explains that part… and then you left, came to the kingdoms, and in doing so, got a lot poorer than you used to be.”

“I… had to get used to not having all my needs catered for, yes,” Sunset acknowledged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you leave?” Arslan asked. “Why did you go from living like Pyrrha to doing this?”

“Pyrrha lives like Pyrrha and does this,” Sunset pointed out.

“And I don’t get that either; I think she’s nuts.”

“From someone who’s doing this too?”

“I’m only here for three years; this isn’t my plan for the future at stake,” Arslan informed her. “I mean, sometimes, I think I must be mad to have come here at all, but in the end, the prize is worth it.”

“If you mean a Vytal crown, you can dream on,” Sunset told her. “Pyrrha has that in the bag already.”

“Keep talking like that, and you and I are going to have another appointment in the arena,” Arslan muttered.

“You haven’t beaten her yet; what makes you think this year is going to be any different?”

“I’m bound to get lucky sometime.”

Not necessarily, Sunset thought, but did not say. “So that’s all you’re here for? The Vytal Festival?”

“Are you judging me too?” Arslan asked.

“No, just… a little surprised,” Sunset replied. “I would never judge anyone for seeking after eternal glory.”

“Because that’s why you’re here?” Arslan guessed. “That’s why you left your home, beyond the kingdoms?”

Sunset hesitated. “Let’s just say the world I was born into was too small for my ambitions.”

Arslan shook her head. “If you wanted your name to live forever, then you should have come to Mistral and taken up professional tournament fighting. Then you’d have your fill of glory and more, I guarantee it, with your skill.”

“I didn’t think they let outsiders fight in the Mistral tournaments,” Sunset replied.

“There aren’t many, and they have to work hard to get over the bias of the crowd, but there are some,” Arslan said.

“Well, if I’d known that, then…” Sunset mused. “I probably would have made the wrong choice.”

“What’s so wrong about it?”

“I’m a better person for coming here,” Sunset replied. She paused, wondering how true that really was. “Or at least… here, I can recognise when I’ve done the wrong thing. My friends can help me recognise it. That wasn’t always true. It wouldn’t have been true in Mistral, in the arena.”

“Fair enough,” Arslan relented good naturedly. “But… I don’t know what glory or renown you expect to find in this profession. I don’t like the fact that Pyrrha’s going to walk away from the arena for this, but I get it: she thinks that she’s doing something meaningful, doing a service, and so she’s ready to commit to it because that’s something that matters to her.”

“Pyrrha thinks she can save the world,” Sunset declared.

Arslan rolled her eyes. “Break a record for tournament wins, and she starts getting delusions of grandeur.” She paused. “It is a delusion, right?”

Sunset did not reply at once. It was a difficult question to answer, and not only because she was Pyrrha’s friend. There was a desire to believe that it was not a delusion – or an illusion, to describe it more charitably – to believe that Pyrrha’s dreams could be made a reality, that Team SAPR could be the tip of the spear that drove back the darkness.

But the world seemed so much larger now than it had done when Sunset and Pyrrha had sat on the roof and discussed whether destiny was a choice or an ineffable force; there were so many things they knew of now that they had been blind to before: the magic of Remnant, the women who commanded it, the secrets and the machinations of Professor Ozpin. It seemed harder, now, to believe that even Pyrrha’s prodigious skill, even their team so dazzlingly composed, could effect the kind of great change upon the world that Pyrrha wished.

But Sunset refused to admit that fact, not to Arslan, maybe not even to herself. She had crossed worlds in pursuit of nothing more than ambition and desire, languished unregarded for years sustained by nothing more than her sense of her own worth; she would not falter now, not when recognition was beginning to come her way.

Not when she had something to fight for.

“Whether it is or it isn’t,” Sunset declared. “We’re going to try it regardless, for Pyrrha’s sake.”

From somewhere to the south, the sound of gunfire echoed through the woods towards them.

Pyrrha’s sash fluttered gently in the breeze that gusted through the forest, rising up away from Jaune’s leg for a moment before falling down again to brush against his pants as the wind rose and fell.

Jaune glanced down at it. His sword was drawn, and his shield was held before him, but his eyes were continuously being drawn downwards towards that sash.

In some ways, this was what he’d wanted: a chance to prove himself, to show that he wasn’t a burden, that he could manage without the girls and, in managing without them, prove too that he could help them when they needed it.

In other ways, this was pretty terrifying.

He hadn’t realised until she wasn’t there anymore just how used he’d gotten to having Pyrrha there; yes, she stood back, and she let him fight his own battles, but the fact of the matter was that she was always there, and if he screwed up or found himself in real trouble, then he knew that she would bail him out, and he wouldn’t even have to ask because that was the kind of person she was.

Only now… only now, she wasn’t here, she wasn’t beside him, she was somewhere up on the docking pad, and she might not be getting down here for some time, depending on what partner she was allocated, and that meant… that meant that they would both be fighting without the other.

He was not nearly so worried about Pyrrha in that situation because, come on, it was Pyrrha, but that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t worried at all. Pyrrha was amazing, but if he could do nothing else, he could at least stimulate her aura, and she would be without that facility today.

He recognised that that was nothing compared to his issues, but still…

Just because he could understand why Professor Port had decided to shake things up – and he was right; this was a more effective way of seeing if they could work together than Doctor Oobleck’s coursework – didn’t mean that he had to like it. Didn’t they have teams for a reason? Didn’t they have partners for a reason? He liked fighting alongside someone he could trust, someone who trusted him, someone… someone he understood.

Now he was fighting alongside someone he didn’t know at all.

Jaune really wasn’t sure what to make of Flash Sentry, walking in front of him, his armour gleaming. In person, he seemed okay; Jaune thought that Weiss might be interested in him if she’d give herself enough of a break to admit that it was okay to feel that kind of thing. He was a better fighter than Jaune, and it was a toss-up between him and Dove as to who was the stronger boy in their class as far as sparring went; to be honest, if Jaune had been coming to Flash fresh, with no preconceptions whatsoever, he probably would have looked up to the guy… once he got over his jealousy of the fact that Weiss obviously liked him, of course.

But Jaune wasn’t coming to Flash Sentry fresh; he was coming to him from everything that Sunset had said, or let slip, or implied, and most of it was… not that great. And while Sunset was not above lying – and even when she wasn’t lying, she didn’t always have the clearest perspective on things – one thing that Jaune was sure she wasn’t lying about was how badly hurt she’d been by Flash Sentry.

It was at the root of her messed-up views on relationships and how men ought to treat women, of that Jaune was sure; okay, 'messed up' was possibly a little harsh, but she seemed to have this view that men ought to be perfect storybook prince charmings that even Ruby or Pyrrha probably would have found to be a little much, and Jaune was certain that she wouldn’t have gone around telling Sun to put Blake at the centre of his life with no thought for his teammates if she hadn’t been trying to spare Blake what had been done to her.

She wasn’t faking that. Jaune didn’t think that Sunset was capable of faking that kind of hurt. And Flash was the one that had hurt her.

Of course, Sunset had hurt him in turn – although he didn’t think she’d really meant to with that business with the audio – but he had started it, or at least, it seemed like he had.

Jaune didn’t get it. Not one bit. He didn’t get how someone who otherwise seemed so nice could hurt someone like that.

He didn’t get it, and he didn’t much like it. It made him suspect how much of what Flash showed the school was all some kind of act.

He had never gotten around to talking to Pyrrha about it. Other things had always gotten in the way.

Which meant that he hadn’t made a decision on what he was going to do about all this before he and Flash had been thrown together by fate.

Against that was the fact that, well, Sunset had done him wrong recently, and Jaune was pretty sure that she hadn’t apologised – fat chance of that, where Flash was concerned – and he was probably owed a sorry from someone, especially since Sunset had told Professor Ozpin what she’d done so he wasn’t even going to be revealing any secrets.

Which was good, because Sunset’s misdeeds weren’t really the kind of secrets that he wanted to be keeping.

But it did make it harder to work out how he ought to interact with this guy.

He glanced down at the sash around his waist and once more wished that Pyrrha were here.

“It suits you,” Flash observed.

Jaune looked up. “Huh?”

“The sash, it suits you,” Flash told him. “Maybe you should think about getting one for yourself, one that’s actually yours, I mean.”

“Huh,” Jaune said. He hadn’t considered that before, but now… maybe. It was something to think about anyway. “Maybe.”

Flash glanced back at him. “You’re a lucky guy, you know that?”

“So I’m told,” Jaune said.

“You don’t believe it.”

“No, I know it’s true, it just…” Jaune trailed off, worried that it gets a little irritating sometimes to be talked about as though I’ve got nothing going for me might come off wrong; he didn’t know Flash well enough to be sure that he would get it. He was lucky, and he knew that, but was it wrong for him to maybe want someone to think that Pyrrha wasn’t unlucky herself? “You were pretty lucky yourself, once.”

Flash’s face fell. “That… I’d rather not talk about that,” he said, his voice chilling noticeably.

I’ll bet you wouldn’t, Jaune thought, but didn’t press the matter. He still hadn’t decided if that was a good idea or not. “Right, fine.” He hesitated. “How… how’s it going?”

Flash blinked. “How’s it going?”

“You know,” Jaune said. “With… with the things that… the things that-”

“The things that Sunset released?” Flash guessed.

A sigh escaped from Jaune’s lips. “You know?”

“I guessed,” Flash said. “It’s the kind of thing that Sunset would do.”

“I’m not so sure,” Jaune replied.

Flash’s eyebrows rose, disappearing beneath his glimmering, crested helmet. “You’ve got a better opinion of her than I do.”

“I’m not sure that’s hard,” Jaune replied.

Flash winced a little. “Maybe… maybe not. But she did do it, so that says a little bit about which of us has the measure of her, don’t you think?”

“I’m still not so sure,” Jaune insisted. “She really… I know what she’s done, but Sunset was getting a lot better, until…”

Flash took a step towards him. “'Until'?”

Jaune shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not your problem.”

“'Problem'?” Flash repeated. “What problem?”

“Oh, now you care?” Jaune asked. “Sorry, I just-”

“It’s fine,” Flash said. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You don’t have to explain anything to me. Just… is she okay?”

Jaune’s mouth opened a little. “Is she okay? You… you are asking me that?”

“I know how it must sound-”

“Do you?” Jaune demanded. “Do you really?”

“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean that I stopped caring!” Flash snapped. “I always wanted Sunset to be happy. I was glad because I thought that she was getting better thanks to your team, only now you’re telling me that there’s a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune replied, his tone almost as hot. “I mean, obviously, there’s some kind of a problem, but I’m not sure it’s Sunset’s fault. She… she has this friend, one of the students who arrived from Haven.”

“You think she’s a bad influence?”

“Sunset says not.”

“Sunset would say that,” Flash told him.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Jaune agreed. “I’m just… not sure what I can do about it. They really get on well together, and if Sunset’s right… I don’t want to accuse this other girl for no reason, and I don’t want to drive a wedge between Sunset and a friend.”

Flash was quiet for a moment. “I… I don’t know, man. I really don’t know. Sorry, but… that’s just not something I can help you with.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “So… how is it going? After… after what Sunset did?”

“How’s it going with people thinking that I’m a racist?” Flash asked.

Well, aren’t you? Jaune thought. “Something like that.”

“Most people who think that probably already thought it, if they knew who I was, for one reason or another,” Flash replied. “And… I can’t blame Sunset for what she did. It wasn’t the best thing, but when you think about what Cardin and Bon Bon said… you have to keep a proportion about this stuff, you know? Calling for the faunus to be wiped out is much worse than leaking audio of someone calling for the faunus to be wiped out, and considering what it must have been like for Blake and Sunset to hear that… a human like me doesn’t have much grounds to complain about anything. We have to learn our place when it comes to this stuff, you know?”

“I guess,” Jaune said. “Either way… I’m sorry that it happened.”

“Not a lot did happen,” Flash replied. “I think… I don’t know, because she won’t say, but I think Weiss might have done something to make it all go away. And I’m not sure what she did, but it worked.”

"Huh," Jaune said, for want of anything better to say. "That, um… lucky you, I guess."

"Lucky us," Flash agreed. "Not so lucky Weiss."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, nothing," Flash said. "It's really not my place to say."

Jaune might have said more, but his attention – and Flash's too – was stolen away by the sound of gunfire coming from the west.

It had begun.

"It's kind of weird that we haven't seen any grimm yet, don't you think?" Ruby asked. "I mean, Professor Port made out like this task would be difficult."

"It is a little strange," Blake allowed. "Whether or not it's the kind of thing we ought to complain about is…"

"We're here to learn how to fight, not to walk through the woods," Ruby pointed out. "A hike down a trail and back with no grimm isn't going to teach us anything."

"Except how to walk long distances," Blake pointed out.

"Maybe, but when is that going to be useful?" Ruby asked.

Blake shrugged. "It might not, but I've not always been lucky enough to have ready transportation on stand-by."

"That is a good point," Ruby admitted. "All the same, I'd rather that there were-" She stopped, her whole body tensing.

Blake had felt it too: grimm, to the left… and the right. Not too many of them, as far as she could tell. Her aura spread her sense out around her, probing into the undergrowth and through the trees, perceiving what eyes and ears and nose could not. She could sense the squirrel up above, the chicks in the nest a couple of trees away, the mother who had just flown off to gather food. Their souls pricked upon the edges of Blake's consciousness, while if she closed her eyes, she could perceive Ruby's inner light blazing like a supernova in front of her.

In the midst of such light, the grimm were utter darkness. They had no souls to sense, but that was what enabled Blake – and Ruby – to detect them. They were shadows, blots of pure darkness blotting out the light. She could sense six of them, moving in from the edges of her conscious range; there might be more a little further off, although Blake couldn't sense them.

Ruby had Crescent Rose in hand; Blake's Gambol Shroud was in its pistol configuration. She glanced at Ruby and gestured leftwards with her head.

Ruby took one hand off her weapon for just a second to point to her right, nodding in acknowledgement.

It was Blake's turn to take a hand off Gambol Shroud. She held up three fingers, sensing with her aura the grimm slinking closer. They were quiet; if she hadn't trained this aspect of her aura, she would never have known they were coming.

Blake lowered one finger; two remained.

Perhaps it was their lack of numbers that made them stealthy like this. Certainly, they didn't seem to be this quiet when there were more of them.

Blake lowered another finger. One remained.

Then again, they were rarely so stealthy even in smaller numbers.

Blake lowered her last finger, her hand now clenched into a fist, and Ruby and Blake sprang into action, Blake to the left and Ruby to the right.

They were beowolves – six beowolves – and easily dealt with; to gunfire or to blade, they died one after the other, their greater than usual stealth proving to bear no relation to any greater than usual fighting potential. One by one, Ruby and Blake each turned their trio of foes to ash, and then they returned to the path once more.

"You wanted some grimm," Blake observed.

Ruby grinned. "I guess I did. It still doesn't add up to what Professor Port made it sound like, though."

"Professor Port often sounds as though he exaggerates his stories," Blake replied. "Maybe he's taken to exaggerating his classes too?"

Ruby chuckled. "Maybe, but Sunset says-"

"Hang on a second," Blake said, holding up one hand as she felt her scroll beginning to vibrate. Considering that they had agreed to keep in touch and that sound was perfectly capable of travelling through the Emerald Forest, she guessed it was either Jaune, Sunset or Twilight checking in.

It turned out to be Sunset. Blake hesitated, not sure if she wanted to accept the call or not, not sure if she wanted to talk to Sunset or not after what she'd done.

But she guessed that Ruby didn't know what Sunset had done, and Blake didn't want to be the one to tell her, so she answered the call. "Hey," she said.

"Hey, Blake," Sunset replied. "We heard shooting from down your way; is everything okay?"

"Just a few beowolves; everything's fine," Blake assured her. "Isn't that right, Ruby?"

"We're all good here, Sunset," Ruby declared. "How are you guys doing? Have you checked on Jaune?"

"Not yet," Sunset replied. "We haven't seen mask or spike of a grimm since we got here; you two are the only sounds of shooting we've heard, but Jaune and Flash don't have guns, so I'll check in on them. Have you heard from Twilight?"

"No, I'll check in with her," Blake told Sunset.

"Great," Sunset said. "It's strange how quiet it is, isn't it?"

"You're not the only one to have noticed that," Blake observed, glancing at Ruby. "Maybe when more students show up, we'll attract more grimm?"

"What happened to luring them to us?"

"Lures don't always work," Ruby explained. "Uncle Qrow said that the grimm can sometimes tell that it's not a real person but a trick, especially older grimm."

"Well that's a lot of use, isn't it?" Sunset demanded.

"It's better than nothing, right?" Ruby asked in reply.

“I guess so,” Sunset muttered. “It’s kind of weird; you’d think that even if the grimm were just wandering around at random, we’d have seen some by now. I wonder if it will count against our scores if we don’t have to fight?”

“Glad to see you’ve got your priorities straight,” Blake muttered.

Sunset chuckled, a laugh that acquired more of a nervous edge the longer it went on. “Hey, Blake…”

“Yes?”

Sunset reached around and scratched the back of her head. “So… are we good?”

Blake fell silent. What was she supposed to say to that? Were they good? Were they good? After what Sunset had done, she had the nerve to ask that? She had lied to Blake; she had lied to Blake’s face; she had promised that she wouldn’t take any further action and then she had…

Then she had exposed two people who had said some of the most egregiously racist things ever to come out of the mouth of a human. Bon Bon… Bon Bon had sounded like Adam when the black mood was on him, when a mission had gone badly, when valued comrades had been lost in battle, then he had spoken thus, talked of killing the humans, of making a new ocean of their blood, wiping them off the face of Remnant. Blake had tried to tell herself that he didn’t really mean it, that he was angry, lost in the fullest flow of his grief, that he would calm down and such thoughts would fly from him. She wasn’t sure if she still believed that, unfortunately, but the fact was that Bon Bon and Cardin, however much they might dislike her, had no such excuse.

Theirs was an offence committed against Blake, true, but it was also window into their hearts and souls… and Blake wasn’t sure that she had the right to demand that Sunset shut that window against the sight of the other faunus in the school, the students who interacted with them, who might count them friends, not knowing how they really felt.

Blake had considered the possibility, based on Starlight’s guess, that their words were lies, bait to draw her into rash action… but could you really say such things and not mean it, at least a little?

If Bon Bon or Cardin had done something smaller scale, then ironically, Blake would have felt much more justified in being angry at Sunset for retaliation. But this, what they had actually said, it… it was bigger than Blake, in a way that she didn’t feel so secure in her right to judge.

“We…we’re not bad,” Blake said.

Sunset sighed with relief. “That’s… good to hear. I was starting to worry because-”

Someone – Arslan Altan? – squawked with alarm somewhere out of sight.

“Arslan?” Sunset yelled. “Arslan!”

She must have dropped the scroll, for her face disappeared; Blake was gifted with a shot of the sky, of trees swirling around her; and then there was a thudding sound, and she could see nothing but soil.

But she could hear Sol Invictus barking: once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, six.

Sunset shouted something wordless and angry.

“Sunset?” Blake demanded. “Sunset, are you okay? Sunset!”

Phoebe Kommenos sat in Doctor Oobleck’s history class, but her mind was elsewhere. Not on dull dates of boring old people who were not her ancestors, no; her mind was in the Emerald Forest, where she had just turned on all of the lures that she had placed along the four routes set by Professor Port.

She had known in advance that third-year students would be asked to seed the way. She knew that because they had been informed earlier in the week that, on Saturday, they would be tasked with making the lures in a special class with Professor Greene before they actually went into the forest with Professor Port to set them up. For the third-year students, setting the bait – and risking grimm attack in the process – was as much an exercise as it was for the first-years to progress through the woods.

And so, knowing what was coming, Phoebe had bought some Atlesian-made lures, so much more advanced than the traditional nonsense Professor Greene had them making – Turnus was right; the north really was racing ahead of everyone else, weren’t they? It was rather embarrassing for the rest of Remnant – and planted them, in clusters, one cluster per route.

And she had just turned them on.

You weren’t meant to bunch lures up like that. That was something that Professor Greene and Professor Port had both emphasised. You shouldn’t bunch them up, or else you might attract rather more grimm than you bargained for.

Of course, that was precisely why Phoebe had done it.

It wasn’t going to be her fighting off all those grimm, after all.

And when this little practical exercise devolved into a bloody fiasco, Phoebe would venture back into the Emerald Forest and pluck Soteria from Sunset Shimmer’s bloody corpse.

It wasn’t as though she’d be needing it any more.

And if she got Pyrrha too, then… well, it was a pity that Phoebe would never get to triumph over her in the sight of men, but on the other hand, it was one less opponent to worry about on her road to Vytal Festival triumph.

And would not the shade of Phoebe’s mother rejoice to see Pyrrha’s mother weep, and pull her hair and rend her clothes and screech in grief at the loss of her daughter, the last of their line, the pride of Mistral?

Turnus might even look at her, if Pyrrha were gone.

Phoebe couldn’t quite keep the smile from off her face. Yes, everything was going to be perfect.

Strictly For the Birds (New)

Strictly For the Birds

Pyrrha reached down to nervously tug at her sash, only to remember that it wasn’t there. She’d given it to Jaune before he left.

Before he went off into the forest without her, with Flash Sentry to guard his flank.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jaune – he really had come a long way, and she was sure that Flash was perfectly capable – but… she would have rather that she’d been with him, just in case.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t know what you’re thinking.

Except that he probably does. I just hope he isn’t offended by it.

She took comfort from the fact that Jaune had seemed a little nervous himself. Not that it was a good thing that he was nervous! He had no reason to be; he had many reasons to be confident; it was only the grimm in the Emerald Forest after all. No, what she meant was that the fact that he was nervous meant that he would probably forgive Pyrrha being nervous on his behalf.

Nevertheless, it was probably not something that she should be dwelling onup.

Which was why it was especially unfortunate that it was the only thing that she could think of.

She supposed that she possibly ought to have been concerned for her other teammates, but the fact of the matter was that not only were Ruby and Sunset both more skilled individually than Jaune, but also they were accompanied by partners whom she knew. Arslan was, physically, the strongest fighter Pyrrha had ever fought, and only Sunset had come closer to defeating her; Blake was the bravest of the brave, and her skill at arms was almost equal to her courage. Flash was the only one that Pyrrha did not know well – or at least know their abilities intimately – and he was partnered with Jaune who… who benefited from having a reliable partner.

Pyrrha tried to distract herself by wondering about who her partner might be; it didn’t really work, but it did cause her to sweep her gaze across the crowd of students – she very much hoped that she was not partnered with Cinder Fall – and as she did so, she was reminded that she was not the only student who was worried about their partner in the forest without them.

Rainbow Dash stood with her arms folded across her chest, a decidedly sour look upon her face, brow knotted, nose wrinkled, lips pursed together in a pout. If there had been a storm cloud brewing above her head, it would not have made her look any more miserable or incensed.

Of course, Twilight. Pyrrha felt rather selfish, thinking only of her own discomfort and ignoring the fact that there were others in her position.

“Excuse me, please,” Pyrrha murmured, as she made her way through the crowd of waiting teams to approach the three remaining members of Team RSPT. Ciel also looked a little concerned, although not to the same extent as Rainbow Dash; her lips were pursed together, and her mouth was tightly shut. Penny looked uncomfortable, but it seemed that that discomfort was as related to the looks and obvious attitudes of Rainbow and Ciel as it was to any worries that she might have about Twilight.

“Pyrrha!” she said, and sounded less excited and more relieved to see someone without a thunderous face. “Hello again!”

Pyrrha smiled. “Hello again indeed, Penny,. Rainbow, Ciel.”

“Hey,” Rainbow grunted, briefly glancing Pyrrha’s way with her magenta eyes.

Pyrrha kept the smile upon her face as she placed one hand on Rainbow’s shoulder. “We have to believe in both of them.”

Rainbow sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t like letting Twi go into battle without me.”

“I understand,” Pyrrha assured him. “I don’t like letting Jaune go into battle without me either. But the fact remains, we have to believe in them.”

“Are you worried?” Penny asked.

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. “Yes, yes, I am, a little worried.”

“But why?” inquired Penny. “Isn’t this just an ordinary exercise? Isn’t this normal?”

“It’s still live fire,” Rainbow muttered. “Things can still go wrong.”

“I suppose so,” Penny admitted. “But, still… is this because Jaune… isn’t very good?”

“Penny!” Ciel reproached her. “That is not a very polite thing to say, especially behind someone’s back.”

“And you’re wrong, in any case,” Pyrrha declared firmly. “Jaune has improved a great deal; he has so much promise and potential. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as him to get better.”

“I’m sorry,” Penny said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you or insult anybody.”

“It’s alright, Penny,” Pyrrha replied, her voice softening noticeably. “I didn’t mean to snap either; it’s just that… so many people insult Jaune for the most wrongheaded reasons, I suppose it’s made me rather defensive.”

“Is that because you love him?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I suppose it is, yes, although I like to think that I would worry about him even if we were just good friends.” She looked at Rainbow. “Speaking of friends, you know Flash Sentry, don’t you? From Canterlot?”

Rainbow nodded. “That’s right. Honestly, if he was partnered with Twilight, I’d feel a whole lot better.”

“But if Flash Sentry and Twilight Sparkle were partnered, neither of them would have headed into the woods in the first wave,” Penny pointed out.

“Even better,” Rainbow declared. “One of the few things I like about this is that Rainbow Dash has to be called pretty soon, no matter what partner I get.”

“If anyone is called next,” Ciel murmured, “it feels as though the next wave should have been ordered into their Bullhead by now.”

She had a point. Pyrrha had been under the impression that the students would be called up fairly quickly in succession. Now, it was possible that her understanding had been mistaken – Professor Port had never confirmed this face, and neither had Professor Ozpin; it was possible that they didn’t want to flow the forest with students, but rather wanted to feed them in gradually in small packets, although that risked all the grimm being killed by the first students into the forest – but nevertheless, she was surprised by the fact that the first Bullhead had returned and no new students had been named to enter the Emerald Forest in the next batch.

The fact that Professor Port and Professor Ozpin were now huddled together, looking at their scrolls, with their backs to the students, was not an encouraging sign either.

“Anyway,” Rainbow said, in the tone of someone who was intentionally trying to move the discussion back onto safer ground, “Flash… Flash is a solid guy. I trusted him to look after Twilight when Ciel and Penny and me went looking for Blake, and the fact that he then ditched Twilight to jump into a locker and fly to the docks like a madman doesn’t change the fact that he’s… he’s a solid guy. He’s not the best or anything, but he knows what he’s doing. Like I said, if he were with Twilight right now, I’d feel a whole lot better. I don’t know this Sage guy at all.”

“Sage is a cool guy,” Sun said, appearing behind them from… somewhere.

“How do you do that?” Rainbow demanded. “You’re like some kind of ninja or something.”

Sun shrugged. “You’ve got nothing to worry about; seriously, have you seen Sage? The guy’s the strongest on our team.”

“Yeah, I could see that he was big,” Rainbow said. “But is he fast? Is he agile? Is he good enough to do the work of two people?”

“Why would he need to- oh. Ohhhh, right,” Sun said. “Well… yeah. Probably. I mean, Twilight’s not completely helpless, right?”

“Thanks, you’re making me feel a whole lot better,” Rainbow said flatly. “Why couldn’t Twilight have gotten partnered up with Blake; then I wouldn’t have any worries at all.”

“None at all?” Ciel asked, raising one sceptical eyebrow.

“Okay, so I’d still have some worries,” Rainbow admitted. “But Blake’s got the mettle; we all agree on that, right? She’d get Twilight through this, no problem. This Sage doesn’t even know that he has to look out for Twilight, not the way Blake does.”

“I think we should have faith in our friends,” Penny said. “In all our friends.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath, and the smile returned to her face. “You’re quite right, Penny, and you chide us rightly. We should believe in them; it’s the least that we can do.”

“I’m sure that they’ll all set really high scores that it will be tough for us to beat,” Penny added. “But then we’ll beat them anyway. And I’ll be sure to beat your score too, Pyrrha!”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Will you now? That sounds like a challenge, Penny.”

Penny grinned. “That’s exactly why I said it.”

“Well, if you’ll forgive the cliché, I have no intention of giving up without a fight,” Pyrrha declared.

“Assuming that we are allowed to get to the fight,” Ciel muttered.

“I’m sure they’re just… they’re probably… okay, I’ve got no idea what the hold up is,” Sun admitted.

They were not alone in beginning to find the delay inexplicable, and concerning for the fact that it could not be explained. Whispers were beginning to flow amongst the other teams; people were shuffling impatiently in place; murmurs were rising as people wondered at the cause of the delay.

The murmurs and the mutters and the whispers must have reached the ears of Professor Ozpin where he stood with Professor Port, because the headmaster turned to address them all. “I’m sure that you’re all impatient to get going and take part in this exercise,” he said genially. “However, I must ask you all to be patient. Your turn will come, even if it does not come right away.”

Rainbow raised her hand. “What’s the hold up, sir?”

“There is no hold up, Miss Dash; this was always how the exercise was planned to go,” Professor Ozpin declared. “We are giving the first wave of students a good amount of time to make headway before we send in any more students to join them.”

Then why were you and Professor Port huddled together as you had a decision to make? Pyrrha wondered. She had always regarded Sunset’s suspicions of the headmaster as being rather unfounded, based more on Sunset’s paranoia than in any facts. But now, as she watched Professor tell what she was almost certain was a lie with that bland look upon his face… for the first time, she began to wonder if there might be something in what Sunset said.

“Do you believe that?” Rainbow muttered, in a tone that suggested she didn’t believe it either.

“I… I’m not sure,” Pyrrha said, which was almost a lie in it’s own right. “But I’m sure Penny’s right: everyone will be absolutely fine down there. Perfectly, absolutely fine.”

Arslan squawked in alarm as her legs disappeared beneath the earth; her arms flailed for a moment as grass and soil gave way beneath her and she was dragged bodily beneath the earth.

“Arslan?” Sunset cried. “Arslan!”

She dropped her scroll – she could just about hear Blake frantically demanding to know what was going on – as she reached out for her temporary partner with one hand.

Her hand was just about to clasp Arslan’s, to try and drag her to safety, when the head of a creep, the bony skull that looked reptilian without really resembling any reptile that Sunset could name, emerged from out of the ground to clamp its jaws around Sunset’s arm.

Sunset grunted in pain and blasted the visible part of the grimm with a bolt of magic from her other hand, causing the head to dissipate in a cloud of smoke and ash.

But in the meantime, Arslan had disappeared, pulled under the earth by what was presumably another creep, or several of them.

Just like the other creeps that were starting to emerge from underground, growling and snarling.

Sunset felt something move under her leg. She teleported, just a couple of feet upwards into the air, high enough to avoid the creep that snapped its head up out of the ground and tried to grab her the way that they had grabbed Arslan. Sunset pulled Sol Invictus off her shoulder – where she had slung it again when she called Blake – and shot it, blowing its head clean off before she landed on the ground. She darted backwards a couple of steps, not wanting to stay in any one place too long; she didn’t want to get grabbed and pulled down; she wanted them to come up here where she could get at them.

In the meantime, some of them had already come up out of the ground, and they snarled as they waddled on their two legs towards her, their broad tails waggling.

Sol Invictus fired another shot, and a third, bringing down two more creeps. Sunset leapt aside as another creep pushed its snout up from the soil to try and grab her leg, then she shot that one too. It took two shots to bring down a slightly larger creep, not quite an alpha to Sunset’s reckoning but on its way there, and then Sunset’s six shots were up. She skewered another creep on the point of her bayonet, and then she shouted in anger as she reversed the rifle and brained another grimm with the wooden butt of the weapon.

She could still hear Blake’s voice, a little muffled, calling out her name from out of the discarded scroll… but then she heard the sound of Crescent Rose roaring in anger from Blake’s position, and Blake stopped calling her name after that.

Sunset would have worried, but her own troubles were far more immediate at the moment: more creeps emerged from underground with every passing moment, there were at least a dozen of them out now, and although a dozen creeps weren’t anything worry about particularly, the fact that more of them kept coming was a little bit worrying, as was the fact that Sunset couldn’t see how many of them were still under the ground, biding their time.

Like the one that managed to get the drop on her; she had stood still too long, not moved quickly enough, and the creep – this one was large enough to be an alpha – managed to close its jaws around Sunset’s booted foot and retreat underground before Sunset could do anything, dragging Sunset with it.

Sunset teleported, and this time, she didn’t just teleport off the ground but into one of the trees that stood on either side of the path, appearing amidst the stout lower branches that were thick enough to support her wait.

More creeps burrowed up from out of the ground, turning their bony faces upwards as they growled.

They had no eyes, Sunset noticed, or at least not eyes the way that beowolves and ursai had eyes; they had only slits on their bone masks that might be for seeing or might just be the scars of battles long ago.

Sunset’s hand glowed as she grabbed her scroll in the grip of her telekinesis and levitated it up into her outstretched hand before the creeps could eat it. Fortunately, it didn’t look too damaged for being dropped. Unfortunately, Blake had hung up on her.

Judging by the sound of shooting from the south – Gambol Shroud and Crescent Rose – it sounded as though Blake and Ruby had troubles of their own.

Then there was another sound, a sound that was at once a boom and a hiss both at once, and it was accompanied by a bright glow of light that erupted in the corner of Sunset’s eye.

That wasn’t something she recognised from Gambol Shroud or Crescent Rose, unless either Ruby or Blake had been doing upgrades without telling her. And besides, she could hear them elsewhere. All the noise was coming from the south, but from different directions with that.

Jaune and Flash don’t use guns, which means it must be Sage… or Twilight.

The emergence of the alpha creep – an alpha creep, at least – reminded Sunset that she had her own situation to think of first. Surrounded by grimm, with no partner-

There was a stirring underground; the earth shifted, bucking upwards, forming a mound that bulged up and out in first one direction then another.

Another creep? That one must be even bigger than the first alpha!

The ground erupted; Sunset had just enough time to see a creep being punched upwards before the punch destroyed it, and Arslan Altan, a savage smile upon her face, laughing a fierce warrior’s laugh, emerged through the smoke and the ash as her leap carried her upwards beyond the grimm which snarled and snapped at her.

Sunset grabbed her in her telekinesis, enveloping her temporary partner in a green haze and levitating her into the tree next to Sunset.

“Thanks,” Arslan said. “I’m not sure I’d want to land straight in the middle of that lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Sunset said, snapping Sol Invictus open to reload. “I thought you were done for.”

“Please, it’ll take more than… whatever these are-“

“Creeps,” Sunset supplied.

“Right, it will take more than creeps to finish off the Golden Lion of Mistral,” Arslan braggedsaid. “I mean, I’ve got so much to live for. I haven’t even beaten Pyrrha yet.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Even so, you did get dragged underground by a grimm which had already bitten you once.”

Arslan ran one hand through her mane of pale blonde hair, shaking loose some of the dirt that was stuck there. “Not my first time.,” she said.

Sunset glanced at her but decided to hold off on asking for the details of that particular story until they were both safely out of this predicament. She finished reloading her rifle and snapped it shut once more.

She could still hear Gambol Shroud and Crescent Rose firing off to the south.

“You don’t mind if I take care of this quickly, do you?” Sunset said. It would cost her a bit of magic, but it would enable them to double back to the others in case they needed help that much sooner, which was worth it in her opinion.

Arslan made an ‘after you’ gesture. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you,” Sunset replied as she laid Sol Invictus on her lap and held out both her hands, her fingers spread out.

Fortunately, creeps were far from the toughest of grimm.

Sunset’s fingertips glowed with a soft green light for a moment before miniature blasts of magic, smaller than her palm blasts, only minute in diameter, began to leap down from those same fingertips to strike the grimm like thunderbolts. They were smaller blasts, and weaker than those she shot from her palms, but they flew faster by far, they flew at a rate of fire that would have done credit to at Atlesian rotary cannon, they flew so fast that Sunset’s fingers began to burn from the rate of her fire, they flew fast enough that the creeps could not escape her power by fleeing underground again. They were too slow, and her magic was too fast, and it was powerful enough to deal with their ilk.

The alpha took several blasts to kill, the others only one or two, dying as they howled, as they bit at the tree and tried in vain to bring it down, as they tried to burrow back beneath the earth.

They all died all the same, and in a brief space of time, there was nothing left of them.

Sunset winced a little at the burning pain in her fingers, which felt as though they were about to start smoking, as well as throbbing achingly to demand her constant and unceasing attention. She wished that she’d brought a canteen of water to cool them down with, for what little good it might have done.

She looked down to make sure that she had gotten all of the creeps. There was no sign of any more of them crawling up from out of the ground, fortunately.

“Neat semblance,” Arslan said. “Very versatile.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sunset grunted. “Now, once we get down, we need to head south again.”

“'South'?” Arslan repeated. “What do we want to head south for?”

“Can you not hear the gunfire?” Sunset demanded.

“Do you not remember this is supposed to be a test?” Arslan replied. “Of course they’re in a fight; we’re all supposed to be in fights.”

“We agreed to keep in touch so that we could help each other if we needed it.”

“They haven’t called to say they need it.”

“It’s a little hard to do when you’re fighting for your life,” Sunset said tartly. “If it’s nothing to worry about, the worst that happens is that we have to spend just a little longer in this forest; now I don’t know about you, but I’d rather that than abandon my friends.”

Arslan sighed. “Sure, whatever. Let’s go check on everybody else. Maybe we’ll meet them halfway coming to check on us.”

“That would be lovely,” Sunset said. “We’ll start with-”

The shrill shriek of a nevermore split the sky.

Sunset got up, balancing upon the branches of the tree, to see the avian grimm swooping through the air towards them. It was definitely at the larger end of the scale for its type, with black wings as wide as the Beacon docking pads and talons large enough to pick up an ursa in each one. Four red eyes burned in a bone mask covered in markings as red as blood. It cried out again as it dived towards them.

Sunset raised the palm of her hand, a bolt of magic leaping up to strike the nevermore upon its black-feathered breast. The grimm shrieked but did not deviate from its course.

It fell on Sunset, talons outstretched.

Sunset leapt from the tree, but too slow, or else the nevermore was too swift, for its black claws closed around her, pressing against her cuirass, squeezing her back as it carried her upwards into the blue above the forest, as though Sunset were a tortoise and the nevermore were an eagle which meant to drop her to the ground to smash her shell.

A knife flew out of the tree which had lately been Sunset’s perch, burying itself in the nevermore’s thigh as it ascended. The nevermore let out a harsh, croaking cry of pain and banked away, but as it flew, it carried Arslan with it, desperately clinging to the rope descending from her knife, bobbing up and down in the air as the wind ruffled through her wild mane and made her sashes flutter like streamers on a kite.

Arslan shouted something up to Sunset, but her words were snatched away by the air, and Sunset didn’t hear them.

“What?” Sunset yelled back.

“BOLIN!” Arslan roared. “BOLIN!”

Shamefully, it took Sunset a moment to realise what she meant, and when she realised, she was even more ashamed for not having come up with it herself.

Give me a break; I haven’t been here long.

Her hand glowed as she sought to draw Soteria with telekinesis. It was wedged a little bit, stuck thanks to the way to that the nevermore was holding her so tight, but with a little wriggling and writhing in its grasp – the grimm took no notice; it probably just thought she was trying to escape – she was able to free the venerable black blade, holding it in the grip of her magic, carrying it along beside her but never bearing it into her hand.

She had different plans in mind.

Just as she had with Bolin, just as Arslan had suggested, Sunset wielded the blade with magic, not with her hands, and with her magic, she wielded the sword far beyond her own reach, guiding it, swathed in green telekinetic glow, upwards to where the nevermore’s right wing beat against the air.

Sunset slashed at the wing where it metmade the grimm’s body, slicing at those black feathers, slashing at them, hacking at them. The nevermore screamed and weaved from side to side, but if its aim was to throw off Sunset, it was grievously disappointed. Sunset’s grip, her magical grip, was not disturbed, and this sword, this blade of heroes, this artiefact of an older and a nobler world, clove through the wing slowly but with a relentless certainty.

The nevermore screamed again, and as it screamed, its talons opened, and it released Sunset. The world spun around her, and then it was only Sunset’s hair spinning around her as it covered her eyes so that there was nothing in her view, nothing in her world, but a wheel of fire consuming her vision. She felt the air rushing past her, and could only imagine the ground rushing towards her, before she grabbed herself in the grip of her own magic.

She preferred to teleport, as a rule, and growing up in Equestria, she had had nothing but contempt for those unicorns who used their telekinesis on themselves to levitate and play at flight as though they were pegasi. She had always wanted to fly for real, upon real wings, and had preferred to wait for the day when she would earn such instead of playing at a second-rate imitation of the same.

But in this situation, it seemed like the best course of action.

Sunset’s hair fell out of her face as she hung, suspended, on her back as though the air beneath her had frozen solid.

Sunset had scarcely a moment to marvel at it before a cry from Arslan alerted her to the fact that her temporary partner was also falling towards the ground. Sunset gritted her teeth as she grabbed her too, holding her face down and facing the earth, and she was just about able to grab Sol Invictus and Soteria as well and pull them towards her as she gently, slowly lowered everyone and everything safely down to plant them harmlessly down on the ground.

She took a deep breath. That was… not as bad as she’d thought it would be. She kind of wished she’d taken it up years ago.

She still preferred teleporting though, as a rule.

A shrill, angry cry alerted them to the fact that the nevermore, injured by still very much alive, was descending upon them.

Actually, it might be more accurate to say that it was falling, its body wobbling a little as its damaged wing proved unequal to the task of keeping it aloft. Nevertheless, if it was falling, it was clear that it had chosen to fall towards them instead of anywhere else it might have gone, and its angry cries were directed towards the pair of them.

“Grab your sword,” Arslan told her. “With your hands.”

“Why?” Sunset asked, although she did as she was bidden and clasped the ornamented hilt of Soteria in her grasp.

“Trust me,” Arslan said.

“Why?” Sunset repeated.

The nevermore landed, crushing trees to splinters beneath its bulk, kicking up a storm of dust and wood shavings that momentarily engulfed Sunset and Arslan and made them shield their eyes against it.

When the dust storm cleared, they both beheld the nevermore, its injured wing hanging limp and useless, its red eyes burning with rage; with its talons and its one good wing, it crawled along the ground towards them.

Sunset let out a wordless squawk of alarm as Arslan grabbed her bodily around the waist and picked her up, carrying her like the ball in a game as she – Arslan – ran towards the nevermore, her moccasin-clad feet pattering along the brown earth as she charged towards the grimm in a weaving pattern, sometimes coming closer to its head and sometimes further away.

The nevermore snapped at them, its beak of black closing around the empty air as Arslan dodged aside and then, still carrying Sunset, leapt up into the air with a fierce spring that carried her beyond the nevermore’s head and over its black and feather-covered form.

“Now!” Arslan yelled as, with unerring skill, she threw Sunset head-first towards the nevemore’s neck.

Sunset thrust out Soteria like a lance and buried the blade in the nape of the neck, just at the back of the bleached white skull.

The nevermore reared up, screaming in pain, its whole body convulsing for a moment before the entire monstrous creature flopped forwards onto the ground and began to smoke, turning to ashes before Sunset’s eyes.

Sunset withdrew her sword and leapt down onto the ground. “You could have told me that was your plan.”

Arslan grinned as she landed next to her. “Be honest: it was more fun finding out that way, wasn’t it?”

Sunset huffed. “Pyrrha would never just pick me up and throw me like that.”

“No, I bet she wouldn’t,” Arslan replied, “but I’m not Pyrrha Nikos, am I?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “I thought you were over that.” She pulled out her scroll and checked her aura. “I’m at the top end of yellow; how about you?”

Arslan checked her level on her own scroll. “Same here. Still sure that this is what you want to do with your life?”

“What I want to do right now is make sure that my friends are okay,” Sunset declared. “We need to go…” She looked around, but of course the nevermore had carried them off… somewhere, somewhere with no sign of the path. “Hang on, just let me connect to the rest of my team.” She tapped away at her scroll; she could start off by linking back up to their scrolls, and then she could use that to locate them. Directory, Team SAPR-

“No,” Sunset whispered. “No, that can’t be right.”

“What?” Arslan asked.

“Ruby… Ruby’s aura’s broken,” Sunset muttered. “It’s gone.” Her hands shook as she sought to locate her partner – her real partner – via her scroll; she fumbled, she mistyped, she struggled to remember what to do because Ruby’s aura was broken, and she was out there with… with Blake. She had to remember that; Ruby wasn’t alone just because Sunset wasn’t there. She was with Blake, and Blake… Blake was made of the right stuff. Blake would keep Ruby safe until Sunset got there; there was no way Blake would let Ruby come to harm, not while there was breath in her.

That thought, that knowledge, that trust was about the only thing that let Sunset concentrate as she completed her task, manipulating the link between the two scrolls, homing in on Ruby, or her scroll at least; if she wasn’t with her scroll, then-

No. No, she couldn’t think about that. Ruby was with her scroll and Blake both, and Ruby’s scroll was – there! To the south, along the path that she and Blake had started on. It was a way, but Sunset could teleport there in leaps perhaps, jumping as far as she could see… would that leave her with enough magic when she got there?

She’d balance it out, judge it as it came.

But then there was the question of Arslan.

“Go,” Arslan said. “Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll catch up.”

Sunset sent her the location. “There,” she said. “How did you-?”

“You weren’t exactly hiding your worry,” Arslan told her. “Go. Help your friend. I’ll be right behind you.”

A mist began to creep into the clearing, a thick fog of impenetrable grey tinged with black, sweeping out of the trees, gliding towards them.

Arslan’s hands clenched into fists. “I’ll be right behind you… once I’ve taken care of whatever this is.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want whatever this is following you all the way back to your teammates?” Arslan asked. “Go. Save her. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t even-”

“I am the Golden Lion of Mistral,” Arslan declared, settling into a fighting stance as the mist crept closer. “Only one person living can defeat me, and she doesn’t go around carrying a smoke machine. Now get out of here!”

Sunset didn’t need to be told a third time. “Thank you,” she said, and then she didn’t wait for Arslan to reply before she took to her heels, teleporting as far into the forest as she could see before starting to run, leaving the Golden Lion behind to face the fog.

Hang on, Ruby, I’m coming.

Golden Lion (New)

Golden Lion

Arslan watched the mist and waited for the appearance of whatever monster the mist should herald. And, as she waited, she narrated to herself.

My lords, ladies, gentlemen, and citizens, you are about to witness an extraordinary and unique display! Right here, for one day only, we are proud to present an exhibition match between Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral, and-

The grimm emerged from out of the woods wreathed in smoke and shadow, and yet so tall that it rose above them both.

-and the ugliest thing I have ever seen.

It was a mushroom. It was a grimm mushroom with arms and legs. It was black, as all grimm were, although the mushroom cap which sat atop its head like a kind of hat was covered in red flashes and stripes, none of which stopped it from looking like it had gone rotten from neglect. Its face was a white bone mask but which kind of resembled a flattened version of a human face, at least as far as the jaw; its mouth, if it had one, was covered up by oily black tentacles that dangled down from its bony mask. Its eyes were red as burning coals and gleamed in the mist above the flat nose and the dangling tentacles. Its arms were as thick as tree trunks and ended in a trio of crab-like claws – they too were white; their thickness was the layer of bony armour that covered them, and from each arm, a quartet of sharp white spines protruded – while its legs were thicker still and stumpy in the extreme.

Arslan had never seen anything like it, and a part of her wished that she’d paid a little more attention in class.

She bared her teeth. Never mind what it was; with the way that it was plodding forward, it obviously couldn’t move very fast; she could run rings around it easily. It might be tough, but so long as she stayed away from those arms and hit it from behind or from the flanks, then she’d be fine.

She’d have this wrapped up in moments, and then she could catch up with Sunset.

Arslan’s bared teeth turned into a somewhat snarling smile. She crouched down, bending even lower to the ground.

A low hissing sound escaped the hideous grimm as it bore down upon her, moving slowly, its steps thudding upon the ground. The mist advanced before it.

Three, two, one… begin!

Arslan kicked off, dashing swiftly forwards; lions were faster than men, and when it came to pure running speed, she was a mite faster than Pyrrha was. She wasn’t faster when it came to the exchange of blows in battle, worse luck, but that wasn’t going to be a problem here. She charged straight for it, her mind dashing faster than her feet as it planned out her movements in her head, predicting the grimm’s countermoves as the fight played out in her mind’s eye long before a single punch was thrown or kick was made. She would feint a direct assault, then swerve at the last possible moment and come at it from the left.

She charged into the mist and staggered to a halt, a sudden cough rising from out of the depths of her throat. She stopped, one hand involuntarily clutching her chest, as she coughed twice more.

The grimm hissed as it advanced upon her.

Arslan shook her head. She needed to shake this. She couldn’t be distracted by hayfever or whatever now. She needed to- she coughed again, more violently this time, her body close to doubling over as it shook with the strain of her coughing. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes were watering, she couldn’t see clearly; Arslan coughed again, hard enough to make her head ache from the vibrations; she breathed in deeply, desperately, breathing in of the mist around her and yet feeling as though she hadn’t breathed at all.

The mist… the mist…the mist! Some grimm, they… they had special properties, right? It wasn’t just the ones who ripped your arms and ate your face, was it? There… there were stories, legends, grimm who could turn you into stone if you looked at them, grimm who… grimm who…

The grimm continued to plod forwards, and this time, the rattle from its throat sounded a lot like snickering laughter.

Arslan coughed again, and this time, she really was bent double, coughing and spluttering and choking on the mist. She had to get out of here. She had to… she had to… she had to…

She had to get on the chariot.

Arslan blinked rapidly as the sun fell down upon her face. What… what had she been thinking about just then?

“Miss Altan, is everything alright?” Professor Lionheart asked solicitously.

“Um… yes, Professor, everything’s fine, I think,” Arslan said. “I was just… for a moment, I felt as though I was somewhere else.”

Professor Lionheart chuckled genially. “Daydreaming, Miss Altan? Why, isn’t this day enough of a dream come true without dreaming of other things?”

Arslan laughed. “Sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to keep Mistral waiting.”

Yes. That was right. Mistral was waiting for her. Mistral was waiting for her. For Arslan Altan, a kid from the lower slopes. She had been born to nothing, yet today, the city waited upon her, lined the streets to celebrate her triumph.

For today, she was the Champion.

The chariot was waiting. It was pulled by four white horses in harness of deep crimson, and the chariot itself was gold and engraved with images of the gods of old Mistral: Seraphis, the lord of the sky, and his sister-wife Re; Tithys, the lord of the ocean, and his bride Amphitryte and their seven sea-nymph daughters. The chariot was large enough for three, and the driver was already aboard and waiting for Arslan. Waiting too was Victory, the personification of martial triumph over one’s enemies.

Okay, so the woman actually waiting for her in the chariot was a classically trained actress with a good theatrical pedigree, but she was dressed as Victory, with a golden wig and a crested helmet on her head and a cloak of spun gold worn over the shoulders of her gilded cuirass. She held a spear in one hand, and a shield decorated with the snarling head of a manticore was on her arm.

Victory and the driver alike were waiting upon Arslan. Everyone was waiting on Arslan. Already the streets would be lined with crowds, and the Lord Steward himself would be waiting for her at the Temple of Victory. All she had to do was get in the chariot.

All she had to do was get in the chariot, and she would be borne through the streets, showered with accolades, praised beyond measure until the cheering of the crowd lifted her up to heaven itself. Then the Steward would place the laurel wreath upon her brow, and she would enter the temple and dedicate the supreme spoils.

She would be immortal. Eternal glory was hers, would be hers once she walked into that temple. Her name would be recorded as a Champion of Mistral alongside the likes of Peter the Wolf; of Heracleia, who had worn a lionskin and who had been Arslan’s idol growing up; alongside the name of Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl. They would be equals at last.

Pyrrha.

Arslan frowned. “Professor… what am I doing here?”

Professor Lionheart blinked. “Whatever do you mean, child? You are the Champion of Mistral, and everyone is waiting for you.”

“I know that, Professor, and I’m sorry to keep everyone waiting, but… how did I get here? Why am I the champion? How did I beat Pyrrha? I don’t remember it at all.”

Professor Lionheart chuckled. “How did you defeat Pyrrha? Why, Miss Altan, surely, you know the answer to that? You didn’t. Pyrrha has retired, don’t you recall?”

Yes. Yes, that was right. Yes, Arslan remembered now. Pyrrha had retired. Pyrrha had quit, walked away from it all. And so Arslan, unchallenged, had walked to victory, trampling all other fighters to dust beneath her chariot wheels. Michael, Vespa, Phoebe, none of them could stand before her.

And so, this was the hour of the lion. Her hour. This was all she’d ever wanted.

Wasn’t it?

Then why did it feel so hollow? So empty?

Why did the idea of getting on that chariot feel so wrong?

“Miss Altan,” Professor Lionheart said. “Everyone is waiting for you. Mistral is waiting.”

Arslan shook her head. “I’m not sure that I want this, Professor.”

“Not sure if you want it?” Professor Lionheart repeated, aghast. “Miss Altan, we are talking about being the Champion of Mistral! Your name will live on so long as the city endures!”

“I know,” Arslan murmured. “And I want it, more than anything-“

“Then take it.”

“I can’t.”

“Miss Altan, why in Remnant not?!”

“Because I want to earn it,” Arslan insisted.

“You have earned it; you have triumphed in the arena-”

“Not where it counts,” Arslan declared. “Not in the battle that matters the most. I mean no insult to my fellow fighters… well, okay, maybe I do, but they’ll all understand because any one of them would feel the same way in my place. I want to be the Champion, but not by default. I don’t want to catch the laurel as it falls down from on high; I want to pry the honours from off Pyrrha’s brow while she fights to keep them with every breath! I want to win. I want to earn all this. All this… this isn’t what I want at all.

It disappeared: the chariot, the actress dressed as Victory, Professor Lionheart, all of it gone. She wasn’t in Mistral any more. She was…

She was in the Emerald Forest, on her knees in a clearing there, and that ugly grimm was looming over her, glaring balefully down upon her, bringing down one of its crab claws to crush her head like a ripened watermelon.

Arslan’s hands moved as swift as thought; with one hand, she blocked the claw aiming for her head, slamming her hand into the claw with a jarring thud; with the other hand, as she rose to her feet, she swung for the grimm’s face.

It brought its own free claw in to block her in turn, moving faster than she would have thought, based on how slowly it walked; her hand slid off the protruding spines that jutted from the bone.

Arslan leapt away in a springing backflip that carried her across the meadow; she landed on her hands and then sprung again, landing on her feet this time, a greater distance from the grimm.

The mist had gone. It had vanished as though it had never been. Arslan could breathe again. It was as though it couldn’t affect her now that she’d fought it off the first time.

Probably that was exactly how it worked.

She grinned. “Not that it’s gonna matter now, but if you want to trap me in a hallucination, give me something that I earned.”

The grimm hissed at her.

Lords, ladies, gentlemen, and citizens, we apologise for that interruption; the fight will resume immediately.

Okay. He’s a little faster with his arms than I expected. But how quick does he turn?

Arslan dashed forwards, feinting a frontal assault, just as she had planned to do before; only this time, there was no hallucinatory mist to get in her way.

This time, you're mine!

The grimm hissed; it did not advance to meet her but stayed rooted to the spot on which it stood, planting its vast legs wide apart, waiting for her with its claws held up before it as though to shield its face.

Arslan raced ahead, closing the distance between the monster and the gladiator, waiting until the last possible moment, when she turned, sidestepping with a dancer's grace and the swiftness of a plains predator to come at the grimm not from the front but from the side, her fist snapping outwards to strike-

The grimm turned. No, it didn't turn; it swivelled; it moved as though its whole body was flexible, as though there was nothing to stop its upper body moving ninety degrees at the waist while its legs remained still.

Obviously, there was nothing stopping it, but that didn't make it any less bizarre to look at. The grimm swivelled and caught Arslan's punch upon the thick bony armour of one claw.

With the other spine-protruding claw, it struck her with a backhand blow while she was too surprised by what had just happened to react; it hit Arslan hard enough to knock her across the clearing, slamming her into a tree so hard that the trunk cracked. She didn't need to look at her scroll to know that her aura had just dropped more than a little.

What a turn of speed! Could Arslan be in trouble this time?

Arslan leapt back up to her feet.

But she's back on her feet and ready for more with no sign of giving up, and isn't that what we love her for in the end? That she's a girl who never gives up?

It's that or my charity work.

She went for it again, trying to find an angle, trying to find an opening, trying to find somewhere that she could get at it where it would be too slow off the mark to defend itself.

If such a place existed, it was hard to find. This thing was slow on its feet, but its claws were like lightning, and the way it contorted its body like rubber meant that it had no difficulty getting into position to oppose; whether she came at it from behind or from the flanks, she would always find its face waiting for her, and both claws too.

It didn't score another big hit on her – she was ready for it by now and no longer taken by surprise – but the fact that it couldn't hit her wasn't much comfort, considering that she couldn't land a solid hit on it either.

She wasn't even getting much of the measure of it, or if she was, it was a measure that suggested that in a slugging match, she might falter before it did. Whenever they came together, from whatever angle they came together, the pattern was always the same: Arslan's attempt to find an unprotected spot was frustrated, and the two would be left furiously trading blows, fists and claws alike a blur of motion, block followed by counterblock followed by a counter to the counter. Arslan's hands met claws again and again, neither able to land a decisive blow. But always, it was Arlsan who retreated, wary of a misstep, wary of the grimm slipping through her guard to land another devastating blow to take her aura down into the red.

She retreated, leaping away from an enemy that did not pursue her. She was reminded uncomfortably of the first time that she had ever fought Pyrrha: Arslan had strutted into the arena expecting to find an aristocratic dilettante; instead, she had found a warrior.

And she didn't have four years to spend losing to this thing.

And it looks like this battle is at a stalemate, but Arslan's aura is chipped away with every strike! What can the Golden Lion do to bring this match to a conclusion before her aura runs out?

I don't know yet, okay, just give me a second.

Arslan took a deep breath, waiting, watching her enemy.

Her enemy who made no move to come to her. The grimm appeared to have given up on walking as all a bit much. It simply stood, rooted to the earth.

Rooted.

That's it!

Arslan charged again, rushing forward once again, heading straight for her opponent. The grimm was facing her, and once more, it let out that snickering sound as the tentacles that hung down beneath its mask shook back and forth.

And another frontal charge from Arslan! Does she have anything at all up her sleeve?

Keep watching and you'll find out.

It was facing her, but because of the fact that it only turned the upper half of its body in any direction, its legs were side-on to her, one after another.

And so, this time, as she charged, Arslan did not turn, did not attempt to flank or slip around the rear; this time, as she charged, she dropped to the ground and skidded the rest of the way, sweeping the grimm's legs out from under it with a single kick.

The grimm topped, claws flailing, the eyes in its mask seeming to widen as it fell down towards and upon her. Arslan struck before it had the chance, a palm strike straight to the face which, amplified by a touch of her aura expelled outwards, hurled the flailing grimm up into the air.

And the crowd goes wild!

Arslan leapt up after it, her legs propelling into the air, flying like a rocket towards her enemy, one fist cocked back.

Arslan enjoyed the look of seeming helplessness upon the face of the grimm before she slammed her fist right into its mask, putting more than half of her remaining aura behind a blow so powerful that it shattered the grimm's face and punched a hole clean through its body.

It was turning to ash which drifted away on the wind as Arslan landed on the ground once more.

Look at that! Look at that! I can kill monsters as easily as you can, Pyrrha!

I just don't want to, is all.

Arslan stood, alone in the clearing, one fist raised in triumph; she held the pose for a moment before she slumped forwards. That had been tougher than she had expected. If inspiration hadn't struck her when it did… she would have died. It was enough to make you believe that, as the old stories put it, some god was putting ideas into your mind.

More to the point, this was what Pyrrha wanted? When all the glories of Mistral lay at her feet, she wanted to spend her time battling monsters who might, without warning, turn out to be so much stronger than you expected them to be?

So much stronger than you?

Arslan didn't know if that made Pyrrha touched in the head… or just incredibly brave.

Or both. Both was always a possibility.

Arslan had come to the great heroic epics of Mistral comparatively late; it had taken her until last year to work up the courage to try The Mistraliad, even though it was supposed to be a must-read for circuit fighters like her. She'd loved it, no questions about that, just as there was no doubt in Arslan's mind that it had been written – or composed, whatever – by a warrior, by someone who understood what it was to fight for glory and to ensure that you were not forgotten, but she had also felt that, alongside the courage and the ambition that drove on the heroes, there was also a touch of… obsession, madness, call it what you like, but it was there. She hadn't been able to ignore it.

If Pyrrha had that too, then… Arslan supposed it made sense.

The screeching of a nevermore flying overhead reminded Arslan that the day was not yet done. She checked her scroll as she retreated into the cover of the trees; her aura was deeper in the yellow than it had been before, almost but not quite in the red. And Ruby Rose, Sunset's real partner, was somewhere to the south of her.

Arslan gritted her teeth and hoped she had enough aura left for more fighting before the day was out as she set off in the direction.

This, Ozpin had to admit, was not going at all well.

These exercises were supposed to be challenging, of course; all of the students had signed up for an occupation where death was not only a fact of life but a quite likely possibility, and so it was fitting that even the exercises that they undertook carried with them at least the risk of death or serious injury.

That was why they had practical exercises like this, pitting the students against the grimm in their natural habitat, putting their lives upon the line. That was why the forest had been baited in order to draw grimm to where the students were, because this was not supposed to be a walk through the woods but a battle against the creatures of darkness.

And yet, he had not anticipated that there would be quite so many grimm drawn to the students.

It was not just that the students were finding the exercise challenging; rather that, as he flicked through the views offered by some of the cameras embedded throughout the forest, Ozpin found that he was witnessing the exercise descend into chaos. Mister Arc and Mister Sentry were on the run, Miss Sparkle and Mister Ayana were not doing very much better. Miss Rose was down, and only the valour and prodigious skill of Miss Belladonna was keeping Summer’s girl alive.

Miss Shimmer and Miss Altan, he had last seen being carried off by a nevermore. He had not been able to find them since. For all he knew, they were both dead already.

It was a risk. Death was a huntress’ closest companion, one who would stay by their sides when all friends forsook them. Sometimes, death took those who showed the greatest promise; it was no respecter of potential, nor did it care that its latest victim might have their whole life before them.

If Miss Shimmer and Miss Altan were dead, then he did not find the fact incredible, but he was more than a little concerned that so much hell was breaking loose in the Emerald Forest now.

“Peter,” Ozpin said mildly, “just how many lures did you set in the forest?”

“Not enough to cause this, Oz!” Port protested vehemently. “I expected to lure in groups of beowolves or ursai at intervals, not to draw in so many grimm all at once!”

“Of course,” Ozpin said. “Forgive me, I… I had to make sure.” In truth, he should not have doubted Peter’s skill and judgement in the matter; for all that some of the students found it hard to look past his manner, Professor Port knew what he was doing, and he would not have made a miscalculation like this.

Unfortunately, accidents happened from time to time, and the grimm were wild creatures. Only one person could control them, or predict what they might do, and he was not that person.

More important than the question of how this had happened – a question without an answer if ever there was one – was the question of what to do about it.

He was not inherently opposed to the idea of letting the exercise continue. They were, some of them at least, some of the most gifted students to walk the halls of Beacon in many a year; Miss Altan was reckoned second only to Miss Nikos in her skill at arms in her own kingdom; Miss Sparkle was a weak link, true, but Ozpin had faith that the others would protect her. If they survived, they would emerge from this far stronger and with a belief in themselves that would carry them through the – perhaps far harder – challenges to come.

If they did not…

Ozpin closed his eyes. That was the rub, wasn’t it? If they did not survive, then so much would have been lost in those young lives and all the promise that they represented.

So much might have been lost already.

In any event, it was clear that the exercise could not continue as planned; nevermores were beginning to fill the skies over the Emerald Forest – the most visible sign that things were not going wholly according to plan – and they would make inserting any more students into the forest by air fraught with risk for both the pilots and the students. For that matter, they would make getting the students already in the forest out again more than a little difficult under the current circumstances.

Ozpin’s eyes were drawn inexorably upwards, to where one of James’ unspeakably hideous cruisers was currently defacing the skyline nearby.

An eyesore it might have been, but, well…

Unfortunately, I think he will be too upset that I put Miss Sparkle in this position to be smug about this. A pity; I would rather endure his smugness than his righteous anger. Under certain circumstances, Ozpin found James in the full flow of his temper to be rather magnificent; just not when it was directed at him.

However, before he could get in touch with James and ask him on bended knee ‘please, sir, will your armed might rescue my students?’ Ozpin himself received a communication from Councillor Novo Aris.

Ozpin endeavoured to conceal the impatience from his face and voice as he answered. “Madame Councillor, ordinarily, it would be a delight to speak with you, but I’m afraid-”

“Oh, is this inconvenient for you?” Novo asked. “Then perhaps you’ll begin to understand how I feel every time I have to deal with some more of your nonsense; something which I cannot help but notice is becoming more and more frequent.”

“It does seem we are living in interesting times at present, Madame Councillor, and I would be happy to discuss your concerns-”

“What concerns me presently,” Novo said, “is the fact that the Civil Defence hotline is being besieged with callers reporting Nevermore sightings to the northwest. Which would put them over the Emerald Forest, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not, Madame Councillor,” Ozpin admitted.

“What’s going on, Ozpin?” Novo demanded wearily.

“An exercise for some of our students in the Emerald Forest appears to have gotten just a little out of hand,” Ozpin confessed.

“‘An exercise,’” Novo repeated. “I see. Carry on with that, then, and I shall brief the press that there is nothing to worry about.”

“Indeed, Madame Councillor, I was just about to request the assistance of the Atlesian forces in clearing the skies. You may rest assured that-”

“No.”

Ozpin blinked. “No, Madame Councillor.”

“No, you will not request the assistance of the Atlesians,” Novo declared. “Their forces will remain protecting Vale and not make any aggressive movements. If the Atlesians move to engage these grimm, then it proves that there was something to worry about and that this was not a simple and routine exercise for your students. Ozpin, this city cannot afford any more panic-inducing crises.”

Normally, Ozpin was very much in favour of doing everything possible to avoid panic, but in these particular circumstances, he felt compelled to say, “Madame Councillor I have students in the forest whom aid cannot reach so long as those nevermores dominate the skies.”

“Isn’t that what they signed up for?” Novo asked tartly.

“In a manner of speaking, yes, but… I implore you, Madame Councillor, if nothing is done, they will die.”

Councillor Aris was silent for a moment. “That,” she said softly, “is regrettable, but my decision stands. Handle this yourself however you wish, but you will not involve the Atlesians or the Valish Defence Forces; do I make myself clear?”

Ozpin fought the desire to throw his scroll off the landing pad. “Crystal clear, Madame Councillor.”

So. That was that. He had to have faith in the students. Some of them, to be sure, were well-worthy of such faith. They had done so much already, and if they lived…

If they lived, then their legends would be burnished yet brighter still.

He had to have faith in them.

And hope his faith was not misplaced.

General Ironwood paused for a moment from reading a report on the state of repairs made to the Green Line to wonder how the exercise in the Emerald Forest was proceeding.

He would never be so childish as to admit the fact, but there was a part of him that was hoping his students managed to outdo Oz’s in the forest, in the same way that he hoped they would in the Vytal Festival.

Some might call it petty, to which General Ironwood would reply that you couldn’t climb to the very summit of your profession without having some sense of pride in your accomplishments.

And besides, it was good to cut Oz down to size every now and then. It made him seem a little less remote. Less like a god.

Oh, well. That was some news to look forward to later.

He returned to reading the report. Good progress was being made by the CBs. If, in the worst case scenario, a major attack fell on them, they would be able to fight it from behind adequate defences if this kept up.

A low whistling sound, and the flashing green light on his desk that accompanied it, alerted Ironwood to the fact that he was getting a call from the Valiant’s CIC.

General Ironwood pushed the small grey button that sat just below the blinking light. “This is Ironwood.”

“Sir,” the voice belonged to Ensign Brentwood, one of the comms officers aboard the Valiant. He was a young man, only eighteen years old, and his voice shook a little. “Sir, we’re picking up large numbers of nevermores concentrating over the Emerald Forest. Spitfire is requesting reinforcements and permission to engage.”

Spitfire, leader of Wonderbolt Squadron, was leading the CAP this morning; if this did turn into an air fight, that would go down as quite a lucky break for the Atlesians.

General Ironwood frowned. “Did you say the Emerald Forest?”

“Yes, sir.”

General Ironwood rose to his feet. “How many nevermores?”

“Twenty, sir, most of them are just circling at the moment; one or two are diving for the ground.”

“Tell Spitfire to adopt a defensive posture and await further orders; I’m on my way to the bridge,” Ironwood said.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

General Ironwood strode for the door, and as he did so, he pulled out his scroll. As the door into his office slid open – and the marine on guard outside saluted him, a gesture Ironwood acknowledged perfunctorily with one hand – he was pulling Ozpin out of his directory.

As he strode down the corridors of the Valiant, his boots thudding upon the metal flooring, he was calling the old man.

Ozpin replied voice only, and the voice that emerged from out of the scroll was a little tight. “James, I take it that you’re calling about the situation in the Emerald Forest.”

“I was calling about the situation over the forest,” Ironwood corrected. “What’s going on inside the forest?”

“It appears that the lures set up to draw in grimm for the exercise may have worked a little too well,” Ozpin replied. “I must say I didn’t anticipate this level of grimm activity.”

Ironwood paused in his stride for a moment. “How bad is it?”

“Nothing that our students can’t handle, I hope,” Ozpin said. “Not least because it’s impossible to get them out in the present circumstances; with all of those nevermores about, it would be madness to risk Bullheads in the area.”

“My pilots want to clear the skies for you,” Ironwood pointed out.

“I’m sure they do, James,” Ozpin replied, a slight sigh entering his voice. “When one has a skill, one wants to put it to good use, after all. But I’m afraid that I must decline. Councillor Aris insists upon it.”

“What?” Ironwood demanded.

“She is afraid that the deployment of your forces will suggest that something is amiss,” Ozpin explained. “She wishes everything to proceed as normal, in order to prevent a panic.”

Ironwood’s jaw tightened. Panic, panic, always panic! Ozpin, the Council, everyone was so concerned with avoiding panic. You didn’t avoid panic by sticking your head in a hole and pretending that the problem wasn’t there; yes, you might steal some peace of mind for a little while, but only until the problem reminded you that it was very much there by chewing on your leg. You avoided panic by putting the problem down, quickly and with extreme prejudice.

But this was Vale, and the Valish got to set the rules. Up to a point.

“Who’s down there?” he asked.

“Sunset Shimmer, Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc,” Ozpin said.

“Are you sure that this was unintended?”

“James, please, their presence is a complete coincidence.”

“And you’re willing to risk their lives?” Ironwood asked.

“I don’t like this any more than you do, but the Council is a fact of life, and Councillor Aris still looks set to win re-election, meaning that I must continue to deal with her and her party for the foreseeable future. As for the students, I have no doubt… no, James, you know me better than that; I am besieged by doubt. Yet I have hope that they will rise to the occasion, just as their predecessors did so long ago. They are joined by Blake Belladonna, in whom you should also have every confidence, Arslan Altan and Sage Ayana of Haven Academy, and…”

The fact that he hesitated told Ironwood that he wasn’t going to like whatever Ozpin had to say next. “Go on,” he demanded.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“Damn it, Oz!”

“She is joined in the forest by a very capable Haven Student-”

A capable Haven student; are you sure that’s not an oxymoron? Ironwood thought bitterly. “You sent Twilight in the first wave, and now she’s stuck in the forest when all hell breaks loose?”

“You chose to have her masquerade as a student, James; was I not supposed to indulge your little charade?”

“You could have not indulged it quite so much,” Ironwood replied. “I’m calling Councillor Aris myself.”

“I wish you luck, James, really I do,” Ozpin said. “Let me know if you have the green light to send in your forces.”

“I will,” James agreed before he hung up the call.

He called Councillor Aris immediately.

She answered quickly enough and did not look all that surprised to see him. “Good morning, General Ironwood,” she said. “The answer is no.”

“You haven’t even heard the question, Councillor.”

“You want to unleash your forces on those nevermores over the Emerald Forest,” Councillor Aris said. “Or am I wrong?”

“No,” Ironwood admitted. “You are not, Councillor.”

“Then the answer is no.”

“Councillor, I have a student down there in the forest-”

“And their plight is unfortunate, but I must take a broader view of these matters,” Councillor Aris declared. “I would have thought that you would be able to do the same.”

“My view is clear enough, Councillor,” Ironwood stated firmly.

Councillor Aris sucked in a breath sharply. “If the people believe that there is a grimm attack in progress, they will panic-”

“There will be no panic, because my forces will take care of this before there is time to panic,” Ironwood declared.

“And that panic will bring more grimm to the door!” Councillor Aris said.

“Then we will fight them too and kill them too!” Ironwood shouted. “Councillor, there are lives at stake.”

“Yes,” Councillor Aris agreed. “There are lives at stake, millions of lives, a city’s worth of lives. And for their sake, your ships will remain deployed over Vale, as they are now.”

General Ironwood noted that if this had been Atlas, he would have already hung up on the Council by now and done whatever he felt was right regardless, but this was not Atlas, and he was only here by the consent of the Valish council, consent which could be withdrawn at any time. If he acted now to save Twilight, then he would lose the ability to protect all his students against anything that might happen later.

Damn you, Councillor. “Councillor, I must protest.”

“That is your right,” Councillor Aris said. “Contravening my instructions in this is not. Good day, General.” She hung up.

Ironwood gritted his teeth and fought the desire to make a dent in the wall. It might make him feel better, but it might alarm some of the younger officers and personnel.

Nevertheless, it took him a minute to collect himself. This was why he hated politics.

Once he had composed himself as an officer ought to be composed, Ironwood made his way to the bridge. As the door opened to admit him, a shrill whistle cut through the air of the CIC.

“General on deck!”

“Signal the Colton,” Ironwood commanded as he strode into the midst of the command centre, a nest of consoles and command stations being crewed by young men and women in the whites of the Atlesian navy, while older and more senior officers kept diligent watch over them. “I want Wonderbolt, Red, and Blue squadrons in the air immediately. And get me Spitfire on the line.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

In a moment, the harsh voice of Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts filled the bridge. “This is Wonderbolt Leader.”

“Wonderbolt Leader, this is General Ironwood,” Ironwood said, “you are to form up Wonderbolt and Red Squadrons above the Green Line and hold position until I direct you otherwise. You are not to engage the grimm unless they come within two clicks of your position. Vigilant and Courageous will provide close support. Do you understand?” The Green Line was still technically ‘over Vale,’ so he wasn’t breaking the First Councillor’s edict, even if he wasn’t bending it as much as he might have liked to be able to.

“I don’t really understand why we’re not shooting them up, sir.”

You’re not the only one. “The students are conducting an exercise in the Emerald Forest, and the Valish Council has decided to let it continue undisturbed.”

Spitfire was silent for a moment. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“That’s a lot of nevermores, General, and they’re just kids. We don’t have to bomb the forest, but we could at least clear the skies for them.”

“The Council disagrees.”

“Medical evac is going to be hot with those nevermores around, sir.”

“Thank you, Captain, I’m aware!” Ironwood yelled. He took a deep breath. “I am aware. And you have your orders.”

“Yes sir,” Spitfire said. “Sorry, sir.”

“No need to apologise for being right,” Ironwood said. “Ironwood out.” To his officers on the bridge, he added, “Have Blue Squadron and the Resolution take up position over Beacon; if any of those nevermores come close to the cliffs, they’re to let them have it with both barrels.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The last straw for Pyrrha was the Atlesian cruiser, flanked on either side by smaller combat airships, gliding in a stately fashion over the school towards the cliffs.

That was the point when it became impossible to deny that something had gone wrong. That was the point at which she could no longer tell herself that she was worrying over nothing. A warship, with escorts out, was heading towards the cliffs, or even to the Emerald Forest beyond.

They weren’t doing that because they wanted a better view of an exercise that was going perfectly.

A glance at Team RSPT confirmed that they were thinking the same thing.

The question was, 'what were they going to do about it? '

What was she going to do about it?

She might have added 'what was Professor Ozpin going to do about it?' but, even as she thought it, she realised that was almost beside the point. Yes, he was the headmaster, and yes, she had been brought up to respect her elders and her betters, but in this moment, none of that mattered. Not even the fact that Sunset, Ruby, Jaune, or even Blake wouldn’t have hesitated to come to her aid if she were in trouble mattered right now.

“What’s going on?” Penny asked.

“We don’t know, Penny,” Ciel replied. “We are in the dark.”

“That’s a figure of speech, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Penny, yes, it is,” Ciel murmured.

“I’m going to call the General,” Rainbow said. “He must know what’s going on, or he wouldn’t have deployed a cruiser.”

“Do that,” Pyrrha said. “I hope you catch up.” Because it didn’t matter what General Ironwood was doing or what he wanted from Rainbow Dash and the rest of Team RSPT either.

All that mattered, in this moment, was that her friends had need of her.

So Pyrrha turned and pushed her way gently through the mass of students all around her, and once she was free of the press, she began to run.

She ran, heedless of Professor Port’s voice calling out to her, heedless of the sound of her scroll buzzing, heedless of all of it except the need.

Her feet carried her swiftly; she was not as fast as Ruby; she could not run so swiftly that she could run over the ocean without wetting her feet, as Camilla of old was reputed to have done; but nevertheless, she had been blessed with fast feet as well as strong arms, and those fast feet bore her winged speed over the grassy lawns and paved paths of Beacon.

It did not take Pyrrha too long to realise that she was not running alone. She glanced to her side to see Cinder Fall keeping pace with her.

“I hope you don’t mind the company,” Cinder managed to drawl even while running, “but if Sunset is in difficulty, I’d like to be of assistance.”

Pyrrha would have dearly liked to refuse her, but in the circumstances, it would have been not only rude but foolish too; they might need all the help they could get.

And so they ran on, passing beneath the Atlesian cruiser as it held position just beyond the tower, passing into and without its shadow, running towards the cliffs as their hair streamed out behind them.

They would be fine. They would all be fine. So Pyrrha told herself, to calm the beating of a heart that was pounding fast enough already simply with running.

They would be fine. They would all be fine. Because she would rescue them.

The sunlight glimmered off her armour, and Pyrrha’s red hair trailed behind her like a banner as she leapt from the cliff and plunged, headfirst, into the forest.

No Hero (New)

No Hero

Twilight yelled incoherently as she fired the laser carbine mounted to her arm. Lavender bolts emerged in a constant crackling stream to strike the flank of the ursa major that straddled Sage’s unmoving form.

Some of the bolts struck the plates of bleached bone that served as armour on the creature’s side, others avoided plates and spurs alike to thud into the black flesh of the beast itself; neither seemed to do the grimm any harm.

But they did attract its attention.

The ursa major turned its enormous head, with those jaws that looked strong enough to snap Twilight in two and large enough to swallow her torso whole, towards her. It let out an angry huff in her direction before rearing up onto its hind legs and turning its whole considerably muscular bulk in her direction.

The wordless shout died in Twilight’s throat. “Okay,” she murmured. “Now I’ve got your attention, aha.”

She took a step back.

A beowolf, perhaps – hopefully – the last one that was still alive from the group that had waylaid them, poked its head out of the bushes.

Twilight yelped in alarm and pointed her arm towards it, lavender laser bolts erupting one after another.

She kept on firing long after the beowolf’s head had been blown clean off by the third bolt. The weapons systems built into her as-yet still nameless armour – and they were all built into her armour, not least so they would all count as one weapon for official purposes – didn’t have triggers as such. Rather, when she put on the armour, a synaptic relay mounted on the collar bit into the nape of Twilight’s neck and connected via electrodes to her spinal column, allowing Twilight to arm and deploy all her weapons just by thinking about them.

Considering that this mess of a battle had started when a beowolf had jumped on her hard enough to throw her to the ground and that she would have almost certainly lost any weapon that she had been able to drop at that point, Twilight felt that her approach was being vindicated right now.

The ursa major growled and began to advance upon her. Each step thudded into the ground.

Twilight raised her right arm towards it and let it have it with another salvo from her built-in carbine. The lavender bolts struck the ursa in the chest and belly but seemingly did no more harm to the grimm than it had when Twilight had been shooting it in the side.

“That weapon does not appear to be having any effect,” Midnight, the on-board Virtual Intelligence mounted into Twilight’s suit, observed dispassionately; what was more annoying was that she did it in what was pretty much Twilight’s own voice.

“I can see that!” Twilight snapped, prompting another growl from the ursa major.

Twilight backed away. Enclosed within her armour as she was, she was acutely aware of the sound of her own breathing, weighted with anxiety.

She wished that Rainbow was here. Or Applejack. Or Ciel. Or Penny. Or Sunset. Anyone, really. She wished that anyone was here with or, indeed, instead of her. But Rainbow, she wished for Rainbow Dash most of all.

She had… she had survived so far. It turned out that one really big advantage of slaving your weapons to your own brain was that it was very easy to fire so blindly in so many directions that you were bound to hit something.

She had survived, but Twilight was under no illusions. She wasn’t able to kill as well as Rainbow could, or any of the others. She bet that none of them would have flinched in the face of just one ursa major.

But they weren’t here right now. She was. She was, and poor Sage was counting on her. He had done well, fought hard, but then that Ursa had got him and shattered his aura, and… and there was blood on the ground, and she didn’t even know if he was still alive.

But if he was alive, if he was alive as she prayed that he was, then he was counting on her.

And she couldn’t let this ursa stand between her and helping him.

Twilight knew that she wasn’t a huntress. She had never had any pretensions to being a huntress. And so, when she had agreed to go out into the field, she had designed a suit that would more than make up for that… deficiency, under the current circumstances. Yes, Shining Armour had given her a few quick lessons in how to stand, how to use a sword and so on, but Twilight had always intended that her main defence should be carrying so many guns that she was a match for anything that she might encounter.

That was the Atlesian way, right? A wall of guns. Victory through superior firepower.

It was clear that her carbine, although it was the same type of laser that was mounted in each one of Penny’s swords, wasn’t up to the job alone.

Fortunately, Twilight had other options.

As fast as thought, driven by Twilight’s thought, a panel mounted behind her right shoulder opened up, and a rotary cannon emerged. It had five barrels each spaced a less than an inch apart, and each barrel was a deal wider than the diameter of her carbine.

Twilight settled the red targeting reticule on her HUD in the centre of the ursa’s chest, then opened fire.

The five barrels of the cannon rotated for a moment, then began to spit laser bolts, each one larger and more powerful than those she had been firing with before, each one larger than the carbine blasts, each one – and Twilight had tested this – strong enough to dent the armour plating used on a Paladin.

Each lavender beam of power flew straight and true, slamming straight into the ursa. Now it felt this for sure. It staggered backwards, it roared in pain, it shook its head wildly back and forth as though it were trying to focus past the pain. It was hurting now, it really was feeling the effects; Twilight could tell.

It’s working. It’s working! Oh my goodness, I’m really doing this!

The ursa howled and bellowed in its rage and pain, dropping to all fours, its claws digging into the earth beneath its feet. Twilight adjusted her aim, the rotary cannon bolts striking the ursa square on the head, but the skull of the grimm was all bone, and thick bone at that, and though it still roared in anger, it no longer seemed so badly affected by the constant hammering upon its head.

Certainly, the rotary cannon didn’t stop it from charging on all fours straight at Twilight, growling all the while.

“Might I suggest deploying the big gun?” Midnight suggested.

“Yes, I know, thank you!” Twilight yelled and did what she hadn’t needed Midnight to suggest to her in the first place.

Literally, the cannon that emerged to sit above her left shoulder was as large as the rotary cannon – perhaps a little bigger – but it was entirely one barrel.

One very large barrel. A barrel, in fact, that was roughly equivalent to the laser cannon mounted on a Skydart airship.

If this doesn’t work, then, well… I’m pretty screwed, aren’t I?

The targeting reticule for the anti-armour cannon was green and blinked twice when Twilight lined it up on her target.

The ursa leapt.

The cannon, commanded by Twilight’s thoughts, fired a beam of lavender light as broad as one of Pinkie’s pies.

It struck the ursa major mid-leap, and by the time the light cleared, there was no more ursa major left, just ashes and smoke gradually dispersing in front of Twilight’s eyes.

She didn’t have time to congratulate herself. She didn’t have time to be elated. Twilight started running towards Sage, and as she ran, she swiped her right hand over the vambrace on her left arm, bringing up a holographic menu and keypad on which she began to type furiously.

When Twilight had said that she didn’t carry any weapons with her that she could drop, she hadn’t been entirely accurate.

As her fingers flew, her commands were transmitted to the large box which she had been wearing on her back when the ambush began, and which she had detached off her back soon after being knocked down by that first beowolf.

Now, obedient to her instructions, the box opened, unfolding itself to reveal a swarm of drones within which whirred to life, their blades spinning as they rose into the air like a swarm of angry wasps.

Twilight reached Sage’s side. He had been savaged, his muscular body scarred and scratched in many places, deep gashes rent in his chest, bite marks on his neck and left shoulder. Blood was starting to pool around him, reaching the pommel of his fallen sword. The armour of Twilight’s right gauntlet receded a little so that she could check his pulse with her fingers, placing them gently against his neck. He was alive. He was alive!

“Oh, thank goodness,” Twilight gasped. “Aloysius, here! Stabilisation protocol, now!”

Aloysius, the eldest, largest, and most faithful of her drones – if one could describe a drone as being faithful – let out a two-tone beep of acknowledgement and flew swiftly through the air, covering the distance separating him from Twilight and Sage in mere moments. It hovered overhead, a few feet over Sage's prone body. Twilight leaned back as a fountain of coagulant particles erupted from out of the bottom of the drone of fall like rain upon Sage’s unmoving form. The particles would enter into his wounds, causing his blood to clot and the bleeding to cease before he bled out completely.

“Thank you, Aloysius.” Twilight’s helmet retracted, exposing her head and face to view as she tapped one of the pouches on her right thigh. It, too, retracted, leaving a large roll of plaster to drop into Twilight’s hand. “Drones,” she said, “form defensive pattern Fluttershy.” The five basic patterns for deployment of her drones were named after her friends; pattern Rainbow Dash was aggressive, a pursuit pattern for an enemy on the run; pattern Pinkie Pie was a search pattern that basically sent the drones haring off in random directions with which Twilight could interfere if she wished; pattern Fluttershy was a sentry pattern, designed to provide early warning of the approach of any grimm. “Midnight, keep monitoring the sensors; let me know if you sense anything.”

“And I was hoping to curl up with a good book.”

“Remind me to tweak your personality settings when this is over,” Twilight observed, tapping another pouch on her left thigh this time, revealing a portable shield generator about one and a half times the size of a tennis ball. Twilight set it down upon the ground and activated it, generating a bubble of hard light with a light blue glow, enveloping both herself and Sage with its protective barrier.

Not very heroic, hiding behind a shield while her drones, who had all buzzed into the surrounding undergrowth, kept watch for her, but then, she wasn’t a hero by any means, and it wasn’t as though she could move Sage in his condition.

Twilight tore away a piece of plaster from the roll with her teeth and applied it to one of the bite marks on Sage’s neck, covering it with beige plaster which, unfortunately, didn’t quite blend into his skin tone the way it might have on some other people.

Before she could repeat the process, a nevermore flew overhead. It showed no sign of wanting to disturb Twilight, but its cry made her look upwards nevertheless, and as she looked up, she saw another of the great avian grimm passing high above.

There goes the idea of maybe using the drones to get him out.

Professor Port was right; this is a tough exercise.

I’m so sorry, Sage; if you’d had a real partner, then maybe…

“Midnight,” she began, about to ask her VI to try and call Blake or one of the others.

But then she heard the gunshots, gunshots that sounded a lot like Gambol Shroud.

Perhaps calling anybody wasn’t the best idea right now.

She should just wait and hope that the others were having better luck than she was.

“That,” Jaune said, “was a lot of beowolves.”

No matter what ProfessorPort had said, past excursions into the Emerald Forest had not led Jaune to expect that quite that many beowolves would show up in one place, all at the same time.

There had been so many beowolves that they had, not to put too fine a point on it, run. Or, if you wanted to make it sound a little less afraid, they had retreated off the path to a slight incline that rose up above the forest. Atop the hill, there were some ruins, maybe the remains of an old watchtower or something, because Jaune couldn’t imagine why else you would build what was otherwise a pretty square, small structure on top of a hill in the middle of the forest. A pair of crumbling stone horses sat on north crest of the hill, looking down at the last remains of a path that had led down that slope, but time and weather had worn away at them just as they had worn away at the tower itself; only one floor remained above ground level, with little beyond the walls that supported said floor left standing, but it did have only one way up – the staircase – and so if the beowolves followed them here, then they could always retreat up there and try to hold the grimm off in the bottleneck.

They stood a better chance here than they had on the path, with the grimm assailing them on all sides.

Here, they could make a stand.

But why did they have to make a stand anywhere? This was a school exercise for crying out loud; they weren’t graduated huntsman. Yes, this was dangerous, and sometimes people died, and most of the people on the wall at Benni Havens’ were probably dead by now, but that should apply to students taking a test within sight of the Beacon Cliffs!

Or at least, Jaune didn’t think it should.

Maybe he was just showing his naïveté again.

Flash sighed. “I know. I wouldn’t have thought… do you think someone screwed up?”

“How do you mean?”

“Like, do you think that they set too many lures and drew in more grimm than they meant to?”

“I admit that Professor Port’s stories are boring, but I don’t think that he’s that incompetent,” Jaune replied.

“Well, something went wrong,” Flash insisted.

“Or we just suck at this,” Jaune muttered.

“She would have,” Flash said.

“What?”

“The question that you’re asking yourself,” Flash informed him. “Pyrrha would have run too.”

Jaune snorted. “How did you know that was what I was thinking?”

“Cause it’s obvious,” Flash said. “And because I’m asking myself the exact same thing. Only about Weiss, not Pyrrha. You got that, right?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Jaune assured him. He fell silent then, and at the right time too, as once again, the sound of Gambol Shroud blazing away at targets unseen could be heard.

“I don’t hear Crescent Rose any more,” Jaune whispered.

“Huh?” Flash asked.

“The noise,” Jaune said quickly. “That’s Gambol Shroud, but I don’t hear Crescent Rose.”

“You can tell them apart?”

“You can’t?”

“It’s not my team,” Flash explained.

“No,” Jaune said. “It isn’t.”

Flash hesitated for a moment. “She’s probably just using the scythe instead of the gun.”

“Maybe,” Jaune murmured. “I hope so.”

Flash pursed his lips; it was about the only thing that Jaune could easily see him doing with his face, what with the way that his helmet obscured everything except his lips and his eyes.

“If you’re worried,” he said, “you can check her aura on your scroll.”

“My scroll! Right! Damn, I’m such an idiot!” Jaune sheathed his sword within his shield and pulled out his scroll, bringing up the aura levels of himself – the largest icon of the four – and his three teammates. Weirdly, Pyrrha’s aura was just below full, which was odd, because she wasn’t here, so what had she done to bring her aura down at all? Sunset’s aura was in the yellow, and Ruby…

Jaune stared down at the scroll in his hands. His trembling hands.

No. Not again, not where I can’t reach her.

“Jaune?” Flash asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Her aura’s gone,” Jaune said.

“What?”

“Her aura’s down!” Jaune cried. “There’s nothing left, Ruby…”

More shots from Gambol Shroud disturbed the air.

Flash walked quickly towards him. “That sound, that’s Blake, right?”

Jaune nodded.

“And Blake… if she’s still fighting, then she’s protecting Ruby, isn’t she? I mean, that’s what she’d do, right?”

Jaune took a deep breath. “Right. With her life.”

“Then… then that’s where we head,” Flash said. “The exercise… something has obviously gone wrong with the exercise, there’s no sign of any help arriving; saving a life has to be our priority.”

“Right,” Jaune said, but then hesitated. “What about the beowolves?” He didn’t want to lead the grimm right to Ruby.

“Good point,” Flash murmured. He bowed his head for a moment. “If they come after us, if they pick up our trail, then I’ll hold them off.”

“'Hold them off'? Are you nuts, that’s-”

“The right thing to do,” Flash said. “If it comes to that. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it doesn’t, but… if it does, then I’ll do it. You’re right; we can’t bring the grimm down on an injured comrade.”

“There has to be another way,” Jaune said.

“I’m not saying my way will be necessary; hopefully, it won’t,” Flash declared. “I’m just saying, if it is, then… don’t look back and don’t worry about me.”

Jaune looked into his eyes, a hard blue like sapphires. “Are you-?”

“Let’s not argue any more over hypotheticals, okay?” Flash insisted. “We’d best get moving. Ruby’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “At least… I hope she is.”

“Alert!” Midnight cried. “Hostile approaching from the north-east!”

“'Hostile'?” Twilight asked, looking up and around – stupid, yes, because there wouldn’t be much point in sensors or drones if the grimm could sneak up on her like that, would there? She just couldn’t help herself. “You mean there’s only one.”

Midnight’s voice was calm as she said, “I am only registering one contact. Recommend switching to deployment Applejack.”

“Negative,” Twilight replied. Applejack was a concentrated deployment, bringing maximum force to bear upon a single point – the same way that Applejack always put everything that she had into the task in front of her. But she wasn’t quite ready to take that step just yet. Grimm were pretty smart, after all, or some of them were at least, and this might be a feint to get her to draw all of her drones away and create a gap in the net elsewhere that others could slip through. “Maintain the current formation.” After all, all she knew at this point was that a single grimm was approaching. That didn’t – necessarily – mean that it was a particularly dangerous grimm. It might be a single beowolf, and even a few of her drones deployed in supporting distance of one another ought to be able to handle that easily.

She raised her helmet, enclosing her head and face once more within her armour. Once more encased, Twilight glanced at the bottom left corner of her HUD; since going on that mission with Blake and Team TTSS, she had installed her motion tracker directly into the suit’s mainframe, and she could see the red icon indicating the single hostile moving in a straight line towards her – and towards the yellow icons indicating her drones where they made slight adjustments to their positions relative to one another.

Gunfire began to echo through this part of the forest. The rapid fire of her drones letting fly with their armaments; some of her drones were equipped with machine pistols or the equivalent, admittedly small calibre ammunition but with an impressive rate of fire, and with the combination of drum magazines and an auto-loader system that she had designed, they each carried plenty of ammunition. Other drones were equipped with more powerful weapons: miniature fire dust rockets or armour piercing rifle ammunition. Twilight, who had a pretty good ear for these things as a result of spending so much time amongst huntsmen and soldiers, could make out all three kinds of weapons blazing away at the target.

Which kept on advancing. Some of the yellow blips of her drones began to move around it, circling like wolves around a bison, moving to keep on-

One of the yellow blips representing a drone blinked out.

Twilight frowned. “Midnight, bring up the status of all drones.”

A list of miniature drone images filled the left-hand side of her HUD; one of the images was red, indicating that that drone had been rendered inoperable. As Twilight looked, another image flashed red, and then another.

The wreckage of one such drone was flung through the trees, hitting the ground and bouncing along before hitting the trunk of another tree not far from Twilight. The wreck sparked and fizzled for a moment before falling deathly silent.

The roar of the grimm, a sound almost like the hooting of a distorted foghorn, echoed through the trees. Whatever it was, it was definitely not a beowolf.

“Initiate deployment pattern Applejack,” Twilight declared. “All drones, engage target!”

The drones deployed on the far side whirred overhead as they emerged, briefly, from the trees on one side only to disappear again into the woods on the other. Twilight watched all the yellow dots in motion, all converging upon the single red dot, swarming it like ants swarming a termite queen during the storming of a nest, circling around it as the fire of the guns and the rockets rose to a crescendo.

Once more, the grimm, that single grimm, roared forth its anger, and Twilight could feel the earth begin to shake now, trembling at the tread of this single grimm, as one by one, the images of her drones turned red. One after another fell before the power of this grimm, the sound of gunfire gradually lessening solely due to the fact that there fewer and fewer drones left to shoot. One by one, they fell, the gunfire from the remainder slackening off until it ceased completely.

Because there were no more drones left to engage.

The grimm, this single grimm, had destroyed them all.

Only then, only when it had stripped all of Twilight’s shields away, did the grimm show itself.

It was a cyclops, twenty feet tall by Twilight’s estimate and perhaps eight feet wide in the shoulders, with cloven hooves at the base of legs that had knees facing backwards instead of forwards, more like a goat than a man. It was bulky, what would have been called muscular in a man or a beast, and it was covered almost completely in plates of bone armour; no wonder Twilight’s drones, even her rockets had failed to make a dent in it; it was protected everywhere but the joints, and there, the gaps between the armour plates were slight and hard to pinpoint. A single eye burned in the centre of a bone mask, burning red and raw, and above the eye, a horn, curving slightly, rose out of the grimm’s forehead.

In one hand, it bore a great hammer, a heavy thing all fashioned out of metal with a head that was several feet wide. Twilight shivered to look at it. Grimm didn’t work in metal; although cyclopes practically alone of all grimm were known to craft primitive weapons like wooden clubs, they did not build forges nor mine for iron.

The cyclops had taken this weapon from a huntsman it had killed.

It had killed a huntsman. What chance, then, did Twilight have?

No chance. Twilight glanced down at Sage. No chance and no choice. If she did nothing, if she cowered within this shield, then Sage would be put at greater risk.

The cyclops hooted in derision, hefting its hammer up in one hand.

Twilight reached out and deactivated the shield that was protecting both herself and Sage. Holding the spherical generator in one hand, she stepped away from the unconscious but stabilised student, then threw the generator back onto the ground next to him, where the hard-light barrier flared to life once more, protecting Sage but not Twilight.

It didn’t look as though there was any immediate help coming.

Which meant Twilight would have to do the best she could.

She thought of her friends: brave Rainbow Dash; faithful Applejack; kind Fluttershy; Rarity, gentle and generous; Pinkie Pie, with her heart so large and so open.

Help me be brave. All of you, please, help me be brave.

“H-hey!” Twilight shouted. “Over here!” And then she let the cyclops have it with every gun that she possessed. The carbine mounted on her arm, the rotary cannon on her right shoulder, the anti-armour cannon on her left shoulder, all blazed away with full force, lavender lasers leaping from Twilight’s barrels, flying across the distance to splash across the surface of the cyclops’ armour.

And as she fired, as laser after laser erupted from her cannons, Twilight backed away from the cyclops and from Sage. With luck, the next group to enter the forest would find him.

She backed away; the cyclops pursued. It didn’t seem to be harmed. Not even her heaviest cannon, the one that had evaporated an ursa major, was penetrating its armour. The cyclops advanced, dragging its hammer along the ground, roaring that hooting, foghorn roar as it came, seeming more irritated than anything else.

Twilight kept firing. She kept retreating, and she kept on firing. Maybe if she just kept shooting, then maybe-

A crack appeared in one of the plates of bone armour covering the cyclops, where it was struck repeatedly by Twilight’s big gun. There! If she concentrated her fire, then maybe-

The cyclops quickened its pace, running down, its cloven hooves pounding the soil of the path. Twilight tried to quicken her retreat, but she stumbled over a rock sticking up out of the soil and nearly fell, and in that moment, the cyclops was on her, swinging its enormous hammer.

Twilight raised her left hand, a lavender shield projecting from her vambrace.

The hammer, propelled by the cyclops’ hideous strength, shattered her shield in a single blow, striking Twilight in the midriff and hurling her twenty feet backwards down the path, tossing her along the ground like a doll. The world spun in front of Twilight as she hit the ground head first, back first, front first, then on her head again, before finally rolling to a stop upon her belly.

The edge of her HUD flashed red in alarm.

“Alert!” Midnight said. “Rotary cannon damaged. Recommend that you cease use until repairs have been completed.”

“Not really the time, Midnight,” Twilight groaned, as she tried to get up. Rainbow Dash makes this look so easy.

“Alert!” Midnight said. “Grimm-”

She was cut off, but Twilight got a sense of what she was about to say when she felt the cyclops’ grip close around her helmet, squeezing her and squeezing Twilight’s aura too as it picked her up off the ground only to slam her back down again, face up this time, facing it.

Twilight raised her arm, her carbine firing, but the cyclops brought one cloven hoof down on her arm, hammering it into the ground; it stamped upon her arm again, and Twilight howled as the pain was transmitted through her aura, which was now dropping dangerously close to the red.

The cyclops let out a gruff, husky laugh as it planted its hoof on Twilight’s chest, exerting its weight upon her, crushing her slowly underneath it.

Twilight’s cannon fired once, twice – but before it could fire a third time, the cyclops had placed its three meaty fingers around it and casually ripped the weapon off of Twilight’s suit, idly throwing it away into the forest.

The cyclops placed its hand over Twilight’s face, so that she could see nothing but black flesh and white bone.

Then she saw fire. The cyclops’ hand began to burn; it glowed red and yellow, and Twilight felt the heat through her armour and through her diminishing aura. Sweat beaded upon her brow, her breathing became more laboured not only by the oppressive heat but by the rapidly dropping level of her aura as it got lower and lower before her eyes, burning away in the heat of the cyclops’ fire. Once it broke, her armour would offer her some protection still, but this grimm was so strong that it would probably be able to turn her to a pulp inside her armoured suit just by slamming her into the ground often enough, and that was if it didn’t burn her first.

Trapped, cooking inside her armour, Twilight whimpered. She didn’t want to die, not like this, not anything like this. She wasn’t a hero, she was just Twilight Sparkle, and she wanted to survive. She just couldn’t see a way how.

The cyclops howled and released Twilight, its hand pulling away before Twilight’s aura shattered.

Twilight looked up to see Pyrrha’s javelin buried in the crack in the cyclops’ armour.

Pyrrha ran forward, legs pounding, hair flying out behind her in a glorious stream of red. She leapt, and as her leap carried her upwards and onwards, over Twilight and towards the cyclops that threatened her, Pyrrha threw her shield like a discus aimed straight at the cyclops large single eye.

The cyclops flinched, turning its head away from the flying metal disc, which struck the armoured side of its head to little harm, but while the grimm was turned away, it wasn’t looking as Pyrrha grasped her Miló and pulled it free, kicking off the cyclops’ chest and flipping over in mid-air as she landed on the ground between the cyclops, staggering backwards, and Twilight Sparkle.

She held out her left arm, and Akoúo̱ flew towards it, taking its proper place upon her armour vambraces.

Cinder emerged out of the woods behind the cyclops, the light glinting off her glass scimitars as she slashed at its hamstrings, her obsidian blades seeking out the gaps between the armour plates as she struck first at one leg and then the other.

The cyclops roared in anger, lashing out with one cloven hoof, catching Cinder with its kick and knocking her to the ground. The grimm glared balefully down at her as it raised that hoof to stamp down upon her.

Miló switched from spear to rifle in Pyrrha’s hands as she fired two shots – her last two shots; she had used the other three getting here – at the cyclops’ head. They ricocheted harmlessly off its armour, but they seemed to put all thoughts of Cinder out of the grimm’s head as it turned its attention once more to Pyrrha.

“Twilight,” Pyrrha said, gently but firmly as Miló shifted back into a spear. “If you wouldn’t mind clearing the path please.”

“R-right,” Twilight said, scrambling off the path and into the somewhat safety of the woods on either side.

The cyclops growled as it advanced upon her, hefting its enormous hammer in one hand.

Its metal hammer.

The weapon which it had taken from some valiant warrior and, in the taking, doomed itself.

It simply didn’t know that yet.

Pyrrha charged towards the cyclops, and as she charged, she reached behind her and placed Miló upon her back, holding it fast against her cuirass, leaving her right hand empty and free, bearing no weapon but Akoúo̱ as she approached the grimm at a flat run.

The cyclops quickened its own step in response, shaking the earth as its hooves pounded the path ever more swiftly.

The cyclops swung its hammer at her, one-handed, a swiping blow which would have knocked her sideways and maybe shattered her aura with a single hit.

If it had made contact.

As the hammer swung down and towards her, Pyrrha spun, her hair flying around her as she pirouetted gracefully as any ballerina might, reaching out with her free right hand even as she ducked beneath the oncoming hammer.

The hammer passed harmlessly overhead, but as it did so, Pyrrha reached out and touched it, her gloved fingers brushing against the metal as she applied sufficient of her semblance to rip it out of the cyclops’ hand and send it flying.

The cyclops hooted in shocked disbelief, but Pyrrha was already moving, running towards the hammer, outpacing the grimm as she slung Akoúo̱ across her back just as she had Miló before it.

She had a feeling that she would need both hands for this. The hammer was truly enormous; it made Nora’s Magnhild look like a child’s plaything by comparison. Whoever wielded it – whoever had fallen wielding it against the cyclops – must have been a mighty warrior indeed.

Were it not for her semblance, Pyrrha would not even have attempted to lift it; fortunately, her semblance made that ‘were it not’ redundant.

The cyclops closed in behind her, but Pyrrha had already laid her hands upon the hammer’s shaft, and with polarity, she was able to lift what her muscles never could have as she turned, swinging the hammer in a wide arc to slam with a crunch into the cyclops’ leg.

The cyclops bellowed as it crashed to the ground, arms flailing, throwing up dust from the impact.

Its eye looked up towards the sky until Cinder appeared to block out the sun.

Her swords of glass had transformed into a bow, which she drew back and loosed a single obsidian shaft straight into the creature’s single eye.

The cyclops howled, thrashing its arms wildly, groping blindly for Cinder above its face, and as it groped, Pyrrha swung the hammer down a second time – upon the cyclops’ armoured chest.

Further cracks began to spread across the plates of bone. The cyclops blindly reached for her, but Cinder turned her bow to swords once more and slashed at the cyclops hands and fingers, making the grimm flinch back each time it got close with another pained and moaning cry.

Pyrrha swung the hammer again, and again, and with each dolorous blow that landed upon the cyclops with so heavy a thud, more cracks across the armour spread until she had shattered the bony plates that warded it completely, exposing the oily black flesh beneath.

Pyrrha brought the hammer down one final time, stoving in the cyclops chest. The cyclops did not roar now; rather, it let out a sort of gasping sound as its torso collapsed, and then it made no further sound at all as its body began to smoke.

In a little while, it would be nought but ashes.

The corner of Cinder’s lip quirked upwards. “Not bad,” she said, “We make a pretty good team, you and I.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured, without committing to anything. “Twilight, are you alright?”

Twilight emerged from out of the woods, retracting her helmet so that they could see her face. “I’m okay,” she said, “but Sage…” She gestured to the unconscious figure lying on the ground beneath the shield. “I daren’t move him, not with his injuries. What’s going on, are you with the second wave?”

Cinder snorted. “The second wave? Do you think that the exercise is still going on?”

“It… isn’t?” Twilight asked.

Cinder’s right eyebrow rose. “You have no idea how bad things have gotten, do you?”

“Weren’t they supposed to get this bad?” Twilight asked.

“Unfortunately not,” Pyrrha murmured. “The sheer number of grimm were not anticipated, and with so many nevermores in the skies… it is unlikely that Professor Ozpin will risk any Bullheads here. Cinder and I had to descend via the cliff.”

“But… but what about the Atlesian airships?” Twilight asked. “General Ironwood’s squadrons could-”

“Don’t put so much faith in your technological toys,” Cinder suggested. “The ability to fire a few missiles or make a gun fly is as nothing compared to the primal ferocity of the grimm.”

“If that were so, Atlas and all its territories would have fallen long ago,” Twilight declared. “We are protected because of our technological toys and the edge they give to the brave people who wield and pilot them. There’s no way that the General would be scared off by a few nevermores.”

“And yet, above us fly the nevermores, and where is your gallant General?” Cinder demanded. “Why, I do believe he is elsewhere, scared perhaps.”

“Cinder, please,” Pyrrha said sharply. “That will do.”

Cinder snorted. “You think you can invent your way to omnipotence,” she spat. “But where did that get you? Helpless.”

She turned away, and walked away. Pyrrha watched her for a moment before returning her attention to Twilight. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… don’t know what that’s about.”

“It’s fine; you don’t need to apologise for her,” Twilight said. “And she’s not wrong, about me. Thank you, for saving my life.”

“Any time,” Pyrrha said. “But… I’m afraid that I’m going to have to leave you with Cinder now; Ruby… her aura’s broken, I need to get to her.”

“Of course,” Twilight said. “Go. Now. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, and now it was her turn to turn away, dashing off into the woods and out of sight.

“Good luck,” Twilight murmured again, as Pyrrha disappeared into the woods, leaving her alone with the unconscious Sage, and Cinder.

Not her first choice of company, she had to admit.

I’m probably not her first choice either, to be fair.

Nevertheless, accepting that fact didn’t help Twilight come up with anything to say while they both… while they waited? Waited for what? Waited for help that wasn’t coming? Waited for General Ironwood to send in his airships? Waited for the grimm to get bored and go away?

Would that even happen?

If it did, that would be… very convenient. Which was partly why Twilight doubted it would actually happen.

Cinder kicked at the remains of one of Twilight’s drones with her foot. “What was this?” she asked.

“A drone,” Twilight said softly.

“I see,” Cinder murmured. “More broken toys?”

“What do you have against technology?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing,” Cinder said. “I have nothing against technology; I merely have something against those who are so arrogant as to presume that technology can make them master or mistress of the world. It is a power that is… wholly unearned, and yet, you act as though possessing it makes you deserving, as though the technology that has elevated your city has likewise elevated you in virtue above all others. Your power is nothing but good fortune, and yet you act as though you are entitled to be the masters.”

“We don’t pretend to be the masters of anything,” Twilight said. “Or anyone. But you’re wrong about General Ironwood; he’s not afraid. Not of some nevermores, not of anything.”

“All men are afraid of something,” Cinder insisted. “Even the most powerful of men, for he fears losing his power if he fears nothing else.” She chuckled. “We saw an Atlesian warship, Pyrrha and I,” she said. “It took up station over Beacon, but as you can see, it has made no move to progress further and take the battle to the grimm. That speaks to something, don’t you think?”

“Something,” Twilight replied. “Not fear. Caution. Perhaps. Whatever the General is doing, whatever our forces are doing, there is a good reason for it.”

“Yes, and I’m sure there’s a good reason your teammates are standing around back at the school with their thumbs up their rear-ends,” Cinder muttered. “I’m sure that nobody has written us off, oh no.”

“If you think this is hopeless, then what are you doing here?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Why do we do anything, Twilight Sparkle, except because it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “So… how does this end?”

“That depends on how it started,” Cinder replied. She smiled. “But fear not. Although Altas may have abandoned you, you will not die.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re with me,” Cinder explained. “I was not fashioned for a mean and unremarked ending such as this, in such a place as this, by claw or jaw of some common grimm. I am made for greater things by far, protected by my fate. And while you are with me, that fate, that destiny, will protect you also.”

“Really?” Twilight asked sceptically.

“A fire consumed my home,” Cinder said. “My father and my mother perished.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Twilight murmured.

“I do not tell you for your sympathies,” Cinder replied sharply. “The fire… it did not touch me. It crept into my room, it roared into my face, it licked at me like an affectionate dog, but…” She spread her arms out wide on either side of her. “Do you see a burn on me? Do you see so much as a single mark? No. I did not suffer the flames. My family was devoured by them, but I endured. I was protected. As I will be protected.” She fell silent for a moment. “I’m going to take a look around,” she declared and walked away, moving silently into the trees, scouting perhaps or doing something that Twilight knew not.

Well, that makes me feel a lot better.

“Twilight,” Midnight said. “You have an incoming transmission.”

True Mettle (New)

True Mettle

Now, isn’t this interesting?

Cinder held up the object that she had discovered during her investigation of the forest around the site of the attack on Twilight Sparkle. It looked like a box, a metal box, painted in forest camouflage, all greens and browns and black lines in an asymmetrical riot that made it hard to spot amidst the undergrowth. It was about as large as a decently-sized box of teabags and with what might have looked like air-holes peppering the surface of the box.

Of course, Cinder recognised it as not just a box, but a sophisticated grimm lure from Atlas. If she were to crack it open – and she was strongly tempted to do just that – she would find a perfume-like store of pheromones waiting within, gradually being released out into the air to draw the grimm with the promise of humanity.

She had found three of these things so far, and alongside them, she had found, concealed with some degree of care, a large number of more primitive baits and lures, as if the student who had been assigned to distribute them up and down the path had dumped their entire load here to be done with it.

What elevated it out of sheer laziness, of course, was the presence of these Atlesian toys along with them.

Someone had wanted to draw in grimm and had gone to some effort to make sure that enough grimm were drawn in.

And Cinder felt that she had a fairly good idea of who that someone might be.

“Phoebe,” she murmured as she crushed the lure-box she was holding in one hand, turning it into a crumpled pile of scrap metal within her clenched fist. “Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe. What am I going to do with you?”

It was all about that wretched sword, of course. Poor Phoebe, so long spent lusting after that black blade, only for the one who had denied her the sword to casually give it away, and to a faunus no less. Cinder cared little for Mistralian traditions, still less for the pride of the House of Nikos or the dignity of the House of Kommenos, but she would admit that it had pleased her to see Sunset strutting about with that ancient heirloom across her back, if only to imagine that apoplexy that must be choking Phoebe every moment that Sunset had the sword and she did not.

It seemed that she had underestimated the lengths to which Phoebe would go to get the sword. Trying to kill Sunset by stealth, well, that was hardly honourable, but then, the Mistralian honour was nothing more than a bad joke anyway, wasn't it? But risking all of the other students along with Sunset, just to claim an antique bauble from a bloody corpse? What a low, vile thing to do.

But then, Phoebe had always been a very low, vile person, hadn’t she?

Please, Phoebe. Please. I’ll be good, I swear.

Cinder closed her eyes, and her grip upon the ruined box in her hand grew tighter still as the metal groaned and squeaked as she crushed it.

Cinder could hear the crying in her head, the sobbing, the groans of pain as she-

Cinder’s eyes snapped open, a wordless growl escaped her as her hand began to glow white hot, melting the twisted metal that she held in her grasp so that its molten fragments slipped through her fingers to land in dribbling lumps upon the soil before her.

Cinder snorted in frustration as she hastily piled some dirt upon them, lest they start a forest fire.

She forced those memories down, down and down into the dark and murky recesses of her soul. They did her no good upon the surface. She had no need of them. All of that… all of that was past her now.

But Phoebe Kommenos always seemed to bring out the worst in her.

Cinder brushed her hair irritably back behind her shoulder. She had no doubt that Phoebe had done this. No proof, admittedly, but no doubt either. She could not conceive of anyone else who would want to do such a thing; it was not as though Phoebe would be constrained by the fear of collateral damage, and it was not as though she was above paying to win either. In fact, Cinder would go so far as to say that what successes she had accrued in her meagre career she owed entirely to paying to win, either in the form of better equipment than her opponents or simply paying them off.

She relied entirely upon the wealth she had inherited from her late mother to grease her way in life, whether in buying victories one way or another or in – as far as Cinder could see – buying friends with the largesse that she could demonstrate to those who laughed at her feeble jokes.

It must gall at her then, that the things that she really wanted were all the things that money could not buy her: a triumph over Pyrrha Nikos – any sort of tournament triumph, really – the sword Soteria, any sort of real respect from anyone.

And so she had sought to buy another triumph, to use Atlesian technology to summon enough monsters to win a battle she could not win on her own.

If it didn’t work – and Cinder honestly hoped that it would not work – then it would rather prove her point once more about the folly of relying upon these Atlesian tricks.

Phoebe had done this; Cinder would lay odds upon it in the sure and certain knowledge that her bets always came up.

The question – the real question – was what would Cinder do about this fact? What would she do about Phoebe?

Kill her.

Cinder sighed. That would be… very lovely and thoroughly deserved, but it was too soon. The last thing she wanted was a manhunt on Beacon campus.

And besides… she looked down at her hands, and scowled at the slight tremor that had come over them. Just thinking about… just thinking about confronting her…

Cinder was very glad that nobody could see her at the moment.

Another option was the profoundly safe bet of turning in a couple of these technological lures as evidence to the proper authorities. Let Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood investigate their way to the answer that was staring Cinder in the face. She doubted that Phoebe was intelligent enough to have concealed the transactions whereby she had obtained these devices. The trail would lead back to her, and she would be expelled at best, if not facing criminal charges.

That did not please Cinder. The last thing she wanted was for Phoebe to be stuck snug in a cell, enjoying room and board at the expense of the Valish taxpayer. She wanted… she wanted Phoebe to suffer. She wanted her to be defeated in the Vytal Festival; she wanted Phoebe to be humiliated by Pyrrha one last time, on the grandest stage in all of Remnant, before the eyes of the entire world. She wanted Phoebe to lose, to suffer the ultimate defeat, before…

Cinder clenched her hand into a fist. By that point, she would be able to do what must be done. By that point, she would have mastered all her childish fears.

I am the storm. I am the east wind that will sweep through Remnant, and I am not afraid of Phoebe Kommenos.

I will not be afraid.

She would do… nothing, much. She might send Lightning Dust – the most thuggish of her crew in appearance and manner, plus Phoebe would hate being menaced by a faunus – around to have a word with her, persuade her to let it lie from now on.

She didn’t want Sunset as part of this ridiculous, petty vendetta.

For that matter, she wanted noble Pyrrha to stay reasonably safe too.

Yes. Yes, that was the best way. She would handle this privately, and actually privately – not Sunset’s definition of ‘privately,’ which seemed to involve your deeds becoming an open secret around the school.

“Cinder?” Twilight called, and besides her voice Cinder could hear her crashing through the undergrowth with all the subtlety of a goliath. “Cinder?”

Cinder stood up, and slinked out from behind a tree. “Yes? Here I am.”

“Oh. Right,” Twilight said. “What are you doing?”

“Oh nothing, much,” Cinder replied. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Twilight said. “I’ve got some news, great news.”

Ruby’s aura was broken.

And Blake fought on.

The grimm had attacked not long after – by the sound of it, at least – they had come after Sunset and Arslan. Sunset had dropped her scroll, Blake and Ruby had begun to discuss what it meant, and then there had been no time to think of anything but their own situation.

As beowolf after beowolf emerged from out of the trees – with the occasional ursa to switch things up, how fun – Blake found herself thinking that maybe Professor Port had gone just a little bit overboard when he was setting up this test.

Still, they hadn’t done badly at first. Ruby had been magnificent, cutting through grimm by the half-dozen at a time in great swings of her scythe, gunning them down with shots from Crescent Rose. They had been holding their own, and the only reason Blake thought of it as holding their own and not as winning was that the grimm just kept on coming, replenishing their numbers as fast as they could be cut down.

And then Crescent Rose got stuck in a tree.

That was always a danger with weapons as big as that one, and in conditions as cramped as a forest. Ruby had, in fact, sliced through a couple of trees in the course of this battle – and an old statue of a robed woman – when they had been unfortunate enough to get in her way, but this was a particularly old and stout oak, and Crescent Rose had stuck in the wood point-first, unable to cleave through the wood but stuck too fast for Ruby to get it out again before the grimm were on her.

Blake should have been closer to her. She had been in the midst of a rampage, and she had allowed her bloody swathe through the beowolves to carry her too far from Ruby’s side. The first thing she had known of Ruby’s distress was when she cried out for help, and Blake had turned to see that one of the beowolves had got Ruby’s cape between its teeth, dragging her to the ground and holding her fast, her tiny fists meaning as little to it as tossed acorns.

And while it held her, the other beowolves closed in.

Blake had rushed back to her immediately, carving a path through any beowolf or ursa to stand in her way, using her shadow clones to leapfrog past opponents, flying into the grimm whose claws rose and fell, rose and fell on Ruby Rose.

She had cut them down, one and all, bursting amongst them with an angry cry like a lion amongst the buffalo of the plains, but it was too late. She had been too late.

Not too too late, thank whatever god had made the faunus and whatever god or gods watched over Ruby Rose. She was not dead. She wasn’t even injured bodily. But her aura was gone, and she was out like a snuffed candle. Her eyes were closed; she lay on the ground with her head lolling slightly to one side, arms stretched out limp by her side.

She looked incongruously peaceful for the desperate circumstances in which they found themselves.

Blake had dragged her to a hollow in the treacherous tree that had trapped her scythe, laying her there to limit the number of directions from which the beowolves could approach, and then she had planted herself before Ruby like a mother bear protecting her cub from the spears of the hunters.

She fought on. She fought on to protect Ruby until… until Sunset came. Yes, Sunset would come. Sunset would come because Ruby was in danger, and Sunset would not be blind to that nor be forestalled from coming to Ruby’s aid, though grimm or armies stood between them. And until she arrived, Blake would protect Ruby.

Until she arrived… or even if she didn’t, then Blake would still protect Ruby. Until whatever end.

And so she fought. She emptied magazine after magazine from Gambol Shroud, she slashed with her sword, she hacked with her cleaver, she buried her hook in the black flesh of the grimm. She used her clones, although more sparingly than was her wont because she dared not let the grimm get close to Ruby. So she fought, and so the grimm came, running out of the trees without end, as though they were being drawn as much by Blake’s anxiety as by any bait Professor Port had laid out. Perhaps they were, but there wasn’t much that Blake could do about that.

She just had to fight and keep fighting.

And so she fought, though the grimm kept coming and they got luckier and luckier with their blows. So she fought while her aura level got lower and lower. Blake did not even consider the possibility of retreat. She would not allow Ruby to die, nor even come to harm, not while she lived.

Blake stood in front of Ruby with her legs spaced apart and Gambol Shroud in pistol mode. She blazed away, shot after shot leaping from the flashing muzzle with a series of staccato snapping sounds, the rounds slamming into a pair of beowolves, two of a trio of the closest creatures, striking them down before the third of their number lunged at her. It passed through a shadow clone as Blake reappeared above the grimm, throwing down her cleaver to strike like a thunderbolt clear through the neck. It began to turn to ashes as Blake landed on the ground once more. Gambol Shroud switched from pistol to sword smoothly in her hand in time to bisect the beowolf that tried to pounce upon her from behind.

Another grimm dashed past her, aiming for Ruby, growling in anticipation – but Blake flung out her hook and buried it in the beowolf’s leg, dragging the creature with her ribbon back towards her where she despatched it with a single smooth stroke of Gambol Shroud.

One of the creatures pounced on her, bearing Blake to the ground, but she sent it flying upwards with a powerful kick, leaping first to her feet and then after her prey, driving the black blade of Gambol Shroud up into its chest until the tip of the sword pierced its back.

Her weapon transformed from sword to pistol as she fell, spraying fire across the edge of the path at the grimm still coming from the edge of the woods. She could feel herself getting low on aura, so the more of these monsters she could kill before they got close, the better.

Blake landed, legs spread out, knees bent; she lashed out with her cleaver to split the skull of a beowolf that got too close. But, as she struck at that grimm, another leapt at her, too fast and too close for her to get out of the way; she had to burn aura in order to evade it, reappearing beside the grimm, severing its head with her cleaver scabbard-

But as she struck, she had no time, and insufficient aura remaining, to escape the other beowolf that came at her from the other direction.

It bore her to the ground, her aura shattering as she struck the earth with a thump and a cry of pain that was drawn out as she was dragged along that ground by the beowolf that pushed her with its forepaws, pressing them against her shoulders, its claws pricking at her skin sharply enough to draw blood but not firmly enough to do much more than that.

With her aura gone, what it was doing felt like quite enough.

The beowolf dug its claws in just a little deeper; the pain of it was like fire burning in Blake’s blood, and she howled at it, she howled as the grimm bent down and snarled into her face.

Blake grimaced and bared her teeth right back at it as she buried her hook in the side of its neck.

The beowolf let out a startled yelp of surprise, its open mouth frozen in a look that Blake could only find to be confused before it turned to ash.

Blake climbed to her feet. Yes, without aura, she wasn’t moving as swiftly or as fluidly, she wasn’t able to simply backflip with acrobatic grace the way she could have without. Yes, her shoulders were throbbing with every prick that the beowolf’s claws had dealt to her; yes, she could feel the warm blood running down her body; yes, the pain was like someone yelling into both her ears, constantly seeking her attention no matter how she wished to concentrated on other things; but she still got up. She could still get up. She could still fight.

And she had vowed to fight. She had vowed to protect Ruby. Not ‘until her aura ran out’ but absolutely; Ruby was down, but Blake would fight on, though her aura too was shattered.

While there was breath in her, she would fight on.

She started to run, trying to ignore both the pain and the heavy breathing both at the same time; she ran towards Ruby, scooping up Gambol Shroud from where she had dropped it – it was still in pistol mode, thank goodness – and she opened fire upon the grimm who, ignoring Blake, thinking little of her, dismissing her now that she was without aura, had begun to bear down upon her temporary partner.

Blake opened fire, and as she opened fire, she roared in anger, roaring like the beast that so many had dismissed her as or accused her of being, roaring like a lion to scare away the jackals. She roared and she fired and she planted herself once more between Ruby and all harm like a stone wall and she blazed away, blasting the grimm to ashes until she had no more rounds left in Gambol Shroud’s magazine.

And no more mags in her pouches. That had been the last one.

The beowolves – twelve of them in all, and they seemed to have stopped coming for now – waited, watching her warily, and yet at the same time, Blake could also sense an anticipation rising from them; they knew – either they had seen or because they could sense it – that she had no aura. They didn’t anticipate that she would, that she could, provide much opposition to them now.

Maybe they were right. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe she would die swiftly, and Ruby would die soon after.

Or maybe not. Maybe Sunset would come. Maybe some other unexpected stroke of luck would swing her way.

It didn’t matter. She would fight regardless. She faced the beowolves with Gambol Shroud’s pistol turned sword in one hand and its cleaver in the other regardless. Not because it was fun, not because it was easy, not because it was glorious, not because there was a greater good or a cause worth dying for, but because it was right. Because there was a life at stake.

Because who she was was where she stood, though where she stood be where she fell.

The grimm advanced slowly, soft growls rising from their throats.

Blake waited for them, legs bent and poised to spring.

The beowolves rushed, and Blake rushed to meet them, charging straight into the centre of the pack which closed around her. She drove Gambol Shroud through the centre of a beowolf’s chest above its armoured bony plates, but a set of claws raked her back from behind, slashing through the metal plate she wore on her back to scar her skin. Blake cried out, stumbling, but still had the strength to slash in turn at the forepaw of the nearest beowolf; she didn’t sever it, but she made it recoil. She tried to ignore the claws that raked her shoulders, lashing out with her cleaver; maybe she killed one, maybe she injured one, maybe she did nothing at all; it was hard to tell. The world had shrunk to a black mass around her, to a few bony masks snarling into her face, to the space that she could swing her weapon. She threw her hook and thought she got one. It was so hard to tell. Hard to concentrate through the pain.

They raked her leg. Blake couldn’t restrain the shriek of pain as she collapsed onto her knees, but she held it together long enough to stab one of them through the gut. She knew she killed it, she saw it die, she tried to take advantage of the momentum of the kill, but her leg was burning, it wouldn’t support her weight, it crumbled beneath her as she tried to stand.

She was struck across the neck and face, knocked to the ground; she could feel the blood; it felt… it felt so warm.

Her vision was… starting to blur. The beowolf that loomed above her was indistinct, hard to make out; it was just colours without any real shape.

It was getting hard to see anything at all.

Green. Green light. So bright. Blinding.

And then there was only darkness.

Bursts of magic flew from Sunset’s palms, striking down beowolf after beowolf, starting with the one that was straddling Blake but showing no mercy to any of them, slaying them all, one after another, and none of them even got close to her.

She didn’t have a lot of magic left – she’d used a fair bit of it getting here – but that didn’t matter; what mattered was killing the grimm before they killed Blake, and if she had to use all of her magic to accomplish that, then she would.

And she did. The grimm died, and Sunset had no time to consider the state of her magical reserves as she rushed to Blake’s side.

Ruby, it seemed, was basically unhurt. She was unconscious, and her aura was down, but it seemed that her aura breaking was the extent of the damage. Blake, on the other hand… they had really done a number on Blake. Her clothes were torn to shreds, and the fair skin beneath it was not much better: she had a nasty wound to her neck and the bottom of her face; she had scars raking down her sides, gashes on her leg; what remained of her white waistcoat was soaked with blood.

“Blake?” Sunset cried, as she knelt down beside her. “Blake? Blake, if you can hear me, say something.”

Blake did not reply.

Sunset tore off her jacket, draping it over Blake like a blanket and pressing it down, trying to smother as many of Blake’s wounds as she could reach – and see. She used telekinesis – might as well use the magic while she had it – to press the jacket down everywhere equally. Leather wasn’t the best for this, but her tank-top wasn’t really big enough.

Sunset held her vambraces to Blake’s mouth; it misted up from her breath, but only slightly. Blake was still alive, but only just.

Sunset pressed the jacket down harder. “Come on, Blake. Stay with me. I need you to fight for just a little longer, okay? Come on, you can’t die before you’ve achieved equality, come on.”

“Ruby?” Jaune’s voice echoed through the trees. “Blake?”

Oh, thank Celestia. “Jaune!” Sunset yelled. “Over here, quickly!”

“Sunset?” Jaune cried in disbelief.

“Yes!” Sunset shouted back. “Come on, Blake’s hurt!”

“Blake?” Jaune repeated, still with the incredulity in his voice, but he came nonetheless, emerging out of the trees and onto the path, with Flash Sentry just a step or two behind him.

Jaune’s eyes widened as he saw Blake. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset replied. “Can you do your thing?”

“What about Ruby?” Jaune asked, looking around for her.

“She’ll be fine, I think,” Sunset replied, taking her jacket off Blake so that Jaune could get a better look at her. “Blake needs you more.”

“Right. Okay. Sure,” Jaune said, and it was his turn to rush to her side now, even as Sunset took a step away. He knelt down beside her and held his healing hands over her, and the shining light spread from his palms to engulf her with its golden glowing embrace.

“Thank you,” Sunset murmured. Jaune didn’t reply; he was too busy concentrating on his work.

Sunset left him to it; he had had his semblance for long enough, he was perfectly capable of doing what needed to be done. Sunset walked towards Ruby, scooping up Sol Invictus and Soteria – she had discarded them to take on the beowolves – as she did so.

“Sunset,” Flash said.

Sunset stopped, looking at him. “Hey, Flash,” she muttered.

Flash looked at her for a moment, then looked away, and then looked back again. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he said.

Sunset hesitated. “Mmm. Likewise,” she said quietly.

Flash blinked. “Where’s the girl you were with? Arslan, was it?”

“I… I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “We got separated. I had to find Ruby.”

“You left her?” Flash demanded.

“She volunteered, I had to make sure that Ruby was okay, and Blake,” Sunset insisted. “Once I’ve made sure they're safe, I will go back and look for her.” She knelt down beside Ruby, checking her more thoroughly for any injuries. She couldn’t see any. It seemed that being knocked out really was the extent of it.

Sunset guessed that she had Blake to thank for that.

I don’t know how I can begin to thank you properly for that.

“What does safe look like right now?” Flash asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Sunset admitted.

“Jaune and I-”

“Jaune can’t fight while he’s helping Blake,” Sunset declared.

“And you don’t trust me,” Flash said.

“Not as much as I trust myself,” Sunset replied. “No offence.”

Flash didn’t reply to that, perhaps because he had no reply and perhaps because they were both immediately distracted by the sound of something else approaching.

Sunset snatched up Sol Invictus and immediately ran to put herself between the new intruder and Jaune and Blake.

“Stay where you are, Jaune; I’ll cover you,” Sunset said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t,” Jaune said, and he even sounded sincere about it.

Sunset raised her rifle to her shoulder; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flash coming to stand beside her, shield up and spear resting atop the rim of Rho Aias.

The ursa lumbered out of the woods, its arms swaying slightly by its sides. Its movements were stiff, a little sluggish, and instead of a roar, a sort of barely audible moan escaped its bleach bone jaws.

It took one single, solitary, halting step forwards before it collapsed onto the ground.

It did this because it had Miló buried in its neck.

“Sorry I’m late,” Pyrrha said, snatching up her weapon out of the disintegrating ursa as she strode forwards.

“Always glad to see you, Pyrrha, you know that,” Sunset said, evident relief breaking in her voice as she lowered the muzzle of her rifle. “Surprised, but glad.”

“Once I knew something was wrong, I couldn’t just wait,” Pyrrha replied. “How’s Ruby?”

“Unconscious, but unhurt,” Sunset said, stepping aside. “Blake, on the other hand…”

Pyrrha gasped, her eyes widening. “What did she-?”

“Protected Ruby, I think,” Sunset murmured. “We won’t know until she tells us; she was… when I got here, she was almost done. If Jaune hadn’t shown up…”

Pyrrha nodded. “How is she, Jaune?”

Jaune glanced up at her. “I… I think she’s stabilising?” He ventured. “I don’t know; it’s really hard to tell.” He paused. “What’s going on up there?”

“I… don’t really know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Or rather… when Cinder and I left-”

“Cinder’s here too?” Sunset asked.

“I left her with Twilight; Sage is also wounded,” Pyrrha explained. “No other students are being dropped into the forest. I think something must have gone wrong somehow.”

“Tell us about it,” Sunset said.

“And with the nevermores, I suppose it might be too dangerous. But what I don’t understand is that the Atlesian airships are covering Beacon, but not attacking the grimm over the forest. Or in it. They’re not doing anything to help us,” Pyrrha continued.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Flash said.

“Twilight can’t explain it either,” Pyrrha added.

“So what you’re saying is that we’re on our own?” Sunset asked.

“I’m afraid so,” agreed Pyrrha.

Sunset made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a wince. “Okay. Now that you’re here, can you stay here? Arslan stayed behind to buy me a little time to reach Ruby, but now that you can protect them, I should go back and try to find her.”

Before she could, before Pyrrha could agree, before any of them could do anything, they were disturbed by the sounds of howling beowolves filtering through the trees towards them.

The howling of a lot of beowolves.

“Oh no,” Flash moaned. “They must have followed us after all.”

“You brought them here?!” Sunset snapped.

“If we hadn’t gotten here, Blake would be in real trouble,” Jaune reminded her.

You could have left him, Sunset thought, but did not say because… because she didn’t actually want Jaune to leave Flash behind, and if he had done so… she probably would have gone back for him before she went back for Arslan. Such was the hold that he had on her still. “How many?”

“Too many,” Flash replied. “More than I’ve ever seen in one place before.”

To Jaune, Sunset asked, “Can you move Blake?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune moaned. “I can’t tell.”

Sunset glanced at Ruby, lying beneath the tree as though she were sleeping beneath its leafy bower. “Pyrrha, get Ruby up into that tree and stay there until… until help arrives; it's bound to eventually.”

I may not like Professor Ozpin, but he wouldn’t let the students he’s taken an interest in die, would he?

Maybe if we did, it would prove that we weren’t that interesting after all.

The three of them formed a line, a little line, a meagre line, but the best line that they could muster in the circumstances. Pyrrha’s Miló was in rifle mode, ranged alongside Sol Invictus; Flash kept his Caliburn in spear configuration, and Rho Aias held before him.

The howling of the beowolves grew louder and louder; the three huntsmen could not see them yet through the trees, but they could hear them and measure their approach by the cacophony they made, a swelling sound of bloodlust that grew louder by the moment until-

Until for one brief and shining moment, the howling of the beowolves was drowned out by the whining of an engine as an airship passed overhead, casting its shadow over the trio, then over Jaune where he tended to Blake, before it flew away, banking swiftly to return towards them. And as it banked, Sunset could see it clearly: an Atlesian Skyray painted in bright cyan, with the cloud and rainbow lightning bolt of Rainbow Dash painted proudly on the nose.

The Ace of Canterlot (New)

The Ace of Canterlot

James called. Ozpin wasn’t particularly surprised. He sometimes thought that James let his closeness towards his students cloud his judgement as a headmaster a little too much – James was not their father, and Ozpin feared that he forgot that fact more often than was wise – but it made the general rather predictable to one who knew him as well as Ozpin did.

And in the current circumstance, Ozpin found it hard to blame him. They might have a number of broad philosophical disagreements, ranging from the proper role of the military to Ozpin’s belief that James coddled his Atlas students too much, teaching them to rely on outside help that might not always be available – the current situation being a case in point – but he couldn’t blame James for being desperate for news.

Had their places been reversed… had their places been reversed, he hoped he would have been just the same, even if he feared it would not be so.

He answered the call. “General.”

“How’s it going down there?” James asked immediately, forgoing all pleasantries.

“Miss Nikos has entered the forest, accompanied by Miss Fall,” Ozpin said. “Whether they will be enough to turn the tide is… uncertain.”

“Oz, you know that we can’t just wait this out,” Ironwood declared. “Now that those grimm are here, they aren’t just going to get bored and go away again; at least while there are still students in the forest, the grimm will keep hunting them.”

“I’m aware of the behaviour of the grimm, James,” Ozpin declared reproachfully.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” James demanded. He sighed. “I’ve tried contacting the Council again, but I’m being answered by their secretary.”

“As am I,” Ozpin replied. This was the downside of having treated the Council as he had and of having given First Councillor Aris so many headaches over the past year: the First Councillor considered herself to have been ill-used by him, and now, she was being petty in response.

He would have begrudged her the vindictiveness less if there were not lives on the line.

James scowled. “Politicians,” he growled. “Who came up with this set-up?”

“Someone who was doing what he thought was best,” Ozpin replied softly. “Someone who knew he was establishing the worst system in the world, apart from all the others that had already been tried.”

“Forgive me if I withhold my agreement,” James muttered. “What are we going to do, Oz?”

Ozpin was silent for a moment. Miss Shimmer, who could have been either great or terrible or somewhere in between; Miss Nikos, so full of promise, the last flower to bloom from a bygone world; Miss Rose, Summer’s girl, so young and so eager, in heart the very model of a huntress. All thrown into the fire. All at risk. All… all gone, perhaps.

He had hoped that their skill might see them through, he had thought that if they could survive this trial by fire, then they would have proved themselves one step closer to being ready, but James was right: the grimm would not stop hunting them. And it was unlikely that they could kill every grimm that had been drawn into that part of the forest. Perhaps they could fight their way to the Green Line, out of the Emerald Forest, but that seemed a slender thread on which to build any great hopes.

Ozpin wished he had his cane with him; he felt the sudden need to lean upon it.

“I am not sure that there is anything we can do,” he murmured.

James stared at him. “We can’t just give up on them, Oz! There must be something; we have to do something!”

“Is this not what we do, James?” Ozpin demanded. “We send these valiant young men and women into great peril, even to their certain deaths? Do we not send them out to fight and die alone, unaided, and then hate ourselves for being monsters that we are and then do it all again tomorrow? Is there any difference except that these young gallants have not yet been given the fig-leaf that we call graduation?”

“Oz-” James began.

“This is hardly the moment for you to try and console me, James,” Ozpin informed him quietly.

“No,” James murmured. “No, I guess it’s not.” He paused. “I try not to leave anyone to die alone if I can avoid it.”

“Sometimes…” Ozpin didn’t finish that thought. He didn’t actively seek it either, but there were instances when it was quite simply unavoidable. “I do not know what there is to be done.”

“Sir!” the voice of Miss Dash rang out from behind him. “Permission to speak!”

Dash’s leg twitched. Her foot tapped impatiently up and down upon the ground.

Something was wrong. It was obvious that something was wrong. Everyone in the freshman class, gathered outside in front of the docking pads, knew that something was wrong. Knew that something had gone wrong. Knew that things in the Emerald Forest weren’t going according to plan.

What gave it away? What didn’t give it away? The fact that Professor Ozpin and Professor Port were huddled together discussing things that they didn’t want the students to hear, the fact that no more Bullheads had taken off, the fact that you only had to turn around and you could see nevermores flying around out past the school, the fact that a cruiser and its air wing had taken up a defensive position over the school, none of this was normal. None of this was how things were supposed to go.

Rainbow didn’t know what, exactly, had gone wrong, but she knew that something had. Everyone knew that something had. None of these students here were idiots; at least, none were bigger idiots than Rainbow Dash. They all had eyes; they could all work this stuff out.

Of course, none of them were doing anything about it. They were only whispering and murmuring and worrying… and tapping their feet.

Everyone except Pyrrha. Pyrrha had done something. Pyrrha had run for the cliffs, and if Rainbow wasn’t mistaken, she had jumped right off them too. Off the cliffs and into the forest. She had gone to help her friends, while Rainbow… Twilight was down there, Twilight was there while something was going wrong, and Rainbow was just… just standing here!

She felt like a coward. Pyrrha made her feel like a coward.

What’s going on? And why isn’t anyone doing anything about it? Why is that ship holding station instead of taking the fight to the grimm?

Is Twilight still okay?

“You’re tapping your foot,” Ciel observed.

Rainbow glanced at her. Ciel stood at ease, her hands clasped behind her back. Clasped a little too tightly. “And your hands are too tight,” Rainbow replied.

Ciel’s only reply to that was a slight sigh.

“Are you… are you both worried?” Penny ventured. “About Twilight?”

Rainbow hesitated. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m worried.”

Ciel hesitated for even longer than Rainbow had. “As am I,” she said at last.

Penny blinked. “Should I be worried, too? This… it isn’t how things are supposed to go, is it?”

“No, Penny, it is not,” Ciel declared. “The following waves of students should have been flown in in quick succession, and there should have been no need for a fleet deployment.”

Penny frowned. “But if the fleet has been deployed, then isn’t everything okay? Won’t they save everyone?”

“That’s how it's supposed to work,” Rainbow muttered.

“In this case… we simply lack information,” Ciel said. “I suspect that Professor Ozpin and Professor Port have discussed the situation at hand, but they are not sharing their information with us.”

“I… I see,” Penny said softly. “But Pyrrha and Ruby are really strong, especially Pyrrha; and so is Sunset too, in a different way to them. I know that Twilight wasn’t partnered up with any of them, but maybe if they all team up, then-”

“Believe me, Penny, if I knew that had happened, I would not be nearly so worried,” Rainbow replied. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be nearly so worried if I knew that Twilight was with Blake, never mind all the others. But I don’t know that, and so… so I worry.” And I hate that Pyrrha has more guts than I do.

“You are not at fault,” Ciel said.

“Huh?” Rainbow asked.

“Pyrrha has followed the dictates of her conscience, but you are not at fault by remaining here in obedience to orders,” Ciel assured her.

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “Then why do I feel at fault?”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “Obedient service is not always easy,” she said in that typically even tone of hers.

“Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better,” Rainbow growled. She turned around, looking over the heads of some of the students gathered around her to see – past and through the screen of Atlesian airships grouped around the cruiser – the nevermores flying over the forest. “The problem is the nevermores,” she declared.

“What do you mean?” Penny asked.

“I mean, that if the skies were clear, it wouldn’t matter what kind of trouble there was down in the forest because we could either bring in more students or, if things were really too hot, airlift the ones that were already in the forest out again. Even if they didn’t want to continue the exercise, then they could get Twi and the others out. But because of all those grimm in the… ah!”

Penny’s eyes widened. “Rainbow Dash?”

“I’m such an idiot!” Rainbow cursed, smacking herself on the forehead for only thinking like a huntress in training when she wasn’t just that, not by a long shot. “Wait here,” she commanded before she started pushing her way through the crowd – Penny followed her in spite of Rainbow’s instructions, practically forcing Ciel to do likewise – until she had not only cleared the front rank of the huddled students, but closed the distance with the headmaster by half, waiting until she reached the edge of the landing pad on which he stood to come to attention, slamming her foot down on the pad, and say. “Sir! Permission to speak!”

Professor Ozpin turned to face her slowly. He had a scroll in his hand, and on that scroll, Rainbow could just about make out the face of General Ironwood looking out at her.

Rainbow saluted. “Sir!”

“At ease, Dash,” General Ironwood said in a voice that was distant but audible nevertheless. Rainbow saw the General return her salute, and so she lowered her arm and came to an ‘at ease’ posture, legs spaced out and hands clasped behind her back.

Professor Ozpin’s expression was unreadable, at least to Rainbow. He walked towards her and kept his voice soft as he said, “Permission granted, Miss Dash.”

“Request permission to mount a rescue, sir.”

Professor Ozpin glanced down at General Ironwood, who – unless Rainbow was imagining it, which was possible – had a slight smile on his face.

“Explain, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin said.

“I don’t know whether the situation on the ground is so bad that you wouldn’t insert any more students in there if you could, sir, but you can’t,” Rainbow said. “And you can’t get the students of the first wave out either because the grimm own the skies over the Emerald Forest. Now, I… I don’t know why we’re letting them rule it,” she said quickly, hoping to get over the hump of the disrespect to the General quickly but at the same time knowing that if she didn’t say it, it would keep on bugging her until she did. “But I can get them out regardless, in my Skyray.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows threatened to rise. “There are a very large number of nevermores, Miss Dash; believe me, withholding evacuation is not a decision that I take lightly. What makes you think that you can accomplish this?”

“Because I’m that good of a pilot, sir,” Rainbow replied. “But you don’t have to believe that; you only have to ask yourself: what have you got to lose? Me. And if you risk me, then you might get some of the gold out of that forest… isn’t it worth the risk?”

Professor Ozpin again glanced down at General Ironwood. “James? What do you say to this?”

“I say that if anyone can get this done, Dash can,” General Ironwood replied, and he was looking at Rainbow, not at Professor Ozpin, when he said it.

Rainbow felt her chest puff itself out a little as she heard that. “I won’t let you down, sir.”

“Considering what you’ve volunteered for, Miss Dash, letting anyone down should be the least of your concerns,” Professor Ozpin replied. The corners of his lips twitched upwards. “Permission granted, Miss Dash. Bring them home.”

Rainbow saluted. “Yes sir!” She turned around, finding Penny much closer than she had expected. “Penny, stay here. Ciel, make sure that Penny stays here.”

“Affirmative,” Ciel responded.

“'Stay here'?” Penny exclaimed. “But Ciel and I should come with you. Twilight and the others might need help-”

“I’ll have help,” Rainbow replied. “Just… not you.”

“Why not me?” Penny demanded. “I’m ready! I’ve already fought the White Fang; what’s so different about-?”

“This is not a question of readiness, Penny,” Ciel said, placing a hand on Penny’s shoulder. “This is a question of… value, is it not, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow nodded. “You’re too valuable to risk in something like this.”

“But you’re risking your life for our friends,” Penny pointed out.

“And if the General walks down any street in Low Town, he can find twenty guys just like me,” Rainbow replied. “You’re the only Penny that we’ve got.”

Penny pouted. “No! They’re my friends too, and I want to help you rescue them! Why should I just sit here-?”

“Penny,” Ciel cut her off. “This complaining is childish and to no purpose.”

“If you’re going to treat me like a child, then why shouldn’t I be childish?” demanded Penny.

“Penny,” Rainbow said sharply. “Look at me.”

Penny did, indeed, look; her green eyes were bright from the backlighting, and they glared into Rainbow’s face.

Rainbow didn’t flinch; it would look bad if she did. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“I never-”

“Do you trust me?” Rainbow repeated.

Penny nodded solemnly. “I trust you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Then trust me,” Rainbow implored her. “I’m going to get them back, but you need to stay here and stay safe. There are lots of battles to fight, real battles, battles with whole kingdoms at stake. But this isn’t one of them. Trust me, I can get this done.”

Penny hesitated. “You will save everyone, won’t you?”

Rainbow grinned, and threw her a thumbs up. “I’m all over it.”

“Rise up through snow and cold and heart of winter,” Ciel murmured. “May the Lady be your co-pilot.”

Rainbow nodded but said nothing. She looked out across the sea of gathered students. She wasn’t going to take Penny, and not taking Penny, she couldn’t really take Ciel either – someone had to take over as team leader if this didn’t work out – but she did want someone to go in with her, just in case anyone needed help groundside. Someone who could handle themselves, someone who wasn’t afraid of a little direct action, someone reliable, but also someone who was crazy enough to go along with this.

Or a team whose leader is nuts but whose second is reliable. “Hey, Trixie!” she yelled as she walked past Penny and Ciel and back the way she’d come. “You want to be a hero?”

“The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is already a hero amongst heroes!” Trixie proclaimed, throwing back her cape and hitting a green-haired, red-eyed girl in the face with it in the process. Trixie didn’t notice as she grinned. “But I’m always ready to join in a stupid plan if you need my help.”

“If Twilight needs help, then we’re in,” Starlight agreed.

“Thanks, guys,” Rainbow said. “I’ll owe you for this.”

Tempest rolled her eyes. “Sure. Sure. Whatever.”

“We’re not doing this so you’ll owe us,” Sunburst insisted. “We’re doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”

“But we’ll take a favour anyway,” Trixie added.

“Ignore her,” Starlight said. “Blake risked her life to save us on our last mission. How can we do less now that she needs help?”

“Maybe nothing, but I’ll owe you anyway,” Rainbow said. “Now come on, let’s go.”

Ozpin looked down at his scroll. “Can she do it, James? Or are we throwing good children after more good children?”

“I told you before, Oz: I’ve never met anyone with more guts and determination than Rainbow Dash,” Ironwood replied. “She’ll get it done; you can count on it.”

Rainbow led Team TTSS up the ramp into The Bus, their feet clattering upon the metal of the ramp as they piled inside the airship.

“Starlight, I need you up here with me,” Rainbow said as she took off her wings – she’d hardly need them to fly a Skyray, and the truth was that their bulk got in the way a little when she was sitting in the pilot’s chair – and stowed them in one of the lockers behind the benches next to the side doors. “At least until we pick up Twilight.”

“Uh, I’ve flown a little,” Starlight said, “but I wouldn’t say I’ve got what it takes for a mission like this.”

“I don’t need you to take the controls; I need someone smart to bring up the locations of everyone we need to pick up,” Rainbow explained, slamming the locker door shut with a metallic thud. “Can you use their scrolls to trace their positions?”

“Sure, if they’ve got their scrolls with them,” Starlight replied.

Rainbow grinned. “I knew I could count on you.” It was well known that Starlight Glimmer could turn her hand to… pretty much absolutely anything. She might not be the best at all of those things – she wasn’t quite as smart as Twilight, or as scientifically or mechanically gifted, and she was right: she was nowhere near as good a flyer as Rainbow Dash – but she was pretty darn good at all of them. It had been, to be honest, a little unnerving how awesome she was at everything, like, why was General Ironwood wasting his time with Rainbow Dash when this girl was obviously going to be Atlas’ champion in years ahead? Then she’d had a freak-out from the stress of it all, gone AWOL, and eventually been tracked down to a nameless village out in the wilds where she’d been trying to persuade everyone to wear sackcloth and bake deliberately bad-tasting muffins – the villagers hadn’t taken much notice and honestly seemed glad to have a huntress around – which had answered that question, lost Starlight her team-leader spot, and meant that she had come back to repeat her first year after she got out of therapy. All in all, being Trixie’s second seemed to agree with her more than being the rising hope of Atlas ever had, and she hadn’t had any problems since, so Rainbow wasn’t worried about having her ride shotgun.

In fact, in the current situation, she couldn’t think of anyone that she’d rather have.

“Tempest,” she added, “when we set down, I’m going to need you on one of these guns.” She pointed to the two triple-barrelled rotary cannons mounted on rails running along the ceiling parallel to the doors. Not all Skyrays carried them all the time – they were usually reserved for airships attached to front line units – but The Bus had them for situations just like this, and a good thing too, considering there were likely to be as many grimm on the ground as in the air.

“Understood,” Tempest said, her voice and expression alike betraying nothing. She was absolutely impassive, the situation not fazing her at all.

That was probably a good thing.

“But right now, everyone strap in,” Rainbow said. “This ride could get rough.” She turned in the direction of the cockpit, trusting Starlight to follow.

“Wait!” the voice that hailed her belonged to Sun, and his voice was followed shortly after – as Rainbow turned back – by his self as Sun leapt onto the ramp and scampered into the airship. “Wait,” he repeated. “I’m coming with you.”

Rainbow frowned. “Sun, I know you must be worried about Blake-”

“This isn’t about Blake!” Sun exclaimed. “I mean, sure, I’m worried that she’s in there, even though I know that she’s a totally awesome huntress, and if anyone can handle herself in a situation like this, it’s her, but this isn’t about her. This is about Sage. He’s my teammate, and he’s in trouble, and so I should do something to help him. I should have gone with Pyrrha, but I didn’t, and now… I should do this, don’t you think? Isn’t this what a team leader would do?”

Rainbow hesitated. “Maybe it is,” she conceded. “But if I let you come with me, and then Weiss shows up wanting to come with us to help out Flash-”

“Rainbow Dash!” Weiss called, and Rainbow heard her feet pitter-pattering up the ramp before she burst in, shoving Sun slightly aside to make room for her. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Rainbow insisted. “If you two come along, and then Yang shows up next, there’s not going to be any room for Sage or Flash or anybody else we’re supposed to evacuate.”

“If you have us, why do you need… these people?” Weiss demanded, waving one dismissive hand to encompass Team TTSS as Trixie, Tempest, and Sunburst took their seats on the front benches and strapped themselves in.

“Because I trust them,” Rainbow said. “And also because they’re kind of expendable if this goes wrong.”

“Hey!” Trixie cried.

“Listen, I get it,” Rainbow said, “you want to be good team leaders, believe me; in your shoes, I would want in too. But I also know that if I were down there in that forest, the last thing I’d want would be for my team leader, my friend, to get hurt on some dangerous rescue plan.”

“Then why are you going?” Weiss demanded.

Rainbow grinned. “Because I don’t take enough notice of what Twilight wants.” The smile faded from her face. “Trust me, we’re going to bring them home, all of them. But I need you to step down and wait for them to come back, okay?”

Weiss frowned. “What makes you so sure?”

"Because this is what I do," Rainbow said earnestly. She could fight; she could kill grimm; if it came to it, maybe she could kill men too; but what she was, what she really was, what she thought that General Ironwood took notice of her for, was a saviour. She'd protected Twilight and the others from Chrysalis; she'd saved Applejack, Maud, and Spearhead from the grimm; the reason she was the leader of Team RSPT was in case somebody needed to save Penny. That was what Rainbow Dash did: she made sure that everyone got home safe.

And she didn't mean to break that streak now.

Weiss looked into Rainbow's eyes. "Winter tells me that you're very good," she murmured. "And my sister is a very good judge of character. Come on, Sun; we don't want to get in anyone's way."

Sun's mouth opened; for a moment, it looked as though he might say something, but he did not; he simply followed after Weiss as they both exited the airship.

"Trixie, shut that door before Yang shows up," Rainbow ordered; she heard the door hissing shut behind her as she, once again, turned to the cockpit.

This time, she made it there and sat down in the pilot's seat on the right-hand side and started running hastily through the pre-flight checklist. Dust at one hundred percent, engines green, weapons loaded, sensors operating…

Starlight sat down in the seat beside her. "There is one thing that concerns me a little," she admitted, even as she took out her scroll and began to tap away on it.

"What's that?" Rainbow asked.

"There are ten people down in the forest, right?" Starlight said. "Including the two who went in after the first group?"

"Pyrrha and Cinder, yeah, ten," Rainbow replied.

"This airship is only rated to carry ten people," Starlight said. "And there are already five of us."

"Yeah, but come on Starlight, this an Atlesian airship," Rainbow declared. "Everyone knows Atlesian engineering has a one hundred percent margin of safety."

"Does it?" Starlight asked.

Rainbow paused for a moment. "Well, let's hope so, huh?" she said, flashing a grin in Starlight's direction. Twilight had told her that it was so; admittedly, Twilight had told her so while defending the way that she had built a hundred and fifty percent margin of safety into the Wings of Harmony.

Hopefully, Twilight hadn't been lying to save face.

Nah, Twilight wasn't the kind to do something like that. One hundred percent margin of safety.

Probably.

Starlight rolled her eyes.

As the engines on The Bus stirred to life, Rainbow quickly got out her own scroll and called Twilight. She wouldn't have risked calling anyone else in the middle of a hot combat zone like that, and she didn't know of anyone in the forest who would be stupid enough to answer their scroll in the middle of a fight, but Twilight's armour included her VI, Midnight, who could do things like answer the scroll without Twilight have to lift a finger.

Rainbow wasn't always sure that she liked Midnight, but she was glad that she existed right now.

"Hello, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, her voice seeming even more mechanically distorted than normal when coming out of the other end of a scroll.

"Rainbow Dash?" Twilight cried.

"Twilight!" Rainbow said loudly. "Are you okay?"

"Thanks to Pyrrha," Midnight said.

"What happened?" Rainbow demanded.

"Nothing happened," Twilight insisted.

"Several deficiencies were discovered with Twilight's combat system," Midnight informed Rainbow. "Also, she almost died."

"'Almost-'" Rainbow forced herself not to panic. Panic wasn't going to help. She needed to be calm and cool to fly the airship. "How much aura do you have left?"

"About twenty percent," Midnight said.

"It's not my aura that I'm concerned with," Twilight declared. "Sage is hurt; he needs help. What's happening up there?"

"What's happening is that I'm coming to get everyone," Rainbow said. "Starlight is trying to fix your location using your scroll; can you give her a hand with that, or are you too preoccupied?"

"Starlight?"

"Hey, Twilight," Starlight broke in. "Rough day, huh?"

Twilight sighed on the other end of the line. "You could say that."

"You can tell us all about it when we get back to Beacon," Starlight said. "Until then, do you think you can help me out?"

"Sure, I'll do what I can," Twilight said. "Rainbow, are you sure you can do this? The nevermores-"

"Let me worry about the nevermores; you just stay safe until I get there."

"Okay. I'll try. Thank you."

"Yes, thank you, Rainbow Dash," Midnight added. "This is why you're my favourite."

"No, I'm not," Rainbow replied.

Midnight paused. "No," she admitted. "As a computer, I don't have favourites."

"I don't believe that either," Rainbow muttered. "Sit tight; we're on our way." She ended the call, gripped the wheel, and hauled up on it to lift The Bus up into the air. The sky sank down to meet them, the buildings of Beacon falling away as the airship ascended. Starlight looked down at the scroll in her lap, tapping away, while Rainbow's gaze flickered between the view out of the cockpit and the instruments arrayed in front of her. Sensors detected no hostiles; all systems were go.

Rainbow's hands spun the wheel, turning the airship upon a central point so that the Skyray's bulbous nose was facing eastward towards the Emerald Forest. Rainbow Dash accelerated, the airship lurching forwards towards the line of Skydarts ranged around the cruiser that, now she was in the cockpit, she could identify as the Resolution; they were guarding the cliffs, warding off any attempt the nevermores might make at Beacon. There probably wasn't much chance of it – the grimm weren't stupid, unfortunately, and they probably knew that attacking a huntsman academy was a cheap ticket to an early grave – but it was the closest the Atlesian forces could get to engaging the enemy.

Rainbow pulled the microphone off the wall. "Resolution, this is Rorari Three-Two heading out over the Emerald Forest."

"Roger that, Rorari Three-Two; good luck out there."

"Wish you were coming with me."

"Wish we were coming too, Three-Two, over."

"Understood," Rainbow said and hung the microphone back up.

Starlight shuffled in her seat. "I wonder why they're just standing there?"

"We'll find out eventually," Rainbow said.

"Will we also find out what Twilight's doing in an academy uniform?" Starlight demanded.

Rainbow looked at her.

"Come on, Rainbow Dash, you must realise this is the question everyone who knows Twilight has been asking," Starlight needled. "She's no huntress, so why the act? What's going on?"

Rainbow looked away, out of the cockpit. "It's classified."

Starlight snorted. "In other words, don't ask," she muttered.

"Pretty much, yeah."

Starlight shook her head. "So many secrets."

If only you knew, Rainbow thought.

They passed through the Resolution's fighter screen, beyond the cliffs and out over the Emerald Forest; Rainbow could see patches of the green and verdant forest canopy out of the corners of the cockpit, passing down below, stretching out green uninterrupted for miles beyond.

And above the trees, the nevermores circled. There must have been about fifty of them, circling, darting back and forth, their wings flapping as they peered downwards at the forest below. Every so often, one of them would dive down towards the trees, but never for very long, never reaching the ground; they always pulled up before they reached that point.

Rainbow asked, "What do you think they're doing?"

Starlight looked up from her scroll and shuddered. "I think they're looking for prey," she said before she plugged in her scroll to a dock on the dashboard. Instantly, the scroll began to project a three-dimensional hologram of the forest, with ten red dots marking positions scattered across the map: seven in one place, one solitary dot off to the north-west, and three dots closest to The Bus.

"That's Twilight, there," Starlight said, indicating the trio of red dots. "One of them, at least."

The Skyray's sensors began to blare out.

"And that's the first nevermore, right there," Rainbow muttered.

It was coming straight at them. Its mouth was open, and although Rainbow couldn't hear it, she could imagine the shrill shriek coming out of the giant grimm's mouth as it bore down on them, head to head, talons outstretched.

I bet you wouldn't be going head to head like this against a Skydart, Rainbow thought. The grimm weren't stupid, more was the pity; they knew which kinds of airships were more dangerous than others.

Or thought they did, in this case. It was coming straight for The Bus because, as big as it was, it didn't believe that the Skyray was armed with anything that could hurt it.

Rainbow was in no hurry to disabuse this one of the notion; as the nevermore flew straight at them, Rainbow did the same, maintaining a level course towards the nevermore in turn. She accelerated slightly and fired off the smaller rotary cannons mounted upon the wingtips; the guns fired, tracer rounds zipped past the cockpit, marking the way as the shots tracked the nevermore and impacted into it, bullets thudding into the black feathers of the grimm.

The grimm took no notice of them, ploughing through the fire, great wings beating, driving it on towards Rainbow Dash and her airship.

Once more, Rainbow found she could imagine the shriek.

"Uh," Starlight murmured. "You want to tell me why you're not using the bigger gun?"

"Not yet," Rainbow replied, her thumb hovering over the button to fire the Tempest cannon.

"Why not?" Starlight demanded.

"Because I want to make sure that I don't miss," Rainbow said, lining up her shot.

The nevermore stretched out its talons, its body rising upwards as it prepared to grab the Skyray from the front.

Rainbow fired the Tempest.

If there was anything to convince Rainbow that Atlesian ships were engineered with a truly staggering margin of safety, it was the fact that she had been able to strap the most ridiculous gun ever made to the bottom of an airship in no way designed for it without suffering any ill-effects whatsoever.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true; as Rainbow hit the button and held it down, as she fired the Tempest at the nevermore that wanted her dead so badly, the entire airship shook. The vibrations of the gun was like an earthquake on the ground, making the cockpit shake, and would have thrown one or both of Rainbow and Starlight out of their chairs if they hadn't been strapped in. Behind her, Rainbow heard Trixie moan in alarm as the whole airship wobbled like jelly that hadn't set right.

But it was worth it, for the way that the nevermore simply disappeared in a cloud of black feathers, thrown backwards as a stream of heavy calibre armour-piercing rounds struck it square on the breast with a buzzsaw sound that echoed upwards into the airship itself.

And then there were clear skies before them.

"And that," Rainbow said, "is why I waited."

The alarm began to ring out once again.

Rainbow Dash looked up to see two nevermores swooping down upon The Bus from out of the sun.

She banked hard to the left, tilting the Skyray, feeling herself being pulled down, pressed against the straps that held her in as she upped the power level on the engines just a little bit. She didn’t stay to fight – these nevermores might not have missed the fate of their comrade, and them coming down on her, it would be tough to get into position to fire the Tempest – so she ran, banking first to the left and then to the right, jinking this way and that while the nevermores pursued them, their black wings pounding, gaining slowly upon the Atlesian airship as they flew.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Starlight demanded.

“Yes.”

Starlight boggled at her for a moment. “Then why isn’t this thing going any faster?!”

“Because I don’t want to lose them,” Rainbow replied, “I want to string them along.”

Starlight stared at the girl in the pilot’s seat. “Are you crazy?”

“No, I’m a great pilot,” Rainbow replied, grinning like a maniac. Her hands were steady as a rock, and she didn’t know if Starlight noticed, but there was not a single bead of sweat anywhere upon her, certainly not on her hand. By the gods but she had missed this, both the freedom of flying and the thrill of it, of knowing that even on a good day, you were one slip up, one accident away from death, and that went double when there were grimm around.

Everything was in her own hands. Her survival was entirely up to her, and it was awesome! No limits, no boundaries, just showing the whole world what she could do.

And so she let the nevermores gain on her, drawing closer, ever closer, and then, when she judged that they had gotten close enough, Rainbow hauled back on the steering column, and then she let the throttle out. The enhanced engines of The Bus roared to life as Rainbow’s beauty shot upwards into the sky, soaring higher, ever higher, rising towards the clouds with the nevermores still in hot pursuit.

A Skyray was fast on the level – faster than a nevermore – but the avian grimm had a better rate of climb, so Rainbow needed to give it all she had in order to stay ahead of them during the race for the clouds. The nevermores stopped gaining, holding the distance between them and their prey even, never falling behind and not letting up in their pursuit, not for a single moment.

Starlight was being pressed backwards into her seat, moaning softly in discomfort. From behind, Rainbow could hear Trixie shrieking. She sounded a little like one of the nevermores.

The grin didn’t leave Rainbow’s face. Sure, things might not seem fun right now, and she could feel the harness digging into her chest the same as Starlight could, but once they pulled this off, they were all going to feel absolutely fantastic.

“Look at this view!” Rainbow whooped as they rose higher and higher, bursting through a cloud, rising so high that when Rainbow cut back on the engines for a moment, when she throttled the power back to a bare minimum, The Bus hung suspended for a moment, high above a world that was spread out all around them.

And it was beautiful. You could see the whole of Vale from up here, in all its sprawling glory. From up high, the Atlesian cruisers looked like the model ships that Ciel made. The Emerald Forest was a lush carpet of green laid out across the world so that nobody stubbed their toes walking on the floor, and the mountains rose up out of the earth like the jagged blades of an obsidian club. Rivers of sparkling sapphire wound their way across a land of tiny villages and small towns, and railway lines bound the land in chairs of iron.

Rainbow couldn’t see all the way to Atlas from up here, but in a way, that was a good thing. Home was a long way off, but it was good that the world wasn’t small enough to fit into the view from an airship.

The world was so vast and so beautiful.

She wondered where in all this expanse of loveliness Fluttershy and Applejack were; she tried to imagine them, wandering along the ground like tiny ants, while she sat in heaven looking down upon them all.

Then the Skyray began to fall.

It began to plummet to the ground, and the rate of its descent accelerated dramatically as Rainbow Dash turned the engines back on to maximum, turning the Skyray so that its nose was pointing straight towards the ground, the ground towards which the airship rushed with all the power at its command. The nevermores scattered out of her way, aided by Rainbow firing downwards at them to give them some more encouragement, but as The Bus flew headlong like a thunderbolt towards the ground, they pursued once more, joined by a third nevermore, all of them falling down, black darts pursuing.

The forest grew larger and larger, closer and closer.

“Rainbow Dash!” Starlight cried, holding onto the ceiling of the cockpit with one hand as she looked to be trying to push herself back into her seat.

Larger and larger, closer and closer.

“RAINBOW DASH!” Starlight yelled when there was nothing in their view but green trees, on which they could see the leaves.

Rainbow pulled up, hauling back on the steering column to wrest the Skyray out of its descent and bring it level, no, rising just a little bit. The bottom of the airship towards the tail hit the trees with a thump that made them all bounce, that made the airship rise a little and then fall a little before levelling off just above the treetops.

The nevermores were not so lucky. Unable pull up in time, all three of them, tangled up together, getting in one another’s way as they sought to escape their fate, ploughed into the ground, smashing trees beneath their bulk, kicking up great clouds of earth as they cratered the landscape beneath them.

Rainbow didn’t know if any of them had survived the impact, but she wasn’t about to take any chances; as she banked the airship around, she opened up the missile launchers on the starboard side and fired on the crater the grimm had left.

Nothing stirred once the smoke cleared.

A triumphant laugh began to rise from Rainbow’s throat… only to cease when she thought about how many adorable forest critters might have died as a result of what she did.

Maybe I won’t tell Fluttershy about this.

Starlight gasped. “That… that was-”

“Great, right?”

“Not quite the word I’d use,” Starlight replied.

There were no other nevermores actively trying to kill them, so Rainbow kept the airship flying just above the treetops as she looked back over her shoulder. “Everyone okay back there?”

Trixie groaned wordlessly.

“I think I might hurl,” Sunburst muttered.

“Tempest, can you stand?” Rainbow yelled.

“Of course,” Tempest replied. “You want me on the gun?”

“Yes,” Rainbow said; she looked back at Starlight’s map. They had, by luck, come down pretty close to the lone dot making their way through the forest. “Someone’s nearby.”

She heard, rather than saw, one of the side doors open up, but rather than glance back again to see Tempest deploying the side cannon, Rainbow kept her eyes in front of her – and on the sensors – as she banked The Bus gently in the direction of the single lost lamb in the forest. She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person would leave their partner like that.

Perhaps it was Blake; she could see Blake doing something stupidly noble like trying to lead the grimm away from Ruby.

She was that kind of person. It was what made her such a good fit for Atlas.

It was also the kind of thing that was going to get her killed one of these days if she wasn’t careful.

A flash movement caught her attention; a head poked up through the leaves, followed by a figure climbing up to the top of one of the trees, waving both her arms in the air to get Rainbow’s attention. It wasn’t Blake, it was the Haven student, Arslan Altan, the one who was some kind of bigshot back in Mistral. Rainbow brought the Skyray alongside the tree, and Arslan nimbly leapt aboard, landing inside with a thump against the metal.

“Thanks,” she said as Sunburst – feeling a little recovered – helped her to a seat. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting a rescue effort with all those nevermores around.” She paused. “Just like I wasn’t expecting to see any airship pull a stunt like that. That was incredible.”

“You didn’t have to experience it,” Trixie groaned.

“What happened here?” Sunburst asked. “Where’s your partner?”

“What happened is the creatures of grimm,” Arslan said. “There were so many of them; like, what kind of an exercise is this?”

“One that’s gone wrong,” Starlight declared as she got out of the co-pilot’s chair and made her way back into the passenger section. “Grimm numbers are much higher than expected; that’s why the skies are full of nevermores, that’s why we’re getting everyone out.” She glanced at Trixie. “We should get ready.”

Trixie unstrapped herself. “Quite right, Starlight. I was wondering who’d be the first to notice that it is time to get ready!”

Rainbow shook her head. As she guided the VTOL – gently, bearing in mind there was a door open now – towards the location of Twilight and her companions, she glanced back into the passenger section and said, “You never said what happened to your partner? Is Sunset okay?”

“Sunset went on ahead,” Arslan replied. “Ruby’s aura broke; she could move faster on her own. I tried to catch up, but I… got lost.”

Tempest sniggered.

“I’m a city girl; I don’t know where I am in the countryside!” Arslan protested.

Rainbow said nothing. What Sunset had done… it probably wasn’t the right thing to do, but at the same time, she could absolutely understand why Sunset had done it, and, well, there was a reason they were headed towards Twilight next.

Maybe Sunset and I are more alike than I thought.

There’s an encouraging thought.

In addition to Tempest on the cannon, Starlight crouched in the doorway with her Equaliser in rifle mode; as the Skyray flew low over the trees, Starlight would sometimes see a beowolf darting through the forest beneath them. Equaliser rang out, a turquoise-coloured laser bolt streaming from the barrel; sometimes, she could see that she had hit the target; other times, she just had to hope that she had.

They flew over one of the paths cutting through the forest, following it southwards towards Twilight’s location. Once or twice, they saw ursai or small groups of beowolves, and when they did, the side-cannon whirred as it sprayed the forest with fire, splintering tree bark and denuding the trees of their leaves as grimm were dissolved in the hail of fire.

Rainbow let out a breath that she hadn’t known that she’d been holding when she saw Twilight, distinctive in her lavender armour, waving one hand towards them. There was someone else with her too, Cinder Fall in her brown vest and pants, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up towards them. Rainbow could see Sage too, lying on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight’s voice broke through on the microphone. “Am I glad to see you!”

Rainbow nearly ripped the microphone off the wall. “Me too, Twi; me too. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight insisted. “It was a little scary, I admit, but I’m okay, thanks to Pyrrha and Cinder.”

“Where is Pyrrha?”

“She left Cinder here with me and went on ahead to go help Ruby,” Twilight said. “Her aura broke; I don’t know if she’s okay.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Rainbow assured her. “How’s Sage?”

“I don’t know; I’m not a doctor,” Twilight replied. “I’m not sure if we should move him.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Rainbow replied. “Hang on, I’ll set her down; that way nobody has to jump while carrying him.”

“Is there room to land here?”

“I’ll make it work,” Rainbow said, gently easing The Bus downwards towards the ground. It was a tight squeeze, definitely – this path had been made for people not for airships – but it had also been made to give people a reasonable amount of space, and so, by shifting first this way and then that, by moving the wings inch by inch to avoid the trees, by taking it nice and slow, she was able to bring the airship down to hover just above the deck. She didn’t extend out the ramp, as much as that might have made things easier. They might need to make a quick getaway, after all.

Sunburst got one of the two stretchers down from the ceiling and leapt down to carry it to Twilight and Sage, while Starlight also disembarked to cover them, Equaliser pressed against her shoulder as her aim darted this way and that.

Cinder, by contrast, embarked into the Skyray, not waiting for Twilight as she and Sunburst got Sage onto the stretcher. Rather, Cinder walked into the cockpit, her boots tapping lightly upon the floor, and leaned over Rainbow’s seat.

“So, gallant Atlas decided to rescue us after all,” Cinder drawled. “I must confess that I’m surprised.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Rainbow grunted, “Saving people is what Atlas does.”

“Oh, yes, you save everyone, don’t you,” Cinder said. “You never fail, you never falter, you never let anyone die. You have the power to save every single life.”

“I didn’t say that,” Rainbow said. “I just… we try, okay? We don’t leave anyone behind.”

“Apparently not,” Cinder conceded. “And yet… rather a small rescue party, isn’t it? Just you and… some other people.”

“We’re Team Tsunami!” Trixie declared. “Led by the Great and Powerful-”

“Fascinating,” Cinder interrupted. “My point is, why just one ship?”

“You only need one ship when I’m at the controls,” Rainbow declared. “Thanks, for sticking by Twilight.”

Cinder smirked. “Oh, don’t mention it, Rainbow Dash. It was pure pleasure.”

She retreated just as Twilight levitated Sage’s stretcher inside and then embarked herself, followed by Sunburst and Starlight. As Sunburst secured Sage’s stretcher on the floor, strapping both the stretcher and the patient in at the back of the airship so that neither of them would be thrown around if Rainbow had to do any more dramatic flying, Twilight made her way up to the cockpit.

Rainbow grabbed her, pulling her into an embrace that was no less tight for being one-armed. She pressed her forehead against Twilight’s and, for a moment, closed her eyes.

“You are not doing this again.”

Twilight laughed nervously. “I hope not.”

Rainbow opened her eyes. “I’m glad you're okay.”

“I’m glad you came for me.”

“Always,” Rainbow said softly.

A smile briefly spread across Twilight’s face, and for a moment, it looked as though she was going to say something else… but instead, she merely took the now vacant co-pilot’s seat, and Rainbow returned her attention to the controls as she guided the Skyray – once more, gently – back up into the air and towards the remaining students still in the forest.

She kept The Bus to about half the speed she was capable of, mostly because she didn’t want to completely overshoot the target or miss where Blake and the others were – maybe trying to get their attention like Arslan and Twilight – because she was going too fast to slow down in time.

Tank had taught her that there were times when slow and steady won the race.

However, as the Skyray glided over the treetops, Rainbow soon noticed – even before Starlight called out to her – that it wasn’t just the forest floor and the trees that were passing beneath them.

It was the grimm, a mass of grimm, maybe not enough to be called a horde – and Rainbow didn’t see any really big ones there – but it was certainly a huge column of beowolves, a black mass running through the forest, sometimes thinning out as a dense copse of trees or a rock formation presented some obstacle to their movement, but then flowing back again into the column they had presented before. They were like a river, a tide of grimm that could be momentarily broken up but not denied the unity of its course. Individual grimm were impossible to keep track of as they disappeared out of sight from time to time as the trees blocked the view from above, but it was impossible to lose sight of the mass of grimm, the sheer number of them moving in one group, one direction.

In the same direction as the huntsmen.

The sound of their roars and growls rose up from the forest floor as Tempest opened fire on them, spraying the column with rounds from her rapidly rotating cannon. Some of the beowolves looked up; they bared their fangs; they raised their paws in angry, futile challenge; but though Tempest’s fire raked their column, it did not diminish the size of the black, angry mass in any meaningful way.

Some of the beowolves leapt up into the air or else climbed trees before jumping off the highest branches that would bear their weight, claws flailing wildly as they sought to gain the Skyray and massacre all those within. Those that weren’t killed instantly by Tempest’s cannon, by Starlight’s Equaliser, those that weren’t burned by the fire from Trixie’s wand, fell back, flailing and howling, to the ground below as Rainbow pulled her airship upwards, out of reach of grasping claws.

She also accelerated, the engines roaring as the forest began to disappear beneath more rapidly, as The Bus gained ground over the grimm, racing towards the head of the column, soaring over beowolves and alphas, beyond them even as they raised their heads to look for the shadow that had passed overhead.

If they didn’t reach Blake and the rest before the grimm did, well, things could get messy.

But there always seemed to be more grimm ahead, the column they were dashing over never seemed to end, they never got out in front of the grimm, there were always more of them, more of them, and as the six red icons of the six students on Starlight’s map got closer and closer, Rainbow began to worry that the grimm might have beaten them to it after all.

They had not, thank the gods; at the last moment, just before they reached the point at which everyone was waiting, Rainbow and her Skyray overshot the grimm. Of course, she overshot the students too, which was why she hadn’t wanted to be going this fast in the first place, and had to bank around, descending from her loftier height towards them even as the first wave of grimm began to make their final approach.

She could see them, in the clearing: Blake was on the ground, with Jaune kneeling over her, applying his semblance to her – was she hurt? Was it serious? And how was it Blake was down, the truest mettle Rainbow had ever met in her life? – while Ruby slumbered in a nook formed by some tree roots, and Sunset, Pyrrha, and Flash formed a line against the onrushing grimm. The sunlight glimmered off the armour of Pyrrha and Flash momentarily dazzling Rainbow as she piloted the airship down in front of them.

It didn’t seem to be dazzling the grimm.

“Coming in hot!” Rainbow shouted. “Tsunami, get ready for incoming! Arslan, get them in, quickly!”

She brought The Bus in as fast and as hard as she dared without actually crashing it, offloading missiles from the pods mounted to her wings, raking the front of the column of grimm with fire from her wing-mounted guns – she didn’t want to risk the Tempest right now; the vibrations might throw the whole airship off kilter – before turning sharply to descend between the grimm and the huntsmen, a hollow metal barrier between the six and destruction.

The grimm burst out of the woods, howling and snarling and roaring for blood. Their roars were answered by the spitting of the cannon as Tempest raked them with fire, by the hissing of Equaliser as Starlight fired as swiftly as she could, by the crackling flames as Trixie’s fire, amplified by wind from Sunburst’s staff, erupted in a blazing cone to consume all before it.

“Get in! Quickly!” Arslan shouted, and it seemed less than a second to Rainbow’s ears before the sharp crack of Pyrrha’s rifle was added to the cacophony of sounds doing battle against the growling of the grimm.

“Two in,” Arslan called. There was the crack of Sunset Shimmer teleporting. “Four in. I’ll find her a seat; don’t worry.”

Sol Invictus began to bark loudly.

“Six in!” Arslan yelled. “Everybody safe and sound.”

Rainbow didn’t need telling twice. The moment she heard the words, she pulled the Skyray up sharply, closing the doors on both sides of the airship as The Bus shot upwards. She heard a thump striking the side, and then heard a muffled yelp as the beowolf who had tried to jump them lost its purchase and tumbled back to earth once more.

Rainbow risked a glance backwards, from the cockpit into the pretty crowded main section. Everyone who had gone into the forest looked a little worn out, and everyone, including Team TTSS, looked a little shaken.

“How’s Blake?” Rainbow asked quietly.

“She’s hurt,” Jaune said, his voice hoarse. “I’ve done what I can, but I still think she should see a doctor.”

“Secure her on the other stretcher at the back,” Rainbow said. “This might be a bumpy ride before we get home… and Ruby?”

“Her aura broke, but I don’t think she was injured, at least nothing more than bumps and bruises,” Sunset replied. She pursed her lips together. “Thanks for showing up.”

Rainbow smiled thinly. “I never leave my friends hanging,” she said, and turned back to the steering column and her controls. “Now, maybe we can have an easy-”

The alarms blared.

“I need to keep my mouth shut,” Rainbow muttered as she turned for home and gunned the engines to maximum. No, she pushed them past maximum, trusting to that one hundred percent margin of safety – and hey, overloading the Skyray hadn’t caused them to crash just yet – as she pushed the engines beyond what they were supposed to go.

And, you know, they didn’t blow up or anything. Which was good, because it seemed like every nevermore over the forest was converging upon them, following them, descending in front of them, trying to fall on them like they were sparrows and the hawk was out. Rainbow fired every missile she had left, she let every gun blaze away, not trying to kill the grimm but to make them flinch long enough to get out.

She jinked and rolled, dodging the talons that reached for her airship and the feathers like knives that were flung at it from all directions. They burst through the mass of black, leaving the grimm to follow in a great roiling mass as The Bus raced for the cliffs.

The cliffs, and the Atlesian airships beyond.

Rainbow grabbed the microphone. “Resolution, this is Rorari Three-Two; I hope you’re ready for company, because we’ve got lots of it.”

“Copy that, Three-Two. Maintain your present vector precisely. Don’t be alarmed; we’ve got you covered.”

“Understood,” Rainbow said as the smile returned to her face.

For a moment, the Skyray flew straight and true in the direction of Beacon, and the nevermores pursued.

Then the sky was lit up by lasers as the Resolution and its fighter screen opened up at once, red lasers from the cruiser and green from the turrets on the Skydarts streaking out across the blue to pierce the cloud of nevermores. The grimm scattered, flying this way and that as some of their number were vaporised, pierced by the bolts and turned to ash. The Atlesian airships fired again and again, some of their bolts passing so close to The Bus that their glare illuminated the cockpit, but none of them so much as scratching the cyan paintwork on the vessel.

The nevermores withdrew, pursued by yet more lasers, their numbers reducing every moment as the Atlesian fire found its mark again and again.

“Thanks for the save, Resolution.”

“Any time, Rorari Three-Two.”

“Rorari Three-Two, this is Valiant Actual; what’s your status?”

Rainbow swallowed. “Everyone is on board, sir. Blake and Sage are in need of medical attention.”

General Ironwood was quiet for a moment. “How bad is it?”

“I’m not quite sure, sir.”

“Alright, I’ll inform Ozpin,” General Ironwood replied. “Twilight?”

“I’m right here, sir,” Twilight murmured. “I’m… a little shook up, but I’ll be fine.”

“Thank gods for that,” General Ironwood said, a touch of weariness entering his voice. “Good work out there, Dash.”

Rainbow’s chin rose a little higher in spite of itself. “Thank you, sir.”

To Each A Task (New)

To Each a Task

Sunset swung her legs out over the sky as she and Cinder sat on the docking pad, looking out across Vale as the sun descended towards the horizon.

“How’s Ruby?” Cinder asked.

“Fine,” Sunset said. She hesitated for a moment. “Disappointed in herself.”

“For almost dying?”

“For losing,” Sunset explained. “She ought to have been able to take out a bunch of beowolves without breaking a sweat. Or so she believes, anyway.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re not with her,” Cinder murmured.

“Anything that I said to try and make her feel better would seem like a platitude at this point,” Sunset explained. “I think the only one who can really make her feel better is Blake. That’s what upsets her most: it’s not the fact that she couldn’t win; it’s the fact that she was so helpless that Blake had to save her life.”

“Is it a shameful thing to have your life saved by another?” Cinder asked. “I thought that what teams were all about: rah-rah, teamwork, watching one another’s backs, that sort of thing.”

“Could you sound any less sincere about this?” Sunset asked.

Cinder chuckled. “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just that, when it comes to the topic of personal helplessness… I’m afraid that I am inclined to agree with Ruby. She ought to be ashamed of herself.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You won’t repeat that where she can hear you. Or at all, as a matter of fact.”

Cinder stared at her, a slight smirk playing across her face. “Of course not,” she said softly. She bowed her head. “Forgive me.”

Sunset snorted. “We all have bad luck sometimes. There is no disgrace in it.”

“I’m sure that Blake will agree, once she wakes up,” Cinder said airily. “Speaking of which, I’m a little surprised that you’re not with her.”

Sunset pouted. “They wouldn’t let everyone in the room. It’s just Yang and Rainbow Dash.”

Cinder giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “So, does that make me your third choice of person to spend time with, or your second?”

“I’m here with you because I want to be,” Sunset declared. “And because I want to say thank you.”

“I did very little.”

“You came,” Sunset insisted. “That’s enough.”

“I would have liked the chance to save your life,” Cinder said.

“You saved Twilight.”

“I helped,” Cinder corrected. “Don’t overinflate the record of my accomplishments.”

“You came,” Sunset repeated. “You came to aid us. Only Pyrrha can say the same, in this whole school. Well, you two and Rainbow Dash and… Team Tsunami; by Celestia, I owe my life to the Great and Powerful Trixie. Ugh.” She got to her feet. “I might have to throw myself off this docking platform in sheer embarrassment.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Cinder drawled. “The sound of your screaming on the way down would make it very hard to appreciate the view.”

“You think I’d scream as I fell?”

“I think you’d scream the school down, yes,” Cinder said.

“Really?” Sunset asked, and her eyebrows rose as she stepped off the docking platform.

She fell silently, arms spread out, wind pushing at her face and rushing through her hair as she plummeted towards the ground… for all of two seconds before she teleported back onto the docking platform.

“There, you see?” Sunset asked. “Completely silent.”

Cinder glared at her. “Perhaps I should break your aura and then we can try that again.”

Sunset chuckled. “We could, if you like,” she said, with the smug confidence of someone who didn’t use aura to teleport.

“No,” Cinder murmured. “Let’s not; that would be rather tedious.”

“Fine by me,” Sunset said, sitting down again. “I mean, who wants to fight when we have this great view to enjoy, huh?” All of Vale was spread out before them, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, the high towers casting long shadows over the rest of the city, the myriad panes of glass reflecting the light in vibrant flashes, the lights beginning to blink as the light fell.

It was no Canterlot, and it was not a perfect city, but at the same time… it wasn’t half bad.

“Thank you,” Sunset said again.

Cinder leaned backwards, tucking her hands behind her head. “You can make it up to me some other time.”

“I will,” Sunset said. “You can count on it.”

The golden light of the late afternoon spilled through the window into the room in the hospital wing.

Blake’s room.

She was sleeping still, her long black hair spilling out over the pillow in all directions, framing her face like a halo of darkness. She was covered by a white sheet from the neck down, obscuring the bandages in which they had bound her injuries.

Thanks to Jaune, she wouldn’t have any scars, or at least not any really noticeable ones; not that you could have seen most of her scars anyway, but if you could, they still wouldn’t be very noticeable.

Not that it would have been a big deal if you could see them. All that scars did was show that you were brave.

The exercise had been called off, but although there were a lot of people who would have liked to be here for Blake when she woke up, the size of the room and – more importantly – the attitude of the nurse meant that only a couple of people were allowed to stay with her. Rainbow Dash was one of them, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, one leg raised and pressed, sole down, upon the wall.

Yang was the other person here; it was weird… well, no it wasn’t; there were perfectly valid reasons why Rainbow Dash didn’t think of Blake’s team leader as being one of the people closest to her, but it said something about the way things had turned out for Blake lately nonetheless.

Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that Rainbow would have listed Sunset above Yang in terms of people close to Blake, Yang had insisted on being here. And, since Rainbow had refused to go, that meant that Sunset would just have to wait for news about Blake like everyone else.

Sun was also not there, by his own choice instead of by the decree of the nurse; he had told them that his place was with Sage, his teammate. Rainbow couldn’t help but think that Blake would be impressed to hear that when she woke up.

Yang was sat in the only chair in the room, by Blake’s bedside, close enough that she could have reached out and touched her if she wanted to. She didn’t, but she could if she chose.

For the moment, she kept her hands to herself, lying in her lap one on top of the other. She just looked at Blake, her purple eyes soft.

She glanced at Rainbow. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow contradicted, “I do.”

“She’s not your teammate.”

“Not yet, maybe, but she’s still my responsibility.”

“'Not yet'?” Yang repeated. “You’re that confident, huh?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Rainbow said softly.

Yang’s brow furrowed for a moment. “I know,” she said. “You want what’s best for her.”

Rainbow nodded. “That’s right.”

“And you really believe that’s Atlas?” Yang asked. “In spite of…”

“In spite of the racism?” Rainbow suggested.

“You said it, not me,” Yang replied. “I know that it’s Blake’s choice, and I’m not like Sunset looking to stand in her way, but… why? Tell me that, tell me why?”

“Why what? Why Atlas?”

“No,” Yang said. “I can guess why Atlas; it’s because you’re from Atlas, and you think that it’s the greatest place on Remnant, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Rainbow said, “but only because it is.”

“Beacon has Ruby, and Pyrrha, and Sunset; hell, Beacon has me,” Yang declared. “What does Atlas have to compare to that?”

Rainbow thought about that for a moment. “Me,” she said.

Yang smirked. “Who else?”

“Air support, that’s who else.”

Yang snorted. “That was a big help today, wasn’t it?”

“That was Vale’s fault, not ours,” Rainbow replied. “The General would have come in with all guns blazing if your councillor-”

“Don’t call her my councillor; I didn’t vote for her,” Yang said. “A leader should have a strong chin. Her opponent has no chin, and his deputy has several, but I’m still going to vote for them first chance I get; Councillor Aris doesn’t have what it takes.”

“Because she left your sister to die in the forest?” Rainbow asked.

“I mean, that, for sure,” Yang agreed. “But even before that, she might know how to make money, but she doesn’t know how to keep this kingdom safe. She wasn’t able to get a handle on the White Fang, so Ruby and all you guys had to do that; she tried to arrest Blake so that she could get a good headline; I don’t think she’s made a single good call since all of this started. Actually, no, she did send out the huntsmen to protect the villages, I guess. Huh, I wonder if she just got it right for once or if someone pressed her to do the right thing.” She paused. “I don’t get how you can want to be tied down to one place.”

It took Rainbow a moment to work out that they were back to talking about Atlas now. “It depends on the place you’re tied to, I guess. And the people who live there.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Yang murmured. “Easier to travel when you’ve got nobody to tie you down.”

“What about Ruby?”

“If you think Ruby is the settling down type, I’ve got a bridge to sell you,” Yang replied. “I don’t think her feet will let her rest while there are grimm in the world.” Once more, she took pause before she said, “So why Blake? Let’s say that Atlas really is so great and wonderful, why do you want to sweep Blake off her feet and carry her there? Maybe I’m being hard on you, but I don’t think that it’s just for her own good.”

“And what if it was?” Rainbow asked. “What if it’s nothing but the fact that some people gave me a shot at making something of myself, and I’d like to pay that forward by giving Blake a shot?”

“Because the people who gave you a shot didn’t do it out of the goodness of their hearts,” Yang pointed out. “They did it because they wanted something from you.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “You make Twi and the General sound like they’re using me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yang said quickly. “But you know what I meant, don’t you? It’s like that fancy sword that Sunset came back from Mistral with. Pyrrha’s mom didn’t give it to her because they ran out of the room on the mantelpiece or because she was feeling generous that day. She gave Sunset the sword so that she could get something back from Sunset.”

Rainbow frowned. “Am I the sword here? Is Blake a sword?”

“No, I think your wings are probably the sword,” Yang explained. “You’re still you. But ‘the General’ might be Pyrrha’s mom.”

And what would Aska have to say about that? “Do you believe in fate?” Rainbow asked.

Yang blinked. “You mean like destiny?”

“Sure,” Rainbow replied. “I can’t tell the two of them apart.”

Yang nodded. “No,” she said.

“That was certain.”

“Nobody is pulling my strings,” Yang averred confidently. “The only person who decides where I go or what I do is me. And Dad, sometimes, and the teachers when school’s in session. And when I take missions, then I suppose that… wow, I’m really not free at all, am I?”

“We’re too young for freedom,” Rainbow said. “Don’t let it get to you.”

Yang chuckled. “And what about you? You do believe in fate, don’t you, or you wouldn’t have asked.”

Rainbow reached up and scratched at one of her equine ears. “If I didn’t, I don’t know if I could…” She trailed off.

Yang waited for a moment. “You don’t know if you could what?”

“To each of us falls a task,” Rainbow replied. “It might not be a big thing, it might be one of the smallest things, but we’re still put here to do it. It’s our purpose, our… our gift. Something that only we can do, for Remnant. And it all adds up to something amazing, something huge, all the things that only we can do all piling up on top of one another, it’s a thing as big as Atlas. But of course, for some people, the task that falls to them is already pretty huge, like leading our forces against the darkness all around.

“I’m not saying that I know exactly what Blake’s task is yet, but I think… when I think of the things that she could do, I think of some pretty big stuff.”

“In Atlas?”

“Anywhere,” Rainbow replied. “But yes, in Atlas. Maybe. Hopefully. She’s smarter than I am, she’s a better fighter than I am… she’s more deserving to follow in the General’s footsteps, if that’s what she wants.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Blake croaked, her hoarse voice cutting into their conversation like an out of control airship through the front windows of an edgeside cafe. “Apart from anything else, we haven’t actually fought one another, have we?”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “How long have you been awake listening?”

“I just woke up,” Blake replied, speaking slowly and somewhat drowsily. “I take it I’m not dead.”

Yang laughed. “No,” she said. “No, you’re not dead.” She paused. “Thank you, for protecting Ruby.”

Blake glanced at her, a slight smile crossing her face for a moment. “It was no problem,” she said.

“Your injuries might disagree,” Rainbow said.

Blake groaned. “You know what I mean.”

Rainbow nodded. “You did good today,” she said. “You did real good.”

“I almost died,” Blake pointed.

“Some things are worth dying for,” Rainbow declared. “Our friends most of all.”

“Mhm,” Blake murmured. “What happened, down there in the forest?”

“Something went wrong,” Rainbow replied. “A lot more grimm showed up than expected to.”

“Thanks, I would never have guessed that from the fact that I almost died,” Blake grumbled. “I was asking if we knew why?”

“No,” Yang said.

“And we won’t, probably,” Rainbow said.

Blake was silent for a moment. “Nobody can go in to investigate yet because the grimm concentrations are still too high, and by the time the grimm have dispersed, they will have consumed the lures that were drawing them in, because they devour the works of man as well as humans themselves.”

“Probably,” Rainbow agreed. “So if anyone did interfere in the test, chances are that they’ll just walk away.”

“So the rich and powerful get away with it again,” Lightning Dust muttered. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Just another day on Remnant.”

“Quite,” Cinder murmured. “As you say, the wealthy and the powerful will continue to escape justice, while those who are charged with the protection of the world turn a blind eye to their evil… or actively enable it.”

Lightning grunted. “Pity you didn’t bring one of those lures back with you.”

Cinder smirked. “Lightning. Lightning. Now why would I want to do that?”

The response to her question was silence.

Team CLEM sat in their dorm room. Mercury was lying on his back, reading some sort of Atlesian comic book. Emerald sat at the foot of Cinder’s bed, looking up at her. Lightning was doing one-armed push-ups, presumably because she could.

Her vanity was rather amusing, in a slightly pathetic way. But ultimately, her vanity was what made her useful.

Lightning completed another push-up. “She nearly got your friend killed; I figured you might want to do something.”

“We have more important things to concern ourselves with than Sunset Shimmer!” Emerald snapped.

“Do not presume to define for me what is and is not of import to me,” Cinder hissed.

Emerald flinched. “I’m sorry, Cinder, but I thought-”

“That was your mistake,” Cinder declared. “Do as you’re told, but leave the thinking to me.” She smirked at Lightning. “Lightning Dust, go and pay Phoebe a visit for me.”

Lightning stopped doing her push-ups. “You want me to kill her?”

“Lightning!” Cinder gasped theatrically. “Are you suggesting that I would have a fellow student murdered?”

Lightning looked her in the eye. “Wouldn’t you?”

Cinder chuckled. “Oh, yes,” she agreed, her voice a feline purr. “If it served my interests. Phoebe’s death does not. Not yet, at least. However, I do want her warned off; she’s been making too much noise, and I want it stopped. So go, and make sure that she understands that from now on, she’s to keep her hands to herself. Off you go.”

“So, Professor Ozpin, can you shed any additional light on what was going on in the Emerald Forest today?”

Ozpin sat back in his chair. “I’m afraid I’ve very little to add, Lisa; as you are no doubt aware, we at Beacon frequently test our students in practical exercises to test their skills in simulations of the situations that they will encounter in the field. That’s what happened today.”

On the other side of the screen, Lisa Lavender looked at him sceptically. “Surely you’re not pretending that it’s normal for the sky to be filled with grimm during one of your school exercises.”

“No,” Ozpin allowed. “But the grimm are not our pets; they are not predictable creatures. Unforeseen circumstances are inevitable in an environment like the Emerald Forest.”

“So what happened?”

“It was always our intent to draw in grimm to oppose our students,” Ozpin said. “In this instance, some more arrived than we had anticipated.”

“Wasn’t that dangerous?”

“Lisa,” Ozpin said, in the voice of an indulgent uncle. “Everything that the students are training to do here is dangerous.”

“Some might question whether that is a good thing,” Lisa said.

“I’m afraid that I have little time for armchair professors,” Ozpin said, his tone hardening. “We are training huntsmen here, and the life of a huntsman is filled with peril. Yes, some of our practical exercises are dangerous. Sometimes, students do not survive. Each death is a tragedy, and one which we try very hard to avoid, but I will not apologise for the curriculum they died in pursuit of. This is a dangerous life; best they learn that here rather than out there.”

“But what about the intervention by the Atlesian fleet?” Lisa asked. “In addition to the nevermores, many observers saw the guns of an Atlesian warship lighting up the sky. Was that a planned part of the exercise?”

“No, I’m afraid I must credit General Ironwood for that display,” Ozpin said. “The good general is a little less tolerant of risks to his students than I am; he felt it necessary to intervene.”

“You mean that in Atlas, they aren’t as willing to tolerate loss of life amongst the student body?”

“In Atlas, they do many things differently,” Ozpin said. “But let me be clear: no lives were lost today; two students were injured, true, but they are both expected to make complete recoveries. They all acquitted themselves very well in a deliberately trying circumstance. I couldn’t be prouder of them. If only one thing that I say to you takes root with people, Lisa, it is this: that Vale is being guarded by some of the bravest young men and women I have ever known, and that is something that should bring everyone great comfort.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Lisa said, and the picture cut out as she started to turn away.

Her voice continued to echo out of James’ scroll as he and Glynda entered from the elevator. “In other news,” Lisa continued, “the First Councillor’s daughter, Skystar Aris, has been seen with-”

James shut off the broadcast and closed his scroll. “I’m less tolerant of risk to my students?”

“Is it not so?” Ozpin asked mildly.

James stared at him. “You think I coddle them, don’t you?”

“I think that they will not always have air support to call on when they are in desperate need, and it is better they learn that sooner rather than late,” Ozpin replied. “They’re not your children, James.”

“They’re as good as,” James replied, walking towards Ozpin’s desk. “Some of them don’t have anybody else.”

“Nevertheless, they will have to-”

“To what?” James asked. “'Grow up'? This from the man who tolerated a food fight in the cafeteria on the grounds that they were still children.”

Ozpin glanced at his redoubtable lieutenant. “Et tu, Glynda?”

Glynda coughed into one hand. “You do have a somewhat inconsistent attitude, Professor,” she murmured.

“Man is an inconsistent creature,” Ozpin replied. “I am allowed to have two thoughts in my head, though they be the most contrary thoughts that ever were thought. On the one hand, I deplore the fact that this error occurred, and our students were forced into this position; on the other hand, I am, as I told Lisa, intensely proud of them. I am even, perversely, glad that it was Team Sapphire that were engaged in this… debacle. They are one step closer to being ready.”

“So you have chosen then,” Glynda said. “Miss Nikos?”

“I said ‘closer’ to being ready, and I said the team,” Ozpin reminded her. “I will not lie; she has always been my first choice-”

“And what happened in the forest hasn’t changed that?” James asked.

“Miss Shimmer remains fundamentally unsuited to become the Fall Maiden,” Ozpin replied. “Not only on account of her temperament and character – although I must say that would be quite enough; she would be as poor a guardian as Raven would have been – but because we do not know what mixing the magic of two worlds will do.”

“What about Miss Belladonna?” James asked.

Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “You astonish me, James, what about Miss Dash?”

“Rainbow Dash would make a fine guardian for these perilous times,” James said. “But Miss Belladonna-”

“Is too in love with death,” Ozpin interrupted. “That would be bad enough, even were the death she is enchanted with not her own. How is Miss Belladonna, by the way?” he asked Glynda.

“Predicted to make a full recovery,” Glynda said. “If she hadn’t fought as hard as she did, there’s a chance that Ruby might have died before Miss Shimmer could get to her.”

“True, but there is also the report of the incident at Badger’s Drift,” Ozpin replied. “A Maiden cannot throw away her life so recklessly; she must live, for at least a little, but Miss Belladonna seems to have no concern for her own survival whatsoever.”

“Is that why you don’t mind that she might be coming to Atlas?” James asked.

“Could I stop her, if she wished to go?”

“I don’t know,” James said. “You seem to try and keep all the best students for yourself.”

“I would be failing in my duties if I did not,” Ozpin replied. “Nevertheless, regardless of my feelings on Miss Belladonna, I am glad to hear that she will recover. Have you heard from Councillor Aris?”

“Not yet,” James said. “Which surprises me a little.”

“I doubt she wishes to send you home,” Ozpin said. “Perhaps she thinks it better to pretend this never happened rather than bark futilely at you.”

“Maybe,” James muttered. “You understand now, don’t you Oz? Why I came?”

“I thought you came to fight the White Fang, not rescue students from exercises gone wrong,” Glynda said.

“I came because the waters are rising,” James said sharply. “She’s coming for us now.”

“You think this was her work?” Glynda asked.

“You don’t?” James asked.

“Accidents happen,” Glynda replied.

“And the rampage of the White Fang, is that an accident too?” James demanded. “She’s coming for us now.”

“'Coming for us'? No, James, she will not come. She will not come save only to triumph over me when all is won,” Ozpin murmured. “She uses others as her weapons. Weapons which we will confront, as and when they show themselves. Until then… the students have survived a harrowing experience and won another victory. I suggest we take that and be well satisfied with it.”

Phoebe Kommenos stalked through the moonlit streets of Vale, looking for someone to vent her frustrations on.

Of all the rotten luck! They’d survived! Sunset had survived, and all the rest of them as well! Pyrrha had dived off the cliff into the forest after them, and she’d made it out alive as well!

And now everybody was talking about them. The whole school knew that the last exercise had gone horribly, terribly wrong, and yet, those eight students had fought their way out, and weren’t they amazing! Pyrrha Nikos had gone in to rescue her friends, and wasn’t that just what you’d expect from the Champion of Mistral? The Ace of Canterlot had flown her way through nevermore infested skies to extract the students, but what else could you expect from General Ironwood’s star pupil?

It made her sick to her stomach.

She hated them. She hated all of them. Pyrrha, Sunset, Rainbow Dash, the whole damn pack of them.

Why do they keep rising from strength to strength while I languish in the gutter?

Her hands itched. She had restrained herself for long enough. She needed to take her frustrations out on someone. She needed to take the pain that was in her heart and make it visible on someone’s face.

And so, she stalked the alleys in search of a victim.

A garbage can rattled behind her. Phoebe turned around, her chin tilted upwards, her nostrils flaring.

“Who’s there?” she demanded of the darkness.

There was no response.

Phoebe laughed. “Do you think that you can frighten me by hiding and making noises? I am Phoebe Kommenos, warrior of Mistral and student of Atlas Academy; you’d best run along, unless you want me to teach you why you ought to fear my name.”

Still there was no response.

Phoebe snorted in disdain and turned away.

There was a flash of lightning in the corner of her eye. She started to turn back, but her attacker was on her before she ready her weapon.

She was fast and ferocious, a freak of a faunus whose equine tail swished from side to side as her fists pounded Phoebe from all directions. Lightning surged up and down her body, and as she slammed Phoebe up against the wall, that lightning rippled across Phoebe’s skin, ripping at her aura as she screamed in pain.

Phoebe cried out as she was thrown to the ground; she winced as she was kicked in the stomach, then picked up and slammed into the pavement again as she tried to crawl away. She felt another shock of lightning tear over her, the crackling of the lightning countering her cry of pain before she was grabbed by the throat with one hand.

“Please!” Phoebe cried as she looked helplessly into the burning gamboge eyes of the muscular faunus. “Please, don’t kill me!”

The faunus growled. “We know what you did.”

Phoebe’s whole body trembled. “What I did?”

“In the forest,” the faunus said. “The way you sabotaged the test, we know. We have the lures to prove it.”

Phoebe gasped. Dying was bad enough, but disgrace would be even worse. If she got expelled from Atlas, she’d have to limp home and be a laughingstock back home in Mistral. It wasn’t like she had Turnus’ money and name to shield her from the consequences. They’d lord it over her in the arena for the rest of her days, a pathetic failure who couldn’t even graduate from an academy.

“What do you want from me?” she cried. “I have money, I can pay-“

“We don’t want money,” the faunus grunted. “Just leave Team Sapphire alone. No more games, no more messing around. You’re done. Understand?”

“Team Sapphire?” Phoebe murmured. “Did they put you up to this?”

“Understand?!” the faunus yelled, and lightning wreathed her free hand as she raised it to strike.

“Yes!” Phoebe yelped. “Yes, yes, I understand! They… they will get no more trouble from me.”

She hated having to say those words. She hated meaning them. She hated it as she hated them. She would never stop wishing for their deaths. But in the face of this monster, in the face of potential ruin and deaths real and social, she didn’t dare say anything else.

She didn’t dare mean anything else.

She had been defeated.

Just like she always was.

Author's Note

Following this chapter, the rewrite chapters will be going on hiatus for a couple of weeks for much the same reason as the future chapters are now only once every fortnight: the next chapters have taken me a long time to write and if I keep releasing them without interruption I will run out. This seems like the right place to put the break as I designed the latest few chapters to have a mid-season finale feel to them, with a lot of action and different characters getting involved. As a result it also works as a good place for a break - ~~so see you in October!~~ no, it's just for a couple of weeks, I promise.

Backdoor Pilot (New)

Backdoor Pilot

The moon was out, but Adam kept the shadows as he approached the dark and unlit house, moving with a grace more feline than bovine as he moved silently towards the back door.

He pulled back the screen, and the door itself opened at his slightest touch, admitting him into a lightless kitchen. Adam’s one good eye was not so adept in the dark as… as Blake’s had been, but nevertheless, he was able to make out the outline of the room: the oven, the surfaces, the coffee maker and the toaster, the chairs surrounding the small table.

He could make out the figures coming in the doorway at the other end of the room.

“You came alone?” The voice that spoke was deep and guttural.

Adam’s lips curled into a sneer. “Unlike you, I don’t need bodyguards,” he said, gesturing to the two warriors who flanked and loomed over the man who stood between them.

Adam didn’t know his real name. He went by the moniker of The Purifier and hid the name he had born with as completely as he hid his face.

“Not everyone can be so great a warrior as you,” The Purifier declared unapologetically.

Adam was in no mood for flattery, certainly not from someone who had summoned him like a churl. Nevertheless, he kept his temper in check; The Purifier enjoyed Sienna Khan’s favour and was held in high esteem by her for his skill with explosives. For that reason alone, it would not do to kill him and invite the wrath of the High Leader.

Not until he was ready to move against the High Leader also. But that would require the prestige of a victory that he had not yet won. And so he kept his tone courteous as he said, “I’m surprised to see you here, brother; I thought you were lying low in Menagerie after that indulgence with the Atlesian actress.”

“'Indulgence'?” The Purifier repeated. “Since when does Adam Taurus disdain killing humans as an indulgence?”

“All humans deserve death,” Adam declared. “But since we cannot kill them all at once, we must choose our targets carefully.”

“Is that what you have been doing, here in Vale?” The Purifier asked. “Choosing your targets carefully?”

“I am on the verge of such a victory as will make Fort Castle pale by comparison!” Adam declared, taking a step forward and sweeping out his hand to encompass the whole world in its expanse. “Everything that I have done has been a step towards that end.”

“Everything that you have done has been at the beck and call of a human, if what we hear in Menagerie be true,” The Purifier replied. “The High Leader is… perturbed.”

Adam bared his teeth, unable to keep a low growl from escaping his lips. Cowards! He cursed those old men, the so-called veterans of the struggle, those who had lingered on from Ghira Belladonna’s day and from the youth of Sienna Khan. Tired old men with no fire in their bellies, full of caution and bereft of hope or fire or initiative. They had always hated his plans and the alliance that he had made; they had always been unable to see. He had suspected that one of them had betrayed him – that was why he’d killed them all – but it seemed that one of them had sent a message to Menagerie before they died.

Worse than useless. Faunus fit to be slaves. Little wonder the struggle was so futile while it was waged by such as them.

“I am no one’s hound, to come when called,” Adam declared.

“Then you do not work for a human?”

“I work with humans,” Adam said. “Their goals and ours run alongside one another. We both desire the transformation of the world and the destruction of the societies that hold our people captive.”

“You speak more like a prophet than a warrior.”

“And what would you know of war, whose skills are a slave to your petty grudges?” Adam demanded. “Perhaps I am a prophet, for I have seen the future, and it belongs to us, if only we have the courage to reach out and take it!”

“This is worse than the High Leader feared,” The Purifier cried. “She sent me here just in time.”

“I have no need of another bomb maker,” Adam declared. “I have more than enough explosive skills within the chapter to accomplish what I need.”

“I am not here to make bombs for you and your delusions,” The Purifier said. “The High Leader has sent me here to assume command of the Vale Chapter.”

Behind his mask, Adam’s eyes – burned and healthy alike – widened. “You mean to depose me? With my great work incomplete?”

“A good thing too, else I would have come too late,” The Purifier said. “Your vaulting ambitions have led this chapter from one defeat to the next.”

“I have stolen a Schnee’s ransom in dust from under the noses of this kingdom’s defenders!”

“And lost good and experienced fighters doing so, and brought the might of Atlas overhead!” The Purifier snarled. “But I will make good use of the dust, I promise you.”

“How?” Adam demanded. “By cowering in fear? Or will you get back into your old habits and waste a bomb upon the Amity Princess?”

“I will ensure that those who have opposed and defied the White Fang are seen to pay for their transgressions: the Mistral princess and the Atlesians who soar so high… and Blake too.”

Adam snorted. “Now who is defying the High Leader?”

“Her affection for the girl is a weakness in her, as it is in you.”

“I feel no affection now,” Adam retorted. “I feel only… hatred.”

“So you say,” the Purifier murmured. “Will you submit to me and to the authority of the High Leader?”

Adam stood silent for a moment, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He would not suffer this. He would not meekly endure to be put aside. He was not a pet for Sienna Khan to cherish one day and then grow bored with the next. He was Adam Taurus, the Sword of the Faunus, and he was on the cusp of something that would shake the kingdoms of the world. He would not step aside now. He wanted nothing more than to kill the Purifier and his men, to draw Wilt and hack them into pieces. But he had a better idea, an idea that would not necessitate him shedding the blood of brothers of the White Fang, nor risk that his followers might prefer to follow the High Leader’s commands instead of his own, nor would he even have to admit weakness in front of his human allies by begging for their aid.

No, he had an idea, an excellent idea. An idea that would put his enemies to work on his behalf and blind them to the true dangers that confronted them.

At length, he smiled. “Of course I will obey,” he said and dropped to one knee before the other man. “What would you have of me?”

“Ah, Glynda,” Ozpin said as the deputy headmistress stepped lightly out of the elevator, her heels clicking upon the floor in counterpoint to the heavy grinding of the gears above. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, Professor,” Glynda replied, her tone cool and professional. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about a request that I’ve recently received from Lieutenant Martinez of the VPD’s Flying Squad,” Ozpin said. “She’s asking for a student team to be assigned to shadow her unit.”

Glynda’s eyebrows rose. “'Shadow'? For how long?”

“Indeterminate, at this stage,” Ozpin replied.

Glynda pursed her lips together. “I understand that training missions are an important part of the curriculum, but that doesn’t mean letting four students spend more time with the police than they do in class without any sort of end date on when they’ll be back.”

“Indeed, a fact I shall make clear to Lieutenant Martinez when I respond,” Ozpin said, nodding his head. “Nevertheless, within certain conditions – making the basis of the shadowing incidental, on a case by case basis perhaps – I am minded to accept her request and assign her some students.”

Glynda’s face was disfigured by a frown. “I’m not sure that I agree with you, Professor.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, it was only a few years ago that the Flying Squad was investigated by Internal Affairs,” Glynda reminded him. “If I recall, there were allegations that they were rather too close to the criminals they were supposed to be pursuing.”

“You recall correctly,” Ozpin said, a slight trace of a sigh entering his voice. “But I believe the investigation is closed by now, and just in case, I contacted one or two senior officers about the character of Lieutenant Martinez. Like you, I wouldn’t want any of our students to be exposed to bad influences.”

“And what did you hear?”

“That twenty years ago, she would have been the perfect police officer, but now, she’s a relic unlikely to rise beyond her current rank,” Ozpin explained.

“What was that you were saying about bad influences, professor?”

“Society marches on, of course, Glynda,” Ozpin declared, “but for myself, I am not without a certain fondness for old ways, as I hope you can understand. If we were to turn our backs completely on tradition and embrace the new and the modish, then I would have to wind up this school and give over our protection wholly to James and his robots.”

“I have a feeling he would be a little offended to hear you say that,” Glynda murmured.

“Yes, I imagine he would,” Ozpin admitted. “And he would have a right to be. Nevertheless, my point stands.”

“Some things are lost when the old is thrown out,” Glynda accepted, “but some things are gained, and some things, frankly, deserve to be cast aside.”

“True enough,” Ozpin conceded. “But… leaving aside our concerns over the content of the lieutenant’s character, I can hardly refuse to assist the police when they request it, and it may be that they require it, quite seriously.”

“That is unfortunately true,” Glynda murmured. “Very well. I just hope they don’t pick up the wrong ideas.”

Ozpin chuckled. “If they do, I can think of no one better to guide them down the right path than you, Glynda.”

“One of these days, Professor, flattery is not going to help you persuade me to take on an even greater workload,” Glynda said sharply.

“Is that day today?” Ozpin asked, a hint of a smile playing across his features.

Glynda glared down at him from over the top of her spectacles. “No,” she muttered.

“Speaking of extra workload – albeit one that you took on entirely of your own volition – how are Miss Nikos and Miss Xiao Long getting on?”

“Neither of them has room for great leaps of improvement, but I think they are both benefiting incrementally from the challenge,” Glynda replied. “Miss Dash has visited me three times, trying to gain admittance for herself and Miss Polendina.”

“You have refused?”

“Miss Dash doesn’t fight; she brawls,” Glynda sniffed. “I’m not sure what James has been teaching her, but I don’t think there is anything she could learn from me.”

“Is there anything that Miss Nikos or Miss Xiao Long could learn from fighting someone with a, shall we say, unclean fighting style?” Ozpin asked.

“If I admit too many students, then it becomes simply an extra combat class,” Glynda replied. “Are you asking me to consider this?”

“James believes that Miss Dash has promise, as does Miss Polendina in a different way,” Ozpin murmured. “If they are to step into the circle, then… any advantage you can give them would be to the good.”

Glynda was silent for a moment. “I will think about it.”

“That is all that I ask,” Ozpin replied.

“Although, frankly, I would rather admit Miss Belladonna, now that she is out of the hospital.”

“Yes, she is very impressive, isn’t she?” Ozpin asked. “More impressive than I could have imagined when she was first admitted. Flawed, of course, but impressive all the same.”

“She is too good for Atlas,” Glynda said flatly. “They don’t deserve her in the north.”

“Now who is insulting James, Glynda?” Ozpin chuckled. “And when was the last time that anyone got what they truly deserved?” He paused for a moment. “I was considering Team Sapphire for this police assignment. What do you think?”

“I think that it is still too much, too soon,” Glynda told him. “By the end of semester, when all teams take missions, then yes, grant Team Sapphire another, but before that? When other teams are still waiting for their first opportunity? It will be noticed, especially an assignment like this one. You know how prestigious police missions seem to the students.”

Indeed, the allure of a badge was considerable. “They are the best team in their year,” Ozpin pointed out.

“But not the only team,” Glynda replied. “You still haven’t assigned a field mission to Team Wisteria.”

Ozpin paused for a moment. “Do you think they’re capable of it?”

“I have seen a change in Miss Schnee lately,” Glynda said. “I would not have said so before, but now? Yes, I think they are capable. More than that, I think they’re ready.”

Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Perhaps it would be better to hold off on Team Sapphire in case a… sensitive assignment presents itself,” he murmured. “Very well. I hope that you’re right about this, Glynda.”

“So do I,” Glynda murmured in response.

“Hey, Sun,” Blake said, as she sat down at one of the tables in the library. “How’s Sage?”

“He’s doing a lot better,” Sun replied, as he sat down opposite her at the table. “What about you? How are you doing?”

Blake hesitated for a moment. With her right hand, she gripped her left sleeve; although she couldn’t feel the marks of her injuries beneath the cloth wound around her arm, nevertheless, she knew that they were there. She would probably never not be aware of the fact. However, the pain was almost gone by now, she could move as freely as she had before without so much as a twinge of aching irritation.

“I’m… better,” she said.

“Great!” Sun cried, a bright smile illuminating his whole face. “It’s just that I was hoping, if you were better, that you might be better enough to want to come out-”

“I… I can’t,” Blake murmured, her tone apologetic even as she cut Sun off. “I’d like to, but I… I’m working on something at the moment. Something… with the Atlesians.”

Sun, to his credit, didn’t seem put out to hear that. “Anything that I can help with?”

“I’m afraid not,” Blake said. “It’s all very… need to know.”

“Not allowed to talk about it either, then, huh?”

“No,” Blake confirmed. “I’ve told you all I-

“Blake?!” Tukson cried, as he ran across the library towards her, his voice frantic and his expression aghast, with eyes wide and an open mouth. “Blake!”

“Tukson?” Blake replied, getting to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got word from someone in the White Fang,” Tukson began.

“I thought all of your contacts were dead?” Blake asked.

“So did I, but apparently, I still have a couple of friends left whom Adam hasn’t gotten to yet,” Tukson told her. “And one of them just got in touch.”

“I take it that it isn’t good news,” Blake murmured.

Tukson shook his head. “It’s not good news at all, Blake; The Purifier’s in town.”

Weiss wasn’t entirely sure why she had been called up to the headmaster’s office, but it had to be better than the last time that she’d been here.

Of course, it didn’t have to, by any rational way of looking at it, but she hoped very much that this was the case.

Not least because she’d been trying hard to do better than she had previously, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she found out that it was all for nought and, no, she really wasn’t doing any better than before.

She stepped out of the elevator, back straight and chin up, no sign of her worries or misgivings visible upon her face as she advanced towards the headmaster’s desk. She held her hands straight by her sides, brushing lightly against the sash she wore around her waist. The gears of the clock cast their intermittent shadows over her as she walked forward.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” she asked, her voice firm and even.

Professor Ozpin looked at her, a genial smile upon his face. “Yes, Miss Schnee, I did, and there’s no need to worry; this isn’t that sort of meeting.”

“I wasn’t worried, Professor.”

“If you insist, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin replied, his tone mildly amused. Weiss wondered how he knew; her expression, posture, and tone had all been perfect. She was a Schnee; she shouldn’t be that easy to read!

She cleared her throat. “What is this regarding, Professor?”

“How would you and your team like a training mission, Miss Schnee?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Given how easily Professor Ozpin had read her already, it was probably pointless of Weiss to try and keep the surprise off her face, but she did it anyway out of sheer habit. It was the same with the elation that she felt. Finally! Team WWSR was getting a mission! Although it had not been said aloud either by Professor Ozpin or, indeed, any other members of the faculty, it had not escaped the student body that assignment of a training mission served as a measure of Professor Ozpin’s trust – or lack thereof – in a particular team. Teams YRDN – as it had been at the time – and SAPR, the gold star teams, had been given missions very early on in the semester, a fact which had given an official imprimatur to what the students themselves already knew: that they were the teams to beat, the teams which were set above the rest, the elite of Beacon. Other missions for other teams had dribbled in, some of them more challenging than others, but there had been none for Team WWSR or for Team BLBL, and that, too, had confirmed what everyone already knew: they were the problem teams, the screw-ups, the bottom of the pile.

Weiss had hated that, but now… now it seemed that her efforts, and the efforts of her teammates, had begun to bear fruit because they were being offered a mission!

Only two things prevented her from accepting on the spot, the first being how unprofessional it might look to accept a mission without knowing what it was. The other was that it was not only the fact of a mission, but the nature of it that indicated the faculty’s trust in a team: the greater the trust, the more challenging the mission. She was, she could confess to herself, curious as to how trusted the new Team WWSR was.

“May I enquire as to the nature of the mission, Professor?” Weiss asked.

“You will be seconded to the Flying Squad of the VPD, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin said. “To provide back up to the detectives there, should they require it.”

“I see,” Weiss said softly. Service with the police was not unheard of when it came to training missions, and she had learned from the older students that it was considered a choice assignment to be given, although she confessed that she did not understand why. Still, if it was an honour to be offered, it was an honour she would gladly accept, even if she was left with questions. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Flying Squad.”

“Serious and organised crime, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin explained. “So-called because they operate throughout the city of Vale without being restricted by district boundaries.”

“I see,” Weiss murmured. “And how long will this mission last, Professor?”

“This will be a slightly unusual mission, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin explained. “You will work with the police when your supervisor, one Lieutenant Martinez, requests it, and in between times, you will continue your studies here at school. I should warn you that this work may take you out to class for substantial periods at a time; you must be prepared to catch up with any missing work.”

“Of course, Professor, I’m perfectly willing,” Weiss declared. “And so are my teammates.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Schnee,” Professor Ozpin said. “Do you need to discuss this with your teammates?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Professor; I think I know what they’ll say,” Weiss said. They all, after all, wanted to be better; they had all agreed to work to be better, and this was a significant part of that, proof that their efforts up to now had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. “I accept, and I promise we won’t let you down.”

The lift was large enough for all four members of Team WWSR to stand side by side and even somewhat spaced out as it ground downwards towards the depths of the VPD facility.

Weiss had to admit, she’d never heard of an underground police station before, but she supposed that there must be a good reason for it. She imagined it was very secure against attack… although if that was a consideration, then that itself said something about the VPD, or at least the Flying Squad.

The details of their assignment had mandated casual dress, which meant that Flash had donned a pair of blue jeans and an unkept white t-shirt with a ragged collar and his symbol of the yellow lightning bolt on blue, with a black jacket trimmed with red and white worn over the top; while Cardin was wearing a grey turtleneck and brown corduroy trousers, with a brown jacket. Russel had discarded his vambraces and shoulder pauldron. Weiss was wearing her habitual huntress attire, because ‘casual’ didn’t have to mean common now, did it?

As they descended underground, Weiss felt as though the weight of the earth above them was pressing down upon her with all the weight of her own expectations, threatening to crush her beneath the enormity of the many tons of them. This was her big chance. This was their big chance. This might be their only chance, if they did not take it – if they fumbled it, what was worse – how long would they have to wait to get another? Would they ever?

Certainly, it was hard to see their reputations recovering from it. They had to get this right. It was their only shot.

And they would have to work together to make the most of it.

“Forgive me if this sounds superfluous,” she said, “but I want to make sure that we’re all united in our desire to make a success of this, the first mission that we have been offered.”

“We know that if we screw up, we’re not likely to be offered another,” Cardin muttered.

“That is true,” Weiss said. “I’m also not sure it’s enough. Not enough to want to not fail, we have to want to succeed as well. This is a great opportunity for all of us to prove our worth. We may not have been able to capture Roman Torchwick, but we will have an opportunity to apprehend serious fugitives and put our names on the map at Beacon where they belong. I hope we’re all willing to work hard to make that happen.”

“Don’t worry,” Flash assured her. “We all want this to go well as much as you do.” He paused. “Maybe not quite as much, but we’re all in on this.”

“I’m just amazed that I’m going into a police station voluntarily,” Russell said. “What would the folks back home say if they could see me now, going to work for the fuzz?”

Weiss chuckled, as did Flash and Cardin, the tension in the elevator – the tension that Weiss, at least, had been feeling – dissipating like a dead beowolf turning to smoke and ashes.

“Thank you,” she said. “All of you. Police assignments are highly sought after; I’m sure that we wouldn’t have been trusted by Professor Ozpin like this if it weren’t for the improvement that you’ve all demonstrated recently. Now we just have to try and build off that.”

The elevator ground to a halt, and the yellow door rose above them, disappearing from view to reveal a spacious area, well-lit by lights hanging from the grated ceiling, interrupted by a few desks with computers set up, leading to a set of large screens taking up most of the rear wall. A pair of staircases led upwards to places that could not, from the elevator, be seen, while doors in the side and rear walls promised further locations within. Uniformed officers in tactical gear with rifles and submachine guns guarded the only way down into the room – although none of them troubled Team WWSR, presumably because the officers up top had already verified their ID and issued them the badges they wore on lanyards around their necks – while all of the people at the desks or moving between them were in plain clothes of varying degrees of quality and various states of dishevelment.

As Team WWSR stepped out of the elevator, Weiss’ attention was drawn at once to the horse faunus woman, her tail emerging out of the pants of her dark pantsuit, who was standing not too far away arguing with a slightly swarthy man with a red kerchief around his neck.

“An illegal card game, are you kidding me?”

“I was only-”

“It’s illegal!” the faunus woman snapped. “We’re officers of the law! We may bend the rules sometimes, but we don’t pee all over them just to make money! Any more of this crap, and I’ll turn you in to IA myself, understand?”

The man, though he was taller than she was and broader in the shoulders too, took a step back. “Sure thing, El-Tee. I got it.”

“Good,” the woman – El-Tee – growled. “Now get out of my sight.”

He scurried off, while she remained in place for a moment that lasted right up until she noticed the four young huntsmen of Team WWSR. She turned to face them, making a visible attempt to banish the black fury from off her face. “Great,” she said, the forced enthusiasm clashing against the sincere weariness in her voice. “You must be the students.”

Weiss curtsied. “Team Wisteria of Beacon Academy at your service, ma’am.”

“Okay, first of all, don’t call me 'ma’am.' I’m old, but I’m not that old yet. My name is Lieutenant DJ Martinez of the VPD, and you can call me Lieutenant or El-Tee until I give you permission to call me something else.” The Lieutenant was pale, with hooded eyes and ducky lips that seemed set in a sort of permanent pout; her hair was long and light brown, matching the tail that descended towards the floor. “Second, cut out all of that fancy frou frou stuff; we don’t do that here. This isn’t the military, this isn’t a fancy party, so no salutes, no… whatever that was; just do as you're told quickly and efficiently, and we’ll get on great, understand?”

“Perfectly, Lieutenant,” Weiss replied.

“Awesome,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “In that case, and without further ado, welcome to the Basement. This is Flying Squad headquarters.” She turned around and began to walk towards the opposite wall, leaving the students to follow behind her. “Do you know what it is we do here?”

“Organised crime?” Flash ventured.

“We fight against the worst scum in Vale, and we stand between them and ordinary, law-abiding citizens,” Lieutenant Martinez declared. “Everybody listen up: these are the huntsmen that Beacon has provided us. Give everybody your names so that they know what to yell when they need you.”

“Weiss Schnee, the leader of Team Wisteria.”

“Cardin Winchester.”

“Flash Sentry.”

“Russel Thrush.”

“Awesome,” Lieutenant Martinez repeated. “Everyone else will introduce themselves to you when they need something. You’ll get a tour of the place some other time, but right now, we have work to do.” She looked up at the blank screens attached to the rear wall. “Assuming that we can actually bring anything up,” she added, gesturing to an empty desk with a particularly complex computer set-up. “Where the hell is Koren?”

“He called in sick, boss,” replied a young detective, barely any older than Weiss and the other students, with long, light brown hair reaching down to just past his shoulders.

“Great,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered, her tail flicking irritably to the right. “Just great. Does anybody here know how to work a computer?”

Russel raised his hand tremulously. “Uh, I know a little bit?”

Lieutenant Martinez looked at him with only vague incredulity. “Really? Well, be my guest.”

Russel scampered across the Basement to stand in front of the desk and the computer perched upon it. “Um, what is it that you want me to do?”

“I want you to take the scroll plugged into your terminal and put the call it's plugged into up onto the board,” Lieutenant Martinez, gesturing up at the big screens.

“Is that all?” Russel asked incredulously.

The lieutenant’s only response to that was a glare that would have melted the glaciers of northernmost Solitas. Russel ducked, swallowing. “I mean, um, that, uh, that’s a very complicated process; I’m not surprised that it gave you some trouble, uh, give me one, second.”

He started tapping at the keyboard, hiding his face behind the dual monitors as he did so, until the screens flashed up above them with the face of Blake Belladonna.

“Blake?” Weiss said.

Blake blinked. “Weiss? What are you-?”

“Your school friends are here to help me out with some police work,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Miss Belladonna, meanwhile, is here because she never was a White Fang scumbag after all but a pure as snow Atlesian patriot with a lot of useful info from her days undercover.” She gave a very strained smile. “Ain’t that right?”

Blake did not immediately respond. Weiss could hardly blame her. In her position, she would have struggled to respond herself.

She glanced at Cardin, who looked as if he wished to be a little smaller and less noticeable than he was. Weiss could hardly blame him in the circumstances, all things considered.

Blake seemed to have decided to deal with all of the awkwardness by ploughing on as though it did not exist. She cleared her throat. “I have received word from a source in the White Fang that a skilled bombmaker had arrived in Vale. We call him The Purifier.”

“Does he have a real name?” Lieutenant Martinez demanded. “A name we can actually look for?”

“I’m afraid that I don’t know it,” Blake admitted. “Or what he looks like.”

“If you don’t know his name or his face, then how do you know that he’s even real?” Cardin demanded.

“Because someone blew up the airship carrying Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom home from Argus, and someone gutted the Atlesian military facility at Crystal City-”

“Crystal City?” Flash repeated. “Did you say Crystal City? That was him? That guy is here in Vale now?”

Lieutenant Martinez whirled around, her mouth opening but no words emerged, at least not for a few moments, and when they did come, her tone was soft. “This mean something to you, kid?”

Flash clenched his jaw. “My… my father,” he said, as though he had to force the words out. “He was… one of those killed in the Crystal City bombing.”

“Flash,” Weiss murmured, placing one hand upon his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lieutenant Martinez said quietly. “Really, that… no kid deserves to grow up without their parents.” Her voice began to rise and assumed a more professional tone as she said, “Unfortunately, it’s beginning to look like those incidents are about the only things we know about our suspect.”

“Are we sure that there is a suspect?” Cardin asked.

“I didn’t imagine the bomb that killed my father,” Flash snapped.

“I never said you did, but that doesn’t mean that both bombs were the work of some bogeyman with no name-”

“Even if the White Fang have just sent an ordinary bomb maker, isn’t that bad enough?” Blake demanded. “I didn’t go to the Atlesians to tell them a ghost story, and that’s not why they told me to pass this on to you; it’s because I’m worried that people are going to die.”

“If I didn’t get that, I wouldn’t be listening to you,” Lieutenant Martinez reassured her. “Is there anything, anything at all, that you can tell us about this guy?”

Blake thought for a moment. “Not a lot is known about The Purifier, but the rumours say that he used to work for the SDC, in one of the dust refineries. Apparently, that’s where he learned how to manipulate dust. Also apparently, there was some kind of accident that left him injured… and seeking revenge.”

“What was that about no ghost stories?” Cardin muttered.

“I’d like to say that you’ve been helpful, but… you haven’t,” Lieutenant Martinez said to Blake. “Still, thanks for the tip. We’ll take it from here.” She gestured for Russel to cut off the call, which he did, before she turned to face the huntsmen. “So, there we have it: our target is The Purifier. We don’t know his name, we don’t know what he looks like, we don’t even know if he really exists, but we do know that the White Fang is sitting on top of a hell of a lot of dust, and if they have brought a bomb maker to my city, then we are going to find him, and we are going to bring him in, dead or alive, because no more children are going to grow up without their parents because of this bastard. Not on my watch. Understand?”

“We’ll do whatever you ask,” Flash declared. “Whatever it takes.”

“If he really did work for the SDC, then we could start by checking the company personnel records,” Weiss suggested. “Maybe if we cross-reference known refinery accidents against employees leaving the company, we can narrow down a list of possible suspects.”

“If we had the personnel records; the SDC doesn’t give up that stuff without a fight,” Lieutenant Martinez argued. “We’d need to get the consulate in Atlas to approach a judge to give us a court order for-”

“I can get hold of them,” Weiss declared. “Today. Right now.”

“Really? I know you’re the boss’s daughter, but-”

“Really,” Weiss confirmed. “I guarantee it.”

Lieutenant Martinez nodded. “Okay. You do that. You, Russel, help her go through the records. You boys, come with me.” She began to stride towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” Cardin asked.

“To do some old school police work,” Lieutenant Martinez replied.

Cardin was grateful that the faunus cop for which he had found himself working hadn't yet recognised him as the incredible racist who had been caught on tape supporting the genocide of all faunus, but he wasn't inclined to push his luck further than he had to, and so he allowed Flash to get into the front passenger seat of the black SUV while he got in the back.

The lieutenant was a faunus. He took a degree of comfort from the fact that this didn't upset him. It surprised him, whatever that meant for good or ill, but it didn't offend his sensibilities. She was a faunus, yes, but she also seemed like a decent person; she'd been quick enough to express her sympathies to Flash when she found out about his connection to this, and she wanted to stop the White Fang with no apologies for them or suggestions that they might have a point. She was…

Cardin would have said that she was one of the good ones, except… except looking at it, he was having a hard time thinking of nearly as many bad ones as good ones. Blake Belladonna and Sunset Shimmer were the only two who really came to mind as 'the bad ones,' and he was not so lacking in self-awareness not to realise that he had provoked Sunset more than a little and that Blake was at that very moment acting as an informant for them. Against that, there were Silverstream, Terramar... their father was a pretty decent guy as well, and an officer in the Defence Force to boot; Velvet Scarlatina had put up with more from Cardin than he had a right to expect, and now the lieutenant too.

There's still the White Fang.

And there are still all the faunus who aren't in the White Fang.

The lieutenant's brown eyes were reflected in the rear-view mirror as she looked at him. "So, you're the racists, huh?"

Neither Cardin nor Flash said anything. So she had known, after all.

"That's right," Lieutenant Martinez said. "I recognised your names. So if taking orders from a faunus is going to be a problem, you can go back to Beacon-"

"No!" Cardin cried quickly, before Flash could say anything. Screwing up this mission – their first chance to really make their mark – would be bad enough, but getting kicked to the curb before the mission had even started would be even worse! Team WWSR would be the laughing stock of the whole school, and it would be all his fault. He would have let all of his teammates down, and he didn't want that after they had just started to come together. "It won't be a problem," he assured her.

"Really?" Lieutenant Martinez said. "Because on that tape, it sounded like you want me dead."

Cardin winced. "That… what I said… it doesn't reflect what I really think. It's complicated, but-"

"I don't think it's that complicated," Lieutenant Martinez cut him off. "In fact, let me tell you what I think. I think that Blake Belladonna never was any Atlesian agent; I think she was White Fang, plain and simple. I think you knew that, and you didn't like it, so you and your lady friend decided to run your mouths hoping to provoke a reaction out of her. Only you came out of it looking worse than she did."

Cardin frowned. "How did you-?"

"I've been a cop for twenty years; I can smell bull from right across the city," Lieutenant Martinez interrupted. "And I've been involved in enough undercover operations to know that, sometimes, you say something you don't mean." She paused. "I also know that you were a colossal idiot."

Cardin bowed his head. "I know," he muttered.

"I get it," Lieutenant Martinez said. "I could name more than a dozen guys in this city who I know are guilty as sin, but I also know that I've got nothing on 'em, and I'm not going to get anything on them by walking into their houses trying to goad them into hitting me."

"So what do you do?" Flash asked.

"I keep my eyes on them, and I wait for them to make a mistake," Lieutenant Martinez said. She glanced at Flash. "And what about you? You hate the people who killed your father?"

"The faunus didn't kill my father," Flash said softly.

Lieutenant Martinez took a moment to reply. "Okay," she murmured. "Okay," she repeated, louder and more firmly. "I'm going to trust you, all of you, but if you do try and kill me… don't try to kill me; it won't end well for you."

Cardin snorted. "You've got nothing to worry about with us."

"Lieutenant," Flash said tentatively. "Why are you taking the two of us with you and not your partner or any other detective?"

Lieutenant Martinez tightened her grip on the steering wheel of the car. "Do you know where they're holding Roman Torchwick?"

"On board the Atlesian flagship," Cardin replied.

"Right. Exactly. The Atlesians are holding him aboard their ship because the last time the VPD had him in custody, he got out again within the next hour. And the time after that, he got into a fight with a couple of Beacon students, and they heard him talking about dirty cops." Lieutenant Martinez frowned. "This squad… let me tell you something about the Flying Squad: we're not huntsmen, but we fight monsters, except the monsters we fight aren't so obvious as the ones that you kids are training to go up against. They wear human faces, and they hide in the shadows, which means that we have to live in the shadows right alongside them. You won't find any knights in shining armour here. We rely on human sources of intelligence; you know what that means?"

"Informants," Flash said.

"Exactly, we rely on people willing to talk to us, and yes, they are often criminals. We let things slide from the small fry in exchange for intel to help us land the big fish. It's a line… one that not all cops manage to stay on. If Torchwick really has bought cops, then I can't guarantee that some of the cops he's bought aren't down in the Basement. I have one rookie down there I trust absolutely. And I've got you." She smirked. "Worried?"

"Determined," Flash said. "We won't let you down, lieutenant."

"Damn straight you won't," said Lieutenant Martinez as she started to reverse out of the parking lot.

Cardin hastily fastened his seat belt. "So, where are we going?"

"It takes more than dust to make a bomb," Lieutenant Martinez explained. "Sure, you can make an explosion with just dust, but that's not the kind of thing you bring in a bomb maker for. You need other elements to make an actual bomb, at least a good one. I don't know where you'd come by that stuff, but I know a guy who might."

She drove them to a parking lot about an hour’s drive across the city from the Basement and then led them on foot a block or so to a seedy-looking pawn shop in a street otherwise taken up with betting shops, off-licences, and 24-hour bars. The sign above the store was so dirty that Cardin couldn’t make out what it actually said, but from the confident way that Lieutenant Martinez walked in, it seemed like there was no doubt this was the place she was looking for.

“Do you have any idea how this place is going to help us catch a master bomber?” Cardin whispered to Flash as they trailed after the detective.

“Not a clue,” Flash muttered. “I just hope we’re not wasting our time.”

“Pay attention, and you’ll find out how this is going to help,” Lieutenant Martinez lectured. She looked at them. “I have a tail instead of ears, but that doesn’t make me deaf.”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Flash said. “I just-”

“Want to catch the bastard who killed your old man, I get it,” Lieutenant Martinez replied. “But I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive, and I know what I’m doing. So trust me, okay.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’m sorry.”

“Now when we get in there,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Keep your mouths shut and your eyes and ears open, okay? This is how we do things in the Squad.”

She turned and led the way inside the pawn shop, the inside of which looked exactly as seedy and down at heel as the outside, with cracks in the glass of the cabinets and a musty smell in the air. Standing behind one of the counters was a small little man, balding on top of his head, with dirty spectacles perched upon his nose and a stained brown overcoat engulfing his diminutive form. He looked up as the tinkling of the bell announced their arrival, and instantly, a whimper escaped his lips.

“M-Missus Martinez,” he stammered in a thin and reedy voice. “H-how lovely to see you again.”

“Great to see you too, Petey,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Flash, flip that sign on the door over to ‘closed’.”

The shopkeeper, Petey or Pete or Peter or whatever his real name was, blanched visibly. “There’s no need for that, Missus Martinez!”

“What? I just want to make sure we’re not disturbed,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Don’t look at me like that, Petey, that hurts; I thought we were buddies. I thought we had a special relationship. The kind of relationship where I don’t bust your ass for handling stolen goods because you give me tips on all the crooks who come through here.”

Pete trembled visibly. “If some people knew I was talking to the cops, they’d chop me up into little pieces.”

“And none of those people will ever find out so long as you make it worth my while to keep it a secret,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Flash, get the door.”

“Right,” Flash murmured and flipped the sign over; he locked the door as well for good measure.

Pete swallowed. “What, uh, what can I help you with, Missus Martinez?”

Lieutenant Martinez advanced towards the cracked and badly cleaned counter. “What do you know about explosives?”

“Now, you know me, Ma’am,” Pete said. “You know I don’t touch nothing like that. No guns, no bombs; I’m not a violent man. I… I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“Uh huh,” Lieutenant Martinez said sceptically. “And how is Missus Hoffman?”

“She’s having an affair with the bloody milkman,” Pete muttered.

“Really? That’s rough. Just don’t kill him, or I’ll have to bring you in,” Lieutenant Martinez said. She leaned forwards, her elbows resting on the counter top. “You know, you’ve been good to me, Petey. If you help me out, I could help you out. Have one of my boys go around and make a few things clear to Mister Milkman.” She glanced at Cardin over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Look at him, look at how big he is; I think he could intimidate just about anyone, don’t you?”

Pete looked at Cardin with a gaze that was in equal parts apprehensive and eager. “You… you’d really do that for me?”

“Sure I would,” Lieutenant Martinez agreed. “You’re part of the team. Explosives.”

“I wish I could help, but-”

“I know that you don’t deal in bombs, believe me; if you did, you and I wouldn’t be having such a nice and cosy conversation,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “But I know that you know all the gangs, and I know that some of them use explosives so: where do they go for their gear?”

Pete hesitated. “And you’ll help me out, with my wife?”

“If you give me something worth rewarding you for,” Lieutenant Martinez said pointedly. “If not… sometimes it takes a lot of effort not to talk too much.”

“Dressinger,” Pete said quickly. “Leo Dressinger, that’s who I know. Owns a firework shop and sells a different kind of bang out the back. He can get you what you need: dust, detonators, the works. He’ll put it together if you pay extra. That’s what I’ve heard anyway. You know, not that I ever asked how much it would cost for a bomb that would blow up a milk float or nothing.”

“Don’t do it, Petey,” Lieutenant Martinez warned him. “I let a lot slide from you, but I won’t let you get away with murder.”

“I know that, Missus Martinez, but a fella can dream, can’t he?”

“Where can we find this Leo Dressinger?”

Weiss sat on a stool at the same desk at which Russel was sat, tapping out her requirements on her scroll with both thumbs.

She became aware of Russel craning his neck to see what she was doing over her shoulder.

Weiss sighed. "Russel?"

"Yeah?"

"We are teammates; you can just ask me what I'm doing."

"Right. Sorry. So, what are you doing?"

"I'm specifying my needs so that I can just plug in my scroll and have all the files downloaded to it without having to explain it verbally," Weiss explained. "Let's see, personnel records including termination dates, dates of industrial accidents… disciplinary records; I doubt someone jumps to making bombs without being written up at least once for their attitude."

"Just because someone's a bit of an ass at work doesn't make them a terrorist, though," Russel countered. "I mean, look at Cardin."

"True," Weiss conceded. "Very true. But we're not looking to arrest someone based on this information, just… create a pool of suspects."

"Okay," Russel said quietly. "So, do you really think you can get all of this stuff?"

Weiss looked at him over her shoulder. "For better or worse, I am the boss's daughter."

"Yeah, but you're also still a kid," Russel reminded her in turn.

"A kid who might complain to her daddy if she doesn't get what she wants," Weiss said. As far as they know, anyway. She would have liked to think it was a misconception on their part, born out of her father's success in keeping his domestic troubles out of the public eye, but the truth was… that was exactly what she had done, wasn't it? 'Daddy, Daddy, fix my public image!' The truth… the truth was that if she needed to, she would go to him again, for this, so important was it that they make a good showing here.

Hopefully, that would not be necessary.

She hopped down off the stool, all her requirements specified, and looked around the Basement. Most of the officers were several years older than her, and between the way they ignored her and what Lieutenant Martinez had said in her brief introduction, Weiss got the impression that they would not appreciate being disturbed. The young detective who had informed the lieutenant that their regular computer person was off sick seemed the most approachable, so Weiss walked towards him, her heels tapping.

"Excuse me," she said, in a tone the politeness of which verged upon apologetic. "I'm sorry to disturb you-"

"That's quite alright, Weiss," he said. "That is, if I may call you Weiss," he added hastily. "We're pretty informal around here, but I don't know what it's like up at Beacon."

"Weiss will be fine," she assured him. "When in Mistral, as they say."

He chuckled. "Yes," he said. "Great. Sorry, you were, I mean it's no trouble at all; you're doing more work than I am right now. But you were saying?"

"I was wondering if there is anywhere private I can make a call to SDC headquarters to get the information we require," Weiss said.

"Of course," he said. "This way." He gestured towards a door behind her, walking over to it and opening it to reveal a corridor that could have done with being better lit, with exposed pipes running along the right hand wall. "This corridor leads to the emergency exit," he explained. "It's a set of stairs leading aboveground, really, with a door that can only be opened from the inside. But there are also a couple of rooms where you can video call without it being obvious that you're in a police HQ. For undercover work, you know. I'm Mallard, by the way, Mallard Carter, Detective Mallard Carter."

Weiss smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Detective Carter."

"Mallard, please," he said. "As I said, we're quite informal here." He stopped outside a grey door with a metal handle. "Here we are," he said, opening said door.

The room within was completely black, the walls having been painted that way in paint so thick that all trace of the brick beneath had been concealed. The only light was red, casting the room in a hostile glow. A terminal sat on a desk against the wall; it and the chair to sit on were the only furniture within.

"Cosy," Weiss murmured.

"Sorry," Mallard said. "It's the best we've got, I'm afraid."

"It will be fine," Weiss said. "This won't take long." I hope not, anyway.

"I'll wait outside," Mallard said, and as Weiss entered the gloomy and forbidding room, he shut the door behind her.

Weiss managed to find her way to the chair and sat down in it, placing her scroll on the desk beside her. Activating the terminal, she was confronted with an array of call backgrounds, ranging from a suburban sitting room to an exterior street to a rough-looking bedsit. Weiss considered for a moment, finally landing on the one that, to her eyes, looked like a library, with a lot of books stacked on shelves behind her.

That done, she called SDC World Headquarters in Atlas.

Hopefully, she could get this done without having to involve her father – or without him being informed by an employee. She thought it was unlikely – Jacques Schnee tended to take a big picture view of the affairs of his vast corporation, refusing to be mired in trivialities – but not impossible. If he found out… he would probably not be happy. There was a reason she wasn't about to approach him directly; there would be a price for his help, as there always was.

With a little good fortune, all of that could be avoided.

A face appeared on the monitor, a young woman with chestnut brown hair cropped to just above the shoulders, with the Schnee snowflake upon a blue background rotating slowly behind her. "Thank you for contacting the Schnee Dust-" She looked up, brown eyes widening in surprise. "Miss Schnee! Good afternoon! I'm afraid Mister Schnee is in a board meeting right now, but I can inform him if this is an urgent matter-"

"That won't be necessary," Weiss said quickly; not only would it entangle Weiss in ways that she did not wish, but it would also probably get this poor girl in trouble for the interruption. "I'm aware that my father is a busy man; I don't want to disturb him."

"Of course, Miss Schnee; shall I inform him that you called?"

"That won't be necessary either," Weiss said. "I just need some information. I've compiled a list of the files I require." She plugged in her scroll to the terminal.

"I'm receiving your request now, Miss Schnee," the young woman on the other end of the line said. Her eyes widened just a little. "May I ask why you need this information, Miss Schnee?"

"It's for… a school assignment," Weiss said, and it wasn't even completely false. "One that I need to do well in, and to do well, I need this information."

"Some of this information is… I'm sorry, Miss Schnee, but some of these records are confidential. I can't just distribute them outside the company."

"I see," Weiss murmured. She hesitated for a moment. "Very well. I would like to speak to my father, please."

The young woman answering her call gasped. "Wait just one moment, Miss Schnee, if you'll just let me double check our data protection policy… ah! I'm so sorry, I misread…" She mumbled something too quietly for Weiss to make out. "Please, accept my apologies; I'm downloading all of the data you requested to your scroll now." She looked directly into Weiss' eyes. "Please don't mention this to Mister Schnee; I need this job. If I lose it, I'll have to move back to Mantle to live with my parents."

She thinks I'm going to get her fired, Weiss realised. That had not, honestly, been in her mind – she had been about to ask her father for another favour – but looking back, she could see how the poor girl had gotten that impression. She felt sickened at the idea that people thought she was capable of that kind of petty cruelty, and even more sick that she couldn't deny the fact and risk losing the girl's cooperation. "Thank you," she said. "In that case, that will be all."

The other girl blinked. "You mean you don't need to speak to Mister Schnee?"

"No," Weiss said. "That's no longer necessary."

The young woman sagged with relief. "Thank you, Miss Schnee. Have a nice day."

As Weiss hung up and extracted her scroll, it didn't feel like a particularly nice day.

Still, she had what she needed. She just hoped it was worth it.

Rather than walking any distance, this time, Lieutenant Martinez pulled up right outside the fireworks store, mounting the kerb with two wheels of the SUV and managing to line up the driver's side door directly with the front door of the shop itself.

The shop was called Sparkle with Flare, and it was both in a much better neighbourhood than the pawnshop they'd just visited – around here, most of the neighbouring shops were chain retailers, with the immediate neighbours being a bookstore and a middle class boutique. Sparkle itself was better maintained than the pawnshop, with clean windows displaying a dazzling array of fireworks popping with colour.

Cardin would never in a million years have expected that a place like this would also be a haunt of organised crime.

"It doesn't seem right, does it?" Flash murmured.

Lieutenant Martinez looked at him. "Why not?"

Flash hesitated. "Well… because…"

"Come on, say it," Lieutenant Martinez instructed. "It's because this is a nice part of town, isn't it?"

Flash bowed his head. "Yeah."

"You never know what's happening behind a closed door until you kick it down," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Like I told you, the monsters that we fight don't always look the part."

Somebody's stomach rumbled loudly.

"That wasn't me," Cardin said quickly, although the truth was that he was feeling pretty hungry. They'd skipped lunch in order to get started on their big break mission, and he, for one, was starting to regret it.

"No, it was me," Lieutenant Martinez admitted. "With this bomb threat, I haven't exactly had time to eat." She leaned over, across Flash, to open up the glove box. She pulled out a bright red lollipop, which she started to unwrap. "You boys want one?"

"No thanks," Flash murmured.

"Can I take one for later?" Cardin asked. He wasn't sure how it would look to go and talk to the suspect sucking on a lollipop – not that that idea seemed to bother the lieutenant – but he was hungry.

Lieutenant Martinez nodded, and Flash handed him a green lollipop that he tucked into a pouch he wore on his red sash.

"I started carrying these around for my kids," Lieutenant Martinez explained. "I ended up getting a taste for them myself." She unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it into her mouth, with the straw sticking out like a toothpick. "Okay," she said. "Let's see what Mister Dressinger has to say for himself."

They got out of the car and entered the store, where fireworks lined the walls in rows, rockets bulging on top of long metal poles, with fuses wrapped in rubber to prevent premature ignition. Behind the counter stood a man in a loud red shirt, with lions and lionesses frolicking upon it, wearing a chunky gold watch and gold chains around his neck.

"Afternoon, fellas," he said affably, although not without a hint of wariness. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Lieutenant Martinez said as she sauntered towards him. "Leo Dressinger?"

He nodded. "That's right."

"You want me to get the door again?" Flash asked.

"Good boy, learning fast; that's what I like to see," Lieutenant Martinez replied.

Dressinger's golden eyes bulged a little as Flash closed and locked the door. "What is this?"

"This is me asking you about bombs," Martinez said. "Had any customers lately?"

Dressinger swallowed. "Now listen," he said. "Just because you can afford a couple of huntsman bodyguards don't mean that you can go around asking questions like that. I've got friends-"

"Yeah, I know the kind of friends you have," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Trust me, they're not as tough as you think you are."

"And who the hell are you?"

"I'm the Flying Squad, and I haven't had my dinner," Lieutenant Martinez said. "So unless you want a kicking, you'll tell me everything I want to know."

Leo Dressinger stared at her for a moment. Then he turned and bolted out the back door, slamming it behind him.

"Always run," Lieutenant Martinez muttered. She turned an exasperated glare on Flash and Cardin. "What are you waiting for, an invitation?"

Cardin was the first off the mark, reaching the counter in swift strides and vaulting smoothly over it. He tried the door. It was locked, so he took a step back before bulling into it, shoulder first. The lock yielded before his strength, the door flying open as he staggered through it into a white, tile-floored corridor, half obstructed with boxes full of stock, down which Leo Dressinger was fleeing.

"Hey!" Cardin yelled as he chased after him, his own legs pounding on the tiles. "Stop!"

Dressinger looked behind him, fear on his face, before he continued to run. Cardin could hear Flash's feet pattering behind him as he forced himself to run faster, closing the distance upon their quarry. Dressinger started pulling down piles of boxes as he ran, obstructing the path behind him, forcing him to take more care of where he stepped as Dressinger reached the fire exit at the back and burst out into the street behind the store.

Cardin emerged a few seconds later and had to look around to see Dressinger heading west. He resumed the chase, not knowing or caring if Flash or the lieutenant were behind him. He yelled for people to get out of his way, and as Dressinger pushed an old lady to the ground to clear his own path, Cardin ignored them. Someone else would help them out; his only focus was on the quarry.

He felt like he was gaining. Dressinger crossed into the street-

A black SUV, tires screeching, came around the corner and hit Dressinger hard enough to knock him off his feet and send him rolling six feet down the road. He came to a stop, moaning in pain as he lay upon the tarmac.

The car door opened, and Lieutenant Martinez stepped out. "Great job, boys," she said. "Couldn't have done it without you." She looked past Cardin. "Flash, is she okay?"

Cardin looked over his shoulder to see Flash helping the old woman whom Dressinger had knocked down back on her feet.

"I think so," Flash said. "You don't need me to call an ambulance, do you, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, dear," she said. "You're very kind, but I'll be fine now I'm back on my feet and that ruffian is off his."

Lieutenant Martinez smirked as she crossed the street to where Dressinger lay on the ground.

Dressinger groaned. "I think I broke some ribs."

"I'll break more than that if you don't tell me what I want to know," Lieutenant Martinez growled, bending down to grab him by the arm and the scruff of the neck, hauling him to his feet. "Leo Dressinger, you're under arrest and coming with me."

Weiss ran towards the elevator door as it began to open, her side ponytail flying behind her. “Lieutenant!” she cried, as she saw the lieutenant emerge from out of the lift with Flash, Cardin, and a slightly bruised and beaten-up looking man held between the two boys. Weiss paused for a moment, before rallying quickly to say, “We think we have a name for The Purifier.”

Lieutenant Martinez stared at her for a moment. “Yuma,” she said. “Take this scumbag to the Cage; I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Sure thing, El-Tee,” Yuma, the tall man whom Weiss had seen the lieutenant arguing with earlier when they arrived, muttered and strode across the squadroom floor to take the suspect off Flash and Cardin’s hands, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him towards one of the sets of stairs. The suspect, for his part, did not resist. That seemed very wise of him.

Lieutenant Martinez walked forwards, with Flash and Cardin trailing after her like faithful hounds. “Go on,” she said sharply.

Weiss gestured towards the screens at the back of the room, where Russel was bringing up the photograph of a handsome-looking man in his early twenties, whose black hair had an almost velvet quality to it and whose eyes were a striking red against his pale skin. “This,” she said, “is Krot Krasny, a mole faunus. At the time this photograph was taken, he was employed by the SDC in the refinery at Crystal City. The mines there were tapped out some years ago, but the city authorities for a long time subsidised the SDC to keep the refinery operational to preserve jobs… until eight years ago, when a fire broke out and swept through the entire plant.”

“Arson?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.

“More likely, it was aging equipment that wasn’t being maintained properly,” Weiss murmured. “My father might keep the plant open, but he wouldn’t invest in it in those circumstances.”

Lieutenant Martinez looked at her, eyebrows rising slightly.

“I’m my father’s daughter, not his publicist,” Weiss explained.

Lieutenant Martinez smirked. “Don’t mind me. Go on. Krot Krasny.”

“Krot Krasny was one of the workers injured in the fire… and one of those laid off when the SDC shut down the facility in the wake of the fire,” Weiss went on. “According to the records, he suffered severe burns.”

“'One of'?” Lieutenant Martinez repeated. “What makes you think he’s our guy?”

“Because he had a disciplinary record,” Weiss went on. “Before the fire, he’d been written up twice for a bad attitude.”

“That can’t be unique either,” Flash said.

“No,” Weiss allowed. “But Krot Krasny arrived in Vale just five days ago, and it might have taken that long for Blake’s contact to learn he was here. Krasny used his own passport to get through security.”

“Pretty ballsy move, not trying to hide,” Cardin growled.

“He doesn’t need to hide; nobody knows who he is,” Lieutenant Martinez explained. “That’s the point of this game with The Purifier; he hides behind a name and a myth, and meanwhile, Krot Krasny gets to go about his business, a law-abiding citizen. Using his own ID was smart; using a fake could see him get picked up, get a lot of questions asked that could lead to his criminal activities. Do we have surveillance of him at the airport?”

“We got lucky,” Russel said, his fingers flying across the keyboard as the screen was consumed by video from an airport security camera. “According to the time of the video and when his passport was logged, this is our guy.”

To say that he looked different from the handsome man in the photograph would have been an understatement. His hands were gone, replaced by a pair of cybernetic hands protruding from out of the sleeves of a black hoodie. The hood was down, if only temporarily, for he put it back up again as soon as he had cleared customs, but while it was down, it revealed a head that had been consumed by fire; the velvety hair was gone, and in its place, only the burned flesh, melted and cracked and malformed, remained.

On the video, Krasny snarled at a young child who had stared too long, throwing up his hood and reaching into his bag for something that they couldn’t see because he passed out of sight of the camera.

Lieutenant Martinez folded his arms. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I can buy that’s our guy.”

Flash frowned. “Crystal City,” he growled. “He went back for his revenge.”

“It’s beginning to look that way,” Weiss murmured.

“Do we know where he went?” Flash demanded.

“Nobody’s required to give up that sort of information,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “And even if they were, just because he’s using his real name doesn’t mean he’d necessarily give the right address. Still, good work, you two; at least we’re chasing a man now, not a ghost. Do you have any paper copies of those photos?”

“Here,” Russel said, holding up a folder with print-outs of all the information; Mallard had warned them that Lieutenant Martinez preferred to deal in hard copy.

“Thanks,” Lieutenant Martinez said, snatching the folder out of Russel’s hand. “I’m going to go question our guy; you four can watch if you want. The Cage is upstairs.” She gave them no more instructions than that but turned and made her way towards the same staircase up which Yuma had dragged the guy that Martinez, Flash, and Cardin had brought in. Cardin barely hesitated before he followed after her.

Russel hopped off his seat. “Are you coming?” he asked.

“In a moment,” Weiss said quietly, her attention fixed upon Flash. She felt, rather than saw, Russel walk around behind her and follow Cardin and the Lieutenant.

Flash didn’t look at Weiss. His eyes were fixed on the screens above, upon the images of the man who had... who might have... who they thought had killed his father.

Weiss looked at him not looking at her. It was subtle, but it seemed to her as though his whole body was shaking.

“How… how did it go out there?” Weiss asked, deciding to ease in to what she really wanted to talk about.

Flash’s brow furrowed. “We learned something, I suppose,” he said. “I can’t say we added much.”

“It’s our first day.”

“You seem to have made a good impression,” Flash replied.

Weiss didn’t acknowledge that; privately, she thought so too, but now wasn’t the time for bragging. She wanted to reach out to Flash physically but worried that he might not appreciate it right now, and so she settled for saying, “And… how are you?”

Flash turned away from her, walking across the squad room to the far wall, resting one hand against the breeze block and leaning hard upon it. Weiss followed after him, her shoulder almost touching the wall as she stood where she could see his face. His head was bowed, and his eyes were closed, his blue orbs invisible.

“I never thought about the person who did it,” he admitted. “It was always the White Fang that had killed my father, never a man. It was the group – not the faunus, not like that – but… it was almost a mass of them. A group in masks and hoods. I never thought about the person who had built the bomb, who had planted it, detonated it. And now… now, I have a name, a face… I’m not a good person, Weiss.”

Weiss frowned. “What in Remnant are you talking about?”

“I know that I should feel sorry for that guy, for what he went through,” Flash explained. “I know that I should… but I don’t. I don’t care. All that I can see when I look at those pictures is that he’s the reason… and a part of me wants to ask him why, and another part of me is terrified to find out the answer.”

Weiss was silent for a moment. “When I would hear about White Fang attacks on the SDC,” she said, “when my father would come home in a foul temper because of some new incident… I used to want to ask them if it was worth it. I used to want to ask if what they achieved was worth the suffering they caused. And yes, I counted having to live with my father in a bad mood as suffering, but I don’t think that makes me a bad person. Or at least, I hope it doesn’t. Just like I don’t think you’re a bad person either. You’re one of the best people I know: kind, compassionate, brave. You had reason to grow up hating the faunus, but you didn’t. But I think you’re allowed to hate the man who killed your father. If you’re not… I don’t see the point in setting the bar for virtue so high that you can’t be a human and pass it.” She paused for a moment. “We will catch him,” she promised. “The four of us, together.”

“I hope so,” Flash said softly. “I don’t want anyone else to go through what I did.”

“They won’t,” Weiss vowed. “Now, we should probably hurry, or we’ll miss the interrogation.”

Flash turned around and looked at her at last; she fancied that she could see a trace of gratitude in his blue eyes. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone.

They hasted upstairs and caught sight of Cardin and Russel standing in front of a set of monitors with Detective Mallard, watching the images from cameras located on the inside of a metal box not far away, with said cameras being the only way to see what was going on within.

“The Cage is completely soundproof,” Mallard explained as Weiss and Flash joined them. “This is the only way to see or hear anything.”

“What did we miss?” Flash said.

“Nothing yet,” Mallard replied. “The lieutenant likes to sweat them for a little bit first.”

Indeed, on the cameras, they could see Lieutenant Martinez sitting calmly on the other side of the table from Dressinger, calmly sucking on another lollipop while Yuma prowled restlessly up and down the wall, the smoke from his cigars spilling out into the room.

Dressinger also said nothing; he just kept glancing nervously between the two police officers.

“Fireworks, huh?” Lieutenant Martinez said. “You know, when I was a kid, I used to love fireworks. How about you, Yuma?”

Yuma shrugged. “They got a little loud sometimes.”

Lieutenant Martinez chuckled. “When I was a little girl, every New Year's and every Vytal Opening, my Dad used to throw a party with fireworks. When I was really young, I asked if we couldn’t go to the big party in Winchester Park, but Dad said there was no point; you couldn’t see nothing with that big crowd. And so we had a barbecue, with all of the neighbours, and Dad would set off fireworks, just for us, in our own garden. I used to spend all day waiting to see what kind he’d brought this year, 'cause it seemed like every year was better than the last. I loved it. Do kids still love fireworks, Leo?”

Dressinger blinked. “Some of ‘em, sure,” he muttered.

“I bet they do,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Do you ever think about how many of those kids, who love your fireworks, have died because of the bombs that you also sell? How many of those kids have lost their parents because of the bombs that you also sell? Do you ever think about how many of those kids will only have memories of the fireworks their Dad brought for them last New Year's because of a bomb that you sold? Well? Do you?”

“I… I…” Dressinger stammered, cringing away from her.

“Don’t bother to deny it, Leo; I’m not interested in hearing your excuses,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Why, Leo? For the money? Does that help you sleep at night, the lien you make from the blood of innocent people?”

“I… I… I want a lawyer,” he managed to say.

“I bet you do,” Lieutenant Martinez growled. “But what I want is information, and since this is my kingdom, we’ll cover that before we get to what you want.”

“Y-you can’t do this. I got rights-”

“Let me tell me something about rights!” Lieutenant Martinez snarled, slamming her palm down onto the table as she got to her feet. “Rights are for decent, ordinary, law-abiding citizens, rights like the right to be kept safe from scum like you and the people that you supply explosives to. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have any rights, because rights are not for villains or those who deal with them. What you have is a chance to talk before I toss you into a cell and throw away the key!” She flipped open the folder, shoving a picture of Krot Krasny’s burned face under Dressinger’s nose. “Do you recognise this guy?”

Dressinger flinched. “No!”

“Are you sure? Look closely now!”

“No, I…” Dressinger paused, glancing back at the photograph. “I mean… I never saw his face, but he wore a dark hoodie, just like that.”

“He had the hood up?”

Dressinger nodded. “And a mask. He had a mask over his face.”

“A mask?” Lieutenant Martinez repeated. “A white mask?”

Dressinger shook his head. “A black mask. It covered his whole face; it… it was like a screaming face, in agony, you know, a really wide mouth with the points facing down. It creeped me right out; I was glad when he left.”

“You weren’t so creeped you didn’t sell to him, though, were you?” Lieutenant Martinez demanded. “Were you?!”

“No!” Dressinger admitted.

“What did he buy?”

“Detonators.”

“Timed or remote?”

“Both.”

“How many?”

“A dozen… no, fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” Lieutenant Martinez repeated. “Fifteen detonators? Fifteen, gods… anything else?”

“Fuses. Resistant casing materials. The works.”

“How did he make contact?” Martinez yelled, pressing her face close to his. “I know that a guy in a creepy mask didn’t just walk into your fireworks store during business hours and ask for bomb-making materials, so how did he make contact?”

“It was after hours,” Dressinger said. “I got a call, asked me to wait in the store to talk about a special commission. That’s what people do when they… you know. They want something… out the back like.”

“When they want bombs, not fireworks,” Martinez said flatly.

Dressinger nodded. “Y-yeah. So I waited. And they showed up.”

“What was the number?” Yuma asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Dressinger said. “I-I don’t keep track. It’s better that way.”

“And you don’t know where they went either, do you?”

“No. If I did, I’d tell you, I swear.”

Lieutenant Martinez snorted. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure you would.” She paused for a moment, her face hidden from the camera, before she gestured to Yuma and walked towards the door to the Cage. Outside, Mallard pressed a button to open said door, and Martinez and Yuma emerged, locking Dressinger back in behind them.

“That didn’t seem to go too well,” Russel observed as the two detectives walked towards the group.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” Yuma growled.

“He’s right,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered. “But there’s sometimes only so much you can do when the guy doesn’t know anything.”

“We confirmed that there is a bomb threat,” Mallard pointed out.

“Yes, yes we did,” Lieutenant Martinez acknowledged.

“Though I wish we hadn’t,” Flash muttered.

“We all wish that,” Weiss said softly.

Cardin scowled. “So what now?”

“Now?” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Now we cut him loose.”

“What?” Cardin explained. “You mean you’re going to let him walk out of here?”

“He sells bombs to criminals!” Flash yelled. “He admitted it!”

“And a whole load of people saw us arrest him and take him into custody,” Lieutenant Martinez reminded them. “So, when a whole load more people see a uniform car drop him off outside his store, safe and sound, what are they going to think?”

Weiss frowned. “I’m not-”

“They’ll think he talked,” Russel said. “They’ll think he talked, and they’ll want to find out what he said.”

“Exactly!” Lieutenant Martinez proclaimed. “That’s the theory, anyway. And my hope. And when they show up, we’ll be waiting. With luck, we can nab somebody who knows a little more than Dressinger there does.”

“That sounds… kind of risky,” Flash said. “I mean… what if they kill him before we can get to them?”

“Then there’ll be one less scumbag in the world, what about it?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.

Weiss’s eyebrows rose. “That… is rather cold.”

Lieutenant Martinez looked at her. “Like I told these two boys, we’re not huntsmen here; we don’t have the luxury of holding all lives to be equally precious and worth protecting. I choose to focus on the people who are worth saving, all the innocent people who are at risk so long as The Purifier is out on the streets. I’ve got a bomber who could strike at any time, and if I have to throw someone like Leo Dressinger into harm’s way in order to get him, I will. If you have a problem with that, then you can go back to school. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Weiss said immediately. “No, I just… my apologies, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t apologise,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Just listen, learn, and move on. Now, let’s get our fly out of here and see what kind of spiders come along.”

Flash had told Weiss what Lieutenant Martinez had said to him and Cardin about her not entirely trusting most of her own officers; it explained what would have been the otherwise slightly strange decision to leave the bulk of them back at the Basement.

Only two cars – two unobtrusive-looking saloon cars, painted in common dark blue colours – kept watch on Leo Dressinger. Cardin and Russel were in one car with Lieutenant Martinez, while Weiss and Flash sat in the other car with Detective Mallard, watching as Dressinger walked down the street towards a joint called The Iceberg Lounge.

An open scroll sat on the dashboard linked both to Lieutenant Martinez in the other car.

Weiss, in the front seat, looked over at Mallard, and then behind him to the sword on the backseat next to Flash, sitting comfortably enough beside his Caliburn; her own Myrtenaster was between her knees.

“I… hope you don’t mind me saying,” Weiss said, “but I wouldn’t expect a police officer to carry a sword.”

Mallard laughed nervously. “Well… to be honest… being a police officer wasn’t my first choice of job.”

Weiss considered that for a second. “You… wanted to be a huntsman?”

Mallard nodded. “I wanted to fight monsters, be a hero, defend Vale from the darkness, all that marvellous stuff. Just like the storybooks. I was certain that it was… what I was meant to be. I graduated from Signal Combat School, I had my weapon, I applied for Beacon… I thought I knew where my life was going.”

Weiss’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Mallard was silent for a moment. “I failed Initiation. I didn’t find a partner. I got a relic, and I got out, but I got out alone. Professor Ozpin told me that was against the rules; it didn’t count. There was no place for me at Beacon.”

“I’m sorry,” Flash murmured.

“I’m a little surprised,” Weiss confessed. “You survived the Initiation; would it really have been so difficult to have found some sort of place for you?”

“I asked myself that a lot,” Mallard admitted. “I’d made it through the forest, I’d done what was asked of me, I’d shown that I was able to survive, to kill grimm. Just because I hadn’t found a partner, didn’t that just go to show how strong I was? How capable? You could say that it showed that I was more capable than all the rest because I could do it on my own and I didn’t need anyone else to carry me!” He paused. “I probably sound a little bitter, don’t I?”

“Just a teensy bit,” Weiss said.

Mallard laughed. “I… well, I was, I won’t deny that. But now… don’t get me wrong, the two of you – the four of you – are incredibly lucky, getting to go to Beacon, to train to be huntsman… but at the same time, I think that getting thrown out by Professor Ozpin is the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Because it brought you here?” Flash guessed.

“Right,” Mallard said. “At first, when I joined the police… I wanted to help people, but I won’t pretend that I didn’t see it as a poor substitute for the thing I’d really wanted to do. But working for DJ – the El-Tee; don’t tell her I called her DJ while was on duty – has shown me that… the monsters that we fight are every bit as a dangerous as the ones that you fight, maybe even more, and Lieutenant Martinez is as much a hero as any huntsman. We’re the line between law and chaos, and that… that matters. That matters as much as keeping the beowolf from the door.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to preach at you; I just-”

“Take pride in what you do,” Weiss said. “There’s no shame in that.”

Mallard nodded. “But… if you don’t mind… what’s it like, up at Beacon?”

Before Weiss could respond, they all heard Lieutenant Martinez’s voice coming out of the scroll. “Look sharp; I think we might have something.”

Weiss looked out of the window. She could still see Dressinger, looking warily behind him as he walked down the street, but not quite so warily that he was able to spot the people keeping him under surveillance. Mind you, she couldn’t see anybody following him, so she had very little room to talk.

“I don’t see-” she began.

“The brown SUV crawling down the street in the opposite direction to Dressinger,” Cardin’s voice emerged from out of the scroll.

Weiss looked down the road and saw it now: a big, boxy square vehicle with tinted windows that made it impossible to see inside. It was indeed moving very slowly, so slowly that it was being honked by some of the vehicles behind as they drove around this obstacle to the traffic. The car itself seemed oblivious to the irritation that it was causing, trundling along without a care in the world.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance it’s just a bad driver?” Weiss asked.

“It could be,” Lieutenant Martinez allowed. “But it might not be.”

Dressinger seemed as oblivious to the approaching vehicle as Weiss had been. As the SUV rolled slowly closer to him, he stopped at a roadside pretzel stand, one hand descending into his pockets to fish out his lien.

“What do we do?” Flash asked.

“Wait for instructions,” Lieutenant Martinez replied.

The SUV approached.

Dressinger reached for his pretzel with one hand, holding out a low-value card with the other.

The rear doors of the SUV flew open, and two men leapt out, big faunus – a rabbit and a dog, judging by their ears – with blocky Valish rifles in their hands. Bystanders on the street began to scream in alarm as they grabbed Dressinger off the street, his lien falling to the pavement as they dragged him back and into the invisible recesses of their vehicle.

The vehicle which had already begun to speed away as the doors slammed shut, the SUV accelerating at a rate which seemed almost unbelievable compared to how slow it had been going a moment ago.

“After them!” Martinez yelled, and out of her window, Weiss could see the lieutenant’s car dismounting the kerb and executing a smooth turn to follow in the same direction as the onrushing SUV.

Mallard mimicked the motion from the other side of the road, turning his car around and setting off in the same direction as their quarry.

Flash leaned forward in the back seat. “I thought that the plan was to stop them before they abducted Dressinger?”

“This works out better,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “With luck, they’ll lead us right to The Purifier.”

“That’s-”

“Cold? Yes, yes it is,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “And do you know why that is? Because my job isn’t to care about people like Leo Dressinger; my job is to catch bad guys and protect the innocent, and that’s what I’m doing right now. Understand?”

Flash didn’t reply, and from the other end of the scroll, it seemed like the lieutenant wasn’t inclined to press him upon the point.

Weiss… Weiss understood. At least she understood the point that Lieutenant Martinez was making. She just wasn’t sure that she agreed with it. Oh, no doubt it was very tempting to say that this life was worth more than that one; it was so tempting in fact that it was very hard to martial cogent arguments against the idea. Why shouldn’t the life of a criminal be worth less than the life of the innocent potential victim of crime? Except… if one could excuse the slippery slope fallacy, where did that end? Declare the criminal worth less than the innocent, declare the spoiled Atlesian socialite worth less than the hard-working miner in Mantle. Declare the Schnee, whose family had caused harm to others and profited, to be worth less than those who had endured the harm.

Declare the faunus worth less than the human, and wasn’t that how this had all started in the end?

Perhaps she was naive; certainly, it wasn’t Weiss’s place to lecture a twenty-year veteran on how to do her job, and she had no intention of voicing any of these concerns aloud, but that didn’t change the fact that she had concerns.

This isn’t Beacon indeed.

“The El-Tee’s methods… aren’t for everyone,” Mallard admitted. “But she’s still the best cop in the whole force; I think so, anyway. There’s no lieutenant I’d rather have working this case.”

I suppose that’s one of the reasons we get these missions, to see… different points of view.

She glanced at Flash. All that really matters right now is stopping The Purifier.

All that really matters is making sure what happened in Crystal City doesn’t happen again.

They kept up the pursuit, or rather, Lieutenant Martinez kept up the pursuit, and they, in the second car, followed behind her. They had a stroke of luck in that the SUV didn’t seem to realise that it was being followed, even as they raced away from the scene of the crime. Perhaps they had expected the sirens of cars in hot pursuit and simply didn’t imagine that the police might have been there already when they arrived. In any case, they were able to follow the SUV without incident – apart from having to run a few lights – all the way to a nice suburban part of Vale, a neighbourhood with picket fences outside of the houses and where the houses were panelled with painted wood. The panelling of the particular house on the drive of which the SUV parked was a pink-lilac colour and was, to be honest, the last kind of place at which Weiss would have expected to see criminal activity.

“Okay, this is it,” Lieutenant Martinez announced. “Everyone, get ready to engage. Mallard, head around the house and come in through the back; I’ll take the front.”

“You got it, El-Tee,” Mallard said.

“Remember, kids, this is police work now, so don’t kill anyone if you can possibly avoid it.”

“Shouldn’t we maybe call for backup or something?” Weiss squawked as Mallard began to accelerate, shoving her back in her seat.

Mallard grinned. “That’s not the lieutenant’s way; she can’t sit still and wait when the targets are right in front of her.”

As the kidnappers began to climb out of the SUV, dragging a reluctant but unharmed-looking Leo Dressinger with them, Lieutenant Martinez car came skidding to a halt with a screech of tires, turning to present the side of the saloon to the house before them, blocking the road in case the SUV should try and reverse out.

Lieutenant Martinez threw open her door, pistol already in hand. “This is the police! Drop your weapons and put your hands where I can see them!”

The rabbit faunus raised his rifle. Lieutenant Martinez’ pistol cracked twice, and he fell back, crying out and clutching his shoulder. The dog faunus managed to start firing, peppering the side of the lieutenant’s car with bullets as she dove over the hood for cover. Weiss could see Cardin and Russel scrambling out the other side of the vehicle as it absorbed the fire.

As Mallard crashed their car through the picket fence, Weiss hastily lowered the window and pointed the tip of Myrtenaster out of it; aiming was practically impossible at this speed, but she was able to fire off blasts of ice dust towards the faunus as they tried to drag Dressinger towards the front door.

Mallard hit the brakes, throwing Weiss forward so hard that the seatbelt locked, but thankfully, she didn’t lose her grip on Myrtenaster. She tried to ignore the pain in her shoulder and across her chest as she unbuckled her seatbelt and half-jumped, half-stumbled out of the car.

The dog faunus tried to turn his gun on her, but the crack of the lieutenant’s pistol sounded again, and he went down sprawling. Another faunus, with goat horns curling past his ears, emerged out onto the front porch, a chunky pistol in one hand which he aimed at Weiss.

Flash leapt past her, Rho Aias – his weapons looked a little incongruous without the armour to go with them – in his hand as he raised the shield to take the bullets. Weiss could hear the rounds rattling against the metal as she focussed her attention on the SUV. She held her rapier before her, striking a pose as she conjured up a line of light blue glyphs behind her, stretching out to one side. Laser-like beams leapt out to strike the car, puncturing the tires and the front of the car body where Weiss thought the engine was.

There would be no escape from that direction.

Cardin charged with a yell, his mace held above his head before he slammed it straight into the face of one of the faunus holding Dressinger. The one flew into the wall of the house, while he knocked the other one across the car bonnet as Russel dragged Dressinger away to safety.

“This way!” Mallard shouted as he kicked down the gate leading to the back of the house. His sword transformed into a slender-barreled carbine as he led Flash and Weiss around the rear of the building. The garden was bare, the lawn reasonable and well-kept but with neither flower beds nor trees nor children’s toys… no sign at all that anything was being done with it.

Why would they be doing anything with it? They’re terrorists, not householders.

Mallard was closest to the back door, with Flash a little way behind and Weiss only coming around the corner when a giant rat faunus – Weiss could see his tail emerging out of the back of his trousers – emerged from out of the back door with a shotgun.

The shotgun boomed, and Mallard was hurled backwards across the garden, his body turning over and over before he landed, unmoving, upon the grass. Flash let out a wordless cry as he started towards the other man, Rho Aias held before him, Caliburn drawn back.

The shotgun boomed again. Flash stiffened, his semblance letting him take the hit without being thrown back.

The faunus racked his shotgun’s slide.

Weiss sped forward, skating upon a row of glyphs which carried her forwards and upwards, skewering their formidable adversary upon the tip of Myrtenaster, hitting him with a blast of ice dust at the same time and then skating by, flying upwards, stopping to stand on a single clear white glyph floating in mid-air, suspended sideways.

Their enemy had staggered backwards, and while he staggered, Flash closed the distance between them, slamming Rho Aias into him and unleashing the shock of the shield’s payload of lightning dust. The big rat faunus cried out, his body twitching and convulsing, before sinking down, unconscious, against the wall of the house.

Weiss leapt down to the ground, looking back towards Mallard, but he had already begun to move, albeit a little slowly. It looked as though his aura hadn’t been broken.

Flash led the way inside, but they found no more faunus in the house, only Lieutenant Martinez and Cardin coming the other way.

The house was not huge, and it didn’t take the six of them long to conduct a thorough search.

They did not find The Purifier, but they did find, in the basement, some evidence that someone had been making bombs.

And judging by the way that the workbench was covered in tools as though someone had been working on something, but no sign of what they had been working on, at least one bomb had been completed and was not in the house.

Flash stared at the empty workbench, his eyes wide, his hands trembling.

“Too late,” he muttered. “Too late.”

“Not yet,” Weiss told him. “We can still-”

She was interrupted by Flash’s scroll ringing. “Yes?” he snapped as he answered it.

It was Twilight Sparkle, and her expression was grave. “Flash… I don’t know, but… I thought you should know… it’s Sunset, something’s happened.”

Sunset's Letter (New)

Sunset’s Letter

There was nothing that she could have done.

She should have been able to do something.

The two thoughts warred in Pyrrha’s mind like armies, like the hosts of the heroes clashing on the plain before the walls of Mistral. First one thought and then the other gained the upper hand, the advantage flowing first one way and then the other.

Neither made her feel any better. Whichever one won, her misery, her guilt, her worry, and her fear, they all remained the same.

They had arranged to meet at the fabric store that Ruby had visited with Blake; they had been going to see… Pyrrha couldn’t even remember what the movie was; she just knew that she and Jaune had arrived late, that Sunset and Ruby had been there already, waiting for them.

She and Jaune had been walking down the street towards the shop when…

Intense heat. Fire and smoke. A bang that had momentarily deafened her.

Now, Sunset lay on the hospital bed, eyes closed, silent, unmoving.

She had taken the worst of it; something to do with where she’d been standing relative to Ruby… or rather, where they had both been standing relative to the blast.

Pyrrha knew that Sunset, given the choice, would not have had it any other way.

That was small comfort, not least because Sunset had not intended this. There was no way that she could have seen this coming.

No way that any of them could have seen this coming.

There was nothing that she could have done.

She should have been able to do something.

Pyrrha stood in the doorway of Sunset’s room, watching as Jaune spread his hands over her, those same hands aglow with a golden light which spread across Sunset’s body like the rays of dawn spreading outward from the horizon across the land. Sunset did not stir. Her visible injuries, the cuts and burns that the explosion had dealt her when it shattered her aura, faded from her skin, leaving her as fair and striking to look upon as ever… no. Not quite so much. She did not look so… she did not look so… when she slept, she…

She did not look quite so alive as when her eyes were open, when she was talking, moving, behaving like a creature from another world. All that was absent now, and with it, some of Sunset’s charm.

Her wounds were gone, but still, she did not stir.

The light from Jaune’s hand faded, like night and darkness returning when the day is past. Jaune looked at the doctor. “Why… why isn’t she waking up?”

The doctor, a middle-aged gentleman whose collar and tie emerged above his lab coat, said, “With luck, it’s just a concussion. We’ll take a scan of her brain and see if there are any issues that we should be concerned with.”

“But she will wake up?” Jaune asked. “Won’t she?”

“Is she a fighter?” the doctor asked.

“Definitely,” Pyrrha said from the doorway. “One of the… the most resilient I’ve ever known.”

The doctor nodded. “Then her chances are good. Excuse me please,” he added, starting for the door. “Nurse!”

Pyrrha made way for him and for the nurses who wheeled Sunset out upon her bed, still and silent and sleeping-seeming. She watched as they bore her away, the wheels of the bed squeaking and rattled as they pushed her down the corridor.

Jaune walked towards her, crossing the space where the bed – the space where Sunset – had recently been. His shoulders were slumped downwards, as if under a heavy weight.

“She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha very much wanted to reassure him, but she would not lie to him, could not bring herself to lie to him, and so the most that she could actually say was, “I hope so.”

Jaune didn’t look very reassured. “It’s stupid, don’t you think?” he said. “Sunset has survived battles, hordes of grimm, and now… a bomb? Just a bomb going off, no enemy to face, no… that’s what-”

“We mustn’t give up hope,” Pyrrha insisted, placing a hand upon his arm. “She isn’t lost to us yet.”

“I know,” Jaune said softly, so softly that Pyrrha could barely hear him. “I just… it feels so stupid, doesn’t it?”

Stupid was certainly the word, but Pyrrha did not feel that it was stupid so much as she was made to feel stupid. The bomb, the blast, Sunset’s passive face as she lay there helpless and immobile, it all seemed to mock the pretensions of Sunset and of Pyrrha herself. Heroes. Great Warriors. Protectors and defenders and saviours of the world. Sunset Shimmer, who had dreamed of glory eternal, of a name and reputation that would endure in the immortal memory like the heroes of old, might die because she had been in a shop when a bomb went off.

That was why it didn’t help to tell herself that there was nothing she could have done. If there was nothing that she could have done, then what good was she? The Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the Champion of Mistral, what did any of it mean, really? She had hated the way that those epithets and all the reasons why she had them elevated her up above the common run of men, but never before had she perceived how truly hollow the pedestal on which she stood was.

Proud of her skill in arms, she had always thought, as much as she detested being lifted up, that there was some substance underneath her feet, but now? What good was the Invincible Girl if she could not protect her friend?

Was I supposed to duel a bomb?

If I cannot, perhaps I should admit that I have no power at all and no cause to talk so bold or dream so large.

“What…?” She trailed off, the words dying in her mouth.

Jaune looked at her. His eyes were wide and a little watery. “Pyrrha?”

She could not ask. She could not ask him ‘what good are we?’ Not now, of all times. Not when she had to be strong for him. Not when she felt in some strange way that she had to be strong for Sunset.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s-”

“Not nothing,” Jaune interrupted her.

She looked into his eyes again. If she could not lie to him about Sunset’s chances, then she could not lie to him about this, either. “It doesn’t feel stupid,” she said quietly.

Jaune frowned. “Pyrrha?”

“It feels wrong!” Pyrrha declared. “Sunset is one of the bravest huntresses at Beacon; she may not be as ready to throw herself into any peril as Ruby is, but she never turns away when the horn of battle sounds. She is a fighter, just as I told the doctor she was, she is strong, and… and she has magic,” she added, lowering her a voice just a little for the sake of confidentiality. “And none of it was enough to save her from this condition.” She paused. “How many lien have the taxpayers of Vale and Atlas spent on Sunset’s education as a huntress?”

“It takes thirty thousand a year to make a huntress at Beacon,” Professor Ozpin declared. “I am afraid the exact figures for an Atlesian combat school elude me, but I would set it about the region of… sixty to seventy thousand lien, all told.”

Jaune gasped a little. Pyrrha turned around, her eyes widening a little. The headmaster stood at the end of the corridor, leaning slightly upon his cane with one hand.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Professor,” Pyrrha murmured. “You-”

“I was informed that two of my students had been hospitalised by an explosion; how could I not come?” Professor Ozpin asked. His cane tapped the floor as he walked towards them. “How are Miss Rose and Miss Shimmer?”

“Ruby wasn’t hurt too badly,” Jaune explained. “After I boosted her aura, the doctors didn’t think there was anything wrong with her; they just-”

He was interrupted by the sound of a commotion coming towards them, a commotion which turned out to be Ruby, shrugging off the nurse who tried to restrain her.

“You told me I was fine, so let go of me!” Ruby snapped as she advanced briskly down the corridor. “I’m fine, I don’t need to lie down, I want to see Sunset!”

“Ruby?” Pyrrha said, closing the distance between them. “Should you be up and about?”

“She should be resting under observation,” the nurse trailing after her declared acerbically.

“If those are the doctors’ orders, Miss Rose, then you should do as you are told,” Professor Ozpin observed.

Ruby let out a little squeak of alarm as she noticed the headmaster. “Professor Ozpin! You’re here!”

“I am your headmaster, Miss Rose; is it so surprising that I should be concerned about your wellbeing?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Ruby laughed nervously. “Well, you did catapult us into the Emerald Forest on the first day of school,” she murmured. “But, aha, as you can see, I’m fine, one hundred percent, nothing wrong with me, so-”

“So why don’t we let the medical professionals be the judge of that, Miss Rose?” Professor Ozpin asked, his voice gentle and firm in equal measure.

Ruby pouted. “Can I at least see Sunset first?”

“She’s not here, Ruby,” Jaune said. “They already took her away for some scans.”

“Scans?” Ruby repeated. “What kind of scans?”

“Brain scans, I think,” Jaune replied. “They want to find out if there’s any… any special reason why she hasn’t woken up.”

Ruby frowned. “So… she hasn’t woken up yet?” she asked, her voice small and quiet.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “No,” she said. “No, she hasn’t.”

“But she will, right?” Ruby demanded. “She will wake up; I mean she has to wake up! If she doesn’t wake up, then…”

Pyrrha reached out and placed an arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “That… Sunset wouldn’t want you to despair of her too soon. If she were here, she would surely be most horribly disappointed in us all for counting her out because of something so trivial as an explosion.”

Ruby snorted and then sniffed. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she’d say.”

“Come along, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “I believe you have some resting up to do.”

“Can’t I wait for Sunset to come back, Professor?” Ruby pleaded.

“No, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied firmly. “You will rest until you are discharged, and then you – all of three of you – will return to Beacon.”

“'Return to Beacon'?” Jaune repeated. “You mean just leave Sunset in here?”

“Is there anything that you can do for her by remaining here, Mister Arc?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Maybe there isn’t, Professor,” Pyrrha protested, “but I think that we would all rather stay here until… until Sunset wakes up.”

“I am sure you would, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin answered. “But I have to consider the possibility that you have been deliberately targeted in this explosion.”

“'Deliberately'?” Ruby gasped. “You think someone was trying to kill us?”

“I can think of no other reason to bomb a slightly down-at-heel fabric shop,” Professor Ozpin said. “And, that being the case, I must bring you back to Beacon for your own safety. I have asked the police to station some men for Miss Shimmer’s protection, but you three will be much safer at Beacon.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. She bowed her head for a moment, contemplating. “There is some force in what you say, Professor, but nevertheless, I, for one, would like to remain by Sunset’s side.”

Professor Ozpin looked at her, and Pyrrha found it impossible to tell what he was thinking. “For what reason, Miss Nikos? Or perhaps I should ask if there is any reason beyond mere sentiment?”

“Because my friend and comrade… because the life of my friend and comrade hangs in the balance, Professor,” Pyrrha said, her voice trembling at the admission that Sunset might not open her eyes once more. “And as her friend and comrade… it is my duty to keep vigil over her until the gods decide her fate. In my kingdom, it is a sacred charge; I would be shamed if I turned my back on it for any reason so petty as my own safety.”

Professor Ozpin continued to stare at her before he said, “Very well, Miss Nikos, I would not wish to stand in the way of Mistralian traditions.”

Pyrrha bowed. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Professor-?” Ruby began.

“Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said, with a significant glance towards the waiting nurse.

Ruby huffed resignedly and followed the nurse back down the corridor the way she had come.

Professor Ozpin looked after her, as if he wished to make sure that she was going where she was supposed to go, before he returned his attention to Pyrrha and Jaune. “You were saying, Miss Nikos, before Miss Rose joined us?”

“Professor?”

“The cost of an education through combat school, and at Beacon?” Professor Ozpin reminded her.

“Ah, yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “How many lien do you think the bomb that has put Sunset in the hospital cost, Professor?”

“Have you not always known that the best huntsmen can be laid low by even a single grimm?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Is there so much difference to being bested by a bomb?”

“A huntsman can train to avoid being bested by a single grimm, Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “But a bomb… if a hero can fail so easily in the face of such a thing, then… what good is a hero?”

“Are we speaking of Miss Shimmer, Miss Nikos, or yourself?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Pyrrha hesitated. “Both of us, Professor,” she admitted. “I am not sure that Sunset would yet call herself a hero, but she without a doubt believes – and rightly, I think – that she possesses the greatness of one. And I myself… I am so vain of my prowess. And yet… Sunset could not save herself, and I could not save Sunset.”

She felt Jaune place his hands upon her shoulders. “Maybe,” he ventured. “Maybe it’s just not that kind of world any more. Maybe… maybe this isn’t a story and there are no heroes, not the way there were, if they were ‘the way they were’ because it never was a story to begin with.”

“All our lives are made of stories, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said, in tones of gentle but unmistakable reproach. “The stories that we tell ourselves to motivate us when the darkness falls and the cold sets in; the stories that we tell of ourselves, the legends that we spin for good or ill; the tales that are told of us by others, that go before our coming and which linger after we are gone.”

“But that doesn’t mean that things will always work out the way they do in stories or comic books, does it, Professor?” Jaune asked.

“No, Mister Arc, you are correct in that; the world is not always so kind,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “And yet, are stories always so kind? Are there not stories where the hero perishes before their time?”

“Struck down by a great foe,” Pyrrha declared. “Defeated in single combat or in the chaotic press of battle against many foes. Not slain by so dishonourable means as-”

“A knife in the dark?” Professor Ozpin suggested. “Their throat slit while they slept?”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. “You are not wrong, Professor.”

“And you should not be so disheartened, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “It is true that so many thousands of lien of education may fall to a ten lien explosive device, but it has always been so that a shining hero may die a mean death unworthy of their life. Is it not said in Mistral that the mightiest warrior may be slain by a single arrow?”

Pyrrha nodded, if only a little. “It is, Professor. I suppose I had not taken it to heart until now. And still I wonder… still I return to my original question, if that is so – and even more so now – then to what end do we train so hard, if these mean threats can bring us down, and those close and dear to us?”

“Because there are other worlds, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “This world in which I am afraid you have become momentarily embroiled is but one world: a world of narrow streets and knives in the shadows and, yes, explosive devices that make mock of the pretensions of Mistralian chivalry and those who would be heroes. It is a world for criminals and for the officers of the law who confront them in the darkness. Those officers may on occasion make use of the services of huntsmen, but, in my opinion at least, huntsmen do not belong here. But, as I said, there are other worlds: worlds of monsters, of the heroes who confront them.

“The heroes who are needed to confront them.” Once more Professor Ozpin paused. “There once was such a hero,” he said, “considered by some to be the greatest of his day, although I would not go so far. He fought many battles and defeated many enemies, but he died not in glorious combat, not in battle fighting for the justice for which he had so often risked his life, but in his bed, sweating and feverish. But he was no less a hero for it, and the cities that he saved and the… the maidens that he rescued were no less redeemed from peril because his end was not as glorious as his life. And even if Miss Shimmer should perish here in this hospital, even if you should meet your end in ignominious fashion, Miss Nikos, nevertheless, the deeds you both have done and the deeds – gods willing – that you will yet do will live on in spite of that fact. Take heart from that, Miss Nikos, and remember it whenever you feel such doubts as these creeping in. The world still has great need of you, and of Miss Shimmer, and of those like you.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Thank you, Professor,” she murmured. “That is… that will be a comforting thought if only Sunset lives to do more deeds hereafter.”

“I hope that she will,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “With all my heart.”

“As do I,” Pyrrha said.

“We all do,” Jaune added.

“I had no doubts of that,” Professor Ozpin declared, a slight touch of jollity entering his voice, but only very little in the circumstances. “It is a kind thing that you are doing, Miss Nikos, and when Miss Shimmer wakes, I am sure she will appreciate it.”

“When Sunset wakes, Professor, I think she will be offended that Ruby and Jaune are not there,” Pyrrha suggested.

Professor Ozpin gave a light chuckle. “Perhaps she will, Miss Nikos, but I daresay that I can bear Miss Shimmer’s irritation.” He chuckled again. “Take care of yourself, Miss Nikos. This world is no Mistralian arena.”

“I know, Professor, and I will be on my guard, for myself and for Sunset,” Pyrrha replied. If there is danger yet, that makes it all the more important that she should not be alone with only disinterested police officers to guard her. “Professor, may Jaune bring me a few things from our dorm room? My weapons, an overnight bag?”

Professor Ozpin considered that, or seemed to do so, “Yes,” he said, “provided that you return to Beacon immediately afterwards, Mister Arc.”

Jaune nodded. “I will, Professor,” he said, not sounding entirely happy about it. He looked at Pyrrha. He still had his hands upon her shoulders. “Are you going to be okay on your own? I mean, I know that it sounds stupid asking, when you’re, well, you, but-”

“But we just established that this is not… my world,” Pyrrha murmured, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly through his hair. “But I must stay, for Sunset’s sake; I cannot leave her alone.” And for my own sake, I cannot run from a grubby-handed felon with a skill at bomb-making, else I would be shamed before the great-hearted folk of Mistral, unworthy either to call myself their champion or to be a huntress. She did not voice that last part; it sounded right and proper and even a little stirring inside her head, but Pyrrha had a feeling that if she said it aloud, it would only verge on the ridiculous. “I will take care, of both of us.”

The corners of Jaune’s lips twitched. “You’d better,” he said, and bent down for a moment to plant a kiss upon her lips. “What is that you want? Weapons, what else?”

“My shampoo, a flannel, toothpaste, toothbrush, that sort of thing,” Pyrrha said. “And my copy of The Mistraliad, please.”

“Of course,” Jaune whispered. “I’ll bring them down to you as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.” Pyrrha blinked, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. “Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Nikos?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“What… was the name of the hero you mentioned?” Pyrrha asked. “I confess that I do not recall the tale.”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “His name,” he mused. “His name…” He smiled sheepishly. “Ozma,” he said. “I confess, when I was a boy, I was drawn to him because his name sounded a little like my own.”

“Ozma,” Pyrrha repeated. “I confess that I have not heard of him.”

“There is no reason why you should, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied, gently and genially in equal measure. “Come along, Mister Arc. Miss Nikos.”

“Professor,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head as the Professor took his leave. She smiled at Jaune as he departed and waved a little when he – getting further away – turned back towards her.

And as they left, Pyrrha could not help but wonder how it was that so great a man, considered the greatest of his day while he lived, could fall into obscurity after his death.

However it had happened, it was a great tragedy to rival his inglorious passing.

Pyrrha pushed such thoughts aside. They were of little use now. Now… now she had a call to make.

Not one that she would have made in different circumstances, but one that in these circumstances she could not avoid.

Sunset didn’t speak of her family, at all. Pyrrha assumed, based on what Sunset did say about her past, that her parents had died before she had a chance to know them and that she had been raised by the teacher she spoke of, the one who had trained her in magic and whom Sunset had run away from. She lived beyond the kingdoms, which vague term was all the description Sunset gave, and Pyrrha had no way of getting in touch with her.

Sunset had no other relatives, to Pyrrha’s knowledge, but Pyrrha did know of one person outside of the team and their fellow students who cared about Sunset and who would grieve at her passing.

Pyrrha walked into Sunset’s room, empty in her absence, and called her mother.

Her breathing was deep while the scroll rang, her breast heaving up and down as the device vibrated in her hands.

At last, her mother’s face appeared on the screen, unchanged in Pyrrha’s absence. “Pyrrha,” she said, her voice sounding almost breathless. “I… when I saw your name upon the scroll, I confess I did not know whether to believe it.”

Pyrrha swallowed. “I… It is I,” she said, and felt very stupid for having said it because of course it was her, who else would it have been? “But I did not call to speak of myself, Mother, still less of Jaune or aught else concerning us or Mistral or… anything at all of that nature.”

Disappointment flashed in Lady Nikos’ green eyes. “I see,” she said softly. She stared out of the scroll, momentarily silent. “I hope I may be forgiven for asking, that being the case, what you do wish to discuss with me.”

“I… Sunset has been hurt, and I thought you…” she hesitated, torn between ‘I thought you should know’ and ‘I thought you would want to know.’ “And you are the only person not presently at Beacon whom I thought might care.”

The tremble of Lady Nikos’ lower lip was barely notable, and yet Pyrrha noted. “Wounded?” she repeated. “How, and how badly?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “A bomb… while we were out shopping.”

“'We'?” Lady Nikos said. “Were you injured also?”

“Is that all that you care about?!” Pyrrha snapped. “Doesn’t it matter that Sunset-?”

“Do not presume to tell me what does and does not matter to myself!” Lady Nikos snapped right back at her. She drew in a sharp intake of breath. “You think me cold and cruel, you presume me to be heartless and without compassion. You are wrong, and sorely mistake for callousness what is but deep concern, but my affection for Miss Shimmer does not change the fact that you are my heir and the future of our line; I am entitled to know if you-”

“I’m fine!” Pyrrha cried. “I wasn’t there! I… I arrived late, Jaune and I arrived late. I was too late. And now Sunset…”

Lady Nikos’ expression softened as she waited for Pyrrha to continue. Only when Pyrrha did not continue did Lady Nikos ask, “How is she?”

“Comatose,” Pyrrha replied.

“Rendered so by the wounds of her body?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “They think it must be in her mind.”

Lady Nikos frowned. “I will make an offering to Seraphis for her recovery,” she said. “A bomb, you say?”

Pyrrha nodded. “A bomb.”

“A coward’s weapon,” Lady Nikos growled. “That is no end for a warrior as brilliant as Miss Shimmer is.”

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Those were my thoughts exactly.” She sighed. “Professor Ozpin gave me some very kind words, but at the same time, he could not hide the fact that the old ways… they are of little use in a modern world. Only in battle against the grimm is there still need for-”

“For what?” Lady Nikos demanded. “For dazzling skill at arms? For honour, courage, and devotion? Professor Ozpin may have a great reputation, but in this, I think he is mistaken. Yes, it is true that there are battlefields in which one cannot see the foe, but when old Lord Rutulus, Turnus’ father, was gunned down by his own officers, there were many here in Mistral quick to proclaim that honour had died with him; what had it gotten so noble a man but an early grave which left his children orphans? But it was our Mistralian way, our traditions of honour and vengeance, and the devotion which a good man inspired in his faithful retainer which inspired Miss Volsci to bring his killers and all the rest who had orchestrated his death to justice.

“What new wisdom, what ‘modern’ outlook in vogue in Atlas would have enabled Miss Shimmer to have seen the bomb before it exploded? What greater perception would less courtly a manner have granted her? Where are you now?”

“I-” Pyrrha stammered, thrown a little by the abruptness of the question. “I am in the hospital. I mean to keep vigil by Sunset’s side, until either she awakes or… until she wakes.”

“And if she does not?” Lady Nikos asked.

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Then I will avenge her,” she declared. “As Camilla once avenged Lord Rutulus.”

Lady Nikos nodded. “And there you have it, that which Professor Ozpin does not see or failed to mention: the honour of a hero will not protect them from bombs or bullets in the back, but it will draw to them those who will stay by their side when strength deserts them, and call avenging furies forth from beyond the grave.”

“I hope with all my heart it does not come to that,” Pyrrha whispered.

Lady Nikos nodded. “As do I.”

Flash's expression was grim as they pulled up into the hospital parking lot. He had looked that way on the whole drive over from the White Fang safe house. He hadn't spoken since they got the news, had only nodded in mute acknowledgement as Lieutenant Martinez had taken Flash and Weiss with her to the hospital, leaving Cardin and Russel behind with Mallard to wait for other units to give the safe house a thorough search.

He sat in the back, silent, staring at something that wasn't there, his hands sometimes clenching and then unclenching again, not saying a word.

He slammed the door of the car shut as he climbed out.

As he began to walk towards the hospital, he was arrested by the voice of Lieutenant Martinez. "Hold up a second," she instructed as she shut the door with a little less force than Flash had used. She crossed the car towards the two students. "Sunset Shimmer, she's a friend of yours?"

"She's a student in our year," Weiss replied, hoping to protect Flash's privacy.

"A student in your year, I'm sure she is," Lieutenant Martinez said. "But some of the girls I went to school with, I would have danced at their funeral, not… this!" she waved her hand up and down Flash. "You're close, right?"

"No," Flash replied. "Not exactly, we… it's complicated."

"You mean you broke up," Lieutenant Martinez said.

Flash blinked. "How-?"

"I may look old to you now, but I still remember being a teenager well enough to know what 'it's complicated' means," Lieutenant Martinez. "You broke her heart and now that she might die, you're very sorry for how you behaved; am I off-base?"

"Does any of that matter?" Weiss demanded. "Don't you think that that is prying a little too much?"

Lieutenant Martinez gave Weiss an uncomfortably knowing look. "Some officers would have pulled you off this case the moment it became clear that we were going after the scumbag who killed your father; some officers would pull you now. Me, I think there are things that we have to do before we can sleep at night, things that if we sit on the sidelines and let other people do the work, then we can't live with ourselves afterwards. But if we're going to catch this guy, then I need you – all of you – at your best, not brooding over what might have been or wondering if you made the right call-"

"Did we?" Flash demanded. "Did we make the right calls? If that's so, then how come we haven't caught The Purifier yet, how come Sunset is…?"

"Regrets are a ball and chain, Flash; they'll slow you right down if you let them," Lieutenant Martinez told him, her voice not unsympathetic but firm all the same. "If you really think that you did anything wrong, then learn from it and do better next time. If you really think that I did anything wrong, then tell me, and I might even agree with you, and I will do better next time. But sometimes… we play catch up in this job; we're lucky if we know what the bad guys are planning before they do it, and sometimes, even when we do know what they're up to, we still can't stop them until they try and do it because we've got no evidence. We play catch-up, and sometimes, we don't catch up in time. But we keep running, or else there'll be even more victims down the line. More bombs. More explosions. So are you ready to go to work?"

Flash hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. "I'm ready to catch this guy," he said.

"Good," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Then let's go."

They head across the car park and into the hospital, avoiding the ambulances that pulled up outside the entrance to disgorge their patients on their stretchers. A woman stood just beyond the glass doors, speaking loudly into her scroll about the pitiful condition of her father; her face was red, and there were tears in her eyes, and Weiss felt embarrassed and a little ashamed to be able to hear and see her in that condition; it felt indecent to be intruding on such a private thing as grief.

She was grateful to leave the woman behind, to plunge past the sick and the injured waiting in the Accident and Emergency into the sterile-smelling corridors of the hospital, brushing past nurses with guarded expressions and swift strides as they sought out Sunset's room.

They found the room, devoid of Sunset, although Pyrrha was there, standing with her back to the window, facing the doorway.

"Pyrrha?" Flash asked.

"Flash, Weiss," Pyrrha said politely. To Lieutenant Martinez she said, "Are you a police officer?"

"Lieutenant Martinez, Flying Squad," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "I'm Sunset's teammate."

"Where is Sunset?" Flash asked.

"They're doing some scans," Pyrrha said softly.

Flash swallowed. "'Scans.' That… doesn't sound good."

"If fate is kind, it may help determine why she hasn't woken up yet," Pyrrha replied. "Professor Ozpin has allowed me to wait with her until she does." Her green eyes flickered towards Lieutenant Martinez. "I'm told that some police officers will be arriving to protect her in case this turned out to be targeted."

Lieutenant Martinez nodded. "Some uniforms are on their way."

Pyrrha nodded. "Do you… do you really believe that this was a targeted attack?"

"I can't think why else someone would want to blow up a fabric store in The Elephant," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And I'm going to level with you, Pyrrha: there's a White Fang bomber in town, and you don't need me to tell you that they have reason to hold a grudge against you."

"But it still doesn't make any sense," Weiss said. "Attacking a team of huntsmen, it's hardly an act of mass terrorism, is it? Beyond the fact of a bombing itself, it… to be blunt, and without meaning any insult or disrespect to Sunset, it hardly affects anyone." It wasn't like the murder of a beloved actress and respected director; it wasn't like striking at the image and substance of Atlesian power. It was shocking to those who knew Sunset, but would those who didn't even take any notice?

"There'll be a reason for it; we just haven't worked it out yet," Lieutenant Martinez replied. "Is there anything that you can tell us?"

Pyrrha's brow furrowed with thought. "I'm not sure. I wasn't in the store; I only saw the explosion from outside… but I did see a woman leave the store before the explosion."

"A woman?" Lieutenant Martinez said. "Did you recognise her?"

"No," Pyrrha replied. "She was a faunus, but I couldn't tell… she had ears of some kind, but she was too far away for me to say if they were cat or dog or pony or something else. Ruby might be able to tell you more, or even Blake; she wasn't with us then, but she'd been to the store with Ruby before today."

Blake and Ruby could, in fact, tell them more, including the fact that the woman who had left the shop was a fox faunus, that she had been there the last time when Blake and Ruby were in the store, and even a sketch drawn by Blake – who turned out to be a surprisingly good artist on top of everything else – of the woman in question. Armed with all this, but still lacking a name, Lieutenant Martinez… took them to a pub.

"This," Lieutenant Martinez said, as she pulled up her car outside of the Rose and Crown public house, about one street over from the bombed out store, "is the nearest bar to Dunoaks; you know what that means?" On seeing the blank expressions on the faces of Weiss and Flash as they got out of the car, Lieutenant Martinez explained. "It means that it's the obvious place to get a drink after work. Hopefully, we can find out who she is and find out a little bit about her into the bargain."

The Rose and Crown was a traditional looking place from the outside, with unpainted wooden window frames and a wall that look like it was old-fashioned stonework rather than brick; that impression of sturdy traditionalism continued inside the bar as well, with oak-panelled walls and fire-darkened beams running across the ceiling and a lever rifle hanging up behind the wooden bar. It was beginning to enter the late afternoon, but the pub was not yet starting to fill up; Weiss guessed – she had no direct knowledge – that it was still too early in the day for most people to have quit work. Nevertheless, there were a few people, mostly older men in flat caps and dark overcoats, sat at the round wooden tables, drinking pints of golden ale from large glass tankards, smoking while they read the newspapers – in print! Weiss hadn't known that anyone still did that anymore.

Behind the bar stood a middle-aged man, a cat faunus with a bald head and a black tail curling up behind his back. As Weiss, Flash, and Lieutenant Martinez approached the bar, he put aside the glass he had been polishing and said, "Afternoon, folks, what can I get you?"

"I'll have a large whiskey," Lieutenant Martinez said, flashing her badge. "And some information."

The bartender's eyebrows rose. "Right," he said, some of the genial tone vanishing from his voice. "And you, officers?"

"That's a good point; how old are you two?" Lieutenant Martinez asked. "Have you turned eighteen yet?"

"Not yet," Flash admitted. "Not until July."

"I have," Weiss said.

"When?" Flash asked.

"Not long after the semester started."

"You didn't mention it," Flash told her. "We could have, I don't know, thrown you a party or something."

"I'm not really very fond of parties," Weiss murmured, looking away from him. It had not always been the case; when she had been younger – up until she was ten years old – she had been blessed with not one but two birthday parties every year, a rather stifling and joyless affair in the evening which she had had never particularly looked forward to, and one in the afternoon, the one to which she had always looked forward, the one which Klein and Laberna made so much fun. That one had stopped the year after her father's mask had fallen off, revealing the truth about his advantageous marriage to the heiress of the Schnee name. It had been about that time that Weiss had understood why she found her evening party so dull: because it wasn't really about her at all. She was just a breathing prop, an excuse for her father to throw a soiree where he could flaunt his wealth, lobby with Councillors and Generals, and demonstrate who was out of favour with him by pointedly not inviting them. Sometimes, she would be asked to sing so that her voice might be praised, and in later years, people had begun to praise her looks, but for the most part, she might as well have been an ice sculpture propped up in the middle of the ballroom.

Compared to that, letting her birthday pass without notice had been a blessing.

"Okay, the little lady will have a small whiskey to break her in," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And the kid will have an orange juice. Tough luck, kid."

"Actually, I'll have an orange juice as well, thank you," Weiss said. "It's…" – she glanced at Lieutenant Martinez – "it's a little early."

The expression on the face of Lieutenant Martinez was more amused than offended, thank goodness; she looked as though she might almost laugh, but did not while the bartender got their drinks.

"Now then," he said, leaning on the bar, "what can I help you with?"

Lieutenant Martinez drank half her whiskey down in one go before she took out the sketch of the suspect that Blake had drawn. "You recognise this woman?"

"Yeah, I know her; that's Brick Featherstone. Was she involved in that explosion? Is she-?"

"We're trying to find her," Lieutenant Martinez said. "You know her then? Does she come in here?"

"She used to," the bartender said. "Until I had to bar her."

"What for?" Lieutenant Martinez asked. "Did she do something?"

"Do? No. It's what she said that made me kick her out," the bartender replied. "Look, this is a pub; you expect people to run their mouths and start setting the world to rights. I'd be a little worried if they didn't. But when you start talking about how the only good human is a dead human… this isn't a faunus-only pub; I have human customers as well, and they were going to start going elsewhere if Brick kept stinking up the place with her ideas. That, or someone was going to kick her head in outside."

"And that wouldn't have been good for business either," Lieutenant Martinez said, as she finished off her whiskey.

"Did you call the police?" Flash asked.

"About what?" the bartender asked.

"About all of her rhetoric!" Flash cried.

The bartender scoffed. "And tell them what, that one of my customers was letting off steam? Brick was just full of hot air."

"Nobody expects you to rat on your customers, don't worry," Lieutenant Martinez said, before Flash could point out that Brick had not, in fact, been full of hot air. "Thank you for your time; you've been very helpful." She turned and headed towards the door, leaving Weiss and Flash to follow hastily after her.

"If anybody had told somebody what she was saying-" Flash began, as they left the Rose and Crown and headed back to the lieutenant's car.

"I don't know how things are in Atlas, but here in Vale, it is the gods-given right of every citizen to complain their ass off in their local bar without snitches scurrying around taking note of every inappropriate thing to come out of our mouths," Lieutenant Martinez said. "And frankly, that's a good thing. I have enough real work to do without having to chase down loudmouths or worry about whether I should turn in my neighbours for thought crimes."

Flash frowned. "I'm not talking about… you're taking things to an absurd degree. Eliminationist rhetoric-"

"Doesn't mean a thing, without a crime," Lieutenant Martinez interrupted. "Ultimately, the bartender's right: nine out of ten people who run their mouths like that will never have the guts to do anything about it."

"And the one in ten?" Flash demanded.

Martinez was silent for a moment. "Then we play catch up," she admitted. "Just like we do with all the crimes that people are smart enough not to talk about where everyone can hear them." She got out her scroll. "Russel! I need details on a Brick Featherstone. I doubt she went back to her apartment so car registration, relatives, anything like that you can find."

“Give me a second, Lieutenant,” Russel said on the other end of the line, and Weiss could hear him tapping on the keyboard. There was a moment of silence. “Uh… what do I do once I’ve found it?”

“Put out an alert to all units to be on the lookout for her,” Lieutenant Martinez said.

“Will do.”

“And what about us?” Flash asked. “What do we do?”

“We play catch up,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “And try to work out where they’ll strike next – before they do it.”

Sunset was back from her tests. The doctors wouldn’t tell Pyrrha what, if anything, they had found, but mostly, that was because she hadn’t seen a doctor. Nurses and orderlies had brought Sunset back to her room, without a doctor in sight. Doubtless, they were aware of the results of the tests, and doubtless too, they had many patients to occupy their time.

All the same, she wished that one of them would have told her something.

Pyrrha stood at Sunset’s bedside, looking down at her unconscious leader. She did not stir. She did not wake. She simply lay there, blind to Pyrrha’s presence and to all else besides. She did not wake.

She might never…

Pyrrha shook her head slightly. She could not give up hope, for hope had not fled. Sunset yet lived, and yet would live, and open her eyes and lead the team once more.

Jaune had already been by, and so, Miló and Akoúo̱ were slung across her back. In her heart, she felt better for having them there, for feeling their familiar weight; in her head, she wondered if that emotional comfort were all they brought her, and no practical benefit at all.

If the White Fang try to finish what they started, they will be of great use to me.

If they come with arms, not if they come with a bomb as they did before.

How would the White Fang get a bomb inside a hospital?

How do I know they could not? What do I know about bombs?

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. She did not like this. She did not like any part of this. She did not like… she did not like this world, as Professor Ozpin had called it. No matter what her mother might say about the values of their ways, the fact remained that the headmaster was correct: she did not belong here; she was not suited to confront these menaces.

She was made for battles of a more open and unambiguous sort.

I am a hero of rather limited utility, it seems. I am more my namesake than I am a Dolon or an Aegiale.

Small wonder that, because of all the heroes of the Mistraliad, it was those two, the proponents of every bit of sneakiness and skulduggery on the part of Elusinians, that she admired the least. She was inclined to agree with the tragedians of later centuries that Dolon, in particular, had been a thoroughgoing cad and quite untrustworthy.

And yet, it was his cunning – and not the valour or the wrath of her great namesake – that had won the war and burnt the topless towers of Mistral.

Perhaps there was a lesson there for her.

Pyrrha’s eyes fell on the copy of the Mistraliad that Jaune had brought her, sitting on the table by Sunset’s bedside. She had brought it to read to Sunset, hoping that the tale might in some way penetrate Sunset’s consciousness; it occurred to her now that she might gain some benefit from reading it in her own right.

Pyrrha took a step closer to the table and, with one gloved hand, reached out and plucked the book up from its resting place.

A note fell out of it to land upon the floor.

Pyrrha frowned at it as she bent down to pluck it up from there. She set the book back down where she had got it and opened up the folded note.

She recognised Sunset’s handwriting, elegant and curved but with the words having a tendency to roll into one another, as though Sunset sometimes forgot not to join up all the letters.

Dear Pyrrha,

If you’re reading this, then I am dead.

Actually, no, I can’t guarantee that.

With my having hid this note in your favourite book, I am aware that there’s a risk that you will simply decide to pick up the Mistraliad one day and find this. If so, I can only ask you to put it back and not make a big deal out of it. I couldn’t just give you a letter to be opened in the event of my death; it would have been really awkward, and I had to put it somewhere that you’d find it but at the same time somewhere you wouldn’t find it the day after I put it there.

My choices were limited is all that I’m saying.

Anyway, the reason why I’m writing this is because, well, I think that ought to be obvious. For your reference, I wrote this after we got back from the train job, when I almost died, but I probably should have written it sooner. This is a dangerous line of work we’re in; it’s like Benni Haven says: most of the teams with a photo on that wall have lost at least one person, and if that has to hold true for us as well, then I would much, much rather it be me than anyone else.

If I have to die saving you, or Ruby, or Jaune, then I will.

(Conversely, if you’re reading this, and I’m not dead yet, I’m putting you on notice: if you die before me, I will find my way into the afterlife and kick your ass!)

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand to escape the snorting giggle that threatened to escape her mouth and nose alike. She hesitated, lowering the note for a moment, wondering whether she ought to read on or not. After all, Sunset was not dead yet.

But she…

Pyrrha didn’t want to think about it, but at the same time, just putting the note back and pretending that she’d never seen it… she was too curious to do so; she had to read on, she had to find out what Sunset had to say.

Even if… even if it turned out to be her last word.

So, anyway, this is my letter to you to be read in the event of my death. No, I haven’t written to Jaune or Ruby. Jaune is a good guy, and you’re lucky to have him, but he and I aren’t that close, and while I love Ruby, I can’t speak seriously with her about things the way that I can talk to you.

I think that’s partly because, as much as I care about Ruby, you get me more than she does; but I should probably admit that it’s also because I see her as a kid, even if that is really unfair to her.

So, I’m dead. I hope it was a glorious death. I shall be very disappointed if it was something ignominious.

Oh, Sunset, Pyrrha thought. Please wake up. You must wake up, if only to avoid that disappointment.

I don’t know who makes these choices, or if my word will carry any weight at all with those who do, but if it does make any difference, I want you to take over as team leader.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Are you surprised? Ruby is too reckless by half; she needs a restraining influence to stop her from running off and getting herself killed. I’m serious about this, Pyrrha, I worry about her sometimes. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead by mentioning where I think it comes from, but our Ruby is too in love with the idea of dying nobly for my liking. I don’t ask you to protect her in battle, but when it comes to going into battle or not, someone – and if I’m not around it will have to be you – might need to hold her back a little.

As Pyrrha turned over the page to read what was written on the other side, she had to admit that Sunset had a point. Ruby… Pyrrha worried about her too, sometimes. Even what had happened in the forest didn’t seem to have changed anything with her. It didn’t seem like she intended to do anything different. It was as though Ruby Rose valued every life except her own.

Although I’m not sure what you expect me to be able to do about that, Sunset.

She resumed reading.

Jaune is, as I’ve said, a good boy, and he has a good head on his shoulders. You’d be wise to trust his strategic acumen; he has more wisdom than I think he realises. But I’m not sure he has it in him to deny either of you, especially not you. He loves you, and while that’s wonderful, he would do anything that you asked him to do, and even if he were made leader, he’d still rely on you because you’re so much more skilled than he is. That being the case, you might as well be the leader with him as your second. Besides which, strategy is only part of a leader’s job; the other part, maybe the bigger part, is to inspire one’s teammates.

I don’t know if I’m that good at that, although I try my best. I flatter myself that I can speak well enough, but I sometimes worry that I can’t put real heart into the words that I say.

You don’t have that problem. You might not be as natural a speaker as Ruby is, but you always speak from the heart, and as steeped as you are in the lore of old Mistral, you can speak with a poet’s tongue when the fancy takes you.

Seriously, I could listen to you all day.

Ruby is the heart of our team, but you are the soul. You exemplify to all the best traditions that we as would-be heroes strive to uphold. Of all us, you are the one who demonstrates most clearly what it is to be a huntress, in my eyes anyway.

Sunset, you give me too much credit by many leagues.

You only need to have a little more faith in yourself. You are the Princess Without a Crown, descended from a line of heroes; have some confidence! Only go forward in the knowledge that you are the Invincible Girl and nobody ought to mess with you, and you will do very well.

On a more practical note, I don’t want you to hold off on recruiting a fourth member of the team out of respect for me or anything like that. As much as it would be touching if you did, I’d rather the team was at full strength; you can remember me by remembering me, not by putting an underscore somewhere in the team name. I recommend you try and poach Blake from Team YRBN; it will keep her from going to Atlas, and we deserve her more than they do after our prior association, and it will give you a terrifyingly formidable line-up. I recommend PBAR as a name, pronounced ‘Pear’.

If necessary, challenge Yang to single combat with the winner getting Blake on their team. And don’t hold back!

I believe in you!

In that, and in everything else.

If it was not for as long as I would have liked, I am very glad that I got the chance to be your friend.

I am a better person for having known you.

Take care of them, and take care of yourself.

You will do great things, I know it.

Sunset Shimmer

PS: Call your mother!

By the time that she was done reading, Pyrrha’s tears were starting to land upon the paper, but at the same time she was having to stifle laughter as well.

Oh, Sunset.

You really are so… so wonderful.

I suppose… how could I refuse your last request like this? I will lead, if I can, and I will challenge Yang to a fight, although goodness knows how Blake will react to that.

I will do it… I will do it because you ask it of me, but I would rather not.

I would much rather you woke up.

Please wake up.

I… do not have your faith that we can do this without you.

Pyrrha snapped round, her whole body turning towards the door as she felt someone coming, her aura alerting her to the presence of other people with aura approaching.

She let Sunset’s note fall from her hand, and she gingerly began to reach for Miló.

The door into Sunset’s room slid open to reveal Rainbow Dash and Blake.

Pyrrha sighed. “Oh! It’s you.” She lowered her hand to her side. “I’m sorry, but I… I suppose that I’m a little jumpy at the moment.”

“That’s understandable,” Blake murmured as the two of them walked in. The gaze of her golden eyes alighted on Sunset, and her voice remained soft and quiet as she said, “How is she?”

“She won’t wake,” Pyrrha said, in tones of equal quietness.

“But she will?” Blake asked.

Pyrrha hesitated. “That… isn’t certain.”

“Yeah, it is,” Rainbow said, as she shut the door behind them. “Sunset won’t die without getting the last word in.”

Pyrrha snorted, and wiped away the tears from her eyes with one hand. “I might agree with you, except that she’s already found a way to get the last word anyway.” She picked up the note that she had dropped, raising it up so that both of them could see it. “I found this in my book. It’s a letter from Sunset… in the event of her death.”

Rainbow’s face fell. “Right. I guess that… yeah.”

Blake frowned as she walked behind Pyrrha and around the bed, so that she was standing on Sunset’s other side. “I can’t imagine Sunset doing something like that.” She paused. “Mind you, I have a hard time imagining anyone doing something like that. It sounds so… maudlin.”

“It’s not that weird,” Rainbow replied. “I’ve recorded a video for the girls just in case. The General agreed to hold onto it for me. And I know that Ciel’s got a letter; it’s with her priest in Atlas.”

Blake looked at her. “Doesn’t it seem a little… fatalistic?”

“No, because it’s not like we’re planning to roll over and die,” Rainbow insisted. “It’s just that this is dangerous… we might not always get to tell the people we love how we feel before… you know.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I suppose,” she conceded softly. “Perhaps it’s just that… I didn’t have anyone to write to before.”

“Sunset’s letter is not quite a last confession of her feelings,” Pyrrha said. “It’s more of a list of instructions. Her last commands, if you will.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right for Sunset.” She grinned. “Can you tell us what’s in it?”

“Rainbow Dash,” Blake murmured disapprovingly.

“I…” Pyrrha wondered whether she would be breaking confidence by doing this, but then in a sense, she’d already disobeyed Sunset’s instructions by reading it before Sunset was dead. “Sunset gives me her voice in the succession as team leader,” she said. “I’m supposed to challenge Yang to a duel over you, Blake, so that you can fill Sunset’s place on our team and not go to Atlas.”

Blake stared at Pyrrha for a moment. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“I’m not sure whether I ought to wish I was,” Pyrrha replied.

Blake continued to stare. Slowly, a smile began to crinkle her mouth.

Pyrrha smiled back. A little giggle escaped from her mouth.

Blake shook her head. “She is-”

“Impossible,” Pyrrha finished for her. “And completely wonderful at the same time.”

Blake looked back down at Sunset. She reached out and took the unconscious Sunset’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. She looked up, and into Rainbow’s eyes. “I owe you an apology too.”

Rainbow frowned. “Why?”

“The White Fang did this,” Blake said. “The White Fang always did this, and I defended it, and I looked the other way, and-”

“And you left because you knew that it was wrong,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“All the same,” Blake replied, turning to Rainbow. “No wonder you hated the things that I said when we first met.”

“Well…” Rainbow looked away. “It hits different when it's people you know.”

Blake nodded. “It shouldn’t.” she whispered, in a tone as melancholy as the breeze which blows through a ruined castle, whispering in the broken archway.

“Maybe not, but it does,” Rainbow replied. “We wouldn’t be down here if it was someone other than Sunset in this bed, you wouldn’t be saying this if it was someone other than Sunset, and… well, if it weren’t for the Wedding, I wouldn’t have flown off the handle at you the way I did. It’s all… forget it, okay? This isn’t your fault.”

“Not this time,” Blake muttered darkly.

Rainbow ignored that. “Has… has Flash been by?” she asked. “I know that Twilight let him know what happened.”

Pyrrha nodded. “He came. With a police officer.”

“Huh?”

“Team Wisteria are shadowing some detectives on a training mission,” Pyrrha explained. “I wish them good fortune in an arena for which… we huntsmen may be ill-suited.” She looked at Rainbow. “Rainbow Dash, may I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“All the technology that you Atlesians possess, the airships, the weapons, the bombs… does it ever make you feel unnecessary?”

Rainbow blinked. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

“Because she’s feeling inadequate because she couldn’t save Sunset,” Blake declared. “Aren’t you?”

Pyrrha smiled sheepishly. “Am I so transparent?”

“It’s more that we’re so alike,” Blake explained. “I’d feel the same if I’d been there. I still do feel the same. If I had known more, if I’d been able to give the police more useful information, then maybe they would have caught The Purifier more quickly.”

“I’m sure you told them everything,” Pyrrha said.

“That doesn’t mean that I told them enough,” Blake replied. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “I’m sure that you did everything you could, too.”

Pyrrha’s mouth opened, but she did not reply, not for a few moments, when she admitted, “Point taken.”

“You can’t save the world alone,” Rainbow said. “Not even you, even if you are the best I’ve ever seen. That’s why we have the tech, and the missiles, and the airships.”

Pyrrha did not reply. She could recognise, on a certain intellectual level, that Rainbow was speaking the truth, but on the other hand… it cut against everything that she had been told growing up, everything that she’d come to believe, everything that she held dear.

How can I save the world if I can’t save my friend?

And if I can’t save the world, then what good am I?

She was nothing but a weapon, and a weapon that was starting to seem inadequate for the world into which it had been fashioned.

Blake said, “Would you like me to stay here with you? With Sunset?”

“Sunset would like that,” Pyrrha said. “And I would welcome it, but I’m not sure Professor Ozpin would be so keen on the idea.”

“We could call it a mission for Atlas,” Rainbow suggested.

Pyrrha looked at her. “What kind of mission for Atlas would justify staying by Sunset’s hospital bed?”

Rainbow opened her mouth, but said nothing. “I… don’t know,” she admitted.

“It turns out it doesn’t matter anyway,” Blake said, looking at her scroll. “I’ve just got a text. The police want me to come in.”

Cardin folded his arms across his chest. In front of him, pinned to a board on the wall of the Basement’s squad room, was a map of Remnant, with pins of various colours tacked into it representing bombings attributed to The Purifier by Blake.

Oh, yeah, Blake was here. She hadn’t said anything to him since she came in, and he hadn’t said anything to her. It seemed as if it would be better that way. It allowed them both to avoid the awkwardness of, well, he should apologise, but now was hardly the time for it.

Although he wasn’t sure when the time would be, at this point.

But right now, they had a job to do. They needed to find The Purifier before he struck again. Since they had no leads on that, the best idea that Lieutenant Martinez had come up with was to try and work out where he might strike again.

Since it wasn’t as though there was a shortage of targets, what the lieutenant had done was call in Blake to tell them as much about other bombings by The Purifier as possible so that they could try and figure out a pattern.

So far, said pattern was proving elusive.

“Okay,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “From the top. We have Crystal City, the Atlesian R&D base. We have the airship in Argus carrying the actress and the director. We have three attacks on that security firm in Mistral-”

“Rutulian Security,” Blake said. “A private military contractor managed by one of Mistral’s most prominent families. Two bombs at their regional offices went off, killing employees, but a third bomb outside the family estate was discovered and disarmed.”

“Could he be going after celebrities?” Russel asked. “Or prominent people, anyway? I mean, these rich folks in Mistral, the actress and the director, Pyrrha Nikos on Team Sapphire is a celebrity, and you said the captain of that SDC ship-”

“The Fitzgerald,” Blake said.

“Yeah, that one,” Russel said. “You said he was famous, right?”

“More like infamous,” Flash muttered. “When his ship was blown up, he was only just back at sea after his acquittal on a charge of murdering one of his own crewmates, a faunus crewmate, in case that needed saying.”

Russel shrugged. “Fame is fame, isn’t it?”

“Fame doesn’t explain the base at Crystal City,” Flash said.

“What about-?”

“No,” Flash said. “My father wasn’t famous. My mother is known in circles connected with the Council, but not outside of them.”

“So you’re fancy, but not famous,” Russel said. “Got it.”

“Focus,” Lieutenant Martinez told them. “Any other ideas?”

“Institutions,” Weiss said. “The SDC, the Atlesian military, did Rutulian Security have any record of anti-faunus bigotry?”

“No,” Blake said. “The Rutulus family is actually well known in Mistral for how unusually lacking in prejudice it is. The old lord practically adopted a faunus girl.”

“Good for him, but not everyone likes that kind of thing; take it from me,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “My parents got no end of crap from assholes who couldn’t believe that humans could love a faunus child like she deserved.”

“Could they?” Weiss asked.

Lieutenant Martinez turned a gaze on her that would have curdled milk. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that, and you ought to thank me for being so generous.”

Weiss’s cheeks flushed. “I’m only saying that just because someone adopted a faunus child doesn’t mean that they aren’t racist.”

“It doesn’t matter whether they were or weren’t racist; it still doesn’t explain Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom, or Team Sapphire for that matter,” Cardin said. “They weren’t institutions, apart from anything else.”

“Then what does explain it?” Weiss demanded.

Cardin sucked in a sharp intake of breath. He stared at the map, stared at the pins, and imagined what they represented. “Revenge,” he said.

Everyone looked at him. “Go on,” Lieutenant Martinez urged.

Cardin hesitated. He licked his lips. “Blake,” he said, spitting out her name in his nervousness. “You said that the Rutulus family weren’t bigoted, right?”

“That’s right,” Blake said, and he could practically hear the unspoken ‘unlike some people.’

“But Rutulian Security is a private firm, which means they work for clients, right? Did any of their work ever bring them into conflict with the faunus?”

Blake blinked. “I… don’t know.”

“I’m on it,” Russel said, turning his chair around to face the computer as he began to type furiously upon the keys. “Let’s see… let’s see. Hey, Cardin, you’re right. Not long before the first bombing, Rutulian Security had cleared out a faunus commune on public land that had just been sold by the Council; they’d argued that they had squatters rights, but the judge threw out their case and gave the greenlight to evict them by force.”

“Did anything happen to the judge?” Cardin asked. “Or the guy who bought the land?”

“Uh… the judge’s car exploded with him inside; it was ruled an accident due to improper maintenance.”

“My ass it was,” Cardin growled. “What about the new landowner?”

“It was sold to a guy named Timur; nothing happened to him personally, but one of his country houses went up in smoke.”

“How did you know that?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.

“It fits,” Cardin said. “It’s the only thing I can think that fits. Crystal City is where Krasny lived, where he got burned, so he went back there and blew it up. Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom had just finished location shooting in Mistral for the Daring Do movie; at the time-”

“At the time, a lot of faunus rights groups had kicked off because they’d cast a human to play a character who is a faunus in the books,” Lieutenant Martinez said.

Russel looked from Cardin to the lieutenant and then back again. “How do you both know that?”

“Because they’re my kids’ favourite books; we read them together all the time,” Lieutenant Martinez said. Her tone acquired the edge of a growl as she added, “And I had to explain to them why some jackass yelled at them for dressing up as Daring Do for Remnant Book Day.”

“And I… am also a fan,” Cardin added, his voice growing quiet as his cheeks grew pink.

Blake folded her arms. “You are a fan of Daring Do?”

“Are you surprised that I like books with a faunus heroine?”

“I’m a little surprised you can read,” Blake replied.

“My point,” Cardin declared heavily, “is that Crystal City had offended Krasny personally, Chestnut Magnifico and Canter Zoom had offended the faunus, Rutulian Security and the people they worked for had offended the faunus, the captain of the Fitzgerald had killed a faunus and gotten away with it, and Team Sapphire have fought against the White Fang. All his attacks are based on settling scores. I think that’s why he attached Rutulian Security three times: his first bomb didn’t go off, so he had to get them back twice, first for the initial insult and then the second time for foiling his first attempt.”

Weiss frowned. “That sounds rather childish for a master bomb maker.”

He sounds like me, Cardin thought. And Sunset too, but me. How do you think I was able to work it out?

He’s a petty asshole, and he thinks the way that petty assholes do.

“Just because he’s a monster doesn’t mean he has to be smart,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Cardin’s right; his theory fits all the facts. So, in that case, if we assume that The Purifier is out for revenge, where does he strike next?”

“Beacon,” Weiss said. “It’s where the rest of Team Sapphire and Team Rosepetal are.”

“But if he needs to make up for his own failures, then that means he’ll attack the hospital and try and kill Sunset again!” Flash cried.

“We’ll split up,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Yuma, call Ozpin and warn him there might be an attempt to bomb Beacon Academy, then direct bomb squad and tactical units to Beacon and to the Princess Royal Hospital. Mallard, take Cardin and Russel up to Beacon and start searching for a bomb or The Purifier or… anything suspicious. Weiss, Flash, you’re riding with me, and we’re headed for the hospital.”

“I’ll come with you,” Blake said.

Lieutenant Martinez hesitated for a moment, before she said, “Fine, you can ride with us. Come on.”

A siren blazed on top of the lieutenant’s car as it raced through the streets.

Blake sat in the back of the SUV with Flash, while Weiss sat up front with the lieutenant. Both of the two members of Team WWSR were on their scrolls, speaking frantically into their devices as the car sped along.

“Pyrrha?” Flash said. “Pyrrha, it’s Flash; have you seen anything suspicious?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “With the officers at the door, we haven’t been disturbed. What’s going on?”

“We think that Team Sapphire was the target of the bombing because of your past run-ins with the White Fang,” Flash explained. “They didn’t get Sunset before, so they might try again.”

“Gods,” Pyrrha murmured. “What can I do?”

“Just keep Sunset safe,” Flash told her. “We’re on our way.”

Weiss, meanwhile, was holding her scroll up to Lieutenant Martinez ear so that the latter could hear it as she drove.

“We’re at Beacon now, El-Tee,” the young detective, Mallard, said. “The students are helping to search the grounds and buildings for explosives. Nobody’s seen anyone suspicious on the campus. The Atlesians have offered the assistance of a bomb disposal unit.”

“Tell them to sit their asses down; we’ll handle this ourselves,” Martinez said sharply. “Only tell them more politely.”

“El-Tee, this is Yuma; Bomb Squad says they don’t have the manpower to cover two sites at once on the chance there might be a bomb. We either need to find two bombs or pick one location.”

Lieutenant Martinez sighed. “Damn budget cuts,” she muttered. “Okay, tell Bomb Squad to head to the hospital. Mallard?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Tell the Atlesians that we appreciate whatever assistance they can provide,” Lieutenant Martinez said, through gritted teeth. “Yuma, do we at least have tactical units for Beacon and the hospital, or do we have to ask the Atlesians for marines as well?”

“They’re en route.”

“Thank gods for that,” Lieutenant Martinez said.

Blake sat in the back, saying nothing. Something bothered her, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Yes, Cardin’s point made a lot of sense. The Purifier was bent on revenge, but did that necessarily mean that he would make a second attempt on Sunset immediately? When his attempt to kill the Rutulus family had failed, he had switched to attacking their organisation, not continued to plug away at the family. Yes, revenge upon Team SAPR, but Team SAPR hadn’t been the only ones confronting the White Fang; there had been Team RSPT too, and…

Blake’s ears pricked up as her golden eyes widened. Team RSPT… and her.

And she had not only fought the White Fang but betrayed it first.

And she had gone to the fabric shop with Ruby, so the Purifier might have assumed that she would go there again.

Was… was I the target all a-?

The truck erupted out of the side-street like an avalanche, slamming into the side of Lieutenant Martinez’s SUV with enough force to send it rolling, tumbling roof over wheels across the road, windows shattering as the roof compressed. The world span before Blake’s eyes, the cries of Weiss and Flash filled her ears, and yet, they barely registered in the face of being thrown up and down, her seatbelt digging into her shoulder as her head was slammed repeatedly against the doorframe; her arms flailed uselessly, the glass cut at her aura, the world yanked her up and down, up and down. She felt her aura break under the assault, under the relentless and incessant impacts, and when the car finally rolled to a halt upon its roof, she could do nothing for a moment but hang, suspended in place by her seatbelt, breathing heavily in and out as smoke issued out of the engine.

She heard Weiss groan in the front seat. From Lieutenant Martinez, there was no sound.

Blake’s mind was foggy, but she was dimly aware that the driver’s side of the car had been the one to take the bulk of the impact.

“Blake? Blake, are you okay?”

Blake looked around, wincing at the pain in her neck as she twisted it. Flash was suspended too, but only for a moment as he ripped his seatbelt off and dropped on all fours onto the roof of the car.

“Blake!” he repeated, his voice muffled to her ears. “Hold on, I’m going to-” His words were cut off as something grabbed him by the leg, pulling him out of the car as he struggled to resist them. He was pulled through the shattered window and out of sight. Blake heard him say, “Wait, I know you-” before there was a sickening thudding sound.

Blake struggled to free herself from her seatbelt, but it was hard when she could barely think straight. She couldn’t really remember how she’d fastened herself in in the first place, and her hands were having trouble finding the… finding the… finding the thing. The thing! How did she get out of here?

A face appeared at the shattered window, the face… the face of Neon Katt.

“What’s new, pussycat?” Neon asked with a bright smile on her face.

Blake blinked. “You… you’re… here.”

“Surprise!” Neon cried. “Or not. When you think back, I’m sure you’ll agree it was actually… kind of obvious.”

Turncoat (New)

Turncoat

The barrel of the gun was large, a great, gaping black hole waiting to swallow her up.

The pistol didn’t waver an inch in Neon’s hand.

Blake could hear every breath she took, as loud as a storm.

“All flowers die,” Neon whispered.

Blake’s eyes widened.

Neon’s finger squeezed the trigger.

There was a sound of thunder.

Twenty hours earlier…

The Iceberg Lounge was a favourite of Atlesian expats and tourists, specifically the kind who wanted to come to Vale without actually experiencing anything remotely Valish. The screens on the walls showed Atlesian TV stations; the food was all Atlesian favourites; the drinks were all either sourced from Atlas or Atlesian cocktail recipes; the servers were all androids in bow ties, their joints clanking as they carried their trays of drinks up and down to the booths and the private lounges; the lighting – so dim that you could barely see anything – was all cool blues with white patches where it was necessary to be able to see, like the emergency exits; ice sculptures dotted the club, with a phenomenal sculpture of Atlas itself serving as a centrepiece to arrest the eye of anyone coming inside.

Seriously, you could come here and almost forget that you were in Vale at all. As a result, it had become something of a favourite for the older students here for the Vytal Festival, not least because it was an Atlesian club of the sort they would never ordinarily have gotten the chance to go to on account of the curfew at Atlas Academy. Neon thought it was kind of funny that they had to go all the way to Beacon for the chance to go to a quintessentially Atlesian establishment, but it just went to show how much less strict the rules at Beacon were.

This wouldn’t ordinarily have been Neon Katt’s kind of place; she would have much rather explored Vale’s more native nightlife, like that jazz bar, Pride’s, that she and Flynt had found.

But, as much as the Iceberg Lounge might be a favourite with the kind of really boring people who didn’t like trying new things and experiencing new cultures and all the reasons why there was a Vytal Festival in the first place, they did play a soundtrack of banging Atlesian techno, and Neon was in the mood for some of her favourite music right now.

She flopped down on the couch that ran around their corner booth. She slammed both her palms down on the glowing blue table that sat in front of her.

“Humans,” she declared loudly. “Suck!”

Rainbow sighed. “Neon.”

“No, don’t 'Neon' me, Rainbow Dash, not after the day that I’ve had,” Neon said. “Humans suck.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” Blake murmured. “Even if you are joking.”

“Who says that I’m joking, huh?” Neon replied.

Blake looked at her levelly. “If you mean that, then I don’t want to sit here and listen to you say it.”

Neon rolled her eyes. “Dashie, why did you even invite this killjoy to come out with us in the first place?”

“Neon, play nice with Blake, okay? She’s got the Mettle,” Rainbow insisted. “Blake, Neon doesn’t really mean it-”

“How do you know that I don’t mean it?” Neon demanded.

“Because I know you,” Rainbow replied. “And because I wouldn’t be your friend if you actually thought like that.”

“When did everyone get so judgy?” Neon asked. “It was when you started hanging out with Ciel, wasn’t it?”

“Ciel,” Rainbow said. “Ciel is a great point; Ciel’s a human. Does Ciel suck?”

“Yes!” Neon squawked. “Ciel sucks a lot! She wouldn’t even come out with us because she’s-”

“Religious,” Rainbow said.

“A prig,” Neon insisted. “I am religious-”

“You?” Blake asked incredulously. “You are religious.”

Neon gestured at Blake with both her hands. “Exhibit A of how much Ciel sucks: she is poisoning this innocent young mind about what the Faith of the Lady is really like.”

“I’m only a year younger than you,” Blake muttered.

Neon ignored her. “Don’t let Ciel fool you; our religion doesn’t demand that you be serious and judgemental all the time any more than it demands that you be a flag-waving Atlesian patriot. Ciel just is those things anyway because she wants to be. I have read the Epistles myself from cover to cover, and nowhere does it say that we’re not allowed to drink, still less to have a good time. In fact, you could say that we are encouraged to have a good time: to everything there is a season, a time for all things under heaven. A time to sow and a time to get the drinks in.” She spread out her arms on either side of her as a serving android, its face a featureless blue light that was nevertheless pointed in their direction, approached their table. “Yes, my good… android, we are ready to order.”

“Orders will be transmitted directly to the bar,” the android said in a robotic monotone. “What do you desire?”

“Two mint juleps,” Neon said. To Blake, she added, “You’re just a baby, so you’ll have to make do with mocktails or fruit juice.”

“Um…” Blake picked up the menu. “I’ll have a virgin mojito.”

“Make that two of those,” Rainbow said.

Blake looked up. “The other mint julep isn’t for you?”

“No,” Neon cried, aghast. “Those are mine!” She looked at Rainbow. “That said, what are you doing having a mocktail?”

“I’m staying sober for when you’re not,” Rainbow answered.

“Blake can stay sober,” Neon declared. “It suits her personality.”

“I’m responsible for Blake; I can’t get drunk and leave her to carry us home,” Rainbow insisted.

“Will there be anything else?” the android inquired.

“No,” Neon said, a little dispiritedly. She waved the robot away. “Off you go.”

“Processing,” the android said. “The price of these beverages is within the tab you have established at the bar. Your beverages will be brought to your table shortly.” The robot server turned away and began to clank back the way that it had come.

“You know,” Neon said. “I’d almost rather have a human waiter, but, like I said-”

“Humans suck,” Rainbow finished for her.

“Do you have to?” Blake demanded. “It’s not funny, and it isn’t clever. People really-”

“Blake,” Rainbow said. “Calm down.”

“This might all be some big game to you, playing the contrarian, saying shocking things just so you can get a kick out of the way that you make people gasp in outrage-”

“If I did, I’d certainly be getting a kick out of you right now,” Neon muttered.

“But those ideologies are embraced by people across Remnant and cause real harm-”

“Seriously, why is she here?” Neon demanded of Rainbow.

“Yes, why am I here?” Blake demanded in turn.

Rainbow let out a groan as she laid her forehead on the fluorescent table. She looked up. “Blake, you’re here because you wanted to meet other Atlas students, well, here you go: another Atlas student, and a damn good one too. Neon, Blake’s here because she’s a friend and because… because I think she’d fit in up north, and because, like you just heard, she wants to meet other Atlas students. You’re supposed to be helping me sell Atlas.”

“I am a walking advertisement for Atlas,” Neon declared. She struck a pose, one hand tucked behind the back of her head and the other making a scissor with her fingers at eye level. “How can you not want to attend an academy that has me in it?”

“Pretty easily,” Blake said flatly. She glanced at Rainbow. “I’m going to powder my nose,” she declared, getting up from her seat and leaving the booth, stomping off towards the bathroom.

Neon watched her go. “Now there’s a cat who needs a sense of humour,” she observed.

“Neon,” Rainbow sighed.

“What?” Neon cried. “What did I do?”

“Do you remember how I punched you in the face the first time we met?” Rainbow asked.

“I remember that you tried,” Neon responded.

“And I succeeded!”

“After I made you chase me all across the campus,” Neon corrected.

“I still landed the punch, in the end,” Rainbow insisted. “The point is that I really hated some of the things that you said when I first heard you say them. It was only after that detention the General put us in together that I actually started to get you, remember that?”

Neon grinned. “Swabbing up the cafeteria, how could I forget?”

Rainbow chuckled. “The point is that I get it,” she said. “I get it, Flynt gets it, Ciel gets it; that’s why we can make jokes about you being the White Fang’s mole in Atlas. That’s why Flynt can listen to you say all this stuff and let it roll off him. But Blake isn’t like that; she doesn’t know you like we do, and… she’s got pretty good reasons to not be okay with all what with the fact that she, you know-”

“Actually was White Fang?” Neon suggested.

“I’ve been ordered to deny that,” Rainbow pointed out.

“So that’s a yes but with more calls to the propaganda department,” replied Neon with a smug smirk.

“Hey, you want to tell Trixie that Blake’s not an Atlesian super spy after she blew herself up saving a bunch of kids, be my guest,” Rainbow declared. “Until then do you think you could maybe tone it down, just a little bit?”

Neon let out a huff as she leaned backwards. “Do you really think Blake will be happy in Atlas?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, I really do. Don’t you?”

Neon shrugged.

“Don’t just shrug; why wouldn’t she like it there?”

“Because it’s full of humans, and they suck,” Neon said.

Rainbow groaned. “Neon-”

“Phoebe came at me like she was ready to start a fight today,” Neon said. “She thinks I swapped out her hair colour remover with hair dye.”

“Did you?” Rainbow asked.

“Yeah!” Neon said enthusiastically. “She’s another one who needs to get a sense of humour. The way she looked, I thought she was going to attack me. Instead, she just kicked up a fuss and convinced the teachers that I’d done it.”

“Which you had.”

“But she couldn’t prove it,” Neon insisted. “They believed her anyway because she’s human.”

“They believed her because she’s Phoebe, and all the teachers think she’s perfect,” Rainbow corrected her.

“She wouldn’t get away with half the things she does if she was a faunus, and you know it,” Neon said. “The point is, I have been a victim of systemic racism, and I am entitled to vent about that tonight. Tonight which is supposed to be our night, ladies' night. Not little girls’ night.”

“Just try and get to know her a little,” Rainbow urged. “Once you do, you’ll like her, I promise.”

"Am I always going to have to watch my words around her?" Neon asked. "Because I'm not sure how much I could like someone who's going to police my language. I'd rather be free to say what I like."

"I'm sure there's a lot of people who'd like to be free to say what they like and not have to watch their words before they call us uppity animals," Rainbow said. "Like Phoebe."

Neon snorted. "Phoebe doesn't have the guts to say something like that; she'd lose her good-girl image."

"You know what I mean."

"It's not the same thing," Neon insisted. "You want to think that it's the same thing, just like you want to think that me making sweet little Twilight cry is just as bad as someone pulling on my tail-"

"If someone pulled your tail, you'd kick their ass in a heartbeat," Rainbow pointed out.

"Damn straight I would," Neon agreed, "but not the point. The point is-"

"Being an ass is being an ass; that's all there is to it," Rainbow said. "And why would you want to make Twilight cry?"

Neon laughed. "Everything is so simple where you live, isn't it?" she asked. "Your world's like a picture book."

"And what's yours, a joke book?"

"Sometimes," Neon said. "But sometimes, it's an angry book full of mean words because I want to vent about stuff, and I should be able to do that without Blake Belladonna getting on my case about it."

"I... I'll talk to her," Rainbow promised. "I'm not sure if she's there yet, where she can take jokes about this kind of thing, but I'll talk to her."

"You do that," Neon said as Rainbow got up. "And remind her that we're better than them!" Rainbow didn't acknowledge that, but followed where Blake had gone into the bathroom, leaving Neon alone at their table. Alone with her thoughts and with the techno music blaring out.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Listen to me, complaining about Phoebe. I'm becoming some moody faunus rights activist. Only the actual moody faunus rights activist doesn't want to hear it. Ugh!" She laid her head down on the table with a thump.

Sometimes, it was difficult. You did your best to skate through life with a smile and a laugh, you acted out to show them that they couldn't push you down into that subservient or frightened mould, you talked up the superiority of faunuskind because they hated that, and you made fun of the people who showed how much it got to them.

But sometimes, you had to admit that it was getting to you too.

The sound of creaking robotic joints alerted Neon to the fact that the server was back with their drinks. That was enough to put a bit of a smile on her face as the robot put them down on the table.

"Please enjoy," it said before walking away.

"I plan to," Neon said, as she picked up one of her mint juleps. She paused, glancing around. "If you two could get back here soon so I don't look like a pathetic loser drinking alone, that would be really great," she muttered.

"Is one of those for me?"

Neon looked up to see the girl standing at the edge of the booth. Not Blake or Rainbow Dash, but a friend all the same. "Molly?"

"Hey, Neon," Molly grinned as she slid into the booth, reaching out with one hand to snag the other mint julep. Molly Abyssin was a short girl with dusky skin, pale blonde hair, and large violet eyes. She was originally from Vacuo, but she had family in Mantle, and her folks had come back to live there after a grimm attack destroyed her Vacuan home; it was in Mantle that she and Neon had met. "Long time no see, huh?"

"A couple of years, sure," Neon agreed. "I haven't seen or heard from you since you dropped out of Atlas."

"Yeah, well, some cats have their own style," Molly said. "Mine wasn't a great fit for Atlas."

"You could have stuck with it long enough to get your huntsman license," Neon said.

"I don't need one," Molly replied dismissively. "Who cares about a piece of paper once you have the skills, huh?"

"The people who might pay you money if you have that piece of paper, but won't if you don't," Neon replied. "I'm not sure I'm going to join the military when I graduate, but I want to be able to earn some lien. I'd like to be able to live somewhere a little nicer than a cardboard box on a street in Mantle."

"There are alternatives," Molly said.

"Like what?" Neon asked.

Molly didn't reply for a moment. "How's Atlas treating you these days, Neon Rainbow?"

Neon sipped her drink. "How long have you been listening to me and my friends?"

"Long enough," Molly admitted. "I'm not surprised. A place like Atlas will never get someone like you. Just like it could never get someone like me. They just can't accept that they'll never be as fine as us."

"Or as strong as us," Neon added. "Or as fast as us."

"They'll never be able to see in the dark like we can," Molly said. "We're better than they are in so many ways, and they hate that. That's why they have to spend so much time pushing us down."

"Nobody pushes me down," Neon declared.

"Yeah, they do," Molly said. "You pretend that they don't, but they do, don't they?"

Neon was silent for a moment. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to talk about it, but that won't make it any less true," Molly insisted. She shuffled closer to Neon. "Wouldn't it be nice if they all had to bow to us for a change?"

Neon glanced at her sideways. "You sound like-"

"I told you there was another way," Molly said. "A way where we don't need to kiss ass for their qualifications, where people don't care if you have the right license on your scroll; they just care that you have the skills. The right lethal skills."

Neon drained the rest of her cocktail. "How long have you been in Vale, Molly?"

"Not long," Molly said. "I just got here from Menagerie, thought I'd look up an old friend, see if you wanted to meet any of my new friends."

"Your friends who-"

"Let's not say anything that might get anyone into trouble, huh?" Molly suggested.

Neon snorted. "Right. But I'm right, aren't I?"

"They're afraid of us because we have power they can't imagine," Molly said. "They hate us because we can do the things that they can only dream of. We're better than them, and there's a place you can go that will recognise that."

Neon hesitated. It was... tempting. She was better than them. She was faster, stronger, she had night vision, she had... she had everything, and yet...

And yet, she had to laugh and smile and pretend that it didn't bother her because the world didn't give a damn that she was better; it was determined to think she was less.

So yeah, it was tempting. No more Phoebe, no more humans putting her down, no more having to pretend, no more being indulged by Rainbow because 'she didn't mean it really,' no more being the joke faunus who said so many shocking things and wasn't it cute? No more getting blamed just because she was a faunus.

No more riding second class on a first class ticket.

No more.

Yeah, it was tempting. Very tempting.

"Supposing I say yes," Neon said. "What happens then?"

Neon's scroll rang, playing an upbeat techno tune.

She ignored it.

Molly, on the other hand, did not. She spun around to face Neon, her violet eyes wide. "What is that?" she demanded.

"It's just my scroll," Neon explained casually. "Probably Flynt wondering why I'm cutting class."

"You brought your scroll with you?" Molly yelled. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Well, depending on who you talk to," Neon said with a chuckle in her voice. "Come on, Mols, what's the big-?" The words froze in her throat as Molly pulled a revolver out of her pants and pointed it at Neon. "Ooooookay, you've got a gun. Looks new as well. Well, not new new, looks more like an antique, but new for you – at least I never saw it before – where did you get it?"

"Shut up, Neon," Molly said sharply. "And dump your scroll."

"Excuse me?"

"Scrolls can be tracked and traced, you idiot," Molly snapped. "Do you want to bring the heat down on us?"

"Of course not," Neon replied.

"Then dump it," Molly repeated. "Or I'll have to assume that-"

"That what?" Neon cut her off. "That this is a setup? That I'm some kind of traitor? That I'm trying to find out your base so I can sell you out back to Atlas?" She let out a gale of laughter. "Come on, Molly, if I was going to use my scroll so that I could be traced to your headquarters, don't you think that I'd be smart enough to put it on silent first?" She paused. "Actually, don't answer that." She got out her scroll and casually strolled over to a nearby trash can, into which she dropped the offending device in amongst the cans and the packets of crisps. "Happy now?"

Molly stared at her for a moment. "Yeah," she said, as she put the pistol away. "But we should get moving in case anyone comes looking for that."

"You're the one slowing us up," Neon said. "I could be there already if you had a speed semblance like me."

"Let's just go," Molly said, turning around and beginning to lead the way once more. "This isn't a game, Neon," she declared. "This is important. It's the most important thing. The future of our people is being fought for right at this moment. We can't afford to take risks or make mistakes."

Neon nodded. "Sure. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"And that," Molly said, "is why you are stupid enough to forget to put your scroll on silent."

"Yeah, well, you're..." Neon paused, looking for something to insult her with. "You're short," she said.

"I like the fact that it took you time to notice that."

"I noticed it right away; what took me time was realising you're so boring that there's nothing else to comment on about you."

"Oh, I'm sorry that I don't have so many quirky traits that you could open up a quirky traits shop if you wanted to."

"What in Remnant is a 'quirky traits shop'?" Neon demanded. "Other than a great business idea. Maybe some sort of consultancy for the personality-challenged where we teach them how to appear interesting."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Between the hair and the outfit, I'm surprised that you don't have a madcap vehicle or an exotic pet, just to drive home what an eccentric you are."

"Well, you're still short," Neon retorted. She looked herself up and down. "And what's wrong with my outfit?"

Molly smirked. "If you don't know, I'm not sure I should be the one to tell you."

"Remind me why we're friends?"

"Because we both agree on the big things," Molly said. "Where we belong. Our place in the world."

"I'm not sure that either of us really belong here," Neon muttered.

They were walking down a well-to suburban street in midtown Vale, the kind of place where the houses had picket fences and two-car garages, although said garages didn't stop cars from being parked out on driveways. Neon thought she saw a lace curtain twitch in one window.

"It's not the kind of place you'd expect to find... people like us, is it?"

"No matter what 'people like us' means, the answer is still no," Neon replied.

"That's why it's the perfect place to hide out," Molly explained. "Take a good look, Neon; when things change, we'll be living in places just like this."

"Why would you want to?" Neon asked. "It looks really boring around here."

Molly didn't reply to that; she just kept on leading Neon into the depths of darkest suburbia until they came to a house with pinkish-lilac panelling upon the walls, where a red truck sat on a driveway with space for one other, absent, vehicle.

Neon felt eyes watching her as she followed Molly around the truck, up the drive, and to the front door of the house.

She rapped smartly upon the door.

"This is the place?" Neon said. "This?"

"Yep."

Neon stared for a moment. "Not what I expected."

"That's what we're counting on," Molly replied, as the door opened.

A goat faunus, with long horns curling past his ears, stood in the doorway. "Hey, Molly," he said. He nodded in Neon's direction. "Is this her?"

"No, Billy, I decided to bring someone else to our secret hideout," Molly said. "Are you going to let us in or not?"

Billy moved out of the way, letting Molly in through the door and then Neon after. Once Neon was through, he shut the door quite heavily behind them.

"Molly says that you're okay, that you can be trusted," he said. "If she's right, then we're cool. If not-" – he pulled a sleek Atlesian pistol from out of his waistline behind him – "-you're gonna be sorry, understand?"

Neon looked from the gun to Billy's stern face. "Everyone's so tense and serious around here," she said. "Do you need a massage?"

"Neon," Molly warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, this is serious," Neon said. "Excuse me."

Billy looked at Molly. "Are you sure about her?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Molly insisted. "She's Atlas-trained, just like me, which means we can use her. And she sees things the right way, don't you, Neon?"

"I see that we deserve to be on top and keeping them down instead of the other way around," Neon said. "I don't see why we can't have some fun doing it."

"Where's the boss?" Molly asked.

"In the basement, working," Billy told her.

"Thanks," Molly said. "Come on," she told Neon before her voice dropped to a hiss. "And whatever you do, don't get cute with the big guy. I mean it!"

"I'll try and be boring," Neon said as Molly dragged her through a surprisingly empty house. In the whole place, she saw, besides Billy, one other person, a huge rat faunus cleaning a shotgun in the living room while the TV played soccer highlights. "There aren't as many people here as I thought there would be."

"Some of them must be out on a job," Molly explained.

"A job?" Neon repeated. "You mean like-?"

"Need to know," Molly informed. "And you don't need to know right now. Come on."

She took Neon down into the basement, where another large faunus, this one a lion with a tail trailing down to the floor, guarded the door. His hair was long and black, and his face was scarred and set in a permanent scowl.

"This her?" he asked.

"Danny, this is Neon; Neon, this is Danny," Molly said. "Can we see the boss?"

"Maybe," Danny replied, banging on the door with one meaty fist. "Boss? Molly's back with her new recruit."

There was a moment of pause before a deep voice replied. "Very well. They may enter."

"Good luck," Danny muttered to Neon as he opened the door.

The inside of the basement had been converted into a workshop, with tools and wires and lonely dust crystals and all kinds of stuff like that littering the room. At the far end of the basement sat a man dressed in black, black pants and a black hoodie with the hood up. When he turned around, Neon saw that his mask, too, was black, with a face carved so as to look as though he was screaming.

"So," a deep voice issued out from behind the mask. "You are Molly's friend, Neon Katt, yes?"

Neon raised one hand. "Present," she said.

"My name," he said, but then halted for a little bit, "is not important. My enemies, and many of my allies too, know me as The Purifier, but it would be rather pretentious to insist upon that title amongst those working under me. You may address me as anything you like, so long as you obey my commands as the leader of the Vale Chapter of the White Fang."

"A chapter?" Neon said. "It looks more like a paragraph to me. And a short paragraph at that."

The Purifier chuckled. "Very witty, Miss Katt, and if the whole of our strength were here, then we would be a small group indeed, but have your studies at Atlas not taught that you a small group, possessed of extraordinary ability and resolve, may accomplish more than a great mass of ill-trained dross? Or why does Atlas train specialists to fight at the forefront of its armies?"

"I... stand corrected," Neon murmured.

"I do not say this to humble you," The Purifier declared. "Rather, if you take my meaning, then you will be proud, for you have been chosen to join our select group, working directly under me to take our vengeance for the oppression that has for too long been visited upon our people. Please, sit down."

Neon's tail flicked behind her as she hopped upon the empty stool he had indicated.

"Does it seem strange to you," The Purifier said, "that you should receive an invitation to join our ranks, and the day after, you are meeting with the leader of the White Fang in this kingdom?"

Neon folded her arms. "How do I know that you are the leader of the White Fang in this kingdom?"

"Neon," Molly said, "what are you doing?"

"You talk about how a small group of guys can accomplish a lot, and maybe that's right," Neon said, "but I have been unable to escape Rainbow Dash's boasting about how she fought the White Fang at the docks, and she says that there were hundreds of White Fang fighters there. Just like she boasts that she's beaten the leader of the White Fang twice, and you're not what she described."

"Neon, for God's sake-"

"How do I know you really are the White Fang, huh?" Neon demanded. "How do I know you're not some losers chilling out in your nice house playing revolutionary? How do I know I'm not wasting my time?"

"How dare you-?"

The Purifier raised his hand. "It's a fair question, Molly," he said quietly. "A question that I would expect a truly enthusiastic volunteer, who wished to join the fight, to ask. And, given the involvement of Atlas in the recent reverses suffered by the chapter, it is unsurprising that your friend would possess this information." He got to his feet, casting a shadow across the basement. "I am aware of Rainbow Dash," he said. "Is she a friend of yours?"

Neon shrugged. "Us faunus gotta stick together," she said. "She's more of a friend than most at Atlas. Molly knows that we went out last night together. But she was more interested in her precious Blake than me, just like she's more interested in Twilight Sparkle and her fancy human friends than in a fellow faunus or what we have to put up with."

"Then it would not grieve you if she were to die?" the Purifier asked.

He was looking at her. She couldn't see his eyes through the mask, but she knew, nonetheless, that he was looking at her. There was a crackle in the air. Neon sensed that honesty would serve her better than bluster, and so she said, "It would, a little bit. Rainbow... can be cool to hang out with. More than most."

"I see," the Purifier said. "Nevertheless, Rainbow Dash must die for her betrayal of the White Fang and all that we mean to our kind. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Neon stared into the eye slits of his mask. "People die in war," she said.

"If only those who condemn my actions could see such a simple truth," The Purifier lamented.

"You still haven't answered my questions," Neon reminded him.

"I am the leader of the Vale Chapter," the Purifier declared. "I have newly arrived to replace Adam Taurus after his... failures. It is also true that he amassed a large force, but I have no need of them."

"No?" Neon asked.

"Tell me, Miss Katt, what should I do with an army?" the Purifier asked.

"You just agreed we were at war," Neon said. "So fight a war."

"Against Atlas in all its power?" the Purifier asked.

"Good point," Neon murmured.

"My weapons are not armies, Miss Katt," the Purifier explained to her. "My weapons are explosives, for which I need only a handful of loyal supporters to deploy the weapons and a few others to arrange my protection and carry out such errands as I require. That is the group – this group, which I brought with me from Menagerie – which you will be joining, if I choose."

"'If'?" Neon leaned forward. "And how will you choose?"

The Purifier was quiet for a moment. "You have not answered my question, Miss Katt," he reminded her. "Does it seem strange?"

"Not so much when you put it like that," Neon replied. "But... a little, I guess."

"Do you know what Molly's role in our little coterie is?" the Purifier asked. "Would you like to guess?"

Neon grinned. "I remember that our little Molly here liked to blow stuff up," she said. "So I'm guessing that she is... your apprentice?"

"Very perceptive, Miss Katt; Molly is indeed learning her trade at my hands. A bomb of her making will be employed very shortly against an enemy of the White Fang, in fact. She is... a true talent," he added, making Molly blush with pride. "And such is my trust in her that when she tells me that she has a promising new recruit for our number, I accept it without question or hesitation. I am prepared to welcome you, as you are, if only you tell me one thing: why are you here? Why do you wish to turn your back on Atlas and all its delights to join us in our uncertain struggle?"

"Because in Atlas, I will never be allowed to be anything," Neon said, "except be grateful for the opportunity to live among the clouds." She couldn't help but think about Dashie, so fawningly, pathetically grateful for the chance to be... what? General Ironwood's loyal attack dog? Did she ever think they'd let her anywhere near a seat of actual power? "Because they'll never let a faunus be anything in Atlas, and so no self-respecting faunus would want to. I choose to spread my wings, somewhere I can be whatever I want to be."

The Purifier was silent for a moment. "Welcome to the White Fang, Neon Katt," he said.

Molly whooped and patted Neon on the back so hard it was more like hitting her.

Neon grinned. "I just have one question."

"You have but to ask, Sister Neon."

Neon's smile widened. "Do we all get cool nicknames like yours?"

Molly squeaked in outrage, but The Purifier threw back his masked and hooded head and laughed, the sound of his deep laughter echoing off the walls of the basement.

"You will make a wonderful addition to our band, Sister Neon; I fear our business has made us all too grim and earnest. Now, come with me. Molly, get the bomb. Danny will drive, and you, little sister, you will come with us."

"Where?" Neon asked, as she got to her feet.

"To deliver the bomb to where it is needed."

"Good afternoon, this is Lisa Lavender with the evening news. An explosion ripped through a small retailer in Elephant and Castle this afternoon, injuring two women, one of whom remains in critical condition. It is understood that the two women are students at Beacon Academy and that Pyrrha Nikos, the celebrated Mistralian tournament champion, rescued both of them from the flames immediately after the explosion. The police have confirmed that they are treating the explosion as suspicious and that they are seeking an employee of the retailer named Brick Featherstone to assist in their inquiries. We also have reports that the police conducted a raid on a property in Tressingham, although there is no confirmation that the events are connected."

"Turn that off," The Purifier commanded, and Molly switched off the TV.

The four faunus who had set off from the old safe house earlier that afternoon had been joined by Brick Featherstone, the squirrel faunus the police were seeking after the explosion, and five other armed faunus, none of whom were Billy or the other guy that Neon had seen in the old safehouse. They were either dead or in police custody.

Neon didn't know if these new guys were actually new or if they were more people that The Purifier had brought from Menagerie but who had, like them, been away from the safehouse at the time of the police raid.

She wasn't sure now was the best time to ask.

Whatever the case, they had all retired to another safehouse, one that was not quite so nice as the one that they had left behind: this was a house backing onto a freight rail line, where you could hear the trains clattering past every fifteen minutes or so to make the walls shake, where there was rising damp at the corners of the walls.

They had gone down in the world, which seemed about right.

The Purifier wasn't too happy about it. He had been on the scroll with someone a little while earlier, and he hadn't been in too good a mood when the conversation finished.

Perhaps it had been Adam Taurus. Perhaps The Purifier's hold on the Vale Chapter was not so tight.

It wouldn't have surprised Neon if it were so; by the sound of it, he had shown up in Vale with an order to take charge and a few followers. He couldn't make the old leader, who had more followers, do as he said.

At least not without going to where they all were and attempting to impose his will.

Perhaps that was where they were going next. Perhaps that was The Purifier's next move. He hadn't shared his plans yet.

Though, judging by the way that he was standing up in front of the now silent television, it looked as though that might be about to change.

He clasped his hands behind his back. "While we do not yet know the fate of our comrades, whether they are dead or in custody, know that I grieve for them as my brothers.

"I know that this must seem an inauspicious beginning to our venture here in Vale, the loss of so many members of our unit and the failure of our first attack. But we have had reverses before; those of you who have been with me long enough will remember Nisus and Euryalus, killed by Rutulus’ men, or how Lamprey and Cyan were caught by the Argus police. We have always suffered losses, and always, we have risen again to triumph over our adversaries and strike fear into the hearts of all those who stand against our people. So it has always been and so it will be once more. Keep the faith. Stay with me. We are not defeated yet. As our enemies will learn very soon."

"Do we have a plan, boss?" Molly asked.

The Purifier was silent for a moment. "Although Brick detonated the bomb too early-"

"I was afraid they'd find it," Brick protested. "I thought that, at least we'd be killing huntresses, even if none of them was Belladonna."

"But you didn't kill any of them," Neon pointed out.

"It's not my fault the bomb didn't work properly!"

"My bomb was designed perfectly," Molly cried. "You must have messed up the placement."

"I had to put it somewhere out of sight! How about you design a real-?"

"Enough!" The Purifier shouted. "Only our enemies gain when we fight amongst ourselves. It had been my intent to target Blake Belladonna first, but with Sunset Shimmer in hospital, if we can assemble another bomb-"

"What if we didn't need a bomb?" Neon suggested.

"I'm not sure anyone needs to hear from you right now, baby cat," Danny muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Neon demanded.

"It means somebody sold out our safehouse to the cops."

"She tossed her scroll," Molly said. "And she wasn't alone at all from the moment she got to the safehouse."

"Somebody tipped them off," Danny said.

"We were undone by our own carelessness," The Purifier said. "It appears they followed the team sent to collect our supplier back to our hold out. We played into their hands. We will not do so again. Sister Neon, what is your proposal?"

"What if we could strike back at once and get Blake into the bargain?" Neon suggested.

"How?" The Purifier asked.

Flash tried to take in every detail of the room in which he was held. It was a basement or a cellar; of that, he was certain; there were no windows, and the only light was a single unshaded bulb suspended from the ceiling above them, casting a light that was not quite bright enough to reach the corners of the room. He could see brick, uncovered with panels or wallpaper or anything like that, just red brick that was looking a little rough in places.

The floorboards beneath his feet were wood, with no carpet or anything else to cover them. He wouldn’t want to walk across it in bare feet and no aura.

He tried to take in every detail, but unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of details to take in. Certainly none that would tell him where they-

The room began to shudder; the light above them swung wildly back and forth as the thunderous sound of a train passing by echoed down into this cellar dungeon.

A train. We’re near a railway line.

That didn’t narrow it down tremendously, but it was a start. Now, if only he could…

Well, Flash wasn’t sure him knowing where he was being held was going to help much, but he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the White Fang to kill him. To kill them both.

He was chained to a chair, his hands bound behind his back. Blake was behind him, and from what he could tell from craning his neck back, she was facing the other way. If he stretched out his fingers, he could feel what he thought were her hands, although he couldn’t reach far enough to undo her restraints.

Blake groaned.

“Blake?” Flash asked. “Blake, are you awake? Can you hear me?”

There was a moment’s pause. “Yeah. Yeah, I can hear you. Which means I’m awake.” Blake groaned. “Where are we?”

“A basement, close to a railway line,” Flash said. “I don’t know more than that.”

“You know something,” Blake said. “How do you know about the railway?”

“You just missed the train going by.”

“Is that what that was?” Blake murmured. “I thought I dreamed that.”

“No,” Flash replied. “Do you know where we are?”

“I don’t know the locations of all our safehouses,” Blake answered. “Or even most of them. The truth is, I never engaged in any operations within the city.” She stopped, and Flash was left with a sense that there was something that she wasn’t saying.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Why?” Blake asked. “There’s nothing left to say.”

“I doubt that.”

“There are things that I don’t want to talk about.”

Flash might have pointed out that there wasn’t much else to do around here, but he held his peace. Just because they were trapped together didn’t make them close, and with what Blake knew about him, he didn’t blame her for not wanting to spill her confidences to him. She was close to Sunset, so she probably thought that he was a monstrous racist heart-breaker. He was lucky she was talking to him at all.

“Fair enough,” he murmured. “I guess there are things I don’t want to talk about either.” He paused. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you can get out of your restraints?”

He heard Blake shift and struggle a little. “No. You?”

“No luck,” Flash said. “What are they going to do to us?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “They’re not going to do anything to us, Flash,” she said. “Because we’re going to be rescued.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I am sure,” Blake declared. “Our friends won’t leave us behind.”

“I know that, but what can they do?” Flash asked. “How are they supposed to find out where we are? The White Fang could come in and shoot us dead right now, and how would we stop them?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Something will turn up.”

“'Something will turn up'?” Flash repeated. “That… do you have any idea how that sounds?”

“I have an idea,” Blake acknowledged. “But I also have faith.” She paused. “On the first night at Beacon, before Initiation, I was sitting next to Sunset. I didn’t want the company, but I get the impression that she knew that, and she sought me out because she didn’t want company either. But it didn’t really matter what either of us wanted because Ruby came over anyway. She wanted to talk to Sunset at first, but then she asked me about the book I was reading, and we got to talking about fairy tales. I thought she was naïve, and I told her so. ‘The world isn’t a fairy tale.’”

“Let me guess: and then Sunset asked ‘who says?’” Flash said.

“How did you-?“

“Sunset and I used to date, remember?” Flash replied. “I know what she’s like. I know how she thinks. I used to, anyway. She’s changed since then.”

“Not in every way, I don’t think, or that much,” Blake said softly. “But you’re right. ‘Why must we succumb to despair?’ ‘The world can be whatever we want it to be. We write our own stories. Nobody else can write them for you, nor force you to be anything less than the hero of your own life’.”

Flash chuckled. “I can hear her voice when you say that.”

“Not many people can sound like she does,” Blake agreed. “Not many people can inspire like she does. I believe her. I didn’t at first – I thought she was spouting nonsense – but now… I believe her. I choose to believe her. I choose to believe that this is our story, not theirs, that this is the kind of story where we’re not abandoned by our friends but rescued, even if only in the nick of time. We’ll get through this, Flash, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Flash frowned. “Did you just promise to protect me?”

“Why not?” Blake asked.

“You’ve got no cause to like me.”

“I’ve got no cause to dislike you either,” Blake said. “And I think that… that keeping you safe is what Sunset would want me to do.”

Flash snorted. “I’m not sure that having me alive instead of you is what Sunset would want.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I think you’re very brave,” she said.

“Huh?”

“It takes courage to face the fact that the person you love can’t love you in the same way, that they’re not capable of it,” Blake said. “It takes even more courage to leave, to put yourself first, to say that… that you won’t let yourself be hurt any more.”

Flash looked over his shoulder at the back of Blake’s head. “What are you talking about?”

“I think we both know what I’m talking about,” Blake whispered.

“But… how do you know?” Flash asked.

Blake took a little while to answer, “I’d rather not say.”

Flash smiled a little, for all that she couldn’t see it. You may not want to say, but you don’t have to. And that’s okay.

“Flash,” Blake said. “I… I’m sorry, about your father.”

“You don’t-”

“Yes,” Blake said, “I do. I… I had no idea. And yet you’ve never held it against me, what I was.”

“Wait, you mean you weren’t an Atlesian undercover agent?” Flash asked, in a mock-aghast tone. “I’m appalled.”

Blake let out a little chuckle. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Flash murmured. “Hey, Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think they didn’t take Weiss? Why us, why not her?”

“I… I don’t know,” Blake replied. “I was pretty out of it at the time, maybe… maybe they only had time to grab two people, maybe Weiss fought them off. I don’t know.”

“I’m glad that she’s not here,” Flash said. “I’m glad that, no matter what happens to us, she’ll be okay.”

“We’ll all be okay,” Blake insisted. “And you’ll see her again, I guarantee it.”

The wooden door into the cellar swung open, hitting the brick wall with a crash as a man walked in, a man dressed in black, with a hood up over his head and a black mask, a black screaming mask, covering his face.

“Krasny Krot,” Flash growled. Here he was, the man who had killed his father.

Flash had meant what he said to Weiss: he hadn’t really thought about it up until now. He had always known that his father had been killed by a bomb, but he had always attributed that to ‘The White Fang,’ a faceless mass, an organisation, an idea, a cause. He had never really thought about an individual, someone making the bomb, planting the bomb, detonating the bomb. He had never thought about a finger on the trigger, someone ordering his father’s death. In part, that had been because it was easier not to blame the faunus if he didn’t think about any individual faunus doing the deed. If he thought about a person, even a person in a mask, he had been worried that that person might start to look a lot like Sunset, or Rainbow Dash, or Ditzy.

But now… now he had a face, and a name, and a man standing before him with his hands drenched in blood. Flash tried to lunge forward, only for his restraints to pull him and hold him fast.

Krasny stopped. “You know who I am?” he asked, his voice deep as an ocean abyss.

“You weren’t exactly trying to hide,” Flash said. “You used your own passport to arrive in Vale.”

Krasny chuckled. “When everyone is hunting for The Purifier, why should anyone stop Krasny Krot? Of course, I suppose that will have to change now. A pity.”

Flash shook his head. “You won’t get a chance to make that change. You’re never getting out of Vale. You can do whatever you like to the two of us, but you will be caught, and you will spend the rest of your life in jail for what you’ve done!”

Krasny looked down at him. “That look in your eyes… you hate me, don’t you boy?” He chuckled. “Tell me, who did I kill?”

Flash bared his teeth as he tried to lunge again, pulling futilely against his restraints. “My father,” he growled.

“And so you want to kill me?” Krasny asked.

Flash was silent for a moment. “I want… I want…” I want my father back. “I want to know why.”

Krasny Krot said nothing at first. When he spoke, his voice was calm and collected. “What is that you want from me, young man? Do you want me to spin a political manifesto before your eyes, to speak of the oppression of our people and of the many injustices that have been done to us? Shall I speak of how we are put down, forced to work like slaves in unsafe death traps, forced to risk our lives to earn our daily bread? How our homes are stolen from us along with all the sweat of our brow, of how all our attempts to leave behind the societies that degrade us are met with violence? How we are denied even the opportunity to see ourselves reflected in the media that we consume?”

He knelt down, and with one hand – his hands were cybernetic, Flash saw, both metal – he took off his mask, revealing a face transformed into a hideous mass of burned, melted, and malformed flesh.

“Or should I tell you that I am in pain every moment of every day, and so nothing will satisfy me but to spread that pain, my inescapable pain, out across the world until others scream as I did when I was trapped amidst the flames?” He put his mask back on. “There you have it. Two stories. Am I an idealist or a madman? The choice is yours. Whichever will make you feel more righteous in these last hours before the end.”

“An idealist?” Blake demanded. “An idealist would never do what you have done. We will never win equality through death and destruction and the spread of fear.”

“Did our kind not win freedom through death and destruction and the spread of fear, Blake Belladonna?” Krasny demanded. “But then, I would expect no other words to fall from a traitor’s lips.”

“If I had not betrayed the White Fang, I should have betrayed myself,” Blake declared. “I’m not ashamed of what I did, and I do not regret it.”

Krasny chuckled. “Do you expect me to admire the courage of your convictions? I do not. All I see is one who has turned her back upon her brothers and who must pay the price for it.”

“What do you mean to do with us?” Flash demanded. “If you’re going to kill us, then why not just do it on the road?” His eyes widened. “Bait. You want to use us as bait, don’t you? You want people to come looking for us!”

“It’s said, not least by Atlesians themselves, that they don’t leave their comrades behind,” Krasny said. “Is that true, Blake?”

“Yes,” Blake declared. “Always.”

“And what do you say, Sister Neon?” Krasny called. “Is it true that the Atlesians will always rescue a comrade in jeopardy?”

“If they like them, maybe,” ‘Sister Neon’ said as she sauntered into the basement, a particularly feline smirk upon her face. “Like, I’m sure that they’ll try and rescue Blake here, because everybody likes Blake. Everybody loves Blake.” She moved out of sight of Flash; he twisted around to try and follow her as she stood in front of Blake. “Isn’t that right? Everybody just loves you.” She giggled. “It’s hilarious when you think about it. You put on this act of being such a disaffected loner, and yet, literally everyone wants to help you out, even the General. Do you know how many times I’ve got to meet one on one with General Ironwood? Do you think he’d put his reputation on the line to spring me from jail?”

“Did you betray Atlas just because you’re jealous?” Blake demanded incredulously.

“Jealous? Of you?” Neon laughed aloud. “Oh, honey, you’re not that impressive. No, I joined the White Fang because-” She was cut off by the sound of the train rattling past the house, which drowned out anything that she might have had to say about her motivations. “Nobody heard a word of that, did they?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Blake said dryly. “Did we miss much?”

Neon growled wordlessly. “Blake, you’ve been hanging around with Ciel enough to have heard the phrase ‘Flowers of the North’ at least once, right?”

“Yes,” Blake replied.

“Okay,” Neon said. “So what do you do with flowers?”

“I… gave them to Sunset a couple of times,” Flash ventured, not sure where this was going.

“Aww, that was sweet of you,” Neon replied. “Did she like them?”

“I... think so?”

“And what did she do with them?” Neon asked.

“She put them in a vase until…” Flash trailed off as he realised exactly where this was going.

“Go on,” Neon urged.

“Until they died,” Flash finished. “And then she threw them away.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s why I’m with the White Fang,” Neon declared.

“You won’t get away with this,” Blake snarled.

“Oh, Blake,” cooed Neon. “I’ve already gotten away with everything.”

“Our friends will come for us!” Blake insisted.

“Good,” Krasny said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Hey,” Cardin said, his tone diffident and uncertain as he walked towards her, cradling a steaming cup of something in his hands. “I thought that you might want some tea.”

“No, I don’t want tea; I want to find Flash!” Weiss snapped. She sighed. “But thank you anyway, Cardin; I shouldn’t yell at you for something that’s not your fault.”

“It makes a change from getting yelled at for things that are my fault,” Cardin ventured.

Weiss’ eyebrows rose.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Not really the time.” He sat down beside Weiss, at one of the empty desks in the Basement. Russel was sat across the way from them, doing something on the computer.

“We’ll get him back,” Cardin said.

“You don’t know that,” Weiss murmured.

Cardin was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t know that. Sorry. Again.”

Weiss clasped her hands together. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “Why take Flash and not me? Blake, I suppose I can understand; she used to be one of the White Fang; they want to punish her for deserting them. Or at least, that’s an explanation that makes sense. But why take Flash but leave me? I’m the heir to the Schnee Dust Company; my death would be the biggest coup the White Fang have ever accomplished!”

“Are you offended that you didn’t get kidnapped?”

“Of course not!” Weiss snapped. “But… but if I had to choose… I’d rather that I’d been taken and Flash were here, looking for me.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “You know he’d hate that, right?”

“I didn’t say that it was noble or smart, only that it was how I felt,” Weiss said softly. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“I don’t know that things are bound to work out,” Cardin said. “But I do know that if dead bodies were all the White Fang wanted, they could have shot him in the wreck of that car, and Blake, and you. They want him alive for a reason, and that means that they’ll probably keep him alive for at least a little while. Him… and Blake.”

Weiss was silent for a moment. “You’re more insightful than your performance in class would suggest,” she murmured.

Cardin snorted. “Not really,” he replied. “It just makes sense.”

“But it doesn’t help us find them,” Weiss murmured.

“No,” Cardin admitted. “But we will. Even if we have to kick down every door in Vale to do it.”

The elevator door rose with a rattle and a clatter, admitting into the Basement a thin man, balding on top, wearing a blue pin-striped three-piece suit with a red tie. He walked in without acknowledging anyone, making a bee-line for Lieutenant Martinez as she sat at her desk, poring over notes.

The lieutenant became aware of the approach of the man in the suit before he reached her, and she got up and began to walk to him. “Captain Haskins. We don’t often see you down here.”

“The Commissioner suggested I should come down and see how you were doing,” the man – Captain Haskins – said. “How are you feeling, DJ?”

“Feeling a little sick of people asking me how my head is,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered.

Captain Haskins ignored that. “Do you have any leads on where they took the boy?”

“No, sir,” Lieutenant Martinez admitted.

Captain Haskins tutted with disapproval. “I don’t need you to tell you how serious this is, Martinez.”

“No, sir, you don’t.”

“It’s bad enough losing one of your own lads,” Captain Haskins went on. “But he isn’t even one of yours; you’ve only got him on loan. And he’s an Atlesian, and you managed to lose their asset into the bargain! The diplomatic implications are-”

“The Atlesians managed to somehow not notice that one of their own students was a White Fang mole, and you’re worried about what they think about all this?!” Lieutenant Martinez yelled. “How about, instead of worrying about what they’re going to say, you and the Commissioner and Councillor Emerald get the Atlesians to let me up onto their ship to take a crack at Torchwick and shake out the locations of the White Fang safehouses?”

“The Atlesians say Torchwick won’t talk.”

“He’ll sing once I’ve shattered one of his kneecaps, sir.”

Captain Haskins stared at her. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Martinez.”

“I don’t joke when one of our own is in trouble, sir,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “I do whatever it takes.”

“Damn it, Martinez, this isn’t the old days any more; you can’t just beat confessions out of people; suspects have rights!”

“Rights are a privilege, sir, one that the likes of Roman Torchwick forfeit when they step outside the law!”

“You’re in enough trouble right now, Martinez, without crossing even more lines on a fishing expedition. Now what I suggest you do is-”

“Uh, excuse me,” Russel said tremulously, raising one hand. “Um, Lieutenant, we’re getting a call from the Atlesian fleet; they say it’s urgent.”

Lieutenant Martinez folded her arms. “Are you going to let me take this, sir?”

Captain Haskins adjusted his jacket. “Put them on the big screens, young man.”

“Uh, yes, uh, sir,” Russel said, his fingers hammering the keyboard.

The face of General Ironwood appeared on the screens, magnified to many times its actual size.

“Am I addressing Lieutenant Martinez of the VPD?” he asked.

“I’m Captain Haskins, Flying Squad,” Captain Haskins said, and then gestured to his junior. “This is Lieutenant Martinez. What can we do for you, General?”

“We’ve just received some intelligence relating to the kidnapping of Blake Belladonna and Flash Sentry,” General Ironwood said. “I’m forwarding the audio onto you now.”

“Got it… sir,” Russel said.

Lieutenant Martinez waited. “Well, go on, play the thing!”

“Oh, right, yes, Lieutenant,” Russel yelped, and he hit a few more keys before the audio from the Atlesians began to play out through the speakers. Weiss got up when she heard Flash’s voice, and Blake’s, talking to a man whom Flash at least seemed to believe to be Krasny Krot. They were joined by Neon Katt, who was interrupted by a loud, thunderous rumbling that drowned her out for a while before she resumed speaking. Everything was said to one another, none of it for the audience listening through the scroll, as if none of the people in the room had known that they were being recorded.

But it was Flash’s voice. It was definitely Flash’s voice. He was alive! Or at least, he had been when that recording was made.

“How did you get this?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.

“A call received by one of my students,” General Ironwood said. “The number was anonymous, and we haven’t yet had any luck tracing the call. But we only got the call a short while ago, and we believe that it was happening live, not a recording.”

“They talk about using them as bait for a trap,” Cardin pointed out.

“Yes, but if they were trying to lure us into a trap, they wouldn’t have sent us audio talking about a trap, would they?” Lieutenant Martinez asked.

“That’s a good point,” Cardin conceded.

“So we know that Flash and Blake are alive, even if we don’t know where they are,” Weiss said.

“We might not know where they are exactly, but we’ve narrowed it down,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “That was a train going by, and close by too.”

“Really?” Russel said. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure; I know what a train sounds like,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Why, do you have something?”

“I might have,” Russel said. “I’ve been looking at the property that we raided earlier, the one The Purifier was using at their safe house. Now, that house is owned by the Eastern Promise Holding Company; now, I can’t find any actual people connected to the company, but I can tell you that they own other properties across Vale including-” – he typed on the keyboard to bring up a map of Vale, with one particular property in the south of the city marked with a red arrow – “14 Leadenham Close, which is right on the railway line to Alexandria.”

“Great work, Russel!” Lieutenant Martinez cried. “Okay, gear up, let’s go!”

Neon was sitting in the living room, doing a little light maintenance on her nunchuks, when Danny walked in, his heavy tread making the floorboards creak. “Have you seen my scroll?”

Neon looked up at him. “Why would I have seen your scroll? I haven’t even seen you using a scroll.”

“I can’t find it,” Danny said.

Neon sat up a little. “Where did you have it last?”

“In the kitchen, maybe; I don’t really remember.”

“Why don’t you look for it?”

“I have looked for it, and I can’t find it; that’s why I’m asking if anybody’s seen it,” Danny replied irritably.

“Sorry,” Neon said, not sounding very sorry. “I haven’t seen it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“What’s going on?” Molly demanded as she came in.

“Danny here has lost his scroll,” Neon told her.

“Why don’t you look for it?” Molly suggested.

“I’m not a moron; that’s the first thing I did,” Danny growled. “Have you seen it?”

“No,” Molly replied. “Where did you have it last?”

“Oh, this is hopeless,” Danny muttered and walked off towards the other door out into the kitchen.

Molly shook her head. “Neon, come with me; the boss has a job for you.”

“Ooh, what?” Neon asked, getting up out of the ratty armchair in which she had ensconced. “Is it cool? Is it dangerous?”

“It’s the last test of your loyalty to the White Fang,” Molly informed her, as she turned away.

“'Test'?” Neon repeated as she followed after. “You mean you don’t trust me yet, Molly?”

“I trust you,” Molly confirmed. “Think of this like an Initiation, like at Atlas.”

“Are you going to throw me off the roof?”

Molly chuckled. “No. This will be much more fun, I promise.”

She led Neon down into the cellar, where Blake and Flash were tied up. Flash squirmed in his chair to keep his eyes on her, while Blake sat still, only glancing Neon’s way out of the corner of her eyes.

Molly drew her pistol and then handed it to Neon.

Neon glanced down at the gun. “I thought they were bait.”

“They don’t need to both be alive in order for people to try and rescue the one who is,” Molly pointed out. “And since we haven’t had the best luck so far, the boss doesn’t want to push it. It’s your choice which one you kill.”

Crap! Neon had not seen this coming. Okay, she hadn’t seen a lot of things coming, which was why she’d been flying by the seat of her hot pants ever since Molly had forced her to dump her scroll, but this? She had just about managed to keep control of the situation thus far – suggesting that they take prisoners rather than just blowing up the hospital first chance they got; stealing Danny’s scroll and using it to call Dash – but this? She didn’t know if Twilight had been able to trace her call yet. How was she supposed to stall shooting one of these two in the head until help arrived?

Why couldn’t I have just remembered to put my scroll on silent?

Her gaze flickered between Blake and Flash. Blake was looking at her now, looking her right in the eyes.

“No!” Rainbow cried. “No way, this is… this is the stupidest plan I have ever heard!”

“That’s because you don’t hear your own plans,” Neon said.

“I’m being serious, Neon,” Rainbow replied. “You want to take up this offer and join the White Fang? What the hell?”

“When are we going to get a better chance than this?” Neon demanded. “We could find out where their base is, where their leadership is, what they’re planning. We could find out all of it! We could end this right here, right now!”

“Or you could get made and killed for nothing,” Rainbow said.

“It’s worth the risk,” Neon insisted.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Yes, it is!” Neon shouted back at her. “I don’t know exactly what you and Blake and all your other friends have found out, but I know enough from watching the news: I know the White Fang have a crapload of dust, and they’re going to use it if we don’t stop them.”

“And you think you can stop them?” Blake asked. “You want to stop them?”

Neon looked at her, elbows resting on the table. “Why don’t you ask the question we all know you want to ask?”

“Why would someone like you be willing to die for a human city?” Blake asked quietly.

Neon was silent for a moment. “Because I’m stronger than they are,” she said. “And so I should be the one to run the risks.”

Blake’s nod was slight, almost imperceptible. “This may cost you more than your life,” she said. “It may cost you your soul.”

Neon hadn’t understood what she meant by that, last night in the club, but now, she did. Now, as she felt the weight of the pistol in her hands, she understood very well.

When it came to a choice between Blake and Flash, there really was no choice.

This was what one of them had signed up for.

She walked around the edges of the room and levelled her pistol, pointed right between Blake’s golden eyes.

“No!” Flash cried, trying desperately to break free of his restraints. “No! Don’t do this! Leave her alone! Take me instead!”

Neon cocked the revolver. The pistol didn’t waver in her hands, because she knew what she had to do.

Blake’s expression was without fear. She stared down the barrel of the gun without emotion.

“All flowers die,” Neon whispered.

Blake’s eyes widened as Neon turned and shot Molly in the gut. Molly staggered backwards as Neon fired again.

The pistol clicked.

Neon looked down at the gun that she now realised had only had one shot in it. “You didn’t trust me after all, huh, Molly?”

“I was right not to trust you wasn’t I, huh, Neon?” Molly replied. She started to shout. “He-”

Blake’s shadow clone disappeared from the seat, even as the real Blake caught Molly with a spinning kick that sent her flying across the cellar. Blake closed the door as Neon dashed around Flask to kick Molly in the face before she could get up, a kick so hard that it flipped her over onto her back.

She looked up at Neon, face twisted into a snarl. “Why?” she demanded.

“Because I’m stronger than they are,” Neon said. “And so I protect those who are weaker than me; I don’t hurt them because I can.” She brought her foot down upon Molly’s face, shattering her aura and laying her out. “Plus, can you really see me in a white mask and a black hood, because I can’t! Can you imagine how unflattering that would be, huh?”

Neither of her two companions seemed to find it funny. At all.

“Nothing?” Neon asked. “Really?”

“Could you have gotten out of those restraints any time?” Flash demanded.

“I’m afraid so,” Blake admitted.

“Then why didn’t you?” Flash demanded.

“It would have been better to wait for rescue,” Neon said. “Except that a certain speedster hasn’t gotten her butt in gear to actually rescue us yet, so-”

“So you should have killed me,” Blake said.

“Excuse me?” Neon gasped.

“Now that you’ve blown your cover, we’ll never find out where the base of the main White Fang force is.”

“Never say never.”

“You know what I mean; you should have put the mission first.”

“How would I explain it to Dashie if I shot you in the face?” Neon demanded.

“Tell her that the mission demanded it.”

“Would you shoot Rainbow because the mission demanded it?” Neon asked.

Blake looked away.

“That’s what I thought,” Neon said. “Anyway, it’s done now, so what are we going to do?”

“Maybe one of you could let me out?” Flash suggested acerbically.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Neon said. “Sorry,” she added as she undid his restraints.

“It’s okay; I’m just glad you’re on our side,” Flash said, as he got up. “But you’re right: we need a plan.”

A gunshot sounded from upstairs, then another, then it sounded like the whole house was being lit up with shooting.

Neon grinned. “Seems like the cavalry arrived. And about time, too.”

Flash bounded up the stairs, leaping over the body – dead or unconscious, he couldn’t say – of a faunus at the top of the stairs as he entered the hall. Gunfire echoed from the upper floors, including Rainbow Dash’s shotgun if his ears were still working right. He caught sight of Cardin standing in the doorway to one of the rooms leading off from the hall, beating a large lion faunus down with his mace.

“Cardin!” Flash called.

Cardin looked at him, blue eyes wide. “Flash! How did you-?”

“Have you caught The Purifier?” Flash demanded, shouting to be heard over the gunfire.

“I don’t think so,” Cardin yelled back. “We’re still-”

He was interrupted by another fighter of the White Fang charging out of a side room, wielding a double-headed axe in two hands. Cardin parried the blow with his mace before hitting his opponent in the face.

Flash left him to it. Cardin was bigger than his opponent, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would win the fight; in the meantime, they had to get The Purifier. This might be their best chance to catch him before he could set off any more bombs, before he could blight any more families.

And so Flash ran to the back of the house, into the kitchen, where he saw that the window had been smashed – and Krasny Krot was running towards the railway line.

“No. No!”

“I’m sorry, Missus Sentry. Your husband was a good man. He’ll be sorely missed.”

The honour guard firing a volley. The commanding officer carefully folding up the flag and handing it to him. His mother crying on the staircase. Images raced through Flash’s mind as he leapt out of the window and gave chase, legs pounding, a wordless shout issuing from his lips.

The soil beneath his feet was black and soft, almost more like compost than dirt, and he slipped a little as he ran, sank slightly into it once or twice, and wasn’t able to move as quickly as he would have liked.

There was a train coming, a train thundering towards them down the line, pounding upon the iron rails. Would it cut off Krasny’s escape or Flash’s pursuit? He couldn’t take the risk. He had to catch this man, he had to stop him, he couldn’t let any more families suffer what he had suffered.

Krasny kept running towards the railway line. He had no intention of stopping for the train; he acted as though it wasn’t even there, no matter how close it got to him, no matter how it bore down upon him. He scrambled up the railway cut even as the train barrelled down the track, and for a moment, Flash thought he would be struck as he crossed the line, but he was just too fast, just too lucky, and he dived across to the other side of the line a second before the train roared past.

And kept on roaring. It was a long train, laden with goods wagons that paraded by in a long, unceasing tail, offering no respite, no gap, no way through, that stretched on in either direction. By the time he waited for the train to pass, it would be too late, and yet, he had no choice but to wait.

He had no choice but to let Krasny get away. To let him go free to continue his campaign of terror.

No choice but to fail.

“Flash!”

Flash turned, and upon instinct, he caught Caliburn in one hand as it was thrown through the air towards him, his fingers closing around the spear’s solid shaft.

Weiss stood upon a shimmering white glyph about an inch above the soil. A slight smile graced one corner of her lip. “I think you’ll be needing that,” she said. “Now, climb on.” She gestured with her free hand to the black glyph that she had conjured up beside Flash.

He would thank her later. For now, there was no time to do anything but to climb up onto the glyph and let it catapult him up into the air, over the passing train to land, feet first, knees buckling beneath him, on the other side.

The other side where he could still see Krasny Krot running, still close enough to be caught.

Flash started to run, but he had not gone too far when he caught sight of the line of white glyphs rolling out beside and in front of him, like a road of shining samite leading to his quarry. He leapt aboard, sliding atop the surface of the glyphs, covering the ground faster than he could have managed on foot, borne along by Weiss’s semblance until he was ahead of Krasny, leaping off the glyphs and slamming the butt of his spear into Krasny’s face.

Krasny staggered backwards. Flash pursued him, swinging his spear in a wide arc to catch his enemy across the side of the head. He thrust forward, driving the point into Krasny’s belly, then hit him in the face – the mask at least – with the shaft when he doubled over. Caliburn switched to sword mode fluidly in Flash’s hands as he slashed swiftly, striking across the face and body to tear through Krasny’s aura before transforming his weapon back into spear form for a final strike that shattered Krasny’s mask and aura both to dump him on his back upon the dark, soft soil.

Flash stood over him, Caliburn raised and poised to strike. Krasny’s aura was gone. A single strike now would be the end of it. A single strike would ensure that he never hurt anyone ever again.

Krasny laid his head back upon the ground. “Kill me then,” he said. “Kill me and have your revenge.”

I don’t want revenge. I want my father back.

“Do it!” Krasny yelled. “One thrust, one single blow! Do you think I hesitated before I killed your father, you weak, cowardly boy!”

Flash bared his teeth, drew Caliburn back-

“Flash!” Weiss cried, gliding towards him upon a line of glyphs just like the ones she had used to hasten him upon his way. She leapt down nimbly, gracefully, her white dress shining against the earthy darkness of this place. “Flash,” she repeated, more softly this time and more gently. “It’s over.”

Flash glanced down at his enemy before him, and then back up at his teammate, his partner, his…

His gaze flickered between the two of them. His enemy was contemptible. He deserved death, if any did. But then, Flash had seen what holding on to your anger and bitterness could do, hadn’t he? He didn’t want to become like Sunset, not even a little bit.

Between the two people before him, there was no choice at all.

Flash found that there were tears welling up in his eyes. He lowered Caliburn. “I’m not like you,” he growled. “I won’t… I’m not like you.”

“You are more like me than you wish,” Krasny said. “Like my injuries, the pain you suffer will never go away.”

“No,” Flash agreed. “It won’t. Just like you’ll go away, for the rest of your life, and you’ll never hurt anyone ever again. Krasny Krot… you’re under arrest.”

Pyrrha could not deny that it was with a sense of relief that she sat down at Sunset’s bedside, her mind put at ease by the knowledge that Team WWSR had apprehended the bomber.

She might not have been able to protect Sunset, but the fact that somebody had… that was enough for today.

Quite enough for today.

She opened up The Mistraliad, pressing down on it so that Sunset’s letter did not fall out again. Pyrrha’s eye glanced down the page until it alighted upon one of the most famous passages, one of the ones which spoke to her the most and which, she believed, would speak to Sunset as well. It was the speech spoken by Lycia to Glauce as they prepared to assault the Elusinian camp.

“'Friend of my soul,'” Pyrrha read, “'were it that, one we were away from this war, we should live forever free from age and death, neither would I myself fight among the foremost, nor would I send thee into battle that ennobles men. But now-'”

“'But now,'” Sunset murmured. “'For none the less ten thousand fates of death surround us – aye, ten thousand of them – let us go, and see whether we shall yield glory to another or they to us.'” She glanced at Pyrrha, her eyes fluttering. “Hey.”

“Sunset!” Pyrrha gasped. “You’re… thank goodness!” She reached out and clasped Sunset’s hand fiercely in her own. “How… how do you feel?”

Sunset struggled to sit up.

“Don’t,” Pyrrha urged. “Just stay where you are.”

Sunset groaned. “What I feel… what I feel is tired and a little groggy, if that makes any sense at all.” She frowned. “Hey, Pyrrha?”

“Yes, Sunset.”

Sunset hesitated. “That’s The Mistraliad, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “It is.”

Sunset licked her lips. “You didn’t, um, did you-?”

“I would prefer not to fight a duel over Blake as though she is a prize to be won,” Pyrrha informed her.

Sunset groaned once more as she flopped back onto her pillow. “I asked you not to be awkward about it!”

“I’m not being awkward,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m simply pointing out that-”

“Teams are supposed to be four people; you’ll need to replace me if I go!”

“What about Team Iron; where are they supposed to be a fourth teammate from?”

“I don’t care about Team Iron; I care about our team and about Blake.”

“I’m sorry, Sunset, but I cannot bring myself to treat Blake like an object,” Pyrrha said primly. “I’m very glad that it’s all turned out to be irrelevant.”

“So am I,” Sunset agreed. “Trust me, so am I.” She paused for a moment. “So, what did I miss?”

The bar was called Pride’s, and slightly old-fashioned jazz music was coming from inside, spilling out into the street alongside the noise of celebration. Lieutenant Martinez – or DJ, as they were apparently to call her off duty – had brought them to celebrate a successful conclusion to their first case. Cardin and Russel were already inside with the police.

Flash, on the other hand, was still lingering outside, the light from within casting a shadow out into the street.

Weiss approached Flash; he didn’t seem to notice as she did so, until she said, “Flash? Do you mind if I join you?”

“I… no,” Flash said quickly. “No, that’s fine.” He stepped to one side a little, so that they did not obstruct the way in too much. “We… we had a good day, didn’t we?”

By any reasonable measure, that was true: The Purifier was in custody, and the White Fang’s bombing campaign stopped before it could start. It had been a good day, and all things considered, it had been a good mission for Team WWSR. But, absurd as it might seem, none of that mattered right now.

“How are you doing?”

“I thought that I might feel better,” Flash replied, his voice a little hoarse. “But I don’t.”

Weiss gently reached out, and took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured. “But not surprised.”

“Because pain doesn’t go away?”

“Because it can’t be vanished,” Weiss said. “Not even by defeating the person who dealt the hurt.”

Flash nodded. “Then… what do we do?”

“Live?” Weiss suggested. “And take comfort from the fact that he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Right,” Flash agreed, a touch of amusement entering his voice. “Today was a good day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “Today was a very good day.”

The music in the Iceberg Lounge pulsed fiercely.

“Well,” Neon said. “We didn’t get the result that we wanted-”

“But we got a result,” Rainbow said. “Stopped a bad guy. Saved you,” she nodded towards Blake.

“Hmm,” Blake murmured.

“Don’t look too happy about it!” Neon cried.

“Sorry,” Blake muttered. “It’s just… Adam is still out there, and back in control – if he was ever not in control. We’re right back where we were yesterday.”

“Could be worse,” Neon told her. “We could be worse off than we were yesterday.”

Blake seemed to consider that for a moment. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“And as for stopping all the others,” Rainbow said. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Blake’s smile widened just a little. She raised her virgin mojito. “To tomorrow,” she said.

“To tomorrow!” Rainbow and Neon agreed, raising their glasses to clink against hers, before each taking a strong swig out of their glasses.

Neon gasped. “I needed that after the day that I’ve had,” she said. “And you ought to have a real drink too, after the day you’ve had,” she added to Blake.

“I’m a baby, remember?” Blake reminded her.

“Who’s to know?” Neon asked.

“Yang, when I get back to the dorm room,” Blake said.

“Ah, one of those team leaders,” Neon said. “Suit yourself, I guess.” She downed some more of her own thoroughly alcoholic cocktail. “You know,” she said with a sigh, “I’m glad we stopped the bomber, and I’m glad we saved Blake, but… I don’t think I’m cut out for undercover work.”

“No,” Blake agreed. “Definitely not.”

“It was… not fun,” Neon said. “Next time I have an idea like that, tell me how stupid it is.”

“I did,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Well, make me listen to you next time,” Neon told her. “It’s the battlefield for me from now on.”

“As a huntress,” Blake asked. “Or as a specialist?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I… I suppose I want to know how much of what you said last night was genuine,” Blake said.

Neon grinned. “I told you that I’ll fight for everyone who’s weaker than me; that includes in the army too. Someone has to protect Dashie, isn’t that right?”

Rainbow snorted. “After what you’ve been through, I’ll let you have that one for free.”

“That’s what I like about you, Dash: you’re always so considerate,” Neon said, before she finished off her drink. “Well,” she declared. “I. Am going to dance. Excuse me, ladies.” She stood up, and sidled out of the booth, leaving Rainbow and Blake alone.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Neon… told me what happened in that cellar.”

Blake was stony-faced. “If she had been more committed to her mission-”

“Then you’d be dead.”

“We might have a lead on Adam’s base, his plans-”

“And you would be dead,” Rainbow repeated, raising her voice a little. “Blake,” she added, sighing, “I want to watch your back, but you have to watch mine too.”

“I do!” Blake cried. “I will.”

“It only works if you want to see the end of the battle as much as I do,” Rainbow informed her sternly.

Blake scowled. “Like Ruby, I’m prepared to die, but I don’t welcome it.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “I wish I could take your word for it.”

“Shouldn’t we all be prepared to give our lives for the success of the mission?” Blake demanded.

“Some victories are worth less than the lives spent to win them,” Rainbow said. “Ask Ciel for an example; I don’t remember the specifics. We’ll get Adam another way, a better way. Walking over your dead body to get to him… it wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“I disagree,” Blake whispered.

“I know,” Rainbow muttered. “That’s what worries me.”

Cinder stood upon a bridge, watching as the police van containing the so-called Purifier drove towards her, moving down the freeway on its way to prison.

“Cinder,” Emerald murmured, “are you sure that this is a good idea?”

Cinder smirked. “Of course it’s a good idea, Emerald,” she said, as a bow of obsidian formed in her hands, shards of glass flying into place. “It’s my idea.” She drew back the bow and loosed a black shaft downwards. It slammed into the surface of the road, where it began to glow, pulsing with waves of orange light.

Cinder’s smirk widened.

The arrow exploded just as the black VPD van drove over it, the blast throwing the vehicle up into the air atop a column of fire. So high rose the van that, for a moment, it was almost as high as Cinder and Emerald on the bridge above, before it fell, spinning wildly in the air, landing heavily on its roof with a sickening crunch as the walls crumpled and the windows shattered.

Cinder chuckled. “Tell me, Emerald, do you think a bomb maker coming to grief from an explosion qualifies as being hoist by one’s own petard?”

Emerald hesitated. “I… I don’t know what that means, Cinder.”

Cinder sighed. “No. No, I suppose you don’t, do you?” Emerald’s skills were valuable, but like all of Cinder’s associates, she was lamentably uneducated and lacking in sophistication.

Sunset, she was sure, would have understood what Cinder meant.

“But I’m sure you’re right,” Emerald said quickly, albeit too late.

“Mmm,” Cinder murmured, as she watched Mercury and Lightning Dust descend upon the stricken vehicle, slaying the surviving police officers with brutal efficiency. “They look like they're having fun, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Emerald muttered. “Fun.”

Cinder laughed. “Emerald, are you squeamish?”

“N-no!” Emerald cried. “Not at all, I just… sorry, Cinder.”

“Wait here,” Cinder said. “Keep watch for any police reinforcements coming.”

Emerald looked a little sullen at being left behind, but nodded. “Will do.”

“Good girl,” Cinder said softly before she leapt down from the bridge onto the freeway below. She landed heavily, her knees buckling as she pounded the ground with one fist, looking like the hero from some big budget extravaganza. The thought pleased her and put a smile on her face as sharp as a knife as she strode around the ruined police van, stepping delicately over the body of a dead police officer, to approach the rear.

Mercury and Lightning had already ripped the rear doors off and killed the cops they had found there. Only The Purifier himself remained, hanging from the floor – which was now the ceiling – by the chains that restrained him. He squirmed futilely, wriggling and writhing like a worm on a hook.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want with me?”

“You thought that you could touch the things that were mine,” Cinder said coldly. “You thought that you could break them with impunity. You thought that you had power, and I had none.” She held out one hand, and fire sprouted in her palm, flickering red and gold. The Purifier mewled in pain as he flinched away from it. “I will show you where power truly lies.”

“No!” he cried. “No, please, anything but-”

Cinder held out her hand, and the hungry flames leapt from her hand to consume the van’s interior.

The Purifier screamed as the fires consumed him, burning him in his chains like meat left too long upon the spit. He screamed. He writhed. He burned. He died.

And Cinder watched. She watched while Mercury and Lightning Dust turned away; she watched as the firelight’s reflections danced in her eyes; she watched, and she listened to him scream, and she smiled.

A dead enemy was always a thing of beauty, but to kill them by fire, that… that was the most beautiful of all.

What a pity that Sunset wasn’t here to share it with her.

A Sense of Safety (New)

A Sense of Safety

Sunset walked into the dorm room and picked up her jacket off the bed.

She noticed Pyrrha sitting on her bed, looking down at her scroll.

“Are you about to call your mother?” Sunset asked. “Or have you done it already?”

Pyrrha started. “Sunset!” she said. “I didn’t hear you come in!” Her eyes narrowed a little. “No,” she added, her voice gaining a little weight. “I mean, I have called her already.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You kept that to yourself.”

“You were… indisposed, at the time,” Pyrrha murmured.

“'Indi-' oh,” Sunset said. “Oh.” She sat down on her bed, elbows resting upon her knees. “Um, was it…? I mean-”

“I thought she ought to know,” Pyrrha said. “About your… condition.”

“I see,” Sunset said softly. Her ears drooped downwards a little bit, even as she bowed her head and lowered her eyes away from Pyrrha. “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing-”

“Yes, there is,” Sunset insisted, looking up once more. “There absolutely is.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I know that I give you grief about not speaking to your mother, and I know that it must seem sometimes as though I am indifferent to your grievance. I’m not. I know that you have cause to be upset, even if I disagree with how you’ve reacted to it. My point is… you didn’t have to speak to her on my behalf, and the fact that you were willing to do so anyway is… I understand what it meant for you to take that step, and I am grateful.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft, and Sunset had to strain with all four ears to hear her. “The doctors… nobody could tell me for certain if you would live or not,” she said. “It made… I couldn’t put my disagreements with my mother over that. She would have been upset to learn of your death, and almost as aggrieved to find that you had perished and I had not told her of it. She’s very fond of you.”

“I’m rather fond of her as well,” Sunset replied. “Which is why it might sometimes appear as though I take her side. Thank you, for telling her.” She smiled, ever so slightly. “Although, now that you’ve told me that you told her that I was in danger, it behooves me now to tell her that I am out of danger, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Unless you have told her yourself?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “No, we have not spoken but that one time.”

“And you have no plans to do so again, do you?”

“I do not,” Pyrrha said, her voice gentle but firm at the same time.

Sunset shook her head. “They say that grief, like a tide, washes away old disagreements and long-held grudges. For all its pain, it has the power to bring people together.”

“But you have recovered and are right as rain,” Pyrrha pointed out. “What is there to grieve?”

“Please don’t tell me that I’ll have to actually die in order to get you and your mother talking to one another,” Sunset groaned.

“No!” Pyrrha cried. “Of course that’s not what I… you’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“In part,” Sunset replied. “I’m beginning to worry that it might come to that.” She frowned. “But in all earnestness… don’t you think that what happened… don’t you think that it should prompt you to think about things?”

Pyrrha sighed. “It did prompt a great deal of thought on my part.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sunset said. “What did you think about?”

Pyrrha hesitated, looking down at the red sash that trailed away from her across her bed. “I was… I suppose that I was feeling guilty, about the fact that I couldn’t save you.”

“From a bomb that you didn’t know was there?” Sunset asked.

“If I can only protect my friends from monsters whom I can see, then I… am only useful in very specific situations, aren’t I?” Pyrrha asked. “Or should I say ‘aren’t we?’ considering that you couldn’t save yourself from that bomb either.”

“If you must,” Sunset muttered. It wasn’t something that she particularly wanted to think about. “I don’t see how anyone, be they the greatest hero who ever lived, could have defended themselves against an attack they didn’t see coming.”

“That’s rather the point, don’t you think?” Pyrrha suggested. “If that is so, then… I began to wonder if the idea of a hero still means anything in this day and age.”

“If it does not, then that says more about the decline of this day and age then about the idea of a hero,” Sunset declared. “Although I’m not sure who you think could have done something about a bomb they didn’t know was there and had no reason to suspect might be there better than a hero could have.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “You make a very good point.”

“The way I see it, it all comes down to just one question,” Sunset went on. “What is a hero’s purpose?”

“To protect the people,” Pyrrha answered at once. “To be their leader in war, their champion, their… shepherd.”

“And to inspire them, wouldn’t you say?” Sunset asked. “To give them hope, to be a light in dark places, to show them virtues they would not otherwise dream of?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Are you about to tell me that people still need to be inspired, even though the times have changed?”

“The times may have changed, but the people have not,” Sunset said. “They still need hope as much as ever, and will need hope as much as they need defenders, and will do so as long as the grimm roam Remnant. Where that hope comes from will vary by the place, and even by the person, but I think that there will come a time in Mistral when the sight of your circlet gleaming bright upon your brow is worth a hundred men on the battlefield.”

“I hope not,” Pyrrha murmured. “In any case, Professor Ozpin and my mother both did a great deal to set my mind at ease.”

“Proof that speaking to her is a good idea, although I wouldn’t necessarily say the same about Professor Ozpin” Sunset said, getting back to the point at hand. “But seriously,” she said, “what I was going to say was that…” She licked her lips. “If things had gone a little differently, if you and Jaune hadn’t been late… it could have been you in the hospital hovering between life and death.” She hesitated. “You are our champion as much as you are Mistral’s, but as your mother told me in Mistral, the mightiest warrior may be felled by a single arrow. Do you... at the risk of sounding manipulative, do you really want to die with bitterness and angry words between you? Do you really want to die without having made your peace with your mother?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “You do sound manipulative,” she declared reproachfully. “But you also make a great deal of sense,” she conceded. “Between our battle on the train, the incident in the forest, and now this bomb… I can’t believe that these four years at Beacon will be free from danger, nor blithely assume that I will live to see my graduation.”

“Don’t get fatalistic on me, for goodness’ sake!” Sunset said sharply. “I’ll fight like hell to keep you alive, but-”

“I understand your meaning, perfectly,” Pyrrha murmured. “I… I will consider it, more earnestly than I have in the past, I must admit. You speak wisely and reproach me well.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sunset said. “Delighted, in fact. May I tell your mother that you are considering it when I speak to her?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she agreed. “Actually, no, I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want her to think that… I would like to be able to act at my own pace, without feeling like I must justify the hopes that you have nurtured in her.”

Sunset nodded. That was fair enough. “Very well,” she said. She paused, wondering if this was the next step she really wanted to take.

It would have been a risk with some people, but this was Pyrrha, the most upright and honourable student at Beacon; she would not take the leeway that Sunset offered her and abuse it.

“While we are on the uncomfortable subject of our possible demises,” Sunset began, choosing her words with some care.

“Must we talk about this, Sunset?” Pyrrha asked. “Isn’t it enough that you’ve made a full recovery?”

“Didn’t we just accept that this won’t be the last time we face death?” Sunset replied. “I’m not going to ask you for very much.”

“Not much more than you did in your letter, you mean?” Pyrrha replied.

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about that,” Sunset said, through slightly gritted teeth. She paused. “Did you… tell anyone else about that?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “Rainbow Dash… and Blake.”

“Oh, no,” Sunset groaned, putting her head in her hands. “How did she take it?”

“She was amused,” Pyrrha explained. “When she thought you might die.”

Sunset groaned again. “I was planning on being safely dead by the time she found out about that,” she pointed out.

“Thank you for leaving me the responsibility,” Pyrrha muttered dryly.

Sunset ran the fingers of both hands through her hair. “Hopefully, she isn’t too upset by it. Anyway, the point is…” She held out one hand, the green glow of magic engulfing it as she levitated the magical journal out from under the bed and into her grasp. “Do you remember this?”

Pyrrha nodded. “You’ve shown it to me before. It’s your magic book, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Sunset agreed. “Every word that gets written here also appears in another book in my home.” She paused. “And that’s why… if I die, I’d like you to write in this book to Princess Celestia and tell her that… that I have fallen.” She had put the princess through enough during her first four years in Remnant, never writing, not saying a single word, leaving Celestia no idea whether she was alive or dead. She would not do that again. She would have Princess Celestia learn the truth as soon as possible, so that she might… so that she might move forward as soon as possible.

“Princess Celestia?” Pyrrha repeated. “Is that… you’ve only called her your teacher before.”

“I can hardly ask you to write to ‘Sunset’s teacher’ can I?” Sunset replied.

“I suppose not,” Pyrrha said, a slight trace of amusement entering her voice. “But a princess? I suppose that explains a great deal.” She fell silent for a few moments before she said, “I will do it, of course, but… merely to write hardly seems reciprocal when I have charged you to bear my arms and circlet home to the crypt of my ancestors. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to go in person, to tell your story to the princess face to face?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to put you out like that.”

“It is no trouble to bring word of a comrade’s death to their home,” Pyrrha said. “It is the most sacred and solemn errand a friend may perform.”

“Nevertheless, my home is unusually remote,” Sunset insisted. “Merely to write to the princess will… satisfy me, if that makes any sense.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Very well. I will do as you ask, and content myself to say that I am honoured by your trust. In this and in those things that you would rather we did not speak of.”

“There is no one I trust more,” Sunset whispered. She clapped her hands together. “But now, we can put aside these grave matters and concentrate on making sure that nobody dies and I don’t have to carry your possessions home and you don’t have to write to my princess.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. Her brow furrowed somewhat. “Sunset, may I ask you something else? If Celestia is your princess, and your teacher, why do you swear by her?”

Sunset’s mouth opened for some little time before any words emerged. “That… yeah, that… that is something that she doesn’t know about. Everyone does it, just not where she can hear us. It’s a sign of the reverence in which we hold her.”

“Like unto a god?” Pyrrha asked.

“I suppose you could say that,” Sunset acknowledged. “Skilled in magic as she is, she is the closest thing to a god that we have ever seen.”

“And yet she would not wish you to see her so?” Pyrrha said. “Given that you do not refer to her thus in her presence.”

“I… I don’t know whether she would like it or no, but I suspect not,” Sunset murmured. “She… Princess Celestia is a lot like you in some respects, she dislikes to be put upon a pedestal.”

“And yet you dislike me for the same,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset winced. “I… could observe my princess’s attitudes, but not understand them.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “In any event, it doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry if you thought that I was… I shouldn’t have brought it up. Were you going somewhere?”

“Hmm?”

“You came in and picked up your jacket,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“Oh, I was just about to make a quick run to Benni Havens’; do you want anything?”

“I might come with you, if that’s alright,” Pyrrha suggested.

“Fine by me; I’ll be glad of the company,” Sunset said. “So, what’s up?”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “What makes you think that anything is up?”

“The fact that you were staring at your scroll so intently when I came in,” Sunset explained. “I mean, if it’s private, just say so, but-”

“No, it’s fine.” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “It’s a request for a comment from a Mistral newspaper. They don’t normally approach me directly; my mother handles all of my… well, she’s my agent so… I suppose that it’s sufficiently well known that she and I are… that they thought they could take a chance on contacting me directly.”

“I see,” Sunset said. “What do they want you to comment on?”

Pyrrha frowned. “Apparently… there are some in Mistral who are beginning to argue that Haven should pull out of this year’s Vytal Festival.”

“'Pull out'?” Sunset repeated. “Is that… is that even possible? Could they do that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pyrrha replied. “I haven’t studied the tournament by-laws, but I should think that if every Haven student went home – if Professor Lionheart or the Council were to order them to return – there wouldn’t be anything that anyone could do to stop them. Nobody can be forced to compete, after all.”

“Yes, of course not, you couldn’t threaten them into the arena, but still,” Sunset said, “who’s saying that and why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Pyrrha asked. “They say it’s not safe here in Vale, for the students or for the visitors from Mistral who will come to Vale to watch the tournament.”

“Because of the White Fang,” Sunset murmured.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha responded.

Sunset winced. “I know it worried your mother a little; she confessed as much when we visited over the break.”

“And it’s gotten worse since then,” Pyrrha added.

“No, it hasn’t!” Sunset cried. “We caught Torchwick-”

“Which hasn’t stopped the White Fang themselves,” Pyrrha pointed out. “We caught Torchwick, and then you almost died from a bomb that was set off in the middle of Vale; anyone without aura would have been killed instantly.”

“The bomb maker is dead, and all his associates are in police custody,” Sunset pointed out.

“But the White Fang is still at large with more than enough dust to make many more bombs if they so choose,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset clenched her jaw. “So… you agree then? You think that Haven ought to pull out of the tournament, that the Mistralians ought to stay at home? You think it’s not safe here?”

Pyrrha was silent for a few moments. “I… I do not want to say so,” she admitted. “I don’t want to go on record as saying that Vale is too dangerous, that Haven should turn its back upon a celebration of unity and peace, but… but you nearly died, Sunset. Not in battle, not against grimm, not even facing the White Fang; you were blown up, you and Ruby both, in Vale. In Vale! How can I say that Vale is safe and there is nothing to worry about when such things are happening?”

“It only happened once,” Sunset muttered.

“If you had died, do you think it would have been any consolation to any of us that this had only happened once?” Pyrrha demanded.

Sunset looked away. “Well… fair point,” she conceded. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“That’s rather cowardly, don’t you think?” Pyrrha asked. “If I don’t have the courage to speak the truth as I see it, then how am I supposed to call myself a huntress?”

“Silence isn’t a lie.”

“Perhaps not, but it is not the truth either,” Pyrrha insisted.

“And the truth is that you don’t think Vale is safe?” Sunset asked. “If you think that, then… then why are you still here?”

“I’m not afraid for myself,” Pyrrha insisted. “But for the people who come for the festival in normal years… the Atlesians came to protect Vale, but they haven’t stopped the White Fang; at best, they’ve driven them underground. The Purifier may be dead, but… who knows what else they’re planning with all of that stolen dust, and nobody seems to have a clue where they are. In the circumstances, would you really advise people to come?”

I don’t have anyone whom I could advise to come or not, was the glib response that came to Sunset’s mind immediately, but which died upon the tip of her tongue as she realised that it was not entirely true. Yes, Princess Celestia wasn’t going to pop over from the other side of the mirror to watch Team SAPR win great glory in the tournament, but there was Lady Nikos. She, certainly, would wish to come to Vale, to taste the fruits of her success, to be present as her only daughter and her pride triumphed over all others in the greatest stage in Remnant. Did Sunset want her there? Yes, to see their glory, but would she want her there at the risk of her own life? “No,” she confessed. “No, I would bid your mother remain safe in Mistral and content herself with watching the live coverage.” She paused. “You have a television at home, right? I don’t think I actually saw one in your house.”

“Well, we never use it to entertain guests,” Pyrrha replied. “But, yes, there is one.” She paused. “You agree, then? It isn’t safe?”

“Saying it isn’t safe makes it sound like a warzone out there,” Sunset muttered. “But… I agree. It is… I don’t think anyone can guarantee the safety of Vale or the people in it right now.” She folded her arms. “Of course, if you really think that Vale is too dangerous, then surely the thing to do is to cancel the tournament?”

“You can’t want that,” Pyrrha said in disbelief.

“Of course I don’t want that!” Sunset squawked. “I’m just saying that it’s the sensible thing to do in a crisis.”

“It would be an admission that there really is a crisis,” Pyrrha observed. “That being the case, I can see why Professor Ozpin and the Valish Council want to hold off on taking such a step for as long as they can.”

Professor Ozpin would be happy to see us all dead, and the Valish Council too, Sunset thought. After all, they’ve already left us to die once. She didn’t say it, though; this wasn’t the right time, and it would just turn the whole discussion at a right angle until they lost the thread. And the thread was grim enough already. “I suppose.”

Pyrrha looked out of the window. “I wish…” she began, but then trailed off.

“You wish there was more that we could do?” Sunset guessed.

“I wish that we had the skills to do something,” Pyrrha explained. “Team Wisteria seem to have done well working with the police… somehow, I doubt we’d have fared so well in their place.”

Sunset snorted. “Maybe not.”

Pyrrha did not smile, although she did stand up. “Sunset, will you excuse me for a moment? There’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Be my guest,” Sunset replied. “I need to call your mother anyway.”

“Yes, of course,” Pyrrha said. “Well then, I’ll meet you out in the courtyard?”

“Sure.”

“Good,” Pyrrha answered. “I shall see you soon then, Sunset.” Moving quickly, and with purpose in her stride, she took her leave of Sunset and the dorm room.

Sunset waited until the door closed behind her before she called Lady Nikos.

It took very little time for Lady Nikos to answer, her face appearing in the screen of the device. “Miss Shimmer,” she said, in a voice that verged upon tenderness. “Either I am succumbing to hallucinations, or you are out of danger.”

“I am glad to say that it is the latter, my lady.”

“And I am delighted to hear it,” Lady Nikos replied. “I must confess that when Pyrrha told me the news, I was… concerned.”

“My lady, I do not know if I should apologise for making you concerned or take credit that I brought you and Pyrrha together, if only for a brief moment.”

Lady Nikos’ expression hardened. “I understand the purpose of the jest, Miss Shimmer, but I find it in somewhat poor taste.”

Sunset swallowed. “I apologise, my lady; it was not my intent to give offence.”

“I should hope not,” Lady Nikos said. “You will understand that I wish that Pyrrha had chosen to speak to me under happier circumstances.”

“I wish that too, my lady,” Sunset replied. Just as I wish she’d let me tell you that she is better disposed to the idea of making amends now than she had been. “Upon the subject of Jaune’s ancestry-”

“Since I can only imagine you are but recently discharged from care, Miss Shimmer, I will forgive some lack of progress on the front,” Lady Nikos said.

“Thank you, my lady; I was about to say that it may have to wait until the summer break, before…” Sunset paused, her and Pyrrha’s earlier discussion coming to mind. Who was to say that the Vytal Festival would, in fact, go ahead? It might come to the end of the semester and someone would decide to put the breaks on it due to the ongoing White Fang threat. Still, there was no evidence of that happening yet, and there was no need to clog up the discussion with hypotheticals. “Before the Vytal Festival begins. Jaune knows very little about his lineage, but when school breaks up, I may be able to go to his home and see if something can be turned up.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “You are an intelligent young woman, Miss Shimmer, so I trust you understand what is required of you in this business?”

“I understand that my lady does not require proof so positive as will convince a court of law,” Sunset replied. “But my lady must have something beyond mine or Jaune’s assertions, no?”

“That would be for the best, Miss Shimmer, yes.”

“Then I have no choice but to venture out and search for it, my lady. You must give me time.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “I would not ask you to disrupt your studies on account of my errand, even if the school would allow it. Very well. I have wasted enough time in stubbornness; I suppose I can afford to be patient with you. In the meantime… how do you feel? After your… unpleasant experience?”

“I think that Pyrrha was more shaken by it than I was,” Sunset said. I had the luxury of being unconscious.

“She has spoken to you about her concerns?”

“I have done my best to put them at ease, my lady,” Sunset said. “The world, and those who dwell in it, will always need those who can inspire them the way that Pyrrha inspires us.”

“Thank you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said, inclining her head forwards a little. “I see from the news that he who orchestrated the attack on you is dead.”

“Yes, my lady,” Sunset agreed. “Perhaps his associates were afraid he would talk.”

“When one chooses to keep company with terrorists and criminals, I suppose one must be prepared to accept such things,” Lady Nikos declared. “I, for one, am glad that he cannot menace you or Pyrrha any longer.”

“Indeed, my lady, I do not find his death troubling,” Sunset agreed. “Although I am a little concerned that we are so well known among the White Fang that they should seek to target us.”

“To be renowned amongst one’s enemies is to be accounted fearsome,” Lady Nikos pointed out.

“Amongst honourable adversaries, that is true, and I would accept it gladly,” Sunset said. “But to be known by brigands and killers who strike from the darkness without warning… it is not so comfortable.”

“And what will you do about it, Miss Shimmer?”

“I… am not certain, my lady, save that I will not live in fear.”

“If you did, Miss Shimmer, you would not be who I thought you were.”

“I am glad to live up to my lady’s expectations,” Sunset replied. She hesitated. “My lady, may I broach another matter with you? Pyrrha and I have discussed it, and I think she must be as concerned as I am.”

“It must be concerning indeed, to concern you both,” Lady Nikos murmured.

“My lady,” Sunset began. “Do you intend to travel to Vale for the Vytal Festival?”

“Indeed I do,” Lady Nikos replied at once. “I have some hope – albeit a somewhat fading hope – that Pyrrha and I will have reconciled by that time, but even if not, she will still be my daughter and still competing in the Vytal Festival. I cannot think of anywhere that I would wish to be instead of watching Pyrrha’s victories live.” Her green eyes narrowed. “Why? Do you wish me to stay away?”

“I… we fear the danger, my lady,” Sunset murmured.

“I thought you would not live in fear, Miss Shimmer?”

“I will not, my lady, but I am content to ask you to do so,” Sunset replied. “When the White Fang may strike in the heart of Vale-”

“Not with impunity, it seems,” Lady Nikos countered. “The miscreants were arrested that very day, no?”

“True, my lady, but the organisation remains, for the most part, well-concealed in spite of all efforts by ourselves and others,” Sunset explained. “Surely you must understand our concerns. You shared them yourself, once upon a time.”

“I did, until you persuaded me that my concerns were groundless, once upon a time,” Lady Nikos reminded her.

“I did not expect… this,” Sunset admitted. “And in any case, for all the danger… my lady, I mean it as no insult to say that you are no longer in the prime of your strength-”

“You may call me weak and frail, Miss Shimmer; I will not be offended.”

“My tongue would be offended to be put to such crass purposes, my lady,” Sunset declared. “I merely mean that it is a different thing for you to hazard your life than it is for Pyrrha or myself.”

Lady Nikos said, “You are not alone in this sentiment, Miss Shimmer; there are those in Mistral who decry the peril that is to be found in Vale.”

“I know, my lady,” Sunset said. “It was Pyrrha mentioning it that brought this on.”

“So far, Professor Lionheart has set his face against the clamour,” Lady Nikos said. “It is strange; I did not expect him to possess such backbone. He says that it would shame Haven Academyand Mistral to shrink before the threat of the White Fang. I am inclined to agree.”

“That is a fine sentiment for a headmaster, my lady, and applicable to the students, but I think it is not for the common tourists to uphold the honour of Mistral by hazarding their lives.”

“I am no common tourist, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos remarked pointedly.

“Indeed, my lady; I did not… forgive me,” Sunset murmured. “You are determined beyond persuasion, then?”

“To train Pyrrha for this moment has been the work of many years, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “The culmination of everything that I have worked for. If I must put my life at risk to witness the flowering of my ambitions, then I shall do so, and gladly.”

Sunset smiled slightly. “Then I must make sure Vale is safe for your arrival, my lady, for I would not have the realising of your dreams disturbed.”

“That would be very kind of you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos replied, amusement in her voice. “The more promptly the better.”

Sunset chuckled. “Do you think the arguments to stay away will gain much ground, my lady?”

“I cannot say,” Lady Nikos admitted. “There is so much wild talk about these days, I scarcely know what to believe. But I think that, while the tournament goes ahead and Mistralian students participate, there will still be those drawn to the allure of the arena. But that is no more than a surmise.”

“It is more than I could have said, my lady, thank you,” Sunset said. “I will not keep you further. Good day, my lady.”

“Good day, Miss Shimmer.”

Pyrrha walked down the corridor of the dormitories currently being used by the Atlesian students, and stopped outside of Team RSPT’s room.

She waited just a second, gathering her thoughts and fussing with her sash just a little, and then knocked upon the door.

Twilight opened the door a moment later. “Oh, hey Pyrrha, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Well, not specifically, at least.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Twilight pointed out.

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’m glad you’re here. Is Rainbow Dash there, too?”

“Hi, Pyrrha!” Rainbow called from inside the room.

“Hello again, Rainbow Dash,” Pyrrha replied, craning over Twilight a little to see inside the room; she still couldn’t actually catch sight of Rainbow Dash. “May I come in?”

“Oh, of course,” Twilight said, backing away instantly to admit Pyrrha into the dorm room. Rainbow was lying on her back upon her bed at the far end of the room, reading a book with a very lively-looking cover, as best as Pyrrha could tell at this distance.

Penny and Ciel were sat at the desk, both reading from the same book.

“Pyrrha!” Penny cried excitedly as Pyrrha entered, her body twisting around and her eyes lighting up.

Pyrrha smiled. “Hello, Penny.” She closed the door behind her.

“It’s good to see you again!” Penny declared cheerfully. “Especially now!”

Pyrrha blinked. “'Especially now'?”

Ciel sighed. “Penny is hoping for a distraction from her homework, aren’t you, Penny?”

Penny pouted. “I don’t see why I can’t just have all of this information downloaded into my brain.”

“Because your processing matrix is modelled after a human brain, with the intention that knowledge should be absorbed in the same way,” Twilight explained. “There’s a danger the direct application of too much data could trigger a memory overload, and even if it didn’t, you’d still be left with an enormous quantity of facts in your data banks without actually understanding them or the connections between them.”

“Learning is more than just knowledge,” Ciel added. “Learning is comprehension as well.”

“But it’s incomprehensible!” Penny complained.

“What is it that you’re studying?” Pyrrha asked, taking a step closer to where Penny sat.

“History,” Penny groaned.

“Really?” Pyrrha asked, a little surprised despite herself. She’d always found history very easy to grasp, although perhaps that was because it was one of her favourite subjects. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“The only problem is that someone is unwilling to apply herself,” Ciel declared.

“Why?” Penny demanded. “What does any of this matter?”

“Because our ancestors made a great many mistakes, and achieved some signal triumphs nonetheless,” Pyrrha said softly. “And we must learn which were the first and which the second so that we may enhance the triumphs and avoid the mistakes.”

Penny looked up at her. “Like what?”

“Well… such as…” Pyrrha thought for a moment. “Such as the Great War, I suppose; only by learning of the costs and horrors or the war can we understand why it is so vital to preserve peace between our kingdoms and maintain unity against the true threat from the grimm.”

“And the White Fang,” Penny suggested.

“No, the White Fang… the White Fang exist because we failed to learn from history, I fear,” Pyrrha replied. “After the Revolution, we should have learned the folly of racism, the costs of division, of driving one race to feel they had no choice but to take up arms. But the lesson was not learned, and so here we are, doomed to conflict with those who ought be our friends.”

Rainbow looked a little uncomfortable at that; she sat up and said, “I’m sure you didn’t come down here, Pyrrha, to help Penny with her homework.”

“Although I hope you did,” Penny added.

Pyrrha chuckled. “I’m afraid not,” she confessed. “I came here because I wanted to talk to you about something. Particularly Rainbow and Twilight.”

Ciel started to get up. “Do you require privacy?”

“No, no,” Pyrrha replied. “And I won’t disturb you long, I promise. But may I sit down?”

“Sure thing,” Rainbow said, gesturing to one of the empty beds.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Twilight asked.

“No, thank you; I’m going to Benni Havens’ with Sunset afterwards,” Pyrrha said.

“Fair enough,” Twilight said, as she sat down on Rainbow’s bed beside her team leader. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, considering where she ought to begin. “I… I suppose I want to ask you about your friends, the ones who came to visit you just before the start of the semester with their sisters.”

“What about them?” Rainbow asked.

“At the time, I think they said something about coming to Vale again, for the Vytal Festival,” Pyrrha said. “I was wondering… I suppose I was wondering if that was still their plan, or if they, or if you, had changed your mind on account of the danger.”

Silence descended in the dorm room. None of the members of Team RSPT spoke for a little while, as an uncomfortable look passed between Rainbow and Twilight.

“Why do you ask, Pyrrha?” inquired Penny.

Pyrrha glanced at her. “Because there are people in Mistral who think that Vale has become too dangerous to host the Vytal Festival-”

“Can they change the venue now?” came the next question from Penny.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “But Haven could withdraw from this year’s tournament.”

Penny gasped. “Haven is going to pull out?”

“Not necessarily, but some people in my home country would like it too,” Pyrrha explained. She glanced away from Penny. “To be frank, I’m not sure that I would like my mother to come here under these circumstances, and not because she and I have fallen out, either,” she added quickly, lest anyone get the wrong idea. “But because I’m not sure that it will be safe for them.”

Once more, a silence fell, and once more that silence was broken by Penny, “Does that mean we failed?”

“No, Penny,” Pyrrha said. “Why would you say that?”

“I thought that General Ironwood brought his forces here so that people would feel safe,” Penny said. “But it seems like that hasn’t happened, has it? People are even more scared than before.”

“Penny,” Ciel said gently. She paused upon the name, searching for the words or at least that was how Pyrrha interpreted it. “Failure,” she went on, “is a harsh word, and yet, without meaning to traduce the General, I must confess that the deployment of our squadrons has been of little use in curbing the activity of the White Fang.”

“The robberies have trailed off since we nailed Torchwick,” Rainbow pointed out defensively.

“And yet we are no closer to recovering the stolen dust or from finding out the whereabouts of the White Fang base,” Ciel pointed out.

“I must say, I didn’t expect to hear such sentiments from you,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I am a patriot; I am not blind,” Ciel said. “The very continued presence of our fleet confirms that we have not yet completed our mission. If Vale were not still under threat, our forces would have no reason to stay.”

“Yeah, but be fair, the General didn’t bring the fleet to find any hidden White Fang base,” Rainbow said. “He brought the fleet so that when the other shoe dropped, we’d have the firepower to be ready for it. I don’t know for sure what the White Fang is doing with all that dust, but I’ve got a pretty good guess as to what it is.”

“Go on,” Ciel said, in a neutral tone.

“They’re raising an army,” Rainbow replied, as though the answer was obvious. “Blake explained that they didn’t use to field a lot of men like they did at the docks; they just used a small group of elites. That’s changed now; they’ve got a lot of guys, and they’ve stolen some of our prototype Paladins too, and other military gear before we stopped them from hitting our trains. They need the dust for fuel and ammo because they’ve got a lot more men and a lot more firepower than they used to have. That’s why the General brought the fleet, so that however much extra firepower they have won’t help them when they make their play because we’ll still have more guns and more bombs than they do, and we’ll rule the skies. Don’t call us failures when we haven’t been tested yet.”

“A fair point,” Ciel conceded. “The bulk of our forces have yet to be engaged, and yet, Penny also speaks true, I think. Did we not also come in the hope that morale would be improved by the sight of our ships overhead? It appears that it has not been so. And, more to Pyrrha’s point, I am not sure that I would want my parents or my brothers to come to Vale under these present circumstances. I have no doubt that we would hold the city against external assault, but the White Fang could do great harm that would not be so easily prevented.”

“That was my thought,” Pyrrha murmured. “I am… a little sad that you agree with me.”

“We haven’t spoken to Rarity, Pinkie, or Fluttershy about changing their plans,” Twilight said.

“And we’re not going to,” Rainbow declared. “If they decide it’s not safe for them or their sisters, then that’s fine, but we’re not going to tell them that they shouldn’t come.”

“No?” Pyrrha asked, a little surprised.

“No,” Rainbow confirmed. “After we got done beating the White Fang at Canterlot, Cadance and Shining Armor got married that same evening, as soon as everything was cleaned up and they could hold the ceremony. They didn’t put it off and send everyone home because of the attack. They got married fast as they could because you can’t let these jackasses terrify you out of living your life. If you do that, then they’ve half-won.”

“But that was after you’d already beaten the attack,” Pyrrha pointed out. “It’s one thing to celebrate a victory but another to revel in the shadow of attack, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that what we do all the time?” Rainbow asked. “Sure, maybe things are a little more dangerous with the White Fang in Vale right now, but it’s not like the world is ever not dangerous. The grimm are always out there, and some places are safer than others, but those other places… really aren’t safe. But we still go to parties and have picnics and hang out with our friends and do all kinds of fun, ordinary stuff, right? There’s a whole bunch of grimm in the forest just past the cliffs, but we’re still having a dance up here at the school.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Then… are you really not worried? Or rather, would you really not be worried about them, if they came here?”

“I’m always worried about them,” Rainbow admitted. “All the time. Whether they were here or in Atlas, nothing would change.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. That was not a position she had considered before, but now that she did consider it… it made a certain degree of sense. Not everyone would agree, of course, and that was their perfect right, but nevertheless, it was not nonsense.

It might even be something she could say to the newspaper.

Sunset’s foot tapped against the wall as she waited for Pyrrha. She folded her arms, glancing back and forth, and it was while she was glancing that she caught sight of Cinder sauntering her way.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Or should I ask: is something else wrong?”

Sunset shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just waiting for Pyrrha, we’re going to go for coffee.”

“Ah,” Cinder replied.

Sunset hesitated. “Would you like to come with us?”

Cinder smiled. “Very kind of you to offer, but I won’t impose my company on Pyrrha. No, I just wanted to see how you were doing, after your… experience.”

Sunset shrugged. “I’m feeling much better now,” she said.

“You’re taking this very much in stride,” Cinder said. “Almost dying, by a bomb of all things.”

Sunset grinned. “A lot of people would find it odd that you say that like dying by bomb is worse than other forms of death.”

“Some, perhaps,” Cinder allowed. “But not you. You know exactly what I mean.”

Sunset nodded. “I hope for something a little more… glorious.”

“Precisely,” Cinder agreed. “I’m… sorry that that had to happen to you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Nevertheless,” Cinder murmured. “What was it like?”

“What?”

“Hovering,” Cinder said, “between life and death?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t remember,” she said. “It was all… if there’s anything there I’ve forgotten it.”

“I see,” Cinder murmured. “That’s… rather disquietening.”

“Were you hoping for a life after death?” Sunset asked.

Now it was Cinder’s turn to pause for a moment. “In Mistral, it was once commonly believed that the souls of the dead descended deep beneath the mountain, to wait to be born anew beside the banks of the Asheroth.”

“It may yet be so,” Sunset ventured. “Remember, I didn’t actually die.”

Cinder chuckled. “No,” she agreed. “No, you did not, thank goodness. But the person who sought your death did die, proving that there is still a little justice in the world, don’t you think.”

“It saves me the trouble of hunting him down, for sure,” Sunset muttered.

Cinder cocked her head to one side. “Would you?” she asked. “Would you have hunted him down?”

“I wouldn’t have devoted my every waking moment to it, but…” Sunset paused. Surely if she could say it in front of anyone she could say it in front of Cinder. “It wasn’t just me he caught in the blast, remember?”

Cinder nodded. “Ruby.”

“Let’s just say he’d be on my list right next to Adam Taurus,” Sunset declared.

Cinder smiled. “But someone saved you the bother.”

“Right,” Sunset agreed. “Whoever they are, I’d like to shake their hand for that.”

Cinder’s smile widened. “Really? Well, I’m glad to see that you are still yourself. There are so many horror stories about people’s personalities changing after they get hit on the head. As I say: I’m glad that you’re still you.” She patted Sunset on the shoulder, before she added. “And now I’d best be on my way; I’m sure that Pyrrha will be here soon.” She turned her back on Sunset and walked away, but with a spring in her step that had definitely not been there before.

Lieutenant Martinez was waiting for them as the elevator door slid upwards. “Thanks for coming, kids,” she said.

“How could we not come back, Lieutenant?” Weiss asked lightly as she stepped out of the elevator. “Russel spends more time here than he does at Beacon.” Indeed, while Flash and Cardin followed her out of the lift, Russel was already down in the Basement, working on the computer.

Lieutenant Martinez held up her hands. “Guilty,” she admitted. “In my defence, our tech guy is still off sick, and Russel here is turning out to be quite the little genius, ain’t you, Russel?”

“I’m trying my best, Lieutenant,” Russel said.

“You’re best is plenty good,” Lieutenant Martinez told him. “And don’t let anybody tell you that it’s not. I tell my boys, I say if you want to be something in today’s world, you learn how to use a computer; that’s where the future is. Knuckledraggers like me are a dying breed.”

“I hope not,” Cardin muttered.

Lieutenant Martinez smirked. “Well,” she said as she grabbed a cup of coffee off the nearest desk, in a mug with ‘Remnant’s Greatest Mom’ painted on it in yellow, “that’s what they tell me whenever I have to venture up to Westmorland Yard.”

“You can find out a lot of stuff from a computer,” Russel said. “But you still need someone to go in and put the cuffs on somebody. Or kill the monster,” he added, glancing towards his teammates.

“You can do both,” Flash pointed out. “I guess that puts you a cut above the rest of us.”

Russel glanced away and didn’t reply.

“So, is there another case?” Cardin asked. “Is there more White Fang trouble?”

“I hope not; we only just put out the last fire,” Flash replied.

Lieutenant Martinez put down the coffee. “Fortunately, no, there isn’t a new case. At least not one involving the White Fang. I asked you to come down here on a Saturday because I thought you might like to know how the old case turned out. Russel, show them what you’ve got.”

“Okay,” Russel said. “So, you know when we were looking at the safehouses used by The Purifier, both of those properties were owned by the same corporation?”

“The Eastern Promise Holding Company,” Weiss murmured. “That was the name, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Russel agreed. “I didn’t know what that was, but the lieutenant has had me digging through the records to try and find out who’s behind the name.”

“With Krasny Krot dead, the man behind that company might be our best lead into the wider White Fang,” Lieutenant Martinez explained. “He owned two properties where members of the White Fang holed up; he had to know what they were being used for.”

“Did you check out his other properties?” Cardin asked.

“All of them, and all of them empty,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “If any of them were being used, they were cleared out quickly. But the good news is that Russel was able to follow the trail to put a name to the Eastern Promise Holding Company.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing down here,” Weiss murmured.

Russel chuckled. “It’s something that I can do, you know? Something that I… I did some digging around, and I got lucky.”

“No such thing as luck; you did good,” Lieutenant Martinez insisted. “Tell them who it is.”

“Okay,” Russel said. “The owner of the Eastern Promise Holding Company and backer of the White Fang is...” He tapped on his keyboard, and upon the big screen at the back of the room appeared the image of a man, a dog faunus with floppy Labrador ears descending on either side of his head. That was the only really distinguishing feature of an ordinary looking man: average height, a little portly but not too much so, with a round, somewhat pudgy face, dark hair, no real distinguishing features other than his faunus trait. “Aurelius Vibius, the commercial attache at the Mistralian embassy.”

“A diplomat?” Flash said. “Why would a diplomat want to work with the White Fang?”

“We don’t know yet,” Lieutenant Martinez admitted. “What we do know is that he has accounts with three different banks here in Vale, all under false identities, who receive money from an account in Mistral, most of that money goes into-”

“The Eastern Promise Holding Company,” Flash said.

“Correct,” Lieutenant Martinez replied. “We figure the rest goes into petty cash for the White Fang.”

“And what does this scumbag have to say for himself?” Cardin said. “Have you brought him in yet? Can we help with that?”

“No, and unfortunately no,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “He’s a diplomat, so-”

“Diplomatic immunity,” Flash groaned.

“But he’s a terrorist!” Cardin cried. “Surely the Mistralians-”

“The Mistralians have decided that this is their problem, and they want to handle this in-house,” Lieutenant Martinez explained. “The word we got from their embassy is that Vibius will be shipped home to be interrogated by their authorities.”

Cardin folded his arms. “So they get all the juicy intel on the White Fang, and we get nothing?”

“They’ve promised full cooperation,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “And to make sure that we get it, Sergeant Yuma is getting a paid vacation, isn’t that right, Yuma?”

Sergeant Yuma looked up from his desk. “It’s not a vacation, El-Tee,” he said wearily. “I’m the official liaison-”

“Liaison between the VPD and the Imperial Constabulary, yeah, I know,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “But you’re still going to have some fun, right?”

Yuma grinned. “Oh, you betcha, El-Tee.”

Lieutenant Martinez smirked. “His new partner is probably going to turn out to be some martial arts freak; he’ll never want to come home.”

“What about the girl, Krot’s apprentice?” Flash asked. “What’s she saying?”

“Stuff about how the White Fang works in Mistral and Menagerie, not so much about Vale; it seems she’d just got off the boat when we picked her up,” Lieutenant Martinez replied.

Flash sighed. “So… we’ve got nothing that will help unravel the whole organisation?”

“Is that what you were hoping for?” Lieutenant Martinez asked. “That ain’t how this works, Flash. The kind of cases where you get the one guy who knows everything about the criminal empire and will sing like a canary about it, the cases where you get the one ledger that has all the evidence you need to arrest the boss and his whole inner circle, in my whole career I’ve worked one case where we had that kind of luck, and this ain’t it. Most cases, when you’re dealing with an organisation like the White Fang, you do some damage, you pick up a few people, if you’re lucky, you get a key man, but everything is so compartmentalised that the shock doesn’t spread very far. Yeah, it’s not all that you hoped for, but by most standards? We did good. We stopped a bombing campaign almost before it could start, we snatched up a group of elite operatives, and we identified their money guy here in Vale. I called you three down here to tell you that because that’s a win. That is a damn good win, and you ought to be proud of yourselves.” She paused, taking in the unconvinced expression on Flash’s face. “Let me ask you kids something: when you all become huntsmen, what do you think, it’s gonna be easy? Do you think you’re gonna just stride out there and save the world?”

“Of course not,” Weiss replied. “It will be hard work, and almost always on the defensive.”

Lieutenant Martinez nodded. “So why would it be any different here? Flash, Cardin, I told you both that we fight monsters, just like you, only our monsters aren’t so easily spotted sometimes. But we fight them, just like you, and just like you, we’re on the defensive, and just like you, we put a lot of hard work in, and it isn’t always obvious that we made a difference. But we do. Every day, every time we put someone behind bars where they can’t hurt anyone else, Vale is a little safer. Vale is a little safer today, and you played your part in that. So cheer up!” She grinned. “I told your headmaster how much of a help you were.”

Weiss felt her back straighten. “Thank you, Lieutenant!” Our first mission, and we got a commendation! Team Wisteria might just be on it’s way up.

“You don’t need to thank me for nothing, certainly not for something you earned,” Lieutenant Martinez told her. “I don’t know if you’ll get the chance to work with me again, but whether you do or not, I’m sure you’ll do great up at that fancy school.” She paused, and assumed a mock stern manner, “So don’t prove me wrong, okay?”

“We have no intention of that, Lieutenant,” Weiss promised. “Keep an eye on us, and I promise that you’ll see us shine.”

Taking Shape (New)

Taking Shape

Yang opened the door before Ruby had managed to knock on it. “Hey, Rubes, come on in.”

“How did you know I was here?” Ruby asked from the other side of an armful of fabric bolts as she walked in. “I didn’t even get a chance to-”

“I could hear you from the other side of the door,” Yang replied, an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. “Need a hand?”

“I need to be able to see over all this,” Ruby muttered. “Times like this, I wish I was as tall as Pyrrha.”

Yang chuckled. “Well, you’re here now, so it’s all good.”

Ruby walked in and dumped her fabrics on the floor of the YRBN dorm room. “Thanks for letting me use the room. I can’t use our dorm room because I don’t want Sunset or Pyrrha to see what I’m working on, or Penny either, and-”

“And you’re not worried if I find out what you’re working on, right?” Yang asked, in a mock stern tone, putting her hands on her hips.

Ruby hesitated. “Well, I-”

“It’s fine,” Yang assured her. “I don’t need a big surprise. And you’ve gotta work somewhere, right?”

“Right,” Ruby agreed. She turned to the other members of Team YRBN, who were all in the room with the two sisters: Blake, sat reading on her bed, Ren sitting rather less comfortably upon his bed, looking like he was meditating or something, and Nora sitting on the floor at the foot of Ren’s bed with her headphones on. “Hey, guys.”

“HI, RUBY!” Nora screeched, making everyone else in the dorm room flinch at the volume of her voice. She winced as she realised what she’d done, laughing nervously as she took off her headphones. “Sorry about that. Forgot about the headphones. Hi, Ruby.” She looked at the fabrics on the floor. “Here to make those dresses, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Thanks for letting me take up your room.”

“It’s no problem,” Nora said dismissively. “Ren and I are going out into Vale to look at my dress for the dance, aren’t we, Ren?”

Ren did not look particularly enthusiastic about the idea as he opened his eyes. “I’m not sure that you need me for that, Nora,” he murmured.

“Because if you’re not there, how will you know if you like it?” Nora demanded.

Ren looked down at her. “So long as it makes you happy, it will make me happy.”

“Aww,” Nora cooed, leaning against the bed, with one arm resting upon it. “That is the sweetest thing, Ren. You’re still coming with me.”

Ren smiled ever so slightly. “In that case, Jaune will be joining us. He asked for my help picking out a suit.”

“Am I going to get to see you trying on suits?” Nora asked. “Sign me up!”

Ren’s smile remained slight, but got ever so slightly less so.

Blake closed her book, but kept it in her hands as she got up off her bed. “I’ll be in the library if anyone needs me. Rainbow asked me to help Penny with some of her homework.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re just going to do it?”

“Rainbow wants me to give Penny a little bit of a faunus perspective on some of the history,” Blake explained. “I don’t see why not.”

“Rainbow Dash does remember that she’s a faunus herself, right?” Yang asked rhetorically and with a bit of humor.

“Probably,” Blake answered, a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “But I get better grades.”

“Right,” Yang conceded. “Have fun with that then,” she added dryly.

To Ruby, Blake said, “Good luck with everything, Ruby.”

“Thanks, Blake,” Ruby said. “Last chance to say if you want one too?”

“Thank you, but I’m already taken care of,” Blake said. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to add to your workload.”

“If you’re sure,” Ruby replied. “What are you going to do, Yang?”

“I’m meeting Sunset in the ballroom,” Yang informed her. “Since Team Coffee isn't back from their mission yet, Professor Goodwitch asked me and Sunset to plan the dance together.” She paused. “Didn’t she tell you?”

Ruby shook her head. “This is the first I’ve heard about it. She asked Sunset?” Yang, sure, Ruby could see that, even if her sister was only a freshman; she was also gregarious and outgoing and knew what made a good party. Sunset… not so much.

“I don’t know what Professor Goodwitch was thinking either,” Yang admitted. “I just hope Sunset takes this seriously and doesn’t try to make me do everything myself.”

“It would probably turn out okay if you did,” Ruby said loyally.

“Yeah, obviously it would, but that doesn’t mean that I want to do it all,” Yang replied.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Ruby assured her. “Just because Sunset didn’t say anything doesn’t mean she won’t work hard. She gives everything her best shot.”

“Like I said, I hope so,” Yang declared. “Anyway, that’s where I’ll be while I leave you to it.” She reached out with one hand and ruffled Ruby’s hair. “Best of luck, sis. See you in a while!”

“Good luck,” Ruby said to her, as first Yang and then Blake took their leave of the dorm room. As Ren and Nora became the last to leave, Ruby said to them, “Be careful out there, after… you know.”

The two of them paused. Ren bowed his head to her. “We will be on our guard, of course.”

Ruby studied him for a moment, her sister’s taciturn teammate. “But you’re always on your guard, right?”

“We could die at the hands of the White Fang in Vale,” Ren allowed. “I could die at the hands of the grimm on a mission. I could electrocute myself with a kitchen appliance, or Nora’s curling iron could start a fire and burn down the dorm room-”

“I unplug that every night!” Nora insisted.

“We live each day surrounded by death,” Ren continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Why fear one more than the rest?”

Ruby nodded. “Vigilance, but not fear, right?”

“Precisely,” Ren agreed. “Anything else, and they have won. And now, we will leave you to your work.”

“Later, Ruby!” Nora called. “Have fun!”

“I’ll try,” Ruby replied, as the door shut behind the two of them. She put her hands on her hips and let out a heavy breath as she looked down at the pile of fabrics, some of which were gently unrolling themselves upon the floor. She did not immediately break out the scissors, needle, and thread, however. The first thing that she did was get out her scroll, prop it up on Yang’s desk so that it was standing upright with the screen facing outwards, and call Rainbow’s friend Rarity in Atlas.

Rarity took a few seconds to actually pick up, but eventually, she answered, her fair face appearing in the screen, framed by her purple curls. Her deep blue eyes blinked. “Ruby, darling!” she cried. “So good to hear from you again. I take it this is about those designs you sent over for me to look at?”

“Uh-huh,” Ruby agreed, sitting down on Yang’s bed. “Did you get a chance to take a look at them? Is this a good time?”

“It’s the best time, darling; I don’t have to work on a Sunday,” Rarity informed her. “Although, contrariwise, you might also say that Sunday is when I get all of my best work done.”

Ruby glanced at what she could see of the room behind Rarity. “Is that your workshop?”

Rarity’s laughter was light and high pitched and just a little embarrassed. “Well, technically, darling, it’s the living room, but Coco and I – Coco Pommel, that’s my roommate – agreed that we would rather have a space to work than one to entertain.” She picked up her scroll and turned in place with it, showing off a room decorated in cool blue colours with accents of purple, indigo, and violet, with mannequins posed here and there looking almost like guests at a party, while sewing machines stood ready and fabrics stood stacked against the walls.

“Nice setup,” Ruby said. “Although it seems like a pity you can’t have friends over.”

“That’s the beauty of living in Atlas, darling; you never need to have anyone over because there’s always somewhere to go out instead,” Rarity replied. “Or we impose on Pinkie Pie, for whom it’s no imposition at all.” She paused. “Anyway, yes, your designs.”

“What did you think?” Ruby asked eagerly.

“I thought it was wonderful work,” Rarity said. “You really do have a flair for fashion, Ruby; no offence to your chosen profession, but you’re wasted as a huntress.”

Ruby chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“I know, but I can lament nevertheless,” Rarity said airily. “I must say I’m a little surprised that Pyrrha’s dress isn’t a little more Mistralian in style-”

“I’m sure that Pyrrha must have to wear that style all the time,” Ruby explained. “I wanted to give her something a little bit different.”

“Well, it certainly is different,” Rarity allowed. “And quite lovely besides, it will certainly go with her hair. Yes, quite lovely. I presume the fairytale sensibility of it was intentional?”

Ruby smiled, even as she looked down and away from Rarity. “I guess,” she said. “Pyrrha… she and Jaune are pretty much like a fairytale already, so… it seemed to make sense, you know?”

Rarity’s smile was warm, and utterly without judgement. “I understand completely, Ruby, and trust me, being able to tailor your designs to your friend’s personalities is just one more thing which marks you out as a true talent.”

“I don’t-”

“Oh, you do,” Rarity insisted. “As shown when we move from Pyrrha’s dress to Sunset’s; I must confess that I don’t know either of these two very well – in Pyrrha’s case, due to lack of opportunity, and in Sunset’s, due to… lack of desire – but the switch from fairytale in Pyrrha’s case to something more sensual in Sunset’s demonstrates that you know them quite well.”

“You think it works, then?” Ruby asked. “I wasn’t sure if it would. It felt right, but… are you sure it isn’t showing too much leg?”

“For a comfortable, self-confident woman, there is no such thing as too much leg,” Rarity declared. She paused. “Allowing for the dress code and the specifics of the situation, obviously,” she added. “Obviously, in a dress like this, it would make no sense to describe Sunset as the belle of the ball, but she will turn heads, without a doubt.”

Ruby grinned. “Sunset does like being the centre of attention.”

Rarity laughed. “That is one thing I remember about her very well,” she agreed. “As for Yang’s dress, this rich purple is definitely her colour.”

“I know she’ll like that,” Ruby said. “I’ve seen her wearing stuff like it before. What about Penny’s dress?” That was the one that she was most worried about, if only because Penny seemed the most excited of any of her friends to actually receive the dress; she didn’t want to let Penny down, having gotten her hopes up so.

Rarity was silent for a moment. She put on a pair of half-moon spectacles and looked at something. She still said nothing as her hand reached towards the screen and then disappeared out of sight; Ruby thought she could hear buttons being pressed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked nervously.

“Wrong? No,” Rarity said immediately. “It’s just that I have one or two suggestions for Penny’s dress; the colour is well-chosen and should bring out her eyes beautifully, but I do have one or two suggestions.” She paused. “Did you have any… dubious assistance in this?”

“Um, Ciel wanted to see the design,” Ruby admitted. “She gave me… a couple of notes.”

“Hmm,” Rarity noted, with evident disapproval. “Yes, I thought I could tell where you had made a decision against your better judgement. I’ve just sent you back a revised design; why don’t you tell me whether my notes match your original intention?”

Ruby got off the bed and approached her scroll as it pinged with the notification of a message received. She swiped Rarity’s face to take up only half the screen, and with the other, opened up said message, which was from Rarity and contained the revisions she had just mentioned. It did match Ruby’s original intent, rolling back the revisions that Ciel had made on Penny’s behalf: the hem of the skirt that Ciel had insisted be lowered to calf-length was back up to knee-length again, and the long sleeves that Ciel had added were gone, replaced by short sleeves and gloves halfway to elbow-length that nevertheless left most of Penny’s arms bare. “How did you-?”

“I like to think that I can sense an artist’s vision,” Rarity replied. “And when it’s been compromised. I’m not quite sure who Miss Soleil thinks she is, but when it comes to creating beauty, there is nothing more important than integrity.”

“Not even pleasing the person the dress is for?”

Rarity sighed. “The chances that the person the dress is for knows what they’re talking about are vanishingly rare; trust me, I speak from experience,” she added, her voice dropping to become a slight mutter. “They might not realise it while the work is in progress, but if you stick to your vision and shut out the voices of the naysayers, then your creation will convert them with its quality. That’s why, in all my work, I always make sure to follow the Rules of Rarity.” She paused, and Ruby almost got the sense that she was listening to something, before Rarity got up from where she’d been sitting and retreated to stand in the centre of the room.

“Rarity?” Ruby asked.

Rarity ignored her, or perhaps she didn’t hear, because she chose that moment to burst into song.

The Rules of Rarity,

Guarantee quality,

This I can assure,

For each and every dress,

I vow to give finesse,

With ti-ime, love, and couture!

“Uh, Rarity,” Ruby said.

“Hmm?” Rarity stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry darling, did I start singing?”

“Uh… yeah,” Ruby admitted.

Rarity laughed nervously. “Yes, uh, that happens from… time to time. My sincerest apologies.”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said, a touch of laughter in her own voice. “Does it really just happen? You just start singing sometimes?”

“Sometimes we do it on purpose,” Rarity replied. “Other times, it… well, it just seems to come over one at times. Twilight suggested it might be because the air is thinner at high elevations.”

“I… guess?” Ruby murmured. “But you think I should make the dress my way?”

“I don’t think you should consider doing anything else,” Rarity assured her.

“Okay then,” Ruby declared. “I’ll do it.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Rarity said. “And for the same reason, I’m not even going to comment upon the design of your own dress.”

“You’re not?”

“Far be it from me,” Rarity said, “to tell a fellow fashionista how to dress.”

“I’m not-”

“Oh, but you are, darling,” Rarity insisted. “It may not be your dream, but it is in your heart nonetheless.”

Ruby couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Rarity,” she said. “This has been great.”

“Any time at all, darling, any time,” Rarity assured. “Within reason, of course.”

Ruby nodded. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Ruby,” Rarity called, as Ruby ended the call.

Okay. That… that had gone really well. She could do this; she could produce something that all her friends would love.

It felt like the least she could do for them.

And so, fortified by Rarity’s praise and her advice, Ruby gathered up her tools and fabrics and set to work.

“Jaune!” Sun called. “Hey, Jaune, can I talk to you for a second?”

Jaune turned around. He, Ren, and Nora were walking down the path that led across the courtyard to the docking pads to catch a bus into Vale. “You two go on ahead,” he told them. “I’ll catch up.”

“Don’t take too long,” Nora told him, as she and Ren walked – skipped, in Nora’s case – further off down the path.

Jaune, meanwhile, stood still, waiting for Sun who was running to approach him.

“Hey, man,” he said. “Sorry to hold you up; I just need some advice.”

“What kind of advice?” Jaune asked warily.

“What are you wearing for the dance?” Sun asked.

Jaune blinked in surprise. “I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I’m just on my way into Vale to look for something. Why?”

Sun shrugged. “It’s just something that I’ve been wondering about, you know? What I should wear, for Blake, you know. I mean, I was just going to wear this-”

“That?” Jaune repeated as he took in Sun’s combat gear, which also doubled as his casual dress. “You were going to go to the dance in that?”

“Wrong answer?” Sun guessed.

Jaune hesitated, because on the one hand… yes, it was the wrong answer, and not just because Sun wasn’t wearing a shirt, but also because he wasn’t wearing any socks either, and his jeans were torn.

On the other hand, Jaune’s jeans weren’t brand new or in perfect condition either, and there was a good reason for that, and Jaune wasn’t blind to the possibility that there was a good reason for Sun’s clothes being the way they were either. Mistral was said to be a hard kingdom for faunus, and although Jaune hadn’t seen any evidence of that, he was aware that they hadn’t really seen anything hard about Mistral, but that that said more about the aura of privilege that surrounded the Nikos family than it did about the absence of any toil or struggle in Mistral itself.

And Vacuo, from what little Jaune knew of it, was said to be a poor place, and a hard one; not least by people from Vacuo itself.

So instead of simply decrying Sun’s taste, Jaune asked, “What made you think that might not be a good idea?”

“What do you think?” Sun demanded. “Blake! The more I think about it… I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right to take her to the dance looking like this.” He paused. “Look, dude, I know that I look like a mess; you don’t have to pretend. And it’s fine. I’m from Vacuo; we all look like this because we’re too busy surviving to worry about what’s in style or whether our clothes look good as new or any stuff like that. But Blake’s not from Vacuo; she’s a princess from Menagerie, and she hangs out with the Atlesians who definitely care about all that stuff. I… I guess I’m starting to wonder if she deserves better.”

“Yes,” Jaune said. “She does.”

“Well, thanks, man.”

“Blake deserves better,” Jaune said. “Just like Pyrrha deserves better. They both deserve so much better than… than us. I mean, look at them. They’re strong, brave, kind, selfless, beautiful, and we’re… we’re us.”

Sun nodded. “Yeah, I guess we are, aren’t we?”

“But someone… someone who can be really stupid, but who occasionaly has flashes of insight once told me that when it comes to love, we don’t get what we deserve; we love… who we love. And they love us, or at least I hope that she does. And I think that Blake loves you.”

“I hope so too,” Sun said quietly. “Even if I’m not sure how.”

“Because she does,” Jaune said. “I’m starting to think that that’s all there is to it. And because that’s all there is to it, then… then go to the dance like that, if you want. Blake won’t care. So long as it’s you, she won’t care.”

Sun looked unsure. “You think so?”

I hope so, now I’ve said it. “I know so.”

A smile brightened Sun’s face. “Well, all right!” he cried, before his blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a second, if you believe that, then why are you going into Vale to get a special outfit?”

“I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“No,” Yang said bluntly. “We are not having a string quartet.”

Sunset placed her hands, palms down, flat on the tabletop. “Why not?”

Yang stood over her, hands on her hips. “Because it’s lame, that’s why!”

Sunset scoffed. “First of all, it is not lame, it is the done thing; second of all: springing for a DJ? That is so cliché.”

“Some things are clichés for a reason,” Yang declared, holding up one finger. “Having a DJ at a party is a cliché because having a DJ is fun! It’s cool! And we can get a great deal on it too; look at this flier I found in Vale.”

She laid the flier down on the table. Sunset’s right hand glowed as she levitated it up into the air and towards her face to read it. Sunset groaned. “Vinyl Scratch.”

“You know her?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “She went to Canterlot.”

Yang frowned. “Why does a DJ need to go to combat school?”

“So she can drive from gig to gig through grimm infested territory?” Sunset suggested. “I would have asked her, but she never had her headphones off. Also, I didn’t care.”

“So she’s good, right?”

“It doesn’t matter how good she is,” Sunset insisted. “She is not suitable for a formal event. And neither is a smoke machine.”

“Oh, but ice sculptures, they’re just the thing to get this party banging?”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Sunset exclaimed. “This party should not be ‘banging’; this is not a ‘banging’ sort of party, this is-”

“A party,” Yang reminded her. “At a school. For kids.”

“A gala for representatives of many different kingdoms,” Sunset said acerbically, “brought together in a celebration of unity and peace.” Sunset picked up Yang’s list of hors d’oeuvres off the table in front of her. “And what is this: chicken wings, nachos, pork belly skewers, pigs in blankets? First of all, where are the vegetarian options?”

“The nachos are vegetarian!”

“Second of all,” Sunset continued, more asperity bleeding off her voice by the moment, “what kind of hors d’oeuvres are these?”

“I don’t even know what that word means,” Yang said flatly. “This is party food! What do you think we ought to have?”

“Canapes,” Sunset said. “Crudite platters, gougers-”

“Those do not sound good,” Yang said.

“They’re not supposed to taste good,” Sunset replied. “They’re meant to look dainty.” She huffed. “I don’t know why Professor Goodwitch asked you to help me plan this gala.” She hadn’t been particularly enthused about being given the job herself – she had better things to do, like… almost anything, really – but when the best alternative was Yang, she could see why she, Sunset, had been sought out. Without her, this would all go terribly wrong.

“Oh, really?” Yang demanded, her voice acquiring a slightly dangerous edge. “And why is that?”

“Because you clearly have…” Sunset searched for a slightly less rude way of saying ‘plebeian tastes.’ She had a lot of trouble finding one. “Because your low tastes, though doubtless appealing to the masses, are quite unsuitable for a highbrow event such as this.”

Yang looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or punch Sunset’s face in. Her mouth opened and closed several times. Her eyes flashed red, then back to violet, then red, then violet, then alternating between colours several times. Her hair flared fiery, then died down again just as swiftly. “My 'low tastes'?” she repeated.

Sunset shrugged. “Don’t look at me; you’re the one who wants a DJ.”

“Where the hell do you-?” Yang halted, if only for a moment. “How the hell does a faunus become such a snob?”

“That’s racist,” Sunset said, a smirk playing across her face as she pointed at Yang.

“No, that’s experience.”

“What, just because I’m a faunus doesn’t mean I can be cultured?” Sunset said. “Why don’t you say that where Blake can hear you?”

“Blake didn’t just come within a hair of calling me a lowborn oaf,” Yang reminded Sunset.

“I have been to more galas,” Sunset declared, “than you have had hot dinners.”

“Where do you think I live?” Yang demanded. “I have hot dinners every night. I cooked a lot of them myself when I was younger.”

“Chicken wings and pork belly skewers, one assumes,” Sunset murmured dryly.

Yang rolled her eyes. “You can sneer all you want, but I made sure that Ruby ate well growing up.”

Sunset paused for a moment. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “I know that your mother died,” she said softly, “but… the way you talk – and this isn’t the first time you’ve brought it up… where was your father in all this?”

Yang was silent for a moment. “Grieving,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “When Mom left… it hit him pretty hard. He… pulled himself together eventually, but…”

“Too late for you?” Sunset guessed.

“You could say that,” Yang said lightly, and without concern. “So tell me about these galas?”

Sunset raised one eyebrow.

“I really want to know how an Atlesian faunus ends up this incredibly stuck-up.”

“I am not incredibly stuck-up,” Sunset declared. “I am regularly stuck-up. I am precisely as arrogant as my abilities warrant.”

“We’ll agree to disagree on that,” Yang muttered. “So how did it happen?”

“Well, for a start, I wasn’t born in Atlas,” Sunset told her. “I moved to Atlas to pursue my destiny and attend combat school. I was raised outside the kingdoms.”

“Okay, so how does a faunus from some mudhole in the wilderness-”

“My home was not a mudhole!” Sunset snapped. “And it was certainly not in the wilderness; my home… my home was glorious. My people… my people are isolationist, not backwards.” That seemed the best explanation that she could give for why Yang wouldn’t know about this place. “They keep themselves to themselves, but they are… in their own way, they are as advanced as Atlas and as cultured as Mistral. Where I lived… it was beautiful. Beautiful as Mistral is beautiful but more, so much more. A city of golden spires and marble balconies, a city of broad avenues lined with shrubs and bushes, a city where the light gleamed off the white walls, a place of light and music, where song was as likely to be heard in the streets as the chatter of commerce.”

“Sounds idyllic,” Yang observed. “Why would you leave all that behind for… this?”

“For destiny, as I said,” Sunset replied.

“It must have been some destiny.”

“I thought so, at the time,” Sunset said. She chuckled. “Now… I think I mostly stay for them.”

Yang smiled. “Ruby has that effect. Just like I told you she would, if I remember right.”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right about that,” Sunset conceded. “Saying ‘I told you so’ is a very bad look.”

“Saying that somebody else has low taste is a pretty bad look itself.”

“I was only being honest.”

“You were also being a colossal jerk,” Yang said. “But anyway, is that where you got your taste in parties?”

Sunset nodded. “The Grand… the Grand Gala,” she said. “The highlight of the social calendar, when the palace would be thrown open to the nobility and the gentry and to the favourites of the princess.” A wistful smile played upon her lips. “But nobody was more favourite than me. I would stand by her side as all ascended the stairs to pay their court and tribute to her, listening as the soft strains of the music floated overhead as gently as any sucking dove.”

“And you enjoyed that?” Yang asked incredulously.

Sunset glared silently at her.

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t sound much fun,” Yang said. She paused. “This is the part where you tell me it wasn’t about having fun, isn’t it?”

“Everyone always seemed to enjoy it,” Sunset replied.

“Really?” Yang asked sceptically.

“Yes,” Sunset insisted. “It was all very civilised and decorous, and if we adopt the same standards here, I think the Mistralian students will feel right at home.”

“And everyone else will be bored,” Yang insisted. “We’re not nobles or anything like that; we’re young and… and after this dance, we’re all going out on field missions that we might not come back from,” she said bluntly. “That’s the bottom line. By the week after the dance, I could be dead. Blake could be dead. Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby could be dead-”

“I won’t let that happen!” Sunset cried.

“And we deserve to have had some fun before that happens!” Yang yelled. “We deserve the chance to cut loose and live a little!”

“By acting like hoodlums?”

“Yes!” Yang shouted. “If that’s what you think, then fine, but we deserve better than to be forced to button up and have sticks shoved up are asses before we go into battle!”

Her appeal was forceful and… not without force, Sunset had to admit. This was, after all, a dangerous occupation, and every freshman student would be embarking on missions, no exceptions – not even for teams like CLEM that hadn’t signed up for missions in the ordinary course of things; after the dance, they too would be expected to do their part – which would throw them directly into harm’s way.

Maybe it was wrong of Sunset to bore them to death first.

That still didn’t mean she was willing to give up everything, however.

“How much budget do we have?” she asked Yang. “How many lien did Professor Goodwitch say we could spend?”

“Twenty thousand lien,” Yang replied. “Why?”

Sunset shrugged. “For that much, we could probably hire Vinyl Scratch and the Octavia String Quartet. And we could have my hors d’oeuvres and your… meat. And-”

“I get the picture,” Yang muttered. “And maybe we could afford to do both of what we want, but a string quartet and a DJ, what will that sound like?”

“Dubstep string music, I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “Maybe they’ll take it in turns, or maybe they’ll invent a whole new genre of music. Now wouldn’t that be fun?”

Yang considered that for a moment, before a slow grin began to spread across her face. “Now you’re starting to get it,” she said. “Okay, let’s budget this out. How much is the quartet?”

And so they worked out numbers, the cost of hires and the cost of machines and the cost of food, and as they worked, the dance took shape around them.

Looking Forward to Some Fun (Hoping All Our Friends Will Come) (Rewritten)

Looking Forward to Some Fun (Hoping All Our Friends Will Come)

“So,” Yang said, “is everyone looking forward to the dance this weekend?”

The long table was packed out that breakfast, with teams SAPR, YRBN, RSPT, SSSN, and WWSR all crammed in together, side by side or facing one another across the wooden surface. Nevertheless, in spite of the number of people present, there was no immediate response forthcoming.

Yang rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t everyone speak up at once.”

Pyrrha swallowed the bite of sausage upon which she had been chewing. “I’m looking forward to it, Yang; I’m sure that you and Sunset have done a wonderful job.”

Sunset snorted. “Of course you’re looking forward to the dance, you’re…” Sunset paused for a moment, looking up and down the table. “Are you and Jaune the only two people at this table with dates?”

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed a rosy red. “Well, um...”

Jaune put his hand on top of hers. “That’s not really our fault, is it?”

“No, and I’m not saying it is your fault, although don’t think that I don’t notice that very subtle choice to emphasise how much more fortunate you are than the rest of us just now, Jaune Arc,” Sunset said sharply. “I’m just saying, it’s not surprising that you two are looking forward to this when you two are-”

“Don’t forget about Blake,” Sun reminded her.

“Blake has a date?” Sunset asked, in a tone that suggested that she had only pretended to forget instead of actually forgetting.

“Sunset,” Blake murmured, in a warning tone.

“Okay, okay,” Sunset said apologetically. “Although I actually did forget about the two of you. I feel like we don’t see you around much.”

“That’s because you only see me when I want you to see me,” Blake declared. “And I don’t want you to see us together.”

Sunset blinked.

Blake stared at her across the table, unblinking and unflinching.

“I… have no idea if you are being serious or not,” Sunset muttered.

Blake raised one eyebrow. The faintest shadow of a smile played across her lips.

“Sometimes,” Sunset said, “I think I liked you better when you were dour and miserable all the time.”

“I’ve got a date too,” Nora pointed out.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really?” she murmured. “Who is it?” she asked, not because she didn’t know – or couldn’t guess – the answer but because she thought it might be more fun to ask regardless.

“Ren,” Nora declared, as though that should have been obvious. Ren nodded silently.

Sunset leaned back a little, folding her arms. “I thought you two weren’t-”

“We’re not!” Nora squawked swiftly, before Sunset could finish. “We’re going to the dance together as friends.”

Once again, Ren nodded silently.

It was all Sunset could do not to roll her eyes. For Celestia’s sake, just admit it already. Everybody knows, and you’ll regret all of this playing coy when he sets his eyes on a girl who’s willing to give him what he needs with no messing around.

Yep, you’ll regret it for a long time to come.

Not that she cared about Nora, in the ordinary course of events, but if she really loved him, then she ought to show him somehow. Love… love was not the kind of thing that ought to be kept hidden away, locked in darkness. It deserved to bloom in sunlight, as all flowers did.

“So let me get this straight,” Weiss said. “You two-” – she pointed at Sunset and at Yang in quick succession – “-organised the dance?”

“Yep,” Yang replied. “Since Team Coffee were away longer than expected, we were asked to step in.”

“I hope they’re okay,” Blake murmured.

“Everyone knows they’re the best team in the sophomore year,” Jaune said. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“If that’s so, then why aren’t they back yet?” Blake asked.

“Some missions turn out to be tougher than the intel made out,” Rainbow answered. “It doesn’t mean they won’t come out on top, especially if they really are Beacon’s best.”

“Are they, though?” Cardin asked.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Is this somewhere you really want to go, Cardin?”

Cardin held up his hands. “I’m just saying, she couldn’t even-”

“Just drop it, okay?” Sunset advised him.

“There’s a difference between fighting grimm and standing up for yourself against a bully,” Blake said, adding a touch of extra venom to the last word. She glanced down the table at Rainbow Dash. “A lot of faunus think they have to mind their manners, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, the word expelled quickly and sharply out of her mouth. “It’s… it’s the way to get by and not get labelled a troublemaker.”

“Well, in any case,” Weiss said, with the air of someone who is deliberately trying to change the subject, “I have a hard time imagining what something that you two organised together is going to look like.”

“It will either look like a masterfully blended fusion of traditional and modern, highbrow and… populist,” Sunset said. “Or it will be an incoherent mess; you’ll have to see for yourself which one it turns out to be.”

“Either one should be a lot of fun,” Yang assured them all. “Rainbow Dash, Sunset tells me the DJ went to Canterlot.”

“You got Vinyl Scratch?!” Rainbow demanded. “I didn’t even know she was here in Vale!”

“Well, she is, and she’s going to be here this weekend,” Yang announced. “One question, why did she want to know if she could get her car into the ballroom?”

“Because the car transforms into a sound system,” Twilight explained.

Yang stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

Twilight shook her head.

“Oh my god, you’re not even kidding,” Yang said. “Is that like mechashift technology?”

Twilight nodded. “About ten years ago, Atlesian scientists began to look at the idea of expanding the principles used in many weapons to other areas of life, with vehicles and even household appliances that transformed into completely different objects. The project never really got off the ground – in the end, nobody could really see the point of it – but it’s perfectly possible, and the concept is still practiced occasionally.”

“It may sound weird,” Rainbow conceded, “but trust us, Vinyl’s one of the best at what she does.”

“Popular music,” Ciel sighed.

“There’s also a string quartet; you’re welcome,” Sunset said.

“Ah,” Ciel said. “Much better.”

“Something for everyone,” Yang proclaimed brightly.

“You didn’t want a string quartet,” Sunset reminded her.

Yang shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t take credit for the fact that we’ve got one.”

Sunset sighed.

“I think it’ll be great,” Flash said. “I can hardly wait.”

“I’ll bet you can’t,” Sunset chuntered under her breath, unable to resist because look at him, look at Weiss, look at the pair of them… sitting next to one another!

She recognised the way Flash looked at Weiss. He looked at Weiss the way that he’d once looked at Twilight, and what were the odds that Weiss would react the same way that Twilight had? Why wouldn’t she respond when Flash was so handsome and strong and kind and…?

Sunset felt her hand clench into a fist and had to consciously unclench it again and hope that no one noticed.

“Did you say something?” Weiss asked.

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “I didn’t say anything at all.”

“Personally, I’m excited to see what you girls look like all dressed up,” Neptune announced, flashing his teeth in a suspiciously sparkly grin.

Jaune looked at him suspiciously.

“Well, you won’t be seeing me,” Sunset announced, her decision catalysed by very recent events. “Because I’m not going.”

“'Not going'?” Yang repeated. “What do you mean you’re not going? It’s our party!”

“It’s not our party; it’s just a party that we organised,” Sunset replied. “It’s not like it’s my birthday or anything. Besides, party planners don’t usually attend the parties that they plan.”

Rainbow coughed. “Well, actually-”

“Pinkie Pie doesn’t count,” Sunset declared, cutting her off before she could make the inevitable objection.

“Why doesn’t Pinkie count?” Rainbow demanded.

“Because she’s not a real party planner!”

Rainbow scoffed. “In what world is Pinkie not a real party planner?”

“In this world where she doesn’t get paid for it,” Sunset said.

“Did you get paid to plan the Beacon dance?” Penny asked innocently.

“N- that is not the point!” Sunset snapped.

Penny cocked her head to one side. “Then what is the point?”

“The point is that I’m not going!” Sunset yelled, with more force than she had intended.

“But why not?” Ruby asked plaintively. “You have to go.”

“No,” Sunset said. “I don’t, actually.”

“It doesn’t say much for the quality of your party if even you don’t want to go to it,” Neptune observed.

“There is nothing wrong with our dance preparations,” Sunset insisted.

“Then why don’t you want to go?” inquired Blake.

“Because I… have better things to do than to be harangued about this, if you’ll excuse me,” Sunset said, picking up her tray and getting to her feet. “I will leave you to your anticipation in peace.” She started to walk away, her boots tapping up the cafeteria floor.

“But I made you a dress!” Ruby cried.

Sunset halted, wincing uneasily at the upset in Ruby’s voice. She didn’t want to offend Ruby, not in any way and certainly not by this boorish casting aside of her generosity, but… but she couldn’t watch them together. She couldn’t watch him with someone else.

And she knew that if she were there, then she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off him.

“Then I’m sorry I wasted your time,” Sunset murmured, her tail curling upwards in embarrassment as she resumed her exit.

Ruby slumped down on the table, resting her chin upon one arm. “She really doesn’t want to go?”

“It’ll be alright, Ruby,” Penny said. “I’m sure that Sunset can wear your dress some other time.”

Ruby groaned. “That’s not really the point. I don’t understand! What’s gotten into her all of a sudden?”

Jaune thought that he had some idea, and it was all that he could do not to glower at Flash about it, but he didn’t want to say anything in front of so many people – he had an inkling that Sunset wouldn’t appreciate it if he did. “Sunset… is complicated,” he said. “You know that.”

“There’s still time for her to come around,” Pyrrha said.

“I guess,” Ruby murmured. “She can be pretty stubborn, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Yang said. “She will come around.” She got up. “I guarantee it.”

Ruby looked up at her elder sister nervously. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Yang replied. “I’m just going to give her a sympathetic ear.”

“Ear?” Blake repeated. “Or earful?”

Yang sniggered. “Whichever she needs more.”

Sunset blinked rapidly as she walked towards the dorm. That… might have been a mistake. Not deciding not to go to the dance, that had absolutely, one hundred percent, been the correct decision; no, she had no reservations about that… except for the fact that Ruby had seemed very disappointed about it, but even so…

No, what had been a mistake – probably – was storming off from breakfast like that. It almost guaranteed that people were going to keep on at her about it all day.

Plus… she was hungry.

Sunset blinked some more, wiping at her eyes with one hand. She wasn’t crying. She had not been reduced to watery eyes by the mere thought of Flash with someone else. She was not that pathetic.

Maybe she should go and find Cinder, the one person who probably wouldn’t tell her that she ought to go to the dance for spurious reasons.

“Sunset!”

Sunset sighed. Speaking of people telling me that I ought to go to the dance. She turned around to see Yang walking rapidly towards her, staying on just the right side of running.

Sunset sighed. “Yang-”

“You left Ruby feeling pretty down in the dumps back there,” Yang pointed out.

Sunset bit her lip. “That’s a bit of a below the belt opening, don’t you think?”

“Not if it’s true,” Yang said.

“Even if it is true, that doesn’t make it my fault,” Sunset said sharply. “Though… I’m sorry if she is upset; that wasn’t my intent. I don’t see why it’s a big deal to her, anyway. If it’s about the dress, then-”

“It’s not about the dress, although it is kind of a dick move to spring this on her after she finished it,” Yang pointed out.

“Then what is it about?”

Yang rolled her eyes. “It’s about the fact that you’re her friend and you being unhappy makes her unhappy!”

“Is she an empath?”

Yang snorted. “I’ve sometimes wondered that myself,” she admitted. She paused. “So why don’t you want to go to the dance?”

“In the first place, I don’t have to explain myself to you, and I will not,” Sunset declared. “And in the second place, as much as you have very common tastes, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

“You do realise they’re not even dating, right?”

“He wants her,” Sunset insisted. “I know what it looks like when my boyfriend-”

“You do realise that he’s not your boyfriend anymore too, right?”

“I know what it looks like when he’s into someone else,” Sunset stated, rolling over Yang’s objection. “I’ve seen that look before; I know what it means. He’s into her, and… and why wouldn’t he be?” She walked away from Yang, just a few steps, and sat down at the edge of the fountain. “She’s rich and beautiful and popular-”

“Yeah, because you’re such a lonely outcast,” Yang muttered.

Sunset looked up at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re probably more popular than Weiss is, and I can’t believe that you still don’t get that,” Yang snapped. “Seriously, you’re almost as bad as Blake; no, strike that, you’re worse than Blake.”

“How am I worse than Blake?”

“Because Blake has good reasons for thinking like she does; what’s your excuse?” Yang demanded.

Sunset didn’t dignify that with a reply. She simply said, “I don’t want to see him with her. I will not suffer it.”

“So instead you’re going to… what?” Yang asked, as she sat down beside her. “Stay in the dorm room all night? Read in the library? Brood about the fact that you’re alone and imagine the two of them together instead of seeing it?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Probably that last one,” she admitted.

“Have you ever considered that maybe Weiss doesn’t want to date him?” Yang suggested.

“She’d be a fool not to,” Sunset muttered.

Yang whistled. “You had it bad, didn’t you? Don’t you?”

Sunset bowed her head, her ears drooping into her hair.

She felt a hand, Yang’s hand, upon her shoulder. “Listen… I don’t know what you and he were like. I didn’t know you back then… I’m not going to pretend I really know you now, and I don’t know him at all. Maybe he does like Weiss, maybe she even likes him. But what I do know is that there’s nothing you can do about any of that. You can’t stop him from moving on; you can’t stop him from being happy. If he wants to date Weiss, if he wants to take her to the dance, then there’s nothing you can do about that. All you can do… the only person you can choose for is yourself. You can’t stop Flash being happy, but you can stop yourself being happy. Or you can choose to be happy.”

Sunset snorted. “As if it were that easy.”

“No, it isn’t always easy, but it's possible,” Yang declared. “I do it.”

Sunset looked at her.

“Yeah, that’s right; you think this smile gets here naturally all the time?” Yang asked. “I work at this. I choose this. I choose this instead of…”

Sunset waited for a moment. “Instead of what?”

Yang grinned. “No offence, Baconhair, but we don’t know each other well enough for that.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Sunset admitted. “If we were, you wouldn’t still be calling me that atrocious nickname.”

Yang laughed. “The point is that it’s a choice. You can let what other people did to you, the way they’ve hurt you, you can let all of that push you down into the dirt, you can let it take you over, you can… you can let them win. Or you can move forward and find something better.

“You are so lucky, Sunset Shimmer,” Yang went on. “I’m Blake’s team leader now, but you and she share a bond I’m not sure that I’ll ever have, especially not if she goes to Atlas at the end of this year. You’ve got four friends who would die for you – and yes, that includes Blake. I see the way that Ruby looks at you, and I… the point is that you have so much to be grateful for, to be happy about. You don’t need this guy! Come to the dance, show him that he can’t keep hurting you.”

Sunset smiled wryly. “And make Ruby happy?”

“Well, yeah,” Yang admitted. “That too.”

Sunset looked away. Yang… Yang was right. She couldn’t stop Flash from getting together with Weiss, any more than she could have stopped him getting together with Twilight. She couldn’t control him any more; she couldn’t dictate how he lived or what happened to him. The only person Sunset was hurting was herself. As painful as that, in itself, was to admit.

Maybe Flash would notice that she was there, maybe it would prove something to him, or maybe he wouldn’t give a damn. But it might matter to Sunset herself, and that… maybe that would… it might help.

And… and it would make Ruby happy. And wasn’t that the important thing, in the end? Ruby had looked forward to this, she had slaved over this making dresses for Sunset and everyone else, what right did Sunset have to rain on that by being miserable? What right did she have to be a black cloud over Jaune and Pyrrha’s evening?

What right did she have to spread her unhappiness around?

None at all.

It would make Ruby happy; then so be it.

“Okay,” she said. “I will go to the dance.”

Yang nodded approvingly. “You won’t regret it,” she said. “I promise.”

Lyra leaned forwards across the table, glancing sideways to where the various members of the cool kids’ table got up from where they’d been sitting.

The presence of Rainbow Dash and Twilight meant that Lyra couldn’t help but be reminded of Canterlot. There had been a cool kids’ table there, as well: centred on Rainbow and Twilight and their friends.

She could picture it clearly in her mind’s eye: Rarity in her improbable outfits, Applejack with her countryisms, the way that Pinkie would so often have new cakes she was eager for everyone to try.

The difference between then and now… well, there were two differences between then and now, to Lyra’s mind: the first of which was the cool kids of Beacon were, on balance, a lot less fun than they had been in Canterlot. The other was that Sunset Shimmer would never have gotten within a mile of the cool table at Canterlot, but now, she was the queen of it, even more than Rainbow or Twilight. Those two had ruled Canterlot, without seeming to realise it half the time, but now, they orbited about Blake, who was joint consort with Sunset, the twin suns around whom all others revolved.

Blake, Lyra was almost certain, didn’t realise that fact; Lyra would be astonished if Sunset hadn’t noticed yet.

Of course, back in those days of Canterlot, they – her and Bon Bon – had gotten close to the cool table upon occasion. No chance of that now. Not after the way they’d treated Blake.

And, to be honest, after the way that Sunset had treated her too; even if Blake’s friends were willing to bury the hatchet, Lyra wondered if Bon Bon would be willing to do the same.

All of this might make it sound as though Lyra was watching them all enviously. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She was watching them, solely to see what would be the best chance for catching Ciel Soleil alone.

“Now,” she urged. “Go now!”

“She’s not alone now,” Dove protested.

“She’s as alone as she’s going to get,” Lyra insisted, looking around at her teammate and her friend, sat across the table from her. “Sunset’s gone, Yang’s gone, Twilight’s going to talk to Neptune, and Rainbow is following her; the rest of Team Iron and Team Sun are pulling away. Seriously, now is your best chance.”

Dove sighed. “This isn’t a very good idea.”

“It was your idea!” Bon Bon cried from where she sat next to him.

“No, it wasn’t!” Dove hissed.

“You said that you’d go out with her!” Lyra reminded him.

“You wouldn’t let up until I I picked someone that I might like to go to the dance with,” Dove reminded them.

“If we had let up, you wouldn’t have chosen,” Lyra pointed out.

“Because I didn’t want to choose!” Dove whispered sharply. He looked down at the table. “I just… will you please just leave it be? You don’t… it’s not like it’s compulsory to have a date for the dance.”

Lyra sighed. “It’s not about the dance, Dove. It’s about you.”

Bon Bon placed one hand on his shoulder. “I know – we both know – that Amber meant a lot to you, but she’s not here, and nobody knows where she is.”

“Not the professors, not any of the students,” Lyra added. “We put up those fliers in Vale, and nobody responded. Amber… she’s gone, Dove.” She would never say so, because it would seem cruel to compare Dove’s plight to a song, but it put Lyra in mind of the tale of the Mid-Winter Bride, a popular traditional song for the holidays, about the bride who disappeared on her wedding night and was never seen again.

‘Wherever he went, the children cried,

“The old man weeps for his fairy bride!”’

Lyra didn’t want that for Dove, and after talking it over with Bon Bon, her friend didn’t want that for Dove either. He was… he was one of the good ones, better than either of them really deserved, and he certainly deserved better than to grow old waiting for some girl who would never show; or worse, become so stricken with grief that he would throw himself headfirst into the battle and die, as the heartbroken groom did in some versions of the tale – Lyra had done some research into the truth behind the legend, and she was convinced to her own satisfaction that the true bride had been a Mistralian lady of high rank and that her husband had indeed gone to his death in battle not long after.

She didn’t want that for Dove. They didn’t want that for Dove. He deserved better than that.

Hence the dance, which had seemed the perfect time to ease Dove into the idea of seeing other people and moving on.

She had to admit, she wasn’t sure why he had, under duress, chosen Ciel Soleil; she seemed rather stiff and awkward to Lyra, but then, she had to admit that Dove could be pretty stiff and awkward himself sometimes. It was part of his charm.

“You can’t wait forever,” Bon Bon said.

“It’s only been a few months.”

“She’s gone, Dove,” Lyra insisted. “And if she cared about you at all, then she wouldn’t want you to waste your time pining away for her. And it’s not like we’re proposing that you, well, propose to Ciel. Just ask her to the dance. One night of fun. That’s all it is.” Although, hopefully, he would get a taste for it which would lead to more.

“And if you’re going to do it, do it quickly,” Bon Bon said.

Dove glanced at Ciel as she and her cohorts left the room. “She is… if I hadn’t… she is-”

“Hot?” Sky suggested.

Lyra and Bon Bon both gave him what Lyra’s grandmother would have called an old-fashioned look, while Dove said, “Don’t be vulgar, please. She is… a very gentle person. But she must have a partner for the dance already.”

“Nope,” Lyra said. “I asked around.” Thankfully, for all that she thought Lyra was odd and Bon Bon was a racist, Yang was sufficiently fond of Dove to tell Lyra what she needed to know about the state of play amongst the in-crowd. It was amazing how few of them had dates.

Bon Bon leaned forwards. “It would be such a shame for someone like that to have to go to the dance alone, don’t you think?”

Dove’s back straightened. It was almost sad how easily he could be manipulated by so simple a play upon his chivalry, but it was in his own best interests, and it wasn’t as if Bon Bon would ever use that to get to him to do anything damaging.

“Yes,” he declared. “Yes, it would.” He took a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “I will… I will ask her. Excuse me, ladies, Sky.”

He got up from the table and began to march with certain tread and resolute purpose across the dining hall in Ciel’s footsteps.

Lyra and Bon Bon high-fived across the table as they watched him go.

“I don’t see you two offering to help me get a date,” Sky grumbled.

“You don’t need the help,” Lyra told him.

“Obviously, I do, since I haven’t got a date,” Sky replied.

“Okay, maybe you need help, but you don’t need it,” Lyra replied. “Dove… it’s important that he starts moving on.”

“Important for who?” Sky asked.

“Important for Dove!” Lyra answered.

“My love life is important to me!” Sky protested.

“Hush, you,” Bon Bon snapped. “You know what we mean. It isn’t healthy for him to keep brooding on Amber. He needs to keep moving forward.”

Lyra nodded. “There’s one thing I don’t get, though,” she said.

“What?” Bon Bon asked.

“How Amber could just break his heart like that,” Lyra murmured. “I mean, he’s such a great guy. How could she take his heart and step on it that way?”

Bon Bon was quiet, silent even, at least for a while. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Sometimes… life… stuff happens, and it isn’t always good, and it isn’t always stuff we can control. Sometimes, things happen, and our lives change in ways we never could have imagined.”

Rainbow looked down at her scroll as she leaned against the wall, her left foot raised to tap lightly upon the stonework behind her.

“So, is it really unusual for the girl to ask the guy to the dance?” she asked.

“It’s certainly not unheard of, in these progressive and enlightened times,” Rarity replied from out of the scroll, “but it certainly isn’t traditional. But then, Twilight has never been an entirely traditional girl, has she?”

“She isn’t you, if that’s what you mean,” Rainbow replied. Sometimes, she thought that Twi and Rarity might have been switched at birth, what with how Canterlot-born Rarity acted like some high class Atlas girl and Twilight – an actual high class Atlas girl – acted like a normal person who happened to be very smart.

“Traditional ladies didn’t work, darling,” Rarity informed her dryly. “They had rich husbands.”

Rainbow grinned. “Thought about that yourself?”

Rarity smiled. “I am determined that nothing but the very deepest love shall induce me into matrimony, and by the time that such arrives, I intend to have money enough for both of us. Or I shall end an old maid and teach Twilight’s children to embroider bows and flowers onto collars and bodices and enunciate their words with perfect diction.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Speaking of work, I’m not keeping you, am I?”

“I should tell you if you were, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity informed her. “No, I’m on break at the moment.” She paused. “So, what’s he like?”

“Who?”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Neptune Vasilias! Twilight’s beau! Darling, you must give me details!”

Rainbow hesitated, struggling to come up with words to sum up Neptune Vasilias. “He’s… he looks surprisingly like Flash.”

“Really?” Rarity replied, one eyebrow arching. “Perhaps Twilight had more interest in him than she admitted at the time.”

Rainbow frowned. “Then why didn’t she just go for it?”

“Perhaps she didn’t want to upset Sunset?” Rarity suggested. “Perhaps she felt that Flash’s interest was not coming from a true or healthy place, what with his recent breakup and all. Or perhaps it’s simply a coincidence. Is he a good man?”

“Flash or Neptune?”

“I’m beginning to suspect that you’re being deliberately obtuse, darling.”

“He’s… okay, I guess.” Rainbow murmured. “He thinks he’s cooler than he is, which isn’t hard, because he’s not at all cool, even if he can do that flashy ping thing with his teeth.”

“Well, not everyone can be as awesome as you, darling.”

“I know that, but he’s not even close,” Rainbow replied.

“Is he perhaps self-aware?”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, darling, nothing at all,” Rarity said airily.

“I guess he’s a nice guy, and I don’t think he’ll hurt her or anything,” Rainbow admitted. “I just… I don’t see what she sees. I don’t see that there’s anything there.”

“Hmm,” Rarity murmured. “Obviously, I’m not there to judge for myself, but… you don’t think it will last, then?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “Should it?”

“Probably not, at our age,” Rarity admitted. “Although, didn’t you tell me that your new friends at Beacon seem rather serious?”

Rainbow nodded. “Jaune and Pyrrha,” she said. “They-” Twilight walked past, alone, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed, her hands clasped together in front of her. Her steps were slow, and the toes of her shoes scuffed the ground as she walked, as if her feet were a little too heavy for her to pick up properly.

“Rainbow Dash?” Rarity called. “Is something wrong?”

“Maybe,” Rainbow said. “I’m going to have to call you back, ok?”

“Of course, darling,” Rarity agreed. “Speak to you soon!”

“Later,” Rainbow said, as she hung up and tucked her scroll away, walking towards Twilight as she did so. With Twilight moving the way she was, it didn’t take Rainbow long at all to catch up with her. “Twi?” she asked anxiously. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Twilight murmured disconsolately.

“Yeah, right,” Rainbow replied. “Come on, Twi, what’s up all of a sudden?”

Twilight mumbled something inaudible.

Rainbow leaned closer to her. “What?”

“He said no,” Twilight repeated, loud enough for Rainbow to hear this time.

“WHAT?” Rainbow yelled, loud enough to turn several heads. She winced and started whispering. “What do you mean 'he said no'?”

Twilight looked at her. “It’s just what it sounds like. Neptune… he didn’t want to go to the dance with me.”

“Seriously?” Rainbow said. She didn’t ask why, or if Neptune had given any reason, because none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was a jerk and that Twilight was upset. She reached out, wrapping one arm around Twilight’s shoulders and pulling her into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Twi.” She paused. “You want me to kick his ass?”

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight replied reproachfully. “It’s not his fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” Rainbow declared. She bent her head and kissed Twilight on top of her head. “Any guy who cannot see how great you are-”

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Twilight interrupted.

Rainbow snorted. “This is why you’re so special, Twi; the guy broke your heart, and now, you’re defending him.”

“He did not break my heart,” Twilight insisted. “It wasn’t like we were serious or anything.” She paused. “In fact… this is probably a good thing.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m serious,” Twilight insisted. “With everybody at the dance and the CCT closed, I bet if I talk to the General, I can get permission to work there while it’s empty. Using the processing power of the tower’s mainframe, I might finally be able to trace whoever released that video of Blake.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Rainbow said. The truth was that she had almost forgotten about that, but it would be useful information to have, especially since their other leads into the White Fang had all run into dead ends. Plus, if Twilight wanted to bury herself in work after the embarrassment of getting turned down, then who was Rainbow to argue with that? It would save her bumping into Neptune. “Yeah, I’m sure the General would be fine with that, if you’re okay with missing the dance?”

“Missing what?” Twilight asked. “Standing around awkwardly on the edge of the room?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rainbow murmured. “I kind of have to show my face on account of being the team leader and all, but how about I slip away early and come join you in the tower? With no one looking, we can do that dorky dance of yours.”

Twilight looked up at her. “Really? You hate that.”

“I pretend to, where people can see me,” Rainbow corrected her. “It’s… actually kind of fun.”

Twilight giggled. “Okay then, I’ll talk to the General; with luck, we can have a little fun and get some good news for Blake.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “Listen, Twilight, I’m still-”

“It’s fine,” Twilight insisted. “There are more important things. Honestly? If I can finally trace that message and find who wanted Blake out of the way, then Neptune turning me down might just turn out to be a blessing in disguise.”

"You will note," Sunset said, as she and Cinder sat in the front row of the upper gallery of the amphitheatre, watching Pyrrha spar against Mercury Black. A smirk played across her face, and the leather of her jacket sleeves squeaked a little as she folded her arms. "That there are any number of snide comments that I could be making about your teammate right now, but that I am not making any of them because I am a classy lady who respects the team leader code."

Cinder matched Sunset's smirk with one of her own. Her words were preceded out of her throat by a deep, rich chuckle. "Is that so? You think there's some fault to be found with Mercury's performance?"

"You don't?" Sunset asked, mildly incredulous. "Pyrrha's kicking his ass."

"True," Cinder allowed. "But he is fighting the Invincible Girl, so I can't hold that against him."

Sunset shrugged; Cinder had just let her know that she, Sunset, wouldn't be allowed to hold it against him either any more than Sunset permitted any derogatory remarks about Jaune. And it wasn't as though there wasn't a point there: Pyrrha had a habit of making her opponents look like chumps by comparison. The fact that Mercury struggled to land so much as a hit on her didn't make him any different from any of her other opponents.

If she'd been feeling generous, she might even have been willing to concede that he was doing better than some.

"So," Cinder murmured, "are you looking forward to the dance this weekend?"

"I..." Sunset hesitated. She decided not to admit that she had very nearly not gone over fears she would have to watch her ex being happy with someone else. "It'll be alright, I suppose."

"Hmm, it's good that you're not getting your hopes up too high," Cinder said. "Nights like these... they're never as good as you think that they're going to be. As the moment creeps closer, your expectations build up and up, climbing higher than the clouds, higher than the tallest tower in Mistral; you imagine all the wonders that are waiting for you, all the delights that you'll sample, all of the attention you'll receive... all the happiness that you'll experience. You convince yourself that all your dreams are about to come true, and you'll be... and then the moment comes, and your fantasies make contact with reality: mundane, banal... and invariably disappointing. Don't get your hopes up, Sunset; it's the only way to avoid crashing down into despair."

Sunset stared at the other team leader in silence for a moment. "We're not still talking about the school dance, are we?"

"We're talking about absolutely everything," Cinder said. "Nothing you can ever do, nowhere you can ever go, is ever quite as wonderful as you dreamed it would be; it might be pleasant, you might even like it, but it will never wholly match the thing you built in your heart while you waited for it, planned for it, worked for it. And besides, it's the moment when all your hopes and dreams have been raised to their highest...that they are most vulnerable to being shattered, and your heart with them."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "So...you're not looking forward to the dance, I take it?"

"Did I say that?" Cinder asked.

"...Pretty much, yeah."

"I’m sure you’ve done your best,” Cinder allowed. “You and, um… Bang?”

“Yang.”

“If you say so,” Cinder murmured. “Yes, as I was saying, I’m sure that you’ve produced something… well, you know I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have some hope that by the end of the night, we’ll have had some real fun.”

“What happened to not getting your hopes up?”

“It seems I’m an incurable optimist,” Cinder confessed. “One who can’t escape the feeling that, somehow, things are about to start going my way.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter has been almost completely rewritten, because so much of what was in it originally (the conflict between Pyrrha and her mother, for instance) has been covered off earlier. Only the ending conversation between Cinder and Sunset remains consistent, with only minor edits.

Instead we continue to ramp up towards next chapter's dance, and put the pieces in place for what is to come.

Shake Your Tail (Cause We're Here to Have a Party Tonight) (Rewritten)

Shake Your Tail ('Cause We’re Gonna Have a Party Tonight)

The Beacon freshmen had got together and arranged on a one-night only change in the room dispositions for the dance: the girls would get changed in the rooms of teams SAPR and WSTW, while the boys would change in the rooms of YRBN and BLBL.

Which meant that Jaune was heading towards the YRBN dorm room to join Ren and Flash in getting ready for the dance when Sunset accosted him.

“Jaune,” she called, peeling herself off the wall as she saw him coming. Her hands were clasped together behind her; she could feel the light plastic covering the flower underneath her fingertips, soft and cold and a little bit sticky by now. She kept it out of Jaune’s sight as she walked towards him.

“Sunset,” he said, taking in the fact that she was still wearing her school uniform. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready with everyone else? Or did you change your mind again about going to the dance?”

“No, I didn’t change my mind again!” Sunset snapped. “I just… I got you something.” She held out the white carnation that she had hitherto been concealing behind her back. “A shop in the market was selling them ready for the dance; I wasn’t sure if you’d have one.”

“No, I don’t,” Jaune said. “What is it?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “It’s a carnation for you to wear in your buttonhole,” she said. “The top buttonhole, before you make yourself look like an idiot, on the lapel of your jacket. Then, at the end of the night, you give it to Pyrrha.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s a tradition,” Sunset said. The tradition she was most familiar with was the one that said you wore a white carnation in your mane on the first day of exams and a pink one thereafter until the final exam, for which you wore red, but she was almost certain that there was a tradition about wearing them to formal dances and dinners like this as well. And if there wasn’t, well… Pyrrha wasn’t the kind of girl who would refuse a flower if Jaune offered it to her; she’d be mortified at the idea of embarrassing him in public, if nothing else. “It’s one of those things to… okay, I don’t actually know why, but I don’t think it matters. It’s a tradition, and I think it’s cute, and I think she’ll like it. This… she deserves to have the best night ever.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’ll give it a try,” Jaune said, a trifle nervously, as he took the carnation in its plastic sheet from Sunset’s fingers. “But what about your night?”

Sunset smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about me, I…it’ll be okay.”

“Will it?” Jaune asked.

“It’d better,” Sunset said, injecting some levity into her voice, or trying to. “I planned this, after all. What would it say about me if even I couldn’t enjoy it?”

Jaune frowned. “Sunset, come on.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Come where?”

“I’m being serious!” Jaune insisted. “Are you going to be okay? It’s great that you’re going to the dance to make Ruby happy-”

“Who says that’s why I’m going?”

“I’m not an idiot, Sunset,” Jaune told her.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, you’re not an idiot. But you are aiming at the wrong targets. I don’t matter-”

“Sure you do, you’re-”

“Not tonight I don’t,” Sunset insisted. “Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about what kind of night I’m going to have or whether or how I’m feeling, none of it! All that matters to you tonight is Pyrrha. Not me, not Ruby, only Pyrrha. She is the only star in the night sky tonight, understand?”

Jaune hesitated for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You’d better,” Sunset said, “because she’s shining just for you.” She smiled. “You’re a lucky guy.”

“I’m aware,” Jaune told her. “Trust me, I’m well aware.”

Sunset smiled. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah, I believe you are. Have a nice night, Jaune Arc. Have the best night ever.”

“Thanks, you… you have a good night yourself.”

“Sure,” Sunset said, without a huge amount of conviction, before she turned away and began to walk back in the direction of the SAPR dorm room.

Jaune had a frown creasing his forehead as he knocked on the door to the YRBN room.

Ren answered the door, still wearing his green casual and combat outfit. “Jaune.”

“Hey, Ren.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jaune said. To tell the truth, the look on Sunset’s face had stuck with him, the way that she’d looked as though there was little chance of her having a nice night, never mind the best night ever.

It’s not like I need to be a genius to work out why she didn’t want to go to the dance in the first place.

Maybe it’s not my place to do anything, but things can’t go on like this. Something has to change, for Sunset’s sake.

And as for the idea that I should only be thinking about Pyrrha right now… I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to trust all of Sunset’s advice when it comes to romance.

No. No, he had to do something. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but it was the time when he had finally realised that things could not go on like this. Something had to change.

Someone had to make that change, since Sunset clearly wasn’t going to.

Ren made way, and Jaune walked into the room. He could hear water running in the bathroom next door.

Cardin was not there, which was all to the good as far as Jaune was concerned; he might have changed, but Jaune wasn’t sure that he was ready to get undressed in the same room as Cardin Winchester.

He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to say what needed saying with Cardin Winchester in the room, either.

“Flash is just taking a shower, but he should be out soon,” Ren said. “You can go in next, if you like.”

“Are you sure? Because I got here last, and this is your room…”

“It’s fine,” Ren said. “I can dress very quickly. I don’t need a lot of time to get ready.”

“Oh. Okay, thanks.”

Ren’s purple eyes glanced towards the flower in Jaune’s hand. “What’s that?”

“A flower,” Jaune said, although he realised a moment later that that was obvious. “Sunset gave it to me to wear.”

“Ah. I see,” Ren said.

“Apparently I’m supposed to give it to Pyrrha at the end of the night,” Jaune went on. “She said it’s a tradition. Is it Mistralian?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Ren replied. “It might be Atlesian.”

“Or it’s Valish, and I’ve just never heard of it,” Jaune admitted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ren offered a very slight shrug of the shoulders. “Nevertheless, it seems charming enough. Perhaps I should have gotten one of those for Nora.”

“I don’t think she’ll mind that you didn’t,” Jaune said.

“No,” Ren agreed. “No, she won’t.”

Ren fell silent, and Jaune was left wondering if he was supposed to say something else. Unfortunately, he had no real idea what to say. He had eaten opposite Ren often enough, but he wasn’t exactly the most garrulous member of Team YRBN, and he didn’t seem to mind that fact at all; he gave far less of himself away than either Yang or Nora. As a side effect, Jaune had no idea what to say.

The sound of running water ceased in the bathroom, and after a minute or two passed in silence that might not have been exactly comfortable but wasn’t really hostile either, the door opened, and Flash Sentry emerged, his lower half concealed behind a yellow towel.

“Oh, hey,” he said, noticing Jaune as he rubbed deodorant under his armpit. “You got here, Jaune.” He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the first shower while we were waiting for you.”

“No,” Jaune replied. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

Flash frowned. “Is everything okay, Jaune?”

Jaune paused, wondering if it was the right thing that he was about to do; but after what he had seen of Sunset: her initial decision not to go to the dance because of Flash, the way that she’d been worried Jaune would mistreat Pyrrha, the terrible advice that she’d given Sun, the way that she would look or sound so sad whenever love entered the picture…

He couldn’t just ignore it. He’d been putting it off for far too long.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Jaune said, “what did you do to Sunset?”

Flash’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Sunset’s hurting,” Jaune said. “And I think that you had something to do with it, and I want to know why.”

“Uh, Jaune? I think I’ll take you up on that offer to use the shower next,” Ren said, and without further ado, he had disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

Flash sighed, and rubbed his temple. “Look, Jaune, do we have to do this right now?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, I think we do.” He paused. “When Pyrrha and I first started going out, Sunset gave me a talk. She… she didn’t trust me around Pyrrha because of what you did to her. If you could hear the way that she talks about guys, the advice that she gave to me and Sun about how to treat our girlfriends… you were there when she walked off and almost decided not to come to the dance because of you! Sunset… Sunset’s my friend, and I keep seeing that she’s hurting, and she needs help, and I don’t know what to do because I don’t understand what happened. All I understand is that it’s because of you, because of what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Flash cried.

“Something must have happened.”

“Sure, something happened; she did!” Flash replied. “Come on, man, you’re on her team. You know what she was like; you know what she was. I couldn’t take it any more.”

He turned away and wandered to the window, although the window itself was obscured by the drawn curtains. “Actually,” he said, “that isn’t true. I did do something. I lied to her about why we were breaking up.”

“What?”

“I let her think that it was… because she was a faunus. I thought it was kinder to let her think that it was my… racism, I guess, rather than her… her. I thought it was for the best back then, but now, if what you say is true…”

“Now you think it did a number on her,” Jaune said, who was beginning to suspect the exact same thing.

“You can’t imagine what it was like,” Flash said. “Sunset… she wasn’t happy, and she held me responsible for whether she was or not. When she had a rough day, it was my job to make her feel better, to pick up the pieces, regardless of how I felt or how I was doing. And even when she had better days, it was… it was like it was all down to me, like I was the only reason there was any light in her life. And every day… every day I had to watch the person I… I cared about get more and more twisted and bitter until… I just couldn’t take it any more.

“Maybe I should have done more to help her. I know that I shouldn’t have lied to her. And I’m sorry if she’s still upset over what happened, but… it’s all so long ago now. What am I supposed to do?”

“Just…talk to her,” Jaune said. “I don’t know what it was like for you… but Sunset isn’t like that any more. She has friends now, people she can rely on. She doesn’t need to depend on you, just like she doesn’t need to depend on me, or Pyrrha, or Ruby, or Blake, because she has all of us. There’s more than one light in her life now, but… but I don’t think she can get past you without your help.”

Flash looked over his shoulder, and then turned around. “This is important to you, isn’t it?”

“Like I said,” Jaune replied, “she’s my friend. We look out for each other.”

Flash smiled. “She’s lucky to have you. All of you.”

“We’re lucky to have her,” Jaune said.

“I guess you are,” Flash said. “Do you guys even realise what a lucky team you are? The team to beat, the team everybody’s looking at?”

“I’ve… heard it said,” Jaune said, thinking that Sunset had talked about their team in much the same way.

“And you are lucky to have her,” Flash sighed. “When I saw her fight with Pyrrha last semester… Sunset was always brilliant, smart, ferocious, and ferociously talented…but I didn’t know just how much she’d been hiding until I saw that fight. I didn’t realise how bright, how brilliant her light was.”

“It sounds a little like Sunset’s not the only one who isn’t over it yet,” Jaune murmured.

Flash snorted. “I… I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks, man,” Jaune said. “I think… I think it’ll really make her night.”

In the Team RSPT dorm room, the three organic members of the team put their combined talents together to help Penny get ready for the dance. Or rather, Ciel and Twilight had put their combined talents together, since Rainbow Dash didn’t have many useful skills in that regard.

But that didn’t matter, since between them, Ciel and Twilight had the know-how to make Penny like… pretty darn good, actually.

“A girl your age doesn’t need much make-up,” Ciel informed her subject, as she applied some wings of rose gold eye shadow. “Just a little bit, to accent your best qualities.” She straightened up. “And we are done.”

“You’ve done a great job, Ciel,” Twilight said. “You’ve got a real talent for this stuff.”

“Yes, thank you so much for all your help!” Penny cried, clapping her hands together in front of the mirror that Twilight was holding up to her face. “You’ve all done so much for me tonight! Is this what it’s like to have sisters?”

“It’s not what it’s like with my sister,” Rainbow muttered.

Ciel glanced at Rainbow Dash where she sat on her bed. “I didn’t believe that you had any sisters.”

“I have… okay, she’s not technically my blood sister or anything, but she’s as good as,” Rainbow said. “And we don’t do any of…” – she waved one hand airily – “this.”

“I think if you asked our friend Rarity, she’d tell you that having a sister involves less make-up tips and more… well, yelling and screaming,” Twilight said softly. She laughed nervously. “But anyway… you look really great too, Ciel.”

Rainbow was not so sure. Ciel was dressed in an expansive and many-layered blue ballgown, with a few hints of white lace petticoat peeking out from underneath the second – and darker blue – layer of skirt, while an upper layer of a lighter shade covered… three quarters of the dress, as far as Rainbow could work out, so that it was hard to see the point in the lower layer. The bodice was ridiculously fancy, with no less than five bows on it, one at the waist where the bodice met the skirt, one halfway up where a lower layer of lace frills beneath the collar converged, and one, the most extravagant because it was actually two bows one on top of the other, sitting in the middle of the collar that was falling off Ciel’s shoulders and which was adorned with lace frills and two more small bows at the shoulders themselves. Each bow had a gleaming blue gemstone in the centre of it. It looked… it looked to Rainbow like the kind of thing Rarity would think was a bit over the top, but then, Rainbow wasn’t Rarity and so she couldn’t really say for sure.

And Twilight thought it looked nice, so who was Rainbow Dash to say any different?

Ciel curtsied. “Thank you,” she said. “And for your earlier praise. I simply did my best with the time and materials available.”

“So,” Rainbow said, “what time is your date getting here?”

Twilight gasped. “You have a date?”

Ciel sighed. “Is it not possible for me to have even a little privacy?”

“Not in a room this size,” Rainbow said.

“Hmm,” Ciel said. “His name is Dove Bronzewing, a young gentleman of Tintagel who requested the pleasure of my company. Since he is of reasonable character and decently regarded, I saw no reason to refuse him.”

“Only you would talk that way about your own boyfriend,” Rainbow said.

“He is not my boyfriend,” Ciel declared firmly. “He’s just a handsome, well-mannered young man of no ill-repute who is escorting me to the dance in-” – she wasn’t wearing her watch over the white opera gloves she had on presently, so Ciel picked up her scroll off the desk and checked the time – “two minutes.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Or he could be early,” Twilight said.

Ciel picked up her skirt with both hands and went to the door.

On the other side when she opened it was Lyra and Bon Bon’s replacement teammate, Dove, dressed in a blue double-breasted jacket with tails hanging down the back of his cream britches, with polished black boots as high up as his knees, and an amber cravat wrapped around his neck. He held himself stiffly, awkwardly, a slightly wide-eyed look on his face as though he wasn’t sure why he was here or what he was meant to do, and for a moment, Rainbow thought he was about to freak out there in the doorway, but he seemed to recover enough to take Ciel’s gloved hand in his and raise it to his lips as he bowed.

“Miss Ciel,” he said as he brushed his lips across her knuckles.

A sort of mild squeal of excitement passed from Ciel’s lips, making Rainbow wish that she’d set up her scroll to record it for posterity. “You… you’re early.”

Dove cleared his throat. “I apologise, Miss Ciel, I hope I didn’t inconvenience you..”

“A gentleman would need to be far earlier than you in order to be inconvenient, sir,” Ciel declared.

“I am glad,” Dove replied. “Are you ready to go, this, Miss Ciel?”

“I will be, in just a moment,” Ciel said. “Will you excuse me.”

Dove bowed his head. “Of course. I’ll be waiting right here.”

Ciel curtsied to him before closing the door. She crossed the room quickly to her bed, where a white clutch bag was waiting. Into this bag, she placed her scroll and the pistol that she normally kept under her pillow.

“You’re taking a gun to the dance?” Twilight asked.

“I would rather have one and not need it than be without it in the event of an emergency,” Ciel explained. “Now, if you will excuse me?”

“Have fun,” Rainbow said.

“And thanks again for all your help!” Penny cried.

“It was a pleasure and a privilege,” Ciel assured her as she slipped her bag over her hand and let it dangle delicately from her carefully positioned wrist. She opened the door open. “I am ready to go.”

“Excellent,” Dove replied, still sounding a little more nervous than enthusiastic. “Will you… will you take my arm, then?”

“Of course,” Ciel said, as she slipped her hand through the crook of Dove’s arm and rested her fingertips upon his elbow. With her free hand, she lifted up some of her voluminous skirt out of the way of her dress.

She looked up at Dove, but he was looking straight ahead as the door closed behind them.

“I guess they’re well matched in acting kind of weird sometimes,” Rainbow observed.

“Some people like old-fashioned manners, even when they’re not actually old-fashioned,” Twilight pointed out. “Like Rarity.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Rainbow allowed.

Penny stood up. She was dressed in a plum-coloured dress with a broad skirt that descended to just below her knees, with a white collar falling off her shoulders and little see-through puffy sleeves just underneath, with a purple bow tied at the centre of the collar and two more looking like they were tying off the sleeves. Most of her arms were bare, but a pair of white gloves covered her hands and wrists and got a little bit of the way towards her elbows. A necklace of green beads hung from her neck, as well as green earrings and bead bracelets upon both wrists. “Can we go now as well?” she asked

“Uh, sure, why not?” Rainbow asked, rolling off the bed and getting to her feet. The dress that she had received from Rarity had not been at all what Rainbow was expecting, to be honest; instead of a bodice, she was wearing a double-breasted blue jacket with polished silver buttons, only partially hidden beneath a fur-trimmed cape, not quite long enough to reach her waist, fastened around her neck with a lightning bolt clasp. A golden sash was wound around her waist, beneath which she wore a thin skirt, dark blue with a light blue and gold hem, over a pair of tight-fitting trousers and boots.

“Listen, Twi,” Rainbow said, “are you sure that you don’t want to come?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Twilight said. “Maybe if Pinkie and the other girls were here-”

“I’m here,” Rainbow reminded her.

“I know that,” Twilight acknowledged, “but if we’re going to hang out, I’d rather just the two of us than a party planned by Sunset Shimmer.”

Rainbow snorted. “I guess that’s fair.”

Twilight smiled. “And I really do have a lot of work to do. Hopefully, with all the power of the CCT at my disposal, I can really make some progress on this trace.”

“Okay,” she said. She picked up the black slouch hat, with one corner folded up and a long golden feather in it, which Rarity had sent to complete her outfit. She placed it down upon her head. “Have a good time playing with computers until I get there.”

“I’m not playing,” Twilight complained. “But I’ll try my best. Have a great time, Penny.”

“I’ll try my best!” Penny declared. “Okay, Rainbow Dash, let’s go!”

Twilight Sparkle waited until Rainbow Dash had left with Penny before she, too, took her leave of the dorm room. She was not dressed up; in fact, she was a little more casually dressed than normal, having dispensed with her bow tie for the evening in order to let her collar hang loose. This might be a long night, after all.

Opening up her scroll, Twilight checked off that everything on her checklist was in the bag that waited beside her bed: computer, check; coffee, check; notepad, check; pencils, check; book to read during periods of long processing, check and double check – because she had two books, one on compressive engineering and the other on legendary creatures.

Twilight slung the rucksack over her shoulders and left the dorm room. Already, the dormitory corridor beyond was so empty as to warrant the adjective 'deserted'; everyone who wanted to go to the dance must have left already, and she guessed that anyone who didn't want to go was keeping themselves occupied quietly in their rooms. She didn't see anyone else as she left, although once she got out onto the grounds, she could see students in dresses or dinner suits making their way towards the ballroom. None of them noticed Twilight as she headed the opposite direction, towards the CCT.

That part of the courtyard was as deserted as the dormitory had been, save for the Atlesian soldier, with yellow highlights on his armour – Twilight was not a soldier, but she had grown up in a sufficiently martial milieu to know that that meant Light Company – standing guard on the steps outside the tower door.

Twilight fished her scroll – which had her authorisation from General Ironwood to be in the tower during a closed period – out of her bag and held it up as she climbed the steps.

The guard leaned down to look at it. "That looks in order. We were told to expect someone. Go right ahead, but don't put that scroll away; you'll probably have to show it again once you get inside."

"Right, thanks."

"Have a nice night."

"You too," Twilight said, as she left the guard at his post and walked through the large, faux-wooden doors of the tower.

She did indeed have to show her scroll again once she walked in, to prove to the sergeant that she was the one they'd been expecting.

"That checks out," the sergeant said. "Hey, aren't you Shining Armor's kid sister?"

"Yeah," Twilight said. "You know my brother?"

"He was my CO for a while," the sergeant replied. "Good guy, talked about you a lot; I hear you're some kind of genius."

Twilight felt her face flush. "Well… I try my best."

"All you can do. So, how's your big bro? How's married life treating him? He's Council Guard now, right?"

"Captain of the Council Guard," Twilight said, in a voice that she hoped struck the right balance between pride in his accomplishment and an appropriate sense of modesty.

One of the other soldiers patrolling the lobby whistled appreciatively. "Nice."

"Hey, quit listening in on other people's conversations and do your job!" the sergeant snapped. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Twilight said quickly. "And Shining Armor is fine too; he and Cadance are very happy. I think she's glad he has a post where he can come home every night."

It occurred to Twilight the moment after she said that that it might have been the wrong thing to say to a man who didn't get to go home every night to his family, but the sergeant didn't seem to take offence. "Lucky guy. He'll appreciate it even more once the kids come along."

"Run, kid, he's about to show you his family photos!" one of the soldiers shouted.

"Hey! You want to be cleaning out the toilets on the Resolution from now until the end of the tournament, keep talking," snapped the sergeant. "Anyway, you can go right up. There'll be patrols up there every hour or so, but I can send a guy to keep an eye on you if you like."

"No, that won't be necessary, thank you."

"Okay. Just give a holler if you need something."

"I will," Twilight said, as she walked towards the elevator. "But I'm sure that tonight is going to be very quiet."

“So, uh,” Pyrrha hesitated as she stood in front of them, her hands spread out on either side of her. “How… how do I look?”

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of crimson and shimmering gold, with the red, strapless, shoulderless bodice partially concealed behind a wide golden sash that wound up from her waist to her shoulder, where it was tied off into a large bow that gently tickled her neck as she walked. Her skirt followed a similar pattern, with a red underskirt of a full, almost ballgown cut, of which only a section at the front was visible from beneath the gold peplum that surrounded it on all other sides down to the floor. Around her waist was tied a somewhat shorter red sash than she usually wore, with the disk bearing her spear emblem fastened to her right hip. Long white gloves enclosed her pale arms, while above her left elbow, she wore her golden honour band. Her circlet held its accustomed place upon her brow, and she wore her hair in its accustomed ponytail. A single emerald, teardrop shaped, sat upon her breast, suspended by a chain of gold about her neck.

Blake nodded approvingly. Sunset looked up and down the gown of scarlet and gold.

“You look great,” Sunset said. “But there is something missing.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “What?”

Sunset’s hand glowed with magic as she levitated a box up from underneath her bed and sent it gliding through the air towards Pyrrha. “A present.”

“A gift?” Pyrrha repeated. “What’s the occasion?”

“Um… something however many monthaversary?” Sunset suggested. “Just say thank you and open it up.”

Pyrrha opened the box, pulling out a corsage of white roses and baby’s breath. “Oh, Sunset, it’s lovely,” she cried. “Thank you.” She smiled. “Would you mind helping me-?”

Sunset wiggled her fingers, still aglow with magical power, and the glistening diamante clasp on which the corsage rested fastened itself around Pyrrha’s wrist.

“Thank you, again,” Pyrrha said. She looked down at it for a moment, the flowers sitting upon her glove, before her gaze once more took in the rest of her outfit. “And you think that Jaune will-”

“Yes,” Sunset said sharply. “For Celestia’s sake, don’t go getting insecure on us now.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, as if it were automatic. “You’re right, of course; Jaune will love it because it’s a lovely dress. In fact, it’s a beautiful dress, Ruby, absolutely beautiful!” She twirled in place, crimson and gold fabric rustling as it swished around her. “Oh, thank you so much. How can I ever repay you?”

“You don’t have to worry about that, Pyrrha,” Ruby said, a smile illuminating her silver eyes. She got up off her bed – and promptly tripped over her high heels with a squawk of alarm. “Although if you want to return the favour, maybe you could tell me how you and Blake manage to fight in these death traps?”

“Practice, I’m afraid,” Pyrrha murmured apologetically.

“Once you wear them often enough, you get used to the difference in your centre of gravity,” Blake said.

“Okay,” Ruby said, holding her arms out like a tightrope walker with his pole as she teetered and tottered where she stood. “But can I follow up by asking why you’d even want to?”

“I trained in high heels from the moment I started training,” Pyrrha said. “I was told a feminine touch would be good for my image.”

“Seriously?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha shrugged. “Tournaments, as you’ll find out when the Vytal festival starts, are fought in the public eye as much as in the arena. There’s no point being a champion if everyone in the crowd is rooting for you to lose.”

“I don’t know,” Sunset said. “If I was in that position, I might take a certain glee in winning anyway to spite the lot of them.”

“But who’ll want to sponsor a detested champion?” Pyrrha asked. “Who wants to buy a magazine carrying an interview with the person they hate?”

“Who wants to buy cereal with the face of the biggest heel on the circuit on it?” Sunset finished.

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Yes, well… exactly.”

“Don’t blush; you’ll make your make-up run,” Sunset said, with a slight trace of a smirk. “It’s all a big business really, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” Pyrrha said. “As much as I sometimes wish it wasn’t.”

“You may not like it, but you know a lot about the way it works,” Blake pointed out.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” Pyrrha said.

“Do I have a choice about whether to wear these stupid lady stilts?” Ruby asked. She tried to take a step forward and nearly fell backwards.

Sunset leapt up and grabbed her outstretched hand. “You’re trying to put too much weight on your toes; lean backwards.” She remembered what it had been like, trying to learn to walk on two legs instead of four. At first, her every step had felt like walking on powdered glass, her unfamiliar muscles aching and straining as she had to almost break them in at an age when all of her human or faunus contemporaries had been using them for years. She’d been in and out of the faunus free clinic on the corner of the block so often with strains and pulled muscles in her early days that the nurses had recognised her by sight. Even standing upright and erect had been a trial for her, a trial that had required as much determination on her part to master as learning any complex spell had done back in Equestria. And when the time had come to learn to walk in high heels, well… if she hadn’t activated her aura by then, she would have broken her neck falling down the stairs at Flash’s place at least twice.

She had learned how, because Sunset Shimmer was not a person who accepted her limitations, but she still didn’t particularly like it.

There was a reason she wore boots as a matter of course.

Still, she suspected that she understood what Ruby was going through a little better than Blake or Pyrrha were capable of, and so she moved to position herself in front of Ruby and gently reached out to take Ruby’s other hand in her own.

“This isn’t standing on tiptoes,” Sunset said. “Don’t put all your weight forward, or you’ll end up leaning forwards. Step with your heel first, then put your toe down. Take it slowly. I’ve got you.”

Sunset stepped backwards as Ruby stepped – gingerly, very gingerly – forwards. She did as Sunset had told her, stepping forward with her heel first. She wobbled in Sunset’s grip, but not so badly as she had done before.

“There, see?” Sunset said. She grinned. “And now we can move on to ballroom dancing.”

Ruby giggled. “Thanks, Sunset.”

“No problem,” Sunset said, backing up another step as Ruby stepped forward with her other foot.

Someone knocked on the door. It turned out to be Jaune. “Uh, am I too early?” he asked. “Because I can come back if I’m too early; it’s no big deal. Well, actually, Ren’s already gone, so I wouldn’t be able to get back into the Iron dorm room, and I don’t really want to go wait with Cardin, but I could go… somewhere and wait for you if you’re, uh… I’ll be honest, I grew up with seven sisters, but I never found out what they actually did to get ready for parties; it was kind of like a magic box where Saffron stepped in looking like one thing and came out looking like something else… a magic box that takes awhile.” He laughed nervously. “It’s kinda funny; the first time it happened, I thought she’d been replaced by a monster or something-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha’s voice was right with amusement as she opened the door. “You don’t need to go anywhere. You’re right on time.”

Jaune – Sunset was pleased to note that he was wearing the carnation in his buttonhole; in fact, he looked rather nice in his black tailcoat and ribbed dress shirt, with a white tie around his neck and a white scarf draped across his shoulders. A top hat, Sunset thought, would have set the whole thing off nicely, but it might also have looked a little pretentious, so she would forgive the absence – stared at her. “…wow. You, you look… wow.”

Pyrrha laughed. “And you look very dashing yourself, Jaune.”

“Really?” Jaune asked, as Sunset noted that he was wearing a red sash around his waist, like the time in the forest when Pyrrha had given him her sash to wear.

Pyrrha, you don’t have a thing to worry about.

“So,” Jaune said. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” Blake said. “I expect I’ll find Sun waiting for me at the ballroom.”

“Why don’t we all go down together?” Pyrrha suggested, looking back at Sunset and Ruby. “As a team.”

“Great idea,” Ruby said. “If you’re sure you don’t mind me slowing you down in these stupid things.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha said. “I think it will be nice if we do this together. Jaune?”

“Sure, sounds great,” Jaune agreed.

“Well, okay then,” Sunset agreed. “Let’s dazzle Remnant.”

Sunset wore a dress of velvet green with a slender silhouette, shoulderless but high-necked, leaving her arms bare but rather fastening around her throat with a black collar that almost resembled a choker. The bodice hugged her figure, while the skirt did not stray from her legs at all unless Sunset’s right leg itself strayed out via the long slit on that side of the skirt, from the hem all the way up to Sunset’s thigh, exposing her leg to view as she walked.

Ruby wore a little red dress, with a skirt that stopped just below her thighs, the remainder of her leg being covered by dark, nearly opaque tights. The dress was strapless and shoulderless, but a similar substance covered her upper body and neck. A black sash was bound about her waist, tied into a bow upon her right.

Blake was rather understatedly dressed in a dark purple cocktail dress, with cap sleeves and a rather plain black belt around her waist. For one night only, the bow was back in her wild black hair – complementing, not covering, her ears this time – and black onyx bracelets dangled from her wrists.

The five of them went down together, arm in arm, only slowed down a little by Ruby's discomfort in and lack of familiarity with high heels – with Sunset on one side and Blake on the other holding onto her, she was a lot more relaxed about the chance of falling down. As they walked down the empty corridors and deserted staircases, passing out of the dormitory and into the grounds where the brisk night air caressed her face, Sunset was surprised to realise just how relaxed she felt. It wasn't a feeling she usually associated with these kinds of social gatherings. She had attended the Canterlot formals, if only because to have stayed away would have been an admission of fear, and she would never give her enemies the satisfaction of knowing that they had scared her off, but even when she and Flash had been together, she had always been on edge during those evenings. Even when he had been by her side, and even more when he had not, she had always been waiting, fearfully; waiting for the prank, for the humiliation, for the attack, for whatever they had planned for her.

There hadn't always been anything to worry about, but that had never stopped her from worrying.

After all, there had been times when there had been something to worry about.

But now, with one arm slipped into the crook of Pyrrha's elbow and her other hand holding on to Ruby, Sunset found herself astonished by her lack of such fears or nerves. Instead, she felt relaxed, comfortable; unafraid. Her team, her friends, they would stand by her. And that meant she had nothing to worry about.

So long as they stand by me. That was the less obvious danger of Jaune and Pyrrha pairing off: not that they would break up, but that they wouldn't, that they would revolve around each other like binary stars drifting out of Sunset's orbit and far away.

Or not. Even if they are in love, they'll still need friends, right? Sunset put her worries aside. For now, for tonight, she could relax.

Blake's prediction was borne out as they found Sun waiting outside the ballroom. His concession to formalwear appeared to have been changing his jacket and wearing a tie around his bare neck in a way that – to Sunset – made him look more underdressed than he had been without.

Blake seemed to like it, though, and that was probably the only thing that really mattered.

Pyrrha and Jaune, Blake and Sun entered the ballroom in pairs; they clearly weren't the first to arrive, but judging by the numbers already waltzing on the dance floor, they weren't the last ones either. Ruby and Sunset were about to follow when-

"Ruby!" Penny called; she left Rainbow Dash behind as she ran across the stones of the courtyard towards them. "I'm so glad I caught you before you got inside," she said. Penny looked Ruby up and down. "I wanted to thank you for this amazing dress!” She didn’t so much twirl as run around in a circle, arms spread out on either side of her as though she were trying to fly. “I love it so much!”

Ruby giggled. “I’m really glad, Penny. It looks great on you.”

Penny beamed. "Ruby, would you like to accompany me inside?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Sure I would Pen-aaagh!" That last squawk was on account of the way that Penny hadn't waited for her to finish before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the ballroom at a flat run, leaving Sunset and Rainbow Dash standing outside eating their dust.

“She’s… energetic,” Sunset observed.

“She’s been looking forward to this,” Rainbow replied.

“Why?” Sunset asked. “It’s not going to be that good.”

“Maybe for her, it will be,” Rainbow siad. “I mean, it’s not like she has any other dances to compare it to.”

“I guess,” Sunset conceded. “Still, with nothing to compare it to, what does she have to look forward to?”

“Music? Fun?” Rainbow suggested. She paused. “Are you going to be okay in there?”

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Sunset replied tersely. She paused. “Where’s Twilight?”

“In the tower, working.”

“Tonight?”

“She, um… that guy, Neptune, he-”

“Really?” Sunset gasped. She had never thought she would see the day when Twilight Sparkle, of all people, got turned down. “Why?”

“Twilight didn’t ask.”

“Why does he still have all his teeth?”

“I’m not going to beat him up just because he said no to Twilight,” Rainbow said sharply.

Sunset looked at her.

Rainbow sighed. “Twi asked me not too.”

Sunset chuckled. “So, Twilight decided that she’d rather work than show her face?” I wish I’d thought of that excuse.

“Pretty much,” Rainbow admitted. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Not really,” Sunset confessed. “But it beats standing out here, I suppose.”

The two of them made their way into the ballroom; Yang had volunteered to work front of house, possibly because she didn’t trust Sunset to do the job properly – and this was perhaps the one time Sunset would admit that she was right not to trust Sunset to do the job properly. Either way, Yang was standing in front of a white-grey lectern just beyond the doors, turned away from them as she watched Ruby and Penny, but she swiftly returned her attention to the doors and to Sunset and Rainbow as they entered.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted them. To Sunset, she said, “Thanks for showing up.”

Sunset’s tail twitched. “No problem,” she said. “Did we miss anything?”

Octavia’s string quartet were up on the stage, the cellist setting the pace as the soothing sounds echoed across the ballroom. Some people were already sat at the tables or congregating around the punch bowl or sampling their hors d’oevres. Those couples who were on the dance floor were milling around, talking but not dancing; the music was not yet appropriate for it. Vinyl Scratch looked asleep, although with her eyes covered by magenta sunglasses – at night? Indoors? – it was hard to tell, she might just have been relaxing.

“Nah, you’re still early,” Yang told them. “I told them both to give it a little longer before they started the first dance. I don’t want anyone to miss out.”

“So, do you want anything?” Jaune asked. “Punch or-?”

“I’m fine, Jaune,” Pyrrha assured him as the music of the string quartet died down, leaving only the hubbub of the students in the ballroom. “Besides, I think it will be starting soon.”

The cellist – Octavia, Sunset had said her name was – flipped a page in her music book, leading her fellow musicians to do likewise.

“Right,” Jaune said. He smiled at her. “I suppose this isn’t the best time to say that I don’t know how to slow dance?”

Pyrrha looked up at him. It was impossible to tell from his expression whether he was joking or not.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one gloved hand as she giggled. “I have no idea whether to believe you or not,” she admitted. “But either way, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I’m with you,” Pyrrha told him. “And tonight, that’s all I want.”

The strings started up again, the music rising from their instruments to blanket the chatter of the dancers, which died away as everyone took their partners in hold or else were taken in hold by their partners.

Jaune took a deep breath. “Shall we?” he asked, as he held out one hand to her.

Pyrrha smiled close-mouthed as she placed her fingers into the palm of his hand, letting his fingers close over them.

Despite the silk of her glove, she fancied that she could still feel the strength of his touch, the gentleness.

He took her in hold, his hand upon her waist; her whole body tensed automatically, but then relaxed again as she placed her free hand upon his shoulder because this was nothing to be nervous about, nothing to be afraid of; this was Jaune. This… this was what she had been dreaming about.

The music swelled, the introduction over and the dance proper beginning, a slow waltz to get everyone started. All around them, the other couples were moving too, but Pyrrha had only a few seconds to register that because they were moving themselves, she was moving, guided by Jaune.

He had not been entirely inaccurate about the slow dancing; his movements were not clumsy, but they were considered, careful, as if he feared that he might make a misstep or a slip-up and was on his guard against such.

They were probably well-matched in that. For her part, Pyrrha feared that her own steps were too mechanical, too rote. There had been a time when she had loved to dance, but when the time came to instruct her in such dances as these, she had been taught not to indulge her passion but because it was a part of a young lady’s education, traditional and expected, and such tuition had driven out any enthusiasm that she might have had for it. She knew the steps, but she had no feel for them; they were just places to stand, ways to hold herself, another way of performing for the audience.

Except there was no audience now. There was no one else on the floor, no one else in the ballroom, no one else in the whole of Beacon except for Jaune, and as they moved, as his grip upon her waist tightened without ever threatening to become painful, Pyrrha found herself moving more naturally, more instinctually, knowing what to do not because she had learnt it by rote but because she felt it as she felt the rhythm of the battlefield.

Her smile blossomed into something brilliant as she looked into Jaune’s eyes. They were so blue. So beautiful. How was it she had not drowned in them?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a reverberating thud from up on stage. She and Jaune both looked that way for a moment without breaking step, not even while the music faltered.

The DJ, a girl whose pallor made Ruby seem tanned, whose messy hair was intermingled streaks of electric blue and cyan, had woken up or decided to get involved – those sunglasses made it hard to tell – and was now holding one headphone up to her ear as she worked her complex sound system.

The cellist, her raven hair cascading down her back, glared at her for a moment before attempting to continue on as though nothing had happened.

The DJ paused and seemed for a moment contemplative. Then a slow smile spread across her pale face before her fingers began to fly across her control panel, bass thumps and pounding beats erupting out of the speakers at her command. For a moment, string and speaker warred with one another… at least, that was what Pyrrha thought for those first few moments, before she realised that what she was hearing was not competition but… complementarity. The DJ was not trying to drive the strings off the stage, but to work with them, each pulsing beat filling a lull in the music of the quartet, even as the strings began to respond, bending and twisting around the beats like water flowing around the rocks that rise in the midst of a river.

Octavia’s smile began to match that on the DJ’s face as the two forces slid into perfect harmony.

It was not quite like anything that Pyrrha had ever heard before, but it was in no way distasteful for being unique. Rather, in its uniqueness, it was… quite wonderful: unique, yes, and strange, but in such a way as to make you wonder why nobody had thought of this before.

Jaune seemed to be of like mind, for as the music blended, his movements relaxed visibly, became less cautious, less controlled; just as Pyrrha had done, he began to flow with the music, his body twisting, turning, until he released Pyrrha by the waist and flung her outwards, throwing his own arm back – not hitting anyone, thankfully – as Pyrrha took a step back from him, her own arm out, the two of them joined only by the hand.

And then he grabbed her by the waist with both hands and lifted her up, into the air, above the dance floor, turning her in place with both hands as Pyrrha spread her arms out like a bird in flight.

This, she thought, is the best night ever.

“I’m a little surprised you’re so good at this,” Blake confessed as the dance slowed down again enough for them to speak, albeit speak softly so as not to disturb anyone else.

“I… may have been practicing a little bit,” Sun confessed. “I may have dropped those Atlesian etiquette classes but… I wanted to be able to do this.”

“For me?” Blake asked, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

“For us,” Sun clarified. “Or… for me. I didn’t want to be like to Neptune, for one thing.”

Blake didn’t understand what he meant by that, but she decided to let it go and ask the question she was more interested in, “Is there another thing?”

Sun was silent for a moment, his becoming solemn. “I know that I won’t have you forever,” he said. “Even if you don’t fly away to Atlas, I’ll be flying back to Haven when the year ends-”

“You haven’t thought about sticking around?” Blake asked.

Sun paused. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted. “But if I did that, if I hung Neptune and Scarlet and Sage out to dry so that I could be with you, I wouldn’t exactly be the kind of guy you’d want to be with, would I?”

Blake didn’t reply. She felt, she almost felt, like she didn’t have to.

“You’ve made me a better person, Blake,” Sun said. “It just kinda sucks that being a better man means that I won’t have you for very long.” He grinned. “Besides, I think I’d probably freeze to death up north.”

Blake sniggered. “You might need to wear a couple of extra layers.”

“But what I’m trying to say is,” Sun went on, “that I wanted to be able to have these memories, with you, tonight, and to have them be good ones, so that even if we don’t have very long together, I’ll still have something I can remember.”

Blake smiled, and as she smiled she leaned forwards, so that her head was resting on his chest as they swayed to the music. “I’m glad that it wasn’t for me,” she murmured. “Because I don’t want you to change who you are for my sake, or even feel that you should.” She paused a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her as she breathed. “But I am glad you did this.”

As the first dance began, Sunset and Rainbow Dash left Yang greeting the stragglers and wandered over to the punch bowl. Sunset picked up a cup, but hesitated. "Knowing how much Yang was involved in planning this dance, I'm not sure if I actually want to try the punch."

"I heard that!"

Rainbow was bolder, filling up her cup nearly to the brim. She sipped from it as the two of them watched the dancers on the floor. Pyrrha fitted into Jaune's arms as though they'd been made for one another, and they danced with a grace that was expected, in the case of Pyrrha, and surprising, in the case of Jaune. Penny, meanwhile, had lifted Ruby an inch off the ground and was turning in rough circles to the music, while Ruby looked to be getting a little dizzy.

Rainbow Dash raised her cup. "To Sapphire."

Sunset risked the unpredictable touch of Yang to fill a cup, and raise it. "To Rosepetal."

They knocked their paper cups together and drank.

"Not in a mood for dancing, either of you?" Professor Ozpin inquired politely, even as he stole up on them so stealthily that his question was the first sign that Sunset had of his presence.

Sunset turned to look up into the face lined with age. "The shepherdess can watch over her flock without doing... whatever it is that sheep do in the meadow. Or the paddock. Or wherever the shepherdess might happen to be watching them at the time." She blinked. "That metaphor was not one of my best for a small host of reasons."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Your commitment to your role is admirable, Miss Shimmer, but not entirely necessary. When can you let your hair down if not on a night like this?"

"Professor, I suspect you know full well that I was being facetious."

The headmaster's expression did not alter. "And I suspect you know full well that my point stands regardless. And you, Miss Dash; is something keeping you here, on the sidelines of the festivities?"

Rainbow Dash shrugged. "Believe me, sir, I've got no objection to a good party... but it needs to have the right people here, and they're not right now."

"But that is precisely why we have nights like these, to help forge new friendships, and strengthen the old ones so that they will last a lifetime," Professor Ozpin said. He looked away from Sunset and Rainbow, and out at the figures on the ballroom floor. In particular, his gaze seemed to linger upon Jaune and Pyrrha; they, of course, were too lost in one another to notice. "They make a handsome pair, don't they?"

"She's a beautiful young woman," Sunset replied. "He's... alright."

"Young," Professor Ozpin repeated. "Yes, you are all so young."

"Sir?" Rainbow asked.

Professor Ozpin's smile was melancholy, and rather lonely. "When I was young, each day seemed as long as a year, and summer seemed to be without an end; it seemed I could sit under the shade of the trees for as long as I wished, or squander the treasure of my time on... nothing. But night draws in, and Fall comes for us all; the leaves beneath which we sheltered descend... and they are ground to mulch beneath the march of time; even those from whom we once swore we would never be parted are taken from us, leaving only memories behind.

"No one has ever regretted that they had too many memories of the cherished companions of their youths, but there are many who regret that they have too few. I beg you both not to be among them."

Sunset and Rainbow exchanged a glance at one another.

“If I may rebut, Professor,” Sunset said, “I don’t deny your point, but there are a lot of ways to make memories. Sometimes by dancing, and sometimes…” – she raised her cup of punch – “by sharing a drink with a rival you respect.”

Professor Ozpin’s voice carried with it an undercurrent of amusement. “Well, Miss Shimmer, since you’ve been so good as to accept my point, how can I refuse to accept yours? I’ll leave you to it.”

They watched him walk away, to talk to Professor Goodwitch and the newly-arrived General Ironwood.

“Weird old guy sometimes, isn’t he?” Rainbow asked.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Sunset said. Even I don’t have nearly as good an idea as I’d like.

Rainbow drank down the rest of her cup of punch. It left a bit of a red stain on her upper lip. “So, rivals, huh?”

“Yep,” Sunset said. “If our teams don’t meet in the Vytal tournament, I’ll be very disappointed.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Rainbow said. “'Cause if you and I find ourselves facing each other in the arena, it’ll mean Pyrrha won’t be getting into the singles round.”

“Oho!” Sunset couldn’t hold back a guffaw at the audacity of that remark. “And talk like that is why we’re rivals, not friends.” She took a sip from her cup. The punch was sharp on her tongue. “So, who are you going to put forward for the singles round?”

“Who do you think?” Rainbow replied. “I mean, obviously, I’d like it to be me. I’d like to stand alone in that arena with all my friends watching… but it’s all about Penny. She’s the reason we’re here so…” Rainbow shrugged. “My dreams don’t count next to that.”

“You’re the team leader; you can do whatever you like.”

“Then why don’t you put yourself forward to the singles round?” Rainbow asked. “Tell me you don’t want to be in the spotlight as much as I do, and I’ll call you a liar to your face.”

Sunset smirked. “How do you know that I won’t do that?”

“Because when I talked like it was going to be Pyrrha for sure, you didn’t correct me,” Rainbow said.

Sunset shrugged. “Yeah, sure I want it. I want them to see me, I want them to cheer for me, I want the whole thing. And maybe I could even win… or else my ego is just that big. As Pyrrha herself – unintentionally – pointed out to me, tournament fighting is a business, and the business is pleasing crowds; nobody’s going to want to watch Sunset Shimmer kicking ass when the Invincible Girl of Mistral is stuck on the bench. That and, well… Lady Nikos has been very generous to me; it would be churlish on my part if I didn’t give her the thing that she wants most in all the world: the chance to see her daughter become the champion of champions.”

And besides, as she thought, but didn’t see the need to add for the benefit of Rainbow Dash. A win for Pyrrha is a win for the team; all our names will get set down, even if it’s only her head that wears the crown of victory.

And anyway, I’m definitely putting myself forward into the doubles.

“Hey, Sunset!”

Sunset turned around. Flash had hailed her as he walked into the ballroom, alone, waving one hand but then looking surprised when other people stopped what they were doing to look his way. He slouched down a little in the face of all the attention, walking more quickly over to where Sunset stood.

“Hey,” he said again.

“Hey,” Sunset replied.

Flash didn’t say anything for a little while. He looked briefly away from her, thrust his hands into his pockets, and frowned. “Can we talk?” he asked. “Somewhere… private?”

Sunset glanced at Rainbow Dash, who shrugged. “We can go outside,” Sunset suggested. “Or the balcony upstairs?”

“Yeah, the balcony sounds great,” Flash said. He gestured out in front of him. “After you.”

“Okay,” Sunset said, with more curiosity than anything else, as she took the lead in climbing up the spiral staircase onto the second floor balcony. She turned, leaning back against the wooden railings as Flash followed her up and out into the night air.

It was only when he emerged into the moonlight that she noticed that he wasn’t wearing a tie; his collar was undone, and he didn’t have a waistcoat on either. Compared to most of the men here (okay, compared to all of the men here not called Sun), he looked a little underdressed.

“You look good,” Flash said, nodding his head to indicate her pink-and-lavender gown.

“Are you okay?” Sunset asked. “You look a little…” – she waved her hand to take him in – “dishevelled.”

“I’ve been for a walk.”

“Did someone steal half your suit while you were walking?” Sunset asked.

“No, I didn’t put it all on,” Flash said. “Jaune gave me a lot to think about, and I had to… I’m sorry, Sunset.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “What did Jaune say?” I swear, I’m going to-

“He wanted to know just what it was that I did to you,” Flash said. “And what I was going to do to make it right.”

Sunset stared at him in silence for a moment. She looked away out of sheer embarrassment. Jaune, come on, really? I know Pyrrha wants you to be her hero, but that doesn’t mean that all the girls on your team feel the same way. Come on. “I’m sorry about that, Flash; I swear I didn’t put him up to that. You’d think he’d know that I don’t need a white knight to ride in and make everything better, but apparently-”

“Sunset, it’s okay,” Flash said, taking a step towards her. “I said I’m sorry, and I meant it. I… I didn’t break up with you because you were a faunus; I just told you that because… because I thought that it was kinder than telling you the truth, which is that-”

“That you broke up with me because I was a terrible person?” Sunset murmured. She gripped the cold metal railings of the balcony tightly, and looked away, down towards the ground. “I know.”

“You know?” Flash repeated.

“I think I’ve always known, deep down,” Sunset whispered. “I almost asked you about it, after the Forever Fall field trip.” After she had, for want of a better word, seen herself. Perhaps it was overstating the case to say that she had always known, but she had certainly had an inkling of it after that. Once you accepted the idea that you were or had been grievously flawed, it wasn’t that hard to start to wonder if that was the reason the love of your life didn’t want anything to do with you any more. She had almost gone to him, but… but fear had talked her out of it, fear and the fact that it had been easier to get swept away by her teammates and let it lie. Easier to believe the lie that Flash had told her and continue to think herself wronged and blameless as surely a lovestruck maid must be. “I don’t know whether to tell you that you ought to have been honest with me or thank you for giving me an excuse to hide behind.”

Flash frowned. “I… I never meant to hurt you.”

Sunset closed her eyes; her whole body shuddered, and not from the cold. What do I say? What do you want me to say? Do I tell you not to worry about it? Tell you that Jaune was overreacting? Tell you that I forgive you?

Or do I tell you the truth?

Twilight, what do I do?

Sunset opened her eyes and looked at him. “You might not have wanted to hurt me, but… but you did. I…” her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I loved you.”

“I… I didn’t realise,” Flash said hoarsely. “I wasn’t sure that you could still love, back then.”

“I trusted you,” Sunset said, her voice rising a little with an anger that she couldn’t wholly suppress. “You were the only one I trusted, and you betrayed me.”

“You needed more than I could give you,” Flash said. “You needed… you needed what your team gives you. I… I don’t apologise for what I did: breaking up with you. I couldn’t… but I am sorry for the way I did it, for lying to you about it… and for what that did to you.”

“You should be,” Sunset said. “I’m not saying it would have much of a difference back then; I still would have been mad at you, but… maybe I wouldn’t have found it so hard to trust anybody else afterwards. Maybe I would have been able to trust Jaune with Pyrrha without having to try and decide whether I needed to give one of my teammates the shovel-talk. Maybe I wouldn’t have hated Rainbow Dash quite so much for being the good faunus.” She frowned. “Or maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference at all. Who can say?” She shook her head, sending her hair shaking back and forth. “It doesn’t matter now. I have a great team, great friends-”

“You don’t have a date,” Flash pointed out.

Sunset snorted. “Neither do you, by the looks of things.”

“No,” Flash said. “You… seems like you’re a tough act to follow, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset’s right eyebrow quirked upwards. “You mean Weiss Schnee wouldn’t give you a second look. Don’t act like you haven’t been making moves because you’re not over me or something, I know better. And I don’t need your pity.”

“I wasn’t-”

“And don’t lie to me, either; we’ve established it was a mistake the first time,” Sunset said. She debated telling him that she’d asked Twilight, but that might sound fake or petty or both. And anyway, the fact that she got shot down wouldn’t do a lot to improve her standing, all things considered. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well, there is a dance going on downstairs,” Flash said.

“Really?” Sunset asked. “I don’t think we’re there any more, do you?”

“Maybe not,” Flash said. “But… we didn’t exactly leave it in a good place, and… we never got a last dance.”

Sunset smiled. “A last dance.”

Flash held out his hand. “Sunset Shimmer… would you care to come down to the dance with me?”

Sunset’s smile got a little bit wider as she slipped her hand into his open palm. “I would be delighted.”

And so they walked downstairs, hand in hand, like the prince and princess at the proverbial fairytale ball; all that it was missing was all the eyes in the room turning towards them in awe and fascination as they descended.

In actual fact, nobody gave them a second glance.

Not that Sunset cared. For once, this wasn’t about how the rest of the world saw her, this wasn’t about performing for the crowd, this wasn’t about her image. This was about her, and Flash, and picking up where they left off long enough to give it the ending that they needed and deserved.

They slipped into a gap on the ballroom floor, and Sunset rested her arms over his shoulders and felt his hands around her waist and it felt so natural, so right that Sunset began to wonder if this was a bad idea; was it just going to leave her wanting more in the end?

And that’s different from now… how, exactly?

“Is everything okay?” Flash asked.

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Everything’s…perfect.”

They began to sway in time to the music-

The music that abruptly cut out, to be replaced by what Sunset recognised after the first few bars as a Rainbooms number.

We’ve just got the day to get ready,

And there’s only so much time to lose,

“What?” Sunset asked, looking across the room at Rainbow Dash, who looked just as surprised as Sunset.

“What can I say?” Yang announced to the room at large. “It would be rude to have a lead guitarist in the room and not play any of their numbers.”

'Cause tonight, yeah

We’re here to party,

So let’s think of something fun to do,

Flash shrugged. “Nobody said our last dance had to be a waltz, right?”

Sunset grinned. “Let’s do this.”

Shake your tail,

'Cause we’re here to have a party tonight,

Shake your tail,

Shake your tail!

Sunset shook her tail and a whole lot more, her whole body shaking in rhythm to the music, her hands in the air; Flash was in front of her, and their bodies intertwined as they jerked to the music.

Shake your tail,

'Cause we’re here to have a party tonight,

Shake your tail,

Shake your tail!

Blake laughed at Sun as his tail performed ludicrously convoluted moves, tracing patterns in the air behind him. After a moment, she rejoined the dance, her face still flushed with mirth.

So what you didn’t get it right the first time,

Laugh it off,

No one said it is a crime,

Do your thing,

You know you’re an original,

You’re ideas are so funny that it’s criminal,

Ohhh-ahhh!

Flash was looking into her eyes, smiling at her the way he used to, and for a moment, for a glorious, beautiful, wonderful moment as the music swelled and they moved in time to the beat, it was as if everything that had come between them had been washed away and all the wounds had been cleansed of bitterness and hurt. It was like they had been taken back in time, given a second chance to do it all over again… and do it right.

Shake your tail,

'Cause we’re here to have a party tonight,

Shake your tail,

Shake your tail!

Pyrrha and Jaune were moving in perfect sync with each other. Everyone was dancing by now; whether they had partners or not, they were all out on the floor; nobody was standing out that Sunset could see. Everyone was dancing, but as the music began to slow down, so too did Flash and Sunset. She put her arms around him and allowed him to pull her close.

“I have a confession to make,” Sunset whispered into his ear, and for some reason, her eyes felt suddenly very moist and watery. “I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”

The Rainbooms' song ended; they swayed to the renewed sounds of a slow dance.

“I know what you mean,” Flash said. “I wish I didn’t, but I do. It’s going to be hard finding anybody to top you.”

“Liar,” Sunset said. She hesitated, swallowing the lump that threatened to form in her throat. “Goodbye, Flash Sentry.”

She closed her eyes as she felt him kiss her on the cheek.

Dove couldn’t meet Ciel’s eye.

He was too… ashamed, yes, that was the word. He was too ashamed to look her in the eye.

They were… he had lost track of what dance it was; it was hard to tell, when the music was all blending together like this. Perhaps he just had no ear for this kind of… whatever the blend of sounds was that was mostly flowing from the mixture of the DJ and the string quartet.

He took some comfort from the fact that Ciel didn’t really seem to appreciate it, although that hardly made him blameless in all of this.

He was sat, they were both sat – although he didn’t expect that to last for much longer – at one of the round tables that dotted the outskirts of the ballroom. A plate of nibbles, some fancy and others less so, sat in front of him. Dove, heedless of the way the chicken wing was staining his fingers with fat or sauce or both, used it to push some of the other food around on his plate, like a child presented with a meal he does not care for.

Ciel drummed her gloved fingers upon the tabletop. He didn’t look at her face, but the drumming she was making nevertheless told him a great deal about her expression.

“Mister Bronzewing,” she declared, “I would apologise for my bluntness save that would involve apologising for a lesser offence than that which you have offered without reserve, but do you intend to ask me to dance again, or will you continue to ignore me as you have done for most of the night?”

Dove sighed and bowed his head. It was not good. He had tried, he really had, but… but when he had held her, when he had looked into her eyes, all that he could see staring back at him was Amber, her expression filled with reproach. It cut him to the quick; it froze his legs in trunks of stone. He… he could not do it. He could not turn his back on her.

He heard Ciel sniff, whether with distaste or upset. “I see,” she said, her voice sharp and cold. “When you asked me to accompany you tonight, I took you for a gentleman; I see now that I was mistaken. If you will excuse me.” He heard her start to rise.

“I’m sorry,” he said, before he got too far away to hear him over the music. “I… I’m sorry,” he repeated.

He looked up. Ciel had stopped. Her ballgown swirled around her, her petticoats rustling as she turned back towards him. “Are you?” she asked.

“I am,” Dove declared. “I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position, it was unfair. I should never have even asked you. If it helps, it isn’t your fault.”

Ciel raised her chin the better to look down on him. “I was never under the impression that the fault was mine,” she declared proudly. “Although I am curious to hear you admit fault so readily.”

Dove let the chicken wing fall from his fingers. Idly, he picked up a napkin and wiped his fingertips with it. “There was… there was a girl, back home,” he confessed. “She lived… not far from my village. I met her in the woods one day, and she… and we… I loved her, or at least I thought I did.”

Ciel’s expression softened. She sat back down. “What became of her?”

Dove laughed bitterly. “I have absolutely no idea,” he confessed. “I thought I’d find her here! She told me that she was coming here; she promised to wait for me, but… but here I am, and here she isn’t. Maybe she’s gone, maybe she’d think I’m a fool for acting like this, but… I just can’t… I’m not ready to…”

Ciel placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Faith is nothing to be ashamed of, Mister Bronzewing-”

“Dove, please,” Dove begged her. “Please, Miss Ciel, Mister Bronzewing makes me feel very old.”

Ciel nodded, and it almost looked as though she smiled briefly. “Very well, Dove; faith is nothing to be ashamed of, no more than love. That you keep faith, even knowing that she may not, speaks well of your character. What does not speak so well is that you approached me regardless of these feelings and in doing so have, if you will permit me to say so, ruined my evening.”

“I know,” Dove admitted. “And I know that I can’t make it up to you; I can only say that I’m sorry, and that I hope the rest of your night is better than what I’ve given you.”

“That remains to be seen, but thank you for your sentiment and for your belated honesty,” Ciel said. Once more, she got to her feet. “I hope… I will pray to the Lady that the winds of fortune bring this girl back to you, or at least bring you news of her.”

“Really?” Dove asked. “That… that’s very kind of you.” His guilt was magnified by the fact that he had wronged a lady of such evident good quality.

Ciel did not seem to know how to acknowledge that, doing so only by a stiff nod as she walked away from his table, her gown trailing after her.

The empty seats at the table were soon filled, as he had thought – dreaded, somewhat – that they might be as Lyra and Bon Bon swooped down upon him like a pair of awkwardly affectionate vultures.

“What was that?” Bon Bon demanded.

“What was all of this, this whole night?” Lyra added. “No wonder she walked away; you’ve been terrible.”

Dove glanced first at Bon Bon, and then at Lyra. “Have you been spending the whole night watching me?”

“Clearly, we should have done more,” Bon Bon said. “Like give you an earpiece and fed you instructions.”

“I know how to talk to girls,” Dove insisted.

“Not on this evidence, you don’t,” Lyra muttered. “What happened? Where did all the charm go?”

“I’m not ready,” Dove told them. “I just… I can’t. Every time I looked at her… I saw Amber’s face. I can’t just betray her. And before you try and convince me that it’s not a betrayal: it is. It feels like it to me.”

Lyra sighed as she started rubbing his back. “Dove.”

Bon Bon frowned. “Are you going to stay like this forever?”

“I don’t know; who can say what the future holds?” Dove asked. “All I know is that I’m going to stay this way for now. I have to. I can’t force myself to do anything else. And neither can you.”

Cinder was for other than for dancing measures.

Let others dance, the fools; let them revel, let them waste their time in such frivolity.

How she despised them all.

And yet… how she envied them, also. They did not know how swift the world could change, how easily joy could change to terrible sadness.

How easily the world that seemed to adore you could switch to hating you with a terrible cruelty.

Not even Sunset understood, though she might learn, in time.

To her sorrow.

She pitied them that they would all learn soon enough.

Cinder hated them, that they might dance and revel and fill the room with so much laughter, little dreaming of how cold and dark the world might be, uncaring of the unseen suffering of those who toiled in misery and despair.

She wished them the joy of their summer while it lasted.

But for herself, the world afford no such merriment. But she would use the joy of others to her best advantage. While the whole school danced and pranced within the ballroom, she would blind the eyes of the Emerald Tower and turn them to her mistress’ purposes.

Her sable arms were as black as the night as she slipped behind the guard upon the tower door and broke his neck with a single blow. She dragged the body just out of sight and then slinked her way, hips swaying, into the tower.

She waited until her presence attracted the attention of the guards.

“Hello, boys,” she purred, her blades of obsidian appearing in her hands. “Care to dance?”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: No big changes here, just a few tweaks and a couple of extra scenes added for Pyrrha and Dove.

The Tower (Rewritten)

The Tower

Twilight had broken through the encryption moments before the shooting started.

She wished that she could take more credit for that, but the truth was that, without the computing power of the entire CCT at her disposal, she would never have been able to brute force her way through the security on the email that had outed Blake's past to Beacon and the world. Still, it had been her decryption programme, and it was her trace programme that started running immediately once the encryption was broken.

"Yes!" Twilight yelled, barely resisting the urge to leap out of her seat as a map of Remnant appeared on the monitor in front of her, and a blue trace-line began to depict for her the progress of that email backwards to its point of origin.

Whoever sent it was good. It wasn't just the encryption that was protecting their identity; it was the sheer number of places the mail bounced between. A less sophisticated trace might have been foxed by it. The passage was traced in reverse: it had been sent to every Beacon student and the VPD from the CCT here in Vale, the very tower in which Twilight sat; it had been sent to that tower from the Mistral CCT, and to there from Atlas, then back to Mistral, then Atlas again, then Vacuo, then back to Vale, bouncing off a few accounts in Vale that Twilight was 95% certain were bots or dummies, then Atlas, Mistral, more dummy accounts, Vale-

And that was when Twilight heard the shooting echoing up from below her.

Twilight was not a soldier by temperament or trade, but she had lived in the world of soldiers for all her life. Her father had reached Colonel by the time he retired, her brother was the commanding officer of the Council Guard, her family moved in the circles of officers and soldiers; two of her best friends were huntresses. Twilight wasn't a gun person, but she had spent enough time around gun people that she could identify several different types of weapon by the sound, and right now, the sound of multiple Atlesian assault rifles firing on fully automatic was unmistakable.

But how? Well, obviously, they were putting their fingers on the triggers and pulling back hard, so the question was more accurately why? Or, what? Why were they shooting, what were they shooting at? The White Fang? Had the White Fang gotten onto the campus? Nobody seemed to be shooting back. Grimm? Had the Creatures of Grimm gotten into Beacon?

Neither option was particularly promising. This was Beacon Academy, after all, a self-proclaimed light amidst the darkness; if their enemies had entered the fortress, then…

Then why was Twilight only hearing the firing now? If there were enemies rampaging across Beacon, then Twilight ought to have heard a lot more fighting than just shooting going on down below her in the tower. Localised fighting? A small scale attack? That… that made sense. The distance between the tower and the ballroom combined with the music from the dance would mean that nobody would hear the shooting in the tower, allowing time for the attackers, whoever they were, to do whatever they had come here to do.

Of course, that still didn’t explain exactly who these attackers might be-

Spike, sitting on Twilight’s lap, barked loudly, rousing her from futile – and, in the circumstances, somewhat pointless – speculation and bringing her back to the more important question of what, in the circumstances, she ought to do next.

Twilight glanced at the monitor, which was still depicting the progress of her trace on the source of that mail.

Twilight had seen more fighting than she had expected when she took this assignment, and she felt it was fair to say that it hadn’t gone very well so far, armour or no. The cyclops in the forest would have killed her if it hadn’t been for Pyrrha and Cinder; Adam would have killed her if it hadn’t been for Sunset and the fact that the threatened arrival of her friends had convinced him to withdraw. She had spent the train fight in the armoured carapace of a Paladin.

All of which was to say that the idea of summoning her armour to join the battle down below did not strike her as a wise one.

She had already proved that was not where her forte lay.

And there were much smarter courses open to her.

Twilight snatched her scroll off the worktop in front of her. It was running the tracing programme, but with a single swipe of one trembling finger, she opened up a new window. She opened up her address book, scrolling through the folders to the one labelled 'Friends' which contained five headshots within it.

Her hand didn't shake at all as she selected Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash was standing in the upper gallery, looking down at the dance floor below. In particular, her attention was focussed on Penny, who looked like she was making Ruby Rose a little bit dizzy as she whirled her around on the floor.

“I’m not entirely sure how much fun Ruby is having down there,” Sunset observed as she joined Rainbow at the balcony. “Do you think I ought to rescue her?”

Rainbow looked up to see that her fellow team leader was smirking. For her part, Rainbow didn't smile.

"Sometimes," she confessed, "I feel more like a mom than a team leader. Like I'm watching somebody grow up right in front of me, figuring themselves out as they go."

"She'll be doing well if she gets it right the first time," Sunset muttered. "Especially with you as a role model."

"Oh, that was feeble, even for you," Rainbow said. She frowned. "I'm watching her grow up, and I'm leading her into battle. What does that make me?"

Sunset leaned on the rail beside her. "The White Fang send children into battle, judging by Blake and some of the people she knows."

Rainbow frowned. "I don't know about you, Sunset, but I'd like to think that 'better than a bunch of murdering terrorists' is a bar I could clear pretty easily." Only, you know, maybe I can’t.

Maybe we – the whole of Atlas – haven’t. The memory of the brand on Adam’s face rose to the forefront of her memory. She hadn’t heard anything from Cadance about the progress of her investigation. Maybe there wasn’t any. Maybe the tracks had been covered too well, maybe the SDC was just untouchable. Maybe…

Rainbow dismissed the other possibility. Cadance had given her word; she was trying, no doubt about that.

She had warned Rainbow it might take a while.

“You okay?” Sunset asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You looked a little bit ill for a moment there,” Sunset said. “Something wrong with the punch?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “Just… a memory.”

Sunset nodded. “That face, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Because I try not to think about it either,” Sunset said. “It… makes it harder to remember we’re the good guys.”

“Tell me about it,” Rainbow muttered. She shook her head. “I’m going to go. Can you do me a favour and keep an eye on Penny for me? I would ask Ciel, but I don’t want to bother her when she’s got a date.”

“Oh, but you’re fine imposing on me?”

“Have you got anything better to do?” Rainbow demanded.

“Have you got anywhere better to be?”

“I’m going over to the tower to check on Twilight.”

“Ah,” Sunset murmured. She smiled. “Sure. I’ll keep an eye on Penny. You go.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow said. “And for the party too; you and Yang did a pretty good job. I mean, you’re no Pinkie Pie, but-”

“I’ll pretend you stopped at ‘thanks for the party,’” Sunset said. “Now get out of here.”

Rainbow grinned and turned to go. She was interrupted before she’d gone more than a couple of steps by the buzzing of her scroll. The vibrations sent shivers up her spine for a moment before she pulled her scroll out from the back of her waist and pulled it open.

Twilight's face confronted her. "Rainbow, I need you."

Rainbow straightened up. "Twi, what are you-?" She stopped as her equine ears pricked upwards visibly at the sounds she could hear coming out of her scroll. Sharp, rattling sounds, numerous and repeating. Sounds to make Rainbow's blood chill. "Twilight, is that gunfire?"

Twilight nodded. "Yes. I think the tower is under attack."

No. No, no, no, no! This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening? How the hell was this happening? It wasn’t even like the forest; Twilight was still at Beacon for crying out loud! She was in the CCT!

Get a grip. Calm down. Focus. You can’t help Twilight by Twilighting. Rainbow took a breath, and clamped down on her rising panic hard enough to think straight and ask the question, "What floor are you on?"

"Nine," Twilight said, just as the noise ceased. "The shooting has stopped."

Rainbow nodded. "Show me the room."

Twilight turned her scroll away and waved it around, giving Rainbow a panoramic view of the entire room.

"Okay," Rainbow said. "That bank of desks in the far right corner, near the window. Hide under there, don't move, don't make a sound; I'll come get you."

"Right," Twilight agreed, as she brought the scroll back around to show her face. She glanced away. "Someone's coming up the elevator."

"Hide, stay quiet, and don't panic," Rainbow snapped, sounding closer to panic herself than Twilight seemed. "I'm on my way!" She ended the call, and leapt off the upper gallery, landing heavily in the middle of the ballroom floor. "PENNY!" she yelled, causing her teammate to stop – holding Ruby up by the arms – and look her way.

"Come on, we've gotta roll!" Rainbow shouted, trusting Penny to follow her as she began to run for the exit, shoving people aside as she did so. "Come on, make a hole."

Rainbow kept her scroll out as she sprinted out of the ballroom; she tried to type as she ran, but she kept hitting the wrong keys on the display. She gritted her teeth as she skidded to a halt, halfway to the CCT already but still seeming so far away from Twilight and… Rainbow tried to keep from thinking about what might be going on in there, what might be happening to… no, don’t think about it, dammit, calm down! She typed in the coordinates to summon her locker.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow turned to see that Penny wasn’t the only one who had followed her out of the ballroom. Ciel was there too, and – a little more surprisingly – Ruby and Sunset, the former running in bare feet, having apparently discarded her high heels.

For herself, Rainbow was glad that she’d worn boots to the dance.

“What’s the situation?” Ciel demanded as the four of them closed the distance towards her.

“Twilight heard gunshots in the CCT, then the shooting stopped and someone started coming up the elevator,” Rainbow said. “I think she’s in trouble.”

“Understood,” Ciel said, pulling out her scroll. Sunset and Ruby did likewise.

“Why would anyone want to attack the CCT?” Ruby asked as she summoned her locker.

“Could be the White Fang, although I kinda hope not,” Sunset muttered. “If they can get in here whenever they want, it’s not good.”

“There is no positive in any hostile being able to breach the security of the campus,” Ciel said.

“We’ll find out who they are when we catch up to them,” Rainbow growled as her locker slammed into the ground in front of her, smashing the stones of the courtyard path before popping open to reveal her wings, guns, and anything else that she might want.

Rainbow tore a slit up the side of her skirt all the way to the top, so that she could move her legs more freely.

Rarity would totally understand when she found out.

The lockers of Sunset, Ruby, and Ciel arrived as Rainbow still was strapping the Wings of Harmony onto her back. Rainbow didn’t bother with telling them they didn’t have to come or any of that stuff; it wouldn’t have worked, and anyway, Twilight might need all the help she could get.

“You go on ahead,” Ciel said, and with a single deft tug, she pulled her entire skirt off, letting the fabric fall to the ground as she stood in a pair of tight running shorts beneath the overly elaborate bodice. “I’ll inform General Ironwood, and then we’ll follow.”

“Right,” Rainbow said, grabbing her belt with Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome holstered on it and clasping it around her waist.

“How did you-?” Sunset began.

“An Atlesian student is prepared for any eventuality, including that her garb may become suddenly unsuitable,” Ciel declared matter-of-factly. She pulled Distant Thunder out of its locker. “Acceptable at a dance, invaluable in a shipwreck.”

“Or a fight,” Rainbow muttered as she pulled on her goggles, tinting the whole world red as they covered her eyes.

“Is Twilight going to be okay?” Penny asked anxiously.

Rainbow looked into Penny’s wide eyes and forced herself to smile. “Of course she is. Twilight’s gonna be just fine. Because we’re going to save her.”

She turned away, kicking off the ground as the jetpack of her wing-suit propelled her off the cobbled stones and up into the air. Her wings extended, catching the currents of the cool night air as Rainbow soared upwards towards the ninth floor of the CCT.

Hold on, Twi. I’m on my way.

The elevator was creeping upwards towards her floor. Twilight half-rose from her seat, but stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, the monitor screen had caught her attention.

The trace programme had tracked the message as far as… Drachyra? The signal had been bounced off Drachyra? No, more than that; that was where the encryption had been picked up from. Twilight boggled, staring at the monitor as her eyes widened behind her glasses. This… this was impossible. Drachyra was a barren wasteland, wracked by storms and infested with grimm. Nobody lived there, and even if they did, there was no technology that would allow anyone to connect to the CCT network… was there?

There’s no way my programme could be wrong. Then… that means…

The signal had come to Drachyra from…Twilight watched as the blue trace line went right back to where it had started from, Beacon… from the scroll of…

An official photograph of a supremely confident young woman appeared on the monitor, smirking out at her. The name beside the picture was Cinder Fall.

Sunset’s friend. But… but Cinder helped save my life. She protected me in the forest! Why-?

Once more, she was roused by the sound of Spike barking loudly, looking at her and then shaking his head in the direction of the elevator shaft as if to say ‘hey, remember the emergency?’

“Right,” Twilight said. “Thanks, Spike.” Fight. Bad guy. Have to hide.

Twilight ran for the back of the room, leaving her scroll and, well, everything else behind her as she dived under the bank of desks nearest the window. She hunched down and covered her mouth with one hand as, with the other, she covered the mouth of her dog.

I’m really sorry about this, Spike, but we can’t make a sound until Rainbow Dash gets here.

Twilight waited, huddled under the bank of desks, breathing in and out through her nose.

I left my work on the monitor!

Whoever came up here would see it and know that she was here! There was no point in hiding at all! Twilight knew that she ought to get up, to go back, to grab her stuff and erase the evidence of her work, but… but she was afraid. She didn’t mind admitting that. It sounded like someone had just taken out all the guards, and now, they were on their way up here… to her.

She wasn’t brave enough to get out and show herself under those conditions. Her combat record wasn’t impressive enough, to say the least, to justify that kind of courage, especially not against someone who had torn through the soldiers down below. No, she should do as Rainbow said, and hide, and wait.

She couldn’t see anything beyond the desk under which she was hiding. The green light of the CCT monitors reflected off the polished floor. She was too low down to see much out of the windows but starlight.

Twilight couldn’t see the elevator, but she heard the click of heels upon the floor, and she heard the sultry voice of Cinder Fall echoing across the room.

“Really? Who?” Cinder was silent for a moment. Twilight guessed that she was talking to someone else. “And is there a good reason why you just let them leave?”

Rainbow Dash. She’s talking about Rainbow Dash and… someone else; Penny? Ciel? But then… that must mean that she has allies at the party, keeping watch.

Her teammates? Are they in on this too?

What is even going on here?

The only thing she knew for certain was that if this was Cinder Fall, if Cinder was her enemy, then she had made the right choice to try and stay hidden. She’d seen the way that Cinder fought, how she and Pyrrha had effortlessly dispatched the cyclops that had smashed its way through all of Twilight’s drones; even with her armour, she would have been screwed going up against Cinder and out of her mind to have tried it.

As Ciel had told her, there was no shame in shirking a pointless fight, with nothing of consequence riding upon the outcome.

“I see,” Cinder purred. “Never mind. I’ll deal with it.”

Twilight held her breath as she heard the clicking sound of the woman’s steps upon the floor.

It was definitely Cinder; Twilight hadn’t spent an enormous amount of time with her, and if it hadn’t been for that time spent together in the forest, she might not have been so sure, but they had spent that time together in the forest, and she did recognise Cinder’s voice.

“So, you figured it out. Clever, clever, Twilight Sparkle; you really are a talent.”

You’ve got someone pretty talented on your side too, Cinder.

Twilight could hear the woman working on the computer. Erasing Twilight’s work, probably. Or…no, there must be more to it than that, because she couldn’t have known that Twilight was here before she came here, could she? Twilight had only told her team; Penny was too innocent to betray Atlas – not to mention, she was watched too constantly for that – and Ciel would never even contemplate it.

Which meant that nobody had known Twilight was going to be here when they launched their attack. Which meant that-

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Cinder called. Twilight could hear more footsteps, but she couldn’t tell exactly where they were in relation to her hiding place.

She started to breathe through her nose before she passed out. Spike was starting to fuss and fret. She scratched behind his ears and hoped that he could understand that she wasn’t doing this to be cruel to him.

“Open your eyes, you have to get up,” the woman whispered in a sing-song voice.

“Monsters are coming to gobble you up.

Out of bed, hide under the floor,

The monsters are breaking down the door.”

It was a nursery rhyme. No, it was a hide-and-seek song. Or was it both? Twilight hadn’t exactly had friends to play hide-and-seek with. Was it a traditional thing? Was it Mistrali originally? The sort of thing that children got taught to tell them what to do when the grimm attacked, except it had gotten tamed in places where the grimm didn’t show themselves until the original meaning had been lost.

Except right now, hiding under a desk as a monster prowled the room searching for her, her footsteps echoing, Twilight felt she could understand the meaning of the original very, very well.

“Hide in the cupboard, are they near?

Monsters know how to smell your fear.”

Rainbow Dash where are you?

“You’ll hear the screams and then you’ll know:

Mommy and Daddy can’t help you now.”

The chair nearest Twilight was rudely shoved away, and a masked figure dressed in black loomed over, a cruel smirk disfiguring the smoothness of her face.

“Close your eyes, don’t look up,” she said.

“Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

Twilight yelped as she was grabbed by the neck and dragged out of her hiding place. She beat futilely at the other woman, but Cinder paid as much notice to her feeble blows as she would have paid to a gnat.

Twilight winced as she was slammed back-first into the wall. Spike barked furiously and leapt at Cinder, who half-turned before kicking him away. He flew across the room and hit the far wall with a yelp of pain.

“Spike!” Twilight cried, half a second before she was slammed into the nearest desk so hard that she smashed through the monitor with her face, breaking her glasses in the process. Twilight shrieked as the pain slashed at her through her aura.

“You should worry less about your dog and more about yourself,” Cinder said as she pulled Twilight up until the two of them were at eye level. Though her – now spectacle-less – view was a little blurry, Twilight could swear that Cinder looked like she was enjoying this.

Her smile, as best Twilight could tell, was hungry, and as sharp as a blade.

If… if she erased my work, and now she… how will my friends ever know who…who she really is?

Twilight gasped as Cinder began to squeeze her throat. No, it was more than just squeezing. Cinder’s hands were boiling hot, burning hot, they were burning through Twilight’s aura just through contact, just like the cyclops in the Emerald Forest.

Only this time, Twilight didn’t have her armour to shelter in as her aura began to drain away.

She groaned and moaned in pain, twitching and writhing in futile efforts to escape the unbearable heat.

“I didn’t plan on you being here,” Cinder declared, “but since you are here, I’m rather glad. After all, I just have to kill you, and then nobody will be any the wiser.” She chuckled. “You have no idea how much I’ve detested you, you spoiled little girl.” She squeezed Twilight’s head a little tighter. “You have no idea how hard or cold the world can be, because whenever its chill reaches you, you just take a step back and let someone else deal with it. That’s what you did tonight, isn’t it? You called on faithful Rainbow Dash to save you.” Cinder shook her head. “Well, if she gets here, I’ll kill her-”

The windows of the CCT were shattered by the impact of Rainbow Dash, wings outstretched, busting through them and into the room. She soared across the chamber, a wordless yell bursting out of her throat as she slammed one fist into Cinder’s cheek. The blow was hard enough to shatter Cinder’s grip on Twilight, who collapsed to the floor as Cinder herself was tossed backwards, smashing through a bank of desks, skidding backwards across the floor.

The Wings of Harmony folded back into the backpack as Rainbow Dash stood over Twilight like a mother bear, casting a shadow over her as long and as reassuring as an Atlesian cruiser.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Twilight,” Rainbow declared. “I’m right here.”

General Ironwood had heard Rainbow Dash bellow Penny’s name across the dancefloor – it was unlikely that there was anyone who had missed it – and he had seen the three members of Team RSPT leave the ballroom in a great hurry, accompanied by half of Team SAPR, while the other half – Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos – looked about as confused by it as the rest of the guests at tonight’s party.

Ironwood glanced at Ozpin. “Something I should know about?”

“I assure you, James, that I am just as in the dark as you are,” Ozpin replied. “Why don’t you try and discover what’s happening while I prevent the spread of unnecessary panic amongst the other students?”

Ironwood nodded, and he had already walked out of the ballroom – Ozpin, meanwhile, headed back inside – when his scroll began to buzz.

He tapped his earpiece to take the call audio only. “Dash?”

“It’s Soleil, sir.”

“Report.” Ironwood snapped.

“Twilight Sparkle reported gunfire from the lower levels of the CCT,” Ciel said, as calmly and as matter-of-factly as if she were reporting the weather. “Gunfire then ceased, but a possible assailant began to ascend in the elevator. Rainbow Dash has gone on ahead to secure Twilight Sparkle; myself, Cadet Polendina, and Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose of Beacon’s Team Sapphire will follow immediately.”

Ironwood bit back a curse. Someone was attacking the CCT? Under his very nose? And Twilight was in there! His goddaughter, the brightest mind that Atlas had produced in a generation, and she was in danger – again.

Nobody could have predicted that anyone would be able to infiltrate Beacon and overpower the guards. Not that his ignorance would save Twilight, nor excuse the loss of all that she might have done for Atlas over the course of her life otherwise.

And even that might be a small matter compared to the possibility that this had nothing to do with Twilight Sparkle at all. What if they knew what Ozpin was hiding in the vault underneath the tower? Had Amber’s assailant come back to finish the job? What if they knew about the relic? Ironwood didn’t know where exactly the Relic of Choice was – only Ozpin knew that; it was a secret even amongst the secrets of their organisation – but who knew what clues to its hiding place might be hidden in Ozpin’s office if somebody got up there?

Is it her? Is she making her play?

General Ironwood controlled his voice. There was no point in letting Soleil hear how concerned he was. “Good work, Soleil. I’ll try and raise the guard detail and summon reinforcements to support you. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Ironwood out,” Ironwood said. He tapped his earpiece again, ending the call from Soleil and enabling voice-activated contact. “Lieutenant Reynolds, this is General Ironwood, status report.”

There was no response.

Ironwood’s feet carried him, almost subconsciously, towards the tower.

“Lieutenant, this is General Ironwood, please respond.” No answer. “Sergeant Barnes, do you copy?”

Ironwood scowled. “Schnee.”

There was a momentary pause before Winter Schnee’s voice came over the line. “Sir.”

“The CCT has come under attack. Load up three Skygraspers with marines and meet me outside the tower ASAP.”

“Understood, sir. Do you want me to alert the Vale authorities?”

“We’ll deal with that when the situation is contained; for now, double time it. Twilight Sparkle’s in the tower.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wonderbolt Lead,” Ironwood said, ending his call to Winter and speaking a new contact name.

“Spitfire, reading you loud and clear, General,” The squadron leader of the Wonderbolts, known by the callsign Spitfire, came on the line.

“Prep your team for ground action and rendezvous with me outside the CCT on the double; shots fired, situation unknown.”

“Copy that, sir. Wonderbolts inbound.”

Ironwood began to reach into his jacket for the pistol he always kept concealed in a shoulder holster. He was interrupted by another message.

“Ironwood.”

“Soleil reporting, sir. We’ve arrived at the CCT; all guards have been neutralised.”

“Dead?”

“Unknown, sir; we haven’t made a comprehensive-”

“Don’t bother; securing Twilight is your top priority,” Ironwood said.

“Yes, sir.”

The sharp rattle of gunfire began to sound in Ironwood’s earpiece. “Soleil!”

“Coming from above us, sir.”

Rainbow Dash. “Hurry, Soleil.”

“Yes sir!”

Ruby pressed the elevator button repeatedly, prodding it over and over again as if it was going to make the lift come down any faster. And as she pressed, she was muttering inaudible encouragement to it, or perhaps she was just upset that it wasn’t moving fast enough.

Sunset left her to it. If she wanted to do something other than nothing, then let her. Even if it wasn’t going to make the elevator come down any faster, then it wasn’t going to make it move any slower either.

And it meant that she didn’t have to look at the bodies of the Atlesian soldiers scattered around the atrium of the tower.

Sunset didn’t know if they were all dead. Since General Ironwood had given them the clear not to waste time checking every one, nobody really wanted to spend any time checking any of them. So Sunset didn’t know if they were all dead, but she did know that at least some of them were. You didn’t get up again from having your neck twisted into that angle, and if you weren’t crying out from a stab wound like that, you weren’t going to cry out ever again.

The atrium was riddled with bullet holes, but so far as Sunset could tell, none of the Atlesian troops had been shot. There were some blade wounds, but no gunshots that she could see. Which meant that the Atlesians must have missed a lot of shots. Which meant that whoever they were up against was very good. Agile, fast, able to dodge like a fiend.

Sunset wished that she’d worn gloves; she was starting to sweat just a little bit.

Come on, where’s that elevator?

Ciel was standing over one of the fallen Atlesian soldiers, one of the ones they were sure was dead. Her head was bowed, and her eyes were closed. Was she praying? Religion wasn’t a big thing in Remnant, and certainly not something Sunset would have expected to see from an Atlesian.

“And now I vow to take up your struggle,” Ciel murmured. “Until the final victory is achieved or I join you in the green fields beyond the mud and blood in which we live. Through your sacrifice shall the kingdom prosper and our enemies fail.”

“I… I don’t understand,” Penny said, as she looked around at the fallen all around her. “Why… who would do something like this?”

Ruby looked at her. “I… I don’t know exactly who’s responsible for this, Penny. Not yet, anyway. But… there are a lot of bad people in the world who just don’t care about life, who fight and kill because they can. They’re… they’re worse than the grimm because they know that what they’re doing is wrong, but they do it anyway. And that’s why we have to fight them. That’s why we have to fight them with everything we have, because it’s the only way we can protect our friends.”

“But why?” Penny repeated. “Why would anyone deliberately do something that they know is wrong?”

Ruby sighed. “I really wish I had an answer for you, Penny, but I don’t. I don’t think anybody does.

“Their motives are irrelevant,” Ciel declared. She opened her eyes, but her expression remained grimly set. “They are the darkness, no less than the creatures of grimm. They are the darkness, and we are the light that will burn them into nothingness.”

One of the elevators finally began to descend down towards them.

“I don’t think we can always understand why people do what they do, Penny,” Ruby said. “Sometimes, all we can do is stop them before they hurt anyone else.”

Rainbow broke through the windows, shards of glass bouncing off her goggles and getting stuck in her hair. She roared in anger as she swept into the room like an avenging angel because no one, but no one, but no one treated her friend like that and got away with it.

She was moving so fast that even with her shout, she still blindsided her opponent, a single woman in a black catsuit, catching her with a blow that knocked her across the room and, more importantly, got her to let go of Twilight.

As Rainbow’s opponent recovered her footing, Twilight collapsed onto the floor next to Rainbow Dash. Rainbow glanced down at her. Her glasses were gone – smashed probably – and there was a terrified look in those purple eyes.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Twilight; I’m right here,” Rainbow said. She paused. “Did she hurt you?”

Twilight shook her head. “My aura didn’t break.”

Rainbow couldn’t restrain the sigh of relief, any more than she could restrain the murderous glare that she shot towards Catsuit Girl, who just stood there looking down at them both with an infuriating smirk on her face.

“Cinder,” Twilight murmured. “It’s Cinder Fall.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. Sunset’s friend? What the hell? “Is that right?” she muttered. “Twi, Ciel and Penny are coming up in the elevator; when the doors open, run for them, okay?”

Twilight swallowed and nodded her head. “Okay.”

Rainbow focussed all her attention upon Cinder “You want to play rough?” she asked. “You want to play with someone who knows how to punch back?”

The smirk on Cinder’s face didn’t waver for an instant.

Rainbow reached for her machine pistols, Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome filling her hands as she swept the weapons up, pointed them at Cinder, and squeezed the triggers. Both guns blazed, muzzles flashing, cartridge casings falling to the floor at her feet.

Cinder didn’t dodge. She raised both her hands before her, and the bullets slammed harmlessly into… what?

A shield? Never seen her do that before.

Not surprising she’d hold out on us.

Rainbow let her empty guns fall to the ground. Guess I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Slowly, Cinder produced a capsule and flicked the cap off and onto the floor.

She waved her arm in a wide arc before her, spreading dust out from the capsule like seeds on a farm or something. The dust solidified a moment later, transforming into a wave of glass daggers that flew straight for Rainbow Dash.

“Twilight, stay down!” Rainbow snapped as she leapt forward and rolled beneath the wave of glass which passed, harmlessly, over her head. Rainbow rose right in Cinder’s face, throwing a right hook.

Cinder blocked. She grabbed Rainbow’s wrist, twisted-

Rainbow head-butted her in the face. Once, twice, three times, and the obsidian mask she was wearing shattered with a crunch, and that smirk on her face wasn’t looking quite so smug any more, was it?

Rainbow threw another punch with her free hand.

Cinder caught her fist in her open palm.

And now it was Rainbow’s turn to smirk as she let Cinder have it with an aura boom, turning her aura outwards with a blast like a cannon that, sure, burned through thirty percent of Rainbow’s aura in one hit but was totally worth it for the way it sent Cinder flying backwards, smashing through two banks of desks and chairs before she skidded to a halt.

Rainbow charged, trailing a rainbow behind her as she ran with all the speed of her semblance to bull rush Cinder before she could recover. Rainbow yelled wordlessly as she carried Cinder into the far wall and slammed her into it so hard she made a dent.

Don’t. Hurt. My. Friends!

Rainbow got a clean punch in on Cinder’s face. Cinder dodged the second punch, but Rainbow converted it into an elbow strike. She swung again.

Cinder managed to evade the blow and catch her arm in a lock. Rainbow struggled as Cinder spun her around, got her hand on Rainbow’s neck, slammed her into the wall, and then threw her away. Rainbow landed on her feet but with her back to-

“Look out!” Twilight yelled.

Rainbow wasn’t able to avoid all the arrows; one of them hit her, shattering or exploding or something that hurt like hell and felt like it had taken another chunk out of her aura with it. She didn’t know exactly how much she had left. She certainly didn’t have time to check.

Cinder leapt into the air, hovering there for a moment as twin blades of black obsidian formed in her hands out of dust crystals. Then she descended like a hawk.

Rainbow dodged her initial swings. She kicked, but Cinder took it on her arm. Cinder slashed again, and Rainbow had to block at a cost in aura. Rainbow swung at her. That damn smirk was back again as Cinder ducked under the punch and threw one of her swords into the air.

The sword spun once as Cinder grabbed Rainbow’s arm.

Again? Dammit!

The sword spun a second time as Cinder threw Rainbow over her shoulder and onto her back.

The sword spun a third time as Cinder caught it, reversed it, and brought it downwards, point first.

Rainbow caught the blade between her palms, then kicked upwards off the ground.

Cinder was still smiling. Rainbow was really starting to hate it.

She raised her fists. Cinder raised her blades in a high guard.

They charged at one another. Rainbow swung her fists and lashed out with her legs in high sweeping kicks, and Cinder ducked and dived and leapt away from them before slashing with her twin blades which Rainbow also sought to avoid. She was probably taking something off Cinder’s aura, but she was also getting her own sliced away in the process; she could feel that, even if she couldn’t gauge the exact amount. She risked another aura boom, knocking Cinder backwards at the cost of another chunk of her own aura in turn.

Rainbow panted slightly.

She has to be close to the limit if I am.

I just wish she’d stop smirking.

If Cinder was fazed at all by what Rainbow had done, she didn’t show it. She combined her two swords at the pommels, forming a bow. A trio of arrows formed out of dust. She aimed squarely at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow wasn’t fazed; she could dodge those-

Cinder’s smile broadened as she switched aim to Twilight, still lying on the floor, and let fly.

And Rainbow did the only thing she could.

She leapt into the path of the arrows.

“No!” Twilight yelled as the arrows exploded. Rainbow cried out in pain as her aura broke, the magenta field rippling over her body as she lost all protection from the flames and shards of glass. She hit the floor with a thud and the clank of her wings, her arms and side aching. She could feel blood, warm and sticky, starting to run. Not a lot of it, but she could feel it anyway. She groaned as she tried to get to her feet.

“Stay down, like a good dog,” Cinder said, as she planted a foot on Rainbow’s chest and pressed down, driving Rainbow back onto the floor. She cocked her head to one side. “Flower of the north,” she murmured, as her black swords reformed in her hands. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that the tallest flowers get cut down?”

“No!” Twilight shrieked, getting up and starting to run towards them as though… Rainbow didn’t know what she was thinking.

Cinder ignored her, looking down on Rainbow Dash as she raised her blades.

A green laser blast forced Cinder to leap hurriedly out of the way as Penny, Ciel, Ruby, and Sunset emerged from the elevator.

Penny’s swords formed a halo around her head. “Get away from my friends!”

Cinder’s ever-present smirk faltered; in fact, she looked downright irritated for a moment. Her smirk turned into a scowl as she raised her swords.

Laser beams leapt from Penny’s blades, the green pulses flying straight and true towards Cinder. Cinder’s swords shattered in her hands, breaking apart into fragments of glass which she flung outwards before herself, the ambient light in the room reflecting off the shards of glass like… like mirrors.

Mirrors off which Penny’s laser beams were reflected, rebounding in all directions, up into the ceiling, down onto the floor, back at Penny and the others. Sunset flung out one hand, a shield as green as Penny’s lasers forming in front of the group on which the blast dissipated harmlessly, but by then, Cinder had already turned and ran, crossing the room without further opposition, leaping out of the broken window pane and into the empty air.

Sunset rushed to the shattered window, ignoring Rainbow Dash and Twilight for a moment, ignoring the crunch of glass shards underfoot because all she could concentrate on was that this was Cinder, Cinder who had attacked the CCT and tried to kill Twilight.

It was Cinder who had betrayed them all.

Sunset could hardly believe it. She’d seen it with her own eyes, that face, that smile, but she could still… still hardly believe it.

I thought that you were like me. I thought that we were kindred spirits.

I thought that we were friends.

She had thought that they were so alike… was Cinder that good a liar, or was Sunset such a poor judge of character?

Sunset didn’t know the answer to that, but she did know, as she watched Cinder fly – fly! – from the ninth floor down towards the ground, that she wanted answers.

And so she teleported, leaving Ruby and RSPT behind to appear in a burst of green light directly in front of Cinder as she landed before the tower.

“You’re not getting away so easy,” Sunset growled as she raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and pointed it squarely at Cinder.

Cinder smiled. “Hello, Sunset.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I did wonder why you weren’t at the dance,” she said, “but you seem to have made your own amusement.”

“Well, I did also tell you that I was planning to have some real fun.”

Sunset bared her teeth. “Why, Cinder? Why have you done this?”

“Why?” Cinder asked, and she sounded almost surprised. “I thought that you of all people would understand, if anyone could understand. We’re so alike, after all, you and I.”

Sunset swallowed and tried to avoid the dry, brackish sensation in her mouth. “I’m not so sure of that any more.”

Cinder laughed. “Oh, Sunset. Just because you’ve found out that I’ve been lying about certain superficial details of my allegiance, as though you’ve never done the same. It doesn’t change who I am inside. It doesn’t change the similarity between our hearts. It doesn’t change that you and I are the same thing: monsters.”

Sunset shook her head. “No. I’m not-”

“I feel it,” Cinder hissed. “Inside you, calling to me, waiting to be unleashed. Let it out, Sunset. Embrace who you really are. I can show you, if you like.” She held out one hand. “Let me help you, the way that somebody once helped-”

Sunset fired, squeezing the trigger of Sol Invictus as fire roared from the barrel of her rifle.

Cinder raised her hand and blocked the round effortlessly. “Now was that really necessary? I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

“I know who I am,” Sunset growled, using her anger to mask her uncertainty. “And if you are my enemy, if you have always been my enemy, then I’m not going to just let you walk away.”

Cinder smiled. “Do you think you can defeat me, Sunset Shimmer?”

“I know I’m going to try.”

Twin swords sprang into existence in Cinder’s hands as she forged them out of dust. “Very well. I’m very sorry that things have come to this. I had hoped… but, as you well know, destiny cannot be avoided. Come then, Sunset Shimmer, and let fate decide which of us to crown in glory!”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Again, no major changes this time around, this chapter remains both as it was and a lynchpin of the entire story.
One minor change, Cinder using her glass like mirrors to redirect Penny's laser fire, I have to credit to RuleroftheValaxy on AO3, who wrote me a delightful Sunset/Cinder one-shot - Red and Gold, which I advise you to check out- which opened my eyes to whole new ways that Cinder could fight.

Little Ashes (Rewritten)

Little Ashes

Sunset parried Cinder’s stroke with the stock of Sol Invictus, but the force behind the blow was enough to push her backwards. Her platform shoes scraped against the ground as she skidded backwards.

Sunset countered, lashing out with the rifle-butt like a club aimed at Cinder’s head. Cinder ducked. Sunset let go of the rifle with one hand and loosed a beam of emerald energy from the palm of her hand. It struck the courtyard stone in a shower of debris as Cinder leapt athletically away, doing a backflip before landing gracefully on her feet.

“You know, I really envy you at times,” Cinder murmured.

Sunset reversed her rifle so that she could once more use it as a gun. With one hand, she felt along the wooden stock until her fingers made out the scar that Cinder had made in the wood. “I thought you envied me all the time?”

Cinder smirked. A chuckle rose from her lips. “Oh, I do, of course. Every day, every waking moment, I am consumed with envy. But sometimes, such as now, I confess that I am… particularly envious.”

“'Particularly'?” Sunset repeated. “Why’s that?”

“Because you can use your magic freely, and nobody cares,” Cinder declared, in a tone so casual as to almost be offhand.

Sunset felt a chill feeling run down her spine, which was funny, because at the exact same moment, sweat started to trickle down her arms. “What are you talking about?”

Cinder’s laughter was cold. “Come now, Sunset; we’re all alone in the night out here, with no one but the stars to hear our darkest secrets. You don’t have to pretend or pass your talents off as a semblance. We’re both initiated into the higher mysteries. What you do is magic, and I’m guessing that you’ve had it for some time, considering you’re so much better at it than you are with any of your other skills.” She chuckled. “No offence intended, of course.” She began to circle Sunset, like a wolf circling the flock in the dead of night. She pointed one of her black blades at her opponent. “So my question to you is… where did you get it?”

“I was born with it,” Sunset growled. “My question to you is how do you know about magic, and why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“That’s two questions, but I’ll answer anyway, even though you didn’t really answer mine,” Cinder said. “Because I’m… a classy lady.” She laughed softly. “I know about magic because I know everything. My mistress told me all before she sent me out into the world to do her bidding. But she didn’t tell me about anyone quite like you.”

Sunset grinned. “Guess she didn’t quite tell you everything then, did she?”

“I know more than you could comprehend,” Cinder insisted. “Sunset, please, listen to me. There is more at stake here than you know. However clearly you think you see, I promise, you are blind to the truth. Professor Ozpin has made you blind and keeps you so; he will put out your eyes if you allow it. If you follow him, he will lead you into the abyss.”

“I am no one’s blind follower!” Sunset snapped.

“Are you not?” Cinder asked, sniffing. “Then prove it.”

“How?” Sunset demanded. “By joining you?”

“Why not?” Cinder replied “The world is changing, Sunset. There’s an east wind coming that will sweep away everything that all these people have ever known. Only those who are strong enough to survive, only those who deserve to survive will be spared when the storm breaks. Join me, Sunset. Prove that you are worthy of survival, as I already know you are.”

“And what if I do?” Sunset said. “What happens to Pyrrha? What happens to Ruby? What happens to Jaune or Blake, what happens to any of them?”

Cinder’s smile was positively vicious. “As I said: only those who deserve to survive.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Sunset muttered. “If you expect me to take a deal like that, then you don’t really respect me at all, do you?”

“I respect your intelligence.”

“But not my integrity.”

Cinder laughed. “Creatures like us don’t have integrity, Sunset; it’s a luxury we can’t afford. We do whatever we have to do to survive, to thrive, to achieve our dreams.”

“I’m nothing like you!” Sunset lied, because she was a lot more like Cinder than she would have cared to admit.

She had a feeling – call it a hunch – that the next words to come dripping out of Cinder’s mouth would be to point out exactly how much of a lie that was, how alike she and Sunset were, and so Sunset forestalled that by firing the last two bullets in her rifle’s cylinder.

Cinder blocked them, somehow, again, but in that moment of distraction when she was doing that, Sunset had teleported right in front of her and hit her across the face with the stock of her rifle.

Cinder staggered backwards; Sunset pursued. Sunset swung again; Cinder parried with her obsidian blades, swept Sunset’s guard away, and slashed across her midriff. It was Sunset’s turn to retreat and Cinder’s to pursue, black blades swinging.

“Is this all there is?” Sunset demanded as Cinder battered her strokes against her guard like the waves beating upon the shore. “You betrayed the whole world, and for what? Because you think you’re better than everybody else? Is that really all there is?” At least the White Fang have a cause.

“What more is there, in the end?” Cinder shouted, and she threatened to slip a stroke through Sunset’s guard.

Sunset fended her off with a beam of magic that threw her off her stride, even if she was able to evade it. “A reason?” Sunset suggested. “What are you hoping to get from this? What’s going on? I just want to know why.”

“Why? If you’re not going to join me, then what does it matter?” Cinder demanded. She slashed; Sunset pirouetted out of the way and countered with a sideways blow, which Cinder ducked to get under Sunset’s guard. Sunset retreated, parrying before countering with a thrust of her bayonet.

“Because I want to know why you ended up this way,” Sunset said. I want to know how far you’ve gone and how close I was to becoming just like you. I want to know… I want to know how someone so charming, how someone who won me over so completely, how someone I could care so much about so quickly, could come to this. “If you tell me why, then maybe I can help you!”

“I don’t need your help!” Cinder yelled. Her blades clashed against Sunset’s rifle, glass sword scoring the wood as Sunset twirled her weapon to strike with butt and blade intermittently. “I don’t need help from anyone!” She swept Sol Invictus out of Sunset’s hands to land in one of the flowerbeds. “I am about to change this world!”

Cinder thrust straight at Sunset.

“But why?” Sunset repeated, as she turned and leaned out of the path of Cinder’s oncoming blade. And as the blade swept past and Cinder’s momentum carried her forwards, Sunset reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

In that moment, she was filled with a desire to know, to understand what could drive Cinder Fall, the person she’d trusted, the person she’d fought beside, the person who had seemed so like herself in so many ways, to turn against the kingdoms for reasons that couldn’t possibly be so nebulous as she was making them seem. Sunset wanted to know – she needed to know – what had produced someone who was so like Sunset but who revelled in describing herself as a monster. She wanted to know – she needed to know – if they were really as alike as Sunset had thought and Cinder was making out. She wanted to know – she needed to know – if she could have turned out like Cinder seemed to be.

She wanted to know. She needed to know. She was filled with a desire to know that burned within her, and so, as Sunset’s hand closed around Cinder’s wrist, she felt something spark within herself, and then a feeling like ten thousand volts running down her arm. Sunset’s head jerked backwards; her eyes widened as they were filled with pure light, brilliant white light consuming the night sky and the high towers of Beacon and anything else that she could see. There was nothing but the light, no sound but a high pitched whistling in her ears, no sensations but the electric feeling rushing down her arm and then…

And then…

Then Sunset saw.

“What’s that place, Momma?”

Sunset saw a young Cinder Fall – she saw things, but she also understood things instinctually, as if she’d seen all of this before – a mere child, who barely went up to the knee of the woman holding her hand as they walked down the Argus street. Not just any woman. Cinder’s mother.

She – the mother – was wearing the uniform of an Atlesian officer. She’d been stationed at the base in Argus; she’d fallen in love with a local man, a Mistralian; Cinder was the result.

Cinder’s mother looked at where she was pointing, to the grand, old-fashioned building nestling behind a pair of wrought-iron gates at the end of the street. She knelt down beside her daughter. “That is Sanctum Combat School; it’s where the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses start their training.”

“Could I go there and become a huntress too one day?”

Cinder’s mother chuckled. “If you still want to.” She kissed young Cinder on the forehead. “You can be whatever you want to be in this world, muffin.”

“Really? I can be anything?”

“Anything at all,” Cinder’s mother said. “And I can’t wait to see what you decide to do with your life.”

“Daddy, where’s Momma?” Cinder asked. “When is she coming home?”

Cinder’s father was a tall, well-dressed Mistralian man, who had the dark hair and amber eyes that his daughter had inherited. He sat at a writing desk, side-on to his daughter, and he didn’t look down at her, even as she stood looking up at his face, desperate for answers.

His whole body seemed to shudder, and as Sunset watched, he gripped the pen in his hand especially tightly.

Cinder’s mother was dead. Sunset knew that, even if the little girl who was asking where she was didn’t. Whether it was because of some especial understanding or because she knew how these stories went, Sunset wasn’t entirely sure, but she knew. She knew in the same way that she knew this man at the desk was Cinder’s father, that this Argus townhouse that might have looked elegant and comfortable if the lights hadn’t been turned out to shroud so much of it in darkness was her home.

“Daddy?” Cinder repeated. “Daddy, where’s Momma?”

Her father’s head bowed. “Ashley… your mother…”

Ashley. That was her name. Cinder’s name, or at least the name she used to have. Ashley Little-Glassman, because her mother had decided to hyphenate her name, and her father had agreed to it being passed on to their daughter. Thinking that… it gave Sunset a headache just to think about it, as if the fact of Cinder’s old name was physically painful.

Painful to her. To Cinder. Part of a past that she would rather forget if she could.

“Ashley,” her father repeated. “Your mother… she’s gone.”

Cinder – Ashley, but Sunset found it easier to think of her by the name she knew – blinked in confusion. “'Gone'? What do you mean, gone? Where did she go, Daddy?”

“I don’t know,” her father said. He put his head in his hands, and Sunset could see that there were tears running down his face. “I don’t know; I only know that…that we’re never going to see her again.”

Sunset had known that it was coming, but that didn’t stop it from hitting her like a punch to the gut when it arrived. It felt as though she’d lost her own mother, except that Sunset had never known her own mother, and so, she’d never had any need to mourn for her. Except now, faced with the death of Cinder’s mother, she could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

This was a woman that she’d only seen once, in somebody else’s memory. She didn’t know her at all, she had no idea what kind of a mother she’d been, she knew nothing about her as a person, and yet, here she was, about to weep for her, feeling the loss of her as though she’d been told that Princess Celestia had passed away in Equestria during her absence. She felt emptiness inside of her, an absence that might never go away.

Why was she feeling like this? Was this… was this how Cinder had felt?

Cinder’s eyes were wide, and she stared at her father in silence, as the gloomy darkness that had already claimed so much of the house closed in around her, until the only light was a small patch around young Cinder herself, with no source that Sunset could discern.

And then even that light was snuffed out, and everything was plunged into darkness.

It rained during the funeral. Her mother was buried with full military honours; a section of Atlesian soldiers in tall hats fired a three-round salute, and afterwards, the commanding officer – a stern-faced woman whose hair was starting to turn grey – folded up the Atlesian flag and presented it to Cinder.

As though a rag torn from a pole was a reasonable substitute for a mother and her love.

She hated that flag. She hated that flag and everything it stood for. As far as she was concerned, that flag – and the Atlesian military who upheld it – were the ones who took her mother away.

“Ashley, I have something to tell you,” her father said, as he knelt down before her. Cinder looked a little taller, but she couldn’t have been very much older because – slight increase in her height aside – she still looked like an adorable little kid. “We’re leaving Argus and going back to my home in Mistral.”

“Leaving? You mean… for good?”

“Yes,” her father said. “I… I can’t stay here after… I know that things haven’t been perfect since… but they’ll get better, I promise. Once we get to Mistral, we can start over again.”

Cinder hadn’t been too sorry to say goodbye to Argus. Sunset wasn’t entirely sure how she knew that, but her best guess was that she was connected to Cinder’s thoughts somehow. It was as though when she had touched Cinder’s arm, she’d been able to read her memories. Was this her semblance? Was she a touch telepath?

No, or not entirely, anyway. She wasn’t just reading Cinder’s thoughts, or even seeing them. She was no detached observer in this place. She had felt Cinder’s grief for the loss of her mother as raw as if it were her own. She had felt her anger and her rage at Atlas for taking her mother from her. And now, she felt Cinder’s loneliness. She hadn’t been sad to leave Argus because there was nothing there for her. She hadn’t had any friends there. She kept to herself, and the other children avoided her. That was a feeling that Sunset knew well enough: reading in the corner of the playground when everyone else was fooling around, convincing yourself that they were wasting their lives while you were making the most of your time because it made you feel a little better; listening to their conversations and wishing that you understood so that you could join them; convincing yourself that the one person in the world who loved you was the only one you needed.

And sometimes, that was all that you needed. As Sunset watched memories of Cinder’s father teaching her how to shoot with a bow, how to fight with two swords the way he said her mother had – Cinder was always using wooden swords at her age – as she watched the way that her father would buy Cinder these glass figurines, these little animals until she had a whole menagerie of them on the shelves of her bedroom wall; as she watched the way she’d run eagerly to him when he came home… as she watched all of that, Sunset was once more reminded uncomfortably of herself. She was reminded of the way, whenever Princess Celestia had to travel to Manehatten or Baltimare or somewhere like that, Sunset would count the days until she came home again, make sure that she was there, one of the first people to greet the princess on her return. She was reminded of the way that they’d sit on the throw rug in front of the fire with hot chocolate as Princess Celestia would explain this or that principle of magic to her. She was reminded of the way she always felt so warm, so safe, so loved in the princess’ presence. She was reminded of the softness of Celestia’s coat when they nuzzled one another.

Sometimes, that one person who loved you was all that you needed to get by in life and be happy… but unfortunately, it was rarely possible to stay that way for long.

“Ashley, I want you to meet Lady Clytemnestra Kommenos,” Cinder’s father said, as he presented this woman to his daughter. “She and I are going to be married this fall.”

From Sunset’s perspective, Lady Kommenos seemed to be cut very much from the same cloth as Pyrrha’s mother; they didn’t look alike, but in their carriage and bearing – not to mention the fine quality of their attire – they were very much of a type: proud old women with more ancestors than they had money, and they had a lot of money. Lady Kommenos, it turned out, had two daughters of her own: Philonoe and Phoebe.

Phoebe? Phoebe Kommenos, and didn’t Lady Nikos refer to a Lady Kommenos? Phoebe is Cinder’s stepsister?

The look of the two girls was right: the young Phoebe in Cinder’s memories had eyes as dark as night and hair of spun gold, just like Phoebe’s roots when the dye started to wear off; she wore her hair in curls, long ringlets falling on either side of her face.

They kept that quiet, didn’t they?

No. No, it was more than that. It wasn’t just that they were pretending not to recognise one another when their paths happened to cross. Cinder had frozen up outside the ice cream parlour, and that hadn’t been an act, Sunset would bet Soteria on it.

Cinder had been terrified then.

As she was terrified now. Sunset could feel the fear, the anger – she could feel it – she felt angry and afraid herself. She wanted to fight and flee at the same time, and Phoebe was the cause.

Sunset wasn’t sure that she wanted to find out why.

“I want you to try and make friends with your stepsisters,” her father told her. “It isn’t right for you to be so alone.”

“I’m not alone, Daddy,” Cinder said. “I have you.”

Her father had smiled at her. “I know you do, my sweet, but I’d like for you to have friends your own age. Will you try, for my sake?”

Cinder nodded. “I’ll try, Daddy, I promise.”

Unfortunately, Phoebe and Philonoe were not greatly interested in being friends with their lonely stepsister. Phoebe dreamed of being a great huntress, aided by the finest weapons and armour that her mother and stepfather could buy for her, and she delighted in using her stepsister as a training dummy. Philonoe was more feminine, which only meant that she preferred to hurt her stepsister with words rather than with blows. On one particular night, after seven year-old Phoebe came home grievously upset because a young prodigy two years her junior – a certain Pyrrha Nikos – had beaten her handily in the Junior Tournament, she had taken it out on Cinder so badly that even her father had noticed the results.

For the most part, however, her father’s presence prevented the Kommenos girls from going too far, and when he and his daughter were together, things were as they had been before, and if the days of happiness were more intermittent, at least Cinder could be happy with the one person in the world who cared for her.

And then Cinder’s father died, and whatever troubles Cinder had felt before were shown to be mere prologue to the misfortunes that now descended upon her head.

“Stop it!” Cinder shrieked, as Phoebe and Philonoe gleefully smashed all of her glass animals, tearing the fragile ornaments from the shelves to smash to shards and splinters on the floor. Any pieces that survived the fall in recognisable fashion, Phoebe stamped upon until they were as broken as the rest. “Stop. Please stop.”

They did not stop. They didn’t even hesitate. Cats and dogs, horses and camels, elephants and tigers, they were all hurled down to the floor as though they had incurred the wrath of the gods.

They were so fragile. As frail as human lives. And like those lives, they were destroyed.

Sunset felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she watched Cinder’s collection, lovingly built up with gifts from her father, destroyed by her stepsisters for no other reason than because they could.

“Please,” Cinder pleaded, lunging towards Phoebe, grabbing her by the arm. “Please don’t; they’re all-”

Phoebe grabbed Cinder by the neck, and Sunset found herself recoiling in fear as Cinder was slammed into the wall.

“Don’t touch me again,” Phoebe snarled into Cinder’s face. “You know what will happen if you do, don’t you?”

Cinder whimpered, and sobbed and nodded frantically. Even Philonoe looked a little discomforted.

Phoebe smirked and released Cinder, who shrank to the ground in the corner of the room, huddling beneath the shelter of her frail arms as her beautiful menagerie was turned to broken glass.

And then, when the stepsisters' sport was done, they made her clean the debris off the floor.

Sunset could feel everything. She felt the confusion when she was stripped of her room and clothes and dressed in rags to work as a servant in her own house, the fury when she went out into the garden and screamed into the night because her parents had promised, they’d promised that they wouldn’t leave her, so where were they? Mother said that she wanted to see what Cinder did with her life, Father had promised that things would get better, but they’d just gotten so much worse, and they’d left her! Her own parents had abandoned her to the mercies of these people! She hated them. She hated all of them; she hated Phoebe and Philonoe and Lady Kommenos who made her do all the work around the house, and she hated mother and her father too for leaving her.

Sunset could feel all of it. The hate, the rage, the desire to get back at each and every one of them coursing through her, burning away at her childhood kindness. She felt the brooding anger that accompanied each slight, the deadening sensation that came from trying to cope with a constant stream of insults and abuse, the ever-present brooding melancholy that consumed her. She felt everything that was done to Cinder as though it had been done to herself: the humiliation, the degradation, the way her home became a prison with the added insult that she was responsible for maintaining it.

“-never been so humiliated in all my life!” Lady Kommenos cried. “Lady Nikos practically laughed in my face!”

Phoebe looked down in shame. “It’s not my fault, Mother.”

“Of course it’s your fault, you stupid girl!” Lady Kommenos shouted. “Pyrrha made a laughingstock out of you. You couldn’t even land a single blow on her!”

“She’s cheating!” Phoebe snapped. “I know she is; I just don’t-”

Lady Kommenos’ hand struck swift and hard, slapping Phoebe across the face, twisting her head sharply.

“Enough!” Lady Kommenos snapped. “Do you have any idea how ludicrous you sound when you make such accusations? You make yourself seem not only useless, but a sore loser too. If all the money I spend on your training and equipment cannot deliver victory, then you could at least seek to impress the crowds with your grace and bearing in defeat!”

As she scrubbed the floor in that room, Cinder felt – and Sunset felt it too – a touch of well-deserved schadenfreude at Phoebe’s humiliation.

Unfortunately, she made the mistake of snorting loud enough for Phoebe to hear her.

And the look in Phoebe’s eye as she looked at Cinder drove all pleasure from Cinder’s heart completely.

Cinder shivered, and Sunset shivered too. She was afraid. She was terribly, terribly afraid. The room was dark, and Sunset felt as though there was a monster in there with them, out of sight, waiting, prowling. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She did not dare. Her legs – her whole body – was frozen in place.

She was hiding in one of the pantry cupboards, in the dark, her body contorted to fit in that small space. She covered her mouth with both hands, even as her eyes welled up.

She didn’t want to risk any sound getting out.

“Cinder?” Phoebe called in a sing-song voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are?”

Cinder didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound, because there was a monster in the kitchen, and she was desperate not to be found.

“Open your eyes, you have to get up,” Phoebe called, as Sunset could hear her footsteps in the kitchen beyond the darkness.

“Monsters are coming to gobble you up.

Out of bed, hide under the floor,

The monsters are breaking down the door.”

Cinder stifled a moan of fear and tried to shrink back yet further into the cupboard.

“Hide in the cupboard, are they near?

Monsters know how to smell your fear.”

Cinder’s fear only rose at that; she began to quiver with panic, wondering if she had chosen the right hiding place, if maybe she should have hidden somewhere else, if maybe the garden would have been better.

“You’ll hear the screams and then you’ll know:

Mommy and Daddy can’t help you now.”

The cupboard door opened. Candlelight flooded inside, dispelling the darkness to reveal Phoebe, a smile like a knife upon her face.

“Close your eyes, don’t look up,” she said.

“Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

Cinder screamed, but no help came. She beat at Phoebe, but it was all in vain as she was dragged, kicking and screaming and struggling to no avail, out of the cupboard and into the kitchen.

Sunset didn’t want to see what was coming next. She didn’t want to be a witness to it, she didn’t want to be a part of it. She turned away, she closed her eyes, she covered her ears against the screaming.

But she felt it, nonetheless.

She felt it all.

It was her stepsisters who started calling her Cinder instead of Ashley; they called it her for so long, and they and her stepmother were the only people that she spent any time with, that it had become her name. Who was Ashley? A foolish, spoiled little girl who hadn’t understood the way the world really worked, an idiot who believed in love and happiness and that the arms of a parent would keep you safe. Ashley was another girl, who had lived another life, a pleasant life and one to be envious of, but not her life. Not her. That hadn’t happened to her. All of those things that they remembered had happened to somebody else. She was Cinder. Cinder Little-Glas- no. No, that wasn’t her either. Those names meant nothing to her. They belonged to the people who had abandoned her. They were somebody else’s parents, and she didn’t want their name. She was Cinder, Cinder nothing, Cinder of the fireplace, Cinder the slave; just Cinder.

Cinder the Destined. When she was not working, she read; she read the old Mistralian warrior epics, full of great princes and warriors driven on by destiny to great and terrible fates. If they had endured adversity, it was no matter, because they had destiny carrying them forward, and secure in that knowledge, they had gone forth and endured all trials. That was her; that was what she had to be: destined, and confident in her destiny. It didn’t matter how much they teased her, they beat her, they insulted her; it didn’t matter what they made her do or where they made her sleep. All that mattered was that she had a destiny, a great destiny, the greatest destiny that had ever been seen in the world of Remnant, and she would overcome all of this and all of them because destiny had willed it so.

Phoebe went to Atlas Academy; despite the money lavished on her training and equipment, she continued to be, at best, an average fighter. Her path crossed that of Pyrrha Nikos more than once, and every time, she was effortlessly swatted aside. And while she was away at school, Cinder would steal her training weapons in the middle of the night and resume the instruction that her father had begun: with the bow, with the twin swords, with the javelin. She unlocked her aura simply by persistently willing that it should be so. She trained by night until she was at least as good as her stepsister was who trained during the day and with no expense spared.

When she was fourteen years old, with stepsister Phoebe away at Atlas, Cinder Nothing had locked her stepmother and stepsister Philonoe inside the house and then burned it to the ground.

Sunset could feel the heat of the flames as she stood and watched it burn. She could feel the satisfaction as her stepmother and stepsister screamed for help which did not come. She could feel the glee at being free of them, the joy at their being dead, the feeling that once again, life lay open before her to choose her own path.

She could be whatever she wanted to be in this world.

She had fought, she had killed, she had stolen; she had disdained the criminal gangs who infested Mistral’s lower levels and had rained down wrath on any who tried to use her for their purposes. Cinder had aimed at higher things than simply being a skilled enforcer.

She had her sights upon the upper town, upon the high society that her father and her unlamented stepmother had been a part of.

Sunset saw a party, a glittering Mistralian party, more crowded even than the reception that she, Sunset herself, had attended in Mistral as Pyrrha’s guest. Everyone was so splendidly turned out; jewellery glittered upon every lady’s neck and arm and finger, and on many of the men as well. The colours were a riot of golds and reds and purples. The air was rich with the scent of expensive perfume. The great and the good of Mistral mingled and talked and danced and ordered the whole kingdom as they willed.

Mistral was ruled from such events as these, Cinder realised; the policies of the kingdom were set not in the council chamber but by men and women of good family setting the world to rights over hors d’oeuvres, accompanied by glasses of exquisitely aged wine that had been laid down in the days of their many-times great-grandfathers.

Sunset saw Pyrrha, younger then but quite recognisable, already the talk of the city; the great and the good fawned over her; Pyrrha’s mother stood over her, basking in the reflected glory of her daughter’s skills as people talked of her as a champion of the regional tournament, of the city, even of the Vytal Festival.

It was strange; as herself, Sunset could recognise the signs of Pyrrha’s discomfort with all of this, the way that she didn’t talk much, the way she looked and held herself with subtle discomfort… but Cinder didn’t notice any of that, and so, through her memories, Sunset could feel all of the resentment, the rage that Cinder had felt – and still felt, now that Sunset reconsidered some of the things that Cinder had said about Pyrrha – towards her: the precious princess of Mistral, the spoiled brat, the girl who had everything she ever wanted handed to her because everyone loved her so much, the girl who never had to work for anything in her whole life because she was pretty and rich and came from the right family, and so, she didn’t have any worries. She got all the chances, she got all the choices, she could be anything that she wanted in this world, while Cinder… it was as though people could tell, despite her stolen dress, that she didn’t belong here, that she wasn’t one of them, that she was an outsider, unwanted, unclean.

She hated them. She hated all of them. Sunset could feel the rage, the hollow absence of all other feelings; no one to love, no one to cherish, nothing but hatred, hatred incarnate, hate for Mistral, hate for Pyrrha, hate for Phoebe away at Atlas, hate for the high society that didn’t want her, hate for the parents who had abandoned her, hate for the whole wretched system of the world that seemed determined to destroy people like her.

She had lived a life of fear and powerlessness, but no more; she would be the one to put others in fear with her power. She would be the enemy of this world and its destruction.

She was Cinder, and she would see this whole rotten edifice… Fall.

Sunset saw-

“NO! Get out of my head!”

Sunset was jolted out of Cinder’s thoughts and feelings as she felt a powerful punch to the stomach that threw her, pinwheeling through the air, to land flat on her face on the stone.

Sunset groaned just a little as she looked up. Cinder was gasping. Her face was pale and she looked… she looked afraid.

“What…” Cinder murmured. “What was that?”

Sunset started to push herself up off the ground. “Did… did all of that really happen to you?”

“Stay where you are!” Cinder snapped, and Sunset had the sense that she was now – perhaps for the first and only time – seeing the real Cinder, stripped of all the masks that she used to hide herself from the world and all those in it. “Stay away from me.”

“Cinder…” Sunset murmured. “Ashley-”

“Don’t call me that!” Cinder snarled. “I... I care for you, Sunset; you make me feel... but if you call me by that name again, I will burn you from the inside out, I swear it!” She breathed heavily, in and out. “My name… my name is Cinder Fall, the harbinger of this world’s destruction! I’m not… I’m not some stupid little girl who believed that her mother loved her and that her father would protect her from all danger! I am Cinder Fall, and my destiny will not be denied! Not by Ozpin, not by Ironwood, not by Pyrrha Nikos, not by all the power of Atlas and Mistral! And not by you either, Sunset Shimmer. If you have really seen what you were never meant to see, then you have to know that I won’t stop until-”

She was stopped in mid-flow by a bright spotlight suddenly shining down upon her, illuminating her like the star of a play.

Sunset looked up to see an Atlesian dropship, the first of several swooping down out of the night sky, shining the spotlight down on Cinder.

“This is the Atlesian military. Keep your hands where we can-”

Cinder ran. She turned and ran, fleeing into the night with the Atlesian dropship in pursuit.

Sunset did not pursue. She wasn’t really dressed for a fight, she didn’t have her dust… and as one hand went to her stomach, to the scar that Adam had given her, Sunset couldn’t help but reflect on how badly it seemed to go for when she pushed her luck in battle.

So she stood there, her enemy gone, but her soul full of the feelings that that enemy had left behind.

She could still feel it. All the anger, all the rage, all the bitterness. When she thought about Atlas, Cinder’s disdain mingled with her own feelings towards it, amplifying the bitter memories that she had about Canterlot and warring with the attachment she felt towards RSPT. When she thought about Pyrrha, Cinder’s hatred mingled with her own affection like oil and water, her thoughts flickering between her own feelings and those of Cinder from moment to moment.

Sunset would have liked – she would very much have liked – to say that she had never felt so much anger and hate inside anyone before, but that wasn’t true. She had felt it before: inside herself.

Thinking about Cinder was like looking in a mirror.

And it was terrifying.

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: No major changes here, a few wording changes to the initial dialogue between Cinder and Sunset, and a couple of scenes of Cinder's abuse at the hands of Phoebe.

The End of the Night (Rewritten)

The End of the Night

Pyrrha was coming increasingly to regret the fact that she had stayed in the ballroom after Sunset, Ruby, and the Rosepetals departed; judging by the uneasy look on his face, it seemed that Jaune was feeling the same way.

Like everyone else – she could hardly have missed it – she had heard the crash as Rainbow Dash leapt down from the upper gallery to land in the middle of the dance floor, yelled for Penny, and then rushed out into the night. She had seen Ruby, Penny, Sunset, and Ciel follow Rainbow out, but she had not followed herself. She hadn't been asked for, Jaune hadn't been asked for, and Sunset and Ruby had seemed more curious as to what Rainbow was doing and why she was acting this way than they seemed to have been requested or required by her.

Whatever was going on with Rainbow Dash of Team RSPT, Pyrrha had told herself that it was none of her business, and it had been easy to tell herself so, at first, once the immediate disturbance of Rainbow's entry and abrupt departure had subsided and the dancing had resumed. Jaune was here, his arms were around her, seeming to fit her body so perfectly as if they had been made for one another. They had the music and each other, and in his arms, she felt so comfortable and so wanted and so…so happy that it was easy to tell herself that Sunset and Ruby would soon return, that whatever had so bothered Rainbow was nothing that ought to bother Pyrrha, that everything was going to be alright, and they could continue to dance and talk untroubled.

But then General Ironwood stalked out of the ballroom, grim-faced, his look as hard as the armour on one of his warships, and it got a little bit harder for Pyrrha to tell herself that. Jaune also began to look more troubled, and the fact that – contrary to what Pyrrha, at least, had expected – Sunset and Ruby did not swiftly return only added to the sense of unease that was building up like a dust charge in her gut.

They weren't the only ones to have noticed that something was up. Yang was looking increasingly agitated, and Emerald and Mercury of Team CLEM – neither their team leader nor their fourth teammate had come to the dance tonight, as far as Pyrrha could see – were looking worried as well, although in their case, it was harder to understand.

By this time, Pyrrha and Jaune had stopped dancing and were sitting at one of the tables that lined the eastern edge of the ballroom.

"Do you think we should have gone with them?" Jaune asked.

"They… they didn't ask for us," Pyrrha said, although even as she said it, she could tell how feeble it sounded in her ears. She frowned. "But, yes, I'm beginning to think so."

Jaune looked as though he wished that she'd given him a different answer. "But… come on, we're in the middle of Beacon; how much trouble could they really have gotten into?"

Pyrrha looked at him, and in that moment, she was sure that they were both thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, we should go look for them," Jaune said as she started to rise from his seat.

"I'm not sure that Professor Ozpin would approve of that," Blake murmured as she drifted over to their table. With a jerk of her head, she gestured to the headmaster standing by the doorway, a benign smile seeming to be fixed upon his face as he – by the looks of it – attempted to dissuade Yang from leaving the party early. Yang was gesticulating wildly with her arms, but so far, she hadn't just pushed past him and left anyway.

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. "I'm sure that the professor has his reasons, even if they're not immediately clear to us."

"Probably," Blake agreed. "Although that doesn’t mean that he has good reasons, necessarily."

"What if they really are in trouble?” Jaune asked anxiously.

Blake’s expression was pensive, her brow furrowed slightly. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," she murmured. She looked at Pyrrha. "Wait two minutes, then go in yourself and meet me outside the window."

"Is it empty?"

"Cinder’s teammate Emerald went in a little while ago," Blake said. "But that's the advantage of the ladies' room: solid doors."

Their plans were interrupted by the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet upon stone, the thumping, stomping sound that preceded the arrival of a column of Atlesian troops led by what Pyrrha guessed to be a pair of specialists in blue flight suits with yellow flashes on their collars. The music stopped as the Atlesians entered the ballroom, and all the dancing ceased as well, as everyone on the floor – everyone in the room – went quiet and stared at the new arrivals as they strode in with weapons at the ready.

Professor Ozpin seemed, if not nervous, then at the least none too pleased by this intrusion by the forces of Atlas. The genial smile was gone from his face, and he no longer leant upon his cane as he made his way over to one of the two specialists, a woman with red-amber hair in a wild, spiky cut like flames burning on top of her head.

“May I ask what you intend by this show of force, specialist?” Professor Ozpin asked. “This is still a school, not an Atlesian military base.”

The female specialist glanced at him. “Sir, what’s gone on here tonight should concern you just as much as it concerns us.” She raised her voice. “I’m looking for Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black of Haven Academy’s Team Clementine. Emerald Sustral and Mercury Black, will someone please identify them?”

A murmur ran through the students in the ballroom.

“What’s this about?” Yang demanded. “What’s going on?”

“If you’re name isn’t Emerald Sustrai or Mercury Black-”

“Dammit, I want to know if my sister is okay!” Yang snapped.

“Emerald and Mercury both went to the bathroom, a few minutes ago,” Blake said, getting up and stepping away from Pyrrha and Jaune’s table. “They haven’t come out.”

The specialist glanced at Blake and might have recognised her; it was hard to tell if the nod she gave was simple acknowledgement or if it had any respect in it. “Soarin’, take the little boys’ room.”

“Right,” the male specialist – Soarin’, one could only assume – acknowledged, and a pair of Atlesian soldiers split off from the main group behind each of the two specialists as they both produced their weapons: the woman carried what looked like some kind of flamethrower, judging by the bulging tank of fire dust at one end; the man carried a crimson tower shield and what Pyrrha at first took to be a sword before it transformed into an assault rifle in his hand.

The students made way for them – encouraged by the professors, who all moved to in some way shield the students from anything that might be about to happen – as they approached the doors into the two bathrooms, which sat side by side at the far end of the room. They approached, waited outside the doors for a moment, nodded to one another, and then as one, they kicked in the doors and burst into the respective toilets.

A moment later, they both emerged, looking disgruntled.

“The window was open?” the woman asked.

“Yeah,” Soarin’ said. “You?”

“The same,” the woman growled. She tapped something in her ear. “General, this is Spitfire. Sustrai and Black aren’t here; they slipped out of the bathroom windows before we arrived. I had Misty and Fleetfoot covering the back, but they didn’t see anything; they must have cleared out before we were set up. We got here too late. Blitz too, sir? They must have known we were coming. Do you want us to do a sweep of the whole grounds? Roger that, sir. Oh, General, one more thing. I’ve got a lot of anxious people here; what should I tell them? Yes, sir, on the double.”

The woman who had identified herself as Spitfire cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, the CCT tower here in Beacon was attacked by an individual named Cinder Fall,” – a shocked murmur ran through the ballroom, but Spitfire ignored it to continue speaking – “this individual was stopped before she could accomplish any serious damage but managed to evade Atlesian forces and is still at large. Her teammates have also fled before they could be questioned with regards to the extent of their knowledge and involvement.”

Murmurs of shock and alarm ran through the crowd – Pyrrha knew from just a glance at Jaune that he had put it all together just as much as she had – but Spitfire didn’t give them a chance to finish.

“General Ironwood requests that all students remain here under the protection of these guards while our forces conduct a thorough search of the campus for these fugitives.”

“In this instance, I am inclined to agree with the General,” Professor Ozpin said, raising his voice until, like the clouds on an overcast day, it blanketed all the other voices in the ballroom. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, I urge you all to remain calm. I assure you that there is neither cause for alarm nor reason to panic. I apologise for the disruption to what had proven a most entertaining evening, but I promise you are all perfectly safe; I have little doubt that the fugitives have already fled the grounds, but just in case, you will all remain here until the all-clear is sounded, and your professors and I will join our Atlesian allies in standing guard until the school has been thoroughly investigated. Team leaders, please give the names of any of your teammates who are not here to Professor Goodwitch, who will go round them up and bring them back here so that everyone can be accounted for.”

“Why should we just stay here?” Yang asked. “We can help! And what about Ruby? You still haven’t told me anything about where my sister is!”

“I am sure that you would all be quite willing to assist the investigation at this time, Miss Xiao Long, but it would be imprudent of me to allow students to venture out into the night against an enemy who… might well turn out to be too much for you to handle,” Professor Ozpin said. “It is for the best that you all remain here.”

“Not until I know that Ruby’s okay!”

“Which one of you is Jaune Arc?” Spitfire demanded.

Jaune looked a little uncertain as he got to his feet. “I-I’m Jaune Arc.”

“Come with me,” Spitfire said. “We need your semblance.”

“What?” Pyrrha asked. “Is someone hurt?”

“Is it Ruby?” Yang asked.

“No, it’s one of our people, but there is a little Vale kid up there too, I think,” Spitfire said. “Come with me, and you’ll see for yourself.”

Rainbow Dash groaned. Her aura was taking a while to come back after it had been broken by Cinder, and even when it did come back, it wouldn’t fix all of these injuries right away. Which meant that she was just going to have to suffer through the pain for a while. There was nothing especially wrong with that – she could handle the pain – what she couldn’t do was handle it quietly.

She groaned again, and Twilight let out a little yelp as though she was getting sympathy pains or something. Twilight was the closest to Rainbow Dash as they waited in the wrecked computer room. Penny, Ciel, and Ruby were all standing guard, but Twilight was just sort of lingering there, looking down at the floor and now making noises.

Rainbow winced as she sat up a little straighter. “Twi? Are you okay? You told me that she didn’t hurt you, right?”

She had thought that she’d been there in time to save Twilight from any real harm; she’d thought that Twi’s aura hadn’t broken. If she’d been wrong about that, if Twilight had gotten hurt… how was she going to live with it? How was she gonna explain it to everyone back home?

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight’s voice was soft and quiet and so pitiable it was mushing up Rainbow’s heart, not that she’d ever admit to that. “I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Rainbow repeated uncomprehendingly. “Come on, Twilight, what do you have to be sorry about?”

Twilight looked at her, and Rainbow saw that her eyes were filled with ears. “This is all my fault!” she wailed. “If I hadn’t been here, or if I’d been stronger, then you wouldn’t have had to come rescue me and-”

“Hey,” Rainbow said, not unkindly but firmly enough to cut her off. With one hand, she gestured for Twilight to come closer. “Come here.”

Twilight blinked. “Huh?”

“Just... come here,” Rainbow said. She appreciated the way that nobody else in the room was looking at them; this was going to be hard enough without people staring at them. “It’ll only be for a second.”

Twilight looked uncertain, nervous, a little on edge still, but nevertheless, she came closer, stepping around the debris that littered the floor and kneeling down upon that floor next to Rainbow Dash.

“Does… does it hurt?”

“A little,” Rainbow admitted. “Only for now, though.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Stop saying that,” Rainbow said. “My job – part of my job – is to keep you safe. And I did that tonight.” She wiped away Twi’s tears with one hand. “So what if I took a couple of hits doin’ it? You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Twilight closed her eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of having to take care of me?”

“Never,” Rainbow said firmly. She put one hand on the back of Twilight’s head and nudged it so that their foreheads were touching. Rainbow closed her eyes too, for a moment. “That’s why it doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to fight someone like Cinder, because you’re my friend, and I will always be there to keep you safe.” 'To each of us falls a task,' that was what Rainbow believed, just like she’d told Yang and Blake; Rainbow didn’t know what Twilight’s task was yet, but she was sure it wasn’t to fight anybody. And if Rainbow’s task turned out to be just keeping Twi safe, well… that was okay by her. “You don’t need to apologise to me; I should be the one saying sorry. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

Twilight shook her head, pulling away. “No, you…” She trailed off, but then she smiled. “You were right in the nick of time, just like a hero should be.”

Rainbow sniggered, and then winced when the sudden movement caused the pain in her side to flare up.

The elevator arrived on their floor and opened with a ding sound that drew every eye. Ciel reacted on instinct, aiming Distant Thunder at the lift as the metal doors slid open.

“At ease, Soleil,” General Ironwood said, looking supremely unconcerned about the ridiculously large gun being aimed at him as he strode out of the elevator and into the room that had briefly been a battlefield. “If our enemies do come back, they’ll have to get through Specialist Schnee this time.”

Ciel lowered her weapon. “Sorry, sir. I suppose I am a little… on edge.”

“Understandable, in the circumstances,” General Ironwood said as he clasped his hands behind his back and walked towards Rainbow Dash and Twilight.

Rainbow tried to rise to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain. “Sir-”

“Don’t get up,” General Ironwood instructed. He looked down at Rainbow, and then at Twilight. His voice softened, his tone becoming kind and almost fatherly. “Twilight, are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Twilight wiped her eyes with one hand. “I’m… kind of a little shook up, I suppose, but I’m fine, sir, thank you for asking.”

“Are you sure?” Ironwood said. “I understand that she had you cornered for a while. I should have provided more security.”

“Rainbow Dash arrived quickly enough, sir,” Twilight murmured.

“And for that, you have my thanks, and that of Atlas,” General Ironwood said, with a look down at Rainbow Dash. “What about you, Dash? How are you feeling?”

Rainbow groaned. “I’m not used to losing, sir, but I’ll live.” She smiled, though a wince of pain got out to ruin it a little. “My pride’s hurt worse than I am.”

“If she’s what I’m afraid she is, then you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of,” General Ironwood muttered.

Rainbow frowned. “Sir?”

“Nothing,” General Ironwood said quickly. He pinched the space between his brows, seeming annoyed at himself. “You did well,” he told her. “You reacted swiftly and decisively, and you performed the first duty of any team leader: to protect your teammates. Yes, the enemy got away, but Twilight lived, and so did you; that’s what matters here, and that’s what makes tonight a victory.” He paused. “But the fact remains that this should never have happened.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” Ciel asked.

“Granted, Soleil.”

“May I enquire as to the status of the criminals?”

“Unfortunately, Cinder Fall and all her teammates have escaped or slipped away before we could get to them,” General Ironwood admitted. “We’re searching the campus, but if they’re smart, they’ll have left the school already.”

“General, sir,” Twilight said, as she climbed to her feet. “I think Cinder probably wiped all the evidence, although I haven’t checked, but… before she arrived, my trace on the email that she sent just finished… one of the locations that it was routed through to conceal its origin was Draco.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “The dragon continent? But there’s nothing there but grimm! Isn’t there?”

“I thought so,” Twilight murmured. “But what if I’m wrong? What if we’re all wrong?”

General Ironwood frowned. For a moment, he didn’t say anything at all; he looked as though he was thinking about something. “I believe you, regardless of whether the evidence is still there, and I’ll consider what you’ve told me. In the meantime, I know that you’ve been through a lot tonight, but are you able to work?”

“Yes, I am,” Twilight said.

“Twi, you don’t have to-” Rainbow began.

“Yes, I do,” Twilight said firmly. “You got hurt tonight because I don’t know how to defend myself, because I wasn’t able to stand up to Cinder; you say that I’m not useless, well, okay, but then let me be useful. This is what I know how to do. What do you need, General?”

“I want you to do a complete systems diagnostic,” General Ironwood said. “Check everything; Cinder doesn’t seem to have expected you to be here, which means that she came to the tower with other intentions, and I want to find out what those intentions were and how much progress she made with them. Check everything, everywhere, and remove anything dangerous that our guest might have left behind.”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said. She hesitated. “Although… I could use a fresh pair of glasses from my room.”

“I’ll have someone bring them over,” Ironwood said. “I don’t want you leaving this room until I give the all-clear. I know I said it’s unlikely that they’re still on the grounds, but I don’t want to take any chances. For that reason, Ciel, Penny, I want you to remain here on guard.”

“Yes, sir,” Ciel said.

“General,” Penny said softly. “Why would Cinder want to do this? Wasn’t she supposed to be a student, one of us?”

“She was never one of us,” Ciel muttered darkly.

“Because she wasn’t from Atlas or because she wasn’t a huntress?” Ruby demanded.

Ciel was silent for a moment. “Neither would appear to be the case, at present.”

“It’s true that Cinder did play the part of a student, as did her teammates,” General Ironwood said. “But it appears likely that that was just a ruse, to gain entry into Beacon for… for some purpose that has yet to be determined.”

“But why?” Penny asked again. “She was even friends with Sunset! She helped save Twilight and Ruby and everyone in the forest!”

“Ingratiating herself as part of her cover, perhaps,” Ciel suggested.

“But why would she betray us all like this now?” Penny demanded.

“We don’t know yet, Penny,” Twilight said softly. “Like the General said, it’s yet to be determined.”

“I wish that I could tell you more,” General Ironwood declared. “Really, Penny, I do, and that goes for all of you here. But for now, I have to ask you to trust me and stand guard until I tell you otherwise.”

“What about me?” Ruby asked.

“Miss Rose, you’re not under my command,” General Ironwood said, “but I would take it as a favour to me if you would stay also. Your teammates will be up shortly.”

Ruby nodded. “You can rely on me, sir.” Her scroll began to buzz. Ruby laughed nervously. “That’s probably just my sister…” she murmured as she pulled out the scroll from behind her. “Ah! It’s Sunset!”

Sunset could half see the tower from where she stood, in the shadow and the shade of the trees that stood in the Beacon courtyard, with the dirt around it scuffing her feet as she hid under the leaves from the moonlight that might otherwise have illuminated her presence and location.

She didn’t want to be seen right now, not by anyone. Hence why she had skulked off after her fight with Cinder and hidden, sort of, in a place where she could see the tower but where she was pretty sure that nobody up in the tower could see her. She’d revealed herself to the Atlesian soldiers and huntsmen searching the grounds, because she wasn’t that stupid, but she didn’t want Ruby, Jaune, or Pyrrha or Team RSPT to see her.

She didn’t want to see them because she hated them, all those interfering-

Sunset shuddered. She didn’t want to see them because of stuff like that. She wasn’t sure that she could keep it all inside.

She didn’t really want to call Ruby either, but she knew that if she didn’t do anything, then they’d probably come looking for her, and she certainly didn’t want that. So, as she looked up at the tower from her sort-of hiding place, Sunset took out her scroll with trembling hands and selected Ruby from her address book.

She called voice-only, so that she didn’t have to see Ruby’s face and feel… whatever it was that Cinder felt about her.

“Sunset!” Ruby cried, her voice emerging loudly from out of the scroll. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Sunset lied. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean 'it doesn’t matter'? You just-”

“I said it doesn’t matter, which means that it shouldn’t concern you!” Sunset snapped. She scowled, at herself. “I’m sorry, Ruby, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m just a little… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Sunset…are you sure you’re okay?” Ruby asked, her voice suffused with concern.

“I told you I was fine.”

“I know,” Ruby replied. “But you don’t sound it.”

“I…” Sunset hesitated. “I’m just a little high strung after… you know.”

Ruby was quiet for a moment. “She got away, didn’t she?”

Sunset made a noise that was not quite a word. “I couldn’t stop her.”

“Well, neither did we, so don’t beat yourself up about it,” Ruby said. “Twilight’s safe, and she’s checking out the computers now, and at least we know that she’s a bad guy now, so everyone will be looking for her, so it’s not like she got away clean or anything.” Ruby paused. “You liked her, didn’t you?”

Or was it seeing my reflection in the mirror that I liked? “She… Ruby, is it okay if I say that I don’t want to talk about this right now?”

“I guess,” Ruby said. “Just… you know that you can talk to me, right? I’m sure that you can talk to all of us, but, if you want to, you can talk to me.”

Sunset couldn’t help but smile, if only for a moment. “Yeah, I know. Listen, do you know where Jaune and Pyrrha are?” She shuddered at the unexpected venom which she put into Pyrrha’s name. She hated her.

Of all the warriors loved by the gods, I hate her the most.

No. No, I don’t; that’s Cinder. She hates Pyrrha, not me.

I don’t hate her… that’s why I can’t risk being around her right now.

Cinder’s emotions boiled like an angry sea inside of Sunset’s soul. Thinking about the things – the people – that made Cinder mad was enough to get Sunset mad in turn; it didn’t matter that Sunset knew Pyrrha better than Cinder ever would, it didn’t matter that Sunset understood all the things that Cinder had so angrily misconstrued about who and what Pyrrha was, it didn’t matter that Pyrrha was one of Sunset’s best friends; right now, just thinking about her was starting to make Sunset furious. She didn’t know what she’d say, what she’d do if she saw her.

She had to stay away until she could get a grip on this.

“No,” Ruby said. “But I think they’re on their way up here. They’re going to want to know that you’re okay.”

“Tell them I’m fine,” Sunset said. “But tell them… tell them I won’t be coming home tonight.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “Sunset, where are you? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sunset insisted. “I’ve just… facing Cinder… I’ve got some stuff to think about. Things to sort through in my head. So… don’t worry when I’m not back tonight. Tell them that, will you?”

“Sure,” Ruby said softly. “Sunset… if something’s wrong, you know we’re all here for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said quickly. “Yeah, I know. Goodnight, Ruby. I’ll see you around.” She snapped the scroll shut and put it away.

We’re all here for you.

But I don’t know if I can be here for you right now.

I don’t know how safe it is for me to be around you all right now.

I don’t know when I’m going to get a grip on this.

It was the sort of thing that she might have spoken to Twilight about – Princess Twilight was someone about whom Cinder had no opinion to interfere with Sunset’s own attitudes – except that the journal was up in her room, and she couldn’t go back to get it without risking running into somebody that she didn’t want to see.

So much hatred, so much contempt, so much venom in everything that she thought about everyone. She hated Pyrrha, she despised Jaune, she wanted Ruby dead, but – for whatever it might be worth – it wasn’t as personal as her desire to accomplish Pyrrha’s destruction was. Blake was vermin in her eyes. Rainbow Dash was a blustering oaf who deserved to see her world burn before her eyes before she died, and Cinder’s general contempt was only heightened by the sense that she had been responsible for tonight’s failure. She wanted Twilight to burn. Yang’s smile had infuriated her, Nora’s laughter made her want to rip the girl’s tongue out of her throat, Weiss was emblematic of everything that she reviled about the world. Sunset herself… Sunset was the only one that Cinder didn’t either dislike or hold in contempt.

That was the worst thing of all, to be honest. Sunset could have stood to know that her enemy didn’t like her very much, but instead… instead, she liked her. She had actually liked her. That hadn’t been a lie. Cinder’s own emotions confirmed it.

She’d thought that they could be friends, for a while, until Cinder had to kill her… because they were so alike.

What am I going to do?

Sunset sighed and ran one hand through her hair as she looked up at the uncaring moon above her.

Won’t someone please tell me what I should do?

The sky was cloudless, and Cinder could see the moon hanging above her without interruption.

The moon and all the stars as well. They shone bright above, uncaring of Cinder’s plight, heedless of the fact that she had been exposed for the serpent she was, forced to fly from Beacon a wanted fugitive.

She had loved the sight of them once, but now… now she found them cold and cruel, the witnesses of her failure.

Failure. Yes, she had failed. It was a bitter draught, made all the more bitter because it was so novel to her. Cinder Fall was not used to failure. Failure, defeat, flight, these were things that happened to someone else, to a different girl, younger and more foolish in every respect.

The girl into whose heart Sunset had seen, the girl whose past had been laid bare to her.

I am not she, and she is not me. What Sunset saw was the past of someone dead, the last echoes of a ghost.

That girl burned to death in the fire, just the same as Philonoe and Lady Kommenos.

I am not her, and she is not me. I am Cinder Fall, and I do not fail.

And yet she had failed. It was the first time. Even her prior setback had been at least a partial success, but this… this had been an unmitigated disaster. They knew who she was, and she and her followers had had to fly from Beacon one step ahead of the Atlesian forces; while it was not guaranteed that they would discover the virus she had planted in the CCT, Cinder would not bet against the fact, which meant that they could not rely on turning the strength of Atlas against them.

When the blow fell, they would find all the guns of Atlas waiting and ready to oppose them.

Meddling daughters of the north. Self-righteous self-appointed defenders of the world. Of all the warriors at Beacon, Cinder detested Pyrrha the most, that vain and foolish princess, but as a group, there was none that drew her ire more than the daughters of the north who walked so proud, who talked so bold, who thought that they could go wither they would, do what they would, order all things as they would without reference to anyone but themselves.

They thought themselves so powerful and, in their power, so secure. But Cinder meant to show them what true power looked like and how their technological prowess of which they were so proud paled by comparison.

But how? Yes, how? How was she to proceed now? How was she to explain this setback to her mistress?

I am not without advantages, even now. She still had the White Fang force massing under Adam’s command; she still had all the dust that Torchwick had acquired for her; the anvil may have been shattered, but the hammer remained intact.

But what good was a hammer without an anvil? It could shatter glass, but it would no more than dent steel.

I must be an alchemist then, and turn steel into glass that it may be broken.

As she began to consider how that might be accomplished, Cinder felt a smile spread across her face. Yes. Yes, that was a way, if Salem would permit it. The resources existed to have it so. Yes, that would do.

This was not the end. She was not yet defeated.

Her scroll went off. Cinder wondered if she should, perhaps, have gotten rid of it; she had thought it untraceable, thanks to the efforts of Doctor Watts, but evidently, it was not so. Twilight Sparkle had found a way to breach his many layers of security, even if it had taken her the processing power of the CCT to do it.

Yes, she should certainly dispose of this, but it was a good thing that she had waited until after she had had this conversation.

Not that was glad to see that Sweetie Drops was calling – in fact, Cinder rolled her eyes at the identity of her caller – but she supposed she ought to answer.

There was some slim chance that the idiot had something worth hearing.

Nevertheless, Cinder didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of her voice as she answered. “What?” she demanded.

“Did they make you?” Bon Bon asked, hissing anxiously into her scroll. “Everyone’s saying that you attacked the CCT! Did they make you?”

The call was voice only, but Cinder almost wished that Bon Bon could see the look of seething disgust, teeth clenched, eyes smouldering, upon her face. “The operation was not as successful as might have been hoped for.”

“Don’t give me that crap-”

“Watch your tongue,” Cinder growled. “I am still the appointed leader of this operation. You are tasked with serving and obeying me.”

“Appointed by who?” Bon Bon demanded. “Wait, never mind, I don’t want to know. Where are you?”

“That’s not something you need to know, any more than you need to know whom I serve,” Cinder informed her sharply.

“I need to know where you are so that I can join you!”

“No,” Cinder said coldly. “You don’t.”

“I do, what if they-”

“If they even suspected your involvement with me, you wouldn’t be at liberty to make this call,” Cinder told her.

“Your cover is blown, the mission is done, you need to extract me-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO!” Cinder roared into her scroll. “I DO NOT TAKE INSTRUCTION FROM YOU, YOU STUPID INCOMPETENT DEADWEIGHT! YOU HAVE BEEN PRACTICALLY USELESS TO ME SINCE YOU ARRIVED AT BEACON!”

She took a deep breath, mastering herself. “But you have an opportunity to redeem yourself and serve me better from now on. Let me clear up what seems to be your misconception: this mission is not over. I am not finished. Certainly, I am not defeated. This is a setback, but one from which I will recover and rise in glory greater than my enemies can imagine. You are, once more, my eyes at Beacon. So you will go to Twilight Sparkle and her friends and tell her that her near death has given you a new perspective on things, you will apologise for all your quarrels, and you will beg their forgiveness. They, being… such performatively good people, will accept your apology and welcome you with open arms. And you will tell me everything. And you’d better make a better job of this than you did the last time I set you a similar task…” Cinder trailed off; she considered pointing out that if Sweetie Drops didn’t do a better job of it this time, then she, Cinder, might not be able to guarantee the safety of her teammates… but in her present state, such a threat might seem ridiculous and could weaken her position rather than strengthening it. “Or somebody will find out that we are connected. Do you understand?”

Bon Bon was silent on the other end of the scroll for a moment. “Yes,” she said tersely.

“Good,” Cinder said sharply. “I’ll be disposing of this device soon; I will contact you again at my discretion. Make sure you have something to report when I do.”

Bon Bon sighed. “Yes, Cinder.”

Bon Bon hung up and threw the scroll down onto the bathroom floor where she proceeded to flip Cinder off with both hands.

She then proceeded to bury her face in both hands.

How did I get myself into this?

She had wanted to change the world. She had looked with envy at Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle – General Ironwood’s protégé, the genius prodigy – she had seen the way that their accomplishments, their promise, their status, drew others to them like two lights guiding ships into harbour.

She had envied that. She had wanted that for herself.

She might have done better to admit that she simply didn’t have the talent for it and made her peace with something more ordinary. Instead… instead, she had gorged on the flattery of Doctor Watts, little suspecting there would be a moment when the bill came due.

“Who is he?”

“That hardly matters, does it? After all, he won’t be with us for much longer.”

Bon Bon got up off the toilet and stood in front of the sink, running the hot water over her hands. It was scalding hot, but it did nothing to wash the blood off, no matter how hard she scrubbed at them.

To Cinder, she was an incompetent fool, but to everyone else if the truth came out, she would be a criminal. A murderer. At best, a pathetic object of pity.

She would not suffer that.

She didn’t want Lyra to see her that way.

There was a knock on the door.

“Bon Bon?” Lyra asked. “Are you okay in there?”

No, Lyra, I’m not okay. I’m trapped in the iron maiden of my bad choices.

Things were spiralling way out of control. What was going to happen now?

She had no idea; she just knew that she wasn’t going to be getting out of this any time soon.

“Bon Bon?” Lyra called again.

Bon Bon turned and scooped up her scroll off the floor as she walked towards the door. She opened it with an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she said. “Do you want to use the bathroom?”

“Are you okay?” Lyra repeated.

Bon Bon sighed. “No,” she admitted. “I can’t… I can’t believe this. A traitor, living among us.”

“You mean another one?” Sky asked from the back of the room.

“I think…” Bon Bon hesitated, but if she was to fulfil Cinder’s new instructions then burying the hatchet with Blake would be a necessity. Rainbow wouldn’t give her a second look until she did. “I think it’s time that we admitted that we were too hard on Blake. After all, it wasn’t Blake who attacked the CCT tonight. In fact… I’m starting to wonder if the release of that stuff about Blake wasn’t a smokescreen, a deliberate attempt to make everyone look at Blake with suspicion to draw attention away from… the real enemies.”

“Maybe,” Sky allowed. “But that Haven girl, I’m sure I’ve seen her hanging around with Sunset a lot; how do we know they’re not all in on it together?”

“'All'?” Dove asked. “How do we define 'all'? Are you suggesting that Ruby Rose is a traitor to humanity?”

Sky hesitated. “Just because she seems nice-”

“I will not pretend to know her well, but I think I know her a little better than you,” Dove declared, “and I think I know her well enough to say that she possesses the heart of a true huntress, and while I cannot say the same for Sunset Shimmer, she loves her teammates well. I cannot think she would betray them, and I cannot think that they would betray all that Beacon stands for.”

“Nor would Dash or Twilight,” Bon Bon said. “Frankly, all things considered, it’s going to be a while before I start pointing fingers again.”

Lyra nodded. “I wonder why they did it, those Haven students. I mean, most of them were human, weren’t they? So they couldn’t be White Fang. Do you think they were grimm cultists?”

“Aren’t they just a bunch of crazies?” Sky asked.

Lyra turned around to look at him. “But what if they weren’t?”

“We can’t know the answer,” Bon Bon said. “And, with luck, we never will, because we’ll never see them again.”

If only that were true.

Cinder heard the doors out onto the balcony creak behind her. A slight gesture of her head, a swift glance behind her, told her that it was Emerald standing in the doorway.

“Is there something I can help you with, Emerald?”

Emerald folded her arms and looked down at the balcony boards beneath her feet. “Mercury and Lightning, they… they want to know what happens now?”

Cinder smirked. “Mercury and Lightning. But not you?”

Emerald shifted uncomfortably. “I… I know you have a plan to turn this around.”

Cinder chuckled. “Such trust.”

Emerald hesitated. “Cinder, are… are you okay?”

“Are you concerned about my wellbeing, Emerald?” Cinder asked, amusement in her voice.

“It’s just that, after tonight… I mean, I know that it hasn’t gone the way you would have wanted,” Emerald murmured. “How… how do you…?” Cinder heard Emerald’s footsteps on the wooden boards as she approached. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Emerald’s hand reaching out for hers. “It’s okay to-”

Cinder jerked away before Emerald could touch her. “Stop,” she commanded, her voice cold and hard. “Do not presume that I am so discomfited by this that I require your pity or your comfort.”

“'Pity'?” Emerald repeated, taking a step backwards, away from Cinder. “No, that’s not-”

“Then what?” Cinder demanded. “Do you think me weak? Do you think me lost?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Cinder snapped.

Emerald looked away. “I just… I just wanted you to know that it’s okay.”

“'Okay'?” Cinder repeated, a bitter laugh rising from her throat. “'Okay'? Our cover has been exposed, my virus stands under threat of discovery, the eyes of the Emerald Tower see as clearly as they ever did, and all the strength of the North remains arrayed against us; all of my plans for this night have been undone; how then, is this okay, you stupid girl?” She raised her hand, and Emerald cowered before the blow.

“Please,” she whimpered, covering her face with her arms.

Cinder paused, her hand seeming to stick in the air as though it were crystallised.

'Please,' the foolish little girl had begged. 'Please don’t, please stop, please don’t hurt me. '

And Phoebe had paid no heed to all her pleading.

Slowly, Cinder lowered her hand. “I… I am sorry, Emerald,” she murmured. She did not really know where this sudden impulse towards mercy had come from, but she felt it nonetheless: the urge to be better, to be lordly and generous, to be a gentlemare… what an odd word, she knew not where it had come from. “Forgive me. I… I am out of sorts tonight.”

Emerald lowered her arms and once more looked on Cinder’s face. “That… that’s fine, Cinder; that was all I was trying to say. It… it’s fine if you’re not fine. After the night you’ve had, no one would blame you.”

“I am not sure Mercury or Lightning will be so forgiving,” Cinder murmured. “But I will speak to them and raise their spirits, ere I make account for this night to my mistress. Where are they?”

“In the dining room,” Emerald said. “Um, Cinder?”

“Something else?”

Emerald swallowed. “Our… our hosts, they… there’s a girl; they’ve got her… she’s tied up.”

“These people are disciples of the dark,” Cinder informed her. “They worship the dark powers that manifest as Creatures of Grimm; some such merely hope to be spared death at the hands of those powers, while others covet such power for themselves. Did you imagine that the worship of darkness was done without deeds of darkness?”

Emerald whispered. “What will they do to her?”

“Sacrifice her, most likely,” Cinder replied, “to the Ideal of the Grimm.”

Emerald winced.

“You disapprove?” Cinder asked.

“I… who is she?” Emerald asked quietly.

“A child of the streets, probably,” Cinder said. “A nobody.”

The house in which they had taken refuge was a large one, considering its place out beyond the Red Line, in the more vulnerable part of Vale. Most families with the means to afford such a house would have found shelter on the right side of the walls, but this family had chosen to establish themselves here, in the danger zone, where for the most part, only Vale’s poorer residents were to be found. Of course, these parts of Vale were less well policed, and more to the point, there were a lot of people here whom no one would miss.

“So was I, before I met you,” Emerald murmured.

“We are the guests here, Emerald,” Cinder reminded her. “It is not for us to dictate the behaviour of our hosts. Besides, if we were to let her go, she might bring the authorities down upon us. Speaking of which.” She squeezed her scroll in her hand, crushing the device into a twisted, ruined, useless mass. “Come,” she declared. “Let us go.”

Emerald fell in behind her as Cinder strode off the balcony and into the dark and shadowy house; most of the lights were off, but Cinder could find her way easily enough; she could see as well in darkness as any faunus could, one of the many advantages that she had acquired as a result of the joining. She had been purged of many of her human weaknesses.

And of course, it had given her a way into this house, this sanctuary for the night.

She was all that their hosts hoped to become.

Said hosts met her as she was descending the staircase, the two of them standing side by side, the husband looking proud and the wife apprehensive. They had even put on their best clothes for her, as if she were some sort of civic dignitary coming for tea.

They were fools, as all such cultists were, if they thought that a few black masses muttered before an altar or some discrete murders would protect them from the wrath of the grimm, but they were useful fools to her, at present.

Or at least… they had been.

“You servants have been fed and watered, apostle,” the man declared. “They await your presence in the dining room.”

“Good,” Cinder said. “I thank you both for your hospitality. Rest assured, your good services will not go unrewarded.”

“Your good graces are all that we require, apostle,” declared the wife.

“Your presence is a sign that we are not forgotten by the darkness,” the husband said. “We would be honoured, apostle, if you would join us tonight for mass and partake with us in the body and the blood.”

Cinder felt Emerald tense up. Why? The sacrifice these useful idiots had acquired was no part of their company. Why should she care about the fate of one she did not know?

And, what with Cinder and the rest having taken refuge here, it really was better that she die with all her knowledge.

“I am afraid there will be no mass tonight,” Cinder said. “I require your shrine for my own private communion.”

The husband looked surprised to hear it, but he said. “O-of course. As you wish.”

“And I require a scroll of you,” Cinder said. “My own has become… unusable.”

“You may take mine, and gladly,” the wife promised.

“Good,” Cinder said. “Furthermore, my companions and I will also be taking your vehicle in the morning; we have a long journey before us and canot afford to rely on our feet.”

“Everything that we have is at your disposal, blessed one,” the wife declared.

“I am delighted to hear it, and so is that great darkness which we all serve,” Cinder told them, in a tone as soothing as her lies. She smiled thinly. “Your services will not be forgotten, I guarantee,” she promised, to they whose names she had already forgotten. Or should it be that she had never bothered to remember.

Nevertheless, the empty words seemed to gratify the two of them, and they left her in peace at that point to continue her way into the dining room, where Mercury and Lightning Dust were waiting for her.

Lightning had her feet up on the table, staining the fancy dining cloth; Mercury was gnawing on a chicken leg.

“I see that you’ve changed out of your suit,” Cinder observed, noting that Mercury was back in his combat attire.

“You’re welcome that he had something to change into,” Lightning said. It was she who had brought their weapons and their gear away from Beacon when they had been forced to flee at such short notice.

“Thank you, Lightning, for doing your job,” Cinder said sharply.

Lightning smirked. “It’s as well somebody did their job properly tonight, huh?”

Cinder sucked in a sharp intake of breath and reminded herself that this was not the moment to start murdering her own minions. “Tonight is a setback, true,” she said, “but one from which we will recover.”

Mercury swallowed. “How?”

“Our goals remain the same,” Cinder declared. “Our ultimate objective remains the same. We will obtain the crown and the powers of the Fall Maiden-”

“For you?” Lightning asked.

“For me,” Cinder confirmed. “And for my mistress.”

“Right,” Lightning murmured.

Cinder stared into her eyes. The powers of a Maiden were, as the name suggested, only for women. That meant that Mercury could get no ideas above his station, as it were, and Emerald… Cinder had no suspicions regarding Emerald’s loyalty, but Lightning Dust… if any of her group were to betray her, it would be Lightning Dust. She had already seen it once; upon the road, there had been a moment when Lightning had been tempted to administer the coup de grâce herself. For now, her understanding that Cinder was the stronger of the two of them outweighed her greed and lust for power, but if that balance should shift…

If it came to blows, Cinder was prepared and confident in the inevitable outcome. For the moment, however, Lightning was more valuable to her alive than dead.

“Once again,” Mercury said. “How?”

“Cinder has a plan,” Emerald insisted.

“Cinder’s plan is why we’re in this mess!” Mercury snapped. “This isn’t just a minor setback-”

“All setbacks are minor, provided they do not alter the outcome,” Cinder declared. “And the confusion of the night may have blinded you all to the fact that we have lost very little and still have much. Not least our lives, our strength, and ourselves.”

Lightning snorted. “Are you going to tell us that when we work together we can do anything?”

Cinder chuckled. “And why not? Are we not strong? Are we not resolved? Are we not fierce and fire-hardened by adversity?” She looked around the room. The thief, the butcher, the bandit. “Have we not known the cruelty of the world? Have we not been named outcast and unclean by it, banished from the society of these corrupt and iniquitous kingdoms, condemned to lead lives less than beasts, for even animals are fed and cared for and even pampered by those who are set over them?

“We have been less than that; we have had no one to care for us, no one to rely on but ourselves, and has it not made us strong?! We have that strength, still. Yes, our enemies are numerous, their skills are considerable, and their power is great, but they have not known the chill winds that we have endured. What do they know of hardship, those spoiled children up at Beacon, those Atlesians in love with their own ingenuity, these men of Vale grown soft in their complacency? They have not felt what we have felt, have not endured as we have endured; they are soft, and the fires which hardened us shall consume them when we visit the flames upon them and upon this whole wretched kingdom of Vale!

“We shall do as I always intended that we should do: spread discord, set friend against friend, make old enemies of new allies, set all the swords of men against one another and then…” She smiled. “And then unleash my mistress’ creatures to devour them all. And we shall do it because we have been strengthened by adversity. We have been cast out, accounted worthless, ground down beneath the boot of the world’s callousness, but it is because we have been counted worthless that we have the strength to overthrow great empires, topple the towers of the high, and cast the lords of men down from their lofty seats!”

She looked at them, and she could see her words striking home. Lightning and Mercury might affect a cynicism about the world, a carelessness to its doings, but if that had truly been so, she never would have reached out to them. They were of use to her because, in some way, they thought as she did. They, like her, desired to show the world how foolish it had been to cast them from its midst.

“Stay with me,” she urged. “Trust in me. And together, I vow that great things will yet lie before us.”

“We’re with you, Cinder,” Emerald vowed. “All the way.”

Lightning nodded. “Let’s burn this place to the ground.”

Mercury grinned. “I’ve come this far, I guess. No sense backing out now.”

“Indeed,” Cinder said. “Lightning, did you retrieve the Seer?”

“Yes, and you’re welcome to it,” Lightning said, picking up a black sack off the floor and dumping it on the table. “It gives me the creeps.”

“Is it awake?” Cinder asked.

“I hope not,” Lightning muttered.

Cinder carried the sack into the shrine, a dark-enshrouded chamber where a grey beowolf carved of stone snarled above a wooden altar carved with lurid, monstrous images. It all had rather a performative air about it, children playing at darkness and evil.

Of course, their play was not without its teeth, as shown by the victim of whom Emerald was so concerned, but all the same… a secret place of worship, human sacrifice, offerings to some nebulous idea of darkness and destruction… and then, the next day, you went to work and bought a cup of coffee on the way to the office and made sympathetic noises when your colleagues complained about the commute. None of this worship, this faith, required them to change in any other way the way in which they lived their lives.

They made sacrifices, but they did not make sacrifices; none were required of them by the absent focus of their worship.

How unlike the truth behind the myths, who asked much, yes, but who promised much and delivered much in turn.

Although there was no true power in it, nevertheless, Cinder laid the sack upon the altar and took a step backwards from it.

She opened the bag, and the seer emerged. It had no eyes; it appeared at first glance to be some sort of sphere of glass – either coloured dark or filled with some murky opaque liquid – standing upon legs fashioned after teeth. But the crusting in places of plates of bone betrayed the truth of it, and as Cinder waited, a golden light began to shine out of the dark depths, and the seer rose into the air as fleshy tentacles tipped with points of bleached white bone descended from the base of it.

Nothing yet was visible but the light; nevertheless, as the grimm hovered in the air, Cinder could feel herself being watched, weighed, and judged.

She dropped to one knee. “Mistress.”

Cinder’s head was bowed, so she did not see the face of Salem appear within the seer, but she did hear her mistress’ voice echoing out from the creature and into the cellar, caressing her with a maternal gentleness.

“Cinder,” Salem said. “I gather that you have some ill news to bring me.”

Cinder took a breath. “How much do you know, mistress?”

“Whether I know everything or nothing should be of no concern to you,” Salem replied. “Tell me all, regardless.”

Salem, she was sure, would know if she lied, and so she said, “I have been… defeated, Mistress.” How bitter that word was to say. “At first, everything went according to plan; I easily despatched the guards Ironwood had set around the tower. However…”

“Go on,” Salem urged.

“I had not known that there would be someone else in the tower besides the guards,” Cinder said. “One of Ironwood’s pet protégés. She has broken the encryptions used to protect the message I had sent regarding Blake Belladonna’s past and identified me as the source. She… she may also know that the signal bounced through Draco.”

“I see,” Salem murmured, her tone inscrutable. “Is there a reason you did not simply kill her and let her take her knowledge to the grave?”

“I tried,” Cinder said. “That was my first move after inserting the virus into the CCT. But she summoned an ally to protect her, and although I was victorious in battle, more of their comrades arrived, and I… I was forced to retreat.”

“You mean to flee,” Salem corrected her. “I cannot imagine that you are still at Beacon.”

“No,” Cinder confessed. “My followers and I were forced to abandon the school and evade the Atlesian forces. We have taken refuge-”

“Where you have fled to is irrelevant, so long as you are safe,” Salem said. “Are you safe, Cinder?”

“We are, Mistress,” Cinder said. “For now, at least.”

There was a moment of silence, broken by Salem’s sighing. “Oh, Cinder. I confess that I am… disappointed.”

Cinder closed her eyes, flinching away from the word. “I… I am sorry.”

“'Sorry' hardly makes up for such complete incompetence,” the lugubrious voice of Doctor Watts emerged from out of the seer. “You have been exposed; my virus will soon follow-”

“That is not certain,” Cinder insisted.

“But it is likely,” Watts insisted. “Why, you have even put our own location in jeopardy.”

“That was not my doing,” Cinder replied, her voice sharpening. Doctor Watts was not Salem, and she would not be spoken too in such a fashion by a mere equal. “You’re the one whose encryptions could be broken by a child!”

“And you are one who insisted on using them in such a petty fashion,” Watts said, contemptuously. “Was it worth it, for all that it has cost us?”

“Don’t be so gloomy, Arthur,” Salem said, her voice even and calm. “As yet, it has cost us little or nothing.”

“But ma’am, if James-”

“Ozpin is already well aware of where to find me, if he wishes to do so,” Salem declared, causing Cinder to wonder if that fact was as new to Watts as it was to her. “And Ozpin knows that even if he mustered every huntsman in Remnant, he would not have the strength to reach me here. This land belongs wholly to the grimm… and to me. Our enemy is too well aware of this to trouble us in our own home again.”

Again? Cinder kept her expression neutral, with just a hint of contrition. It would do no good if Salem believed that she sought to pry into secrets that were not hers.

“You are right, of course, ma’am,” Watts said. “But nevertheless, the fact remains that Cinder’s incompetence has put all of our efforts in Vale in grave jeopardy.”

Cinder growled. “Mistress, I assure you that I will do and deliver all that I have promised you. Vale will fall, Ozpin will die, the relic will be yours, and I will become your Fall Maiden.”

“Your confidence is admirable,” Salem said. “But how do you propose to accomplish all of this with your cover at Beacon blown and your true loyalties revealed?”

“At first light, I will join the White Fang forces mustering to the southeast, and accelerate the timetable of our assault,” Cinder said. “There is no point in waiting until the Vytal Festival now.”

“Do you still believe that such an attack can succeed?” Watts demanded.

“I believe that it will give me what I need, a new means to spread discord between the defenders of Vale,” Cinder declared. “To which end, Mistress, I request the services of the Sirens to help spread anger and uncertainty.”

Salem was silent for a moment. “For now, you may have one single Siren, the one who calls herself Sonata. The other two shall remain here as hostages for her continued obedience. That may change later, but for now… proceed with the rest of your plans.”

“Thank you, Mistress, I will.”

“You have been confounded tonight,” Salem said. “But even I have endured failures in the course of my life. What matters is not that you have failed, but how you respond to that failure. Pick yourself up, understand why you were defeated, and in that knowledge, grow stronger.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Cinder replied. “I guarantee, I shall not fail you again.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The big change here is to Cinder's section, which has been almost completely rewritten; also the addition of some Bon Bon stuff.

The Day After: Sunset (Rewritten)

The Day After: Sunset

Pyrrha knelt, her aura broken, her weapons shattered before her. Pyrrha knelt, and Sunset stood over her, triumphant.

Pyrrha looked up at her, that infuriatingly beautiful face trembling with a mixture of pain and fear, her eyes wide with the despair that would soon engulf the entire world.

“Do you believe in destiny?” she whispered.

Sunset said nothing. She stood over the helpless girl before her, drinking in her power over the so-called Invincible Girl. She savoured her triumph like nectar and ambrosia. She had won! The champion of Mistral, the darling of high society, the one they all flocked around to praise and flatter and make much of, and yet, here she knelt, helpless and defeated at her feet while she, the despised outcast, the one they had scorned with hostile, pitying glances, the one they had sought to degrade and cast down, the one they had expelled from paradise, stood triumphant over her.

The smirk that grew on Sunset’s face was cruel and terrible. “Yes,” she declared, for she believed in destiny, and her faith had been rewarded, justified, proved beyond doubt. She had allowed inexorable destiny to drive her forward, and now, her hour had come: the hour of the setting sun when darkness would engulf the world.

Fire sprang up in the palm of her hand. The flickering flame – scarlet and gold, like the pattern of Sunset’s burning hair – danced reflected for a moment in Pyrrha’s emerald eyes.

And then, still smiling, Sunset turned her palm towards Pyrrha and engulfed the champion of Mistral in the flames.

Pyrrha screamed. And Sunset, the other Sunset, the Sunset who stood unseen and held fast in the shadows on the edges of the scene, howled in helpless, futile, anguished outrage as she watched herself murder her best friend.

And it wasn’t even the first time.

Her eyes had run dry of tears watching this and other scenes like it. Blake spat in Sunset’s face before Sunset cut off her head; Ruby pleaded with her before Sunset shot her through the heart; Jaune…

Sunset gasped for breath as the world around her shimmered and split apart into a hundred thousand fragments like shards of coloured glass that hung suspended in the void for a moment before reforming into something and to somewhere new. Sunset didn’t recognise these places – maybe they were places that Cinder remembered – but even though she’d seen Cinder’s past, Sunset hadn’t been paying enough attention to the backgrounds to get a real sense of them.

And now her attention was too much on what she did recognise. Though she had seen this before, Sunset found that she couldn’t look away.

Jaune lay on his back on the ground, his shield gone and his sword beyond his reach. Sunset, the other Sunset, the one that Sunset was forced to watch commit unspeakable act after monstrous crime, stood with one foot upon his chest and a flaming spear in her hand.

“No!” Sunset yelled. “Stop it! Don’t do this!” She sobbed, though her tears were all cried out, whether for her friends who had become her victims or for herself… she couldn’t say.

Perhaps it was for all of them.

“No,” Sunset whispered, wanting so desperately to look away but absolutely unable to do so. “No, this isn’t you. This is Cinder, this is her, not you; this is… this is…”

“Calm yourself, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset gasped, looking upwards as the world around her dissolved, turning to smoke and then, like smoke, being blown away by the strong gale that suddenly gusted all around, rippling through Sunset’s hair and tugging at her jacket as it swept the other Sunset and Jaune and everything else away; and through the gale, that still, small voice cut like a knife: “Calm yourself.”

Sunset was left standing in a field of stars, looking up at the moon; not the broken moon of Remnant, spilling its shattered fragments out across the night sky, but the whole and silver moon of Equestria beneath which she had grown up. She had studied by the light of that moon; she had caught glimpses of it peeking through the gaps in the curtains as she and Celestia sat before the fire and Sunset absorbed as much of the princess’ wisdom as she could comprehend and less than she had believed at the time; she had walked beneath it, lived beneath it… and left it behind like everything else in that world.

Yet now, it shone above her once again.

And out of that moon, that familiar and so long vanished moon, descended an alicorn of midnight blue, her flowing mane as liquid with power as that of Celestia itself steaming behind her. Her cutie mark was a crescent moon upon black, the same symbol that glowed upon the gorget she wore around her neck.

She flew down from the moon and settled – stood, if such a word had any meaning here – upon the same surface of nothingness that held Sunset still amongst the stars. A ground – barren and empty but present nonetheless – appeared beneath them.

The eyes of the alicorn were filled with pity. “Dark are your dreams tonight, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset stared at her; stared up at her, for although there was not such a great difference in their heights, nevertheless, there was something about this crowned alicorn that invited her to look up. Her mere presence calmed Sunset, soothing Cinder’s boiling anger within her and setting it, like a raging beast, to sleep.

“Who?” Sunset whispered, as she felt a deep calm settle over her, smothering all other feelings like a blanket. “Who are you?”

"I am Luna, princess of the moon and night and mistress of the dreaming realm. And I have heard a great deal about you, Sunset Shimmer."

"Luna," Sunset murmured. "You… you're Princess Celestia's sister? You're Nightmare Moon?"

The words were out of her mouth so fast that Sunset could only regret them once they had flown past her lips and were past all hope of recall, and yet, Princess Luna did not grow angry, as Sunset might well have done in her position. Instead, her expression turned melancholy, and her dark blue eyes filled with regret.

"Yes," she said. "I was Nightmare Moon, once. But I have been saved, redeemed from darkness by Twilight Sparkle and her friends."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Twilight… never mentioned that." No wonder Celestia loves her so.

No, no that was not right. Celestia did not love in mere reward, nor did she love in due proportion to the services rendered by she to whom that love was given. The love of Princess Celestia was not a thing that could be bought even in the coin of service to the realm or to herself; rather, it was the water in a well from which all could drink… provided they were worthy of the purest of all waters.

For the salvation of her sister, Sunset had no doubt that Celestia would forever be grateful to her newer and more successful student… but if she loved Twilight as she had once loved Sunset – as Sunset dared to hope and to believe that she was yet somewhat loved – then it was not for that service, or any other of the services that Twilight had done. Celestia loved her only for herself.

"Perhaps Twilight did not wish to boast of her deeds; humility is one of her lesser virtues," Luna declared.

Something that we don't exactly have in common, Sunset thought, taking some comfort from the way that Luna had named Twilight's modesty a lesser virtue, the implication being it was not one of the vital ones. Sunset hoped not, or she was in trouble.

"And yet," Luna said, "though Twilight and her friends have cleansed my soul, they cannot wipe clean my past as though it never was. I was Nightmare Moon, upon a time. I have that darkness within me, and that regret." She glanced at Sunset out of the corner of one eye. "Something that we have in common, you and I."

Sunset turned away from her, and as she turned away, that barren emptiness on which she stood became a cliff, and beneath her and before her gleamed Canterlot in all its glory. The spires twinkled in the moonlight, and the many lights that shone in the city matched the stars set in the firmament above in multitude and brightness.

Sunset sat down, her legs dangling off the edge of the cliff. Silently, Princess Luna settled down upon her haunches beside her.

"You miss it," Luna observed.

Sunset frowned. "Only children fled from crueller homes than mine do not feel homesick from time to time, I think." She sighed. "If I could live with my friends of Remnant, yet in the gentler world of Equestria, I would count myself blessed beyond deserving… save that I would have no outlet for my ambition." For what need has Equestria of a Sunset Shimmer when it has a Twilight Sparkle here already?

"Your friends," Luna said. "Are those… were they your friends?"

"They are my friends," Sunset muttered. She lifted up one knee, pulling it back from the abyss and resting her booted foot upon the cliff; she rested then her forehead on her knee. "I… I don't want you to think that that was me. That wasn't me, that… I wouldn't do that." She scowled. "I don't want to do that."

“And yet you fear you will,” Luna murmured. A statement, not a question.

“It’s her anger, not mine,” Sunset insisted. “But… it’s in me now. I can feel it… and it feels so familiar to me. The things she feels, Cinder; her anger, her envy, her wrath… they are not alien to my soul.”

“Nor to mine,” Luna said. She smiled wryly when Sunset looked up at her. “You know the story, do you not?”

“Celestia never spoke of it,” Sunset said, lest Princess Luna think that her sister had been in the habit of gossiping about her in her long absence.

“That is not what I asked,” Luna said. “You know the story anyway.”

“You were jealous,” Sunset said. “Filled with resentment and desire for something that Princess Celestia could not give you.” She snorted. “Something else we have in common.”

“Indeed,” Luna murmured, sounding less than entirely proud of the fact. “I know the taste of envy very well, and equally well, I recall what lengths it can drive the desperate.”

“But you were saved,” Sunset said. “You told me, Twilight… Twilight and her friends, they wielded the Elements of Harmony and-”

“Shall I tell you a secret?” Luna asked, her voice a soft conspiratorial whisper. “You seem like the sort of mare who enjoys secrets, though you may not enjoy this one.”

Sunset wasn’t sure if she was being insulted or not. “You can tell me whatever you want to tell me, Princess.”

“The Elements of Harmony may have cleansed me of the outer manifestation of my darkness,” Luna said. “If the circumstances were different, perhaps they would have done the same to you. But the truth is that the darkness inside… it never leaves. Although I might wish that it were otherwise, I fear that you may have to carry this anger that is not yours for the rest of your days, or until time cools the fires that now burn so brightly and with such heat. Just as I must carry the guilt of all that I did in my madness and my folly.”

Sunset stared up at the princess of the moon for a moment, seeking comfort in her face, in her voice, in running the words that she had spoken over and over again in her head. Seeking comfort and finding none. “That… that’s it?” she whispered. Her voice rose, sharpened with anger. “That’s it?! You came all this way to tell me that there is no hope?”

“I did not say ‘no hope,’” Luna said. “I said that there was no easy solution. I am the princess of the moon, not of miracles.”

“You might not have said that there wasn’t any hope, but you certainly implied it!” Sunset snapped. “You saw my dreams, you know what I’m struggling with; how am I supposed to just… to just live with it? I killed my friends, and I enjoyed it!” She sobbed; her whole body was wracked by a shudder of pain as she buried her face in her knee. “Celestia help me, I liked it.”

Sunset felt something settle on her arm. A dark wing, soft and feathery. “Brave heart, Sunset Shimmer,” Luna said. “You are not yet beyond all hope. That you feel such sorrow is cause for joy. Do you think that she whose rage you have stolen would shed tears?”

Sunset didn’t reply. “You said… you said that you carried it with you?”

“Every day,” Luna said. “And every day, when I see the little ponies of Equestria forget, or act as if they have forgotten, that there are once more two diarchs in the realm, I feel it like a pinprick in my heart, a needle of that old jealousy returning once again. But I am on guard against it now and armed against its terrible allure. Arm your soul, be vigilant… and do not let your most potent weapon rust in its scabbard, unused and forgotten.”

“How can my magic help me with this?” Sunset asked.

“I said nothing of any magic,” Luna said, with a hint of reproach. “I had shut myself away long before my fall was complete. I did not talk to the sister whom I did not trust… whom I hated and blamed for all my troubles. I had no one that I could confide in, no one to whom I could unburden myself, no one… no one at all to help me when I was most in need of it. You are not yet so unfortunate, nor will you be unless you bring such a fate upon yourself.”

Sunset couldn’t keep the scepticism out of her voice as she said, “You think I should talk to my team about the fact that I dreamt of murdering them?”

“If you accept the aid of your friends, then they may remain only dreams,” Luna said. “You cannot run from this, Sunset Shimmer; you cannot hide from it in darkness or in light. Sooner or later, you will have to confront it, and when you do… it is never wise to face such things alone. Farewell.”

“Wait!” Sunset cried as Canterlot below her and the Equestrian sky above both began to dissolve into the void. “You’re leaving?”

Luna rose into the air, looking back at Sunset over her shoulder. “Though your dreams are dark, you are not the only pony having nightmares tonight. And I have said all that I could usefully say. Goodbye, Sunset; it may be that we shall meet again.”

“Are you…?” Sunset hesitated, torn between a certain awareness of how childish her request would sound and a desire to ask it anyway. “Are you going to tell Princess Celestia about this? I… I don’t want her to know…” What? I don’t want her to know what’s happened to me? Don’t want her to know what I’m becoming? Don’t want her to know… anything?

Luna stared down at Sunset, and said nothing, and her face conceded nothing.

Then she was gone, and all was plunged into darkness.

Sunset woke up, her eyes snapping open to the light of early morning coming in through the library windows.

Sunset groaned as she sat up, rolling off the bed of books – new books, the ones that she knew could take it; she wasn’t a barbarian – that she had made to sleep up in a secluded corner of the upper level of the library where hardly anyone went. She had to sleep somewhere if she wasn’t going back to the dorm room, and she couldn’t go back to the dorm room. She hesitated to think what Ruby would have thought if she’d seen and heard her tossing and turning in the grip of nightmares.

Ruby. Ruby was the only one that she could think about, the one that Cinder loathed the least. She hated Ruby Rose as she hated everyone, but it wasn’t as visceral as her dislike of Pyrrha, and so, it didn’t send the same surge of anger through Sunset’s veins.

Trust them, Luna had said. Talk to them. Tell them everything. Yeah, like that was going to happen. Perhaps Princess Luna meant well, but she didn’t get how things were in this world. This wasn’t Equestria. People didn’t forgive so easily, and they didn’t take things in their stride the way that ponies did; if she told them the truth… there was no way they wouldn’t turn on her.

“Did you sleep in here? On books?”

“Gah!” Sunset jumped at the sound of Blake’s voice, nearly falling over as she turned to see the faunus girl watching her from the corner of the stack. “What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?” Interfering little animal. Why can’t she leave me alone?

Get out of my head, Cinder!

“I thought I was being pretty loud,” Blake said.

“Trust me, you weren’t,” Sunset said. “What do you want?”

Blake’s amber eyes narrowed. “Did you sleep on books?”

“Only the ones that could take it,” Sunset replied defensively. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for a new bodice ripper.”

“Really?”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Of course not, I’m looking for you.”

“Well, who asked you to?” Sunset demanded. Keep your nose out of my business before I cut it off! Sunset huffed and turned away. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just… thanks for coming to look for me, but you should go.”

There was no sound of Blake going, and as stealthy as she was or could be, Sunset was inclined to attribute that to the fact that she hadn’t actually gone anywhere. The sound of her voice confirmed her suspicions. “Everyone’s worried about you,” Blake said. “The rest of the school is talking about the attack, Yang’s mothering Ruby as though she was in real danger up there, but all that Team Sapphire can talk about is where you are and why you didn’t come home last night.”

Sunset grunted. “So why are you here?”

“Because Pyrrha thinks that you should be given your space if you want it, and Jaune and Ruby don’t know any better than to agree with her.”

“But you do,” Sunset said, still without turning round.

“I know that, with some things, letting them fester only makes them worse,” Blake murmured. “And I know that, if I was in your position, you’d be one of the first to try and help me out of the hole I was in. What happened last night?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You went after Cinder, then she escaped, and you won’t come home? And you expect anybody to believe that nothing happened?” Blake demanded. “Sunset, what’s really-?”

Sunset saw, out of the corner of her eye, Blake reaching for her hand. She pulled away, panic at the thought of Blake discovering the truth in such a way making sweat start to form on her back. She jerked backwards, wheeling to face Blake as she stepped away from her.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, and Cinder’s hate mingled with her own panic to put an edge on her voice like a sword.

Blake couldn’t quite hide her dismay; the drooping of her ears was a dead giveaway. “I washed my hands,” she muttered mulishly.

“It’s not that, I…” Sunset sighed. She would have to tell. She couldn’t… she couldn’t just not explain, and she couldn’t spend the next four years in the library. She would have to tell someone. She would have to tell Blake, since Blake was here. She would have to tell, and then… well, she might have to leave Beacon when she was done talking, but… but at least then her friends would be safe from her.

“I found my semblance last night,” Sunset said. “I unlocked it when I was fighting Cinder.”

Blake stared at her for a moment, as though she was waiting for something else. “Congratulations,” she said, in a soft, dry voice.

The very word was bitter in Sunset’s ears. “It’s not a good thing,” Sunset said. She walked to the balcony and looked down upon the library, empty this early in the morning. Her pony ears drooped down on top of her head. “I have… empathy, you might call it. Or touch telepathy. Or a little of both. If you’d touched my hand… I would have felt everything that you were feeling, seen what you were thinking. Like I did to Cinder.”

“My god,” Blake murmured, dismayed comprehension obvious in her voice.

Sunset gripped the wooden balcony rail tightly with both hands. “I saw her… how she ended up this way. I felt her anger, her rage, the way that she hates everyone and everything and… you all in particular. You know, she really doesn’t like you for going after Torchwick and the White Fang the way you did. And the fact that you survived her attempt to get you arrested just made her even madder.”

“I’m flattered,” Blake said dryly.

“You shouldn’t be; she’s a dangerous person to have it out for you,” Sunset said. She bowed her head. “The things that I see… the things that I feel… they don’t leave me when I break contact. I’ve got it all in me. All that anger towards the people I care about, and on top of all of that, I’ve only got to touch someone to get everything that’s in them dumped on me as well!” Sunset took a deep breath and risked a glance at Blake. “So that’s why I didn’t come home last night. What was I supposed to do?”

“You could have talked to the people who care about you?” Blake suggested as though it was such an obvious thing to do.

“Yeah, because you always do that, don’t you?” Sunset snapped. She cringed. “You see. I get…” She shook her head. “I… it’s so familiar to me.”

“What is?”

“This anger, the rage she carries around with her all the time,” Sunset said. “I’ve felt it too, when I was living in Atlas. It fits into me like I’m a glove and her emotions are the hand the glove was made for. I remember feeling the way that she feels, hating the way that she hates; I remember it so, so well that it… and she hates my friends. She hates them so badly that she wants them all dead, and sometimes, when I think of them now… there’s so much anger… how can you honestly say that I shouldn’t stay away?”

Blake stared at Sunset in silence for a moment. Then, still in silence, she held out her hand.

“What are you doing?” Sunset demanded.

Blake stepped forward and laid her hand out on the wooden rail. “Touch it.”

Sunset glanced between Blake’s face and her hand. “You’ve been listening to me, right?”

Blake nodded. “That’s why I want you to take my hand.”

Sunset hesitated, her hand balling up reflexively at the idea. She didn't want to use her semblance on Blake; she didn't particularly want to use it at all. She hadn't asked for this, or for what it would cost her to use it. She wondered, with slightly bitter thoughts, about why she couldn't have had something like pyrokinesis as her semblance, something that didn't make her hate herself and fear for those closest to her.

She didn't want to use her semblance on Blake, but looking into her eyes and the firm, unyielding set of her expression, it was pretty clear to Sunset that she wasn't going to be able to get away with not using it.

And so, tentatively, gingerly, Sunset touched Blake's proffered and unresisting palm with the tips of her fingers. She felt that same spark jolting through her arm that she had felt when she grabbed hold of Cinder, and she threw her head back as she felt her consciousness thrown forwards out of herself and into-

Blake stood on a dockyard, somewhere Sunset could not place, crouched down and sobbing as a ship sailed away into the distance. A woman, Sunset couldn't get a good read on how old she was, with tiger stripes running down her dark arms, placed a hand upon Blake's shoulder. Sienna Khan, Sunset knew from Blake's memories of this day, this moment; just as she knew that the ship sailing away was carrying Blake's parents to Menagerie so she knew that this was the woman who succeeded Blake's father as leader of the White Fang.

"Your father was a great man, once," Sienna said. "But he was always cautious, and old age has turned that caution into fear. We require boldness now if we are to prevail and win a world for all our brothers and sisters to share in freedom."

Blake climbed to her feet, and wiped away the tears from her eyes. "I understand."

"Do you?" Sienna asked, looking into Blake's eyes. "Do you truly understand what we must do? Or do you remain here as a spy for your father?"

"No!" Blake yelled. "My father's weak, he doesn't get it, he's given up!" She scowled. "I won't ever give up. I want to see us achieve equality, and I won't stop fighting until I do. I belong to the faunus now, and to you."

Sienna Khan smiled, and as she smiled, Sunset couldn't help but think that it was that smile, and not the stripes on her arm, in which she most possessed the aspect of the tiger.

Blake walked down the street; it was the late afternoon, and she was on her way to a meeting. A faunus woman, a dog faunus with terrier ears and dark skin, was coming the other way, pushing a pram in front of her with a little boy inside.

She was walking quickly, her heels clicking rapidly on the stone of the pavement as she walked, and though she was trying to hide it, as she passed, Blake could tell that she was in some distress.

It didn't take Blake long to notice the source of that distress: a human man, bald and slovenly looking, his face – probably never particularly good looking – deformed by odious hostility; he followed her from a distance of about fifteen feet or so. He sounded as though he’d just rolled out of some bar; he kept slurring his words as he yelled at her in a harsh, ugly, nasal voice. "Hey! Hey, I'm talking to you! You're on benefits, aren't you? That's why you had that kid, so you could steal our benefits! Isn't it? You're a thief, and you don't belong here!"

Sunset saw no more distinct memories from Blake, but she felt…she felt anger. A surprising, shocking anger to come from Blake Belladonna, who rarely raised her voice and walked through life with an expression so calm that it was almost placid. But beneath those still waters, it seemed that a raging tempest surged and buffeted, or at least, that it had. Rage against her parents for abandoning the fight and so for abandoning her, rage against the Schnee Dust Company for treating the deaths of innocent faunus struggling to support their families as an acceptable write-off, rage against the four kingdoms for spouting the rhetoric of equality while turning a blind eye to oppression, rage against those who thought that they could taunt and abuse faunus in the street without consequence, rage against the fact that there were no consequences for them more often than not, rage against the fact that innocent women like that mother had to live in fear.

Anger that this was the world they lived in.

Sunset pulled away, clutching her hands together as she looked into Blake's eyes.

"That anger? That's something that every faunus feels or has felt sooner or later," Blake said. "When we're on the receiving end of the injustice of the world, when we see someone else suffering from that injustice, we feel it. It builds up with every callous remark or thoughtless action from those who should know better. It isn't unique to you, and it certainly doesn't belong to Cinder Fall; I don't know what she's gone through in her life, but if she's angry that she wasn't given the life that she wanted or deserved… she can join the line."

Blake pursed her lips together. "No offence, Sunset, but there are times when I think that you want to live your life as though you're the hero in some kind of story; you act like you're unique, the only person in the whole world who does the things that you do, feels the way that you do. And sometimes, I can even see why, but when it comes to this… I'm sorry to say you're just not that special."

“I am absolutely that special, and more,” Sunset replied, bristling as Cinder’s pride mingled with her own. She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

Blake blinked. “When?”

“In your memory,” Sunset said. “The woman being followed down the street. What did you do? It felt as though you wanted to punch the guy.”

“I did; I did want to, I mean,” Blake said. “But the police might have picked up the mother if I had, just for being in the wrong place; I followed them both, discreetly, over the rooftops, to make sure that he didn’t do anything besides run his mouth. After a while, he gave up and… stopped bothering her. She wasn’t hurt, and she and the child got home safe.” Blake folded her arms and leaned against the balcony rail. “When I told Adam – he wanted to know why I was late for a chapter meeting – he told me that I should have killed the man. He told me that he would have, and even then, a long time before he became… or before I realised… I believed him.

“We all feel the same anger, Sunset. We all rage at the injustice of our situation. But we don’t have to let it rule us, and we don’t have to let it make us monsters, like Cinder or Adam. Anger is a consequence of living in this world, but giving in to it is a choice. One I’ve seen too many good people fall prey to; please don’t make the same mistake.”

Sunset shook her head. “You think I want to?”

“I think you’ve overcome your own anger,” Blake said. “Is there any reason why you can’t overcome Cinder’s?”

“But what if I can’t?” Sunset asked quietly. “What if I lose this time, what if… what if I hurt them?” She frowned. “We’re so alike: both orphans; both fallen from grace, cast out from lives of luxury and spoiled indulgence into something much harsher, crueller, colder; both ambitious, envious of those who have what we want. A couple of wrong turns, and I could have become her.”

“But you didn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean that I won’t,” Sunset said. “Especially not since I feel exactly the way that she does; it’s like I’m halfway there already.” And I’ll get there if Cinder has anything to say about it. She didn’t mention that Cinder had tried to get Sunset on her side to Blake; that was a step further than she was willing to admit at this stage.

“I couldn’t bear it if I hurt them,” she said.

Blake was silent for a while. She looked away from Sunset, her golden eyes scanning the empty library beneath them. “Have you ever looked at someone and thought ‘they are the personification of this word’? Have you ever looked at someone and that word just popped into your head whenever you set eyes on them, because even if it didn’t capture every single thing about them… it still got to the heart of that person better than any other word that you could think of?”

Sunset… couldn’t honestly say that she had experienced the phenomenon that Blake was describing, although to hear it described, it made a lot of sense. She said nothing. She just waited, silently, to see where Blake was going with this.

“Living with you, getting to know Team Sapphire,” Blake continued. “I look at Ruby, and I think ‘this girl is the embodiment of courage.’ I can’t think of any situation where she’d hesitate to throw herself into the breach to protect… anyone. She wouldn’t need to like them, she wouldn’t even need to know them, she wouldn’t care how great the danger was-”

“All that she’d need to know was that somebody was in trouble, and she’d be there,” Sunset murmured. “Locked, loaded, and swinging Crescent Rose with wild abandon.” She sighed. “I don’t exactly like that tendency in her, but I can’t deny it either. I just wish that she was the embodiment of caution or self-preservation or something like that.”

Blake chuckled. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Blake repeated. “You might think so, but… but the truth is that if she weren’t the way she is, if she weren’t the embodiment of courage, absolutely unafraid of anything, then she wouldn’t be Ruby Rose. Certainly, she wouldn’t be the Ruby you love.”

Sunset considered that for a moment. She tried to imagine a cautious Ruby, a careful Ruby, a Ruby who gave some sign of valuing her own skin. It was hard to do, very hard, and Blake was right, the result didn’t look much like Ruby Rose. “You may be onto something with this.”

Blake nodded. “I look at Pyrrha, and I see the personification of gentleness.”

“In the old meaning or the new one?”

“Both,” Blake said. “That’s what makes it so apposite.”

Sunset couldn’t argue with that, and so she didn’t. “And Jaune?”

Blake seemed to take a moment to consider Jaune Arc. “Decency.” Blake waited, as if she expected Sunset to ask what word she, Sunset, might be considered to embody. Though her mouth was dry with expectation, Sunset didn’t ask; how much she actually wanted to know depended entirely upon what the answer was.

“And when I look at you,” Blake said, after a moment or two. “I think of the word ‘resolve.’ You keep fighting, and you never give up, and you never turn away from a challenge. That’s what I thought, anyway. I’d hate for you to give up now and prove me wrong.”

Sunset said nothing. Her gaze flickered to Blake and then away again, as her appreciation for Blake’s friendship warred with Cinder’s dislike of the other girl.

“I don’t know what it’s like to have all of Cinder’s feelings inside of you,” Blake said. “But here’s what I do know: Cinder Fall tried to have me arrested and turn the whole school against me, but Sunset Shimmer helped get me out of that trouble and persuade the people who matter to let me come back to Beacon. Cinder Fall has been using the White Fang to wage war against Vale, but Sunset Shimmer helped me fight back and try to stop the fall of a movement that used to stand for something real and important. Cinder Fall went to the tower last night to do damage; Sunset Shimmer went to help a friend in trouble. Cinder Fall might hate Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby and even me… but Sunset cares about all of us. I believe, no, I know that to be true. You may be alike in some ways, but you could say that about you and Pyrrha; you could even say it about you and me!

“Adam and I are a lot alike too. We both feel the same anger at what has been done to our people, but the difference is that I don’t let my anger destroy who I am… or at least, I hope I don’t,” Blake said. “That’s the point: the difference is as important as the likeness. You both want to be recognised, fine, but you want to shine over the world, and Cinder wants to tear it all down. Your families, your feelings… none of it changes the fact that you’re a good person, and she isn’t… and none of it changes the fact that you have three friends who want to help you if you’ll let them.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Four.”

“Huh?”

“The way I see it, I have four friends who want to help me,” Sunset said.

Blake blushed a little as her cat ears perked up a bit. “Well… I don’t know if… I thought I should try. Did it help?”

Sunset nodded. “You… you make a lot of sense. It’s not gone, but… but you’re right; I can’t hide from it, and I can’t let her win by letting her emotions rule me. She’s not going to get the best of me that easily.”

Blake nodded. “Resolve.”

“I have to live up to your expectations, now that you’ve said it,” Sunset said. She stepped back from the rail. “They’ll understand, won’t they?”

“I don’t doubt it,” Blake said.

Sunset found that, if she could take a step back from Cinder’s thoughts, if she could fight her way through the fog of another girl’s anger and hatred, she didn’t really doubt it either.

And let’s face it, if she wanted to control her semblance so that she could touch people without finding out everything about them, she could do a lot worse than talk to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha. Sunset flinched at the anger that flared within her at the thought of Pyrrha, the spoiled-

No. No, she was going to fight this. She had to fight this. She wasn’t going to let Cinder win. She was going to embody resolve and rise above this as she had risen above all other obstacles.

Pyrrha whom she hated. Pyrrha who had everything she wanted. Pyrrha, who understood Sunset better than anyone else. Pyrrha, whom Sunset could talk to as an equal and trust as an equal.

Pyrrha whom she wanted dead. Pyrrha who was so overrated. Pyrrha who had worked her ass off to become strong just as Sunset had. Pyrrha whom she loved.

Pyrrha whom they all loved so well. Pyrrha she wanted to protect.

Pyrrha her enemy.

Pyrrha her teammate.

Pyrrha her friend.

Pyrrha her friend.

Pyrrha her friend. Sunset breathed in and out. Pyrrha her friend. She had to focus on that, focus as much as she had ever focussed on a complex magical spell. Focus on the feelings that were hers and leave the thoughts of Cinder Fall to wither on the vine.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked, concern evident in her voice.

Sunset took a deep breath. “I’m not fine,” she said. “But I am better. Come on, let’s go.”

With Blake at her side, Sunset began to head home.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Not much change here, really.

The Day After: Ironwood (Rewritten)

The Day After: Ironwood

“They were here,” Ironwood growled, slamming his fist onto the table in a bid to get through to the old man who sat behind his desk looking more exasperated by Ironwood’s behaviour than he seemed at all concerned about the disaster that had very nearly unfolded last night. “Ozpin, they were right here!”

“We’re very much aware of that, James,” Glynda hissed, possibly to distract Ironwood from the fact that Ozpin had just put his head in his hands as though Ironwood was giving him a headache.

Ironwood was starting to think that they both deserved a lot more than a headache from having someone shout in their ear.

“I’ve known Twilight Sparkle since she was a little girl, and last night I nearly had to tell her parents that she was never coming home,” Ironwood snapped, venting his anger into Glynda’s face. She might not have deserved it, it might be that he was overreacting to her remark, but there was a part of him that needed to vent at somebody, even if she wasn’t a particularly deserving target of his wrath. When he thought of what could have happened last night if Twilight hadn’t had the presence of mind to call Rainbow Dash for help: Twilight dead, the CCT potentially compromised, the identity of the mole lost. They had stood on the knife’s edge last night and it was only thanks to Twilight Sparkle that they had fallen onto the right side. The enemy had come close last night, too close; did they even realise just how close they had come to landing a crippling blow? “I have eleven men dead; good men, soldiers of Atlas; I have another seven in the infirmary and some of them might not make it unless their luck turns. So don’t talk to me as though I’m making a mountain out of nothing! Salem put four agents right in the heart of Beacon under our very noses and we never saw it coming. Haven students! What’s Leo even doing out there that he let this happen?”

“Running Haven Academy, one would hope,” Ozpin sighed. He lifted his head out of his hands. “Although I do concede that it is troubling that Salem was able to insert Miss Fall and her team so easily, and that they were able to gain Leo’s complete trust as they did.”

Ironwood clenched his jaw. “What does he have to say for himself?”

“I don’t know,” Ozpin admitted. “Leo hasn’t reported in for some time.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you asked him why that is,” Ironwood said. He took a deep breath, and made a conscious effort to master his emotions. If Ozpin dismissed him and anything he had to say because he thought that Ironwood was acting too emotionally, too irrationally, then that wouldn’t help their cause one bit. If being calm was what was needed to convince Ozpin then he would try to be calm. Anything to make the old man see.

“I have served you faithfully for many years,” Ironwood said, leaning on the desk so that his face was closer to Ozpin’s. “I’ve risked my career, even my life, because I believed in you and in what we were doing for the good of the world.” He sighed. “I still believe in what we’re doing.” He let that, and the implicit words he had not spoken, hang in the air for a while. “But we can’t just sit on the rocks in Beacon or Atlas and watch as the tide rises around us until the world is under water! And if Leo has betrayed us then don’t we need to know about it sooner than late?”

Ozpin stared at him for a moment. Ironwood didn’t know whether it was because the two of them were so close to one another or because he was more cognisant now of Ozpin’s faults, but he would swear that he had never seen him look so old before.

He looked away, as a deep sigh of regret escaped him. “Raven… now Leo, too? Am I so poor at choosing those in whom to place my trust?”

“I hope not,” Glynda said. “You trusted us, after all.”

Ozpin’s lips quirked upwards in a smile. “Thank you, Glynda.” He pulled his scroll out of his pocket. “I accept that there is some force in what you say, James. Perhaps we should find out what Leo has to say about all of this.”

“Would you like us to go, professor?” Glinda asked.

For himself, Ironwood had no intention of going anywhere until he heard Leo’s explanation – and it had better be a damn good one – so he was glad when Ozpin shook his head and made it superfluous to need to argue the point. “No, you can both stay. You might as well hear this.”

He opened his scroll and placed it face up upon the transparent surface of his desk. With one hand, Ozpin played with some of the buttons, and a holographic interface burst out from the scroll into the air above the desk. At first it was a hologram of nothing, just the three-dimensional equivalent of static, but after a few moments – moments in which Ironwood and Glinda walked around the desk so that they were standing behind Ozpin and all facing the same direction - it resolved itself into an image of Leonardo Lionheart rendered in blue-green, looking out at them.

“Ozpin!” he cried. “This, uh, this is a pleasant surprise. James, Glynda, it’s really been too long since we’ve last spoken.”

“It certainly has,” Ironwood growled.

“It’s good to see you too, Leo, and to hear your voice,” Ozpin declared affably, as though there weren’t serious questions to be asked over some of Leo’s recent decision-making.

“Indeed. We’re almost all here,” Leo said jovially. “I’m a little surprised Qrow isn’t there too.” He looked over his shoulder, as though he half-expected Qrow Branwen to start tapping on the window of his office in Mistral asking to be let in.

“At the moment Qrow is still on a mission,” Ozpin said. “He’s out of contact, even more than you.”

Leo’s eyes bulged. “I haven’t reported to you because I have nothing to report!” he squawked indignantly. “We’re both busy men, I didn’t think that you’d want me to call you up every week just to tell you that all is well and quiet in Mistral.”

“Nothing to report?” Ironwood demanded, clenching his robotic hand into a fist as he leaned over Ozpin’s shoulder. “What about Cinder Fall, do you have anything to report there?”

“Cinder Fall,” Leo murmured.

“Cinder Fall attacked the CCT here in Beacon last night,” Ozpin said. “A number of Atlesian soldiers were killed or wounded. Later, Miss Fall’s team-mates fled before they could be questioned which, I’m sure you will agree, strongly suggests that they were involved in some way. In addition, there is some evidence linking Miss Fall to the recent upsurge in White Fang activities here in Vale.”

“My gods,” Leo said. “Was any damage done?”

“My men are dead, weren’t you listening?” Ironwood snapped, barely resisting the urge to punch Leo through the hologram. “And a young girl of great importance to Atlas – and to me – nearly joined them. And all because-“

“James, please,” Ozpin said, holding up one hand for calm.

Ironwood clenched his jaw and backed off with great reluctance. He turned his back, and walked towards the emerald-tinted windows of Ozpin’s office.

The old man didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand why this had Ironwood so frustrated. Ozpin was an intelligent man, a great man, but he sat up here in this tower like a grey-haired spider and he spun his webs across Remnant, grooming his teams of huntsmen and huntresses and sending them out to fight and die in the battle against Salem and her forces. He didn’t have friends, and Ironwood was under no illusions that even those closest to him like Glynda and himself were truly in his confidence. He approached his war like a game of chess, moving his white knights and pawns across the board to keep the blacks at bay and guard the four white queens who held the key to the entire game.

Ironwood wasn’t like that. He was Twilight’s godfather, her father had been his XO, he’d personally handpicked Rainbow Dash to lead Team RSPT because he’d gotten to know her well enough to put his trust in her; these weren’t chess pieces to him, they were people, people who looked up to him, people who sought his approval, people who put their lives in his hands because they trusted him without reservation.

Even if it was for the good of the world, it pained him that he wasn’t fully worthy of their trust, that he sullied it with lies and half-truths and omissions.

And even if it was for the good of the world, he couldn’t just send them to their deaths without it weighing on his soul.

If the old man could, well… Ironwood wasn’t sure which of them was the lucky one.

“As I hope you can see, Leo,” Ozpin continued. “It appears that Miss Fall was our enemy from at least the moment that she entered Haven Academy, and although we have no direct evidence linking her to our true foe, it seems unlikely that they could be completely unconnected. She may even be the woman who attacked Autumn and stole a part of her power.”

Leo laughed nervously. “Ozpin, with all due respect, some of that is pure conjecture.” His face fell. “But that’s not why you called me, is it? You… you think I’m involved in some way? After all that I have done-“

“Calm down, Leo,” Glynda said. “Nobody is accusing you of anything.”

“I think that James would like to, wouldn’t you James?”

Ironwood turned and walked back towards the hologram. “I’d certainly appreciate some answers.”

“Leo,” Ozpin said, calmly but firmly. “We’ve spoken to Mister Arc, Miss Nikos and Miss Rose.” They would have spoken to Miss Shimmer, too, but she had absented herself and nobody knew exactly where she was. “They both told exactly the same story: that you introduced Miss Fall to all four members of Team Sapphire, as one of your top students while at a party in Mistral during the spring vacation.”

“You’re taking the word of three first-year students against me? After everything-“

“This is not about taking anyone’s word over yours, this isn’t about apportioning blame, this is about getting to the truth,” Ozpin declared, sounding a little testy at this point. “Your relationship with Miss Fall-“

“Yes, I took an interest in Cinder Fall,” Leo declared. “Do you know why? It’s not because I’m a traitor or a servant of Salem! It’s because she was especially talented and I was desperate. If she really did attack the tower and kill James’ soldiers-“

“If?” Ironwood snapped.

“Then you must understand how good she is; how swift, how strong; probably a match for Pyrrha, or close to it. Ozpin, I don’t think you understand the kind of pressure that I’m under here. You gave me this position but since then you’ve continually poached the best and brightest of Sanctum’s graduates and left me and Haven to make do with the residue that you didn’t want.”

And what does that have to do with anything? Ironwood thought. It wasn’t that Leo was entirely wrong – Ozpin did take the best students who might otherwise have gone to Atlas, Haven or Shade. He tried to, at least, but Ironwood liked to think that he’d gotten pretty good at defending his turf and keeping the students that he wanted at Atlas where he wanted them - he’d lost Weiss Schnee, which was disappointing, but he was inclined to blame that at least partly on her father; if Leo hadn’t learned to do the same that was no excuse for letting traitors and enemies into their midst.

“You’re exaggerating,” Glynda said. “Professor Ozpin only encourages a select few students that have the potential to be valuable assets to our cause to attend Beacon instead of any other huntsman academy.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since Haven last had a Vytal Festival champion?” Leo demanded. “Mistral invented the arena, and the kingdom’s tradition of heroic combat stretching back into days of myth and legend is a source of great pride. It grieves them to see that tradition faltering in the modern day, outdone by kingdoms with no such heritage, and I am the one they blame for it! People think I’m incompetent, and because I’m a faunus they think they have a right to tell me so my face. I have to listen to the likes of Lady Nikos sneer at my record while Mistral-born huntsmen win honours for Beacon and Vale, for you! Pyrrha was supposed to turn things around for us, with her at the forefront this year was going to be our year, but then you had to go and take her too! At this rate the council is going to vote to dismiss me and then what use will I be to you or our enterprise? I saw a talented fighter with the potential to put Haven back on the map and I grabbed that opportunity with both hands. Did I look closely into who she was or where she and the rest of her team came from? No. Should I have? Well, perhaps, but I had no other choice but to do as I did. You left me no other choice, Ozpin. Do you want me to remain in post to serve you here or not?”

So your defence is incompetence? Ironwood attempted to keep the contempt he felt off his face and out of his body language. Are you any more use in that case then if you were a traitor? All your justifications can’t obscure the fact that you let our enemies into the heart of our defences and only blind luck prevented them from doing incalculable damage.

Do you actually have a reason why we should still trust you?

“No one wants to see you dismissed from your office,” Ozpin said, with surprising geniality in his tone. “I merely wanted to get my facts straight. Thank you for being so honest with me, Leo. I hope you understand that I need to give this matter a great deal of thought. Goodbye. Please try to keep in touch in future.”

Leo sighed. He looked as though he was sweating. “Goodbye, Ozpin. Glynda, James. Until next time.”

“Quite,” Ozpin said, before he hung up.

“Do you trust him?” Ironwood demanded. “Do you believe everything that he said? Do you believe anything that he said?”

“I… have sometimes been overzealous in my desire to have the best talent in Remnant here at Beacon, where I could better evaluate them,” Ozpin confessed.

“That doesn’t excuse leaving Mistral completely undefended,” Ironwood said. “I left-”

“Not everyone has an oversized army,” Glynda pointed out.

“I admit that there remain some unanswered questions,” Ozpin said. “Questions that we may never be able to fully answer unless, by some happy accident, we are able to capture and interrogate Miss Fall. But I am not willing to condemn a man who pledged his loyalty and service to me without further proof than I currently possess.”

And what about my loyalty and service? Ironwood wanted to ask. He huffed. “So we do nothing?”

“What can we do at this point, James?” Ozpin asked. “Miss Fall is in the wind, possibly she has fled to join her allies of the White Fang but we don’t know where they are either. What can we do but wait, and be ready for her next move when it comes? What would you have me do?”

Ironwood was silent for a moment, because as much as he didn’t like it the old man had a point. He had a fleet and an army but no target against which to turn either of them.

He resolved to have another crack at Torchwick; perhaps having his boss uncovered and forced into hiding would make him more willing to talk.

It was about all they had to go on at this stage.

Ironwood clasped his hands behind his back. “We need to do something about Twilight.”

“Your student?” Glinda asked. “What do you mean?”

“Although the data from her trace looks like it was wiped, Twilight saw it,” Ironwood said. “Cinder routed her mail outing Blake Belladonna as part of the White Fang through Drachyra. You can understand why she thinks that’s important.”

The price of keeping secrets from the world: the members of Ozpin’s inner circle all knew that Salem had her fortress somewhere on the grimm-infested dragon continent, but as far as the rest of Remnant was concerned it was simply grimm-infested, and so to Twilight the fact that someone – the White Fang, a nebulous human terrorist organisation, somebody – might have operations there was something worthy of investigation; and Ironwood couldn’t simply tell her that, in his opinion, it wasn’t because, to be frank, if he hadn’t know what he knew he would absolutely think it worthy of investigation.

Ozpin closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “We cannot beard her in her den, James. She is too ancient, too powerful and her grimm there are too numerous. You could not force your way through to the gates of her dark fortress with all the strength of the Atlesian military nor could you defeat her when or if you got there.” He bowed his head, once more looking far older and wearier than was generally the case. Ironwood couldn’t be entirely sure what he was thinking about, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Ozpin’s thoughts were turning to Team STRQ and to the failure of their strike eighteen years ago.

That was the moment when we stopped trying to do anything but hold the line. That was the moment when we handed her the initiative, and we’ve never gotten it back.

“I know,” Ironwood said. “But Twilight Sparkle doesn’t. So what do I tell her?”

“Tell her you’ll take it to the Council,” Ozpin said.

“I have two seats on the council,” Ironwood reminded him. “And Twilight’s sister-in-law holds another. If I tell her that I’m going to take it to the Council then I’d better do it or she’ll find out that I haven’t, and if I do take it to the Council then… her family has influence, the Council may agree that this is something that we need to investigate. Especially if I back it, which I’d have a hard time not doing.”

“Because of your position, or simply because you like this girl?” Glynda asked.

“Because her trust is important to me,” Ironwood said.

Ozpin opened his eyes. “I hope that you have a suggestion of your own to make, James.”

“As it happens, I do,” Ironwood said. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that his suggestion would not be popular. “I want to bring her in.”

“You want what?” Glynda demanded.

“And not just Twilight, but Rainbow Dash as well,” Ironwood continued. “Perhaps Miss Nikos too, and Miss Shimmer if she can be found, although your students, your call.”

“How very generous of you,” Glynda muttered.

“If you want Pyrrha Nikos to be your guardian then we’re going to have to trust her at some point,” Ironwood said. “And none of us are going to be here forever, or even in our posts forever. At what point do we put our trust in the new generation to carry on this fight after us?”

“When they’re a little older than seventeen or eighteen,” Glynda said.

“None of us were that much older when Ozpin brought us in,” Ironwood replied. “If we were any older at all. Twilight has one of the brightest minds in the history of Atlas; Rainbow Dash is one of the bravest soldiers I’ve ever seen; frankly, these are the people we need to fight this war and the kind of people in whose hands I could feel comfortable placing the world when we’re all gone.” He took a step towards Ozpin. “We don’t have to tell them everything right now, but let me tell them something. Let me give them at least a peak behind the curtain and I swear to you, you won’t regret it.”

“We’ve thought that before,” Glynda murmured. “This is information to break the greatest of paragons.”

“No,” Ozpin sighed. “The greatest of paragons died faithful to the last.” He closed his eyes. “I am not so naïve as to think that… if I tell Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos, they will not keep it from Miss Rose. Is this what Summer would have wanted?”

“Even if Summer were here, she wouldn’t get to make that choice,” Ironwood said. “Not on behalf of her daughter.”

“It is too soon,” Glynda insisted. “They are too young, still, too unseasoned. Team Stark were a year older-“

“She’s moving more quickly now,” Ironwood insisted. “We have to-“

“Give her more servants? Terrify more children into betraying us?” Glynda demanded.

“I know my people,” Ironwood declared.

“I thought that I knew Raven!” Glynda snapped. “We all did!”

“Raven Branwen was a bandit from a line of murderers and thieves,” Ironwood was nearly shouting now. “The surprise isn’t that Raven quit, the astonishing thing is that Qrow didn’t… much as I hate to credit him with anything.” He paused for a moment. “Rainbow Dash isn’t Raven,” he said. “She doesn’t have somewhere to run, she has something to protect, and I could probably say the same of Miss Nikos-“

“But not of Miss Shimmer, I fear,” Ozpin said, his voice thin and weary. “Miss Shimmer has great potential, but… but, as Glynda reminds me, Raven had great potential, too.” He hesitated. “But… but perhaps James is right. Perhaps events are moving too swiftly for caution. She is on the move, and we must match her somehow, set our agents against hers.”

“You won’t regret this,” Ironwood said forcefully. “They’re made of the right stuff, Oz, I’ll stake my reputation on it.”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Glynda reminded him.

“I know,” Ironwood said. “And I do it without fear.”

“Without fear?” Glynda repeated. “None at all.”

Ironwood frowned. “I fear for them,” he admitted. “I know what I’m getting them into, what I’m asking you to ask of them. But I have no fear, none at all, that they’ll let me down.”

Ozpin looked at him, his thoughts concealed behind his inscrutable eyes, and said nothing.

Until, at length, he spoke.

“Very well,” he said. “Let us open their eyes… and pray that we are better judges of character than once we were.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Again, not much in the way of change here.

Pure (Rewritten)

Pure

Sunset hesitated outside the SAPR dorm room. Her scroll was in her hand to unlock the door, but she paused, dithering over actually doing it. She glanced at Blake as her free hand balled up.

“You’re going to stay with me, right?”

Blake had a slight smile playing across her face as she nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right, that’s… that’s good to hear,” Sunset said. She took a deep breath. And then another. She could do this. It was just walking through a door.

I am Sunset Shimmer; I have crossed worlds and universes and chased my fate across the world; I have walked through more imposing doors than this.

So why does it feel as though I’m about to be called out on the carpet by Princess Celestia?

Is this Cinder’s nervousness?

No. That would be too lucky. Cinder doesn’t get nervous.

Or does she?

It occurred to Sunset that while Cinder might not want to think that she got nervous, Ashley had certainly gotten nervous in the past. Maybe, just maybe, it was a touch of Cinder’s apprehension that she was feeling at the thought of confronting her friends.

After all, if Sunset could feel Cinder’s hatred of Pyrrha, why wouldn’t she also feel Cinder’s fear at the idea of confronting Pyrrha and Ruby together, head on?

Or Sunset herself was just afraid of telling them everything, but it made her feel better to detach herself from that particular unheroic emotion and pretend – and who was to say that she was definitely pretending? It might be true – that this wasn’t her but another instance of Cinder’s invasion of her soul.

Especially when that enabled Sunset to tell herself that Cinder was scared of a fight.

And she, Sunset Shimmer, wasn’t afraid of anything.

She flashed her scroll in front of the door, and it unlocked with a click.

The dorm room was as silent as a mausoleum as Sunset stepped inside and-

“Sunset!”

Sunset stopped, almost knocked over onto her backside as Ruby ran into her, wrapping both her arms around Sunset’s chest.

“You came back!” Ruby yelled. She looked up into Sunset’s face. “Where have you been? We were all so worried about you!”

Sunset made an awkward noise out of the back of her throat as she awkwardly tried to envelop Ruby without touching her with her hands, which meant that she was sort of flailing about with her arms and using her elbows to pat Ruby on the head. It was all very… 'awkward' was the word that summed the whole thing up best, really.

She looked over Ruby’s head. Jaune looked relieved but at the same time wasn’t making any effort to hide his curiosity. Pyrrha’s arms were folded, but she had a fond smile upon her face.

“Uh, Ruby,” Pyrrha said. “Perhaps you’d better give Sunset a little space.”

“Oh, right,” Ruby said, hastily releasing Sunset and backing away. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Sunset said, as she was able to make enough space for Blake to enter the room and close the door behind the two of them. Sunset sidled over to her bed but didn’t sit down on it. She clasped her hands together behind her back. “That’s my job right now, I think.”

Ruby laughed nervously. Pyrrha looked away for a moment. “Well, I can’t deny that we’d certainly like to know what happened last night… but it feels fair to admit that you aren’t the only one who feels at fault. I should have gone with you.”

“We both should have,” Jaune said. “If we’d gone with you, then maybe… maybe things would have been different, and that’s on us.”

“I’ve been trying to tell them that it wouldn’t have made any difference if they had come, or even if Blake had come too,” Ruby said. “That’s right, isn’t it? Cinder ran off as soon as she realised how outnumbered she was, and she would have done the exact same thing if Pyrrha and Jaune were there.”

“Definitely,” Sunset said. “She wasn’t going to stick around for a fight with two more fighters to go up against.” She considered the possibility that Cinder’s rage against Pyrrha – the rage that she could feel simmering inside her just by being this close to Pyrrha, the rage that she was having to keep a lid on and hope that it didn’t boil over – might have driven her to try and take her out when the chance presented itself, but she dismissed the idea as swiftly as it had formed in her head. Cinder Fall was a lot of things, most of them bad, but she wasn’t stupid. Not even her desire to murder Pyrrha would prompt her to fight a hopeless battle against unwinnable odds.

Despite her dislike for the champion of Mistral and everything she represented, Cinder was still cognisant of Pyrrha’s reputation. Her presence would only have made Cinder get out of there even faster.

Ruby nodded briskly. “And then Sunset would still have gone after her and then…” She trailed off, looking a little guilty for having brought the situation back to the ‘and then.’ “I mean, uh…”

“What happened last night?” Jaune asked. “Why didn’t you come back? Where were you?”

“In the library,” Sunset admitted.

Jaune frowned. “After lights out?”

“She slept on some books,” Blake said disapprovingly.

“New books,” Sunset stressed. “Books that I knew could stand up to it. Besides, it’s not like I’m heavy.”

“But… why?” Jaune demanded. “I mean there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sunset said, risking a slight smile.

Judging by the expressions on the faces of her teammates, they weren’t in much of a mood for levity.

Sunset huffed. There was no getting away from this, was there?

Well, no, of course not, you idiot. Did you think that you could come back here and you wouldn’t have to tell them?

But Blake was okay with it, so they will be too.

Sunset glanced at Blake, who gave her a barely perceptible nod by way of reassurance.

You are Sunset Shimmer, and you can do this.

You told them about your magic; you can tell them this.

You are Sunset Shimmer, and these are your friends.

She clasped her hands tighter together behind her back. “As Ruby has probably told you,” she said, “Cinder fled the tower, and I teleported after her.”

“How did she get down from the tower?” Jaune asked. “I mean, aura and all, but that’s a long way to fall. Did she have a landing strategy?”

“You could say that,” Sunset said. “She flew.”

“What?” Jaune exclaimed.

“Is that her semblance?” Pyrrha asked.

“If flying is her semblance, then how is she stopping bullets with one hand?” Ruby said.

“That could just be theatrics to cover up the fact that all those hits are draining her aura away,” Pyrrha suggested. “I’ve taken part in a few blind tournaments – tournaments where only the referee can see the aura levels of the combatants – where some contestants tried to cover up the fact that they were using aura through flamboyant displays or misdirection; Cinder’s hand motions could be in the same line.”

Blake coughed into one hand, and with the other, gestured towards Sunset.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “Please go on, Sunset.”

“I fought Cinder,” Sunset said. “I… I was holding my own, I suppose.” It was hard to remember how the fight had been going before she activated her semblance because of everything that had happened after that. “I… I wanted to know how she could do it. How she could betray us, betray the world, betray everything that huntresses are supposed to stand for. I liked her, you know? I… I like her a lot. I thought we were so alike.”

“Personally, I’m afraid I can’t say that I ever saw it,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset blinked. “Really?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “You… you had your moments, but you were always quite open about how you felt, even if your expression of those feelings was… sometimes rather obnoxious. You were never snide, and I never felt as though your words had double meanings. Cinder… I always felt as though there was something I couldn’t trust about her.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “You… I… thanks.”

Pyrrha looked a little confused. “For what?”

“You’ll understand soon, I think,” Sunset replied. “I was fighting Cinder, but while we were fighting, I kept asking her, demanding that she tell me why, why she’d done this. I just wanted to know how she could do it. I wanted to know how someone so like me – someone who I thought was so like me, even if some of you don’t agree – could do something like that. And that… it seems to have activated my semblance.”

“Really?” Ruby squeaked. “Is that what you were upset about? Wait, why would you be upset about that? Activating your semblance is awesome!”

“It is when you have an awesome semblance like super speed,” Sunset said. “My semblance is… not so great.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment before Jaune said, “Would you like us to guess?”

“Right, right,” Sunset said. “I… I’m not entirely sure what to call it. It’s like a combination of empathy-”

Ruby gasped. “You mean you can turn off electricity and deactivate robots?”

Sunset looked at her flatly. “No, Ruby, that’s EMP, and that would actually be cool to be able to do. Empathy is… feelings and stuff.”

“Your semblance is… feelings and stuff?” Ruby asked, sounding surprised and disappointed at the same time.

“If you’ll let me finish,” Sunset snapped, causing a crestfallen look to descend on Ruby’s face. She sighed and groaned at the same time. “Sorry, I just… this isn’t all me, but I can’t escape the blame for it. My semblance is a combination of empathy and touch telepathy. When I touched Cinder’s arm... I saw her past. I know who she is now. I asked how she could turn out this way…and then I found out.”

For a moment, none of them said anything. Then Jaune let out a soft, “Woah. Really?”

Sunset nodded and sat down on the bed with her hands resting between her knees. “I didn’t see absolutely everything. I didn’t see anything about who she might be working for, I didn’t see what she’s planning… but I saw her childhood, I saw the things that happened to her. I saw what took a good, sweet kid and turned her into a monster.”

She stopped, the words dying in her throat.

“Sunset?” Jaune asked.

“I… I’m not sure if I ought to tell you,” Sunset admitted. “It feels… it feels a little like betraying her.”

“You just said that she betrayed humanity,” Ruby reminded her. “Betrayed everything that being a huntress is about.”

“Does that mean it’s okay for me to betray her secrets?” Sunset asked. After all, just because we’re enemies doesn’t mean that we’re not friends.

And yet, Ruby’s response, lacking in sympathy as it was, made her think that perhaps betraying – some – of Cinder’s secrets might be the lesser of two evils. After all, it was clear that no one was particularly inclined to cut Cinder any slack as things stood, but perhaps once they had heard her story, they would look more kindly on her, they would understand a little better.

Perhaps, if they heard the truth, they would feel the way that Sunset did.

Without all the anger and hatred and desire to kill.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Cinder’s mother was an Atlesian pilot, in Argus. One day… one day, she didn’t come home from a mission.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Ruby declared.

“I’m not finished yet!” Sunset snapped. She shook her head. “Sorry, I… I haven’t finished. In fact, I’ve hardly begun. Cinder’s father decided that it would be for the best – best for him, anyway – to move away from Argus and the unpleasant memories. And so he took his little girl back to Mistral, where he’d come from. He was a kind and devoted father, as well as Cinder could recall anyway, but… I suppose he must have felt that she needed a mother’s care. And so he married again, choosing, for his second wife…” – she looked at Pyrrha – “Lady Clytemnestra Kommenos.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “'Kommenos'? Phoebe’s mother?” She gasped. “Cinder was the stepsister?”

“You knew that Phoebe had a stepsister?” Sunset replied. “But you didn’t recognise Cinder?”

“I never met Phoebe’s stepsister,” Pyrrha told her. “Everyone… most of what I’m about to tell you has been told to me after the fact, I must confess. I was only a girl at the time; the only thing I really understood about Phoebe Kommenos was that she was my opponent… and not really on my level.”

“I’m afraid you did Cinder no favours with your prowess,” Sunset muttered. “After her defeats… Phoebe used to take her humiliation out on Cinder.”

Pyrrha frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I… I’d rather not say,” Sunset said. “I didn’t want to see it, and I certainly don’t want to repeat it.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “So… it was true.”

Sunset stared at her. “You knew,” she whispered. “People knew.”

“Nobody knew anything,” Pyrrha insisted. “But… there have been rumours about Phoebe for several years, and amongst them… my mother says that Lady Kommenos married beneath her socially, the second time, but that her second husband’s wealth made up for it. When her second husband died, the Kommenos’ step-daughter withdrew completely from society. Lady Kommenos was well known, Phoebe competed in tournaments, but their stepsister… I don’t even remember her name; certainly, I do not recognise the name of Cinder Fall.”

Sunset said nothing. Cinder’s old name, the name of the little girl who had suffered under Phoebe’s cruelty, that was something she would not divulge. That was a secret that was not hers to reveal.

“A girl who was never seen,” Pyrrha went on, “who was always said to be ill, who might as well have been a ghost? Of course there were rumours.”

“'Rumours,'” Sunset repeated in a voice as sharp as Soteria’s edge. “Rumours. People talked about it, they whispered about it, they guessed what was happening to Cinder inside that house, and they did nothing! Celestia! No wonder she’s so angry!”

“What was anyone supposed to do?” Pyrrha asked.

“I don’t know, rescue her?” Sunset suggested acidly. “Gotten her out of that damn house? Fought for those who could not fight for themselves?”

“It’s not that simple,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Why not?” Sunset demanded.

“You know why,” Pyrrha cried. Her bosom heaved. “You have been to Mistral, you have stood in the company of the high, you know why.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Because the Kommenos family was well born, and wealthy too, so they could do as they pleased, and none dared challenge them.” She scowled. “No one even wanted to, did they?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha confessed. “I was too young to know.”

Sunset shook her head in disgust. “So much for the glory of Mistral,” she muttered, and in that moment, she felt in tune with Cinder’s hatred of the place, her feelings resonating with Sunset’s own. They had known. They had all known, or at the least had strong suspicions, and yet… and yet nobody had cared enough to do anything about it. None of them.

If that was the world they lived in, then let it burn.

Sunset scowled. No. No, that was too much, too angry, too wild and scattershot and too unjust in turn. Condemn, yes, but not punish.

Yes, wag your finger at them and then leave them free to abandon the next victim.

Or instead make so many other victims of those innocent of all part in this? Pyrrha was too young to know what was going on.

When she is older, she will turn away just as they did.

No, she won’t; she isn’t like that.

They’re all like that!

SHUT UP!

“Sunset?” Jaune asked anxiously.

Sunset blinked rapidly. “Sorry, um… what was I saying?”

“You weren’t,” Blake observed.

“But, I have a question,” Jaune said, raising his hand tentatively.

“You don’t have to put your hand up,” Sunset told him.

“Right,” Jaune said, but kept his hand up. “So, Cinder and Phoebe are stepsisters, and Phoebe… yeah. Is that why Cinder kept it to herself?”

“I think Cinder wanted to keep her past mysterious,” Sunset replied. “But… yes, that’s one of the reasons.” She didn’t mention what she’d seen outside the ice cream parlour, the way that Cinder had frozen up with terror in Phoebe’s presence. She wouldn’t humiliate Cinder like that, make her out to be even more of a victim.

She got the impression that Cinder wouldn’t appreciate that.

“And is that why Phoebe didn’t mention it either?” Jaune asked. “Because she was afraid that people would find out what she did?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I don’t think she has to worry about that,” she added, with a glance at Pyrrha that the latter did not deserve. “No, I think the reason that she didn’t mention it is that she didn’t recognise Cinder.”

“How could she not recognise her own sister?”

“Stepsister,” Sunset clarified. “And-”

“She believes that her stepsister is dead,” Pyrrha murmured. “As did everyone. There was a fire, in the year that Phoebe first went to Atlas; all the rest of her family burned to death, or… or so it was believed. When Phoebe came home for the funeral, she seemed… so upset. I… actually felt sorry for her, at the time.”

“Whatever she did, whatever kind of person she was, she did lose her mother and sister,” Jaune said. “If that happened to me, I… I mean I haven’t spoken to my Mom since I left for Beacon, but… if I found out that she’d died, that any of my sisters had… I… I’d just… God, I can’t even…” The very idea was apparently enough to leave him looking downcast and disheartened, and he started to half lean, half sit down on the nearest desk.

Sunset looked away. “Obviously, Cinder didn’t burn to death,” she said. “In fact… she’s the one who set the fire.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “As far as I recall, there was no suggestion of arson.”

“Then she was good at covering her tracks,” Sunset replied. “But she did it.” She did not add that she could hardly blame her. “That… that’s the last memory that I saw; after that, she… she was able to throw me out somehow, break our connection.”

“I must say, it seems quite enough,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Mhm,” Blake agreed. “So, what are you going to do?”

“About what?” Sunset asked, genuinely curious as to what Blake meant.

“About Phoebe Kommenos?” Blake demanded. “She abused her stepsister; she can’t just be allowed to get away with that-”

“Has she not already gotten away with it?” Sunset replied. “In Atlas, she is considered a model student, and no one ever punished her for what she did.”

“Yet,” Blake added.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that that could change,” Blake declared. “You know the truth, you what she did, you could tell General Ironwood-”

“That my newly activated semblance enabled me to see into the soul of our enemy?” Sunset asked. “Lest you forget, as far as the world is concerned, I already have a semblance.”

“I am sure the General would keep your confidence,” Blake said.

“I’m sure you do, Rainbow Dash,” Sunset muttered. “I am not so sure.” And it wasn’t just because Cinder numbered General Ironwood amongst her enemies – although she did. She had contempt for Professor Ozpin, the senile old fool, but she feared Ironwood. No, that was not quite right; she did not fear the man. She feared no one – except Phoebe, the terror that she could not escape – but she was wary of the strength at his command. She understood what it meant to set herself against the power of Atlas, for all that she was resolved to do so, no matter the cost.

But it was not just Cinder’s feelings affecting her mind, although Cinder had told her something: there was a connection between the two men; they were more than just colleagues. Whatever Professor Ozpin was involved in, General Ironwood was involved in, too.

“And so you will say nothing?” Blake asked. “You’ll let her keep getting away with it?”

“It’s a little late for Cinder either way,” Sunset said.

“But not for her other victims,” Blake insisted. “Trust me, Sunset, there will be other victims. Someone like that… as good as she is at hiding what she really is, there’s no way she’ll be able to suppress it completely.”

So what if there are other victims? I don’t know them, Sunset thought bitterly, and although the bitterness belonged to Cinder, she could not with such certainty say the same for the callousness. She held her peace and kept that thought to herself as her tail curled upwards. “I… I will speak to Rainbow Dash about it,” she muttered. “I will consider it, at least.”

Blake’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, and only for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“But that’s not all there is to it,” Ruby whispered. “Is it? You didn’t stay away because you saw Cinder’s past.”

“No,” Sunset said, with a sigh. “I didn’t just see Cinder’s past; I felt her emotions as well.” She glanced at Pyrrha. “She really hates you. She doesn’t like any of us – she wants us dead – but you… you she hates especially.”

“Why?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah, how could anybody hate Pyrrha?” Jaune added, looking up.

“You were both at a party, a few years ago at least,” Sunset said. “You were only a kid, if her memories are accurate. Everyone was fawning all over you.”

“That describes several parties I attended with my mother,” Pyrrha said. “When I was still young enough that I was a precocious prodigy, before I grew up and my abilities started to become a threat to the dignitas of my fellow nobles. I’m afraid that I don’t remember encountering Cinder Fall at all before the spring vacation.”

“I’m sure she’d hate you even more if she heard that you didn’t remember her at all,” Sunset said, with just a touch of wryness entering her voice. “Considering that that’s the whole reason she hates you to begin with: you had everything that she wanted so badly but could never have.” She snorted. “Kind of like why I didn’t like you.”

"Sunset-" Pyrrha began.

"I didn't come home last night," Sunset said, cutting across her because she needed this to be out there, to be done with; she needed the sword hanging above her head to descend one way or another; she couldn't wait in trepidation for their reaction to this any longer. "I didn't come back here because… because I didn't stop feeling her when we broke skin contact. She… it's like she left something in me. I didn't suck her feelings away, but it's as if they're my feelings now as well. All of her hatred, all of her anger… everything she feels for you." She closed her eyes, but then she opened them once again and forced herself not to look away; she forced herself to look into those stricken faces, those masks of shock, until it was done. Till she was done. "She wants you dead. All of you. All of us. She's got a list, and we're all on it. Except… except she might be willing to take you off the list because-"

"Don't say it," Blake said.

"Huh?" Ruby asked.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Cinder and Sunset both have this idea that they're the same. I've tried to explain to her how ridiculous that is."

"I admit that we're not twins separated at birth," Sunset said. "But we're not so different that-"

"Yes, you are!" Blake insisted. "And I've already explained why. It doesn't matter that some of your backgrounds match, it doesn't matter that you feel the same thing, it doesn't even matter that you have similar natures if that's even true. It's what you do that matters, and what you do… what you do is right and righteous, even if it isn't always for the most righteous reasons. You're not a monster, Sunset, and you never were. If you were, then I… I'd know this time; I'd know better this time, and I wouldn't… I wouldn't let myself… I'd know."

Sunset stared at her. You wouldn't let yourself what? You'd know better than… than when?

When you were with Adam?

Ruby's voice, soft and trembling, cut across Sunset's thoughts. "Is that what you thought?" she asked. "That you were like her?"

Sunset's brow furrowed for a moment. "No," she said. "But I was worried – I am worried – that I could become like her; Cinder certainly thinks I can."

"Then she's an idiot," Ruby said. "There's no way in Remnant that you could become like Cinder because... because you've got us, and we'd never let that happen."

Sunset smiled thinly. "Yeah. Yeah, I've got you. I think… I think that's the difference between us. After her father died, Cinder didn't have anybody to turn to, but I… I've got you. You guys are my saving grace." She pursed her lips momentarily. "I just wish that all her anger and hate didn't feel so at home in me." I just wish I didn't feel as though I'm struggling to keep a lid on it just being in the same room with all of you. She could feel it inside of her like a tiger in a cage, growling and flashing its claws, lunging at the bars in the hope that the iron of Sunset's virtue – such as it was – would give way before the bestial strength of Cinder's fury. It wanted to lash out, it wanted to strike; it was as if, disconnected from Cinder's own mind, her wrath had no more caution but only a wild, untamed desire to inflict pain and destruction on all that it despised the most.

And why shouldn't it want that? Cinder won't be harmed by the consequences, only me and my friends.

Pyrrha looked pensive, Jaune looked as though he just didn't know what to say – or maybe even what to think – but Ruby had a look in her silver eyes as though she'd just come up with a plan. "So… what you're saying is that when you touch someone with your hand… you feel the way they feel inside you?"

"Yes," Sunset said slowly, wondering where Ruby was going with this. "That's about-"

"Got an idea!" Ruby cried, and before Sunset could say anything, do anything, Ruby had covered the distance between them in a burst of rose petals and grabbed Sunset's hand in her own small, pale grasp.

"Ruby, wa-" Sunset opened her mouth to protest too late as Ruby's warm hand pressed against her skin. There was that electric jolt running through her arm, and Sunset's head was thrown backwards as she saw…

She saw…

Ruby in a white cloak. No. No, it wasn’t Ruby, it couldn’t be. This woman was older, and she wore her hair braided at the back which Ruby never did – her hair wasn’t long enough.

Mom. The word echoed through Ruby’s mind, which was also Sunset’s mind right now, or something like that. Mom. Sunset was looking at Ruby’s mother.

Ruby’s mother, smiling at her. Smiling at Ruby, but as Sunset looked through Ruby’s eyes, it was as if Mom was smiling at her too, and she felt such love, love like a fire inside of her; not the all-devouring inferno of Cinder’s hatred but the cosy fire that rose from a fireplace to illuminate a draughty room, a fire to snuggle in front of with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a hot chocolate in your hands and Mom sat beside you while you leaned on her.

Sunset looked through Ruby’s eyes into the softly smiling face of Ruby’s mother, and she felt safe.

And then Summer Rose turned away, her white cloak billowing out behind her, and Sunset knew, Sunset knew just as Ruby knew, even if she hadn’t known it at the time, but she knew now that her mother was never coming back. That this would be the last time that Ruby ever set eyes on her mother.

Sweet Celestia, how old were you when this happened?

Summer Rose walked away, her white cloak rippling in the breeze like a forlorn flag of an army on the verge of defeat; she walked away, never to return.

Like Cinder’s mother.

Sunset gasped, or she would have done if she had had mouth to gasp or if there had been any air to bear the sound away. She hadn’t… she hadn’t thought about that before. She hadn’t made that connection. She’d been so focussed on herself, in the bond that Cinder saw between the two of them, that she hadn’t noticed that Ruby and Cinder also shared a connection: their mothers had walked away; they had gone off to fight in some battle of which their daughters knew nothing, for a cause which their daughters could not comprehend, and they had never come back.

As if in response, summoned by Sunset’s thoughts, Cinder’s anger reared its head like a dog catching the scent of a rabbit in the field, her anger at her mother’s death, at the Atlesian military that had taken her away, at the world that had driven her to risk her life in battle howled like a baying wolf, and in Ruby’s soul and in her thoughts, an anger answered like another pack returning that same howl. Anger at her mother, for leaving her daughters behind, for risking her life, for leaving them and their father to their grief and their guilt, for leaving Dad to decline and Ruby to cry and Yang to struggle with the burden of holding the wounded family together. Anger at her for leaving them.

Yes, there was anger in Ruby’s soul, and perhaps Sunset should have expected that; nobody could be as pure as a newborn babe, and Ruby wasn’t that much younger than the rest of them, not to mention she had cause enough for anger besides. But that anger was but a minor key in the music of Ruby’s soul, a dark discordant note that did not disrupt but rather almost enhanced the loveliness of the symphony that swelled around Sunset like the music of creation.

Cinder’s soul was a jarring sonata, full of angry swipes upon the strings and incensed pounding on the drums and notes played on instruments improperly strung and out of tune, all furiously competing with one another to strike the strongest note in the concerto of hate. At best, it achieved a certain dark majesty when Cinder managed to hold together all of her wrath and direct it to a single common purpose; at worst… at worst it crept out of Sunset’s soul and sought to corrupt the gentler, more harmonious music that entered from Ruby. Ruby’s soul sang of love, of friendship, of valour and compassion and so many virtues bundled up in such a small package. Though she felt anger towards her mother, she nevertheless revered the cause in which she had given her life, and she was prepared to give her life for it as well.

The peace that endured for fifteen years was purchased with blood that was red like roses.

That thought… it didn’t seem like Ruby’s thought; the language was too grand, too sophisticated, or was it that Ruby thought like that but couldn’t express herself in such words out loud, or simply didn’t want to? Whatever the truth, the thought echoed throughout Ruby’s mind, a low and sweeping note of the cello but one which nevertheless stood out clear as a bell amidst the other instruments.

The embodiment of courage indeed, she would think nothing of giving her life so long as but a single life – not even a life she knew; a complete stranger would suffice – was purchased by her sacrifice.

Truly, she puts the rest of us to shame.

And yet, that anger. The discordant note, the note to which Cinder’s anger called out eagerly, seeking and sensing kinship, reaching out, amplifying it, seeking to twist and corrupt all else, to burn all other feelings from Sunset’s soul and leave only anger and hate behind.

And then, in answer, a silver light rose up all around Sunset. All else dissolved, Summer Rose and all the rest, and there was nothing but silver light. There wasn’t even ground beneath Sunset’s feet, and she was falling through the void as the silver light rose up like shining wings to envelop her.

And it sang.

Ruby’s thoughts didn’t linger on any one memory for very long. Sunset tumbled through flashes, images of things past: Team SAPR carving their initials on the wall of the dorm room, Pyrrha’s smile when Ruby told her that she had at least one friend at Beacon, Sunset’s first real apology to her team after the Forever Fall field trip, dinner at Benni Havens’, Sunset singing to her that night..

The silver light enveloped Sunset like swaddling clothes, and the light, that bright, beautiful, glorious light seemed to burn Cinder’s anger all away. Sunset couldn’t hate Pyrrha because she was filled with the affection that Ruby felt towards her; she couldn’t hate or fear herself because she was swimming in Ruby’s trust in her; she couldn’t despise Jaune because the warmth of Ruby’s feelings towards him were wrapped around her like a cosy blanket; she couldn’t even hate Blake because Ruby’s feelings were too bright: the light that shone like a star from Ruby’s soul chased Cinder’s darkness all away like grimm feeling before the approach of a great huntress.

And the music, such music such as Sunset had never heard before: such sweep, such depth, such concord. Such beauty.

Sunset was once more in the dorm room, sitting on her bed. But now, she realised, she had tears in her eyes.

“Did… did it work?” Ruby asked tremulously.

Sunset looked at her in amazement and, to be quite honest, a degree of awe as well. “'Did it work'?”

“I thought…” Ruby hesitated. “I thought that maybe some happy memories would drive out Cinder’s bad ones.”

“'Some happy memories,'” Sunset repeated. You have no idea, do you? You’ve got no clue just what you are. Perhaps it ought to be kept that way. Sunset was living proof of the dangers of telling someone that they were too gifted, too special. “Yes,” she said simply. “Yes, it worked. I… I feel a lot better now.”

That was an understatement. It might even be the understatement. That light, that warmth, that music. Sunset felt as though she had woken from the kind of dream that made you cry to dream again; it was taking a great deal of self-restraint not to touch Ruby’s hand a second time to hear that sound anew, see that light, experience that feeling one more time. When she looked at Jaune and Pyrrha now, she felt not Cinder’s wrath but Ruby’s love; such feelings would fade, in time… but now, Sunset found that she didn’t mind if that fading took its time.

Pyrrha took a few steps towards her. “I can help you train your semblance, if you like,” she said. “So that you can control when you use it.”

“Thanks,” Sunset said. Until then, maybe she should consider a pair of gloves.

Sunset’s scroll went off; so did Pyrrha’s at the exact same time. With a glance at one another, they both pulled them out.

It was Professor Goodwitch.

Author's Note

Someone asked me over on Spacebattles if I was going to include anything from the manga; I hadn't actually read any of it at that point but I took a look at the first one and this chapter includes the first reference to it: the peace that endured for fifteen years was purchased with blood that was red like roses, from the manga adaptation of the Initiation Arc.

Rewrite notes: The biggest change here is that instead of simply telling the reader that Sunset told her teammates what she learnt about Cinder, here you get to see exactly what she did or didn't tell them. What will Cinder say when she finds out that Pyrrha knows about her past?

Behind the Curtain (Rewritten)

Behind the Curtain

Sunset and Pyrrha held one another’s gaze for a moment, before they both answered their scrolls together.

Immediately, the stern face of Professor Goodwitch appeared on both of their screens, glowering out at them from two different directions as if she had somehow managed to split herself into two people to achieve even greater quantities of restrained disapproval.

“Miss Shimmer,” she said in a tone that was brisk and businesslike. “I see from the view that you have found your way back to your dorm room. Although you don’t yet seem to have found your way to a change of clothes.”

Sunset was still wearing her dress from last night’s dance. “Not quite yet, Professor, although I was just about to find my way to the shower.”

“That would probably be for the best,” Professor Goodwitch said dryly. “I’ll inform Professor Ozpin that you’ll be somewhat delayed.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “No offence, Professor Goodwitch, but why would the headmaster be interested in my ablutions?”

“Professor Ozpin would like to see both you and Miss Nikos in his office,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Ideally, you would come at once, but I think it would be best if you were to wash and change first, so I’ll tell him that you’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

Sunset leaned forwards a little. “Why does the headmaster want to see us?”

“I suggest you come to his office and find out for yourself, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch replied with just a touch of tartness in her voice.

“We’ll be there, Professor,” Pyrrha said.

“Thank you, Miss Nikos,” Professor Goodwitch said. “We’ll be expecting you. Please try not to keep the headmaster waiting any longer than necessary.”

She hung up without saying goodbye.

Sunset folded her scroll away as the screen went black. “That sounds… interesting.”

What was most intriguing to her was the fact that the invitation had been extended to Pyrrha and herself. If the headmaster had just called Sunset in to see him, then she would have assumed that it was some routine bit of team leader business, a mission assignment or something that she would be supposed to brief out to her teammates later. If she and Ruby had been called in, then she might have thought it was something to do with last night’s events. But Sunset and Pyrrha? Why would Professor Ozpin want to see the two of them but not Jaune and Ruby? Why call in half the team and not the other half?

“Maybe he just wants to talk to you about Cinder?” Jaune asked. “About when we met her in Mistral?”

“Then why aren’t you being invited?” Sunset asked, as she got off the bed.

“The rest of us have already spoken to the Professor about that,” Pyrrha informed her. “While you were… away.”

“Fair enough,” Sunset said. “But then why ask you back to talk about the same thing again?”

“Ultimately, speculation is less fruitful than just going to his office to find out what the professor wants,” Blake pointed out.

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, good point. Pyrrha, I’ll be in and out as quick as I can.”

She showered swiftly, barely taking any time to feel the warm water work the knots out of her shoulders or to properly lather up her hair with shampoo and conditioner the way that she would have liked to do. Maybe she’d have another shower after she was done with whatever Professor Ozpin wanted.

Whatever he wanted. Sunset frowned as the water washed down her back and the little shampoo she had used washed out of her hair. What did Professor Ozpin want with her and Pyrrha?

Sunset couldn’t have said exactly why she didn’t trust the headmaster. Cinder hated him for reasons that Sunset couldn’t properly discern, even if Cinder understood them herself; Ruby looked up to him as the model of a huntsman; but Sunset… Sunset couldn’t quite bring herself to trust him, even if she couldn’t have explained everything about why. Maybe it was just the lingering memories of Princess Celestia and the way that she had kept Sunset in the dark for so long, but was that really a good reason to look askance at Ozpin? After all, Celestia had acted with the best intentions, and Sunset had forgiven her for what she had done, so why should she look at another man, a different person, with suspicion?

Perhaps I just don’t like being kept in the dark.

And perhaps I have good reason to feel that way. Not all secrets were harmless, after all. In a world like this, secrets could get people killed, and Professor Ozpin had secrets by the handful. Just from Summer Rose’s journal alone, it was clear that he knew about silver eyes and about the prophets and their magic, and he was keeping this information to himself, doling out small morsels of knowledge to those he trusted in proportion to his trust. Was that what this was about? Was he about to ladle out a small spoonful of information to Pyrrha and Sunset in exchange for… what?

That went back to the old problem: why not bring in the whole of SAPR, as he had apparently brought in the whole of STRQ?

Sunset sighed. Blake was right; the only way to find the answers was to actually go to his office and see what he wanted. So she finished showering and changed into her habitual outfit plus a spare pair of Pyrrha’s brown opera gloves to prevent any unwanted activations of her semblance; they didn’t fit her too well – Pyrrha’s arms were more muscular than Sunset’s – but since she strapped her vambraces on over the gloves, she was able to stop them falling off completely, and although they might be slipping down past her elbows, that was all hidden under her jacket, so nobody could see it anyway.

Sunset might have taken her weapons, but as Pyrrha was waiting for her without them, there wasn’t really any way to avoid following the lead of her teammate and going without.

“Are you ready?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, I’d prefer it if we knew a little more going in, but since we don’t… might as well go and see for ourselves.

Pyrrha frowned. “I don’t understand why you have this attitude towards the headmaster.”

“Besides the fact that he’s keeping secrets, you mean?”

“While that would appear to be true,” Pyrrha said, “I’m sure that he has a good reason for it.”

“I’m sure… I’m sure that Professor Ozpin himself thinks so,” Sunset allowed.

“He’s a hero,” Blake pointed out.

Sunset looked at her, and folded her arms. “And how do a lot of faunus see Adam Taurus?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Point, I suppose.”

“I don’t get it,” Jaune said. “You’re not seriously suggesting that Professor Ozpin is-“

“A murderer? No, of course not,” Sunset said. “I’m just saying that just because a lot of people think you’re a hero doesn’t make you a good man. It just makes you a great warrior with a cause people can get behind.” She sighed. “I don’t know really; maybe I’m just paranoid, I just…”

She didn’t finish, because she’s said it all before and there was no sense repeating it now. It was easier to just let it lie. After all, nothing had happened yet. When it happened – if it happened – then that would be the time to deal with it.

Professor Ozpin might have secrets, but for now, he had also been quite obliging. If he started to make more use of them as he seemed to have once used Team STRQ, then that would be the moment to start worrying, to demand answers, and to make a serious effort to get her more trusting teammates to open their eyes.

But that time had not come yet, and so Sunset and Pyrrha left Jaune, Ruby, and Blake behind and set off from the dorm room towards the tower. A raven croaked at them from somewhere in the trees as they made their way across the courtyard.

“I don’t know what Professor Ozpin wants to talk to us about,” Pyrrha said softly as they walked, “but I’m sure that whatever it is, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Sunset smiled. There are times when I wish that I could share your certainty, but more times when I’m glad that I’m no longer so naïve. “You’re probably right,” she said, without much conviction in her soul, no matter how much she was able to put into her voice.

More Atlesian troops guarded the Emerald Tower, and for the moment at least, it wasn’t just regular soldiers either; they had huntsmen with them, not students, but Specialists in crisp white uniforms. The tower was still closed, but once Sunset and Pyrrha identified themselves, they were waved through by the guards and were able to get into the elevator without any more difficulty.

The lift rose slowly, crawling upwards with a grinding sound. Pyrrha and Sunset waited in silence, neither saying anything.

For all that she talked about there being nothing to be concerned about, Sunset would have been surprised if Pyrrha wasn’t every bit as curious about what was waiting for them up there as Sunset herself. Pyrrha might be more trusting of authority, but she was still human, after all; she had to wonder.

So Sunset let her wonder, and she wondered herself, pondering over why they had been summoned and for what purpose and wouldn’t this elevator just hurry up already so that they could find out?

“I can’t exactly say why,” Sunset murmured, as the elevator climbed, “but I’m reminded of the time my… Princess Celestia first invited me for a private conference. It was a long walk down the corridor to get to her study, and by the time I got there… I had no idea what she wanted to see me about; she’d just invited me to come to see her alone, in private, and so I couldn’t help but imagine all the things that might be about to happen to me. Was I about to get kicked out? By the time I walked through the door, my knees were shaking.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Somehow, I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

Sunset grinned. “I was only young at the time. But she… she was so good about it; so polite, so kind, so gentle. She knew exactly how to put me at my ease.”

“Then there was nothing to worry about.”

“The contrary, in fact,” Sunset said. “She wanted to make me her personal student, her… her apprentice, if you like.” She smiled sadly. “I could have followed in her footsteps if I had been a better person.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “You’re a better person now.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“I meant…” Pyrrha hesitated. “Sunset, have you ever thought about going home?”

Sunset looked at her. “I… no, I can’t say I really have.”

Pyrrha shrugged. “You’re still young. Maybe there’s still time. If you went back, then-”

“Ah, I see what you mean,” Sunset said, interrupting her before you could finish. “And… you’re probably half right. I could go home, if the time was right. Princess Celestia would take me back, I’m sure. But it’s too late for… for all the other stuff. She found a new student while I was away, a better m-” She stopped herself before she could say ‘mare.’ “Someone better than me. That destiny belongs to another now. I have no claim on it, nor can I have any share in it.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that.”

“Besides,” Sunset said, with a grin that was not entirely forced, “what would you guys do without me? Or are you just desperate to get rid of me?”

“N-no, I don’t-”

“I know,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha nodded. When she spoke again, her voice acquired a playful edge. “Who knows, perhaps Professor Ozpin is going to make us his personal students?”

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, maybe he is.” The elevator shuddered to a stop. “I guess now we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The lift door slid open, and Sunset and Pyrrha stepped out into the office. The gears of the clock ground by inexorably overhead and cast their shadows on the floor beneath.

The spacious office was far from empty. Professor Ozpin sat enthroned in his ornate chair, flanked by Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood who stood on either side and just behind him, like courtiers waiting to whisper counsel – or poison – into the monarch’s ear. Before the desk, standing a little to the right-hand side of the room, stood Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle; where Sunset and Pyrrha had come in their field garb, the two Atlesians were wearing the white and grey uniform of Atlas Academy. Rainbow Dash, standing at ease with her hands clasped behind her back, nodded to the two Beacon students while Twilight, standing more informally, offered a slightly hesitant wave.

Sunset might have said something to greet them both, but – as she and Pyrrha advanced into the room and reached a point roughly level with the two Atlesians – Professor Ozpin spoke before she could get a word out. “Miss Shimmer, Miss Nikos, thank you for coming at such short notice,” he said. “Miss Dash, Miss Sparkle, I apologise for keeping you waiting, but now that all four of you have arrived, we can begin.”

“Twilight,” General Ironwood said, taking a step forward so that he now stood level with, rather than behind, Professor Ozpin. “What have you found so far going through the CCT servers?”

“A worm, sir,” Twilight said. “And a sophisticated one, from what I could tell. It was dormant, waiting for some kind of trigger or activation signal to wake it up. I decided to prioritise elimination over analysis, but I think if it had been left in place, then they – whoever set it, that is – could have gotten into all our systems that are linked to the CCT network.”

“Which is most of them,” Ironwood finished for her. “Force deployments, logistical data, the IFF on our automated systems; we’d have been completely exposed. Is it dealt with?”

“I think so, sir,” Twilight murmured. “I’ll need to run another full diagnostic to make sure it’s completely cleared.”

Ironwood nodded. “Do it.” He smiled in an avuncular manner, like a fond or favourite uncle. “Good work, Twilight.”

“Thank you, General,” Twilight said. She hesitated. “But, with respect, I don’t think you called Rainbow, Sunset, and Pyrrha up here so that they could hear my report on the situation with the computers.”

“No,” Ironwood admitted. “You’ve all been gathered here for another reason.”

“Before we get down to business,” Professor Ozpin said, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his desk, “I want you all to understand that the information I am about to share with you is of the most confidential nature. I am taking a great risk in telling you any of this, and I want your assurances that you will be most discreet in how you handle what you are about to learn once you leave this office.”

Rainbow looked not to Professor Ozpin, but to General Ironwood. “You don’t trust us, sir?”

“I trust you,” Ironwood said, with a certain emphasis upon his own self that suggested that perhaps Professor Ozpin was not so trusting. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t both enjoy my absolute confidence. But this goes beyond classified, beyond state secrets; not even Councillor Cadenza knows what we’re about to tell you, and she cannot know. No one can.”

“But, General,” Twilight spoke in a voice that was soft and small, faintly bewildered as though the world no longer made as much sense to her as it had done a moment ago. “Why are you keeping secrets from the Council?”

“Because he is a servant with two masters,” Sunset muttered, without judgement in her voice. Her eyes flickered to Ozpin. The way he sat, the way they stood… courtiers beside the throne of the king, of course that was how it was. “Isn’t that right, Professor? Or should I call you something else? ‘My lord’? Or would you prefer ‘Your Majesty’?”

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked quietly. “What are you talking about?”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “Very perceptive, Miss Shimmer; but Professor will do just fine.”

Rainbow frowned, her brow crinkling. “What’s she talking about, sir, what’s going on? What is this?”

It was to the general that she had spoken, but it was Ozpin who answered. “Tell me, Miss Dash, why do you fight?”

Rainbow’s magenta eyes flickered to Professor Ozpin. “I fight for the three Fs.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “The three Fs, Miss Dash?”

“Flag. Fleet. Friends,” Rainbow declared.

“Ah. I see. Very concisely put, Miss Dash.” Professor Ozpin said, nodding his head in acceptance if not agreement. “And who or what are you fighting against?”

“The creatures of grimm.”

“Is that all?”

“The White Fang,” Rainbow growled.

“And what of Cinder Fall?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I fought her too,” Rainbow said.

“But why?”

“Because she tried to kill Twilight!”

Professor Ozpin waved away that response. “You misunderstand, Miss Dash. The question more rightly applies to Miss Fall: not a faunus, not a grimm, but an enemy nonetheless. But why an enemy? In what cause? The same question might be asked of her human accomplices, Miss Sustral and Mister Black, or of Roman Torchwick who currently languishes in silence aboard an Atlesian warship.”

“Roman Torchwick is a criminal,” Pyrrha said.

“A criminal working with the White Fang, who are themselves working with or possibly even under the command of a human, probably Miss Fall herself,” Ozpin said. “Does that not seem strange?”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “But it probably isn’t to you, is it, Professor? That’s why we’re here: because you’re the man with all the answers, and you’ve decided to share a few of them with us.”

Silence reigned in the office for a few moments. Professor Ozpin’s face was still, set like a plaster cast. Or a death mask like the ones on the walls of the Nikos mansion. Silently, he got up from his chair and walked to the emerald-tinted windows, looking across the grounds of Beacon and the city of Vale that lay beyond and far below. His cane tapped on the floor.

“Is that true?” Rainbow asked. “You know who Cinder is?”

“We don’t know the specifics of her background,” Professor Goodwitch said, prompting Pyrrha to glance briefly at Sunset – who did know, of course, but wasn’t ready to reveal it in this company; she was grateful to Pyrrha for not forcing her to do so. Professor Goodwitch continued, “But we understand the cause in which she acted.”

“And I guess she wasn’t just a Mistralian agent then?” Rainbow asked.

“No,” Ironwood said. “This war goes far beyond Mistral, Atlas, or Vale.”

“'War'?” Pyrrha said. “What war?”

“The war of light against darkness, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, without looking round. “The war of life against death. The true war. The only war that really matters.”

“The fight against the grimm,” Pyrrha murmured.

Professor Ozpin sighed. “I am afraid this goes far beyond the creatures of grimm, Miss Nikos.” He turned around, sweeping his gaze across the four of them in turn. “Tell me, are any of you girls religious? Do you believe in any god or gods? Do you have faith?”

There was another momentary silence before Twilight raised a tentative hand. “I, uh, I believe in… in the paranormal? Does that count?”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “Do you mean that you believe in magic, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight bowed her head. “Yes, Professor.”

Ozpin seemed to find that terribly amusing. “Fascinating. But do you believe in a higher power? Or rather, do you believe in a higher being, greater than mankind? Do any of you?”

“I… I would not describe myself as religious,” Pyrrha answered tremulously. “At least, no more than culturally so; I observe the practices because it is expected, but… I have stood in the Temple of Victory, and I have felt something there, though I am not sure I would call it a god.”

“Nevertheless, that is more than many would say upon the subject,” Professor Ozpin declared. “In one time, a time long past, the world crawled with cults and faiths; they seemed to spring out of the ground, more of them each day… but the advancement of science made them obsolete – or seemed to – and as the world has become more libertarian in attitudes, so have people come to resent any restriction placed upon the practice of their lifestyle. Nowadays, only a handful of faiths remain, clinging to life with ever-diminished numbers of believers.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t science or social attitudes that hurt them most,” Sunset said. “Perhaps it was when all of their prophets disappeared.” Disappeared or turned into Red Queens; now what might you know about that, Professor?

Professor Ozpin looked at her for a moment, his face inscrutable. Neither Professor Goodwitch nor General Ironwood gave anything away on that front either.

Which didn’t mean that there was nothing to get out of them, just that it wasn’t going to be so easy as making them blanch with a well-placed word or phrase.

“There have been many religions,” Professor Goodwitch said, apparently deciding that the best response to Sunset’s remark was to pay it no heed. “And dozens of gods and goddesses. But, while many of those faiths had some basis in fact, the truth – as we understand it – is that there have only been two true gods in Remnant.”

“Two brothers,” Professor Ozpin said. “The God of Light, and the God of Darkness, who ruled over this world in the days long gone.”

“Two brothers,” Pyrrha murmured. “As in the Tale of the Two Brothers?”

“Exactly, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “There is more truth in fairy tales than many people recognise.”

“You’re talking about real truth, aren’t you, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Not metaphorical truth, not emotional or spiritual truth, but real facts about things that really happened-“

“To real people who were just like that,” Professor Ozpin finished, a slight smile playing upon his face. “Indeed, Miss Shimmer, that is precisely what I mean. The Two Brothers the tale speaks of are as real as I am.”

Sunset’s tail twitched. And how many other tales are true, Professor? The Infinite Man? The Shallow Sea? Poppy and Oak?

Professor Ozpin went on. “The God of Light, the elder brother, gloried in creation: he brought forth much that was green and growing and beautiful upon the surface of the earth and saw that it was good, but the God of Darkness, the younger brother, looked upon light and life with horror and with loathing; he desired only to return the world to lifelessness, and he worked tirelessly to consume all that his brother had made and turn all life to death and dust. But he never succeeded. The light was too bright, his brother too powerful, and while much that the elder brother wrought in the light was destroyed or corrupted in the darkness, always, the light would return once again and drive away the darkness, just as life would drive away the stench of death and decay. The elder brother even wrought a mirror in the sky, the moon, that the light might shine on Remnant even in the deepest darkness, and with that light, he might continue to work even in the dominion of his younger brother.

“Filled with resentment, the younger brother saw that this was not a battle he could win alone, and so he set aside for a moment the power of destruction and turned instead to the power that he had always scorned as the domain of his hated elder brother: the power of creation. But into that creation, the God of Darkness poured all of his malice, all of his hatred of life and light, and all of his desire to snuff out both completely.”

If Cinder is serving the God of Darkness, then they are well matched, it seems.

“The grimm,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Professor? The God of Darkness brought forth the creatures of grimm.”

“But grimm don’t prey on all life,” Rainbow protested. “They only attack humans; everyone knows that.”

“Now, yes,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But it was not always so. Once, the creatures of grimm were ravenous; they would devour any and all living creatures: beasts, birds, they would even consume plants and trees, anything that grew upon the surface of Remnant. No lion, wolf, or bear could compete with them; no horse or deer could outrun them; their numbers were legion and their appetites insatiable. They would have swallowed the world.

“The elder brother perceived that the destruction of all that he had wrought was imminent, and so, just as his younger brother had embraced the power of creation, so too did the elder embrace the power of destruction to defend the works of his mind and his hands.

“We do not know how long they fought – or exactly how, but considering the combatants, the struggle must have been long and brutal – but when the fighting was over, the elder brother stood victorious, and in his victory, he offered his younger brother a truce. He proposed that they should cease their struggle and work together on one final creation: a perfect being, empowered both to create and to destroy, gifted with knowledge and blessed with the ability to choose to what end he would put his knowledge and his skill. And that creation was, as I’m sure that you’ve guessed by now, mankind.”

“That… that’s a cool story and all, Professor,” Rainbow said. “But I don’t get why it has to be kept a secret, and I don’t get why you wanted to tell it to us, and I really don’t get what it has to do with Cinder and the White Fang.”

“Because we have the power to choose,” Pyrrha said. “To choose light or darkness, life or death, creation or destruction. Cinder has chosen darkness and destruction.”

“Indeed, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, sounding almost proud of her. “Miss Fall has made her choice, and we have asked you here to offer you the… the opportunity to make yours.”

“Then… then it is the God of Darkness that Cinder serves?” Twilight asked quietly.

“No, thank goodness, things are not quite so dire as that,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Having created mankind, the two gods departed Remnant many ages ago, content to watch from a distance and see what choices men would make without gods to guide or to control them. But they left behind them certain artefacts, containing what we might call remnants of their power. Relics, if you will, of the four aspects of divinity once passed to man: creation, destruction, knowledge… and choice, the most precious and powerful gift of all.”

“Is that where the stories of magical objects come from?” Twilight asked. “Caliburn, the sword that could never be defeated; the staff of Diomed that enabled him to grant boons to his subjects out of nothing; the crown of King Paul of Vale that gave him his wisdom?”

“And many others, Miss Sparkle,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “Yes. For some time, the relics roamed free in the world, and although their true origin was unknown, their powers were well understood and appreciated.”

“Then what changed?” Sunset asked. Why has everything wondrous disappeared out of the world? Why has everything been hidden?

“The relics were too powerful,” Ozpin said. “It was better that the temptation for men to use them against their enemies was removed. And besides, although the God of Darkness has departed from the world, there is another who has proven more than willing to take up his mantle.”

“What do you mean?” Pyrrha asked.

“Her name is Salem,” General Ironwood said. “We don’t know exactly who she is or where she comes from; we don’t even know if she was ever human or if she has always been… something else. But we do know that she dwells on the continent of Drachyra.”

Twilight gasped. “The signal relay.”

General Ironwood nodded. “Precisely.”

“And Cinder,” Sunset said. “She… she serves this Salem?”

“Salem is at the root of all our troubles,” Ozpin declared. “The mistress of the grimm, the inheritor of the powers of darkness, the indefatigable enemy of light, of life… and of mankind. Ageless, cunning, and filled with malice, she sends out her grimm to prey upon men wherever they are unprotected and longs for the opportunity to launch a full assault upon these, the four kingdoms and the havens of humanity. And all the while, she gathers to her side all those who are discontented, the outcast and the unclean, those who have – rightly or wrongly – been rejected by the civilised world, and she moulds them into weapons to send against us. Weapons like Miss Fall.”

“And we let her get away with this?” Rainbow demanded. “We know that she’s the one sending the grimm, we know where she lives? And we just… what? We let this happen? We stand here and talk about gods and fairytales while the bad guys are out there sharpening their knives for us?”

“It isn’t that simple, Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“The hell it isn’t!” Rainbow snapped. “General, sir, you… you know what we’ve lost. You know what’s been taken from us, from all of us.” Rainbow looked at General Ironwood, and in Rainbow’s eyes, Sunset could see a desperate desire for him to offer her an explanation that would enable her to keep believing in him, to tell her that he wasn’t just a monster sending good soldiers and huntsmen to their deaths while he had the power to end the war but would not use it.

Sunset could sympathise; although she hadn’t lost any friends to the grimm – or even to the White Fang, who Salem was also standing behind through the intermediary of Cinder Fall, if what she was hearing was correct – the thought that she might preyed upon her mind like a grimm in its own right. She had told Luna that she might be content if she could combine the safety of Equestria with her friends of Remnant, and if that world was within their grasp, if all they had to do was to defeat Salem, then… then why hadn’t they done it yet? This was Pyrrha’s dream, the one that they had shared on the rooftop after their fight: the grimm defeated, mankind triumphant and free to spread to every corner of the world. At the time, Sunset had thought it a fantasy, but if it wasn’t… if the grimm could be defeated through the defeat of Salem, then why hadn’t anybody beaten Salem?

Sunset was no great fan of Professor Ozpin, she didn’t hold him up as a paragon, he didn’t command her uncritical admiration and respect, but in this moment, even she wanted him to offer some kind of explanation, some answer to the big question that now hung over everything that he had just told them or might tell them. This was a war between light and darkness, Ozpin said, a war between life and death; Sunset wanted to know he wasn’t actually indifferent to the merits of the two sides.

It was General Ironwood who spoke, his words falling from his mouth with the weight of lead. “I’m aware of our losses, Dash.”

“Then why, sir?” Rainbow demanded, “If we know who she is and where she is, then let’s bring the big hammer down on her and show her how Atlas takes care of business! Let’s end this.”

General Ironwood looked physically pained as he said, “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’d lose,” General Ironwood said. He didn’t shout, he didn’t snap or snarl, but he might as well have done, because both Rainbow and Twilight reacted as though he had. They both recoiled from him, looking as though he’d struck them or threatened to do so.

“Believe me, I asked exactly the same questions when I was first read into this,” Ironwood continued. “I wanted to know why we couldn’t strike back, finish this, finish her. But we can’t. She’s too powerful; she surrounds herself with too many grimm. We can’t even get close to her, and if we could…”

Rainbow shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear you underestimate us, sir.”

“This isn’t a fight you can win if you just have enough guts, Dash!” Ironwood snapped.

“Maybe not, sir, but we’ve got guts and weapons, so I think we’re in with a shot.”

“I understand your frustrations, Miss Dash-”

“Do you?” Rainbow snapped. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin replied, his voice as calm as ever it sounded, utterly failing to rise to the bait of Rainbow’s anger. There was no blood in it, no blood at all. The only tone in the headmaster’s voice was weariness. “If Salem could be so easily defeated, then I would do it. Even if it were not easy, I would do it anyway, no matter the cost. But it is no use. Salem… cannot be destroyed. She has existed since time immemorial, and she will go on existing long after our bones are dust. All the weapons in the arsenal of Atlas could rain down upon her head, and it would trouble her no more than an April shower. I thought that there might be a way to… to contain her with a particular power wielded by one very gifted student, but… but it affected her not at all.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You’re talking about Summer Rose, aren’t you, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin looked at her, his face yielding nothing. “An interesting speculation, Miss Shimmer.”

“I know what makes Ruby so special, Professor,” Sunset declared. “I know that it made her mother special too; we all know.” She was willing to give up this particular nugget of information in exchange for something resembling a straight answer out of him.

If he really wants me to know the truth for whatever reason, he’s hardly likely to kick me out over the diary.

It had to be said, however, that Professor Goodwitch didn’t appear to feel the same way. She scowled. “And how did you come by this information, Miss Shimmer?”

“That hardly seems relevant now, Glynda,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “You are correct, Miss Shimmer, in all but one respect.”

Sunset’s tail curled upwards. “And what’s that, Professor?”

“What makes Miss Rose special is her valour,” Professor Ozpin said. “Her courage in the face of danger, her commitment to defending life, the ways in which she models the behaviour of a huntress so perfectly. It is spirit, more than any advantages of her birth, which make her extraordinary.” He looked down at his desk. “Nevertheless, you are right that her mother made a gallant attempt to… contain Salem. She failed, as I should have known she would, which is to say that I failed her first through my arrogance. Salem cannot be vanquished in the field… but she can be withstood.”

“How?” Pyrrha asked. “If she is so powerful, if none of our weapons or techniques are sufficient to harm her, if she could just walk into Beacon and kill us all and we wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop her, then… then why doesn’t she? Why hasn’t she?”

“Because she is…” Sunset licked her lips, her tail swishing back and forth behind her. “She is a princess,” she said in the end, because it was the word that was buried in her mind, the only word that she could think of, the word that made the most sense to use, even as it felt like a betrayal to give it voice. “She does not go forth to fight in her own cause, but sends out…” But sends out her faithful students to do her work. “But sends out others to act on her behalf.”

“Quite so, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “And therein lies our hope, for while Salem herself may be immortal and invincible, those who work in her name and for her purposes are not. That is why, many generations ago, our predecessors founded a secret order to resist Salem and to keep the sacred relics out of her hands. For if she were ever to obtain the relics and combine them, the power that she would wield would be sufficient to change the world as we know it.”

“The group they founded has existed down to the present,” Professor Goodwitch said. “We, along with the headmasters of Haven and Vacuo academies and… one or two other individuals, make up the current membership.”

“And we’re telling you this because we believe that you are the right people to carry our sacred charge into the future,” Ironwood said.

“But… why?” Rainbow asked. “Why me, sir? I mean, Twi, sure I get that, but… I mean… I’m just a girl who punches things.”

“Remnant needs wisdom and intelligence, true,” Ironwood said. “But it also needs a brave defender, and I can’t think of anyone braver than you.”

“But why is any of this necessary?” Pyrrha asked, sounding as though her voice was on the verge of breaking. “Why not tell people about this? Why keep it a secret?”

“Because if people knew the relics existed, they would be tempted to use them for their own power and prestige,” Professor Ozpin said, and as he said that, he looked at Sunset, who felt an uncomfortable shiver down her spine as though the headmaster – or whatever he really was – was looking right into her soul. “Because if people knew that the grimm were more than mindless beasts, if they knew the scale of the threat we truly face, then there would be mass panic of the sort that would attract the grimm for certain; because people deserve the chance to live their lives free from the threat of Salem hanging over their every waking moment. I ask you again, Miss Dash, why do you fight?”

Rainbow shifted uncomfortably. “I fight so that my friends don’t have to fight.”

“You take that burden on yourself, that they may be spared the weight of it,” Professor Ozpin said. “Just as we take this great burden upon ourselves that the rest of the world may be spared it.”

You make it sound so noble, don’t you? Sunset thought. And maybe it was noble, every bit as noble as he was making it sound… or maybe he wanted it to sound like that to cover up how convenient it was that this state of affairs left him with all of the knowledge, including knowledge of four incredibly powerful objects that he was keeping to himself – for the good of the world, obviously. Maybe Sunset was being too hard on him; she wasn’t entirely sure what she thought about all of this yet; so much information dropped on her head at once was leaving her feeling a little stunned as thoughts whirled about her mind this way and that. But here was what she knew: Professor Ozpin had recruited Summer Rose and her team the same way that he was recruiting the four of them now, and Summer Rose had died. Yes, the life of a huntress was an inherently hazardous one, and yes, correlation doesn’t necessarily equal causation, but sometimes it does, and in this case… Sunset looked to her left, where Pyrrha stood looking shocked at all that she had learnt; Rainbow and Twilight looked equally amazed. Sunset didn’t know about them, but she was under no illusions that they were going to be equal partners in this secret order if they decided to join it – if they were being given a choice, one might argue that they knew too much to turn back now. On the one side, the headmaster, his right hand and the commander of the Atlesian forces; on the other side, four students. One side was going to be given the orders, and the other side was going to be taking them, and it didn’t take a genius to work out which was which. Professor Ozpin would use them as he had used Team STRQ; at least, he would use Sunset and Pyrrha; perhaps General Ironwood would take some care of Rainbow and Twilight – he seemed fond of them, although it was hard to tell how much of that was an act. But Sunset and Pyrrha, he would use for certain: they would run his errands and fight his battles and fend off Salem’s strokes while he sat in this tower as remote from where the metal met as any king… as remote as Princess Celestia in Canterlot, sending Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony to save the world while she sipped tea in her shining tower.

That was probably very unfair to Princess Celestia; whatever might be said about her, her ways, her secrecy, or her plans, it couldn’t be denied that she had shared much knowledge with Sunset, taught her a great deal of magic and presumably had done the same for Twilight. And she was kind and generous, and she won the loyalty that she demanded of her students through love that Sunset, for one, had found maternal. She had no doubt that if she were to write to Twilight and ask why that she did all that she did, ran all the risks on Celestia’s behalf, the answer would include – perhaps amidst a lot of noble sentiments – the fact that Twilight loved Celestia and would do anything the princess asked of her.

What did Professor Ozpin offer in exchange for the loyalty he demanded of his secret servants: the honour of duty done and the glory of integrity of principle? Perhaps he would say it was for the good of mankind as he sent them out to fight, and perhaps, one day, when they were older, Pyrrha and Sunset would be admitted into the decision-making circle… if they lived that long. If they didn’t end up as dead as Summer Rose.

I won’t let that happen. Sunset’s loyalty was not to Professor Ozpin, his society, or his cause; her loyalty was not to the Kingdom of Vale, nor to humanity at large; Sunset’s loyalty was to Team SAPR, to Blake, to RSPT as well a bit. Pyrrha seemed to feel a little differently about Professor Ozpin than she had before she had found all of this out, but ultimately, she was still Pyrrha Nikos and just the kind of person to throw herself into harm’s way if she thought it was the right thing to do. Ruby was just the same, and even Jaune too.

I won’t let that happen. She would keep them safe, all of them, from Salem and from Professor Ozpin if she had to.

And, as much as she appreciated knowing who they were really up against, Sunset couldn’t help but notice that Professor Ozpin hadn’t mentioned magic at all during this, even when Sunset had offered him the opportunity to do so.

Just as I thought; you ladle out truth according to your own measure, and I reckon there’s still some stew left in that particular pot.

It might have been harsh, it might have been personal, but Sunset couldn’t bring herself to trust Professor Ozpin.

It was for that reason that – if there was any choice being offered to them in the matter at all – she meant to take him up on his offer.

It wasn’t just that he was offering her a share – however menial it might be at first – of power and influence; although Sunset couldn’t deny that if he’d told her this a little sooner, she would have been filled with desire for the relics of the gods. She could still feel the alluring desire to be a part of something bigger than herself, to influence the world, to leave her mark on Remnant in some way. She would win no glory from it, being a secret and all, but a few people at least would know and recognise her worth, and perhaps she could be content with that; perhaps that was her destiny, to be a Celestia unsung, to wield the power without the crown, to be a princess in the shadows of the world. Not what she had expected when she set out… but at the same time, it was far from nothing.

More importantly, if she refused Professor Ozpin’s offer – if she was even allowed or afforded the opportunity to refuse – then she would be shut out for good and lose all chance not only to influence the things this organisation did, but also to protect her friends from the inside. The fact that she couldn’t bring herself to trust Professor Ozpin made it more, not less, imperative that she know all that he knew and know as much as she could know what he was thinking, what he was planning to do with Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Blake.

She would work with him, for him… the better to work against him if she had to.

“You need not decide right away what you will do next, now that you have seen what so few others have seen and know what so few others know,” Professor Ozpin said. “Take some time. Consider what you have learned and the great odds that are against us. I freely confess that it was General Ironwood’s idea to tell you this, but at the same time, I must also admit that I could use your help.”

“Only our help?” Sunset asked. “Professor, how discreet do you expect us to be with this? Are we supposed to keep this from Ruby and Jaune?”

Professor Ozpin, at last, resumed his seat. “You must do what you think best, Miss Shimmer, but I must remind you all that what you have heard today is highly confidential.”

“Of course, Professor,” Sunset said, with a smile which she hoped was convincing.

Although judging by the way that Professor Ozpin was looking at her, Sunset had her doubts.

“Pyrrha Nikos, Sunset Shimmer,” he said. “Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle; you have been chosen because we believe that you possess the courage, wisdom, loyalty, and compassion that elevate humanity above the run of mere beasts: the qualities, one might say, of the divine. But be under no illusions: the survival of our kingdoms, of our very race, hangs by a thread. Our decisions, our actions or inactions, determine the difference between survival and peace for millions… or the death and destruction of all that we hold dear. One day, if you choose to accept some part of this heavy burden that we bear, the fate of Remnant may lie in your hands. I urge you… I beg you to think long and hard about what that means and make your decision with the greatest care.” He was silent for a moment. “That will be all.”

“Dismissed,” Ironwood said.

Rainbow saluted, as much on reflex as anything else, before she turned to go. Twilight cast one last look at the general before she too turned to follow in Rainbow’s footsteps. Pyrrha’s feet dragged a little as she started towards the elevator. Sunset remained in place, still, unmoving. She stared at Professor Ozpin. He stared back at her.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said.

Professor Ozpin blinked. “For what, Miss Shimmer.”

“For being so honest with us,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin smiled. “Of course, Miss Shimmer, although perhaps you should not be quite so swift to thank me. I think we both know that some secrets are best left untold.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. And what is it that you think you know about me? Was it possible that he… how could he know that, how could he know anything about Equestria? Had the knowledge been passed down to him by his predecessors in this secret organisation?

He certainly knows something – or he thinks he does – and he’s letting me know it too. To be honest, Sunset was left rather disappointed. Did he really think that she would throw her team to the beowolves in response to a little crude blackmail? Please. Sunset Shimmer had her faults, but she was better than that.

“Maybe, Professor,” she said. “But equally, some secrets really are best out in the open, where people can make up their own minds.”

She turned away, joining Pyrrha, Rainbow, and Twilight in waiting for the elevator.

Ozpin watched silently as the door to the lift slid shut, enclosing the four students within it before beginning its descent.

“They didn’t take that too well,” Glynda said.

“Neither did you, when you first found out the truth,” Ozpin reminded her with a trace of amusement in his voice. “I… may have taken a little convincing, but now that the moment has arrived, I’m confident they’ll all make the right choice.”

“You didn’t tell them about the Maidens,” James said.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?” James pressed.

“Because, as much as I think you disagree nowadays, James, I’m not a cruel or heartless man,” Ozpin said, a quick glance at James confirmed that he had hit the mark. “They don’t need to know everything at once, and we don’t need to force that choice upon Miss Nikos just yet. Let them live, for just a little while longer.”

Glynda said, “Do you really believe that they will keep this a secret from their teammates?”

“I’d be disappointed if they did,” Ozpin replied, allowing a touch of wry amusement to enter his voice. But the ease – or otherwise – with which they disobeyed his instructions would tell him something about their attitude and what he could expect from them going forward. Just as Miss Shimmer’s reaction to his threatening to reveal her secret was intended not as a leash around her neck, but to gauge how she would react to the idea that he was attempting to muzzle her.

As Ozpin pulled out his scroll and turned on the security camera footage in the elevator, he thought that his decision to see only half of each team might well be justified by what he was about to witness.

They rode the elevator down in silence for a moment, each girl lost in their own contemplations, with only the sound of the lift grinding downwards to accompany their thoughts.

And what they had to think about. Even leaving aside any questions of Professor Ozpin’s motives, good or bad, Sunset would still have had whirling thoughts. The grimm had a leader, a queen or something in that line. An enemy, a face to put to the constant menace that threatened to submerge the kingdoms beneath its malice. An enemy who wasn’t content with her hordes of grimm but who constantly gathered hopeless, wounded people like Cinder to her cause and sent them out to fight against their fellow men.

I suppose that whatever I might think about Professor Ozpin, he at least sends other people out to die for a good cause.

Salem. The name didn’t conjure up anything in Sunset’s mind; all the talk of gods of darkness beforehand meant that she was kind of imagining an evil alicorn with a colour palette of blacks and blues. That wasn’t right, obviously, but it was the best her imagination could do without anything concrete to go on.

It ought to have made things easier. One person pulling the strings of the grimm and the White Fang alike, one person behind everything. Cinder standing behind Torchwick and the Fang, Salem standing behind Cinder, and the grimm all taking her commands as well. One enemy to whom they could take the fight.

Except they couldn’t. They couldn’t fight her. The silver eyes of Summer Rose couldn’t stand against her; the strength of Atlas and its army couldn’t bring her down; all that they could do was hold her off, hold the line and pass the torch onto the next generation when all was said and done.

Sunset wasn’t sure how to feel about that. It felt bleak, it felt really bleak, but… she couldn’t have really said why. After all, from a purely logical perspective, it was no bleaker than the situation had been yesterday when – Pyrrha’s quixotic ambitions aside – there had seemed no real hope of defeating the grimm and bringing their menace to an end; all that they could hope to do was – you guessed it – hold the line and pass the torch to the next generation. But it felt different now. Learning that the grimm were not mindless beasts who could be driven off but were controlled by some diabolical entity seemed to render even the victories that they could win against them less meaningful; all the glory that Sunset could achieve here, all the fame that might be hers… it all paled in insignificance when faced with the reality of an immortal godlike figure who had all the time in the world to recover from any setback as she plotted the destruction of mankind, a destruction that she was likely to achieve with or without possession of the relics.

And that was without the question of why the relics weren’t being used against the grimm if they were all that. Professor Ozpin’s group had really shackled themselves with their insistence on keeping everything a secret.

Rainbow punched her right fist into her left palm. “This sucks. This really… gah! One thing I hate worse than getting screwed with is when I have to bend over and take it! At least when Cinder was the worst thing we had to worry about, I could tell myself I’d kick her ass next time! But this… we’re fighting someone we can’t even beat!”

“It seems that way,” Sunset said.

“'It seems that way'?” Rainbow repeated. “It seems that way because it is that way!”

“Like I said,” Sunset said. “It seems that way. But how do we know that this Salem can’t be beaten?”

“Because General Ironwood told us,” Twilight murmured.

“And Professor Ozpin told him that, I’m sure,” Sunset said. “But Professor Ozpin didn’t tell us everything, which means that there’s at least some chance he didn’t tell Ironwood everything either, which means that there could be something he left out, something he isn’t saying. Some way that this can be ended.”

“Why?” Pyrrha asked. “Why would Professor Ozpin lie about something like that?”

Sunset hesitated. “I… I don’t know, honestly. I admit it doesn’t make perfect sense. I don’t know, maybe I just want it to be true because I’d like a way to win this.”

“I’d like that too,” Rainbow said. “I just don’t know if I can see it.”

“I’m not certain I can either,” Sunset admitted, although she was curious as to what would happen to Salem if she were to run into Equestrian magic. “Maybe I just want to hope, but… there’s something that I have to do, someone that I want to talk to, before we meet up with the others to tell them all this.”

“We weren’t supposed to tell the others,” Pyrrha reminded her.

Sunset twisted around to look at her teammate where she stood behind her. “Maybe not, but we’re going to, right? You don’t actually want to keep this a secret from Jaune or Ruby?”

Pyrrha looked down at the elevator floor. “I… maybe they’re better off not knowing.”

“I don’t believe that,” Sunset said. “And I don’t believe that you believe that.”

“We just found out that everything we thought we knew about the creatures of grimm, about the world, about why we’re fighting, is a lie!” Pyrrha cried, her eyes wide. “We just found out that there is no victory, not even the possibility of it, ever! How can we put that burden on Ruby or Jaune?” She closed her eyes and scowled. “I thought that maybe we could win. I knew that it wasn’t a great possibility, but I thought that maybe, if we all worked together and fought with everything we had, then maybe… but we can’t.” She opened her eyes, and though those emerald eyes were filled with resolution, they were also devoid of hope in a way that frightened Sunset a little. “If all that we can do is fight, then I’m ready to fight. If some of us must die to protect humanity, then I’m prepared to die. But Jaune… and Ruby… Jaune wanted to be a hero like his family, Ruby wants to protect the world… how can we tell them the truth about all of this? Shouldn’t we take this burden on ourselves to spare them the weight?”

Sunset stared at her for a moment, before she glanced at the other occupants of the elevator car.

With a short, sharp gesture, she slammed one fist into the emergency stop button, bringing the lift to a halt. The lights dimmed in the car.

“I hope no one’s claustrophobic,” Sunset muttered.

“What are you doing?” Twilight said.

“I’m not Ruby, so this inspirational speech is probably going to be a bit awkward, but here goes: I’m not ready to give up just yet,” Sunset said. “And you shouldn’t be willing to give up either, any of you.

“Sure, we’ve just learned a lot of new stuff. Some of what we’ve learned is a little depressing if it’s true. If it’s true. But I’m not taking that for granted yet, and you know why? Because people have been telling me that I couldn’t do things for my whole life and I have made it my business to always, always prove them wrong. I never let it stop me before, and I certainly don’t intend to start now. So we are going to tell Ruby, and Jaune, and Blake-”

“And Ciel,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, and Penny too if you like, and we are going to work this out and find a way to beat this, because that’s who we are!” Sunset said. “We go beyond our limits, and we dare defiance of anyone who would set them on us. We’re going to screw the rules and reach for the destiny that is waiting for us. Who’s with me?”

“Absolutely,” Rainbow said.

Sunset nodded. “Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “And what… what if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What if Professor Ozpin and the others are right. What if there is no beating Salem?”

“Then we’ll set her plans back over a hundred years trying,” Sunset said. “And I’d rather burn brightly in futile glorious effort than spend my whole life sputtering like a candle in the wind.” Her face and tone became a little more serious. “Listen, even if you don’t think that there’s anything we can do to change this situation… if we accept Professor Ozpin’s offer – and I for one intend to – then we’re going to be sent out on missions, and Jaune and Ruby will be going with us. Don’t you think they should know what they’re in for and have a chance to tell us no if they want no part in this?”

Pyrrha considered it. “I… you’re right. It wouldn’t be fair to keep this from them.”

“So,” Rainbow said. “You’re gonna tell the professor that you’re in?”

“I’d rather be on the inside than pressing my face against the glass,” Sunset said. “You?”

Rainbow hesitated. “I still can’t believe General Ironwood’s involved in this… but maybe, since he’s involved in this, it’s better than it seems.” She ran one hand through her multi-coloured hair. “Hey, Twi, what do you think Rarity’s doing right now?”

Twilight checked the time on her scroll. “Today’s Wednesday, so… I’m guessing that she’ll be at work right now.”

“And Pinkie will be taking the morning bake out of the oven,” Rainbow mused, with a fond smile on her face. “Scootaloo will be in school, with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.”

“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked.

“I told the professor that I fought for my friends,” Rainbow said. “And I meant it. Whoever she is, whatever she is, if Salem wants to kill my friends – if she wants Atlas – then she’s gonna have to go through me first. I’m in.” She looked at Twilight. “Twi… if you don’t want to have anything to do with this… nobody’s going to hold it against you.”

Twilight looked down. She pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “When I heard that Cadance didn’t know… keeping secrets from the Council, is that even legal? But that doesn’t really matter, does it? If General Ironwood’s right, then all of Remnant’s in jeopardy, and we… we can do something about it.

“I don’t know what you think Professor Ozpin isn’t saying, but I still trust General Ironwood. I still remember all the times he came round to our house when I was little. When he put me on this team, he made sure that you were my team leader so that I’d have a friendly face to make me feel comfortable. If he says that it’s so, and that it has to be so, then I believe him. Maybe Sunset’s right, and there is a way to beat Salem, but until then… I know that I’m not a fighter, but if I can help Remnant by being an egghead, then I’ll be the very best egghead that Remnant has ever seen. I’m in.”

Rainbow clapped her on the shoulder. “Glad to have you, Twi.”

Sunset hit the emergency button again, and the elevator resumed its descent. “The library is probably a little too open for this, so why don’t we meet at the SAPR garage in…two hours, with our teams and Blake, and we can share everything we found out and see what we all think about… all of this?”

“Two hours?” Rainbow said. “Why wait so long?”

“Like I said, there’s somebody I need to talk to first,” Sunset said. “Someone who’s advice I need.”

What is Celestia going to have to say about all this?

Author's Note

I did not expect this chapter to be this long.

Rewrite Notes: Another chapter without much changed, mostly because this is actually one of my favourites, despite being mostly exposition.

Celestial Advice (Rewritten)

Celestial Advice

So, there it is. It’s been Sunset stopped and sucked on the tip of her pen while she worked out exactly how she wanted to…no, it wasn’t even about how she might want to describe all of this madness; it was more about how she could. She scribbled It’s been an eventful couple of days.

I cannot disagree with you. came the reply from her old mentor, because Sunset had felt the need of Celestia’s wisdom, the wisdom that came with many years and many perils faced and overcome. Twilight was there too, because this was a situation where… well, Sunset could do with some advice from both sides of the divide about this business with Ozpin. At the moment, however, Twilight seemed content to let Celestia do the talking, and honestly, Sunset was content with that as well. I have to tell you, Sunset, that the more you tell me, the more I would do anything to whisk you away from such a dangerous place as you have found yourself.

Sunset felt herself squirming in her seat in the library, as though Celestia were there in person, looking down at her with that gaze that could see through all of her deceptions. It’s not so bad.

After all that you have told me – after what you have just finished telling me – I hope very much that you don’t have such a low opinion of my intelligence as to expect me to believe that.

Sunset couldn’t help but chuckle wryly, just a little bit, before she wrote back. Okay, Remnant has its problems; sure, there are monsters who want to eat everyone, and they’re being directed by some kind of demigod who also wants to kill everyone, and she’s convinced someone that I wanted to call friend – who I might still call friend, which might be even worse – to serve her in that same cause, and sure, there are a lot of people who think I’m an animal because of the way I look, and the guy leading our fate against the aforementioned demigod might send me out to die just to advance his plans a little bit, but apart from all of that, it’s really not so bad.

Celestia did not reply for a moment, so Sunset wrote a little more. I can see your arched eyebrow in my mind’s eye, Princess.

Perhaps you can also answer the obvious question?

I can’t come back to Equestria.

I don’t understand why you would not want to. Luna told me that you had had a nightmare that she found especially terrible, and it took all of my restraint to respect your privacy and not write to you to find out if you were all right. Why would you want to stay in a world that does that to you, that pains and traumatises you, when you could return to Equestria where it is safe?

This isn’t about what I want, Princess. I do want to come back to Equestria, and if Princess Luna talked to you about my nightmare, then you must know that. I miss Canterlot, I miss the streets and the shops, I miss my room. I miss the safety and security of a world and a land at peace. I miss being able to lie down in the knowledge that everything was fine and was going to stay fine. I miss Sunset hesitated for a moment, the pen shaking a little in her hands. I miss you. I miss you so much. I miss the feeling of your coat against mine, I miss the feel of your feathers, I miss knowing that you were watching over me, keeping me safe.

I miss being able to sleep like I did back then, when I was a filly, to sleep without needing to be able to wake up in an instant and be ready to fight because the monsters are coming. I miss that.

I didn’t realise until I absorbed all of Cinder’s hatred just how tired I am from not being able to sleep like that. But I can’t come back.

Why not? Why can’t you come home? What is keeping you in that place?

It’s your friends, isn’t it?

And the Princess of Friendship gets it in one. There are other things that I could tell you are keeping me here, and they would be real things: like what would I do in Equestria now, be a second string Twilight Sparkle? I have a chance to make a difference here in Remnant, to be something, to mean something; you know what I just got offered from Professor Ozpin, a chance to stand in the circle that decides the fate of the world.

But I’m not sure how much any of that would matter if it wasn’t for them. They need me, if that doesn’t sound too arrogant. I can’t just abandon them all to run off home because things here are less than perfect. Ruby, Pyrrha, Blake, Jaune; Rainbow Dash, the other Twilight; they don’t have another world to go back to. This is the only world they have, and they have to fight for it; they have no other choice. And so, even though I do have a choice, I’m going to fight for it with them because they’re my friends. And honestly, when I say this world isn’t so bad, they’re a lot of what I’m talking about. Sure, Remnant has grimm and racism, and apparently, it has this creature Salem too, but it’s also got my friends in it, which makes it bearable. In fact, I will go further than that and say it makes it pretty good.

Some things change, but friendship is always magic.

Sunset looked at that statement for a second before she wrote back. Uh, yeah, I suppose.

Sunset, there are times when I feel as though my heart is going to burst with worry for you, and there are other times when I feel so proud of how far you’ve come since leaving Canterlot, and I am honestly not sure which I feel more at this moment.

Thank you, Princess Celestia, but I didn’t write to you so you or Twilight could feed my ego. I did it because I need your advice. Both of you, if you’ve got any.

No offence, Sunset, but where are we supposed to start? With your new magic?

Technically, it’s not magic; it’s called a semblance, and it She stopped. You know what, never mind, let’s just call it magic. I did explain semblances by saying ‘they’re a lot like cutie marks except you can’t see them,’ so I’ve got no one to blame but myself for Twilight having jumped to the association with magic.

Should we talk about that? Or the fact that you absorbed someone’s hatred and then someone else’s love? Or how about the fact that you’ve been invited to join a conspiracy that maybe runs the world or something? Or that you’re fighting a war against someone who can’t be beaten? Couldn’t you have spaced all this out a little bit for our sakes? This is a lot to take in.

You think that you have it all dropped on you at once, try being the one it actually happened to.

There was a moment of pause on the other end of the journal.

How do you feel, Little Sunbeam?

Sunset hesitated. How did she feel? After last night, after today, after everything that had happened to her and everything that she had learned, how did she feel?

Better now than I was. Between Cinder’s hatred and Ruby’s love, I’ve kind of ended up back at an equilibrium for now. But I have to say, so far, this new power really sucks. Even when I learn to control it – and I will, count on that – I still don’t know what good it’s going to be. I can learn stuff about other people, I suppose, but only if I can get close enough to touch them and only at the cost of feeling the way that they feel. If Blake hadn’t

If Ruby hadn’t

If I had gone back to the dorm last night

How much did Princess Luna tell you about my nightmare last night?

Only that it was painful. Other than that, she kept your confidence, as she always does.

I thought I’d hurt them. Her hand shook a little as she made the admission. Sunset: That was my nightmare. I was hurting them the way that Cinder wants to hurt them.

Those feelings are not yours.

But the actions would have been mine if I had let those feelings control me. And that’s the point. I got past Cinder’s hate with the help of Blake and Ruby but what if, next time, I can’t get through it? What if I do something that isn’t me? What good are powers that make me do their bidding instead of the other way around?

Do you know that it will always be that way? How do you know that, once you learn to control the powers, you won’t also learn to control the side effects of those powers?

I don’t know for sure, but what if it isn’t like that?

This is not Equestrian magic, so I fear that Twilight and I can offer you only very limited advice in this regard. All I can tell you is that nobody can force you to use any part of your power, and if you dislike any part of your abilities, if you fear this gift that has been given to you, then you need not make use of it.

I do not pretend that this is the best advice, but it is all that I can offer you in this.

Sunset wrote back quickly. Don’t worry, Princess, I don’t expect you to solve all of my problems. And honestly, ‘don’t use my semblance if I don’t want to’ is far from being bad advice. Once I can control it, I won’t have to use it at all if I don’t want to, and with Pyrrha’s help, I’m sure I’ll get a handle on it pretty quickly.

Sunset paused and rubbed between her brows with her free hand. Princess Celestia, Twilight, do you think that people are born evil, or are they simply made evil by the world and times they live in?

You’re talking about this Cinder Fall, aren’t you?

You are not her, Sunset; you are not this monster that you now oppose.

But I could have been. Isn’t that why you threw me out? Isn’t that why you expelled me from the palace, because you could see that I was becoming a monster? If I had run into Salem and Cinder had run into Ruby and Pyrrha, then she’d be here, and I’d be the one on the run while I plotted to wreak great havoc and destruction upon all things.

No, you wouldn’t.

How can you be so sure?

Because Cinder did run into Pyrrha; you told me that when you explained all the memories you got from her.

Sunset knew what Twilight was referring to at once, but couldn’t help but feel stupid that she hadn’t made the connection that Twilight had apparently made so quickly and without even the lived experience of this place that Sunset had. Just because she’s the Princess of Friendship doesn’t mean that she has to be that much better than me at this stuff, does it? Cinder saw Pyrrha once at a party, but

And that only made her hate Pyrrha more, that’s what you said.

But I hated Pyrrha too, and for the same reasons.

And then you didn’t anymore. You were able to look past your own jealousy and get to know the real Pyrrha. Even then, you were able to start opening your heart to friendship. Cinder had that chance, when she met you in Mistral, when she came to Beacon. She could have gotten to know the real Pyrrha just like you did, but she preferred to stew in her own anger and hate the idea of Pyrrha that she’d built up in her head. That’s the difference between the two of you; more than things that Cinder’s done and the things that you’ve done. Because nobody is born evil, and we all have some darkness within us, but what makes the difference more than anything else is that we’re willing to change and accept that others can change. That’s what separates you and Cinder; that – the fact that you were able to welcome friendship into your life, even more than friendship itself – is what means that you’re not a monster, even if she is.

Sunset rested her elbow on the table and her cheek upon her propped-up hand. She toyed with the pen, twirling it between her fingers as it spun before her eyes. She didn't know…but if anyone would react well to what she was about to put down it would be Twilight and Celestia.

Twilight, you know how I feel about Adam.

Yes.

Maybe it makes me a massive hypocrite – in fact, I'm pretty sure it does – but I can't hate Cinder the same way that I hate him. Even though there isn't that much difference between the two of them in terms of what they've done, and in fact, I could even see the logic in the argument that Cinder's worse than Adam. Maybe if things were different, then I'd actually make that argument.

Sunset stopped for a moment, not because she wanted a response from either Twilight or Celestia, but because she was thinking over her next words.

She couldn't have told this to anyone else, not to any of her Remnant friends. Pyrrha, Ruby, or Jaune probably wouldn't have understood; Blake probably would have been actively upset by it; only Twilight and Celestia, safely removed from all of this in Equestria and with no personal connection to anyone involved in any of this but her, would let her lay it out like this without judging her for it.

She hoped they wouldn't judge her for it anyway; she hoped that Celestia, at least, would be able to overlook the logical fallacies involved this once in order to tell her… in order to tell her what she wanted to hear at this moment.

Maybe it's just the fact that I know what Cinder went through and felt what she felt; maybe it's just the fact that I liked Cinder before I knew what she was, while I never liked Adam. I don't know; all I know is that I don't hate her the way that I hate him. I almost

Sunset hesitated again, her words teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss from which there would be no recall. Once she set this down, there could be no taking it back. It would remain as a statement of intent before the princesses, and even if she burned the journal immediately afterward, she wouldn't be able to burn the words from the princesses' minds.

I almost want to help her, even though that sounds stupid.

Stupid, Sunset Shimmer? And why in Equestria or Remnant would you think that? Has this world and its cruelty so corrupted you that the very quality of mercy seems foolish to you now?

The idea that Remnant had in some way corrupted Sunset Shimmer, when it – or at least its inhabitants – had rather proved themselves to be her salvation, caused Sunset to let out a little bark of laughter. No, Princess Celestia, it hasn't corrupted me. The opposite, more like. I suppose

Sunset hesitated, then crossed out the beginning of that sentence. You don't think it sounds stupid at all, do you?

I am afraid it worries me a little that you do. Although not as much as it gladdens me that you wish to help this Cinder Fall in spite of all that she is or has done.

In spite of it? But she's evil. She tried to kill the other Twilight, she hurt Rainbow Dash; she's working for Salem, and while I don't know exactly what she wants, I'm pretty sure it's nothing good. And yet I want to offer her a hand to help her up. Isn't that weak of me?

I prefer to say it shows compassion in you. And compassion should never be seen as a weakness to shamefully hide away from the world, still less from yourself.

I don't even know if Cinder would want my compassion.

That does not mean that it should not be offered. After Twilight and her friends used the Elements of Harmony on Luna, I offered her once again the hoof of friendship that she had refused a thousand years ago. I had no way of knowing that she would not refuse it a second time. But with my sister lying, nearly helpless, on the ground before me, I could do nothing else.

I had no way of knowing that she would accept my love, but I could not have lived with myself after if I had not offered it, whatever her response.

But how did you know that she deserved your mercy, just because you loved her?

No one deserves mercy, Sunset, and yet, everyone does. The quality of mercy is not strained, and it speaks more to the heart of she who offers it than she to whom it is offered. Forgiveness is not always easy, any more than understanding, but that does not mean that they should not be offered freely, no matter how difficult it might be to offer such or how we might feel about the person to whom we offer it.

Sunset frowned. Are we talking about Ozpin now?

I think that you’re being a little harsh in your judgement of him.

Sunset’s frown deepened as she thought about Professor Ozpin. He uses others as his weapons.

There was a pause, as there was no response from the other side of the book. Sunset waited, wondering if a response would be forthcoming or if she had written too harshly and too hastily; had Celestia decided to let it lie there, to reply with silence in order to best show how she felt about Sunset’s words?

She was about to write something else, something to let Celestia know that she hadn’t meant anything by it, when words in the slightly cramped script that Sunset recognised as Twilight’s telekinetic-writing appeared on the page.

If you could see the look on her face right now, you wouldn’t have written that. Or at least I hope you wouldn’t.

It’s quite alright, Twilight; I can speak for myself. You chide me well and cut me to the quick.

Sunset swallowed. Princess, you must know that was never my intent. I only

Spoke from the heart. There is no shame in that. But do not be too swift to judge Professor Ozpin, still yet condemn him. He merely does as do all who rule, or why do I sit here in the midst of this high-vaulted palace, sending even one who is dear as daughter to me forth to battle the darkness of the world in my stead?

Don’t talk like that; you’re nothing like him.

Really? In what way are we un-alike? In that I am older than he is by far? In that you have affection for me that you do not feel for him?

Affection? Is that all you call it, affection?

You know that I meant

Yes, I do, I’m sorry if that seemed like an overreaction. I just meant that

Sunset stopped, because she wasn’t really at all sure what she had just meant. She had overreacted, and now, she had to find some way to take it back. She hastily scribbled something down before Celestia or Twilight could write something themselves. She was mishandling this, she knew that, but… perhaps it was simply because she didn’t want to admit that she was wrong about this, but she wanted to make them understand, to see Ozpin as she saw him, to open their eyes.

Perhaps if I can do it for them, then I can do it for my friends here.

Princess, would you ever ask Twilight to do something that you thought was beyond her abilities?

I always have every confidence in Twilight and her ability to fulfil every challenge that I have set for her with the support of her friends.

With all due respect, that’s not what I asked. Would you ever set Twilight a task that you knew, for all your faith in her, that she could not accomplish?

No, of course not.

And it would grieve you if she fell in some endeavour you had set her.

How can you ask something like that?!

Twilight, please, it is a fair question. There was a moment of nothing written, and when Celestia’s writing resumed once again, Sunset could feel the weight of each word as Celestia set it down. Celestia: Yes, it would grieve me sorely to lose Twilight.

I cannot say the same of Professor Ozpin; he might set us a task beyond our abilities – considerable though those abilities are – if only because he had no one else to send. And I do not believe that he would grieve for us if he caused our deaths.

And how would you know if he did or not?

Sunset stared down at the question in a kind of disbelief. How could Celestia even ask something like that? Wasn’t it obvious? Because if he felt anything, then he’d show it.

Oh, Sunset; would that it were so.

I do not know your Professor Ozpin as you do, but I know what it is to rule. I know what it is to be elevated so far above those whom you rule that all meaningful connection to their hearts is lost, all understanding of their lives reduced to the abstract; I know what it is like to long to descend to their level and yet to be bound by chains of duty to your lonely sphere. I was fortunate that first you and then Twilight came into my life, touching my heart as – due to my age and my position – few others can. I know what it is like to make decisions touching the lives of thousands, tens of thousands, knowing that even the smallest mistake will bring great misery and maybe worse down upon them.

And I know what it is like to belong to others more than to yourself, to force your emotions down inside of you so that you may be, in the eyes of the world, ever the serene princess that they wish to see. The mask that Professor Ozpin wears in public may not please you, but I have no doubt that it is what he feels is expected of him by those around him.

Sunset stared down at the words written before her, words that were so controlled in script but so heartfelt in emotion. I didn’t realise.

I would be a poor princess if you did. It is a great burden that we bear, who make the great and momentous decisions. We forget our triumphs all too swiftly, while our mistakes stay with us forever. I doubt that Professor Ozpin regrets any error as much as I regret those which led to my sister’s madness – at least, I hope he does not – but I am sure that he regrets his own mistakes more greatly than he ever considers his successes. You think that poor Ruby’s mother died in his service?

I think it likely.

You may be assured that if it is so, then the death of Summer Rose will haunt Ozpin every day of his life, for all that he can never show that fact.

But she’s still dead. Even if I’m completely wrong about Professor Ozpin and he has an ocean of tears within that he can never shed, even if he loved Summer Rose like his own daughter, even if he loves us all as you loved me once and love me still, Summer Rose is still dead. As Pyrrha could die, as Ruby could die, as Jaune or Blake or any of them could die, and however much it pains him, they’ll still be dead.

Well, that’s where you come in, isn’t it?

Sunset blinked. What?

I can’t imagine what you’re signing yourself up for; a war without end? Against an enemy who can’t be beaten? I can’t conceive of what you’re letting yourself in for. But I can understand why you want to stay, and I respect that: you want to help your friends, protect them. If that means keeping them safe in situations where Professor Ozpin has sent you into danger, then isn’t that just what you were going to do anyway?

Sunset huffed, unable to deny that Twilight had a point there, but at the same time… at the same time, not really wanting to admit it. Well yes, but

Sunset trailed off, because there wasn’t really anything after the ‘but’ at all. There was just a ‘but’ and her feeling like a bit of an ass.

Would you really be okay with this if you were me? Even if you knew he wasn’t telling you everything?

I’m not Celestia; I don’t really have anything to do as a princess yet. I don’t rule people, I don’t give orders, I just… anyway. But I know what it’s like to have friends who I’d do anything for, and I know what it’s like to face danger, even if not as often as you do. All I can say is that if Equestria were threatened again, it wouldn’t matter whether Celestia asked me to step in or not; if there was something that I could to keep the world safe, then I’d do it, and I know that each and every one of my friends would say the same thing.

Sunset snorted and smiled at the same time. My Twilight said something similar, and my Rainbow Dash something not too far away. Sunset let out a long, slow sigh. I’m not sure if I can ever like him.

Celestia: All I can ask is that you try and understand.

Sunset nodded, for all that Celestia couldn’t see it. For you, Princess, I will make the attempt. Any advice for me in my new situation?

Don’t underestimate the magic of friendship. Although Salem may seem unbeatable, if you stick together and grow the bond that connects each of your hearts, then who knows what might happen?

And even if all you can do is delay this Salem’s progress, remember that you and your friends are here because of the efforts of those who came before you to delay her, and if you fight against evil with all the strength at your command, then the world will survive long enough for you to pass the baton on to those who will come after you. So long as there is always someone willing to take up the torch and keep the fire burning, then no matter how hard it tries, evil will never triumph.

Sunset couldn’t help but smile a little. I suppose that I should be satisfied if that is my epitaph. Doesn’t stop me wanting something grander, though. Sunset: Thank you, both of you. I needed this.

Whenever you need me, Sunset, here I am.

Here we are. Maybe, next time, try and pace the onslaught of revelations a little more?

Sunset shook her head. I’ll try my best. She closed the book and put it away in her satchel.

She was about to get up from her seat in the library when her scroll began to buzz.

Sunset got it out, opening the device to see that she had an incoming call from a number that she didn’t recognise.

Nevertheless, in spite of that – or perhaps a little because of it – she answered.

The face of Cinder Fall appeared on her screen.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The biggest change here is explicit paralleling of Celestia with Professor Ozpin.

Meet Me in Mountain Glenn (Rewritten)

Meet Me at Mountain Glenn

Sunset fought to keep her expression neutral and even, to conceal the surprise that she felt beneath a mask; she doubted that she succeeded, she could feel her ears pricked up on top of her head. They were always a giveaway of how she was really feeling; she’d never learned to control them. They were worse than her tail.

She could, at least, control the tone of her voice, keeping it calm and cool as she said, “Cinder, I wasn’t expecting to get a call from you today… or any other day, come to that.”

“Well, I had nothing else to do,” Cinder said idly. “So I thought that I’d call you up and see how you were doing.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, which meant that Cinder probably meant to look insincere.

“Thanks,” Sunset muttered dryly. She looked past Cinder to what she could see behind her: the countryside, verdant green fields and some trees beyond. No identifying markers, but it seemed fair to say that Cinder wasn’t in Vale anymore.

“You’re welcome,” Cinder assured her. “So, how was your night?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I thought about you,” she said, which was not quite a lie, even if what it implied was not quite truth, either. “Cinder, I… I’m so-”

“Stop,” Cinder said, her voice firm and suddenly drained of all pretence, all playfulness. “Stop, before you say something that we will both regret.”

Of course. Cinder didn’t want pity. Sunset hadn’t wanted pity either. Cinder was too proud, too afraid of weakness, to accept the pity even of a friend.

“You’re right,” Sunset murmured. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“And you didn’t,” Cinder said, her tone brightening. “You stopped yourself just in time, and you only needed a little reminder to do it. Because you didn’t want it either, did you?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But I’ve learned-”

“What?” Cinder demanded. “What have you learned? What have your friends taught you?”

“That it’s okay to need other people,” Sunset ventured. “That it’s okay to be vulnerable-”

“No,” Cinder declared. “It isn’t. They say it is because they have never been truly vulnerable in their lives. Do you think Pyrrha Nikos understands vulnerability? When has she ever been truly vulnerable in her entire life? If you are vulnerable, then you are weak – no, you’re worse than weak. Weak people can feign strength if they have the skill, but the vulnerable announce their weakness to the world; they draw jackals to themselves like carrion meat left rotting on the plain. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that I never sought to make myself vulnerable, but the jackals came all the same,” Sunset replied.

“That can happen,” Cinder allowed. “Sometimes, the greatest pretence of strength convinces no one, or not enough. But it is better to try and frighten them away than simply curl up and sob and wait for the pain, don’t you think?”

“What happened to you was not your fault,” Sunset told her.

“I know it wasn’t my fault, and I know exactly who’s fault it was, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t my responsibility!” Cinder cried. “I… I could not control the malice in Phoebe’s heart, I could not control my father’s choice of wife that landed me with such a stepsister, but I could control myself. I could have fought back, I should have fought back, I should have escaped sooner, I should have… I should have done something. She should have done something. Instead she cried and sobbed and was so very vulnerable. That girl was pathetic. I am something stronger, and I will be neither victim nor vulnerable again.”

“I know that’s what you think,” Sunset said softly. “Blake wants me to use what I saw to have Phoebe punished for what she did to you.”

Cinder froze. Only her eyes moved, her smouldering eyes like hot coals that seemed to grow hotter and more intense the longer they stared at Sunset from out of the screen. “You told them?” she whispered. “You… you told them?”

“I-”

“You told them?!” Cinder shrieked. “How could you? How dare you?”

“Cinder-”

“You violated my mind!” Cinder yelled. “Don’t you understand, you violated me?! I could forgive you for that because I understood that it was not your intent, but this? You… you told them?”

“I wanted them to understand-”

“I don’t need them to understand me; certainly, I do not want it!” Cinder snarled. “That is my truth, Sunset, mine and mine alone. I would rather that they think me a monster than look on me with pity or sympathy.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice had calmed a little. “Who else did you tell, besides Blake?”

“My teammates,” Sunset said quietly.

“Pyrrha?” Cinder whispered. “Pyrrha knows.”

“She doesn’t remember you.”

Cinder laughed bitterly. “Of course she doesn’t. Why would she? Why would precious princess Pyrrha Nikos remember me? Why would she have had cause to look down-”

“You do her wrong!” Sunset snapped.

“As all of Mistral did me wrong!” Cinder replied. “What is the difference between Pyrrha and I that she should have been feted and admired and lauded as a prodigy while I suffered in darkness, languished in torment, wept and sobbed and prayed for help that never came. I am as bold in heart as she – bolder, I deem – and in battle, I will match my blades against her Miló and wager that I am just as swift as she is, if not more, just as ferocious, every bit the warrior she is, if not more. And yet, she is acclaimed the Evestar of Mistral while I am… nothing.”

“Perhaps you should have entered tournaments,” Sunset suggested. “You couldn’t have done worse than Phoebe.”

Cinder stared blankly up at her for a moment, before a slight smirk creased her features. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but as Pyrrha herself has discovered, the crowns of the arena are but baubles, signifying nothing, conveying nothing of power or of true glory. My destiny is for grander and for more real things by far. Do they know my name?”

Sunset shook her head, very slightly. “No,” she murmured. “No, I did not tell them that.”

Cinder’s nod was as slight as the shake of Sunset’s head had been a moment before. “Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Blake. Anyone else?”

“No,” Sunset replied. “Not yet.”

“Not ever,” Cinder hissed. “You will not tell anyone else. Not Rainbow Dash, not Twilight Sparkle, not Ironwood or Ozpin or any of them!”

“But Phoebe-”

“I insist upon the sanctity of my past!” Cinder declared. “I insist upon the sanctity of my truth. Mine, mine to give to whom I choose or no one, mine to hold fast and keep secure. If you are my friend, then you will not deny me this.”

“I am your friend?” Sunset repeated. “Are we friends?”

“Can it be doubted?” Cinder asked. “For my part, I am in no doubt at all; I am your friend.”

“You tried to blow me up!” Sunset cried.

“That wasn’t me,” Cinder replied hotly.

“Do you deny that you’re connected to the White Fang?”

“The White Fang works for me now, yes.”

“The White Fang which tried to blow me up,” Sunset said. “Which tried to blow Ruby up.”

“Not at my command,” Cinder insisted. “Sienna Khan does not like the fact that I have assumed command of a chapter of her organisation, so she sent The Purifier to take charge in Vale, deposing Adam and myself. It was he and his cell who attacked you without reference to me, for which I killed him.”

Sunset couldn’t keep her eyes widening. “You-”

“I don’t like to share the things that are mine, Sunset,” Cinder said, and Sunset felt a shiver run down her spine as she thought about how she had said the same thing to Jaune once. “Especially with people who break the toys they play with. I made sure he understood that, before he died.” She paused. “I must say that I’m a little insulted. A bomb? I would never do that to you.”

“You would never hurt me?”

“Oh no, I’ll hurt you if you get in my way,” Cinder admitted blithely, casually. “But I will meet you in battle that ennobles warriors, face to face, as the heroes of old did. I will face you like Pyrrha facing Juturna before the walls of Mistral.”

Sunset snorted. “Bold of you to assume that you’re Pyrrha and not the other way around.”

Cinder chuckled. “I have no intention of losing, Sunset, not even to you.”

“It seems to me that you already have.”

“When you face me alone, with no support coming to assist you, it will be a very different story,” Cinder promised. The smile died from her face. “Promise me, Sunset.”

Sunset frowned. “Promise you that I won’t tell anyone else?”

“Ideally, I’d like you to stop other people from talking too, but I recognise that’s a little more difficult,” Cinder admitted. “Promise me, Sunset. As my friend.”

“As your friend,” Sunset murmured. “It wasn’t a lie then?”

“No,” Cinder whispered. “It was all real.”

“Apart from your allegiance?”

“I never told you a lie, Sunset; I merely omitted certain facts,” Cinder told her. “Please, Sunset, I have a right to ask this.”

“I know,” Sunset murmured. She closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps Cinder was telling her what she wanted to hear, but Sunset… she believed it. She believed what Cinder was saying, that it had been real and not simply a deception. She believed… that they were really friends, for all that they now found themselves on opposite sides. “I give you my word,” she vowed. “It will not pass my lips again.”

“Thank you,” Cinder said, in a voice soft and tender. “Thank you, Sunset, I… thank you.”

“Although it seems wrong that Phoebe should be able to get away with everything she did to you,” Sunset could not help but add.

“I will deal with Phoebe,” Cinder promised. “In my own time, in my own place, at my own choosing.”

“You mean you’ll kill her.”

“Can you deny that she deserves it?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But this isn’t the way.”

“What isn’t?” Cinder asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“This!” Sunset cried. “Revenge, anger, wrath.”

“Oh, really,” Cinder said, amusement tickling her voice in a gentle undercurrent. “And what should I do instead?”

“Let law and justice take their course?”

“The law?” Cinder repeated incredulously. “What law, the laws of Mistral? The laws that serve the elite, that protect the powerful? Is that the law that I should seek to wield against Lady Kommenos, last of an old and storied line? Fie on such law! There is only one law that will serve me now.”

“What law is that?”

“Nature’s law!” Cinder proclaimed. “Did you know that, in days long gone in Mistral, the common people, ground down by their lords, created gods they could appeal to against the injustice of men?”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Sunset replied. “Having no hope of punishing their oppressors on Remnant, they consoled themselves with the knowledge that the lords would pay for their crimes in the next world.”

“No,” Cinder insisted. “These gods walked among them, dealing out the justice that men denied, stalking the sinful in the night, bringing death for their offences.”

“Sounds like the grimm,” Sunset muttered.

“Perhaps that’s where it came from,” Cinder conceded. “In many works of today, they are called Furies, the name given to them by the aristocrats on whom they were supposed to prey, but the common people called them Eumenides – or Kindly Ones – for they were all whom the herdsman or the farmer could depend on kindness from.”

“Do you think that you are kind?” Sunset asked.

“Have I not been kind to you?” Cinder replied. Her lips twitched. “No. I am not kind. I am full of wrath and seek for vengeance; I am a Fury, as they named them, so be it. I am no good nor evil thing, I am Nature’s law, and I will punish-”

“Who?” Sunset demanded. “How many innocents will you punish with the guilty?”

“Innocents?” Cinder repeated. “What innocents? Who is innocent in this world so full of cruelty?”

Sunset thought of Skystar Aris and her tears. “I could name a couple,” she murmured. “Others could name more. Cinder, please, this isn’t the way.”

“So you have said, and so once more, I ask,” Cinder replied. “What should I do instead? What should I do, instead of raging? What should I do, if I cannot have justice or revenge? What should I do, Sunset Shimmer, to turn aside from this dark path that is not ‘the way’?” She waited a moment, and then another. “Answer me!”

Sunset’s mouth felt suddenly very dry. She licked her lips but did not speak.

“Say it,” Cinder urged. “You know what comes next.”

“I’d hope to avoid reaching for cliché-“

“Say it!” Cinder snapped.

Sunset sighed first, before she said, “Keep moving forward.”

“'Keep moving forward,'” Cinder repeated snidely. “'Keep moving forward,' yes, that’s what they say, isn’t it? That’s what they tell us. That is the answer to all things: keep moving forward. I should not be angry that I was hurt, that I was punished without cause, that no one would come to my aid when I was in need, no, I must keep moving forward. I cannot scream or yell or bellow in my fury, no, I must keep silent and bite upon my tongue until it bleeds so badly that I drown in my own blood and keep moving forward! I cannot visit upon my tormentor the only justice she will ever know, no, I must bow my head and bend my back for the lash and keep moving forward!”

“Cinder-”

“This is how they control us,” Cinder declared. “Don’t you see that? You must realise that. In this, the White Fang and I are one; our grievances are different, but we have seen the lie they tell to keep us on our knees. We cannot grow angry at injustice, we cannot fight to improve our condition, we cannot struggle, we cannot feel. Everything that happens, everything that is done to us, we are supposed to put it behind us as soon as it is done, supposed to let it roll off us like water and keep-”

“I don’t think that’s what it means,” Sunset said. “It’s about… Cinder, the wrath that rules you is a poison, you must see that.”

“Then let me choke on it,” Cinder hissed. “Perhaps I am not healthy in my soul, perhaps I am not in a state of perfect ‘wellness,’ perhaps I am damaged, perhaps I am broken. Well then, let me be ill, let me be cracked, let me be a shattered mirror to hold up to this world, but I will not cease my raging until I have given back to this world its fill and more of bloodshed.”

“At what cost?” Sunset demanded. “At what cost to yourself?”

“At any cost!” Cinder snapped. “I will not move. Not one step.” She smiled, if only for a moment. “I’m getting bored with talking about me. Let’s talk about you, Sunset. Let’s talk about you and where your magic comes from.”

“It’s not as interesting as what you’ve got going on right now.”

“I disagree,” Cinder replied. “I was told that only a handful of people could use magic, and you’re not one of them.”

“Prophets?”

Cinder chuckled. “If you like. As I said, you’re not one of them, and your magic is not as theirs is.”

“How do you know?” Sunset asked. “Have you seen any other kind of magic before?”

“I have,” Cinder affirmed.

“Where?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Obviously, I would; that’s why I asked,” Sunset snapped.

“Where does your magic come from, Sunset?” Cinder repeated.

“Why don’t you ask Salem, or doesn’t she know either?” Sunset replied. She took a certain amount of glee from the look of surprise on Cinder’s face and from letting that glee show on hers. “Yeah, that’s right, I know who you’re working for. So, you can talk all you want about furies and vengeance and how justified you are in your wrath, but you serve an apostle of the God of Darkness, so you have forfeited any claim to righteousness as far as I’m concerned, no matter what was done to you. You have the sympathy you do not want, but I won’t let you win.”

Cinder was silent a little while. A slow smile spread across her face. “I see the old man has been talking. I must have spooked him quite severely to get him to open his mouth. How much did Ozpin tell you?”

“Everything,” Sunset lied.

Cinder laughed. “I know that isn’t true. Do you trust him?”

“Do you trust Salem?”

“She has been good to me,” Cinder declared. “She could be good to you too, if you wish.”

“I will not join you, Cinder,” Sunset said. “I won’t abandon my friends.”

“Aww, and I thought we were friends.”

“You know what I mean,” Sunset said sharply. “I won’t turn my back on them, not even for you.”

“I know,” Cinder said. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you think that friendship makes you stronger, but it doesn’t,” Cinder insisted. “It’s what will bring you down, in the end. It’s why you’ll lose.”

“Not with Pyrrha and Blake on my side, I won’t,” Sunset muttered. “What have you got to compare to them? A lot of grimm? You don’t even have anyone to compare to Ruby.”

“And you’ve got Jaune Arc, so stop boasting,” Cinder growled. “Nobody likes a braggart.”

“I thought you did.”

Cinder chuckled. “Did Ozpin tell you that Salem can’t be killed? Did he tell you that she is immortal, unchanging, eternal as Remnant itself?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it; some of his pawns only learn that through bitter experience.”

“I’m no one’s pawn,” Sunset said.

“You are his pawn, Sunset, and you’re too smart not to realise that.”

“And what are you?” Sunset asked. “Salem’s queen?”

“Indeed,” Cinder said, her voice filled with pleasure and delight. “The black queen. The strongest piece on the board, the piece that will deliver victory to Salem.”

“What kind of queen runs from a pawn?” Sunset demanded. “The kind that hasn’t made it across the board yet, maybe? The kind that is still a pawn with pretensions, hoping to be a queen, yearning for it, dreaming of the day, dressing up in readiness… but still just a pawn on the board.”

“At least I still have my dreams; what do you dream of, Sunset?” Cinder demanded. “Where have your ambitions gone? What do you want, except to play happy found families with Ruby and Jaune and Pyrrha? Do you think you’ll get immortal glory serving Ozpin?”

“I think I will do deeds-”

“Which no one will know of, and no one will remember,” Cinder said.

“My fellows and my successors in the circle will remember what I have done.”

“For a generation, or two, perhaps,” Cinder conceded. “If it lasts that long. Do you remember when we worked on that essay on The Infinite Man?”

“I remember the Infinite Man was immortal, and he still died.”

“He was not Salem,” Cinder said. “My mistress does not make his mistakes.”

Sunset paused for a moment. “Is that how you see yourself? The warrior who wished to fight a god?”

“I am fighting much more than a god,” Cinder said. “I am fighting the world. And I will win.”

“Because the huntsmen have become complacent?” Sunset asked, remembering something else that she and Cinder had discussed.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Cinder mused. “In the meantime… well, in the meantime, I’m going to have to go soon; I’m afraid if you want to continue this conversation, you’ll have to come and see me.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Come and see you?”

“Mountain Glenn,” Cinder said. “A dismal spot, but the rent is very reasonable. I’m staying there with a few… friends.”

“And the horde of grimm infesting the area?” Sunset asked.

“What do I have to fear from the grimm?” Cinder asked with a slight chuckle. “Of course, if you don’t want to come, if you’re afraid… the choice is up to you. But I’ll be waiting.” She hung up, without waiting for Sunset to say another word.

For a moment, Sunset stared down at her scroll. Then she folded it up and tossed it down onto the table beside her magical journal.

And to think that I was feeling at peace for a moment there. Sunset sat down and leaned back on her chair, looking up at the ceiling above her. The lights caused multi-coloured blotches to appear in her vision, but Sunset was so lost in thought that she barely noticed.

She had done what Celestia would have wanted her to do and held out the hand to Cinder Fall; she just wished that she could know whether Cinder was open to receiving it in any way or if she was using Sunset’s compassion against her in some fashion.

Mountain Glenn, the last great Valish colonisation attempt and the scene of the greatest disaster in modern history. The greatest massacre in modern history, rather; all those people had not simply died of an illness or a fire or an earthquake. They had been slaughtered, by the grimm and by the callous indifference of their own government which had left them all to die.

Why would Cinder want to go to such a place? Possibly, it was the elusive White Fang base – that fit with the ‘friends’ comment – but why would the White Fang base themselves amongst a horde of grimm? How had they not been devoured by now, just like the settlers?

Because Salem spares them; they survive upon her indulgence.

All the same, surely, there were other places they could have hid out. Other places they could have gone.

There had to be a reason. A reason Sunset might find out, if she decided to go.

If she was allowed to go, because of course she didn’t have quite the final say in it all: Professor Ozpin might have something to say about it as headmaster, let alone as… whatever else he styled himself in his other role. And then there was her team…

Yes, her team. Her team whom she’d been about to go and meet anyway before Cinder called. She’d have to tell them about it. No point in sitting here turning it over and over in her mind like a puzzle that she couldn’t solve.

Of course, she wished that she could solve it, but since she couldn’t on her own… she would offer it up to the others and see if they had any better luck.

Sunset picked her scroll up off the table and shoved it into her pocket; she would drop her journal off in the dorm room, and then it would be time to head for the garage.

Time to break the news to Ruby and Jaune about what kind of a world they really lived in.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter was almost completely rewritten in terms of words, with more of an emphasis on Cinder's backstory.

Meeting Misfortunes (New)

Meeting Misfortunes

A faint smile played across Cinder’s face as she folded up her scroll. How confused must Sunset be at this moment? I bet her thoughts are awhirl as she tries to work out my angle.

I wonder if she’s considering the possibility that there is no angle? I wonder if she is considering that I might just want to see her again.

She’d be wrong to think so, of course – there absolutely was an angle – but on the other hand… on the other hand, it might be rather nice if Sunset thought she had only benign intentions.

Not that she would. She was too suspicious of Cinder for that, especially now that she knew about Salem.

That was… unexpected. Cinder hadn’t thought that Ozpin would be so trusting, especially not of someone like Sunset. She had thought that he would cling to his secrets while the foundations of the Emerald Tower crumbled beneath him. That was what Salem had told her of their opponent: that he was a man whose pathological secrecy would be his undoing.

It seemed that she had underestimated him. Cinder… Cinder was glad of that. Now that she and Sunset were firmly established on opposite sides of this war, there was a much greater chance that it would be Sunset, and not the Rosepetals or the crow or some other pawn of the old man or the general, who would be sent to Mountain Glenn in answer to Cinder’s summons.

Now that they were on opposite sides, it would be easy for them to see each other again. And, with all the secrets revealed and the deceptions fallen away, they could move forward into a new, healthier, and more confident phase of their relationship in which they really understood each other.

Because Cinder understood Sunset very well. She didn’t need an empathic semblance or a view into Sunset’s past to know the other girl as she knew herself. What mysteries there were – what kind of magic did she have, and how did she come by it? – did not change the fact that Sunset’s nature was an open book, from the way that her instinct was to seek vengeance against her enemies – whether or not her so-called friends convinced her to feel guilty about it later – to the way in which she had rendered herself – or been convinced to render herself – emotionally dependent on those same supposed friends.

Cinder hoped that she could free Sunset from those bonds at some point, because it really wasn’t healthy for her, but at the same time… not yet. For the moment, Sunset’s particular weaknesses, well, Cinder’s plan did not require Sunset’s presence at Mountain Glenn, but that presence would make her plan far, far more likely to succeed.

There was more than one kind of power: the power that General Ironwood possessed, the power of armies and weapons; the power that Professor Ozpin possessed, the power of knowledge and manipulation; and her power, the power of understanding, of using the power of others against them.

And for that, the friends she loved so well would turn against her until only Cinder remained. And Sunset, by choice or by necessity, would join with her. Salem’s cause was meant for one like Sunset: the cause of the lost, the broken, the beaten, and the damned. Sunset didn’t belong with Ozpin and his coterie of the self-righteous and self-satisfied.

She belonged on the side of the winners.

She belonged with Cinder.

Cinder smiled in a self-satisfied manner as she put her scroll away and made her way across the grassy field to where Mercury and Emerald were waiting for her beside the car which they had been given by the cultist family. It was a black, four-door SUV, not exactly suitable for off-roading, but by the time they needed to ditch the car, they would be able to walk the rest of the way to Mountain Glenn.

Lightning Dust was not with them. Cinder had sent her to scout out some smoke that she’d seen rising from a nearby copse of trees. Bandits weren’t likely this close to Vale, but she didn’t want to drive into an ambush.

Emerald was sitting on the bonnet of the car, leaning back against the windscreen, hands tucked behind her head. She looked as though she was sunbathing. Perhaps she really was sunbathing.

Mercury looked far less relaxed. He was not quite pacing up and down, but he seemed as though he wanted to. His whole body was tense with restrained energy. He looked at Cinder as she approached. “It’s done?” he asked.

“Yes,” Cinder said calmly. “It’s done.”

“And you told them where we’re going?” Mercury demanded with disbelief lacing his voice.

Cinder looked straight into his grey eyes, her gaze making him draw back a little. “That’s right,” she said. “I told her where she could find us.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure Cinder has a good reason,” Emerald said loyally, or at least she tried to sound loyal. She could not quite manage to hide the fact that she too was uncertain about this.

“Then let’s hear it,” Mercury growled.

Cinder was silent for a moment, her gaze flickering from Mercury to Emerald and then back again. “Have you ever seen a magic trick, either of you?”

“No,” Mercury said flatly.

“Then you’ve missed out,” Cinder murmured. “Because it’s really very clever. With one hand, the magician flourishes.” She held out her left palm, and a flame leapt up above her skin, drawing their eyes towards it. “And then when you’re distracted by the flourish, the other hand-” – a glass dagger appeared in her other hand as she lunged towards Mercury too swiftly for him to block; she stopped, the tip of her knife less than an inch from his eye – “-performs the trick.”

Mercury tried his best to look unafraid as he scrambled away from her, sidling along the car. “So, inviting Sunset to Mountain Glenn is-”

“The flourish,” Cinder said, “that conceals the trick.”

“They’re bound to suspect a trap,” Mercury insisted.

“Naturally, Mercury, didn’t you just hear me explain how the trick is done?” Cinder demanded. “They’ll suspect a trap. They’ll suspect that I mean to lure them all to Mountain Glenn to kill them.” Especially given that Sunset knew full well how much she hated Pyrrha Nikos; that she might bring her enemy to a dark place where there was no help and cut her down… what could be more natural than that? What more obvious conclusion was there to jump to? “And so they will congratulate themselves when they manage to survive and… derail my plans.” Cinder smiled. “Never for a moment realising that their victory was my plan all along.”

“Not quite all along,” Mercury pointed out.

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Plans change as the situation dictates. Circumstances have changed, and we must change with them. But make no mistake, we are on the verge of greatness. All those who have tried to put limits on us, to pull us down, to say what we may or may not do have failed. All that remains is to take flight for our glory and for our destiny. The sky awaits us, if only we have the courage to seize it!”

“And we will,” Emerald declared. “We’re with you, every step of the way.”

Cinder favoured her with a smile. “Of course you are,” she said.

Lightning Dust returned shortly after, looking unruffled and unconcerned by whatever it was that she had found.

“Two girls and a dog,” she announced. “One of them is armed, could be a huntress, in which case, the dog is probably trained as well.”

“And the other?” Cinder asked.

“No weapons that I could see,” Lightning said.

“Not everyone’s weapons are that visible,” Mercury pointed out, gesturing to his boots.

Lightning shrugged. “Fair point.”

“And there is no one else?” Cinder inquired.

Lightning shook her head. “I scouted around, took a look, nobody else but them.”

“What are they doing?” asked Cinder.

“Cooking a meal, by the look of it.”

“Really?” Cinder chuckled.

Easy enough to avoid them. Easy enough simply to drive past them, shielded by the anonymity of the tinted windows on their gifted car. Easy enough… but Cinder did not wish to do so. Some god, as the epics of old would have it, put the idea into her mind that she should approach these two instead. She could not claim any logic to it; there was no reason of the mind why she should take this course, but an instinct led her to it, and Cinder trusted her instincts. The same instincts had led her to the right moment and the right method to escape her home; the same instincts had led her to Salem. Instinct had brought her this far; she would humour it a little longer.

“Well then, why don’t we see if they’re in the mood for guests?”

Mercury’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Cinder said firmly, her voice brooking no further argument from him, at least not now. “Come on, I have a feeling that we will find something to our advantage.

Winona lay on her belly, her head resting on the ground. Applejack – who had a real name but rarely used it, and nobody else used it either, for that matter – reached out and scratched her faithful dog behind the ears.

A soft smile played across her face as she felt the fur beneath her fingertips. “Good girl,” she murmured as Winona’s tongue emerged from out of her mouth.

Applejack looked up to see Fluttershy sitting across the fire from her, having shuffled just around said fire so that it wasn’t exactly between them, with her sketchbook resting upon her knee, pencil in hand.

Applejack’s smile broadened. “Am I gonna be in this one, or just Winona?”

“I’ll try and get you in,” Fluttershy replied, “but I can’t guarantee you’ll like it. I’m not as good at drawing people as I am animals.”

Applejack grinned. “Ain’t we just animals, when it comes to it?”

“I… suppose so,” Fluttershy murmured. “But all the same-”

“Don’t worry about it; I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Applejack assured her. “And even if it ain’t, so long as you get Winona right, well, that’ll be fine.”

In her view, Fluttershy was selling herself short. She didn’t like drawing people the way that she liked drawing animals and birds, but that didn’t mean she was bad at it. Matter of fact, she had a real talent for drawing, at least for the animals and birds, like Applejack just said. On their trip across Vale these last few months, she had filled up her sketchbook with pictures of badgers, foxes, moles, hedgehogs, bluejays, blue tits, magpies, crows, ravens, deer… just about everything that you could imagine. She had drawn them from a distance, sketching quickly before they took wing or disappeared out of sight, and she had drawn them up close too while they, well, they darn well sat still for her, or stood still, posin’ for her like, or else – which Fluttershy seemed to prefer – just going on with their business scratchin’ trees or buryin’ nuts or buildin’ dams. Even animals that Applejack hadn’t wanted anywhere near them, like wolves or boar, Fluttershy had just said some words, and they were as gentle as newborn babies.

That was Fluttershy’s way. Fluttershy’s semblance. Twilight said that there was a whole bunch of debate around semblances, whether they reflected who you were or they were completely random or somethin’ in between – although to Applejack, all that meant was a way of sayin’ ‘its random, but some folks get kinda lucky so it seems like it ain’t for them’ – but to Applejack, it seemed pretty darn obvious that it was the first one. And if she wanted to prove it, then she only needed to point to Fluttershy, because nobody could talk her into thinking that Fluttershy’s semblance wasn’t a perfect fit for her personality and how the hell did that happen if it was all random?

There was no way that someone who loved animals as much as Fluttershy did ended up being able to talk to animals without the one followin’ on from the other.

It wasn’t just drawin’ that Fluttershy had been up to either. Over the months that they’d been out here, walkin’ from one end of Vale to the other, the two of them had seen all kinds of things: burnt out settlements destroyed by the grimm, where wild horses and wild cows had gotten used to livin’ without nobody around to feed ‘em no more and fallen back on their instincts; beasts and birds in their natural habitats; worlds untouched by man. Peaceful places, kinda creepy and hair raisin’ places, places where Applejack had been amazed that nobody had tried to settle yet, only for Fluttershy to tell her it was a good thing on account of it would have disturbed the delicate balance of nature all around. Fluttershy had taken a lot of notes, about the way those critters lived, about the things they ate and the places they slept and how they socialised. She had notebooks full of information in her backpack. Probably enough to write a whole book when they got home.

Fortunately, they hadn’t come across many grimm on their journey; part of that was that the wildlife was awfully obligin’ in lettin’ Fluttershy know if any of ‘em were close by so that the two Atlesians could avoid them. Part of it was that the wildlife was almost as obligin’ in helpin’ ‘em out if they needed the assist, like the time that ursa had been set on by a pack of wolves and brought down in two shakes of a prairie dog’s tail, all because they were fond of Fluttershy.

Of course, they hadn’t always gotten that lucky, but those times, Applejack’s gun and Winona’s teeth had been enough to get the job done.

Applejack’s lever rifle, One in a Thousand, sat on the grass beside her. Her revolver, Last Chance, was in the holster at her hip.

And the beans were almost done.

“I reckon,” Applejack said, picking up the ladle and beginning to spoon the beans out of the can and onto one of two plates, “that breakfast is just about served.”

“Thank you, Applejack,” Fluttershy said quietly, the smile remaining on her face as she put her sketchbook aside and accepted the plate from Applejack’s hands. As she settled back down, she took a look around her. “You know, I think I’ll miss this.”

Applejack looked around herself. “Miss what?”

“The peace,” Fluttershy explained. “The quiet. Nobody around.”

Applejack chuckled. “I can appreciate some peace and quiet as well as the next fella, but I’ll be glad to get back to Vale. Not that I haven’t enjoyed havin’ this time to spend with you, but it’ll be nice to be able to go to sleep without worryin’ about what might be sneakin’ up on us in the middle of the night.”

“Thanks for coming,” Fluttershy murmured. “I know that it isn’t how you would have chosen to spend your time, but-”

“Oh, don’t worry about it; I liked this just fine,” Applejack assured her. “It ain’t like I’m a city girl or nothin’. Sure, I prefer land that’s been a little more… pacified, but most days… yeah, this has been pretty sweet. Open skies and open spaces. And Winona’s had a good time too, ain’t you, Winona?”

Winona raised her head and barked.

“You’d tell me if she was contradictin’ me, wouldn’t you?” Applejack asked.

Fluttershy giggled. “Do you think we’ll be able to see Rainbow Dash and Twilight when we’re in Vale, or will they be out on a mission?”

Applejack thought about it for a moment. “It is gettin’ pretty close to the end of semester,” she admitted. “We might have missed ‘em. But we might not. I can’t rightly say for sure. I don’t know how it is up at Beacon. We’ll just have to see when we arrive, won’t we?”

Fluttershy nodded. “I suppose we will. And if we miss them, there’s always the break before the Vytal Festival.”

“And the tournament itself,” Applejack added. “Plenty of time to see ‘em. Plenty of time to tell ‘em all your stories.”

“Our stories.”

“Oh, no, this was your adventure; I was just the bodyguard,” Applejack reminded her. She grinned. “So, you got enough out of this here jaunt?”

“Oh, yes!” Fluttershy cried. “I’ve learnt so much and seen so many things I couldn’t have dreamed of. It’s been absolutely incredible!”

“'Incredible'?” Applejack repeated, laughter in her voice. “Well, don’t that make it all worthwhile, huh?”

Winona raised her head, sniffing the air, barking twice as she got to her feet.

“Winona?” Applejack asked, half-rising up onto her feet, although she remained crouched down as she reached for One in a Thousand. “What is it, girl?”

“She’s saying,” Fluttershy murmured, “that-”

“Hello there!” a figure called as she came into view, walking towards them through the trees towards their clearing. “So sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s just that my teammates and I have been on a mission for the last few days, and we were wondering if we might presume upon your hospitality, to share your fire and perhaps your food.”

Her teammates, as she had identified them, trailed after her into the clearing. The woman who had spoken was the tallest of the group, a woman dressed in a pretty red dress with fancy golden thread, the kind of thing that Rarity would have appreciated, even if she wouldn’t have worn it herself. With her choker and earrings, she looked a little bit overdressed to be traipsing around in the woods, but Applejack knew that there were all different kinds of huntresses, and they didn’t always dress practical like – the Great and Powerful Trixie bein’ a case in point. Her hair was black and long and curly and fell down in such a way that you could only see one of her eyes; it was amber and put Applejack in mind of fire as much as her dress. She didn’t have no weapons on her, least as far as Applejack could see.

Behind her was another girl, a lot smaller than her leader, with green hair mostly cut in a bowl ‘cept for a couple of long tails reachin’ toward the floor. She wasn’t wearin’ much, but what she was wearin’ was pretty practical, and she had what looked like a pair of long pistols – revolvers, at that – holstered behind her back.

After her came the only boy in the group, tall enough but not near as tall as his team leader, dressed in grey – which matched his hair, and his eyes too – and black with some kind of armour on his arms and bullets lining his boots, which was where Applejack reckoned he kept his weapons, or rather, she reckoned his boots were his weapons, some kind of gun in the soles or somethin’.

And last there was a girl who really looked dressed for a fight, in a black bodysuit with neon green flashes and some kind of backpack that reminded Applejack a mite of Rainbow’s wings, except that it had tubes of some sort coming out of it and plugging into the suit at the shoulders and sides. Was it powerin’ it? Was it some kind of armour, like Twilight had made?

This last girl was a faunus – Applejack could see her tail stickin’ out – and a tough-lookin’ one too. She had a scar on her face, and her suit couldn’t hide the muscle on her.

Applejack got up. “Howdy, fellas,” she said. “I wasn’t expectin’ to see anyone out here, but then, I guess we are gettin’ closer to Vale.”

“Truth to tell, I’m not sure that we’re supposed to be here,” the leader of the team said with a chuckle. “We were assigned to make a… I suppose you could call it a perimeter sweep, checking for any grimm activity… close to Vale, as you say. We may have gotten just a little lost.”

“Well, you’re welcome to share our fire and any food that we can spare, if you like,” Fluttershy offered. “Maybe we could all go back to Vale together?”

“The first is very much appreciated,” she replied. “The second… I think we’ll stay out here a little longer and at least try and accomplish our mission.”

“Well, okay,” Applejack said. “Sit yourselves down, y’all; the more the merrier. Y’all huntsmen, then?”

“In training,” she corrected. “Team Clementine of Haven Academy. My name is Cinder Fall, and these are my teammates Emerald, Mercury, and Lightning Dust.”

“Howdy,” Applejack repeated. “You can call me Applejack, and this is my friend Fluttershy.”

“Hello,” Fluttershy said with a wave of one hand.

“And this is Winona,” Applejack added.

Winona barked.

“Aww, she’s so cute!” Emerald cried, holding out both hands. Winona’s tongue hung out as she padded across the grass towards her, whereupon Emerald started scratching her behind the ears. “Who's a good girl? You are! Yes, you are! Yes, you are!”

Applejack chuckled as she sat back down and handed Cinder what would have been her plate of beans. “It ain’t fancy food, I’m afraid, but it’ll fill your stomach up.”

“We’re very much obliged,” Cinder said, as she took the offered plate. “I take it, Applejack, that you’re a huntress?”

“Nah, I’m just in trainin’, same as you,” Applejack replied. “I’m… I’m on a… what’s the word… I’m takin’ a break, only it’s got some fancy word.”

“Sabbatical?” Cinder suggested.

“Probably,” Applejack agreed. “I took a year out from Atlas and agreed to help Fluttershy here travel around Vale for a spell.”

“Travelling?” Cinder asked. “Anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Fluttershy answered. “It’s not about the destination; it’s about seeing how many animals and birds I can observe and document on the journey.”

“An unusual motive for travelling the world, in this day and age,” Cinder observed.

“Maybe,” Fluttershy conceded, “but it’s very rewarding. At least, I think so, anyway.”

“So,” Applejack said, “you fellas over from Haven for the Vytal Festival?”

“Yes,” Cinder murmured. “We were hoping to make rather a splash, but… things change. We weren’t quite prepared for the… quality of some of the other teams that we would find there.”

“You shouldn’t give up so easily,” Fluttershy said encouragingly. “If you work together and try your best, I’m sure you’ll do splendidly.”

Cinder smiled thinly. “Oh, believe me, Fluttershy, I’ve no intention of giving up.”

“So, if you’re staying at Beacon, does that mean you’ve met our friends Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle?” Fluttershy asked.

Cinder froze. The smile died from her face. “Rainbow Dash,” she murmured. “Did you say… do you mean to tell us that the two of you are friends with Rainbow Dash?”

“Oh, yes, she and Twilight are two of our best friends,” Fluttershy announced happily. “We-”

“Fluttershy,” Applejack murmured, a warning in her voice because the way that Cinder had suddenly started to look, the way that her eyes had narrowed, the way that she’d gone colder than a rattlesnake, it was givin’ Applejack the creeps. “What’s it to you if we know Rainbow Dash?”

Cinder didn’t reply, and neither did any of her teammates. She just stared at Applejack, stared her right in the eye.

Applejack stared back.

Their eyes bored into one another. Cinder’s eyes were about all that Applejack could see; the rest of the world just seemed to disappear around them until there was nothing but Cinder’s eyes, her amber eyes as big as Atlas itself, smoulderin’ with anger.

Their eyes narrowed. They kept on starin’, and in Cinder’s stare, there was somethin’ real nasty and no mistake.

Applejack reached for her rifle. Lightning Dust lunged for her, the muscular faunus’ body slamming into Applejack and knocking her back and onto her back. Applejack swung her fist into Lightning’s face, hitting her hard enough that she was hurled off of Applejack and tossed across the clearing, slamming into a tree hard enough to shatter it into splinters.

Applejack’s semblance was super strength, and she packed one hell of a punch.

“Run, Fluttershy!” Applejack yelled as Fluttershy took off with a squeak of alarm, Mercury at her heels. “Get ‘em, Winona!”

Winona began to growl, but then stopped. She was looking at Emerald, looking right up at her… looking right up at her the way that she looked at Applejack. What the hell? She licked Emerald’s face.

What the hell?

Applejack pulled out Last Chance, aiming at Mercury, leading him a little before she let fly, fanning the hammer to pump out one shot after another.

But Cinder was between her and Mercury, one hand held out, and shot after shot from Applejack’s revolver roared out only to slam into some kind of barrier, not even Cinder’s aura – that would have made her flinch – but somethin’ else, like some kind of shield or somethin’.

Who are these folks?

Cinder smirked, and it seemed to Applejack a nasty smirk, as a bow made of black glass formed out of nothin’ in her hand. She drew back, an arrow notched and pointed at Applejack.

Applejack threw herself to one side, losin’ her hat as she rolled across the ground, coming up on her feet and charging straight for Cinder.

Cinder loosed again, only this time, she fired too short, and the glass arrow hit the ground with a thud. Applejack leapt over it-

The arrow exploded, the heat of the blast washing over Applejack as shards of glass sliced at her aura. She hung in the air, arms and legs spread out, flailin’ wildly, and then Cinder was on top of her, her glass bow changing to a pair of swords, slicin’ and dicin’ like Applejack was a prize pig at the county fair, tearing up her aura before slammin’ Applejack into the ground and kickin’ her in the belly for good measure.

Applejack reached out for Cinder’s leg, snaggin’ it before she could get away, pullin’ her down onto the ground besides Applejack. She pulled herself on top of the other girl, first raised to pound on her until-

Again, Applejack was assaulted by shards of glass as Cinder’s bow dissolved in her grip, the glass like knives flyin’ across Applejack, rippin’ her aura apart as Cinder hurled her off of her, tossed her up into the air.

Applejack saw Cinder’s bow reform as she fell, saw Cinder lead her on, saw Cinder let fly.

The arrow struck Applejack in the midriff, and she howled in pain as she dropped to the ground like a lightning bolt, only she hurt more than the ground she hit seemed to.

She didn’t know how much aura she had left, but ‘less than the other fellas’ seemed like a pretty good guess. Still, so long as Fluttershy got away then…

I’m sorry, Apple Bloom, Applejack thought as she rose unsteadily to her feet, her hands clenched into fists.

Cinder notched another arrow onto her bow.

Her smirk broadened as Mercury returned, holding Fluttershy by the arm – and the neck.

“Your friend here has some aura training,” Mercury declared. “But I can break that before I break her neck.”

Applejack bared her teeth. “Leave her alone, you son of a-”

“Fluttershy won’t be harmed, as you will not be harmed,” Cinder said. “Yet.”

“What is it that you want?” Applejack demanded.

“Unfortunately for you, you’re friends of Rainbow Dash,” Cinder explained. “Rainbow Dash was recently… rather annoying. She put up a better fight than you did.”

Applejack snorted. “That don’t surprise me none. So this is payback, huh? Rainbow ran you out on a rail, and you’re itchin’ to get back at her for it?”

“Something like that,” Cinder admitted.

“Well, you can do whatever you want with me,” Applejack said. “You can kill me if you want to. But if you got a scrap of honest decency in you, you’ll let Fluttershy go.”

“No!” Fluttershy cried. “Applejack, you can’t-”

“It’ll be okay, Fluttershy,” Applejack told her, her voice calm and steady. Steady as a rock. “You just call Twilight, and she’ll do some fancy thing to find out where you are, and Rainbow Dash will come pick you up.”

“How very noble of you,” Cinder remarked dryly. “How very self-sacrificing. How very Atlesian, to give one’s life without a thought for those left behind to mourn for you.”

“Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do,” Applejack muttered.

“Perhaps,” Cinder said. “Or perhaps not. You see, I do not have a scrap of common decency in me. I… am above all things which bear the label ‘common.’ And yet I will not kill you, and I certainly will not release you, Fluttershy. I have better uses for the pair of you than a corpse and a messenger.”

“Really?” Applejack said. “And what use is that?”

“Bait.”

Let's Just Live (Rewritten)

Let’s Just Live

Sunset arrived at the garage last; everyone else had beaten her there and was standing slightly awkwardly, waiting upon her pleasure. Pyrrha’s back was straight, but her hands were clasped together in front of her like one the maids in her house, and her head was bowed down, chin resting upon her gilded gorget. Jaune had one hand upon her arm, which she seemed to be ignoring; he was frowning, no doubt trying to work out what was bothering her. Ruby was examining Sunset’s motorcycle, although whether she was actually studying it or just trying to look busy was something Sunset couldn’t tell.

Blake was leaning against the back wall of the garage but somehow maintaining good posture as she did so; she appeared to have decided that nobody was going to say anything until everyone was here, and so, she was reading something off her scroll while she waited.

Rainbow Dash, in contrast with Blake, was slouched, her arms folded across her chest, one leg cocked and foot pressed against the wall. Twilight was looking at her, holding one arm with the other; like Pyrrha, her head was bowed. Ciel stood at ease, hands clasped behind her back, looking out of the garage and into the middle distance. Penny looked utterly lost.

It was the reactions of Pyrrha and Twilight that worried Sunset the most; she thought she’d gotten them both past this.

Mind you, I guess that ‘this’ is a lot. More than one speech can be taken care of, maybe.

“I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting,” Sunset murmured.

“It’s fine, Sunset,” Pyrrha assured her. “We haven’t been here long.”

“Although we do look a little stupid all standing around in a garage like this,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Well, that,” Sunset replied, “is why we’re going to shut the door, isn’t it?” She clicked her fingers, and the door into the garage descended behind her with much grinding and clunking before it finally completed its downward progress, enclosing them all inside – and in impenetrable darkness.

“Might have been nice if you’d put the light on first,” Rainbow pointed out from out of that same darkness.

Sunset raised her hand, and a ball of glowing magelight rose from out of her palm to drift lazily upward into the centre of the garage, illuminating all within.

“Showoff,” Rainbow muttered.

Sunset smirked briefly at her. Her tail swished behind her as she ran her eyes around the room. “Thanks for coming, everyone.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaune said. “We all want to know what Professor Ozpin told you.” He glanced at Pyrrha. “I mean, I think we do. Do we?”

You may well ask, Sunset thought. “I… that’s something that you’ll have to decide for yourself, but you deserve to know.”

“That… doesn’t sound great,” Jaune pointed out.

“Well…” Sunset trailed off for a moment, “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Why don’t you start with Cinder?” Blake suggested, putting her scroll away. “That way, we can get the small stuff out of the way before we move on to what you learned from the headmaster.”

Sunset pursed her lips together. “I… I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she murmured.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked, surprised.

Blake frowned. “You can’t?”

“That’s right,” Sunset replied. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Rainbow asked.

“Sunset knows about Cinder’s past,” Blake said.

“Is that what Professor Ozpin and the General wished to discuss?” Ciel asked.

“No,” Rainbow said. “This is something else.”

“'Something else' is right,” Sunset muttered. She raised her voice to add, “And Blake is right, for what it’s worth. While Cinder and I were fighting, I… I discovered my semblance. My real semblance, not the magic that I’ve been passing off as my semblance.”

“Really?” Twilight gasped. “That’s incredible! What is it? No, don’t tell me; if it let you see Cinder’s past, then… you’re a telepath?”

“I wish it was that simple,” Sunset said. “Or that cool. I’m only a touch telepath. And an empath.”

“You are an empath?” Rainbow repeated incredulously.

“The irony has not escaped my notice,” Sunset said with a sigh as her ears pressed down against her head. “However, although it did give me some glimpses of Cinder’s past, I will not be sharing those glimpses with you,” – she glanced at the friends she had already told – “and I would thank you not to spread the word any further either.”

“Why?” Blake demanded. “I don’t understand; you said that you would tell them.”

“It does seem rather strange to suddenly refuse,” Pyrrha murmured. “I trust there is a reason for it.”

“There is,” Sunset assured her. She took a deep breath. “I promised Cinder that I wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

Silence descended upon the garage, at least for a few moments.

“Uh, you promised Cinder?” Ruby asked.

Sunset nodded. “That’s right. She wasn’t happy that you four knew the truth about her past – she isn’t even happy that I know – and she certainly doesn’t want anyone else to know.”

“And when did she tell you this?” Rainbow demanded.

“Just now, when she called,” Sunset said blithely.

“You’ve got a pretty casual way of bringing that up!” Rainbow cried.

“I was going to mention it at some point,” Sunset responded. “We’ve got a lot to get through, if you recall, and Cinder calling me up isn’t even the most important thing that we’ve found out today. The point is that she called, she was not happy to find out that I hadn’t kept her secret, and I promised not to spread the word any further than I already had.”

“So you will say nothing?” pressed Blake. “You’ll just let… you’ll just let them get away with it, with everything that they did?”

“That’s what Cinder wants,” Sunset said softly.

“Just because it’s what she wants doesn’t make it right!” Blake cried. “It doesn’t even make it what she needs!”

“I made a promise,” Sunset declared. “I gave my word.”

“Your word to an enemy,” Ciel pointed out.

“Even enemies can show respect to one another,” Pyrrha replied. “I know… I know full well what kind of struggle we are engaged in, what kind of enemy we fight… but so long as may at once face our enemies with unyielding resolve upon the battlefield and then treat them with gentle courtesy off of it… then I believe things are not yet as bleak as they may appear.” She paused. “More to the point, even if we cannot treat our enemies that way, it is no excuse for treating our friends in a manner unbecoming. We have no right to force Sunset to break her word, solemnly and sincerely given, and I for one will not be a party to doing so.”

Ciel said, “In Atlas, we have a saying: ‘honour ends when the kingdom begins.’ If you have any information that is of strategic interest against our enemy, then it is not enough to simply say that Cinder does not wish it to come out. Of course she does not, but we must have it nonetheless.”

“There is no strategic interest in it,” Sunset said, and spoke true according to her lights; what could they gain from Cinder’s past that would help them defeat her in the present? “Nothing but a past which… which Cinder is entitled to keep to herself. Something I should have remembered before I told any of you.” It was ironic, to an extent, that the reason she had been so quick to divulge Cinder’s past was because Cinder’s own emotions had prevented Sunset from thinking clearly.

Makes a change from my own emotions tripping me up, I suppose.

Ciel glanced at Pyrrha, and then at Blake. “Is that correct?” she asked. “Is there no value in this information Sunset holds?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied immediately. “None that I can think of.”

Blake hesitated, silently, her golden gaze fixed upon Sunset.

Please, Blake, do not make a liar of me. Sunset’s tail began to curl upwards in anticipation.

“Nothing,” Blake admitted curtly. “As Sunset says, it was… just her past.”

“I see,” Ciel murmured. “Very well, if you will have it so, then let the matter be closed.”

Sunset’s tail unwound down to the floor. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The tightness of Blake’s mouth suggested that she wasn’t thrilled with this, but she said, “If this is what you both want, then…” – she managed to raise a smile – “who am I to complain about wanting something that isn’t necessarily what you need?”

“That’s it?” Penny asked. “You don’t want to know?”

“We are soldiers, Penny, not grocery store gossips,” Ciel explained. “We have no need of every detail of Cinder’s youthful comings and goings in order to defeat her. We have sent her running once without already.”

“I know,” Penny conceded. “But aren’t knowledge and learning supposed to be a good thing? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

“And I am correct, in the main,” Ciel asserted.

“These things are complicated sometimes, Penny,” Rainbow told her. “Sometimes… sometimes your enemy is… it's complicated.”

“Speaking of Cinder,” Blake said, “I was just looking at the news before you came in; nothing about Cinder or her attack on the CCT.”

“Maybe no one cares?” Jaune suggested.

“An attack on the CCT, the keystone of communication across Remnant, and no one cares?” Blake replied incredulously. “I’m sorry, Jaune, but I can’t believe that.”

“More likely, it hasn’t been made public yet,” Sunset said. “Professor Ozpin is sitting on it.” He does like his secrets after all.

“How long can that last?” asked Ruby. “I mean, everyone at school knows what happened; they all know it was Cinder, right?”

Jaune nodded. “Everyone who was at the dance heard it from the Atlesian specialists.”

“Maybe Professor Ozpin and the General don’t want to keep it a secret forever; they just want to control how they manage the story,” said Twilight.

“That is plausible, and sensible besides,” Ciel said.

“While we’re still on Cinder,” said Rainbow, looking at Sunset, “I take it that she didn’t just call you up to ask you to keep her past to yourself?”

“No,” Sunset answered. “She didn’t. She asked me to come and meet her… at Mountain Glenn.”

“Mountain Glenn!” Ruby gasped.

“Do you know it, Ruby?” Penny asked.

“You ought to recognise the name too, Penny,” Ciel informed her sharply. “It was covered in Doctor Oobleck’s history class.”

“It was?” asked Rainbow Dash.

Ciel was silent for a moment, before she glanced upwards – heavenward, rather than at the ceiling, to Sunset’s guess – and muttered, “These things are sent to try us.”

“You know what Mountain Glenn is, don’t you, Jaune?” Sunset asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune replied, not sounding as convinced of it as Sunset would have liked, but convinced enough for her to give Rainbow a smug smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I knew you were a slavedriver already,” Rainbow muttered.

Blake tutted. “You two. Now, of all times?”

“So what is Mountain Glenn, Jaune?” Penny asked innocently.

Jaune hesitated, and it began to look as though Sunset would find her smirk turned back against her by Rainbow Dash, when Ruby spoke up and said, “Mountain Glenn is the biggest disaster in the history of Vale since the Great War. It was supposed to be the biggest new settlement established by Vale – maybe by any of the kingdoms – ever. Not just a village or even a town but a whole new city, southeast of Vale, at the southern tip of the mountains.”

“Never figured you for a history buff,” Rainbow observed.

Ruby smiled, if only faintly and for a short while. “I… didn’t learn this from books,” she admitted. “Mountain Glenn had been founded just before my parents came to Beacon; according to my Dad, and Uncle Qrow, this was the biggest thing that was happening at the time: humanity was reclaiming territory from the grimm. There was even talk of using Mountain Glenn, once it got set up, to drive on and recolonise the eastern territories lost in the Great War, without having to go over the mountains to do it.” Ruby frowned. “From Mom’s diary, it doesn’t seem like she thought that would happen, or maybe it’s that she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to happen.”

“If Summer Rose came from beyond the kingdoms, then it would be natural for her to have mixed feelings about the kingdom extending into that beyond territory,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I guess so,” Ruby agreed. “And I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“The old story,” Ciel murmured.

“I don’t get why anyone wants to move to these new colonies,” Rainbow observed. “I mean… if you want to move outside the kingdoms to get away from the man, then fine, I think you’re nuts, but okay. But if you move out to a new settlement, you’re still part of the kingdom, only it's more dangerous, and there’s nothing to do.”

“Canterlot’s a colony,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, okay, but it’s not a new colony,” Rainbow replied.

“Everything has to start sometime,” Twilight reminded her.

“I guess,” Rainbow muttered.

“Like I said, this wasn’t just a town or village with nothing but farms and houses,” Ruby said. “This was a whole city, and Dad said that by the time he was in school, you could hardly move in Vale for ads trying to persuade people to move to Mountain Glenn: there was supposed to be a swimming pool in every apartment building and homes that people could actually afford. Apparently, lots of people moved out there.”

“But Vale couldn’t protect them?” Penny murmured.

“No,” Ruby said sadly, bowing her head a little. “I suppose everyone must have thought that once it became established as human territory, the grimm would stay away. You know how rare it is for a horde to come too close to Vale because, well, because they know we’ll stop them, I guess.”

“That is the general assumption in colony planning,” Ciel said softly. “It is… not always accurate.”

Ruby shook her head. “At Mountain Glenn… the grimm just kept coming. Until there was no stopping them.”

“Did they get the people out?” asked Rainbow Dash. “When the levee broke?”

“Some, maybe,” Ruby whispered. “Not enough.”

“How awful,” Penny moaned. “But… why would Cinder want to go to a place like that? Does anyone live there now?”

“Nobody,” Twilight told her. “It’s a dead city. A necropolis slowly crumbling into ruin. A monument to the hubris of mankind.”

“Hubris, indeed,” Pyrrha said despondently. “The hubris of believing that we can make a difference.”

“We can,” Sunset insisted.

“Pyrrha,” Jaune murmured, “what are you talking about?”

“I’ve never heard you say anything like that before,” Ruby added anxiously.

“We’ll get to that in a little bit,” Rainbow assured them. “Let’s stay on Cinder for now and her invitation which one hundred percent sounds like a trap.”

“Quite,” Ciel agreed.

Rainbow looked at Blake. “Do you think that Mountain Glenn could be the White Fang base?”

Blake frowned. “I… I’m not sure. When I was in the White Fang, we would never have gone anywhere near a place like Mountain Glenn; it’s infested with grimm, and we avoided places like that. Yes, we wanted secluded hiding places, but we also wanted safe ones. I know that it’s been some time since I was part of the White Fang, and I know that things have changed in my absence, but have they changed that much? How could a place like that be safe? If the White Fang established a base in Mountain Glenn, then surely they would have all been devoured by now? Adam would never sacrifice his people like that.”

“What if the White Fang aren’t there?” Jaune suggested. “What if Cinder isn’t there either, or going there for that matter? What if this is just about luring Sunset – and maybe the rest of us – to a place where we can get devoured by the grimm. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

“What do you mean?” Sunset asked.

“I’m talking about the Emerald Forest and the practical exercise,” Jaune explained.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You think that was Cinder?”

“I think that we should consider that the person who tried to kill Twilight last night might have been the same person who tried to kill us before,” Jaune said.

“We don’t know that anyone tried to kill us before; what happened in the forest could have been an accident,” Sunset replied. “Nobody was accused of deliberately engineering what happened in the test, and there’s certainly nothing linking it to Cinder.”

“She tried to blow you up!” Jaune cried. “And Ruby!”

“That wasn’t Cinder either,” Sunset maintained. “She told me so herself.”

“That’s reliable,” Rainbow muttered.

“She told me that she did not bring The Purifier to Vale, that he was sent by the leader of the White Fang to take control away from Adam and from her. He was never under her command, and he never acted under instructions,” Sunset informed them. “I believe her.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said gently, “I know that… as much as you liked Cinder, in light of what we know about who she is and… and who she serves, I think… it seems that… she was never your friend.”

Sunset’s tail started curling upwards. “I don’t believe that either,” she whispered.

“Are you going to be okay?” Rainbow asked.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, and her ears flattened down against the top of her head. “Why do I get the impression you’re not asking out of concern for my wellbeing?”

“Because we both know that we might end up going up against Cinder again, and I want to know if I can trust you,” Rainbow demanded. “Are you going to have our back?”

“Of course I’ll have your back,” Sunset snapped. “I have always had… okay, your back, I have not had, but come on! I was there for Blake more than once, I got stabbed for Twilight, I have always fought for my team when they needed me, so don’t you dare come at me with this ‘how do I know that I can trust you’ crap! Just because you’re General Ironwood’s precious protégé doesn’t mean that I have to take stuff like that from you!”

She snorted, more like a bull than a unicorn, and ostentatiously turned her back on Rainbow Dash, who could go to hell for all she cared. Was she going to have their backs? Insulting! There may have been a time when Rainbow could look down on Sunset like that, but that time had passed long ago. They were equals now, as team leaders and as members of this secret society, so Rainbow Dash could knock it off.

“Sunset, I’m sure that Rainbow didn’t mean anything by it,” Twilight ventured. “She didn’t mean to upset you-”

“Yeah, well, she did,” Sunset snapped. She turned back to face everyone. “I will not allow anyone in this garage to die!” she declared. “I will fight for everyone here.” She spun a circle with one finger to encompass them all. “And I will bring you all back home safe, that is my vow. And if that’s not enough for you-”

“It is,” Rainbow said, taking a step forward. “I just… I’m sorry.” She took another step forward, her ears drooping with contrition as she offered her hand. “I know that having a friend on the other side of the line can… can make things difficult. Can make choices difficult. I just wanted to make sure where you stood.”

Sunset looked at Rainbow’s hand without taking it. “Where I stand is with them,” she declared, gesturing to her team with one hand. “With you,” she reached out and clasped Rainbow firmly by the hand.

Rainbow nodded. “Well, okay. So, Mountain Glenn, you’re going to run it up the line, right?”

“Yes, I’m going to tell Professor Ozpin about it as soon as we’re done here,” Sunset said. “And I’m under no illusions, yes, it’s a trap. Cinder said she wouldn’t try and blow me up, but she admitted that she’d stab me in the front. Like the heroes of old who respected one another so much that they fought like demons to spill one another’s blood upon the soil.”

Pyrrha sighed. “That is one valid interpretation of the legends, certainly.”

“So, if it is a trap,” Jaune said, “then we should ignore it, right?”

“That’s for the General to decide,” Rainbow said. “But sometimes, even when you see a trap, you’ve got no choice but to walk into it anyway.”

“What?” Jaune cried incredulously. “Why?”

“To see what kind of jaws slam shut on you when you do,” Rainbow explained. She grinned. “That’s when you gotta hope you’re tougher than whatever it is waiting for you.”

“I still don’t understand,” Penny complained. “How could Cinder or the White Fang or anybody survive in a place that’s been overrun by grimm?”

“That is a valid question,” Ciel agreed.

“It’s also the main reason why we asked you to meet us here,” Pyrrha murmured. She glanced for a moment at Sunset, as if she would rather that her team leader should take the, well, lead on this, but despite the look, she nevertheless went on, “This is what we learned from Professor Ozpin and from General Ironwood. You see… what we discovered is…” – she took a deep breath, and raised her head – “the grimm have a leader. A mistress, as Professor Ozpin called her. Her name is Salem, and she commands them… as she commands Cinder, and her team, and by the sound of it, others like her. Professor Ozpin describes that she gathers followers to her side to be her agents. Or her weapons, as the professor put it.”

“Commands the grimm?” Ruby repeated. “How? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Professor Ozpin didn’t say.”

“Which doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know, just that he didn’t tell us,” Sunset interjected.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured disapprovingly.

“What?” Sunset demanded. “I’m sorry, but I was right. The headmaster is more than we thought he was; he knows a lot more than he lets on, and he gives out his knowledge according to his own designs; he didn’t mention magic once or the four prophets or Ruby’s silver eyes-”

“None of which was relevant,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“According to his definition of relevance,” Sunset replied.

“He probably thought that he had told us quite enough for one day,” Pyrrha said sharply. She frowned. “Personally, I am… inclined to agree with him. This is enough to take in already.”

“I do wish he’d explained what it means to command the grimm if he knew,” Ruby muttered. “Like, if we kill Salem, then does that mean all the grimm will die, like in a video game?”

“Probably not,” Jaune said. “I don’t know, but I don’t see how it could work like that. If it did, someone would have taken her out already, right?”

“Your logic is sound, but I am nevertheless sure that someone has not, as you put it, taken her out already,” Ciel declared. “The death of an enemy commander-”

“She can’t be killed,” Rainbow said.

Penny and Ciel both looked at her.

“She… can’t?” Penny repeated, her mouth forming an O of disbelief.

Ciel blinked. “Come again?”

Rainbow sighed. “I asked the General the same thing. I asked why we hadn’t taken her out already, and the answer is that we can’t. She’s immortal, and invincible.”

“Even with-”

“Even with,” Rainbow agreed. “By the sounds of it, we could hit her with the biggest guns in the fleet, and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.”

Ciel stared at Rainbow Dash. “There is… that is… that means… I see.” She turned away. “That is indeed a piece of information.”

“Ciel-” Twilight began.

“Thank you for informing me of this,” Ciel said, stiffly and sharply, cutting off Twilight’s attempt at consolation.

“So the grimm… they’re not just mindless creatures,” Jaune murmured.

“They might be,” Sunset said. “Some of the time, at least. I don’t think that everything they do is part of someone’s master plan, but… at the same time, Salemcan direct them. At least a bit. We think. Like we said, Professor Ozpin wasn’t exactly clear on his terms. What we got was the… general outline.”

“Did they say why she’s doing it?” Ruby asked. “Why anyone would want to control the grimm, spread destruction and death and chaos all across Remnant? Who would want power like that? What does she want?”

“Our deaths,” Pyrrha replied, her voice startlingly gentle for the subject matter. “Our deaths… and four relics left behind by the gods.”

“The gods?” Jaune repeated. “The gods are real?”

“Two gods,” Sunset explained. “One of light, one of darkness.”

“The Two Brothers,” Pyrrha added.

“I took the road from Mantle to Alasius, but tarried in a certain place along the way because the sun was setting,” Ciel said, and it sounded like recitation to Sunset’s ears. “I thought it a terrible place: no house, no hearth, little shelter from wind or cold or creatures of grimm. But that night I dreamed a ladder set upon the earth and reaching towards the heavens, and atop the ladder stood a shining figure made of light, and He said ‘I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places wherever thou goest; I will not leave thee.’” She paused. “A figure made of light. A god of light, if you will.”

Sunset frowned. “If you believe in a god, then why do you always pray to the Lady?”

“Because the Lady of the North was chosen to stand between us and Heaven,” Ciel explained. “To intercede on our behalf with a god who has little use for us, sinful creatures as we are. Through her example, we may approach divinity; through following in her footsteps, we may live as she did, with virtue and grace in equal measure. And we may do our duty, as she sought to all her life. We are not worthy of God’s consideration, but we may earn the Lady’s aid, and even if it is not so, then by following her teachings, we may overcome our trials without it. The Lady smiles on those who keep faith and march onwards.”

“That’s probably wise of you,” Sunset said. “According to Professor Ozpin, the gods aren’t doing much these days.”

“Why would they be otherwise than quiescent, men being as they are?” Ciel asked. She paused. “I confess these relics are new to me.”

“Join the club,” Rainbow invited her.

“What are they?” Blake asked.

“You might have heard of them by other names, Blake,” Twilight said. “Apparently, some, if not all, of the mythological devices in, well, mythology have their roots in the relics: Caliburn, the Crown of Wise King Paul, magical objects of that kind, all the relics.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “I… I see. Four relics, you say?”

“Four relics for the four aspects of the divine, as Professor Ozpin put it,” Pyrrha agreed. “Creation, Destruction, Knowledge, and Choice. Salem seeks these relics as much as she seeks our destruction, for if she obtains them…”

“Bad things,” Rainbow said. “Very bad things.”

“How come nobody knows about any of this?” Blake asked. “How come nobody knows about it?”

“Because Professor Ozpin is keeping it that way,” Sunset said.

“That’s a rather harsh and, if I must say so, rather slanted way of putting it,” Pyrrha observed.

Sunset shrugged. “It also happens to be accurate.”

“Professor Ozpin is the current leader of a group,” Pyrrha said, offering her own explanation. “Of which General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch are also members. They are… a secret society, you might call them, dedicated to opposing Salem and keeping the relics out of her hands.”

“Opposing how?” Jaune demanded. “She can’t be killed, she won’t die; what’s to stop her getting the relics, and how can Professor Ozpin stop her?”

“Professor Ozpin doesn’t stop her; he uses people like us,” Sunset said. She looked at Ruby. “People like your mother.”

Ruby gasped. “My… my mom was-”

“Yes,” Sunset said, her voice becoming hoarse and her throat clogged up a little with phlegm. “Your mother was a part of this group. We follow in her footsteps.”

“That could have been put more gently, don’t you think?” Pyrrha asked.

“How?” Sunset demanded.

“You could have not simply dropped it into the middle of the conversation?” Pyrrha suggested.

“It’s fine, Pyrrha,” Ruby assured her, although her head was bowed, and she did not look up. “I guess… I guess that if I’d only read further ahead in Mom’s diary, then I would have seen this coming.” She looked up, a sad smile upon her face. “If I’d done what Raven said and read faster, then I would have known all of this before you did, I guess. Unless it was too secret for Mom to write it down. You… you still didn’t answer Jaune’s question, though.”

“We are protected by the nature of princes,” Sunset declared. “Just as Professor Ozpin will not leave his tower to do battle, so too Salem will not come forth from Drachyra to obtain that which she desires. Any stretching forth of her hand she does is strictly metaphorical. Like her opponent, she works through her agents.”

“Agents like Cinder,” Pyrrha added.

Jaune nodded. “So… so the answer to Penny’s question, about how she or the White Fang could survive in Mountain Glenn, is because-”

“Because the grimm won’t harm her or her allies,” Blake murmured.

“We don’t know that,” Sunset said. “But it makes sense.”

“As much sense as any of this does,” Rainbow muttered.

“It doesn’t feel right that this should all be kept a secret,” Ruby said. “If people knew the truth, then-”

“Then they would despair, I fear,” Pyrrha said softly. “As, I must confess, my own heart quailed when Professor Ozpin told it to me.” She glanced at Sunset. “I think Sunset is the only one who was not afraid.”

Sunset looked away. “Ordinarily, I’d welcome being put on a pedestal, as well you know, but right now… I just didn’t want to see you all lose heart. I don’t want any of you to lose heart. Professor Ozpin has chosen to keep this a secret. He even asked us to keep this a secret from the rest of you. Obviously, we haven’t done that, but I’m not sure about telling anybody else.”

“You mean you want me to keep this from Yang?” Ruby asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. Put so baldly, it seemed quite a lot to ask. “You’ll have to use your own best judgement on that,” she said, which was a complete cop-out on her part but also probably the most honest thing that she could say to Ruby upon the subject. She paused for a moment. “I think that’s everything, don’t you agree?”

Pyrrha also took pause a moment before she nodded her head. “I think so too, unless anyone has any questions?”

“Do you know where the relics are?” asked Ciel.

“No,” Rainbow answered.

“Was my Dad or the rest of their team-?”

“We don’t know that either,” Sunset answered before Ruby had even finished. “I’d say ask him, but that might make things awkward if he doesn’t already know. Maybe your mother’s diary will have some answers.”

Ruby nodded. “Maybe.”

Sunset glanced around the garage. Most of the expressions that confronted her were grim, or else confused, or sad in Ruby’s case, or a mixture of all three. “I know that this is a lot to take in-” she began.

“Indeed,” Ciel cut her off. “It is not every day that you learn your commanding officer is part of a conspiracy.”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Twilight said. “I’m sure that General Ironwood is doing what he thinks is best, for Atlas and for Remnant.”

Ciel glanced at her out of the corner of her blue eyes. “I suppose that the word has pejorative meanings, but I did not mean it pejoratively. I am merely… surprised. General Ironwood is not the kind of man I would have thought to stand in shadow, nor fight a war in the darkness out of sight.”

Jaune ran one hand through his mop of untidy blonde hair. “I… I don’t know what to say. Where do we even start?”

“We start where we always started from,” Ruby said, her voice unwavering. “With what we came to Beacon for in the first place.”

All eyes turned to Ruby Rose.

Sunset could not keep the smile off her face. “This doesn’t change anything for you, does it?” That’s our Ruby Rose.

The silver in Ruby’s eyes seemed to gleam a little brighter now than it had done before, as she said, “I never wanted to… I never thought that I could save the whole world.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “No, you didn’t, did you? Only I, in my vanity, thought that.” She paused. “I fear that we have reached the end of vanity.”

I hope not, Sunset thought. For to reach the end of vanity is to reach the death of self, for if we cease to love ourselves then… do we not also cease to be? What is Sunset Shimmer without her vanity?

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Ruby complained apologetically, a difficult feat which she pulled off with aplomb by some miracle known only to herself.

Pyrrha smiled sadly at her. “I know you didn’t,” she murmured, “but nevertheless…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ruby, I shouldn’t have interrupted you.”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said. “The point is… I don’t see that this changes very much. I mean, I’m glad that you told us everything, because I hate the idea of the two of you going on these dangerous missions without me and Jaune, and I kind of hope that Dad and Uncle Qrow know about all this for the same -” She staggered. “Do you think that’s why Raven left?”

“Come again?” Sunset asked, thrown by the sudden leap in Ruby’s logic.

“If my mom knew,” Ruby explained, “and if my Dad and uncle knew, which I think they did, then Raven must have known too, right? And it would explain what she meant about Ozpin and wanting to get me to read Mom’s diary. She thinks that the answers are in there, and she wanted us to find them out before… maybe she thought that Professor Ozpin would tell me instead of you two.”

“Possibly,” Sunset conceded. “But what does this have to do with leaving?”

“Maybe she was scared?” Jaune suggested. “It is a lot to find out.”

Sunset sighed. “I really wish you hadn’t said that, Jaune,” she muttered, her eyes flickering across the room. It was like a flea had leapt from Jaune’s mind into hers, and now, she couldn’t help but scratch the itch, the itch of wondering who would be the Raven here, who would be the one to forsake all bonds and be so cruel and heartless as to abandon the team to-

Oh, Celestia; it’s me, isn’t it?

“Stop it,” Blake said firmly.

“Stop what?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Blake declared. “I can see your mind working, and I’m telling you to stop it.” She took a step forward, and another, until she was standing in the centre of the garage. The ball of magelight began to move slowly towards her, casting her in the brightest light in the room.

“Perhaps I’m not somebody who should be talking about trust,” Blake said, “and the truth is that… before I came to Beacon, before I met all of you, I wasn’t somebody who would have talked about trust. The only person I had really trusted in years was Adam, and he… you all remember what I was like,” she whispered. “You remember what I was like when the year began, or when you arrived at Beacon: suspicious, closed off, someone who thought that she had to do everything by herself. But I don’t think that anymore because you’ve opened my eyes. You’ve opened my heart. I’m alive thanks to some of you here, but more than that, I think I’m a better person than I was, thanks to all of you here. And for that, I will always be grateful. And because of that, I say that I trust all of you here with my life. That was true before we found out the truth about Cinder Fall, it was true before Sunset walked into this garage, and it’s true now. I don’t believe that anyone here will betray us, or run away and abandon the others, or do anything except stand alongside the rest of us, together, comrades… friends. I believe, no, I know, that anyone who decides to get involved in this will until…”

“Until the end?” Pyrrha suggested.

“Until we are released,” Blake clarified. “After all, if Ruby’s father was involved in this business, then he must have been let go at some point to raise his daughters without any knowledge of it.”

“Marry Sun quick and make your escape,” Sunset urged, a smile pricking at the corners of her mouth.

Blake responded with a look of amused disdain.

“So it doesn’t bother you?” Rainbow asked.

“It bothers me that the White Fang have gotten into bed with someone who wants to destroy everyone and everything,” Blake admitted. “Hopefully – and I hope too that Cinder was right about The Purifier, because if Sienna Khan feels that she’s lost control of Adam, then that gives me cause for hope – the rot is only confined to the Vale Chapter.”

“And Salem?” Rainbow pressed.

Blake was silent for a while. “Salem,” she said quietly. “Salem doesn’t change what I have to do. She doesn’t change… anything, for me.”

That would be a lot more reassuring coming from someone who didn’t seem set on getting themselves killed before the year ends, Sunset thought with only a touch of sourness.

Judging by the way that Rainbow’s eyes had narrowed as she looked at Blake, Rainbow was feeling much the same way.

“That’s what I was trying to say, before I got sidetracked,” Ruby added. “I didn’t… well, I won’t start again because you heard that part.” She grinned sheepishly. “Also I’m kind of worried about any more interruptions.” She laughed nervously. “The point is that I came to Beacon so that I could learn to become a huntress. So that I could help people. And finding out that the grimm are controlled – or controlled some of the time, at least – by an immortal monster or that there are gods around even if they’re not up to much right now or that they left these things called relics behind… it doesn’t mean that I can’t help people, any more than all of the magic that Sunset and Twilight found in those old books means that I can’t help people.

“Just because I know more than I did yesterday doesn’t mean that I have to give up on my dreams. And I won’t. I’ll become a huntress and save everyone I can… from anyone.”

Ruby was another one whom Sunset feared was too in love with the possibility of her own glorious ending, and so it was interesting in a certain sense of the word that the two who cared least for their own lives had so far demonstrated the least fazed reactions to this – at least once they had had time to process the information laid out in front of them.

At the same time, as glad as she was that this had not plunged Blake or Ruby into the depths of existential despair, Sunset would need someone with an all around healthier mindset to comment before she could breathe easily and worry that it was a result of Blake and Ruby’s… nuanced relationship with the concept of safety and survival. Someone like Jaune, or-

“Well said, both of you,” Ciel said, quietly but firmly. To Blake she added, “You know that I have not always spoken fair to you, nor regarded you with the greatest fondness of anyone on this team, but… that was well said, in words and tone and argument all alike.”

“Does that mean you feel the same way?” Rainbow asked her.

Ciel clasped her hands together behind her back. “There is an argument that could be made classifying this as treason.”

“Do you really think that General Ironwood has acted against the interest of Atlas?” Twilight said.

“No,” Ciel said quickly. “I understand the reasons why this information is kept classified. That is why I said that the argument could be made.”

“The way I see it, it comes down to trust,” Rainbow said. “Sunset may not trust Professor Ozpin, but I trust the General. He gave me a shot when some others wouldn’t have. He brought me in on this when he didn’t have to. He’s taken care of Twi. I trust him, just like I did before, just like I always have. If he says that he’s doing the right thing, and that we’ll be doing the right thing by getting involved in this, then I’m not gonna say he’s wrong.”

Ciel nodded, before fixing her attention on Twilight. “And the fact that you’ll be deceiving your sister-in-law on the council doesn’t trouble you?”

“Yes,” Twilight confessed. “Yes, it does, and I’m sure it will be hard. But it’s like Rainbow says, I trust General Ironwood, and I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I didn’t get involved in this to the best of my ability.”

“Very commendable of you,” Ciel murmured. “For myself, I am reminded of General Colton, who was appointed to assist in the reconstruction of the North after the Great War and came to love it as his own land. It is said that after landing in Solitas for the first time, he never set foot in Vale again after, but dedicated his whole life to restoring the north kingdom to, if not its former glory, then at least to a kind of glory once again. It is said that he worked himself to the bone because, by his own admission, he feared to die with his work unfinished. Twenty years later, it was still undone, and yet, he lay dying, consumed with regret. The former King of Vale, although a frail old man himself and without many years left in him, had come to see the old general upon his dying bed, and it is reported that the king said to the general, ‘all men die with their great work unfinished; do not regret it; rather, rejoice rather that you have left such immense foundations for your successors to build upon.’

“We will not defeat Salem,” Ciel concluded. “We may never be able to imagine such a thing. But so long as we fight well against Cinder Fall and all of this Salem’s followers, then we need not fear leaving the fight unfinished, for we will have left firm foundations behind us for others to build upon. For my own part, a Soleil has always answered the northland when it called, and I do not intend to be one to break that particular family tradition. So long as Atlas requires a soldier, here is Ciel Soleil, present for duty.”

“That’s easier for you to say,” Penny muttered.

“Penny?” Ruby asked anxiously.

Penny didn’t look at her. She didn’t meet anybody’s eyes. She was looking down at the ground, making it impossible to see her expression, but it was nevertheless easy to guess – from the fact that she was looking down at the ground, and clasping her hands together at her… heart, for want of a better word – how she was feeling.

“Penny, I know it probably seems rather fatuous to ask what’s wrong,” Pyrrha said softly. “Nevertheless, I hope that you’ll tell us, in case there’s something… something we can do.”

“General Ironwood told me that I could save the world,” Penny whispered.

Ruby frowned. “He did?”

Penny nodded. “That’s what he said. He told me… he told me that it was the reason why I was created. But it was a lie, wasn’t it? He lied to me, and he didn’t even hiccup while he was doing it.”

“Penny-” Twilight began, but was silenced by a hand on her shoulder from Rainbow Dash, who shook her head briefly.

Ruby frowned. “I…maybe he…I’m sure that…I don’t know, Penny. I don’t know why he’d say that if he knew it wasn’t true. I don’t know why anyone would lie to you like that.”

“It turns out that the General has been lying to all of us,” Rainbow said bluntly. “But for a pretty good reason, just like he has a good reason for everything that he does.”

“I believed him,” Penny said, ignoring Rainbow Dash’s defence. “I didn’t understand how I was supposed to do it, but I believed him. I wanted to believe him. I was built to fight, and I knew that maybe I’d have to spend my whole… my whole life fighting. But I thought that maybe, if I learnt everything that I could and saved the world like General Ironwood said that I was supposed to, then maybe, after that, they’d let me go, and I could do something else other than fight.”

“What would you do?” Pyrrha asked. “If you could be away from all of this and live in a world free from duty or obligations, what would you do?”

“I… I don’t know,” Penny admitted. “But I’d like to have the choice, and maybe find out for myself what I’d like to do, if that makes any sense. But now I’ll never-“

“That’s not true,” Ruby said. “If you don’t want to fight, then you don’t have to, and nothing that Professor Ozpin said changes that any more than it changes the fact that I want to fight and protect the world and the people I care about. If that’s not what you want, then you should be free to do something else, no matter what General Ironwood or anyone in Altas has to say about it. If you want to find out who you really are, then you should, and you shouldn’t worry about anything or anyone else.”

She glared at Rainbow Dash, who held up her hands in front of her as though she was surrendering. “I won’t stop her,” Rainbow assured Ruby. “If Penny wants out, she can take that up with someone higher than me. I can’t let her go, but I won’t make her stay, either.”

Penny did not acknowledge that. She was quiet for a moment, quiet and still, and she wasn’t even making any little robot noises like whirring servos or squeaky joints or anything like that.

“Thank you,” she said. “Ruby, my friend. I am your friend, aren’t I?”

Ruby reached out and took Penny’s hand in her own. “Of course you are, Penny.”

Sunset saw Ruby wince as Penny’s grip upon her hand tightened.

Penny didn’t appear to notice as she smiled down at Ruby. “You say that I should find out who I am, but I think that that is who I am right now. I’m a soldier of Atlas, built to fight… but I’m also your friend, and I’m a friend of Pyrrha and all your teammates and of my teammates as well, but I think… I think that I am your friend most of all, Ruby Rose. And maybe there is more to me than that, or maybe there could be, but for now… for now, I think that’s enough.

“I don’t want to be a true huntress. I don’t have a dream like so many of you do to inspire me to keep fighting. I don’t really know what I want to do with my life or whether I really want to do the thing that I was built to do. But I do know what I don’t want to do, and that’s abandon my friends. My friend. And so, even if we can’t win, so long as you’re still fighting, so long as all of you are still fighting, then so am I, my friend.”

“Penny, I… I don’t know what to say,” Ruby said. “I… are you sure about this? This… this could be dangerous. Everything we do can be dangerous.”

Penny nodded. “I know,” she said. “That’s why I won’t leave.”

“I would say that I will be honoured to fight by your side again,” Pyrrha said, “but in truth, I have no right to say such a thing, for you shame me with your valour.” She sighed. “So many of you shame me with your valour.”

“Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, reaching out to her with one hand.

Pyrrha took a step forward, so that his hand closed upon empty air.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said stiffly, in a brittle voice. “Would you please open the door?”

Sunset half wanted to keep her here while they talked this out, but she had no right to do that, no right to do anything but to click her fingers and let the garage door grind upwards, to admit the sunlight once again.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered, and her boots tapped upon the garage as she walked out and away.

“I’ll go after her,” Jaune said a moment later, following swiftly.

Sunset watched him pursue her for a moment and wished him good luck with it. “Right,” she said, “I suppose I’d better tell someone about Cinder, hadn’t I?”

Jaune trailed after Pyrrha as they headed in a direction that it took him a moment to realise was in the direction of the dining hall. It was closed now, being after breakfast but too early to be open for lunch, and so, the lights were dark within, and the tables hadn’t been set – or re-set – yet. There was no one around, which he guessed was how Pyrrha wanted it.

She stopped in front of the windows in that darkened room, and she looked into the hall for a moment before she turned away from it.

She looked so… downcast. It hit him like a body blow, even worse than that night in Mistral, because this time, he knew exactly what was troubling her, and honestly, it was kind of troubling him too. The grimm had a boss? An unbeatable boss? An unbeatable boss who wasn’t going to stop until she killed everyone.

So much for being the hero. It sounded like the best that even the greatest huntsman could hope for was to stem the tide for a while, and what kind of hero could settle for that?

Looking at Pyrrha, who was more of a hero already than he would be in a lifetime of effort, was all the answer that he needed.

And yet, in spite of his own discomfort about this, Jaune found that, at the moment, it was Pyrrha that he wanted to focus on. He wanted to make her feel better before he started to focus on himself.

“Pyrrha-” he began.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” Pyrrha said. Her voice was small and faint, but nevertheless, it completely silenced his own, just as she completely outmatched him in battle.

Jaune didn’t reply; he just looked at her, waiting.

“I didn’t think it was fair to put this burden on you,” Pyrrha continued, unprompted. “On you or Ruby. You want to be the hero; I didn’t think that you’d want to find out that… that there is no hope. It was Sunset who thought that you deserved to know the truth. Was she right? Was I wrong?”

“I’m glad you told me,” Jaune said.

“Then I was wrong.”

“It’s not about right or wrong,” Jaune said. “It’s about knowing. Sure, I wanted to be the big hero when I first came here, but I made my peace with the fact that that wasn’t me a while ago.”

“Jaune, I want nothing more than to see you reach your dreams.”

“And now, all I want is to stand alongside you, or even behind you if that’s the best way to help you,” Jaune said. “I just... Pyrrha, I want you to make me a promise.”

Pyrrha looked at him, the gold chains dangling from her circlet swayed back and forth a little. “What kind of promise?”

“Don’t send me away,” Jaune said. “Don’t leave me behind because you want me to be safe or because you think it’s too dangerous or because you’re worried that I can’t keep up with you. I know that I’m not a great warrior like you, and I know that I probably never will be, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t help you. So let me help you. You don’t have to carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders alone.”

Pyrrha turned her back on him. She stood, with the wind blowing through her luscious red hair, her hands balled into fists by her sides. Standing there, motionless but for the effect of the wind, she looked almost like a painted statue, like one of the statues of her heroic ancestors that filled the garden of her house in Mistral. Jaune was abruptly reminded of what a different world she came from to any that he was familiar with: an older and a grander world.

For a moment, his heart quailed. What did someone like him have to offer someone like her, a hero and the product of a heroic line and a heroic world? But she had, in some way, chosen him. She had accepted him in spite of the great gulf in everything between them and who was he to question that?

She needed someone to stand beside her, or just a step or two behind; of that, Jaune was absolutely convinced. And, being convinced, he was determined to be that person for her, whatever it took. He might not be worthy, but he had been chosen nevertheless.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “Do you believe in destiny?”

Jaune hesitated for a moment. “I guess I…never really thought about it.”

“A lot of people confuse or conflate destiny with fate,” Pyrrha said. “Something predetermined that you can’t escape, three spinners weaving the threads of your life until, in the end… snip. But I’ve always thought of destiny as something that you choose, a final goal that you work towards your whole life.”

“I can see that,” Jaune said. “It’s… certainly a lot more hopeful.”

Pyrrha looked over her shoulder at him, and she smiled, and in spite of everything, she still looked so lovely. “That’s why I want to help you, Jaune; that’s why I don’t want to see you give up on your destiny, because you can reach it if you work towards it.”

Jaune smiled back at her. “I’d like to think so,” he said, even though he would accept it now if it turned out that was not the case.

Pyrrha looked away again. “I… I’ve always thought that I was destined for something great. I suppose that sounds very arrogant of me, considering that I’ve just said that we choose our destinies.”

“Not really,” Jaune said. “It’s about the usual for this team, right?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we are… what you might call an ambitious group, each in our own way.” Her face fell. “I was born into a line of heroes, from the first Pyrrha who fought beneath the walls of Mistral, and I’ve always felt that my destiny was to do something, to accomplish something, that would make me worthy to stand level with those ancestors of mine. If I was going to have to fight, I wanted to do something more worthwhile than fight in tournaments for entertainment. That’s why I came to Beacon: because I thought that my destiny was to become a huntress and protect the world.”

“'The world'?” Jaune repeated.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “Ambition. I wasn’t thinking of anything small scale. I wanted to protect the whole world; I wanted to become… but now, it seems that something is standing in the way of my destiny.” She bowed her head. “I know that we have to fight, and I will. I know that we can still do so much good, but still…”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “I get it. It’s daunting, knowing what we know now. But I guess that all we can do is-”

“Keep fighting?”

“I was going to say 'make the best of it,' but sure, 'keep fighting' works too,” Jaune said. “Maybe we have reached the end of vanity, like you said…” He ventured a smile. “So it’s a pretty good job that we’ve already found something else to fight for, right? Friendship… love.”

Pyrrha turned to face him, her mouth and eyes alike wide with astonishment. “Jaune, you…”

Jaune smiled, or tried to smile, and nodded.

Pyrrha’s expression settled into a smile likewise, as she reached out and took him by both hands.

“I will never send you away,” she vowed. “So long as you want to stand by me. That is my promise to you, Jaune Arc.”

They stared into one another’s eyes for a moment. And then he kissed her.

It seemed like the thing to do.

Sunset’s tail swished from side to side as she got out her scroll, shielding it with one hand against the glare of the morning sun. She retreated into the shadows cast by a nearby tree, glancing left and right for any signs of eavesdroppers.

She called the headmaster. He responded very quickly considering how busy he was.

“Ah, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “And what can I do for you?”

“It’s more what I can do for you, Professor,” Sunset replied. “I recently got a call from Cinder Fall.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: So, the biggest change to this chapter - and the one that makes it much longer - is that we now see the characters in the know filling in the characters who are not, rather than it being passed over with 'After they had told them everything'... Again, I like this, because we see how the different characters tell it, and what they refuse to say (Sunset).

Objective Recieved (Rewrite)

Objective Received

“Cinder Fall told her this?” Ironwood asked.

“So Miss Shimmer tells me,” Ozpin replied. “She seems to think it is genuine.”

“Does that worry you?” Ironwood asked.

“The connection between Miss Shimmer and Miss Fall is concerning, I admit,” Ozpin replied. “But then, one of the reasons for admitting Miss Shimmer into Beacon was to prevent her from falling in with the wrong crowd. I simply didn’t expect that the wrong crowd would find their way here to Beacon.”

“Oz-”

“I know, James; we must not sink beneath our misfortunes but keep moving forward,” Ozpin said. “I have faith in Miss Shimmer’s friends to…”

“To keep her honest?” Ironwood suggested.

“If you wish,” Ozpin said.

“Do you know if they’ve told anyone else yet?” asked Ironwood. “Not about this call, but about our other secrets?”

“I believe so,” Ozpin replied. “I can see no other reason for them to retreat into the privacy of the garage. You might be interested to know that Miss Belladonna was with them.”

“I am interested, but not surprised,” Ironwood said. “She’s close enough to both teams that she could almost be considered part of either. How do you feel?”

“I’m glad that they didn’t follow my instructions and keep it secret from their teammates.”

“You’re glad that someone didn’t keep secrets? Are you feeling alright, Oz?”

Ozpin chuckled. “You may jest, James, and heavens know that we need a little levity in situations like these, but even I understand there must be limits on secrecy. No one can bear such terrible burdens as we are cursed with alone. Not me. Not you. Not them. I would never expect Miss Nikos or Miss Shimmer to bear the weight of this without the support of those closest to them.”

Ironwood reflected briefly that he had never told his teammates, but then, by the time he found out the truth, they had ceased to be those closest to him, and those closest had known. “And yet that’s exactly what you asked them to do,” Ironwood reminded him. “You could have done without the test of character and simply given them permission.”

“But then what would I have discovered about them, James?” Ozpin asked, a slight smile pricking at the corners of his mouth.

It occurred to Ironwood that this sort of behaviour was part of the reason some people felt Oz couldn’t be trusted; he was not, however, so cruel nor so insubordinate as to say so. “Well, it seems that we’ll need to get them back together for another meeting. But hold off on that for a minute, I want to have another crack at Torchwick, find out if he knows anything. Thanks for the intel, Oz; maybe a mention of Mountain Glenn will shake something loose.”

“You’re always welcome, James; let me know if anything does, as you say, shake loose,” Ozpin said. He paused. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with Qrow.”

“Anything?”

“No,” Ozpin replied mournfully. “I would send him to Mountain Glenn if I knew where he was or that he would return in time to make the journey promptly. As things stand… we may, as you say, have to assemble the children once again. It seems their baptism of fire may come sooner than I had hoped.”

“This is what we brought them in for, Oz,” Ironwood told him. In each generation, Ozpin gave his trust only to a select few; between deaths, desertions, justified retirements, and those whose profiles or positions didn’t allow them to leave their posts to go chasing shadows, that left Qrow Branwen as their only active field agent. Part of the reason to bring in Teams RSPT and SAPR was because, with Salem taking a more aggressive stance, they badly needed to replenish their numbers for potential field work. “And they’re good for this. There’s no one better that I could name.” He didn’t quite say that he would bet on Rainbow Dash over Qrow Branwen any day, but he allowed the implication to hang there between them.

“One of these days, James, you’ll have to tell me how she managed to impress you quite this much,” Ozpin said.

“Because I don’t want to end up like my father!” Ironwood was silent for a moment. “You know, in Low Town under Atlas, people aren’t always as… rational as they are amongst the clouds. All kinds of superstitions run riot. Including one that says that people with hair touched by the aurora are blessed by fate.”

“Rainbow hair?” Ozpin asked.

“Exactly,” Ironwood confirmed. “People told my father that he was meant for something amazing his whole life, so he just sat back and waited for destiny to drop it on his plate. And what’s it gotten him? A small business? And the worst part is, people still think he’s awesome because that’s what passes for success down there! People have been telling me that I can do something great my whole life, just like they told him. Unlike my father, I’d like to prove them right.” “But Dash wasn’t willing to just sit and wait; she wanted to earn all those accolades, even if retroactively. It impressed me, enough to give her a shot. I haven’t regretted it yet.”

“I see,” Ozpin murmured. “In any event, please keep me informed if you obtain any information from Mister Torchwick.”

“I will,” Ironwood promised. “Have you reported to the Council yet?”

Ozpin groaned. “One thing at a time, James; that is not a conversation I relish. We shall speak soon?”

“Of course.”

“Then I wish you good luck.”

“Thank you, Oz; until later.” Ironwood folded up his scroll and placed it neatly on his desk. He got up from his chair and went to the window of his office aboard the Valiant. From here, he could see out across Vale and see elements of his fleet as they hovered above the city they were prepared to defend.

So many people. So many soldiers aboard his ships, but dwarfed in number by the teeming multitudes of the city below them. Thousands of people, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people living their lives in blissful ignorance of the existence of Salem or the relics or the maidens or any of the other secrets he was privy to,

Sometimes, he wondered if he would have preferred to be ignorant himself.

No; no, he didn’t really mean that. It was better that he knew the truth, better that he knew what he was really up against, better that he could make his decisions with a clear head and all the facts at his disposal.

But there were times when he wished that he hadn’t been introduced into this shadow world; he didn’t have the mind for all the twists and turns required.

But that didn’t stop me from pulling Rainbow and Twilight in after me. They’ve probably already pulled in Ciel and Penny too.

I did what I had to do. Atlas – and the world – needs to be protected, and they’re the best we have.

There’s no one that I trust more.

Ironwood turned away from the window. Thinking like that wasn’t going to help him make the decisions that would keep all those people out there in Vale safe from harm.

Mountain Glenn. He knew a little about the place: a failed expansion project and a costly failure in terms of loss of life. It had killed large scale expansion efforts by Vale ever since.

And it was the place where Cinder Fall was, or would be, or it was the place she wanted them to think that she would be. Whether there was anything else there, why she wanted them to come there, these were the questions he needed – or at the very least would like – the answers to before he decided to commit his forces.

Or his kids.

And there was someone who could give him those answers.

Ironwood left his office, indicating with a gesture of his hand that his marine guard should remain at his post on the door before he, Ironwood, strode down the corridors of the flagship in the direction of the brig. He returned the salutes of the officers and men he passed along the way, but otherwise said nothing as he walked so that he was accompanied only by the thudding of his own feet against the metal of the deck. He didn’t even summon Winter to his side as he made his way down the metallic corridors of the Atlesian warship until he arrived at the sepulchral brig, where cells like cathedral alcoves lined the walls on either side of the central walkway.

Ironwood made his way unerringly to the cell currently housing Roman Torchwick. He opened the door to find their guest sitting awkwardly against the wall, with an expression that suggested he was trying and failing to find some way of lounging in a cell that wasn’t built to allow for anything like it.

“Comfortable?” Ironwood asked, unable to keep a trace of snide pleasure out of his voice.

“Not really,” Torchwick growled as he sat up. He tried to smirk, and when he spoke again, he had put a little of his old grease back into his voice, but it fell a little flat considering that Ironwood had clearly caught him at a bad time. “So, General, what can I do for you? You’re not here to let me out, are you?”

“What do you know about Mountain Glenn?” Ironwood asked.

Torchwick had an admirable poker face. “Wasn’t that the new city that got overrun back when I was a boy? Real sad story, all those poor folks just abandoned by the government to die like that. Of course, that’s what government does, isn’t it? One way or another, it leaves everyone to die.”

“I’m not here to debate the philosophy of anarchism with you, Torchwick; what do you know?”

“Only what everyone knows,” Torchwick said.

“So Cinder Fall is going to Mountain Glenn to do what? Lead a historical survey?” Ironwood demanded. “Sightsee among the ruins?”

Torchwick was silent for a moment. Then he chuckled. “So, you know about Cinder, huh? I gotta give you credit, General, I didn’t think you were smart enough to figure that out. Of course, you just told me that you haven’t actually caught her yet, but the fact that you know you oughtta be trying to catch her… that’s not so bad.” He leaned forward. “Hey, can I ask you something now?”

“I don’t guarantee an answer.”

Torchwick nodded. “By any chance did those kids have anything to do with it?”

General Ironwood did not have so good a poker face as Torchwick, because although he didn’t reply, that didn’t stop the criminal from sniggering.

“Don’t you feel just a little ashamed of yourself, relying on a bunch of teenagers to do everything?”

“I’m proud of what my people accomplish, no matter how young they are.”

“Well, that’s one way to stave off feelings of inadequacy, I guess,” Torchwick said. He put his shackled hands behind his head. “They really are something, aren’t they?”

“Cinder?”

“No, those kids,” Torchwick said. “I mean, sure, Cinder’s something else as well, but those kids… man, if I’d been that good when I was their age, I’d be running this whole town by now.”

He fell silent. Ironwood allowed it and didn’t push him. Let him work it through for himself. Roman Torchwick was a lot of things, most of them bad, but if his record was even halfway accurate, then he was also a survivor. Let him think about what it meant that his boss was exposed and on the run, let him consider the shifting balance of forces at play, let him work out on his own that his interests might be better served by sharing his knowledge with the authorities.

So far, Torchwick had kept his mouth resolutely shut beyond claiming that he was the mastermind behind the operations of the White Fang. If Ironwood pressed him, then he might clam up even tighter, even now. But if Ironwood kept quiet and let him come around to the idea, then maybe-

“Say, General,” Torchwick said, “is that deal you mentioned a while back still on the table?”

Ironwood believed that he successfully managed to conceal his satisfaction. “Even though you don’t have as much to offer as you did, I’ll be generous and say yes.”

“Oh, I still got lots to say, believe me,” Torchwick said. “I also got a few conditions of my own.”

Ironwood frowned. “You think I’m going to let you completely dictate the terms of-”

“I want a transfer to a civilian prison,” Torchwick said. “For me and Neo.”

“Why?” Ironwood demanded.

“Because there’s more room in the cells down there than there is up here,” Torchwick said. “Because I enjoy sparring with the prison wardens, and your guards don’t talk to me-”

“They’re ordered not to talk to you.”

“Good for them, but it doesn’t make it any less boring for me stuck in here with nobody,” Torchwick replied.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be transferred to a prison you can escape from?”

“Now why would I want to escape?” Torchwick asked. “I love prison; it’s like being on vacation.” He paused for a moment. “The last time I got sent down, they put me in charge of the swimming pool.”

Ironwood’s eyebrows rose. “The prison had a swimming pool?”

“No,” Torchwick said. “It must have been an administrative error. Funny, huh?”

“Hmm,” Ironwood growled. He didn’t know how much of what Torchwick was saying was true and how much was a load of bull, but the truth was that Ironwood had very little grounds to hold him aboard the Valiant, and the Valish Department of the Interior had been requesting that he be handed into their custody ever since he’d been captured. Giving him up might buy some much needed goodwill with the First Councillor, and if he escaped… once he gave up all the information he had, was he likely to want to escape? Possibly not, if he feared what his erstwhile allies might do to an informant. “Anything else?”

“I want a nice dinner for Neo,” Torchwick said. “She likes pizza and wings from Pascale’s – I don’t mind not having to go in there; those robots always creep me out – with chocolate brownies and ice cream for dessert. And no store brand crap either; it’s gotta be… FarmFresh or nothing.”

“Fine,” Ironwood huffed. “Anything else? Would you like some champagne while you’re at it? Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Don’t worry, General, I know how to keep my requests realistic,” Torchwick insisted, in the teeth of the evidence. “Although I do have one last condition.”

“What?”

Torchwick smiled. “I will only talk to Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer.”

“You don’t have to do this, Ruby,” Sunset said.

Ruby smiled nervously. “Well, if I didn’t, you’d have to talk to him by yourself, wouldn’t you?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You think I couldn’t manage that?”

“I think we kind of need him alive so he can tell us stuff,” Ruby said.

Sunset stared down at her for a moment. Then her face cracked into a smile. “Well, I guess you’re not wrong about that.”

“I don’t know for sure why he wants to speak to us,” Ruby said, “but I think he’ll try and push our buttons, and you-”

“Have a bit of a temper sometimes, yeah,” Sunset admitted. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re going to be in there with me.”

Ruby’s smile widened a little, and became a little less nervous, too. “I’m glad you’re going to be there too,” she murmured, and not only because Sunset was never totally disarmed so long as she had her magic.

Ruby, on the other hand, was going to walk in there unarmed and talk to Roman Torchwick. What Yang would say about that… well, there was a reason Ruby hadn’t told her about it yet. Along with all the other things that Ruby hadn’t told her sister about, a list that seemed to be getting longer by the hour.

Ruby huffed mentally. She loved her team, all of them, but there were times when she wished that she and Yang could have been on the same team together, and then they could have shared all of this stuff that she was finding out. That way, Ruby could have told her everything and not have to lie or hide or worry about what Dad would have to say.

Although it seemed like Dad might have been keeping some secrets of his own.

But that was something that she’d have to deal with later, however she decided to actually deal with it. For now, she had to focus on Torchwick. Roman Torchwick, on the other side of the door, waiting for her.

She hadn’t lied to Sunset. She did have to do this. He knew things that they needed to know, and what kind of huntress would ignore that just because she was a little nervous about a prisoner?

They – Team SAPR, Blake, Team RSPT, Professor Ozpin, and General Ironwood – were all waiting outside of the interrogation room (or at least it was an interrogation room) on board the Atlesian flagship, the Valiant. Professor Ozpin seemed to sense some of her nerves, because he smiled genially, with a look on his face that Ruby thought her grandpa might have worn if she’d had one, and said, “Don’t overthink things, Ruby. Just ask the obvious questions that come to mind, and everything will work out.”

Ruby looked at him. It was hard to imagine that this was the man who was running a secret organisation across the length and breadth of Remnant to fight evil. It was even harder to imagine that he’d worked with her mom to do the same thing. It was really hard to imagine that he’d once taught her mom magic. And yet, at least two of those things were true – because her teammates wouldn’t lie to her, and Mom would have no reason to lie to her own diary – and the third made sense.

But as he looked at her, the main thing going through Ruby’s mind was a sceptical disbelief at the idea that Sunset didn’t trust the headmaster. What was he doing wrong? He was defending the world from anyone who dared to threaten it, which was exactly what a huntsman was supposed to do. He might have been keeping secrets, but he had his reasons, she was sure.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said.

“And Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin went on, “please try and remain calm. If you lose control, you’ll only be giving Mister Torchwick what he wants.”

Sunset sighed. “I’ll try my best, Professor.”

“Wear these, both of you,” General Ironwood said, handing her a small earpiece of transparent plastic. “It will allow us to offer you directions if you need them.”

“Thanks, sir,” Ruby said as she put the device in her ear. Sunset did likewise.

General Ironwood nodded. “I should be thanking you, both of you. You’re doing good work here today.”

“You’re gonna do great in there,” Jaune said encouragingly.

Ruby forced her smile a little wider. “I’ll try my best,” she said, offering him a thumbs-up.

“We’ll be in the next room, watching everything,” Pyrrha said. “If there’s any trouble, we’ll be there.”

“I know,” Ruby said. She took a deep breath. “I think… I think I’m ready now. Sunset?”

Sunset shrugged. “I’m ready when you are,” she said, and Ruby wished that she could be as casual about this as Sunset seemed to be.

“Give us a minute to get in position,” General Ironwood said. “I’ll contact you when we’re ready.”

“Okay,” Ruby said. They all left her after that. Sunset, like Ruby, looked after the others as they left them behind and went into the next room to the right.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Sunset murmured.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. She looked around. “This is a nice ship, isn’t it? Is it your first time here?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I came here to talk to General Ironwood about…” She laughed. “You know, I can’t actually remember what it was about, or when it was.” She shrugged. “It was probably the usual sort of thing.”

“I came here with Penny and the others,” Ruby said. “It’s nice, isn’t it?

“If you like that sort of thing,” Sunset muttered. “I find it rather… sterile.”

“But it’s a mechanical marvel!” Ruby exclaimed. “The skill and knowledge and hard work required just to get this into the air, and then you have to think about all the weapon systems and the comms and the fact that people can live here, on their own, for months if they have to! Did you know that? This… stuff like this is a testament to what people can accomplish.”

Sunset snorted, although the fond smile she wore took any sting out of it. “You should have been an engineer, not a huntress.”

Ruby shook her head. “Nah. Gears and machines are cool, but saving people is way cooler.”

Sunset grinned. “I guess there’s nothing that competes with that hero feeling, huh?”

Ruby said, “Sunset, about Professor-”

“Ruby,” the voice of Professor Ozpin himself interrupted her before she could say anything else. “We’re ready here. It’s time.”

“Right,” Ruby said. To Sunset, she explained, “They’re ready for us.”

“Okay,” Sunset said. She held out one arm – she was still wearing Pyrrha’s spare gloves – in a gesture of invitation towards the door. “After you.”

Ruby faced the door. The door behind which waited her enemy. The door that was keeping her from Roman Torchwick.

You’ve sent this guy running twice and caught him the time after that; what’s the big deal?

I had Crescent Rose with me all those times. The last time, I had two whole teams with me.

But I only had Sunset the first time, and she’s here with me again now.

Ruby glanced at her teammate, her partner, who closed in behind her. Sunset’s hands, Ruby noticed, were clenched into fists.

I guess she’s not as casual about this as she’d like me to think.

She took a step towards the door, which automatically – or perhaps someone in the other room had opened it for her; that was a little more secure – slid open, revealing Roman Torchwick sitting with his feet on the metal table in the centre of the room. The only other furniture was the chair he was sitting on and two chairs opposite for Ruby and Sunset. Although his hands were shackled, he had them tucked behind his head, and he sounded like he was whistling.

He stopped doing it as Ruby walked in, and started beaming at her instead. “Well, if it isn’t Little Red! Nice to see you again, kid.” He glanced at Sunset, winking at her with his one visible eye. “And Baconhair, you came too. I’m touched, I really am.”

Sunset rolled her eyes – probably at being called ‘baconhair’ – and reversed her chair so that the back was facing the table, then squatted down on it resting her arms on said back. Ruby sat down more normally.

“What…?” Ruby began. Her mouth felt dry, and her tongue felt bigger than normal. Just ask the obvious questions. Right. “What do you know about Mountain Glenn?”

Torchwick chuckled. “Come on, Red, that’s not how this works. Where are your manners? You haven’t even said hello to me yet.”

“Stop calling me that; my name is Ruby!” Ruby snapped. “And you… you can call me Miss Rose. Stop talking to me like we’re friends.”

Torchwick took his feet off the table and leaned forward, bringing his manacled hands from over his head as he placed them on the table. Sunset tensed, but Torchwick ignored her. He was wholly focussed on Ruby. “Do you want to know what I know, Miss Rose?” he asked, his tone becoming particularly mocking when he got to her name.

Ruby nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Then don’t yell at me and don’t act all prissy over my manners like some stuck-up debutante,” Torchwick said. “Now say hello, and ask me how I’ve been doing.”

The palms of Sunset’s hands hit the table with a hard thud, as she started to get to her feet, jaw clenched with anger.

“Sunset,” Ruby murmured.

Torchwick was grinning like he’d just opened his birthday present.

Sunset glowered at him. Torchwick continued to smile back, completely unfazed. Sunset’s ears were pressed down into her hair, but nevertheless, she forced herself to sit down again. “Hello, Torchwick,” she growled out through gritted teeth. “How have you been since we saw each other last?”

“Oh, I’ve been just great since you meddling kids handed me over to this charming crowd,” Torchwick said. “My cell is cramped, the food is appalling, and I get woken up in the middle of the night, every night, by shift change as dozens of military boots go pounding past my cell.”

“My heart bleeds for your entirely self-inflicted misfortunes,” Sunset said, recovering her temper sufficiently to be as dry as sand.

Roman ignored her, or at least, he ignored her tone. “Neo’s doing great too, by the way. A kid her age should be playing outside, not-”

“Robbing dust stores?” Sunset suggested.

“Stuck in a cell on a warship,” Torchwick finished.

“You’re a criminal,” Ruby reminded him. “You steal, and you hurt people, and you kill them too. You’re working with the White Fang! Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

“A little sympathy wouldn’t break your auras,” Torchwick said. “Like my old man used to say, you can get a lot further with a gun and a kind word than you can with just a gun.”

“You can’t let him take control of this interview,” General Ironwood said, his voice emerging out of the device in Ruby’s ear. “You need to get this back on track.”

Ruby scowled. “What do you know, Torchwick?”

“All my friends call me Roman.”

“You have friends?” Sunset asked.

“Oh, you wound me, kid; I’m a really popular guy in some circles.”

“Good for you,” Sunset muttered. “But however many friends you have, we’re not among them, so it will be Torchwick from us and Miss Shimmer and Miss Rose to you.”

“Are you going to spank me if I get out of line, Miss Shimmer?” Torchwick asked.

“What do you know?” Ruby repeated, more fiercely and more urgently this time.

Torchwick tapped on the table with his fingers. “I hear you sent Cinder running. And I thought that was pretty interesting. I mean, I already knew that you kids were good – you took me down, after all – but I had no idea that you were that good. You see, I’ve been keeping quiet this whole time about everything because I thought that Cinder was the strongest, scariest act in town, but now… well, no offence, Red, but you still don’t scare me anywhere near as much as she does, but as for strength… if you and the crazy gang can make her turn tail and run, if you kids can unravel her plans… maybe I’ve had my calculations all wrong.”

“And is that all you care about?” Ruby demanded. “Who’s the strongest? Which side is safer to back? What about right and wrong? What about all the people that you’ve put in danger? How many people have you killed?”

“Not as many as you might think,” Torchwick said, his voice suddenly losing a lot of its playful tone. “I’m a lot of things, kid – I’m a thief, a racketeer, a con man, a liar – but I’m not a murderer. I only kill morons who get in my way. I’m not my boss or the trio she pals around with.”

“I caught you and Adam on your way to kill a man in his own home!” Sunset snapped.

“He was a snitch!” Torchwick replied. “Like I said, I only kill morons.”

“Are you going to claim that talking to us doesn’t make you a snitch?” Sunset asked.

“Talking to you might make me a survivor,” Torchwick declared. “Neo and I have both survived because that’s what we do: lie, cheat, steal, play the angles, and yes, I kill when I’ve got no other choice. So you can take your judgement and shove it; you’ve got no idea what it’s like to be me, to live in my world. I bet your mommies and daddies have taken care of you your whole life.”

“My mom’s dead,” Ruby snapped. “She died helping people, protecting Remnant. That’s what it means to do the right thing, to think of other people before yourself.”

Torchwick stared at her for a moment. “You got a lot of heart, Red, I’ll give you that. And a lot of spirit. You remind me of somebody I used to know.” He leaned back in his chair. “They had a lot of spirit too, and it got them hurt, badly. Because the real world doesn’t care about spirit. Not one damn bit. You keep going like this, you’ll find that out for yourself.”

“No,” Sunset snapped, “she won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?” Torchwick asked.

“Because she’s got me,” Sunset declared. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

Torchwick smirked at her. “So, what do you want to know?”

“What’s Cinder planning?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on!” Sunset yelled. “Did you really get us up here just to waste our time?”

“Well, it got me out of my cell,” Torchwick said.

Sunset got to her feet. “The only leash on my impatience with you has been the fact that we needed you in a position where you could form sensible words,” she declared, balling her hands into fists. “Apparently, that condition doesn’t apply any more so say goodbye to your teeth.” She began to walk around the table, her boots stomping heavily upon the floor.

Torchwick raised his hands. “Okay, okay, I was only kidding. Calm down, Bacon-”

Sunset growled wordlessly, as she raised a fist at him.

Torchwick cleared his throat. “I mean, uh, calm down Miss Shimmer. I’ll be a good boy from now on, I promise.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, and her tail flickered back and forth as she leaned against the wall. “Honesty!” she snapped. “What do you know?”

“I really don’t know what the endgame plan is, not all of it,” Torchwick insisted. “Cinder didn’t tell me everything. I don’t think that she’s told anybody the whole plan.”

“How did you get involved with her?” Sunset demanded.

“She came to me,” Torchwick said. “She needed a thief, someone who knew their way around the underworld.”

“To steal dust,” Ruby said.

Torchwick nodded. “That was my job. Steal dust, source guns, stash both in places where they wouldn’t be found until it could be shipped out. Once we’d emptied out all the soft targets in Vale, Cinder moved me to hitting trains coming through the Forever Fall. You kids know how that went.”

“And you were moving the dust and the weapons to Mountain Glenn?” Sunset asked.

“Cinder and Adam are raising an army.”

“For what?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know,” Torchwick said for the third time. “I just know that if you go to Mountain Glenn, you’ll find a lot of dust, a lot of Atlesian mechs, and a whole lot of White Fang goons with guns and attitude.”

Sunset sighed. “Rainbow Dash isn’t here, as you can see, so I’ll channel her for a second and point out that even if the White Fang have an army, there’s still no way that they can overrun Vale; the Atlesian forces…” She trailed off.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked. “What…? Cinder.” That’s what she was doing in the tower that night.

“Scanning the network last night, I found a virus implanted in the servers,” Twilight said through her earpiece. “If I hadn’t, then the enemy could have used it to disable our weapons systems, take control of our androids, render our whole force helpless.”

“Judging by the look on your face, I take it you’ve conducted a virus scan recently,” Torchwick said. “Smart kids. You just might survive this after all.”

Nevertheless, that still left Cinder in the ruins of Mountain Glenn with a large force of White Fang fighters and powerful weapons… and the grimm, which Salem could control. “Can you show us where in Mountain Glenn the base is?”

“No,” Torchwick said. “I’m not much good at reading maps, but I’m sure you kids are lucky enough that you’ll stumble across it by yourselves once you get out there.”

“We’re not lucky,” Sunset said. “We’re good.”

“Well, then you’ll definitely find that base, won’t you?” Torchwick replied.

“Have you been there?” Ruby asked. “Could you show us where it is?”

“Ruby!” Sunset hissed.

“That’s not a good idea,” General Ironwood said into Ruby’s ear. “He could lead you into a trap.”

Torchwick laughed. “Why the desperation? You’ve already got Cinder on the back foot. Let me ask you something, if you haven’t caught Cinder yet, then how did you find out about Mountain Glenn?”

Ruby glanced at Sunset, who hesitated for a moment before she said, “Cinder dropped the name.”

“So she wants you there, and you came here to do some research on what you might find?” Torchwick responded. “Well, sorry, kids, but if you think that I’m going to risk walking into a trap with you, then you are very much mistaken. Do you realise how hard it is to get bloodstains out of a white jacket? It might be even harder when it’s your own blood.”

“Fine, we’ll find it ourselves,” Sunset snapped. “Any suggestions on where we should start?”

Torchwick shrugged. “Check the basement,” he told them.

"I think we're done here," General Ironwood said through Ruby's earpiece. "Come out, both of you; join us in the next room."

Ruby got to her feet, while Sunset peeled herself off the wall and fell in behind her as they left, without saying goodbye.

"Nice to see you, Little Red," Torchwick called as they stepped out of the room. "And you too, little po-" His words were cut off as the door slammed shut behind them.

"I hate that guy," Sunset growled. Her voice dropped a little. "I'd consider using my semblance to find out what he actually knows… only I really don't want to know what that guy's soul feels like."

"You think he wasn't telling us everything?"

"You don't think he wasn't telling us everything?" Sunset asked incredulously. “I’d bet Soteria that he knows more about Cinder’s plan than he’s telling us. I think he’s hedging his bets in case she turns the tables on us.”

"Maybe," Ruby admitted. "I don’t know. I… I don't know. We should head into the other room; they’ll all be waiting for us."

The room next door was big enough to accommodate everybody without being too cramped like the garage had been. The wall on the right as they came in was taken up completely by a monitor showing the cell: Torchwick was relaxing once again as though he hadn’t a care in the whole world.

“So, uh, what did you guys think?” Ruby asked tentatively as she walked in.

“You did great, Ruby,” Jaune said. “Sunset, you were… yourself.”

Sunset smirked and preened and petted her hair with one hand, “Why thank you, Jaune, I always try to be defiantly myself.”

“He told you quite a lot,” Penny said.

“But if it didn’t feel like a trap before, it certainly does now,” Twilight muttered.

“They’ll regret trying to snare us once our cruisers show up overhead,” Rainbow said.

“Don’t be so quick to rush to action, Miss Dash,” Professor Ozpin said. “Regardless of our opinions of Mister Torchwick’s trustworthiness, we must bear in mind that events transpiring now are but moves in a far larger game, part of a plan the whole of which is far from certain. We must not be over-bold in our response.”

Rainbow scowled. “So we do nothing?”

“Rainbow Dash,” General Ironwood said, his voice holding a warning, though Ruby wasn’t quite sure what it was a warning of, “I’d like nothing better than to rain down fire upon our enemies from above until not a trace of them remained, but if this is a trap, then the purpose could be to do exactly as you’ve suggested: to lure our forces out of Vale and leave the city defenceless before an attack.” He scowled at the image of Torchwick on the wall-sized monitor. “We need more information before we commit our main force.”

Comprehension – at least that’s what Ruby thought it was – dawned on Rainbow’s face. “Reconnaissance party, sir?”

“You’ve fought the White Fang in the past; you’re familiar with Torchwick,” General Ironwood said. He glanced at Blake. “Some of you are personally familiar with the enemy leadership.” His eyes swept across the members of Team SAPR. “And you’ve proven that you have the skills to survive until backup arrives. I know that the situation isn’t ideal, but we can’t ignore this possible threat, and we can’t commit our main force without more information.”

“So it seems that we have little choice but to play this little drama out to its conclusion,” Ozpin said, although he didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it. “You must all understand that this task will likely be difficult – and certainly dangerous – but all of you…” He smiled, and made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “Yes, I believe that all of you now understand what is at stake here. Please understand that I, that we, would not ask this of you unless we had every confidence that you could succeed.”

“That being said,” General Ironwood said, “I won’t order you on this assignment. You’re only students, and I don’t have that right. This mission is volunteer only. There is no shame in stepping back from this.”

Rainbow glanced at Ciel. “I’m not stepping back from anything, sir.”

Ciel stood to attention. “Ciel Soleil reporting for duty, sir.”

“I’m in, General, Professor,” Blake murmured.

“And so am I!” Penny declared. “Even if I can’t do everything that you said I could, I can still do this. I can still help people, right, Ruby?”

Ruby grinned. “Right, Penny.”

Twilight hesitated. She glanced down at the ground. “Blake… take care of them, won’t you?”

“Twi?” Rainbow asked.

“With Blake making up the fourth member of the team, you don’t need me to slow you down,” Twilight said. “In a place like Mountain Glenn, I’d only get in the way. This way, you can fight without having to worry about me.” She smiled. “But you’d better come back, okay?”

Rainbow grinned. “Oh, I’ll be back. We’ll all be back; count on it!”

Sunset turned her back on the general and the professor, and looked instead to her SAPR teammates. “We’re all in on this, right?” she grinned. “Or does anyone really want to let the Rosepetals have all the fun?”

Pyrrha nodded resolutely. Jaune said, “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Sunset nodded. “Glad to hear it.” She looked at Ruby. “I don’t even need to ask, do I?”

“Nope,” Ruby said with a gleaming grin.

Sunset grinned back, before she looked over her shoulder at Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood. “Team Sapphire is ready to go.”

Professor Ozpin looked at them with pride, but also with a kind of sadness that Ruby sensed radiating off of him, even if she couldn’t explain why he should be sad at a time like this. This was awesome! Everyone was shaking off the shock of the news that Sunset and Pyrrha had brought down from the tower and coming together to kick butt and save Vale from evil. There wasn’t anything remotely sad about it.

Yet, all the same, Professor Ozpin seemed sad. He was hiding it, but Ruby could tell; he was sad the way that Dad often seemed sad; she could sense it lurking behind his eyes and peeking out around the edges.

“You are to be commended for your courage and resolve,” he said. “Many fully trained and qualified huntsmen would be envious of both, or ought to be. So brave, so dauntless, and yet, so young. Ah, to be so young again and half so full of fire.” He smiled and shook his head. “I wish you the very best of luck and every success upon your mission.”

“Dash, I want sight of your first draft plan in ninety minutes. The rest of you: pack your things, get some rest, prepare yourselves,” General Ironwood said. “You leave tomorrow.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The two big changes here - besides the title - are that Torchwick isn't going to Mountain Glenn (thus sparing the need to have him recaptured off-screen later) and neither is Twilight, because she doesn't belong there.

Plan of Attack (New)

Plan of Attack

“You know,” Sunset said, “when General Ironwood told you to prepare a plan for him, I don’t think that he meant for you to get Twilight to do all the typing.”

“Twilight can type faster than I can,” Rainbow said defensively.

“So?” Sunset asked.

“I don’t mind, really,” Twilight said quickly. “If this is all that I can do to help right now, then that’s fine.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured. “If you insist, I suppose.”

They had gathered in the library upon their return from the Valiant and clustered slightly awkwardly around the terminal at which Twilight sat, poised to set down their deliberations in a manner suitable for General Ironwood’s consideration.

“You know,” Sunset observed, folding her arms. “Here at Beacon, we’re not required to submit preliminary mission plans because we’re trusted to be grown ups.”

Rainbow snorted. “In Atlas, we have to submit our plans because we’re expected to be professionals.”

“Says the team leader who needs a secretary.”

“Is this really the time for this?” Twilight demanded, glaring at Sunset over the top of her spectacles.

“I would suggest not,” Ciel added.

“Why not? We can’t be serious all the time,” Sunset responded. “Although I admit that now might be a good time.” She leaned upon the table, resting her head on her elbow. “Okay then, let’s do this.”

“Are we sure that this is the right place?” Pyrrha asked anxiously. “I mean, we are rather exposed.”

“It’s a legitimate mission; we weren’t told to keep our going to Mountain Glenn a secret,” Sunset countered. “So long as we don’t mention… that other stuff where anyone can hear us, then we’ll be fine.”

“I have a question,” Penny said, raising her hand. “What did Torchwick mean when he told Ruby and Sunset to look in the basement?”

“Mountain Glenn is – was – kind of two cities,” Ruby explained. “They built a regular city above ground, but at the same time, they built… almost a mirror city underneath the earth, connected to Vale via a subway. I guess that’s what Torchwick meant: that the White Fang are hiding in the underground city.”

“When you say 'underground city,'” Rainbow said. “You’re not talking about just a few subway stations.”

“No, I’m talking about…” Ruby hesitated. “I’ve never seen it myself, but I’ve heard it was a complete city, with homes and movie theatres and nightclubs and everything. Everything that a city needs. Except sunlight.”

“You really know your stuff when it comes to Mountain Glenn, don’t you?” Sunset asked.

Ruby’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Well, I… I guess, in a way, it… it kind of inspired me, almost as much as the stories that Yang used to tell me, almost as much as something like The Song of Olivia. Those stories showed what good huntsmen could do, but the story of Mountain Glenn is another side of that: it shows why we need huntsmen, because of what happens when there aren’t enough of us. Enough of them. You guys know what I mean, right?”

Could any number of additional huntsmen have saved Mountain Glenn, or would it have just been more bodies for the tally of the lost? Sunset couldn’t help but wonder.

“What an extraordinary idea,” Pyrrha murmured. “A whole city underground? It sounds almost too futuristic to be real.”

“I know they built the subway because it was a safer way to travel between Mountain Glenn and Vale than by road,” Ruby said. “Maybe, since they were doing that, they thought: why not dig out everything else?”

“We’ve had a flying city for a while,” Rainbow pointed out. “Why not an underground city?”

“At least in a flying city, you can still see the sun and the sky, right?” Jaune asked. “I’m not sure that I’d want to live in an underground city with only rock over my head. I’d feel like a mole or something.”

“It is quite possible that the underground areas were reserved for the poorer citizens,” Ciel suggested. “Those who could not afford to live aboveground. It is equally possible that, if Mountain Glenn had survived, the upper and lower parts of the city would have developed a rather acrimonious relationship, similar to that presently enjoyed by Atlas and Mantle.”

“That makes a depressing amount of sense,” Sunset muttered. “But to return to the topic, Ruby’s probably right: Torchwick’s last hint was that we should look in the under-city, not above ground. Twilight, can you bring up any maps of the lower city?”

“Now who’s making me do things?” Twilight asked sarcastically.

“You’re at the computer already,” Sunset pointed out. “I’ll take over if you want me to.”

“No, no, I can do it,” Twilight said, her fingers flying across the holographic keyboard. There was some shuffling around by the other students as they all sought to get a view of the screen as Twilight brought up a series of maps and schematics showing the layout of Mountain Glenn, particularly its underground regions.

“You weren’t kidding, Ruby,” Jaune murmured. “That really is a whole city.”

As far as Sunset could tell, the maps made Mountain Glenn out to be almost as big as Vale itself, or at least, they had planned for it to be almost as big. Possibly, it hadn’t filled up yet by the time it fell, but they’d certainly been digging outwards so that it could fill up when the need arose.

“Were there really that many people who wanted to live underground?” Penny asked.

“I think the city was designed so that, if they couldn’t hold the grimm off aboveground, everyone could retreat into the underground city, so it was made bigger than the surface city so that there was room for everyone,” Ruby said.

“Clearly, this plan failed,” Ciel observed.

Ruby nodded. “When they were tunnelling… they accidentally let underground grimm into the city.”

“So this isn’t just an underground city that doesn’t see any sunlight; it’s also a tomb,” Rainbow muttered. “This mission gets better and better.”

“I thought you’d have been used to lightless cities,” Sunset observed.

“Why do you think I never looked back?” Rainbow demanded. She sighed. “What about this subway? Can we use that to get into the underground?”

Ruby shook her head. “They sealed it off to contain the grimm.”

Rainbow winced. “So we’ll have to fly in, land on the outskirts of the city so that they don’t see us coming-”

“Cinder invited us,” Pyrrha reminded them all. “She already knows that we’re coming.”

“No, she wants us to come, but she doesn’t know when we’ll be there or even if,” Rainbow replied. “I don’t want her to know that we’ve walked into her trap until we’ve started wrecking that trap.”

“Do you want me to start taking this down?” Twilight asked.

“Not yet, let’s keep looking at the maps first,” Rainbow told her. “So, we fly in, land on the outskirts of the upper city, and then get underground…”

“Using the metro stations,” Sunset said. “After all, the whole under-city was built around a subway, right? So there must be stations leading down to it all over the place.”

“But if this is a trap, if Cinder wants us here, then surely, she’ll have the White Fang watching the subway stations,” Jaune pointed out. “I mean, it’s a great place for an ambush: they could catch us from both sides as we were going down.”

Sunset exhaled loudly. He had a point, but at the same time, how else were they supposed to get down into the underground? “Hey, Twilight, can you find out how many subway stations there are in Mountain Glenn?”

“Uh, just give me a second,” Twilight punched the keyboard, her fingers passing through the holograms to, in some cases, strike the table surface beneath. “Thirty five, including ones that hadn’t been opened yet but which were close to completion.”

“Can they really watch thirty five stations?” Sunset asked. “There has to be one that we can slip through undetected.”

“It looks like a very big place,” Penny observed. “How are we supposed to search such a large city by ourselves, just to find the right subway station? And then we’ll still have to find the White Fang after that.”

“If the White Fang are watching the subway stations, then they might help us out with that,” Jaune declared. “You’d expect the stations coming down closer to their main location to be more heavily guarded, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Blake replied. “The areas closer to base could also be more readily reinforced by central reserves in the case of attack, so it would make as much sense to deploy larger forces further out in locations which are more vulnerable and which would have to hold out alone for longer against assault.”

“That tactical model would disperse the White Fang’s total forces over a much larger area of ground,” Ciel pointed out. “It would take longer to concentrate their strength at the decisive point, since outlying units would have to be recalled first before the main body could move.”

“True, but the White Fang isn’t digging in to defend Mountain Glenn; they mean to use it as a staging ground for their attack on Vale,” Blake insisted. “Concentration times aren’t an issue for the attacker because they decide when they want to attack.”

“Except they haven’t done that; they’ve invited us to attack them,” Jaune reminded her.

Blake hesitated. “That’s a good point.”

“You all make good points,” Sunset said. “And if we had time to scout out every subway station and were sure that we were accurately observing their numbers, we might be able to plot it out, but I’m not sure we have time for that. If we can find an undefended way in, then we ought to take it.”

“Penny’s right,” Rainbow said. “It’s a lot of ground to cover. We’ll have to split up.”

“The White Fang may be jamming communications,” Blake warned.

“How?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“With a jammer, which they stole from you,” Blake replied casually. “It’ll be an older model, but it will do the job. Do you know what happens to obsolete equipment when its replacement gets rolled out?”

“All obsolete surplus is supposed to be destroyed,” Ciel declared.

“But some of it ends up on the black market,” Blake informed her. “Honestly, continued technological advances by Atlas are a big help to the White Fang in staying competitive.”

“Hmph,” Rainbow muttered.

“If they were jamming communications, then how could they talk to one another?” Ruby asked. “Wouldn’t they have to, like, send someone to run to every position with messages?”

“Unless they’re all in a tight space,” Jaune pointed out.

“I suppose there is an inherent contradiction,” Blake admitted. “But we won’t know until we get there.”

“Even if they’re not jammed, the signal quality outside of our scrolls’ independent range is likely to be garbage, seeing as how the Mountain Glenn relay will have either been destroyed by grimm or broken from twenty or so years' lack of maintenance,” Sunset pointed out.

“Could we get it working again?” Penny suggested.

“Even Twilight would struggle with that, after all these years,” Rainbow replied.

“And it will only get worse after we get underground,” Sunset pointed out.

“The question of whether or not we could talk to one another is bad enough,” Pyrrha said, “but if communications are jammed, or even if we’re simply at the mercy of terrible signal, then how are we supposed to get a message back to Vale if we find anything?”

Nobody had an obvious answer to that, and silence briefly descended upon the group as they pondered the question.

“I don’t suppose Atlas has come up with something like a portable relay we could borrow?” Ruby suggested hopefully.

“It’s being looked at, but so far there’s been no luck miniaturising the technology,” Twilight admitted. She frowned. “What if… what if… okay, so I might have an idea. What if I was in a second airship following on behind you at a distance? I could set down away from Mountain Glenn, but with the transmitter on the airship, I might still be able to get in touch with your scrolls. Then, if you find anything, I could fly back to Vale and make contact with HQ, while you stayed on station and continued to observe, without the worry that anything you reported would be obsolete by the time the main force arrived.”

“I’m not sure that an ordinary airship would be able to get through a deadzone created by jamming,” Blake murmured. “But if they aren’t jammed, then I think it could work.”

“Except for the fact that you’ll be sitting in the middle of wild countryside in a parked airship all by yourself,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I could have… backup with me,” Twilight said. “Like Team Tsunami. And that way, if you ran into any trouble, you’d have help close at hand.”

“I’m not sure Trixie will appreciate sitting around as our backup,” Rainbow said.

“She’ll do it if she’s ordered too,” Twilight replied. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask. Like Sunset said, this is a legitimate mission; we don’t have to tell them any of the… other stuff, and I could even operate my drones to assist in the search!”

Rainbow nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Okay, if we can get Team Tsunami on board, then we’ll do that. Add it to the plan.”

“Why Team Tsunami?” Ruby asked. “Why not the rest of Team Iron, if Blake’s going with us?”

“Because, no offence to your sister, but I trust Tsunami more,” Rainbow said. “Trixie may be a loudmouth, but Starlight’s got what it takes.”

“So does Yang!” Ruby insisted.

“No one doubts the competence of Yang, Ren, or Nora,” Pyrrha assured Ruby, placing a hand gently upon her shoulder. “But this will be an unusual task for a Beacon team to undertake, especially in mission week when all teams are expected to undertake their own field assignments, but for an Atlesian team, it is… more expected.” She smiled. “And, although there is no dishonour in being ready to assist comrades in jeopardy or in protecting… the vulnerable,” – she glanced apologetically at Twilight – “there is little glory in it either, especially considering what other assignments the rest of Iron may choose instead. We wouldn’t want to deprive Yang and the others of their chance to earn renown in the field, would we?”

“No,” Ruby murmured. “No, I wouldn’t want to do that. You’re right, I guess whoever does it will be pretty bored if everything goes according to plan.”

“That is our hope, indeed,” Pyrrha replied.

“Let’s assume then that we’ve managed to get underground,” Sunset said. “Blake, do you have any ideas where the White Fang would hide in the underground city?”

“I’m still amazed that the White Fang are hiding in an underground city,” Blake admitted. “They’re acting like animals, like the animals that we’re so often accused of being. This is so far outside of my usual experience that I’m not sure what to say.”

“Fair enough,” Rainbow muttered. “But it would have to be somewhere big enough to hold an army, plus there’s the stolen equipment to consider, and the dust too-”

“The railway yard at the end of the subway line on the map,” Sunset said, bending over Twilight to point it out. “There. It was built to store things, so they could keep the dust, there’s plenty of space for their Paladins, and you could probably camp troops there and in the surrounding area. I can’t see anywhere better suited.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured, taking a look. She stared at the map for a moment. “Okay,” she said, “here’s what we’ll do-”

“Once we’ve entered the underground, Team Rosepetal and Team Sapphire will split up and approach the railway yard from east and west,” Rainbow announced. She stood in General Ironwood’s office, the mission plan that Twilight had typed up for her sitting on the General’s desk. She was at ease, her feet spread apart and her hands clasped behind her back. “That way, we can see more. Then we’ll meet back up at the Yardmaster’s House, share intel, and report back to Twilight with the backup team.”

General Ironwood had his hands clasped together, elbows resting on his desk; his hands partially obscured his face, but even the part that Rainbow could see wasn’t giving anything away in terms of how she was doing. The General didn’t like to give his feedback until you were done, and he didn’t like you to know how you were doing until you were done either. “I see,” he murmured. “What if you can’t get a signal from underground?”

“Then I’ll head back up top, leaving Sunset in charge,” Rainbow replied. “Either way, once we’ve made our report to Twilight, if there is anything to report, we’ll stay on station and continue observing until the main force arrives.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Is that all?” he asked.

Rainbow swallowed. That wasn’t a good sign. “Yes, sir.”

“What about your escape plan?” he prompted.

Rainbow licked her lips. “We… we hadn’t thought about it, sir.”

“I see,” General Ironwood repeated, with only a touch of disappointment entering his voice. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing that Professor Goodwitch has volunteered to accompany you on your mission. She feels, and Professor Ozpin agrees, that as capable as you are, this is one mission that could do with being supervised by a fully-trained and qualified huntress.”

“And you, sir?”

“And me, Dash,” General Ironwood confirmed. “There is a lot riding on this, as you well know. I was considering assigning Specialist Schnee, but with Professor Goodwitch riding along, that won’t be necessary. Gly- Professor Goodwitch is the better choice; she’s already in the know about everything related to this mission.”

“Permission to ask a question, sir?”

“Granted, although I don’t guarantee an answer.”

“Why doesn’t Specialist Schnee know about… all of this?” Rainbow asked. “Why us and not her?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “I may answer that another time, Dash, but not right now.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologise; it’s a fair question,” General Ironwood told her. “And one that has an answer, just not one that you need to hear.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “So… if Professor Goodwitch is in charge-”

“Professor Goodwitch will be supervising your efforts,” General Ironwood corrected him. “The time that you and your comrades spent on this plan wasn’t wasted. You’ll still lead your team, Miss Shimmer will still lead Team Sapphire, and you’ll be expected to work together to get the job done. However, if at any point Professor Goodwitch decides to scrub the mission, then that’s it: no arguments, no hesitation, you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, Dash,” General Ironwood warned her. “I expect you to obey her as you would obey me.”

Rainbow frowned slightly. “Can I trust her judgement as much as I’d trust yours, sir?”

“Yes,” General Ironwood told him. “Gl- Professor Goodwitch is one of the best damned huntresses I’ve ever met. She was the youngest woman to ever teach at one of the academies, and for good reason. You could all learn a lot from her.”

“I’m not sure she likes us very much, sir,” Rainbow pointed out.

General Ironwood smiled a little. “I have faith in your charms to win her over,” he told Dash. “Now, about your plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll approve the use of Team Tsunami as backup and to protect Twilight; that was good thinking to use her as support and a messenger.”

“Thank you, sir, I’ll be sure to let Twilight know you were impressed.”

“In addition, I’ll assign Resolution and Gallant to approach the southeast quadrant in company; they’ll form the first wave of our response and your safety net if you get into serious trouble.”

“Understood, sir.”

“As for the rest of your plan, it’s a sound basis,” General Ironwood declared. “My only comment is that you’re splitting up too early. I understand you want to reconnoitre as much of the yard as possible – and I agree that your assumption that that’s where the White Fang are based is plausible – but what if your rendezvous point is occupied by the enemy? In a situation where communications are likely to be hampered – and where communicating might be dangerous – you want to ascertain facts like that before you split up.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Still, this is good work,” General Ironwood informed her. “You’ve done your homework on Mountain Glenn.”

“That’s Ruby’s doing, sir; she really knows what she’s talking about when it comes to that place.”

“I see,” General Ironwood murmured. “Did she tell you what happened after the city fell?”

“I know that her parents were in the thick of it, sir,” Rainbow replied.

“Indeed, that’s my understanding as well,” General Ironwood replied. He got up, walking to the window where he could look out over Vale, his hands clasped behind his back. “A remarkable woman, Summer Rose.”

“You knew her, sir?”

“Not as well as I would have liked,” General Ironwood said. “I first met her here at Beacon, when I came here for the Vytal Festival, just like you. I was in my final year, while Team Stark were only second-years, but… I got to know her better later, through our mutual membership of Professor Ozpin’s circle. She was… a leader. When she spoke, you could tell that she wasn’t a trained orator, but by the gods, she could put a fire in your belly and make you believe that anything was possible.”

“Why are you telling me this, sir?” Rainbow asked.

General Ironwood was quiet for a moment. “Because Summer Rose was one of the good ones, and she was taken too damn soon, and because the only legacy she left behind was one little girl. More than a few people would be much obliged to you if you’d make sure that Miss Rose comes out of Mountain Glenn alive. That family has suffered enough.”

“Permission to speak, sir?”

“Granted.”

“I mean to make sure that everyone comes back alive, sir,” Rainbow said. “Me and Sunset both do.”

“I’m sure you do, Dash,” General Ironwood said. “I’m sure you do.” He paused. “So, now that you’ve had some time to think it all over, what are your thoughts on everything?”

Rainbow was silent for a little bit, thinking, trying to think of how to put just what she thought. “It’s strange to think there’s someone out there we can’t beat, sir.”

“We can’t kill Salem,” General Ironwood corrected her. “We can defeat her armies, and her servants.”

“Yes, sir, and we will,” Rainbow vowed. “We’ve got too much to lose to… lose.”

General Ironwood nodded. “I know that the idea of some kind of ultimate victory is a tempting one. Once the idea gets into your head, you feel the desire to make all the losses, all the sacrifices, mean something-”

“And to make them stop, sir,” Rainbow said. “If Scootaloo wants to become a huntress in spite of her condition, then I’ll help, but not much would make me happier than if she didn’t have to.”

“And what about you, Dash?” General Ironwood asked. “If you didn’t have to, if we could defeat Salem and the grimm disappeared, what would you do?”

Rainbow blinked. “You’ve never asked me anything like that before, sir?”

“It’s never come up before,” General Ironwood replied.

Rainbow didn’t have to think about it. “Test pilot, sir. Always going higher and faster.”

General Ironwood smiled. “I can see it.”

“What about you, sir?” Rainbow asked.

General Ironwood didn’t reply for a moment, and Rainbow worried that she might have overstepped the bound, but then, the moment passed, and he said, “I think that I’d still like to teach. History, maybe.”

Rainbow smiled. “I can see that, too, sir.”

“I hope so, Dash, given that I am a teacher,” General Ironwood declared. “Gods know I get more fulfilment out of the headmaster part of my job than the general.”

“Really, sir?”

“You sound surprised,” General Ironwood observed. “In one role, I get to nurture kids like you, and Soleil and Glimmer and all the rest, give you the knowledge and the support you need to watch you grow into fine, outstanding young men and women. And then, in my other role, I send you out to die for Atlas. Which do you think I prefer?”

“Well, when you put it like that, sir,” Rainbow muttered. “But the truth is, even if all of that did happen, I guess someone would still be needed to protect the kingdom, right? I mean it’s not like the White Fang would just go away.”

“No,” General Ironwood admitted. “No, I don’t suppose they would.”

“Then I’d like Applejack to go back to the farm, and I’d stick around to take care of everything else,” Rainbow said. “It might be nice to dream about what might happen if… but since it ain’t gonna happen, I… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m in this for the long haul, sir.”

“Just like that, Dash?”

Rainbow glanced away. “I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t knock me a little bit, but… what am I gonna do except get on with it? Quit because there isn’t an end in sight? That’s not my style, sir. Like I said, I’ve got too much to lose.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” General Ironwood said. “That’s the kind of attitude we need around here: someone who can accept this fight for what it is and fight it anyway, without losing their nerve thanks to the nature of it. We might not be able to bring her down, but if we hold her off for even one more day than it would have taken her otherwise… just one more day, that’s a victory. Now, I suggest you make the rest of your preparations, and then relax as best you can. Gods know you might not get another chance to relax for a while.”

“Yes, sir.”

Talks With Mothers (Rewrite)

Talks With Mothers

“It’s weird,” Blake said. “To think that this could be over soon.”

Sunset was sat on her bed, infusing fire dust into Soteria. If they were going to walk into a trap, she didn’t want to do it unprepared or without any of her wide array of weapons and defences. That was why she’d re-infused her jacket and bracers with dust – fire, again, for the jacket, and lighting for the bracers – as well. It wouldn’t exactly be great if her phoenix cape sputtered and died halfway through a fight because she’d been too lazy to infuse more dust.

Blake’s remark made her look up. “'Over'?” Sunset asked, a little confused about what might be over soon. Indeed, given what Sunset and Pyrrha had found out and then relayed back to the others, it was beginning to look as though some things might never be over.

Not that we ever had any right to suspect they would be. As Pyrrha said, it was nought but vanity to believe otherwise.

Thank Celestia I am not so vain as once I was, or this knowledge might have broken me. She was fortunate to have learnt to mine her courage from a different lode since then.

“The threat from the White Fang to Vale,” Blake explained. “It might not, but… if this base in Mountain Glenn is as big as Torchwick says it is, if so much of their strength and equipment is there… this could cripple the Vale chapter for years.” She frowned, as if she wasn’t exactly sure how she’d feel about that if it came to pass. “If that happens, Atlas wouldn’t need my help any more. That’s what would end. This.” She smiled sadly. “I’ll miss this when it’s gone.”

“We’ll miss going on missions with you too, Blake,” Ruby said. “But you’ll only be across the hall, and just because we’re not working together any more doesn’t mean that we won’t see each other, right? Just because we’ve beaten the White Fang doesn’t mean that we can’t still be friends.”

Blake’s smile broadened just a little, and the frost that had covered it like a flower in winter melted somewhat. “No, you’re right, of course.”

“Unless you go to Atlas,” Sunset said softly, “with the Rosepetals.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted, with a sigh in her voice. “Unless I go to Atlas.” She paused. “If that happens, I really will miss you. All of you.”

“It will be entirely mutual, I assure you,” Pyrrha told her. “You still haven’t come to a firm decision either way?”

“No,” Blake confessed. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured.

“I haven’t!” Blake insisted, her voice rising. “I… there is a lot to admire about the Atlesian students, their courage, their commitment-”

“And what are we, cowards?” Sunset demanded.

“Sunset,” Jaune said reproachfully, “you know that’s not what Blake meant.”

“Didn’t you?” Sunset asked.

“No! I just meant… there’s so much good in them,” Blake said. “And that appeals to me. The good that I could do in Atlas appeals to me. But then… then I remember…” One hand rose, brushing gently against the side of her face.

“Remember what?” Ruby asked.

Blake smiled fondly. “Nothing,” she said; neither she nor Sunset had told Ruby about the brand on Adam’s face; they hadn’t told any of the human members of Team SAPR. It was not their concern, nothing for them to worry about. For Sunset’s part, she suspected that what Blake would have said if Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune hadn’t been there was that it bothered her that after all this time, Rainbow’s promise that her powerful friends would look into it had yielded no visible results. Either Councillor Cadenza wasn’t really interested, or even the power of a Councillor was as nothing compared to the wealth and influence of the SDC.

Neither option was particularly appealing.

“I suppose,” Blake went on, “I sometimes wonder if I’m seeing the very best of Atlas here at Beacon, and the real thing will turn out to be much dirtier once I get there.” Once more she paused. “But that… that’s all for the future. For now… I just can’t believe that this whole story might be over soon.”

“If it is, another one will start soon enough,” Ruby said.

Blake chuckled. “Probably,” she conceded. “Still, this is one tale I’m sure we’ll all be glad to put behind us.”

Sunset got to her feet. “Whether we knock the White Fang out – in Vale at least – or not in the next few days or however long this mission takes, whether you want to go to Atlas or not… you’ll always be an honorary member of Team Sapphire.” She grinned. “You put your name on the wall; there’s no getting away from us now.” She paused for a moment. “Except for the Vytal Festival, of course; then we’re going to have to kick your ass along with the rest of Team Iron.”

“I think Yang might have something to say about that,” Blake said.

“Yang can say whatever she likes; I’ve got the better team, and I know it,” Sunset said. “And soon, the whole of Remnant is going to know it too.”

“Are you really thinking about the Vytal festival at a time like this?” Jaune asked.

“Hey, we’ll have saved Vale from the White Fang by then,” Sunset said. “We might as well complete the trick by defending its honour against the other kingdoms. And really, who is there to stand in our way?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate Yang,” Pyrrha said, softly and calmly. “Or Weiss either, for that matter. Not to mention Arslan.” She looked up from the fine-tuning she was doing to Miló. “I wonder who Rosepetal will send into the singles round.”

“Penny,” Sunset said. “It has to be.”

“Rainbow Dash wouldn’t say no to a chance at glory on the world stage,” Blake pointed out.

“Maybe, but you don’t build someone like Penny and then not show her off where the world is watching,” Sunset replied. “But I guess Jaune might have kind of a point: we can speculate on the tournament all we like after we get back from the mission. I’ve got something I want to ask you first: have you ever used dust?”

Blake blinked in surprise. “I’ve used it, sometimes, when I could steal some. I don’t do that any more.”

Sunset reached into her pocket and pulled out the money card she’d gotten from Lady Nikos. “Lady Nikos gave me this; she tops it up every month. So long as you only buy dust and ammo with it, and don’t splash out on dirty books or something, then she’ll never know it wasn’t me making the purchases.”

“I do not read dirty books,” Blake declared proudly. “I read romances… sometimes erotic romances.” She hesitated. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“I was given this so that I could be at my best as Pyrrha’s teammate,” Sunset said. “Her mother didn’t want Pyrrha to suffer because her team leader was hampered by poverty. I’m lending it to you so that you can be at your best as all our teammate on this mission. You say you’ve used dust before, so it can’t hurt.”

Blake lightly plucked the money card out of Sunset’s hand. “You know I don’t usually take charity.”

“Neither do I,” Sunset said.

Blake nodded. “Thanks.”

“You can pay me back by setting something on fire when we get to Mountain Glenn.”

Blake snorted. “I should probably go now, or I might as well, at least. There’s no point leaving it until the afternoon.” With one hand, she reached for the door handle.

“Uh, I need to go too,” Ruby said, shooting to her feet. “Um, not because I’m going shopping or anything; I just… I need to talk to Yang about something, so, uh, yeah. I’ll be back really soon. Probably.”

Sunset looked at her. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to talk to Yang?”

“Yeah!”

“Then why are you acting so nervous?” Sunset asked. “What are you going to talk to her about?”

“Oh, you know,” Ruby murmured, looking down at her hands. “Stuff. Sister stuff. Salem-”

“What?” Jaune exclaimed.

“Ruby,” Pyrrha said, more gently but sounding no less concerned. “You want to tell her… everything?”

Sunset said nothing, but folded her arms as she regarded Ruby keenly.

Ruby hesitated, silent for a moment or two. When she spoke, her voice was small and high and childlike, younger even than she normally sounded. “She’s my sister,” Ruby said. “I’ve never kept any secrets from her before, none. When I was little, after my mom died, Yang used to read to me before I went to bed. She’d make dinner when Dad was… she took care of me. No matter what happened, we always had one another. I can’t know all of this stuff and not tell her; I won’t. She’s my sister, and if I know, then she knows. Besides, if our mom was involved in this, then she deserves to know, and her mom too… you know what I mean.”

Sunset nodded. “Don’t worry, we understand. Off you go then, and we’ll see you when you get back.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “Ruby… are you sure that this is a good idea? Professor Ozpin-”

“Can kick us out of the club if he doesn’t like it,” Sunset said. “Which he didn’t do when we told Ruby in the first place, so I think it’s unlikely that he’ll bestir himself now, even if he finds out.”

“But we were asked to be discreet about all this,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yang won’t tell anyone else,” Ruby promised. “I’ll make sure that we’re alone, and I’ll ask her not to tell Ren or Nora.”

Pyrrha didn’t look entirely convinced or mollified by that, but she said nothing further about it.

“Well… I’ll be back soon,” Ruby said. “Probably.”

“Me too,” Blake said. “Although not as quickly as Ruby… probably.” She smiled a little, as she opened the door and held it open for Ruby. They both left the room, and the door closed behind them both.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset. “Do you believe that this is a good idea?”

“Do you believe it’s such a bad idea that we should have done something to prevent it?” Sunset replied.

“We could have persuaded her not to go through with it,” Pyrrha murmured.

“And made her miserable, most likely,” Sunset said. “Why?”

“Because Professor Ozpin asked us to keep this to ourselves,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“My loyalty is to this team, not to Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said. “If this is what Ruby wants, then I see no reason to object.”

“Would you feel the same way if she wanted to tell Yang about magic?” Pyrrha asked. “Another secret she’s keeping from her sister.”

Sunset opened her mouth, but no words came out. Not at first, anyway. It took her a moment to find any. “That,” she replied magisterially, “is completely different. That particular secret harms no one, and is no business of Yang Xiao-Long.”

“Professor Ozpin might say the same.”

“Professor Ozpin’s knowledge is the business of all huntsmen and huntresses,” Sunset said. “And after telling nine people, what’s one more?”

Jaune sheathed his sword. “I… I need to step out for a minute too. I think.”

“You think?” Sunset asked.

Jaune didn’t get up off his bed. He had his elbows resting on his knees, and he was looking down at his hands. “Yeah. I’m still… not quite sure yet.”

Pyrrha put down Miló and Akoúo̱ and got up, walking towards Jaune. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said, without a completely convincing level of conviction.

“Are you sure?” Sunset said. “Because…” She hesitated to say this, because they could use his semblance out there in the field, but if his heart and head weren’t in it, then he might end up being more hindrance than help. “If you don’t want to-”

“It’s not about that,” Jaune said quickly. “I’m not going to walk away from all of you, especially not now, with so much at stake. This is something else.”

“Like?” Sunset asked.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Pyrrha reminded Jaune and Sunset both, as she sat down on the bed beside him.

Jaune shook his head. “You’ll probably think this is stupid, but… I was thinking… I’ve been thinking for a little while… whether or not I should call my family.”

He waited, as if he were expecting some kind of reaction other than the silence which greeted that pronouncement. Sunset wondered if he was expecting them to laugh at him and mock the triviality of what he said.

Well, Pyrrha wasn’t the kind to laugh at her boyfriend, and Sunset… Sunset understood that this wasn’t a trivial thing, not in the least.

“When was the last time you spoke to them?” Sunset asked as she began to walk slowly towards him, stopping at Pyrrha’s bed, the next one away from Jaune’s.

“On the night before I left for Beacon,” Jaune said.

That didn’t sound too good. “You had a fight?”

“No, I snuck out in the middle of the night without telling anybody where I was going or what I was gonna do,” Jaune said. “I stole Crocea Mors, and I left, and… I didn’t look back. Until recently.”

Pyrrha put a hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Were they… cruel to you?”

“What? No,” Jaune said quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought… you must have had a reason for running away.”

“I did,” Jaune replied. “I wanted to come here, and my parents never would have let me go if I’d told them about it. When I did try to tell them about it, they… they didn’t believe in me. Mom thought I’d get myself killed; my sisters too. Dad told me there was no point, I’d be back home in a week anyway. Which is why I had to leave: this has been my dream, and you guys… you’re like my family now too. But I was thinking that maybe… maybe-”

“Maybe you should try and mend fences with them, now that you’re here,” Sunset said. “Because you still love them, in spite of everything.”

Jaune looked up and looked at Sunset over his shoulder. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Sunset asked.

Jaune looked at her, and then looked down once more. “I’m not sure if they’d care. I left them a note telling everybody where I’d gone. I was a little worried that they’d come to try and take me back home… but I was also worried that they wouldn’t. What if I call, and it turns out… it turns out that they never cared at all?”

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Sunset said. She walked around until she was standing in front of Jaune so that he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder at her any more. “It might seem that way, and I get why, believe me.” She squatted down in front of him and reached for his hands. “I get that you’re scared. You’re afraid to find out what they think about what you did, what they think about you now. You’re afraid to find out that your worst fears are true. But if you don’t take this step and reach out to them, then those fears aren’t going to go away. They’ll just continue to fester and grow and breed in the darkness, and they’ll drive you crazy. But if you reach out, then I’m sure you’ll find that they love you just as much as they always did, because there’s no way that they could stop loving you, even if they wanted to… any more than you could stop loving them.”

Jaune frowned. “Then why couldn’t they believe in me?”

“Love has nothing to do with belief,” Pyrrha said. “You can believe in someone, at least in part, without loving them… and so, why shouldn’t the reverse be true as well: love… without faith?”

“Plus, let’s be honest, you were pretty useless when you first got here,” Sunset said, with a smile to show that she didn’t mean it to be cruel or harsh.

Jaune chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I guess I wouldn’t have made it here without help. A lot of help.” He looked at Sunset, and then at Pyrrha. “Do you really think that I should do this?”

Sunset nodded. “You’ll be happier once you do.”

“If it’s what you want,” Pyrrha said, sounding a more cautious note. “Then you should do it.” She smiled. “Just remember: we won’t let them take you away from here for so long as you don’t want to leave.”

Jaune laughed again. “Right.” He stood up. “Now, I just need to find somewhere private.”

“We can go, if you’d like the room,” Pyrrha said.

“No, you’re not done yet, and we have a mission to prep for,” Jaune said. “I’ll find somewhere.” He grabbed his scroll from where it was resting on his pillow and shoved it into the pockets of his jeans before he walked towards the door. “Thanks a lot,” he said, as he opened said door. “I just needed that extra push.”

Then he left too, and Sunset and Pyrrha were alone together.

“I hope it works out for him,” Pyrrha said, her voice subdued.

Sunset frowned as she stood up. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset out of the corner of her eyes. “You assume that it will?”

“It did for me,” Sunset said. “Although Princess Celestia isn’t my mother, I… I loved her as though she was.” She began to walk away, back to her bed and her waiting sword. “And so did she, as it turns out, despite all my fears and all the distance that had in every sense grown between us. She loved me, in spite of everything. And I only needed to reach out to her to see that.”

Pyrrha nodded. A sigh escaped her mouth. “Not everyone is so fortunate in their parents.”

“Your mother loves you,” she said softly.

“Will she remember it, before the end?” Pyrrha asked in response.

“She has not forgotten,” Sunset insisted. “I do not believe she has forgotten.”

“Then why can she not admit that she is wrong?” Pyrrha demanded. “That is all I ask! I do not even demand that she should like Jaune, only that she say ‘I am sorry, and I accept your choice.’ Is that so much to ask?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “No,” she admitted.

“No,” Pyrrha repeated. “And yet…”

“And yet?”

“And yet, I feel as though…” Pyrrha sighed. “I feel as though I have you on my shoulder urging me to reach out to her.”

“Sorry,” Sunset winced.

“I meant it metaphorically, not in reference to the number of times you have actually urged me to reach out to her,” Pyrrha explained.

“Nevertheless, you have my apology if I have been overbearing.”

“You have, where this subject has been concerned,” Pyrrha informed her. “But I understand why. You care for my mother.”

“I find her a noble lady.”

“But she is not your Princess Celestia,” Pyrrha told her. “Even if she did always love me as I am, my mother’s back would never bend enough to let her tell me so. I fear she is beyond contrition.” She sighed once more. “And yet. And yet, and yet, and yet…”

Sunset waited, silent, expectant, saying nothing that would give Pyrrha a chance to avoid finishing her thought.

“And yet,” Pyrrha repeated. “As you reminded me, through deeds and words, we are all but mortal. And this battle in Mountain Glenn… it will be dangerous, without a doubt.”

Sunset closed her eyes. This was what she had wanted, but… but now that it had come, it felt wrong, somehow. Yes, she had said that Pyrrha should not die estranged from her mother, but now… now that Lady Nikos was on the brink of getting what she wanted, it felt… wrong.

Pyrrha was not giving in because she had accepted Sunset’s arguments, but because she was afraid. She had been rattled by everything that they had learned, and so, the dangers of this mission loomed larger overhead than they might have done.

And it pained her.

“Stop,” she begged, sitting down next to Pyrrha and putting one arm around her, drawing the champion of Mistral close. “Stop,” she repeated.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Is this not what you wanted?”

“Not like this,” Sunset replied. “And if I did… I never wanted you to surrender. I never wanted to see you surrender.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “No?” she asked.

Sunset shook her head. “You said in the garage that we had reached the end of vanity-”

“Have we not?” Pyrrha asked. “Knowing what we now know?”

“Knowing what we know now, without our pride, we have not ourselves,” Sunset declared. “Without ourselves, we have nothing. Yes, the world is more dangerous now than it seemed before. We face not grimm but the timeless lady who commands them all, who gathers to her adversaries like Cinder. But how are we to avoid despair if not by pride? Who but the proud would plant themselves between this evil and all that they desire? Who but the proud and vain would not be cowed by her? Take heart, I beg of you, for if we are to prevail, it is by stepping forth and saying ‘I am Pyrrha Nikos, Princess Without a Crown, and my name is equal to withstand your villainy!’”

Pyrrha managed to raise a chuckle at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m not sure I could ever imagine myself saying that.”

“Speak it with your heart, at least, I implore you,” Sunset said softly. “Without ourselves… our selves are all we have.”

“Our selves,” Pyrrha murmured. “And one another.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. She nodded, “Yes,” she acknowledged, “and one another.”

Pyrrha smiled at her, briefly. “Will you stay here, with me, when I call her?” she asked.

“Pyrrha-”

“I will not surrender,” Pyrrha promised. “But, since we might die, for all our best effort and our skill and valour, I would give her a chance to apologise so that we may make things right between us.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment, before a slow smile spread across her face. “And that,” she declared, “that is how we’re going to beat Salem.”

“I would not go that far,” Pyrrha murmured. “Will you stay?”

Sunset thought about it for a moment before deciding that, whatever Lady Nikos might think, she still could not decently refuse. “Yes,” she said. “I will.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly as she got out her scroll and called Lady Nikos.

The two of them waited, sat side by side upon the bed. Sunset took her arm away from Pyrrha’s shoulder, in case Lady Nikos thought that this had been Sunset’s idea or something.

After a few moments, which seemed to stretch on more than they had any right to as the scroll buzzed in Pyrrha’s hands, the face of Lady Nikos appeared on the screen. It was hard to tell at this angle, but Sunset reckoned that she saw hope in Lady Nikos’s face, dancing in her green eyes as she looked up at them.

“Pyrrha,” she said. “And Miss Shimmer too. This is… a surprise.”

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Pyrrha said.

“Good morning, Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos replied in an even tone. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call? I can see from Miss Shimmer’s presence that she has not suffered another brush with death.”

Sunset ventured a smile. “Indeed, my lady, I am in good health.”

“I am glad to hear it, Miss Shimmer, but my curiosity is whetted nonetheless.”

“Mother,” Pyrrha said. “I… I have decided…” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to give you a chance to apologise.” The words emerged from her mouth quickly, as though trying to escape before it was too late.

“'Apologise'?” Lady Nikos repeated incredulously, her eyebrows rising.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“You denounce me to my face, storm out of my house, do not speak to me save from grim necessity, and yet you would have me apologise?” Lady Nikos demanded.

“I would have you apologise for lying to the man I love in pursuit of matching me with a man whom I do not,” Pyrrha declared.

“I am open to acceptance of Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos replied. “Has Miss Shimmer not told you-”

“I am aware that you have asked Sunset to find some proof that Jaune is a gentleman born,” Pyrrha said. “Sunset also believes that you may be content with a pretty lie upon that account. If that will help you save face with Councillor Ward and Lady Ming and the Lord Steward, then that is your business, Mother, and I will not hinder it, but that is not what I want. I do not need your begrudging acceptance of Jaune, I know his worth, and though I am saddened that you cannot see him as I do, I do not require it. What I want is your admission that you behaved intolerably, and your regret.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “What brings on this sudden demand?”

Pyrrha did not mention the mission. Sunset respected that Pyrrha wouldn’t try and guilt her mother into action the way that, well, the way that Sunset had tried to guilt Pyrrha. Instead, she said, “A friend has recently reminded me that we are nothing without a touch of pride.”

“I did not advise this course, my lady,” Sunset said quickly. “Counsel meant for different circumstances has been… applied as I did not foresee.”

“I would not disdain you if you had counselled it, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “In fact, I might even thank you.”

Sunset blinked. “My lady?”

“I asked you to bring about a reconciliation between Pyrrha and myself,” Lady Nikos declared. “And now, here we are, upon the cusp of reconciliation. Miss Shimmer, if you find the time, I would appreciate your continued researches into Mister Arc’s background. As Pyrrha points out, it will save me face amongst what remains of my social circle.”

“Um,” Sunset hesitated. She bowed her head. “I will endeavour to oblige, my lady.”

Lady Nikos nodded, before she returned her full attention towards her daughter. For a moment, she said nothing. Only at length did words emerge. “Pyrrha,” she said, “I am glad to see that you are finally developing the self-respect proper to your rank and birth and skill at arms,” she began. “I am sorry that it is in the cause of your relations with Mister Arc-”

“Mother-” Pyrrha began.

“But I take comfort from the hope that the seed planted there will flower to more aspects of your life besides.” Lady Nikos paused. “I have grown old before my time,” she confessed. “And in my old age, I have forgotten what it is to be young. I am sorry, Pyrrha. I did not treat your guest with the courtesy he was entitled to expect in my house, and I did ill in seeking to dispose of you according to my own designs without reference to your will.”

Pyrrha stared down at her mother’s face in silence a moment, before she said, “Thank you, Mother. I accept your apology.”

“Does this mean that the silence is broken between us?”

“I will answer if you call,” Pyrrha replied. “Although we will be out of contact for the next few days, perhaps until the semester ends.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured, and Sunset was almost certain that she understood – or guessed – what Pyrrha was not saying. “Then I wish you good fortune on your mission,” she said, glancing at Sunset. “Good luck to both of you.”

Jaune had debated calling Saphron first, because of all his sisters, she had often seemed to be the one who ‘got him’ the most, although that might just be the fact that she was too old to actively tease him in the way that some of his sisters closer to his own age had, or maybe it was the fact that she’d moved out of the house and hadn’t bugged him the way that some of the others had for longer, or maybe she really did get him more than most of his family… but it didn’t really matter because Saphron would be at work about now, and anyway, she’d probably just tell him to call Mom anyway.

He was in Doctor Oobleck’s history classroom, empty because it wasn’t time for class, and he was sat on one of the benches with his feet braced against the desk, his scroll in his hands, waiting to be used.

Video, or voice only?

He decided to go for voice only this time. He wasn’t sure – Sunset’s assurances aside – that he wanted to see her face.

The scroll rang a few times – eleven times; yes, he was counting – before his mother answered in her familiar, musical voice. “Hello?”

Jaune couldn’t speak. His words were stuck in his throat. What was he supposed to say? Should he have thought of something to say before he called? Should he have written it down somewhere? He hadn’t said anything to his mom for months, not since he walked away in the middle of the night, leaving a note behind, so what was he supposed to say now?

What was he supposed to say?

“Hello?” Mom asked again. “Is anyone there?”

“Hey, Mom,” Jaune said, or rather, those were the words that he managed to get out, inadequate as they were.

There was silence on the other end of the line. “Jaune?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said slowly, cautiously. “Yeah, Mom, it’s me.”

“Oh my…” Mom murmured. “Thank goodness, I’ve been so… where are you?”

“I’m at Beacon Academy,” Jaune said, trying to sound upbeat. “Right where I told you I was going.”

“You mean you made it? And you’re still there?”

And that right there is exactly why I left. Jaune couldn’t help but feel a little chagrined, and a little bit vindicated at the same time. “Yes, Mom, I’m still there. I’m actually doing pretty great.”

“But how?” Mom asked. “I’m sorry, that… you must think I’m terrible.”

“No, Mom,” Jaune said, and it was mostly true. “I don’t think that.”

“Then why did you leave?” Mom demanded, her voice rising. “And why did you leave like that? A note? In the middle of the night? Sky had every deputy out searching the woods; I kept waiting for her to come home and tell me they’d found your body! Gold told me that you’d come back on your own after a couple of days-”

“Really? Dad actually said that?” Jaune squawked indignantly. He’d know that his father didn’t think he was up to much but come on! “Did you think that I was just acting out or something?!”

His mother’s silence on the other end of the line said everything that needed to be said on the matter. They had thought it was all just a stupid teenage temper tantrum, theft and note and all. They had thought that he’d come back after a short while with his tail between his legs, having learned his lesson.

And the worst part was that he might actually have done it. There had been a time when he had been so close to giving up. If it hadn’t been for everyone’s help… he’d be back home now, almost certainly.

“I asked Gold to go and look for you,” Mom said apologetically. “But you know your father; he said-”

“I can guess,” Jaune said quickly. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t have to explain, and you don’t have to apologise. I… I should be the one apologising for just walking out like that. I’m sorry if you were worried about me.”

“I wish I understood why you did it.”

“Because this is my dream,” Jaune said. “This is what I want to be, what I always wanted to be. I know that you thought I didn’t understand what it meant to be a huntsman, and… and you were right. I didn’t. I thought it would be easy and cool, and it isn’t; it’s hard work and… and it’s difficult decisions, knowing things and doing things that you might not always want to know or do.” Sitting here, talking to his mom – to his mom – again, the temptation was so great to just let it all flow out of him. To just spill the whole thing: everything that he knew, everything that had happened to him, everything that Sunset and Pyrrha had told him. Just let it out and let his mother take it all away from him.

But he didn’t, because he was a huntsman in training, and a part of being a huntsman was taking on the burdens so that others didn’t have to. Like Ruby’s mom had done. Like they were going to do.

Like he would do.

“It’s hard sometimes,” he said. “But it’s what I want to be. More than ever now.”

“But… how?” Mom asked. “When you left, you didn’t have any training, you didn’t know how to use that sword… I don’t mean to sound like I don’t have any faith in you; it’s just that I don’t understand how you’ve made it this far.”

Jaune took advantage of the fact that the call was voice-only to open up his pictures folder. He scrolled through some of the team photos that they’d had taken until he found one that included Blake in it; it was true that they hadn’t talked much at all, but considering that she’d been a big part of their first mission and was about to go with them on this one, it felt rude and wrong to just ignore her. Apart from that, the picture was one he thought his mom would like: a nice group shot of them all standing in front of Beacon Tower, arms around one another’s shoulders. Ruby was in the middle, with Sunset and then Blake on her right, and Pyrrha and then Jaune on her left, the taller members of the team – moreso Jaune and Pyrrha than Sunset or Blake – bending down so that their faces were on something of a level. They were all smiling, faces full of life and happiness.

Ignorant of everything that was to come. Of everything that they were to discover.

We’ll be like that again; wiser, maybe, but just as happy.

At least, I hope we will.

He sent the photo. “I just sent you a picture. Can you see it?”

There was a brief. “Yes, sweetie, I’ve got it now.”

“Those are my teammates,” Jaune said. “They’re my friends. Sunset, Pyrrha, Ruby, and on the left is Blake; she roomed with us for a while.” He decided not to tell his Mom that he and Pyrrha were dating, because he had no idea at all how she’d react to it. “They help me, and they take care of me a little bit, and I take care of them too. We’re a team, Team Sapphire, and we help each other get through the rough patches. They’re the reason I’ve made it this far, and I’d like to think that I’ve helped them make it too.”

“They’re… they’re good people, then?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “They’re the best.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not alone there at Beacon,” Mom said. “Although I am worried, the news said that a training exercise had gotten out of hand or something?”

“Um… yeah, I heard about that,” Jaune said, deciding that telling her he’d been right in the middle of that wasn’t necessary either. “A few more grimm showed up than people expected.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.”

“I’m training to be a huntsman, Mom; it’s not safe,” Jaune said. “But it’s important. I’m making a difference, and that’s what I want. That’s what I always wanted.”

“I thought you always wanted to wear a fancy costume like those comic book characters you kept reading about.”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Well… that too, sure.”

He could hear his mother sighing on the other end of the line. “Are you happy, dear?”

“Yes,” Jaune said earnestly. “I really am. I’m… I’m where I belong.”

“Then I’m glad for you,” she said. “I’ll probably never stop worrying – I am your mother after all – but I’d hate to see you waste away at home with nothing to do and nothing to motivate you. I’m glad you called. Your father will be glad too, when I tell him.”

“Is Dad around?” Jaune asked, hoping that he wasn’t because he didn’t really want to speak to his old man right now. Mom had turned out to be not nearly so bad as he’d feared, but his father was something else altogether.

“No, I’m afraid he’s at a meeting of the town elders, but I know he’ll be as pleased as I am to know that you’re… not safe, but you know what I mean. Jaune?”

“Yeah?”

“I know that you’re not coming home any time soon… but is there any chance that you could visit? Do they ever let you out of that place? Only, it’s your father’s birthday in a few weeks, and everyone’s getting together to celebrate. Saphron and Terra are even flying in from Argus. It would mean so much to all of us if you could come back for the party.”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Jaune said. Leaving aside the question of what he’d actually say to his father, the semester – and the mission, probably – would be over in time for him to go home for the holiday… but would he be in any state to go home by the time it was over? “I’m about to go on a mission; that’s why I called. I wanted to say something before I left. But I don’t know… I don’t know how long it’ll take. I’ll try my best, I promise.”

“A mission,” his mother murmured. “You mean…you’re going outside? You’re going to fight… the grimm?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said, because it was easier to let her assume it was the grimm than explain everything about the White Fang and Cinder.

“It’s going to be dangerous, isn’t it?”

“A little,” Jaune admitted. “But I’ve got my team with me, and we’re all watching out for one another.”

“I still remember when your sisters used to put your hair in pigtails,” Mom said.

“So do I,” Jaune muttered.

“My baby,” his mother murmured, her voice starting to sound a little choked, “please be careful out there.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The subplot of Pyrrha's feud with her mother wraps up, while Ruby's talk with Yang is no longer here.

This version of the chapter also includes a picture by Jackson Ferrell, one of the earliest I had commissioned for this story.

Words from the Headmaster (New)

Words from the Headmaster

As Ruby walked towards the YRBN dorm room, she felt her trepidation growing within her. She felt the desire to turn back and return to her own room rising. She felt a growing sense of nervousness at what she was about to do.

She wanted to tell Yang the truth. Yang was her sister, and she was already keeping far more secrets from her than she would like; at least she could tell herself that they weren’t any of Yang’s business and that it didn’t hurt her to not know them, but this? This was huge. This was something that affected them as people and as huntresses-in-training, and this was something that Yang deserved to know about, and yet, the thought of actually telling her was starting to make Ruby so nervous that it was turning her feet to lead.

“Are you okay?” asked Blake, who was walking by her side until their paths diverged at the dorm room.

“Yes,” Ruby said. “No. I don’t know how to tell Yang all this. Do you think I should tell Yang all this?”

Blake considered it. “What will it do to you if you don’t do this?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop thinking about it every time I talk to her,” murmured Ruby, looking down as she played with the hem of her skirt with both hands.

“Then tell her,” Blake said. “Don’t destroy what you have with your sister for the sake of Professor Ozpin or what he wants. It’s not worth it. It never is.”

Ruby nodded. “All the same… how do you think she’ll take it?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know. Certainly, I don’t know Yang nearly as well as you, if you don’t know… Yang is a good person, strong, smart, level-headed-”

“I know,” Ruby said plaintively.

“But this information…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “It’s a lot to take in. It’s hard to predict how anyone will react to it.”

“Do you think she’ll want to know?” asked Ruby.

“I think… I think she’ll want to know the truth, and from you,” Blake replied judiciously. “As for whether or not she’ll want to know… I can’t say. What I can say is that you can do this. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really,” Blake said. “I’ve never seen anyone so quick to run into danger as you. That’s why it’s a little weird that this is what’s bothering you.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, grimm are easier than conversations, sometimes.”

Blake chuckled. “Right.” They had reached the YRBN dorm door. “Well, I guess this is it. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I think so. I hope so. Maybe.”

“You’ll be fine,” Blake said. She smiled. “Good luck in there.”

“You too,” Ruby said reflexively, because what did Blake need luck for right now? Still, the faunus girl accepted her words and didn’t question them; she waved at Ruby as she walked away. Ruby watched her go, waving back for a moment before squarely facing the door.

I have to tell her. It isn’t right not to tell her.

If she found out that I knew about all this and didn’t tell her, then she’d never forgive me.

She’s my sister, and she deserves to know.

She’s my sister.

I really hope she doesn’t freak out about all this.

Ruby took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock upon the door.

“Miss Rose.”

The voice of Professor Ozpin was calm and quiet, but arresting all the same; it shattered the stillness that had prevailed in the corridor and made Ruby jump with surprise. She hadn’t heard the headmaster approach, yet here he was, that familiar white mug with the axes of Vale emblazoned upon it held lightly in one hand.

“Uh, Professor Ozpin,” Ruby said. “I… I didn’t hear you.”

“I suppose you had a lot on your mind, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Um… yeah,” Ruby murmured. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Professor Ozpin nodded gravely. “Would you mind coming with me? I think it’s high time for you and I to talk.”

Ruby glanced at the Team YRBN door. “Well…”

“Please, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Oh, okay,” Ruby said softly, understanding now that it wasn’t really a request. “Uh… lead the way, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Thank you, Miss Rose. This way please.”

He turned away, sipping his hot chocolate before he began to walk, moving down the corridor with a stride that was a little slow and a little unsure, as if he didn’t really know where he was going.

Ruby frowned a little. She had a feeling that she knew what Professor Ozpin wanted to talk to her about, but… oh, well. There wasn’t any getting around it, was there?

She cast one last glance at Yang’s door and told herself that she would tell Yang all about this as soon as she and the headmaster were done. And then she followed him.

Yang opened the door and stuck her head out of the corridor.

It was empty. And yet, she could have sworn that she’d heard someone – heard Ruby – outside.

“You guys heard that, right?” she asked, retreating back inside the dorm room.

Nora took off her headphones. “What was that? Did you say something, Yang?”

Yang shook her head, a smile playing across her face. “Okay, obviously you didn’t hear anything, but how about you, Ren?”

Ren looked up from his book. “It did sound like Ruby, and Blake.”

“I know, right?” Yang agreed. “That’s what I thought, but… they’re not here.”

“Perhaps they were simply passing by,” Ren suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yang muttered. “It seems like they’ve been ‘passing by’ all day.”

She sat down heavily on her bed.

“You’re worried?” Nora asked.

“Not worried,” Yang replied. “Just… I don’t know, I just… I don’t know.” There was a feeling squirming in her stomach, a feeling that she couldn’t name but which was making her uneasy nonetheless. “Do you ever think you’ve seen something in the corner of your eye, and then you look and it’s not there? But you’re sure that you saw something? Well, it’s like that. There’s something going on, and I can’t see it.” She flopped backwards, her long hair spreading out like a golden halo around her head. “Or maybe I’m just imagining things. I hope I’m just imagining things.”

Professor Ozpin led Ruby to the Viewing Gallery, a stone courtyard set upon the cliff-edge – there were wrought-iron safety rails – with wooden benches where anyone could look out past the cliffs over the city of Vale spread out before them. The Atlesian warships, like flying sharks, hovered overhead, while the towers of the city reached up for them like so many arms outstretched, beseeching assistance.

Professor Ozpin sat down and took another sip of his hot chocolate. “Hmm, this is getting a little cold,” he murmured, and proceeded to take a much longer drink before he set the mug down at his side. “Please, Miss Rose, sit.” He smiled. “I promise I don’t bite.”

Ruby sat down on the other side of the bench, her hands clasped together, squeezed between her knees. She didn’t look at the headmaster.

“Are you upset?” she murmured.

“'Upset'?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“About the fact that I was about to tell Yang?” Ruby suggested. There was no doubt in her mind that Professor Ozpin knew what she had been about to do, just like she didn’t doubt that he knew what Sunset and Pyrrha had told her. “Or about the fact that Sunset and Pyrrha told me and Jaune?”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “No, Miss Rose, I am not upset. Certainly not at Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos. The truth is that I rather hoped they would tell you and Mister Arc everything that they learned from me, and would have been rather disappointed if they had not.”

“Really?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin confirmed. “Glynda – Professor Goodwitch, I should say – tells me that I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.” He leaned a little closer to Ruby, and his voice dropped as he confessed, “Between you and me, I fear she may be right.”

Ruby snorted, a smile pricking at the corners of her mouth.

Professor Ozpin smiled too, warm and genial. “Miss Rose, does it strike you as odd that I should approach Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos, knowing that they would tell you and Mister Arc? Have you wondered why I chose your team, instead of going out to the best students in the academy?”

“Sunset would say that we are the best students in the academy.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Yes, I’ve no doubt she would, but we are not speaking of Miss Shimmer now; I want to hear what Ruby Rose thinks about this.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “It wasn’t just my mom, was it, Professor?”

“No,” Professor Ozpin admitted, his voice hoarse. “No, it was not. There was a time when all of Team Stark was at my disposal. Your father believed that his children deserved to have one parent at home with them; Raven Branwen… forsook the battle. Your uncle serves me still.”

“So you like to recruit teams,” Ruby said. “It’s not about how good the individual students are – although I guess they have to be okay – it’s about how well they work together as a team.”

“That is certainly a part of it, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin declared. “The truth is that my reasons for, as you put it, recruiting teams are much the same as my reasons for forming teams here at Beacon in the first place. Yes, the weaknesses can be compensated for by the synergy of the whole, but at the same time, the strength of the whole team can help to bear the kind of weight that would crush any single student. As I’m sure you understand by now, the burden that I have placed upon your shoulders – the burden of knowledge, the future burden of action – is a heavy one. If I must ask a child to bear it… I cannot ask them to do so without the support of those closest to them.” He paused for a moment. “I fear I place too much upon your uncle. He bears so many burdens, and alone.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t feel that way,” Ruby said. “Uncle Qrow can do anything; nothing gets to him.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. Not to that, at least. He said, “What I must ask of you, Miss Rose, may be difficult.”

“You don’t want me to tell Yang,” Ruby murmured. “Do you, Professor?”

“Very perceptive, Miss Rose.”

“But why not?” Ruby asked.

“Why do you think I might not wish it, Miss Rose?”

“We’re not in class now, Professor,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “But we are in school. Indulge an old teacher, if you will.”

Ruby considered it for a moment. Teams, she thought, were the key. “Because you don’t want the rest of Team Iron to know?” she suggested.

“That is one reason, yes,” Professor Ozpin allowed.

“Why not?” Ruby asked. “Why does all this have to be kept a secret?”

“Should I not?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Everyone already knows that this is a battle without end,” Ruby argued. “Fighting the grimm is something that won’t ever stop, and yet, here we are, ready to fight anyway. Nobody had turned away because of what we’re up against. Or, I mean, maybe some people have, but so many haven’t? What makes this any different?”

“Salemis different,” Professor Ozpin insisted. “Should I tell the world that there is a being of infinite malice, ageless, invincible, dwelling in the forgotten wilds beyond the kingdoms, plotting to bring ruin to us all? Should I tell the world that she will accept into her service all those who are discontented, all those who have hatred in their heart, all those who desire chaos and destruction for motives noble or foul? Think of Cinder Fall; I do not know how she found Salem or how Salem found her, but imagine how many other Cinders there might be in the world whom Salem has not found.”

“The White Fang,” Ruby murmured.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said. “It is unfortunate, but our world is far from perfect, and there are many dwelling in these kingdoms who are desirous of a great change and willing to go to great lengths to achieve it. I should not like to give them all a banner around which to rally, especially when I fear that the numbers of her followers should be further swelled by those who fear that she would emerge victorious and sought her protection accordingly. And… and there is another reason why I fear to cast the net of my trust too widely-”

“Yang isn’t like Raven,” Ruby insisted. “She can be trusted.”

Professor Ozpin sighed. “I will not pretend this will be easy, Miss Rose; I will not pretend that I do not ask something of you; but nevertheless, I ask you to keep my confidence.”

“The same way you asked Sunset and Pyrrha not to tell?” Ruby asked.

Professor Ozpin smiled wryly. “Too clever for my own good, indeed.”

“Yang isn’t like the people you’re afraid of,” Ruby said quietly.

“I am sure that she is not, having Taiyang for a father and you for a sister,” Professor Ozpin said. “But I think you’ll agree that Miss Xiao Long has quite a lot to carry on her shoulders already.

That was true; as much as Ruby didn’t like the conclusion, she couldn’t deny how Professor Ozpin had gotten there. Yang thought that Ruby didn’t notice the way that her smiles didn’t always reach her eyes, the way that she looked tired sometimes, how much finding out about Raven still hurt her after all these years. Maybe it wasn’t fair to give her more troubles to contend with. Maybe it was for the best to keep this a secret from her, just as it was for the best that Professor Ozpin and the others kept it a secret from the rest of the world.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “Okay, Professor, I… I won’t tell.”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Professor Ozpin said solemnly. “I… I appreciate that.” He was silent for a moment, looking out across Vale and at the ships that hung above it. “Rather an eyesore, aren’t they?”

“The towers?”

“The warships,” Professor Ozpin corrected her gently.

Ruby cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know,” she replied. “From an engineering perspective, they’re really impressive.” She glanced at the headmaster. “You don’t like them?”

“They are symbols of war,” Professor Ozpin said, as though that explained his dislike. Ruby guessed that it did, as far as he was concerned. “Do you know, Miss Rose, that I have never known this kingdom at peace?”

“Because of Salem?”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “We have been at war since before this old body of mine was born. And yet, I have been able to look out across this beautiful view and pretend that we were living in the era of peace that is spoken of so much and enjoyed by so many. I cannot pretend any more. And yet… I wish I could.” He looked at her. “Do you understand?”

“That I’ll wish that I didn’t know all the things I do?” Ruby guessed.

“I fear so, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. He paused. “Forgive me, I should not discourage you, certainly not when you have been so generous and so understanding. Especially not when I have not even asked you how you feel about all that you have so recently discovered.”

“I’m fine,” Ruby said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“No?” Professor Ozpin asked, one eyebrow rising.

Ruby shook her head. “Like I said, I came here knowing that it would never end, so what real difference does it make?”

“You have a very brave heart, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “Just like your mother.”

Ruby felt her cheeks flush with pride, but at the same time, she looked away from the headmaster, feeling… embarrassed? No, she wasn’t embarrassed; she was just plain old nervous. Now that the subject had led in this direction, she felt as though the gate had opened before her, and yet, she trembled at the thought of stepping through it. She had so many questions, she hardly knew where to start. And yet, if she said nothing, then… then Professor Ozpin would get up or send her away, and she would miss a chance that might never come again.

“What was she like?” she asked, the words bursting quickly from her mouth, fear making her spit them out before she could think better of it or before this golden moment slipped away. “I… I don’t remember her very well. I barely remember anything. And Dad doesn’t talk about her because… because it still makes him too sad.” Ruby blinked. “Yang and Uncle Qrow tell me stories, or they used to, but I don’t know how much they made up to make me feel better.” She blinked again and realised that her eyes were filling up with tears. “I just want to know…”

She felt something pressed into her hands, an emerald green pocket handkerchief. Ruby looked up to see Professor Ozpin kneeling before her now, looking almost as though he might weep himself, his dark eyes seeming clouded with sorrow.

“Summer Rose,” he began, but then paused. “Very well, I will tell you the truth. Summer Rose was not the strongest huntress to study at Beacon. She was not even the strongest in her year, nor the cleverest, nor the swiftest. But she was the bravest and, in my opinion, the best. In all my years, I have met few others who were as driven as she was, as committed to the fight, as determined to help others in need as your mother. As headmaster, I try not to play favourites, but… but I consider it a privilege that I had the chance to know her.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “I suppose that sounds like nothing more than another comforting lie, such as your uncle or your sister might tell.”

“A little bit,” Ruby murmured.

Professor Ozpin nodded. “You must forgive us, Miss Rose; it is very hard to speak ill of the dead, especially when you loved them so. To speak of Summer’s flaws… would feel like a betrayal of her memory. If you wish for a candid opinion and account of her time, I suggest you ask Professor Goodwitch.”

“Because she doesn’t mind speaking ill of the dead?” Ruby asked, a little surprised.

“Professor Goodwitch has no fear speaking ill of anyone,” Professor Ozpin informed her.

Ruby sniggered as she wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. She offered it back to him, but Professor Ozpin waved it away.

“Keep it,” he told her. “I insist.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said softly. “Professor…”

Professor Ozpin rose to his feet. “Yes, Miss Rose?”

“I… I found my mom’s old diary,” Ruby confessed. “From when she was here.”

Professor Ozpin was still. “I see,” he murmured. “I take it that Miss Shimmer acquired it at the same time as she was busy pilfering Mister Arc’s transcripts.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

“I like to let my students get on with things absent too much interference,” Professor Ozpin said to her. “It helps me learn what kind of people they are.”

Ruby let out a sort of gasping laugh. “Can I ask… how did you get the diary?”

“Your mother gave it to me before she left on her final mission,” Professor Ozpin said. “She was afraid that, if it was left in your home, you might find out certain information before you were ready.”

“About Salem?” Ruby asked. “Or about silver eyes? I have that power too, don’t I?”

“The eyes do not lie,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice heavy with melancholy. “If you did not have the power, you would not have the eyes.”

“Can you help me use it?” Ruby asked. “Can you teach me how, like you taught Mom?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “When you return from Mountain Glenn, Miss Rose, we will speak of your magic. You have my word. But now, I fear that I must be going. I have much other business to attend to before the day is out, and you have a mission to prepare for. Good day, Miss Rose.” He began to walk, with firmer and longer strides than he had used before, away from her and in the direction of the Emerald Tower.

“P-Professor?” Ruby called after him.

Professor Ozpin turned to face her, silently.

“Sunset… Sunset doesn’t trust you,” Ruby told him.

Professor Ozpin didn’t look in the slightest bit surprised. “And she is absolutely right not to, Miss Rose,” he said.

Ciel came to attention, eyes fixed on a point just above General Ironwood’s head, looking out the window in his office. “Ciel Soleil reporting as ordered, sir,” she said, her voice firm and calm and neither too loud nor too quiet. By her outer appearance and deportment, one would never know that she had recently received some incredibly shocking news.

Unfortunately, she suspected that General Ironwood knew anyway.

She did not look at him. She was not sure that… she would not be so melodramatic as to say ‘I cannot look at you’ like a character in some tawdry soap opera, but at the same time, if she were to look at him, what would she see? Not whom she had seen yesterday, unfortunately.

Yesterday, he had been the tower of their strength, the captain of their courage and constancy. Now… now, that was a mask that he wore to deceive the world.

You’re being rather ridiculous. He is still the man he was yesterday; you simply know more of him. Did you think you knew his every dimension, every facet?

Yes. Yes, she had thought that. She had flattered herself to think that. It had pleased her to believe that she was in his confidence, trusted by him with a mission he could entrust to few others.

Now, she discovered that it had not been so.

“At ease, Soleil,” General Ironwood instructed her, and Ciel did as she was bidden, standing at ease with a thump of her foot upon the deck as she clasped her hands behind her back.

She was not looking at the General, but she could feel his eyes upon her nevertheless.

“So,” General Ironwood said, “what do you think about all this?”

So I was right. Nevertheless, Ciel hesitated to drop Rainbow Dash and Twilight in it so completely. “I am uncertain as to what the General is referring.”

“Soleil,” General Ironwood said, a slight degree of exasperation entering his voice. “I know you know. You know I know you know. Dash and Twilight aren’t in any trouble for telling you. So drop it. And speak freely; I want to know what you really think.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. Speak freely? In order for her to speak she would first need to have her thoughts in order. “Sir… as you wish, sir, I shall speak freely.” She paused. “An argument could be made that your actions… that you have abused this army, sir.”

“Dramatic opening shot,” General Ironwood said softly.

“We are not mere huntsmen and huntresses, sir,” Ciel declared. “We are not a militia under your personal control, we are not some warlord’s warband, we are the embodiment of Atlas at war-”

“And you don’t think that Atlas is at war with Salem?” General Ironwood asked.

“I think that is for the elected Council to determine, sir, not the headmaster of Beacon Academy,” Ciel said in a tone as chill as the northern winter. “May I ask, sir, how many of your predecessors have been a party to this arrangement?”

“All of them,” General Ironwood said. “Somehow, I doubt that makes you feel better.”

“No, sir, it does not,” Ciel replied. “All our defences, all our strategies, everything is predicated upon the notion that the grimm are a mindless rabble, driven only by base instincts; now, I find that it is not so? It is… inefficient,” she said. “And more than inefficient, it is dangerous. How many men have died because they did not know what they were really fighting?”

“Too many,” General Ironwood admitted. “Fewer than might have died if the truth had come out.”

“You cannot know that, sir,” Ciel insisted.

“No,” General Ironwood replied candidly. “No, I can’t. But what we know suggests that there was a time when everything was a lot more widely known than it is now. The sources don’t paint a very pretty picture of that time.”

“Sources, sir?” Ciel asked. “Do you mean legends? Myths?”

“Some,” General Ironwood confirmed. “And some that are more prosaic, even if that doesn’t actually make them more trustworthy.”

“Is preventing the spread of panic really so vital that we will spend lives for it?”

“Sometimes, the grimm really are just mindless beasts driven by base instincts,” General Ironwood reminded her. “And they would be drawn to the panic that would ensue if all of this were to come out. We can debate whether or not it was the right decision at the time, but now… if it were to be revealed that these secrets had been kept from governments, from the public… chaos would ensue. Chaos that Salem would use to her advantage. Along with every other enemy that we have to contend with.”

“Nevertheless, sir, I feel as though soldiers being sent to fight and risk their lives have a right to know what they are fighting and in what cause.”

“Every man knows what cause they are fighting for,” General Ironwood declared. “They’re fighting for life, for Atlas, for humanity itself. For the pride of their ship and their unit. None of that has changed.”

“I beg to differ, sir,” Ciel said. “When we operated against Roman Torchwick and the White Fang, we also operated against Salem and we knew it not.”

“Would you have done anything differently if you had known?” General Ironwood asked.

Ciel glanced away for a moment. When her voice came, it was afflicted with a degree of chagrin. “No, sir.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “For what it might be worth, I’m not blind to your concerns. I may even have voiced similar ones myself when I found out about this. The ethics of my position as an officer are… murky, I confess. I think that’s one of the reasons why Oz doesn’t like using Atlesian specialists as agents; the divided loyalties make him uncomfortable. He prefers… mere huntsmen and huntresses.”

“I would ask why he has broken a custom with us, sir, but the more pertinent question would seem to be why he has included you and your predecessors within the circle of trust.”

“I’m afraid that I can’t give you all the information needed to answer that question, Soleil,” General Ironwood replied. “Suffice it to say that, from the founding of the four academies, it has been a custom that all four of their headmasters should have knowledge of the secret war that rages in the shadows of the world.”

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Sir… how do you serve two masters? How should we?”

“It’s a fine line,” General Ironwood admitted. “One that I am forced to navigate with care. I hope that my word still counts with enough that you’ll believe me when I tell you that I have never deployed any of my forces on… Salem business unless they knew about it.”

“The fleet, sir?” Ciel asked, looking at elements of said fleet out of the window.

“Salem or no Salem, the threat of the White Fang is what brought those ships and men here,” General Ironwood said. “Against Ozpin’s wishes, I might add. The same goes for your own mission against the White Fang.”

“That seems a rather semantic argument, sir.”

“Sometimes, semantics are all I have to maintain the wall between my different duties,” General Ironwood confessed. “I didn’t say it was always easy.”

“I see, sir,” Ciel said softly.

“If this is going to be too hard for you, Soleil, then say so now,” General Ironwood told her. “Nobody will fault you if you walk away. You wouldn’t be the first to respectfully decline.”

“And sit out missions related to Salem business?” Ciel asked. “No, sir. I have my misgivings, I admit, but having voiced them, I will, like a good soldier, put them aside. I will not have it said that I was afraid but that I hid my fear behind legalese and questions of conscience.”

General Ironwood nodded. “Putting aside all questions of conscience, what do you think about what you’ve found out?”

“'And I looked out and saw the invisible world, companion to the world which we perceive, with its rocks and moon and brute animals,'” Ciel quoted. “I feel as though the Lady has opened my eyes, and for that… the gift of knowledge is never to be scorned. Only the foolish and the weak wish for ignorance.” She paused. “It is a pity we cannot overcome our foe with strength of arms, sir, but since it seems that this being considers it beneath her dignity to venture forth upon the field of battle, it appears that our strength is capable of denying victory to her catspaws.”

“True,” General Ironwood acknowledged. “And that’s enough.”

“It will suffice, sir,” Ciel said. “Although…”

General Ironwood leaned forward. “Although what, Soleil?”

“It may have been so in the past, that she was immune to the weapons that we possess,” Ciel said. “It may even be so now. It does not follow it will always be so. Science and technology are advancing all the time, especially in Atlas. What was once invulnerable may not be so forever.”

General Ironwood smiled. “Very true, Soleil. That may not do us much good, but those who come after us may benefit, and that itself is a comforting thought. I’m glad to have you onboard, Soleil.”

“I am not certain that I can say the same, sir, but I am… I am honoured by your trust.”

“At last, you mean?”

Ciel hesitated. “I am aware of the irony that I only realise that I did not enjoy your complete confidence because I have come to enjoy a much greater degree of it, but…”

“I trust you with this knowledge – I trust you to act based on this knowledge – for the same reasons that I trusted you with Penny,” General Ironwood declared. “Because your intelligence – your devotion to duty – make you not only a model student but also an exemplary soldier of Atlas. And, quite frankly, we need someone with qualms of conscience about this, someone to ask if this is the right thing to do instead of just blindly doing it. Did it take a lot of guts to accuse me of abusing the military?”

“…some, sir.”

“But you said it anyway,” General Ironwood said, a touch of pride entering his voice. “And that’s why you’re here.”

“I… thank you, sir.”

“One last thing,” General Ironwood asked. “How did Penny take all of this?”

Ciel considered that for a moment. “Not particularly well, sir,” she said, as diplomatically as possible.

“I see,” General Ironwood. “I suppose I’ll find out for myself soon enough. Send her in on your way out.”

Penny slouched into General Ironwood’s office, head bowed, arms hanging uselessly down by her sides.

Useless… like she felt at the moment.

She didn’t look up. She didn’t look at General Ironwood; she certainly didn’t smile. He had lied to her. They had all lied to her, whether they meant to or not.

Worse, Penny thought that they were probably going to keep lying to her, and mean it too, and it wouldn’t bother them at all.

Because they weren’t her friends. They were her minders; they spent time with her because they were ordered to, and maybe they cared about her a little bit, but they would lie to her if they were ordered to, just like they would have dragged her back to Atlas if they were ordered to, because any feelings that they had for her would always come second to their duty, or their real friends, or just what General Ironwood wanted.

Her real friends, the ones she’d made at Beacon, were the only people she could really trust.

Ruby would never lie to her, no matter who told her to, not even if Sunset Shimmer ordered it.

Everything that she had thought she’d known about why she’d been created was a lie.

She didn’t even know why they’d bothered to make her in the first place.

“Penny,” General Ironwood said.

“General,” Penny replied sullenly.

“I see you’ve mastered acting like a surly teenager,” General Ironwood replied amusedly. “You become more human every day.”

“It’s not funny!” Penny snapped, raising her head to glare at him. Or try to glare at him; she’d never really tried to glare before and probably wasn’t very good at it. “How could you? You lied to me!”

“How?” General Ironwood asked.

“'How'?” Penny repeated.

“How did I lie to you?” General Ironwood clarified.

“You’ve been lying to everyone!” Penny cried. “But most of all, you lied to me because you told me that I could save the world! You told me that was what I was created for! You made me think…” She trailed off.

General Ironwood looked at her, silent, waiting.

Penny looked down at the floor. She could still see the dent she’d made the last time she was here. “You made me think I was special.”

“You are special, Penny,” General Ironwood told her. “The unique circumstances of your creation make you a marvel of science. Nobody else would be able to control Floating Array the way that you can, and in time, you’ll be able to do so much more than that: operate a whole squadron or more of drones remotely, direct paladins, deploy even more powerful weapons than you currently have access to. Some day, you might even be able to protect a whole city by yourself. So what I told you was true, from a certain point of view.”

“A certain point of view?” Penny demanded. “That’s not what I thought you meant!”

“What did you think I meant, Penny?”

“I thought that I was going to hunt down every last grimm,” Penny said. “And destroy them.”

“Nobody expects that of you, Penny, not even your father,” General Ironwood replied. He got up. “Perhaps… we did raise your hopes too far, or put too great an expectation on your shoulders, depending on your point of view. I suppose that ‘save the world’ was… a figure of speech, somewhat. I should have known better than to speak so carelessly in front of you.”

“Why did you make me?” Penny asked, her voice small and childlike. “If you knew that I could never defeat Salem-”

“If Professor Ozpin is to be believed, then nobody can beat Salem, and yet, the four academies continue to admit students into their halls as they have always done, despite the fact that none of them could ever defeat Salem,” General Ironwood reminded her. He walked around the desk, coming closer to her, close enough to put his hand upon her shoulder. “I truly believe that you will do great service to Atlas, and to Remnant, service perhaps worthy to be called a saviour of the world.” He smiled fondly. “And who knows, perhaps you will find a way to defeat Salem, and defy Professor Ozpin and his expectations.”

Penny blinked. “But I thought there was no way to defeat her. Everyone said she was invincible!”

“She appears that way,” General Ironwood conceded. “But Penny, you know that you will live longer than any of us.” He retreated back to his desk, although not behind it; rather he stood in front of it and looked down at Penny. “Your body will not decay as ours will, weaken with the passage of years, succumb to age or illness. I’m more machine than man now, but I won’t be here forever; there will come a time when Dash and Ciel are too old to carry on the fight, and a time after that when they’re both dead and gone, but you’ll still be here. Barring accidents, and provided that the facility exists for the maintenance and replacement of your component parts, I don’t think it’s any exaggeration to say that you’ll live forever, and the purpose of your training is to ensure that you don’t suffer any accidents. You won’t have to be told about Salem; you won’t have to be brought into the circle and suffer the shock with each generation-”

“I’ll be all alone,” Penny murmured.

She hadn’t ever thought about it like that before, but now that General Ironwood had said it… she would just keep going, wouldn’t she? Everyone around her would die, but she’d just keep going. Ruby and Pyrrha and all the rest would disappear while she kept marching on. Maybe she’d make new friends, but then, they’d die too, and she’d have to make whole new ones. She might not have to learn about Salem every generation, but she’d have to keep on making new friends, forging new bonds, finding new people she could trust and open up her heart too, until maybe there would come a point when she didn’t want to anymore, when she feared the pain of loss too much to want the joy of friendship.

General Ironwood frowned. “I’m sorry, Penny,” he said. “That was… I didn’t think about it that way. What I was trying to say was that, with the advantage of longevity, you might find a way to defeat her that no one else has thought of yet, or be around for the development of technology and weapons that can finally finish her. I meant that to give you hope, but now, I’m not sure how much that really helps.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” Penny said. “I suppose… I suppose I didn’t want to think about it before.”

“You’re still very young to think about how you might live forever,” General Ironwood told her.

“How does she stand it?” Penny asked.

“Who?”

“Salem,” Penny explained. “If she’s immortal, then… then she must have lost everyone that she’s ever known, too!”

“I doubt that she cares,” General Ironwood said. “She’s a monster bent on our destruction. I doubt she ever had many friends,” he added, as though he were trying to joke.

“That’s pretty awful too,” Penny said. “I wonder if she gets lonely.”

“Maybe one day you can ask her, before you put her out of her misery,” General Ironwood muttered. “Penny, regardless of whether you think I’ve lied to you in the past, I’ll be honest with you now: we could really use your help in this fight. Your power, your potential, the advantages of your unique nature, they could all be an enormous boon in the fight for humanity. But in this matter, I’m not your headmaster or your commanding officer. I can’t order you to take this step. You have to take it for yourself.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “No one will ever know what I’ve done, will they?” she asked. “Even if I save the world from Salem, nobody will ever know that I did it.”

“No one,” General Ironwood confirmed. “It will be the greatest deed in the history of Remnant, and it will pass unnoticed and unremembered.”

Penny nodded absently. It was kind of funny, after wanting to do something great and important that would get her noticed, it seemed like she was being given the choice of one or the other.

“But Ruby and the others will know if I don’t do this,” she murmured.

“Are you doing this because you’d be ashamed not to?” General Ironwood said.

“Why not?” Penny asked. “Isn’t that as good a reason as any?” After all, most people might not know if she did anything amazing in this fight, but a few people – a few people whose opinion mattered to her a lot – would definitely know if she turned away from the fight.

Her friends would die before she did. Sooner or later, they would leave her behind. But until then, she would keep marching right beside them, for as long as she could.

Jaune was about to leave the empty classroom when he found the doorway barred by the headmaster.

“Professor Ozpin!” Jaune cried, recoiling a step backwards. “I was just, uh-”

“The classroom appears to be intact, so as long as you weren’t stealing the answers for end of year exams, I don’t think I need to know what you were doing here, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin declared genially, as he stepped into the room. “I am glad to find you here, however; I was hoping that we might talk.”

“'Talk'?” Jaune asked, taking another step back away from the headmaster. “Talk about what, Professor?”

“Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin declared reproachfully, “I chose Team Sapphire in no small part because of the close bonds which I have observed amongst the four of you.”

Jaune hesitated. “You know we know, don’t you?”

Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. “Indeed, Mister Arc,” he replied. The smile fell. “At this point, I should like to dazzle you with a pretence of omniscience, but recent events have rather shown the hollowness of that, haven’t they?” He walked to Doctor Oobleck’s desk and sat down upon it, pushing a few scattered papers out of the way in order to make space for himself. A sigh escaped him. “She was able to place her agent within the school itself. Under my very nose. How foolish she must think me. How foolish I have been.”

Jaune didn’t say anything. If Professor Ozpin was looking for comfort, then he wasn’t sure that he had any to offer. Nothing of what Professor Ozpin had said was false: Cinder had gotten in, under his very nose. If that was a mistake, then, well, it was Professor Ozpin’s mistake, although it was also a lot of other people’s mistakes as well. Not least Sunset. That gave him something to say.

“A lot of people besides you were taken in by Cinder, Professor.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Please, Mister Arc, sit down.”

Jaune hesitated, but decided that if he wanted to, the Professor could just order him to stick around, and so he matched Professor Ozpin’s choice of seat by perching himself on one of the desks of the front row of the gallery. It made him feel a little less like he was getting a lecture than if he’d taken one of the actual chairs.

“I spoke to Professor Lionheart,” Professor Ozpin said. “He claimed ignorance of Miss Fall’s true nature. He claimed that he had seized upon her eagerly as a talented huntress who would restore Haven’s reputation by a bravura performance in the Vytal Festival.”

“Do you believe him, Professor?” Jaune asked.

“Professor Lionheart is a trusted friend and colleague,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I have worked alongside him for many years, and he is fully aware of what Salem is capable of.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not quite a ‘yes,’ Professor,” he said.

“No, Mister Arc, it is not,” Professor Ozpin said, with no indication that he was going to say anything else upon that particular subject. Instead, he asked, “What was your opinion of Cinder Fall?”

Jaune took a moment to think about that. “I… I didn’t like her,” he said. “I didn’t trust her.”

“Why not?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Jaune shrugged. “Something about her, she was just… she was so smug, you know? Like she knew something you didn’t.” He paused. “I didn’t like the way Sunset acted around her.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. He waited, and Jaune realised that he was waiting for Jaune to continue.

He frowned. “I don’t know how much I should say,” he began.

“If you are worried about getting Miss Shimmer into trouble, nothing that you say here will leave this room or have any ramifications,” Professor Ozpin assured him. “And besides, I think I can guess what you are going to mention.”

“I don’t think Sunset would have done it if Cinder wasn’t around,” Jaune said. “If she’d talked to Pyrrha, or to Ruby, then they would have told her to let it go, to be better than that, but Cinder… it was like she enabled all of the worst parts of Sunset, made Sunset bad just by being around her. I’m not saying that Sunset wasn’t at fault for what she did, but Cinder was definitely a bad influence.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Miss Shimmer didn’t mention Miss Fall at all when she confessed her actions to me.”

“She wouldn’t,” Jaune replied. “First, because she has too much pride to admit that someone else had anything to do with what she said, and secondly, because she wouldn’t drop a friend into trouble like that. Unlike me, apparently.”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of in your honesty, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said. “We are not dealing with mere – if I may be permitted to use the word – issues of school rules and detentions any more. I need to know everything that I can.”

“Do you still trust Sunset?” Jaune asked. “After what I’ve just told you?”

“I don’t completely trust any of you yet, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said. “And I am still not sure if I ever will.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “I see.”

“But don’t let that trouble you, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said genially. “I’m sure you can appreciate that, in my position, I have good reasons to withhold my trust.”

“You don’t seem to, Professor,” Jaune pointed out. “You seem to trust everyone. Believe in everyone. But I guess that’s just an act, like Cinder’s friendliness.”

“Are you so sure of that, Mister Arc?” Professor Ozpin asked. “So sure that Miss Fall was feigning her behaviour here?”

“Wasn’t she?” Jaune replied. “I mean, she was working for someone trying to destroy the world!”

“And yet, she is still human,” Professor Ozpin pointed out. “Subject to human emotions, human frailties, human wants and needs, not least of which is the desire for the company of other humans. We fight monsters, Mister Arc, but unfortunately, we do not exclusively fight monsters. Things might be far easier if it were so.”

“Yeah,” Jaune whispered, remembering the White Fang guy he had killed on the train. “Yeah, that would definitely be a lot easier.”

Professor Ozpin watched him for a moment. “How are you taking it, Mister Arc?”

Jaune did not immediately reply. “What do you want me to say, Professor? Do you want me to say that I’m fine, that it’s all good, that it doesn’t make any difference to me?”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Professor Ozpin said softly.

“The truth is that I’m not Ruby,” Jaune declared. “I’m not Pyrrha. I don’t… I’m not the person who gives up everything for the good of humanity. I’m not the person who can face any danger knowing that they’re helping others. I… I’m scared, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply. He merely watched and waited.

“Professor Ozpin,” Jaune murmured. “Did you know my father?”

Professor Ozpin said, “I will not claim that we had a relationship closer than that between headmaster and pupil, which is to say that we rarely interacted, but I recall Gold Arc, yes.”

“Was he any good?” Jaune asked.

If Professor Ozpin was at all curious as to the relevance of this, he did not show it. He answered Jaune’s question, “He was tolerable, to be sure, a fair huntsman. In comparative terms, I would put him-”

“Was he better than me?”

Professor Ozpin thought on that for a moment. “He did not have your semblance or the benefit of Miss Nikos’ tuition, but… yes, Mister Arc, I would say that he was.”

“And yet you didn’t invite him to join your secret group, did you?”

“No, Mister Arc, I did not.”

“And you wouldn’t have invited me either,” Jaune said. “I just… come with the package.” He smiled wanly. “You don’t have to lie to me, Professor; you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It is true that I would not have sought out your services, had you been on a different team,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But there is no shame in that. I have not sought out Miss Xiao Long or Miss Schnee, but that is no slight upon their talents.” He was quiet for a moment. “No one is forced to take this step, Mister Arc.”

“I am,” Jaune declared. “Because I may not be Ruby, and I may not be Pyrrha, and I may not even be Sunset to put it all out on the line out of sheer pride and the need to live up to my own grandiose self-image, but I am Jaune Arc!” He held up his hand and activated his semblance for the moment, letting the golden glow engulf said hand, shimmering like water over his skin. “I’m the one who makes them stronger. I’m the one who is there for them, if they need me. That’s who I am. And if I die in Mountain Glenn, that’s who I’ll die as, and that… I can imagine a lot worse.”

“Is that what you fear?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Death?”

Jaune shook his head. “Like I said, Professor, I can imagine worse,” he paused. “I’m afraid that I won’t die if…”

“If they do?” Professor Ozpin whispered.

Jaune nodded mutely.

Professor Ozpin said nothing. He offered Jaune no comfort. Perhaps he had none to give. Or perhaps he sensed that Jaune wasn’t done yet.

“I asked Pyrrha for a promise today,” Jaune said. “I asked her to promise that she wouldn’t send me away because that… that terrifies me, the idea that she’ll leave me behind and run into some desperate battle because she thinks that I can’t handle it, that I’m too weak to keep up, that I can’t help her. That it’s all too dangerous for me. I asked her to promise that she wouldn’t do that because… because I don’t want the last time I see her to be her back as she leaves to fight the battles that I can’t. Like I said, it terrifies me. But at the same time… at the same time, the thought of Pyrrha dying to protect me, it… it’s like the rock and the hard place, you know?”

“It is a terrible thing to love,” Professor Ozpin mused. “It leaves us vulnerable to so much pain, so much fear, so much… weakness. And yet, it is also the most wonderful thing for which the gods have fashioned us, for it makes us capable of such things as we would never otherwise have contemplated. Like vowing to do battle against the mistress of the grimm, oppose her designs and confound her schemes, all for the sake of those we cherish.” He smiled. “Take comfort, Mister Arc; true courage can only come from a fearful heart. It takes more valour to walk into darkness with a timid step, knowing that the path ahead is full of deadly perils, fully conscious of your own limitations, than to stride forth full of confidence in your own skill and power, believing that there is nothing that can harm you… or not caring if it does.”

“Professor?”

“Nothing, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said quickly. “You are resolved, then?”

“I… I guess I am, yeah.”

Professor Ozpin nodded, and got to his feet. “You are correct to say that in another lifetime, I might not have chosen you, Mister Arc,” he said, “but I am open, welcome even, to the possibility that my other self might have been completely mistaken.”

“Thank you for coming, Twilight,” General Ironwood said as she walked into his office.

Twilight smiled. “Did I have a choice, sir?” she asked, but her tone showed there was no malice in the question. She looked at him square in the face; in spite of what she had learned today, he was still the same man that she had known since she was a little girl: her father’s old friend, the frequent dinner guest, Rainbow’s mentor, Penny’s sponsor, he was still all those things. He was just more than that now. More than she could have imagined.

General Ironwood smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“About last night or about this morning?” Twilight asked.

“Whichever you’d rather start with,” General Ironwood replied.

“There’s more to talk about with the second one,” Twilight said. “Last night… it just confirms that I don’t really belong here.”

General Ironwood looked down at his desk. “I shouldn’t have taken this approach,” he murmured. “I’ve put you in danger more than once.”

“It’s not your fault, sir,” Twilight said. “You didn’t know how bad things were going to get.”

“I should have pulled you out at the end of last semester when it became clear the White Fang were on the rampage,” General Ironwood said.

“And how would you have explained that?” Twilight asked. “And what about Penny entering the Vytal Festival? No, sir, all I’m saying is that there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m making the right choice by not going to Mountain Glenn; I never meant to criticise you for your decisions.”

General Ironwood nodded. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right decision. I think that your plan to support from the rear is a sound one.”

“Thank you, sir, although the more I think about it, the more it feels a little rough on Team Tsunami that they have to spend their mission slot babysitting me.”

“They’re also providing a necessary reserve for a crucial mission,” General Ironwood pointed out. “Tell them that, if it makes them feel any better. And don’t tell them anything else,” he added pointedly. “Telling Ciel and Penny was fine, but nothing further. Operational security applies beyond that point, understood?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll just tell them that we’re after the White Fang. Which we are, so it isn’t even really lying, is it?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “I would like to believe that’s true,” he murmured. “So, how are you feeling about all this?”

“How are you feeling about it all, sir?” Twilight asked. “You’re the one who's had to live with it for… years?”

“Years, yes,” General Ironwood confirmed. “Years to make my peace with it.”

“How do you make peace with something like this, sir?” Twilight asked. “It seems like the kind of thing that keeps coming up over and over again.”

“Nevertheless, if I couldn’t learn to live with it, I couldn’t continue to carry out my duties,” General Ironwood said. “Fortunately, most of the time, it doesn’t come up. It’s not like I have to lie or even dissemble every day.”

“But you’re always carrying around the secret, right?” Twilight asked. “You never get to put it down or put it away?” She pushed her glasses back up her nose. “That’s… that’s what worries me,” she said. “That wherever I go, whatever I do, I’ll always have this secret, this huge thing that I know, but which most of my friends don’t. This thing that I can’t ever share with them.”

“It’s for the best that they don’t know,” General Ironwood said.

“Is it?” Twilight asked. “I mean… I understand why, sir, and you’re probably right. If people found out about the relics, then they’d want them, and if people found out about Salem, then they might freak out, but… it feels very controlling, deciding what information people can and can’t handle. Sorry, sir, I’m rambling.”

“No, Twilight, you’re telling me how you feel,” General Ironwood said. “As for your point… maybe you’re right. Maybe it is paternalistic on our parts, but that doesn’t make it wrong or even a negative. Parents have power over their children for a reason; parents don’t tell their children everything for a reason.”

“But we aren’t talking about children, sir; we’re talking about adults,” Twilight pointed out.

“Adults who would have as little idea what to do with the power of one of the relics as a child would know how to safely use a gun if you gave them one,” General Ironwood replied.

“But you know what to do with them, sir?” Twilight said.

“No,” General Ironwood replied. “I’ve never even seen any of the four relics, let alone used it.”

Twilight frowned. “Has anyone?”

“Alive?” General Ironwood asked. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Then how do you know they really exist?” Twilight asked. “I mean, the legends, yes, but how do you know that they’re really relics from the gods?”

“Because there wouldn’t be much point in establishing and maintaining a secret society to protect items that didn’t really exist, would there?” General Ironwood replied. “Because I know the location of one of the relics, even though I haven’t seen the item itself. And I suppose I have a little faith. People that I trusted passed these truths to me.”

“I’m sorry, sir; I didn’t mean to suggest-”

“It’s fine,” General Ironwood said, waving one hand. “It’s a fair question, in the circumstances. Any others?”

Twilight thought for a moment. “Does my father know about this? He was your XO, and-”

“No,” General Ironwood answered her. “No, it doesn’t work like that. Your father was never chosen by Professor Ozpin. Ultimately, all decisions about who finds out what rest with him.”

“Why is that, sir?” Twilight asked. “Why is he the one in charge? Is it just age?”

“The means by which the leadership of the group is decided are… complicated,” General Ironwood said. “Suffice it to say for now that the Headmaster of Beacon enjoys a degree of seniority by virtue of their position.”

That didn’t really answer much; it just shifted the question from ‘why Professor Ozpin’ to ‘why Beacon?’ Atlas didn’t usually place its forces under the command of outsiders. “Does anyone else know, sir?”

“It’s a very small organisation, and somewhat compartmentalised,” General Ironwood informed her. “For example, beyond Headmaster Theodore in Shade, I’m not aware of who in Vacuo might be aware of these truths.”

“So… there aren’t any regular club meetings,” Twilight said.

“No, Twilight, nothing like that,” General Ironwood said, a touch of amusement entering his voice. “And considering some of the people who’d be there, that’s probably a good thing,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Twilight. He paused. “Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, and myself, you already know. Headmaster Theodore of Shade and Headmaster Lionheart of Haven are also included, as the four headmasters always are.”

“Even though Headmaster Lionheart let Cinder into his school,” Twilight noted.

“Hmm,” General Ironwood murmured. “I have a job for you, Twilight, if you’re up for it. Not something for today – right now I want you to focus on preparations for tomorrow’s mission – but once that’s all wrapped up, I’d like you to try and dig into Lionheart’s financial records, see if he’s come into any money recently.”

Twilight frowned. “You think that Salem paid him to let Cinder into his school?”

“If he did sell us out, I’d rather he did it for money than because he believes in Salem’s cause,” General Ironwood said. “It might be nothing; it might be that he didn’t sell us out, and he’s just…”

“Hideously incompetent?” Twilight suggested.

“Mhmm,” General Ironwood muttered. “Not a great improvement, but we’ll take what we can get, I suppose.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna are both aware.”

“Really?” Twilight gasped. “The Principal and the Vice Principal know all about… all of this?”

General Ironwood noted.

“Huh,” Twilight muttered. “I guess it isn’t very onerous for some people, is it?” It didn’t seem to have affected their work at Canterlot at all.

“That’s how this works, Twilight,” General Ironwood told her. “Most of the time, you just live your life, work as normal. It’s only occasionally that you’ll be asked to do a little more than that.”

“I see, sir,” Twilight said. “Sir, can I ask one more question? You… you know about my accident, when I was a child? You know what I saw.”

General Ironwood nodded. “You’ve told me.”

“Everyone says that I had a concussion, that I imagined it, but I didn’t,” Twilight insisted. “I’m sure I didn’t. Do you know anything about that, sir? Anything at all? I mean, if magic exists, then-”

“I don’t know,” General Ironwood said, cutting her off. “Maybe you’re right; maybe if the relics exist, then there are… other powers, besides. But I don’t know what they are, and I certainly can’t say what happened to you on the road that day.”

It was the first time in the conversation that Twilight had the impression that General Ironwood was lying to her. Maybe it was not so; maybe he was simply being lied to by Professor Ozpin – who probably knew something, given the similarity of the woman described in Ruby’s mother’s diary to the woman that Twilight remembered, at least in terms of what they could do – but Twilight had the sneaking, somewhat sinking, suspicion that that was not the case.

General Ironwood knew something, and he was lying to her about it.

She would just have to trust that he was lying to her for a good reason.

Pyrrha’s steps were slow as she walked into Professor Ozpin’s office, her light steps forming a counterpoint to the dull grinding of the gears above her. She stepped through the shifting shadows towards the headmaster’s desk, behind which Professor Ozpin sat, pouring himself a cup of chocolate from a white enamel teapot.

“May I offer you a cup, Miss Nikos?” he asked, as she drew near.

“No, thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, glancing at the chessboard which was sitting at the edge of the desk. It was half-set for a game, although some of the pieces were still in the box and not on the board. “Are you expecting to play later?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said. “My opponent will be arriving shortly after we’re finished.”

“I’ll try not to take up too much of your time then, Professor.”

“Not what I meant at all, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied apologetically. “Please, take a seat.”

Pyrrha sat down, back straight, fingertips resting lightly upon her knees. She looked Professor Ozpin in the eyes. Headmaster. Commander. Knowledge broker. Defender of the world in ways that she had not conceived of.

So much more than what he seemed, in every sense.

Professor Ozpin took a sip from his mug. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I suppose it must be rather inconvenient that I keep dragging you up here. This is… the third time today?”

“It’s fine, Professor,” Pyrrha assured him. “Although I am a little curious as to what you want.”

“Now that you’ve had a chance to think about what I told you earlier, and confer with your teammates – yes, I know, Miss Nikos, and don’t worry, I’m not upset; quite the contrary, in fact – I was hoping to find out what you think about all of this, having had time to reflect upon it.”

Pyrrha looked down, towards her hands. “I feel… Professor, I am… surprised by what I feel.”

Professor Ozpin leaned forward, resting his chin upon his hands.

“I have always,” Pyrrha continued, “as vain or egotistical as it may seem-”

“I run a school for young adults, Miss Nikos; there is nothing about vanity and ego that I have not witnessed in my time here,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “Nothing that you have to say upon the subject will be extraordinary to me, and none of it will leave here.”

“Thank you, Professor, although my friends know of it already,” Pyrrha informed him. “I’ve always thought that I was… fashioned for something great. Something tremendous, a great good for humanity, for the world. Perhaps even its… salvation. And yet, now… it strikes me that I ought to feel as though my hour has come, that the great trial I have spent my life preparing for has finally arrived… but I do not.”

Professor Ozpin let that hang in the air for a moment. “And why do you think that is, Miss Nikos?” he asked.

“I… I’m not sure, Professor,” Pyrrha confessed. “It might have something to do with…” She trailed off, not sure of how to phrase it. “I must confess, Professor, that I cannot think of any hero who faced a trial quite like this.”

Professor Ozpin smiled a little. “The heroes who faced this particular trial before this are not remembered, but that does not make them any less heroic.”

“I did not mean to suggest otherwise, Professor,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I just meant… rarely is a tale told of a hero who set forth upon a quest that they could not complete, marched towards a battle they knew could not be won.”

Actually, that was not quite true; there were several examples of the latter, most notably the tale of the Seven Against Mistral: Antigone had known that her assault was doomed from the start, having received the prophecy of her defeat and death from her blind father, but she had marched anyway out of stubborn pride. But that was a tragedy, not a heroic tale, and even Antigone had known that if the word had spread amongst her six champions, they would have refused to go on with her.

And Antigone had died, and so had the heroes who marched with her, and her own sister Ismene besides. The stories of those who defied inevitable fate had similar grim ends.

Perhaps that was a part of where her misgivings came from.

“Once again, Miss Nikos, I remind you that not all heroes are celebrated in the tales of old Mistral,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“But heroes that are not known, though they be greater by ten times than those whose stories are remembered, cannot teach us how we might conduct ourselves in perilous times,” Pyrrha replied. “We cannot look to those we do not know for inspiration. That is part of why we tell such stories: yes, they glorify our people, and for those like myself who are fortunate enough to claim descent from storied figures, we are… aggrandised by the connection. But we also tell such stories that we may learn from them. From my namesake ransoming the body of Camilla, we learn to be lordly and generous, even to our enemies; from Eteocles, we learn devotion to our family, while from Creusa, we learn conversely that we may defy our parents if they set their faces against honourable conduct. From the stories that we tell do we learn how to live a just and upright and a noble life, and yet… I know not what story I should turn to inspire me in this moment. All the tales that relate to my situation would have me put on grim resignation as I approach… as I approach my inevitable death.”

“Death is inevitable for all of us, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “But I sincerely hope it will not come for you for many decades yet.” He smiled. “If you do not live to be at least as old as I am, then as your teacher, I will be very disappointed.”

Pyrrha snorted. “You probably think that I’m absurd, Professor, don’t you?”

Professor Ozpin shook his head. “I think that you have had a great burden placed upon your shoulders, Miss Nikos; I am sorry that it had to come so soon. Believe me, although I must confess I have had my eye on you since you arrived here at Beacon, I would have much preferred to have waited until after you had graduated. Sadly, events have forced my hand. Salem is on the move, and we must respond.” He frowned and sipped some more of his chocolate. “I must respond,” he corrected himself. “I am sure that General Ironwood, too, feels he must respond; he seems to feel that he must respond to a great many things, though they occur far away from Atlas and are, strictly speaking, none of his business.” He drank some more of his hot chocolate. “But you, Miss Nikos, you are under no such obligations.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Professor,” she said, “I may not be able to think of a hero of old who faced a situation quite like this, but I can think of many whose example teaches me that I cannot turn away from this.”

“Only if you are determined to prove a hero, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin noted.

“Perhaps, Professor,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “But the time to turn away from that would have been before I came to Beacon. For what did I come here except to… to prove a hero?”

That was a rather disingenuous question, of course. If heroism or even service had been all there was to it, she would have accepted Terri-Belle’s offer without hesitation and perhaps have been, even now, a huntress and a member of the Imperial Guard. She had wished to stay at Beacon, been glad when the offer was withdrawn, because… because she had wanted to be free for a little while longer.

It seemed that freedom was to be denied to her now. She could not find an excuse for dithering a second time, especially not when it seemed as though she was being sent a message by forces greater than herself that she was not meant to enjoy the four years of student anonymity that she had sought. And yet, the knowledge, the memory, pricked at her.

“Professor,” she said. “Before… before you rely too much upon me, I feel as if there is something you should know.”

“Miss Nikos?”

“I had the chance to become a huntress during the spring break,” she told him. “Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower and firstborn daughter of the Steward, offered to make me a huntress and commission me into the Imperial Guard of Mistral. She even offered to name me as her successor when she, in turn, succeeded to the seat of stewardship.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he murmured. “I suppose that she technically had the power to do such a thing. I take it that you refused her?”

“The offer was withdrawn,” Pyrrha explained. “Amidst great social pressure – organised by my mother, I’m sure – and a lessening of the grimm threat. But, yes, I would have refused her. I… I didn’t want to go.”

“I am glad that you have so enjoyed your time here at Beacon so far, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said.

“But don’t you understand?” Pyrrha asked him. “I chose myself over my duty to Mistral and to mankind; if I was truly the person that you needed to serve you against the dark, would I not already be a huntress?”

“Ah, I see your point,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Or rather, I should say I see what you believe your point to be.”

“Some might say that since the offer was withdrawn it doesn’t matter if I would have accepted it or not,” Pyrrha murmured. “I disagree. In this case, I think it matters a great deal. Are you sure that I am someone you can rely on?”

“Well,” Professor Ozpin said, “far be it from me, a humble commoner of no birth, to criticise the Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower and daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but I believe she erred in offering you all that she did. With all due respect, Miss Nikos, I do not believe that you are ready to lead. Nor do I believe that you would have found in the Imperial Guard of Mistral such synergy as you possess with your comrades in Team Sapphire.”

“I turned away from the battle, Professor,” Pyrrha reminded him.

“As would have been your right,” Professor Ozpin said. “More to the point, it would be your right to turn away from this battle, and yet, you have refused to exercise it.”

“You do not think me a weak reed?”

“No, Miss Nikos, I think that you are a human being, capable of behaving differently in different situations,” Professor Ozpin said. “And, for my part, I am very glad that we didn’t lose you to the Imperial Guard. Team Sapphire and Beacon would both have been poorer by your absence, and I… I would have lost your services, which I am sure will be excellent.”

“You have more confidence in me than I have in myself, Professor,” Pyrrha said softly. “I fear that I have only skill at arms to my name, and that is-”

“Enough,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “I know that the threat of Salem, the knowledge of her particular lack of weakness, must dominate your thoughts, but I urge you, if you do wish to join this battle, put it to one side. You will never meet her, you will never hear her voice, she will not stir from her castle to trouble you. You need deal only with her servants and her grimm, the battle of monsters for which you have trained and will continue to train while you are here. The battle of huntresses, in which an excellent young huntress such as yourself will, I have no doubt, prove invaluable. If you wish it so.”

Pyrrha glanced away. “I… put like that, Professor, how can I refuse?”

“Forgive me,” Professor Ozpin begged. “I did not wish to press you with flattery, merely to reassure you.”

“I understand, Professor, and I thank you for it,” Pyrrha said earnestly. “I… I confess that there have been times when I have wondered what I have to offer such a world as this. Ruby and Sunset… they seem so much better suited for it than I do.”

“I take it, then, that Miss Rose has informed you of the extraordinary properties her eyes possess.”

“I… I am not sure whether she will like the cost once it comes out that she possesses magic,” Pyrrha confessed.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Leave that to me, Miss Nikos; as you may have realised, I’m rather good at keeping secrets.”

Pyrrha could not help but chuckle at that. She covered her mouth with one hand. “I suppose that’s true, Professor.”

“Do not be ashamed that you feel the burden of this task, the burden of the truths you have discovered,” Professor Ozpin told her sombrely. “It only shows that you are wise and alert to that same truth. I would be concerned if you were not concerned.”

“Ruby is not,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Miss Rose has many fine qualities,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “But also a little more growing to do yet.”

Pyrrha thought that a little harsh, considering that it had been Professor Ozpin’s own choice to let Ruby into Beacon before she had finished growing, but perhaps he had been more aware that this day would come than he wished to admit. She wondered briefly if she was allowed to ask that, before deciding that she had little to lose by it. “Did you know that this might happen, Professor? Did you foresee a crisis? Is that why you admitted Ruby early?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “There were signs,” he admitted. “I did not foresee that Salem would put her agent into Beacon itself, but… there were portents of a coming storm. Admitting Miss Rose was one of my discreet preparations. Plus, having seen her skills, I thought that she had little left to learn at combat school.”

“'Signs'?” Pyrrha asked. “'Portents'?”

“I am afraid that that is a subject for another time, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said apologetically.

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Of course, Professor.”

“Thank you for your time, Miss Nikos.”

There was a chessboard sitting on Professor Ozpin’s desk, with all the pieces laid out for a game. It was sat on one corner of the desk, not directly in front of the headmaster, but Sunset kept an eye on it nonetheless as she sat down.

She did not comment on it, but her eyes kept glancing at that before returning to look at the headmaster himself.

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said softly, his tone benign, almost reminiscent of Princess Celestia. Except he wasn’t Celestia. He was just a man. A man who kept secrets, a man who lied, a man who still knew a lot more than he was letting on to them. “How are things before your mission tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Sunset said. “The team is in… I can’t honestly say that they’re in good spirits, but I hope that I can get them there before we leave tomorrow morning.”

“You have an idea, I take it?”

“One or two,” Sunset replied. “Something to raise morale a little bit.”

“I am sorry to be the reason morale is low, Miss Shimmer.”

“Professor, I would rather suffer the morale hit and know the truth,” Sunset said. “All of it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Sometimes, one can do what one must perfectly well without all the facts, and sometimes, one is better off for it.”

In other words, you’re not going to tell me anything else, Sunset thought. “That is… a point of view, Professor.” Unfortunately, it was the view that Princess Celestia seemed to hold. The view that had been proved correct when Twilight, who had known no more than what she needed to know, had succeeded where Sunset, who had known everything, had failed. Sunset scowled at the thought that Professor Ozpin might be right to keep her and her friends in the dark.

“Something wrong, Miss Shimmer?”

“No, Professor,” Sunset grunted. The two are not comparable! Princess Celestia learned from failure and bitter experience; he is just acting this way because he likes the power that comes from knowledge! What gives him the right to decide what I can and cannot know? He is but a man, no better than myself. What gives him the right to act as Celestia does and to make a mockery of her by the imitation?

Put like that, it was a downright disgrace.

Professor Ozpin accepted her denial and said no more about her scowl. Rather, he said, “General Ironwood tells me that he has approved the plan that you devised alongside Miss Dash.”

“We all chipped in, although I did play a substantial part,” Sunset declared. “I’m glad it met with the General’s approval. It shows he has some tactical acumen after all.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “I sometimes suspect, Miss Shimmer, that you wear your ego as armour against the world.”

“As a faunus I have need of armour, Professor,” Sunset said. “My achievements will not speak for themselves, as Pyrrha’s do, so I must speak for them twice as loud.” She smiled. “And besides, I have a reputation as a narcissist to maintain.”

“You, at least, seem to be in good spirits, Miss Shimmer, in spite of everything.”

“Is that not part of my role, as leader, to be all cheer?” Sunset asked. She leaned forwards, her tail flicking back and forth behind her. “Now is the moment to stride to our glory and to our destiny; we stand upon the verge of the adventure of a lifetime, just like we signed up for.” She smiled, although she doubted that it reached her eyes. “Isn’t that what I ought to say to them?”

Professor Ozpin regarded her keenly. “I would prefer you to say something honest, Miss Shimmer.”

“You would not have me conjure hope when it is extinguished in my own heart, Professor?”

“Is hope extinguished in your heart, Miss Shimmer?”

“Not at all, Professor, I merely wish to make things clear.”

“I would have you make clear to me how you really feel, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset sniggered. “Very well, Professor, I shall speak true – although I do not guarantee I shall speak plainly, for plain speech is often rather dull, don’t you think? But truly, I am not sure that Salem is unbeatable.”

“Really? And what makes you say that, Miss Shimmer?”

“She hasn’t met me yet, Professor.”

“I believe I asked you to speak truly, Miss Shimmer; can you not take off your armour?”

“Think you that without my armour, I would be my true self, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Say rather that without my armour, I should be diminished and of less use to you in consequence.”

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin’s tone was reproachful. “I fear that such bravado will crumble and leave you greatly diminished at the worst possible time. I urge you to put it away now, while it is safe to do so.”

“And what would you have me embrace instead, Professor?” Sunset asked.

“A better lode to mine your courage from,” Professor Ozpin said. “Friendship-”

“I do not require you to instruct me in friendship, Professor,” Sunset said sharply, more sharply than she ought to have done. It rather gave away the game in terms of her hostility towards the headmaster, especially with the way her ears started to flatten on top of her head. But to be lectured by this man – this man – about friendship, and drawing courage from friendship and strength from friendship… it was not to be borne.

Professor Ozpin’s face was, by contrast, inscrutable. His voice was flat as he said, “You do not like me, do you, Miss Shimmer?”

“I do not know you well enough to say whether I like you or not, Professor,” Sunset replied. “You have not taken off your armour to let me get a look at you yet.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Touché, Miss Shimmer. But perhaps you can admit that you do not trust me.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “How did Summer Rose die?”

“I’m not sure why that’s relevant, Miss Shimmer.”

“She died in your service, did she not?” Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin took a moment to utter a quiet, “Yes.”

“That is why I do not trust you, Professor,” Sunset declared. “I understand friendship perfectly well, and need no instruction upon it from you. I have… I have learned it from many good and open hearts. If you wish to see me with my armour off, then very well: my friends are as dear to me as life itself. Dearer, even, I would fain go on living without them! If I could save them from this war, from this world and all its terrors and its cruelties, I would do it! I would do it, save that their natures are too noble to be saved when others are not; they would not have it. Very well, then I shall save them and the world! You call that arrogance; I call it all that I can do, the only option that is open to me. That is what I mine my courage from; that is what friendship means, Professor; that is why I will fight your battles for you, and win them, and keep them safe into the bargain. I will let you use me as your servant, but be under no doubt that I am theirs.”

“And Cinder Fall’s?”

Sunset’s chair scraped against the floor as she got up. “I don’t have to listen to this,” she snapped. “I don’t have to have my loyalty questioned.”

“Actually,” Professor Ozpin said mildly, “I think that if anyone is allowed to question your loyalty, I am.”

“My affection for Cinder will not place any of my friends in jeopardy,” Sunset said.

“No, I don’t suppose it will,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “That was very much the answer I expected from you, Miss Shimmer; please sit down.”

Sunset remained standing, her ears pressed down against her hair, her tail flicking as she glared down at the headmaster.

“Please, Miss Shimmer, I meant no offence,” Professor Ozpin said. “I am sorry, but you must understand that in this situation, I must understand… I must understand.”

“You seek to understand me?” Sunset asked.

“I think I am coming to understand you, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. He slid the chessboard into the centre of the desk. “Do you play, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset sat down. “Upon occasion, Professor.”

“Indulge me then, if you will,” Professor Ozpin said, gesturing at the board. “It’s your move.”

Indeed, he had presented Sunset with the advantage of playing as white.

Sunset folded her arms as she considered it. Professor Ozpin was likely to be a better opponent than Jaune Arc, although perhaps not so good as Twilight, and certainly not as good as Celestia. She might not win, but that was not to say that she stood no chance at all… and it would be good to see where she stood in front of him.

She picked up a pawn and moved it two squares forward.

She soon found that Professor Ozpin was very good. Better than Twilight Sparkle, better than Sunset had been expecting. Sunset found herself fighting just to fend him off, racing her knights and bishops from pillar to post to counter thrusts aimed here or there. He had an interesting style of play, to be sure; he seemed to have more pieces on the board than Sunset did, more pieces than the standard number that he actually had; he made his knights and rooks and bishops fly, relying on them far more than upon his pawns. His queen, he used not at all. In the whole game, she did not move from her starting position, next to the king. The most powerful piece in the game, and she simply sat there, motionless, while Sunset employed hers to menace Professor Ozpin’s pieces and make him think twice about some of his angles of attack.

If Professor Ozpin had any interest in queens at all, it seemed to lie in making them, for Sunset realised that he wasn’t trying to use his pawns to slaughter Sunset’s own pieces, but to get them across the board, to reach her backline where they could be crowned.

And what kind of queens will you make us, your real life pawns, Professor? Sunset thought. What kind of queen will Salem make of Cinder?

She frowned at the thought of Cinder, but the truth was… well, it described her, didn’t it? Trying to fight her way across the board against the odds, trying to be queen.

Not that she’d appreciate being called a pawn, of course.

The distracting thoughts irritated her, as did the fact that Sunset suspected that Professor Ozpin was going easy on her. More than once – several times, in fact – he left pieces open, left vulnerabilities for her to exploit, opportunities for her to take knights and bishops, even rooks, opportunities for her to close with his king.

She left them all alone. They were traps, all of them, that would have entailed trading pieces with him. She had no desire to do that. She sensed that this was not just a game that they were playing; this was a statement about herself that she was making to him. Very well then, she would show him who she was in this rather bloodless game of theirs.

“You’re being very cautious, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin noted.

“I’m being defensive, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “There is a difference.”

“An academic one, perhaps,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It is costing you the game.”

“I haven’t lost yet,” Sunset muttered.

“You aren’t winning, either,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “In fact, you are in retreat.”

“I’m preserving my forces.”

“You’re failing to take the opportunities that-”

“I don’t require you to give me openings,” Sunset snapped. “And I will not trade my pieces for your own.” She looked up from the board. “That’s what you would have me do, isn’t it? Sacrifice my pawns, my knights, all of my pieces to take out yours? To protect the king?”

“And the queen,” Professor Ozpin said mildly. “Sacrifices must be made, Miss Shimmer; in chess, in war, it is never pleasant, nor is it easy, nor should it be either of those things, but it is sometimes necessary.”

“Was Summer Rose a necessary sacrifice?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin did not respond. He simply moved.

Sunset moved in turn. “I don’t believe in necessary sacrifices,” she said.

Professor Ozpin frowned. “If you are not willing to lose something, Miss Shimmer,” he said, “I fear that you may lose everything.” He moved again. “That’s checkmate, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset’s mouth tightened. “This is not a game, Professor.”

“No, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “This is a war.”

“With lives at stake.”

“With kingdoms and a world at stake,” Professor Ozpin insisted. “In the field, you cannot afford to be squeamish.”

“I don’t mean to be squeamish,” Sunset answered. “I mean to win without losses.”

“And how do you propose to do that, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset held out her hand, which was surrounded by the green aura of her magic as she lifted the black pieces, every one, clean off the board with her telekinesis and deposited them neatly back in their box.

“How’s that for a start?” she demanded.

Truth to Power (New)

Truth to Power

The sunglasses were cheap plastic. Gilda had found them in a store – not in someone’s house; she wasn’t a ghoul – not long after they moved in. She wouldn’t ordinarily have needed anything like this – the sunshine in Vale wasn’t all that, not even in summer – but after spending a lot of time underground, when you came up for air, you found the light was a little hard on your eyes. So Gilda wore the cheap sunglasses.

And, honestly, even if they were cheap and plastic, they still made her look pretty cool, if she said so herself.

Gilda adjusted the rucksack on her back and flapped her wings experimentally to make sure that she could move them properly without the backpack getting in the way. She stood just outside the personnel elevator up from the railway yard to the surface, not far from the massive cargo elevator that they used to move their supplies and vehicles between surface and underground.

She had just come up, and absent her sunglasses, the light would have been blinding. As it was, the world was tinted in dark blue colours, appropriate for a dead city.

Fortunately, there wasn’t too much evidence of death – the White Fang had cleared away the bodies from any areas they had made their homes, because nobody wanted to see bones all the time – but unfortunately, just because you couldn’t see actual bodies in the streets didn’t mean you could forget what this place was. There was an unearthly quiet in the air, a lack of any sort of city sounds, that forcibly reminded you that this was a place from which humanity had been forcibly cast out.

It wasn’t the crumbling buildings, or the half-constructed buildings, or even the rusting cars that you saw on the streets. Gilda had grown up in Low Town underneath Atlas, where it had been almost as dark sometimes as it was in the underground, and she was no stranger to places crumbling to bits because they couldn’t be maintained. But this quiet… even in Low Town, there had been noise, always noise, even if it was just a low hum of background noise from people shooting the breeze with their neighbours. There was none of that here.

There wasn’t even a lot of natural noise to replace it. It was as though, even once the people were gone, nature wasn’t too keen to move in after them. You didn’t hear any birds; you didn’t see many animals, not even rats. There was nothing here… nothing but the grimm.

There was an extent to which Gilda would have welcomed hearing a grimm growl sometimes; thinking about the reasons you barely saw or heard from them gave her the creeps.

She wasn’t the only one to feel that way, but unfortunately, the only person whose opinion really mattered didn’t feel that way, so that was that. All they could do was get on with it and maybe pick the right moments to fight the battles all over again and hope for a different result.

Gilda’s hope was wearing out a bit on that score.

Which left getting on with it, which was just what she intended to do.

Gilda spread her wings and kicked off the ground, flapping furiously to bear herself, and the weight of the rucksack on her back, into the air. She flew into the blue sky, cloudless and almost offensively free from worry compared to how miserable it was down on the ground. From up above, flying over the abandoned houses, the half-built or half-fallen towers, Mountain Glenn didn’t seem so bad. She might have been looking at a new build under construction and not a monument to the arrogance of men. It helped that you wouldn’t expect to hear anything above a living city, so the quiet didn’t seem so bad.

Although, when flying, it was the emptiness that got to you, the fact that in all these streets, there was nothing to see, nothing but the packs of grimm roaming the avenues and alleyways, giving the White Fang a wide berth but claiming the rest of the dead city for their own.

Gilda took her eyes off them. She didn’t need to look down all the time to find her way; she knew it by heart by now.

As the only one of Adam’s lieutenants who wasn’t either dead, in jail, or a turncoat, Gilda didn’t need to go on supply runs to the outlying sentry posts, but she did it anyway because it gave her an excuse to get out of the underground and into the sun.

It gave her an excuse to fly.

She spread out her arms on either side of her as she flew, and sure, she couldn’t swoop or dive for the hell of it while she was carrying a load, but that didn’t matter because she was in the air, away from it all, with all her troubles falling away to the ground below. Up in the air, she was free. Free from humans, free from Cinder, free from her misgivings, free from all of it and all of them.

None of them could take the sky from her.

There was a part of her that didn’t want to land. A part of her that just wanted to keep going, to see how far or how high she could go with the wind on her face and rustling the feathers of her wings, to see just where they would take her if she let them. She wanted to just keep flying east, as east as east could get, with the land passing beneath her with all its fields and rivers, until she reached… what? The sea? The point where the world started to curl up on itself? The end of everything? Finding out would be part of the point, wouldn’t it?

But it was not to be. She had a job to do here; she had people who were depending on her, and she couldn’t just walk out on the White Fang to pursue some crazy dream.

Maybe in another life.

For now, in this life, Gilda banked downwards and descended upon the grey stone tower that sat at the eastern edge of the city. The Valish had built Mountain Glenn with a wall to keep the grimm at bay – much good it had done them – with gates to the northwest, south, and east, with roads leading… well, the northwest road led back to Vale for people who hadn’t wanted to take the subway; the east and southern roads led nowhere. Gilda guessed that they’d planned to roll them out as they continued to expand in those directions and had the gates ready and planned.

Obviously, it hadn’t worked out that way, but Gilda had managed to persuade Adam to put small details in each gatehouse anyway, just in case. It was true that there were plenty of breaches in the walls the grimm could come through instead, but if the White Fang had to clear out in a hurry, then they could do a lot worse than leave by one of the major roads the Valish had laid out, and fleeing towards Vale didn’t seem like a great idea. If need be, they could run east or south and hope to lose the Atlesians in the wilderness.

But for that to work, they needed to know they weren’t going to run straight into a whole mess of grimm, hence the guards, there to make sure that the coast was clear.

It was on the eastern gatehouse that Gilda descended, or upon one of the two square and blocky towers that made it up, standing on either side of the sealed metal gate that occupied the gap in the wall.

Gilda landed on top of the tower to find Strongheart standing sentry on the roof, looking out across the battlements towards the wild east that lay beyond the city.

“Hey,” Gilda said, moving nimbly across the grey stone to stand beside her, “see anything?”

“See for yourself,” Strongheart said, gesturing with one hand out into the wilds beyond the wall.

Gilda saw what she meant: a herd, or whatever the word was, of goliaths moving southwards across the front of the city, a column three or four wide and so deep that she couldn’t see the start or finish of it as it passed by. And these weren’t young goliaths either, in the main – although she could see one or two little ones struggling to keep up; any more were lost in the press of the column – they were big, and being big, they were surely old too, with spikes of bone the size of pikestaffs jutting out of their backs. She hadn’t noticed it when she was in the air, but now that she had landed, she could feel the tower – and the earth itself – shaking with their stomping tread as they marched on.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Strongheart asked.

“I don’t know,” Gilda answered. “So long as they don’t bother us, they can go where they please.”

As she said this, one of the goliaths upon the edge of the herd stopped, and although it was hard to be sure at this distance, Gilda was absolutely sure that it turned its head to give her a dirty look with its burning red eyes.

Gilda found herself taking an involuntary step backwards, swallowing as her throat became suddenly dry.

She would have reached for her sword, but she hadn’t brought either of them with her; it was awkward to strap them on with the backpack.

Not that it would have done her much good, in any case. Against a grimm that size, Strongheart’s rifle wouldn’t have helped much either. Short of some of their stolen Atlesian weapons, Adam’s semblance was about the only thing she could think of that would harm them, and even that was touch and go, given he needed to charge it up first.

Thankfully, the grimm turned away, rejoining the herd as they marched southwards, trumpeting to one another as they went.

“What do you think that was about?” Strongheart asked softly, her voice trembling a little.

“I think he was sending us a message,” Gilda muttered.

“What kind of message?”

“That he knows where we live,” Gilda said. “Even if we’re not worth his time right now.” She shook her head. “We should never have come here.”

“Cinder says-“

“Cinder says a lot of crap, if you ask me,” Gilda growled. “This is a mistake.”

“Adam won’t like to hear you say that,” Strongheart said warily.

“Adam doesn’t have to like it; he just needs to hear it,” Gilda replied. “I’m his number two, with everyone else… gone. That means speaking truth to power.” She couldn’t remember where she’d heard that. It might have been something Blake had said, or maybe it had been Dashie, something she’d picked up from her fancy human friends. It was a little ironic, taking leadership advice from the person who had betrayed her or the person who had betrayed the cause, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t good advice.

Plus, it gave her an excuse to say what she thought, and that was always a plus.

Strongheart frowned. “If you’re speaking truth to power, doesn’t that mean you ought to keep it to yourself when you aren’t talking to Adam?”

“I do keep it to myself,” Gilda said defensively. “Mostly.”

Strongheart’s eyebrows rose. “Everyone knows that you’re not happy, Gilda. People are starting to talk.”

“People always talk,” Gilda said. “But what are they saying now?”

“They’re saying that if we lose, it’ll be your fault,” Strongheart explained. “Because you didn’t believe in us. You didn’t believe in Adam.”

“Oh, bollocks,” Gilda spat. If they lost, it wasn’t going to be because she – or anyone – hadn’t believed enough in the plan or the cause or anything else. What, did these people think that belief was going to repel Atlesian missiles?

Although I guess I can see why they think I’m a downer.

That didn’t change the fact that she was right, even if Strongheart was… not without a point. Blake, after all, had always kept her misgivings private; so private that everyone had been absolutely gobsmacked when she left because there’d been no hint she was the slightest bit unhappy about any of this. But even when she pushed back against Adam, even when she argued with him about strategy or tactics, she never took it outside and aired her grievances amongst the rest of them.

Of course, she had possessed some advantages that Gilda didn’t have; it wasn’t as though Gilda could stick her tongue down Adam’s throat to make him listen to her. She could try, but she’d probably lose the tongue at the very least.

He wasn’t listening to her. And she couldn’t make him listen, so she talked to other people who might listen to her, hoping… 'mutiny' was a strong word, but she wouldn’t deny that if there was a groundswell against carrying out this insanity and moving out of Mountain Glenn and severing Cinder Fall’s head from her shoulders, she wouldn’t say no.

“If this doesn’t work out, it won’t be because of me,” she insisted stubbornly. “Blake would have-”

“Blake betrayed us!” Strongheart snapped. “Blake left! If she’d run away, it would have been bad enough, but now she’s fighting for Atlas!” She turned away. “I don’t want to hear her name again.”

Gilda looked down at the ground beneath her feet. It was a sore subject with her, clearly. It was a sore subject with a lot of the old crowd… or the not so old crowd, considering the old-old crowd had mostly been whacked by Adam since the mess at the docks back in the springtime.

Still, Blake was a sore subject for a lot of people, not just the boss. Kids like Strongheart, people who had fought alongside her… you couldn’t help but look up to Blake. She was smart, proper smart, and educated too. Gilda… Gilda struggled with her reading and writing; she had to run her finger across the page and mouth the words, and even then, she didn’t get them all right – the longest word she knew was ‘explosives’ – but Blake read books for fun, and when she talked about them… she could tell the best stories, about far away places and people with lives like nothing Gilda could have imagined. And she was a damn good fighter to boot, and she seemed to care whether you lived or died on a raid she was part of. She had the High Leader’s favour, and it wasn’t hard to see why. Yeah, a lot of people had looked up to Blake, and a lot of people had taken it hard when it turned out that the Blake Belladonna they had all looked up to so much had been a fake, a lie, a mask that she’d worn to fool them all.

That was the best case scenario. The news said that she’d been an Atlas spy all along, a deep cover operative buried deep within the White Fang. Gilda didn’t believe it for a second, and Strongheart didn’t believe it, and she was damned if Adam believed it. It was just the human way of trying to save face.

Considering the lack of arrests made or operations foiled while she was around, if Blake had been a spy, she’d done a terrible job of it.

No, Blake had been on their side… right up until she wasn’t anymore. Which was an uncomfortable thought, and one that nobody wanted to think about.

Gilda pushed that thought aside. It wasn’t important right now. What was important was that Blake would have recognised this plan for the folly it was, would have recognised Cinder for the poison she was, would have stopped it somehow.

Which meant, since she wasn’t here, that Gilda would have to stop it, or try to.

But there was no good saying all of that to Strongheart. For Strongheart, she let the matter drop, just as she let her rucksack drop to the ground to land with a sight clatter on the roof of the tower. “Never mind about her,” Gilda declared. “Never mind about the plan or any of the rest of it. You want a treat?”

Strongheart’s eyes lit up. “Do you have any Ferdy bars?”

“Let’s see,” Gilda said, kneeling down and opening up the rucksack. She wasn’t sure whether Strongheart was properly too old to want a chocolate bar shaped like a cartoon frog or too young to be carrying a gun into battle; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the answer was. “I think,” she said, as she rummaged around, “that we might still have a few of these left.” She grinned as she pulled one out. “Here.”

“Yes!” Strongheart said. “Thanks, Gilda.”

“I meant what I said; there aren’t many left,” Gilda reminded her. It wasn’t like they could just go shopping, after all, and the food that they had brought with them from Vale, either purchased legally or stolen from the Atlesians, wasn’t going to last forever. As ghoulish as it was, they could – and they would have to – scavenge for canned food and bottled water and the like amidst the ruins of Mountain Glenn, but any chocolate bars and stuff would have gone off years ago.

Once it ran out, they would have to do without for the foreseeable future.

“You want a drink too?” Gilda asked.

Strongheart nodded. “Tea, please,” she said, bending down to pick up a little tin cup that sat on the floor.

Gilda had two large vacuum flasks with her, one of tea and the other of coffee. The milk had already run out, and so had the sugar for that matter, so Gilda poured the black tea into the tin cup. “Something to warm you up a little bit,” she said. She hadn’t brought essentials with her because the squad had brought their Atlesian ration packs and their canned spaghetti and the like with them when they moved in, and their relief would do the same. Gilda had brought some little treats for everyone, some hot tea and coffee and some biscuits and chocolate from their diminishing stores, just to let the guys know they hadn’t been forgotten up here.

She spent an hour or in the gatehouse, longer than it took to actually give the stuff out, just hanging out with the sentry unit, seeing who laughed at her jokes and who looked at her like she was a second Blake in the making, enjoying feeling the sun on her face as it entered the tower.

As it was time to go, she returned to Strongheart standing sentry up top and joined her looking out over the battlements eastward, towards a land that was once more empty. The Goliaths had all long gone, and there was nothing before them but land and forest, grass and trees as far as the eye could see.

Gilda leaned upon the wall. “I wonder what’s out there,” she said.

“Maybe nothing’s out there,” Strongheart suggested.

“Something’s there; you can see it,” Gilda pointed out.

“You know what I mean,” Strongheart replied. “No people, nothing.”

“Sounds nice,” Gilda muttered.

Strongheart sniggered.

“You think I’m joking,” Gilda said. “But maybe we’ve got this all wrong. We shouldn’t be wasting our time fighting for equality in Vale; we should just pack up all our stuff and head out there, to free lands, just waiting for us. We could build something, like our ancestors did on Menagerie, only with-”

“More grimm?” Strongheart suggested.

Gilda snorted. “Maybe,” she grumbled. Probably. After all, if it was a good idea, someone smarter than her would have come up with it before now. “Anyway, I should be getting back. I’ve wasted enough time here.” She turned away from the view, with all its promise, and began to walk towards the centre of the roof. Her legs bent as she prepared to kick off.

“Hey, Gilda,” Strongheart called, prompting Gilda to look back at her. “It’s going to work,” she declared. “Adam’s plan, or Cinder’s, it’ll work. Adam’s going to lead us to glory.”

Gilda still couldn’t get it out of her head that Adam was most likely to lead them to their deaths, but nevertheless, she smiled and said in the most sincere voice that she could manage, “Sure he will.” Then she kicked off and took to the skies with a far lighter load upon her back than she had arrived with.

That loss of weight, and of breakable objects, gave her a greater freedom in the air, and on her way across the city, she rolled and dived and spread her wings in the most literal sense, bursting through clouds as she rose, higher and higher, up towards the sun, before dropping down like a thunderbolt towards the ground and all its troubles.

It was towards the ground, at last, that she returned, having squandered even more time amongst the sky before she finally set her feet down back where she had started from, outside the personnel elevator.

There was no one on guard here. Mountain Glenn was a secret base, and for the most part, they trusted in secrecy rather than sentries. Some people had joked that the grimm were their sentries, but Gilda didn’t find that very funny.

Not least because it wasn’t wrong.

The elevator was a cage rather than a box, a metal cage that let you see the walls of the hole on either side as you dropped into the darkness which you could also see beneath your feet, swallowing you up the further down you got.

As she descended into that great darkness, with the rocky shaft of black stone on either side of her, Gilda would have preferred a box.

It certainly didn’t help that the lights had all gone out and they didn’t have the dust to spare to illuminate the shaft. Just keeping the elevators running verged on a luxury.

And it was slow too, grindingly slow. She could have flown down twice as fast, at least if it weren’t for the elevator blocking the way.

It gave her time to think. To think about… about all the things that were making her less than popular in some quarters.

But she was right. Damn it, she knew she was right. This wasn’t going to end the way that Adam wanted it to.

She didn’t understand why he couldn’t see it.

The elevator reached the bottom, and Gilda lifted up the cage door with one hand, stepping out into the railway yard that the White Fang were using as their base. They had cleaned the rails of any debris, and the train and all its long tail of cars sat upon those rails, resting silently like some sleeping animal waiting to be woken up and put to work. The storage sheds were filled with dust; well, no, they weren’t filled any more, so much of it had been used already, but it was still where they were keeping the rest. Rows of Paladins, as still and silent as the train itself, waited in rank upon rank, arrayed like soldiers on parade. The rest of the yard had been transformed into a great camp, the darkness illuminated by the light of cooking fires, as hundreds of warriors camped and trained and slept and waited.

Gilda could hear the strain of a guitar playing some way off, voices raised in song; from the other side of the camp came the snap of gunfire as some fighters used the faces from Pumpkin Pete’s boxes for target practice.

Gilda had never known anything quite like this, in her whole time with the White Fang. They had never mustered this many troops in one place before. There might be a good reason for that, but all the same, regardless of all of Gilda’s worries and her doubts, there was a part of her that was inspired by the sight: a thousand men, more or less, come together to fight for the freedom of the faunus. Yes, most of them weren’t trained, but Gilda had barely been trained when she first came to the Fang; she’d been trained while she was here.

They could be trained, all of them. They could become more than just enthusiastic volunteers. They could all of them discover their aura, their semblances; they could become true warriors, standard bearers for the cause.

What they couldn’t do was beat the Atlesians in a stand-up fight. And it was a waste to even try.

They had the manpower here to swell the numbers of all the chapters, even to rebuild the Atlesian chapter anew. Instead, they were going to take what no other chapter had done in the history of the White Fang in raising numbers like this and just throw it all away.

If Gilda spent too much time talking about how doomed they all were, this was why: because it was such a colossal waste.

Gilda made her way across the camp, looking for Adam.

She found him just beyond the railway yard, in a secluded spot that was reserved for him and him alone, training.

Mountain Glenn had a few secrets the White Fang had not been expecting when they moved in, including some odd robots that they’d found amongst the ruins: combat robots, but bigger than the usual Atlesian models, and tougher too, as the White Fang had found out when they turned them on. They didn’t have anyone with the technical skills to reprogram them, but Adam had nevertheless ordered them all brought here, and whenever he wanted to train, he would turn a few on and let them try to kill him.

Nobody had asked what would happen if they actually did kill him; Gilda might doubt Adam’s plan, but she didn’t doubt his skill in a fight.

She found him with his shirt off, the muscles that ripped across his body gleaming with sweat, his sword glowing with a dull red light as he sparred with four of the giant, broad-shouldered robots.

Gilda watched, silently, not daring to disturb him. The robots looked like they ought to be slow, but they weren’t. Far from it. They were all armed with halberds, and they slashed and thrust with their glowing weapons, lights embedded in the blades leaving trails of light in their wake as they tried to box Adam in, tried to restrict his movement, tried to surround him and finish him. Adam didn’t give them the chance. Gilda wouldn’t have thought it would be possible for him to get better than he had been, but somehow, he had. He was stronger now, and more importantly he was faster; she couldn’t follow his movements any more, except by the red trail that Wilt left behind as it slashed through the darkness. Sometimes, he trained by turning on one of the robots with a gun and trying to block all the bullets with his blade, and by the lights, he did it too. Just like he effortlessly sliced through the robots, outmanoeuvring them, slipping and sliding away from their strokes which seemed so clumsy compared to his, Wilt slicing through their metal bodies until only scraps remained.

When the fighting was done, Adam stood in the midst of the ruin that had wrought, and although his back was to Gilda, she could still see him panting for breath a little.

“What do you think, Gilda?” he asked.

Gilda stepped out of the shadows. “How did you know I was here?” she asked.

Adam turned to face her. Though his shirt was off, he had kept his mask on; she’d never known him to take it off. “I’m not just training my speed and my strength. That Atlesian dog got the drop on me once, as well as outfighting me twice. Well, the third time will pay for all. For her, and for the other traitor to our race that Blake betrayed me for.”

Gilda could believe it. Since the last train job had gone sideways thanks to Dashie and Blake, Adam had been in continual practice. If Dashie got overconfident on the basis of what had happened last time…

Gilda didn’t know whether she’d regret that. She shouldn’t, because Dashie was her enemy, a dog of the Atlesian military; Dashie had left her behind, betrayed their friendship, pledged herself to the people who were keeping the faunus down. She should welcome Dashie’s death. But somehow, she didn’t think she would.

Not that she’d say that where Adam or anyone else could hear her.

“Did you want something, Gilda?” Adam asked.

“I want to talk about the plan,” Gilda said.

“We’ve talked about the plan enough,” Adam declared. “Too often.”

“And we have time to talk about it some more,” Gilda insisted.

“Why, Gilda?” Adam demanded. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I’m speaking-”

“'Truth to power,' yes, you’ve said,” Adam muttered. “Many times.”

“It’s my job,” Gilda said. “If I don’t tell you things that you don’t want to hear, then who will?”

“At what point does it become your job to shut up and do as I tell you?” Adam demanded.

Gilda shrugged. “When the bullets start flying.”

Adam stared at her, or at least, she thought he did; the mask made it hard to say. “There is no room for cowards in the White Fang,” he told her bluntly.

Gilda took a step forward, hands clenching into fists. “I’m no coward,” she cried. “But this… we have an opportunity here, Adam, a great opportunity, one that the White Fang hasn’t had-”

“I know!” Adam said, his voice rising. “I am well aware of what an opportunity this is, what an opportunity that Cinder has given to us. We have numbers, we have weapons the like of which we could never have acquired on our own, we have dust in such quantities as never before. Don’t you see, Gilda? We are no longer a group of terrorists, we are no longer a band of miscreants hiding from our enemies, we are an army!”

“Vale has an army too,” Gilda declared. “Atlas has an army, an army that they’ve sent to Vale, and they have all the toys that we and Cinder’s friends have stolen off them and bigger and better ones that we haven’t got our hands on. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a cruiser parked in the yard.”

“Cinder has promised to neutralise the Atlesian strength in the air,” Adam said, “and turn their automatons against them. As I’ve told you before.”

“And as I’ve told you before, boss, I don’t trust her to live up to her promises,” Gilda replied.

“She has power,” Adam insisted. “She has power the likes of which you and I cannot comprehend, the kind of power we couldn’t possibly have imagined.”

“Or she’s peed on our leg and told us it's raining,” Gilda muttered.

“Have we not survived here, these past months?” Adam demanded. “Have we not been safe from the grimm, just as she promised we would be? What is that, if not proof of Cinder’s power?”

Gilda hesitated. “She’s not one of us,” she said.

“Blake was one of us,” Adam snarled. “Blake was one of us, trusted, beloved, but she betrayed me! Betrayed all of us! Just as faunus betray their own kind all the time, betray the cause, fight for Atlas and Vale, sign up as huntsmen and huntresses! Maybe it’s time that we accepted that humans can betray their own kind as well?” He paused. “If not this, Gilda, then what?”

“Split up,” Gilda said. “Train our new recruits to fight the way that we fight, hitting the enemy where it hurts and then melting away. We have the numbers now to strike everywhere from Cold Harbour to-”

“The old way,” Adam said dismissively.

“Our way,” Gilda insisted. “The way that has kept us alive.”

“'Alive'?” Adam repeated. “Is that all that we are fighting for? To stay alive?”

“It’s better than being dead.”

“But we do die,” Adam said. “We die in every battle, and those that survive lose hope.” He turned away. “Blake lost hope,” he murmured. “She couldn’t bear the fact that we were no closer to victory than we began five years ago, and so, in her despair, she chose the easy comforts of slavery over the endless hardship of our war.”

Gilda frowned, but said nothing.

“I will not let this go on,” Adam said, his voice rising once more. “I cannot let this go on. I cannot tell these brave faunus here that the victory they expected will be denied by your caution. We are adrift, Gilda; I am tired of these games, these pinprick blows. I want this to be the final battle; I want this to be the moment when we shatter the power of Atlas and light the spark of a flame that will burn down the kingdoms of Remnant that oppress us! With Cinder’s help-”

“Even if she does all that she promised, we’ll still be going up against a battle-hardened army-”

“What we may lack in experience or numbers against our foes, we will make up with valour a hundredfold!” Adam cried. “There is no power in Remnant greater than the need for freedom, it is more powerful than armies, than Atlesian airships, more powerful than huntsmen and academies and even the Kingdom of Vale itself. When we break through, animated by that burning desire for freedom that burns in the heart of every faunus here, I promise you, we will prevail.”

Gilda was interrupted before she could reply, by the sound of swift-running feet and the arrival of a messenger.

“Adam,” she said, panting for breath. “You need to come quickly to the northwest gate. Cinder Fall has come.”

For Want of a Nail (New)

For Want of a Nail

Trixie’s look was so sour that it could have curdled the milk in the teacup which she was holding with perfect poise in her right hand, glaring at Twilight over the top of it, even as the steam rose up between her face and her host.

“Soooo,” Trixie said, drawing out the word almost as long as she drew out the ‘R’s in her style, “it’s mission week tomorrow, the chance for all the teams to really show what they can do out in the field, and our mission… is to babysit you?”

Twilight winced. “That… that’s about the long and short of it, yeah,” she murmured apologetically.

Trixie continued to glare at her over the tea. Her eyes remained fixed on Twilight even as she began to sip her tea daintily with one hand. Only when she had drunk her fill did her scowl dissolve into a rather smug smile. “Well, I suppose that we’ll manage to keep you safe. Don’t worry, Twilight; you’re in good hands with a real team.”

Rainbow made a sound as though she was about to choke. “'A real team'?”

“Trixie,” Starlight murmured. “That’s enough.” She and Trixie were sitting on Penny’s bed, while Rainbow and Twilight sat similarly side by side on Twilight’s bed, facing their two guests, whom they had just finished briefing on the role that Team TTSS were expected to play in the forthcoming mission to Mountain Glenn. “This is serious.”

“Everything is serious,” Trixie replied. “That’s why we have to make light of it while we can.”

“I might take your point in general, but I’m still not sure this is the time,” Starlight said softly. She looked at Twilight, and then at Rainbow, then back at Twilight again. “So, let me run this back: the White Fang might be hiding in a place called Mountain Glenn, which is a dead city in the southeast of Vale that had to be abandoned because the grimm got in and killed everybody.”

“That’s a rather grim summation,” Twilight said. “But fundamentally accurate.”

“And why do you think that the White Fang might be based there?” Starlight asked.

“That’s… classified,” Twilight said.

“We have been on a mission with Blake before, you know,” Trixie reminded them. “You could just tell us that she produced this intelligence.”

“That… would have made a lot of sense,” Twilight admitted, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of that. It would have explained everything perfectly!

Starlight and Trixie looked at one another.

“You didn’t get this from Blake, did you?” asked Starlight flatly.

“It’s classified,” Rainbow repeated.

“Ooookay,” Starlight murmured. “But you,” she pointed at Rainbow Dash, “but not you,” she jabbed her finger at Twilight, “are going to this Mountain Glenn place to check it out. You, Twilight, are going to be in another airship providing support and we’re going to be there with you to guard you.”

“And possibly provide reinforcements if necessary,” Twilight added.

Trixie drank some more of her tea. “As gratified as the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is that General Ironwood recognises that only Team Tsunami has the skill required to be entrusted with this vital task,” she declared, verbally preening with every word, “Trixie is less than happy that she isn’t trusted enough to know everything about this operation.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Twilight assured her. “It’s just… operational security.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Starlight allowed. “It doesn’t answer my bigger questions.”

“Like what?” Rainbow asked.

“Like why you?” Starlight demanded. “Couldn’t the General find any real soldiers?”

Rainbow smirked. “No real soldiers as awesome as us.”

Starlight didn’t smile. “Rainbow Dash,” she replied, reproachfully. She leaned forward, her elbows resting upon her knees. “Listen, I get it. Believe me, I get it, I mean, I’m Trixie’s teammate, remember?” She jabbed her thumb at Trixie, earning a gasp of faux outrage that Starlight ignored. “Every team leader acts like their team is the best, every team leader acts like their team doesn’t need to go to school and totally has the skills to graduate early and start kicking butt, and some teams even manage to back it up. But we’re not talking about an unsupervised mission to fix a relay tower here; we’re talking about a White Fang base and a dead city full of grimm.” She hesitated. “I gotta be honest with you, I wouldn’t let Trixie agree to ride point on something like this.”

“No?” Rainbow asked, sounding surprised to hear it.

“Hell no!” Starlight declared emphatically. “It’s way too dangerous! So cut it out and tell me the truth: why are you doing this? If General Ironwood thinks that the White Fang base is in Mountain Glenn, then why doesn’t he put a squad of specialists on it and let them earn their pay?”

Now it was the turn of Rainbow and Twilight to look at one another.

“We… we really can’t tell you everything,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry, but-”

“But we don’t understand some of this stuff ourselves,” Rainbow said. “Like how this is a joint mission with Beacon, and Professor Ozpin doesn’t like specialists.”

Twilight looked at Rainbow. He doesn’t? When did you find that out? Did General Ironwood tell you that?

Starlight leaned back, a puzzled frown upon her face. “Who doesn’t like specialists?”

“Professor Ozpin,” Rainbow repeated.

“Is that why we had to rescue Twilight and the others from the forest?” Starlight asked.

“No, that was just politics; this is something else.”

“So he doesn’t like adult soldiers, but he’s fine with students,” Starlight muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is a weird country.”

“I’m sure he has good reasons for it,” Twilight said, earning her an incredulous look from Rainbow Dash.

What? I can’t help it; I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

“Like Twi said, we can’t say everything,” Rainbow added. “But… we’re the only ones who can do this. You’re going to have to trust us on that.” She paused. “But you don’t have to be a part of it. If you don’t want this, then you can find a real mission, and I’ll try and find someone else to be our backup and take care of Twilight while I’m away.”

Trixie and Starlight looked at one another, seeming to confer without words.

“That,” Trixie declared, “will not be necessary!”

“We’re your first choice, right?” Starlight asked.

Rainbow nodded. She grinned. “Who else would I pick ahead of you four?”

“Then that’s why we’ll do it,” Starlight said. “I’m not going to make you settle for your second choice pick with this much at stake. Not with Twilight at stake.” She reached out and put a hand on Twilight’s knee. “Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe with us.”

“And you only need to scream out, Rainbow Dash,” Trixie added, leaping to her feet. “And the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie will rrrrrescue you!”

“I think I might rather die down there,” Rainbow muttered. But then she smiled, to show that she hadn’t meant anything by it. She thrust out one hand. “Thanks, Starlight, I appreciate this.”

“AHEM!”

“Thank you, Trixie,” Rainbow said, with a slight sigh in her voice. “This means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, Rainbow Dash,” Trixie replied. “And you’re absolutely right, of course; we are every bit as talented as serving specialists. And we have much better hair.” She petted said hair with one hand.

“Will Sunburst or Tempest be disappointed about missing out on a real mission?” Twilight asked anxiously.

“We’re going to be on stand-by to reinforce an effort to locate a high value target; you don’t call that a real mission?” Starlight asked.

“I just meant-”

“I know what you meant,” Starlight replied. “And it’s fine. Sunburst and Tempest aren’t the glory-seeking types. Sunburst will be happy to help, and Tempest… Tempest is-”

“Tempest,” Trixie said, “is Tempest.”

“In any case, Team Tsunami has already shown that it can complete missions without the aid of a professional huntsman,” Trixie said. “Now we’re showing that we’re trusted by General Ironwood himself with high value missions. Almost as trusted as beloved Rainbow Dash herself.”

If only you knew, Twilight thought.

“So, does this mean that we get to find out just why you’ve been pretending to be a huntress in training this year, Twilight?” Starlight asked.

“What are you talking about?” Twilight gasped. “I am a huntress in training. I decided to get out of the lab and-”

“Twilight,” Starlight said flatly. “We’re not stupid. Just because I haven’t known you as long as Rainbow or the other girls doesn’t mean that I don’t know you well enough to know that this isn’t you. Do we get to know what’s going on, or is that classified too?”

“I’m afraid so,” Twilight murmured.

“You’re keeping a lot of secrets,” Starlight said quietly. “Just… remember that I’m here if you need to talk about the pressure. I know what it’s like to feel like there’s a lot resting on your shoulders.”

And that’s just one more reason why we can’t tell you anything about this, Twilight thought. Starlight had already freaked out once from the pressure of school and its attendant expectations; just how badly would she take the revelations that had borne down upon Twilight and Rainbow Dash this morning? “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah,” Starlight said. “You do that.” She paused. “How are you feeling? After last night?”

“I’m fine,” Twilight said. Honestly, aside from solidifying her choice not to go into the field with the others, any feelings that last night had aroused in her had been pretty much dispelled under the light of morning, crushed beneath the weight of revelations which had left her no room to feel anything else about anything else. “I mean… you’re right, Starlight, I’m not a huntress, and I have been pretending-”

“Twilight!” Rainbow squawked.

“For reasons which I’m not at liberty to explain to you, but I suppose if you want a reason why I’ll be hanging back with you guys, that’s why. I don’t want to put any of the Mountain Glenn team in additional danger by forcing them to protect me.”

Trixie nodded. “How was she, Rainbow Dash? That Cinder Fall, I mean.”

“Tough,” Rainbow admitted.

“Tougher than you?” Trixie asked, her tone shorn of the mockery that Twilight would have expected to accompany such a question.

“She pulled a cheap shot at the end,” Rainbow muttered.

“She threatened me to get Rainbow to take a hit,” Twilight explained. “Like I said, that’s why I’m not going.”

“But she’s not invincible,” Rainbow insisted. “I would have had her, otherwise. I think you could take her,” she added to Starlight. She looked at Trixie. “You, I’m not so sure about.”

Trixie harrumphed.

Starlight shook her head. “I still can’t believe that a student would do something like this. Do they have any idea why she did it?”

“No,” Twilight said quickly, and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that she was lying. “Not a clue.”

“Her whole team was in on it, too,” Trixie said. “Four students!”

“I find that easier to believe than that any one member of a team could be a traitor and the others didn’t realise it,” Starlight replied. She got to her feet. “Anyway,” she said. “We should be going. We’ll brief Sunburst and Tempest – as much as we can, anyway – and be waiting for you tomorrow, Twilight.”

Trixie bowed. “Twilight Sparkle. Rainbow Dash.”

Twilight smiled. “See you tomorrow, both of you.”

Starlight opened the door for Trixie, who stepped out, while Starlight lingered in the doorway. “I mean it,” she said. “I’m here if you want to talk. Either of you.” She smiled and closed the door after herself, leaving the two of them alone.

“It sucks that we can’t tell them,” Twilight moaned.

“Would they want to know?” Rainbow asked. “I mean… Starlight doesn’t exactly handle pressure well.”

“I suppose,” Twilight admitted. “Although I think Trixie would deal with it okay.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Twilight replied. “Think about it: who handled it best out of all of us?”

“Sunset,” Rainbow said. “Or maybe Ruby. Can I answer a tie?”

“It’s a fair question,” Twilight allowed. “But Ruby is… rather unique, so if we take Sunset as an answer, then what does that tell you?”

“What does it tell me about Trixie, you mean?” Rainbow responded. “I don’t know, they both…” She trailed off. “You’re not saying-”

“I think it’s worth considering the possibility that enormous ego may be the best way to withstand the shock of these revelations; even allowing that a data point is not the same as a trend, it’s rather telling that the person who took it all best is the person with the highest opinion of themselves and of their own worth.” She smiled. “Makes sense, don’t you think? People like Sunset – people like Trixie – think they’re so amazing that revelations like this can’t put a dent in them.”

“It makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Rainbow groaned. “Anyway, just because Trixie can handle it doesn’t mean that we have to tell her. We can’t.”

“I know we can’t,” Twilight said. “I just… I don’t like being one of the people who decides who does and who doesn’t deserve to know the truth.”

“We’re not,” Rainbow told her. “General Ironwood decides. Or Professor Ozpin decides. That’s what weirds me out; the General taking orders from someone else, but… anyway, the point is that we’re not deciding anything. Just like we didn’t decide who got to find out about Penny.”

“We sort of did decide that,” Twilight reminded Rainbow Dash.

“We got permission.”

“It’s not as if General Ironwood would have considered it if we hadn’t pushed him on it.”

“Somehow, I doubt he’ll be as open to the idea of telling everyone about… all this,” Rainbow remarked.

Twilight nodded. “Do you think that I should ask about magic?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Do you want to ask about magic?”

Twilight hesitated. “Not right now,” she admitted. “Not with everything else happening at the moment; I don’t want to bother General Ironwood with it, but… I’m wondering if I should afterwards, when the mission is over. Or when the threat is over. When things have calmed down. Sometime, I feel like I should ask. I feel like I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

Rainbow reached out and clasped Twilight by the hand. “You think the General knows something?”

“We know Professor Ozpin knows something,” Twilight said. “Ruby’s diary, remember? Or her mother’s diary, rather. The powers possessed by that woman that Team Stark escorted sound a lot like the abilities displayed by the woman who rescued me when I was a girl!”

“The woman that you think-”

“Oh, come on, Rainbow Dash!” Twilight cried. “We just found out that the Two Brothers were real and that they left four relics of unimaginable power behind here on Remnant, that an immortal queen of the grimm is seeking those relics, and that General Ironwood and the headmasters of Beacon, Haven, and Shade Academies run a secret society dedicated to protecting said relics and the rest of the world; is it still so hard to imagine that I didn’t have a concussion that day?”

Rainbow took a moment to respond. “Well, when you put it like that,” she muttered. “But my point stands, the same point that I’ve always had when you’ve tried to convince me about this stuff: where are they? The world is so dangerous – even more dangerous than we thought – so if there are these whatever you want to call them with magic, if you want to call it that, then where are they?”

“Where are the relics?” Twilight responded. “Maybe General Ironwood and the others don’t trust that their powers won’t be misused in the same way that they don’t trust people to use the Relics safely and with wisdom.” Given what had become of the prophets in the stories, Twilight couldn’t say that their fears were unfounded.

Rainbow frowned and looked away.

“You don’t agree, do you?” Twilight asked.

“You don’t fight with one hand behind your back; that’s tactics one-oh-one,” Rainbow declared. “People make fun of the fact that we need air support and a strike loadout to get anything done, but we hit hard, we hit fast, and we get the job done before anybody has time to die. That’s the Atlesian way, but do we hide away our biggest weapons because we’re scared of what people might do with them?”

“In the stories, they were hunted down for their powers,” Twilight murmured.

“Then stick the Ace Ops on it to keep them safe!” Rainbow cried. “There are other ways to protect someone than just hiding them away.”

“Quis custodet ipsos custodes,” Twilight whispered.

“Come on, Twi, you know I don’t speak clever.”

“Who guards the guards themselves?” Twilight translated. “What if the Ace Ops were the ones who wanted their powers?”

Rainbow pursed her lips together. “That’s… we have to trust somebody!”

“The General seems to disagree, or Professor Ozpin does, anyway,” Twilight replied. “Maybe I won’t ask him. I don’t want General Ironwood to have to lie to me.”

“You don’t know he’ll lie.”

“I can’t imagine he’ll tell me the truth just because I ask,” Twilight responded.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Rainbow suggested. “Maybe… maybe it’s a different group that are hiding these magical girls?”

Twilight snorted. “I think two completely unrelated secret societies would be a little ridiculous, don’t you?”

Rainbow was forestalled from replying to that by a knock on the door.

“Hang on a second,” Rainbow said, motioning for Twilight to stay seated. She got up and crossed the dorm room towards the door. She opened it, said, “No.” And then shut the door again.

Twilight frowned. “Who was that?”

“Wrong address,” Rainbow said.

There was another insistent knock upon the door.

“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked, a touch of sternness entering her voice.

Rainbow huffed. “It’s Bon Bon,” she explained.

“Bon Bon?” Twilight repeated. “What does she want?”

“I don’t care what she wants; I’m not opening this door,” Rainbow said, even as Bon Bon kept on knocking on that same door.

“I’m not sure she’s going to go away,” Twilight pointed out.

“She will,” Rainbow said confidently. “Eventually.”

“Or you could-”

“She tried to get Blake expelled,” Rainbow said. “And she tried to do it by saying she wanted to kill all the faunus! Am I supposed to just ignore that?”

“Sunset and Blake seem to have forgiven Cardin Winchester,” Twilight pointed out.

“That’s their right; it doesn’t make it my responsibility to do the same,” Rainbow said.

“She might be sorry.”

“That doesn’t make it my job to make her feel better,” Rainbow snapped.

“No,” Twilight murmured. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She hesitated for a moment, then got to her feet. “So why don’t you let me explain that to her?”

“What?”

Twilight gestured at the door, which was still being hammered on by Bon Bon’s fist. “Don’t you want that to go away sooner rather than later?”

Rainbow took a deep breath and then rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she said, walking back to the bed and sitting down heavily upon it, crossing paths with Twilight on the way as the latter approached the door.

Twilight took a moment to smooth out her skirt for no particular reason before she opened the door, revealing that it was indeed Bon Bon on the other side. She was wearing her Beacon uniform, even though it was Sunday, and as soon as she saw Twilight, a sheepish smile spread slowly across her face.

“Hey, Twilight,” she said softly, tremulously, her wide eyes making her face look strained. “How are you doing, after… you know?”

“Why do you care?” Rainbow loudly demanded from where she sat.

Twilight ignored that. “I… I’m okay,” she lied.

Bon Bon started to try and peer around the door, but seemed to think better of it. “I know that this might seem strange to believe, but I never stopped considering myself your friend,” she said. “Both of you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it!”

“I thought you didn’t want to speak to her?” Twilight said, some asperity creeping into her voice.

“I don’t; she’s just making it hard not to,” Rainbow replied.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Bon Bon murmured. She hesitated. “Correction, I really deserved that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash,” she said more loudly. “I shouldn’t have done what I tried to do to Blake, and I certainly shouldn’t have said what I said. I… I screwed up.”

“You screwed up?” Rainbow repeated, getting off the bed and striding over to the door. “You screwed up?! You suggested that we should all die, and you call that screwing up?”

“I never said it was a little screw up,” Bon Bon offered.

A wordless growl rose up from Rainbow’s throat.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Bon Bon insisted. “I’m sorry about what I did; I’m sorry for getting so jealous about Blake, about you; I’m sorry about what happened to Twilight; I just… I want to make this right. What do I need to do to prove to you that I… does it really need to be said that I don’t actually want to commit genocide?”

“I don’t know, doesn’t it?” Rainbow said.

“I was just saying that,” Bon Bon said. “I just wanted to get a reaction out of Blake.”

“You got a reaction alright,” Rainbow muttered.

“Come on, Rainbow Dash, how long have you known me?” Bon Bon demanded. “Is one mistake enough to erase all that?”

“It was quite a mistake,” Twilight pointed out.

“I know,” Bon Bon groaned.

“Bon Bon,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry, but this… this isn’t really the best time. And I know that sounds like I just want to get rid of you, but it’s true.”

“Right,” Bon Bon murmured. “Maybe later then?”

Twilight smiled. “Maybe later.”

Bon Bon nodded. “I suppose I can’t expect you to forgive me just like that, can I?” She lingered, nonetheless. “I… I really am glad you're okay,” she said. “You don’t… I’m glad. I won’t take up any more of your time.” She stepped away as Twilight gently shut the door.

“She seemed sincere,” Twilight remarked.

Rainbow snorted.

“Maybe-”

“Twi,” Rainbow said, stopping her with a single word. “Don’t. I know that you mean well, but you don’t understand this.” She paused. “No one will ever talk about you that way, about humans that way.”

“Are you sure about that?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Okay, nutjobs in the White Fang, maybe, but you know what I mean: Bon Bon talked about wiping out the faunus, and she gets to walk around Beacon attending classes like it was nothing. If I said I wanted to kill all the humans, then it wouldn’t matter why I said it; I’d get tossed on my ass faster than you can say ‘toss that faunus out on her ass.’”

“General Ironwood-”

“Wouldn’t be able to protect me, even if he still wanted to,” Rainbow insisted. “Twilight, you’re my best friend, but this is one of those times where you don’t know what it’s like to be me. And you never will.”

Twilight held her piece, at least momentarily, and when she spoke again, she didn’t dispute Rainbow’s point, but rather said, “It sounds as though she wants to do better.”

“Good for her, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with her while she finds her way to being a decent person,” Rainbow said. “I’m allowed to put myself first and only hang out with the people that I like.”

“Yes,” Twilight allowed. “Yes, you are, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to seem-”

“You didn’t,” Rainbow assured her. “It’s fine, I just… don’t want to talk about Bon Bon right now.”

“Okay,” Twilight agreed. “Not another word.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “Really?”

Twilight covered her mouth with one hand, giggling slightly as with the other hand she opened the door yet again.

Neptune Vasilias stood on the other side, in his shirt, tie, and white jacket, and as soon as the door opened, he began to lounge upon the doorframe. “Hey,” he said in that smooth, charming voice of his, flashing his teeth in her direction.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Rainbow growled, reaching out for the door to slam it in his face.

“Wait wait wait!” Neptue cried, holding up both hands and placing his foot against the door. “I… okay, that was a mistake. I should have opened a little differently. A little… less cool.”

“You think?” Rainbow replied.

“Although you have to understand, it’s very hard for somebody as cool as me not to be cool,” Neptune said.

Rainbow growled wordlessly.

“Although sometimes, being cool isn’t exactly cool, in the circumstances,” Neptune added. He scratched the back of his head with one. “Can I come in? I promise this will only take a second.”

Twilight stepped back. “Of course. Come on in.”

“Twilight?” Rainbow demanded, aghast.

“It’s fine,” Twilight insisted, gesturing for Neptune to come in. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Thanks, but no, I… I don’t want to intrude,” Neptune explained as he stepped in. Rainbow shut the door after him with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Neptune glanced at it over his shoulder, before returning his attention to Twilight. “So… how are you?”

Twilight sighed. “Is everyone going to ask me that?”

“You did get attacked,” Neptune pointed out.

“Isn’t that a hazard of being a student huntress?” Twilight replied.

“Not in the middle of school, it isn’t,” Neptune pointed out. “Besides… is it going to sound really insulting if I say you seem like the kind of girl who ought to be protected?”

“It probably is a little insulting,” Twilight allowed. “But I’m not insulted. I think it’s quite sweet, really.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Or at least, that’s what I would have said before-”

“Before I turned you down for the dance?” Neptune asked. “Yeah, that… that wasn’t cool of me. And that’s what I’m doing here. I know that it’s over, don’t worry, but… I’m really glad you’re okay, but… I guess I just can’t help feeling that if I’d just gone to the dance with you, then you wouldn’t have been attacked.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. He wasn’t wrong; if she’d been at the dance with him, then she wouldn’t have been at the tower when Cinder was there. Of course, on the other hand, if Twilight had been at the dance with Neptune instead of in the tower, then they would never have found out that Cinder was a servant of Salem – they and Team SAPR would never have found out about Salem – and she would have been able to plant her virus in the CCT with nobody any the wiser until the moment came for her to spring her trap.

In that sense, however frightened she may have been at the time, Neptune had done her a service.

“So why did you do it?” Rainbow asked.

“Huh?”

“Why did you turn down Twilight?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Twilight assured him.

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, you don’t!”

“It’s fine,” Neptune said. “I… this is going to sound really stupid, but… I can’t dance.”

Twilight blinked. More than once. She stared at Neptune through the lenses of her spectacles. “You… you can’t dance?”

“I know, shocking, isn’t it?” Neptune said. “It’s something I try to avoid people finding out about.”

“You didn’t want to go to the dance with me because you can’t dance?”

“Well, there isn’t much other reason to go, is there?” Neptune asked.

Twilight stared at him, for a little while longer, before she failed to restrain the laughter that spilled out of her. She realised, as she clutched her sides, that Rainbow Dash was laughing too, and who could blame her? All of this, from the battle in the tower to their induction into General Ironwood’s inner circle, Cinder’s unmasking, the mission to Mountain Glenn, all of it had happened because Neptune Vasilias couldn’t dance.

If Professor Ozpin hadn’t already told them that there were gods, Neptune might have just proved their existence.

“I didn’t think it was that funny,” Neptune huffed.

“It’s not,” Twilight accepted. “I’m sorry, it’s just that…” She trailed off, thinking about how much she could actually tell him. “It’s just that you’re right: if I had gone to the dance with you, then I wouldn’t have been attacked in the tower, and we would never have found out that Cinder Fall was an enemy in our midst or that she was planning to plant a virus in the CCT network itself.”

Neptune’s eyes widened. “She did?”

“She tried,” Twilight clarified. “It’s been contained. All because of you.” She beamed. “Neptune, because you couldn’t dance, you may have just spared Remnant unimaginable catastrophe.”

“Really?” Neptune gasped. “I mean… really?” A slow smile spread across his face. “Wow. So, does this make me a hero?”

“Let’s not go nuts,” Rainbow said dryly.

Twilight chuckled. “You’ve done something important, even if you didn’t mean to.” She grinned at him and batted her eyes. “Rainbow and I have a mission to prep for, but you know, just because you didn’t take me dancing doesn’t mean that everything has to be over.”

Neptune’s eyes rose. “You mean-?”

“I mean think about it.” Twilight stood on tiptoes to plant a kiss upon his cheek. “I’ll see you around, Neptune Vasilias.”

Neptune stared at her, frozen, unblinking. “Uh, yeah. I mean yeah! I, uh, I will think about that. A lot. And I will see you. Soon! I mean… yeah.” He flashed his teeth at her, but the effect was ruined by the way that he was grinning like an absolute lunatic. And by the way that he bumped into the wall on his way out before finally making his way out of the door, moving like a drunk man all the while.

Rainbow’s eyebrows had disappeared into her bangs as she shut the door. “Really?”

“Why not?” Twilight asked.

“Because he’s Zephyr Breeze with blue hair!”

“He’s not Zephyr,” Twilight replied incredulously. “He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s not as cool as he thinks he is.”

“He doesn’t have to be cool to be a nice guy,” Twilight replied. “Besides, it’s not like I proposed or anything. I like him, and I think we could have some fun; what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Rainbow admitted. “I just don’t know why you pick ‘em.” Rainbow’s scroll began to buzz. “It’s one person after another right now, huh?”

Twilight snorted. “Who is it?”

Rainbow got out her scroll. “Oh, hey, it’s Fluttershy.”

“Ooh, I wonder how she and Applejack are doing?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Rainbow replied. She pressed a button. “Hey, Fluttershy, you’re on speaker.”

“R-Rainbow Dash?” Fluttershy murmured, her voice trembling. “Rainbow Dash, is that you?”

Rainbow frowned. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Fluttershy, and Twi’s right here too. Fluttershy, are you okay?”

“She is, for the moment,” the voice of Cinder Fall drawled out of the scroll. “Whether she stays that way, well… that rather depends on you.”

The Strong One (Rewritten)

The Strong One

Gilda hastily strapped her two swords across her back as she followed Adam towards the northeast gate. As he walked – and as their escort of warriors walked – so she walked too, forbidding herself the freedom of the air in order to keep pace with the leader of the chapter.

It wouldn’t look good if she was seen to be racing ahead of him, not when he already had doubts about her loyalty.

And what good would it do, in any case? She couldn’t make any decisions until Adam arrived.

Not to mention, she didn’t want to be around Cinder Fall longer than she had to. She did not like that woman.

She wasn’t sure whether Adam didn’t see the fact that she didn’t give a rat’s ass for the White Fang or their cause, or he saw but didn’t care so long as they could help one another out. Sure, she might have powers, she might even be able to get things done, but it was hard for Gilda to get past the fact that, well, she didn’t give a rat’s ass.

She might be a lost soul, like so many of them, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t leave them all to die in order to get what she really wanted.

Suffering didn’t make you a saint; quite the opposite, in fact. Gilda knew that all too well from personal experience. She hated the fact that Dashie had chosen her human friends over her didn’t change the fact that she absolutely understood why. And it wasn’t the luxury either, it wasn’t the allure of the Atlas life, no, that would have been too easy to blame; Rainbow Dash wasn’t the kind to get her head turned by stuff like that.

No, Dashie had chosen her human friends because her human friends were more pleasant to be around than a bitter faunus with a shoebox full of White Fang pamphlets and a chip on her shoulder.

Gilda hated the choice that she’d made, but she didn’t blame Dashie for it.

If half the stories that she’d told were true, then it was the obvious choice.

Anyway, the point was that just because Cinder Fall had suffered the way that the faunus had suffered didn’t mean she wasn’t going to stab them in the back.

That woman’s eyes were cold and dead and had no mercy in them. If the time came to sell the White Fang out, there was no way that she was going to hold back out of anything like compassion.

Gilda wasn’t even sure she had any.

These thoughts consumed her as the group made their way towards the gate. She said nothing to anyone, and Adam seemed fine with that, considering that he said nothing to her either. He just walked, silently, and the mask helped make his face expressionless so that nobody could see what he was thinking.

Gilda, who was still wearing her cheap shades instead of a mask – she couldn’t see properly with the mask on; the eyeslits were too small, and so she almost never bothered with it – doubted that she was so hard to read. If everything that she was thinking wasn’t written on her face in marker pen, then she’d be very surprised.

What was Cinder doing here? They weren’t supposed to be ready to go yet for months, not until the Vytal Festival, and Cinder was supposed to be at Beacon. She’d only come to Mountain Glenn once before; when she first arrived back in Vale, she’d checked on their progress. Afterwards, she had made it seem as though she wouldn’t be coming back.

And that had been fine by Gilda. She didn’t know what had made Cinder change her mind. Did she think they weren’t working fast enough? That was ridiculous; the mine was ready with months to spare! What did she think that she was going to add by showing up now and throwing her weight around?

Hopefully, that was all she wanted to do: remind everyone that she was boss and then go.

If not, then persuading Adam to change his mind about this madness just got a lot harder.

They moved through the city on foot, and none of the grimm who infested this awful place interfered with them in any way. Sometimes, Gilda heard them, or thought she heard them: growls or the scraping of claws on concrete, but she didn’t see them. She certainly wasn’t attacked by them.

It was Cinder’s power, her creepy affinity with these monsters. They were kept safe, under her protection.

Gilda hated it.

They reached the gate, guarded like the eastern gate had been by a section of White Fang troops. Some of those guards were clustered around the open gate itself, where a car was parked a little way beyond by the side of the road leading into the city.

Cinder stood before the vehicle, and with her were all three of her lackeys and two more humans that Gilda hadn’t seen before, and who didn’t look as though they were there voluntarily.

And a dog, with its tongue hanging out.

Adam quickened his step, forcing Gilda and the other guys to move faster to keep pace with him as he strode down the road and out the gate towards their ‘partner.’

Cinder slunk towards him. “Adam,” she purred. “How nice of you to roll out a welcoming committee for us.”

“Cinder,” Adam growled, and it gave Gilda hope that he didn’t seem remotely pleased to see her. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Situations change, and our plans must change accordingly,” Cinder replied casually. “My associates and I will be staying here for a few days, at least until the enemy scouts arrive.”

“'Scouts'?” Gilda repeated. “What scouts? Why would the humans be sending scouts here?”

Cinder shrugged. “Because I told them that they’d find us here, obviously.”

“What?!” Adam snapped.

His hand didn’t reach for the hilt of his sword, but Gilda had already drawn both her blades, the sunlight glimmering upon the metal as she levelled them both, point first, at Cinder. “Guns up!” she snapped to their escort. “Take aim!”

One of her minions, the little girl with the green hair, had drawn her own guns, while the faunus – whom Gilda thought was almost as much a traitor to their kind as Dash – settled into a fighting stance as lightning started to crackly up and down her arms.

Cinder, however, made no move to produce her weapons. She smiled and said, “Emerald, Lightning, calm down; we’re amongst friends here, aren’t we, Adam?”

“You sold us out!” Gilda snarled. “You’re no friend of ours, you never—”

“Gilda,” Adam said. “That’s enough.”

Gilda’s eyes widened. “Boss, she-”

“I said, that’s enough!” Adam snapped. He hesitated, and his hand strayed momentarily towards Wilt, before he said, “Explain.”

“It has become necessary to accelerate the timetable of the attack,” Cinder declared. “We can’t wait for the Vytal Festival now. I don’t know exactly how long it will take for our enemies to organise themselves, but I think they’ll move quickly. Can you get the train ready to move by tomorrow?”

'Tomorrow'? Hell no, no way am I going to be able to talk sense into the boss by then!

“I can,” Adam allowed. “But why should I? What is the reason for this?”

“Circumstances-”

“Circumstances may require me to slice you open if you don’t explain,” Adam snarled. “You can’t simply show up here, announce that you’ve revealed our position to our enemies, and then expect me to take your instructions on trust! What is going on?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. The smirk, Gilda was glad to see, had slid off her face, replaced by a sullen look like she’d just been caught spraying graffiti by a cop. She held her peace for a long while, long enough to tell Gilda that she had some bad news but not quite long enough for Adam to actually draw his blade on her before she admitted, “Fortune has not favoured us. My cover at Beacon has been exposed.”

“So you’re on the run,” Gilda said. “And you’ve come to us because you’ve got nowhere else to go.”

Cinder ignored her.

“That explains your presence,” Adam said. “It doesn’t explain why we need to move early, and it certainly doesn’t explain why you revealed our location to our foes.”

“What is the reason to delay?” Cinder asked. “The mine is ready, is it not?”

“It is,” Adam allowed.

“Your men are ready, and eager?” Cinder demanded. “You have the weapons that I supplied to you?”

“And which we got for ourselves,” Gilda growled.

Adam ignored her too, as he said, “True.”

“Then why wait?” Cinder asked.

“When you proposed this plan, you said that the heightened emotions of the Vytal Festival-”

“We cannot afford to wait for the Vytal Festival!” Cinder snapped. “Our enemies know who I am. They will be looking for me. Looking for all of us.”

“They might not have thought to look here until you told them to,” Gilda said.

Cinder smirked, and she had the audacity to chuckle at Gilda. “Oh, Goldie-”

“Gilda,” Cinder growled.

“Of course,” Cinder said blithely. “If you don’t understand strategy, then perhaps you should refrain from comment. You see, by revealing our location here, I have executed a classic ruse of war. Our enemies, you see, are not completely stupid. They won’t simply take my word as to the location of the White Fang base they have been seeking so assiduously. They’ll send scouts to ascertain that I’m not trying to lure them into some kind of trap, and what will their scouts find here in Mountain Glenn? Their deaths, of course, but also a White Fang base, filled with warriors and weapons and all kinds of dangerous things.” She chuckled again. “And when they report all of that back to General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin, well… all the king’s horses and all the king’s men and all the king’s fancy airships too will come roaring down out of Vale to assault us here, even as you pass beneath them to take Vale, which will be completely undefended.” Her smile widened, sharpening as it did so, becoming less like a smile and more like the baring of fangs. “Now, isn’t that a prize worth accelerating our efforts for?”

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. It sounded tempting, for sure. In the same way that someone promising to give you a share in their fortune if you send them your bank details sounded pretty tempting as well, until you thought about it for a minute. “Since that’s your plan, I guess you didn’t manage to set their tech up to turn against them at the right moment?”

Cinder glared at her for a moment. Gilda glared right back.

What, are you upset that I’m not convinced? Bite me!

“It hardly matters,” Cinder said. “Since they will be here, and you will be there.”

“Us?” Gilda said. “But not you?”

“Vale is yours; I care not for it,” Cinder said. “Do with it as you will; I will not interfere. I would never dream of taking a share in your glory.”

“Or our peril?” Gilda demanded. “That sounds like a fancy way of saying you’ll land us in the fire but don’t have the guts to go near it yourself! Boss, I need to speak to you, alone.”

Adam was still, and silent. For a few seconds, he did not respond. Abruptly, he turned towards Gilda. “Wait here,” he snapped at Cinder, as he strode towards Gilda, and then walked past her, striding away from the road.

Gilda kept pace with him, and as she walked she unfurled one wing to drape across Adam’s back so that Cinder couldn’t see what they were talking about so easily.

“Let me guess, you’re going to speak truth to power to me some more,” Adam muttered.

“Adam, I know that you don’t want to hear this, but you have got to call this off, right now!” Gilda insisted. “With the enemy on their way, we need to start clearing out right away if we’re to be gone before they arrive.”

Adam turned his head towards her. “You want us to run?” he demanded. “You want us to stick our tails between our legs and flee?”

“It’s what we do when they find us; we move on-”

“I know it’s what we always do!” Adam cried. “Haven’t I explained to you that I am sick and tired of doing what we have always done, of fighting as we have always fought, of dying like rats as we have always died!?”

“We might not die like rats, but we’ll die anyway once the Atlesians arrive,” Gilda hissed.

“We won’t be here when the Atlesians arrive; we’ll be behind them.”

“Adam, you know that’s a load of bull,” Gilda insisted. “You have to see that. You don’t seriously think they’re going to send all their forces here to Mountain Glenn and leave it so we can just walk into Vale, do you? Our people in the city counted eight Atlesian cruisers, plus support ships and attack squadrons. They can send… they can send half here to Mountain Glenn and still have troops in Vale, plus the Valish. And even if I’m wrong, even if they are dumb to send everybody here, they’ll still turn back as soon as they realise that we’re there instead!”

“If we can occupy their defences, turn their weapons against them-”

“This isn’t going to go the way you want it to!” Gilda yelled. “This… Adam, I know that you want this to be the last battle. I want that too, it’s what we all want, for this to be over, our struggles rewarded, but this isn’t it. The Atlesians are fully armed and operational, they know where we are, and if they haven’t figured out the plan yet, it’s only because the plan is so insane that they haven’t even considered that we’d be nuts enough to try it! We don’t have enough rolling stock to mount all our forces.”

“Oh, Adam?” Cinder called. “There’s something that I forgot to mention; it slipped my mind, I’m afraid,” – she let out a little titter – “the person I gave the message to about your whereabouts was Blake’s new best friend, Sunset Shimmer, while these two guests of mine, these lost sheep I found wandering across Vale, are friends of Blake’s new partner, Rainbow Dash. So when I say that our enemies will send scouts to ascertain our whereabouts, I suppose I what I really mean is that-”

“Blake will be here,” Adam said, his voice a whisper charged with anticipation. It became a growl, anger mixed with desire. “She will come, and those who took her away from me will come, those for whom she betrayed me, the Atlesian dog and the little pony, the traitors to our race! You will bring them here and deliver them into my hands?”

Cinder smiled. “And here, they will find only death.”

No, Gilda thought. No, boss, please don’t go for this, please, not just because of this! “Adam,” she said. “This is bigger than-”

“Yes,” Adam said. “It is bigger. It is so much bigger than you or I. At stake is nothing less than the future of our people. I know, everyone here knows, that this will be desperate and dangerous. They know that for many, it will be their last battle. But none of them need to be told what is expected of them because they are all willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to achieve victory and the freedom of our kind. The question is: are you?”

Gilda stared at him. Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed. “Yes,” she said softly.

“Good,” Adam replied. “Then follow my orders. The time for speaking truth has passed. The time for courage and obedience has arrived.” He turned away from her, leaving her to watch his back as he walked back towards Cinder and the others.

This would not end well. Gilda knew in her bones that this would not end well. And yet, there was nothing that she could do about it, not now. It was too soon, too soon to persuade Adam, too soon to persuade the rest to go against Adam; too soon. All too soon.

Too soon to do anything but watch the White Fang die in the fire.

Too soon, maybe, to do anything but die alongside them.

“So,” Adam said, “what do we do with these two?”

They were quite different, Gilda saw, these friends of Rainbow Dash. One of them was strong, athletically built, with muscles visible upon her arms. She was also the one with a gag in her mouth, the one restrained, the one who looked as though she wanted to tear every last one of them apart with her bare hands.

The other one was more slender, more feminine, slight and willowy and looked like you could knock her down with a breath of wind. Her eyes were wide with fright. Her whole body was trembling.

Fluttershy? She looks like a Fluttershy. I never wanted to see any pictures of Dashie’s friends, but she definitely looks like a Fluttershy. Which would make the other one… tough-looking, cowboy hat… Applejack!

“Secure them both,” Cinder commanded, “and then I need to let Rainbow Dash know that I’ve got her friends.” She laughed. “After all, what use is bait if the person you’re baiting doesn’t know about it?”

“We can’t get a signal out here,” Gilda said.

The look Cinder gave her was downright contemptuous. “Oh, I’ll get a signal,” she assured Gilda, as she began to type in the number.

Dashie’s number.

Gilda was about to hear Dashie’s voice.

And Dashie was about to hear that this psycho had her friends.

Gilda shut her mouth and resolved not to speak.

She really didn’t want Rainbow Dash to know that she was a part of this.

She wished that she wasn’t a part of this.

“Fluttershy,” Rainbow managed to get the word out, to force it out past her shock and her fear. “Fluttershy… is that right? Are you okay? Have… have they hurt you?”

“No,” Fluttershy said. “No, I… I’m not hurt. I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Rainbow would have laughed if the situation had been any less grim. “What do you have to be sorry about? Listen, Fluttershy, I have to ask you something. Is… is Applejack with you?”

Rainbow heard a mumbled shouting sound coming from out of her scroll.

“Your other friend can’t come to the phone right now,” Cinder said smugly. “She’s a little… tied up at the moment.”

A bestial growl rose from Rainbow’s throat. “You little-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Rainbow Dash,” Cinder snapped. “Not unless you want your little friend here to suffer from any irritation that you might cause me.” She sighed. “There was a part of me that wanted Sunset to come alone to me at Mountain Glenn, although I knew she wouldn’t. And then, on my way, I stumbled across these two. Rather careless of you to let your friends wander around Vale at a time like this, don’t you think?”

“Let her go,” Twilight begged. “Please, you can hate us if you want to, but please, let Fluttershy go. She’s not a huntress, she’s not with the Atlesian military, not really. She’s an innocent in all this. Please, if you have any pity in your heart at all, you’ll let her go and give her back to us.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “In ancient times, there was a king who came to a river,” Cinder said, “where he saw all the fish swimming in the river, their scales glistening in the sunlight. The king sat down and took out his flute and began to play a song, but the fish took no notice whatsoever; they simply kept on swimming along. So the king took a net and dragged it through the water until it was overflowing with fish, whom he dumped upon the ground and watched them flapping their fins desperately in the air. ‘It is all very well you dancing now,’ the king told them, ‘but the time for that was when I was playing my flute.’” She chuckled. “It’s a little to late appeal to my mercy when you have chased me out of Beacon and had me branded a criminal.”

Had you branded? Chased you out? It’s not like we framed you or anything. Rainbow kept silent, her jaw clenched, her magenta eyes fixed on Twilight. She didn’t dare speak, she didn’t dare say anything that would provoke Cinder into harming Fluttershy or Applejack.

“And yet, despite the wrongs that I have suffered, the ills and hurts in which the soldiers of Atlas and you two in particular have played some part, I am not without compassion,” Cinder continued. “I take it Sunset has told you where I am.”

“Mountain Glenn,” Twilight whispered.

“Indeed,” Cinder said. “I’m a little disappointed that she isn’t coming on her own, but not too much. But if I must suffer Pyrrha’s company, then I can ensure there is room at the feasting table for you. If you want your friend back, you’ll come find me here. Don’t take too long, though. The White Fang aren’t particularly fond of Atlesians, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to… restrain them.”

Twilight gasped. “You… you’re a monster.”

“I am what I have been made, as we all are,” Cinder said.

“Fluttershy, Fluttershy, listen to me,” Rainbow said. “And Applejack too, can you hear me? I am going to get you out of there. I am going to get you both out of there, and we’ll go back to Sugarcube corner and see what Pinkie’s cooked up while we’ve been gone.”

“Aww, now isn’t that sweet,” Cinder said. “You’d better-”

“Don’t!” Fluttershy cried. “Rainbow, Twilight, don’t come, it’s a trap! They’re going to-” She collapsed into wordless shrieking, howling incomprehensibly as they must have gagged her too.

“Fluttershy!” Rainbow yelled. “I swear, I swear if you hurt either of them, then I will-”

“What?” Cinder demanded. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

“I don’t,” Rainbow growled. “But if you hurt them, I’ll break your bones and see you burn. I swear.”

“Fire doesn’t frighten me, Rainbow Dash,” Cinder declared. “I know it far too well.

The line went dead.

“Fluttershy?” Twilight asked, her voice trembling. “Applejack?”

Rainbow roared as she struck the dorm room wall with her fist, making Twilight gasp in shock. “I’ll kill her! If she’s harmed one hair on either of their heads, I’ll kill her. I… I…”

Rainbow couldn’t think. She couldn’t express the anger that she was feeling. She couldn’t express the desire that she felt to rip Cinder Fall into pieces. She couldn’t express the fire that was burning inside of her, raging like an inferno, howling like a tempest, snarling like a beowolf. She couldn’t express it, and she couldn’t do anything with it. All that she could do was let it eat her up as she stood with her head bowed and her fist pressed against the plaster of the wall.

Applejack… Fluttershy… I’m so sorry.

What am I supposed to tell Apple Bloom?

What am I supposed to tell our friends?

What am I supposed to do?

How am I supposed to save you?

What do I do now?

How do I protect you when you’re so far away?

How do I bring you back when I don’t know where you are?

What do I do now?

“Rainbow Dash… please look at me,” Twilight begged.

Rainbow looked at her. Twilight's eyes were huge behind her glasses, huge and brimming with water at the bottom as the tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Don't do this," Twilight begged. "You don't have to do this."

Rainbow frowned as she straightened up. She ran one hand through her prismatic hair.

"What am I doing that I don't need to do, Twi?" she asked hoarsely. "Because from where I stand, it doesn't look like I'm doing anything to help our friends right now."

"That!" Twilight cried. "You don't have to do that; you don't have to blame yourself-"

"Who should I blame?"

"I don't know, Cinder?!" Twilight snapped. "The White Fang? The people who are holding Fluttershy and Applejack for who knows why-"

"I know why," Rainbow replied. "You heard Cinder, you heard Fluttershy; it’s revenge. Revenge for what we did, for the fact that we beat her; it’s a trap so that she can get us where she wants us."

"That doesn't make it your fault," Twilight repeated. "They did this, not you. You don't have to take this on your shoulders, you don't have to keep it to yourself, you don't have to… You're not the only one who cares about Applejack and Fluttershy."

Rainbow stared into Twilight's teary eyes for a moment, the prick of guilt joining the anger that she felt rolling like the waves inside of her. She sighed. "I know," she whispered. "And I… I didn't mean to… I'm sorry, Twi."

"I know that I'm not a great warrior like you, but they're still my friends,” Twilight insisted. “They're still a part of my life; they're still a part of my heart. And I want to help you get them back. I can help you. And Ciel and Penny and Blake and Sapphire can help too. You don't have to do this all by yourself. You don't have to feel it all by yourself. You don't have to be the strong one all the time."

Rainbow snorted, a wry smile making a momentary appearance on her face. "Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't."

"I do," Rainbow repeated, more firmly this second time. "I do because… because if I'm not that, then what am I, Twilight?

"I'm not super smart. I don't have a big heart with room for the whole wide world, I don't put smiles on people's faces when I walk down the street. I'm not generous, I'm not kind. But I have my strength and my speed, and I can fight the battles that no one else can; that's who I am. That's what I bring. I'm the one who takes the bullet; I'm the one who goes back again and again until everyone's safe. And if I'm not that… if I'm not that, then what am I? If I'm not that, then why would you even want me around?"

Twilight was silent, her mouth forming an O of surprise, her eyes having gotten even wider, if that were possible, until they seemed to be taking up most of her face.

"Is that," she murmured. "Is that what you think?" Her voice rose, growing higher and more shrill with anger. "Is that why you think we hung out with you?! Is that what you think you are to us, some kind of bodyguard?!"

"Twi-"

"Quiet! If Pinkie were here, she would be kicking your ass so hard right now!" Twilight snapped. "So what if you're not smart? So what if your heart's not as open as Pinkie's is? You've got other things, things that are just as important. We all know that even if the entire rest of Remnant turned on us, we could count on you to stay by our sides. You're not our fighter, you're not our protector; you're our friend, and we love you. You're a part of all of us, just like we're all a part of you. You don't always have to be our strength. Sometimes… sometimes, we can be yours."

Rainbow said nothing. Shame doused – at least partially – the anger that had been burning up inside her. She had… she hadn’t really believed it, not most of the time, but sometimes… sometimes, she’d wondered why they all wanted to be friends with someone like her.

“The system works, G.”

“The system works for you, you mean! You with your rich human friends and your fancy connections. I’ve never had dinner with the great General Ironwood. I don’t have friends who have a sister-in-law on the council; how well do you think the system is working out for me?”

“Don’t bring my friends into this; I’ve never-”

“You think they’re really your friends? Do you really believe that? You’ll never be nothing but a faunus to them! I bet they only hang out with you so that they can brag at parties about how totally not-racist they are because one of their best friends is a faunus!”

Rainbow shuddered. That was the last time that she’d spoken to Gilda until the fight on the train; she’d been so mad that she had stormed out of Gilda’s house and never come back, because as far as she was concerned, there wasn’t anything more to say between them…but she wouldn’t have gotten so mad if what Gilda said hadn’t struck a nerve, planted a seed that had stuck with her all these years: why did they want to be her friend?

She felt ashamed now to have ever considered it. Of course it wasn’t what she’d been afraid of. They were all too good for that, too pure, too full of friendship to ever do something like that.

They were all parts of her heart… which is why it would have hurt so much to learn that she wasn’t part of theirs.

Rainbow held out one hand. “I’m sorry, Twi.” She smirked. “But come on, like Pinkie could ever kick my ass.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, I know. Don’t tell her I said that. Not about the ass-kicking, about-”

“I get it,” Twilight said. She took Rainbow’s hand. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow said. She smiled briefly. “So, how do we save our friends?”

“You’ll need to find them first,” Twilight replied. “Fortunately, I can help with that.”

Rainbow frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I put a tracking device in Fluttershy’s hair clip,” Twilight explained. “Once I activate it… at this range, I could only confirm that she is in Mountain Glenn, but once I put the locator app on your scroll, then you’ll be able to pinpoint her position once you get close enough, like inside the city.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You put a locator… in Fluttershy’s hair clip? The butterfly?”

“That’s right,” Twilight said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Rainbow grinned. “That’s our Twilight,” she declared. “Although… when did you manage to do this?”

“It was just something I threw together when they came to visit and I found out where they were planning to go. I mean, they were going to traipse through the wilderness of Vale; I wanted to be able to find them if they didn’t come back in time!”

“I’m not judging you, don’t worry,” Rainbow assured her. “Once you turn it on, will Cinder and the White Fang know about it?”

Twilight hesitated. “I… I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought they were that technologically sophisticated, but they did almost hack the CCT. I don’t know.” She frowned. “What do you think?”

Rainbow considered it for a moment. “Wait,” she said. “When we get to Mountain Glenn, and you’re in position with Team Tsunami, then activate it. It won’t do us much good until then anyway.”

“And if they’re not in Mountain Glenn?”

“They’re in Mountain Glenn,” Rainbow declared.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she wants us there,” Rainbow said. “And I’m not sure she’d risk us finding out that they were somewhere else. And because she’s arrogant enough to give us a chance to rescue them.”

Twilight nodded. “I hope you’re right about that.”

“I hope I’m right too,” Rainbow whispered. “I should tell the General about this.”

“Right, and when you do, can you ask him if I can have an AK-200 body?” Twilight asked. “He won’t be getting it back, to be clear.”

“What do you want a Knight for?”

“To help you,” Twilight answered. “The best way that I know how.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: A fair few changes to this chapter, notably it's place in the story order and the location of Beacon rather than on an airship. Also some Gilda stuff.

Friends of Rainbow Dash (Rewrite)

Friends of Rainbow Dash

Gilda found herself surprised by how pissed off hearing the rage in Rainbow Dash’s voice made her.

Even more surprisingly, that anger wasn’t directed at Rainbow Dash.

Maybe it ought to have been. Maybe listening to Rainbow fulminate over a pair of humans, Atlesian humans what was more, ought to have been the thing to make her furious. But it didn’t. It made her sad because she’d missed that anger. She’d missed having that anger on her side. She’d missed having the rock-solid certainty of Rainbow Dash behind her, of knowing that no matter what happened, no matter what got thrown at them, no matter what the world did to them or didn’t do for them, Rainbow Dash would have her back.

She might have found a cause in the White Fang, but she hadn’t found a friend half so loyal as Rainbow Dash, and being reminded of that – being reminded of what it meant to have Rainbow Dash on your side, someone who would be protective of you no matter how much you needed it, who would be rendered furious at any injustice done to you or threat made against you – made her sad.

Having to stand silently in this dark room in this dead city and listen to Cinder Fall threaten their prisoners all for the sake of getting a rise out of Rainbow Dash made her angry.

As it went on, as the human who held the whip-hand over them as firmly as any Mistralian overseer in the bad old days only grew more and more smug, and more and more vicious, it became an increasing struggle for Gilda to both hold her tongue and keep her swords restrained.

By the time that Cinder implied that she wouldn’t be able to ‘restrain’ the White Fang for very much longer if Rainbow and company didn’t walk into the trap soon, it was only Adam’s presence that was keeping Gilda from announcing herself and doing something drastic.

She couldn’t believe that Adam could stand there, arms folded, and listen to this in silence. That was the kind of ‘human women aren’t safe around faunus’ crap that the most unapologetically outspoken racists thought but hardly dared to say anymore, and yet, Adam was willing to just stand there and let Cinder play on it without a word of protest.

It wasn’t even that he was angry but keeping it inside. There were none of the telltale signs that Adam Taurus was losing his temper; that mask hid half his face, but it couldn’t hide his jaw, the expression of his mouth, the way his hand strayed towards the hilt of Wilt whenever he was fantasising about chopping someone in half with it. There was none of that now. He just didn’t seem to care that much.

Gilda cared. She cared as she listened to the horrified anger in Rainbow’s voice; she cared as she listened to Cinder threaten Rainbow’s friends. She cared as Cinder made the White Fang out to be animals restrained only by her human guiding hand.

She cared about everything that she heard in this room, and it was making her mad.

If the call hadn’t ended when it did, she would have done something. That was what she told herself anyway: she would have done something, would have said something, would have let Rainbow know that she was there and that she would protect Rainbow’s friends.

And she would have believed me. Wouldn’t she?

Yeah, she would have believed me because we’re friends.

Kind of friends, anyway.

Rainbow would trust me if I gave my word. She would, because she knows that I’m trustworthy.

Because we’re still friends, after all that’s come between us.

We are still friends. That’s what makes it so hard to hear her voice like that.

The only thing worse than facing off with your best friend across the battlefield was having to entertain the possibility that you might not be the one with the moral high ground.

Gilda told herself that she would have done something if it had gone on longer, but it did not go on, and she did nothing.

She just stood there, in the shadows of this room, until Cinder was done and Rainbow Dash’s voice was gone from it.

Fluttershy, tied to the chair, made a sound that might have been a sob. “Why?”

Cinder looked at her. There was only a single light in the room, and it mostly illuminated the two captives – for Cinder’s benefit, mainly; Gilda had the eyes of a nocturnal predator, and Adam could see pretty well in the dark himself – leaving Cinder herself more in darkness than in light. Yet even in darkness, Gilda could see that her expression was cruel.

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing any of this?” Fluttershy cried. “Why do you want to hurt Rainbow Dash and Twilight?”

“Because they got in my way,” Cinder replied dispassionately. “Before then, it was nothing personal.”

Fluttershy stared at her, and with her back to Gilda, the latter was left to imagine the look of horror on her face. “Is that it? Is that the only reason you have?”

“I have reason enough to do what I do,” Cinder said. “You couldn’t understand my cause even if you tried.”

Applejack struggled against her gag, an incomprehensible mumble emerging from beyond it.

Cinder rolled her eyes. “You can take that out now. Let her have her say.”

Gilda hesitated for a moment, then decided that she’d kind of like to hear what Applejack had to say, and so, she pulled the gag gently out of the other girl’s mouth.

Applejack took a deep breath before she said. “You know what I think? I think if you had a single good reason for any of this, you’d come right out and say it, ‘stead of acting like we couldn’t possibly get you or what makes you.”

“And why would I feel the need to justify myself to you?” Cinder said. “You are held captive at my mercy. Why should I care one whit what you think about me or my motives?”

“Because even animals have a reason for hurting other people,” Fluttershy said. “No living creature kills for sport, but only to survive.”

Cinder laughed. “A lovely sentiment, but quite unrealistic. Humans, being so much more than mere beasts, kill all the time for sport, for vengeance, for power… or simply out of nothing more than cruelty.”

“There ain’t no way you’re gonna get away with this,” Applejack said.

“No?” Cinder asked. “And who’s going to stop me?”

“Rainbow Dash will!” Applejack snapped.

Cinder’s smile widened. “If she survives, Rainbow Dash will do as much to further my plans as anyone, and more than most.”

Your plan to do what exactly? Gilda wondered. Get all of us here killed?

“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?” Applejack demanded.

“Oh, it’s very simple really,” Cinder said. She held out her hand, palm up. A flame appeared there and danced reflected in Applejack’s eyes. “You see, there are certain qualities, certain virtues, that are so very easy to manipulate. Love, for instance. Those who care the most can be induced to do the most terrible things in the name of that devotion.”

“I don’t buy that,” Applejack said. “Not for one red hot minute.”

“No?” Cinder asked, amusement in her voice. The flames leapt higher. “Don’t be so quick to make assumptions about yourself; it’s easy to say that you would pass a test of character which you have not yet been called upon to face. For instance, what if you had a choice between helping me or watching your friend, your innocent friend, Fluttershy get-?”

Now Gilda acted. She stepped forward, placing herself between Fluttershy and Cinder, both hands reaching for the katanas she wore slung across her back. “That’s enough.”

Judging by the way that Cinder looked at her, she had forgotten that Gilda was there.

“Is there a problem?” she asked as she turned to face Gilda.

“They’re prisoners, not playthings,” Gilda declared.

Cinder snorted. “Is there a difference?”

“The difference is me,” Gilda said sharply. “I won’t let you hurt them.”

Cinder cocked her head to one side. “Do you think that you can stop me?”

Gilda drew both her swords with a flourish, the low light dancing off the blades as she settled into a high guard, both swords pointed at Cinder’s heart. She unfurled her wings and spread them out across the room to make herself look bigger, and she prepared to use her semblance if she had to. Swallow Strike wasn’t the strongest or most powerful semblance in Remnant, but it was fast and almost impossible to block. It would give her a surprise if she needed one.

“You don’t scare me, you smirking bitch.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed, though her irritating smirk remained. “Why do you care what happens to a pair of humans?”

“Why do you care what I care about, human?” Gilda countered.

“Because it might jeopardise our operation, if your concern for their lives outweighs your duty.”

“'Duty'? You’re not one of us; you don’t get to come in here and lecture me about my duty when you’re plan is-”

“Gilda,” Adam spoke at last. “That’s enough. Cinder, let it go.”

The flame died in Cinder’s palm. “Are you telling me to do something, Adam?”

“I’m asking you to let it lie, for now,” Adam said. “I trust you can find your own way back to your tent.”

Cinder smiled. “Of course, although I may wish to confer with you again later.” She glanced at the two prisoners. “Girls. I’m so glad to have had the chance to meet you.”

Her glass shoes clicked on the ground as she walked away, closing the door behind her.

Adam stared at Gilda. The mask hid half his face, but even so, Gilda could tell that he was angry. Everything about the way he stood and held himself proclaimed it.

Gilda sheathed her swords and folded her wings up behind her back. “Boss, I-”

“Quiet,” Adam said. “Step outside with me for a minute.”

Gilda swallowed but complied without argument, opposition, or resistance. She followed Adam outside and let him slam the door behind them.

When they stood directly outside, under the rocky ceiling that separated the subterranean undercity from the sky above, Adam rounded on her with a voice as sharp as Wilt’s edge. “What’s going on?”

Gilda took an involuntary step backwards. She swallowed, because her throat was dry. “I owe them.”

“You owe them?” Adam repeated. “What could you possibly owe to them?”

“Rainbow Dash could have killed me,” Gilda explained. “She could have taken me prisoner when the train job went south. But she didn’t. She let me go. I owe her, but if I take care of her friends, then-”

“Rainbow Dash is a dog of the Atlesian military, a traitor no better than…” Adam trailed off, unable to bring himself to say Blake’s name. “And they are humans.”

“So is Cinder Fall, our new leader,” Gilda snapped back at him, irritation at the current state of affairs temporarily proving stronger than her fear of Adam.

“I am your leader,” Adam said, in a voice that was no less intimidating for being quiet.

“Then why is she the one calling the shots no matter how dumb they are?” Gilda demanded. “Why am I the only one who remembers that you don’t go muzzle to muzzle against the Atlesians? Why am I the only one who realises that they’re going to obliterate us from the sky the moment we stick our heads above ground?”

“Then we will die in the fire rather than live in chains!” Adam yelled. A wordless growl escaped his lips. “It’s true that the plan is not what we expected. It is true that the battle will be more desperate than we had anticipated, but have faith!”

“In her?”

“In me,” Adam insisted. “But yes, in Cinder too. Do you really think that I would just place the chapter at the disposal of any human with a silver-tongue and a grand ambition?”

Gilda hesitated for a moment. “You never told us how she convinced you.”

“She showed me things,” Adam declared. “Things that you wouldn’t believe if I tried to describe them. If you had seen what I have seen, Gilda, you wouldn’t be so quick to question Cinder. She has power of a kind the likes of you and I can scarcely conceive of.”

“The grimm,” Gilda muttered. It’s powers like that which worry me, just like it worries me that they impressed you.

“Indeed,” Adam said. “But more than that, so much more. And behind her…”

Gilda frowned. “Cinder… isn’t in charge?” That was news to her, if true. She’d never seen Cinder answer to anyone, nor seen any hint that she did so.

Adam’s face twitched with annoyance. “She can’t be stopped. Atlas can’t stop her. Huntsmen and huntresses can’t stop her. The four kingdoms and all their might can’t stop her. A great change is about to sweep through Remnant, and when it does, all that we have known will be swept away until nothing is left but… ruins.”

Gilda shivered. She only had to look around her to see exactly what he meant. They were presently based out of the world’s largest tomb, a monument to foolishness and pride in the face of the power of the grimm. The areas in which the White Fang lived and worked and prepared for their attack on Vale had needed to be cleared of dead bodies before they were truly habitable, and their patrols were constantly coming across more remains, more signs of battle, but also food and clothes and weapons and toys and evidence of the lives that had been wiped from this place when the dark tide swept over it. Adam prophesied that the same fate would fall on Vale, but how? How could Cinder, or her master, achieve such things?

“I don’t understand, boss.”

“The faunus will be swept away as well,” Adam said. “Unless we prove ourselves useful. So we will obey her and follow her plan and fight for her-”

“No matter the cost?”

“And we will strike such a blow against Vale and Atlas both that history will record it as the beginning of the end,” Adam declared, ignoring Gilda as though she hadn’t spoken. “And if we have to hurt two spoilt little Atlas girls to do it, then so be it.”

So they were back to that. Back to where they started. “Adam,” Gilda said, hoping that she could call him Adam. “I don’t know what that woman has over you. I don’t know what you know about her or what she’s capable of. And I’m not sure how much I care. I can’t let her hurt them. Or… or you, for that matter.”

“They’re our enemies.”

“Just because we wear monster masks doesn’t make us monsters,” Gilda said. “Only acting like monsters does that.”

“They already think we’re monsters; they always have.”

“We don’t have to prove them right,” Gilda said. “Their friend could have killed me, but she didn’t. I owe her this.”

Adam stared at her for a few moments in silence. “You’re a good fighter, Gilda,” he said. “With so many of my lieutenants having either been imprisoned or… having betrayed our cause, you’re probably the best fighter I have aside from myself. But I’m beginning to worry that you lack the strength to do what must be done.”

The strength to keep my mouth shut and not interfere, you mean? Or the strength to tell you over and over again that you’re making a mistake but it’s not too late to change. Gilda doubted it was the second one; not even Blake had had that kind of strength, in the end. “There are a lot of different kinds of strength… and I’m not sure that I want all of them.”

“Just remember which side you’re on,” Adam snapped. “The justice of our cause is adamant, and nothing that we do will ever rob us of the cloak of righteousness. Keep your prisoners safe for now, but remember that we do what we must for the sake of all our people who suffer under oppression… and remember that you chose your side when you put on the mask.”

He turned away and stalked off in the direction of the train.

Gilda watched him go for a moment. Then she went back inside.

Fluttershy and Applejack hadn’t gone anywhere. How could they? They were shackled to suppress their auras and bound to chairs. Applejack looked as though she might have been trying to loosen her restraints, but she hadn’t managed to do it; without aura, it wasn’t likely that she would.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

“I don’t know if anything’s okay right now,” Applejack muttered. “But… thanks, anyway, for what you did and… for what you’re doin’, I suppose.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’d be interested to know why you’re doin’ it, mind.”

“'Cause you’re Rainbow Dash’s friends,” Gilda said. “And that… I guess that still matters to me.”

“You know Rainbow Dash?” Fluttershy asked.

“I… I used to,” Gilda murmured. “I’m Gilda.”

She got blank looks from both Applejack and Fluttershy. “It’s nice to meet you, Gilda,” Fluttershy said, but without any kind of actual recognition in her voice.

“Gilda?” Gilda repeated. “Gilda Swiftwing? That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“Ought it to?” Applejack asked cautiously.

“Yes, it ought to mean something!” Gilda snapped, her anger not so much for the two girls in front of her but for Rainbow Dash. “I had to sit through so many stories about the five of you whenever Dashie bothered to come home: oh, the girls this and my friends that and there was this one time, at Canterlot. But she never mentioned me to you at all? Not even once? You’re pulling my feathers, right?”

“No,” Fluttershy murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t the ones who ought to be sorry!” Gilda yelled. “Some friend, huh? When I see her again, I’m gonna-” She stopped, struck as if between the eyes by the absurdity of the situation. A bitter laugh passed her lips. “I… I guess it’s a stupid to get mad about at a time like this.”

“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy said. “I think that, if you were close, then Rainbow ought to have mentioned you to us, especially if she mentioned us to you.”

Gilda found herself starting to smile. “Well, aren’t you every bit as nice as Dashie made you out to be?” she said. “But the truth is, I can’t blame Rainbow for what she said. What she didn’t say. I can’t think of a faunus I know who’d talk about their old life if they got lucky enough to fall in with a bunch of rich and fancy humans.”

“We ain’t all rich,” Applejack said. “Even Twilight’s only well-off, and only Rarity’s really what you’d call fancy.”

“You’re better off than we were,” Gilda replied. “So my point stands. Anyone would have done what Dashie did and kept quiet about it, especially the way that we grew up.”

“How did the two of you grow up?” Fluttershy asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Gilda muttered.

“I would like to know more,” Fluttershy insisted. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

Gilda frowned. “Seriously? You want to know about Low Town?”

“I’d like to know where my friend came from,” Fluttershy replied. “You’re right; Rainbow never talks about herself before she met Twilight.”

“Like I said, it’s a faunus thing,” Gilda said. “Stuff that is… normal, for us, it might upset humans to hear. You might get the wrong ideas about her, change your mind about being her friend.”

“We would never do a thing like that,” Applejack said.

“Why not?” Gilda demanded. “Because you’re different? Because you’re special? Because you don’t see race? Rainbow was smart enough to know that she couldn’t afford to take a risk like that. Especially…” She trailed off.

“Especially what?” asked Fluttershy gently.

Gilda scowled. “Rainbow and me, we… we didn’t exactly… I said some things that were… well, I was an asshole, that’s the long and the short of it. I told her that you really didn’t give a damn about her. That you were just using her, playing nice and not-racist and showing how wonderful you were. I reckon I must have touched a nerve, because she got real pissed off about it, stormed out of the house, and I didn’t see her again… not until we were facing one another across the battlefield.”

“But you still think of her as your friend?” Fluttershy asked.

“I’m not the one who ended it,” Gilda said. “She walked away.”

“On account of what you said,” Applejack pointed out.

“I was angry, okay!” Gilda snapped. “I was losing my best friend, and I hated it, and it made me say something stupid. It didn’t mean I didn’t like her anymore. If I didn’t like her, it wouldn’t have bothered me that she spent so much time with you and wouldn’t stop talking about you and-”

Fluttershy threw Gilda off with an unexpected question. “Would you like her number?”

“Huh?”

“Would you like her number?” Fluttershy repeated. “Maybe you could get back in touch again. I’m sure that Rainbow Dash would like to hear from you again.”

“Are you? I’m not,” Gilda muttered. “Just because I’ve kept you alive doesn’t mean that I’m not still in the White Fang. I’m White Fang; she’s Atlas military. We’re enemies.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends,” Fluttershy replied. “If you want to be.”

Gilda stared at her. “You… you’re really weird,” she said. “But in a good way. I think.” Her stomach rumbled, which reminded her that she should probably feed Applejack’s dog – Emerald had gotten bored with her, which meant that she was Gilda’s responsibility because she doubted that anyone else would take an interest – soon, because the poor girl had to be getting hungry.

Maybe the two girls were getting hungry as well.

Gilda reached into one of the pouches on her black flak vest and pulled out a trio of dessert bars taken from an Atlesian military train during one of their more successful robberies. “You want one?”

Applejack nodded. “We’ll have a bite.”

Gilda sat down on the table near the door. “Okay. Give me a second.” She was the captor after all; there was no reason why she shouldn’t eat first. She unwrapped one of the vacuum packed bars – mocha flavour, apparently – and bit into it. Her face contorted into a cringe as she swallowed the foul tasting thing. “Gah! Do you actually eat these, or is this some kind of joke you play on us: laughing as we steal the crap you’ve made us think is your food?”

“Nope,” Applejack said. “That’s what we get.”

“You don’t even get real candy bars?”

“The candy bars ain’t that great, either.”

“No, they’re not, are they?” Gilda asked, with a slight shudder. Coming to Vale from Atlas, she’d been astonished at how much nicer the chocolate was here; there was just no comparing it. “I’m amazed you haven’t all died from food poisoning.” She forced herself to take another bite, and then another, because she was hungry, and food was food and not to be wasted. Supplies were too scarce to throw things away just because you didn’t like the taste. She felt like she was going to be sick by the time she was done, but she had eaten the whole bar, and so, she could take comfort in a warm glow of good behaviour – that didn’t quite match the indigestive feeling in her stomach. She held up one of the other bars – cherry tart, for whatever it was worth – to Applejack. “You still want this?”

“Fluttershy first,” Applejack said.

Gilda grinned. “You hear that; she wants you to get ill before she does.”

Fluttershy smiled and looked as though she might laugh, but any laughter died before it could get out. Her voice, when it came again, was quiet. “When… when Rainbow Dash gets here… what are you going to do to her? And to Twilight?”

Gilda knelt down in front of Fluttershy and stared up into her face, into eyes that were full of fear, but not for herself. “I don’t know, exactly,” she said, which was partly a lie, and partly the honest and very frustrating truth. “I don’t even know if Cinder knows what she wants. Adam wants to kill Dashie, I must admit, but Cinder… you heard what she said; I think she might want them alive as part of some grand plan. Or maybe not, I can’t understand what she’s thinking. I don’t know what any of us are thinking any more. This whole thing is nuts.”

Fluttershy sighed. “I’d rather… I’d rather die than-”

“Fluttershy, no!” Applejack yelled.

“I don’t want to live knowing that Rainbow Dash died trying to save me, do you?” Fluttershy cried.

Gilda’s eyebrows rose. The declaration itself wasn’t that unusual; indeed, it was so commonplace as to inspire more derision than respect in her. The White Fang was full of people who would loudly state that they would rather die for the cause than surrender to the cops or the huntsmen, but the number who actually did that when given the choice was small at best. But most of the people saying that hadn’t already been caught by the time they said it, like Fluttershy had. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t bravado from her; she didn’t exactly seem the type to boast about how brave she was. Maybe she meant it.

Maybe she was a whole lot stronger than she looked. In some ways, at least.

She unwrapped the cherry tart bar. “Eat up,” she said, pushing it up towards Fluttershy. “Don’t give up yet. One thing I learnt being friends with Rainbow Dash is that it never pays to bet against her.” The fact that she was, in a great many ways, betting against Rainbow right now was one of the many uncomfortable things about this situation.

“You grew up together then, you and Dashie?” Applejack asked as Fluttershy began to eat.

Gilda nodded. “We were inseparable, once upon a time. I know you might not believe it, but it’s true. Even if it does feel like it happened to someone else. Our parents worked together. Well, my parents worked for her parents. Our moms used to take turns walking us to school; we used to hang out at one another’s places.”

“But Rainbow ended up in Atlas, and you didn’t,” Applejack observed.

“I didn’t have the guts to risk sneaking aboard the shuttle,” Gilda explained. “Dashie was always braver than I was.”

“So how’d you end up in the White Fang, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The question you should be asking is how did Dashie not end up in the White Fang,” Gilda said.

Fluttershy swallowed. “Because she’s a good person.”

“Oh, and I’m not?”

“You’ve made some bad choices,” Fluttershy observed.

That struck closer to home than Gilda liked. “The White Fang didn’t always used to be like this.” She sniggered. “Listen to me, I sound old. But it’s true. I joined to fight the good fight, and that’s exactly what I did.”

“Is that right?” Applejack asked sceptically.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Gilda insisted. “None of this 'going to war' crap. None of this gathering like some army. None of these humans walking around like they own the place. You know it’s not the cops in Atlas or Vale that protect the faunus neighbourhoods and keep the crooks and the gangs out; it’s the White Fang. And it isn’t the law that does anything about the assholes discriminating against faunus; it’s the White Fang. And the money that we take from the SDC and the crooked banks, that goes to help faunus who need it.”

“Widow and orphans?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, and guys broken from working down the mines,” Gilda said. “We’re not terrorists; we’re… we’re like a…” What had the person who recruited her called it. It had been a bit of a five-lien word, outside of Gilda’s ordinary range. Hopefully, she could remember it anyway. “We’re a benevolent society. Like insurance.”

Applejack’s eyebrows rose. “Insurance.”

“Yeah, insurance,” Gilda said. “And a neighbourhood watch. And vigilantes. And a few other things as well, but we’re not terrorists. Or we didn’t used to be.” We’re not terrorists now; we’re becoming something worse: soldiers.

And it’s going to get us all killed if we’re not careful.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said aloud.

“What didn’t?” Fluttershy asked politely.

Gilda scowled. “Last time I spoke to Dash, I told her that she was a traitor to her race, not a faunus, for fighting against the Fang. I told her that she was nothing. I wish I hadn’t said that.”

“Then tell her you're sorry,” Fluttershy said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Do you think she’ll want to hear it?” Gilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Fluttershy admitted. “But I think so.” She smiled. “Just like I’d like to hear about you and Rainbow Dash, that is, if you don’t mind?”

Gilda snorted. “You want to hear some stories about the old days?” Since Fluttershy had finished eating, she got up and returned to the table, where the last dessert bar was waiting. “Ooh, bad luck, you get stuck with apple jam.”

“That ain’t apple jam,” Applejack muttered. “I know apple jam, and that ain’t apple jam. I don’t know what that is.”

“Do you want it?”

“Will I get anythin’ else later?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it, no matter how it tastes,” Applejack said. She grinned. “And I wouldn’t mind hearing a couple of those stories, neither.”

“Really?” Gilda asked, unwrapping the bar. “Okay…” she thought about it. “Okay, let’s see… well, there was this one time, when we’d been left at home by ourselves, and we were getting bored. So Dashie decided…”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The chapter title has changed, because calling a chapter 'Gilda' doesn't make a lot of sense when Gilda has quite a few POV sections in other chapter, but other than the gist is the same.

A Gift of Magic (New)

A Gift of Magic

Sunset kept one hand in her pocket, fingertips tapping the phial that she had concealed there, as she knocked on the door to Team RSPT’s dorm room.

There was a pause, before the door was opened by Rainbow Dash.

Sunset’s mouth opened to speak – to ask if Twilight was there, or if not, then where she was – but the words did not emerge. She was, she confessed, taken aback by the look of fury on Rainbow’s face, the way that her mouth was twisted with anger, the way her teeth were bared, the way her magenta eyes burned like boiling blood. It was not an expression that Sunset saw often and not one she really wished to see directed at her.

Certainly not when she couldn’t think why Rainbow would look this way.

She found herself fighting the urge to take a step backwards. “Uh, hey there, Rainbow Dash,” she said, trying to inject some lightness into her voice. “Is Twilight around?”

Rainbow Dash didn’t reply, although the snarl on her face became even more pronounced.

Sunset produced her hand from her pocket and held up both her hands a little. “Okay, why do you look as though you want to kill me?”

Rainbow stepped back, gesturing with one hand, much as she would have gestured with a gun to move a prisoner along.

Sunset was not altogether sure that going in there was wise, in much the same way that a sensible fly might question the wisdom of getting too close to a spider’s web, but… well, it was Rainbow Dash; she wasn’t actually going to murder her, even if she looked as though she might want to.

Plus, Sunset could fight her off if it came to it.

And in any case, if she was going through something serious, it was better for Sunset to find out about it now rather than when the mission was underway tomorrow.

And so, she stepped inside, tail curling up around her legs, and tried not to flinch at how heavily Rainbow slammed the door behind her.

The room was empty. “I see Twilight isn’t here, then,” Sunset murmured, as much to herself as to Rainbow. She kept her hands up as she turned around to face Rainbow Dash once again. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

Rainbow glared at her for a moment, her chest rising and falling, before she managed to growl out the words, “Cinder’s got Fluttershy, and Applejack.”

Sunset stared right back at Rainbow for a moment. “Are you… what do you mean she’s got Fluttershy and Applejack?”

“What the hell do you think I mean?!” Rainbow yelled. “She’s got ‘em! She found them, and she took them, and she’s got them trapped in Mountain Glenn with her!”

Sunset’s mouth hung open, forming an O. Her ears drooped down onto the top of her head. Cinder… it must have been an accident. No, not an accident, that wasn’t the right word, a fluke. It must have been a fluke for her to have stumbled across them, out in the wild lands between Vale and Mountain Glenn. A wicked coincidence. A terrible misfortune. Plain rotten luck. “How… how do you know?”

“She called,” Rainbow snarled. “Cinder called to let us know. She wanted to make sure that we were coming to Mountain Glenn.”

Sunset winced. “I…” She trailed off. She would have liked to say that she hadn’t thought Cinder capable of such a thing, but… that wasn’t really true, not after last night. It would have surprised Sunset to learn it, not too long ago: to learn that Cinder was capable of kidnapping the friends of her enemies and holding them hostage. Not too long ago she would have recoiled from admitting that Cinder could do such a thing. If Jaune had suggested it…

But now that Sunset had seen inside of Cinder’s soul, now that she knew that Cinder had set fire to her stepmother’s house with her stepmother and stepsister inside, now that she knew who Cinder served… it was no longer as surprising as she would have liked it to be.

Equestrian literature had very little concept of the noble adversary; in the Equestrian storytelling tradition, if an enemy had redeeming features, then they were not likely to remain an enemy very long. Those who were flawed or misguided but basically good were redeemed by the friendship of some pure-hearted hero, while those who remained enemies were black-hearted rogues without a single virtue amongst them. Sunset had found it both comforting – no matter how bad you became, so long as you weren’t a literal monster, then you could become a hero – and alienating – if you weren’t a hero, then by the same token you had, almost by default, to be a monster – by turns.

The idea of an enemy who remained your enemy and yet possessed much in them that was admirable and good, that was something that Sunset had only really discovered when she came to Remnant. In particular, it existed in the Mistralian epic tradition, the generous princely foeman exemplified by Sakura of Kuchinashi, who had released all of her captives without a ransom.

She had hoped – a fool’s hope, perhaps, but nevertheless – that Cinder, born of Mistral, aware of its traditions if not steeped in them, might live up to that particular ideal. Sunset had hoped that the chip on Cinder’s shoulder with regard to the Mistralian high society and the arrogance of their elite might drive her to show that she could demonstrate their virtues as well as any of them.

She had hoped that, despite the fact that she was serving a monster out to kill everyone, Cinder might rise above the unfortunate circumstances of their opposition and be someone whom Sunset could, if not call friend, then at least be glad to face across these shadowy battle lines.

Someone whom Sunset could then work to redeem, as heroes so often did in the Equestrian tradition when their enemies were capable of being redeemed.

But now… Sunset mentally confessed herself to be disappointed. It was one thing to know that Cinder had done terrible things, but when Cinder’s own emotions filled her, those things had seemed quite justified, and in any case, they had been done some time ago to people Sunset didn’t know except through Cinder’s highly charged memories. It was another thing to do terrible things now, and to people Sunset knew, if only slightly.

To people that her friends knew a great deal more than slightly.

Sunset’s tail drooped to the floor as she was filled with a great hollow sadness. Why, Cinder? Why are you doing this? I already told you I’d come to Mountain Glenn; was that not enough?

“Rainbow,” Sunset said. “I… I’m sorry.”

Rainbow Dash stared at her. “You… you’re sorry!?” she yelled, drawing back her fist.

Sunset didn’t have time to react before the blow caught her on the jaw, sending her spinning round and crashing into the far wall. As her cheek throbbed in pain, despite the dulling effect of her somewhat dented aura, Sunset told herself that she wouldn’t have done anything even if she had been able to react.

She stood where she was, hands pressed against the wall, leaning against it by one shoulder, taking a breath or two. Slowly, she straightened up and faced Rainbow Dash once again. “Did that make you feel better?”

“No,” Rainbow grunted.

Sunset nodded. “We can keep going, if it will help.” Her aura could take a few more hits, even from Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow glared at her, and for a moment, Sunset expected to be rebuked for daring to pity Dash, but then Rainbow took a step forward, fist cocked back to swing at her again.

Except this second punch didn’t land. As she advanced, Rainbow’s legs gave way beneath her, arms flailing a little so that she didn’t hit Sunset, but rather collapsed into Sunset’s arms as Sunset stepped forward to catch her. Her hands closed around Rainbow’s arms just below the shoulders, and she pulled the Ace of Canterlot forward so that her head was pressed against Sunset’s chest, her cheek against Sunset’s purple top, her hair tickling Sunset’s chin as Sunset adjusted her grip to embrace her.

“I really am sorry,” she murmured, her arms enveloping her fellow leader.

Rainbow’s body shuddered in Sunset’s embrace, wracked by what might have been a sob. “I should have-”

“What?” Sunset demanded. “Teleported? I can’t get that far in a single move; you sure as anything can’t.”

“I should have stopped her!” Rainbow insisted, looking up into Sunset’s eyes. Her own magenta eyes were filled with tears. “Up in the tower, if I’d been able to beat her, if I’d been stronger-”

“Then all our problems would be over, sure,” Sunset conceded, albeit in a tone that was hardly conciliatory. “You could say the same about me, if I’d been able to beat her down on the ground, if I hadn’t been distracted by my semblance, then this wouldn’t be happening right now. But you saved Twilight. You probably saved the CCT. You didn’t fail last night; none of us did.”

“That doesn’t exactly help Applejack or Fluttershy, does it?” Rainbow muttered.

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Sunset replied as she sat Rainbow down on the nearest bed. “But we’re going to get them back. You and me.”

Rainbow frowned. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because it’s you and me!” Sunset exclaimed. “The Ace of Canterlot and a girl so amazing that no mere nickname can encompass the magnitude of my awesomeness.” She grinned. “We have done incredible things, you and I. We have put Adam Taurus, the Sword of the Faunus, to flight in terror of our strength; we have captured Roman Torchwick; you did what no other pilot would dare to do and flew through a whole flock of nevermores to rescue the rest of us.”

“Our teams were with us all those times,” Rainbow pointed out.

“And they’ll be with us again tomorrow!” Sunset declared. “Pyrrha Nikos, Blake Belladonna, how can we despair when such great names as these stand alongside us? Yes, Cinder is strong and cunning, and ruthless besides. Yes, she has escaped us both, bested us even, but we did not fight alongside all our teams then. We did not fight her with our full power. With the likes of our teammates fighting by our sides, have we not cause for hope? Have we not reason to be confident of success when we look at the things we have already done, the things that our teammates have done, the enemies that we have already encountered? We have a sound plan, although I suppose it will need a little alteration, now that we are on a rescue mission.

“When I said that I wasn’t going to let anyone die on this mission, I meant it,” Sunset added. “And that goes for your friends too.” She paused. “Listen, I… I know that my relationship with Cinder makes me suspicious in your eyes, but I promise you that I will not, will never, put her ahead of their lives.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “No?”

Sunset shook her head. “No.”

“You never liked Applejack or Fluttershy,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I didn’t dislike them, except as much as I disliked everyone,” Sunset replied. “But that’s not the point. It doesn’t matter what I think about either of them.”

“If that’s not the point, then what is?”

“I know what it’s like to be completely defined by the handful of people who have your heart,” Sunset said softly. “I know what it’s like for them to be your world, emotionally speaking anyway. I get it, and I don’t need to feel the same way about the same people to… to understand. I’m going to help you. Everyone is going to help you. But we need you to be at your best for this. Fluttershy and Applejack need you at your best.” Sunset paused for a moment. “So are we going to get it?”

Rainbow did not respond straight away. She looked down at her knees before she looked back up at Sunset. But the anger, at least, was gone from her eyes as she looked at Sunset, and it stayed gone as she stood up, for all that her fists were clenched. She was not snarling now; rather, her jaw was set firmly, and her eyes were as hard as rubies.

“Yeah,” she said, in a hoarse voice, “yeah, you’ve got it.” She fell silent. “If I get the chance, I’m going to kill her. You know that, right?”

Sunset said nothing. She couldn’t say what she was thinking, which was that she didn’t want Cinder to die. She really did not wish it. She could come up with reasons for why it should not be so – this wasn’t how they dealt with their enemies in Equestria; Princess Celestia and Equestrian Twilight had encouraged her to try and help – but the fact of the matter was that she just didn’t want Cinder to die.

For all her faults, a world without Cinder in it would be a poorer place.

And yet Sunset could not save her, not now, not after what she had done.

At present, with things being how they stood, she could not even suggest it.

All she could say was, “I understand.” Hopefully, Rainbow wouldn’t demand anything stronger from her.

Rainbow nodded. “I get it too,” she muttered. “But she’s dangerous. You see that, right?”

I do. Maybe I always did, even if I pretended not to. Sunset nodded once again, without speaking.

“Twilight?” she asked softly.

“Right, Twilight, yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “She’s down in one of the workshops, doing… something.”

“Does she know about…?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said at once. “That’s why she’s down in the workshops.”

Beacon had several workshops, mainly for weapons’ maintenance and upgrades, but large enough and well-equipped enough to accommodate larger tasks.

As Sunset found, when she walked into Workshop B to find Twilight with an AK-200 battle droid laid out on the long workbench.

Twilight had removed one of its arms and was attaching in its place a black arm that Sunset vaguely recognised as belonging to the older generation of androids.

“Twilight,” Sunset murmured as she stood in the doorway, wondering if Twilight Sparkle was going to take a swing at her as well.

Twilight said nothing for a moment. She kept on with her work as though Sunset hadn’t spoken. When, at last, she spoke, the words that fell from her lips were nothing like Sunset had expected. “You know, I sometimes think that the AK-200 was a step back from the 130. Yes, the absence of an integrated weapons system gives greater versatility, but there’s something about onboard weapons, don’t you think? They can’t get lost or stolen or knocked out of the hand in the same way. Not least because they are the hand.”

“Twilight,” Sunset said.

“Plus there’s the fact that they were better armoured, too,” Twilight added.

“If they were all that, why were they replaced?” Sunset asked.

“The new models look sleeker,” Twilight replied, a dismissive note in her voice “They seem less threatening to civilians.”

“That’s not hard,” Sunset opined.

“And, of course, they’re more intelligent,” Twilight said. “Of course, that hardly matters.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose, for all that Twilight couldn’t see it. “Intelligence doesn’t matter?”

“Intelligence doesn’t matter for this unit, because I’m going to remove his CPU and insert a drive containing Midnight,” Twilight explained.

Sunset took a step into the workshop. “Who’s Midnight?”

The flashing lights made Sunset aware of a little purple triangular tube sitting on the bench near the sleeping knight’s head. It said, in a voice that sounded like a mechanically-distorted version of Twilight’s voice. “Hello, Stirrer.”

Sunset blinked. “Stirrer?”

“Stirrer,” Midnight repeated. “One who stirs the pot, which is itself a colloquialism to refer to-”

“Midnight, that’s enough for now,” Twilight said quickly. She glanced over her shoulder at Sunset. “Midnight is my VI; she resides in my armour and provides me with tactical support. She’s based on my brain patterns, combined with tactical analysis data from Atlesian historical records… but she seems to have developed a bit of her own personality.”

“Or she’s your personality from when you didn’t like me,” Sunset observed. “I take it that ‘Stirrer’ is a reference to-”

“To the time you tried to convince Rainbow Dash that Twilight was a racist and break up her friends,” Midnight declared. “Very astute of you to make that obscure connection.”

“She’s more sarcastic than you are, as well,” Sunset muttered. “So, you’re going to put her into this knight?”

“Once I’ve made some additional physical upgrades to the body,” Twilight confirmed.

“Rainbow Dash needs a wingman,” Midnight said. “And I’ll have a gun-arm.”

Sunset pursed her lips together. “And this is because…”

Twilight hesitated. “You know?”

Sunset nodded. “Rainbow told me. She wasn’t taking it too well.” She stopped short of telling Twilight that she ought to be up there with Rainbow Dash instead of messing around down here. “What about you? How are you doing?”

“I’m keeping busy, as you can see,” Twilight said swiftly. “Trying to, at least.” She paused. “I can’t go to Mountain Glenn in person and rescue Fluttershy and Applejack, but I can build a way for Midnight to go in my stead. And I know what you’re going to say: Rainbow doesn’t need a robot to help her because she’s got Blake…” Twilight sighed. “Wonderful Blake.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Is that… jealousy?”

“No!” Twilight said at once. “But maybe a little. I like Blake, don’t get me wrong, and I understand what Rainbow sees in her, but… come on, who wouldn’t be just a little jealous of Blake? She’s… she’s everything. Smart, strong, well-read-”

“Dense as a brick?” Sunset suggested. “I like Blake too, but let’s not put her on a pedestal. Yes, she’s a great huntress, and I’m glad she’s going to be with us in Mountain Glenn, but I’d say the same about Pyrrha, and I wouldn’t call her perfect either.” She paused. “We’re going to get them back.”

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. “I know.”

“You don’t sound it,” Sunset pointed out. “You and Rainbow… do I need to give an inspiring speech to you as well?”

“No,” Twilight informed her. “After all, I won’t be going into battle with you.”

“Maybe I can give the speech to Midnight.”

“Please don’t,” Midnight said.

Sunset sniffed. “Okay then,” she muttered. She paused. “I… I’m sorry, about your friends. It’s rotten luck.”

“Tell me about it,” Twilight said. “Fluttershy, it’s… she was exploring the wildlife of Vale! Can you believe that?” She turned around, leaning on the workbench. “She just wanted to see all the living creatures-”

“'Wants.'”

“Pardon?”

“'Wants,' not 'wanted,'” Sunset said. “She’s still around, and she’s going to stay around for some time to come.”

“Right, right, 'wants,'” Twilight said. “Although I’m not sure that she’ll want anything but to get back to Atlas when you rescue her.”

“Right,” Sunset acknowledged. “Even so…”

“Even so, why did she have to get mixed up in this?”

“Why did either of them?”

“Applejack’s a huntress,” Twilight replied. “General Ironwood should have told her all about Salem instead of me.”

“Applejack hasn’t built a sassy computer version of her own mind,” Sunset pointed out.

“Your appreciation of my genius will not make me like you any more,” Midnight said.

“Yes, it would, except that I was appreciating Twilight’s genius, not yours,” Sunset told her. “As I suspect you knew already.”

Twilight didn’t respond to the banter. She reached up, as though she was about to run one hand through her purple hair, but pulled said hand back at the last moment. “What are you doing here, Sunset?” It was a question that was not asked as accusatively as it sounded; Twilight’s voice was soft and small, and Sunset had to strain all four ears to make it out. She sounded more tired than upset.

“Well,” Sunset answered, “I’m not sure how much it matters now, but…” She pulled the phial out of her pocket. It glowed with ethereal green light, pulsing with energy which swirled inside its sealed container. “Since… well, with everything going on, I wanted you to have this. I want to at least have the possibility of leaving a legacy if… well, not that anything will go wrong, but-”

“But Sunset Shimmer isn’t as confident as she makes out to be,” Twilight murmured.

“I will never admit to that,” Sunset said. “The point is that this is magic. A little of my magic, for you to study.”

Twilight’s eyes widened behind her spectacles as she stared at the phial and its contents. The magic within was neither liquid nor gas but behaved a little like both of them, moving with the patterns of liquid and the ease of gas. Slowly, gently, Twilight reached out and plucked the phial from Sunset’s unprotesting fingers.

“You… you were able to separate some of it out?”

“No, that’s all my magic; that’s how I do everything.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know? I’ve never seen anything like this before!” Twilight pointed.

“Fair point,” Sunset conceded, scratching the back of her head with one hand.

“I thought you weren’t sure that you could separate any of your magic out?”

“I wasn’t,” Sunset said. “But I tried anyway, and I succeeded.”

Twilight stared down at it, the phial in her hand with its contents of secrets. “You know,” she murmured. “It’s funny, if you’d given this to me just a little earlier, then I would have been jumping up and down in excitement at the very idea of it, but now… now there seem so many bigger things going on.”

“The fact that you have bigger things to worry about means that you need the small things all the more,” Sunset advised. “Trust me, if all you do is worry about the big things, they’ll drive you mad. Everyone needs a small thing.”

“Then what’s yours?” Twilight demanded.

“Ruby,” Sunset said smoothly. “She’s very small, as you may have noticed.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have anything, do you?”

“I have paranoia about Professor Ozpin, does that count?”

“I don’t think it does.”

“Okay then, you’re right; I probably need a hobby,” Sunset admitted. “Or a relationship. But the point is that you have one already: magic, studying it, searching for it, all that kind of stuff. Don’t let it fall away. Not because it might turn out to be useful down the line, but because it’s yours, and so long as you hold onto it, then Salem and all the rest haven’t taken over your life. So hold onto that and study it when you get the chance.”

Twilight held the phial up to her eye. “Is it finite, or will it regenerate?”

“I’m not honestly sure,” Sunset admitted. “The closest parallel I can think of to this is magical artefacts, which do regenerate from the initial charge – for the most part. So… hopefully that will, but it isn’t actually an artefact, so I can’t be sure.”

Twilight chuckled. “So it might break Conservation of Energy into pieces, or it might not. You can’t be sure.”

“Doesn’t aura already break Conservation of Energy?” Sunset asked. “It comes back from who knows where?”

“That’s certainly an attitude that has existed to aura,” Twilight agreed. “That is unscientific and thus unknowable. But in recent years, especially in Atlas, there has started to be a backlash to that idea, and a number of scientists have attempted to ascertain where, in fact, the energy in aura comes from.”

“Have they got anywhere?”

“One interesting theory I read by Potion Nova states that the energy of aura in fact comes from the body,” Twilight explained. “That is, it's replenished by consuming calories the same way that we do when we run or jump. This is why, when our aura breaks, we suddenly become much slower and stiffer-”

“That’s because aura makes us stronger and faster.”

“Or do we only perceive that as being the case because the aura is consuming the energy that ought to go to the body itself?” Twilight asked. “It would explain why extreme cold drains aura in the same way that moving in the cold is harder than moving in moderate temperatures.”

“I guess,” Sunset murmured. “I have noticed that I feel tired when I use magic, so maybe that holds for that as well.”

“Then how does it regenerate when it's separated from your body?”

“You’re the one who wants to study it; you figure it out,” Sunset said. “And then let me know the answer; I’m curious.”

“We could study it together?” Twilight suggested. “It could be your little thing?”

“I’m not sure how it can be my little thing when you’ve got it in Atlas,” Sunset replied. “But… while you’re still at Beacon… sure, that might be fun.”

Twilight looked down at the magical phial. A smile pricked at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Sunset,” she said. “I… I needed this. Just not right now.”

Sunset chuckled, “No,” she agreed. “Not right now.”

Twilight spent the rest of the afternoon working on Midnight’s body, modifying the AK-200 base from something that was, to be blunt, disposable by design to something that could better withstand the rigours of combat. In addition to replacing one arm with the modular weapons system of an AK-130, she increased the armour on both arms and the chest with pieces of essentially scrap metal and added a couple of missile pods – liberated from a couple of dismantled drones – to the shoulders. She would have added a rotary cannon of some description, but she was almost getting perilously close to the point at which it wouldn’t be able to stand up, let alone move.

And all the while she worked, the phial of magic sat upon the workbench next to her.

When she inserted Midnight into the knight’s cranium, the magic phial was still upon the workbench next to her.

The faceplate of the knight – or MidKnight – glowed lavender. “Hello, Twilight.”

Twilight smiled down upon her. “Hey, Midnight; how do you feel?”

“I feel as though this architecture will take some getting used to,” Midnight replied. “So, this is my body?”

“Yep,” Twilight said. “That’s you.”

Midnight sat up, flexing both hands, wiggling her fingers experimentally. “Thank you, Twilight.” She paused. “But of course, you didn’t do it for me, did you?”

Twilight looked away, unable to dispute the charge.

“Don’t worry, Twilight,” Midnight reassured her. “We will get them back.”

Twilight sighed. “I hope so,” she murmured. “I really hope so. Is it okay if I turn you off now, until tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Midnight agreed readily. “Wake me when you need me.” She lay back down upon the workbench, and Twilight switched her off.

And then walked away, leaving the phial of magic on the workbench.

And if someone had lingered in the workshop, after Twilight Sparkle had departed, and if that someone had watched the phial without interference, they would have seen a tendril of glowing green magic escape its seal and containment and flit through the air like a wisp until it touched the fingertips of MidKnight.

The android’s faceplate flashed green for a moment, and then went dark again.

MidKnight slumbered still.

But now, she dreamed.

Equestria, My Home (New)

Equestria, My Home

“Thanks for coming,” Sunset said. She paused awkwardly, realising that with one exception, that wasn’t a particularly relevant thing to have said. “Not that most of you had much choice.” She clapped her hands together and beamed. “So thanks for coming, Blake!”

The corner of Blake’s lip twitched upwards. “It’s fine. Yang didn’t even say anything this time.”

Ruby made a wordless noise of discomfort. “Sorry that we’re stopping you fitting in with your new team,” she murmured.

Blake waved one hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s just that I… I’m in an unusual position, and Yang gets that. They all do. Just like she understands that we have an important mission tomorrow, even if she doesn’t know exactly what it is.”

“Thanks for coming anyway,” Sunset said. “I asked you here because, well, I thought it might be nice to do something like this between the team-”

Blake coughed.

“You’re an honorary member of the team; your name’s on the wall now, remember?” Sunset reminded her. “I thought that it might be nice to do something with the team rather than having dinner down in the cafeteria.” She paused. “I know that this mission we’re about to go on is… I know that some of you have… I know that it’s not the easiest mission we’ve ever been on, and I know that some of you are aware of that, but I thought it might be nice to do something fun and relaxing on the night before.”

That was why she’d popped out to Benni Havens’ and brought take-out; foil boxes littered the dorm room floor around the members – and honorary members – of the team. Rices egg and chicken fried, noodles, curries, meats in black bean and sweet and sour sauce, plus a few less Mistralian options like chips. They all lay opened and ranged in state from sampled to nearly disappeared. Soda cans, one of which was held in Sunset’s right hand, were starting to accumulate in the dorm room bin.

The members of the team sat on the floor, scattered across the room, backs resting upon their beds. Pyrrha was the one exception; she sat on the window seat, back straight and posture prim, one hand stroking Jaune’s hair while her red sash fell down to the floor from her waist.

“Is everyone enjoying themselves?” Sunset asked.

“Yeah!” Jaune cried.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said, a warm smile on her face that illuminated her green eyes. “This was a wonderful idea, Sunset.”

Sunset bowed her head in acknowledgement. “I’m glad,” she said. “I… I really am glad. Tomorrow… tomorrow, we start on something the likes of which… well, you’ve all heard the news: this isn’t a reconnaissance any more; this is a rescue mission.”

“Right,” Blake murmured, a determined look upon her face.

“But I will tell you all the same thing that I told Rainbow Dash: we are going to rescue Rainbow and Twilight’s friends, and we are going to do it in style, and we are going to do it without loss, and why? Because we are Sapphire!” Sunset cried.

“Yes, the odds are against us, and the situation is grim. Yes, Cinder knows that we’re coming; in fact, she’s probably counting on it. Yes, we will be walking into an urban nightmare infested with grimm, but you know what? I have no doubts. None at all. Tomorrow, we go into Mountain Glenn, and however this mission ends up, all of us are going to walk out again. All of us, safe and sound and victorious. And do you know why?”

She let the question hang in the air for a moment, although the others, knowing that it was rhetorical, made no move to answer it. They simply waited, spellbound – or so Sunset fancied – hanging upon her words.

“Picture the White Fang in Mountain Glenn,” she invited them. “Picture them in their numbers; picture them with their weapons, their Atlesian equipment; picture their dust; picture them as we fought them at the docks. And then remind yourself that in all those ranks of the White Fang, there is not one of them named Pyrrha Nikos!” Sunset gestured at her, in case the team had forgotten who she was. “There is not one of them named Ruby Rose! There is not even one of them named Jaune Arc, and there is certainly not one of them named Blake Belladonna… anymore.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose, but as her ears did not droop, Sunset knew that she wasn’t really ashamed or upset. In fact, she fancied that there was a slight quirk to her lips that suggested that she was actually amused by it.

“Some of you drive me crazy, and you know who you are,” Sunset went on. “But you are bold, and boldness will be as much a shield to us as aura will, and you are skilled. We are the best team in Beacon; we have studied for this, we have trained for this, we have met the White Fang twice before, and twice before, we have sent them running!”

Her voice dropped. “We can do this. I know we can do this. And I hope you know it too. It will be hard, but it will be done.”

She took a drink, for the talking was drying her throat.

“But that is for the morrow,” she said. “Tonight, we eat, we drink, we laugh, we… well, I asked you here to tell you something. Something that I haven’t told anyone in Remnant.”

Sunset leaned against the wall, turning the words over and over in her head.

“Pyrrha asked me a little while ago, after I got out of the hospital, about whether she should… well, I asked her to write to my teacher, Princess Celestia, and tell her if I should fall in battle.”

“I thought you just got done telling us that we were all going to make it out?” Jaune asked.

“We are,” Sunset informed him. “But Pyrrha asked, and she even offered to take my weapons home and carry word in person to Princess Celestia-”

“Your teacher was a princess?!” Ruby cried.

“Yes, Ruby, I was taught by a princess,” Sunset replied. “I was taught by the wisest princess who ever ruled, far-sighted and fair, kind and generous, loving and… and possessed of nearly infinite patience.” That nearly, of course, had been where Sunset had tripped up, trespassing at last upon limits that she hadn’t even suspected were there.

“That explains a lot, actually,” Blake murmured.

“Sunset could have been a princess herself,” Jaune said. “Isn’t that right, Sunset? That’s what you said in Mistral.”

“I have decided,” Sunset said, by way of reply, “to tell you all my story. All of it, including the bits that will explain everything, because… because I love you guys, because you are my dearest friends, and if anyone deserves to know the truth about me, it’s you, and because… because it will explain why you can’t go to my home and bring word of my death to the princess in person – although thank you, Pyrrha, for the generous offer.”

Sunset bowed, flourishing one arm extravagantly out to her side, even as she held her free hand over her heart.

“But you cannot go to my home,” she went on, “for the simple reason that I… that I… I was not born into this world.”

Her friends and teammates stared at her.

“Uh… come again?” Ruby asked.

“I said exactly what you think I said,” Sunset declared, looking from one to the other until her gaze had affixed on each of them in turn. “I’m not from Atlas; I’m certainly not from Menagerie. I’m not from anywhere beyond the kingdoms. I am… I come from a land called Equestria.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Blake said.

“I’d be alarmed if you had,” Sunset replied. “In Canterlot, in the west of Solitas, there is a statue of a horse in the grounds of the combat school; the plinth… it looks like there’s a mirror on the north face. It is a mirror. A magic mirror that leads…” They’re either going to believe me or they’re going to think I’m absolutely nuts. “It leads to the magical land of Equestria. That’s where I’m from.”

“You’re… you’re from the other side of a magical portal?” Jaune asked.

“You asked me if I was a magical girl,” Sunset reminded him. She grinned. “You were more right than you knew.”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Why would I joke about something like this?” Sunset asked. “Don’t you think if I was making stuff up that I would make up something a little more plausible than the fact that I come from another world on the far side of a magical mirror?”

“I guess,” Jaune murmured. A frown besmirched his features. “Hey, isn’t that one of the things that Lyra believes according to…” He trailed off, stopping himself from saying ‘according to the info that you leaked off her scroll,’ for which Sunset was very grateful.

After all, Ruby didn’t know about that yet.

“In this particular instance, Lyra happens to be on the mark,” Sunset said. “I haven’t told her that, obviously, but… she’s right. Well, she’s right that there is a magical portal to another world; I don’t know whether somebody called Megan Williams ever went through it.”

“There are older tales of people travelling through magical portals,” Pyrrha remarked. “The Girl Who Fell Through the World, Taliesin and the Magic Mirror; could Equestria be the place they went?”

“Quite possibly, though in Equestria, we tell no tales of them,” Sunset admitted. “For whatever reason. Perhaps… we are a world more attuned with magic than you are here; it is more present – omnipresent, in fact – in our lives. It is harder for history to become legend or old mare’s tale than it is here in Remnant, because so much that would seem fantastic to you is commonplace to us. That being the case… it would not surprise me completely if Princess Celestia had decided to suppress such stories, lest others be tempted to seek out the mirror and the portal within.”

“So not everyone knows about it, then, in your world?” Jaune asked.

“No,” Sunset said at once. “It is a secret of Princess Celestia; very few know of it, and she regretted showing it to me almost as soon as she had done so.”

“Good,” Jaune said. “'Cause it would kind of suck if everyone in another world knew about us and was just laughing at how stupid we are for not having a clue about them.”

Sunset grinned. “Don’t worry, Jaune; everyone who’s laughing at you is here at Beacon. And even they’re not laughing anymore.”

She paused. In some ways, that had been the easy part, the part that was the simplest to convey and that said the least about herself. The next part… well, the next part was either to reveal that she had not been born a human but a magical unicorn in a world full of ponies, or else the reasons that had driven her from Equestria to Remnant in the first place.

She honestly wasn’t sure which one she ought to tackle first.

It was a bit of a toss-up, provided that none of them brought up the pony thing. Said pony thing would be, possibly at least, more difficult to explain, but at the same time, at least she would be able to put off explaining what a brat she used to be.

It was honestly a tough choice, which one flowed more naturally, which part would be the easiest to explain… which one she was more comfortable with.

Jaune made the decision for her. His frown deepened. “Hang on, Sunset… Lyra’s theories… I’m sure they said that the world on the other side of the portal was inhabited by horses.”

Sunset nodded. “Yes. Yes it did. Or ponies, rather.”

“So this Megan Williams didn’t go through your portal after all, then,” Jaune declared. “She can’t have.”

“No, I think it’s quite plausible,” Sunset murmured, looking away from him and speaking in a very, exceedingly, casual tone.

Blake began, “But you-”

“Assumed this form, adjusted for age, obviously, when I passed through the mirror,” Sunset explained. “Equestria… Equestria is a magical land full of magical, talking ponies… and so am I. So was I. It’s a bit complicated; I’m not entirely sure how to define myself.”

“You’re kidding!” Jaune exclaimed.

“Once again, I ask you: why would I make up something so ridiculous?” Sunset said. “Why would I gather you here, promise to tell you the truth, and then spin you such a far-fetched yarn that you couldn’t possibly believe it unless it were true?”

“That, in itself, is true,” Pyrrha murmured. “The liar intends their deceits to seem close to truth; the truth-teller cares not for how outlandish their tale may seem. Why would you try to deceive us with such an astonishing story as this one?”

“Why would I try and deceive you at all?” Sunset countered. “I had no need to tell you anything; it’s not like you were beating down the door to get the answers to my past. I’m telling you this because I want you to know the truth, the whole truth, which is-”

“That you’re a horse,” Blake said flatly.

“A pony,” Sunset corrected. “A unicorn, to be exact.”

“'Unicorn'?” Pyrrha repeated, a note of anxiety entering her voice. “As in the grimm?”

“That thing in the bestiary is not a unicorn,” Sunset declared. “And shame on you for besmirching the name so, and that goes for pegasus as well. I don’t know how it is that grimm that happen to look that way showed up, or griffons either, for that matter, unless some distant memory of contact between your world and mine is preserved in their creation – although I hope not; it would mean that we were seen as monsters and so bred monsters of our names – but they are not true unicorns. I am a unicorn. Equestria is not home to mere dumb beasts of the sort that you could call ponies, and which would be earth ponies in our lexicon, but unicorns and pegasi, living in harmony in a world of magic, while other creatures that seem mere myth or monster to you like griffons and dragons dwell beyond our borders. Although I will admit the dragons are still pretty monstrous, even in Equestria.

“So,” she said. “What do you think of that, then?”

It started as a snort out of Ruby’s nose. Then it was a snigger escaping out between her pursed lips. And then Ruby’s giggling was transformed into shrill, high-pitched laughter that echoed off the walls and ceiling as her whole body trembled. She almost doubled over with laughter.

“A unicorn!” she cried. “You’re actually… you’re a unicorn? Like, with a horn and everything?!”

Sunset stared balefully at her laughing partner, lost in an uncontrollable fit of hilarity far beyond that which the revelation warranted.

And then, quite suddenly, she was laughing too. It was like being punch drunk; she knew that it wasn’t funny, really, but somehow, she just couldn’t help but snigger as she said, “Yes. Yes, Ruby, with a horn and everything. And an amber coat and perfectly poni-pedicured hooves.”

“'Poni-pedicure?'”

Sunset was still giggling as she nodded. “Poni-pedi, for short.”

“Poni-pedi!” Ruby yelled, as though it were the funniest thing that she’d ever heard.

One by one, they all succumbed. It wasn’t hilarious. It wasn’t even particularly funny, but nevertheless, they all began to laugh, even Pyrrha, even Blake — which was positively amazing, because Sunset didn’t think she’d ever seen her genuinely laugh like this before. It was like they were all so intoxicated that they found even the stupidest things to be the height of hilarity, or they had all been so struck with tension by the arrival of Salem that even the slightest chance at a relief of that tension was like the bursting of a dam to let the floodwaters flow down upon the valley.

“And that,” Sunset declared, as the laughter died down, “is one of the many, many reasons I didn’t tell you. And exactly the reason why I told you now.” She grinned at Ruby. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Ruby asked, in what might have been calculated innocence or genuine cluelessness. It was sometimes hard to tell with Ruby.

“Magic,” Pyrrha said, her voice soft and not without a few lingering traces of the amusement that she had displayed only moments before. “So, magic is something that all can do in your world?”

“It’s complicated,” Sunset said. “Magic is… hmm, how do I explain this? Well, to start with, each of the three pony races has their own kind of magic. Unicorn magic is what I can do; it’s the most obvious, the most impressive, the best kind of magic, obviously, and when we talk of magic amongst ourselves, it is the magic of unicorns to which we refer. Pegasi can fly and have power over the weather; we are not at the mercy of natural forces; when we wish for rain to water the crops, we make it rain; when we wish for sun, we clear the clouds. Or rather, the pegasi do. They can even walk amongst said clouds and make their dwellings in the sky without fear of falling. The magic of earth ponies is vaguer, more subtle; it has to do with a connection to the land itself, it gives earth ponies a greater strength, superior endurance, and… I think it makes them good farmers too. I confess it’s the aspect that I know the least about, from lack of interest as much as anything else.”

Lack of interest amongst unicorn scholars too; there was never as much to read about earth ponies.

She had considered getting into how magic was filtered through cutie marks and how each pony’s unique talent affected what magic they were or were not capable of. That, however, would both have involved saying the word ‘cutie mark’ but also probably have led to questions about Sunset’s cutie mark, which was… rather a sore subject with her, one that she would prefer to keep to herself.

“And you say that you all live in harmony?” Blake asked sceptically.

“You say that like you find it surprising,” Sunset noted.

“I find that far more incredible than a land of magical talking horses, or ponies,” Blake admitted. “In this world, the strong prey on the weak, they exploit and oppress those who are different from them, and you mean to tell me that in your world, a world which is division is entrenched by race to an even greater extent than here in Remnant, a world where earth ponies could be argued to be a ready-made labour caste or superior by virtue of their physical prowess, no one race oppresses the others?”

“Equestria is not as Remnant is,” Sunset declared. “We are not prey to all the vices of men, nor will we suffer them while Princess Celestia wears the crown and sits upon the throne in Canterlot. She holds all things in harmony and keeps the peace across the land.”

“Then harmony is maintained by fear?” Blake asked. “By force? How can one person hold a whole nation in subjugation?”

“That’s not what I meant, and stop trying to make my home out to be as bad as yours,” Sunset said, her voice sharpening just a little. “Unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies live side by side, holding none greater than the others, none more exalted and none more despised, not solely because Princess Celestia would have it so but because… because prejudice is not our way. We are… we have outgrown such arbitrary divisions, moved past them.”

“It sounds idyllic,” Blake murmured. “So why would you leave such a place to come here?”

“I didn’t know where I was going when I left,” Sunset admitted.

Blake snorted. “Why didn’t you go back as soon as you found out?”

Ah. Now they had come to the hard part. Still, there was no turning back now. She had promised them the truth, and the truth was what she would give them. However shaming it might be.

“It begins… it begins with Princess Celestia, as so much in Equestria does,” Sunset said quietly. “Princess Celestia… as I have already said, she rules over the land. She is… everything, and all-important. Our Princess of the Sun, our ruler, our… our god, you might almost say. Sun and moon arise at her command, the stars align as she would wish; heavens and earth move as she wills. She is immortal, eternal, and she… she is everything that a ruler ought to be: generous, kind, just, wise, patient. And I… I betrayed her.

"She taught me everything I know about magic. She would have taught me more if I'd had the wit and wisdom to pay attention to the lessons that she was trying to give me. Even now… when I feel lost as to the right course, I try and imagine what Celestia would consider to be the right course; when I don't just ask her myself, that is. That's who I write to in that book I have, as Pyrrha knows already; it is a magic book; it connects to Celestia and to…" Sunset decided that it would be too complicated to try and explain the doppelganger business to everyone, that there was another Twilight Sparkle in Equestria with whom Sunset was in correspondence. "And with her new protégé. The one who came after me.

"Celestia raised me. She was more than just a teacher to me; she was the mother that I didn't have. I'd like to think that I was more than just a student to her, but…" Sunset shook her head. "Anyway, the point is that she didn't just teach me, although she did that to the best of her ability. She didn't even just raise me, although she did that too, albeit without as much success as she might have liked. She was grooming me to be… in my world, in the world I came from, in Equestria, it is possible to ascend, as we call it. If you become a paragon of virtue to shine above all others, then you will ascend, become an alicorn and a princess, honoured and revered above the common run, a shining light over the world. That was the destiny that Celestia intended for me. It was the destiny that I wanted more than anything else: to be at the centre of all things, admired and honoured, feted and lauded." She ventured a slight smile. "That much hasn't changed."

Pyrrha shook her head fondly. "Indeed not."

Sunset sighed. "But it was something that I couldn't have. I was too vain, too proud, too focussed on my destiny to the exclusion of anything that I might actually need to claim my destiny: friendship, love, any actual virtues beyond ambition and a willingness to work hard. In the end, Celestia realised that she had made a mistake. It wasn't meant to be.

"I couldn't take it. I couldn't brook it. I already knew about the magic mirror; Celestia had shown it to me once, and I had seen such wonders within… it gave me a vision of myself wreathed alike in flame and glory. As Celestia ordered her guards to expel me from the palace, I thought, I convinced myself, that that vision was a sign of where my destiny lay: through the mirror, on the other side, in this world. And so I assaulted the guards, fought my way into the mirror chamber and… came here. Self-imposed exile. I'm forgiven now, given that Celestia's already asked me to come home, but for a while… and that’s why I’m here."

“That explains your attitude,” Jaune muttered.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Sunset replied. “No need to rub it in.”

Pyrrha rose to her feet. “Speaking for myself… I’m afraid in the face of so many revelations about you I can only say that… Equestria’s loss is our gain.”

Sunset smiled. “Thank you, Pyrrha. That would mean a lot from anyone here but especially from you. I… since coming to Remnant, I flatter myself that I have become so much more than the arrogant unicorn who fled Equestria. If that is so, then whatever I have become, whatever I am now, it is your doing. All of you.”

“You are not the only one who has been changed or found their life transformed by this team, and for the better,” Pyrrha murmured. “I am honoured to go into battle with you, tomorrow and in all the battles to come until… until whatever end.”

“Until whatever end,” Sunset repeated, slowly and softly.

Until whatever end. Until whatever awaited them, tomorrow and in Mountain Glenn or thereafter. There would always be a tomorrow, always a next time, always something else awaiting them. In the face of Salem, their labours would never cease; Remnant would never be safe enough for them to put down their arms and take their rest.

But so long as they were together, so long as this team stood by her side, then Sunset’s fears were soothed and balmed, and she did not tremble before tomorrow.

Or whatever end.

Setting Out (Rewritten)

Setting Out

The entire first year stood assembled in the auditorium. Some wore the uniforms of their respective schools: the shirts and blazers of Beacon, the crisp white uniforms of Atlas, the bizarrely authoritarian black of Haven, the casuals that served in the absence of a uniform for Shade. Others – SAPR, YRBN, SSSN, and RSPT all amongst them – were armed and, when appropriate, armoured for battle as if they were about to leave on their missions as soon as this great gathering was concluded.

Which was true for SAPR and RSPT, if not for the others.

Students from Vale, Atlas, Haven, and Vacuo were all gathered under one roof. Gathered, but not mingled. Although there had been no rule about it, although Professor Goodwitch up on stage had not directed it, the four schools had formed into four distinct and separate blocks within the hall. Although there was no settled order within the blocks – a fact which surprised Sunset in the case of the Atlesians, whom she might have taken to be more regimented in this situation – nevertheless, the boundaries were clear.

For a celebration of unity, Sunset thought. There's not a lot going around.

Which wasn't to say that there was none at all.

“Hey,” Rainbow said, wandering over with her wings strapped to and her shotgun slung across her back. “All set?”

“Yeah,” Sunset replied. “You?”

Rainbow nodded.

Sunset paused for a moment. Her voice dropped. “How are you feeling?”

“Ready to shoot someone,” Rainbow muttered. She managed to force a grin onto her face. “Good thing we’re going into battle then, huh?”

“Just don’t let your emotions run away with you.”

“Sure, because you’ve never done that.”

“I’ve never done it with the lives of my friends at stake.”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to lead,” Rainbow said sharply. “Don’t worry; I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

Sunset did not quite sigh, but she did exhale a little. “Glad to hear it.”

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. “It goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: when we find Cinder, I’m going to put two through her heart and one between the eyes to make sure she pays for what she’s done.”

Sunset pursed her lips. “That’s not-”

“And I don’t want to hear anything from you about how she doesn’t deserve it because she’s had a hard life or any of that crap,” Rainbow added.

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I know that I haven’t told you about her life-”

“I don’t care,” Rainbow said. “Lots of people have it rough; most of them deal with it. Nobody forced Cinder to do any of this. It’s her choice.”

“And killing her will be yours,” Sunset growled.

Rainbow’s expression didn’t alter. “That’s right,” she said. “It will. Do you have a problem with that?”

Sunset looked into Rainbow’s magenta eyes. It was clear that if Sunset said ‘yes,’ then she would lose Rainbow’s trust, and that could make the mission a lot harder. For better or worse, they needed one another if they were to get this done, complete their reconnaissance, and rescue Fluttershy and Applejack. So she lied, “No.”

Don’t worry, Cinder, I… I’ll think of something, if it comes to it. For all that Cinder was her enemy, she deserved better than to die shot down by Rainbow Dash.

Single combat against me, at the least.

"Quiet, everyone," Professor Goodwitch declared, her voice carrying across the auditorium. "The headmaster would like to say a few words before we begin."

She stepped away from the microphone, and Professor Ozpin took her place there. He leaned upon his cane with both hands, seeming older now and a little more bowed than he had when Sunset had seen him last. He looked up, and over his dark spectacles, his eyes swept across the assembled company.

I hope this is a better speech than his last one.

“Nearly eighty years ago,” Professor Ozpin said, “the largest war in recorded history came to an end. It was a war of greed, of tyranny and oppression. It was a war over the very ideas of individualism versus conformity, freedom versus tyranny; it was a war in which not only nations but ideals were pitted against one another on the battlefield. A war in which the question became not would the faunus be made free, but would any men remain free, or would all be reduced to slaves under the iron rule of those who sought dominion over all things, to order them strictly according to their will.

“It was a war that brought mankind closer to the brink of destruction than he has ever come before or since. What the armies of the four kingdoms did not destroy, the creatures of grimm all too often devoured. Lands were lost, settlements destroyed, a generation of valiant young men and women slaughtered across countless battlefields. Only one side fought for a just cause,” Professor Ozpin said, causing a bit of a stir amongst some of the Atlas and Haven students who were clearly in no doubt that he didn’t mean the Mantle-Mistral alliance by that remark. Sunset saw Ciel Soleil scowl at the professor.

“But be in no doubt that there were heroes upon both sides,” Professor Ozpin continued. “And that the courage of those who made the highest sacrifice for their kingdom cannot be doubted. This was a war in which all four realms laid their best and dearest on the altar and found when the fires died down that they had little left and even less to show for what they had purchased at so great a cost.

“Yet from the ashes of this horror arose a new world. A better, stronger world that has to this day endured, survived, even flourished. A world in which individuality is encouraged and diversity is celebrated as the pillars of our strength; a world in which unity comes through cooperation, not domination; a world in which our four kingdoms no longer compete as rivals but join together as allies in the common struggle to survive.

“You children, gathered here today, are the product of this new era and the exemplars of it. You have come from all four corners of Remnant: from Vale, from Atlas, from Mistral, and from Vacuo, and all of you are gathered in this room today not as enemies but as friends and comrades. Soon, you will compete for the glory of your school and the honour of your kingdom in the Vytal Festival, but there is a reason why the tradition arose that students from each of the visiting academies would spend the semester before the tournament as guests of the host school: so that before you met as foes in the coliseum, you might first meet as friends within these halls and form ties that will endure across time and distance.

“Yes, mankind has risen from the ashes of the Great War stronger and greater than he was before, but even after nearly eighty years, the peace that so many heroes gave their lives for remains fragile and delicate, ever besieged by the creatures of grimm without and menaced from within by those who seek the destruction of our way of life. It is for that reason that the four academies were founded, and for that reason that you have come from the four corners of the world: to defend our world and keep it safe from those who would do it harm.

“And that is why, while the rest of the world celebrates peace, you will be defending it. As first year students, each of you will be shadowing a professional huntsman or huntress on a mission either within the walls, beyond them, or even outside the boundaries of the kingdom itself.” He seemed to look directly at Sunset and her team. “But no matter which path you choose or where your chosen assignment takes you, remember to be safe, remember your training, and remember that teamwork is always your greatest weapon. Do your very best.”

The applause that greeted him as he stepped off the stage hovered somewhere between polite and enthusiastic without being either truly subdued enough or undeniably voluble enough to qualify as either.

Sunset watched out of the corner of her eye as Professor Ozpin said something to Professor Goodwitch. To Rainbow Dash, Sunset asked, “Is everything ready?”

Rainbow nodded. “The Bus is fuelled, armed, and fully prepped. We’re good to go.”

“Good,” Sunset murmured. She clasped her hands together: both of them – and indeed her arms up past the elbow – were concealed beneath white silk opera gloves. They were bridal gloves – which had led to some awkward questions at the boutique that she’d bought them from – which meant that the ring fingers could be pulled off in case she really needed to use her semblance; for the rest, her hands were encased in soft white silk, and beneath the silk, her semblance was effectively neutered in both promise and in threat.

Admittedly, if she ever took her jacket off, she’d probably look a little odd wearing bridal gloves under metal vambraces, but she didn’t intend to take her jacket off, so it didn’t matter.

“Do you want to get going?” Sunset said as, all around them, teams headed to the boards to choose their missions. “Or is there anything else you need to do?”

Rainbow glanced at Twilight, who was drifting across the hall towards Team TTSS. “Just… give me a second, okay?”

“Right.” Sunset turned to her team: Ruby was getting one last hug from Yang, something which she seemed to both like and want to escape from; Blake was saying goodbye to Sun. Ren, Nora, and Neptune had already started drifting towards the mission lists. “Say what you have to say.”

Sunset watched out of the corner of her eye as Rainbow made her way through the student body, brushing aside those who were trying to reach the job board and the promise of the missions there, towards Twilight and the members of their backup team. Considering that they were the whole group’s backup, Sunset considered drifting over there herself to make sure that the four of them understood what was expected of them, but she and Trixie had never really gotten on, and the other three were complete strangers to her, so she decided against it. It would probably offend their Atlesian pride, and they wouldn’t want that, would they?

No, seriously, the last thing she wanted was for her life to be in the hands of people she’d managed to offend just that morning.

And so, she remained where she was, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rainbow said something to Twilight too quietly for Sunset to hear and pulled her into a tight embrace as the members of Team TTSS looked on. Once she had released Twilight, she clasped the hands of both Trixie and Starlight firmly – and with some warmth, to Sunset’s eyes – saying something to each of them in turn. Probably the usual sort of bromides for this situation: good luck and such.

Either way, once she was done, Rainbow turned away, ears pricked up atop her head, and nodded to Sunset as she returned to them.

Sunset glanced towards Professor Goodwitch, who had finished speaking with Professor Ozpin. Across the crowded room, their eyes met, and Professor Goodwitch gave a short, sharp gesture with her head in the direction of the door.

“Okay,” Sunset said, raising her voice just enough so that her team could hear her. “Let’s go. Our second mission starts now.”

Yang smirked. “I don’t know whether to tell you to take care of my sister… or whether to tell my sister that she ought to take care of you.”

Sunset snorted. “You can do either, because we’ll do both.”

“You’d better,” Yang said. She ruffled Ruby’s hair. “Go get ‘em, Rubes.”

SAPR and RSPT, including Blake but not, of course, Twilight, made their way out of the crowded auditorium. The rest of the students were still there, choosing their missions. Well, most of the other teams; as SAPR and RSP(B) left, they were joined outside with the sun on their faces by Team WWSR, who strolled out only a moment after.

“I didn’t see you at the job board,” Weiss observed.

Sunset glanced at her. “You can’t have been there very long yourself.”

Weiss shrugged. “We’ve been requested,” she declared proudly. “The VPD has asked that we resume our internship there.”

“Lucky you,” Sunset replied, sticking her nose ever so slightly up in the air. “We’ve been requested as well.”

Flash looked from SAPR to RSP(B). “By the Atlesians?”

“It’s classified, Flash,” Rainbow said quietly.

Cardin snorted. “We’re talking about first year missions here; how can it be classified?”

“Oh, so you’d tell us about the case you were working on with the VPD?” Sunset demanded.

“No,” Cardin replied at once. “But-”

“Exactly,” Sunset said.

Flash’s brow furrowed. “Are you… both going on the same mission?”

Sunset glanced at Rainbow, who said, “That’s classified.Yeah. Twilight… Twilight’s working on something else, but the rest of us? Yeah, it’s the same mission.”

Flash nodded. “Well… take care, Sunset,” he said. “Both of you.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, before a smile blossomed upon her face. “You too, Flash. Fill up those jail cells.”

Flash grinned. “We’ll try our best,” he said.

They parted ways, Team WWSR headed back to their dorm room, perhaps to make their final preparations or get things ready for their departure – or perhaps it just wasn’t time for them to go yet. As she watched them go, Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder. Pyrrha’s hand.

“Things seem… better, between you two,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset chuckled. “Well… before the dance turned into something insane, Flash and I… we had the chance to talk things over. Settle things, you know. So… yeah, they are better now. I understand things that… that he didn’t say.”

“Such as?” Pyrrha asked.

“This is hardly the time, Pyrrha, don’t you think?” Sunset replied. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t his fault that we broke up. At least it wasn’t entirely his fault.” She looked at Jaune. “Thank you, Jaune. I should have said that to you earlier, but better late than never, right?”

Jaune shrugged. “What are friends for, right?”

“Well, I’m not sure that I want you interfering with my love life all the time,” Sunset responded. “But I needed you to do that for me. So thanks. And Rainbow Dash, if Twilight wants to give him another chance-”

Rainbow grinned. “I don’t think Twilight’s the one he has his eye on right now, do you?”

Sunset sighed. As much as things with Flash were better now, as much as she had renounced all claim on him at last, she still wasn’t sure what she thought about the idea of him dating the Schnee heiress. “Anyway,” she said, injecting some much-needed briskness into her voice. “We should get going, or Professor Goodwitch will have words for us.”

They proceeded the rest of the way to the docking pad, where Rainbow’s garishly decorated and over-armed monstrosity of an airship was waiting for them. Professor Goodwitch was waiting outside the open side hatch, arms folded, her brow pinched together as she gazed at them through her half-moon spectacles.

“How good of you all to join me,” she said sharply. “I trust you all understand the gravity of this assignment?”

“We do, Professor,” Pyrrha said.

Professor Goodwitch’s gaze lingered upon Pyrrha for a moment before she said, “And you all understand that once we embark, there can be no turning back. You must see this through to the end unless I decide otherwise.”

“Nobody’s backing out, Professor,” Ruby declared. “We’re all in this, all the way.”

Professor Goodwitch pursed her lips together. “Very well,” she said in a clipped tone. “Miss Shimmer, Miss Dash, I will not seek to gratuitously interfere with your commands, but when I do interfere, I expect you to obey me without hesitation, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rainbow said.

“Then proceed, Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Rainbow repeated. “Everyone, get on board, take your places.” She turned away for a moment and looked across the docking pads to where another Skyray, a regular airship with no distinguishing features, waited.

Team TTSS were stood beside it, along with Twilight.

Rainbow came to attention, throwing them a parade-ground perfect salute.

On the other docking pad, Trixie offered them a bow in turn, sweeping her hat off her head as her starry cape billowed out behind her.

They clambered aboard, most of the members of the mission taking their seats as the airship door closed behind them. Sunset remained on her feet, trailing after Rainbow Dash as the latter took the pilot’s seat in the cockpit. The co-pilot’s seat was occupied by that knight that Twilight had been working on in the shop.

“Greetings, everyone,” the android – or the computer that was currently occupying the android body – declared in a voice that sounded like Twilight speaking through a mechanical filter. “My name is Midnight, and I will be your copilot today and your companion on this mission. Having studied your records, I expect to be impressed.”

“Uh, who’s that?” Jaune asked.

“I am Midnight, Jaune.”

“I kind of meant-”

“I am a Virtual Intelligence created by Twilight Sparkle and placed in the body of this android,” Midnight explained. “I am capable of assisting in flying an airship and possess a range of combat capabilities.”

“Huh,” Jaune said. “That’s… that’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“Thank you, Jaune; I am pretty cool,” Midnight concurred. “Pyrrha, I think this one might be a keeper.”

Ruby leaned forward in her seat. “So Twilight gave you a personality and everything?”

“That’s right, Ruby; Twilight programmed me based on her own brain patterns.”

“And she modified your body with extra weapons, too?”

“It can’t generate its own aura,” Penny muttered.

“Green isn’t your colour, Penny,” Midnight said.

“She’s wearing green right now, and stop it, Midnight,” Rainbow said.

“I’m just having a little fun.”

“Yeah, well, stop it anyway.”

“You’re such a killjoy, Rainbow Dash; that’s why you’re not my favourite.”

“I thought that as a computer you didn’t have favourites,” Rainbow said.

“That was a lie.”

“I thought so,” Rainbow muttered.

Sunset continued to stand at the back of the cockpit, looming and lurking in equal measure as Rainbow flicked the switches on the control panel. Rainbow's gaze – and Sunset's too, drawn to follow – lingered or seemed to linger for a moment on the trio of photographs tacked on to the side of the panel, in a rare space with no instruments or controls. One was a picture Sunset recognised, of Rainbow and Twilight and their friends – Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Pinkie Pie – all sitting together in a tight group, the same picture that Rainbow had showed on the train back from Cold Harbour; another showed Rainbow with a kid that Sunset didn't recognise, or didn't think she did, with purple hair cut in a Rainbow Dash-ish style; the last showed a younger Rainbow with another faunus, a bird faunus with brown wings, one of which was curling around Rainbow's shoulders as they both smiled and flashed peace signs for the camera.

Rainbow stared, and then after a moment, she looked away without a word and flicked another switch on the controls. The Skyray began to vibrate as the whining sound of the engines penetrated inside.

"Control, this is Atlas Echo Three-Oh-Three, requesting permission to depart."

"Copy Echo Three-Oh-Three, clearance granted. Good hunting."

"Hold on, everyone," Rainbow said, as she pulled a black lever downwards towards her. The nose of the Skyray descended slightly, the aircraft pitching forwards even as it rose up off the docking pad and into the air.

"Is it supposed to be at this angle?" Sunset asked, since she could now see more of the city of Vale than she would have liked.

Rainbow didn't dignify the panicked question with a response; instead, she pulled back on the stick just a little, flicked another switch, and then they were flying. The Skyray still shook with the vibration of the powerful engines, but it also glided, then as it picked up speed with every passing second, it began to soar through the air over the city and past the assembled ranks of the Atlesian cruisers suspended over the city or patrolling on its limits.

They passed over the square tower blocks and over the industrialised farmland of the agricultural district, passing over one of the lengths of wall that bridged the gap between the natural barriers of Vale (in this case, a stretch of dense woodland between the mountains and the river Uise). And then they were in the wilds and on their way to Mountain Glenn.

Twilight watched them go; she stood on the docking pad, watching as the airship grew smaller and smaller in her eyes, until she could no longer make it out.

“Wish you were with them?” Starlight asked from behind her.

Twilight turned around, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I’d only get in the way. It’s just-”

“That doesn’t stop you from worrying,” Starlight finished for her. “I get it. I was the same way with Maud, what with her being on Dash and Applejack’s team.”

“Turns out, you were right to worry,” Twilight muttered.

“No, turns out that Maud was in safe hands with Rainbow Dash,” Starlight insisted. “She got Maud out; she got Applejack out. She’s one of the best, and all the rest are safe with her, or as safe as you can get in this line of work.” She rested Equalizer, in rifle form, upon her shoulder. “And if that’s not enough, then they’ve got us watching over them, right? Best team in all of Atlas.”

Twilight snorted. “Second best.”

“'Second best'?” Trixie declared. “The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is unmatched in all of Atlas, not only for her own prodigious skill, but also for the quality of her comrades. Trrrrrixie does not admit to second best in anything.” She grinned. “There’s a reason you chose us to save Rainbow’s butt if she needs it, right? Oh, I’d love to see the look on her face when we come to the rescue. Too bad that’s not going to happen, huh?” she winked at Twilight.

Twilight smiled. “Right. How is it that you have more faith in my friends than I do?”

“Because we’re huntresses,” Tempest suggested. “And the world isn’t scary to us in the way that it is to you.”

“That could have been phrased more tactfully,” Starlight declared pointedly with a glance at Tempest. “But… Tempest might have a point.”

“Maybe,” Twilight murmured. “I hope you’re right.” She turned back towards the skies of Vale into which Rainbow and Sunset and all the rest had flown away, out of sight.

Good luck, everyone.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Not many changes here, except that Twilight doesn't go with the group, and they don't get ambushed by Cinder at the end.

Memories (Rewritten)

Memories

Ruby wasn’t sure exactly where Rainbow Dash had set the Skyray down until the hatch on the side of the airship slid open and she could see that they had landed in what had once been the garden of someone’s house. The remains of a stone wall and a few mouldering remnants of wooden fence surrounded an open space where the grass was overgrown and the weeds were invading, but there was no sign that anybody had ever built over this, not like the two-storey house that was falling into decay not far away. This was the garden of that house, a place where it was still – if you cared to look – just about possible to make out the edges of what had been flower beds.

Ruby stepped out of the airship with Crescent Rose at her hip in its carbine configuration, sweeping from right to left in case any grimm leapt out of the shadows or from the abandoned house. As she did so, she couldn’t help but wonder who had lived in that house, tended to this garden… and whether they had managed to get out of the city in time before there was no escape.

Sunset followed her out of the aircraft, with Sol Invictus pressed into her shoulder, even while the barrel was pointing down towards the ground; she’d taped a torch around the barrel, though she hadn’t turned it on yet.

As the other members of the two teams disembarked, Ruby caught Sunset looking at the house, studying it for a moment in a way that prompted Ruby to do likewise. It had holes in the roof and in the walls; the glass had gone from the windows and from all the doors – there was a back door and a set of patio doors leading out onto some stone slabs that were cracking as the weeds grew up between them – as well. If there was still a front door, Ruby would be quite surprised. But most of the walls were still there, and most of the roof too, when it came to it. As a place to make camp – which was almost certainly what Sunset was thinking about, since it was getting dark now – it wasn’t the worst place Ruby could imagine by any measure.

“Make camp here?” Sunset asked as Rainbow Dash dismounted from the airship last of all of them.

Rainbow cast her eye over the house. “Don’t see why not,” she said as the rear door of the plane slid shut behind her.

Professor Goodwitch didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said much since the mission started, really. Certainly not since they’d taken off. She watched, but she hardly said a word to any of them. She didn’t try to give orders or to complain that Sunset and Rainbow were still giving the orders or anything. She just watched them.

Just like she’d said she would.

“Sapphire, we’ll clear the first floor,” Sunset said. “Rosepetal, the ground.”

“Copy that,” Rainbow said. “Ciel, Penny, you’re not armed for tight quarters, so wait until we give the all clear. Blake, you’re with me.”

Blake drew Gambol Shroud. “Understood.”

“I’m not detecting any movement in this area,” Midnight offered helpfully.

“Well, that’s great, but we’ll still check it out ourselves,” Rainbow murmured.

“I don’t know why I bother,” huffed Midnight.

For a computer, Ruby thought, she’s got a lot of sass. It was… a little weird, but hardly the sort of thing to worry about right now.

There were so many more important things to think about.

Pyrrha led the way into the house; she had Akoúo̱ slung across her back and Miló in rifle configuration in her hands. Jaune went next, then Sunset, then Ruby brought up the rear.

They entered through the shattered patio door, walking around the filthy, dirt and dust-covered dining table while trying to ignore the mould that was growing up the walls and the way that the carpet had worn away in places to reveal rotting floorboards underneath. The boards creaked as they stepped on them, and the thing that convinced Ruby more than anything else that there weren’t any grimm in this house was the fact that if there had been, they would have heard the noise and come to investigate.

They left the dining room and passed into the hall where a decorative plate hung on the wall, and despite the dust and the muck, Ruby could just make out that it had a picture of a huntress in a grey cloak, wielding a pair of what looked like scythes and… was she wearing a mask to cover her face? It looked like there might have been a couple of other plates too, but they’d been smashed to fragments on the floor along with the remains of a table. A spider crawled up the wall towards its web, while a couple of woodlice crept across the floor in careless ignorance of the intruders in their home.

The stairs sagged and creaked under their tread but didn’t give way under any of them, and they were able to reach the first floor, where books mouldered on bookshelves covered in a disgusting layer of muck and a long corridor pointed the way towards a bathroom at the far end. An open trapdoor, with no ladder, led up into an attic.

“Pyrrha, can you check the attic?” Sunset said.

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly as she jogged down the hall, Miló-as-rifle still shouldered and ready, until she stood directly underneath the trap door. She leapt, and she barely needed to grab the lip of the trap as she vaulted into the attic; Ruby heard a thud as Pyrrha landed and found that she could picture her teammate doing so with all her usual athletic grace, red sash and long red ponytail flying out behind her.

They split up to clear the rooms. Jaune went straight ahead down the corridor. Sunset took the first room on the left. Ruby took the first room on the right. A sign on the door – still visible despite the black mould climbing up it from the floor – proclaimed that it was Azure’s Room. Ruby pushed open the door, finding a patch of wood that wasn’t too disgusting to push against. The door swung back with a creak of the hinges, revealing a room where the pink wallpaper was slowly peeling back to reveal the plaster underneath. The bed was pink too, with an equally pink stuffed elephant sitting on it. Dust was everywhere, and dirt was in a lot of places too. There was a… was that Uncle Qrow on the wall?

Ruby stepped a little closer to the bed so that she could see the poster tacked up above it. It was! It was Uncle Qrow, younger but unmistakable to anyone who knew him like she did; she guessed that this must have been from his Beacon days when he was taking part in Vytal Tournaments, maybe. Had he been wearing that same shirt for twenty years?

She noticed that Azure had drawn a heart around his face in lipstick, and Ruby couldn’t help herself as a fit of giggles escaped her lips.

And then she realised that the girl who lived in this room and had a crush on Uncle Qrow might well have died horribly when grimm overran the city, and suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny any more.

Ruby crossed to the shattered window, looking out over the other side of the house from the one they’d landed on. A deserted street ran outside, with overturned garbage cans rusting on the road alongside the remains of crashed cars, fallen lamp-posts, and even, a little way away, an overturned bus. Everywhere, the weeds were coming through the road. There was no sign of any grimm, nor sound that might suggest their presence. There was no movement that Ruby could make out at all.

She glanced at the dressing table that sat beside the window. The vanity mirror had been broken, but there were a lot of bottles and tubes of skin lotion, make-up, lipstick, perfume all piled upon the dusty wood. Along with a scroll.

Gingerly, tentatively, Ruby picked it up. She opened it up almost without a second thought.

She didn’t really expect it to work – it was twenty years old or more after all – but as she opened up the device – it was thicker than the newer scrolls, heavier in her hands, and the screen wasn’t completely transparent – it flickered to life.

“Hey, uh… future me, I guess?” the voice of a girl about Ruby’s age emerged from the old device. There was no picture, but the sound was clear, considering how old this was. “Here we are in our new home. Now that we’re here, I can see why Dad wanted to move out to Mountain Glenn: they could never have afforded a place like this in the city. But everything’s so much cheaper here, and so, we’ve changed our old apartment for this whole house! We have a garden and everything! And thanks to the subway system into Vale, I don’t have to change schools or say goodbye to any of my friends. And I have a room that’s, like, twice as big as my old one. Cerise and Maisie are going to be so jealous of all this space when they come over.

“Mom’s still a little nervous about all of this. She hasn’t said anything, but I can tell. But Dad says that the huntsmen are going to keep us safe, and you know… I believe him. I’ve got a good feeling about all this. I think that everything here is going to be just great.”

Ruby shut the scroll as a frown creased her face. What happened to her? Do I even want to know?

“Is everything okay?” Sunset asked as she came in. “I heard something; it sounded like a voice”

Ruby held up the old scroll. “Turns out, the battery on these things last forever.”

Sunset wandered into the room. She spared a glance for the Qrow poster with its lipstick heart. “Someone had a thing for bad boys.”

“Uh… yeah, I guess,” Ruby said, a trifle nervously as she decided not to give away the fact that the bad boy in question had helped raise her and her sister. She looked down from the poster, at the bed with the pink stuffed elephant. “Her name was Azure.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “You don’t know that she’s dead. She might have evacuated the city before the decision to retreat into the catacombs was taken.”

“She could have gotten out,” Ruby allowed. “But she probably didn’t.” She turned away and once more looked out the broken window. “These people were counting on huntsmen to keep them safe.”

“I’m sure they tried.”

“But they failed,” Ruby said. “Even if Azure got out, even if her family got out… most of the people living here didn’t.”

“The same could probably be said of a lot of the huntsmen,” Sunset replied.

“For what?” Ruby asked. “They gave their lives, but they didn’t save anyone. How… how could they let this happen? Huntsmen are supposed to save people!”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t know enough about the history of this place. It wasn’t something that I ever needed to study, although I know a little about Ozpin’s Stand that came after. I don’t know whether the huntsmen did everything they could or not. I don’t know if they failed or not.”

“They failed,” Ruby said. “Even if they did everything they could, even if they gave their lives. Huntsmen are supposed to save lives and protect people.”

“Maybe that’s not always possible,” Sunset conceded. “Maybe we can’t always win. I’m not going to say that I like the idea, but… I can’t just dismiss it.”

“If we lose Vale, there’s nowhere left to run to,” Ruby said.

“We’re not going to lose Vale,” Sunset said. “Ruby, look at me.”

Ruby turned away from the window and looked into Sunset’s face.

“Maybe we can’t always win,” Sunset said. “But we’re not going to lose here. Not to the White Fang, not to Cinder, not to anyone. We’re too late to save this city, but that doesn’t mean that huntsmen are going to fail in Mountain Glenn a second time. Come on, I’ve finished checking the other rooms, and it's obvious there aren’t any grimm around.”

“Right,” Ruby said. “Hey, Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to stay here for a while,” Ruby said. “It’s a good place to stand watch.”

“We haven’t assigned watches yet.”

“I volunteer to take the first shift.”

Sunset hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Okay. I’ll bring you something to eat once dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Sunset said, before she turned away. She didn’t shut the door behind her, but Ruby lost sight of her pretty quickly anyway, though as she turned to face the window and the dark and unlit street outside, she could hear Sunset’s footsteps joining those of Jaune and Pyrrha heading downstairs.

Ruby looked down at the scroll she was still holding in her hands.

Dad says that the huntsmen are going to keep us safe.

Ruby’s brow crinkled. “Mommy, where are you going?”

“It doesn’t matter, sweetie; it’s just a mission. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“But why do you have to go at all?”

“Because people need me, Ruby; maybe even more than you or Yang need me. Because people are in danger, and I can’t just do nothing. Because saving people… is what a huntress does.”

Ruby didn’t have many memories of her mother, but she still remembered the smile on the face of Summer Rose as she had said that. The way she smiled as she promised to return soon… before leaving on a mission from which she had never returned.

Ruby had never forgotten those words. They were etched into her mind and her heart alike. Saving people was what a huntress did; even if it cost them their lives, they still saved the day.

But all the huntresses and huntsmen had failed at Mountain Glenn.

She let Azure’s scroll fall to the dressing table. Whether she’d made it out or not didn’t really matter now. Even if she’d escaped… there were too many who hadn’t.

“I won’t let this happen to Vale,” Ruby whispered to herself. “I won’t let the city fall, I promise.” She promised Azure, she promised Mom, she promised all the ghosts of Mountain Glenn: she wouldn’t let this tragedy be repeated.

The peace that was purchased with blood that was red like roses had been shattered by Cinder’s actions and Salem’s malice, but the peace would come again. She would make sure of it.

“See anything, Miss Rose?”

Ruby almost jumped as she turned, pointing her gun at Professor Goodwitch, who stood in the doorway with a steaming bowl of something in her hands.

“Professor,” Ruby cried. “I, uh, didn’t hear you.”

“I am a fully qualified huntress, Miss Rose,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I hope that a beowolf on the prowl would be a little less stealthy.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Ruby said, with a nervous laugh in her voice. “So… what brings you up here, Professor?”

“I thought that you might like something to eat,” Professor Goodwitch said, holding the bowl up a little higher.”

“Oh, thanks; you didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But I did it regardless.” Ruby slung Crescent Rose behind her back and took the bowl of dark broth out of Professor Goodwitch’s hands. “I take it then that you’ve seen nothing?”

“No,” Ruby said. “Not a thing. This part of the city seems to be pretty quiet.”

“Don’t let your guard down,” Professor Goodwitch said. “The creatures of grimm aren’t known to give too much advanced warning of their presence.”

“I know,” Ruby murmured. “Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Rose?”

“Why did Mountain Glenn fall?” Ruby asked. “Why couldn’t the huntsmen and huntresses defend it?”

Professor Goodwitch joined Ruby at the window. Darkness had well and truly fallen now, and the moonlight shone down upon them, teacher and student alike, through the shattered bedroom window.

“Miss Rose… Ruby, do you remember the night that you and I first met?”

“Of course,” Ruby said. “You showed up after Sunset and I let Torchwick get away.”

“Although, of course, you caught him later,” Professor Goodwitch noted.

“Sure, but we let him get away that first time,” Ruby murmured. “Professor… did you know that Torchwick was going to be at that dust shop that night? You got there very quickly, too fast for you to have come once you heard about the fight.”

Professor Goodwitch snorted. “Torchwick’s flamboyance was almost his undoing. He walked down the street bold as brass, and someone was brave enough to call it in. I volunteered to attempt to apprehend him and his men.”

“So, if Sunset and I hadn’t been there, then you would have caught him that night?”

“Perhaps,” Professor Goodwitch allowed. “But it’s equally possible, perhaps even more so, that I would not. There is little point in asking questions like that. You can only analyse the actions that you took in the situation that you were faced with, understand what you did wrong, and then do better the next time you’re faced with a similar scenario. Beyond that, wondering what might have been is a pointless distraction. Do you remember what else happened that night?”

“I remember everything that happened that night,” Ruby said. “That’s the night that a whole new part of my life started.”

It was hard to tell, but it seemed as though Professor Goodwitch smiled, if only for a moment. “You told me that you wanted to become a huntress so that you could help others, the way your parents taught you.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “The way they taught me… and the way they showed me, if you know what I mean.”

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “To say that the first duty of a huntress is to help others, to protect them against any danger, is not an inaccurate statement to make. But it would be more accurate to say that the first duty of a huntress is to try.

“We are not superheroes. Although we possess extraordinary gifts and have had the highest standard of training lavished upon us, we’re ultimately only human. Despite our best intentions, we can fail, and fall, as so many did here at Mountain Glenn. Some close friends of mine amongst them.”

“I-”

“My partner at Beacon was a girl named Elphaba Westwick,” Professor Goodwitch continued. “She’s buried here at Mountain Glenn, if 'buried' is the right word for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured, aware that the words were inadequate but at the same time not knowing what else to say.

“She died doing what she loved,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Fighting for what she believed in, as she had sworn to do. But we’re only human. We can fight with all of our strength, and yet, we can fail all the same. All we can do is vow to do better next time. If we are permitted to do so. Do you know what happened after Mountain Glenn fell?”

“Ozpin’s Stand,” Ruby said.

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “The horde of grimm that had destroyed Mountain Glenn swept through the woods towards Vale. Professor Ozpin himself led out every available huntsman and huntress he could muster to stand against them. I was there, and so were your mother and father, and your uncle, Qrow.

“Huntsmen had failed to save Mountain Glenn, but in the three days of fighting that they now call Ozpin’s Stand, with the Kingdom of Vale at stake, we learnt from what had happened there, and we did not fail.

“We don’t need to succeed every single time, Ruby. We only need to succeed often enough to preserve humanity and the kingdoms.”

Ruby had been eating the sticky, spicy broth while Professor Goodwitch had been speaking. Now, she set the mostly empty bowl down on the dressing table. “Professor, can I ask you a question?”

“If you like, Miss Rose.”

“You taught my Mom, didn’t you?”

Now Professor Goodwitch smiled for sure, and unlike her earlier smile, it didn’t fade so quickly that Ruby couldn’t be certain it had ever been there at all. “I had that honour, yes.”

“Could you tell me… could you tell me what she was like?” Ruby asked. “Only I don’t remember very much about her, and Dad doesn’t like to talk about it. It makes him sad.”

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “I can understand why. Your mother… Summer Rose didn’t always appear to be a very serious student. I have to admit that when I first met her, I thought that she was not serious about studying to become a huntress at all. She laughed easily, she sometimes joked around in class, she sometimes preferred having fun with her friends to doing her homework. But when a fight started – be it a battle against the grimm with lives on the line, a tournament match with the whole of Remnant watching, or a simple sparring match in my class – all of that fell away, and she became incredibly focussed: once the fight had begun, then the fight was all that mattered. She never gave anything less than all of herself in battle; she always fought as if there were lives and kingdoms on the line.

“And if she liked to have fun outside of battle, well… nobody who saw her in action would begrudge her the relaxation.”

Ruby smiled. “So, you liked her then?”

“I try not to think about my students in those terms, like or dislike; I’d prefer not to practice favouritism,” Professor Goodwitch said primly. “But I respected your mother’s skills – it was impossible not to, once you’d witnessed them – and, later, her leadership. She was given the leadership of an exceptionally talented team, the most talented that I’ve ever seen walk the halls of Beacon until… but Summer mastered the various egos of her teammates and won the respect, and even the affection, of even those least inclined to give it to her.”

Based on what she’d read of Mom’s diary, Ruby took that to refer to Raven.

“But, perhaps what I remember best of all about your mother was her kindness. No matter the circumstances, Summer’s first instinct was always to see what she could do to help. I think she’d be proud that it’s a principle you seem to have inherited from her.”

Ruby smiled. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Goodwitch said, “Miss Shimmer will be up to take over watch soon, I believe. Goodnight, Ruby.”

“Goodnight, Professor.”

Sunset did indeed relieve Ruby and took up the position that her partner had vacated at the window. There was no need to stand there – she could have chosen anywhere she liked – but Ruby had picked it for a reason: it offered a convenient view of the street outside.

The dead street. As she stood there, at the broken window in this decaying monument to teenage tastes – that man, honestly; who in Remnant or Equestria would find someone like that attractive? He hadn’t even bothered to shave! – she tried to imagine what this street, what this city, might have looked like before it died. With her mind’s eye, she tried to peel back the rust, the decay, the rot, and the ruin, tried to put the cars back on the roads, to right the bins, to plant flowers and trees in the gardens, even as she killed off all of the encroachments that nature had made.

It was hard, verging upon impossible. This was no small matter to conceive of. Even if she had seen pictures of Mountain Glenn in its brief heyday, she would probably have struggled to reconcile it with what she saw before her now. All human life had fled this place, and it had been claimed by older and by fouler things. To challenge that reclamation was almost beyond her powers of imagination.

She could not imagine how this girl, this Azure, had lived in the fleeting days of this city’s glory. For all that she was surrounded by her life, it was nevertheless out of reach of Sunset’s ability to conceive of. It was true that human life in Remnant was, in some ways, permanently under siege, but there were places in the world where that fact was hardly felt. As Professor Port had said in his first lesson, the four kingdoms were safe havens, and the point about a safe haven was that it felt safe; in fact, the feeling safe was almost as important as the being safe. People in Atlas, in Vale, in Mistral, they did not feel as though they were squatting in a fortress while outside it grew dark. They felt safe, behind their walls, protected by huntsmen, under the guns of the Atlesian fleet. Had Azure felt safe? Had anyone in Mountain Glenn felt safe?

They trusted the huntsmen to protect them, that’s what Ruby said. Sunset… well, she supposed it wasn’t too dissimilar from the way it felt to live in Canterlot, which seemed vulnerable to attack and yet escaped attack, and had done for many years. That was the point, in Sunset’s eyes, that ‘for many years’; Canterlot had proven itself to be a safe place. Sunset wasn’t sure that she could have trusted to live in a place like Mountain Glenn, that was new and vulnerable and had no record of protecting its inhabitants.

And yet, Azure had, and so had many others who flocked to Mountain Glenn in hopes of a better and more comfortable existence.

Because they trusted the huntsmen to protect them.

We are not trusted, on our errand of secrecy, but we are no less relied upon.

We are the tip of the spear, and if we are turned aside…

Sunset frowned. They could win. They would win, of that she had no doubt, but… but the cost…

Of the cost, she had grave doubts and misgivings.

How many lives are at stake in this endeavour? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?

How many lives matter to me?

A handful or two, and most of them are downstairs.

It was not very noble of her to admit the fact. It was hardly the sort of thing a hero ought to think, and yet, there it was. She cared little for Vale, or for those who lived there. Who did she even know who lived in Vale? Skystar Aris, Cardin’s ex? Her cousins, whom she had met once? Jaune’s friend who worked in the ice cream parlour? Four people, and all of them tenuous acquaintances at best.

And Flash. She would not see Flash die, not now, not after… not ever, if she was being honest with herself.

Flash’s life, if no other, was worth the salvation of Vale to her, and yet…

And yet…

Sunset looked down upon the dead city as she contemplated the ‘and yet.’ Soteria felt very heavy across her back, the sword of Achates Kommenos, the sword bestowed on her from the treasures of the Nikos family, the sword carried into battle for the last Emperor.

Only one side fought for a just cause, but be in no doubt that there were heroes on both sides. Isn’t that right, Professor?

If Achates could be a hero in an unjust cause, then though she made her cause the little band beneath then… did that even rise to the level of injustice? Was universality required to be just? Did she have to care for those she fought for to do her job?

No, but… it would probably be good if I didn’t resent the possibility that my friends might die for their sake.

And she did resent the possibility. Here, alone in the night, with nobody and nothing to take her mind off it, Sunset found herself confronted with the inescapable fact of that resentment. Wherefore should Pyrrha die, the Evenstar of Mistral snuffed out, a noble and an ancient line extinguished, for the base and ignoble herd of Vale. For Vale? What was Vale to Sunset Shimmer, when set against Pyrrha, against Ruby, against Jaune or Blake or even Rainbow Dash? Wherefore should they die that Vale should live?

Wherefore should Cinder die, that Vale should live? That… that was rotten ice indeed to tread on, yet Sunset’s thoughts inclined in that direction nonetheless. If ever there was a thought that Sunset would not dare voice aloud, it was that she valued the life of her enemy more than those that she was charged to protect. And yet, here, all alone in the night, she could not deny it. Cinder was… Cinder was brilliant: intelligent, erudite, witty, charming; perhaps that had all been a mask, but Sunset did not believe it so. She was worth more than life had granted her. Worth as much more than Vale as many in the company that slumbered down below.

None of them would see it that way. Pyrrha, Ruby, Blake, and even Jaune would not; Ciel would not, Penny would not… Sunset was not so sure of Rainbow Dash. She sought the mantle of the true hero, aped the swaggering soldier’s part, mouthed the pieties of a daughter of the North, but Sunset thought she could see through that, to all the fears that lay beneath. If she ripped off her glove, strode downstairs, and grabbed Rainbow by the arm, Sunset would wager she’d feel as much fear in there as Atlesian pride and esprit de corps. Not for herself; Sunset didn’t think Rainbow Dash a coward, but for Applejack and Fluttershy held captive, for Twilight, for her teammates, for Blake, even for Team Sapphire. She was a leader, and like Sunset, she shared a leader’s fear for those set under her. She shared the fear that Blake was too in love with death – although she didn’t know Ruby well enough to detect that same sickness.

Rainbow… Rainbow might understand. Or she might not. There was no way that Sunset was going to talk to her about it to find out.

As for the rest… Pyrrha was set above the common run of men in part by her willingness to give all for those same men, Blake and Ruby’s flaws needed no further elaboration, Ciel was the Altesian soldier Rainbow Dash only pretended to be, Penny had been made for this, and Jaune… Jaune had too kind a heart to be as selfish as Sunset was with these wild thoughts.

He was too humble to set himself above the vulgar general.

Sunset turned towards the door as she heard a board creak outside.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, holding both hands up as she walked into the room. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Sunset frowned. “It can’t be time for you to relieve me already.”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

“You should try,” Sunset said softly.

“I know,” Pyrrha conceded, but nevertheless, she did not go back downstairs but walked to the window where Sunset stood, standing beside her. Her fair skin seemed almost ethereal under the light of the shattered moon, as though she were a rich garment made of silk, not flesh and blood. The light upon her circlet gleamed more silver than gold, as if a shining star were set upon her brow. “But I fear that I will find sleep difficult in this place.”

“Because it’s so icky?” Sunset suggested.

Pyrrha glanced at her, looking as if she wasn’t sure if Sunset was joking or not.

“I am not looking forward to trying to lie down amidst all this,” Sunset continued. “We shall probably all need to be disinfected when we get home, you do realise that?”

The corners of Pyrrha’s lips twitched upwards. “When we are home, I will endure such a thing, and much else, gladly. For it will mean that we are home, and away from this terrible place.”

“You dislike it for more than the dirt,” Sunset murmured.

“Do you not?” Pyrrha asked. “I feel… I feel as though you especially must feel how oppressive it is to be here.”

“I, especially?”

“You are the most ambitious person I know,” Pyrrha explained. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked out of the window. “And this city mocks ambition, does it not?”

“You are in a melancholy mood, aren’t you?” Sunset muttered.

“Am I wrong?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “No,” she confessed. “No, you are not wrong. Even if Atlas should fall from the sky, it could scarcely be a greater monument to the hubris of men than this vast mausoleum.” She paused. “Now, see, the reason I know that Rainbow Dash isn’t behind me right now is that she’d be choking to hear me say something like that.”

Pyrrha marred her own features ever so slightly with a tiny frown. “Are you trying to cheer me up?” she asked.

“Evidently, it isn’t working,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha didn’t respond to that. She looked away from Sunset, out of the window. “Do you think-?” she murmured. “Do you think that when they built this place, when they made their plans, when they encouraged people to come here, do you think they ever believed that it could fail so catastrophically?”

“If they did, they hopefully wouldn’t have gone ahead with their plans,” Sunset remarked. “We… we rarely see how wrong things can go; that is what separates hubris from bad luck, no?”

“Perhaps it was simply ill fortune,” Pyrrha said softly.

“With an enterprise upon this scale, there was surely some pride involved,” Sunset insisted. “And now, that pride is dead.”

“Like so much else,” Pyrrha agreed. “And mocks all other kind of pride by its mere existence.”

“You are proud,” Sunset acknowledged. “But you are not… the hubris of this place is not in you.”

“Is it not? If hubris is not in one who seeks to save the world, then where shall it be found?” Pyrrha asked. “I feel… in this place, I fear… the thought will not leave me that-”

“That this is the fate of all things?” Sunset guessed. “That our best efforts will be as vain as though who came before us in this place? That is not your vanity revolting; that is your good heart letting the fears that rise like odour from this ruin. Be glad you are not blessed with darker thoughts.”

“Such as?”

“What kind of team leader would I be to put my burdens upon my subordinates?”

“What kind of friend refuses to share their burden with a friend?” Pyrrha countered.

“The friend whose burden is one of leadership, mine and mine alone,” Sunset declared, half turning away to signify that the matter was closed. How could I tell you that my fear is that you will die for a city unworthy of you? Even to say that you are too good a girl for Vale would revolt you, or I fear it would be so.

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “You fear to lose Ruby.”

“I fear to lose any one of you,” Sunset admitted, the words slipping from her mouth. “Perhaps it is simply that this place inclines to thoughts of death, but I fear this mission could make martyrs as easily as heroes.”

Pyrrha glanced down at the floor. “If that is our fate.”

“I would not have it so!” Sunset hissed.

“Nor would I,” Pyrrha agreed. “I would have many years yet… and yet-”

“Don’t say ‘ten thousand fates of death lie all around us,’” Sunset said.

“And yet, our cause may require it,” Pyrrha said. “And how could we refuse so just a cause as this when it demands a sacrifice in blood?” She shuddered. “I will be glad to leave this place; it breeds such sad and melancholy thoughts as easily as it breeds fungus on the walls.”

“I fear such thoughts will tend your way wherever you go,” Sunset replied.

“And your thoughts?” Pyrrha asked. “Will they be cheered to be away from Mountain Glenn?”

“That depends if we are all away from Mountain Glenn,” Sunset muttered. “I would have it so – I mean to have it so if it is at all within my power – but… I fear it is not in that power to safeguard all our lives.”

“Then we must trust that we have power combined to safeguard one another,” Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment, looking out of the window into the dead city street. “I wish we fought this battle somewhere else,” she declared.

“Mhmm,” Sunset agreed.

Pyrrha continued to look out of the window for a moment longer. “Sunset… would you like to hear a joke?”

Sunset blinked. “A joke?”

“Even in this dark place, perhaps especially, we should try and lighten our moods as best we can, no?” Pyrrha explained.

“I suppose,” Sunset conceded. “But all the same… I don’t think I’ve heard you tell a joke before.” She folded her arms. “This will either be very good, or it will be terrible.”

Pyrrha hesitated. “How many Mistralians does it take to change a light?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. How many Mistralians does it take?”

“One,” Pyrrha replied. “But in the grand old days of the empire, hundreds of servants would change a thousand lights upon our slightest whim.”

Sunset stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, cringing away. “That wasn’t very good, was it?”

“It might come better from someone who didn’t still have hundreds of servants.”

“I do not have hundreds of servants,” Pyrrha insisted. “I have about three dozen, or at least, my mother does.”

“Even so.”

“Even so, I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I should have told you a funny story instead.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Humour me,” Pyrrha said. “Please. I cannot sleep in this place, and I do not like the thoughts it breeds in me.”

“Nor I,” Sunset admitted. “Say on, then.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured. “In Mistral, it used to be a custom that the armies of the realm would bring certain chickens, sacred to Seraphis, with them on campaign. Auguries were read into their behaviour, to the extent that no battle could be fought unless the chickens had eaten that day.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Sacred chickens?”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha confirmed. “There are some who say that my ancestor brought his defeat in the Great War upon himself by giving battle although the chickens had not eaten that day, and that if he had waited until another day when the chickens ate, he would have overthrown the Valish King.”

“I’m not sure the Last King would have given him the chance,” Sunset replied.

“Perhaps not,” Pyrrha agreed. “In any case, though there are no more Mistralian armies now, the tradition has been inherited in the arena. No day of matches, though it has been scheduled on every television network, can be held unless the chickens eat.”

“Surely, that can’t be a rare occurrence,” Sunset said quietly.

“You would not think so, but it once caused considerable embarrassment,” Pyrrha told her. “You see, the final of the tournament is traditionally held on a weekend, to ensure that everyone can see it either live or on television without work getting in the way, and so when the chickens flatly refused to eat, the whole thing had to be postponed for an entire week.”

“When was this?”

“Two years ago,” Pyrrha said. “Every Saturday, Arslan and I would go to the Temple of Seraphis not far from the Colosseum, and every Saturday, we would watch the chickens flat out refuse to touch their feed, to which the priests and the officiants could only shrug and say that it would have to be postponed again. One month, this went on, with the television people getting increasingly frustrated and even the fans beginning to grow restive. And so, on the fifth week, I went to the temple alone because Arslan was nowhere to be seen – or so I thought. When I got there, I discovered that Arslan had beaten me to it, wearing a chicken costume and making clucking noises, bending down to mime eating corn off the ground. And when I asked her what in Mistral she was doing, she told me that she was reminding them of what to do, since they had clearly forgotten how to feed themselves.”

“I do not believe a single word of that actually happened,” Sunset declared. She grinned. “But I think it would be marvellous if it did.”

“It’s all true,” Pyrrha insisted. “Every word of it.”

“I know that Mistral is a land steeped in tradition, but that’s a bit much,” Sunset replied. “All the same… it doesn’t need to be true to be a good story.” She scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Did you… I don’t suppose that-?”

“I did go down to the farm in the morning, before Professor Ozpin’s speech,” Pyrrha admitted. “I know that they aren’t sacred animals, but still.”

“Did they eat?” Sunset couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, after only a slight hesitation.

“Thank you for telling me that too,” Sunset said.

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Sunset?”

“Yes?”

“Since we’re both awake, would you like to see if we can start training your semblance now?”

Sunset considered it for a moment. It wasn’t something that she particularly wanted to do, but on the other hand, they both seemed as though they could use all the distractions available to them right now.

“Very well,” she said. “Where do we begin?”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The name Sky is later used for one of Jaune's sisters, so the girl here is renamed Azure. Also, an additional scene between Sunset and Pyrrha is added, because those are always a delight to write.

Right Where I Want Them (New)

Right Where I Want Them

Cinder stood atop one of the high buildings beneath Mountain Glenn, upon one of the pinnacles of the subterranean under-city, and looked out across this dark, eternally enshrouded world.

There was little light here. The men who built this place had attempted to illuminate the ceiling, had even attempted to apply a touch of artistry to their endeavour, but it was a faint effort, insignificant in the face of the darkness with which that light contended. Even the street lights that had been erected to light the way beneath her lofty place had failed long ago.

Darkness ruled here, darkness and death, and in the darkness, it made a natural home for grimm and faunus both alike.

Or so she would have thought, at least. The White Fang had rather spoiled the effect by stringing some lights around the edges of their camp, the areas that they most frequently patrolled, the places that they looted for their supplies. Crude dust lamps and portable camp lights beat against the darkness.

The faunus – most faunus – could see in the dark, and yet, they feared it nonetheless.

They feared to be here in this dead place.

For herself, Cinder felt no fear. She felt only… anticipation.

They had come. Sunset and all the rest. They thought they had been discreet, landing upon the outskirts of the city, but the eyes of the White Fang were not blind, and their airship had been observed. Nevertheless, Cinder had let them land. No, there was no 'nevertheless' about it. Cinder had let them land because she wanted them to land, she wanted them to come here into the darkness, she wanted them to play the parts that she had written for them.

She wanted Sunset to prove to her, once and for all, that Cinder had not misjudged her nature: selfish and callous.

Considering the circumstances of her flight from Beacon, considering that she had had but very little time to devise a new plan after the collapse of the old one, all things considered, Cinder felt that she had every right to feel pleased with herself. In just a day, she had composed a new drama, prepared the stage, cast her actors and her clowns.

Some of those clowns were a little unhappy about their parts, but Cinder cared not. The structure of this alliance was not flat, but mountainous, with her standing alone at the summit, in the stratosphere. She saw all things and decided all things, and they should think themselves honoured to be allowed to act in accordance with the dictates of her lofty vantage.

Destiny was driving them on, inexorable and immutable, bearing them swiftly forth to immortality, to glory beyond imagining, to power beyond challenge.

The hour was near. The curtain was set to rise. All things were in preparation. She had her enemies right where she wanted them.

Cinder looked out across the city. She had already plotted out the route her enemies should take. The route that she wished them to take.

The route she would make sure they took.

She wondered for a moment how they were feeling up there, with the stars overhead; were they confident? Did they think that they stood a chance at besting her? Were they nervous? Did they fear to go into the dead city? Did they shiver in apprehension? Did Rainbow Dash want another crack at her, did proud Pyrrha Nikos eagerly anticipate smiting Cinder to lay her low amongst the bodies, or did they tremble at the thought of their situation?

It mattered not. Be they ever so bold-hearted, be they ever so wary and so nervous, the outcome would not change.

All things would proceed precisely as she willed.

It was fitting that it should begin here. She had not, admittedly, chosen the location not for any reason of poetry but because it happened to offer access into Vale, but the more she thought about it, the more glad she became that fortune had brought her hence.

This place was a monument to the arrogance of men, to their pride, to their vanity, to their delusional belief that they could withstand the powers of death and darkness, hold off the grimm indefinitely, that the world would bend to their ‘progress.’ And the world in all its terror had reminded men that it was not so.

How fitting, then, that this should be the place where Ozpin’s vanity would start to crumble; where the Mistralian pride of Pyrrha Nikos, the Atlesian bravado of Rainbow Dash, all of it would turn to dust and ashes here in the dark, as the hubris of Vale had done before.

And as for Sunset… this would be the great tragedy of her life.

Until, or unless, she accepted the truth: that there was no place for the likes of her in the ranks of the defenders of humanity.

Cinder glanced upwards; she could not see the stars, of course, but she was aware of them, hanging far above, looking upon the world even as Cinder dwelt below, both of them gazing upon the surface of the world from different places.

She had been born under the sign of Python, the great serpent, and thus, according to those who read auguries into such things, she was destined to be cunning, false, and treacherous. Cinder, for all that she was sustained by her belief in the inevitability of her own destiny more than by food or water, was not certain whether she believed that. Whether she wished to believe that. Was she who she was, and as she was, because the stars decreed it so? Or had she been made thus by Phoebe Kommenos, and would have been thus Cinder Fall had the fairest stars twinkled down upon her orphaning?

Pyrrha Nikos, of course, had been born under the sign of the Three Horses, the steeds that had pulled the chariot of her namesake long ago; that meant that she was valiant-hearted and noble in her spirit. Not content with such, upon her birthday, a comet had streaked across the sky, portending greatness for the Evenstar of Mistral.

Or would she have been Pyrrha Nikos anyway, showered with all the gifts the world could bless her with, had she been born ‘neath Python as Cinder had?

Cinder believed in destiny. It was her comfort and her consolation on cold dark nights, it excused her failures, it promised brighter days to come, it promised greatness and glory and power and all the treasures of this world. It promised that one day she would have no more need to hide in darkness, one day she would stand on the pinnacle under the light of the sun and all would bow before her.

She believed, and yet… and yet… and yet, why was it her destiny to suffer as she had, to endure all that she had? Why did destiny torment her so before it would grant her reward?

Destiny was her comfort, but there were times also when it felt like a curse.

It mattered not. If the fault was in her stars or in herself, nevertheless, here she stood, high above the rest, waiting.

And yet, she wondered about Sunset’s star. What star had made her, what celestial body had gifted her with such power?

How had she come by the magic that she wielded as if by right?

There would be time to learn that, and all the other answers she desired. Sunset would see, once this battle was done, once she was forced to choose, then she would understand that there was no place for her in the armies of the self-righteous, no place amongst Ozpin’s pristine white chess pieces. She belonged in the ranks of the unworthy, the outcast and the unclean, amongst those who must help themselves because the world gave them no succour.

She belonged at Cinder’s side.

“Cinder?”

Cinder looked over her shoulder. Emerald stood behind her, cringing apologetically at the interruption, as well she should.

She tries to serve you well.

Cinder frowned at that. That nagging little voice in her head, those feelings that she could not place, they had died down since her flight from Beacon, but vestiges of them yet fluttered in her mind and soul.

She knew not where they came from, but they prodded at her nonetheless.

“Straighten your back, Emerald, and do not fear me,” she said softly. “I will not harm you.”

“Of course you won’t!” Emerald said, though her voice trembled regardless. “I just… I know that you don’t like being disturbed when you’re thinking.”

“It is of little consequence; I had reached the end of my thoughts in any case,” Cinder informed her. “What do you want?”

“Adam wants you,” Emerald told her.

“I see,” Cinder said softly. “Thank you for telling me.” She stared towards the staircase leading down to the street level of the underground.

Emerald hesitated for a moment. “Cinder?”

Cinder stopped, almost level with Emerald herself. “Yes?”

Emerald glanced away. “This new plan… the White Fang… they’re all going to die, aren’t they?”

Cinder’s expression was without expression. “Yes,” she answered, plainly and without evasion. “Very likely most of them will.”

“Then why?”

Cinder smirked. “Why what?” she asked, a touch of amusement flavouring her voice.

“Why throw them all away?” Emerald asked.

“Why do you care?” Cinder asked archly. “Are you beginning to sympathise with these faunus?”

“They are our allies,” Emerald pointed out quietly. “And they could… couldn’t they be useful?”

“For what?” Cinder asked her.

“They’re an army,” Emerald said.

“No, they are an armed rabble who think themselves an army,” Cinder replied. “They would fall to pieces if deployed in battle against real soldiers. Yes, it is true, I had originally intended to unleash them upon Vale, but without the distractions that would have been provided by the virus and its attendant havoc upon General Ironwood’s toys, I am afraid there is no way that this host can be trusted to accomplish anything if hurled against the walls of Vale. All that they would do is die, and therefore,” – her smile widened – “better that they should do it in service to some meaningful purpose, no?”

“I… I suppose so,” Emerald conceded. “But still…”

“The bloodshed shocks you?” Cinder asked.

“No!” Emerald said immediately. “Well, I suppose…”

“No great undertaking has ever been achieved without bloodshed in the history of Remnant,” Cinder told her. “And this will be no exception. The path ahead will be difficult, and we must make sacrifices to achieve our ambitions… but that is how we know the reward will be worth our toil. Now come. Let us not keep Adam waiting any longer.”

Emerald trailed behind Cinder, dogging at her heels, as Cinder descended down into the street and returned to the White Fang camp. She did not miss the way they looked at her, the hostility in their eyes. Most of these faunus had as little love for her as Gilda had; even Adam, the most outwardly cooperative of them, served her only out of desperation, not love or loyalty.

She cared not. She did not need their love or their loyalty; she only needed their obedience, for just a little while longer. So let them stare, let them glare, let them wonder why they bent their necks and backs to a human, let them question why Adam obeyed her instructions as he did, let them wonder everything and anything and wait for the day they would be free of her influence.

The day of liberty was coming soon, after all.

She found Adam near the train, with a map of the under-city resting upon a folding table, illuminated by a small lamp, the dull yellow glow of which spread out across the paper. The map was hand-drawn and crude in places; it had been drawn by the White Fang themselves as they scouted the area when they moved in; as might be expected, they didn’t have access to the old plans and blueprints held in the archives of Vale.

She trusted this map more; it was based on live experience and accurate to the moment. Sunset and the rest would be relying on charts twenty years out of date, without reference to the destruction of buildings, the opening up of sinkholes and the like. She hoped they weren’t too inconvenienced by it. If they were inconvenienced too much, then that might inconvenience her, and that was something she did not want.

Indeed, she might go so far as to say that she could not afford it.

This new plan of hers would be brilliant… but it would also be tight. If anything went slightly wrong, then it would all fall apart and be for nothing.

She would not let that happen.

Adam was alone. Cinder was glad of that. She didn’t want to have to argue with Gilda or have to compete with the bird faunus for influence over Adam.

She preferred to have him all to herself. It made it so much easier to get what she wanted.

As she approached, she could not help but rub her victory in a little, saying, “No Gilda?”

Adam grunted. “I thought we’d be more productive without her.”

“Or did you simply grow tired of her carping?” Cinder asked.

“She is my second,” Adam reminded her. “She is due her candour.”

“She is the worst kind of second,” Cinder said. “She abuses her freedoms, complains in the safety of speculation, and claims foresight in disasters that never happen.”

“That have not happened yet,” Adam replied. “The journey is not yet done.”

Cinder leaned forwards, placing her hands upon the table. “Do you doubt me, Adam? Do you fear that I am leading you astray?” She stared into the eye-slits of his mask as though she could see through it to the eyes beneath. “All that I have promised you will come to pass: victory, the destruction of your enemies-“

“Then why does Blake sleep soundly up above?” Adam demanded. “Why do the whores who stole her from me sleep sound when I could descend upon them right now?”

Call Sunset a whore again, and I will rip out your tongue. Cinder took pause a moment, if only so that she could speak without undue anger. “The time is not yet come.”

“When?”

“Not yet,” Cinder insisted. “We must play this out a little longer. What is it that you want, Adam? Is your revenge more important to you than your cause?”

Adam bared his teeth at her. “I want her to suffer.”

“And she will,” Cinder promised. “Believe me. Trust me. Now, have your people removed all of the booby traps from New Street Station?”

“Most of them,” Adam replied tersely.

Cinder raised a single curious eyebrow. “'Most of them'?”

“We did not make careful notes of where we placed every trap,” Adam snapped. “And I lost three men from accidentally setting off our own devices; I would not risk any more combing through that place looking for bombs that we have forgotten. Our enemies will have to take their chances.” He paused. “Besides, if they do stumble across a few traps, it will make the station seem like less of a trap, don’t you think?”

Cinder grunted. He had a point, as much as she was loath to admit the fact. Upon arriving at Mountain Glenn, the White Fang had boobytrapped most of the subway stations that provided entrance to the underground from above, to prevent them from being used to attack them and to avoid having to spare men to guard them. But Cinder had decided that the best station for SAPR and RSPT to enter through would be New Street, the largest and grandest of Mountain Glenn’s stations, and so, she had ordered the White Fang to dismantle their traps there to make things easier… and more tempting.

But things could be too tempting. Sunset and Pyrrha were not stupid; they would know when a thing was too easy. It might, indeed, be good if they had to do a little work to get down here.

“Once they have descended,” Cinder said, ignoring Adam’s last comment, “they will have to move through this mall adjoining the station. I will have them emerge from this east entrance and proceed down this road,” – she traced the road, long and straight, with her finger – “towards the rail yard.”

“You think they know we’re here?” Adam asked.

“I think they’re not to be underestimated,” Cinder replied. She had already underestimated them once, to her cost. “They know that there are only a few locations in this city large enough to camp an army encumbered by dust and gear of war. Speaking of dust, have you detonated all of the escape exits along the tunnel?” Some of the exits had been sealed by the Valish themselves after the fall of Mountain Glenn, to prevent grimm from popping up too close to Vale itself undetected, but others – the ones closer to Mountain Glenn itself – had remained. Cinder was determined to close such easy outs.

“I don’t know why you had us waste so much dust,” Adam grumbled.

“Was it done?” Cinder demanded.

“Yes,” Adam admitted.

“Good,” Cinder replied.

“Are you going to explain why?”

“No,” Cinder said. “I don’t think I will.”

Adam exhaled loudly out of his nostrils. “This may be your plan, but these are my men, my resources-”

“Resources which you obtained with my help,” Cinder reminded him, cutting him off. “You would not have dared to dream of this without me. Do not forget that.” She stared at him, her gaze like smouldering embers burning into him until he looked away, like a spurned dog fearful of its master’s wrath. Cinder smiled. “In order to delay the progress of our enemies until the train is ready to depart, my team will ambush them as they head down this road.”

“'Ambush'?” Adam repeated. “There are probably nine of them and only four of you, and she is no fighter.” He gestured to Emerald with a nod of his head.

“I can fight!” Emerald squawked in outrage.

Adam smirked. “Can you?” he asked, his tone one of sceptical amusement. “Not well enough.”

“I-”

“Quiet,” Cinder said, holding up one hand to stay Emerald’s tongue. “Perhaps Emerald is not the greatest of warriors,” she conceded, ignoring the sound of Emerald sucking in her breath behind her, “but she has other talents that will aid in our success, and in any case, Mercury, Lightning, and myself are all more than capable of picking up the slack.”

She believed every word that she had spoken, and yet… and yet, there was a part of her that wished for more men, not out of fear but because she wished to fight Pyrrha alone, one on one; that would be difficult to do with only Mercury and Lightning to distract the others and keep them from piling in on Pyrrha’s side.

Pyrrha might be honourable enough to engage her in single combat, but those around her were from a different tradition and could not be trusted to observe the Mistralian way.

And yet, what could she do about it? Even if her pride would unbend sufficiently to ask Adam for troops, any forces he could supply would be, on the evidence, hopelessly inadequate.

“We should weaken their numbers now,” Adam insisted.

“I have said no!” Cinder snarled, and for a moment, a spark of flame blazed in the corner of her eye as she slammed her palm down upon the table. “We are not here to indulge your thirst for bloodshed!”

“Whose thirst are we here to indulge?” Adam asked.

“Sarcasm does not become you, Adam Taurus,” Cinder said coldly. “Put her aside. Put all your anger towards her aside. Focus on the prize, the real prize. I am about to make you immortal; when this plan is complete, you will be the faunus who breached the defences of Vale. The name of Adam Taurus will never be forgotten. Is that not what you wish? To be lionised above all the other heroes of the freedom struggle? Is that not worth a little restraint?”

Adam was silent. His hands clenched into fists. His body trembled. Cinder could see his desires warring within him, his zeal for acclaim warring with his desire for retribution.

She had come to him, above all others, because he was like her. She had seen that from the moment that she’d seen him. Yes, there were others that she could have approached – mercenaries, rogue huntsmen – and she had gone to the White Fang, yes, because they had large forces, but… but when she had looked at Adam’s face, for all that he tried to hide himself being a mask, she had known: here was someone she could understand. Someone who had known the cruelty of the world, who knew what it was to be powerless.

Someone who wanted power and glory and all the things that he had been denied.

Someone who wanted to take revenge on those who had wronged him.

Cinder would be lying if she claimed she did not understand that too, but he would have to learn restraint – and patience – as she had. There would be time for settling scores later.

Well, perhaps.

“'Lionised'?” Adam repeated.

“You will be their hero,” Cinder said.

Adam snorted. “I am already that.”

“Of course you are,” Cinder added quickly. “The Sword of the Faunus, but how much higher will you be raised in the general esteem when your sword descends upon Vale? You will have done what not even Ares Claudandus dared to do and put one of the four kingdoms to the torch! No faunus will have ever risen higher. No one will have risen so high since ancient times when first the topless towers of Mistral burned, nor will rise again, most likely. You will have earned your place in history: to the faunus, a hero to be celebrated while the race of faunus lasts; to men, a monster to terrify the children for untold generations yet to come.”

He smiled. He tried to conceal his glee at the prospect, but he smiled nonetheless. “Very well,” he growled. “Let them have their lives for just a little longer. How do you intend to ensure that they go where they will and nowhere else?”

Cinder smiled. “The grimm will herd them; I do not think they will be eager to engage in unnecessary fighting; they will avoid the grimm concentrations, and seek out areas where the grimm are not.”

“And the grimm will not descend upon them?”

“No more than they have descended upon you and your forces,” Cinder replied. She smiled. “The grimm do not move save by my command. They are as quiescent as an army awaiting the bugle call.”

“I see,” Adam muttered. “Very well then.” He began to turn away, but stopped. “Unless there’s anything else?”

“No,” Cinder replied. “Nothing else that we need to discuss.”

“Good,” Adam said, and walked away.

Cinder watched him go. “Emerald?” she murmured.

“Yes, Cinder?”

“Follow him, discreetly,” Cinder told her. “Let me know if he does anything… unwise.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“He is at war within himself,” Cinder informed her. “I am not yet certain the battle is concluded.”

“I see,” Emerald murmured. “I won’t let you down!”

“If I thought you would, I wouldn’t have set you to do it,” Cinder replied blithely. “Off you go.”

With Emerald sent upon her way, Cinder… Cinder had nothing to do but wait. She could not sleep. She was driven beyond the need for sleep, gnawed at by a hunger that would not let her rest. When she closed her eyes, no dreams would come; there was nothing but a blackness, a void in which she was lost with her thoughts, in which her desires warred with her fears.

She could not sleep. For her ambitions, she had murdered sleep. The wings of destiny had carried her beyond the need for rest.

She had all the dreams that she required here in the waking world.

Nevertheless, she did not wish that fact to become too widely known, lest she be looked at with even more suspicion than she already was – if some of the White Fang knew why she required no sleep, their hostility might become outright mutiny – and so, she retired to her billet, an abandoned bar not far from the railway yard which might have been intended to serve the workers when their shifts ended. It was a little way away from the White Fang camp, but not too far, and it was private. It had solid walls through which none could see that Cinder would sleep no more.

“All things are prepared?” the voice of Salem emerged out of the darkness a moment before the light of the Seer began to illuminate the empty bar. The grimm sphere clicked as it glided through the air towards her.

Cinder descended to one knee. “Everything, Mistress. The White Fang have proved to be capable servants. In a short time, they have prepared everything as I wished.”

“Not quite as you wished,” Salem corrected. “Do not forget that this plan was conceived in haste after the collapse of your first.”

Cinder gritted her teeth. “Yes, Mistress, but this new plan will succeed. It may even be more successful than the first.”

“Do not grow overconfident so soon after a crushing failure,” Salem admonished her, her voice sharpening and acquiring a bite like a beowolf. “Leave crowing over your success until after the battle.”

“Yes,” Cinder muttered. “Of course.”

“Cinder,” Salem said softly. “I do not say these things to hurt you. I have every confidence in your abilities and your devious new scheme. So much confidence do I have that this will be the last time that we speak for a while, until Arthur reaches you with a new Seer.”

“'A new Seer'?” Cinder repeated. “What is going to happen to-?”

“You tell me that Ozpin has taken a new group of young protégés into his service,” Salem said. “I want to see for myself what they’re made of. Ozpin always makes such… interesting choices. Some so strong, others so very weak. I want to observe this latest class and perhaps see for myself which will break in spirit… and which shall have to be consumed in body.”

The fire dust crystal glowed a dull and angry-looking red, casting its light around the little campfire cooker, as the brine in the pan on top of the cooker began to boil, cooking the hot dogs within.

Winona, the dog that Gilda was looking after for Applejack, raised her head and sniffed the air; her tongue hung out of her mouth a little bit as she panted eagerly.

“Yeah, yeah, they’re almost done,” Gilda murmured, reaching out with one hand to pat the dog upon the head as she watched the brine boil and the sausages cook before her eyes. With a fork that was mostly free form rust – everywhere that would touch the food, at least – she prodded the little hot dogs – they came out of a can, which meant they were small and probably barely qualified as hot dogs, but they were the right kind of sausage, and the best that you were going to find in Mountain Glenn – around in the pan as the brownish liquid bubbled up and began to spit up at her, the hot droplets dissipating harmlessly off her aura.

It was at that point that Gilda knew the hot dogs were done, so she skewered them, one by one, out of the pan and onto a plastic plate, before turning off the cooker and pouring out the brine onto the ground away from Winona or her feet.

“We don’t have any buns,” Gilda said apologetically, as much to herself as to Winona, as she picked up a warm hot dog between her fingers. “But I guess that won’t bother you so much, will it, huh?”

Winona barked and started to devour the hot dog out of Gilda’s hand, wolfing down the sausage in quick, eager bites, before licking Gilda’s fingers for any tasty trace that remained.

“That’s the spirit,” Gilda said. “Fill your boots, girl.”

“Why do you have that dog?”

Gilda looked up and around. Strongheart stood nearby, arms folded, watching her with curiosity in her eyes.

Gilda straightened up. “Somebody has to,” she said. “Unless you want to kill her.”

“No,” Strongheart said immediately. “But…”

“But what?”

“It’s an Atlas dog.”

Gilda snorted. “It’s a dog. I don’t think it knows anything about Atlas.”

“You know what I mean,” Strongheart insisted. “It belongs to an Atlas huntress.”

“It’s still just a dog, and it needs taking care of,” Gilda replied. “Hungry?” She held out the plate with its remaining hot dogs.

Strongheart sat down and gingerly reached out to pluck a hot dog from off the plate. “Some people say,” she began, but then started eating.

Gilda let her chew for a moment. “'Some people say-'?” she prodded.

Strongheart swallowed. “You know what they say.”

“That I’m too soft on the Atlesians?” Gilda suggested.

Strongheart nodded. “That you should let them get what’s coming to them.”

“Those people can kiss my ass,” Gilda spat. “That’s not who we are.”

Strongheart didn’t reply.

Gilda looked at her. “What do you think?” she demanded as she skewered a sausage on the end of her fork and bit down on it.

Strongheart took a moment to say, “I think Cinder should have killed them both, like they killed my father. But… since she didn’t kill them… I don’t think we should hurt them.”

Gilda swallowed, nodding slowly. “Because it’s the right thing, what we do; we fight who we have to, and we hurt who we have to, but we don’t enjoy it.” Except for the ones that do.

“And you’d say that even if they weren’t friends of your friend?”

“Rainbow Dash isn’t my friend no more, and they certainly aren’t,” Gilda insisted, even though she would have preferred it the other way around. “But one of them isn’t even a huntress; she’s got no business being mixed up in all this.”

Strongheart frowned. “What do you think will happen to them?”

Gilda sighed. “I’ve got no idea,” she admitted. She didn’t know, and it worried her, honestly. The obvious answer was that whatever her ladyship wanted to happen to them would happen, which might be letting them go or more likely would mean killing them both. And when she made that decision, Gilda wouldn’t be able to protect them any longer, because Gilda…

Gilda would probably be dead herself.

Unless… maybe I could get them out sooner. But get them out where? It’s a long way to Vale; maybe Dashie could pick them up? But then, she’d know where we were.

Except we’ll be on the move before she has a chance to do anything about it, the pace that Cinder’s setting now.

“You’re thinking about letting them go, aren’t you?” Strongheart asked.

“You’re too smart for your own good, kid,” Gilda replied. “Or my own good, at least.”

“Why?” Strongheart demanded. “Why would you even think about something like that?”

“Because if I do nothing when I know they’ll die, if I let that happen, then it’s no different than if I killed them myself,” Gilda declared.

“Is that it?” Strongheart asked. “Is that the only reason?”

Gilda frowned. “What other reason would there be?”

“You don’t want to be on the train,” Strongheart said.

Gilda chuckled. “If I’m not on the train, it will be because Adam cuts me in half for what I did, might do, whatever. The point is, this isn’t about me finding an excuse to run away. Trust me, if I wanted to leave, I could have done it a while ago.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because as much as I think that this is a terrible idea, I owe it to the rest of you to be there when it all goes down.”

“And see that you’re wrong,” Strongheart said.

Gilda was silent for a little while. She chewed. She swallowed. The softness of the hot dog did not alleviate the slightly sour taste in her mouth. “I’m not wrong,” she said quietly. She closed her eyes for a moment. “Strongheart,” she said, “what do you think is going to happen? When we burst out from underground and into Vale, then what?”

Strongheart’s brow furrowed in thought. “Then… then we win,” she said, as though it were some kind of game, and they’d just met the victory conditions. “We take them by surprise; we-”

“And how long is that going to last?” Gilda demanded. She put her plate aside – down on the ground, where Winona could devour the remaining sausages – and got to her feet. “You’re right, when we break through, we’ll have surprise on our side, and because we’ve caught our enemies by surprise, we’ll get the chance to flood through the streets without anyone getting in our way except maybe a couple of cops in the wrong place at the wrong time. But how long do you think that is going to last, huh? Minutes, is my guess. Minutes before the Atlesian airships coming swooping down on us, guns strafing us in the streets. You’ve never been under air attack, have you?”

Strongheart shook her head. “You?”

“Once,” Gilda said. “I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”

“Were you afraid?”

“I was helpless,” Gilda told her. “And so was Blake, and Perry, and Cotton, and everyone else, whether they had a gun or not. They were up in the sky, hitting us from far out of our range, and there was nothing we could do except hide and pray!”

“Couldn’t you-?”

“Fly up at them? Yeah, I tried that, and I nearly got my wings shot off,” Gilda snapped. “That’s what we’ll be up against when the surprise wears off, all their airships hitting us, while we can’t do a thing about it.”

“The Paladins-”

“They’ll get taken out first,” Gilda said. “They’ll hit those with rockets, then they’ll open up their cannons on the rest of us on foot. Those of us who aren’t shot down, or blown up will have to take cover inside the nearest building we can get into, and at that point, our momentum will be gone, the attack will be stalled out, and we’ll be done. We might not be dead, but we’ll be done. The Paladins can’t hide, so they’ll be picked off if they haven’t been blown up already. And then…” She sighed. “And then it’s a question of whether or not the Atlesians are willing to blow up parts of Vale bombing us out or whether they’ll send in their androids ahead of their infantry and their specialists to go house to house, hunting us down like rats. And that’s without mentioning the grimm coming up behind us, because they’ll be hunting us too! That… that’s the only future that I see for us when we get on that train. And I wish it weren’t so, believe me, I wish it weren’t so, but… but I can’t lie about it. I won’t. Not to please Adam or to make you feel better.”

Strongheart’s face was pale. Her voice, when it came, trembled a little. “You… you’re wrong!” she cried. “You’re wrong, and we’re going to win, and everything that we’ve suffered will be worthwhile!”

Gilda hung her head. “I wish that I could believe that, I really-” She stopped abruptly, turning to look at what she’d seen out of the corner of her eye.

Adam was stalking through the camp towards the building where Applejack and Fluttershy were being held.

Adam could not escape their faces.

He had tried. He had tried to take Cinder’s words to heart. He had tried to focus upon the glory to come, upon the triumph that would be his, the acclaim that would be his due as the leader and the liberator of the faunus. He had tried to focus on the day when he would be lionised, when he would break the chains and burn the towers of the oppressors.

He had tried. He felt as though he had two souls within his body, warring for control, the one that sought to be a good leader for the White Fang, that sought to focus on the battle and all that would flow from it. And the other… the other that could not escape their faces.

They were laughing at him. Blake, Rainbow Dash, Sunset Shimmer, all three of them. He could see their faces as he sparred with the androids: smirking, giggling, mocking. They thought him weak. They thought him a coward. They thought that he did not dare to face them.

“Which will I choose?” Blake pondered, her tone teasing, her posture coy, one hand raised to her lips and the other hand upon her hip. “Beacon or Atlas? Sunset or Rainbow Dash?”

Adam scowled. “You are mine! You will always be mine!”

Rainbow Dash snorted. “Yeah, right. Come on, dude, we took her away from you.”

Sunset reached out and put one arm around Blake’s waist. “Blake belongs to us now.”

“Not while I live!”

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Sunset asked.

“Considering that we’ve kicked your ass every time we’ve met,” Rainbow added.

“I won’t let you have her.”

“You didn’t even have the guts to face me on the train,” Rainbow taunted. “You ran like a scared little-”

Adam roared wordlessly, bringing his sword down upon Rainbow’s face, slicing her in half – and slicing in half as well the android which had been behind his fantasy.

He stood in the makeshift training ring, alone, his enemies defeated around him… except they weren’t, were they? His enemies were up there, in the city, laughing at him.

They had come here to laugh at him. They had dared to come to Mountain Glenn because they feared him not.

He could not bear it. He could not bear to imagine their laughter, their mockery, their disdain. He could not endure it. He would not. He would not ignore their presence; he could not sleep knowing they were so close.

Knowing that she was so close.

He had to act, even though Cinder forbade it.

He would start… he would start with the Atlesian dog, the one who thought herself his superior. He would show her how much stronger he had become.

And he knew just how to draw her out.

He sheathed his sword and began to stride across the camp towards the prisoners’ location.

Twilight by Starlight (New)

Twilight by Starlight

Twilight’s drones hovered around the landed Skyray, maintaining a perimeter and scanning constantly for any sign of the creatures of grimm or the White Fang or any other intruder who might threaten them. Meanwhile, with the doors of the Skyray securely shut, Team TTSS and their guest, Twilight Sparkle, dined upon field rations torn from their packs.

It was not the best-tasting food in all Remnant – quite the reverse, in point of fact – but they were filling and nutritious, even if you didn’t really want to eat them. And Twilight couldn’t complain too much, because her hosts of TTSS had been considerate enough to let her take the mac and cheese, which was apparently recognised as the best of a set of okay-to-bad options, while they were stuck with the likes of beef goulash and pulled chicken in barbecue sauce which… apparently strayed from their namesake inspirations a little bit.

“The urrrrsa major advanced, grrrrowling in and snarrrling,” Trixie narrated, rolling her r’s like the tossing of a ship upon the stormy sea. “Grrrrrr,” she added, making a sound that was almost more like a purr than a growl.

Starlight watched all of this with a fond smile playing upon her face. Sunburst’s face was downcast; he picked at his food with a plastic spork. Tempest’s expression resembled that of a stone wall, every bit as flat and hard, except that a wall would not have suffered the slight twitching of one eye that betrayed the fact that she wanted to stuff food down her ears.

But then, she hadn’t been present for this particular action. Neither had Twilight, of course, but she had been in Canterlot at the time. Early last year, when Rainbow and Applejack – and Starlight – were still in their first semester at Atlas, Vice Principal Luna had suffered a nasty health scare: lymphoma, serious enough to put her in hospital. Serious enough to be touch and go for a while. Fortunately, she’d responded to treatment and gotten back on her feet with seemingly no long-term side-effects, but there had been a moment when it seemed like she might not make it.

Twilight wasn’t a doctor, but the whole community of Canterlot had rallied around Vice Principal Luna, and Twilight had sufficiently fond memories of the place – and of Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna – that she had gone back there to help out how she could. She’d run a marathon to raise money for cancer research – beating both Applejack and Rainbow Dash in a fluke upset – Pinkie had organised a bake sale, they’d all helped out around the school how they could to take some of the load off Principal Celestia.

Everyone had done what they could to keep Canterlot positive, but considering what was going on, it wasn’t surprising that a little negativity had slipped out. It must have been that negativity that brought the grimm. The creatures of grimm were very rarely seen in Canterlot – it was one of the luckiest places in Remnant in that respect – and it wasn’t as though a horde of them had descended upon the town, but Twilight knew that a few ursai had probed the edges of the town before the likes of Rainbow and Applejack had taken care of them.

And Trixie, apparently.

“The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie was all alone,” Trixie declared flamboyantly. “But Trrrrixie was not afrrrrraid! With one swish of her wand, the Grrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrixie-“

“Killed it,” Tempest said flatly. “As any one of us could have done.” She glanced at Twilight. “Even you, Twilight.”

Twilight thought about her encounter with an ursa in the Emerald Forest. “Maybe,” she said warily. “And I wouldn’t have done it with the same amount of flair as Trixie, I’m sure.”

Trixie’s face had gone distinctly sour when her story was interrupted, but she managed to muster a small smile. “Why, thank you, Twilight. It’s nice to hear someone appreciate Trixie’s skills.”

“I appreciate your skills; you’re a decent huntress,” Tempest said. “You’re just a terrible storyteller.”

Silence descended in the Skyray, like an embarrassing relative descending on a family gathering, one to whom nobody knows quite how to respond.

“So, um…” Sunburst began. “Twilight, what’s new with you lately?”

“Apart from the fact that the rest of my team has been assigned a mission to one of the most ominous places in Remnant, you mean?”

Sunburst winced. “Yeah… other than that.”

Apart from the fact that I just learned that the world is not quite what I thought it was? Apart from the fact that I just found out that the grimm have a leader providing them with intelligent direction? Apart from the fact that one of her servants just kidnapped my friends and I don’t know if they’re still alive or not?

Wow. A lot’s happened recently, hasn’t it?

“Not much,” Twilight said.

“'Not much'?” Sunburst repeated incredulously. “Come on, Twilight, everyone knows you got attacked in the tower!”

“She doesn’t have to talk about that if she doesn’t want to,” Starlight said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Sunburst said quickly. “I just-”

“I should see if I can reach Rainbow and the others,” Twilight said, getting to her feet and walking around Starlight to cross into the cockpit of the airship.

She settled down in the pilot’s chair. It felt weird to be there – the co-pilot’s seat felt like the more natural place for her to sit – nevertheless, she had flown them in, she was the pilot. Starlight, who was talented at everything she turned her hand to, had been her co-pilot, but Twilight had been the pilot for this flight, just in case they needed Starlight to do huntress things at any point that would take her away from the controls.

But the pilot’s seat felt strange to her. It was Rainbow’s seat, it didn’t belong to her, for all that the airship didn’t belong to Rainbow.

It was complicated, and it probably didn’t make a lot of sense, but it was how she felt nevertheless.

Still, Twilight sat down in the pilot’s seat anyway and fiddled with some of the controls on the board in front of her, setting the frequency and boosting the signal strength a little bit.

She grabbed the handset off the wall of the cockpit and held it up to her mouth. “Rainbow? Rainbow Dash, this is Twilight. I mean, Rosepetal Lead, this is Rosepetal Four, come in, over?” No response. Twilight took a deep breath in and out and pushed her spectacles back up her nose. “Rosepetal Lead, this is Rosepetal Four, come in. Rainbow, this is Twilight; can you hear me?”

Still no answer.

Twilight leaned back against the headrest, pressing against it as if she were trying to push it back. She took another deep breath, and then another. She closed her eyes. Calm. She had to stay calm. Just because they weren’t responding yet didn’t mean that there was anything wrong. Mountain Glenn was a communications dead zone; that was all. She just had to keep trying. She’d get a signal through eventually.

“You’re very brave,” Tempest said as she stepped into the cockpit. “You might not want to talk about it, but it bears saying.”

Twilight glanced at her. “My friend is somewhere in a dead city right now, while I’m safe back here with you four; why am I the brave one?”

Tempest settled down in the co-pilot’s chair. “I didn’t say that you were the brave one; I simply said that you were brave. One brave girl, among many.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, I still don’t see it.”

“As Sunburst said, everyone knows you were attacked on Saturday night,” Tempest said. “Everyone knows that you nearly died.”

“Does ‘everyone’ really know that?” Twilight asked, faintly aghast at the notion.

“Everyone who matters,” Tempest said blandly. “Just as everyone who matters knows that you are not a fighter, and everyone who matters wonders just what you’re doing here, Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight looked at Tempest and said nothing. There was nothing to be said, not about that, anyway. What was she supposed to say, that it was classified? That she wanted to retrain as a huntress? No, best to say nothing. Let the subject fall away. Make it clear that this, too, she did not want to speak of.

“And yet here you are,” Tempest said. “Not here in general; I mean here, specifically, out in the field. Your near death experience is but two days past, and here you are.”

“With you.”

“With us,” Tempest allowed. “But all the same, the world does not stop being a dangerous place just because we are in any part of it.”

“I feel safe with you,” Twilight said softly.

Tempest stared at her for a while, her face inscrutable. “No,” she said. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“You think I’m lying?” Twilight asked.

“Nothing so insulting,” Tempest replied. She paused for a moment, then raised her hand to her face and traced her index finger down the scar that ran down her face. “My life changed in a single moment the day I got this,” she declared. “Before I got the scar, I was somebody, and afterwards, I was somebody different. That’s how it works sometimes, isn’t it? Our lives can change in… in the blink of an eye.”

Twilight looked away. It wasn’t that Tempest was wrong; it was the fact that she was right. Not about the attack; that had been a lot of things, but life-changing wasn’t one of them. No, it was everything that followed on from the attack, everything that had come after, the revelations that had piled on top of one another like mountains, the revenge of Cinder, all of it in just one day. She wouldn’t go so far as to say that she was a different person now, but at the same time, she had gone through a door that she could not go back through again. She had taken steps that could not be untaken. She opened her eyes, and they would never close again in the same way. No matter what she did or where she went, she would never be able to forget what she knew now.

And if that was not some kind of change, then what was?

“What was it like?” Tempest asked.

Twilight glanced at her. “Changing?”

“To be in that tower, alone,” Tempest clarified. “Alone with someone who wanted you dead?”

Twilight squirmed. “I… I wasn’t alone for long,” she said, which wasn’t an answer at all, of course.

Tempest leaned forward in her seat. “I know what it’s like,” she said. “To be moments from death, to think that your life is already over. It’s… I wish I’d been there.”

“In the tower?” Twilight asked.

“We all wish that we’d been there in the tower with Twilight,” Trixie declared as she walked into the cockpit, trailed by Starlight like a shadow. “We all wish that we’d been there to give that little snake what for.” Her nostrils flared as she looked down at Tempest Shadow. “Go and check the perimeter.”

“Isn’t that what the drones are for?” Tempest asked.

“Stop bothering Twilight and do it anyway!” Trixie snapped, gesturing with one imperious hand towards the door.

Tempest held Trixie’s gaze for a moment, then she got up and brushed past her two teammates. One of the side doors on the Skyray slid open with a hiss, and Twilight heard, but could not see, Tempest leap down to the ground beneath.

“Sorry about that,” Trixie said, slipping into the seat that Tempest had recently vacated.

“It’s fine,” Twilight.

“No,” Trixie replied. “It’s not.” She folded her arms. “There’s nothing worse than someone who has lost their joy.”

“We should be better friends to her, Trix,” Starlight murmured.

“Why? It’s not like she wants our friendship.” Trixie responded. “I don’t know what she’s even doing here in the first place! She despises glory, she hates acclaim, and don’t tell me that she wants to help people when she doesn’t seem to like anybody.” She pouted. “And she looks down on the rest of us. One glance from her, and Trixie has to remind herself that she is Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrful, and not a fraud.”

“No one thinks you’re a fraud, Trixie,” Twilight assured her.

Trixie raised one eyebrow sceptically.

Twilight shifted in her seat. “Not once they got to know you,” she corrected herself.

“We don’t exactly make much of an effort with Tempest,” Starlight said. “And I include myself in that. I understand why we don’t, but still… not that that excuses what she did.”

“She didn’t do anything,” Twilight said softly.

“Were you uncomfortable?” Starlight asked.

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then she did something,” Starlight said.

“She was right about one thing, though,” Trixie admitted. “We do wish that we’d been there.”

“Only… only because you weren’t there,” Twilight murmured. “Cinder… Cinder’s pretty strong.”

“So are we,” Trixie declared.

Twilight’s eyes flickered between Starlight and Trixie. It was true that Starlight was very good, but Trixie… Trixie was no slouch either; Twilight hadn’t lied when she said that the other girl was no fraud, but was she in Cinder’s league? When Rainbow Dash had barely managed to hold her own against Salem’s servant?

But then again, Rainbow didn’t have the ability to shut down semblances the way that Starlight did. Maybe they’d have seen how tough Cinder was without the ability to play with glass the way she was doing at the tower?

Maybe. Or maybe Trixie or Starlight could have gotten seriously hurt.

“Things worked out okay,” she said, smiling a little, or trying to, at least.

“Trixie supposes so,” Trixie conceded. “Have you had any luck reaching Rainbow Dash yet?”

Twilight shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Then Trrrrixie will let you get back to it,” she said, getting to her feet, her boots thumping a little on the floor of the airship. “After all,” she added, a smirk playing across her face, “Rainbow needs to be able to reach us when the time comes to holler for help, right?”

Twilight snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”

“Of course you should,” Trixie replied. “That’s why I said it.” She stepped out of the cockpit, pausing to say, “Starlight? Aren’t you coming?”

“Give me a second, okay, Trix?” Starlight said, her eyes not leaving Twilight.

“Okay,” Trixie replied. “But you’re the one who said she didn’t need to talk about it.”

“I know,” Starlight said, but nevertheless, she became the latest person to sit down in the co-pilot’s chair, perching upon the edge of it so that she looked as though she might fall off at any moment, resting her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together. She glanced back into the main body of the Skyray. Twilight glanced back there to to see that it was empty.

“Where-?”

“They’re all checking the perimeter,” Starlight explained.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because…” Starlight trailed off. “Have I ever thanked you for helping me out when I needed it, after my… trouble last year?”

“More than enough,” Twilight replied.

Starlight didn’t respond to that. “I know that certain things are classified,” she said, “and I trust you when you say that what we don’t know isn’t putting this team in danger. Because you’re my friend and I trust you. Just like you know that you can trust us, right?”

Not with this, Twilight thought. She had to admit, seeing the way that Sunset had dealt with the revelations around Salem, she thought that Trixie might take it all better than most – she and Sunset were alike in the size of their egos, if nothing else – but Starlight, well, no offence, but Starlight had already cracked under pressure once.

Starlight looked out of the cockpit window for a moment. “Some secrets…” she began. “You remember that… just before I had my… just before I went… just before that, that was when Vice Principal Luna gave everyone that scare, going into the hospital.”

Twilight blinked. “You know about that? Did Trixie tell you?”

“Not exactly,” Starlight muttered. “General Ironwood was…” She hesitated.

Twilight frowned. “Starlight, I don’t understand.”

“Does the term ‘Winter Maiden’ mean anything to you?” Starlight demanded, looking Twilight straight in the eyes.

“'Winter Maiden'?” Twilight repeated.

Starlight nodded.

“No,” Twilight said. “No, I’ve not heard that term before, what does it mean? It sounds like some kind of holiday thing, like the Amity Princess.”

Starlight’s smile was thin and a little drawn. “Not exactly,” she said. “It’s… it doesn’t matter. I’ll… I’ll let you get back to trying to raise Rainbow Dash.” She let out a little nervous laugh that began awkwardly and descended swiftly into excruciating by the time it was done as she got up and left the cockpit as quickly as she could.

Twilight pondered for a moment. Winter Maiden. No, she had never heard the term before. Why had Starlight expected her to, and what in Remnant did it have to do with Vice Principal Luna and her health?

She shook her head. She had more important things to think about right now. If need be, she could always ask Vice Principal Luna herself about it later.

Right now, she had a job to do.

She switched to a different frequency, and picked up the handset once more. “Rosepetal Lead, this is Rosepetal Four, do you read me?”

Starlight didn’t know whether to sigh with relief as she leapt down from the Skyray to the grass beneath her feet… or whether she ought to still feel concerned.

Relief, because it wasn’t what she had feared it was. She wouldn’t have been able to explain why she had thought that what Twilight and Rainbow were now involved in was connected to the existence of magic – Starlight felt kind of bad keeping that a secret from Twilight, what with the fact that she was so convinced, rightly, as it turned out, that it was real, even though some of her best friends didn’t believe her, but General Ironwood had been insistent that it had to be kept a secret – but, well, they were involved in something. And Twilight and Rainbow had been called up to the tower to see General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin the night after the dance and the attack, and they had both been there to tell Starlight…

“We are telling you this, Starlight Glimmer, because we believe that you are next in line to receive the Winter Maiden’s powers.”

“'Next in line'? What’s going on? I don’t understand, who are you?”

“We are the protectors of this world.”

Starlight shivered at the memory. Nobody knew the real reason why she’d run away. She hadn’t been allowed to tell anybody – which was part of the reason why she’d run – and so everyone thought that it was just the pressure of leading a team, the pressure of high expectations, maybe seasoned with the fact that people treated her like a potential villain because of her semblance.

None of that had been great, to be sure, but she could have lived with it. Being on her own with no friends at Atlas hadn’t been great either, but she could have lived with it.

But finding out that she was expected to take on the burden of… of magic, to be the Winter Maiden and spend her whole life hiding the fact, to both become something set apart from the rest of the world and at the same time be unable to express the whole of what she was… it had been too much for her. She hadn’t been able to handle it, and so… so she had run. She had run, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost her mind in the process.

It had taken the help of some very good people to bring her back from that.

“All you need to do is make a friend, and you’ve got six of them right here.”

“Your semblance sounds pretty cool, although obviously not as impressive as Trixie’s magic.”

“Starlight! I can’t believe it; it’s incredible to see you again!”

“Even though I’m not your partner, we have matching relics, so we’ll be on the same team, right?”

“Although your partner leaves something to be desired, The Grrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie will ensure that your team does not! Join me, and together, we’ll be the grrrrreatest team there’s ever been.”

“Team Tsunami, huh? Listen, if you tell Trixie I said this, I’ll deny it, but between you and me… you got pretty lucky out there.”

A soft smile played across Starlight’s face. Yes, she had gotten pretty lucky. She hadn’t even had to explain herself to General Ironwood. She hadn’t spoken to him at all since arranging her deferral of the remainder of the year and trying again next year – this year – as a freshman cadet. He certainly hadn’t brought up the Winter Maiden again. Having shown that she was not suitable to receive the powers, the issue had been closed.

Next in line, my ass. You picked me because you thought I was good for it, and then you found out that I wasn’t.

Starlight felt a little guilty, sometimes, for the way that she’d handled it; not for not wanting to take on the burden, but for the fact that if Vice Principal Luna hadn’t responded well to treatment and made a full recovery, then someone else would have been tapped to take the Winter Maiden’s power instead.

Someone like Rainbow Dash. To be honest, Starlight was a little surprised that she hadn’t been General Ironwood’s first choice, what with Dash being the General’s protégé and all. It was one of the things that had convinced her that she had to get out: General Ironwood didn’t want Rainbow Dash to get this power, ergo these powers were not something to covet; she was being offered not a blessing, but a curse.

And yet, the General had gone to Dash for… something. Starlight didn’t know what. Twilight hadn’t been lying about not knowing what the Winter Maiden was; Starlight had been watching closely, and there was no deception in her eyes, in her face, her voice. Twilight wasn’t good enough a liar to fake that, not to fool Starlight.

She wasn’t involved in that business, and yet…

And yet, she was involved in something, Rainbow Dash too, and Blake. Something had drawn them to Mountain Glenn, something had led to the attack on the tower, something… something else was going on.

That was worrying, especially the fact that it meant – or at least strongly implied, that General Ironwood was keeping even more secrets than the existence of magic in the world.

Is there even more going on that I still don’t know about?

“Starlight?”

Starlight started a little bit as she noticed Trixie standing beside her. “Trixie,” she said. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I know; you were too busy brooding,” Trixie observed, a slight smile playing upon her face.

Starlight chuckled. “I guess,” she admitted.

“Worried about them?” Trixie guessed.

I’m worried they’ve gotten themselves involved in something too big for them. Something even worse than the Winter Maiden. “Yeah,” Starlight said. “I mean… the place they’ve gone isn’t exactly friendly.”

Trixie slapped her hand down on Starlight’s shoulder. “That’s why the Grrrrreat and Powerrrful Trrrrrixie and her glamorrrrous assistant Starlight are here, to rrrrrescue them if things get a little too much for Rainbow Dash.”

Starlight smiled, if only a little. “I guess,” she murmured, looking away from Trixie and up towards the night sky, where the shattered moon hung above their heads.

I just hope it’s enough.

She caught sight of Tempest, making her way around the rear of the airship. An uncomfortable frown creased Starlight’s face.

“Starlight?” Trixie asked.

Starlight glanced at her. “Perhaps you ought to apologise?” she suggested.

“For what? For stopping her from creeping Twilight out?” Trixie demanded.

“She might have had good intentions,” Starlight murmured.

“Trixie doubts that very much,” muttered Trixie.

“Trixie,” Starlight said reproachfully. She sighed. “Fine, I’ll go talk to her.”

“You’re wasting your time,” Trixie insisted, but Starlight ignored her and turned away, walking across the grassy field to intercept Tempest on her way.

“Hey,” she said, nervousness infecting her tone. “See anything out there?”

Tempest raised the eyebrow above her unmarked eye. “Some stars. A moon. Starling, isn’t it?”

Starlight let out a sort of nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty quiet. We’re lucky.”

“We’re lucky we have the drones so we don’t have to depend on our eyes,” Tempest replied. “And yet, our glorious leader has us doing this make-work anyway.”

“Trixie is giving Twilight some space,” Starlight declared. “She needs it, with everything that’s going on.”

Tempest’s eyes narrowed. “And what is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

Tempest snorted. “Just because you don’t like me, don’t take me for a fool, partner,” she said. “This is not an ordinary sort of mission.”

“I don’t dislike you,” Starlight said. “Although, if you think that I do, then I suppose that means that I’m doing something wrong anyway. I’m sorry; that was never the impression that I wanted to give. It’s just that-”

“I’m not the easiest person to be around?” Tempest suggested. “Believe me, I’ve noticed. And for what it’s worth, you don’t have to apologise; you can dislike me if you want. I might even prefer it. It’s more honest.”

Now it was Starlight’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “'Honest'?”

“What’s really going on here?” Tempest asked. “On this mission, I mean?”

“You think I know something you don’t?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you and Trixie to keep a secret from me,” Tempest replied. “Regardless, isn’t it obvious that this is not an ordinary mission? Why send students into a place like Mountain Glenn? Why send two teams? Why have a third team tied up in reserve? Why are we doing this instead of undertaking a real mission-?”

“You know the answer to that: we’re here because Twilight asked for us,” Starlight said. “Because she trusts us.”

“And you trust her?” Tempest demanded. “Even though you know that she is keeping things from you? Even though General Ironwood is keeping secrets from us?”

“I may not trust General Ironwood, but I trust Twilight,” Starlight replied. “She wouldn’t deliberately endanger this team in any way.”

“And yet, here we are,” Tempest said. “Ready to leap into action in grimm-infested territory.”

“That’s the job,” Starlight said. “It’s what we signed up for. You know what I mean; Twilight wouldn’t hold information back if that information would keep us alive. I trust her. Trixie trusts her. You should trust her too.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Tempest declared. “I’ve learned the folly of it too well already.”

“Trust isn’t a folly,” Starlight said. “And neither is friendship.”

“The folly is trusting in friendship to last,” Tempest declared. “It may be a pleasant thing for times of peace, but when the chips are down, these bonds that you think you share will shatter like glass, and Trixie will turn on you to save her own hide. And Sunburst. And Twilight. Just as you will turn on Twilight and Rainbow Dash and-”

“That’s not going to happen,” Starlight’s voice rose a little as she insisted upon the point. “That will never happen.”

The shadow of a smirk flitted across Tempest’s features, gone so swiftly, Starlight wondered if it had actually been there at all, or if it had been her imagination all the while. “We’ll see,” she murmured. “Or not, if you’re lucky.”

A Gift of Kindness (New)

A Gift of Kindness

“Rosepetal Four to Rosepetal Lead, do you-?”

Rainbow snatched the handset off the wall of the Skyray. “I hear you, Twilight; I’m right here.”

Twilight sighed with relief on the other end of the line, “Thank goodness,” she said. “I was starting to think that I’d never get through to you.”

Rainbow leaned back in the pilot’s seat. “I, on the other hand, had every faith in you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” Rainbow insisted. “I am every bit as honest as Applejack… most of the time.”

Twilight snorted.

“Seriously,” Rainbow told her, “I knew that you’d find a way.” She smiled, for all that Twilight couldn’t see it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Except I’m not here, am I?” Twilight said, and Rainbow was glad that she didn’t hear any resentment or self-recrimination in Twilight’s voice, just a simple statement of the facts.

“Well, you told me Midnight was based on your brain using fancy science, right?” Rainbow asked.

“I flash-cloned my neural pathways as a map for Midnight’s processors, yes,” Twilight agreed.

“And Midnight’s here,” Rainbow pointed out. “So, in a way, you’re here too. And, now that we can talk to one another, you’re kind of here in a different way. And when your drones show up-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Twilight acknowledged. “I’m not going to say that I wish I was in the city with you, because to be honest, I don’t, and if I did, I’d be an idiot, but I am glad that I get to support you in some way. In a way, I get to have your back for once.”

Rainbow snorted. “You’ve always had my back, Twi, one way or another. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, you know that.”

“Yeah, I gave you a chance to die for Atlas,” Twilight declared. “Go me.”

Rainbow chuckled, even though it really wasn’t very funny. “Well, it beats dying for the SDC.” Or getting branded on the face by the SDC. She still hadn’t heard anything from Cadance about that; she had no doubt that Cadance was looking into it – she wouldn’t lie to Rainbow, promise action and then sit on it – but there were a lot of demands on a Councillor’s time, and it was probably hard to drill through the layers of SDC money to get to the truth.

Twilight sighed. “You know, when you say things like that… it kind of makes it seem as though Blake has a good point.”

“Blake… Blake had bad methods,” Rainbow said. “She had really, really bad methods, but she always had a point, and she always had her heart in the right place. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have wasted my time on her.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Twilight replied. “I mean… how can you justify a system where the only options open to you are both life-threatening, either in the military or working for Jacques Schnee?”

“Because it’s the only one we’ve got,” Rainbow said. “This isn’t a video game where we get to start over and make better choices on the tech tree.”

“I think you mean the Decision Tree,” Twilight said. “Technically speaking, I think we’ve made the right choices at every turn.”

“Come on, Twilight, you know I didn’t have the patience to play that game; I can’t remember exactly what everything in it was called,” Rainbow said. “The point is… yeah, it’s not perfect, but we’re kind of stuck with it, and so, perhaps we should try and make it better from where it is instead of burning it all down to be sure of getting rid of the bad stuff. It’s not like Salem’s going to give us the chance to rebuild.”

“No,” Twilight murmured. “No, I guess not.”

“I think Blake gets that now,” Rainbow said, tilting her head back to look up at the stars out of the cockpit window. “And because she gets it… I think she’ll do great things for Atlas some day.”

“You’re that confident, huh?”

“I’m reeling her in,” Rainbow declared. “Little by little. Sunset can growl about it all she likes, but she’s not even trying to fight back; she’s just fuming about it. She hasn’t even tried to sell Beacon or Vale to Blake the way that I’ve been pushing Atlas.”

“You sound like the guy you bought The Bus off of.”

“Hey!” Rainbow cried. “In the…” She laughed. “You know, I don’t know whether to say that The Bus turned out fine in the end or that Atlas isn’t a heap of junk. The point is… she’s going to be great.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “Rainbow Dash, you know that-”

“Enough about me, Twi, how are you doing out there?”

“Fine,” Twilight assured her. “The food’s not great-”

“It never is,” Rainbow interjected.

“-but there are no signs of any grimm.”

“And Team Tsunami?”

“They’re as kind and considerate as you’d expect.”

“Has Tempest given you trouble?” Rainbow asked.

“No!” Twilight said firmly. “She’s just… she’s a little… intense.”

“That’s one word for it,” Rainbow muttered. “Did Trixie tell you the story about the time she took down that ursa major?”

“Yes,” Twilight admitted. “But it is a good story.”

“I know,” Rainbow replied. “So… you’re okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” Twilight said. “Hey, Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever heard of something called 'Winter Maiden'?”

Rainbow frowned. “No. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “Starlight dropped the name but didn’t give any details. I thought you might know. I thought it might be some kind of military secret.”

“Does sound like it could be a codename, but you’re the one who worked on Penny.”

“I can assure you, Penny is not Winter Maiden,” Twilight said. “We never used a codename like that for her when we were working on her. So it’s nothing you know about?”

“Like I said, you’d know more about weapons projects than I do.”

“It doesn’t sound like the name of a weapon, more like a… VIP or something.”

“Starlight didn’t give you anything else?”

“No,” Twilight said. “I think… it was like she hoped it was connected to what we’re doing here. She suspects something is going on.”

“Something is going on,” Rainbow said. “We just can’t tell her what it is.”

“Mhmm,” Twilight acknowledged. “So, how are you? How’s… that place you’re in?”

“We haven’t really scoped it out yet; we only just landed and found a place to settle down for the night,” Rainbow explained. “But it’s… not a pretty sight.”

“No,” Twilight murmured. “No, I don’t suppose it is. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“With the help of your drones, we’ll search for a way underground that isn’t guarded by the White Fang or close to any grimm we’d have to fight our way through,” Rainbow said. “We don’t want to waste time fighting our way through them, and the noise might give us away.”

“Do you really think they don’t know you’re here?”

“They haven’t attacked us so far,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Cinder invited you to come,” Twilight reminded her. “She wants you here.”

“Wanting us here isn’t the same as knowing we’re here,” Rainbow said. “We stand a better chance of beating this trap if she doesn’t know that we’re in it.”

“And… if she does know?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow paused. “Then we’d better be tougher than anyone or anything that she has on her side. Anyway, now that we know we can talk, we should both get some sleep; I’ll contact you again in the morning when we’re ready to move out.”

“Wait!” Twilight cried, “before you go, we should link your scroll to my Skyray so that I can contact you on the move.”

“Right,” Rainbow agreed. “Talk me through it.”

“Get your scroll out,” Twilight said.

“Done,” Rainbow said, getting her scroll out.

“Now, adjust the frequency-”

“How?”

“Select point to point mode-”

“What?”

Twilight sighed. “No wonder it took so long to find the right frequency. Okay, start at the very beginning. Do you at least know how to open your settings?”

It took longer than maybe it should have done for Twilight to teach Rainbow how to switch the settings on her scroll around so that she could reach Twi and TTSS’s Skyray even without a CCT relay in the area, but eventually, they managed it, meaning that come morning, Twilight could coordinate her drone searches from the safety of the distant airship with Rainbow and her team on the ground. Only then, with that done, did Rainbow and Twilight bid one another goodnight and end the call.

Rainbow sat for a moment in the pilot’s seat, looking up out of the cockpit window at the stars.

They might be in a dead city, they might have ruins and worse than ruins all around them, but the stars sure were pretty tonight.

It kind of reminded Rainbow of Canterlot; Twilight said it was because there were fewer streetlights, so you could see the stars better. That… well, it was kind of grim when you thought about why there were no streetlights here in Mountain Glenn, but even so… the stars sure were pretty.

Rainbow sighed and stood up and was about to leave the airship and rejoin the others in the house when her scroll started to buzz.

It was Fluttershy.

Rainbow swallowed as her throat dried up. Her stomach froze. Her hand began to shake as she moved towards the button that would answer the call.

She could barely bring herself to touch it. She forced herself to do so anyway.

“Cinder,” she growled.

“Not this time,” the voice of Adam Taurus issued out of Rainbow’s device.

Fluttershy looked up as the door into the room creaked open. For a moment, she expected Gilda come visiting again. A smile began to form upon her face.

Until he stepped in, and the smile died upon her face.

She hadn’t gotten his name, but it was clear that he was Gilda’s superior in the White Fang.

It was also clear that he was a scary person. He scared her, at least, though she tried her best not to seem afraid. She tried not to flinch or cower. She tried to be brave, like Applejack. Applejack didn’t flinch; Applejack didn’t whimper; Applejack looked at this man, who was so tall and so powerful, squarely in the face.

He ignored her. His attention, as best as she could tell, what with the mask covering his face and hiding his eyes, was all on Fluttershy.

He smirked. “Your outfit is ridiculous,” he observed, with mockery in his voice.

Fluttershy was wearing a butter yellow dress that descended down to a little above her ankles; the skirt had a modest-sized bustle protruding out the back – less noticeable now that she was sitting down, admittedly – and folded, almost ruffled layers of fabric descending the front in a U shape, with hints of white petticoat protruding out from underneath. Knee-length pantalettes embraced her legs, while her feet were clad in white boots, with black soles, toes, and heels. The shoulders of her blouse were puffed, and the sleeves descended down to just below her elbows, leaving her forearms bare down to the wrist, where her hands were enclosed within a pair of white gloves. There was a green cravat tied around her neck which was getting ever so slightly uncomfortable. She had possessed a safari hat with a green band around it, but someone had taken that away. She hoped they enjoyed it, whoever they were.

“My friend Rarity made it for me,” Fluttershy replied. She hadn’t felt comfortable telling Rarity that it was… well, just a little bit much, and maybe not the most practical outfit. Rarity had spent so long on it, after all, and tried her best.

He snorted. “Then your friend is a fool, and you are one too for indulging her.”

“My friend is very generous,” Fluttershy insisted. “Although that might not be something that you understand.”

“Perhaps not,” he allowed. “I have not received much in the way of generosity.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Applejack muttered.

Now he looked at Applejack, and his whole body seemed to stiffen as he crossed the room towards her, looking down upon her, looming over her. In the little light that existed in the room, he cast a shadow over Applejack.

One hand balled into a fist.

“Don’t!” Fluttershy cried. “Please, don’t!”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, but said nothing. To Applejack, he said, “You’re a huntress, aren’t you?”

Applejack licked her lips. “Eeyup.”

“Then there is no reason why I shouldn’t kill you, is there?”

“Please-” Fluttershy began.

“Fluttershy,” Applejack said. “Easy now.”

“Answer the question,” he demanded.

“Nope,” Applejack replied. “'Cept that if you meant to kill me, I reckon you’d have done it already.”

“Perhaps I only needed you alive as bait for your friends?” he suggested.

“Maybe,” Applejack allowed. “But they ain’t here yet, are they?”

“They’re in the city,” he declared, making Fluttershy gasp.

They came? But I told them not to! I said not to do it! Why would they come anyway?

“But they ain’t down here yet, are they?” Applejack replied.

Whatever he might have said in response to that was interrupted by the door flying open as Gilda burst in.

“Boss!” she yelled, before she came to a stop inside the room, her golden eyes glancing across Applejack, Fluttershy, and her boss.

He half-turned towards her. “Yes, Gilda?”

Gilda paused. She rested one hand upon the open door. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing that concerns you,” he said.

Gilda shrugged. “If there’s nothing going on, then it doesn’t matter if I stay, does it?”

He stared at her – or Fluttershy thought he did; again, it was hard to tell with the mask – for a moment. “Do I have to give you an order, Gilda?”

“Might be best if you didn’t, boss, then I don’t have to disobey it.”

“You would disobey me?”

Gilda grinned. “We’re all a bunch of rebels here, boss; it’s a hard habit to kick.”

He sniffed. “Gag this one,” he commanded. “I have no interest in what an Atlesian huntress has to say.”

Gilda hesitated for a moment. A frown creased her brow. But she muttered, “Sure thing, boss,” and as he walked away from Applejack, Gilda approached her in turn.

“Sorry about this,” she whispered to Applejack, but she gagged her all the same. Applejack didn’t protest it; she didn’t make a sound as Gilda put the gag in her mouth and tied it. She just kept watching him as he circled Fluttershy like a shark.

“My name is Adam Taurus,” he declared. “Have you heard of me?”

“No,” Fluttershy said softly. “Should I?”

“I am the most feared commander of the White Fang,” he boasted. “I am the Sword of the Faunus, the champion of my people, the destined instrument of our liberation. I am a wanted man in all four kingdoms-”

“But I still haven’t heard of you,” Fluttershy apologised. It was a different White Fang commander who gave her nightmares; despite their current predicament, Adam Taurus still didn’t frighten her as much as Chrysalis did.

Adam grunted. “You heard me say that your friend Rainbow Dash is in the city above us. Do you hope that she will try and rescue you?”

“No,” Fluttershy said.

Adam stopped. “'No'?” he repeated in a tone of surprise. “You don’t wish to be rescued?”

“I don’t want my friend to get hurt or worse for my sake,” Fluttershy replied.

“Your friend,” Adam said. “Your faunus friend, isn’t it her job to die for you?”

“Of course not!” Fluttershy cried. “Because she’s my friend, whether she’s a faunus or not, and if anything happened to her because of me, I… I don’t want anything to happen to her because of me. Is that so hard for you to believe, don’t you have any friends of your own? Don’t you have anyone that you care about?”

“I had someone I cared for very much,” Adam growled. “Someone who meant everything to me, someone I thought that I could trust, someone who promised to stay by my side, no matter what!”

“What happened to them?” asked Fluttershy, in a voice that surprised herself with how calm it sounded.

“Your good friend Rainbow Dash happened,” Adam snarled. “Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer, they took her away from me!”

“I see,” Fluttershy murmured. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me, so that Rainbow Dash will know how you feel?”

Gilda tensed visibly. “Boss-”

“Quiet!” Adam snapped, not turning his gaze away from Fluttershy for a moment. “You sound very calm for someone who might soon be dead. Do you not care whether you live or die?”

“I care,” Fluttershy murmured. “But I’d rather die than ask my friends to die for me.”

“How very un-Atlesian of you,” Adam muttered. “Your whole damn kingdom is built upon asking my people to die for you.” He paused. “What is your name?”

“Fluttershy Breeze,” Fluttershy whispered.

“And what are you doing here, Fluttershy?” Adam asked. “What are you doing here, in that ridiculous outfit, you who are no huntress but might perhaps be braver than any huntsman I have ever met?”

“I… I was walking across rural Vale,” Fluttershy admitted. In this place, in front of these people, saying it out loud… it seemed rather ridiculous, really. A silly thing to do in this day and age, and a rather selfish way of putting Applejack in danger. “I wanted to study all the different animals and birds that live beyond the cities.”

Adam was silent for a moment. “Birds,” he said, his tone hard to read. “You were captured studying birds.”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said. “Partly.”

Again, it took Adam a few moments to respond. “You like birds?”

Fluttershy nodded. “My semblance lets me talk to them.”

“Really?” Adam asked, and he sounded genuinely curious now, almost enthusiastic. “What does that sound like? Do you hear them as you hear me?”

“Not really,” Fluttershy said. “With my ears, I still hear the same thing that you hear: tweeting and cheeping and chirruping. It’s just that I can understand what they mean by it, in my… in my soul, I suppose you’d say, since it’s my semblance.”

“Yes,” Adam murmured. “Yes, that does make sense. As you say, it is your semblance.” He turned away from her and walked towards the door, still open from Gilda’s entrance. He closed it with surprising gentleness. “You’re very fortunate in such a power.”

“I think so,” Fluttershy said, concealing her surprise that he thought so too.

Adam sighed, a surprising sound to hear coming from him. “When I was a boy, I used to love birds,” he said. “I think it started with canaries that we used to see if the mines were safe to go down. A lot of them died down there… but then a lot of us died down there as well, and while they lived… I was fascinated by their colours, how bright they were, how prettily they sang. Our world was dull and dark, I was born in the darkness, I lived in shadow, everything around us was rock and stone, but in that dull and darkness, those canaries shone, and amongst the sounds of picks and shovels and the grinding of engines, their song… it was the sound of angels. I very much wish that I could have understood what they were saying.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Fluttershy said. “If you understood, it might not seem so angelic.”

Adam chuckled. “No,” he agreed. “Perhaps not.” He fell silent for a moment. “And then, when I left the mines, I would look up at the sky and the birds that streaked across it: house sparrows and great fat pigeons that used to follow you around hoping that you would drop some food for them; magpies, parakeets that had escaped from their cages and houses and become wild… and free. They were the ones that I loved best of all. Because of the colours and-”

“Because they were free,” Fluttershy murmured.

“Indeed,” Adam said. “They could go wherever they wanted to, and no one could stop them.”

“When did you stop?” Fluttershy asked gently. “When did you stop loving the sight of birds?”

Adam raised one hand to his face, removing his mask. He half-turned towards her, presenting his profile to her, showing her that half his face had been ruined by a brand that had seared his skin and ruined his eye. A brand of the letters SDC, seared into his flesh.

Fluttershy gasped. Applejack’s eyes widened. Gilda looked as though she was biting back a curse.

“I stopped,” Adam said, “when the SDC reminded me that I was nothing like a bird, neither free, nor able to go where I willed, let alone do as I please.”

Fluttershy stared at his ruined face, his scar in the form of those unmistakable letters. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Who… who did that to you?”

Adam put his mask back on. “Her name was… I forget exactly what her name was. Fern, I think. Calli Fern. Something like that. But who she was is less important than what she was: an employee of the Schnee Dust Company. It was the company that branded me, not the woman who wielded the brand.”

“Why?” Fluttershy asked. “Why would they-?”

“Because with wealth comes power,” Adam said. “And the powerful can do as they please, and none may gainsay them. In this world, there is but one law: the strong do as they wish, and the weak suffer what they must.”

“But the strong don’t have to make the weak suffer,” Gilda spoke up. “They can choose to, but it’s just that: a choice.”

“Gilda says that you are an innocent,” Adam said. “I didn’t believe there was such a thing, but now… now I think you might be.”

“So were you,” Fluttershy said. She smiled. “I wish that Cinder hadn’t left my sketchbooks behind when she captured us; I think you might have enjoyed the drawings.”

“You… are a very unusual human,” Adam said.

“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy replied. “I just think you haven’t met the right sort of humans yet.”

“You give your race too much credit,” Adam muttered. Once more, he fell momentarily silent. “Gilda, give me Fluttershy’s scroll. I want to speak to Rainbow Dash.”

And I thought this couldn’t get any worse. “Adam.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Adam spat, filling the words of her name with loathing. “Is Blake with you?”

“Not right now,” Rainbow said. “She’s somewhere on the campus, probably in her dorm room.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Adam growled. “I know that you’re here in Mountain Glenn; not only were you expected, but you were seen. Next time you lie to me… you don’t deserve what I’m about to do for you. Fortunately, I’m not doing it for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Rainbow demanded.

Adam took a moment to reply. “You stole something from me,” he said.

“Blake doesn’t belong to you,” Rainbow replied. “Blake doesn’t belong to anybody.”

“Blake is mine, and you stole her from me!” Adam snarled. He took a deep breath. “And for that, I will kill you. You and Sunset Shimmer both, and as for Blake, I will…” Rainbow could hear him take another deep breath on the other end of the line. “But this isn’t about you or Sunset or Blake. This is about Fluttershy. I’m going to give her back to you.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. 'Give her back'? Could it really…? “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Adam asked. “As Gilda has kept trying to tell me, the girl is no part of this. Your other friend is a huntress, her plight is part of the fortunes of war, and we have treated her as well as any of our fighters who fall into your Atlesian hands. But Fluttershy… if this city is to become our battlefield, then there is no reason why she should be caught up in the struggle.”

Rainbow was stunned into silence. Shock had robbed her tongue of power of speech. What was she supposed to say to this? Adam was actually letting her go? They were really letting Fluttershy go?

“Fluttershy, Applejack, are you there?” she called into her scroll.

There was a wordless mumbling, followed by Fluttershy saying, “I’m here, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow closed her eyes. “Great to hear your voice, Fluttershy. I wish I could hear yours too, Applejack.” Her own voice shook. “How are you doing down there?”

“I’m not sure that I should leave Applejack behind,” Fluttershy murmured.

“Yes, yes, you absolutely should,” Rainbow insisted firmly. It was… kind of rough on Applejack, but as much as she might not want to credit him with a good point, Adam was right: Applejack was a huntress; this was the kind of thing that went with territory. None of this went with Fluttershy’s territory.

More to the point, Fluttershy clearly believed that Adam was on the level about letting her go. She hadn’t tried to warn Rainbow that it was a trap.

That didn’t mean that it wasn’t a trap, but it was something.

Applejack mumbled.

“Was that a yes?” Rainbow asked.

More mumbling, with an ascentive tone.

“I’m going to get you out of there, Applejack,” Rainbow promised. “Just hold tight for just a little longer.”

“Bold words,” Adam said. “I won’t let her go so easily.”

Rainbow might have made some crack about how she had kicked Adam’s ass every time they’d met, and the last time, he had literally run away rather than face her. But she didn’t want to annoy him right now, not when she was about to get Fluttershy back safe and sound. “So,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Come to the location that I send to you, alone and unarmed, and I will set Fluttershy free. Don’t worry about the grimm, the area that I’ve chosen is free of them.”

Rainbow had not, in fact, been worried about the grimm; they’d specifically chosen a landing site that was also free from grimm activity, which was more concentrated in other sectors of the city closer to the centre. Nevertheless, for other reasons, she frowned. “'Alone and unarmed'? How do I know that it’s not a trap?”

“You don’t,” Adam admitted. “But you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust an armed Atlesian soldier to take your friend and walk away.”

“You think that I’d start a fight with Fluttershy there?”

“You’re a traitor to your race and a dog of the Atlesian military,” Adam declared. “How am I to know what you’d do?”

“How do you know that I’ll come alone then?” Rainbow asked. “What if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll have to live with the fact that you, one of the Atlas elite, one of the chosen, had less honour than a terrorist,” Adam spat. “Also, I won’t be unarmed.”

“So what you’re saying is that I have to trust you, but you’re expecting me to betray you?”

“As I said, I’ve been taught the folly of trusting Atlesians. So, do we have a deal?”

Rainbow closed her eyes. She didn’t know Fluttershy’s parents as well as she knew Twilight’s folks, but she’d met them a few times, usually when they invited Rainbow for lunch. Mr. Breeze had worked on the heating grid until he took early retirement to concentrate on his geology hobby. He cultivated a resemblance to Jacques Schnee, to try to give himself an air of authority and dignity, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fact that he wore sweaters that were too big for him and, well, the fact that he was just as quiet and timid as Fluttershy, maybe even moreso. Mrs. Breeze was a gardener and a classy lady; she always had a string of pearls around her neck, kind of like Twi’s mom. They didn’t deserve to lose their daughter, their pride and joy, not when she hadn’t volunteered to get involved in any of this. Her brother, admittedly, was… not Rainbow’s favourite person in the whole of Remnant, but for all his faults, he loved his sister, and he didn’t deserve to lose her.

Fluttershy didn’t deserve to die. Fluttershy… Fluttershy was someone who deserved to survive.

So there was no question of Rainbow going down there. The only question was whether or not she was going to go down there alone or not.

She probably ought to bring her team and take Adam Taurus out of the equation for good.

But there was a chance that Fluttershy might get caught in the crossfire. And besides, Adam was right: if she did that, then she’d be the sneaky bastard, and he’d be the righteous and upstanding one.

There’s no way that’s going to happen.

Going there alone wasn’t smart, but it was the right thing to do, and that was more important. The Atlesian forces were not the smartest, they weren’t the most cunning, they didn’t win by brains or wisdom; they won by being brave and tough and reliable.

They fought for truth, justice, and the Atlesian way, and the Atlesian way didn’t include letting terrorists have the moral high ground.

Besides, like she’d said to Pyrrha once, she always had two weapons on the ends of her arms.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said firmly. “Yeah, we have a deal.”

Gilda hastened to get the restraints off Fluttershy. Her hands trembled. She fumbled and then cursed herself for fumbling. She couldn’t slip up; she had to get this done, and quickly too.

She felt as though she was in a dream, and if she didn’t get Fluttershy out and into Rainbow’s arms by the time she woke up, then… then she would wake up, and everything would be as it was before.

“Is something wrong, Gilda?” Adam asked, with a hint of mockery in his tone.

Gilda unfastened Fluttershy from her bonds. “Nothing wrong, boss,” she said, as she stood up. “For the first time in a while, I can say that nothing is wrong.”

If she’d been able to see Adam’s eyes – his eye; gods, Gilda had never guessed what was under his mask. You’d never guess to see him fight that he couldn’t see to his right – it would have been narrowed, she was sure. “Don’t push your luck, Gilda,” he informed her flatly.

Gilda didn’t reply for a moment. She was… Adam had given her a lot of things to think about. Starting with that eye. Gods, that eye. She had never guessed, although perhaps she should have. Contrary to what a lot of humans believed, the White Fang - at least the ones who had been in for a while; the new recruits seemed a lot more fond of walking around with their masks on all the time, although Gilda suspected they were taking their cue from Adam in that regard – didn’t spend a lot of time with their masks on. Gilda basically never wore hers; she could barely see a thing out of those eye slits, and it gave her a skin rash every damn time. Strongheart didn’t put hers on too often either. Most wore it more often than that, but basically only for raids, and even then, sometimes not, like if it was dark or they were hitting an unmanned installation. But Adam… Adam wore his like it was fused to his face. Pretty much the only person who had seen what he looked like without the mask was Blake, at least in the Vale Chapter.

Until now. Now, Gilda had seen, and now, Gilda saw why he didn’t show it to anyone else. Yes, it wasn’t his fault, yes, it was a sign of what they were fighting for, but… you couldn’t just take pride in your scars just because you ought to be able to. Just because they didn’t make you weak didn’t mean that you didn’t feel weak or fear that others would think you weak.

The scar on his face was a side of Adam she had never seen before.

So, for that matter, was letting Fluttershy go.

It was a mercy that she wouldn’t have expected him to show, even before Cinder came into their world. To be honest, she doubted that even Blake could have moved him in this way, but somehow, Fluttershy had… Gilda wasn’t sure what Fluttershy had done. She would have said ‘charmed him,’ but that… that sounded too close to what Cinder had done to him, was doing to him; Fluttershy hadn’t manipulated him; she had just… beaten him. Gotten what she wanted.

It was amazing, Gilda thought, what a little kindness could do.

It was almost enough to make her wish that Fluttershy could stick around to keep doing whatever it was that she had done, because Gilda found that she liked this new Adam, who talked wistfully of his youth and how he had watched the flight of birds, better than the Adam whose leadership they had enjoyed lately, the one who had so lost hope of victory that he was willing to throw away lives by the score in the hope of a glorious defeat, the one who is in thrall to Cinder Fall, the one who didn’t listen to her, didn’t listen to anyone.

This Adam… this Adam was more like the one that she had followed into battle, the one that she could continue to follow.

If only he would stay. Somehow, Gilda wasn’t sure he would.

Gilda grinned. “You know me, boss, I’m old school White Fang. I’m not used to having nothing but my luck to push.”

Adam snorted. “Don’t mistake my intent; this is not your victory.”

“It’s not my loss either.”

“What are you talking about?” Fluttershy asked.

“Gilda,” Adam declared, “is hoping to use this as a wedge, to turn me against Cinder and her plans.”

“She doesn’t seem very kind,” Fluttershy murmured.

“That’s 'cause she’s not,” Gilda muttered.

“But she is powerful,” Adam said. “More powerful than you can understand. Let me give you some advice, Fluttershy: run away. When I let you go, run, run away from Vale, run all the way to Atlas, but don’t even stop there, run away until you find some dark secluded place beyond the kingdoms where no one will ever find you. Cinder… Cinder is not just a woman; Cinder is the harbinger.”

“'The harbinger'?” Fluttershy repeated. “The harbinger of what?”

“The bitter wind that has no beginning and no ending,” Adam replied. “Your friend Rainbow Dash can’t stop it. General Ironwood and all his armies can’t stop it. And any who try to stand in its path will be swept away. So run.”

Fluttershy bowed her head. “I can’t do that,” she murmured. “Even though I’m not… I can’t… I won’t give up all hope like that.”

“'Hope'?” Adam repeated. “What hope?”

“The hope… the hope that no matter how dark the night is, my friends will find a way to shine a light,” Fluttershy replied, looking up once more.

“A light,” Adam mused. “Yes, I suppose I hope for that as well. I hope to light the spark that will become a flame of revolution. And I hope the fire will spare you when the time comes. Now come; it’s time to go.”

Fluttershy glanced at Applejack.

Applejack nodded eagerly, murmuring something incomprehensible.

“All right,” she said, “let’s go.”

Rainbow wasn’t wearing the Wings of Harmony, but she did have her machine pistols worn at her belt, and so she took said belt off and draped it across the pilot’s seat with the guns still in their holsters.

She briefly reached out and removed Plain Awesome from its holster, and under the interior lights, she looked at the inscription on the frame.

‘With Gratitude, C, 21 April 2118’

Rainbow looked at it, reading it once, and then reading it over again. A slight smile played across her face for a moment as she put the gun back. As she did so, her eyes fell on the photos pinned to the dashboard.

She leaned forward and plucked the photograph of her friends from their time at combat school. She held it up, studying it more closely, taking in all of their faces, younger then, but still recognisable.

Her gaze lingered upon Fluttershy’s face, her fair, kind face.

Silently, Rainbow raised the photograph to her lips and kissed it.

Then she let it fall to the floor, floating lazily down like a dying leaf dropped from the tree; it was still falling as Rainbow opened the door and leapt down from the airship.

The house was dark. Penny might still be awake, and someone was on sentry above, but there was no one who would obviously notice Rainbow slipping away.

She looked up. The stars were beautiful tonight.

A sigh escaped from Rainbow’s lips as she started to walk towards the broken wall marking out the edge of the garden.

“Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow stopped. She glanced over her shoulder as Midnight emerged out of the house and into the garden.

“I didn’t see you there,” she said.

“It’s dark,” Midnight pointed out. “And you aren’t wearing your goggles.”

No, Rainbow wasn’t. Regardless of whether or not they counted as weapons, she didn’t want to give Adam an excuse to change his mind; just because he seemed accommodating at the moment didn’t mean that it was going to last.

“Midnight,” she said, “if I’m not back in two hours, you’re to notify Ciel that she has command of Team Rosepetal until relieved, that she is to post me missing in action and proceed with the mission as planned with no attempt at recovery.”

“Wherever you’re going,” Midnight said, sounding like Twilight and yet not, “you assume there’s a possibility you might not come back.”

“That’s right,” Rainbow admitted. “There’s a chance that I might not come back.”

“I’m not sure I can let you go, Rainbow Dash.”

“There’s also a chance that I might come back with Fluttershy safe and sound,” Rainbow added.

Green light flickered across Midnight’s face-plate. “Then good luck out there,” she said.

Rainbow snorted. “I knew that you had favourites,” she muttered. She raised her voice to say, “Don’t tell anyone that I’ve gone for two hours.”

“What if they ask?” asked Midnight.

“Tell them you’re not authorised to say,” Rainbow replied. “That’s an order, understood?”

Midnight’s head bobbed up and down, hissing mechanically as it did so.

“Great,” Rainbow said, and then paused, unsure of what exactly you were supposed to say to a computer system occupying the body of an android. Goodbye? Thanks? See you around?

“Would you like me to take a message for Twilight Sparkle?” Midnight suggested.

Rainbow blinked. “No,” she said. “If I come back, I come back, and if I don’t… General Ironwood has a video that I recorded; it… it says…” Rainbow thrust her hands into her pockets. “She’ll find out what it says,” she said, and then turned and walked away without another word.

Midnight did not call after her, did not try to stop her from leaving, did not, as far as Rainbow could tell, do anything, except perhaps watch Rainbow go as she disappeared into the darkness of the dead city, out of sight.

Rainbow walked through the streets, taking no care to hide herself, moving down the middle of the road in a way that she wouldn’t have done in Canterlot or Atlas – or anywhere that there might have been traffic, to be honest – but which had more in common with such safe places than it did with the way she would normally have moved in the field.

Rainbow walked, checking her scroll every now and then to make sure that she was going in the right direction – before they left, Twilight had uploaded all the schematics of the city to their devices, and done… something that would let them act as trackers, despite the spotty link to the CCT network. It was helping Rainbow find her way right now, and that was the important thing.

She walked to the location that Adam had given her, as casually as if she were on a stroll. She did not run. She didn’t use her semblance. She didn’t want to be perceived as aggressive, in case Adam thought she was being aggressive… and Fluttershy paid the price for what he thought was Rainbow’s treachery.

She couldn’t take the risk, just like she couldn’t take the risk of hiding a gun anywhere on her person.

And so she walked, and as she walked through the silent streets of the silent city, Rainbow began to sing softly to herself, her voice the only sound in all these dark and desolate structures all around.

“Awesome as I wanna be,

First you see me, riding on a sonic boom,

Got my guitar, shredding up the latest tune,

There is nothing you can do to beat me,

I’m so good that you can’t defeat me.”

Rainbow laughed at that, half wistful and half bitter, before she went on.

“Yeah, I’m awesome, take caution,

Watch out for me, I’m awesome as I wanna be,

Yeah, I’m awesome, take caution,

Watch out for me, I’m-”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Adam’s voice cut through the darkness. “I didn’t really think you’d come alone.”

Rainbow Dash stopped. She couldn’t see Adam. She couldn’t see Fluttershy either. It was too dark, and as a pony faunus, she didn’t have the night vision that Blake was blessed with.

The most she could make out were shapes in the darkness, vague forms moving before her, patches of darkness deeper than the rest, shadows in the moonlight.

“If you didn’t think that I’d show up, why did you ask me here?” she asked the dark.

“Because your friend is an innocent in our quarrel who deserves to escape it intact,” Adam allowed. “That doesn’t mean I expected an Atlesian soldier to keep her word.”

“You haven’t met the right Atlesian soldiers,” Rainbow muttered. Or perhaps you didn’t give them a chance to keep their word before you killed them. “Fluttershy? Are you there?”

“Yes!” Fluttershy cried. “Yes, I’m here, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief, mixed with a touch of laughter in her voice. A smile spread across her face. “So, how are we going to do this?”

A light illuminated the darkness, the red glow of a fire dust crystal held in Gilda’s hand, and by the red light, Rainbow could see Adam and Gilda – and Fluttershy, held lightly in Gilda’s arms.

“Hey there, Dashie,” Gilda said, a grin on her face.

Rainbow folded her arms. “Nice to see you again, G.”

“Don’t give me that ‘nice to see you again, G.’ I know that you never told your friends about me!” Gilda snapped. “What, were you ashamed of me or something?”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. Her face fell. “Yeah,” she confessed. “Yeah, I was. I didn’t… I didn’t want people to think about me as… I was ashamed of Low Town, my parents, all of it. I didn’t want people to think of me that way.”

Gilda snorted. “Stuck up, jerk.”

“Hey, the last time we met…” Rainbow paused. “The last time we met, you tried to kill me, and the time before that, you didn’t exactly want to be friends either!”

“You stormed out, not me!” Gilda replied.

“Because of what you said!”

Adam growled wordlessly.

“Right, sorry, boss,” Gilda murmured. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry about what I said. I guess I was kind of a jerk too.”

“I guess you’re making up for it now,” Rainbow replied.

Fluttershy sighed. “Can’t you just admit that you’re still friends? Isn’t it exhausting to pretend?”

“We are still on opposite sides of this war,” Adam declared. “We are still divided upon the only question that matters: are we free, or are we slaves? Rainbow Dash is still a servant of the great oppressor, someone who has taken up arms to keep our race in bondage.”

He grabbed the fire dust crystal and threw it so that it landed in the road between the two of them.

“And I will kill you for what you have done to Blake,” he vowed. “She is mine, and I will not forgive you for laying hands on her. But that will come in the morning. Tonight, take Fluttershy and keep her safe.” To Fluttershy, he added, “Go to her.”

Gilda released her, and Fluttershy ran. She ran with that ridiculous skirt – with the best will in the world, there was a reason why Rainbow hadn’t let Rarity make her an outfit; she was better off sticking to high fashion – rustling and billowing around her as she ran, her boots tapping on the road as she ran straight into Rainbow’s arms, which closed protectively around her.

Fluttershy’s whole body trembled. “Rainbow Dash,” she murmured.

Rainbow held her close, leaning down so that their cheeks were pressed against each other. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.” She looked at Adam and Gilda, still illuminated by the fire dust crystal. “Thank you,” she said.

“This isn’t for you,” Adam told her.

“Thanks anyway,” Rainbow replied.

Adam grunted, and began to turn away.

Before he could, a green light appeared overhead, like a flare but longer lasting, lighting up the entire street, overpowering the modest glow of the fire dust crystal, illuminating everything with a sickly green glow.

Adam’s mouth opened and began to form a question, but before he could make so much as a sound, he was struck in the chest by a burst of green energy that flew from behind Rainbow Dash to knock him off his feet and to the ground.

“What the-?” Gilda’s swords leapt from their scabbards into her hands. “You tricked us!”

“No,” Sunset declared as she teleported in front of Rainbow and Fluttershy with an audible crack and a burst of green light. “But more fool her, and more fool you as well.”

Adam picked himself up off the ground. “Sunset Shimmer.”

“Adam Taurus,” Sunset growled, practically snarled. Her ears were pressed down into her fiery hair, her breathing was heavy, and her whole body seemed to tremble as she raised her arms up on either side of her. Spears of magic began to appear above her head. “Rainbow, I’d apologise for using you, but, well, I’m not sorry at all. Take Fluttershy and get out of here.”

“No!” Fluttershy cried. “Sunset, you can’t-!”

“Adam Taurus is an enemy of Team Sapphire!” Sunset declared. “And I mean to see if his blood is red like roses!”

The Moral High Ground (New)

The Moral High Ground

“Sunset!” Rainbow snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What you should have done when you found that Adam was going to be here,” Sunset growled. Alone, or nearly alone. Vulnerable.

She might never get a chance like this again: to take him on, on ground of her own choosing, away from Ruby, away from Blake, somewhere he couldn’t hurt the ones she cared about. Somewhere she could kill him and exorcise the menace of the red sword from her dreams once and for all.

“I had this handled!” Rainbow yelled. “I got Fluttershy back! He let Fluttershy go, don’t you get that?!”

“I’ve gotten everything I need to,” Sunset muttered. And everything I need is right here.

Adam drew his sword, that damned red sword like a tongue dipped in blood. “Is this the honour of a huntress?”

“This is the honour of 'you will never lay a hand upon anyone I care about again,' and if that requires me to sully my ‘honour’ then so be it!” Sunset yelled. Let honour go hang. It might as well hang from a noose as hang in the closet like a garment to be worn at high class parties, which is all that it is good for else. What is honour, that we should prize it so above all other things, above life and health and happiness? Can honour stitch a wound, can honour fend off a determined foe, can honour rebuff the fury of the grimm? No, no, and no again!

Honour did not save Ruby from Adam’s sword. Honour did not prevent him from stabbing me through the gut and through the armour too. Honour has not brought about Pyrrha’s many splendid victories, and it will not save her life if Cinder has her way.

Cinder will kill Pyrrha if she can, but no doubt it will comfort her mother to know that she died honourably. Adam will kill Rainbow Dash and Blake, but nevertheless, Rainbow would treat him with honour until the moment of her passing comes, because Pinkie’s tears will be dried so well with the handkerchief of Rainbow’s honour?!

The graves are full of honourable men; therefore, let me keep my friends amongst the living by discarding it like trash. If I must soil myself worse than a farmyard dog, then let me do so, so long as they live.

Her ace in the hole might feel a little differently, but she wouldn’t refuse to join the battle for mere honour’s sake, once it was begun.

“I will give you the honour of my weapons,” Sunset informed him. “That is as much as you deserve from me.”

“Everyone just calm down for a second!” Rainbow yelled. “Sunset, how did you-?”

“Find out?” Sunset asked. “Well-”

“Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset and Pyrrha were still at the window, looking out across the city of the dead, able to see anyone approaching the house from the front. They were just about to start training Sunset’s semblance – although they hadn’t actually gotten so far as for Pyrrha to explain how, precisely, she intended to do that – when they were interrupted by the voice of Midnight, that mingling of Twilight’s voice with a tone so mechanical it had to be done on purpose.

Sunset looked away from Pyrrha and towards the android – or the VI in an android’s body – standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Yes?”

Midnight stood in the doorway for a moment, silent save for the whirring sound as her head shifted a little to the left, and then a little to the right. “Rainbow Dash is gone,” she declared.

“'Gone'?” Pyrrha repeated. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“Rainbow Dash has left the area.”

“What?!” Sunset cried, louder than she maybe should have, but she was shocked beyond her own ability to keep it down. She took a step towards the android, her ears flattening atop her head. “Where? And why?”

“I do not know where, although I can track her scroll easily if you require,” Midnight said. “I believe she has gone to rescue Fluttershy.”

“Alone?” Pyrrha asked. “That’s-”

“Hazardous,” Midnight said softly. “She is not certain she will return.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. Her chest heaved up and down. “Explain.”

“Before she left, Rainbow told me that in two hours from her departure, if she remains absent, I am to notify Ciel Soleil that she is in command of Team Rosepetal, that Rainbow Dash is missing in action, and that no attempt is to be made to recover her. That was ten minutes ago.”

“Oh, gods,” Pyrrha murmured.

Alone? She went off alone? Of all the stupid, irresponsible- “You’re not supposed to notify Ciel for another hour and fifty minutes,” Sunset pointed out. “So why are you telling us now?”

“And why did you wait ten minutes?” Pyrrha demanded.

“I am telling you because I do not want Rainbow Dash to die,” Midnight said. “I waited because I did not want you to stop her before she had the chance to save Fluttershy.”

“Midnight,” Pyrrha hissed reproachfully. “Because of your delay, Rainbow could be in grave danger.”

“And if I had not delayed, Fluttershy would have remained in danger,” Midnight pointed out.

“Why us?” Sunset asked. “Why tell us and not Ciel?”

“Ciel Soleil would report Rainbow’s actions as a disciplinary infraction,” Midnight explained. “But you have a history of reckless behaviour, so my hope is that you will not judge Rainbow Dash for her actions or punish her for them.”

“Let’s just say that Midnight was worried about you,” Sunset said.

She took a step forwards. The powerful magelight that she had cast in the air above them shone as bright as day, albeit a rather green day, illuminating the bird faunus with the katanas – and Adam.

It was on Adam that Sunset’s eyes were fixed. Adam Taurus with his sword drawn, Adam Taurus who had given her a remembrance of his esteem the last time they met, Adam Taurus who had injured Ruby. Adam Taurus who had just declared his intent to take Blake back, to death or to horrors so great that she would beg for death.

That would not happen. He would not harm Blake, he would not harm Ruby, he would not harm any of them, not while Sunset had anything to say about it.

Sunset felt her scar, the scar that Adam had given her with his sword, twinge in pain. She felt the anxiety rise up within her throat like bile, leaving a sourness that no amount of swallowing could remove. She felt her breathing deepen.

Three times now, she had faced him: at the docks, outside the bookshop, and on the train. Three times, she had faced him, and three times, he had bested her.

She very much wanted to make this the last time that would pay for all before it. She wanted to bury him under the stones that she had ripped from the nearby buildings – the structures were beginning to rot; it was easy to tear the bricks and mortar apart in discrete chunks – she wanted to tear the road apart and drop him down into the undercity below from such a height that his aura would not protect him. She wanted to unload all the power in her command at him.

And she would do it too.

“Clear out of here, both of you,” she snapped at Rainbow and Fluttershy. “I’ve got a score to settle.”

“Sunset-” Fluttershy began.

“Go, Fluttershy,” Adam growled, twirling his sword in his hand. “Since Sunset has come all the way here to fight with me, I have no intention of sending her away unsatisfied.” He grinned. “Although whether or not I send you away alive is something else altogether!”

Sunset bared her teeth, her tale swishing from side. Her ears could not be pressed any further down against the top of her head. Arrogant little- “Okay then, here it comes!”

“Stop!” commanded Cinder, her voice cutting through the darkness, preceding her coming like a herald preceding the arrival of a queen. She swept into the light, and Sunset almost thought the green glow suited her, although she would have been hard put to explain why.

Cinder looked Sunset in the eye, a grin pricking at the corners of her mouth. “Sunset.”

Sunset took a deep breath. She had a strange and rather uncomfortable feeling that Cinder had just caught her being naughty. Moreover, she had caught Sunset showing a rather ugly side of herself, uglier than Sunset had shown at any point when they were at Beacon together. Yes, Sunset had done some immoral things there, but Cinder had encouraged half of those, so it didn’t really count, whereas this was Sunset showing a shadowy side of her completely unprompted. Plus, as stupid as it might sound, Sunset had managed to make her vengeance against Bon Bon and Cardin look kind of cool, but there wasn’t much that was cool about interrupting a prisoner release to try and murder somebody who terrified you.

It was kind of absurd to worry that the person who was serving the Queen of the Grimm had caught you crossing a line, but Sunset did worry nevertheless, even if she couldn’t have said why. She attempted to adopt a more urbane tone in an effort to recover a little lost dignity. “Cinder.”

“I would ask just what is going on here,” Cinder said. She smiled. “But whatever it is, I am glad it gave us a chance to see one another again. Did you miss me?”

“I miss the days I thought you were on my side,” Sunset replied.

Cinder pouted. “Sunset, please, I’ve always been on your side. I’m more on your side than you are.”

“That’s… debatable, to say the least,” Sunset murmured. “But I’m… I’m very glad to see you too.”

That was a lie, and a rather barefaced one at that, but it was better than admitting that she wished Cinder hadn’t seen her like this. That, apart from anything else, would be an admission that she had done something wrong.

Cinder chuckled. The smile remained upon her face as she looked around the scene, taking in the tableaux of figures where they stood.

“I appear to have lost one of my prisoners,” she observed. “Adam, I would ask you what’s going on, but I already know that you took Fluttershy out of her confinement and brought her here. What I don’t know is why you would do such a thing without my authorisation?”

“Because it felt like the right thing to do,” Adam said tartly.

“'The right thing to do'?” Cinder repeated incredulously. “'The right thing to do'? And since when has Adam Taurus cared about doing the right thing in regards to a human?”

“You would have me do the right thing by you, would you not?” Adam demanded. “I will cut down any enemies who stand in our way, but that girl? She is not my enemy.”

“Are not all humans your enemies?”

“Are you my enemy?” Adam asked. “No. Then I decide who is my enemy and who is not. Not you, not the High Leader, none but myself! My will is yet in my own keeping.”

“Does not my aid-?”

“Does this girl really pose such a threat to our plans?” Adam snapped. “Is she so important? If not, then this is nothing but petulant whining and does not become you.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Sunset thought that she would attack him. However, she merely sighed. “We will discuss this further another time, a time when we were not entertaining company,” she muttered. The smile returned to her face, not quite reaching towards her eyes, as she faced Sunset once again. “Dare I assume what happened next: Adam summoned Rainbow Dash to collect her friend, you found out about it somehow, and decided that you would break the truce in an attempt to take your revenge?”

“Technically, there was never an official truce to break,” Sunset replied defensively. “But… yes, that’s about the size of it.”

Cinder’s smile widened. “Ah, Sunset, Sunset, Sunset. I would ask what I’m going to do with you, but the larger question, of course, is… what are we going to do now?”

“I hope it goes without saying that we’re not going to give Fluttershy back,” Sunset said.

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to,” Cinder said. “But equally, as much as I sympathise with your desire to kill Adam at the moment, I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I don’t want to fight you, Sunset. The time is not yet come for us. But if you insist upon pursuing this vendetta here tonight, then it will be me you deal with, not Adam alone.”

Sunset licked her lips. This… well, this rather changed things, didn’t it? Regardless of whether or not she wanted to fight Cinder – which she didn’t, particularly – facing her and Adam was obviously quite a different proposition than facing Adam alone.

“So… what then?” she asked. “You say that you don’t want to fight me, so what do you propose instead?”

“That we treat this as it was intended,” Cinder declared, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “As a prisoner exchange… except for the obvious lack of any exchange involved. I hope you can appreciate the irony that I am releasing one of my prisoners and allowing you to depart unmolested, even though you have broken a truce, while you have both broken the truce and offered me nothing in exchange for my generosity… and yet somehow, I am the villain of this tale?”

“You brought us here with a knife to Fluttershy’s throat,” Rainbow growled.

“Do you hear a gnat buzzing, Sunset?” Cinder asked. “I thought I heard something, but I might have been mistaken.”

Sunset snorted. She released the magic that she had been holding ready all this time, letting the green spears dissipate into the empty air. She held out her hands on either side of her and bowed to Cinder as she had bowed to Lady Nikos in Mistral. “I thank you, humbly, for your generosity,” she said. “Truly, a commoner may be as honourable as a lord.” And more than some, considering your stepsister. “And a faunus may be as honourable as either of them,” she added, and as she spoke, she hurled Soteria across the green-lit space that separated them, the black sword landing perfectly – a touch of telekinesis helped – at Cinder’s feet.

She had behaved badly tonight, and Cinder had caught her in her misbehaviour, but hopefully, she could redeem herself in Cinder’s eyes with a display of nobility now.

Cinder looked down at the venerable blade, at the sword of honour, at the sword that her stepsister Phoebe would have killed to possess. Her amber eyes widened, and Sunset fancied that she saw the flash of desire there. She looked again at Sunset. “What is this?”

“A ransom,” Sunset said.

“I didn’t ask for one,” Cinder pointed out.

“And yet, I offer it to you nonetheless,” Sunset replied.

“You offer me Soteria for one Atlesian girl?” Cinder asked. “The sword of Achates Kommenos, the sword that was carried for the Emperor, the sword that was wielded in combat with the Last King, and you offer it to me to buy the life of… of her?” She gestured at Fluttershy. “What is she to you?”

“Worth saving,” Sunset said. “Like you.”

Cinder scoffed. “I never took you for a sentimental fool, Sunset.”

“In that, it seems, we are alike,” Sunset suggested.

Cinder shook her head. “Keep your sword,” she said. “You will have need of it in the battles to come.” She smiled. “For you will be my enemy in the morning.”

“You are still my enemy tonight,” Sunset said. “But even enemies can show respect for one another.”

“Indeed,” Cinder acknowledged. “Some by giving and others by refusing gifts; keep your sword. I insist upon it. I know you would not want to insult me by pressing remuneration into my hands against my will.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “I am fond of that sword.”

“And so you should be; it is a fine sword,” Cinder said, kicking it a few feet in Sunset’s direction. “And it… suits you, I must say.”

“Black would go well with your aesthetic.”

“Perhaps,” Cinder allowed. “But there are… disadvantages to a metal blade. Someone who didn’t know you like I do might even suspect you were trying to set me up to fail with such a gift. But I know you’d never do that to me, and so,” Cinder bowed to Sunset in turn, “I thank you but decline your generous offer, and now, as glad as I am to see you once more, I fear that we must bid you goodnight, and good fortune… you’ll need it, in this place.”

Sunset snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Cinder shrugged, but the smile on her face remained as she straightened her back and gestured for Adam and the other faunus to move off. Swiftly, they did so, sloughing off into the dark until only Cinder remained within the light.

She stayed a moment longer, looking at Sunset, before she too turned away. She stopped, looking over her shoulder. “Oh, and by the way, Sunset,” she added, “tell Pyrrha to stop skulking about in the shadows like that; it is unworthy of her royal race.” She smirked and looked unutterably smug as she disappeared into the night.

How did she spot her? It shouldn’t have been possible for a human to see that well in the dark, and it wasn’t as though Adam had told her. Maybe the winged faunus had a telepathy semblance. “Show off,” Sunset muttered as she summoned Soteria back into her hand and sheathed it across her back.

“Pyrrha?” Rainbow asked. “Pyrrha’s here?”

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said softly as she stepped into the light which gleamed upon her circlet and her armour.

“Okay,” Sunset said. “I’m going after her, I’ll be back as quick as I can, but if I’m not back by morning, you’re in charge. But then, you’ve read my letter, so you already knew that. And hey, Blake’s already here, so that takes care of that too.”

“In charge of what?” Pyrrha demanded.

“The team,” Sunset said, as though that should have been obvious. It really should have been obvious, in her opinion. “And the mission, don’t let Ciel-”

“'The mission'?” Pyrrha repeated incredulously. “You think the mission can continue with both team leaders missing, or worse? Professor Goodwitch will order us straight back to Beacon, and rightly so.”

“You can’t be suggesting that we just leave Rainbow Dash out there on her own?” Sunset said. “I mean, she’s got her faults, but she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Of course not,” Pyrrha said, and now she sounded as though Sunset was the one who was being myopic. “I’m coming with you, of course.”

“'Of course'?” Sunset snapped. “There’s no ‘of course’ about it; we can’t both sneak out!”

“Why in Remnant not?”

“Because it’s probably dangerous!”

“And I am a huntress,” Pyrrha reminded her. “And your friend.”

“I’m your friend too, and as your friend, I would not see you perish in this dismal place.”

“Then you will have to protect me,” Pyrrha said. “And in so doing, ensure your own survival also.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you think that’s very clever, don’t you?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Pyrrha’s mouth. “No more than usual.”

“It turns out that Pyrrha can be very stubborn when she wants to be,” Sunset said. She glanced towards the aforementioned Pyrrha. “I hope you don’t mind about the sword-”

Pyrrha held up one hand to forestall any further explanation. “A life saved for the cost of a sword? It would have been cheap at the price.” She walked the rest of the way towards them. “Good evening, Fluttershy. I suppose it’s really a little late to be evening, but saying 'goodnight' as a greeting doesn’t really feel right, does it?”

Fluttershy sniffed. “Hello, Pyrrha,” she murmured. She took a deep breath. “Sunset, how could you? Adam is-”

“I know very well what Adam Taurus is,” Sunset said, cutting her off. “I know what he is better than you, I dare say. I don’t know why he let you go, and I will go so far as to confess that I didn’t think he had it in him, but the fact that he managed to muster up some humanity under your influence doesn’t change the fact that he has almost killed Ruby, Twilight, and myself, that he made Blake’s life a living hell and is fixated on her still and anyone connected with her; it does not change the fact that he is dangerous! Next time, there might be no ‘almost’ about it. Next time, he might kill Ruby; next time, he might kill Pyrrha; next time, he might kill Rainbow Dash, as he desires to do! I saw a chance to make sure that didn’t happen, and I took it. And I’d do it again! You can think whatever you like of me for that; I don’t care. I’m not here to be popular.”

“And so you would have killed him?” Fluttershy demanded. “Without cause?”

“I have cause,” Sunset insisted. “He deserves to die.”

“Will you give death to everyone who deserves it?” Fluttershy asked. “And life to all those who deserve that?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I have my flaws – I have never claimed otherwise – that you regard this beast so highly… speaks well of your virtues I suppose. But though you blow for a thousand years, you will not put Adam Taurus near my conscience.” Her tail twitched. “Pyrrha, would you mind escorting Fluttershy back to base? Rainbow and I need to have a little talk first.”

“I’ve got a couple of things to say to you as well,” Rainbow muttered.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, but seemed eventually to decide it would be best to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything Rainbow Dash had said.When she spoke, it was in a kindly tone: “Of course. Fluttershy, would you like to come with me?”

Fluttershy nodded and gradually released Rainbow Dash from her embrace – and gradually, Rainbow released her too, which might even have been a longer and more drawn-out process, as though she were afraid that Fluttershy would disappear, turn into dust, or be revealed to have never existed at all the moment that Rainbow Dash let her go.

Sunset supposed that she could understand that. In Rainbow’s place, she might have felt the same way.

Pyrrha drew Miló – they hadn’t had any trouble with the grimm going in, but that was no guarantee that they would have none coming out – and held it in sword mode in one hand while she placed her free arm around Fluttershy’s shoulder and held her close as they made their way back towards the house they had made their camp.

Sunset watched them go for but a moment, before she faced squarely up to Rainbow Dash.

“Now,” she said, “do you want to explain what you think you were doing?”

“What I was doing?” squawked Rainbow Dash. “What I was doing? What do you think you were doing?”

“What you should have done, taking out the trash!” Sunset snapped. “I mean… you came here alone? Unarmed? Are you kidding me right now?”

“He said that he was going to let her go,” Rainbow said. “And he did. Don’t talk to me like I walked into some trap and you had to save my butt.”

“No, I just had to remember that this is our enemy we’re talking about!” Sunset hissed. “Adam Taurus called you up, told you to meet him alone and unarmed, and you just did it?”

“Of course not,” Rainbow replied. “Fluttershy told me that it was legit.”

“Oh, Fluttershy told you,” Sunset said, rolling her eyes. “Fluttershy told you. Fluttershy, whom they were holding prisoner, told you, so that’s alright then.”

“Fluttershy wouldn’t lie; if it was a trap, she would have told me so,” Rainbow said. “She wouldn’t put me in danger to save herself.”

“And you didn’t consider that this might be a good chance to take him out?” Sunset demanded.

“Like you, you mean? No, I didn’t think that the moment when he’d decided to do the right thing and release a hostage was the perfect time to try and double-cross and kill him,” Rainbow snarled. “My priority was to get Fluttershy out of this situation safely, and I ought to kick your ass for-”

“Don’t talk to me like I put Fluttershy in danger. I waited until she was in your arms before I made a move,” Sunset spat. “I didn’t force you to stick around; you could have run and left me to it the moment you got Fluttershy like I told you to!”

“He made me a deal, and I took it,” Rainbow declared. “We had an agreement-”

“There are no agreements between monsters and men,” Sunset snarled. “This is Adam Taurus we’re talking about!”

“So why don’t we talk about Cinder Fall instead?!” Rainbow yelled. “Or don’t you want to talk about her because then you’d have to point that mirror back at yourself?! Adam isn’t the only one who tried to kill Twilight; Cinder did that too, but I notice that didn’t stop you from… whatever that was! Yes Cinder, no Cinder, take my sword, why don’t you, Cinder. Yes, I was willing to let Adam walk away, but at least I was going to do it because it was the right thing to do, not because…” She trailed off.

Sunset glared at her. “Say it,” she demanded.

“Not because I’m too close to see him clearly for what he is,” Rainbow muttered.

Sunset snorted. “I see enough,” she muttered. “Cinder isn’t Adam. Cinder… Cinder is capable of honour-”

“So is Adam Taurus, apparently,” Rainbow said.

“Cinder has cause for what she has done.”

“So does Adam; you saw that scar on his face.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him; I’m showing that there’s nothing special about Cinder except that you want there to be,” Rainbow insisted.

“I will not let you turn this around on me!” Sunset snapped. “I am not the one who went off by myself, unarmed, into what, if it had been a trap, would have been an incredibly obvious trap, telling only a robot where I was going-”

“No, you just followed me.”

“I wasn’t alone; I had Pyrrha!”

“We both know that if Adam had called you offering to let Ruby go, or Pyrrha, then you would have done exactly the same thing that I did!”

“Yes!” Sunset yelled. “Yes, I probably would, and that… that is the most infuriating thing about you. You’re just the same kind of idiot that I am, but you act like you’re better than me! I have flaws, Celestia knows, but I own them. I care about my team more than I care about other people. There. I said it. I care about my friends more than I care about those who are not my friends. I care about Pyrrha more than I care about you; I care about you more than I care about Weiss; I care about Weiss more than I care about some random person plucked off the street. It’s not pretty, and I’m pretty sure that Pyrrha would judge me if she heard me say it out loud, but you get it, don’t you? You know what I’m talking about because you’re the same as I am: team first, friends first, family first; the difference is that I can admit it to myself, but you, you drape yourself in the flag of Atlas and act like you’re perfect. Well, you’re not! You’re an arrogant idiot, just like me!” She paused, running one hand through her fiery hair. “You strut around, the great Rainbow Dash, acting like you’re something else, looking down on me whenever I step a toe out of line, judging me, threatening me, holding your nose around me like the toilet doesn’t smell after you’ve used it.” She put her hands on her hips, as she looked up at the stars and the broken moon. “You are the worst team leader I know, do you realise that?

“You want to know why, I’ll tell you why: because you’re lazy. You’re lazy and incurious, and you rest on your laurels, and you get away with all of it because your rank and closeness to General Ironwood accord you deference from a team many of whom are naturally inclined to give you a free ride anyhow! I work my ears and tail off to be worthy of Team Sapphire. I am not the warrior that Pyrrha is with the sword or the gun, I never will be; I don’t have Ruby’s heart, and I never will. But I work hard, not just in combat class but in every class, and I could say the same about Weiss, or even about Yang. But not you! You coast by on the things that you’re good at, and you let the things you’re bad at slide as though they don’t matter, and you don’t even realise that that isn’t the point. The point is not that plant science might save your life one day; as far as I know, it never will, and it really is a pointless subject; the point is to show that you’re willing to put the effort in regardless.”

Sunset took a deep breath.

“I am not the fighter that you are either. Without my magic, you would kick my ass, I admit that. I will never be the fighter that you are, but you will never be fit for command, not while you take your skills for granted and indulge your weaknesses. You want to lead Atlas someday? Then shape up, because right now, you…”

Sunset sighed and ran her hands through her fiery hair.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” she said. “I should have curbed your tendencies, because I know exactly where they lead. Believe me, General Ironwood’s tolerance of your… attitude will not last forever. He might not realise it yet, but on some level, I promise, he is aware of everything that I have just described to you. But you’re only a first year, and you have so much promise, and you still have time. Well, let me tell you something: eventually, there will come a time when you do not have time, when promise isn’t enough to make up for everything, and when that day comes, General Ironwood is going to choose to devote his attention to someone who deserves it, someone who is willing to do the work, to learn the lessons, to constantly improve themselves, someone-”

“Like Blake?”

“Yes, like Blake, but don’t change the subject and don’t use Blake as an excuse!” Sunset cried. “You need to fix this, not just for your ambitions but for your team, for Ciel, for Penny. You and I… we’ve been given the keys to the kingdom, you do realise that, right? We have been blessed, you and I, in the teams we lead. General Ironwood chose you to lead his best, and while initiation seems random, given that Professor Ozpin picked us to be his sword against Salem, I don’t think it’s too arrogant to say that he chose me to do the same. We’re the chosen ones, Dash, you and me, but we have to earn that choice, every day, in every way.”

Rainbow Dash looked away, a guilty look upon her face, like she’d been caught with one hand in the cookie jar. “You… you do realise that that has nothing to do with anything that happened tonight, right?”

“I know, but I’ve wanted to say it for a really long time,” Sunset replied. “So I suppose I ought to thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

They were both silent for a moment, standing in the darkness, staring at one another.

Then Sunset sniggered, and then the laughter spilled out of both of their mouths.

Rainbow shook her head. “I won’t apologise for what I did tonight,” she insisted. “I did what I had to do.”

“You can believe that, just don’t expect me to agree with you,” Sunset said. “And don’t expect me to apologise either.”

“I never expect you to apologise; you just get defensive about it.”

“Oh, like you never do that,” Sunset said.

“Only when I’m right.”

“Same here.”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “Did you mean all that stuff that you said?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Sunset muttered.

Rainbow looked down. “So what do I do about it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, there’s no hope for you; you’re not a natural genius like me,” Sunset said. “Look, you just need to actually read a few books; it’s not hard. If Yang Xiao Long can manage it, I’m sure that you can. Just… I tell you what, here’s a good starting exercise to expand your mind: what are we going to tell Professor Goodwitch?”

Scouts (New)

Scouts

Today, we of the Survey Corps held one final council.

Cinder sat in her billet, in the abandoned bar where the railwaymen might once have come to drink, sitting perched upon the bar proper with a book, bound in red leather, sat upon her knee.

She was rather pleased to have found this, or rather, to have had it found for her. She didn’t know how Emerald had come by it, but she found this account by one of the founders of Mountain Glenn, one Crozier Bishop of the Survey Corps, who had been part of the team that scouted the city’s location and who had stayed on as the city began to take shape.

Hopefully, he had also been present for its fall and had continued to record the fortunes of the colony until the last moment.

It was always a terrible shame to read a story without an end.

I argued, once again, for a location further north, in the valley formed by the spurs of the mountains. Space above ground will be tighter, yes, and we will be even more dependent upon the underground railroad for links to Vale, but the northern location would be far easier to defend, with only one way in that we must guard against the grimm.

Balin does not agree. He prefers the more southerly location, with more open space to expand the settlement, and with not such difficult ground lying between us and Vale. There is land here that can be farmed, land where a city could grow.

Land on which we may be attacked from any direction.

Balin is the leader of this expedition. His recommendation will go to the Council, and such is his reputation, there is little chance they will reject it.

I fear we are about to commit an act of grave hubris.

A smirk blossomed upon Cinder’s face. An act of grave hubris. Yes, building a city in a place with no natural defences and believing that it would merely require will and money to keep the monsters at bay, believing that nature’s wrath would kneel before your science and technology, that might be called an act of grave hubris.

So might sending nine children to this place, thinking that they are sufficient to deal with whatever they might find.

So might thinking me beaten, my shot wasted, my sting drawn.

Professor Ozpin, I think you have committed an act of grave hubris all of your own.

And as the hubris of Mountain Glenn had been punished by its utter ruin and destruction, so too would she punish the hubris of Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood and all of those who thought the sun had set on her.

Those who thought her beaten would learn the folly of their arrogance.

Including Sunset. She too was committing an act of grave hubris. They all were, as grave as those old men who had sent them on this quest: Pyrrha, hiding her pride behind a mask of sweetness and humility; Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle with their Atlesian fetishisation of technology; Blake, who presumed to judge the ethics of those like Cinder who suffered more than Blake could dream of.

And Sunset, who was so very proud. Her arrogance was endearing, especially the way that it was seasoned by a healthy dose of hidden insecurities, but she would be punished for it nevertheless. Here, in Mountain Glenn, she would reach the end of vanity.

Rainbow Dash could practically feel her hair turning grey beneath the stern glare of Professor Goodwitch.

“So,” Professor Goodwitch said, not taking her eyes away from Rainbow Dash for a second. Her hands were behind her back, holding her riding crop mostly but not completely out of sight, and she cast a shadow over Rainbow and across the room in the desolate house that they had made camp in. “You got a call from your friend after she was released by the White Fang?”

Rainbow considered herself to be an honest person, most of the time. But in this moment, she was very glad that she was not a terrible liar like Applejack. At least, she hoped that she wasn’t that bad of a liar. She hoped, very much, that she was keeping a straight face as she said, “That’s right, ma’am.”

They had decided not to tell the truth; partly because Professor Goodwitch might have the same reaction to what Rainbow had done as Sunset had, and partly because neither of them wanted to upset Blake by talking about Adam. It was best to let it lie and let Gilda take the credit.

Rainbow didn’t dare tear her eyes away from Professor Goodwitch to see how the rest of Teams RSPT and SAPR were taking this story – or the appearance of Fluttershy in the house when they woke up that night, for that matter. She’d gotten their surprise, but then Professor Goodwitch had started asking questions, and there hadn’t been much time to notice anything else.

Professor Goodwitch stared at her for a moment more, and then abruptly turned away, wheeling on her toes to face Fluttershy. Fluttershy looked as if she was trying to hide behind her long lilac hair; that might have been true; it was a habit of hers. In the light of day, with the sun coming up and the darkness being banished to the underground where they were soon to go, Rainbow could see just what a state Fluttershy was in. In the light of day, Rainbow could see that she was a bit of a mess, her hair frazzled and her clothes tattered and stained and fraying in places at the edges. There were dark lines under her green eyes, as if underlining their unusual shape.

Professor Goodwitch stared down at her for a moment, but when she spoke, it was in a softer tone than she had used on Rainbow Dash. “It’s Fluttershy, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” Fluttershy murmured, her voice trembling. “That’s right, ma’am.”

“It’s alright, Fluttershy,” Professor Goodwitch said gently. “You’re safe now, amongst friends. I simply want to understand how that happened.”

Fluttershy was silent for a moment. “One of the White Fang, her name is Gilda, she was… she was very nice to me. She tried to protect me from Cinder.”

Sounds like I owe you one, G.

“So Cinder is here,” Jaune muttered.

“Was that ever in doubt?” Sunset asked.

Jaune shrugged but said nothing.

Professor Goodwitch ignored them both. Her attention was all on Fluttershy now. “And it was this Gilda who let you go?”

Fluttershy nodded silently, her head bobbing up and down. It wasn’t even a lie, not really; Gilda had let Fluttershy go, having been holding her up until that moment.

No need to mention Adam, or a fight. With how things had gone down, Professor Goodwitch was certain to disapprove of at least one of Sunset and Rainbow, and possibly the pair of them, so better to prevent a smoother narrative of events without any sharp edges.

“And that’s when you called Miss Dash?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Again, Fluttershy nodded. “That’s right. Gilda… Gilda told me that she was here.”

“The enemy is aware of our presence,” Ciel muttered distastefully. “It appears our efforts at discretion were for nought.”

“If they know we’re here, then they must have seen our airship land,” Ruby said. “And if they saw that, then they must have some idea of our location, so why haven’t they attacked us?”

“Because they don’t just want us in Mountain Glenn; they want us somewhere specific,” Jaune guessed. “We haven’t walked all the way into the trap yet.”

Again, Professor Goodwitch ignored them, choosing to wheel once more back to Rainbow Dash. “And then you, Miss Dash, decided to go and assist your friend without informing any of your teammates?”

“She informed me, Professor,” Sunset said, taking a step forward.

“And you didn’t think to pass that information along to anyone else either, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch demanded in an acid tone.

Sunset thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. “There didn’t seem the need to wake anyone else, Professor. Pyrrha was on watch, I wasn’t leaving my post, and everyone needed their sleep while they could get it.”

“I don’t need sleep,” Penny pointed out.

Sunset cringed. “Sorry, Penny, I forgot.”

Penny looked at Rainbow. “Did you forget too, Rainbow Dash?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “But I thought that… it might be better if you stayed here, just in case.”

“Just in case something happened while both team leaders were absent and unaccounted for,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I’m rather disappointed in the both of you, particularly in you, Miss Shimmer. I thought I’d taught you better than this. This might have been a trap set by the White Fang.”

“If it was a trap, then surely it was best that not everyone walked into it,” Sunset protested.

“And who would have assisted you when the trap sprung shut, Miss Shimmer?”

Pyrrha, Rainbow thought, but she and Sunset had agreed to leave Pyrrha out of it. So she said, “We… we messed up, ma’am. I didn’t behave the way a team leader should. I’m sure the General will agree with you.”

“I’m not so certain,” Professor Goodwitch sniffed. “James seems inordinately fond of you. You are correct, however; your behaviour did not adhere to the high standards expected of the huntsman academies. I appreciate that Miss Shy is your friend, but youth can only excuse so many mistakes. You put yourselves in danger and risked leaving both your teams leaderless, and you can be sure that my report will reflect that.” She paused. “That being said, it is a good thing that Miss Shy is here; we have one less hostage to worry about. Although we do have to consider what we’re going to do with you, Miss Shy.”

“She can stay in the airship,” Sunset suggested. “Midnight can stay to guard her, and she can have the doors locked. If the White Fang haven’t attacked us here, it’s unlikely they’ll attack after we’re gone.”

“Not if they let Fluttershy go,” Jaune agreed. “There wouldn’t be much point in doing that only to take her prisoner again later.”

“What of the grimm?” Ciel asked. She was glaring at Rainbow Dash as though she was practicing her Professor Goodwitch imitation.

“Midnight can fly The Bus and operate the weapons if she has to,” Rainbow replied.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“I am honoured by your trust,” Midnight said.

“Trust and the fact that we can’t spare anyone else to keep watch over Fluttershy,” Rainbow said.

“I am honoured by your lack of options.”

Blake crossed the room to where Fluttershy stood and placed a hand upon her shoulder as she said, “It’s good to see you safe, Fluttershy. Do you remember me? I’m Blake; we met briefly at the end of the spring vacation, when you were about to set off with Applejack on your expedition.”

Fluttershy peered at her from between the curtains of her hair. “I… I remember,” she murmured. Her whole body shuddered. “I wish that I’d never wanted to-”

“It’s not your fault, Fluttershy,” Blake said, and it was amazing to Rainbow Dash how she was able to make her tone seem fierce and firm without altering the soothing gentleness of her voice. “What happened to you, what was done to you, it’s not your fault. You mustn’t let yourself think that it was your fault. It’s their fault, not yours. You’re not to blame. You can’t think that you’re to blame.” She took Fluttershy’s other shoulder with her free hand. “Do you mind…? It would be a big help if you were able to talk about it.”

Fluttershy hesitated. “There… there isn’t very much to tell. Like I said, Gilda took care of me.”

“But did you see anything?” Blake asked. “Did you see where they were keeping you?”

“In a room,” Fluttershy murmured. “It was dark, and I couldn’t see very well, so if there was anything special about it, I’m afraid I don’t remember. And before that, they blindfolded us. I did hear a lot of noise outside, though.”

“I see,” Blake whispered. She hesitated. “Fluttershy, you said that Cinder was there.”

“She’s the one who caught us,” Fluttershy said. “She said that she was a Haven student, that her team had gotten lost, so we offered her something to eat by our fire, and then…”

Sunset turned away, her ears drooping down into her hair. Well might she take that attitude, in Rainbow’s opinion.

“Did you see anyone else in particular, besides Cinder and Gilda?” Blake asked. “Was there a man?”

“You mean Adam?” Fluttershy asked.

Blake frowned. She bowed her head a little. “Yes,” she sighed. “I mean Adam. Thank you, Fluttershy. I’m sorry that you had to go through this.”

“It is unfortunate that you are not able to provide any fresh insights,” Ciel said. “But not your fault,” she added quickly. “However, it means that the parameters of our mission have barely changed, save that we must only rescue one person instead of two.”

“So what’s the plan?” Penny asked.

“Miss Dash, why don’t you escort Miss Shy to the airship?” Professor Goodwitch suggested. “Then we can see if you are ready to act like a team leader now.”

The fact that Rainbow deserved this – albeit perhaps not for the reasons Professor Goodwitch thought she deserved it – meant that Rainbow had no response but mute acceptance as she stepped towards Fluttershy, holding out one hand to her. “Fluttershy?”

Blake looked at Rainbow but didn’t smile as she released her grip on Fluttershy’s shoulders. Fluttershy’s arm extended out slowly, her hand tentatively reaching out before she placed her fingers inside the palm of Rainbow’s hand.

Rainbow’s fingers closed over hers, and she led Fluttershy out of the house, allowing the sunlight to fall unfiltered on their faces, and to the waiting Skyray.

“Kind of appropriate, don’t you think?” Rainbow said as the ramp extended downwards to allow Fluttershy to climb aboard. “That this should be the place to keep you safe?”

If they hadn’t got Fluttershy back, and they had found out some other way that the enemy already knew they were here, Rainbow might have suggested changing their plan to an aerial insertion – after all, what could be more unexpected than an aerial insertion underground? – but they had got Fluttershy back, and there was no way – no way in Remnant – that Rainbow was taking her back into the undercity, even in The Bus.

“I suppose so,” Fluttershy murmured, as the two of them began to walk up the ramp. “Rainbow Dash, about Adam-”

“Fluttershy,” Rainbow said, cutting her off gently, but cutting her off nevertheless. “I appreciate that he let you go, and I… I don’t know why he did that, but…”

“Have you seen his face?” Fluttershy asked.

Rainbow blinked. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it?”

Fluttershy nodded. “He showed me. He told me that a woman named… Cally Fern, I think, she did this to him.”

“You have a name?” Rainbow asked. “He gave you a name?”

“He wasn’t sure that was the right name,” Fluttershy clarified. “But it was something like that. Rainbow Dash, how could anyone do such a thing?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Because Atlas isn’t nearly as perfect as we like to act as though it is.” She sighed. “But, Fluttershy… Sunset… Sunset’s not wholly wrong. Whatever he’s gone through, he’s still our enemy, and I could put aside the fact that he wants to hurt me for helping Blake, but he also wants to hurt Blake and Sunset. I can’t just ignore that. If it comes down to it… he’s my enemy. And my job… sometimes involves dealing with enemies.” She was very glad in that moment that Fluttershy didn’t know that she had let Gilda go. Perhaps she ought to extend the same consideration to Adam, but… he didn’t terrify her the way that he did Sunset, but she’d still feel a lot better – for Blake’s sake, for everyone’s sake – if he was, at the very least, locked up in solitary next door to Chrysalis.

Fluttershy stood upon the access ramp, looking down at the metal beneath her feet. “I know,” she whispered. “I still don’t like it, but I understand.” She swallowed. “You will… Applejack, she’ll be okay, won’t she?”

“Yes!” Rainbow said firmly, approaching Fluttershy and taking her face in her hands, pressing her forehead against the other girl’s. “Yes,” she repeated, more quietly but every bit as intensely. “Applejack is going to be fine. You think they can break Applejack?” She laughed. “They haven’t got a chance. We’re going to get there as soon as we can – me and Blake and Sunset and everyone – and we’re going to get her back. We will be back in Sugarcube Corner one day, I promise.”

Fluttershy smiled, but it was a weak smile and trembled at the corners. “I really do wish I hadn’t come,” she whispered.

“Once we get Applejack back, you’ll change your mind,” Rainbow told her.

“Even when Applejack’s back,” Fluttershy said, and Rainbow was glad that she didn’t say ‘if,’ “then what was the point? Everything that I observed, it’s all gone.”

Rainbow grinned. “Then you’ll just have to do it all again, won’t you?” she asked. She paused. “Maybe wait a little bit before you do, though.”

Fluttershy let out a little giggle in spite of herself. Her eyes closed briefly as she said, “I think that’s probably a good idea.”

“Come on,” Rainbow said. “Let’s get you inside.”

Fluttershy followed Rainbow in and sat down on one of the benches in the central passenger compartment. Midnight followed them, her steps clanking up the ramp.

“Hello, Fluttershy,” she said. “I am Midnight, a Virtual Intelligence based on the neurological patterns of Twilight Sparkle.” Her visor flashed green for a moment; Rainbow didn’t know what was up with that. “I will protect you with my unnatural existence.”

“Um, it’s nice to meet you,” Fluttershy said. “And… thanks?”

“I want you to lock the doors,” Rainbow said. “So you won’t be able to use the pintle cannons.”

“If necessary, I will take off and use the oversized weapons with which you have oversaturated the nose,” Midnight declared.

“You do that,” Rainbow told her as she went into the cockpit and opened up the emergency cubbyhole behind the pilot’s seat. Inside was a medkit, a scroll, four MREs, and a pistol. It was the last which Rainbow plucked out of the hole and, once she returned to the main compartment, pressed into Fluttershy’s hands.

“You remember your lessons, right?” she asked.

“Rainbow Dash-”

“Safety off,” Rainbow said, pressing her thumb against the safety. “Arm straight, aim down the sights, pull the trigger.” She smiled. “Simple as that.”

Fluttershy looked up into Rainbow’s eyes. “I don’t want to kill anybody.”

“I don’t want you to either,” Rainbow agreed. “But I want you to die even less.” She straightened up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Good luck,” Fluttershy said, her voice rising at the end, tremulous with nerves.

“I don’t need it,” Rainbow said. “But thanks anyway. Midnight.”

“Good hunting, Rainbow Dash,” Midnight said.

Rainbow strode down the ramp. It ascended behind her, and as it ascended, the door to the Skyray slid closed. Rainbow turned, catching one last look of Fluttershy, hair dishevelled and eyes wide, before the metal door obscured her from view.

Rainbow turned away and rejoined the others in the house.

“Is everything okay?” Sunset asked. “Is she okay?”

“Of course not,” Blake murmured.

Sunset cringed. “Right, I just meant-”

“She’s not okay,” Rainbow said. “But she’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“We’ll get your other friend back,” Ruby assured her.

“But we need a plan first,” Jaune declared. “We need somewhere to get underground.”

“Although the enemy has been alerted to our presence,” Ciel said, “nevertheless, it would be best if we could gain the underground without drawing even more attention to ourselves.”

“Which means avoiding the grimm and any White Fang patrols,” Rainbow said. “Which is why we have Twilight backing us up.” She tapped her earpiece. “Twilight, are you reading me?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Yes. Yes, I’m right here, Rainbow Dash. I read you. How’s Fluttershy?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Rainbow said. “But she’ll be okay. She’s more shook up and worried about Applejack than anything else. She’s staying in The Bus, so you’ll be able to talk to her, so long as you don’t get distracted.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Twilight said, leaving it unclear whether she was going to talk to Fluttershy or not; Rainbow hoped that she did; it would be good for both of them to have something to calm them down.

“Where are the drones?” she asked, because everyone was watching her, and Ciel might start to get impatient if she and Twilight talked for too long.

“Entering the city airspace now,” Twilight said. “I’ve been seeing grimm below for a while, but none close to your location – which I’m en-route to as we speak.”

“Thanks, Twilight,” Rainbow said, and muted herself with another tap of her earpiece. “Twilight’s drones will be our eyes in the sky, but we should also have eyes on the ground. I’ll scout ahead and pick a clear route through the city to an unguarded entrance to the underground; Sunset, you’ll lead the main element; Blake, do you want to watch my back?”

Blake tilted her head to one side slightly, as if she was curious, but she said, “Of course.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you sure about this?”

Are you asking, or are you telling me I’m wrong? Rainbow thought she was right about this; she was pretty sure, but Sunset’s words – words which, if she were to be honest with herself, she couldn’t really deny for the simple reason that they were true – had her second guessing herself. No. No, she was right about this. Even if she had been avoiding all the stuff she wasn’t good at, this was actually one of the things that she was.

She was right about this. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”

Sunset held Rainbow’s gaze for a moment. “Okay.”

“We’ll mark the route with these paint bombs, to stop any confusion talking to one another,” Rainbow added, taking one of the bombs out of a pouch at her belt. Each one was about the size of an acorn, but was designed to have a wide spread across whatever surface it was. “Red is for danger; don’t go that way. White means follow. If nothing else works, you can follow a trail of white splashes.”

“We won’t be that far behind you,” Sunset said. “Ten minute head start?”

“Make it fifteen,” Rainbow replied.

“Fine,” Sunset agreed. She looked around the room. “Pyrrha, you’re up front, with Jaune behind. Ruby, you’re in the middle with me, then Ciel, then Penny you bring up the rear. Professor… as you like.”

“No, Miss Shimmer, as you like,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Sunset’s brow furrowed slightly. “In the centre, with me and Ruby.”

“Very well, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said, in a tone which left it unclear whether she approved or not.

“Don’t head down without us,” Sunset told Rainbow. “Find an entrance, wait for us to catch up.”

“That’s the plan,” Rainbow replied. To Blake, she asked, “Are you ready?”

Blake drew Gambol Shroud over her shoulder, the black blade transforming into pistol configuration before Rainbow’s eyes. “If you are.”

Rainbow nodded, pulling her goggles down over her magenta eyes. “Then let’s go.”

They plunged together into the empty streets of the dead city, where cars lay rusting and abandoned by the side of the road or sometimes in the very middle of the road, empty, turning to scrap metal, or else being slowly colonised by the weeds that were poking their way up through the old tarmac and climbing the metallic frames. Some cars had been moved, formed into barricades blocking off – or trying to block off – the streets of Mountain Glenn, along with buses either upright or overturned which had been turned so as to prevent their long faces to any attackers. Rainbow thought the upturned bus might have been a slightly better idea, if only because it meant the grimm couldn’t get in through the windows, but neither had actually worked, as shown by the bodies that lay behind those makeshift barricades.

Even more than abandoned cars, the city streets were full of bodies. They were skeletons now, bones picked clean of flesh by time and scavengers, but they remained, filling up Mountain Glenn with their ghosts. Skeletons with guns and blades and a few with what looked like huntsman weapons lined the barricades or the road nearby, lying where the grimm had taken them; bodies filled the roads in lines, pointing in this direction or that; Rainbow guessed that they had been trying to run, trying to escape, trying to get… where? The underground? The city limits? Both? It seemed from Ruby’s story – she probably should have looked this up herself – that almost everyone had fled into the underground when the levee broke, but maybe some of them had tried to get to Vale instead, though they would have done better to have tried to drive than run.

That was probably where those cars stuck in the road had come from. Rainbow hadn’t looked to see if they had… bodies inside.

She didn’t really want to know. She didn’t want to see the bodies lying where she could see them.

Rainbow wondered how fast this had all been. Had these people known that the city was going to fall before it did? Had it caught them by surprise? It sounded like the grimm had just kept on attacking and attacking until they broke through, but had the people of Mountain Glenn known that was happening? Places like Vale had early warning systems and alarms and all sorts of stuff, and Mountain Glenn probably had them too, but whether or not to use it – whether or not to tell people that the grimm were attacking – was at the discretion of the Council and the delegated authorities. Some places didn’t say anything until the grimm actually broke through, preferring to avoid panic drawing even more grimm to join the attack.

Rainbow could see the logic of that. It was the approach they tended to take in Atlas unless an attack was a very high threshold and they needed to get everybody into the shelters – or to prep for evac.

How had nobody seen this coming? Even if the authorities had decided to keep people in the dark about the fact that grimm were throwing themselves at the defences, how was it that nobody had worked out that at some point, the defences were going to collapse and it would be better to get everybody out while there was still time?

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said quickly. “Well, no. I mean, we’re in this place for a start. I was just thinking… do you think that the first that the folks living here knew about the grimm attacks was when the grimm got into the city and they all had to run for the underground?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Ruby might, but I don’t.”

Rainbow shook her head. “If they were going to spend lives trying to defend this place, they should have spent those lives to get everybody out.”

“It sounds like they were confident in their underground city,” Blake reminded her.

“Something would have got inside,” Rainbow said. “Even if they’d avoided what actually happened, the grimm up-top would have gotten down below.”

“So what’s the alternative?” Blake asked. “To not try?”

“The alternative is to get the people out,” Rainbow insisted. “You think Atlas has never tried to plant a new settlement like this before?”

“Has it?”

Rainbow nodded. “It was called Appleoosa. One of Applejack’s cousins was one of the first colonists… mind you, you could probably pick just about anything in Atlas, and one of Applejack’s cousins would be involved in it somehow.”

“Really?” Blake asked dryly.

“Really,” Rainbow insisted. “There’s so many of them, it’s ridiculous, and they’re all called Apple Pie! Or... something like that, I don’t know how Applejack tells them apart. Anyway, this place called Appleoosa, it was… huh, it was down in the south-west of Solitas, where it’s not so cold and you can have a go at growing food naturally. Like this place, they cleared out the grimm who were there already, and then started putting down roots and building up homes.”

“And then the grimm came back,” Blake guessed.

“Uh-huh,” Rainbow agreed. “And they kept on coming back. No matter how many the military killed, there were always more of them. They could replace themselves a lot faster than the soldiers defending the town. Until-”

“The defences collapsed,” Blake said.

“No,” Rainbow said firmly. “When they realised that the defences would collapse, the Council ordered an evacuation. They sent in the Sixth and Thirteenth Battalions to take over the defences, supported by a company of Specialists and the cruisers Archer, Swiftsure, and Indomitable. Their orders were to hold the line until the evacuation was complete.”

Blake waited for a moment. “And did they?”

“Yes,” Rainbow declared. “The infantry suffered ninety percent casualties, the Specialist company was wiped out, and all three cruisers were destroyed; but they held the line, and the evacuation was carried out successfully: no civilian casualties. That… that’s how… that’s what it means to…” She trailed off. “What am I doing, standing here talking about this stuff, huh? We should keep moving.”

The closest subway station to their landing ground was Angel Street – but because it was the closest, it was also the most obvious to anyone who had marked the area where their airship had gone down, and so, Rainbow and Blake steered clear of it. For pretty much the same reason, they also stayed away from the next two closest stations – Snow Hill and Heatherfield – because they, too, were pretty obvious and pretty obvious places for the enemy to lie in wait for them.

Instead, the two scouts weaved a way between those locations, not passing close enough by any of them to be observed by any defenders, leaving a trail of white paint to mark their passage for Sunset and the main group coming after them.

Rainbow had intended to head for a station called Cockfosters, which had to rank pretty high on a list of ‘what were you thinking when you came up with that name?’ names, but Twilight’s drones reported a large concentration of beowolves nearby, and since they weren’t here to tangle with the grimm, the two huntresses turned away – marking that route with red paint – and headed a little more to the north than they had planned.

It was the same story at Bank Station; the change in direction had gotten them a little away from Twilight’s drones, into a sector of the city that hadn’t been subject to aerial recon, and so, Rainbow saw the beowolves herself, fortunately before she rounded the corner and let them see her. They weren’t doing very much – they weren’t even on the move – they were just sort of standing there, or sitting there, growling to one another as they soaked up the sun. A couple of them prowled around on the edges of the pack, but none of them strayed very far. The alpha sat in the centre of its beowolves, scratching its claws idly upon the ground, making gouges in the tarmac.

Blake peered around the corner. “They don’t seem to know we’re here,” she observed.

“Good,” Rainbow replied, pulling a red paintball out of her pouch. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Blake frowned. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“Nothing, by the look of it,” Rainbow said.

“Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Rainbow hesitated. “We can talk about this when we’re a little further away from them, yeah?”

Blake hesitated. “Sure,” she agreed, and Rainbow marked the route as a no-go before they made their exit, unseen and unhindered, to find a safer route.

It was as they were scouting that safer route, with Twilight’s drones flying all over the city to give them advanced warning, that Rainbow said to Blake, “What do you mean, about it being odd?”

“I mean that grimm don’t usually sit around doing nothing,” Blake explained. “They’re not lazy; quite the opposite. Grimm are driven in ways that we can barely comprehend, and yet, that pack was just relaxing? Not even patrolling, just sitting there?”

“Come to think of it, Sunset and I didn’t come across a single grimm when we went to get Fluttershy. Neither sight nor sound.” That probably ought to have seemed stranger to them than it had, what with this being a hive of grimm; Rainbow had just had other things on her mind last night, so she hadn’t really thought about it. “What are you thinking?” Rainbow asked.

“I’m thinking that our enemy, our ultimate enemy, is not the White Fang or Cinder, but Salem, the mistress of the grimm,” Blake reminded her. “What if she can make them turn against their own nature? What if she’s making them sit idle, so that we can be-”

“Denied access to the underground,” Rainbow guessed.

“I’m worried that it might be worse than that,” Blake said. “What if we’re only being denied access to certain entrances to the underground, herded towards the entrance that Salem – or Cinder – wants us to use.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Makes sense,” she said. “We knew this was a trap walking into it.”

“Did we expect that it would be that much of one?” Blake asked.

“Maybe we should have,” Rainbow muttered. “But what choice have we got? It’s either go on or turn back, and we can’t turn back, not with Applejack still out there and not with so much we still don’t know.”

“So we just walk into the trap regardless.”

“Isn’t that what we planned to do?” asked Rainbow. “Sometimes, you just have to be tougher than the trap. Sometimes, that’s all that you can do.” She hesitated. “All the same, it was smart of you to pick up on that with the beowolves. Stuff like that is why…” She trailed off.

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake murmured.

Rainbow shook her head. “Let’s keep moving,” she said. “We still don’t have a way down yet.”

They led the way deeper into Mountain Glenn, out of the suburbs and into the city itself, where detached houses with their own gardens – or at least the remains of their own gardens, to go along with the remains of the empty, silent, decaying houses with the windows smashed in and the door torn off their hinges and the skeletal remains bleaching in the sun as they lay where they had fallen – made way for rising apartment blocks and shopping streets.

Not all of the apartment blocks were finished: some looked only half-built; others looked as if they had only just begun to rise, the mere skeletons of scaffolding like spears lancing up towards the sky. The rotting cars and buses were now joined by abandoned trucks, some toppled over to make barricades like the buses, and by leftover cranes and diggers from the construction sites, the yellow paint peeling off as the rust claimed them.

Some of the streets, they found blocked off by makeshift barricades, wood and metal and stone thrown together to block off the street completely against the advance of the grimm. Rainbow put her hands on her hips as she regarded it.

“I could fly over there,” she said, “and I’m guessing that you could make it over there too, but I’m not so sure about everyone else.”

“Mhmm,” Blake murmured. “Jaune might struggle, and Ciel.”

“So we’d better find a way around,” Rainbow said. “Hopefully, some of these stores have rear exits.”

At this point, you’re probably starting to think to yourself ‘isn’t this a little too easy? Aren’t these grimm being awfully passive? Is it possible that we’re being herded in a certain direction?’ Cinder thought.

Well, you are, obviously, but it would be best if you didn’t think too hard about that. Which is why I’ve placed something in your path to take your mind off it.

It was Blake who found the alternate route. Blake had a gift for this kind of thing, on top of the other gifts that she had; she was surefooted – doubly so, considering that she was wearing heels – and graceful, her steps, her every movement silent or nearly silent. And she had a nose for finding her way as well.

Is there anything you can’t do?

I sure hope not.

Twilight kept them informed of grimm concentrations to avoid, and when she didn’t spot anything via her drone, the two scouts spotted it and could avoid the grimm without fighting.

Until her voice rang in Rainbow’s ear. “Rainbow Dash, are you okay?”

Rainbow unmuted herself. “Yeah, Twilight, we’re fine.”

“Good,” Twilight said, her voice possessing an edge of impatient concentration but not sounding panicked in any way. “Because I’m under attack.”

“What?!” Rainbow yelled. “How did they find you? Can’t Tsunami-?”

“Wait, sorry, no, not me personally; it’s my drones that are under attack.”

Rainbow sucked in a deep breath. “Well, that’s a pretty big difference, don’t you think?” she snapped. “Don’t panic me like that again, Twi; this place has me enough on edge.”

“Sorry.”

“So, what’s happening with the drones?”

“Small nevermores,” Twilight said. “They’re too small to be a threat to you, but they’re enough in numbers to pull my drones apart.”

“Can’t you shoot back?”

“Am I allowed to shoot back? I thought you didn’t want-”

“Yes, you are allowed to shoot back if the alternative is that we have no recon,” Rainbow said firmly.

“Okay,” Twilight replied. “Engaging now. I may not be able to spot everything while I take care of this.”

“That’s okay,” Rainbow said. “Let us know when you’re back online; we’ll manage for now.” She muted her earpiece again. “Did you get that?” she asked Blake.

Blake nodded. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that the nevermores decided to attack now?”

“You think Cinder’s trying to blind us?”

“I think it’s a possibility,” Blake replied.

“But why now?” Rainbow asked.

Blake thought about it for a moment. “I… I’m not sure.”

“Me neither,” Rainbow said. “Maybe it isn’t a trap – not so much of a trap – as we thought it was; we just got lucky before, and now our luck’s run out?”

“Maybe,” Blake murmured.

“Anyway,” Rainbow said, “I told Twilight we’d carry on without her for now.”

And carry on they did, marking the way as they went, avoiding a couple of ursai who were too lazy to pursue them even if they did not notice the two huntresses, and making their way – without the benefit of Twilight’s drones, but without trouble either – to another barricade, set up at the end of another retail street, just beyond a couture boutique of the sort that Rarity hoped to own one day. Indeed, it was a testament to the fervent nature of Rarity’s dream that Rainbow knew the words ‘couture boutique’ purely from hearing her say them often enough.

The name was faded from above the store, and the windows were smashed in, with the remains of some kind of painted sign completely unreadable on the remaining shards of glass. The blue paint – the same shade as Rarity’s eyes – was peeling off the door.

The sunlight came in through the broken windows, illuminating the remnants of a smashed display, toppled mannequins and shredded dresses, but it couldn’t reach in very far; a lot of the store was shrouded in shadow and darkness.

Still, a big place like this was bound to have another way in and out.

“Through there?” Blake suggested, echoing Rainbow’s thoughts.

Rainbow nodded and led the way, pushing the paint-shedding door open – it opened without a sound, which was good, but at the same time, there was a part of Rainbow that would have hoped for a creaking hinge to disturb the silence – and entering the gloomy boutique.

There were no signs of any bodies here, just fallen mannequins that looked a bit like bodies at first glance, lying on the ground with their arms and legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles, until you realised that any real bodies wouldn’t be in nearly such good condition – as all the skeletons outside proved. It seemed like nobody had wanted to take refuge in a high-end clothing store, although that hadn’t stopped the grimm from giving it a bit of a trashing on principle.

Rarity would be having a fit if she could see the state of this right now, with the displays knocked over and the clothes torn off the rails and everything just lying strewn across the floor with no consideration.

“No, no, no, darling!” Rainbow could hear her voice inside her head. “This simply will not do! We must get everything properly reorganised before reopening. Now what I’ll do is-”

Rainbow found the commentary from the Rarity that existed in her mind comforting; listening with half an ear as she babbled away drove off some of the creepiness of this place, and in spite of the lack of bodies, it was a creepy place. In particular, Rainbow really hated the mannequins that were still standing up. It was like they were watching her and Blake, waiting for their moment. She had to keep looking at them to remind herself that they hadn’t moved while her back was turned.

Rainbow had put on her goggles to protect her eyes against the bright summer sunlight, but as that light was fading so quickly inside the store, she tapped one of the miniature buttons on the right hand side to activate nightvision – there was also an infrared mode, but grimm didn’t show up on it.

The darkness was revealed to her as she scanned the store, advancing cautiously, Unfailing Loyalty swaying from side to side as she glanced first left and then right. Blake had Gambol Shroud in pistol mode, and she occasionally turned to check behind them as she followed Rainbow through the store.

“Hello?”

Rainbow stopped, her ears pricking up. That was a voice. That was a child’s voice. But… that wasn’t possible. No child could have survived here in Mountain Glenn, and even if they had, they wouldn’t be a child any more, not after twenty years.

“Hello?” the voice cried out from the darkness again, unmistakably young, a little girl’s voice, younger than Scootaloo, maybe five or six?

Rainbow’s spine tingled. She couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. There was a lot of clutter near the back of the store, boxes and stuff all piled up. Places where someone could hide.

She kept Unfailing Loyalty raised and pressed against her shoulder, even as she glanced back towards Blake.

Blake’s golden eyes were wide; they gleamed in the darkness. Her mouth was open, but no words came out. Her feline ears were as straight and as pointed as daggers, reaching for the ceiling.

“Hello?” The voice was more insistent now, or seemed so.

“Is anyone there?” Another voice, a young boy’s voice, coming from… it sounded like they were coming from around the same place as the little girl.

Maybe… maybe someone did survive the fall of the city, and they’ve been squatting in the ruins ever since, and they had kids. Maybe there are more survivors here in Mountain Glenn than anyone thought.

“Hello?” she replied, calling back into the darkness. “Yes, yes, I’m here.”

“Hello?” the little girl called.

“Hi, yeah,” Rainbow said. She took a step forward. “I’m right here. My friend and I are huntresses. We’re here to… you don’t need to be scared; we’re not going to hurt you.”

Blake took a couple of silent steps across the floor of the boutique, moving closer to Rainbow Dash; Gambol Shroud was pointed at the ground as she turned side on to Rainbow. “Are you sure about this?” she hissed.

“We can’t just ignore them,” Rainbow whispered.

Slowly, two figures emerged from behind the boxes at the back of the store. They were both children, a young boy and girl at about the age Rainbow had thought, five or six. They were filthy, their faces pale and matted with dirt, their hair stringy and dry and looking like it might fall out if you pulled it. Their clothes were falling to pieces off their bodies. They walked forward calmly. There was something about their eyes… it was weird, but Rainbow couldn’t quite put her finger on why it was weird.

“Hello,” the little girl said.

Rainbow grinned as she knelt down, descending to a height closer to their own. “Hey,” she said. “Are you two hungry? I think I have a candy bar somewhere-” She released her shotgun with one hand and started to reach into her pocket.

“Is anyone there?” the little boy asked, although he was now standing only feet away from Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow frowned. “I’m right here, kid, and so is my friend. What are your names? I’m Rainbow Dash and this is my friend Blake. Are your parents anywhere around?”

“What’s going on?”

Rainbow jumped a little as what she had taken to be a mannequin spoke, revealing that it was not a mannequin at all but a woman, a woman who had been standing still in the shadows, waiting, because that wasn’t creepy at all.

Twenty years trying to survive in a place like this, I’d probably lose a few screws as well.

“Hello there, ma’am,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’m Rainbow Dash, this is Blake Belladonna; we’re huntresses from-”

“What’s going on?” she said, walking towards them.

“Well, if you’ll let me finish-”

“Is anyone there?” the little boy asked.

“Rainbow, get back!” Blake cried, as she raised Gambol Shroud and shot the boy clean between the eyes.

His head snapped backwards, but his body remained upright.

“Is anyone there?” he asked.

“What the-?”

“They’re chills!” Blake yelled.

Rainbow bit back a curse under her breath, her shoes squeaking on the floor as she scrambled backwards, away from the chills and their possessing grip.

“Hello,” the little girl said, walking forwards and holding out her hands towards Rainbow Dash.

Their eyes. They had dead eyes; they weren’t really looking at anyone or anything, that was what was wrong about them.

“What’s going on?” asked the woman as she bore down upon the pair of them.

Blake shot her three times, but she kept on coming, her lifeless body absorbing the rounds like a sandbag. Unfailing Loyalty barked twice, blasting the little girl and the boy backwards, but they just picked themselves up and kept on coming.

“I thought I heard something,” said a man, or what had once been a man, a possessed husk coming out of the dressing room. Rainbow turned and shot him too, but as she did so, she tripped over a mannequin and landed heavily on her backside.

She scrambled backwards, panic making her heart race and her breath come quick and fast as the chills advanced upon her. She kept firing her shotgun, but she might as well have been spitting on them for all the good it seemed to do.

“Hello.”

“Is anyone there?”

“What’s going on?”

“I thought I heard something.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Blake shoved a new magazine into Gambol Shroud, red fire dust rounds. Her face was grim, set with determination as she sprayed fire in all directions, the fire dust igniting all the clothes that lay in heaps and fragments on the floor, the fashionable attire that still hung from the racks or mouldered on the mannequins.

As a wall of fire rose between Rainbow and the chills, neither of the huntresses noticed that, for just a moment, Blake had two shadows.

As the fire began to spread, as the smoke rose, as the flames began to consume the bodies of the chills, Rainbow got to her feet. She ran back towards the door. Blake seemed frozen now, transfixed by the flames, unable to move, so Rainbow grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out, through the doorway and out into the street.

Rainbow let go of Blake as they emerged into the sunlight, the bright light of the sun overwhelming her goggles – still set to nightvision – and blinding her until she tore the goggles off her eyes and stood, blinking, until she could see again.

“That was close,” Rainbow said, as the fire inside began to devour the boutique. “Chills. Worst grimm ever, no doubt about it.” She took a deep breath. “We’ll have to backtrack; we can’t ask the others to come this way in case that fire spreads.”

Blake did not reply.

Rainbow frowned. “Blake? Are you okay?”

Blake looked at her. Her eyes of gold, so brilliant and so bright, were now dull and lightless. “Rainbow Dash,” she said.

Rainbow’s eyes widened. Unfailing Loyalty dropped from her hand to land with a clatter on the ground. Her goggles slipped from her trembling fingers.

As Blake raised a hand towards her, Rainbow Dash leapt back.

How? None of them… unless there was another chill in there, one that wasn’t possessing anyone until-

“Rainbow Dash,” it said, and seemed almost to take a smug, sick satisfaction out of saying it.

No. No! No, this couldn’t be happening, not to Blake! Not to her, not to Rainbow’s hope, not to the one who could actually do all the things that Rainbow only talked about. Not to Blake, who shone so brightly.

Tears pricked at the corners of Rainbow’s eyes. Not Blake, not her, not…

A thought struck her. A memory. A possibility. Blake couldn’t have been possessed more than a couple of minutes ago, which meant… maybe.

It wasn’t something she’d learned in class, but class wasn’t giving her many options right now.

“Hang in there, Blake,” Rainbow said. “I’ve got you.”

And with that, she sped forwards, a rainbow trail glowing behind her, crossing the distance before the chill in Blake could properly react. Before she could grab Rainbow Dash, Rainbow had already slammed into her, and as she bore Blake to the ground with her impact, she slammed her palm against Blake’s chest and sent a pulse of aura through her.

Through service, we ascend to glory. Through discipline, we rise above fear. Through virtue, we set fury flying. Upon my shoulders, I raise you high and free your soul to soar.

It was like she was trying to activate Blake’s aura. Blake’s aura was already unlocked, but it was suppressed right now, overwhelmed by the darkness of the chill. But, just like when the General had given Rainbow’s aura the kick it needed to come out of its shell and racing to the surface, so too did Rainbow give Blake’s suppressed aura the jumpstart it required. As she struck the ground, Blake’s body jerked and writhed like she was having a fit. Her mouth gaped open, and a shadow, a screeching shadow, erupted out of it in a dark cloud, screaming as it emerged into the sunlight, and still crying out in a gratingly high pitch as it fled, seeking a dark refuge to recover in.

Rainbow lay on top of Blake, hand resting on her chest, feeling suddenly so tired that it was all she could do not to put her head on Blake’s shoulder. Instead she watched, looking at Blake, whose eyes were closed, waiting for them to open.

“Blake?” she asked.

“Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow breathed in and out. “Could you please say something else?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Thank you.”

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief as she collapsed onto the road beside the other girl.

Thank you. Thank you, whatever gods are out there. And thank you, A. K Yearling.

“I didn’t know you could save someone from a chill like that,” Blake murmured.

“I don’t think it works if you leave it too long,” Rainbow replied.

“Still,” Blake said. “Did you learn that in Atlas?”

Rainbow let out a slightly nervous chuckle. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“Daring Do and the Adventure of the Azure Amulet,” Rainbow admitted. “Daring Do saves her friend Marcus from a chill that way.”

“Your plan to save me came from a story?”

“Beacon has a whole class teaching stories,” Rainbow reminded her. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “I suppose it did. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rainbow said, getting to her feet. “No, seriously. Don’t mention it. I don’t want to think about that again if I can help it.” She looked at the burning boutique. “This doesn’t seem like such an easy ride now, does it?” She held out a hand to Blake.

Blake took it and allowed Rainbow to help her to her feet. “No,” she agreed. “No it does not.”

“Are you…?” Rainbow trailed off. “I mean, do you need a minute?”

Blake looked a little paler than she had been before, but she shook her head nevertheless. “I’m fine. We’ve got a job to do, and the others are counting on us.” She paused. “We should probably backtrack away from that fire.”

Rainbow grinned. “Good thinking.”

They backtracked for a little bit, and then – with Twilight’s help and eyes restored to them – resumed their course. They moved through the streets, they took as few shortcuts through stores as they could, they marked a safe way for the others to follow, until their steps brought them eventually to New Street Station. At least, that was what it said on the front, above the doors; it also said Grand Central in big letters mounted on the roof facing east, so maybe they hadn’t quite decided on a name yet. It was marked New Street on the map; maybe they’d been planning to change it but hadn’t gotten round to updating everything yet.

It looked big enough and, well, grand enough to warrant the name Grand Central; despite the years and the decay and everything else, it still looked like the product of an Atlesian architect: a sprawling glass creation the size of a small town, with panels of reflective glass making up the roof, the sunlight of this clear summer day gleaming off them so bright that Rainbow was glad of her goggles. The ceiling above the main entrance, above the faded blue sign proclaiming ‘Mountain Glenn New Street Station’ was bulbous, like a whale’s head, bulging out above the doors to provide some shelter from any rain.

The maps said that there was a whole shopping mall attached to the station, and another one underground as well. Through the shattered doors, Rainbow could see cafes and fast dining places for people waiting for their trains, as well as convenience stores for everything that you might need but had forgotten to pack.

The doors were broken; they had probably been glass like everything else about this place, but the glass was shattered now. There wasn’t any sign that anyone had made any efforts to keep the grimm out, and Rainbow Dash could see why: there wasn’t a single solid wall to be seen.

This is just what I was talking about; how were the grimm not going to come through here and get below?

If there was an obstacle she couldn’t see yet, then it must have been a sturdy one.

However, there wasn’t any sign of the grimm here right now. No sign of the White Fang either. It was completely deserted.

“They’ve been here, though,” Rainbow said.

“How do you know?” asked Blake.

“The bodies are gone,” Rainbow replied.

Blake closed her eyes and shuddered. “And you don’t think that this area was spared?”

“Have we seen anywhere else that was spared like this?” Rainbow asked.

Blake shook her head. “You think the White Fang cleaned up?”

“Wouldn’t you, if you had to live here?”

Blake didn’t reply, but she didn’t contradict Rainbow either. “So, what do you want to do?”

Rainbow pulled Unfailing Loyalty over her shoulder and cocked it. “Let’s take a look inside.”

They did, after all, need to get underground somehow.

So they advanced, passing under the bulbous front jutting out above them, walking over the broken glass that filled the space around the shattered doorframes – the frames that no longer operated automatically, so it was a good thing that the glass was broken – and walked inside, sweeping their weapons back and forth as they scanned for any sign of hostility.

A vast skylight formed the ceiling, and the light of the sun was as bright inside as it had been on the outside, causing the white tiles to fade into a sickly yellow colour. Nature had not yet begun to intrude in here, and with all the grisly evidence of Mountain Glenn’s fall cleared away by the White Fang, it was possible to imagine that nothing really bad had happened in here. It was as if the city was gone but the station had been spared, trapped in another world where Mountain Glenn had never fallen, where instead of scouting through the scene of a bloody catastrophe, Rainbow and Blake had just arrived early for their train; so early, in fact, that the station wasn’t properly up and running yet.

That was why there were no trains up on the board, that was why the ticket barriers weren’t working and Rainbow and Blake had to jump over them, that was why there was no one working at the Lista Para Comer that dominated the centre of the concourse, that was why there was no one around at all, and not a sound to be heard.

It was a nice idea, but completely not true. It couldn’t explain why the blank and powerless boards were starting to fall off their brackets. It couldn’t explain why, even if they were early, there wasn’t even a janitor in sight.

It couldn’t explain why somebody – and Rainbow had a good idea who – had picked the shelves clean of all the bottled water.

Still, there was no sign of any grimm or any White Fang presence lingering here. They checked the upper balcony to be sure but found no one there either. What they did find was a hole in the wall helpfully laboured ‘Staircase to Underground.’ A safety notice advised that there were 800 steps and that people should use the elevator if possible, but that wouldn’t be a problem for huntsmen and huntresses.

It looked as though a blast door – or something like it – had sealed off the passageway, and there were claw marks on the metal as proof that something had tried to get through, but since then, the entrance had been opened up again.

“What do you think?” Blake asked.

“It looks a little suspicious,” Rainbow admitted. “But I wouldn’t exactly call those chills making it easy for us to get here.”

Blake looked like she was trying to repress a shudder. “No,” she murmured. “No, I guess not. So… we’re going to go down there?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “If you want… do you want to go back to The Bus? You can wait with Fluttershy until-”

“No,” Blake said firmly. “No, I… I’m fine. I can do this. I will do this. I have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Rainbow told her. “You don’t owe him a damn thing, not even your sword.”

“Maybe not,” Blake murmured. “But I owe you more than to hide in an airship.”

“Nobody would blame you after what you’ve been through.”

“You’re wrong,” Blake replied. “I’d blame myself.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I bet you would,” Rainbow muttered. What am I going to do with you?

I’m really one to talk, aren’t I?

Rainbow said, “Hey, Blake, while we’re waiting for the others… I don’t really want to press you about this Atlas thing, but-”

“But you’re about to press me about it anyway?”

“I need...” Rainbow paused. “Gilda and the White Fang didn’t just let Fluttershy go.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “I’m shocked,” she said in a voice as dry as Vacuo.

“Was it that obvious?” asked Rainbow.

“You’re not a bad liar,” Blake said. “But I know the White Fang. Gilda… had her delusions, different to mine, but nevertheless.”

“How do you mean?”

“I turned a blind eye to the wrong that we were doing, the evils that we were committing; I convinced myself that we were morally in the right,” Blake explained. “Gilda… I think that she convinced herself that so long as she adhered to a personal code, then none of the broader evils of the White Fang would stick to her. Perhaps she still believes that; I don’t know. Perhaps that would be enough to make her defend Fluttershy, but I don’t think it would be enough to make her defy Adam and release her without his approval, and he would never just let her go. Not unharmed.”

“Actually… he kind of did,” Rainbow replied.

Blake stared at her. “He… he let her go?”

Rainbow nodded. “I don’t know how she did it, but… Fluttershy always wins, I guess.”

Blake raised her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“It’s a private joke,” Rainbow explained. “For somebody who looks like a total pushover, Fluttershy somehow always manages to get her own way. Or at least, always when it’s something important. Important to her… a right or wrong thing; I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s not as selfish as I made it sound; it’s not some passive-aggressive thing; it’s… like, when the Apples had a bat infestation in their orchards two summers back. Applejack just wanted to shoot them and have done with it, but Fluttershy said no. Now, this was Apple land, their honest to goodness Apple orchards, their… it’s where Applejack’s strength comes from, her land… but Fluttershy won, and we found a way to get rid of the bats without killing any of them. Because Fluttershy always wins. It’s like a superpower.”

“Sounds almost like a semblance,” Blake observed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the ‘talking to animals’ thing,” Rainbow replied. “Maybe it’s magic.”

“If magic allowed you to get your own way, Sunset would use it all the time,” Blake observed dryly.

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”

Blake slid down the wall, until she was sitting down with her knees level with her face. “Whatever it, this power… it changed Adam.”

“Who said anything about 'changed'?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I used to think that I could change him,” she murmured. “It wasn’t a switch turning on, the moment when he stopped being the man I fell in love with and became a monster; it was… it was gradual, little things that happened and paved the way for bigger things… at first, he did things and made excuses, and then eventually, the excuses stopped. And I watched all of it, and I… I thought that I could get him back. I thought that I could… save him. I thought that it was my responsibility to save him, as… as the-”

“The girl?” Rainbow asked. “I ought to take those trashy books off you.”

“They’re guilty pleasures.”

“That sounds like more than a guilty pleasure,” Rainbow replied. “It’s not your responsibility-”

“If Fluttershy could reach that part of him, then why couldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter anyway!” Rainbow cried. “Fluttershy didn’t save Adam; she didn’t make him into someone else; she got out! She got out, by herself, without Applejack. I’m not blaming her for that; I’m just putting things in perspective before you get all… she got out. Like you got out. She isn’t any stronger or better than you because she was able to convince him to let her go. Blake… his fall is not your shame.”

Blake did not respond immediately. Eventually she said, “So, if Adam let Fluttershy go, then what?”

“I went to meet him,” Rainbow said. “It was Adam that called, not Gilda. He gave me the location; I left my guns-”

“You left your guns?”

“I didn’t want to give him any reason to go back on his decision,” Rainbow said. “Not with Fluttershy’s life at stake. What if he’d seen a gun and decided not to let her go after all?” She paused. “Sunset thinks I’m an idiot.”

“How does Sunset fit into this?” Blake asked.

“She followed me and observed the exchange,” Rainbow said. She decided not to mention Cinder. “She thinks that I should have tried to kill Adam when I had the chance.”

“That, I can understand you not doing,” Blake replied. “Not with the risk that Fluttershy would get caught in the crossfire. But I agree that going alone and without your guns was… not the smartest thing to do.”

“Maybe it wasn't,” Rainbow admitted. “I am a stupid person, after all; I am a dumb stupid idiot who doesn’t think, and I don’t practice what I preach, and I don’t put enough effort into my homework.”

“What?”

“This is why…” Rainbow trailed off for a moment. “I can’t command Atlas, Blake, not as I am now, maybe not ever. But you can.”

Blake took a step back. “You want me to go to Atlas so that I can… become General?”

“I think Atlas would be improved by having a faunus with two seats on the Council,” Rainbow said. “I think that it wouldn’t hurt our military to have someone like you in command either; you’re smart, you read lots, you work hard at everything, you’re committed to the cause, you talk well-”

“I’m not a leader,” Blake said.

“Yes you are!” Rainbow insisted. “You were born to lead! You’re Chieftain Belladonna’s daughter-”

“And I ran away from my father and my mother because I wanted no part of their legacy,” Blake said.

“And where did you run to?” Rainbow asked.

“The White Fang, you know that.”

“Where in the White Fang?” Rainbow pressed.

Blake was silent for a moment. She looked away and would not meet Rainbow’s eyes. “Sienna Khan,” she admitted.

“You are the daughter of one leader and the pupil of another,” Rainbow declared.

“That does not make me a leader too.”

“No, the fact that you’re a leader without even trying is what makes you a leader!” Rainbow shouted. “Do you really not see it? Do you really not get how absolutely everything you are? You’ve got me, Sunset, Twilight-”

“I thought you were my friends.”

“And why is that?” Rainbow demanded. “Because you inspire loyalty in us, in Starlight, in Trixie...” She paused for a moment. “To each of us falls a task, Blake, and the more that I look at you and everything that you’ve got, the more I think… it might be my dream, but I’m starting to think that it’s your destiny.”

“What if it is not the destiny that I desire?” asked Blake quietly.

“You want to change the world, don’t you?”

“Change the world, yes,” Blake admitted. “But bearing the weight of it on my shoulders is something else.”

“Nobody’s asking you to do it alone,” Rainbow said. “Let us be your armour, all of us like little scales, turning you into a giant.”

“Huh?”

Rainbow sighed. “Imagine an old-fashioned suit of armour, yeah? Like fish scales? Only, they’re not scales; they’re all of us: me and Twi and Ciel and Penny and Team Tsunami and everyone else, all little people making up your armour. Only, we’re not little; you’re huge, and you’re wearing all of us. No, wait, you’re huge because you’re wearing all of us; we protect you, and we make you stronger, strong enough to bear the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, just like the General, because that’s what it means to be the General, to wear the armour-”

“The armour of little people?” Blake murmured. “You’re not making any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense; I’ve seen pictures!” Rainbow insisted. “But the point is… the point is that you will be strong enough; you will always be strong enough because you’ll have the strength of all of us. Look, it doesn’t matter if you get what I mean or not, so long as you understand that I’m asking you to… to become what you were meant to be, for the sake of the whole of Remnant and… and everything in it that matters to me.

“I’m asking you to do the things I can’t.”

Blake opened her mouth, but before she could respond, the quiet of the dead city was interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

Callisto (New)

Callisto

As the city rises all around us, it has been suggested that now might be a good time for me to admit that I was wrong. The disastrous consequences of our choice to settle here, rather than in a tighter and more defensible location further north, have not materialised. There have been grimm attacks, but the huntsmen assure us that they are quite manageable.

Cinder snorted. How very optimistic of them.

Our success here is the talk of Vale, it seems, and Balin is the hero of the hour. He has been appointed Lieutenant Governor of our new city, and there is talk of reviving the honour of knighthood to reward him for his lifetime of service to the kingdom.

I do not begrudge him the acclaim; he has spent much of his life labouring in the Survey Corps for little reward; he has surely earned this, if any man has. I can admit to being wrong. Balin – Sir Balin, as we may soon have to call him – chose the bolder course, and his boldness has been rewarded with great glory.

And, it seems, that same boldness has also rewarded Vale with rich new lands to call its own, or perhaps to call its own once again, for Balin is at pains to remind us that this land was once a flourishing part of the Kingdom of Vale.

And so it shall be once more, it seems.

Listen to me, I am becoming an optimist in my old age.

I am still not sure about the name ‘Mountain Glenn,’ though.

Work above ground and below continues apace; the geologists say the rock beneath our feet is far more malleable than they had anticipated. They are racing to excavate as much as they can beneath us, so that they may shore it up and prevent subsidence when we build above. Otherwise

“Boring,” Cinder murmured to herself, turning the page and skipping the discourse upon engineering and how to safely build one city beneath the other without the city above falling on the city below. Fascinating to a certain type of person, perhaps, but of no interest to her. She was reading this account for darker news.

And she found it, just a couple of pages on, mere days after Crozier’s optimistic account of the progress of the nascent colony.

We lost Graham today.

He had ventured out with a small party to scout the area around the lake to the south. It is some distance from the city, but Balin wishes to spy out the farthest reaches of potential expansion in each direction before we must say ‘this far, but no further.’ And, if we could reach the lake, it would not only free us of a dependency on Vale for fresh water, but also provide a very charming place to live upon the shore.

In any case, Graham was sent out to explore the area; according to the huntsman who went out with him, they had reached the lake itself when they were set upon by a grimm and poor Graham was killed. The huntsman, Bryant, says that the grimm looked like an ursa as best he could tell, but that it moved too quickly to get a good look at it. According to him, it killed Graham and then disappeared again.

If true – if Bryant is not covering for some shame or disgrace on his part – then it is not only faster than any ursa I have ever fled from, but it behaves differently too. I have never known a grimm to kill only one man of a party and then retreat, ignoring the rest.

It seems a more dangerous adversary than any other grimm that has troubled us yet, and Balin is determined that it will not venture closer to the colony. He has ordered five of our huntsmen to kill this creature with all due dispatch.

A smile spread across Cinder’s face as she turned the page. The next couple of entries were filled with rather tedious business of the continued expansion of the colony, but a few days after the death of poor, unfortunate Graham, there was another entry which only broadened the smile on Cinder’s features.

Today is a black day.

Today, I must record the loss of our lieutenant governor, Sir Balin. When visiting the hunting party seeking for the grimm not far from the lake, the group was once again set upon by the creature, and in the confusion, Sir Balin was killed, along with the huntsman Bryant. Of Sir Balin, only his leg was recovered. We have interred him with as much honour as we can.

Vale will no doubt send us a new governor, but as this colony is still under the jurisdiction of the Survey Corps I have ordered that the southern boundary be pulled back and defences be erected far from the lake.

With good fortune, this creature, be it ursa or else, will not venture closer, or if it does will be discouraged by more than a small group of huntsmen.

Cinder nodded. It was the wise course, in the circumstances; not quite wise enough, of course – it was still constrained by the hubris of choosing to establish so large a settlement here in the first place – but within the limits of that overarching folly, the decision had its wisdom.

And their defences had kept that particular grimm at bay, for a time; Cinder knew that because that grimm had come to her, when she had first visited this place to make sure that it was suitable for her needs. Callisto had come before her in the dead streets, sensing the mark of her mistress, and bowed to her, and requested that it be allowed to rend and kill on her behalf and for Salem’s glory.

It had had some interesting, if bloody, stories to tell.

Suffice it to say that the grimm that Crozier wrote of was not quite an ursa. It was… something a little different, something older, and with age had come the wisdom to, say, kill one man and then depart before the others could react.

How will you react, Sunset? How will you react when Jaune or Ruby disappears before your eyes? How long will you put your mission on hold to look for them?

How much of them will you find?

Of course, it might not be so in this case. The skill of Sunset and the others might yet surprise her.

Either way, she hoped they would at least get a shock out of it.

Just so that they didn’t think Cinder was going easy on them.

Sunset was starting to suspect that Cinder had brought them here to Mountain Glenn in order to grind down their spirits.

Forget its advantages as a hiding place, forget that it had an underground city where the White Fang could lurk in, Sunset would genuinely not have put it past Cinder to have chosen this battlefield solely with an eye to how it would make her opponents feel.

At least when she had reason to suspect it would make them feel as grim as the creatures that haunted this necropolis.

Pyrrha had already spoken last night of the way that this city – this rotting carcass of a city, this ruin that once had been a city – encouraged a melancholy within her soul. Sunset had felt the same, but she had possessed some hope that that was as much the darkness talking as the place itself and that the dawn would bring hope and a revival of their spirits.

With a little hindsight, it was clear that a little sunlight was not going to make up for the fact that they were moving through a dead city full of dead bodies.

Does not this city mock ambition?

So Pyrrha had spoken, and the answer remained no less true now than it had been last night. It did, indeed, mock ambition: the ambitions of those who had built this place and so erected a trap for thousands of their fellow citizens, the ambitions of those who had flocked here hoping for a better life but found only death… the ambitions of those who ventured here now, thinking that they could derail the plans of an immortal queen of the grimm.

Plus… the fact that there were skeletons in the street, their skulls grinning up at them… it was just plain creepy.

Sunset let none of this show upon her face. At least, she hoped that she did not. She was the leader of Team SAPR, and with Rainbow having gone off on a jaunt with Blake – yes, it was a good idea, and they were the two probably best to do it; that didn’t stop Sunset being upset at it – she was the only leader that they had. Professor Goodwitch, who had offered no leadership so far, didn’t count in Sunset’s book, and wouldn’t count unless she, Sunset, did something wrong.

Like show that this place was getting to her.

My demeanour must be all cheer. That, or words to that effect, was what she had said in Professor Ozpin’s office when he had challenged her before setting out. Again, with a little hindsight that probably could have become foresight if she had thought about it long enough, that seemed a rather… unhelpful thing to say.

Good cheer would feel very false in such a place as this. It would seem… well, it would seem put on, a mask worn to hide her true feelings, and nobody else would be inspired by an obvious mask.

It had to at least seem a little like her real face in order for it to gain traction with the others.

Not that she could show her actual real face, either. Her real face in this place would have been downcast.

Understanding what Mountain Glenn was had not prepared her to walk its streets, under sun or moon – although walking them under moon had had the advantage that she couldn’t see very well what she was walking through, and it was easier to avoid thinking about what you couldn’t see; yes, the dark had its own terrors, but they were not so nightmarish as the real thing in Mountain Glenn. Knowing that it had been a great settlement, a colony that had fallen to the grimm, had not prepared her to see what those cold words entailed. This place had died, and those who lived here had died with it.

They had died and lain here, waiting for someone else to disturb their rest, to walk their streets, to look upon them with revulsion.

There was nothing like this in Equestria. There were ruins, to be sure, ancient places that had once been thriving, inhabited settlements, but they were ancient, and time had worn away the rough edges of what it meant for these places to be abandoned, leaving only sanitised stones whose stories spoke of gentler things than overrunning ravaging hordes of monsters.

There was nowhere like this. Nowhere it was not even safe to return to bury the dead. Nowhere that so many had perished at once and just lay on the ground, their bones picked clean, bleaching under the harsh light of the sun, mocking and warning the huntsmen in equal measure.

It pricked her conscience. In the dark of the night, she had rather blithely dismissed the idea that she needed or ought to care about those for whom a huntress fought; in the dark of the night, she had found herself entertaining spite at the notion that those she did care for should die for the sake of the little people of Vale. Now, under the light of the sun, the dead of Mountain Glenn judged her for such thoughts, staring into her soul with the unseeing sockets of their skulls.

“Look at us,” they cried, for though they had no tongues, they spoke with most miraculous voices, “we are the past, and we are the future; we are the dead of Mountain Glenn; we are the dead of Vale-”

Vale is not yet fallen, Sunset thought.

“We are that to which you would condemn the folk of Vale,” they replied. “You would make of Vale just such a ruin as this.”

That is not so, Sunset thought. I do not seek to visit death and downfall upon any place.

“But you will not sacrifice to save it.”

Why should I so? Sunset demanded of the dead whose whispers filled her mind. What were you in life, to be worth sacrifice?

“I was a carpenter.”

“I was a housewife.”

“I was a butcher.”

“I was a waitress.”

“I was a clown.”

“We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.”

Sunset suppressed a shudder. The huntsmen of Mountain Glenn were true to their oaths and paid the price for it. It follows not that I should follow in their steps. I ask again, wherefore should I esteem the lives of Vale above the lives of my dear friends?

“Should Vale fall, then it will be a black thing for the huntress who failed to defend it. And at the world’s ending, all the souls shall rise for judgement and cry out ‘I died on such a day because I put my faith in Sunset Shimmer, and Sunset Shimmer proved faithless’.”

Sunset’s face twitched with a momentary flash of irritation and indignation combined. Maybe it was so. Perhaps it would be so. And yet, if she subscribed to the logic of sacrifice, if she allowed these brilliant lights to cease to burn, if the Evenstar of Mistral faded from the night sky, if the shadows claimed Blake and all her promise, if the Rainbow ceased to Dash between the clouds, what then? What would be lost? A kingdom would live, but at what cost if another kingdom should lose all history and virtue that resided in the last of its noble line? If the faunus who might transform Atlas for the better found themselves, not even graves, but merely resting places amongst the dead of Mountain Glenn, what then? Was not the world greater than the Kingdom of Vale? Did it not furnish her excuse enough to justify her instincts?

Why do I think thus? Why do I accept already Professor Ozpin’s logic? Why do I pay heed to silent voices?

“You feel it coming. You have felt it since you arrived in this city. The moment of decision approaches.”

Be silent! If you must disturb our minds and dampen our spirits then have the dignity at least to do so quietly!

I will have all things that I desire. I will order all things as I will. I will save Vale without sacrificing a single life amongst this party, just as I vowed to Professor Ozpin I would.

Harken to me, you dead of Mountain Glenn! Mark me with your sightless eyes! Observe me, as your cold equations are defied and denied and rendered as nothing by the magic of a unicorn!

I was not made for servile submission. I was not born with such a spirit as will bow to the decrees of… any other being. Not even Princess Celestia, wisdom and power so mixed in her that nature might say to every world existent ‘here is one worthy of obedience!’... not even her did I obey. Even she did I defy when she commanded me to put on humble garb and lower my proud head and bend my prouder knees in supplication. I would not do so, not even for her and all the love I bore her still; I will not do it for Professor Ozpin nor for you bleached and rotting bones!

I was not made to accept, but to choose; I was fashioned by the hand of nature to decide my fate, and I choose to have my victory and my friends along with it.

I was born with the power to reshape the world.

And I shall do so.

The dead of Mountain Glenn were silent in response. She had robbed them of their tongues as she had robbed them of their power. The miasma of this place receded; though Mountain Glenn retained the power to chill her yet, the fire of her own pride and passion warmed her heart against it as once the fires of friendship had warmed the hearts of ponies ‘gainst the windigos.

That was what she needed to convey to the others; as their leader, she needed – she had a responsibility – to set a fire in them such as she had ignited in herself.

“Halt!” Sunset called, raising a hand just as she raised her voice, letting it shatter the silence of Mountain Glenn and echo off the houses of the dead.

Sunset turned to look behind her; she had chosen to place herself at the centre not only because it suited her abilities but also because it enabled her to be close enough – in the intent, at least – to everyone to observe them and see how they were faring in this soul-destroying place.

The poisoned atmosphere of Mountain Glenn was affecting everyone, as if there were some magic on this place, a curse upon the very stones; Celestia knew – or did not know; Sunset had no idea how she could begin to explain such a place as Mountain Glenn to her old teacher; she was not sure she wanted to – what it would be like once they got underground.

Her task was to do something about the situation now, and do enough that the fire she sparked would burn on even once the sun had failed and they were plunged into the darkness of the underworld.

Jaune and Pyrrha both looked back at her to see why she had called the halt; Sunset marked their faces, the pallor of Jaune’s face, the tightness marring Pyrrha’s lovely features; she tried to ignore Professor Goodwitch’s frown; the professor would see what she was about soon enough; her gaze passed over Ruby before Sunset turned back to look at Ciel and Penny.

Ruby, in Sunset’s opinion, was dealing with it the best, or at least she was appearing to deal with it the best, which might not be the same thing at all. In either case, Penny was quite clearly suffering the most at the hands of their gloomy surroundings. She could not turn pale, as Jaune had done, but her hands were meekly clasped before her and her head kept bowing in spite – it seemed – of the fact that she was trying to prevent it. Her expression was downcast, her mouth hanging somewhat open, the light of her eyes dimming.

It was not so surprising; she looked as young as Ruby, she acted younger still and was, in fact, even younger than her actions might suggest. None of them here had seen death on this scale, but Penny could hardly be old enough to have comprehended the idea before she was confronted with it.

And she didn’t take the stuff about Salem that well, either. That probably isn’t helping.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. It was unfortunate that it was Penny, whom Sunset knew little and had spent no time with outside of group gatherings of the whole two teams, who needed her assistance first. In the absence of her actual team leader – thank you, Rainbow Dash – it fell to Sunset to pick her up, but how? How should she approach this?

Penny glanced at her partner for help, but Ciel was murmuring something to herself, words that Sunset could not make out; it seemed that she was fighting a battle of her own and had nothing to spare to aid Penny in her struggle.

The same could be said of Pyrrha, and it would be unfair to ask Ruby for help just because she appeared to be holding it together best of all. That ‘appear,’ after all, might be doing a great deal of work.

No, this was Sunset’s task. A leader’s task.

Sunset walked away from Ruby, past Professor Goodwitch, past Ciel; she walked to the rear of their little column until she stood in front of Penny. Penny seemed not to notice her, with her head bowed and her eyes turned down, clutching her hands together.

Silently, Sunset reached out and clasped Penny’s hands in her own. Through the gloves she wore, Penny’s hands didn’t feel like Sunset had expected them to: not so hard, not so obviously artificial.

If she hadn’t told me so, I wouldn’t guess she was a robot at all.

Which is the point, I suppose.

Penny looked up into Sunset’s face. “Sunset?”

Sunset smiled at her. “Hi, Penny,” she said. She paused for a moment. “It’s not easy, is it?”

Penny hesitated. She hiccuped. “I don’t-”

“Nobody here thinks any the less of you, Penny,” Sunset assured. “Nobody likes it here. I’m not sure that anyone should. If you could skip merrily through this place, you wouldn’t be… human,” she finished, because as much as it might not be technically correct, there was no other way to finish that sentence that actually stood a chance of working.

Working for Penny, or working for Sunset. She had to stop thinking about Penny as a robot; it wasn’t helping her relate to the other girl any more – strange, considering that they actually had ‘look human but aren’t really’ in common – so it was best to ignore and treat her the way that Sunset would treat anyone else.

Only, you know, actually be nice to her.

Penny’s mouth flattened. “But I’m not human, am I?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Do you want to hear a secret, Penny?” she asked. She leaned forwards and whispered into Penny’s ear. “Neither am I.”

Penny gasped. Her eyes widened. “Really? No, that’s not possible! You must be lying!”

“Can’t you do a thing where you analyse my heartbeat and realise that I’m telling you the truth?” Sunset asked.

Penny’s vivid green eyes darted up and down for a moment, something mechanical whirring behind them. Said eyes grew even wider. “Really?” she repeated, with even more wonder in her voice than there had been before.

“Really,” Sunset agreed. “Only keep it to yourself, please; you’re the first person outside of my teammates and Blake to find out.”

Penny nodded eagerly. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered. “But… why would you tell me something like this?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Sunset said. “You, me, we’re not human, but so what? I yet feel pride as Pyrrha does, you still love like Ruby does… and we both feel fear, and doubt, and despair gnawing at our hearts within this place.”

“You feel it too?” Penny asked softly.

“That which I see in your eyes would take the heart of me,” Sunset told her.

Penny hesitated. “So much death,” she whispered. “So much destruction.”

“It upsets you,” Sunset said; it was a statement, not a question. “Use it.”

“Sunset?”

“Use it,” Sunset repeated. “If this upsets you, then think about what will happen to Vale, or Atlas, if we don’t stop it. This is what our enemies would visit upon Vale; this is what will befall all the kingdoms if we don’t draw the line here. Use this, Penny, think about this, think about all that will happen if we fail… and let it give you strength so that we do not fail.

“This is the consequence of defeat, Penny: Vale shall become another Mountain Glenn. But if we succeed, then you will have proved your worth to all those who doubted you. General Ironwood thought that you needed Rainbow Dash to babysit you, to be there to pick up the slack in case you didn’t measure up, but he won’t be saying that when we get back to Vale, having stopped the White Fang dead in their tracks. Your father thought you needed protection, he wasn’t sure that you were suited for the field, but today is the day you prove him wrong.” Sunset raised her voice so that everyone could hear her. “We will earn our loved ones cheers on our return!” She quietened again, and once more spoke so that only Penny could hear her. “So what do you say, are you ready?”

Penny paused a moment, then nodded. “Combat ready.”

Sunset grinned and patted her on the shoulder. “Good girl,” she said.

“Sunset,” Penny said quietly, as Sunset made to turn away. “If you… if you’re not… then what are you?”

The grin widened upon Sunset’s face. “Awesome,” she said, and then she really did turn away, although only to walk the couple of steps separating her from Ciel Soleil. Distant Thunder was in her hands, but folded up for ease of movement, so Sunset could approach without the long barrel of the rifle getting in her way at all. Ciel’s expression was inscrutable, and the only sign that she was in any way discomfited by Mountain Glenn was the way that she was muttering to herself.

“'Though I walk in darkness, thou art my light; for thy teachings illuminate my path, and thy radiance surrounds me and keeps me from all evil-'”

“A prayer?” Sunset asked.

Ciel frowned. “Yes. Or one might call it a catechism.”

“Is she with us even in this place, your Lady of the North?”

“If the Lady’s power reached no further than the north, then we would be truly forsaken,” Ciel replied. “It is true that I am far from home, but God lies in all realms, and the Lady is God’s intermediary, who acts for us on His behalf and pleads to him on ours. She will not abandon us now, not even in this domain of evil.”

“Evil, you call it?”

“What else should I call it?” asked Ciel.

“Tragedy?” Sunset suggested. “Misfortune.”

“Misfortune and tragedy occurred here, but that is not what has tainted these very stones,” Ciel replied. “Evil has done this.”

“And yet the Lady’s light will shield you from its malice?” Sunset asked.

“Faith is my shield, and duty is my armour,” Ciel declared. “You need have no fears for me, Sunset Shimmer. Nor any fears about my conduct,” she added.

I hope so, Sunset thought. “I am glad to hear it,” she said. “I will leave you to your prayers, then.” She walked back down the line the way that she had come, once more passing Professor Goodwitch who seemed a little less puzzled now by what Sunset was doing.

Ruby was next, in the centre of the column, Crescent Rose held in carbine configuration in her small, pale hands.

“Ruby,” Sunset murmured.

Ruby looked up at her, able to muster a slight smile upon her face. “Hey, Sunset. You don’t need to worry about me, either. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Sunset replied. “You don’t need to pretend if you’re not.”

“I’m okay,” Ruby repeated. “This place… it makes me sad, but it doesn’t get me down. It makes me stronger, because it’s what we’re fighting to prevent.”

Sunset snorted. “Spoken like a true huntress. You really are a special one, aren’t you?”

Ruby looked away, a splash of colour rising to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, “for helping Penny. I was starting to get a little worried about her, but… but I didn’t know what to say.”

“Really?” Sunset asked, a little surprised. “You could have just told her what you told me.”

“Maybe,” Ruby conceded. “But I didn’t know it would work. How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t,” Sunset admitted. “But I had to try something, given that I'm the team leader and my esteemed colleague has absented herself.”

“She’s-”

“I know, I know,” Sunset said. “Let me complain anyway.” She paused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ruby nodded. “I’m fine, Sunset, really. Go check on Jaune and Pyrrha.”

Sunset clasped Ruby warmly on the shoulder and continued down the line.

Jaune was pale and shivering; Sunset didn’t think the cold was responsible for either condition.

Of course, of all of them, Jaune was the only one she knew had seen a man die.

“Hey, Jaune,” she said quietly. “How are you doing?”

Jaune blinked rapidly. “Professor Goodwitch… she really helped me out after, you know,” he said. “And it’s not like I haven’t seen death before; I come from a farming village, for crying out loud, I know what bones look like. I just… there’s so much.”

Sunset nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think about how this might affect you.”

“It’s affecting everybody, right?” Jaune asked. “Even you?”

“As your inspiring leader, I cannot confirm that,” Sunset said dryly. She hesitated. Jaune’s situation, his… what had happened to him went deeper than you could magic away with a few well-spun words delivered in the classical format.

She had sufficient respect for him, and his reasons for being here, not to ask if he wanted to turn back. It would demean him and show that she did not esteem him as a part of the team. That… wasn’t true any more. It was true that the greatest part of his value to the team resided in his semblance, but the fact was that he did have value.

And he was the one who saw what Cinder was, while I was blind.

I didn’t admit that.

“You were right, Jaune,” she said.

That must have seemed quite abrupt to him, because it took him a moment to respond. “Sunset?”

“Don’t expect me to repeat myself.”

“I heard you just fine, I just… right about what?”

“Cinder,” Sunset said softly. “You saw… what she was doing to me.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed. “I thought that you still-”

“I do,” Sunset confirmed, before he could say it. “I still… but she is our enemy, and you saw that before I did.” She paused. “You have sharper eyes than I do, sometimes. I need that. I need you to see what I miss.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “Are you trying to make me feel needed?”

“Is it working?” Sunset asked. “I know that I can’t change what’s happened to you, or talk you into not feeling it any more, but… I’m trying my best here.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “And I appreciate that.” He was the one who put his hand on her shoulder. It was steadier than it had looked. “I’m right here, Sunset. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think I could handle it.”

“And now that you’re here?” Sunset asked.

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha, who looked as though she was pretending not to listen to their conversation, but might actually not be listening to their conversation – it was Pyrrha, after all, and eavesdropping was so frightfully impolite. “I can handle it,” he declared. “I don’t like it, and I’m looking forward to going home, but I know we have a ways to go yet, and I’m prepared to go wherever it takes.” He smiled. “To earn our loved ones’ cheers, right?”

Sunset chuckled. “Okay. If you say that you’ve got it under control, then I trust you.” She glanced at Pyrrha, then back to Jaune. “This will all be over soon,” she promised him.

“I hope so,” Jaune said quietly.

Pyrrha was the last. Pyrrha, at the head of the column. Pyrrha, the tip of the spear, standing with her back to them all, her shield held at her side and her spear held tight in her hand, her red hair and crimson sash both blown sideways by the breeze so that they seemed like banners, and Pyrrha herself stood as still as the pole from which those flags might fly. The sunlight glimmered off her gilded armour and off the circlet bound about her brow.

She did not belong here. None of them belonged here; this was a city made for those who were dead, and the dead kept it, and any living man who ventured here was a trespasser by definition – but Pyrrha seemed to belong here even less than most of them. She was a creature of another world, thrust into this time and place from out of the pages of some dusty epic full of old deeds and even older values. So noble a thing did not belong here in this squalid place, this home of ruin, this place befouled by evil. She was too noble for it; she gleamed like a pearl amongst swine, and like that pearl, none could look at her and not be struck by how out of place she was.

Sunset stood beside her, silent, not immediately speaking, waiting instead for Pyrrha to speak.

“There has been no trouble,” she murmured.

“No,” Sunset replied. “Rainbow and Blake have laid out a clear path for us.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I would almost have preferred a battle to this… this brooding melancholy.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “A disquiet follows my soul.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “You’re not the only one.”

“You hide it very well,” Pyrrha whispered.

The corner of Sunset’s lip twitched upwards. “I’m the team leader; that’s my job.”

“Then should you really be telling me otherwise?” Pyrrha asked, a note of playfulness entering into her voice.

“You’d know if I was lying, I think,” Sunset replied. “And besides, I have to acknowledge the difficulties of the situation before I can convince you that it’ll be alright in the end. That’s paragraph two of the five-point speech.”

“Did Professor Goodwitch teach you that, or have you read Miltiades?” Pyrrha asked.

“I read Miltiades,” Sunset said, “but not until after Professor Goodwitch mentioned him.” She took pause a while. “You know why we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves yet.”

“I am aware,” Pyrrha said softly. “And yet… is it so wrong of me to wish for something to take my mind off all of this? When battle begins, it consumes my thoughts; there is little room for aught else. Yet now… with the way ahead decided for us and no sign of any foes, I find there is much room for much else.” She sighed. “This is a foul place. In this place…”

“We bring our perils with us here, I think,” Sunset said softly, sparing Pyrrha the need to continue. “That is why Ruby has taken no hurt from it.”

“And yet Penny has?” Pyrrha asked.

“Penny is not Ruby, for all that she is innocent,” Sunset countered. “Innocent, but not free from… you remember how she took the news about Salem.”

“Ah,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, I think I see what you mean. This place, it… it speaks to me of the futility of struggle, the inevitability of… Sunset?”

“Yes?”

“What is paragraph four?” Pyrrha asked. “What is the part where you tell me how we’re going to win? What is the part where you inspire me? I think I’d like to hear that now, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re not going to like it,” Sunset warned her.

“I like very little about any of this,” Pyrrha said. “Say on.”

“My pride armours me,” Sunset said. “Perhaps the Invincible Girl would be less vulnerable to this place than Pyrrha Nikos is.”

Pyrrha was silent a little while before she said, “Sunset, I fear that the Invincible Girl has seen nothing in this place but has proved to her that no one is invincible and that all her glories and her triumphs are but worthless empty baubles, counting for nothing in the face of the true savagery of the world.”

“And what is the White Fang but the true savagery of the world?” Sunset demanded. “What is the true savagery that brought down this place but the grimm whom we have faced, and bested, more than once? You are not some naif plucked from the Colosseum to join us here, full of tournament-bred arrogance and arena-insulated ignorance about the way we do things! You are the girl who leapt from the cliffs to come to our aid when we were sorely besieged by the grimm, you are the girl who ventured forth from Mistral when none other dared defend the city, you are the girl who has fought the White Fang more than once, and they have not touched you. That is who you are, that is your invincibility, and I dare these dead men to mock it with their dusty tongues! You are the pride of this team and the greatest warrior to step forth from Mistral in more than a generation! That is what I would have you remember, that is the pride in which I would have you armour yourself. That is how I have protected myself from the malice of this mausoleum. Does that help you at all, or are you too humble to a fault to even entertain the notion of acknowledging your own skill?”

“I am not so humble,” Pyrrha reminded her. “I am aware of my own skill, and I will even own a certain pride in what I can do well, but-”

“If the ability to triumph in combat against one enemy or a small number is of no use, then we are all done for,” Sunset pointed out. “You are not unique in that respect. Not even Rainbow Dash would claim to be able to triumph against an army alone. But you are not alone.”

“No,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “No, I am not.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “And as you rely on me to be your spear, I shall not fail you.”

“I never thought you would,” Sunset assured her. She held out her hand. “We will be the greatest huntresses of our age when we triumph here. No one of our years will have done such a thing.”

Pyrrha took her hand, and clasped it warmly. “So long as we have protected those who shelter beneath our shields, that will suffice for me.”

Sunset smiled, before she returned to her place in the centre of the formation.

She thought she saw a faint smile on Professor Goodwitch’s face.

Sunset did not acknowledge it. That would have been terribly bad form. Instead, she merely raised her voice and called out, “Forward!”

Cinder kept the journal tucked beneath her arm as she walked through the White Fang camp.

Adam’s shoulders, she noticed as she approached him, were not quite so straight as they had been last night. They were more hunched, more bowed with shame; as well he might feel ashamed for this rank disobedience. If Emerald had not come and told Cinder what was going on, well… her plans might have been thrown into complete disarray.

He had no right to do what he had done; he had no right to put his… his conscience – since when did he even have a conscience? She had sought him out in the first place because he was a bloodthirsty monster with no morals! – above her goals.

She had thought that Adam’s wrath, his need to strike back at those who had wronged him, his obsession with Blake, his hatred of Sunset and Rainbow Dash, all these qualities made him easy to manipulate, but it seemed that there were yet parts of him that she had not seen, and those parts threatened to make him ungovernable.

She could have killed him for what he had done. There was yet a part of her that wished to kill him. But he was, for the moment, yet useful to her, or more to the point, she could not yet afford to do without him. Gilda had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t trust Cinder an inch – as well she might not; she was wiser in this than her chief by far – and as much as she had made herself unpopular amongst the rank and file, that unpopularity would be as nothing compared to the outrage that would ensue if Cinder burnt Adam alive the way she wanted to.

If she did that, then all of Gilda’s offences would be washed away, and she would take control of the White Fang in Vale and turn them squarely against Cinder.

She could not allow that. And so, against that eventuality, she was forced to retain Adam’s services for the time being.

Fortunately, the time was soon at hand when she could do without him, and the rest of these idiots besides.

If there was something that she perhaps ought to thank Twilight for, it was for bringing that parting of the ways so much closer.

Dealing with Adam was… rather tiresome, in many ways. She would not be at all upset to see the back of him. Or simply not to see him again.

Chastising him for his recent transgression had been enormously satisfying.

“Start up the jammer,” she commanded.

“You told us to leave it off before,” Adam pointed out.

“And now I’m telling you to turn it on,” Cinder informed him magisterially. “I do not think it meet that our… guests should enjoy the luxury of communications.”

“Communications are bad enough here as it is,” Adam muttered.

Cinder raised one eyebrow.

“But it will be as you wish,” Adam added, sullenly.

Gods, you’re a petulant child sometimes, aren’t you?

“Good,” Cinder said. “How is the loading of the train progressing?”

“As fast as possible.”

“Also good,” Cinder replied. “They’ll be here soon.”

Probably.

Pyrrha stopped.

There had been a barricade before them. Pyrrha could tell because they had found their route blocked by similar barricades before – blocked in the sense they could not continue; of course, Rainbow and Blake had already marked out alternatives for them, shortcuts through buildings or back-alleys – and it was clear from the remains that this had been such a barricade. The street in front of her was littered with debris, corrugated iron sheets and solid-looking metal plates and beams of wood and metal that had propped it up.

However, it no longer blocked the street but only littered it; it had collapsed, parts of it shattered into pieces, others simply unmoored and left to fall. Either way, it presented no obstacle to them.

Not anymore.

Which was why Pyrrha had stopped.

Everyone else had stopped as well. Pyrrha could hear footsteps scraping on the surface of the road behind her, before she caught sight of Sunset out of the corner of her eye.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Pyrrha gestured towards the barricade with Miló. “That barricade is down, we could go through there.”

“I see that,” Sunset said.

“So why have Rainbow and Blake marked out that we should go through that electronics store?” Pyrrha demanded, gesturing now towards the splash of fresh white paint on the door of the aforementioned electronics store, advertising great deals on trade-in video games.

Sunset understood her point at once: the barricade must have been there when Rainbow and Blake passed this way, only to have been destroyed since by… something else.

“Make ready!” Sunset called, unslinging Sol Invictus off her shoulder. “Close up.”

Pyrrha could hear Crescent Rose unfolding its thorns with a series of mechanical clicks and hydraulic hisses behind her. She heard their footsteps as they closed up on the head of the column.

Sunset tapped two fingers to her earpiece. “Twilight? Twilight, can you hear me? Twilight?! Blake, Rainbow Dash, are you there?”

“Can you not get through?” Pyrrha asked.

“No,” Sunset growled. “Perhaps they started jamming us, but why now?”

“It’s a little surprising that they haven’t done it before, right?” Jaune said. “I mean, they’ve known we were here since last night; that’s why they let Fluttershy go.”

“Good point,” Sunset allowed. “But they didn’t start jamming us then, so why start now?”

“Maybe they only just remembered,” Penny suggested hopefully.

“Or maybe they only wanted to cut us off now,” Ruby muttered.

Sunset’s tail twitched back and forth as she looked left and right, glancing up at the flat roofs of the shops on either side of them. Pyrrha looked too. She could see nothing and hear nothing.

But something had broken down the barricade.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” Sunset said. “We continue on the route that has been marked for us because… because it is the route that has been marked for us. However, there is a fair chance that something has gotten between us and the scouting party, and so for that reason, I’ll take the lead from now on.”

“You put me in the lead when you don’t believe there’ll be actual danger and then take the lead the moment it seems there might be?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset looked at her. “I will not ask you to go first into the dark.”

“I am the best suited here to go first into the dark,” Pyrrha replied. “At close quarters, I am more capable than you are; your semblance requires range.”

Sunset did not take her eyes away from Pyrrha. “I will not ask you to do what I am not willing to do myself.”

“What you are willing to do is not always what you should do,” Pyrrha insisted. “And you do not need to ask.”

Sunset scowled. “If there is a grimm behind that door, if it is smart enough to work out what the paint means-”

“Then I will speak to it,” Pyrrha declared. “And speak with greater eloquence knowing that you are behind me.”

Sunset hesitated, so Pyrrha pressed home her advantage, “You reminded me that I am no longer a tournament fighter new to the battlefield; then let me remind you that we are not some new-founded team placed together yesterday by Professor Ozpin. You have no need to prove your valour, to me or anyone here. A leader need not always lead from the front, not even in Mistral.” Pyrrha smiled. “And we are not even in Mistral.”

Sunset smiled and sighed both at the same time, or near enough. “You speak near as well with your tongue as with your spear,” she said. “Very well. Jaune, back up Pyrrha, I’ll be right behind you.”

Jaune nodded. “Of course,” he said, with a glance her way.

Pyrrha smiled at him.

“But we are going to change things up at the rear,” Sunset insisted. “Since it seems that we have more to worry about ahead of us than behind, Ciel, you’re our new rearguard; Penny, you’re with Ruby behind me.”

“Understood,” Ciel murmured.

“I’ll do my best,” said Penny.

Pyrrha changed Miló into sword mode in her hand; as a blade, the weapon was shorter, and in what might be the tight quarters inside the shop, where there might well be a grimm – and it would have to be a reasonably old grimm to be clever enough to work out what the white paint meant – waiting to pounce on her as soon as she walked through the door, then she would be glad of a shorter weapon.

She approached the door cautiously. She could hear Jaune’s breathing behind her. She could feel the breeze upon her neck above her glimmering gorget, kissing her skin and brushing her hair gently aside. She could feel her hair too, the loose strands of it tickling her back and shoulders.

With Akoúo̱ clinging her to her arm, she pushed at the door. It stuck a little, which might have been an argument against the idea of a grimm lurking there, save that if this place did not have a back entrance, then Blake and Rainbow Dash would not have sent them this way.

A little extra force, and the slightest touch of her semblance to the hinges, and the door gave way before her, exposing… very little actually, on account of the darkness which shrouded the interior.

Shelves had been knocked over, scattering circuit breakers and extension leads and gaming consoles across the floor. A few shelves stood near the back of the room, but not many. The air was stale and musty, but Pyrrha could not see any sign of death in the place.

Mind you, it was so dark that just because she couldn’t see it was not to say that it was not there.

What she could see clearly was the splash of white paint on the door; apparently, it was luminescent on top of all its other qualities.

Pyrrha stepped towards it heavily, she would have to admit. She was not Blake; though she strove to move with grace, that grace did not possess a feline aspect; her steps, if they did not resound, nor were they silent. Her enemies would always hear her coming.

It hadn’t seemed to matter until now.

So she walked forward, tramping objects under foot, hearing Jaune do likewise behind her.

In fact, as the others followed, Pyrrha was… not comforted, precisely, but any shame she might have felt was lessened by the fact that nobody else was moving silently either.

With the exception of Professor Goodwitch; Pyrrha couldn’t hear her at all.

She had almost reached the other door when Penny hissed, “Wait!”

Pyrrha half-turned towards her.

“I can hear something,” Penny whispered, pointing above them.

The eyes of the entire group turned upwards, to the ceiling that hung over their heads, the dead lights and the metal grill and everything else above them.

Pyrrha could hear nothing. But she trusted Penny. If Penny could hear something, then Pyrrha did not doubt her.

She waited. They all waited. Sunset pointed her rifle up at the ceiling. Ciel did likewise, and Ruby as well.

For a moment, the world was still, and in the darkness, there was nought but silence.

Then the roof collapsed, a hole torn violently through it as sunlight and the sound of a great bellowing roar streamed in from above them. Penny dived forward, bearing Ruby to the ground and shielding her friend beneath her body as wood and metal and cement debris rained down upon it. Jaune shielded himself, but still went down on his backside with a squawk of alarm beneath the force of the deluge. Pyrrha was too far away from the opening, but Sunset-

There was a cry as Sunset was seized by some dark shape and borne upwards, Sol Invictus falling from her grasp and clattering to the ground as she disappeared out of the hole in the roof.

“Sunset!” Ruby cried.

Distant Thunder roared, the sound of the blast echoing in the room as the muzzle flash of the great gun lit up the darkness. Ciel’s shot punched a second, lesser hole in the roof, but Pyrrha could not see that it had done anything else.

“Don’t shoot!” Pyrrha yelled. “You might hit Sunset!” For her part, she hurled Akoúo̱ upwards towards the hole, and then, as it reached the gap that had been torn by their assailant, she used Polarity to pull herself up, almost flying through the air until she could reach out and grab the hole, hauling herself through it, backflipping as she went, hair flying around her like dancing flame as she landed nimbly on the roof of the building.

Akoúo̱ flew onto her outstretched arm as she faced their opponent.

It was an ursa. At least she thought it was an ursa at first, but its head was not exactly right; it didn’t look quite like any ursa that she had faced before; the bony skull was shorter, more… more human, in a bizarre fashion, not quite a man’s skull – perhaps a man’s skill that had moulded and misshaped in some way – but more that than the head of an ursa.

It was more armoured than any ursa – even an ursa major – that Pyrrha had ever heard of; it had no spikes, no elongated spurs of bone, but it was covered almost completely in bony plates; there was barely any black to be seen. How could so armoured a grimm move so silently? How was it they had not heard it coming from halfway across Mountain Glenn?

That hardly mattered now; what mattered was that the creature had Sunset’s neck in its teeth and was shaking her like a rat, her limbs flailing wildly as it shook her up and down, its fangs crushing her throat and her aura with it.

Pyrrha reached out, stretching her semblance forth and latching onto Sunset’s cuirass, her vambraces, the studs of her jacket, anything metal that she was wearing, anything that she could grab hold of with Polarity and pulling it with all the strength that her soul gave her, pulling against the strength of this grimm, pulling Sunset out of its jaws and towards her.

Sunset’s eyes bulged as she was torn between the two powerful forces, each determined to keep her in their grasp.

Polarity won out. The soul won out. The light won out against the darkness as Sunset was wrenched out of the grimm’s toothy grip and flew through the air into Pyrrha’s outstretched arm.

Pyrrha let Sunset down gently on the roof. Then she slung Akoúo̱ onto her back, formed Miló into spear form, gripped it tightly in both hands, and charged, the red and gold of her weapon blurring before her as it spun, her scarlet sash trailing behind her like a banner as she leapt across the gap in the roof to confront the grimm.

Its eyes burned like fire as it growled at her. Pyrrha stared right back, silent, her face as grim as the grimm that opposed her.

Its jaws snapped shut on empty air. It had taken Sunset by surprise, but Pyrrha was not Sunset, and she was not surprised. As soon as her enemy began to move, she moved, rolling aside, Miló scraping down the grimm’s armoured flank, the metal scratching against the bone. Of course it did; she didn’t have the raw strength to smash through the plate of so well-protected a grimm as this.

But there were gaps between the plates, like the gap into which she thrust Miló, shoving the weapon with all her strength.

It barely penetrated the grimm’s armour before it got stuck, wedged between the two plates of bone, unable to move forward, unable to move back; Pyrrha had no idea if she had even penetrated to the black flesh beneath.

She would have to use Polarity to get her weapon back and then-

Something struck Pyrrha in the flank, knocking her off her feet. The grimm, its neck had grown, or rather, it had grown a neck, a long black neck that stretched around its bulky body to slam into her.

Pyrrha tried to get to her feet, but the grimm, its neck growing even longer, coiling like a serpent, stretched out to clamp its jaws around her foot, fangs scraping against the gilded metal of her greaves. Pyrrha cried out as her aura dropped, her cry becoming elongated as the grimm with its unnatural neck cast her bodily into the air and hurled her off the roof.

She flew across the street. She flew beyond the street, and as the air rushed past her, as she spun head over heels, as she tumbled and fell and the world span around her, Pyrrha could barely think to use Polarity to slow her descent. She tried to reach out for any metal that she could find, but it did not stop her from crashing through the wall of a building and into a decaying dining room, the places still set for a meal that would never be served.

Pyrrha lay on the floor for a moment, reaching for her scroll to see how much damage had been done to her aura. It felt as though it had taken quite a hit.

She heard the sound of gunshots, the high-pitched crack of Crescent Rose mingling with the boom of Distant Thunder.

There was no time to check her aura.

Pyrrha leapt to her feet in a smooth, fluid motion. She started to run, her arms pounding, running out of the abandoned house, hair and sash flying after her. She couldn’t hear Crescent Rose any more.

Pyrrha hit the door that stood in her way head on, smashing it off its hinges as she tore, heedless, through a sporting goods store. She burst out into the street – just as Ciel slammed into the wall beside her hard enough to crack and dent the stones beneath her.

The front of the electronics store had been destroyed. The grimm, whatever kind of grimm it was, had descended through the roof – of which nothing now remained – to engage the rest of the team.

The grimm was on its hind legs now; even its belly was armoured, all of it covered in plate, protected as any knight of old would have envied. It had one massive paw placed upon Penny’s back, pinning her down face-first so that she could not bring Floating Array to bear. The other paw was crushing Ruby beneath its weight, heedless of her attempts to push it off or scrabble out from under it.

Only Sunset and Professor Goodwitch were still on their feet. Professor Goodwitch flicked her riding crop back and forth, and yet, her telekinesis seemed to do nothing to it, as if it was too big for her semblance to touch it, too heavy for her to move.

As if it was immune to such things as it was immune to the bullets of Ruby or Ciel.

Sunset faced the creature, ears flattened down amongst her flaming hair, bolts of magic flying from her hands, one after the other, to strike the beast upon its chest, but she might as well have been spitting for all the good that she was doing.

It had Jaune in its grip. He was caught in its jaws, its human and yet inhuman mouth embracing him. Only his aura – and that armour that seemed so inadequate now – stood between Jaune, sweet Jaune, her Jaune, and being snapped in two.

Not while I draw breath.

Pyrrha let out a wordless roar as she thrust out with polarity, seizing Miló in her semblance grasp and pushing it with all the might her soul commanded downwards, through its armour, into the grimm.

It was a hard struggle. The gaps between the armour were tight, and there was little room to move. But Pyrrha was insistent. She would not lose. She would not lose Jaune. She would not lose Ruby or Penny. She would not lose.

Miló moved. It moved slowly, but it moved.

The grimm turned its head towards her.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Sunset growled, and she ceased to fire magic at the creature of grimm but rather grabbed its head in telekinesis, enshrouding it in the light of her magic, holding it in place. “Keep doing what you’re doing, Pyrrha,” she yelled. She held out her hands, and the grimm’s grip upon Jaune in its jaws loosed a little.

“Professor, get Jaune!” Sunset yelled.

Professor Goodwitch obeyed, flicking her riding crop to yank Jaune free and dump him on the ground safely away from the grimm.

“I’d love to let you catch your breath, Jaune, but I think Pyrrha could use a bit of a boost,” Sunset said.

Jaune did not need telling twice. He did not wait to scramble to his feet, to rush first on all fours and then on two to Pyrrha’s side.

“Are you alright?” they asked each other at once.

“I will be, once everyone is,” Jaune said, and without another word, he placed his hands upon her shoulders, and a golden light spread out from his hands and from his fingertips to envelop Pyrrha with its glistening cloud.

She could feel her strength returning, not only returning but increasing; this was the strength that had allowed her to move an entire train; this strength allowed to press down on Miló with even greater force, her enhanced might pushing against the tight-knit armour of the grimm.

The grimm began to moan as Pyrrha’s spear descended.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said through gritted teeth, as with her strengthened semblance, she lifted Crocea Mors from off the ground, plucked Soteria from out of its sheath on Sunset’s back, and hurled them both like javelins into the grimm on either side of Miló, pushing down with all three weapons, pressing them home, driving them beyond the armour and into the vulnerable flesh beneath.

The grimm was howling now, pricked with pain, but the green light of Sunset’s magic enveloped it, and now, Professor Goodwitch stood with her arm outstretched, and it seemed that, though she could not move the creature, she could hold it fast.

She could prevent it escaping as Pyrrha drove three blades into it until they were out of sight. She could no longer see them – they had disappeared beneath the bony plates – but she could still feel them, and with her semblance, she could move them inside the grimm’s body, turning them in circles, spinning them in arcs, slicing through whatever they found.

The grimm let out a low and almost mournful groan before its whole body and all its armour turned to ash.

Sunset summoned Soteria into her grip.

Pyrrha brought home not only Miló but Crocea Mors, which she presented to Jaune.

“I’m sorry for not asking permission,” she murmured.

“I’ll let it slide in an emergency,” he said lightly.

Sunset knelt by Ruby’s side. “Ruby, are you okay?”

Ruby coughed. “Yeah,” she gasped. “Mostly.”

Sunset nodded, patting her on the shoulder. “Jaune,” she said. “Do you have enough aura to take care of everyone?”

“Sure,” Jaune agreed. “I’ve got more than enough.”

“Good,” Sunset said. “Because I think we might be just getting started.”

Necropolis (Rewritten)

Necropolis

It was not the best reason; in fact, as reasons went, it was a lot worse than the fact that there was no way they could beat Atlas in a stand-up fight for finding this whole plan to be a complete nonsense, but Gilda would readily admit – at least to herself – that she just plain didn't like basing out of Mountain Glenn.

It was the world's largest tomb, and it gave her the creeps. And the fact that the creeps were giving them some space right now didn’t actually help her mood very much.

From what she understood, which wasn’t much, Vale had built two cities at Mountain Glenn: one up top on the surface and one below by building on all the caves that were already there to create a vast hollow under the surface that they could build a second Mountain Glenn inside. It made a kind of sense, she guessed, what with the subway tunnel that they'd built to bus everybody in and out of the city, but even in its prime, she wouldn't have wanted to live out her life here. She didn't want to be here now. It was airless, perpetually in darkness – and just because she had the eyes of a bird of prey and could see in the dark didn't mean that Gilda didn't like to see the sun, feel the warmth of it slapping her face on a hot day, feel the wind through her feathers. There could have been none of that here, even when this was a living, breathing – breathing stale air that had been trapped underground for too long, but still – city. And Gilda's discomfort was made worse by the feeling she had that the undercity would have been the place where all the faunus lived because they couldn't afford to live on the surface.

She was surprised that Atlas hadn't had the idea of doing that. It would be a big win for Robyn Hill: hey there, everyone, look how much more room there is in Mantle now! Pay no attention to the noises coming from the basement; that’s just the faunus in their caves.

The fact that there were some – and there absolutely were some, and Gilda would call a liar anyone who claimed there weren’t – who would say that this giant cavern was the proper place for the faunus only increased Gilda's discomfort with being here. They were not rats, to skulk in darkness, to crawl through tunnels and to hide in caves. They were men, with as much right to the sunlight and the blue sky and the wind on their faces as any human. Some of them might be born into darkness, but that didn't mean that they had to make their homes in it.

At the moment, Gilda was standing on top of what had been some kind of tower block not far from the commercial rail yard. Beneath her, she could see the Atlesian Paladins, their stolen wonder weapons that would in no way be enough to turn the tide against all of the existing wonder weapons that Atlas already had at its disposal, loading dust bombs onto the rear cars in preparation for the attack. She wasn't sure exactly when the attack would take place, but the word said that it would come soon: in the next few days, tomorrow, even today. Much sooner than originally planned. Cinder wanted to step up the timetable. She'd screwed up at Beacon, so now, the White Fang had to work harder to pick up the slack.

All around her, the lifeless crumbling city of the dead stretched as far as she could see, black stone towers rising out of the earth, climbing upwards out of the rock below to reach like so many desperate hands for the rock above. Streets that had once teamed with life now lingered silent and abandoned. Apartment blocks that had once housed hundreds of families now crumbled into dust like ants’ nests after the exterminator has paid a visit, their shattered windows staring out like the eyeless sockets of blind men with only darkness visible behind. Instead of the sounds of cars, trains, motorcycles, footfalls, conversations, instead of any of the sounds of life, there was only the dim humming of the elevators the White Fang had repaired and reactivated to get all of their gear down here, the sounds of rats scurrying around amidst the ruins, and the distant growling of the grimm who lurked on the outskirts of the under-city on the off-chance that any humans should return.

Gilda’s wings ruffled in the cold. Wasn’t it supposed to get warmer the further down you got? Then why was it so cold down here in this vast cavern? It was as if she could feel the breath of all the ghosts upon her feathers. Or perhaps it was just the foreboding that she felt, as enormous as the under-city itself, that felt like ice upon her skin.

She felt so cold. So cold and so filled with dread it was a wonder that she wasn’t attracting grimm.

Yet she was not. Nobody was. Gilda was standing on the roof of this tower as a sentinel, with the rifle that she had temporarily borrowed from Applejack in her hands – it was a really nice gun; it was going to be a real wrench to give it back, but give it back she would, or she would be just another thieving faunus – as she scanned the derelict deserted streets around her, but there was no sign of any grimm. They avoided the White Fang camp as assiduously as they avoided the old Merlot Industries complex – although what they were afraid of there, no one could say, certainly not the White Fang patrols who had been sent out to investigate but never returned; suffice to say that the White Fang also avoided the place and leave it at that.

That refusal of the grimm to trouble them in their base might be bad for the plan, considering that the whole point was that they were going to lure grimm into Vale once they busted a whole in the defences, but for right now, it was certainly good for all the vast numbers of White Fang that were mustering amongst the ruins. Prepping the train was hard enough without having to stop every five minutes to fight off grimm.

Perhaps that was why the creatures had stopped bothering them once she showed up. Perhaps they could tell that Cinder didn’t want her plans to be disturbed.

That woman… the dead city wasn’t the only thing giving Gilda the creeps.

She wondered if she’d been assigned watch up here to get her away from Applejack so that she couldn’t interfere with whatever Cinder had planned for the Atlesian huntress. She hoped not. Not that she trusted Cinder not to be so devious, but she still hoped that Adam was better than that. How much better, she wasn’t sure and wasn’t prepared to bet on, but… better.

He was still good enough that he had let Fluttershy go, for no reason and for absolutely nothing in return.

And that means he’ll keep Applejack alive for now.

I hope.

There was, of course, a difference that Adam had made quite clear: he had finally been won around to the idea that Fluttershy had no place in this war. Gilda would have been a little put out that it was the fact that Fluttershy liked birds that swung it rather than anything she’d said to him, but she was willing to take what she could get. Fluttershy was safe; that was what mattered.

Applejack was different… barrel of apples. Applejack was a huntress, and Adam had made it clear that a huntress was fair game.

Gilda could understand his reasoning, but that didn’t mean she liked it very much.

After what she had seen last night, Gilda almost found herself – and this was something she hadn’t thought that she’d ever admit to – hoping in Cinder. After all, Cinder, although she hadn’t seemed to like the idea of letting Fluttershy go, had gone along with it in the end, and she hadn’t even taken payment for it when she could have done. It seemed… it was almost like she had something to prove.

Gilda could relate to that. She had something to prove as well.

I still hate her guts, though.

One good deed didn’t make her forgiven, not by Gilda; Gilda wasn’t sure that she could ever forgive Cinder Fall for what she was about to do to the White Fang.

But perhaps she might not murder Applejack while Gilda wasn’t there.

She wasn’t there because someone had to keep watch, and it might as well be her. Protecting Applejack didn't excuse her from duty, after all.

But Gilda still would have rather been down there; apart from anything else, when she was down with Rainbow’s friends – Rainbow’s friend now, the other one having gone free – she didn’t feel quite so oppressed with dread.

Down below, as well as an absence of grimm, Gilda could see the White Fang hard at work preparing for their attack: Paladins picked up dust containers and bombs that would have taken many men to move if they could be moved at all; those with engineering training worked on the train; those without any training trained with their weapons under the direction of the more experienced fighters. Adam was everywhere, giving encouragement, exhorting to effort, his red sword held aloft above his head as a symbol of strength and of defiance both.

The White Fang prepared for its attack. Its glorious, forlorn, doomed attack. Watching the preparations going on down below, Gilda couldn’t escape the feeling that it was all going to end in terrible tragedy.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand. Fear would not let her sleep. It was her constant companion in this place, and it would not let slumber come anywhere near her skull. How she wished she could be out of here.

This place was made by those that are dead; let them keep it.

Gilda heard something, a scuffing sound behind her. She spun, the stolen rifle rising to her shoulder, but it turned out to be Strongheart, coming up onto the roof from inside the tower.

Gilda sighed as she lowered her gun. “You scared me there.”

“Who did you think it would be?” Strongheart asked plaintively. “There’s only us here.”

“For now maybe. For how long?”

“Huh?” Strongheart asked as she approached. “What are you talking about?”

Gilda frowned. “I’m not sure myself. But I… I’ve got this feeling, you know. Like something’s coming, and we’re not ready for it.”

Strongheart frowned. “One of the captives is gone, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Strongheart waited for a moment. Gilda didn’t say anything, so Strongheart demanded, “Did you let her go?”

Gilda snorted. “If I had, do you think I’d still be breathing?”

“That’s not an answer,” Strongheart insisted. “You saw Adam going in to the house where they’re being held, you followed him-”

“And what do you think, that I overpowered Adam?” Gilda asked. “That I let one of the prisoners go but left the other because I didn’t like her face?” She paused for a moment. “Adam let her go.”

Strongheart’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Yes,” Gilda insisted. “And that’s a good thing.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Gilda repeated. “Because she wasn’t a fighter, she wasn’t looking for trouble, she just had the bad luck to run into Cinder on the road, she wasn’t any part of this! Do you think Adam should have killed her instead?”

“My mother wasn’t part of this,” Strongheart whispered. “But the humans killed her anyway.”

Gilda winced. “I won’t defend that,” she said, “I can’t. But if we start killing every human we can kill, without worrying about whether they deserve to die or not, if we don’t… if we don’t discriminate, then where does it end?”

“In fire,” Strongheart whispered. She hesitated. “Why… why did Adam let her go?”

Because Adam used to like birds, Gilda thought. That sounded strange when said out loud, so she tried to put it a little better. “Because he found a spark of kindness in himself that the world hadn’t extinguished yet. Because he found that Fluttershy wasn’t so different from us, even if she is a human. Because… because he recognised that it was the right thing to do. He let her go, sent her back to her friends-”

“'Her friends'?” Strongheart repeated. “They’re here.”

“Somewhere up top, yeah,” Gilda acknowledged. “And Adam sent her back to them. Didn’t ask for anything in return. Not a thing.”

Strongheart was silent for a moment. “So… what you’re saying is that we’ve been nicer than our enemy has ever been to us, but we’ve got nothing to show for it?”

Gilda snorted. “Sounds about our lot in life, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be what we’re fighting against?”

“We’re fighting for Cinder Fall now, whatever that means,” Gilda replied.

“Adam-”

“She has Adam right where she wants him; he just doesn’t see it,” Gilda insisted. “Just like he didn’t see Blake losing faith until it was too late.”

“Blake betrayed us!” Strongheart snapped.

“That’s my point: Adam didn’t see it coming; even though he was closer to Blake than anyone, he had no idea what she was thinking.”

“Adam’s our leader,” Strongheart declared. “He knows what he’s doing; we need to trust him!”

“We don’t need to follow him off a cliff, and he has no right to ask it!” Gilda snapped. “And she certainly doesn’t.” She rested her borrowed rifle on her shoulder. “Adam… Adam’s a good leader. I still believe that. He’s our lord of war. Bravest guy I’ve ever seen. But if he goes up against Ironwood head to head, Ironwood will crush him, and us with him.” She frowned. “And I think Cinder knows that. Maybe she’s even counting on it. I don’t know what her plan is, but it isn’t for us to overthrow Vale. Do you really want to die?”

Strongheart hesitated. She trembled, either from fear or from the cold. “No,” she admitted. “But I will if I have to, for the White Fang and the faunus. Like my father did.”

“We help the faunus and the White Fang more by living to fight another day,” Gilda muttered. She turned away from Strongheart for a moment and wandered to the very edge of the building.

Strongheart joined her, or almost joined her. Conscious of the fact that she didn’t have wings, she didn’t risk a fall in quite the same way. “Why did you protect those humans? They’re… they’re human.”

“They are,” Gilda agreed. “But they can’t make me the bad guy. Only I can do that.”

“They wouldn’t protect you if you were their prisoner.”

“That’s what makes them the bad guys instead of me,” Gilda said.

Strongheart shook her head. “I don’t get it. Adam… Adam hasn’t led us wrong yet. Blake betrayed him, but that’s her fault, not his; she was so… she had everybody fooled, she fooled me, how was he supposed to not be fooled by her when he loved her the most of anyone in the whole world? This is the right thing we’re doing here.”

“Because he says so?”

“Because we have to do something!” Strongheart cried. “We’re all fighting desperately to protect the things that we care about, but what good is fighting to protect when our feelings are the only weapons we have? So what if Cinder’s weird and creepy? She’s got the power that we need and Adam knows it. He knows it just like he knows the way to victory for us. I’m willing to fight, even if it is dangerous, even if I die; we’re all willing to give our lives for freedom. Are you?”

Gilda rounded on her. “I have scars from when my aura broke, but I kept fighting. Against Atlas, against the Schnees, against all of them. I’m not a coward.”

“Then why-?”

“Because I wouldn’t give a single life for a pointless victory, and certainly not for a glorious defeat,” Gilda said. She sighed. “I want to trust Adam. I want to put my faith in him and in his vision. I want to believe that he’s the best of us, the greatest faunus, the one who’s going to lead us to the land of milk and honey. I want to trust Adam. But I can’t trust her. And while she has her claws in him, that means that I can’t trust him either. And this place… we should have left this place to the ghosts.”

Strongheart fell momentarily silent. “So what happens now? If the enemy is here, does that mean they’re going to come down after us?”

Before Gilda could answer, Strongheart was answered instead by a fusillade of shots echoing across Mountain Glenn, breaking the silence that prevailed within the city of the dead.

“I think that’s them now,” Gilda declared. “And they don’t sound too pleased to be here.”

“Well, this place looks nice,” Sunset said as she strode into New Street Station, her boots crunching on the broken glass beneath her feet. “Very hypermodern.” She wasn’t actually a fan of the style – she preferred classical architecture – but this was hardly the place for truthful opinions about construction styles. Rather, this was the time to show that, in spite of their difficulties on the way here, she was completely refreshed, with not only her aura restored – courtesy of Jaune – but her good humour as well.

“That being said,” she went on, “I’m not sure that I’d recommend a visit. It’s practically the only thing in this city that’s not a dump. It just isn’t worth coming here.”

Rainbow Dash smirked as she peeled herself off the wall and walked across the empty concourse towards them. “We were wondering when you’d decide to show up, weren’t we, Blake?”

Blake rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Sunset vaulted over the ticket barriers. “We might have been here sooner if your directions were better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that the safe route was a little…” Rainbow trailed off for a moment. She walked towards Sunset, leaning forward. “What’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Circuitous,” Sunset whispered.

“Thanks,” hissed Rainbow, before she raised her voice, “I’m sorry that the safe route was too circuitous for you.” She folded her arms. “Blake and I actually had to work to get here.”

“Oh, you think we were just strolling along, do you?” Sunset asked. “Let me tell you something, because you didn’t clear the route properly, we still had to fight our way through.”

Rainbow was silent for a couple of seconds. “Was this after they started jamming communications?”

“You know about that?”

“Of course we know about that,” Rainbow said sharply. “I mean, not that Twilight’s drones were going to be of much use underground, but…”

“Is there a point,” Pyrrha inquired politely, “at which Team Tsunami will come to aid us, if we send no word?”

“By now, they’ll have reported the loss of contact to General Ironwood,” Rainbow replied after a fashion. “But without a request from us or an order from the General, they won’t undertake a rescue mission.” She paused. “Not for another few hours, anyway.”

Professor Goodwitch arched one eyebrow. “Meaning, Miss Dash?”

Rainbow managed to muster a slight grin. “Meaning… if I know Trixie, when it eventually comes down to a choice between sitting on her hands and doing something, she’ll do something. Just as soon as she’s talked herself round to the idea.”

“Really?” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “And the rest of her team will go along with this?”

“Starlight will agree it’s the right thing to do, Sunburst will go along with them, and Tempest will huff and puff, but she won’t actually try to stop them,” Rainbow explained. “You know, I don’t think they’re actually going to join the military when they graduate.”

“No?” Sunset asked. “What are they going to do instead, join the Happy Huntresses?”

“Nah,” Rainbow replied. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if you heard about a group called the Great and Powerful Huntresses running around making noise in Atlas in a few years’ time. In a legal way. Mostly.”

“Is that a fact, Miss Dash?” Professor Goodwitch said softly. “That’s certainly interesting to know.”

Rainbow glanced at Sunset.

Sunset shrugged. “Maybe she’s thinking they made the wrong choice.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying,” said Sunset.

Rainbow snorted. “So, what kind of trouble did you run into?”

“A unique kind of grimm,” Sunset said. “Like an ursa, but worse. A lot worse. It was so well-armoured as to be almost impregnable, could move silently on top of that, and it could extend its neck out and let it swing around like a snake.”

“We ran into some chills,” Rainbow said flatly.

Sunset stared at her. “Okay, that is worse,” she admitted.

“And there may be more,” Blake declared, stepping away from the wall against which she had been leaning. “After all, Mountain Glenn is the perfect home for them.” She hesitated.

“Blake,” Rainbow said. “You don’t have to-”

“Yes,” Blake said. “I do, this is important.” She closed her eyes and looked down at her feet for a moment. “A chill… it possessed me.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. Blake… Blake had been possessed? A chill had gotten Blake? Blake, they had almost lost Blake? She rounded on Rainbow Dash. “And you let this happen?”

“Sunset-” Blake began.

Sunset ignored her, jabbing a finger into Rainbow’s face. “This is the last time that I leave Blake alone with you, how could you-?”

“Sunset Shimmer!” Pyrrha’s voice was stern and unexpectedly loud; it sliced through Sunset’s shouting like her Miló sliced through most grimm. Her eyes were hard as steel; just looking at them was enough to make Sunset’s ears wilt. “I hardly think,” she continued, in a voice that was clipped with anger, “that Blake needs you to turn this into some kind of competition about who cares more about her. Shame on you.”

Sunset took a step backwards. Her throat felt very dry, as though a sudden heatwave had begun. “I-”

“Everyone here cares about Blake,” Pyrrha said, her voice quieter now but not much softer, as she crossed the concourse to where Blake stood. Only then, as Pyrrha put her arms around Blake’s shoulders, did her voice soften. “How are you?”

“I’m fine now, Pyrrha, really,” Blake murmured.

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked. “Because if not-”

“I’m fine,” Blake insisted.

“How are you fine?” Penny asked. “Chill possession is supposed to be irreversible. Even when the chill leaves the victim’s body, it… it kills the victim.”

“That’s not true,” Ruby replied. “Uncle Qrow says that you can save the victim once the chill has gone if you have the proper tools.”

“It turns out you can also… exorcise the chill, for want of a better word,” Blake said, “with a concentrated pulse of aura applied to the victim, as though you were-”

“Unlocking their aura for the first time,” Jaune finished.

Blake looked at him. “Exactly. It’s how Rainbow was able to drive it out of me. And if anyone else is possessed-”

“We can save one another the same way,” Pyrrha said. “That… that’s quite ingenious, Rainbow Dash; how did you devise such a strategy?”

“Uh… I didn’t,” Rainbow said.

“I do not remember this method being taught at Atlas,” Ciel pointed out.

“No, it’s not,” Rainbow admitted.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “So where did it come from?”

“You don’t want to know,” Rainbow replied.

Jaune frowned. “Wasn’t that in Daring Do and the Adventure of the Azure Amulet?”

“You read Daring Do as well?”

“Of course!” Jaune cried. “Who doesn’t?”

“Those of us who missed that reference, apparently,” Ciel declared. “Rainbow Dash, you hazarded Blake’s safe recovery on a method suggested by a-”

“It worked,” Blake pointed out. “Here I am, still me: Blake. That being the case, I’m not inclined to look too closely at the means of my salvation. Just so long as we now know how we can save each other, if we need to.”

“But let’s all try and avoid getting possessed, if we can,” Sunset said. “A. K. Yearling may have done her research, but I’d rather we didn’t have to go around sort-of unlocking one another’s auras.”

“Indeed,” Professor Goodwitch concurred. “That being said… Miss Dash, that was good, quick thinking on your part. Many huntsmen would have allowed the… dubious origin of such a method to sour them on the attempt. You were willing to take a chance, and because of that, you saved a comrade. I imagine James will be quite impressed.”

Rainbow’s back stiffened. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Is that the way down?” Sunset asked, gesturing to the hole in the wall which opened into a void of gaping blackness.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Rainbow said.

Sunset approached, followed by the others. “A lot of steps,” she said, glancing at the sign.

“Uh huh,” Rainbow agreed.

“Come with me,” Sunset said, drawing Rainbow off from the rest of the group, putting one hand around her shoulder to steer her closer to the emergency stairwell. “Have you had a look down there?”

“I’ve taken a look, but even with my goggles on, I couldn’t see much. We agreed not to go down there until everyone made it here.”

“I know,” Sunset said. She paused. “Thank you, for saving Blake.”

“I’ll always save Blake,” Rainbow said.

Sunset grinned. “And I’m sorry for the way I acted before. You know… it’s stuff like this that is why her ex wants to murder us both.”

Rainbow chuckled. “I can live with that.”

“I’d rather he didn’t,” Sunset muttered.

Sunset let her hand fall from Rainbow’s shoulder and stared into the dark void. Adam was waiting down there, with his terrible red sword. Cinder was waiting down there, with her smiles and her cruel words and her pain and all her many schemes. The host of the White Fang was waiting down there, and a greater host of grimm besides. Everything was waiting down in the darkness. Everything they had come to fight, everything that desired to fight them, glory and good fortune, death and infamy, they were all waiting down below.

Destiny was waiting for them down those stairs.

Now is the moment to stride to our glory and to our destiny.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet, Sunset did not wish to stride, not now. She was overcome by a sudden sense of dread that chilled her spine, that froze her feet, that set her whole body trembling.

If she descended into the darkness, she would find her fate, and it would be an ill-fate.

All her pride, all her bravado, it was stripped away from her in that moment, blown away by the chill wind that seemed to issue up from out of the dark.

This was no place for her. It was made by those who were dead, and the dead kept it.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked softly. “Is everything alright?”

Sunset looked at her, she forced herself to look at her, and the sight of Pyrrha’s fair face, her gleaming armour, the sight of her in all her glory drove away the momentary affliction that had stricken Sunset so.

She could not turn away. Everyone was counting on her. More to the point, they would not turn away, and she would not forsake them.

Now is the moment to stride to our glory and to our destiny.

“I’m fine,” Sunset lied. “But I am also going first down the steps, because it’s a deep dark hole, and I have a duty of care. And I will brook no argument in this.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment as she stared into Sunset’s eyes. “Then you shall receive none,” she promised.

“Then with you behind me, I shall walk without fear,” Sunset declared. That was another lie, but it sounded very grand.

The others stacked up behind her. It was the order that they had been before, except that Sunset was in the lead with Pyrrha behind her. Rainbow and Blake were left to take up positions at the rear.

After dealing with chills, Sunset was inclined to say they’d earned a break at the back.

Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, switched on the flashlight she had tapped to the barrel – to the side of the barrel; hopefully, it wouldn’t obstruct the movement of the bayonet – and cast a nightvision spell on her eyes.

The world turned green before her, and she could see a little into the blackness of the staircase.

She could not see much, but what she could see was happily devoid of peril.

Sunset took her first step, then another, then another, descending the stairs into the dark. And teams SAPR and RSPT – and Blake and Professor Goodwitch – followed her until they passed out of mortal sight.

It was not the stairs that really bothered Sunset. Yes, there were a lot of stairs, and it took some time to descend them all, but she could handle stairs. Canterlot had been a city of stairs, built as it was into the side of the mountain with no elevators of the sort that people in Remnant took for granted. No, she could handle stairs; she wasn’t some cloistered scholar who only walked from one bookshelf to the next, after all.

No, it was not the stairs; it was the dark. If she had been walking up stairs that wound about the side of a mountain, or even going the other way, with the sun on her face and the wind kissing her cheeks, blowing through her hair, then she would have borne it without complaint.

But they were not rising, and there was no sun. They were descending, descending deeper and deeper into darkness, and the more steps they climbed down, the less light reached them from the sunlit station above, until they were plunged into complete darkness, with only the light of Sunset’s torch to light the way and only what her magical eyes could show her else.

The dark pressed all around her, cloying, grasping, and worse than that, enshrouding; Sunset found herself reaching for the walls every so often to check that they were still there. There were times when she imagined that she might step into a void, a nothingness, with neither stair to bear her nor indeed anything for her to fall into.

She, and all her friends, had been consumed by darkness, descending towards a thing they could not see, leaving all light and hope behind.

The only sound in the whole world were their footsteps on the endless stair, echoing into the nothingness.

Then Rainbow Dash started to sing.

“Somewhere’s a book,

With chapters still blank insi-i-ide,”

“Tell me she’s not,” Sunset muttered.

“It’s the book of our lives,

And the story is ours to write.”

“It would appear that she is,” Ciel murmured.

“Ours to write,” Penny added.

“How do you even know these lyrics?” Ciel demanded.

“I thought that was obvious,” Penny replied. “Didn’t you?”

Rainbow went on, her voice echoing through the darkness, in some ways seeming almost to drive back the darkness. “Some pages fade,

While others are black-”

“And whi-i-ite,” Penny finished the line for her.

“And the story begins,

Again every time we try,” Rainbow sang.

“Every time we try!” trilled Penny.

“Come on,” Rainbow cried, “you can guess the words!”

Sunset rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, a smile pricked at the corners of her mouth as she took a less than literal stab in the dark.

“And hope shines eternal,

“And friends are all I need.”

“All I need,” Blake’s voice was soft, but as clear as a bell.

“And hope,” Rainbow joined Sunset for this line, “shines eternal.”

“Shines eternal,” Blake and Penny echoed.

“And the future is always bri-i-ight,” Sunset sang.

“When you’re here with me.”

“Yeah!” Rainbow cried. “Take it away, Blake.”

There was a pause, before Blake did indeed take it away with a voice like syrup being poured over pancakes.

“I’ve fought the darkness

And come out the other side.”

“Other side,” Sunset and Rainbow chorused.

Rainbow picked it up. “For the rainclouds will clear,

The way for the-”

“Sunny sky,” Sunset and Blake chorused.

Sunset could hear Pyrrha taking a breath behind her. Her voice, when it came, was untrained and wobbled a little on the notes, but the fact that it was Pyrrha’s voice meant that it couldn’t have sounded bad even if she’d wanted it to. “I’ve been afraid,

And stayed through the longest-”

“Ni-i-ight.” This time everyone, even Ciel, everyone except Professor Goodwitch who probably thought that they’d all lost it, took up the song, individual voices lost in a more or less harmonious melody.

Jaune’s voice broke out from the others, and Sunset would have almost believed that he did have training, the way that he was hitting every single note pitch perfectly. “But morning still comes,

And with it, it brings a light.”

“Yeah, it brings a light,” Rainbow’s voice rang out.

“And hope shines eternal.” Once again, all voices joined together, chasing away shadow and fear both at once.

“And friends are all I need.”

“Yeah, they’re all I need!” Sunset declared.

“And hope shines eternal,

And the future is always bri-i-ight,

The future is always bri-i-ight,

Yeah, the future is always bri-i-i-ight,

When you’re here with me.”

They dissolved into laughter, all of them, and somehow, the stairs no longer seemed so dark any more.

“Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said, “I do wonder what they are teaching you at Atlas Academy.”

Rainbow laughed. “Don’t worry, Professor; I learned that one from my friends.”

“The risk that anyone might have heard us,” Sunset said, “is a lot less than the risk that… that I wouldn’t have been in a fit state to do anything by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs. Thanks, Rainbow, I needed that.”

And indeed, she was able to descend the rest of the way with a lighter heart by far, armed and well-prepared for whatever awaited them.

They reached the bottom of the stairs to find themselves in another concourse, darker – obviously – and more grimly functional than the one that they had left behind. The concourse above, with its glass skylight and stores on the upper balcony level, had possessed pretensions to be something more than just a train station, to be a place that could be enjoyed and, on some level, appreciated. This place, with concrete columns holding up the ceiling and grey concrete beneath the feet, seemed to aspire to be nothing more than a place people passed through on the way to catch their train.

That being said, as Sunset flashed her torch around, she could see a couple of modest coffee stores and a first class lounge for if you really couldn’t bear to mingle with the commoners – and who could blame you if you didn’t? There was also a sign to ‘Exit this way for Lower Levels and Nightmarket.’

“Why do you they call it Nightmarket?” Penny wondered aloud.

“Probably because it is dark,” Ciel replied. “Not very imaginative.”

“It’s a little more imaginative than calling it ‘underground market,’ right?” Jaune asked.

They followed the signs, leaving the subway station behind as they emerged into the Nightmarket itself. A host of stores spread out before them: media stores, candy stores, newsagents, toy stores, cards and wrapping paper stores, bookshops, pharmacists, beauticians; the map of the mall on the wall near where they came in proclaimed that there were two movie theatres in here, and supermarkets both budget and high-class, along with cafes, restaurants, and even dust and arms dealers.

If there was anything left in those last places after the White Fang had been here for a while, Sunset would be very surprised.

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on the map. “If I remember the blueprints of the city correctly, if we head out through the west exit, then we’ll have a straight shot to the rail yard.”

“A direct route? Doesn’t that mean we’ll be spotted?” Blake asked.

“Not necessarily,” Sunset replied. “And if we try and take an indirect route, we might get lost in this place.”

“True,” Blake murmured.

“We’ll just have to watch out and avoid any patrols or guard posts,” Sunset said. “We can take short detours if we have to, but following the straight line is our best shot.”

Nobody demurred with that, and so, the group moved through the abandoned shopping centre, disturbing the long-settled dust with their footsteps.

There were no dead bodies here; at least, there were none that Sunset could see. Perhaps, when the undercity fell, things had been a little less panicked. Or perhaps there had simply been time to flee from the shops to die elsewhere.

She was very glad that they would not have to move down the tunnel which had connected Mountain Glenn to Vale; she could only imagine how many lost souls waited there, banging their hands upon the barrier, pleading for salvation.

Her whole body shuddered at the thought.

There were no dead here, though, only empty shops, doors still open, barriers still raised, all looking as if they were open for business, the cashiers and assistants having simply all stepped away on a break for a moment. The must-have toy sat piled in a central display in the toy store, the latest bestseller sat proud in the bookshop window, all the passing trivialities which nevertheless added up to a picture of a society extinguished, gone in a sudden flash, erased and yet left standing all the same, as though some god had simply annihilated all human life yet left all things nonhuman to stand in testament to their follies and their pride.

It was a little better than dead bodies, but that did not make it good to look upon.

There was no sign of any grimm here – until they reached the western exit, the doors they hoped to use to enter the city proper, and found a reasonably sized pack of beowolves lurking about as if on guard, rustling amongst the debris, growling and prowling but never straying far from the doors.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence,” Sunset muttered.

“You think they’re here to guard the doors?” Blake asked.

“I think,” Sunset said, raising Sol Invictus to her shoulder, “that someone wants us to make some noise.”

One or two of the beowolves raised their heads towards the group, snarling at them, signalling the rest of the pack.

Pyrrha formed Miló into rifle mode. “It seems that we have little choice but to oblige.”

Rainbow Dash slung her shotgun over her back and drew her machine pistols. “Okay, let’s kick these doors in and get this party started.”

The beowolves charged.

They were met with fire and death.

Now all of Mountain Glenn would know they were here.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The big change here is that the descent by air is replaced by a descent via staircase, and also that Gilda and Strongheart's conversation changes to account for Adam's recent behaviour.

The Voice of Salem (Rewritten)

The Voice of Salem

The Valish have sealed off the tunnels.

We cannot escape that way.

We have attempted to fortify the streets, but we cannot hold them for long. The grimm are too many – and too strong. The shadow we awakened approaches, and we have no way of withstanding it. On that, the huntsmen – those that yet live – all agree.

Even Professor Ozpin would stand little chance against it, they say, and he is not here.

If we remain, then we will die. Yes, the tunnel to Vale is sealed off, but it is not the only way to Vale. The journey will be difficult, and no doubt fraught with peril, but tomorrow, we will begin evacuating the population out through the emergency exits out of the tunnel. Those closest to Vale have been sealed already, but there are those further away. Once we are out, then we will march the remaining distance to Vale overland.

As I mentioned, it will be difficult and perilous, but it is the only choice we have.

To whomever reads this account, if you have found this and it is the last entry, then it means that I did not reach Vale.

If you have found this, then it means that we are gone.

Dead and gone.

Cinder guessed, from the fact that this account had been found in the ruins of Mountain Glenn’s underground, that Crozier and his band of survivors had not even gotten so far as to emerge, blinking, into the sunlight via the emergency exits. Evidently, the grimm had moved more swiftly than he had been expecting, had broken through the defences more easily than he had feared they would, laid him and his people to waste before they could make their escape.

And thus, the final damnation, the final nemesis for their act of grave hubris. For was it not ironic that he who had complained of the hubris of his superior had, in the end, been just as foolish in believing that the grimm would allow him to escape?

Cinder heard the shots, shattering the peace of this cold, dead place.

Speaking of acts of hubris: hello, Sunset, you’re… just a little early.

Cinder slammed the book shut, and deposited it on the bar upon which she had been sitting. She had read all that she cared to; she had no more need of it now. Perhaps, in days to come, if anyone else was ever bold enough to venture here, they too would find Crozier’s account.

She hoped that they got as much out of it as she had.

So much that she had not known about this city, so much that she had only dimly felt but not had explained to her. Why, without that journal, she might never have known about all the extraordinary grimm that she had at her disposal.

She was saving the best for last, of course; she would not waste the shadow that had brought down Mountain Glenn to delay SAPR and RSPT, not least because it might actually have killed them, and she didn’t want that.

No, that particular surprise was for Vale itself.

All the grimm were now for Vale itself.

Cinder strode out of her lair to find Emerald, Mercury, and Lightning Dust all awaiting her pleasure. Lightning was putting on her somewhat cumbersome dust delivery system; Mercury and Emerald, less encumbered, were already armed and looking well-prepared.

“It’s them,” Mercury said, “isn’t it?”

Cinder smiled at him. “It is. Just as planned, they have come. And we will go to meet them, to buy time until our preparations are complete.”

“Finally,” Lightning growled. “Some real action.”

“Don’t underestimate our enemies,” Cinder instructed them. As I have done once already, to my cost. “They are powerful, and what they lack in wit, they make up for in courage. But I have chosen you, all three of you, not only for your particular talents, but also for your spirits. You have it in your hearts to set this world ablaze and watch as the fire consumes all that has offered you nothing.

“What we do today will be the spark that will become a raging inferno that will devour Vale and spread to all the other kingdoms of the world.

“So come, quickly; destiny awaits us all.” Cinder smirked. “And besides, our dear friends have come such a very long way to see us again. It would be unforgivable to keep them waiting too long.”

Gilda landed heavily on the ground, tucking her wings in behind her. The gunfire had ceased, but the railway yard was awash with activity, even more than it had been before the shooting started. The faunus of the White Fang were running this way and that, moving like ants after the nest is kicked, swarming around the train, ducking beneath the paladins and dodging their heavy footsteps.

Adam stepped out in front of her, “They’ve arrived,” he said. “Blake and her… new friends. They’ve come down into the underworld.” He paused, his expression stern. “Does that please you?”

Gilda scowled. “What kind of a question is that?”

Adam snorted. “There are times when I wonder who’s side you're on, these days.”

“I’m on the side of our people,” Gilda said.

“There are times when I doubt that,” Adam growled. “I understand now why you sought to protect the humans, but the rest? Carping, complaining, spreading doubt to me and anyone else who’ll listen to you-”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if I could get you to doubt just a little bit!” Gilda shouted. “This whole crazy plan is going to get us all killed; why can’t you see that?”

“What makes you think I can’t?” Adam asked.

Gilda gasped. Her eyes widened. For a moment, she was robbed of all speech; all the words that she might have said flew wordlessly out of her mouth unvoiced, even as that mouth opened and closed in silent shocked dismay. “You… I… what the hell?”

Adam took a step back, which was a good thing, as she might have taken a swing at him otherwise. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asked as he turned away from her. “Do you think that I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other end of that tunnel? Do you think that I don’t realise how many brave fighters are going to die when we enter the city?”

Gilda’s mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking. Her head was awhirl with dizziness; she felt as though she might collapse at any moment. Sweat had come from out of nowhere in this cold place to make her black outfit stick to her skin. Her body armour and her weapons felt heavier than usual. “If you know all this… then why are-?”

“Because our old tactics aren’t working,” Adam said. “They don’t accomplish anything, not on the scale we need. We need to be bigger, bolder-”

“We need to commit suicide?”

“Because Cinder has a plan,” Adam said. “A plan that will set all of Vale on fire, but first, it needs a spark. And yes, that spark will be our blood, but face it, Gilda: we could fight for twenty years and spend just as many lives over that time, and it still wouldn’t accomplish as much as Cinder’s plans for Vale. She’s going to change the world, and because of our assistance, there will be a place for our people in the new order. Isn’t that worth fighting for? Isn’t that worth dying for?”

“Only if it’s a choice,” Gilda said. “Does everyone know that they’re going to their deaths? I don’t think so.”

“All of them are ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to achieve victory,” Adam said. “The final victory and an end to our war.”

“And who will be left to celebrate the end of the war?” Gilda demanded. “If we sacrifice the whole Vale chapter to bring down Vale, then what? Will the Mistral chapter have to wipe itself out to destroy Mistral, then Atlas, then Vacuo? Are the only ones left going to be the ones smart enough to retire to Menagerie and sit the fighting out?”

“Of course not,” Adam said derisively. “When Vale falls – and it will fall – then a chain reaction will commence that will consume the world.”

“But-”

“Enough,” Adam said. “The time for discussion has passed. The enemy has come.”

Right, Gilda thought. She was glad that Adam hadn’t actually noticed – or hadn’t cared enough to point out – the fact that she hadn’t really answered his question about whether she was glad or not. She wasn’t glad, at least not in the sense that she wanted to face off against Rainbow Dash again. But, on the other hand, it was a way out for Applejack, and she… well, she was kind of glad about that.

I miss the days when we were the good guys. “What are we going to do?”

“Cinder agrees that we can’t wait any longer,” Adam said. “I’ve ordered Noah to get the train loaded up as it stands and begin the operation.”

“Cinder agrees, or Cinder told you?”

“Gilda!” Adam snapped. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Let me give you a piece of advice. When you command the Vale chapter, as you probably will, command it. Don’t take the amount of crap from others that you’ve given me.”

Gilda stared, eyes boggling a little as she tried to process just what he’d said to her. “When I… command?”

“There is no room on the martyr’s path for a coward,” Adam declared. “But there is room in the White Fang for someone who cares about the lives of our warriors. You’re not getting on the train, Gilda. Take Strongheart, and anyone and anything left after the train departs, and get them out of Mountain Glenn before Atlesian reinforcements arrive. And leave Applejack exactly where she is. Their human friends will come to collect them soon enough.”

Strongheart. She might not be able to save everyone, she wasn’t able to save half of the people she wanted to, but at least she would be able to save Strongheart. “Boss, I… thank you, for sparing the kid.”

Adam snorted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, come on, I already know that you’ve got a heart. The ship sailed on me not realising that when you spared Fluttershy. “What about you, boss? Are you getting on the train?”

“No,” Adam said. “I’m going to give Noah as much time to prep and start the train as I can.”

“Alone?”

“Cinder’s people will be doing what they can; I’ll join them,” Adam said. “Our fighters have already demonstrated they’re no match for these huntresses, but I… I might stand a chance.” He drew his red sword, shining in the darkness. “And besides, I’m the only one who can set Blake free. After all that we’ve shared, I owe her that.”

If that’s what you call freedom, then no wonder you can order this mission so easily.

Blake, do you have any idea what a number you did on him by walking away like you did? Would you even care if you did know?

“You think that you’ll walk back after that?” Gilda asked quietly, though this was a question to which she thought she could guess the answer. Adam was their lord of war, the mightiest warrior the White Fang possessed, their champion in the field against all enemies, but the enemy had champions of their own, and it seemed like a few of them had come to Mountain Glenn. Yes, Adam had gotten stronger since his earlier battles against Blake’s new friends, but even so…

“So long as I free Blake and take another one or two of them with me,” Adam declared, “it doesn’t really matter if I come back or not.”

“The hell it doesn’t, we need you!” Gilda yelled. “You’re our captain, the Sword of our people! You can’t just throw that away because… we need you. Is Cinder getting on the train?” It was another question to which she thought that she could guess the answer.

Adam was silent for a moment. “We were never meant to be friends, Gilda, but I have always admired your passion, your zeal, your commitment to help our people. The things I thought I saw in Blake, but in you, I think that I am not deceived as I was then. Perhaps, in another life… we each have our parts to play, Gilda; we each have our duties to perform. We should give them our best. There can be no argument between us there, I hope.”

“N-no, boss,” Gilda murmured, suddenly at a loss for words. That was something which hadn’t happened recently, not when she was talking with Adam, anyway. She… she felt as though she ought to say something, to do something, let him know…

Adam was right; they hadn’t been friends. Most of the time, he scared her. Quite often recently, he had exasperated her. Honestly, Gilda had often wished that Sienna had named Blake to command the chapter, instead of yielding to the preference of the rank and file for Adam.

They hadn’t been friends, but he had been her captain, and he had been their inspiration.

Their light of hope, and now, that hope was about to go into the darkness, never to shine again.

And she didn’t know what to say.

And he was already walking away, his crimson blade like a lantern warding off the shadows of Mountain Glenn.

“Good luck,” Gilda said softly, though whether she was wishing him luck or Blake luck or something else altogether – she might even have been wishing Rainbow Dash luck – she really couldn’t have said.

Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t Blake have stuck around with Adam and helped him get back to being a better person, the way he was before? Why did she have to walk away? Why did Dashie have to be on the wrong side? Why couldn’t she see that the faunus would never be allowed to stand tall in more than token numbers unless they took the right by force? Why did Cinder have to show up and trouble them with her schemes in which the White Fang were merely playthings to be used and discarded?

Why couldn’t everything be the way she wanted it, huh? She would have been fine with fighting a hopeless guerrilla war provided she had her best friend by her side and a pair of leaders she could look up to.

The door at the base of the tower block on which Gilda and Strongheart had been standing when they heard Rainbow and Blake arrived opened as Strongheart – who, lacking wings, had been forced to take the long way down – emerged into the street. She looked left and right. Adam had already passed out of sight.

Probably passed out of sight for the last time.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Gilda didn’t reply. She gazed after Adam, even though she couldn’t see him anymore, she still gazed that way as though she might catch a distant glimpse of him, as though his semblance might suddenly light up the dark and reveal him in all his terrible glory, one last time.

It didn’t. She saw nothing. Nothing but the darkness.

“Gilda!” Strongheart cried, finally attracting Gilda’s attention. “What’s going on, is it-?”

“Yes,” Gilda replied. “Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. Blake’s come for us, and she’s brought her friends with her.”

Strongheart’s eyes darkened with anger. “She shouldn’t have come. I’ll-”

“You’ll do nothing!” Gilda snapped. “Adam’s gone to take care of it himself.”

“Alone?” Strongheart said. “That’s-”

“His choice,” Gilda said. “The train is being prepped and loaded, Adam’s gone to make sure that there is time to complete that work before Blake can stop it; I’m to lead everyone who doesn’t have a place on the train and all of the remaining equipment out of Mountain Glenn. And you’re to come with me.”

The anger in Strongheart’s eyes was joined by and mixed with confusion tinged with sorrow. “I… I’m not joining the attack? But I thought that… why not? I can fight, I’m not just some kid!”

“But you are a kid,” Gilda said. “And so you’re coming with me, and we’re getting out of here.” Along with the rest of the lucky ones.

She was tempted, she was so very sorely tempted, to tell everybody that Adam had changed his mind, the attack was off, get off the train and out of Mountain Glenn, but… this had been Adam’s last command, it might even be said to be his dying wish, and as much as Gilda disagreed with it, as much as she hated it, she didn’t have it in her to countermand that.

Strongheart glared at her, and for a moment, Gilda was worried that she might defy her – after all, she had no proof of Adam’s orders now that he’d gone, only her word. But thankfully, Strongheart did not defy her. Though she still looked resentful, she nodded her head. “So what are we going to do?”

“What Adam told us to do,” Gilda said. “We’re going to save as much as we can. I want you to start spreading the word amongst the men: Adam has taken the glory road; I’m in command now. I’ll join you in just a moment.”

“Where are you-?” Strongheart stopped. Her face fell. “The Atlesian.”

“Adam told me to leave her where she was,” Gilda said. “And I’m not going to cut her loose to join her friends in fighting Adam. But she deserves to have her gun back, or at least put where she can get it.”

Strongheart stared up at her. “I don’t get you, sometimes.”

“You will, I hope,” Gilda replied. “Now go on, spread the word.”

Strongheart hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Alright, I will.”

As she darted off, joining the mass of White Fang running this way and that, Gilda had no fear that she would get on the train anyway. Strongheart might have been a little too keen on vengeance against any human she could get her hands on – who could blame her, really, when you considered what had happened to her? – but she was a good kid, overall. She wouldn’t say she was going to do one thing and then do another.

She had promised to obey Gilda, and she would.

Gilda turned away, moving quickly – she didn’t have very long – towards the house where Applejack was being held.

She forced open the door and strode quickly inside.

Applejack looked up at her. “Ah thought Ah heard shootin’ just then,” she said softly.

“You did,” Gilda replied. “Rainbow Dash and her friends have come to get you.”

Applejack watched her. She didn’t take her eyes off Gilda. They were wary eyes, like an animal caught in a snare. “Is that a fact,” she murmured. “And what are y’all gonna do to me before she gets here?”

“Nothing!” Gilda exclaimed. “Gods, don’t you trust me yet?”

“It ain’t you that I don’t trust,” Applejack muttered.

Gilda snorted. “Adam’s last instructions were to leave you here. Cinder didn’t bother to leave any instructions. It seems you’re just not worth caring about now that-”

“Now that Ah’ve served mah purpose and lured mah best friend here to die?” Applejack suggested acidly.

Gilda said nothing as she put Applejack’s rifle down by the door. “For what it’s worth,” she said. “I wouldn’t bet against Rainbow Dash.”

“Neither would I,” Applejack declared. “Doesn’t mean I much like bein’ in this position.”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Gilda allowed. She paused. “Anyway, your gun is right there, and I’ve let your dog run free so… I don’t know, you can whistle for her or something. And for what it’s worth, I hope you make it out of here.” She turned to the door. “See you in hell, Atlas thug.”

Applejack snorted. “See you in hell, White Fang scum.”

The undercity was like a hive, a creation more befitting giant ants than men, a great burrow carved out of the rock and stone to dwell in. Sunset had expected… she wasn’t sure quite what she’d expected; the phrase ‘underground city’ conjured up all sorts of wild imaginings: a mine, a network of barren tunnel criss-crossing one another like the caverns under Canterlot where Sunset hadn’t been supposed to go; a functional place, a city but underground, a place where the ceiling was no higher than the highest roof; a place of struts and sturdy supports, a place of arches and halls, a place where even though the ceiling rose ever so high, you could never lose sight of what was holding it up.

None of those expectations did justice to the underground city, which, as they stood on the steps leading down from the Nightmarket, they could behold at last.

And 'behold' was the right word, for the darkness had less power here than Sunset had feared, less than might have been expected from the walk down the steps and across the concourse. For not only had Mountain Glenn been cavernously excavated, not only had the city been dug far deeper into the earth than necessary, not only was the ceiling set high above the tallest tower, with nary a single column or beam to be seen, not only all of that, but in the ceiling had been set starlight. It was probably dust, although what dust would still be giving off light after all this time, and how it was being charged, Sunset could not tell. Perhaps it was not dust, and something else dug from the earth that Sunset could not identify. Either way, they had set whatever it was in the dark ceiling like stars spread across the heavens, where the silver lights twinkled beautifully so far above them.

It was not daylight, to be sure, but it transformed what Sunset had feared would be a lightless hole into something reminiscent of a night sky.

And though it did not illuminate Mountain Glenn as greatly as might have been desired yet, it was beautiful. A night sky, brought down beneath the ground, lights not scattered at random but forming patterns by their placement. Sunset was sufficiently interested in astronomy that she could recognise some of the patterns: Monstra, the Sea Feilong, Cenitaur. Others were alien to her eyes, and it occurred to her that not all of these patterns of light need mirror the celestial lights above; who was to say they had not sought to make their own constellations here beneath the earth?

It was, to Sunset’s eyes, the most impressive thing about the whole endeavour, symbolic of the nature of Vale’s ambition: to make a whole new world beneath the surface.

Symbolic of the overweening ambition that had destroyed Mountain Glenn.

Yet it was beautiful, nevertheless.

“'When he shall die,'” Blake murmured, “'take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world shall be in love with night.'”

Sunset glanced at her and smiled, but as she smiled, she could not help but glance away from Blake and towards Pyrrha.

If anyone amongst us could make the face of heaven so fine… The way that Jaune was looking at Pyrrha suggested that he had had the same idea.

But she will not die today.

No one will die today.

Sunset did not want to tear her eyes away from the sky. She did not want to look from the majesty above them to the tomb of the dead that lay around them.

When she looked at the stars above, she could forget that this whole city was spun about with spiders’ webs and that Cinder sat the centre of it all, holding court, pulling the threads as she desired.

Sunset shook her head. No time to think about Cinder, the queen in the nest; no time to think about Adam, the beast who dwelt within this labyrinth. Just time to do what they came here to do: find the White Fang base, find out what they were doing, put a stop to it.

Put like that, it sounded simple enough.

Of course, it would not actually be that simple. Not with the enemies they faced. Cinder for one, but Cinder did not frighten Sunset the way that Adam did. That red sword. She felt that she could not cease to be afeared of that sword until she had it in her possession. Only then would she have triumphed over him.

Only then would he not terrify her.

Unbidden, Sunset’s hand began to stray towards her belly, towards the wound that he had given her upon the train.

Another hand caught hers before it could reach the hastily repaired hole in her cuirass that he had made. It was Blake’s hand.

“Whatever happens,” she said, “we’ll face him together, if we have to.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “How did you-?”

“I knew,” Blake said.

Sunset nodded. There was no point denying it, after all. “Are you sure? I mean, you two-”

“That’s why it has to be me,” Blake said. “I have to face him, after everything. And besides… I won’t let you face him alone.”

Sunset nodded. “Thank you.”

“We should move out,” Rainbow said. “I think it’s that way.”

Having emerged from the Nightmarket – and that name made a little more sense when you saw what was on the other side of it – they stood at the edge of a square plaza. The Nightmarket took up one side of the square, and the other was wholly occupied by a movie theatre, the fading posters advertising the blockbusters of twenty years ago. The way out of the plaza, directly ahead of them, had been barricaded up, and so, Rainbow had pointed towards the the police station on the far side of the plaza, a large and looming fortress-like structure with barred windows, the tattered remains of a Vale flag rotting away on a metal pole above the door, and what looked like neon lights that would, when lit, have spelled ‘Vale Police Department’ though now so many letters were missing that it was more like ‘V li e part t.’

Nevertheless, that was the direction in which Sunset led the way, the flashlight taped to her gun lit and her night vision spell showing her a little of the dark deserted square over which they ran. There had once been a fountain at the centre of it, from the looks of things, but it was smashed and still by now. It looked like there had also been a statue outside the police station, but that had been smashed as well, and Sunset wasn’t going to stop and look for the name on the plinth.

A couple of wrecked police cars rusting away in the dank, damp dark barred their way, but Sunset leapt over the bonnet of one of them easily, and the rest of the group followed her lead as she climbed the steps and pushed at the claw-marked door into the station house.

The door stuck. Something was wedged against it from the other side; it was barely moving. Sunset pushed again, and when it still didn’t move very much, Pyrrha jogged up the steps and put her shoulder to it.

“On three?” she suggested.

“Sure,” Sunset said. “One... two... three!”

They heaved against the door, pushing against it with all of the enhanced might that their aura lent them, and gradually, the door shifted backwards with a screeching sound from whatever was trapped against it and was blocking their access. It didn’t want to move, but Sunset and Pyrrha pushed against it so relentlessly that it had no choice but to move until the crack in the door was large enough for Sunset to slip through.

She swept her torch around the corridor in which she found herself and leapt back with a strangled cry as the beam alighted upon a body, a skeleton now, face framed in what Sunset could only interpret as a cry of horror mirroring her own. They were dressed in the remains of tactical or riot gear, with a dust-covered shotgun lying at their side and a half-empty box of shells, the cartridges spilling out across the floor, beside them too.

Judging by the state of their vest, whoever it was had been ripped apart.

“What is it?” Pyrrha asked anxiously as she slipped through the door. She soon saw what the light was shining on. “Oh. Oh my.”

Sunset shone the light somewhere else. “Just a little reminder of what happened to this place.”

It turned out that they still hadn’t opened the door quite enough to accommodate Jaune, who had the broadest shoulders out of all of them and the most bulky armour beside, but now that Sunset and Pyrrha were in, they were able to move the filing cabinets that had been blocking the door so that it opened completely.

“They must have barricaded themselves in here,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Or tried to,” Sunset replied. Obviously, it hadn’t worked too well.

“Last stand,” Rainbow muttered.

They found more skeletons as they traversed the station. Sunset was glad that they weren’t bodies, but the fleshless, browning skeletons with their gaping open mouths were bad enough. They lay on the floor, slumped over desks or fallen back into chairs, half-propped up against the walls. Some of them had weapons lying beside them or still gripped in one skeletal hand: shotguns, submachine guns, assault rifles, simple pistols. Some nightsticks or fire axes lay nearby, but some of the bodies had no weapons at all. Some of them were children. Sunset saw one pair of bodies that looked like a mother cradling a child in her arms.

“When the grimm started to pour in, these people must have fled here hoping that the police could protect them,” Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune turned and threw up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…”

“We understand,” Pyrrha said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “This is difficult for all of us.”

“Professor,” Blake murmured. “Were all of these people left here to die when the grimm invaded the city? Did Vale even try to get them out?”

“They tried,” Professor Goodwitch said, in a voice laced with disapproval. “But they didn’t try hard enough.”

Rainbow sniffed. “In Atlas-”

“Vale asked Atlas for its assistance when the grimm overran the upper city, and Atlas refused,” Professor Goodwitch declared tartly. “The north has no right to lecture us, not about this.”

Rainbow was silent a moment. She glanced down at the floor with all its horrors. “I… I didn’t know that, Professor?”

“Why didn’t we help?” Penny asked. “I thought we were supposed to be the protectors of the world.”

“That… that is our… role,” Ciel murmured, sounding like she was trying to explain the death of a pet to a child. “But that role has… it has not always been… universally embraced. Politics… it is a fickle business, the masses do not always choose wisely, and General Ironwood was not at that time in command. Those to whom the decision fell… they were not worthy of Atlas.”

“That’s… a generous way of putting it,” Ruby remarked.

Ciel looked at her. “Do you have a less ‘generous’ way of putting it?”

“My uncle says it’s because there was nothing in it for you,” Ruby declared. “And you couldn’t be bothered.”

Ciel inhaled through her nostrils. “I was not aware that you had had such contempt for us all this time.”

“I don’t have contempt for you,” Ruby replied. “I just don’t think you’re our saviours either.”

“Ciel’s right,” Rainbow said. “Things are different now. The General is in command, and we have good people like Cadance on the Council. Atlas is better than it used to be. Whatever happened twenty years ago, we’re here now. This isn’t going to happen to Vale.”

“No, it won’t,” Ruby said, and her voice had lost all of its childishness, replaced with a settled determination. “We’ll stop them, no matter what it takes.”

“Of course we will,” Sunset said. “Penny: use it, remember? Chin up.”

Penny gave a broken nod. “Right.”

“We should keep moving,” Sunset said. “Staying here doesn’t get us anywhere. And I think we all want to be away from this as quickly as possible.” If I’d thought about what we were likely to find here, I’d have suggested we circle around the building instead of going through it.

She led the way, and they soon found how the grimm had gotten past the barricades on the doors: it looked like an especially large creep or something had simply smashed a hole through one of the walls, and no doubt smaller grimm hadn’t been far behind.

The police might have fought bravely, but without huntsman-tier weapons and training – without aura – they’d never stood a chance.

Keen as they all now were to get out of here as quickly as possible, Sunset headed straight for the hole in the wall and the others followed.

“Wait,” Professor Goodwitch ordered.

Sunset looked back. It was unusual for the professor to actually give a command like that. “Professor?”

“Something’s coming,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Sunset listened. She could hear it too. A clicking sound, something that she couldn’t place and hadn’t heard before, but definitely getting closer to them.

Nobody needed to be told what to do. In an instant, their weapons were out, unfolding with a variety of clicks and hydraulic hisses into their desired configurations: Gambol Shroud in pistol mode, Miló in rifle form, Crescent Rose fully extended with blade bared and barrel long. Distant Thunder unfolded itself, and Rainbow cocked Unfailing Loyalty as the blades of Floating Array – folded in half for laser fire – formed a halo around Penny’s head. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and was ready to activate the dust sewn into her jacket at the earliest need. Jaune drew Crocea Mors from its scabbard, unfurled his shield and held it before him. Professor Goodwitch stood a little behind the students, her riding crop at the ready. They stood in a rough semi-circle, a crescent facing the hole in the wall, listening to that sound, that unnatural clicking sound as it slowly, inexorably, drew closer and closer towards them.

Sunset licked her lips. Whatever this thing was, this clicking creature that she’d never heard nor heard of in Professor Port’s class – would it have killed him to have told a story about a rare and unusual kind of grimm before they met it? – it was taking its sweet time to get to them.

And yet, she had no doubt that it would get to them eventually, and not only because the sound was getting closer but because it was the only sound. It had to know that they were there. It had to be coming for them.

Sunset’s mouth twisted into a sneer. Let it come. They weren’t the cops. They did have huntsmen tier weapons and training. Whatever this clicking thing was, it wouldn’t find them such easy prey as the last denizens of Mountain Glenn.

“Please lower your weapons,” a voice declared, a voice that had all of the commanding presence of Celestia but – as far as Sunset could hear – none of the warmth, or even the potential for warmth, as a pair of red tentacles tipped with spear-tips of bone appeared from below the bottom of the hole, raised like hands in surrender. “I mean you no harm.”

Sunset glanced at her friends. What kind of grimm could speak? What kind of human had tentacles? A squid faunus? But a look at Blake showed that she was just as confused as they were, so clearly, she hadn’t seen – or heard – anything like this before either.

Nobody shot, but nobody lowered their weapons either.

“Who are you?” Sunset demanded. “What are you? Show yourself!”

“Of course. It would be very hard for us to speak otherwise.” The thing that emerged through the hole and into the precinct station house was a floating sphere, lightly encrusted with armour plating in the traditional bone-white of the creatures of grimm, with two rows of long, sharp fangs lining the bottom of the ball facing downwards. In addition to the two tentacles currently raised in a pacific gesture, there were six more of them still trailing along the ground, lifted up just enough so that they didn’t touch it but otherwise utterly still as the sphere advanced upon them.

A golden light glowed within the sphere, and within the light, Sunset could perceive the shape of a woman, a bleached nightmare of a woman with eyes as red as blood and veins standing out in sharp relief upon her face, like an undead monster from one of Jaune’s comics, but a woman nevertheless.

“Greetings, children,” she said as the sphere rose up into the air so that she within it was looking down upon them all. “I’ve heard so much about you. It really is a pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

“Who…” Jaune gasped. “Who are-?”

She laughed. “Forgive me. Where are my manners? Of course, we haven’t been properly introduced. I do so hope that you overlook my discourtesy. My name is Salem. You may have heard of me.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. Salem? The Salem? The great enemy that Professor Ozpin had told them of, the queen in shadows, the brain that was guiding every evil hand, the hand that was tugging all the strings, the black king moving all her knights and pawns and queens… and she was right in front of them now. Or at least, a projection of her was. This was clearly magic of some sort. In spite of her shock – perhaps because of it, because it was easier to think about spells than the fact that the great enemy had shown herself to them – Sunset could deduce that this tentacled creature was clearly functioning very much like a seeing stone. She would be willing to bet lien that Salem was speaking into another such creature from wherever she actually was, the two linked together by a spell almost like the ones that had gone into making Sunset’s journal to Celestia. It was an impressive piece of magic, especially for this world, so she must-

Sunset’s thoughts were interrupted by a snarl of anger from Ruby as she raised Crescent Rose to aim squarely at the floating grimm. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.

“STOP.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. A squeak escaped her lips. She did not fire. She did not move.

Nobody moved. Sunset found that she could not move. It was… no, it was not like a paralysis spell; it was more like… it was like her limbs were literally frozen with nerves. How could she move? How could she fire? How could she turn weapon or magic upon the Queen of Grimm? How could she even contemplate such madness? This was an enemy who could not be defeated, who would be here when the bones of Sunset Shimmer and all the rest had turned to dust. How could she even think of acting against her, of using violence against her? How could she dream of doing anything but stand... and listen?

“What…” Sunset found her tongue was yet her own. “What have you done?”

Salem did not respond to her. Rather, she looked down at Ruby with disappointment. “I am not here to fight. Much like your dear Professor Ozpin, I prefer to use others as my weapons. You cannot take my life, and I am not here to take yours. I only wish to speak with you.”

“Whatever you think you have to say, I can assure you that we are not interested,” Professor Goodwitch growled. Her whole body was shaking, as if she were trying to resist the enchantment that Salem had placed upon them all, though it seemed she had not broken it yet. “If you are not here to fight, then you may as well leave. We have nothing to discuss.”

“'Nothing'?” Salem asked. “Nothing, Glynda, nothing at all?”

“Nothing,” Glynda repeated. “What could you possibly offer me? Power? Prestige?”

“How about a life of less futility?” Salem suggested. “I was surprised to see you here, Glynda. Is this atonement? Have you come seeking the release of death, or do you simply hope to improve the average life expectancy of Ozpin’s puppets by a single mission?”

“'A single mission'?” Sunset repeated. “What do you-”

“You would need a cold heart indeed to be immune to what you do,” Salem went on, addressing Professor Goodwitch as though Sunset were not there. “Every year, the students come, ‘teach us, Professor Goodwitch, arm us with knowledge against the terrors of the world.’ They come to you, they put their trust in you, and what do you feed them? Lies and half-truths.”

“What I do,” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “What I say-”

“Is not enough,” Salem declared bluntly. “Have you ever wondered how many of those gallant young men and women who emerge from your care go on to die because you kept the truth from them, because you concealed from them what they were really up against? Do you really think a bowl of candy on your desk is enough to make up for keeping them in ignorance and leaving them wholly unprepared to face me and my malice?”

There were tears forming in Professor Goodwitch’s eyes. “No,” she confessed. “No, I do not.”

“No,” Salem agreed. “But then, perhaps the ignorant ones are also the fortunate ones. They don’t have to suffer the fates of your… your favourite students. How many boys and girls have you mentored, praised, encouraged, and then recruited? How many have joined this shadow war because they didn’t want to let down the noble Professor Goodwitch who’d been so very good to them?”

Professor Goodwitch did not respond. She bowed her head as the tears fell down it.

“You call me monster,” Salem said scornfully. “But I do not raise armies of the ignorant, filling the ranks with those who think they know all that they need to know and never dream they are deceived by those whom they trust most.”

The grimm turned, pivoting as it floated in the air, looking first this way and then that.

“It seems you were correct, Glynda,” Salem said. “You had nothing to say, after all. Very well, shall I speak next to one of the new generation, to Ozpin’s latest champions? Or perhaps I should begin with James’ prized protégés? I must admit, this is a new development, an Atlesian general inserting his own men into the game. Has James’ grown tired of following Ozpin’s lead? Or is it merely that he doesn’t trust anyone he can’t control?”

“Don’t talk about the General that way!” Rainbow snapped.

Salem looked at her, the grimm from which she could project herself rotating in place until Salem was facing the Atlesian team leader. “Rainbow hair,” she murmured. “In the north, they call that the aurora’s kiss, and those who possess it are thought to be blessed. Nonsense, of course.”

“Maybe,” Rainbow growled. “But General Ironwood-”

“Has you deceived,” Salem declared. “But then, James always had a gift for winning loyalty. His only true talent. That, and reciprocating, I admit. He is a better lord of men than Ozpin; he has some sense of how to treat his loyal servants. How else, after all, could he have convinced you that he is one of the great captains? A mediocre man who cannot even keep his own body safe, and yet, you believe that he can protect the world?”

“We’ll all protect the world,” Rainbow insisted. “Together, shoulder-”

“'Shoulder to shoulder, the strength of Atlas,'” Salem finished. “'Arise, arise, flowers of the north.' The only thing worse than vanity is vanity concealing weakness. Strip away your bombast and bravado, strip away the words learned by rote, take off the pride you wear like armour, and what remains?”

Rainbow did not reply. Her mouth opened, but no words flew forth. She shook her head, or tried to; it manifested in nothing but a tiny gesture, barely noticeable.

“F-friendship,” Penny said. “That… that’s what we have left. When everything else is gone, what we have left is one another.”

“And for how long?” Salem demanded. “How long do you have one another, when hope has failed and the night never ends? And what happens when your friends start to fall, as Atlas will fall? What happens when the screams of those you thought would fight beside start to mingle with the drying groans of those you swore to protect?”

“No!” Rainbow cried, her shotgun hitting the ground with a crash as she clutched at the side of her head. “Stop it! Stop it!”

Penny let out a mewling, piteous wail of pain and started to double up, hugging herself for comfort.

What in Celestia’s name is she doing to them?

Ciel glared furiously at Salem and her grimm as she began to murmur, “'Though I walk in darkness, thou art my light, for thy teachings-'”

“Did not save the Lady of the North from me,” Salem declared. “Does your faith teach you that, acolyte? Does your holy book teach you that in her pride, the Lady answered a challenge from my champion of the day, rode into darkness, and was never seen again?”

Ciel gritted her teeth. “The Lady stands between God-”

“I saw the Lady’s body burn,” Salem informed her. “Just as I see you before me now. She thought more of her pride than she did of me, just as you do now. And she paid for her arrogance, just as you will.”

“What a disappointing trio you are,” she said. “I don’t know why I expected more of James, but hopefully, Ozpin’s new recruits will prove to be made of sterner stuff.” Her grimm drifted like a cloud in Blake’s direction.

“You are not my enemy,” she said to Blake. “There is no reason we should come to blows. You were of the White Fang once, and the White Fang and I are friends and partners.”

“'Partners'?” Blake said. “Or slaves?”

“'Slaves'?” Salem repeated. “You speak of slaves, you who have abandoned your people to their chains, while you live in carefree luxury?”

“No!” Blake cried. “It isn’t like that-”

“Really?” Salem asked. “Then when was the last time that you did anything to help your people, those for whom you claim to speak and fight?”

Blake’s mouth worked furiously but silently. “Well… I…”

“You know what has been done to the faunus,” Salem crooned. “You know what they have suffered at the hands of men. And yet you fight for those same men, for those who speak so considerately and do nothing. What have Ozpin’s pieties done to help your kind in all these years? What are James’ self-proclaimed good intentions worth? What have you done, judged those taking a stand against true evil and helped to keep them down beneath the human boot?”

Blake flinched, turning away from Salem’s words, wrapping her arms around her body in a self-embrace. Her look was stricken, mouth open and eyes darting back and forth, her body tensed as though she might flee at any moment.

Salem paid her no further heed. She floated along the crescent they had formed, stopping in front of Pyrrha, descending towards the ground until Salem’s ghostly, desiccated face was level with Pyrrha’s fair features. “What say you, Theseus’ heir?” She chuckled. “I assure you, it takes more to make an empress than a touch of noble blood.”

“Then… then it is a good thing that I do not desire the throne,” Pyrrha declared.

“No?” Salem asked. “So easily said, but not so easily meant. Do you not desire what was stolen from your family?”

“No.”

“I could help you, you know,” Salem continued. “If you know anything about me, you will know that I am not without power. And I am not above using that power to benefit those who serve me well. I am not like Ozpin; I do not send my cohorts out to risk their lives for me, over and over again, without reward until I have hollowed them out and reduced them to empty shells or worse. I do not throw my servants into the fire repeatedly until they burn. A Nikos may once again sit on the throne of Mistral if you will have it so.”

“I do not!” Pyrrha cried. “That is not the destiny that I desire.”

“Then what is the destiny that you desire?”

Pyrrha looked their great enemy straight in the eyes. “To stand between you and those you would harm, as a huntress and a protector of the world. To be a shepherd of the people, as it was called of old.”

“'A huntress and a protector of the world,'” Salem repeated, though not without a touch of mockery in her voice. “How very nobly spoken, how regal in your turn of phrase, how… mistaken. That is not your destiny, Pyrrha Nikos. Death is your destiny, abject failure is your destiny, and if you seek to oppose me, then I shall be your destiny.” One of the grimm’s tentacles began to reach up, as though it meant to coil itself around Pyrrha’s throat. “All that you love shall turn to ashes.”

Pyrrha’s breathing was coming heavier now. Her hands had fallen to her sides, and it seemed that she was struggling to keep hold of Miló.

Sunset longed to speak, longed to cry out, long to unleash her magic, but her body, even her tongue, would not obey her. It was as though she was trapped inside her own mind, watching Salem menace her friend and yet be unable to do anything about it.

The temperature had dropped in the dead police station, in the cold Salem held them all frozen.

“You’re wrong!” Ruby cried, her voice like a trumpet sounding men to arms. “You act as though you’re all-powerful, as though you’re irresistible, but if you’re immortal, then the only thing that’s true is that you’ve been resisted! Generations of huntsmen and huntresses have held you at bay, in spite of the grimm and anything else that you could throw at them! They stood together and held to their bonds and trusted one another, and they stopped you. Just like we will stop you.”

Salem was silent for a moment, leaving Pyrrha behind to float across their ranks until she was above Ruby, looking down on her.

“Your mother said much the same, once upon a time,” Salem observed dispassionately.

Ruby’s silver eyes widened yet further. “My… mom?”

“She was very brave,” Salem acknowledged. “But ultimately quite mistaken.”

What happened next… Sunset had never seen anything like it, nor wished to see anything like it again. Ruby Rose, the bravest of the brave, began to sob in terror and regret, tears streaming down her face in an instant, cascading down her pale cheeks no matter how she wiped at her eyes, wiping and wiping, but there were always more tears to come.

More tears to fall from those silver eyes.

Ruby kept on sobbing, kept on weeping, and then she cried out in fear and alarm as a silver light sparked from her eyes, her orbs illuminating, seeming to turn for a moment into light itself, blinding light. A spark. A pause. Another spark, like a lightbulb that had been improperly wired or which was reaching the end of its lifespan. Ruby stumbled, swaying from side to side, until she collapsed onto her knees, clutching her face, sobbing into her hands.

Sunset found that she could move again, at least move enough to drop to her knees and put her arms around Ruby’s shoulders, holding her as she sobbed.

She looked down at Ruby, who seemed so small and frail there on the floor, and then glared up at Salem in her grimm sphere. “It’s magic, isn’t it?” she said. “Just like your showing yourself through that grimm is magic. There is no great force in your words to bend us to your will; it’s nothing but a magic spell.”

“Yet spells have power, don’t they, Sunset Shimmer?” Salem asked. “Else from where does your power arise?”

Sunset gritted her teeth. “I don’t-”

“Do not think me ignorant, young filly,” Salem said coldly. “I was there when the mirror was made. I know magic, and Equestrian magic what is more. I can smell it on you.”

“Or you’re plucking all you know right out of my head with some spell of your own,” Sunset declared. “You have gotten into their heads, you prefer to rummage around in mine.”

“Or perhaps your friends are so afflicted by my arguments because my words ring true,” Salem suggested. “You know it, do you not, my little exile so far from home? You understand that serving Ozpin will bring you only death.”

Sunset flinched. She could feel Salem’s magic working on her. She could hear noises, discordant noises, like the screams of dying creatures. The screams of dying people. Pyrrha’s scream, she could hear Pyrrha screaming in her head, and when she shut her eyes, she could see it: Pyrrha dying, her body pierced by an arrow.

“The mightiest warrior may be slain by a single arrow.”

Pyrrha clutched at the wound that had been dealt to her, her whole body shook as she struggled to breathe, her scream became hoarse as she began to choke on her own blood.

Sunset scowled and shook her head. “No,” she murmured. “No.”

Salem spoke over her, saying, “When I was a girl, so many years ago in an age of heroes and magic beside which the current age for all its advances pales in comparison, the lord was the ring giver. He fed his faithful companions in his hall and rewarded them with silver for their faithful service. He earned their devotion through his generosity as well as through his valour leading them in battle. And he never asked anything of his loyal servants that would compromise their honour, comprehending that their worth to him lay in more than their ability to wield swords or spears.

“But Ozpin… Ozpin is no true lord. How far he has fallen from those far-off, long ago ideals he once exemplified. He demands all from those who devote themselves to him, body and soul both together, and in return, he gives not even the smallest trifle of his appreciation. He hoards his power and his relics and all else that he can acquire, reckoning his loyal followers as nothing but bodies he can throw into this pointless struggle against me.

“I have lived so long. Longer than any of you can possibly comprehend. A thousand generations and more, I have walked upon the surface of the world, and in every generation, there has been a man like Ozpin, raising up his warriors to fight against me, staying behind safely in one high tower or the next while others die for him. In every generation, men have trusted Ozpin, and at his word, they have fought against me, and where are they now? Dead, dust and forgotten. Look at the fate of Team Stark, Ozpin’s last champions. They were as young as you, as talented as you, moreso. They were brave and bold and full of ideals. And where are they now? Summer is gone, the shattered dragon hides away in his log cabin, the Raven is fled… nothing remains but a dusty old Qrow with a broken heart and a broken soul.

“But that can change. You need not serve such a man as he is, such an unworthy master as he is. You need not be bound to him.”

Sunset closed her eyes. It was Jaune that she could see now, Jaune that she could hear crying out as the grimm dragged him by the feet to his inevitable death. “What is the alternative?” she demanded. “To serve you?”

“I flatter myself that I do better than he does by those who pledge themselves unto my service,” Salem declared. “Though few come, those who do make the journey to my side are men and women of quality, forged in the fires of hardship, inured to effort and to suffering. They come, the broken, the abandoned, and the rejected of the world, the least of these, those who are valued not by any other man, those who are not seen for what they truly are nor recognised for their worth; one by one, they come to me, and I raise them up and reward them as their worth and loyalty deserves. Power, riches, all they desire, I grant my faithful, whom I love as dearly as if they were my own children.

“I can grant your wishes,” she purred. “Whatever you desire, it shall be yours. I can be your good lord, your ring-giver, your angel, and all that I ask in return is that you grant me what I desire.

“Or you may choose the fate of all those who have followed Ozpin.”

Sunset’s breast heaved. “Death?”

“For some,” Salem agreed. “But not for you, I think. You shall be the dusty Qrow of your generation. You will watch your friends die all around you.”

Pyrrha fell before Sunset’s eyes, the light departing from her orbs of vibrant green, her fair skin stained with blood as red as the tattered remains of the sash that hung about her waist.

“No.”

“You will be powerless to help them.”

Jaune reached out in vain for Sunset as he was dragged out of sight beneath a mass of beowolves.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“They will be taken from you in an instant.”

One moment, Blake stood upon a frozen battlefield, the moonlight bright upon her, illuminating her like some ethereal creature; the next, the griffon’s maw had closed upon her, and she was gone, lost to mortal sight, lost to Sunset forever.

“This isn’t real.”

“One by one, they all shall fall,” Salem declared. “To darkness, and to me.”

Ruby sat with her back to a tree, the shattered remains of Crescent Rose upon her lap. Blood spilled from her mouth, and her body was ragged and torn, shredded by many claws that had torn her to pieces, sparing only her face so that Sunset might know her. Her face which was turned away from Sunset, frozen in a rictus of pain, the horror of her passing disfiguring that face meant for smiles.

“And you will wander Remnant alone, broken-”

“I will not.”

“-abandoned, forsaken by Ozpin, of no more use to him-”

“I care not.”

“You will cry out for those dear to you, but they will not return-”

“I said NO!” Sunset roared, and as she roared, she rose once more to her feet. Anger, hotter than a dragon’s flame, consumed her heart, and in its heat, the frost of fear that Salem had put on her melted away like morning dew. She might speak well and nobly, she might be possessed of magic, but Salem’s words could compel Sunset only by making her afraid.

And right now, her words had made her angry instead.

Sunset’s hands glowed green with power as she seized Salem’s grimm in the embrace of her telekinesis, gripping tight and squeezing upon it.

“Now you listen to me, O Mistress of the Grimm,” Sunset snarled. “Wiser princesses, more noble and more virtuous in all regards, have sought to dictate to me my fate, have sought to lay down in discourse what I may do and may not do, where I may go and may not go, what I may become and not become. I did not listen then, though I had great cause in my heart to listen; I am not minded now to listen instead to you who offer nothing but dire prophecies and the fears you reach into our heads to take!

“I will not suffer to embrace your vulgar plans for my misfortune. I will not suffer you to cut off the threads of my dear friends and take their lives before their time. I defy your maudlin predictions, and I deny you. All things that we desire, we shall have; all wishes we shall make come true out of our strength united. You demanded obedient service, well, my lady, I fear I choose defiance.” Sunset grinned. “And I hope this hurts.”

She squeezed; with the magic at her command, she squeezed the grimm until it shrieked in pain, until she could feel its tentacles trying to lash out wildly, to spasm like the kicking legs of a dying fly. She held it fast. She restrained every part of this thing, holding it in place as she squeezed it and squeezed it, until the glass sphere shattered and the myriad pieces of the broken grimm turned to ashes as they fell, slowly, down to the ground.

Author's Note

The fate of Fluttershy and Applejack was derived from all those grimm Pyrrha theories floating around at the end of Volume 3; that's almost certainly not going to happen now and if it were I beleive they wouldn't have bothered with the memorial scene in volume 6, but I thought it was a cool idea nonetheless.

Rewrite Notes: It's not a settled opinion, and it might not even be consensus, but I think there's certainly room to read what happens to Ruby at the end of volume 7 as some sort of mind-messing magic on Salem's part; not only how quickly Ruby's defiance crumbles after a word from Salem, but also the discordant string music, the way that the flashback is framed as a corruption of the memory of Summer from the end of volume 6, it all, to me, speaks to a wrongness, an interference from Salem.

And out of such is this revised scene constructed.

Whatever It Takes (Rewritten)

Whatever It Takes

Sunset stood, frozen, as the ashes of the grimm descended to the floor. A cloud of dark smoke hovered in front of her for a moment before it disappeared, just as the grimm itself had.

Just as Salem had.

Except she hadn’t. Not in the way that mattered, not in the way that would have helped Sunset, or at least, not in the way that Sunset wished.

She could still hear the screams. She could still hear it in her head. They mingled together like the discordant screeching of ill-played violins. And when she shut her eyes, as she momentarily shut her eyes and hoped no one could see it, she could see them dying. Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake; even Rainbow Dash, even Twilight; she could see them dying, she could hear them crying out, and she could not stop it. She could not help them.

“You will watch your friends die all around you. You will be powerless to help them.”

No. No. I deny you and defy you.

But she could not defy her fears. She could not deny that Salem’s words, her visions, had taken root inside her mind. She could not deny that she feared, as she had always feared, but Salem had taken those fears and given shape to shapeless dread, had formed her misgivings and her lurking terror and dragged those new-formed qualms out where she could see them.

Where she had no choice but to look at them.

She did not turn around. She didn’t want to look at any of them. She feared that if she looked at them, she would see only Salem’s visions: Pyrrha choking on her own blood, Jaune devoured, Ruby torn to shreds. She feared that if they could see her eyes, then they would know how deeply fear held her in its grip.

Professor Ozpin had warned her that she might need to sacrifice the life of a friend to achieve victory. He had warned her, and she had glibly and proudly dismissed his warning, glorying in her own strength, thinking more of her own power and resolve than in the foe that waited for them here. And thus, she had ventured to this dead place, to the very dominion of death and darkness, she had led her team, her friends, into the underworld, and there… there they had met their adversary.

An adversary who prophesied the deaths of those that Sunset held dear.

Omens upon omens piled up high, foretelling death within the mausoleum.

No. No, I will not suffer it.

Words, words, words, what are words when set against Adam’s terrible red sword and Cinder’s all-consuming wrath?

She could not drive the visions from her mind. She could not cease to hear the voices.

It was like when she had discovered her semblance and used it on Cinder, when Cinder’s own feelings and emotions had threatened to overwhelm her… except this seemed worse. Yes, she had dreamt of striking down Pyrrha then, but then, it had been only her own actions that she needed to fear; she could resolve to control herself, she could – at the last resort – stay away from the people she cared about.

But now, in this place, her fears were not of herself but of what others might do, and she could not resolve it so easily by keeping her distance.

Nor could she banish all wicked thoughts by the simple expedient of taking Ruby’s hand.

Not when Ruby had her own battles to fight.

Her mother.

Unless Sunset guessed wrong, Salem had amplified the discordant note that Sunset had felt in Ruby’s soul when she had used her semblance on her partner.

Sunset began to contemplate the possibility – eagerly contemplate, she could admit to herself – of aborting the mission. Of declaring that they were all too shaken to continue, their nerves too jangled to attempt a task of such great moment. Yes, they would return to Beacon as failures, with their work undone, but at the same time, they would return to Beacon safe and sound, all of them. Salem’s grim prophecy would be averted for the present.

And they would not return without some useful intelligence. Cinder and Adam were both at Mountain Glenn; it was not too much to say that this was, indeed, the White Fang base.

Perhaps we should have simply reported that fact and then left last night or this morning. Let the Atlesians take over and flood the place with soldiers.

Perhaps it was merely vanity that we did not.

And look where vanity has led us now.

A groan from Rainbow Dash drew Sunset out of her thoughts – for the moment, at least. “What… what was that?”

“Magic,” Sunset said, trying to keep her voice steady and free from trembling. “It was not Salem’s words alone that affected us so; she… she was using magic to… to put the fear in us.”

It was not a very scientific explanation for what had just happened, but at the moment and in her present state of whirling thoughts and lingering anxieties, it was the best that she could come up with.

And it did explain concisely what had just happened.

“I… I heard them,” Rainbow murmured. “I heard them crying out. Twilight, Pinkie, Rarity, Fluttershy, Applejack, Scootaloo… I could hear all of them. I heard them… I saw them… I saw them-”

“Dying?” Sunset asked, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. She ventured a look at Rainbow Dash, who had confessed fears so like to Sunset’s own. She saw in Rainbow’s magenta eyes her own fears reflected. The fears that had taken the heart of her.

Rainbow nodded, a short, sharp gesture. “How… how?” she demanded. “How could she know that, who could she-?”

“She didn’t, until she plucked it from your mind,” Sunset said.

“And she can do that too?” Rainbow demanded. “How?”

“I don’t know, with more magic?” Sunset snapped. “I can’t explain how she did it!”

“Why not, aren’t you supposed to have magic too?!” Rainbow yelled, before she gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.

Professor Goodwitch let out a weary sigh. “Relax, Miss Dash; I am already quite aware of Miss Shimmer’s unique abilities. If you were trying to keep it a secret, Miss Shimmer, you were not doing a particularly good job.”

“With respect, Professor, I suspect that if you didn’t already know that magic existed, you might give me a different answer.”

“Perhaps,” Professor Goodwitch allowed. “But I do know, and I have known that you possess magic for some time, as has Professor Ozpin.”

Sunset let out a ragged sigh. “I thought he might, Professor.” She paused. “But my magic… it is not as Salem’s is; I cannot say how she did what she did, only… only that she did it.”

“How, then, can you be sure it was magic?” Ciel asked.

“She didn’t deny it when I accused her of it,” Sunset said. “She could have, although… it must be magic of some sort that let her project herself from her true location through that grimm, and to project a semblance so far as well? No, it felt like magic, and I… I am confident that it was magic.”

That might be the only thing I’m confident in at this point.

“Then… then it wasn’t real?” Penny asked.

“It was our fears,” Sunset declared. Which isn’t to say that they aren’t real.

“These are not childish nightmares that we speak of,” Blake murmured. “These fears she played upon are… it does concern me, the possibility that I might be turning away from helping my people, selling out to live in luxury and contentment.”

“I saw… it was as though I stood in the Fountain Courtyard,” Pyrrha whispered. “Except… except that death lay all around me, as it is here but more recent and so… so even more terrible to look upon.” Her voice trembled. “The courtyard was burning. The waters were red with blood, and when I rushed from the courtyard, rushed out of the palace, I saw… I saw the whole of Mistral being devoured by flame.”

“And I saw you,” Jaune declared softly. “You were fighting… something. I couldn’t make out what it was, man or grimm, it was wreathed in shadow; I couldn’t get a proper look at it. I wasn’t trying to get a proper look at it. I could only see you. I was only focussed on you because… because you were losing. It felt like I kept trying to help you, but you kept pushing me back until in the end, you… you threw me away. You threw me away because you were-”

“Losing,” Pyrrha finished for him. Sunset dared to look at them, and as she looked, she saw Pyrrha reach out and take Jaune’s hand. “I have given you my promise, Jaune. Whatever else I am, or whatever I am not, I should like to think that I am a girl who keeps her word.” She hesitated. A shudder wracked her body and made her fair uncovered shoulders tremble. “Although,” she confessed, “if I were fighting a battle I knew I could not win, I… I do not know that I would wish for you to watch me die, still less-”

“Do you think that I’d want to live after… do you think that I’d want to live without… that’s exactly why I asked you to promise.”

Pyrrha looked into his eyes for a moment, and then closed hers. “And that is why I shall keep it,” she murmured.

Jaune kissed her, in spite of everyone who might be watching – in spite of Professor Goodwitch – and afterwards, he held her, his arms around her as he cradled her, her head pressed against his chest, her red hair falling down into his lap.

Jaune looked down at her, and then looked up at Sunset – Sunset turned away before she could meet his eyes – and then glanced back to see him sweep his blue-eyed gaze around the room.

“Can I just say something?” he asked. “I… I know that I’m not as good with words as Sunset is, so don’t expect a great speech and don’t expect it to sound the way that a speech should, but… but just let me say it anyway.

“Some of you have said what it was that you saw, what she showed you. Not all of you have, and that’s fine; you don’t have to say it. It sounds as though we mostly all saw similar kinds of stuff anyway. Like Blake said, these aren’t like nightmares that we saw. She didn’t show us monsters that aren’t real, or anything like that. As great as Pyrrha is, I know that there’s a chance… no offence.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I’m well aware of my limitations,” she murmured, her head still resting against Jaune’s breastplate. “Trust me.”

Jaune nodded. “So I’m not going to say that there’s nothing to be scared of, but… do you guys remember the fight at the docks? Do you remember what happened afterwards?”

“I believe I had some harsh words for you all, Mister Arc,” Professor Goodwitch reminded them.

Jaune chuckled nervously. “Well… yes, that too, Professor, but… what I was thinking of was after that. We promised that whatever happened next, we’d face it together. Well… a lot has happened since then, but we’re all still here. We’re still together, and as long as we stick together, I don’t see that we won’t get to the next thing, just like we’ve gotten this far. Together.

“Blake… I don’t know, I’m not a faunus, I can’t tell you how to feel, but I do know that you’re not sacrificing anything to live in comfort. You’re putting your life on the line as much as any of us to protect the world, including the faunus. You saved Ruby’s life in the Emerald Forest, you risked chills to find us a way through Mountain Glenn, you’re not doing nothing. You’re doing a whole lot. We’re all doing a whole lot to make sure that… to make sure that none of the things that we saw, none of the things we’re afraid of… we’re doing it to make sure that none of that happens, right?

“And it won’t, so long as we stick together, just like we have done since that night at the docks.”

Pyrrha smiled, though her eyes remained closed. “Together,” she murmured.

A smile tugged at the corners of Blake’s mouth. “Together.”

“Together!” Penny cried, pumping one fist into the air.

Ciel took a deep breath. “You are correct, of course. Our… these visions that she planted in our minds should not discourage us; rather, they should remind us of what we fight to protect. Together then, while the road lasts.”

“Together,” Ruby said, slowly getting to her feet, her red cape swaying a little behind her.

“Ruby,” Sunset said. “Are you-?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby said, wiping the tears away from her face.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed a little. “Are you sure about that?”

Ruby nodded. “Really, Sunset, I’m fine. We’re all fine now, right? It was all just magic, and she’s gone now.” She smiled. “Thanks for getting rid of her. It’s… it’s good that’s over.”

“Ruby,” Sunset murmured. “You don’t have to pretend that didn’t happen.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly.

“But-”

“It doesn’t matter, Sunset,” Ruby insisted. “I know that you worry about me, but... nothing that she said to me… I’ve always known that… I mean I should have known that… my mom’s dead,” she declared. “But it doesn’t matter if she didn’t manage to stop Salem; what matters is that she left a world for me to grow up in. And now, it’s my turn. Now, it’s all of our turn to pass that world on to the next generation the way that it was passed on to us. Whatever it takes.”

'Whatever it takes'? Sunset wanted to hug Ruby and recoil from her at the same time. She was in awe of Ruby’s courage, and at the same time, she was disgusted by it. 'Whatever it takes'? What if it took Pyrrha’s life, or Jaune’s life, or Penny’s life? 'Whatever it takes'? The sacrifice of Ruby herself, the loss of the entire party, both teams wiped out, Yang bereaved, the Nikos line extinguished?

'Whatever it takes'? Ruby would say 'yes,' Sunset was sure. Yes to all of it, yes to their annihilation, yes to every sacrifice. She would see the fears that Salem had planted like weeds in Sunset’s mind, and she would not flinch from any of them, not even from her own death.

Especially not from her own death.

That was what made her such a true huntress.

That was what made her such a terrible friend.

Is there anything worse than loving someone who does not, cannot think the way that you do? Sunset wondered. And knowing that the way you think, the drives that animate you, would leave them disgusted if they found them out?

If Ruby knew how afraid Sunset was right now, then she would think her a coward. If she knew some of the things that had been going through Sunset’s mind since they arrived in Mountain Glenn, she would think her much worse.

All of these thoughts, Sunset kept hidden as she put on a smile and said, “Your mother had a hell of a daughter.” And then she did hug Ruby, because as much as the younger girl scared the living daylights out of her sometimes, Sunset wouldn’t want Ruby anywhere else but on her team.

So she wrapped one arm around her and held her close and felt the leather of her jacket crumple a little as Ruby enveloped her in turn.

“You’re all so young,” Professor Goodwitch said, in a voice that was wistful, soft and filled with melancholy, like a country lament. “So young and with so much ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”

“Professor?” Ruby asked.

Professor Goodwitch blinked. Like Ruby, she too wiped at her eyes, or at least dabbed at them. “Salem… she wasn’t wrong about everything.”

Sunset frowned, because even though she was minded to agree, that didn’t make it any stranger to hear one of Professor Ozpin’s lieutenants say so. “Professor?”

“I remember all the students that I have taught,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Or tried to teach. I remember them, and I listen for news of them… and I learn of their fates. I’ve had so many students, and so many of them have given their lives to preserve our kingdoms, and I sometimes ask myself how many of them are remembered by anyone but me. We don’t even have a memorial for them anywhere on the school grounds. I sometimes ask myself if there’s more I could have done for them, or if I really did anything at all.

“There are times when it seems to me that those who do well in my class are those like Miss Nikos who need no instruction, while those like Mister Arc who require assistance do not find it in my class. And at times like that, I ask myself just what I’ve done, what I’m doing… whether I wouldn’t have been better off going out into the field, like my team-mates did after graduation.”

“Professor,” Ruby said, sounding a little tremulous. “I’m sure that if she were here, she’d tell you that you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

Professor Goodwitch’s gaze sharpened a little as she looked at Ruby. “Really, Miss Rose? As a teacher, I am supposed to dedicate myself to the pursuit of truth and knowledge and pass on both to my students. And yet, I have become a dealer in lies and deceptions, concealing from the students who come to me for knowledge the truth of the world that we live in, the war that we are fighting. I send them out to fight an enemy they do not even know exists.”

“You send us out to fight the grimm, Professor,” Pyrrha said, getting up as Jaune released her. “Just as we expected that we would when we applied for Beacon. It’s true that you don’t tell everyone everything, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t teach us what we need to know.”

Ruby nodded. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re a pretty good teacher.”

“Really?” Professor Goodwitch said. “And what have you learnt from me, Miss Rose?”

“I can’t speak for Ruby, but I’ve learned not to rely on my magic so much,” Sunset said. “It might have taken me a while to finally get it, but you were the first to point that out. You can’t teach us how to fight, Professor; we’re each too unique for that. But you’ve got a good eye, and you can spot our weaknesses before they get us hurt, or worse. That isn’t nothing.”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. She pushed her spectacles back up her nose. “However much of that was sincere or not, Miss Shimmer, I thank you for it. And now, I think that we have tarried here long enough. We’d best get moving.”

Sunset nodded, but she took a glance at Rainbow Dash, still kneeling on the floor, and said. “You go on ahead. I need a quick word with Rainbow; we have matters to discuss.”

“Huh?” Ruby asked.

“This won’t take long,” Sunset assured her. She waited for the others to take their leave, scrambling through the hole in the wall. Sunset waited for them to go, and as she waited, the sights flashed before her eyes, and the sounds of the screaming rang in her ears, and she would do anything, anything at all, to make them stop.

She would do anything to ensure those awful visions would not come to pass.

Whatever it takes, Ruby had said; sometimes, you had to sacrifice someone, or you would lose everything, Professor Ozpin had said; they would die, and there was nothing she could do about it, Salem had said. To which Sunset replied ‘no.’ She would not admit it. It was not in boldness that she spoke, not in vanity, but in… in desperation. She would do whatever it took… whatever it took to make sure that ‘whatever it takes’ did not come to pass.

She loved them, and though she loved not wisely but too well, that did not invalidate her love, and for those feelings… she would do things that would make them blanch to think of.

Speaking of loving not wisely but too well, Rainbow Dash was kneeling on the floor.

Sunset’s steps sounded heavy as she approached her.

“I know what you saw,” she murmured.

“Of course you do, I told you,” Rainbow muttered.

“I could have guessed anyway.”

“Because you’re a mind-reader like she is?”

“No,” Sunset said patiently. “Because what do you think I saw?”

Rainbow looked up at her, mouth slightly open.

Sunset snorted. “What else would I be afraid of?”

“Being forgotten?” Rainbow suggested.

“Jerk,” Sunset growled. “You think I prize fame or glory over the lives of my friends?”

“No,” Rainbow murmured. “No, I guess not.”

Sunset knelt down in front of her. “It’s not going to happen,” she said. “Your friends will not perish, nor my friends, nor your teammates. None of them.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I won’t let it, and neither will you,” Sunset declared fiercely.

Rainbow glanced down at the filthy ground beneath them. “Sunset… what you said last night-”

“Forget last night; it’s not important right now-”

“I failed the entrance exam for Canterlot,” Rainbow admitted. “I didn’t… I didn’t make the grade. Literally.”

“I… I didn’t know that,” Sunset murmured.

“Not something I’m keen to shout about,” Rainbow muttered. “I was admitted through personal recommendation.”

“General Ironwood,” Sunset said softly.

Rainbow nodded. “Why did I get this position, Sunset?”

Sunset blinked. “Because you’re General Ironwood’s golden girl.”

“And why is that?” Rainbow pressed.

Sunset grinned facetiously. “Because he’s a terrible judge of character?”

“Sunset,” Rainbow growled, in a serious tone.

“Okay then, you tell me the answer.”

“Because I saved Twilight one time,” Rainbow said. “Because I was in the right place to do something when she was in trouble. I chased off a couple of small-time hoods. That’s it. Everything else has flowed from that. Twilight’s family took me in, I met General Ironwood, he took me under his wing, and why? Not because I passed any tests, not because I have special powers… because I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Lucky you,” Sunset said. “That shows that you had a stroke of political luck; it doesn’t prove that you lack courage or ability.”

“I’m a fake.”

“I defy anyone who has seen you send Adam Taurus running with his tail between his legs to call you a fraud!” Sunset snapped. “What you have done…” She trailed off, because accomplishment wasn’t really the point, was it?

“I get it,” Sunset said. “Girls like us will do amazing things to be seen, won’t we? My whole life… I always felt I deserved more, and you wouldn’t have been in that right place at that right time for your stroke of political good fortune if you had not felt the same. We do what we must, we do whatever we can, to carve out great gilded lives for ourselves that do not humiliate us to live. And then… in this world that seems determined to ignore and to belittle us, in this world that regards us as a problem that it does not want, we enjoy such good fortune, we are so very blessed, as to find those who see us as we are and embrace us in all our flaws. And so we need to protect them. I have to protect them because they mean the world to me, and I need your help to do it.”

“My help?”

“You’re the only one who understands,” Sunset said. “None of the rest of them understand, not even Pyrrha, but you… you understand, don’t you?”

Rainbow hesitated a moment, before she said, “They could replace us so easily; they don’t get that we could never replace them.”

“Precisely,” Sunset agreed. “So will you help me protect this great gilded space I have carved out for myself?” She held out her hand. “Will you help me, sister?”

Rainbow looked at Sunset’s hand, then at Sunset herself. “Are we sisters, Sunset?” she asked. She smiled, as she took Sunset’s hand. “I’d like that a lot.”

Sunset helped Rainbow to her feet, and clapped her on the shoulder. “We will rescue Applejack,” she promised. “And bring everyone back home safe.”

Whatever it takes.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter was pretty comprehensively rewritten, right down to a change of title, without much remaining the same except elements of Jaune's speech.

Renown (Rewritten)

Renown

Cinder looked down upon the abomination below her.

It had not noticed her presence, nor that of her associates or Adam. Perhaps the dead White Fang members lying strewn across the street around it – they’d been wondering where that patrol had gotten to – had sated its appetite. Perhaps it simply wasn’t very observant.

Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that it hadn’t bothered to look up.

It was an ungainly sight. It was something that revolted her to look upon.

It was something that might prove useful to her.

“Wh-what is that thing?” Emerald murmured, her voice trembling.

“I have no idea,” Cinder admitted candidly. It looked a little like a grimm, and yet at the same time, it was not a grimm. She knew that it was not a grimm because, if it was a grimm, she would know it. She would feel, even if only a little, the song that bound the creatures of destruction together, feel their connection through the blessing that she had received.

She did not feel it. There was no connection here. This creature, however much it might resemble grimm, did not feel the song of death and mayhem. There was no connection there.

She could not command it. But she could make good use of it all the same.

Adam placed one hand upon the hilt of his sword. “How do we kill it?”

Cinder glanced at him. “'Kill it'? Why would we do such a thing?”

“Why?” Adam growled. “It killed my men!” He gestured at their remains with one hand.

And I will kill far more than any monster could, Cinder thought. She wondered how Adam would react when he figured that out. Not well, perhaps, which was why he might be better off dead within the depths of Mountain Glenn. But, on the other hand, a man like him could be manipulated despite his anger; so long as he still desired Blake or revenge or some twisted combination of the two, then Cinder would be able to wrap him around her fingers - not effortlessly perhaps, recent events had proven there were unfortunate depths to him she had not been aware of; nevertheless she would still be able to turn him to her purposes - no matter how drenched she was in the blood of the Vale Chapter.

Gilda would not prove so accommodating.

Of course, the chances were she would be done with the White Fang after today, which was why she was willing to throw Adam into the path of harm, but one never knew.

That was why she had allowed him to accompany her and her team: he was safer here than he was on the train.

“Your men,” she told him, “gave their lives for the cause of the White Fang, but if you wish that cause to flourish and a victory be gained worthy of their sacrifice, then we must see the plan through to the end and not be distracted again by our personal feelings.”

“How is that a part of the plan?” Mercury asked, gesturing at the creature.

“It wasn’t,” Cinder replied. “But now, it’s a wonderful new addition to our ranks and just what we need to break up our enemies.”

Although she would pit her chosen servants against most of Ozpin’s lackeys any day, and although the ranks of Team SAPR and Team RSPT were padded out with deadweight like Jaune and Twilight, nevertheless, the fact remained that they were outnumbered two to one, even with Adam’s presence, and those two included formidable fighters like Pyrrha, whom only Cinder herself could hope to withstand, while her one included Emerald, whose strength lay more in her semblance than in her skill in arms. It would have been… a chaotic battle, to say the least. Possibly a somewhat desperate one.

She had considered bringing in grimm to even out the scales, but now… destiny had smiled once more on Cinder Fall and provided her the means to break up the ranks of her enemies.

“Once our enemies come across this creature, they will be wary of it,” Cinder declared. “They will not simply attack it head on. They’ll split up, sending…” She paused for thought. She could put herself in Sunset’s shoes, she could put herself in Sunset’s mind, and with all that she had learned about her friend, she could practically predict what the other girl would do when confronted with an enemy like this. “They will send Pyrrha around behind it to attack it from two sides, while the Atlesians attempt to gain higher ground from which they can fire their big guns. So take up your positions, be careful not to draw that monster’s attention, and wait.”

There was a grimm blocking their way.

A single grimm, it didn’t even appear to have noticed them yet, and yet, its mere presence standing in the middle of the street was entirely halting the onward progress of Teams SAPR and RSPT.

The fact that it was so unusual in appearance might have had something to do with that.

It wasn’t so much the fact that it was a type of grimm they hadn’t encountered before, or even that it was a kind of grimm that hadn’t been mentioned by Professor Port yet – although either of those instances would have been cause to take a moment and reflect on strategy. No, it was the fact that – and Pyrrha could only speak for herself at this point, but judging by the expressions of the others she wasn’t alone – it was so far outside the bounds of what one expected a grimm to look like that was perturbing her.

It looked like a cross between a beowolf and an ursa, as though those monsters were capable of interbreeding with one another and had produced this hybrid. It had the long, almost ape-like arms, lithe-ish limbs, and nipped-in waist of a beowolf in contrast to the more solid, trunk-like form of an ursa, but on the other hand, for size, it had much more in common with the ursine creature while not possessing the markers of age – particularly the multitude of encrusted armour plates – that would have marked it as an alpha that had temporarily misplaced its pack.

But none of that was truly disconcerting about this creature that had suddenly thrown itself athwart their line of approach. Nor even was it the dead White Fang members at the monster’s feet or the red blood on its teeth and claws that left no doubt as to how these warriors had died.

No, what was most strange about this beowolf – and what was giving the members of SAPR, RSPT, and even Professor Goodwitch the most pause – was, and the fact that it sounded a little absurd when stated so baldly did not make it any less true, the colour.

This grimm was green. Not all over – the bulk of its body was still the same tar black as always – the spikes upon its back that ought to have been as white as bone now glowed a luminescent green in the darkness under Mountain Glenn; in place of red eyes, a pale green light shone out of every orifice of the creature’s skull, even its open mouth, as though it were one of those – rather tasteless, in Pyrrha’s opinion – grimm-themed novelty nightlights that you could buy.

Green lines that had no equivalent on any grimm that Pyrrha had encountered or read about glowed up and down the creature’s body as though it were filled with some unstable power or concoction that its form could not quite contain.

And so, Team SAPR, Team RSPT, Blake, and Professor Goodwitch all lurked out of its sight – and fortunately, they were also out of its sense of smell as well, the air here being still and stale in a manner that was intensely uncomfortable, but also, in this instance, beneficial – around the corner of a street of blocky accommodations, watching the strange creature, and as they watched, it bent its back and lowered its head to the ground to continue feeding upon the corpses of those faunus it had slain.

It was disgusting to watch, and yet, for the moment, they had no choice but to observe it.

“So, uh,” Jaune murmured, “does anyone know what that is?”

“Nope,” Ruby said.

“Never seen anything like it,” Rainbow muttered.

“I don’t recognise it as any grimm documented,” Penny declared.

“Nor has it featured in any bestiary I have ever come across,” added Ciel.

“Professor?” Sunset said. “Any wisdom to share with us?”

“Unfortunately not,” Professor Goodwitch said softly. “Beyond the fact that it is clearly a grimm… I’ve never seen one quite like this before.”

“We could probably go around it,” Blake said. “We didn’t come here to fight grimm, after all.”

“Maybe we could, but what if it comes after us?” Sunset asked. “Do you want that thing coming up behind us while we’re distracted?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Good point.”

“The enemy already knows we’re here,” Sunset said. “A little more shooting won’t tell them anything that they don’t know already. I say we kill this thing now, and we won’t have to worry about it later.”

She glanced around, as if she were searching for objections. Pyrrha didn’t offer any; she found nothing to object to in Sunset’s reasoning: just because this grimm – it was a grimm, whatever else it might be – hadn’t noticed them at the moment, there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t do so later, especially if the conflict of battle drew it in. If they could deal with it now, then they might as well do so, while they had nothing else to distract them.

“Rainbow Dash,” Sunset said. “Take Ciel and Penny-”

“Up to the top floor of one of those houses where they can nail it from above,” Rainbow finished. “I’m not perfect, Sunset, but I understand a crossfire.”

As signals go, it’s quite unmistakable, I suppose.

“I’ll stay here,” Blake added. “I’m not much of a long-range fighter. I might as well stick where I’m best suited.”

Rainbow nodded. “Fine. Good luck.”

“You, too,” Blake replied. “All three of you.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha added.

“I hope I do better than I did against that other grimm up top,” Penny murmured.

“That wasn’t your fault, Penny,” Ruby said. “If you hadn’t been protecting me from that falling debris, you’d have been fine.”

“And besides,” Pyrrha added, “we were caught by surprise then. Surprise is on our side now.” She smiled. “It won’t know what hit it when you open fire.”

Penny’s face lit up a little at the prospect of that, and she seemed cheered as she, Ciel, and Rainbow Dash crept their way across the street to the other side of the road. The green grimm didn’t appear to spot them as they slunk out of sight, into the dark and shadowy building that lay beyond.

“Pyrrha, Jaune,” Sunset said. “Go into this building and see if you can get around behind it. Once the Atlesians start shooting, we’ll attack it from two sides.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I understand.” She tapped the button on the butt of Miló once, transforming it from its rifle configuration into the stealthier spear; with good fortune, she wouldn’t have to fire – and thus alert this particularly strange grimm to her presence – until she was in position for the ambush. “Good luck.”

“And you,” Sunset said, with a terse nod of her own before she looked away from Pyrrha and returned her attention to the feeding grimm up the street.

Pyrrha moved, trusting Jaune to follow as she crept along the side of the tower behind which they had taken cover and searched for a way in. This wasn’t a suburban home of the kind that they had slept in last night; it wasn’t even a row of terraces; rather, here in the underground city, it seemed as though every building climbed upwards and climbed high; this place was a hive of dark monoliths reaching towards the surface, a place where people must have lived like ants or termites or rats, all jammed together as tightly packed as could be managed.

Pyrrha was not naïve. She knew that not everybody lived in the spacious luxury in which she had grown up and which the other wealthy families of Mistral enjoyed; she knew that not everywhere was as pleasant to live as Mistral, even for the less well-off of its citizens – Arslan had some veritable horror stories in that regard, though she seemed to find them rather amusing.

But Pyrrha couldn’t understand why anyone would voluntarily live like this, packed into airless boxes, deep underground where there was no natural light, surrounded by walls of rock on either side; this city had been a prison even before the grimm had laid it to waste. There might have been life here, but Pyrrha could see no evidence that there had ever been any freedom.

It was hard not to think of the slaughter that those monsters had wrought as being but the last and most fatal of the indignities suffered by those unfortunate enough to live beneath Mountain Glenn.

She turned a corner, putting her on the opposite side of the building as the grimm, and found a door, cheap and plastic looking, but reasonably intact in the circumstances. It hadn’t been blocked; at Pyrrha’s slightest touch, it swung open to reveal a dusty corridor, lined with apartment doors on the left side, heading north; an elevator that didn’t appear to be working any more; and a narrow staircase leading to the next floor up.

Pyrrha stood in the doorway for a moment, considering.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune said softly from behind her. “Is everything okay?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I… I would never have broken my promise to you, no matter how much I might have wished to. You do know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” Jaune replied. “I know that you’re not your mom, to lie to me about something like that.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I am definitely not my mother.” She glanced over shoulder. “And I… I will never lie to you about anything.” Perhaps that was rashly said, binding her word in a manner too extravagant, but as she said it, she could not think of any reason why she should not say it, why she should have any cause at all, at any time, to lie to Jaune.

And so, she promised with a light heart and relished the fact that this was one thing that she could do with a light heart, when all else in Mountain Glenn seemed to weigh down upon her so heavily.

Her brow furrowed a little as the unwanted memory returned, the memory of the vision that Salem had shown her: her home aflame, the very fountain choked with blood.

Her home burning because she had not been strong enough to save it.

How could she be strong enough, being as she was a mere girl blessed with some combat talent? How could she be strong enough to contend with the powers with which they were in opposition? She didn’t have Sunset’s magic, she didn’t even have Ruby’s silver eyes; all that she had was her renown, half of it hard-won in the arena, true, but the other half inherited nearly without effort from the line of her ancestors.

She had always told herself that her fame as the heir to the throne would have been as nothing had she not also shown herself prodigiously talented in the arena, but even if that hopeful analysis were true… the Invincible Girl was just a name; it did not convey upon her any power.

There was only one individual in Remnant who could truly be called invincible, and she was their enemy.

The Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the Pride of Mistral, the Evenstar… these names were baubles, every bit as much as her tournament trophies and the spoils that she had dedicated in the Temple of Victory.

She had accepted the great honour that was done to her by Professor Ozpin, she had embraced the destiny that she had always believed was hers.

Yet now, she feared that she was unequal to it.

She had thought it her destiny to save the world. Which, by her own conception of destiny, meant nothing more nor less than that she would choose to save the world, as though its salvation was entirely in her gift, and she would only need to decide to do so and apply herself to that great task and all would be as she desired.

How proud, how vain, how arrogant. What hubris on par with the ambition that had built this silent tomb.

She could only pray that her arrogance would not cost as many lives as this monument to excess pride.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune said. “You looked like you were kind of spacing out a little bit.”

“Sorry,” Pyrrha said, a little more loudly than she needed to. She laughed nervously and looked at him. Looking at Jaune, looking into his blue eyes, definitely helped. His very presence was like a wind, blowing away her misgivings. The memory of his arms around her, of his kiss, of the tenderness of his touch, banished the memory of Salem’s vision and her words.

Even if it did make her feel a little flustered as a trade-off.

More to the point, Jaune reminded her of something that – in yet more arrogance – she might have been inclined to forget otherwise: she was not alone. She did not have to worry about being strong enough to defy Salem and all her power by herself because she was not fighting by herself. She had her friends to fight beside her.

And Jaune, whom she had promised to never send from her side, though it cost him his life to remain.

That… that would grieve her. Even in death, she thought; if it was her fate to die, her destiny unfulfilled, if it was her lot in life to depart in anger down to the shades, then she would not have Jaune so swiftly follow her down. If they could not live and love amongst the living in the living world, then she would not accept an unlife spent together in the afterlife as recompense. Rather, if the gods decreed that she would die, she would have Jaune live on and dry his tears and find what happiness he could in the arms of another. Ruby, perhaps; she was warm and caring and believed in Jaune wholeheartedly; she had been his friend from the start. Certainly, she was a better choice for him than Sunset, without any offence to Sunset.

No, Ruby… Ruby would be good for him, if need be. Perhaps Pyrrha ought to write her a note, as Sunset had- no, no that was not a very good idea, Pyrrha thought to herself as she remembered how embarrassed she and Sunset had been after she, Pyrrha, had found Sunset’s note. How much worse would it be if Ruby found such a note from Pyrrha?

And besides, there were limits to Pyrrha’s generosity, and writing to encourage Ruby to… she scarcely knew how to describe it, but she thought that it might well breach those limits.

And besides, she intended to try quite hard not to die.

For her sake, for Jaune’s, and for the sake of everything that she hoped to share with him in the future that she hoped so very much lay ahead for them.

There were some superstitious folk who believed that writing a will tempted fate. The same, it seemed to Pyrrha, might be said of writing a letter to be opened in the event of your death.

Salem might be immortal, but there were only men and grimm here under Mountain Glenn, and she could handle men and grimm alike.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised again. “We should move.”

They entered the house, moving past the elevator and down the dusty corridor; they ignored the stairs; since they were not going to engage the grimm from higher ground, there would be no point in going up unless the way forward were blocked. It was not so.

At least, that was what Pyrrha thought before one of the apartment doors that lined the corridor swung open to partially bar their path.

Cinder Fall stepped daintily around the door, her ankle bracelet swaying slightly back and forth as she walked with the silence of a thief and the grace of a lioness.

Her glass blades were in her hand, and her smile seemed almost like another blade, one fused to her face, a grin that was almost manic in its intensity.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she purred. “I hoped it would be you, Pyrrha. Long have I desired to match my skill against you.”

Pyrrha breathed in, and out. “You could have sought me out in combat class,” she pointed out.

Cinder chuckled. “Without- no, that is not true, I do mean to offend you, I am afraid – please forgive me – but I have always found that sparring in class or fighting in the arena is rather… boring. Sanitised. It lacks the frisson of excitement that comes from lives on the line, from knowing that nobody is going to stop the match when your aura gets into the red. From knowing that your aura is all that stands between you and oblivion.”

Pyrrha’s feet shuffled on the floor as she readied herself. “I do not agree with that, but I must confess that I, too, am glad. I, too, have wished to face you. And the current circumstances are ideal.”

“'Ideal'?” Cinder asked.

“Sunset isn’t here to get in our way,” Pyrrha explained.

Once more Cinder laughed. “No,” she agreed. “No, she is not.” She paused, and as she paused, the booming sound of Unfailing Loyalty echoed through the city of the dead. “And by the sounds of it,” Cinder went on, “nobody else will either. Your friends have battles of their own to fight, it seems.”

“Then I had best finish this quickly,” Pyrrha growled.

“Don’t let your vanity blind you, Pride of Mistral,” Cinder warned. “For I am Cinder Fall, chosen of the dark, and I will make you my factor and pluck all the renown and honours off your brow and take them for my own!” She raised her blades. “Now, show me how bright you burn, Evenstar!”

Pyrrha sprang at her, her red hair streaming out behind her like a standard as she leapt.

She had not lied. She had wanted this, and in this way, without Sunset to protest that she should hold back, or worse, to protect Cinder from Pyrrha’s swift and shining spear.

That was one reason why she wanted this: she feared Cinder for her influence on Sunset more than her strength in arms. There were other reasons, of course, to seek her out: she was an enemy, she had tried to kill Twilight, she had tried to bring down Beacon, she was in league with Salem – she was, in fact, Salem’s chief servant here in Vale. All good reasons why she, a huntress and a protector of the world, Professor Ozpin’s spear, should seek her out in battle. But as well as all those things, Cinder had corrupted Sunset, had turned her from the light and sought to drag her back into the dark where she had been when Pyrrha met her. She had encouraged Sunset to do cruel and spiteful things, and she had left such a mark on Sunset that even the revelation of her true allegiance could not divest Sunset of all affection for Cinder.

For Sunset’s sake, for the sake of the team, Pyrrha wished her dead.

And there was another reason also, one last reason why Pyrrha threw herself into this battle so eagerly: because she could win, and in the winning prove that she deserved a place in all of this, that she could be of some use to Professor Ozpin, that she was worthy to stand in this arena that was so broad and where the stakes were so high.

If she could win this battle, then she could conquer her doubts and lay them to rest alongside Cinder.

That, all of that, was why she hurled herself upon her foe with such ferocity. The corridor was cramped, but Pyrrha nevertheless found space to spin upon her toe with a ballerina’s grace, her scarlet sash flowing around her like a dancer’s ribbon, and fling Akoúo̱ down the corridor at Cinder.

Cinder was still smiling as she ducked aside, allowing Akoúo̱ to fly, spinning, down the corridor away from her.

Pyrrha closed the distance, wielding Miló in spear form in both hands, her spear a whirling circle of gold and red as she spun it in her grasp, thrusting it for Cinder’s midriff.

Cinder turned the stroke aside with one of her glass scimitars, but she retreated a step as well. Pyrrha drove her back, unrelenting in the ferocity of her onslaught, striking at Cinder again and again like the waves that beat upon the shore. Cinder gave ground before her, but always, she was able to keep up with Pyrrha’s swift strokes, for every time that Pyrrha thrust or slashed with Miló, Cinder was able to fend her off with the glass blades of Midnight.

Pyrrha’s face was set like stone, her eyes as hard as emeralds as she drove Cinder back, thrusting, lunging, slashing. Cinder, by contrast, was still grinning.

Pyrrha thrust Miló forward for Cinder’s face.

Cinder caught the stroke between her blades, stopping the movement of Pyrrha’s spear.

She was still smiling.

The smile faltered a little as Pyrrha transformed Miló into rifle mode, with the barrel poking out from between Cinder’s swords.

Pyrrha fired, hitting Cinder squarely between the eyes, hurling her backwards. Cinder converted her fall into a backflip, then another, putting a little distance between the two of them.

She was not smiling now.

As Miló formed back into spear mode in her right hand, Pyrrha raised her left and summoned Akuou back out of the murky depths of the corridor, flying straight and true and aimed for the back of Cinder’s head.

Cinder caught the shield with one hand, reaching out to arrest its progress, but she could not resist looking at it, and as she looked, Pyrrha was on her once again. She slammed the shaft of Miló into Cinder’s gut and then, when she doubled over, her face. She brought down the tip of the spear upon her back and raised and drew back Miló for a thrust.

Cinder threw Pyrrha’s own shield back at her. Pyrrha caught it on her arm, Akoúo̱ fitting itself to her vambrace with a practiced ease. Miló switched from spear to sword as she advanced, turning aside the stroke of Midnight and thrusting for Cinder’s eyes.

Cinder turned that stroke aside. Pyrrha pirouetted in place, slashing first with the edge of her shield and then with the edge of her sword. Cinder gave ground, one of her blades falling away, crumbling to shards of glass which glistened as they fell to the floor beneath her.

Cinder slammed her hand onto the outer wall of the apartment block.

The wall beneath and all around her hand began to glow bright yellow, getting brighter all the while.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried. “Look out!”

Too late. The wall exploded, debris blasting inwards, shards of stone and fragments of wood ripping into the corridor, tearing at Pyrrha’s aura like biting fleas upon an unclean dog. Worse than the debris, however, was the steam from the pipes that had obviously been built into the wall, and which – heated again after long last – burst out into the corridor, not only burning Pyrrha’s aura, not only making her cry out in pain, but blinding her as well, as all that she could see was consumed by milky whiteness.

She began to retreat, her shield held up before her chest and face.

Something erupted up from the floor, making her cry out again as it sliced into her aura.

“Something else you won’t learn in the coliseum,” Cinder snarled gleefully. “How to mind your surroundings!”

Pyrrha couldn’t see, and couldn’t hear over the hissing of the dispersing steam, and before it dissipated, Cinder had closed with her, her slashes wild but wildly ferocious, like she was carving slices off a butcher’s ham.

Except it was Pyrrha’s aura she was carving into as Cinder’s glass sword slammed into Pyrrha’s side. Pyrrha recoiled, trying to shield herself, but the next blow came in straight at her belly, powerful enough that she almost doubled over. Pyrrha slashed blindly with her sword in turn, but her stroke cut only through the empty air as Cinder’s blow – how could she see while Pyrrha was blind? – struck home for Pyrrha’s face and would have extinguished her eyes if her aura had not protected her.

“Behold, the Champion of Mistral!” Cinder cried, her voice somewhere between a triumphant crow and a furious snarl. “You’re not the one to bring me down. You’re just an old name and a pretty face!”

And a semblance, Pyrrha thought, as she reached out with Polarity to grasp the metal pipes embedded in the wall, all the pipes that Cinder had ruptured and those that she had not, all that metal lurking unseen.

I’m not the only one who needs to mind my surroundings, Cinder. Pyrrha couldn’t see the metal; she could barely see her own hand, with its black outline surrounding it, but she could feel the pipes, and she could start to hear them groaning as she wrenched at them with her semblance, pulling them, commanding them. They groaned, they creaked, they screamed in protest as she wrenched at their fittings and the concrete in which they were embedded, but finally, they came, tearing through the wall, spraying cold and stagnant water, showering the corridor with fragments of debris and slamming the pipes into Cinder hard enough to push her through the other wall into the apartments beyond.

The steam was dissipating now, and Pyrrha could see again. She switched Miló into spear form-

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried, running towards her, one hand held out. “Your aura, do you-?”

“Not yet,” Pyrrha told him. She wasn’t exactly sure where her aura was, but now wasn’t the time to let Jaune stimulate it back into the green, not when Cinder wasn’t beaten yet. All that would do was give her a sitting target.

She would win the battle first, then let Jaune work his magic.

“Stay here,” she told him, before darting through the doorway into the apartment into which she had just thrown Cinder. Pipes littered the floor, crushing the coffee table which had sat in the middle of the room and wrecking the chairs besides.

Cinder was waiting for her, standing amidst the shattered pipes, a glass bow in her hands. As Pyrrha appeared, she loosed a shaft. Pyrrha swatted it aside, shattering the glass arrow in the edge of her shield. She rushed forward, spear drawn back-

Something struck her from behind. The arrow – but she had broken it? Whatever it was, the force of the impact knocked her temporarily off balance, and in that moment, Cinder counted, her glass weapon changing from bow to blades once again with a fluidity that would have done any mechashift proud, her twin obsidian scimitars slicing up to strike at Pyrrha’s exposed belly.

Pyrrha grunted with pain, and with her semblance, she shuffled the broken pipes across the floor, disturbing Cinder’s footing, making her stumble as Cinder had made Pyrrha stumble, and as she stumbled, Pyrrha flung her shield, striking Cinder on the forehead.

Cinder’s head snapped backwards. Miló whirled in Pyrrha’s hands as she brought it down.

Cinder took the blow upon her wrist, the other hand grabbing hold of Miló by the golden shaft. She was leaning backwards, knees bent, the smile gone from her expression, which was now a scowl of effort to hold Pyrrha at bay. Her arms shook as Miló pressed down upon her.

For her own part, Pyrrha was scowling too as she pushed down upon her spear, exerting all her strength to break down Cinder’s guard.

She was not just an ancient name. She was not just a laundry list of airy titles. She was not just a pretty face. She was strong and well-trained in equal measure, and Cinder would feel both!

She would have pulled away and reversed her stroke, but Cinder’s grip on Miló was too tight. Very well then, she would have to force her way through.

Embers began to float around her like motes of dust.

Pyrrha looked down at the floor, which was glowing a fiery yellow beneath her feet.

The smile returned to Cinder’s face.

The floor exploded beneath Pyrrha before she could react. A scream tore from Pyrrha’s throat as the flames washed over her, the heat engulfed her, the light blinded her, and heat and fire alike consumed her aura as she was hurled up and backwards through the air, hurled through the wall and into the next room, hurled to the floor in a heap with a thud and a crunch, her red hair pooling around her head.

The Champion of Mistral. The voice in her head sounded like mockery. Her aura hadn’t broken, not yet, but-

A wordless shout from Jaune echoed in her ears.

Jaune wasn’t sure who he was more mad at right now.

Okay, he was more mad at Cinder, obviously, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t kind of upset at Pyrrha too.

She had promised. She had promised! She had just reassured him like five seconds ago that she wasn’t going to break that promise, and what had she done?

Well, okay, she hadn’t technically broken the promise – she hadn’t left him behind or sent him away – but fighting a battle without him, didn’t that count, sort of? A little?

He hadn’t objected. He hadn’t told her to stop. He had… he had stood there and watched and even kind of looked forward to watching Cinder get her ass kicked – God knew she had it coming – without Sunset there to get in the way. He hadn’t objected until things had stopped going the way that he had thought they would go.

And now, Pyrrha was screaming. He hadn’t thought that he would ever hear a sound like that. He never wanted to hear a sound like that again, and it was…

Jaune found that he wasn’t nearly so angry at Pyrrha as he was at himself. She hadn’t even told him to stay back until after the fight was halfway through; she hadn’t told him to help, but she hadn’t told him not to either. He had stayed back of his own volition because he knew that he wasn’t in the same league as her or Cinder, he knew that he’d only end up getting in her way, he knew that he ought to stand aside and let her handle it.

Except that she couldn’t handle it. Not on her own.

Maybe if she had a better partner…

Well, she didn’t. She had him. And if he wasn’t on the same level as her, if he wasn’t able to stand up to Cinder Fall, then he at least could give her something else to think about.

And so, he charged, shield held before him, Crocea Mors raised above his head, howling wordlessly, crying out his anger, crying for courage, his tread heavy and thudding like a drumbeat as he rushed through the broken wall straight at Cinder.

The shield is a weapon, not something to hide behind. That was one of Pyrrha’s first and most persistent lessons to him, and so, as he closed with her, Jaune sought to hit her with his shield, lashing out with it in a sideways swiping motion.

Cinder dodged it, her body moving with willowy flexibility.

Jaune slashed at her with his sword.

Cinder caught Crocea Mors in one hand, her fingers closing around the metal of the blade.

Jaune tried to pull the sword free – and hopefully take off a slice of her aura into the bargain – but it would not budge. Cinder’s grip upon his weapon was too tight.

He tried again to hit her with the shield, but she grabbed that with her free hand and held that as tight and immobile as his sword.

His sword which was starting to glow. No, not glow; it was starting to heat up, the metal getting hotter and hotter, the glow of said heat spreading out from Cinder’s palm up and down the venerable blade.

Jaune tried again to tug it free. It would not move.

Cinder squeezed.

And Crocea Mors, the sword of heroes, the venerable blade that his great-grandfather had carried through a hundred battles or more, the heirloom of the Arc family, shattered into fragments, shards of broken metal which fell to clatter to the floor at his feet.

Jaune was left holding a hilt with a broken stump of a blade attached.

Jaune’s eyes were wide with shock. It broke? It broke? He’d broken the ancestral weapon of his family?

Now of all times?

Can I not catch a break just once?

“Oh, come on!” he yelled.

Cinder, meanwhile, was looking at him, and with undisguised irritation too. Her amber eyes smouldered angrily. “Stand still,” she snapped, “and wait for orders from your betters.” She hit him in the face with the palm of her hand, hard enough to knock Jaune off his feet and land him on his back. “You who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate.” She planted one foot upon his chest, pressing down upon him hard enough to pin him to the floor. Cinder cocked her head to one side as she regarded him.

“What does she see in you?” she asked.

There was no answer but Pyrrha’s furious war cry as she rejoined the battle, her red sash flying.

Pyrrha had underestimated Cinder. Or she had overestimated herself. Or both. Either way, she might not be able to best her in arms, she might not be able to finish this battle as she had wished, but she would not, by all the gods of Mistral she would not, permit Cinder to do any harm to Jaune.

Not while she lived. She would sooner die and give Jaune up into Ruby’s small, pale hands than let any harm come to him while she drew breath.

She was afraid for Jaune, she was angry at herself for letting things come to this, and she was incandescently furious at Cinder for daring, for presuming, for dreaming to threaten sweet brave Jaune while Pyrrha lived.

You will deal with me first, or while I live, I’ll give you cause to regret that you did otherwise!

Her fury lent her strength beyond her diminished aura as she physically collided with Cinder, wrapping her arms around Cinder’s waist, hurling her off Jaune and slamming her head-first into the ground. She threw her enemy aside, hard enough to cast her out of the room, out through the broken outer wall and into the streets of Mountain Glenn beyond.

With Polarity, she summed Miló into her grip, the weapon changing fluidly to rifle form in her hands as she fired again and again, emptying the magazine at Cinder, who held out her hands to block the shots, suffering no visible hurt from them.

But damage to aura wasn’t visible, was it?

Pyrrha charged out after her into the street, lashing out with tip and shaft of Miló, first one and then the other. Cinder parried with her blades of glass, but she had to be close to the end now, surely?

She had to be close to the end if Pyrrha was?

Just a little longer.

Pyrrha was distracted by the roar of the largest beowolf that she had ever seen, larger than the green creature on the other side of the street, larger than any ursa major that she had ever come across. A beowolf large enough that its head was level with the top of the apartment complex, and its fangs were each the size of a motorcycle.

And those fangs were bared as it advanced upon her, the street shaking with its tread.

Pyrrha leapt back, summoning Akoúo̱ into her off-hand, drawing back her spear.

But the beowolf was gone.

And so was Cinder.

“You are stronger than I gave you credit for, Pyrrha,” Cinder’s voice, insufferably smug, floated down from on high. “I hadn’t expected you to give me such a challenge. We should do this again sometime.”

Pyrrha looked up, her eyes darting across the dark skyline, searching above her for some – there! A flash of red, disappearing out of sight.

Pyrrha’s legs bent as she prepared to leap after her. If she could gain the roof-

“Pyrrha, wait!” Jaune cried, running to join her with his shield and scabbard and his sword – his broken sword, for which she felt a punch of guilt as strong as any blow Cinder had dealt her – sheathed there. He didn’t hesitate or ask her permission to raise his hand to her, a golden light spreading from his palm to spread across Pyrrha’s body. “You can’t just go off on your own.”

Pyrrha looked at him through the spreading golden light. Ordinarily, Jaune’s semblance felt so warm and gentle, an embrace of sunlight, comforting and renewing in equal measure. Now, it felt prickly, and a little cold, even by the standards of this place.

Was that because he was upset with her? Or because she was upset with herself?

“She’s getting away,” she said.

“We’ll see her again,” Jaune replied. “All of us. But right now, we shouldn’t get separated, and I think… I think our friends might use your help.”

All of us, because I couldn’t beat her on my own, Pyrrha thought bitterly. But he was right. They had heard shooting before, and although that had stopped now… she couldn’t just run off and leave everyone. “Of course,” she murmured. “Jaune, I-”

“We can talk about it later,” Jaune said.

“But your sword-”

“That’s not your fault,” he said. “And… I don’t know, maybe it can be repaired or something. Either way, we should get back.”

“Right,” Pyrrha said, and tried to put her guilt aside as she headed back inside, to find another way out into the street and whatever awaited them there.

But the cold, hard, uncomfortable fact lingered in her mind.

She had failed.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Obviously this chapter has been rewritten so that Pyrrha fights Cinder instead of Mercury, because it's a fault in the story that Pyrrha and Cinder never come to blows in spite of how much Cinder hates Pyrrha (and how much Pyrrha comes to sort of hate Cinder, as much as Pyrrha is capable of hating anyone).

Jaune's sword still breaks though.

Solid Skills (Rewritten)

Solid Skills

Rainbow Dash led the way.

Once they got into an elevated position to open fire on that grimm – if it was a grimm; position to open fire on whatever it was, anyway – then Penny and Ciel, with their long-range weapons, would be in a position to do all the work.

But before that, in the tight quarters of the building itself, they would be at a disadvantage. So Rainbow led the way, Unfailing Loyalty gripped tightly in her hands. Penny was behind her, with Ciel bringing up the rear.

Rainbow’s goggles were over her eyes, illuminating the darkness but doing so in shades of green.

She would have liked Blake to have come with them. She got why Blake hadn’t come with them – like Rainbow herself, she’d be a little useless once Ciel and Penny opened fire on their target – but if there was anything inside…

Rainbow’s ears drooped down into her many-coloured hair. If there was anything inside, she would deal with it herself.

Blake… Blake was a lot of things. Blake was smart, Blake was bold, Blake was righteous, Blake was inspiring; Blake was a lot more things than Rainbow was, but Rainbow didn’t need Blake to win a fight. She could do that just fine on her own.

That was one thing that she could do on her own.

Rainbow blinked as a vision rose to the forefront of her mind and had to be forcibly shoved back.

This mission had been… fraught, so far, in a lot of ways, and there were things that Rainbow wished hadn’t happened, but if she could only have changed one thing to have happened up until this point, it would have been Salem not showing her… face or whatever. Her tentacles. Salem not showing up at all would have been her choice.

Because Rainbow really hadn’t needed that right now. She hadn’t needed to see Atlas falling to the ground, crumbling as it descended, the tall glass towers toppling over and shattering into glittering fragments, the shadow over Low Town growing larger and larger until the ghetto beneath was obliterated by the weight of rock and metal crashing down upon it; she hadn’t needed to hear Fluttershy sobbing in terror, Rarity’s dying scream, Pinkie crying out for help; she hadn’t needed to hear Scootaloo begging for mercy. She hadn’t needed to see them die, one by one, by flames or fangs.

She hadn’t needed to be reminded that she was a fake.

“If Salem wants to kill my friends – if she wants Atlas – then she’s gonna have to go through me first. I’m in.”

That what was she’d said in the elevator, a couple of days ago now, when General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin had told everyone the truth about all this, about Salem, about what they were really up against. That was what Rainbow Dash had said, and now… and now that she had actually come face to face with Salem, she just felt really, really stupid.

'She’ll have to go through me first'? Seriously? As if that was going to be a problem for her.

Rainbow’s face twitched. She swore under her breath as she realised what she was doing. She couldn’t do that. She didn’t have time for that. She needed to focus. Her team was relying on her, Sunset was relying on her.

Ironic, since this was partly Sunset’s fault; what she’d said to Rainbow last night was mingling with the stuff that Salem had put into her mind, and it was all getting jumbled up, and she-

Rainbow swore under her breath again, more coarsely this time for extra emphasis. She really, really did not have time for this.

She had to focus. Focus on the fact that she could do this. Even Sunset had given Rainbow the credit that she was good at the things that she was good at, and this was one of them. And she wasn’t going up against Salem, she was going up against… she didn’t know what she might be going up against, but it was probably something mortal.

Something that would die if she shot or hit it enough times.

They reached the door in, or a door in. The building that lined the side of the street down which the green grimm stalked reminded Rainbow a lot of some of the better buildings in Low Town where she’d grown up; the construction values were arguably better, but it was the same kind of thing. She was expecting small apartments inside, not a lot of space.

She turned to Penny and Ciel behind her. “Okay, I’m going to go in first; you two are going to wait. When it’s clear, I’ll signal you to come in; don’t move until I say it’s clear.”

“What if you’re in trouble?” Penny asked.

“Then it’s not clear yet, and you need to wait until it is,” Rainbow informed her.

“But I-”

“It’s going to be tight in there, Penny,” Rainbow said. “Narrow corridors, small rooms; that’s not what you were built for.”

Penny frowned and pouted, but didn’t say anything. Ciel nodded her head silently.

Rainbow turned away from both of them, holding Unfailing Loyalty in one hand as she reached for the door handle with the other.

The door opened easily at her slightest touch. That was lucky, and a little suspicious.

Rainbow left Penny and Ciel waiting outside while she darted in. A long, narrow corridor ran down the ground floor of the building to her right, while directly in front of her was an elevator with an ‘out of order’ sign on the door which probably predated the fall of the city.

Rainbow kind of hoped so anyway, although if it didn’t… kudos to the janitors for commitment, she guessed.

There was a staircase next to the broken elevator.

Rainbow walked towards it, stepping gingerly across the tiled floor, wishing that she had a mask on against the amount of dust upon it – dust which she was stirring up.

There was no sign of anyone. There might be people in the rooms, hidden behind the closed doors on the left-hand side of the corridor, but so long as they stayed there, then they wouldn’t be any trouble for RSP.

Although, just to be on the safe side, Rainbow reached into a pouch at her belt and a took out a little gizmo that Twilight had come up with; it was about the size of a large marble, and it looked like one too, a glass sphere with a coloured ribbon forming a band within. What it actually was was a short range motion detector. Rainbow pressed down on with her fingers and thumb to activate it, then used the five-second activation delay to roll it down the corridor. It rumbled a little upon the floor tiles, but not much; you could barely hear it if you weren’t listening for it.

Now, if anyone would come down that corridor after they went upstairs, that sensor would start to scream the place down.

Unfortunately, she only had two to begin with, and that was one of them, so she would have to be smart about when to use the other one.

“Clear,” she hissed, retreating back towards the outer doorway and gesturing for Penny and Ciel to follow.

They did so, moving silently or as close to silently as they could get. Rainbow motioned with one hand for the two of them to wait at the foot of the stairs as Rainbow began to climb up them.

The stairs were even narrower than the corridor. Rainbow could imagine what it was like trying to get luggage up and down these stairs, and she could imagine that because she could remember what it was like trying to get luggage up and down narrow staircases. It was not fun. From what she could remember, it involved a lot of turning things on their sides and hoping that all your stuff didn’t break from being jangled and jumbled around.

The banister on the side of the stairs – almost unnecessary, with how tight it was; where was there to fall? – was wood, and the wood had claw marks on it. That was… something.

Still, at least that was the worst sign of any violence that they’d seen in here yet.

There was nothing on the stairs. There were no booby traps or tripwires, and when she got up onto the first floor, Rainbow checked the corridor and found, just like on the ground floor, there was nothing but a lot of closed doors on one side of the corridor as it advanced down the building.

And so it was with the second floor, as Rainbow advanced, calling Penny and Ciel to follow her once she knew that the coast was clear, until she got to the third floor, the highest floor, or at least the highest that the stairs went. There was a sign of a slope in the ceiling of the staircase, but even so, Rainbow wouldn’t have been surprised if there was at least some crawlspace up above for maintenance, pipes and stuff.

Nevertheless, that wasn’t somewhere they would be interested in going. This floor would be enough. From here, from one of the apartments on the left, Ciel and Penny could fire down upon the unknown grimm while being completely safe from its teeth and claws.

They just had to find a firing point now.

Probably somewhere in the middle of the complex; that would let them fire right down on it.

Leaving Penny and Ciel at the head of the stairs and rolling her second and last motion detector down the stairs to trigger if anyone started to come up after them, Rainbow moved down the corridor. She tried the first door on the left. It opened, revealing nothing but an empty room, abandoned in a hurry; the closet door had been left open, and stuff was strewn out of drawers as though people had been looking for the stuff they really wanted and leaving that which they could bear to abandon.

It was the same story with the next door. And the one after that. And the one after that. It was the same with every door which Rainbow checked: an empty room, abandoned – and abandoned in a hurry, what was more. Every room had been ditched, left in a mess as people grabbed what they could and ran.

That was the way it went when the grimm attacked. Official guidelines – at least in Atlas – said don’t bring anything at all, just run: run for the shelters, run for the airships, run for wherever it was the notices were telling you to run to. But people didn’t work like that: they ran, but not without grabbing a few things first. Sensible-seeming things, like lien cards, food, water, or a charge of clothes; sentimental things, like wedding photos or beloved toys for the children; things that were neither sensible nor sentimental, but which you grabbed anyway because you were out of your mind with panic and not thinking straight.

And that was your business, as long as you didn’t expect anyone to risk their lives to save you because you’d gotten into difficulty thanks to your mistake.

Anyway, the rooms were as Rainbow expected them to be, with all the signs of a rushed departure.

Until she came to the door that was locked.

That was not what Rainbow had expected. Yes, she supposed it wasn’t impossible that somebody had locked their apartment before they fled – people did strange things – but it wasn’t common in Rainbow’s experience. It was odd.

And because it was odd, it bothered her a little.

She hesitated, pondering what to do next. Not move on and ignore it. Something in her gut was telling her not to do that. Yes, it was possible the owner of the apartment had locked up before they ran away, but it was equally possible that someone had locked it from the inside. Not a grimm, but one of Cinder’s guys: Emerald, Mercury, or Lightning Dust.

Well, there was one way to have a look inside.

Rainbow glanced back down the corridor, to where Penny and Ciel were waiting. Ciel was beginning to look a little impatient. Rainbow ignored that. This wouldn’t take too long, and it didn’t sound as if they’d engaged the grimm down in the street yet.

She thought about asking them not to look, but that would sound really stupid, so Rainbow just hoped they weren’t paying that much attention as she got to work picking the lock. It wasn’t a skill that she advertised; in fact, Gilda was about the only person who knew she could do this and only because Gilda had taught her how in the first place. You picked up a few things, growing up where Rainbow had; she hadn’t been born in Atlas, after all.

All the same, she hoped that Ciel and Penny weren’t paying too much attention to what she was doing. It wasn’t exactly a respectable skill, and while Penny might not understand that, Ciel definitely would.

Not respectable at all.

But effective, Rainbow added mentally as the lock clicked and the door opened just a fraction.

Rainbow picked up Unfailing Loyalty where she had placed it down on the floor and pushed the door open with one hand. It opened silently, admitting her into a room that looked much like the others, had been abandoned much like the others, had a closet whose door was mostly shut, not quite like the others but nothing too unusual there.

Rainbow’s gaze swept the room, the barrel of Unfailing Loyalty trailing right and left. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

Everything… except for the copy of X-Ray and Vav #1 which was sitting on the table, clean and mostly dust free.

As if someone had been reading it and then-

Rainbow started to turn, bringing her shotgun to bear on the closet.

The closet door flew open as Mercury Black leapt out, his leg shooting out in a kick to knock the barrel of Unfailing Loyalty aside. The shotgun went off, blowing a hole in the wall. Rainbow growled wordlessly as she swung the butt of the weapon, hitting Mercury in the cheek with it, but as she tried to hit him, he grabbed the gun with both hands.

Unfailing Loyalty went off again, blowing some holes in the floor between their feet as they wrestled for the gun, tugging it this way and that. Rainbow headbutted Mercury, but he did not let go. He cut Rainbow’s legs out from under her with a sweeping kick, knocking her to the floor.

Mercury smirked as he raised one boot to descend upon her face.

Rainbow rolled, sweeping Mercury’s other leg – the one that he was standing on – aside and dumping him down on the floor next to her. Rainbow grabbed him, meaning to get him in a headlock, but Mercury’s boots fired with a pair of loud bangs, and Mercury shot forward, propelled along the floor by the recoil out of Rainbow’s grasp.

The two leapt for their feet. Rainbow reached for her machine pistols. Mercury jumped up into the air, levelling his legs to fire two more shots which forced Rainbow to roll out of the way, ending up back in the doorway. She knelt, using the door as cover as she drew Brutal Honesty and fired a burst of bullets in his direction.

He didn’t flinch, she had to give him that; he took it on the chin – or in the chest – and barely let on that it was even denting his aura, let alone hurting him. He rushed her, though she fired again, and launched himself in a flying kick for the door that was her cover.

Rainbow rolled again, back into the room and out of sight of the corridor as Mercury’s powerful kick struck the door and half turned it into the kindling as the weapon in his boot fired. He turned, moving with the grace of a dancer on the stage, spinning on his toe, arms out for balance as he aimed a spinning kick at Rainbow’s head.

Rainbow hit the deck to let his leg pass harmlessly above her, before launching herself upwards to grab his leg – it felt weirdly hard to her touch – and, with all her strength, pick him and hurl him over her shoulder – his head hit the ceiling on the way – and face-first into the floor.

She aimed Brutal Honesty at him.

Mercury fired off his boots. The first one passed harmlessly between her face and her shoulder, but the second one hit her in the ankle, drawing a yelp out of her as she dropped to one knee.

Mercury pushed himself off his hands into the air, squirming there like a salmon leaping out of the river so that he landed on his feet, facing her.

There was anger in his grey eyes, but also wariness on his face as well. His first kick knocked Brutal Honesty out of her hand.

His second came for her face.

Rainbow concentrated her remaining aura – she thought she probably still had most of it left – in the palms of her hands as she caught his booted foot between them, taking the impact of the kick and the shot from his boots alike. It wasn’t great, but she’d had worse. It didn’t feel anything like as hard as taking Adam’s sword on her arm had felt back at the docks.

Outside, Penny screamed.

“Should we do something?” Penny asked, as they heard Rainbow’s shotgun go off inside the room that Rainbow had just entered.

“Rainbow Dash’s instructions were quite clear,” Ciel reminded her, her voice cool and collected. “We are not to enter until the room has been declared clear. Sounds of fighting are evidence that the room is not clear. Ergo, we will remain here as instructed.”

“'As instructed'?” Penny replied. “But Rainbow Dash-”

“Is our leader, chosen by General Ironwood himself to carry out this task,” Ciel declared. “We do not always see eye to eye, but her record in combat speaks for itself. She will prevail.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“Then what makes you think you or I could fare any better in the circumstances?” Ciel asked.

Penny pouted. It wasn’t fair. Even if there were things that she couldn’t do, situations where she wasn’t at her best, then, well… that wasn’t fair either! She had been created to save the world, that was what General Ironwood had said, that was what her father had said, and even if her father had been ignorant and General Ironwood had had to lie and she couldn’t literally save the world because Salem couldn’t be killed, then surely she should still be able to take on most bad guys, right? If she was supposed to be Atlas’s great new hope, its wonder weapon, then why did she have to stand out here like… like… she would ask Ruby or Pyrrha for some examples of people who had to stand outside in corridors later, but why did she have to stand out in this corridor while Rainbow Dash fought all by herself?

If I’m so great, why do they treat me like a baby?

And if I’m not so great, then… then what’s the point of me?

She had been created to save the world, that was what they’d told her. That wasn’t true. Nobody could save the world: not her, not Pyrrha, not Ruby, not all of them together and the whole Atlesian fleet. But surely, she could do something? She could fight, and she could win. She could protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. She could stand alongside her friends.

Except she couldn’t. Because they would never let her.

When everyone was in the forest when that exercise went wrong, Pyrrha and Rainbow Dash went to rescue Ruby and the others, but they didn’t take Penny with them. No, Rainbow told her to stay behind while he took Team Tsunami with them! It seemed that she trusted the Great and Powerful Trixie more than she trusted her own teammate!

And now, she was making Penny stand outside while she fought because she didn’t need Penny’s help for this.

What was the point of her? Yes, there was only one of her, and something might have happened to her in the forest, but there was only one Pyrrha Nikos as well, and nobody had told her that she shouldn’t go help her friends in case something happened to her! Sunset wasn’t telling Pyrrha to hang back because she was too valuable or because she wasn’t suited for this or that.

Because Pyrrha was the real deal, and Penny… Penny was only-

“Penny!” Ciel hissed.

Penny turned to face her. “What?”

“I think I can…” Ciel frowned. “I thought that I heard-”

A part of the ceiling just behind them exploded as a large, dark figure dropped down right behind Ciel. Ciel turned, too slowly as the figure – Lightning Dust, one of Cinder’s teammates, whose height and muscular build made Ciel seem slight by comparison – grabbed the barrel of Distant Thunder with one hand – the rifle boomed out once, blowing a hole in the wall but doing nothing to Lightning Dust – and Ciel herself by the other.

Lightning rippled across Lightning’s body; she was wearing a black bodysuit, with some kind of heavy backpack strapped across her chest, and from the pack emerged tubes filled with yellow liquid that bubbled away as it flowed through the tubes from the pack into her arms and legs. The yellow liquid seemed to bubble faster as the lightning crackled across her body and spread from her arms up the barrel of Distant Thunder and across Ciel, making her cry out, making her whole body spasm in shock as Lightning threw her aside, tossing her down the stairs where she fell, head over heels, crashing and thumping.

Rainbow’s motion detector began to scream as Ciel landed in a heap beside it.

“No!” Penny yelled, and as she yelled, the swords of Floating Array emerged from out of her own backpack, forming a tight halo around her. There wasn’t room in this tight corridor to spread them out further, but that didn’t matter because she only had one target, and she was locked on!

Her swords retracted into carbine configurations as she opened up with all her lasers.

Green blasts erupted from the muzzles of her weapons, all of them leaping straight towards Lightning Dust where she stood, wreathed in lightning, which snapped and crackled as it travelled up and down her muscular body.

She smirked and raised one hand.

Lightning burst there in great intensity, a miniature storm brewing in the palm of her hand, lightning rippling out beyond her fingertips.

She stood there, one arm out and steadied by the other, as the laser beams of Floating Array descended on her like a pack of dogs.

The lightning expanded outwards as all of Penny’s lasers were deflected away, bending off their established trajectories to blow holes in the walls, on the ceiling or…

Or down the stairs.

“Ciel!” Penny shrieked. She couldn’t… she might have just hit Ciel with her own lasers! Lightning Dust might have just made her hit Ciel with her own lasers, and she was still standing there with that smile on her face.

Penny’s swords snapped back into their blade forms, extending outwards to their full length. Penny threw out of one arm as her swords shot forwards, their wires extending.

She could do this, even in a confined space. This was just one of Cinder’s lackeys; she could take them on. She had been created to save the world!

Lightning Dust leapt backwards, backflipping down the little stretch of corridor behind her, her yellow and amber tail flapping in the air before she landed, arms outstretched, and grabbed two of Penny’s blades as they descended on her.

Lightning erupted from her hands, travelling up the blades and down the wires and all the way to Penny.

Penny screamed in shock as the lightning spread up and down her body, half-bypassing her aura and attacking-

ALERT: Malfunctions detected. Initiating internal diagnostic.

ALERT: Language centre compromised.

ALERT: Motor functions in left arm compromised.

ALERT: Motor functions in right leg ceased.

ALERT: Floating Array inoperable.

The blades of Floating Array clattered to the ground, their strings cut. Penny felt the same way as she dropped too, her leg giving way beneath her so that she fell onto one knee. Her left hand spasmed, and she couldn’t stop it.

She tried to speak, to call for Rainbow Dash, for Ciel, but… but the words wouldn’t come out; she could make sounds, but they were nonsense, gibberish, she wasn’t making any sense, she couldn't express herself, she was trapped inside her own head!

A coughing sound from Lightning Dust reminded Penny that that was the least of her worries.

Lightning Dust was doubled over, coughing and spluttering. When she straightened up, there was blood coming out of her mouth. She wiped it aside and looked at it with disgust on her face.

Then she looked at Penny, and the disgust turned to eagerness.

Lightning crackled in the palm of her hand once again as she began to advance.

Penny couldn’t walk. She couldn’t even stand up. She couldn’t move Floating Array; none of the swords would respond to command. With the hand that would still obey her, she tried to pull one of the swords towards her by the wire, but even if she did, how would she-?

Lightning raised a lightning-wreathed fist.

Ciel’s pistol barked in her hand as she fired once, twice, three times as she ran up the stairs, throwing herself against Lightning Dust, pressing the pistol into the side of her black bodysuit and firing it again and again-

Lightning consumed both their bodies, spreading from Lightning to Ciel. Ciel tried to hold up against it, she kept shooting, but eventually, the pistol slipped from her hands, and she cried out in pain, her whole body shaking.

Lightning grabbed her and slammed her face into the floor.

Penny tried to cry out, but only wordless nothing emerged.

A rainbow flashed before her eyes.

Penny!

I gotta end this quickly.

Rainbow pushed as she rose to her feet, not hard enough to knock Mercury down but hard enough to knock him off-balance, and as he was off-balance, she went for him.

More accurately, she slammed into him fast enough to leave a rainbow trail behind her as she bore him backwards with the force of her onslaught, carrying him before her, slamming him through the wall into the next apartment, and as she bore him back, her free hand, the hand that she wasn’t holding onto him with to prevent his escape, pounded into his stomach like a hammer, again and again, until his aura broke and his whole body sagged forwards with the sudden weakness that always came from a lack of aura.

He looked up at her, his breathing heavy, his mouth opened to say something.

He never got the chance to say it. There was a burst of fire from Plain Awesome, Mercury’s grey jacket was suddenly reddened with blood, and Mercury’s grey eyes widened with surprise as he toppled over onto the floor.

Rainbow didn’t waste another glance on him. He was her enemy, and now, he was dead. She had more important things to focus on.

Like her teammates.

How did they get behind us? The motion detectors should have-

She could worry about that later.

A rainbow trailed behind her as Rainbow rushed from the room and down the corridor.

She could see Lightning Dust, wearing something on her back that looked like it was pumping her namesake right into her veins; she could see Penny on her knees, her swords lying uselessly on the ground.

She could see Ciel, disarmed, prone, and helpless.

Her team. Her responsibility.

Rainbow accelerated, moving faster and faster, the rainbow behind her growing brighter and brighter as she blew past Penny, slamming into Lightning Dust just like she had slammed into Mercury.

She didn’t stop, she didn’t say anything, she just hit Lightning at top speed and bore her back like flotsam on the wave.

Rainbow snarled. Lightning snarled right back at her, lightning crackling up and down her body, crackling up and down Rainbow Dash’s body, tearing at her aura, biting it, ripping into it.

Rainbow could feel the pain through her aura, she could feel her aura dropping, even if she couldn’t quite feel how much of it she had left. But she didn’t care. She didn’t stop, she didn’t let go, because right now, she was more than just a huntress; she was an avenging angel!

And so she ignored the lightning that was rippling up and down her body as she bore Lightning Dust through the wall and leapt out, with her enemy, into the street.

The Wings of Harmony still worked despite the lightning; they too were protected by her aura for however long it lasted, and so, Rainbow spread her wings, the wings that Atlas had given her, and with those wings, she soared, and Lightning Dust and all her weight and all her lightning and all the way she beat on Rainbow Dash with both her fists was not enough to bring her down.

Lightning’s blows seemed almost petty, like a childish tantrum of a demand to be released until she saw how high Rainbow was flying: higher and higher, closer to the ceiling with its mock stars buried in the rock, so high that the undercity seemed so small beneath them.

The lightning died as Lightning Dust looked down. She looked back up at Rainbow Dash. “Do you expect me to beg?” she demanded.

“'Beg'? No,” Rainbow snarled. “I expect you to fall.”

She let her go, and as she let her go, she hit Lightning Dust square in the chest with an aura boom, putting all of the remaining aura that she had, every last bit of it into an attack whose sound echoed out across the city.

Blood splashed from Lightning’s mouth as she fell, and as she fell, her eyes were fixed on Rainbow Dash, and they were filled with hatred.

Rainbow didn’t care. Lightning Dust could hate her all she wanted; she wasn’t going to survive that drop, not after taking a hit like that.

Her whole body trembled with exhaustion as she swooped back down towards her teammates.

Exhaustion… and fear over what she’d find when she got to them.

Author's Note

I'm a big fan of a Certain Scientific Railgun, in case you couldn't tell.

Rewrite notes: I'm still a big fan of A Certain Scientific Railgun (new series! Yay!) and the ability of Lightning Dust to cancel out Penny's laser beams owes, everything really to the fight between Misaka and Mugino during the Sisters Arc of Railgun S (it makes scientific sense if you assume that Penny's lasers are actually charged electrons).

Mercury actually dies for real here, as opposed to his fake death in the original, because he didn't really do much after this anyway, he just sort of hung around.

The Badge and the Burden (Rewritten)

The Badge and the Burden

It was called Liberty Point.

It was a smuggler’s cove, to all intents and purposes: a little harbour lying beneath the watch of rocky cliffs, where the waves crashed against the spurs of rock that sheltered a calm pool from the fury of the tides and rendered it a safe place for ships to harbour.

No village lay nearby. No fishermen used this place. Which meant it was ideal for the White Fang to use as a place to moor their clandestine boats, for those members of the organisation who were too recognisable and too wanted to be able to travel on commercial ferries.

It was here that Blake found Adam, standing on one of the rocky spurs that protected the bay, framed against the setting of the sun as he watched the waves crash against the rocks on which he stood.

Blake hopped lightly from rock to rock towards him, careful of her footing and keeping one eye on the waves as she went.

“Adam,” she said, as she got closer to him. “I didn’t think that we were expecting a ship today.”

Adam glanced at her. He wasn’t wearing his mask, which surprised Blake for a number of reasons: first, she would have thought that the salt kicked up from the surf would have stung the burns on his face from where the SDC had branded it; second… Adam almost never took off his mask, certainly not where somebody might see the mark.

Admittedly, they were alone out here, but still… it was unusual for him to do it nevertheless. He feared the risk too much.

He must think that we won’t be disturbed.

I suppose I can’t imagine who would actually come out to the water like this at this time, especially since I didn’t think there was a boat coming.

“There is no boat,” Adam said. “Not tonight.”

Blake had reached his side by now, though she had to look up into his face. “Then why… why are you out here?”

Adam was silent for a moment. “What do you see, Blake, when you look around you?”

Blake was less interested in observing the surroundings in the dying light than she was in working out why Adam was asking this question. “I see… the shore,” she said, looking out across the jagged rocks. “What they would have called a wrecking shore, in the old days.”

Adam chuckled. “Yes. In the old days, before the war, before our people were set free, before airships and technology, people who lived on shores like this would light signal beacons to lure unwary ships onto the rocks to be smashed.” The smile on his face died. “Some of the ships that were lured to their doom were slave ships, filled with faunus chained and shackled and packed like animals in the hold. And when their ships were wrecked… rather than struggle to shore, a lot of those slaves leapt into the stormy seas because they understood that it was better to die than to live as slaves.

“They were a lot like us, those slaves; they understood that sometimes, death is the only freedom that we have.”

“Adam,” Blake murmured. “Why are you talking like this?”

Adam looked away from her, turning his gaze outward across the sea. “Sometimes…” he sighed. “Sometimes, the magnitude of the task that we have set for ourselves, it… it hits me harder than usual. It closes in around me, and I think… I think about what I’ve gotten you involved in and how it will all end for you.” He turned to her and reached out and cupped her cheek with one hand. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Blake; the thought of any harm coming to you, it… it wounds me.”

Blake smiled, but she gently took his hand from her cheek and enfolded it in both her hands. “That’s sweet,” she said, “but I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Adam said. “And when I get too afraid, I can come here and look out across the sea and remind myself that sometimes, it’s better to leap into the tempest than to live in chains.”

Blake stared up at him, not only the champion of their race and a hero to faunus everywhere but her hero too. Hers most of all. Her leader and her love. She would never follow anyone else into battle. She would never love anyone else. The two were entirely intertwined and combined in his one being.

“You’re not going to die,” she whispered. “You can’t. You have to live. For my sake. I’ll live for you, and you have to live for me too. We have to live for one another.”

Adam looked back at her, and as he looked, his smile returned, so that his face seemed handsome, even despite the way that 'SDC' had marred it. That smile lingered for a moment, and then faded away once again.

“What’s wrong?” Blake asked.

“There’s… there’s something that I’ve never told you,” Adam said. “Something that I’ve never told anyone.”

Blake waited expectantly. “You… you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” she said, suppressing her own curiosity, now that he had piqued it so thoroughly.

“I’m half human,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth as though, having decided to say them, he couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

Blake’s eyes widened. She could only stare at him in silence while Adam, waiting for a response from her, seemed so skittish, more afraid than she had ever seen him be in battle, as though the prospect of her reaction to this news frightened him more than facing all the might of Atlas.

“H-how?” she stammered.

Adam’s jaw tightened. “My… my mother,” he growled, through clenched teeth. “She was… a powerful woman. The kind of woman who is used to getting what she wants. The kind who doesn’t take no for an answer.

“My father… my father was a pathetic man. He fought for chump change in some low dive in Mantle, risking his life for a handful of lien while humans made small fortunes betting on the outcome of his fights. That’s where my mother saw him; she saw him, and she wanted him. And, as I said, she was used to getting what she wanted. I suppose I should be grateful she carried me to term, before discarding the fruits of her indulgence.”

Blake’s mouth fell open, hanging there for a moment in sympathetic helplessness, trying to find some words to say that didn’t feel utterly, hopelessly inadequate. “I… I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know that’s not enough, not anything like enough, but-”

“It’s alright,” Adam said. “I don’t expect you to… you don’t have to say anything; that’s okay. I don’t expect you to make it better; I just… I’ve never said it out loud before.”

“You can’t be the only one,” Blake said.

“No,” Adam said. “But all the same… if people found out… I’m a fraud, Blake, not even fully faunus. How can I lead our people to freedom if I’m not really one of them?”

“You are one of us,” Blake said. “You may have a human mother, but you are a faunus. What you’ve done… nobody has served the faunus as well as you, not since the revolution at least, not even my father-”

“A man like me will do incredible things to be seen, Blake,” Adam told her. “Those things that you say I have done, I did them as much for myself as for our people; I did them to… to carve out a life for myself that didn’t humiliate me to live.”

“But you did them, nonetheless,” Blake told him. “Just because you wanted something for yourself doesn’t erase the benefits you have brought to our people. As far as I’m concerned, no one has the right to say that you’re not one of us, no one.”

Adam let out a sigh of relief. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that. I was afraid… I was so afraid… I thought that you might-”

“Never,” Blake said. “I’ll never give up on our fight, Adam, and I’ll never give up on you.” She hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you tell me?” Blake asked. “You didn’t have to. And you were afraid. So… why?”

“Because I don’t want to keep anything from you, Blake,” Adam said. “I don’t want to hide anything from you because you… because you are everything to me.”

The sound of a gunshot shattered the silence.

It came from the building into which the Rosepetals had disappeared.

“Penny,” Ruby gasped.

Rainbow Dash, Sunset thought, and cursed herself. She’d thought that there wouldn’t be any enemies in the building; she’d assumed that they would have taken out the grimm themselves if they’d been around. She’d assumed, and she had well and truly been made an ass of, and now, Rainbow, Penny, and Ciel were separated from the group and under attack.

What did I say? What did I say? I said we weren’t going to split up, we weren’t going to get separated from one another, and then what did I do? I’m such an idiot.

She started to rise from her crouch and was about to head inside after her two stranded teammates when the green grimm lifted its head up from its brunch and let out a roar that blew down the street and gusted even into Sunset’s face, blowing her hair back and chilling her ears.

It had heard the shots – there had been at least one more – and its interest was definitely aroused.

Dammit. Stay safe, Rainbow Dash.

Or just kick their asses.

Sunset strode into the middle of the street and raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder.

“Sunset, what are you doing?” Blake demanded.

“Getting its attention,” Sunset said, sighting down the barrel at the green grimm’s head.

“But what about-?” Ruby began.

“Rosepetal can handle themselves,” Sunset said. “Who or whatever is in there, Rainbow can take care of it. But I don’t think that she needs a giant grimm of unknown provenance interfering in, do you?” She had the plan now. She might be worried about Rainbow – and the others – but she had the plan nevertheless: since the grimm had the potential to smash its way through the wall and into the building much faster than they who had to go in through the door and down the corridors could reach the Rosepetals, the thing to do was kill the grimm here and now before it could get in Pyrrha’s way, then go help the Atlesians out. “Professor Goodwitch, I don’t want to sound like we need the help, but-”

“Of course, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said, as primly as if they were back in a classroom at Beacon and Sunset had just raised her hand to ask a question. She pushed her glasses back up her nose as she strode – strutted, would perhaps be a more accurate description – out of cover to stand beside Sunset, her riding crop held at the ready.

Sunset hoped that she had an armour-piercing round loaded as she doubted that fire dust was going to do much to that bone mask at this range. Okay. Let’s see what makes you so special. “Hey! Over here!”

The grimm, which had been slouching towards the building where the Rosepetals were fighting against who knew what, stopped and looked at her.

Sunset fired. She fired a fire dust round, which burst like a crimson fire on the grimm’s green-glowing mask but didn’t seem to do much more than irritate it a little bit.

At least, if the way that it threw back its head and roared into the enclosed space above them before starting to charge was any indication.

“Ruby! Let him have it!” Sunset snapped as the grimm barrelled down the street on all fours, making the road shake as its massive paws thumped down, tearing up the stone with its white claws as they dug into the road.

Crescent Rose unfolded with a series of snaps and hisses. Ruby planted the scythe blade in the road, digging a furrow into the thoroughfare as she opened fire, the thunder of her shots echoing through the listless air. Blake fired too, the snapping shots of her pistol forming the minor key to the major theme of Ruby’s sniper rifle.

Shots bounced off the green spikes that covered the grimm’s neck and shoulders, doing no visible damage to them; the same was true even when they appeared to be striking the black flesh that should have been soft enough to penetrate. Sunset fired again, and another fire dust round blossomed on the grimm’s shoulder. She fired a third time, and this time, she must have fired an armour piercing shot, which bounced off the creature’s bone mask without cracking it.

The grimm roared again as it closed on them.

Professor Goodwitch flourished her riding crop ahead of her before making a swishing motion as if she were swatting a fly. Instantly, the grimm was picked up and flung aside, swatted indeed by an invisible hand that lifted it up and tossed it back first into a tall tower just beyond the terraces into which either the Rosepetals or Jaune and Pyrrha – and the fact that neither of them had emerged at the sound of the fighting gave Sunset the uncomfortable thought that they might be having problems of their own – had ventured.

Seeing what the grimm did to the building it landed on justified in her own mind Sunset’s decision to focus on the grimm before it could entangle itself with her allies: its impact was enough to shatter the side of the building and probably some of the floors as well, bringing down a pile of rubble on top of the monster as the upper floors collapsed. It lay there for a moment, in the hole that it – and Professor Goodwitch – had made, half-buried, glaring balefully at the huntresses with its unusual, luminous green eyes.

Then it began to stir, shoving the smashed bricks and abandoned debris off itself as it rose onto its hind legs, growling as it stalked out of the ruin and back onto the street.

It threw out its arms on either side as it let out a spittle-flecked roar of defiance, as if it wanted them to see that it wasn’t harmed by aught that they could do to it.

And in the process, it exposed its chest, lined with those green veins.

Sunset ran forwards a few steps, and as she ran, she leapt, and as she leapt, she teleported.

There was a flash of green light as Sunset reappeared about ten feet off the ground, level with the grimm’s exposed chest.

Her face twisted into a rictus snarl as she thrust Sol Invictus forwards, impaling the grimm through its vein-lined chest with the sword-bayonet.

She fired. She pulled the trigger until she had no more bullets left, pumping rounds into the black-and-green substance in front of her, and then, when the bullets ran out, she activated the spear extension to ram her blade deeper into the dark demonic substance that formed this monster.

As Sunset hung in the air, holding onto her weapon as her legs dangled above the ground, she looked up into the white, bony face of this unusual creature of grimm.

It didn’t look like it was about to die, unfortunately. But it did look in some pain and quite a temper.

As the beowolf raised its left paw, Sunset tapped herself on the right shoulder of her jacket, using her aura to activate the fire dust that she had stitched into the fabric.

The fires had only just begun to burn upon her shoulder, with no time to spread onto her arm, when the grimm hit her.

The sideswipe flung her sideways; Sunset hit the ground with a solid thwack that filed away at her aura before she rolled down the black street, extinguishing her flames as she went.

Lucky I have more than one layer of dust, Sunset thought as she clambered to her feet. Sol Invictus was still lodged in the grimm’s chest, a source of irritation to go along with its burnt and smoking paw. Both were making the grimm growl and snarl as it walked forward, a little more tentatively now than it had been moving just a moment ago.

It might not be dead, but it was definitely hurting. A few more good hits might be enough to bring it down. Sunset drew Soteria from its sheath over her shoulder, holding off on activating the dust infused into the metal but ready to do so if necessary. Her mouth opened to form the word, “Ru-”

Ruby didn’t need telling. She had a hunter’s instinct on the battlefield, and she didn’t need Sunset to tell her that the grimm was hurt and vulnerable. Before her name had half left Sunset’s mouth, she had launched herself into the air in a burst of rose petals, Crescent Rose trailing behind her as she soared, spinning towards the grimm.

The grimm which… raised its arms to defend itself, ducking its head so that it could cover its face and chest more easily?

What the…? Not even Alphas are that smart. Since when do grimm protect themselves?

It shouldn’t have been possible, yet it was happening right in front of Sunset’s face: this grimm was putting its paws up – it was even favouring the one that it hadn’t burnt on Sunset’s phoenix cape – like a boxer defending himself from the blows of his opponent or a kid trying to shield his face on the playground. It put up its paws, its bony protrusions protecting its more vulnerable regions, and as Ruby rematerialised from the cloud of petals, she slashed furiously, repeatedly, swiftly against the bone spur-covered paws and did… nothing. Sunset had expected to see her partner soar through the grimm, slicing it in half with a single stroke of Crescent Rose; instead, it was only sheer momentum and a degree of will that was keeping Ruby in motion as she swung her scythe at impossibly swift speeds, beating against the grimm’s guard like a wave battering against the shore during a hurricane or a wind hammering a mountain and having about as much effect.

The grimm growled as it swatted Ruby aside as if she were a particularly annoying fly, one whose buzzing could cause annoyance but whose sting was nothing to be particularly concerned with.

Ruby flew backwards through the air with a squeak, her cape flapping as she flew headfirst towards the ground.

Blake caught her in a flying leap, materialising even as the clone she had left disappeared, catching Ruby in her arms before landing nimbly upon her feet, a slight smile upon her face as she set Ruby back down upon the ground.

“Thanks,” Ruby said.

“Anytime,” Blake replied. “But watch yourself; this thing is smarter than it looks.”

“And tougher too,” added Ruby.

Professor Goodwitch slashed at the air with her riding crop again, and all the rubble and debris that she had caused when she flung the beowolf into the building was now picked up and flung at the beowolf, colliding with the back of its legs and knocking it to its knees with a yelp of pain.

Blake dashed forwards, using her grappling hook to vault onto the side of the – by now half-demolished – building before leaping gracefully onto the back of the green beowolf. She planted her feet amongst the green spikes erupting from that tar-like body and swayed as the beowolf swayed, maintaining her balance and her poise to perfection as she fired three shots down into the bull neck of the grimm.

Then, as the grimm roared in angry agony, Blake leapt off its back, flipping as she went, her long and tangled, wild black hair flying all around her face as she landed before and facing the green-tinted grimm. Gambol Shroud switched to sword form as she stood, blade in one hand and sharp scabbard in the other, but both hanging by her side as she stood before the grimm, a small figure in white facing the incarnation of darkness.

I hope you’ve got something clever in mind, Blake, Sunset thought as she started to run forward. It was because she trusted that Blake was, indeed, about to do something clever that she ran rather than teleporting; but she ran towards her in case it was not so.

It was sometimes hard to tell with Blake.

The grimm snarled into Blake’s face and raised its unburned paw to slam her into the ground.

The claws descended.

And Blake vanished, leaving behind a perfect copy of herself forged out of ice; a copy which, as soon as the grimm’s middle claw touched it, exploded outwards into a block of ice that encased the grimm’s whole paw within it, trapping it and leaving it straining and huffing in its efforts to get free.

The real Blake ran up the trapped limb, slashing with both her blades as she went. “Ruby!”

“Right!” Ruby cried and surged forwards in another petal-trailing charge straight at the green-hued grimm.

And this time, it couldn’t bring its paw up to shield itself because its paw was encased in ice. Crescent Rose sliced cleanly through the trapped limb and scored a deep line across the beowolf’s chest, revealing even more luminescent green substance within.

Ruby even managed to snag Sunset’s Sol Invictus as she traced a green-blooded line across the grimm, grinning triumphantly as she tossed it towards Sunset, who sheathed her sword and used a touch of telekinesis to make the gun soar into her outstretched grasp.

The beowolf howled, throwing back its head and bellowing out its rage to the enclosed sky, but that only provided Blake an opportunity to jump athwart its mouth, one foot resting on each jaw, and fire directly down its green-glowing and blood-stained gullet with her – once more in pistol form – Gambol Shroud.

The grimm shifted; Blake lost her balance, one foot slipping off the jaw as she tumbled down into the beowolf’s mouth. The jaws slammed shut on a clone of fire, exploding in the mouth of the grimm to crack its bony mask even as the real Blake leapt away clear and unharmed.

Sunset raised one hand, stretching it out as the green glow of her magic enveloped her open palm, illuminating the rubble which she picked up with her own telekinesis. Where Professor Goodwitch had used hers like a hammer, slamming it into the grimm from behind to knock him to his knees, Sunset preferred to levitate much the same mass over the grimm’s head before she dumped it on top of him, knocking it flat onto its stomach with a pile of bricks and stones and rebar pipes piled up on top of it in a small mountain.

Ruby made another dash forwards, as everyone closed in around the green-eyed beowolf which, with only one forelimb, struggled to rise from beneath the weight piled onto it.

Ruby perched just behind the cracked and splintered boned mask and placed her scythe upon the face of that dread creature.

She pulled the trigger, and the scythe-blade of Crescent Rose snapped backwards, neatly dissecting the grimm’s face.

Smoke began to rise from its body as Ruby flashed a V-for-victory sign.

“Good work, Miss Rose, and a fair example of cooperation amongst the three of you,” Professor Goodwitch said, in the same tone that she might have used to critique their performances in sparring class, because apparently, she couldn’t turn it off. “Although-” She stifled her own words, as her green eyes widened behind her half-moon spectacles. “Miss Rose!”

The dead grimm beneath Ruby’s feet wasn’t simply turning to smoke. It was moving. Not in a conscious way, but not in a ‘dead frog kicking its legs’ kind of way either. Its body was vibrating, rumbling like an indigestive stomach, the black form of the extraordinary beowolf bulging in places, shrinking in others, the layer of rubble lying on top of it rising and falling with the movements of the corpse, the green-glowing spikes burning with a greater intensity now as the grimm’s black skin boiled, and the green lines became blinding in their brightness.

“Uh, guys?” Ruby murmured tremulously. “What’s going on?”

Sunset stepped forward. “Ruby, get off-!”

Too late. The grimm exploded underneath Ruby’s feet, throwing the rubble under which it had been buried up into the air in a fountain of debris, throwing Ruby up into the air with a startled cry as she was tossed into the dark shadow of the half-wrecked building behind her, tossing up an enormous amount of some strange green goo that must have been causing all of the green that had been so distracting and arresting about this particular grimm.

Sunset threw up a shield around herself, Blake, and Professor Goodwitch as debris and slime of indeterminate toxicity rained down upon them. She could feel both through her emerald shield, the vibrations echoing through Mountain Glenn and through Sunset via her connection to the magic.

The rubble bounced off her shield to land in a circle all around them. The green goo stuck to the magical barrier, only to plop to the ground once, the rain having ceased, Sunset let it drop.

She began to speak, “Professor, do you-?”

She was cut off by a startled cry from Ruby, coming from out of the darkness within the newly-minted ruin.

“Ruby! No!” Blake yelled, her cat-eyes seeing something that alarmed her as she ran headlong into the shadowed part of the tower that remained intact.

Sunset teleported, leaving Professor Goodwitch behind as she rematerialised inside the building, her night-vision and the light of the torch taped to the barrel of her gun sweeping through the darkness.

First, she found Crescent Rose lying on the ground.

Next, she found Ruby, disarmed and squirming in the grip of Adam Taurus.

He held her by the scruff of the neck, smiling as she beat at him futilely with fists that seemed so much smaller now than they normally did. In his other hand, he held his red sword, glowing in the darkness.

That sword. That damn sword. That terrible swift sword that haunted Sunset’s dreams. That sword that had nearly taken Ruby’s life once already, and now…

And now…

And now…

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl. No. No way. No how. No way was she going to suffer this, not a second time, not ever again.

Twilight – Equestrian Twilight, Princess Twilight Sparkle – had, presuming upon the right to act as Sunset’s conscience, to squat upon her shoulder like the better alicorn of Sunset’s nature, counselled her against seeking the death of Adam Taurus. But Sunset’s question still stood: what was she supposed to do instead? When it came down to it, when it became a question of his life against the life of one of her friends, what other choice did she have?

He had almost killed Ruby once, and now, he threatened her again.

No.

“Adam, don’t!” Blake yelled as she raced towards them. But she was too slow and too far away.

Adam’s lips curled into a sneer. “I have been merciful to those who did not seek this battle or this war, but this child has brought a weapon-”

Sunset teleported up into his face and brained him with the stock of Sol Invictus. She slammed the wooden butt of the rifle – and that, Ruby, is why I made it out of wood instead of something that would break as soon as I did this – into the side of his head, causing him to drop Ruby as his head snapped sideways and he began to stagger in that direction.

She used the word ‘began’ because, before he had taken more than half a step, Sunset had grabbed him by the arm.

She didn’t look at Ruby as she teleported away again.

She was going to end this. And she was going to make sure that he didn’t hurt any of her friends again by taking him somewhere far away before she did.

“Sunset, wait!” Blake yelled, stretching out hand towards her before both Sunset and Adam disappeared in a burst of green light. A burst of magic.

It would have been really cool if it hadn’t meant that Sunset had just disappeared before their eyes with no idea of where she was.

“Sunset,” Ruby murmured, staring into the empty space where her team leader and their adversary had been. She glanced at Blake. “Where did she go? And… and why?” She had a feeling that she knew why, just like she had a feeling that Sunset wouldn’t have done this if it had been Pyrrha here instead of Ruby.

If I’d been in the other building and Pyrrha had been out here, you would have stayed and let her help you fight him, Ruby thought mutinously. She liked Sunset a lot, and she thought that Sunset liked her too, but she wasn’t stupid, and she knew that Sunset respected Pyrrha in way that she didn’t respect Ruby, for all her affection. Sure, Pyrrha had never come close to death on any of their missions, which was unfortunately not something that Ruby could say, but still…

It’s because of what happened at the docks, isn’t it?

Sunset, why do you have to do stuff like this?

Would you even be Sunset if you didn’t?

“She’s taken Adam away… to protect us,” Blake murmured. “I have to find them!”

“Miss Belladonna!” Professor Goodwitch shouted as Blake disappeared before anyone could stop her, the clone that she had left behind vanishing as the real Blake… they couldn’t even see the real Blake anymore. Ruby didn’t know where Blake was going or how she thought that she was going to find Adam, but as she scooped up Crescent Rose off the floor – Adam had caught her by surprise and knocked it out of her hands before she’d seen him coming in the darkness – she knew that she wasn’t going to be left out. She was going to find them too.

She’d gotten all of three steps before she felt an irresistible force, almost as strong as her sister when she was in mothering, overbearing mode, yanking her backwards so hard that she fell onto her behind and skidded along the floor that way.

“Oh no you don’t, Miss Rose,” Professor Goodwitch said, leaving no doubt as to the source of the invisible hand that was restraining Ruby.

“But Professor-“ Ruby began.

“Think for a moment,” Professor Goodwitch snapped. “What Miss Shimmer has done is incredibly foolish, what Miss Belladonna has done almost as much so; should you compound the fault with more folly? What about your other teammates? What about our mission?”

Ruby looked up into Professor Goodwitch’s face with wide, round eyes. “But… Sunset and Blake…”

“Once Miss Nikos and Mister Arc return-”

“Professor,” Pyrrha said as she and Jaune emerged from across the street and dashed over to join them. “Ruby… where’s Sunset? And Blake?”

Ruby bowed her head. “Adam… Sunset grabbed him and teleported away. Blake went after them. We don’t know where they went. We don’t know where Sunset went or how Blake thinks she can find them…”

Pyrrha’s face was pale. More than usual. “I see,” she murmured. “Then we… then we must trust in their skill, it seems, and hope.”

As she ran through the dead streets of Mountain Glenn, trying to ignore the devastation and all that that entailed to her feline-eyes, trying to ignore the stench of death and decay that assailed her nostrils, Blake sheathed Gambol Shroud across her back.

She had to find Sunset. She had to find her before Adam… she had to find her before it was too late.

You idiot. You stupid, thoughtless idiot! What were you thinking?

Blake wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Sunset hadn’t been thinking.

How can someone so smart be so consistently stupid?

She needed to find Sunset before it was too late, but… but how?

Height. If she got up high, then she could see better; the darkness was no barrier to her; she could just see what was going on, provided the buildings did not obscure her view.

Blake flung out her hook, and the trembling of her hand did not affect her aim so much that she couldn’t land it where she wanted it, atop the roof of a tower, and swing upwards, letting her momentum carry her up until she could jump off another wall to land nimbly upon the roof itself.

Now she just had to- there! There, the flame in darkness! There was burning out there, on another roof, the burning of Soteria, the burning of Sunset’s jacket, both of them burning in the night like beacons guiding her.

It was a way off, but she knew where to go.

Sunset, whatever you do, don’t die.

No sooner had Sunset materialised with Adam than he flung her away, cuffing her with one angry fist that threw her off his jacket and tossed her aside. She hit the ground and rolled away, scrambling upright as fast as she could. She kept her eyes, enhanced by the nightvision spell, fixed on Adam, but he made no move to attack her while she was prone, or even once she got up. He seemed a little confused, turning this way and that as he examined his new surroundings.

“Where are we?” he muttered.

Sunset couldn’t exactly tell him. She hadn’t teleported with any sense of where she was going, and so, she supposed she ought to think herself lucky that she hadn’t materialised half inside a wall or something. Although that might have taken care of Adam a little easier, I suppose.

Sunset tried to hide the amount that so much rapid teleportation had taken out of her from Adam Taurus as she looked around. They were still in Mountain Glenn, not surprisingly, on top of one of the many high towers that littered the dead cityscape. She could see the plaza where they had emerged from the Nightmarket to the northwest, and she thought that she could make out activity at the railyard to the east. A lot of activity.

You’re moving out, aren’t you? This is all just about delaying us long enough for you to go.

Well, that was fine by her, just fine. Adam had threatened Blake, he had threatened Twilight, he had damn near killed Ruby, and she was done! He was a danger, a mad dog, and she was going to end this, here and now.

No Fluttershy, or Cinder, or anyone else was going to save him now.

Adam looked at her. “So you’ve brought me here so you can kill me where no one else can get in your way,” he observed. “Or have you told yourself you’ve brought me here where I can’t hurt anyone else? We both know that’s not the real reason. You showed your real reasons last night. You want me dead because I threaten you, because I scare you, because I make you feel small, like I made the people who brutalised me, who burned my face, feel small. They hurt me to regain their power, as you will kill me to regain yours. Be honest with yourself.” He smirked. “Or don’t. Either way, don’t expect me to go down without a fight.”

Oh, I’m counting on it. Sunset set down her gun – it was empty – and placed one hand upon the shoulder of her jacket. At the deftest touch of her aura, the fire dust infused within the leather ignited, the flames of red and yellow – flames the same colour as her hair, blending with her burning locks as they cascaded down her back – spreading from one shoulder to the other, spreading down the jacket to her waist, consuming it until it there was not a scrap of black to be seen.

And as the jacket burned, Sunset took it off and ostentatiously tossed it aside. It lay burning on the rooftop as Sunset stood in her cuirass and tank top, in her vambraces and her wedding gloves, facing Adam Taurus.

She needed to have the jacket off for her strategy to work, but there was a part of Sunset that wished she’d kept it on. Without it, she seemed a slightly frail figure compared to the commander of the White Fang, with slender arms and an eminently breakable waist. As the scar on her belly twinged sympathetically, and she had to fight to resist the urge to touch the mark on her armour where he had run her through, Sunset thought that the flames had made her look larger, stronger, more powerful than she was.

Sunset fought to ignore such feelings, to ignore all fear and doubt, as she drew her sword. Soteria’s blade was as black as everything else in this mausoleum to Vale’s failure, but when she passed her hand over it, the fire dust she had imbued into the metal ignited, lighting up the space around her.

“Is that why you hurt Blake?” Sunset demanded. “To regain your power? Did she make you feel small?”

Adam’s face was inscrutable behind his mask. Each red line stood out upon the white like a scar. For a moment, he just stared at her, the line of his mouth unmoving and everything else about his face invisible.

And then he raised the scabbard of his sword, pointing it at Sunset like the gun that she guessed it also was, and fired.

Sunset leapt aside, but not quite fast enough to avoid a grazing shot that scraped across her side and twisted her as she hit the rooftop, taking a sliver off her aura – already a little diminished by the hit that grimm had given her – in the process.

Adam charged, his red blade gleaming. Sunset scrambled up and rushed to meet him; she had no choice; if she stood to take it, he’d probably bowl her clean off the rooftop with the sheer force of his onslaught.

Adam charged, and Sunset ran to meet him, their blades drawn back.

Adam swung. Sunset parried, just about making it in time. Her burning sword met Adam’s crimson blade with a metallic clack.

You don’t have the muscle to meet force with force, Pyrrha’s voice echoed in Sunset’s head. You’ll need to yield before greater strength and turn your weakness to your advantage.

And so, as Adam pressed against her with all his might, Sunset stepped back and, yielding before his greater strength, half-sidestepped out of his inexorable path. Adam, caught by surprise, stumbled forwards, and as he stumbled, Sunset grabbed her burning jacket with her telekinesis and hurled it into Adam’s face.

Sure, Adam Taurus was a more formidable opponent than Bolin Hori, but they both needed to see to fight, and they both needed their aura to survive, and so, as Sunset’s jacket embraced Adam’s face, wrapping around it like a towel, Sunset felt confident that the same trick – used on two different people – would work twice.

She stepped back, retreating to the edge of the roof, and both her hands glowed green with telekinesis as she levitated Soteria out of her physical grip.

She had hoped, she could confess to herself, that Adam would be frightened. She had hoped, a cruel hope perhaps, that the flames that were presently licking his face and consuming his aura would stir some memory in him, a memory of the brand that scarred that same face, and cause him to… to lose his composure the way that Sunset lost her composure whenever he was around.

It didn’t happen.

He just stood there, as though being blinded while flames burned in his face was nothing at all to him. He was still and silent, as though he had been petrified instead of blinded.

Have it your own way, tough guy.

He could play the strong, silent type all he wanted; he could act like none of it bothered him all he wanted; he could do whatever he wanted, and it didn’t matter! Sunset was in control of this fight now, and she didn’t have to be afraid of him anymore.

She was going to cut his aura into little pieces, and then… and then, she would banish the nightmare from her mind.

With telekinesis, she swung Soteria, the black sword wreathed in golden flames, and caught him on the hip with a solid blow.

Adam flinched but did not cry out. He barely moved, only wavering a little as the sword struck home.

Fine. Sunset wasn’t one of those who needed her enemy to suffer before she killed them. She just needed him to die.

She hit him again, moving Soteria with her magic to come at him from behind, knocking him forward this time. Then she came at him from the front, then the other side, then back to the right, then behind, then forward; she waved the ancient Mistralian sword deftly in the air, striking him from a different place, from a different angle. Soteria traced fiery figures through the air as it moved, obedient to her will, higher than she could have held it, faster than she could have wielded it, and most importantly, keeping her well away from Adam Taurus as she assailed him, striking at him again and again while he had no clue-

He parried Sunset’s stroke with his own crimson blade, the red tongue flickering to knock flaming Soteria aside.

Sunset stared, wide-eyed, unable to believe what she had just witnessed.

He… he…

He got lucky, that’s all.

Sunset drove the sword at his back, point first. Adam turned swiftly, the red blade singing, and once more parried the stroke. Sunset lashed out at him twice more from the same direction, and twice more, Adam parried before Sunset pulled Soteria back. She guided the burning blade over his head before bringing it down upon his shoulders, but he raised his own sword, and Soteria rang off it with a great clang that echoed off the rooftop.

How the-?

“They took my eye when I was just a boy,” Adam snarled. “I laboured in darkness so deep that not even the eye they left me with could penetrate it! So I learned to listen. To listen for the sound of your sword through the air.” He parried Soteria again with contemptuous ease before he raised his scabbard-gun to point directly at her. “And to listen for the sound of your breathing.”

He fired.

Sunset raised her hands up before her, conjuring a shield of magic which stopped the bullet harmlessly in its tracks.

But she couldn’t conjure a shield and hold up a sword and jacket with telekinesis at the same time. Soteria clattered to the ground. Adam tossed his gun up into the air where it spun, lazily, as with his now-free hand, Adam ripped Sunset’s jacket off his face and threw it aside.

Adam caught his gun again. “Did you think one cheap trick would be enough to finish me?”

The honest answer was ‘yes,’ but Sunset endeavoured to retain an impression of sangfroid as she summoned Soteria back into her hand. “Well, I thought it would be a start.”

He charged at her, sword raised.

Once more, Sunset charged to meet him; once more, Sunset seemed to take his blow squarely on Soteria before attempting to slip away, to sidestep out of his path before he drove her back right off the roof.

This time, he was ready for her, seeming to let her go before he swung at her with a sideways slashing stroke. Sunset took the blow, wincing in pain as she rolled with the strength of the stroke rather than resisting it, landing on her shoulder – that hurt a little bit too – and rolling away before coming up onto one knee.

Adam raised his gun-scabbard to fire at her again.

A spark of magic leapt from Sunset’s finger, even as Adam’s gun barked and flared; the shot hit Sunset square in the chest, and even her breastplate couldn’t prevent her being knocked backwards, just as it couldn’t stop her aura from taking another hit. But Sunset’s spark of magic hit too, knocking the gun out of Adam’s hand and sending it sliding across the flat grey roof on which they stood.

Adam lunged for it, but as she lay on the ground, Sunset pointed her finger at the discarded gun and fired another spark of turquoise magic. Her spell struck the weapon, which turned with a flash into a plastic pink flamingo lawn ornament.

Thanks for that… singular image, Twilight.

Adam picked up the flamingo, staring at it with what Sunset – as she picked herself up – could only describe as a nonplussed expression.

Bet you’ve never seen transfiguration before, have you?

Then he looked back at Sunset, and as he threw the lawn ornament away, that nonplussed look swiftly turned to an expression of rage.

And now he’s mad.

He came at her, his red blade swinging. This time, Sunset did not sidestep. He was ready for that now, obviously, so it was time to try something else. This time, she stood her ground, not even moving to counter charge; she merely stood her ground and hoped he didn’t notice the green glow around one hand.

The flames made it hard to see the glow around the blade itself.

Adam slashed wildly. Sunset parried with Soteria, holding the blade in place with telekinesis – the fact that her fingers were still around the hilt was largely for show – and because she was matching magic against his strength, not muscle, she was able to hold him off and had one hand free to throw a punch at him.

He caught her by the wrist with his free hand.

Sunset smirked as – still holding her sword in place with telekinesis – she put her fingers to her restrained forearm and with her aura activated the lightning dust infused into the metal of her vambrace.

Adam released her, recoiling with something like a yelp of pain as the bracer sparked and spat and shocked him. Sunset fired a bolt of magic from her palm, but he blocked it with his sword, and it did him no harm.

“I’ve got a few new tricks since you saw me last,” Sunset growled as she summoned her sword back into her hand with telekinesis.

“Clearly,” Adam grunted. “But do you think that will be enough to save you?”

With my aura levels starting lower than yours, I’m honestly not sure, Sunset thought. “Maybe I just want to delay you from getting to my friends, the way you want to delay me from getting to that railyard.”

“The last time we fought, you wanted to kill me.”

“I still want to kill you.”

Adam smiled. “You would have had more chance if you weren’t alone.”

“A friend taught me something,” Sunset replied. “Even if it wasn’t quite the lesson she intended: taking a life extracts a price from you, it puts a burden on your shoulders. A leader takes that burden on themselves; she doesn’t force others to carry the weight for her.”

Adam snorted. “Are you so naïve as to think that Blake has never taken a life before?”

“I’m not going to make her take more.”

“You won’t have a say in the matter for much longer,” Adam growled, and then he came at her again.

He attacked with a furious lunge, slashing wildly but swiftly, his momentum unrelenting as he never stopped, never let up. His blade clashed with Sunset’s sword; he drove her back, he beat down her guard if only for short intervals to strike at her; sometimes, he even let down his own guard to let Sunset strike at him so that she would leave herself open to a strike in turn. Their blades clashed, the blood-red sword and the black-but-burning blade striking each other, sparking off one another, each cleaving off some of the aura of the other.

Sunset wished that she had more of an idea of what state his aura was in. She wished that she could check on what state her own aura was in. She took a deep breath. She was panting a little, and sweat was making her top stick to her back and her gloves to her hands and arms. But she wasn’t done, and considering it was Adam Taurus she was up against, Sunset was inclined to think that she was doing pretty well.

But judging by what she could see of his face, he didn’t seem to think he was doing too badly either. In fact, he was smiling.

And as he stepped back, retreating all the way to the edge of the rooftop, Sunset could see why.

The sword in his hand was glowing so brightly. It glowed as red as blood. He had been charging it all this while.

Everything had depended on Sunset bringing him down before he reached this point, and she had failed.

And now, he was ready.

Adam’s smile became something vicious to behold, and then the world turned as red as blood.

Sunset froze. She couldn’t have moved even if she’d wanted to, with everything turning so slowly, but it wasn’t just that. The world had turned crimson. Blood had descended over her vision. Everything was red except him; he was as black as Mountain Glenn had been just a moment ago, and he was coming straight for her, and she was frozen.

At least Ruby isn’t here this time.

Adam charged her, his blade readying for a slashing stroke to cut her in half, and Sunset’s eyes were drawn to him, to the black form with that deadly blade; it was like she was a rodent hypnotised by a snake, and the snake was poised to devour her.

She was so drawn to Adam that she didn’t even see Blake vault up onto the roof until she had bodily slammed into Adam from the side.

The blood-red effect dissipated in the same instant that Adam’s charge was disrupted, and Sunset saw Blake knock Adam off course, staggering him sideways before she leapt away from his furious counterstroke.

“Blake!” he snapped, confusion in his voice. “You… you came back?” His voice trembled with anger. “You came for her?”

Blake didn’t reply, but the unwavering look on her face was answer enough.

Adam roared in anger as he charged at her, Sunset forgotten.

And as Blake leapt to meet him, Sunset lunged for her gun.

Blake ducked away from Adam’s first blow, leaving a shadow behind to take the slashing stroke from Wilt while she thrust Gambol Shroud up towards his side. Adam turned, too fast for her, the way he had always been too fast, parrying the thrust and slicing down at her.

His blow sliced into the ice clone that Blake had left in her place, trapping his sword in the sculpture. Blake skidded away, switched Gambol Shroud into its gun mode, and fired four times.

She couldn’t miss, and he couldn’t use Wilt to take the shots.

It was time to end this.

Adam, hit in the chest, staggered backwards. Blake lunged for him, kicking him backwards, slashing him with Gambol Shroud – now a sword again – knocking him backwards and onto his back. She stood over him, sword pointed at his chest.

“Do it,” he said.

Blake’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

He was smiling at her. “Do it,” he repeated. “You’ve chosen your side, and I’m your enemy. So do it, and show Atlas what a good little dog you are.”

Gambol Shroud trembled in Blake’s hand. She ought to do it. She ought to strike at him, drive her blade through his aura and put an end to this. He wouldn’t stop. He’d never stop. Even if he was put in prison, he’d just find a way to escape, and he’d keep killing, and he’d keep coming, and… and she didn’t have any way of restraining him anyway. She ought to do it. He was a monster now. Whatever else he’d been, whatever he had been to her… he wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the hero that she’d thought he was. He was wild, and he was dangerous, and he had to be stopped.

She had to stop him.

But…but she couldn’t. Her sword stuck in the air as though it had turned solid all around her. She could barely move at all.

Because he’d let Fluttershy go and shown her that the man she had once known and so admired was still in there somewhere, if only she could find a way to reach him.

And because she… because he…

“It’s alright, Blake,” Adam whispered. “I know that you’ve always been weak.”

He grabbed her by the ankle, his hand reaching out as swift as a striking serpent to pull her off balance. Blake cried out as she was pulled to the ground, and then Adam was on top of her, his fists flying, pummelling her face as he wrenched Gambol Shroud out of her hand.

He laughed as she raised her hands to shield herself, beating her guard away as he crouched astride her.

“Don’t be afraid, my love,” he snarled as he raised her own sword above his head to strike her. “I’m going to set you free.”

Gambol Shroud hovered above her like a bolt of black lightning, its point aimed for her heart.

Adam’s face was twisted into a snarl. “This isn’t-”

BANG!

Sunset was terrified. She couldn’t have said what exactly was terrifying her – was it what she was doing, was it Adam, was it fear for Blake, was it some admixture of them all? – but she was terrified. She was having to use magic to keep the barrel of Sol Invictus steady, balancing it level with telekinesis so that she hit Adam instead of Blake by accident as she fired.

But she fired anyway. Her first shot broke his aura, and she kept firing. She shot him six times, six rounds booming out of her rifle as fire red blotches appeared on Adam’s black jacket, blood spurting from the wounds and mingling with the red of the wilted rose on his lapel.

She fired until she’d used up all her rounds, and even then, she pulled the trigger a couple more times because she wasn’t quite convinced.

Adam was still, seeming to stare at her a while as blood dripped from his mouth. Then his head dropped, his chin touching his chest. And then he fell sideways, lying still on the rooftop by Blake’s side.

I take this burden on myself.

Thank you, Twilight, for teaching me that I should do that, even if it wasn’t exactly the lesson you intended to teach me.

She had killed someone. She took no pleasure in that, not even when that someone was him. Sunset felt cold inside, as though it had turned to winter in her soul. She had taken a life, and she would have to live with it.

But Blake wouldn’t have to live with it, and that was the important thing.

That – and to save her – was why Sunset had fired.

To spare her life and her soul both.

Blake scrambled away, getting out from under Adam’s… Adam’s body. There were tears in her golden eyes, and Sunset could see that she was sobbing.

“Blake,” Sunset murmured.

Blake ignored her, standing over Adam’s still and lifeless form, looking down upon him.

“You were everything to me too,” she whispered. “Until… until you weren’t the same person anymore.”

Sunset approached her cautiously, warily, uncertain of what kind of reaction she would receive from her. “Blake,” she said softly. “You can hate me if you want to, but-”

“Hate you?” Blake asked, looking over her shoulder at Sunset with her eyes so damp. “Why would I hate you?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “You loved him.”

“Once,” Blake said. “But the man I loved died long before you pulled that trigger.”

She knelt by Adam’s side, removed his mask – exposing the brand that had seared his face and removed one of his eyes – and closed the other.

“Your fight is over,” she whispered. “Be at peace, Sword of the Faunus.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Sunset fights Adam here using the strategy that she devised to fight Bolin way back when; however, since Adam is a lot more of a badass than Bolin, it doesn't work as well.

Some of the dialogue is also changed to reflect Adam becoming a little more sympathetic a couple of chapters ago.

First Duty (New)

First Duty

Rainbow and Ciel carried Penny out into the street together. It was… not the easiest thing in all of Remnant that she’d ever done. You didn’t realise how much you missed aura until you didn’t have it anymore, until you had to carry a robot who was heavier than she looked down several flights of stairs without it.

Penny’s arms were spread across their shoulders, with each of them having hold of one of her hands, while Penny had obligingly raised the one leg that she had control over so that it didn’t drag along the ground. The other one, limp rather than locked in place, had fallen and did drag along the ground, making scraping noises as they went along.

Since they couldn’t retract Floating Array back into Penny’s backpack, they had resorted to wrapping the wires around her body, trussing Penny up with her own weapon like they were about to dump her body on the railroad tracks in one of those old videos that Applejack didn’t know that Rainbow knew she liked.

They emerged out onto the street to find Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Professor Goodwitch waiting for them. Of Blake and Sunset, there was no sign.

Of the green grimm, there was, also, no sign; that was a good thing, to Rainbow’s way of thinking. She wasn’t exactly in much state to help in a fight right now, and although Ciel’s aura hadn’t broken, Rainbow guessed that there wasn’t much in it.

“Penny!” Ruby cried, spotting the trio of Atlesians first. She rushed towards, followed quickly by Pyrrha, and then by Jaune and Professor Goodwitch. “Are you okay?”

Incomprehensible nonsense tumbled out of Penny’s mouth.

Pyrrha frowned. “What happened?”

“Electric shock to the system,” Rainbow said. “Half her functions are shot.”

More incomprehensible nonsense fell from Penny’s lips.

“Including her speech centre,” Rainbow added.

“Oh, my,” Pyrrha murmured, aghast. “How? Her aura-”

“The shock travelled down her cable and into Penny’s systems, bypassing her aura,” Ciel explained, her breathing heavy.

Ruby gasped. “Can you fix her?”

Rainbow gave her an incredulous look. Do I look like I know how to fix a robot? Okay, Ciel talks like she might, but how long has Ruby known us? “'Fix her'? Ruby, we need Twilight to even know if Penny can be fixed or if she’s going to need three weeks in the shop and a load of parts stripped out and replaced.”

While it wasn’t Penny’s fault that this had happened to her – it was Rainbow’s fault; she should have… well, she probably should have insisted that Blake come with them so that she could have left Blake outside with Penny and Ciel so that someone could have fended off Lightning Dust at close quarters while Rainbow cleared the room and dealt with Mercury – but it kind of showed her limitations. Rainbow’s aura was done, but she was still on her feet, and even if she’d taken an injury, her aura would work to heal it once it came back, and as long as it wasn’t too serious a wound, she could walk it off until that happened. Penny got hurt, and that was that until the damage could be repaired because her aura couldn’t repair her the way that it could heal flesh and bone.

She was fragile in a way that people weren’t.

To be honest, the more time that Rainbow spent with her… Penny was a good kid, Rainbow liked her, Rainbow wanted to do right by her, but was she the future of warfare? Rainbow had her doubts about that, and not just because of what it took to make her in the first place.

She was coming to wonder, honestly, if Penny’s father had made her more to show that he could rather than because she represented something important that Atlas had to have.

From what she knew of the guy, it wouldn’t surprise her too much.

None of that, obviously, was anything that she would say to Penny out loud. Once she got able to talk again, Penny would probably start beating herself up enough without Rainbow beating on her.

I need to think of something to say to make her feel better once this is over, Rainbow thought. She was lucky that Penny couldn’t talk right now; she could pretend not to understand what Penny was trying to say, when her tone was speaking volumes already, regardless of the lack of words.

Case in point, the mournful sound that came out of her mouth.

“But you can fix her, right?” Ruby asked anxiously. “I mean she’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Of course she will. She’ll be fine, up and on her feet again in time for the Vytal Festival.” She grinned. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

“Thank the gods,” Pyrrha murmured.

“The gods have got nothing to do with it; it’ll be her father and Twilight that you have to thank,” Rainbow replied.

“I suppose,” Pyrrha agreed mildly. “And, oh, I’m sorry, how are the both of you?”

“I’ve got no aura left, so Jaune, I’d appreciate it if you could lay your hands on me,” Rainbow said.

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said, taking a step forwards and holding up his hands, hovering over Rainbow’s shoulder as his hands began to glow, spreading their rippling glow like water across Rainbow’s body. It felt like taking a lukewarm and kind of underpowered shower. Rainbow, who liked powerful showers that felt like you were being shot and preferred to crank the volume all the way up or all the way down, depending on the situation, but never in between, didn’t much like it. But she put up with it because she needed it right now.

“What happened to you three in there?” Jaune asked.

“Mercury Black and Lightning Dust happened,” Rainbow growled. “They’re dead now, but they put up a hell of a fight first.”

“You can confirm their deaths?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

“I emptied a mag into Mercury’s gut after his aura broke,” Rainbow said. “And I dropped Lightning Dust all the way from the ceiling.”

“Was her aura broken?” Professor Goodwitch demanded.

Rainbow inhaled through her nostrils. “No.”

“Then it’s possible she may have had a landing strategy,” Professor Goodwitch pointed out.

That was uncomfortably true. “I wanted to end the fight quickly,” Rainbow replied. “She’d already taken out Penny and Ciel, and I… I wasn’t sure I could take her one on one after I’d already been weakened by Mercury.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said, her tone softening. “I’m sure you made the best tactical situations you could in the moment. I’m merely pointing out the possibility that one of your enemies may have survived. However, given that they have not continued to trouble you, I would hazard that Miss Dust is in no fit state to continue the battle. For now, that is enough.”

Rainbow nodded. “Thanks, Professor.” She glanced at Ruby, and at Pyrrha. “What about you guys? No grimm, does that mean you took it out?”

Ruby nodded. “Me, Sunset, Blake, and Professor Goodwitch managed to deal with it.”

Ruby’s words drew attention to the absence of Blake and Sunset. Rainbow swallowed. “And Blake, Sunset, are they… did they…?” It couldn’t have; one grimm couldn’t take out Blake and Sunset, no matter how big or how weird it was. Not one grimm, not Blake.

Not after everything that we’ve been through. Not after everything that she had left in front of her.

“Miss Shimmer and Miss Belladonna were still alive when last we saw them,” Professor Goodwitch assured her, although the assurance was undercut by the disapproval obvious in her tone.

“It was Adam,” Ruby murmured. “After we were done with the grimm… he showed up. And it was my fault; he got me and-”

“It’s not your fault, Ruby,” Pyrrha insisted, taking Ruby by the shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly. “You were taken by surprise, and-”

“And Sunset wouldn’t have left if it had been you!” Ruby shot back, a pinch of venom in her voice to go along with the hurt.

Pyrrha looked away, her hand falling from Ruby’s shoulder. “Perhaps not,” she admitted softly. “But perhaps she should have.”

“What did Sunset do?” Rainbow demanded.

“Teleported away,” Professor Goodwitch explained. “Her current location is unknown, as is that of Miss Belladonna, who went after her.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to tell Jaune to hurry up and restore her aura so that she could go after them. No, scratch that; she wanted to leave right now, no matter whether Jaune was done or not; she’d take however much aura she had now and take the risk. She wanted to spread her wings, take off, and scour the whole city from the air until she found them.

“You are the worst kind of team leader.”

Are you sure about that right now, Sunset?

Nevertheless, as much as she was the biggest hypocrite in Remnant right now, Sunset’s remembered words reminded Rainbow that she couldn’t do that. If she did that, she’d be leaving Ciel and Penny, and it wasn’t even as if SAPR had a leader who could take over right now.

The opposite, in fact; there was only one leader between the two teams until Sunset got back – and she would get back, and so would Blake; Rainbow refused to acknowledge any other possibility – and that was her.

“They’ll be okay,” she said, and hoped it sounded convincing. Adam wasn’t likely to show either of them the same mercy that he had shown to Fluttershy, but all the same… it was Sunset and Blake, and he wasn’t that tough.

She couldn’t worry about Blake or Sunset right now. She could only deal with what was in front of her.

“Pyrrha, Jaune, what happened to you two?” she asked.

Jaune began, “How do you know that-?”

“Ruby said that she, Sunset, Blake, and Professor Goodwitch took out the grimm,” Rainbow explained. “You wouldn’t have sat that out unless you had no other choice.”

“Cinder,” Pyrrha growled.

Rainbow winced. “Yeah. That’d do it.”

“She got away from me,” Pyrrha added bitterly. “I couldn’t beat her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it; I couldn’t beat her either,” Rainbow replied.

“But-” Pyrrha started to speak.

“You said ‘she got away,’” Rainbow said. “And you’re here, which means she’s the one who ran. I doubt she’ll try again against more of us.”

Pyrrha didn’t look comforted by that, but at least she didn’t argue against it. Rainbow understood why she didn’t look comforted by it: it was never an easy thing, not being able to finish a fight, and it was even harder if the reason you couldn’t finish it was that the other guy was as good as you or better, but all the same, so long as Pyrrha wasn’t arguing, she’d live with that.

Maybe Sunset would have tried to pick up the pieces right there and then, but Rainbow wasn’t Sunset, and she didn’t have the gift for words that would make people feel better just because they left her mouth. She’d take not arguing for now.

“Ciel,” she said. “Can you support Penny by yourself?”

“I believe so, yes,” Ciel replied.

“Thanks,” Rainbow said, releasing Penny and letting Ciel take the strain, which she did with a slight grunt of effort. Rainbow stepped half a pace away, her attention focussed on Professor Goodwitch. “Professor, can I ask you to escort Penny and Ciel back to the Skyray?”

Penny made an outraged but incoherent sound.

“What?” Ciel demanded. “You’re ordering me out? My aura is-“

“Low,” Rainbow said.

“Yours was nonexistent, not so long ago,” Ciel retorted. “Jaune can boost my aura as well as yours, or if he has not the reserves-”

“Are we going to drag Penny into battle with us?” Rainbow demanded. “Someone has to take Penny back to the Skyray, someone has to get on the horn to Team Tsunami and get them down here on the double-”

“'Someone' need not mean me,” Ciel declared.

“It does mean you,” Rainbow said. “Because I am not leaving you down here while I go topside, and I am not leaving Applejack-”

“My sword was broken, fighting Cinder,” Jaune pointed out tremulously. “If Professor Goodwitch is escorting us, then I could-”

“Thank you for the offer, Jaune, but I didn’t call for volunteers, and this matter is not up for discussion,” Rainbow said. You want a team leader, Sunset, I’ll show you a team leader.

“If Jaune has no weapon,” Ciel insisted, “then he is the obvious choice to-”

“Cadet Soleil!” Rainbow snapped. “Ten-hut!”

Ciel’s mouth closed instantly, and she snapped to attention almost as fast, or as close to attention as she could get without dropping Penny. Her blue eyes widened in surprise.

Rainbow clenched her jaw for a moment. Maybe there were arguments against sending Ciel away, maybe she could send Jaune with Penny, but she had almost lost her entire team down here in a situation for which it was clear they were not ideally suited, and she had every right to order Ciel to retire, especially considering her injuries. Plus the fact that, as Penny’s partner, it was arguably her responsibility to shepherd Penny out of the combat zone and see her gotten to Twilight for technical attention. And that was before mentioning the fact that, sword or no sword, Jaune’s greatest asset was his semblance and that ordering him out would be a questionable exercise of her authority in Sunset’s absence.

But ultimately, none of that mattered. Rainbow didn’t have to explain herself to Ciel because she was the leader, and Ciel wasn’t, which meant that Ciel would suck it up, do as she was told, and wait until she got on the command ladder to start doing things her way.

“I am ordering you,” she said, “to take Penny back to the airship and to make contact with Team Tsunami by any means necessary – including retreating from the area – and summoning them to assist us here, as well as bringing Twilight to examine Penny. Once Twilight arrives, you will follow her directives to ensure that Penny is given all necessary assistance as quickly as possible. Do I make myself clear, or do I have to write you up for insubordination and disrespect?”

Ciel glared at her furiously, and the same fury that was evident in her eyes strangled her voice as she said, “I have never disobeyed a direct order. But I would like it noted in the record that I did not approve this course of action.”

Rainbow nodded shortly. “Noted.”

Ciel’s jaw tightened visibly as she saluted with drill-ground precision.

“Professor,” Rainbow said, “since Ciel has her hands full, literally, can I ask you to make sure they reach the Skyray safely?”

“And what do you intend to do in the meantime, Miss Dash?” Professor Goodwitch demanded.

“We’ll continue with the mission plan,” Rainbow said. “Get to the railyard, see what we can see, leaving markers for Blake and Sunset to follow on the assumption that they will come back here once they’re done.” She didn’t question whether they would be done or whether they would be coming back. This wasn’t the moment for it. “The markers will also serve to guide Team Tsunami from the landing site once they arrive. Once we make it to the railyard and see what’s up, we’ll know if we can afford to wait for Team Tsunami to arrive or if we need to move sooner to stop the White Fang or rescue Applejack.”

Rainbow looked away from Ciel and to the professor, who looked thoughtful, as if she were weighing Rainbow’s words up in her head.

“Very well, Miss Dash,” she said. “I will make sure that Miss Soleil and Miss Polendina reach the airship safely, and then I will return. I strongly advise you to do no more than reconnoitre until I get back, unless circumstances make it absolutely vital that you engage immediately.”

“Like I said, Professor, ideally, we’ll wait for you, Sunset, Blake, and Tsunami,” Rainbow replied.

“Indeed,” Professor Goodwitch said. She swept her green-eyed gaze over the three members of Team SAPR who were here right now. Her expression softened. “You three should not be too hard upon yourselves,” she told them. “You have made it this far, which is something that not every team of students, or every grown and graduated huntsman, could have achieved. Do not forget that and do not let the imperfections of this mission drown it out.” She paused. She might have sniffed, or perhaps Rainbow had imagined that. “Take care of yourselves,” she said. “Take care of one another. I expect… I do not expect to see any empty places in my class next year. And you are to tell Miss Shimmer that I said so, too.”

Rainbow noticed that she too refused to admit the possibility that Sunset might not be coming back. That was… well, it made her feel a little better about her refusal to do so either.

“Don’t worry, Professor,” Jaune said. “You’ll see us all again.”

“Indeed, Mister Arc, and sooner than you seem to be implying,” Professor Goodwitch declared.

Penny again tried to speak, to no avail.

Pyrrha smiled at her and placed one hand upon Penny’s cheek, stroking it gently. “Farewell, for now, Penny. I am sorry that we did not get the chance to truly fight alongside one another, but the road is long, and our time will come, I have no doubt. Until then… goodbye, and get well soon, if that has any meaning for you.”

Penny made a low, sad sound.

Ruby leapt forward, wrapping her arms around Penny as best she could, with the way that Penny was being held up by Ciel. “Don’t worry, Penny,” she murmured. “We’ll see each other again, real soon.”

Penny looked as though she wished that she had been created with the ability to cry. She tried to reach around and embrace Ruby, but her arm was damaged, and she could not control it, and it flapped uselessly up and down without getting anywhere near the girl in the red hood.

“Come along now, girls,” Professor Goodwitch said primly. “Let’s get Miss Polendina to safety as quickly as we can.”

“Yes, Professor,” Ciel said quietly. She sighed. “May the Lady watch over you, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow didn’t look at Ciel as they departed, or at least, she didn’t look at Ciel’s face. Only when their backs were to her did she look, and then she watched Ciel and Penny’s retreating backs, heading for safety until they, and the professor, were out of sight.

“It occurs to me,” Pyrrha murmured, “that you could have escorted Penny and Ciel back to the airship yourself.”

“I could,” Rainbow admitted. “If Sunset were here.”

“Would you have?” Pyrrha asked. “If Sunset were here?”

“A huntress’ first responsibility is to preserve life,” Ruby said. “To protect those who can’t protect themselves. Professor Goodwitch is the best person to make sure that Penny makes it back to the Skyray alive. That’s her first duty, not to the rest of us.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “That.”

It’s not that I refuse to go home without Applejack or anything.

“Now, I would love to wait for Sunset and Blake to get here, but we can’t wait. Or at least, we can’t wait here. We have to press on, but we’ll mark the trail, and when they are done, Blake and Sunset will come back here, find the marks we’ve left, and follow them right to us.” She paused. “Now, at this point, Sunset would probably give you a speech, because she seems to enjoy that part of being a leader, but I… I don’t have the words. I haven’t read enough books to know how to say this stuff.” Something else I should probably do something about. “So I’ll just say 'be proud of yourself, fight for your pride and for one another, and we’ll get through this together.' Okay.”

She pulled Unfailing Loyalty over her shoulder. “Let’s move.”

The Next Train From Platform One (Rewritten)

The Next Train from Platform One

By the time that Sunset and Blake returned to the point at which they had left the others, the others had already gone.

Sunset looked around the now deserted street. “Do you think they’ve written us off?” she asked, keeping her tone deliberately light.

“No,” Blake replied without any levity in her own voice. She gestured at a glob of white paint spread across the middle of the road. “They left us a trail so that we could catch up with them.”

“Right,” Sunset murmured. “I suppose they wouldn’t have done that if they thought it would be Adam coming after them. Nice to know that they have faith in us, huh?” She tried to smile, but the look on Blake’s face dismissed any attempt at smiles. Sunset felt her brow furrow into a frown despite itself. “You know what else is nice? Knowing that they were in a fit state to keep moving forward.” She remembered how Cinder had railed against that phrase, and it checked her for a moment until she remembered that she was using it in a completely different context. “I mean, they could push on. They were… they were all able to push on.”

Blake nodded absently, her eyes sweeping across the street, lingering on the ruined tower in which Adam had concealed himself.

Sunset, in turn, looked at Blake. A sigh escaped her lips. I wish that I could take your pain away; sadly, I don’t think my semblance works that way. She wasn’t even sure what did work that way: time, distance? Something to ask Princess Celestia about, maybe? Or maybe just get her to go and see Professor Goodwitch like Jaune had. But for herself, Sunset could say nothing, add nothing. Blake was the one who had known what to say while Jaune was in need; who could say anything to Blake when she needed help?

“We should go. We need to catch up with the others.”

Blake nodded absently but made no move to actually… move. “Sunset,” she said softly. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Sunset blinked. “What did I know?”

“That Adam…” Blake trailed off for a moment. Her head bowed. “You knew that Adam had let Fluttershy go.”

Sunset’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips, but it didn’t help them very much. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I knew. I was there.” And it didn’t stop me trying to kill him then either.

Blake rounded on her. “And you still-”

“He was going to kill you,” Sunset reminded her, not raising her voice but speaking firmly, despite the quiet of her tone. “He was going to kill you. Was I supposed to ignore that? Was I supposed to let you die for his sake?”

Blake hugged herself and did not reply.

Sunset scowled. “Blake, you are going to answer this question or so help me-”

“What makes my life worth more than his?”

The fact that you’re my friend. “What?” Sunset repeated. “I don’t even know where to start! Your service, to Beacon, to Atlas; you stopped the robbery at the docks, you stopped the robbery on the train, you saved Ruby’s life in the Emerald Forest, you saved my life just now… some people just live their lives, but you, you’ve made the world a better place for being in it. And that’s just now, at eighteen! You have your whole life ahead of you. All in front, for years and years to come. Maybe you will go to Atlas and become General, or maybe you’ll stay at Beacon and just become a first-class huntress. Either way, you’ve got so, so much to offer. Could Adam have said the same? A wanted man, a hated man, a killer, a criminal-”

“That’s an argument for valuing the young above the old,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, and?” Sunset asked. “That doesn’t make me wrong.” She ran one hand through her fiery hair. “What do you want me to say, Blake?”

“I… I don’t know,” Blake admitted.

“I won’t apologise for saving your life,” Sunset insisted. “And I won’t let you blame me for this.”

Blake was silent for a few moments. “You… you’re not the one that I blame,” she muttered.

Sunset took a step towards her. “This isn’t your fault, Blake.”

“But he was better!” Blake cried. “He let Fluttershy go!”

“That doesn’t make him a good man,” Sunset insisted. “It means… it means that he had a soft spot for Fluttershy, as so many do. It doesn’t wash out his other actions. It doesn’t make him… he was our enemy; he was fighting us. He didn’t have to fight; he could have run away, but he chose to fight, and so… what was I supposed to do?”

“This isn’t about you.”

“Then what were you supposed to do?” Sunset demanded.

“Stayed, and helped him?” Blake suggested. “Recognised that the man I fell in love with was still in there somewhere? Worked to-”

“To what?” Sunset interrupted her. “To save him? To change him? To bring him back from the darkness?”

“Yes!” Blake cried. “Yes, to all of those, why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work; it can’t be done!”

“You don’t know that; maybe-”

“You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change,” Sunset declared. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t see that they need help, who can’t see anything wrong with who and what they are and what they do; trust me. The best you can do is wait for them to realise, on their own, that something has to change… and sometimes… let me ask you something, were you happy with him, at the end?”

Blake hesitated. “No,” she said. “But-”

“Then you had every right to leave,” Sunset said. “Even putting aside any broader philosophical differences of opinion. You weren’t his therapist; it wasn’t your job to put him back together. You’re allowed to take care of yourself.”

“Even at the cost of others?” Blake asked.

“No one has a right to demand that you sacrifice yourself for them,” Sunset insisted. “Nobody.”

Blake scuffed her foot upon the road. “I don’t know if this would bother me so much if he hadn’t… how is it that he was able to come back, for that one brief moment, after so long of… how?”

Sunset shrugged. “Fluttershy always wins.”

“So I’ve been told,” Blake muttered.

“I can corroborate, it’s true,” Sunset said. “Certainly where I could see. It doesn’t mean… I wish that I knew the words that would make this better.”

“I don’t think there are any words,” Blake murmured. “Not right now.”

That’s what I was afraid of. “So… what now?”

“'Now'?” Blake repeated. “Now… I don’t blame you, Sunset,” she assured her.

“I’d almost rather that than you blame yourself,” Sunset replied.

Blake didn’t reply to that; rather, she said, “Why… why did you leave the sword?”

“Huh?”

“Wilt, Adam’s sword,” Blake explained.

“Is that what it was called?”

“You left it with him,” Blake pointed out.

So she had. “What else was I supposed to do with it?” Sunset asked.

Blake gave her a flat look. “I know that you wanted it for yourself.”

“I wanted it as a trophy,” Sunset corrected her. “I wasn’t going to put Soteria aside for it, or start carrying two swords around.”

“Trophy or otherwise, you didn’t take it,” Blake said. “You left it with him.”

That she had. When it came to it, when she had found herself looking down at the red sword, that red like blood, red like roses, that intense red… she hadn’t been able to pick it up. She hadn’t been able to take it for herself.

She had a sword. Soteria, the sword that Achates Kommenos had carried for the Emperor at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns, the sword that the Imperial bodyguard had carried for generations before that in service to the Nikos family, the sword that Lady Nikos had given her to protect Pyrrha, sealing a bond between Sunset and the House of Nikos. She had a sword, a sword that protected life, a sword that defended crowns and kingdoms, a sword that had been forged to defend she whose life was as precious to Sunset as her own.

Adam’s sword, the red sword, the butcher blade that had nearly struck down Ruby… it was a sword of death, a sword of killing, a greedy red tongue that gulped down the blood of its victims. Looking down, Sunset had felt as though… as though if she took hold of the blade, she would be taking a curse upon herself, as though… it was absurd, but she almost felt as though the day would come when that sword would say ‘I was a thousand times more evil than you’ and strike her down and suck her spirit dry of all its power.

That was stupid, she knew, but all the same it was… it was an evil sword.

Or perhaps she simply recognised that the way she had come by it was… less than savoury. Not evil, of course, nor even necessarily wrong, but… when she had declared that she would take the sword for herself, she hadn’t really… Sunset hadn’t necessarily thought about what it would mean. About what she would have to do to get it. About what Adam would look like when she did.

“It didn’t feel right,” she muttered. “Given the circumstances.”

“No,” Blake agreed. “No, it didn’t.” She paused. “Thank you.”

“Blake-”

“We should get moving, if we want to catch up with the others,” Blake declared, and rather than give Sunset a chance to say any more, she began to run, setting off down the road, following the trail of paint into the darkness.

Sunset sighed, and ran after her, the sound of her boots upon the tarmac echoing off the crumbling walls of the dead city.

From a secluded spot above the streets, Cinder watched them go.

So, they had killed Adam. That was… for the best. As it was, he had wobbled once when he released Fluttershy, but who knew how often he would have wobbled afterwards if he had lived? Better he die now than risk becoming a complication later on down the line.

It did mean that controlling the White Fang had probably become impossible – Gilda was not likely to look favourably upon her, nor was whoever Sienna Khan sent out to replace Adam – the idea of Gilda being granted the command of the chapter permanently was laughable. The High Leader had, after all, already tried to replace Adam with someone who would not work with Cinder; it was unlikely that she would have softened on the idea in the meantime.

No matter. She had little need of the White Fang now. The operation was already underway; it could no longer be stopped, and once it had, once Vale had been breached and horror had been unleashed in the heart of the civilisation that thought itself so safe and so secure, that sat so cosily and so comfortably behind its walls… then there would be no more need of their assistance.

Probably.

It was a risk that she would have to take.

When it came to it, she was glad that it was Sunset walking away from the battle and not Adam. She would rather have an enemy whose actions she could predict to an ally who was… somewhat temperamental.

She was glad that Sunset was still alive.

Keep showing me that drive to survive, Sunset. Show me how far you’re willing to go. Show me everything that you are willing to do.

“Cinder.”

Cinder turned at the sound of her name, to see Emerald and Lightning Dust approaching her from behind. Lightning Dust looked rather the worse for wear, her face pale and haggard, her shoulders slumped, her breathing heavy. Around her mouth was stained with blood, and her arms hung limply down beside her as though she could no longer move them.

Emerald did not look so bad, as Cinder would hope, considering that she had kept Emerald out of the battle; all she had been required to do was distract Pyrrha long enough for… long enough for Cinder to get away.

Recalling that fact irked her. It irked her tremendously. She could make excuses for herself, she could say that she had not wanted to kill Pyrrha yet – she would do in the light of the sun, before the eyes of the world, where everyone could see their beloved champion, their vaunted Invincible Girl, fall before her might and prowess; she wanted the wailing to strike the sky from every house in Mistral as their Evenstar burned to ashes before their eyes – and those excuses would be true. But they would also be excuses.

She had fought without using any of her stolen power. She had fought using only her own martial skills and her own semblance, and she could not win. Now, she felt it was not overly defensive on her part to point out that Pyrrha had not defeated her either, but Cinder had not won. She had come close, and perhaps if she had not deliberately enraged Pyrrha by seeming to threaten Jaune, things might have gone differently, but… but she had not won.

She had not been strong enough.

Or Pyrrha Nikos had been too strong. Cinder, it seemed, had esteemed her valour and her skill at arms too lightly. She had thought her more a name than a challenge.

Vain and foolish of me. Watching her fight with Sunset ought to have disabused me of that.

I thought I was different. I thought I was better.

Instead, she had found that they were evenly matched, equals in speed, in strength, in courage, and in the quality of their weapons. Pyrrha was the better trained, if only because she had not been forced to train herself in secret, but Cinder fancied she had the greater situational awareness.

But it balanced. Neither of them could defeat the other.

At least, not with the skills they had matched presently.

If Cinder had used her other powers, then without doubt, things would have been different. Next time, things would certainly be different.

But it would make the victory just a little bit more hollow in consequence.

She had hoped to prove her own superiority beyond doubt; instead, she had been confronted by the fact that there was no superiority at all.

I have power she does not and will never have.

Phoebe had power that I did not once; it spoke not to her greatness.

Pyrrha’s admirers certainly think it speaks to her greatness that she overpowers the mice who scurry about her feet. Wherefore, then, should I hold back out of some precious perception of fairness?

Because I wanted to prove that though she had been born better than me, she had not been born better than me.

It appears I must settle for the knowledge that we were born equals.

The fact was… annoying, to say the least.

Cinder tore her thoughts away from her personal disappointment and towards her servants. “Where’s Mercury?” she demanded.

“Dead,” Lightning growled, coughing a little after she said it. “Rainbow Dash got him.”

“I see,” Cinder murmured. Perhaps she ought to have seen that coming. After all, Rainbow had fought her a good fight; she should have expected that she would be too much for Mercury, or indeed for Lightning Dust. As for the loss itself… it was regrettable, but far from insurmountable. She hadn’t even wanted Mercury on her team in the first place; it was his father, the legendary assassin Marcus Black, whom she had sought out. But Mercury had killed his father – that very day, ironically – and while she had been glad enough to take the son in the father’s place, he had never been essential to her plans. The loss of a capable fighter was irksome, but her future plans did not depend too much on strength of arms. She could certainly live without him.

She asked, “Was it also Rainbow Dash who has left you in this state?”

“Dropped me from the ceiling,” Lightning grunted. She coughed violently into her hands, so violently that she doubled up, spasming violently as it looked like her cough sprained a muscle somewhere. “I was lucky I had enough aura left to grab a wall before I hit the ground.”

“You’re lucky that she didn’t finish you off more certainly, like she did poor Mercury,” Cinder observed. “Still, your efforts were not pointless; you… well, you did something to Penny, didn’t you?” She didn’t understand what it was that Lightning had done, except it seemed that Penny Polendina was not entirely human. What she was, Cinder had no idea, but she had not been behaving at the end as a person would. Perhaps General Ironwood had used the Relic of Creation to, well, create something? But why, and how many more such inhuman creations did he possess? Cinder did not know the answers, nor how to get them, but she knew it would be something that her mistress would wish to know.

If only she didn’t have to supply said information via Doctor Watts.

“Are we just going to let them go?” Emerald demanded. “After they killed Mercury, after they killed Adam?”

“What would you propose instead, Emerald?” Cinder asked softly. “Lightning here is clearly in no state to fight another battle.”

“We could go after Penny, Ciel, and-”

“Glynda Goodwitch, a huntress, one of Ozpin’s chosen few?” Cinder asked. “Will you face her? To what end, Emerald, would you ask me to hazard myself?”

Emerald looked away. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Then what did you mean?” Cinder demanded, advancing upon her.

Emerald shrank back before her. Lightning tried to bar Cinder’s way, “Cinder-”

“Quiet!” Cinder hissed. “I want to hear what Emerald has to say.”

Emerald swallowed. “I just… they killed Mercury! Sure, he was a jerk, and he was lazy, and he thought he was so great, and he read those stupid comic books all the time, but he was one of us, and they killed him! I thought… I thought we were supposed to be a family; I thought that because the world didn’t want us, that meant that we had to stick together because… because all we have is one another. They killed him, and we’re just going to let them get away with it?”

Cinder stared down at her. A sigh escaped her lips. “Emerald. Ah, Emerald.” She reached out and gently stroked Emerald’s cheek with one hand. Abruptly, that stroke turned into a sharp pinch that made Emerald wince in pain. “Never call us a family again, or I will show you what family means to me.” She released the smaller girl. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Emerald groaned, rubbing her cheek. “Yes, Cinder, I understand. I’m sorry.”

Cinder fought back the twinge of guilt she felt for her behaviour as she placed a hand on Emerald’s shoulder. “No, Emerald, I’m sorry. I should have been more considerate of your feelings. I know that three of you have grown close during our time together. Rest assured that there will be a time for vengeance. A time when the flowers of the north will wither in flames and Rainbow Dash will get what’s coming to her… but that day is not today. Lightning is spent, and even I… even I am not at my full strength. If we let our anger, our desire for retribution, put our work in jeopardy, then we throw away everything for which Mercury gave his life. Is that what you want?”

“No!” Emerald cried. “Of course not.”

“Then we will honour him by winning this war,” Cinder declared. “And bringing down Vale, just as he worked to do while he lived.”

Emerald bowed her head. “I understand.”

“Good,” Cinder replied. “I’m so glad that I can further your education, even outside of Beacon Academy.” She chuckled. “The two you should get out of this city, find somewhere safe to lie low; I will find you there and instruct you on where we go next.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Emerald asked.

“Not yet,” Cinder confirmed. “There are yet some matters that I must attend to before I leave. My business here is not concluded.”

After all, Sunset hasn’t even taken my test yet.

They were at the railyard.

So were the White Fang, just like they had thought they might be.

The railyard was not as busy as Rainbow had expected. The White Fang were here – she could see them from where she, Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha were lurking behind some stacked up rusting old rails – but she’d also expected there to be more of them. With the amount of dust that they had stolen, the Paladins, she’d expected to find an army down here. Instead, while there were quite a few White Fang guys in their distinctive masks and hoods, mostly loading gear onto trucks under the direction of Gilda – Rainbow couldn’t help but be impressed at how high up she seemed to be, even if she’d rather Gilda were somewhere else, somewhere they wouldn’t have to fight – there weren’t nearly so many as she had thought there would be. In fact, in places, the yard was almost quiet.

There was also no sign of the Paladins. Not a single sight of a single one.

The presence of a train in the yard explained both of those things.

It looked like a new train; this wasn’t some abandoned engine from twenty years ago that the White Fang had found down in Mountain Glenn and painstakingly fixed up, this was a new train that the White Fang had stolen from the Cold Harbour line and gotten down here… somehow, along with the rolling stock.

Now we know why we couldn’t find the train after Adam made off with it.

Rainbow had no doubt, no doubt at all, that the rest of the White Fang forces were on that train, along with the Paladins and the stolen dust.

But why? What were they going to do with a train?

Ruby opened her mouth, but before she could speak, both she and Rainbow both sensed someone – two people – approaching from behind them.

They looked around, just as first Blake - her outfit stained with an alarming amount of blood, made only slightly less alarming by the fact that it seemed to be somebody elses - and then Sunset emerged into view, both moving slowly and keeping low as they crept through the shadows, staying out of sight of the White Fang, until they reached the others.

Rainbow didn’t know whether she wanted to hug Blake or punch Sunset. Actually, she did know: the answer was both, definitely both. Her relief that Blake was okay – okay, fine, she was relieved that they were both okay; she wouldn’t have seriously wanted anything to happen to Sunset, but that didn’t change the fact that she was mad that Sunset had done this in the first place.

She was a little mad at Blake too, but with Blake, it was more understandable because… well, because that was the kind of thing Blake did. Sunset had just had the gall to give Rainbow a lecture on being responsible last night and then to go and pull a stunt like this!

“Hello, strangers,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

Sunset didn’t meet her eyes. Rainbow took that to mean she felt a degree of guilt over the whole thing.

Or perhaps she knew she wasn’t going to get any more sympathy from anyone else, judging by the looks on the faces of her teammates.

“How could you do that, Sunset?” Ruby demanded. “How could you just disappear like that?”

“I wanted to get him away from you,” Sunset replied.

“But why?” Ruby said. “We could have fought him together, you and me and Professor-”

“You’re not good against other people, and I didn’t want him anywhere near Blake either,” Sunset hissed. “I didn’t ask her to follow me.”

“And I didn’t ask you to ditch me, but you did it!” Ruby snapped. “How do you think that makes me feel?”

“As long as you feel alive, I’ll take it,” Sunset said.

“Sunset, as much as we appreciate your concern-” began Pyrrha diplomatically.

“I don’t appreciate it!” Ruby interrupted, cutting Pyrrha off. “I’m training to be a huntress, the same as you, I don’t need you to treat me like you need to keep me safe; I’m fifteen, not five, and-”

“And Adam almost killed you once.”

“So what? That’s what I signed up for!”

“And that attitude is exactly-”

“Can you both just stop!” Blake demanded. “Please, just… please, stop, all of you. I don’t… can we not talk about this? Please?”

Ruby and Sunset fell silent. Sunset had the grace to look even more ashamed of herself than before, although that seemed to Rainbow to be mostly because of Blake rather than because of what Ruby had said. Ruby too was silent; her silver eyes widened a little bit, and her mouth formed an O of surprise.

Rainbow reached out and placed a hand upon Blake’s shoulder. “You know there’s one question that I have to ask, right?”

Blake glanced at her. Her golden eyes were moist. “Adam’s dead,” she whispered.

Ah. Right. “I…” Rainbow trailed off. She didn’t know what to say; she couldn’t share Blake’s evident sorrow – yes, he had done a good thing for Fluttershy, but it didn’t erase all the bad things that he’d done or been planning to do – but now was hardly the time to express anything else. She hesitated, frowning slightly. “You know… Ciel says that in the next life, there is no racism.”

Blake sniffed. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow said. “I guess we’re all equal in death.”

“'Equal in death,'” Blake repeated quietly. “So I should be glad?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “But… I guess I’m trying to say that maybe he’s gone to a better place.” Agh, that makes him sound like a pet dog, doesn’t it?

Blake didn’t seem to notice, thank gods. She just looked away from Rainbow and murmured. “Maybe. Thank you.”

Rainbow squeezed her shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” I just wish I could do more. “Both of you.”

“Where are Penny and Ciel?” Sunset asked.

“Penny was… damaged,” Rainbow admitted. “You weren’t the only one with a battle to fight. Mercury’s dead, Lightning Dust is dead if I’m lucky, but they managed to damage Penny pretty badly. Ciel took a few knocks as well. Professor Goodwitch is escorting them back to The Bus.”

Sunset nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Will she be okay?” Blake asked. “Will they both be okay?”

“They’ll be fine,” Rainbow assured her. Now wasn’t the time to mention that Rainbow should have insisted Blake come with them instead of staying with Sunset and Ruby.

“What about you, Pyrrha?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha bit her lip. “Cinder was waiting for us. She… she escaped me.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed a little as she watched Sunset trying not to seem at all happy that Cinder was still alive. “That… never mind. At least you’re both in one piece-”

“She broke my sword,” Jaune muttered.

Sunset winced. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to borrow Soteria until this battle is over and we can look at getting your sword reforged?”

Jaune looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“I know your semblance is your biggest asset, but it wouldn’t do you any harm to have a weapon. I’ve got my magic and my gun, so don’t worry about it.” Sunset said, drawing her sword from across her back and holding it out to Jaune.

Gingerly, Jaune closed his fingers around the hilt of the black blade. “Thanks. I’ll take good care of it.”

“You’d better,” Sunset said, with a grin to show that she didn’t mean anything by it. She raised her head a little to look over the stack of rails. “So, what have we got?”

“A train,” Rainbow said, “Probably with a lot of White Fang troops and dust and our stolen mechs on board.”

“'Probably'?”

“I can’t see them anywhere else, can you?” Rainbow asked.

“It looks like they’re packing up to leave,” Sunset pointed out. “Maybe the Paladins already left?”

Rainbow shook her head. “That’s a new train that they brought down here, and a long tail of cars. They’ve put a lot of stuff in that train, and they’re just loading up what’s left.”

“They’re going to attack Vale,” Ruby said. “Remember, the subway tunnel goes all the way; it joins the two cities, that was the whole reason it was built in the first place!”

“But it was sealed off,” Sunset replied. “The tunnel was sealed off; that’s why nobody could get out, that’s why everyone left in the city died underground.”

“But how thick was the barrier?” Jaune asked. “I mean, with all of the dust that the White Fang and Torchwick stole, could they blow it up? Blow a way into Vale?”

“And then they’ll use the train to transport their troops and mechs down the tunnel and come up to attack Vale!” Ruby cried, or at least sort of cried while still being quiet. “We have to stop them!”

“Wait a second,” Rainbow said. “If they’ve mined the far end of the tunnel, then what do they need the train for? They could just gather all of their troops at that end of the tunnel and wait until they were ready to blow.”

“You said it yourself; there aren’t that many places to mass a large number of people and equipment,” Sunset replied. “Why would you want to camp in a subway tunnel, where its uncomfortable and everyone is spread out and it’s hard to move between the underground and the surface, when you can make camp here, where there are at least a few places with a roof over your head, there’s an elevator right there, and they don’t need to worry about travelling because they have a train? I think Ruby’s right about this, and even if she isn’t… maybe there isn’t a mine; maybe they’re going to ram the train through the barrier and smash it that way.”

“Wouldn’t the impact kill the people on the train?” Blake asked, aghast.

“With aura, I’m sure some people would survive,” Rainbow said. “Look, whether it’s a mine, or whether it’s the train, either way, they can break the barrier, but they’ll just be coming up under the guns of the General’s cruisers, it's crazy!”

“They’ll have surprise on their side,” Sunset pointed out.

“That’ll give them two minutes, three tops,” Rainbow said. “If that is their plan, it isn’t going to go the way they want it to.”

“But how many people could they kill in those two or three minutes?” Ruby asked. “How much damage, how much fear? If they cause a panic, then that will bring the grimm. We have to stop them now.”

“Sunset,” Blake said. “Can you use your magic to derail the train?”

Sunset shook her head. “It’s too big for me.”

“I might,” Pyrrha volunteered. “With Jaune’s help, certainly; after all, I’ve done it before.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Sunset said. “If we derail the train now, don’t they have enough stolen Paladins to just lift it back onto the tracks? And we won’t be able to derail it again because we’ll be under attack. Besides which, if Ruby’s right, and there is a mine, then that is our real concern, and derailing the train won’t do anything.”

“It will slow them down,” Blake insisted.

“And get us killed in the process,” Sunset replied.

“I get what you’re saying about the train, but we’re going to have to draw them down on us anyway,” Rainbow said. “You see that there? That tripod?” She pointed, as surreptitiously as she could, towards a metal tripod, with a pole rising out of it, planted in the middle of the rail yard. There was a kind of reverse tripod on top, three more metal bars, glowing bright blue on their outward faces, jutting out from the central pole. “That is-”

“An Atlesian AJ-40 CC jammer,” Blake murmured.

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “It’s why we suddenly lost comms with Twilight.”

“Why do you even make things to jam communications?” Sunset muttered. “Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys?”

Rainbow ignored that. “If we can take that out, I can get hold of Twilight and let her know what we’ve found out; she can pass it on to General Ironwood. Unfortunately, once we take out the jammer-”

“They’ll know we’re here,” Sunset said.

“I’m pretty sure they already know we’re here.”

“They know we’re in the city, but they don’t know we’re here here,” Sunset replied. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s told them we were heading this way. But they’ll know once we destroy that jamming device.”

“Professor Goodwitch is going to come back once she’s dropped Penny and Ciel off,” Rainbow said. “Since we’re going to draw their attention anyway, I’ll find Applejack, and maybe she’ll be in a state to help us as well. Plus, Ciel is going to call for Team Tsunami to back us up. With Professor Goodwitch and Applejack, we should be able to hold out until they get here, and then with their help, we can definitely hold out until the troops from our support cruisers arrive to drop the heavy end of the hammer on them.” She smiled. “Who knows, maybe there’ll be time for the General to get the main force out here.”

A shrill whistle cut through the air of the railyard, the whistle of a train about to depart.

“Or maybe the train is about to start and they’re ready to go now,” Sunset muttered.

“We don’t have time to wait for Team Tsunami or Professor Goodwitch,” Ruby declared. “We have to do something!”

“If we stop the train now, then surely, the delay will be better than nothing?” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Sunset said. “We… we… okay, here’s what we do. We take out the jammer, and Rainbow gets a message out to Twilight. With the train about to leave, I don’t think they’ll delay moving to deal with us. The ones hanging around will shoot back, but not the rest. They’ll start the train.”

“Isn’t that bad?” Jaune asked.

“Hang on!” Sunset snapped. “We’ll get on the train before it leaves. Then, once the train is in the subway tunnel, we can make our way to the front of the train, stop it, and Pyrrha can use her semblance, amped by Jaune, to block the tunnel with the train. It’ll be cramped down there; even with the Paladins, they’ll have a harder time removing the block, and in that time, the Atlesian forces can come down on them. They’ll take care of the White Fang, disarm any mine that might be at the other end of the tunnel; meanwhile, we’ll escape using the subway stations or the emergency exit hatches and get picked up by an airship.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Blake observed.

Sunset shrugged. “Well, it’s only a matter of fighting our way through a small army of the White Fang and then possibly surviving in a city full of grimm until our evac arrives, right?”

The slightest hint of a smile crossed Blake’s face. “Sunset,” she said. “All your best speeches acknowledge the real risks, even if that is because it’s step two in Professor Goodwitch’s formula.”

“I did not learn that formula from Professor Goodwitch,” Sunset informed Blake sternly.

“My point is,” Blake murmured, “if we do stop that train… there’s a good chance that we won’t make it out of that tunnel alive. The odds are against us, and the situation is grim. But- I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but… that… what I suppose I’m trying to say is that I could die a lot worse than fighting in defence of those that cannot defend themselves.” She looked around at all of them, her gaze flitting from Sunset, to Pyrrha, to Ruby, to Jaune, and finally, to Rainbow Dash. “And I could certainly die a lot worse than in your company, my friends. And I’m not sure I could die better.”

“That’s very kind of you, Blake,” Pyrrha murmured. “And we accept it in the spirit in which it was intended, I’m sure. For my own part… though it would not be my choice, the risk is a constant companion in the life of a huntress. And if it is our fate, then what is there to be done but welcome it with the courage of the heroes of old when their appointed hours arrived?” She glanced at Jaune but said nothing.

Nor did Jaune say anything either. His facial expression was grim but resolute. He seemed to tighten his grip on the sword he had borrowed from Sunset.

“If we die for Vale, then it’s worth it,” Ruby said. “So long as Vale survives, then anything’s worth it.”

“'Through my sacrifice shall the city prosper and our enemies fail,'” Rainbow muttered. Unlike the good stuff that Pyrrha and Blake had come up with, it was not an original thought to her, but rather, an Atlesian commonplace, something… something to put into words why it was all worthwhile.

Girls, I might not make it to Sugarcube Corner after all.

Sunset looked as though she was starting to sweat. “Mhm. What, um… what all of the noble hearts around me said.” Her voice was gruff, as though she had something stuck in it.

Not like you to miss the chance to make a speech, Rainbow thought. Not that it really mattered; there were more important things to think of.

“Once the jammer is down, you should get on the train as soon as it starts to move,” Rainbow told them. “I’ll join you, but I need to free Applejack first.”

“How are you going to find her?” Blake asked. “It’s not like we have much time.”

Rainbow looked over the barricade of rails, her gaze sweeping across the railyard. There was no sign of Applejack… but she did see Winona, scratching at the door to a little shed not far from where they were, a respectable distance from where the White Fang were working.

“Good girl, Winona,” Rainbow murmured. “I know where to go, don’t worry.”

The whistle blew again and was followed by the low rumbling of the engine as the entire train began to shake with suppressed power, the energy of the great engine waiting to be unleashed.

“Okay, Ruby,” Rainbow said. “Now!”

Ruby stood up, Crescent Rose unfolding in her hands, the long barrel extending outwards with hisses and clicks until it was its full length, and the great blade was extended.

She rested the barrel of the sniper rifle upon the stacked up rails and fired.

Her single shot destroyed the jamming device, knocking the tripod onto its side as the jammer itself exploded in a shower of sparks and debris.

Cries of alarm rose from the throats of the White Fang in the railyard. Gilda shouted something that Rainbow couldn’t properly make out, gesturing in the direction of the shot and towards the train.

The sounds of the engine grew louder.

Bullets began to fly overhead as the White Fang opened fire at Ruby. Ruby fired back; Crescent Rose snapped, joined by the higher-pitched staccato crackles of Sol Invictus and Miló as Pyrrha and Sunset joined with Ruby.

The White Fang sought cover as some amongst them were knocked flat by the accurate fire of the huntresses, diving behind crates of supplies as they sprayed inaccurate automatic fire in the direction of their opponents.

Slowly, like some great beast stirring to life after a long sleep, the train began to move; it was so slow, you could barely notice it, the engine straining to get its long tail of heavily-loaded wagons moving, but it was starting.

Rainbow ran. She left a rainbow trail behind her as she ran, spraying fire from Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome in both hands to make the White Fang keep their heads down as she crossed the open space, rounds flying around her, to reach the door to the shed at which Winona was pawing and sniffing.

Still shooting with both her SMGs, Rainbow backed into the door, pushing it open before she dived inside and around the wall, Winona leaping in after her.

Applejack, bound and gagged and secured to a chair, let out a muffled sound.

Rainbow grinned at her as bullets flew through the doorway and slammed into the far wall. “Hey, Applejack. How are you doing?”

Applejack strained at her chair, her green eyes bulging as she tried to shout through her gag.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going to get you out,” Rainbow said, holstering both her SMGs and crossing the shed to where Applejack sat bound. She uncuffed and untied her first, then took the gag out of her friend’s mouth. “There, better now?”

Applejack rubbed her wrists as she stood up. “I see this ain’t a subtle rescue,” she observed as bullets slammed into the door.

“If you wanted a subtle rescue, you should have chosen a different friend,” Rainbow said. “How are you?”

“Ah’ll be fine,” Applejack assured her. “Did Fluttershy-?”

“She’s fine too; she’s safe aboard The Bus,” Rainbow told her.

“Well, that’s some good news,” Applejack said. She glared at Rainbow Dash. “Comin' here was reckless. Thanks.”

“Any time,” Rainbow said. “I’d give you a hug, but now isn’t really the best time.”

“No, I guess it ain’t,” Applejack observed, picking up her rifle from where someone had helpfully placed it in the corner of the shed. “What’s going on?”

“Listen in while I tell Twilight,” Rainbow told her, as she tapped her earpiece to unmute it.

“-BOW DASH, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Twilight’s voice erupted into her ear so loud that Rainbow leaned away in a futile and absurd effort to get away from it.

“Yes, Twilight, I can hear you; there’s no need to shout.”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT, I’VE BEEN TRYING TO-”

“Twilight!” Rainbow yelled. “I’m sorry, the White Fang started jamming communications, and we lost contact, but I need you to listen right now. I’ve got Applejack-”

“That’s great news! Is she okay?”

“I’m not done yet, Twi,” Rainbow warned her. “Can you patch me through to The Bus as well as you? And put me on speaker; Trixie and Starlight need to hear this.”

“Sure, I can… is that gunfire?”

“Yes, Twilight, it’s gunfire, which is part of the reason we need to make this quick,” Rainbow said.

Applejack leaned around the doorway briefly to let fly with One in a Thousand, working the lever on her rifle before discharging a second shot. “There’s a train out there,” she observed.

“I know there’s a train!” Rainbow yelled.

“What’s that about a train?” Twilight asked.

“Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I’ve reached your airship with Miss Soleil and Miss Polendina. I’m about to start back to you now.”

“There’s no time, Professor,” Rainbow said. “Trixie, Starlight, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Trixie said. “I can hear you, Rainbow Dash.”

“We can all hear you,” Starlight added. “What’s going on?”

“The White Fang are planning a full scale attack on Vale,” Rainbow explained. “They’ve got a train loaded with troops and all the gear they’ve been stealing from us, and they’re going to run it down the tunnel and… we don’t know if they’re going to ram the train through into Vale or blow up the barrier, but either way, they’re going to breach the defences and pour their army right into Vale.”

“With our ships overhead?” Starlight gasped. “That’s suicide!”

“Sure it is, but as Ruby says, they can do some nasty damage before they go down,” Rainbow replied. “The worst part is that it’s happening right now; the train is about to leave. Professor, there’s no time for you to get here, and there’s no time for Team Tsunami to get here either. We’re going to board the train with what we’ve got now and try to derail them in the tunnel to cut them off.”

“But then you’ll be stuck in the tunnel, won’t you?” Twilight said.

“We’ll get out somehow,” Rainbow told her. Hopefully, it was true. “When we do, I’ll get in touch.”

Starlight said, “But you will still be-?”

“Performing an act of great gallantry,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Worthy of a huntress. If you are determined to do this, then I wish you luck.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Rainbow said. “Twilight, I need you and Team Tsunami to head back to Vale and tell the General what’s happening. He can make sure the guns are warmed up and ready when the White Fang break through. Professor, can you stay here and wait for Applejack-?”

“Hell no!” Applejack said loudly. “Ah’m not walking back to no airship all by mahself while you go pullin’ some crazy stunt! My aura’s come back, Ah can fight. Ah’m with you till the end of the line.”

“You’re not part of this team-”

“No, but Ah’m here, ain’t I?”

Rainbow said, “There’s a chance this could be a one-way ticket. What am I supposed to tell Apple Bloom?”

“There’s always a chance that it could be a one-way ticket,” Applejack grunted, shooting out the door again. “What am Ah supposed to say ta Scootaloo?”

“Uh, fine,” Rainbow muttered. “Stubborn as a mule.”

“That’s mah line,” Applejack said calmly.

“Okay, Professor, you should head back to Vale as well, get Fluttershy and Penny to safety.”

“I feel aggrieved,” Ciel declared, “that I am not with you.”

Rainbow smiled. “I miss you too, Ciel,” she said. “Now did everyone get that? Is everyone clear?”

“Understood,” Trixie said, in a solemn voice. “We’ll bring the news back, have no fear.”

“Good luck,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And I still expect to see you back in class.”

“May the Lady watch over you,” Ciel murmured.

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight murmured tremulously. “I-”

“Rainbow Dash!” Sunset’s bellowing voice cut through the sounds of gunfire.

“I’ve gotta go, Twi; my train’s about to leave,” Rainbow said, muting the earpiece.

See you around, I hope.

Rainbow looked out the door. The train was really starting to move now, grinding its way down the rails, pulling its long tail behind it. Soon, it would be moving too fast to be caught up with, but as things stood, they might just catch the rear carriage, where Blake and all the members of Team SAPR were already waiting, returning fire with the White Fang in the yard.

“You ready to run?” she asked Applejack.

Applejack scooped up Winona and held her underneath her arm. “You bet Ah’m ready to run.”

“Okay then,” Rainbow said. “Go!”

Rainbow covered Applejack as she sprinted out of the shed, firing with both her SMGs to keep the White Fang on their toes and their attention away from Applejack as she ran, rifle in one hand and dog beneath the other, crossing the open ground from the shed which had been her holding cell towards the moving train. As she approached, she threw Winona into Jaune’s arms, knocking the boy to the floor of the open porch at the back of the rail car, before Applejack herself leapt up, grabbing one of the metallic rails to haul herself aboard.

“Rainbow Dash!” Sunset shouted again, gesturing furiously with one hand.

“Oh, come on, Sunset, give me some credit,” Rainbow said as she surged out of the shed at top speed, trailing a rainbow behind her. The air buffeted her face as though it was a high wind, but as she ran, the train seemed almost to have stopped, any speed that it had picked up disappearing.

Rainbow ran, and everything else was in slow motion, pushing through treacle while she was the only one who still moved in a world of air and freedom. The bullets from the guns of the White Fang, the train, her friends, they were all trapped, all restrained, all so, so slow.

The train had barely moved at all by the time Rainbow jumped aboard, only speeding up once more as she did so.

“I half-expected you to wait longer so you could get your wings out and fly after us,” Sunset grumbled.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Rainbow said, grinning as she looked back at the White Fang still in the railyard.

Her eyes fixed on Gilda, a distinctive sight with the wings emerging out from her back, her gun lowered, staring right back at Rainbow Dash.

Get out of here, G, while there’s still time.

Somewhere in Mountain Glenn, a beowolf began to howl.

Then another. Then another. Howling, howling, howling, the howling of beowolves echoing through the city of the dead, drowning out all other sounds.

“What in tarnation?” Applejack muttered.

“You know how the grimm have been very quiet up until now?” Sunset asked. “Sounds like that’s over.”

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: Quite a few changes here, but very few that are big enough to be singled out; Blake and Sunset get a scene to themselves in the aftermath of Adam's death, Cinder gets a scene with Emerald; and there are some changes at the rail yard to take account of altered circumstances, like there not being a Twilight there and Goodwitch having already been sent back.

Grimm Tide (New)

Grimm Tide

Cinder stood upon the highest tower in the undercity of Mountain Glenn, the city of the dead spread out before her, lifeless… save for the grimm.

She was connected to them. Salem had bestowed that… gift upon her. It was a burden that she had taken on willingly, and for the sake of her destiny, she had endured it. And now… now, she could feel them.

Not even huntsmen really understood what the grimm were, still less those who huddled behind their walls and armies and dreaded the howling of the beowolves; old, fat Professor Port, prattling about demons and creatures of the night, telling his impenetrable stories, he had no idea what he had been hunting all this time.

They were bound together, their minds conjoined, all bound back through invisible and yet unbreakable chains to Salem, their mistress. Out of darkness, the grimm were made; back to darkness, they returned; and that darkness linked them all in a great song, a rhapsody of death and destruction that echoed through the link, passed from mind to mind, echoing across Remnant.

She was a part of that song now, a violin solo playing amidst a concert of deep brass horns and booming drums and keening woodwind instruments. She was a part of them, just as they were a part of her, and as they were a part of her, they would listen. They would even, to an extent, obey; she was not just one of them, after all; she had the mark of Salem’s favour on her. Plus, she was stronger than they were, and the song of the grimm valued strength amongst its apex alphas.

Whole hordes would bow before her, if she could only gather them in one place.

That was… difficult. Her connection to the grimm did not give her power over them, to move them as she would like pieces on a game board; even Salem would struggle to do thus, at this distance from Vale at least, and Cinder was not so bound to the creatures of destruction as her mistress was. She had placed the chills and the callisto in the path of Sunset and her friends, but she had done that before they had arrived, physically approaching the chills, receiving the obeisance of the callisto, directing them to where she wished them to lie in wait. She was not a general, broadcasting commands to her obedient soldiers; rather, she was more like a feudal lord, who could compel obedience but only with her physical presence.

Only one thing could she do en masse, only one command could she issue through the link, and that was to abdicate control, vest herself of power, and set the grimm of Mountain Glenn free upon their basest instincts.

She could feel them, all of them; the link was… tentative, in places, but it was there. She could feel the beowolves, she could feel the creeps, she could feel the ursai and the king taijitu, she could feel that which men had awoken in the darkness as they delved too deep; she could feel them all.

Some were patient, some were eager, some strained for release. By Salem’s will, they held back, not harming the White Fang, not attacking Ozpin’s agents unless she had given them previous instruction to do so, acting as blockers to deny passage through certain areas to Sunset and the rest, passively herding them where she, Cinder, wished them to go.

The time for that was over now. The train was leaving the station, literally.

Time to set the grimm free.

She closed her eyes, and through that link, she sent a simple message to all her fellow creatures of destruction.

Stay no more.

The effect was immediate and electrifying. There was so much emotion swirling about this city, so much anger, so much fear; the train that had just departed was like a beacon to the grimm, drawing them like bees to honey.

Now, the honey was headed straight for Vale, and the bees would follow and sting whatever they found there.

And die, as bees did, but how much pain would they inflict before they died?

As the howling of the beowolves began, as it tore from the throat of one grimm after another, as the song of the violence and bloodshed echoed from every crumbling wall to strike the false stars that glimmered in the ceiling, as the towers of Mountain Glenn trembled at the sound, Cinder smiled.

Now the real fun began.

Gilda raised the boxy Valish assault rifle to her shoulder and fired. Once, twice, three times, the rifle roared in controlled bursts before the beowolf that had been charging towards her finally dropped dead and died about six feet away from her.

She heard someone screaming. It took her less than a moment to see someone being dragged away by another beowolf, the grimm’s claws digging into the back of the rabbit faunus as it pulled him into the darkness.

Gilda gritted her teeth as she slung her rifle over her shoulder, spreading her wings and leaping forwards, gliding through the air to more quickly cover the distance between her and the desperate faunus, his fingernails digging into the earth as he tried to stop the grimm from dragging him into the darkness.

Swallow strike!

Gilda’s semblance wasn’t the fanciest, and it certainly wasn’t the most powerful; essentially, it let her strike three times with her sword in the time it would have ordinarily taken her to strike once. But sometimes, that was all it took. Like now, when a trio of swift strikes as she fell upon them were enough to slice the offending beowolf in half.

Gilda helped the rabbit faunus to his feet as the grimm started to turn to smoke. She draped one arm across her shoulders and lifted him up. “There’s a wounded man here; get him on the truck!”

Willing faunus ran to help her, and their willing hands took the injured fighter off of Gilda and helped him to one of the trucks now serving as ambulances. Already, the back was filled with injured faunus, with red and raw bite marks on their arms and legs from where the grimm had gotten them. As soon as the rabbit was helped aboard, the truck rumbled and started to roll quickly towards the industrial elevator that was their only way out of this trap.

Damn Cinder Fall and everything about her! And where was she now, anyway? She’d disappeared at a very convenient time, considering that the indulgence with which the grimm had seemingly been regarding them had now run out and they were coming under a ferocious attack. One minute, they’d only had Dashie and her friends to worry about, and the next, it was like every grimm in the city had just woken up and decided that it wanted a piece of them. What had been an exercise in quickly packing up everything that they needed was turning into a scramble to get everybody out in one piece before the creatures of grimm devoured them all.

Beowolves, creeps, king taijitu, even a few ursai were pouring out of the darkness in great waves, intent on devouring every last faunus there. Every hand that could hold a gun was shooting, every faunus that could fight was on the line pouring fire out into the darkness to try and hold their perimeter; Gilda had, in what was probably her greatest break with Adam’s wishes, held back a few Paladins from the train, just in case they came in useful, and they were all coming in very useful now to bolster the defence, their great guns roaring and missiles flying from their racks. They were fighting with everything, every weapon and every faunus that remained to them, but was it enough? Could it be enough against the sheer number of grimm that were hurling themselves at the White Fang from all directions?

No. No, it wouldn’t be enough, just like hadn’t been enough for the humans who had tried to settle this place once before. And the White Fang should have learnt from their example.

The question was not 'could they hold the Mountain Glenn base?' The answer to that was 'no.' The ammunition would run out, the Paladins would fall – Gilda could see one of them being crushed in the coils of a king taijitu, the great serpent seeming to take no notice at all of the robotic fists hammering into it as it curled around and around the armoured body as the Paladin started crumpling under the pressure; another Paladin had been half-buried under a half-dozen beowolves led by an alpha, which were gradually ripping its armour apart with their claws – and the defences would be overrun, no matter how bravely they tried to hold them.

No, the real question was 'could they get everybody out of Mountain Glenn before this place became a tomb for the White Fang as well as for the humans who had built it?' That was Gilda’s challenge, and she very much hoped that the answer was 'yes.'

A boarbatusk broke through the defensive perimeter, trampling upon a leopard faunus before charging straight for Gilda, his tusks gleaming.

Strongheart intercepted the creature on the wall, blindsiding it with her semblance and ramming it onto its side where she shot it four times to be sure. “Gilda!” she cried, running up to her even as she began reloading her rifle. “What are we going to do?”

“Whatever we can,” Gilda muttered. “So long as we can hold for just-”

“Not that, the train! We have to stop them!” Strongheart yelled. “Or they’ll stop the train!”

A part of Gilda knew that Strongheart was absolutely right. The train was the whole plan. The train was everything, and if Dash and her allies stopped the train, then this whole miserable experience would have been for absolutely nothing. They’d spent weeks – months – preparing the train; Adam had almost certainly given his life buying time to get the train – just about – moving before the enemy got to it. The train had most of their men and most of their equipment on board. If the train was halted, then there was no point to any of this.

But right now, Gilda couldn’t honestly say that she gave a damn. She’d been sincere and honest when she told Adam that that train was rolling into a death trap, and as she watched a substantial amount of grimm break off their attack on the White Fang base to follow the train down into the tunnel to Vale, she felt vindicated already in her bleak assessment.

And what would the train get the White Fang, really? It was Cinder Fall’s idea, Cinder’s plan, Cinder’s conjuring trick; it might be better if Dash could stop the train early and all the good faunus on it could get out before it was too late.

“There’s nothing that we can do about that,” Gilda said. “The guys on the train will have to defend the train as best they can. We’ve got our own problems.” She gunned down another creep.

“So we’re not going to do anything?” Strongheart demanded. “We’re just going to let this happen?”

“Do you have any ideas?” Gilda asked.

Strongheart didn’t reply. Not at first, anyway. “Do you… do you think they’ll make it?”

“I don’t know,” Gilda said, and she didn’t even know if she hoped it either. What she hoped for was the best chance for them to survive; she just wished she knew what that best chance was. “Like I said, we have to focus on ourselves right now.”

They abandoned their equipment. The guns, the ammo, the explosives, even the dust, everything that hadn’t been packed up and moved out already when the grimm attack started was left behind. None of it mattered in the face of the snarling, bestial horror bearing down on them. The White Fang wore masks to make themselves look like grimm, to become the monsters of nightmare that the humans already thought they were, but in the face of the real deal, with the real monsters howling as they surged out of the darkness to rend, tear, and devour, the White Fang were reminded that they were not monsters, but men, and just as vulnerable to fear and doubt and terror as those whom they had thought to make fear them.

Some fought, some fled, some died screaming and begging for mercy of the creatures that were wholly and utterly incapable of mercy. They retreated. They left the stolen Atlesian property that they hadn’t already moved out. Some of the dust, they detonated as they retreated, some of the grenades and explosives too, turning them into improvised landmines to incinerate whole packs of beowolves in the fire, but it wasn’t enough.

It was never going to be enough.

They fell back. They lost the Paladins as they retreated, the armoured titans falling one by one in the face of the flood of black and bone-encrusted death. They lost faunus too, good people, brave people, bad people, cowards; they lost them all, but the survivors managed to make it to the elevator, cramming themselves onto the platform, crushing each other tightly in their desperation to leave no one behind, knowing that this would be their only chance to get out. Winged faunus began to fly up the shaft, leaving more space for the others who pressed on, tightly together, until only Gilda remained not on the platform.

Gilda slammed her fist into the red button by the side of the elevator shaft, and the metallic mesh doors began to descend as the elevator platform began to rise.

“Gilda!” Strongheart shouted from on the now-rising platform. “What are you doing?”

“Regroup in the hills above the city. I’ll find you there,” Gilda said. “I’m going to get Adam’s body.” If he was dead – and she had no doubt that he was, because there was no way that the Sword of the Faunus would have abandoned the faunus when they needed him in the face of this grim, grimm tide – then he deserved better than to rot in the darkness, to be devoured by rats or grimm or simply left to rot. He might have been born in darkness, formed and forged and nurtured by it, but in death, he deserved to lie under sunlight, properly interred.

And so, as the elevator rose up towards the surface, Gilda spread her wings and soared up into the air, towards the ceiling of Mountain Glenn; fortunately, there were no flying grimm around, and all the beowolves and the creeps below could only roar and hiss at her in abject futility as she flew safely above their heads and beyond their reach.

Some of them clawed and tore at the mesh, but by that point, the elevator was out of their reach as well, and though some of them began to climb up the shaft, they were doing so so slowly that there wasn’t much chance of them catching it, and anyway, they’d still be below the elevator platform if they did.

Which was probably why most of them turned away, roaring and howling and bellowing as they flooded down the subway tunnel after the train.

Gilda could only hope that her comrades on the train would be okay. And, as strange as it might sound, she hoped that Dash would be okay too. She might be the enemy, she might be a dog of the Atlesian military, she might have betrayed their friendship and not even mentioned Gilda to her new friends – what was that about? – but she was still, in spite of all of that, Gilda’s friend. She deserved better than to go out that way.

Nobody deserved to go out that way.

Stay safe, she thought, as she began to search for Adam. Stay safe, everyone, even you, Dash.

It was a forlorn hope, and a stupid one at that, because there was no way that everyone was going to be safe, and if even a few survived, it would be a miracle, but as she flew, the last living person in a city once more reclaimed by death and darkness, looking for the body of a great man for whom a decent burial was the last and only way she could yet serve him well, it was the only hope she had to cling to.

The train sped down the tracks, rumbling and rattling as it went.

And death followed after.

Grimm hordes – like the one that the team leaders had dealt with in the Emerald Forest, like the one that had descended on Vale after Mountain Glenn fell – typically moved slowly. They let fear and panic run before them like heralds, and in their slow, meandering progress, allowed the fear of those upon whom they bore with the inexorable nature of the tide to draw yet more grimm forth to swell the numbers of the horde.

But they could also move with thunderclap speed when the mood took them. And it had taken them now. It was only the fact that the train was barreling down the track at truly ridiculous speed that was keeping it ahead of the grimm who ran after.

To the howling of the beowolves was added snarling, growling, roaring, hissing, all the sounds that grimm could make as they swarmed after the train, pursuing it down the rails like a dog chasing a car. They swarmed down the tracks, they swarmed in from the city streets on either side, they swarmed in from the metro stations, having descended from the city above. They bared their fangs and swiped their claws and leapt at the train from the side only to rebound off the cars, and they pursued. As the train entered the long tunnel that would take it towards Vale, the grimm followed after in a great black tide.

A tide which held them captive. They were spellbound by the force of destruction which followed them, mesmerised by the darkness and the bony black masks. None of them could tear their eyes away from it.

“Was this… was this the plan all along?” Jaune asked, his voice cracking. “Was this what they meant to happen?”

“No!” Blake cried. “No, it can’t be, this… everyone on this train… the grimm won’t care who’s White Fang and who isn’t; they’ll kill everyone.”

“Everyone,” Pyrrha murmured. Her face was pale, and her gilded adornments had lost their lustre in the darkness of this tunnel. “If the barrier is breached, if these grimm get into Vale-”

“Then Atlas will stop them,” Rainbow Dash declared.

So sure? Sunset thought to herself. There are so many, and they roar so loud. What can men do against such numbers and such reckless hate?

“Are you sure?” Blake asked. “Are you sure that they can? There are so many of them-”

“And that won’t help them one bit when they’re stuck trying to squeeze their way through a bottleneck into the teeth of our fire,” Rainbow insisted. “Once Twilight tells the General what’s happening-”

“Twilight only knows about the White Fang,” Blake said. “Not the grimm.”

“Bullets will take care of them both,” Rainbow said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ruby declared. “Because neither the grimm nor the White Fang are going to get anywhere near Vale, because we’re going to stop this train and block the tunnel. That will hold the grimm too, right?”

With those numbers? Sunset thought. I’m not so sure.

“For a little while, at least,” Applejack said. “Until someone can come up with something else.”

“Then nothing’s changed,” Ruby said. “We have to get to the front of the train.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed, nodding her head as if she was seeking to reassure herself. “Yes, you’re right. You’re right, Ruby,” she repeated, glancing down at Ruby with a faint smile upon her face. “Thank you.”

“Does it strike anyone else here as a little weird that we’ve been allowed to stand her yabberin’ on and nobody inside the train has tried to throw us off?” Applejack wondered aloud.

“Well, now that you mention it,” Rainbow muttered, and as everyone turned and aimed a gun, if they had one, towards the door into the first car, Rainbow pushed it open with the muzzle of her shotgun.

It became apparent why nobody inside had rushed to attack them: because there was nobody inside. The car was bare, just an empty metal box rattling along the rails, with nothing and nobody in it.

“Huh,” Applejack said. “Ah guess they didn’t have time to load up every car before they left.”

Blake scrambled up the ladder climbing the back wall of the car, getting up onto the roof as the train sped along. Her wild tangle of black hair flew out behind her, blasted back by the movement of the train.

“They may not have had time to load every car,” she observed, “but they loaded enough of them.”

Sunset teleported onto the roof to stand beside her, even as Blake cleared space for the others to climb up as well.

They could see the White Fang, hundreds of White Fang by the look of it, advancing across the roofs of the railways cars with blades and guns held in their hands, a mass of men in white masks bearing down upon them.

And beyond, Sunset thought she could see Paladins beginning to stir to life like giants slumbering beneath the earth for untold aeons.

“I guess they know we’re here,” Jaune groaned.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Rainbow said. “Applejack, you, Blake, and Winona go through the train. Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby, you’ll go over the train with me. Sunset, once they’re committed, you can teleport behind them and get to the front of the train before they can do anything about it. We’ll catch up.”

“And leave the rest of you?” Sunset demanded. “No!”

“We’ll catch up,” Rainbow assured.

“Then why do I need to rush ahead?”

“Because the sooner we stop the train, the better, right?” Rainbow asked.

Sunset sighed. She didn’t like this. She did not like this one bit.

“You will watch your friends die all around you.”

“You will be powerless to help them.”

“They will be taken from you in an instant.”

“One by one, they all shall fall: to darkness, and to me.”

Get out of my head!

She didn’t like this. She did not like this one bit. But she couldn’t confess just why she didn’t like it, and so… and so… so she would do it.

Her words will not come to pass. They will not.

“Everyone ready?” Rainbow asked.

Blake leapt down to rejoin Applejack. “Ready,” she said.

Winona barked.

“Ah’m ready, Sugarcube,” Applejack declared.

Ruby cocked Crescent Rose. “Ready,” she said eagerly.

“Okay then,” Rainbow said. “Let’s go!”

And so they charged forwards, over and through the train, into battle with the White Fang.

And the grimm horde followed them.

Defined by Choice (Rewritten)

Defined by Choice

Sunset teleported onto the roof of the engine, at the very head of the train, wobbling a little as it careened – somebody really had their foot on the accelerator, or whatever it was they used to get a train to speed up – down the track and down the tunnel heading for Vale.

She could hear the sounds of gunshots behind her, and she only needed to look around to see her teammates and her friends still fighting their way to the front of the train to join her. Rainbow Dash, with her wings, was closest, but all of them were still a way off yet. The White Fang were not skilled, but they were numerous, and they had deployed a lot of Paladins to keep SAPR and Rainbow Dash from reaching the engine. Sheer numbers were turning it into a slog, coupled with the sheer length of the train itself, both of which were reasons why Sunset had, in spite of her reluctance to abandon the others, teleported beyond the fighting to the engine itself.

She had taken longer to do it than she probably should have done – she had stayed in the fighting longer than literally anyone other than her had wanted her to. By the time that she had broken off to head for the front of the train, Sunset had gotten the distinct impression that it was only the fact that Pyrrha was a perfect lady that was stopping her from smacking Sunset upside the head and yelling at her to get a move on.

Of course, to Sunset, she had moved too fast, not fought for long enough. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she had fought for – ten minutes? twenty? longer? – but it had been too long for her friends and not long enough for her. She had hoped that they would win through together, brush the resistance of the White Fang aside and make it here all as one.

Unfortunately, with the White Fang’s numbers – and number of Paladins more importantly, and the fact that they needed to preserve at least some of Jaune’s aura to boost Pyrrha enough to move the train, which meant that everyone else had to preserve their auras so they didn’t need to call on him too much – meant that it was not to be. Eventually, even Sunset had been forced to admit that.

Still, she was here now, and Vale hadn’t fallen yet. She was here now, and all she had to do was actually get into the engine, hit the brake, and all the plans of Cinder Fall and the White Fang would come screeching to a literal halt.

The roaring of the horde of grimm who were chasing the train echoed off the walls of the tunnel as an enormous mass of nearly every kind of grimm native to Vale chased them down the rail line.

The thought of what would happen if that horde of grimm caught up with them – as would inevitably happen if Sunset stopped the train – sent a shiver down her spine.

Yes, the plan was that Pyrrha – boosted by Jaune – could then grab the train and move it off the rails and wedge it sideways to block the tunnel, but how long would that last? It was one thing to talk about it holding back the White Fang; it was one thing to think that if they jammed it properly, even the Paladins would have a hard time freeing it, but all those grimm? Would they not simply tear through the metal, rip the engine apart with their teeth and claws, rip and bite and batter their way through that human work until they had gotten through it and could reach the people on the other side?

Sunset wasn’t a coward. She was not a coward. She wasn’t afraid to fight; she wasn’t even afraid to die in a good cause.

But she was afraid, she was very much afraid, of losing the people who mattered to her in one fell swoop.

“You will watch your friends die all around you.”

“You will be powerless to help them.”

“They will be taken from you in an instant.”

“One by one, they all shall fall: to darkness, and to me.”

I don’t want to be alone again.

Maybe it would be better to- no. No, she couldn’t think that. The others… they were all so noble and determined to do the right thing no matter the circumstances, no matter the cost; there was no way they’d ever forgive her if she did something like that. There was no way that they’d ever forgive her if she even suggested it.

She would have to stop the train and take the consequences, whatever they might be.

However dire they might be.

She swung down off the roof and onto the back of the engine. The cab itself was sealed off by a pair of very solid-looking metal doors, but nobody seemed to have actually locked said doors, and they opened as soon as Sunset pushed the green button on the right-hand side.

The armoured door – the pointless armoured door, unless there was a lock and somebody had just forgotten to engage it – slid open, to reveal a single faunus, an elephant perhaps, judging by the tusks growing out of his mouth, whom Sunset was quickly able to incapacitate with a single blast from her palm as he was turning around.

She strode into the compartment, leaving the door open behind her for her allies to join her, and in a few strides had made her way to the control panel at the front of the train. There were no windows, but a monitor connected to some cameras mounted to the front showed her the monotonous tunnel before her as the train ate up the track with ravenous speed.

There was some sort of trigger sitting on top of the control panel, a black, hand-sized wand with a red button at the tip. Sunset eyed it for a moment but didn’t touch it; she had no idea what it did; for all she knew, it was a failsafe that would blow up the whole train for… reasons. Best to let it alone and hope that if it was left alone, it wouldn’t do anything. Ignoring it, Sunset looked down at the complex controls on the panels below, all the levers and buttons and dials spread out before her. Who knew that a train would be so complicated? She was expecting… start and stop, honestly; it wasn’t as if this thing could be steered. There were a lot of readouts, speed and stability and so on, and what looked like even more indicator panels that weren’t lit, possibly because nobody was in a station anywhere sending signals to the train.

Honestly, if Sunset hadn’t spotted the red button marked ‘EMERGENCY BRAKE,’ she wouldn’t have known where to begin with stopping this thing. She wasn’t sure that anybody other than the absent Twilight would have had a clue.

Well, time to stop this train, I guess. Stop the train and… and take what comes.

Here goes.

Sunset’s fingers moved gingerly towards the big red button on its yellow-and-black plate.

She hesitated. Her fingers stuck, trembling in place as though her fears had made manifest and grabbed her by the wrist to prevent her touch.

She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to stop this train, not yet, not without more of an idea of how they were actually going to survive once the train was stopped.

She didn’t have that idea… but she had to do it anyway. She had to because… because what else was she going to do? And how would she explain it?

She had to do this for the others. Even though it was for the others that she didn’t want to do it yet – or at all.

Sunset breathed in and out. I have to do this. If I don’t do this, they’ll never forgive me.

They won’t be around to-

Look, one of them will get here themselves, then they’ll push the button, so unless you want to have to explain why you stood here not pressing a button, why don’t you just push the damn thing and get it over with?

It’s like getting an injection. It won’t hurt as much as you’re afraid it will.

Sunset’s fingers shifted forward millimetre by painful millimetre.

“Congratulations, Sunset,” Cinder’s voice oozed out of a pair of speakers mounted to the front wall and into the compartment, accompanied by the sound of some decidedly sarcastic clapping. “It took you longer than I was expecting. I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess that you were dawdling because you didn’t want to leave your teammates to fight on without your brilliant leadership. Still, you got here in the end.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. She guessed that under more normal circumstances, the speakers that Cinder was using would be part of a system to communicate between the train and either the station or some kind of HQ, and therefore, she spoke in the assumption that there was a microphone somewhere around here that would pick up her words.

“Hello again, Cinder.”

“I’m sorry that I’m not here to greet you in person,” Cinder said, “or to congratulate you for getting this far.”

“If you wanted to see me again, you could have shown yourself in the street earlier,” Sunset pointed out. “But you decided that you’d rather dance with Pyrrha instead of me. I’m hurt.”

“Aren’t you going to thank me for sparing her life?” Cinder asked. “I know that you’d be terribly upset if she were gone.”

Sunset snorted. “‘Sparing her life’?” She repeated. “The way I heard it, you ran off once you realised how outmatched you were.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice had acquired a sharper edge. “Is that what Pyrrha told you? Did she tell you that I was outmatched by her?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly; clearly, she had pricked Cinder’s pride more sharply than she had intended to, angered her in ways that she hadn’t meant to; that anger might be visited on Pyrrha when next they met if Sunset let it stand. “Pyrrha is very disappointed in herself that she didn’t skewer you on Miló’s tip. I just got the impression… I mean you did quit the field.”

“As I said,” Cinder pronounced, “I had no desire to cause you the pain of Pyrrha’s passing. That does not mean that I was losing. As for Pyrrha’s disappointment, tell her not to take it too hard… she never stood a chance of overcoming me.”

“Really?” Sunset asked dryly.

“I fought that battle with one hand behind my back,” Cinder declared. “As Pyrrha will discover if she is so bold as to cross swords with me again.”

“I’ll bet,” Sunset muttered. “Listen, Cinder, I don’t mean to be rude, and normally nothing would please me better than to while away the time talking to you, but I’m a little busy right now, so-”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re doing,” Cinder said. “You’re about to stop my train. And I put so much effort into getting it ready.”

“How do you-?” Sunset stopped, looking up. There were cameras mounted in the corners of the compartment’s ceiling. “Oh. Right. Did you call to beg me not to interfere with your plans?” Strange, how much easier it was to banter with Cinder about stopping her plans than it was to actually stop Cinder’s plans.

Cinder chuckled. “I don’t beg, Sunset, not anymore. And you do realise that the train is only the more minor element of my plan. Stopping the train does not stop my plan. For that matter, running the train does not guarantee my plan either.”

“So there is a mine,” Sunset said. “You’ve used all the stolen dust to mine the end of the tunnel, and you’re going to blast a way into Vale. We weren’t sure.”

“Really?” Cinder asked. “What else did you think that I might have in mind?”

“We thought that you might be planning to ram the train through the barrier,” Sunset explained.

“That would be rather hazardous for anybody on the train, don’t you think?”

“Do you care?” Sunset asked. “After all, you’re not on the train.”

“I care about you,” Cinder replied. “Do you think that I want you to slam into the wall in front of you at high speed?”

“You didn’t know that-”

“Sunset,” Cinder cut her off, in a tone that suggested Sunset was being very dense and that she, Cinder, was going to explain to her how the world worked. “I invited you here to Mountain Glenn. I allowed you to come down into the undercity when I could have buried you beneath waves of grimm up on the surface. I delayed you just long enough that the White Fang could finish getting the train ready to move… and then I allowed you to proceed onwards so that you would reach the train in time to board it. Everything has proceeded as I have foreseen.”

“Apart from the way that your cover was blown, you got chased out of Beacon, and we found your virus on the CCT, so whatever you were planning to do with that isn’t happening anymore,” Sunset pointed out. “You didn’t foresee that with your oracular wisdom, did you?”

Cinder sniffed. “Nevertheless,” she said, gliding over what Sunset considered to be some excellent points on her part, “the fact remains that I wanted you on this train, and here you are. And I have no desire to bring you all this way merely to kill you on impact.”

“That and the White Fang might have had some misgivings about getting on a train that was going to ram a wall with them inside,” Sunset muttered.

Cinder chuckled. “There is that too. Telling them that we were going to blow a breach in the defences which would then be exploited via the train made them feel much safer.”

“I take it that you didn’t tell them about the grimm?” Sunset asked. “It seems to me that knowing that a horde of grimm was going to follow them up through the breach might also have caused a few misgivings.” It’s given me enough.

Once more, Cinder laughed. “Adam believed that the White Fang were going to emerge from out of the tunnel and overwhelm the defences of Vale with the advantage of surprise, laying waste to the city and lighting a beacon of resistance against the corrupt order of the world.”

“He did know that there’s an Atlesian fleet in the skies over Vale, right?” Sunset asked. “You know that, right?” She paused. “The grimm… not attacks, the… that’s the thing, they didn’t attack, not in Vale, not in Mistral, the grimm who were menacing the towns and villages in Anima when we were there on vacation, that was you, wasn’t it? And the grimm threatening the outlying settlements in Vale, that was also your doing; you wanted to get the huntsmen out of Vale and scattered across the kingdom.”

“Very good, Sunset; you’re finally starting to put it together,” Cinder said. “Yes, I arranged for the attacks in Anima because I wanted to weaken the city's defences. I knew that Pyrrha would be coming home for spring break, and I wanted to see her in action for myself.”

“And yet, you still thought that you could take her in a fight,” Sunset observed.

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Cinder declared airily. “And, as you have also guessed, it was also my idea to menace the settlements in Vale; not destroy them, although the grimm could have fallen upon these poor, out of the way places before any help could reach them, and doesn’t that tell you something about the callousness of Professor Ozpin and the Council-?”

“Get to the point, Cinder,” Sunset said tersely.

“The point is, as you’ve already worked out, that I wanted the huntsmen out of the way,” Cinder said.

“It must have been quite annoying when the Atlesians showed up to take their place,” Sunset observed.

“To an extent,” Cinder admitted. “Although the idea of defeating the great General Ironwood and his vaunted army does have… a certain appeal.”

“You think you can win?” Sunset asked incredulously. “You can blow a hole in the defences, but the moment the White Fang or the grimm come up through that tunnel, they’re going to be under fire. We got Twilight a message, everyone is going to know that you’re coming.”

“Has this time in Mountain Glenn not taught you how easily a city may fall?” Cinder asked. “Has the sight of this dead city not shown to you that death and destruction will always triumph, that against the ferocity of the grimm, no wall or army can stand forever, or even for long? Have you not beheld, with your own eyes, the nemesis that will always descend upon the hubris of men?”

“Vale hasn’t fallen yet,” Sunset countered. “Even Mountain Glenn didn’t fall in a day, and Vale and Atlas will fight to protect Vale itself much harder than they fought for Mountain Glenn.” She paused. “The fall of Mountain Glenn was followed by Ozpin’s Stand, where the horde of grimm was turned back and shattered because Vale will not be allowed to fall.”

“If you believe that,” Cinder said, “then there’s no reason not to detonate the mine, is there?”

Sunset blinked. “What? 'Det-'…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes were drawn once more to the trigger sitting on top of the control panel. “That is the detonator for the mine?!”

“You sound so surprised.”

“I am surprised; it’s the detonator for the mine – the thing that your plan actually depends on, even more than this train; the thing which, if it doesn’t go off, then everything you’ve done has been for nothing – and you just left it here.”

“I have faith in you, Sunset,” Cinder said.

Sunset’s ears flattened down on top of her head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s quite simple, really,” Cinder explained. “I wanted you to come here. I wanted you to get on this train. I knew that you would make it to the front of the train where I have left – for you – the only detonator. You’re going to deliver me my victory, Sunset; thank you, I’m so touched.”

Sunset scowled. “What makes you think-?”

“Because I know you,” Cinder said. “I know you, Sunset Shimmer, I know you as I know myself. Ever since the moment we met, I…” She hesitated, but when she spoke again, her voice was clearer and stronger than before. “You have a choice to make, Sunset. Before you sits the only trigger to the mine at the end of this tunnel. You can let it sit there, harmless and inert; you can destroy it; you can throw it off the train, and perhaps a beowolf will eat it. You can do as you like and my mine, all of my dust that Torchwick and the White Fang so patiently gathered for me, will sit uselessly at the end of that tunnel, and everything that I have done will be for nothing. Vale will be safe. You’ll have done your duty like a true huntress! And you will die down here. And Pyrrha will die, and Ruby will die, and Jaune and Blake and Rainbow Dash, you will all perish down here in the dark, with no one to comfort you and no one to see and no one to ever find your body. Whether you stop the train or not, eventually, you will run out of rail and be left with nowhere to go, and the grimm will find you.”

Sunset’s tail twitched. “The emergency escape-”

Cinder laughed. “Sunset, please. I had the emergency escape hatches blocked. It turned out I had some dust left over that I didn’t strictly need for the main mine.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “You… you’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Sunset,” Cinder said, with a terrible earnestness in her voice. “Not now, not when you know the truth about me, about who I am, where I came from, who I serve. I’m not lying to you-”

“No, you’re just trapping me and my friends in a tunnel with a horde of grimm, thanks a lot!” Sunset snapped.

Cinder’s voice remained calm. “I’ve left you a way out,” she reminded Sunset. “All you have to do is pick up that trigger, detonate the mine, and the way will be open to you.”

Sunset’s chest pushed against her cuirass; she wanted to breathe deeper than she could. “And the way… and the way into Vale will be open to the grimm.”

“If you’re right about the prowess of the Atlesian forces, then that won’t matter,” Cinder said.

“According to you, it will,” Sunset pointed out.

“I could be wrong,” Cinder allowed. “It has, after all, happened before. Perhaps I’m wrong now. Perhaps the gallant students of Beacon and all the flowers of the north and their technological marvels – and we mustn’t forget all the king’s horses and all the king’s men of the Valish Defence Forces – can put a stopper in this particular breach before the tide comes in. Or not. The question is… does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

“Does it?” Cinder asked. “I’m sure that it matters to somebody, but does it matter to Sunset Shimmer? Does it matter to you if Vale falls or no, so long as Pyrrha and Ruby and the rest survive? Does it matter to you if people that you don’t know, that you wouldn’t know if you passed them in the street, die so long as your dear friends, the people you live with every day, the people who share your life, survive?

“You have to choose, Sunset. I’m giving you this choice; it is my gift to you and you alone. You can die down here, like every preening, self-righteous huntsman in history, or you can prove to me that I am not mistaken in you. Prove yourself a survivor, prove yourself worthy of life, prove yourself worthy of my interest. Prove that you belong with me, not them. And in so proving, save them all. Choose, Sunset, and in the choosing, define yourself.”

Define herself. Yes. Yes, it would. Sunset could feel the truth of Cinder’s words, feel the weight behind them settling upon her shoulders. She could feel… she could feel destiny hovering above her.

Ponies had… ponies had a woolly conception of destiny in many ways. They used the word imprecisely, using it to refer to a number of different things, things for which other words might have suited better. Sunset was wont to throw around ‘destiny’ in place of ‘fate,’ out of a mixture of familiarity and simple aesthetic considerations: her inescapable doom, the glory that was laid out for her, that which was promised and which would be hers… but only if she worked for it. Only if she strove for it. In that regard, although she – and she suspected that Cinder was the same way – hugged the notion of a destiny like a comfort blanket, holding to it in the dark times when glory and renown seemed so very far away – she could not escape from the more common usage of ponykind.

Every pony had a destiny, and usually one bound up in their cutie marks. It was the only one you had, it was set out for you when you were born by numinous and inescapable workings… but you had to choose it. It wouldn’t fall on you from a great height, it wouldn’t reveal itself to you in a moment of searing clarity imposed from without, you had to come to the realisation of your own will, of your own volition. Nevertheless, it was the only destiny that you would ever get, and although you could tarry on the road to get there, although you could waste as much time as you liked, although you could take as long as you pleased to sniff the flowers along the way, it would still be waiting for you. No other would take its place.

Like Pyrrha said, it was the final goal you worked towards.

If she did not take up the trigger, if she let the barrier stay up, if she protected Vale, then that would be her final goal, the destiny towards which she had been working ever since she arrived in Remnant.

It would be her final goal because she would get no other. The grimm would devour her down here, and all her friends besides.

And if she did otherwise? If she did as Cinder wished, if she blew the mine, if she exposed Vale to the horrors of a grimm attack… then, too, she would have chosen. She would be defined. She would have made her mark, whatever befell.

Destiny drove her on. She could feel its wings beating, feel the storm around her. But what was destiny driving her on to?

That… that was her choice.

And hers alone.

Cinder paced up and down, casting her eyes down to the detonator – identical twin to the one in the railway car – in her hand.

When she had told Sunset she wasn’t going to lie to her… that was not quite true. She had been mostly honest with Sunset: there really were no other ways out of the tunnel; it really was a question of die down here in the dark or blow the mine and live. The only area where she had been less than completely truthful was in the matter of Sunset having sole discretion over whether or not Cinder’s plans succeeded.

She was not willing to go quite so far. While Cinder hoped, fervently, that Sunset would choose life and show Cinder that she was who Cinder thought she was, Cinder was not prepared to hazard all her plans, so patiently laid down and so quickly and – if she said so herself – cleverly adapted to changed circumstance upon the risk that Sunset might turn out to be nobler than Cinder thought, that the influence of those like Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune Arc might prove stronger than Sunset’s own inclinations – or that Cinder had misjudged Sunset completely.

She wanted to know the answer. She wanted to find out who Sunset was, she wanted to be proved right in her surmises, but there was something much bigger going on here. There were plans of a scale far greater than Sunset Shimmer or Team SAPR or any of them.

Plans greater than Cinder herself. She was not the first to stand at Salem’s right hand; she was determined to be the last. To that end, she would bring down Vale and topple the towers of Haven, Atlas, and Shade in turn and lay the relics at Salem’s feet, she would assume all the four powers of this world, she would gain all that she had sought and do all that she had promised, and she would not let Sunset Shimmer stand in her way.

If Sunset proved too noble. If Sunset’s worry about what her friends would think of her proved stronger than her desire to live, if she did not behave as Cinder thought she would and hoped she would… then Cinder would detonate the mine anyway and open the way into Vale for her grimm horde.

She hoped, fervently hoped, it would not come to that.

Come on, Sunset. Don’t make me use this. Pick up the trigger. Blow up the mine. Prove yourself.

Prove me right.

Sunset stood in the centre of the cabin and stared at the trigger in front of her.

Her hands trembled, but she made no move to take up the trigger, still less to use it.

She just stood and stared at it as though it were the bomb, not the trigger, and it would explode if she took her eyes off it.

Sunset’s body was still, save for the trembling, but her mind whirled within her head.

If she… if she did this, if she picked up that trigger, if she pushed the red button, then she threw the dice. She threw the dice with all of Vale at stake. Perhaps it would be alright, perhaps General Ironwood’s ships would blaze fire enough to burn away the grimm, perhaps Professor Ozpin would stir from his high tower and show just why he was so admired throughout Remnant, perhaps the soldiers of Vale would show the spirit of their ancestors in the Great War and triumph over the nightmares. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps the iron might of Atlas and the courage of the students would prevail over the ferocity of the grimm. Perhaps virtue against fury would advance the fight and in the combat then would put to flight, as the Mistralian piece of doggerel went, proving the old valour was not dead nor in the hearts of men extinguished.

Perhaps, perhaps.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the grimm would overrun Vale, just as they had Mountain Glenn, and in twenty years, the bones would line the streets, their empty sockets staring out and their tongueless mouths crying out.

“I was a carpenter.”

“I was a housewife.”

“I was a butcher.”

“I was a waitress.”

“I was a clown.”

“We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.”

Sunset shuddered. The dead of Mountain Glenn become the dead of Vale indeed. But Vale is not yet fallen. Vale may not fall.

If she picked up the trigger, then she threw a dice, but if she let it lie…

If she let the trigger lie, if she did not blow up the mine, then…

Then it would be the bones of her dear friends that would lie in this tunnel until they turned to dust, if indeed the grimm left bones.

If they left anything at all.

“Pyrrha has such fire in her. Such strength. I felt it from the moment she was born. I felt… drained. I knew then that I would give my husband no other children, for all the strength that was in me had passed into Pyrrha. I gave strength to Mistral… and kept none for myself. And yet… she is all I have, Miss Shimmer, and yet, she has ventured forth upon the path of a huntress, where the road ahead is uncertain.”

“They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return by mountain or by sea.”

The words of Lady Nikos echoed in her mind. Pyrrha was the last of her line, she carried the history of her people within her veins, in her was born again the antique valour of a kingdom, she was their Eventstar… and that star would be snuffed out, swallowed by a beowolf unless Sunset detonated this mine.

She is all that remains to her mother.

Lady Nikos gave me Soteria that I might protect her.

Sunset had promised Pyrrha that if she fell in battle, then she would carry her circlet home to her mother, but nobody would ever carry Pyrrha’s circlet anywhere if Pyrrha died down here in this tunnel, devoured by the grimm.

Once again, the vision that Salem had shown her flashed before Sunset’s mind, all of the visions: Pyrrha’s death, Ruby’s death, Jaune’s death, Blake’s death. And all their deaths would be so much worse, down here in the dark, down here with no one to see them die and no one to recover aught of them for mourning or for burial.

No one would carry Pyrrha’s circlet home to Mistral; perhaps there would not even be a circlet left, even if there were somebody to carry it. The shattered fragments of Jaune’s familial sword would lie in the darkness for all eternity, and the family that he had left behind would wonder forever what had become of their vanished son. Perhaps they would wait and wait, until the disappearance of Jaune Arc was told as a sorrowful tale long past or a ghost story to scare the children: the boy who stole and ran away from home and was never seen again, so eat your sprouts and go to bed.

And Ruby… Ruby was her mother’s only child. Ruby too might be the last of her line, the last of a line of silver-eyed warriors, blessed with the magic to defend the world against the monsters, a magic that she had not yet even unlocked, still yet begun to master. If she died, if she perished down here in this tunnel, then all that promise, all that potential, would be lost.

The same could be said of Blake and Rainbow Dash: promise, potential… love. If Sunset did not blow up this mine, if Sunset condemned them all to death in the darkness, if the grimm devoured them here, then it might comfort Lady Nikos, General Ironwood, Yang and Ruby’s father away on Patch, it might give them all some consolation to know that their girls died bravely, doing their duty to the end; it might give them comfort to know that those they loved gave their lives like true huntresses, following in the footsteps of Summer Rose.

Perhaps General Ironwood would stick Rainbow’s picture up on These Are My Jewels along with all the other poor souls who gave their lives for Atlas; perhaps Lady Nikos would hold her head up high and tell passersby that a huntress would understand that there wasn’t really a choice to make and a huntress is what she always wanted to be.

Perhaps Yang would shrug her shoulders and get on with things because that was life, after all, and wasn’t that a risk they’d all signed up for?

Or perhaps Lady Nikos would sit alone in her study, surrounded by testaments to the skill of a daughter slain and sink into her grief and waste away amidst the crumbling of a house whose future had been stolen away.

Perhaps Yang would weep oceans of tears beyond counting and leap down in the empty grave in place of Ruby.

Perhaps Twilight’s heart would shatter, and all the air would fly from Pinkie’s hair like joy flying from her soul, and she would wait forever in Sugarcube Corner for Rainbow Dash to come in and place her usual order, and think of a joke that would make Rainbow Dash laugh… only to remember that Rainbow Dash would never walk through that door again.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

They were daughters, and they were sisters. Jaune was a son and a brother both. They were loving and beloved, beloved by those close to them and by those who knew them only by their famous names.

If they died… if they died, then the world should be lost, shattered for so many.

If Sunset picked up the trigger, then she rolled the dice for Vale, but if she did not… if she did not, then she destroyed whole worlds beyond doubt.

All of these thoughts crowded into Sunset’s mind, and yet… and yet… and yet, none of them mattered.

They could have been one and all of the basest stock imaginable, they could have been detested and despised by everyone outside the contents of their own teams and yet… and yet, they would still have been beloved by Sunset, her teammates, her friends, hers and dear to her and hers to lead and hers to protect.

What was the kingdom of Vale when set against that bond? What were the people of Vale, shadowy and indistinct within her mind, mere numbers, when set against their faces emblazoned in her thoughts and in her heart?

She had promised Lady Nikos that she would fight by Pyrrha’s side and protect her, inasmuch as so great a warrior required protection. She had sworn, down in the dark in the face of Salem’s visions, that she would protect them not only from their enemies but from their nobler natures, their hearts so heroic that they would lead them all to early graves.

She had sworn to do whatever it took to bring everyone home safe.

Professor Ozpin had told her she would have to sacrifice one, or she would lose all. She had refused to acknowledge it then, and though she had spoken with more arrogance than wisdom, still she refused. She would not sacrifice one for all, nor all for kingdom.

She did not love the kingdom of Vale. She did not hate it, she had no personal cause to wish it ill, she was not without some little feeling for a few of those who lived within it but she did not love it. She loved them, behind her on this train, them she loved without condition.

Them she loved more than the world itself.

Whatever it takes.

Cinder watched Sunset, still and silent, her expression giving no sign of what she intended.

She frowned. Had she misjudged? Had she been wrong? Had Sunset been someone fundamentally different all this time?

Her thumb began to move towards the trigger.

Perhaps I love not wisely but too well, but so be it! Though it be madness, let love guide my hand!

Sunset reached out, her hand briefly glowing green as telekinesis summoned the trigger into her palm.

Her fingers closed around the wand.

She pressed down upon the trigger and rolled the dice for Vale.

Whatever it takes.

The explosion shook the tunnel, the sound of it echoing up through the dark hole, momentarily drowning out even the roaring of the grimm behind them. Fire like a yellow flower blossomed briefly in the monitors in front of her, displaying what could be seen in front of the train, and then winked out again.

Apart from that, nothing changed. It might have seemed as though nothing had happened.

And yet, something had happened. Destiny had happened. Sunset… Sunset had defined herself.

Whatever it takes.

Celestia forgive me.

“Congratulations, Sunset,” Cinder said. “You’ve proved yourself a survivor, just like I knew you would.”

Sunset bowed her head. “I did what I had to do.”

“You did,” Cindeer agreed. “But somehow, I wouldn’t expect Ruby to agree with you.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “She can hate me if she wants; she’ll be alive.”

“But why should you bear hatred?” Cinder asked. “Why should you endure censure, judgement, hatred from the likes of Ruby Rose? You did the right thing!”

“I don’t-”

“Be honest, Sunset; if you didn’t feel the same way, you wouldn’t have done it,” Cinder said. “You feel it too, don’t you? Why should you give your life for a host of rude mechanicals and unlearned labouringmen, why should your life be held cheaper than those of the multitudes as numerous as ants? You don’t belong here, Sunset, not with these huntsmen so self-righteous, not with these nagging scolds who hold that what you are is wrong, who demand that you debase yourself and mutilate your noble spirit to fit yourself into their boxes. You don’t belong with them, Sunset; they don’t deserve you. You belong with me, here, where I won’t-”

BANG!

The gunshot startled Sunset so much that she jumped as the speaker set in the ceiling exploded in a shower of sparks and metal. Sunset turned to see Rainbow Dash, a thunderous look upon her face, stride into the cabin, her Wings of Harmony folding up behind her as she aimed one of her submachine guns at each speaker and camera in turn and, each with a single precision shot, destroyed them all. The bangs seemed as loud as the explosion of the mine in this enclosed space until Cinder’s every eye and tongue in this place was blinded and plucked out.

Only then, as Rainbow holstered her weapon, did she look at Sunset.

Sunset swallowed. “Rainbow Dash, I…” Her words fell away. She said nothing further. What could she say? What could she offer to defend herself? She cared more for those on the train than those without. All else was… rationalisation, justification, excuse. All else was… scarcely worth saying.

Silently, Rainbow Dash advanced upon her, bore down upon her, cast a shadow over her.

Sunset felt her whole body tremble.

Rainbow said not a word as she reached out and plucked the trigger from Sunset’s unresisting hand.

And Rainbow was still as silent as the grave as she turned away, strode almost to the door, and tossed the trigger out of it and into the darkness of the tunnel.

Sunset blinked in amazement. “Rainbow Dash?” she murmured.

"If time unwound, and you were put in the same position again, you'd do that again, wouldn’t you?” Rainbow asked, in a voice surprisingly soft and free of condemnation.

“And yet, I’m not sure I have it in me to do anything else,” Sunset replied.

Rainbow Dash paused for a moment. A smile that seemed almost improper at this time and in this place, fleeted across her face. “Because in this world that would rather ignore us, we’re so blessed as to find people that can see us.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “It sounded better when I said it,” she muttered. “But… yes. You can judge me if you want-”

“No,” Rainbow cut her off. “I won’t.”

Sunset stared at her amazedly. “You won’t?”

“No,” Rainbow repeated. “Because… because it wasn’t my choice to make. And although… although I hope I wouldn’t have done what you just did… I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t.”

Sunset didn’t know what to say; she had no idea how to respond. Nothing that she could say seemed adequate, let alone appropriate. So instead, she asked the only question that mattered now. “Can Atlas stop them?”

“Yes,” Rainbow replied. “Absolutely.”

Sunset had no idea if Rainbow was right, or if she even believed it herself. But Sunset hoped, she very much hoped, that Rainbow was right.

Because she had thrown the dice, and she would do it again.

Whatever it takes.

Celestia, forgive me.

Author's Note

I hope that nobody is too disappointed that I didn’t show the fight through the train, but after four chapters of fights and with the Breach coming up I didn’t really want to nor feel the need to write another fight with a bunch of nameless White Fang goons and paladins.

On the other hand, I really wanted to write this chapter, and in particular the Sunset and Cinder bit, it’s something I’ve been looking forward to for a while. I’ll admit that it started out as a way to have my cake (get to write a version of the Breach, since as a scenario it’s too cool to miss out) while not having the heroes seem like they failed to stop the train due to ineptitude.

I like it even more now, though, for what it says about Sunset’s morality. It’s been a while since we saw Sunset do anything really self-centred like this, but I don’t think it’s inconsistent (I really hope not, since this attitude will inform a lot of her decision-making during the Fall Maiden plot later on) since she’s always put her team/friends first. I hope that this also contextualises some of Sunset’s hostility towards Ozpin a little more: it’s not that he’s evil (although I’ll admit that I was onboard the Evil!Ozpin train until volume 6) it’s that he and Sunset just can’t agree on what good looks like right now and Sunset, picking up on Ozpin’s utilitarian big-picture morality, finds it off-putting because it threatens her deontological selfishness.

Rewrite Notes: What is there to say about this chapter? The most iconic, in some ways, certainly the most controversial chapter in the fic. What is there to say about it?

The big change here is that the nature of Sunset's dilemma changes; using a mine instead of will she or won't she stop the train avoids the question of why everybody doesn't die in the crash, and having a trigger makes it harder for anyone to work out what she did.

Also, there's some ambiguity about whether Sunset or Cinder actually hit the trigger first.

The biggest change, though, is Rainbow being 100% on board with Sunset on this one, to the extent of covering up her action.

Corridors of Power (New)

Corridors of Power

General James Ironwood sat at his desk in his office aboard the Valiant, reading through a report on some field exercises carried out in Atlas: the Sixth Battalion going up against the Fifth and Eighth. Even when he was in Vale, he was still the commander of the entire Atlesian military, and all the business of that vast, grand combined arms institution found its way eventually to his desk.

He was about to add his comments to the report – to the effect that the Sixth had done a lot better than they deserved and the Fifth and Eighth had done much worse than they should have and a lot of that was down to the leadership of the opposing forces – when he was distracted by a ping from the Valiant's CIC; he pressed a button on the left-hand corner of his desk. "Ironwood."

"General, this is the bridge," the voice of Winter Schnee entered the ready room. "We're being hailed, sir; it’s Twilight Sparkle."

Ironwood sat up a little straighter at his desk; he was at once attentive and a little concerned, if only because of the possibility that RSPT and SAPR had gotten into trouble in Mountain Glenn. "Comms to my location, Schnee."

"Yes sir."

A moment later, and it was Twilight's voice that was floating into his office. "General? General Ironwood, can you hear me?"

Ironwood frowned. Twilight sounded downright alarmed about something. He kept his own voice calm in consequence. "I'm here, Twilight; you're coming in loud and clear."

"Oh, thank goodness," Twilight sighed. "It's… it's good to hear your voice, sir."

"And better to hear yours," Ironwood said. "What's going on? Are you all right?"

“I’m fine, sir,” Twilight said quickly. “And so is Team Tsunami. Unfortunately, from what I understand, Penny hasn’t been so lucky.”

'Penny?” Ironwood repeated. “What happened?”

“Why don’t I patch you through to The B- I mean, to Team Rosepetal’s airship, sir,” Twilight said. “Professor Goodwitch is quite anxious to talk to you.”

That’s a first, the stray thought, disconnected from what was going on, flitted through Ironwood’s mind without ever approaching his mouth. “Very well, Twilight, put her through.”

“Just a moment, sir,” Twilight said.

Ironwood waited, and as he waited, his cybernetic hand, concealed beneath a white glove, clenched into a fist upon his desk. Penny. Penny was… what? Dead? Damaged? As wide-eyed as any ingénue, and he had thrown her into the front lines of this war.

I should have kept her in reserve.

She would have hated that.

She wasn’t ready for this.

She was created for this.

That doesn’t mean she was ready.

"James, this is Glynda," Glynda said, her voice suddenly entering his office over the channel. "Can you get Professor Ozpin on the line? He needs to hear this information as much as you."

"Understood," Ironwood said. Now it was the turn of his organic hand to curl into a fist on his knee. Whatever was going on, whatever they had to say, whatever had happened down in Mountain Glenn, it was obviously not good news they had to share, a fact which did nothing to make him less anxious for the fate of Rainbow Dash, not to mention Ciel. And Penny, whatever had befallen her. He pressed the button to hail the CIC again. "Bridge, this is General Ironwood; I need Professor Ozpin patched in immediately."

"Affirmative, sir."

There was a moment’s delay before the projector on Ironwood’s desk automatically turned on, projecting the face of Professor Ozpin on the holographic screen, looking ever so slightly down upon the seated Ironwood.

The old man smiled genially. “James. Always a pleasure to see you.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Professor,” Glynda said.

Ironwood would give Ozpin this: he had one hell of a poker face. He didn’t react at all to the sound of Glynda’s voice. “Glynda. Likewise. Am I to take it that your mission in Mountain Glenn was concluded and you are on your way back?”

“You’re half right, Professor,” Glynda said, sounding a little weary. “We are on our way back, but the mission is not over yet. And it may end in a White Fang attack on Vale larger than anything we’ve seen before.”

Professor Ozpin nodded, looking for all the world as though this was not news to him at all. He really would be terrible to play cards against. It was a good thing that Ironwood wasn’t a gambling man.

“Perhaps you’d better explain a little further,” Ozpin said.

“We’ve recovered Fluttershy, sir, unharmed,” Twilight put in. “And Applejack has been released as well, although she’s still with Rainbow Dash-”

“It is good that you found your friends unharmed,” Ozpin said. “But right now, I must confess that it is your warning that concerns me more. Please go on.”

“The White Fang,” Twilight said. “There is a base in Mountain Glenn, and it must be a pretty big base as well, just like we thought there might be, only we didn’t expect that there’d be a train, and I guess we should have expected that too, because the White Fang have stolen trains in the past, and why wouldn’t they hang onto them, except what would a terrorist group need with a train-”

“Twilight,” Ironwood said firmly. “Calm down. Focus.”

He could hear Twilight’s breathing on the other side of the line. “Right. Sorry. Focus. Focus.”

“Perhaps you’d better explain, Glynda?” Ozpin suggested.

“From what Rainbow Dash was able to tell us, the White Fang plan to use the old Mountain Glenn subway tunnel,” Glynda said. “They have a train prepared, and they mean to either use the train to smash through the barrier used to seal the tunnel or blow the barrier up with the stolen dust and use the train to carry their forces – including, it seems, the weapons they stole from your forces, James – into the heart of Vale.”

“Arrogant bastards,” Ironwood muttered. It was an audacious plan, he’d give them that, but to do this while his fleet was in the air above? Did they think that his forces were here just for show? It was one thing to slip robberies past them, but quite another to think that they could force an action like this and win against his troops, with all their airships in support. It was an arrogance that verged on impertinent.

Ozpin closed his eyes. He seemed to age ten or even twenty years in that single moment. “The Mountain Glenn subway. Of course. I should have known. Why didn’t I see?” He opened his eyes again. “Glynda, you said that Miss Dash reported this?”

“Yes, Professor,” Glynda said. “After Miss Polendina was… injured; I escorted her and Miss Soleil back to the airship. I was ready to return to the students, but I was informed that it was too late.”

“Soleil,” Ironwood said. “Is she-?”

“I am fine, sir,” Ciel cut in. “My aura was not broken and is recovering presently. Although it was my duty to assist Penny back to the airship, I will be fit to return to action once she is safely ensconced aboard ship.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Soleil,” Ironwood said. “What’s Penny’s condition?”

“I fear I am scarcely qualified to say, sir, but she can no longer speak, and her motor functions are impaired.”

“I’ll know more when I can examine her, sir, but it sounds like she might need to head home for repairs,” Twilight said.

“Understood,” Ironwood growled. “Twilight, where’s Dash? Where’s the rest of the expedition?”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “Trying to derail the train and block the tunnel so that the White Fang can’t get through to Vale, sir. But I don’t know if they’ll do it, and even if they do… they’ll be stuck down there with the White Fang, won’t they? They talked about getting out through the emergency hatches, but then there are the grimm to think about-”

“Rainbow Dash did the right thing,” Ironwood said. It was a noble thing to die for Atlas, and sometimes, it was an unfortunate necessity to do that noble thing, as much as it grieved those left behind. “Lulamoon, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sir,” Trixie said in a voice devoid of her usual rolling r’s.

“Return to the Valiant at best speed; I’ll have further orders for your team once you get here. Twilight, when you arrive, I want you to disembark and wait for Penny. Glynda, I need you to head for my ship too, so we can get Penny onboard. I can give you another airship to head back to Beacon from there. Soleil, you’ll get your orders aboard ship as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said, her voice subdued.

“Understood, sir,” Ciel said.

“Roger that, sir,” said Trixie.

“Thank you, James,” added Glynda.

“General,” Twilight said. “If… if they do stop the train, then-”

“Then we’ll get them out,” Ironwood said. “You have my word on that: no one left behind.”

“Thank you, sir, that means a lot to hear you say it,” Twilight said. “But… if they don’t stop it-”

“Then we’ll take care of it,” Ironwood assured her. “Come home, Twilight, and leave the rest to us.”

“Glynda, we will speak more on your return,” Ozpin said. “As I’m sure you understand, I have preparations to make.”

“Of course, Professor. I hope to see you soon.”

“Likewise.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

“Goodbye, Twilight,” Ironwood said. “Ironwood out.” He severed the connection, leaving only Ozpin on the line, his head bowed and his eyes closed.

“I have grown old, James,” Ozpin admitted. “When I was a younger man, I would have seen this coming.”

“We don’t have time for self-doubt, Oz,” Ironwood said. “Not until we’ve settled this.”

“I sent Summer’s only child into desperate peril from which she may not return,” Ozpin said. “I risked my Fall candidate, and for what? For something I should have seen the moment I heard the name 'Mountain Glenn.' Is it just that this body is old, or are all my years catching up to me?”

“Oz!” Ironwood barked. “We don’t have time for this. And besides, don’t count our teams out just yet. Give them the credit they deserve.”

Ozpin was silent for a moment, before a slight smile creased his aged face. “Yes. Yes, of course, you are right, James; we are talking about a collection of exceptionally talented students. And you are even more right that I have no time to doubt myself. I must inform Councillor Aris at once. No doubt, she will petition your assistance as soon as she learns what is happening.”

“Just in case she doesn’t, I’d like to be included in that call myself,” Ironwood said. He had not forgotten the way that Councillor Aris had tied his hands over the Emerald Forest incident, and certainly, he had not forgiven her for it. This time, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, even if he had to disobey her instructions. He’d go to his own Council if he had to; he should probably inform them about this anyway. An attack on Vale was something they’d want to hear about from him, not from the news.

“Of course,” Ozpin said. “That will be… efficient.” He looked Ironwood in the eye. “If you want to say ‘I told you so,’ James, just say it,” he said. “Smugness doesn’t become a man in your position.”

“No,” Ironwood said, “it doesn’t.” However, his desire to be the bigger man was not quite able to drive all uncharitable thoughts out of his head.

I warned you this would happen. I told you she was coming for us. And they’re coming, all right; they’re coming right into the heart of Vale.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his adversaries – Cinder Fall, or perhaps even Salem herself – knew something that he didn’t. It seemed such a quixotic venture, even with the element of surprise on their side, did they really think that a single attack would bring down the entire kingdom? Did they really esteem his troops so lightly that they thought that the White Fang could beat them in a conventional battle?

Did they have something up their sleeves that he didn’t know about yet? Something that Dash hadn’t seen?

Ironwood frowned. He had told Ozpin that they didn’t have the luxury of doubt, and he’d meant it. He couldn’t worry that he might be playing into the hands of the enemy, he couldn’t plan based on what ifs or maybes, he couldn’t look for the worst. He could only analyse the information in front of him and act upon it.

And the information before him said that Vale was in danger, and his soldiers were needed to defend it.

Rainbow Dash, if the gods give a damn, I hope they’re watching over you.

“I’m contacting the First Councillor now,” Ozpin said, glancing away from Ironwood and clearly looking at something on his desk. Ironwood caught a brief glimpse of Ozpin’s fingers moving, presumably typing something. There was a moment’s pause before another window opened up on Ironwood’s desk, presenting the bust of First Councillor Novo Aris.

Councillor Aris wrapped one of the locks of fuchsia hair that fell between her eyebrows around her finger. “Ozpin, I seem to recall when I took office you saying something to the effect that you and I wouldn’t be seeing very much of one another.”

“Madame Councillor-” Ozpin began.

“‘You might even forget that I exist’ were, I recall, your exact words,” Councillor Aris growled. “I can’t help but notice that that ceased to be true some time ago.”

“Madame Councillor,” Ozpin said firmly, “there will be time to apologise for the way in which I have burdened you with my presence this year, but now is not the time. We have reason to believe that Vale may soon come under serious attack by the White Fang.”

“'Serious attack'?” Councillor Aris repeated. She tugged at the lock of hair. “What does that mean? Do you have intelligence about another bomb threat?”

“I’m afraid it’s rather more serious than that,” Ozpin said gravely. “The White Fang have assembled an army, equipped with stolen dust and Atlesian military equipment, and we believe that they plan to use the Mountain Glenn tunnel to bypass Vale’s defences and attack into the heart of the city.”

Councillor Aris stared at them both, her wide magenta eyes flickering, sometimes looking at Ironwood, sometimes – he guessed – looking at Ozpin. “You believe?” she said weakly.

“We sent a reconnaissance team to investigate reports of White Fang activity at Mountain Glenn,” Ironwood said. “They’ve just reported back.”

“Reports?” Councillor Aris repeated. “You had reports? Reports which you didn’t share with me.”

“We’re sharing them now,” Ironwood pointed out.

“Now that Vale is about to fall under attack!” Councillor Aris yelled, slamming the flat of her hand down onto her desk. “You should have informed me the moment you received this intelligence and told me what you intended to do about it, not kept me in the dark until the last possible moment!”

“Madame Councillor,” Ozpin said, “we hardly have time-”

“Do not tell me that we do not have time!” Councillor Aris snarled. “You…” She took a deep breath and mastered herself with a visible effort. “Do not imagine that I will allow this to stand, Professor Ozpin; you serve at the pleasure of the Council-”

“I will be happy to account for my conduct before the Council,” Ozpin said, not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the idea. “When the crisis is over.”

Councillor Aris closed her eyes. “God,” she whispered. “Let me get General Seaspray on the line.”

Her fingers flew, and soon, another window appeared floating above Ironwood’s desk, this one bearing the face of General Seaspray, commander of the Valish Defence Forces.

“General Ironwood,” he said courteously. “Professor Ozpin. Madame Councillor.” He hesitated a moment. “Is something amiss?”

“You could say that,” Councillor Aris growled. “One of you repeat what you just told me.”

“A force of White Fang, exact strength unknown but substantial, and unfortunately armed in part with stolen Atlesian military equipment including prototypes of our latest battlemech, are poised to carry out an assault into Vale itself,” Ironwood said. “Using the Mountain Glenn subway tunnels to pass under the Red Line. We have a team trying to stop them, but no guarantee that they will be successful.”

General Seaspray was very still. When he spoke, his voice was soft and quiet. “I see. Thank you for informing me, General Ironwood.” He paused. “Better late than never.”

“Can you beat them, General?” Councillor Aris asked.

“Of c-” Ironwood began.

“General Seaspray,” Councillor Aris interrupted. “Vale will be defended first and foremost by its own soldiers.”

General Seaspray looked somewhat uncomfortable. “We… we will, of course, obey any orders from the Council, Madame Councillor, but… with all due respect, I would prefer to defer to General Ironwood. His forces are better trained and rather better equipped.”

Councillor Aris stared out of the screen, but not at Ironwood; presumably, she was staring at General Seaspray, for whom Ironwood was not without sympathy. Certainly, he had more sympathy for his Valish counterpart than for the politician whom he served.

Councillor Aris said, “Are you telling me that our troops are unable to defend their own homes?”

“Most of my forces are trained to man the walls of the Red Line and fend off grimm from the security of that position,” General Seaspray replied. “I have a few more versatile units, but none with expertise in house to house fighting against an enemy that can shoot back. I fear that fighting in the midst of Vale itself might not stiffen their resolve so much as weaken morale. Not to mention that we don’t have any airships available to provide support, while General Ironwood has a great many.”

“None?” Councillor Aris demanded. “What about the Warrior? It was over the city just a few months ago when the grimm horde approached.”

“It developed engine troubles last week and had to go back to the yard in Alexandria for repairs,” General Seaspray explained. “Royal Sovereign is also in the yards for its triennial refit, Monarch is being rebuilt, and Defender was damaged in a collision with a civilian airship. The only warship presently at readiness is the Terror, and she’s eight hours south of here at best speed.”

Once again, Ironwood was not without sympathy for his beleaguered counterpart. It sounded as though his fleet had had terrible luck at the worst possible time to have it. But, with the greatest degree of sympathy, that was why it was wise to have more than five ships – and possibly not have two of them laid up for major work at the same time.

Councillor Aris looked down at her hands for a moment, stretching her fingers out across her desk. “I see,” she said softly. Her dignity hung off her like tattered shreds as she looked up and at Ironwood. “General Ironwood,” he said, “it seems that Vale looks to you and your… goodwill forces. I believe you were about to tell me that you could beat these people.”

“Without a doubt, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood said. “They might have our weapons, but they don’t have our resolve. Ozpin, where does the tunnel end? Where are they going to come up?”

Ozpin thought about it for a moment. “Lost Valley Square. When the tunnel was sealed, the subway station was demolished and paved over. It’s a plaza now.”

Appropriately named, given that Vale seems to have tried hard to forget all about Mountain Glenn, Ironwood thought. “Madame Councillor, I recommend that you declare a state of emergency and evacuate everyone in a… twelve block radius of that plaza and all districts sitting directly on top of the subway line. We’ll contain them within a tighter radius than that, but with bullets flying, it’s best to be on the safe side.”

“I’ll get the police on it,” Councillor Aris murmured, sounding defeated by the weaknesses of the Valish forces before the White Fang had even arrived.

“My students may be able to assist in that,” Ozpin said.

Councillor Aris nodded. “I’m sure that will be welcome,” she whispered.

“We should also bear in mind,” Ozpin continued, “that the evacuations, even the declarations of a state of emergency, will undoubtedly cause panic amongst the population, and that kind of panic may bring the grimm.”

“My troops may not be able to fight the White Fang in the streets, but they can hold the Red Line if the grimm come that way,” General Seaspray vowed.

“What about the people living beyond the Red Line?” Ironwood asked. “My units have been working to improve the Green Line, but if I’m going to fight a battle inside Vale, I may need to pull them inside. Do you have any troops that can push out to relieve my men on the outer defences?”

General Seaspray considered that. “I’ve got the King’s Own Patch Light Infantry and the Lifeguards; I’ll move them out to form a front line. If you need any additional infantry, General, I can let you have the Mount Aris Light Dragoons. They’re our airborne unit, and probably the best I’ve got.”

“I appreciate that, General; they’ll be welcome,” Ironwood said. He wouldn’t deploy them unless he had to, but it was a courteous gesture and deserved a courteous response.

“Then I’ll tell Colonel Sky Beak to report to you,” General Seaspray said. “He’s a good man; you can rely on him.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Ironwood said. “I can give you two cruisers to cover your men on the Green Line and a carrier with its air group.”

“Much obliged to you, General Ironwood,” General Seaspray said.

“And I… I will convene the Council in emergency session,” Councillor Aris said, still sounding dull and almost dead inside. “Are you all clear on what must be done?”

“I think so, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood replied. “Ma’am, everything is going to be all right. You can depend on us.”

“Can I?” Councillor Aris asked. “Can I depend on you, General Ironwood, Professor Ozpin? Can I depend on you?”

“You can depend upon my men,” Ironwood declared. “You don’t have to approve of my decisions, but don’t doubt my people. They’ll get it done, every time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Councillor, I need to start issuing orders.”

“As do I,” General Seaspray added. “Madame Councillor.”

“General Seaspray, General Ironwood… Professor,” Councillor Aris added, with extra venom upon Oz’s title.

The images of General Seaspray and Councillor Aris disappeared, leaving Ozpin and Ironwood alone again.

“I never imagined it would come to this,” Ozpin murmured.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Oz,” Ironwood told him. “We can do this.”

Ozpin almost smiled. “You sound so wonderfully reassuring when you say that, James. You must teach me how you do it.”

“I’d be glad too,” Ironwood replied. “But right now, I really do have to go.”

“Good luck, James,” Ozpin said, before his face disappeared as he too hung up the call.

“I don’t need luck,” Ironwood declared. “I’ve got my men.”

He strode out of his office, briskly – and a little brusquely – returning the salute of the guard outside, and made his way swiftly onto the bridge. The door slid open to admit him onto the Valiant’s CIC.

“General on deck!”

The call, accompanied by a shrill whistle from the Petty Officer standing just beside the door, brought everyone on the bridge out of their seats and standing to attention, all their eyes turned towards him.

“Easy, ladies and gentlemen,” Ironwood said, walking towards the port display readouts, where a map of Remnant displayed the locations of major Atlesian military units and bases, side-by-side with a map of the city of Vale and its immediate environs, as well as any grimm activity - no major concentrations yet - as well as a pair of lines, one green and one red, that marked the location of Vale’s lines of fortifications, the complete and the incomplete.

They still marked the best locations to stop any grimm attack on the perimeter dead, and Oz was right: the panic caused by an evacuation of the threatened city districts would attract grimm like a bear to honey.

First things first.

“Bring the ship to general quarters,” Ironwood said, without turning away from the maps. “Signal the fleet to do likewise. This is not a drill, people; the Kingdom of Vale is about to come under attack by the White Fang, and we must be ready when it does.”

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant des Voeux acknowledged. Nobody questioned his orders, nobody asked why he thought there was about to be a White Fang attack on Vale; they simply obeyed his orders and trusted that he knew something they didn’t. “Signalling the fleet now. General Quarters; all hands, the ship is now going to General Quarters: all personnel to your stations and prepare for enemy contact. Fore and up on the starboard side, down and aft on the port side. Load all weapons and prepare all airships for immediate take-off. Security teams stand by to repel boarders. Infantry stand-by for ground deployment. Prep all medical bays to receive casualties. The ship is going to General Quarters; this is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.”

The warning klaxon rang throughout the ship.

“Open a line to the Gallant,” Ironwood said.

“Aye aye, sir.” There was a moment’s pause. “Channel open.”

“Major Rouge, this is General Ironwood; do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, sir,” replied the voice of Major Horatia Rouge, CO aboard the Gallant.

“I want you to take your ship and the Resolution to Mountain Glenn immediately; there may be Atlesian and Valish huntsmen trapped in the main subway tunnel to Vale, or they may have escaped and signal you from the city; either way, you are to rescue and recover them with all despatch. Acknowledge.” He was taking a bit of a risk on this; a more cautious commander would have recalled the two ships he had sent out – half of his Fourth Battle Squadron, nearly a quarter of his fleet – to Vale at best speed to bolster his forces for when or if the grimm attack materialised. Certainly, if it had only been a case of possibly pounding on the White Fang as they tried to run, he wouldn’t have bothered. But he had given his word to Twilight, and even if he had not, it wasn’t in his nature to abandon his troops in a situation like this.

If Dash and the others did succeed in stopping the train, then he wasn’t about to leave them in a grimm-infested ruin to die.

“Acknowledged, General. Laying in a course now.”

“Godspeed, Gallant. Ironwood out.” Ironwood took pause for a moment, studying the map and visualising in his mind’s eye what it actually looked like in terms of streets, buildings, and the fields beyond. “Signal the Vigilant: she and Courageous are to take position on the Green Line and support Valish troops that will begin moving up to take position overhead shortly. The Nicholas Schnee is to deploy its combat airships to support that effort as well. All battalion Skyrays are to be despatched and all infantry units deployed on the Green Line are to be airlifted back to Vale immediately. I want the First Battalion to form a defensive perimeter…” Ironwood studied the map, looking for the best position to deploy his infantry; he didn’t want too many side-streets and back alleys to defend, but at the same time, he didn’t want to position his men right on top of the White Fang when they emerged; he wanted space to unleash his airpower before he sent the ground troops in, and that meant allowing the enemy freedom to reach the surface. “Four blocks out from Lost Valley Square. Lock it down; I don’t want anyone able to get out. The remaining rifle companies of the Fourth Battalion will hold in reserve and wait for my orders to deploy. Cruisers of the First Squadron are to achieve main battery firing angles over Lost Valley Square and hold position. I want all airships aboard the Colton prepped and ready to launch and all Skygraspers loaded with androids.”

“Understood, sir. Issuing your orders now.”

“Fitzjames, bring the Valiant into position to bring our main battery to bear in support of the First Squadron,” Ironwood ordered.

“Aye aye, sir,” confirmed Captain Fitzjames, commanding officer aboard the Valiant. “Laying in the course now.”

Winter stepped a little closer to Ironwood’s side. “This is to do with Rosepetal’s mission, isn’t it sir?”

“Affirmative,” Ironwood murmured.

Winter hesitated for a moment. “And, sir?”

“Penny has been damaged,” Ironwood said quietly. “Twilight and Soleil are on their way back. Dash is either still in the subway tunnel or else somewhere in the city ruins with Miss Belladonna and Team Sapphire.”

“I see,” Winter whispered. “Is there anything I can do, sir?”

Ironwood looked at her. “Take the Valiant’s Specialist squad, head down there, and present yourself to Major Hancock.”

“Immediately, sir.”

“And des Voeux, get the Atlas Council on the line,” Ironwood commanded. “They’re going to need to know about this too.”

Novo Aris had made… very little secret, in the scheme of things, of the fact that she had come from a privileged background. She was an Aris of Mount Aris, with all that implied – and it implied a fair amount when they had named the town after your family – but despite all the advantages that had offered her in terms of doors opened, opportunities offered, introductions to and recommendations from all the right people, that did not mean that she was a stranger to adversity in her career. The first time she had contested for the alderman’s position of a ward, she had been defeated; she had won the second time around but lost the seat just three years later as the Social Democrats swept to a landslide victory. She had fought to get back into the Chamber of Aldermen at the next election, then gotten pregnant with Skystar and discovered that as an Alderman, she had no legal rights to any sort of maternity arrangements; she had been forced to waddle about the Chamber like a sweating duck, nine months pregnant, putting aside her discomfort for the sake of the party and the knife-edge votes where no one could afford to be absent.

Despite her background, she had had to fight every step of the way: to get back into the Chamber of Aldermen, to become leader of the Liberal Conservatives, to rid the party of its ‘nasty’ image rooted in a narrow base and narrower sympathies, and finally, to be elected not only to the Council but to the leadership of the Council. And she had done all of that while burying a husband and raising a daughter. She was not a stranger to reversals of fortune.

So why now did she feel so utterly defeated?

She wanted to scream, she wanted to howl, she wanted to throw things, she wanted to tear her office into pieces in her frustration, she wanted to tear her hair out, she wanted to run to the nearest religious house and demand to know why this was happening to her?

She wanted to put her head into her hands and weep.

It was the powerlessness, she realised; she hadn’t felt like this since her husband’s waning days, in the last days when it had become clear that no amount of busying herself searching for experimental treatments, no amount of phone calls with top Atlesian doctors, no amount of fight or fundraising or… anything, really, would be enough; the last days when it had become undeniable that her husband and the father of her child was going to die and there was nothing she could do except sit by his bedside and hold his hand while he slipped away from her.

She had never felt so helpless before or since. Though some of her misfortunes had been out of her hands, there had always been something she could do about them: she could institute better conditions for those who came after her, she could change the values of the party so that it won elections again, she could campaign hard, she could fight and change her fortune – and that of the kingdom – for the better.

But now… now, in the face of the shocks of this year, she felt again as she had felt when her husband had left her: helpless, powerless to help herself, powerless to do anything.

She hadn’t been able to stop the robberies, she hadn’t been able to stop the grimm from massing in the Emerald Forest, and she couldn’t stop the White Fang now.

All she could do was trust that General Ironwood’s Atlesian troops lived up to their vaunted reputation.

And this is what I’ll be remembered for. Not for the thriving economy, not for our welfare programs, not for anything that I actually did or could have done, not even for hosting a successful Vytal Festival. No, when people think of Novo Aris, they will remember that I was First Councillor when the White Fang ran riot and the grimm threatened the outlying settlements of Vale.

Her gaze fell down to the picture of Skystar on her desk. Skystar. Oh, God, where was Skystar? Where was the attack? Lost Valley Square, that was what Ozpin had said. Novo brought up the keypad on her desk, trembling fingers flying across it as she typed in her daughter’s name.

As the computer built into her desk began to search for a connection, Novo noticed her hands shaking.

She clenched them into fists in a vain effort to prevent it.

Skystar answered, a bright smile upon her face that seemed almost indecent in the circumstances. “Hey, Mom!” she greeted brightly, before noticing the look on her mother’s face. “Is everything okay?”

“Where are you?” Novo demanded bluntly.

Skystar frowned. “I’m at the Limehouse shopping mall, why?”

“Listen to me,” Novo said. “I need you to get down here right away. And I also need you to call your Aunt Ocean and tell her to bring Silverstream and Terramar here as well. I’d call myself, but I’ll be too busy.”

“You want us all to come down to the Palace?” Skystar asked. “Why? Mom, what’s going on?”

“Just do it!” Novo snapped. She took a deep breath. “Please, Skystar, trust me. And do it right now.”

Skystar looked a little concerned now – not nearly as concerned as she would have been if she’d known what Novo knew – but she nodded. “Okay, Mom, right away.”

“Good girl,” Novo said, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’ll see you when you get here, but now, I have work to do.” She hung up, and then stood up.

She felt… not better, perhaps, but calling her daughter, doing that one thing to keep her safe, had reminded her that she was not completely helpless in this situation. If she could not affect the battle that might soon break out, that didn’t mean that there was nothing she could do.

She threw open the door to her office and strode out, nearly colliding with Aspen in the corridor.

“Excuse me there, Novo,” he said, backing away from her, a smile upon his face that made his emerald eyes glimmer slightly. “I mean Madame Councillor, of course.”

That was an old game between them, to pretend even now to be unsure of where the boundary lay between her old friend from university and her political subordinate, but she had no time for it now.

“Aspen, I’m about to declare a state of emergency. I need you to order the police to start evacuating everyone in a twelve block radius of Lost Valley Square and to coordinate with Professor Ozpin for assistance from his students. Then join me in Council chambers; we’re having an emergency session.”

“To discuss the emergency, one assumes,” Aspen muttered. “What’s going on?”

“The White Fang are about to attack,” Novo said. “They have an army, and it seems they are going to come up from underground using the old Mountain Glenn tunnels.”

Aspen’s eyes widened, all joy departing from them. “The White Fang,” he murmured. “How did we find out about this?”

“Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood suspected that something was up, and sent in a scouting party to investigate,” Novo growled.

“What? And they’re only now-”

“We can discuss Ozpin’s future later,” Novo said. “For now… we have work of our own to do.”

Aspen cleared his throat. “Of course. I’ll get in touch with the Commissioner immediately. Does Seaspray know about this?”

“Seaspray has delegated our defences to General Ironwood and the Atlesian expedition,” Novo informed him tartly. “Apparently, our troops aren’t good enough, and we don’t have enough ships. He didn’t mention reductions in the defence estimates, but… I could take the implication.”

“Ironwood?” Aspen snapped.

“I’m not enamoured with the man myself,” Novo said. “But right now, he might be our best hope. Talk to the police, then join me in chambers.”

“At once,” Aspen said.

"Forgive my lateness, gentlemen," Cadance said as she strode into the Council Chamber. "The traffic was particularly bad."

The chamber in which the Atlesian council met to debate, discuss, and ultimately govern the nation was a semi-circular one, and at this moment dimly lit with only a few green footlights to provide illumination as Cadance climbed up onto the dais. Said dais took up the north side of the chamber, with a semi-circular table of pristine white set upon it, glowing faintly in the low light. The flat and southern side of the chamber was taken up with an enormous screen displaying the image of General Ironwood, his head and shoulders taking up almost the entire frame – although it was just possible to make out that he was on the bridge of one of his warships.

"Councillor Cadenza," General Ironwood acknowledged her with a nod of his head. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, General," Cadance said as she sat down, smoothing out her navy blue skirt with her hands as she did so. "Would somebody mind filling me in on anything that I've missed?"

"As I was just informing the council," General Ironwood said, "we have received credible intelligence that an effort is underway by the White Fang to breach the defences of Vale and launch a large-scale attack into the city itself."

“'A large-scale attack'?” Cadance repeated. “What kind of scale are we discussing here, General?”

“The exact numbers are unknown,” General Ironwood replied. “But we anticipate hundreds of enemy combatants, if not over a thousand, well-supplied with dust and military equipment.”

Cadance could not restrain the gasp that rose her lips in response to this. The operation surrounding her wedding was still – until now, it seemed – the largest and the most complex operation ever carried out by the White Fang, and that had involved fifty terrorists at most. To go from that to hundreds, possibly thousands of people… how? And why? Were they really hoping to bring down an entire kingdom? Did they really think they could?

“The Valish Council has requested my assistance and that of my forces in dealing with this threat,” General Ironwood continued. “I have, of course, agreed, and ships and troops are moving into position now to counter what we believe to be the location of the attack. I thought it best to inform the Council, both in case I need to call upon additional ships and units and because this will undoubtedly end up on the news in any case.”

Cadance placed her hands on the white table. It was cool beneath her palms. "It seems so incredible that even the White Fang would try to do this; General, can you say where this intelligence has come from?"

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “We received a message from an insurrectionist, Cinder Fall, with ties to the White Fang. In that message she… invited us to Mountain Glenn. Discussion with the incarcerated criminal Roman Torchwick further suggested that there might be a White Fang base in the area.”

“Sounds like a trap,” drawled Councillor Bradley from where he sat at the centre of the curving table. Standing not quite six feet tall, with a face lined and wrinkled by the years and white hair cut very close to his scalp, Bradley was the Father of the Council, which denoted his seniority in years – for thirty-eight years, he had held his seat, nearly half the lifetime of the kingdom and more than half the time that Atlas had been in the air – but did not give him any especial powers or privilege. Nevertheless, he had lived through a great deal; he was the only member of the Council who had been born in the Kingdom of Mantle, and the weight of his experience meant that he bore listening to.

In this case, Cadance was inclined to agree with him: it did sound like a trap.

“Nevertheless,” General Ironwood said, “rather than risk the consequences of ignoring this, Professor Ozpin and I despatched a joint reconnaissance expedition, consisting of the Valish Team Sapphire, the Atlesian Team Rosepetal, and ancillary Blake Belladonna to investigate. Elements of that expedition have now reported back-”

“'Team Rosepetal'?” interrupted Councillor Camilla, a slightly plump, dark-skinned woman whose dark hair, bound in a wide bun at the nape of her neck, was beginning to give way to grey. “Isn’t that the team deployed around Doctor Polendina’s experiment?”

“Penny Polendina is a member of Team Rosepetal, yes,” General Ironwood said impassively.

“Do you mean to tell us that you sent our massively experimental, massively expensive R&D project into a trap?!” demanded Councillor Sleet, a pinch-faced man whose face was largely concealed behind a very large, very square pair of glasses. “What were you thinking?”

Cadance was almost inclined to wonder that herself, although in her case, her concern was more for Twilight than for Penny. What had General Ironwood been thinking, sending Twilight into such a situation?

And what had he meant when he said that ‘some elements’ of the expedition had reported back with information about a grimm attack on Vale? What about the other elements that had not reported back? Were they lost? Was Twilight…? The mere thought was enough to chill Cadance’s heart, and the thought of how her husband would take it… Shining Armour loved his sister so much; if any harm came to her… it would haunt them both until the end of their days.

Please, let it not be so.

“I was thinking that this situation required the best I could find,” General Ironwood said. “I believe the fact that they have uncovered the enemy plot in time for us to take steps to thwart it bears out my decision and my assessment of the abilities of my team.”

“Events are not sufficiently far along to judge the consequences of your actions, General Ironwood,” Camilla declared.

“Either for your team, for Vale, or for your career, for that matter,” Sleet muttered.

“Now, folks, let’s all calm down just a little,” Bradley said. “We built the darn thing so that she could fight, after all, not so we could lock her in a box at the fairground.”

“I’m inclined to say,” added Councillor Ivy Brown, a woman only a couple of years younger than Cadance herself, with hair that was – judging by the hints of brown at the roots – dyed green to match her eyes, “that if Vale is saved by the contribution of Penny Polendina, then it will have the been worth the expense based on that alone.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Sleet said.

“General,” Cadance said. “What…?” She took a moment to collect herself. It wouldn’t do – nor would it do much for her standing on the council – if she yelled out ‘what do you know about Twilight? Is she okay?’ much as she might want to. She smoothed out her skirt again and with one hand slightly adjusted her jacket. “What is the status of the team you sent to Mountain Glenn?”

General Ironwood took a deep breath. “Penny has been damaged,” he began.

“Oh, for the love of-” Sleet cried.

“But we believe that she can be repaired,” General Ironwood continued. “She was escorted from the battlefield by Cadet Soleil and is on her way back to my ship as we speak, along with an Atlesian citizen rescued from captivity, Tech Specialist Twilight Sparkle, and Team Tsunami who were acting as a mission reserve.” General Ironwood glanced at Cadance, and she was sure that he had only mentioned Twilight in order to assuage her concerns.

She was grateful for that, but it was not her only concern. “So the only member of Team Rosepetal unaccounted for is Rainbow Dash.”

General Ironwood clenched his jaw. “The last report from Rainbow Dash was that she was attempting to prevent the White Fang from opening a way into Vale. Her survival at the present time is neither guaranteed nor determined.”

Cadance sighed. “I see,” she murmured. “Thank you for your candour, General.” She had hoped for Rainbow Dash’s help carrying forward the investigation into SDC working practices, but if Rainbow did not survive… then Cadance would have to ensure that she uncovered the truth anyway, in Rainbow’s name.

“Perhaps,” Councillor Sleet said, “we should discuss the wisdom of retreat at this time.”

“'Retreat'?” General Ironwood said, as a frown disfigured his face. “Councillor, Vale has requested our assistance.”

“Which does not bind us to give it to them,” Sleet replied. “Why can the Valish not defend their own kingdom? Would they come to our aid if we were in need?”

“That’s a ridiculous question,” Cadance said. “Atlas has the most advanced military in Remnant.”

“A fact which the other kingdoms exploit to avoid spending on their own defence!” Sleet declared. “Why should we fight for Vale when Vale cannot fight for itself? If the White Fang are victorious, then we will have lost ships and men, and for what?”

“Councillors, I have no intention of losing this battle,” General Ironwood declared. “Preparations are well underway, the White Fang have no idea that we have been forewarned of their assault, and if they break through, I will give them a shock that they will not see coming, and I promise that it will be the last thing they see.”

“At what cost?” asked Camilla.

“What cost to our reputation, Chancellor, if we turn and run?” Cadance demanded. She rose to her feet so that all could see her and she could speak without looking so awkward. “If we abandon Vale, why should Mistral or Vacuo ever trust us again?”

Bradley looked at her for a moment. “Councillor Cadenza, perhaps you might like to clarify?”

“The alliance of the four kingdoms is founded upon the strength of Atlas,” Cadance said. “We protect the world and in so doing maintain its harmony. We make sacrifices for the sake of others, and those are sacrifices that we make willingly because we believe in what we’re doing for the good of Remnant and because we know that nobody else would take up the sword and shield that we set down. Nobody else would aid their neighbours as we do.

“We are the shield of Remnant. We have taken up that duty before the world. But that shield will be broken the moment that the world finds out that we turned our back on Vale when it needed us the most.

“Everything depends on the strength of Atlas: the single market, the world economy, peace and harmony and life itself. Do we really dare put all of that at risk because we’re afraid? Because we’re afraid of a battle that our own commander assures us can be won?”

The other members of the Council were silent for a moment.

Bradley was quiet for a moment. “We do trade a great deal with Vale. If we lost that, I suppose I’d have old Jacques Schnee hollerin’ in my ear about all the lien he’s lost. Not to mention that we’ve let it a little late to get his kid out. And I suppose it’s the right thing to do, standing by an ally. You really think you can win this, General?”

“Yes, Councillor,” Ironwood said. “Without a doubt.”

“Then you’d better do it then,” Bradly said. “If you need reinforcements from nearby units you can draw on them. You’d better be sure about this.”

General Ironwood glanced at Cadance as she sat down. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes told her ‘thank you.’

Evacuation Order (Rewritten)

Evacuation Order

"Who's a good boy?" Nora cooed as she tossed a tasty treat through the air and watched as Zwei leapt up to catch it. "You are! Oh, you're such a good boy I want you to stay forever!"

Zwei barked happily. He was a corgi with a dark grey back and a white belly and a face where the two met, and he belonged to Yang and Ruby’s father. He had arrived that morning in the mail – yes, really, don’t think about it too hard – as Dad was going on a mission and wouldn’t be around to take care of him. Personally, Yang would have rather that her dad had taken Zwei with him – he was a lot more useful in a fight than his small size and self-servingly cute expression would have you believe – but not every mission was suitable for a dog, she guessed, and she didn’t exactly object to having Zwei around.

He was, after all, a very good boy.

"Don't feed him too much, Nora," Yang said, looking over her shoulder from where she was loading her Ember Celica. "He'll get too fat to hunt."

Zwei barked indignantly.

"Not to mention," Ren pointed out, "that I brought those snacks for our mission."

"Oh, there'll be something to eat once we get to the village," Nora declared dismissively. Her eyes widened. "There will be something to eat once we get to the village, won't there?"

"Something to eat, sure," Yang said, putting on her gauntlets. "Snacks? I wouldn't be so sure. These out of the way villages don't get deliveries from MegaMall."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that before?" Nora demanded of Ren.

"I did," Ren replied calmly. "More than once."

The tannoy blared into the dorm room, and presumably across all the dorm rooms. "Will all team leaders please report to the auditorium immediately?" Professor Port's rich, fruity voice echoed into the room.

Yang shared a look with Nora and Ren. "What do you suppose that's about?"

Nora shrugged. "Maybe the headmaster thought of a better speech to give."

"I don't think that's likely," Ren said quietly.

"Well, I guess there's only one way to find out," Yang said. "Look after Zwei until I get back."

She left Nora giving her family dog a belly-rub as she left the dorm room and joined the flood of other team leaders likewise leaving their dorm rooms and making their way down the corridors and stairs and out into the sunlit grounds, streams of students flowing in from the different dormitories to form an ever-swelling river headed for and into the auditorium.

If Yang had wondered at first why it was only leaders being summoned instead of whole teams, then the crowded state of the room when she got there gave her all the answer that she needed: with Beacon playing host to the Atlas, Shade, and Haven students for the Vytal festival, there was no way that every single student would have been able to get in for whatever it was that they were needed in here for. Even with only team leaders, it was a tight squeeze, and Yang had to try and find a way through the press as she looked for a familiar face.

"Hey, Yang!" Sun called, waving his hand in the air to get her attention.

Yang squeezed through the crowd of her fellow team leaders to reach the casually-dressed leader of Team SSSN. "Hey, Sun. How's it going?"

"Not bad," Sun said. "We start our mission today."

Maybe you do, anyway, Yang thought. “What did you pick?” she asked.

“There’s a merchant overdue back from their last trip; his husband requested a huntsman to go out and look for him,” Sun explained. “I thought we’d tag along.”

"Good luck with that, and good luck to the merchant, too," Yang said; it was never good news when someone was overdue from a trip through the wilds, and she knew from experience that, sometimes, it was the worst news… but it didn’t have to be in every case, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be in this case. "We're heading out to spend a week shadowing the sheriff of a village out towards the mountains. We leave tomorrow. Or at least… we were supposed to."

"Yeah," Sun murmured. "You don't know what's up with this either?"

"Not a clue," Yang said.

“Thank you all for coming,” Professor Ozpin said, as he strode briskly onto the stage. “I apologise for the somewhat cramped conditions. Be assured that I’ll be keeping this brief.” He spoke quickly, his tone having lost a little of its usual languor. Yang couldn’t help but wonder if something was up that had him rattled.

“The Council of Vale has just declared a State of Emergency,” Professor Ozpin said, thus giving Yang the answer that she’d been looking for, even if it wasn’t the answer she wanted. All around her, the team leaders began to mutter to one another, but Professor Ozpin’s voice rose above them all. “And has ordered – quiet, please – an evacuation of all districts around Lost Valley Square in District Eighteen and in a direct line east towards the city limits. They have requested – and I have promised – the full cooperation of Beacon Academy and its students.”

“Does this mean that the grimm are attacking?” Sun whispered.

“Can’t be,” Yang replied out of the corner of her mouth. “District Eighteen is inner city; that’s nowhere near the outskirts.”

“I am afraid that, as of now, all field missions are cancelled until further notice,” Professor Ozpin went on. “Instead, you will all be assisting in the evacuation efforts, ensuring that the streets are clear, that everyone has gotten out of their homes and is making their way safely to designated shelters, that nobody is getting lost or hurt, and that all panic is kept to an absolute minimum. Remember: you are representing not only your academies but also your kingdoms, so put on a friendly face for the people and make sure they feel safe.”

Yang raised her hand above the crowd.

Professor Ozpin looked at her for a moment. “Yes, Miss Xiao Long?”

“Should we bring our weapons, Professor?” Yang asked, partly because it was a question that she felt she needed an answer to and partly because what that answer was would tell her a lot about what the headmaster wasn’t saying.

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “You should ensure that your teams are fully-equipped for the field, yes,” he said, causing another round of murmurs and mutters to run through the leaders gathered in the auditorium, because you didn’t bring weapons for just a community outreach exercise.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it isn’t a gas leak, Yang thought.

Was Ruby involved in this? Was this connected to the mission that Team SAPR had gone on with Team RSPT, the mission that Blake had gone with them on, leaving her own team behind? The mission that was so tough it had required a third team to act as backup just in case? Yang had no proof, but something in her gut, some kind of sisterly feeling, suggested that she might be.

She didn’t know how, but… she couldn’t shake it. If it wasn’t connected at all, then it was one hell of a coincidence.

“Please report to Professor Port or Doctor Oobleck,” Professor Ozpin said, gesturing to the two teachers standing beside him at the edge of the stage, “who will give you an area of the city to cover. Please brief your teams – I regret that I am unable to address everyone properly – and…” He paused for a moment, and in that moment, he almost seemed regretful about something. “And good luck out there. I know that you won’t let your schools, your kingdoms, or yourselves down.”

“Nice day to get out of… well, out, isn’t it?” observed Pearl Wheatley as she and Miranda walked out of the coffee shop onto the streets surrounding Lost Valley Square.

Miranda Wells suddenly felt a spike of cold run up and down her spine, but why? She couldn’t comprehend it. It didn’t make sense. So she dismissed it, or else tried to dismiss it.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is,” she answered after a pause.

Pearl rolled her eyes. Standing six foot tall, with her blonde hair shaved on the right and the remainder – dyed an uneven black that left blonde roots and ends streaks still visible – entirely brushed over onto the left, dressed in a black t-shirt, short skirt, and high boots, and with the head of a phoenix tattooed across her back, visible poking above the collar of her shirt as though it were peering out at the world, she looked like she would be more at home in a club than in a literature class. Nevertheless, taking the same literature course was what she had in common with the girl from Alba Longa. That, and the fact that they were both working as waitresses, albeit in different places, to pay off their tuition.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” she asked. “It was your idea in the first place!”

“I know,” Miranda acknowledged. “And I did like it, I liked it a lot. We should do it more often. I just… I don’t know. Forget it, I’m sorry. I just had one of those ‘walking over my grave’ moments, that’s all.”

“Ooh, spooky,” Pearl said, a smile spreading across her face to reach her amber eyes as she wiggled the fingers of one lace-gloved hand. “You’ll be fine, so long as you remember: don’t hide in an old oak chest, don’t follow your sworn enemy into his wine cellar, don’t go and stay in a crumbling old castle, and don’t marry a foreign aristocrat.” Her grin widened. “That last one won’t be a problem for you,” she added, causing Miranda to roll her eyes in turn. “So, where did you get the idea to take me out to work on our papers for Professor Radcliffe?”

“Oh,” Miranda said. “It was something one of Jaune’s teammates did; they seemed to have a good time, so I thought we might give it a try.”

Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “Right. One of Jaune’s teammates.”

“She has a name; I just can’t remember it right now.”

“No, you can just remember the name of the boy who you totally don’t have a crush on.”

“I do not have a crush on Jaune Arc!” Miranda declared.

“That’s what I said,” Pearl agreed innocently.

“But I mean it!” Miranda insisted. “Jaune… Jaune’s a nice guy, and I worry about him up at that school, and I hope that he does well there at the same time because I’m human, and humans are a mass of contradictions, but I do not have a crush on him. I was never what he really wanted, and he’s not what I want either.” A smile played across his face. “You know that Pyrrha Nikos is an actual princess?”

“I know that researching someone else’s girlfriend is totally normal behaviour.”

“She’s a celebrity, Pearl; it’s the first subsection on her CC-cyclopedia page,” Miranda said defensively. “Currently the last living scion of the Nikos family, her mother is the current claimant to the defunct Mistralian throne.”

“I’ve never really liked that genre,” Pearl opined. “I prefer horror literature.”

“My point is,” Miranda said firmly, “that Jaune… he’s found his princess, and I’m happy for him. Besides, like I said, he isn’t my type.”

“And your type is?”

Miranda grinned. “I want the foreign aristocrat with the crumbling castle.”

Pearl let out a snorting giggle. “Secrets or ghosts?”

Miranda considered that. “Both.”

“Ambitious,” Pearl observed. “Just don’t go hiding in any chests on your wedding day.”

“I won’t,” Miranda promised. “Who plays hide and seek on their wedding day, anyway?”

“Well, in some versions of the story, she was playing a prank.”

“What kind of a prank is hiding in a chest on your wedding day?” Miranda rephrased.

“I don’t know,” Pearl replied. “The kind they loved in the olden days, apparently. Someone needs to write a version of that story that explains all of that stuff.”

“Why don’t you write it yourself?” Miranda suggested.

“You know, I just might do that,” Pearl said.

Whatever Miranda might have said in response to that was lost as the alarms began to sound.

“What the hell?” Pearl muttered, reaching for the bag that hung from her shoulder – or more accurately, reaching for the switchblade she kept in the bag.

“Attention citizens,” the automated announcer’s voice rang out, calm and collected. “The Council has ordered an evacuation of this district. Please exit the area and seek shelter immediately.”

The two of them looked at one another.

“Do you know where the nearest shelter is?” Miranda asked.

“I… think it’s this way,” Pearl said, gesturing to the left. “Come on, follow me.”

On Vetera Airbase, the Bullhead engines growled and grumbled to one another like restless creatures as they sat on the grey tarmac square, lined up in long columns from nose to tail, engines pointing downwards, waiting for the command to roar in earnest and drive their airships upwards into the sky.

The airships belonged, one and all, to the Mount Aris Light Dragoons regiment of the Valish Defence Forces. The regiment had, as the name suggested, been a cavalry unit once, before advances in technology had rendered horsed cavalry obsolete, and so, the nose of each bullhead was painted with the regimental symbol: a galloping white horse with a pair of iron wings sprouting out of its back.

In that regard, tradition had made way for modernity and the necessities of warfare in the current year; in other respects, tradition had prevailed, as in the brass helmets with black horsehair crests which the soldiers of the regiment wore and which would have been familiar to their ancestors of eighty or a hundred years earlier, even as said ancestors would probably have found the modern green uniforms a little lacking in character and decoration.

In the unit’s choice of weapons, tradition and modernity blended together in what Colonel Sky Beak Aris – upon marriage, he had taken the name of his wife’s prestigious family, in what was either a gesture of respect or an act of brown-nosing, depending on who you asked – considered to be a perfect match; each trooper carried not only a square, blocky Valish assault rifle, but also wore a sword at their hip. It was a loadout not dissimilar to that which the men of this regiment had carried in the cavalry days, but against an enemy that didn’t exactly seek to exchange fire with the enemy, it wasn’t a bad thing to have something handy for close quarters.

The Bullhead engines growled impatiently, and aboard the bullheads, eight hundred men and women in green jackets and antique brass helmets with their rifles and their swords and their array of specialist support weapons waited.

The orders had come down from General Seaspray: the whole regiment to stand up at combat readiness and await further orders. Those further orders, bizarrely, would come not from Seaspray but from the Atlesian General Ironwood.

That had been about a half an hour ago, and there had been no further orders since, either from General Seaspray or from General Ironwood. The men, crammed into their Bullheads with the engines running, were starting to grow restless.

Some of them, including his own Regimental Sergeant Major, were starting to brew up on the tarmac next to their airships, and at this point, he could hardly blame them.

Sky Beak himself sat on the edge of his own command Bullhead, his legs resting lightly on the ground, his wings tucked in behind him as he looked down at the scroll in his hands.

“So you’re at the palace?” he asked. “And your mother and brother are with you?”

“That’s right, Dad, and Skystar too,” Silverstream replied, her voice emerging from out of the scroll. “She was the one who told us all to come here. Apparently, Aunt Novo asked her to do it. Dad, what’s going on?”

I wish I knew, Sky Beak thought. Novo knew – or at least, he hoped she did – but was doubtless too busy to tell her niece or her sister. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I’m just glad you’re in a secure location. Have you seen your aunt?”

“No, she’s in the Council Chamber,” Silverstream said.

“I see,” Sky Beak said. “Stay where you are until she says otherwise. I have to go now, but give my love to your mother and brother.”

“I will, Dad,” Silverstream said. She smiled. “I love you.”

Sky Beak returned her smile in kind. “I love you too,” he said, and then hung up.

The large shadow of Regimental Sergeant Major Cobalt Cloudhunter fell across him. Sky Beak looked up to see his burly senior RSM looming over him with the seven barrelled rotary cannon that he carried in place of a rifle slung across his back and a steaming plastic cup of tea in his hand. “Tea, sir?”

Sky Beak ran one hand through his mane of silver-white hair. “Sergeant Major, we’ve been sat here for an hour waiting for orders for reasons we don’t understand, placed under Atlesian command for reasons we don’t understand, my wife and children are sheltering in the Palace for reasons that they and I don’t understand, and the one person who hopefully does understand what the hell is going on is too busy to say anything about it. Do you think that any of that can be solved by a cup of tea?”

Cloudhunter shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt, sir.”

Sky Beak stared up at him for a moment. “No, I suppose it couldn’t,” he admitted, taking the cup from out of the RSM’s hand. “Thank you, Sergeant Major.”

“No trouble at all, sir,” Cloudhunter said genially, sitting down next to the colonel. He pointed up into the sky, where the Atlesian cruisers were moving in a stately fashion over the Valish skyline. “Now will you look at them, sir.”

“An impressive sight,” Sky Beak murmured.

“That they are, sir, but I’m more interested in where they’re going,” Cloudhunter said. “All facing towards something, they are. They weren’t doing that before.”

“By God, you’re right, Sergeant Major,” Sky Beak acknowledged. “And facing towards something in the city too, not beyond it.” He frowned. “Do you think it could be White Fang?”

“Why would you need all those big ships to deal with the White Fang, sir?” Cloudhunter asked.

“Why did they bring them in the first place?” Sky Beak asked.

“Well, that’s a question I couldn’t answer, sir, but here’s one for you: why would we be stood up like this to deal with the White Fang?”

“I can’t answer that any more than you can answer mine, Sergeant Major,” Sky Beak replied. “But one thing’s for sure-”

“This definitely isn’t a drill,” Cloudhunter said gloomily.

Sky Beak sipped some of his tea. “Good tea this, Sergeant Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sky Beak took another drink. “Where do you think that is?” he asked. “Where those cruisers are gathering?”

Cloudhunter was quiet for a minute. “Hammersmith?” he guessed.

“I’d say it’s closer to the Jewellery Quarter,” Sky Beak replied.

“Well, you’d know more about that than me, sir, being an officer and all,” Cloudhunter said. “The Jewellery Quarter is a little too pricey for me.”

“Hmm,” Sky Beak murmured. “Your wife doesn’t live anywhere near there, then?”

“No, sir, thank goodness,” Cloudhunter said. “Salina’s down in Elephant and Castle with little Sea Poppy, a long way from… whatever’s going on over there.” He sighed. “Not everyone can say the same.”

“No,” Sky Beak agreed. “But we are family men, Sergeant Major, we have the right, I think, to care about the wellbeing of our families.”

Cloudhunter opened his mouth, but his words were snatched away by an almighty explosion which split the sky, even as a great column of fire erupted briefly into the air in the midst of the gathering Atlesian warships, replaced after a moment by a pillar of smoke, rising up from the surface like a tree, a black and twisted tree around which the cruisers gathered.

Cloudhunter got to his feet. “Was that a bomb, sir?”

Sky Beak frowned. “You don’t need five airships to deal with a bomb,” he muttered.

“Due to the current state of emergency, all citizens are required to evacuate this district. Please make your way to the nearest shelter outside the quarantine zone in a calm and orderly fashion. If the nearest shelter is at full occupancy, please find the next shelter with spare capacity. There is no need to panic. Your safety is in good hands.”

The announcement floated out across the street over the public address system. The voice was somewhat female with a hint of the robotic about it, with a stilted and stuttering delivery that came from having each word individually recorded before a computer somewhere stitched them together to form the desired sentence. One could hear the automation in every awkward pause or inappropriate tone or cadence.

At this particular moment, as she listened to the address for what must have been the sixth or seventh time as it repeated at intervals, Weiss wished that everyone could just believe that their safety was in good hands.

Specifically, she wished the crotchety old woman stubbornly ensconced in her enormous armchair in the living room of her house would believe it.

“Ma’am,” she said, through ever-so slightly gritted teeth, “you’re the last person on this street to evacuate-”

“I told you, I ain’t leaving,” the old woman squawked in an accent reminiscent of Lieutenant Martinez, only much more grating. This woman’s voice was thick enough to saw through wood and about as pleasant to listen to. “I’ve lived in this house for nearly fifty years, and ain’t nobody gonna turn me out of it.”

“Ugh,” Weiss sighed. “Nobody is trying to take your house away… ma’am.” She took a deep breath and tried to remember what Professor Ozpin had said about being nice to the populace. Calm. Controlled. Dignified, as a Schnee should be. That was harder when she could sense the mixture of awkwardness and amusement coming from her team-mates. I swear, if Russell starts laughing, I’m going to learn to summon just so I can sic a beowolf on him. “But the Council has ordered a mandatory evacuation-”

“I don’t need no government telling me what to do. When I was a girl, people used to pull their weight instead of relying on handouts from the Council. Well, you can tell everybody that I ain’t moving, no matter what they say. The moment I get out of here, the neighbours are going to come in and steal all my stuff.”

Weiss couldn’t imagine why anybody would want to steal the chintzy, tacky baubles that this woman was displaying in her home. “Ma’am, your neighbours have all evacuated already-”

“That’s what they want you to think. They’re watching me. They’re always watching me, and the moment I’m gone, they’ll be right back here. They’re faunus, you know what I’m saying?”

“We understand what you’re saying; we just don’t care,” Cardin declared as he stepped forward and scooped the old woman up in his arms, flinging her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. “Come on, grandma. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Hey!” the woman squawked. “Hey, you can’t do this! Put me down you, big palooka!” She beat at his back with her fists, but between his armour and his aura, Cardin didn’t seem to feel it at all.

“Cardin,” Weiss said.

Cardin looked at her, his face inquisitive.

Weiss sighed. “Thank you.”

The four of them emerged into the street, where a steady flow of people were moving on foot down the centre of the road, being waved through the gap in a roadblock being erected by a group of Atlesian soldiers. Valish police were working both sides of the in-progress barricade, directing people moving towards it to keep moving and helping them get to a shelter once they were on the other side of the block.

One of those working on the ‘wrong’ side of the roadblock, in the area that had been ordered evacuated by the Council, was Lieutenant Martinez, who looked as though she had just finished checking the house next door to that from which Weiss and the rest of WWSR had emerged. She looked at Cardin, with the shrieking old woman on his shoulder, with a degree of bemusement on her face.

“Is she not able to walk?” she asked, although the way that laughter seemed to be edging into her voice suggested that she knew, or was beginning to guess, the answer.

“Are you a cop?” the old woman demanded. “I want this schlemiel arrested! I want him shot! I want him to put me down right now and let me back into my house! I’m gonna sue! I’m gonna sue your whole department! I want my lawyer!”

“You’ll need one when I arrest you for public nuisance if you don’t shut up,” Martinez said. “I take it she’s been like this since you went in the house?”

“Very much so,” Weiss sighed.

“I see,” Martinez said. “Cardin, put her down.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Martinez smiled thinly. “Trust me.”

Cardin’s eyebrows rose apprehensively. “Alright,” he muttered and set the old woman down upon the ground.

“Thank you,” she squawked. “Now if you will excuse me, it’s about time for my afternoon soaps.” She started back towards her front door, only to be restrained by the firm hand of Lieutenant Martinez on her shoulder.

“Now, ma’am,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “The Council-”

“The Council can kiss my patootie!”

“The Council has ordered an evacuation, which means you have two choices,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “You can walk calmly out of the quarantine zone like everybody else and head to the nearest shelter until all of this is over, or I can put the cuffs on you and perp walk you to the nearest station house in front of all your neighbours, just like one of those scumbags you see on TV. So what’s it gonna be?”

The old woman recoiled. “I have rights,” she began.

“Right now, what you have is my patience,” Martinez corrected her. “And it’s running out.” She started to reach for her cuffs.

“Okay, okay,” the woman said. “I’ll go to your stupid shelter. Oy! So much fuss about nothin’. Feh!” she started to totter away, and they soon lost sight of her in the crowd of people heading in the same direction.

“Thanks, El-Tee,” Cardin said.

Lieutenant Martinez smirked. “Perks of having an actual badge,” she said.

“Was it necessary?” Flash asked. “I mean, wasn’t there some way that we could have-?”

“Talked her into playing nice?” Lieutenant Martinez guessed. “I just did.”

“Due to the current state of emergency…”

“Is anyone else getting sick of hearing that?” asked Weiss.

“Yep,” Cardin agreed.

“Same here,” Flash murmured.

“Me too, but if they didn’t keep repeating it, people would forget,” Martinez said. “Or else they’d pretend to forget because, really, they just want to come back home.”

“Even though it’s dangerous?” Flash said.

“Some people are stupid, Flash; that’s why they need cops,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “To take care of them and protect other people from the consequences of the stupid people being dumbasses.” She looked up and down the road. “Speaking of which, I think we’re done here, but we should make one last sweep of the street in case anyone slipped back inside when we weren’t looking.”

Weiss looked down the street that Team WWSR had been assigned to take care of during the evacuation. It was empty, everyone else having already cleared out and headed for the shelters some time ago, with only that one particularly recalcitrant woman having remained.

The street was empty, and yet, it still bore so many signs of life. The evacuation order had come so swiftly and so suddenly that the street still bore evidence of what people had been doing when the order came: a couple of toy trucks, the ones that small children could ride on top of, abandoned in the middle of the road; a summer barbecue on a front lawn, smoking as the unattended hot dogs smouldered atop the grill; a clown car parked outside of someone else’s house and a birthday banner strung over the front door.

Flash saw the way Weiss’ gaze was pointed. “I don’t think I ever had a clown for my birthday party.”

“I did, when I was four,” Cardin said. “I hated him.”

“Nobody likes clowns,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Kids, in particular, hate clowns, and the only reason anyone hires a clown is that they never had a clown at their own birthday party and therefore never learned how much kids hate clowns.” She paused. “My husband never had a clown at any of his parties.”

“And he hired one for your kids, didn’t he?” Russel asked.

“Closest we have ever come to divorce,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered. “I spend too much time chasing guys who hide their faces to be comfortable having one in my house. Anyway: Weiss, Flash, you take the left; Cardin, Russel, you take the right. Knock on the doors, make sure there’s nobody still inside.”

They split up by pairs, each making their way to the designated side of the street, while Lieutenant Martinez stayed in the middle of the road, keeping an equal distance between the two pairs. The flow of people past the roadblock had ebbed by now, although doubtless it would pick up again as people came down from areas deeper within the quarantine zone. But for now, they had a measure of peace and privacy.

Above their heads, the Atlesian cruisers moved with an almost palpable sense of purpose, converging like wolves upon a location which, if it was the epicentre of the area they had been ordered to evacuate, was certainly not far from it.

Flash said. “So, what do you think is going on here? The evacuation, and the military, and… what does it mean?”

“I wish I knew,” Weiss said, and she meant that most sincerely. She might try and wrangle the truth out of Winter later. “And if I find out, I’ll let you know.”

Flash smiled. “Does your sister make a habit of spilling military secrets to you?”

Weiss sniffed. “Please. Winter is a thoroughgoing professional.”

“Which means it only happens sometimes.”

Weiss’ lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “It has been known to happen, once or twice.” Hopefully, she’ll indulge my curiosity this time.

Flash nodded. “I just hope…”

“What?”

“I hope it’s nothing too serious,” Flash said. “I’d like it to be nothing, but… considering what we’ve already been through…”

“You think it might be another bomb?” Weiss asked.

“I don’t know; it feels too big,” Flash said. “Have you ever heard of such a large evacuation because of a bomb threat? And troops setting up a perimeter? Why not just send in disposal? But on the other hand… what else could it be?”

Weiss hardly wanted to consider some of the more dangerous possibilities. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but we’ve done our job and ensured that this whole area has been evacuated to safety, which means that we should probably-”

She was interrupted by the shaking of the earth and by a thundering sound so loud and so immense that she thought it must have been a bomb after all, because what else could have made such a sound?

A pillar of smoke began to rise from the centre of the evacuation area, and the warning klaxons began to sound.

Flash stared, wide-eyed, at the pillar of smoke. "No," he muttered. "No, not again!"

He started to run towards the explosion.

"Wait, Flash!" Weiss yelled. "What are you doing?"

"People might… I can't just do nothing!" Flash replied, half-turning back to look at her for a moment before he started to run again.

Weiss looked at him, torn between exasperation and admiration. Yes, he was being rash, but he was also acting to try and preserve life, and wasn’t that what a huntsman was supposed to do in the end?

She glanced at Lieutenant Martinez. The lieutenant nodded silently, an approving smile upon her face.

“Cardin, Russel!” Weiss barked. “Come on!”

She didn’t check that they were following; rather, she trusted that they would, which wasn’t something she had expected she would find herself thinking at the start of this semester. As for herself, Weiss conjured up a line of speed glyphs down the road and glided swiftly and effortlessly over them until she'd caught up with him, at which point, she was able with just a little effort to match his pace.

He looked down at her. "You don't have to come with me."

"Yes, I do," Weiss informed him. "We all do, because we’re your team."

Sun's tail snaked out to snag the blue stuffed rabbit that had been dropped on the kerb. "Hey, kid," he called, attracting the attention of the little girl with a bow in her hair from whose backpack he had seen the toy fall. He smiled and waved the rabbit back and forth with his tail. "Does this little guy belong to you?"

Her eyes lit up. "Thanks, Mister!" she cried as she took the stuffed animal back with both hands.

Her mother thanked him too, before she took her daughter – whom she chided for dropping the toy in the first place – by the hand and continued to lead her away.

Sun's gaze travelled naturally upwards from the mother and daughter evacuating with the rest of the crowd streaming down the street towards the Atlesian forces setting up at the end of said street, where the block finished and the east-west road intersected with another travelling north-south. The barricades were a little taller than a man, and though he – and most huntsmen he knew – could have leapt them without much effort, they’d give you a lot of cover from someone trying to shoot you from the other side.

But that was ridiculous. Who was going to be shooting at Atlesian troops in the middle of Vale? Even the White Fang didn’t start gunfights in the street.

So what were the barricades for?

What was any of this for?

It was starting to make Sun's tail itch.

He turned away and sauntered over to where Neptune had just finished helping an old man up off the ground.

"Are you going to be okay? You sure? You take care now," Neptune said as the old fellow resumed walking. He glanced at Sun. "So, how's it going?"

Sun shrugged. "You tell me, man; I mean, what are we even doing out here?"

"We're making sure that everyone evacuates and nobody gets hurt," Neptune said. "Or panics, I guess."

Sun looked out over the crowd. Nobody was panicking panicking like 'aaah, we're all gonna die!' but everyone looked worried about all this, even the kids.

Sun Wukong was a big believer in the ability of a smile and a positive attitude to get you where you wanted to go, but even he had his limits.

“We’re doing an okay job,” Neptune said, as if he could read his partner’s thoughts. Maybe he could; he was really cagey about what his semblance was. Sage said it was Neptune’s ability to charm women with such ease, but Sun was almost sure that that wasn’t it.

Although he would have been a little jealous if it turned out to be true. There were times he wished that he had a semblance like that. Maybe Blake would pay him a little more attention if he did.

“I hope she’s okay,” he murmured.

“What?” Neptune said. “Who?”

“Blake,” Sun said, as though that were obvious. “I hope she gets back and can explain why… all this. It’ll totally turn out to be a big misunderstanding, you’ll see.”

Neptune frowned. “You think Blake has something to do with this?”

“Duh!” Sun said. “Blake was doing something secret, and now secret stuff is going on! It makes perfect sense!”

Neptune stared at him for like a minute or something. “I don’t think that’s how correlation works, and anyway-”

Neptune was shaken on his feet by a tremor that ripped through the earth with a rumble like a famished stomach, shaking people left and right as they cried out in alarm.

“Look!” someone shouted, pointing to the centre of the quarantine zone. A column of black smoke was rising into the sky, and the alarms were starting to blare out in warning.

“What’s going on?”

“Are we under attack?”

“What should we do?”

“Hey, everybody, calm down!” Sun yelled. He leapt nimbly onto the top of a lamppost, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and gave a shrill whistle to attract attention. “There is no need to panic. Now, keep moving straight to the shelters like they told you to, and my partner and I are gonna go check that out and make sure that everything is safe, okay? Okay.” Sun leapt off the streetlight and landed on his feet beside Neptune. “Come on, dude.”

“So… we’re heading towards the danger?”

“Of course we are,” Sun said. “Blake’s over there.”

The thief ran, and Arslan pursued him.

“Hoi!” Arslan yelled as she chased him through a back alley. She had left her team behind, but that hardly mattered. Or at least, she had left Bolin and Nadir behind. Reese was still around, she thought, even though Arslan couldn’t see her right now. If any of them could catch up, it would be Reese on her hoverboard.

But right now, the only thing that mattered was the thief in front of her.

She had caught him in the act of looting the houses that had been abandoned by the evacuation. Someone had left their door open, and Arslan had gone in to check if they were still there. She’d thought that she might find the owner still in the place or having come back for something they’d forgotten; instead, she’d found this little rat legging it out the backdoor, with jewellery and lien cards spilling out of his oversized hoodie.

So she’d chased him, with only a yell to let her teammates know what she was up to. It wasn’t as though she needed their help with this – or with much else, if she was being honest – she was the Golden Lion of Mistral, and she could catch one despicable little scumbag all by herself.

Mind you, he was pretty fast; he might even have his aura unlocked. He was certainly giving Arslan more of a chase than she had been expecting. She was gaining on him, but slowly, more slowly than she’d thought she would.

If he didn’t have his aura unlocked now, then Arslan would hate to see him when he did.

Of course, there’s always a way of finding out if he has his aura unlocked.

Nemean Claw appeared in Arslan’s hand with a flourish, like the dove appearing from nowhere in a magician’s act. As she ran, Arslan weighed the pros and cons of throwing it at him. On the downside, it might or might not be legal here in Vale, but on the plus side, he absolutely deserved it, and it would get him to stop running, probably.

The pros won out; in Arslan’s opinion, someone like this deserved a lot worse than she was about to do to him, and if it turned out that she’d broken the law, well… what was the point of making money if you couldn’t hire a good lawyer with it?

She threw Nemean Claw, the knife flying straight and true and just where Arslan wanted it: to scratch the thief’s leg enough to draw a smidgeon of blood.

It wasn’t a deep cut – it was barely a scratch – but as Arslan had hoped – clearly his aura wasn’t activated – it was enough to make the thief yelp with pain and stagger a little, his momentum lost.

And that was all the opening that Arslan needed. She pounced upon him, wrapping her arms around him as she bore him to the ground beneath her. He landed heavily, with a thump and another yelp of pain.

“You stabbed me!” he cried. “You bloody stabbed me!”

“Don’t be such a big baby; I barely scratched you,” Arslan said. “Frankly, you deserve a lot worse.”

“This is police brutality, this is!”

“It might be,” Arslan allowed. “Except I’m not a cop. And, again, you deserve a lot worse. Looting people’s houses because they’ve been told to evacuate! Scum like you are the reason people can’t leave their doors unlocked anymore. I ought to kick your head in.” Arslan paused. “I think I might do that anyway.”

“Probably best not to,” Reese said, her hoverboard whining as she flew around Arslan to come to a stop in front of her. “You might get in trouble.”

Arslan grunted as she got up and pulled the thief up onto his feet as well. “You know, my grandma told me once that back in the good old days, on the new year, families use to leave their doors open and line the way up with candles-”

“Why didn’t they use fire dust?” Reese asked.

“Because they couldn’t afford it, obviously,” Arslan said quickly. “Anyway, they used to open their doors and light the way, so that benevolent spirits would find their way into the house and bless the family for the coming year. Nobody would do that now, thanks to jackasses like this.”

Reese shrugged. “What good old days were they?” she asked, a mischievous tone creeping into her voice. “The days when you would have had to bow and scrape to Pyrrha and call her ‘your highness’? Are those the good old days you’re pining for?”

Arslan let out a decidedly fake laugh. “Listen, just because your history makes The Tribute Games look like a toddler’s sandpit doesn’t mean that you can spit on mine. Mistral has its faults, and it had its faults, but it’s still my home, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

She began to drag the thief away. Reese kept pace upon her hoverboard. Arslan continued. “And, I don’t know, I don’t want the slavery back or anything, but… having an emperor might not be so bad. Someone… someone who didn’t have to be shamed into doing the right thing, someone who didn’t have their eye on the main chance and how they could make lien out of office, someone who cared, you know? Someone who cared about the people.”

“A storybook monarch, you mean?” Reese said.

“You’re a real smartarse, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Reese said, a smile crossing her face.

Arslan huffed theatrically. “You know, they offered me a part in The Tribute Games.”

“Really?” the thief asked.

Arslan slapped him across the back of the head. “Shut up, you. Have I told you this before?”

“No,” Reese said. “I don’t think you have. You would have only been… how old would have been then?”

“Thirteen,” Arslan said. “They wanted me to play the sweet kid who gets killed.”

“Oh, that scene had me in tears,” Reese said. “Why didn’t you do it?”

“Because she died!” Arslan said, as though it should have been obvious. “I don’t die, and I don’t lose fights.”

“Some might say that’s compensating for something.”

“Remind me why you’re my favourite?” Arslan demanded.

Reese didn’t get the chance to answer before an explosion split the air, a column of fire and smoke erupting behind them, throwing up rock and debris into the air to fall heavily down to earth once more.

Reese’s eyebrows climbed into the recesses of her bangs. “What in the gods’ name was that?”

Arslan stared at the rising smoke still emerging from the sight of the blast, whatever it was.

Whatever it was. Whatever it was… someone was probably having a really bad day over there.

I’m going to defend humanity. I’m going to defend the world from the darkness that surrounds it.

Pyrrha’s words echoed through Arslan’s mind. Fancy words, she had called them at the time, justifications. Only…

Arslan looked at the thief in her grasp. People like him… it had felt good, bringing him down, doing some good.

Only he wasn’t the worst thing in the city right now, was he?

Pyrrha, Arslan was sure, would have rushed towards the site of the explosion.

But Pyrrha wasn’t here right now, was she?

Which means that second place is going to have to do, I guess.

I hope you appreciate this, P-money.

“Reese,” she said. “Can you take this bum and turn him over to the cops?”

“Sure,” Reese said. “What are you going to do?”

The thing that Pyrrha would do if she were here. “Something,” Arslan said, “probably very stupid.”

“Um, Bon Bon?” Lyra said tremulously. “Why are we going in the wrong direction?”

Bon Bon turned around to look at her. “What do you mean? We’re not going in the wrong direction.”

“Actually, we… kind of are,” Sky pointed out. “The cop sergeant said that once we had made sure the street was clear, we should head outside of the evacuation area, not into the middle of it.”

“We’re not heading right into the middle of the zone,” Bon Bon lied. “I just want to see if we can be of any use to anybody before we rush out, that’s all.”

Sky’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why we haven’t knocked on a single door or spoken to a single other huntsmen while you’ve been leading us in the same direction as those ships are going.” He gestured above them, to the Atlesian cruisers forming up above… above whatever it was that Cinder was planning.

“Now, Sweetie, something big is about to happen at Lost Valley Square, and I want you and your team to be there when it does.”

“'Lost Valley Square'? Why?”

“Because I’m telling you to go there,” Cinder snapped. She took a deep breath. “Because if you are there, and if you are able to make some sort of contribution to what is about to happen there, then it won’t matter that you were mean to poor Blake or that Sunset and Rainbow Dash don’t like you. Everything will be forgiven by what is about to happen in that square. So make sure you get there, one way or the other.”

Bon Bon had chosen the way that went there with her team. Reading between the lines, Cinder had set up a situation where any huntsman who found themselves at or near Lost Valley Square would be able to… to win glory? To save lives? To distinguish themselves? It had to be something like that, in order to achieve the effect that Cinder said her presence would have on people who had a low opinion of Bon Bon right now. That being the case, she felt as though her team deserved to share in the opportunity as well. Gods knew that Team BLBL hadn’t exactly distinguished itself in its first year at Beacon, but it sounded like that could start to change.

And if it did, that would be a good thing, no matter how it had come about.

“I just think,” she said, “that we should be looking to see if there is anything else that we can do to help, before we scuttle back into safety.”

“I agree,” Dove said. “There might still be something we can do here.”

“See?” Bon Bon asked. “Dove agrees with me; thank you, Dove.”

“Of course Dove agrees with you,” Sky replied. “Dove’s intense. No offence, Dove.”

“I… I don’t really know if I should be offended by that or not,” Dove murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Sky said. “You’re a good guy, and if I was in trouble, I’d be glad to know that you were looking out for me, but the whole 'knight in shining armour' thing, without a hint of self-awareness… it’s a little much, you know?”

Dove folded his arms. “If you were in trouble, you’d be glad to have me?” he asked.

Sky nodded. “That’s what I said, sure.”

“What about the people who might be in trouble now?” Dove asked. “Who do they have?”

Sky’s mouth hung open silently for a moment. “Well… okay, that sure is a point, but neither of you know that there is anyone in trouble.”

The world exploded not far away, a column of fire and smoke erupting into the sky high enough to block one of the Atlesian warships from view.

“You know, Sky,” Lyra murmured, “I think someone might be in trouble.”

You said it, Lyra. Cinder, what have you done? “Precisely!” Bon Bon declared. “Now the question is, are we going to be there for those people in trouble? Are we going to help folks in need? Are we going to be huntsmen? Or are we going to be the same old Team Bluebell that everyone at Beacon has come to expect: disloyal and unworthy?”

“We’re not-” Sky began.

“Yes,” Bon Bon said. “We are. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Blake isn’t exactly unpopular with the other students, and as far as they’re concerned, we’re the team that wouldn’t stand by Blake even when everyone else would.”

“We’re also the team whose leader is a massive racist, let’s not forget,” Sky muttered.

“I have played my part in this sorry state of affairs, I admit,” Bon Bon acknowledged. “But we have a chance to turn that around. Right now! The occasion is right before us; all we need to do is rise to it! So let me ask you this: are you huntsmen?”

“We are,” Dove declared. “You know we are, as I know we are.”

“But the world does not,” Bon Bon said.

“Then we’ll show them how wrong they are!” Lyra cried. “Won’t we, Sky?”

Sky glanced at them. “Is this… is this really what you want?”

“More than anything,” Lyra whispered.

“It’s not a question of what we want,” said Dove. “It’s a question of what is right.”

Sky snorted. “Then I’m with you,” he said. “All the way to the end.”

Team YR_N – or perhaps the addition of Zwei made them Team YRZN for now – had been assigned to oversee and assist in the evacuation of Lost Valley Square, in the very centre of the zone that the council had decided to evacuate. Yang had wondered why they needed to specially evacuate a shopping plaza, until she actually got there and found a few mom and pop stores whose owners lived overhead. But there still weren’t many actual residents, and the shoppers were very easy to convince to cut their trips short and return to their homes outside the… Yang didn’t want to call it a danger zone, but at the same time, she didn’t really know what else to call it. You didn’t order an evacuation if there wasn’t danger, right?

But whatever they wanted to call it, most people left pretty willingly once the loudspeakers started to broadcast, which meant that Yang and her team were actually wrapped up pretty early.

They could – and maybe, probably, should – have gone back to the perimeter to see if there was anything else that they could do, but something made Yang stay. Some kind of instinct, the same gut feeling that told her Ruby was involved in all of this somehow told her that, by accident or by design of Professor Ozpin, she was exactly where she needed to be.

The fact that she couldn’t immediately see how she was where she needed to be was frustrating, however, especially since it meant that she was hanging around this empty plaza with nothing to do and no way to explain her inaction to her teammates.

“Yang?”

Yang was roused by the sound of Nora’s voice. She hadn’t heard her teammate coming, which said something about how deep in thought she’d been because, well, it was Nora. At the moment, however, Nora Valkyrie didn’t seem quite her usual ebullient self. She seemed, and this was rare, a little worried.

“Are you okay?” Yang asked.

“I’m fine,” Nora said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yang said, a little too firmly and a little too loudly. “What makes you think-?” She stopped abruptly as Nora took one of her hands and squeezed it.

“It’s okay, Yang,” Nora said. “If I had a sister, I’d be worried too.”

“Although Team Sapphire has always performed exceptionally in the field,” Ren said, as he approached her from the other side, “that doesn’t make your concern unnatural or misguided.”

Zwei barked supportively.

Yang took a deep breath. “Guys… thanks.”

“We’re here for you,” Nora said. “If you need it. What else are teammates for, right?”

Yang nodded. “I just… I’ve got a feeling, like Ruby’s involved in this, you know?”

Neither of them said anything. But neither of them looked at her like she was crazy either.

“I thought it would be good for her to end up on a different team and break out of her shell,” Yang said, “but all it’s done is give me a heart condition.”

“That might be all it’s done for you,” Nora said, “but I think… she has come out of her shell, at least a little.”

Yang exhaled out through her nostrils. “More than a little. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make times like this any less worrying.”

“You can’t protect the people you love forever,” Ren said. “Sometimes, even with the best intentions… things happen that you never expected. And all you can do is… hope that they’re ready. And that you are.”

That… that was the most words Yang had ever heard out of Ren’s mouth at once, but, as much as she might not have wanted to hear it right now, he was talking a lot of sense. Ruby wasn’t some helpless child asleep in the back of a wagon any more. Yang and Dad and Uncle Qrow had all helped her to prepare for this, so that she could stare danger in the face and kick its ass. Sure, it would have been nice if she’d bothered to learn how to throw a punch, but she wasn’t unarmed – in any sense – and she wasn’t alone.

Ruby wasn’t helpless. Ruby was good, damn good, better than Yang herself in some ways. And she wasn’t alone.

Yang would probably always worry about her; that was part of what being a big sister was all about.

But worrying didn’t have to be the same as being afraid. And she didn’t have to be afraid for Ruby.

The yellowish-white stones of the plaza square exploded outwards in a geyser-like explosion of stone and concrete fragments and earth beneath, forcing Yang to grab Zwei as she and her teammates took what little cover they could behind a bench as stones and earth rained down around them.

A hole had been torn in the earth; in the centre of the square, a great gaping maw descended into the darkness of the earth beneath, a pit dropping down to… where?

Warning sirens began to blare in loud alarm.

Yang cocked her gauntlets as she cautiously approached the hole. Behind her, she could hear Nora’s hammer switching into grenade launcher mode, and she knew that Ren would have his pistols drawn.

Though the warning sirens were loud, she could still hear her own footsteps on the stones.

The hole was dark, but even as it descended into darkness, Yang could still make out that it did not drop vertically so much as formed an incline, a steep incline but still, a slope that somebody – or something – could run up if they chose.

“Do you think we should go down there?” Nora asked.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Ren replied.

“Hold on, guys,” Yang said. “I think I can hear something.”

She had to strain her ears to hear it over the sound of sirens blaring much closer by, but if she strained, then she could hear it nonetheless.

Gunfire, and the howling of the grimm.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: With all of the Ironwood and Ozpin stuff hived off into it's own chapter preceding, this chapter contains all of the student stuff which is expanded. There are new scenes for Arslan, BLBL and Miranda Wells, along with a brief appearance from Silverstream's father. Weiss' team bit gets expanded with the return of Lieutenant Martinez, and Cardin gets to tag along with Weiss and Flash because he's important enough for that this time around.

The Light in the Midst of the Tunnel (New)

The Light in the Midst of the Tunnel

The others arrived, first Blake, Applejack, and Winona, then Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby, all of them pursued by the bullets of the White Fang but not, crucially, by the White Fang themselves, who seemed to content themselves with firing shots which went wide as often as not as the huntsmen made it to the engine’s cabin at the front of the train.

“They’re not following?” Sunset asked as Pyrrha dropped down from off the roof of the last railway car, her red hair trailing behind her, bullets flying over her head as she landed gracefully upon the metal plate.

“It would seem not,” Pyrrha replied. “It appears we have taught them to be wary of getting too close.” Her slender brows furrowed. “I’m concerned with that explosion that we saw and heard. Sunset, did-?”

“That was the mine, yes,” Sunset admitted, the words coming quickly out of her mouth. “The mine… the mine exploded.” She licked her lips. “Cinder… detonated it remotely.”

“We probably should have seen that coming,” Rainbow muttered.

Ruby gasped, and even though it wasn’t directed at her, nevertheless, the shock and disbelief in her silver eyes sent daggers through Sunset’s heart. “But… but that means… that means that Vale-”

“Vale ain’t dead yet,” Applejack said. “It’s an angry mule’s kick, Ah’ll give ya that, but Vale ain’t done yet, any more than we are. Remember: thanks to y’all, the General knows all about the little scheme the White Fang were cookin’ up down here. So long as Twilight was able to warn them in time, there’ll be a nice little reception waitin’ on the other side of that breach.”

“A reception for the White Fang,” Blake pointed out. “Not for a horde of grimm.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rainbow said. “They’ll die in the fire all the same.”

“But was that all that we did?” Pyrrha asked. “If Cinder could have simply detonated the mine at any time… perhaps we ought to have seen it coming, perhaps it was foolish to think that by stopping the train we could also stop the explosion, but in that case, what did we board the train for? What have we done? If the warning was all that we have accomplished-”

“So far,” Sunset said, cutting Pyrrha off before she could talk herself further down a hole deeper and darker than that in which they were presently immersed. “It might be all that we’ve done so far, but the plan remains the same: we stop the train, use it to block the tunnel, and then get out the hole that Cinder so obligingly blasted for us.”

A moment of silence greeted her pronouncement, broken by Jaune saying, “You want to go out through the breach?”

“Why not?” Sunset asked. “We’ll be in Vale, we won’t need anyone to come and rescue us, and if the train isn’t enough to hold the grimm, we’ll be in a position to join the defence.”

It was… even saying that it was the least she could do felt inadequate in the face of what she had already done, but nevertheless, it was the least she could do. She had put Vale in danger, that was true, but as Applejack had said so wisely, Vale wasn’t done yet. Vale had been breached, but Vale had not yet fallen; if Twilight’s warning had reached the appropriate authorities, and if they had acted upon Twilight’s warning, then it was equally possible that nobody in Vale had yet died as a result of Sunset’s action.

It was yet possible that nobody would die as a result of Sunset’s actions. If the warning had reached Vale in time, if precautions had been taken, if the Atlesians were as good as they always said they were, if Sunset and her teammates assisted in the defence, it was possible – perhaps even likely – that nobody might die as a result of what she had done.

It was possible, perhaps even likely, that Sunset might win the game. She might yet be able to snap her fingers at the dead of Mountain Glenn and all their ominous prophecies, she might yet be able to scoff at Professor Ozpin and his talk of the necessity of sacrifice, she might yet be able to make good all her boasting and have all things as she desired and reject utterly the need to sacrifice anything, let alone everything.

It was possible, perhaps even likely, that Sunset would have no cause to regret this in the days ahead, no cause at all.

“Besides,” she added, “while she was gloating about detonating the mine-”

“You spoke to her?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes,” Sunset acknowledged. “She told me that she’d sealed off the emergency exits we were going to use.”

“And you believe her?” asked Blake. “If she’s lying or mistaken, then we lead some of the grimm away from Vale, like I did in the Emerald Forest; if there’s a chance-”

“I think Sunset’s right,” Jaune interrupted her. “Even if – and I hope to God it happened – Twilight was able to warn Vale of what was coming, everyone who saw that explosion is going to panic, and that panic is going to draw the grimm a whole lot more than anything the seven of us might feel.”

Pyrrha nodded. “That being the case, our duty is to assist in the defence of Vale however we can, not to squat amidst the ruins of Mountain Glenn or the wilds beyond, waiting for an airship to be diverted from the crisis to assist us.”

“It was our job to stop this from happening,” Ruby said. “We failed.”

“We haven’t-” Sunset began.

“We failed,” Ruby insisted. “We came to Mountain Glenn to stop whatever Cinder was planning. Instead, she’s done it all in spite of us; we haven’t stopped anything.”

Sunset glanced at Rainbow Dash, profoundly grateful for the other girl’s silence, even more than for her understanding. She could have stood it if Rainbow had hated her for what she’d done; she preferred it otherwise, but she was used to Rainbow Dash hating her, and for less reason than she’d given her just now. But Ruby… if Ruby knew what she had done, there would be no understanding. No understanding and no forgiveness.

If Ruby knew what she had done… best not think about that. If everything went right, if Sunset won all, then she wouldn’t need to think about it, ever again.

And if everything did not go right…

Six lives will justify my works.

Wherefore should they die so that faceless men in Vale unknown to me should live?

Wherefore should I price other lives as dear as those who are most dear to me?

She can never know.

“The least we can do,” Ruby went on, “is not leave our friends back in Vale to fight this alone. They shouldn’t have to risk the consequences of what we did or didn’t do without us.”

“Then we’re agreed?” Sunset said. “We stop the train, we block the tunnel, and then we move down the tunnel until we reach the end?” She glanced at Jaune. “Do you have enough aura to boost Pyrrha so that she can move the train?”

“I think so,” Jaune said.

“You think so?” Sunset demanded.

“Yes,” Jaune replied, more confidently this time.

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked. “Because if not-“

“I’ve got enough,” Jaune insisted.

“If your aura breaks down here-”

“Then the grimm won’t be able to get me because you’ll have blocked the tunnel, remember?” Jaune said to her, venturing a smile.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha began.

“I’ll be fine, Pyrrha,” Jaune said to her softly, but firmly too.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she put on a smile which Sunset thought was at least somewhat forced. “Of course you will,” she declared.

“So we’re all agreed?” Sunset asked. “And we’re all ready?”

“Ah’m ready,” Applejack said. “Ain’t much sense in waitin’ around; we might as well get ‘er done.”

“I’m ready,” Rainbow said quietly. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m ready too,” Ruby declared.

“And so am I,” added Jaune.

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “And I, too.”

Blake remained silent.

“Blake?” Sunset prompted.

Blake bowed her head, looking down at the metal floor beneath their feet. Silently, she reloaded Gambol Shroud. “I’m… Applejack’s right; if we’re going to do this, let’s do it.”

“Okay,” Sunset agreed. “Once the train stops, I’ll get up onto the roof and make them keep their heads down with my magic-”

“With your what?” Applejack gasped.

“Oh, right, you don’t know, do you?” Sunset muttered. “Rainbow can explain it to you later. Right now, the point is that I’ll make them keep their heads down while the rest of you get out. Once Pyrrha starts to do her thing, then I’ll get down before I get thrown off or slammed into the roof or something. Once the tunnel is blocked, Ruby, you’ll take point with Blake, then Applejack, then Jaune and Pyrrha, then Rainbow, you and me are the rearguard.”

“You got it,” Rainbow said.

“Jaune,” Sunset said, “can I have Soteria back for a bit? I might need it. You can borrow it again when we get outside.”

And wouldn’t that feel great? They might be fighting for the life of Vale in the middle of Vale, but at least they would be doing it under the light of the sun.

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said, handing the black sword back to her. “It’s… a little heavier than I’m used to.”

That wasn’t surprising, Sunset thought, considering that it was a two-handed sword against his old one-handed blade. The fact that he’d been able to get any use out of it at all was a testament to his strength and a minor miracle.

“Thanks,” Sunset said softly as she sheathed the sword across her back. She took a breath. “Well then,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Rainbow crossed the cab in a succession of swift strides and slammed her palm down on the ‘EMERGENCY BRAKE’ button.

Sunset had expected… more emergency. A sudden, jolting stop, possibly something that would toss them across the cabin. Instead, the train began to slow, the mile-devouring pace of its progress down the rails easing off, the loud, ferocious growling of the engine softening – which unfortunately did nothing to still the loud, ferocious growling of the grimm – the screech of the wheels upon the rails becoming less frantic.

It was… a little bit of an anticlimax, to tell the truth.

Sunset supposed that the train had been going too fast for a sharp stop; the speed it had been set to was not healthy, and the jolt that threw across the cabin would have been less healthy still.

It was probably for the best that it was happening like this.

It did give the White Fang time to notice what was going on. The ineffectual gunfire lessened, and shouts of alarm echoed down the tunnel from further down towards the back of the train.

They knew what the huntsmen had done, and they seemed a little less than keen on the idea.

Considering what was coming up behind them, Sunset could understand why.

“I think that’s my cue,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha, shout me when you’re ready to start the lift. I mean, I shall probably feel it anyway, but-”

“I will call you,” Pyrrha promised.

Sunset smiled tightly. “Right. Thanks.” She left the cab, gripping the black metal ladder leading up onto the roof of the engine. Even through her gloves, she could feel the coldness of the metal as she climbed up, her boots rattling upon the rails as she ascended.

Bullets whipped past her as she gained the roof. Sunset raised one hand and cast a bolt of magic blindly behind her as the air from the moving train whipped past her face and through her hair. Not as violently as it had done, though; the train might be slowing gradually, but gradual didn’t have to mean slow; the speed of the train was reducing as quickly as it safely could.

Sunset turned around, wrapping her tail around one leg – the alternative was that it got blown out between her legs, which Sunset was not keen on the look of – as she swayed slightly upon the moving train, her feet in constant minute motions to keep her balance as the train juddered this way and that.

The nightvision spell on her eyes allowed her to see a modicum within the darkness of the unlit tunnel; it allowed her to see the White Fang, the fighters and the Paladins that remained to them, beginning to advance once more – was it still once more if they were advancing in the opposite direction to the one they had been going before?

Either way, it was clear that they realised that, faced with the imminent halt of the train, they could no longer rely on idle fire at an enemy they could not even see.

However much fear Pyrrha had put in them, the fear of their train stopping and leaving them trapped down here in the tunnel was stronger.

Sunset raised her hands, and as the train slowed down beneath her feet, beams of green magic leapt from her fingertips, weaker than those she might have blasted from her palms, but she was able to keep them up more rapidly. They flew from her fingers like rounds from an automatic, spraying out wildly, some flying true and others arcing like arrows in flight to land upon the train roof with miniature explosions.

Some of her magic struck home, knocking White Fang fighters clean off the train, or else simply flat onto their backs, where some of them rolled off the train anyway. She didn’t know if she was killing them, or if the train was…

Let’s be honest here, if they survive the fall, they won’t survive the grimm. You’re killing these people.

They won’t survive the grimm anyway. The only thing I could do that wouldn’t kill them is let them enter Vale.

There was no room for moral qualm about this. They had brought this on themselves. It was them or Sunset’s friends. Of all the lives put at risk today, these people were the least deserving to survive.

But Sunset bit her lip all the same.

Perhaps that was why the bulk of her magic was not very well aimed, intended more to keep the heads of the White Fang down than to hit them and throw them to their fate. Her magic, unaimed though it was, nevertheless sent them scattering; they ceased to fire or to advance as they kept hopping, retreating in the face of fire specifically placed to encourage them to retreat.

It helped, as the train slowed, that more and more of the White Fang turned their fire away from Sunset – away from the direction of the huntsmen more generally – and began to face to their rear, to where the mass of grimm must surely be gaining on them now; when the train had been thundering along, it had nevertheless failed to increase the distance between itself and the monsters; how would it be keeping them at bay now that its speed was dropping so much, and so quickly?

Judging by the numbers of White Fang – and even the Paladins, which would withstand Sunset’s magic and should have pressed forward – turning their attention towards the grimm behind rather than the huntresses in front – they were very definitely gaining.

Sunset swallowed, and as she fired off magic into the darkness, she tried not to think about all those bone masks, all those red eyes gleaming in the blackness like a burning forest, tried not to think about all those teeth and claws so eager to rend and tear and kill-

I’m not supposed to be thinking about it!

The train stopped. Sunset kept up her barrage to encourage the White Fang to keep focussing on the problems behind them instead of in front.

She heard footsteps beneath her and imagined her friends leaving the train as she kept casting. She heard a sound like metal being sheared through and guessed that someone had severed the engine’s connection to the cars behind.

“Hey, Applejack, look at this!” Rainbow said.

Sunset kept casting.

“Looks pretty good for something that’s been lying down here for years, don’t it?”

Sunset kept casting.

“Do you think you can get it working again?” Rainbow asked.

“What are you two playing at down there?” Sunset yelled down from the roof of the cab as she kept casting.

She felt the engine shift beneath her feet just as Pyrrha called out, “Sunset, I’m starting now.”

Sunset turned her back on the White Fang and threw herself off the train – it was a little dark to teleport; she might have ended up trying to occupy the same space as someone else. Instead, she jumped with the golden light of Jaune’s semblance to guide her as it spread up and down Pyrrha where she stood, both arms outstretched, looking like some sort of gilded goddess, like a statue in an old Mistralian temple, polished by the priests who cared for her.

With Pyrrha’s light – Jaune’s light, she supposed, but it was illuminating Pyrrha as the sun’s light illuminates the beauty of the world – to guide her, Sunset leapt and managed to land with at least some of her dignity intact, even if she did land on her knees as much as on her feet.

Pyrrha’s arms were out before her, spread out a little, and through the golden light of Jaune’s semblance, Sunset could just make out the black outlines of Pyrrha’s semblance around her arms, coating the brown of her gloves and the gilded metal of her vambrace.

Nor was that black outline confined to Pyrrha’s arms. With Jaune’s help, the grip of her semblance had spread across the train, coating it, engulfing it, and as Sunset watched, the engine was lifted from its berth upon the rails.

It was not raised much, just a few inches into the air, but it was enough. Pyrrha stared at the train, her green eyes narrow with concentration, and as she stared, the train began to pivot upon its centre, the front swinging away from the huntresses even as the back began to hove into view.

And as the engine turned, so too did it roll in the air upon its side, as though it were a model train that some avid collector was turning over in their hands for their inspection.

Front and back of the engine, longer than the tunnel was wide, slammed into the black, rounded walls of the tunnel itself. Dust and chips of concrete fell down upon the heads of Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune as Pyrrha pushed the tunnel wall, digging the train into the concrete on either side, wedging the engine in place before pushing it down as she had lifted it up, cutting off the gap between the tunnel floor and the obstacle they had erected.

Nothing could get past the engine. Nor could they see anything that was going on behind the engine. They could only hear the sounds of gunfire and the growling of the grimm.

The golden light died as Jaune pulled his hand away – only to place both hands, unadorned by any light, back upon Pyrrha’s arms as she sagged forward.

“I’m fine,” she said, pre-empting his question. “Just… unused to that kind of scale.”

“You did a good job,” Sunset assured her. “Both of you.”

Pyrrha looked over her shoulder. “And are you alright, Jaune? How much aura do you have left?”

“Enough,” he said. “I’ll get by.”

Pyrrha opened her mouth and might have said something about what did or did not constitute 'enough,' but Sunset forestalled her. “With luck, you won’t need to use any more of it for a while. However, we ought to get moving and not tempt fate!” she added, her voice turning into a sharp squawk as she stalked past Pyrrha and Jaune to see what Rainbow and Applejack – and Ruby! – were wasting their time on.

She had to admit, when she actually stopped to look at it, she could see why it had them fascinated. They had found a service truck, a vehicle designed to run along the road that ran parallel to the railway lines, where maintenance workers could zip up and down the tunnel, responding to any emergency or issue that might arise. Because the road was narrow, this particular vehicle – and others like it, presumably – had two fronts, with a cab at each end and a longish middle section for carrying tools or parts of whatever, so that it could be driven in either direction without ever needing to turn around.

It had once been painted in what looked like livery colours of red, gold, silver, and white, but time – even time in this dark and musty tunnel – had worn away the façade, and rust was starting to creep through above the wheels.

Rainbow, Applejack, and Ruby had the bonnet open of the head facing down the tunnel the way they wished to go, muttering to themselves.

It was clear now what they intended, but all the same, Sunset declared, “We don’t have time for this.”

Rainbow turned to look at her. “If we can get it to work again, we’ll get to Vale that much faster.”

“Can you get it to work again?” Sunset demanded. “Because if not you’re just wasting time.”

“We don’t think there’s anything actually wrong with it,” Ruby said. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so it’s a bit stiff, but we can’t see any problems.”

“Can you see properly?” Sunset asked.

Ruby let out a nervous laugh. “Not that well.”

Sunset gestured for them to make room as she, with her magically enhanced eyes, closed the distance with the silent machine. Rainbow had a point; if they could get the vehicle working, it would save them having to try and outrun the grimm; on the other hand, if they stayed too long trying to get it working, then they would have only lost their chance to escape the grimm.

She looked down at the engine. She wasn’t an expert, but she had been forced to learn a bit about how they worked in order to put one together, and… yeah, Ruby had a point; there wasn’t anything obviously wrong with it.

“Give it a jump start,” she said. “If it doesn’t go, then we run. We don’t have time to give it a lot of work.”

Applejack stuck her hand inside the engine, grunting as she felt around the pipes and wires for what she was actually looking for, which was the main dust converter which, as the name suggested, converted the combustion dust into the energy needed to power the vehicle.

There was a pause, and then Applejack must have let out a pulse of aura to ignite the dust, because the engine on the vehicle purred to life, vibrating slightly as it woke after its long slumber.

“Hoo-ee!” Applejack cried. “Now we’re cookin’! Get in, everybody! Ah’ll drive.”

“You and me will take the rear cab,” Sunset said, to which Rainbow nodded assent. “Everyone else, in the middle.” The mid-section of the vehicle had been intended for storage, and it might be a little cramped, but they would fit nevertheless, and it would be better than running by far.

Applejack got in the front-facing cab, with Winona occupying the other seat by her side. As Rainbow got in the rear cab, Sunset watched as Ruby, Jaune, and Pyrrha squeezed themselves into the middle section. Pyrrha ended up sitting on Jaune’s lap to leave room for Blake, but Sunset doubted that she minded that, even if she’d never say one way or the other.

That just left Blake, standing outside, looking at the engine, giving no sign that she intended to embark.

“Blake!” Sunset yelled.

Blake didn’t move. She stood still, seeming frozen, paralysed, staring at the engine that Pyrrha had placed to cut off the grimm… and all the White Fang too.

The White Fang who were dying on the other side.

There was still the sound of gunfire coming from the other side of the engine, but that fire was lessening, being drowned out by the roaring and the snarling of the grimm but replaced with other sounds too, with banging on metal, with begging and pleading. The White Fang fought, but they also cried out in panic as the horde fell upon them; they hammered on the metal and pleaded for release; they screamed ‘help us!’ One member of the White Fang, his mask discarded, managed to get up onto the side of the overturned engine, only for something to grab his legs and start to haul him backwards. He cried out in pain and terror, he grabbed at the side of the engine and tried to hold on, but with a final scream, he was dragged back into the darkness on the other side, and there, he screamed no more.

“Blake!” Sunset yelled again as she ran to Blake’s side. “Blake, we have to go!”

A beowolf poked its head up over the top of the engine. Sunset killed it with a burst of magic and was grateful that more didn’t seem to be following.

“Blake!” Sunset shouted, grabbing Blake by the wrist.

Blake started, looking at Sunset with golden eyes wide with shock. “I… I can’t save them,” she murmured, as the White Fang cried and screamed and died on the other side of the engine barricade. “I can’t save them.”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But you can save so many others in the future if you come on! Blake, we have to go!”

Blake didn’t say anything, but she didn’t resist as Sunset dragged her to the waiting vehicle and helped bundle her inside with Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby.

That done, Sunset threw herself into the rear cab with Rainbow Dash, who had already kicked out the windscreen while Sunset had been with Blake.

“Hit it, Applejack!” Rainbow shouted.

The engine coughed, it whined, it spluttered for a moment, and then it roared to life as the truck shot forwards, accelerating with a speed Sunset wouldn’t have expected from a maintenance van – maybe they’d wanted to respond quickly to emergencies – down the narrow road which ran alongside the rails.

There was no steering, there was no swerving, there was only moving straight ahead, and Sunset had the impression that Applejack had her foot jammed on the accelerator because this thing was starting to really move.

The engine disappeared into the darkness, falling away behind them, and as it fell away, so too did the screams and the pleading and the last few desperate and defiant shots of the White Fang.

Sunset wished that she could have believed that they were simply moving out of earshot. But sounds echoed in this tunnel, sounds like the continued howling and growling of the grimm, sounds like the hammering upon the engine as the creatures pounded upon it, desperate to move it or to tear their way through it.

“It’s not going to hold, is it?” she asked.

Rainbow was busy reloading her submachine guns. “Against that many grimm? Probably not, if they’re determined to make it through. But it’ll buy us some time, and what buys us time buys Vale time too.” She paused for a moment. “You know, they probably have time to collapse the entrance and seal off the breach that… that was made,” she said, with a glance towards the cab wall, as if she were concerned about how thin it was.

And it will have been for nothing, Sunset thought. Everyone will die down here regardless. I won’t have saved anyone. “Do you… think they will?. Do that, I mean, collapse the breach?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “The General will be surprised that the White Fang aren’t attacking immediately, but he won’t want to risk the lives of the engineers by putting them on the front line when the White Fang do attack. He’ll wait. I don’t think he’ll even recon down the tunnel; he’ll prefer to wait and let the enemy come out where we can use our air support.”

“That’s… cautious.”

“It’ll save lives,” Rainbow replied. “Not just ours, but our soldiers too.”

“And Vale?” Sunset asked.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “We can defeat grimm under the sun better than we can down here. Like I said, we can use our air support.” She looked at Sunset. “You think that I’m an idiot, and, well, you’re not entirely wrong, but I understand about picking your battles where you can. We’ve got the bombs, and we’ve got the rockets, so we might as well fight where we can actually use our bombs and rockets, instead of sending men down here.”

“What about sending robots?”

“The robots still work better with the bombs and rockets,” Rainbow pointed out. Her ears twitched. “Do you hear that?”

Sunset listened. “I don’t hear anything but this truck.”

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “What happened to the grimm?”

Sunset blinked. Rainbow was right; the grimm had stopped. They had fallen silent, completely and absolutely, with not a sound remaining but the engine of their getaway car.

Until the darkness flared with a sudden explosion, the brilliant light burning briefly, but long enough to illuminate the engine exploding as it was torn apart, and something striding through the flames.

Sunset’s eyes widened. “What… what was that?”

The tunnel began to shake, dust falling from the ceiling, as the thing that had destroyed their barricade strode after them with an earth trembling tread.

A tread that was growing faster by the moment, shaking the world around them more rapidly and more powerfully as it pursued the huntsmen.

Rainbow pointed both her submachine guns out the empty windscreen frame and began to blaze away, her muzzle flashes half-blinding Sunset’s night vision. “Applejack, we could do with going a little faster,” Rainbow shouted.

“Ah’m going as fast as Ah can!” Applejack called back from up front.

Rainbow growled wordlessly and kept on firing, rounds leaping from both guns as she held down the triggers, pressing on them until there were no more bullets left.

Then, as the muzzle flashes ceased to blind her, Sunset could see what came after them with such a powerful swift step.

It was big. It was too big, really, to fight inside this tunnel; it was hunching its back and shoulders in order not scrape away the ceiling – not that it presumably cared too much except for the risk of bringing down the tunnel and blocking the way for the other grimm who, Sunset couldn’t help but notice, were giving this big guy a lot of space.

It was tall enough already, and taller still if it could have reached its full height, she was sure. Its body was humanoid, at least as far as Sunset could tell, because the creature seemed to be wreathed in shadow proof against her eyes, even when magically enhanced. But it had two legs and two arms, although calling it 'humanoid'… maybe she ought to say that it was like a minotaur, for it had a pair of horns jutting out on either side of its bone mask, curving like a rams to come to a point just beyond its jaw. Its mask was flat and reptilian, with narrow slits for nostrils and a narrow, sharp mouth like a crocodile and eyes that burned in the darkness below ground. Its forelegs and forearms were armoured in bone greaves and vambraces, and from those bulky vambraces of bone protruded four great spikes pointing forwards like spears or arrows or harpoons. Its wings were spread from wall to wall.

Rainbow was reloading again, but it seemed almost funny to think that her small calibre rounds would do anything against so large and powerful a grimm.

Sunset held up her hand, concentrating power within her palm as it began to glow. She was under no illusions that her average magical blast would do much against something this size either, but if she concentrated her power in one hit, if she poured it on, then maybe-

The grimm roared, and its roar echoed down the tunnel like the blowing of a great wind, and as it roared, it thrust out its right hand, and one of the spear like spikes that jutted from its forearm leapt out upon a chain of bone and flew straight and true right for their vehicle.

“Applejack-!” Rainbow yelled, but whatever she might have been about to tell Applejack to do was lost as the spear and the chain flew into the cab between Rainbow and Sunset and punched through the thin metal wall into the central section behind. Sunset heard everyone cry out in alarm, heard Pyrrha let out what sounded like a cry of pain, and then the bone chain grew taut and then it became impossible to think about anything as their car was wrenched up off the service road and pulled through the air.

Everyone shouted as the grimm yanked on its chain and hauled upon them like their car was a conker on a string, slamming it into the far tunnel wall. Neither Sunset nor Rainbow were wearing seatbelts, and Sunset’s aura flared in her defence as she was shaken left and right, slamming into Rainbow Dash, slamming in the door as it slammed into the wall, slamming into the ceiling which became the roof as they were hurled back down to the ground, landing between the rails as the ceiling crumble and fractured metal scattered across the floor.

Sunset lay for a moment, on her head and hands, breathing in deeply in between groans of pain, before she began to crawl out of the cab. Her aura wasn’t broken, but that didn’t stop her feeling the pain in her head and ears, didn’t stop her mind from feeling clouded by what had just happened to her, didn’t stop her body protesting its mistreatment in the strongest possible terms.

A cry of alarm from Pyrrha roused Sunset’s mind from torpor as she saw her friend being dragged across the ground by the bone chain wrapped around one leg. Pyrrha summoned Miló into her hand, transformed the weapon into rifle mode and fired twice, hitting the bones just beyond her foot, but the great grimm took as much notice as Pyrrha would of flies; it just dragged her towards it until it lifted her up off the ground so violently that Miló fell from her hands as Pyrrha was thrown up into the air, hair askew and arms spread out around her – before the grimm caught her in one hand as large as she was, enclosing three fingers thicker than her waistline around her, trapping her in its grip with her arms pinned by her sides.

She squirmed and struggled futilely in its grasp.

Sunset began to run, surging to her feet as she dashed forwards. No, she would not allow this to happen. Pyrrha would not die, not here, not now, not in this fell place. None of them would die, but certainly not Pyrrha. Not Pyrrha, not here, the Evenstar could not die in darkness.

Sunset teleported up onto the creature’s hand, and as she perched upon those dark, fat fingers, she drew Soteria forth, and with the blade that had been entrusted to her by the Nikos family, she hewed at the fingers that held the Nikos heir bound and sought to squeeze the life from her.

Rainbow flew around the creature's face, her own wings as unfurled even as the creature’s were, her bullets slamming into its bony face as she sought to distract the beast. Jaune ran towards it, screaming incoherently, wielding his shield in two hands like a club. And as Blake, Ruby, and Applejack emerged from the wreckage, they all started shooting, from the high crackle of Gambol Shroud to the roar of Crescent Rose.

But this grimm was the equal of all of them. With one disdainful, almost casual backhand, it swatted Rainbow Dash aside, throwing her into the tunnel wall with a thump and a crash. The spears on its left hand, the harpoons on their chains of bone, lashed out to knock Applejack and Blake off their feet and send them scrambling. And another snaked back out from its right hand to skewer Sunset as she strove to cut Pyrrha free, first slamming into her cuirass and knocking her from her perch and then grabbing her, wrapping its bone around her waist and slamming her into the ground hard enough to crack it beneath her.

Then it lifted her back up into the air as the bone wrapped itself around her, embracing her waist and neck, gripping her tight even as it hauled her up until she was only a little higher than Pyrrha.

It wanted them to look at each other. It wanted them to see the fear in one another’s eyes as it squeezed the life out of them.

And Sunset could see the fear. As the bone chain squeezed her tighter, as it sought to crush her throat and body, all that she could think about was the fear in Pyrrha’s green eyes as she struggled in vain, and as the creature’s grip grew tighter around her.

No, Sunset thought. No, please. This… this is not meant to be. I was meant to save you. I made a promise!

But the hand squeezed, and bone squeezed, and the eyes of the champion of Mistral were filled with fear, the fear of one who did not wish to die.

And there was nothing Sunset could do to save her.

The grimm squeezed them both tight, crushing their auras as it soon would crush their bones.

And there was nothing Sunset could do to save them.

Nothing she could do.

The grimm squeezed.

Ruby screamed.

And then there was nothing but light.

They were going to die.

Pyrrha and Sunset, they were both going to die.

And there was nothing that Ruby could do about it.

The fire of Crescent Rose wasn’t having any effect, any more than Blake’s shooting or Applejack’s or Rainbow Dash’s. She could try attacking with her scythe, but the grimm was so well armoured on its legs, that probably wouldn’t do anything. Sunset had tried slashing at its hands, and that hadn’t seemed to bother it at all.

And now it had Sunset too. It had Sunset and Pyrrha, and it was squeezing them so tight their auras couldn’t possibly last much longer.

They were going to die.

"For what are we here for, save to place our bodies between humanity and the dark?"

That isn’t what I meant. This isn’t what I wanted.

I don’t want to lose you.

But she would. She would lose them both.

And she could only watch as the grimm squeezed them with all its hideous strength.

And as it squeezed, and as Ruby watched, images flashed to the forefront of her mind.

She and Sunset foiling that robbery together and almost capturing Torchwick by themselves.

Pyrrha running to help her after she accidentally caused that dust explosion and defending her from Weiss.

Carving their initials onto the dorm room wall.

Sunset shielding her from prying eyes in the locker room.

She and Pyrrha running into Penny together.

All of it would be lost, every moment… turned to ashes.

No. No. “NO!”

Ruby screamed, the word torn from her lips, and as it was ripped out of her, so too she felt something else being pulled forth, something rising from out of the depths of her soul, like a sword, a shining silver sword, drawn from the stone of her ignorance.

Her eyes burned; she threw back her head as wings of light erupted from her eyes, spreading out across the tunnel, engulfing the entire tunnel and driving off the darkness, covering everything in a blinding, brilliant brightness.

And as the whole world turned white around her, Ruby thought she could hear her mother singing.

And then the light faded, and Ruby Rose fell into darkness.

Sunset opened her eyes. She was no longer being constricted, and neither was Pyrrha. They were bound, but the grip of that which bound them grew no tighter for the simple reason that that which bound them was now turned to stone.

Where a moment ago, a grimm had stood, snarling with ferocity, now, there was only the stone statue of a grimm, still snarling, but about as ferocious as the average gargoyle.

It was still holding Sunset and Pyrrha, but it was no longer about to crush them in its grasp.

Sunset didn’t know if it was dead or whether the change was impermanent.

She didn’t intend to wait around and find out.

Her hands glowed, and as they glowed, a spear of magic appeared above her head, swelling, growing brighter as it pointed straight at the stone grimm’s face.

Sunset poured her magic into it, focussing her power, strengthening far beyond her ordinary magical missiles, so that it was as a ballista bolt compared to their arrows or javelins.

After all, it was a stone target she was aiming at now.

Sunset unleashed the missile, which descended like a thunderbolt upon the grimm, striking the statue’s face and shattering it in a great explosion that showered Sunset with stony shards.

For a moment, the stone grimm remained, headless. Then, piece by piece, slowly at first but then with increasing speed, it began to crumble.

The stones holding Sunset fell away, and Sunset fell with them, using telekinesis on herself to ensure that she landed on her feet.

Pyrrha fell too, and while she did not land on her feet, she did manage to land in the outstretched arms of Jaune Arc, who gathered her close to him in an embrace that was no less tender for its tightness.

“Are you okay?” he asked

Pyrrha leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. “I am now,” she said.

Jaune kissed her on the forehead. “I… I’m glad,” he whispered. He glanced at Sunset. “I’m glad,” he repeated.

Sunset jogged over to them, wrapping her arms around them both in a hug that was no less warm for being swift. “I’m glad too,” she agreed. “For a moment, I thought that…”

“For a moment,” Pyrrha said gently as Jaune set her down upon her feet once more, “so did I.”

“You’re not allowed to die before I am, Pyrrha, I told you that already,” Sunset informed her. “Ruby, was that your silver eyes? How did you- Ruby!” Sunset yelled, as she saw Ruby lying on the ground, with Blake kneeling by her side.

She ran to her, and Pyrrha and Jaune ran after her; they all ran until they stood over and around Ruby.

Ruby lay upon the ground, her eyes closed, her arms out by her sides. She looked as though she was sleeping, not in pain but rather at peace, without a trouble in the world.

“Ruby?” Sunset called as she knelt on the opposite side of her to Blake. “Ruby!”

“She won’t wake up,” Blake said anxiously.

“Did her aura break?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t think so,” Sunset said. “Why would silver eyes break her own aura?”

“Why would they put her in a coma?” Jaune replied. “Don’t you know what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t; it’s not the same magic; I don’t-” Sunset stopped as the sound of the grimm howling echoed down the tunnel towards them. It seemed louder now, as if they knew already of the death of their great champion and were sent into paroxysms of rage by the fact.

“I think we need to go,” Rainbow said.

“I think you’re right,” Sunset muttered. “Jaune, can you carry Ruby?”

“Sure,” Jaune said, and he scooped her up tenderly in his arms. She looked small in his grasp, smaller than normal and more frail.

And yet, she has just achieved her greatest feat yet.

The roaring of the grimm grew closer already; there was no doubt that the horde was on the move again, and coming this way.

“Everybody,” Sunset said, “run!”

They ran. They kept Jaune, weaponless and carrying the helpless Ruby, at the forefront, with Sunset and Rainbow at the back and the rest in between. But they ran all the same, they ran with the grimm closing in behind them, they ran between the rains, they ran down the tunnel.

They ran past the wreckage of a prior stand, they ran through the carnage of an earlier slaughter, they ran past a derailed train and broken signs, they ran over bone and broken stone.

They ran, and the grimm ran after them.

They ran through the darkness.

And then they saw the light, the literal light at the end of the tunnel, the light of Vale.

They were almost home.

And the grimm were right behind them.

The Breach (Rewritten)

The Breach

They scrambled up the steep slope of rubble and debris, the detritus of the explosion that Sunset had caused and Rainbow had allowed to take place. They scrambled up, out of the darkness and into the light. They scrambled up, their boots slipping upon the loose stone. Sometimes, Sunset seemed to be less running and more crawling on her hands and knees. Jaune was struggling to carry Ruby, so both Pyrrha and Applejack helped him up, taking him by the arms and assisting him to stay upright and keep moving.

Blake kept looking behind her. Rainbow didn’t blame her – she kept looking back as well – but there was a look in Blake’s eyes as though she was hoping to see something other than the grimm tearing down the tunnel after them, like she was hoping to see some survivors from the White Fang, someone who had survived being trapped between the train and the hard place at the end.

Rainbow thought that was probably a lost cause, but she didn’t know how to say so to Blake without offending or upsetting her. Those faunus of the White Fang… she wouldn’t say that they deserved to die, but at the same time… they’d been willing to do some pretty awful things.

But all the same… she might have thought differently if Gilda had been on that train as well as Applejack.

Blake had known these people, fought beside them, she probably knew the names of at least some of them, and if she didn’t, she at least recognised the impulses that had brought them into the White Fang, that had led them to take up weapons against the humans who… well, Rainbow only had to think about the brand on Adam’s face; how many similar scars were hidden behind their masks?

The White Fang were in the wrong, but she could no longer deny that they had their reasons – some of them, anyway; Chrysalis could still rot in a hole for all Rainbow Dash cared, and she didn’t care how much of a hypocrite that made her. More important even than their reasons was the fact that they didn’t feel that they had any other options, and that… that wasn’t on them. That was on Atlas, that was on all four kingdoms, that was on the way the system was set up to make them feel like they had no options.

To make them feel like the only way you could get ahead in life was to luck into meeting General Ironwood’s goddaughter.

They had tried to fight for a better world; the fact that, to make a better world, they had been prepared to kill people who didn’t deserve to die meant they had to be stopped, but all the same… if Blake wanted to be sad they were dead, then Rainbow would not, could not, begrudge her that.

Even if it maybe wasn’t the healthiest thing she could be feeling.

There were willing hands ready to help them at the top of the slope, many willing hands: Blake’s team, Flash and his team, Bon Bon and Lyra and their team – what was this, a class reunion? – Sun and Neptune, Pyrrha’s friend Arslan, Captain Schnee, they were all waiting for them up at the top, and as the group scrambled up the slope and into the light, they reached out to help them the last few steps of the way.

“Blake!” Yang cried. “Sunset, Pyrrha, what are you- and where’s RUBY!?” she ran to her little sister’s side as she caught sight of her in Jaune’s arms. “Ruby? Ruby!? What happened to her, is she okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sunset said.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Yang demanded, her eyes flashing red.

“I mean what I just said, ‘I don’t know.’”

“Why don’t you know?” snapped Yang. “You’re her team leader and her partner; you’re supposed to take care of her!”

“I have taken better care of Ruby than you know!” Sunset snarled. “Now if you shut up and listen for a second, you’ll hear a whole mass of grimm coming down that tunnel behind us, so you’ll forgive me, but we don’t have the time, and I don’t have the inclination to be lectured by you on leadership!”

“Grimm?” Captain Schnee said sharply. “Dash, is that true? Grimm, not White Fang?”

Rainbow stood to attention. “The White Fang are dead in the tunnel, ma’am,” she said. “But their negativity attracted the grimm, and I guess… I guess the panic from the explosion has drawn them the rest of the way.”

“Grimm?” Ren repeated. “Grimm coming here, into the middle of Vale? That’s… that’s not possible.”

“H-how many?” Lyra asked, her voice trembling. “We’re only talking about a few, right?”

“It sounds like more than a few,” Dove said ominously.

“Crap,” Cardin growled. “How could you let this happen?”

“Cardin, calm down,” Weiss said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down; this isn’t your home!”

“Have the grimm ever gotten into the middle of a city before?” asked Arslan.

“If they had, there wouldn’t be a city there any more,” muttered Ren darkly.

“Quiet, everyone!” Captain Schnee commanded. “We need to inform General Ironwood; this changes a great deal.”

As she got out her scroll, Rainbow Dash looked up. She could see five cruisers in the air above them, all arrayed in a circle with their own location – some sort of city square, a fancy-looking outdoor-dining sort of place, the kind of place where you paid through the nose to get a leaf and half a pork belly covered in vinegar, the kind of place Rarity aspired to be able to afford to eat at once she’d made it – in the centre, with the sharp noses of the warships all pointing in their direction. Smaller airships, the Skybolts and Skydarts, flitted around the larger vessels, flying in loops and circles as they maintained position nearby, waiting for something – anything – to happen that would put them to work.

She couldn’t see the ground troops, but she had no doubt that they were close by.

Despite the worry that the news had sewn in the other students… it was going to be okay. Twilight had obviously gotten back safely – and with luck, Penny and Ciel had also gotten back safe too – and warned the General of what was coming. He had been warned, he had worked out where they were likely to come up, and he had gotten a welcome reception ready.

It didn’t matter if it was grimm coming up that tunnel, not the White Fang; it didn’t matter how many grimm there were. The fleet was ready; just seeing those ships up there, massive, powerful, inviolate… they were the pride of Atlas, the embodiment of northern strength and greatness rendered in metal. Like the military itself, they might be a little cumbersome and ungainly, but they could take the hits, and they could dish them out again ten times harder. Just looking at them made her heart soar up to meet them in the sky.

Vale would not fall, not while these ships and all the power and all the brave men and women they could deploy defended it.

Vale would not fall, in spite of what Sunset had done.

In spite of what Rainbow had seen her do and helped her to conceal.

She maybe shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t what a true white Atlesian hero would have done. Such a hero would have put Sunset under arrest for… okay, no, a true hero would have stopped Sunset from doing it in the first place.

But gods help her, she couldn’t blame Sunset for her actions. In her head, she knew that it was wrong; she knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, would have been to break that stupid trigger and take their chances in the tunnels, and if they died, then they died knowing that Vale would live. That was… that was the huntsman thing to do, the Atlesian thing to do; that was the spirit of Appleoosa.

By our sacrifice shall the city prosper and our enemies fail.

She knew that in her head, she knew that from the lessons which she had too been paying attention to, no matter what Sunset or anyone else had to say about it; she knew that in her head because it had been taught into her head, but in her heart…

Applejack had been on the train.

That hadn’t been part of Rainbow’s plan, and maybe if Applejack hadn’t been so mule stubborn about it and had just gone back like Rainbow had wanted her to, then she, the last member of Team RSPT aboard the train, would have reacted differently.

Or maybe not, because Blake had been on the train as well and would have still been on the train even if Applejack wasn’t. And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t fond of Team SAPR either, and even more than any affection she felt for them was knowing what Penny felt for them and…

Friendship was a strength. Rainbow Dash believed that, with all her heart; it was what kept you fighting in the face of death, it was what stopped you running when you heard the beowolves howl: the fact that standing beside you was someone you cared about and they weren’t going to run, so you had to stand to and face it alongside them; the fact that behind you was somebody you cared about who was depending on you to protect them and so you had to face whatever was coming and you had to beat it for their sake.

Friendship was a strength, but at the same time, on that train, it had almost felt like a spider’s web, catching Rainbow in place and… no, no it was more like strings pulling at her. Or both, she was both being caught and being pulled at the same time.

Which was probably how Sunset had felt, Cinder or no Cinder – Cinder chatting away on the other end of the speakers in that oh-so-reasonable tone definitely hadn’t helped, but Rainbow thought that Sunset would have probably made the same decision if she’d gotten a text.

Because Rainbow might have made the same decision.

Rainbow Dash was willing to die; she was willing to go with her friends – some of them, the ones that could handle it – into desperate and dangerous situations, but this… to push a button, or not push a button, and say, yeah, there is a hundred percent chance that you will die, and I’m okay with that? That was something else. That was something they didn’t teach you in the first year at the academies; that was… that was a hard choice, and even if the head knew there was a right answer, if only because of how much was at stake, the heart…

Applejack’s parents were dead. She had a little sister she was half a mother to; she had a big brother who kept the family farm going while Applejack was away and who was currently practicing a never-before-seen form of wordless courtship with Sugar Belle, the girl who owned the bakery in town; and she had a grandma who had used to work in the cafeteria at the combat school but who was struggling to get around so much these days.

Applejack’s parents might be dead, but she had a family who loved her so much; Rainbow had gone on camping trips with her and Apple Bloom – Applejack and Apple Bloom, Rarity and Sweetie Belle, Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo – she and the rest of their friends had helped the Apples out with the harvest and the cider press some times. She’d seen how much they loved her, how much Applejack meant to them. It was one thing for Applejack to decide that she was willing to risk her life, and in normal circumstances, she could handle herself, but for Rainbow or for Sunset to decide ‘no, you’re going to die, and someone is going to have to go up to that farm and tell your little sister and your big brother and your old granny that they’re never going to see you again’… she didn’t have that in her. She didn’t have the right. She didn’t have the right to put Applejack’s picture up on These Are My Jewels any more than she had the right to shoot Applejack in the back of the head with her own hand and her own gun.

And Blake… okay Blake didn’t have a little sister or a big brother or an old granny who could barely walk without a metal frame no more, but she had two parents who probably loved her – in Rainbow’s experience, your parents would forgive an awful lot of supposedly unforgivable crap; she’d packed her parents off to Menagerie just to get them out of her life, and it hadn’t stopped them writing her letters and asking for like, collectables from her life – and she had Sun, who was also willing to put up with a lot of crap without seeming to let it bother him, and she had Rainbow Dash herself because she was Rainbow’s hope, and Rainbow… Rainbow couldn’t just snuff that out.

And Penny… how Penny would have reacted, when she could properly react again, if Ruby and Pyrrha had never come back from Mountain Glenn? It didn’t bear thinking about. Rainbow hadn’t been a good friend to Penny, but in as much as she’d been a friend at all, she was a good enough one not to put her through that.

Rainbow didn’t have the heart for it, any more than Sunset did, and whether that said good or bad things about their hearts, she didn’t know; she just knew that she didn’t have the heart for it.

And maybe that meant she wasn’t a true white Atlesian hero. Maybe General Ironwood would think she should have followed her head, and be upset, to put it mildly, that she had ended up following her heart, or at least allowing Sunset to follow her heart.

But she could live with that, because she’d get to help out at the cider pressing again and hear Applejack’s voice like molasses poured slowly into applesauce telling a story round the campfire and see everyone back at Sugarcube corner, together.

She could live with it, to see everything that Blake would become.

Maybe it would have been different if there had been no warning of what was coming, if she’d known that Vale was going to be taken by surprise… but it wasn’t. Twilight had gotten back with a warning, and it was clear that the General had everything in hand, even if he was expecting the White Fang.

And that was what she’d tell herself so she could sleep at night.

Vale would not fall.

And that meant she could live with it.

Speaking of the General, while Rainbow had been ruminating thus, Winter had gotten through to him on her scroll. “General, I’m at ground zero; Dash has just emerged from the tunnel, along with Apple and Team Sapphire.”

Rainbow emerged from her thoughts and came to attention. “Reporting, sir!”

“Good to hear your voice, Dash,” General Ironwood said, which didn’t comfort Rainbow as much as it might have; she could live with the choice that Sunset had made, but not knowing if General Ironwood would feel the same way… it was like having a frog shoved the back of her shirt, wet and slimy and wriggling up and down her back trying to get free. “What’s the word?”

“The White Fang aren’t the problem anymore, sir,” Rainbow said. “But a mess of grimm followed them down the tunnel, and now, they’re following us the rest of the way here. I think it could be a horde, sir.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Damn. Are they close?”

“We can hear them, sir,” Winter said.

“What’s your status?”

“Ruby’s down, sir,” Rainbow said. “The rest of us… we’re okay. Applejack’s here too.”

“Howdy, General.”

“Good to hear your voice too, Apple, but Dash, what do you mean that Miss Rose is down? Is she injured?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Rainbow admitted. “We were fighting a grimm, and her eyes did something-”

“Thank you, Miss Dash,” the voice that emerged out of the scroll was that of Professor Ozpin; the General must have patched him through. “James, can you please have one of your airships pick Miss Rose up and have her taken to Beacon?”

“Of course, Oz,” General Ironwood said. “Schnee, we’re out of position for facing grimm, and the evacuation isn’t complete yet. I need you to hold that breach while I redeploy our forces and get permission from the Valish council to use heavy ordinance to collapse the tunnel.”

“Understood, sir,” Winter said. “Consider it held.”

“I’ll drop androids to support you,” General Ironwood said. “Dash, I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through down there, but in light of what happened to Penny, I have to ask: do you have another fight left in you?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Rainbow said. It was, no matter her reasons and justifications, the least that she could do.

“Good, because Schnee could use your help,” General Ironwood said. “Now you’ll have to excuse me; I have to redeploy our units. Good luck, both of you. All of you.”

He hung up. Captain Schnee swiftly folded and put away her scroll.

“I trust you all heard all of that?” she said, her voice rising to address all the young huntsmen and huntresses present. “Then you all heard that I have been ordered to hold this position, to buy time for the evacuation and the movement of other units. I would welcome any assistance in that endeavour; however, you are not Atlesian soldiers – or soldiers of any kind – and you are not under my command. Therefore, custom and justice alike dictate that I give you the opportunity to withdraw. Choose quickly; I don’t believe there is much time left.”

The howling of the grimm was indeed very close now. Rainbow thought that it wouldn’t be long before they could see their bony faces or their red eyes burning in the dark.

Nobody said anything; but, as Yang looked at Ren and Nora, Weiss looked at Flash and Cardin and… that other little guy, Sun looked at Neptune… nobody made any move to go anywhere, either.

“Arslan,” Pyrrha said. “You don’t have to-”

“Neither do you,” Arslan pointed out. “But here you are.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said softly. “Here I am.”

Sunset let out a sigh. “Jaune,” she began, “maybe you should-”

“Don’t, Sunset,” Jaune cut her off. “Just… don’t.”

Rainbow looked at Blake; the look in her eyes told her not to even bother.

“Applejack?” she asked.

“Hell no,” Applejack declared. “Ah’m stayin’ right here.”

Winter nodded. “Very well,” she said, without a trace of approval or disapproval in her voice. “Then I want everyone who has a gun to form a line directly in front of that tunnel mouth.” She drew her sabre and used it to gesture imperiously towards the gaping hole from which they had just emerged. “The grimm cannot come at us any way but through that bottleneck, so we will fill it with fire so intense they cannot get within ten feet of the exit; those of you who do not have firearms will form a second line immediately behind the first, ready to move forward and engage at close quarters upon my command.

“Ready yourselves; this battle will be one you remember for the rest of your lives. One way or another.”

The grimm. Damn it! He had planned and deployed so as to be ready for the White Fang. It was a completely different battle his men would be called upon to fight now, against a completely different enemy.

And they were running out of time.

He would have pinched his brow in frustration, but it would have sent a terrible signal to the rest of the CIC.

“Sir?”

Ironwood looked over his shoulder. It was Twilight who had spoken. She had come up to the bridge to brief him on her preliminary findings with regards to Penny and had been there when Dash made contact. Now she was standing at something close to attention, looking up at him with more determination than he had thought to see in her lavender eyes.

He did her the courtesy of turning to face her. “What is it, Twilight?”

“I’d like permission to fly the airship to pick up Ruby, sir,” Twilight said. “And after that… I’d like to provide what support I can from the air.”

Ironwood looked down at her, casting his shadow over her. There were many good arguments against that, not least of which that Twilight wasn’t a professional pilot, but also that there were others – who were professional pilots – who could fly the airship, while only she could…

Well, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? A problem, if he was being honest with himself, that he probably should have done something about much sooner. It wasn’t as though the signs hadn’t been there.

It wasn’t the right time now, but… but there was a lot of determination in those eyes.

If he refused her, then… she might forgive him, but would she be able to forgive herself?

“Granted,” he said. “Take Miss Rose to Beacon and deliver her into the custody of Professor Ozpin. Then you can return to the hot zone and support the ground force as you feel best.” He hesitated. “Be careful out there.”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said. “And thank you, sir; you won’t regret this.” She saluted, hastily and sloppily, and turned and ran from the CIC, almost hitting the door before it slid open, and then disappearing through it with her swift footsteps echoing upon the metal deck.

I hope not, Ironwood thought as the door slid shut behind her.

He turned around to catch a slight smirk upon the face of Major Fitzjames.

Ironwood glowered at him. “Something amusing, Major?”

“No, sir, not at all,” Fitzjames said quickly. He paused for a moment. “Sometimes, General, I think you love your men more than God loves them.”

“Let’s hope not, for all our sakes,” Ironwood muttered. He raised his voice. “Move the Valiant directly over the breach facing parallel to the tunnel and prepare to drop Sledgehammer mortars on my command.”

“Aye aye, sir, moving forward,” Fitzjames said, his fingers flying over the helm controls. “Lieutenant Gore, Sledgehammers at the ready, all tubes.”

“All tubes, aye aye, sir.”

“And send out our Skygraspers; I want Knights dropped on that square immediately!” Ironwood commanded. “Des Voeux, signal the Gallant and Resolution to return to Vale immediately at best speed. Then patch me through to all ships of the First Squadron and our ground forces.”

“Aye aye, sir, sending the recall to Gallant. Recall sent. Patching you through now, sir.”

Ironwood cleared his throat. His plan to defeat the White Fang had been to let them emerge out into the open – that was why he had sent Winter into the square, to clear the children out of the way before the White Fang arrived, although it had turned out to be an unexpected stroke of good fortune that she hadn’t succeeded by the time Dash and the others emerged into the sunlight – where he could hit them from the air. Using fire from his cruisers and their supporting airships, he had planned to take out their stolen Paladins as they emerged, while raining missiles and machine gun fire down on the rest as they tried to push forward. By the time that they encountered his infantry, so his model went, they would have already suffered heavy losses, they would be bleeding momentum and morale and would be in no state to shift a determined defence. Then, after his men had gunned down more of their opponents and broken the back of the assault, he would order a counterattack and sweep up the rest of them, possibly deploying Knights to seize the square behind the White Fang and cut off their escape route.

It was true that no plan survived contact with the enemy, but he had had reason to expect that this plan would succeed more or less as he expected it to. Or at least he would have done, if he had been fighting the White Fang instead of the grimm. The same tactics didn’t apply against the grimm, who had neither momentum nor morale nor any sort of cohesion in the way that a human military – or even the White Fang – would understand it. Yes, they were as vulnerable – more – to air attack as men were, but you didn’t want to let the grimm get out, you didn’t want to let them go anywhere; they were faster than men and more agile than all but huntsmen, so you didn’t want to give them the chance to escape; there was no telling what damage they might do if they did. You wanted to keep them contained in as tight a perimeter as possible.

Plus, while they would probably attempt to exit via the breach that had been made for them at first, it was possible that, having progressed under Vale, they might try to break up into Vale at other points, clawing their way through the concrete and up into the city.

They hadn’t done that yet in the years since Mountain Glenn fell, which might be taken to suggest that it could not be done… or it might mean that there had been no incentive strong enough for the grimm to try it since, nothing drawing them down the tunnel, or at least not in such numbers.

It was a horde that they were facing now, and there was no telling what a horde might do.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I deployed your units and put your ships on standby in response to a possible attack by the White Fang; that threat has now dissipated. However, I’m afraid we can’t break out the champagne just yet, because we have a new threat to Vale to deal with: the grimm. First Battalion, I need all units to push forwards to the edges of Lost Valley Square and the buildings surrounding the plaza and hold there until the evacuations are complete. Hope and Thunder Child, you’re to remain in position for now and prepare to provide fire support against the grimm, but Endeavour and Glorious, I need you to position yourselves above the underground tunnel east of here and prepare to drop Sledgehammers; as soon as the Valish Council grants permission for deployment of heavy ordinance and as soon as all civilians are evacuated from the danger zone, we will collapse the tunnel via bombing. Is that understood?”

“First Battalion acknowledged, sir. Advancing now.”

“Glorious acknowledged.”

“Endeavour acknowledged.”

“Hope acknowledged.”

“Thunder Child acknowledged.”

“Good luck, everyone, and good hunting,” Ironwood said. “Ironwood out. Des Voeux, get me the Valish Council.”

“Yes, sir. Contacting now,” des Voeux said. He waited for a moment. “You’re through on audio, sir.”

“Councillors, this is General Ironwood,” Ironwood said. “I am afraid that the threat posed by the White Fang has been replaced by one posed by the creatures of grimm.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, persisting for so long that Ironwood started to wonder if he was, in fact, on the right line. Then he heard First Councillor Aris groan.

“Oh, God,” she said. “How many grimm?”

“Unknown, but probably substantial in number,” Ironwood admitted. “Councillors, I request permission to drop heavy ordinance over your city.”

“You want to bomb Vale?” Councillor Aspen Emerald demanded. “Are you mad?”

“I want to collapse the tunnel that the grimm are using to traverse under the city’s defences,” Ironwood replied.

“And destroy how many Valish homes in the process?!” Councillor Aspen yelled. “How many livelihoods ruined, how much property-?”

“Councillor, the number of homes destroyed and livelihoods ruined will be far less than if the grimm overrun Vale,” Ironwood interrupted him to point out.

“Then you can’t defeat them with conventional military force?” Councillor Leo Aquas asked.

“I’ll certainly try,” Ironwood said. “But depending on the numbers of the grimm, that may not be possible, and in any case, I would like to close off their invasion route against future incursions.”

“You ask a great deal of us, General,” Councillor Aris said. “I am afraid you must… give us time to discuss this matter.”

“I wouldn’t drop the bombs until the evacuation had been complete in any case, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood said.

“Then we will contact you once we have reached a decision,” Councillor Aris said.

“Thank you, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood said. “Ironwood out.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked out of the window as his ships began to redeploy at his order.

In some ways, the battle was about to pass out of his hands now. Yes, he could continue to issue orders in response to fresh information, he could direct his reserves of the Fourth Battalion, he issue corrections to the positions of his ships… but soon, those on the ground like Schnee and Dash would have far more power to affect the course of this action, and the fate of Vale itself, than he would.

He had to put his faith in them.

He did put his faith in them; they were as brave and resolute as he could hope for.

He hoped it would be enough.

“Twilight!”

Twilight stopped, one foot on the ramp leading up into The Bus, the other still placed upon the deck of the docking pad. She was clad in her armour now, not because she planned to go and fight on the ground – she wouldn’t have lied to General Ironwood like that, she knew her limitations and would remain safely in the air; that way, she might not give Rainbow a heart attack – but because it made her feel a little stronger, a little braver, a little bit more like she belonged in this situation otherwise.

She needed those feelings; she couldn’t afford to be constantly doubting and second-guessing herself if she was going to be useful to their friends.

She turned, the hydraulic joints of her armour whirring as her body shifted, to see Ciel running towards her, Distant Thunder slung across her back, her skirt flying around her legs as she dodged nimbly around the deck crew to reach Twilight.

She came to a sudden stop in front of Twilight, smoothing out her skirt with both hands and looking as though she was trying to get some of her lost decorum back. “You are flying down into the combat area?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Ruby…” She lowered her voice and leaned forwards conspiratorially. “It sounds like Ruby activated her silver eyes, but they… knocked her unconscious or something. General Ironwood has ordered her to be evacuated to Beacon. I’ve volunteered.”

Ciel nodded. “Then I shall come down with you and disembark there before you take Ruby away.”

Twilight frowned. “Are you sure? You-”

“Penny was the one damaged beyond the ability to carry on, Twilight, not me,” Ciel said with a slight edge of a sniff in her voice.

Twilight hesitated. “But you were hurt,” she pointed out.

“And you are neither pilot nor soldier, what of it?” Ciel demanded sharply. She paused, taking a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I apologise, that was uncalled for and most unbecoming, but just as you cannot sit idle while our team leader prepares to resume battle against the grimm, neither can I. It was bad enough to retire in the first place, but I understand that someone had to make sure that Penny reached the airship safely. But Penny is safely aboard, and I cannot help her now any more than you can. You can fly an airship; I can wield my gun in defence of Atlas.”

She paused. “Do not deny me this, I beg of you. Though it is not particularly Atlesian of me to say, I will be shamed if I am not there. Every man in the fleet will damn me, and rightly so, if I do not go down and support my team leader.”

Twilight wasn’t quite sure that that was true, but she would have been lying if she had said she didn’t understand the sentiment. She didn’t quite understand the melodrama, but she understood the sentiment. It was, as Ciel had pointed out, exactly what was driving her to fly The Bus. The desire, the need, to do something, to not sit by on the sidelines, to play a part, however small.

“Fine,” she said. “Of course. Get on board and-”

“Us too,” Starlight said.

Twilight nearly jumped, and maybe would have done if her armour hadn’t been weighing her down. “How did you four sneak up on me like that?” she demanded of the members of Team TTSS.

Starlight shrugged. “You were preoccupied with Ciel.”

“Did you see them?” Twilight asked Ciel.

“I was preoccupied with you,” Ciel admitted with some chagrin in her voice.

“You didn’t mean to leave the Grrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrrixie just standing here, did you?” Trixie asked, aghast. “Why, to have a grrrrrreat battle for the fate of a kingdom without us would be unthinkable… don’t you think?”

“And we are your back-up team,” Starlight pointed out. “So we should probably… back up Rainbow Dash now that she needs it.”

Twilight chuckled. “Right. The more the merrier, I suppose. Everyone, get in.”

As the others, the actual huntsman students, climbed up the ramp, their steps hammering as they entered the airship and settled themselves within the spacious compartment, Twilight turned away from it and looked across the flight deck to one of the doors leading into the rest of the ship.

Fluttershy stood there, one hand upon the door frame, her hair moving a little with the wind coming in front the open hangar doors.

Her eyes met Twilight’s for a second.

She nodded.

Twilight nodded back and smiled at her. Then she turned away and followed Ciel and TTSS up into the airship.

She climbed into the cockpit. Midnight sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “Is everybody ready?” she asked.

“Yep,” Starlight replied.

Twilight looked behind her. “You all know it’s grimm down there, not White Fang, right?”

“Midnight would like to change her readiness status,” Midnight said. “And get off the airship.”

Laugher rang throughout The Bus, including from Twilight as she turned back to face the controls. She sealed the doors and retracted the ramp.

“Okay,” she said. “Taking off now.”

The Bus rose gently off the deck, ascending no more than a few inches before Twilight guided it forwards, out of the Valiant’s hanger and into the skies above Vale. The Valiant itself was continuing to move, but it was moving slowly, using its manoeuvring thrusters only in order to maintain greater precision in location and direction, which meant that Twilight and the others in the Skyray were able to get out and ahead of it before turning, putting the airship into a dive spiralling downwards, circling the square even as they descended on it.

Skygraspers, narrower and more angular than the rounded and bulbous Skyray, were criss-crossing the square as well, dropping white Knights from their rears to land on their feet upon the cobbled stone. They were filling up the square, more every moment, but as to avoid hitting any of the students down below, the Skygrasper pilots were concentrating on the other side of the plaza, behind the breach as it were, leaving the area close to and just behind Rainbow and the others free for Twilight to head down towards.

“Here we are,” she said, opening the side doors before she had quite completed her descent. “Midnight, take us the rest of the way down,” she added as she got out of the pilot’s seat and walked into the main compartment.

Ciel and Team TTSS dismounted before the landing was complete, leaping down the few feet separating the airship from the ground.

“Ciel Soleil, reporting for action,” Ciel declared.

“Ciel?” Rainbow asked. “Starlight?”

“The Grrrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie is here!” Trixie proclaimed. “Now the battle can begin!”

“That is, if you can use another gun on the firing line,” Starlight said.

“If there’s anything that we can do, anything at all,” Sunburst murmured, “we’re ready to do it.”

“Excellent,” Captain Schnee said. “We can use everyone ready to do their duty. Form up with the others. Mister Arc, get Miss Rose onto the airship.”

“Hey, Jaune,” Twilight said, kneeling down in the doorway as Midnight lowered the airship as close to the ground as it would get. The ramp began to descend towards the cobbles of the square. Twilight held out her hands. “Let me.”

“Twilight?” Jaune asked, as though he didn’t quite believe it was her. Twilight couldn’t really blame him; she might not have believed it was her either, in his position. Nevertheless, he climbed up the ramp and handed Ruby over into Twilight’s arms. “Be careful.”

“I will,” Twilight assured him. “Don’t worry; I’ve got her.” She looked down. Ruby looked… so young. So young and so peaceful and… so small. Like Penny, Twilight was struck by a sense of almost revulsion at the idea that someone so young was being asked to fight humanity’s battles at the risk of her own life.

But if she didn’t, I suppose she’d feel even more useless than I do sometimes. “How is she?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Jaune admitted. “You’re going to get her someplace safe, right?”

Twilight nodded. “To Beacon. I’m sure Professor Ozpin will know what to do.”

“I hope so,” Jaune agreed. He paused for a moment, seeming unsure as to what to say. “Um, I should let you get her out of here, shouldn’t I?” He turned to go.

“Jaune!” Rainbow called out. “Wait a second!” She ran up the ramp and into the airship. “You want a weapon, Jaune? One that doesn’t involve taking Sunset’s sword?”

“I’d like one, sure,” Jaune agreed. “But-”

“Twilight, or Midnight,” Rainbow said. “Open the other door.”

Midnight must have done it, because the door on the other side of the airship slid open without Twilight going anywhere.

Rainbow Dash grabbed the rotary autocannon mounted above that other door, on the right-hand side of the airship, and first lowered it so that it could be fired out of the door and then, detached it from its mounting before presenting it to Jaune.

“It’ll be kind of an awkward hold because the mounting is supposed to take the weight,” Rainbow said, “but you’re kind of strong, so I think you’ll be able to handle it. Wrap your hand around the back and try and brace it as best as you can, then hold this handle on the side here and squeeze the bar to fire. Now, again, the mount is supposed to absorb the recoil, so without it, it’s going to kick upwards if you hold the trigger down too long, so try and remember to fire in short bursts and keep adjusting your aim. Except don’t worry about actually aiming because once the grimm start coming up, you’ll be bound to hit something.”

“Dash!” Captain Schnee called. “Mister Arc!”

“Do you want it?” Rainbow asked.

“I’ll take it,” Jaune said, which was at least half an answer. He took the rotary autocannon from Rainbow’s outstretched hands, fumbling around with it as he tried to find the right way to hold it, even as he descended the airship with it.

Rainbow hesitated, looking at Twilight.

“You should probably go,” Twilight said gently.

“Right, sure,” Rainbow said, yet still, she hesitated for a second longer before running down out of The Bus and back into the square.

Twilight set Ruby down on one of the seats nearest to the cockpit, buckling her in before heading back into the cockpit and taking the pilot’s seat once more.

The doors closed, the ramp raised, and with their passenger safe and silent and motionless behind them, Twilight began to raise the airship back up into the air.

She turned away, pointing her craft towards Beacon and leaving.

Leaving them all behind.

The grimm surged up the tunnel with fangs bared, roaring out their anger and their hatred as they came.

The huntsmen met them arrayed in an old-fashioned line, shoulder to shoulder in a way that the warriors who fought in the Great War might have recognised, presenting their firearms to the tunnel and the grimm who filled it, cramming it with their black and oily bodies and their white bone masks.

Sunset’s Sol Invictus, Pyrrha’s Miló, Blake’s Gambol Shroud, Rainbow’s Unfailing Loyalty, Ciel’s Distant Thunder, the rotary autocannon that Rainbow had given Jaune, they all lined up alongside the weapons of Yang, Nora, Ren, Starlight, Neptune, Sun, Sky, Dove, and Russell which Sunset could not name. Weiss and Trixie, who didn’t have guns per se but who were not helpless until the enemy reached close quarters, stood on the flanks of their formation, wand and rapier drawn and brandished towards the onrushing enemy. Arslan, Bon Bon, Flash, Cardin, and Tempest, who had no ranged weapons of any kind, stood behind them, waiting for their turn if their turn should come. Well, most of them waited; Arslan prowled impatiently, blind to the glares that Winter Schnee was shooting in her direction.

Winter Schnee herself stood between the two lines, sabre drawn, tapping the blade against her boot.

Lyra and Sunburst stood furthest to the rear. Sunburst had a book in his hand, though Sunset had no idea what he meant to do with it, while Lyra was plucking the strings of her harp, and her voice raised in a song to match the melody that she was playing.

“Men of Va-le stop your dreaming,

Can’t you see their spearpoints gleaming,

See their warrior pennants streaming,

To this battlefield!”

The words ought to have meant little and less to Sunset, and indeed to everyone here who was not from Vale – which was most of them, including Lyra herself – but as Lyra played and as she sang, her whole body began to glow brighter than mere aura could explain. And as she played and as she sang, Sunset felt a fresh strength suffusing her limbs, felt a fresh courage filling her heart, so that as the grimm surged up the tunnel Sunset faced with steady arms and less fear than the numbers of these monsters might warrant.

After all, as the song proclaimed, they would not yield.

The grimm charged up the slope, up the same slope up which Team SAPR had scrambled just a little while before, but where the huntsmen had been met with many helpful hands, the grimm were met with fire and the promise of death. The muzzle flashes were almost blinding as every huntsman on the line opened up as one. Ren’s pistols blazed bright green, Nora’s grenades left pink trails in their wake as they flew into the grimm and exploded in bright showers that devoured handfuls of monsters at a time, Yang made punching motions with her fists as fire leapt form her gauntlets; Dove’s gunblade and the butt of Sky’s halberd both boomed and banged as they let fly; Sun’s gunchucks banged as he twirled them in his hands, exchanging one gun for the other on the chain; Gambol Shroud spat, alternating with the deeper boom of Unfailing Loyalty; bursts of blue energy leapt from the muzzles of Starlight and Neptune’s carbines; blasts of fire dust flew from Russel’s daggers; Sol Invictus and Miló both blazed forth.

The grimm died as they tried to pass through that wall of fire, they charged into oncoming death, the beowolves and the ursai and the creeps that tried to scale the slope were met with beams and bullets that blew off limbs and shattered their bone masks and turned their bodies to smoke and ashes. None of them reached the hole itself, none of them escaped into the square, none of them so much as set foot in Vale.

They kept on coming, and they kept on dying.

Sunset fired off her sixth round. “I need to reload,” she shouted.

Pyrrha fired again. “So do I,” she agreed.

“Now that you mention it,” Sun added, raising one hand.

Winter gestured with her rapier at the breach itself, and Weiss did likewise with her sabre, and as they gestured, a pair of black glyphs, slowly rotating in place, appeared over the breach, blocking it momentarily, forming a barrier against which the grimm could push the scrabble but could neither pass nor destroy.

Not for the moment, anyway. Sunset, Pyrrha, Sun – and she saw Blake and Rainbow taking the opportunity as well – scrambled to reload quickly, chambering fresh rounds, slamming in fresh magazines, then raising their weapons to their shoulders once again.

“Ready!” cried Pyrrha.

“Ready,” echoed Sunset.

“I’m ready,” Blake declared.

“Ready,” called out Rainbow.

“Me too,” added Sun.

Winter and Weiss lowered their blades, and the black glyphs that had restrained the grimm disappeared. With a triumphant howl, they leapt forward – and died at once as the withering fire of the huntsman resumed.

And then, suddenly, there were no more grimm left to shoot at. The tunnel was clear; there were no beowolves struggling to get up the slope, no ursai digging into the rubble with their claws; there was… nothing.

“Is… is that it?” Sky asked, lowering his reversed halberd. “Did we win?”

Sunset said nothing but reloaded Sol Invictus anyway, just in case. She would have liked nothing better than for it to be over; she would have liked nothing better than for them to have won the battle so quickly and so cheap; to have won, in fact, the battle without cost, and thus vindicated herself and her decision on the train – to her own satisfaction, at least.

“Nobody relax just yet,” Winter said. “The grimm are not without cunning; this may be a stratagem. Stay vigilant.”

They waited. There was no sign of any more grimm, and barely a sound arose from the underground. It was as though the grimm were trying to stay silent in the hopes that, if they were quiet, the huntsmen would forget they were there. They were not wholly successful, however: as they waited, they could hear the occasional growl or snarl or snuffle that told the huntsmen that there were yet creatures lurking in the dark, waiting.

But waiting for what?

Sunset’s equine ears pricked up. She could hear something else, not a roar but a… a clicking sound, or a snip, like scissors in the dark. Scissors slicing their way through the blackness, slicing closer and closer, snip, snip, snip.

It emerged into view: a deathstalker, almost too large to fit through the hole, its armoured carapace gleaming in the darkness, its tail and gleaming golden stinger pressed down almost flat against its shell, its pincers making that snipping, slicing sound as they opened and closed upon the empty air.

The deathstalker advanced up the slope of rubble, and other grimm followed after it, sheltering behind its armoured bulk as though it were a shield, keeping their voices low, restricting themselves to soft growls of restrained anticipation, as if silence would give them protection as much as the scorpion grimm itself.

Once more, the huntsmen met it with fire. Every weapon on the line blazed away, but this was no beowolf or ursa that now bore down upon them, this was not even an alpha of those breeds, this was a deathstalker, one of the most heavily-armoured grimm to walk the wilds of Remnant, and its carapace was proof against their firestorm. The bullets from Miló, Sol Invictus, and Gambol Shroud ricocheted off the heavy plates. The heavy rounds of Distant Thunder, whose spent cartridges landed with such thudding force beside Ciel, did not seem to even stagger the creature. Not even Nora’s grenades could stay it; it ploughed through the pink explosions, seeming fazed not at all, coming closer and closer to the mouth of the hole.

Winter Schnee gestured with her sword, and as she brandished her slender blade, a white glyph began to gleam beneath her feet, and a flock of miniature nevermores, spectral and white, appeared around her and flew like a storm of arrows towards the deathstalker, assailing it as though they sought to tear the grimm apart like carrion birds devouring a carcass.

Yet the deathstalker advanced nonetheless.

The spectral nevermores disappeared, and in their place, a beowolf of gleaming silver-white, a ghostly image, hurled itself towards the deathstalker, silently bearing its teeth. The deathstalker caught the beowolf in one claw and shattered it to nothing beneath its grip.

Trixie raised her wand, and fire leapt from the tip to engulf the deathstalker and lick at the grimm who followed in its wake; but though the beowolves and the ursai following behind let out howls of pain, the deathstalker moved through the fire as though it felt nothing at all.

It broke through the glyphs that Weiss and Winter placed to bar its path and charged out of the darkness and into the light, pincers slicing this way and that, driving the huntsmen back before it.

Two beams of bright red light leapt down from one of the remaining Atlesian cruisers, skewering the deathstalker upon its crimson lances, the laser beams effortlessly punching through the armour on one side and out the other and penetrating the ground on the other side. The deathstalker turned to ash before their eyes, but by then, the other grimm, those that had followed the deathstalker in its advance, had already gained the surface in their turn, pouring out of the tunnel with a great roar as though merely by rushing into the sunlight they had gained the victory.

Both Atlesian cruisers fired, their lasers striking from above like heavenly thunderbolts to consume grimm in their fire, but the grimm were pouring out of the darkness too quickly now, and in too great numbers to be so easily contained; worse, some of the laser fire, though it slaughtered grimm, also widened the mouth of the breach yet further and gave the grimm more room to escape the tunnel beneath. Sunset saw Trixie trying to seal the hole with ice dust from her wand, but by this point, the grimm were pressing forward in too dense a mass and too great numbers to be so easily withheld: they smashed through her ice barrier as swiftly as she could cast it.

The deathstalker had weakened the line of the huntsmen, pressing it back so that instead of a line, it had become more of a crescent; now, as more and more grimm emerged and spread out across the square, rushing in all directions, some of them focussing upon the young huntsmen and others upon the Atlesian Knights taking them under fire from the flanks and rear, the line disintegrated as the grimm fell upon them.

Sunset bayoneted a beowolf, thrusting her blade in and then firing the last two rounds she had in her rifle for good measure to be sure of killing the beast. She caught sight of another snarling face, a white bone mask filled with teeth, and reversed her rifle to club the grimm with the butt once, twice until she shattered the mask, then blew another beowolf’s head off with a burst of magic.

She stepped backwards, eyes darting around. “Pyrrha!” she yelled. “Jaune!” She couldn’t see either of them; she was having trouble making anyone out amidst this black tide spilling out of the underground. I have to find them. This was for them. “Pyrrha!”

An alpha beowolf lunged for her, claws drawn back for a swiping stroke, but Akoúo̱ flew through the air like a discus to slice its head off before it could reach her. Sunset followed the direction of the flight to see Pyrrha, Miló in spear mode held in both hands, skewering an ursa with the point before holding out her hand to grasp her shield once more as it flew back to her.

Jaune stood behind her, still holding the cannon that Rainbow had given him, squeezing off a burst here, a burst there; he certainly didn’t lack for targets right now.

An ursa major bore down on them. Pyrrha caught its blow upon her shield, turning its paw aside as Miló switched from spear to sword mode in her grasp in time for her to slash at its exposed foreleg. She did not sever it, but she did wound the creature, which drew back with an angry hiss.

Sunset advanced towards both her teammates and the grimm, striding forwards with her hand out, burst after burst of magic leaping from palm to slam into the ursa major, making it recoil, cower, try in vain to shield itself with its forelegs before Sunset grasped Soteria with her telekinesis and sent it flying through the air to slice off the ursa’s head.

“I know you didn’t need that,” Sunset said, as she joined Pyrrha and Jaune, “but I had to return the favour somehow.”

“What do we do now?” Jaune asked.

Winter slid forwards upon a line of glyphs, slicing through two beowolves before skewering a creep upon the end of her blade. “Fall back!” she cried, her voice raised like a trumpet above the din of battle. “Fall back to the edges of the square; we need to keep them from leaving this plaza! Fall back and cover the exits!”

They fell back, each team choosing their own direction and fighting their way out. Team WWSR went south, with Cardin hewing a path for the others, his mace rising and falling, his tall, broad-shouldered form rising head and shoulders above the beowolves around him as he bludgeoned them to death, while Flash shifted Caliburn fluidly from spear to sword and back again as the situation and the foe dictated; Weiss stood in the midst of her three teammates, casting glyphs to make them faster, to protect them against sudden onslaughts they had not seen coming, and to send them sliding across the ground more swiftly towards their goal.

Rainbow, Ciel, Applejack, and Team TTSS – plus Winona – went east, Rainbow outpacing all and leaving a rainbow trail behind her to plant herself squarely in the middle of the road in case any grimm should come that way. The others let the Atlesian Knights take some of the strain on their behalf, leaving them to fight the grimm within the square and only killing those that threatened them, the quicker to reach a point where they could stop the grimm from getting out into the wider city. Once there, Ciel climbed up onto the rooftop lounge of a luxurious hotel and, amongst the empty chairs and empty tables, began to pick off the grimm as they approached.

Sun, Neptune, and the newly reunited Team YRBN – plus Zwei – went north, with Nora killing grimm and destroying Atlesian Knights with equal wild abandon as she fired off her grenades in every direction. Eventually, the grimm pressed too close for grenades, and she started swinging her hammer, making teammates permanent and temporary alike duck sometimes beneath her mighty swings. Yang led the way, her hair ablaze with wrath, flames rising from her body, her eyes as red as any grimm as they slaughtered their way to the road out, and then, like lionesses protecting their cubs from the hunters, they turned at bay and prepared to deny all passage to any grimm who might follow.

Team SAPR went west, and with them went Arslan and Team BLBL, or three members of Team BLBL, at least. It wasn’t something that they noticed as they fell back, as they cut or shot their way through the grimm who tried to stop them; it wasn’t something they noticed as Bon Bon was hurling Sirius around to crush the skulls of beowolves or as Arslan was slaying ursai with series’ of punches so rapid you could barely follow her movements; it wasn’t something that they noticed as Pyrrha led the way, her scarlet sash bright amidst the sea of oily black, a banner unfurled for them to follow. It wasn’t something they noticed until they reached the street which was their new position to defend, but once they reached the street, they noticed that Sky wasn’t with them.

In the chaos, he had become separated from them, or…

“Sky?” Lyra asked, looking around the faces of the others with her as though she might have missed him in the crowd. “Sky? Have any of you seen Sky? Dove? Bon Bon?”

“I…” Dove hesitated. “He was beside me, and then… I turned… then… I don’t know.”

“I thought he was with us,” Bon Bon said. “I could have sworn he was with us.”

“Then where is he?” Lyra demanded. “Sky? Sky?!”

They all looked out, to where the grimm were battling with the sleek white androids for control of the plaza. There was no sign of Sky, nor any other huntsman; even Winter Schnee had fallen back and joined Team WWSR.

They couldn’t see him in the square, and from what they could see of the other teams at the other edges of the square, they couldn’t see him there either.

I caused this to save my team; now I may have cost someone else their teammate instead.

It had not been her intent, but it seemed it might have been her consequence.

“We have to go back and look for him,” Lyra demanded.

“You two stay here; I’ll go,” Dove said.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,” Bon Bon insisted.

Lyra began. “But Sky-”

“Is dead already, or he is safe,” Bon Bon snapped, and it seemed that there were tears in her eyes. “Either way, there… there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

The grimm now had an untrammelled approach out of the tunnel and into Vale; they would have been masters of the square itself but for the Atlesian Knights, white and bright, who had descended upon the plaza before the battle began and who stood their ground as the huntsmen fell back to more defensible positions. Their rifles cracked, their muzzles flashed as white as their bodies, and as the grimm poured out, they were assailed by fire which, though not perhaps as powerful as some of the weapons used by the huntsmen, were nevertheless able to bring down beowolves and ursai and creeps as they spilled out across the stones. The Knights fell too, of course, their slender, fragile bodies ripped apart, heads tossed aside, bodies broken, lights flickering and fading. Another wave of Knights was dropped, falling directly on top of the grimm from the airships above, and they fired at point blank range as though determined to sell themselves dearly and buy every second that they could.

As the Knights fell, even before the grimm had destroyed them all, some of the creatures were trying to escape, dashing north and south, east and west, fleeing for the exits, trying to make not only for the streets but also for the buildings that surrounded the square. They were taken under fire not only from the Knights within but also from the young huntsmen who had fallen back to surround the square. In all the confusion and with so much to keep track of and so many grimm to obscure the view, Sunset could not have said that none of them escaped, but she did not see any of them escape her, and she wished very fervently that none had escaped at all.

The grimm were masters of the plaza; in time, they would destroy all of the Knights who sought to hold it against them, but all that victory, growing clearer by the moment, had given them was… well, it had made them a target for the Atlesian airpower of which Rainbow Dash was so fond of boasting.

And Sunset could see why she boasted of it. The two Atlesian cruisers which had neither moved off nor parked themselves directly overhead keep firing with their main lasers, destroying groups of grimm who stood too close together, or taking out particularly large or powerful-looking grimm, like any deathstalkers who might emerge or that cyclops who showed his face only to have it blown off. Besides that, the smaller airships in all their numerous designs, both sleek and bizarre, were continuously darting too and fro, opening fire with rotary autocannons and machine guns. Sunset saw Rainbow’s distinctively garish airship circling the square, with Midnight’s android body standing in the open doorway firing the side-mounted gun that hadn’t been dismounted, blazing away, the barrels rotating furiously as she sprayed the square with bullets.

Nor were she and Twilight alone in that; a whole host of airships were doing just the same, and it almost seemed to Sunset as though the reason why so many grimm were able to keep pushing up from the underground was that the grimm who had already made it to the surface kept dying under Atlesian fire from the air and making room for them.

At one point, Sunset heard the shriek of nevermores approaching, the giant bird grimm who had not come through the tunnel but had been drawn to the fighting by the swirling emotions of the huntsmen and the panic of the city. With black wings spread out and shrieks flying from their throats, they descended towards the battlefield.

The three Atlesian cruisers erupted in fire, a multitude of point defence weapons filling the skies with tracer rounds, lasers from the warship hovering directly above the plaza turning nevermores to ashes in an instant with its lasers. And then a squadron of Atlesian fighters sliced through the remaining nevermores like knives, turning with perfect precision to slice through them again, breaking up into flights of four to wheel in and out of the mass of grimm, destroying them with cannons and missiles and lasers, pulling the mass apart as the nevermores tried to pursue them only to find the fighters rounding on them in a fury.

And that was the end of the nevermore incursion.

The Atlesians did not use missiles on the grimm in the square, only cannons and machine guns – and lasers, of course – but that hardly mattered, especially once their ground troops arrived to join the huntsmen and relieve them, forming a line across the road and occupying the buildings surrounding the square, pouring fire into the grimm from all sides, even as their airships hammered them from the air.

No grimm could get out now, and Sunset but hoped that none had gotten out before.

“Dispatch airships to pick up the students,” Ironwood ordered. “They’ve done enough for today.” Some of them had done more than enough for today; now that the First Battalion was in position, his soldiers could take it from there.

“Yes, sir,” des Voeux said.

“Have we had any further word from the Valish Council yet?” Ironwood asked.

“Not yet, sir.”

Ironwood let nothing show on his face. Perhaps, he thought, his request seemed unnecessary to the Council now, given that his forces appeared to be containing the grimm incursion within Lost Valley Square. Unfortunately, there was always the possibility that his troops would run out of bullets before the grimm ran out of bodies with which to absorb those bullets, and something would have to be done about this breach if they didn’t want a permanent invasion route for the grimm just sitting in the middle of downtown Vale.

Still, perhaps he shouldn't be too hard on them. It was a heavy thing that he was asking of them, to let him bomb Vale, even for a good cause.

He just hoped that the Council could see that it was for a good cause, even the councillors who didn’t like him very much.

Ironwood watched on the screens as footage from cameras mounted on the belly of the ship showed the grimm writhing under the torment inflicted on them by his air and ground units, perishing in the fire of Atlesian airships and Atlesian infantry. But they were always replaced, always more grimm kept coming up out of the ground. Was there no end to them? Were they going to keep coming until the guns became too hot to hold and the airships had to land for lack of dust to keep them airborne?

He feared they would; that was the grimm way, after all, to drown the defences of humanity under a dark tide. And this was no random horde of grimm gathered together by unhappy chance; this was Salem’s work, Salem’s plan. If she saw the chance to take down one of the four kingdoms, to snuff out one of the four lights of the world… was there any limit to the number of grimm she would throw at such an opportunity?

“Put me through to Captain Schnee,” he said.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“This is Schnee,” Winter said, her voice filling the CIC.

“I want you to pick four specialists to support you and make a sweep of the area around the plaza,” Ironwood said. “Look for any sign that any grimm escaped before the perimeter was completely locked down. If any grimm did get out into Vale, then you’re to hunt them down and eliminate them.”

“Understood, sir. Schnee out.”

“Sir,” des Voeux said. “It’s the Valish Council requesting to speak with you.”

“Put them on,” Ironwood said at once.

“General Ironwood,” First Councillor Aris said, her voice heavy, as though it were being weighted down with lead. “We have debated your request… extensively, and now that we have received word from the police that the evacuation is completed as best as can be determined… we have decided to authorise your use of heavy ordinance within Vale. Do what you must to end this.”

“Thank you, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood said. “Rest assured, I don’t do this lightly.”

“You’ll forgive me if that means very little, General,” Councillor Aris replied. “Vale will be safe after this, won’t it?”

For now. “It will, Madame Councillor,” Ironwood replied. “I guarantee it.”

“Then I hope the people will forgive us both,” Councillor Aris said before hanging up.

“Signal all airships,” Ironwood commanded. “Missiles are now authorised; all squadrons are to commence bombardment while the infantry withdraw. First Battalion is to pull out clear of the blast area. Cruisers: prepare to drop Sledgehammers on my mark.”

Airships had landed to extract them before the Atlesian troops began to pull out, so Sunset had a good view as the fireworks started.

They were all in the same airship, all seven of them: Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Arslan, Bon Bon, Lyra, and Dove. Seven of them in a Skyray with the side doors open, allowing them to watch as the Atlesian airships finally started using their missiles.

It was like… it was like nothing. It was like nothing that Sunset had ever seen before, in Remnant or Equestria. She had no basis for comparison, it was not like anything, it simply… it simply was.

And what it was was terrifying and awe inspiring in equal measure. The air was filled with fire, fiery streaks from all those airships which had been restraining themselves to spitting bullets not long ago suddenly opened up their missile ports or simply remembered that they had rockets mounted beneath their wings and seemed determined to use them all. Fire streaked from underneath every wing, from every nose, it streaked out from every missile so that the sky itself seemed on fire, the fires of heaven falling down upon the grimm, the fire that had been in the sky engulfing the ground as the missiles exploded on impact, the fire consuming the grimm in its embrace.

From out of the door, as the wind brushed at her hair and licked her face, Sunset could see the Atlesian troops retreating. She guessed that was why the airships were suddenly using missiles, but why were they retreating? Why now? Were they suddenly losing the battle for reasons that Sunset could not understand?

And then she saw the bombs falling from the Atlesian cruiser, bombs falling like rain, falling with what seemed like such agonising slowness down towards the ground.

So many bombs.

They fell into the fire and, for a moment, seemed to mingle with the explosions of the missiles from the smaller airships.

And then the entire plaza exploded, the buildings all around shattering, stone and dust and debris rushing through the streets, wind buffeting their airship. Sunset could see soldiers knocked off their feet by the blast, others taking cover where they could.

Smoke rose from what had been the plaza, smoke so thick that nothing beneath its blanket could be seen.

And further east, running in a straight line, a line that followed the tunnel, Sunset and the others could see more explosions just as gigantic tearing Vale apart and covering it with smoke and ash.

“Is that it?” Arslan asked. “Is it over?”

“I think so,” Jaune murmured. “It’s finished.”

Yes, it’s finished, Sunset thought. But at what cost?

She looked at Jaune and Pyrrha, his hand resting gently on top of hers as she stared out at the devastation wrought by Atlesian technological and martial prowess. She thought of Ruby, safely at Beacon and, hopefully, recovering. She thought of Blake and Rainbow Dash.

She thought of Sky, who should have been the eighth person in this Skyray but wasn’t there. Who might be down there, in the smoke and the flame.

Whatever the cost, I’d do it again.

Dear Princess Celestia, am I a monster?

Author's Note

Rewrite note: This chapter has been completely rewritten, and I hope the battle makes a little more sense now.

On another note, I will be out of town this Friday for the first time nearly two years (my goodness, who would have seen that coming two years ago) so the next chapter - the last rewrite chapter for a little while, I should probably say now - will go up on Saturday when I get back.

What's Past is Prologue (Rewritten)

What’s Past is Prologue

“Over here, you ugly son of a bitch! Miranda, run!”

“Pearl, what the hell are you doing?”

“Get out of here, you dumbass; there’s a castle waiting for you!” Pearl laughed, high-pitched and clear, a warrior’s laugh. “Turns out, I really did like those stories after all! Come on, you mother, have a go!”

Miranda shuddered, her whole body shaking even as she clutched the blanket tighter around herself.

But then, her shudders had nothing to do with the cold.

She’d never seen a grimm before. She’d heard stories – you always heard stories – but she’d never seen one. In Alba Longa, the creatures of grimm were more myth than fact; the only people in town who had ever seen one were Mister Arc – Jaune’s father – and his sister Kendal, and neither of them talked about it.

After today, Miranda could understand why.

Everything was a bit of a blur. Her memory was… it was like it was a jigsaw that hadn’t been put together, or it had been put together and then taken apart again, all the little pieces scattered across the box. She couldn’t remember, she couldn’t piece things together, she couldn’t play out what had happened.

She couldn’t remember what they’d been doing in the shelter when they heard the grimm break open the outer door. She couldn’t remember the names of the other people who had been in the shelter with them, although they had exchanged introductions. That she remembered: the ridiculousness of it, everyone introducing themselves like they were at a university mixer, not huddling for safety in a concrete tomb beneath the ground.

She had flashes of memory, flashes that she wasn’t even sure she could trust. Had there been a guy in a clown costume in that shelter, or was her mind playing tricks on her? Had there been a man in a butcher’s apron, or was that… she had to be making that up, right? There was no way that had been real. That was… that was her mind, freaking out about… everything that had happened.

She remembered Pearl pacing up and down. She remembered… one of them had suggested doing some more work on their paper, but she couldn’t remember who.

But she remembered the sound as the beowolf ripped through the outer door. She remembered the lights flickering off, then on again. And she remembered the sight of the grimm.

She didn’t think that she’d ever forget what it looked like, the sound it made, the way it moved, none of it. She wouldn’t forget it until the day she…

Miranda shuddered again. After that, she… she didn’t want to remember. She remembered too much. She remembered running, she remembered hearing screams, she remembered the flashes from the detectives’ guns.

She remembered Pearl, oh god, Pearl. Pearl, with that stupid knife, facing off against the beowolf like she thought she was Pyrrha Nikos or something, the phoenix on her back almost glowing in the flickering light.

“Miranda, run!”

And she had run. She had run, and she hadn’t looked back. She had run and left Pearl to…

“Hey,” the voice of the nice detective intruded into Miranda’s thoughts. She pulled the blanket they had given her closer still as she looked up. The police officer was a faunus, with a horse’s tail drooping down to the ground beneath her legs. Her partner, a human man not much older than Miranda, stood a little way off.

The faunus officer had a kindly look on her face, and in her hand, she held a cup of something hot which she offered to Miranda.

Miranda clutched at the blanket with one hand, feeling the soft fabric beneath her fingers, and with the other, she took the cup. “Thank you,” she whispered. It trembled in her hand. “I… I’m the only one, aren’t I?”

The detective sat down on the bonnet of the car beside her. “You did the right thing,” she said.

“I ran,” Miranda muttered. “I left them all to… to face that thing.”

“You saved yourself,” said the detective. “No one is gonna blame you for that. No one has the right.”

“Pearl tried to fight,” Miranda said.

“Your friend was a hero,” said the male cop.

“That’s right,” the detective said, “she was. But not everyone can be a hero, and there ain’t no shame in that. There ain’t no shame in living, in wanting to keep on living. No shame at all. In that situation… you did the only thing that could be expected of you.”

Miranda sipped her drink. It scalded her throat. “Will… will it ever get easier?” she asked.

The detective didn’t say anything.

And that, in its own way, said everything.

Gilda looked out across the faces of the White Fang.

There were… not many of them left; she hadn’t done an exact headcount, but if there were more than two hundred of them, she would be pleasantly surprised. Not all of the missing had gotten on the train or died in the railyard when the grimm fell upon them; some of them had vanished after that, discarding masks and uniforms and slipping away. Some of them might come back, in time, and if Gilda had anything to say about it, they would be welcomed back with open arms. It was one thing, like Blake, to join the opposition and fight against those who had once been your comrades, but it was something else to decide that this fight just wasn’t for you anymore and retreat into a quiet, peaceful life.

And that was… that was okay. The struggle wasn’t for everyone, if only because it was a struggle; their lives were at stake, and before you took up arms, you had to be sure that you were willing to give your life for the cause of all faunus. Not everyone had that in them, and sometimes, people thought they did but then found out when the time came that they didn’t.

And that was okay. It did no good to shame such people, to hunt them down, to put their names on lists and mark them for death. So long as they didn’t buy their freedom with the names of those still brave enough to stand up and be counted, so long as they didn’t throw in with the oppressors… so long as all they wanted to do was live their lives and try to eke out as much happiness as they could under an unjust system, then who was Gilda to say that they were wrong?

Who was anyone to say that they were wrong?

God knew that she’d felt that impulse herself a few times already.

So that accounted for a few of those missing, though not as many as Gilda would have liked. It was sad but true that a good number, an overwhelming number, really, of those who were not here right now were dead, either from the grimm, or… no, it was mostly from the grimm. The news in Vale wasn’t reporting anything about a White Fang attack, only a grimm incursion, so Gilda had to assume that the grimm had caught up with the train, killed everyone on board – or so many as to make no difference; Dashie and Blake had survived, or at least, they weren’t being reported dead, unlike another student Gilda didn’t know, so maybe some of the White Fang had managed to make it out too – and then pushed on to Vale where they had been stopped.

Just like the White Fang themselves would have been stopped, just as Gilda had said all along, just as Adam had known all along, damn him. So did it really matter whether they had died by grimm fangs or Atlesian bullets? Maybe not, except that if they had been killed by the grimm, that was something else to go on the tally of Cinder Fall.

Adam hadn’t known about the grimm; Gilda had to believe that, she had to believe that he had not fallen so far. He might have been willing to sacrifice their comrades in a doomed gesture of defiance against Atlas and Vale, but to throw them to the literal beowolves? No, he wouldn’t have done that; even he would have seen the futility of that. The man she knew, the man she had followed into battle, the man who had let Fluttershy go because she stirred in him a memory of his youth, that man would not have condemned most of the chapter to such a pointless, bloody, painful death.

But Cinder would. Cinder would without a doubt, and Cinder was connected to the grimm; to Gilda’s mind, it was no accident that the grimm had fallen on them and started down that tunnel the moment that Cinder Fall had finally gone.

It was Cinder’s doing, all of it. Adam’s death, the slaughter of the chapter, all of it hers. They had been cursed from the day that she walked into their camp – even Blake’s departure had happened that same day, with all the consequences that had flowed from that.

Well, there would be a reckoning. Some day, somehow, Gilda would make her pay for what she’d done.

But that was in the future. For now, as she looked out across the faces of those who remained, Gilda was reminded that Adam had placed her in command, and although she didn’t expect the High Leader to let that stand, nevertheless, for the moment, she was the only person left who could command; everyone else who might have had a claim to lead was dead or in prison.

They stood in the foothills north of Mountain Glenn, amidst the beginnings of the high ground that would become the great chain of mountains that shielded Vale from the east. They had retreated here because the terrain would keep them safe from the grimm while they licked their wounds, although Gilda thought that the mass exodus of the grimm from Mountain Glenn to attack Vale might keep them safer than the ground. Still, it didn’t pay to be complacent. They would hole up here for a little while, tend to their injuries, take stock, and then move on once the heat had died down.

As they had fallen back, they had caught sight of two Atlesian warships headed for Mountain Glenn; if they’d gotten there, if they had caught the survivors of the White Fang out in the open, then things would have been even worse for them; Gilda wouldn’t have fancied the chances of so many as fifty people standing before her now; she wouldn’t have fancied her chances of being here herself. Those cruisers had turned away, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be back or that they wouldn’t send scouting parties to hunt down the survivors. So the White Fang would hide, like a deer in the forest, until they were sure the hunters had gone.

But hiding would be a bitter pill for men and women who already felt like they had been defeated; who had been defeated. They had been defeated utterly, and they knew it as well as Gilda did. As she stood before them, as they stood before her with their masks off, she could see in their eyes and on their faces that they knew it as well as she did. Even Strongheart looked shattered by what had befallen them and the worse fate that had befallen their comrades. They were tired, they were frightened; if the city hadn't been emptied out of grimm, then Gilda was sure they would have been attracting some by the despair that she could see.

The despair that she felt.

Never before had the White Fang possessed such numbers, never before had the White Fang amassed such a store of arms and equipment, of dust and everything else. And they had thrown it all away. Most of the men were dead, and more had deserted.

In time, the ones that remained would prove to be… they would prove to have been hardened by this, fired by it, there would be very little else that could shock or shake them, but for now… now they were as fragile as thin glass.

And it was up to Gilda to strengthen them.

She glanced down at Adam’s body. She cradled him in her arms, his lifeless form unmoving. He was covered in a worn old cloak, so that nobody had to see his wounds or his dead face, but everyone knew who was underneath. They knew it from the sword which rested on his body; Gilda hadn’t been able to find the scabbard – there had been no trace of it – but she had found the sword, the red sword that had been Adam’s symbol. The red sword of the Sword of the Faunus.

She glanced down, and as she glanced, Gilda felt a surge of anger running through her for what he had done, for what he had allowed Cinder to do, for putting the White Fang in this position, for costing them so much… but at the same time, she felt a pity for him. He had been driven to his terrible mistakes, by Cinder but also by his own despair, by the loss of hope in what they were doing, the loss of hope that they could achieve anything.

Adam had had his faults, he had made his mistakes, but he deserved to be remembered for more than that; he deserved to be remembered for his valour in the field, for his victories that had inspired them all… for his kindness, in letting Fluttershy go. He deserved to be remembered for what he had been before he lost hope.

Just as the rest of the survivors deserved to have some hope put back in them before they began to despair as much as Adam had.

Gilda raised her voice, letting it carry across the air to all their ears. “I know that you’re tired,” she said. “I know that you’re hungry. Believe me, I don’t want to stand here giving a speech any more than you want to listen to one, so I won’t keep you long. But before we make camp, I want to say a few words.

“When we walked into Mountain Glenn, there were hundreds of us. More joined us there, eager recruits; perhaps some of you were amongst those who joined us later, perhaps you were there at the start, but you’ll remember that by the end, there were over a thousand of us underneath that city. Look at us now. Look around. Who… who could have imagined that such grief would come to us? Our champion, Adam Taurus, is dead, and many brave and loyal faunus with him.

“I won’t lie to you, I won’t say that they did not die in vain. They did, it seems to me; I cannot point to a single thing and tell you, no, their deaths accomplished that, and for that, their deaths were worth it. Not a single thing. They died in vain, but that does not mean that they died for nothing. They died for us, for all the faunus, for our cause, for our freedom, for all the things that brought you to the White Fang in the first place.

“How many of you know the story of the Shallow Sea? How many of you heard it as children?”

Some, including Strongheart, raised their hands; Gilda guessed that more – most – knew the story but were perhaps too embarrassed to admit it; it wasn’t in fashion with everybody these days.

“God did not simply grant us these wings, or these horns or ears or tails or anything else that makes us who we are. He did not give our ancestors these things like birthday presents, no; he tested them. He tested their faith, by summoning them to the magical island, by making them endure an arduous voyage, by demanding that they jump into the water and give up forever on being human. He tested their faith, and not all were found equal to the test.

“But just as God tested the faith of our ancestors, so he is testing us, and we will prove as equal to his test as the first faunus of old! Inspired by the memory of those we have lost, of those who came before and gave their lives, we will fight on! We will fight on and build a better world in memory of those who came before, of those who did not live to see it, we will march onward. Take it up with me men: onward!”

“Onward!”

“Louder so that God can hear you!” Gilda yelled. “Louder so they hear it in Vale and know that we are not defeated: onward!”

“ONWARD!”

“Onward,” Gilda agreed, her voice softening once more. She paused. “We will bury Adam here,” she said. “We will bury him and make a cairn over him to protect his body from the carrion eaters, and his grave will be a monument for all who died at Mountain Glenn, but before that, Father Arbaces, I must ask you to remove his heart… the bravest heart that ever beat for the faunus. Strongheart, when it is safe, you will find a ship to carry you to Menagerie, and you will take Adam’s heart there to be stored with the relics of the martyrs of our struggle, and you will tell the High Leader everything that has happened here and ask her to send us a new commander.”

Strongheart nodded gravely. “I would be honoured, Gilda.”

And because it’s such an honour, you don’t even realise I’m getting you out of the way and sending you somewhere safe, Gilda thought. “It’s an honour that you deserve,” she told her. She sighed. “I’m sorry; I’ve already kept you much longer than I meant to. Get some rest, all of you, eat, nap; I guarantee the struggle will still be here once your bellies are full.

“The road is long and hard, but I promise you, we’ll get there in the end.”

“Good evening, I’m Lisa Lavender bringing you a special report.

“Vale…” Lisa paused, her voice cracking. Cinder, watching, could not resist a slight smirk as the newsreader wiped at her eyes. “Forgive me, viewers; as a journalist and a broadcaster, I strive to report the news objectively, without prejudice or bias. However, there are times when that is difficult, and this… this is one of those occasions.

“The Kingdom of Vale was today the victim of a major grimm assault which managed to penetrate beyond the inner defences and into the midst of Vale itself. Using the old Mountain Glenn subway tunnel, it appears that the grimm were able to pass beneath the walls and enter the city. The barrier, with which the tunnel was sealed when Mountain Glenn fell, was destroyed by an explosion triggered by the White Fang.

“I don’t need to spell out for you, viewers, the potentially disastrous consequences that this could have had for this city and everyone living in it. If I seem a little shaken… this footage, taken from the air over the breach by our brave camera crews, should tell you why.”

The image cut from Lisa Lavender in her studio, to slightly shaky footage that seemed to have been taken from out of a Bullhead; the picture was sometimes interrupted by Atlesian airships darting to or fro into shot, sometimes filling the entire frame, but for the most part, it was possible to see what the camera was really trying to capture: the grimm, the horde of grimm, the great black tide pouring out of the ground in all their malice and their restless hate, filling up Lost Valley Square with their numbers, snarling and howling. One of the beowolves, an alpha judging by its size, looked straight up into the camera and bared its fangs.

Quite an impressive shot, I must admit, Cinder thought.

“However, tragedy was averted thanks to the intervention of the Atlesian military units under the command of General Ironwood who arrived in Vale some months ago along with the Atlas students here for the Vytal Festival. With the assistance of students from Beacon, Atlas, and Haven academies, Atlesian soldiers sealed off the breach, containing the grimm within Lost Valley Square until the VPD had finished evacuating all civilians from the surrounding districts. Once the evacuation was completed, Atlesian airships collapsed the tunnel with high explosives, eliminating the grimm below. Atlesian and Valish engineers are now working to fill in the collapsed tunnels with concrete, establishing a more secure barrier against a recurrence of this plot.

“First Councillor Novo Aris had this to say to the kingdom.”

Councillor Aris stood in front of a lectern set up in the middle of the street in front of the palace. She rested her hands upon it, looking as though she might collapse without its support. The axes of the Kingdom of Vale emblazoned upon the lectern looked rather inappropriate in light of Vale’s inability to defend itself without Atlesian help.

“I would like,” she said, “to thank General Ironwood and his gallant soldiers for their assistance in this, our hour of urgent need. I would also like to thank the police for their flawless handling of the evacuation. To the families and loved ones of those who lost their lives in this tragedy, you have the sympathies not only of myself, nor only of the entire council, but of the entire kingdom. All of Vale grieves with you.

“And I would like to thank all of you, the people of Vale, for the way that you have responded to this traumatic event: not with fear, or panic, but with calm and cooperation. To the terrorists who orchestrated this assault, I have this to say: you will not win. You will not make us live in fear. You will not make us cower before you and the threat of your actions. We will continue to go about our lives normally, and in complete freedom, and our military and law enforcement will hunt you down and bring you to justice.”

“Are you going to resign?” someone asked.

“I will continue to serve the remainder of my term as First Councillor,” Councillor Aris said, “and I will contest the next election as the leader of my party.”

“Is the Vytal Festival going to go ahead?”

“Yes,” Councillor Aris said bluntly. “As I said, we will not live in fear, nor will we deviate from the way we live our lives because of the threat posed by terrorists or by the grimm. We will hold a successful Vytal Festival and celebrate the cooperation between kingdoms that led Atlesian military and Valish law enforcement to work together to handle this crisis.”

The picture cut back to Lisa Lavender in the studio, if only for a brief moment. “However, Leader of the Opposition Orange Peel had this to say in response.”

Again, the picture cut from the studio to Orange Peel, who seemed more red than orange at the moment, addressing the camera. “I join with the First Councillor in giving thanks and praise to General Ironwood and his soldiers for their assistance in this matter. I join with the First Councillor in praising the response of law enforcement. I join with the First Councillor in grieving for the victims of this completely avoidable tragedy. But I must ask the First Councillor why is it that we were reliant upon the Atlesian military to defend Vale from these grimm? Why do we not have the tier one military capabilities to defend this kingdom, our kingdom, by ourselves? Why did this happen in the first place, why was this allowed to happen? From their inability to stop the dust robberies to this, the Council’s record on security is a litany of failures, and I think people will be asking themselves, do they trust this Council to keep our kingdom safe?”

“General Ironwood did not respond to request for an interview, but did issue this statement-”

Cinder shut her scroll with an audible snap. “Well, I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

“'Rather well'?” Lightning Dust repeated incredulously. “'Rather well'? You think this went well?”

Cinder turned around. Lightning and Emerald were sat together upon a fallen log. The sun was beginning to set, casting the world in shades of red and gold. She folded her arms. “You disagree?”

Lightning coughed into the back of her hand as she pushed herself up onto her feet. “Mercury’s dead,” she reminded Cinder. “Most of the White Fang are dead, and those that aren’t probably hate us. We’ve lost the Paladins, the dust, everything that we spent months working for, the whole plan-”

“My plan,” Cinder said. “Mine, and mine alone.”

Lightning snorted. “Your plan,” she said. “Your plan that has gone up in smoke with nothing to show for it.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Cinder cautioned her. “Do you think you could have done a better job?”

“It’s hard to see how I could have done a worse job,” Lightning spat.

“Cinder has-” Emerald began.

Cinder held up one hand. “It’s alright, Emerald. Let Lightning have her candour.” She smirked. “Very well then, if you want to lead, if you want to serve our mistress directly, then kill me.” She held out her arms on either side of me. “Kill me and take the power for yourself.” She had no idea if it would actually work or not – they were in uncharted waters – but it didn’t really matter at the moment. She chuckled. “Are you surprised? Did you think that I didn’t know? Did you think that I didn’t see it in your eyes: the hunger, the lust, the desire? You want it, don’t you?”

“Of course I want it,” Lightning admitted, the words ripped from her throat. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Then take it,” Cinder urged. “Strike me down and become more powerful than you could possibly imagine.”

Lightning Dust hesitated. She looked at Cinder warily, even as she took a step forward. One hand clenched into a fist.

“Mind you,” Cinder murmured, “I feel I should warn you that I’ll only give you one chance.” The smirk on her face broadened. “So best not miss.”

Lightning swallowed. Cinder stared straight into her eyes. Her arms remained spread out, baring her chest for a blow. She had no weapons; she made no move to summon Midnight in either form.

She simply waited and stared into Lightning’s eyes, seeing her will… and her weakness.

Lightning looked away, turning aside with a wordless growl.

“Power belongs to those who are willing to risk everything to obtain it, Lightning Dust,” Cinder declared. “It belongs to me.”

Lightning snorted. “It still doesn’t change the fact that we’ve got nothing.”

“No?” Cinder asked. “When Pyrrha Nikos wins a fight in the arena, what else happens?”

“Someone else loses?” Emerald guessed.

“Precisely,” Cinder said, miming applause. “Clever girl, Emerald. One person’s victory is another person’s defeat. Today is General Ironwood’s victory, I admit, but then, that was inevitable from the moment that his ships arrived in the skies over Vale. The White Fang, the grimm, neither were ever going to be capable of defeating his forces in a fair fight. For all his many faults, and for all the faults of Atlas, General Ironwood commands a resolute army backed with many technological wonders. That was why we were planning to take his power away, but that… fell through, as you recall.” She grimaced at the memory. “Which is why, instead of stripping him of his power, we have enhanced it. We have given General Ironwood a great victory. He is the hero of the day. All of Vale praises and acclaims him. So who is the loser from his victory?”

“We are,” Lightning muttered.

“Vale,” Emerald answered. “They looked weak, incapable of defending themselves, reliant on the Atlesians to rescue them.”

“Correct again, Emerald,” Cinder said, smiling at her. “Councillor Aris can talk all she likes, but the truth is that she has been humiliated, the latest in a line of humiliations that we have inflicted upon her – why, it’s almost as if I planned this from the beginning – and for all her strenuous and doubtless sincere denials, I predict that she will be hurled from office in a matter of weeks.”

“How does that help us?” Lightning asked.

“It doesn’t,” Cinder admitted. “But it is a symptom of the political strife and turmoil that we have set in motion, and strife and turmoil do help us. Vale needs Atlas right now, it needs General Ironwood, but it will also hate that it needs them and resent that need. None more so, I think, than the Valish military who were, as they say, missing in action during this grave crisis. They will resent the impression that they were unnecessary and resent it all the more because they will half believe it themselves. With some careful prodding, and the help of the siren Sonata and our fortunately misguided friends amongst the grimm cults, we can turn that envy and resentment into something far more… sinister.”

Lightning frowned. “You think you can get Vale to start fighting Atlas?”

“I think that in a febrile atmosphere, mistakes can be made, and accidents can happen,” Cinder said. “And when emotions are running high, mistakes and accidents can assume a far more sinister aspect.” She paused. “Our enemies probably think the same as you, Lightning Dust: they think that we’re done, they think that we’ve had our shot and missed, they think that we no longer have the power to threaten them. So let them celebrate their victory. Let them relax their watch. Let them turn their gaze to the Vytal Festival and all its delights. And all the while, we will be there, just out of sight, hidden from their gaze by the shadows of their own complacency, working to destroy them.”

“Despite the best efforts of Atlesian troops and academy students, at least one beowolf did manage to escape the perimeter. This grimm entered an evacuation shelter and killed five people before being put down by two detectives of the VPD, Lieutenant Daisy Jo Martinez and Detective Mallard Carter. The VPD has released the names of the five victims: Stable Lloyd, 43, a carpenter; Lily Kolea, 34, a housewife; Ochre Kemble, 50, a butcher; Pearl Wheatley, 21, a waitress; Bruno Savonarola, 38, a clown and children’s entertainer. The families of the victims have been notified, and our thoughts go out to them, as well as to the loved ones of Sky Lark, 17, a student from Beacon Academy who has been reported missing after the battle.”

What were you in life, to be worth sacrifice?

“I was a carpenter.”

“I was a housewife.”

“I was a butcher.”

“I was a waitress.”

“I was a clown.”

“We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.”

“Six lives,” Sunset murmured, as she closed her scroll.

“Huh?” Rainbow asked.

The two of them were sat together, on one of the docking pads, their legs dangling out over the edge, kicking at the empty air as they looked out over Vale, wounded Vale, frightened Vale, astonished Vale. Living Vale. Vale that had lost six lives because of her.

The sun was setting, and the world was cast in red and gold. In her colours, the fiery colours of her splendid hair.

Fitting, considering that she had done this.

Sunset had been here before: with Cinder, after the battle in the Emerald Forest. They had sat on this docking pad and talked about nothing and yet, at the same time, seemed to talk about everything.

Cinder.

She knew me so well. I never really knew her at all, but she knew me well enough to play me like a flute.

Sunset glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Six lives,” she repeated. “Five dead in that shelter, plus Sky, makes six.”

“I can count,” Rainbow said, in a tone of gentle reproach. “Higher than six, anyway.”

“Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby,” Sunset said, counting them off on her fingers as she did so. “Blake, Applejack.” She pointed at Rainbow. “And you make six.”

“And you make seven,” replied Rainbow Dash.

“I don’t count, I didn’t do it for me,” Sunset replied quickly. She looked away. “I saved six lives down in that tunnel… and I got six people killed.”

Rainbow frowned. “And you think… what? That the gods decided to balance the scales?”

“No,” Sunset replied dismissively. “At least I hope not, I just…” She sighed. “I got six people killed.”

“And you saved six lives,” Rainbow murmured.

“It doesn’t actually balance out, does it?!” Sunset demanded. “And why are you being so nice about this, why aren’t you judging me like you normally do?”

“I don’t always-”

“Yes,” Sunset said, “you do. All the time. For everything. You’ve gotten on my case for stupid little things that hardly did any harm, yet now, when I have done something genuinely… six people are dead because of what I did, and you don’t seem to care at all.”

“If you think what you did is so terrible, then why did you do it?” Rainbow asked her. “If pressing that trigger was such a heinous act, then why didn’t you… not press the trigger?”

Sunset looked away from her. “You know why.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Do you like slasher movies?”

Sunset glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “Excuse me?”

“Slasher movies,” Rainbow repeated. “Masked killers with really complicated backstories-”

“Baroque methods of execution?” Sunset asked.

“I have to guess what ‘baroque’ means, but I think so, yeah.”

“No,” Sunset answered. “I can’t say I’m a fan.”

“Me neither,” Rainbow muttered. “Fluttershy is.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You’re kidding.”

“I know; it’s incredible, isn’t it?”Rainbow muttered. “I guess it’s all in good fun, so long as it’s all make-believe.”

“I’m not seeing the relevance at all,” Sunset pointed out.

“Sometimes, from what I haven’t been able to forget about some of those movies, the killer sticks the girl in a death trap,” Rainbow explained. “And she can only get out by, like… there’s someone else in the trap, or in a different part of the trap, and the only way to get out of the trap is for the girl to… to kill that other person. That’s… it’s not great, but we don’t blame the girl in the death trap for it, and we don’t call her a monster because of what she did. She’s still the one we root for because we understand that the monster is the one who put her in that position in the first place.” She paused. “Do you get what I’m saying here: those six lives lost are… as tragic as it is, that blood is on Cinder’s hands, not yours. She did this.”

“I pressed the trigger.”

“Because she backed you into a corner!” Rainbow exclaimed. “You were in a death trap, just like the girls in all those movies.”

“We put ourselves in there,” Sunset reminded her.

“And you didn’t want to, did you?” Rainbow asked. “I didn’t pay enough attention at the time, but… you looked ill, when we all talked about getting on the train, and then you were the only one who didn’t really sign up for the whole… sacrifice, thing.”

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured wordlessly. “You did.”

“I wasn’t planning on Applejack getting on the train,” Rainbow explained. “Or perhaps I was just trying to hype myself up after what Salem did to me. It was still affecting you, wasn’t it?”

Sunset closed her eyes. “I could hear her words ringing in my ears, taunting me, telling me that I… that I’d lose everyone. And then Ruby and Pyrrha and Blake, they were all so ready and eager to sacrifice themselves that I… if I looked sick, it was because I was being made sick by them, by how eager they seemed to throw their lives away without a thought-”

“For the people who loved them,” Rainbow murmured. “For the people who would be left behind to wonder why, and what the point of it all was, and whether the world wouldn’t be better off with them still in it.”

Sunset looked at her. “How… or should that be who?”

It was Rainbow’s turn to look away, refusing to meet Sunset’s gaze. Her own gaze swept outwards over Vale, heading towards the setting sun as it disappeared over the horizon. “Looking back… no, not looking back, I mean that if we’d known then what we found out later-”

“With the benefit of hindsight.”

“Yeah, that, with the benefit of hindsight… you were right,” Rainbow said. “Getting on the train was a bad idea. We should have gotten Applejack out and then hustled back to the airship, passed on the warning to General Ironwood via Twilight to get it there faster, and hoped that we made it back to Vale in time for the battle. But we thought that we were only up against the White Fang, and we had a plan to deal with the White Fang.”

“Block the tunnel with the engine,” Sunset murmured.

“Right,” Rainbow agreed. “And then get out again. There were risks, sure, we might not have made it back, but… but there are always risks. Risk… risk is our business. And if it had only been the White Fang we were up against, then it wouldn’t have mattered that the tunnel exits had been sealed off, it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d detonated the mine, because the White Fang could have sat and stewed on the wrong side of the engine until we filled the tunnel up again. But the grimm… once the grimm started to follow that train, it changed everything. If we had known that the grimm were going to come – although maybe we should have seen it coming – I wouldn’t have gone along with the plan. I mean, obviously, the engine didn’t hold the grimm for very long so… what do you think our chances were of getting out of that tunnel alive were if you hadn’t blown up that mine?”

“Ruby’s eyes-”

“We didn’t know that Ruby’s eyes would do that, and we don’t know how many grimm she could have taken out that way, maybe not all of them,” Rainbow replied. “Maybe not enough. And you know that. I don’t think so badly of you that I’d think you’d do what you did for no reason.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Sunset said. “You remember how Ruby got into Beacon early?”

Rainbow nodded. “She fought Torchwick.”

“I was there too,” Sunset said. “And I… when Torchwick took the shopkeeper hostage, I went for him anyway. I was willing to risk that man’s life for the chance to take down my opponent.” She sighed. “Professor Ozpin… he made it pretty clear that I’d made the wrong choice, but… but he told me that I could learn how to be a hero at Beacon, even if I wasn’t one yet.”

Rainbow snorted. “Maybe… maybe there are no heroes,” she suggested. “Maybe there are just… people, trying their best and sometimes… not getting it as right as they’d like to.”

“Pyrrha is a hero,” Sunset insisted. “So is Blake.”

“Okay, I’ll let you have that one,” Rainbow conceded. “Blake is a hero.”

“And a hero, a true huntress,” Sunset murmured, “would have sacrificed themselves, just like they were willing to do, just like they were still willing to do when the threat changed from the White Fang to the grimm.”

“Sacrifice, well,” Rainbow muttered. “We in Atlas like to think that we know about sacrifice-”

“You in Atlas like to think you know about everything,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah, okay, but here’s the thing about sacrifice,” Rainbow went on. “You can only do it once, so you’d better make it count, and you’d better make damn sure that it’s worth it, and if you’re going to send somebody else to lay down their life, you’d better make extra damn sure that it’s worth it because you bet your ass you’re gonna carry that weight!”

Rainbow scrambled up onto her feet, looking down on Sunset even as she cast a shadow over her. “Those guys at Appaloosa, they died for something: they gave their lives so that the evacuation could be completed successfully and all the civilians could get out. They didn’t hold the line just so that everyone could read about the Stalwart Sixth in history books and talk about how brave they were after the fact, about what model Atlesian soldiers they were, they didn’t do it for that! They did it for a good reason! They did it for the only reason worth doing it at all: to save lives. That is… that is the only reason.”

Her chest rose and fell. It was hard to be sure in the fading light, but Sunset almost thought that there were tears pricking at the corner of Rainbow’s eyes. “If you want to get yourself killed for… if you want to give your life fighting a battle that you can’t win to hold empty ground that isn’t worth squat anymore or because you’re too proud to turn and run from a fight or because somebody has filled your head up with so much garbage that you think it’s noble, then… then as far as I’m concerned, you’re no hero. You’re just a selfish ass who can’t think about all the broken hearts you left behind.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. When she spoke her voice was soft and gentle. “Who?” she asked.

Rainbow sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said sharply. “Do you really think that, if you had told Cinder to take a leap, that would have been it? We would have been eaten by the grimm and eventually General Ironwood would have stood down the fleet because it was clear nothing was going to happen?”

“Cinder said it was the only trigger,” Sunset said.

“Oh, come on!” Rainbow snapped. “Use your head! This was Cinder’s plan. This was Cinder’s entire plan! Look around, Sunset, we won! Cinder had one shot, just one. Now the grimm are dead, the White Fang are broken, all of their equipment is lost, everything that she built up is gone, just like that. She’s done now, because this was her shot. Do you really think that she was going to let you throw it away? Do you really think that she was going to risk everything she’d work for, and for what? So that she could see what kind of a person you are?”

“She said-”

“Head games!” Rainbow snapped. “I’ve no doubt she would have let the grimm kill all of us down in that tunnel, but then she would have detonated the mine anyway, even if she had to walk down into the tunnel herself and set it off manually. This was going to happen.”

“Maybe it was,” Sunset agreed, and now it was her turn to climb to her feet. “Maybe you’re right, maybe the breach was inevitable, but… but it doesn’t matter if Cinder was going to do it anyway; she didn’t do it. I did.”

“Because of the position that she put you in, the position that we put you in.”

“The girl has a choice,” Sunset declared. “Nobody forces her to kill the other guy in the death trap; she could choose to let him live and escape. Saving life, isn’t that what you said was the only reason to sacrifice?”

“And I just got done telling you that we wouldn’t have saved anyone!” Rainbow snapped. “You asked me why I was being so nice about this, why are you being so hard on yourself about this?”

“Because I wasn’t thinking about any of that!” Sunset cried. “I wasn’t thinking through the implications, I wasn’t debating the ethics and utility and sacrifice, I was… I didn’t want my friends to die. That’s it. That was my thought. That was my only thought.” She shivered. “I didn’t learn to be a hero; I only learned to be selfish at one remove.”

“You learned to love,” Rainbow corrected. “There’s nothing selfish about that.”

“Doesn’t Adam prove that love can be supremely selfish?”

“Adam didn’t love Blake.”

“I think Adam loved her as much as anyone has ever loved anything,” Sunset replied.

“That’s not love,” Rainbow insisted. “And you’re not Adam.”

“Ruby, Pyrrha, Blake, they all would have made a different choice.”

“A stupid choice,” Rainbow muttered.

“A different choice,” Sunset repeated. “I took that choice away from them.”

Rainbow folded her arms. “A good team leader knows her teammates better than their mothers do and loves them as much,” she said. “The General told me that once, and there was a time when I… when I led Team Raspberry, I knew Applejack, Maud, and Spearhead so well I knew what they were going to have for breakfast before they’d even woken up that morning. I knew them, and I took care of them too: I covered for Spearhead when he started pillaging the weapons marked for disposal for his art projects-”

“What kind of art uses broken guns?”

“I’ll show you if you’re ever in Mantle,” Rainbow replied. “I took the team on an unscheduled field trip to help the Apples with the cider press; I knew there was an area with some cool rocks Maud wanted to look at, so I took a mission in the area and then we stuck around for an extra day so that she could study them. I defied express orders to fall back because I wasn’t willing to leave them behind because, believe it or not, I was a good team leader back then. I was a great team leader. Just like you. You love your teammates, I know that, everyone knows that, you take care of them-”

“Six people are dead,” Sunset reminded her. “Six people are dead, six lives lost, doesn’t that matter?”

“Yes, it matters, of course it matters, but it’s not your fault!” Rainbow insisted. “You didn’t plan this, you didn’t set this situation up, you didn’t send all of those grimm, you didn’t sic that beowolf on those people. We can’t save everyone.”

“It’s not like I failed to save them, though, is it?” Sunset asked. “I caused… their blood is on my hands, even if it is on Cinder’s too. That is the weight that I have to carry.”

“You don’t belong with Cinder,” Rainbow insisted. “You belong here. You’re not a hero like Pyrrha or Ruby… but that’s why they need you.”

“I wish I could believe you,” Sunset said, turning away from the other girl. “It would be so, so easy to believe you, to just tell myself that I did the best I could, that I did what a team leader is supposed to do, to say ‘well, wouldn’t any mother sacrifice the world for the sake of her children?’ And if no one had died, if we had gotten away with it the way that I hoped we would, then maybe I could believe it, but… let me ask you this, do you believe everything that you just said, or are you justifying yourself to yourself, because like me, the only thing going through your head at the time was that you didn’t want Applejack to die?”

Rainbow said nothing, and in saying nothing, she said everything.

“That’s what I thought,” Sunset muttered. Her ears drooped. “Six people,” she repeated. “I saved my team, but I cost Bluebell one of theirs. I can’t just shrug that off.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Rainbow asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “I… don’t know.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter was completely rewritten, although Gilda's part remains the same in spirit even if it is different words.

Cinder's aims for springing the Breach early are revealed, and Sunset and Rainbow have a heart to heart that reflect Rainbow's new, more sympathetic attitude to Sunset's choice.

With this chapter, volume 2 is concluded, and the rewrite will be going on hiatus for... a month to 6 weeks. I'll let you all know when they're going to start back up again. A couple of months ago when I finished writing this chapter I took a break from writing SAPR in order to finish off another fic on this site that I had neglected, so taking a break from posting now gives me time to build my backlog back up.

Every One Thinks Meanly of Themselves (New)

Every One Thinks Meanly of Themselves

Every one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier.

That was a quote by a man who had, amongst other things, compiled the first dictionary. He had never been a soldier himself, so presumably, he spoke from his own personal experience, but it was no longer true. To be truthful, General Ironwood doubted that it had ever been true, even when it was said, but nevertheless, the words had been on his mind somewhat for the last few days.

Since he had seen the look in Twilight’s eyes as she begged him to let her fly Dash’s airship in support of the kids down in the Breach.

Something that he should have noticed, and done something about, some time ago.

There was a lot of that going around at the moment.

Ironwood drummed his fingers on the table. He had let down Twilight, and Penny too. One by allowing her to think meanly of herself, and the other by asking too much of her.

Come to think of it, the latter might equally apply to Dash and to Soleil as well. Had he asked too much of all three of them? Asked too much of them, and not enough of Twilight? And did he need to add Belladonna to that as well? He had asked as much of her as he had of Dash, Soleil, or Penny, and she had less reason to give it.

Well, the only thing to do in the circumstances was to start making it right, as best he could.

He meant to start with Penny and with Twilight, the ones most obviously affected by his poor judgement, then he could speak to the others later, before Team RSPT left for Atlas.

For now, though, he was in his office, waiting upon a visitor.

The door into said office slid open with a gentle hiss, and Ozpin walked into the room. His cane tapped lightly upon the floor.

“Ozpin,” Ironwood said. It was not a surprise to see him – you couldn’t just sneak up onto the Valiant; Ironwood had known he was coming since his Bullhead had requested permission to land in the docking bay – but he was nevertheless surprised that Ozpin was here, and he allowed that surprise into his voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I had nothing else to do, so I thought that I’d come and see you, James,” Ozpin replied lightly. He paused for a moment. “Well, rather, I thought that, since you so often come down to your ship to see me in my office that I might return the favour for once. I must say, it’s a long walk down all of these corridors.”

“It gives me time to have a chair brought in for important visitors,” Ironwood murmured dryly.

Ozpin chuckled as he sat down on the other side of Ironwood’s desk. He gripped the head of his cane in both hands. He swivelled slightly in his chair, so that he was a little side-on rather than facing Ironwood directly.

“I suppose I should congratulate you, James,” Ozpin said softly. “You are the hero of the hour.”

“I command heroes,” Ironwood replied. “I don’t claim that title for myself. The men and women where the metal meets deserve your praise, not me.”

A slightly wan smile appeared on Ozpin’s aged features. “Come, James, we both know that isn’t how this works. When the histories of these last few days are written, yours is the only name that will feature. Future generations will read that it was General Ironwood – and however many of his nameless, faceless soldiers – who stepped into the Breach – or the Breach – and delivered Vale from darkness. The name of the formation, the ships involved may be noted also, but the men and women? The children? All… gone. All forgotten.”

“Considering the names of some of those… children,” Ironwood said, “leaving aside whether we really ought to call them that in view of what they’ve done and been through, I don’t think that names like that will necessarily fade into the abyss of memory.”

“Perhaps in Mistral, they will remember Miss Nikos,” Ozpin allowed, “but is it not the Atlesian way to forget the individual and remember the group?”

“Then why do you assume my name will be remembered?” Ironwood asked.

Ozpin did not reply to that. He didn’t say anything, and a silence lapsed between the two men, stretching out for a little while in the confines of the office. Outside the window, a pair of Skybolts looped past as they made their patrol circuit.

Ozpin glanced down at his cane. “I owe you an apology, James.”

“There’s no need-”

“There is no need,” Ozpin said, cutting him off, “for you to be the bigger man, James. Despite what you may think, I am quite capable of admitting when I’m wrong. And I was wrong. I thought that your forces would be… a dangerous distraction, a hindrance, but… they were necessary. When the grimm came through-”

“When the grimm came through, your students stood alongside mine to hold them back,” Ironwood reminded him.

“Indeed, but it was your airships that sealed the Breach, your androids that covered the retreat of the children and bought time, your soldiers that sealed the perimeter. It is not for nothing that you are acclaimed for the actions of your forces, and so, for that, I owe you an apology. If you had done as I wished and not come, then… I dread to imagine what would have happened.”

“If I hadn’t come,” Ironwood said, “then my children would have been caught up in the middle of this as the grimm ran through the streets of Vale. Which is why I came: so that my ships, my forces, my weapons would be here to support and to protect them when… it was clear that something was going to happen, even if I didn’t anticipate this. I wanted to make sure that when whatever was about to happen happened, that my students weren’t hung out to dry in the middle of it.”

Ozpin smiled thinly. “And here I thought you came to protect Vale, James.”

Ironwood was quiet for a moment. “If it had just been a question of Vale… I would have stayed away when you asked me to before the semester started. I don’t… I don’t disobey you lightly, Oz, I hope you understand that. But with my… my children at stake, I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave them hanging in Vale with all of this going on.”

Ozpin nodded, if only a little. “Your loyalty does you credit,” he murmured, “and as I said-”

“You don’t need to say it again,” Ironwood assured him. “Especially since I’m not the one who deserves to have it said to me.” He paused for a moment. “Oz, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How did Vale get like this?” Ironwood asked. “A military that has no ships on stand-by, whose soldiers aren’t trained to fight outside of a narrow range of conditions, how did it get like this?”

“I believe the phrase is ‘guns or butter,’” Ozpin replied. “In the years since the Great War, Atlas has consistently chosen guns, while Vale has consistently chosen butter. I hope you won’t attempt to suggest that the lot of the average working individual in Mantle isn’t worse than their equivalent in Vale. What Vale lacks in Atlesian technological advancement, I believe it makes up for in its collectivised welfare system.”

A lot of good that will do against the grimm, Ironwood thought to himself but kept it to himself. What he said, in as even a tone as possible, was, “You’ve been on the Council for a long time.”

“As you know,” Ozpin said, “I’ve always trusted in the huntsmen that we train at Beacon as the chief bulwark of Vale’s defences.”

Ironwood had no desire to rub salt in that particular wound, so he asked, “What’s the news from the outer settlements?”

“The grimm continue to wait nearby, without attacking,” Ozpin said.

Ironwood frowned. “Strange.”

Ozpin looked at him. “You think so?”

Ironwood tapped his fingers lightly upon the table. “Let’s assume that the grimm massed – only massed, not attacking – in order to draw huntsmen away from Vale.”

“Indeed,” Ozpin said, “let us assume that; it seems probable.”

“Salem’s plan – or Cinder’s plan, whoever came up with the idea – is pretty clear now,” Ironwood said. “They wanted to draw the huntsmen away from Vale to render it vulnerable to a grimm attack, an attack that they intended to orchestrate using the White Fang as their pawns; they used them to mine the Mountain Glenn tunnel, always planning to unleash a horde of grimm directly into the city – a city that would be denuded of huntsman thanks to the threats to the outlying settlements. Then, when my forces arrived, they decided to try and implant a virus in the CCT that would… well, I didn’t ask Twilight to analyse the virus, only to get rid of it, so I don’t know exactly what it would have done, but I’m guessing that it would have caused havoc with our systems and hindered our ability to respond to the assault. Except…”

Ozpin waited a moment. “'Except,' James?”

“Except, once Cinder was made, why go ahead?” Ironwood asked. “She had to know that we’d inspect the tower’s systems and find the virus, and without the virus, she had to know that the grimm would be attacking directly into the teeth of our defence – hell, she invited us to Mountain Glenn to find out what she was up to, throwing away the advantage of surprise. It was daylight madness to waste all of that build-up and all of her resources like that, so why did she do it? And why are the grimm still threatening the settlements? I understand why they didn’t attack before, but now? Why not withdraw and conserve her forces? Or if force conservation doesn’t matter, then why not attack and see if they can’t score some tactical victories?”

“Valid questions,” Ozpin said. “However, they assume that the campaign has been decided and that all our enemy may hope to accomplish is to win some tactical victories amidst the overall strategic failure.”

Ironwood’s frown deepened. “You don’t agree?”

“I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, James,” Ozpin answered. “You – your forces – are the victors… but don’t let it go to your head.”

“This isn’t a question of letting anything go to my head; it’s a question of winning and losing,” Ironwood declared. “Cinder massacred her own allies in the White Fang; she threw away everything that she spent the past year building up to. All that she had done was leading up to this moment, and she blew it. We won. Her White Fang is gone, her grimm are dead, her route into Vale is shut off.”

“And yet, always, after a while, the shadow forms and grows again,” Ozpin whispered.

“After a while,” Ironwood replied. “It takes time.”

“Cinder Fall was neither killed nor captured,” Ozpin reminded him. “If she had been, then I might agree with you, but she was not. And, as you yourself pointed out, she invited us to Mountain Glenn. She, as you say, threw away the advantage of surprise. I fear the endgame is not yet behind us. I fear this was just another move, part of a strategy we do not yet discern.”

Ironwood bit back a curse. “So what do we do?”

Ozpin was silent for a moment. “We must find a guardian,” he murmured.

“Have you chosen yet?”

“Not yet,” Ozpin murmured. “And besides… they’ve all been through quite enough for the moment.”

“Indeed,” Ironwood agreed, his own voice soft and calm.

“And, since this is not over yet, I would be grateful if you forces could remain here, at least for the time being.”

“Of course,” Ironwood said. “I’m not going anywhere until the Festival is over.” He hesitated. “Oz… don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not the only one who has fallen short of the standards you set for yourself lately.”

Ozpin looked at him. “How so?”

“Twilight,” Ironwood said. “Penny. Penny has been injured on a mission that she probably shouldn’t have been on, and Twilight…” He sighed. “‘EveryoneEvery one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier.’”

“Ah,” Ozpin said. “To be surrounded by huntsmen and huntresses-”

“Bringing her here was a mistake,” Ironwood interrupted. “One which I’ll correct next year; if Apple wants to come back, then she can take up the fourth spot in… Raspberry, again? Perhaps I should try and find a new team name. In any case, making Twilight part of a team was my mistake. There were other ways. Next year, I can find someone else to take that spot, but for now… I just need to make Twilight feel… not so lesser. I’ve always prided myself on my connection to these kids, but I… I didn’t see it happening until it was too late.”

“You and I have had our differences and our disagreements James, but I’ve never doubted your leadership abilities,” Ozpin said. “I didn’t appoint you to be headmaster of Atlas because of your generalship but because… because I thought the students would be lucky to have you. Whatever is needed for Miss Sparkle, I have no doubt that you will find it.”

“Thanks, Oz,” Ironwood said. “I appreciate your confidence. Really.”

A light on the corner of his desk flashed, indicating incoming communication. “Excuse me,” Ironwood said, pressing the discrete button to open a channel to the CIC. “This is Ironwood.”

“Pardon me, sir,” said Lieutenant des Voeux, “but the Valish Council is on the line, requesting to speak with you.”

“Hang on,” Ironwood said, temporarily muting himself. To Ozpin, he said, “Do you know what this is about?”

“No, but that doesn’t surprise me,” Ozpin said. “I’m not in particularly good odour with the rest of the Council at present.”

“I didn’t think I was, either,” Ironwood muttered. He unmuted himself. “Patch them through to my office, des Voeux.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

A holographic image appeared above Ironwood’s desk, a long image displaying the faces of four out of the five members of the Valish Council as they sat in chambers. The room in which they sat was dim, and it was hard to make out their faces; in fact, they were little more than silhouettes, outlined against what little light there was behind them.

However, their voices – or at least the voice of First Councillor Aris – came through loud and clear. “General Ironwood,” she said, “I hope that we’re not disturbing you.”

“Not at all, Madam Councillor,” Ironwood replied, “although I currently have Professor Ozpin with me.”

“Madam Councillor,” Ozpin said courteously.

“That is no trouble,” Councillor Aris replied, although her voice seemed to sharpen at the recognition of the headmaster’s presence. “In fact, it is quite convenient. My apologies for not inviting you to this Council session, Professor, but as you know, four members is a quorum.”

Ozpin said nothing. There wasn’t much to say, at least as far as Ironwood could tell. It was a snub, at best, to have had a meeting behind his back, but at the same time, what good would calling it out do?

Ironwood was more worried about what they had been meeting to discuss. Was it possible that they were so petty that they intended to order him and his ships out of Vale? They had the authority to do so; if they did demand that he leave, it would be very hard for him to stay – as he had cause to lament before, these weren’t his own councillors; he couldn’t just ignore them and dare them to try and fire him if he didn’t like their instructions. If the Valish ordered him out, he would have to do as they said – or risk an international incident possibly leading to war.

Yes, let’s file that under ‘last resort.’

“As you are both no doubt aware,” Councillor Aris continued, “the recent attack on Vale – following the persistent activities of the White Fang – have led to questions, both in and out of Vale, over whether it is wise or proper that the Vytal Festival should go ahead here in our kingdom.”

Ozpin cleared his throat. “Madam Councillor, the Vytal Festival-”

“You have said quite enough already, Professor” Councillor Aris snarled. “A period of silence from you would now be welcome.” She took a deep breath. “Vale has already committed a great deal of money into preparations for the Vytal Festival, and we have every intention of hosting a successful tournament and all the other events surrounding it. To do otherwise, to allow Mistral to host the festival as some in that kingdom have had the gall to propose, would be to concede… to concede too much. No, the Vytal Festival will go ahead in Vale, the Council is committed to that. I am going to ask this once, and I expect a more honest answer from the both of you than you have been wont to give me in the past: do you know of any reason why the festival should not go ahead here in Vale?”

“No, Madam Councillor,” Ozpin said.

Ironwood looked at him over the hologram. Really, Oz? After what we just finished discussing?

“General Ironwood?” Councillor Aris asked.

Ironwood hesitated. Ozpin believed that the situation was not over yet, and his reasons were convincing… but then, they had never planned to postpone the festival in the face of the threat, even when the threat was much greater than it was now. “No, Madam Councillor.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Councillor Aris said flatly. “The Council concurs, but we recognise the importance of confidence, both here and in other kingdoms: confidence in our ability to host a safe and successful festival, confidence in the safety of their visiting students and tourists. Confidence that everything will proceed as it should, with no surprises. And so, for that reason, the Council has consulted with our counterparts in Atlas and decided, General Ironwood, to request that you take over as head of security for the Vytal Festival.”

Again, Ironwood glanced at Ozpin. The old man showed no visible reaction to the slight. “That’s quite an honour, Madam Councillor,” Ironwood said, choosing his words with great care, “but it is custom that the headmaster of the host school is also the head of security.”

“Professor Ozpin sat in his tower while Vale was in danger,” Councillor Aris said acidly. “Do not mistake this as a sign of the Council’s confidence in you, General; I hold you as much responsible for this catastrophe, and for the deaths of six Valish citizens, as Professor Ozpin. But you are, as far as the public narrative goes, the hero of the Breach and the saviour of Vale. News that you are taking personal charge of security will reassure doubters at home and abroad.”

“I see,” Ironwood murmured. “Thank you for your candour, Madam Councillor.” He paused, considering. “I have certain conditions.”

“'Conditions'?” Councillor Aris repeated.

“I want a free hand to act as I see fit without the need for your authorisation and approval,” Ironwood said. “I don’t want you tying my hands anymore.”

“Bloody cheek!” Councillor Aspen barked.

“Aspen, that’s enough,” Councillor Aris murmured. “You ask a great deal, General.”

“You approached me, Madam Councillor,” Ironwood replied. “If you want me to make your festival secure, then I will secure it, but I won’t lend you my name just to give you some credibility.”

Councillor Aris took a moment to reply. “Very well,” she said. “In matters of Vytal Festival security, you may act as you wish, without reference to this Council or anyone else. Congratulations, General Ironwood; we’re all counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down, Madam Councillor,” Ironwood said as he hung upon them.

“That was bold of you, James,” Ozpin observed.

“I’m sick of those people holding me back,” Ironwood grunted. He had still not forgiven the way that Councillor Aris had prohibited him from doing anything to support the students when they had gotten into trouble in the Emerald Forest. “If they want me to run security, then I’m going to do it my way.”

“I have a suspicion that I’m not going to like this,” Ozpin murmured.

“I want to put androids in the grounds of Beacon, and the surrounding area,” Ironwood said. “It’s not the only measure – I’d like to put them on the streets of Vale, but I recognise I still need the Council’s approval for that – but I think it will reduce people’s nerves when they see that the fairgrounds and the school and the coliseum are well-protected. Plus, I’ll be bringing in a third squadron from Atlas, with troops and all other equipment. If there is another move coming, we’ll be ready for them.”

“I hope so, James,” Ozpin murmured, “but now, I will leave you, to address Miss Sparkle’s concerns and to plan security for the Festival.”

He rose to his feet. Ironwood did likewise, saying, “Thanks for coming, Oz. It was good to talk to you.”

“Likewise,” Ozpin said, turning away. His cane tapped on the floor as the door slid open.

“Oz,” Ironwood said to him, making Ozpin turn and look back. “You still have my respect.”

Ozpin did not reply, nor by any means offer any acknowledgement of the general’s words. He simply turned away and walked out of the office to where a young officer was waiting to escort him back to his airship.

The door slid closed again. Ironwood stood, casting a shadow across his desk, looking at the door without really seeing the door.

Now, he had to find something to say to Twilight.

Last year, over break, Twilight had spent some time volunteering at the hospital in Canterlot. Specifically, she’d volunteered at the hydrotherapy pool there: taking names, collecting the dues, making the tea, making sure that nobody drowned. Most of the people who came in to use the pool were sweet old folks, like Applejack’s Granny Smith, whose legs or knees or hips might be starting to go and who needed the supported exercise in a way that water could provide. But there was this one boy, or a young man… he’d been in a car accident that had left him completely paralysed. His mother, his sister, and two paid carers had brought him in each week in a large, cumbersome wheelchair, and each week, they had gotten him into his swimming trunks and manhandled him onto a stretcher, which was then picked up and lowered by a hydraulic arm into the water, where he floated in their chair, moving him gently over the surface of the shallow pool, moving his arms and legs to stave off muscle atrophy, moving him so that he could feel movement, could feel for a moment that he was not confined to that chair.

He never talked, he couldn’t, but Twilight remembered him; she remembered him enough that she had some sketches of a bodysuit that would connect directly into the cerebral cortex and allow people like that to move around under their own will, the suit obeying them in ways their arms and legs no longer would.

Mostly, she found that she remembered his face; no, she remembered his eyes, the way they looked at her, the way they looked out at the world.

The eyes of a prisoner, trapped in his own body, unable to escape. Helpless.

Penny’s eyes were just the same now, as she lay on the table in the workshop that had been set aside for her aboard the Valiant. Her face was frozen, her whole body was frozen; she had been disabled pending total repair. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak; only her eyes could move. And those green eyes stared up at Twilight with that same helplessness that she remembered so well from the paralysed boy.

Like him, she was trapped by her own body and its faults.

Unlike him, Twilight had more to offer than sketches and ideas that might not amount to anything. She plugged a cable, running into a computer on a desk in the corner of the workshop, into the socket on Penny’s hair-bow. She smiled. “I’m sorry about this, Penny. Just give me a second, okay?”

Penny did not look reassured by this. She looked no less helpless, no less a prisoner; the look in her eyes was no less imploring.

And no less uncomfortable to look at.

Twilight turned away, crossing the workshop in two brisk strides to walk to the computer. “Trust me, Penny, just a second. Okay,” – she began to type – “your speech centre was scrambled by the attack, but if I can connect directly to your core processor and then re-route…” Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Yes, that’s right; bypass speech centre and connect directly to external… and done! At least I hope it is.”

“Does this mean I can talk again?” the voice that emerged from the computer’s speakers was not Penny’s voice. It was mechanical, and very obviously so, and rather masculine in its depth besides. But it was a voice, and Twilight could hear it. “This is wonderful! Wait, why do I sound like this? Why don’t I sound like me?”

“Because your voice is not innate to your being, Penny,” Twilight explained. “You have, in your throat, what are essentially artificial reproductions of vocal chords designed to serve the same purpose: to generate sound. Your father, and Uncle Pietro, selected those vocal chords; they chose the pitch and range of your voice to suit their own preferences. You sound… you sound like your father wanted his daughter to sound like.”

Put like that, it sounded a little controlling, but what alternative was there? Nobody got to choose their own voice, after all – if she had, Twilight would have chosen to sound a lot more like Rarity – and Penny was no worse off in that regard than anyone else just because her voice had been deliberately selected rather than being random.

In fact, in as much as her voice had been selected, one could argue she was better off than some people who ended up making some rather unfortunate sounds.

“This computer,” Twilight continued, rallying after that brief moment of hesitation, “doesn’t have vocal chords, and although the speakers can produce a range of sounds, to produce a replica of your voice would require a lot more programming than I’ve had time for or will have time for before we get to Atlas.”

The holographic emitter next to the computer stirred to life, and a hologram of Twilight appeared. Well, no, it was not quite Twilight Sparkle; it was… it was Twilight Sparkle as she sometimes wished she was, and not just because she wasn’t wearing glasses: more confident-looking, with a stronger pose and better posture; more beautiful, too, with long straight hair falling down past her waist like the heroine of a romance comic.

Midnight, for it was she, said, “You did experiment with several different voice programs during my creation, and I still have them in storage. I could transfer them to the terminal, and Penny could pick one she likes.”

“Well, when I did that-” Twilight began.

“What kind of programs?” Penny asked.

“You could sound like Applejack, whoo-ee!” Midnight declared, slipping smoothly out of her own voice and into Applejack’s distinctive drawl. “Let’s round-up them long-horn steers and then get the rest of the chores done. Or you could sound like Rarity, darling, oh, isn’t that fabric just delightful?”

“Yes, thank you, Midnight!” Twilight squawked sharply. “I think Penny gets the idea.” She laughed nervously. “I… I thought, when I was programming Midnight, that it might be nice if my wisdom and advice came from a friend. After all, my friends are all the best parts of me, so it made sense in my head if Midnight should sound like one of them. Still beside me, still giving me helpful hints on what to do. But, the more I thought about it, the more I worried that it would seem like, I don’t know, seem disrespectful, or maybe like I was making fun of them. So I decided to go with something… like my voice, but with a mechanical filter on it so that it didn’t sound like me.”

“I see,” Penny replied. She was quiet for a moment. “I’d kind of like to sound like Pyrrha, or maybe Sunset, but I don’t want to seem rude or disrespectful either. I think I’ll just stick with this.” She paused for a moment. “How is Ruby?”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “It’s… nobody’s quite sure, Penny. She’s still in the hospital; she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“But she’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”

Twilight hesitated. “I… we all hope so. Study of magic is… non-existent, but it seems that her powers shouldn’t have any harmful side-effects, so on that basis… the odds aren’t bad.”

“That… that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Penny, that’s good,” Twilight replied. At least, I hope it is.

“And everyone else is okay, aren’t they?”

“Well… the Breach was not without casualties,” Twilight admitted, “but Pyrrha’s fine, and Sunset and Jaune and Rainbow and Ciel, so I suppose, from that perspective: yes, everyone else is okay.” She smiled. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“Do you think they’ll come visit me?” Penny asked in that new and unfamiliar voice.

“If they do, they’ll hear you like that.”

“Pyrrha won’t care,” Penny declared. “She didn’t care when she found out I was a robot; she won’t care that I sound like this.”

“Then I’ll have Rainbow ask them to come,” Twilight promised.

“Thank you,” said Penny.

The door opened. It was locked, with a code to which only a few authorised personnel had access to, but it was still something of a surprise when General Ironwood walked in.

“General?” Twilight said.

“Salutations, sir,” Penny greeted him with all the enthusiasm of which her temporary voice was capable. That wasn’t much, but it was the thought that counted.

General Ironwood blinked as the door slid shut behind him. “Penny?”

“Yes, sir; Twilight fixed up a way that I can talk. It doesn’t sound like me, but at least you can understand what I’m saying.”

General Ironwood glanced at Twilight, who let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid it’s the best I could do at short notice, sir.”

General Ironwood chuckled. “If Penny doesn’t object, then who am I to object?” He walked around the workbench on which Penny lay, until he was standing on the other side of her from Twilight. He reached out and took her hand. “How do you feel, Penny?”

“I can’t feel you holding my hand, sir,” Penny said, “but don’t let that stop you.”

A smile crossed the General’s face briefly. “Alright,” he said, and his voice was so gentle that he might have been putting a young child to bed for the night. “I’m sorry, I just… old habit, I guess.” Nevertheless, as Penny had requested, he did not let go of her hand. “But how do you feel?”

“I don’t feel much,” Penny admitted. “Except… kind of embarrassed. I’m sorry I let you down, sir.”

“You haven’t let me down, Penny,” General Ironwood assured her. “I am the one who let you down, and I’m sorry for it.”

“Sir?” Twilight and Penny said at once, and Twilight was sure that if Penny could have expressed her emotions normally, she would have sounded as disbelieving as Twilight did – as disbelieving as Twilight felt.

“I shouldn’t have sent you into Mountain Glenn,” General Ironwood declared. “I asked too much of you too soon. You were… created to do great things, and I believe you will, but the reason why I had you enrolled in school, the reason I want you in the Vytal tournament, the reason why you aren’t already out on the battlefield is the fact that you still have so much to learn. You and Dash and Soleil… I should have thought less of your courage than of your inexperience. I didn’t, and I placed too much on you before you were ready.”

“But I still-”

“When a mother bird pushes her chicks to fly too soon, and they fall from the branch to the ground, where does the fault lie, Penny?” General Ironwood asked. “With the young chick whose wings simply haven’t grown big enough, or with the mother who ought to know enough to realise that?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “Does this mean you’re my mother, sir?”

General Ironwood chuckled. “It means I should have known better, Penny. Now, I’m sure that there are lessons that you can learn from what happened to you down in Mountain Glenn, and I want – I expect – for you to take those lessons to heart, but I don’t want you to be discouraged or disheartened, I don’t want you to think that this reflects on you in any way. Will you promise me that you won’t do that?”

Penny took a moment to say, “I’ll try my best, sir.”

General Ironwood nodded. “You’ll grow stronger, Penny. Remember that, and remember that you are not a failure. Remember it, and don’t let anyone tell you different, not even your father. Especially not your father.” He placed Penny’s hand gently back on the workbench, and only then did he release it, rather than letting it fall to the surface with a thunk. He straightened up and looked Twilight in the eye. “I think that I owe you an apology as well, Twilight.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “What… what makes you think that, sir?”

The General’s expression didn’t alter. “How long have you felt… how long have you thought meanly of yourself?”

Twilight recognised the quotation to which the General was referring. “How did you know, sir?”

“I finally recognised it from the look in your eye when you asked to fly during the battle,” General Ironwood said. “I probably should have done something about it after the incident in the tower, if not before. When did it start?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “On the train.”

General Ironwood frowned momentarily. “You should have said something.”

“You would have patted me on the head and told me not to worry about it, sir,” Twilight said. “Like you’re about to do now,” she added.

General Ironwood did not, in fact, move to pat her on the head. In fact, he didn’t do or say anything. He just stood there, looking at her, his blue eyes looking rather sad.

So much so that Twilight absurdly started to wonder if she ought to apologise.

“Twilight?” Penny asked. “What’s the General talking about? Why do you… think meanly of yourself. Is that what you said, sir?”

“Yes, Penny, I did,” General Ironwood replied. “An old quotation: Every one-“

“'Every one thinks meanly of themselves for not having been a soldier,'” Twilight said softly, cutting the General off.

“Twilight,” Penny said. “Is that true? Do you?”

“Shouldn’t I?” Twilight asked. “What have I done? Nothing!”

“You helped make me,” Penny pointed out. “Or do I not count because I haven’t done anything yet either?”

Twilight winced. “No, Penny, that’s not what I-”

“If you thought about it for a moment, Twilight,” General Ironwood said, “you’ve done more than any of us.”

Twilight frowned. “Sir?”

“You uncovered Cinder’s treachery,” General Ironwood reminded her. “You uncovered the virus that she planted in the CCT; you brought back warning about the coming attack.”

“But that… anyone could have done that last one, sir.”

“Perhaps they could,” General Ironwood allowed, “but how do you think the Breach might have gone if our androids had turned against us, or if, thanks to that virus, we’d lost communications, or targeting, or even control of our airships? How much worse might things have turned out if Cinder had continued to operate under our very noses? Vale was saved. For the loss of just six lives, Vale was saved, and I will take that, gladly. Vale was saved, and while many people took part in the saving, you deserve as much credit for it as anyone, and more than some. More than me.”

Twilight scoffed. “You’re just trying to make me feel better, sir; you-”

“Anyone could have organised that defence, once they knew what was coming,” General Ironwood said. “Schnee, Rouge, Fitzjames, any competent major or colonel could have done what I did.”

“And anyone with a certain level of expertise could have done what I did, sir,” Twilight pointed out. “I didn’t… I didn’t-”

“Fight?” General Ironwood asked.

Twilight glanced down at her hands. “Yes, sir.”

General Ironwood reached into the breast pocket of his coat. “I don’t keep my sidearm loaded, but I do keep a clip handy just in case,” he said, producing said clip. With his thumb, he flicked one bullet out into the palm of his ungloved hand. “You know what this is?”

“Of course I do, sir; it’s a cartridge.”

General Ironwood nodded. “One of millions produced in the factories of Atlas and Mantle every year, along with every gun to fire these cartridges, and every rocket, and every grenade, and every other weapon that we wield against our enemies. How many of the people who work in those factories, how many of the people who make the cartridges like this one ever see combat?”

Twilight folded her arms. “Few, if any; only those employees who just happen to be veterans.”

“And yet, where would we be without them?” General Ironwood asked. He put the round back in the clip, and the clip back in his coat pocket. With his ungloved hand, he took off the glove that concealed the other, revealing the gleaming metal of his prosthetic. “This was made for me by the Polendina brothers,” he reminded her, “neither of whom have ever served a day in uniform, and yet, they have served Atlas as well as any soldier; more in fact.”

“You’ve made your point, sir,” Twilight murmured. “A little heavy-handedly, but you’ve made it.”

“And so will you,” General Ironwood continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “Once you get your own lab next year.”

“Huh?” Twilight felt as though she must have misheard the General.

“Placing you here was a misallocation of resources,” General Ironwood said. “One that not only wasted your talent – albeit in a way that seems quite fortuitous now – but also damaged your morale. I’m afraid that it’s too late to change the composition of Team Rosepetal before the Vytal Festival, but once the year is out, I’ll make sure that you get your lab in the research division. You can choose a small team, one or two others - or you can work alone if you’d prefer - your own budget, your own projects. Civilian or military applications, just submit it to me, and I’ll evaluate it upon its merits.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. What General Ironwood was offering was… well, it was what every researcher dreamed of. Independence, the chance to pursue their own ideas, the chance to lead their own team, the chance to prove yourself with results, the chance to see the fruit of your own mind turn into something solid, tangible, useful.

She thought about the paralysed young man. With her own lab, her ideas for a suit that could give him a measure of freedom once more need no longer remain sketches and draught notes.

It could be real. It could be real, and it could help.

It could help… so much more than her learning how to be proficient in weapons usage could.

“General,” Twilight murmured. “Are you… are you serious about this?”

“I’m always serious, Twilight,” General Ironwood replied, which, while not entirely true, was certainly belied by his present demeanour. “I’m sorry for not considering how putting you in this environment might make you feel, but I’m certain that once you get back to work, all of this will seem like a distant memory. Chaining you down in an academy was a mistake; you should be free to soar, as high as Atlas itself.”

“I… I will,” Twilight declared. “I promise, I won’t let you down, sir.”

The Silver Swan (New)

The Silver Swan

Although it was still late summer, and fall had not yet crept upon the world, nevertheless, the air was chill and crisp as everyone waited outside the funeral parlour.

It was probably appropriate.

Everyone – everyone bar the Atlas Academy students, Sunset should say; they wore their uniforms – wore black, or something close to it, although it had clearly been a bit of a scramble for some to find something black – or dark grey – that they could wear.

Pyrrha, as it turned out, had a mourning dress, with a high collar that concealed her entire neck, little lace cuffs at the ends of her long sleeves, and an A-line skirt that went down to her ankles, revealing only the black, high-heeled shoes upon her feet. Her face was covered by a black veil, thin enough that it didn’t hide her face completely but thick enough that it did distort the sight of it. She had foregone her usual striking wings of eyeshadow, as well as any other makeup or lipstick that she was sometimes wont to use to enhance her beauty. Only the smell of her hair remained, from the expensive shampoo that she had not replaced just for this one day.

Sunset was, she confessed, a little disconcerted by the fact that Pyrrha had a mourning dress… but at the same time, in light of the present circumstances, it now seemed a very prudent thing to have in her possession. Sunset wished that she had one.

As it stood, she was wearing a plain black top beneath her leather jacket and a pair of dark-coloured jeans upon her legs; she looked, she admitted, less like someone going to a funeral and more like someone who couldn’t decide which subculture they wanted to belong to.

Jaune was wearing his armour, which conveniently covered up the bunny rabbit on his otherwise black hoodie, and had exchanged his blue jeans for black ones that were actually in a much better state of repair than the pants he normally wore; he should wear them more often.

But then, if he’d done that, it might have looked disrespectful to have not changed at all for the funeral.

And as for Ruby… well, Ruby wasn’t able to be here right now.

Sunset shivered in the cool air, and as she shivered, she felt a desire to leave this place.

Everyone was standing in front of the funeral parlour; or at least, everyone who was physically able: Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha of Team SAPR; Weiss, Cardin, Flash, and Russel of Team WWSR; Yang, Ren, Blake, and Nora of Team YRBN – even if it didn’t always seem as though that was the team to which Blake belonged; Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight of Team RSPT; Trixie, Tempest, Starlight, and Sunburst of Team TTSS; Arslan Altan of Team ARBN; Applejack. Everyone who had fought at what the news was starting to call The Breach was here. Everyone who could be here.

Ruby was lying in a hospital bed, comatose, unmoving and unspeaking; Penny was lying in a room aboard the Atlesian flagship, badly damaged and in need of repair. Neither of them could be here today, but everyone else who had been there, everyone else who had fought together to protect Vale from the grimm that had burst out into the centre of the city, they were all there.

They were just waiting upon Team BLBL… what was left of Team BLBL.

I shouldn’t be here, Sunset thought. She felt like a murderer returning to the scene of her crime. Or worse, like the murderer who insinuates themselves into the victim’s family, becoming a friend and a confidante, a tower of strength in their time of grief… a time that they, the killer, have created.

Sunset shuddered. She wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t planning to get any closer to the remainder of Team BLBL than she had ever been.

But all the same, she felt as though she ought not to be here.

But it wasn’t as if she could stay away. She could – and would – stay well clear of all the other funerals, for the five other people who had died as a result of Sunset’s decision to blow open The Breach and save the lives of her friends; she wasn’t some voyeur, to turn up to strangers’ funerals, especially when the strangers were dead in consequence of her decision, but this… this was different. This was Sky Lark’s funeral, a Beacon first-year just like her, someone who had died fighting at the Breach alongside her and everyone else here.

Someone who had died fighting to correct the consequence of Sunset’s decision.

She couldn’t stay away. Not when everyone else was going to his funeral.

It wasn’t as if they could ever know that Sunset was the reason why he had died.

She didn’t… she wished that things hadn’t turned out this way, but at the same time… Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, her face concealed beneath her veil. If she hadn’t done what she had done, if she hadn’t pressed the trigger and set off the mine, then they would be having six different funerals in Vale.

Seven. I make seven. She didn’t count herself as one of the people for whom she had set off the mine, one of the six whom she had saved in exchange for the six who had died, but at the same time, she did count: there would be seven funerals instead of six.

She wished that things hadn’t played out the way they had, she wished that Sky and the others had not died, she wished that nobody had been harmed in The Breach, but she could not take that next step, as logical as it might seem a step to take, and say that she regretted causing The Breach.

Because to do that would be to regret the lives of her friends, to wish them dead, and she… she could not do that. Not for Sky, not for six lives, not for Vale… not even for the world.

Sunset shivered once again. It was ironic, after a certain fashion: her semblance was a sort of empathy, and yet… and yet, she did not care.

No, no, that wasn’t true; she did care… or, well, she was sorry about their deaths, she knew that she had done the wrong thing in causing those deaths, it was just that…

She couldn’t really say what it was. It was all a tangle in her mind. She regretted, and she did not regret. She knew that she had done wrong, and yet, she would not do right if given the chance.

Six people had died. Six lives lost by her action. And yes, Rainbow said that it was likely that Cinder would have carried out her plans with or without Sunset’s cooperation, and she was probably right, but all the same… Sunset had pulled the trigger.

And yet, when she considered the alternative: Pyrrha dead, Jaune dead, Blake dead, Ruby dead, Rainbow dead… it was too terrible to contemplate. It was impossible that she could have made any other choice, impossible that she would now make any other choice.

She had made that choice, she would make that choice, because she loved her friends more than she loved those whom she was sworn to protect.

In Mountain Glenn, on the night before the battle, Sunset had been alone on watch and had found herself admitting – to herself, if no other – that she resented the possibility that her friends might have to die for the sake… for the sake of ordinary people. Of people whom she did not know, of whom she knew little or nothing.

She had wondered then if that was such a terrible thing? If it even rose to the level of injustice? If she was really required to care for those whom she fought to defend?

The Breach, and her choice that had led to The Breach, provided at least some answer: if you didn’t care, then you did not defend.

Except I did. I fought as hard as anyone.

I fought to clean up the mess that I had made.

She had resented the fact that her friends might have to die for Vale, and in consequence, people in Vale had died for her friends.

“I was a carpenter.”

“I was a housewife.”

“I was a butcher.”

“I was a waitress.”

“I was a clown.”

“We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.”

It was… it was an eerie thing, but in Mountain Glenn, in the midst of that grim necropolis, she had imagined the voices of the dead crying out to her, their tongueless mouths given voice once more, and they had proclaimed to her their occupations. The same occupations as those who had perished as a result of her act. And Sky, of course, made six.

Sunset had not sought to visit death or destruction upon Vale, but she had done so in a small degree, because she was not willing to sacrifice for it.

Because she did not hold that Vale was worth the sacrifice, at least not the sacrifice of Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest.

Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest, of course, would not agree with her. Well, Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Blake would not agree with her, and in all likelihood, Applejack would not agree either, although Sunset didn’t know her well enough to put the words into her mouth.

Rainbow Dash agreed with her; in fact, Rainbow seemed less troubled by her conscience in this business than Sunset was. Sunset suspected that she had lost someone, although she wouldn’t say who, and it had soured her on the idea of dying for a noble cause. The only valid reason to cast aside your life, according to Rainbow Dash, was to save a life… and while it might seem that they would have been doing just that, saving Sky and the five others who had perished, that was where Rainbow’s insistence that Cinder would have carried her plans forward regardless came in. Per Rainbow, their deaths would have accomplished nothing; therefore, saving their lives had been the right call, for all that those whom Sunset had saved would not agree.

It was a comforting thought. Sunset wished she could have embraced it wholeheartedly. Sadly, she was clever enough to understand what ‘rationalisation’ meant.

She had not made this choice after considering the balance of probabilities; she had not come to a conclusion after rational analysis. She had… she had acted on impulse, because she loved her friends and would not see them die, certainly not die in the dark with no chance of escape.

It had been a question of us or them, and for Sunset… there had been no choice at all.

That… might or might not make her a bad person; she had acted in her own self-interest – people did that all the time and were not called monsters for it; albeit, their self-interest took less… deadly forms for those around them. Nevertheless, what Sunset had done might not make her a monster… or it might.

Though Sunset would not do right, nevertheless, she could not convince herself that she had not done wrong.

It might or might not make her monstrous. It might or might not make her a wicked person. But it certainly did not make her a huntress. A huntress, a true huntress like Ruby, would have felt – as Ruby would certainly – that there was no choice at all.

A true huntress would have scorned Cinder’s choice and faced their end with courage down in that tunnel.

A true huntress would have gone down swinging… but they would have gone down nonetheless.

The thought revolted her. At first, Sunset had told herself that her impulse had been – at least in part – driven by the effects of their confrontation with Salem, when the dark mistress of the grimm and their ultimate adversary had put into her mind visions of the deaths of all her friends. Perhaps that had had something to do with it, but at the same time, even now at a remove from that experience and from the malign influence of Mountain Glenn… Sunset felt nauseous just contemplating it. To throw away your life, to break the hearts of those who loved you, to leave your parents bereft, the promise of your life unfulfilled, your line ended, and all for what? For the old school spirit? Because it was expected of you, of your position, your line, your chosen occupation? Because it was what you signed up for? Because you should never back down from a fight?

If that was what it meant to be a huntress, then what it meant to be a huntress was… in Equestria, from whence she came, it was understood that everypony possessed a gift to the world, symbolised and represented by their cutie mark. It was not, as it was often simplistically taught to young fillies and colts, simply a matter of what you were good at – after all, a pony could have many talents; Princess Celestia, for example, was a good and wise ruler, a patient and understanding teacher, a scholar, an archmage, and the ruler of the sun, only the last of which was represented in her cutie mark – or even of what you enjoyed doing. It was more than that, deeper than that; your cutie mark represented what you had to give that none other had: no other pony could bring light to the world like Princess Celestia could. Everypony had such a gift, something to offer, something that only they could give, and although the people of Remnant did not have cutie marks – although they were very attached to their personal symbols – Sunset believed that the same principle applied here. If Ruby died, if Pyrrha died, then their gifts would be lost, that which they had to offer the world would be lost, and it would be bereft of all that they might have given had they lived. Sunset didn’t want Blake to go to Atlas, but with her head, she could admit that Blake would probably do very well in the north kingdom, might even rise to high rank and great power. But not if she died, if she perished in a futile gesture, like Olivia refusing to summon aid in Ruby’s book, then all of that promise and potential would be gone.

Which was why in Equestria, they did not consider death something to seek or welcome.

But what about Sky’s promise and potential? What about the gifts to the world of the waitress, or the butcher, or the housewife or the clown or the carpenter?

Well… yes. Quite. That… that was the flipside, wasn’t it?

Sunset was quite aware that if she were on the other side of this equation – if she were Bon Bon, and one of her team had died because of Sunset’s choice – then she would hate Sunset for what she had done; she was aware that her decision was not defensible on a strictly objective set of moral standards. She was aware that, if she were on the other side, she would stop at nothing to make Sunset pay for her actions.

But she wasn’t on the other side, was she? She hadn’t been in Vale when someone else blew open The Breach; she had been down in the tunnel… blowing open The Breach.

Saving her friends.

Condemning Sky.

Proving that whatever else she might be, she was not a huntress.

Then what was she? If she was not a huntress, then… what?

Someone who doesn’t deserve to lead Team SAPR.

That was an uncomfortable thought, to be sure. But one that was hard to deny. Team SAPR was a team of huntresses; if she was not a huntress, then how could she call herself their leader? How could she call herself one of them?

Rainbow said that they needed her, but Sunset wasn’t sure she quite possessed the vanity any longer to insist that was true. If she had ever thought that it was true. She had, after all, taken account of the possibility of her own death and given her voice to Pyrrha in the succession in a letter which, somewhat embarrassingly, Pyrrha had found while Sunset was still alive to have to talk about it. That letter had contained some instructions that were… well, Sunset had planned to be dead before Pyrrha had to duel Yang over possession of Blake like two knights of old fighting for the person they both wanted to marry.

Sunset glanced again at Pyrrha, her face half-hidden behind her mourning veil. Pyrrha was brave, Pyrrha was noble, Pyrrha was kind, Pyrrha was intelligent, Pyrrha came from an ancient line of heroes and of princes; leadership was in her blood. Pyrrha was not a novice to battle, as Jaune was; Pyrrha did not court death as Ruby did. And yet, she did not shrink from it, as Sunset had in the final analysis. Pyrrha would not have pulled the trigger. She would have cast it aside. She would have done so with a heavy heart and mourned the loss of the time that she and Jaune might have spent together, as well as…

Sunset’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt, much like the train where her thoughts dwelt so often and so long. Pyrrha… would Pyrrha have done so? Would Pyrrha have done other than as Sunset had? Ruby would have, for a certainty; if Sunset had waited until Ruby reached the front of the train, then she would have condemned them all to die, and done so with a light heart besides, certain that they were doing the right thing, the huntress thing. But Pyrrha? Pyrrha would give her life for a cause, without a doubt; Sunset did not want to say that Pyrrha would die for no purpose, like Ruby would, nor did Sunset think that she, like Blake, would throw away her life simply to prove to herself that she had the guts to do so, to prove to herself that she was a good person. She would die to protect the world, if she came to believe that it was her destiny to do so, or perhaps she should say that Pyrrha would die to protect the world if that was how she could best fulfil the destiny that was in her choosing. If it had been only her life in balance on the train, then Pyrrha would have given up her life, without a doubt.

But then, if it had been only Sunset on the train, then she might… she hoped that she would have made a different choice. A choice made to save one’s dear friends might not be moral, right, or honourable, but it lacked the edge of craven cowardice that making such a choice to save oneself was immutably imbued with.

But it had not only been Sunset on the train, and it would not – would never – have been only Pyrrha on the train. Jaune had been on the train too, Jaune would have been on the train in any hypothetical where anyone but Sunset faced Cinder’s challenge. Would Pyrrha have had the steel to sacrifice Jaune?

And if she did, was she someone that Sunset could trust to take over the team in Sunset’s absence, if Sunset… if Sunset decided that they were better off without her?

Sunset, to put it mildly, had doubts. Pyrrha was noble and brave and willing to sacrifice herself but did not have Ruby’s… Sunset liked Ruby – Ruby was sweet and kind on a personal level; Sunset loved her like the sister that she never had – but she wasn’t blind to the fact that Ruby’s heart was… it was as though by some magic, she had purged it of all weaknesses. She could love, she could laugh, she could smile, she could form friendships, but none of that mattered in battle, none of that mattered when it came to achieving victory, none of that mattered when it came to the duty of a huntress.

Ruby would have weighed the needs of the many against the needs of the few and judged that the former far outweighed the latter.

And that for a huntress, the choice that Cinder offered was no choice at all.

Pyrrha, Sunset deemed, was not made of such stern stuff. Pyrrha was in love with Jaune, and that love… Sunset might say she loved not wisely but too well, but let’s face it, if you were going to fall head over heels for someone, you could do a lot worse than to fall in love without someone who didn’t have a malicious bone in his body and who treated you like a princess.

Did Pyrrha have it in her to condemn Jaune alongside herself? Sunset didn’t know the answer to that – she would have had to use her semblance in order to confirm it one way or the other – but she suspected that the answer was no. It did not follow logically from that that Pyrrha would have done as Sunset had – she did not have Sunset’s rashness, nor the impulsive single-mindedness that sometimes drove her to take foolish actions that more considered reason might have counselled her against – but Sunset was quietly confident that she would not have blithely condemned them all to death within the darkness of the tunnel.

Perhaps she would have found a better way, a way that saved the team and protected Vale at the same time.

No, Pyrrha was someone in whom Sunset could place her trust, someone whose conduct might benefit from love but who would not be undone by it. Pyrrha was… Pyrrha was the leader they needed, perhaps. The leader they deserved.

Perhaps Sunset ought to go, leave them to it. Perhaps she ought to go right now, leave without goodbyes that would only invite questions, leave before Ruby woke up, as Ruby would wake up, without a doubt.

Except that Sunset didn’t want to leave before she woke up; she wanted to know that Ruby was okay.

But then that would make leaving, if she left, that much harder.

But then… she didn’t know what to do. Or rather, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She knew what she wanted to do: she wanted to stay here at Beacon, with her friends; she wanted to stay at the place that had become home for her. She wanted to stay with those who were most precious to her in all the world.

She wanted to stay here; she just didn’t know if that was… right and proper for her to do so.

Since she didn’t deserve to be a huntress.

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder; she started and was even more surprised when the hand turned out to belong to Rainbow Dash.

Perhaps she ought not to have been surprised. Rainbow, after all, knew what she had done, and although she herself seemed to be taking it all in much better stride than Sunset, nevertheless, she understood what was in Sunset’s mind. She was the only one who did.

She was the only one who got it. The only one who could ever get it, because if the others found out what she had done… the fact that Pyrrha might not have been willing to condemn Jaune would not stop her condemning Sunset.

But Pyrrha didn’t know. Only Rainbow knew, and Rainbow… Rainbow was giving her an easy ride. The self-righteous stuffing had come out of Rainbow Dash in Mountain Glenn, but Sunset was not altogether sure that she preferred this new Dash. Yes, she was easier to get along with, but at the same time… it was just weird, having her be this nice, especially in the face of the arguably worst thing that Sunset had done.

Nevertheless, Rainbow was being nice about it; her magenta eyes were considerate as she asked, softly, “Are you okay?”

Sunset looked past Rainbow Dash; the funeral parlour was surrounded by a graveyard, or at least by markers for the dead – Sunset wasn’t sure that there were bodies buried beneath every one; a lot of people got cremated these days. Nevertheless, she was surrounded by the reminders of death: stones with names and dates and pieces of melancholy poetry engraved upon them, little statuettes of angels or phoenixes.

“I was a carpenter.”

“I was a housewife.”

“I was a butcher.”

“I was a waitress.”

“I was a clown.”

“We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.”

“Not really,” Sunset muttered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I can get that,” she murmured. “It… it’s gonna be okay.”

Sunset looked into Rainbow’s eyes. “You think so?” she asked. Because I’m not so certain.

Rainbow might have meant to reply, but anything that she had intended to say – if she had intended to say anything – was lost as the funeral car arrived. It was not a hearse, there was… there was nothing of Sky Lark to be borne in a hearse, nothing found to prove that he was dead except for the fact that he had not shown up alive, and… and after the fire that the Atlesians had rained down upon the plaza, there was little chance that he would.

Nobody believed that he was not dead. That, after all, was why they were here.

But there was not a hearse. What there was, however, was a black car, the official car, the car for family, carrying within it the members of Team BLBL.

Sunset hadn’t known Sky Lark… at all. She hadn’t known him, she hadn’t cared to know him, she hadn’t known anything about him, but now that he was dead, she had found out that both his parents had predeceased him. Poor guy didn’t have any family other than this team.

They got out of the car. Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch were with them, both having exchanged their usual attire for solemn black. Professor Goodwitch’s green eyes were filled with sympathy as they watched Team BLBL, what remained of it, exit the car.

Professor Ozpin’s expression was inscrutable.

Bon Bon’s face was so pale that she looked almost like a corpse herself; she stared in front of her, scarcely seeming to see anything. Lyra was in tears; they streamed down her face as fast as she could wipe them away with a handkerchief. She and Dove were arm in arm, and Lyra seemed to be leaning on him for support. Dove himself looked… stoic, as if he felt the need to be strong for his teammates.

Or perhaps he just didn’t care as much as they did.

Also emerging from the car was the funeral… director, or officiator, or whatever her official title was, a blonde woman in a top hat and tailcoat for whom they all made way, shuffling aside as she walked to the doors of the red-brick funeral parlour, unlocked the iron-bound wooden door, and opened it up.

The others waited for Team BLBL to lead the way, shuffling inside with slow, unsteady tread, Dove supporting Lyra and Bon Bon looking as though she was scarcely paying attention to where she was going. Nevertheless, they made their way in, and the rest of the students, the rest of those who had fought beside them at the Breach, followed after.

Inside the funeral parlour was not as quiet as Sunset had expected; as they walked in, a wordless guitar song began to play, and Sunset had to assume that it was one of Sky’s favourites. The walls of the funeral parlour were bare and unadorned; wooden pews were lined up row upon row, and teams occupied the pews in their fours or their threes. Team BLBL, of course, sat at the front, with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch sitting across the aisle from them. Then came Team WWSR, and Team YRBN across from them, and then Team TTSS. Team SAPR sat to the rear, joined by Arslan Altan, who otherwise would have sat by herself; Arlsan sat at the end of the pew, nearest the wall, with Pyrrha beside her and Jaune next to her, the two of them holding hands; Sunset sat upon the aisle, while the three present members of Team RSPT sat across said aisle from her; like Sunset, Rainbow Dash took the aisle seat. Ciel bowed her head, and her lips moved silently; Sunset guessed that she was praying.

She would have to pray by herself, because Sunset doubted that prayers would form part of the service.

She wasn’t sure what the service was going to consist of. Had Sky been at all religious? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything about him. She didn’t know how he would wish his passing to be honoured.

Probably, he’d prefer to not be dead, but I screwed that up for him, didn’t I? Sunset thought bitterly.

The woman in the top hat and tails had vanished. There was no one Sunset could see to perform the ceremony. If there was going to be a ceremony. But then, they were here for some reason, weren’t they?

Professor Ozpin got to his feet. He was without his cane on this occasion; as a result, he moved more quietly than usual as he rose, walked forward a few steps, and turned to face the assembled students.

“We are here today to honour Sky Lark,” he reminded them, his voice betraying little grief; Sunset found herself wondering how many such services like this he had attended over the years. Did he remember how many? “Mister Lark gave his life defending Vale from the creatures of grimm and, in so doing, upheld the finest traditions not only of Beacon Academy, but also of huntsmen as a profession, an institution, and a calling.

“Perhaps this ought to be my cue to tell you not to grieve this loss. Perhaps I ought to tell you that we must keep moving forward and not allow ourselves to be slowed down by sadness or the pain of loss. Perhaps… perhaps that would be easier for all concerned, but those of you who knew Mister Lark well would scarcely be human if you could so easily shrug aside your feelings. The fact that we grieve, the fact that we care for one another, the fact that we are driven by emotions rather than the mere biological imperatives, these are the things that set us apart from the creatures of grimm against which we fight, and if we are to prevail against such monsters, it will be because of those same feelings, not in spite of them. So grieve, by all means; it is painful now, I don’t deny it, but that pain… that pain is the sign you have a soul.” He fell silent for a moment. “I… I did not know Mister Lark as well as I should have liked. Certainly, I didn’t know him as well as he deserved, and I have no intention of standing here and pretending to a closeness with him that I did not possess. Therefore, Mister Lark’s team leader, Miss Bonaventure, will say a few words concerning his character. Miss Bonaventure, if you would?”

Professor Ozpin stepped away, a grave look upon his face, leaving an empty space at the front of the hall.

Bon Bon took a moment before she even tried to get up. Once she did get up, she moved with that same shuffling, shambling gait until she stood where Professor Ozpin had stood just a moment ago. She looked down at the floor. Then briefly, she looked up to cast her eyes across the assembled group, then she looked down again as, with trembling hands, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and produced a set of flash cards.

They shook in her hands as she looked down on them.

“‘How… how lucky I am to have… how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard’,” Bon Bon said, her voice trembling like her hands. “That’s, um, that’s Sanders the Bear. Sky loved that. He loved Sanders the Bear, and Countess Coloratura, and dim sum, and he loved to draw.” She smiled. “Or maybe he just liked to draw pictures of me and Lyra, I don’t know.” The smile died, replaced by a choked half-sob as though she had tried to cut it off halfway. “I… I know the things he loved because he was my friend. He was my friend. He was my friend, and now, he’s gone, and it’s all my fault-” The flash cards fell from her limp fingers as she clutched at her face, tears streaming down it.

Dove was on his feet in an instant, crossing the little distance that lay between them, putting his arms around her and pressing Bon Bon’s face against his shoulder. Her body was wracked with sobbing.

“He was my friend,” she sobbed. “And it’s all my fault.”

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. No. No, Bon Bon, it isn’t your fault at all. It's mine.

She felt sick to her stomach. She felt indecent just being here. She should never have come here; it was wrong of her, it was immoral. Yes, it would have been hard to explain her absence, but it would have been better than this. What right did she have to come to Sky’s memorial when she was the reason there was a memorial?

She kept her eyes closed, and her head bowed, and her eyes were still closed when she heard Lyra’s voice, raised in song, eclipse Bon Bon’s sobbing.

“The silver swan, that living had no note,” she sang.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked up. Lyra, too, was on her feet. One hand rested lightly upon Bon Bon’s shoulder. She was half-turned to face the others, half looking away from them, and yet, her voice carried to them all nevertheless.

“When death approached, unlocked her silent throat,

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,

Thus sung her first and last, and sang no more.

‘Farewell, all joys,” Lyra paused, her voice shaking.

“’Farewell, all joys,’” she repeated, before wiping at her eyes with one hand. She closed her eyes, screwing them tight shut, and her hand fell away from Bon Bon’s shoulder.

“’Farewell all joys,’” Weiss sang, her voice as clear as a bell, “‘Oh death, come close my eyes.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.’”

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise, Sunset thought. Sounds about right.

And the goose that thought she was a swan doesn’t deserve to be here anymore.

Confrontation Conversation (Rewritten)

Confrontation Conversation

Ruby was asleep. Or unconscious, it was hard to say which was more appropriate right now. If she was asleep, it was a sleep from which she could not be roused, as though she were waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.

And they had none of those.

That Ruby looked peaceful, almost serene, was something to be thankful for at least. Wherever she was, whyever she couldn’t or wouldn’t wake, she didn’t seem to be in any pain or distress.

The little dog, Zwei, was also sleeping – a true sleep, this time, one from which he could wake up at any time he chose – he presently was curled up on Ruby’s chest, nuzzling her pale cheek with his face, rising and falling with Ruby’s gentle breathing.

Sunset hovered over Ruby’s bed, standing over her, casting a shadow over her and the dog that rested on top of her. She had never enjoyed feeling powerless, and that wasn’t something that was changing now.

Your mother’s diary talked about the exhaustion of using her powers, but this? She never said that it put her into a coma.

If it had… if it had, you probably would have wanted to go ahead and try for it anyway, wouldn’t you? Because that’s just who you are.

Too noble by more than half.

Sunset looked down at her hand. She had removed the finger from her wedding glove: she could now see the skin of her ring finger, while the silken finger of the glove flopped limply down. She had thought about trying to use her semblance on Ruby to try and… well, the fact that she couldn’t properly articulate what it was that she thought that her semblance might be able to do for Ruby was the reason why she hadn’t done it yet. It might – and that was a big ‘might’ – show Sunset where Ruby’s mind was right now, but that wouldn’t help to wake her up. It was for that reason that she pulled the finger of the glove back on.

She would have to trust, as they would all have to trust, that this wasn’t permanent, that Ruby would wake up in her own time, when she was ready to come back to them.

Yang sat on the other side of Ruby’s bed, holding onto Ruby’s hand with both of her own. A look of melancholy which verged on misery haunted her face.

Pyrrha stood at the foot of the bed wearing a grave look; in the way that she stood and the look on her face, one might almost have thought that she was still at Sky’s funeral, save that she had changed out of her mourning dress. Jaune sat in the other seat, opposite Yang, his hands fidgeting upon his knees, as though he couldn’t think of what to do with them. Blake stood against the wall between two of the empty beds in this four-bed room, her arms folded across her chest, a dark look upon her face that had nothing to do with her black hair as her golden eyes were fixed upon Ruby.

Sunset both was and wasn’t sure why Blake looked like that; yes, she’d been through a lot in Mountain Glenn, but then, they’d all been through a lot in Mountain Glenn. Perhaps it was the death of Adam or the death of all the rest of the White Fang – most of them, at least – down in the tunnel between Mountain Glenn and Vale that were eating away at her.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have tried to help her. She had tried, she thought that she had tried, to help Blake with her problems, to help her with what was troubling her, just to help Blake find herself, her place in the world, to help Blake the way that Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune had helped Sunset. It hadn’t seemed to work out quite so well.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have kept trying regardless, but right now… after what had happened on the train, Sunset didn’t think she was the right person to be trying to help Blake through this particular issue.

Better that she focus on Ruby, until Ruby woke up.

Unless she decided that it was better that she slip away before Ruby woke up.

Either way, she wasn’t in much of a position to help Blake right now.

“Is Ruby going to be okay?” Jaune asked plaintively.

“I’m sure so,” Pyrrha said softly.

“You don’t know that,” Yang said, her voice choked. “You can’t be sure.”

Pyrrha glanced away. “No,” she admitted. “No, I can’t.”

“She’ll wake up,” Sunset asserted. She has to.

“But you don’t know that she will,” Yang repeated, with more force than before.

Sunset frowned. “No,” she admitted, “I guess I don’t.” She turned away from Yang and from Ruby. She crossed the ward, passing Pyrrha who looked at her but said nothing, as she went to stand beside Blake.

A sigh escaped from Sunset’s lips.

Blake glanced at her but said nothing. Sunset found herself almost grateful for that fact.

“Does this… does this feel like a victory to anyone?” Jaune asked. “Does anyone feel like we won?”

Sunset didn’t answer, because the personal answer was ‘no.’ Whatever Rainbow Dash might have to say on the subject, this did not feel like a victory. This felt… this felt like a defeat, if only a personal one.

Pyrrha’s voice came slowly at first. “We… we are alive,” she pointed out. “Ruby is alive, and as concerned as we are for her condition, we should not lose sight of the fact that she yet lives.” She turned her head a little to look at Yang as she said that. “She will wake, and return to us. There are far worse fates that could have befallen her, or any of us. We live, and Vale lives too.”

“People died,” Jaune replied, sending a dagger through Sunset’s soul.

“And many more did not,” Pyrrha insisted. “How many more people might have perished if the Breach had caught the city’s defenders unawares, if General Ironwood had not been alerted, if the nearby districts hadn’t been evacuated? We could have been looking at the greatest catastrophe to befall Vale since Mountain Glenn fell.” She took pause for a moment. “I do not mean to dismiss Sky’s loss, or any of those others who perished; I have no doubt that their friends and loved ones miss them as much as Lyra and Bon Bon miss Sky. But the city was saved, and while we did not save it single-handedly through our efforts, without us, there would not have been the warning that enabled the city to be saved. We should take pride in that.”

“Do you take pride in that?” Sunset asked softly.

Pyrrha looked at Sunset over her shoulder. She pursed her lips together momentarily before she replied, “I have but one regret in all of this: that I was not able to defeat Cinder Fall, and either bring her to justice or…”

Sunset’s brow furrowed a little. “Or?”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Or deliver her to the justice of the heavens.”

The frown remained on Sunset’s face, but her tongue was stilled. With only Jaune and Blake as witnesses, Sunset might have been willing to thrash it out with Pyrrha on the subject; it might be said to be in bad taste to argue at Ruby’s bedside, but Sunset and Pyrrha never really did argue, they were so close in outlook – and Pyrrha so unfailingly polite and good-natured… at least when she wasn’t threatening to kill Cinder – that any points of disagreement between them ended up being very… sororal, one might say.

But it would be hard to get into the meat of it with Yang around. Ruby had not, in the end, told her sister about Salem, or any of the things that everyone else in the room knew but her. And since that knowledge was pretty germane to the discussion, it would be hard to talk around them.

And besides, right now… Sunset wasn’t sure she was in the right frame of mind to mount a defence of Cinder Fall at the moment. Cinder had, after all, convinced Sunset to blow the Breach, causing the deaths of Sky Lark and five other people. Sunset… Sunset hated her for that. Or at least, she thought she probably ought to hate Cinder for that. Perhaps a true huntress would swear vengeance upon Cinder, the same way that a true huntress would have condemned their friends to death.

If so, that would be two strikes against Sunset, because she didn’t really hate Cinder for what she’d done. She felt as though she was coming close to hating herself, but she did not hate Cinder. For Cinder, she felt… she couldn’t even really blame Cinder, for all that Cinder’s words had been pouring into her ear at the time. They had been pouring through an open door, after all; Cinder’s words would not have affected Ruby, only someone like Sunset who was susceptible to them.

It would be too easy to blame Cinder for this. By blaming herself instead, Sunset could continue to… to what? What did she want out of Cinder? What did she think was going to happen to Cinder? Why did the idea of Cinder perishing at Pyrrha’s hands arouse such distaste and fear in her?

“What about the cost?” asked Blake softly.

Pyrrha hesitated. “Do you mean Ruby and Penny, or do you mean the White Fang?” she asked in a voice as quiet as Blake’s own.

“It doesn’t matter,” Blake replied. “Forget I asked.”

Pyrrha glanced downward. “I am… not one to cheerlead,” she said, “but we are not without things to be proud of in our performance on this mission. If we fell short of our expectations of ourselves… that suggests that our expectations were too great, our egos not yet curbed by experience.”

“Perhaps,” Sunset murmured.

She was probably right – at least as far as she, Jaune and Ruby were concerned. They had nothing to be ashamed of. As for herself… Sunset knew better.

The door into the ward slid open with a hiss that attracted the attention of Sunset and everyone else in the room too. Rainbow Dash stood in the doorway, still wearing her Atlas uniform.

She looked at Ruby, her chest rising and falling beneath the blanket and the dog.

“How is she?” Rainbow asked quietly.

“She’s… stable, but as you see,” Pyrrha murmured, “she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“And they don’t know when she will?” Rainbow said as she stepped into the room. Sunset appreciated that she had said when, not if. The door slid closed behind her.

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. She glanced at Ruby, and then down at her feet before she looked back up at Rainbow. “How’s Penny?”

“She’s… but she’ll be okay.” Rainbow glanced at Yang, who – much as she was the only person in the room not to know about Salem, was also the only one who didn’t know that Penny was a robot. “She’ll be okay, but she needs to go home for treatment. So we’re shipping out for Atlas; we won’t see you guys for a while.”

“When are you leaving?” Pyrrha asked.

“In a couple of days,” Rainbow said. “We’re flying back on the Hope, escorting a civilian liner.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said softly. She hesitated for a moment. “Could I see her, before you go?”

Rainbow smiled. “Sure,” she said. “Penny would like that. In fact, I was going to mention it if you didn’t; she’s asked after you.” Rainbow glanced at Sunset. “More surprisingly, she asked after you, too.”

Sunset’s eyebrows. “She asked after me?”

“Yep.”

I thought she couldn’t talk yet. And even if she can talk, why does she want to talk to me? It wasn’t as though they were close. As far as Sunset could recall, they had had one interaction that wasn’t simply as part of the wider group, one single instance when they had spoken directly to-

“But I’m not human, am I?”

“Do you want to hear a secret, Penny? Neither am I.”

Oh. Right. Yes. That.

Sunset’s ears drooped. “I… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Sunset?” Pyrrha murmured in surprise.

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue the point. Sunset would have been grateful for that, except that she suspected that there would be arguing of the point to come, just a little later down the line.

Right now, however, Rainbow looked down at the sleeping Ruby. “What she did there was something else.”

“What it did to her was something else too,” Yang muttered.

Rainbow glanced at her. “Sure. I guess. But… she’ll wake up. She’s too tough not to.” She turned away. “Anyway, I came to let you know we’d be leaving and to say goodbye ‘cause we won’t see you now until just before the festival, probably.” She nodded to Jaune. “Take care, Jaune.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You too.”

Rainbow grinned. “I thought I might try taking care of other people instead.”

She looked back at Ruby, and her boots squeaked on the floor as she stood to attention and swept her hand up to her brow in a textbook perfect salute. Rainbow held the gesture for a moment, then brought her hand back down again and wheeled – with more squeaking of boots – to face Blake.

She marched across the room until the two of them were face to face.

“Blake,” Rainbow said. “Applejack and Fluttershy are flying back to Atlas as well, aboard the civilian skyliner that the Hope is escorting to Atlas. If… if you wanted to say goodbye.”

Blake nodded. “I will; thank you for letting me know.” She blinked. “I’m a little surprised they’re not flying back on the Hope where you can keep an eye on them.”

Rainbow let out a snorting chuckle. “It did cross my mind, but I won’t be far away. And… maybe it would be a borderline case for Applejack, but it would be hard to get a berth for a civilian aboard a man of war; there isn’t a lot of space. Plus, the rooms are more comfortable on a skyliner, and I think they deserve that.”

Blake nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” She hesitated. “Rainbow-”

“Blake,” Rainbow cut her off, “your agreement with Atlas, in which we agreed to, well, to keep you out of jail, was that you would help us until the threat of the White Fang had been dealt with. I’ve spoken to the General, and he agreed with me that we can call the threat of the White Fang dealt with.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Is she-?

Blake blinked rapidly. “What… what are you saying?”

“The White Fang bet the farm on this,” Rainbow declared. “All the robberies, all the dust, all the weapons, it was all building up to this. And they blew it. They used up all the dust, they used up all or most of the weapons they stole from us, and they lost most of their manpower. They had their shot, and now they’re done. The power of the White Fang is broken here in Vale; this will take them years to recover from materially, and that’s without mentioning how bad they made themselves look by letting grimm loose in the city. They’re done.”

“Cinder-”

“You didn’t agree to help us get Cinder,” Rainbow said. “You agreed to come and work with us to stop whatever the White Fang were planning. And we did, and you were a part of that.” She took a deep breath. “Atlas isn’t perfect, but it keeps its word. Or at least, the military does. The General does. I do.” Her voice became hoarse as she said, “You’re free, Blake. You’re not bound to me, or Atlas, any longer.”

Blake stared up into Rainbow’s magenta eyes. “Free? Is that…” she glanced at Ruby, sleeping in bed, and her gaze dropped. “Free. Right.”

“That’s right, you’re not… you don’t have to… I won’t… you’re free, like I said. You’re not bound to us any more, you don’t have to have another thing to do with any of us,” Rainbow conceded. “Oh, except for one thing: General Ironwood would like to see you. One last debriefing.”

“Of course,” Blake sighed. “I suppose that that… is about as much as I should have expected.” She held out her hand. “Goodbye, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow took Blake’s head, and shook it firmly. “Blake, I… meeting you, I... I hope you’re happy.” She looked awkward, her body tense and shifting uncomfortably, and when she looked at and spoke to Sunset the relief in her voice was palpable. “Hey, Sunset, can I talk to you for a second? In private?”

Sunset raised one eyebrow, even as she gestured towards the door. “Sure.”

They both stepped out of the ward, the door hissing closed behind them, and stood for a moment in the corridor outside. It wasn’t exactly private; there was a nurse’s station not far away with a nurse at it. Rainbow took the lead, making Sunset trail behind her down the corridor until they came to a pair of vending machines – a free dispenser of tea and coffee, and a brightly lit provider of canned drinks that you had to pay for – standing idle and unattended, with nobody in sight in either direction.

Rainbow gestured to the machines. “You want something?”

Sunset glanced at the bright green can machine. “No.”

“Suit yourself,” Rainbow said, tapping a couple of the buttons on the free tea and coffee machine to get a cardboard cup filled with something hot and brown and otherwise indeterminate. Rainbow took a sip from it and licked her upper lip when she was done. “So, why don’t you want to go and see Penny?”

“Why are you acting so weird around Blake?”

“That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Maybe we should talk about it,” Sunset replied. “You’ve been clinging on Blake like a… a really clingy thing this entire time and now all of a sudden you’re throwing her away-”

“Nobody’s throwing Blake away.”

“You could only be throwing Blake more away if you told her to have a nice life!” Sunset snapped.

“You were the one who told me to-”

“I wanted you to be a better team leader, not a jackass!”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “I’m doing what’s best for Blake,” she said. “I’m… I’m putting her ahead of myself and Atlas. I thought you’d be glad.”

“Well… I’m not,” Sunset muttered.

“And I’m not happy you don’t want to talk to Penny,” Rainbow replied. “At least I have my reasons, do you?”

“Does it matter?” Sunset asked. She took a step forward. “I mean, it isn’t like she can talk back at the moment, right?”

“Actually, she can… sort of,” Rainbow muttered. “She’s plugged into… you’ll see for yourself when you come and see her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sunset said.

“I do; I think it might cheer you up a little,” Rainbow said. She glanced at the nurse, who didn’t seem to be paying much attention. She also glanced at the storage closet not far away. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

“Do we need to go somewhere more private?”

Rainbow glanced this way and that. She drank, and then stepped a little closer to Sunset until they were almost touching.

“Okay, we might need to go somewhere private where this is going,” Sunset said.

“Shut up,” Rainbow replied. She looked down at Sunset. “So…” She looked away. “So what’s this about you not being human?”

“Well, I am a faunus.”

“You know what I mean!”

“And you know what I’ve got,” Sunset said. “Did it never occur to you that I might be… from somewhere else?”

“No,” Rainbow said immediately. “That would be…” She trailed off. “So it’s true, then?”

Sunset nodded. “It’s true.”

“Right,” Rainbow murmured weakly. “So are you going to tell me-?”

“No.”

“Right,” Rainbow repeated. She gestured at the room they had left. “The others, do they-?”

“Yes.”

Rainbow snorted. “I guess I know where we stand then,” she muttered, a quick smile crossing her face. The smile faded. “So… this place you come from… are you going back there?”

“No,” Sunset said instantly. “No, I’m not.” I don’t deserve to go back.

“Good,” Rainbow said. “You’re staying here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, where else are you going to go?” Rainbow demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted.

“Then stay,” Rainbow urged. “Stay here, stay with them. They need you.”

“They don’t need me.”

“Who’s going to be leader if you walk off into the wilderness and become a hermit?”

Sunset raised one inquisitive eyebrow.

“You just admitted you’ve got no ideas; I had to come up with something.”

Sunset sighed. “Pyrrha,” she said. “She’ll take over.”

Rainbow shook her head. “Pyrrha’s a bad choice.”

“Oh, because you’re such an expert on what makes a good team leader,” Sunset said acidly.

Rainbow ignored that. “Pyrrha,” she said. “Pyrrha’s great, but she… she wouldn’t take care of the others the way that you do.”

“What makes you say that?” Sunset asked.

“Because she hasn’t taken care of them, you have,” Rainbow pointed out. “I… I haven’t always appreciated how you chose to do it, but you’ve always tried, and it… it seems to work out for you, and for them. You’ve kept them safe, and happy.”

“At what cost?”

Rainbow frowned. “You know as well as I do that if we had made all the right moves down in Mountain Glenn – by which I mean pulling out of the railyard once we rescued Applejack and falling back to join Professor Goodwitch on The Bus – then that wouldn’t have saved Sky or the others.”

“You know what I mean.”

“What I think is that the reason you don’t want to talk to Penny is that you don’t think you deserve nice things,” Rainbow declared. “Which is also the only reason you’re thinking about leaving, because there are no actual good reasons for it. What do you think is going to happen if you quit? Do you think the missions are going to stop? Even if he lets you out, do you think that Ozpin is going to stop sending Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby out like he sent us out to Mountain Glenn? If you want someone to blame for what happened, then how about you blame the person who decided that it was a good idea to send two first-year student teams on a mission-critical recon assignment?”

“Which we volunteered for.”

“We’re kids,” Rainbow said. “We’re allowed to make dumb choices. Our superiors are supposed to be a check against that, not enable it.” She finished off her coffee and tossed the cup into the green recycling bin. “I asked the General, before we left, why this mission was going to us and not some real Specialists. He told me that Ozpin didn’t like Specialists; he preferred to trust students. If you want to blame someone for the mistakes of this mission, how about the person who thought that was a good idea? Do you remember when we told the others about what we’d heard up in the tower? About… you know.”

Sunset nodded. “I remember.”

“Pyrrha said that we had reached the end of vanity,” Rainbow reminded her. “But that wasn’t really true, not in that garage. If it had been, then we wouldn’t have volunteered for Mountain Glenn. That’s where we reached the end of vanity. We shouldn’t have been there, and that’s what my report will say to the General.” She paused. “My point is… you walking away won’t bring anyone back from the dead, but it might just mean that the next memorial service is for Pyrrha.”

Sunset scowled. “That’s a little below the belt, don’t you think?”

“No such thing as below the belt if it works,” Rainbow said. “You should talk to Penny. She’d really appreciate it, and I think that you’d enjoy it too once you did it. You and Pyrrha could go together.” She paused. “Just don’t do that thing where you start talking weird like you’re doing old-time theatre. You realise you’re the only two people who can understand each other when you talk like that, right?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not worried I’ll be a bad influence on her.”

“I’m not sure that it’s possible to be a bad influence on Penny,” Rainbow replied. “She’s too much of a good influence on everyone around her. Please go and see her; she’ll be hurt if you don’t. She won’t understand why.”

That was unfortunately true. Sunset pouted. She didn’t want to upset Penny, and if Penny wanted to see her, then… “Fine.”

Rainbow smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. “Thanks,” she said. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The big changes here are that Blake is not injured, and Rainbow's attitude if flipped on its head, instead of forcing her to come to Atlas using Blake's agreement, she releases her from that same agreement.

Never Without You (New)

Never Without You

Pyrrha had been here before.

Not ‘here’ upon the roof of the hospital on which she stood, her glove-enclosed arms resting upon the iron rail that ran atop the low wall which encompassed said roof, but here as in this situation.

When Sunset had been caught in that explosion, she had been here, waiting for her to wake up, waiting as she lay unconscious in bed, waiting powerlessly for some sign that she would wake.

Now it was Ruby she was waiting for, and she had liked it no better than she had enjoyed waiting for Sunset.

In fact, she found that having been through it already seemed to make it harder to bear a second time round.

That… perhaps that was why she was up here on the roof. Or perhaps she had simply felt too awkward to remain in the room with Yang.

With Sunset, she had been alone. With the threat of the White Fang still looming over them, Professor Ozpin had ordered Jaune and Ruby back to Beacon for their own safety, only allowing Pyrrha to remain when she had invoked Mistralian honour to win the right. Pyrrha wasn’t sure if being alone – save for flying visits by Blake and Rainbow Dash – had made it easier for her to stay in the room with Sunset, trying to read from the Mistraliad, mentally wincing at the absurd note that Sunset had written in case of her death – a duel with Yang over Blake, of all things! – waiting, hoping, keeping an eye on Sunset constantly for the moment when her eyes would open.

Perhaps it had been easier alone. But the White Fang were defeated now – that was their victory, or at least a victory in which they had played no small part; it might not feel like a great triumph to Blake, but nevertheless, it was something that they could point to as an accomplishment – and with that danger passed, that shadow lifted; as many people were free to stay at Ruby’s bedside as they wished. Yang, of course, Sunset and Jaune, and Blake as well.

It was Yang who… that was rather unfair of Pyrrha to think it. Yang was Ruby’s sister; she had every right to be there. Perhaps it was simply the way that the elder sister seemed to hold them all responsible.

Or perhaps it was just that Pyrrha felt responsible and blamed Yang for the feeling when the other girl was blameless.

Certainly, retreating out of the room and coming up onto the roof hadn’t made her feel any better.

The only difference was that she felt like a coward.

The wind kissed her face, albeit a little less gently than Jaune, and blew through her long red ponytail, brushing her hair this way and that, threatening to send it billowing out behind her in a long tail, although not quite achieving such a thing. It rustled at the teal drops that hung on golden chains from her circlet, sending them tapping at her cheeks as they bounced this way and that.

Pyrrha ignored the sensation, leaving her aura to prevent too much discomfort as she leaned upon the metal rail and looked out.

Vale was spread out all around her, the busy ambulance bay before the doors giving way to the mundanity of the parking lot which, in turn, yielded to the rest of the city rising all around, the great towers rising to touch the sky mingling with the modest brownstones and the red-brick terraces.

It was not so easy to see Vale as it was to see Mistral; it wasn’t just a matter of standing reasonably high up the slope and looking down the mountain, but nevertheless, Pyrrha fancied that she had a good view of the city. If she could not see it all, then she could nevertheless see enough.

It seemed so large, and in its size, it seemed, as many large things did, to be permanent, impervious to harm… impregnable. And yet, this vast city, the heart of an even larger kingdom, had been thrown for a moment into the most grave peril.

A peril from which it had, nonetheless, escaped. Pyrrha’s green-eyed gaze drifted upwards, following the rising skyscrapers up into the clouds. The sky was filled with them, so much so that it was on the verge of becoming overcast, and yet, between the clouds, she could yet catch glimpses of General Ironwood’s mighty warships, their lights blinking upon their dark hulls like stars in the night sky, as they moved above the clouds like leviathans of the air.

Some of the smaller airships descended beneath the clouds, the better perhaps to see what was happening in Vale itself, flitting about the skyline on patrol, their eyes ever watchful.

The battle was won, but it was said that General Ironwood was summoning reinforcements nonetheless; the Valish Council had invited him to take over security for the Vytal Festival, and it seemed he meant to make it very secure indeed.

Pyrrha wondered if anyone else was asking themselves what, with the threat of the White Fang having diminished into nothing and the grimm having already been slaughtered in great numbers, the festival needed to be secured from.

She knew of course. Cinder Fall yet lived. Salem would outlive them all, and the mistress of the grimm might yet gather more of her dark creatures to launch yet more assaults upon the lights of civilisation, while her dreadful acolyte plotted and schemed to achieve… whatever ends had made her side with such a monster.

They yet had need of General Ironwood’s protection.

Without the Atlesian forces, without those leviathans of the sky, without the androids and the airships, Vale… there might not be a Vale to host the Vytal Festival. When the grimm poured out of the breach, it had been, in the end, the overwhelming fire of Atlesian warships that had stopped them.

It had taken a vast army to save a vast city.

Pyrrha looked down, her gaze falling in parallel with the wall to reach the ground beneath. No one looked up at her.

She wondered, if anyone was to look up, how small she might look from down there.

As small, perhaps, as Ruby looked in that hospital bed, or smaller still.

A frown creased Pyrrha’s features, her brows furrowing beneath her circlet. Would Ruby wake? With good fortune, she would. Sunset had woken, after all, and Sunset had been in worse shape.

She thought so, anyway. Perhaps, at least. It was hard to tell. It was impossible to say for sure. Sunset had been injured in an explosion, which was terrible but at least understood; Ruby had been affected by her own magic.

Magic. Before this year began Pyrrha would not have believed in such a thing. But now, there was Ruby’s magic and Sunset’s magic and Salem and Relics and-

“There you are,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha half-turned, looking around to see Sunset standing in the doorway that led up onto the roof – or back down into the hospital. Sunset let the door swing shut behind her with a dull thud as she walked across the black roof, the slightly springy substance it was made of lending a bounce to her step that hardly seemed to suit the look on her face as she approached Pyrrha at the roof’s edge.

The breeze rustled through her long mane and through her tail alike as she came to stand by Pyrrha’s side, resting her own gloved hands lightly upon the metal rail. “Hey,” she said.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset. “I know that I shouldn’t have left Ruby-”

Sunset raised a hand to cut her off. “It’s fine,” she said. “Ruby… it’s fine.”

“If she wakes up and I’m not-”

“She’ll understand,” Sunset assured her. She paused. “Would you mind if I tagged along to see Penny?”

Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. “Is that what you and Rainbow talked about?”

Sunset nodded. “Pretty much. If she wants to see me, then… I don’t have much excuse for staying away, do I?”

Pyrrha’s smile widened just a tad. “We will go together then… in place of Ruby.”

Sunset shook her head. “For ourselves,” she said.

Pyrrha considered that for a moment. “For ourselves,” she agreed. “To comfort a friend is something which we may do, at least.”

Sunset frowned. “'At least'?”

Pyrrha took a moment to reply, turning her gaze away from Sunset and once more casting it out across Vale. “It’s huge, isn’t it?”

Sunset looked out too, her own eyes taking in all of the city that could be seen. “Yes,” she said, her voice growing a little hoarse. “I suppose it is.” Her equine ears drooped down a little, for no reason that Pyrrha could tell.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “It is now believed by some archaeologists and scholars that during the time of the Mistralian War, the time of the Mistraliad, the city of Mistral was only around the size of the city’s railway station.”

“How big is that?” Sunset asked. “You never showed us the station.”

“It is not small,” Pyrrha allowed. “Unlike Vale, Mistral has only one station serving the whole city and every conceivable destination, but nevertheless, compared to the size of Mistral – or Vale now – it is rather small.”

Sunset considered that, or seemed to. She grinned. “I bet Old Mistral did more for human happiness than a train station ever did.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha acknowledged. It had given them the Mistraliad, after all.

“Although one shouldn’t underestimate trainspotters.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a snort escaped her. “Sunset!”

“I know that you’re making your way towards a solemn point,” Sunset said, “but that doesn’t mean that we have to be solemn every step of the way to get there.”

Pyrrha half-turned to better face her friend, the kind of friend she had never expected to find but who, perhaps, understood her better than anyone. “What makes you think my point will be solemn?”

“You’ve come up here to brood on the rooftop by yourself, staring out across the city, and you expect me to believe there is no melancholy in your soul?” Sunset asked.

“Would you have me get to the point?”

“Not if you wish it otherwise,” Sunset said softly. “I… I confess I often find the way that you meander to your points to be quite beautiful. Like a riverside stroll to get to the picnic.”

Pyrrha smiled slightly at the compliment, even if the thing she was being complimented on was perhaps not a thing to be proud of. “I was just thinking,” she said, “that the age when a city could fit in the space that would now only be large enough for a train station was the age when a great hero, a prince of warriors and men, could do such deeds upon the battlefield that the city of such modest size would stand or fall upon their efforts.”

Sunset’s voice was soft. “I thought you were the one who thought we won?”

“We did win,” Pyrrha said. “But without General Ironwood’s army-”

“Without us, General Ironwood’s army would never have known what was coming,” Sunset pointed out. “And without us, they wouldn’t have had time to get into position before the grimm escaped the square.” Her ears drooped down yet further into her fiery hair. “One grimm was able to kill five people,” she whispered. “Just think what the toll would have been if… if there had been no one to stop them from getting up out of the tunnel, if they’d been free to get into the streets before the Atlesians troops arrived.”

“We owe our friends a great debt of gratitude,” Pyrrha said. “Yang, Nora, Ren; Arslan, Team Wisteria, Team Bluebell, though we have not been so close.”

“Sky,” Sunset murmured.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha whispered. “May the winds be his wings and carry him to heaven where the gods will feed him nectar and ambrosia.”

“Mmm,” Sunset mumbled. “So your problem is that we didn’t do enough by ourselves?”

“I… I suppose you could say that,” Pyrrha agreed. “Without the Atlesians, the city would have fallen.”

Sunset was silent for a while. She turned her back upon the city before them and leaned back upon the wall and rail as she thrust her hands into her pockets. “Yes,” she relented. “Yes, I daresay it would have. But the Atlesians were here, and the city did not fall.”

“And I am glad of it; I rejoice in it,” Pyrrha declared. “But if… if armies are necessary, if only an army and all the panoply of war that an army carries with it like a snail carrying a house on its back, can save a city or a kingdom, then what purpose huntsmen?”

“Not every battle can be won by an army,” Sunset pointed out. “Not every situation can withstand that sort of firepower being thrown at it. Some situations require a little more finesse.” She paused. “The greatest hero of my home is a librarian,” she declared.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “A librarian?”

“Well, she’s also a princess,” Sunset said, which might have seemed to take some of the wind out of her point except that she hastened to add, “but she lives in a library and, to my understanding, acts as the librarian… when she isn’t saving the world.”

“Your world requires saving?” Pyrrha asked, wondering to herself why, that being the case, Sunset had felt the need to come here to Remnant.

“From time to time,” Sunset said softly. “It’s less a question of continuous, low-level jeopardy such as we live with here and more long stretches of absolute peace punctuated by the occasional peak of intense peril. You can decide for yourself which is preferable. In any case, the great hero of my home has sufficient leisure to live and work in a library, and to… well, to enjoy a life of leisure otherwise alongside her companions: a farmer, a baker, an aspiring sports star, a dressmaker, and a… a caretaker of animals.”

Those descriptions sounded vaguely familiar to Pyrrha, but she couldn’t exactly say why. Instead, her voice took on a fond tone as she said, “I think that you are the one who is meandering towards her point now, Sunset.”

Sunset chuckled. “Ah, but am I doing it beautifully?” she asked. “My point is that not every situation requires nor can bear an army. Some situations require a hero.”

“In your world, perhaps.”

“In this world, too,” Sunset insisted.

“Such as?”

“An army cannot defend a village,” Sunset said. “Armies require too great a concentration of resources, they have too much interdependency, and there are too many villages which may be in need.”

“And for such tasks we are suited?” Pyrrha asked. She frowned at herself. “That sounded sharper and more arrogant than I intended. I… I sounded… I did not mean to sound so proud, and yet… could I have sounded any other way? Perhaps I am simply too proud and disgruntled in my pride to find that I have been born too late for my ambitions.”

“You have been born too late,” Sunset said, “though in your manners and your gentleness, to my mind, rather than your ambitions.”

The Evenstar, that gleams late as the darkness closes in. Even my epithet proclaims it.

“And yet,” Sunset went on, “I did not mean to insult you, and I am sorry if you took it that way. I would never-”

“I know,” Pyrrha said quickly. She sighed. “I just… I have no cause to be vain, now of all times.”

“'Now of all times'?”

“You… you have all been good enough not to say so,” Pyrrha said quietly. “But Ruby is lying in that hospital bed because of me.”

“How do you figure that?”

Pyrrha let out a bitter laugh. “Is it not obvious? I was the one ensnared by that… that grimm, whatever its name may be, I was the one who caught in its clutches.”

“So was I,” Sunset reminded her.

“Because you tried to save me!” Pyrrha cried. “If I had been stronger and faster, then-”

“Like you should have been stronger and faster against Cinder?” Jaune demanded.

Pyrrha gasped, her scarlet sash flying around her as she turned to see Jaune standing in the doorway, his blue eyes, usually so kind and gentle, close to glowering at her.

He had reason to glower, she conceded, for all that she did not like the sight. Not only had she put Ruby in the hospital through her incompetence, but she had also… she had come very close to breaking her promise to him. So close that the extent to which she might be said to have not broken her promise might seem like mere semantics.

They hadn’t talked about it yet. The time had not been right, beneath Mountain Glenn or in the desperate fight to hold the Breach, for obvious reasons.

But it seemed that they were come to the time now.

“I, um, I should probably… does anyone want some coffee?” Sunset asked, with much faux-cheer in her voice. She straightened up, her hands falling out of her pockets. “Great! I’ll just-”

“You can stay, Sunset,” Jaune said softly.

“What if I don’t want to?” Sunset asked.

“I want you to hear this,” Jaune insisted. “You’re our team leader, so I want you to understand this as well.”

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Okay,” she muttered, but that didn’t stop her sidling away from Pyrrha.

Jaune’s eyes didn’t follow her, remaining fixed on Pyrrha. For her part, Pyrrha looked down and played with her fluttering sash awkwardly with both hands. She said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

“You made me a promise, Pyrrha,” he said.

Pyrrha looked up, and into his eyes. “I did not break it,” she whispered.

“No?” Jaune asked, taking a couple of steps towards her. “Fighting Cinder without me, what was that?”

Anger hardly seemed to suit him. He had a face made for smiles, and a voice for laughter and kind words; a thunderous visage seemed almost to deface his features. Nevertheless, Pyrrha did not look away, knowing that she had deserved thunder. Her excuse sounded feeble even to her own ears as she said, “I didn’t send you anywhere.”

“Don’t play with words, Pyrrha!” Jaune snapped. “I deserve better than that… don’t I?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Yes, you do, of course you do. I…” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I was afraid.”

“'Afraid'?” Jaune repeated, taking another step towards her. “Afraid for me? Pyrrha, I thought you were the one who believed in me-”

“I do!” Pyrrha declared. “Have I not proven that? I’ve let you fight your battles, try your strength-”

“Against lone grimm, against low-level White Fang,” Jaune said, “but when it comes to a serious fight against Cinder, you tell me to stand back and wait!”

“Do you expect me to let you fight Cinder alone?”

“Of course not, but we could have fought her together!” Jaune yelled. He glanced at Sunset for a moment. “I know that I’m not as strong as you are, Pyrrha; Sunset, I know that I don’t have your magic. I know that the biggest contribution I can make to this team is with my semblance, but that doesn’t mean that I… I’m still your partner, I’m still a member of this team, and I…” He paused for a moment. “It’s not that I don’t understand why you wanted to fight Cinder by yourself. Believe me, I absolutely get it.”

“I know,” Pyrrha whispered, because she believed him. She believed that, in this, he understood her better than Sunset did, and not just because Sunset was blinded by her affection for Cinder, but also because Jaune understood, as Sunset perhaps never had – for all that she was a faunus – the feeling of being powerless. It was novel to Pyrrha, less so to Jaune unfortunately, but Jaune understood how it could torment you, gnaw at you, mock you.

She loved him for the fact that he didn’t say it out loud, and didn’t need to throw her inadequacies in her face to make his point.

“But I… I’m starting to think that you don’t really get why I asked you to make me that promise in the first place, if you think that not literally sending me away is enough to keep it,” Jaune said. “I thought you did, you told me that you did, remember? After Salem’s visions-”

“I told you I was a girl of my word,” Pyrrha murmured, glancing guiltily away. “And upon the letter of my word, I stood.”

“But not the spirit of what I asked of you,” Jaune reminded her. “I told you, down in Mountain Glenn, that if anything happened to you… that I didn’t want to live knowing that I couldn’t help you. When Cinder had you on the ropes while I was just standing there, how do you think I felt? How stupid, how pathetic, how useless do you think I felt? How angry do you think I felt with you for putting me in that position? When I heard you scream, I thought that I might lose you-”

“And what of that?” Pyrrha demanded. “As a… as a girlfriend, I… you could find a dozen others who can offer you all that I can and more.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “Is that what you really think?”

Pyrrha looked at him. “Is it not so? Ruby-”

“I don’t love Ruby,” Jaune declared. He covered the remaining distance between the two of them, and his expression softened as he reached out and gently rested his fingertips against her cheeks. “Even if… even if that were true, then… then none of them would be you.”

Pyrrha looked up into his face, the face from which so much of his anger had drained away, the eyes that were soft again and filled with compassion… and with a degree of exasperation yet. No doubt he thought her very dense for not understanding.

It was better to be thought dense than to be thought malicious, especially since she had not set out to be malicious or disingenuous.

She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him, to lay her head upon his chest, to melt into his embrace. She thought that it might be easy to do so, so much of his annoyance having ebbed away already. But it would not be right; at least, not before they had resolved this matter that lay between them.

“I… I promised that I would not send you away, because I thought that it was the guilt that you feared,” Pyrrha murmured. “The guilt of… of not being strong enough, that I didn’t think you strong enough. I suppose that, by telling you to wait, I laid that burden of guilt upon you nonetheless, and I am sorry for that, but I… am I not also allowed my fears? If Cinder had cut you down while you fought at my side-”

“Then you could find a dozen guys who can offer you all that I can and more,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha frowned. “That’s not funny, Jaune.”

“No,” Jaune agreed. “And it wasn’t funny the first time, either.”

Pyrrha winced and glanced down. “I don’t know… I cannot promise to watch you die.”

“But you’ve asked that of me already,” Jaune said, and though his tone was gentle, his words pricked at Pyrrha’s heart like daggers.

“Since you’ve kept me here listening to this with mounting embarrassment,” Sunset said, “although, I accept that I should have teleported away some time ago, because why you asked me to stick around is just becoming increasingly baffling, but since I am here, perhaps I might offer an observation?” She paused, possibly waiting for objections that did not come. “I understand where you’re both coming from. You fear one another’s deaths, you fear what would become of you if the other one died, you’re afraid to compound the pain of loss with the guilt of ‘what if.’ What if you’d been stronger, what if you’d been faster, what if you’d done this instead of that, what if you’d done anything at all?” Her tail twitched from side to side. “Guess what? That’s not unique to you. Not by a long way. Maybe it’s more pronounced for you both when it comes to the other, because you love each other, but you think that I don’t feel it too? You think that I don’t fear to lose you – or Ruby, for that matter?

“But this is a dangerous life that we’ve chosen, and that’s the point. We… we chose this.” Sunset looked away for a moment, her ears drooping down. “I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you don’t die, I will do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, whatever is within my power to make sure that you survive, to the last drop of my strength. But in the end… in the end, the only thing that I could do to make absolutely certain of your survival would be to pack you away from Beacon and send you home to your mothers.” She mustered a slight twitching upwards of the corner of one lip, though it did not reach a level deserving to be called a smile. “Neither of you want that, I take it.”

“Indeed not,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Well then,” Sunset said. “If you aren’t both willing to quit, then you’re both going to have to accept that there is some level of risk involved for the other, as well as for yourselves, otherwise… you know, I’d say ‘otherwise, this isn’t going to work,’ but let’s be honest, you could break up, and it still wouldn’t work as long as you still cared about one another on some level. So what’s it going to be?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. Sunset could be headstrong and heedless, but she could also speak with great wisdom, so long as the thing she was talking about was not something which stirred her into passions too great to be ruled by reason. In this case… in this case, she was quite correct.

She had not sent Jaune away in Mountain Glenn, but she had pushed him away nonetheless, and now, she saw that she had been very fortunate not to push him all the way away. If she did it again, if she continued to treat him like this, then she would undermine any claim that she could make to believing in him, and she would… she would push him so far away that he would not return. She couldn’t tell him on the one hand that she wished to see him flourish as a huntsman and then on the other seek to shield him from all danger as though he were a helpless innocent in need of her protection. Yes, there would be battles too difficult for him, and when those moments came, then she would be there without hesitation… but she could not do so as his protector. That was not what he wanted, that was not a relationship of equals… and what kind of relationship could they have if she did not see him as an equal?

If he died… even the thought of it made Pyrrha shudder in Jaune’s grasp. If he died, her heart would crack in two, the prospect alone threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She thought of Lyra and Bon Bon and how badly they had taken the loss of Sky Lark; if anything happened to Jaune, then that would be her… but it seemed that if anything happened to her, that would be Jaune, also.

She didn’t understand why. She could hardly comprehend her good fortune, but nevertheless, it seemed that fortune had blessed her, and so, if she wanted to remain blessed, then she had best reform her conduct.

While he was still willing to be patient with her.

Once more, her eyes found his, and Pyrrha held her gaze there. “I know,” she said, in a voice that trembled slightly, “that I did not keep my first promise as you wished I would, and for that, I am sorry. I cannot promise that my behaviour will be perfect in the future, or that you will have no more cause to be upset with me ever, but… but I will make you a new promise, and I vow to you that I shall try to keep it: that so long as we stand on the same battlefield, then I shall never fight without you.”

Jaune stared down at her. His fingers shifted across her face, brushing at the gold chains that hung from her circlet as his palms descended upon her cheeks, resting gently upon them. “That,” he whispered, “that is what I… that’s probably what I should have asked for in the first place, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha said nothing, but smiled brightly up at him.

Jaune smiled too, a bright smile that illuminated his eyes. “Never without?” he asked.

“Never without you,” Pyrrha affirmed.

And then he kissed her, his hands still upon her face, cupping her cheeks as his face descended towards hers, their lips meeting.

Ordinarily, the sensation of the kiss was enough to whisk Pyrrha away, banishing her from the world and its concerns – or banishing her concerns away from her. But now, though the kiss was as wonderful as it ever was, there was a part of her, at least, that lingered amidst her fears and doubts, a part of her which thought, which feared, which knew that it was not enough. That she was not enough. That together, they would not have been enough.

Jaune needed to be treated as an equal, or she would lose him, and in truth, they were equals: equals in unpreparedness for what lay before them. She would need to be so much stronger, so much more than she was now if she was to truly be never without him.

Or she would lose him in a way far worse than a bitter break-up.

Evenstar (New)

Evenstar

Terri-Belle Thrax bowed. “Thank you for seeing me, my lady.”

“When the Warden of the White Tower comes to my gate, how can I not open it?” Lady Nikos asked in reply. “I take it from your dress – and the fact that we are hardly close – that you are here upon some official business?”

“I am, my lady,” Terri-Belle said, straightening her back as she rose from her bow. She was not armed – there was no call to take a spear to call upon Lady Nikos in her home, and in any case, it might have alarmed the people to see her striding around the streets of the higher slope armed for battle – but she was armoured, in linothorax cuirass and pteruges, to demonstrate that she was not here not just as Terri-Belle Thrax, daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but also as Warden of the White Tower, her father’s right hand and commander of the Imperial Guard.

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Well then, Lady Terri-Belle, will it please you to come into my study, where we may talk in private?”

“It would indeed, my lady.”

“And will you take refreshment, also?” Lady Nikos asked as she began to turn away, her long gown of emerald green trailing after her. “I often take a repast at around this time, if you would care to join me.”

Terri-Belle bowed her head. “That would be most welcome, my lady.”

“Iris!” Lady Nikos called out to one of the maids who waited beside the grand staircase, “Tea and pastries in my study, for myself and Lady Terri-Belle.”

The maid bowed. “At once, my lady.”

“Please, Lady Terri-Belle, follow me,” Lady Nikos said as she began to ascend the stairs.

Terri-Belle followed after her. She could easily have outstripped the head of the Nikos family, whose movements were hampered by her injured leg, the limp which was becoming more pronounced by the day at present, but to have done so would have been rude in any circumstances, and especially in Lady Nikos’ own house.

Plus, Terri-Belle would not have known where she was going; she had not called upon Lady Nikos in her home before, still less been to her study.

And so, she slowed her steps and made sure to walk behind her noble host, betraying no sign of impatience as they climbed the grand staircase and walked through corridors lined with antiques, relics of Mistral’s noble past and of the part that the House of Nikos had played in that same past through the centuries.

Fortunately, she was very practiced at this; her own father moved rather more slowly than she did nowadays, and she had learned from necessity how to slow her steps.

They came at last to Lady Nikos’ study, a small and confined space, bounded upon one wall by shelves of old leatherbound books piled high, one upon the other, reaching from floor to ceiling; and upon the other side by a wall of testaments to the greatness of Lady Pyrrha.

What Lady Pyrrha herself thought of such a thing, Terri-Belle could scarcely imagine; she did not know the Nikos heir very well – Terri-Belle was a full ten years older than Pyrrha – but she seemed modest and unassuming. That could have been part of her public persona, but if so, it was a very good performance to which she was very committed.

Lady Nikos, clearly, was more traditional; Mistralians did not believe in hiding their lights beneath bushels.

And it was not as though she had no reason to be proud; her daughter’s accomplishments spoke for themselves, so why not speak of them further, and at great volume?

Lady Nikos’ gown trailed across the floor as she walked behind an ebony desk, upon which rested various mementos, curios, and the like. She sat down, gesturing with one pale hand for Terri-Belle to take the seat on the other side of the desk.

Terri-Belle did so, adjusting the great horn that she wore at her hip so that it rested lightly upon her lap instead of getting wedged between her thigh and the arm of the chair.

There was a knock upon the door behind her, and the maid entered bearing a tray in her arms, containing a porcelain teapot decorated in the Mikawachi style, two teacups and all the other accoutrements similarly decorated, and a plate of pastries that looked soft and warm.

“My lady,” the maid said softly, setting the tray down upon the table.

“Thank you, Iris; you may leave us now,” Lady Nikos said.

The maid – Iris – bowed and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

Terri-Belle began to rise.

“Remain seated, Lady Terri-Belle; you are a guest in my house,” Lady Nikos declared as she herself got up and poured the tea into the porcelain cups. “Do you take milk? Sugar?”

“Neither, my lady, thank you,” Terri-Belle replied, and received her cup of steaming black tea from Lady Nikos’ outstretched hands. She took a sip. “Exquisite quality,” she pronounced.

“Would you expect anything less?” Lady Nikos asked.

“Of course not, my lady; I meant no offence,” Terri-Belle assured her. She glanced at the wall full of commemorations of Pyrrha’s triumphs. “Will there soon be another item to celebrate what they are calling the Breach? Or is it there already and my eyes have missed it?”

“There is not,” Lady Nikos said. “I must confess, I am not sure there is much in the Breach, as it shall be known, to celebrate.”

“The deliverance of a city?” Terri-Belle suggested. “In my experience, my lady, victory in battle is always to be celebrated. With so much at stake, we cannot afford to be precious about the manner in which the victory was won.”

“Nevertheless, the mere fact that Pyrrha was present at such and such a place does not accord it a place of honour on my wall as by right,” Lady Nikos said. “I celebrate Pyrrha’s accomplishment, I glory in them as if they were my own, but I am not aware that my daughter accomplished anything at the Breach beyond being there.”

“I am not aware that she disgraced herself,” Terri-Belle murmured.

“The mere fact of not disgracing herself will not add lustre to her name,” Lady Nikos responded.

“That is not the mood within the city,” Terri-Belle said. “In many quarters, the mere fact that Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan were present at the Breach is sufficient to make them heroes of the hour.”

“You ask me to substitute the judgement of the general for my own?” Lady Nikos asked.

“No, my lady,” Terri-Belle said, “although I must say that it has pleased my father to encourage the idea of Pyrrha’s heroism – and Arslan Altan’s, but especially that of the Princess Without a Crown – as a check against unnecessary alarm. When news of the Breach broke… although it happened far away, that news footage of the grimm swarming up out of the ground was very distressing. That distress might not have been enough to bring a horde to our doors, but after our experiences of a few months ago, I hope you understand why we were not anxious to take the risk of a grimm resurgence. So many huntsmen are still scattered throughout the territory, and…”

Lady Nikos sipped at her tea while she waited for Terri-Belle to finish. When the daughter of the Steward did not continue, she leaned forward. “And, Lady Terri-Belle?”

Terri-Belle frowned. “I trust that anything I say to you will be in confidence, my lady?”

“I am not accustomed to wild gossip, Lady Terri-Belle.”

Terri-Belle hesitated for a moment. “Many huntsmen are late returning from their missions,” she said, “and the number that are overdue home is increasing. Even some of my own guard are amongst them.”

Lady Nikos frowned. “I have heard nothing of this.”

“For obvious reasons, we are not keen to trumpet the fact,” Terri-Belle said. “Lionheart says there is nothing to be concerned with-”

“I am not sure I would trust Lionheart if he told me the sky was blue,” Lady Nikos muttered.

“Having had the benefit of his instruction, I fear you are correct; he was never much good that I can remember,” Terri-Belle muttered. Father should have dismissed him years ago.

She would not say that aloud to Lady Nikos – she would not speak ill of her father’s choices to an outsider thus – but she had asked him to do so as early as her graduation from Haven. Yes, the system appeared to have been set up to make it deliberately difficult to replace a headmaster – not only did not it require a unanimous vote of the rest of the Council, but appointments and dismissals also required the unanimous consent of the other headmasters, allowing them to protect one another if they chose – but it was a fight that Terri-Belle believed her father could have won, albeit at the cost of a great deal of energy and political capital. Her father was not minded to spend either unless he had to, preferring to conserve both for political emergencies. And besides, as he had explained to Terri-Belle, there were advantages to a headmaster whom no one like or respected, who belonged to no faction and who could have no political ambitions of their own: it made him malleable and dependent upon those who could protect him from his critics.

Terri-Belle was not certain that advantage was worth the cost of having such a man at the head of Haven. Small wonder that their brightest star had preferred Beacon.

“If they do not start returning soon, then I shall have to go myself and look for them,” Terri-Belle declared.

“On the reasonable assumption that something or someone has delayed them, that could be perilous, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said.

“What other choice do I have, my lady? To send others in my place?” Terri-Belle asked. “And if they do not return, what then? Search parties to seek out the search parties? No, my lady, if something preys upon our huntsmen, then I will master it, man or beast. I am the Warden of the White Tower. And I will not cower behind the city walls and ask another to do what I would not.”

“And if you do not return?” Lady Nikos asked.

“Then I have three sisters to carry on the line of Thrax, and take our father’s place upon the Steward’s chair in time,” Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment, drinking the last of her tea and setting down the porcelain cup. “Although, my lady, I must say that I could depart – both from Mistral and, if need be, from this world – if I knew that Mistral would be defended by a stout-hearted champion in my absence.”

“Ah,” Lady Nikos said. “I think you come at last to the reason for your visit, Lady Terri-Belle.”

Terri-Belle looked her squarely in the eyes. “Lady Nikos, when Pyrrha came home for the vacation, I offered her a position in the Imperial Guard. Was it Pyrrha’s idea to mobilise a vast array of the great and good against the notion, or yours?”

“Mine, of course, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said. “Pyrrha might have refused you, but she would not have made the refusal quite so… final.”

“'Final'? I hope not, my lady,” Terri-Belle said. She paused. “My lady knows that I am not a fangirl; I speak only of the good of Mistral, which is to me the highest good in all of Remnant.”

“Of course, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos replied. “Fortunately, the abdication of my family has freed me to consider other goods, besides that of Mistral.”

“More personal goods, perhaps,” Terri-Belle muttered. “And yet, I must admit that I am somewhat mystified, my lady; what with the White Fang attacks, bombings, robberies, and now this? Vale appears to have descended into chaos, not to mention was completely unable to defend itself against attack-”

“You will permit me to wonder aloud, Lady Terri-Belle, if we would have done any better than the Valish when faced with a similar situation and no Atlesian aid in sight,” Lady Nikos murmured.

Terri-Belle chewed upon her. Lady Nikos’ words cut like a sword because they could not be easily refuted. Mistral, unlike Vale or Atlas, did not have a standing army, and the processes by which an army could be raised, either by seeking contributions from the noble families or else a mass levy of the citizenry, were ponderous and slow moving. In such a situation as Vale found itself, without any Atlesian assistance closer than Argus, Mistral might well have been overrun.

“I daresay we would have given good account of ourselves,” Terri-Belle said stubbornly, but it was a childish stubbornness, born out of the lack of a real response. What was the point of giving a good account of oneself if you still lost, if you not only perished but allowed the city to perish also? Mistralian culture was not above celebrating a glorious death, even as part of a glorious defeat, but there had to be at least somebody left alive to celebrate.

And besides, Terri-Belle had never much cared for those kinds of stories.

“But we were fortunate, my lady, that we did not come under attack, and if destiny wills it, so we shall not,” Terri-Belle went on. “My lady, with the Vale in its present state of disorder, there are many who believe that all our Haven students should come home, and our Mistralian sons and daughters with them. That question, and how we may better prepare our own city so that we are not caught in so shameful a position as the Valish, are ones that will be taken up in open court in a few days’ time.”

Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “'In open court'? That is… anachronistic, wouldn’t you say, Lady Terri-Belle? The Council-”

“Is not the city,” Terri-Belle said. “Why should my father constrain himself to listening to the opinions of four other men, one of whom is Lionheart, when he may hear the wisdom of all our notables and worthies?”

“Does the Lord Steward intend to do what the majority think best, or take what he deems the best advice?” Lady Nikos asked.

“I cannot say, my lady,” Terri-Belle admitted. “If my father had plans that he could share with me in advance, there would be small point in an assembly, would there? I hope, for all that you are removed from the need to hold the good of Mistral as your guiding star, that you will attend the court.”

“I will not stay away,” Lady Nikos declared.

“I am glad to hear it, as will be my father,” Terri-Belle said. Once more, she took pause. “If you announce that you are bringing Pyrrha back to Mistral, it will have a great effect in court, and in the streets, the people will rejoice to have their princess home.”

“And if I say otherwise, it will likewise have a great effect?” Lady Nikos asked, with a somewhat arch tone as if she already knew the answer.

Terri-Belle sighed. “My lady, do you really believe that your daughter is safe in Vale?”

Now, it was Lady Nikos’ turn to fall momentarily silent. “Do not mistake me, Lady Terri-Belle; the question has preoccupied me since news of the White Fang attacks reached us here in Mistral. You must not think that I am so dazzled by the thought of Vytal crowns that I would cast aside my daughter’s life in the pursuit of one. It is only the fact that Pyrrha’s survival was reported widely that enables me to be so calm. Thought I that there was worse to come than this, I might give ear to your arguments. But it appears that the White Fang, although unchecked for too long, have been comprehensively defeated, and I cannot imagine that there will be another grimm attack on such scale so hard upon the first. I did not think they fell so regularly.”

“Hordes rarely come in quick succession,” Terri-Belle conceded. “They tend to drain the areas they pass through of grimm, so that if they are defeated, a period of calm will often follow as the numbers of the monsters are diminished.”

“Then is it not a little late to fear and to talk of bringing our children home?” Lady Nikos asked.

“My lady knows this sentiment has been building up for some time,” Terri-Belle said. “For many, this is the last straw.”

“And yet, it seems the horse has bolted, so why slam the door?” Lady Nikos asked. She sighed. “In any event, it is not my decision. Only Pyrrha can decide whether she stays or goes, and I think she will desire to stay.”

Terri-Belle’s eyes narrowed. “You are her mother.”

“And she has defied me once already, to take up with a Valish boy,” Lady Nikos said.

Ah, yes, Terri-Belle remembered that now. She tried to rise above the gossip of the gutter press, but her sisters had found the whole thing fascinating; as, to be fair, had great swathes of Mistral. The Princess Without a Crown, dating some Valish nobody.

Terri-Belle hoped that they knew what they were doing; the tabloids could be as monstrous as any creature of grimm, and far less forgiving of error, in her experience.

“Will you at least allow me to speak with her, my lady, and put the question?” Terri-Belle asked.

Lady Nikos nodded. “You may ask, Lady Terri-Belle,” she agreed, reaching into a drawer in her desk and taking out a scroll. “I do not believe you will succeed, but you may certainly try.”

Pyrrha slipped one hand into the crook of Jaune’s arm and clasped her other hand over it, leaning ever so slightly against him as they walked back towards the door down off the roof and into the hospital.

Her scroll began to go off.

Pyrrha frowned slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said to both Jaune and Sunset as she pulled her arms away from Jaune and fished her scroll out of one of the pouches at her belt. “It’s my mother,” she said as she saw the caller ID when she opened the device. “Excuse me a moment.” She turned away from Jaune and began to step lightly back towards the edge of the roof as she took the call. “Good afternoon, Mother,” she said, calmly and without a great deal of emotion.

She was… she would scarcely have known how to speak to her mother at the best of times. After the way that her mother had treated her – and treated Jaune – over the vacation, they had… come to an understanding as to the limits of the interference in her life that Pyrrha would tolerate, and on the basis of that, Pyrrha had let her mother back in. But they hadn’t spoken since Pyrrha had dictated terms, and that conversation had occurred before the mission to Mountain Glenn that had… it might not have changed a great deal in real terms, but Pyrrha felt differently than she had before.

To a great extent, she felt worse.

She hardly felt in the mood to speak to her mother at the moment. She had no idea of either what to say or how to say it.

“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said, looking up at her from the screen of the scroll. “I… would like to speak to you,” she said, which seemed a strange thing to say when, after all, she had already indicated as much by calling, but then she went on, “however, there is a visitor who would like a word with you first.”

The scroll displayed an image of Mother’s study, evidently as the device itself changed hands, passing across the ebony writing desk before displaying the hard, angular face and grey eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax.

“Lady Terri-Belle?” Pyrrha asked.

“Lady Pyrrha,” Terri-Belle replied, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “I am glad to see that you have survived the recent struggle. All of Mistral rejoices that you live.”

“You flatter me so much, Lady Terri-Belle, that I must conclude it is deliberate,” Pyrrha murmured. “I doubt that my death would attract much notice.”

After all, she was not much more than a performing seal to those who cheered her performances in the Coliseum. No matter what fate befell her, she would swiftly be forgotten and replaced by who or whatever came next to capture the public heart and imagination.

“You humble yourself so much, Lady Pyrrha, that I would conclude that it were artifice, had I a more suspicious nature,” Lady Terri-Belle replied. “You are the Evenstar of Mistral; in you, the valour and skill of our kingdom of old stand reborn. You are the Princess Without a Crown, adored and celebrated in the city and in the lands beyond. In you are united skill, birth, grace, virtue – or at least the appearance of virtue – and, dare I say, beauty. If you were to fall, if your star were to be snuffed out… then so many hearts in Mistral would be broken in two that I fear it would bring the grimm upon us. For that reason alone, I am glad to see you alive. For that reason, I would see it stay that way.”

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “You want me to come back to Mistral.”

“Your mother tells me that you will refuse me,” Terri-Belle said, with a touch of wryness entering her voice.

“My mother does not always know me as well as she believes,” Pyrrha declared, “but in this, she is correct. I… I do not want to go.”

Terri-Belle was quiet for a moment. “What is the situation in Vale? I have watched the news, of course, but I would appreciate your view from on the ground.”

“The White Fang suffered heavy losses in their attempt to breach Vale’s defences,” Pyrrha said, although Terri-Belle doubtless already knew that; it had been trumpeted about quite loudly as a benefit – if it could be called that – of all this. “Their leader, Adam Taurus, is among the dead, and they have lost or used up all of the dust that was stolen from Vale, and the Atlesian military equipment that they had likewise seized.”

“Stolen Atlesian military equipment?” Terri-Belle said. “You are better informed than the news by far.”

Pyrrha cursed herself mentally. She hadn’t considered what was publicly known and what wasn’t; she had spoken without thinking, so stupid of her. Her throat felt very dry. “Um… I, uh-“

“We know people!” Jaune yelped, as he came to stand by her side. “That is to say that we, uh, we have friends amongst the Atlesians, they… they tell us things! I mean, um… I beg my lady’s pardon for the interruption.”

“Sensitive things?” Terri-Belle asked, her eyes narrowing. “It’s Jaune Arc, isn’t it?”

Jaune swallowed. “Yes. Yes, it is, my lady.”

Terri-Belle stared up at him. “You beg my pardon for the interruption.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You should have said that before you said anything else,” Terri-Belle pointed out, not without some amusement in her voice.

“My apologies, my lady,” Jaune said, “I meant no offence.”

“And ‘Lady Terri-Belle’ will do,” Terri-Belle added. “My lady would be my mother, if she yet lived.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Did you teach him all this?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured evenly. “That was my team leader, without my knowledge.”

Terri-Belle snorted. “You sound less than enamoured with the notion, but you should appreciate it. If you bring him back to Mistral with you, whenever you return to Mistral, then you will be glad if his courtesies can pass muster.”

“I would prefer if people accepted that my romantic life is none of their business,” Pyrrha replied, her voice sharpening.

“And I would prefer a kingdom safe from bandits and grimm alike, but that doesn’t seem very likely either,” Terri-Belle declared. “So, you think the threat of the White Fang has passed?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, and sincerely too; while Cinder remained at large and might yet plot further mischief, her sword had shattered in her hand with the destruction of the White Fang; even if the survivors were inclined to listen to her still, their numbers were reduced beyond the capacity for serious harm. “But, just in case, General Ironwood is bringing in reinforcements from Atlas.”

“I see,” Terri-Belle said. “So you think the Vytal Festival is safe to proceed? You think it is appropriate to proceed under the circumstances?”

“I think…” Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. 'Appropriate'? How could she answer that? Why should her opinion on what was or was not appropriate matter any more than Jaune’s or anybody else’s?

Because I am the Princess Without a Crown. I am the Evenstar of Mistral. I am the Invincible Girl. How she hated it. Those names had always been a burden, but now, they seemed like mockery. Terri-Belle told her that Mistral looked to her, that hearts would be broken by her death, that she was the flowering of Mistral’s valour and skill, but what skill? Skill that could not defeat Cinder? Skill that could not save Vale? Skill that could not save herself from a single grimm but had to be saved by Ruby’s silver eyes?

What a weak reed was she, on which to hang the hopes of a kingdom.

And yet, hang they did. And so, that being the case, since she could not cast off such burdens, the only thing to do was become stronger to bear them better, but… but she could scarcely see how. It was not as though she could acquire power out of the air or unlock some secret power within her.

So, then, what could she do?

I can answer the question, at least. “I think… I think that Vale needs this festival, lest the year become nothing more than the grim events that have gone before. This city deserves a little entertainment, after so much hard work has been put into it and especially since these attacks.”

Terri-Belle’s face was expressionless. “And what of the political situation?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Your Atlesian friends don’t tell you that,” Terri-Belle grunted.

“They don’t know any better than we do, Lady Terri-Belle,” Jaune said.

Terri-Belle ignored him. “Lady Pyrrha,” she said, “once before, I urged you to stay in Mistral. I offered to make you a huntress, to give you a place of honour in the Imperial Guard. Once more, I extend to you the same offer: come home, to Mistral, where your people need you. I will benefit from your strong arm at my side; Mistral will benefit from its beloved hero safely home where all can see you-”

“Are you asking me to come home and be a warrior, Lady Terri-Belle, or a prop?” Pyrrha asked.

“I am sure that you are talented enough to play both roles, as necessary,” Terri-Belle replied without missing a beat. “I will not keep you from the battlefield, if that is what you fear, but you must understand that your name and fame alike will always mean that you have value beyond the number of grimm that you can slay.”

The value of an empty vessel, nothing but what others wish to see in me; I have no more value than that.

Pyrrha held her scroll in one hand. The other hung down by her side. She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers and squeeze her own hand gently.

Pyrrha glanced at him. She had value to him, at least, and could not forget it, lest she drive him away. She looked back at Sunset, hovering uncertainly behind her, seeming to not want to interfere. Pyrrha had value to Sunset as well, and… and to Ruby, down in the hospital.

“I cannot,” she said as she looked back down at her scroll.

“Cannot or will not?” Terri-Belle asked.

“Either, or both,” Pyrrha answered. “I have responsibilities here that I would not forsake, and I have friends here I would not do without.”

“I would beg you bring your friends to Mistral, where you might finish your studies at Haven, but it is by no means certain that the Haven students will return,” Terri-Belle conceded. “This is your last word? You will not put duty before your own desires?”

“I have other duties besides to Mistral,” Pyrrha declared, “and they demand me here.”

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. “It seems your lady mother was correct. Very well then, Lady Pyrrha. If the Vytal Festival goes ahead, and if Haven students participate in it, then I shall probably cheer on my alma mater… but I wish you good fortune nevertheless.”

“Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle,” Pyrrha murmured. “That is very generous of you.”

Once again, the scroll showed her mother’s study as it was handed over. Terri-Belle’s voice emerged unseen. “Lady Nikos, I wish you good day. I will not detain you further.”

“Good day, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said. “One of the maids will show you out.”

“I am sure that I can find the way quite well, my lady,” Terri-Belle said before there was the sound of a door opening and shutting again.

Pyrrha found herself looking down upon her mother’s face.

“Mother,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said. “I am… very glad to see you well,” she admitted. “When I saw… I am very glad to see you.”

Pyrrha found herself blinking very quickly. “Thank you, Mother; I… I am very glad to be here.”

She did not want to die. Or perhaps it was better to say that she had not wanted to die. She had thought that, when death came, perhaps she could face it stoically, like the heroes of old, that she could accept death as the ending of a life well-lived, that she could content herself with having given her life in a worthy cause, perhaps inspiring others to take up the struggle in her place.

But when the moment had come, when the grimm had her in its grip, its unbreakable grip, when it had been squeezing her, when Sunset had been powerless to help her, when it had seemed that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the grimm from shattering her aura and breaking her body, then… then all of that had fallen away. All the comforting illusions had seemed then like so many falsehoods and all that she could think about was how she did not want to die. She didn’t want Sunset to carry her circlet home to her mother, she didn’t want to be remembered as a hero of Mistral, she… she didn’t want to die. She wanted… she didn’t know what she wanted, but it was not death. Not yet. Not for so long yet.

That was why Ruby had to wake up: so that Pyrrha could tell her how grateful she was.

Lady Nikos nodded. “Mister Arc, I see that you, too, are well, and for my daughter’s sake, I suppose I should express my gratitude for that. Miss Shimmer, is she-?”

“She’s here, Mother,” Pyrrha said, turning to Sunset.

Sunset stepped forward, her ears drooping down into the midst of her hair. There were dark lines beneath her eyes as she bowed her head. “My lady. I apologise that I did not contact you sooner; I have been… distracted, and remiss in my distractions.”

“So long as you have not been remiss in battle, Miss Shimmer, then I see nothing to complain of,” Lady Nikos said. “I am glad that you, too, have survived this… event.”

“We protected each other,” Pyrrha said.

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos replied. “And Miss Rose, what of her?”

Pyrrha winced. “Ruby is… Ruby was… injured,” she said.

Lady Nikos’ brow furrowed. “Badly?”

“We all hope not,” Pyrrha replied. “Although… she has not woken since.”

“I will pray for her,” Lady Nikos promised. She paused. “You were more involved in these events than you told Lady Terri-Belle, were you not?”

“Mother, I don’t know what you-”

“I am not a fool, Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said sharply. “Perhaps you do have friends amongst the Atlesian forces, but I do not think they would spill secrets to you without a cause. And besides, you spoke to me, abruptly, as if you were concerned that… that you would not later have time to do so. And then a great battle is fought in Vale, and you are present for it. And not for the first time, either. What has Professor Ozpin involved you in?”

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, and then at Jaune, hoping that one of them would devise a clever lie to extricate them all from this situation.

“My lady, we shall not insult your intellect with denials,” Sunset declared, “but I fear we are not at liberty to say more. It is… a matter of honour.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Well then, if it is a matter of honour, then I shall not pry further, except to say that I dislike what I know, and dislike the idea that I may not know more even more.” She fell momentarily silent. “I understand what you said to Lady Terri-Belle. I agree that the threat from the White Fang and the grimm are less now than they were before. And yet, there is a part of me that would bring you all to Haven for the next three years, safely in Mistral, where the White Fang and the quiescent and Professor Ozpin are far away. You are my heir, Pyrrha, my sole heir and the last hope of my house; Miss Shimmer, I think that you are a girl of great promise, one of whom I have grown rather fond; Mister Arc, I am afraid that I cannot say that I am fond of you, but Pyrrha has found it in her heart to… to love you,” she said the words as though they stuck in her craw and had to be pried out, “and would grieve your passing or your injury.

“In our culture, we prize bravery above caution, honour above care, the greatness that will linger in memory above life itself. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality; a noble death, they say, will elevate the memory above all others, however more long-lived they may be. But you are the last of your line, Pyrrha. If you die young, the House of Nikos will die with you, for I… I have given Mistral a red diamond of unsurpassed brilliance. I would not have it lightly thrown aside. I would not be left to linger out my last years in a house whose future has been stolen away. Miss Shimmer, Sunset Shimmer, I would not hear that all the potential I have seen in you has turned to ash. Mister Arc, I know what it is to lose love before the time for loss; I would not have Pyrrha know that pain as I did.

“As a true Mistralian, and a lady of the House of Nikos, I should urge you all in the language of the Mistraliad ‘fight well and be superior to all others.’ But… but as a mother, I find myself urging you only to be one another’s shields, that you all may live another day.”

Penny for Your Thoughts (Rewritten)

Penny for Your Thoughts

“Thanks for coming, both of you,” Rainbow said as she led them down one of the metallic corridors of the Valiant. “Penny’s really going to appreciate seeing you both.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Pyrrha replied. She was following directly behind Rainbow Dash, while Sunset trailed behind a little. “It’s the least we can do for a friend.”

“Even so, she’s still going to appreciate it,” Rainbow said over her shoulder. She stopped outside a door which looked, to Pyrrha’s untrained eyes, just like many other doors that they had passed on the Atlesian warship: a sheet of undecorated metal, poised to slide open to admit them. This door did not slide open, however; it remained resolutely shut, despite how close they were to it.

Rainbow leaned against the wall with one elbow, her hand hovering near the black keypad mounted alongside the door. “The door is locked to stop anyone from coming in and seeing Penny… you know. I have the code; I’ll unlock it to let you in. Once you’re done, you can leave; it’s not locked from the inside; Twilight can show you out to your airship.”

“You aren’t coming in with us?” Sunset asked as she moved from behind Pyrrha to standing alongside her.

Rainbow did not reply, nor for a moment did she make any move to actually open the door. Instead, she glanced down at her feet, and then looked back up at the pair of them. “I… I was assigned to Penny; she didn’t choose me. She didn’t choose any of us. She chose you girls,” she said, looking more at Sunset than at Pyrrha as she said it; something had changed between those two since Mountain Glenn, although Pyrrha didn’t know exactly what had changed and didn’t feel able to pry.

Nevertheless, something had changed; they seemed… closer perhaps; certainly, all of the antagonism – even the mock, playful kind – seemed to have gone out of them. That would have been a good thing, except that it was accompanied by a certain sense of dour melancholy afflicting at times both Rainbow and Sunset. Pyrrha, who was no stranger to degrees of dour melancholy herself, supposed that they were downcast by the results of the battle.

She supposed that she could understand that. Many people were downcast by the results of the battle. She… it might be hypocritical to say so, but she thought that they were asking too much of themselves. It was one thing to hold yourself to high standards, as she did, but another to ask the impossible. She had not wished to die in the dark, but her near death at the hands of that grimm, whatever its name was, did not dismay her nearly as much as her failure to defeat Cinder in combat for that very reason.

The loss of a comrade was always to be regretted, and the loss of six lives was a tragedy for all connected with them, but when one considered how large was Vale and how much, how many lives, had been at stake, it was impossible, for Pyrrha at least, not to conclude that they had won a glittering victory. Not one that would be attributed to any of them or their skill, true, a victory that would adorn the brows of the Atlesians and their technological prowess, but a splendid victory nonetheless. In years to come, when they spoke of men’s great triumphs over the grimm, the Breach would stand alongside Ozpin’s Stand as a day when mankind had stood against the tide of darkness and turned it back decisively.

It was a pity that neither Sunset nor Rainbow seemed able to see that.

It was not about the glory; it was more than Pyrrha’s hope that it was not; she genuinely did not believe that either of them were so vain that they would find disconsolation in a victory merely because they had not been rewarded with sufficient praise and recognition for it. No, it was the loss of life, if anything, that weighed upon their shoulders.

Unfortunately, and perhaps this was a cowardice in her, she knew not how to take it away without exposing herself to a charge of callousness.

"I'm going to be a friend to her while she’s away from you," Rainbow said. "I'm… gonna try to, anyway. But you two… Pyrrha, you and Ruby have always been there for Penny, from the moment you met her, you've been the friends that she needed and that… the friends that she can’t believe she has in her own team because of… how this team came to be. Thank you, Pyrrha, and if Ruby doesn't wake up before we go, make sure to thank her for me as well, won't you?"

"No thanks are necessary," Pyrrha replied. "It was my pleasure, and my privilege, and I'm sure that if Ruby were here, she would say the same. You don't need to thank me for something that has brought me great joy."

"Yeah, I do," Rainbow said softly. She glanced at Sunset. "And Sunset… I'm still not sure that I believe this whole not-human thing, but if it is true-"

"It is," Sunset insisted.

"Then what are you doing here?" Rainbow demanded.

Sunset folded her arms. "I'm the last survivor of a dead planet, sent here by my mother to be a light to inspire mankind to greatness."

"Really?"

"No!" Sunset snapped. "How long have you known me? Do I seem like the kind of person who could inspire others?"

"You've inspired me," Rainbow said softly.

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged. Her mouth hung open momentarily, like a puppet with a broken hinge, before she looked away. "Well… I'm not. If anyone was going to turn out to be sent by some otherworldly force to inspire everyone, it would be Pyrrha."

"You give me too much credit by a great distance," Pyrrha murmured.

"Well… whatever you are," Rainbow said. "Penny… it's meant a lot to her that you told her that, so thank you too. Though I hope you're prepared to give some details, because she's going to ask, and unlike me, she's going to be persistent about it." She paused. "So if you could tell her the truth-"

"I will," Sunset promised, not mentioning that she had already shared the truth with Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, and Blake.

Rainbow nodded. "I appreciate it. So the answer to your question is no, I'm not coming in with you. I'd only get in the way – I'll give Penny some time alone with the people she wants to spend time with – and besides, I need to finish writing my report for General Ironwood. I'm not sure that he'll like it, but hopefully, he'll appreciate my… honesty."

"What do you mean to tell him?" Pyrrha asked, wondering what Rainbow might have to say that might upset General Ironwood.

"That we shouldn't have been there," Rainbow said calmly. "That the mission should have been assigned to a specialist squad, not to first-year students."

"I think you do us a disservice," Pyrrha murmured. "We were chosen for a reason."

"It doesn't mean the reason was good," Rainbow replied. "I know we did the best we could-"

"And Vale survived," Pyrrha pointed out. "With very little blood shed."

"With more experienced personnel, it might have been no blood shed," Rainbow said. "That's what I think, anyway, and that's what I'll say in my report. You don't have to agree with me, and neither does the General, but I owe it to Penny and Ciel to put it on record and tell the General that I think he made a mistake."

"Professor Ozpin believed that we were ready to join this fight," Pyrrha insisted.

"And do you still believe him?" Rainbow asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. It was not the Mistralian way to refuse an honour offered or done to one, and as much turmoil as Professor Ozpin had sown within her heart when he told her the truth of what was going on out in Remnant, as much as he had sown fear and uncertainty in her, she yet believed that the headmaster had done her – had done them all – great honour by choosing them to be part of his latter-day circle. To be chosen to possess secret knowledge denied to other men, to be chosen to stand as a champion of light against the darkness, to be chosen by the defender of the world to be a soldier in his silent war, that was honour indeed, a testament to their skills and to their virtues both alike. Yes, Cinder had escaped her grasp, yes, she had been in peril of her life, but at the same time…

"I am not sure that anyone else could have done better than we did," she murmured, although she did not mention that that fact was as much cause for trepidation as for rejoicing.

"Well… I'm glad you feel that way," Rainbow said, seeming to take Pyrrha's words as much more enthusiastic than she actually felt. "Anyway, I… I'll leave you alone with Penny."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "And I hope that your report doesn't get you into too much trouble."

Rainbow grinned. "I'll be fine," she reassured Pyrrha before typing in some numbers onto the keypad next to the door, her fingers moving too quickly for Pyrrha's eyes to follow and make out the combination.

Not that she needed to. It wasn't as though she was planning to steal her like a thief in the night, after all.

And even if she had been, getting through the door would have been the least of her worries.

In any case, the door slid open; Rainbow stood to one side, out of sight, while Pyrrha led the way inside, followed by Sunset.

On the other side of the door – which slid closed behind them with a hydraulic hiss – was a clean, polished, and shiningly metallic room. All of the blades of Floating Array had been placed side by side upon a long workbench on the right-hand side of the room as Pyrrha entered, while various notes and diagrams and schematics were pinned to a board above the bench. On the far side of the room, opposite Pyrrha, in the left-hand corner, was another bench with a computer terminal and – the one untidy element in the room – papers spread out higgledy-piggledy across the surface. Twilight sat there, her back to the terminal, although she got to her feet when they came in.

And in the centre of the room lay Penny, laid out upon the bench, her hands by her side, as still as a corpse laid out for burial – or perhaps autopsy would be the more appropriate comparison, considering the circumstances and the fact that she was, somewhat disconcertingly, completely naked.

It was like looking at a child's doll, with all the… absences that that implied.

Only in Penny's eyes was there any difference from corpse or doll, for her eyes still moved, still looked, still seemed to brighten a little as Pyrrha and Sunset entered. "Pyrrha. Sunset," she said, in a voice that was deep, male, and rather devoid of emotion – especially for Penny. "You came."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "Penny?" she asked. "Is… is that you?"

"My speech centre is still disabled, but Twilight connected me to the computer so that I could speak through it," Penny explained. "I'm sorry that I don't sound like myself, but at least I can talk to you."

"No need to apologise, Penny," Sunset said, stepping out from behind Pyrrha. "These things happen. I remember one time, when I was a kid, I got really sick – really stay in bed sick, and my throat, not only did my throat kill me, not only did it feel like I was getting stabbed every time I swallowed anything, but my voice dropped a whole two octaves at least, and I sounded like this." For those last few words, she forced her voice downwards into a sort of croak.

"Haha," Penny said, "but I'm not sick."

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “But you were wounded in battle, and that is not a thing to apologise for. Rather, I feel as though I ought to apologise for being taken by surprise; as you say, it’s good that you can speak to us.” She tried to keep her eyes on Penny’s face, but it was a little difficult when she was… “Um, that being said… Twilight… why does Penny need to be, um…” She gestured at Penny’s unclothed form.

Twilight let out a squeak of embarrassment. “Sorry!” she exclaimed. “I had to take her clothes off in order to conduct a thorough physical exam, and then… well, I was there when Penny was created, so it doesn’t seem strange to me. But I should have thought. Sorry.” She grabbed a sheet from under her desk, telekinetically summoning it up into the air where it unfurled like a banner before descending upon Penny to cover her up from the neck down. Twilight’s hands glowed with a soft lavender light as she smoothed out the blanket. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Pyrrha murmured. Apart from anything else, it made it much easier to lock eyes with Penny and to keep her gaze fixed upon Penny’s gaze – or at least on Penny’s face when Penny’s gaze wandered to Sunset or anyone else. She approached the bench, her hands clasped in front of her. “How…?” Despite the fact that Penny was no longer exposed, Pyrrha could confess to herself that she yet felt a touch of uncertainty regarding what to say. Never before had Penny’s nature as a robot seemed more intrusive to her. She couldn’t even be sure of the wisdom of so innocuous a question as ‘how are you?’ Could Penny even feel anything at the moment?

Calm down. Don’t overthink it – as hard as that might be for you. Just talk to her like you would to anyone else.

After all, that’s why she likes you, because you treat her just like… well, because you don’t treat her any differently.

Pyrrha crouched at the knees, bending down so that she no longer loomed over Penny quite so alarmingly. “How are you doing, Penny?”

Penny was silent for a while. “Is Ruby going to be okay?”

“We think so,” Sunset said.

“We hope so,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Okay, yes, we hope so,” Sunset conceded. “But we hope… we hope with good cause.” Her tail twitched. She sighed as she ran one hand through her red-and-gold hair. “It’s true that I don’t really understand how Ruby’s magic works, but we know that it isn’t some power that Ruby came into overnight. This is something that was passed down to her through generations of Silver-Eyed Warriors, warriors who were once celebrated in song and story for all that they have largely been forgotten now, warriors including Ruby’s own mother, whose words we have. We know that she used this power without taking permanent harm from it, we know that others before her used this power; it stands to reason that Ruby can use it too, without… I don’t know why it’s done this to her – inexperience, maybe – but nothing that I know, nothing that we know, suggests that this is permanent. Ruby will come back to us. We just have to be… patient, it seems.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Penny said.

“You’re also dodging the question,” Sunset pointed out, her eyes narrowing.

Penny fell silent. Her eyes, the only part of her that could move, flicked from side to side, looking at neither Sunset nor Pyrrha.

“Penny?” Pyrrha asked.

“I hate this,” Penny admitted. “I wish that I could speak to you in my own voice. I wish that I could hug you. I wish that Ruby were here.”

Pyrrha reached out and put a hand on Penny’s sheet-covered shoulder. “We all wish for all those things, Penny.”

“I don’t even feel that,” Penny said in what Pyrrha thought would probably have been a tone of lamentation if she had been able to put any tone into her voice at all. “I wish that I could. I wish… I wish that I wasn’t such a disappointment. Such a failure.”

Twilight frowned. “Penny, no one thinks that-”

“Penny does,” Pyrrha said gently, “don’t you?” She frowned in turn. “It doesn’t matter if no one else thinks that way; it doesn’t matter if everyone continues to hold you in the highest regard. Maybe we are our own worst critics, but that doesn’t make the criticism any less real, does it?”

Penny’s eyes widened. “But you can’t possibly feel that way, Pyrrha.”

“Can’t I?” Pyrrha asked. “But you can?”

Penny was silent a moment. “I was created to save the world.”

“And that has been my destiny, my dream, since I was old enough to understand what destiny meant,” Pyrrha replied.

“What it might mean,” Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha ignored that. “You’re not the only one who failed underneath Mountain Glenn.”

Penny looked into Pyrrha’s eyes. “Is this about the tunnel? I heard… I mean-”

“Rainbow told us what happened,” Twilight murmured apologetically.

Pyrrha winced. “Well… what happened down there was… certainly less than ideal,” she conceded, “and I am… I regret that Ruby had to put herself in that condition saving my life, but… no, that is not what vexes me most about what happened beneath the city of the dead.”

“No?” Penny asked.

“No,” Pyrrha agreed, shaking her head. “Whatever that grimm was, it was… rather large, probably very old, and undoubtedly rather powerful. If Ruby hadn’t been with us, I’m not sure what we would have done… but I must confess that I’m struggling to think what any huntsman or huntress would have done.” She smiled, if only a little. “Except, perhaps, for you. With your laser cannon, you’re perhaps the only one of us, the only huntsman that I can think of, who might have stood a chance against that beast.”

“But I wasn’t there,” Penny said, “because I had already been taken out by some guy.”

“You were taken by surprise,” Pyrrha argued. “At least you weren’t stymied in single combat, the one thing that you are supposed to be supremely good at-”

“Are you two really going to stand or lie there arguing about which one of you sucks the most?” Sunset snapped. Her gaze was sharp, and her ears were pressed down angrily into her hair. “You...” – she took a deep breath – “you are both idiots! And that’s saying something, coming from me!”

Pyrrha looked at her, and as she looked at her, she straightened up, her hand leaving Penny’s shoulder. “Sunset, I-”

“And you were the one who pointed out that we won!” Sunset added.

“Well… yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t be disappointed in myself.”

“Why, because you didn’t beat Cinder?” Sunset said. “Did it ever occur to you, when you were lamenting that your vaunted prowess did not enable you to carry all before you like a tidal wave swamping the shore, that you probably don’t get to be Salem’s champion if you’re not pretty damn handy in a fight yourself?”

“I’m not a fool, Sunset,” Pyrrha said, in a tone of soft rebuke. “I didn’t expect to defeat Cinder easily.”

Sunset snorted. “If it helps at all,” she said, “I doubt that Cinder is crowing over her victory. If she even considers it a victory at all. She was expecting you to be a pushover, you know.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “A… a pushover.”

“That’s… one of the reasons why she hates you,” Sunset informed her. “She thinks that you’re-”

“Hollow,” Pyrrha whispered. “A name, and someone who owes everything to that name, someone with more wealth and unearned prestige than actual ability.”

A moment of silence descended on the room.

“How did you know that?” Penny asked.

“She wouldn’t be the first,” Pyrrha declared. Even Arslan had believed it so, once upon a time. “Usually, I prove those who think such things of me wrong in a far more decisive fashion.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing to beat yourself up about.”

“I am the Champion of Mistral,” Pyrrha said proudly. “I am… I am the Invincible Girl.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you didn’t like that name.”

“I… I liked the fact that I had never lost a battle.”

“You still haven’t,” Sunset pointed out.

“Perhaps that is so, but it is no longer true that I have won every battle, is it?” Pyrrha replied.

“You are my best friend,” Sunset said, “but you’ll forgive me if my heart doesn’t bleed for your injured pride in this particular instance. And you,” she added, looking at Penny, “yes, you’ve been injured. I’ll even concede that you have been injured badly, and that being what you are, being injured is… a little harder on you than for the rest of us. But look at this.” She pulled up her purple tunic to reveal the scar on her belly from where Adam had stabbed her. “You remember where I got this?”

“On the train,” Penny said.

“On the train,” Sunset agreed. “On the train, saving Twilight. And I’ll carry it with me for the rest of my days, a token of his esteem. Ruby nearly got cut in half and would have died on the docks if Jaune hadn’t found his semblance at just the right time, you remember that too?”

“Yes,” Penny said, “but I don’t understand-”

“It happens to the best of us,” Sunset said firmly. “It happened to Ruby, it happened to me; now it’s happened to you as well. About the only person that it hasn’t happened to is the Invincible Girl over there who is busy pounding on herself because she’s only the Invincible Girl now, and not the Undefeatable Girl, what a tragedy!”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha began.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” Sunset demanded. “How lucky we all are? We faced death down there in Mountain Glenn: chills, that ursa thing, that even worse grimm with the bones, Adam Taurus, Cinder’s team, Cinder, an entire grimm horde! We walked into a city of the dead, and we came out again. Every last one of us, and we got Applejack back, and we got Fluttershy back, and we fought a battle at the end of it on top of everything else!” Sunset’s voice was rising in pitch, trembling with agitation. Tears started to prick at the corners of her eyes. “And we survived. You all survived, and yet, you have the gall to stand here and lie there and complain that you didn’t win as hard as you wanted to, that you didn’t live up to your own expectations. But you’re alive. You are both alive. We are all alive, and that… that is worth the dinging of a reputation, don’t you think? That is worth celebrating more than… more than anything else is worth mourning, right?”

“Practice what you preach,” Pyrrha said softly.

“I may be a hypocrite, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Sunset retorted. She wiped at her eye with one hand. “Pyrrha, if… if anything happened to you, it wouldn’t just be Jaune’s heart that broke. And Penny… I admit that we don’t know each other very well, but you’ve been a really good friend to Pyrrha and Ruby, and you’re a sweet kid, and… and I’m glad that I have the chance to get to know you better.”

She stepped forward, holding out one hand as she did so, and as she stepped forward, her outstretched hand glowed green, the green light of Sunset’s magic enveloping Penny – sheet and all – to lift her and her covering, which wrapped around her like a hospital gown, off the bench and into Sunset’s embrace. Sunset wrapped her arm around her, gloved fingers almost reaching up to Penny’s hair.

A smile crossed Sunset’s face, even as tears continued to form in the corner of her eye. She looked at Pyrrha, and her smile widened a little as she held out her free hand.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of Sunset’s smile, the passion that was almost anger in her voice as she rebuked them both, the words spoken with, she had to admit, both head and heart. Any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of the fact that it looked rather nice and inviting over there. She leapt over the bench, her boots tapping on the floor as they hit the ground for a moment before she enveloped Sunset and Penny in her arms and felt Sunset’s other hand upon her back in turn.

“Perhaps we can do this again when I can feel it?” Penny asked.

Sunset laughed, her whole body trembling. “Sure, Penny,” she agreed. She bowed her head, resting her forehead upon Pyrrha’s shoulder. “You’re alive,” she said, her voice a little more muffled now because of where she was. “You’re alive, and that is worth so much more than your records or performances. That is… that is everything.”

“As the General would say,” Twilight said, before she cleared her throat and deepened her voice in a not particularly good impression of General Ironwood. “That you made a mistake doesn’t say anything about you; what says everything about you is how you learn from it afterwards.”

“That was terrible,” Sunset said bluntly.

“I know,” Twilight admitted. “I can’t get my voice deep enough.”

“But what am I supposed to learn?” Penny asked, as Sunset – releasing Pyrrha at the same time – levitated her back down onto the bench, still covered in her sheet.

“Well,” Pyrrha said, walking past Sunset to the bench where Penny’s swords, detached from her, were all laid out, “you were injured when Lightning Dust was able to shock you through the wires connecting you to your swords, correct?”

“That’s right,” Penny said.

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to one of the swords.

“I don’t mind,” Penny said. “Is it okay, Twilight?”

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly as she picked up one of the blades from off the workbench.

It was longer than she was used to in a sword, much longer than Miló in sword configuration, as long even as her weapon in its spear form. She held it thoughtfully in one hand and then shifted into a two-handed stance. It felt natural in either one.

“These are fine swords,” she said. “Do you know how to use them?”

“Of course,” Penny said. “You’ve seen me using them.”

“I’m not talking about directing them through the wires,” Pyrrha said. “I’m talking about holding them in your hands. Do you know how to do that?”

She suspected that the answer was no, purely based upon the fact that she had never seen Penny do so.

“No. I’ve only ever trained to use the wires.”

“The swords aren’t designed for handheld use,” Twilight said.

“Sunset, would you mind giving me some space?” Pyrrha asked. Sunset did so, retreating into the far corner of the room while Pyrrha flowed like water through several sword stances, rapidly moving from form to form, striking down imaginary enemies all around her. “The balance is excellent,” she said. “The weight is tolerable, and the edge is sharp. These blades might not have been designed to be wielded, but whoever designed them knew too well what they were doing to produce an inferior weapon.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Twilight said, “They were Doctor Scarlatina’s contribution. Amongst his many talents, he’s also the finest bladesmith in Atlas. He probably couldn’t design a bad sword if he wanted to.”

Pyrrha set the blade down upon the bench. “If you had been facing Lightning Dust with a sword in your hands rather than blades upon wires, then any shock she might have inflicted on you would have been absorbed by your aura, the same way it would if she delivered me a shock through Miló. At present, it seems you're rather vulnerable against electrical attacks, but that wouldn’t be the case any more. And you wouldn’t be at such a disadvantage fighting in enclosed spaces. Something to think about when you get back on your feet.”

Penny’s eyes were wide. “You could work out what the problem was just like that? You’re amazing, Pyrrha.”

“Hardly,” Pyrrha said. “This is very rudimentary. Have you found your semblance yet?”

“My father isn’t sure that I have one,” Penny said.

“If you have aura, then you have a semblance,” Pyrrha said. “And you can unlock it with proper training.” If she could unlock it then, depending on what her semblance was, it would be another way for Penny to protect herself or engage her opponents without having to rely solely upon her ability to direct her swords.

“Do you really think so?”

“Do you think that I would lie to you?” Pyrrha asked earnestly.

“No,” Penny said at once. “Of course not. I’ll keep trying. Thank you, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha smiled. “You’re very welcome, Penny.”

“Sunset,” Penny said. “Can I ask you something?”

Sunset grinned. “Do you want to know what I really am?”

“Yes,” Penny replied. “I’d like to know; if you’re not human, then what are you?”

The smile remained on Sunset’s face as she raised a hand and levitated a blank piece of paper up into the air beside her. Moving across the room so that she was once more within Penny’s sight, Sunset twitched her fingers, and the paper began to fold, delicately and with great precision, fold after fold compounding upon one another until what had been a sheet of paper just a few moments ago had become, through no magic at all – save the fact that Sunset hadn’t actually used her fingers – a perfect origami unicorn which settled in the palm of Sunset’s hand.

“You can do origami?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset glanced at her. “I can do anything that I set my mind to, Pyrrha,” she said breezily before she showed the paper unicorn to Penny. “I,” Sunset said, “am a magical unicorn from the land of Equestria.”

"Really? You don't look like a unicorn," Penny pointed out, not unreasonably.

"No," Sunset allowed. "But that's because I travelled to this world through a magic mirror, and that magic turned me into this, so that I could fit in here amongst all of you."

"I see," Penny said. "So why did you come here?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Because… because I wanted more," she said. "All my life, I felt as though I deserved more. So much more than they had planned. And so, I sought a place where I could make a life for myself. A great, splendid life, unbound and unbounded."

"That sounds wonderful," Penny said.

Sunset shrugged. "Well, it brought me here, so it wasn't all bad." She grinned.

"What's it like, the world you come from?" Penny asked.

"Equestria?" Sunset said. "Equestria is… Equestria is… where do I even start? Equestria is a very silly place, the sort of place where ponies decorate in hearts for no reason at all except because they can, the kind of place where songs break out in the streets just because one pony felt like singing and everypony else felt compelled to join in, the sort of place where… where the apples are always juicy and red, and the sun is almost always shining. I suppose you could say it's a picture book sort of world, like something out of a fantasy… except it's real. A world where unicorns wield magic just like mine, where pegasi control the weather and walk on clouds, where earth ponies can feel the rhythm of the land beneath their hooves."

"That all sounds so lovely," Penny declared.

"Yeah," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, it… it really is."

"I wish I could see it for myself," Penny said.

Sunset was silent for a moment, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets as she looked down at the origami unicorn that she had made. She furrowed her brow. "You know," she said, "let me know when you get better, because it's possible, just possible, that I might just be able to make something happen."

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: A lot of the original version of this chapter had been moved to the original train mission where Penny told Pyrrha she was a robot, necessitating a fairly substantial rewrite of this chapter, not least to include Sunset.

After Action (New)

After Action

"You've been reading that thing almost non-stop since we got back from Mountain Glenn," Rainbow observed, and a glance across the dorm room showed that Ciel once again had her nose buried in the catechisms of the Lady of the North. Rainbow attempted a grin as she put the last of her neatly folded clothes into a hold-all. "The ending isn't going to change if you keep re-reading it."

Ciel looked up to deliver a rather withering glance out of her blue eyes, matching the frigidity of her tone. "I find the teachings of our Lady very comforting in times of trial."

Rainbow zipped up her hold-all and sat down on her bed. "Are we in a time of trial?"

"We are always in a time of trial," Ciel declared. She looked back down at her holy book. "For whenever there is light, there, too, shall ye find darkness; and evil shall walk the earth as long as thy descendants shall endure, and thou shalt never see the end of it."

"I guess she had a point about that," Rainbow muttered. She clasped her hands together. "Are you all packed and ready to move out?"

Ciel looked up at Rainbow Dash once more.

"It's my job to ask," Rainbow said.

"Is it also your assignment to underestimate me?"

"No," Rainbow said. "Just to ask."

Ciel sniffed. "All my gear is safely stowed."

"Except that book."

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "Except this book."

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. "I thought you knew it by heart."

"And I thought you were above inane conversation," Ciel replied.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. An indirect approach was not getting her very far. Okay then: straight at it, the Atlesian way. "It's got to you, hasn't it? What she said down there?"

"I have no idea what you-"

"Salem!" Rainbow yelled. "Down in Mountain Glenn. What she said, about the Lady in the North... about her dying at Salem's hands."

"At the hands of one of her servants," Ciel corrected her. "Some latter day Cinder Fall. God's intermediary upon the earth and the great enemy could not even be bothered to triumph over her in person, sending instead some cutthroat bitch to do the job."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"You will not hear it again," Ciel said. "Forgive me, I am-"

"Rattled?"

"A little out of sorts," Ciel corrected.

Rainbow shrugged. "It doesn't bother me. Curse up a storm if you want to."

"No, thank you." Ciel murmured.

"I'm serious," Rainbow said. "Well, maybe not about the cursing, but about... Penny's not here right now; you can take your armour off."

"And what would that serve?"

"What good is pretending that it doesn't bother you when it does?" Rainbow asked. "I tried to pretend that the White Fang didn't scare me anymore, but the moment I found out about Blake, I lost it." She hesitated. "I don't want to see you lose it at the worst time, for your sake."

Ciel shut the book with an audible snap. "You speak of taking off my armour," she whispered, "but the truth is that Salem has shot a hole through my armour already. Duty is my shield, discipline my sword, but faith has always been my armour, but that faith... how can the Lady protect us when she could not protect herself? If God would not intervene on behalf of his beloved, his most faithful servant, then why should he protect any of us?" She shuddered. "When she spoke to me, I saw... I saw Atlas, and it was surrounded by dark clouds which moved as if they were alive. I saw the city burning and the Lady weeping upon her pedestal of stone. And above the clouds, I saw a golden light, and God in all his radiant majesty looking down upon our city... and he turned away, and the darkness consumed everything."

Rainbow crossed the distance between them, leaping over the intervening beds to kneel before Ciel and take her hands. "What she showed us is not prophecy," she said. "It doesn't have to come to pass, and it won't. We won't allow it."

"The two of us?" Ciel asked dubiously.

"All of us," Rainbow replied. "You, me, Applejack, Penny, Trixie, Starlight, Maud, Neon, Flint, everyone. Atlas will not fall while men defend it. What's that phrase, about four corners?"

"Come all four corners of the world in arms, and we will shock them," Ciel said. "We are a rather vain people, are we not?"

Rainbow grinned. "Confidence is sexy; it's why we're so popular."

Ciel snorted. Her face fell shortly after. "It feels less appropriate now than it did before."

"Because we've reached the end of vanity," Rainbow murmured.

"Even so," Ciel agreed, speaking softly. "If the Lady herself could not prevail, what chance do we have?"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "Is it true?"

"I... I don't know," Ciel admitted. "I have been reading and re-reading, but... leaving aside the fact that the Lady never mentions Salem or our struggle except by opaque references that I am only now uncovering... it is a first-person account; obviously, it does not cover the circumstances of her death."

"What about her going to fight?" Rainbow asked.

Ciel shook her head. "No. Her last writings are concerned with harmonious relations amongst a community of believers and their relations with unbelievers. All that Salem said may be a pack of lies, but-"

"But you don't think she'd be that obvious," Rainbow said.

"Indeed," Ciel said quietly.

Rainbow got up. "Then I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves, won't we?"

Ciel looked up at her. "'Find out for ourselves'?"

"Once Penny is better," Rainbow said. "We'll... research. Take a road trip to some holy sites. There has to be something somewhere, something to tell us what really happened."

Ciel frowned. "And if it really happened exactly as Salem said?"

"Then we'll find out what she died for," Rainbow declared. "Because I guarantee that it wasn't for nothing." She paused. "We can't kill Salem; we already knew that. The Lady probably knew it too. But we can stand between her and the people we care about, and I bet that if we look close enough, we'll find that's what the Lady did too."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I hope you are correct," she murmured. "And I would gladly seek the truth with you, although I do not understand why you would seek it with me. It is not your faith."

"But it's yours, and you're on my team," Rainbow said. "And that means your problem is my problem."

"Then may the Lady guide our steps towards enlightenment," Ciel said. She smiled softly. "Thank you."

"All part of the service," Rainbow said. Her scroll buzzed. "Hold that thought," Rainbow said, as she answered it. "I've got to go," she announced. "The General wants to see me in his office, right now."

Rainbow Dash came to attention and saluted. "Cadet Leader Dash reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Dash," General Ironwood commanded, returning the salute from behind his desk aboard the flagship. "And tell me what this is."

Rainbow looked at the scroll that the General had just picked up off his desk. She doubted that General Ironwood would appreciate being told that it was his scroll, so she focused on what was currently on the scroll. "That... that's my report on the operation in Mountain Glenn, sir."

"That's what it appeared to be," General Ironwood replied calmly. "I had to ask, since it's like no other report that you've ever prepared for me."

Rainbow swallowed. "Sir, I understand that this may seem-"

General Ironwood held up one hand to forestall her. "You'll get your chance to defend your position on all counts, but for now why don't we start at the top? Why does this report read like you're describing a defeat?"

"Because the victory was yours, sir, not ours," Rainbow replied. "We failed to complete our initial mission objectives: to forestall the White Fang threat to Vale, to kill or capture Cinder Fall, and to report timely intelligence on enemy dispositions and objectives. And on top of that, Penny was badly injured. Vale was saved thanks to your efforts, sir, but Mountain Glenn itself, we messed up."

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. "You're right; Cinder did escape," he said. "What could you have done to make sure you got her?"

"I... I don't know, sir."

"Consider this your homework: I want a revised mission plan detailing how you could have proceeded so as to accomplish all of the mission objectives."

"With hindsight, sir, or just with what we knew going in?"

General Ironwood pondered that. "Both," he said. "As I say, you're correct that Cinder escaped and that Penny was wounded. However, the only reason that we – myself, Ozpin, and the Valish authorities – were able to mount an effective response to the Breach was due to timely intelligence on enemy objectives, wouldn't you agree?"

Rainbow frowned. "Feels like we cut it fine, sir."

"If you could have done better, write it down for me," General Ironwood instructed her. "As the Last King of Vale said after the Battle of Four Sovereigns, ‘the only thing worse than a battle won is a battle lost.’ But a battle lost is worse. I know that the outcome of this operation wasn't perfect, and I won't say that you didn't make mistakes, but being too hard on yourself won't help you to do better next time. Take heart, Dash; you can't learn from your intakes unless you can recognise your successes too. Like rescuing two Atlesian citizens from captivity."

"Yes, sir. About that, sir, did Professor Goodwitch-?"

"Had some words to say on the subject, yes," General Ironwood replied. "Harsh words. Harsher than I think you deserve in the circumstances."

"Sir?"

"Civis Atlarum Sum, Dash," General Ironwood reminded her. "Glynda isn't one of us, for all her sterling qualities, so she doesn't understand that rescuing the two of them became a top priority the moment you found out they were being held captive, not because they were your friends but because they are Atlesian citizens.

"We fight against Salem under Ozpin's colours, but we are still Atlesian soldiers with responsibilities to keep the people of Atlas safe from harm, first and foremost." The General paused. "That being said, going off on your own was reckless."

"I didn't want to spook him into changing his mind, sir."

"I can't condone lying to Professor Goodwitch either," General Ironwood said pointedly. "What's your opinion of the relationship between Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer?"

Rainbow hesitated, thrown off initially by what seemed like a sudden change of subject. A moment's thought, however, revealed to her why General Ironwood had chosen to ask this now. She thought about it for a little longer. "It's a little weird, sir, I admit, but I'm not worried."

"No?"

"No, sir," Rainbow repeated. "But, Sunset... Sunset knows who her real friends are; she wouldn't pick Cinder over her team, or mine. Cinder, though... I think she'd do stuff for Sunset that she wouldn't do for anyone else."

"So you think this may work to our advantage?" General Ironwood asked.

"We did get a hostage back without a fight, sir."

"Hmm," General Ironwood murmured. "I can't say that I like it, but you may have a point."

"Thank you, sir."

"Just," General Ironwood added, "as you may have a point about my asking you to volunteer for this mission."

Rainbow winced. "I didn't mean to imply that... I meant no disrespect, sir; I just think that a Specialist detail should have been assigned to this mission instead of two first-year teams." Rainbow hesitated, wondering if she was about to go too far. "A point I think I raised before the mission, sir."

"Yes," General Ironwood admitted. "And do you remember my answer?"

"You said that Professor Ozpin didn't trust our Specialists," Rainbow replied. "You also said it didn't matter why he didn't, just that he didn't." She paused. "I'm not sure it matters either; you should have fought for it anyway, sir."

"You're being very bold today, Dash," General Ironwood murmured.

"That's what you keep me around for, sir," Rainbow said. "And you said it yourself, sir: we may fight Salem under Ozpin, but we're still Atlesian soldiers, and that means that you..."

The General waited a moment. When Rainbow did not continue, she prompted, "Go on."

"I may not be the best student, sir, but I wasn't sleeping during combat school history class," Rainbow began. "I remember that the Mantle armies in the Great War never fully enforced the rules on self-expression during the war, I know the generals turned a blind eye when regiments kept their Colours and their marching songs, and I know that when the King ordered them to start executing every prisoner they captured, they refused to do that either. They told the King to get his ass down there and do it himself if he wanted it done. He didn't have the guts. The point is, sir, that the military has never been afraid to go its own way when it was in the right."

"And that," General Ironwood said, "is precisely why I couldn't defy Ozpin in this."

Rainbow frowned. "Sir."

General Ironwood got up, turning away from Rainbow and walking to the window, looking out over Vale and all the gallant ships who kept her safe.

"As you rightly recall," General Ironwood said, clasping his hands together behind his back, "the Atlesian forces have a certain historical reputation, dating back to before the Great War. Those who don't see us as emotionless robots see a force that is uncompromisingly obedient to its own officers... and almost beyond the control of anyone else. I have to say that my holding two seats on the Council only adds to that impression of unaccountability. There are many, even in Atlas, who fear that the military is outside the control of the civilian authority."

"We couldn't be the kingdom's conscience if we weren't independent, sir."

"The Kingdom's conscience, Dash; is that what you think we are?"

"I think we could be, sir, if there was a need."

"Some would say that we are more keepers than conscience," General Ironwood declared. "Some even in Ozpin's inner circle. I am not... universally well-liked amongst that group, or well-respected. There are those who don't think that I should be a part of this struggle. Those voices will only grow more vocal and, I fear, more influential with Ozpin, if I am seen to act overtly against him."

"Politics," Rainbow growled.

"It gets everywhere," the General agreed, as though it were a persistent mould. "But I can do more good on the inside than frozen out, even if it means I have to pull in my horns from time to time."

"And that's why Ozpin doesn't trust Specialists, isn't it?" Rainbow guessed. "Because he can't control them."

"That, and he's not a fan of armies in general," said Ironwood. "And he'd prefer it if my students didn't end up in one. Let alone his students." The General fell silent. With one hand, he tugged awkwardly at the tie around his neck. "Dash," he began, sounding as awkward as he suddenly looked, "I don't really know how to... how was it? How was she?"

Rainbow swallowed. "I suppose we have to talk about this, sir."

"You can hardly expect me to ignore it, Dash."

"No, sir," Rainbow murmured. "Have you ever met her?"

"No."

"Lucky you, sir."

General Ironwood frowned. "That bad?"

"Pretty bad, sir, yes," Rainbow admitted. "She... she got inside our heads somehow, it was like she knew our worst fears, knew exactly what to say to ... everyone took it pretty hard, sir."

The General winced. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position," he said. "You understand that you can't talk to a counsellor about this, or to your friends, but my door is open if you want to talk about it."

"Thank you, sir, but right now, I'm more worried about Ciel and Penny," Rainbow replied. It was a generous offer of the General to make, but compared to what Ciel and Penny had been hit with, her own visions felt rather trivial by comparison. Besides, it felt a little late for her, all things considered. "They both got hit pretty hard, and with Penny, it's combined with her injuries... I'm worried they've both been knocked sideways a little."

"So what are you going to do about it?" General Ironwood asked.

"Ciel... Salem got to her through her faith; I'm hoping to help her prove that either Salem was lying or at least not giving all the context. Hopefully, that will help. Penny... I haven't quite figured that out, sir, but I will."

General Ironwood nodded. "And Miss Belladonna?"

Rainbow frowned. "It wasn't Salem thet hit her hardest, sir, or at least, I don't think it was. It was the death of all the White Fang down in the tunnel. Thank you, sir, for releasing her from our service."

"I'm a man of my word, and Miss Belladonna has more than held up her end of the bargain. I'm a little surprised you pushed for it, though. I thought you wanted her to come to Atlas."

"I do, sir, but I want her to want it, and not because she's chained to it or because I keep pushing her that way. I was... I was using Blake as a crutch, putting all my hopes on her so I didn't have to improve. I won't be doing that any more, sir. I'll shape up, and Blake can make her own decision."

General Ironwood said, "I haven't noticed any particular areas in need of improving."

"That doesn't mean they aren't there, sir."

"No," General Ironwood allowed. "Alright then, I look forward to a change in you, Dash. It would be nice to be pleasantly surprised for once. Although I am a little concerned about Miss Belladonna. Who's going to help her work through all this?"

"I... I'll make sure that Team Sapphire keeps an eye on her, sir; I'm sure they'll be happy to do it." Rainbow hesitated momentarily. "General... about Blake, but sort of not, do you ever worry that... do you ever worry that the White Fang have a point about us?"

"I can't say that I do," replied the General. "Unlike the White Fang, we don't attack civilian targets."

"No, sir, but we do leave people behind," Rainbow said. "We race ahead and the faunus – some of the faunus, anyway – get left in the dust. Or, I don't know, it's more of a feeling than a thought; I'm sorry to bother you with it, sir."

"Atlas isn't perfect, Dash; it can always be made better," General Ironwood reminded her. "And if you think you have a way to do that, then by all means, let the world know. But first, I want you to work up that revised mission plan."

"Yes, sir."

"That's all; dismissed."

After her meeting with the General, Rainbow returned to Beacon, and with all her packing done for their imminent departure, she sought out the library.

It was pretty empty, what with the semester having officially finished a few days ago. School was breaking up, some students were going home for the break before the tournament kicked off, and those that were sticking around at Beacon didn't have any assignments due. No one had any reason to haunt the libraries right now.

So it was a good thing that Rainbow wasn't looking for a student.

She found the man she was looking for coming out of one of the back rooms with a stack of books in his arms. He reversed out slowly, his back to Rainbow Dash.

"Yo, bookstore guy."

The big faunus put down the stack of books and turned to face Dash with a mildly baleful look in his dark eyes. "That's Mister Bookstore Guy to you, kid. Or you can just call me Tukson."

"Rainbow Dash," Rainbow introduced herself.

"Appropriate," Tukson observed. "So, you're Blake's handler."

"I'm Blake's friend," Rainbow corrected.

"As I understand it, she was running from you just before that mess at the docks."

Rainbow squirmed. "Yeah, well... a lot's happened since then."

"Yeah, I guess it has," Tukson admitted wistfully. He sighed. "I guess I should be thanking you. Now that the White Fang has been taken care of and Adam's dead, I can finally go back to my store."

"Will you?" Rainbow asked.

"Maybe," Tukson said. "This place, well, it really does have every book under the sun. Every book published in Vale, anyway. I feel as though I could spend a lifetime going through the stacks and still not find every hidden treasure here. But... it's my store. I created it, I built it up. Getting chased out of it was bad enough, but never going back? I don't know; that's not a step I could take lightly. Fortunately, it doesn't seem as though Professor Ozpin is in a rush to kick me out, so I still have time to consider it."

Rainbow folded her arms. "You said that you ought to thank me. I'm guessing that means that you don't actually want to thank me."

"A lot of faunus are dead, from what I understand," Tukson said. "I don't expect Vale to mourn their deaths, but I don't have to rejoice at them."

Rainbow didn't respond to that; it was a fair enough point, and not one that she wanted to discuss further. "Have you spoken to Blake lately?"

"No," Tukson replied. "Why? Is she okay?"

Not really, honestly, but if Blake hadn't sought out Tukson's counsel, then Rainbow wasn't going to share her state. Well, maybe she would, but not right now. "I'm not here to talk about Blake. I was hoping... I was hoping that we could talk about you."

"Me?" Tukson said. "Why do... why?"

"Because the only person I know who used to be in the White Fang is Blake, and the only person I know who is in the White Fang would be too busy crowing to tell me anything useful. Plus, I didn’t give her my number," Rainbow added. "But I know you used to be in the Wjite Fang too."

"That was a while ago, kid, like I told the cops-"

"This isn't about intel," Rainbow assured him. "I just... I want to know why you joined the White Fang."

Tukson's eyes narrowed. "And why would you want to know that?"

"Because..." Rainbow bowed her head a little. "Do you think it's possible that things could improve enough that people wouldn't want to join the White Fang? And if so, wouldn't we need to know the reasons why if we wanted to stop them?"

Tukson took a few moments to respond. "Well, okay," he said heavily. "Why don't we both take a seat? It'll be easier that way."

They sat down at one of the many empty tables in the library, facing one another across the desk as though they were about to work on a term paper together.

Rainbow leaned forwards as she waited for Tukson to speak.

At last, he did so, although as he spoke, he would not meet Rainbow's eyes. "The first thing you have to bear in mind is that the White Fang I joined doesn't exist anymore," he said. "It got replaced by something different, which kept the name and not much else."

"But people still have the same reasons for joining, right?" Rainbow said. "I mean, I know that some of them are psychos, but not all of them."

"No," Tukson agreed. "Not all of them. That's why I can't help but feel sorry for all the ones who died down there in that tunnel: because they weren't all psychotic killers; in fact, I bet most of them were just people who, in a different life, could have been productive citizens."

"In another life?" Rainbow asked. "Or in a better world?"

Tukson said, "Whatever changes are made now, even if they were made today, it would still be too late to draw back some of those that are on the violent path. Reforms, however necessary, can't erase the memory of past injustices, insults, abuses. And for some, those memories will be too much to bear, too much to shrug off. For some, violence will be the only response still."

"Some," Rainbow said. "But not all? And besides, I'm more interested in whether we can break the chain for any new faunus. The fact that... my first friend has joined the White Fang. That... I don't know if I can say how that feels, but... what's done is done. If that's how she wants it, then fine. But if I can stop more Gildas from joining the White Fang, then... that's not bad, right?"

"Not bad at all," Tukson agreed. "If you can pull it off. There are a lot of reasons people join the White Fang."

"Such as?" Rainbow demanded. "Come on, what's your story?"

"I," Tukson began, then paused. "I was Sienna Khan's Teaching Assistant."

Rainbow's eyes widened. "You were what?"

"Sienna Khan's TA, at Mistral University," Tukson repeated. "I covered some of her classes, assisted in her research, and prepared my doctoral thesis on Ares Claudandus."

"The faunus general from the revolution, right?" Rainbow said.

Tukson nodded. "Impressive. Not many people remember the name."

"Yeah, well, I'm not many people," Rainbow said casually.

She thought it best not to mention that the plume of his hat was said to possess magical protective qualities. Although, with what she knew now, it might actually be true.

"Anyway, he was my field of study," Tukson said. "Sienna Khan was, and probably still is, the most accomplished scholar of the post-revolutionary period living. She's written a biography of Claudandus and was very generous with access to her research material, even as she encouraged me to challenge her interpretations in my thesis. Sienna had taken the same view as many at the time, that he sold out and set the stage for the humans to play divide and rule and reverse the outcome of the war. I planned to be more sympathetic. I think Ares was genuinely trying to build an egalitarian society where faunus and humans were equal, and if he sometimes seemed to be favouring the humans... that was pragmatism, not an abandonment of his ideals."

"I'm guessing things didn't work out that way," Rainbow said.

Tukson sighed. "The thing about studying the history of our people at that level is that it really brings home how much of it really sucks. Did you know that after the counter-revolution, the ex-slaves had to pay reparations? Mistral compensated the slave owners for the loss of their property following the Great War, and for twenty years, faunus were taxed higher than humans to pay that money back. What about reparations to the slaves and the descendants of the slaves to compensate them for the hundreds of years of unpaid labour that was forced out of them under threats of violence and death? And it became so easy to connect those historic injustices to present day problems of low income, low home ownership, tenuous employment. Not that anyone wanted to hear about those connections. What Sienna was teaching didn't fit the narrative of glorious Mistral, ancient and honourable. She was warned by the faculty about inserting too much polemic into her writing, campaigners alleged that she was teaching human students to hate themselves and their race, the Council brought in laws restricting how faunus history could be taught-"

"And was she?" Rainbow asked.

"Was she what?"

"Was she teaching the human students to hate themselves?" Rainbow explained. "I mean, we are talking about Sienna Khan."

"She wasn't the same person then, and no," Tukson insisted. "She was just trying to open their eyes to the truth. But people didn't want to hear the truth; they just wanted us to be grateful that things were better than they had been in the past, as though we should be grateful that we weren't slaves any more. Sienna decided that she couldn't be complicit in that any more, she couldn't record the problems of the past while ignoring the problems of the present. And I went with her. I wasn't going to stay on at the university without her.

"Sienna Khan was welcomed into the high echelons of the White Fang immediately. The Belladonnas were trying to restore the movement after it had atrophied years before, and they were grateful for the support of a heavyweight intellectual with a public profile. That's how I met Blake's parents: Sienna was good enough to keep me by her side for a while." Tukson stopped. "That doesn't really help, does it?"

"It's... kind of specific," Rainbow said.

"I probably should have warned you about that," Tukson conceded. "And even some of the problems I mentioned are more specific to Mistral than Atlas, but... wait here a second; I might have something that will help you more."

He got up and disappeared into the back, leaving Rainbow to sit drumming her fingers on the table as she waited.

Although it didn't help, if what Tukson said about the history lessons was true, it was kind of worrying. Was there stuff she didn't know not because she hadn't been paying attention but because no one was supposed to know? Had things been changed, made to seem different than they really were? Surely not; Atlas was not Mistral; they didn't need to massage their history as a salve to their national ego because the future belonged to them, and they were racing towards it. But, if it was happening, how would she know? Would anyone know, even Twilight?

Blake would know, if anyone did, but Rainbow was loath to bring it up to her, partly because she had enough going on and partly because she... Well, kind of like those Mistralians who had campaigned against Sienna Khan, Rainbow didn't want to damage Blake's perception of Atlas.

Damaging her own perception was bad enough.

Tukson returned and set down in front of Rainbow Dash a book with a faded cover depicting a lion faunus mounted upon a white horse. The faunus wore a blue jacket and a bright red cape that streamed out behind him as his galloping mount bore him along. In his hat was set an enormous white plume, bent back by the air resistance.

The book was titled: A Very God of War: A Life of Ares Claudandus.

It was by Sienna Khan.

Rainbow looked up at Tukson incredulously.

"Like I said, no one's bettered her scholarship since," Tukson explained, "and if you really want to build an equal society, then you could do a lot worse than read about the last guy who tried."

Rainbow reached out gingerly, as though even touching a book written by Sienna Khan would infect her with White Fang-ness. Her fingers brushed against the faded cover. Nothing happened; she didn't feel anything except, well, a book cover.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to take this? I'm going back to Atlas-"

"Don't worry, that's not a library book; that's my own copy," Tukson explained. "Call it a thank you, for all that you've done for Blake."

Take a Trip (New)

Take a Trip

Blake's eyebrows rose. "You... you gave her Sienna Khan's Life of Ares Claudandus?"

"Yeah," Tukson said, as though he couldn't see the problem – probably because he couldn't. "I thought she might get something out of it."

"It's Ares Claudandus!" Blake exclaimed. "Yes, it's unfair that the historical narrative has erased faunus actors from our own revolution, and yes, his generalship deserves to be remembered admiringly, but... this is a man who ruled Mistral in all but name for eighteen months, and in that time, he made divorce illegal, ordered that in the last resort, struggling marriages were to be referred to him so he could decide how best to motivate the couple... in Ares' Mistral, I would have been sent back to Adam and told it was my fault for not trying hard enough to make him happy."

"That's Sienna's interpretation," Tukson replied.

"And it's Sienna's book; what other interpretation is going to be in there?" Blake demanded.

Tukson said, "You don't think-"

"No, I don't think Rainbow Dash is going to become a creep obsessed with other people's sex lives," Blake admitted. "But leaving aside whether she might be as put off by all of that as I was... do you really think it was a good idea to expose an Atlesian to the ideas of a man who held that the people existed to serve the good of the state, not the other way around?"

"The community," Tukson corrected her. "Not the state."

"Whose community was being served when Claudandus decided to reinstate plantation slavery?" Blake asked.

"Is it still slavery when the workers were to receive ten percent of the harvest?" Tukson replied.

"Is it freedom when overseers had the right to beat the workers with clubs and the field hands were legally prohibited from leaving?" Blake shot back.

"Contrary to Sienna's view, I never thought that was Claudandus selling out to the great families," Tukson said. "I think it was a pragmatic decision to get the economy back on track after years of war."

"You could excuse the SDC and all of its abuses on those grounds," Blake argued. "'Yes, it's labour practices are criminally abusive, but the economy!'"

Tukson was silent for a moment. "I suppose you have a point there, and I won't say that the man was perfect, but he had a sincere vision of how to bring humans and faunus together in harmony, and I thought it would do your friend good to be exposed to that. Too many people don't realise that the incarnations of the White Fang aren't the only path to equal standing the faunus have pursued."

"That's true," Blake allowed. "Although that might be a testament to how unsuccessful the others were. I just... I wish I could say for sure what Rainbow would take from it. If I was going to be around to correct any... misconceptions that she might get then... but I won't. Rainbow's team is returning to Atlas for a while before the tournament, but I won't be going with them. I thought about visiting Atlas myself, but... I'm not wanted there anymore."

"Is that what they told you?"

"Rainbow told me my services weren't required anymore."

"I can believe they're not," Tukson said. "I mean the White Fang..."

Blake bowed her head. The two of them were sat outside, on one of the verandas that overlooked the city of Vale. Above the highest towers, the great shops of the Atlesian fleet prowled the skies, symbols of the immense power that had, for a brief season, been her master... and now had cast her off, redundant.

She felt Tukson put his arm around her shoulders. "How are you doing, with all of this?"

Blake closed her eyes. "He let Fluttershy go," she whispered.

"Who?"

"Fluttershy," Blake repeated. "A friend of Rainbow Dash; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Adam caught her. Except he let her go. He showed... kindness, to her. He released her, for no gain and no reason.

"A part of me would like nothing more than to say that Adam was too far gone, that he couldn't be reasoned with, that he had to be stopped, and a part of believes it, but... but then I remember that he let Fluttershy go... and I'm not sure that I can believe it any more.

"And then... everyone else down there, all those faunus... I know that they were willing to put Vale at risk, but-"

"But that doesn't mean you don't regret it," Tukson murmured.

Blake glanced at him. "There was nothing I could do, there were so many grimm, and we needed to-"

"I'm not blaming you," Tukson assured her. "I don't have the right; no one does." He paused. "I wish that I knew what to say to make it all better, but... but I don't know if there are any words to make it better."

"Probably not," Blake whispered.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," Blake said softly.

Tukson squeezed her shoulder. "Can I ask you to do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Don't forget that you're not alone," Tukson implored her. "You've got people here who care about you, Blake. Remember that."

Blake stepped silently into General Ironwood's office aboard ship and then waited, in equal silence, for him to speak.

"Thank you for coming, Miss Belladonna," General Ironwood said, rising courteously to his feet as the door closed behind Blake. "I'm sorry about the short notice of my invitation, I realised that I didn't know if you had any plans for the break, and I didn't want to miss you."

"It's fine, sir; I wasn't busy," Blake said, not feeling the need to explain to him that she wasn't planning to be busy for the near future either. "I was a little surprised that you wanted to see me, however."

"Really?" General Ironwood asked.

"Yes, sir," Blake replied quietly. "I thought you were done with me."

General Ironwood frowned ever so slightly. "You don't sound overjoyed by the fact."

"Was I supposed to be?" Blake demanded. "Is that all the impression that any of you have formed of me over the past semester, that I'd be glad to be out? That I'd be delighted to be stuck on the sidelines doing what, nothing?"

"Miss Belladonna-" General Ironwood began.

Blake ploughed on as though he hadn't spoken. "All the missions I've been on, with all the different people, and that's who you all think I am? All the time I've spent with-"

"Miss Belladonna, it's going to be hard for me to defend myself if you don't let me get a word in edgeways," General Ironwood said in a tone of gentle reproof, seasoned lightly with a touch of amusement.

Blake felt her cheeks heat up a little. "Sorry, sir, I just... I've always had a hard time keeping my opinions to myself."

"I understand," said the General. "What I'm not sure you understand is what's going on. You're not being put out to pasture, by any means. But, we had an agreement: you would assist my forces when necessary to deal with the White Fang threat to Vale, and in exchange, we would keep you out of jail. The White Fang threat to Vale has ended."

"But there's so much more going on now, sir," Blake insisted. "Or at least, I know so much more about what's really going on. With so many forces at your command, I can see why you might think that you don't need me, but I swear, I can be useful to you."

"Is that what you want?" General Ironwood asked. "You want to be useful?"

"I want to play my part, sir," Blake replied. "Yes, I want to be useful. Knowing what I know now, I can't just turn away, or stand back and let other people handle it. General, how much do you know about what happened under Mountain Glenn?"

"Dash submitted her report," General Ironwood replied. "She told me everything."

"Then you know that a lot of faunus died in that tunnel," Blake said. "The White Fang wasn't created by Salem, she didn't even turn it into what it is today, but she got her hooks into it, and she used it, and she caused the deaths of hundreds of people. If I can prevent that from happening again, if I can do anything at all to prevent the spread of her influence that brings about so much death and misery, then I want to do it."

The corners of General Ironwood's lips twitched upwards in a smile. "You could be making this pitch to Ozpin instead of me."

"It wasn't Professor Ozpin who put his faith in me, sir," Blake said. "You did. And if it had been up to Professor Ozpin alone, I don't think I ever would have found out about Salem or the rest. And it isn't Professor Ozpin whose forces I've been assisting all semester. I've spent more time with the Atlas forces than I have with any Beacon team, even my own... either of my own. That's why it hurt when you cut me loose-"

"Can I ask what it is that Dash said to you that made you think this was such a dramatic severing of ties between us?" General Ironwood asked.

Blake frowned. "Her exact words were, 'You're free,' sir."

"Well, you're no longer at my beck and call, or that of Atlas. In that sense, if you wanted nothing more to do with us, then you could walk away, and I would have neither power nor will to stop you."

"But I-"

"But I didn't intend, nor do I think Dash meant to imply, that we wanted nothing more to do with you," General Ironwood said, cutting Blake off before she could build up another head of steam. "If Dash implied otherwise... from what she's told me, she feels that she's been putting a lot of pressure on you, and she regrets it."

"I don't think that she has anything to regret, sir; Rainbow was never anything less than honest about what she wanted from me and why she wanted it. That's part of the reason why this sudden turnaround was so, well, sudden. It's one of the reasons I thought we must be about to part ways."

"Perhaps you ought to tell her that yourself, it might prevent future misunderstandings," General Ironwood suggested gently. "For my part... you've been on several missions with my people now; how have you found it?"

"Your students are... very characterful, sir," Blake said.

General Ironwood chuckled. "They are indeed. I'm sure that every headmaster loves their students – at least, I hope they do – but these kids... Miss Belladonna, why do you think that in Atlas, we push so hard to get graduates to move onto the Specialist track inside the military?"

"I think you're about to tell me, sir."

General Ironwood paused. "Oz told me once that being a headmaster is the best job in Remnant, and the worst. The best because you get to watch these brilliant kids, these impossibly brave young men and women, walk through your halls, and you get to help them become the best versions of themselves possible. And it's also the worst because, after four years of knowing them, guiding them, nurturing them... you have to kick them out to let them risk death on a daily basis facing unimaginable horrors. There are many tactical advantages to having a Corps of Specialists in the military, but I must confess that part of it is... I don't have it in me to just cut these kids loose. This way, I can keep an eye on them, and I can keep giving them the support they need, as best I can." Once more, he paused. "Oz says that I can't protect them forever, and that's true. I've lost good kids... I've lost so many. But even if I can't protect them, I'd like to be able to say that I tried."

Blake blinked. She felt the absurd urge to go over to the General and give him a hug. The fact that she doubted he would appreciate it if she did was only one of the reasons why she refrained. "Sir, I don't need protection-"

General Ironwood's voice was tinged with bitterness as he said. "Then it's a good job that I haven't protected you, isn't it? I owe you an apology, Miss Belladonna; regardless of your desire to be in the thick of things, I shouldn't have sent you or Team Rosepetal into Mountain Glenn; I shouldn't have sent anyone in without laying on more support than I did. As Dash reminded me, it's my job to do what's right for my people, regardless of the opinions of others. What you encountered down there, what happened to you, it would tax a far more experienced huntsman. The fact that you're eager to throw yourself back into the fray afterwards... it either says something very good or very bad about you."

Blake frowned slightly. "Which do you think it is, sir?"

"I'm not entirely sure, yet," General Ironwood admitted. "After all of this and your upset when you thought that our working relationship was coming to an end, I take it that working with my people wasn't unpleasant for you?"

"No, sir, quite the opposite. Or at least, the unpleasantness didn't come from your people."

"I'm glad to hear it," General Ironwood said. "Just as you'll be glad to hear that everyone who has worked with you has sung your praises. However, both Dash and Lulamoon noted with concern what they described as a courage verging on disregard for your own safety."

"Shouldn't a good huntress be willing to sacrifice themselves to protect others?"

"Willing, yes, but not eager," General Ironwood informed her. "You can only die once, Miss Belladonna, and you can often save more lives by using your head than by using your body as a breastwork." The General turned away, leaning on his desk with both hands. "I once had the... the pleasure of teaching a very gifted student: talented, intelligent, diligent, popular with everyone who knew him. But, although he was an Atlesian, his ancestry derived from Mistral, from a warrior family old in honour, and his head rang with those ideals: chivalry, honour, personal heroism. This student was at a training camp, when they came under sudden and severe grimm attack. He, along with some other brave students, volunteered to assist the instructors in covering the evacuation of the rest of the student body. However, even when the rest of the camp had been evacuated and the order to pull out was given, he refused to abandon his post. Turning your back on the enemy is not, it seems, what a hero does. I sent a team to get him out of there, to drag him out if they had to... but they were too late.

"It comforted his sister to know that he had died a hero, bravely and with honour, a true heir to the traditions of their clan," Ironwood went on, bitterness ringing in his words. "But how much more might such a gifted student have accomplished by living to fight on, than by dying for the sake of his personal dignity?"

The General turned to face her once more. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bore you with my personal recollections."

"It's fine, sir," Blake said. "I... I'm sorry about your student."

"What's done is done," General Ironwood replied. "But thank you for your condolences." He took a deep breath. "You're no longer bound to the service of Atlas, but that doesn't mean that I can't find a place for you with us, if you wish me to. We can always use people of your calibre. Is that what you want?"

Blake hesitated. "I... I think so, sir. Sir, do you know Ares Claudandus?"

"The revolutionary?"

"Yes, sir," Blake acknowledged. "I don't think highly of every value he held or decision he made, but in the period between his victory and the betrayal by his lieutenants, he planned to maintain his army, a faunus army, as a force both to protect the Kingdom of Mistral and to maintain order within it. He hoped that the faunus would trust faunus soldiers as they did not trust mostly human huntsmen. Maybe it would have worked. Maybe if there were more faunus in your army, people would start to see that as normal instead of selling out, and maybe they'd start to trust your troops instead of the White Fang."

General Ironwood nodded. "You think the military can bring about social change?"

"You said yourself that it was a great engine, sir," Blake reminded him. "Sir, if I had to come up with just one word to describe your people, it would be... it would be hard, I admit, and open to challenge, but the word I'd choose would be 'righteous.' Everyone is trying to do the right thing. That's what I want to do as well, sir. As I see it, I can do everything that a huntress could, and a lot more that they couldn't."

"But you're not a hundred percent certain?"

Blake shook her head. "It feels... unfair on Team Iron, and there's a part of me that feels that if the battle against Salem remains in Vale, then it would be almost desertion to leave Team Sapphire to it and run away to Atlas."

General Ironwood nodded. "Then take the break to think it over. Get some rest, Belladonna; there'll be plenty of battles to fight without going out of your way to seek them out."

"Yes sir, I... I'll try, sir."

Blake decided to take General Ironwood's advice and speak to Rainbow Dash about precisely what the Atlesian girl had meant to convey versus what she had, in fact, conveyed to Blake.

As she approached the RSPT dorm – she was fortunate they hadn't transferred to their ship yet – she could hear voices coming from within, muffled by the door so she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nevertheless, despite the risk that she would be interrupting something, Blake pressed on. Although General Ironwood had put her more, well, general fears to bed, she wanted to clear the air over the more specific fears she had with Rainbow Dash.

General Ironwood, it seemed, did not want her gone. He simply didn't want to possess her either, but was content to let her come to him, if she so wished.

If she so wished. She did wish it, having admitted the fact to General Ironwood made it easier to admit it to herself; she did wish it, and the reasons why she might not or ought not do it were becoming few and far between.

She wished it, and until very recently, it had seemed that Rainbow Dash wished it too, and ardently so. Blake hoped that that was still the case, and she wanted to make sure, even if it did mean interrupting something.

Blake approached the door and knocked on it.

Her knocking did nothing, as far as she could tell, to stem the flow of conversation within. As the door opened, Blake could finally tell what was being said.

"All I'm saying is, you can be a little insensitive sometimes," Fluttershy said, in a tone whose softness did not quite manage to make the words spoken or sentiments expressed seem soft.

Rainbow made a sound like she was choking on her indignation. "I am not insensitive! I am... hyper-sensitive!"

"Hey, Blake!" Twilight, who had opened the door, said rather more loudly than necessary. "Everyone, look; it's Blake!"

Now, the conversation stilled, leaving no doubt whatsoever in Blake's mind that they had been talking about her.

Fluttershy was worried that Rainbow had been insensitive when talking to Blake? Well, if she'd been wrong, Blake wouldn't have been here.

Twilight stepped back, allowing Blake inside. Twilight's right hand glowed momentarily lavender as she closed the door with her telekinesis.

In the room, besides Twilight and now Blake, were Rainbow Dash, Applejack, and Fluttershy.

Blake didn't look at Fluttershy. She couldn't bring herself to... she didn't want to be reminded of... looking at Fluttershy, thinking about Fluttershy, would lead to thinking about Adam too. It was unfair on Fluttershy, perhaps, but there it was. And Blake didn't want to think about Adam right now, which meant that she didn't want to think about Fluttershy either.

So she ignored her and hoped that it wasn't too obvious.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said softly.

"It's fine, sugarcube," replied Applejack. "We was just..." She trailed off without explaining what exactly they had been just, as though Blake couldn't have guessed already.

Rainbow thrust her hands into her pockets. "Blake, hey," she said. "How... how's Ruby doing, do you know?"

"No change, last I heard," murmured Blake. "I asked Sunset to keep me posted."

"Right, and I'm sure she'll let me know too," Rainbow said. She glanced away. "I spoke to your friend Tukson."

"I know," Blake replied. "I've spoken to him as well. Don't... that book is... Ares Claudandus had many admirable qualities, and some that were... not nearly so admirable. You should keep that in mind before you take him for a role model or assume too much about the person who recommended that you take him as a role model."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "Will do."

Blake was silent for a moment, hoping that Rainbow would make the first move.

Rainbow, for her part, did not oblige.

"I... spoke to General Ironwood-" Blake began.

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Twilight exclaimed. "Rainbow Dash, will you just tell her?"

"I don't know how!" Rainbow snapped. "It's not that easy!"

Blake resisted the temptation to fold her arms. "Tell me what?"

"I don't know how to tell you that I want you to come to Atlas without telling you that I want you to come to Atlas!" Rainbow shouted.

There was a moment of silence, broken by Applejack stifling a snort.

"You see?" Rainbow cried. "That's why I didn't say it; it sounds stupid."

"What you said at the hospital sounded worse," Blake pointed out. "I thought you were trying to get rid of me."

"Why would you think that?" Rainbow asked in disbelief.

"Because you sounded like you were trying to get rid of me!" Blake snapped.

"That wasn't... I'm sorry, but I didn't mean to... if you really got that from what I said, then... I only meant-"

"As I told you, I've spoken to General Ironwood," Blake said. "Rainbow, you've got nothing to feel guilty about on the way you've acted towards me."

"Don't I?" Rainbow asked. "I put you up on a pedestal, perfect Princess Blake who was going to make everything better in Atlas, and the worst part is that I did it to excuse my own issues. I didn't have to worry about improving myself to help make Atlas an even better place, because I was going to make Atlas better by giving it you. Even after Sunset made me realise what I was doing, I still pushed you to make a choice I wanted."

"I-" Blake began.

Rainbow held up a hand. "Don't stop me now, or I might not be able to start again. I... I don't have the right to tell you to come to Atlas, or to make you come to Atlas, or to... only, I've so much of that that I don't think I can say how I feel because it will sound as if I’m still pushing you just like I always did."

"I... I see," Blake murmured. "Rainbow Dash, whatever you may think of what you did and said, I always understood what you meant. I'm not an idiot or a naive girl who can be taken in by a sales pitch. I heard you, and I understood you, and I watched and I kept my eyes and ears open for the truth, and the truth is... Well, that doesn't really matter; what matters is that the only time I didn't understand you was at the hospital, where I heard you telling me that I wasn't wanted or needed any more."

"That's not what I-"

"Now let me finish," Blake said. "I thought that you were throwing me away at the moment when I had given... everything for you, and that hurt. And I know you didn't mean it, but it still hurt. But it's okay, because now... now we understand each other again, I hope, and you can tell me how you feel without feeling as if you're doing anything else."

Rainbow looked at her. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "If you came to Atlas, I'd be delighted," she croaked. "You're the best huntress I've ever worked with – no offence, Applejack."

"None taken," Applejack said genially.

Rainbow went on, "You're brave and determined, and you never give up, and we'd be as lucky to have someone like you as you'd be lucky to have somewhere like Atlas. Maybe luckier." She coughed. "But, it's up to you, totally your decision, nothing I can say or do, nothing that I want to say or do."

"That's right," Blake said. "It is my decision. And a decision that I've almost made. I haven't made it yet, but I'm getting there."

"Good," Rainbow said. "That's... good."

Blake admired her restraint in not prying into what that decision might be.

Twilight sighed. "Is that it? Are you good now?"

"I... think so?" Rainbow ventured.

Blake nodded. "We're good. And I'm glad, because... because the last thing I wanted was... I would never have guessed when I met you that meeting you would turn out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me, but... but it was." Blake hesitated. "But now... now I should probably-"

"Blake," Fluttershy said.

Blake froze. She still didn't look at Fluttershy. She didn't want to look at Fluttershy. She couldn't look at Fluttershy; if she did-

"Blake," Fluttershy repeated. "I'm so sorry about Adam. I know that I didn't know him very long, but-"

"Stop," Blake whispered. "Please stop."

"Blake," Fluttershy said. "Won't you look at me?"

Blake didn't want to look, and yet, she felt herself drawn that way, her eyes and her whole body compelled until she was looking at Fluttershy.

"It's okay for you to be sad," Fluttershy said. "You don't have to pretend that you don't care."

Blake stood still for a moment, and then, the next thing she knew, there were tears running down her face, as many tears as faunus had died under Mountain Glenn, tears for a sweet brave boy named Adam, for the cruel and spiteful man he had become... and for the glimpse of the boy who had let Fluttershy go before the end.

She staggered forwards and into Fluttershy's embrace. Soft lilac hair covered Blake's face like a towel to dry her tears.

"I loved him," Blake sobbed.

"It's okay," said Fluttershy.

"He was dangerous and relentless, and he had to be stopped, but I loved him."

"And you don't have to be ashamed of that," Fluttershy told her. "Not here, not with us."

Blake let out another sob. "I'm glad that... I was glad that none of you asked me how I was doing, because the truth is... the truth is, I don't feel okay right now."

"No," Applejack murmured. "No, Ah can't say Ah'm surprised to hear it."

"That's why Applejack, Twilight, and I want you to come to Atlas with us," Fluutershy said.

Blake blinked. "'Come to Atlas'? You mean now?"

"Some of us," Fluttershy said, "don't think you should be alone right now."

"I wasn't going to just leave her alone; I was gonna make sure that Team Sapphire were there for her!" Rainbow exclaimed indignantly.

"But it sounds as though they've got their hands full with Ruby," Fluttershy said.

"There's her own... there's the team that she's technically on," Rainbow said.

"You said you didn't know them well enough to be sure they'd take care of Blake," Fluttershy said.

"Well, I don't, but-"

"Give it up, partner," Applejack advised.

Rainbow sighed. "Yeah, you're right; I don't know why I bother arguing."

"Neither do we," Twilight muttered.

Blake considered. Going to Atlas – the city, not the school? It wasn't as though she hadn't thought about it. She had thought very seriously about it, as a matter of fact, and at one time had planned to do just that this break. Now, though? Just because the White Fang had been beaten didn't mean that Cinder was, or Salem, and as much as General Ironwood had told her to take a break, did she really want to go to Atlas and leave SAPR to take the strain if anything came up?

"I... I'm not sure that's a good idea," she murmured.

"I'm sure no one will mind," Fluttershy said. "No one could object to you taking care of yourself, or being taken care of."

"But there might be things that need to be taken care of-"

"And I'm sure there are plenty of other people who can take care of them while you take care of you," Fluttershy replied. "And after all, things look set to calm down for a while, don't they, Rainbow Dash?"

"Yep," Rainbow said. "It will take a while for our enemies to recover from this. Even if they plan to come at us again, they'll have to prep from scratch, and that will take time."

"A perfect time to recuperate and recover your strength," Fluttershy added.

"I've done practically no preparation with my team for the tournament-"

"I'm sure your teammates would agree that your wellbeing is more important than some silly tournament," Fluttershy said, her tone sweet and soft and infuriatingly reasonable. "And if they didn't, their opinions wouldn't be worth caring about."

"Plus, I highly doubt you really care about the tournament," Twilight added. "It was just the last excuse you could come up with."

Blake pushed some of Fluttershy's hair out of her face so that she could look at the other girl. "There's nothing I can say, is there?"

Fluttershy smiled. "Let us take care of you, Blake."

"Fluttershy always wins," Rainbow murmured.

"Why?" Blake asked. "Why does it matter to you? Why do I matter to you?"

"Why?" Fluttershy repeated. "Didn't you realise? You're one of us now, Blake."

Applejack grinned. "And we always look after our own."

"One of... you?" Blake murmured. She could have argued, she could have questioned, she could have done any number of things, but really, what round be the point? Why would she want to?

When it felt so warm in Fluttershy's arms, why would she want to pull away?

Wasn't this what she'd been looking for, to belong to something?

She closed her eyes and leaned into Fluttershy's embrace. "Thank you."

Farewell and Adieu (New)

Farewell and Adieu

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Flash said as they sat in the lounge waiting for their airship to start boarding. “I expected that, when I told you I was going home for a visit, that I’d have a fight on my hands.”

Weiss raised one arched eyebrow as she looked at him. “Really? And why might that be?”

The two of them were sat in the departure lounge of the Vale Heatherfield Skydock. The chairs on which they sat were royal blue, well padded but not particularly comfortable for all of that, while the carpet beneath their feet was a paler shade and quite well-worn. The lounge was just under half full, with many empty seats including, fortunately, around Weiss and Flash. One wall was made up entirely of windows, showing the gigantic skyliners as they waited for takeoff on the concrete outside, while the others were painted in a plain, slightly off-white. A stall selling coffee, cakes, and sandwiches stood before the east wall, while a couple of vending machines, one selling drinks and one selling sweets, sat against the north.

Flash raised one hand preemptively. “I’m not saying that you’re a tyrant or anything-”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Weiss said. “I don’t think I’ve exhibited any tyrannical tendencies in my entire time as team leader.”

“You haven’t,” Flash assured. “You’ve been a great team leader.”

“Let’s not overcompensate for one falsehood with another, shall we?” Weiss asked. “The fact is that, if I had been a little more tyrannical at times, I might have been a better team leader.”

“You think?”

“I allowed Cardin a lot of leeway, and look what he did with it,” Weiss pointed out.

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m the team leader,” Weiss said. “Everything is my fault. But you were expecting me to row with you for some reason?”

“Well, it’s just that the Vytal Festival is almost here,” Flash reminded her. “Actually almost here, not ‘almost here’ the way the professors have been telling us that it’s 'almost here' practically since we arrived. It’s almost here, and this is probably our last chance to get in some training to make sure that we get selected to compete… only, thanks to me, we’re going to miss that chance.”

A chance we need more than some other teams, you mean, Weiss thought. “Because of us,” she corrected him.

“Yeah,” Flash murmured. “That’s what surprised me. I thought you’d want to stay here and get ready for the tournament.”

Weiss hesitated, because of course, the truth was that was exactly what she’d rather be doing. Flash was right about that, and about the fact that this was their last chance to get in any practice as a team before the tournament selections were made, and that Team WWSR needed the practice more than some other teams. Team SAPR were a man down at the moment, with Ruby in hospital, but even if she didn’t wake up until right before the Last Shot, Weiss had little doubt that, between the semblances of Sunset and Jaune, and Pyrrha’s all round skill, they would still impress Professor Ozpin enough to get selected for the tournament. It was Pyrrha Nikos, for crying out loud; if she weren’t selected, then Mistral would probably declare war on Vale or something.

Team WWSR had no such assurance. They had not impressed particularly during the year – well, not at first; Weiss had some hope that their good service with the police and their glowing reports from Lieutenant Martinez might have clawed them back some of the respect of the faculty – and so, for them, the Last Shot might really be their last chance at impressing Professor Ozpin.

Unless Professor Ozpin was so moved by the name of Schnee and the fear of offending her father that he always meant to put her through to the tournament regardless.

But he had never given her that impression in any of her meetings with him. And besides, she wasn’t sure if she’d really want that.

No. No, she was sure. She was sure that she did not want that. She was the heiress to the Schnee name and company, but she was not her father. She didn’t intend to have everything in her life handed to her. She would take it for herself, just like her grandfather had.

Or she would try, which would be much harder in the case of Vytal Festival glory if they were not selected because they had no time to practice as a team.

She could say that she wasn’t that interested in the Vytal Festival, but while she certainly didn’t consider it to be the be-all and end-all – she had come to Beacon to learn how to be a huntress, not a Mistralian tournament fighter – the fact remained that she did want to represent herself in the Amity Colosseum, if only to set herself apart from her father on the world stage and show Remnant that she was a different kind of Schnee.

And besides, she had made no secret of the fact that she had Vytal ambitions in front of Flash, Cardin, and Russel when they had collectively resolved to get their acts together. She could hardly pretend that she had been lying.

Nor did she feel that she had to. Flash was her teammate, her friend, someone who, if he were not her teammate – and were she not the leader of Team WWSR – she might have considered as something more than a friend. She could tell him the truth; she could trust him with the truth. It wasn’t as though he would use it against her.

“I’m not… I’m not going home because I want to,” she admitted. “I’m going home because…” She hesitated. Saying that she had no choice in the matter sounded rather melodramatic, even in her head. “I’m going home because I promised that I would.”

“'Promised'?” Flash asked, his eyes narrowing a little. “Promised who?”

“My father,” Weiss replied. “Do you remember that spot of trouble that Cardin got himself into earlier this semester?”

Flash managed to grin in spite of the circumstances. “How can I forget?” he asked. “For a moment there, I thought we were all going to be tarred as racists for the rest of our lives. Never allowed to live it down.”

“You’re taking that prospect rather well,” Weiss observed.

“It wasn’t really Cardin’s fault,” Flash said. “I mean, he was an idiot, and I wasn’t happy with him at the time, but the fact that the rest of us got pulled in… just because of what happened to my father doesn’t mean that I have to hate all faunus, and just because the SDC enjoys a certain… reputation doesn’t mean that you have to hate them either. If people assume our thoughts and feelings because of stuff like that, then that’s on them. It’s not Cardin’s fault; he’s only to blame for the things he did.” Flash paused. “And besides, while I was a little worried for a minute, it all seemed to blow over pretty quick, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Weiss said softly. “There’s a reason for that. I asked my father if he would have his PR people take care of it.”

Flash’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“As you might imagine, a not inconsiderable amount of their time is spent countering the accusations of racism and impropriety levelled against the SDC,” Weiss said, diplomatically leaving out whether the accusations were justified or not. “They’re very good at what they do. I don’t know how they do it, exactly, but they manage to sweep these things under the rug very expertly, making sure that stories like ours are quickly forgotten.”

“And they-”

“Got to work, yes,” Weiss said. “And I, for one, was quite relieved when they did.”

Flash’s mouth hung open for a moment. “You didn’t mention that at the time,” he said quietly.

Weiss shrugged. “What would have been the point?”

“Our gratitude?”

Weiss snorted. “I will take gratitude for things that I’ve actually accomplished, not for calling my father and asking him to make my problems go away.”

"All the same," Flash said, "I am grateful. I can smile about it now, but… at the time, it was kind of nerve-wracking, thinking that that might follow me for the rest of my life."

"I don't think it would have followed us for the rest of our lives," Weiss replied, "but the rest of our time at Beacon would have been bad enough. In any case, your gratitude… your gratitude belongs to my father." That was a bitter thing to say, and it had to be dragged out of Weiss throat by such effort of will that she might as well have cast glyphs in her windpipe to drive it out. "He was the one who made all of that go away and made it possible for us to go on with that… unpleasantness forgotten."

"Is that why you're going home?" Flash asked. "Gratitude to your father?"

"I'm going home because that was my father's price," Weiss muttered, a scowl settling upon her features. "He wants me back for a little while. My mother has missed me terribly, it seems."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Flash said.

"I'm not sure that it's true," Weiss said. "My mother… wasn't around enough when I was growing up to miss me when I'm gone."

Her mother didn't really miss anyone, so long as she had a well-stocked drinks cabinet, but Weiss was not cruel enough nor indiscrete enough to say so in front of Flash. He was her friend, but… there were some things, you just didn't say in front of outsiders. Some things were best kept within the family, as it were.

Flash's face fell. "You really don't want to go back, do you?"

Weiss was silent for a moment. "Why did you come to Beacon?"

Flash blinked. "You… are you asking me why I want to be a huntsman?"

"No," Weiss said. "No, I know why you're training; what I mean is… why not Atlas? Everyone else from your combat school seems to have gone there except for Sunset, and I can understand why a faunus might want to get away. I can see why Pyrrha chose Beacon – Haven's reputation is absolute garbage – but you… why did you choose Beacon over Atlas?"

"Because I want to be a huntsman," Flash said simply.

"Not a soldier?" Weiss asked.

"I'm not going to say anything against the Specialists, not even where Rainbow can't hear me," Flash said at once, a smile briefly appearing upon his face, illuminating for a moment his deep blue eyes, "but if I had gone to and graduated from Atlas, if I'd gone into the Corps of Specialists, I wouldn't have been a huntsman or soldier, not really. My mom… she's the Council's lawyer; she's the one who tells them if the new laws are going to clash with any old laws, whether she thinks a proposed decree is constitutional, what the likely challenges are. She's not famous, almost nobody outside of political insiders knows who she is, but she knows how the deals are done and where the bodies are buried, and she's got influence. She didn't want me to go to any academy, but she couldn't stop me… but, I knew that if I went to Atlas, joined the military like most do, she'd use her pull to get me assigned to some safe position counting ration packs or something, nothing that would put me in danger. Nothing that would help people."

"She doesn't want to lose you," Weiss murmured.

"That's my choice," Flash replied. "It's not hers to make. So what about you? Why did you choose Beacon over Atlas? After all, your sister went to Atlas, and she seems to have turned out okay."

"Winter," Weiss declared, "has turned out a lot more than 'okay.' She'll be commanding general when General Ironwood retires, maybe even headmaster too."

Flash grinned. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Weiss said primly. "Everyone else did."

"You must be proud."

"Winter doesn't need my pride," Weiss said. "But she is… an example to me. She's made her own way in the world, carved out a place for herself, and she did it purely on her own merits."

"Are you sure about that?" Flash asked.

Weiss gave him an old-fashioned look.

Flash held up his hands. "I'm just saying… this is Atlas we're talking about, and she's a Schnee; you both are. Do you really think that that doesn't matter, that it didn't matter to anyone who helped your sister get where she is today?"

"My father didn't want Winter to go to Atlas Academy," Weiss said. "He certainly didn't want her joining the military, and he wouldn't help her to advance once she got there."

"But the name still carries weight, especially to people who don't know what you just told me," Flash reminded her. He paused. "Was he worried about her?"

Weiss snorted. "Hardly. He had me, and my brother Whitley, and he'd always had us in case anything happened to Winter. I think… honestly, Father finds all of this beneath him. Fighting, swords, aura, semblances… that's all something for other people to do. Poorer people. Lesser people. People who can't afford to have other people do it for them. People whose power doesn't rest on more lien than many could possibly imagine. Father saw Winter lowering herself, and in a way that would compel her to take orders from someone else, someone inferior, and he didn't like it." She sighed as the memory of those arguments rose to the forefront of her mind. "He didn't like it one bit, and he liked it even less when he made clear his displeasure, and yet, she did it anyway."

Flash looked away. His expression was strained, awkward, like someone who has found themselves eavesdropping on an uncomfortably personal conversation. "You… your father…" he said quietly, his voice a little choked. "He sounds like… he sounds like-"

"I know," Weiss murmured, not forcing him to say anything that went against the image that every Atlesian possessed of Jacques Schnee: the titan of industry, the captain of innovation, the guarantor of Atlas' financial and technological supremacy. Perhaps it had been wrong of her to tell him all this, to intimate what he really was, but if she could let anyone see the truth, it was Flash.

Nevertheless, he looked rather uncomfortable, and for that, she felt sorry. "Well… if you need any help," he said, "just give me a call, okay?"

Weiss smiled. "You'll ride in on a white horse to rescue me?"

Flash let out a self-deprecating chuckle as a blush rose to his cheeks. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't," Weiss assured him. "It sounds very sweet." She leaned forward and planted a gentle peck upon his cheek. "Thank you."

Flash's mouth hung open. He stared at her, slack-jawed, making a wordless noise for a moment or two before he recovered himself somewhat, at least enough to say, "It was just, well, you know… whatever you need, okay, I just…" He looked around, seeming to want to look everywhere or anywhere except at Weiss, and it was as his eyes darted around the lounge that he suddenly said, "Hey, is that Blake?"

"Now are you sure that you've got everything?" Yang asked. "Do you have a scarf, because I hear it can get pretty cold up there. Do you have a warm coat?"

Blake rolled her eyes. "Aura can keep a person warm in the cold, you know that."

"I also know that being out in the cold drains aura, so you should wrap up warm just in case," Yang said.

"She ain't wholly wrong about that," Applejack said, quietly but unhelpfully, from just behind Blake.

They were stood at the gate into the departure lounge; only passengers with tickets for one of the departing skyliners were allowed to wait in the lounge, and so, Blake was saying her goodbyes at the gate that led into the same. Her scroll, with her ticket on it, was held loosely in one hand, while a small hold-all bag with everything she was taking with her – which was most of the few possessions that she owned – dangled from the straps by the other hand, at about the level of her knees. Fluttershy and Applejack stood behind her, Winona sitting by Applejack's heels as they waited for Blake to join them heading through the gate. Rainbow wasn't there to say goodbye to them – Team RSPT were moving Penny onto the Atlesian cruiser Hope, which would carry them to Atlas in probably less comfortable circumstances than Blake was going to enjoy. However, even without Rainbow, Ciel, or Twilight present, there were plenty of people come to see her off: Yang, Ren, Nora, Sunset, and Pyrrha, three of the five having taken a break from Ruby's bedside and the hospital to come and say goodbye to her.

It would have been touching – it was touching, in its own way – if it hadn't led to… well… this.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Blake said pointedly.

Yang laughed nervously. "Sorry, I just… you've been through a lot lately; it would be kind of a shame to go through all that and then die of a chill or a cold or something, right?"

"I'll be okay," Blake assured her. As it happened, she didn't have anything particularly suitable for cold weather to wear, relying on her aura to help with that, but if it really was a necessity, then she was sure that she'd be able to find something in Atlas that was okay to wear in Atlas. "Listen, I'm sorry about leaving right before-"

"It's fine," Yang replied, before Blake could finish saying what it was she was sorry for. "It's just a tournament, right? Who cares, really?"

Sunset coughed into one hand.

Yang smirked. "You always said that you wanted to see it, and you were always honest that we might not be getting you for very long-"

"Or at all, really," Blake muttered.

Yang chuckled. "Or at all, as it turned out," she agreed. "You want to check the place out before you commit, that's fine; that's smart. If you didn't plan to, I'd have suggested you did it."

Blake looked down at her scroll and her bag before she looked back up at Yang. "I barely know you," she said, "and yet, you've done so much for me, worsened your own team's chances for me, sacrificed to help me out, it… I know you far less well than you deserve."

Yang grinned. "The year's not over yet; there's still a little time. And besides, I'm not in this for the glory or the trophies; like I said, it's just a tournament. It might be fun to strut our stuff, but that's not why we're here. Isn't that right, guys?"

"We're here to be huntsmen," Ren declared. "To learn to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"And together, the three of us are as tough as any four-man team!" Nora added enthusiastically.

"You just take care of yourself," Yang told her. "We'll be fine." She held out her hand. "Best of luck up there."

Blake took her hand; Yang had a firm, strong grip. "I don't plan on needing any luck," Blake said. "I plan on taking it easy for a while."

Yang shook her hand firmly. "You do that," she urged, before releasing Blake's hand and taking a step back.

Sunset stepped forward. "Blake," she said softly.

Blake turned to face her, and they were so close that she could see – could notice, in a way that was unavoidable now – the dark bags under Sunset's eyes. "Sunset, are you-?"

"I'm fine," Sunset assured. "I'm just having a little trouble sleeping at the moment; it'll pass."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Are you going to tell me to wrap up warm, now?"

Blake snorted. "Sorry, I just-"

"You've got enough to worry about," Sunset told her. "Take care of yourself; let me take care of me and mine."

"You've got… you were there too," Blake murmured, lowering her voice so that it didn't carry much further than Sunset herself. "You don't… are you really saying that…? I don't believe that you can be the one who walked out of Mountain Glenn smiling, like it didn't bother you at all."

Mountain Glenn, after all, had gotten to all of them in one way or another, but Sunset had as much cause to be gotten to than Blake, and more than some others.

Sunset's face was still, almost without expression. She paused for a moment, and her voice became a little hoarse as she said, "Whatever I have to do; for them, for you, whatever… I'll do whatever it takes and with a light heart. My team, my friends, my responsibility."

Blake wasn't sure whether to believe that; at least, she wasn't sure whether to believe Sunset about the light heart. She could believe the rest, but she couldn't believe that it wasn't weighing on her.

It would weigh on anyone, even someone as strong as Sunset.

Still, there was nothing more to be said upon the subject now, at least not by Blake and in this circumstance. There wasn't time, and this was not the place. All there was time to say was, "Thank you, for everything."

Sunset reached out and pulled Blake into a hug, almost clinging onto her as though she feared that Blake might disappear like one of her clones the moment that she let her go, or that she, Sunset, might be swept away into some landless ocean the moment that she let go.

"You're too good for Atlas," she murmured into Blake's ear. "They don't deserve you."

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards. "That's kind to say," she said, "but ultimately up to me, don't you think?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Sunset conceded, releasing Blake and stepping back. "You take good care of her," she instructed Applejack and Fluttershy.

"We will," Fluttershy said, "I promise."

Pyrrha stepped forward, reaching out to take Blake's hand in both of hers. "Blake," she said, warmth and softness in her voice in equal measure. "Although I'm sure we both wish your visit was under better circumstances, I hope you have a wonderful time in Atlas."

Blake smiled. "Thanks," she said earnestly; after all of these concerns for her wellbeing – well-intentioned though they were – it was nice to get a simple expression of good wishes.

Pyrrha nodded. "I was only there for a very brief visit, but if you get the chance, I highly recommend the Marigold Museum of Antiquities. Some of it's acquisitions are… controversial, but the fact remains, it has the most varied collection of artefacts from across Remnant anywhere in Remnant. Also, you should try and find time to dine at the Sorbonne, the menu there is excellent…" Pyrrha trailed off, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she added, "if, uh, if a little expensive." She chuckled. "And besides, what am I saying, recommending places to see in Atlas as though you didn't have several actual Atlesians ready to be your guides?"

"I'll keep what you said in mind," Blake promised.

Even if the museum was filled with loot stolen from across the kingdoms, that didn't mean that it wasn't worth seeing – the reverse might be said to be true – and while the restaurant was probably inaccessible to anyone who wasn't an Atlesian plutocrat or a visiting Mistralian noble, the recommendation had been well-meant, and that was what mattered.

Blake stepped forward, lowering her voice as she said, "Keep an eye on Sunset, okay? I'm a little worried about her."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together as her green eyes flickered from Blake to Sunset and then back again. "Of course," she whispered. She raised her voice to add, "May the gods bless you with fair winds, clear skies, tranquil seas, and not a grimm to be seen."

Blake bowed her head. "And may we meet again, on whatever shore the fates decree."

Pyrrha released Blake's hand. "And now you really had best be going, before you miss your flight."

“Right,” Blake said, stepping back. “I should, um, I’d better… see you guys!”

“Have fun!” Nora yelled as Sunset waved silently with one hand.

Blake turned away and joined Fluttershy and Applejack – and Winona. With their scrolls, they showed their online tickets to one of the guards at the door, along with Blake and Applejack’s student registrations and accompanying licenses to carry weapons. Their bags were scanned – although Blake was a little unsure as to the point of this, considering that, again, Blake and Applejack were both wearing their deadly weapons openly about their person – and then they were cleared to go through into the departure lounge, with its blue chairs and its slightly paler blue carpet and its vending machines.

They had barely begun to look for somewhere to sit when- “Hey, Applejack!”

Their eyes were drawn by the sound of Flash’s voice to where he stood, waving to them. Weiss was also visible, seated at his side, regarding them all with an inscrutable look on her face.

Applejack waved back before the three of them sauntered over to him. “Howdy, Flash.”

“Hey,” Flash said again, smiling as Winona ran up to him, tongue out, panting eagerly as she leapt up and planted her forepaws upon his stomach. Flash started scratching her behind the ears as he continued, “I’d ask what you guys were doing here, but I guess you’re headed home too, huh?”

“Eeyup,” Applejack agreed. “And about time too. It’ll be good to see the farm again, though we’re gonna check in with the girls in Atlas first.”

Fluttershy bowed her head a little. “I’m sorry that I got you into this.”

“Now, Fluttershy, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Applejack replied. “Ah’m just sayin’, it’ll be good to be home, is all.”

Flash looked up from Winona’s ears. “How… how was it? I heard that you-”

“We’d rather not talk about it, if that’s okay, Flash,” Fluttershy murmured with a glance at Blake.

Flash didn’t appear to notice the gaze. “Of course,” he said. “I didn’t mean to… the last thing I’d want is to bring up any bad memories; I’m sorry. I should have thought. Anyway, Applejack, Fluttershy, this is my team leader, Weiss Schnee. Weiss, this is Applejack and Fluttershy, two old friends of mine from Canterlot.”

Applejack touched the brim of her hat. “Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss started to get up, but Applejack motioned to forestall her. “Now, now, keep yer seat, ma’am; ain’t no call for-”

Weiss got up regardless and held up one hand to silence Applejack. “Applejack, was it? First of all, please don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ it makes me sound old; second of all, while my name is Schnee, and yes, I am one of those Schnees, I’m also a huntress in training just like you, which means that while courtesy is appreciated, deference is not required.” A small smile appeared upon her pale face. “I’m not going to buy your land just because you didn’t show me sufficient respect. Weiss will do just fine. With all that said,” she curtsied, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Applejack, and you, Fluttershy. It’s always nice to meet friends of Flash’s.”

“Likewise, Weiss,” Fluttershy replied. “Are you travelling back to Atlas together?”

“I’d rather travel with a friend than alone but with complimentary drinks in first class,” Weiss said. She looked at Blake. “And what about you, Blake? I wouldn’t have expected you to visit Atlas.”

“I want to see what it’s like,” Blake said, “before I make any permanent decisions on my future.”

“I see,” Weiss murmured with very little indication of her feelings in her tone.

“Flight to Atlas now boarding,” the announcement rang out over the tannoy. “Flight to Atlas now boarding.”

“Sounds like that’s all of us,” Flash said, grabbing his suitcase. “Say, why don’t we all have dinner together tonight, the five of us?”

“Blake?” Fluttershy asked. “What do you think about that?”

Are you okay with this, or will it make you uncomfortable, in which case we won’t do it? It was… kind of her to be so considerate, Blake supposed, but it also wasn’t subtle in the least bit.

Blake, for her part, didn’t take her eyes off Weiss Schnee, who was looking at Blake with those icy eyes that hid whatever she might be thinking.

She hadn’t done anything to Blake, not even when the truth about her past came to light; she had been scrupulously inactive with regards to Blake.

But still… a Schnee.

I thought the same when I first saw a faunus in an Atlas uniform. If I’m really going to judge Weiss by her family name, then why am I even bothering to go to Atlas in the first place?

How can I ask her to see more than the White Fang in me if I can’t see more than the SDC in her?

Weiss was not the one who had branded Adam, Weiss was not the one who ground down the faunus in the mines of Mantle. She was not born guilty of her father’s crimes.

There had to be hope for a better future, or there was no hope at all.

“Dinner,” she said, “sounds like fun.”

Over the Ocean (Rewritten)

Over the Ocean

The Hope, like all Altesian cruisers, had a long prow stretching outwards like the tip of a spear, enabling the vessel to lance through the sky as it flew from post to post upon its assignments. Most of the ship — CIC, engineering, the great guns, the brig, the canteen, and a large number of the armouries and crew quarters — were contained aft in the wider, boxier rear section of the cruiser; forward, along the prow, were mostly weapons: the mortars that had descended upon Vale to seal the Breach, the point defence weapons bristling upon the hull to engage any flying grimm or missile that got too close, the missiles that the ship itself could launch at anything big enough to need them, they or their launchers were all embedded on or into the prow, although there were a very few quarters and the like built in there too.

As well as being a long, narrow weapons emplacement, the prow was also a great place to stand for a view, especially if one didn’t mind the open air or the possibility of a long drop down, and so it was on the prow that Rainbow stood, looking down at the civilian airship that kept company with them, the faster warship limiting its speed to that of the slower, unarmed craft, like a mother whale shepherding her calf.

Speaking of which, Rainbow Dash thought that she could see some whales down below them. Hopefully, Fluttershy was watching them too; someone was definitely out on the deck of the skyliner, and Rainbow was fairly certain that one of them was Blake, thanks to the way that her black outfit and hair stood out against the metallic sheen of the airship, but as to whether or not Fluttershy was one of the others, she wasn’t so sure.

But hopefully, she was; she’d enjoy seeing the whales. Even Rainbow thought it was kind of cool, watching them go down there in the sea beneath the airships, breaching the water with their backs and tails, spraying geysers upwards, splashing their tails down as they dived beneath the waves again.

She didn’t know what they were doing, but it was fun to watch all the same.

It took her mind off things for a little while.

Mind you, the things that were on her mind were things that bore thinking about, so she couldn’t let her mind be taken off them for too long. At this speed, keeping pace with the civilian airship, she estimated that it would be about three days before they reached Atlas.

Three days before everything began. In those three days, she didn’t have a lot to do, but she needed to start making some progress with Penny. Penny … well, she’d never really gotten over the fact that Rainbow, Ciel, and Twilight had been set upon her by the General, assigned as her teammates, rather than a team forming around her in the normal course of events like what happened for normal students.

Perhaps Penny had just never made her peace with the fact that she wasn’t getting treated like a normal student. That wasn’t something that Rainbow could do much about, but she could do something about the way that Penny saw her teammates. She didn’t know if Team RSPT would survive … correction; she knew – because Twilight had told her so – that Twilight would be leaving them at the end of the year, and honestly, that was for the best. Getting her own lab was a great opportunity and an amazing show of confidence from General Ironwood; she’d get to pursue her own projects, follow her ideas without the limitations or the jealousies of others, and she’d be able to make Atlas an even better place in ways that she would never be able to do as part of their team.

And making Atlas an even better place was the name of the game, wasn’t it? It was what they all ought to be aiming for.

So, yeah, Twilight was going, and good luck to her in the place she was going to, so when Rainbow thought that she didn’t know what was going to happen to RSPT, she really meant that she didn’t know if she and Ciel would be sticking with Penny or whether they would be transferred to other assignments.

She didn’t even know whether the plan was for Penny to go through the entire four years, which, as her team leader, she probably ought to have known, but honestly, she wasn’t sure the General even knew himself. He had been very cagey with his plans for Penny, and Rainbow had the impression that that was because they weren’t firm in his mind yet. General Ironwood — and Atlas — were waiting to see how things played out, how Penny performed, before deciding how much education she needed.

Right now, Rainbow would say that Penny needed another year, at least. She wasn’t without promise, but she wasn’t there yet. Her injuries … they weren’t exactly her fault, but at the same time, if somebody got hurt that bad in their first year, you’d say they needed more experience before you trusted them to go out into the field … out into the field with a license.

Anyway, it would be for the best if she acted as though she and Ciel weren’t going anywhere and made an effort to get through to Penny accordingly.

If she could. Ciel and Twilight — especially the former — had made much more of an effort with Penny than Rainbow had; Rainbow herself had been preoccupied with Blake; she hadn’t ignored Penny or been unkind to her, and she had done her job and protected Penny to the best of her ability — even if the fact that Penny was now immobile on a workbench made that ‘to the best of her ability’ look a little unreliable — and she would even say that she had done some good things for Penny, and Twilight hadn’t even had to her prompt her to do some of them. Letting her stay at Beacon that first semester had been one hundred percent Rainbow’s idea … okay, it had been Penny’s idea, but Rainbow had enthusiastically adopted it, championed it to the General, and nobody had had to tell her that Penny deserved it.

But that had been before she met Blake, before she befriended Blake, before Blake started absorbing a lot of Rainbow’s energies.

Still, the main issue was not Rainbow’s relationship with Blake, because even if Rainbow had been distracted, and even if Rainbow had thought that Blake was a better bet for Atlas than Penny, Ciel had been there to pick up the slack; no, the main issue was that Penny didn’t appreciate Ciel either. She couldn’t get over the fact that they had been appointed to her, which was why she held the friends that she had made of her own choice — Ruby and Pyrrha and now, it seemed, Sunset — that much closer to her heart in consequence.

That was fine, as far as it went; your teammates didn’t have to be your best friends. Yeah, everyone idealised the teams like SAPR that were a family, the ones that stuck together after graduation, everyone talked about friendships that would last a lifetime. But honestly, Tempest Shadow wasn’t friends with Trixie, Starlight, or Sunburst, and it didn’t hurt the effectiveness of TTSS; Team PSTL were reckoned a pretty good team for all that their team leader treated them more like servants than like friends, and while Rainbow had been tight with Applejack in the old days, and while she had gotten on with Spearhead well enough, Maud … Rainbow respected Maud, but she wouldn’t call them friends. Maud didn’t have any friends except for Pinkie, if sisters counted as friends, anyway. The point was that you didn’t have to like someone to work with them, even to work well with them. But it could help, and it certainly helped if you didn’t think of the people you were working with as an imposition that you’d rather weren’t around.

That’s what Rainbow had to make Penny understand, that just because General Ironwood had assigned them to Penny, it didn’t mean… they all cared about her, even if they didn’t all show it very well.

She had to make Penny understand that. She had to try and make Penny understand that, hopefully before they got back to Atlas when it all kicked off, as it certainly would, because God only knew what Doctor Polendina was going to say about the state of her.

He’d probably call for Rainbow to be reassigned, if not kicked out of Atlas completely.

General Ironwood wouldn’t let the second one happen, and Rainbow didn’t mean to let the first one happen either. She’d been ordered to do a job, and she was going to do that job until the job was done. She wasn’t going to quit, she wasn’t going to walk away, and she wasn’t going to take the easy out of letting Penny’s father have her reassigned.

Apart from the blow to her pride, if she wasn’t going to put all of her ambitions on Blake’s shoulders instead of her own, she was going to have to learn how to play politics, and sometimes, that meant surviving people who were out to get you, even if you had to use your connections against theirs.

If Penny wasn’t receptive to Rainbow aboard ship, it occurred to her that maybe her uncle might have some idea of how to get through to her. Yes, he’d been kicked out of the R&D division and was slumming it down in Mantle with the troublemakers, but he was still Penny’s uncle, and he might have some ideas.

And apart from that, she also owed Scootaloo some bonding time, since that had been unexpectedly cancelled when the team ended up staying in Vale; she’d promised Ciel that they’d look for answers about the Lady of the North; she needed to read that book that Tukson had given her; and, since Blake was coming to Atlas anyway, Rainbow should probably check in on her at least from time to time to see how she was getting on.

And she needed to speak to Cadance to see if she’d made any progress looking into that SDC brand.

Yeah … she was going to be busy. Still, at least she wouldn’t be bored.

“Is there a reason you’re standing so close to the edge?” Ciel asked.

Rainbow looked over her shoulder. Ciel was standing a healthy distance behind her, in the centre of the prow, where — even narrow as it was — there was black metal on either side of her. Rainbow grinned. “You can’t see anything from back there.”

“Is there anything worth seeing?” Ciel asked.

“It depends,” Rainbow replied. She turned away and closed the distance with Ciel. “How’s Penny?”

“Bored,” Ciel said. “I half-think we should have put her to sleep for the duration of the journey.”

Rainbow shook her head. “She’d hate that. She’d feel even more broken than she does right now.”

“I’m not sure that it’s possible for her to feel more broken than she does right now,” Ciel said. She paused. “Her father will have harsh words with us when we arrive in Atlas. And he will be right; we have been … we have not been diligent in our duty towards her.”

“You’ve done the best you could,” Rainbow assured her.

“Then results would suggest that my best was not good enough,” Ciel said frostily.

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. “In my position, if you’d been leading the team in that situation, what would you have done instead?”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “Blake—”

“Yeah, Blake, to make up our numbers and form a rearguard, but what else?” Rainbow asked. “You’ve done everything you could for Penny.”

“And you?” Ciel asked quietly.

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. “I split my focus, and I might not have hit the balance right.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Blake?” Rainbow asked. “No. I thought I might pop over for a quick visit, check on Applejack and Fluttershy as well, but I haven’t seen them, no.”

Ciel nodded. “Her beau tried to stowaway aboard the ship.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Sun?”

“I hope she has no others,” Ciel muttered.

“On … on that ship?” Rainbow asked. He could have just bought a ticket.

“On this ship,” Ciel corrected her.

Rainbow’s eyebrows climbed yet higher still. “Sun tried to sneak aboard the Hope?” At Ciel’s nod, she asked, “Is he still alive?”

“I found him when I checked the crawlspace under the floor of our airship before we took off,” Ciel informed her. “I told him that he was lucky he had not made it on board the Hope and sent him away. Then I remained on board the ship until the rest of you arrived to make sure he did not return.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow murmured. “I thought he’d gotten past that.”

“He claimed his teammates were amenable to his decision.”

“Then why not just buy a ticket?” Rainbow asked loudly. “I mean, he did realise that Blake was on the other ship, didn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t like to hazard a guess as to what that young man knows or does not know,” Ciel declared. “If you ask me, Blake would be well-advised to drop him.”

Rainbow frowned. She would have liked to have asked just what Ciel meant by that, and why she meant it, but the truth was that it would have been disingenuous of her to do so, because she already knew exactly what Ciel meant. In Atlas, anybody could rise high, but they couldn’t necessarily do it by being themselves. If Blake meant to commit to Atlas — and Rainbow hoped she did — then she would have to be careful who she associated with: the wrong man — the wrong marriage — could ruin her entire career in the military. Sun was a good guy, and he was canine in his loyalty, but unless he was hiding a lot of polish under that rough and ready exterior, a lot of people wouldn’t think that he was suitable.

He wasn’t really suitable, it had to be said.

“That isn’t for us to say,” she said quietly.

“If you are her friend—”

“It still wouldn’t give me the right to police her love life,” Rainbow declared. “I have put up with watching Twilight date much worse guys than Sun Wukong.” She ran one hand through her hair. “And, you know … he’s not a bad guy. Maybe the fact that Blake should drop a nice guy who’d do anything for her because he doesn’t know which fork to use with the fish course says worse things about us than it does about him?”

“Such things may seem petty, even ridiculous,” Ciel said, “but they are important symbols, and we abandon them at our peril. It is by holding the line for the smallest pebbles of civility that we prevent the undermining of the broader building blocks, the principles that hold a truly civilised society together. A man who cannot be bothered to dress properly, who feels free to behave boorishly in front of his hostess because he knows that he has a good heart and a soul bathed in righteousness, will soon feel free to break his marriage vows with wild abandon and violate the person of his wife because he knows he has a good heart and a soul bathed in righteousness.”

“Sun isn’t going to hit Blake!” Rainbow yelled.

“I agree that he would not,” Ciel allowed. “But my point is that we hold the outer wall of civilised conduct that the citadel of principles may never come under attack.”

“I’m not sure everyone in Atlas would agree with you,” Rainbow muttered. “Anyway, like I said, I’m not going to bring it up to her.”

“I think that is a mistake,” Ciel said.

“Oh, now you tell me when you think I’m making a mistake,” Rainbow snapped tartly.

“What do you mean?” asked Ciel.

“I mean that you must have realised that I wasn’t doing the best job leading this team, and you let me carry on regardless,” Rainbow said. “I had to hear it from Sunset!” Her voice quietened. “You must have known.”

Ciel looked away guiltily. “I have not been silent,” she muttered.

“You didn’t say enough,” Rainbow replied.

“I was not hoping to see you fail, if that’s what you think,” Ciel said quickly.

“I didn’t think that,” Rainbow said softly. “I just want to know why?”

“Is it not obvious?” Ciel demanded. “You are General Ironwood’s most trusted … everyone in the academy knows that he favours you, and Atlas … you are not blind. I love this kingdom, I would die in its defence, but we both know the importance of patronage and connection when determining advancement. Or the lack of it.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “You thought … you thought that if you criticised me, I’d screw you over with the General?!”

“Some would,” Ciel said, matter of factly.

“Yeah, but God, Ciel!” Rainbow cried. “I … we need to get to know one another a lot better, clearly. I wouldn’t… God! You really thought that I would do that? You really thought that I was that thin-skinned?”

She debated whether or not she really wanted to know the answer to that.

Ciel took a moment to reply. “I do not come from a good family,” she said. “My father is an NCO; my mother never rose to any great rank. I have not known the General from youth, I do not count his god-daughter as my best friend, I am not insulated against disaster thus. General Ironwood has given me a great honour with this posting, but one that could just as easily turn out to be a poisoned chalice for my ambitions. And with my … manner, I am not likely to win many friends on the way up; I cannot afford to make enemies. Yet it appears that I may have done so unwittingly.”

“You haven’t,” Rainbow reassured her. “I get it. I … just because I’m a faunus doesn’t mean that I can’t be more privileged than you. I didn’t think that it might have been … intimidating, having someone like me as your team leader. But that’s not who I am. I’m not going to punish you for being right, or even for disagreeing with me, whether you’re right or wrong. Maybe you don’t believe me, and I need to try and prove to you that’s not who I am, and I’ll try, but please … if you think that I’m doing something wrong, then tell me. Because if you don’t … if you don’t, then we really will have a disaster on our hands.” She smiled. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure that nothing hits you when we get back to Atlas. Don’t worry about Penny’s father, or any of it.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “That is generous of you, although I am not sure that you can give such a guarantee.”

“I’ll try my best,” Rainbow assured her. “You don’t deserve to be blamed for what happened, not when … not when you’re the one who cares about Penny the most.”

Ciel did not instantly reply. “I feel … I am the eldest of seven siblings, and the other six all brothers.”

Rainbow nodded. “I know.”

“Growing up, watching my mother get with child time and time again,” Ciel went on. “I prayed to the Lady that she would intercede with God to send me a little sister. Either she did not bother to demean herself with such selfish requests, or God took no notice, because my prayers went unrewarded.” A soft smile played across her face. “Until now.” The smile died, and a sigh escaped her lips. “And yet—”

“And yet, she doesn’t love you,” Rainbow said softly.

Ciel bit her lip. “At the risk of sounding unpleasantly jealous, it is a little … Ruby, at least, I can understand; she has a manner easy to get on with, but Pyrrha is nearly as awkward as I am, and yet—”

“She chose them,” Rainbow said softly. “It’s not about who you are, or who they are; it’s about how she came to them, against how we came to her.”

“She cannot still think of us as her gaolers?”

“I’m afraid that’s exactly how she thinks of us,” Rainbow replied. “Which isn’t your fault, but … I’m going to try and get through to her about it. Try and make her … I don’t know, try and make her see that the days when we looked at her that way are gone.”

“I could—”

“I’ll go first,” Rainbow said. “I’m the team leader; it’s my responsibility.” She paused, and the corner of her lip twitched upwards. “Unless you think I’m making a mistake.”

“No,” Ciel murmured. “No, I think it is your right to try. After all, I have not succeeded yet.”

“So I’ll give it a try,” Rainbow said. She stepped back, and let her Wings of Harmony pop out from either side of the backpack. “But first, I’m going to quickly check on the girls on the other ship.”

Ciel nodded. “Wish them well for me.”

“Will do,” Rainbow promised, and kicked off the prow of the Hope and into the blue skies beyond.

Blake rested her hands upon the cold metal balcony rail.

The skyliner had a large, open observation deck sprawling forward, covering most of the top of the airship’s superstructure, but only Blake was using it at present. Only Blake was up here, standing at the rails, feeling the wind blow through her long, black hair.

The wings of the airship beat up and down, up and down like vast oars driving them through the air. Blake couldn’t see the rear wings from where she was standing — she was too far forward — but she could see the front wings rising and falling, revealing part of the ocean to her and then obscuring it as the great white paddles descended once again. Up and down, up and down. It was almost relaxing to watch them, to let her eyes become captivated by the lazy rhythm of their rise and fall. Blake wondered how necessary it really was; it seemed incredible that such slow motions could be moving them forward, still less keeping their airborne.

But then, if they were not necessary, then why bother with them at all?

Blake glanced upwards for a moment, to where the Atlesian warship kept them company on the way to its home; it had no visible wings — which was one of the reasons Blake wondered if there was a performative element about the civilian airship — only slender engines emerging from the back to drive it on.

Someone was stood up there, on the open prow, looking down … well, looking down; whether they were looking down on Blake or on the airship or anything of that sort, it was hard to tell. She couldn’t make out who it was either; they were too far away and too indistinct against the black of the airship and the blue of the sky.

She didn’t wave up at them; she didn’t want to be presumptuous in case they weren’t looking at her.

Blake turned her eyes down again, looking downwards to the ocean far below. It looked as though there was something moving down there, something … whales. Yes, she was fairly certain that they were whales, although she didn’t claim to be an expert on wildlife, so she couldn’t be sure. She certainly couldn’t say what kind of whales they were, although whatever they were, they looked quite majestic with the way that they rose and fell, their grey-blue bodies partially emerging out of the water, only to disappear again.

It occurred to Blake, watching, that the flippers of those whales were about the same size in proportion to the bodies of the creatures as the wings of her airship in proportion to the ship itself; she began to re-evaluate her opinion of said wings and their effectiveness.

A gasp from beside her alerted her to the presence of Fluttershy, who had otherwise stolen upon her without Blake realising it.

“Humpbacks!” Fluttershy cried. “Oh, this is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this in real life before!” She pulled her scroll out of the purse dangling from one arm and began to take pictures, the camera built into the device flashing over and over again.

“'Humpbacks'?” Blake asked. “Is that what they’re called?”

“Mhmm,” Fluttershy acknowledged. “Humpback whales.” She stopped taking pictures and smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Blake; I should have asked if you wanted company.”

“It’s fine,” Blake assured her. She smiled too, although how bright it was, she couldn’t have said; she wasn’t feeling particularly luminous at the moment. “Hey, Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy chuckled softly. “Hello, Blake. Are you enjoying the view?”

Blake looked out again, her gaze descending from the slowly-beating wings down to the ocean below. The whales had disappeared out of sight, sinking down into the depths once more. “It’s kind of relaxing,” she murmured.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you?” Fluttershy asked anxiously.

“I’m sure,” Blake said. “The downside of this view being so relaxing is that … well, while there are a few new things to look at out here that I couldn’t see from my room, it’s still … once you get used to the view, you have a lot of time to think about things.”

Fluttershy reached out and laid her hand on top of Blake’s hand. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Blake murmured, not moving her hand away from Fluttershy’s touch. “Do you…? I … you probably don’t want to talk about it, but—”

“It’s alright,” Fluttershy said softly. “I don’t mind. I understand that … this matters to you, doesn’t it?”

Blake blinked. “I… yes. Yes, it does. I don’t know whether it should or not, but it does.”

“You were close, weren’t you?” Fluttershy asked.

Blake glanced at her, and then looked away. “You … you could say that.”

“He mentioned you,” Fluttershy told her. “He was … he said that he’d had someone that he cared for very much. Someone he thought that he could trust. Someone … someone who meant everything to him.”

Each word was like a dagger through Blake’s heart. Her free hand found that heart, hovering over it, her fingertips resting upon her breast. “And what,” she asked, “and what did he say happened to me? What did he say that I’d done to him?”

“He said…” Fluttershy hesitated. “He said that Rainbow Dash and Sunset Shimmer had stolen you away.”

Blake let out a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a hollow bitter laugh. “Rainbow and Sunset … they stole me? He still … even then, even at the last, he just … he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand at all. I’d hoped that maybe … maybe whatever it was that you did to him had caused him to see—”

“I don’t know that it didn’t,” Fluttershy offered. “That … the change in him came after.”

Blake turned to get a better look at her. The wind was blowing through Fluttershy’s hair too, the long lilac hair streaming out behind her, exposing her face. It was a pretty face, a soft face, largely untouched by the hardships of the world, and yet, her eyes made it seem a face more suited for tears than for smiles in some strange way that Blake felt but couldn’t really explain. Just as she couldn’t explain why, with this face made for tears, it nevertheless felt wrong for Fluttershy to be sad.

“Tell me,” she implored, her voice breaking. “Please, tell me everything.”

“'Everything'?” Fluttershy asked. “Are you sure?”

“If there is bad along with the good … I know enough bad already, a little more won’t change my mind,” Blake told her. “I just … I want to know.”

Fluttershy nodded silently. She paused for a few moments before she spoke. “He scared me, at first,” she confessed.

“He had that effect,” Blake replied. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“He came in, and as soon as I realised that it was him and not Gilda, I … like I said, he frightened me,” Fluttershy repeated. “Especially since he seemed angry or upset about something. He made fun of my outfit,” she added. “I suppose it was a little much, but Rarity had worked so hard on it, I couldn’t bear to tell her that it wasn’t practical enough. Then Applejack … Applejack said something that made him angry.”

“Not difficult,” Blake murmured.

“He told us that he hadn’t received much generosity in his life,” Fluttershy added. “Is that true?”

“That … that depends,” Blake said. “When he was younger … did he show you the … did he show you—?”

“The mark on his face?” Fluttershy guessed.

Blake winced. “So he did?”

Fluttershy nodded. “Did the SDC really do that to him?”

“So he told me,” Blake said softly.

Fluttershy gasped. “How could anyone … how? That’s … that’s just … that’s just wrong! How … how can you know that things like that happen and still want to come within a hundred miles of Atlas?”

“Because I … because I don’t want to be like him,” Blake replied, her voice trembling. “I don’t want to condemn a whole city or kingdom for the actions of a few. For what I hope are the actions of a few.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you,” Fluttershy whispered. “And you’re not scared?”

“Of it happening to me?” Blake asked, to which Fluttershy gave a mute nod of assent. “No,” she said. “I trust you. Rainbow Dash, Twilight, I trust all of you. And, if it turns out that I’m wrong … other faunus have suffered far worse than I in the struggle for our liberation and will still have suffered more than I, even if I do get three letters seared into my flesh.”

Fluttershy swallowed. “I … I don’t know whether to applaud or be appalled,” she murmured. “Are you sure that you want to sit down with—?”

“Weiss didn’t brand anyone’s face,” Blake said. “I can’t blame her any more than I can blame Atlas. That way lies … you know where that road leads.”

“Did he tell you how it happened?”

“No,” Blake said. “He didn’t like to talk about it.”

“Does … does Rainbow Dash know?”

Blake nodded solemnly. “She … she saw it. She knocked off his mask while fighting.”

Fluttershy gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

“She’s … fine,” Blake assured her. “She … it was some time ago, and I think… I can’t read her mind, and it seemed to bother her at first, but … don’t worry, she’s still your friend.”

“I know,” Fluttershy said. “But that doesn’t mean… I’m still sorry she had to find that out. She … Atlas means a lot to her.”

“And not to you?” Blake asked.

Fluttershy shrugged. “Gilda came in before Adam could do anything,” she said. “She seemed… she tried to protect us from everyone.”

“Gilda,” Blake murmured. “Gilda was never very fond of bloodshed.”

“Adam tried to send her away,” Fluttershy said, “but she wouldn’t go.”

That surprised Blake. “She defied him?”

Fluttershy nodded. “For our sake.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. She wouldn’t have thought that anyone would have had the courage to defy Adam, and certainly not Gilda Swiftwing; evidently, things had changed since she left. “But that’s not why he let you go, is it?”

Fluttershy shook her head. “That was when I told him what we’d been doing in Vale in the first place: studying the wildlife.” She smiled sadly. “Did you know that he liked birds when he was a boy?”

Blake looked down at her feet. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, he told me about that. Colourful canaries down the mines and fat—”

“Fat pigeons in the streets of Mantle,” Fluttershy finished.

Blake nodded. “He always… he was always angry,” she said softly. “He always had so much rage in him, but … when he talked about the birds they had down the mines, or about the football that they used to play once they came up from the mines to unwind before bedtime, about the songs the work gangs sang … all that anger would seem to leave him, for just a little while, and instead…”

“Sadness,” Fluttershy murmured.

Blake thought about it for a moment. “Yes,” she acknowledged. “Yes, he became sad, and solemn, but not angry. Not the way that he usually was.” She paused. “I’d like to say that it was the sadness that drew me to him, not the anger, but the truth was that it was both. It was … the first time I met him, he’d just returned from a successful mission. Successful, but not without cost. Everyone else was celebrating their victory, but he … I found him outside, in the dark, crying over his fallen comrades. He cared then, he cared so much about our people and our cause, and his anger, it … it was a righteous anger, then; a rage against the injustice of the world. But then, later, as time went on, he … it was like he was deliberately trying to put the sadness away, somewhere where it wouldn’t weaken him, and his anger came to seem less righteous and more … indiscriminate. And I could see it happening to the rest of the White Fang around me too. That’s why I had to leave, leave them and him; it was nothing to do with Rainbow, it was nothing to do with Sunset, it was … it was him, and what he was becoming.” She closed her eyes. “And yet—”

“It’s not your fault,” Fluttershy insisted.

“So I’m told,” Blake murmured. “And I’m sure that everyone who tells me that is right, but … what right did I have to judge someone who had suffered so much more than I have? What right did I have to judge any of them, to take up arms against them, to let them die in that tunnel? What right do I have to be here when Adam and so many others have given their lives for our people?”

Fluttershy was silent for a moment. “I’m not a faunus,” she said, “and I don’t have the right to talk about what the White Fang is fighting for or what you’ve suffered, but I do know that all life is precious and not to be thrown away lightly. After all, it’s only by living that things can get any better, isn’t it? For us, and for the people we care about.”

“I know,” Blake said, “but—”

“Sometimes, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it,” Fluttershy replied. “But we have to, all the same.”

The door opened onto the observation deck, and Applejack ambled through. “Howdy, girls,” she said, greeting them both with a wave of one hand. “I hope Ah’m not interruptin’ anythin’; I just thought Ah’d come up here for some fresh air 'fore dinner.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Blake said, “and even if you were, there’s plenty of room.”

Applejack laughed as she looked around the otherwise empty observation deck. “Yeah, Ah guess you’re right about that, ain’t you?” She paused. “Feel that wind blowin’, Ah’m glad Ah left mah hat back in mah room. Not much chance of gettin’ it back if it went overboard, huh?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t this windy the last time we came this way,” Fluttershy said.

“Probably 'cause summer’s drawin’ to a close,” Applejack said. “Autumn’s on the way, so we get that autumn weather. Still, it ain’t too cold, and as far as Ah’m concerned, it beats spending all day in that cabin. I don’t like to be cooped up too long.”

“You missed some majestic whales passing beneath us,” Fluttershy said. “They were beautiful.”

“Ah’ll take your word for it,” Applejack said as she wandered over to the railing to join them. She leaned against the cold metal rail. “You’re probably sick of folks askin’ how yer feelin’, sugarcube, so I’ll ask you how you feel about gettin’ to Atlas?”

Blake took a few moments to consider her reply. “I feel … curious. I’ve only ever heard about Atlas — and not in the sense that everyone has heard about Atlas — I mean like … I had a friend who lived there for a while, she went to a school you know, Crystal Prep.”

“Yep,” Applejack said heavily. “We know Crystal Prep alright, don’t we, Fluttershy?”

“They weren’t that bad,” Fluttershy said.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, sugarcube,” Applejack replied. “Although, I must say, Ah’m surprised to hear about a faunus goin’ to Crystal Prep. Ah don’t remember seein’ any of them when our schools met up.”

“She was passing for human at the time,” Blake explained.

Applejack blinked. “You mean … your friend was the one who—”

“Yes,” Blake said. “I understand you’ve heard of that too.”

“And she’s your source about Atlas,” Applejack said.

“For what it’s worth, she was actually very complementary,” Blake said. “Sort of. She said it was a city of dreams. A city where she had to hide what she really was in order to fit in.”

“All the same,” Applejack muttered, “Ah don’t know if you want to go takin’ her word for it.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s word for it, Ilia’s or Rainbow Dash’s,” Blake replied. “So I suppose that what I’m feeling is … curiosity, to find out for myself what Atlas is really like.”

Applejack held her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from the sun as she looked upwards. “Speakin’ of Rainbow Dash,” she said.

Blake looked up too, in time to see a figure descending through the air towards them from the cruiser up above.

She and Fluttershy sidestepped nimbly out of the way as Rainbow dropped onto the deck.

“Hey,” Rainbow said. “How’s everyone doing?”

“We just saw some wonderful humpbacks in the water below,” Fluttershy said.

“Oh, is that what they were?” Rainbow asked. “I thought they were whales.”

“Humpback whales,” Fluttershy explained.

“Ah, okay, that makes sense,” Rainbow acknowledged. “But are you three okay?”

“Ah’m about as well as could be expected,” Applejack said. “But Ah think Blake might be gettin’ a little tired of folks asking her if she’s okay.”

“Right,” Rainbow murmured. “On the one hand, I’m sorry, but on the other hand, it isn’t my fault if everyone else has gotten to you first.”

Blake smiled a little. “It’s fine,” she assured her. “It’s not a problem. I … am okay. I’m as well as could be expected, as Applejack put it.”

“Are you—?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Blake said, before Rainbow could finish her inquiry. Although she then felt the need to add, “Although I am a little apprehensive about dinner with Weiss and Flash tonight.”

“You’re having dinner with Weiss and Flash?”

“We all are,” Fluttershy said. “Flash thought that it would be nice, and Blake didn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Blake said. “I just … it’s Weiss Schnee, you know.”

“Weiss Schnee,” Rainbow said. “Not Jacques Schnee. We’re none of us our parents.”

“I know,” Blake replied. “But you can understand why I’m a little … I don’t know what to expect.”

“Expect some nice food on a ship like this,” Rainbow said, with a grin. “Do you think there’d be room for one more at your table?”

“Aiming to stick around?” Applejack asked.

“Not me, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “I’ll fly her over this evening and then pick her up again when you’re all done.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Fluttershy declared. “But are you sure that you can’t join us too?”

Rainbow shook her head. “I’m having dinner with Penny tonight.”

“How is Penny?” asked Blake.

Rainbow scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Defeat bothers her more than her injuries, I think.”

“Tell her that she oughtn’t let it get to her,” Applejack said. “We all take some lumps from time to time.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow said. “But Penny … Penny’s been told that she’s really awesome, and now she’s finding out that, well, she doesn’t feel that way right now.” Rainbow paused for a moment. “But she’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay, right?”

“Ah hope so,” Applejack said.

“I’m sure we will,” Fluttershy added.

“And … and so do I,” Blake said, after a moment. “It might not be instant, it might take a while, but I hope, I think, I’m sure that we’ll get there.”

But before that, there was dinner with Weiss Schnee to get through.

Author's Note

So, the way the story is going to be structured for the next little bit is sequentially rather than attempting sort of chronological order cross-cutting. So, we're going to stay in Atlas, with a bit of Penny and her father and a little Sci-Twi, but for the most part focussing on Blake as she heals and temporarily teams up with Weiss for a brief side-plot tying into the Grimm Eclipse storyline; then we'll go to either Jaune & Pyrrha or Ruby & Yang, then whichever of those two I didn't do first, then Grimm Eclipse.

Rewrite Notes: A complete rewrite of this particular chapter, take account of changed circumstances and the like. Trying to think of more to say than but struggling, I suppose I could say that this chapter is spiritually similar, but textually different. Also, they don't reach Atlas at the end.

Evolution (New)

Evolution

The RSPT – RST would probably be a more accurate way of referring to them – quarters aboard the Hope were small, but there was enough for an exceedingly modest desk, upon which Twilight deposited the small canister in which swirled Sunset's magic. It glowed a bright and somewhat eerie green as it sat there, casting a light upon the desk around it.

Spike hopped up onto the chair and rested his forepaws on the desk, staring at the glowing canister with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He barked at the magic as it swirled within its container.

"Careful, Spike," Twilight informed him. "If that spills, there won't be any more where it came from." Not for some time, possibly not ever; there would be limits to how much of her own magic Sunset would siphon off for the sake of Twilight's research. Not to mention, there ought to be limits beyond which Twilight could not ask for more. Considering Sunset's misgivings about the idea, one could say that she'd given enough already.

Just to be safe, she moved the canister back until it was touching the wall, then lifted Spike off the chair and put him back down on the floor. He whined a little bit but swiftly started rooting around in her bag for a toy.

"Yeah, that's much safer," Twilight murmured, scratching him behind the ears. "After all, we don't know what magic might do to you. We don't know what magic might do at all. So much to find out, so much to uncover. Although probably something I should study at home; I don't want to raise too many questions about what I'm working on."

Spike barked.

Twilight smiled as she sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the lower bunk on the left hand side of the room, her legs hunched up to avoid touching the opposite bunk. She picked Spike up off the floor and put him on her lap and started to tickle him under the chin.

"I mean, I can't really deny that a part of me would like everyone to know," she said. "To prove that I was right all along, that there really is more out there than we're aware of… but it's not my secret to reveal. I don't want to make trouble for Sunset, especially since she didn't have to give me this magic in the first place, especially since I don't think that she really wanted to. Besides, I'll have to become used to keeping secrets."

She paused for a moment, looking down at Spike, who stared up at her with big eyes, his mouth open and his tongue out.

"I know so many things that I didn't know before, so much that is new, and I can't tell anyone about it, not even our friends. Not that I'd want to tell my friends everything, because some of what I know is kind of scary, but some of it is exciting as well: the Power of Creation. A power wielded by the gods themselves, and they left us a part of it. Just imagine what that relic could do, Spike! We could… we could feed the world, end poverty, make so many lives so much better. But I'll never get to tell anyone about it, and we'll never get to find out what it can do because, from the sounds of things, the only goal is to keep the Relics out of Salem's hands. And I get that that's important, and I suppose that if we used the Relics, then she'd be able to find them much more easily, but… I don't know; it just seems like such a waste to me.

"But do you know what the worst part is?" she asked rhetorically. "The worst part is that none of what I know now tells me anything about what happened to me when I was little. None of it tells me who the woman who saved us was or how she did what she did. I know Sunset thinks that this is all connected, that Professor Ozpin's organisation is connected to the Old Man and the wizard from the old stories, and I can see why she thinks that; I just… I don't know, maybe I'm just hoping that General Ironwood isn't keeping more secrets from us."

The door slid open, and Rainbow Dash came in. "Hey, Twi," she said, looking down upon Twilight as the door slid shut behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Just talking to Spike," Twilight replied.

Rainbow snorted. "What about?" she asked as she stepped over Twilight's legs before sitting down on the floor opposite her, her arms resting upon her upturned knees.

"This and that," Twilight said. "Sunset's magic and how I'll have to study it at home, for one thing."

Rainbow looked at the glowing canister on the desk. "Yeah, that… that's a thing, isn't it?"

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. "Does it bother you?"

"Do you understand it?" Rainbow asked.

"Not yet, but-"

"Then yeah, it bothers me a little bit," Rainbow said, cutting her off. "I'm okay with there being things that I don't understand, but the fact that you don't understand them either worries me."

Twilight chuckled. "Everything was incomprehensible at some point, until it became understood," she pointed out. "There was a time in our history when mankind didn't understand dust."

"And I hope they were careful with it until they did understand it," Rainbow said. "And when you understand Sunset's Do-Anything juice, then I'll relax."

Twilight smiled. "I'll try and clear up the mysteries for you as fast as I can."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "I just flew over to the Skyliner to check on Applejack and Fluttershy; they're having dinner with Blake, Flash, and Weiss tonight; I thought you might like to join them."

"I wouldn't mind," Twilight said. "Although there is the logistical difficulty that I'm on this ship and they're on another one."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Twilight, I have a jetpack – a jetpack you made me – I'll fly you over."

"Are you going as well?"

"No," Rainbow said. "I'll fly back over here, and then you can text me when you're ready to get picked up."

"Okay, Mom," Twilight said, amusement in her voice. "Although you could always just eat with us, and we can fly back together when we're done."

Rainbow grinned. "I'm not sure the Wings of Harmony are appropriate dinner wear," she said. "And besides-"

"This isn't about giving Blake space or anything, is it?"

"No," Rainbow said quickly. "It's about the fact that if I go to dinner with the rest of you, then Ciel will be stuck watching Penny, and it's not right to offload that all onto her. I'll take you over, come back, spend the evening with Penny, then pick you up tonight. Come on, Applejack and Fluttershy would like it, and I think Blake could use a friendly face."

"Applejack and Fluttershy are right there," Twilight pointed out.

"She hardly knows them," Rainbow replied.

"She doesn't really know me, either," Twilight said.

"This is the perfect time to fix it then, isn't it?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight covered her mouth as a slight laugh escaped her. "Okay," she said. Twilight paused for a moment. "Hey," she said, "how big do you think the welcome home party is going to be?"

"I think it will be small, but really, really good," Rainbow guessed. "No guests, just us, but a really great time."

Twilight nodded. "I can see that," she acknowledged. "You know… it's going to be our first time back with all of them since we found out…"

"About all the stuff that we can't talk about," Rainbow murmured.

"Mhm," Twilight agreed. "It feels weird. I've never… never lied to them before."

"Keeping secrets doesn't have to equal lying," Rainbow argued.

"It's a pretty thin line, don't you think?" Twilight responded.

"It's for the right reasons, don't you think?"

"I understand why we have to do it," Twilight said. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"There are things that I like less," Rainbow said. "I mean, I… I'm glad I know, aren't you?"

"You mean would I rather not know?" Twilight asked. "No, no I wouldn't. Unless, of course, there was nothing to know."

Rainbow snorted. "Yeah. That would be awesome, but-"

"If it is the way it is, then I'm glad I know," Twilight said. "At least this way, I can help."

"From your brand new lab," Rainbow said teasingly.

Twilight felt her cheeks heat up a little. "The General might be going a little overboard there."

"Twilight, you've been putting yourself down all year for not being something you were never meant to be," Rainbow said. "Don't put yourself down over what you actually are."

Twilight hesitated. "Yeah, thinking that, just because I was on this team, I ought to be a great huntress, or even a capable huntress, was kind of stupid of me. Trying to play huntress at all was kind of stupid of me. I admit that, I realise it, and it won't happen again, but-"

"But nothing," Rainbow said. "You made my wings, you made that armour, you created Midnight. Hell, you helped make Penny! And the first of those three, you did by yourself in your spare time. Think what you could do with, like, work time and proper resources. I don't know what you have in mind-"

"I've got one or two ideas."

"-but I know it's going to be awesome," Rainbow finished, "and I can't wait to see."

A smile briefly crossed Twilight's face, then faded. "Hey. I… I understand that you saw… down there, you saw-"

"Yeah," Rainbow said gruffly. "Yeah, we did."

"What was-?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Rainbow said quickly. "I'm sorry, Twilight, I just… I don't want to, okay?"

Twilight thought that was perhaps unwise, but nevertheless, she nodded. "Alright, but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Always," Rainbow said as she got up. "I've got to go."

"I didn't mean to drive you off!" Twilight protested. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's not about that," Rainbow assured her. "I need to go and speak to Penny."

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss as Rainbow Dash walked into the room where Penny was being kept until they reached Atlas.

Since the Hope was the same class of ship as the Valiant, it was no surprise that her room on the Hope looked pretty much the same as her room on the Valiant. Penny was on a table in the middle of the room, just as she had been, and she was even wired up to a computer – although the computer was on the opposite side of the room. This room was less cluttered; there wasn't much paperwork in evidence here. It was just Penny.

Rainbow could only imagine how boring this was for her right now, and for a moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing, telling her off for not appreciating Ciel enough, trying to change the way that she saw her teammates. Maybe it wasn't the right time. But… if it wasn't the right time, then when was the right time? The longer she put this off, then the harder it would be to get through to Penny, and it would be hard enough already. Maybe it was unfair to take advantage of a captive audience like this, but it was also a chance, and one that she had to take.

"Hey, Penny," Rainbow said, as she walked in. She didn't bother asking how Penny was, because the answer was both obvious and pretty dispiriting.

"Hello," Penny said, and the voice that emerged from out of the computer sounded very appropriate for how downcast Rainbow imagined Penny's mood to be.

There was one thing in the room besides Penny, and that was the book of fairy tales that Blake had given her on their Cold Harbour mission. Ciel had been reading it to Penny while she was incapacitated. Rainbow put the books tucked beneath her arm down beside it with an audible thump before she sat down in the chair next to Penny.

"Did you bring a new book?" Penny asked, unable to see for herself.

"Uh-huh," Rainbow said. "I thought you must be getting to the end of those fairy tales by now."

"I don't mind hearing them again," Penny replied.

"Do you still like The Shallow Sea the best?"

"I think so," Penny replied. "But I really like The Girl in the Tower, too."

Rainbow got up, looking downwards so that Penny, looking up, could look at her in turn. "Is that how you see yourself?" she asked. "Locked up by your cruel father?"

Penny did not reply.

Rainbow frowned. "I'm going to need you to give me an answer on this, Penny."

"Are you ordering me to answer you?"

Rainbow sighed. "I'm asking you to tell me how you feel."

"Like you asked Ciel to carry me away," Penny replied. "And then you ordered her to do it when she didn't want to."

"Do you think that was wrong of me?"

"I'm not sure it's really asking if you insist on getting your own way regardless of the answer."

Rainbow sighed. "Penny… you're very young, I get that, believe me, but… you can't be a kid about this kind of thing. On the battlefield, as a leader, I can't always nicely ask, and I can't always respect everyone else's opinion, especially when they're not making any sense. The only reason Ciel argued with me about taking you back was because she was too proud to want to leave. Yes, I yelled at her, and I threatened her, but what should I have done instead, with you in the state you were in?"

Penny didn't reply.

"Exactly," Rainbow said. "Like I said, on the battlefield, sometimes, I need to give orders, and I need those orders to be obeyed immediately. But we're not on the battlefield, so I'm not ordering but asking you to tell me how you feel?"

Eventually, after some hesitation, Penny said, "What's my father going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Rainbow said.

"Won't he be upset with me for failing so badly?"

"I don't know how he's going to feel, and I don't care," Rainbow replied. "He's not going to do anything to you, I promise."

Penny was silent for a moment, before she said, "I don't believe you."

Rainbow closed her eyes for a moment. "No, I bet you don't." She opened her eyes again. "Penny, do you remember that I let you stay at Beacon, even when I was sent to bring you back to Atlas? Do you remember that I let you tell Ruby and Pyrrha about what you really were?"

"Only because the General gave you permission," Penny replied. "And you made me promise to do exactly as you said while we were at Beacon."

"And I had good reason for that."

"If General Ironwood had told you no, bring me back, then you would have," Penny pointed out.

Rainbow winced. "I mean… okay, yes, I would have-"

"Just because the Girl's gaolers let her out into the garden sometimes doesn't mean that they stopped being her gaolers," Penny replied. "Or that Tower became a home."

"So you do see yourself that way," Rainbow murmured. "And we're the gaolers, right? Me, Ciel, and Twilight?"

"Aren't you?" Penny asked.

Rainbow sat down again for a moment, gathering her thoughts together as she pondered how exactly to answer that. "I should have spoken to you about this a long time ago," she muttered. She raised her voice. "You don't like us, do you, Penny?"

Penny didn't say anything.

"You can be honest," Rainbow urged.

"Why should I like you?" Penny demanded. "You're only here because General Ironwood ordered you to be, to keep an eye on me for him and my father. You're here to make sure that I don't do anything that they don't approve of. And Ciel treats me like a kid, and you baby me and act like I need protection, and the worst part is… the worst part is that you might be right."

"Don't take that last part personally; I act that way with all of my friends," Rainbow told her.

"That's not funny."

"Good, because it's not a joke," Rainbow said; she stood up again, so that Penny could once more see her face and tell that she was being serious about this. "I treat all of my friends as though they need help to keep from breaking. You saw how I was with Twilight after the fight with Cinder in the tower. Let me tell you something: it is killing me that Fluttershy and Applejack are on another ship right now, and it doesn't matter that I can fly over there whenever I want with my wings; the fact that they're over there, on another ship, an unarmed ship, a ship that I'm not on… it's making my hands itch. Now maybe that's a flaw on my part, I don't know; I hope not, but it might be. But even if it is, it's something that I can't change. Some things are just a part of who we are, and we can't alter them without losing who we are. You don't have to like it – which is good, because you obviously don't – but it's not about you or what you are or how this team was put together. And as for Ciel… Ciel is really who I wanted to talk to you about. You're treating her badly, and it isn't right, and I'd like you to stop. You can dislike me all you want, but Ciel doesn't deserve it, and… do you know what Ciel is risking to be here? Do you know what Ciel has given up to be here?"

"'Given up'?" Penny repeated.

"Ciel should have gone to the Academy last year," Rainbow reminded her. "If she hadn't been injured, then she'd be a sophomore by now. Even taking the injury into account, if she'd started at Atlas as an ordinary freshman, I bet she'd be a team leader right now. Gods know that she's got the smarts for it; she knows the rulebook inside out. She's… the kind of person they put on the recruiting poster, because she looks the part just that much. But she didn't start at Atlas as an ordinary freshman; she took a post on this team because the General asked her too, even though it meant serving under me, no chance of being team leader."

"She's so unlucky."

"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you," Rainbow said sharply. "It never suited you, and it certainly doesn’t suit that voice." She paused. "What I'm about to say may sound… not very nice, but here it is anyway: this mission has an equal chance of ending in disaster as triumph for Ciel. And she's the only one who can really say that. Yes, if everything works out, if you do great in the tournament, if at the end of your testing, everyone is really impressed, then we'll all reap the rewards: General Ironwood will be impressed, people will remember our names, we'll get headhunted by elite units once we graduate. But if it doesn't work, if you don't work out, then Twilight will go back to the lab, nobody's going to blame her; I'll still be able to count on General Ironwood, unless I screw up majorly, but Ciel? What's Ciel going to do, who's going to take her side? She's got a lot to lose, but she's here anyway."

"For her duty," Penny said.

"Because duty called, yeah," Rainbow admitted. "But also for you. We care about you, Penny. Maybe… maybe we didn't, at first, maybe you were just an assignment to us, a job that we'd been asked to do, a feather in our caps, but… you've really grown on us. On Ciel especially. I think… you know she's got six younger brothers?"

"No," Penny said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, she does," Rainbow said. "And so, if it seems like she's babying you, try and remember that, with two parents in the military, she's probably spent half her life babying everyone around her, and mommying them, and… telling them what to do. That's another reason she'd have made a good team leader. But what I'm trying to say is that when she treats you like that, it's not because she doesn't like you, and it's certainly not because she doesn't care. It's because she's treating you like part of her family; that's… that's the opposite of not caring. And the fact that you don't… the fact that you treat her like she's some machine just following orders… it's hurting her. And she doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"She doesn't seem hurt," Penny replied.

"Yeah, well, that's… that's part of what it means to be a family," Rainbow said. "You don't… you don't let them see you bleed."

Saying that made her think of her own parents, packed off to Menagerie and out of her life. How much had that hurt them, how much had all of her rejections hurt them, that they had never let on?

Maybe something else I have to make amends for.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Penny asked.

"That… that's a good question," Rainbow admitted. "And I get it, I mean… the worst thing that anyone ever said to me was when they suggested that Twilight and the others weren't really my friends, that they just wanted a faunus friend they could parade around in some kind of virtue signalling. And it hurt because I kind of believed it; I thought it might be true. I get that it's hard to have faith sometimes, and it's hard to take some things on trust, but you… you can feel. If you give Ciel a chance, I know that you'll feel how much she cares about you. So will you do that? Will you give her a chance, not for me but for Ciel? And for you too." She paused. "I know that we aren't the friends that you chose. I know that you didn't get any choice in the matter, and… I can see that might bother you. But that doesn't mean that we can't be your friends, if you give us a chance."

Penny took a very long time to answer, but answer she did, "Okay."

Rainbow let out the sigh of relief she didn't realise that she'd been holding in. "Great," she said. "Thanks, Penny; Ciel will appreciate it, and you… you won't regret it, I promise." She sat down. "And now," she added, "I know that you could listen to those stories over and over again, but I thought we might try something a little bit different today." She picked up the book. "My grandpa read me this story when I was laid up in bed, sick. It's about a farmboy who has to rescue the princess after she gets kidnapped by a pirate. Or is he an evil prince? It's been too long since I've read this, but I remember it being really good, sword fights and romance and everything. What do you say?"

"Sure," Penny said. "I'd like to hear it. Go on."

Rainbow smiled. "As you wish," she said as she opened up the book.

Rainbow Dash walked into the RST room, wearing her Wings of Harmony upon her back. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready to go,” Twilight replied.

She had exchanged her spectacles for contact lenses, which she found somewhat uncomfortable, but at least they probably wouldn’t fall off on the flight between the two ships and leave her blind. She was dressed in a knee-length dress of bold pink with a ruffled skirt three layers deep and a white sash bound tightly around her waist, tied into a bow off-centre in front of her. A strip of lavender, and then another of white, crept up the bodice towards the shoulderless sweetheart neckline. Her legs were exposed, but since it was likely to be at least a little chilly flying through the air – however briefly – she had covered them with a pair of long lavender stockings, while a maroon jacket served the same function for her arms and shoulders, which would otherwise have been left bare by her dress. A pair of plain, high-heeled purple shoes enclosed her feet, with straps around her ankles to ensure that they too did not fall off, while her hair was bound up in a bun to ensure that it didn’t blow into Rainbow’s face as they were flying.

“What do you think?”

“It’s a little much for my taste, but you make it work,” Rainbow said approvingly.

“Good to hear,” Twilight said as the two of them headed out, leaving the room empty save for Spike.

Save for Spike, and the glowing green canister of Sunset’s magic that swirled upon the table.

Spike barked. He snuffled. He ran around the room in a circle and leapt up onto Twilight’s bed.

He lay down upon the pillow for a moment, but then got up again and restlessly leapt down onto the floor.

He barked and then leapt up onto the chair from where, standing on his hind legs, he could see the canister and its swirling green contents.

The magic danced, reflected in his eyes, as he barked once more.

From out of a crack between the lid and the canister, a thin, wispy tendril of magic emerged, creeping out of its container like a thief. It danced in the air, turning in circles, making a loop, but moving closer, ever closer, towards Spike.

The reflection of the green glow in Spike’s eyes grew ever closer, but Spike didn’t move. The magic held him spellbound as it worked its way through the air within the room until, finally, it touched him on the nose, as though giving him a gentle gesture of affection.

Spike’s eyes glowed green for a moment as he sat down upon the chair.

“Whoa,” he said.

Weiss dressed simply for dinner, in a white dress with a gauzy, semi-transparent collar, and a slightly flared skirt that stopped just below her thighs. The only accessories that she added to this simple accoutrement was a slight and slender diamond bracelet which she clasped about her right wrist and, of course, the tiara set in her off-centre ponytail.

There was a knock on the door into her cabin.

“Who is it?” Weiss called out.

“It’s me, Flash,” Flash replied.

The doors on this airship were not automatic, and for Weiss, that was a good thing, seeing as it came with a certain suggestion of privacy that would have been lacking on a man-of-war.

She picked up a small white purse – containing her room key, lien, and a few other necessities, since she couldn’t exactly wear belt pouches with this dress – and crossed the small stateroom gracefully to the door, which she opened to reveal Flash waiting outside. He was dressed in a suit, minus the tie and with his collar undone; she seemed to recall that he’d been dressed that way at the dance, too.

Not that there was anything wrong with that; so was she.

“Is it that you don’t own a tie?” she asked playfully.

Flash let out a slightly nervous laugh. “I’m not a huge fan,” he admitted, “but now I’m starting to wonder if I should have worn one anyway.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Weiss said. “It’s not as if we’re dining first class. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” Flash replied. “Would you, um, I mean, would it be too much if I…” He trailed off, but offered his arm in any case to demonstrate what he meant.

Weiss smiled. “No, that wouldn’t be too much at all,” she replied as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “In fact, that would be quite courteous.”

Flash smiled, and a faint blush rose to his face as the two of them left Weiss’ room behind – the door slammed shut behind them – and began to walk towards the nearest elevator, the dining room being located at the bottom of the ship.

“Thank you,” Flash said as they approached.

“What for?” Weiss asked, as they reached the lift; she pressed the button to summon the car. “Having dinner with you?”

“Having dinner with my friends,” Flash corrected her. “I haven’t seen Applejack or Fluttershy in a while; it’ll be good to catch up.”

“It’s no problem,” Weiss assured him. “They seem like nice people.”

“They are,” Flash assured her. “They’re… they’re the best people I know. Everyone at school – hell, everyone in Canterlot – knew that they could depend on those girls in a pinch. No matter what the problem was, no matter what was going on, you could always rely on them to help and to find a way to fix it.”

The elevator arrived, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty cab. The two of them stepped inside, and Flash pushed the button for the deck they wished to go to.

“Please stand clear, doors closing,” announced the automated voice as the doors slid shut. The lift began to grind downwards, thrumming and throbbing as it went.

Weiss looked up at Flash. “Did they ever help you?”

Flash glanced down at her. “Once or twice,” he said softly. “After Sunset and I broke up… they were there for me when I needed them. Twilight, especially.”

“Ah, yes,” Weiss remembered the awkwardness of their first meeting when RSPT had shown up at Beacon. “You had a crush on her, didn’t you?”

Flash laughed. “I misread the signals,” he replied. “Not for the last time,” he added, glancing down at her again.

Weiss adjusted her grip on his arm. “I wouldn’t say you misread the signals,” she said casually, “so much as the situation.”

“I… see,” Flash murmured. “Doesn’t it come to the same thing, in the end?”

“Perhaps,” Weiss admitted. “But it isn’t your fault, and it isn’t something you should blame yourself for.”

The lift came to a stop. “Doors opening.”

The doors did, in fact, open, and Weiss and Flash stepped out into a lobby, tastefully decorated in emerald furnishings, made all the greener-seeming by the soft green lights which illuminated everything. Beyond the lobby, Weiss caught sight of their dining companions – Applejack, Fluttershy, Blake, and Twilight Sparkle too – all standing at the bar, drinking something that she was too far away to identify.

“I hope we haven’t kept you waiting,” Weiss said as she and Flash swept – well, Weiss swept; Flash just walked – across the lobby to join them. The bar was deliberately antique in style, with a wooden, well, bar, to stand at, and two pumps like they used to have in the old days, even though all beer was bottled now. Weiss wondered what the point of the pretence was; it struck her that, in its own way, Vale looked to its past just as much as Mistral did. It just didn’t shout about it so much.

Fluttershy lowered the orange juice – as she got closer, Weiss could see that they were all drinking some kind of fruit juice – and said, “Not at all, Weiss, you’re just in time. And you look lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you, Fluttershy,” Weiss replied. Applejack and Fluttershy had not bothered to dress, although considering their circumstances, that was quite understandable, indeed to the point where Weiss might have felt guilty about dressing up herself except that Twilight had bothered to dress, and rather nicely too, as had Blake, who was wearing a plain dress of dark purple with a narrow skirt and a black belt around her waist. “Good evening, everyone.”

“Evenin’, Mi- I mean, Weiss.”

“Good evening, Weiss, Flash.”

“Hey, Twilight.”

“Weiss,” Blake said softly. “Flash.”

Weiss inclined her head. “Blake.”

“I feel,” Blake added, “as though I ought to thank you.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “For what?”

“For being at the Breach,” Blake said. “For standing your ground there and being part of the fight, both of you.”

“For being huntsmen and huntresses, you mean?” Weiss replied. “No thanks are necessary. It’s what we – what I, for one, signed up for.”

“What we both signed up for,” Flash added.

“Hear hear,” Applejack murmured, raising her glass of apple juice and taking a drink.

Blake’s golden eyes locked onto Weiss’ icy blue eyes, and for a moment, neither said anything.

“So,” Twilight said, “would you two like something to drink, or shall we get our table?”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Weiss suggested. “If that’s alright with everyone else?”

Nobody had any objections to taking their seats, so they approached the ‘Wait here to be seated’ sign, where fortunately, there was a waiter in a waistcoat and bow tie waiting to take their reservation and show them into the dining room proper. It was somewhat crowded at this hour, and the waiter led them through tables occupied by couples, families, or work colleagues talking shop before he brought them to a trio of square tables shoved together to make room for six places. A white tablecloth covered the table, as such a cloth covered all the tables, but did not disguise the joins.

Flash pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down on the left-hand side of the table, finding herself opposite Blake with Flash sitting at her right. Twilight sat opposite Flash, next to Blake, with Applejack and Fluttershy taking the last places at the table. Applejack took off her hat and placed it on the floor beside her.

Everyone except Weiss and Flash already had drinks which they hadn’t finished, but the waiter took their order and left them with the menus before they disappeared.

Weiss studied the menu in front of her idly. The food was not of the highest quality, but then, if she’d wanted that, then she ought to have travelled first class and used that, separate, restaurant. Besides, it looked to be as good quality as the food at Beacon, perhaps even a little better.

It wasn’t all particularly healthy, but considering where she was going and how reluctant she was to be going there, Weiss wondered if she could perhaps afford to indulge herself just a little.

If her figure was even a little too wide in the waist when she arrived back home, her father would have it put right soon enough.

Unfortunately, he would also feel the need to mention it to Weiss, repeatedly, and without much politeness in his tone… or in the method of his correction, most likely.

Her mother had begun to let herself go a couple of years ago; her father had tolerated it up to a point, but when his patience with it had snapped…

Weiss was already letting him drag her back to that house; she wasn’t about to give him an excuse to lock her in her room on a strict diet for the duration of her stay there.

She dismissed the idea of indulgence and turned her gaze upon the healthier options.

Yes, the seabass ought to be safe enough.

Weiss glanced up from her menu. “Applejack, Fluttershy,” she said, “I imagine you’re relieved to be going home after what you’ve been through.”

“You can say that again,” Applejack muttered.

“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy said. “It was fun up until… well, you know, but I’m glad to be going back to Atlas.”

“You were really unlucky, running into those people the way you did,” Flash said, “and nobody knows what they were doing or why? Four students just decided to try and hack the CCT, almost killed Twilight, kidnapped you two, and allied with the White Fang, and no one knows why?”

“'There are more things in heaven and earth than we can dream of,'” Weiss murmured. “I’m sure that their reasons made sense to them, even if to an outside eye, they appeared nonsensical or deranged.”

“And they didn’t say anything to you about their motives?” Flash asked.

“They don’t have to talk about it,” Blake said.

Flash frowned. “I know, and I’m sorry if you don’t, but… when Blake and I were being held by The Purifier, he had plenty to say about why he was doing all of this.”

“Oh, that Cinder had a few things to say,” Applejack agreed. “Not much of it of any use in workin’ out why she was doin’ the things she was doin’.”

“The White Fang made a little more sense,” Fluttershy offered. “I felt… I felt sorry for them.”

Blake blinked rapidly, and looked down at her menu and said nothing.

“'Sorry for them'?” Weiss asked. “After they kidnapped you and held you hostage?”

“They didn’t hurt us,” Fluttershy pointed out. “Their leader even set me free, since I wasn’t a huntress or a fighter.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “I… really?”

“You don’t believe her?” Blake asked.

Weiss was quiet for a moment. “The White Fang does not have a history of sparing non-combatants.”

It hadn’t helped her father’s temperament when the few friends he had started being picked off, either in bombings or kidnapped and executed. None of them had been huntsmen or fighters, either.

“No,” Fluttershy whispered. “I’m aware of how lucky I am. But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and it doesn’t change the fact that the faunus we met down there weren’t evil; they’d just been given bad opportunities and so made bad choices.”

“Hmm,” Weiss murmured. “Very bad choices. And I, for one, feel better for knowing that the consequences of those choices caught up with them.”

“You mean you’re glad they’re dead?” Blake demanded.

Weiss did not flinch. “They were willing to encompass the deaths of the entire city of Vale,” she replied, her voice calm and a little cold. “They unleashed a horde of grimm into one of our great cities, the heart of a kingdom. I feel as though that should be borne in mind before we start shedding tears for them.” She paused for a moment, but not long enough for Blake to get a word in before she added, “I suppose you must be glad to be going home as well, Blake, after so long away on your undercover assignment.”

You’d do well to remember your cover story, even though everyone here knows that it’s false; it was bad enough at Beacon when you nearly gave yourself away with your attitudes; not everyone in Atlas will be as forgiving.

Blake hesitated for a moment. “I, yes, my… undercover assignment,” she said.

Weiss smiled at her. “Try and keep up, Blake; this is supposed to be your life, after all.” She paused for a moment. “May I offer you a piece of advice?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“I suppose that, being among the White Fang for so long, it became very easy to sympathise with them,” Weiss suggested.

“You… could say that,” Blake murmured.

“I have no opinion on that, one way or the other,” Weiss said, “but that sort of talk won’t go down too well everywhere in Atlas. Not from anyone,” she added, with a glance at Fluttershy, “but certainly not from a faunus, however valiant your service to the kingdom. Just something to bear in mind, for your own good. Not everyone who has suffered at the hands of the White Fang will be as tolerant as Flash is being.”

“We’re not without experience of the worst of the White Fang ourselves,” Twilight reminded Weiss.

“All the more reason to remember what others have been through,” Weiss told her. “I’m not denying that the faunus have suffered, and I’m certainly not denying the part that the SDC has played in that… but that doesn’t change the fact that, in their campaign for justice, the White Fang has left a trail of bodies in their wake.”

For a moment, the table fell silent. Then Blake said, “You’re right, of course; after… after spending so long with the White Fang, I do feel the desire to help my people, because they are still my people. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t also feel the need to stop them.”

“As I understand it, you have,” Weiss said. “In Vale, at least.”

Blake glanced away. “Well… so it seems.”

Weiss’ brow furrowed. “I apologise, perhaps I shouldn’t have brought the subject up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blake said quickly. “You… you gave me some very good advice, which I’ll bear in mind, and which I needed, having been… so long away from Atlas.” There was a pause as the waiter returned with Weiss’ and Flash’s drinks. Once he had set them down and then – having taken their orders – departed once again, Blake raised her glass. “To Atlas.”

The rest all raised their glasses, clinking them together in the air above the white-clothed table. “To Atlas!”

Twilight carried her shoes in one hand and walked barefoot down the corridors of the Hope back to their room, with Rainbow following behind her.

Neither of them said anything as they reached the room itself. The door slid open, and the two stepped inside. Rainbow flicked on the lights as the door slid shut after them.

“Hey, Twilight, check this out!” Spike cried in a high, boyish voice.

“Aah!” Twilight cried, stumbling backwards into Rainbow Dash, hitting her in the act of stumbling backwards in turn so that they both fell over together, landing with a crash on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Uh,” Rainbow said, “did Spike just-?”

“That’s right,” Spike said smugly, grinning from where he sat on the chair. “I can talk now. Pretty cool, huh?”

“No!” Twilight yelled, as she untangled herself from Rainbow Dash. “Not, ‘pretty cool,’ not cool at all!”

“Well-” Rainbow began.

“Not cool at all!” Twilight repeated, louder and with additional emphasis, silencing Rainbow in the process. She returned her attention to Spike. “What… how… since when? How did this happen?”

“I dunno,” Spike said. “I was looking at that canister, and then this green light came out of it-”

“What do you mean it came out?” Twilight demanded. “It’s sealed up!”

“Apparently not,” Spike replied.

Rainbow groaned as she picked herself up off the floor. “Great. Spike, did you see any more green stuff come out of there and where did it go?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Twilight snapped.

“Look, Twilight, I admit it’s kind of weird that Spike can talk now-”

“'Kind of weird'?”

“But I’m more worried about what magic leaking everywhere could do to the ship,” Rainbow went on. “Or, you know, the crew. Or us.”

“I didn’t see any more coming out,” Spike replied. “Just the stuff that got me.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Rainbow said. “All the same, I think we should try and find somewhere safer to put that, just in case. Like a dust case; they’re resistant.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Spike said. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to count on us getting that lucky every time,” Rainbow said.

She knelt down and reached under the lower bunk, dragging a shining metallic case out across the floor. Rainbow opened the case with a click, revealing various phials of dust of every different type and colour nestled within. Two by two, Rainbow began emptying the case, depositing the dust on the floor beside her.

“Will you please stop having a conversation with Spike?” Twilight moaned as she sat down on the bed.

Rainbow looked at her from over her shoulder. “I mean, he’s answering back. It’s not like I’m talking to a regular dog.”

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to a regular dog,” Twilight declared. She sank down onto her bunk. “It’s the answering back that’s the problem!”

“But why?” Spike asked. He hopped into her lap. “Twilight, I’m still me.”

To prove it, he leapt up and licked her face for good measure.

A smile crept onto Twilight’s face in spite of herself. “Sorry, I just… this is… how do you feel?”

“Confused?” Spike suggested. “But not that I can talk. More like I’m confused that I couldn’t do it before. It’s so easy.”

Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle as she picked Spike up and cradled him in her arms.

“So long as you’re okay, then I guess that’s okay,” she said, pressing his face to her cheek. “After all, I guess we all change, all the time, and that’s a good thing.”

“Sure,” Rainbow agreed. “But I’m still going to lock that canister away until we get to Atlas.”

The laughter of Twilight – and Spike – filled the room.

The door slid open before her.

Ciel stepped inside. Her footsteps echoed upon the metallic floor beneath, and the door hissed a second time as it closed after her.

Other than that, the room was silent. Like an empty church after the congregation had departed.

No, not like that at all. There was a comfort to be found in such silences, or at least, Ciel found it so; she meant nothing against an organised service, there was something to be said for hymns or communal prayers, there were certainly times when there was something to be said for a sympathetic ear from the pastor, but there were also times when Ciel preferred to simply walk into the empty church — the door was left open, even though the valuables were often secured at such times — and sit in one of the pews in the back row and pray. Or to approach the altar and kneel at the feet of the Lady, as the Lady knelt before God, and seek solace, wisdom, guidance, whatever one felt the need of at the present time.

It was sometimes good to be able to commune with the Lady — and through her, with God — absent intermediaries or interruptions, with nothing getting in the way of one’s thoughts flying heavenward. And, to speak truth, an empty church was about the only place left in the world where you could truly escape the world; there was no getting away from it anywhere else these days; if the people didn’t follow you, the culture would.

This was not a comforting silence. This was not a silence conducive to contemplation or to seeking solace. This silence had a prickly and uncertain edge to it, a silence that bred fear and misgiving, a silence that revolted against her presence. A silence that evoked darkness, however brightly lit the room might be.

A silence that made her want to leave.

But she would not leave. She would not turn and flee. She was a Flower of the North and made of braver stuff than that by far.

This … this might not be pleasant, but it was necessary.

Although the fact that the room was so silent was not a good sign.

Penny lay on the desk. It revolted Ciel to see her this way: immobile, naked, voiceless. It reminded her of the … the streets of Mantle, her home, were full of the homeless; they lurked upon street corners, and whether they sat hunched under the light or sought the shadow was a good indicator of whether one should offer them alms or stay well clear; sometimes, they were not alive to receive such charity. Despite the heating grid, the cold of night sometimes claimed them all the same. One saw their bodies, eyes open, bodies frozen in the position of their last shivering moments. One morning, they had found one such poor fellow blocking the stairwell of their tenement. It was never a pretty sight, and never an easy sight to forget. And Penny was lying there in just such a way, it…

Ciel trembled, as though the cold of Mantle’s night was reaching her even here. She swallowed. Her throat was dry.

“Penny, will you speak?” she asked, words tripping swiftly out of her mouth. “Say something, anything.”

“Good evening, Ciel,” Penny replied, her voice issuing out of the computer to which she was connected. “Is everything okay? You sound anxious.”

Ciel swallowed again, and was glad that she had not yet stepped into Penny’s field of vision. “I am … as well as you are,” she said. “Or ‘So long as you are well, then I am well,’ as the Lady opens her epistles.”

“I don’t feel well,” Penny opined. “I can barely feel anything.”

Ciel stepped forward, until she was looking down on Penny, so Penny could see her. She hoped that none of her feelings about Penny’s present condition communicated themselves in her expression. “Then my own wellness is reduced accordingly, for how could I be…”

Ciel trailed off; even in her head, that sounded absurdly melodramatic; it was one thing for the Lady of the North to write that way, but she was not the Lady of the North to speak so.

“I am not happy if you are not happy,” she said plainly.

“Sceptical: Really?” Penny asked.

Ciel frowned. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

“Saying the word ‘sceptical,’” Ciel explained.

“How else are you supposed to know how I feel?”

“Don’t do that,” Ciel instructed her. “It sounds ridiculous.”

“Now you understand why I’m sceptical,” Penny said.

Ciel paused for a moment. “I apologise; that was poorly judged of me.” She sat down. “Although, that being said, simply because I cannot be happy while you are unhappy does not mean that your happiness alone is enough to bring me joy.”

“Because I have to be happy doing what you want,” Penny said.

“What I want is not the issue,” Ciel insisted. “The issue is … Penny, why do you think that we have etiquette classes at Atlas?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I thought they were boring.”

“I suspect you are not alone in that,” Ciel muttered. “Nevertheless, there is a purpose.”

“What?”

“Well,” Ciel said, “in one of the trashy novels with which Rainbow Dash is unfortunately enamoured, the hero identifies a supposed ally as an enemy spy by the fact that he is so gauche as to order red wine with fish, which no well-educated Atlesian would ever do.” She cleared her throat. “Not that I’ve read any of them, of course.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, don’t worry,” Penny said.

Ciel chuckled. “I miss your voice, Penny,” she confessed. “I … miss being able to hear the emotion in it as you said such things.”

“Amused: Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That is no substitute at all, I’m afraid,” Ciel said dryly. “More pertinently, the reason for an etiquette is not merely the whim of some past headmaster; rather, it is because we are civilised people, defending a civilised world, and it behooves us to behave as such. Virtus, Penny, sometimes translated as virtue — although that is not as exact as the similarity in words might have you think — as set against the furor of grimm and of barbarians alike. And the higher, more refined quality will always triumph over the baser. The Vacuans think us soft, they think that a hard land has made them strong, and with their strength, they would sweep us aside if it came to it, but history shows it is not so. Nor shall it be so, because our virtus will always be superior so long as we maintain it. So, if it sometimes seems that I am hard on you, that I hold you to standards that are unnecessarily higher … it is only because I do not wish to see you fail.”

“Because that’s your mission,” Penny said. “To make sure that I don’t fail.”

“That is the mission,” Ciel conceded. “But it is not the source of my desire. I … I care about you, Penny. It… I confess it saddens me that you did not realise that.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “Rainbow Dash says that I should apologise to you, for being mean,” she said, “but I don’t think this is my fault; how was I supposed to know that you cared when you treat me like that?”

“I treat you as I would treat any of my own brothers!” Ciel declared hotly.

“Do your brothers know that you care about them?” Penny asked.

“Of—” Ciel stopped, because as easy as it would be reflexively to declare that of course they did … she hadn’t actually asked.

Such things … they didn’t tend to talk about such things in her family. Feelings, care, all rather awkward. And there were always more important things than sentiment, and in any case, with mother and father both so frequently away, she had — as the eldest — been forced to step into a role that made her somewhat more than an equal to her brothers. It was hard to talk about love and devotion when you were trying to corral an increasing number of boys to get their baths, or brush their teeth, or go to bed on time, and I know you didn’t say your prayers, Maurice! God may forgive you, but I may not!

She thought about her youngest brother, Alain; he was ill, quite grievously so, if the doctors were not very much mistaken. His condition made him fragile, and Ciel — they all, but Ciel’s focus was upon her own behaviour — took great pains with him on account of it.

She wondered, suddenly, if he found that as irksome as Penny apparently found her treatment.

“I … I hope so,” she said softly. “But I fear … you are correct; the fact that you could not discern my intent is not your fault. I should have been … I should not have assumed. I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Penny said. “I didn’t want to … I just wanted to … I want to be my own person.”

“And you think that I do not allow that?” Ciel asked.

“What is it that you want me to become, Ciel?” Penny responded.

Ciel considered her response for a little while; she would not lie to Penny — she might only get one chance to say this — but she would phrase the truth in the best way.

“I want you to be a good Atlesian girl,” she said.

“Like Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked. “Is she a good Atlesian girl?”

Ciel licked her lips. “Rainbow Dash … our esteemed leader has her virtues, although she is not without fault.”

“What about Neon Katt? Or Trixie Lulamoon? Or Starlight Glimmer?”

“Neon is a fine fighter and a better wit,” Ciel admitted, “but she takes her virtue to such excess that it becomes a vice; she has in her a little too much levity at times. I confess I do not know those other two save by reputation.”

“Are they good Atlesian girls?” Penny asked.

“I think you have a point to make,” Ciel guessed. “I would have you share it.”

“Why do they get to be weird, or flawed, or less than perfect, or something other than a good Atlesian girl, but I don’t?” Penny demanded. “Is it because I was made?”

“Yes,” Ciel admitted. “But not for the reasons you think.”

She paused for a moment.

“My brother Tyson wants to enlist as a mechanic, the same as my father,” she said. “I have no doubt that he will be accepted; he has skilled hands, and the military is always eager for recruits. In that position, any eccentricities he possesses — I confess I do not know if he has any — will be tolerated, as long as he keeps the airships flying. But I … I desire more than that.”

Again, she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Do you know that Neon Katt and I grew up in the same tenement in Mantle? That our families worship at the same church?”

“No,” Penny said. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, Neon doesn’t seem the religious type, does she?” Ciel commented dryly. “Nevertheless, it is the truth. Neon … Neon is more entertaining to be around than myself, I grant; I myself enjoy her company, although perhaps I should tell her so in case she, too, has failed to realise it. She is witty, charming … and I fear she will be lucky to reach lieutenant in this army, let alone higher. Starlight Glimmer, with her record … she may behave as she pleases, for she has blotted her copybook with her conduct already; no one will trust her with a command. Rainbow Dash enjoys General Ironwood’s favour and his patronage. Trixie Lulamoon … as I say, I do not know her; I cannot say whether she realises what an impression she is making with her antics. But I do know that she is not from Mantle.”

She took a deep breath and forced down the anger that she felt, the anger that she did not allow herself to feel, over the way in which those who hailed from Mantle were treated like second class within their own kingdom. Over the way in which those with ability and the accomplishments to prove said ability were passed over in favour of those who spoke with the right accent, who came from ‘the right background,’ who had ‘good families’ who would speak up for them and ensure their places.

“Do you remember our mission to Cold Harbour?” Ciel asked.

“Yes,” Penny replied.

“I fear I maligned Blake there,” Ciel admitted. “When she … gave you cause to doubt yourself, and to doubt how Ruby and Pyrrha would react to learning the truth about you, I was very cross with her. But the truth is, she was not entirely wrong. You and I … we will always be outsiders, and that means that we cannot afford to be anything less than good girls, not if we wish to prosper on the inside.”

“And what if I don’t want that?” Penny asked. “What if I’d rather just be me?”

“You do not know the cost of what you ask,” Ciel replied.

“And you do?”

“I know it well; my father has lived it his entire career,” Ciel declared, her voice rising even as she herself rose to her feet. “My father … my father wanted to be a pilot. He had the educational qualifications necessary to qualify him to enter flight school, but when he went to the recruiting office, the sergeant assumed, based on his background, that he had come to join up as an enlisted man.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

“He was too nervous,” Ciel said, “and confrontation is not his way. It has to be admitted that he is a good mechanic, but at the same time, it must gall him, to have been treated in such a way, never to rise beyond the middle reaches of the non-commissions, to grow old in the service taking orders from a succession of arrogant young officers who do not know one tenth of what he has learned about airships or engineering, but they were born in the right place, and they know the right people!”

She turned away, half-covering her mouth with one hand.

“I am sorry, Penny, I did not mean to raise my voice. The Lady teaches us that anger is not a thing to be indulged. And yet … and yet, there are times when … there are times when I fear that the light of Atlas is not so pure and untarnished as I would have it.” She sighed. “But we must live in the world that is, even if we seek to make a better one. I would be more than my father was condemned to. That will not happen if I am not … correct, in all aspects.”

“That’s what you want,” Penny pointed out. “But that doesn’t have to be what I want.”

“You want to spend your life watching others rise around you while you are ignored?” Ciel asked, turning back towards her.

“I don’t think I want to be a general, or a colonel, or even a major,” Penny said. “I think I’d rather be happy. Are you happy, Ciel?”

Ciel did not reply for a moment. “So long as you are happy, Penny,” she said, “then I will be happy.”

Request and Revelation (New)

Request and Revelation

I’m aware that this is quite a request on my part.

I mean, you could certainly say that, yes.

Although, in my defence, it is only two visitors; it’s not like I want you to allow the whole Academy through the portal. However, in my prosecution, I should admit that I didn’t consult with you or Princess Celestia when I probably should have before I told my teammates and Blake and Penny — and Penny must have told Rainbow as well, because there’s nowhere else she could have found out — and your counterpart here in Remnant about Equestria.

Do you trust them?

I wouldn’t have told them if I didn’t.

Then I don’t consider that a problem, and I don’t think Princess Celestia would consider it a problem either. Your new request, on the other hoof, well, that’s something else, isn’t it?

Sunset ran one hand through her hair. Yes, her new request. The request that she probably should have made before she had spoken to Penny, but … well, she’d seemed so down, and after they’d gotten to talking about Equestria…

It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Although that doesn’t mean much, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve done what seemed to be the right thing at the time, only for it to turn out to be emphatically the wrong thing. However, as far as I can see at the moment, this not only seemed like the right thing at the time, but it still seems like the right thing.

Twilight did not reply. Not at once, not for some time. Not for so long, in fact, that Sunset began to wonder if something had happened to her; nothing serious, she hoped. Nothing serious, she thought; this was Equestria, after all; it wasn’t likely that some masked home invader had burst into the library and taken Princess Twilight hostage — not least because they didn’t have home invaders in Equestria, or guns for that matter. However, it was not beyond the bonds of possibility that Twilight had been called away on some urgent business — a summons from Princess Celestia telling her that she needed to put on a play or organise a reception for visiting ambassadors or save the world or something; Twilight’s days seemed to consist of a mixture of such things — in which case, Sunset might be waiting for some time. Twilight might not even get back to her until tomorrow or later.

Still, Sunset sat. She was presently in the library, dark and silent, where the light above her kept intermittently going out because she wasn’t moving around enough to trigger the motion sensors.

She had been spending more and more time here over the last few nights. She couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t want to disturb the others — only Yang was allowed to spend nights at the hospital with Ruby, since she was her actual blood-and-law kin; although they would have all liked to have spent at least some nights with her, it wasn’t allowed — so she haunted the library in the middle of the night, reading or looking up pointless trivia on the computers, coming up with team attacks that did or did not make sense, depending on just how sleep-deprived and fogged over her mind was at the time — Pyrrha throwing Jaune with her semblance was not a good idea, and she would not be sharing it with the rest of the team. Sometimes, she fell asleep here; sometimes, she went back to the dorm room after midnight and collapsed into bed for a few hours before waking up to start the new day.

Even then, sometimes, she didn’t sleep. Whether she slept or not, it made her feel no more refreshed than she had been before, no less tired; waking or sleeping, she was haunted by the dead.

They hovered around her, whispering in her ears.

Who is the other?

You’re back.

I wasn’t gone that long.

You were gone for a little bit.

Who is the other?

What do you mean?

You said that you only wanted for two people to come to visit Equestria; one of them is Penny, but who is the other?

Oh, yes. I think that Blake might get something out of it as well.

Really?

Really. Penny isn’t the only one who had a rough time down in Mountain Glenn. To be honest, many people had a rough time down beneath Mountain Glenn, but Penny and Blake had it amongst the worst, and I think they would get something out of visiting Equestria that others would not.

Twilight: Was it bad?

Sunset stared down at those three words. Was it bad? Was it bad when Blake had to fight the man she loved and watch him die?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Penny was broken, to all intents and purposes?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Jaune lost the ancestral sword, his connection to his heroic past?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Ruby got put into a coma saving the rest of them?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Sunset got six people killed?

Was it bad?

Three words. Three words which, however innocently meant and well-intentioned, seemed scarcely adequate to encompass everything that had gone on beneath Mountain Glenn, all that they had done and all that they had suffered.

Yes, is the short answer. As for the long answer, I scarcely know where to begin. We were not prepared.

You’re not talking in physical terms, are you?

No. Would that I was. No, we were not prepared for what we would find down there, or for what it would demand of us to survive.

But you did survive.

Yes. Yes, we survived.

You don’t really want to talk about it, do you?

No. Although that doesn’t preclude the possibility that I should.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, staring down at the page and at the words she had already written. What to say? How to go on? How much to explain? What to leave out? She decided to be very brief, to not go into too many details, to say only what was necessary to convey the harrowing nature of what they had been through down there underneath Mountain Glenn.

We came under repeated attack. Which would have been a little wearing but which we could have weathered, on its own. But it was not on its own.

Sunset breathed deeply. There was much of this that she did not want to say, and yet, at the same time, she felt that she ought to say it, not only in the interests of truth, but because … because Twilight was the only person to whom she could say some of it.

We met Salem under there.

You mean the Mistress of the Grimm? The immortal enemy?

The very same.

She was there supervising the attack herself?

No, I suppose I ought to clarify that it wasn’t exactly her in person; it was a projection of her. She had a creature, like a crystal ball with tentacles sticking out of the bottom

Thank you for that mental image.

You should thank me, I haven’t described the worst of it, nor will I. But the point is that she appeared to us in the crystal ball-like thing. She showed herself to us.

What was she like?

She looked like the corpse of a drowned woman.

Again, thank you for that mental image.

Trust me, it isn’t any nicer for me to think of either.

She thought that possibly the only reason she wasn’t having nightmares about Salem was that she was having nightmares about the six dead Valish instead. There was even an extent to which that was preferable.

She wasn’t a pretty sight.

Evil seldom is, I must admit. Chrysalis gave me nightmares for a fortnight after my brother’s wedding.

The changeling queen?

She has holes in her. Holes! As though she is starting to rot away, as though maggots and grubs are eating her up from the inside out. It’s unnatural.

And, being unnatural, it is creepy and disturbing in equal measure.

Just like Salem, I take it?

That was not the worst part.

She took a deep breath. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the pen.

She got inside our heads. She played on our fears and our desires; she put the fear in us: in the Rosepetals, in Pyrrha, in Blake, even in Ruby. I didn’t think anyone or anything could get to Ruby like that, but she reduced her to a huddled, sobbing mess on the floor with a few words.

I take it that they weren’t just very well chosen words?

I would bet everything I own that there was magic at work.

To what end? I mean, why was she even doing that?

To delay us? To see what we were made of? For fun? I don’t know what was in her mind, and I’m not sure that I want to.

And you?

And me?

Were you affected by her?

Sunset paused. She closed her eyes, screwed them up tight. She found her breathing becoming more rapid.

Yes. Yes, I was. I tried to hide it in front of the others, I even think I did a pretty good job of hiding it, but yes, she got to me. She threatened my friends, made me angry; at first, I was glad of it, for the anger gave me the strength to shatter her orb, and her power with it. She was gone, she couldn’t trouble us any more — not that she’s dead, you understand, the real Salem is still out there somewhere — but after the anger fled, there was only the fear. The fear of losing them. That was why, when Adam showed his face, I did something very stupid.

Go on.

I grabbed him and teleported him away so that I could fight him alone with no one else around me.

Yes, you’re right, that was stupid.

Ruby was there; he already nearly killed her once.

Nearly killed you as well, something which I haven’t mentioned to Princess Celestia.

An omission for which I am very grateful, believe me. I wouldn’t want her to worry.

But you’re fine with me worrying?

Do you worry about me?

It’s the middle of the night; do you think I’d still be up writing to you if I didn’t care?

Sunset hadn’t considered that in any sense, a fact for which she felt guilty, now that it had been pointed out to her.

I’m sorry, I should have considered; go to bed, we can pick this up tomorrow or some other time.

It’s fine, please, go on.

Obviously, it isn’t fine, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.

I’m more concerned with the fact that — as we established very early on — it’s the middle of the night for you as well. What are you doing up so late?

I like the nights, I get my best thinking done at this time.

There was a pause before any reply came from Twilight.

Evidently, you survived Adam, or you wouldn’t be writing to me, so what happened?

I fought him. I did better than he might have expected, but not brilliantly. I fear my luck was running out before Blake came to my aid. She fought him, and again, did well enough, but not brilliantly. The tide was turning in his favour before I killed him.

A few moments passed, absent any kind of reply.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t congratulate you.

Believe me, I don’t want congratulations. I know that I sought this. I know that I spoke to you about wanting it, and about the necessity to do it, but once the moment came, once I actually did it, I felt none of the joy or vindication that I had expected. I did what I had to do in that moment, to protect Blake, but it brought me no pleasure. It has brought me some glory, which would have pleased me once upon a time, but now, it does nothing for me. I killed a man, and that is no longer something for which I wish to be celebrated. I didn’t take his sword, I didn’t crow about it, I only took credit for it because I’d rather the White Fang came after me for revenge than Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, or Blake. Blake saw him die, and before that, she found out that maybe he wasn’t irredeemably awful after all. He had taken Fluttershy and Applejack — the human versions of Fluttershy and Applejack — hostage, and yet, he let Fluttershy go. Out of the kindness of his heart, or because her heart moved him to kindness, one of the two.

Is there that much difference? Fluttershy is an amazing pony — my Fluttershy, this — but I don’t believe that she can create kindness in a heart that has no trace of such.

What about Discord?

Discord is actually a perfect example. Fluttershy didn’t make him kind; she didn’t banish evil from him and replace it with goodness. I don’t think she even planted the seed of kindness in him. But she gave it room to grow; she watered it and shone the sunlight on that seed. I believe that any kindness Adam showed her was in him all along, however well hidden.

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut for a moment. Should it be seven lives for which I feel guilty?

You’ll forgive me if I don’t pass that on to Blake. I doubt it would make her feel any better.

Or you?

That’s less important, but no, it doesn’t make me feel any better either.

I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that there’s anything I could have said in this situation that would have made you feel better.

No. I think you’re probably right. I much preferred when I could think of him as a mad dog.

It may bring you no joy, but I think that it might be better this way; perhaps you should remember this, before you decide you have the right to deal out death and judgement: that which you see of your enemies is not all that there is in them to be seen.

At the moment, it’s Pyrrha who needs to learn that, not me. She is upset with herself that Cinder escaped her. Another one who has more to her than is seen by the world. She frightens Pyrrha the way that Adam frightened me, and in her fear, she seeks her death as I sought his. Like me, she sought to confront Cinder alone, unaided. Jaune was somewhat put out with her about that.

Is Pyrrha okay? I’m guessing you would have mentioned it earlier if she wasn’t, but is she?

She is physically unharmed, which is more than can be said for Penny or Ruby; she believes that we won the battle, which is more than can be said for Jaune or Blake. She is probably the best of us, in terms of her condition; whether that alone allows her to rise to the level of being said to be okay is a question that is harder to answer. I wish that I could help them all. I wish that I could take their pains, even if it means taking them upon myself, I wish there was some spell that

Sunset paused for a moment.

Now, there’s an idea.

No. No, there really isn’t.

Sunset sighed. Unfortunately, you’re probably right. If there was such a spell, it would probably have side effects, like causing amnesia or something.

I’ll go further and say that amnesia would probably be the intent of this hypothetical spell, to make people forget their emotion, or the event that triggered it. That’s not a route I recommend.

Is there anything that you do recommend?

You could talk to your friends as well as to me; instead of wishing that you could shoulder all their pain upon yourself, why don’t you try and share it around all of you?

I don’t think anyone is in the mood to talk about it.

I can understand that, but it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t. What about Professor Goodwitch, didn’t she help Jaune deal with his problems after the battle on the train?

Yes. Yes, she did.

She could help again.

I trust her less than I did before I knew that she was a part of Professor Ozpin’s network, but I will consider it. Will you at least consider my request?

Provided that it was carefully managed so that no one could accidentally find their way into Equestria, I would have no objections in principle, and given that you trust both Penny and Blake, I don’t think that Princess Celestia would have any objections either. As for whether or not it can be done, I actually have an idea as to how that might be accomplished, and this will give me an excuse to put it into practice.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. You do? The practicalities were the obstacle I thought would be the hardest to overcome.

I actually need to credit Pinkie with this; I was discussing with my friends some time ago how, even if you wanted to come home to Equestria, it would be impossible since the portal between our two worlds is closed except at certain times. Pinkie pointed out to me that, although the portal is closed, our worlds are still connected via these journals that we communicate with.

So you can apply the magic of the journal to the mirror to enable it to work at will, while you can still use the journal to write to me any time when the mirror portal is not in use. That’s actually quite brilliant; and that was Pinkie Pie’s idea?

You’ll forgive me if I don’t dignify that with a response.

Sorry.

There was no need for me to see if it actually worked before now, although I’m pretty sure it will. What I’m not so sure of is how this will help Penny or Blake.

As for Blake: Equestria is a post-racial society, to all intents and purposes, having put aside old divisions and come together in a spirit of harmony and equality. I think it would do her good to see that such a thing is possible, even if it does take time and hard work.

I’m not sure about the extent of the comparisons between the three pony tribes and humans and faunus in Remnant, but I see your point. And Penny?

I think Penny would enjoy it.

Surely you could say that about any number of people?

Perhaps, but Penny was the one who said that she’d love to see my home for herself. And I think, sweet as she is, that she would enjoy it more than anyone else that I could think of.

I suppose that’s as good a reason as any. As I say, I don’t have any objections to the two of them, and although I won’t claim to speak for Princess Celestia

You have as good a claim as any pony does to speak for Princess Celestia.

Nevertheless, I won’t presume, save to say that I don’t think she’ll object.

Thank you, Twilight. I will pass that on, and I’m sure Penny will be delighted. I’ll let you know when she’s fit to travel.

And I’ll let you know when the portal will admit her — and Blake. What do you think Penny will become on the other side of the mirror?

I really have no idea.

Neither do I, but it’s fascinating to ponder, isn’t it?

A moment passed, and then another, before Twilight continued.

I don’t suppose we can expect you to pay a visit to Equestria with them? You could come as a chaperone.

They don’t need a chaperone, or at least Blake will be a more than adequate chaperone for Penny. They might need a guide; can I ask you to take care of that?

I will do it, but so could you if you were inclined. You know that Princess Celestia would be delighted to see you. I’d kind of like to meet you face to face as well.

I mean no disrespect to Princess Celestia, and no insult to you, when I say that it cannot be so. I have not earned the right.

I see. You have not earned the right, well, that’s quite understandable, isn’t it? Are you ready to talk about yourself now?

Sunset frowned.

What do you mean?

I mean that it’s the middle of the night, and you’re still up with no indication that you were planning to turn in any time soon; you’ve mentioned what a rough time everyone had down in Mountain Glenn, but you haven’t said much about yourself, you’ve talked about taking everyone else’s burdens on your shoulders while glossing over your own, you just told me that you don’t have the right to come back to Equestria, and even before that, you talked about things not working out the way you expected; now just what am I supposed to take away from that? What’s going on, Sunset, what happened down there?

Once more, Sunset’s hand trembled. Once more, she stared down at the page in front of her. She felt ice enclose its cold grip around her stomach.

And yet, if not to Twilight, then who can I confess to?

But her hand kept trembling as she began to write the words.

Adam is not the only death upon my conscience.

I’m sorry. Are these more enemies? All your friends are accounted for?

Neither friends nor enemies.

She hesitated, considering how she could even begin to phrase this.

Princess, what would you do if you had to choose between your friends and some kind of higher cause, higher purpose, that sort of thing? If you had to choose between the many and the few, but you knew the few and the many were strangers to you, what would you choose?

I chose my friends.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Did she just…?

Come again?

Are you surprised that something like that could happen in Equestria?

Sunset could almost feel the heaviness behind each word; she could sense the weariness within them.

It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that happens in the land that I remember. Would you like to talk about it?

Are you enjoying this?

No. Not at all. Not in the least bit, not for a single moment. I just want to know if you want to talk about it. Truth to tell, I feel ashamed for wittering on about myself for so long and ignoring your burdens. I have been very selfish. I didn’t even consider that you might be weighed down. I marvel that you’ve been so patient with me.

It’s fine, really. I don’t begrudge your desire for counsel. I know that my life is a great deal easier than yours, on the whole.

But would you like to talk about a time when it was not so?

There was a moment of pause, when no new words appeared on the paper, before Twilight’s distinctive, elegant hornwriting resumed.

Tirek escaped from Tartarus recently. Did Celestia teach you about him?

No. But if he escaped from Tartarus, I’m guessing that he can’t be anyone good.

He wasn’t. He was a I don’t suppose it really matters what he was. But he escaped, and he started consuming magic. All of it, from unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies alike, it was all the same to him. It was all power. Nobody could stop him, so Celestia, Luna, and Cadance gave up their alicorn magic to me so that I could hide it. Hide it or use it, if I had to.

Which, of course, you did.

Yes. He found me, and I fought him. I couldn’t beat him, but he couldn’t beat me either. We were at a stalemate, evenly matched, but when it came down to it, I traded all the alicorn magic in Equestria to him in exchange for my friends the moment that he took them hostage and threatened their lives. They even told me not to do it. But I did it anyway. I handed Equestria over to a monster because those girls mean everything to me. I’d give my life for them, but I don’t think that I could live without them.

I know exactly what you mean. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. Fortunately, the very fact that you are able to write to me implies some reversal in your fortunes.

Indeed, thank goodness. We were able to defeat Tirek; he could absorb all of our magic except for the magic of friendship that bound us together. That was how we beat him.

If only I could say the same.

I’m glad you’re okay, at least. And Princess Celestia too.

But there really is no backing out now.

I had a choice of my own to make. The White Fang’s plan was to load their army upon a train and use a great quantity of stolen dust to blow a way into the city itself. Cinder’s plan was to have that train followed by a great horde of grimm — it was they, and not the White Fang, whom she trusted to overrun the defences of Vale and lay waste to the city. If we had known, or at least if I had known then what she intended, or if I had thought about it for long enough and not let the wild enthusiasm of Ruby and the others carry me off, I would have ordered a withdrawal from Mountain Glenn.

But I was not so wise, and we were so eager and so vain of our skill, and everyone else was so determined to do all they could and risk all that they were to save Vale that we boarded the train before the grimm pursuit began. With my magic, I reached the front of the train first; we planned to stop it in its tracks and make a barrier of it.

I reached the front of the train and found the detonator there. A detonator, at least, Rainbow — my Rainbow Dash — tells me there must have been another in Cinder’s possession, but in any case, I found a detonator there. A detonator and Cinder’s voice, informing me that all other exits out of the tunnel had been sealed off, there was no way out from underground except to use the detonator and blast a path into the city.

As I say, I had a choice to make: I could either guarantee the safety of the city in exchange for what seemed to me to be a certain chance that my friends would perish, or I could put the city at risk in exchange for increasing the chance that my friends would be safe.

And you, too, chose your friends, just as I did.

But I was not so fortunate as you. We won the battle, and the city was saved — but not without loss. As I said, I have more deaths upon my conscience than just Adam Taurus. The Atlesian military was alerted to the impending attack — by your counterpart, as it happens — but six people died nevertheless: five civilians and one of my classmates.

I’m sorry to hear that.

There was a delay before she added. Forgive me, I scarcely know what else to say.

You wanted to know what the matter was with me.

I did, and I thank you for telling me. It’s just that now you have told me, I do not know how I should respond.

If you wish to condemn me, I will bear it.

No. No, I will not do that. I do not have the right. You chose your friends, as I did, I will not condemn you for being less fortunate than I, for not possessing the key to victory as I did, for not having access to a magic that would redeem all errors as I did.

Of course, that being so, I have no right to absolve you of your guilt, either. For we are guilty of the same mistakes, only I am preserved from consequence in ways that you are not.

You think your actions a mistake, then? And mine, too?

In truth, I know not. A part of me fears — and thinks, what is more — it must be so, but there are other parts of me that feel otherwise. Sunset, do you regret your choice?

No. I do not regret my choice. I regret the consequences that flowed out of my choice, I regret the deaths that resulted from it, but I would make the same choice again if I had to. I do not have it in me to condemn Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, or even Rainbow Dash to death. I do not have it in me. I am not made of such. And yet, though I do not regret the choice, nevertheless, like you, I fear it was the wrong choice. I am certain sure that it was not the choice of a hero.

Then it appears that we are neither of us heroes.

Oh, come on! I defy any biographer to tally up the number of times you have saved Equestria and then say that you are not a hero.

Is that all there is to call oneself a hero? Deeds? A tally of the number of times the world was saved? The number of foes vanquished? I think you know better than that; being a hero is a quality of heart and spirit

And you have both, or else Princess Celestia would not have placed her faith in you.

She placed her faith in you, once, yet that does not stop your self-reproaches.

Touché, and yet you cannot deny that you have walked the path with more success than I.

And yet, here we are. When Princess Celestia asked me to bear this charge, I declared that I was ready to do my duty as a princess of Equestria. Literally, my exact words as I stood in the throne room were ‘This is the role I am meant to play as a princess of Equestria! I will not fail to do my duty!’ Looking back at that moment, and those words, I almost want to cringe at the unearned pride and baseless arrogance on display. I was puffed up on destiny and the well-intentioned praise that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Cadance had all showered on me to convince me that I could do this.

Trust me, you aren’t alone when it comes to unearned pride and baseless arrogance. There are things that I said and thought going into Mountain Glenn that, like you, make me want to cringe. I was so cocky, so confident, I told myself that I could defy anything that fate had in store for us, and I convinced the others of it too.

I thought that I had finally found my destiny, the reason why I had become a princess, the reason I’d been given these wings, I thought that this was what I was meant to do, the part that I was meant to play. Now

Twilight paused for a few moments before continuing the sentence.

I am not sure that it was so.

At least you can say that it is appropriate for a Princess of Friendship to choose her friends over the greater good.

I don’t find that very funny.

Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t trying to be funny, isn’t it? I was trying to offer some small comfort, although I do not say that I was doing well.

If that is what it means to be Princess of Friendship, then is a Princess of Friendship such a good thing for Equestria to have?

Yes, as it happens. How else was Tirek to be defeated? Destiny, it seems, moves in a mysterious way. You should take comfort from that.

In ways that you cannot?

It didn’t all resolve so neatly for me.

She ran one hand through her fiery hair.

They haunt me, Twilight.

Who?

The dead, Sky and all the rest of them.

This feels like eavesdropping on the relatives of a patient in hospital.

Sorry, I impose too much.

It’s not your fault, I just don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine anything like it. I’m sorry.

I’m not the one who deserves your sorrow.

Your friends know what you did, don’t they?

They were right there, telling me not to do it.

And how have they taken the fact that you did it anyway?

We don’t talk about it. Maybe we should, but they don’t seem to want to, and I don’t want to either. Perhaps it’s better that way, as strange as it seems to suggest such a thing. Perhaps there is such a thing as too much honesty, and we can all go on pretending that it didn’t happen. It’s certainly easier than the alternative. Do your friends

No. Well, Rainbow Dash knows. She tells me that I shouldn’t take it so hard. She tells me that Cinder wouldn’t leave her plan to chance on the risk that I would choose not to detonate the mine. She thinks that my actions didn’t change anything.

Have you considered that she might be right?

I have, but I don’t see that it matters. Whether or not things would have happened the same way regardless of what I did, the fact remains that I did this thing, and other things resulted. The rest of my friends don’t know, and they can never know; there’s no way that they’d forgive me for it.

I should probably tell you to take the risk and be surprised by their capacity for forgiveness, but I don’t have the right to do that either, as we’ve just discussed. But are you so certain of their reaction?

I am certain of Ruby’s reaction, at the least. She would have condemned us all.

Forgive me, but that doesn’t sound like an altogether good thing.

I agree with you, but, as we’ve already established, we’re not heroes, unlike Ruby. Goodnight, Princess Twilight, I will not keep you up any more.

Will you at least try to get some sleep yourself?

I will try, yes. Goodnight.

Let me just leave you with one more thought: it’s no bad thing to care about your friends, or to fear to lose them. You’ve come a long way, Sunset, don’t forget that. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Princess.

She shut the book, and pushed it across the table away from her a little bit, and let out a long sigh as she threw back her head.

Contrary to what she had said to Twilight, she made no move to get up and go to bed herself. She didn’t even try. She just sat there, staring up at the light until it turned off from her lack of movement, at which point, she was just sitting there, staring up at a dark ceiling, waiting … for what?

She had no idea.

The light switched on again, not just over Sunset’s head but all around, the lights switching on leading towards the way into the library. Sunset looked around to see Pyrrha approaching, Pyrrha clad in her huntress gear, with the pale library lights reflecting off the bronze of her armour and the golden band around her arm and the circlet upon her brow. Her ponytail swung behind her ever so slightly as she approached, with her hands resting by her sides. Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent library.

Her brow was slightly furrowed, pinching her pale face as she walked towards Sunset.

“Did you know,” she said softly, as if the library were full of people she feared to disturb, “that whenever you use your scroll to gain access to any part of the campus, it logs your location?”

“No,” Sunset said, speaking equally softly as her hands reached out towards the magical journal. Her gloved fingertips touched the leather cover. “I didn’t know that.” She paused. “Why are you dressed like that? Up late training with Jaune?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although a few late night training sessions wouldn’t go amiss, if I could find an opponent. As for Jaune, it’s hard to train with a broken sword.”

Sunset winced. “Has he decided what he’s going to do about that?”

“Not yet,” Pyrrha replied. “The point is that I put this on because … because it seemed appropriate, before going into battle.”

“Battle?” Sunset repeated. “Who are you fighting?”

“You, I’m afraid.”

“Me?” Sunset shook her head. “I wouldn’t fight you, Pyrrha. I know better now.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully. “I spoke to Professor Goodwitch because I wanted to know where you were going every night, why your bed was empty. She told me, from your scroll records, that you were coming here. Why?”

Sunset looked away. “I don’t feel like sleeping.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” Pyrrha insisted, her voice sharpening. “It matters because you know full well that if I were behaving like this, you would stop at nothing to find out what was going on and how you could fix it. Please don’t be so arrogant as to assume that you are the only one who can notice a friend in trouble or do anything about it.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “You don’t need to help me, Pyrrha.”

“You wouldn’t let that stop you, either.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t, and you know it isn’t,” Pyrrha declared. “This is nothing to do with being team leader or not; this … this is a simple matter of friendship. What’s wrong, Sunset? How can I help?”

Sunset did not meet Pyrrha’s eyes. “Your offer is generous, but … I fear that you cannot. Just as I think that…” She trailed off.

If you did tell your friends the truth, they might surprise you.

No. No, I dare not.

“You know what’s wrong,” Sunset finished.

Pyrrha bowed her head a little. “May I sit down?” she asked.

“Be my guest,” Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha took the seat opposite. She looked down at the book beneath Sunset’s fingertips. “That is the book, isn’t it? The magic book?”

Sunset nodded. “It is.”

“And what does your princess say?” Pyrrha asked. “If you can tell me; I don’t ask you to betray any confidences.”

“I mainly talk to … my princess’ latest student, or former latest student,” Sunset explained. “Someone closer to my equal. To my princess, I speak somewhat less frequently. I believe she is well enough, although there were some disturbances recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pyrrha said, “but glad that everything is better now.”

“Things are usually settled fairly swiftly in Equestria,” Sunset said. “Would that the same could be said here.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha whispered. She fell silent for a moment, and then a moment more. “Sunset, misery and grief will not bring Sky and those other five poor souls back to life. Nor will it bring them any aid or comfort for you to … you must live. We all must.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “I must confess I’m surprised to hear that from you. That seems … a very modern attitude.”

“You have taken to Mistralian ways very well in some respects, but in this, you are more Valish, or Atlesian,” Pyrrha replied. “In Mistral we do not mourn excessively. We … when my father died, almost as soon as his funeral was over, my mother rolled up her sleeves — metaphorically speaking, of course — and got back to work, managing her lands and portfolio.”

“Some might find that callous,” Sunset observed.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed. “But how would it serve my father’s spirit for my mother to sink into such a despond that the House of Nikos crumbled into rack and ruin?”

“Is that why you can be so cavalier with your own safety?” Sunset asked. “Because you do not expect Jaune or me or even your own mother to mourn excessively if we lost you?”

“We’re not discussing me.”

“Perhaps we should.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I … my mother, at least—”

“Would die the death, the moment news of your death reached her,” Sunset declared. “What would she have to live for, the future of the House of Nikos being stolen away, her line extinguished? As for Jaune and I, as you correctly point out, we are not Mistralian.”

“Yet it would serve me not if you wept all your tears for me, if you sought hopeless battles, becoming heedless of your own—”

“We cannot always act based solely on what serves others best, not even the dead shades of our dear friends!” Sunset snapped, her voice rising. “We are ruled not always by our heads but by our hearts, our hearts that would be shattered by the loss of you.”

Pyrrha met Sunset’s gaze. “Is your heart shattered now?”

Sunset shook her head. “But my stomach is ill, and my head is guilty.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together before she spoke. “Death is not something to be sought after eagerly, but nor can it be escaped. It will come for all of us, and for a warrior, it will likely come swifter than for others. If we die ourselves with every loss that we suffer, then … we do not honour those who fell.”

“If Jaune died,” Sunset said, “would you roll up your sleeves — metaphorically, of course — on the day of the funeral?”

“That’s a rather unfair question,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Perhaps, for which I apologise,” Sunset said. “And yet, at the same time, a rather pertinent question, don’t you agree?”

Pyrrha glanced away. “I mean to see that he does not fall.”

“That is not an answer,” Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha swallowed. “I never claimed to be a perfect Mistralian,” she conceded.

Sunset could not restrain a laugh. “No,” she admitted. “No, you did not; that is very well put. I will concede the point.”

“I would rather you conceded my main point,” Pyrrha said. “We must live, Sunset. For all that we have left to live for.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Pyrrha … Sunset was not a Mistralian, and yet, Pyrrha talked a great deal of good sense. It was, if truth be told and Sunset be honest, a more sensible attitude than some of the Mistralian pride and honour that Sunset had embraced with greater readiness. It felt like callousness, and yet was it not more callous that she would make again the choice that had condemned those souls to death? How did her not sleeping, or haunting the library, or anything else help the dead, help Sky or any other?

It wasn’t even helping Sunset feel better.

Sunset doubted that anything would help her to feel better, and that was probably as much as she deserved, but while she was feeling guilty, she could at least be useful to the people who were still counting on her — Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby when she woke up — instead of a melancholy lump or sleep-deprived mess.

Sunset would not sleep the sleep of the just — she was under no illusions on that score — but she could at least rest her weary body for more than a few snatched hours.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Pyrrha smiled with equal softness as in Sunset’s voice. “Any time,” she said. She got up and held out her dark-gloved hand. “Are you coming?”

Sunset picked up the journal with one hand, and placed the other into Pyrrha’s palm, and let the other girl lead her out of the library as the lights went dark behind them.

What Did I Miss? (Rewritten)

What Did I Miss?

Sunset rubbed her eyes. She was a little too tired to deal with this right now. Unfortunately, it wasn't likely to wait for her to start sleeping better. "So… your dog is talking now?"

Spike the dog poked his head into view of Twilight's scroll screen. "Yeah," he said. "And I don't know how I got by without it."

Sunset blinked, several times and very rapidly. "Okay, that… and you think that my magic had something to do with this?"

"I know that your magic had something to do with it!" Twilight replied vehemently.

"I saw it," Spike explained. "This green light came out of the bottle, and it flew towards me – sort of; it kind of took its time – and then it touched me, and I could talk."

"Is that what your magic does?" Twilight asked. "Is that how you can be a unicorn?"

"Well, yes, but no, not in the way that you mean," Sunset said quickly. "Yes, I am a unicorn because I have magic, or to put it another way, I have magic because I am a unicorn – it's a very phoenix and flame situation – but no, Equestria is not a land of talking animals-"

"You admitted to Penny that you were a talking horse."

"Unicorn," Sunset insisted. "Horses are twice the size and half the cuteness. My point is that we have pet dogs just like you do, and none of them talk."

"Then why is Spike talking?" Twilight demanded.

"I don't know; does it matter?" Sunset asked. "You're not unhappy, are you? You don't want him to change back?"

"I don't want to change back," Spike pointed out.

"And I respect Spike's choice," Twilight said. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to understand what happened, and why, and whether it will happen again."

"It won't happen again," Sunset assured her. She paused. "It probably won't happen again."

"'Probably'?" Twilight said, outrage and uncertainty mingling in her voice.

Sunset sighed. "Twilight, I have control over my magic when it is in me, a part of me, but the moment that I sever that link, as I have done in order to give you your sample, I lose control over it, and it becomes wild magic, and wild magic is unpredictable by nature. You didn't take the lid off, did you?

"No!"

"Then maybe put some duct tape around the lid; it might stop it happening again."

"That isn't terribly reassuring," Twilight said dryly. "So there's no way to know that this isn't going to cause any more trouble."

"I don't think that it is causing trouble," Sunset answered. "It's doing things, but you've accepted that Spike is fine the way he is, and some people might say that he's improved."

Twilight frowned. "Are you saying that your magic is trying to help?"

"I'm saying that it wants to be used," Sunset said. "Nature abhors a vacuum; magic abhors idleness. Think of it like a muscle; if it isn't used, then it will atrophy, except that this muscle can-"

"Get up and walk around on its own?"

"Yes, in the last extremity."

"But how am I supposed to study it if I can't even get it out of its container without it doing things of its own volition?" Twilight asked. She seemed to catch herself. "’Of its own volition’... Is it alive? Can it-"

"Be communicated with?" Sunset guessed. "No, it's not sapient, and I'm not sure I'd even go far as to call it alive. It has… instincts, I suppose, which possibly makes it living, but it doesn't feel, it doesn't… it's not an animal."

"But how is Twilight supposed to study it?" asked Spike.

"It can't be communicated with, but it does possess understanding," Sunset said. "At the moment, it's acting out because it's been cooped up, but once you let it out and start to do things with it, even if those things are just tests, then it will sense that and calm down."

"And when all the tests are done?" Twilight asked.

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Get rid of it or keep it somewhere very secure."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "That isn't exactly incredibly helpful."

"Sorry," Sunset murmured. "I just… to tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure what you want from me, Twilight."

Twilight sighed. "Neither am I. I suppose I was hoping for a reassurance that it wouldn't happen again, but I suppose that was too much to hope for."

"If it makes you feel better, it's not that powerful," Sunset said. "I didn't give you that much magic. It might be enough to make Spike talk, but nothing drastic."

"You don't think a talking dog is pretty drastic?"

Sunset shrugged. "He's only a small dog."

"Hey!" Spike protested. "Still, I guess if the magic does get out again, maybe it'll do more good things, like it did for me."

Twilight scratched behind his ears. "Maybe, Spike, but – no offence – I'd prefer it if this didn't happen again. And I think Rainbow would prefer that too. Will locking it away help?"

"It might do," Sunset said. "It's worth a try. I… I'm sorry that I can't be of more help."

"It's fine; it was a long shot. You gave this to me, and if I'm not taking proper care and precaution, that's my fault not yours. And what did I expect you to do, teleport onto the ship and fix everything?"

Sunset smiled. "You're a little far away from me right now."

Twilight smiled back. "So, how's Ruby doing?"

"Oh, you know," Sunset murmured. "The same as-"

"Sunset!" Jaune's voice, raised in a frantic cry, interrupted Sunset before she could say any more.

Still holding up her scroll, Sunset turned around to see Jaune standing at the door leading down off the rooftop.

"Come on!" Jaune urged. "Ruby's awake!"

A beam as bright as sunlight spread across Sunset's face. Her ears pricked up, and the weariness of just a moment ago seemed banished as the darkness is banished by the light that Jaune's words spread all around them. Ruby was awake. Ruby was okay, Ruby was back, the worry and the uncertainty and the ordeal were over, Ruby was awake!

Sunset looked back at Twilight, her mouth opening.

"Go!" Twilight said, grinning brightly. "And give her our love."

"I will," Sunset promised. "Speak to you later. Bye." She hung up hastily and thrust her scroll into her jacket pocket as she started to walk – so rapidly that she was almost running – towards Jaune.

And towards Ruby.

Ruby felt Zwei's tongue upon her cheek before she opened up her eyes on the unfamiliar ceiling above her.

She caught a sight of grey and black fur to the side of her as she blinked against the light shining down into her face. She half-closed her eyes as she started to sit up.

"Ruby?”

The voice belonged to Pyrrha, who was standing not far from her side in what Ruby could now see was a hospital room. Hers was the only bed occupied in the ward; Yang, Ruby noticed, sat by her bedside, asleep, her head resting on Ruby's bed and her face obscured by her long golden hair. Jaune stood on the other side of the room, and his attention must have been elsewhere because it seemed as though it was Pyrrha’s voice that drew his eyes in Ruby’s direction.

A smile spread across his face. “Ruby!” he cried. “You’re awake!”

Zwei yelped happily, even as Ruby pulled him away from her face, an act for which she compensated by starting to give him a belly rub.

"Hey, Jaune," Ruby said, with a smile. She spoke softly, so as not to wake Yang. “Hey-” Memories flood back to her as her gaze turned from Jaune to Pyrrha: the tunnel, the grimm, a desperate situation, a feeling of hopelessness, a bright light and then nothing at all.

“Pyrrha!” she shouted, relief making her voice riser higher than she had intended. “You’re okay!”

Pyrrha smiled, and her tone remained soft and gentle as she reached out and took one of Ruby’s small, pale hands with both of hers. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I’m alright, thanks to you.”

“I’m so glad,” Ruby said, lowering her voice for Yang’s benefit. “The last thing I remember…” She looked from Pyrrha to Jaune and then back again. “Is Sunset okay? Did she-?”

“Sunset’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “Physically, at least. She had to take a call from Twilight, but she’ll be right down. I’ll go and tell her that you’ve woken up.” He walked to the door into and out of the room, sliding it open with a juddering sound of the rollers. He half-stepped through the now open doorway, and then paused, looking back at her. “I’m really glad to see you’re okay.”

A smile blossomed across Ruby’s face, watered by the happy news that all of her teammates were safe. In a slightly reproachful tone, she said, "You say that like it's such a surprise."

Jaune frowned. "Ruby... you've been asleep for over a week; nobody was sure when you'd wake up or... or if you'd wake up."

The smile faltered upon Ruby’s face. “But I… what happened down there?”

“Jaune, why don’t you go and get Sunset?” Pyrrha suggested. “You know she’ll be upset if she finds that we didn’t tell her at once that Ruby had woken up.”

“Right,” Jaune nodded. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

He closed the door after him, muffling the sounds of his rapid footsteps as he went in search of Sunset.

Ruby turned her attention wholly to Pyrrha. “This isn’t going to be one of those things where you act all weird and cryptic and don’t tell me what’s going on, is it?”

Pyrrha’s smile was a little tight. “No,” she declared. “No, I’m going to tell you everything; I just didn’t want to keep Sunset in ignorance while we did it. Ruby, what do you remember? The last thing?”

Ruby blinked. “I remember you. That grimm had caught you in its bone whip thingy, and it had caught Sunset too, and Jaune and Blake and everyone were trying to get you free, and they weren’t doing anything, and… I was worried that I was going to lose you. Lose both of you. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want that, and I… and that’s about all I remember.”

Pyrrha glanced down at Ruby’s hand, still held in her own. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I see,” she said softly. “Ruby… you used your silver eyes down there in the tunnel.”

Said silver eyes widened in astonishment. “Really?”

Pyrrha nodded. “The light was… blinding, and when it cleared, we could all see that you had turned the grimm to stone. Sunset destroyed it with magic after that. You did it, Ruby; you’ve unlocked the power within you.”

“But how?” Ruby asked. “I mean, mom’s journal said that Silver Eyes were controlled by positive emotions, right? But all I felt down there in the tunnel was fear, so how… how?”

“Perhaps because you only feared to lose us both because you care for us?” Pyrrha suggested. “For which I am touched and very grateful.”

Ruby brushed that compliment off. “That sounds like cheating to call that a positive emotion.”

“If so, then I, for one, am very glad you cheated,” Pyrrha replied. “I owe you my life, Ruby.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said earnestly. “I do. That grimm… I wouldn’t have escaped its clutches without you and your silver eyes; I don’t think any of us would have been able to withstand that grimm but you. As I say, I owe you my life, and for that reason, I owe you a great debt besides, one which-”

“Pyrrha, stop,” Ruby urged. “You don’t owe me a debt; you don’t owe me anything. You’re my teammate, and my friend, and that means that I’ll always look out for you, just like you’ll always look out for me. You don’t owe me anything.” She grinned. “I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Pyrrha managed to muster a slight smile. “Nevertheless, I feel indebted to you. I’m not used to needing rescue.”

“Some grimm are really tough,” Ruby said. “You know that. Some grimm are born – or made, whatever – that way, and some get that way when they get old and smart. Some grimm give even a trained huntsman problems.”

Pyrrha nodded at that. “I think that, out of all of us, not counting your magic, only Penny’s laser cannon would have been sufficient to defeat that grimm, and Penny was not with us.”

“How is Penny?” Ruby asked. “Is she okay?”

“She is no better than when last you saw her,” Pyrrha said with a sigh. “Team Rosepetal have returned – or are returning – to Atlas with her, where she can be repaired. Blake went with them, and Rainbow Dash’s friends who were held captive in Mountain Glenn.”

“Right,” Ruby murmured. “I’m sure she’ll get be- I’m sure she’ll be fixed soon, but I wish I could have said goodbye.”

Pyrrha squeezed her hand once more. “Sunset and I visited her on your behalf and said our goodbyes for you, as they said theirs to you to us to pass along.”

Before Ruby could ask anything else, she heard the sound of footsteps moving rapidly, and kind of heavily, along the corridor outside. The door was flung back on its rollers with a crack, and Sunset Shimmer stood in the doorway, her chest rising and falling with her breath, her ears perked up, her tail twitching.

Her eyes were sharp and fixed on Ruby.

“Hey, Sunset,” Ruby offered, waving her free hand. “I’m awake.”

Sunset stared at Ruby in silence for a moment, then for a moment more. At last, she said, “I’m sorry about this, Pyrrha.”

“Sorry about what?” Pyrrha asked, before Sunset’s hand glowed green, and Pyrrha’s chair was telekinetically yanked backwards, scraping across the linoleum floor and tearing Pyrrha’s hands away from Ruby as Sunset cleared a path for herself to stride around the bed. For a moment, she stood over Ruby, casting a shadow over the younger, smaller girl, then she grabbed Ruby and pulled her into a wrenching hug, her head pressed against Sunset’s chest as she, Sunset, sat down on the edge of Ruby’s bed.

“Never do that again,” Sunset demanded. “Okay? Don’t do that again.”

“Save your life?” Ruby asked, her voice slightly muffled by the way that Sunset’s arm was in her mouth.

“Ha ha ha, smartass,” Sunset muttered. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Ruby murmured. “I really don’t.”

Yang moved. The way that her face and head were hidden beneath her great mass of golden hair made that movement seem like the stirring of some terrible creature, an unseen horror that lurked beneath the surface, with only the disturbance of the ground to give it away.

The creature shifted, making the golden blanket that obscured it rustle and ripple before Yang emerged, blinking, from beneath the mass of her own hair. “What is all of this- Ruby!” She shot to her feet. “How long have you been awake?”

“Just a few minutes,” Ruby said, through Sunset’s stifling embrace.

“A few minutes!” Yang yelled, shoving Sunset hard enough to send her staggering away, her grip on Ruby gone. Her eyes flashed red. “Ruby’s been up for a few minutes, and you all just let me sleep? Bunch of… seriously?”

Now it was her turn to grab Ruby and pull her into a binding hug, tugging her first this way and then the other as Yang swayed in place.

“Don’t do that again,” Yang urged.

“People keep saying that, but I don’t get it,” Ruby said.

“Don’t get it?” Yang repeated. “Did one of you tell her how long she’s been out for?”

“I did,” Jaune said.

“You’ve been asleep for a week, and you don’t get it?” Yang demanded.

“I saved Pyrrha,” Ruby pointed out. “And Sunset.”

“And that’s good,” Yang conceded. “But couldn’t you have saved them in a way that didn’t nearly give me a heart attack? I didn’t know if you were going to wake up; nobody knew for sure if you would wake up. When you started reading about your silver eyes in Mom’s journal… Mom never said anything about putting herself in a coma!”

“Well, we don’t know what happened when Mom started out,” Ruby said. “She was already using her eyes when she came to Beacon. Maybe I need to start using it more often.”

“That’s a fine theory,” Sunset said. “But, considering that the only way we’ve found to get your eyes to work is to expose you to an otherwise unbeatable grimm and almost die in the process… I hope you can understand a degree of reluctance.”

“Mom said that they could be activated-”

“By positive emotions,” Sunset interrupted. “What did you feel down there in that tunnel?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “Scared,” she admitted. “Scared of losing you.”

“I suggested that perhaps that fear, since it was driven by concern for us, was in itself a manifestation of love and friendship,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like cheating to me.”

“That’s what I said,” Ruby added. “But why would Mom lie in her own diary?”

“Maybe she wanted to mislead her enemies,” Sunset suggested. “Maybe she was misled.”

“What about Professor Ozpin?” Jaune said. “He taught Ruby’s mom, right? Maybe he knows something that can help Ruby.”

Sunset folded her arms. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Ruby said. “He promised to talk to me about my Mom once we got back.”

“I like that even less,” Sunset muttered.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully, getting to her feet and placing one gloved hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “Your insistence on distrusting Professor Ozpin, I know that you mean well by it, we all know that you mean well and that you think that you’re looking out for our best interests-”

“I am looking out for your best interests!”

“Professor Ozpin is not only the headmaster of Beacon but also-” Pyrrha stopped, glancing at Yang.

Unfortunately, Yang had noticed it too, “Professor Ozpin is also what?”

Ruby swallowed. Professor Ozpin had instructed her not to tell Yang about any of this, but now that Pyrrha had let slip, what were they supposed to do? It was one thing not to tell Yang something; it was something to outright lie to her face.

“Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said, gently shrugging off Pyrrha’s hand, “is not only our headmaster, but also the reason we were down in that tunnel in the first place.”

“We volunteered for that,” Jaune reminded her.

“As Rainbow put it to me: we’re kids, we’re allowed to make dumb decisions,” Sunset declared. “The adults in the room are supposed to know better.”

“What was Professor Ozpin supposed to do?” Ruby demanded. “Tell us that we were too young? That we weren’t ready? We’d been on real missions before, without supervision-”

“I didn’t really understand that either,” Yang muttered.

Ruby ignored her, continuing, “Our enemies aren’t going to wait until we graduate-”

“What enemies?” Yang demanded. “Is this about the White Fang? Why do you have to be the ones to take them out?”

“An excellent question, Yang,” Sunset said. “Graduated huntsmen, Atlesian specialists-”

“You know why we were chosen for this assignment,” Pyrrha said.

“I DON’T!” Yang shrieked, as smoke started to rise from out of her hair. “Will you please stop talking around the issue and explain to me just what the hell is going on?”

Silence fell in the room. Ruby found that she couldn’t look at her sister, much less meet her eyes. She looked away, looking at Pyrrha, who seemed to be similarly uncomfortable.

“We should tell her,” Jaune said. “We told Blake. You told us.”

“Tell me what?” Yang asked.

“I’m not supposed to tell,” Ruby murmured.

Jaune looked at her. “Ruby?”

“I… I was going to tell you before we left for Mountain Glenn,” Ruby explained. “But Professor Ozpin found me first and asked me not to.”

She still didn’t look at Yang. She didn’t dare look at Yang. Her sister’s voice, when it came, was quiet and small, “So… so that’s it? Professor Ozpin asked you not to tell me, so you’re not going to tell me.”

“Yang-”

“I’m your sister!” Yang cried. “I’m your sister, and I didn’t know-”

“I’m training to be a huntress, Yang; we all are,” Ruby said. “There’s always a chance that we might not come back, like Mom-”

“Don’t bring Mom into this; you’re not Mom!” Yang yelled. “Mom had already graduated; you’re fifteen years old and a first-year student and LOOK AT ME!”

Ruby looked, her head snapping round. Yang’s eyes were deep crimson, but there were tears in them at the same time.

Yang’s breath was ragged, coming in sobs as her chest rose and fell. “You… you don’t remember what it was like losing Mom,” she said. “You were too young, you didn’t understand what was happening then, and all that you understand now is that Mom died a hero, fighting the good fight.”

“Because she did.”

“That didn’t make me feel any better!” Yang snapped. “Knowing that she died a hero couldn’t tuck me in at night or read me a bedtime story! You were too young to realise… you don’t remember how hurt Dad was by losing Mom. How hurt I was.”

She bowed her head, her bangs casting a shadow over her face and obscuring her eyes from view. “I know that this is dangerous. I know that, even as students, we’re not safe. And I know that this is what you want to be, and so I keep how I feel to myself, and I don’t let it show, but… you’re a first-year, but you’re already involved in real huntsman stuff, and I don’t know why, and now you won’t even tell me.”

“I can’t,” Ruby said plaintively, though it sounded inadequate even to her.

“Why not?” Yang demanded. “Why can’t… you know what, it doesn’t matter. If you can’t tell me, you can’t tell me. I wouldn’t want you to disappoint Professor Ozpin. I’ll get out of your hair, and you can talk without worrying about what I might hear that I’m not supposed to.”

“Yang-” Ruby began, but it was too late; Yang had already strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that there was a cracking sound like something breaking.

“I’ll take care of this,” Sunset said, striding towards the door. It seemed a little stiffer when she tried to open it, but nevertheless, she was able to force it open, then close it again more gently than Yang had once she was on the other side.

“Yang!” Sunset called, her voice muffled by the door and wall. “Yang, wait!”

Ruby bowed her head, a picture of misery spreading across her face. Yang… did Yang really-?

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," Pyrrha said, her voice gentle and urgent at the same time. "Her anger gives her words a barb that she did not intend."

Ruby didn't look up. "How can you be so sure?"

Pyrrha's boots tapped lightly on the floor. "Because, although I do not know your sister too well, I have had occasion enough to observe her behaviour around you," she said. "And it has not been the conduct of someone who has nought but misgivings that they are hiding well. I do not say that there is no truth in what Yang said, but it is not the whole of the truth, and only her being upset makes it seem otherwise."

"I'm sure she worries about you," Jaune added. "She'd hardly be your sister if she didn't." He had spoken lightly, with a laugh sounding on the verge of entering his voice, but he quieted for a moment, before he went on, "But it doesn't mean that… Yang knows how good you are."

"Yang knows your quality as we all do," Pyrrha said.

With her head bowed, Ruby felt rather than saw Pyrrha sit down on the edge of the bed and place one arm around Ruby's shoulders. Her embrace was a good deal less fierce than Yang's or Sunset's had been; she gave it with but one arm and with a lightness of touch that would have made it easy for Ruby to shrug off if she wished.

Ruby did not wish to do so. Rather, though she did not look at Pyrrha still, she leaned in and rested her head upon Pyrrha's side; although the hardness of her cuirass meant that it was not the most pleasant thing to rest a head on, being able to rest it upon anything was comfort enough.

"Although," Pyrrha added, "like us, Yang may be… it is one thing to be ready to die, Ruby, but there are times you seem to yearn for it. If there is one thing of your sister's words I beg you to remember, it is the hurt that your father and sister suffered from your mother's passing and how hurt we would be by yours."

That wasn't something that Ruby particularly wanted to discuss. It had become clear to her some time ago that none of her friends really understood where she was coming from on this, and while they weren't exactly wrong about her – what did her life really matter? Just one life, easily replaced, easily given in service to a greater whole – they weren't exactly right either.

But she didn't want to argue. So she changed the subject, asking, "So… what did I miss while I was asleep? You're all here, and you mentioned that Team Rosepetal went back to Atlas, so I guess we're still in Vale, right? That means we won, doesn't it?"

The uncomfortable silence from Pyrrha and Jaune told her without words that it was not quite as simple as that.

"We won," Pyrrha confirmed. "But I'm afraid the victory was not without cost."

“Yang!” Sunset called, her footsteps thudding as she ran to catch up with Ruby’s stomping sister. “Yang, wait!” She reached out and grabbed Yang’s arm by the wrist.

Yang rounded on her, eyes red as blood.

Sunset stood her ground. “I’ve seen scarier things than your party-trick recently,” she said.

Yang glared at her for a moment. “You should be with Ruby,” she growled, turning away once more.

Sunset’s grip on Yang’s arm once more, “Well, I’m making time for you, buddy,” she said pointedly, hoping that Yang would remember.

Yang looked at her, her eyes lilac once more. She exhaled out of her nostrils like an angry bull. “Fine,” she muttered. “What do you want to say?”

“Not here,” Sunset said softly. “Let’s go somewhere more private, let’s go… there!” She pointed to a doorway, a doorway which led – as she found out as she hustled Yang inside – into a supply closet, with shelves of toilet roll and disinfectant and large sachets of soap for the dispensers all piled up in shelves climbing the walls.

It was cramped, and once Sunset shut the door behind her, it was also dark until her fumbling fingers found the light switch. But it was quiet, and it was isolated, and they weren’t likely to be disturbed… by anyone except a janitor, anyway.

Sunset hoped to be done by then.

Yang had gone in first, or rather, Sunset had left her little choice but to go in first, and so, Sunset was closer to the door, blocking Yang’s way if she wished to leave.

Yang leaned one elbow upon a wire shelf. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“I want to tell you what’s really going on; you’re welcome,” Sunset said.

Yang frowned. “But Professor Ozpin-”

“Can bite my tail,” Sunset said.

Yang hesitated for a moment. “Why?” she asked.

“Why what?”

“Why are you telling me this, when my own sister won’t?”

“Because Ruby thinks too much of her duty and too little of her self,” Sunset replied. “She and Pyrrha both have a touch of that, but Ruby has it worse. I should probably push back on it more than I do, but that’s how you get the reputation of being a bad influence. So I indulge it and try to mitigate the worst effects as best I can.”

“You make it sound like such a bad thing,” Yang said, “to be devoted to duty.”

“It is, when carried to excess,” Sunset said. “And if you don’t think so, why are you so upset?”

“I’m upset because…” Yang’s mouth worked without words for a moment. She gestured at Sunset. “What makes you more trustworthy than me? What makes you deserve to know some big secret and not me? What makes you fit to go on dangerous huntsman missions and not me?”

“You sound jealous.”

“No, I’m not jealous,” Yang snapped. “I’m… okay, I am a little jealous; why you of all people? Why does it feel as though everyone trusts you, depends on you; why does it feel like you’re at the centre of everything?”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “Is that how…? It doesn’t feel that way to me.”

“You should try and see yourself from the outside,” Yang replied. “But that’s kind of by the by; it’s not why I’m upset.”

“Because you’re not half as jealous of me as you are of Ruby,” Sunset guessed. “And that jealousy is warring with your affection and getting all tangled up with it, and your worry about Ruby can’t be entangled with you wondering why she gets all of this special treatment and you don’t.”

Yang was silent for a moment. “Both our mothers were trusted by Ozpin,” she said softly. “That seems pretty clear from Mom’s diary. Maybe Mom – maybe Summer Rose got special lessons from the headmaster, but it seems like he trusted both of them, trusted the whole team. He used the whole team.”

“That’s my understanding as well,” Sunset murmured. “I bet if you read on in the diary, you’d find confirmation of that. As well as… other things.”

“My mother left,” Yang growled. “Raven… she took off. She took off when I was so young that I don’t even remember her. I didn’t find out that my Mom wasn’t my mother until she was… my mother left, so I’m shut out, while Ruby’s mother died a hero, and she gets to follow in her footsteps. How is that fair?”

“I think that the mother of both of you died a hero,” Sunset said quietly.

“You know what I mean,” Yang said.

“Yes, I do,” Sunset acknowledged. “I don’t know what Professor Ozpin is thinking, exactly. I don’t know if it’s anything personal; maybe he just likes my team better than yours, maybe it’s Ren and Nora’s fault.” She grinned, but that grin faded when Yang – judging by the sour expression on her face – failed to see the funny side. “And on top of all of that, you’re worried about her.”

“I meant what I said in there,” Yang murmured. “About Mom. Ruby was too young, she didn’t understand; Ruby doesn’t have any real memories of her mother, just… just an idealised image to look up to: fearless Summer Rose, champion of justice, defender of the innocent.”

“And how much of that was your creation?” Sunset asked.

“I know, I know,” Yang huffed. “But for the record, Mom really was amazing. I know that; I just… I don’t have a lot of, well, facts about it. Dad and Uncle Qrow don’t like to talk about her, so I-”

“Made things up.”

“It’s not lying if you do it for a good cause,” Yang said. “Is it?”

“I hope not,” Sunset muttered. Though I fear it is.

Yang turned away, putting both her hands upon the wire shelf. “I… I know that there are risks. And I know that this is what Ruby has always wanted to be ever since she was a kid. And I can reconcile that. I can. I’m not… I don’t want her to quit, I’m not an idiot, I know that there might come a day when we put up a stone for her alongside Mom’s memorial, but… fifteen. Is it wrong of me to want her to reach twenty before she dies?”

“No,” Sunset declared. “No, it isn’t wrong at all.” She paused. “You’re not the only one who worries about Ruby.”

Yang glanced at her. “When I dragged you into the classroom and told you to shape up, I didn’t think you’d start to care that much.”

“You should know the effect that she can have on people,” Sunset replied.

Yang snorted. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

“Ruby’s life…” Sunset said. “Ruby’s life means more to me than… more than honour, more than glory, certainly more than my own life.” She thrust her hands into her pockets. “Ruby’s life means more to me than kingdoms,” she confessed. “I swear to you, Yang, I won’t let any harm come to her.”

Yang smiled out of the corner of her mouth. “Don’t make a girl a promise if you know you can’t keep it,” she whispered.

“Very well then, all that is within my power,” Sunset said. She scuffed her foot back and forth, and her tail moved back and forth too in unison with her boot. “Listen, Yang… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For taking the mission to Mountain Glenn,” Sunset said. “I… I was cocky, and I was full of our skill and strength, and I wasn’t ready for what we’d find down there. I wish I could promise that it won’t happen again, but… I fear we may be past the point of no return.”

“Why?” Yang asked. “What… what have you gotten yourselves into?”

“There were worse dangers threatening Vale than the White Fang last semester,” Sunset said. In spite of the environment, in spite of the fact that they were alone, Sunset found her voice dropping. “The grimm have a leader, named Salem. She is… terrifying.”

“'Salem'?” Yang said. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“Professor Ozpin is keeping it that way,” Sunset said. “He and his predecessors have kept her existence a secret for generations.”

“'Predecessors'?” Yang repeated. “You mean the headmasters?”

“They’re part of it, but it’s bigger and older than them,” Sunset explained. “There is… a conspiracy, a group of powerful people who work in the shadows-”

“And secretly rule it?” Yang guessed. “Come on, Sunset, this is cheap conspiracy thriller stuff.”

“Except that it’s true,” Sunset insisted. “Professor Ozpin is the current head of a group that opposes Salem, a group that includes at least General Ironwood and-”

“Professor Goodwitch?” Yang suggested.

“How did you-?”

“Lucky guess,” Yang muttered. “Oppose Salem how? And what do you mean, control the grimm, and if this has been going on for so long, how come nobody has-?”

“She can’t be destroyed, apparently,” Sunset said. And considering what she did to us, I’d be surprised if anyone can get close enough to try. “I don’t know how she controls the grimm, or even if she does ‘control’ them, or she can just give them commands. I don’t understand how it works. If Professor Ozpin knows, he hasn’t told us. What I know is that she is the black king, and all the grimm – and Cinder, and the White Fang, all of the enemies we face – are just her playing pieces.”

“Why?” Yang demanded. “What does she want?”

Sunset shrugged. “To kill us all? Does it matter?”

“And Professor Ozpin told you this?”

Sunset nodded. “He told me, Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight.”

“And you believe him? You believe that this is someone out there commanding the grimm?”

“I’ve met her,” Sunset said quietly.

Yang’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“Under Mountain Glenn,” Sunset explained. “She… she appeared to us. She wasn’t there, exactly; she was using some kind of grimm I’d never seen before to show herself. She… she spoke to us. She showed us visions.”

“How?” Yang asked. “What did she talk about?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“But-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it!” Sunset snapped. She didn’t even want to think about it; she didn’t want to think about what had been said, about what had been seen… about what those visions had made her do.

Yang frowned for a moment. “Why…? Okay, I’ll believe you, if only because it would be weird for you to lie to me when you could just not tell me anything, but… why? Why is Professor Ozpin keeping this a secret?”

“Because he fears what people would do if they found out,” Sunset said.

“People like me, you mean?” Yang asked. “People like Raven?”

“I think your second guess was right; he trusted her once,” Sunset murmured.

Yang nodded absently. “So… okay. The grimm have a leader. The grimm have a leader who can’t be killed. So… isn’t that just another day? It’s just the same fight. Other than the fact that you know this, what does it mean for the four of you?”

“It means that we go on missions like the one to Mountain Glenn,” Sunset pointed out. “Because Cinder was there, one of Salem’s agents, that made it… more than just another mission.”

“Sure, I can roll with that,” Yang said. “But that just shifts the question back from 'why assign you to this mission' to 'why bring you into his secrets?' Why first year students, and not professional huntsmen? You said General Ironwood knows; why not his soldiers?”

“Team Rosepetal also know,” Sunset said.

Yang’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Does Blake know?”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “Please don’t be upset with her.”

Yang shook her head. “Blake doesn’t owe me the truth. Neither do you, for that matter.”

“I’m not telling you all this for your enlightenment,” Sunset replied.

“No, I know why you’re telling me, but I’m glad all the same,” Yang said. “And you think… but that would mean that Dad knows too, and Uncle Qrow!”

“That would be at least one professional huntsman who knows, at least,” Sunset muttered.

“None of them said anything,” Yang growled. “Not a damn word, from either of them!”

“Is that so surprising?”

“It’s kind of annoying none of my own family would tell me this and I had to hear it from you,” Yang said, her voice rising. “No offence.”

Sunset smirked. “None taken.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, though,” Yang said. “Why first year students?”

“You’d have to ask Professor Ozpin that,” Sunset said. “Except don’t, because then he’d know that you know.”

“You can’t really expect me to sit on this.”

“I’d rather that you did, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the only person who would tell you this, so if you storm up to Professor Ozpin’s office, it won’t be hard for him to work out where you heard it from,” Sunset declared.

“So?” Yang demanded. “You’ll tell anyone who’ll listen how much you don’t like Professor Ozpin.”

“Because I have to be on the inside!” Sunset cried. “Do you know why I agreed to become a part of Professor Ozpin’s group? It’s not because I like him, it’s not because I trust him; it’s because I don’t trust him. It’s because I couldn’t be sure that if I said ‘thanks but no thanks, Professor, I don’t have the experience to handle this,’ he wouldn’t nod and accept it and then turn to Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune and ask them anyway, and you know-”

“That Ruby would have jumped at the chance,” Yang murmured.

Sunset sighed. “Yang… I would like nothing more than to be able to tell you that we’re done. That after this, I have learned better, seen my limitations, that we won’t take a mission like this again. But we’re involved now, for better or worse, and the missions aren’t going to stop. If I’m on the inside, I can protect Ruby and the others in ways that I can’t if I get frozen out. Maybe… maybe if I’m not with them, then next time…”

Now it was Yang’s turn to sigh. She turned her back on Sunset, her golden hair falling down behind her and covering her back as she placed her hands against the rear wall of the closet. “So Ruby… Ruby really is following in Mom’s footsteps.”

“It won’t end the same way,” Sunset said, in a voice as hard as steel. “I guarantee it.”

“You can’t-”

“Yes,” Sunset insisted. “I can. I promise that this story will have a happier ending.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m not your mother; I’m not going to run,” Sunset said, her voice rising.

She was surprised at herself for how easy it was to say those words. So easy that she hadn’t even really meant to say them; they’d just come galloping out of her mouth. And yet, now that she had said it, she did not regret saying it, she had no wish to take it back, she could not tell herself that the words were in any way false. She had been considering her position, or at least, she thought that she had been considering her position. She thought that she’d been contemplating leaving them all behind, leaving Beacon, going… somewhere indeterminate that she hadn’t made her mind up about yet. She’d thought that she had been giving serious contemplation to the idea that she didn’t belong here, with them, anymore.

And yet, in a moment, in words spoken upon instinct, all of that was revealed to be false, bordering on delusional. Of course she wasn’t going to go. Of course she wasn’t going to be the member of Team SAPR that bailed, a latter day Raven Branwen, leaving her purer-hearted comrades to fend for themselves against the malice of Salem and the savagery of her servants.

That was not Sunset Shimmer. She was a lot of things, and not all of them were good, but one thing that she wasn’t was a quitter.

Well, there was the time I ran away from Equestria, I suppose, but only because I wouldn’t give up on my destiny.

I may not be a huntress, I may not deserve to be at Beacon, I may not deserve these friends, but… but I think they need me, as strange as it may sound. Maybe Summer Rose wouldn’t have done whatever it was that got her killed if Raven had stuck around to remind her to think of herself every once in a while.

Regardless of whether they deserve me, or need me, they’re stuck with me. I’m with them for… for as long as it takes. For forever, if need be.

I’m with them until they’re safe. I won’t leave.

“I won’t pretend that there isn’t danger in this,” Sunset continued. “And I won’t pretend that you’re wrong to be concerned. And I won’t patronise you by blustering about our skill in combat or our semblances, because you’re too smart for that. But as much as I don’t trust him, I do believe that we were chosen for a reason. We may not approve, but I don’t think that he chooses lightly whom he admits into his confidence. We have something, and it’s not just Ruby’s heroic heart, or Pyrrha’s; it’s not my semblance or Jaune’s; it’s… it’s the four of us. Together, the four of us have got something, a spark, if you will. I don’t know if we can save the world, and I don’t know if I’ll always enjoy the experience of these assignments while I’m doing them, but I think that we can make it home safe, if… if anyone can.”

Yang looked over her shoulder. “But you said-”

“I didn’t say I’d necessarily want to do it,” Sunset reminded her. “But I think we can. And I think we’ll survive. No, I know we’ll survive.” She smiled. “Trust me. Ruby’s in safe hands with us. And we’re in safe hands with her.”

Yang smiled as she turned around. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift,” Sunset said casually. “Do you feel better now?”

“Strangely, yes,” Yang admitted.

“Good,” Sunset said. “Do you want to go back in, maybe make things right with Ruby?”

“Not right now,” Yang said.

“She’s upset,” Sunset said.

“And I have stuff to think about,” Yang said. “I will make it up to her, but… I need time to think. You get that, right?”

“I suppose so,” Sunset conceded. “Just so long as you don’t-”

“I don’t, I get it,” Yang said. “Hey, Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“Ruby’s lucky to have you,” Yang said.

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, right,” she said. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Apart from Ruby waking up, a lot is different in this chapter. The fact that Rainbow and Sunset's conversation in the janitorial closet got cut from earlier chapters meant that that was where Yang and Sunset talk, as I like the idea of them hiding in there.

Sunset telling Yang about Salem et al calls back all the way to the beginning of the story, when Yang was the one who helped Sunset with some of her issues. The two don't interact very often, despite or perhaps because of their relations with Ruby, so it was nice to give them a little moment together.

Balance (New)

Balance

Ruby’s hands clutched at the hospital blanket in front of her. “Six people… died?”

Yeah, that was about how I thought you’d take it, Sunset thought. And she couldn’t even say anything about it, because it was her fault.

“Yes,” Pyrrha acknowledged, from where she still sat on the edge of Ruby’s bed, “but many more did not.”

Ruby looked at her. “And that makes it okay?”

“That’s not what she said,” Jaune pointed out. “Of course that’s not what Pyrrha means; what Pyrrha means is that… we can’t let that tragedy drive out all the good.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, six people died, but the city was saved; the kingdom was saved, and only six people perished, despite the circumstances and the ferocity of a battle fought in the midst of Vale. That is… not a thing to be ashamed of.”

“But we’re huntresses!” Ruby insisted. “We’re supposed to protect everyone!”

“You’re not that naïve, Ruby, and we all know you’re not,” Sunset said, this answer coming far easier than it should. “We did the best we could, and so did Team Iron, Bluebell, Wisteria, Tsunami; the Atlesian troops; everyone who fought to lock down the Breach did the best that they could. Yes, we didn’t save everyone, but I think we did a pretty damn good job, all things considered.”

“There are things that happened down in Mountain Glenn for which we might reproach ourselves,” Pyrrha murmured. “My failure to best Cinder being one, Sunset’s departure from the rest of the team being another.” Her vivid green eyes glanced pointedly at Sunset as she said that. “Things for which to reproach ourselves, yes, but I do not believe that our performance once the battle was joined at the Breach is one of them.”

Ruby frowned. “So… that’s it? We just have to accept it?”

“Do you think there is something that we could have done differently?” Sunset asked. “Something that we could have done better? I’m genuinely asking you, by the way; this isn’t a trick or a rhetorical question to get you to realise that I’m right; if you genuinely believe that there is something we missed down there, then let’s hear it. I promise that I’ll take it on board for next time.” She glanced at Jaune and Pyrrha. “That goes for either of you as well.”

Ruby was silent, her brow furrowed, her expression a little vacant as though she was lost in concentration. Instead, it was Jaune who spoke first, saying, “Instead of having Pyrrha use the train to block the tunnel, could you have collapsed it behind us with your magic?”

“I doubt it,” Sunset replied. “That tunnel survived for years with no maintenance; it was clearly pretty sturdily built. And we’re talking about a lot of rock and concrete – deep enough to fill up the tunnel, thick enough that the grimm couldn’t just burrow their way through it – I don’t have that kind of power.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jaune muttered, “but I figured it was worth asking.”

“Could we have joined forces with the White Fang to fight the grimm?” Pyrrha suggested. “Perhaps together-”

“They were trying to kill us until after the train had stopped,” Sunset pointed out. “They didn’t exactly seem receptive to overtures of cooperation.” She glanced away. Her tail flicked back and forth from side to side. “But we could have tried. It’s something to bear in mind if we ever find ourselves in a situation like that again: just because someone is our enemy doesn’t mean we can’t cooperate in service of a larger goal.”

“I…” Ruby began, and then trailed off immediately afterwards and said no more.

“Ruby?” Sunset asked.

Ruby shook her head. “You won’t want to hear it.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Because…” Ruby hesitated once again, but then she swallowed and seemed to resolve to press ahead regardless, “because if even some of us had stayed down the tunnel to hold the grimm off-”

It was all Sunset could do not to roll her eyes. “Celestia in the sunlight, Ruby! You’re talking about a last stand!”

“Only one person had to carry the warning about the grimm back to General Ironwood,” Ruby responded, “and any delay in the grimm getting down the tunnel would have given the Atlesians more time to redeploy to meet the grimm instead of the White Fang.”

“And everyone who stayed behind would be dead,” Sunset declared flatly. “Ruby… I will… I’m not sure that I will ever be able to understand you. You… you used your magic to save Pyrrha and me, you saw that we were about to die, and you didn’t just shrug and accept that as the lot of a huntress, but now… and it’s not just now, either, it’s so often that you talk like…” She sighed and ran one hand through her fiery hair. “I have to be honest with you, Ruby, perhaps even brutally honest. The biggest reason your willingness to talk of throwing lives away so casually isn’t repellent is the fact that you don’t actually follow through with it when push comes to shove.”

“It’s not throwing lives away,” Ruby insisted. “It’s sacrifice.”

“What’s the difference?” Sunset demanded.

“One is pointless; the other is what we’re pledged to do!” Ruby declared. “The reason that grimm got loose into the city was time. It’s that simple. General Ironwood was expecting the White Fang, and so he’d set up a wide perimeter. Then he found the grimm were coming, so he tried to tighten his perimeter, but it was too late. He didn’t have time. Time we could have given him if we’d stood our ground and held off the horde. You know I’m right. You all know I’m right.”

Jaune and Pyrrha both looked intensely uncomfortable, neither of them able to look at Ruby nor at one another, but neither of them said anything to dispute her point. Jaune shuffled his feet awkwardly while Pyrrha clutched at her sash with her free hand.

“I don’t know that you’re right,” Sunset said, the words dropping from her mouth like lead weights, crashing to the ground. “I don’t even know that these two know that you’re right, only that they don’t have the… I don’t know what to call it, but they don’t want to take you on with this, especially when you just woke up. Well, if you’re going to wake up and start talking like that, then you can’t complain when you get talked back to: I don’t think that you’re right. I think that you might be right, in the sense that, with more time, General Ironwood could have established a tighter perimeter, but there’s no way that you can say for sure that it would have been so tight that that one single grimm wouldn’t have gotten through regardless. In the first place, Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have agreed to it-”

“How do you know?” Ruby asked.

“Because we’ve talked about it,” Sunset replied. “We’ve talked about… sacrifice, as you call it. Except it’s not what Rainbow herself would call sacrifice. She won’t tell me, and I won’t go behind her back to find out, but I think she lost someone. Someone who gave their life for pride or honour or because their dignity was too precious to be forsaken and too precarious to withstand the perceived shame of retreat. I think if you had proposed some last stand down in that tunnel, she would have told you no.”

Ruby’s lip twisted in distaste, bordering upon disgust. “So after all her talk, she’s willing to just abandon those she’s supposed to protect? She’s willing to back down from a fight?”

“Rainbow believes in living to fight another die, is that so wrong?” Sunset asked. “If you die fighting a hopeless battle, then who fights the next battle? And say… I don’t know, say that we agreed with you, to turn at bay and fight, say that Rainbow and Applejack got out, what then? Do you think that Yang would have waited there at the tunnel mouth when she got out? Don’t you think she would have gone in after you, and Ren and Nora with her, because her heart wouldn’t allow her to just stand by and let you die even if her head told her there was nothing she could do? What about protecting their lives?”

“Would you?” Ruby asked.

Sunset blinked. “Would I what?”

“Would you have turned at bay, if I’d suggested it at the time?” Ruby asked.

Sunset swallowed. “We can’t throw bodies at the grimm,” she said. “We won’t win by trading our lives for theirs; there are more of them than there are of us.”

“What about saving lives?”

“You don’t know that!” Sunset shouted.

She could accept that she had done the wrong thing, but what Ruby was talking about was… she could accept that throwing dust onto a fire as she had done, was wrong – she had put people in danger by her act – but what Ruby was talking about was the equivalent of the fireman refusing to retreat before an inferno because he with his one hose might slow down the blaze for a little bit before he was consumed by the flames. And that… that, she could not condone.

She bowed her head, if only for a moment. Her ears drooped. Her tail fell limp behind her. Once more, she ran her hand through her hair as she looked up.

“Ruby, I… there are times when you… I love you, but I don’t know how to explain to you that you should prize your own life dearly.”

Ruby’s voice, when it came, was soft and small. “And I don’t know how to explain to you that, as the protectors of the world, our lives aren’t worth as much as those whom we defend.”

Sunset exhaled lightly through her nostrils. “No, Ruby, you can’t explain that to me.” She hesitated. “All of that probably makes me sound very selfish to you,” she murmured. “I mourn Vale’s losses. I mourn Sky. When I go to sleep, I see their spirits all around me, clamouring to know why I let them down, why I let them die, why I failed them.” She closed her eyes. “‘I was a butcher, I was a carpenter, I was a waitress, I was a housewife, I was a clown. We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.’” She shuddered, her whole body trembling. “Those words echo in my mind over and over again, and yet…” She opened her eyes, to find Ruby staring at her still, those silver eyes gleaming so brightly. “There are times when I envy your courage, Ruby, and your steadfastness in sticking to your beliefs, but… but I cannot share them. I cannot think so little of our worth and the worth of our existences.”

“I…” Jaune began tentatively. “I’m not so sure that Professor Ozpin does either.”

Sunset and Ruby both looked at him – as did Pyrrha, come to that – but it was Ruby who asked, “What do you mean?”

“You and Sunset, who feel so differently about this,” Jaune pointed out. “It’s almost as though you’re at opposite ends of a scale, selflessness and… selfishness.”

I’m not completely selfish, Sunset thought. And for that matter, martyring yourself without thought for those left behind might, in itself, be said to be a form of extreme selfishness.

Although I suppose that if that is so, it would still put Ruby and I at opposite ends of a hypothetical scale.

And I suppose Jaune didn’t say which of us was which.

“But you’re partnered up,” Jaune went on.

“Pairings are random,” Ruby pointed out.

“Are they, though?” Jaune asked.

“Not always,” Pyrrha admitted. “I… I chose you for my partner,” she added, a flush of colour appearing at her cheeks. “But I’m not sure how Professor Ozpin could be influencing the selection process.”

“As simply as by placing students on the catapults so that certain students land closer to the partners he’d prefer for them,” Jaune suggested, “and he wouldn’t even need to be obvious about it, like a good magician isn’t obvious about which card they want you to take.”

“To what end?” Sunset asked.

“Balance,” Jaune replied. “You both pull each other towards… towards the middle. So maybe, instead of arguing, you should try and learn from one another. Let each other guide you.”

As happened surprisingly often, considering that he looked like he didn’t have a thought in his head half the time, Jaune had just said something rather wise. Sunset and Ruby, when these arguments flared up, had a habit of approaching them as all or nothing affairs. One of them was right, one of them was going to win the row – or else they would just drop it for a while and let it continue simmering beneath the surface of their interactions. Ruby… Sunset liked Ruby, but she didn’t inspire the same tact and courtesy in her that Pyrrha did, and unlike Pyrrha, Ruby wasn’t the sort to shy away from a serious disagreement out of concern for the other party’s feelings. As a result, although they didn’t row often, their disagreements had a tendency to flare up more often than Sunset’s did with Pyrrha.

But perhaps that was because they had been wrong in approaching them that way. Perhaps Jaune had a point. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more convinced Sunset was that Jaune had a very good point. Rainbow had told her that this team needed her, and Sunset had taken that for confirmation that she was at least somewhat in the right… even though she also knew that she was in the wrong in the specific wrong thing that she had done.

Ruby… Ruby had the heart of a true huntress… but the evidence suggested that true huntresses had a somewhat short life expectancy. Yang’s great hope for Ruby was that she would reach twenty years old and graduate before she died, at which point, presumably, all bets would be off. And yet, at the same time, as much as Ruby’s seeming desire to lay down her life for the greater good might cause angst and annoyance in those who would rather she lived on, yet it had to be conceded that there was something magnificent about her devotion to her ideals. She was a storybook hero made flesh: unfailingly righteous, implacable in the face of evil; her strength was as the strength of ten because her heart was pure, always looking for a battle to fight, a monster to slay. Someone who thought nothing of their own safety because their only heart’s desire was to save someone.

Someone who could love and laugh, but not be weakened by that love, not be moved by it, not put that love above the greater good of those who depended on them.

It was admirable, if not always warmly so; sometimes, it was best admired as a painting in an art gallery: academically, and with a degree of detachment. But still, there was much to admire and something to learn from.

Sunset was of a quite different sort, by far, but she fancied that perhaps Ruby could stand to learn something from her too about valuing yourself, about knowing your own worth, about knowing what you could do if you lived.

Sunset didn’t know that Professor Ozpin had arranged this on purpose, but she could conceive that fate had done so without the headmaster’s knowledge or consent. She had told Yang that she, Sunset, was not Raven, and perhaps if Raven hadn’t bailed on Summer Rose, then Summer would still be alive, either because she had an ally by her side in battle or because Raven had taught her to be less careless of her own safety.

Perhaps, if they had been willing to learn from one another, then much sadness in the family could have been avoided.

Or Ruby wouldn’t exist, but let’s not get bogged down in the details.

She had done wrong, and she could acknowledge that to herself – she wouldn’t dare acknowledge it to Ruby. She could do with someone to learn better from, someone to set a better example she could follow.

But she still believed that Ruby could use the same.

“I’m not sure about Professor Ozpin’s intent,” she murmured, “but you make a lot of sense regardless.”

She walked around Ruby’s bed. Pyrrha made way for her, getting off said bed so that when Sunset sat down in the chair by her bedside, Pyrrha was not standing between them.

Sunset reached out for Ruby’s hand with one of her own. “I know that I am not a perfect huntress,” she said. “I know that I don’t have the heart of a huntress. I don’t even know that I am a huntress in spirit. But Professor Ozpin said that I could become a hero, and I’m willing to learn how from you, Ruby; if you’re willing to learn from me how to be…” Sunset searched for a word with which to describe herself. “Someone who comes home. Ruby, when I spoke to Yang, I promised her that I would bring you home, as I mean to bring us all home, just as I promised that I would stay by your side, and not run like Raven did. You may call me selfish, but Jaune’s right: if you can teach me how to be a hero, and I can teach you how to be selfish, then I think we’ll both become better friends for those who care about us. So will you teach me, and let yourself be taught? Please?”

Ruby did not look particularly enthused by the idea, and when she looked away, Sunset felt her stomach begin to chill with fear that she would reject the notion out of hand, like the hand of hers that was tightening its grip upon the sheet as though she were about to say something uncomfortable.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Huh?” Sunset gasped, so prepared had she been for rejection. “You mean-?”

“I never meant to worry you,” Ruby said. “I never meant to make Yang feel the way she did. I don’t… you guys don’t really get it, but that’s on me as much as you because I can’t explain it. And if you’re willing to change for my sake, then… how can I do less?” She looked at Sunset now, a sad smile upon her face, the rose touched by frost.

Sunset was victorious, and yet, she took no joy in it. This was not a victory won by argument or good sense, but by… it almost felt like emotional blackmail, for all that she, Sunset, was committing to as much as Ruby was.

Nevertheless, the look on Ruby’s face was almost enough to make her change her mind, save that she knew that Jaune was right.

They needed to find balance: Sunset to make sure that she never again repeated what she had done down in the tunnel, and Ruby so that she survived to see her graduation despite this struggle in which they were engaged.

They both needed it, as painful as it might be for Ruby.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ll try my best,” Ruby said softly. “For you.”

“And so will I,” Sunset vowed.

And never, ever let you know my worst.

He Who Wields the Dagger (New)

He Who Wields the Dagger

Skystar was sitting on the park bench alone when Sunset came across her.

Sunset was, herself, alone, having gone into Vale to… well, just for a bit of a wander really. There was nothing in the city that she wanted, nothing that she had set out to buy or eat or do; she had just wanted to get out of Beacon for a little bit, get away from the temporary memorial to Sky that Lyra and Bon Bon had set up outside the huntsman statue like an ad hoc These Are My Jewels, get away from everything.

And so, she had gone, alone, and let her legs carry her whither they would, and they had brought her first to Winchester Park, close by the skydock, where she found Skystar Aris, sitting on a bench, seeming to stare without really seeing.

She had changed her outfit in concession to approaching fall, donning a parka that covered up whatever she might be wearing underneath, as well as a pair of ocean-blue jeans. Her hands were clasped together between her knees. Her back was bent a little, and her head was bowed.

Sunset stopped. “Skystar?”

Skystar looked up, a small gasp escaping from between her lips. “Sunset,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I was-”

“Preoccupied?” Sunset guessed.

Skystar nodded. “I guess you could say that.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Do you mind if I sit?” she asked, gesturing to the bench on which Skystar was already sitting.

Skystar looked at the empty space beside her. “No, go ahead. Be my guest,” she said.

Sunset sat down beside her, one arm resting upon the wooden back of the bench. “So,” she said, “what’s up?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Skystar said quickly. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot of your own stuff going on without wanting to listen to me go on.”

“Try me,” Sunset said softly.

Skystar glanced at her. “Why? I mean, why do you care?”

“Well…” Sunset looked away for a moment. “If I was going to give you an honest answer, it would probably involve the word ‘guilt.’”

“'Guilt'?” Skystar repeated. “You mean, because of Cardin?”

“In some ways, it feels like a million years ago,” Sunset said softly, looking up at the sky and the myriad Atlesian warships that filled said sky with all their might. “But at the same time, it wasn’t, and I still owe you for it.”

Skystar smiled, if only faintly. “I told you, Sunset; I’m glad that you did what you did. I… I’m only a little upset that you didn’t tell me earlier. I’d rather know the truth than keep living a lie.”

“Really?” Sunset asked. “Even if the truth is more painful than the lie?”

“The truth gets more painful the longer the lie goes on,” Skystar replied, which ignored the fact that some lies were the only things holding relationships together; those relationships would be destroyed by the truth, like Skystar and Cardin’s had been, like Sunset’s relationship with Ruby would be if she ever found out what Sunset had done down there in the tunnel. The truth might get more painful the longer the lie went on, but only assuming the lie stopped.

Skystar asked, “Were you all laughing at me?”

“What?” Sunset asked. “No!”

“Really? Even though you knew that I was dating a guy who was incredibly racist without any idea at all, and you didn’t find it at all funny?”

“No!” Sunset repeated vehemently. “I didn’t laugh at you, and I don’t know anyone who did; we just… didn’t see it as our place to interfere in your relationship.”

“Even though you knew that he wasn’t what I thought he was?”

“Why should you have believed us over your boyfriend?” Sunset responded. “Although… I should probably admit the main reason that I didn’t tell you is that I liked the idea of making Cardin jump with the fact that I could tell you. I’m sorry for that too; it’s another reason I owe you.”

“No,” Skystar insisted. “You don’t.”

“That’s debatable,” Sunset murmured. “But if I’m prying, then… you don’t have to tell me. I can’t force you, and I wouldn’t if I could. I just… if you want to talk to someone, then I’m right here.”

Skystar smiled at her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That’s really nice of you, Sunset, but like I said, I’m sure you have your own stuff going on.”

“Everyone has their own stuff going on,” Sunset said. “It doesn’t mean that we can’t help each other out, still less just listen to one another.”

“You’ll think it’s selfish,” Skystar warned.

“I have no problem whatsoever with selfishness,” Sunset replied. “It’s selflessness that gets to me, honestly.”

Skystar sighed. “It sounds… this is going to sound really petty with everything going on, but… it’s just that, with everything going on, it’s as though nobody cares about the Vytal Festival anymore.”

“I thought one of the first things that your mother announced was that it would still be continuing, and held in Vale, no matter what the Mistralians said?” Sunset asked. “And General Ironwood was appointed head of security not too long ago.”

“I know that it’s still happening,” Skystar explained. “But… nobody cares. Yes, it’s still being held, and Mom talks about how we’re going to make a success of it, but… will anybody come? To the coliseum, or to Vale? Is anybody interested any more?” She paused for a moment. “I get why people have other things on their minds, and I understand what they have on their minds… a grimm attack on the city will do that. We had to cancel our production of A Midwinter’s Tale.”

Sunset thought for a moment. “That… that’s the one where the courtier gets chased offstage and eaten by an ursa, isn’t it?”

Skystar nodded. “It was decided that it wasn’t very appropriate in the circumstances.”

“I can see why,” Sunset murmured.

“This probably all sounds like such a pity party,” Skystar groaned. “People are dead, and here I am, complaining that people aren’t in the mood for a festival. And it’s not because I’m the Amity Princess, it… you probably think that I only got the job because my Mom is the First Councillor… and you would be right, but the reason I wanted the job, the reason that I begged my Mom to give me the job is that… this means a lot to me. And not in the stage scripted ‘I love world peace’ way for the cameras, but…” She hesitated.

“Go on,” Sunset urged. “I’m right here.”

Skystar nodded. “My Dad… he used to really love the Vytal Festival,” she explained. “He was so curious; he loved trying new things, going to new places, meeting new people. He’d try anything, meet anyone, and the Vytal Festival had so much stuff for him to try and so many people for him to meet all in one place. My Mom… her work doesn’t give her time to take vacations. It’s the same for my uncle Sky Beak. And so, every couple of years, Dad and Aunt Ocean Flow would take me and Silverstream for a fall vacation to Atlas or Mistral or even Vacuo. We’d watch the tournament, go around the fairgrounds, explore the city, see everything that they were laying on. It was the thing we looked forward to the most out of… everything.”

She paused.

“And then Dad got sick,” she said softly. “Mom… Mom was desperate to find a cure, a treatment, anything that might help, but Dad… I think Dad knew… after a certain point…” She wiped at her eyes with one hand. “Dad accepted how it was going to end much sooner than Mom did. And the main thing that he wanted was to make sure that we had some great memories to… to remember him by. And so, he made Mom take a vacation, and we went to Mistral the year that Shining Armor won the Vytal Crown for Atlas. And I don’t think I’ll forget anything about that fall because… because it was our last fall, but also because we had so much fun there, That… that’s what I remember. Not how he looked in the hospital, but how he looked after the final match when we all watched the closing fireworks from our hotel balcony. The way the light shone in his face. I… I hope that I never forget it. And that’s why I wanted to be this year’s Amity Princess. I wanted to help everyone have as much fun here as I had over the years.” She sighed. “So much for that, I guess.” She paused. “You… you were there, weren’t you?”

Sunset’s mouth tightened for a moment. “At the Breach? Yeah, I was there.”

“What… what was it like?” Skystar asked.

“I… I’d rather not talk about it,” Sunset murmured. “It was what it was, and what it was was a fight. I don’t really feel like describing what it’s like to fight the grimm.”

“That’s not what I wanted to know anyway,” Skystar murmured. “I… were you scared?”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared,” Skystar admitted. “First, my Mom calls and tells me to get Silverstream and Terramar and get them to the Palace, and then the next thing, people are running around saying that the grimm have broken through the defences, and I… I was terrified. I guess I was wondering if that goes away as part of your huntress training.”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, that part never goes away. They can teach you how to overcome your fear, and some things can take the edge off it, like remembering your training or having the support of capable people around you, but… no, you can’t learn how not to be scared.” She paused. “But I… I’m a little surprised that you were scared.”

“Really?” Skystar asked in disbelief. “The grimm were inside the city! I know that you were fighting there to protect all of us – and thank you, by the way, thank you so much, the city owes you a debt of gratitude-”

“Let’s not go nuts,” Sunset said quickly, feeling a little sick in the stomach at Skystar’s praise of her heroism when it was her fault that the city had been put in danger in the first place. “General Ironwood and his soldiers deserve the praise, not me.”

“You all deserve the praise,” Skystar insisted. “You all… you’re all the reason there is a Vale left. If the grimm had broken through… it really felt as though we could die: me, Mom, Silverstream, Terramar, Aunt Ocean Flow. But we didn’t, because of you, and I know that it wasn’t just you, but you’re the one here in front of me right now so: thank you, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset had to look away. Her stomach felt as though it was going to empty one way or the other, and when she swallowed, her throat was dry and brackish. If this kept up, she was going to have to make her excuses and get out of here, to find somewhere where someone wasn’t trying to praise her for heroism to which she had no right.

“You’re welcome,” she grunted.

Skystar either didn’t notice the discourtesy or was simply too courteous to let on that she had noticed. “Hey, Sunset?”

“Yeah?” Sunset asked softly.

“Cardin… Cardin was there too, wasn’t he?” Skystar asked softly.

Sunset nodded. “Yeah, he was there.”

Skystar looked down at her hands. “Does it… does it sound really weird if I say that I was worried about him?”

Sunset let out a sharp laugh. “No. No, it doesn’t sound weird at all. Not to me, anyway. And not to anyone who has been where we are, I’ll bet.”

“It feels weird to me,” Skystar said. “He lied to me, he betrayed me, I dumped him and for good reason, so why-?”

“Because you still have feelings for him,” Sunset said bluntly. “It’s as simple as that. The heart… it doesn’t care whether we have good reasons for a break up. Well, not all the time, anyway. We still pine, we still get jealous, and yes, we still worry about them.”

Skystar didn’t reply to that for a while. “So… what should I do?”

“Get back together with him?” Sunset suggested. “I think he would, if you asked.”

“No,” Skystar said firmly. “No, I couldn’t do that, not after what he did.”

“Even if he was sorry?”

“'Sorry' doesn’t make up for what he thought about my family,” Skystar declared. “Just because I feel… doesn’t mean that I should.”

“Maybe not,” Sunset admitted. “But it means you’ll be feeling that way for some time to come, I fear. It… moving on can take a while, from my personal experience.” She smiled. “Good thing that you’ll have something else to occupy your mind.”

“Huh?”

Sunset drummed her fingers on the back of the bench. “You know, for all that you’ve said, it strikes me that a time like this is when people need the Vytal Festival the most.”

Skystar looked at her. “You think so?”

“I do,” Sunset affirmed. “You told me so yourself: the most memorable fall with your father was… also the last fall. Because the darkest of times are when we need hope the most.”

Skystar hesitated. “But… nobody cares anymore.”

“Then give them a reason to care,” Sunset insisted. “Show them why the Vytal Festival exists in the first place. I mean, the whole point is to celebrate that humanity came out the other side through the Great War alive, right? So why not celebrate the fact that we came through the Breach?”

Skystar frowned. “Are you sure? What about the people who didn’t?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “I… I don’t know what to say about them, but I will say that Vale needs this. Vale has been hurt, but it needs something to give it a reason to smile again. Something… something so that this year isn’t just about the Breach, but about how Vale came back from the Breach and showed that it wasn’t going to be afraid. Because… keep this to yourself, but the grimm won’t stay gone forever. A lot of them died, and that will make things easier for a little bit, but if everyone in this kingdom keeps walking around under a cloud, then they’ll be back. If you can chase the clouds away, then you’ll be doing as much for Vale as any huntsman or huntress, and maybe more.”

Skystar scoffed. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel useful.”

“I’m being serious,” Sunset insisted. “If negative emotions draw the grimm, then it stands to reason that we need good vibes. We need this. And not just the people of Vale either; I think that all of us at Beacon need it too. We… we’ve fought a fight that we shouldn’t have had to at our age, and we deserve a chance to fight in a tournament with rules instead of against monsters. We deserve a chance to stand in that coliseum with a vast crowd cheering our names. We deserve to be the centre of attention for once, before we die like Sky, our names forgotten. Pyrrha deserves to lift the laurel crown above her head and have all of Remnant gaze on her in admiration.” Sunset grinned. “She’ll hate that, of course, but she deserves it all the same, and it will please her mother no end.”

Skystar giggled. “So the fact that she doesn’t want it doesn’t bother you at all?”

“I’m Pyrrha’s team leader and her best friend; I’m allowed to know what’s best for her from time to time,” Sunset declared. “Which is the point: just because people right now don’t think they want the Vytal Festival doesn’t mean that they don’t need it or deserve it. So get up, go out there, and you give us all a festival to remember. Just like the ones you had with your father.”

Skystar looked at her, still and silent, then she gave a firm emphatic nod, “I… I will! Just you watch!”

First Councillor Novo Aris looked down at the note – handwritten, unusually, although with first rate calligraphy nevertheless – resting on top of her desk.

She had read it twice, but she read it a third time just in case this was all a bad dream.

She would have given a great deal for recent events to have turned out to be all a bad dream, but unfortunately, she hadn’t woken up yet.

Novo looked up from the letter and into the face of General Seaspray, commanding officer – for now – of the Valish Defence Force.

The General stood to attention before her desk, wearing his dress uniform of forest green with loops of gold brocade stretching across his chest and brass buttons polished to a shine. His cap was tucked under his arm, and he wore a ceremonial sword upon his right hip.

It was an impressive sight, or it would have been in more congenial circumstances. At present, however, Novo could not help but find it a little ostentatious.

“General,” she said, keeping her voice calm and quiet, “would you care to explain this?” She nudged the letter towards him slightly.

General Seaspray did not look at her. Rather, he kept his gaze a few inches over the top of Novo’s head. “I believe that the contents speak for themselves, Madam Councillor.”

“Humour me,” Novo urged.

General Seaspray cleared his throat. “It’s my resignation, Madam Councillor, with immediate effect.”

“Your resignation,” Novo repeated, her voice sharpening.

Still General Seaspray did not look at her. “It has been my honour and privilege-”

“General,” Novo interrupted him before he could repeat the platitudes from his letter. “Do you really believe that this is the time for you to depart?”

General Seaspray did not reply for a moment. “While it is not the time that I would have chosen to resign, the fact of the matter is that this is the only time when I can depart from my post, at this point. I must say, Madam Councillor, I’m a little surprised that you disagree. Vale suffered an attack which could have been catastrophic, a catastrophe from which we were only delivered by the support of General Ironwood and his Atlesian troops-”

“I don’t hold you responsible for the Breach,” Novo assured him. “Nor does anyone else with any sense in Vale, I assure you.”

“Nevertheless, it happened on my watch,” General Seaspray reminded her. “Vale has been assaulted, violated, and my army – the army that is pledged to the defence of Vale – was missing in action when the call came out. Someone must pay the price for our inability to defend ourselves, and as the commanding officer, the responsibility – and the duty to pay that price – rests with me. The Defence Force needs a new commanding officer to restore both the honour of the army and public confidence in our troops. Only a new man can draw a line underneath this and move forward with a clean slate. Quite frankly, Madam Councillor, if I did not resign, then my failure to do so would, itself, be a resigning matter.”

“This is not your fault,” Novo said softly.

“Nevertheless, Madam Councillor,” General Seaspray said. He ventured to smile. “I was not aware that in politics one suffered blame and consequence only for one’s own faults.”

Novo was not amused, not least because the words struck rather close to home. Her poll ratings – her personal ratings and those of her party – had not so much fell since the Breach as they had collapsed, the humiliation of the Breach itself being compounded by a daily diet of questions in the press about defence spending, as journalists and her political opponents alike both managed to simultaneously suggest that not enough money had been spent on defence and that the money that had been spent had been wasted.

General Seaspray spoke of drawing a line underneath this incident. That was something that Novo herself would have done very eagerly.

She did not think that the resignation of the commanding officer would bring the matter to a close.

“Suppose the crisis is not over yet,” she suggested.

“With the White Fang in Vale destroyed and the grimm decimated, I’m not sure how the crisis could be said to be continuing,” General Seaspray said.

“The insurrectionist Cinder Fall remains at large and may strike again,” Novo replied. “Do you not think it is your duty to remain in post until everything has been dealt with and Vale’s safety guaranteed?”

“With respect, Madam Councillor, that is the reverse of sense; if you truly believe that Vale remains in danger, then it is all the more urgent that the Defence Force be led by someone who can command the confidence of the public.”

“And what of my confidence?” Novo asked. “You still enjoy my confidence.”

“For which I thank you,” General Seaspray said, bowing his head, “but I assure you, ma’am, that there are plenty of capable officers who could succeed me in my post, and they will win your confidence just as easily as I have done. If you request it, I will, of course, give you my recommendation on who my successor should be, but the choice will be yours.” He paused. “May I speak freely, Madam Councillor?”

“You may,” Novo said.

“Why don’t you want me to go, ma’am?”

Novo snorted. “Perhaps it’s because you’re from Mount Aris like me.”

General Seaspray did not react.

“Or perhaps it’s because it offends my sense of decency that you are resigning while Professor Ozpin sits smug in his tower, convinced I cannot touch him,” Novo declared. “Does it not stick in your craw, General? Do you not think that Professor Ozpin’s refusal to resign is, itself, a resigning matter?”

“Professor Ozpin’s students did brave work at the Breach,” General Seaspray pointed out mildly.

“For which they would be praised and honoured, if Professor Ozpin would let me near them,” Novo growled.

A statement from even one of the young huntsmen and huntresses who had fought to save Vale would have been a great fillip to her in this difficult time; it would have secured her standing immediately if one of the heroes of the hour had come out and said that she – and the government – had done nothing wrong. But Professor Ozpin refused to even broach the subject with any of them, still less to let her come up to Beacon herself to speak to them about it.

She had a feeling that General Ironwood might have been more obliging, but an endorsement from Atlas students would have been less than useless to her.

Novo wondered if the time had come to approach young Cardin Winchester, who would surely oblige her… but that would mean ignoring the way in which he had deceived her – and deceived Skystar, what was more – and held onto his ghastly views about her brother-in-law, her niece and nephew.

She was not ready to forgive him for that, or pretend that it was of no matter to her, not for a boost in the polls.

No, she would wait it out. There was still time before the election. The news cycle would move on, public sympathy for the fallen would fade, and people would come to appreciate the Breach as the near miss that it was. In time, this, like all things, would pass.

It was a pity that General Seaspray couldn’t see that.

She pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. “Is there nothing at all that I can say that will convince you to remain in your post?”

“I’m afraid not, Madam Councillor.”

Novo took a deep breath, and then forced herself to smile a little as she held out her hand. “Then I wish you good luck, General, in all of your future endeavours.”

General Seaspray took her head. “And I wish you the very best of fortune, ma’am, as you continue to lead this kingdom into better days.”

The door into the First Councillor’s office flew open so hard that it slammed into the wall. Aspen strode in, his footsteps thumping even through the carpet. “General,” he acknowledged General Seaspray with a curt nod, before directing all of his attention to Novo. “Leo’s giving a press conference.”

“He’s what?” Novo demanded. “That’s not on the grid!”

“That isn’t stopping him,” Aspen replied. “I went to school with the political editor of the Daily Herald – we were the only scholarship boys in our year – apparently, Leo’s telling everyone that he’s got a bombshell to drop.”

“Try and find another word; we’ve had enough bombs already,” Novo muttered. “Did your friend in the press tell you why Leo’s holding a press conference?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Would he tell you if he did?” Novo asked.

“That would depend on whether he got a juicier story out of a pre-emptive reaction or letting things play out,” Aspen muttered. “We’re friends of sorts, but-”

“His job comes first,” Novo finished for him.

“As this appears to be a political matter, I should withdraw,” General Seaspray said tactfully.

“Yes, thank you, General,” Novo murmured. She looked at him. “I do mean that. Thank you for your service.”

Aspen blinked. “Are you going somewhere, General?”

“To spend more time with my family, Councillor,” General Seaspray replied.

“I see,” Aspen said softly. “Best of luck then, General.”

“Thank you, Councillor,” General Seaspray said, before he turned and left the office, closing the door that Aspen had thrown open so violently.

“Does it not revolt you that a blameless man feels the need to resign from his post while Professor Ozpin appears oblivious to the need to do the decent thing and make way?” Novo asked.

“Professor Ozpin is a lot harder to fire than General Seaspray,” Aspen observed.

“But not impossible,” Novo said.

“Theoretically, no,” Aspen conceded. “But you’d need all three other headmasters to agree to his dismissal, and he has Ironwood on his side.”

“Then I’ll get rid of both of them, though it costs me every scrap of influence this kingdom has in Atlas,” Novo declared. “They knew. Both of them, they knew what was coming, and they sat on it until the last minute. I may be forced to appoint General Ironwood as head of security, but that does not mean I have forgotten or forgiven. His day will come, as surely as that of Professor Ozpin.”

“Revenge is rarely healthy in any walk of life, Novo,” Aspen said warily, “but it’s terrible politics.”

Novo snorted. “And here I thought you didn’t like the Atlesians.”

“I didn’t want them here,” Aspen conceded. “But I was wrong about that, and while you’re right to be pissed off at the way that the two of them handled this… burning the political capital of the kingdom on a grudge is not what I got into politics for, and as for Ozpin… yes, the man deserves to be conveyed to the Bastion by the river, but the public won’t want to see their Council devoting all of their energies to persecuting the headmaster of Beacon at a time like this-”

“Don’t preach reticence to me,” Novo said. “All year, I have suffered his incompetence-”

“But the public mood is for unity,” Aspen insisted. “The people want to see their leaders come together in the wake of this catastrophe, rebuild, shore up the defences. And for better or worse, they trust Professor Ozpin; the only credit gained for Vale in this whole miserable saga has been from the bravery of his students.”

“If people found out-”

“This is the worst time to pick a fight with the headmaster of Beacon,” Aspen told her. “It’s the worst time to pick a fight with anyone, but especially with the headmaster of Beacon.” He paused. “And besides, I’m more worried about Leo right now.”

“Leo, yes,” Novo murmured. “Leo and his press conference. Have you tried calling him?”

“I have; he’s not answering,” Aspen replied.

“I’ll try,” Novo said, picking up her scroll. She found Leo’s number and dialled. There was no response. The scroll rang and rang, but no one answered. She frowned. “Have you tried his Private Secretary?”

“They don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘they don’t know’?!” Novo squawked. “It’s their job to know what he’s doing!”

“Not if it’s party business,” Aspen muttered. His scroll beeped. He took the device out of his breast pocket and snapped it open. He scowled. “It’s starting now,” he said. He pushed a button and put down the scroll on top of Novo’s desk.

The light on the right-hand side of the scroll flashed as a hologram appeared above the desk: a hologram of Leo Aquas, standing in front of their front door, with the lens of a camera just visible poking into view.

“What are you doing, Leo?” Novo asked.

“Thank you all for coming,” Leo began. He looked pale, but not nervous. His voice did not tremble as he spoke. “I speak to you under the lingering shadow of a terrible tragedy. Vale has been attacked. Vale has been wounded. Vale… has showed itself to be vulnerable. As you know, as everyone is painfully aware, were it not for the presence of the Atlesian forces, Vale would have been overrun by the creatures of grimm. Serious questions have been asked about the state of our Kingdom’s defences, and I am afraid that those questions are justified.”

“What?” Novo asked as a murmur of surprise arose from the unseen reporters who must surely be gathered outside Leo’s door. “Did he… is he agreeing with the opposition?”

“Events have made it undeniably clear that the Council, of which I have been a part, has failed to maintain adequate defences or security measures,” Leo went on. “The dust robberies, which the Department of the Interior failed to stop-”

“Little bastard,” Aspen growled.

“The White Fang’s reign of terror, which, likewise, the police were powerless to prevent,” Leo went on. “And finally, this attack, this near-fatal assault on Vale in which our military were found so desperately wanting and our dependence upon our allies was so brutally exposed.

“I have, for some time, argued the case for greater defence spending and greater funding of the police,” Leo declared.

“No, you did not, you lying-”

“But my voice was overruled, and bound by the dictates of collective responsibility, I had no choice but to acquiesce in the will of the majority,” Leo said, “but in the wake of this tragedy, I find that I must ask myself where my loyalties truly lie: to my Council colleagues or to the Kingdom of Vale itself? Can I, in good conscience, remain a member of a Council that has so badly let down the people that I was elected to serve? Do I believe that it is possible for these concerns to be resolved from within the present administration? Sadly, I fear that the answer to those questions is 'no.' And so, following the dictates of my conscience, I am resigning as Chancellor with immediate effect. In doing so, I do what I believe to be right, for my party and for my kingdom.” He looked directly into the camera. “I believe that the time has come for others to consider their own responses to the conflict of loyalties with which I myself have wrestled for perhaps too long. Thank you; I will not be taking any questions at this time.”

He turned away. The hologram displayed him walking back inside his house, shutting the door in the faces of all those reporters whose shouted questions went unanswered.

Novo stared ahead of her. Even when Aspen turned off the hologram, she stared ahead of her, barely able to comprehend it.

“'Loyalty'?” Aspen snapped. “He has the nerve to talk about loyalty after pulling a stunt like that? He might as well have-”

“Called for my head on a plate?” Novo asked softly.

Aspen winced. “Nobody will be taken in by his crocodile tears,” he insisted. “People will see it for what it is.”

I hope you’re right, but fear you’re wrong. Novo took a deep breath. “You’re right, of course,” she said, a strained smile appearing on her face. “This is… ambition, nothing more, and everyone will see it. We will continue on, with a new Chancellor and a new commanding general, and we will put this crisis behind us and lead Vale… lead Vale into better days.”

Yet, as she said them, General Seaspray’s words seemed to Novo Aris like a particularly bitter jest.

Through the Clouds (New)

Through the Clouds

“Huh,” Rainbow said.

“Hmm?” Ciel said, looking up from her book. “Something interesting?”

They were on the open deck of the skyliner. Everyone was there in some fashion: Rainbow, Ciel, Twilight, Spike, Applejack, Fluttershy, Blake; Twilight had even rigged up Penny’s optical sensors to a drone so that – the drone being over there with them – she could ‘see’ everything that the drone’s cameras could see and speak out of a speaker plugged into the miniature flyer. Since Rainbow couldn’t bring everyone over to the Hope – you could make a case for Applejack or Blake, but definitely not for Fluttershy – she had instead flown everyone and the drone over to the civilian airship, where they all stood or sat upon the deck. Rainbow was leaning with her back to the safety rail, reading that book that Tukson had given her; Ciel was standing, ramrod straight, in the middle of the deck, likewise reading – In Search of the Historical Lady of the North. Fluttershy was fussing over Spike, while Applejack and Twilight sat on the deck playing cards. Blake leaned upon the rails, her elbows resting on the metal as the breeze whipped through her long dark hair as she looked out across the white expanse of Solitas spread out all around them.

That was why they were all on the open deck; that was why Rainbow had gotten everybody here like this. They had crossed the ocean, and now, the two ships were on their final approach to Atlas itself. Rainbow wanted everyone to be here for that moment when they broke through the clouds and beheld the shining kingdom because… well, because it was a sight to see, and it would be cool for them to all see it together.

It made Rainbow’s heart soar, every time.

“I’ve only just started, but listen to this,” Rainbow said. She cleared her throat. “‘This book is dedicated to Doughnut Joe Sr., whose shop I frequented when I was living in Atlas.’ I never realised that Sienna Khan lived in Atlas; I thought she was from Mistral.”

“No,” Blake murmured. “She was born in Atlas and only moved to Mistral when she was a young adult.”

Twilight looked up. “But why would she dedicate her book to a guy who owned a doughnut shop, even if she did used to go there? It’s not like I’d dedicate a book to Mr. and Mrs. Cake.”

“I’m getting to that,” Rainbow told her. “‘He was a man of great curiosity and always willing to talk with me about anything and everything new that I had learned or discovered. One day, he said to me, “You’re always talking about this book of yours; why don’t you write it?” I told him that I needed to go to Mistral to research in the archives there and that I didn’t have the money right now – at the time, I was working as a researcher for the Atlesian News Network, saving as much as I could. Joe asked me how much I needed, and I told him about a thousand lien. That was all he said on the matter at the time, but the next time I was in there, he pressed eleven hundred lien into my hand. “On to Mistral, then,” he said, “and if you need more, let me know.” Without his help, I would never have been able to start on this journey.’” Rainbow lowered the book. “It makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“What does it make you think?” Penny asked, her mechanical voice emerging from out of the drone where it sat on the deck.

“It makes you think about the White Fang,” Rainbow explained. “And what would have happened if Joe Senior hadn’t lent Sienna that money to go to Mistral. Imagine if he’d kept his lien and Sienna had had to stick around Atlas trying to get enough money together for her trip. Maybe she never would have managed it, and maybe the White Fang would have stayed a peaceful organisation under Blake’s father.”

“I doubt that,” Blake said, turning to face Rainbow. “To be honest, I don’t think even Sienna Khan would attribute that kind of importance to herself.”

“She is pretty important,” Rainbow pointed out. “I mean, she’s the reason that the White Fang turned to violence five years ago.”

“No,” Blake replied, “she’s the one who led the White Fang into violence; there’s a difference.”

“Post hoc ergo propter hoc,” Ciel said.

“Post what now?” Applejack said.

“'After this, therefore because of this,'” Twilight translated. “Just because one thing follows on from another doesn’t mean that the thing that came before is responsible for what came after.”

“But if a leader takes charge of a group and then that leader does a thing, then the leader taking charge is responsible for the thing that they did,” Rainbow said. “That seems obvious.”

“I believe Blake’s point is that at or around that particular moment, it was inevitable that there would be a change of leadership in the White Fang and that that new leader would adopt policies similar to those instituted by Sienna Khan,” Ciel said.

“Exactly,” Blake agreed. “Five years ago, my father was tired of the struggle, and faunus inside and outside the organisation were tired of the lack of results; it wasn’t Sienna Khan who forced my father to step down, it was the general clamour for a new approach. And yes, Sienna Khan was the person who stepped up in those circumstances, and yes, she advocated for a muscular, confrontational, violent approach to the struggle for equality, but no one who didn’t advocate for that could have succeeded my father – that was what people wanted, a High Leader who would stand up to the Kingdoms – which means, equally, that anyone who succeeded my father would have done as she did. It’s interesting to speculate on Sienna Khan’s personal history if she hadn’t been given that gift that allowed her to go to Mistral, to study, to publish, to get her PhD, but her personal history is all that would change. If you wanted to change the trajectory of the White Fang, you would have to have my father achieve some tangible results to stave off criticism and renew his energy for the fight.”

“So the person doesn’t matter?” Applejack asked. “Who they are, where they come from, how they were raised don’t make no difference? We’re all just… placeholders? Ah don’t know if Ah buy that.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Blake replied. “Sienna herself goes into much more detail on this in that book, but the thrust of it is that people are shaped by their world far more often than the reverse, and that while writing history as the story of a heroic protagonist shaping said history by their actions may make for a good read, it betrays the complexity of the world and the economic and cultural forces that shape it. Sienna concedes that there is such a thing as a Great Man – and that Ares Claudandus himself was one of them – who can exercise an outsized influence on events, and without whose presence, the course of history would look different; but even they rise out of their specific moments and are shaped by them. Without the Great War, there would have been no Faunus Rights Revolution, Claudandus or no.”

Rainbow began, “And Sienna Khan-”

“Is not on that level of greatness, no,” Blake said. “As I said, I don’t think even she’d claim that.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured. “I get what you’re saying, but… like Applejack said, I don’t know.”

“None of us are immune to the influence of where and how we grew up,” Twilight pointed out.

“Influence, sure, but we’re all so much more than that,” Rainbow insisted. “What about where or how I grew up made it obvious that I would become a huntress? What about-?” She pointed at Applejack, and then stopped. “Okay, it kind of works for you.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

Rainbow grinned. “Come on, it’s not my fault you’re like ‘salt of the earth family values’ one hundred percent.”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with family values,” Applejack declared. “Or with salt of the earth, for that matter, neither. Ah’m proud to be proud of where Ah come from and what Ah come from.”

“I never said there was anything wrong with that; I’m just saying that you really are who you are because of where you were born and how you were brought up in a way that isn’t true for the rest of us,” Rainbow said. “It isn’t true for me, it isn’t true for Fluttershy; Fluttershy, your parents were engineers; who could have predicted that you’d be able to communicate with animals, or that your brother would become a hairstylist? And a creep.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Fluttershy said reproachfully. “That isn’t very nice.”

“Nor is getting hit on all the time,” Rainbow muttered. “But I’m sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t have said it, but the point is that we’re all so much more than where we came from. Ciel, sure, your folks are religious, but society isn’t, so how do you explain that?”

“I understand your point, but feel as though you may be missing Blake’s,” Ciel said. “Or at least reducing it down to a level it was not meant to sink to.”

“No, I understand what Blake is saying; she’s saying that big historical events happen because of everything else that was going on at the same time,” Rainbow said. “And I’m saying that, haven’t we been involved in big historical events? The White Fang in Vale were not defeated because of the economy or the culture or society or any other big ideas like that; they were defeated because of you, Blake. They were defeated because you decided that you wanted out, you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore, you decided that you had to do something. And also because I tried to kill you and scared you into running away and somehow we ended up at the docks but we’re all friends now so let’s move on anyway. My point is that if Sienna Khan is right, then that would have all happened anyway with or without you, but how? Who would have stopped the robbery, who would have captured Torchwick? Are you just a placeholder, like Applejack said, and if you weren’t around, someone else would have left the White Fang and come to Beacon instead? I don’t buy that. I don’t buy that one bit, and you know why: because no one else did. Only you.”

“You never know,” Spike said. “Maybe Blake’s one of those Great Men of history?”

Rainbow was of the opinion that Spike had a very good point there, and once upon a time, she would have said so, but she’d promised Blake – okay, maybe she hadn’t technically promised, but she’d as good as promised Blake – that she wouldn’t put that kind of pressure on her anymore, so she didn’t say anything, and even tried not to smile as a flush of colour rose to Blake’s cheeks.

“That is…” Blake trailed off. “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe that you’re talking.”

“I’m getting that a lot lately,” Spike said.

“I also can’t believe that you’re all so okay with this,” Blake said.

“Why wouldn’t we be okay with this?” asked Penny.

“It isn’t exactly normal,” Blake pointed out.

“Neither am I,” Penny replied. “Normal is very relative.”

“I…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “I suppose you’re right about that, Penny.”

“Besides, it ain’t like we got much choice ‘cept to accept it,” Applejack drawled. “It is what it is: Spike’s talkin’ now, and hootin’ and hollerin’ about it ain’t gonna change it.”

“I’m a little concerned,” Fluttershy admitted, “but I’ve checked Spike over, and I agree with Twilight that it doesn’t seem to have done him any harm.”

“I told you I was fine!” Spike declared.

“I know,” Fluttershy said, scratching him beneath the chin, “but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know I’d be worried sick if anything was wrong with you.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Spike said, rolling over onto his back in Fluttershy’s lap, kicking his legs happily in the air.

Blake smiled very slightly at the sight, then turned away to once more look out beyond the airship. They had left the ocean behind, crossing the shoreline and passing over Solitas itself. The water beneath them had changed to tundra fields; it wasn’t quite fall yet, so the ground wasn’t frozen, but it was hard and rocky and desolate all the same. Nothing grew, nothing lived – or at least not much, and nothing that could be seen at the moment. Venture along the coasts, and you could find penguins, seals, and maybe you might find caribou or, if you were unlucky, a polar bear, but not very many of any of them, and none could be seen right now.

“How do you manage to grow any food?” Blake asked.

“The first colonists didn’t bother,” Rainbow said. “They lived on seal meat and other things they could hunt, like walruses or whales.”

Everyone looked at her.

“I know some things!” Rainbow said defensively.

“Thankfully, we don’t do that so much any more,” Fluttershy said.

“It was never quite so simple,” Ciel announced. “Although it is true there was no farming in the early days of Solitas, there was some gathering of wild plant life.”

“But you don’t still live on seal and whale meat?” Blake asked.

Applejack shook her head. “We farm just like any other folks do these days. Solitas ain’t all this bleak lookin’. There’s some darn fine farmin’ country off towards the west coast. That’s where I grew up; that’s where we’ve still got our family farm: Sweet Apple Acres.” Her face fell. “Of course, out west where it’s less icy and such, the grimm are a lot friskier than they get out here. Something you always gotta watch out for.”

Blake winced. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t sayin’ it fer pity,” Applejack said. “And I’m just sayin’, that’s the way it is. You asked, I answered.”

“There are also the biodomes,” Twilight said.

“Don’t talk to me about them; they ain’t real farmin’,” Applejack said dismissively.

“'Biodomes'?” Blake asked.

“Big greenhouse kind of things,” Applejack said. “Artificial indoor farms stuck in the middle of the cold. Lot of robots in ‘em, doing all the hard work. Well, like my Pa always said, you ain’t a real farmer ‘less you getting your hands dirty.” She shrugged. “Anyway, truth be told, most of the food in Atlas ain’t grown in fancy domes nor in the west. It gets shipped up from Mistral in huge airships.”

“Really?” Blake asked.

“Uh-huh,” Applejack said.

“The General told me once that about a third of the fleet is protecting the Mistral food convoys at any one time,” Rainbow said.

“I suppose there’s not much more important than food,” Blake said. “A kingdom could survive running out of dust more easily than it could survive running out of food for its people.” She paused. “It’s funny, isn’t it, the way that everything is integrated? As if someone deliberately set out to make the four kingdoms dependent on one another.”

“Why would anyone do that?” Twilight asked.

“To prevent another war?” Blake suggested.

“Attention all passengers,” the loud-speaker declared, “we are approaching Atlas now. We’ll be in sight of the city shortly.”

Rainbow shut the book and stowed it hastily in a waterproof bag at her feet. “Okay, everyone this is it, get ready. Blake, Penny, this is your first time, or first time back, so you won’t want to miss this.”

“I might,” Penny murmured as everyone else got up and found somewhere to stand where their view would not be obstructed by anyone or anything.

Rainbow looked at the drone, sat down on the deck. She knelt down in front of it, so that she was closer to the camera. “It’s going to be okay, Penny. I’m going to make sure of it.” She grinned. “Now come on. This is one of the greatest sights in Remnant.”

She picked up the drone and held it up above her head as the skyliner – and the Hope which kept it company – sailed on towards a thick cloud bank, a wall of whiteness which obscured anything which might be found upon the other side.

The frigid tundra, white with the snow which covered the ground, bleak with the lack of anything but snow, fell away beneath the airships as they sailed onwards. The skyliner’s wings beat up and down, up and down, as it bore its passengers towards the clouds.

The Hope was slightly in the lead, and its long prow was the first to pierce the cloudbank. The black hull began to disappear from sight as more and more of the great ship flew into the all-consuming whiteness, but Rainbow could still see the green position lights of the cruiser’s port side blinking on and off, dim but visible, penetrating out through the cloud.

Then the bow of their own ship, just a few feet away, passed into the clouds, and as it did so, Rainbow ceased to be able to see it. The cloud, the wall of white, seemed to roll towards them over the deck, devouring all before it.

“My glasses always get so wet after this,” Twilight moaned.

“It’s part of the experience,” Rainbow said, as with one hand – the other still holding Penny’s drone aloft – she pulled her goggles down over her eyes.

But as the cloud bank engulfed her, engulfed them all, as it swept across the skyliner and consumed it, Rainbow didn’t activate any of the modes that might have helped her see better. Not only would they have spoiled the view when they came out of the clouds again, but Rainbow felt as though this, too, was part of the experience.

Everyone was gone. Everyone had disappeared, lost from sight in a fog so thick that Rainbow couldn’t see them. They had been so close before, all around her, but now, they were gone, as if they had been snatched away in an instant.

There was nothing. Nothing but the deck beneath her feet – a deck which, for all that she could see, didn’t extend much past her feet – and the blinking green lights of the Hope where it flew upon their right, and even then, it seemed to be nothing but green lights, disembodied, blinking as they floated in the air.

The droplets of water touched her face, tickling her cheeks, dousing her hair. She could feel the water running down her raised arm.

“Is everyone still here?” Penny asked.

“We are, Penny,” Ciel confirmed, her voice emerging from out of nowhere. “We are all still here.”

“Am I the only one who thinks this is a little creepy?” Spike asked.

“Only if you’re quiet,” Twilight said. “And even then, it’s the good kind of creepy.”

“There’s a good kind of creepy?”

“Of course there is,” Twilight explained. “It’s the difference between a horror ride and a horrifying experience.”

“Does it always take this long?” Blake asked.

“It builds suspense,” Rainbow replied.

Blake paused for a moment, before she asked archly. “When we get out of this cloud, are we going to find that somebody has been murdered.”

“'Murdered'?” Penny cried. “Why would anyone be murdered?”

“Blake is referring to a cliché of melodramas and murder mysteries,” Ciel explained. “A group of characters gather in a room. The lights go out. Somebody screams. The lights come on again, and one of the characters is dead. Obviously, that will not happen here.”

Rainbow let out a blood-curdling scream at the top of her voice, prompting a squeal of alarm from Fluttershy.

“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack snapped reproachfully.

“Oh, come on!” Rainbow replied, as sniggers slipped out of her mouth. “Ciel set that one up perfectly!”

“That was not my intent,” Ciel murmured.

“I thought it was funny,” Penny said.

“Thanks, Penny,” said Rainbow Dash.

And then the skyliner passed through the layer of cloud, emerging once again into the clear skies to behold, floating in the air before them, Atlas.

It was the most glorious sight that Rainbow Dash had ever seen, and probably would ever see; certainly, she couldn’t imagine anything more magnificent than the sight that confronted them as they cleared the cloudbank. This was what they were here for, this was why she had gathered them all out here on the open deck, because this… this was worth it.

The city of Atlas flew. It was something that everyone knew, but it was one thing to know it and quite something else to see it, an entire city raised up into the sky, reaching towards heaven.

And they weren’t just talking about floating buildings, or a flat disk to build upon, no, this was a whole chunk of rock, a mass of earth so deep that a crater had been left where it had been before, all of it lifted up out of the ground by gravity dust and great engines of unmatched power.

Lifted out of the ground by science and cleverness, by geniuses like Twilight and Penny’s father, by the same kind of people who had designed the fleet of airships that patrolled around the city, the black shapes of the cruisers looking like insects buzzing around their hive.

The skyliner was approaching from slightly higher than the city itself, although not as high as the highest towers, so Rainbow and the others could get a good view of the upper city as they made their way in: they could see the irrigated fields on the east and west sides, where the climate control systems allowed a little farming to be done in spite of the temperatures and the high altitudes; she could see the miniature mountains to the north, which would have been dwarfed by the actual mountains on the tundra below if Atlas had been set down upon the ground but which looked pretty cool when taken by themselves – how many people could say they made their mountains fly, huh, even if they were just little mountains? She could see the raised spur on the eastern side just below the mountains, the mansions of the Schnees and the Marigolds built up on the highest land in the highest place in Remnant where people could live. She could see the rest of Atlas, forming first an O around the central peak, then moving downwards between the farmland to the east and west before spreading out like a fish’s tail as it approached the edge of Atlas, stopping short of that edge because, you know, it was a long way down to the tundra below. She could see the high towers of glass and steel, she could see the megamalls, and the parks, and the open squares. She could see the monorail lines looping around the Academy and spreading out across the city.

And she could see Atlas Academy itself, the highest pinnacle in the highest city, set upon a lonely mountain of dark rock, joined by air and monorail and elevator with the city around it; the grounds weren’t as spacious as Beacon, it didn’t have the same wide open expanse, but it was beautiful nonetheless, at least in her eyes: the iron tower, lit up with lights of blue and white, surrounded by lesser towers like the points on a crown.

And it shone. It shone in the night with the million lights that were as high up as the stars themselves, it shone in daylight as the sunlight reflected off the glass. It shone with what it was, what it meant, what it represented, not just the greatest kingdom, but a shining light for all the kingdoms. A promise to Remnant.

A promise you broke.

Rainbow Dash frowned. That was Sunset talking, not her. She was… she didn’t feel… she had done what she had to do, for Applejack. More than that, she’d done the tactically smart thing. She’d done the only sensible thing. None of what had happened after was on her. She had no regrets.

This wasn’t the time for regrets, or the place, not with Atlas in view, and getting closer.

True, it wasn’t perfect, and true, the presence of Low Town in the crater down below, lurking in the shadow of Atlas above like a shameful secret, was like a stain on a picture – except worse, because it was kind of like a stain on the spirit too, but still… it was Atlas. It was Atlas, bright and beautiful, grand and glorious, Atlas in all her radiant majesty and hers. Hers to have, hers to fight for, hers to share with those she loved.

A shining kingdom in the clouds, for all of them.

“Everyone,” Rainbow said, a smile spreading out across her face. “We’re home.”

Welcome (New)

Welcome

“Does anyone need a ride anywhere?” Weiss asked.

The Rosepetals had returned to the cruiser; they had to take Penny to the lab to begin her repairs immediately, and so Blake and the others might not be seeing them again for a little while. Blake, Applejack, and Fluttershy had gone back to their cabins to get their bags — Blake had been packed and ready before they went up on deck — and were now waiting on the concourse deck for the airship to finish docking and let them out. Weiss and Flash had joined them there, likewise waiting alongside all the other passengers aboard the skyliner. The hubbub of casual conversation rose all around them as men and women waited to depart.

“You mean share a cab or somethin’?” Applejack asked.

“No,” Weiss replied. “I, um…” She paused and, for a moment, looked a little embarrassed to have brought the subject up. “My, um,” she cleared her throat. “My butler will be coming to pick me up in the limo, and it would be no trouble to drop you off wherever you’d like to go.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Fluttershy said, “but we’re meeting my parents at the skydock, so we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure that it’s okay for me to stay at your house?” Blake asked. Fluttershy had offered her the use of the spare room in her parents’ place for the duration of her stay. “I wouldn’t want to put your family to any trouble.”

Fluttershy smiled. “It will be fine, Blake; my parents are looking forward to having you. We couldn’t just let you stay in some hotel all by yourself after everything you’ve done for us.”

“Ah’d let you stay at mah place,” Applejack said. “Only mah place is on the other side of Solitas.”

“So where are you staying until you go back there?” Blake asked. “Or are you leaving right away?”

“Nah, Ah’m stayin’ with Pinkie for a little bit,” Applejack said. “Just a couple of days, most likely, but still. Most of her family spend their time out on their estate, so the Atlas house always has plenty of room — it’s just Pinkie and Maud right now — but… well, Pinkie can take some gettin’ used to; Ah ain’t sure you’d want to room with her.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “I think I know what you mean.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking you up on that offer, Weiss,” Flash ventured. “I mean, if it’s no trouble; I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to follow through,” Weiss informed him. “Trust me, going out of my way a little before going home will not be putting me out.”

The bulkhead opened. Unlike at Beacon, where the airships that carried them to school had extended a ramp out to meet the docking pads which had been built only for much smaller airships, here, the skyliner had landed bodily upon the much larger docking platform, and at once, the passengers began to pour of the open doors, heading across the dark grey platform to the docking complex on the other side.

Applejack grinned. “Well, y’all have fun, now.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said. “It was lovely to meet you… all of you.” She glanced at Blake before she began to move, dragging her case behind her as she joined the throne headed for the doors.

“Bye, girls,” Flash said, before he fell in behind Weiss.

“Goodbye, Flash,” Fluttershy said.

“Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?” Applejack called to him.

Flash, already halfway to the door, turned and waved back at them before he turned away, presenting his back to them once more. Soon, they had lost him in the crowd.

“We should probably get movin’ ourselves,” Applejack said. Winona, on a leash at Applejack’s side, tugged upon the lead in her eagerness, but Applejack kept a firm grip on it and kept her dog from getting away or causing any trouble as the three of them made their way out.

They were some of the last to leave, joining the tail end of the crowd as they spilled out of the narrow exit and onto the wide expanse of tarmac, and then narrowing again like a river which briefly forms a lake to pile through the doors into the skydock. A blast of cold air hit Blake’s face — and other places besides, biting through clothing that she was beginning to think might not be entirely suitable for the surroundings — as they left, before being replaced by a sudden feeling of warmth as they stepped out of the open and into the skydock lounge.

The access and exit lounge was white as snow, with lights flickering through the colours of the aurora above them so that the white lounge was continuously being cast into different shades — and so was everyone within it. Android attendants, the cool blue lights of their heads reflecting off their pristine white bodies, moved amongst the rows of padded chairs, bearing trays of drinks and snacks. A hologram of a woman in a crisp blue uniform was being projected from a raised circular podium near the door.

“Greetings, visitors, and welcome to Atlas,” the hologram said in a chipper voice. “I’m sure that you’ll enjoy your stay here in the greatest kingdom in Remnant. Unless, of course, you are Atlesian and returning to us, in which case, welcome home! Now that you’ve seen what lies beyond, I’m confident you’ll never want to leave again! Those of you travelling from other kingdoms on a first class ticket may be confused by the absence of a first class lounge. It’s quite simple really: here in Atlas, first class is standard class! So please take a seat, and an attendant will be with you shortly to offer you a full selection of hot, cold, or alcoholic beverages — proof of age may be required — as well as snacks, cakes, sandwiches, and hot meals all included in the price.” The hologram looked directly at Blake. “Blake Belladonna, welcome; it appears that you don’t have any accommodation or transport booked; why not use one of our terminals and rectify your lack of forethought before you leave?”

Blake’s ears pricked. “How… how does it-?”

“It accesses your scroll through the network,” Fluttershy explained.

“It can do that?”

“Uh huh,” Applejack muttered. “Sometimes Ah think we got a little too much fancy technology around here.”

Winona barked.

“Jacqueline Apple,” the hologram said, “all dogs must be kept on a lead at all times.”

“And Ah hate it when it does that, too,” Applejack said. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What is the point of that?” Blake asked as they made their way towards the exit. “Other than making people uncomfortable?”

“It’s a security measure,” Fluttershy explained.

“It’s supposed to detect wrong’uns,” Applejack clarified. “Accessin’ their data, findin’ out who they really are, that kind of thing. Ah guess it’s needful, what with shapeshiftin’ White Fang types trying to impersonate Councillors — no offence.”

“None taken,” Blake said evenly.

“But that don’t mean Ah gotta like it, and Ah’ll wager Ah’m not the only one who feels that way,” Applejack went on.

They left the lounge, emerging onto the concourse, which was every bit as starkly white as the lounge, but without the somewhat distracting lighting that shifted colours nearly constantly; Blake wondered if the absence of it here was because the queues of people lining up to buy or collect their airship tickets needed to be able to see in order to work the machines.

As they walked, Blake could hear the terminals talking to the customers.

“Greetings, customer! If you are collecting a pre-booked ticket, press the green ‘Collect Tickets’ icon; if not, select the red ‘Choose My Destination’ icon to choose your destination.”

“Hooray! You have selected a destination! I’m sure you will enjoy your visit to… Mantle. Now it’s time to pay!”

“You’re all set! Enjoy your destination and have a nice day!”

Blake couldn’t help but think they sounded inordinately cheerful; far more so, in fact, than the people using them appeared to be.

“So,” she said, “where are-?”

“YOU’RE BACK!”

Blake’s eyes widened, and her ears pricked up in astonishment, as a pink blur appeared out of nowhere and collided with Applejack, who did very well to keep her feet — and keep hold of Winona’s lead in one hand — in the face of the flying object which resolved itself into Pinkie Pie, dressed in a puffy blue parka and tight lavender pants, with her arms wrapped around Applejack’s neck.

“You’re back,” Pinkie repeated, slightly more quietly this time, before she reached out with one hand to grab Fluttershy, pulling her in so that she had one arm around each of them. “Both of you. You’re back and you’re okay and you’re right here.”

Applejack smiled fondly as she wrapped her free arm around Pinkie. “It’s good to see you too, Pinkie Pie.”

“We missed you as well,” Fluttershy added.

“'Missed you'? It’s not just about missing you!” Pinkie cried. “I mean, I did miss you, of course I missed you, I missed you every single day, but that’s not what this is about! This is about the fact that… that we almost lost you.”

“But we didn’t, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity declared as she strode towards them, wearing a sparkling overcoat of royal blue with buttons fashioned to resemble gemstones and a light grey fur — or faux fur — trim around the hem. “So let’s leave the past behind us and not dwell on old unpleasantness. Our friends are safe; that’s all that matters now.” She turned to Blake. “And I believe that we have you to thank for that, Blake.”

Blake looked away. “I… I didn’t do anything; I was just… there.”

“Oh, you were just there when a rescue mission happened to be going on,” Rarity said dryly. “Well, if you put it like that… I mean, haven’t we all found ourselves in that situation at one time or another, just passing through when people are being rescued in the vicinity?”

Blake looked at her.

“I may not have taken my combat training as far as some,” Rarity added, “but I do know that not everyone can be the one who kicks down the door and cuts the bonds. In the circumstances, I think that simply being there is quite enough, and quite worthy of praise.” She held out one pale, slender hand; the golden band around her wrist glimmered under the lights. “Thank you,” she said. “I only wish I could conceive of a circumstance in which I could repay you.”

Blake took her hand, and was a little surprised by the firmness of Rarity’s grip. “You say that,” she replied. “But I have been wondering about whether I’m really dressed for this kingdom-”

“Well, I wasn’t going to bring it up — it would have been rather rude to have done so unprompted — but yes, darling, your attire is somewhat unsuitable. It won’t repay our debt, but what do you say tomorrow we go shopping for something a little more appropriate?”

Blake smiled, even as she let go of Rarity’s hand. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll look forward to it.”

“Marvellous!” Rarity declared. “I’d offer to make you something, but I’m afraid you need it rather sooner than that. Although I shall probably make you something anyway, because one can never have too many outfits, can one? Anyway, I’ll pick you up at Fluttershy’s, we can go shopping, and maybe see some of the sights of our fair city afterwards.”

Blake nodded. “I… yes, that would be great, I’m sure.”

“Maybe if Rainbow and Twilight are done with their work, we can all meet up,” Pinkie suggested, releasing Applejack and Fluttershy.

“That would be nice,” Applejack said. “But Ah don’t know if it’ll be possible; they said they’re gonna be pretty busy.”

“But you’re going to stick around until they’re not so busy so we can all hang out, right?” Pinkie asked. “You have to! We have to all go to Sugarcube Corner together like we promised! Our first trip as the Spectacular Seven!”

“Um, 'the Spectacular Seven'?” Fluttershy murmured.

“Uh huh,” Pinkie said, nodding eagerly. “There were six of us, but now we have Blake; that makes seven.”

“Pinkie,” Fluttershy said softly. “I’m not sure that Blake-”

“I’m honoured,” Blake said, “to be a part of your group, provided that none of you object.”

Applejack chuckled. “It ain’t our objections we were worried about,” she said. “And yeah, I’ll stick around. We do deserve some kind of reunion.”

Pinkie gasped. “A reunion party, that’s perfect! Applejack, you’re a genius!”

“That wasn’t quite what I-” Applejack began.

“The cab is waiting outside,” said a girl who sauntered up to them. She was tall, taller than Blake, about of a height with Rainbow Dash, with stern grey-violet hair with bangs, cut straight across her forehead, descending to about the level of her eyebrows, with the rest of her hair straight down around her head to just below her shoulders. She was dressed in grey, with only a black belt to add a little variety. Her voice was soft, and rather even, without much in the way of inflections. “Hey, Applejack. Good to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Maud,” Applejack said, taking a step towards her and holding out one hand. “How’ve you been?”

Maud slowly took Applejack’s hand. “I’m good,” she said in that same even tone.

“This here is Blake Belladonna; she’s been workin’ with Rainbow Dash these past few months,” Applejack said. “Helped get me out of a tricky spot too. Blake, this is Maud Pie, used to be mine and Dash’s teammate.”

“I’m also Pinkie’s sister,” Maud said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Blake murmured. “You have the same… eyes.”

“So I’ve been told,” Maud said. “Pinkie, we should go. The meter’s running.”

“Okay, looks like this is goodbye for now,” Applejack said. “See you soon Fluttershy, Blake.”

“See you both tomorrow, darlings!” Rarity trilled.

“It’s nice to see you, by the way, Rarity.”

“Oh, Applejack, you know I’m always delighted to see you!” Rarity said, and as the four of them walked away, she put one hand on Applejack’s back. “But there, I’ve said it, do you feel better now?”

Fluttershy smiled. “I suppose we have tomorrow planned out already.”

“Yes,” Blake said. “Unless… sorry, I didn’t think, did you-?”

“No, it’s fine,” Fluttershy said. “What better way to start than by showing you around Atlas? Anyway, we should probably get going; I’m sure my parents will be waiting around here somewhere.”

“Welcome home, Miss Schnee,” Klein declared jovially as he waited by the side of the waiting car.

Weiss smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Klein,” she said, carefully not saying that it was good to be home. “I’d like you to meet my teammate, Flash Sentry; Flash, this is my family butler, Klein Sieben.”

Klein was a short, slightly portly man with a round face and a slightly large nose; his eyes, at the moment, were a shade of light brown, the same shade of remaining hair that circled the back of his head and, indeed, the moustache that covered his upper lip. The bald crown that was normally visible was presently concealed beneath a hat, just as whatever else he might be wearing was hidden beneath his dark double-breasted overcoat.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Flash said affably.

“Hmm,” Klein murmured as he took a step towards Flash. His eyes turned to a smouldering red as he suddenly thrust his face forward into Flash’s space. His voice hardened and became a harsh croak as he said, “Now listen, sonny, I don’t know what your little game is, but any funny business, and you’ll answer to me, understand?”

“Klein!” Weiss gasped.

Klein’s eyes changed colour again, turning to a bright blue as he laughed a childish giggling laugh. “Sorry, madam, just having a little joke.”

Flash laughed nervously, casting a sidelong glance at Weiss.

“Flash isn’t used to you, Klein,” Weiss pointed out. “Try and bear that in mind.”

Klein’s eyes returned to their usual brown colour. “Of course, Miss Schnee. Forgive me, sir.”

“That’s uh, fine,” Flash said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I told Flash that we’d give him a ride home,” Weiss explained.

“Ah, then allow me to take your luggage, sir,” Klein said, and he seized Flash’s case without waiting to be invited. “Miss Schnee.”

“Thank you, Klein,” Weiss said as she handed over her own case in turn.

As Klein put the luggage in the boot, Flash stepped closer to Weiss and whispered to her, “What’s with the eye colour?”

“It’s… I suppose you could call it his party piece,” Weiss explained. “He can change his voice, his mannerisms-”

“How is he changing his eye colour?” Flash asked.

“I don’t know,” Weiss admitted. “But ever since I was a little girl, he’s always been able to cheer me up by ‘becoming a different person,’ as it were. It’s just something he does and something I appreciate.”

“I… well, I won’t say that I understand, but that’s fine,” Flash replied. “Just so long as he doesn’t actually hate me just for standing near you.”

Weiss chuckled as the two of them made their way into the car. It was her father’s car, which meant that it was spacious and comfortable, without chairs at the back, but rather, a sofa which wound from the door to the back, then around in a blocky U-shape before stopping at the other door. The seats were crushed leather and soft beneath them.

There was a mini-bar propped up against the partition separating the passenger section from the driver, although it was currently empty; however, the glasses marked with the Schnee snowflake were still there, even if there was nothing to put in them.

“Nice,” Flash observed. “Very nice.”

“Mmm,” Weiss murmured noncommittally.

“Is something wrong?” Flash asked.

“No, nothing,” Weiss replied. “I just… it’s nothing.”

Klein, having stowed their luggage, returned to the driver’s seat in the front. “Where to, young man?”

“Number Nine, Frederick Street, please,” Flash replied.

“Of course, sir,” Klein replied, and the car sprung to life, elevating just off the road and beginning to glide above it, guided by Klein’s deft hand on the wheel as he drove them out of the skydock car park and onto the roads. Atlas was not completely friendly to cars — there were quite a few narrow pedestrianised districts where people could move on foot without fear — but there were also roads enough for them to get around unimpeded.

“So,” Weiss said, leaning back on the leather sofa, “do you have any plans?”

Flash hesitated. “Not really,” he admitted. “I guess I’ll just see what happens. You?”

“No,” Weiss replied. “No, I don’t have anything planned. I’m not even sure that I’ll be able to keep in practice.”

“Maybe we could… practice together, sometime?” Flash suggested.

The corners of Weiss’ lips turned upwards slightly. “I’d like that,” she said. “Unfortunately, I can’t guarantee it. I think that I shall have to remain at home for most of this vacation.”

“It’s not enough that you’re here in Atlas?” Flash asked.

“I…” Weiss sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It ought to be, but… I don’t know. I’m not sure what my father… I’m not sure why he’s so anxious to have me back. It may involve a blizzard of tedious social functions, for all I know. He might even want me to sing.”

Flash shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, if you can get away, give me a call. I’d… I’d like to see you.”

“I will,” Weiss promised. “If I can get away.”

The rest of the journey to Flash’s home passed in silence, a silence made awkward not by the company but by the situation — or perhaps better to say, the uncertainty of Weiss’ situation, the questions to which there were no answers, the things that they could not speak of regarding her father and his intent in dragging Weiss back here from Beacon. It would have been difficult to speak freely at the best of times, but judging by the way in which Flash kept glancing at Klein up in the front, Weiss thought that he might also be put off by the butler’s presence. Technically, he did work for her father, after all, and while Weiss knew that Klein would never betray her confidence, she also didn’t want to put him in the position where he would have to lie to her father. For all his faults, or perhaps because of them, Jacques Schnee was not a man to be trifled with, and it was hardly Weiss’ desire to see faithful old Klein thrown out on the street like Laberna had been before him. Once had been quite bad enough; to have it happen again and because of her, because of a position she had put him in… no, she could not bear that. She wouldn’t treat Klein that way; she would not discomfort him that way.

And so she allowed Flash his misapprehension and kept her own counsel until the car pulled up outside of an elegant townhouse in one of the more elegant streets in Atlas.

“This is me,” Flash said as the car came to a stop. “Thanks for the lift.”

“It was no trouble,” Weiss said as Klein got out and began to walk around the car to get Flash’s luggage out of the trunk. “I hope to see you, but if I don’t, have a good break.”

“Thanks,” Flash said. “I… I’d wish you the same, but I’m worried it would come off as clueless or fake.”

“I’ll take it in the spirit that it was intended,” Weiss assured him.

Flash nodded. He opened the door and started to climb out. “Call me, if you can,” he said. “Or even if you can’t,” he added. “I mean, even if you can’t leave the house, we can still talk, right? I’d like… I’d like to know you’re okay.”

And what would you do if I wasn’t? Weiss thought, but did not say. It might have sounded like a discouraging question, and she didn’t want to discourage Flash any more than she wanted to compromise Klein. And besides, it was a good point about their scrolls; just because they couldn’t meet didn’t mean that they needed to have nothing to do with one another.

“I’ll call you when I get home,” she promised.

“Great,” Flash said. “I want to know that… if you need… let me know if… tell me if there’s anything wrong.”

“I will,” Weiss said. It was not a lie, but at the same time… it would depend on what exactly was wrong. It was very gallant of him to clumsily offer his aid like that, but her father was not a monster to be defeated by a gallant knight in shining armour. An eager young man with a good heart could not rescue her from his castle. If it was that easy, she would have rescued herself some time ago.

Nevertheless, her lie — or half-truth — seemed to reassure Flash; he looked a lot better, even smiling as he shut the door, accepted his luggage from Klein, and made his way up the steps towards his own door.

As Klein returned to the driver’s seat, Weiss slipped out and into the front, sitting down on the less comfortable seat beside him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

“Not at all, Miss Weiss,” Klein said as he started the car again. “He seems a nice enough young man,” he added as the car began to move at his instruction.

“Yes,” Weiss said, a slight smile playing across her face. “He is a nice young man.”

“Is he-?”

“No,” Weiss said quickly. “He’s my teammate, and I think it’s rather foolish to mix relations that way.”

“I wasn’t aware there were any rules against that at Beacon,” Klein observed. “Although I know that there are in Atlas.”

“No, Beacon doesn’t have rules against… fraternising within the team,” Weiss agreed. “But perhaps it should. It seems… a little unwise to take the risk, when you still have to work together, put your lives in one another’s hands, even after things haven’t worked out.”

“Assuming that things don’t work out, Miss Schnee.”

“Yes, but one has to account for the possibility,” Weiss said. “I think, to try it, you would have to be either unaware of the risks or else very, very certain that it was going to last, at least until graduation.”

“No doubt you’re right, ma’am,” Klein said in a voice that made it unclear if he really did think that Weiss was right or not. “If I may, I’m glad to see that you have at least one friendly face at school.”

“I’m closer to Flash than to my other teammates,” Weiss admitted, “but I think we’ve reached an understanding. By the end of the semestern we were working quite well together.”

“Really, Miss Schnee?”

“Yes,” Weiss declared proudly. “We were seconded to the Flying Squad of the Valish Police Department and assisted in the capture of a dangerous White Fang terrorist and his associates.”

“That does sound terribly impressive, Miss Schnee,” Klein said. “And I understand that you were involved in that dreadful business with the grimm recently.”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “As you say, it was… not good.”

“Although it could have been much worse, so they say,” Klein added.

“Well, the city didn’t fall to the grimm, which it could have done,” Weiss replied. “So, yes, I suppose you could say that it could have been worse. Although, I think that a horde of grimm emerging out of the ground into Vale itself is probably bad enough.”

“It does make me glad to live in Atlas, Miss Schnee.”

“Because we don’t have an underground for the grimm to come up from?”

“I suppose so,” Klein acknowledged. “But also because it isn’t the sort of thing that one can ever imagine happening here. It just doesn’t happen in Atlas.”

“It didn’t happen in Vale either, until it did,” Weiss pointed out.

“No, but that’s Vale,” Klein said. “Atlas is, well, Atlas, and it always will be.” He paused for a moment. “But in spite of that, are you enjoying Beacon, Miss Schnee? I must confess, there was a time when I was worried about you there. Not because of the physical danger — I know that you’re extraordinarily capable — but because things… didn’t seem to be going so well.”

“You mean when I had to ask my father for help in getting the press off my back?” Weiss asked.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, ma’am, yes.”

“That was… a low point,” Weiss admitted. “But, as I say, I’ve come to an understanding with my teammates, and our performance has improved accordingly. And, although it came at a price, it’s one that I’m prepared to pay.”

“But are you happy there?” Klein pressed.

“Not all the time, no,” Weiss conceded. “But the path to success cannot always be easy; indeed, one might almost say that it should not always be easy. I may not always enjoy it, but I am more convinced than ever that this is the road I want to walk.”

“I see,” Klein said. “And how is Miss Winter, if I may ask?”

“Well, I think,” Weiss replied. “Although her duties mean I don’t see much of her.”

“She, too, has found the road she wishes to walk.”

“Yes, and she’s doing quite well,” Weiss said. “She’s a brevet major now, and on General Ironwood’s staff.”

“I had no idea, ma’am,” Klein said. “Your father doesn’t much mention Miss Winter these days.”

I’ll bet he doesn’t. “How is my father?”

“As successful as ever, Miss Weiss.”

“And my mother?”

Klein hesitated for a moment. “I’m afraid she’s suffering the old trouble again.”

You mean she’s drinking. Weiss sighed. “I see. And Whitley?”

“Oh, Master Whitley is in very high spirits, ma’am.”

“Really?”

“Yes, indeed, Miss Weiss,” Klein assured her. Once more, he paused for a moment. “I know that you’re not overjoyed to be here, but I hope you understand what I mean when I say that I’m glad to see you back. I’ve missed you, Miss Weiss.”

Weiss smiled. “I understand perfectly. Thank you, Klein.”

Shortly after, having passed out of Atlas and up onto the Spur where the self-proclaimed elite of Atlas made their homes, Klein pulled up the car in front of the palatial Schnee Manor. The house that Weiss’ grandfather had built was large enough to swallow entire city districts, a grand expanse built in the Art Deco style, with two wings five storeys high and a centre flanked by four high towers — two at the front and two at the back, just visible from the front — which were too narrow to have anything but decorative value. The driveway itself was interrupted by a raised section, upon which were mounted three pillars, one — in the middle — much taller than the others, and all topped with the Schnee snowflake; they glowed only faintly in the daylight, but come nightfall, they would shine as bright as the stars themselves.

It was a beautiful house. Weiss only wished that that which lay within could be so fair.

“Chin up, Miss Schnee,” Klein urged as he lifted her luggage out of the boot. “I’ll take these to your room, shall I?”

“Yes, Klein, thank you,” Weiss said, and as Klein carried the bags inside, Weiss remained outside for a moment longer, looking up at this immense house.

Immense, beautiful, and yet, like the company whose wealth had financed the house, it had become corrupted. Something wicked had crept in and taken root here.

She did not want to go in. She did not want to enter here. She did not want to come back, she didn’t want to stay, she didn’t want to subject herself to what it meant to live in this house and be a part of this family. But she was a part of this family; she availed herself of the luxuries of being part of this family. And there was a price she had to pay for that. This price.

Weiss took a brief breath and attempted to steel herself as she walked in through the door which Klein had left open for her.

She closed it behind her. It shut heavily, with a solid thump that seemed to seal not only itself but also her fate.

Oh, don’t be melodramatic; it’s only for a little while.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

“Ah, home the hero comes,” Whitley said. Her younger brother was small and slight, with a fragile build that was accentuated — in Weiss’ eyes, at least — by his utter lack of martial training. But while he showed no sign of inheriting any of the warlike talent or semblance of the Schnee family, he did possess their white hair, blue eyes, and remarkably pale complexion. He was dressed like their father in miniature, with a blue-grey waistcoat over a white shirt, dark trousers, and polished shoes.

“Hello, Whitley,” Weiss said dryly.

Whitley approached across the large but largely empty hall, crossing the giant snowflake emblazoned on the floor. “I’d ask if you missed us, but I know that you’re only here because you ran into some trouble at school.”

“So,” Weiss murmured, “you know about that?”

“Yes,” Whitley said. “I was sorry to hear about it, although I don’t see why it bothered you. Accusations of that nature never seem to bother Father.”

“I’m not our father,” Weiss said.

“No,” Whitley agreed. “You’ve got a thinner skin. I also heard that you were in some sort of battle. Was it dangerous?”

“Battles usually are,” Weiss replied.

“Well, thank you for trying to get yourself killed so that I can inherit the company,” Whitley drawled, “but it all seems so very… unnecessary. Why do you need to risk your life in these barbarous brawls when there are so many other people who can do that for you? People… with less to lose.”

“I doubt you’d understand it even if I tried to explain it to you,” Weiss said.

She didn’t even get the chance to explain it to him, because at that moment, their father appeared, descending the stairs towards them. Jacques Schnee, although not a Schnee by birth, nevertheless appeared to possess the features common to the name: the white hair, the blue eyes, although the painting of him as a younger man showed his moustache as black. But then, he had been younger then, and the moustache which had been pencil thin was now rather thicker, so perhaps he had simply gotten older. He was dressed in a white suit with a blue shirt and just a hint of a blue waistcoat visible beneath, with a white tie and a red handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket.

His hands were clasped behind his back, and his smile did not reach all the way to his eyes.

“Weiss, sweetheart,” he said, “how wonderful to see you again.” He crossed the hall to her and planted a kiss upon her cheek. “Welcome home. It’s so good to have you back where you belong.”

Weiss fought the urge to wipe her face. “Hello, Father. It’s good to see you again.”

“Of course,” Jacques said. “Now, you must be tired after your trip, so why don’t you go to your room and rest up for a little while?”

Weiss bowed her head. “Of course, Father.”

“But I’m having a little dinner party at eight, just a few business associates,” Jacques went on. “So make sure that you’re both presentable by then. Sadly, your mother will be too ill to attend, but I’m sure that you’ll both make a good impression. Especially you, Weiss; everyone would be delighted if you would sing for us.”

Weiss sighed. “Of course, Father, I’d be delighted to.”

Welcome home, Weiss.

The Men in Grey Suits (New)

The Men in Grey Suits

“Madame Councillor!”

“Madame Councillor!”

“Are you worried about the vote tonight?”

“Do you think you’ve done enough to retain your place?”

“What will you do if it goes to a second round of voting?”

Novo Aris stopped, turning to face the press pack that shouted at her from the edge of the car park. She smoothed out her lavender jacket and raised her voice so that they could all hear her. “I do not seek to evade criticism, but I say to my friends in the party – and I do have friends in the party – that I and my administration have served Vale to the best of our abilities, have improved the quality of life for the people of Vale, and cannot be held responsibilities for incidents, however tragic, which no one could have foreseen or prevented. I accept this challenge. I welcome it, indeed. At least I shall see who is with us and who is against us, and I call on my friends to support me in the vote tonight, as I am confident they will. And that is all I have to say on the matter; if you will excuse me.” She turned away, ignoring the questions that they shouted at her back as she made her way across the parking lot, her heels clicking on the tarmac.

The King Osric Grammar School was one of Vale’s finest institutes of education; in academic outcomes, it was superior to any combat school and with a far broader range of extracurriculars; the campus was not as large as Beacon’s – how could it be, located in the city as it was? – but it was large enough to allow the school to possess its own theatre, a tall brick building with very few windows but large doors which were presently thrown open to admit the parents and the guests who were presently making their way in.

Novo’s attention was drawn, however, to someone who was not heading into the theatre, but rather standing – loitering, perhaps, might be a more accurate descriptor – outside, with her hands thrust into the pockets of her black leather jacket. She was a girl of average height, an equine faunus with the rare distinction of possessing two animal traits: the ears that sprouted up out of her hair and the tail that fell towards the ground. Her hair, out of which her horse ears sprung, and her curly tail were both alike of a most striking colour, or combination of colours: streaks of red and gold, which even in the evening, with the sun dying and a little light spilling out of the theatre, seemed to burn like fire.

She had her back to Novo, mostly being turned to face the theatre which she made no move to enter, but her hair was very striking, and Novo thought she recognised her nonetheless.

“Pardon me,” Novo said. “But it’s Sunset Shimmer, isn’t it?”

The girl turned, revealing a very striking pair of green eyes which blinked rapidly in surprise. “Yes, my la- ma’am. Yes, ma’am, I… I have that honour.” She straightened up, and her hands slipped out of her pockets. She was wearing that leather jacket over an ankle-length turquoise dress, underneath which her boots looked ever so slightly incongruous.

Novo smiled and spoke softly to put the girl at her ease. “The honour is mine. Vale owes you a great debt.”

Sunset Shimmer had, after all, made herself quite noticeable in the year that she had been at Beacon: she had helped foil the dust robbery at the docks, helped capture Roman Torchwick, and been one of the students sent by Ozpin to reconnoitre Mountain Glenn — after which she had been present at the defence of the Breach and the saving of Vale.

And she had killed Adam Taurus, the leader of the White Fang in Vale.

She was a hero, and though she was not of Valish birth, she was, nevertheless, a Beacon student — a Beacon student who was not particularly tied to any other kingdom in the way that, for example, the achievements of Pyrrha Nikos rebounded to the glory of Mistral, not Vale. That made Miss Shimmer a rare commodity, one which might prove useful in the days ahead.

Sunset looked down at the ground. “I… I did very little, ma’am. I mean, Madame Councillor.”

“Ma’am will be fine, if you prefer,” Novo said. “Although, I’m afraid ‘my lady’ is quite out of the question. This isn’t Mistral, you know.”

“No,” Sunset said, and a trace of a smile appeared on her face. “No, it is not.” She paused for a moment. “If I may-?”

“I’m not an Atlesian general either; you don’t need permission to speak,” Novo told her. “If I didn’t want to speak to you, I wouldn’t have approached.”

Sunset nodded. “Very well, ma’am; I’m surprised to see you here.”

“My niece is playing the Last King,” Novo explained. “And my nephew is… a spear carrier, as I believe; Terramar doesn’t have Silverstream’s talent in performance, but he is the best cricketer in his year. We all have our talents, don’t we?”

“Indeed we do, ma’am, if we can only find it,” Sunset agreed. “But, forgive me, but tonight of all nights… the vote-”

“Is going on right now,” Novo accepted. “Which means that it is past the point at which I can influence affairs, don’t you think?”

Leo’s call for others in the party to consider their positions, and their response to the conflict of loyalties, had not gone unanswered. Since his sensational resignation, he had mustered sufficient aldermen – fifteen percent of the party’s total, as required by the rules – to trigger a contest for the leadership of the party. If he won, then she would be out, he would be party leader, and – provided that he could command the confidence of the Chamber of Aldermen – he would be First Councillor. But, as she had just told Sunset, it was too late to do anything about it now.

“So, it’s either sit at home with a glass of wine waiting for the results to come in, sit in my office without the wine waiting for the results to come in, or support my niece and nephew and get taken out of myself for a couple of hours.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Some might have chosen the wine, ma’am.”

Novo chuckled. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “But between you and me, I am quietly confident about the result.”

The predictions from her office were that she would win by a landslide, avoiding the need for a second ballot. There were some who thought those predictions optimistic, but Novo had seen off tougher opponents than Leo and had every faith that the party would remember what they owed to her and rally round.

“I think you might say the same to anyone whom you thought might pass your words onto the press, ma’am.”

“Too late for that, I think, Miss Shimmer,” Novo said. “May I ask what you’re doing here? This isn’t somewhere I expected to see a huntress.”

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. “I was just thinking that myself, ma’am. I’m here because Skystar invited me, but-”

“Then it would be very rude of you to slip away unnoticed,” Novo said. “If that was your intent.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Sunset admitted.

“My niece and nephew are faunus,” Novo reminded her. “A fact of which I know you are aware.”

Sunset licked her lips. “Skystar told you?”

“That you unmasked that vile brute?” Novo said. “Yes, she told me. Cardin… I thought he was a good man. He fooled me, as he fooled us all-”

“Ma’am, I don’t think-”

“Skystar also said that no sooner had you saved her from him than you started making excuses for him,” Novo interrupted her. “In my presence, I would rather you didn’t.”

When Ocean had gotten engaged to Sky Beak, Novo had told her two things: that some would turn against her for it, no matter how respectable a faunus Sky Beak was; and that she, Novo, never would. She had kept that promise, and she did not intend to break it now, not even a little bit.

“Very well, ma’am,” Sunset said softly.

“So, if you are worried about what people will say, don’t be,” Novo said. “Some fools may think things with which you are no doubt more familiar than I, but none will dare give them voice; the company is too polite for that.”

“It… it isn’t that, ma’am,” Sunset said. “It is…” She trailed off for a moment. Her ears drooped down, and her hands drifted towards her pockets, although they did not enter them. “This looks like a very nice school.”

“One of the best,” Novo said. “If not the best for the relevant age group.”

“Expensive, I presume.”

“Somewhat expensive,” Novo said, in what was something of an understatement.

Sunset nodded absently. “I went to a school like this, once,” she said.

“I would have expected an aspiring huntress to attend a combat school,” Novo replied.

“I did that too,” Sunset said. “But before that… it was a long time ago, and I was quite young, but being here… it brings back memories.” She let out a sort of laugh. “I’m sorry, ma’am; my nostalgia is of no interest to you.”

“I owe you a public and a private debt, Miss Shimmer,” Novo said. “You can babble on for a little while if you wish; you’ve earned the right.”

“Please, ma’am, don’t. I…” Sunset sighed, and her tail hung limp behind her, and her ears disappeared down into her hair. Sunset bowed her hair. “I don’t deserve to be spoken to that way. I don’t deserve your praise. I… I don’t deserve it.”

Novo did not immediately reply. She stared at Sunset, trying to get a read on Miss Shimmer and her responses. Was it the modesty of a true hero? No, she did not think it was; as a politician, you had to be able to read people, and Novo was not reading 'modest' from Miss Shimmer. Rather… was it guilt, or was it fear? She thought it was one of the two, but it was hard to be sure.

“Was it… how was it?” Novo asked softly. “Down in Mountain Glenn?”

Sunset stiffened. “I… would rather not talk about it, ma’am.”

“Of course not,” Novo said. Miss Shimmer was not one of Skystar’s closest friends, but she was, nevertheless, a friend of hers, and one who had seen things that Novo could barely contemplate. She had no desire to traumatise the poor girl or force her to relive anything traumatising. “May I ask you why you were there?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood-”

“Received intelligence of a possible White Fang attack staged out of Mountain Glenn,” Novo said. “I’m aware of that; they admitted as much when they finally came clean to me. And so, instead of using General Ironwood’s Atlesian soldiers or calling upon Valish huntsmen, they sent you: a first year student. How old are you, Miss Shimmer?”

“I’m eighteen, ma’am.”

“Eighteen,” Novo repeated. “And your teammates, have they all passed their birthdays too?”

“… Pyrrha is still seventeen,” Sunset admitted.

“Seventeen, my god,” Novo muttered. “I admire you students of Beacon a great deal,” she said. “When I was seventeen, eighteen, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life, and yet, you have already committed yourself to a solemn and dangerous task.”

“You're very generous to say so, ma’am,” Sunset muttered.

“But you’re still children,” Novo said. “So what the hell was Ozpin thinking, sending you on a mission like that into a place like Mountain Glenn?”

Sunset looked into Novo’s eyes, and Novo could see that there were bags underneath Sunset’s; clearly, the girl was struggling to sleep.

“We volunteered,” Sunset said.

“You are eighteen years old; Professor Ozpin is supposed to possess the wisdom of a greater experience,” Novo said tartly. “So you volunteered; youth excuses a degree of arrogance, especially in a school that sets out to produce an elite. But my question stands, nevertheless: Why did Professor Ozpin allow you to go? He could have refused you, he should have refused you, and found someone older and more capable.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. In a whispered voice, she asked, “What do you want from me, ma’am?”

“I want the truth.”

“The truth?” Sunset repeated. “Or Professor Ozpin’s head?”

Now, it was Novo’s turn to pause for a moment. “The latter would please me,” she admitted.

“Then I cannot help you,” Sunset said.

“I’m not asking you to,” Novo insisted. “All I am asking for is the truth. Why were you sent to Mountain Glenn? Why did Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood keep the warning of an attack a secret from the Council until the last possible moment?”

Sunset closed her eyes. “That… that is not the… I should go.” She turned away.

“Wait!” Novo called, before she could take more than a few steps. “Forgive me, Miss Shimmer; this is… hardly the time. Please, come inside. Accept Skystar’s invitation. As I have said, it would be rude of you to refuse.”

Sunset looked over her shoulder. “I… am not sure I deserve this.”

Novo could not restrain a laugh. “It’s a school play; I’m not sure that deserving enters into it.”

“I am not sure that I deserve your daughter’s friendship,” Sunset clarified in a soft voice.

“It is Skystar’s to give to whom she chooses,” Novo said. “Please, Miss Shimmer, I know it’s an old story with which you will be familiar, but I would hate to think that I’d driven you away.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. At length, she bowed her head. “To make you feel guilty is the last thing that I desire, ma’am.”

She walked back to where Novo waited, and together, the two of them joined the last few stragglers making their way into the theatre.

Skystar was waiting for them in the lobby. “You came!” she said. “Both of you!”

Sunset smiled. “It would have been rude to refuse,” she said, with a glance at Novo.

Skystar’s smile broadened. “This might seem like a weird thing to invite you to, but I wanted to say thank you for what you said to me the other day; it really helped.”

“I’m glad,” Sunset said. “And besides, I’ve never actually seen this.”

“Really?” Skystar gasped. “You don’t do the Vytal Story in Atlas?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “In Atlas, they’re too ashamed of the fact that they lost.”

Skystar frowned. “That doesn’t sound like the spirit of the Vytal Festival.”

Sunset shrugged. “It’s all become so commercialised these days, everyone’s forgotten what it’s really all about.”

“Well, you’ll know what it’s all about once you’ve seen the story,” Skystar declared. “Silverstream’s playing the Last King.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sunset said. “And Terramar is a spear carrier.”

“And a tournament contestant, in the second half,” Skystar added. She looked from Sunset to her mother. “Mom, are you sure it’s okay for you to be here?”

“It’s Leo, darling; I’ve got nothing whatsoever to worry about.”

“A remarkably dismissive attitude to your own chancellor, ma’am, I must say,” Sunset murmured.

“The economic policies of this kingdom for the duration of my time as First Councillor have been of my devising,” Novo said firmly. “Leo’s role has been to vote as I wish him to vote and to do the sums. I’m not afraid of some glorified bean-counter.”

“Mom,” Skystar said, “you don’t have to-”

“Everything has been taken care of,” Novo said. “Haven assures me that it is all in hand.” She smiled. “Now, we should go in, before the curtain rises without us.”

Neither of them offered any further objections, but went in with her to take their seats in the front row of the crowded theatre.

The play was rather good. The quality of these things could be variable, of course, but Silverstream was quite talented, and Terramar managed to stand quietly and not make a fuss; they both deserved the applause of their parents – and Novo and Skystar, obviously. The story was familiar but quite well done. The only sour note was the way that some of the people in the audience started looking at their scrolls and whispering to one another during the second half; Novo had to restrain herself from turning around to shush them.

It was only when the play was over that she emerged to find Aspen waiting for her in the lobby, along with Haven Bay, her private secretary. They both had rather ashen looks upon their faces.

“No- Madame Councillor,” Aspen murmured.

Novo felt a chill around her heart. “I take it the final count is in?” she asked, in a voice which she deliberately kept calm.

“Not as good as we would have hoped,” Haven murmured.

Not as good as you told me it would be, you mean, Novo thought. “What’s the damage?”

“Two hundred and four for you,” Aspen said, which was nearly thirty to forty less than she had been predicted to receive. “One hundred and fifty-five to Leo and nine abstentions.”

“It’s not a bad result,” Haven insisted.

“It isn’t the result you predicted with such confidence,” Novo reminded him.

“No,” he admitted, “but it is a clear majority of the party.”

“But it doesn’t pass the fifteen percent rule,” Novo muttered.

“The what rule?” she heard Sunset ask quietly behind her.

“In order to win outright, Mom needed to get fifteen percent of the possible vote more than the other guy,” Skystar explained.

“Why?”

“Because in order to lead the party, it is necessary to command the confidence of the party,” Novo said in answer, “and a leader who scraped in on fifty one percent of the vote would not be able to do so.”

“As you can imagine,” Aspen said, “the press are waiting.”

“Of course,” Novo said. “Then let’s not keep them waiting any longer. Excuse me.”

Aspen made way for her, falling in behind her – Skystar and Sunset waited behind in the theatre – as Novo made her way across the car park, retracing her steps towards the waiting press pack.

“Madame Councillor-”

“I have only one thing to say,” Novo said, raising one hand to silence the questions. “I fight on. I fight to win.”

“Last night, First Councillor Novo Aris vowed to fight on after narrowly failing to avoid a second round of voting in the Liberal Conservative leadership contest,” Lisa Lavender announced, her voice emerging out of Sunset’s scroll. “However, there are some who doubt that the First Councillor will be able to survive this injury. Our political correspondent, Bear Brandreth, has more.”

“That’s right, Lisa; I’ve spoken to several members of the Aquas camp, supporters of the challenger, former Chancellor Leo Aquas, and there is a very buoyant mood in spite of the fact that they technically lost last night’s vote; they did a lot better than anyone expected, and there’s a real sense of momentum in the air today. That sense of momentum is buoyed up by opinion polling showing that the Liberal Conservative party would be ten points up led by former Chancellor Aquas than it would under the current leadership of Novo Aris.”

“Is there any mood in the party that the First Councillor is responsible for the Breach or the response to the Breach?”

“There is definitely a sense that if the public no longer trust the Liberal Conservatives on national security than that is something to be laid at the First Councillor’s door. The feeling is that the First Councillor has de-prioritised-”

“I didn’t know you followed Valish politics.”

Sunset looked up. She was sat outside in the courtyard, not far from the statue of the huntsman and the huntress that lay beyond the main school hall, and now, Cardin had found her there and stood over her, blocking out the sun with his bulk.

Sunset snapped her scroll shut. “I didn’t,” she said. “But now I do. For now. Do you mind?”

Cardin moved aside, allowing the sun to fall on Sunset once again. He sat down beside her.

“Please, join me,” Sunset muttered.

Cardin took no notice. “Why?”

“Why what?”

Cardin rolled his eyes. “Why the sudden interest in politics?”

“What’s it to you?”

Cardin shrugged. “It would have been something to me,” he pointed out, “before you-”

“Gave you your just desserts?” Sunset suggested.

“Sure,” Cardin growled. “Let’s go with that. It still is something to me.”

“Your grandfather will keep his job either way, won’t he?” Sunset asked.

“You know what I mean,” Cardin said.

Sunset sighed. “I’m interested because I was there,” she said. “Last night, when the first round results were announced, I was there with the First Councillor.”

Cardin frowned. “At the school?”

Sunset nodded. “Skystar invited me to see Silverstream’s play.”

Cardin hesitated for a moment. “How is she?”

Sunset exhaled loudly. Her tail brushed back and forth along the ground. “I think she misses you.”

“Really?”

Sunset nodded. “Not enough to forgive you, right now, but… she misses you. She’s glad you didn’t die at the Breach.”

“That’s not exactly the same thing, is it?”

“Trust me,” Sunset told him, “I know what ‘I hate you but I’m still in love with you’ looks like.”

“Huh,” Cardin replied. “That… that’s a pity.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “'A pity'?”

“Yeah, a pity,” Cardin said, as though that should have been obvious. “Do you think I want Skystar to turn into… you?”

Sunset made a choked sound. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Cardin declared. “And I don’t want Skystar to end up like that. I don’t want… look, I know we’re never getting back together, I know that I don’t deserve to get back together with her after what I said and the way that I lied to her, so… so I want her to be happy. I want her to move on, meet someone else… all that good stuff.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Do you actually believe that, or are you just saying it because you think you should?”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Both?” he suggested. “I mean, if I thought there was a chance that she’d take me back, I’d get down on the ground and beg like a dog, but since that’s not going to happen… she deserves someone who’ll treat her right. Someone who really is all the things she thought I was.”

“You’re a big guy in more ways than one if you really do mean that,” Sunset said. “You’re a better person than me if you really mean that.”

“That’s not hard.”

“Insolence,” Sunset hissed. She scowled. “So… as someone who is plugged into all of this, do you think they’re right? Do you think that the tide is against her?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Cardin said. “There’s no way that it should have been that close.”

“It wasn’t that close,” Sunset pointed out.

“It was too close,” Cardin replied. “She ought to have had that contest in the bag. She ought… she ought not to have faced a challenge at all. It’s ungrateful, apart from anything else, but I guess there’s no sentiment in politics.”

“None in democratic politics,” Sunset murmured.

A monarchy would never have got itself into this position, where the leader was under threat of being hurled from power because a few self-important little men had frightened themselves into thinking that the mood was turning against said leader. But then, you had to be frightened when you yourself might be toppled at any moment – or at short notice, at the very least – upon the whims of the masses. There were weaknesses built into the system all the way down. How were you supposed to find a leader with the courage and integrity to do what was necessary when everything was a non-stop beauty contest? Yes, everyone was blaming the First Councillor for Vale’s lack of preparedness for the Breach, but no one had protested that she was spending money in other areas before, had they? Least of all the people who had been recipients of the kingdom’s largesse?

Vale’s weakness was the fault of all of Vale, yet now, they offered up Novo Aris as a scapegoat and a sacrifice, prepared to cast her out and, with her, all their sins.

If the news reports were right and momentum was against her.

“Ruby doesn’t like her,” she observed.

“Why not?” Cardin asked.

“She said that she doesn’t care about the outlying settlements.”

Cardin snorted. “If that’s true, then where were the Valish huntsmen when the Breach happened?”

"That… is a good point," Sunset conceded.

"I mean, of course, the First Councillor paid more attention to the cities than Middle-of-Nowheresville," Cardin went on, "because guess what: the cities are where everyone actually lives, and in case you hadn't noticed, the city is the one place that has actually come under attack this year, so tell me again how the First Councillor is hoarding huntsmen to defend the cities when the whole reason she's in this mess is because someone persuaded her to let the huntsmen go out and defend the villages instead?!"

"I said you had a good point," Sunset said. "This matters to you, doesn't it?"

"Shouldn't it?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, you just sounded surprised."

"No one made you come to Beacon," Sunset said. "Your grandfather's a judge, your father's a civil servant, you could have followed in their footsteps if politics was so important to you."

"I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie," Cardin said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not interested or that I don't have opinions. Councillor Aris – and I'm not just saying this because she put my grandfather on the Council or because I was hoping to be her son-in-law one day; I really believe this – has been the best First Councillor this kingdom could have asked for. She turned the economy around-"

"I've heard her speak," Sunset said, her mind returning to that rally they had witnessed from far off, in the team's very first trip into Vale together. Celestia, those days seemed far off now and so much more innocent.

"Just because she said it doesn't mean it isn't true," Cardin insisted. "She brought back the industries, she made it so that people could start making money again; you know she was going to take on the SDC?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "No, I didn't. Sounds bold of her."

"It was," Cardin said. "She was going to slap mountain-high tariffs on dust imports so that Vale could afford to start mining its own dust again, maybe even nationalise the Schnee quarries here. She was taking back Vale for the Valish… no offence. But none of that matters now. One thing that she couldn't expect, one thing that nobody saw coming, and it's all washed away. There's no justice in politics. Another reason I preferred to be a huntsman."

Sunset said nothing. She couldn't think of anything to say that would help matters at all.

Except that she could. There was something she could say.

Councillor Aris had asked for the truth, and although she hadn't meant that truth, the fact remained that she had asked for the truth, and the truth… well, the truth might not set her free, but it would save her career, which probably amounted to the same thing, as far as a politician was concerned.

The truth would set her free and send Sunset to prison and damn her in the eyes of Ruby – if not Pyrrha and Jaune and everyone else.

We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.

She could not help the dead. They were dead, as harsh as it might seem to put it thus, and wholly beyond saving. Beyond saving and only intermittently near her conscience to speak true. Their ghosts were her burden to bear, but she would not sacrifice for them, any more than she had sacrificed for them living. But the First Councillor was alive, and Sunset could help her.

She had already cost Skystar her boyfriend and her happiness; she could not, in all good conscience, stand by and cost Skystar her mother's career as well.

Councillor Aris wanted the truth? Then she could have it and save herself.

Sunset leapt to her feet.

Cardin looked at her. "Where are you going?"

"Never you mind," Sunset said, and she ignored anything else that he might have had to say as she set off at once for the garage. Let him think her rude; he'd think much worse than that soon enough once the truth was out.

She walked to the garage to get her bike; her boots beat a rapid tattoo upon the flagstones as she walked. She didn't stop; she didn't say goodbye to Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune. She just walked, straight there, no hesitation. Any hesitation would be fatal. Any attempt to say goodbye would murder her resolve.

This was the right thing. This was what Skystar deserved, who had always shown Sunset such innocent kindness. Kindness which Sunset had returned with misery and the ruin of her happy life.

Now she would make that right.

Now she would make it all right.

“I’m afraid you can’t possibly go on. That was clear the moment you didn’t come through the first ballot. You must step down and let Aspen or Keller run the show. If not, we’ll end up with Leo and that would be a disaster… Don’t get me wrong, I support you. I’d support you until the next election, I’d support you for the next five or ten years, but no one thinks you have a chance of winning. No one wants you humiliated, Novo, you don’t deserve that. Step down, on your own terms. Don’t wait for the push, eh?”

“I’m afraid I don’t think you’d win, Madame Councillor, and your standing may do untold harm.

“I’m afraid you must step down now and let Aspen and Keller run.”

“And of course, one wouldn’t want you to be humiliated in any way, Madame Councillor.”

They had all agreed beforehand. They had all gotten together like little schoolboys behind Matron’s back and agreed the line they were going to take. Then, one by one, the men in grey suits had trooped into her office and told her that she couldn’t possibly win, that she needed to step down for the sake of the party and make way for Aspen or Keller. That nobody wanted to see her humiliated in any way.

As if it wasn’t a humiliation to be confronted one by one by these little men, these insects, these aldermen who would be nothing without her and told that she must step down for the sake of the party!

By the time that the fifth one of them had come through the door, she’d been able to predict perfectly what he was going to say; by the time the tenth one of them had come through the door, she had wanted to scream.

She felt so angry. She felt so… so powerless.

She felt so tired.

By the time she staggered home, unable to bear any more, her arms had been trembling with weakness, her legs wobbling. She had collapsed into an armchair in the sitting room of her official residence.

“Mom?” Skystar asked anxiously as she knelt down in front of her with what looked like a large whiskey held in one hand. “Here, take this.” She held out the glass, but Novo did not take it.

At the moment, she felt as though it would have slipped from her trembling hand.

Skystar frowned as she put it on the coffee table beside Novo’s chair.

“Mom,” she murmured, reaching out to touch Novo’s hand. “Is it… is it over?”

Novo did not respond. She did not want it to be over. She didn’t want it to end like this, defeated not in an election but by whispers and faint hearts within her own party, brought low by treachery. It was unconscionable. It was unfair.

It was unavoidable.

Aspen slipped into the room through the door opposite Novo’s seat, which she had left open as she staggered in. He had no tie, and his collar was open, his suit rumpled as if he had been wearing it for too long.

“I…” he began. “It’s important for me to tell you that I didn’t put them up to that.” He swallowed. “I would never do that to you.”

Novo smiled faintly. “From anyone else, that would seem very disingenuous.”

“'From anyone else'?” Aspen asked.

Novo nodded. She squeezed Skystar’s hand before she said, “Nevertheless, if you’ve come to measure the curtains, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Aspen said.

“Perhaps it should be,” Novo said. “I’d rather you than Leo.”

“Novo-” Aspen began.

“You need to think about who’s going to nominate you,” Novo said. “I’d do it myself, but I’m afraid that would do you more harm than good. You need a heavyweight, someone with gravitas; I’d recommend Keller, but he’s likely to stand himself, judging by how many people mentioned him. You need to find someone popular to lend credence to your campaign.”

“I don’t need nomination papers, and I don’t need a campaign,” Aspen insisted. “Novo, you can still win this, all guns blazing-”

“We don’t have any guns, Aspen; that’s why they want me gone.”

“Novo!” Aspen snapped.

Novo fixed him with her gaze. “The First Councillor of Vale must be a realist.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Aspen said.

“That’s a relief; it looks terrible,” Novo replied dryly.

“I know that we’re having some difficulty rallying the troops,” Aspen conceded. “But if you come out fighting, then the waverers will fall back into line.”

“Not now,” Novo murmured. “Not after today. The Emperor is without his army, Aspen; the battle has been fought and lost.”

Aspen was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to take your place,” he said. “Not like this.”

“It’s not my first choice for how to leave either,” Novo said, “but better you than Leo.”

“Mom, are you sure?” Skystar asked. “Is… is this really it?”

Novo blinked rapidly. She found that there were tears in her eyes. “I… I think it is. I… I wish that it had come under different circumstances, but… but one very rarely gets the chance to decide these things in this line.” She paused for a moment. “I hope that history will be kinder to me than the present.”

Aspen scowled but said nothing.

There was a buzz from the communicator mounted to the wall beside the door, meaning that the police officer on guard outside was trying to reach her.

Novo tried to rise but found that she was still a little too weak for it. “Aspen, would you mind answering that for me?”

“Of course,” Aspen said softly, and he pushed the red button on the metallic wall panel. “What is it?”

The voice of Officer Clark issued into the room. “Pardon me, Councillor; there’s a girl out here who wants to speak with the First Councillor. Says her name is Sunset Shimmer.”

“Madame Councillor!” Sunset called. “I need to speak with you.”

“Sunset?” Skystar asked.

“Miss Shimmer?” Novo said.

“The First Councillor is rather busy at the moment,” Aspen said. “She has no time to-”

“I’m aware of what’s going on, that’s why I’m here,” Sunset insisted. “Please, ma’am, it will be worth your while, I promise.”

“What is this about?” Novo asked, trying to raise her voice.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “I… I’d rather speak to you privately, ma’am, and not like this with me out in the street.”

Novo glanced at Skystar, who shook her head in puzzlement.

Novo took a deep breath. “Very well. Let her in, Clark.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

There was another buzz, indicating that the connection was broken.

“Is this necessary?” Aspen asked.

“It’s not as though I have anything better to do,” Novo reminded him.

Aspen scowled but said nothing. Nothing about that, anyway. He half turned away, before he said, “Sunset Shimmer… she was-”

“A Beacon student, one of those at the Breach,” Novo said. “One of those Professor Ozpin sent into Mountain Glenn.”

Aspen shook his head. “What was that fool thinking?”

“Perhaps Miss Shimmer has come to tell us?” Novo suggested.

Sunset Shimmer arrived soon. She was heard before she was seen, her footsteps heavy on the stairs, her steps slow and rather plodding. She shuffled into the sitting room, wearing out the carpet a little with her boots, her hands thrust into the pockets of her jacket just as they had been last night. Her ears were drooped, almost invisible amongst her hair, and her tail hung limp between her legs.

Her face was pale and a little drawn. Her eyes were cast down to the ground.

If she had not been so young, Novo would have had Skystar offer her a drink.

“Miss Shimmer,” Novo said, “what a pleasant surprise. This is Aspen Emerald, Councillor for the Interior.”

“I think I’ve seen you on television, sir,” Sunset said softly.

Aspen gave a sort of sniff in reply.

Novo took a deep breath. “Would you like something to eat, Miss Shimmer? There’s plenty in the freezer. A cup of tea perhaps?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

“You must sit down, at least, you look…” You look how I feel. “You look very weary.”

“No, thank you, ma’am, I’d prefer to stand,” Sunset said, still as softly as before. “I should stand.” She paused.

“Well?” Aspen demanded.

“Aspen,” Novo chided him gently.

Sunset blinked twice. “I am… sorry, about your difficulties, ma’am. I hear… I’m told by some that you are a very good First Councillor, and Skystar is proof that you are a good mother.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Novo said, “and your sympathies are welcome-”

“I didn’t come here to offer you empty sympathies,” Sunset interrupted. “I’m sorry because…” She closed her eyes. “Because it’s my fault. I’m the one who detonated the mine and opened the way into Vale for the grimm.”

Silence fell in the room as completely as if a second mine had gone off and they were all amongst casualties. Novo, Aspen, and Skystar were all frozen, all staring at Sunset, none of them speaking or reacting.

Novo scarcely knew how to react. In all her years in politics, this was… she had never experienced anything quite like this before.

But then, that in itself had become depressingly common this year.

“I think,” she said, finding her voice at last, “that you had better explain.”

Sunset nodded. “The White Fang had mined the end of the subway tunnel, using the dust that they had stolen over the past year,” she said. “The detonator was left on the train that they were planning to use to transport their men and stolen war machines to attack Vale. The detonator… it had been left for me. I… know the person who left me the detonator, and she knows me; she… she wanted to… she gave me a choice. I had a choice. We’d gotten on the train before we knew about the grimm, and everyone… the emergency exits from the tunnel had been sealed up, we’d passed the last station in Mountain Glenn, there was no way out, I… I had a choice. My teammates, my friends were on the train with me, and I had a choice: condemn my friends or risk Vale. I chose my friends.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to cause you these issues, ma’am. Skystar, I didn’t-”

“‘Didn’t mean’?!” Aspen cut her off sharply. “You didn’t mean to cause these difficulties; what the hell did you mean, then?! Did you just mean to kill us all and leave this city in ruins?!”

“No!”

“You didn’t mind risking the possibility, though, did you?”

“Aspen,” Novo said. “That’s enough.”

“'Enough'?” Aspen repeated. “Novo, she-”

“That’s enough,” Novo insisted. She stared at the girl in front of her. She felt… it was hard to tell exactly what she felt, except that she did not feel angry. Perhaps she ought to have felt angry, on behalf of herself, on behalf of Skystar, on behalf of Vale, but… she did not. “Miss Shimmer, why are you telling me this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sunset asked. “This, the Breach, all of it, it’s not your fault! You can have me arrested, I’ll confess, and this leadership battle and all the rest can go away! You can still be First Councillor-”

“That is very generous of you, Miss Shimmer, but I’m afraid you’re a little late to come riding to my rescue,” Novo told her. She pushed herself up to her feet, gaining strength from necessity. “And in any case, whether you or the White Fang are guilty of setting off the mine doesn’t really change the salient criticism of my leadership: that the Valish forces were unable to respond to the threat that we faced, and we were reliant upon the Atlesians under General Ironwood to protect us. Whoever caused the explosion, those facts do not change.”

Sunset looked rather deflated. Her body sagged forwards, her shoulders slumped; she looked almost as if she might faint right there on the sitting room floor. “I… I’m… I didn’t mean for… I knew the Atlesians were there, I thought they’d save… I hoped they’d save everyone.”

“Did you care if they didn’t?” Aspen demanded.

Sunset glanced at him. “Not enough,” she conceded quietly. She glanced away, looking back down at the floor. “I wish… are you sure that there isn’t something I can do to help you, ma’am?”

“You can face justice,” Aspen said sharply.

Sunset’s chest rose and fell. She screwed her eyes tight shut. “Of course. I can still do that.”

“You could,” Novo said, “but I don’t see the necessity of that.”

“Novo?” Aspen gasped. “I… can I speak to you in…?” He stopped, clearly torn between asking to speak to Novo in private and leaving Sunset alone with Skystar.

“Yes,” Novo murmured. “You may.”

It was hard to imagine someone as wretched as Sunset Shimmer looked at the moment doing anything to hurt Skystar; perhaps Novo ought to have felt more nervous leaving her daughter alone with someone who had just admitted to committing treason, but for whatever reason, she did not. She was not afraid of Sunset, any more than she was angry with her.

She pitied her. She pitied the girl who had had the weight of the world placed on her shoulders and been broken beneath the weight. It was… it was a great pity that she had been put in that situation, and the consequences that had flown from it were even more to be regretted, but that did not negate the pity.

“Skystar,” she said, “you’ll be alright to stay here?”

“I…” Skystar gripped the back of the chair which Novo had been sitting in. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead, Mom.”

Novo nodded to her. “Aspen,” she said, and led the way towards the study.

She was starting to feel… not stronger necessarily, but more in command of herself. Sunset’s words had given her something beyond self-pity and recrimination to focus on, even if that something else was just externalised pity for another.

It was still enough to get her on her feet and into the small study adjoining the sitting room.

Aspen followed her, slamming the door shut behind him. “What in God’s name are you doing? This is-”

“Meaningless,” Novo said. “Miss Shimmer could give her confession, and it wouldn’t save me, not after half the party has lined up to stab me in the front. I couldn’t forgive that, and they wouldn’t expect me to. We have… I have passed the point of no return. And what I told that girl out there was true: her responsibility doesn’t negate my own, real or perceived.”

“So that’s it?” Aspen asked. “You’re just going to give in?”

“I’m going to spare myself the humiliation,” Novo said, with a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice. “I’m going to give you a fighting chance. You need to win, Aspen. You… Vale will be lucky to have you as First Councillor.”

“Vale was lucky to have you as First Councillor,” he replied.

“Yes,” Novo said softly. “Yes, it was. But every sun must set, and a new dawn must rise again.”

Aspen turned away from her for a moment, resting his hands upon the door. “None of which,” he said, turning to face her again, “none of which means that she should be allowed to get away with what she did. She deliberately-”

“‘Must I hang the farmboy who deserts his post when I cannot touch one hair on the head of the reeve or alderman who encourages him to desert?’” Novo asked. “The Last King asked that, in the bleakest winter of the Great War, when his army was snowed in at Valley Forge.”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” Aspen said irritably. “My ancestors were snowed in the same as yours, and they didn’t think of deserting because they understood what was at stake; they understood that freedom, for Vale and for all the slaves they’d left behind in Mantle, rested on the outcome of the war, and so they stuck to their duty.”

“She’s a child, Aspen,” Novo replied. “A first-year student, sent into Mountain Glenn for God’s sake. Sent into Mountain Glenn and a situation where she was asked to lay down her life-”

“That’s what she signed up for,” Aspen spat.

“Spoken with all the maturity of a grown man,” Novo replied.

Aspen frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t blame her for this, any more than the Last King blamed the farmboy.”

“Ozpin,” Aspen muttered.

“He sent her there,” Novo said. “So young and so unprepared.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she pulled the trigger.”

“And what good will it do to lock her up for that?” Novo asked. “Send her to jail for life, put her to death, to what end?”

“Justice?” Aspen suggested. “Obedience to the law? Why shouldn’t she face punishment for what she did?”

“She didn’t have to come here,” Novo pointed out. “She didn’t have to tell me the truth. If she had not, I would never have known.”

“And what of it? It doesn’t wash away her crimes.”

“You were the one who told me revenge was terrible politics when you preached reticence at me not too long ago,” Novo reminded him.

“I didn’t want you to pursue grudges at political cost-”

“You want a political cost?” Novo asked. “The only credit for Vale gained in this miserable affair was the involvement of the Beacon students-”

“She’s from Solitas!”

“But trained here in Vale, along with her teammates,” Novo said. “Trained at Beacon, because whatever the faults of our military, we have the finest school producing the finest huntsmen in all of Remnant, and that, at least, is something that Vale can take pride in.” She sighed. “Perhaps you were right that, for that reason, it would have been a fool’s errand to go after Professor Ozpin as I wished, but if it comes out that one of those Beacon students of which Vale is so proud, a hero of this year’s catastrophes, actually put the city at risk… what will that do? What kind of negativity will that cause? It will… it may do untold harm.”

Aspen held his peace for a little while. “And so… what? She gets away with it? She gets to skate by, to continue training as a huntress when she has already proven herself unworthy of the same?”

“If you are so set on punishing her, then you will be able to do so, once you become First Councillor,” Novo said. “I won’t be able to stop you. But I will not, and I strongly recommend that you consider the potential consequences before you do.”

Sunset didn’t look at Skystar. She was too ashamed to look and too afraid to look for what she might see in Skystar’s face if she did look.

And so she looked away, down at the beige carpet beneath her feet.

“Sunset?” Skystar asked.

Sunset didn’t respond, and she certainly did not look.

“Sunset,” Skystar repeated. “Come on, I’m right here.”

Sunset glanced her way. Skystar’s expression was a little hard to read, which was itself surprising; she would have expected more obvious disgust.

“This… this seems to be a bit of a habit with you,” Skystar noted.

“Hmm?”

“You do things,” Skystar said. “And then you regret it afterwards when you see the consequences, and then you confess to doing it.”

Sunset licked her lips. “I… I guess that’s true.”

“You could always think about the potential consequences beforehand,” Skystar suggested.

“You think I didn’t think about the consequences?” Sunset demanded, and now, she looked Skystar full in the face, her head snapping up. “The consequences were all that were in my mind.”

“You just… didn’t care?” Skystar murmured.

“If I didn’t care, I would have let my friends die out of cold logic,” Sunset muttered. “I cared… I cared about them. I thought that General Ironwood’s forces would save the day.”

That was a lie; she had not been certain that they would do so down in the tunnel; she had certainly considered the possibility that they would not. But there were limits to her honesty; she would tell the truth to save Skystar’s mother’s career, but if Skystar was not inclined to judge her already, then Sunset wasn’t going to give her even more reasons to do so.

“I… I guess they did,” Skystar conceded. “For most of us.”

“Yes,” Sunset whispered. “For most of you.”

“But six people died,” Skystar said. “Because of you.”

“Yes,” Sunset acknowledged. “Because of me.”

“And you only came forward to save Mom’s career?”

“I thought,” Sunset murmured, “that I had caused you enough trouble already.”

“Then how are you going to make it right?”

“By saving other lives,” Councillor Aris said, as she came back in from the other room, with Councillor Emerald following behind her. “Isn’t that right, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “I hope so, ma’am.”

“Don’t blame her, Skystar,” Councillor Aris instructed. “She was too inexperienced for the position she was placed in. But Skystar is right; you will have to repay the debt you owe to Vale, and to Remnant.” She paused for a moment. “You are too late to save my career, but I hope that Councillor Emerald will be chosen as my successor by the party. If so, it is to him that you will repay the debt you owe, and other than to him, you will not speak of this. Neither of you will speak of this.”

“Mom?” Skystar asked.

“For the sake of morale,” Councillor Aris explained. “The valour of the Beacon students is all that the people of Vale may take pride in at this present moment; it is unfortunately true – and it may even be said to be truly my fault – that the police and the defence forces have let his kingdom down, but Beacon Academy and its students have, in the public eye, stood strong. That is why I have not exposed the fact that Professor Ozpin sat upon critical information until the last possible moment, and that is why I will not expose you. This last shred of public confidence must be maintained; it is encouragement that the people need now, not the despair that would come if they knew that one of the students of Beacon who fought to defend them had put them in danger.”

“I… I see,” Sunset murmured. She… she wasn’t… she felt tears coming to her eyes. Tears of relief, as inappropriate as it might be in this company. Yes, there would be a price to pay later, but not a price that would take her away from her friends, from her team, not a price that would… she was saved.

She had not saved Councillor Aris, but she had been saved herself, and that… yes, there would be a price for it, but in the meantime… she was free.

No. Not free. She would never be free of it.

Not free, but safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“Then say nothing,” Councillor Emerald said harshly, “and walk out of here while you still can.”

Polendina (Rewritten)

Polendina

Doctor Japeth Polendina was a man entering the end of middle age, with long hair falling down in waves to his shoulders, carefully brushed back from his forehead and curled around his ears. His hair remained dark, in spite of the fact that his beard was almost completely grey or white with only a few flecks of darkness remaining. His eyes were brown and sharp and fixed upon the three organic members of Team RSPT as they wheeled Penny into the lab on a pair of gurneys.

Rainbow and Ciel pushed the first gurney, with Penny’s actual body on it; for reasons of operational secrecy, they had to wheel her in covered up in a black bodybag – what people thought they were doing, wheeling a dead body around the office of Research & Development, hardly bore thinking about, but if everyone had been able to see Penny, it would have looked even stranger. They had tried to be as gentle as possible as they had carried Penny out of The Bus and then wheeled her down off the landing pad on top of the research building, into the elevator and down the hall; Rainbow wasn’t sure what, if anything, Penny could still feel, but there was no reason not to be gentle with her. Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to avoid the bumps getting the stretcher into and out of the lift.

But they were here now, and now, they could finally unzip the black bag and, together, lift Penny out of said bag and off the gurney and place her on the high-tech examination table. Said table sat in the centre of the lab and had all kinds of scanners and stuff built into it. It was solid and grey, and the surface was white right now, though it would change soon enough once it got turned on.

Penny was completely still. She had been disconnected from the computer and from any drone, so she couldn’t speak. It was all kinds of unfortunate that they’d had to stuff her up in that bag, because she looked… kind of dead already. It was only the light in her eyes that stopped from looking like a corpse.

At least there are no injuries to cover up because they’re too upsetting to look at.

Twilight followed Rainbow and Ciel inside, pushing the second stretcher with the disconnected blades of Floating Array laid out upon it.

The lab to which they had brought Penny and her weapons was cold, grey, and metallic, with the only spots of subdued colour coming from the computer monitors that lined four out of the six walls of the hexagonal chamber. The lighting was subdued, leaving Doctor Polendina in his pristine white lab coat to stand out all the more in the room. His stare was more like a glare as the two huntresses and Twilight brought in Penny in all her pieces.

Rainbow and Ciel both stood to attention. Although Doctor Polendina wasn’t an officer, he was a senior member of the R&D division and was entitled to respect on that basis.

For now.

Twilight didn’t stand to attention; she’d been a part of Doctor Polendina’s team working on Penny, so he knew that she wasn’t any kind of huntress and wouldn’t expect her to act like one. Instead, she crossed the room to stand by Moondancer, the only one of Doctor Polendina’s assistants who was here today, where she lurked in the corner.

“Team Rosepetal reporting, sir,” Rainbow said.

Doctor Polendina glowered as he made his way over to the examining table. “Penny. Oh, Penny, what have they done to you?” He glowered at Rainbow Dash. “What have you done to her?”

“Doctor, this isn’t Rainbow Dash’s fault,” Twilight murmured.

Doctor Polendina ignored her. “Are you the team leader?”

Rainbow’s face was without expression. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Then this is your fault,” Doctor Polendina said. “Your job is to protect my daughter; that is your only job! How could you let this happen?”

“My report-”

“I have already read your damn report; I know what happened!” Doctor Polendina snapped. “I want to know why you let it?”

“Sir-” Ciel began.

“Quiet! I’m not interested in what you have to say, I don’t even know who you are, I’m talking to the leader, not the…” He waved one hand dismissively. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I made a decision,” Rainbow said, her voice even. “That decision turned out to be… a mistake.”

“'A mistake'? A mistake is an understatement. Your orders were to keep my daughter safe!” Doctor Polendina yelled. “If you can’t do that, then I will see you tossed out on your ass and find someone who can do the job they were selected for! That goes for both of you.”

“This isn’t Cadet Soleil’s fault, sir,” Rainbow said. “She followed my orders and performed her duties to the best of her abilities-”

Doctor Polendina held up one hand to silence her. “You,” he said, snapping his fingers at Ciel. “Are you alive?”

Ciel blinked. “Sir?”

“It’s a simple question,” Doctor Polendina declared impatiently. “Are you alive, or am I talking to a ghost?”

What kind of question is that? Rainbow thought.

“I am alive, sir,” Ciel said.

“Then you didn’t do everything you could,” Doctor Polendina growled.

Twilight gasped. “Doctor?!”

“Sir!” Rainbow cried. “I must protest. That’s out of line!”

“'Out of line'?” Doctor Polendina repeated incredulously. “You bring my daughter home broken, and you tell me that I am out of line? You do not have the right to tell me what is or is not out of line in my own laboratory!” He turned away, his lab coat swirling behind him. “Twilight, it’s good to see you again.”

Twilight nodded. “Likewise, Doctor.”

“The lab has been a little less bright in your absence,” Doctor Polendina said. “I’ve been starved of intellectual conversation.”

Twilight let out a slightly nervous laugh, even as she kind of turned away from Doctor Polendina so that she was half-facing Moondancer instead. “That’s very kind of you to say, Doctor, but I’m sure that Moondancer-“

“Doesn’t come out of her shell as much when you’re not around, do you, Moondancer?” Doctor Polendina said. “She shuffles about, does what I instruct her, answers my questions, but she doesn’t think for herself. You must learn to think for yourself, Moondancer! A good scientist must be an iconoclast, and a good iconoclast must be courageous!”

“Yes, Doctor,” Moondancer murmured, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched.

Moondancer Crescent had the pale complexion of someone who didn’t get out in the sun very often; her purple eyes were framed by a pair of glasses rounder than Twilight’s spectacles but with thicker rims; they’d broken at the bridge and been stuck back together with so much white tape, the original bridge was invisible. Her hair was mainly auburn but with a streak of lavender and purple going straight down the centre, lining up perfectly between her eyes. Her lab coat was half-open, revealing underneath a badly-fitting dark grey sweater that was starting to shed fluff like a cat.

She glanced at Twilight. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

Twilight smiled with one corner of her mouth, making it look as nervous as it was encouraging.

“Moondancer, would you mind putting those swords on the workbench on the right, please?” Doctor Polendina said. “We won’t start any work until I’ve completed my examination and analysis of Penny.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Moondancer said as she left Twilight’s side and crossed the lab to where Twilight had left the gurney with the swords on it. She didn’t look at either Rainbow or Ciel, but calmly moved the swords from the gurney onto the workbench as quickly and efficiently as she could.

“Thank you,” Doctor Polendina said. He stood over Penny, looking down upon her while Penny had no choice but to look up at him, paralysed as she was.

“Unacceptable,” he said, shaking his head so that his hair flew from side to side behind him. “Absolutely unacceptable. You should be better than this, Penny, and you…” He rounded upon Rainbow and Ciel. “I trusted you with Penny because I was told that you could be trusted! Ironwood assured me that…” He paused, running both his hands through his hair. “Do you have any idea what Penny is?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said quietly.

“No,” Doctor Polendina said. “You don’t. How could you? How could either of you?” He looked at Twilight. “I’m a little disappointed in you, Twilight; I thought you understood.”

“Twilight wasn’t there, sir,” Rainbow informed him. “As my report states.”

“Ah, yes, yes, I remember now,” Doctor Polendina said, “Twilight, you remained behind, didn’t you, that was very wise. Perhaps the only sensible decision in this whole wretched endeavour.”

“Doctor,” Twilight said timorously. She clasped her hands together over her chest, dry-washing them as she spoke. “Are you… how are you feeling?”

Doctor Polendina sighed. “Angry. Distressed. My daughter is lying on my table in this state; how do you think I feel?”

“Have…?” Twilight trailed off. She licked her lips. “I’m sorry to ask—”

“You want to know if I’ve been taking the pills?” Doctor Polendina suggested. “If that’s what you mean to ask, Twilight, then just spit it out, don’t stand there stammering. Courage, Twilight!”

“Yes, Doctor,” Twilight said softly. “So, have you been taking your medication?”

“The pills dull my mind, you know that,” Doctor Polendina said. “It’s bad enough that I have to be reminded of something I read a few days ago, but…”

He began to walk away from Penny, approaching a desk which sat, laden with paperwork, towards the back of the lab. And as he walked towards it, Doctor Polendina began to speak quietly to himself. “Sinusoidal signals and responses to them of a linear system are the basis of acoustic systems. This introduction gives a brief summary of mathematical expressions for sinusoidal functions that develop the basic… develop the basic… come on, I read this when I was a graduate student, and I’ve been able to recall every word of it ever since. This introduction gives a brief summary of mathematical expressions for sinusoidal functions that develop the basic… the basic…”

He let out a wordless growl of frustration as he flung out his hands, sweeping the papers off the desk and flinging them across the room, engulfing the lab in a flurry of white sheets as if it had been caught in a sudden heavy snowfall. Anything heavier than paper crashed to the floor with clangs and bangs and clatters.

“Doctor!” Twilight cried.

Doctor Polendina leaned upon the suddenly empty desk with both hands. “I… I’m dying,” he announced.

Rainbow glanced at Ciel. It was clear from the widening of her eyes and the way that her mouth was slightly open that this was as much a shock to Ciel as it was to Rainbow Dash. “I… we didn’t know that, sir,” Rainbow murmured. “General Ironwood didn’t-”

“I haven’t told General Ironwood,” Doctor Polendina said. “If I told him, if I told my colleagues, if I told the Director of Research and Development, I’d be put on leave, told to go home, get some rest, put my affairs in order. Prioritise my wellbeing. Take care of myself.” He spat those last two statements as though the sentiments that they contained were worthless — or worse, actively insulting.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t be so pessimistic,” Moondancer murmured. “The experimental treatments—”

“Are just that, experimental, unproven—”

“'A good scientist must be an iconoclast,'” Twilight said softly.

Doctor Polendina laughed. “Very good, Twilight. An iconoclast indeed, and courageous; that’s why I’m submitting myself to an ever-growing list of quackery and unreviewed research, but…” He paused for a moment. “I do not seek death. I will not submit to its embrace lightly, but nor will I live in denial about my chances any more than I will go home and spend what could be my last days pottering about like a race horse put out to pasture. I have dedicated my life to the greatness of Atlas, and I will continue to do so as long as I am… as long as I am alive. That is why I am keeping my condition a secret. Aside from my personal physician and his team, the only people who know are my brother Pietro, Twilight, and Moondancer. And now, the two of you.”

“The three of us,” Rainbow said. “Penny can’t speak, but she can hear everything.” Rainbow glanced at Penny, where she lay on the table. It was probably all in her head, but she almost thought that if Penny could speak, she would be screaming right now.

Doctor Polendina looked around. He looked as surprised to be told that Penny could hear him as Rainbow had been surprised to hear that Penny was dying. “Penny, I… I thought you’d put her to sleep. Twilight, why didn’t you put her to sleep?”

“There didn’t seem a need, Doctor,” Twilight said.

“No need? What need was there to keep her awake so that she could hear everything?”

“I don’t like turning her off, Doctor,” Twilight said, her voice rising. “I don’t like the fact that we can switch off a person by command, even with her consent. And in her present state, we can’t ask for her consent. And besides, Penny preferred being awake. I hooked her up to a computer on the Hope so that we could talk on the way back and connected her sensors to a drone so that she could watch the final approach to Atlas. Penny preferred that to being shut down for days.”

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. “I see,” he said quietly. “You … you are a good girl, Twilight, kind and considerate; Penny is… Penny will be lucky to have you.”

Twilight looked away from him. “Doctor, I really think that you should take your medication.”

Doctor Polendina shook his head. “I need to be able to think. It’s bad enough that my memory is slipping away from me, but when I take the pills, it’s like a fog has come down over my mind. I… I don’t need a stable temperament to work on Penny, I need my intellect at its fullest… and I need your help, both of you, especially as I start to… I need you to pick up my mistakes and anything that I might miss, and I need you to bear with my moods, even if that’s difficult. Can you do that, Twilight? I need you to do that, and so does Penny.”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Of course, Doctor.”

“Sir…” Ciel began. “Why are you telling us this?”

“Because, since I appear to be stuck with the both of you, at least until the Vytal Festival is over, I need you both to understand,” Doctor Polendina said. “Penny is more than just my creation, more than just my daughter, more than just a soldier or a weapon; Penny is... Penny is the last and greatest gift that I will ever bestow upon the Kingdom of Atlas. Penny is my legacy, she is that for which I will be remembered and that which will benefit this kingdom long after I am gone, Penny is… Penny is everything.”

And what if she doesn’t want to be? Rainbow wondered.

Doctor Polendina went on. “I have always been glad to serve this kingdom. Atlas is… Atlas is a light of knowledge and science and progress amidst a world which is still awash with backwards ideas and nonsensical traditions. In Mistral, they cling to their past because they know in their heart of hearts that they have no future worth speaking of; in Vale, they haver between a past that is gone beyond recall and a future they fear for its uncertainty, shuffling awkwardly between both, taking one step forward and two steps back; in Vacuo, barbarians dwell amidst sandy wastelands, scavenging for scraps and scraping for water in the dirt. Only here in Atlas do we embrace the true gods of knowledge and reason. Only here in Atlas do we truly move forward, not only for ourselves, but for all others who share in the gifts that we bestow, like… like angels in the old myths. I am proud of all the good that we have done, and of the contributions that my work has made towards that good, but none of it compares to Penny. Yes, the circumstances of her creation make her difficult, if not impossible, to reproduce; yes, my vision was circumscribed by time and budgetary limitations; yes, if I had unlimited resources, I would do things differently, but what I did… what I did was to not just create life itself, but life imbued with capability and purpose from the outset. Penny carries my name, and so long as that name lasts, then I will be remembered long after I am gone. She is the culmination of everything that I have done, all my research and my experimentation, all the years spent learning my craft, refining my skills, testing my ideas, it has all led to this. To her.

“That is why Penny cannot fail. That is why I will not allow Penny to fail. That is why you cannot allow Penny to fail. That is why the Vytal Festival is so… so vital; I need the world to see Penny for the wonder that she is, I… I need it.”

“And what about her, sir?” Rainbow asked. “Have you talked to her about any of this?”

Doctor Polendina straightened up and looked at Rainbow Dash. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve got some big plans,” Rainbow said. “What if they aren’t what she wants?”

“This is what she was created for,” Doctor Polendina declared.

“But… she’s a person, sir,” Twilight reminded him. “She has aura, a soul, free will. She isn’t just an instrument of… of our will.”

“What are you saying, Twilight?”

“Twilight’s asking whether this is what Penny wants, sir,” Rainbow said.

“I’m suggesting that we ought to consider it,” Twilight suggested, modifying Rainbow’s language somewhat.

“To what end?” Doctor Polendina demanded. “So that if Penny wants to do something other than that for which I created her, she should be allowed to? Twilight, you have a… you have a sister, don’t you?”

“A brother, Doctor,” Twilight said. “I have an older brother.”

“Older, yes, older brother,” Doctor Polendina muttered. “Moondancer, do you have any siblings?”

“No, Doctor.”

“What about you, Crash?”

“Dash, sir, and no.” She didn’t want to talk about Scootaloo with Doctor Polendina, at least not before she was clear why he was asking.

“You?”

“Yes, sir,” Ciel said. “I have six younger brothers.”

“Younger brothers, yes, good, and suppose that one of your younger brothers no longer wished to apply himself to the limits of his potential, suppose that he wished to waste his life and the treasure of his time in idleness and frivolity, would you allow it? Would you let it pass because it was what he wanted? Would you observe it without comment?”

“No, sir,” Ciel admitted. “Not without comment. My comments would range from disapproving to… fiercely disapproving, depending on the exact nature of the behaviour involved, the company kept, the place concerned. I would prefer to see my brothers become virtuous and upstanding citizens.”

“Precisely! You have some rudiments of sense after all!” Doctor Polendina proclaimed. “Just because something is wanted does not mean that it is desirable, just because Penny does not want what she was made to do doesn’t mean that she should be allowed to do something else just because she wants it. I have a brother, Pietro, a mind almost as sharp as my own, talents almost my equal, so much ability to do good for Atlas, but what does he do? He lives in Mantle, in Mantle, down in the dirt, fitting prosthetics to mine workers. Anyone could do that! A fourth-year medical student could do that; you could program robots to do that! All the things that only Pietro can do, all the things that only his intellect could conceive, all wasted and for what? Forget for a moment the vast sums of lien that have been spent to make Penny a reality, I will not see her gifts thrown away like my brother's, not while I have the power to see it otherwise.”

Rainbow took a deep breath. “Penny… Penny doesn’t belong to you, sir,” she declared. “Nor to any of us. Only to herself.”

“Penny belongs to Atlas,” Doctor Polendina replied. “As do you, so long as you wear that uniform.”

“I can choose to take the uniform off if I want to.”

“Good for you; I can arrange it very easily if that’s what you desire,” Doctor Polendina said sharply. “But Penny, thank goodness, does not have that option. Though this city is full of wasters forgetful of the debt they owe to the kingdom that has nurtured and protected them, I will not have Penny join their number. What was she doing in Mountain Glenn?”

“Huh?” Rainbow said, thrown by the sudden change of subject.

“What was she doing in Mountain Glenn?” Doctor Polendina repeated. “What were any of you doing in Mountain Glenn? That was in no way a suitable mission for Penny or for students at all.”

Rainbow glanced at Ciel. “That’s… classified, sir.”

Doctor Polendina folded his arms. “Don’t play games with me; I have vermillion-level clearance.”

Rainbow swallowed. “And this information is classified beyond vermillion. And General Ironwood will confirm that.”

Doctor Polendina looked down at her in silence. “You’re dismissed,” he said, as he turned away. “I have work to do.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Penny and mouthed ‘we’ll be back’ to her, before she and Ciel turned away and marched out of the laboratory.

Rainbow didn’t say another word as they walked down the corridor back the way they had come, ignored by the scientists in lab coats passing this way or that, until they reached the elevator, which was empty until they stepped inside.

She pressed the button for the roof, where their airship was waiting.

Only once the doors closed, and the lift began to move smoothly up the building, did Rainbow say anything.

With her arms folded, standing on the other side of the car from Ciel, she said, “You could have backed me up a little bit there.”

Ciel kept her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. “Doctor Polendina made a rather compelling analogy,” she said.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You think?”

“Doctor Pietro Polendina does waste his talents,” Ciel sniffed.

Rainbow frowned. “Do you think the people with the prosthetic arms feel that way?”

“As Doctor Polendina said, many less talented could perform such routine work.”

“Maybe they could,” Rainbow allowed. “But they aren’t.”

Ciel glanced at her. “Since when did you start sounding like a Happy Huntress?”

“Hey!” Rainbow snapped. “Do not lump me in with the Happy Huntresses or anything like that; I am nothing like Robyn Hill! I’m just saying that… look, there are places in the kingdom that are pretty deprived, and where if someone were to come in offering to make your life a little better, you probably don’t ask if that’s the best use of their talents. You’re just glad that someone showed up.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I suppose you have a point. However, it does not detract from Doctor Polendina’s larger point. If one of my brothers sought to take a crooked or unworthy path, I would do all I could to dissuade them.”

“Would you force them to do something they didn’t want to do?”

Ciel snorted. “I will not suffer disapproval upon this point from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are the most controlling person I know,” Ciel declared.

Rainbow made a wordless sound of outrage. “What? What are you talking about?”

Ciel gave Rainbow a sideways glance. “Would you be happy to see your friends become huntresses?”

Rainbow’s mouth opened, and then closed again silently. When she opened it again after that, she was able to get words out, “That is completely different.”

“Is it indeed,” Ciel murmured.

“Yes!” Rainbow snapped. “I never sat down any of my friends and told them that they had to do a certain thing with their lives, I never called them ‘my legacy,’ I never talked about them like the most important thing about them was how it reflected on me, and I certainly never acted like I owned them! Yes, okay, I would ‘do all I could to dissuade’ Pinkie or Rarity from becoming huntresses, because guess what, you can die doing this; if you’re not strong enough, or fast enough, if you don’t know what you’re doing, or if you don’t have the right attitude, then you can die. But I would never, ever force any friend of mine to do something that they didn’t want to do because it would make me look good.”

“Do we not each have a task?” Ciel asked. “What is Penny’s, but to serve Atlas? It is literally what she was created to do, at vast expense.”

“But what about what Penny wants; don’t you care about that?”

“Of course I care!” Ciel snapped, rounding on Rainbow. “Do not dare suggest otherwise. I care as much as if Penny were of my own blood, but… we must confine our wishes within the limits of the world in which we live. If one of my brothers wished for a pair of wings to sprout from his back, I could not give them to him with the strength of my affections. If Penny were my sister out of my mother’s womb, I would give full weight to her desires, limited only by what was right and proper and due concern for her reputation, but it is not so. Penny is not… she is not ours to do with as we will.”

“Nobody owns Penny.”

“Her father does, and so does Atlas.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Rainbow asked. “When Twilight asked me if we were making a slave, I didn’t buy it, but now… how is that not exactly what we’ve done? How is that not exactly what she is?”

“I would think a faunus would have more care not to diminish the horrors of real slavery,” Ciel said. “If this is slavery, it is more comfortable than the most comfortable lies that ever the slave-owners of Mistral spun about the condition of the faunus.”

“But she isn’t free,” Rainbow said.

Ciel frowned. “Perhaps not,” she allowed. “But we cannot make her so. Therefore, if we love her, then our best course is to not encourage her to dream beyond the realms of possibility, but to accommodate herself and find such happiness as she may within realistic limits, as we all must. There comes a time when we must all put aside childish wishing and set our sights on what we know can be. And we will serve Penny better by remembering that than by throwing futile tantrums that her condition is not as we would like.”

“So you don’t like it.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “There is nothing to be done.”

Really? Rainbow thought. We’ll see about that.

But first, we have to see what Penny actually wants.

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: Another chapter to get pretty much completely rewritten, combining elements of the previously titled 'Penny's Destiny' as well as later chapter 'Limitless Potential'.

Doctor Polendina has become... not less obnoxious, but obnoxious in different ways, and arguably with more cause to be upset at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow being upset back at him is a new thing, as is her desire to help Penny and the argument with Ciel that closes the chapter.

Atlas (Rewritten)

Atlas

A little faunus girl from Mantle going to the city of dreams.

As she walked down the street, with Fluttershy on one side of her and Rarity on the other, Blake found herself thinking about Ilia Amitola.

They hadn’t seen each other in a few years now; Adam had taken Blake to Vale, Ilia had remained with the Mistral Chapter. Skilled as she had been, there was a good chance that Ilia was dead now. Life expectancy in the White Fang could be as short as it was down any Atlesian mine; even the very best tended to die before their time: gunned down, cut down, bombed, devoured by grimm, all lost to the hazards of the huntsmen, the Atlesian military and the monsters of the night.

Perhaps Ilia filled a shallow grave somewhere in Anima; perhaps there wasn’t enough of her left to be so disposed of; perhaps she still lived and fought for the White Fang’s cause; perhaps she still lived and had seen the folly of their ways as Blake had. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; the truth was that Blake had no way of knowing for sure, or of finding out.

But as she walked down the street, with the cold air nipping at her face and nibbling at the tips of her cat ears, Blake thought about her and her story.

She’d found it incredible at the time, the rules that Ilia had consented to obeying, the shackles that her parents had sought to place upon her, the way that she had denied who and what she was in the name of fitting in.

Blake had listened to Ilia’s story and found it impossible to believe that Ilia — that anyone — could have failed to resent the imposition involved in such self-denial. Of course, she had then been hypocrite enough to start engaging in just such self-denial herself during her first semester at Beacon but only, so she had told herself, out of absolute necessity.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to believe Ilia when the other girl had claimed it wasn’t hard.

Especially if it meant being in Atlas.

It was the tone of her voice that Blake remembered most of all: the lingering longing as Ilia said the name of Atlas, the city of dreams; the way she said it, it almost sounded as though it were not a place but an idea to strive for, a kingdom of heaven built on Remnant. So different from the scorn and hatred with which Adam had spoken about his home; it had seemed impossible to think they could be speaking of the same place or to conceive why anyone would speak of the infernal pit of Adam’s memories with Ilia’s lovelorn sighs.

It had been impossible for Blake to believe that any place, still less a place so racist that Ilia’s only chance to dwell there had been to deny her race, could inspire such feelings.

Of course, Rainbow Dash spoke that way as well, something that Blake had found equally hard to believe as Ilia’s nostalgia at first. Now that she was here, now that Fluttershy and Rarity were showing her all the wonders of the technopolis amongst the clouds, Blake found herself starting to get it.

It must be wonderful to live here as yourself without having to hide, to be accepted in this place where it seemed like anything was possible and life could only get better.

The city flew. The city was flying. The clouds were not only above, forming vague shapes before getting blown away by the passage of the angular cruisers proceeding on their stately passages overhead, but beneath them too, and all around them as the floating city nestled in their midst like a particularly rocky cuckoo in the nest.

Blake and her companions passed a robot using an extendable clawed hand to pick up litter off the sidewalk, and as they sidled around it, the android had given a courteous nod of its inhumanly square head. “Good day, ladies.”

Blake stopped and stared at it. “Uh, thank you.”

“No, thank you, Miss,” the cleaner-bot said, before resuming its litter picking.

Blake watched it go along its merry way. “That… that was politer than the hologram at the skydock,” she observed. “Do all the robots talk in Atlas? And so politely?”

“A lot of them do, yes,” Fluttershy said. “My parents’ vacuum cleaner is very polite when he’s asking me to move my feet out of the way, but Rainbow was so annoyed by her toaster that she, um…”

“There was a little bit of an accident,” Rarity explained. “Involving Rainbow, the toaster, and a lump hammer. Twilight fixed it up, but then there was another accident, and she ended up scavenging it for parts.”

“Huh,” Blake said as she continued to look at the litter-picking robot. For a moment, she wondered why they still needed faunus to work the mines of Mantle, but then she remembered that faunus were cheaper than robots, and in some ways more durable as well, able to recover from injuries that would break an android beyond repair.

And faunus labourers don’t cost anything for the SDC to replace.

“Blake?” Fluttershy asked. “Are you okay?”

Blake realised that she must have been showing something of her thoughts upon her face and quickly forced her expression into something more neutral, even as she covered her mouth with her scarf against the bracing breeze. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Is it always so cold around here?”

“'So cold'?” Fluttershy asked. She was dressed for the weather in a turquoise overcoat with a lilac belt clinching her waist and bands of the same colour around her cuffs. In fact, lilac was the dominant colour of all Fluttershy’s accessories, including the mittens enclosing her hands and the beanie sat loosely atop her head. “Oh no, when fall really starts, it's going to get much colder around here; I’m almost glad to be spending the autumn in Vale for the Vytal Festival … except that means I won’t be able to adjust to the cold before winter gets here.”

“How bad is it?”

“Oh, it’s never allowed to get too bad,” Rarity said. “In fact, thanks to the city’s heating grid, it can often be quite pleasant, even in winter, but they do turn the temperature down enough to allow a little snow from time to time. Not enough that anyone gets snowed in or put at risk, but enough that there is a decent layer for children to play in for a few days or a couple of weeks.”

Blake looked around, at the towering structures of glass and steel that loomed over her head, rising like stalagmites into the sky. “I’m a little surprised that the city puts up with the disruption just to let kids have some fun.”

“It isn’t just for that,” Fluttershy conceded. “Twilight explained that … well, I don’t really understand it myself, but apparently, it isn’t healthy for us or good for the heating grid to keep it running at maximum all the time; we need to conserve the systems to make sure they don’t wear out unexpectedly, and allow time for routine maintenance. And besides, if we melted all the snow that fell on Atlas, then Low Town would get too much rain at once.”

“What?” Blake asked, not understanding.

“When the snow melts, the water falls down to the city below like rain,” Fluttershy explained. “It’s the only weather they get, living in our shadow like they do.”

I wonder if they enjoy the slight variation in their weather routine or curse it, Blake thought.

“Speaking of the weather,” Rarity said, “we were going to help you find something more suitable to wear, weren’t we?”

Blake shivered a little. “Yes, that might be a good idea.”

Rarity smiled. “I know just the place. Follow me, darlings!” She strode off, leaving Blake and Fluttershy to follow in her wake as swiftly as they could.

They followed her down the wide thoroughfares and the bustling streets, beneath the shadows of the towering structures and past the robots diligently working to keep the streets and windows clean and the city on the move; Atlas, Blake observed, was a city of many parts, and none of the parts that she observed matched Adam’s rancorous description. She had no doubt that something like the hellish place that he described existed, perhaps in the Low Town dwelling in perpetual shadow of the city amongst the clouds, living around the ever-growing heap that was the refuse of those literally and figuratively set above. But not here. Not when she was amongst the clouds herself.

Here, she could see why Ilia had been so enamoured of Atlas. Here, she could almost see why her old friend had described it as a city of dreams. Atlas, as she walked through it in Rarity’s wake and with Fluttershy by her side, seemed almost like a place where anything was possible.

Atlas was a city of technology. Blake had always known that, everyone knew that; even more than martial force, Atlas prided itself as an exporter of all the most advanced technology, on being the workshop of the world, the place that had given Remnant not only the CCT network but all of its other modern wonders that so enriched the lives of everyone who dwelled within the kingdoms.

But being in Atlas itself, standing on the sidewalk of Remnant’s self-proclaimed workshop, brought home to Blake the fact that this was no idle boast. Every building was a cathedral to the worship of science and technology; it was like an entire city modelled after the CCT tower (of course, the tower was modelled after the city, but Blake’s thoughts went to that with which she was more familiar), where even the shopping malls had a sepulchral feel to their architecture and design.

Everything was modern; there were a couple of stores they passed with a faux-antique front, but in design, in construction materials, everything looked as though it had been built within the last few years using the most advanced techniques and cutting edge materials. Blake would seriously not have been surprised if Fluttershy had turned around and told her that they tore everything down after about five years and built it all from scratch so that it never got old.

Small hordes of robots toiled unseen, unthanked, and unregarded by the people milling around them: they picked the litter; they swept the streets; they scaled the vertical sides of the towers of glass and stone with spidery legs to wash the windows until they sparkled; they controlled the flow of traffic on the roads; they patrolled the streets and plazas. Some of them, like the litter pickers with one clawed hand and the other holding a bag, looked human, or at least they looked humanoid; some of them, like the rolling street sweepers or the little security ancilla that looked like bins on wheels, that Blake only recognised were robots when she saw one of them ram into a pick-pocket hard enough to knock him off his feet before tasering him, did not look human at all. Of the vast variety of droids Blake saw maintaining Atlas, only the battle droids — surprisingly few in number, but then, she supposed that the Atlesian authorities thought it was overkill to deploy robots designed to kill their enemies for law and order duties — were familiar to her; the rest, she had never come across even in the heart of Vale.

“I’ve heard that technology in Atlas is twenty or thirty years ahead of the rest of the world,” Blake murmured. “Now that I’m here … I guess it’s true, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” Fluttershy murmured. “You should really talk to Twilight if you want to know about science and technology.”

“We’re here!” trilled Rarity, coming to a stop outside of a store with a blue front which sparkled as though the stone had been infused with diamond dust, and where graffiti-styled art decorated the windows and the displays behind the dresses out for show.

“Um, Rarity,” Fluttershy murmured. “Isn’t this where you work?”

“Yes, it is, as it happens, where I’m doing my internship,” Rarity conceded. “But that only means that I know we’ll find something suitable for Blake inside.”

Blake eyed the window displays. The dress that looked as though it had a skirt made of clouds certainly looked pretty enough, but she wasn’t sure about its practicality. “Does this place have anything…? I mean, just because I’m here on a break doesn’t mean I don’t need something … day to day.”

“Oh, these are just some high-end examples to attract custom,” Rarity explained, with a degree of exasperation in her voice. “There are plenty of … mundane items on the other side of the door. Honestly, sometimes, I must say that I grow weary of the constant suspicion under which I labour. You’d think I wanted to put everyone in avant-garde every moment of every day.” She paused. “As opposed to every conceivable special occasion.”

Blake smiled, if only a little. “You’re right; I should trust you,” she admitted and allowed herself to be steered inside by Rarity, with Fluttershy following them in.

“Coco!” Rarity called out, projecting her voice across the open, spacious boutique.

Blake’s first, absurd thought was that Rarity was calling out to the second-year protégé at Beacon, who would have been a favourite to win the Vytal Festival if Pyrrha had been just one year younger; but that was ridiculous; just because that was the only Coco Blake knew didn’t mean that it was the only Coco in Remnant.

The girl who emerged from the other side of a rack of dresses was not Coco Adel. She was a deal smaller and more slight, for a start, and paler for another. Her hair was cyan and opal, cut short and worn in a bob that curled around her ears, and she was dressed in a purple blouse with a sailor neckline and a ruffled blue and purple skirt above cyan stockings. Her light blue eyes blinked in surprise.

“Rarity?” she said. “Oh, so you did bring your new friend here! You must be Blake.”

“That’s right,” Blake said softly. “Blake Belladonna.”

“This is my roommate, Coco Pommel,” Rarity explained. “She’s also interning here at Prim Hemline’s boutique.”

Coco stepped forward, and offered Blake her hand. “Thank you, for all your service.”

“All my— oh, yes,” Blake said. That’s right, I’m supposed to be an Atlesian spy, aren’t I? “It was nothing, really.”

“Blake, as you can see, needs something more appropriate for our kingdom,” Rarity said.

Coco smiled. “You have something in mind already, don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Rarity replied.

“Shouldn’t this be my choice?” Blake asked.

“Oh, of course it’s your choice, darling,” Rarity said. “I’m simply going to ensure that you don’t choose poorly.”

Rarity proved all of Blake’s suspicions unfounded, as Blake had to admit as she emerged from the store some time later; with Miss Hemline, the boutique owner, absent and Rarity taking the day off, Coco Pommel had been left to hold down the fort, and she was ever so obliging; she hadn’t done much to help Blake choose an outfit — Rarity had that well in hand — but she had rushed from one end of the store to another and then allowed Blake to change in one of the fitting rooms after Fluttershy had paid for the ensemble.

Yes, Fluttershy had bought her outfit. That wasn’t something Blake had requested, it wasn’t something that she had sought, but she had nevertheless found it impossible to prevent. Fluttershy hadn’t raised her voice, Fluttershy hadn’t said anything particularly forceful, she had simply smiled and adamantly refused to take no for an answer until Blake had given in.

Blake exited the boutique with her black scarf still wrapped tightly around her neck, as well as her white crop undershirt and her white shorts. Underneath her black vest, she wore a second undershirt, this time of purple that covered up her exposed belly and offered an additional layer of warmth in Atlas, while her arms and shoulders were covered by the long black and white tailcoat, falling down to below her knees, which she wore over the top. The front was white, although bordered by black at the neckline and in stripes running down the sleeves; the back was black, turning to white again as the tails fell away; the inside was lined with soft purple velvet. She had exchanged her boots for a much higher pair which went up almost to her thighs, concealing her stockings and even a little of her shorts.

It was, to be perfectly honest, more comfortable than Blake had been expecting. She felt a little warmer already.

“Thank you for this,” Blake said, as they stood once more on the sidewalk outside. “Thank you for your help, Rarity, and Fluttershy, for—”

“Don’t mention it,” Fluttershy said.

Blake chuckled. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Now that you’re properly dressed for Atlas,” Fluttershy went on, “where would you like to go next?”

“I don’t know where I am,” Blake said with perfect honesty. “Where would you like to show me?”

Fluttershy raised her head to look at the drones passing by overhead, some of them laden with parcels and packages while others looked as though they might be watching the crowds below. “Would you like to see the Garden of Serenity? It’s one of my favourite places in the whole city.”

“Then I’m sure it’s great,” Blake said. “Lead the way.”

Atlas was a city of surprising greenery. Atlas was a city torn out of the earth, uprooted and unmoored from the land, only to be moored again with technology, and Blake would have expected it to have little patience and less love for green and growing things. Yet as Fluttershy led the way, and Blake kept pace beside her, Blake could see that it was not so. In fact, Blake found herself surprised by how much of Atlas was not given over steel and glass and carefully-shaped stone. It was true that, for any sign of greenery, Blake had, paradoxically, to look upwards onto the rooftops of the ornate buildings — and that fact did make her a little suspicious as to how many of these spaces were open to the general public, as opposed to those who owned those buildings or leased out parts of same — but at least it was not nothing, and even those who could not enter the rooftop gardens could hopefully appreciate the sight of them, for whatever that might be worth.

But while green spaces might grow in the sky, it appeared that animals and birds did not. So far as she could see, nothing lived here but people, hordes of people untroubled by beast or bird or insect. Blake had never been considered a particular lover of any of those things — she couldn’t stand dogs, for one — but she noticed their complete and utter absence now and wondered that those all around her could not do so. No doubt, time had rendered them carelessly complacent of what they were missing.

“Most of the animals in Atlas are pets,” Rarity explained, seeming to guess at Blake’s thoughts. “And kept indoors. There’s the public zoo, and rumour is that the Schnees have the most fabulous menagerie— oh, goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s just a word,” Blake assured her. “The issue is with those who named the island, not with your use of it. You were saying, about the Schnees?”

“It’s said they have a private zoo,” Rarity said. “Containing absolute wonders, creatures that are extinct in the wild.”

“If they do, then it seems very cruel to keep them that way,” Fluttershy murmured.

“But if they were to be released now, then surely they would just die off, darling?” Rarity asked.

“Animals aren’t meant to live in cages,” Fluttershy insisted. “I volunteer at an animal shelter, where unfortunately, we don’t have much choice sometimes, but my dream is to open up a real sanctuary here in Atlas, an open space where the creatures can run free and wild.”

Blake frowned. “Then why not just release them into the wild?”

“Some animals can’t survive without help,” Fluttershy said. “Because they were bought as pets and then abandoned or because their natural habitats have been destroyed. Do you know how much damage dust mining does to the environment?”

“No,” Blake replied. “I was always more concerned with the damage that it did to the miners.”

Fluttershy didn’t seem to know how to reply to that; she looked away without saying anything.

Blake felt a twinge of guilt. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t,” Fluttershy assured her rapidly. She brightened up. “You should come and visit the shelter sometime; if you’re going to transfer to Atlas, then you should meet Major Leaf.”

“Major who?”

“He’s sort of General Ironwood’s pet tortoise and sort of the Atlas Academy mascot,” Fluttershy explained. “Rainbow says that it’s considered an honour if the General lets your team take care of him, but with General Ironwood and so many of the students away at Beacon, the shelter has been taking care of him so he doesn’t get lonely. Tank’s there, too.”

“Rainbow’s pet tortoise,” Rarity explained.

“Ah,” Blake said. “Is there any reason why tortoises?”

“They’re very adorable,” Fluttershy said. “Maybe that’s enough.”

Nevertheless, despite having been assured that animals did live in Atlas, they did not live out in the open where they could be seen but, apparently, huddled behind closed doors, out of sight and mind. Atlas was a city built by humans and occupied by humans, and by the machines that they had built to serve them. It had neither time nor place for animals, whether they were true beasts or simply those colloquially described as such.

Atlas was a city of division. In this whole bustling metropolis, she couldn’t see a single other faunus face, not a single one glimpsed in the crowd, no trace of a tail or a pair of ears, no teeth or claws. High Atlas was a human city, built by men for men to dwell in, and they meant to keep it that way. No one commented upon it, Blake didn’t even notice anyone staring, let alone whispering; she didn’t see any ‘no faunus allowed’ signs on any shop doors.

But she didn’t see any faunus either.

No wonder Ilia had snapped the way she had; passing for human or not, knowing that you were the only faunus in the room, day after day … it must have been hard on her. It would be hard on anyone.

At least I’ll have Rainbow, if I make that choice.

Atlas was a city of war. If Blake hadn’t known that already, if she hadn’t already possessed enough experience to have told her that, if the sight of the cruisers and the airships passing overhead had not been sufficient to tell her this, then she would have certainly realised it as Fluttershy and Rarity led her past what looked like the only structure in the entire city that was more than a few years old.

To reach the Park of Serenity, the girls brought her through another city plaza, open and empty, with grey stone slabs staring upwards at the sky and clouds above. In the centre of this plaza, the only object in the entire square, the focal point without any distractions, was a statue. An old statue; Blake didn’t know exactly how old it was, but in the middle of this hyper-modern city all around it, placed in the midst of a world that was racing forwards towards a new and brighter future, it looked like a relic from some ancient bygone kingdom. A woman, carved out of pure white marble, unmarred by vein or blot or flaw in the design, stood atop a towering plinth of black stone. Her face was ageless, her eyes were closed, and her head was bowed downwards towards the ground; she was simply dressed, with her arms bare and her feet hidden beneath her long skirt and one breast bared as though she were about to feed a child. Perhaps it was for that reason alone that she put Blake in mind of a mother, or perhaps there was some other ineffably maternal quality that Blake could detect but not really describe.

Blake stopped and stared at the statue as her friends, noticing, halted also.

“Would you like to get a closer look, darling?” Rarity asked softly

Blake nodded, and the three of them walked across the pedestrianised space until the maternal figure, high upon her plinth, would have been looking down upon them if she had but opened up her eyes. Her arms, bare and devoid of sleeve or glove, were spread out on either side of her, gesturing or encompassing that which lay before her. Beneath her feet, upon the heavy bronze disk that separated her statue from the black pedestal that hoisted her into the air, were embossed in gold the words ‘These Are My Jewels.’ And all around the statue, beneath the woman’s hands, were more statues wrought in bronze, statues which had an antique style but nevertheless appeared newer than the woman who embraced them as her children: a soldier, his rifle resting upon his shoulder; a huntress in the uniform of the specialists, one hand upon her sword; a pilot, her face concealed beneath her helmet and visor; an engineer with a toolkit in his hand; a scientist in a lab coat. The jewels of Atlas, who kept the city safe from the monsters who surrounded them.

Flowers were laid around the statues’ base, garlands and bouquets, blots of colour around the black stone plinth and grey stone slabs that formed the floor. Some of the flowers were accompanied by photographs; other photographs had been pinned to the pedestal itself: smiling faces, laughing faces, grave faces, faces set in posed expressions, proud and noble faces; so many faces set in a single moment staring out at Blake with sightless eyes.

“Who are all these people?” Blake asked, thinking that she knew the answer already.

“Those we’ve lost.” The answer came not from Fluttershy or Rarity, but from Applejack. Blake hadn’t seen her there, but she wandered around from the other side of the statue now, her hat held in her hands. “Those who’ve given everything for this kingdom. Anyone can leave a picture here, don’t matter who it is: your brother, your cousin, your best friend, that jerk you knew in school who made something of himself … and gave everything of himself. Your parents.” She glanced away, and her smile was as thin as it was brief. “Howdy, girls.”

“Good morning, Applejack,” Fluttershy murmured. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Applejack brushed one of her twin ponytails over her shoulder. “It’s been too long since Ah paid a visit, what with … well, you know.”

Blake frowned. “Is … is someone you know on here?”

Applejack nodded. “One or two,” she said softly. She didn’t elaborate, and Blake didn’t push her. She’d said enough.

They stood in silence, under the shadow of the marble woman and her treasures, the jewels of Atlas that would never gleam again.

Perhaps it was nothing more than her imagination at work, but as she looked again, Blake almost thought that it looked as though the woman was about to weep. Perhaps that was why her eyes were closed.

“Who was she?” Blake asked.

“She represents the city,” Rarity said.

“I thought she was meant to be a queen from long ago,” Fluttershy said.

“Ah don’t rightly recall,” Applejack admitted. “You’d need to talk to Twi if you want a history lesson. All Ah know is, this is where we say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry,” Blake whispered, feeling the inadequacy of the words. How many of the photographs strewn around or pinned upon this statue had met their ends not because of the grimm but because of the White Fang?

How many brothers and sisters of the White Fang have lost their lives in exchange?

The answer, she was sure, was too many on both counts. Too many had given their lives in this war, too many heroes on both sides had paid the ultimate price for their ideals, and all for what? What had changed? What had all the gallantry and sacrifice accomplished? The battle lines could not have moved less if Atlas and the White Fang had dug their trenches across either side of a muddy field somewhere and competed to see who could slaughter more of their own men trying to move the battle lines an inch or two.

Is there no alternative to this? No better way? Is this doomed to be the way it is forever?

It was enough to make her weep with frustration the tears that the old queen or Atlas anthropomorphised could not.

“Blake,” Fluttershy said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I,” Blake began, pausing for a moment. “I was just thinking about how much has been lost, you know?”

Fluttershy nodded understandingly. “Would you mind if we left now? This place … it always makes me so sad.”

If that was true, then Blake could well understand why, because it was making her sad too; if it was a lie, then it was gently meant, to be sure. “Okay,” Blake said. “Let’s keep moving.”

“You’re welcome to join us, if you want to,” Fluttershy said to Applejack. “We were just about to show Blake the Park of Serenity. That is, if you don’t mind, Blake.”

Blake was about to say that no, she didn’t mind, but before she could speak, Applejack had already done so. “Nah, you two go ahead. I … I think I’m going to be here a little while longer. There’s still one or two things I have to say.”

One or two … and one, at least, is very close. Not the jerk in school who made something of himself. Her brother? Her parents?

Blake couldn’t help but wonder, even as she knew that it was not her place to know. Applejack remained, lingering under the shadow of the statue, looking up at the woman on the pedestal as Fluttershy and Rarity led Blake away.

She hadn’t realised what an oppressive mood had prevailed about that statue until they were away from it; although the mood of melancholy that oppressed her soul did not abate by a long shot, it did ease off just a little, once they were out of sight of the memorial and all it represented to her.

And so they led her to the Park of Serenity, the only green space that Blake had seen thus far in the entire city that was at ground level and not raised up on a roof somewhere tantalisingly out of reach. It was encased within a transparent biodome that kept the worst of the elements at bay and which, Blake could see, would be necessary when the winter came and the weather made these mild temperatures seem tropical by comparison. Within the dome, inside the park itself, a hundred different kinds of flowers bloomed in carefully-tended flower beds — tended to by actual gardeners, what was more: grey-haired faunus in straw hats and waistcoats who moved amongst the visitors with rakes and hoes and buckets — blooming with chrysanthemums, lavenders of blue and green, iris and rosemary and rue, roses red and white and pink, daffodils and tulips. Apple trees spread out their boughs as succulent-looking green fruit bloomed upon their branches. Cherry trees blossomed radiant pink. And in the trees sang hundreds of birds in as many colours or more than there were different kinds of flowers in the garden.

It was like a different world, one wholly removed from the technological marvel outside the glass — or glass-seeming — world from which they had just come; it was like the fairy stories in the battered old book that Blake’s mother had used to read to her and which she had given to Penny: the ones in which the protagonist entered into a fairy world, lingering there a day or two, only to find that ten or twenty or a hundred years had passed in the real world when they returned.

That … that might even be comforting, Blake thought. To spend an age in here and come out to find that Sienna Khan and all those whom I knew in the White Fang had died, and perhaps even the White Fang died with them. Then I could see what the world had become in my absence.

A world without Rainbow or Sunset or Sun. A world where anyone who ever cared about me had passed on long ago.

No. It’s for the best that this isn’t that kind of story.

For her part, Fluttershy too looked as though she had stepped into another world, a better world, one that better suited her temperament. She looked relaxed here as she had never quite looked outside, and as a bluebird flew out of its tree to land upon her outstretched finger, she looked as enchanted by the chirruping creature as Ilia had ever sounded by the wonders of the city of dreams.

As Fluttershy stood, murmuring softly to the little bird which sat upon her hands, Blake and Rarity sat down upon a bench, an uneven bench made of a solid plate of metal that was torn and frayed around the edges and pock-marked upon the surface as though something had been beating on it.

It was so strange, to see such shoddy workmanship in Atlas, that Blake could not help but stare at it for a moment.

Rarity noticed her confusion. “It’s all recycled, dear. Everything — the chair and the benches and the like — in this garden has been made from the fragments of … the Superb, I think the name was. After she went to the breakers’ yard, her metal was repurposed. I find it rather… well, I don’t know if it’s appropriate, but I appreciate the meaning behind it.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “What is the meaning?”

“That even the most hideous things can become part of something beautiful,” Rarity explained.

Blake nodded. “Do you … do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do, darling,” Rarity replied. “I am a fashionista, after all.”

“And what about people?” Blake asked.

“'People'?” Fluttershy repeated, turning away from her bird to face Blake and Rarity.

“If horrible things can become part of something beautiful, then what about horrible people?” Blake asked, stating it baldly. “Can they ever become part of something beautiful as well?”

Fluttershy stared at her for a moment. “You’re not a horrible person, Blake.”

“No offence, Fluttershy, but you don’t know me,” Blake said. “Neither of you know me, and you don’t know what I was.”

“'Was'?” Fluttershy said. “Not 'is'?”

Blake looked away for a moment. “I’d like to think so,” she muttered.

“Then does it matter?”

Blake stared at her, golden eyes wide. “You don’t think it does?”

Now it was Fluttershy’s turn to look away. “Nobody’s perfect,” she said. “Sometimes, even your best friend can hurt you without meaning to. If I held on to grudges because of the things that they’d done, or if they held onto grudges because of the things that I’d done, I wouldn’t have any friends at all.”

“What I’ve done is a lot worse than just hurting my friends,” Blake said. Calling my father a coward isn’t even in the top fifty worst things I’ve done.

“Maybe,” Fluttershy acknowledged. “But do you regret it?”

“Every day.”

“Then you aren’t the person who did those things, are you?” Rarity asked.

Blake blinked. “And … that’s it?”

“What else is there, but change?” Fluttershy asked. “And doing better next time?”

“Redemption?” Blake asked. “Penance?”

Fluttershy was silent for a moment. “Rainbow and Twilight tried to get me into video games once. I didn’t really enjoy them. I remember one game, you could do all kinds of horrible things and get negative points that would make everybody hate you … but then you could just buy them cookies or rescue stray kittens, and they’d forget all about the terrible things that you’d done because your positive points would cancel them out. Until you did something bad again, anyway. That didn’t seem right to me.”

Blake nodded, understanding what Fluttershy was saying: that expecting that you could or should do a set of arbitrary good things until you hit an equally arbitrary point at which you had cancelled out all of your prior bad acts was just as facile — if not more so — than the idea of a blank cheque of forgiveness. “But … how do I know if I deserve to be forgiven?”

“I’d ask if you were certain you’d forgiven yourself,” Rarity said. “But the answer, I’m afraid to say, is becoming more obvious by the moment.”

“So what?” Blake asked. “What does that matter?”

“It’s the only thing that matters,” Fluttershy said. “Even if the whole rest of Remnant forgave you personally, none of that would matter if you couldn’t forgive yourself. You’d still be trapped by what you’d done, unable to move forward.”

Blake let out a dispirited sigh. “That … that explains a great deal about how I feel,” she admitted. “I’ve been running and running to do something, anything, that will make up for what I did, but … but none of it made me feel any better.”

“I don’t know, for certain,” Fluttershy admitted. “But perhaps…”

“Perhaps we can find out together, darling?” Rarity said.

Blake glanced from Fluttershy to Rarity and then back again. “I … I’d like that,” she said. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Not a huge number of changes here, mostly cosmetic to include Rarity - and Blake's new outfit. The discussions are altered a bit in form but come to substantially the same places.

Major Leaf was created on tumblr and is used with permission of IronwoodProtectionSquad.

Meet the New Boss (New)

Meet the New Boss

“And our biggest news story of the day: Aspen Emerald today took office as First Councillor. Mr Emerald was elected leader of the Liberal Conservative party unopposed in the third round of the leadership contest after his rivals, Leo Aquas and John Keller, withdrew after the second round of voting. The former Councillor of the Interior entered the First Councillor’s official residence at Number 12, Regent Street, and received the traditional applause of the staff,” Lisa Lavender declared, as the screen to her right showed a picture of the black front door of the official residence.

It had only been a couple of days since Sunset had been there in person but had failed to save Councillor Aris’ career nevertheless.

Now, she sat in the dining hall, looking at her scroll as the news reported on the outcome of the leadership election and the assumption of office of the new leader of Vale.

In a more full dining hall, it might have been rude to have been looking at her scroll that way, but half the students — more than half, in the cases of the Atlas and Haven students — had gone home for a break before the start of the tournament, and so, the cafeteria was emptier than it had ever been to Sunset’s recollection — but then, she’d been in Mistral for the break last semester, so she couldn’t say how full or empty it had been at that time.

Besides, further detracting from the impression of impoliteness was the fact that Sunset wasn’t the only one paying attention to her scroll and to the news on it. It was true that Jaune, Yang, Ren, and Nora didn’t seem particularly fussed, but Pyrrha was listening politely on the other side of the table, Ruby leaned into Sunset’s shoulder for a better look, while Cardin loomed over them, looking over Sunset’s shoulder.

“What do you think it means?” Jaune asked.

“Nothing,” Ren declared, without looking up from his noodles. “Leaders come and go, but nothing ever really changes.”

“That’s a rather cynical view, don’t you think?” Sunset asked.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Ren replied. “The best government is one which gets out of the people’s way and lets them live their lives without interference.”

“Sounds like what people say when they don’t want to pay their taxes,” Cardin muttered.

“It sounds a lot like the mindset that dreamed of Oniyuri,” Pyrrha observed.

Ren glanced at her, nodding his head. “My parents supported that endeavour and hoped that it would come to fruition.”

“'Oniyuri'?” Yang asked. “What’s that? I’ve never heard that name before. Is it a concept or a—”

“A place,” Ren replied. “Or at least, it would have been.”

“Several years ago, Mistral appeared to be in something of a crisis,” Pyrrha said. “Crime was rising, and with it, the influence of wealthy crime lords who dared to expand their power into the upper slopes of the city and mingle with or threaten the traditional noble families. In fear, and out of disgust at the corruption of the Council and its failed policies that had led to this state of affairs, several prominent families, led by the Mings, planned to quit Mistral and found a new city where they could govern themselves as they saw fit.”

“It was their hope that their success would attract more migrants,” Ren added, “and that one day, Oniyuri would be prosperous enough to be acknowledged as a kingdom in its own right.”

“How come no one’s ever heard of this place?” asked Ruby.

“The grimm destroyed it before it was even finished being built,” Ren growled. “Like Mountain Glenn, what was supposed to be a symbol of hope and new beginning became a cautionary tale of what happens to those who walk away from safety.”

“Then … but what happened to Mistral?” Jaune asked. “I mean, it didn’t seem that bad when we were there.”

“The criminal element pushed their luck too far,” Pyrrha said. “The death of Lord Rutulus shocked the wealthy and the powerful and galvanised them to save the city. The criminal leadership were cut down like wheat in harvest time, and the worst of the corruption was purged.”

“So things did change, after all,” Yang pointed out.

“For the powerful, perhaps,” Ren allowed. “Not for ordinary people.”

“That might be how it works in Mistral, but not here,” Cardin insisted. “Here, the Council takes care of people, or it should, anyway.”

“Leaders should always strive to take care of the people,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“But that doesn’t mean they always do,” Ruby murmured.

“Do you know what this new guy is like?” Sunset asked. She didn’t want to give away that she’d already met him, and besides, one single meeting — where he had been understandably bad-tempered — was hardly an appropriate basis to judge him.

“I … never really liked him that much,” Cardin admitted.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder. “Because he was a faunus?”

Cardin winced. “Maybe. A little. But Councillor Aris seemed to trust him, so I guess he must be okay. Since he was her closest ally, I think we’ll see more of the same but with an increased focus on security and defence, given … you know, everything that’s gone on lately.”

And why he has the job in the first place, Sunset thought.

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “Can we afford all of that stuff, or is Dad going to have to pay more tax?”

“I don’t know,” Cardin admitted. “And it’s Councillor Emerald’s first day in the big office, so I doubt even he knows right now.”

“Outside of the official residence,” Lisa Lavender said, “the new First Councillor had this to say.”

The image changed from Lisa Lavender in the studio to a video recording of the exterior of Regent Street, where Aspen Emerald, his antlers resplendent, was standing at a lectern branded with the emblem of the Kingdom of Vale.

His hands rested upon the wood, and his gaze travelled across what must have been a crowd of reporters. He didn’t flinch as flashes went off in his face.

“My great-great grandfather,” he said, “was a slave in Mantle. He risked everything to get himself and his family to Vale before the Great War. If he had been caught, he and they would have been put to death with incredible brutality, but they made the attempt anyway, as so many did, because to them, the reward was worth the risk. They came to Vale because, in Vale, they could be free; in Vale, they could be the equal of anyone; in Vale, they could prosper upon their own merits. That is what Vale meant to my ancestors and that is what Vale means to me: freedom, opportunity, and equality; and so, to the people of Vale, I say that my administration will champion those values and continue to make Vale a place where anyone can prosper through hard work and deserving merit.

“I would like to thank my predecessor, Novo Aris, for her sterling work rebuilding the Valish economy; with the foundations of our prosperity secure, we may go forward with confidence and with the ability to fulfil our programmes and our promises to the people of Vale.”

He fell silent for a moment, and his grip upon the lectern seemed to tighten.

“I come to this, the highest office, amidst tragedy,” he said, his voice dropping. “Vale has been attacked, in a way that is unprecedented in the history of this kingdom. I do not wish to overstate the seriousness of what occurred at the Breach; thanks to the efforts of our Atlesian allies and the students of Beacon Academy, Vale was saved, and the majority of Vale’s people with it. We should all remember that and rejoice in it. Nevertheless, it is not enough to say that the overwhelming majority of the people of Vale were delivered from catastrophe. Unforgivable weaknesses in our military and our civil defences have been exposed, and I promise the people of Vale that my administration will do all it can to ensure those weaknesses are shored up with the utmost despatch. The first act of my administration, when I walk through that door, will be to order a public inquiry into the parlous state of our emergency infrastructure, to identify why a shelter meant to protect people from the grimm was breached by a grimm with such tragic loss of life, and whomsoever is found to be responsible will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. But I know that we cannot wait for the results of a public inquiry, and that is why my second act will be to order the Inspector-General of Public Works to conduct a full examination of every shelter in Vale and to do whatever is necessary to make them fit for purpose against any future calamities such as we have endured.

“More than that, my administration will immediately make contact with our counterparts in Atlas and Mistral with a view to purchasing additional warships to augment our Royal Navy, additional weapons to equip our forces for any eventuality, and instructors to fill in what appear to be unforgivable gaps in methodology and training. Although I pray to the god of my people that such an attack as we have endured does not occur again, I make this promise to the people of Vale that if it does, we will be prepared. Next time, I vow to you, we will save ourselves.”

The picture cut back to Lisa Lavender in the studio. “In other news, the stock market closed three points up—”

Sunset shut her scroll.

“Sounds like Vale is going to have ships and guns, just like Atlas,” Yang observed. “I wonder if they’ll still need us.”

“Sure they will!” Nora cried. “Remember how those soldiers just ran away and left us to do all the work on our training mission?”

“They’ll probably try and make sure that doesn’t happen again,” Sunset said.

“But Atlas still needs huntsmen,” Jaune pointed out. “And so will Vale.”

“Unless they make us all Specialists,” Ruby suggested gloomily.

“Would that be such a terrible thing?” Pyrrha asked. “It would not be my first choice, to be sure, but … it appears to work for them.”

“I don’t want to take orders,” Ruby said. “I want to make my own decisions and do what’s right.”

“You take my orders,” Sunset pointed out.

“But that’s different,” Ruby said. “I trust you.”

You know just how to stick a dagger in me, don’t you? Sunset did not reply.

“You’re all reading far too much into this,” Cardin informed them all. “He’s talking about spending more on the military, not reorganising the whole kingdom so that it’s just like Atlas. Didn’t you hear what he said: freedom, opportunity—?“

“And equality,” Sunset reminded him.

“Yes, yes, I heard that too,” Cardin said. “My point is that huntsmen aren’t going to be any less free under Councillor Emerald than they were before; Vale is going to be just as it was, just with a stronger national defence. And I, for one, think that’s an unvarnished good thing.”

General Ironwood opened the door, then took a step back. “After you, Oz.”

Ozpin’s smile was a little tight. “First into the dragon’s den, James?”

“It won’t be that bad,” Ironwood replied. “Will it?”

“I think we’ll soon find out, won’t we?” Ozpin murmured, as he — despite the jibe — did lead the way inside.

Ironwood was a little surprised to be invited to the official residence — he hadn’t thought that they were in that good odour with the new First Councillor — but perhaps it was simply a matter of Councillor Emerald not being settled in yet and not wanting to go to his office in the Palace for one meeting only to have to come back again. The room to which they had been directed was on the ground floor, and Ironwood was surprised to find that there was no desk, or any sort of working table, anywhere in sight. There were some chairs around the edges of the room, but mostly, for all its size, the room was empty, with a lot of bare beige carpet. To some extent, it reminded him of his own office back in Atlas Academy, except a little more homely in décor, but he had such a big office only partly to host large groups of visitors; mostly, it was because space in Atlas was at a premium, and so, having a big office marked the Headmaster of the academy as a man of influence and prestige.

He didn’t expect that this room was empty for the same purpose.

“The work is done on the floor,” Councillor Emerald declared. He was stood with his profile to Ironwood and Ozpin, looking out of the window at the Horse Guards’ Parade which stood behind the street. His hands were clasped behind his back.

Ironwood shut the door behind him. “Mister Councillor?”

“You’re wondering why there isn’t a big table,” Councillor Emerald guessed. “All of the papers are put on the floor, and everyone kneels or squats, doing their backs out in the process of fixing whatever crisis is currently in progress, like students pulling an all-nighter to get their essays done before deadline. It’s much easier to move around that way than with a table and chairs clogging up the room — or perhaps it just seemed that way, and now, it’s become a tradition that no one thinks to oppose. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Good afternoon, First Councillor,” Ozpin said. “And congratulations upon your—”

“Don’t you dare,” Councillor Emerald growled. He paused for a moment. “I did not seek this office. I would have been quite content with my former position, or no position at all, so long as I knew that the government of Vale was in good hands. Novo Aris was a good woman.”

“I have never suggested, nor heard it suggested otherwise,” Ozpin offered diplomatically.

Councillor Emerald turned to face them. “I want you to know that I hold you both responsible for her downfall,” he declared, “but you are both dug in deep and tight, and I do not have the desire to engage in the kind of drawn out struggle it would take in order to knock you both off your exalted perches, not when there is so much else that is more pressing for Vale. And besides, it would disturb the public at a time when we need calm and good spirits more than ever. But do not think I have forgotten, or forgiven.”

Ozpin said nothing. Ironwood could understand that; it was difficult to know how to respond to someone calling you into their office to tell you how much they hate you, but he endeavoured to find a response anyway.

“Mister Councillor,” he said. “May I ask what you think we should have told you earlier than we did? As soon as we heard back from our reconnaissance team that there was an imminent threat to the city, we notified the Council.”

“You should have notified the Council that you were sending a reconnaissance team,” Councillor Emerald declared. “And why.”

“And what would the Council have done in response, Councillor?” General Ironwood asked.

“The Council would have asked why you were sending two teams of first year students instead of Valish huntsmen or some of your vaunted Atlesian Specialists,” Councillor Emerald snarled. “Tell me, General Ironwood, is it the habit of the Atlesian military to have children fight their battles for them?”

Ironwood clasped his hands behind his back, mirroring the First Councillor’s posture. “There were reasons for the assignment of Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal to that particular mission.”

“Perhaps you’d like to share those reasons with the class?” Councillor Emerald suggested.

Ironwood cleared his throat. “The information that led us to investigate Mountain Glenn came to us through Blake Belladonna, our former mole in the White Fang,” he lied. “She received communication from a contact of hers within the White Fang requesting a meeting within the ruins. Although it could have been a trap, Professor Ozpin and I nevertheless felt that it was worth following up on—”

“So you sent children because they were expendable, if it was a trap?” Councillor Emerald asked.

“I would never have sent any team if I didn’t believe they could fight their way out of any danger they might get into,” Ironwood replied, his voice rising slightly, “and besides, the two teams concerned had already carried out operations alongside Belladonna, and we believed that synergy might be advantageous.”

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. “Is that right, Professor Ozpin?”

“It is, Mister Councillor,” Ozpin said, his face inscrutable. “Our reasons were precisely as General Ironwood has described them.”

Councillor Emerald’s eyes narrowed. “Nevertheless,” he said, “you placed the security of Vale in the hands of children.”

“You may not like it, Mister Councillor, but I believe that we have been vindicated by events,” Ironwood said.

He might regret having given RSPT the assignment himself, but he wasn’t going to just stand there and let some Valish politician tell him to his face that they were incapable. Yes, the mission had gone less than perfectly, and Penny had been left in a state of damage, but none of that was known to Councillor Emerald, none of it should have concerned him even if he had.

“The team we sent to Mountain Glenn delivered sufficient warning of the incoming attack that Vale was defended with minimal casualties.”

“Is that what you really believe?” Councillor Emerald demanded. “That your children did the best job they could?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise,” Ironwood said.

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. He turned away from both of them and walked to the far end of the room. His hands moved from behind him to out of sight, somewhere in front of him, obviously.

“You may be offended, General Ironwood, when I say that I don’t trust your motives,” he said. “I don’t care if you’re offended or not; I don’t trust your motives. My ancestors came to Vale to get away from northern power.”

“With respect, Mister Councillor, Atlas is not the Mantle that was before the war,” Ironwood said.

“So you say,” Councillor Emerald allowed. “So you may even believe. But though some of your methods may have changed, I believe that you people are as grasping and power-hungry as ever. You make yourself indispensable through the military might that you fund through the economic dependence of the other kingdoms upon the Schnee Dust Company, which you encourage. You dominate Remnant in ways that Mantle could scarcely have dreamt of. You lost the war, and yet, you have achieved all the things for which you went to war—”

“Mister Councillor,” Ironwood interrupted him, “the Schnee Dust Company is not some arm of the Atlesian state—”

“And yet, your military has collaborated with the SDC on several research and development projects, has it not?” Councillor Emerald asked. “And the SDC also has a division producing military equipment, does it not?”

“Rather irrelevant, if I may say, Mister Councillor,” Ozpin said. “Yes, the Atlesian military has commercial ties with the SDC; many, if not all, major organisations in Remnant have some commercial ties with the SDC, even here in Vale; Remnant’s largest conglomerate can hardly be ignored. It is not evidence of a grand conspiracy or of hidden motives on the part of General Ironwood or Atlas. You know, Councillor, that I did not wish General Ironwood’s presence here. You were present at the Council session where you and I voted against allowing the Atlesian forces to visit Vale in such strength. Events have proven us both wrong, and I am bound to say that, whatever disagreements General Ironwood and I might have had, I have never had cause to doubt the integrity of his motives.

“Atlas is imperfect, as Vale is imperfect, as all the creations of mankind are imperfect, for it is our very inability to reach perfection that keeps us striving to reach it and, in the reaching, improving ourselves and our works. As Atlas has improved upon the Mantle that was.” Ozpin paused for a moment. “The crimes committed against your ancestors and your people were horrible, but they were Mantle’s crimes, and cannot at the door of Atlas be laid.”

Councillor Emerald took a few moments to reply. “Unfortunately, you are correct in one thing, Ozpin: events have proved us wrong. It sticks in my craw somewhat, but we needed you, General Ironwood. Much as I wish it were not so.” He rounded on them both. “However, just because I require your presence, General, and just because I cannot remove you, Professor, does not mean that I will let things continue on as they have done. Novo allowed you both to keep making trouble for her right up until the moment you caused so much trouble it ended her career; I don’t intend to make the same mistake. Enter!”

A door at the other end of the room opened to admit three men into the chamber. One of them Ironwood knew: his former Valish counterpart General Seaspray, the lately retired commander of the Valish Defence Force. He was not wearing a military uniform, but rather, a suit of well-tailored blue. The other two men were both wearing Valish uniforms, one — the taller of the two, with a shock of silver-white hair and large, almost bird-like wings coming from his back — had the two pips and a crown of a Valish colonel upon his shoulders, while the other — a bald deer faunus with red-brown eyes and a pair of antlers, somewhat more modest than the First Councillor’s, growing out of the top of his head — possessed the pip over crossed sword and baton of a general. Evidently the latter, although not known to Ironwood, was Seaspray’s replacement in command of the Defence Force.

“General Seaspray, I expect you both know,” Councillor Emerald said. “But allow me to introduce General Blackthorn, formerly of the Patch Light Infantry, now appointed to command of the Valish Defence Forces, and Colonel Sky Beak Aris of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons.”

Ironwood walked towards them. “A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” he said, offering his hand to General Blackthorn. “How does it feel?”

General Blackthorn did not take his hand. “I hope you’ll forgive me, General Ironwood, if I don’t shake the hand of the man who has humiliated my army. I need your assistance, but don’t expect me to like it.”

Ironwood let his hand fall to his side. “That was not my intent, I assure you.”

“Maybe not,” Blackthorn allowed. “But it’s what you did. And now I must restore pride and dignity to a force that has had both stripped away and been made a laughingstock.”

Ironwood did not respond to that; rather, he said, “Mister Councillor, are there any more people going to come in and insult me? If there are, could we get them over with all at once? I do have work to do.”

Colonel Sky Beak chuckled, although he seemed to be trying to hide it.

Councillor Emerald drew in a breath. “Colonel Aris,” he said, “will be taking leave of his regiment, for a little while at least; I am seconding him to the Atlesian forces as our liaison officer. Through him, you will coordinate your actions with General Blackthorn and myself. I expect you to keep him abreast of all developments.”

“Of course, Mister Councillor,” Ironwood said. “All significant developments. Colonel.”

Colonel Sky Beak offered his hand. “It will be a pleasure to work with you, General Ironwood.”

Ironwood took the offered hand. “Likewise.”

“And of course, you will see that the colonel is given accommodation aboard your flagship,” Councillor Emerald added. “Where he can observe the conduct of your forces from the hub of their control.”

Where he can spy on me, you mean, Ironwood thought. This was … not ideal, but at the same time, it was hardly a fatal blow. After all, everything he was keeping secret from the Valish Council, he was keeping secret from his own officers too, much as it pained him to do so. It might, perhaps, lead to a few less trips to Beacon and a few more video calls with Oz, but overall, it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Of course,” Ironwood said. “I’ll make the arrangements at once.” The colonel could snoop around as much as he wanted, but he wasn’t going to find evidence of an Atlesian conspiracy because no such conspiracy existed.

“As for General Seaspray,” Councillor Emerald continued, “he has graciously agreed to postpone spending time with his family in order to accept the newly created office of Inspector General of Schools, in which office he will reviewing all Combat Schools, and most especially Beacon Academy, to ensure that all standards are being adhered to and nothing untoward is occurring at this institution that is of such great importance to Vale.”

Ozpin smiled. “I see. Well, if you do note anything that could be improved, I hope you’ll let me know, General; at Beacon, we’re always striving to improve the quality of education that our students receive.”

Perhaps Emerald and his people didn’t notice the slight tightness around Ozpin’s eyes, the way his smile didn’t quite reach. This was not good. It was one thing for Ironwood to call Oz from his office where Sky Beak couldn’t listen in, but who was to say that Seaspray wouldn't badger Ozpin in his office? Not to mention what an outside observer might make of certain students going up to Ozpin’s office much more frequently than others. And if Qrow showed up, what in the name of the gods would anyone outside their circle make of him?

This might be more difficult. The only consolation was it didn’t seem that he was going to be living at Beacon full time.

“And at the end of his review,” Councillor Emerald concluded, “General Seaspray will produce a report, with his recommendations on restructuring the organisation of Valish huntsmen and Beacon Academy in order to bring them both under a greater degree of Council oversight.”

The smile faded from Ozpin’s face. “Mister Councillor, the independence of Beacon Academy—”

“If the independence of Beacon Academy meant that much to you,” Councillor Emerald said, “then perhaps you should not have abused it so recklessly. That’s all; now both of you, get out.”

“Thank you, Mister Councillor,” Ironwood said softly, and then turned to go.

Ozpin led the way silently; he moved quickly enough, but did not speak until they were outside 12 Regent Street, feeling the light breeze upon their faces, slightly ruffling Ozpin’s grey hair.

“Oz?” Ironwood murmured.

“'A greater degree of Council oversight,'” Ozpin muttered. “Has it really come to this?”

“They can’t take the school away from you,” Ironwood reminded him. “Not while I’ve got your back.”

“No, they cannot, thank the gods,” Ozpin murmured, “but they could force me to take orders from some general … and they could put my children in uniform.”

Ironwood felt torn between a desire to reassure his old friend and a desire to defend the system under which he operated. “That’s not necessarily what was meant,” he said diplomatically. “And who knows? Seaspray might surprise you and recommend no changes to the current system.”

“You and I both know that is highly unlikely, James,” Ozpin said.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. “I know that you don’t like the system I run,” he said, “but it works for Atlas.”

“Except that the number of non-Atlesian applicants to Atlas Academy has cratered since the Specialist system was instituted,” Ozpin said. “You’re driving non-Atlesians away, James; the only people who want to study at Atlas from outside of your kingdom are—”

“Wealthy Mistralians whose idea of what Atlas is like consists of ‘it isn’t all the things that we dislike about Mistral,’” Ironwood muttered.

“You have only yourself to blame for that James; you drive away not only non-Atlesians, but also Atlesians like Miss Schnee who are unwilling to submit to your control.”

“And yet, I still have the best huntsmen and huntresses that I could ask for,” Ironwood said.

“For now,” Ozpin murmured. “If Beacon goes the same way as Atlas, if we, too, begin to drive outsiders away—”

“Then Leo will be very happy,” Ironwood said.

Ozpin did not laugh. “It goes against everything that the Academies were founded to stand for.”

“It might not go so far as that.”

“Anything will be going too far,” Ozpin said. “The huntsman system was intended to remove the monopoly on violence out of the control of governments to make it harder for them to start another war. Is this all it takes for them to forget that and close their hands around power once more?”

“Not necessarily,” Ironwood said. “I think it’s fair to say that Councillor Emerald doesn’t like either of us, but if he really wanted a fight, then he could try and get you fired — and me, as well, if he really wanted to kick up a storm. I doubt that he’d get his way, but it seems like he isn’t going to try because he has other priorities. He’s a politician, Oz; he wants to be seen to be doing something because now is the time when it seems like Something Must Be Done, but if we can get through the Vytal Festival without any more hiccups, once everyone has had a good time and the Breach seems further away, then there won’t seem like such a pressing need for action, and there’ll be a dozen other things that have come up between now and then clamouring for his attention. It wouldn’t surprise me if Seaspray’s report, whatever it says, ends up mouldering in someone’s bottom drawer.”

Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I very much hope that you are correct, James. Certainly, I hope a good Vytal Festival will leave an equally good impression.”

“I’ll do my best,” James promised. “Incidentally, and before the new liaison takes up his post on my ship, I’m going to assign a squad — not Rosepetal, a squad of my best specialists — to try and track down Cinder Fall. Since we don’t know what she’s planning, even if they can’t find her, they might be able to keep her off balance and scrambling to stay ahead of them.”

“Perhaps, if they can pick up her scent,” Ozpin said. “I wasn’t aware we had any leads.”

“That is an issue,” Ironwood admitted. “But Captain Ebi has a knack for getting lucky when it counts.”

Sunset stopped her bike outside of the First Councillor’s residence. She took her helmet off as she dismounted, letting her hair fall down her back as she approached the police officer on guard outside the gate.

“My name is Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “The First Councillor is expecting me.”

Not too long ago, she puffed out her chest in pride at being able to say that, at being expected by the leader of the kingdom.

No more. Not now.

The police officer looked at a list, presumably the names of expected callers. “I’ll need to see some ID,” he said.

Sunset pulled her scroll out of her jacket pocket and swiped through to her student’s licence. Her photograph looked so smug, it was almost nostalgic. She held her scroll up for the police officer to see.

He looked at it, and then back at her. “Alright then.” He walked through the gate, with Sunset following behind him, and buzzed at the door. “Sunset Shimmer to see the First Councillor.”

There was no reply, but there was a mechanical click, and the door swung open slightly.

“In you go,” the police officer said.

“Right,” Sunset said softly as she pushed the door open the remainder of the way — it had surprised her the first time she’d come here how heavy it was; perhaps, it was armoured in some way against a terrorist attack — and stepped inside.

The door swung shut behind her, making her glad that her tail wasn’t in a position to get caught in it.

It was night, the sky had been dark when she had arrived at the door, and in the hall, the lights were off. There was no one to greet her, nor even any sign of a cleaner at work.

But the stairs were right in front of her, and she knew the way. She climbed up them, ascending from the working rooms in which government could be conducted and into the living quarters where the First Councillor and his family lived. Did the First Councillor have a family?

The message that she had received from Skystar had been peremptory: the new First Councillor wished to see her. There had been no explanation as to why, although Sunset could guess that well enough, or what he planned to do to her once she arrived.

Perhaps Skystar didn’t know; hopefully, she didn’t. Otherwise, her silence would have to be taken as a sign of her disgust, and although Sunset had earned that disgust, she did not want it.

Just as she did not want to leave Beacon. No matter what Councillor Emerald chose to do to her, she hoped that it would not sever her ties with the place, with them.

He seems to want to keep things covered up, but I’m not sure he’d bother calling me here to tell me that he’s decided to do nothing.

Not to mention, he seemed too angry to do nothing.

He was certainly a lot more upset at me than Novo. Or less understanding, anyway.

She finished climbing the stairs and pushed open the door into the sitting room to be confronted not only by Councillor Emerald, but also by a small boy, like the councillor, a deer faunus, with light brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and little nubs of antlers beginning to grow out of the top of his head, sprouting from amongst his hair like plants out of the soil. His eyes lit up as Sunset entered.

“Sunset Shimmer!” he cried. “It really is her!”

“Indeed it is,” Councillor Emerald said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What did I say? Now that I’m First Councillor, I can do anything. Welcome, Miss Shimmer; I don’t believe you’ve met my son, Bramble.”

“No, sir, I haven’t,” Sunset murmured. She knelt down on the floor, so that she and Bramble were at more of a height, although she was still a little taller than him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.”

“You’re so amazing!” Bramble cried. “I’ve watched the video of you fighting Pyrrha a hundred times—”

“At least a hundred times,” Councillor Emerald murmured.

“And it’s so cool what you did with all of the laser beams flying out of your hands like that, and teleporting all over the place. I hope I get a semblance just like yours!”

“Oh, I think you’ll have a semblance that’s much cooler than mine,” Sunset said. Since my actual semblance sucks, that shouldn’t be too hard.

Bramble frowned sceptically. “That would be great, but I doubt it. I think you were robbed in the fight; you should have won, definitely.”

Sunset shook her head. “When you say that you want a cool semblance, does that mean you intend to study combat at a combat school? Maybe go to Beacon?”

Bramble nodded. “If my dad will let me.”

“Then one of the things you need to learn is that any semblance, no matter how powerful, can be overcome by a skilled, disciplined, serious opponent,” Sunset informed him. “Pyrrha doesn’t have any abilities as flashy as mine, but she’s honed her body and her mind until they’re as sharp as her weapons, and she reaps the rewards for that. The better girl won.”

“I still think you’re cooler than she is,” Bramble said. “It’s great having a faunus that I can look up to.”

“I’m sure your father, the guy who now runs Vale, is happy to hear that.”

“He knows what I mean,” Bramble replied. “At school, I never get to be the huntsman when we play huntsman and grimm because all the other boys say that there are no faunus huntsmen, so I have to be a monster. But now I play as you, and I always win.”

“Your classmates sound like charmers,” Sunset muttered. She raised her voice to add, “I’m … flattered, really, and honoured too, and I’m certainly not going to say you can’t be me on the playground, but anyone who tells you there are no great faunus huntsman is a moron; it’s been my privilege to fight alongside some incredibly brave faunus. It’s not just me, not by any means. So don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t, okay?”

“Quite so, Miss Shimmer,” Councillor Emerald said. “Bramble, I need you to go to your room; Miss Shimmer and I need to have a grown-up conversation.”

“Yes, Dad,” Bramble said. He ran to the other door, then stopped and looked round to say, “And thank you for protecting us all against the grimm too!” Then he ran away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

He had left the door open. Councillor Emerald had to cross the room after him to shut it.

Sunset got to her feet. “Rather a heavy-handed way of making your point, sir.”

“Is there a way of making my point that would not seem heavy-handed?” Councillor Emerald asked. Having closed the door, he turned to face her. “You were willing to kill my son.”

“I didn’t seek anyone’s death, sir,” Sunset insisted.

“You didn’t care whether he lived or died,” Councillor Emerald declared.

“And if the certain death of your son were to be placed in the scales against the possible fall of Vale — a Vale which you knew full well to be defended, and which you hoped had been forewarned — what would you choose, Councillor?” Sunset demanded, her ears pressing downwards.

Councillor Emerald stared at her, but did not reply.

“That’s what I thought,” Sunset said. “I admit that I made the wrong choice down in that tunnel, and if you wish to punish me, then I will accept punishment; but I will not accept judgement from the nine out of ten people who would have made the exact same choice that I did in that situation.”

Ruby, if she knew the truth, would have the right to judge her; Sunset might even accept that Pyrrha would have the right to do so. But she would not be looked down upon by someone who was no better than her, but only luckier.

He could put her to death, that was fine, or whatever penalty the law set down, but she’d rather he didn’t sneer at her while he was doing it.

Councillor Emerald walked towards her from the far door. “Perhaps that’s why Novo wanted to go easy on you,” he said softly. “Because she would have jeopardised the city for Skystar’s sake. That, and she took pity on your youth. Do you think your youth should excuse your actions, Miss Shimmer? Do you think that you should be allowed to get away with it because you’re just a child?”

“I think there are arguments as to whether I should have been there, but given that I was there, then no,” Sunset said. “I knew what I was doing.”

Councillor Emerald nodded. “I agree, and in a slightly perverted sense, I’m glad you possess the maturity to grasp that.” He walked to a drinks cabinet and took out a decanter of some sort of brown-gold strong liquor and a single glass. “Do you have any family, Miss Shimmer?” he asked, as he unstopped the decanter and poured himself a glass of spirit.

“No, sir,” Sunset murmured.

Councillor Emerald brushed aside his jacket and put one hand in his pocket as he took a drink. “Let me guess: your teammates are your family.”

“You could say that,” Sunset admitted quietly.

“My son is my only family,” Councillor Emerald said. He took another drink. “Although … but nothing ever came of it. It would have been far too complicated for the children.”

“If I may, sir,” Sunset murmured. “Bramble’s mother?”

“Hit by a drunk driver, when he was only four years old,” Councillor Emerald growled. “She was on her way back from a party.”

“I … I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Councillor Emerald demanded curiously, hatefully. “You would have risked her life just the same as all the rest if she’d been alive.”

Sunset had no reply to that; it was, after all, quite, quite true. So she said, “Did they catch the person responsible?”

“He served six months of an eighteen month sentence,” Councillor Emerald muttered, as he knocked back the last of his liquor. “So you could say, Miss Shimmer, that I am used to people not being punished as I think they deserve.”

Again, Sunset said nothing.

“Novo … was right,” Councillor Emerald whispered. “About you, as about so much. Not, perhaps, about your guilt, but … you heard my son. You are, unworthy as you are, something of a role model: a powerful, capable faunus. And you look ‘awesome,’ shooting your lasers out of your hands.” He smiled at her, and this time, the smile almost reached his eyes. “How can a humble politician like myself compare, droning on in legislative assemblies? Plus, as we have already discussed, you and your fellow students have been lauded for your contribution during the Breach … if people knew about your real contribution to the Breach, there would be … all kinds of negativity which we do not wish at this time. On top of which, there is no evidence, only your confession which you could recant at any time.” He hesitated. “Does it seem fair to you, Miss Shimmer, that Sky Lark is dead, and yet, you not only live on but get to enjoy the life that should have been his? You say that you regret your crime, and yet, you are possessed of all the things for which you did that crime.”

“No, sir,” Sunset said. “It isn’t fair.”

“Then tell me something, Miss Shimmer,” Councillor Emerald said. “I already know that you are not prepared to sacrifice those close to you for Vale, but are you prepared to die for it? Are you, alone, prepared to give your life to preserve this kingdom?”

Sunset said nothing for a moment. That was not a question she had expected to be asked. Death … death was not something she could embrace with a light heart. She was not Ruby, she wasn’t even Pyrrha; she admired the Mistralian honour and the reverence for nobility, but that part of the Mistraliad that proclaimed ‘let us go’ was not a part of her cultural mindset; that heroic theme did not sing in her soul as it did for Pyrrha. And she certainly was not eager to follow in the footsteps of the admired dead who had gone before her.

And yet, if she said no, then she lost the last shred of credibility she possessed as a huntress in training. Death … death was frightening, and yet, at the same time … she’d let Adam stab her, she’d taken him away so that she could fight him alone with an uncertain outcome, she had looked death in the face.

Death for my friends, not for Vale.

Well, if I die, my friends will think well of me, which isn’t guaranteed if the truth comes out. And if I wasn’t prepared to die, then why did I write that embarrassing letter to Pyrrha?

You knew that you might die when you set out upon this road.

“Yes, sir,” Sunset whispered. “Though I would rather not.”

Councillor Emerald looked at her, and for a moment — for the first time — Sunset thought she saw a glimpse of pity on his face. “Well,” he said, “that is what you signed up for, I believe.”

“Probably, sir,” Sunset murmured. “So how is it that you would have me die for Vale?”

“Gloriously, if possible, but if not, then of necessity,” Councillor Emerald said. “As a huntress should. Your admirers may mourn you, but their image of you will endure untarnished.”

My admirers. Not too long ago, I would have been as overjoyed to learn I had admirers as I would have been to be invited to the home of the First Councillor. “You are very generous, sir.”

“How unfortunate to hear,” Councillor Emerald muttered. “I will send you missions, for you and you alone; as First Councillor, I have access to the job board, I will … create a huntsman to accept those missions I judge suitably dangerous and assign them to you. You will not involve your teammates in this.”

“No, I will not,” Sunset said. “They played no part in my decision; they should not suffer for the consequences of it.”

Councillor Emerald nodded. “If you succeed, then you will have done some good for Vale. If not … then the debt is paid. Do you understand?”

If there was one thing about this situation she regretted, it was that if she died on one of these missions for the First Councillor, she would be unable to keep her word to Lady Nikos. But that was hardly a reason to refuse. As for the rest … this was, in some respects, more generous than she deserved.

“I take it that it will never be over, sir.”

Councillor Emerald shook his head. “I own you now, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “And so does Vale.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Then I shall await your instructions, First Councillor.”

A Letter Home (New)

A Letter Home

The dorm rooms in Atlas were smaller than the rooms at Beacon, with four bunk beds — two across and two high — situated against the right-hand wall, with the duvet covers in royal blue, matching the strips of that same colour on either side of the midnight blue carpet that covered most, but not all, of the grey tiled floor. The window was high as the room itself, with dark metal lines crawling up it in slightly winding patterns, while desks for working sat opposite bunks against the left-hand wall. As Team RSPT had taken most of their stuff to Beacon, the dorm at Atlas where Rainbow and Ciel were staying — at least for now — was even more barren and austere than it was normally. The doors of Atlas Academy’s dorm rooms were automatic, like so much else about Atlas, and so, the door into RSPT’s Atlas dorm room slid open to admit Blake without anyone having to get up and let her in.

She walked inside, the tails of her new coat trailing slightly after her. “Good evening, Rainbow,” she said. “Ciel.”

Ciel was on the bottom bunk, out of sight of Rainbow Dash, but the latter heard her say, “Good evening, Blake.”

“Hey,” Rainbow said. “Nice outfit.”

“Thank you,” Blake said. “Rarity did a good job helping pick it out for me.”

“Rarity always does a good job picking outfits,” Rainbow said. She hesitated. “Well, almost always. Anyway, how was your tour of Atlas?”

“You have a very impressive city here,” Blake replied. “It’s very … shiny.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, you could say that. But is that a good thing to you?”

“I don’t think it matters,” Blake replied. “I’m going to make my choice based on more important considerations than the architecture or the look of a place.” She paused. “There aren’t very many faunus here, are there?”

“I … wouldn’t say that, necessarily,” Rainbow said. “I mean, there’s me, and Neon. There’s you.”

“I don’t count,” Blake said flatly.

“Okay, there’s … there’s Lycus Silvermane, Fourth year, Team Pastel.”

“Three.”

“Moondancer, who works in the lab and helped with Penny.”

“Four.”

“Specialist Amin, who graduated at the end of last year,” Rainbow said. “Pretty cool guy, too, you should meet him.”

“Five,” Blake said.

Rainbow hesitated. “Uh … Lemon Zest, who used to go to Crystal Prep.”

“Six.”

“That’s more than you can count on the fingers of one hand,” Rainbow pointed out.

Blake raised one eyebrow.

Rainbow grinned down at her from the top bunk. “You’re right,” she said. “There aren’t that many faunus here in Atlas.”

“I didn’t see a single one today.”

“Unless you make great boasts for your eyes, that does not prove that they were not there,” Ciel pointed out.

“Maybe not, but the chances of me missing all of them are pretty slim,” Blake replied.

Rainbow didn’t mention that there were more faunus in Low Town or Mantle; the fact that there were more faunus living in the poor, wretched parts of the kingdom than there were in Atlas was hardly an antidote to Blake’s point. “That’s why it’s important that we do our best,” she said. “We have to keep pushing so we can get faunus into the room, at the table, just like Rudi Antonio says in his book.”

“To what end, if faunus can’t even live in Atlas?” Blake asked.

“How is that ever going to change unless we can get faunus making the decisions?” Rainbow responded. “I like Councillor Cadenza — I’ll have to try and introduce you to her too — I respect her, she’s very smart, and she genuinely wants what’s best for Atlas, and I believe that she believes in equality. And that’s impressive, considering.”

“I’d rather hope it was the norm,” Blake murmured.

“The woman was kidnapped by the White Fang,” Rainbow reminded her, “and she escaped and was still willing to have a faunus at her wedding. I have to give her some credit for that.”

“The faunus aren’t the White Fang and vice versa,” Blake declared. “I’m … a little less inclined to give credit for the fact that someone was able to remember that.”

“There have been times in our acquaintance when you have failed to do so,” Ciel pointed out.

“Cadance is a good person,” Rainbow insisted. “Give her a chance, and I swear she’ll impress you. Of all the civilians on the Council, she is by far the best.”

Blake was silent for a moment. A smile fleeted across her face, and her voice acquired a hint of gentle teasing. “You said that so that you didn’t have to choose between her and the General, didn’t you?”

“I … may have, yeah,” Rainbow admitted. “But my point stands. She’s a good person, she does her best for Atlas—”

“But she’s not a faunus,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow sighed. “But we still have Low Town right underneath the city; most of them work up in Atlas; they do construction, maintenance—”

“I’m a little surprised that isn’t done by robots,” Blake observed. “So much seems to be here.”

“A lot,” Rainbow agreed. “But you can programme a robot to pick up litter, you can programme a robot to identify grimm and shoot at them, but you can’t programme a robot to be able to guess why you don’t have hot water in your house. Some things you need a person with intuition for.”

“So they get to keep Atlas’ water warm but not live here.”

“I didn’t say it was a good thing; it isn’t,” Rainbow said. “And that’s my point, we need to push forward so that we can get faunus into positions of authority where they can make the decisions that will help the people.”

“Our people,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow hesitated. “I … I don’t know if I have the right to say that,” she said softly.

“Are you a faunus?”

“What kind of a question is that?”

“And do you want to help them?”

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then they’re your people,” Blake said. “You can be Atlesian and a faunus; you can have two tribes, two layers of identity; isn’t that the point of this? Isn’t that what sets us apart from Sienna Khan’s White Fang?”

“And from the Happy Huntresses,” Ciel muttered.

“Who?” Blake asked.

“Never mind,” Rainbow said quickly.

“A certain group,” Ciel explained, despite Rainbow, “who believe that one can either be of Mantle or of Atlas, not both.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Rainbow assured Blake. “They’re not a problem, just a few troublemakers.” That was possibly selling them a little short, but Rainbow didn’t really want Blake to find out about Atlas’ problems with separatist movements. They were supposed to be making a good impression, after all. “But, apart from the fact that there aren’t enough faunus, you liked what you saw?”

“What I saw was impressive,” Blake said, “but as I said, 'like' doesn’t have much to do with it.” She paused. “We ran into Applejack at the memorial.”

“Right,” Rainbow said quietly. “That’s not surprising.”

“There is a saying,” Ciel said. “At some point, you will run into everyone at the memorial.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Rainbow said. She looked down at Blake. “Don’t get the wrong idea about These Are My Jewels, okay?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “And what is the wrong idea?”

“That it’s … that they’re the ones who matter,” Rainbow said. “I mean, of course they matter, but they matter because … every face up there, everyone who has ever had their photo put up there, everyone who has ever had flowers left for them there, those are tragedies, every one. They’re not the goal; they’re not what we strive for. We honour them, and we recognise that sometimes, you don’t have a choice but to put your body between danger and those who rely on us … and even if there was another way, we honour them regardless, because it would be … anyway, the point is that if all we wanted to do was sacrifice the jewels of Atlas, we could do that without the ships and the bombs and the androids. But we do all of those things because the aim is not to die for Atlas; it’s to live for her.”

“'No one ever won a war by dying for his kingdom,'” Ciel declared. “'But by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his.' Pardon my language.”

“A quote, I presume,” Blake said.

“General Colton,” Ciel said. “The Valish officer who—”

“I know who General Colton is,” Blake said. She glanced up at Rainbow Dash. “Has he turned up in the book Tukson lent you yet?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten through the Great War stuff,” Rainbow said. “She doesn’t spend as long on that as I thought she might.”

“Sienna Khan was writing with an eye to expounding on politics; the Great War offered less opportunity to do that,” Blake replied. “And besides, the Mistralian front in the Great War was — thanks in no small part to Ares Claudandus — something of a sideshow, and neither he nor his principal lieutenants were involved in any of the more prominent theatres.”

“Lucky them, considering,” Rainbow muttered.

Blake nodded. She gestured to one of the chairs sitting against the other wall. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” Rainbow replied.

Blake got the chair, dragging it across the floor until she was sitting close to the bunks. “So, what do you think so far?”

“He was an impressive soldier, wasn’t he?” Rainbow said.

“Sienna rates him as great a warrior as the Last King of Vale,” Blake said. “I disagree. I think Claudandus was better.”

“That is quite a claim,” Ciel observed.

“The Last King accomplished great things, but he had a nation behind him and an army that he had had time to prepare for the conflict that he must have seen coming many years before the storm broke,” Blake explained. “Ares Claudandus took a bunch of slaves who had been beaten down, degraded, whose masters had done everything in their power to make them feel as though they were no better than animals, and he fashioned them into an army capable of standing up to any other in Remnant. If you’ve read the section on the Great War, then you’ll already know that they went up against Colton, Vale’s best general after the king himself, leading a Valish army, and they beat him tactically and strategically and sent him home with his tail between his legs.”

“It’s impressive,” Rainbow said. “I’m not sure about all the backstabbing, though.”

“You don’t think it was necessary?” Blake asked.

“I would appreciate a little context,” Ciel said.

“When the Great War began, the main Mistralian army under Lord Rutulus drove the Valish westward to the mountains,” Blake explained. “There, they were stymied by the Valish defences in the pass, and an attempt by Mantle to break the stalemate by landing in the north of Vale and marching south was also blocked.”

“I am aware of that,” Ciel said softly.

“However, Vale also planned to break the stalemate by sending a relatively small army under General Colton to land in Anima and attack Mistral directly. The plan was to raise the faunus in arms with a promise of freedom,” Blake went on.

“And it worked; thousands and thousands of faunus flocked to join Colton’s army,” Rainbow Dash. “And one of them was Ares Claudandus. He started with about a hundred faunus who had all worked on his master’s plantation, and he drilled them until they were the best unit in the whole army. And then he worked his way up, gathering more and more soldiers under his leadership. And all the while he was fighting for Vale, he was secretly negotiating with the Mistralians; he promised that if they abolished slavery, then he would switch sides and fight for them.”

“And when they did — if only because they didn’t have many other cards to play — he did,” Blake said. “So, from a certain point of view, he kept his word.”

“It does not sound as though he kept his word to General Colton,” Ciel pointed out.

“General Colton wasn’t going to stick around when the war ended, and no matter what happened, the war was never going to end with Vale occupying Mistral,” Blake said. “Some of Ares’ later actions bother me, but I can see why he switched sides like that; as a faunus, he had to do what was best for his people, and that meant putting himself in a position where he could deal with Mistral after the war. He thought that he had a better chance of doing that as a Mistralian general than as someone who had fought for the enemy.” Blake looked at Rainbow. “Like you, he thought it would be important to have a faunus in the room when the fate of his people was decided.”

“It didn’t help; they were all set to ship the faunus out to Menagerie,” Rainbow said.

“True, but…” Blake hesitated. “As Sienna Khan says, Ares Claudandus was a faunus first, but he was also a Mistralian second. I think … I believe he genuinely wanted to fight for Mistral, if they would have him and set his people free.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied. “That’s not something I expected when I started reading. The guy was … kind of a patriot, wasn’t he?”

Blake nodded. “Perhaps too much so, in the end.”

“No spoilers,” Rainbow said.

Blake snorted. “Okay, I’ll let you get there by yourself.”

“So, if I may ask, what happened in the war?” Ciel asked. “How did he defeat General Colton?”

“Through sheer guts, by the sound of it,” Rainbow said.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Blake said.

“They deliberately charged the front lines to show how brave they were,” Rainbow pointed out.

“True,” Blake allowed. “But for a good reason. Why don’t you read it?”

Rainbow picked up the book, flicking back a few pages to the point just after Ares Claudandus had switched sides, joining with Mistral against the Valish. “Let’s see … ‘having no other cards to play, the Emperor’ … okay, here it is. ‘Colton, in his dispatches back to Vale, described the effect of the Imperial proclamation as electrifying; that is because he was unaware of for how long, and how patiently, Ares had prepared the ground in expectation of this moment. In truth, the effect was less that of an electric shock and more the eruption of a volcano: the moment when forces long gestating out of sight spring into open view. The faunus troops, evading all efforts to disarm or detain them, deserted en masse, and immediately turned their arms against those who had bestowed them. Colton raged against this treachery, but Ares responded with a scornful letter, reminding Colton that he had not escaped from plantation slavery to become a bondsman to Colton or the King of Vale; he was a free man, and free to choose his own path and that of his people.

“‘General Colton soon discovered that it was far easier to march through Anima as a friend of the faunus than it was as their enemy. At every place one might conceive an ambush, there, Ares had set a trap; the Valish would be harried on the march, yet when they pursued those who shot at them, they found only labourers with their hoes and shovels — yet every labourer was hostile to them now; every hill pass was held, and every fortress defended with a dogged determination that astonished Valish and Mistralian alike. Colton ordered a brigade to capture the fort at Praesentum, but Crixus and a few hundred fighters defended it so fiercely that soon, the entire Valish army was engaged in the siege. One night, a ragged, half-starved faunus approached the Valish line; he claimed he was a deserter, and that many others were contemplating taking that step. The Valish gave him food and water, and then he stole a horse and galloped through their lines: he was no deserter at all, but a messenger with word for Ares.

“‘But Ares knew that if he merely subjected Colton to the death of a thousand cuts, he and his soldiers would be thought little better than brigands by Mistralians eager to dismiss them. He needed to defeat the Valish in pitched battle, and so, he gathered all his strength and marched to the relief of Crixus at Praesentum. Colton withdrew to open ground, where he could better guard against ambushes, and offered battle there. Ares accepted eagerly, drawing up his troops in line of battle; some of his fighters did not have guns, only spears if that; these, he placed in the centre of the formation.

“‘Both captains addressed their men before the battle began. Colton dwelt on the victories that they had won in the north and how, having defeated the pride of Mantle, it would be shameful to be defeated in turn by a rabble of slaves. Still he did not comprehend against whom he fought and what power there is in the cause of liberty. It was a lesson many were to learn in the days and years to come. For his part, Claudandus reminded his fellows of what was at stake in this battle and the rewards of victory that would accrue to them. “How often,” he asked them, “have you laboured in the fields and heard the revels of your masters in the great house? How often have you served wine in the halls of your masters and come and gone as you were bidden? I tell you that if we win this battle, and drive these invaders from our soil, then we shall be free folk forevermore, and those who come after us shall not know the whip or the chain, but they shall dance in the great houses, and they shall drink wine in the great halls, and we shall be the equals of the grandest humans!” Oh, how revealing is this, what Ares aimed at? Not to tear down the society of Mistral but to join it. This was to cause much grief for him and for the faunuskind, but for now, it fired the bellies of the freedmen.

“‘They attacked from the front, advancing at a flat run over open ground. Colton had promised his men that the slaves would break at the first volley, but the first volley crashed home, and they only ran faster towards their enemies. More volleys were fired, faunus fell, but with every faunus that fell, they closed up the ranks and continued to advance without faltering. Boukman, leading the left flank, was killed, and his followers took up his name as their battle cry as they pressed on nonetheless. Crixus, on the right flank, was shot in the arm, but refused to retire until the battle had been decided. Three shots passed through Ares’ coat, but he himself was not struck by any of them, and it was from this that the first stories about the magical plume of his hat that would protect him from harm originated.

“‘The faunus advanced, and the more they advanced, the more discomfited the Valish became. When the faunus could see the whites of their enemies’ eyes, they halted. They were fired upon, the Valish poured shot and shell into their midst. The faunus closed up their ranks, and every warrior who had a gun presented it towards the Valish. They fired a single volley, devastating in its effectiveness, and then they charged, shrieking like devils, falling upon their enemies with bayonets, knives, spears, axes, farming tools. These were men who had lived with the threat of death for every moment of their lives; there had never been an hour, much less a day, when they could not have perished in some grotesque fashion upon the whim of their master. Having lived with the possibility that they might have their rears stuffed with fire dust and then ignited, death by gunshot or bayonet thrust had no terrors for them. Even so, the Valish might have won the day yet by committing their reserves, except that — in spite of all Colton’s caution — Ares Claudandus managed to spring an ambush on him after all, having sent his nephew, Antoninus, with a thousand troops on a long march which brought them behind the Valish lines. The Valish fled in disarray, and Ares soon recaptured for Mistral all which he had helped the Valish conquer.’”

“Impressive,” Ciel conceded. “And yet, as you say, Rainbow, I must confess to a certain unease with the treachery involved. Yes, a free man is free to change his mind, but that does absolve him from censure for it.”

“It’s easy to be honourable when your position is strong and secure,” Blake pointed out.

“And yet, it is when we are at our weakest and most vulnerable that it is most important not to lose sight of those higher qualities that make us civilised people,” Ciel replied.

“But Ares Claudandus was not civilised,” Blake declared. “He had been born a slave, he taught himself to read in a time when he could have been killed if he’d been caught, he never learned to write in his own hand — he dictated that reply to Colton to a secretary. Can someone brought up in those circumstances, who saw what might be the only chance in his lifetime or longer to achieve freedom for his people, really be blamed that he didn’t observe all the niceties in order to reach his goal?”

Ciel was quiet for a moment, down there in the bottom bunk. “It strikes me,” she said softly. “That Sienna Khan might defend herself in much the same way.”

Blake was silent for a moment, before a slight chuckle escaped her lips. “I really don’t know how she’d take that comparison,” she admitted. “On the one hand, to be compared to one of the leaders of the freedom struggle would be a great honour, but on the other, as you’ll see, she doesn’t really like Ares that much. She has a lot of disagreements with him as the book goes on, and when I was with her, she would often talk about the mistakes he made. She’d probably prefer to be compared to Crixus.”

“He’s going to be important later, then?” Rainbow asked.

“Oh, very much so,” Blake replied.

Rainbow nodded absently. “So … how long did you spend with Sienna Khan?”

Blake tapped at her knees with her fingers for a moment. “Three years, almost four,” she said. “From when I left my parents until Adam was sent to command of the Vale Chapter, and I went with him.”

“Do you ever miss them?” asked Rainbow.

“Sienna, or my parents?”

“Either? Both?” Rainbow said. “It’s up to you, really.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Sienna … no, not really. She was kind to me, indulgent even; she taught me an awful lot, and I get the feeling — I hope, anyway — that she would have protected me from Adam, but… she is the reason it took me so long to break with Adam and the White Fang in the first place; she’s the one who spent so long convincing me that what we were doing was right and just. No, I don’t miss her. Because, if I was with her, I wouldn’t be here, if that doesn’t sound trite.”

“And your parents?” Ciel murmured.

“I…” Blake fell silent for a moment. “I regret the way that I left things with my parents. I wish that I had … I wish that we had parted in a different spirit. They … they didn’t approve of my choices, and I was— I was downright scathing about theirs.” She glanced away. “I don’t regret … I do regret … I do, and I do not regret my choices, I regret the immediate consequence and do not regret the longer consequences which brought me here. I wouldn’t wish myself to Menagerie at their side.”

“No?” Rainbow said. “Chieftain’s daughter? Some might call that a pretty sweet deal. Some might call that a pretty powerful deal as well. I mean, we talk about getting a faunus in the room … on Menagerie, you’d own the room.”

“A little room,” Blake said. “With few visitors. Yes, my father is the Chieftain of Menagerie, but what is that worth? What is Menagerie to the outside world? A little land, unrecognised, not part of the system of the world created after the Great War, a place unthought of and out of the way, and its chieftain someone of little note. I was able to use my real name at Beacon, and nobody guessed who I really was; doesn’t that say something about what little regard my family is held in in Remnant? I could do more good here than I ever could in Menagerie; I could do more good at Beacon than I ever could at Menagerie. But, all the same … I regret that I parted from my parents the way I did.”

Rainbow looked down at Blake, as Blake herself looked down at the floor, but in Rainbow’s mind’s eye, it was not Blake’s parents she imagined but her own, sailing away to Menagerie.

Perhaps Blake wasn’t the only one who ought to wish that they’d parted in a different spirit.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she said. “I just—”

“It’s fine,” Blake assured her. “You were only … it’s fine.”

“Anyway,” Rainbow said. “You had a good day?”

“I’m not sure that I ought to describe a day in which I visited a war memorial as good,” Blake said. “But it wasn’t a bad day.” She smiled briefly. “How’s Penny?”

“Her father has started working on her,” Rainbow said. “Hopefully, she’ll be up and talking — with her own voice — before too long.” She paused for a moment. “Hey, Blake, can I ask you something?”

“You shouldn’t answer this,” Ciel declared.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because it will not do any good,” Ciel said.

“That doesn’t mean that we should close our eyes,” Rainbow insisted.

“What is it?” Blake asked.

Rainbow climbed down from the top bunk, careful not to leap since she should have easily hit Blake. “Do you think … I know that you’re not that close to Penny, but you know what she is, which makes you kind of objective, I guess, but what do you think…? Do you think that Penny ought to be freer, to live her own life and make her own choices?”

Blake let the silence linger in the room for so long that it started to become uncomfortable. Rainbow shifted awkwardly from side to side, waiting for a response. Blake herself licked her lips, and played with her hair with one hand.

“You do not have to say anything,” Ciel said softly.

“I … wasn’t really aware that Penny wasn’t free to live her own life and make her own choices,” Blake said carefully.

“That might be said to prove that the infringements on her freedom are so minor as to be beneath notice,” Ciel suggested.

“But Rainbow seems to have noticed them,” Blake pointed out.

“Penny was created to serve the Kingdom of Atlas,” Ciel said.

“But she doesn’t want to?”

“She might not,” Rainbow said. “If not right now, then one day. She might want something different out of her life. And I’m worried that she wouldn’t be able to have it.”

Blake leaned back in her chair. “There is an obvious comparison to be made here,” she pointed out.

Rainbow cringed. “That’s what Twilight said, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“An overblown comparison,” Ciel insisted. “Penny is happy.”

“The slaveowners maintained that their slaves were happy,” Blake pointed out.

“Penny is genuinely happy, you know that!” Ciel cried. “This isn’t my claim in the teeth of the evidence; this is the truth!”

“The truth is that Penny doesn’t like you nearly as much as you like her,” Rainbow said. “That isn’t fair, but I do understand it.” She paused for a moment. “You might feel like her sister, but will she ever feel like yours while you’re keeping the keys?”

Ciel pursed her lips together. “It is … it is an honourable thing to fight for Atlas, a noble thing and worthy of the highest hearts and of the highest hearts from all the rest; it is no mean punishment to which Penny is…”

“Condemned?” Blake suggested.

“Indemnified,” Ciel insisted. “If you feel that our service is so unworthy of consideration, then why are you here?”

“That’s a ridiculous comparison, and you know it,” Blake said, keeping her voice calm as she did so. “I’m here of my own choice, and I will make a choice. Penny hasn’t had that opportunity. Maybe she would choose everything that has been laid out for her anyway, or maybe—”

“'I want so much more than they’ve got planned,'” Rainbow whispered.

Ciel frowned. “That’s from—”

“Penny said it to me, on the day that we met Sapphire,” Rainbow explained. “Yes, it’s from a movie, from a movie that you showed her. She’s always wanted more. I don’t know if she knows exactly what she wants, but she’s always wanted more.”

“It cannot be,” Ciel declared. She stood up. “General Ironwood has indulged so much, but this? He will not permit it, and her father … it cannot be.”

“The status quo always seems too strong to be challenged,” Blake said. “But it is only by challenge, however forlorn the challenge may seem, that it is ever broken.”

Ciel frowned. “With … with all that we know, and all that is opposed to us—”

“The fact that there’s an actual honest evil out there makes it even more important that we be the good guys, don’t you think?” Rainbow asked.

“Even if it means discarding a vital…” Ciel trailed off before she could actually refer to Penny as a weapon. “I do not find this an easy question.”

“Neither do I, and I hate it,” Rainbow muttered. She ran one hand through her many-coloured hair. “Sorry, Blake, this isn’t your business; you’ve got enough going on without—”

“No, it’s fine,” Blake assured her. “I’m … I’m glad to know what you’re thinking on this. It hadn’t occurred to me, but now that it has … well, anyway … oh, Mrs Breeze said to invite you for dinner, since I was headed this way.”

“That is really nice of her,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Ciel. “But—”

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Ciel said. “I’ll be fine.”

“In the empty cafeteria?” Rainbow asked. “Is it even open?”

“It’s not completely empty,” Ciel pointed out.

“I’m not going to just ditch you; that would be a real jackass move,” Rainbow said.

“Are you going to stay so that we can argue more about Penny?”

“No, I’m going to stay so that you’re not—”

“Why don’t I call Fluttershy and ask if they mind having you both over?” Blake suggested.

“A generous offer, but I would not wish to impose,” Ciel said. “I don’t know the family at all.”

“Neither do I, really,” Blake pointed out. “And you’ll never get the chance if you turn down invitations like this.”

“You make a very good point,” Ciel murmured, “and I am hardly swimming in better offers.”

“I’ll give Fluttershy a call,” Blake said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Tell her we won’t be over right away; I’ve got something to take care of first,” Rainbow said.

“What?” Blake asked.

“It doesn’t matter; it won’t take me that long,” Rainbow assured her. “I just need a second. And some privacy.”

“And as we are going out, we should probably shower and change,” Ciel added.

“I’ll join you in a second,” Rainbow said. Unlike at Beacon, the Atlas dorms didn’t have en suite facilities, so Ciel would have to go to the shower room down the hall. As would Rainbow herself, but for now, it would get Ciel out of the room.

“I’ll make the call, then,” Blake said, as Ciel gathered her toiletries and a dress — Rainbow didn’t pay much attention to what kind of dress it was — and they both, in quick succession, left the dorm room.

As the door slid shut behind them, Rainbow sat down at the desk. She grabbed a pen and a few sheets of loose paper that were sitting on the work surface and took a moment to think about what she wanted to say.

Having thought for a little bit – but not too long, because she hadn’t got all day – Rainbow started to write.

Dear Lady Belladonna,

You don’t know me, but my name is Rainbow Dash, and I’m a student at Atlas Academy. I’m also a friend of your daughter, Blake.

I know that that probably sounds weird, and you don’t have any reason to believe it, so I enclose this picture to prove that I do know Blake.

Rainbow got out her wallet. Several pictures, some more crumpled from repeated folding than others, nestled in the front section behind her bank card. The picture that Rainbow wanted, the picture that she fished out of her wallet and placed on the desk, was a photo of her and Blake standing on the Beacon cliffs, with the blue sky behind them. Their fingers were intertwined as Rainbow’s hand rested upon Blake’s shoulder.

They looked … happy, which was important. If Blake had looked miserable to be in Rainbow’s presence, then it wouldn’t have done much good with her mother at all.

My parents, Bow Hothoof Dash and Windy Whistles Dash, both residents of Kuo Kuana, can verify that the other girl in the picture is me and that I am who I say I am. Hopefully, this is enough to prove that I’m telling the truth.

Blake is my friend. I care a lot about her, and although she doesn’t know that I’m writing you this letter, I hope that she’ll forgive me when it all works out in the end. I know that Blake is sorry about the way that things ended between you, her father, and her, and once you read what I have to say, I hope that you’ll be able to forgive her.

Blake isn’t with the White Fang anymore. She quit almost a year ago now and has been studying at Beacon Academy to be a huntress. She almost got into trouble at the start of last semester when the police found out that she used to be part of the White Fang, but the Kingdom of Atlas granted her diplomatic immunity in exchange for her help stopping the White Fang who were very active in Vale at the time.

Although, if anyone asks, Blake was never really part of the White Fang but was actually an Atlesian spy on a long-term undercover assignment. That’s what the Valish Council told the press to save face.

Blake has been a great help to us; with her assistance, we arrested a major criminal ally of the White Fang, stopped a series of robberies, and uncovered a plot to launch a massive attack on Vale. Your daughter is, by any reasonable measure, a hero. She’s also a great person: smart, brave — a little too brave if you ask me, but let’s not get into that. Although she has abandoned the White Fang, she hasn’t abandoned her convictions and never hesitates to call out injustice when she sees it.

I admire her. I admire her a whole lot, and I think that you should be proud of her.

She is considering transferring to Atlas next year so that she can continue serving with us; I hope she does it because I think she could do great things here, but then, I’m sure she’ll do great things whatever she decides to do.

Unfortunately, our victory was not without cost, and although Blake was not hurt, she is sad about some of the things she had to do; with all due respect, I think that a letter from her parents letting her know that there are no hard feelings might lift her spirits.

I don’t know how things went down at the end, when you parted ways, and maybe I’m being impertinent to ask this, but I think if anyone deserves to be forgiven, Blake does, so I hope you’ll consider it.

At the very least, I hope it helps you to know that Blake is alive and well and in good company.

Yours,

Rainbow Dash

PS: I’m afraid I might have had to promise the bearer of this letter that you would pay them on receipt in order to stop them throwing the letter off the boat; I’m sorry to put you out of pocket, but if you can find some lien for them, that would be great.

PPS: Also enclosed is a letter for my parents; if you could deliver it to them, that would be very kind of you. They may ask for the photo of me and Blake for their scrapbook.

Rainbow pushed the letter to Lady Belladonna aside. She had covered all of one side and most of the other; hopefully, she’d gotten her point across.

Now she had to write to her own parents.

It was a little harder to think of what to say.

Nevertheless, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, Rainbow held her pen hovering over the blank page. What to say? What to say after so long?

She shouldn’t have left it this long, but what good was that now? She had left it for that long, so… what to say?

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to write to you, I have

Rainbow paused before she could write ‘I have been very busy.’ No, that was just barefaced excuse-making.

I have no excuse. I should have let you know how I was doing before now. I’m sorry, but I was just talking with a friend of mine, and she reminded me how lucky I am to have parents who agreed with the path I wanted to take and who supported me.

I’m sorry it took this long for me to appreciate that.

Twilight is well, physically, but she’s had a bit of a tough time this year; I can’t talk about what has happened because it’s classified, but I hope that it’s all over with now and Twi will start to feel better soon.

I have had to retake my first year at Atlas after my team broke up. We were on a training mission and, well, things didn’t go so great. Spearhead was injured; he’s okay now, with the help of a prosthetic leg, but he didn’t feel like returning to school, and he has now opened up an art gallery in Mantle where he is pursuing his passion. I wish him luck, and I should probably check in on him more often than I do.

Maud also decided that being a huntress was maybe not for her after all; she’s studying geology now at the Everton Institute.

Applejack took the year off.

Rainbow debated inwardly how much she could say about exactly how un-relaxing Applejack’s year off had ended up being.

She offered to take Fluttershy on a tour of Vale exploring the wilds and the wonders of nature. They ended up getting into some trouble with the White Fang, but we rescued them, and they are safe home now without a scratch on them. I’m not sure if Applejack will want to come back to Atlas next year, but I think she will anyway because that’s the kind of girl she is.

As for me, I was given a special assignment by General Ironwood, although I can’t say what it is. It was a great honour to be chosen, and although I haven’t always done the best job, I think in the end that I’ve done a pretty good job. I kept my teammates alive, which is the most important job that any team leader could have, and we helped save Vale from the White Fang, which would otherwise have done a lot more damage than they did and probably hurt the reputation of faunus everywhere.

As part of this assignment, I have two new teammates. Ciel Soleil is uptight and always argues with me, but I like her anyway. She keeps me honest and on my toes, and when she gets on my back, it’s usually for a good reason. She’s earnest, honest, dutiful, and disciplined; she’s what every Atlas soldier should aspire to be.

Penny

Again, Rainbow paused, wondering just what she could say about Penny.

Penny is sweet and innocent and seems very young. She’s very eager, but I worry that that’s more because she doesn’t really know what she’s eager for half the time. I let her down. I made a bad call in the field, and Penny was injured because of it. She doesn’t blame me, but that kind of makes it worse.

I want to protect her.

I feel kind of the way that I feel around Pinkie, that this is someone who needs somebody to look out for them, except with Penny, it’s even more so. I’m not sure that her father has her best interests at heart, but he’s plugged into all the top people in Atlas, so there’s nothing that my word can do against his reputation.

I want to keep her safe, but I don’t know how.

I want to show her that I care, even if she doesn’t think I do.

Sorry, this doesn’t mean anything to you, does it? The first letter you’ve gotten from me, and I’m just rambling on about stuff that you don’t care about and couldn’t do anything about even if you did. Sorry.

One thing that will interest you: I’ve been in Vale for most of this past year, and I ran into Gilda there. She is in management already, so she must be doing something right. She seemed healthy and happy, and I wish her all the best. I’m sure if she knew I was writing this, she’d send her love.

I also made a new friend while I was in Vale: Blake Belladonna, the High Chieftain’s daughter. She is also a huntress in training, and I had the honour to fight alongside her more than once. I’m not sure we could have saved Vale without her help. She’s inspired me to write this letter to you, but also to think about the way that the faunus are suffering down in Low Town where we used to live. I haven’t been back there in some time, but I realise now that I can’t ignore what’s going on down below. I’m a faunus too, and I have to try and help make things better, as we all do. We’ve quit the field and left it to the White Fang for too long.

I’ll try and write more frequently, although being that you live on Menagerie, it might take a while for the letters to get there.

Regardless, I will keep doing my best, and I hope that you keep living your best lives down by the beach.

Say hi to Gilda’s folks for me.

With all the love that you deserve,

Your daughter,

Rainbow Dash

Author's Note

Art by Seshirukun

Fear and Loss (New)

Fear and Loss

The streets of Vale were quiet, or at least quieter than they had been before, to Pyrrha’s recollection.

Vale was as large as Mistral, perhaps a little larger — if less steeped in history — and on Pyrrha’s visits into Vale, she had found the city streets to be as bustling as ever those of Mistral had been.

Not that she was particularly well-versed in all the flows and currents of movement down all the streets of Mistral — she had never claimed to be streetwise, nor had she denied having lived a sheltered, privileged life — any more than she was vastly familiar with Vale. But all the same, she could not remember it having ever been so quiet before.

The streets were not quite deserted, not yet, and not just because Pyrrha and her friends were walking down them, but there was a quiet to them; the footfall was — in Pyrrha’s opinion, admittedly, and equally admittedly drawn only from her own experience — down quite dramatically; instead of throngs moving down the streets like a river, human currents flowing into and out of the shops in an almost equal exchange that never lessened the overall volume of the surge, there were only individuals and small groups, and they moved with a palpable anxiety to their tread, eyes and faces darting around them. Children, in particular, were incredibly hard to come by. Pyrrha had noticed only a handful since they had gotten off the airship. The shop doors were open, but hardly anyone seemed to be coming out, much less going in. People moved with hurried steps, as if unwilling to linger out of doors for even a moment longer than necessary.

It wasn’t difficult to guess why it should be so. Since the start of this academic year, Vale had endured crime, terrorism, and finally, a grimm attack; although the news declared that the Valish were handling all of these repeated shocks with a stoic determination, although the new First Councillor urged everyone to live their lives as normal without disruption, it seemed to Pyrrha now that not only were his urgings falling upon deaf ears, but at the same time, the assertions of the news appeared to be based more in hope than in reality.

Especially when those same news sources were grimly predicting huge losses for the hospitality industry.

That, at least, was substantiated by the evidence of Pyrrha’s own eyes: the pubs and cafes that they passed as they walked down the street all had signs out in front of their doors proclaiming that they were open for business in ways that made them seem ever so slightly desperate.

Mind you, considering the sparse and empty states of some of them — the cafes where you could see in through the windows and see for yourself exactly how many empty tables there were — Pyrrha could accept that they had cause for desperation.

It seemed that, despite the presence of police and soldiers on the streets — they had passed five police cars since leaving the skydock, and there were as many soldiers on patrol in some streets as there were ordinary people going about their business — the people of Vale did not feel safe in their own city.

Pyrrha felt sorry for them. She felt sorry for all of the Valish, whose city had been battered and hammered and wounded, but strangely enough, she felt most sorry for the people working in the empty bars and coffee shops, whose jobs would be at risk if things didn’t turn around soon.

Hopefully, the Vytal Festival would restore their fortunes; although thinking of the Vytal Festival reminded Pyrrha that her own kingdom had not yet made up its mind what it intended to do about the Vytal Festival just yet, although the council of the court was expected soon. If Atlesians and Mistralians decided to stay at home, as so many Valish were staying at home, then all these places might struggle to survive.

Although she found it hard to condemn them for staying at home after what they’d been through. It was one thing to say, as she had to Sunset, that they must live on, but there was a difference between that and needless risk. If people had decided that going out represented the latter rather than the former, then who was Pyrrha Nikos to tell them they were wrong?

Pyrrha was out, not only with her own teammates but also with Team YRBN — minus, of course, Blake, who had reached Atlas by now. Arslan had joined them too, claiming boredom and the need for a change of scenery. She might even have been telling the truth.

In any case, their party of eight was the largest that Pyrrha had seen on the streets that day as they wandered ever so slightly aimlessly through the quiet Vale. Aside from just getting out of school, no one had anything that they pressingly wanted to acquire — at least not that they’d mentioned — and so, they simply walked, heading in the vague direction of the ice cream parlour where Jaune’s friend worked, sometimes drifting into shops that were empty or nearly so as the fancy took one of them.

“It sure is quiet, huh?” Ruby observed, matching Pyrrha’s own observations.

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured.

“So it appears,” Pyrrha said.

“Is everyone really staying home?” Yang asked. “I mean what are they doing? Watching TV?”

“Some of them are probably watching movies too, or playing video games,” Arslan said. “But yeah, TV watching will be a big part of it; they’ll be switching to the news every so often to check if it’s safe to come out.”

“But it is safe to come out,” Yang declared.

“Is it?” Arslan asked.

“Yes!” Yang cried. “We beat the grimm, the tunnel got sealed up, the White Fang got nearly wiped out. I mean, in a way, it’s kind of safer now than it was before all of this started.”

“I’m not sure that a lot of people feel that way,” Jaune said. “I get what you’re saying, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who actually feels safer now than they did when they could … when they could just pretend that the White Fang weren’t a problem and that the grimm were always going to stay away.”

“When it was morning in Vale,” Sunset muttered. “Like Councillor Aris’ campaign speech.”

“It doesn’t feel like morning anymore,” Jaune said, and said it so disconsolately that Pyrrha didn’t know whether he was talking about the Valish or about himself.

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“So … what?” Yang asked. “People are just going to hide in their homes getting takeout delivered for the rest of their lives?”

“No,” Arslan said. “It’ll pass.”

“Do you really think so?” Jaune asked her.

Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand, her fingers disappearing into the untidy mane of her hair. “Where I grew up, these kinds of robberies that got the city into such a tizzy — as I understand — and started the pebbles falling on your councillor getting thrown out, that was all a Friday night 'round ours on the lower slopes. Where I grew up, we had real gangsters, the kind that would have ripped out this Roman Torchwick’s throat with their teeth.”

“I think you’re underestimating Roman Torchwick a little,” Pyrrha said mildly.

“And you don’t know the people who ran the neighbourhoods down the hill, P-Money,” Arslan replied. “There were killings, there were firefights, and nobody bothered to cover their tracks at all because they knew that no one was going to touch them for it.”

“What about the police?” Ruby asked.

“Scared or paid off,” Arslan said.

Ruby frowned. “Was this before or after the police commissioner got killed?”

“That didn’t make any difference as far down as I’m talking about,” Arslan said. “Yes, they put the criminals in their place, as it were, but their place was down where we lived. Some of them kept grimm as pets, to execute people they didn’t like.”

“That sounds incredibly unwise,” Ren said.

“It was,” Arslan said. “One night one of them got out, everyone barricaded their doors and windows until a huntsman finally showed up to kill it.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember that.”

“You didn’t exactly live in that neighbourhood,” Arslan pointed out.

“I know,” Pyrrha conceded. “But I’m surprised that a grimm getting loose in the city wasn’t reported on. I’m surprised it didn’t cause a panic.”

“That’s probably why it wasn’t reported on,” Arslan said. “Anyway, my point is that after something like that — or after the worst stuff, anyway — people would be on edge for a little bit. They’d stay indoors more than usual, they’d only go out for necessities … and then, after a few days, if nothing else happened, then everyone would calm down again, and things would get back to normal. Because you’re right: it’s no way to live, but you can’t blame people for being scared, and you can’t blame scared people for being cautious. It’s just the way things are, and the press trying to tell everyone what to think or some politician telling people what to do isn’t going to change that. People know how they feel, and sometimes, how they feel has to be left to change on its own.”

“It’s not about being scared,” Nora said. “We’re all scared, and there’s so much to be scared of; the difference is what you do with that fear; you can’t let it control you.”

“Do you want to knock on some doors and tell people that?” Arslan asked.

Nora made a wordless rumbling noise in the back of her throat but said nothing.

“Hopefully things will pick up, just like you say,” Yang said.

The group lapsed into silence for a moment, the sounds of their footfalls on the street the only noise that they were making, before Pyrrha said, “Arslan, you said that that grimm that got loose from those rather foolish criminals was killed by a huntsman.”

“Yeah,” Arslan said. “Why?” She grinned. “Please don’t tell me you’re astonished that I didn’t have a moment where I realised that, after a huntsman saved my life, I would be inspired to work to become a huntress myself and save others the way that I had been saved. That’s a little bit of a cliché, don’t you think? And anyway, it’s not like the grimm got into our house, and the huntsman got there in the nick of time.”

“I suppose that was rather trite of me,” Pyrrha conceded. “I apologise.”

“So why do you want to become a huntress?” Ruby asked.

“She doesn’t,” Sunset said.

“Really?” Yang asked. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Arslan said. “It’s … okay, it’s true, that the reason I went to Haven was so that I could fight in the Vytal Festival.”

“Really?” Ruby asked, sounding rather disappointed.

“Don’t say it like that; it’s not that unworthy a motive,” Arslan said.

“Actually, yeah, it is,” Ruby said. “Huntsmen and huntresses are meant to protect people, not fight in contests to make themselves look good. The tournament is for fun; it’s not the reason why we ought to be here. What if you took a spot from someone who understood what it really means to be a huntress?”

Arslan folded her arms. “That’s a lot of self-righteousness in a few words. I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

“Well, maybe I don’t appreciate—”

“Ruby,” Pyrrha cut her off, a warning in her tone. She had her disagreements with Arslan and her attitude, but the Golden Lion had her pride, and if Ruby let her words run away with her, then it could easily end in a duel.

Arslan met Pyrrha’s gaze for a moment. “In any case, that was before.”

“Before the Breach?” Jaune guessed.

“Mmhmm,” Arslan replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“None of us had,” Ren pointed out.

“Yeah, but I bet some of you had imagined something like it, hadn’t you?” Arslan said. “I hadn’t. When I think back on it … when I imagine what that could have done if it had shown up in Mistral …”

“It scarcely bears thinking about,” Pyrrha murmured.

“So maybe you’re right,” Arslan said to her. “Maybe there is some value in all of this, this line of work. Maybe there’s some value in committing to it.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to leave the arena? You’re going to retire and become a huntress?”

Arslan shrugged. “I’m thinking about it. I haven’t made up my mind one hundred percent yet, but … when I think about what those grimm would have done back home. Beowolves swarming down the lower slopes. Ursai smashing the neighbourhood to pieces. You were right, Pyrrha: someone needs to stand up.”

“And that someone is you?” Pyrrha asked gently. “What about all your fans?”

Arslan grinned. “I’ve actually been thinking about that too; it occurs to me that the only reason why nobody knows about huntsmen and huntresses is because nobody tries to publicise them. But you and me, we’re already famous, so there’s no reason why we can’t publicise ourselves! Or have ourselves publicised, at least! Even if I do decide to become a huntress, it’s no reason I have to fire my agent. I’ve got it all worked out for if I make a go of this: I’m going to find someone who is willing to travel around with me and chronicle my adventures on a blog, or serialised in a magazine, or both. Preferably someone my age and good-looking so that our frisson of romantic tension will provide a long-running subplot to all the action.”

“I’m still not sure you’re taking this as seriously as it should be taken,” Ruby said.

“If a thing is worth doing,” Arslan replied, “it is worth other people knowing that you’re doing it and how. Jaune, you should learn to write.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha declared, asperity lacing her voice, “is my partner, not my biographer.”

“I think that sounds like a pretty great idea,” Nora said, “Ren—”

“No,” Ren said firmly. “I’m not doing that.”

“It does sound like a fine idea,” Sunset said, although her voice was soft, and Pyrrha, at least, had to strain her ears a little to hear it. “I hope that you still feel like carrying it off by the time that you graduate.”

“Is there any reason why I wouldn’t?” Arslan asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “You may find,” she said, “that there comes a time at which the desire for glory, for fame, the desire to be lauded and praised above all others … it all fades to nothing. A moment when you reach … the end of vanity. When you realise that all the honours that you sought, all the things you thought you wanted … they mean nothing. Less than nothing.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured. Is there nothing that can be said to lift you out of this abyss?

“Then what’s left?” Arslan asked.

“Friendship,” Sunset said, the corner of her lip twitching upwards. "Love.”

“Easy for you to say; half my teammates can’t stand me,” Arslan muttered. “So it’ll have to be glory, as it always has been. That … and inspiring the generations that come after. You can say that my ideas aren’t fitting for a huntress, but why not? Why shouldn’t people know what huntsmen and huntresses do for them? Why shouldn’t kids learn that they don’t have to be afraid of the monsters, that they can grow up strong enough to kill them?”

“Well … when you put it like that,” Ruby murmured.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this for something that you haven’t actually made up your mind to do,” Pyrrha observed.

“It’s eighty-twenty,” Arslan said. “If I manage to beat you in this tournament, I’ll do it for sure.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “It would almost be worth throwing the fight in order to see that happen.”

Arslan pointed at her, the smile sloughing off her face. “Do that, P-Money, and I will never forgive you.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “That’s why I said 'almost.'”

“So, you’re definitely staying for the Vytal Festival, then?” Jaune asked. “I know that Mistral and Haven weren’t really sure—”

“What?” Yang demanded. “Haven’s going to pull out of the Vytal Festival?!”

“Not necessarily,” Pyrrha said.

“Haven is thinking about pulling out of the Vytal Festival?” Yang rephrased. “Can they even do that?”

“No one can be forced to fight in the tournament against their will,” Ren remarked.

“But if they do that,” Ruby said, “then what does that mean? What kind of a symbol of unity is it when one of the four schools doesn’t want to take part?”

“There’ll still be Mistralians competing,” Nora pointed out. “Like me and Ren and Pyrrha.”

“And I’m not backing out, no matter what Professor Lionheart or the Council says, even if I have to solo all three rounds,” Arslan declared.

“But still,” Ruby murmured. “Are they really thinking about pulling out? Taking their students home?”

Pyrrha nodded. “There are some who are as scared as anyone here in Vale. But nothing has been decided yet. And I hope that they will decide to continue onto the festival and the tournament.”

“It would be kind of late to turn back now, when everything has kind of settled down,” Yang said.

“Except that Cinder’s still out there,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha did not miss the way that Sunset flinched as she said that, and she did not like it.

“Yeah, but she’s just one person,” Yang said. “She’s got no allies left, and she’s got no plan, so what’s she going to do?”

Pyrrha nodded. It was true that Yang was not entirely correct — Cinder was not just one person; she was a finger on the hand of Salem — but her general assessment was undeniable: Cinder had no more followers, no more grimm, no nothing. Her plan had failed. She was defeated, if only for the moment. And though it might be only for the moment, that moment would hopefully last until after the festival was over.

Surely she could not devise a new plan so soon after the failure of the first?

At that moment, before silence could settle too deeply upon the group, the giant screen on the nearby corner, which had been playing various advertisements for health and beauty products, began to broadcast a news bulletin.

“Good afternoon and welcome to The Lavender Report with me, Lisa Lavender. We go live now to Regent Street where First Councillor Aspen Emerald is giving a press conference.”

The image of Lisa Lavender in the studio, seated upon her red sofa, was replaced by the exterior of the First Councillor’s residence, with a podium set up in front of the door just as it had been when Aspen Emerald had taken office not too long ago.

And once more, Councillor Emerald stood behind the podium, resting his hands upon the varnished wood.

He looked straight into the camera. “People of Vale,” he said, “friends and citizens. When I took office, I promised that the first priority of my administration would be the security of Vale. That is, as a former colleague reminded me, the first duty of any administration, and in the current circumstances, it is clearly not a duty that can be ignored.

“I know that many of you have grave concerns about the security of our kingdom, and though I wish to assure you now that this Council is doing everything it can to make this kingdom safe and secure against all threats and enemies, I must be honest with you that some of these measures will take time. Negotiations to purchase ships and weapons, the reports on the readiness or otherwise of our civic infrastructure, the training and possible expansion of our defence forces, all of these things will take time. But, while the Council works to shore up our defences and ensure that there will be no repeat of the Breach, I propose to utilise at once Vale’s greatest resource: you, the people of Vale.” He gestured at the camera and, thence, to everyone who might be watching.

“The Council has decided to form a new corps of volunteers who, in case of emergency, will resist any assault on Vale by any means necessary. Any volunteers, and we appeal for as many volunteers as have the courage and the capacity to serve, will not be required for continuous service, although you are encouraged to drill and train against the unlooked for eventuality of another assault upon our kingdom. You will not be paid, but you will be given uniforms, and you will be armed. This new corps will be known as the Home Guard, and you — the people of Vale — will be the last bastion of the defence of Vale in extremis. Your safety, and your security, will be in your hands.”

“That was the First Councillor with a radical announcement. Joining me is retired—”

“Are they serious?” Ren demanded, with an aggression in his voice that Pyrrha had never heard before. “They’re going to arm anybody, untrained civilians, and tell them to fight the grimm if there’s another attack?”

“I know it’s not the greatest idea—” Jaune began.

“It’s a terrible idea!” Ren snapped. “If just anyone could fight off the grimm, then why would anyone need to go to combat school, why would anyone need to go to Beacon?”

Jaune looked down at his feet, his feet which shuffled uncomfortably upon the pavement, and said nothing.

Ren went on, “Even someone who was skilled and trained, someone who knew how to use weapons, how to fight and survive, even someone like that would struggle against the creatures of grimm, even they wouldn’t be able to stand up to them. People will join this ‘Home Guard’ because they have a fantasy of defending their homes, but in the end, all that they’ll be is fodder!”

“Ren,” Nora murmured.

“Stupid,” Ren growled. “Senseless. Doesn’t anyone ever learn anything from—?”

“Ren!” Nora cried, grabbing him by the hand.

Ren gasped, his gaze flying to her, looking down on her. He looked as though he half wanted to recoil from Nora’s grasp, but he did not. He fell silent, and his breathing seemed to grow heavier.

“It’s okay,” Nora said, her own voice calm. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ren’s chest rose and fell. “Will it?” he asked. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” Nora said, gently and with great tenderness. “I know … I understand, but …” She smiled up at him. “All those people won’t be necessary, because we’ll be there. We’ll stand in front of them, so that they don’t get hurt.”

Ren hesitated for a moment. “We will? We will.”

Nora nodded. “We will.”

“You bet we will,” Yang added.

Ren closed his eyes. “Jaune, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have snapped at you—”

“It’s okay,” Jaune assured him. “You … you made a good point.”

“We’re not even talking about soldiers here; we’re talking about people,” Ruby said. “And if people could defend themselves against the grimm … well, there wouldn’t be a need for huntsmen, would there?”

“He’s doing what he thinks is right,” Sunset said.

“I’m sure,” Pyrrha said, “but I think the First Councillor may be as afraid as his people.”

“Hmm,” Yang murmured. “Let’s hope that sorts itself out after a few days too, huh?”

They walked on, down the unusually empty streets, where even the betting shops that had been so full of hollow-eyed addicts before now were bereft of custom; it seemed almost that the people most numerous on the streets were beggars.

“Spare any lien? Spare any lien, ladies and gents, so I can get a bed for the night?” one asked. He looked … it felt rather cruel even to think so, but he looked rather less ragged than most of the homeless one saw on the streets of Vale; he also looked less prepared for it, lacking any sort of warm coat or blanket with which to cover himself, only a lightweight jacket which seemed like it wouldn’t do much when the cold set in. “Please, ladies and gents, I lost my home in the Breach; any spare lien so I can get a bed for the night?”

Sunset stopped abruptly, halting dead in her tracks even as the rest of the group kept moving for a little while before they noticed.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset didn’t reply; she crossed the road — there was no need to look both ways — to where the homeless man sat in his lightweight jacket. “You… you lost your home in the Breach?” she asked.

He nodded. “Atlesians blew it up when they dropped all their bombs. Lost everything I own. I know it had to be done in order to keep the grimm out, but what am I supposed to do now, eh?”

“You don’t have anywhere else to go?” Ruby asked as the others crossed the road to join Sunset. “No friends, family?”

He shook his head. “No, I…” He blinked. “You’re Sunset Shimmer, aren’t you?” He looked at Pyrrha, then at Yang, “And you’re Pyrrha Nikos, and you … you were all there, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t,” Ruby admitted shamefacedly.

“You were there down the tunnel; that’s close enough,” Sunset murmured.

“Yes, sir,” Pyrrha said. “We were there.”

For a moment, she thought that he might berate them for failing to stop the grimm, for making it necessary that his house be bombed, but then he smiled and said, “Bless you, ladies and gents, bless you all. Thank you for what you did that day.”

“You don’t need to thank us,” Sunset muttered.

“If it wasn’t for you, I might not be here to complain about not having no house left, mightn't I?” he asked.

Sunset didn’t reply to that; she simply reached into her pocket and pulled out an array of lien notes of various denominations. Her hands trembled, and the cards slipped from her hands to land with tapping sounds on the pavement at his feet.

“Here, take them all,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry about your house.” She walked away, pushing past Yang to get ahead of the group, her footsteps thumping upon the stone beneath.

Pyrrha frowned. She took out a lien card of moderate value from one of the pouches at her belt and handed it to the man. “Here you are, sir; I’m sorry that things came to this. Sunset!”

As the others, all of them, one by one, gave the man some money — it seemed like the least they could do, somehow, for all that he bore them no malice — Pyrrha jogged after Sunset, catching up with her in short order.

“Sunset,” she repeated, reaching out to take Sunset by the arm. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Sunset asked. “He needed something—”

“That must have been most of the money you had on you,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“So? Perhaps he needs it more than I do,” Sunset replied.

“Is that all?” Pyrrha asked.

“What else would it be?”

“Guilt?” Pyrrha suggested. “A guilt which you don’t need to feel.”

Sunset glanced at her. “You don’t need to worry about me so much, Pyrrha.”

“Do I not?” Pyrrha responded. “Your behaviour would seem to argue against it.”

“I’m fine, I just…” Sunset trailed off. “I’m not unmindful of what you told me, but … moments like that, they bring it home, you know?”

Pyrrha sighed. “Yes,” she admitted. “I know. Poor fellow. I wonder how many others there are just like him.”

“The Council should do something for them,” Ruby said as she caught up with them. “They should … make sure they have somewhere to go to. It’s not their fault they lost their homes.”

“It’s rarely anyone’s fault,” Ren observed. “And equally rare for anyone to step in and help. The Councils are supposed to serve the needs of the people, but the wealthy and powerful rarely look down and notice the troubles of those beneath them.”

“That depends on where you are,” Sunset said softly. “There are places where that would not be tolerated.”

“But what are the Council supposed to do?” Jaune asked. “They can’t just make houses out of thin air.”

“They could try and do something about it instead of forming a Home Guard,” Yang suggested.

“I’m sure that they’re doing the best they can,” Jaune said. “I mean, after all, isn’t that what most people do in times like this: the best they can?”

“You’d hope so,” Pyrrha said.

Yang sighed. “Can we talk about something else?” she asked. “This is all getting kind of depressing. Have you guys heard from Blake in Atlas?”

“Not yet,” Sunset said. “I take it you haven’t either?”

“No,” Yang replied. “I’m giving her some time to get settled in before I start badgering her with calls.”

“That must be killing you,” Ruby remarked with a hint of mischief in her voice.

“Watch it,” Yang said, with mock sternness in her voice. “Or I will turn my energies right back on you, young lady.”

They arrived at A&P, the ice cream parlour, where the door was half glass and half wood painted blue, and where the back wall was covered in a mural of flying cows frolicking amidst the clouds, while the wall on the left-hand side as they came in was a Valish cityscape, painted as if at sunset.

As Pyrrha pushed open the door, she thought that something looked odd about that cityscape, something that looked unusual.

It took her a moment to realise that the omission that had thrown her was the complete absence of any sign of the Atlesian warships that had become ubiquitous in the Valish skyline thanks to their presence here over these months past. The realisation left her feeling strange, and a little disconcerted, that something so unusual could so easily come to feel normal, until it felt odd when it was taken away.

Perhaps, in time, it will come to feel so for all of these emergency measures that Vale is taking. Perhaps there will come a time when it feels odd for them not to have a Home Guard standing by in case the grimm return.

Before she could think on that any further, Pyrrha noticed that Jaune’s friend Miranda was standing behind the counter.

And she noticed that Miranda was crying.

Her head was bowed, her brown hair dishevelled and her body trembling, wracked with sobs.

Behind her as they came in, Jaune noticed this as well. “Miranda? Miranda, are you okay?”

Miranda looked up. Her blue eyes, which had always been watery, were now even more so; even as she wiped them with the back of her hand, more tears sprung up in their place. Her lip quivered as she said, “Jaune?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said, approaching the counter with his arms out. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”

“It … it’s nothing,” Miranda said, wiping at her eyes. “I, uh, I see you’ve got a big group with you, do you all know what you want or do you—?“

“Wait, just wait a second,” Jaune insisted, placing his hands down on the counter. “That can wait until after you—”

“No, it can’t,” Miranda replied. “I still have to work here for a little while, and if anyone from management comes down—”

“Is that really likely?” Sunset asked. “So likely that you can’t take a break? I mean, no offence, but it’s not like this place is packed out. Unless there are people in the basement we don’t know about.”

Miranda hesitated. “It has been kind of quiet. You’re the first customers we’ve had all day. Seems like no one wants to come out for ice cream at the moment. I don’t blame them.” She sagged, leaning against the counter for support. “I’m glad you came by, Jaune. I should have asked you for your number, but … I forgot.” She glanced at Pyrrha. “Or perhaps I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

Pyrrha walked forwards, to stand by Jaune, “If there is anything that we can do to help—”

“You’ve done enough,” Miranda interrupted. “You … thank you, for what you did. I heard that you were right there at the Breach when it happened. They say that you helped save the city.” She smiled. “You’re a big hero now, Jaune; what will they say back home?”

Jaune shook his head. “I’m not a hero. I just—”

“Fought as bravely as any of us,” Pyrrha said. “And has as much right to claim the name as any of us.”

“And more than some,” Sunset added.

Miranda smiled slightly, or tried to smile at least. “You should listen to your girlfriend and your team leader,” she said. She sniffed. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’re here, because it means that I can tell you that I’m leaving. I’m going back home to Alba Longa.”

Jaune blinked. “Going home? You don’t mean for break, do you?”

Miranda shook her head. “For … for a while. Maybe forever.”

“But what about your studies?”

“What about them?” Miranda replied. “This city was just attacked by the grimm! Knowing about poetry or being able to analyse the classics wouldn’t have protected me from them, just like … just like it didn’t save Pearl.”

“Who?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Pearl Wheatley,” Sunset said; her voice was hoarse and she looked like she was going to throw up. “One of the five people who died when the beowolf got into that shelter.”

Miranda nodded, and a sob escaped. “She was my friend,” she whimpered. “We were out shopping, we headed to the shelter, and then … when the grimm came, she … she distracted it so that I could … she told me to run and then … and then she … and then it…” Her body was wracked by a sudden sob.

Jaune reached out and put his arms around her, half pulling her across the counter into his embrace. Miranda kept on sobbing as she buried her head in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Sunset said, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she stared at Miranda with wide eyes.

Miranda ignored her. “I’m still here until my notice period expires,” she said. “And then I’m gone, back home. I can’t … I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.” She looked up at Jaune. “How can you stand it, Jaune? How can you face that again and again? How can you not be scared?”

“I am scared,” Jaune replied. “I’m … I’m scared; sometimes, I’m really scared.”

“We’re all afraid,” Pyrrha said, to Jaune and to Miranda both. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of.” She thought that perhaps Ruby was not afraid, but making that point would be of little help to Miranda.

Miranda sobbed. “Then … then why…?”

“Because … because I don’t think I could look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t,” Jaune replied.

Miranda frowned. “Do you think I’m a coward?”

“No,” Jaune said firmly. “No, of course not. You have to do what’s right for you, Miranda. If you want to go home, then that’s fine; who am I to tell you different? I hope you’re happy there.”

Miranda snorted. “'Happy'? I’m not so sure about that, but at least … at least I’ll feel safe there. I can’t … I just … every time I hear a dog bark, I feel like I’m going to … I can’t stay here any more.”

Fear stalks this city, Pyrrha thought, like the only grimm that neither we nor the Atlesians could slay.

Will its rampage ever come to an end?

And what will be the final cost when, or if, it does?

The Court of Mistral (New)

The Court of Mistral

Swift Foot Thrax sat on the bed, reading the Red Book of the Coliseum.

It was a list of all the arena champions past, stretching back as far as the records themselves stretched back — and beyond, since it included some almost certainly mythic entries at the front — and continuing to the present day.

Although, it had not escaped Swift Foot’s notice how the records got shorter the closer one got to the present day. Entries for some of the old champions spanned for pages and pages, as they had not only won arena titles but also slain grimm, led warbands, defeated outlaws, served the Emperor with arms and wits alike. The entry for Pyrrha Nikos, by contrast, could scarcely be called a paragraph; the Pride and Glory of Mistral Reborn, and she could scarcely muster a paragraph for her deeds. Admittedly, she was still very young, and perhaps the reason she had decided to go to Beacon was in hope of adding more deeds to burnish up her entry to something closer to the old length — and this was last year's edition, so when this year’s entry came out, there would be something about the Breach in Vale and the battle she had fought there and about her other accomplishments fighting latter day outlaws in the city — but even if that were so, it would be one example going against the grain of all the other examples.

She would be an exception that proved the rule that Mistral was in decline, fallen from the lofty glories of those earlier days.

But Pyrrha was still young, with — gods willing — much glory before her. She had won her first tournament when she was twelve years old. Swift Foot was sixteen years old now, and she hadn’t even won a tournament victory, let alone done anything else worthy of note or honour. If only her father had let her enter the Mistral tournament, then maybe… but her father had refused even to contemplate it. He feared that she would lose and embarrass him; he feared that his name would be shamed by the association with a failed daughter.

He had allowed Terri-Belle to compete — and she had won, washing away the stain of her loss in the finals of the Vytal Festival; after that one year of triumph, she had declined to compete again, preferring to retire undefeated; Swift Foot sometimes wondered how much of a hand their father had had in that — but not Swift Foot. She could not be trusted as Terri-Belle had been.

The bed upon which Swift Foot sat was comfortable enough, but not too comfortable — even with the throw cushions strewn atop it — to encourage softness; a rug of alternating pink and purple rectangles sat beneath the bed, and a pair of old stuffed dolls sat upon the floor by the bedside. Swift Foot’s rhomphaia, which she had named Ceres’ Kiss, hung upon the wall above her bed, together with a pair of crossed javelins. For the rest, her bedroom might have been said to very much resemble one of the rooms at one of the huntsman academies, save that she had it all to herself: there was a wooden desk, a chair, and a bookshelf above, but very little else in the way of decoration or adornment.

When she went to Haven in just over a year’s time, she would feel right at home.

She might even prefer it; at least at Haven, she wouldn’t have to put up with—

“You’re in trouble now, little sister.”

Swift Foot looked up from her book to see Shining Light and Blonn Di standing in the doorway; she didn’t have an actual door, only a set of curtains blocking the entrance to her room, and those curtains had been pushed back. Her two middle sisters were identical, with the same long blue-green hair worn in long curls cascading down below the shoulder, the same purple eyes — those features were, admittedly, shared with Swift Foot herself — the same sharp angles to their faces, the same statuesque tallness; they even dressed the same, in white one-shouldered gowns that almost, but not quite, revealed one breast to view. The only difference was the side on which they parted their hair and the side on which they wore the single shoulder of their dresses.

Everything else was the same, including the smirks they now wore upon their faces and the malicious glints in their eyes as they beheld their little sister.

“'In trouble'?” Swift Foot asked. “What did I do?”

Shining Light shrugged. “I’m not sure, but Father did say he wanted to see you, and that can’t be good.”

“We were supposed to fetch you a while ago, but we took our time getting here,” Blonn Di added. “So he’s probably upset with your tardiness by now. Hurry along.”

Swift Foot leapt off the bed. “I’m only late because you made me late!” she protested.

“And you think Father will believe you over us?” Shining Light asked, as the two of them made a little space in the doorway.

“Shining Light!” Swift Foot protested. “Why?”

“Why?” Shining Light repeated. “Because you ask ‘why’ in that whiny voice, you little brat. Now get going, or it will be the worse for you when you finally do come before Father.”

Swift Foot groaned as she ran for the door, passing between her two sisters and starting down the corridor towards the throne room. “You two are the worst!” she shouted behind her as she ran.

“‘You two are the worst’!” Blonn Di cried mockingly. “Cry more, little sister!”

“You want this to stop, stop making it so easy!” Shining Light added.

How about you two grow up a little bit? Swift Foot said. Shining Light and Blonn Di were not nearly so old as Terri-Belle, but they were both over twenty and graduated from Haven what was more, and yet, they acted just like they had when they were twelve and took her dolls away to make her cry.

It was no good telling them that, though; they liked to hear Swift Foot complain, but if she complained too much — or if her complaints struck home too much and pricked their pride — then, well, they had other ways of making Swift Foot unhappy.

It wasn’t as though she had a door to her room.

Yes, Haven Academy could not come soon enough, in Swift Foot’s opinion. She would miss Terri-Belle, but she could use her semblance to talk to her whenever she wanted to, and in the meantime, she would be out of this house, away from her other sisters, away from Father — a little away, at least. She had considered applying to Beacon, like Pyrrha Nikos, or Atlas like Phoebe Kommenos or Turnus Rutulus, but Father might not allow her to stray so far, and at Haven, she was almost guaranteed to be made team leader, just as all her sisters had been.

At Haven, she would have the best chance of showing what she could do.

But that was a year and more off now. For now, she had to get through this interview with Father.

All of Swift Foot’s sisters tended to slender tallness, but Swift Foot was slightly less than average height for her age. Like Shining Light and Blonn Di, she had inherited her mother’s hair and eyes — and she wore it like them, in long curls; she had considered changing to something more distinct but, well, she liked her hair, and she wasn’t going to change it to something that looked worse just because she shared a style with the worst people she knew — but while her elder sisters had inherited their father’s features, Swift Foot took after her late mother in being more soft of face. She sometimes wondered if that was why Father thought her weaker than the rest; or perhaps she really was weak, and he was wise enough to realise it.

Either way, Swift Foot ran as fast as her sandal-clad feet would carry her to the throne room, where her father sat in the Chair of Stewardship before the throne. The entrance to the throne room was guarded by a pair of enormous statues, two black onyx horses rearing up, their hooves thrashing in their air, their mouths opened as if they meant to devour some enemy or trespasser with their teeth. Swift Foot had never liked those statues; they had frightened her when she was a little girl, and she liked them little better now. She passed beneath them as swiftly as she could and tried to put them from her mind.

The Imperial Throne of Mistral sat upon a raised dais, reachable by a long purple carpet that crossed the centre of the room. Three steps led up to the throne of gold, which was surrounded by jagged spikes of grey stone as though the rock itself, a living thing, had erupted to hedge the seat of Emperors about with defences just as the swords and spears of Mistral had, in elder days, hedged round the Imperial dignity.

Her father, Lord Diomedes, did not sit upon the throne. He sat on a chair of black ebony wood at the base of the dais, and by his side stood Swift Foot’s eldest sister, Terri-Belle.

Lord Diomedes was a man turned old by the cares of state; his hair and bristling beard alike were as white as snow and as wild as a winter squall, the beard descending down to his chest and his hair past his shoulders; his eyes were a cold grey, like iron, and his face was as broad and hard as any brawler from the lower slopes — if his eyes were grey as iron, then his face was the anvil on which the iron would be beaten into shape. His shoulders were broad, and he wore a crimson toga over a segmented cuirass of bronzed metal, while a guard of just such a bronze colour protected his brow and nose.

Terri-Belle, who stood beside him, was tall, her arms and legs toned with muscle; she was dressed, as was her habit, as a warrior, clad in an armoured cuirass which guarded her chest, stomach, and some of her shoulders, but left her arms bare down to the heavy vambraces that she wore strapped to both her wrists. Studded pteruges guarded her thighs and covered up the short blue skirt she wore beneath. Her hands, and two of the four fingers upon each of them, were covered by black gloves which left her remaining fingers bare. A spindly silver armband encircled her left arm. Her horn was at her hip, and her spear, Thunderbolt, was in her hand, the butt resting upon the floor.

Swift Foot approached and dropped to one knee before her father’s seat, bowing her head.

“You’re late,” her father said, his voice curling with disapproval.

“I’m sorry, Father—”

“In this room, you call me lord,” Lord Diomedes reminded her.

Swift Foot swallowed. “Of course, my lord. I’m sorry, I was—”

“I am not interested in your excuses,” Lord Diomedes declared. “We will discuss an appropriate punishment later, but now, to business, since we have so little time remaining.”

Terri-Belle took a step forward. “Father has decided that you will attend court today, at my side.”

Swift Foot looked up, a gasp escaping. She would attend court? With the lords and councillors? “Why?”

“Do you not wish to be of service to Mistral and to me?” Lord Diomedes demanded.

“I do,” Swift Foot said quickly. “Of course I do; I merely—”

“Then it is time,” Terri-Belle said. She approached, looming over Swift Foot until she knelt down beside her and placed one hand firmly, but not uncomfortably, upon her youngest sister’s shoulder. “Watch, listen, and say nothing.” She smiled. “For the most part, that is what Father himself will do. What a wise lord does: listen, take counsel, sort the wisdom from the folly, and only at the end decide what advice is good to follow.”

Swift Foot nodded. “And what will you do?”

“I will speak,” Terri-Belle said. “As it is required for someone to speak. Now up; they will be arriving soon.”

Swift Foot climbed to her feet. “What of Shining Light and Blonn Di?”

“Your sisters will be meeting with the Merchants’ Guild and the Most Ancient and Honourable Company of Caravaneers,” Lord Diomedes said, sounding as though the notion bored him. “To assure them that the convoys to and from Mistral will not be threatened.”

“And why is that important?” Terri-Belle asked.

Swift Foot rolled her eyes. “Because thanks to the Company’s influence, overland convoys are still the most common form of intra-continental transport,” she recited.

Terri-Belle’s lips twitched. “Correct.”

“You coddle her too much,” Lord Diomedes said. “To know so little deserves no praise.” He affixed her with his gaze. “And how does the Company sustain its power?”

This one required a little thought. “Organised crime?” she said, half-guessing. It was something like that; at least one of the grand old guilds was hip-deep with the gangs that infested the lower slopes; it was the pinnacle of said gangs’ influence, though not of the guilds themselves. Their voices were heard in the councils of the high and in the gutters of the low — and they owned everything in between. In some ways, they were more powerful than some lords. Or at least more influential.

Lord Diomedes nodded. “You are not completely without wisdom then, I see.”

Whatever else might have passed between them was interrupted by the arrival of a robed servant, dressed in the livery of the palace, who bowed from the waist before announcing, “Lady Nikos, my lord.”

Lady Nikos entered the throne room, tall and proud, walking with the aid of an ebony cane. She passed beneath the equine statues as though they meant nothing to her. Terri-Belle and Swift Foot stood aside for her as she approached, so that none might stand between her and the steward.

When she had reached about the point at which Swift Foot had bowed, she too bowed, placing both hands upon her cane as she bowed from the waist. “My Lord Steward,” she said. “I hope you will forgive a failure to genuflect; I fear I would be unable to rise again.”

Lord Diomedes chuckled. “Fear not, my lady; our dignity is not more precious than your comfort. Welcome, I am glad that you have decided to grace us with your presence. I have missed your wisdom in the council chamber these years passed.”

“You do me kindness, or else you flatter me,” Lady Nikos declared. “For myself, I think I have given Mistral a greater gift than any counsel I gave to you, my lord.”

“Though she is far away, and farther than some of us would wish, your daughter’s actions burnish Mistral’s glory, my lady,” Terri-Belle said. “Be welcome.”

“Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos replied. “And Lady Swift Foot, a welcome surprise to see you here.”

Swift Foot bowed her head. “My lady.”

“Lord Rutulus, my lord,” the same servant who had announced Lady Nikos’ arrival now declared. “And … ahem, Miss Camilla Volsci.”

Swift Foot glanced up at Terri-Belle, but her eldest sister’s face was expressionless, and if she was surprised to hear that Camilla Volsci was here, let alone displeased, she gave no sign of it.

Swift Foot knew who it was, of course; everyone in Mistralian high society knew Camilla Volsci, the faunus girl whom old Lord Rutulus had rescued from traffickers and taken into his own house, to be raised alongside his own children. In Lord Rutulus’ absences, she did all the work in representing him and his interests that ought, by rights, have been performed by Lord Rutulus' own sister. But why was she here? Was she allowed to be here, neither noble nor councillor?

The answer came to Swift Foot a moment later: she was allowed to be here so long as no one actively objected to her presence. But would anyone object? Would her father, or her sister?

“There is more wisdom in her than in her lord,” Terri-Belle murmured, so softly that her voice carried only so far as Swift Foot. “If she is here with him, I welcome it.”

Lady Nikos made way, as Terri-Belle and Swift Foot had made way before her, as Lord Rutulus and Camilla made their way down the centre of the throne room. Turnus Rutulus was a man tall and broad shouldered, his long dark hair streaked with blood red at the tips that curled about his chin; he was unarmed but wore a black cuirass and pteruges over his blood red tunic, as though he feared to be attacked within the palace walls. A tiger stripe sash was bound around his waist, and like all noble Mistralians — save, at present, for Swift Foot, who had not received hers yet — he wore an honour band around his left arm; his was gleaming gold and patterned in such a way that it, too, suggested the stripes of a tiger.

Camilla wore a black dress with a high neckline that embraced her throat but left her pale, fair shoulders bare, descending to a slightly ruffled skirt that stopped just below her thighs. On her right arm, she wore a vambraces that protected her wrist and the back of her hand, while on her left, the vambraces extended all the way up to meet the couter that warded her elbow. Purple sleeves covered her upper arms below the shoulders, while a single rerebrace sat upon her right arm. Her boots were black, and high, and looked stiff enough to offer some protection, leaving only a little of her legs exposed. A dark cuirass protected her belly and one breast, but was half-concealed beneath the bindings of purple cloth, shading softly into white, that descended from her waist down to between her legs; like her master, she wore a tiger stripe sash, but hers was the stripes of a white tiger of the snowy peaks, while her honour band was set with pearls.

Like Lady Nikos before him, Turnus bowed; unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of a bad leg to excuse why he didn’t drop to one knee, as Camilla did.

“My lord,” Turnus said. “I thank you for your invitation. It is good that the old ways are being revived.”

“Not all the old ways, my lord, or else your companion would wear chains,” Terri-Belle said.

Turnus looked at her. He hesitated. “Yes, well … progress is a good thing, in many respects. Something I fear that we forget too often. And yet we must not forget that there is a place for some traditions also.”

“How very wise of you, my lord,” Terri-Belle said. Her voice dropped as she muttered, “Pompous ass.”

Turnus did not hear her. Rather, he turned to Lady Nikos. “How now, my lady?” He reached out to take her hand and raised it to his lips. “How is your daughter?”

“Pyrrha was well, when last we spoke,” Lady Nikos declared. “Although a trifle melancholy as a result of this dreadful business in Vale.”

“The sorrows of others touch a kind heart deeply,” Camilla murmured. “Her melancholy speaks well of her.”

“And yet I — and many others — would that she were home, and away from such sorrows, as would many in the kingdom,” Turnus declared. “If she were to come home, then the whole city would rejoice to see her.”

“And yet, my lord, she will not come,” Lady Nikos said. “Lady Terri-Belle has tried and been rebuffed in my very presence.”

“It is not only melancholy that grips her, but a degree of stubbornness also,” Terri-Belle said. Her voice became a trifle mischievous as she added, “Or that which youth calls love.”

Turnus’ face darkened. “Lady Nikos,” he said. “This Valish boy with which Pyrrha demeans herself—”

“'Demeans herself'?” Lady Nikos said. “My opinion of Mister Arc aside, you will not speak of my daughter ‘demeaning herself’ in my hearing, Lord Rutulus.”

“Of course not, forgive me,” Turnus said at once. “I am…” He trailed off, and said nothing further as to what he was.

One by one, Lord Diomedes’ guests arrived: Professor Lionheart, looking nervously around him as though someone might jump out to scare him in a childish prank; Lady Ming, dressed in a kimono of white; Councillors Ward and Kiyat; Lady Vasilias in a stola of sea blue; the heads of Mistral’s grand old houses, those that yet lived, joined by those most prosperous new families who had acquired sufficient wealth to be called noble in all but name. They filled up the throne room with their bodies and with their chatter, talking amongst themselves while Lord Diomedes, silent, watched them all from where he sat hunched on his chair.

Terri-Belle slammed the butt of Thunderbolt down onto the ground. The sound of its crash echoed in the throne room, and silenced the voices of all within.

“My lords, ladies, Councillors, noble citizens of Mistral,” Terri-Belle said, walking forward into the empty space in the centre of the room, putting herself in the midst of all the court here assembled. “On behalf of my father, and in my own right as Warden of the White Tower, I thank you for your presence here. As you well know, I hope, if you are not completely incurious, you will know that the Kingdom of Vale recently suffered a grimm attack the likes of which has scarce been seen. We are gathered here to discuss how we may reassure the people that Mistral is as strong and safe as ever and to discuss how we shall respond to this unexpected turn of events.”

“Could Mistral withstand such an assault as we have witnessed on Vale?” asked Georgia Yeoh, stepping forward slightly out of the crowd. She was a woman in her late middle years, but with her black hair largely untouched by greys and her skin largely untouched by wrinkles; the Yeoh family was not one of Mistral’s most prominent, but they enjoyed the patronage of the House of Ming, and Swift Foot guessed that Ms. Yeoh was acting as Lady Ming’s vanguard. “Perhaps the people are right to be nervous.”

Terri-Belle’s momentary silence gave away that she did not think Ms. Yeoh to be completely wrong. “Let us not become consumed by despair,” she said. “We are not so foolish as the Valish as to have a tunnel running from grimm-controlled territory to underneath the city; there is no easy way for the grimm to circumvent our walls. And, I am sure that, if the city were to come under attack, then every warrior in the city would take up arms in its defence.”

“And how many warriors are left in the city?” Lady Ming asked. “Lady Terri-Belle, is it not so that many huntsmen are late returning from their missions, in some cases weeks overdue?”

The court broke out in murmurings and whispers. Swift Foot saw Terri-Belle clench one hand into a fist.

“Peace, good people, I pray you,” Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment. “It is so,” she admitted, which only led to the murmuring, so recently stilled, breaking out once more. “Peace, I say again,” she cried. “I mean to set out tomorrow and search for our missing huntsmen, and I for one yet have hope that some of them may be found alive.”

“Then where are they?” Lady Ming demanded. “If they have not returned — after so long, in some cases — then must we not assume that they are dead? Lionheart, how many huntsmen remain in the city and accounted for?”

“Uh … sixty, or perhaps seventy,” Professor Lionheart said.

“You don’t sound very certain,” Camilla pointed out. “And does that include the Imperial Guard?”

“One would hope not, or we are in trouble,” Lady Ming said.

“N-no,” Professor Lionheart stammered. “No, it does not.”

“The Imperial Guard has not escaped unharmed from this … whatever is causing the disappearance of our huntsmen,” Terri-Belle admitted. “But I can yet muster forty-seven spears or swords at my command.”

“So that is one hundred and seventeen huntsmen at most,” Lady Ming said. “Very few with which to hold a city, even leaving aside the rest of our vast domains.”

“There are some huntsmen still scattered across the countryside, continuing to defend the outlying settlements against bandits or grimm,” Professor Lionheart ventured.

“Until they are picked off as well like all the rest,” Lady Ming said.

“If the city were to come under attack, I have no doubt that we would be able to call on the services of Lord Rutulus and his fighters,” Terri-Belle said. “I hope, my lord, that you would not abandon the city in its hour of need.”

“The House of Rutulus has always answered Mistral when she calls,” Turnus declared. “It has been true in my own lifetime, in fact, and would be true again, if need be. Assuming, of course, that I and my men were in the city.”

“So we must count on Lord Rutulus being unemployed,” Lady Ming said tartly.

“There are also the tournament fighters who could be mobilised if need be,” Terri-Belle said.

“Not enough,” Lady Ming insisted.

“I hear a great many criticisms,” Lord Diomedes rumbled from his chair, “but I hear far less in the way of solutions; come! This is not a forum for carping, but to hear how we may ready ourselves. Lady Ming, Ms. Yeoh, do you have anything to suggest, or do you only have holes to pick in our arrangements?”

Turnus folded his arms. “Androids would make up the deficiency in manpower,” he suggested. “For an order large enough to protect the whole city, I am certain the SDC would give us a fair price. I could even reach out to my contacts and attempt to negotiate a discount.”

“How very generous of you, Lord Rutulus,” Councillor Kiyat said. “But you are not a Councillor yet, and we have no need of your help negotiating with the SDC.”

“It is my understanding,” Ms. Yeoh said, “that the SDC androids are of poor quality, practically disposable, unable to withstand attack.”

“All valid, but they would be sufficient to man the walls against attack,” Turnus said. “And free our limited numbers of capable fighters fit to act as a flying column wherever the attack should be pressed home.”

“We cannot rely upon Atlesian toys,” Ms. Yeoh declared. “If we must model ourselves upon Atlas, then let it be by the raising of an army.”

There was momentary silence in the court.

“An … an army?” Councillor Ward repeated. “An army from where?”

“From amongst the people, Cicero, where else?” Lady Ming demanded.

“Mercenaries?” Councillor Ward suggested.

“Where are we to find them in sufficient numbers?” Lady Ming asked. “And besides, a state that depends upon mercenaries and auxiliaries—”

“Yes, yes, my lady, we are aware,” Councillor Ward said quickly. “But this is not a game; citizen armies cannot be conjured out of thin air; they take time to raise and what then? Does anyone believe that commoners pressed into service and given weapons will be able to stand against the grimm? Or even against a reasonably-sized bandit tribe? We will lead the people to their deaths.”

“Not to mention that raising an army after so long without one is hardly likely to calm the public anxieties,” Councillor Kiyat muttered.

“So we do nothing?” Lady Ming asked. “We sit and wait and tell the people that all is well, and all the while, the tide comes in around our sandcastle?”

“That’s ridiculously melodramatic, my lady,” Councillor Ward said. “Mistral is not under attack.”

“Nor was Vale, until it was,” Lady Ming said.

“Have you given any thought as to how this would be done, my lady?” Terri-Belle asked.

“I have,” Ms. Yeoh answered. “I have prepared a full dossier with all of my recommendations, if the Warden of the White Tower would care to read it. As the Councillor has pointed out, armies cannot be conjured out of thin air, but by starting with a single regiment or two, we could ensure a solid cadre of troops who are well-disciplined and -equipped, if not experienced, to form the nucleus around which a larger force could be created. I believe the people are wise enough to understand the reasons for our action without panicking unduly. Those of you so concerned that the act of beginning to protect ourselves will bring the grimm to the door should have more faith in the people of Mistral.”

“Do you think the people of Mistral will flock to the colours?” Terri-Belle asked.

“Are the lower slopes still not wretched?” Ms. Yeoh asked. “Not everyone who grows up there can be Arslan Altan; there are many, I believe, who would welcome an easier escape from poverty and deprivation.”

“And how would you equip this force?” Terri-Belle asked.

“I believe MARS should be able to oblige us, for the right price,” said Ms. Yeoh.

“The SDC would give you better value for money,” Turnus declared.

“But not better quality, I think, my lord,” Lady Ming replied.

Turnus frowned. “I yield to no one here in my admiration for the Atlesian military and its capabilities, but traditionally, the prerogative to raise standing troops in arms — as opposed to raising a levy for a campaign or war — is held not by the kingdom itself but by … not to put too fine a point on it, but by those of us in this room?”

“Would you have us raise an army so, Lord Rutulus?” Lady Nikos asked. “Would you raise a regiment, and then I do the same, and Lady Ming another until the city is awash with armed bands?”

“He’s raised a regiment already,” Councillor Ward muttered.

Turnus did not look fazed by the response. “Why not?” he asked. “It was how it was always done, how Mistral fought its wars and won the largest territory of any kingdom in Remnant.”

“And lost the greatest war,” Lady Nikos replied. “And the war against the faunus that followed; I do not regret that we lost that war, for our cause was not just, but nevertheless, the methods with which we fought the war left something to be desired.”

“Forces on the Atlesian model, of course,” Turnus said. “But who better to lead them than we who are bred and born to command?”

But where will you lead them? Swift Foot wondered. And against who?

“You speak of armies, but what of fleets?” Camilla asked. “Is Mistral to have its own warships, also, in your plan?”

“Of course,” Ms. Yeoh said. “We are fortunate to have two ships in mothballs, the Dingyuan and the Zhenyuan, laid down twenty years ago. They were never deployed due to reallocation of resources, but all work was completed on them first; I believe them to be serviceable.”

“So do others,” Lord Diomedes said. “I have received an offer from the new First Councillor of Vale, Aspen Emerald, offering to buy both vessels from us to augment the strength of their own fleet.”

“So we will strengthen the Valish and deprive ourselves?” Lady Nikos asked.

“Is that not what you have done, my lady?” Lady Ming asked. “Strengthened the Valish and deprived us?”

“By all means, sell the Valish our obsolete junk,” Councillor Kiyat said. “If we agree that ships are necessary, then squeeze every lien out of Vale and use the money to buy new, modern vessels for ourselves.”

“We seem to have come to an agreement that this is necessary,” Councillor Ward observed. Swift Foot was inclined to agree.

“Less than a hundred and twenty warriors to defend Mistral, at the most,” Lady Ming reminded him. “Does that state of affairs seem as though it can continue to you? As though it should? And that is only assuming that no other huntsmen leave Mistral on assignments from which they do not return.”

“I will find out what is causing our huntsmen to disappear,” Terri-Belle vowed. “But … I concede there is some force in what you say, my lady.”

“Save that the city has survived since the faunus war without an army,” Lady Nikos pointed out.

“Indeed, we are discussing vast expenditure for an uncertain purpose,” Councillor Ward reminded them.

Professor Lionheart said, “I believe that our graduates from Haven Academy—”

“That your graduates from Haven Academy are not pisspoor is a reflection of their natural quality, not the standards of your instruction, Lionheart,” Lady Ming snapped.

“Should we not discuss the question of bringing our students home whilst we are on the subject?” Councillor Ward asked. “I have a son currently at Beacon, as does Lady Vasilias; Lady Nikos has a daughter. And beyond this court, there are the fathers and mothers of every Haven student Mistral born, and of those young Mistralians who decided to seek … other educational opportunities at other academies who are now asking themselves ‘is it safe? Should my child remain at Beacon in these present circumstances?’ Thank the gods of sea and sky that Pyrrha Nikos was not killed defending what the Valish call the Breach, but if that chokepoint had not been held…”

“It scarcely bears thinking about,” Camilla said.

“Indeed,” Councillor Ward agreed. “It was bad enough with the White Fang on the rampage, but now this? How can we trust Vale to keep our children safe? How can our people trust Vale to keep our children safe.”

“General Ironwood has been appointed head of security for the Vytal Festival,” Turnus pointed out. “If we are to model our own military upon the Atlesians, perhaps we should put some trust in the Atlesian military?”

“We have spoken of avoiding an outbreak of public panic,” Lady Ming said. “And yet, we propose to withdraw the Haven students, attempt to pull out Mistralian students from Beacon and Atlas, ship them all home in great haste, what does that say except that we are scared?”

“Pyrrha will not come home,” Lady Nikos declared, “and while I understand Councillor Ward’s concerns, it seems to me, as it seems to my daughter who is there in Vale, that the worst of the danger has past: the threat of the White Fang and the grimm neutralised, as Lady Terri-Belle and I have discussed already.”

“It is highly unlikely there are sufficient grimm in Vale for another such attack, and their route into Vale is cut off,” Terri-Belle said. “Having failed to bring the students home before now, I suggest we might look rather ridiculous if we did so now that the danger is reduced.”

“Not to mention cowardly,” Lady Nikos added.

“'Cowardly'?” Councillor Ward gasped.

“Yes, Cicero, cowardly,” Lady Nikos repeated. “To flee in the face of danger, is that the act of a Mistralian warrior? Is that what we wish to teach our children, a lesson more detrimental to the next generation of our pride and strength than anything that Leo might teach them — or fail to teach them? What will be said of us in Vale and Atlas if we quit the city and the tournament because we remembered there were grimm in the vicinity? We will be the laughingstock of all Remnant.” She paused for a moment. “The reputation of Haven Academy has suffered in recent years. Huntsmen trained at Beacon are more highly regarded for their skill, and those of Atlas for their discipline; but I believe, I hope, that our Mistralian huntsmen yet have a reputation for valour unmatched by any others in the four kingdoms. Will we throw that reputation away now, when the worst of the threat has passed?”

“That is all a very pretty way of saying you wish to see a crown of laurel placed upon your daughter’s head, my lady,” Councillor Kiyat said, his voice rich with amusement.

Lady Nikos, for her part, did not look offended. “I take comfort from knowing that my personal desires are in alignment with the good of Mistral in this.”

Lord Diomedes raised his hand, and the whole court went quiet, waiting to hear what he had decided.

For her part, Swift Foot tried to work out what he would decide, based upon all that he had heard.

It seemed almost that there would be the raising of some sort of army; even Terri-Belle had admitted that they had need of greater strength in their defence. But, equally, Swift Foot was certain that he would not simply grant the lords and ladies the right to raise troops as they wished; he would not grant that much power to those who might use that power against him. No, it would be Lady Ming’s proposal, or nothing: an army, yes, but at his own command — or under Terri-Belle’s command, at least — that would not threaten him.

But would he sell the Valish the ships? Ships today, or ships tomorrow? That depended, to Swift Foot’s mind, on how urgent you thought the need was. If you thought it desperately necessary to put something in the air for the defence of Mistral, then two old hulks were better than nothing, provided the weapons worked; but if you thought that it could wait, then you may as well sell the Valish your old tat while they were desperate and buy yourself something new and shiny with the proceeds. It was certain that the Valish were desperate, but what about Mistral?

Desperate enough to raise an army for the first time in decades. While Mistral was not under threat, it was clear that the Breach had rattled them; Swift Foot was surprised by the lack of people trying to mount a defence of the old ways. But then, the old ways had been dying in Mistral for some time. The city clung to its past, but no matter how desperately it clung to it, that past slipped through its fingers all the same. There was a reason why Pyrrha Nikos was known as the Evenstar: she harkened back to a time almost vanished, the last gleaming of a light that would soon be extinguished by the blazing sun of an uncertain future.

In the old days, the Emperor had allowed the Lords Rutulus and Thrax and Ming and all the rest to raise their retinues in arms, confident that that they would never turn that strength against the throne: the honour of those noble houses had been too great, and had any family so shamed themselves as to take up arms against the throne, then every other noble line would have leapt to swords and spears in defence of the House of Victory.

The line of Thrax was not so sacrosanct, nor was the rank of Steward. Swift Foot knew that it rankled with Terri-Belle that their father was not called an Emperor, or King at the very least, but in Mistral, it was not simply a question of how long it took to make a steward a sovereign, nor was it simply a question of the rightful royal line continuing to hang around like a bad smell — or even such a wonderful smell that it reminded people of why their Thracian scent paled in comparison … there was only one royal line in Mistral, and that line stretched back even to the very founding of the kingdom, encompassing wars, triumphs, disasters, periods when Mistral had been conqueror and conquered; romance, pride, heroism, glory beyond imagining, the line of Nikos had presided over all of it. What was the stewardship compared to that? What was a family that had only ever held second place until less than a hundred years ago, and that had secured its power through double-dealing and shady arrangements with faunus warlords?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Perhaps the Breach had not really rattled the court nearly so much as it seemed; perhaps it was really just an excuse to put the old ways out of their misery once and for all.

Lord Diomedes said, “We will not withdraw our students from the Vytal Festival. We will not flee after the battle is already won, and we will not cast aside Mistral’s best chance of victory in ten years.” He favoured Lady Nikos with a smile. “That said, we take heed of the concerns expressed with regards to the state of our defences, and for that reason, my lord Rutulus, we will be most gratified if you will reach out to your friends in the north and begin negotiating for the purchase of a large number of these combat androids. The Council will, of course, review the terms before any payment is made.”

“My Lord Steward,” Councillor Ward began. “Lord Rutulus—”

“Will serve us well in this while you, Councillor, make contact with the Valish Council and begin negotiating for the sale of the Dingyuan and the Zhenyuan. And, while we feel the age of private armies has passed, we are minded to consider the proposals of Ms. Yeoh for a gradual increase in our martial strength. Ms. Yeoh, if you will submit this dossier you speak of to my daughter, the Warden of the White Tower and commander of any army we should raise, then she will evaluate it and give me — and the Council — her final recommendations. My lords and ladies, Councillors and noble citizens, does any voice dissent from this course?”

No one spoke. It was much as Swift Foot had expected, and for that part which she had not guessed — they were selling the ships.

Almost as if this was really about power after all.

But then, with her family, was it ever really about anything else?

The Atlas That Can Be (New)

The Atlas That Can Be

Cadance’s office looked as though it was made of glass. The floor was so shiny that Rainbow could see herself reflected on its surface as she walked in, and it was the same with the walls too, like the whole office was one giant mirror surrounding her and the councillor. Cadance’s desk was made of metal and polished to a sheen as reflective as the walls themselves. The back wall was taken up with a giant window, out of which she could see the skyscrapers of Atlas stretching out towards the edge of the world, and the airships — military and civilian — flying over and around them like whales mingling with sharks.

An Atlesian flag sat in the corner of the office, there was a law school degree on the wall, and on the desk sat various little touches that mitigated against the impression of a glass box: photos in digital frames, a couple of trophies, an old chipped coffee mug and a model of an Atlesian cruiser.

Cadance got up from her chair as Rainbow Dash walked in, and the door slid shut behind her. “Rainbow Dash!” she said, as the smile on her face reached all the way up to her eyes. “Welcome home.”

Rainbow smiled. “It’s good to be back, ma’am,” she said, “but you don’t need to get up for me.”

“But I did anyway,” Cadance said. “Please, sit down?”

“That’s fine, ma’am,” Rainbow said, clasping her hands behind her back as she stood in front of Cadance’s desk.

“Suit yourself,” Cadance murmured. She did sit down, the smile still on her face. “So, how does it feel to be back home?”

Rainbow thought about it for a moment. “Beacon was nice, and the people we met were cool, and there were long stretches when nothing happened, but … then something would happen, and you remembered that this was a town with the White Fang running amuck. It’s good to be somewhere that can’t happen. It’s good to know that Twilight, and the others, are somewhere that can’t happen.” She grinned. “Plus, I’ve missed the cakes at Sugarcube Corner.”

Cadance chuckled. “How are you doing, Rainbow?”

“I’m fine,” Rainbow said.

“Really?” Cadance asked. “Twilight says that you’ve been subdued lately.”

Rainbow hesitated. “You’ve spoken to Twi?”

“I am her sister-in-law,” Cadance reminded her, not that Rainbow needed reminding. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “It will be fine, anyway.”

Cadance raised one eyebrow. “You don’t have to say that if it isn’t true.”

“You’re on the Atlas Council, ma’am; you don’t need issues that I can take care of myself,” Rainbow said. “But … there is one thing — okay, there are two things, but you know about one of them already, so one other thing — that you could help me with, or that I could use your advice on.”

Cadance rested her hands upon the desk. “Name it.”

“Has Twilight spoken to you about Penny?” Rainbow asked. “She had doubts almost from the start; I didn’t take them seriously at the time, but since then, I … I’ve started to think she might have been right all along.”

“In what way?”

“So Twilight has spoken to you about this?” Rainbow asked.

“About Penny?” Cadance clarified. “No, I’m afraid she hasn’t. Enlighten me. Is something amiss with the project?”

“That’s the problem,” Rainbow said. “Penny is a person, not a project, and I … when we first moved in to Beacon, Twilight asked me if we had built a slave. I told her 'no.' I didn’t exactly blow her off, but I … well, I gave her an answer that seems … looking back, it seems like kind of an easy answer.”

“Which was?”

“That we wouldn’t be forcing Penny to do anything because she’d obviously want to fight for Atlas,” Rainbow said. She smiled sheepishly. “I think that, back then, I couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t.”

“Has that changed?” Cadance asked.

“Atlas can still rely on my loyalty,” Rainbow assured her.

Ninety-five percent of it, anyway. Ninety-eight percent. Some pretty high percentage. If that train had been about to smash into Atlas, I would have stopped Sunset. If Rarity and Pinkie and Fluttershy had been in Vale — being onboard the Valiant doesn’t count — I would have stopped the train. Ninety-something percent. Yeah.

“But I understand why not everyone would feel the same way. I … I don’t want you to think that I’m making excuses for Chrysalis, but I understand a little more why some people hate us, even if we — as in all of us, as in you, as in Twilight, as in the girls and the General and people who haven’t done nothing — don’t deserve it. The point is that what I told Twilight back then, that it didn’t matter if Penny didn’t have a choice in the matter because she’d choose what everyone wanted her to do anyway … I’m not sure I believe that any more.”

Cadance was silent for a moment. “And what do you think that she would do instead?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “I haven’t asked her. Nobody has.”

“Then it’s a little early to be worrying about it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t it time to think about it now, rather than when she decides what she wants and finds out that …” Rainbow trailed off.

“Put like that, you’re making me regret that the Council didn’t probe harder into the ethical ramifications of this before signing off on Penny’s creation,” Cadance murmured. “We were promised the future of warfare.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure — almost certain pretty sure — that Penny wants to be a huntress,” Rainbow said. “I’m just not so sure that it’s under the banner of Atlas.”

“Atlas paid for Penny’s creation,” Cadance reminded her.

“Atlas pays for the defence of most of Remnant; how much of that is really to our benefit?” Rainbow asked.

“Do you want to get into the cost-benefit analysis of all our military operations and the general benefits of maintaining life and stability across Remnant?” Cadance asked.

“I probably should,” Rainbow admitted. “But right now, I’d prefer to remind you of what you said when you were sworn in as a member of the Council: Let every nation and all peoples know, whether they wish us well or ill, that we shall support any friend, oppose any foe, meet any hardship, surmount any obstacle, bear any burden, pay any price to ensure the survival and the success of liberty.”

Cadance leaned back in her chair. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I said that. And I meant it. Old Mantle sought to decouple life from liberty, thinking to preserve life by circumscribing it, by putting limits upon it, by chaining hearts and minds and souls in the name of safety and security. Now we know better. Now we know that life without liberty is … not worth living.”

“Then what about Penny’s liberty?” Rainbow asked. “How can we go out there to every corner of Remnant and fight for the freedom of all peoples when we’re forcing someone to fight for Atlas against her will? Councillor, I … I believe in what you said, I’ve quoted your words in defence of Atlas and what we do, I … I’d hate to see Atlas betray itself, and I’d hate to see it betray Penny.”

Cadance looked Rainbow in the eye. “What is it you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Rainbow said. “I just want to know what … if this isn’t what Penny wants, then what does that mean? What will happen to her?”

“Doctor Polendina will have an opinion on that, I’m sure, and so will General Ironwood,” Cadance said. “Have you spoken to General Ironwood about this?”

“No,” Rainbow admitted.

“Why not?”

“The General has a lot going on,” Rainbow said. “I didn’t want to bother him with it.”

Cadance looked at Rainbow Dash in silence.

Rainbow shuffled uncomfortably on the shiny, reflective floor. “I … I was worried … I didn’t want to hear him say that he didn’t … I didn’t want him to betray himself.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Of course I trust him!” Rainbow cried.

“‘Of course’?” Cadance asked.

Rainbow sighed. “Ciel thinks I’m a fool. She thinks it’s never going to happen and I should forget about it — and probably encourage Penny to forget about it too, assuming that she’s even thinking about it. She thinks that … that Atlas won’t let Penny go. But every student has the right to quit the Academy at any time prior to graduation, every officer has the right to resign their commission—”

“But enlisted men don’t have that option, they have to serve until their term expires,” Cadance pointed out.

“Okay, but Penny isn’t enlisted, and she didn’t sign up for twelve years or six or even at all,” Rainbow said. “So what I want to know is, 'will she have the same rights as any other student or officer?'”

“I … don’t know,” Cadance admitted. “As I say, General Ironwood will have a view on that, as will Doctor Polendina, and it may in the end come to the Council to decide. And I can’t say for sure what that decision will be.”

“I see,” Rainbow muttered.

It was not the answer that she had been hoping for; perhaps it had been the answer she should have expected nonetheless, the answer that Ciel had been telling her to expect. After all, Ciel made very logical, very valid points; Rainbow had just been hoping that logic would yield in the face of the ideals of Atlas.

“But, if that is the path that Penny wishes to take, if she wishes to take off her uniform, then I give you my guarantee that the Council will hear her case, no matter who tries to stop it,” Cadance vowed. “I won’t let her be silenced. And, although a good arbitrator should try to reserve judgement until they’ve heard the arguments, on the basis of what you’ve said, I can also say that I am minded to take her side. Because you’re right: this is a matter of liberty and civil rights. Rights to which Penny is no less entitled than anyone else in this kingdom.”

“Really?” The grin spread across Rainbow’s face from ear to ear. “Thanks! I mean, thank you, ma’am, I … I appreciate that. If it comes to it, then I’m sure Penny will too, but right now … I’m glad you’ve got my back.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” Cadance said. “How can I not support that? How can I not support you when you’re trying to keep Atlas honest and true to itself? As a Councillor, that should be one of my highest priorities, alongside the defence of the Kingdom itself and its citizens.”

Rainbow nodded. “I knew that I could count on you. I hoped I could.”

“I’m sure that if you speak to General Ironwood, you’ll find that you can count on him too,” Cadance suggested.

“I … I’ll think about it,” Rainbow said. She paused for a moment. “I … I actually came in here to talk about something else, if you don’t mind? When I asked to see you, it … that thing that we—”

“The scar?” Cadance said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “The brand anyway. I know that you’ve probably been really busy, but I wanted to see if you’d found anything.”

Cadance was still for a moment, and silent. “I have been looking into it,” she assured Rainbow. “Discreetly, of course. Not that you’d expect for something like this to be written down and archived, but I can find no evidence of this kind of mistreatment of faunus — employees or otherwise — by the SDC.”

“I know what I saw,” Rainbow insisted.

“And I believe you,” Cadance said. “Because I have found evidence of a cover-up.”

“But you just said—”

“Nothing,” Cadance said. “And that’s suspicious, don’t you think? I’ve looked back twenty years and can’t find any evidence of an Adam Taurus ever having been employed by the SDC. Based on what information is known about the man, it doesn’t seem he could have been employed before that, would you agree?”

“He didn’t seem that old,” Rainbow said, “Mid-twenties at most, so … yeah, that checks out. He … he spoke to Fluttershy, when she was held prisoner beneath Mountain Glenn. He told her that he started working down the mines when he was a boy.”

“If he was twenty-five, then that would make him ten fifteen years ago,” Cadance said. “Which, as you say, checks out. Of course, if workers were being abused by the SDC, then it would make sense that there would be no records of those employees. I thought perhaps to interview supervisors and managers from that period to see if any of them remembered Taurus or anything similar happening to other workers, but everyone I’ve been able to trace…”

Rainbow frowned. “What is it?”

“Everyone that I’ve been able to trace has died, either in one form of accident or another or by suicide,” Cadance said. “I haven’t been able to find anyone from that time alive.”

“It sounds like someone’s cleaning house,” Rainbow said. “When was the last death?”

Cadance was silent for a moment. “Two weeks ago.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “'Two weeks'? That’s—”

“After you asked me to look into this,” Cadance said.

“So they’re not just cleaning house; they’re doing it now?” Rainbow gasped. “I … Cadance, I’m sorry; I didn’t think that—”

“You don’t have to apologise—”

“The hell I don’t; I’ve put you in danger,” Rainbow spat. She put her hands behind her head, turning away from Cadance as she began to pace up and down the room. “I didn’t think that they would … what if they decide it’s easier to just take you out instead of anyone you might talk to?”

“I’m a Councillor of the Kingdom of Atlas,” Cadance declared. “It’s not that easy to just make me disappear.”

Tell that to Chrysalis. “I should never have got you into this,” Rainbow whispered. “If anything happened to you because you got on the radar of the wrong people, I … how would I explain that to Twilight? Maybe … maybe you should drop it. Drop it now, and maybe … maybe they’ll think that you gave up.”

“You brought this to me,” Cadance said. “You asked me to find out the truth.”

“The truth isn’t worth your life!” Rainbow insisted. “The truth isn’t worth one single life spent to bring it out into the open. Shining Armor can’t hold the truth at night. He can’t love it.”

Cadance stood up. “If what happened to Adam Taurus is just the tip of the iceberg,” she said, “if there are historic abuses that the SDC is covering up — or gods forbid, present ones — then revealing that is worth more than my life.” The sapphire heart around her neck, set in its gold necklace, glimmered in the northern sunlight. “People like Adam Taurus deserve liberty no less than Penny, no less than anyone else, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but—”

“Atlas failed Adam Taurus,” Cadance said. “And in so doing, we created a danger which we then unleashed upon the rest of Remnant, doing harm to those we claim to protect. The least we can do is not fail those who need our help and protection now, before they become more problems for the other kingdoms to deal with.”

“No matter the cost?” Rainbow asked softly.

Cadance smiled. “I’ve no intention of dying just yet,” she assured Rainbow Dash. “As I said, I’m glad that you wanted to see me about this, because I may need your help. As you say, it’s clear that someone is tying up loose ends before I grab hold of them; if I come across a viable lead, I may need you to go and chase it up for me, as someone who—”

“Can handle herself in a fight?” Rainbow suggested. “That’s a good idea. That’s the best idea.” Certainly, it was a better idea than Cadance venturing out to meet with people whom — if they were right — someone was already actively hunting.

“Something like that,” Cadance said. “Although, Rainbow Dash … there are people who would be upset if you died, too. Remember that, if I do send you a name.”

Rainbow grinned. “I remember it anyway, Councillor, but thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Cadance said. “For bringing this to my attention and for agreeing to assist me more directly while you’re here. I don’t have a name for you yet, but I’m hopeful. The last killing was two weeks ago, and I’ve been keeping on top of police reports: no suicides, no accidents. It could be that whoever is behind this feels that all of the toothpaste has been squeezed back into the tube, with no more work required.”

“And if they’re right?” Rainbow asked.

“If I have to, I’ll send you down to Mantle and get you to talk to ordinary mine workers, see if they recall anything untoward,” Cadance said. “They can’t kill everyone who was employed at that time.” She paused for a moment. “You said that he talked to Fluttershy; did he tell her anything?”

Rainbow thought about it for a moment. Had he? What had Fluttershy told her about their conversation? “Fern,” she said. “Calli Fern. That’s the name Adam gave of the person who did that to him.”

“You could have mentioned that before now,” Cadance pointed out.

Rainbow winced. “He wasn’t sure that was actually her name.”

“Even if it was only something like that, it’s still more than we had to go on before now,” Cadance said. “I’ll see what it turns up.”

“I appreciate it,” Rainbow said. “I appreciate … all of this. I may not like the fact that you’re putting yourself at risk at all, but at the same time, I do appreciate that you care. That you’re taking this seriously.”

“I don’t want Atlas to betray itself either,” Cadance said. “I … can I be honest with you, Rainbow Dash?”

“Of course.”

“I’m terrified by the thought of how high up this might go,” Cadance said. “I don’t want to believe that Jacques Schnee could be a party, because then I’d also have to wonder how much some of my fellow councillors knew, and … it would be so easy to dismiss this. It would be so easy to simply tell you that there must be an explanation, that this is just a case of one bad apple, if that, if it wasn’t just a tragic mistake made in the heat of the moment. It would be so easy to come up with a comforting formula that would let Atlas off the hook. But that wouldn’t actually help Atlas. What happened to that man, no matter his crimes, gnaws at the very foundations of this kingdom, and there is nothing that I take more seriously than that. And so, however much the potential answers terrify me, however high up this might go, I’m going to keep following this trail.” She paused. “I’m not sure that General Ironwood would agree with me on this point, but I’ve always believed that our highest duty is not to the Atlas that is but to the Atlas that could be, but which will never be if we accept the Atlas that is without challenging it to be better. If there is darkness in Atlas, then only by shining a light upon it can we become that which we can be.”

A smile pricked at the corners of Rainbow’s mouth. “You sound like Blake,” she said.

“Blake Belladonna?” Cadance asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” Rainbow said. “We met her—”

“At Beacon, where you helped her beat the rap for her membership of the White Fang and the Valish concocted a cockamamie story about her having been an Atlesian agent undercover,” Cadance said.

“I know how it sounds,” Rainbow said, “and when I first found out that she’d been in the White Fang, I was as mad—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Rainbow; that wasn’t the prelude to a reprimand,” Cadance said.

“Oh,” Rainbow said. “It’s just that, I thought that after what happened—”

“If I didn’t like it, I would have let you know about it before you brought it up organically,” Cadance said. She paused. “She’s not a member of the White Fang anymore, is she?”

“No,” Rainbow said at once. “Blake has proved where her loyalties lie.”

“Then why should I have a problem with it?” inquired Cadance. “She’s the daughter of Chieftain Belladonna of Menagerie, isn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then what was she doing in the White Fang?” Cadance asked. “What was she doing … anywhere but Menagerie?”

“Her parents went to Menagerie,” Rainbow said. “She didn’t. Blake didn’t agree with them on … she thought they were running away.”

“From?”

“The struggle for faunus rights,” Rainbow said.

“Some might say that she’s done that herself,” Cadance observed.

“No,” Rainbow replied. “She’s just learned to fight for them in a different way. A way with less actual fighting … well, okay, she’s a huntress, so there’s still going to be fighting, but less—”

“I get the idea,” Cadance assured her. “Is she in touch with her parents at all?”

“No,” Rainbow said, not mentioning the fact that she hoped that might change soon thanks to her meddling. Okay, Ciel, maybe I am a controlling person, but only when I know best.

“Hmm,” Cadance murmured. “That’s a little disappointing.”

“Why?” Rainbow asked.

“I thought we might have an opportunity,” Cadance murmured. “To open up a dialogue between Atlas and Menagerie. I’ve often thought that the fact that the only state that is governed by the faunus is also shut out of our system of international relations is … freighted with hopefully unintended subtext about the way that our societies view the faunus.”

“I think that if we want to help the faunus, we could start by looking at problems closer to home,” Rainbow murmured.

“Perhaps,” Cadance conceded. “All the same … to have the Chieftain of Menagerie’s daughter here in Atlas. I’m told that you want her to join us.”

“Twilight has told you everything, hasn’t she?” Rainbow asked.

“What did you expect?” Cadance responded. “Is it true?”

“I’ve decided not to encourage her any more, but, yes,” Rainbow said. “I think she could do a lot here, for the faunus and for Atlas.”

Cadance nodded. “Do you think that she’d meet me, if I asked her to?”

“I think she’d be delighted,” Rainbow said. “Do you want me to bring it up?”

“Yes, please,” Cadance said.

“Okay then,” Rainbow said, “I’ll—” Her scroll buzzed. “I’ll get that later.”

“Answer it, by all means,” Cadance said. “It might be important.”

“Are you sure?” Rainbow asked, and then when Cadance nodded, she said, “Thanks.” She pulled out her scroll and opened it up. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go.”

“So it was important,” said Cadance.

“Very important,” Rainbow agreed. “Penny’s back.”

Her Voice (New)

Her Voice

There were unfortunately too many ‘no running’ signs in the R&D lab for Rainbow to pretend that she hadn’t seen any of them, and so she merely walked briskly — very briskly, the sort of brisk walk that left the slightest hints of rainbows in the air behind her — through the pristine, gleaming corridors and into the lab.

Ciel had beaten her there, hopefully because she’d been closer by when she got the word — it wasn’t as though Rainbow had dawdled on the way or anything — and of course, Twilight, Moondancer, and Doctor Polendina.

And Penny, sitting up on the worksurface, her legs dangling down but not quite reaching the floor.

As the door slid open to admit Rainbow, Penny’s eyes turned towards her. “Hey, Rainbow Dash!” she called, in her own voice once more.

Rainbow grinned. “Good to hear your voice again, Penny,” she said, slowing down a little for her final approach.

“I’m glad to be able to hear it as well!” Penny declared. “I’m grateful for Twilight letting me talk, but it didn’t really sound like me.”

“I’m sorry, Penny,” Twilight said softly. “If I’d expected something might have happened like, well, what actually happened, then I would have—”

“Why would you have expected something like that, Twilight?” Doctor Polendina asked. “Nobody expected that Penny would be damaged in such a way.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. “Nobody,” he repeated. “Dash, Soleil.”

Ciel moved to stand by Rainbow’s side. “Sir?”

“I … I may owe you both an apology,” Doctor Polendina said. “In the heat of the moment, I had some very harsh words to say to the both of you, to you especially, Dash, but to both of you.”

“You weren’t yourself, Doctor,” Twilight ventured.

“You know better than that, Twilight, in every way,” Doctor Polendina said. “In the first place, you know that it is not your place to say what Dash and Soleil may or may not find offensive, and in the second place … I was in every respect myself. I was the real me. The person standing before you now, apologising, might be more accurately said to be not myself. I hope that doesn’t unduly taint the apology in your eyes.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, sir,” Rainbow replied. “Ciel, yes, if she’ll have it, but not me. As team leader, it was my responsibility to bring Penny back home safe—”

“I’m not a child!” Penny said sharply. “You don’t need to treat me like a baby.”

“I’m not,” Rainbow insisted. “I … okay, yes, I have done, and I’ll probably do it again for however much time we have left together, but this isn’t about you, Penny. This is about what it means to be a leader: the first duty of any leader, from me all the way up to the General himself, is to bring the boys and girls back home—”

“And you did,” Penny pointed out.

“Not in one piece,” Rainbow replied.

“But you did bring her back,” Doctor Polendina said. “I can’t deny that when I saw Penny, I was … well, I don’t think I need to describe what I felt — I think I made my feelings pretty clear to you — but … it’s very big of you to take responsibility like that. All’s well that…” He blinked rapidly; as he spoke, he had begun to gesture with one hand in front of his face, and now, he stared at that hand as though he had the answers for the test written on his palm. “All’s well that … all’s well that…”

“That ends well, Doctor?” Moondancer suggested.

“Yes,” Doctor Polendina said quickly. “Yes, all’s well that ends well, of course. Thank you, Moondancer.”

Moondancer didn’t reply. In fact, nobody said anything. Silence descended upon the laboratory like … like something really heavy flattening everything underneath it. Nobody knew what to say — or at least, Rainbow didn’t, and she could imagine that everyone else felt the same way. She didn’t like Doctor Polendina’s attitude to Penny, but … she could understand it, at least a little bit. This was a man who had built his own reputation and enhanced the greatness of Atlas both with the power of his mind, and now, that mind was failing him; it would be like if her limbs started to give out, and she had to spend the rest of her life — however short that ‘rest’ might be — in bed; bad enough to die, but even worse to lose the thing that made you yourself first, the thing that gave you value to Atlas and to others, the thing that made you special.

He was unlikely to want to talk about it, and so, Rainbow looked at Penny and said, “How are you feeling, Penny?”

“I’m feeling one hundred percent optimised!” Penny declared brightly.

“Glad to hear it,” Rainbow said. “Ready for the Vytal Festival?”

“I cannot wait!” Penny cried. Her voice dropped as she added, “Although, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to live up to the expectations that you and General Ironwood have of me, Father.”

“What makes you say that, Penny?” Doctor Polendina asked.

“It is because of what happened underneath Mountain Glenn, isn’t it?” Ciel suggested.

Penny nodded. “I needed you to protect me, and in the end, it was Rainbow who took out Mercury and Lightning Dust, not me. Maybe you should enter the one on one round instead of me?”

“Don’t tempt me, Penny,” Rainbow said, with a touch of laughter in her voice. She caught Ciel looking at her, and so she added. “I’m joking! I was obviously joking; why do you have to look at me like that?”

“Perhaps because I believe you might actually do it,” Ciel murmured.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not going to deny that I want to do it, but that isn’t the same thing as saying that I’m actually going to do it. I know why I’m here, I know why we’re all here, and I know that this is Penny’s moment.”

“Why?” Penny asked.

Rainbow frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why is it my moment?” Penny asked. “Why can’t it be your moment, to impress General Ironwood or show what a faunus is capable of?”

“Because we’re all here for you, Penny,” Twilight said. “This team, everything, it’s for your benefit.”

“For my benefit?” Penny replied. “Or for Atlas’ benefit?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rainbow said. “Not for this. For this, the only thing that matters is whether or not you want this. Do you want to go to the one on one rounds, do you want to stand there in the coliseum, with the crowd watching and all the folks on TV, do you want them cheering out your name, is that what you want?”

Penny looked into Rainbow’s eyes. “It is, but—”

“Then you’ll get your chance,” Rainbow said. “I guarantee it. It’s that simple.”

“But you want that too,” Penny pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m the team leader, and that means making sacrifices,” Rainbow said. She walked closer towards her. “As the team leader, my job is to help you out. Not because of who you are or how important you are, but because you’re on my team. Okay?”

Penny hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “But all the same … after what happened, what makes anyone think that I’ll be any good at the tournament?”

“Well, I can try and help you out with that too,” Rainbow said.

“The entire resources of the Academy and Atlas are at your disposal, Penny,” Doctor Polendina said. “Whatever you need. Everyone wants to see you do well in this tournament.”

Penny’s eyes glanced downwards. “I understand, Father,” she murmured. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Penny,” Doctor Polendina murmured. He let out a kind of groaning sigh. “I know that you heard … I know that I said … I know that I’m putting a lot of… gods’ sake what’s the word, crushing force—”

“Pressure?” Twilight suggested.

“Yes, pressure, I know that I’m putting a lot of pressure on you, but that’s only because I want to see you become the best that you can be, because I know,” Doctor Polendina placed a hand on Penny’s shoulders, “that you have the makings of greatness in you, Penny, and I just want the rest of the world to see that as I do.”

“And you know that if you don’t make it all the way to the finals, Pyrrha will be very disappointed,” Twilight said.

“Pyrrha?” Doctor Polendina asked. “Pyrrha Nikos?”

“That’s right,” Penny said. “I met her at Beacon, and now, she’s one of my best friends.”

A smile played across Doctor Polendina’s face. “Is that so?”

Penny nodded. “She and Ruby were the first two people I met in Vale when I … when I ran away,” she said, her voice dropping.

“Why don’t you tell your father about what’s happened to you since you’ve been at Beacon?” Ciel suggested. “I’m sure that he’d like to know.”

“Yes,” Doctor Polendina said. “Yes, I would.” He stepped back, away from Penny, and sat down in a chair that Twilight pulled over for him with her telekinesis. “I’d like that very much.”

Penny hesitated. “Where should I start?”

“Start at the beginning,” Ciel said. “That’s usually the ideal place to begin.”

Penny chuckled softly. “Okay,” she said. “So … it all started after I ran away. I’m sorry, Father, but I—”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Doctor Polendina said softly.

“'Doesn’t matter'?” Penny asked, sounding incredulous at the fact that her father might not want to discuss — or rebuke — her running away. “Are you sure? Do you mean it?”

“Now is not the moment to discuss it,” Doctor Polendina insisted. “Please, Penny, go on.”

Is that just because he doesn’t want to have the argument, and if he let Penny explain why she ran off, then he’d have to get into her reasoning with her? Rainbow wondered.

Penny hesitated for a moment, but then said, “Okay then. I ran away, I bought a ticket to Vale online — you should probably use something other than my name as your password, Father.”

“You shouldn’t say passwords out loud, Penny,” remonstrated Ciel.

“Is that really the issue here?” Rainbow asked her.

“Doctor, your password is ‘Penny’?!” Twilight gasped.

“I know, I know,” Doctor Polendina groaned. “I have … lately, I’ve had … trouble remembering more complex passwords.”

“Even so,” Ciel murmured.

“I could come up with a password for you and remember it?” Moondancer suggested.

“So that I need you to be here every time I want to access my own computers?” Doctor Polendina demanded.

“It might be better than you having a password that … well, that Rainbow could guess,” Twilight said. “No offence; it’s just that—”

“I’m not a computer person,” Rainbow said. “Don’t worry, Twi, I get the point.”

“That’s something that we can discuss later,” Doctor Polendina said irritably. “For now, Penny, go on.”

“I got my ticket, and I got on the airship to Vale,” Penny said. “I thought I was safe; the skyliner wasn’t stopped on the way, although obviously the rest of my team had followed me. But I made it to Vale, and I thought that I was … free.” Penny paused for a moment. “Then I realised that I didn’t know what to do in Vale. I was just there. I didn’t know anybody or have anywhere to go, and although I don’t require sleep or food, I would have liked something to stop me from getting bored. So I started wandering around the city, looking for something, anything, that caught my interest. That’s when I ran into Ruby and Pyrrha. Or, rather, that’s when Ruby and Pyrrha ran into me. Literally. Ruby was moving at super speed, and she didn’t see me as she stepped into the street.”

Doctor Polendina chuckled. “She has a speed semblance, this Ruby Rose?”

“Semblance: Petal Burst,” Ciel announced. “It allows Ruby to move at superhuman speeds, leaving rose petals behind her in a way which might be thought to be similar to Rainbow Dash’s rainbow.”

“'Might be'?” Rainbow asked.

“I believe Ruby’s semblance will evolve to be more than that,” Ciel said. “She does not merely give the impression of rose petals, as you give the impression of a rainbow; she actually creates rose petals. I believe that that act of creation, or transfiguration, gives a clue as to the likely direction of her semblance evolution.”

“Fascinating,” Doctor Polendina said. “I mean that genuinely, but for now, could we—?”

“Of course,” Ciel said. “My apologies, Doctor, Penny.”

“It’s fine,” Penny assured her. “So, Ruby and Pyrrha crashed into me, but they were both very sweet about it afterwards and wanted to make sure that I was okay, and when they found out that I was all alone and didn’t know my way around Vale, they both agreed to help me out. They were even willing to fight Rainbow Dash to keep her away from me.”

“Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary,” Rainbow said.

“Do you think you could have taken them?” Twilight asked, a touch of mischief entering her voice.

Rainbow laughed. “Ruby? Yes, I could definitely take her,” she said. “Pyrrha … I’m not so sure. I’d kind of like to find out some day, but … it was for the best that we didn’t find out then.”

“They were willing to fight?” Doctor Polendina asked. “For someone they didn’t know, a stranger?”

“They’re both so kind,” Penny said. “So warm and caring.”

“They’re what people call true huntresses,” Rainbow said. “The kind who do the right thing without thinking about it.”

She left unsaid that she had some issues with the idea of the true huntress as represented by Ruby, and to a lesser extent by Pyrrha; this wasn’t the time to get into it.

“And even when they found out what I was, they accepted me without having to think about it!” Penny cried.

Doctor Polendina’s eyebrows rose. “Really?” he said. “You told them?”

“General Ironwood gave his approval,” Ciel informed him.

“Did he?” Doctor Polendina murmured. “Well, they can’t be untold, I suppose. And they accepted it? They accepted you?”

Penny nodded eagerly. “They didn’t care, and neither did Jaune or Sunset. They’re Ruby and Pyrrha’s teammates. Jaune is Pyrrha’s boyfriend, and he seems like a pretty nice guy; he isn’t a great fighter like Ruby or Pyrrha or Sunset, and I think that bothers him sometimes, and I can understand why, but none of them seem to mind, and he has a really useful semblance that lets him help the others when they’re in trouble. Sunset … Sunset isn’t a true huntress like Pyrrha or Ruby, but she takes care of everyone else, and she always knows what to say to make people feel better, no matter what. But yes, I told Ruby, and I told Pyrrha, and then I told the others, and none of them minded. None of them treated me any differently than they had done before. I was so worried about what would happen when people found out, but … it was like I told them … I don’t know what it was like; it was like something that didn’t matter at all, like … if I told them I was left-handed. That’s how little difference it made. They didn’t care. They don’t care. They just … they accept me as I am.”

Doctor Polendina leaned forwards. “So … you were happy there, then?”

“I was,” Penny said. “I really was.”

Doctor Polendina nodded absently. He sat back, straightening up. “Tell me more, please,” he said. “I want … I want to know everything.”

So Penny told him everything; well, almost everything. She didn’t tell him about Salem or the relics or any of the classified information shared with them by the General and Professor Ozpin. She did, however, include accounts of their misadventures before the mission to Mountain Glenn; there were times when Rainbow scarcely knew where to hide her face.

“—and that’s when Rainbow came storming back out of Professor Ozpin’s office to tell us that we were going to hunt down Blake!” Penny declared.

Rainbow groaned.

Doctor Polendina looked at her. “It seems as though you were enjoying being out from under the eye of authority a little too much by then, Dash.”

Rainbow groaned again. “I’m not proud of what I did, sir,” she murmured.

“It worked out in the end,” Penny pointed out.

“That does not change the wrongheadedness of it,” Ciel muttered.

“Or make it any less embarrassing,” Rainbow added.

Penny passed on from that soon enough, thankfully, and returned to more everyday matters; despite what Rainbow had said to Cadance before coming over here, there had been a lot of time at Beacon in which no one had been trying to kill them, and in which the threat of the White Fang had seemed as distant as it was in Atlas. It was on those moments that Penny spent most of her time, dwelling upon everyday things, the school life that seemed so commonplace to Rainbow and the others but which had been new to her — and of course, upon time spent with friends.

By the time that she reached the end, or by the time that Doctor Polendina stopped her before she could describe the mission to Mountain Glenn with which he was already well-acquainted, the doctor had a soft smile fixed upon his face.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Yes, I am, I’m very glad. I’m glad that you … that they … I’m glad. You’ll have those memories to treasure, for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, Father,” Penny murmured.

Doctor Polendina nodded slowly. “I’m glad,” he repeated. He got up from his chair and patted Penny on the top of her head. “It has never been my intent to see you unhappy,” he said, “only to see that you fulfil your potential.”

“I understand,” Penny said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

For a moment, Rainbow thought that Doctor Polendina might say something else, but he let out a sort of wince of pain and pinched his brow with one hand.

“Doctor?” Twilight asked. “Doctor, are you okay?”

“No,” Doctor Polendina said bluntly. “No, I am not. But I just need … I need to rest for now. I am … I’m very tired. At least it wasn’t as though I was planning to get any more work done today anyway.” He managed to force a smile — and it was forced; Rainbow could see the effort he was making — as he said, “So, Twilight, Moondancer, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Penny, you should go back to the Academy for now, with Dash and Soleil. I’ll let you know if I need anything more from you.”

“Yes, Father,” Penny said softly as she got up off the workbench.

“Do you need me to call you a cab, Doctor?” Moondancer asked.

Doctor Polendina hesitated for a moment. “A cab? A cab? Yes, yes, that would be very kind of you, Moondancer. Very kind indeed.”

Moondancer lingered, and so did Twilight too, in the lab with Doctor Polendina as Rainbow and Ciel fell in on either side of Penny and, together, left the lab, the door sliding open to let them exit into the corridor beyond.

“Ciel,” Rainbow murmured, “would you mind giving Penny and I a minute?”

Ciel glanced from Rainbow to Penny. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” she admitted.

“Please?” Rainbow said.

Ciel was silent for a moment, and then for a moment more, and Rainbow was afraid that she would downright refuse to give them any space, but after a few moments had passed, she said, “Very well. I will take the stairs and see you at the bottom. Penny.”

“See you in a little bit,” Penny said, as Ciel went the opposite direction to them — heading for the stairs instead of the elevator. To Rainbow, Penny said, “I thought you said I should be nicer to her?”

“You should,” Rainbow told her. “But I’m not asking her for a minute to be rude but because … because Ciel wouldn’t agree with what I’m about to tell you.”

Penny blinked. “Why not?”

“Because … because Ciel is doing what she thinks is best for you, just like me,” Rainbow said. “We just disagree a little bit on what that is.”

They reached the elevator, and Rainbow waited for the lift to arrive — and for her and Penny to step into it — before she said anything else. As the lift began to move downwards towards the ground — or the surface level of Atlas, at least — Rainbow leaned against the elevator wall with her arms folded across her chest.

“I know that didn’t go the way you hoped it would,” she said.

Penny didn’t meet Rainbow’s eyes. “I heard what he said earlier, but … he was being so much nicer today, I thought that maybe he’d let me explain myself, that I want—”

“So much more than we’ve got planned,” Rainbow finished for her. She smiled thinly. “I should have paid more attention when you said that the first time. I’m sorry, Penny, for not listening, for not wondering … for taking so long to think about what you wanted.”

“It’s okay,” Penny murmured.

“No,” Rainbow said, “it isn’t. I … I thought that…”

I thought that of course you’d want to be a part of Atlas, just like of course only truly evil people would want to join the White Fang. Seems like I was wrong about both of those.

“It doesn’t matter what I thought. What matters is … well, there are two things that matter. The first is that you shouldn’t hold it against your father, no matter how frustrated he makes you.”

“Why not?” Penny asked. “You heard what he said; he thinks that I’m—”

“He’s still your father,” Rainbow insisted. She paused for a moment. “My father, both my parents, were … absolutely ridiculous. Everything I did, they’d act like I was the very first person in the history of Remnant to ever do that. If I came placed eighth in a race, they’d act like I won; they celebrated every stupid little thing about me like it was impressive, and it just go so annoying! But, and this is the thing that it took me a while to appreciate it, they did all of that awful stuff because they loved me. You know that Pyrrha didn’t speak to her mom all through last semester, right?”

Penny nodded. “Because of what her mother did … something about Jaune, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that, yeah; she really didn’t like the idea of them being together,” Rainbow said. “But that didn’t mean that she didn’t love Pyrrha. If she didn’t love Pyrrha at all, then she wouldn’t have cared. Starlight’s father babies her anytime she comes in reach; Sunburst’s mother treats him like a screw-up she needs to fix and make successful. Jaune’s parents didn’t want him to come to Beacon, as I understand it, and Blake’s parents … the point is that we’ve all got issues with our parents. I think just about everyone has issues with their parents — it’s a part of growing up — but it doesn’t mean that they don’t care… in fact, it’s because they care that they annoy us so much, even if it’s because they care too much. So don’t take it out on your father and don’t turn away from him, because if you do … if you do, then you’ll regret it, especially when he’s not around anymore.”

“So I should just give in?” Penny said. “I should just give up, accept what other people want for me?”

“I didn’t say that, and no,” Rainbow said firmly. “No, not at all. Not that at all.” She took a deep breath. “This is the part that Ciel didn’t want me to say because she thinks … she thinks that you should give in, if only because she doesn’t see a way out for you, but let me ask you something Penny: what do you want?”

Penny didn’t reply.

“You can say anything,” Rainbow said. “It doesn’t matter what I think or what Ciel thinks.”

“Really?”

“You should be nice to Ciel, but she doesn’t get to control your life; none of us do.”

Again, Penny hesitated, before she said, “I want to stay at Beacon.”

Rainbow had thought as much. She nodded. “Then I’ll make that happen,” she said. She wasn’t sure exactly how yet, or what it would cost, but she would make it happen.

She was — for now — Penny’s team leader, which meant that she could do no less.

The Changing World (New)

The Changing World

“Salutations!” Penny cried, waving eagerly from the other side of the scroll.

“Hi, Penny!” Ruby called out from where she sat on a chair, waving back. “You’re okay!”

“And so are you!” Penny yelled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner, I would have as soon as you woke up, except that I couldn’t because I was too badly damaged to move or speak.”

Ruby giggled. “It’s fine, Penny, I understand. I’m just glad that you’re better now.”

Penny smiled. “And are you better now too, Ruby?” she asked.

“Yep!” Ruby declared. “I’m one hundred percent combat ready and raring to go!”

“Where are you going?”

“Well, nowhere right now,” Ruby admitted. “But if I need to go anywhere, then nothing will stop me.”

“Ah, I understand,” Penny said. “I too am once more fully capable of autonomous motion, but have no destination to proceed to for now.”

Pyrrha laughed from where she stood at Ruby’s side and had to bend over in order for her face to be seen. “It’s wonderful to hear your voice again, Penny.”

“And it’s great to see you up and about too,” Jaune added; he was stood on the other side of Ruby, and likewise had to bend quite a bit in order to make himself seen by her.

“Thank you,” Penny replied. “It feels good to hear my own voice again as well. I was glad to be able to talk to people, but it was weird not sounding like me.”

“So how does it feel to be back on your feet?” Sunset asked. She was standing over Ruby and didn’t have to bend down quite as much as the other two in order to place her head just above that of Ruby herself.

“It feels…” Penny thought about that for a moment. “It feels back to normal,” she concluded, “but better.”

“'Better,' eh?” Sunset asked. “That sounds promising.”

“Did they give you some upgrades while they were making the repairs?” Jaune asked.

“No,” Penny said. “I still possess all my previous capabilities.”

“Really?” Sunset couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. “Even after what happened? You’d have thought that they would have changed up some stuff. Even if it was only giving you new wires that were resistant to shocks.”

“I haven’t asked, because I don’t really know how to ask,” Penny said, “but I think that it may be hard to make changes to me, either practically or because my father would need to get approval first. And besides, I’m not sure that I’d want to be given a lot of upgrades while I was damaged and unable to move or respond. This is my body, and myself, and even though it isn’t perfect, it’s still mine. Having someone change it, replace parts of me, even to make them better, it would be like someone cutting your hand off to give you a prosthetic — even if the functionality was superior, you wouldn’t like it.”

Sunset winced. “You’ve got a good point there,” she muttered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, Sunset; I know what you meant,” Penny assured her. “And to be honest, I wouldn’t mind changing myself, but I want that to be my choice, and not something that anyone else decided for me, even if they had my best interests at heart.”

Pyrrha had a smile upon her face as she asked, “So what did you mean, Penny, when you said that you felt better than before?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I feel as though Rainbow Dash and Ciel have been trying to understand me better,” she said. “To be honest, I’m still not sure Ciel actually does understand me, but she’s trying, and I think she might even end up understanding herself a little better too. I’m glad; I mean I’m glad that they’re trying, even if they don’t always succeed. I think they both understand that I don’t want what my father does, or General Ironwood, or the people who authorised my creation; I want what I want. I think they both realise that, even if Ciel doesn’t agree with it.”

“Doesn’t agree how?” demanded Ruby. “Does she think that you should do what other people want? Be what they want?”

“It’s not that bad,” Penny replied. “Well … maybe it is, but she doesn’t mean to be. She doesn’t think that I’ll be able to be anything other than what I am, and she doesn’t want me to be hurt.”

“And will you?” Sunset asked. “I mean, will you be allowed to be anything else?”

Penny paused for a moment. “I hope so,” she said quietly, her voice acquiring a touch of solemnity about it. “But even if I can’t, I’m still going to try!”

“I, for one, think that you’ll do it, Penny,” Pyrrha said.

“And if you need any help, you can always just ask us anytime,” Ruby added.

Penny’s smile lit up her eyes. “Thanks, girls. Thank you so much. I can’t believe how lucky I was to meet all of you.” She glanced at Sunset. “Sunset, do you know when—?”

“I haven’t heard back that that’s ready yet,” Sunset told her. “But I’ll pass on to Princess Twilight that you’re ready to go, and maybe I’ll get a response on where she is with getting the portal to work.”

“I can’t believe that Penny is getting to visit your home before we do,” Ruby groused mildly. “Not that I’m not happy for you, Penny, it’s just that—”

“It would feel really weird if you went to Equestria without me,” Sunset said. “Penny and Blake … it doesn’t feel as weird.”

“You know that the obvious thing there is for you to come with us, right?” Jaune pointed out.

“Sure,” Sunset murmured. “I’m just … not there yet.”

Silence greeted this particular pronouncement. Pyrrha reached out and awkwardly patted Sunset on the shoulder.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Well, that killed the mood, didn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Penny asked.

“Well, if you notice the way that—”

“What do you mean about not going back?” Penny explained impatiently. “Is something wrong?”

“With Equestria? No, you’re going to love it,” Sunset said quickly. “But I … would rather not talk about it.” She glanced left and right, as though she could see more of the room in which Penny stood than was currently visible in the scroll. “Are you on your own in there?”

“For now,” Penny said. “Rainbow and Ciel are getting ready.”

“Ready for what?” Pyrrha asked.

“Rainbow’s friends are holding a welcome home party,” Penny explained. “And Blake’s going too, even though she’s never been here before.”

“That sounds lovely,” Pyrrha said. “But don’t you need to get ready yourself? We wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Oh, I was given a thorough cleaning as part of my repairs,” Penny declared.

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “But perhaps you want to change into something different from usual?”

Penny was quiet for a moment. “That is a very good point,” she allowed. “I should probably do that. I’ll talk to you guys later!”

They all called out their goodbyes, the words mingling with one another, forming a morass of kindly sentiments and good wishes, before Penny hung up on her end, and Ruby’s scroll turned to black.

Ruby snapped the device shut. “It’s good to know that she’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Not just okay,” Jaune reminded her. “Better.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, it’s good that … it’s good that they can recognise that they need to treat Penny … better than they did before.”

For some reason she glanced at Sunset, and then at Pyrrha too.

“Is everything okay?” Sunset asked.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “Yeah,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” inquired Pyrrha, her voice gentle.

Ruby looked down at the floor. She licked her lips. “Why did you cut me off in the city, with Arslan? You took her side over mine.”

Pyrrha took a step backwards from Ruby. She folded her arms, then seemed to realise what she was doing and consciously unfold them again. “That was not what I thought I was doing.”

“What did you think you were doing?”

“I was sparing you a duel,” Pyrrha explained. “Arslan told you herself that she would not have tolerated too much insult to her pride.”

“Is that what you thought I was doing? Insulting her?”

“It matters little what I thought you were doing,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Arslan found your words … too sharp.”

“I was surprised,” Sunset said. “You didn’t go for my jugular when you found out that I only came to Beacon for the … for the fame, the glory.” Celestia, what a fool I was.

Ruby shuffled uncomfortably on her seat. “That’s … different.”

One of Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Different how?”

“You were still going to be a huntress,” Ruby pointed out. “Maybe not for the best reasons, but helping people is helping people, right? You weren’t going to spend four years here and then walk away at the end.” She frowned. “Do you think that I was right about Arslan, or not?”

“Does that matter?” Sunset asked. “It’s over and done with now.”

“It matters,” Ruby insisted. “Do you agree with me?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said quietly, as if she feared that Arslan might hear her. “Arslan’s reasons for going to Haven are — or were, at least — rather selfish, and, to speak true, they verged upon the unworthy. I told her so myself, once.”

“But you didn’t want me to tell her the same thing?”

Pyrrha glanced away. “You … your tongue … you can be quite sharp when it comes to this sort of thing. I feared you would not be gentle with her. Arslan may not live up to — or have lived up to in the past — the standards of a true huntress, but at the same time … what point is there in telling her so now, as she is starting to change? Is it not enough that she is rethinking all of her past attitudes and considering committing herself properly to the path of a huntress?”

“What’s this about, Ruby?” demanded Sunset. “Why does it matter that Pyrrha stopped you from reaming Arslan out the way that you’d have liked?”

Ruby looked from Pyrrha to Sunset, then back again, then back to Sunset. She folded her arms and didn’t look at either of them, choosing to pout at the dorm room door instead. “I wish you guys would treat me like an equal, is all.”

“We don’t—” Sunset began, then stopped as Ruby looked at her. “Okay, yes, I do, and I will even admit that I do it on purpose, sometimes. In my defence, you are younger than me.”

“Not that much younger,” Ruby insisted. “And if I want to say something that gets Arslan so worked up she challenges me to a duel, that’s my business.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “You are aware of how childish it is to say ‘I’ll get beaten up if I want to,’ right?”

“I might win!” Ruby insisted. “You could both stand to have some faith in me as well.”

“I have a lot of faith in you, in certain situations,” Sunset declared. “But single combat against a Mistralian gladiator isn’t one of them.”

“You may not want to hear it, Ruby, but Sunset is right,” Pyrrha murmured. “You are a little deficient in fighting against other people, as opposed to grimm, whereas it is in fighting other people that Arslan excels. She would destroy you.”

“It should still be my choice,” Ruby muttered.

“Are we not allowed our care?” Pyrrha asked.

“You’re not allowed to take it as far as you like without reference to the people that you say that you care for,” Jaune declared, putting a hand on Ruby’s shoulder.

Pyrrha blinked. “That I ‘say’ I care for?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jaune said hastily. “I know how you feel, and so does Ruby, but that doesn’t change the fact that…” He trailed off for a moment. “I love you, and I know that I can always count on you if I’m in trouble,” he added to Sunset, looking at her over his shoulder. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this team is divided into two halves: people who do, and people who have things done to them. I know that we’ve already talked about this, Pyrrha, but the fact is that it applies to Ruby just like it applies to me.”

“I have promised to make my best endeavours in that regard,” Sunset declared defensively. “And the fact is that Ruby has also—”

“And we’ll hold Ruby to that, me included,” Jaune said. He glanced down at Ruby. “Sorry I can’t be one hundred percent on your side, but I’d hate to lose you either.”

Ruby let out half a sigh. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I think you’re being very melodramatic about this to describe yourselves as people who are done to,” Sunset said. “When have either of you really been done to by us?”

“Well…” Pyrrha said, her shamefacedness clear despite the softness of her tone as she began to play with her crimson sash with both hands.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Okay, when have I done things to you?”

“I can think of at least one example,” Jaune said heavily, his eyes fixed on Sunset.

Right. The Velvet thing. Sunset cleared her throat. “Well… that was in your best interests.”

“It’s always in our best interests — according to you, but we don’t get to make the decision for ourselves. And I think you know that I have a point as well; you just don’t like it.” Jaune said.

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. Of course there was an example of Sunset doing to Ruby and Jaune — and to Pyrrha as well, in this particular instance — it was just that Jaune — and Ruby, and Pyrrha — were unaware of it.

“At times,” Pyrrha said, “I fear we love not wisely but too well.”

“And that’s one of the things that I love about you, you have such a good heart,” Jaune said. “A strong heart, in so many ways. But the fact that your feelings are so much stronger than ours doesn’t mean that ours don’t count or that you can just roll over ours and bury them beneath your own.”

“I have already given you my word,” Pyrrha whispered.

“I know,” Jaune said, with almost equal softness. “But perhaps you need to make a promise to Ruby as well.”

Pyrrha nodded stiffly, then bowed her head. “Forgive me, Ruby; it was not my place to intervene between you and Arslan, and I shall be more conscious of what is my place in regards to you in future.”

“You don’t have to be so formal about it,” Ruby said. “But … thanks. That would be great. I appreciate that you want to look out for me, I just … it doesn’t have to be so … all the time, you know?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I think I do, yes. I will bear it in mind.” She looked at Jaune. “It is a flaw that has been pointed out to me already as one to correct. Hopefully, the future will show that I have done so.”

Ruby and Jaune both looked at Sunset, the latter turning around and the former twisting in her seat.

“I’m trying my best!” Sunset squawked loudly. “I’m not going to say that I’ll change when I…” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “When I don’t know that I’ll be able to. I’ll try, but I make no promises, because I’d rather disappoint you now than break my word later. I know that it’s not the answer that you want, but … you know, one reason I’m not going to promise is that I don’t want you to feel exonerated from coming to meet me a little as well.” She ran one hand over her face and into her fiery hair. “If that sounded too defensive on my part, I apologise.” She retreated across the room and sat down heavily upon her bed.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asked.

“I’m fine,” Sunset informed her, for all that it was not entirely true. “I am fine. I’m well enough. I’m doing okay.”

“That doesn’t sound like something someone okay would say,” Jaune said.

Sunset let out a little bark of laughter. “When did you become so perceptive?”

“This doesn’t really need a huge amount of perception,” Jaune replied.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “Still…?”

Sunset smiled a smile which reached her eyes but sparked no joy in them, a sad smile, and a little wan. “For the moment yet, I’m afraid,” she said.

Pyrrha frowned, but before she could say anything else, both her and Sunset’s scrolls began to buzz at once.

Sunset got out her scroll, which identified the caller as Lady Nikos.

“My mother?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset looked up at her. “You too?”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied.

They both answered at once — and at the same time.

“Mother,” Pyrrha said.

“My lady,” Sunset said, getting up off the bed.

“Pyrrha, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos replied, inclining her head to them both from out of the screen. “I hope that I am not disturbing you.”

“No, my lady, you are not,” Sunset said quickly, grateful for any disturbance that had, in fact, occurred.

Jaune stepped delicately, and with some tremor of nervousness in his step, over to Pyrrha’s side. He cleared his throat. “Uh, good afternoon, my lady.”

“It is presently my evening, Mister Arc, but never mind,” Lady Nikos said. She pursed her lips for a moment. “I spoke with Lord Rutulus today, at court,” she announced.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied coolly. “What did you say to one another?”

“He described you as demeaning yourself, and I rebuked him in consequence,” Lady Nikos said.

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. “I see,” she said softly. “Thank you, Mother, for defending me. For defending us.”

“Yes, thank you, my lady,” Jaune added.

“Do you think that I would stand by and see you insulted?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Nevertheless, you are aware that there will be more of this the longer things go on.”

“I care not, Mother,” Pyrrha insisted. “My happiness is dearer to me than the good opinion of all the lords in Mistral.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “It will be hard for you, when you come home,” she said. “It will be hard on both of you.”

“Nevertheless,” Pyrrha murmured, but she could not stop her eyes from glancing uncertainly towards Jaune.

Jaune took her free hand in his. “It may not be easy, my lady,” he said, “but I’ve found a lot of things don’t come easy to me since I started at Beacon, and I haven’t given up on any of them yet. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it.”

A faint blush of colour rose to Pyrrha’s cheeks, and a smile played upon her lips.

“You have a silver tongue, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos declared, in a voice that was one part exasperated but at the same time sounded one part almost amused. “I pray it does not lose its lustre. Miss Shimmer?”

“Yes, my lady?” Sunset asked.

“I understand that you have been very busy recently … forgive me, Miss Shimmer, Pyrrha; forgive me all of you; how is Miss Rose?”

“I’m okay,” Ruby called as she moved quickly to stand by Sunset, who lowered the scroll so that Lady Nikos could see Ruby’s face in it.

“I’m awake, my lady, thank you for asking. I have been for a little while now.”

“My apologies, my lady; I should have thought to—”

“No apology is required, Miss Shimmer; I have no doubt that Miss Rose’s awakening was a moment of great feeling for you,” Lady Nikos said. “Too great to bear me in mind, I’m sure.” The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “Had it been Pyrrha in the hospital bed, I would not be so forgiving.”

Sunset chuckled. “Nor I have been so dilatory, my lady.”

Lady Nikos nodded. “Miss Rose, I am glad to see you recovered, and fully recovered by the looks of you.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ruby replied. “I feel fine now.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” Lady Nikos said. “The world into which you have embarked is perilous, but your line shows valour, passed from your mother to yourself, and it would be a great tragedy for Vale, I deem, if that line were to end with you because you perished too young.”

Ruby hesitated, her mouth opening and then closing again. She played with her hands, turning her fingers over one another. “Nobody has ever put it quite like that before, my lady.”

“That does not surprise me; you are all rather young to think of such things,” Lady Nikos replied. “Although if the young were to give more thought to such considerations, that might be no bad thing. In any case, I think it will do you no ill to remember my words, Miss Rose, and to ask yourself whether you wish to be the last flowering of your name, however brilliant that flowering might be, or whether you wish to bequeath Vale a garden of Roses to follow in your footsteps, as you have followed in those of your mother.” She paused for a moment. “In any event, I am glad to see you well. As I was saying, Miss Shimmer.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“I am not unmindful of the fact that you have been preoccupied recently,” Lady Nikos said, “and yet, now that the semester is over and there is some time before the Vytal Festival, it would be of great use if you could find some information regarding Mister Arc’s lineage.”

“Still, Mother?” Pyrrha exclaimed. “Haven’t you—?”

“No longer for the sake of my pride, but for your comfort,” Lady Nikos interrupted. “As I said, it will not be easy for you, but it will be easier if you can present Mister Arc as something more than … well, more.”

“I understand, and I apologise for the lack of progress upon this front, my lady, just as I thank you for your understanding,” Sunset murmured. She licked her lips. “May I ask … to what level of scrutiny must any claims we make hold up?”

Lady Nikos’ jade eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting that Pyrrha, and Mister Arc, and even myself should lie to Mistral, Miss Shimmer?”

“I take it that is a no, my lady,” Sunset murmured.

“In truth, that is my surprise that you would suggest such a thing,” Lady Nikos replied, with amusement very close at hand within her voice.

“I would never have deceived you, my lady,” Sunset lied.

“Hmm,” Lady Nikos said, leaving Sunset in some doubt as to whether she was believed or not. “I think it would need to be a deception of the highest quality in order to deceive all who would need to be taken in by it. Have you given up hope of finding any actual evidence?”

“No, my lady, I merely … you know that the chance of Jaune turning out to be something other than what he is are slim.” Sunset looked up from her scroll. “But Jaune is going home soon, so perhaps you could ask some questions about your family history while you’re there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune said, although he didn’t sound very sure about it. “Yeah, I guess I could. We Arcs have lived there for a few years, so maybe something will turn up. No harm in trying, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Mister Arc; that seems to be the least you can do,” Lady Nikos said.

“Mother,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

“You must allow me some prickliness, Pyrrha; I cannot make my peace wholeheartedly with this so swiftly,” Lady Nikos insisted. “But I will let the matter lie, for now, and hope that that will satisfy you. I did not, as it happens, call in order to badger Mister Arc nor to praise him, but because the court of Mistral met today, and I thought that you might be interested to learn what was decided there.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Sunset said. “As you can imagine, we are on tenterhooks to know whether Pyrrha will still be with us for the Vytal Festival.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you might be pressed to go somewhere, and it would be as well if you were not,” Sunset replied.

“No one will be pressing Pyrrha to go anywhere,” Lady Nikos said. “Nor any Haven student, or indeed any student of Mistralian birth. The lords and ladies took the view that it would seem ridiculous, and perhaps cowardly also, to bring our students home when the danger was passed when we had left them there when the danger was real and present. Whatever one thinks about the wisdom of that, the choice was made and cannot be changed or unmade now. I believe it helped that nobody truly wished to see Haven pull out of the Vytal Tournament. Nobody expects Haven to win — or at least, nobody would dare to say so in my presence — but there is some chatter around Arslan Altan and some hope for a better showing than in recent years.”

Sunset grinned. “And of course, Pyrrha’s glory will be taken to shine on Mistral, my lady, for all that she be a Beacon student.”

“Of course, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said, a smile of her own playing upon her aged features. “Ought it be any other way?”

“Not at all, my lady.”

“What is Mistral going to do about its security, Mother?” Pyrrha asked. “Lady Terri-Belle seemed concerned, or at least concerned enough to ask me to come home to Mistral not as a student, but as a huntress.”

“That was also a subject of discussion,” Lady Nikos said. “It pains me to confess it, but our situation is not as one might desire. Many huntsmen have set out on missions and failed to return; it is said that if the Breach had occurred in Mistral, then we would not have been able to withstand the grimm, short of the Atlesian assistance you possessed in Vale.”

“I … can see why some think that,” Pyrrha said softly. “I do not wish to believe it either, but when I think back to what we encountered there … I am forced to agree.”

“There is no way that Mistral could have been breached as Vale was,” Sunset pointed out.

“And yet, if a horde of grimm even approached the walls, what then?” Pyrrha asked.

“What are you going to do about it?” Ruby asked.

“Many things, which may or may not make a difference,” Lady Nikos said. “Lord Rutulus is reaching out to the SDC on behalf of Mistral to purchase combat androids; there is talk of raising an army, although that will take time and will be small in number at first, and we are going to sell our mothballed warships to Vale and use the money to buy newer, more impressive models.”

“Surely it would be better to put your airships in the air, my lady,” Sunset said. “Better to have something flying than something better in the yard.”

“It could be argued so,” Lady Nikos conceded. “Perhaps the Steward doesn’t feel the situation is quite that urgent.”

“Do you think it is?” Jaune asked. “That urgent, I mean?”

Lady Nikos did not immediately reply. “This business of our disappearing huntsmen is worrying,” she said. “Especially considering the wave of attacks that our villages endured during your vacation in Mistral. There is, as yet, no sign that it is developing into anything more, but … your father, Pyrrha, always told me that the grimm were mindless beasts, and yet, at present, there are times when it seems that it is not so.”

“Father told you the truth, as he understood it,” Pyrrha replied delicately. “But there is so much that we don’t know about the grimm; our professors can study them for years and still only scratch the surface.”

“A worrying thought,” Lady Nikos murmured. “As I say, it is troubling, and yet, if it were not so, then I would not be concerned, for there are no other clouds on the horizon.”

“Do you think that the right decisions have been made, my lady?” Sunset asked.

“That remains to be seen, Miss Shimmer; I am not a prophet,” Lady Nikos replied. “And yet I have trouble seeing how other decisions could have been made.” She paused. “I feel as though I may have said too much; I would not want to distract you from the upcoming tournament, Pyrrha.”

“Mother, with everything that has happened, I am not sure there is anything you could say or not say that would distract me more than I already am.”

“That will not do,” Lady Nikos said, her voice sharpening. “There will be no victory without focus.”

“Does it matter, now?” Pyrrha demanded. “I know that you have dreamed of this, I know that you want me to win the tournament on your behalf, but with everything else that’s going on—”

“What else is going on?” Lady Nikos inquired. “The battle is over, is it not?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “But at the same time … it makes tournaments and triumphs seem a little irrelevant, don’t you think?”

“Then when will they be relevant?” Lady Nikos shot back. “There will always be battles, there will always be threats, there will always be things besides which the Vytal Festival pales by comparison, and yet, it goes on nonetheless, and is accorded value in the eyes of men.”

“We must live,” Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha looked at her, a touch of sharpness in her emerald eyes.

“You said it first, not me,” Sunset said. “But if you really believe this, then I’ll tell you what I told Skystar when she started to feel that way: it’s after big things have gone on that people need to escape from their lot the most. They need to see a show to make them feel better, and they deserve the best show in town, and right now, that’s you, Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl and everything else besides.” She smiled. “Think of it as a duty that you owe, Shepherd of the People.” Her smile turned into something almost vicious. “And besides, are you really telling me that the thought of winning the greatest tournament in the whole of Remnant doesn’t appeal to you?”

Pyrrha drew in a breath. “The thought of victory does appeal to me,” she admitted. “I am not free from vanity or pride.”

“And we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sunset assured her. “Trust me, my lady, when I say that we shall deliver Pyrrha into the one on one; you may depend on us.”

“I have,” Lady Nikos said. “And I shall continue to do so. Goodnight, Miss Shimmer; goodnight, Pyrrha; goodnight, all of you.”

“Goodnight, Mother.”

“Goodnight, my lady,” Sunset said as Lady Nikos hung up on them.

Sunset shut her scroll, and put it away. “So,” she said. “That … was some news.”

“Sunset’s right,” Jaune said. “Even if you were never going to leave, it’s good that you won’t have to put up with anyone telling you that you ought to go.”

“I suppose that is some comfort,” Pyrrha conceded. “But more to me is this news of Mistral raising an army.”

“Atlas has an army,” Ruby pointed out. “And so does Vale, even if it doesn’t seem to be very good at the moment. Vacuo doesn’t, but Vacuo … well, it’s Vacuo, isn’t it? But there’s no reason why Mistral shouldn’t have an army, is there?”

“No, I suppose not,” Pyrrha admitted. “But we have done without for nearly seventy years; ever since the end of the Faunus Rights Revolution, there has been no need for an army. The huntsmen have always been sufficient to keep Mistral safe, despite the vastness of its territories.”

“Or because of them?” Ruby suggested. “Maybe they’ll find out that their soldiers aren’t very good at protecting the outlying villages and towns, because they can’t work alone or in small groups the way that a huntsman can.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha murmured. She drifted away from Jaune, walking to the window seat and sitting down upon it, looking out of the window across the school grounds.

A sigh escaped her.

Sunset began to walk around the beds towards her. “What are you thinking?”

“Vale is looking to strengthen its forces,” Pyrrha said. “And now Mistral as well? What if this was Cinder’s plan all along?”

Sunset folded her arms. “You’re giving her too much credit.”

Pyrrha glanced back at her. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because she’s an impulsive idiot who isn’t half as smart as she thinks she is,” Sunset said. We have that in common, too. “She isn’t capable of thinking that many moves ahead, or of predicting the outcomes like that.”

“Salem might be,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“But why?” Jaune asked. “What would either of them get out of it? How does it help Salem if the kingdoms are stronger?”

“I … don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Perhaps I simply don’t like the fact that the world is changing.”

“But we can’t stop the change; we just have to live with it,” Ruby said. “Things change, and we just have to accept them and move on.”

Pyrrha smiled at her. “I know,” she said softly. “I just,” — she looked out of the window once more — “wish we knew what was coming next.”

Reunion (New)

Reunion

Sugarcube Corner sat, appropriately enough, on the corner of a very ordinary Atlesian street, about halfway between Atlas Academy and the drop-off. It was two-storey, like all the other buildings along the street heading off in either direction, with the Cakes living on the first floor and the actual café being on the ground.

A pink and fuchsia-striped awning covered the ground floor on both visible sides of the building, reaching as far as the edges of the adjoining businesses, while wooden tables — with white parasols rising out of the middle of them — and chairs sat outside. All of them were empty as Rainbow, Ciel, and Penny approached the café.

The shutters were down behind the large windows that covered most of the north and west sides, although in one window could still be seen the ‘Closed for a private party’ sign.

Pinkie was waiting for them at the door. She had tied up her hair into a massive high ponytail that rose up above her head and then cascaded downwards into curling waves like the product of an out of control candyfloss machine. She wore a short blue jacket over a white t-shirt with a cupcake on the front, a lavender sash tied into a bow around her waist, and a ruffled skirt of many shades of pink. Her legs were bare, but her blue boots rose up almost as high as her knees; little pink bows topped the laces.

“Hey, guys!” she cried out, waving to them as she saw them approach.

“Hey, Pinkie!” Rainbow shouted back, waving to her with one hand.

“I feel a little overdressed,” Ciel said softly. She was wearing a midnight blue dress with a halter top and a skirt that went down to her ankles; the fabric shimmered and sparkled, or at least it would have done if the sun hadn’t been going down and the moon not quite up yet, so there wasn’t a lot of light for it to shimmer and sparkle in. “Although perhaps I should have guessed when you didn’t bother to change.”

“I changed,” Rainbow replied defensively.

“Into the same outfit you wore while we were at Beacon,” Ciel pointed out.

“Which I haven’t worn since we got back to Atlas,” Rainbow replied. “Which means: I changed.” She grinned. “And don’t worry about it; nobody’s going to say anything.”

“Isn’t one of the lessons in etiquette class that nobody is ever embarrassed by being too well-dressed?” Penny asked. She was also wearing a dress, a green one that matched her eyes and left her legs bare below the knee.

“Far be it from me to criticise our curriculum, Penny, but I have my doubts about that particular lesson sometimes,” Ciel admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Rainbow insisted. “Look, I guarantee that you will not be the most overdressed person in there when we get inside. So relax. This is going to be great.”

“Does everyone know that I … what I am?” Penny asked.

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “But you can tell them if you want to. I didn’t want to decide that for you.”

“Really?” Penny said. “That’s okay?”

“They’ve all been cleared,” Rainbow told her. “You see— I’ll tell you when we get inside.” They had reached the edge of the road now. Sugarcube Corner — and Pinkie Pie — lay just a road away.

A truck branded with the snowflake of the SDC drove down the road, temporarily coming between them. There was no other traffic, however, so as soon as the truck had passed, Rainbow led the way across the road and jumped up onto the curb on the other side, where Pinkie was waiting.

“Pinkie!” Rainbow cried as the two of them grabbed each other simultaneously, each attempting to pull the other into the hug. Rainbow, the stronger of the two, actually succeeded, wrapping her arms around Pinkie, enfolding her, pulling her tight. She could feel the warmth of Pinkie’s cheek against hers; she could feel Pinkie’s fluffy hair against her temple. She could feel Pinkie making up for the fact that Rainbow had done the wrenching with the bone-crushing tightness of her embrace.

“I feel your hugs are as tight as ever,” Rainbow said.

Pinkie giggled. “No, they’re not.”

Rainbow laughed. “I’ve missed you.”

“I know,” Pinkie said with another laugh.

Rainbow let her go. “How have you been?”

“Now why would we want to stand out here and talk when there’s a perfectly good party waiting on the other side of the door?” Pinkie asked.

Rainbow chuckled. “Good point.” She gestured to Penny and Ciel. “You met my teammates, didn’t you, when you came to Vale?”

“Yep,” Pinkie chirruped. “Ciel Soleil and Penny Polendina, right?”

Ciel curtsied. “A pleasure to meet you again, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie smiled. “Thank you, for taking care of Dashie.”

Rainbow spluttered in wordless outrage.

Penny frowned a little. “We took care of her?”

“You were on her team, right?” Pinkie asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Then you took care of her,” Pinkie said. “Isn’t that what teammates do? Take care of each other?”

Penny looked away.

Pinkie’s face fell. “Oh. Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I only meant to say thank you; please don’t be sad.”

“It’s fine,” Penny said, then hiccupped. She let out a kind of growl of irritation. “Okay, I wish I really had protected Rainbow Dash, or somebody, but I…” She smiled. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course we can,” Pinkie said, stepping lightly closer to Penny and putting an arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to go in there, and we are going to have a great time.”

“Are we the last ones to arrive?” asked Rainbow.

“Yep,” Pinkie confirmed. “Everyone’s in there waiting for you.”

“Then I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer, should we?” Rainbow replied. She crossed the distance to the door in a couple of quick strides and pushed it open. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Rainbow held the door open for Ciel.

“Thank you,” Ciel murmured as she walked inside.

Rainbow gestured to Penny and Pinkie. “After you.”

Penny didn’t reply, but Pinkie nodded to Rainbow as she steered Penny in. Rainbow followed them, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft thud. Despite the heating grid that kept Atlas at a liveable temperature, it was noticeably warmer inside the café; that was one of the reasons Rainbow had changed back into an outfit meant for southern climes; it didn’t matter so much when you knew you were going to be getting into the warmth of the indoors for a long time.

Sugarcube Corner was not huge, but it was big enough for the number of people who were inside; the ceiling was turquoise and decorated with swirls like air currents — or ocean currents maybe — tracing patterns across it, and in between the yellow spotlights that hung from the ceiling, and from the embedded lights that were embedded into the ceiling itself. The headboards were the same colour and had the same swirling patterns on them, alongside pink hearts that stood out a little more against the turquoise. The walls were unpainted wooden slats beneath the windows, and brown pillars in between them with leaves painted on in an unobtrusive brown. The floor was white and grey tiles, some of which looked black because of the shadows cast by the tables and chairs. Although most of the chairs were piled up on the tables, creating more open space in the middle of the floor.

And inside, waiting, were the best people she knew: Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, Fluttershy, Maud, and Blake.

And Spike, whom the jury was still out on.

“Hey, girls,” Rainbow said. “We made it.”

Rarity smiled. “And wonderful to see you, darling.”

As Rainbow had expected, the extravagance of her attire put Ciel to shame; she was wearing … okay, Rainbow had a hard time working out exactly what she was wearing. It wasn’t a dress, because it had legs like pants, but it was also a one-piece, like a jumpsuit or a onesie, except that Rarity would never wear anything like that. Except that she kind of was. Anyway, it was black, and it hugged her figure, and it had gems or crystals stitched into the legs all the way up to the knees, and her black boots were wearing crowns that glimmered under the light from the ceiling. She was also wearing a cape, black and studded with gems around the collar, clasped with the most enormous brooch that Rainbow had ever seen; it was bigger than Rainbow’s hand, it was bigger than Spike’s head, and it looked like a shellfish, a spiky crystal shellfish with sparkly spikes. Her arms were bare, but she had black gloves on her hands and bracelets of pearls and sapphires — or they looked like pearls and sapphires, anyway — around her wrists. She was wearing even more sapphires, or fake sapphires, in her hair, which looked a lot more windswept and wavy than normal without looking untidy.

Somehow. That was Rarity for you. Always pulling it off.

“And the two of you, of course,” Rarity added as she swept forward. “Oh my goodness, Ciel, what a lovely dress; where did you get it?”

“Nice to see you too, Rarity,” Rainbow said.

“Of course, dear, of course,” Rarity said, planting a kiss on Rainbow’s cheek. “But you mustn’t begrudge me the chance to exchange notes with a fellow fashionista.”

“Never,” Rainbow agreed. She looked over to the wooden counter, where Mr. and Mrs. Cake were standing, putting a few things away. “Thanks for letting us have the run of the place for the night, Mrs. C.”

“Not at all,” replied Mrs Cake, a slightly plump older woman with pink and fuchsia hair — the same colour as the streaked awning outside — that curled up on top of her head like the icing on a, well, cake. “It’s so good to have you back home. As I was saying to Twilight, this place is never so happy as when the six of you are in it. And of course, it’s an honour to host a bona fide hero of Atlas home at last,” she added with a glance towards Blake.

Blake tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace.

“Now, Pinkie knows how to work the drinks machines, and there’s plenty to eat so you won’t go hungry,” Mrs. Cake said.

“And Pinkie also has the keys to lock up when you’re all finished,” added Mr. Cake, a square-jawed man with a mess of hair as orange as a carrot, with a very large red and white bow tie obscuring the collar of his blue shirt.

“We’ll leave everything spotless, Mister Cake,” Twilight promised.

“I know you will,” Mr. Cake assured her. “You’re all good girls.” He lifted up the counter for his wife, who left first, heading towards the door. “Have fun!”

“Do you have anything planned for your night off?” Rainbow asked.

“Dinner and a show.”

“It’s been so long since we could have a night out like this,” Mrs. Cake said. “So this party really works out for all of us.”

“You have fun too!” Pinkie cried.

The Cakes smiled at them as they took their leave; the bell above the door jingled as Mr. Cake opened it for his wife, and then Ciel caught it as it closed and shut it gently after them.

“Alright!” Spike yelled, sticking one paw in the air. “Let’s get this party started!”

Everyone looked at him.

“What?” Spike asked. “I held it in while the Cakes were around. I talk now; at some point, you’re all going to have to get used to it.”

“How are you talking?” Maud asked in her typically unruffled tone.

Spike grinned. “Classified information.”

Maud stared at him for a moment. “I see,” she murmured.

“Spike does have a point,” Pinkie pointed out. She pointed at Twilight, arm outstretched. “Twilight! Hit the music!”

Twilight smiled and turned around to push a button on the boombox behind her. Instantly, music began to fill the café.

It was playing, of course, a Rainbooms number.

There was a time we were apart, but that’s behind us now,

See how we made a brand new start, and the future’s looking up!

Oh-oh oh-oh!

Penny blinked rapidly. “That … is that you singing?”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Did I really not tell you that I was in a band?”

“No.”

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “Not once, to impress you with how cool I am?”

Penny shook her head. “Not even once.”

“Huh,” Rainbow said. “Well, then, yes, that is my band—”

“Our band!” chorused Applejack, Pinkie, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Twilight.

“The Rainbooms,” Rainbow continued. “Twilight is the lead singer—”

“All of us can sing, but they let me be the lead singer because I can’t play any instrument,” Twilight said.

“Nonsense, darling; you can play the piano beautifully,” Rarity said. “And the violin, for that matter.”

“I don’t play the piano as well as you,” Twilight said. “And whoever heard of a violin in a pop group?”

“Avant garde, darling,” Rarity insisted. “I keep saying that we should try it, but nobody believes it will work.”

“I think it could add some tone to proceedings,” Ciel declared. “Not that there is anything wrong with your current sound, but it might lend the odd song a touch of class, if you follow me.”

“Oh, I do, I do,” Rarity said.

“I’m the lead guitar,” Rainbow continued. “And I also do vocals on some of the numbers. Like Twilight said, everyone sings, but I’m the second lead vocalist after Twilight. Applejack plays bass guitar, Pinkie is on the drums—”

Pinkie patted her hands rapidly on the countertop.

“Rarity plays keyboard, and Fluttershy’s on the tambourine,” Rainbow finished.

Penny’s hands were balled up over her heart. “That is so cool! Could you teach me how to play the guitar?”

Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, I could show you a few things. Maybe if we have time, we could throw a number together. That’d be cool, wouldn’t it, guys?”

“Absolutely,” Applejack agreed.

“We’d be happy too.”

“Hey, Blake,” Spike said. “Why don’t you join the Rainbooms too?”

“I don’t—”

“Ooh, that’s a great idea!” Pinkie cried. “Now that you’re part of the group, it’s only natural that you should also become part of the band! What do you want to play? Triangle? Sousaphone? Seraphine?”

“I only recognise one of those, and I don’t think it’s for me,” Blake said. “I’m not much of a musical person.”

“Triangle is perfect for people who aren’t musical,” Pinkie replied. “You can just make a ting at the end of the song!”

“Hold on now, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Let’s not push Blake into anythin’ she doesn’t want to do. If you don’t want to join the band, then you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” Blake said. “I think I’ll just enjoy the music.”

“Oh, well,” Pinkie sighed. “Suit yourself, I guess.” She vaulted over the counter. “So, what does everyone want to drink? Penny, what’ll you have?”

Penny hesitated for a moment. “I … I don’t drink anything,” she said. “I’m a robot.”

Pinkie stared at her for a moment. “That,” she said, “is so cool!”

Rarity’s pinkie finger was held out at the perfect angle as she stirred some sugar into her tea.

“You know, darling, you never did get the chance to tell me where you got the dress,” she remarked.

Ciel was silent. In truth, when Rarity had asked the question before, when the party had just begun, she had been rather glad of Rainbow’s interruption sparing her the need to actually answer. As a matter of fact, her dress came from a very respectable and reputable label — it was by Suri Polomare, after all — but that was not the question that Rarity had asked. Indeed, it was entirely possible that Rarity had already identified the dress as a Polomare creation. The question Rarity had asked was where Ciel had gotten it, and the answer to that was…

Well, the truthful answer to that was Ciel had gotten it at a thrift store. It hadn’t been her size, but her mother had lifted up the hem and taken in the waist for her. If Ciel only brought dresses that fit her, she would have far fewer dresses than she did, and she didn’t have all that many.

Nevertheless, as lucky as Ciel had felt to come by such a dress in such a place, it wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to admit, certainly not to a lady of class and refinement like Rarity. Certainly not when they were just starting to get along.

She could already see it as plainly as if she had activated her semblance: the sniff of cold contempt, the ‘oh, I am sorry’ delivered in that patronising tone, the turn away, the cold shoulder.

And yet, the question having been asked again, how could she avoid answering it? She could lie, but Ciel Soleil had not been brought up to lie, and she had been told she was not very good at it in any case.

She opened her mouth, still unsure of what she was going to say, but was forestalled by Rarity’s hand reaching gently out to touch hers.

“Of course you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Rarity assured her, a smile illuminating her face. “Please, forgive me; it wasn’t my intention to embarrass you. I was curious, but it hardly matters. What really matters is that it suits you so very well.”

“Do you think so?” Ciel asked. She looked down at the gown. “I like it, but I almost think that it might suit you better; the darker blue would offset your complexion.”

Rarity chuckled. “That’s very sweet of you to say, but it’s my experience that complexion is rather overrated when it comes to choosing complementary colours, not least because so many designers forget to consider any but, well, my complexion. I’ve found that what matters are hair and eyes. Now, look at those two over there, Rainbow Dash and Applejack.”

She pointed to them both, directing Ciel’s attention to where they were arm-wrestling standing up. Rainbow was losing, despite the amount of effort writ large upon her face.

“Blondes, as you know, can wear absolutely anything,” Rarity went on. “And Rainbow, of course, has so many colours to choose from. Which makes it absolutely tragic that neither of them are interested in wearing anything at all.”

“Not quite anything at all, or we might be having a rather different conversation,” Ciel murmured.

Rarity laughed. “Oh, yes, indeed. But you take my meaning, don’t you?” She sipped some of her tea. “Anyway, my point is that that shade of blue goes perfectly with your eyes, and that sparkle … it adds just the right touch.”

Ciel smiled. “So, may I ask how Blake’s outfit complements her eyes?”

“Oh, in that case, it was her hair,” Rarity said. “The white offsets it, and the black complements it, although the occasional little touches of purple—”

“Contrast against the gold,” Ciel finished for her.

“Precisely,” Rarity said. She drank a little more of her tea. “Did no one ever tell you, darling, that I’m from Mantle myself?”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “How … you do not sound like it. I hear no Mantle in your voice.”

“Nor I in yours, darling,” Rarity pointed out. “And for much the same reasons, I would guess.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I am … not ashamed,” she said softly.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“But … but it is sometimes hard—”

“To be taken seriously here amongst the clouds with a voice full of soot and dirt,” Rarity finished. She smiled. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Much obliged,” Ciel murmured. “Do you still live in Mantle?”

“No, thank goodness,” Rarity declared. “I live quite literally in Atlas, in the lower levels dug into the rock.”

“I see,” Ciel said. “And … how is that?” She was curious to know, as it might well be where she would end up after graduation.

“It’s not ideal,” Rarity admitted. “But I get to come up to the surface, and when I do, I remember that I am in Atlas, the greatest city in Remnant. And one day … one day, I shall have a house on the surface, tall enough to look out and see the whole world at my feet.”

Ciel smiled. “I hope it comes true for you.”

“May it come true for all of us, darling,” Rarity replied.

The party was in full swing by now. Rarity was comparing notes with Ciel on fashion, Pinkie was encouraging Penny as she tried to hit a piñata, and Applejack and Fluttershy were telling Blake all about Canterlot — with some help from Spike.

Rainbow had just finished getting the run down from Maud about her geology studies, which sounded like they were going pretty well, when she sank down onto the green sofa sitting against the wall.

“You okay?” Twilight asked, sitting down on the arm of the sofa, a chocolate milkshake in her hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rainbow replied, leaning forwards to grab a coffee cake, out of which she took a bite. After she swallowed, she added. “I’ll be back on my feet in a minute.”

Twilight smiled. “Not like you to need a rest in the middle of a party.” She sipped some of her milkshake through the straw, making a gurgling sound in the process.

Rainbow took another bite out of her cake. “It’s a great party, don’t get me wrong—”

“But?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow hesitated. “I don’t want to talk about it here; it’s not the time or the place.”

“If something’s making you bring down the mood, then you may as well spit it out,” Twilight said.

“I’m not bringing down the mood,” Rainbow replied. “Am I?”

“Not yet,” Twilight admitted. “But you will if people start to notice you sitting here like this.”

“I’m eating,” Rainbow said, unfortunately finishing off her cake with that last bite.

Twilight sipped some more milkshake out through the straw. “What’s wrong, Rainbow?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “I might ask Pinkie for one of those,” she said, pointing at the milkshake.

“Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed a little. “You were right,” she said.

“Hmm?” Twilight asked. “About what?”

Rainbow looked at Penny, who was still trying and failing to hit the piñata. “Do you remember when we first arrived at Beacon? You asked me if we’d made a slave. I gave you the brush off then, but the truth is … you were right.”

“Was I?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think so? You thought so back then, but after the way that her father treated her when we brought her in, now you’ve changed your mind?”

“Doctor Polendina is…” Twilight hesitated for a moment. “He’s very sick.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Isn’t it?” Twilight asked. “He’s a dying man who wants to secure his legacy.”

“That makes him arrogant as well as mean,” Rainbow replied. “Lots of people get sick, and they don’t get to secure their legacies before they go. And they don’t get to make other people do what they want as part of their legacies, and on top of that, what about everything else he’s done? What about his whole career up until now? Isn’t that enough for him? He designed the AK-130.”

“Which is being phased out of service, and he wasn’t involved in work on the 200,” Twilight pointed out. “Doctor Polendina’s contributions are immense, that’s true, but they’re often largely invisible, unnoticed by the public. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I can’t entirely blame him for wanting to make a big splash before he dies.”

“Even at Penny’s expense?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight was silent for a moment. “What made you change your mind about this? What made you see things differently?”

“I was encouraged to look at things more closely, and not just accept the way things are,” Rainbow said. “The truth is that I didn’t have a good answer for you back then; I just didn’t want to think about it, so I said something that made me feel better.”

“You could have been right,” Twilight pointed out. “If Penny had wanted to serve, then it wouldn’t have mattered that she didn’t have a free choice in the matter.”

“Maybe,” Rainbow said. “But she doesn’t.”

Twilight looked down at her, eyes widening behind her spectacles. “Really?”

Rainbow shook her head slightly. “She wants to transfer to Beacon.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “I … does Ciel know?”

Rainbow licked her lips. “No. I haven’t told her, and I don’t think Penny has either.”

“One of you should tell her,” Twilight pointed out. “You know she’ll be…”

“Upset?”

“Heartbroken,” Twilight said.

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “You think it will be that bad?”

“You don’t?” Twilight asked. “Ciel cares. She doesn’t show it, but she does, a lot.”

“I know, but heartbroken is a little bit much, don’t you think?” Rainbow asked. “She’ll be sad to see Penny go, but heartbroken … Ciel’s smart enough to know that it’s nothing personal.”

“Being smart has nothing to do with feelings,” Twilight declared confidently, and Rainbow supposed that she’d be the one to know about that.

“She can transfer to Beacon as well if it means that much to her,” Rainbow said.

“You know that she won’t do that,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow murmured. She threw back her head, resting it on the back of the settee. “Twi, you’re my best friend, right?”

“Right.”

“Which means that I can whine self-pityingly to you and you're not going to judge me, right?”

Twilight giggled as she flopped down off the arm of the sofa and leaned against Rainbow Dash; her long hair, unbound, fell over Rainbow’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, this is a safe space. So spill it.”

Rainbow let out a sigh. “I did not ask for any of this,” she said. “I didn’t ask for secret wars or immortal people trying to take over the world or ethical…” — she searched for the word — “conundrums. Four years in the Academy in peace, to be the leader of a team that would be mine for those four years, a team that chose each other and trusted each other, and then to go out into the world and defend it against random grimm and scummy bandits. That’s all I wanted.”

“Aww, it’s tough being the General’s favourite, isn’t it?” Twilight said.

Rainbow chuckled as she glanced at Twilight. “What happened to this being a safe space?”

“Turns out it wasn’t that safe,” Twilight said, grinning up at her. She sat up. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done okay.”

“Really?”

“We’re all still here, aren’t we?” Twilight asked. “And Blake is here. The fact that this is a party not a wake is a sign that you got something right, wouldn’t you say?” She paused for a moment. “I noticed that when you talked about Penny’s transfer, it was as something that was going to happen.”

“What else should I have talked about it like?”

“Something that wasn’t going to happen?” Twilight suggested.

“It’ll happen,” Rainbow said. “It’s what she wants, so it’ll happen.”

“Yeah, it will,” Twilight declared. “Because she’s got you in her corner, sounds like.”

Rainbow looked at Twilight and felt her cheeks starting to heat up a little from the compliment. “Twilight—”

There was a bang as Penny finally hit the piñata, showering the floor in sweets that spilled out of the broken shell.

“Yes!” Pinkie cried. “You did it!”

Penny pulled off the blindfold. “That was very frustrating, but surprisingly fun.”

“You just described party games in a nutshell,” Pinkie told her, before turning to look at Rainbow and Twilight. “Come on, you two! No sitting around! This is a party, remember?! Up up up up up up!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” Rainbow said, getting to her feet. “Sorry, Pinkie. Are you having a good time, Penny?”

“I’m having a great time!” Penny cried. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow smiled. “Not a problem, Penny.”

“Are you having a great time?” Pinkie asked.

“Yeah, sure I am, Pinkie.”

“You don’t look like it,” Pinkie pointed out.

“I just needed to talk to Twilight for a second, about some business—”

“'Business,' really?”

“But that’s all done with now,” Rainbow assured her. “We’ve talked, it’s out of the way, and I can enjoy the rest of the night. And I will enjoy the rest of the night because … because you’re all here, and I love you guys.”

“Aww!”

“We love you too, Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy murmured.

Pinkie smiled. “You want anything to drink, Rainbow?”

“Uh, sure, I’ll have … what Twilight’s having,” Rainbow said.

“Coming right up!” Pinkie chirruped, but although she made her way to the counter, she showed no sign of actually getting Rainbow a chocolate milkshake, or anything else for that matter. She stood there, leaning against the counter, almost as if she’d forgotten why she went there in the first place.

Rainbow watched her for a moment, leaning on the counter, staring at the drinks machine but making no move to use it, and after she had watched for a moment, she walked across the floor of Sugarcube Corner to stand at Pinkie’s side.

“Pinkie?” Rainbow asked, reaching out to put a hand on Pinkie’s shoulder.

Pinkie started. “What? Oh, Rainbow, sorry. I’ll get your—”

“Don’t worry; I’m not impatient,” Rainbow said.

Pinkie looked at her.

“Not for this, anyway,” Rainbow clarified. “Are you okay?”

Pinkie smiled, although it seemed to Rainbow as if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “Come on, Pinkie, after all the work you put into this party, you ought to enjoy it. Since when do you not enjoy a party?”

Pinkie didn’t reply, at least not right away. She turned around and hopped up onto the counter, her booted legs dangling above the floor, kicking back and forth.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” she asked.

Rainbow turned around, in turn, although she didn’t sit up on the counter, just rested her elbows on it as she looked at the others having fun. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, it really is.”

“That’s good to hear,” Pinkie said quietly. “I just … I guess I can’t help feeling as if … we’re going to get to do this less and less, aren’t we? I mean, you and Twilight were at Beacon all year, and when you and Blake and Applejack graduate, you’re both going to be going away on missions or sent to Vale or Mistral or Vacuo, and Rarity wants to open up boutiques in all three kingdoms—”

“There are four kingdoms.”

“Yeah, but Rarity says only three of them count for fashion,” Pinkie replied. “And who knows where Twilight’s going to have to go for all of her science stuff?”

Rainbow sighed. “I get it, Pinkie, and … and you’re right. You’re absolutely right. We aren’t all going to be around so often, and we aren’t going to have time to hang out as much as we did when we were kids. But I don’t know … I don’t know if there’s anything that any of us can do about that, or that we should. It’s just … part of growing up, I guess.”

Pinkie was silent for a moment. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah, Pinkie?”

“Do you think there’ll ever be a time when we’re all so grown up that we won’t be friends any more?”

“No,” Rainbow said at once. “No, Pinkie, that’ll never happen. Maybe … maybe we’ll mostly talk on the scroll, or we can’t all make meetups so they have to go ahead with just a couple of people one time, and a few other people the next, but we’ll always be friends, and we’ll always stay friends, and we’ll always stay in touch, one way or the other. I promise.”

Pinkie grinned. “Just don’t forget me when you’re an Atlas bigshot, okay?”

Rainbow nodded. “I won’t ever forget you, Pinkie. Not even when I’m a hundred.” She reached out and grabbed Pinkie by the waist, picking her up and setting her down upon the floor. “Now come on, because if times like these are going to come around less often, then we might as well make the most of them, yeah? So come on, let’s dance.”

And so they danced, milkshake forgotten. They made fools of themselves, throwing their arms and legs around like idiots in front of those whom they felt safe to look like idiots in front of.

They danced, they sang, they laughed. Pinkie was right, that days like these wouldn’t hang around forever, that one day they’d find it harder to get together like this, that sometimes it might even be impossible.

It wasn’t something that they could change or avoid. It was just the way things were; Remnant wouldn’t stop moving just for them, and they couldn’t stop moving either.

But for now, they had each other, and it was all they needed.

Author's Note

This is the 200th chapter of the rewrite! As such, and because I've felt kind of tired the last couple of weeks and my writing output has diminished in consequence, updates will be taking a brief hiatus for two weeks. Sorry.

Moonlight Sonata (Rewritten)

Moonlight Sonata

Cinder smirked as she watched the airship descend slowly towards their position.

“Here she is,” she whispered. “Our secret weapon, the key to our triumph.”

“Who is she?” Lightning asked. “Or should I be asking ‘what is she?’”

“She’s a Siren,” said Emerald.

Lightning rolled her eyes. “So you’ve told me, so she’s told me; what neither of you have told me is what a Siren is.”

Emerald snorted. “Don’t you know anything?”

“Not about this,” Lightning admitted. She smirked at Emerald. “I’m starting to think that you don’t know either.”

“A Siren is a creature of magic,” Cinder replied. “A demon from another world, possessed of a voice that can cloud and corrupt the minds of men.”

“I’m getting creeped out already,” Lightning muttered.

“With her assistance,” Cinder declared, “we shall turn brother against brother, friend against friend … turn Vale and Atlas against each other.” Her smile widened. “If they thought that the Breach was bad, just wait until the whole of Vale becomes a battleground, and all because of our singing friend.”

“'Singing'?” Lightning asked.

“Indeed,” Cinder replied. “The magic of the Sirens is not like my power, or any other that exists in Remnant. It dwells in the voice, and her voice is how she — how they — compel obedience and spread discord.”

“Does anyone have any earplugs?” Lightning asked.

Emerald ignored her, asking, “Did you ever meet her? Do you know what she’s like?”

“No,” Cinder admitted, although only after a moment’s pause had passed. “All I know of them, I know from Mistress Salem: she and her sisters come from another world, a world where magic is commonplace and where there are no grimm to trouble the people.”

It had occurred to her that Sunset might have come from that same place: after all, she too possessed magic, albeit a magic which was not like any Remnant magic that Cinder was aware of. Sunset was not a Maiden, and yet she unmistakably — to Cinder’s trained eye — possessed magic. The light displays of which she was so fond, her teleportation … might she, too, come from this other world? After all, if this was a world awash with magic, then there might be room for many different types of the same, no?

What was Sunset in that other world, and why had she come to this one?

“A world without grimm?” Lightning asked. “Sounds idyllic. A world without grimm would be a world without suffering.”

“Don’t be naïve,” Cinder said. “I’m sure that whatever other creatures live in that world are perfectly capable of causing an awful lot of suffering by themselves, just as we humans do worse to one another than ever the grimm could dream of.”

“A world without the grimm in it would still be better by a longshot,” Lightning replied.

“Bite your tongue,” Cinder said, a touch of mockery entering into her voice. “You’ll hurt their feelings.”

She paused for a moment, before continuing on with her account. “In any event, the sirens were powerful in that world. They ruled over many with the power of their song; they raised up armies, inspired devotion with their voices, and then fed off the negative emotions that they caused through their actions. And for that crime, they were banished from their own world and into ours.”

Put like that, they sounded rather impressive. She would have to be on her guard against this one; she might well resent being forced into a subordinate role and seek to supplant Cinder at the head of this operation.

If she tries, I will pluck out her eyes and leave her to stumble around singing to a crowd she cannot see; nobody is going to take my place. I have worked too hard, suffered too much, endured too long to give way to anyone, no matter what power they possess.

“Feeding off negative emotions isn’t so lucky here in Remnant,” Lightning said. “I’m surprised they weren’t eaten by the grimm.”

“Maybe they were strong enough to best any grimm who were drawn to them?” Emerald suggested.

“Perhaps,” Cinder allowed. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is that they tried to set up their own kingdom here in Remnant, and they almost succeeded; as so often, the Immortal Man and his followers put a stop to their efforts; he seems constitutionally incapable of allowing anyone else a place in the sun. One might almost think he suffers from jealousy, that the moment he sees a source of power which he does not control, he must smash it, like a spoiled brat who would rather break a toy than let another girl play with it.”

Phoebe, she recalled, had been just the same. Even after she had grown too old for toys, the aversion to sharing them with Cinder had remained as strong as ever.

“The Sirens fled,” Cinder went on, “and Salem took them under her protection … and into her custody, lest their magic somehow become a threat to my mistress’ designs.”

“So you don’t know what she’s going to be like?” Emerald asked.

“No,” Cinder murmured, although she had a pretty good idea. She imagined somebody like herself, someone ambitious, someone who harboured an anger at the world that would not make a space for them, someone cold, who could be cruel when necessary, someone cunning and manipulative, someone … someone who would understand her. Someone she could work with. Someone who thought the same way that she did.

I might not even need you anymore, Sunset. I’ll have a new friend soon.

Someone who shares my aims and doesn’t pretend to prefer the company of Pyrrha Nikos over me.

The airship, Mistralian-looking in that absurd way that they had of looking antique even when they were very nearly cutting edge, set down before them, the propeller on its rear spinning for a little while to buffet the grass around them before coming to a halt.

There was a moment of pause before the central door slid open.

“For realsies? You mean we are here yet? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

A girl jumped out of the airship. She was young-looking — about fifteen, to judge by her appearance — with violet eyes and light blue hair, streaked with tones of a much darker blue, that was long enough to reach down past her waist; in fact, it fell down almost to her knees. She was dirty and dressed in rags that were torn and filthy and falling apart. In that respect, at least, she reminded Cinder of herself … but only of a part of herself that she had tried very hard to banish completely from memory and recognition.

Being confronted with it in the person of another was not something she enjoyed.

The girl who had leapt from the airship was oblivious to all of this, however, as she beamed excitedly at the world all around her.

“So this is it, huh? It doesn’t seem to have changed much; are you sure it’s been hundreds of years? It looks just the same. Oh, hey!” she cried as she noticed Cinder and her followers for the first time. “So you must be Team Evil, huh? It’s great to meet you!”

Cinder stared at her. This … she can’t be…

This is the otherworldly demon?

“It’s Team Clementine, actually,” Emerald insisted.

“Yeah, but you’re totally Team Evil, aren’t you?” the girl said. “This is so exciting; I can’t believe I’m about to debut for the first time as a solo artist!”

Cinder felt her eye start to twitch. “Please, tell me you’re not—”

“Ah, Cinder, how nice of you to roll out the red carpet for us,” Doctor Watts declared as he disembarked from the airship. The doctor was a tall, lean man, his dark hair turning to grey at the tips, and a moustache — thick, but well groomed — covering his upper lip from view; his teeth flashed every so often out from underneath the moustache. He was dressed in a grey suit, with only his mustard yellow shirt providing a splash of colour that made him visible in the darkness. “I’d say it’s been too long, but, well, that would be a lie.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” Cinder growled. She took a deep breath. “This child—”

“You wanted a Siren,” Doctor Watts said, in a tone that was altogether too smug for Cinder’s liking. “And before you ask: I have a 'no returns' policy.” He smirked at her. “It’s in the fine print.”

“I’m Sonata Dusk,” Sonata said. “Nice to meet you, and I can’t wait to get started. Can I put my necklace on now?”

“'Necklace'?” Cinder asked.

“It seems the powers of these creatures are not entirely innate to their biology,” Doctor Watts declared as he reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a black choker with a large ruby pendant dangling from it. “These jewels are in some way key to their magic, which is why Salem has separated the two and entrusted the gem to me for the duration of the journey.” He tossed it to her. “Otherwise, who knows where she might have ordered me to take her?”

“Thank you,” Sonata said cheerfully as she caught the necklace in one hand. She made to fasten it around her neck.

“Wait,” Cinder said, raising one hand as fire leapt to her fingertips, the scarlet flames dancing in eager anticipation. “You say that this necklace is the key to your power. So why do you need to wear it now, when you’re not going to use your power?”

Sonata stared blankly at her for a moment. “So I’m always ready when you need me?” She smiled innocently. “Why shouldn’t I put it on? Are you worried about something?”

I’m worried that you’ll use your siren song on me and not my enemies, Cinder thought. But how likely was that, really? Salem was still holding her two sisters hostage — she had been wise, after all, to only send Salem a single siren — and even if that were not the case, there was also the fact that this girl, this creature, was a demonstrable idiot.

“You must be Cinder, right?” Sonata said, her violet eyes shining guilelessly. “Lady Salem’s told me so much about you.”

“Has she?” Cinder asked flatly.

“You bet,” Sonata said. “She talks about you all the time, about how talented you are, about all her high hopes for you; I think you’re her favourite.”

She actually said that? Cinder had always hoped that that might turn out to be the case, that the woman whose respect and affection she desired more than any other might actually feel for her the esteem that she could never quite bring herself to show directly, and to have it confirmed … it was pleasing to hear, even if she could no more admit that than Salem could admit to the affection.

“Well, obviously,” Cinder said as she lowered her hand slightly.

The gem in Sonata’s hands glittered under the moonlight.

“You’re the strongest and the smartest of Salem’s servants,” she said, “so why would someone like you be so afraid of little ol’ me that you won’t let me put my necklace on?” She beamed.

Cinder snorted. It was true. She was worrying over nothing. There was no way that this perky airhead could possibly out-scheme her, Cinder Fall, the maiden who would overturn the world and cast down all its kingdoms. She lowered her hand completely. “Go ahead.”

“Trust me,” Sonata said. “There’s nowhere that I’d rather be than here.”

She fastened the necklace around her neck, and instantly, a little extra colour began to suffuse her face. She closed her eyes and threw back her head, her mouth opening as she sang a soft, lilting scale, her timbre rising and falling for a moment as she threw out her arms and twirled in place.

She sighed in something like relief. “That is so much better. You have no idea how much I’ve missed this! Okay! I’m ready to get out there and work some magic!” Her stomach growled so loudly that everyone heard it. “Although, could we maybe grab some dinner first? Because we were on that airship for a really long time and I’m starving. I feel as though I haven’t eaten in centuries.” A momentary trick of the light made her appearance almost sinister, but it passed as quickly as it had come. “Ooh, I like your outfits, by the way. Do I get a neat outfit now that I’m on the team?”

“Unfortunately,” Lightning said, in a voice laced with sarcasm, “what with being wanted fugitives and all, we aren’t exactly in much of a position to make shopping trips.”

“Which is going to make escorting Miss Dusk into Vale for her ‘concerts’ a little difficult as well,” Watts mused. “Why, it’s almost as if you didn’t think this through, isn’t it, Cinder?”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “At least I’m acting to serve our mistress. How are you helping our cause?”

Watts chuckled. “If you call failing aggressively and revealing yourself to the enemy thus being forced to improvise an entirely new plan on the fly 'helping,' then yes, I suppose you are helping. As for myself, I prefer to think carefully before I act; that way, when I act, I don’t trip over my own feet.”

It was only Cinder’s iron will and complete composure that prevented her from roasting him alive. “As a matter of fact, I have already come up with a solution to this issue; once we get through the Green Line — which we will, thanks to a cultist who is conveniently placed as an officer in the Valish defence forces — then Bon Bon will be responsible for escorting Sonata between our hideout and Vale proper. After all, who is going to question one of the heroes of the Breach?”

“Bon Bon,” Watts murmured, sounding rather annoyingly sceptical, considering that he was the one who had inflicted Bon Bon upon Cinder in the first place; Cinder sometimes if he’d done it in order to make her fail and lose face in front of Salem. “Well … we’ll see how that works out, I suppose.”

Cinder’s lip curled into a sneer. “When I lay the relic at Salem’s feet, I will accept your apology… if it is delivered with sufficient grace.”

Watts’ smile flashed beneath his moustache. “Oh, you’ll get an apology… if that day ever comes.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something more, some cutting retort that would dumbfound him with her wit and eloquence. But before she could speak, she felt something, an instinct born out of the grimm influence that Salem had granted her. She could feel something approaching.

“Doctor, you should return to your ship, but don’t take off until … well, I think you’ll know,” Cinder said. “Lightning, get ready to fight; Emerald, protect Sonata.”

“I don’t take orders from—” Watts began.

“They have found us!” Cinder snarled. She didn’t know how, but she could feel them in her bones. She could feel them approaching.

Shards of glass swirled around her, borne aloft by shifting air currents, rising with the heat, spinning around to form a bow of black glass in her hands. She nocked an arrow and stared into the darkness.

With her grimm eyes, she could see into the night, but she scarcely needed that ability because the airship was all lit up. It was an Atlesian Skyray, with a searchlight mounted underneath the nose, sweeping across the ground from left to right as the airship moved in the direction of Watts’ craft.

That was how they had found them, she was sure; they had detected the approach of Watts’ airship — she had hoped they wouldn’t be scanning out past the green line, but apparently, she had been mistaken in that — and they had sent a vessel of their own to investigate.

It was going to be their unlucky day, if so.

The searchlight beam had not turned upon Cinder’s group yet; Doctor Watts was frozen in place, half-crouched, waiting to bolt towards his own airship.

“Wait a moment, Doctor,” Cinder said, not bothering to hide the frisson of pleasure in her voice at her dependence on him. Doctor Watts was a very intelligent man — or at least, he believed himself to be so — but he was no warrior. Without her, he would be captured for sure. If he hoped to escape this, then he needed her to provide a distraction.

And, for the sake of Salem, she would provide such a thing. She thought that was rather big of her.

She doubted it would be appreciated, but she was used to being unthanked and unregarded by it.

Her time would come, in the end. It would make his ultimate inevitable apology all the sweeter.

Cinder raised her bow, took air, and loosed.

Her shaft struck the engine on the port side of the airship. The Skyray began to spin in an ungainly fashion through the air as that engine exploded in a flower of brilliant red.

“Now, Doctor!”

Harriet Bree fought with the controls as the Skyray started to spin. The cockpit resounded with the blaring of alarms.

“Port engine’s out!” she said.

‘What do you say we take a Skyray out for a quick recon, guys? We’ll get a lay of the land, get a better idea of the country than you can from a map. Then we can start plotting a real search tomorrow.’ I bet you wanted this, didn’t you, boss?

Clover Ebi’s semblance worked in mysterious ways sometimes; for a guy whose semblance was good fortune, things like this tended to happen an awful lot: quick recons or patrols turning into battles.

Admittedly, those battles had a habit of being against the people they’d been looking for in the first place, which she supposed was pretty lucky, but all the same, this was the third airship that had been totalled since she started with the Ace Ops, and it was starting to be a running gag with the flight crew on the Valiant.

Couldn’t their good luck be not getting shot down?

“Someone doesn’t want us near that airship,” Elm Ederne observed. “Looks like your instincts were right on, boss.”

That was the real reason why Clover was the leader of this team. People might think it was his semblance — and his semblance was damn useful; nobody would deny that — but while that might have earned him a spot on the squad, it wasn’t why he led the squad. It was his judgement that did that: Clover Ebi had a hunter’s instinct, a knowledge of what to do, of what ought to happen next that was unrivalled by any huntsman or huntress that Harriet had worked with before. He was … he was making Harriet sound like a lovestruck schoolgirl even in her own head.

Get it together, Bree, for crying out loud! You’re supposed to be a professional.

So why don’t you focus on professionally getting this airship under control?

Regardless, when they had picked up an unidentified airship on their scanners, it had been Clover’s idea to investigate; with anyone else aboard, it probably would have turned out to be smugglers or something, but Harriet doubted that smugglers would have had the balls to shoot at an Atlesian military airship like that.

No, this … knowing Clover’s luck, this was probably what they were looking for.

Clover chuckled. “Looks like it’s our lucky day, people.”

Every other member of the Ace Ops groaned theatrically as he said that.

“Harriet,” Clover said, “what’s the status on that other airship?”

Even while she fought with the stick, Harriet managed to check the scope. “It’s taking off, heading east.”

“Can you get a missile lock?”

Harriet’s eyebrows rose, but she bit back the obvious retort that that would require them to be pointing in one direction for long enough to aim at the target. “I can’t hold her; we’re going to have to ditch.” Again.

She looked up in time to see Clover flash that grin he had that was equal parts infuriatingly smug and infuriatingly charming in equal measure. “It can’t be helped. And when we bring in our target, then the loss of one airship is going to look like small potatoes.”

“You think they’re still there?” Elm asked. “The airship—”

“If Cinder was going to cut and run, she would have left already,” Clover explained. “I don’t know what was on that ship — reinforcements, equipment, dust — but I’m sure it wasn’t an evac transport.”

Clover turned away from her and walked into the main section of the airship. His six feet and three inches made him the second to smallest member of the Ace Ops — only Harriet was smaller at the positively pint-sized five foot seven — but he filled up the space nonetheless. His sleeves had been torn off, exposing arms corded with muscle, and more muscles were visible upon his neck. His jaw was as square as an anvil, and his eyes were— get it together, Bree!

“Okay, people!” Clover said, raising his voice. “You all know our objective: to bring in the fugitive Cinder Fall; we take her alive, if possible, but I don’t want anyone taking any unnecessary risks. If you coming home alive means that Cinder comes in dead, then that’s a trade I’m willing to make. We are going to be making a free descent, jumping by pairs: Elm and Vine, you first, then Harriet and Tortuga, then I’ll follow. And of course, it’s dark out there, so remember your night vision gear.”

“I hate this part,” Tortuga muttered from the seat next to Harriet.

“Ace Ops! Let’s get this done!” Clover shouted. “Harriet, open the doors!”

There were five of them. Five people leapt from the burning airship, all of them wearing some variant of an Atlesian uniform: a tall, muscular woman with a hammer as big as she was; a clean cut man who looked as if he had been designed by the marketing department of the Atlesian military so they could stick him on posters; a lean figure with a ghostly pallor; a slender woman with a head that was almost completely shaved, save for a V of hair sticking up above her forehead; a mountainous tortoise faunus with scaly skin and a wild black beard covering his face. Five of them, to bring her down.

Not today.

She loosed another arrow, the obsidian shaft flying through the air, almost invisible in the darkness; there was no way that they could—

The poster boy swung his fishing pole out, and the line extended outwards from it to snag Cinder’s arrow, which he flung aside with a flick of his wrist — and his pole. The glass dart flew off into the distance.

Cinder growled wordlessly; she began to move, sidestepping rapidly away; in the corner of her eye, she could just about see Watts’ airship making its escape. Good. Salem liked the man, for reasons Cinder could only guess at; she would not have cause to blame Cinder for his loss.

Cinder loosed more arrows, the black shafts flying from her bow like rain, her hands moving so rapidly, the eye could barely follow them. All that could be seen in the darkness was the smouldering glow of the hot glass as she fletched one arrow after another, each shaft loosed as soon as it was fashioned. Poster Boy caught one, and then another with his fishing line, casting them aside like puny mackerel, but others forced his group to scatter to avoid them as the obsidian darts buried themselves in the ground.

Where they began to heat up, orange ripples like the sea under a setting sun spreading out around them, the ground itself seeming to rumble as they grew hotter and hotter, before exploding in a sequence of red and gold blasts that concealed the Atlesian huntsmen — and all else besides — from view.

Including the source of the missile that burst out of the flames towards them.

Cinder leapt aside, as did Lightning Dust — albeit in a different direction. Emerald shoved Sonata Dusk — who had been standing stationary, either frozen or completely unfamiliar with what was being fired towards her — out of the way, but was caught in the blast herself, flung aside by the explosion and tossed heavily to the ground in a ragged heap.

As the explosions cleared, Bald Girl charged out of the flames, trailing lightning in her wake. She was wearing some kind of exoskeleton attached to her back and arms; that would doubtless give that fist she was cocking back additional punch if the blow landed.

Lightning Dust caught her before she could reach Cinder, colliding with her in a blur of crackling lightning bolts as the two went down in a heap, rolling across the grass. Electricity blazed across Lightning’s suit, the liquid dust bubbled in its tubes, and it wreathed her fists as she hammered down on her opponent.

Bald Girl cried out as the lightning scratched at her, clawed at her, tore at her aura like dogs tearing at the fox, but as the two of them rolled over one another, she gave as good as she got, throwing punches even as she received them.

“Elm, go help Harriet!” Poster boy commanded. The big woman, her rocket launcher transforming back into a hammer, obeyed his command, striking across the ground to where Lightning and this Harriet were locked in their brawl.

Cinder’s bow split into a pair of glistening scimitars in her hands as she strode forward, moving to intercept this Elm before she could reach Lightning. She was herself intercepted by an arm of pure aura, glowing pale yellow and as thick as the truck of a birch tree, that leapt from the lean and pallid man as he groped for her, swiped at her, forced Cinder to duck and dive away as he reached for her with first one and then another arm of aura anchored to his shoulders.

Cinder rolled beneath one arm, reforming her bow in her hands as she came up and loosed at him, forcing him to bring his arms back so that he had enough aura to protect himself.

It gave her the opening she needed. She rushed for him, bow forming blades.

The tortoise faunus got in her way. He drew a pistol from the bandoliers he wore across his chest and fired at her. The pistol cracked. Cinder blocked the bullet harmlessly. The pistol transformed into a cutlass as Cinder closed the distance with him.

Their blades clashed once, twice; Cinder spun on her toes, wielding both swords in a slashing stroke, driving him back.

Something wrapped around her neck, the cord of the fishing line from poster boy encircling her choker, tightening around her throat, pulling her down to the ground, down to the earth, into the dust that she threw up with her impact. She flopped like a fish, swords slipping from her hands as she clawed at the fishing cable that was growing tighter, always tighter around her neck, digging into her flesh, squeezing her aura as she was dragged—

Dragged out of her hiding place.

“Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

No! No, that was not her, that was not now, that was someone else, someone who was gone, she was not that helpless girl, that person had died a long time ago, died in the fire, died at Phoebe’s hands. She was Cinder, Cinder Fall, and if she could only get her hands on this cable, if she could use her semblance—

The hands of aura closed around her—

Phoebe’s hands closed around her.

Cinder squirmed in his grip.

Ashley squirmed in her grip.

She struggled, she writhed, but the aura that engulfed her was too strong.

Phoebe was too strong.

No, no, no, no, this wasn’t happening to her; she was Cinder Fall, Cinder Fall, she was this world’s nemesis—

She was a weak little girl who couldn’t protect herself.

Cinder’s breathing was ragged, coming in fits and starts, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. The breath left her as she was turned over, pressed down, pushed to the ground as they started to pin her arms behind her back.

Phoebe pinned her arms behind her back.

She could hear them laughing. The poster boy, the pallid man, the tortoise, they were all laughing at her, their laughter was high, almost girlish. They laughed at her with malice in their voices, with cruelty. They laughed as they held her down, had her at their mercy. Cinder squirmed, she wriggled, she writhed, but she could not escape from them, from any of them.

There was no escape.

Any moment now, they would start hurting her. Any moment now, they would tear her dress — the rags, they would tear the rags from … they would tear her … they would strip her and they would … no. No.

“Please,” Cinder mewled. “Please, no. Please, stop.”

Help me. Mother, Father, Sunset, someone, please help me.

Lightning crackled from where Lightning fought. She was lit up, electricity coursing from her body, leaping off her like hungry predators preying upon the herd, but none of it seemed to trouble the mountainous woman who held her fast, who kept her pinned while the smaller of the two, the bald-headed girl, pounded her with blow after blow of her strengthened fists.

Lightning’s head snapped sideways. The lightning began to dim.

Emerald lay on the ground, prone.

There was no one. No one was coming to help her.

No one ever came to help her.

“Let’s have some fun with her,” Poster Boy said - no it wasn’t him, it was Phoebe. No, it was both of them, two voices speaking over one another, two voices speaking the same words, filled with the same glee at her suffering.

No. No, I am … I am … I am nothing.

And then … and then Sonata started to sing.

There were no words, so perhaps it would have been better to say that she was harmonising — although that begged the question of just who or what she was harmonising with. Regardless, sound was coming out of her mouth, and so it was good enough for Cinder to say that she was singing.

And what sound! It was not aimed at Cinder, that was clear to her in her heart, and yet, nevertheless, it stirred something in her — the pride that they had tried to stamp out of her in the kitchen, here.

Sonata walked forward, and as she walked, she swayed, and the way that she swayed and moved her arms, there was … there was something inhuman about it, something almost like a creature of the seas, not one that walked on land.

Sonata walked into the midst of the Atlesian huntsmen, and as she sang, Cinder felt the grip upon her weakening. She scrambled upright, her bow reforming in her hands.

Sonata raised one hand to stay her, but kept on singing.

Lightning Dust had been released as well. Her amber eyes were wide, darting between their enemies and Sonata, her whole expression amazed as the Atlesians seemed not to notice what was going on.

It was as if Cinder and her cohort had ceased to exist for them.

Sickly green mist began to form around their feet like poison gas, spreading around Sonata, who moved as if she was unaware that it was happening; for that matter, the Atlesians barely seemed aware of it either.

And all the while, her song scratched at Cinder’s mind like a dog desperate for attention.

The gem around Sonata’s neck gleamed red as blood.

The big woman hefted her hammer and swatted the bald girl aside with a single blow.

And at that moment, as if a signal had been given, the Atlesians erupted into violence against each other, turning their weapons on their comrades and ignoring their enemies as though they had ceased to exist.

“We should probably get going before this wears off,” Sonata suggested.

“Of course,” Cinder agreed. She hesitated for a moment, before adding, “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Sonata declared cheerily. “And you know what? I’m not even hungry any more!”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The first part of this chapter - in which Cinder meets Sonata and immediately proves Sunset right when she pronounced that Cinder wasn't nearly as smart as she thought she was - is pretty much unchanged, save for the absence of poor, dead Mercury.

The additions all come after that, with a brief scene with the Ace Ops and then a fight. The moments are few and far between but the instances were Cinder is affected by her trauma are quite fun to write.

Clover's semblance is ridiculously OP; I'm sure he would have beaten Tyrian soundly if Qrow hadn't decided to get in the way.

Bon Bon's Rebellion (New)

Bon Bon’s Rebellion

Bon Bon knelt in front of Sky’s memorial.

It was a feeble thing, no These Are My Jewels for certain: just a portrait of Sky in a silver frame, propped up on the edge of the pool that surrounded the Huntsman and Huntress statue in the courtyard. The words In Loving Memory, Sky Lark had been etched on a little piece of brass that sat beside his picture. A couple of candles had burned beside the picture, but they had mostly melted down to wax by now; some bouquets of flowers — every first year team had laid one — had sat before the stone wall, but they had all wilted by now. It was all rather pathetic.

A bit like Team BLBL, if she was being honest with herself.

Bon Bon wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She hadn’t wanted this. Not this. She had wanted … it was hard for her, looking back, to remember just what she had wanted. What had brought her to this point.

Obedience had brought her to this point. Duty had brought her to this point. Doing as she was told despite her reservations had brought her to this point.

Envy had brought her to this point.

No one had ever thought that Bonnie Bonaventure was the stuff that greatness was made of. No one had ever marked her as someone likely to make a great impact on the world. She was fine. She was not perfect, but she was perfectly ordinary.

She should have been content with that. She should have been content to be ordinary, content to have what she had and grateful that she had it better than others. She should have been content with the fact that she was not Sunset Shimmer: alone, friendless, consumed with misery and anger and resentment. She should have been content with the fact that she had Lyra, that she was on occasional terms with the cool crowd that had gathered around Rainbow Dash and Twilight, should have been content to be one amongst many.

But what teenager is truly content to be one amongst many? Who does not dream of glory? Who does not yearn for recognition? Who doesn’t want to be called the Ace of Canterlot, to have eyes follow them down the corridor, to be the name on every tongue, to have all the guys drooling over you? Who doesn’t want to soar?

She had had a secret then, a secret that no one knew, not even Lyra. A secret … admirer, you might say. Someone who understood. Someone who listened. Someone who promised he could help.

When Bon Bon was young, when she was only a girl, when she went by the name of Sweetie Drops, she had been in … an explosion. Her parents had been huntsmen — at the time, she had known no more than that — and they had been killed in a bombing; retaliation for some mission they had completed.

The White Fang had condemned the bombing, of course; this had been years before Sienna Khan took over, but there had been rogues then, lone wolves, isolated incidents. The White Fang had condemned them all, growing less and less sincere each time the old familiar clichés fell from the lips of Ghira Belladonna, until finally he had gotten out of the way so that Sienna Khan could say what those animals had no doubt been thinking for years: we want you dead.

They had killed her parents and left her … well, she had needed a little putting back together. Fortunately, her mother had had a fair amount of lien squirrelled away, and one of the very best doctors in Atlas had been found to care for her in her hour of need.

His name was Arthur Watts.

He had made her better, seemingly in every sense of the word. And after he was done, after she was released into the foster system, they had kept in touch. He was the one constant figure in her life, in a world where homes came and went, where families never lasted more than a couple of months, where people tried on children like they might try on gloves or shoes at the store, Arthur Watts had always been there. And not only because she had to keep going back to have her augmentations modified to take account of her growth, but just because he liked her. He was interested in her; he listened to what she had to say.

He talked to her like a grown-up, even when she was not. It was Arthur Watts who, using his clearance from his work as a government scientist, revealed to her that her parents had not just been huntsmen, but part of a top-secret organisation called Division, dedicated to working in the shadows to protect the world from danger, by any means necessary.

When he told her that Division was being shut down on General Ironwood’s orders, Doctor Watts had been furious; he had raged against Ironwood’s short-sightedness, his petty morality, his refusal to acknowledge that not all battles were fought in the open with swords, but some with dirty knives in back alleys. Bon Bon had agreed, at the time; it had seemed like a betrayal of everything her parents had fought for. Everything that they had died for.

It had not been long after that when Doctor Watts had asked if she would help him. He was starting a new organisation, one that would require him to disappear, to be thought dead, but he wanted to stay in touch with Sweetie Drops. He wanted her to join him, to help him, to do the necessary work that others flinched from.

How could she refuse? How could she refuse Doctor Arthur Watts, charming, intelligent, cultured, refined, interested in her? How could she refuse the only person who had given a damn about her since her parents died? How could she refuse the shoulder that she had cried on, her solace and confessor, the saviour of her life?

How could she refuse?

She had not refused.

She had thought herself so lucky then. So blessed, so fortunate, so chosen. Doctor Watts’ conditions had been a little odd, but not arduous: she had to change her name, which she had done with a light heart because her old name meant little and less to her by this point. Sweetie Drops, the name of an orphan, passed between foster families who had never wanted her. Becoming Bonnie Bonaventure had been the easiest thing in the world. What better way to start a new life than to become someone else?

The other condition had been to hold back, and Bon Bon had at first assured Doctor Watts that she was doing just that, but the truth was … the truth was that even if she had exerted herself to her fullest, even if she had run as fast as she could, even if she had hit as hard as she could, then she still wouldn’t have been as fast or as strong as Rainbow Dash, still wouldn’t have been as smart as Twilight. She could have proven herself to be stronger than Lyra or Sunset — Sunset when she had been holding back in her turn, at least — but instead, she had kept herself at about Lyra’s level.

She had been perfectly ordinary.

And she had hated it.

She had wanted to be more. She had wanted to shine, she had wanted to fly above the rest, and if she could not do that, she had at least wanted to know that she could have.

She had wanted to wipe that smile off Rainbow Dash’s face, or at least to know that she could have.

Well, some of the time anyway. Rainbow was a faunus, but the White Fang had attacked her and the others. But she was a faunus, and she smiled too much and laughed too loud, and everyone thought she was wonderful.

Except Lyra. Lyra thought Bon Bon was wonderful. Just as she was. Just as she was pretending to be. Lyra thought Bon Bon was wonderful, even though she was perfectly ordinary.

That ought to have been enough for her. That ought to have been enough to say ‘no thank you, Doctor, I’m very grateful, but I don’t want to do this any more.’ Enough to leave it to him, to others who were older, wiser, more professional.

Really, the fact that he wanted to recruit a kid for his venture probably should have been a clue.

At the time, it had felt amazing, proof that she was more than others saw in her, proof that she was truly talented, even if her talents were hidden. At the time, it had puffed up her ego ever so much.

The arrogance and the folly of youth.

And he had spun such wonders before her eyes: the world transformed, the fools who claimed to lead cast down, and in their place, men of wisdom and true vision, men who knew what had to be done.

Men who recognised talent when they saw it.

And he had been so indulgent, even listening patiently while she poured out her frustrations to him: how Rainbow Dash was so fast and so strong and it was so unfair.

And he had promised to make her better.

He had made her better, though they had to meet in secret on the outskirts of Crystal City; nevertheless, by the time he was done, by the time he sewed her up again, he had promised that she would be better.

And she believed him, despite how much it hurt.

It was at that point, while the painkillers were wearing off, that he had told her that he had her first mission for her. A task not for Atlas, no, it was far greater than that; he was serving a much greater cause, a much grander one. What he was doing, what they would do together, would reshape all of Remnant. A time of great change was at hand, when the foundations of the world would shift and everything would be made anew. Would she help him in this hour? Would she bring about this realignment? Would she help to shepherd in a new age?

And she, foolish, arrogant, blinded by pride and by devotion, had agreed. Of course she would help, she would give herself to him, she would do anything that he asked. She was at his service.

So had she pledged herself to Doctor Watts. And Arthur Watts, who had always been there, the pillar of her existence, her friend, her counsellor, had given her over to Cinder Fall.

That ought to have told her something was wrong.

Cinder had been … something else. Far removed from the intelligent, educated Doctor Watts. Cinder certainly acted as though she was those things, but Bon Bon wasn’t convinced; as far as she was concerned, Cinder was just a thug.

A thug with big, frightening ideas.

Ideas which Doctor Watts had told her it was her duty to support.

That ought to have been another clue that something was wrong. Being placed under the command of a hoodlum with pretensions and a thin veneer of cultivation might have been irksome, but acceptable; but to be ordered to play some small part in the downfall of a kingdom … that ought to have told her that she had not signed up for what she thought she had been signing up for.

A small part. A small part. A small part, that was not what she had signed up for either. Doctor Watts had flattered her, cultivated her, promised her recognition when the dust had settled; he had promised her that all of the secrecy, all of the holding back, all of the playing the fool, all the being perfectly ordinary, it was all leading up to something grand and glorious, and once their great work was completed, well, then … then things would be different.

But she had only been relegated to a small part. A part that was nonexistent most of the time. It was not what she had expected.

But it seemed that it was all she was fit for, and Bon Bon had to look at her performance and concede that, most of the time, she didn’t even manage that. All of Doctor Watts’ promises had been lies, it seemed … but the greatest lie was that she had potential.

Bon Bon looked down at her hands, closing them into fists one by one. Perhaps … perhaps she wasn’t even holding back at all? Perhaps this really was her level? Perhaps … no. No, she could not believe that. She could not allow herself to believe that. She might not be smart, she might not have received any enhancements to her brain, but if she went all out, then she’d show that damn cat and pony show a thing or two.

Perhaps she ought to do just that. Get it over with. Go for them as soon as they got back from Atlas — from Atlas! Rainbow Dash parading her White Fang pet around the city, it was obscene! — one last fight, and then she would join Sky.

Then she could tell him how sorry she was.

This was all her fault. All of it. She should have called it quits long ago. She should have refused to go along with it once Cinder explained her endgame. She should have refused to go along with it once she understood that the White Fang were involved. She should have refused to go along with it once Cinder was rumbled at the dance. So many places where she could and should have stopped, have turned away.

If she had, even if she had refused to lead her team into the Breach, then she would have saved Sky. He’d still be here.

If only she could have been content.

It was no bad life, being Bonnie Bonaventure. In fact, since Blake had left, it was … it was rather like a dream. The dream of a villain who thought she was a hero, the dream of a perfectly ordinary girl who thought she was more than that, the dream of a victim who thought she was perfectly ordinary.

Whoever’s dream it was, it was a dream all the same. She had been team leader, one of the chosen, and yes, she hadn’t been Professor Ozpin’s first choice, but he had chosen her nevertheless. Chosen her in ways that it might be said that Doctor Watts had not. Real trust had been reposed in her in ways that Doctor Watts and Cinder Fall had not bothered to do.

And she had had Lyra, sweet Lyra, kind Lyra, constant Lyra, Lyra who had had her back from the moment she met her, Lyra who was annoying in a way that you could never stay mad at for longer than about ten seconds, Lyra who had no secrets, Lyra with nothing to hide, Lyra the songstress, Lyra her friend. Lyra who, like her, knew the pain of being overlooked, your inner worth denied, and yet bore it with a patient shrug and no resentment.

And Dove had joined them too. Stuffy, prosy, sad, and melancholy Dove with his broken heart that was nevertheless so full of valour. Dove who was the best of them in many ways — the best in combat class, certainly, the hardest worker in class even if he didn’t get the best grades. The one who, out of all of them, came closest to what they called a true huntsman. A chevalier who, although he could hardly be called sans pareil at Beacon Academy, was nonetheless sans peur et sans reproche.

And Sky, who had been content to stand in the background, waiting without a trace of anger or upset or envy. Sky, who had been smarter than all the rest of them but had never vaunted the fact. Sky, who had never bemoaned anything except the fact that he couldn’t get a girlfriend — Lyra had thought, and Bon Bon had been inclined to agree, that if he had lowered his standards a little below ‘at least as hot as Pyrrha Nikos, if not more,’ he might have had more luck.

Sky, with his drawings, and his headphones on.

Sky, who was dead, because of her.

Because she had led him to the Breach.

Because she had followed Cinder’s orders.

Bon Bon looked down at her hands and imagined what it would be like to have Cinder’s neck in between them.

“Bon Bon?” Lyra asked, her voice soft and gentle. “Bon Bon?”

Bon Bon did not reply. She just knelt there, in front of Sky’s memorial, her gaze once more upon his portrait.

He would never age now. He would not grow old, as they who were left grew old. He would stay that way forever, sharp of face, sharp of eye, with that hair that could maybe have done with cutting.

Preserved in … not in his glory, for he had never had that, but … preserved nonetheless.

I’m sorry, Sky. I’m so sorry.

“Bonnie,” Lyra said, more insistently now, complete with a hand upon Bon Bon’s shoulder.

Bon Bon shrugged it off. “Leave me be,” she muttered. “I’m not through yet.”

Lyra was silent for a moment. “Dove and I … we were going to go into Vale. We were going to get some fresh flowers for Sky, amongst other things. Do you want to come with us?”

“You go,” Bon Bon replied. “That sounds like a really nice idea; I’m sure … I’m sure that Sky would appreciate it, and so do I, but…” She looked up, into Lyra’s anxious, concerned face. “You go. I’m going to stay here a little longer.”

“I’m not sure that you should,” Lyra said softly. “It’s not…” She trailed off.

Bon Bon looked away, choosing to look at Sky instead of Lyra. “It isn’t what?” she asked.

“He wouldn’t want you to be like this,” Lyra said. “Sky, I mean, he wouldn’t want you to just—”

“Sky’s dead!” Bon Bon snapped. “Sky’s dead; it doesn’t matter what he would or wouldn’t have wanted, he’s dead!”

“But you’re not,” Dove insisted, stepping up until he stood by Lyra’s side. “Yes, Sky is gone, and that is a tragedy. His is a loss that will never be replaced.”

Bon Bon snorted. “Don’t be so sure. They’ll slot someone else in next year, some underachieving third-year who has to retake their second year, some unlucky guy who survived when the rest of his team got wiped out on some field assignment—”

“We won’t let that happen,” Dove said.

“Or maybe if Blake goes off to Atlas, then they’ll mix Bluebell and Iron up and—”

“I won’t let that happen!” Dove said, louder now, practically shouted. He took a deep breath.

“I won’t let that happen,” he repeated, quieter, his voice returning to a more reasonable tone. “I know that I’m only here because of a switch just like that, but … but that can only happen if we allow it to, and I, for one, am not minded to let it. It’s true that we’re a man down … it might even be fair to say that, of all the teams in our year who could be a man down, we’re one of those the least able to deal with it, but nevertheless … I know that I wasn’t here for the beginning of this team, but ever since I met you, even before I was a Bluebell, you girls have been … you’ve been so kind to me. When I arrived…” He paused. “What are you going to do, Bon Bon?”

“What do you mean?” Bon Bon asked.

“I mean, if Lyra and I go off into Vale, are you just going to stay there, staring at that picture?” Dove asked. “Staring until you’ve memorised every feature, every line on his face, every lock of hair?”

“What if I do?”

“What good is it going to do?” Dove demanded.

“What does it matter?”

“It matters that you’re alive!” Lyra cried. “It matters that you’re alive, and we need you! I need you.”

Bon Bon closed her eyes. A sigh passed between her lips. “You are a good friend, Lyra Heartstrings, and it breaks my heart to let you down, but … you don’t need me. You need something I can’t give you. Please. Go. Leave me to my sorrows and to Sky.”

“As you left me to mine and Amber?” Dove asked. He knelt down beside her. “Have you forgotten that you are not the only one whose heart is touched by grief?”

She looked at him. He left her little choice. His rebuke had stung her a little bit. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he said. “I don’t suggest you did, but … I did not come to Beacon for the right reasons.”

Neither did I. Only Sky and Lyra did that. “You have the heart of a huntsman, Dove, you should have no fear of that; of all the people I know, you have the truest motives for your presence here.”

Dove shook his head. “I came … I came to fight, I came to help, I came because I thought it would be romantic, I came because it was a noble calling, I came because I’d read the Song of Olivia too often, I came for reasons which you might call good and which Professor Ozpin might approve, but most of all … most of all, I came to meet a girl under the clock. I came because I loved her, and one day, she rode away. I came because she promised she would wait for me, and I promised to follow. I came because I thought to find her here.

“I dreamed of it. I dreamed of her. In the days leading up to coming here, I dreamed of nothing else. I went to bed, and I was here, with her. I dreamed of when we’d meet again, what that would be like, how it would go: racing towards one another across the courtyard; or maybe looking all around to feel a tap on my shoulder, I’d turn around, and there she’d be; her waiting when I stepped off the airship.” He started to blink rapidly, as if his eyes were being stung. “Stupid, romantic fantasies, I know. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No,” Lyra murmured. “No, it isn’t, not at all.”

Dove ignored her. “Except, of course, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t anywhere I could find her, and by now … she must be dead. I can’t believe that she’d just go away without a word, without a message, with no clue as to how I could catch up with her. You might say that that’s me having too high an opinion of myself, that what I thought we had was never real, but it was, it was real. It was real, and she … she is gone. Maybe she left intending to return soon, or at least before I arrived but … but she never did.

“Anyway, the point is… the point is that there were times when I wanted to give up, to just sit on my bed and look at her picture until it was burned into my brain — as though it was not already. But I didn’t. I didn’t because … because you helped me. You and Lyra, you … you were there when I needed someone. You reached out to me when I was falling, you helped me see that we have to keep going! That we owe it to them, but … but even more than that, we owe it to ourselves.”

“To do what?” Bon Bon asked.

“Put one foot in front of the other,” Dove declared. “One step at a time, one day at a time, until it gets better.”

Bon Bon blinked. “And when does that happen?”

“I’ll let you know when it does,” Dove replied.

Bon Bon let out a dark laugh, but she did not dismiss his point out of hand. It was … not a bad point, even if it did not correspond much with her mood.

“Do you think,” she began, “do you think he’d forgive me?”

“Of course,” Lyra said. “Of course he would; that’s what I’ve been trying to say; Sky … of course he would.”

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment, and then climbed to her feet. Dove did likewise.

Bon Bon took a deep breath. “So,” she said. “Apart from flowers, where else in Vale were you going to go?”

Lyra and Dove looked at one another. A smile began to spread across Lyra’s face as she said, “Well, now that you’re here we can decide together.”

Bon Bon nodded, and even allowed herself a small smile. “Okay. I … I need to change out of this,” — she held up her gauntleted hands as a shorthand for the armour in which she was clad — “so why don’t I meet you two at the docking pad?”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “Are you actually going to meet us there, or are you going to slink off somewhere?”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “Ye of little faith, no, I am not going to slink off; I will meet you. Or do you want me to clank around Vale dressed like this?”

“Okay,” Dove said. “We’ll meet you there. Take as long as you need.”

“I won’t be that long,” Bon Bon promised, but nevertheless, she remained where she was, in front of the memorial, watching as Dove and Lyra headed off down the path out of the school towards the docking pads.

Only when they had moved a good distance did she look back at Sky.

“I hope they’re right,” she whispered. “I hope that you forgive me for not … for living when you … I’m sorry, Sky. I’m so sorry.”

She began to turn away, when her scroll went off.

Bon Bon frowned, but pulled it out and pulled it open regardless.

It was an unknown number.

She could only think of one person who would be calling her from an unknown number.

It was like being struck by lightning: first, the surprise that left her stunned and stationary, frozen in place … then the surging anger that ripped through her whole body. It tore through her like a monster hunting for prey, it growled and roared, moved through her, it burned her. It made her hands tremble so much that she could barely hit the button to answer the call.

Voice only. A part of her wanted to let Cinder see her face and know that she was serious, but another part of her was more concerned with anyone else seeing Cinder’s face on her scroll.

She answered, but she did not speak. She did not trust herself to speak. She half felt as though, if she tried to speak, only a wordless growl would emerge.

“Hello, Sweetie,” Cinder said, her tone infuriatingly light and genial. “I have a little job for you.”

A job. After what has happened, she thinks that … she has a job for me. She has a job for me?

“Hello?” Cinder cooed out of the scroll. “Yoohoo, Bon Bon?” She paused for a moment. “This is rather childish, don’t you think? Anyway, I need you to come to Portchester Manor, in between the Red and Green lines; you should be able to find it on a map, but I’ll send you the coordinates. Once you arrive I’ll brief—”

“No,” the word fell from Bon Bon’s lips with thudding finality.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said no!” Bon Bon snarled. “I’m not coming out to some manor house, I’m not meeting with you, I’m doing your job, I’m not doing anything for you, you damn murderer!”

“My my, how you storm,” Cinder drawled. “May I ask what has brought on this unusual burst of outraged defiance?”

“You … you told me to go to the Breach,” Bon Bon growled. “You told me to lead my team there.”

“And I imagine that, as a result of your heroism, you’re now on much better terms with those who once detested you, is that not so?”

“Sky’s dead!” Bon Bon shouted into the scroll, heedless of who might be listening. “Sky’s dead,” she repeated as a sob wracked her whole body, making her tremble inside her armour. “Sky’s dead,” she said, for the third time, as tears welled up in her eyes. “He died at the Breach. At the Breach where I sent him on your orders. You knew what was coming out of there, and you sent us there anyway. You sent him there. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as guilty as I am.”

“Who’s Sky?”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. Her hands shook so violently that she almost snapped her scroll in half. “I,” she growled, “am done with you. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

Again, there was a pause on the other end of the scroll. “You know where to find me,” Cinder said calmly. “If you show your face, I’ll face you myself, of course. We can settle this like warriors of old, like Pyrrha and Juturna. If you have the courage.”

Bon Bon’s reply was to hang up on her. She hung up, threw her scroll away, and as it bounced across the courtyard, she let out a scream of rage and frustration.

She would … she would go to Portchester Manor. She would go there and…

And die. And die by Cinder’s hands, like Sky.

At least she would—

We have to keep going. One foot at a time, one day at a time.

No, no, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t get herself killed in some futile fight. Even she recognised the limits of her skill; if she went up against Cinder alone … that wasn’t a fight that she could win. And she’d promised Lyra and Dove that she’d live on. She couldn’t break their hearts again. She couldn’t put them through that, so soon after losing Sky.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t.

She didn’t want to.

She hoped Sky would understand.

She could … she’d call the cops! She’d tell them where Cinder was, and they would—

Ask her how she knew that information.

Die if they confronted Cinder.

Either. Or. Both. Did she want that? Could she bear that? Could she stomach those lives upon her conscience? Those deaths upon her conscience?

No. No, one life, one death, it was enough for her. She could barely deal with Sky having died because of her; if she sent good men to their deaths trying to kill or capture Cinder, then…

She did not have the heart for it.

She did not, as Cinder said, have the courage for it.

She was not the hero who would slay this monster; she was not adequate for the task.

She was too ordinary.

And she couldn’t think of anyone who was extraordinary enough to manage it.

All she could do was stand in the courtyard and yell in frustration.

“Bon Bon?”

Bon Bon’s head snapped down. Sunset. Sunset Shimmer stood in front of her, looking at her with concern in those stupid eyes, with her mouth open and one hand which she always covered in those stupid dorky gloves reaching out towards her.

Sunset. Sunset was there. Sunset Shimmer. Bright Sunset, talented Sunset, special Sunset, extraordinary Sunset, the coolest girl in school Sunset, wasn’t it amazing what she could do Sunset, leader of the most talented freshman team by a mile Sunset, weren’t they going to win the Vytal Festival Sunset, picked for extraordinary missions Sunset.

Favoured Sunset, blessed Sunset, chosen Sunset.

Sunset who had failed. Sunset who had come crawling out of that tunnel with a grimm horde on her heels.

Sunset who should have stopped it.

Sunset who should have saved Sky.

Bon Bon yelled again, and this time, as she yelled, she charged at Sunset, slamming into her, bearing her to the ground with a slamming thud as she hit the stone with Bon Bon’s armoured form on top of her.

Bon was still screaming as she punched Sunset in the face. Sunset’s head snapped sideways from the force of the blow, even as her aura absorbed it nevertheless.

“Why?” Bon Bon yelled as she hit Sunset again. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

She hit Sunset a third time, and this time, blood erupted out of Sunset’s mouth, along with what looked like a tooth.

Bon Bon gasped. Her aura, had Bon Bon broken Sunset’s aura? No, there had been no sign of it, no ripple of green across her body. Had Sunset… had Sunset lowered her own aura?

Had she left herself defenceless? Did she think so little of Bon Bon that she didn’t even think she needed aura?

No. No, that wasn’t it. That could not be it; it made no sense.

Then why?

“Why?” Bon Bon asked, her voice dropping. “Why?”

Sunset closed her eyes. “Because I deserve it,” she said, a groan of pain entering a voice that sounded tired and weary. “Go on, keep it up. Another good one, and you might break my jaw.”

Bon Bon’s fist was raised, poised to strike. It trembled, but it did not descend. She did not strike again. She … was frozen. The air was thick around her hand and held it trapped as though in treacle. Or perhaps a better angel of her nature had descended and held fast her arm and would not let go.

Either way, she could not strike. Her will to strike was ebbing out of her like water through a leaky bucket.

Sunset opened her eyes. Her eyes which were filled with tears, as best Bon Bon could see through the water which was welling up in her own.

“Please,” Sunset said. “Please.”

“You…” Bon Bon murmured. “You want—”

“I deserve this,” Sunset said. “And you deserve your anger.”

Being told that she deserved it caused Bon Bon’s anger to drain out of her. Her hand fell, hitting the side of her cuirass with a rattling clatter. She bowed her head, and the tears fell to land on Sunset’s purple t-shirt.

“I hate you,” Bon Bon whispered.

“I know,” Sunset said.

Bon Bon scowled, she grimaced, she bared her teeth. “Why?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you stop it from happening?”

“Because I was … a coward,” Sunset whispered.

Bon Bon stared at her. She stared down at Sunset with hatred in her eyes. A coward? She was a coward? It prompted bitter laughter from her lips: Sunset Shimmer, the blessed, the chosen, the elite, the girl with all the gifts, a coward. Sunset the beloved, Sunset in the spotlight, Sunset the coward. Strutting, smirking, proud Sunset, a coward.

Why was she alive when Sky was dead?

Her hand twitched. A part of her yearned to close it around Sunset’s neck and squeeze the life out of her.

It hardly seemed as if Sunset would resist.

But then … well, she could hardly expect to get away with it, could she?

Maybe she was a coward too. Maybe it was a coward to hide behind it, but … if Sky wanted her to live her life, then he’d hardly want her to do it in a cell.

One step at a time. One day at a time.

Starting with stepping away. Lyra and Dove are waiting for me.

Bon Bon rose heavily to her feet. She stared down at Sunset, her breathing heavy; Sunset, for her part, did not look at her.

Bon Bon stepped over her without another word and walked away.

One step at a time.

Breakdown (New)

Breakdown

Sunset’s jaw ached. It was all she could do not to keep her tongue feeling at the gap between her teeth where Bon Bon had knocked one of her molars out. It only made the pain worse every time she got near it.

Not that it didn’t hurt plenty all the other times, mind you. It hurt continuously, as did the jaw itself. They both hurt, and what was more, they both seemed to take a glee in hurting alternately; one would throb and then the other, with the outcome that she did not get a moment’s peace between the two of them. Just pain. Unceasing pain.

So, kind of what she was feeling emotionally then.

Still, she couldn’t say that she didn’t deserve it. She really couldn’t say she didn’t deserve it. What Bon Bon had done … it was the least that she was owed, for what she’d done to Sky.

For what she’d done to Sky… well, if Bon Bon had kept going until Sunset’s head was a paste on the ground, then no one in their right mind would blame her.

Not if they knew the truth, anyway.

Sky had belonged to Bon Bon, just as Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune belonged to Sunset; if Sunset had any right at all to do what she had done, then Bon Bon surely had a right to murder Sunset with her own two hands. That was … just. That would have made things square. It would have been in the spirit of heroism. It was something that would have made the princes of The Mistraliad nod in appreciation.

Albeit, it would have made Princess Celestia blench in horror to hear Sunset say anything thus. Ponies didn’t think like that.

Ponies didn’t do things like Sunset had done.

Except that they do, of course, don’t they, Princess Twilight? They’re just lucky enough to get away with it all working out.

Sunset closed her eyes and swayed in place until she was leaning against the wall of the corridor. Somehow, her legs didn’t quite feel like supporting her at the moment.

They would have to start soon; she couldn’t stay here like this all day.

She had… well, she didn’t have anything to do right now, but she might. That was why it was, on balance, quite a good thing that Bon Bon hadn’t killed her; she might be needed to—

—to die at Councillor Emerald’s command if he came up with an assignment for her.

How am I going to explain that?

It was too much to hope that she would be able to get away with not explaining it. Unless the missions she was given all took place in downtown Vale — unlikely, to say the least — then her friends would notice that she was disappearing.

They aren’t the only ones. I wonder what Professor Ozpin will say?

He’ll say ‘good riddance’ and be as glad to see me in the ground as Councillor Emerald. He’ll find Pyrrha a more pliable team leader, no doubt.

The thought put a frown on her face. She had not … or perhaps it was better to say that she had avoided thinking about it that way, but…

She had promised Yang she wouldn’t run. She had promised Yang that she would be better than that, better than Yang’s mother.

She had promised herself that she wouldn’t run, not again; she would stick this out, for good or ill, she would stick by her friends, she would be there when they needed her, she wouldn’t run.

But what had she agreed to do but run from pillar to post at Councillor Emerald’s command?

I’m doing this to atone for my sins.

I’m doing this to make myself feel better.

I’m doing this because it’s what I deserve.

I’m doing this because it’s what I…

If she did not come back, as Councillor Emerald intended, then … well, it might be said that she had not technically run away; it might be said that she had died doing something noble, but how many times had Sunset argued with Ruby about that? Just because you died doing something noble didn’t make you any less dead, or those left behind any less bereft. Just because her intentions might have more in common with Summer Rose than Raven didn’t make much difference to the outcome.

More importantly, they would not only be bereft but weakened. If it had only been the first, then … well, it would have been rather self-pitying to go on about how sad people would be if she were dead when Bon Bon had just shown her how sad she was that Sky was dead thanks to Sunset’s actions.

Miranda had been pretty broken up as well.

Sunset flinched, and as she began to walk forward once again, she ran one hand through her fiery hair. That was … her thoughts were a whirling whirligig right now; they came and went without order or design. Her head felt as light as a feather, and not just because she’d just been knocked around.

Where … oh, yes, the team weakened. She’d promised that she wouldn’t run because she wanted to protect them, but who would protect them if she died? Pyrrha would protect Ruby and Jaune, or do her best to do so, but who would protect Pyrrha? It wasn’t even as though they could get Blake to make up the numbers, since it seemed more and more likely that she would choose Atlas in the end.

Yang. Yang can be the leader of my team — call it Team … Team … Team YARN. Yes, Yang can be the leader for Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby; Nora can fill Sky’s spot on Team … whatever, and Ren … well, who cares about Ren, anyway?

No, no, that was … that was kind of mad. Nora cared about Ren, for a start.

Still, it was a worry. She worried about what would happen to them without her.

Arrogance.

Maybe. Maybe the last arrogance which I am allowed.

Sunset flinched and winced at the pain in her mouth as she made her way back to the SAPR dorm room.

She used her scroll to open the door and stepped inside. Pyrrha was sitting in the window seat, the sunlight coming in from without gleaming off her gilded armour, her cuisses and the strip down the centre of her corset, the circlet on her brow. The teal drops hanging from the golden chairs that looped down from her circlet seemed to sparkle, and the sunshine illuminated her scarlet hair brilliantly.

The light shone down upon her and made it seem as though she gave light, as though the light would disappear and they would have day regardless.

Pyrrha had a book in her hands; it was resting gently upon her lap, casting the slightest hint of a shadow over her sash and cuisses, but as Sunset walked in, she was looking out of the window, with that slight melancholy in her expression that seemed to gather about her like a fine mist, nigh invisible but present nonetheless.

As Sunset shut the door, Pyrrha’s head turned towards her. Her green eyes widened in shock as a gasp escaped her lips.

“Sunset!” she cried. “What … what happened to your face?”

Sunset winced. “Is it that noticeable?”

“'Noticeable'?” Pyrrha repeated. “It looks terrible! What happened? What happened to your aura?”

Sunset rubbed her jaw with one hand. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Pyrrha set her book aside. “I see,” she said, her voice stiff and rather brittle-sounding. “Well, if you’d rather not talk about it, that is … rather irrelevant, considering that, as I see it, you have only two choices: you can tell me what happened, and I can help you cover up the worst of how it looks with some of my makeup, or you can explain to Ruby when she and Jaune get back. Which will it be?”

“That is…” Sunset trailed off. “Where are Jaune and Ruby anyway?”

“They’ve gone into Vale,” Pyrrha explained. “Jaune is going to cook dinner for us tonight. Something special to cheer us up. He and Ruby have gone to get everything.”

“They didn’t invite you to go with them?”

Pyrrha smiled slightly. “Jaune said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

Sunset smiled too, for all that it made her mouth hurt. “You know, I wasn’t too sure about him when you first told me how you felt, but he’s a real keeper, isn’t he?”

“I think so,” Pyrrha said. The smile died on her face, and her gaze sharpened. “I also think you’re trying to change the subject.”

Sunset groaned, and sounded probably more put out than she had intended as the pain mingled with her frustration in the midst of that same groan. “Bon Bon … Bon Bon was down by the memorial. Again.”

“And?” Pyrrha asked.

“And … she was upset,” Sunset said softly.

Pyrrha blinked. “She was … Bon Bon did this to you?”

Sunset let out a sigh. “Yes.”

Pyrrha got up from the window seat. “Excuse me,” she said as she walked towards the door.

“No!” Sunset said, her voice rising; she threw out her hands as she put herself between Pyrrha and the door. “You can’t just… do you really think that Bon Bon could beat me up if I didn’t allow it?”

Pyrrha stared down at her. “You … you lowered your own aura? Sunset, why in Remnant would you—?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters; of course it matters!” Pyrrha cried. “It matters because … because you’re my friend. Because you’re my best friend. Because I know that if I had come in here with a face like that, you wouldn’t just let it go because I asked you to. Because I know … I tried to talk to you about this—”

“I took what you said to heart.”

“Really?” Pyrrha demanded. “Did you really?”

Sunset frowned slightly. “Bon Bon has a right to her anger.”

“Does she?” Pyrrha asked. “Why? What have you … it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about Bon Bon; this is about you. And it’s about me and the fact that I’ve seen you falling to pieces, and I’ve ignored it, and it stops now. I’m so sorry, Sunset.”

“This isn’t your fault.”

“How many of the things you meddle in are your fault?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset snorted; it was less painful than chuckling. “So you admit that you’re meddling.”

“I’m being your friend,” Pyrrha insisted. “Sunset … what’s gotten into you? I know that the mission was tough, it was tough on all of us, but you… I don’t understand.”

“No,” Sunset said. “You don’t. And I don’t … I can’t explain it.”

“You haven’t tried.”

“No, I can’t explain it. I can’t tell you.”

Pyrrha shook her head, if only by degrees. “Sunset, you’re not making any sense.”

“I know,” Sunset admitted, “but you have to … you have to trust me, Pyrrha.”

“Trust you?” Pyrrha repeated incredulously. “Trust you while you let yourself get beaten on by Bon Bon, trust you while you shamble around Beacon like a ghost, trust you while your words are sad and solemn—”

“That’s not fair; your words are plenty sad and solemn themselves!” Sunset exclaimed.

“But yours are not, not like this,” Pyrrha declared. “Sunset … it’s like a part of you died under Mountain Glenn. You are not yourself. I could trust you. I could trust my friend, my team leader, but you… I’m not sure if that’s who you are anymore.”

“Pyrrha,” Sunset whispered. “I … I’m still me.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong?” Pyrrha asked, in a voice that was just as soft.

Sunset looked at her, at her eyes so green, her face so fair, her hair of so brilliant a colour. She could not say. She could not confess her darkness to the sun. She could not. She dared not.

Even if it cost her her friend — her best friend, as Pyrrha had said — to keep silent; still, it was better than losing a friend because Pyrrha had found out what she had done and what she was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and teleported away.

There was a crack and a flash of green light, and Sunset rematerialised upon the cliffs overlooking the Emerald Forest.

The green trees stretched out for miles below her, concealing the grimm that lurked within.

For miles below. Below. So very far below.

Sunset was hit with a sudden vertiginous feeling, a dizzy spell that made her head spin, that made her whole body wobble as she lost the ability to balance properly. She backed away from the cliffside hastily before she fell. What had she done? What had she just done?

She’d run away after swearing not to. She’d run away from Pyrrha. She’d run away; she’d lost Pyrrha.

What was she going to do now? Keep running? Hide? Wait until Jaune and Ruby got back, slink in, and hope that Pyrrha didn’t make a scene?

How was she supposed to fix this? How was she supposed to make this better?

You can’t, you can’t make any of this better, you’ve ruined everything!

Sunset doubled up as a sudden cramp assailed her stomach, biting her gut, gripping her so tight that she physically couldn’t stand upright without intense pain like when Adam had stabbed her. It was exactly like Adam stabbing her; it was coming from the same place, the pain shooting out from the scar on her stomach, because it wasn’t bad enough that her face and jaw were killing her apparently.

Sunset doubled up, clutching her belly with both harms.

Pyrrha was right; she was falling apart. Everything was falling apart. And she had no idea how she was supposed to fix it.

She didn’t even know if she could.

And then her scroll rang.

She honestly considered not answering it. It probably wasn’t important. Very little seemed important right now. But some vestige or veneer of courtesy made her pull the scroll out of her jacket pocket and open it up.

It was a number, not one of her contacts. A number that felt familiar to her in the back of her mind, but which she couldn’t place.

If it had simply been an unfamiliar number, then she would not have answered it, not as she was feeling now, but because she felt that it was not actually as unfamiliar as it seemed at first glance, Sunset pressed the green button to take the call, and even tried to straighten up despite the pain in her stomach.

“Hello,” she groaned. Her mouth still hurt too, and it hurt more when she talked.

“Hello, Sunset,” Cinder said. Her face appeared on the screen, and her smooth, lugubrious voice fairly oozed out of the scroll.

Sunset’s jaw worked silently, though not — alas! — free from pain. She scarcely knew how to respond. She was amazed and astonished at the effrontery of it, effrontery which seemed enormous to her for all that — no, no Cinder could not fail to be aware of it too; she knew what she’d done. She knew exactly what she’d done! And yet, here she was, calling her up with that ‘hello Sunset’!

“‘Hello Sunset’?” She repeated. “‘Hello Sunset’? What do you mean ‘Hello Sunset’?!”

“There’s no need to be like that, I’m sure,” Cinder muttered. “Are you feeling alright?”

Sunset growled wordlessly through her teeth. “What do you want?” she snarled.

“Well, I had nothing better to do,” Cinder answered, with a casual shrug. “So I thought I’d call you and see how you were getting on.”

“Oh, I see,” Sunset replied. “You had nothing else to do, so you thought that you’d just call me up? Just call me and see how I was doing? Of course you did. HOW DO YOU THINK I’M DOING, YOU—?” Sunset cut herself off before she said something undignified. “How … how dare you? How dare you? After what you’ve done—”

“What have I done?” Cinder asked calmly.

Sunset let out a little involuntary gasp. “What have … you know what you did!”

“I know what I have done,” Cinder acknowledged. “I don’t particularly see why it should vex you.”

“Six people are dead!” Sunset cried. “Six people are dead because of you.”

“You pressed that detonator,” Cinder pointed out. “Not me.”

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Yes,” she whispered, a whisper that was ragged and trembling, a whisper that was almost a sob. “Yes, I did. I did that, and now…”

Her breathing was as ragged as her voice. “Now, I…”

Perhaps she shouldn’t confess her weakness to Cinder, perhaps she shouldn’t confess her pain, perhaps she shouldn’t admit that she was crumbling, but why not? What harm was it going to do? If Cinder felt good about what she’d done, she would be about the only person who had gotten something out of this whole miserable debacle.

“I can’t sleep,” she said. “I can’t sleep for thinking about them. They haunt me by night, and by day, they press upon my shoulders, and I cannot … I cannot bear the weight.”

She opened her eyes to glare at Cinder. “Is this what you wanted? Is this why you did it? Was that what this was all about? You must have known that neither your grimm nor your White Fang could beat the Atlesians, so was it all just to make me feel this way?”

Cinder’s mouth was slightly open. Her amber eyes were a little wider than they had been before. “It was never my intent to hurt you, Sunset,” she declared.

Sunset laughed bitterly, despite the pain. “Didn’t you?” she asked. “Didn’t you?” she demanded, louder this time. “Then what was your ‘intent’ by it? You made me complicit in your crimes!”

“Oh, don’t be a scold, Sunset,” Cinder said. “Moralising is very tedious.”

“Six people are dead!”

“And?” Cinder asked. She smirked. “What were their names, that your heart so bleeds for them?”

“Sky Lark,” Sunset declared. “Pearl… Pearl… Pearl, Pearl, Pearl, Pearl…” Pearl, Miranda’s friend, what was her last name? Pearl who, Pearl what, what was her name? She was uncomfortably aware of Cinder’s smirk getting wider by the moment. “One was a waitress, one was a housewife, one was a carpenter, one was a clown, one was a butcher. Pearl was also a student, a literature student alongside Miranda, do you remember Miranda, Miranda Wells?”

Cinder’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “From the ice cream parlour, yes?”

“Yes, where we went, Jaune’s friend,” Sunset said. “She almost died herself, she was terrified, do you not care about that?”

Cinder was silent. “Is she dead?”

“No, but—”

“Then what are you complaining about?” Cinder demanded.

“Because what we did, it … it was wrong!” Sunset insisted.

“Why?” Cinder pressed. “Let us leave aside my part in this, and concede — merely for the sake of argument — that it is, indeed, wrong, as tiresome as that word is, for me to seek to deal out death and destruction. That was not your motive. You acted only to protect those whom you call your friends. Why is it wrong, then, to put the lives of those who are dear to you above anonymous strangers? Why should you love the man you’ve never met as much as your nearest and dearest? I don’t like Pyrrha, as you well know, but tell me why it is wrong that you should esteem her life worth more than that of a housewife whose name you cannot even remember; not for old Mistralian blood, not for the crown your princess is without, not for her mother or her potential or anything else by which you might qualitatively judge a life on, we leave all that behind, let us be egalitarians for the sake of this argument, yet tell me: why is it wrong for you to esteem her life worth more than any life in Vale for no other reason than because you love her?”

Sunset blinked rapidly. She shook her head. She took a step back as though she could get away from Cinder that way. “Cinder, that … that’s terrible—”

“Then explain why it is so,” Cinder demanded. “Articulate it, if you can.”

Sunset licked her lips. She swallowed, and the act of swallowing felt sharp against her dry, parched-feeling throat. “I…”

“Is not the alternative cold, heartless?” Cinder asked. “If we are to throw around the word ‘wrong,’ then does it not feel wrong to turn aside from the counsel of the heart and reject all human feelings? If you care not for care, if you make judgements based on pure numbers and the needs of the many and all the other rot and nonsense, then how are you better than a robot making calculations? I ask again, why is it wrong to esteem those dearest to you dearer than the rest?”

“Because … because I am a huntress?” Sunset suggested. “Because I … because I have pledged my life and sacred honour—”

“'Pledged my life and sacred honour,'” Cinder repeated mockingly. “Oh, please. Pyrrha could make those words sound stirring. Ruby could imbue them with conviction in spite of that squeaky voice of hers; from you, it sounds like amateur dramatics; you’re speaking words, but you can’t make them sound believable because you don’t understand them.”

“Yet better people than I tell me it is so!” Sunset cried. She wiped at her eyes. “Ruby would have made a different choice.”

“Ruby’s heart is hard as frozen rock.”

“Yet it is a heart heroic nevertheless,” Sunset insisted, her voice trembling. “She would have … Ruby would have—”

“Condemned you to death without a second thought,” Cinder said.

Sunset winced. “If they found out what I had done, they’d hate me,” she whispered. “They’d call me monster.”

Cinder leaned forward, her face filling up more of the screen. “Then damn them,” she said. “They don’t deserve you, Sunset.”

Sunset shook her head more vigorously now. “You’re wrong.”

“Why waste your time on people who do not understand, will never be able to understand—”

“You’re wrong.”

“You belong with me; none of them will ever comprehend what is in your heart the way that I—”

“I said YOU’RE WRONG!” Sunset bellowed down into the scroll. Her whole body shook with a mixture of fright and rage and incredulity. Her ears were pressed down into her hair. Her tail quivered behind her. “You … you want me to come to you? To join with you, after what you’ve done? After what you’ve done to me. You … you made me this. You made me a monster. You...” Sunset’s face twisted into a snarl. “You made me you.”

Cinder’s eyes widened. She spoke softly. “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that.”

“No?” Sunset demanded. “And why not? I wish that I had never met you!”

“I know you don’t mean that either.”

“I was fine before I met you!” Sunset yelled. “I was doing great. I had great friends, I was respected, I was turning my life around, I was on my way! I was on my way to greatness! And you … you—”

“I saved your life!” Cinder snapped. “If I had wanted you dead, then you’d be a pile of bones under Mountain Glenn by now!”

“You spared my life but took my pride, my dreams, my honour,” Sunset shouted. “I am nothing now: threads and patches unravelling slowly, scratched bones shambling about. If you had killed me under Mountain Glenn, then at least I would have died as Sunset Shimmer, whose light shone brightly and most glorious until the end. Instead, I … your mercy spared my life, but stole my soul. And I will not forgive you for it.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. Even when she spoke again her voice was quiet, “That was not my intent.”

“I never,” Sunset snarled, “want to see you or speak to you again. I hate you!”

“Sunset, I—”

“Goodbye, Cinder,” Sunset, and hung up. The screen went black, the device went silent. There was no sound but the wind around her, blowing over the cliffs.

“Some might look with suspicion upon your receiving calls from an enemy,” Professor Ozpin observed casually. He chuckled. “Though perhaps not if they had heard you shouting.”

Sunset froze. Her tail went rigid. The scroll dropped from her trembling hand. Her ears pricked up straight.

She looked over her shoulder, her movements slow and sluggish, as if Professor Ozpin would only become real if she saw him and so she was putting off the act of seeing him because she did not want to conjure him into existence.

But he was there, and she did see him, with his Beacon mug in one hand and his stick in the other, the tip resting lightly upon the grass as he looked at her, his face calm and his expression inscrutable.

Sunset breathed in and out. “How much did you overhear, Professor?”

“Not a great deal,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Mainly the volume.”

Sunset turned to face him. “What … what are you doing out here?”

“Like you, I find the cliffs a very calming place to walk,” Professor Ozpin explained. “Outside of Initiation, they are somewhat lonely. A good place to get away from it all.” He raised his mug to his lips.

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl. He stood there, speaking so casually, drinking his hot chocolate or whatever was in there? He stood there, speaking to her, in such a manner after what he’d done? After what he’d done to Sunset, after what he’d done to her friends, after what he’d done to Ruby’s mother? How… how dare he?

Sunset’s hand glowed green as she raised it, seizing the mug in the emerald embrace of her telekinesis, ripping it out of Ozpin’s hand and throwing it over the cliff. The magic ceased to glow around it as it soared out over the Emerald Forest, beginning its final descent down to the forest floor below.

Professor Ozpin glanced down at his empty hand. “Fortunately for both of us, that was just an ordinary Beacon Academy mug,” he observed. “The kind that is available for a very modest price at the souvenir shop. And, as I have spares, even that slight expense will not be necessary.”

Sunset growled wordlessly and stretched out her hand towards his staff. Maybe he’d feel differently if she snapped that in two on her knee?

Professor Ozpin’s grip upon the stick tightened, and more importantly, he infused the cane with his aura. Her magic could get no purchase upon it; it was like trying to grip something that had been greased; her telekinesis slipped and slid but could not grab on.

“I’m sorry,” Professor Ozpin said gently. “That was a poor attempt at humour on my part. Evidently, it was not appropriate.”

“Why?” Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin did not reply immediately. “I was hoping to defuse the situation,” he said.

Sunset shook her head. “You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean. Why? That’s what everyone asks me: Councillor Aris, Councillor Emerald—”

“Yes, Councillor Emerald has posed me that particular question also.”

“Then what’s the answer?” Sunset demanded. “Why? Why us?”

Professor Ozpin did not meet her eyes. “Three of you are uniquely talented,” he murmured.

“Something can hardly be unique if it is shared between three,” Sunset replied reflexively.

Professor Ozpin chuckled softly. “Nevertheless, you are, collectively, a very talented group of students.”

“But still just students!” Sunset snarled. “Still students, still first year students! You couldn’t have borrowed some of General Ironwood’s forces? You don’t have any actual huntsmen that you could call on?”

“Without meaning to disparage the quality of an education at Beacon,” Professor Ozpin said, “the fact is that you and Miss Nikos are, in your own ways, as strong and skilled as many a graduated and qualified huntress.”

Sunset let out a bitter, incredulous laugh. “Without meaning to … then what’s the point? What are we even doing here? Why don’t you just make huntsman licenses the prize in the Initiation? We all have to make your way to a ruined temple, and at the end of the day, ‘congratulations! You’re a huntsman!’” She flung her arms up and out.

“As I told you, Miss Shimmer, this school does not exist to teach you how to fight, but how—”

“How to be a hero, I remember,” Sunset cut him off. “But it seems to me that you didn’t so much teach as just expect it, in the end.”

“Miss Shimmer—”

“We’re students, Professor!” Sunset cried. “We are first year students; we’re just kids!”

“You chose to be a part of this,” Professor Ozpin reminded her.

Sunset let out a sort of giggling sound, which probably sounded a little deranged. “You … is that what you mean to hide behind, Professor? That we chose this? That this was our choice, and so, it does not lie upon your head? Is that how you slough off the weight? Is that how you sleep at night?”

She shook her head. “You invited us in, you privilege us with your confidence, you take one girl with a martyr complex and another who’s been brought up to think she’s the world’s salvation, and you tell them that you need their help to protect the world from destruction, what do you think the answer will be? Look at me!”

Professor Ozpin did not look at her. His head was bowed, and his back seemed to be bending too, as if some force was pressing down hard upon him. “You are correct, of course,” he murmured. “I am sorry, Miss Shimmer, for all that has befallen you and your friends. I should not have involved you all so soon, so young.”

Sunset stared at him. Her tail went a little limp, drooping between her legs. Her eyes were wide. She had expected … she wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected, but that kind of humble apology had not been one of them. He looked beaten, as if she had attacked him with far more than words … or as if the words with which she had attacked him were particularly painful.

This must be a trick, to make me feel pity for him.

“You say that,” she said, her nostrils flaring, “but this isn’t the first time, is it? This is what you do?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “Yes, this is what I do.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Gods help me, for the reasons you say,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Because you are young, because you are inexperienced and free from the accretions of cynicism and fixed thinking that afflict men as they grow older. Because you are still able to believe, to believe in magic and Salem, but also to believe that she can be defeated. Because you are at an age where you still have hope; it has not been driven out of you by experience of the world.”

“'Hope'?” Sunset asked. “Or arrogance? We were vain children, Professor, who saw our shadows lengthen on the wall and thought that we were tall as giants. We were not ready to join this struggle.” She closed her eyes. “I was not ready.”

“Too much humility is as bad as too much pride, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said calmly.

Sunset’s eyes snapped open. “You knew … on the night when you invited Ruby to come to Beacon, you knew that I’d risked the old man’s life for the glory of capturing Torchwick, didn’t you?”

Professor Ozpin nodded slightly. “I’m glad to see that you were not deaf to my implications.”

“But it seems that you forgot them,” Sunset replied. “You knew that I was not a hero; you sat across the table from me and told me so—”

“And I told you that you could learn,” Professor Ozpin said.

“And then you plucked me out and raised me up and sent me into Mountain Glenn!” Sunset snapped. “You need heroes to confront Salem, and I … I am not a hero. And you knew that once.”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin acknowledged. “I knew.”

“And yet you chose me anyway,” Sunset declared. “Have I become so much better at fooling you over these two semesters?”

“No, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said, venturing a slight smile. “You have, for the most part, been defiantly yourself. Your development has been interesting to watch, but you are correct: you are not a hero.”

“Then why?” Sunset demanded. “Why me? Was I just the price you had to pay for Pyrrha and Ruby?”

Professor Ozpin shook his head. “No, Miss Shimmer, indeed not. You are…” He trailed off.

Sunset frowned. “Professor?”

Professor Ozpin did not reply, but rather, walked forwards, not straight towards Sunset but beside her, so that he was no longer looking at her but rather looking out across the cliffs. “I said that you were an extraordinarily talented group,” he said quietly. “The most talented to walk these halls since—”

“Since Team Stark,” Sunset finished for him.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen.” He paused. “You ask if there was no one else I could have sent to Mountain Glenn, but the truth is that Qrow Branwen is the only man I have at my beck and call, and he is … not answering my calls at the moment.”

Sunset’s frown deepened. “In the sense that you had a fight or—”

“In the sense that I do not know if he is still alive, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said gravely.

Sunset swallowed. “I … I do not know the man, but I hope so, for Ruby’s sake.”

“I hope so too,” Professor Ozpin said. “Qrow is a resourceful individual, but … it is always a risk.”

“If he had been here, would you have sent him into Mountain Glenn?” Sunset said. “Would you have sent him instead of us?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “Yes, I would have. Believe me, Miss Shimmer, I take no pleasure in making warriors out of my students before their time.”

“And yet you made warriors out of Team Stark before their time,” Sunset pointed out. “They were students too, weren’t they? A little older than we were—”

“Events moved more swiftly for you, unfortunately,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Still,” Sunset said. “You started early enough, the extra missions, introducing them to your old friends; who were Auburn and Merida?”

Professor Ozpin looked at her, if only by turning his head ever so slightly. “I’m curious how you learned those names, Miss Shimmer,” he said.

“I’m curious who they were and how they did what they did,” Sunset replied.

“Are you too young and inexperienced to be involved in these weighty affairs, Miss Shimmer, or do you have the right to all my secrets?” Professor Ozpin asked. He did not say that it could not be both, but that was the implication nonetheless.

Sunset glared at him. “Ruby has her mother’s diary,” she said.

“Ah, of course,” Professor Ozpin said. “I suppose you found it when you were rummaging through the archives to dispose of Mister Arc’s transcripts.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“I have been doing this for a very long time, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that, Professor,” Sunset muttered, “but if Ruby had read further in that diary, she would find mention of Salem, wouldn’t she?”

“Miss Rose would find that I had called her mother into my office, just as I called you, and told her what I told you, yes,” Professor Ozpin said. “That is why, when Summer died, Taiyang gave the diary to me, so that his daughters would not find out the truth.”

“Before you judged them ready?”

“I think Taiyang would have preferred they did not find out at all,” Professor Ozpin said. “But you are right; I began to test Team Stark, to judge their potential, to see how they reacted. I did not have the time to do the same with you, although you seemed determined to prove yourselves to me regardless, what with your actions at the docks and your cooperation with Team Rosepetal.” He paused. “Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen. Raven once asked me, as you did, why I chose her.”

“Did you regret it?” Sunset asked. “Is that why you didn’t want Yang to know anything about this?”

“Miss Xiao Long is very little like her mother,” Professor Ozpin said. “As I fear she will find out one day, to her sorrow. No, she has far, far more of her father in her: loyal, kind, brave, caring.”

“So what’s the matter with her?” Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin did not answer that. “Raven was of a different sort: suspicious, obstreperous, proud, vain … fierce, fearsome at times. I think she found it hard to love, but when she did … she loved with all her heart. No, Miss Xiao Long is very little like her mother.”

But someone else is a lot like her, aren’t they? “So the answer is that every team of your operatives needs someone a bit obnoxious, and Yang’s too nice?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Do you know why General Ironwood is a part of my inner circle?” he asked her. “The head of the most powerful force of arms on Remnant, and yet, I do not seek to make use of it. Why, then, do I not exclude him utterly? Why, since I dislike the army that he wields, do I allow him to be a part of my work, do I admit some of his own students as a sop to his vanity, do I give him my ear for all that he speaks words I would rather not hear?”

Sunset thought for a moment. “Is it … is it because his words are not ones that you would like to hear?”

Professor Ozpin smiled. “Precisely, Miss Shimmer. Glynda is my loyal staff, but she will obey any instruction that I give her; Qrow is blindly obedient to my will; Lionheart cringes before me; of my lieutenants, only James has the self-regard to push back against me if he feels he is in the right. I do not always like it, and I do not always listen, but I appreciate that he is willing to do so.” His mouth tightened, and it seemed almost that Professor Ozpin winced at some remembered pain. “Raven, too, pushed back against me, and in no uncertain terms. She would call me an old fool if she thought I deserved it. I … I do not think that I am reading too much into things when I trace the downfall of Team Stark to the moment when Raven forsook our cause.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You wanted me because I didn’t trust you?”

“I have never claimed to be omniscient,” Ozpin said. “I have made more mistakes than any man alive. I was glad Team Sapphire was led by someone who would use their own judgement instead of blindly following mine. In that way, you are likely to catch more of my mistakes than someone blinded by too much faith in the legend of my greatness.”

Sunset’s mouth opened just a little as she stared at this old man, this man whom she had thought such a spider but who now seemed so humble. “I fear I have misjudged you terribly, Professor.”

“Please don’t disappoint me by becoming a sycophant, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “The truth is that, aside from possibly thinking me colder than I am, you have judged me perfectly. I am dangerous to your friends, as is my cause and your association with it. As I was dangerous to Summer Rose. Which is why they are fortunate indeed to have you watching over them.”

Sunset stared at him as though it were the first time she had laid eyes upon him, which it almost was in so many ways. “I think my princess would approve of you, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “I would take that as high praise, Miss Shimmer, if I knew her better.”

“Take it as high praise in any case,” Sunset said. “There is no one whose good opinion is worth more.” She fell silent for a moment. “So I was right: you do know what I speak of.”

“I am aware of what you are, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “You are not the first visitor from Equestria, although I must say you are by far the most congenial. Most of those who came from your land to ours … well, I’m bound to say that your world has a very bad habit of expelling its problems into ours. Or at least it did, at one time.”

“I am … sorry to hear that, Professor, but for what it may be worth, I do not think that has been the practice since my princess came to rule,” Sunset said.

“No, I have noticed a drop off,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “You are the first to come here from that land in quite some time, at least to my knowledge; I sincerely hope there have not been other visitors without my knowledge, but I have been wrong before.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured, as she thrust her hands into her pockets. “Professor … I misjudged you, but … but you misjudged me, in turn. I am no General Ironwood; I am … this is all my fault.”

“Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset turned away from him. “I … I am the one who caused the Breach,” she said, the words hurtling out of her, glad to spill out, eager to escape, so eager that they rushed from the gates in a great flood. “I got to the front of the train before anyone else and the detonator was there and there was no way out of the tunnel and everyone would have died, and so I…” She stopped, out of breath, panting a little. “Everyone would have died, and so I risked the lives of … everyone.”

Professor Ozpin stared down at her, his grey eyes unreadable. He looked away. “Well,” he said, “I suppose we’ll manage to keep house.”

Sunset blinked. “That … that’s it?”

“Would you prefer me to throw you off the cliff, Miss Shimmer?”

“This isn’t funny, Professor!” Sunset snapped.

“No, Miss Shimmer, it isn’t,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “Six people are dead, and you will have to carry the weight of that for the rest of your life. Just as I will. Just as Miss Fall will, if such things are capable of touching her conscience. But what good would it do to punish you for this? Is there anything that I or anyone else could do to you that would resurrect Mister Lark or any other victim of that day? Perhaps they would rest easier in their graves to see you caged or chained or worse, but I doubt it. In my experience … the dead are not so nearly so vengeful as the vengeful living claim to cover up their lust for bloodshed and retribution.”

Sunset shivered. “That cannot be it.”

“Is your guilt not enough?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Do you wish further punishment?”

“I…” Sunset swallowed. “I’d like something to be done to me so I could stop feeling guilty,” she confessed. Put like that, it sounded rather pathetic, not to mention stupid.

“There is nothing I could do to you that would achieve that, either,” Professor Ozpin said solemnly. “I’m sorry to tell you that it … never goes away.”

“'Never'?” Sunset asked.

“Never,” Professor Ozpin repeated. “Or at least … not for a very, very long time. Does anyone else know of what you have done?”

“Rainbow Dash,” Sunset said. “And … Novo Aris, and her daughter, and First Councillor Emerald.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose.

“I thought … I hoped … Councillor Emerald would give me the punishment that you will not,” Sunset said. “I will undertake … assignments, on his behalf.”

“He has no right to do that,” Professor Ozpin said firmly.

“He is the First Councillor,” Sunset said.

“Nevertheless, he has no right,” Professor Ozpin declared, his voice rising. “I will—”

“No, Professor, you won’t,” Sunset insisted. “This is … what I deserve.”

Professor Ozpin frowned. “This will not bring you peace, Miss Shimmer.”

“Perhaps not, Professor, but it is better than nothing,” Sunset said.

“Your friends may not agree when you die to satisfy the First Councillor’s hunger for revenge,” Professor Ozpin said. “Have you considered that?”

Sunset swallowed. “I … I have, Professor. If I do not return I, give my voice in the succession to Pyrrha.”

“I mean no slight against Miss Nikos when I say that I would rather you returned, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said softly. “Your team needs you, and you … may I give you some advice?”

Sunset nodded.

“When Raven asked me why I chose her, I answered her as I answered you, but I fear she did not hear me as I would have wished,” Professor Ozpin said. “She saw it as her role to protect the others, and when she found — when she decided, when she realised, however you wished to say it — that she could not protect them, that she could not be their hero … she forsook them, taking flight from a duty she could not fulfil. Raven forgot that a team, ultimately, protects each other.”

“I cannot tell them,” Sunset whispered. “They would … they would think me a monster. I … I marvel, Professor, that you do not. Does this not go against all huntsman oaths?”

“You made a mistake,” Professor Ozpin said. “And you regret it. And the next time, you will do better.”

“I don’t know if I want there to be a next time.”

“I’m afraid there will always be a next time while you walk this road, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said softly, “and it is a road that one should not travel alone.”

Sunset took a deep breath. “Thank you, Professor.”

She left him there, standing on the cliffs, looking out across the Emerald Forest, alone. Alone, just as he had told her not to be. There was either some irony in that, or some terrible reason, and Sunset was not at all sure that she wanted to know which it was.

Besides, it was hardly her place to ask. She … she respected him more now than she had done; she had misjudged him, and yet, that did not make them close. Certainly, it did not make her close enough to pry into his private affairs. This was nothing that touched upon their work — that, she meant to find out; they would return to the subject of Auburn and Merida, assuming that Councillor Emerald didn’t get Sunset killed first.

But for his own sorrow … he might keep it to himself, while he would.

For her own part, Sunset returned to the school, and would have returned to the dorm room save that she found Pyrrha first, wandering the grounds.

“Sunset!” Pyrrha cried. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“And now you’ve found me,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, before Sunset could.

“You’re sorry?” Sunset repeated. “You’re sorry? I’m the one who—”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Pyrrha said. “I said that I wanted to help you, and I do, but … but pushing you like that until you felt that you had to go … that was no way to help. It was no way for your best friend to behave. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you like this, but if you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong … I will respect that.” She paused. “Although … if there’s anything that I can do—”

“You’re already doing it,” Sunset informed her. “Well, actually, there is one thing.”

“What?”

“You can help me cover this bruise up before Ruby and Jaune get back.”

Assets and Operatives (New)

Assets and Operatives

Portchester Manor was a secluded gothic edifice set behind Vale’s Green Line, in the midst of the farmland that bordered on the city itself. The estate was wide and set behind its own wall for protection against the grimm, and within that wall was encompassed woods, a spring, and a not inconsiderable amount of good grouse moor.

‘This was in my prayers,’ a poet had once written, ‘a measure of land not so large, with a garden and, near the house, a spring of pure water, and above this, a little patch of woods. The gods have given me more and better.’

The gods had certainly given the Portchester family more and better; they had enjoyed the rural idyll the ancient poets sang of without having to submit themselves to a rustic lack of creature comforts. The house from which they had presided over their large measure of land contained over a hundred rooms, including a ballroom, a library, a great dining hall, enough bedrooms for a score or more of guests, servants’ quarters, and all the other trappings of a great aristocratic family.

The House of Portchester had been old, wealthy, and prestigious; they had served the kings of Vale in war and peace, and done very well for themselves in the process: lands, titles, offices, and honours had flowed to them, increasing in every generation. But to Cinder’s mind, their story became truly interesting a few generations before the Great War, when a rash of deaths — including some that were rather sudden, unexpected, and terribly tragic — meant that the lordship of the family fell to a distant cousin, one Louis Mazzini, although he had, of course, taken the Portchester name upon his succession. Whatever his last name, old Louis had lived a grand life: married to a beautiful woman, popular with his servants and tenants, generous and kind, and only dying at a ripe old age, leaving behind a loving family. It was only after the old lord was dead that his memoirs were found, revealing — what a surprise! — that he had, with one or two exceptions, murdered all of the relatives who had stood between him and the Portchester lordship, including his wife’s first husband. Apparently, his mother had been disowned by her aristocratic family after she eloped with an opera singer from Mantle, and he had not forgiven them for their refusal to allow her to be interred in the family crypt.

Cinder could sympathise with his desire for revenge, although to be perfectly honest, she could have sympathised with his desire to murder everyone who stood between him and a plum inheritance like this one as well. Not everyone had the good fortune to be born to, well, fortune; not everyone’s good fortune lasted all their lives. Some people had to make their own good fortune in this world, even if that meant getting your hands a little dirty in the process. It was fair to say that Louis’ reputation had declined somewhat once the truth came out, but as far as Cinder was concerned, he was the most admirable of the bunch; how much better to rise upon your own merits, to win the fruits of your wit and daring, than to let things come to you through happy accident of birth?

In any event, the family had survived the shock, no one had suggested disinheriting Louis’ children for the crimes of their father, and the Portchesters had carried on. Well, to all outward appearances, at least. Apparently, they’d gotten a taste for hidden sins, and the later generations of the family had gotten involved in grimm worship. Nobody knew exactly how long the practice had been going on, but if one was to go down into the cellars, one could find a black temple, a shrine, all the necessary accoutrements for worshipping the creatures of destruction … and blood stains on the stone.

The locals had found out eventually, of course; one of the waifish village girls the lords had sought to sacrifice had possessed a strapping village lad as her beau, and said strapping lad had gotten into the manor and rescued his lass before she could be sacrificed. An outraged mob had marched upon the manor with pitchforks and torches … and the grimm, summoned by their outrage and their fury, had descended upon the whole pack of them, and in their slaughter, they had cared not for who worshipped them and who did not. And that had been the end of the Portchester family.

Understandably, nobody had been too keen to claim the inheritance at this point; in fact, nobody seemed to want the land at all. Nobody wanted to venture into the house, not even to demolish it. Local legend said that it was haunted: by the ghosts of those that Louis Mazzini had killed to get the house, by the ghosts of the victims of the Portchesters’ sacrifices, or by the ghosts of those the grimm had devoured that final night.

Cinder was not concerned. She did not fear her own ghosts; she certainly didn’t fear the ghosts of other men’s crimes. If any of them wanted to try their hands at haunting her, they would soon find out that she could be scarier than any phantom.

She was currently in the bedroom that had, when the house was in its grandeur, belonged to the lady of the house. She did not need a bedroom, but people expected her to sleep, even though she didn’t, so it was wise to retire to a bedroom of nights, even if all she did there was plot and plan and brood.

And it was, despite the dilapidated state of the house, rather a nice bedroom. Yes, there was fungus growing in one corner and black mould creeping up the walls, and it was hard to avoid the impression of rising damp wherever one looked, but if one put all of that aside and tried to imagine how it had looked in its pomp, one could recreate the dignity of the place when house and family alike were at their height. There was the dressing table at which Lady Edith, Louis’ wife, had sat while the maid arranged her hair; there was the jewellery box which no one had had the courage to rob; there was the mirror in which she had admired herself — Cinder had cleaned it with a rag so that she could see her own face in it in turn — and beyond that, there was the window at which she might have stood and looked out across the land that was so wide and beautiful and all hers.

Right now, however, Cinder was looking not in the mirror, or out of the window, but rather, at the scroll in her hand which had just gone black, Sunset having hung up on her.

“You made me a monster.”

“How tediously bourgeois of you,” Cinder said aloud. She tossed the scroll down onto the dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror. With one idle hand, she brushed some of her hair out of her face, revealing her other eye. “Because it’s wrong,” she said, putting an undue, almost ridiculous amount of emphasis upon the word. She wagged her finger. “It’s wrong!” She put her hands upon her hips. “You can’t do that; it’s wrong.” She snorted in derision.

“You made me you.”

The smirk faltered upon Cinder’s face, and the worst part was that she could see it happening.

What was wrong with that? What was wrong with being her? She was something to be admired, respected, revered. She was strong and bold and daring. She had such courage in her as would bend the world around her; she had such ambitions as would put the moon back together; she was such as kingdoms trembled in fear of her!

She was all alone.

And? And what of that? That was no fault of hers; that was … an accident, because certain people preferred to be so very high and mighty, to stand in judgement of her, to look down on her as though they had any right. If people would rather call her monster than take her hand, was she to blame? If she was all alone, then it was the world’s fault, not hers.

Not that she needed anyone else.

And why did Sunset have to say it like that, anyway? What had she been before that was so great that becoming more like Cinder was an awful fate for her?

She had been loved.

Cinder scowled, and as she scowled, she snatched up the scroll from the dressing table and sent Sunset a text message.

Fine. Be that way. See if I care.

The message sent, she threw the scroll back down again and moved away from the mirror. She didn’t want to look at her own reflection anymore.

“You have made me you.”

You didn’t have to say it like that.

“You have made me you.”

Then why don’t you embrace it?

“You have made me you.”

That was my intent, but I meant well by it.

The scowl remained on Cinder’s face as she looked out of the window. The grounds, spacious if a little overgrown by now, brought her no joy to look on. She didn’t want to think about Sunset anymore. She didn’t want to think about what Sunset had said … but in her mind, there was no getting away from it.

She had sought to free Sunset from the constraints of petty modern morality, to make her into … well, into someone more like Cinder, a hero out of the old epics of Mistral: violent, to be sure, and dangerous to cross, but nobody judged the original Pyrrha being either of those things. Nobody called her a monster, or even a murderer. Nobody wagged their finger in her face and told her she was wrong.

No, they called her the greatest hero of their day, the greatest that had ever lived, the greatest in the canon of Mistralian literature.

Cinder had hoped that Sunset would come to see it the same way, the way that Cinder viewed herself. Instead, the chains of modern morality, harsh though they were, and cold, and utterly lacking in romance, seemed to have tightened into a noose that was strangling Sunset, and it was … it was all Cinder’s fault.

Well, it was partly Sunset’s fault for continuing to be bound by such things, but it was Cinder’s fault as well.

She had not meant to hurt Sunset, but it seemed that she had hurt her nonetheless.

And that … well, that gave her pause. It made her think. It made her think in ways that she would rather not have thought of.

Many of the things for which she might be condemned were not near her conscience. Infiltrating Beacon, pretending to be someone she was not, gaining the confidence of those she meant to betray? That was a ruse de guerre, no different than tricking her way into a fortress. Killing those Atlesian soldiers at the tower? This was war, she was a soldier, and they had weapons in their hands; the fact that she was more skilled than they was no good nor evil thing. But Twilight Sparkle, up in the tower…

“You have made me you.”

Sunset meant the deaths of those five little people in Vale — plus this Sky Lark fellow who had Sweetie Drops so worked up, and what was she going to do about that? She had called Sunset in part to have her ego stroked a little after Bon Bon’s outburst, but instead, she had been left feeling worse than she had done before — but Cinder’s mind was not on them. No great thing was ever accomplished without violence, and no Great Man of history ever concerned themselves with the cost of their ambitions. But Twilight Sparkle…

“You have made me you.”

Cinder was what the world had made of her. If she was cruel, it was because the world had been cruel to her in turn. If she sought power, it was because power was the only way to keep yourself safe in this world. If she was ambitious, it was because this was not a world that would give you a handout if you waited patiently, or asked nicely, or were humble and good-hearted and trusted in the kindness of others. And if her ambitions threatened to trample upon others in her way, then it was only because she had seen that that was the way that men realised their ambitions in these kingdoms.

Cinder was what the world had made of her. Cinder … she was what Phoebe Kommenos had made of her.

“You have made me you.”

And you made me you, Phoebe.

That had been a cruel bit of business in the tower. Foolish, hazardous — at the point at which Mercury had informed her that Rainbow Dash was on the way, she should have made her escape as quickly as possible, claimed innocence of anything that Twilight had found, and tried to get back into the tower again and plant the virus at a later date — and cruel. She had let the Phoebe inside come out and play.

“You have made me you.”

Alright, yes, I can see how that might be seen as a bad thing.

I am not without virtue. I am cultured, erudite, and self-taught, what is more, intelligent, hard working … but that’s not what you meant, is it, Sunset?

Cinder was given a respite from these musings — for which she was very grateful — when she saw a man approaching the house, walking up the road towards the front door. She recognised him as Captain Kyle of the King’s Own Patch Light Infantry, the same grimm cultist who had escorted her and her followers through the Valish lines. Now, he approached, dressed in plain fatigues, with no insignia of rank visible and a bulging backpack hanging from one shoulder.

Cinder turned away, not even taking another look in the mirror, leaving the lady’s bedroom and sweeping down the stairs, her glass slippers clicking upon the wooden boards, until she arrived in the hallway. Rusted suits of armour stood against the wall; portraits that were so dirty that the figures within them were invisible; the wooden panels were rotting away in places, suggesting some sort of infestation. The hall ran straight ahead from the grand staircase down which she had descended, with a few doors opening — and they were all open at the moment — off said hallway.

Cinder walked briskly down the corridor to the front door of the house, opening both the double doors before Captain Kyle could reach them. With luck, he wouldn’t realise that she’d seen him from the window and would marvel at her perspicacity.

“Captain,” she greeted him evenly.

He bowed his head. “Apostle,” he murmured. “You knew I was coming?”

Cinder smiled. “I have been endowed with many gifts, Captain, and those gifts come with many abilities.”

“Of course,” he said. The good captain was a tall man, broad shouldered, with muscular arms — exposed, since he had his sleeves rolled up — and a round, bald head, although said baldness was mostly concealed beneath a green beret. “You … you are honoured indeed, apostle; I must admit, I envy you.”

Envy, you say? You envy me? You envy what I am? You envy what I have done to myself? “Serve me well, Captain, in this and in my work here, and you too shall be rewarded,” Cinder purred. Complete nonsense, of course, but the promise might carry him over some of the more unsavoury things that she might ask of him.

Captain Kyle’s small brown eyes widened. “You mean … really?”

“You sound surprised,” Cinder said. “Is that not what you have hoped for? What you have prayed for?”

Kyle hesitated. “Yes,” he admitted, “but my worship has been lax of late; amongst the men, there is little room; there are few other disciples, but if we were discovered—”

“Your position is understood,” Cinder assured him. “The outward shows of worship and obedience are important, but not as important as the faith you carry inside your heart. Keep the faith, serve when you are commanded, and all minor omissions will be forgiven. Why, simply for assisting me in this, the grimm will not trouble your men in their position.”

“Thank you, apostle,” Kyle replied. “They are not all worshippers, far from it, but they are good men, after their own fashion, and I would see them protected. That is one of the reasons why I became a disciple. Why strive against the darkness when we can serve it, and be protected by our service better than our arms ever kept us safe?”

“Why indeed?” Cinder replied. “Did you bring food?”

“Of course,” Kyle said, dumping the backpack down on the doorstep. “It is poor fare, ration packs and MREs, but—”

“It will serve,” Cinder told him. The Portchester larder was bare — or at least, it was bare of anything that Emerald or Lightning Dust were willing to try and eat — and even Cinder was not beyond the need for bodily sustenance. If Bon Bon had been more cooperative, then she could have bought them something from Vale, but that might have taken time in and of itself. This would tide them over until Cinder thought of how to best address their current position. She picked up the rucksack and moved it over the threshold, into the house and out of the way of the doors. “Thank you, Captain; this will not be forgotten.”

“Hey, Captain!”

Cinder looked around. Sonata Dusk had poked her head out of the one of the doorways leading out into the hall, and now waved cheerily with her one visible hand.

“Nice to see you again!” she added brightly.

Once more, Kyle bowed his head, “It is an honour to stand in your presence, servant.”

“Oh, you don’t need to be so formal with little old me,” Sonata said dismissively. “Just call me ‘ma’am’!” She laughed. “Just kidding, you can call me Sonata, seeing as you’re such a sweetheart. Ooh, is that food?”

“Thank you, Sonata, that will be all,” Cinder growled. She returned her attention to the captain. “And that will be all for you as well, Captain. Return to your post, and if I have further need of you, I will send Emerald or Lightning with my instructions.”

“I would be glad to receive any messenger touched by the darkness,” Kyle said, “and to obey as swiftly as I may.”

“Of course,” Cinder said, and shut the doors on him with as much haste as she could get away with. “Emerald?” she called. Lightning Dust was patrolling the perimeter, but Emerald ought to be around here somewhere. “Emerald!”

“Here I am,” Emerald replied, emerging from somewhere out of the back of the house. “Yes, Cinder?”

“This will be our food, for the next few days at least,” Cinder announced, prodding the rucksack with her foot. “Take it into the kitchen and…” She trailed off from ordering Emerald to sort it into meals for them. Mercury had been their best cook — the result of a lifetime of taking care of his father — but Emerald could produce something edible, which was more than could be said for Lightning Dust. However…

“You have made me you.”

Oh, please. You’d be lucky to be half as skilled as I am, Sunset.

“Take it into the kitchen,” she repeated, “and I will … deal with it … later.”

Emerald stared at her. “You will … are you going to make dinner?”

As a matter of fact, Cinder was — or had been — a fairly decent cook. It had been one of her many duties in the House of Kommenos, along with sewing, mending, cleaning — she could have cleaned this house, if she had had the mind — and the proper polishing of antique silverware. The origins of that particular skill meant that she did not much enjoy using it, for which reason she had kept her ability a secret from her minions. But, well … her conscience had been pricked, it seemed. She was more than just a cruel monster.

“Yes,” she said, her voice low, the words emerging almost through gritted teeth. “I will take care of it.”

Emerald continued to stare, eyes wide. “Do you … know how?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Cinder replied sarcastically.

“Because I don’t—”

“I’ve given you your instructions,” Cinder said sharply.

Emerald flinched. “Yes, of course you have, I’ll just take those away…” She began to walk forward, quickly but softly, as if she were treading very carefully for fear the floor might collapse under her at any moment.

Cinder took a deep breath. “Noblesse oblige, Emerald,” she said. “Take a rest, and let me take care of things.”

Emerald hesitated, stopping her tracks. An uncertain smile flickered upon her face. “Of course. Thank you, Cinder.” She picked up the rucksack and disappeared into the back of the house in the direction of the kitchen.

“That was nice of you,” Sonata declared from the doorway. “You’re not going to poison us all, are you?”

“No,” Cinder said flatly. She advanced upon Sonata, who retreated before her back into the room from which she had half emerged. It was some sort of sitting room, with a mouldy settee and a dilapidated table sitting in front of it. “There was no need for you to show yourself to him.”

“I was just being friendly,” Sonata replied.

“There was no need for that, either,” Cinder informed her.

Sonata didn’t argue. Instead, she returned to the settee and sat down upon it, resting her feet on the table. “Have you made the arrangement for my big debut yet?” she asked.

The answer to that was no, but Cinder wasn’t about to admit that. “Everything is in hand,” she declared. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” Sonata said. “I am kind of looking forward to being able to change out of these rags, though.”

Cinder didn’t particularly like seeing her in those either; they were an uncomfortable reminder of things that she would rather have forgotten. However, even if she had been minded to do something about it — which she was not — she couldn’t do so without the proper materials which she did not have.

Sonata seemed to realise that a response wasn’t coming, because she said, “That really was a nice thing you did for Emerald.”

Cinder snorted. “A good lord rewards her faithful servants and ensures that their needs are met, that they might serve her well in future.”

Sonata nodded. “It’s still nice of you to take care of us like that. I’m kind of surprised though, since—” She clasped her hands over her mouth.

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “Go on.”

“It’s nothing! Nothing at all. Forget I said anything. Nothing!” Sonata squeaked.

Cinder folded her arms. “I don’t think I will. Finish what you were about to say. Please.”

Sonata smiled weakly. “Well, it’s just that I’ve heard that you … haven’t … always taken care of the people who work for you.”

Cinder grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and set in down on the other side of the little table. “What has Lightning Dust been complaining about?”

“I wouldn’t say that she’s been complaining,” Sonata said. “She’s just been … thinking aloud … where I can hear her.”

Cinder chuckled. “Then what has Lightning been thinking about?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Sonata said. “People dying for no reason, waste of resources … doesn’t everyone think about that stuff some of the time?”

Cinder leaned back in her chair, but not too far back, because it was an old chair and might break if she put too much pressure on it. “How familiar are you with bloodshed?”

“Me? Not at all!” Sonata declared. “I’m just a singer.”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose sceptically.

“Okay, I’m a singer who can make people do what I want, but that’s just the thing:” Sonata said, “why kill people when they’re doing what you want anyway?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. As the leader of the operation at Mountain Glenn, the deaths of the White Fang might be said to be her responsibility. It was certainly not something that could be described as noblesse oblige in any way. She had sent them to their deaths, just like—

“You have made me you.”

“Cinder?” Sonata asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cinder said sharply. She took a deep breath, and huffed loudly. “It is true that there has been much bloodshed, and that much of the bloodshed has so far been on our side. But no matter what Lightning Dust may huff and puff or ‘think aloud’ where you can hear her, their sacrifice was not pointless. Preserving that force in the face of a superior enemy, that would have been pointless; the White Fang became fodder the moment … things change. Plans change. Circumstances change, and with them, our designs. It is true that I had planned to use the White Fang in a way which might have preserved more of their lives, but that … became impossible.”

“You have made me you.”

All of them were willing to give their lives for the cause.

Sonata was silent for a moment. “But now you have a new plan, right?”

“Yes,” Cinder said. “I have a new plan, and I have you.”

Sonata smiled. “Thank you, for your confidence. It feels good to have someone depending on my skills.” She looked away. “My sisters … they treat me like… they always treated me like…”

“Like someone less?” Cinder guessed. “Less in talent, less in ability, less in worth?”

Sonata’s eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“I know the feeling,” Cinder told her. She leaned forwards. “We are going to show them all, you and I. We will show them what worth has lain in us undreamt of. We will change this world and make a place for ourselves in it.”

Sonata grinned. A little giggle escaped her. “Well, gee, that sounds really nice! That sounds awesome! But … what’s going to happen to me when we’re done?”

Cinder got to her feet. “Serve me well,” she said, “and I will see you set free from Salem’s imprisonment.”

“'Free'?” Sonata repeated. “You mean that?”

“I have no desire to put a collar back around your neck,” Cinder said. “You should be free, to do as you will, to shine as bright as you may, without harm or interference.” She walked to the door, stopping to look back. “This world tries to grind down people like us, but we’ll show them.”

Sonata nodded. “We sure will.”

Cinder left her there and returned to her room. The scroll was still sitting there on the dressing table where she had left it. She approached, but slowly, and stared down at the scroll for a few moments, staring at it as though she were trying to will it to move without touching it, before with a sigh, she finally picked it up, snapped it open, and sent Sunset another message.

That anger that you’re feeling? That rage that grips you? The hatred that you bear for me? That is how I feel every single day. All the fire that burns in you has raged in me for years. So perhaps now you will not be so quick to tell me to get over it, or to to keep moving forward.

And yet I am sorry to have wounded you as I was wounded.

Then she called Doctor Watts. She had a feeling it was not going to be one of the highlights of her day.

The fact that it took him an unconscionably long time to answer as she stood there waiting wasn’t a particularly good start.

Finally, after Cinder had begun to tap her foot in frustration, he answered voice only, and Cinder was greeted to the sound of that plum voice with its permanently smug, supercilious tone. “Cinder, how nice to hear your voice again so soon.”

“Arthur,” Cinder replied, with chilly courtesy.

“Thank you for providing a distraction the other night,” Doctor Watts said. “I trust you were able to evade James’ guard dogs?”

“Obviously, or we wouldn’t be speaking, would we?”

“You’re right, of course, how foolish of me. So, what else can I do for you? Would you like another virus you can squander?”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Sweetie Drops isn’t cooperating.”

“Oh my word,” Doctor Watts said in mock surprise. “Why ever not?”

“Something to do with a death,” Cinder said. “One of her teammates was killed in the Breach, and she’s upset about it. I need you to talk some sense into her and remind her that this is a mission and that the dead boy was an enemy, not a friend. Remind her of where her duty lies.”

“Shouldn’t that be your job?” Doctor Watts asked. “I gave you Sweetie Drops, I entrusted her to your command, and now, you're saying that your leadership skills are insufficient—”

“I’m telling you that your operative has been as good as useless from the day I met her, and now, she is actively insubordinate!” Cinder snapped. “Take her in hand, or—”

“Or what?” Doctor Watts asked.

Cinder closed her mouth to suppress the wordless growl that sought to issue from her throat. The worst part was that he was right. She had no sanction other than tattling to Salem on him, and while Salem might not be best pleased that Watts was putting the operation in jeopardy out of spite — then again, she might not mind; she did encourage this kind of competition amongst her servants — it would hardly do much for Cinder’s standing in Watts’ eyes if she had to resort to such.

“If you help me here,” she said, “I will return the favour when the time comes for you to lead an operation. I — and my people — could be useful to you in Atlas. Don’t you want to see the city fall? Don’t you want to see the hope die in Ironwood’s eyes? Don’t you want to show them what fools they were to reject your genius? I can help you make that happen; I will help you, you have my word. But only if you help me here.”

Doctor Watts was silent for a moment. “I won’t talk to Sweetie Drops,” he said.

“What?”

“I have a better idea,” Doctor Watts went on. “I have another operative at Beacon, a better operative. I’ll instruct them to make contact; they can handle whatever it is you need from them.”

“'Another operative'?” Cinder yelled. “'A better operative' at Beacon? Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“You didn’t need to know,” Doctor Watts said. “It wasn’t as though your plan had room for them.”

“You have saddled me with a useless—”

“Do you want to go over the past, or do you want my help?” Doctor Watts asked.

Cinder took a deep breath and told herself that there would be a reckoning for all these slights some time in the future. But not yet, not quite yet. “What is your operative’s name?”

“Can I have a word?”

Bon Bon glanced in the direction of the voice. It belonged to … someone she had seen around, but whose name she didn’t know. She was an Atlesian, part of Trixie’s team, the quiet one of the bunch. The quiet one who wasn’t Sunburst. She was a pony faunus, with a magenta tail descending down between her legs. She was also very tall, about as tall as Pyrrha, maybe even a little taller, taller than Rainbow Dash for certain, and although she wasn’t quite as broad in the shoulders, she nevertheless gave off an impression of strength.

The muscles on her arms might have had something to do with that.

Her arm, rather. One of her arms was a prosthetic; that was something that Bon Bon hadn’t noticed until now, partly because she hadn’t, honestly, been paying much attention but also partly because, as far as she remembered, this girl tended to go around wearing a bodysuit that covered her skin from the neck down. She wasn’t wearing that now, instead wearing a short magenta jacket with a dark hood and collar, over a white t-shirt and blood red pants. The sleeves of her jacket were rolled up, revealing the gleaming metal of her prosthetic arm, as well as the fact that the remaining arm was bound around with bandages.

Her hair was as magenta as her tail, but had been shaved off on both sides of her head, leaving only a tall Mohawk rising up in the middle like the crest of a helmet. A scar ran down the right side of her face, crossing one of her cold opal eyes.

“I don’t have time,” Bon Bon said. “I’m about to—”

“Meet your friends, yes,” the other girl said. “Make them wait a little longer.”

“And why would I do that?” Bon Bon demanded.

The other girl grinned. “Because you and I share a mutual acquaintance. Doctor Arthur Watts?”

Bon Bon had just finished taking off her armour and stowing it in her locker. That seemed kind of unlucky at the moment. But she could still reach her morningstar.

“There’s no need for that,” the girl said. “I’m a friend, and I really do just want to talk.” She smiled. “I won’t even keep you that long.”

Bon Bon left her locker open, and although she turned to face the other girl, she didn’t move away from her weapon. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tempest Shadow, of Team Tsunami,” Tempest said. “For the moment, at least. Like you, I have other, higher allegiances.”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. “That arm … is that how you met Doctor Watts?”

Tempest looked down at the aforementioned arm. “Ursa attack, when I was a kid. You?”

“Faunus terrorists.”

“Ouch,” Tempest said. “But yes, that is how I met Doctor Watts. Unlike you, he couldn’t completely cover up my injuries — the ursa hadn’t left enough of my arm for that — but he put me back together better than most other doctors could have. And in return—”

“He doesn’t deserve your loyalty,” Bon Bon said. “I’m done with him.”

“You’re done with Cinder Fall, is what I heard,” Tempest replied. “I enjoyed hearing about that, and so did Doctor Watts. He wants you to know that. He wants you to know that he’s proud of you, putting that pompous ass in her place.”

“Watts gave me away to Cinder like I didn’t mean anything!” Bon Bon yelled. “Watts…” She lowered her voice. “I don’t need Watts’s pride. I don’t need anything from him—”

“Except his silence,” Tempest said bluntly. “Do you know how easy it would be to expose you?”

Bon Bon’s breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she began to reach for Sirius.

“I really wouldn’t do that,” Tempest said, her prosthetic hand curling into a fist. “This will go much easier if you just hear me out.”

“Why?” Bon Bon demanded. “Why are you here? If you were working for Watts all the time, then why weren’t you—?”

“Given to Cinder, like you?” Tempest finished for her. “I really couldn’t say.”

Unfortunately, Bon Bon thought that she could say. Tempest had not been given to Cinder because Doctor Watts liked Tempest better than he liked Bon Bon, valued her more, saw more potential in her.

Despite her declaration that she was done with Watts, Bon Bon was filled with the urge to bash Tempest’s head in with her morningstar.

“He doesn’t care about you,” she spat. “You might think that he does, you might think that he sees something in you, but you’ll find out, just like I did—”

“Stop,” Tempest said, a touch of weariness entering her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be as patient as I can, but I really don’t care what kind of daddy issues you have; I’m not doing this for the attention of a father figure.”

“Do you even know what you are doing?” Bon Bon demanded. “Do you know why?”

Tempest’s smile was like a knife. “We’re going to tear down the world and remake it in our image.”

A shiver ran down Bon Bon’s back. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Tempest glanced down at her prosthetic. “When I was a child, I had two best friends,” she said. “I don’t remember whose idea it was to go into the dark and creepy cave to get our ball back, but it wasn’t mine. I lost my arm defending them from an ursa, but when Doctor Watts was finished with me, neither of them wanted to know me. I was broken. I’d lost my humanity. You’re lucky; you’ve never had to find out how our society treats people with artificial limbs.”

“General Ironwood—”

“Gets no end of crap thrown his way for it; it’s one of the reasons I actually feel sorry for him,” Tempest said. “People look at me like I’m dangerous, they ask me what it’s like only having one arm — I have two arms, right here!” she yelled, holding up her hands. “And even that’s better than the people who ask me if my arm has a vibrate function, I mean, gods!” She bowed her head and half turned away from Bon Bon, leaning on the row of closed lockers, back bent a little. “I’m not evil because my arm is made of metal.”

“No, you might be evil because you’re planning to wreck the world,” Bon Bon said.

Tempest sniggered. “Okay, I’ll give you that one, but … if the world will not accept me as I am, then I will make a new world where I will stand amongst the mighty, and those who sneered and mocked … caged at my command.” She smiled. “Or I’ll just get a new arm with magic. One of the two, I guess.” She sniggered. “The question is: what do you want?”

“I want revenge,” Bon Bon said. “I want Cinder to pay for what she’s done, I want her to pay for Sky. But I also don’t want Lyra or Dove to get hurt. The truth is, I’m not wild about the idea of anyone else getting hurt anymore.”

The smile remained on Tempest’s face. “Unfortunately, I can’t promise that absolutely no one will get hurt from here on out, but I think I can promise the safety of your teammates, and as for revenge … that, I can absolutely guarantee.”

Bon Bon frowned. “You’re not working for her then?”

“I prefer to say that I’m being inserted into the game,” Tempest said. “Cinder’s blown it. She’s squandered her resources, her original plan has been completely derailed, and she’s scrambling to find another one; now, her new plan is not without merit, but at this point, after this many screw-ups, I don’t think she deserves to take the credit for a successful operation, do you?”

“Doctor Watts means for you to swoop in and do that, doesn’t he?”

“Precisely,” Tempest said. “But I could use someone to watch my back. So what do you say?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You don’t have to help me,” Tempest said. “But I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety if you don’t.”

Then I don’t have a choice, do I? Bon Bon thought. She wanted revenge, but it alone might not have been enough, but for Lyra and Dove … she would do anything for them. Anything at all.

Anything to avoid another Sky.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m in.”

Author's Note

The history of the Portchester Family - or at least the parts involving Louis Mazzini - is the plot of Kind Hearts and Coronets, the crowning achievement of the Ealing Comedies, and a truly great film that I thoroughly recommend watching.

The Girl on the Cereal Box (New)

The Girl on the Box

Pyrrha swallowed. “This is wonderful, Jaune!” she declared. “I had no idea that you could cook Mistralian food!”

Jaune, sitting next to her upon her bed, smiled bashfully. “I didn’t know I could do it either, until I did. Are you sure that everything turned out okay?”

Pyrrha took another modest bite out of her lamb kofta, having made sure to dip it in tzatziki first. “This is the best I’ve had since leaving Mistral,” she said.

Jaune’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“I am not,” Pyrrha insisted. She smiled. “Although it certainly doesn’t hurt that this is all made with love.” She leaned across the slight distance between them – very slight, their shoulders were practically touching – and kissed him on the cheek.

“Come on, please,” Sunset begged amusedly; she was sitting at the desk that ran along the wall – the entire team was concentrated in the back half of the dorm room, with Jaune and Pyrrha upon Pyrrha’s bed, Ruby on her own bed, and Sunset sat off to the side – with her chair turned around so that she was facing the others. “Some consideration for the less fortunate. Don’t rub in it.”

Pyrrha chuckled, but nevertheless said, “I’m sorry.”

Sunset waved one hand dismissively. “That said,” she went on, “this really is very good stuff.” She held up her plate, with a pair of courgette fritters piled on top of one another, with a pile of yogurty tzatziki sitting on the side of the plate. “These here are delicious.”

“I was a little worried there wasn’t going to be a lot you could have,” Jaune explained. “So I wanted to make sure that what you could have tasted good.”

“Well, there are no complaints here, so thank you,” Sunset said.

“This is great, Jaune,” Ruby added, in between bites out of her flatbread stuffed with grilled meat, chopped tomato and onions. “And it was a great idea, too.”

“I felt like doing something different to going to the cafeteria or to Benni Havens,” Jaune explained. “Something, a little special, you know. I think we all deserve it, after the last couple of weeks.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Sunset said, which somewhat surprised Pyrrha, considering the way that Sunset had been acting lately. Moreso even than Ruby, Pyrrha would have expected Sunset to be the first one to argue that they didn’t deserve a good time or a good meal.

Since apparently she had felt that what they really deserved – what she really deserved, at least – was to be beaten to a pulp by Bon Bon.

But since she had come back after teleporting away, there had been something a little different about Sunset. Pyrrha didn’t know what had happened to her while she, Pyrrha, had been looking for Sunset, but clearly something had. Her aura, reactivated, was hard at work healing the bruises – it might even grow her a new tooth, this wasn’t a situation with which Pyrrha was intimately familiar – and a few deft touches of Pyrrha’s makeup were hiding the rest of the effects for now.

Pyrrha just wished that she knew who to thank.

Not that she would stop watching. One day of changed behaviour was not enough to put aside all of Pyrrha’s worries – except of course that this was a night for putting aside worries and enjoying what they had.

The fare was what one might call typical Mistralian food – or at least it was a tradition of Mistralian food; Mistral embraced many traditions in culture, fashion, and food, but this was the particular Mistralian tradition which embraced Pyrrha and her family, and Pyrrha found herself rather pleased that he had gotten that right – but the fact that it was the sort of thing that one might find in a taverna in many parts of Mistral and Anima was no slight against it, especially from someone who was not a professional. Fresh fish, grilled whole and lightly drizzled with lemon and oil dressing; whitebait; grilled skewers of pork and lamb, flatbreads, the courgette fritters that Sunset was enjoying, olives and olive oil, and of course the creamy tzatziki and tarasamalata dips that added just the right touch to the meat and fish respectively. There was even a bowl of moussaka sitting on the floor between them, half consumed already as they had spooned it out onto their plates.

“This wasn’t too much for you, was it?” Pyrrha asked anxiously. “Because you probably didn’t need to-“

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “It wasn’t as though I had anything better to do. And besides, me and Ruby had a good time finding all the ingredients, right?”

“My feet might beg to differ,” Ruby groaned. “Is there any reason we couldn’t have just gone to the mall?”

“The meat and fish taste better fresh,” Jaune said. “Although they’re probably not the same fish you’d get in Mistral.”

“Fish are fish, aren’t they?” Sunset asked.

Jaune boggled at her. “I know you’re a vegetarian, but seriously?”

“I’m a vegetarian unicorn from another world,” Sunset reminded him. “But am I wrong?”

“Yes!” Jaune cried. “Each fish has its own unique flavour, texture, consistency-“

“If fish has its own flavour, then why is it always either deep fried in batter or slathered in sauce?” Sunset asked, with the air of someone who thought they’d found an unanswerable question.

“This fish is only very lightly seasoned,” Pyrrha pointed out quietly.

Sunset stared at her for a moment. “That… is the exception that proves the rule,” she said, in a voice flooded with asperity.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with fish and chips,” Ruby said.

“Other than the fact that it’s about as good for you as Pyrrha’s cereal,” replied Sunset.

“It’s not my cereal,” Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune began, “Pyrrha’s cereal-“

“It’s not mine.”

“May not be all that good for the body, but it’s really good for the soul,” Jaune concluded.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “How can a cereal with far too much marshmallow in be good for the soul.”

“Uh…” Jaune hesitated. He glanced at Pyrrha, his face turning red. “Well… you see, uh… it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh no,” Sunset said, a wicked grin upon her face as she leaned forwards. “You’re not getting away that easily. Come on, out with it.”

“Sunset-“ Pyrrha began.

“It’s fine,” Jaune said, although he didn’t make it sound entirely fine. He twisted his body slightly away from Pyrrha, then glanced at her, a little over his shoulder. His face remained as red as any of the tomatoes he had chopped up to go with the soulvaki.

“I remember, the first time I saw your face on the cereal box,” he said. “You looked so confident, standing there with that smile on your face, and you were dressed like a hero.”

“I thought you didn’t recognise-“ Sunset began.

“Shhhh!” Ruby hissed, gesturing with one hand for Sunset to be quiet.

Jaune didn’t notice the interruption, or pretended not to. “The truth is, that I hadn’t actually had that many Marshmallow Flakes up until then. I… well, Pumpkin Pete’s does a lot of other cereals, and some of them were nicer. I think River only picked up the Marshmallow Flakes that day because it was all they had in the store.” With one hand, he tugged idly at the sleeve of his hoodie; with the armour off, the Pumpkin Pete logo of the mischievous grey rabbit was plain to see. “This hoodie was a top prize, you know?”

Pyrrha could feel her own face heating up a little to match Jaune’s ruddy hue. “Yes,” she said softly. “I remember.” She could not contain a chuckle. “Although I never thought that anyone would actually go for it. Did you really buy fifty boxes of that cereal?”

“Not all at once,” Jaune said defensively. “But, yeah, I bought fifty boxes. I didn’t eat anything else for breakfast until I had all the tokens to send away for the hoodie. My sisters thought I was crazy, eating fifty boxes of kids cereal in a row like that, but I guess… I guess I wanted to finish something, you know. I’d started collecting those tokens, I didn’t want to just give up and drop it like I had everything else. I wanted to finish what I started, for the girl on the front of the box whose proud face inspired me.”

Pyrrha couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She hoped that she would be forgiven for that; she hoped that most girls would struggle to keep the smile off their face hearing this – where they were the subject, of course. Similarly, she couldn’t keep a slight teasing note out of her voice as she said, “Oh, really? I inspired you? Even though you didn’t recognise me when you met me in person?”

“Well…”

“I was even wearing the same outfit,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Yeah, but come on, how was I to know that I’d actually meet that girl – meet you – for real?” Jaune asked. “I never thought that I’d… I always thought that that girl, that you, were on a whole other level to me, the idea that I’d meet you in person, let alone team up with you, let alone… I never imagined that would happen.” He paused for a moment. “They took your picture off the box just before I got to fifty tokens. It was like… it sounds kind of stupid, but I imagined that you’d had to go, like you were on some other adventure somewhere. I think that a part of me didn’t realise that you were only my age, just a student. In some ways, that inspired me to go to Beacon. The girl on the cereal box wasn’t sitting around in the same place forever, she was going places, having adventures, helping people. I thought that I should probably do the same.” He chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. “Plus, you’re totally different in person. You don’t smile all the time, but when you do smile it looks nothing like it did on the cereal box. It’s so much more lively, and it makes your eyes light up.” He looked at her. “That’s another thing that the box didn’t capture, the way that your eyes… I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I didn’t recognise you, it’s because some picture on a cereal box has nothing on the real you.”

“Now kiss,” Sunset said.

Jaune squeaked in embarrassment. Had he forgotten that Sunset and Ruby were there? Pyrrha had almost done that herself, so she could hardly blame him.

She looked away, one hand reaching up to play with the lock of hair that fell down on the right side of her face; she twirled the locks of red around her finger, over and over again, as her cheeks heated up.

And yet the smile remained on her face nonetheless. The smile he found so lively, and so lovely.

It had not been love at first cereal box, or else he would hardly have chased after Weiss the way he had, but nevertheless… it was so, so very wonderful to hear.

“Well… you never know what life might throw your way, do you?” she said. “Put like that, it almost seems like fate.”

Jaune laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Especially when you consider that…”

She looked at him. “Consider what?”

“Well,” he said, “after a while, when I kept on buying and eating that cereal, my sister Kendal used to tease me that it was because I was in love with the girl on the box.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “Won’t she be surprised, huh?”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she will.”

“When are you two lovebirds planning to leave?” Sunset asked.

Jaune bought himself time by eating some grilled fish. “Not for a little while longer,” he said. “Not for… about another week.”

“I see,” Sunset said. “I’ll give you some time, introduce Pyrrha to your family, have your fun, and then let me know when I can follow you down and research your family history.”

“You’re still going to do that?” Jaune asked.

“Of course I am,” Sunset said. “I made a promise to Lady Nikos. Or don’t you want to find our that you’re really a lord?”

Jaune shook his head. “There’s not a lot of chance of that.”

“You never know,” Sunset said. “Would it bother you, if it turned out that your family was really something special?”

“Everyone’s family is already special, to them,” Ruby said. “Unless… I mean, they should be.”

Sunset smiled. “That’s a very lovely sentiment, Ruby, but you all know what I mean.”

“I don’t think it would make much difference,” Jaune said. “It wouldn’t change who I am, and it wouldn’t change who my family is. Maybe it would change the way some people in Mistral look at me – and look at me for being with Pyrrha – but even then, I’m not so sure. I don’t… I mean, I still wouldn’t have money, or land, or anything else that a real nobleman would have.”

“But you have me,” Pyrrha said, putting a gentle hand upon Jaune’s back. “Something that none of the rest of them possess.”

“No,” Jaune murmured. “No, I guess they don’t.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Jaune… did I… did my picture, really inspire you? I thought that your family-“

“My family lineage… I guess that told me that I could do it, and they left me a weapon to do it with,” Jaune said. “But you… the girl on the cereal box wasn’t always telling me that no, I really couldn’t, or that I shouldn’t bother, or that I didn’t have what it took. You were just always smiling, like you thought I could do it.”

That was very sweet, but it was the first part of what he had said that concerned Pyrrha more, and the first part that made her frown a little beneath her circlet. “Jaune, are you… I mean, do you want to go back and visit your family?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Jaune said, without much conviction. “I promised my mom that I would.”

“That’s not quite what I asked,” Pyrrha said.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her, which wasn’t what she’d asked either. “My family… I can’t stay away from them forever, right?”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I want to do this, Pyrrha,” Jaune declared. “I mean… my parents, my sisters, they aren’t… they weren’t… they’re still my family.”

What does that mean? Pyrrha wanted to ask. Then why do you seem so afraid of them? Nothing that he had said about them was particularly endearing the Arcs to Pyrrha, and she was almost beginning to think that she needed to go with Jaune not to meet his family but to protect him from his family.

But she did not push. She had learnt her lesson from Sunset earlier today; it was clearly not something that Jaune felt particularly comfortable talking about, and she had no desire to make him feel even more uncomfortable now. Not ever, but especially when he had gone to all this trouble for her – for the whole team, but especially for her.

Nevertheless, she was glad that she would be there, just as she was glad that they would eventually be joined by Sunset. If Jaune’s family were what he was implying them to be… Pyrrha would always stand by him, but she was afraid that she would struggle to match Sunset’s aggression in the face of critique.

Sunset seemed to also grasp that Jaune wished to change the subject, at least a little bit, because she said, “Here’s something that I don’t understand about your lovely story, well, actually there are two things, and one of them has bothered me for some time: what were you doing on that cereal box anyway? It hardly seems like the kind of thing that fits your… it hardly seems becoming of a princess of Mistral.”

“I’m a princess without a crown, at best,” Pyrrha reminded her.

Sunset grinned. “Yeah, of course, but you know what I mean. It’s hardly aristocratic, to give out endorsements like that. It’s all just a little bit… commercial.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You’re right of course. It was frightfully commercial. I was very surprised when Mother let me do it.”

“That makes two of us, I must admit,” Sunset muttered.

“It doesn’t seem right, does it?” Pyrrha asked. “Pumpkin Pete hardly seems to belong in the same world as Soteria or the House of Nikos.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Sunset said. “So what happened?”

“Actually, it’s Arslan who deserves the thanks for that,” Pyrrha explained. “I was… I suppose you could say that I was jealous of her philanthropy. I couldn’t get involved in anything like that – I don’t have the standing, I’m too privileged to stand up for the under-privileged – but I envied the way that she was able to do more than just fight for the amusement of the crowds. She was able to make the world a better place, materially affect their lives.” She paused. “Do you know that last year she actually forced the Council to back down?”

“Really?” Ruby asked.

Pyrrha nodded. “The economy has been… well, I don’t really understand the complexities, but it’s been going down for a while. Or it was, I think it’s getting better now, at least that’s what the journalists say. Anyway, it didn’t affect me or my mother, it didn’t really affect most of the great families, but for people lower down the mountain I understand that things got very difficult. Parents having to choose between feeding their children or feeding themselves, that sort of thing. Appalling. Not the sort of thing that I’ve ever had to worry about, not the sort of thing I could do anything about, but Arslan campaigned to have the free school meal entitlement extended, so that many more children would get a meal at school without having to worry about how they could afford it; she used her prestige and her fame to get the public behind her, and the Council, despite having set its face against her demands, yielded.” She paused. “I felt very guilty beating her that year, because I felt that she deserved to win, after her heroic efforts. She was clearly the better person, and if it weren’t for the fact that she would have known I was throwing the fight and never forgiven me I would have, well, I would have thrown the fight. And I felt especially guilty because Lady Ming was very cruel to her after she lost, telling her to focus on punches instead of politics in future.

“I know that you think she’s doing the right thing in becoming a huntress, Ruby, and I do as well, but I do think that the loss of her activism will be a great loss to Mistral. I hope that she can find a way to keep her profile up and continue to support her pet causes as she intends.

“Anyway, I wanted to do something – or to feel as though I was doing something – so I begged my mother to let me do the endorsement when they asked so that I could donate the money to Arslan’s breakfast charity.”

“You could have just asked your mother to donate some money,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know, but it would have been her money then,” Pyrrha explained. “I wanted to give away my money, if that makes any sense.”

“It’s probably a better reason than most people have for endorsing a product like that,” Ruby pronounced.

“But your mother never really warmed to the idea and let the deal lapse, which is why you got taken off the box?” Sunset guessed.

“I’m back at the moment,” Pyrrha said. “There was a time when, yes, Mother wanted to end the arrangement – she’d been on the receiving of sneers in the salons for, as you said, commercialising me and soiling her hands with the pursuit of money – and they took me off the box during negotiations, but eventually…” Pyrrha ventured a smile. “She’ll never admit it, but I think that Mother secretly enjoys the fact that my fame has reached the point where a Remnant-wide brand wants me to sell their product. It’s not a kind of glory that my ancestors would have recognised, you won’t find it in the pages of the Mistraliad, but it is a kind of glory nevertheless.”

Sunset chuckled. “You might be right about that, but Jaune, that’s why you shouldn’t get too hung up on the fact that you’ll still have no money even if you turn out to have class. Yes, money is important, but equally important is where the money does or doesn’t come from. The fact that you don’t have money will not be nearly as bad as if you’d made money in trade.”

“That sounds kind of dumb,” Ruby said.

“It’s not about wisdom, it’s about standards,” Sunset declared. “Gentlemen – or gentlemares, for that matter – do not do anything so sordid as to work for a living.”

Ruby’s silver eyes narrowed. “No, it still sounds dumb.”

Ruby’s scroll went off before Sunset could reply. Ruby fished it out of one of the pouches on her belt, opening it up to see who it was. “Oh, it’s Juturna.”

“Speaking of Mistralian aristocracy,” Sunset muttered.

Ruby looked around the room. “Do you want me to tell her it’s not a good time? Or I could just not answer?”

“That would be rather rude of you,” Pyrrha pointed out. “And I’ve no problem with you answering, provided that she doesn’t want to speak privately.”

“No, I’m fine too,” Jaune said.

“Same here,” Sunset said. “Answer if you want to talk to her.” She started to dig into her meal.

“I’m a little confused by how it can possibly be a good time for Juturna, though,” Pyrrha said. “It’s the middle of the night in Mistral.”

Ruby shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.” She pressed the green button to take the call. “Hey, Juturna.”

“Ruby!” Juturna cried. “I knew you’d still be awake.”

“Yeah, it’s not even eight o’clock here in Vale,” Ruby replied. “What time is it in Mistral?”

“It’s… gone midnight,” Juturna said. “But I can’t sleep, and I’m bored of lying here in bed, so it was either call you or use my semblance to sneak out of the house and go to a club. And I might still do that, but I thought I’d talk to you first because Camilla won’t be mad at me for it.”

Ruby laughed. “Uh, the rest of my team is here and they can here everything, is that okay?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “That’s the chick with the sword, right?”

“Good evening, Lady Juturna,” Sunset said, hastily swallowing some courgette fritter. “Or should be that be good night?”

Juturna sniggered. “’Good evening, Lady Juturna’,” she repeated, in an exaggerated tone. “Well, aren’t you fancy? Did you decide to start talking like that after Lady Nikos gave you the sword or did she give you Soteria because you had the right voice for it?”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “I scarcely know what my lady means.”

“I mean not even my brother and Camilla talk like that, at least not all the time, and certainly not in the house,” Juturna said. “Hey, Ruby, if your team is here does that mean Pyrrha and her boyfriend are here too?”

“Hello, Juturna,” Pyrrha said.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Juturna called. “Are you still dating the upstart?”

“His name is Jaune,” Pyrrha said frostily. “But yes.”

“Don’t blame me, it’s what Turnus calls him,” Juturna said. “Anyway, the point is, good job! Keep doing that! Rooting for you guys! So, Ruby… hey, weren’t you in a coma?”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Y-yeah, yeah I was. How did you hear about that?”

“Camilla told me,” Juturna said. “She heard it from Lady Nikos. So what happened?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Ruby said, trying a little too hard to sound casual. “I got into a fight, and ended up getting knocked out.”

“Must have been quite a knock,” Juturna said. “But you’re okay now, right? What am I saying, of course you are, we wouldn’t be talking otherwise. Which we are, which is good! Anyway, you should take care of yourself.”

“So everyone tells me,” Ruby sighed resignedly.

Juturna cackled. “Yeah, I’ll bet. Let me guess, is Pyrrha mothering you?”

“Pyrrha isn’t the worst,” Ruby said, with a glance at Sunset, who responded by rolling her eyes.

“Oh, it’s the sword girl, Sunset, right? Yeah, I know exactly how you feel, believe me, I have a big brother and Camilla, who is even worse, so I get it, I really do. But all the same, you should still be careful, it’s so not worth it.”

Ruby blinked. “What isn’t worth it?”

“You know, dying,” Juturna said. “What were even fighting about?”

“I was trying to protect people,” Ruby said. “We all were.”

“Well, they’re not worth it, either,” Juturna said dismissively.

Ruby’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean they’re not worth it?” she demanded. “Who isn’t?”

“You know… people,” Juturna said.

Ruby gasped. “That… that’s a terrible thing to say!” she exclaimed. “Juturna, that’s awful!”

Pyrrha had to admit, she was rather surprised herself. It was… it was not the sort of thing one was expected to say, even if you believed it, and it was not the sort of thing that you were expected to believe, either. It was certainly antithetical to the ideals of nobility – the good lord, the shepherd of the people, the benevolent source of authority and justice – but even though those ideals may have become tarnished by the years, she liked to think that they had not degraded into outright callousness such as Juturna was giving voice to. She liked to think that some semblance of the ideals of public service and duty yet remained.

“You’re not going to get all high and mighty on me, are you?” Juturna asked, with a touch of boredom creeping into her voice.

“Yes, if I have to!” Ruby cried. “I don’t understand how you can say something like that-“

“I can say something like that because my father dedicated his life to protecting and serving the people and when he was murdered in the street none of those people so much as blinked!” Juturna snapped. “That’s how I can say that they’re not worth it.”

Silence descended on the dorm room. Pyrrha, for one, didn’t know what to say. Juturna’s views were, objectively, not particularly pleasant, but at the same time… it was hard to judge her for it, considering where they came from. What had happened to old Lord Rutulus, what had been done to him… it had shamed all Mistral, and the shame had been compounded by how little had been done about it until after Camilla had done the hard work. Yes, the city authorities, the Council and the great families, had acted to make sure that no one would rise up to replace the slain kingpin and his associates, Lady Terri-Belle had mopped up the residuum of Camilla’s vengeance and driven crime back into the lower slopes, but… the fact is it had taken Camilla to make that first and bloody step.

She was not great friends of the Rutulians, but that their family had been wronged by Mistral was… undeniable.

“Juturna,” Ruby said, her voice softening, losing some of its judgement. “I’m sorry, about your father, I really am, but… but that doesn’t mean that… they’re still people. They still… they’re still lives, human lives. They still matter.”

“Do you think they’ll give a damn about you if you die for them?” Juturna asked. “Do you think they’ll know you existed?”

“I don’t care,” Ruby said, solemnly and – Pyrrha believed – utterly sincerely. “I don’t care if they know my name, or not; I don’t care if they care that I died, or why; I don’t care about recognition or glory or any of the rest of it. Their lives matter.”

“And what about your life?” Juturna asked.

Ruby smiled. “Now you really do sound like Sunset.”

“And you sound like…” Juturna trailed off. “I don’t know who you sound like. I should say that you sound like Turnus or Camilla but the truth is you don’t. Turnus would never say anything so… that.” She chuckled, although it was a slightly choked chuckle, as though she might have tears in her eyes as she laughed. It was impossible to say from where Pyrrha was sitting. “Turnus would never say he didn’t care about the recognition or the glory. I mean, he doesn’t care about the money – and after all, it would be really dumb to do this for the money considering how rich we are – sometimes he does pro bono work for villages that can’t afford to pay for protection, but he wants you to know, he wants everyone to know that he’s doing it. I think he likes the fact that people come to him for help, it makes him feel… I don’t know, makes him feel like a lord, I guess? Or perhaps he just likes the fact that some people trust him more than huntsmen. Camilla… actually, I don’t know, Camilla might say something like that. She’s probably the closest thing to a real hero in this house. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, and I’ve known Lausus since we were kids and Nisus is like, really hot, and they’re all brave and strong and all the rest of it but Camilla… Camilla is the proper old fashioned real deal. Kind of funny considering that she doesn’t come from any kind of a family, right?” she snorted. “But even she, she doesn’t fight for people, she fights for us. So congratulations, Ruby Rose, you might just be the most heroic person I know!” she paused. “You don’t think I’m a bad person, do you?”

Ruby hesitated. “No,” she murmured. “No, I don’t. I think you’re wrong, but I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” Juturna said. “You’ve got a sister, right?”

“Yeah,” Ruby replied. “An older sister, Yang.”

“Do you love her?”

“A lot, yeah,” Ruby said.

“I love Turnus,” Juturna said. “And I love Camilla. And it doesn’t matter that they keep tabs on me, or scare off my boyfriends, or don’t let me to places, none of that changes the fact that… they’re everything to me. They are the we of me, and I just want good things for them. I want all the good things in the world for them. And I don’t want to see them die for… I don’t want to see them die. I’m allowed to think that, right? I’m allowed to say that? I’m allowed to say ‘I do not care as much about you as I do about my brother?’ That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”

“Not as long as you just think it,” Ruby said. “And don’t try to stop people who feel differently.”

“Fat chance of that,” Juturna murmured. She groaned. “Ugh, this killed the mood, didn’t it? I’m so tired. Is there any way that we can maybe pretend that this was all just a bad dream on my part, or that I was talking nonsense because it’s so late where I am and you agree to just forget about it?”

Ruby giggled. “Sure, I can forget it. I didn’t catch what you just said, can you repeat it?”

“Better not,” Juturna replied. She sighed. “I’m going to let you go, before I say something you won’t forget.”

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked. “We could play some videogames?”

“Maybe later, call me tomorrow,” Juturna said. “Assuming you’re not mad at me then.”

“What do I have to be mad at you about?” Ruby asked.

“That’s the spirit,” Juturna muttered. “Night, Ruby, I’m glad you’re up.”

“Night Juturna,” Ruby said. “Sleep well.” She hung up.

“That was very kind and understanding of you,” Pyrrha said.

“You sound surprised,” Ruby said.

“You can be a little… strident, in your views,” Sunset pointed out.

“I guess,” Ruby said, with a slight wince. “But it’s different for Juturna. She’s not a huntress, she’s not a mercenary like her brother or Camilla, it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t get what we do because she isn’t doing it. If I get mad at you sometimes, Sunset, if I… if I’m loud it’s because what we do has real consequences. People can live or die because of it. That’s not true for Juturna, so she can think what she wants. I mean, if she started talking like that all the time then I’d have a problem with it, but it’s late and she was tired and… it’s not how Yang or me reacted after Mom died but I can see how she got that way. I feel sorry for her more than I feel angry. She doesn’t… she doesn’t really have anything to aim for, to strive for.”

“She has her family,” Sunset said, “isn’t that enough?”

Ruby shook her head. “You can’t live on love alone, you need a final goal, something to keep working for. Otherwise… that’s how you end up lying awake at night, calling people on the other side of the world.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured, looking down at the remains of the food on her plate.

There was a knock on the dorm room door.

“I’ll get it,” Sunset said, putting her plate down on the table behind her and getting up off her chair, walking briskly over to the door. She opened it, and then stepped back, her whole body tensing. “Skystar?”

“Hey,” Skystar said softly. She was wearing a navy blue parka, which covered her up down to the hem of her purple, knee-length skirt, which was all the rest that could be seen of what she was wearing save for her bare legs and brown boots. She stuck her head around the door. “Hey guys, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

She might have been, but after Juturna’s interruption it hardly seemed fair or polite to make a fuss about it. “Not at all,” Pyrrha said. “Please, come in. Would you like something to eat?”

“Are you sure?” Skystar said, as Sunset retreated to admit her into the dorm room. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“There’s plenty to go around,” Jaune said, with a smile. “I probably made a little too much. I hope you like Mistralian food.”

Skystar smiled. “Oh, I do.” She walked across the room and sat down beside Ruby on her bed. With one hand, she reached out towards some of the grilled fish. “May I?”

“Please,” Jaune said.

“Thank you,” Skystar replied, helping herself. “When my family took a trip to Mistral for the Vytal Festival – ooh, is that tarasamalata?”

“It is,” Pyrrha confirmed.

“Awesome!” Skystar spooned some of it onto her fish, then ate some, and promptly began to talk with her mouthful. “Yes, when my family took a trip to Mistral for the Vytal Festival, Dad wanted to not just fly to Mistral, but to land on the coast and actually take the long way, really make a trip of it, you know. So, although we flew, we only flew as far as Piraeus on the west coast, and we found this delightful seaside taverna and we ate like the ancients did. Like people have done for hundreds, thousands of years. I think that’s part of what’s so great about Mistral, even the food has a sense of history to it. And this food is really good, did you cook this yourselves?”

“Jaune did all of the cooking,” Pyrrha said, unable to keep a touch of pride out of her voice.

“You’re in the wrong job,” Skystar said. “But you’re in the job you want, so don’t mind me.” She paused. “I did actually come here for a reason, not just to steal your food.”

“What reason?” Sunset asked softly, as she sat down.

“I was thinking about what you said,” Skystar said. “About the Vytal Festival, and about giving people a reason to care about it, and about the fact that we need to celebrate in times of trouble.”

“You’re still taking my advice?” Sunset asked.

“Why shouldn’t she?” asked Ruby.

“Well…” Sunset shrugged. “I, uh-“

“Sunset wondered if I’d care, now that my mother has been replaced,” Skystar said. “But Councillor Emerald asked me to stay on as Amity Princess, and I still want to make the Vytal Festival a success, for Vale, and for Mom and… and for Dad, too. But we can’t just pretend the Breach didn’t happen, so I thought that the first step would be to have a proper memorial to honour the dead… and then to have a wake, to celebrate their lives. Because this Vytal Festival is going to be dedicated to them. We’re not just celebrating the end of the Great War and the beginnings of the era of peace, we’re going to be defying everyone who thought that they could break that peace, and celebrating the fact that we’re still here, with the bonds between us as strong as ever. We’re going to celebrate the fact that Atlas and Mistral stood with us to defend Vale, and we’re going to celebrate the huntsmen and huntresses who protected this city by cheering them on in the tournament. We can’t make people forget the Breach but we can show them that it makes the Vytal Festival more important, not less. But first we have to banish our sorrows, and I think we do that by saying goodbye to those we lost – and then celebrating their lives.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Pyrrha said. “But why are you telling us?”

“Because I want you to be there,” Skystar said. “Partly, I have to admit, because you’re the heroes of the Breach and if you’re going it will attract interest, but also because… well, I suppose I wondered if you might need this too.” She looked at Sunset. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you down there. You’re all my age and you’ve already faced so much, stared death in the face.” She looked at Pyrrha, then at Jaune and Ruby. “It makes me kind of ashamed of myself.”

“There’s no need for that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Not everyone has to be a huntress,” Ruby assured her. “Not everyone wants to be and not everyone should be. We each have our own ways of helping people, and being a huntress is just one of them.”

Skystar smiled down at her. “I won’t ask if it was bad. Partly because if it was really bad you wouldn’t want to talk about it but also because… because I kind of know the answer already.” She glanced at Sunset again. Had Sunset been talking to her? Pyrrha felt a twinge of jealous irritation that Sunset might confide in Skystar but not in her own teammates.

Perhaps she’s afraid that we have enough on our shoulders.

Sunset, you really should know better.

“Anyway, the point is that I think this might help you as much as anyone,” Skystar said. “Help you move on.”

“That,” Sunset said hoarsely, blinking rapidly. “That is very kind of you. That is… very kind. I… I don’t know what else to…”

“Sunset’s right,” Pyrrha said. “It is kind, and a good idea too. I, for one, would be honoured to attend.”

“Me too,” Jaune said.

“And me,” Ruby added.

Sunset gave a silent nod of her head.

Skystar smiled, and as she helped herself to some of the moussaka Pyrrha couldn’t help ponder one question: what did she know that they didn’t?

Author's Note

This chapter owes a lot to the story Cereal Experiments Jaune from the JNPR manga anthology; my opinions on the anthology are mixed, but this particular story is just lovely, and with some gorgeous artwork as well.

Pro Bono (New)

Pro Bono

The office of Turnus Rutulus was vaguely modelled after that of Mister Schnee in Atlas; on the back wall, there hung a large portrait of Turnus’ late father, wearing the green dress uniform of the Commissioner of the Imperial Police, seeming to look down on Turnus as he sat at his desk.

He could feel his father’s eyes on the back of his neck as he worked; it kept him honest, in his human dealings, if not financially.

The room was almost fully enclosed, with only very small windows near the ceiling admitting any kind of natural light, most of the light coming from the chandelier that hung from the centre of the ceiling. One wall was completely covered in book shelves lined with books, many of which Turnus had not, admittedly, gotten around to reading yet, while on the other wall hung his spear, his sword, his father’s dress sword in its ceremonial scabbard, his great grandfather’s pearl-handled duelling pistols, and an antique rifle of Great War vintage that he had acquired at auction.

A tiger-striped rug — not a tiger skin, although some visitors made that mistake; in actual fact, Turnus donated to conservation efforts — sat on the floor.

Turnus himself sat behind his desk, which was a sturdy affair of ancient oak. Family photographs sat upon the desk: his father and himself standing on either side of his mother, who was looking very tired and wan, but endeavouring to smile nonetheless, as she cradled the infant Juturna in her arms; Juturna sitting on their father’s lap while Turnus and Camilla stood on either side of him — you could see Turnus reaching out to hold Camilla in place as she kept trying to sidle out of view of the camera, unsure that she deserved to be there; a photograph that Father had taken of the three of them on one of their camping trips, seated around the fire; a more recent picture of the three of them at Juturna’s sixteenth birthday party, where Juturna wore one of Mother’s tiaras and Camilla wore a blood red dress; the only picture that did not feature Juturna in some way was the company photograph of Turnus in the midst of his men, armed, ready, and eager.

They were a reminder of what he worked for — even the picture that also reminded him of what he had to work with.

Right now, however, he had a different kind of work to do.

Turnus switched on the computer on his desk; the holographic screen stirred to life, and for a moment, Turnus was treated to a reflection of his own face, blue eyes and black hair streaked with red, before the light green default screen obscured the sight.

Turnus checked the time; it would hardly do to call Cala up at an unsociable hour for her, but thankfully, it would not be so in Atlas.

And so he called her, settling back a little in his chair as he waited for her to respond. He did not have to wait too long before he got a response, and the face of Cala appeared on his screen.

Cala Ferny-Brown was a woman exiting her youth, although new motherhood probably had more to do with the bags under her hazel eyes than any set number of years; her hair was calico, and it fell in gentle curls around her round face.

Cala’s sister had been his commander during the brief time when he had worked for SDC Security, and Cala herself was a mid-level executive within the Schnee Dust Company; she was not that much older than he was, but she had seemed to feel the need to mother him while he was in Atlas — all the more so when she found out that his mother was dead — with invitations to dinner and offers of a place to stay and the like.

He had been in Atlas when he got the news that his father had been murdered, and Cala had stayed up all night with him, sharing wine and listening to him ramble on about his family.

Turnus had kept in touch after returning home to Mistral, partly because a contact in the SDC was useful to him, but also simply because of her kindness, which did not deserve to be forgotten.

“Turnus!” she said, smiling at him. “Hey!”

Turnus smiled. “Good morning, Cala. I hope I didn’t interrupt breakfast.”

“No, just the washing up,” she said. “How are things? How’s Juturna?”

“Juturna is Juturna, as always,” Turnus said. “Things are … well enough, all things considered.”

“That sounds qualified,” Cala said.

“Nothing to concern you with,” Turnus said. “I’m well, my family is well, Mistral is complicated, but then, it almost always is. How about you?”

“Do I look exhausted?” Cala asked.

“A little, yes.”

“Then I look how I feel, except maybe worse if I only look a little exhausted,” Call grumbled.

Turnus chuckled. “Your daughter is keeping you up.”

“I hope I didn’t scream this much when I was a baby, or I’ll have to apologise to my parents,” Cala said. “Calliope swears she never cried at all.”

“From her, I could believe that,” Turnus replied. “Still, her little namesake is healthy, I trust?”

“I’d hope so, with those lungs,” Cala said. “Still, I’ve managed to get her to sleep for the moment; I just hope she doesn’t wake up for a little while.”

“But you’re happy?” Turnus said.

Cala laughed softly. “Sometimes, it’s a dream come true; sometimes, it’s a lot of work; and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” She beamed. “All this, you’ve got to look forward to.”

“Steady on,” Turnus replied. “I should probably get a wife before I start thinking about children.”

“That might be easier if you actually went out and tried seeing people,” Cala informed him. “Don’t you think there’s something very old-fashioned about a political marriage?”

“This is an old-fashioned city,” Turnus reminded. “Mistral is not Atlas.”

“I remember you used to complain that Mistral could stand to be more like Atlas,” Cala reminded him.

“And I still believe that,” Turnus said. “However, I doubt that Mister Schnee will allow his children to simply marry anyone they set their eyes upon; he will ensure proper unions to men and women of quality which will strengthen his family; as the head of my house, it falls to me to do the same.”

“So … what?” Cala asked. “You’re going to corral some Atlesian heiress to marry you, trading her daddy’s money for a Mistralian title?”

“I … have my sights set a little closer to home,” Turnus said.

“Is that how your parents married?” inquired Cala.

Turnus sighed. “My father was … an unconventional man, in some respects.”

“But they were happy, weren’t they?” Cala said. “You told me that.”

“They were very happy, yes, in the time that was allowed to them,” Turnus murmured, glancing at the picture of his mother on his desk; it was not a particularly good picture of her, but none of the other pictures of Mother had Juturna in them, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. “But there are times when we must look beyond our own happiness and think of the good of the family, and of Mistral.”

“If you say so,” Cala said. “But I’ll stop mothering you for now, since I’m sure you didn’t call in order for me to dictate your love life to you.”

“I would be happy to hear more of it,” Turnus assured her. “But yes, this is a business call. I’m looking to buy some androids.”

Cala frowned slightly. “You know, you could just call our sales hotline for that.”

“I’m looking to buy a lot of androids.”

“A bold new direction for your security business?”

“No, this isn’t for me; it’s for Mistral,” Turnus said. “The Council has decided to start taking the security of this city seriously and has asked me to deal with the purchase, since I have contacts.” He smiled.

Cala snorted. “I’m delighted to be the instrument of your political rise.”

Turnus chuckled. “Cala, I’m sure this transaction will be profitable for both of us.”

“I hope so,” Cala said. “But why is the Mistral Council looking to buy combat androids? Mistral doesn’t even have an army.”

“That may be changing soon too, thanks to events in Vale,” Turnus said.

“The Breach, of course,” Cala murmured. “I could hardly believe it when I saw it on the news. Can you imagine grimm getting into your city?”

“You’d be alright; you live on a floating city,” Turnus pointed out.

“And some grimm fly,” Cala said. “You know, I have sometimes complained about how much of my paycheck the government takes in taxes, but when I watched the news about what was happening in Vale, and then I went to the window and I saw a cruiser hovering in the sky outside … it made me feel a hell of a lot better.”

Turnus was silent for a moment. “You … you’re very lucky,” he said softly.

“Did I also come off as really insensitive?” Cala asked.

“No,” Turnus said immediately. “But … where were you, when it happened?”

“At work,” Cala said. “Not that we ended up getting much work done; everyone in the office was just watching the news or checking up on people they knew in Vale.”

“That was largely what happened here as well,” Turnus said. “Myself, Camilla, Lausus, Mezentius, all my people crowded into the sitting room watching TV. The Valish were very lucky that General Ironwood was there, and all his forces too. Without them … I couldn’t sleep that night.”

“No?”

“No,” Turnus confirmed. “I got up, and I walked down the corridor to Juturna’s room, and I found Camilla sleeping in front of the door, like she used to when we were children, before Father put a stop to it.”

“Sounds cute,” Cala said. “What did you do?”

I laid a blanket over Camilla, then sat down beside her and brooded on how this kingdom needs better leadership and a new direction. “I let them sleep,” Turnus said. “But the point is that, for eighty years since the Great War, this country has had its head in the clouds when it comes to security. We cannot afford to rely on a comparative handful of huntsmen to defend even a city as large as ours, let alone the rest of our territory.”

And the worst part was that everyone knew exactly why Mistral had reached this point. Before the Great War, even though to raise a great army required a levy of the Emperor’s subjects, military muscle for more everyday purposes had been provided by the great houses, each of whom retained a retinue of armed men at their own expense, but who could be commanded to contribute that retinue to the common defence — or the common attack — by the Emperor, in the event that the Emperor’s own retainers proved insufficient to the task. Most of the time, such an army, a retinue of retinues, was able to provide all the strength required to defend Mistral without the need for a general levy. But, for all that they claimed to have saved Mistral from the faunus after the Revolution, the House of Thrax did not enjoy the same legitimacy that the House of Nikos had done when they sat the throne; stewards did not sit so easily upon the highest seat as emperors had done. The stewards did not feel safe with large numbers of armed men in the service of rival houses.

Turnus had to keep his own forces fairly small - and fairly weak, at that, without any spider droids or other purchased Atlesian firepower - or he would draw the wrath of the stewards upon him.

Not that he would object to seizing the reins of power himself — he felt as if he could hardly do a worse job, and gods knew that this kingdom needed someone to shake it up, ideally someone who understood that what they really needed to do was look north for inspiration to Atlas, which had undoubtedly made a success of itself following the Great War in ways that Mistral had not — but there were two very good reasons not to do it.

The first was the purely pragmatic reason: anyone who overthrew the stewards and seized power by force would have an even bigger legitimacy problem than the House of Thrax; it would be a declaration that power was to be held not through right, or even by election, but by the point of a sword, and that would be chaos.

The other reason, in some ways an even more important reason, was the very reason why he could do it: all those men and women in the last picture on his desk. Rutulian Security was not a vast organisation, with some forty men here in the city and about the same again in various provincial sub-offices for assignments out of range of Mistral, but they were well-trained, well-equipped, and very brave. Lausus, Mezentius, Nisus, Euryalus, Ufens, Murranus, they would all do anything he asked of them, anything at all, even overthrow the government.

Which was, paradoxically, even more reason for him not to do it. They placed their lives in his hands, and that laid upon him an obligation to take care of them. The fact that they would die for him if he asked it meant that he had to do everything he could to preserve their lives.

And that was before one considered what his pursuit of his ambitions might do to Juturna.

No, he was not the sort of man to carry out a coup.

Although it had occurred to him that if things got much worse, then he might find the situation fertile grounds for a change in the way that Mistral was governed without the need for civil violence.

It had also occurred to him that if things got much worse, he — along with everyone else — might have bigger problems than his own advancement or a disagreement with some of the Council’s policy decisions.

Which was why he was buying androids to defend Mistral and why he hoped that the Council adopted Lady Ming and Ms. Yeoh’s militarization proposals. Yes, it was not the old way, and he would rather that the old liberty had been given to raise forces without suspicion, but more defences for Mistral, of any kind, were always a good thing.

“I can’t really argue with that,” Cala said. “So, I take it that, since you’re buying on behalf of Mistral, your pockets are basically bottomless, yes?”

Turnus raised his eyebrows. “Are you planning to overcharge me, Cala?”

Cala laughed lightly. “No. It’s more that … I probably shouldn’t be selling you this, because our contract with the military stipulates that we shouldn’t be selling them to third party clients until we’ve completed the military rollout, but as we’re friends, I could get you some of our AK-200 Knight models.”

Turnus leaned forwards. “New models? Are they an improvement on the 130?”

“I’m not a military person or a security expert, but my loyalty to the company demands that I answer ‘yes,’” Cala said. “For what it’s worth, the military is adopting them; they’re being rolled out to all units and bases even as we speak; the older models are being put on the scrap heap. But I can always send you some promotional literature, if you like?”

“Thank you, but I think I would be remiss not to take the opportunity to get the latest technology for Mistral,” Turnus said. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?”

“I don’t see how the military would actually find out about it,” Cala said. “And Mister Schnee isn’t likely to object to a sale. For a large order, I might even get a bonus.”

“Speaking of which, I don’t suppose there are any additional prizes you could throw in, besides these Knights?” Turnus said. “You know, as we’re friends.”

“Well, as you know, our spider droids come in a large variety of customisable options with different weapons systems mounted—”

“Is there a new version of them in production?” Turnus asked.

“No,” Cala said. “But perhaps I might, just might, be able to get you some automated models of our other military co-production, the AP-290 Paladin.”

She reached forwards and must have tapped some buttons on her screen, because her image shrank as one corner of Turnus’ screen became taken up with an image of a bipedal mech, solidly built, with a large, boxy cockpit — or body, since Cala had mentioned it was automated — and two relatively spindly arms that seemed to have modular weapons systems built into them.

“Impressive,” Turnus said. “How much money per unit are we talking about?”

“For the Knights, we’re planning to retail them privately at four thousand lien a unit,” Cala said. “That includes a rifle for each android, but ammunition sold separately.”

“Not bad,” Turnus said. “Not bad at all. Put … twenty magazines per android on the invoice as well. As for the price of the knights … What say we make it forty-one hundred a unit to the Mistral Council, and you and I split the excess?”

Cala gasped. “That’s—”

“The way that business is done in Mistral,” Turnus informed her. “You could buy yourself something nice, take a holiday — Mistral is a very pleasant place to visit any time of year, and I’d love to have your family as my guests. And you won’t have defrauded the SDC out of a single lien.”

“You’ll have defrauded the Council,” Cala pointed out.

“If anyone finds out, I shall say that I had to pay extra to get early access,” Turnus said.

Cala frowned slightly. “Fifty-fifty split?”

“Call it sixty-forty, in your favour,” Turnus said genially. “And put us down for … five thousand Knights, and I’ll get back to you with how many spider droids and Paladins we require.”

“Five thousand?”

“Our need is great,” Turnus said.

“You might have to accept delivery in instalments,” Cala said. “Those volumes … we can’t slow down the military deliveries enough that it's noticeable. It won’t matter how many sales I’ve brought in if I get the SDC sued for breach of contract.”

“Instalments will be fine, I’m sure,” Turnus said. “We have survived this long; I’m sure that we can make it a little longer.”

“Okay then,” Cala said. “I will process that order and wait for your details on the—“

She was interrupted by the sound of a baby crying somewhere else in the house.

Cala sighed. “I have to go. I’ll process your order when I’ve got her back to sleep, okay?”

Turnus chuckled. “Of course. This was a pleasure.”

“Same here,” Cala said. “Speak again soon!” She hung up.

Turnus sat back in his chair. That wasn’t bad for a morning’s work, was it?

He was about to get up and go down to the kitchen for some breakfast when his screen flashed with an indicator of an incoming call. The number belonged to Countess Coloratura, a singer and the vanguard of the Atlesian invasion that was taking over the Mistral music scene. Atlesian popstars were big in Mistral at the moment — Weiss Schnee was almost as popular as Pyrrha Nikos, and Sapphire Shores had sold out the Colosseum when she played there during her Anima tour — but Countess Coloratura had taken things one step further by actually staying in Mistral, finding it a more congenial home than her native Atlas. It had been interesting to watch her style evolve over the two years that she’d been here, combining her Atlesian techno-pop aesthetic with more traditional Mistralian music and rhythm.

He answered the call and was greeted by the pretty face of the Countess herself. Her hair was a lilac so pale that it was almost — but not quite — white, with a streak of deep purple running down it, and so long that, even bound in a ponytail, it reached down to her ankles. Her eyes were a brilliant opal and accentuated with heavy eyeshadow. She was wearing several necklaces, including a set of opals upon a black choker.

Turnus bowed his head. “My lady.”

Coloratura laughed. “Turnus, please. We both know that that is just a stage name.”

“But an apropos one, in this city,” Turnus said.

“Well, it was a good choice by Svengallop,” Coloratura conceded. “Anyway, how are you? How’s Juturna?”

“Well and very well; she’s looking forward to your next concert,” Turnus said. “And yourself?”

Coloratura winced. “I’ve been better. To be honest, this isn’t a social call.”

“You need security?” Turnus asked.

Coloratura hesitated for a moment. “I’ve been … getting these messages. There are always fans who get a bit obsessive; most of them are harmless, but these … these ones were really creepy. And I’ve been getting these flowers with no name or address, and … the last messages I got last night … he described the bathing suit that I wore in the pool the night before.”

“Have you spoken to the police?” Turnus asked.

“Yes, but they say there isn’t much to go on,” Coloratura said. “I just want someone around I can rely on.”

“Of course,” Turnus said. “I’ll send a couple of my best people around right away.”

Coloratura sighed with relief. “Thank you. I feel safer already. And don’t worry about the cost; whatever it is, I can pay it.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to worry about that either; I’ll send you the bill once the matter’s been settled,” Turnus said. “Just sit tight for now, lock the doors; my people will be there soon.”

“Thanks, Turnus,” Coloratura said. “I knew I could count on you.”

Turnus hung up, and now he did get up from his chair and walk briskly out of his study.

The House of Rutulus was a fairly typical Mistralian mansion, if a little less populated in terms of servants; an android was dusting one of the antique vases in the corridor beyond the study door, because while Turnus kept plenty of men under arms, he did not also maintain a large staff to cook his meals or clean his home — apart from anything else, the servants’ quarters now housed his troops. Turnus walked past the android without acknowledging it and reached one of the back staircases, descending down to the old servants’ quarters on the ground floor.

“Opis?” Turnus called, as he walked down the corridor. “Falco?”

“Yes, my lord?” Opis was the first to answer, emerging from out of her room in response to his call. She was a tall woman of about Turnus’ own age, with a rangy build and jet black hair combed over onto the left-hand side of her face. Her ears were covered in piercings — there was one in her nose as well — and her arms in dark tattoos that swirled around her skin.

“You called, my lord?” Falco murmured as he came out of the break room. He was an older man, his dark hair turning grey and his skin giving way to wrinkles, yet his dark brown eyes were as sharp as ever. He was almost unique amongst the Rutulians in that he was not, first and foremost, a warrior; rather, he was an ex-detective that Turnus employed for his investigative skills.

“Yes, I did, for both of you,” Turnus said. “Some freak is harassing Coloratura, and she has requested our protection. So, Opis, I want you to take Lyce and get yourselves down to her house immediately and guard her until the matter is concluded.”

Opis raised one eyebrow. “Two people to guard against one deranged fan, my lord?”

“She’s a valued client,” Turnus said. “And a friend. And we have a reputation for going above and beyond. Which is why, Falco, I want you to speak to Countess Coloratura, look at the evidence and see if you can find out who is disturbing her. Get Cadmilus to help you with the computer side of things if you need it. The police are looking into this as well, but if we can close the case for them, it will be a feather in our caps — and the quicker we put this to bed, the happier I and Coloratura will be.”

Falco bowed his head. “Of course, my lord.”

“As you will, my lord,” Opis said. “We’ll leave as soon as we are armed.”

“Good luck,” Turnus said.

Opis smirked. “Don’t need luck for this, my lord, but thank you anyway.”

His orders thus given, Turnus made his way to the family kitchen on the ground floor. It was a private space, a room that he had remodelled in the Atlesian fashion, somewhere he could eat on his own or with his family without the absurdity of sitting in the cavernous dining hall. The walls were covered in tiles of a cool blue, the floor was pristine and white, and the worksurfaces and the top of the central island were all a sleek, modern black.

Camilla was already there, sitting at the central island, dressed in a white robe, with a glass of grapefruit juice and a bowl of fruit and yogurt sitting in front of her.

“Good morning,” Turnus said, as he walked in.

Camilla smiled at him. “Morning,” she said softly, taking a sip from her glass of juice. “How did it go with Cala?”

“Very well,” Turnus said, walking to the drinks cooler and opening it up to pull out a carton of orange juice. “The SDC is rolling out a new model of android.”

“Indeed?” Camilla murmured. “Are they for sale?”

“They are if you're friends with an executive at the SDC,” Turnus replied as he opened the white door of a cupboard above his head and got himself a glass. “I think that, when the order is completed, Mistral will be pleased with what I’ve acquired for it.”

“And yet, still only androids,” Camilla said softly.

“I know what you mean,” Turnus muttered, pouring himself a glass of juice and putting the cartoon back in the cooler. He turned around to face Camilla, seated on the other side of the island from himself, holding the glass of cool juice in his hand. “Hardly a substitute for a trained man with their aura unlocked. And yet, in numbers … let’s face it, anything would be better than what we have now.”

Camilla blinked, her vulpine ears drooping a little. “You’re right, of course.” Her brow furrowed. “We should not be selling those warships to the Valish. At least not until we have taken delivery of whatever we mean to replace them with.”

“Hmm,” Turnus murmured. “But then, Lord Diomedes and the Council have never prioritised the defence of this kingdom over other considerations, so why expect them to start now?”

Camilla was silent for a moment. “Have you ever thought about running for the Council yourself?”

Turnus snorted. “Me? Stand for the Council?”

“Other lords and ladies have and do,” Camilla pointed out. “Lady Ming serves; Lady Nikos served at one time.”

“I don’t know how they stand or stood it,” Turnus said. “You would have me go around grubbing for votes, making promises that I couldn’t keep even if I wanted to?”

“You are a good man,” Camilla said. “This kingdom needs good men.”

“This kingdom has relied on good men for too long,” Turnus declared. “Good men like my father, struggling to do what is right for Mistral in spite of everything. And what was his reward? What is the reward for good men? Death, to be used up and spat out without regard or regret. I say again, Mistral has relied on good men to paper over its weaknesses for too long; we need better systems now, and we need leadership.”

“Where will this leadership come if men like you refuse to provide it?” Camilla asked.

Turnus was silent for a moment. “Is this really what you think I should do?”

“It is not for me to tell you what you should or should not do,” Camilla said quietly. “But you will make no change by complaining to me, however much I agree with you.”

“You have a point,” Turnus conceded. “But politics is not for me.” He drank some of his juice. It was cold and just a little tangy. “Perhaps I will put Lausus up for the Council, if he is amenable.”

“Hey, guys,” Juturna said, as she walked into the room wearing a Weiss Schnee-branded t-shirt and a pair of black leather pants. “What…” She yawned, raising her arms up into the air. “What’s up?”

“Good morning,” Camilla greeted her. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really,” Juturna grumbled as she walked around the island to a cupboard on the far side of the kitchen. She tried, but failed, to reach for one of the cupboards. She turned around to give Turnus an exasperated gaze. “You had this place remodelled. It’s not as if this room has been like this for five hundred years or something; you made it this way, so would it have killed you to remember that we aren’t all six foot something freaks like you two?”

Camilla started to get up. “Do you want me to—?“

“No,” Juturna said firmly. “No, I’ll get it.” She grabbed a stool from the island and carried it across the kitchenette, standing on it to reach the unit above that had eluded her before.

Turnus smirked. “Perhaps I just like watching you struggle a little bit?”

“Best big brother ever,” Juturna muttered, grabbing a box of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes and hopping down off the stool. She ostentatiously looked at the picture of Pyrrha on the box. “Hey, look who it is, bro: it’s the girl who chose some Valish nobody over you!”

Turnus growled wordlessly. Juturna stuck out her tongue at him.

“Aren’t you a little old to be eating that?” Camilla said. “It isn’t even as if it’s very good for you.”

“I like it,” Juturna said, carrying the stool back to the island and sitting down next to Camilla. She looked down. “I forgot the bowl, didn’t I?”

“I’ll get it,” Camilla said, rising to her feet and walking briskly across the kitchenette to fetch both bowl and spoon from out of the cupboards.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Turnus asked.

“I could do with some black coffee,” Juturna muttered.

“I see,” Turnus said, although the first thing he did was get the milk out of the refrigerator — it wasn’t far from the drinks cooler — and put it down on the island in front of Juturna.

“Thank you,” Juturna said softly as she filled the bowl Camilla had brought her with the sugary cereal and then poured the milk over it.

Turnus put the milk back in the fridge. “Coloratura called,” he announced.

Juturna said something with her mouth full, said full mouth rendering it incomprehensible.

“Swallow and say that again,” Turnus said.

Juturna rolled her eyes, but swallowed. “What did she want?”

“She’s been having trouble with a fan,” Turnus explained. “I sent Opis and Lyce to protect her, and Falco to try and hunt down the fan in question.”

“Will two people be enough?” Juturna asked. “Maybe Camilla should—”

“Opis and Lyce are more than capable,” Turnus assured her. “We’re not talking about a terrorist, after all, just some obsessed loser with no sense of boundaries. If they try anything, then Opis will take care of it, assuming Falco doesn’t find them first.”

“I hope so,” Juturna said. “She doesn’t deserve anything to happen to her.”

“I agree, that’s why I put Opis on it,” Turnus said.

Juturna ate a little more cereal, her blue eyes glancing at the box of cereal and Pyrrha’s picture on it. “So, speaking of obsessed losers—”

“Juturna,” Camilla murmured reproachfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Juturna said, holding up her free hand. “But what are you going to do about this guy?”

Turnus was silent while he busied himself with Juturna’s coffee. Only when the water was beginning to boil in the kettle did he turn back to her and said, “That depends.”

“Depends on what?” Juturna asked.

“Whether she brings him back here or not,” Turnus replied.

“Are you going to kill him?” asked Juturna. “Because, you know, somehow, I don’t think you murdering her boyfriend is going to be the way to win Pyrrha’s heart.”

“I have never killed anyone who did not give me cause,” Turnus growled.

“I’m not judging!” Juturna cried. “I’m just saying, she won’t appreciate it. If you want to know what I think: you should get over it. I mean, look at her; she’s not even that good-looking.”

“She is reputed the fairest beauty in Mistral,” Camilla murmured.

“By who?” Juturna demanded. “People with no taste, that’s who. By them. I mean, look at her. Green eyes! Green eyes are so overrated, honestly; it’s insane. Now, red- aagh! What did you kick me for?”

“I’m sorry,” Camilla said. “My foot slipped. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Turnus poured Juturna her coffee and began to stir it as he said, “Pyrrha’s beauty, or otherwise, is not the issue, although I happen to agree with the majority opinion; she is fair to look on. More to the point, she has an old name, the oldest name; she is the last heir to a prestigious family.”

“And that will make you more important,” Juturna said.

Turnus carried her coffee over to her. “When I marry her—”

“Don’t you mean ‘if’?” Juturna asked.

“Her mother gave me promise of her hand, whatever she might say now,” Turnus declared. “When I marry her, our children will have claim to the throne of Mistral itself. They will inherit the wealthiest and most powerful family in the whole kingdom, without doubt.”

“Mom and Dad didn’t care about any of that stuff,” Juturna said. “I may not have known Mom, but I know that Dad didn’t marry her because of what her last name was or how strong it would make the family.”

“Father had that luxury because of those who came before him who did think about how to strengthen the family, how to ensure its prosperity and success, and who passed down the fruits of that success to those who came after,” Turnus declared.

“But will you be happy?” Juturna demanded.

Turnus was silent for a moment. It was not a question he had really considered. “It … it doesn’t matter. I don’t wish to discuss it anymore.” His eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that what you were wearing yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Juturna admitted sheepishly. “And I slept in it too. Or didn’t sleep in it. Tried to sleep in it. Lay awake in bed in it. You know what I mean.”

“It smells like it too,” Camilla whispered, wrinkling her nose.

“I’m going to get a shower, after I’ve eaten,” Juturna said defensively.

Turnus sat down. “So, why couldn’t you sleep last night?”

“I don’t know,” Juturna said. “Just one of those nights, I guess. I called Ruby, because I was bored, but…”

“But what?” Turnus asked.

“Is she awake?” asked Camilla. “The word I had from Lady Nikos—”

“Yeah, she’s awake,” Juturna said. “She seemed fine. She’s better from … whatever it was that happened to her. But…”

Camilla reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Did something happen?”

“We kind of had a fight but not really,” Juturna said. “It’s a little hard to explain.” She frowned. “Why do you two risk your lives?”

Turnus glanced at Camilla. “You mean in the field?”

Juturna nodded. “All these people, these villagers or whatever, you don’t know them, you don’t owe them anything, but you could get killed for them, either of you could, or Lausus could, or anyone. So why do you do it?”

“Is that what you argued with Ruby about?” asked Camilla.

Juturna shrugged. “I told her they weren’t worth it,” she admitted. “That people… that they weren’t worth dying for. She got … kind of upset and told me I was awful, and then she told me that she didn’t care about recognition or glory or anything else; she just wanted to save lives, even though the lives she’d save wouldn’t care about her.” She paused. “Am I a bad person?”

“No,” Turnus and Camilla both said at once. They looked at each other, and a slight, soft smile graced Camilla’s face.

“No,” Camilla repeated, getting down off her stool and moving closer to Juturna so that she could put her arms around her, embracing her from the side. “No, Juturna, you are not a bad person.”

Juturna glanced at her. “But you get what she meant, don’t you? When Ruby was talking, I told her it sounded like something you might say.”

Camilla gave a sort of hollow chuckle, and a touch of red coloured her pale cheeks. “You flatter me,” she said. “But I … no, I would not say something like that. I…” Her ears drooped down, disappearing into her snow white hair. “For all the good fortune with which I have been blessed since, I cannot forget that I was put in a cage to be sold like an animal, and would have been, if not for your father.” She smiled. “Just as I cannot forget that you held out your hand to a frightened faunus girl who had no business in a great house such as this and made her welcome in your home. And that is how I know that you are not a bad person.” She paused for a moment. “But it also means that I … I would not speak as Ruby did to you. Whether it is naïveté or nobility on her part, I know not, but I would not, could not give my life so easily for the people. I would die for this family, for my comrades, for the commands I had been given … I hope I would give my life to save a child in danger if I saw her, but 'the people' … they are too nebulous a concept for me to declare that they are all worth my life.”

“And yet you would have me serve them,” Turnus said, a touch of amusement entering his voice.

“'Serve them'?” Juturna asked.

“Camilla thinks I should go into politics,” Turnus explained.

“I do not think you should, if you don’t want to,” Camilla replied. “But…” One pale hand rose and started to play with her long white hair. “You have a vision for this kingdom, and that being so, I merely suggested that perhaps you should let Mistral hear that vision, for you will bring no change sharing your thoughts with us around this breakfast table.”

Juturna grinned. “Is that right? You want to rule Mistral?”

“It isn’t about what I want,” Turnus declared. “This is about this kingdom, this kingdom that needs leadership! Things cannot go on as they have done; we cannot keep papering over the cracks. Camilla drove crime back down into the lower slopes of the city, but it festers there, untamed and unregarded; how long until it dares to creep back up into the light once more? In a generation’s time? Less? When the memory of the lesson that Camilla taught them is forgotten? Our Steward and his Council claim to govern the largest kingdom in Remnant, but they cannot even honestly say that they control the entire city!

“We have a city that is ungovernable, a kingdom that is defenceless, and a Council of self-interested pygmies whose only concern is their own aggrandisement. It cannot endure.” Turnus let out a deep breath. “I am not filled with nostalgia. I am well aware that in the old days of Empire, Camilla would not have been allowed to sit here with us. I am aware that in that respect, at least, things have improved, but that does not mean that we should have to settle for this … this mediocrity, at best. It sometimes feels as though the Council has no greater ambition than to manage the decline of this once-great kingdom, and it is not good enough. A change must come.”

“Come from where?” Camilla asked.

Turnus let out a sort of laugh. “Yes, I’m aware. I talk about the need for leadership, and yet, I will not step forward to provide any. But you know why. You both know why. We in this family know as well as anyone the fate of good men in a bad system. I have vision, you say—”

“And I say also that you would be a better man than many who sit upon the Council,” Camilla declared.

“And I thank you for that, but it will not happen.”

“But you want it,” Juturna said. “Don’t you?”

Turnus hesitated for a moment. “I want … I want many things,” he said. He grinned. “I’d quite like to see you do something for one thing.”

Juturna rolled her eyes. “Come on, don’t tell me that I need to do something. Why? Why should I think of doing something? I’m rich, I have an enviable social position, I don’t need to do anything. Are you going to cut me off if I don’t get a job?”

“No, of course not,” Turnus said. “I just think—”

“My lord,” Lausus said as he appeared in the doorway. A young man about Turnus’ age, he was dressed in a gold tunic that was getting a little short for his gangly frame. “My lord, sorry to disturb you, but there’s a man at the gate who wishes to speak with you. Says it's about a job.”

Turnus got to his feet. “What kind of man?”

“A village peasant by the look of him, but he’s very insistent.”

“Very well,” Turnus said. “Have him brought into the drawing room. Camilla, come with me.”

The man who had come to their gate was in his middle age at least, with grey streaks in his dark hair and a face that was tanned by the sun and weathered by the years. His clothes were plain, homespun in earthy tones, and worn by time spent on the road.

“You look weary from your travels,” Turnus observed as he sat down in the armchair opposite the fellow. Camilla stood by his side. “Would you care for any refreshment? Some coffee, perhaps, or wine if it is more to your taste?”

“No, my lord, thank you,” the man replied.

“To business then,” Turnus said. “What brings you to my door?”

The fellow glanced down at his hands. “My lord, my name is Fuscus, and I have come from the village of Ardea, to the north of here. Not far from us lies the village of Evanteum … or I should say that Evanteum used to lie not far from us, for it has been destroyed.”

“By who?” Camilla asked. “Grimm or bandits?”

“Bandits, we believe,” Fuscus replied. “Those who have been bold enough to venture to the ruins of Evanteum say that … there were wounds amongst the dead made by blades and bullets, not by teeth and claws.”

“I see,” Turnus murmured. “And you fear your village may be next to feel their wrath?”

“It is hard to see any reason why they would spare us, my lord,” Fuscus said. “Evanteum hired a huntsman to protect them, much good though it did them, but we have heard in town that when someone hires Rutulian Security, they often receive more than one man, and so we in town pooled all the lien we could spare, and I volunteered to make my way to Mistral and beg you, my lord, to come to our aid, for without it, I fear that we have no hope.” He reached for the satchel he was wearing on his hip and poured a flood of lien cards out onto the little table that sat between Turnus and himself. “It is little enough, I know, my lord, but I pray it will be enough for a few men at least.”

Turnus looked at it. It was a paltry sum, all told; it made a nice-looking pile, but it was all in very small value money cards; if it reached three figures, he would be very surprised.

Suffice to say, it was not the kind of price he would normally charge for a job like this.

But…

“You say that Evanteum was destroyed?” he asked. “No survivors?”

Fuscus shook his head. “No, my lord.”

Turnus nodded. He glanced up at Camilla. She too nodded, as though she could read his thoughts.

“You may keep your lien,” he declared. “I think you probably have need of it, if this is all that you can spare. We of Rutulian Security will take your case, but we do so pro bono, without charge.”

Fuscus eyes widened. “My lord, this … are you certain?”

“I am,” Turnus said. “Camilla, muster the men and get the airships fuelled up.”

“At once, my lord,” Camilla said, bowing her head.

“Airships? Men?” Fuscus repeated. “My lord … how many men will you send to aid us?”

“All of them, good man,” Turnus said, leaning forward. “All that I can spare.”

Hard Shells (New)

Hard Shells

The animal shelter-cum-pet hotel — the sign above the glass doors proclaimed it to be a 'Sanctuary and Wellness Centre,' and only the picture of a cat and a dog suggested this was not somewhere to get a massage — looked clean and well-maintained but also rather small, nestling as it did between a nail salon on the one side and a sportswear shop on the other, the two establishments looking as if they were trying to squeeze the animal shelter out of existence.

The doors were glass, and most of the central strip of the outer facing wall was taken up with windows, with the red brick only appearing above and below. The windows themselves were nearly impossible to see through, taken up as they were with seemingly interminable fliers and leaflets and advertisements: a picture of an admittedly adorable-looking golden retriever suggested that you might want to consider adopting a stray animal — somehow, Ciel doubted that most strays looked so attractive — a cat asked you to consider the benefits of tracking chips; a couple of home-made notices begged for information about lost pets.

There was also a request for donations in the form of a picture of a cat sat in front of an empty bowl, looking pleadingly up at the passerby.

It was unsubtle, but undoubtedly effective: Ciel found herself reaching into her purse as she approached the door.

Her cloak flapped around her a little as she walked, buffeted slightly by the breeze that blew through the Atlesian streets. She did not feel a chill, however, despite the altitude. The temperature was kept too high for that. It might not be the case when she returned to Mantle, but that was something she would discover when she arrived.

Ciel reached the glass doors of the shelter and pushed them open with little difficulty to step inside the building. It was scarcely warmer inside than it was without, but it was brighter, the artificial light from the ceiling above banishing the gloom of night that covered the sky outside. Ciel had to squint for a moment until her eyes adjusted.

"Hey," a soft, slow, almost lazy-sounding voice greeted her. "Welcome to the Sanctuary. Blessings."

The voice belonged to a woman slightly older than Ciel — albeit not by very much — with her red hair worn in curls, wearing a shapeless lavender dress and a yellow flower-patterned headscarf. Her name was Tree Hugger, and she ran the sanctuary, even if she didn't own it.

"Good evening," Ciel said as she walked towards the front desk. She plucked a few money cards out of her purse and placed them in the donation box.

"Good karma," Tree Hugger said as the cards hit the floor of the box with a series of light tapping sounds. Her violet eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Ciel blinked. "Why should you be sorry?"

"Your vibe is … disturbed," Tree Hugger explained. She reached out for a space just in front of Ciel's forehead, as though there were a fly buzzing around her and she meant to grab it.

Ciel recoiled, taking a step back out of reach. "Whatever my vibe may or may not be, please do not try to cleanse it."

Tree Hugger rested her elbows on the front desk. "What's the matter? You want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly," Ciel remarked. "Is Penny here? I think Rainbow is bringing her by."

"Yeah, Dash brought her by, along with that other girl, Blake," Tree Hugger said. "She's pretty righteous, huh?"

"Penny?"

"Blake," Tree Hugger explained. "Real … radical vibe."

"It disturbs me somewhat that I can see what you mean," Ciel said.

Tree Hugger's lips twitched. "So, Penny's the problem, huh?"

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "What makes you say that?"

"I think she's on your mind," Tree Hugger said.

That didn't explain anything as far as Ciel was concerned, but nevertheless, she took a step back towards Tree Hugger and the desk. "Why would Penny be disturbing my … vibe?"

"You tell me; it's your vibe," Tree Hugger pointed out.

"I don't even know what a vibe is; how am I supposed to know what's troubled about it?" Ciel snapped.

"But you are troubled, right?" Tree Hugger asked.

Ciel sighed. "Penny and I … our relationship … is … it is not what I would wish it to be, and yet … I do not know how to get from where we are to where I would wish to be, or if the journey is even possible."

"All journeys are possible," Tree Hugger said. "You just have to start walking."

"I am not sure that is entirely the case," Ciel said.

"It is when the journey is a metaphor, dude," Tree Hugger explained.

"Right," Ciel murmured. "That … has not been as entirely unhelpful as I might have expected." She put some more lien — not much more; she wasn't made of money, by any means — in the donation box. "Thank you."

Tree Hugger nodded. "Also, if things don't work out with your friend, adopting an emotional support dog can be a great way to cleanse your vibe. Or a pig, if that's more your thing."

"I'll bear that in mind," Ciel murmured as she walked around the desk towards the grey double doors that led out of reception and into the recesses of the shelter proper.

Ciel stepped through, letting the doors close behind her as she walked into a corridor where the floor was made up of black and white tiles, the walls were white, and the lights bright overhead. A series of doors led off from either side of the corridor, and Ciel looked into them as she passed by, looking for a sight of Penny and the others.

The … enclosures, rooms, whatever you wished to call them, certainly made an attempt at comfort; although they were stacked high up the walls, so that some creatures were confined in spaces eight or ten feet off the ground, they were by no means small spaces, for all that they were bounded by a plastic door with a child safety lock that could only be opened from the outside. The animals were confined but not caged; they all had a blanket to play with, chew on, or lie beneath, a toy or two — in her visits, Ciel had observed that you could tell who had been left at the shelter temporarily by an owner and who had been abandoned by how many toys and possessions they had in their room — and space to move a little bit; she also knew there was an enclosed yard out the back to allow more free movement every now and then.

No, this was not a terrible place; certainly, it was better than any equivalent in Mantle that Ciel knew of. It was not perfect, but then, Ciel did not know how a place like this, a place that existed in no small part for the benefit of creatures who were not wanted by polite society, could become perfect.

Apart from anything else, who would pay for it?

She found the others — Penny, Rainbow, Twilight, Blake, and Fluttershy — in the indoor play area, where the floor was covered in a felt carpet as green as grass, and various balls and pyramids and podiums and tunnels littered the floor. The others were all gathered an orange-coloured podium, atop which a large tortoise stood, while a smaller creature stood on the level below, and seemed to be looking up with admiration.

Or perhaps Ciel was simply anthropomorphising to an absurd degree.

As she walked through the door, she heard Rainbow say, "Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a stereotype?"

"'A stereotype'?" Ciel asked.

Rainbow, who was sitting on the floor with one arm resting on her raised knee, turned her head to look at her. "Oh, hey Ciel. I was just—"

"Insulting me?" Blake suggested.

"I was just pointing out to Blake that, for a faunus rights activist, she can be … a bit of a cat sometimes," Rainbow said.

"I am not!" Blake insisted.

Rainbow grinned. "What's that you're playing with?"

Blake looked down. Ciel looked down as well. Blake was standing up, but crouched, to bring her down closer to the tortoises, but in her hands, it seemed that she had found somewhere a ball of orange twine and had been assiduously if unconsciously creating a cat's cradle.

Blake's cheeks reddened a little, and she tried to throw the string away, but found that more difficult than she might have hoped by the way it had gotten tangled around her fingers. "That is not—"

"You eat all that tuna."

"Tuna's nice," Blake protested. "And very healthy."

"May I ask what prompted this?" asked Ciel.

"We're trying to persuade Blake to get a pet," Twilight explained from where she knelt behind the podium.

"After all," Fluttershy added, "there are a lot of wonderful animals here looking for a good home to go to."

"That would be rather difficult, considering that I don't have a home," Blake pointed out. "And if this hypothetical pet is just going to live here because I have nowhere to keep them, then what's the point?"

"Then get a dog you can take on missions," Rainbow suggested.

"I am not getting a dog," Blake said flatly.

"Because you're a stereotype."

Blake rolled her eyes.

Penny, who was kneeling down behind the tortoises, asked, “Do you have any pets, Ciel?”

“Not at the moment,” Ciel replied. “We had a dog, while we were living on the base in Vacuo. But Archie passed away, and since we moved back to Mantle, there has not really been the room.”

“Oh,” Penny said, “then what are you doing here?”

Regardless of how Penny meant it, the question felt like a slap across the face, considering Ciel’s misgivings. Nevertheless, she tried not to let it show on her face. “I,” she said, as she walked forwards, “am here to pay my respects to the Major.”

She knelt down in front of him. Major Leaf was a giant amongst his species; on the floor, he probably would have come up to Ciel’s knees or even a little higher, but when she knelt down — and with him on the podium — he was actually in a position to look down on her. His shell was mottled black and brown, rising in a high dome that did not completely cover his front, leaving a large amount of grey-green skin visible; scales were beginning to cover his thick, trunk-like legs.

“Good evening, Major,” Ciel said. “I would present my report, but I fear it is not yet complete.”

Major Leaf looked at her with one dark eye. He winked at her.

“He knows what we’re saying, doesn’t he?” Blake asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow said. “He’s really smart, aren’t you, sir?”

Major Leaf said nothing, but he almost seemed to smile; certainly, he raised his head up higher as if in pride.

Tank, standing on the level below, tried to climb upwards onto the top of the podium. He was far smaller than Major Leaf, and mostly green in colour, with a lower shell that covered his whole body, leaving only his neck, head, and legs protruding. Despite his youth, he had the beginnings of wrinkles around his mouth already, and they were accentuated as he smiled up hopefully at Major Leaf.

Major Leaf looked down at Tank. For a moment, the elder tortoise and the younger locked eyes with one another. Then it seemed almost as if Major Leaf nodded, before he pitched forwards. Ciel rose to her feet to make way for him as the Major climbed down off his lofty perch and turned around to make a sharp gesture with his head.

Tank climbed up onto the top of the podium.

Major Leaf rested his foreclaws upon the lower level and raised his neck so that, despite his descent, he was still level with Tank, more or less.

And then he seemed to nod again.

“They’re so cute!” Penny cried as Tank began to nuzzle Major Leaf, rubbing his snout up and down against the Major’s cheek.

Ciel smiled as she was not able to resist the temptation to start stroking Major Leaf on top of his head. “Do you know that tortoises like Major Leaf here can live for hundreds of years if they are properly cared for? He will outlive us all, won’t you, Major? He will see Atlas rise higher and higher, to glories undreamt of.”

“And he’ll remember us. Won’t you, sir?” Rainbow asked, her voice soft. She grinned. “And in two hundred years, when some other students are around, you’ll remember that they weren’t as awesome as us, won’t you?”

Once more, Major Leaf winked.

Fluttershy said, “Penny, have you ever thought about having a pet?”

Penny hesitated. “I … I don’t know,” Penny said. “A part of me would like one, but … like Blake said, I don’t have anywhere for them to live.”

“Well, when you both find yourselves a little more settled down, remember that there are lots of wonderful creatures in need of good homes and loving families,” Fluttershy said. “And I’d be happy to help if you need any advice.” She smiled. “And of course, that goes for you as well, Ciel, if your circumstances change.”

“Thank you,” Ciel murmured. “I will bear that in mind.” She hesitated. “Penny, may I have a word with you? In private?”

Penny got to her feet. “Alright,” she said. “But where is private here?”

“You can go up onto the roof, if you want to?” Fluttershy suggested. “It’s the fire door two doors down from here, take the stairs. Just don’t let the door close on you; it only opens from the inside.”

That wouldn’t be too much of a problem — if it was any problem at all — for people with their auras unlocked and some training, but nevertheless, as Ciel followed Penny up onto the roof, she made sure to place the doorstop she had found at the top of the stairs where it would, well, stop the door.

Then she stepped out onto the roof. Out of the bright lights of the sanctuary and into the dark of night once more, albeit a darkness as filled with artificial lights as it was with stars. The breeze ruffled Ciel’s cloak.

Penny stood near the edge of the roof, by the fire escape, leaning on the safety railing. “I like your cloak,” she said, turning her head to look at Ciel.

“Thank you,” Ciel murmured. She rather liked it herself; it was double-layered, with one layer covering her shoulders but allowing her arms to emerge, and the other covering the rest of her as far as her ankles.

There was a moment of silence before Penny said, “What did you want to talk about?”

“I … I would like to know,” Ciel said, “what it is that you plan to do.”

“Why?” Penny asked. “So that you can be fiercely disapproving?”

Ciel winced. “You heard that, of course.”

“Yes,” Penny said. “I heard everything. Did you mean it, or were you just saying what my father wanted to hear?”

Ciel took some small comfort from the fact that Penny was giving her an out. Perhaps it was a genuine question, but she doubted it; she believed that Penny had known that Ciel had meant what she was saying in Doctor Polendina’s laboratory, if only because they had talked about the same kind of thing before now. And yet, she was leaving Ciel an escape route anyway; if Ciel said that, yes, she had been soothing Doctor Polendina’s ruffled feathers, then Penny would accept that and let it pass, and they could move on to … to better things, perhaps.

And all Ciel had to do was lie.

Ciel closed her eyes. “No, Penny, I meant what I said.”

Penny looked away from her. “I see.”

“Penny,” Ciel said, her voice rising a little as she took a step towards her. “I … I am what I have been fashioned by God. I am moved by what the spirit moves in me. I cannot change that so easily, I cannot flick a switch to make myself other than who and what I am, and yet… and yet, for your approval, I almost wish I could.”

Penny looked at her. Her green eyes seemed especially bright in the darkness. “That … that isn’t what I want!” Penny cried. “That isn’t what I’ve ever wanted! Is that what you think?”

“I think—”

“I don’t want you to change who you are, Ciel,” Penny insisted. “I want you to stop trying to change me!”

“I fear that might require me to change into someone who can let fault pass without comment,” Ciel murmured apologetically.

Penny stared at her for a moment, and then a moment more. “Well,” she said, “if you wanted to change that part of yourself, I guess I wouldn’t complain.”

Ciel raised one eyebrow.

Penny smiled slightly, with her mouth closed.

Ciel snorted.

Penny’s smile remained on her face, even as she said, “Have you ever actually done it?”

“Done what?”

“Fiercely disapproved of your brothers,” Penny explained. “The way you said you would if they started … doing things you disapproved of. Wasting their time.”

“No,” Ciel admitted. “No, I have … it has never come up. I would like to say that is because my brothers are all so very upstanding — and lest you misunderstand me, there is no true scandal attached to any of them — but the truth is … the truth is, Penny, is that I sometimes think that there are moments when they disapprove of me.”

“Why would they disapprove of you?” Penny asked, disbelieving.

Both Ciel’s eyebrows rose this time around.

“You just said you haven’t done the thing that annoys me about you to them!” Penny pointed out, a degree of exasperation driving out the aforementioned disbelief.

“No,” Ciel allowed. “But I am here … At Atlas, I mean, not at the animal sanctuary.”

Penny blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Ciel turned away from her, moving towards the safety rail in her turn. She rested her fingertips gently upon the metal bars, feeling the cold of them. “I am the oldest of seven children,” she said. “My father is a non-commissioned officer, my mother has retired to look after the other six children … money is often tight. If there were fees to pay to get into Atlas, we would not be able to afford it, but even so … school supplies, uniform, a dress for the dance … I should have gotten a job where I could contribute to the family finances instead of being a drain on them.”

“Is that what they think?” Penny asked. “Is that what they told you?”

“No one has said it out loud,” Ciel conceded. “My father, at least, is proud of me, but at the same time … when I go home … I sometimes ask myself why I deserve a dress or an education more than my brothers deserve a treat or a toy.”

“Because … because this is everything to you,” Penny said. “Because this is your whole life. And because I really can’t see you working a normal job. Can you imagine yourself as a waitress or something? ‘Good evening, I am Ciel Soleil, and I will be your diligent and attentive waitress tonight. I warn you that if you order the wrong meal, I shall express my stern disapproval of your taste and choices.’”

Ciel closed her eyes and shook her head. “Penny—”

“What?” Penny declared, putting her hands on her hips and raising her head as though she were looking down — as though she could look down, despite being smaller than Ciel. “You want red wine with the fish? How plebeian of you!”

“Please stop,” Ciel pleaded gently, humour seeping into her voice.

“I simply couldn’t allow you to have fries, so here are your sautéed potatoes.”

“Stop, please, I beg of you, or you will make me weep,” Ciel implored. She covered her mouth as a titter escaped it. “I should like to think,” she declared, “that I would be capable of adjusting my behaviour to the setting and circumstance … but you may be more right about me than my pride is.”

“You belong here, Ciel,” Penny insisted. “I mean, you belong in Atlas, not in the animal sanctuary. You belong in that uniform. Because it’s not just a uniform to you; it’s a part of who you are. This is you, and you shouldn’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even your family. You’re who you are and where you’re meant to be.”

Ciel looked at her. “And that is all that you want too.”

Penny glanced down. “It’s what I want to find out, yes.”

“How?” Ciel asked. “What is it that you mean to do?”

Penny hesitated, clasping her hands together, saying nothing.

“I will not tell,” Ciel insisted. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re planning, I will keep your confidence.”

“Will you?”

“Yes!” Ciel declared. “I know what I said to your father, and I know … I know how that must have sounded to you, but … whatever it is that you have … I suspect that you and Rainbow talked about something in the elevator without me; I would know what it was. Not because I want to judge, but because…”

“Because?” Penny prompted.

“Because I sometimes doubt that either of you have the ability to plan your way to dinner time, and I would know that you aren’t doing something foolish,” Ciel admitted. “And because I care about you and my care makes me curious. But you have my word, upon the holy book and on my honour, I will not reveal … whatever it is.”

Penny took a moment, before she said, “I’m going to transfer to Beacon next year.”

So. That was it. Of course it was. Now that Penny had said it, it seemed very obvious.

And yet it still smarted like a smack to the face.

“I … I see,” Ciel murmured. “What will you do there, without a team—”

“I thought that, since it looks like Blake is going to come to Atlas, that I could take her spot on Team Iron,” Penny said. “That way, it all balances out.”

For Rainbow Dash perhaps. “I suppose that I can see the logic in that,” Ciel conceded.

It was a tidy solution, at least on a superficial level. And Penny would be reasonably close to her friends, although Ciel would have been more comfortable if Penny had said that she had already discussed it with her friends and they had agreed that Pyrrha would take Blake’s role in Team YRBN while Penny made up the new P in SAPR.

Not that there was any chance that Sunset Shimmer would have agreed to that, but Ciel would have preferred it to the idea of leaving Penny in the care of Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie.

“How will you get there?” she asked.

“Rainbow is going to help me fill in the transfer paperwork,” Penny said.

Ciel stared at her flatly. “Your plan … is to fill in a transfer request?”

Penny nodded. “Isn’t that how everyone does it?”

Ciel opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and then finally said, “This is why I wanted to know what you were planning. Because it appears that your planning is missing a plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are not an ordinary student, Penny!” Ciel reminded her, in a loud voice and a sharp tone. “You are … do you really think that it will be that easy? Do you really think that your father, or General Ironwood, or the Council, will simply allow you to walk away?”

“Rainbow Dash—”

“Means well, and means to do right by you as she perceives it,” Ciel allowed. “But … Rainbow either thinks too little of the obstacles or thinks too much of her ability to navigate them on your behalf. I cannot believe it will be as easy as she thinks.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to go,” Penny said.

“No!” Ciel cried. “What I want or do not want has nothing to do with it; I simply… I would hate for you to get your hopes up only to see them dashed upon … the reality.”

I never thought that it was wise to wish too much,

To dream too far would only lead to being crushed.

And yet … and yet, it was a little late for that. Penny had begun to dream already.

Which meant that there was only one way to save her from disappointment.

“I will help you,” Ciel said.

Penny’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“If this is what you want, if this is your desire, then I will help you achieve it and make it real,” Ciel said. “I will help you get to Beacon, though Doctor Polendina and General Ironwood and all the might of Atlas stands against us.”

“Ciel!” Penny gasped. “But … but why? You could get in trouble, you could get expelled—”

“A school that would expel me for doing the honourable thing is not one that I wish to attend,” Ciel declared.

“That isn’t true,” Penny said. “I know it isn’t true. This means everything to you.”

Ciel shook her head. “There is something else that means more to me, Penny,” she said. “And if … if I cannot be your teammate, then I hope I can at least be your friend.”

For a moment, Penny was still, Ciel’s words hanging between them until the last echo of them died and only the ambient sounds of an Atlesian night remained. Then Penny flung herself upon Ciel, who barely kept her feet as Penny wrapped her arms around her.

“Thank you,” Penny whispered into Ciel’s ear. “Thank you so much.”

Ciel embraced Penny in her turn, one hand reaching up to stroke her copper-coloured hair.

No, Penny, thank you.

Warden of the White Tower (New)

Warden of the White Tower

Terri-Belle Thrax urged her horse on down the road, the hooves of her mare lightly churning up the dirt beneath them as she trotted forwards.

The road here was only a dirt road, a brown strip cut through the verdant green on either side, but it was wide enough to drive a herd of goats or a flock of sheep down without many of them spilling out onto either side, and it was — bad weather notwithstanding — wide enough and firm enough to drive an animal-drawn cart, a car, or even a modestly-sized truck down without issues.

You might even be able to get two of them going side by side, depending on the width.

Terri-Belle had chosen to ride from Mistral in this, the first step in her search for the missing huntsmen and huntresses, whose continual disappearances were a part of why Mistral had been left so weak and her defences in so parlous a condition. She had chosen to ride rather than fly partly because, although you could see more from the air, it was easier to understand what you were seeing from the ground when you were closer to it; partly, she had chosen to go ahorse because not every village in rural Anima had places where you could land and refuel an airship — in fact, most did not — and partly because air travel felt an unnecessary risk on such an expedition as she was now engaged in. Someone, after all, had been killing huntsmen and huntresses — well, that was not yet confirmed, but it had to be acknowledged as at least a strong possibility, all things considered — and in the air, she would be vulnerable to becoming just another in the line of victims of this mysterious menace, shot down in a ball of fire or having her airship devoured around her by giant nevermores or whatever else. She did not intend for that to be her fate, she did not intend for Swift Foot to look for her coming from the White Tower but see her not; she meant to return home to the sound of trumpets yet. On horseback, she could protect herself, not least by getting down off of horseback and fighting on foot where she was the equal of any grimm, and most warriors besides.

It was for that reason that she sat upon an old-fashioned four-horned saddle, without stirrups. It was easier to dismount that way, and with no risk of her foot getting caught in the stirrups that she did not possess. Of course, such a saddle meant that she couldn’t charge a foeman down with Thunderbolt, but as she had no intention of doing that in any case, it was little loss.

Terri-Belle had ridden from Mistral with her father’s blessing, her sister’s farewell, and three companions. Her father’s blessing had been delivered first, as she knelt before him in the throne room.

“Father,” Terri-Belle said, planting the butt of Thunderbolt upon the floor as she descended to one knee before him. “I ask your leave now to set out in search of our missing huntsmen and huntresses, to discover their fate if I may, to find them and to bring them home if they are alive, or to avenge them if they are killed. And to bring truth home to Mistral, where presently we are surrounded by doubts and uncertainty.”

Lord Diomedes rose from the Steward’s chair and descended on her from the dais. “Go now, with my leave,” he said, his voice as deep as oceans. He reached for her, and with surprising strength in one who looked so old, he pulled her upright to her feet so that she was looking at his aged face, surrounded by his hair and beard of white, “—and with my fondest hopes and fullest confidences.” He kissed her first upon the left cheek, and then the right. “Show our enemies that the strength of Mistral is not to be taken lightly.”

She had bidden farewell to her sister at the city gate, down at the base of the mountain, with the road and the many fields and farms that surrounded the city spread out before her, awaiting her departure.

“May I not come with you?” Swift Foot asked as she stood at the gate, not far from the waiting mounts of Terri-Belle and her companions.

Terri-Belle laughed. “Not yet,” she said. “You still have a little growing up to do first.” She reached out and ruffled Swift Foot’s hair with her right hand.

Swift Foot squirmed and ducked out from under Terri-Belle’s hand, running both hands through her hair in a bid to rescue it from the disorder into which it had been cast. “Would you have stayed behind because you were too young?”

“Father would not have let me go if I was too young,” Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot folded her arms. “I think he would. He would have wanted the chance to prove that you were a prodigy.”

Terri-Belle snorted. “Perhaps,” she admitted. She smiled at her. “There was no need for you to come and see me off like this.”

“Yes,” Swift Foot said. “There was.”

There was not, but Terri-Belle appreciated it nonetheless. Shining Light and Blonn Di had not bothered to attend. They had duties, of course, especially in her absence, but all the same … she did appreciate that Swift Foot was here.

She wondered whether she ought to tell her youngest sister so, or whether that would make her soft.

She nodded, but said nothing. It was a reasonable compromise, she hoped.

“What do you think you’ll find out there?” Swift Foot asked.

A frown creased Terri-Belle’s brow beneath her guard. “Who can say what fate will guide me to?”

“You can be honest with me,” Swift Foot said softly. “You think they’re dead, don’t you?”

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. “Some have not been missing so long, but others? Why would they not have returned, or sent no word?”

Swift Foot nodded solemnly. “Take care,” she whispered.

Terri-Belle leapt into the saddle of her horse, a chestnut mare named Oakheart. “Fear not,” she said. “I do not mean for this to be my last riding.” She looked down at Swift Foot, who seemed even smaller now that Terri-Belle was ahorse. “Your time will come,” she promised. “But you should not wish for it to come too soon.”

“No?” Swift Foot asked. “I should not wish for the chance to win great glory?”

“Times of great glory are times of trouble,” Terri-Belle declared. “I may win acclaim for hunting down this villain who stalks our land, if a villain it be, but many now in Mistral will weep over their handiwork.” She paused. “We do not rule over glory but a city of men. We do not serve glory but the Mistral over which we rule, and all who dwell in it. Remember that, little sister.”

Swift Foot nodded and stepped back. “I will remember.”

“I have no doubt,” Terri-Belle said. “Farewell.” She put her knees to Oakheart’s flanks, urging her onwards, out of the gate and down the road that led away from the city, winding through the valleys that formed between the mountains that surrounded the city. When she had gone just a little way, Terri-Belle urged her mount to half-turn backwards, and as the mare turned, Terri-Belle raised her great horn, Oliphant, to her lips and blew a long, resounding blast upon it.

And from the city walls came the answering blasts of trumpets, high and clear and bright.

Terri-Belle smiled and raised her spear in salute of the guardians upon the walls, before she urged Oakheart to turn once more and face the road.

The road down which she rode away.

She rode with three companions: two warriors of the Imperial guard, Eurymachus and Melantho, and a groom, Arnaeus, to attend to the horses. Melantho had vibrant red hair cut short around her ears and a nose that had been broken a couple of times and reset badly; she wore a dozen knives around her person: at her belt, thrust into her boots, sheathed in her vambraces, and each contained a wire that could attach around Melantho’s fingers if need be, so that she could recall them to her once thrown. Eurymachus wore golden rings on his fingers and gold earrings glimmering as they hung from his ears and bore a nasty set of scars on his neck where a beowolf had kissed him; he had a bow slung across his back and a quiver of arrows on one hip that bounced slightly up and down as he rode and a short sword upon his other hip. Arnaeus had only a knife and would not do any fighting unless absolutely necessary.

Together, they had ridden as far as the town of Shiragiku, where a merchant caravan from Manjushage should have arrived three weeks ago on its way to Mistral. The caravans maintained their own guards, hired guns to keep order amongst the passengers and deter bandits, and sometimes, successful merchants would have a bodyguard or two on hand, but wise caravaneers would always seek to hire a huntsman for a guarantee of security, and wise huntsmen would always accept caravan work.

Supposedly, when the entire system of huntsmen, academies, missions, and the job board had been established, the intent had been that each job would be rated according to its level of difficulty and then paid a flat rate according to the level. That might be how it worked in Vale or Atlas — Terri-Belle had not made inquiries — but here in Mistral, although the danger ratings remained, the fee was set by the client, and huntsmen could take or leave it. That meant that poor villages were often out of luck, many huntsmen choosing to leave the meagre amount of lien such places could scrape together to hire protection — unless the village was owned by or under the protection of a noble patron willing to step in financially or unless they could petition the Council to serve a similar role — but the Most Ancient and Honourable Company of Caravaneers had deep pockets and was willing to dip into them for huntsmen who would bring their caravans safely home, and oftentimes, the merchants travelling with the caravan would chip in as well, and even the Merchants’ Guild sometimes. All of which was to say that guarding a caravan was probably the most lucrative proposition for any huntsman or huntress operating in Anima.

This particular caravan had been guarded by two huntsmen, and when the caravan had failed to arrive at its destination on time, neither had they.

Unfortunately, the story didn’t end there. When the caravan had failed to arrive, when no one connected with the caravan had reached Shiragiku, the Company had opened its wallet to put another job on the board: Search and Rescue, discover the fate of the missing caravan; the wife of one of the missing merchants had added to the potential reward, and the Guild as well. Another nice payday to tempt the most risk-averse of huntsmen.

And, indeed, a huntress had taken the job, setting out a little over two weeks ago. She, too, had disappeared.

Which was why Terri-Belle had come; at this point, she had little hope of the caravan, but it was just possible that they might find something of the huntress who had come after. They might even find her alive, although it was an outside possibility.

At Shiragiku, they had spent the night, and Terri-Belle had questioned the innkeepers: the innkeeper at the town’s more prosperous inn confirmed that rooms had been booked for certain leading members of the caravan at his inn upon a certain date, and for a few days after, but that they had never arrived to fulfil their reservations; the innkeeper at the less salubrious inn informed Terri-Belle that the missing huntress had stayed the night there before setting out down the road the next morning. No one else, they were both agreed, had taken the road from Shiragiku to Manjushage; after the caravan had failed to arrive, and the huntress had failed to return, no one had dared. In time, another caravan would brave the route, but nobody was going to risk their necks in the unknown just to satisfy curiosity.

The town had, however, hired a huntsman to protect them, and fortunately, he was neither dead nor missing, and Terri-Belle asked him to stay put so that it might remain that way while she and her companions set out, down the dirt road, tracing the missing huntress’ steps.

So there they were, and there she was, urging Oakheart forwards, churning up the dirt road between Shiragiku and Manjushage with the hooves of her horse, her companions following behind her.

Terri-Belle’s braid bounced as she rode; she could feel it touching her cheek repeatedly. She considered brushing it over her shoulder, but found that she liked the sensation. It kept her alert.

The country through which they rode was open, green fields in either direction; this was grazing country, not farming; crops were not grown here; rather, goats and sheep fed upon the grass and the thistles and the wildflowers that grew around, and were driven into market by the poor herdsmen whom wealthier men in grand houses paid a pittance to watch their flocks and guard them from the wolves.

Of course, being men and women alone in the wilds, they were as like to run into beowolves.

All the same, this was open ground: there were no woods, there were no nearby hills; it was difficult to see how anyone could be ambushed in such terrain as this; surely, you would see your enemy coming?

Unless they came under dark of night.

The sky rumbled ominously. Terri-Belle looked up; the sky was overcast, grey clouds as far as the eye could see; it had not started to rain yet, but there was no guarantee that it would not do so. If that happened, this road would be turned to mud; not disastrous for four people on horseback, but far from ideal.

Fortunately, it was holding off for the moment; gods of the sky grant that it stayed that way.

It was not long after that that Terri-Belle saw the shepherd.

He was coming towards them down the road, leading one of the sorriest flocks of sheep that it had ever been her misfortune to set eyes upon: a dozen ewes at most, who looked half-starved, and a sickly ram who couldn’t even raise his head. Their wool looked, frankly, pathetic, barely a layer at all, and they walked like broken men down the dirt road with slow tread and hardly a whimper out of any of them. Their shepherd was a tall man with dark brown hair, worn in a long braid down his back, and golden eyes. His face was long, with gaunt cheeks, and the central strip of his chest, bearing several brutal-looking scars, was exposed by the long brown overcoat he wore.

They saw him some time before they met him, but when they finally rode within speaking distance, the shepherd bowed to them with exaggerated courtesy, placing one hand upon his scarred chest and throwing out the other hand. “Greetings, my lady,” he said.

Terri-Belle reined in Oakheart. “Greetings, friend,” she said. She could not keep her gaze from falling upon his chest. “Those are some impressive scars for a shepherd.”

“Tokens of esteem from predators,” he said. “They were strong and tough, but here I am, and where are they?” He giggled.

“You did well to fight them off without a weapon,” Terri-Belle, for she could not see a weapon on him.

“I do what I must to protect my mistress’ flock,” the shepherd said.

“There’s not much to protect,” Eurymachus muttered.

“Do you keep your flock around here?” Terri-Belle said. “Have you seen a merchant caravan pass through here?”

“A caravan?” the shepherd repeated. “No, I’ve not seen any sign of any caravan. But I did see a huntress come through this way.”

“When?” Terri-Belle demanded.

“Oh, not long ago, only a few days,” the shepherd said. “No more than a week. She headed straight down this road. She asked about a caravan as well. I hope that nothing has happened to her; she was ever so polite.”

“We’ll see,” Terri-Belle muttered. “Down the road?”

“Down this road,” the shepherd said. “Precisely.”

Terri-Belle tossed him a low value lien card, which he caught deftly in one hand. “Thank you,” she said, and then urged Oakheart on, riding off the road and onto the grass to avoid the weary-looking sheep, before rejoining the road behind the worn-out flock, and heading onwards, still following in the footsteps of the huntress who had gone before.

“Good luck, Lady Terri-Belle!” the shepherd called to her as she rode away.

By the time Terri-Belle thought to wonder how he had known her name — or even how he had known to address her as 'my lady' in the first place — he was already out of sight.

So it was a mystery that lingered in the back of her mind as she and her companions pressed on, but it was a minor mystery; perhaps he had seen her face on the news; it was not as though she was unknown in Mistral.

All the same, it niggled at her, though as a mystery, it paled in comparison to the greater mystery that was the disappearance of so many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses.

They followed the road, with no sign of the huntress or the caravan, until they came to a hollow, a depression in the earth, a little miniature valley where the road dropped abruptly out of sight as though it were being swallowed by the earth. The road had been swallowed, but trees had grown on either side of it, rising up out of the depression to join together above like an honour guard crossing swords at the wedding of a noble soldier, their branches entangling to form a ceiling.

This was a good place for an ambush; a good place, moreover, to hide the evidence of any attack; no one would see it until they were right on top of it.

“Why did they drive the road through here?” Terri-Belle demanded. “Why not go around?”

“Maybe the earth isn’t solid enough,” Melantho suggested. “They needed to dig down to find a surface stable enough to support the weight of a vehicle?”

“Maybe,” Terri-Belle growled. “Dismount, all of you; Arnaeus, stay with the horses.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Arnaeus murmured, and as Terri-Belle leapt down from Oakheart — Melantho and Eurymachus doing likewise — he took the reins of all four horses.

Terri-Belle gripped Thunderbolt in two hands; black gloves covered most of them but left the back two fingers of each hand bare, and through those fingers, she could feel the dark blue silk wrapped around the top half of her spearshaft, and the cold, bare metal that made up the back. Strips of silk, and a pair of dark blue tassels, hung from just beneath the heavy spearpoint, fluttering gently like banners in the light breeze.

She kept the spear low, the point almost touching the ground, as she walked forward; Melantho was almost keeping pace with her, while Eurymachus hung back just a little with his bow.

Terri-Belle advanced to the edge of the hollow, the overhanging tangled trees beginning to cast their shadow over her, and at the edge of the hollow, as the road fell away, she stopped because they had found the caravan.

Between the overcast weather and the overgrown trees joining their hands above, it was a little difficult to see, but even in those circumstances, there was no mistaking it; it was not so dark below that Terri-Belle could not see the detritus of a caravan below. She could make out a wrecked wagon, one wheel broken, the cart looking as though it had been torn apart; she could see a dead elephant lying in the road, and dead horses and mules along with it. There were other carts too, all damaged in some way, many looking as though they had been ripped to shreds.

Someone was trying to get anyone hiding inside them.

Unfortunately, it was not too dark that she couldn’t make out the shapes of bodies.

A wordless growl escaped from between Terri-Belle’s lips. “Melantho,” she said, “pop a light down there.”

“Aye, Captain,” Melantho muttered as she fished a stick of fire-dust out of a pouch on her belt. She twisted the top of it, igniting the dust and causing the tube to glow an angry-looking red before she tossed it down to the hollow below.

As the red light spread, Terri-Belle could see the bodies clearly: men and women, some dressed roughly, others more richly and with more care for the outward shows of prosperity; some unarmed, others with weapons lying nearby, for all the good that it had done them; grooms, cooks, guides, guards, scouts, merchants, attendants, drovers, porters, all the small army that accompanied a caravan such as this.

And somewhere down there, at least two huntsmen, probably three.

It was what Terri-Belle had feared — it was, to be honest, what she had expected — and yet, it filled her with sadness all the same.

Sadness and anger. These were people of Mistral. These were her people, subjects of her father the Steward; these were good Mistralian men and women slain in the midst of Mistralian territory. Slain while moving from one place to another, slain while moving goods to be sold. What was that to deserve death?

These were people of Mistral. They had trusted in the protection of Mistral, in the protection of the White Tower. And the White Tower had failed them.

But it would avenge them, at the least.

“Grimm would not have killed the animals,” Eurymachus observed.

He had a point there. Grimm only attacked humans. Animals might attack them, in which case, the grimm would fight back, but would frightened pack horses and mules attack? Not likely; if they got loose, if their handlers were killed, then surely, they would run? Gods knew, the situation would have been terrifying enough down there.

But then, if this was the work of men, then why kill the animals? Apart from making it clear that this was not a grimm attack, horses and mules were valuable — to say nothing of an elephant; they could be sold, they could be used to haul goods, any bandit tribe would have made use of them to transport their ill-gotten gains. No bandit tribe would have simply slaughtered them all.

But no bandit tribe would have waited to ambush any huntsman coming looking for the caravan either.

It made no sense, unless somebody was deliberately hunting huntsmen.

“Eurymachus, stay here and cover us,” she commanded. “Melantho, with me.”

Eurymachus, an arrow knocked to his bowstring, dropped to one knee, ready to draw string if any foeman or creature showed itself down in the hollow below.

Terri-Belle descended; this was a road made to accommodate vehicles and beasts, and so, the decline was shallow; the downside of that was that it was a long depression, long enough to swallow an entire caravan. Whoever had attacked could have waited until they were all down there, down in the shadows, with trees on either side, before they attacked.

Although the road was shallow, the slopes on either side of the depression were steep; even leaving aside the trees that grew on either side of the road it would be a challenge to scramble up the slopes and make it to the open ground above, especially under attack. It would have been hard to escape that way; judging by the lack of word from the caravan, it appeared that no one had managed it.

Whatever had attacked, it had killed them all.

Down they went, Terri-Belle and Melantho; Terri-Belle had Thunderbolt gripped tight, while Melantho had a pair of knives out in her hands, the wires bound to iron rings about her fingers that could reel out the wires or retract them as needed. Down they went, until they reached the detritus and the dead.

It certainly looked like the work of grimm; the bodies seemed to have been torn to pieces; not quite literally, perhaps, but something had savaged them; the corpses were a mass of cuts and slices; something had ripped at them in a fury.

Something or someone. It would be easy to think that this was the work of grimm; it would be easy to think that such a savage, bestial attack, such frenzied wounds must be done by bestial claws. It was not so easy to think that a man had done this with a blade, but Eurymachus was right; grimm would not have killed the animals, and yet, the horses and the mules had been slashed to ribbons, their bodies mutilated just as the people had.

Whoever had done this had a lot of rage, or else they took joy in the suffering of others.

Or worse yet, both.

Melantho’s face was pale. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she muttered. “You ever seen anything like this, Captain?”

“Fortunately not,” Terri-Belle muttered. She had seen what grimm left behind before, which was bad enough, but this … this was a massacre.

This was a failure.

Their failure.

This is about so much more than missing huntsmen. They made it more when they decided to attack our people.

Still, she had to keep in mind the reason they had come. “Any sign of the huntsmen?”

“With the state of these, it’s hard to tell,” Melantho said.

“Keep looking,” Terri-Belle replied. She frowned. “I know it’s hard, and I will owe you more than a drink in Shiragiku for this, but we need to confirm that they’re dead. Their families deserve that much.”

“All their families deserve that much,” Melantho replied. “It doesn’t feel right just leaving them all here.”

“When we return to Shiragiku, we will hire labourers to return with us and bury the bodies,” Terri-Belle assured her.

“If any of them will come,” Melantho muttered darkly.

“They’ll come,” Terri-Belle said. “Once we return, that will prove it is safe, and they will come.”

They kept on searching. Melantho was right, it was difficult; some of the wounds had been dealt to the faces of the victims, disfiguring them, making them hard to recognise. Terri-Belle had pictures of all three missing huntsmen on her scroll, but sometimes, it was hard to tell what a face might have looked like before whoever was responsible had gotten to work on it.

As they searched, Terri-Belle thought that she could begin to work out what had happened, if only by the placement of the bodies, assuming that they hadn’t been staged after the event. That was certainly grimly possible, but if that was the case, then nothing could be learned from any of this, so … but assuming it was not the case, assuming that it had not been staged, then the attack had begun in the middle of the caravan; the caravan guards were all spread out from there — or moving towards the middle when the attack had started, because it was where the attack had started.

That made sense: huntsmen escorting a caravan like this would often station themselves somewhere near the middle, able to move towards the front or the rear as needed.

And lo, she found one of her huntsmen there, his face preserved, left untouched despite the brutal violence down to the rest of his body, almost like somebody wanted him to be recognisable in case anyone came looking.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Terri-Belle said. “There are two things that I don’t understand, but they both come down to the same thing: how did no one get away?”

“No time?” Melantho suggested.

“No time for even one person to make it out?” Terri-Belle said. “Even assuming people panicked, some hid in the wagons and carts and were dragged out later instead of running away, even so … not one? One huntsman should have been able to hold off an attacker long enough to buy time for the rest to run, let alone two.”

“Maybe they were taken by surprise?”

“What kind of huntsman has their aura down in the field?” Terri-Belle demanded.

Melantho frowned. “Maybe there were a lot of attackers.”

“A whole group of people psychotic enough to do this to the dead?” Terri-Belle asked. “That’s a cheerful thought.”

“Would only need one of them to do it after the battle was done.”

“Massacre,” Terri-Belle said. “This was a massacre, not a battle, and I … I don’t know; something tells me … I’m afraid this was the work of one man.”

“What makes you say that, Captain?”

“Because half the column walked right past the danger before the attack started,” Terri-Belle said. “Which tells me that they didn’t feel threatened.”

Above and behind them, the horses began to neigh and whinny in panic.

Terri-Belle and Melantho turned, looking upwards.

“Eurymachus?” Terri-Belle called.

She could see Eurymachus above them. He turned around, facing back to where they had left the horses and Arnaeus. “You?!” he exclaimed.

Then Eurymachus disappeared, snatched away by something or someone unseen above them.

“Eurymachus!” Melantho shouted as she and Terri-Belle both broke in his direction, legs pounding, racing back up the slope they had descended, racing to regain the surface.

They escaped from the shadows of the trees, with only the overcast light of the cloudy sky above them, to see Eurymachus lying dead on the ground, his throat cut.

Above his corpse stood the shepherd.

He was armed now, two pairs of claws, like scorpion claws, strapped to his wrists by leather vambraces.

He cackled with dark glee. “That’s one.”

Melantho bared her teeth in a snarl. “You bastard!” she yelled as she hurled knife after knife in his direction, a storm of blades torn from her belt and hurled through the air.

The shepherd — or whatever he was — laughed as he deflected two of the blades, dodged two of them with gymnastic nimbleness of form, his back arching backwards without difficulty; as one knife passed over his head, he smiled.

And with one almost idle hand reached out and grabbed the wire.

Melantha barely had time to squawk as she was hauled off her feet and pulled, by the taut wire, towards her enemy.

The shepherd’s hand was wreathed with a purple glow — the same regal purple to which his eyes transformed — as he slashed with his fingers at Melantho’s midriff.

Terri-Belle’s blue eyes widened as she watched Melantho’s aura part before his fingertips, the edges jagged like torn paper.

Her aura was still parted as the shepherd’s metal claws swiped left at right at that same gap her aura no longer protected. He clove through her cuirass like it was butter, and blood spilled out from the wounds as Melantho cried out in pain.

He was laughing wildly as he threw Melantho at Terri-Belle.

Terri-Belle caught her in one hand. She was still alive, but already, she had gone paler than before, and already, there was an alarming amount of blood staining her rent cuirass.

Eurymachus was dead. A quick glance confirmed that Arnaeus, too, was dead, and the horses running free — although they had not run very far. Melantho yet lived, and if Terri-Belle was fast enough getting help, then she might survive.

Of course, there was someone standing in the way of that.

Melantho groaned. “Captain—”

“Easy now,” Terri-Belle said softly as she set Melantho down upon the ground. “Rest up. I’ll get you help as soon as I can.”

The shepherd laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lady Terri-Belle.”

Terri-Belle stepped in front of Melantho’s prone form. “You have the advantage of me, sir.”

“And so it shall remain,” he declared. “My name is not for just anyone, after all.”

“You’re the one, aren’t you?” Terri-Belle demanded. “You’re the reason so many huntsmen have gone missing?”

The only answer she got was a self-satisfied giggle.

Terri-Belle growled. “Why?”

The shepherd laughed. “Why? The ant might as well try to understand the boot that steps on it as you could comprehend my motives.”

Terri-Belle raised the tip of Thunderbolt to point straight at him. “You may find this ant is not easily crushed underfoot.”

“Confidence? I like that,” he replied. “I like the way it turns to fear before the end.”

He was trying to bait her, trying to make her angry, trying to put her off balance.

She knew what he was doing, but it was working anyway.

“For Mistral,” she cried, “and the White Tower!”

She sprang for him, charging towards him, spear drawn back. She still gripped the weapon in both hands, holding it close, the point not too extended.

She charged for him, and he ran to meet her, a twisted smile upon his gaunt face, a laugh upon his lips.

They closed like two bulls in the field, each unable to bear a rival for the mastery of the pasture and the cows, which made the earth shake with the thunder of their hooves as they came together with horns lowered and tempers raised.

They closed, and as they closed, Terri-Belle hit him with a burst of her semblance. Leader’s Calling had seemed a fine name when she had first discovered her semblance at Haven Academy — the ability to put courage into the hearts of her comrades by means of a burst of her aura, the amount of courage and the effect depending on the amount of aura she put into it; it had seemed a less applicable name at twenty-three when her semblance had evolved to let her strike dismay into her foes as well if she so wished. That was what she used upon the shepherd just as they came together, a pulse of aura — not too much; she might have need of it in future — to put a shiver in his heart.

He stopped, staggered, a look of fear crossing his face, a whimper falling from his lips, and while he stood dismayed, Terri-Belle thrust Thunderbolt straight for his exposed belly.

He grunted in pain, doubling over — but only for a moment as Terri-Belle brought up her spear to whack him in the face with the flat of the tip. She whirled Thunderbolt in her hands to hit him across the side of the head with the spearbutt, the blue tassels and silk strips flying like standards, before she raised the spear overhead and brought it down upon him.

He caught it in his metal claws, arresting the progress of her weapon before it could reach him. Terri-Belle pressed down, grunting with effort, but his strength was the equal to her own, and she could make no headway.

He grinned.

Something shot out from under the length of his long brown overcoat — a tail! It was a scorpion tail, and it wrapped itself around Terri-Belle’s leg before she could react. It was all she could do to keep her hands on Thunderbolt as she was yanked off her feet and tossed up into the air.

She flew, braid flying, all her hair that was not bound in braid or Mohawk streaming about her face, and as she flew, the shepherd leapt after her. He did not part her aura with what she presumed was his semblance; he simply slashed at it with his claws once, twice, three times, carving off pieces of her aura each time, before kicking her down to the ground to kick up dust as she landed hard.

Terri-Belle scrambled to her feet, expecting him to fall upon her like a thunderbolt from heaven, but instead, the shepherd landed some distance away, discarding his long coat to reveal the white vest underneath — and the scorpion tail emerging from out of the back of his pants.

A faunus.

He cackled and raised his fists to point at her. Bullets leapt for her — he must have had guns built into those vambraces of his, as well as claws — in a swift stream. Terri-Belle deflected them, or tried to, spinning her spear before her, but although the shining steel shaft of Thunderbolt beat many away, she could feel some getting through, striking her, draining her aura and forcing her backwards, step by step.

Terri-Belle groaned and broke left, still spinning Thunderbolt to ward off his fire, circling to try and close the distance obliquely with her enemy. He seemed to recognise what she was doing, even to welcome it — if that smile on his face meant anything at all, which Terri-Belle was beginning to doubt — because while he kept shooting at her, chipping away at her aura and knocking her off balance with every shot that made it through her defences, he came to her as well. They were not charging now like bulls but approaching one another like combative birds: circling one another, moving as much by dictate of the air currents, weaving indirect and oblique ways and yet always managing to close, close, close the gap between them nevertheless.

Terri-Belle thrust Thunderbolt at him. He dodged out of the way, then thrust his scorpion tail at her in turn. Terri-Belle blocked it with the shaft of her spear. She slashed at him with the heavy spearpoint, but he deflected it with one of his claws, swiping at her with the other, forcing her to leap back to avoid it.

He pursued, slashing with first one claw and then the other. Terri-Belle took both blows upon the shaft of Thunderbolt, then was just able to avoid his tail as it drove for her face. She thrust again, and he dodged again but, this time, grabbed her spear just behind the point and pulled it forwards, pulling her forwards too and off balance — but Terri-Belle had guessed he might do this and pushed herself forwards, moving past him of her own volition, on her own balance — and as she moved, she backhanded him across the jaw with one of her heavy vambraces.

Terri-Belle rounded on him, spear whirling in her hands, but he arced his back ninety degrees or more backwards — so agile! — so that Thunderbolt passed clean over him. Then he leapt, and seemed to balance on his scorpion tail for a moment as he kicked Terri-Belle square in the gut, throwing her backwards.

Terri-Belle landed on her feet, but this time, the shepherd did follow up on her, claws slashing and tail at the ready.

He got in a slash before she was ready to respond, taking another slice off her aura before she started blocking, but with his claws and his tail to contend with, it was hard to keep an eye on all of them, swift as they were, let alone to fend them all off. A blow got through here, then there. She used another pulse of Leader’s Calling to stagger him again and get in a couple of solid hits, but he recovered too fast, and she dared not put more aura into it with how much of it he’d taken off her already.

She wasn’t going to win this.

It was a hard thing to admit for the Captain of the Imperial Guard, for the Warden of the White Tower, for a Thrax descended of so many noble warriors, but she wasn’t going to win this. Whoever he was, this false shepherd, he was too fast for her, too supple of body; she could rarely take the initiative because he always had another attack coming, and even when she could take the fight to him, he was too good at avoiding her blows.

Meanwhile, although she was holding him off for the most part, she was letting his strikes slip through her defences, and sooner or later, she would run out of aura.

The fact that she wasn’t bleeding already was entirely due to his grace in not using his semblance on her.

Have I become soft and complacent, or is he just that good?

And how is it that I’ve never heard of someone so skilled?

Because no one who fights him ever comes home.

She would. She would survive this; she would survive him. She had to survive, she had to get Melantho to a doctor, and she had to bring word back to Mistral. She would not become another missing huntress. She had to survive for the sake of her people.

So, since she could not win and would not die, how to escape? How to get out of this, and get Melantho out?

The horses had not gone far. They had wandered off the road, but they stood in the grass, heads down, chewing upon it, heedless of the battle raging not far away. Of course, they were horses of the guard; gunfire and the sounds of battle meant nothing to them.

And just like that, Terri-Belle knew what to do.

She leapt back, putting some distance between herself and the shepherd. He followed, but as he followed, she put three quarters of her remaining aura — she was in the red now, no doubt — into one final pulse of Leader’s Calling. He tripped and fell, cowering before her, cringing, hiding his face from her gaze, and as he cowered, Terri-Belle ran.

She dashed towards Melantho, and as her feet kicked up the dust, she whistled shrilly for Oakheart to come to her.

She reached Melantho, and as she held onto Thunderbolt with one hand, she scooped up her wounded comrade in the other.

The sounds of Oakheart’s hooves, his snorting and snuffling, heralded his approach as he trotted towards her.

Cradling Melantho, still bearing her spear, Terri-Belle leapt into the saddle and jabbed at her mare’s flanks with her knees.

“On, Oakheart, on!” she cried.

Oakheart whinnied, and no sooner had she turned for Shiragiku, then her trot began to quicken, her stride lengthening, her speed increasing as she flowed smoothly from trot to canter. She kicked and churned the earth beneath her hooves as she ran down the dirt road, away from this place, away from the ruin of the caravan, away from the dead whom she could no longer help and towards the help that the living yet required.

“Melantho,” Terri-Belle said, “are you still with me?”

Melantho groaned. “I … Captain, I…” She moaned again.

“Don’t try to talk if it hurts,” Terri-Belle said. “But stay with me, Melantho; you have to stay with me. Don’t fall asleep. Stay awake.”

Melantho grimaced. “Did … did you get him?”

Terri-Belle might have answered that, but she was answered by the cry of rage and frustration from the shepherd behind them. Terri-Belle looked over her shoulder to see him running in pursuit of them, and for all that he was afoot and she was ahorse, he was doing better than she was comfortable with.

She rammed her knees sharply into Oakheart’s flanks. “Faster, Oakheart!”

The horse snuffled in protest, but he quickened all the same, quickening to a gallop, opening up the distance between them and their pursuer.

Once more, the shepherd snarled, and once more, he raised his fists and let fly, bullets closing the distance that he could not.

His fire was rapid, but inaccurate; Terri-Belle guessed that his guns were meant for shorter ranges. But as the rounds flew past her face, one struck her arm just above her honour band, broke the little aura she had left and rushed through her flesh and out the other side.

Another hit her in the shoulder, pierced her cuirass, and buried itself in her.

Terri-Belle reared in the saddle, crying out in pain, but she kept her grip on Oakheart with her knees; she kept her seat, and despite the burning pain, despite the blood spilling down her arm, she kept on riding.

“Captain?” Melantho whispered.

“It’s nothing,” Terri-Belle grunted. “Nothing at all.” She took a deep breath, and then another. “You … hey, Melantho, you remember Professor Laches?”

Melantho’s eyes fluttered. “Grimm Studies, right?”

“Uh huh,” Terri-Belle replied. “He had … he had that ridiculous wig.”

Melantho managed a faint smile. “Everyone could tell it was fake. It didn’t fool anyone.”

“Uh huh,” Terri-Belle repeated. “Remember … remember when Autolycus managed to steal it?”

Melantho started to laugh, though it turned into a groan of pain. “I remember … I remember how we all acted like he was the biggest hero in Mistral because of it. We were … we were kind of immature jackasses, weren’t we?”

“Maybe,” Terri-Belle conceded. “But even Professor Hermes thought it was a feat. Remember how he made Autolycus explain how he’d done it for Stealth class?”

“Then gave him detention for a month,” Melantho added.

Terri-Belle managed a chuckle. “That too. The funniest thing,” she winced, “the funniest thing was, though, that when Professor Laches came in, all fuming … it turned out that he had perfectly good hair underneath that wig!” She shook her head. “To this day … to this day, I still don’t know what he was doing.”

“Maybe,” Melantho said. “Maybe he just wanted to be different. Be someone else. I don’t … I don’t suppose you’ve ever wanted that, Captain.”

“Have you?” Terri-Belle asked.

“My family,” Melantho began. She groaned in pain. “My … family…”

“Melantho?” Terri-Belle asked. “Melantho, come on, you have to stay with me. Tell me! Tell me about your family, tell me anything you want, just talk to me!”

But Melantho did not answer.

It was dark by the time Terri-Belle rode into Shiragiku. “Help!” she called, as loudly as she could, as loudly as the pain would let. “Help! I need a doctor!”

Lights went on in the town; she couldn’t see much, but she heard the sound of doors opening, saw shapes in the darkness.

“What is it? What happened?”

“She’s been wounded! Get the doctor quickly!”

Terri-Belle swayed in the saddle. “My name is Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower, and in my father’s name, I command you to attend to Melantho first,” she said.

It was the last thing she said before she lost her balance. She felt herself begin to tumble from her horse, felt herself falling.

But the world had gone black before she hit the ground.

A Fox in the Henhouse (New)

A Fox in the Henhouse

Terri-Belle awoke to the sound of birdsong.

She could hear it clearly, not muffled at all: a twittering, joined by the more musical whistling sound of a different bird altogether. The rustling leaves or branches. Rustling of something.

Terri-Belle opened her eyes, and then almost immediately closed them again at the sudden brightness. It was not dark anymore; she had left the night behind; instead, there was sunlight streaming in through the open window, and beyond the window, a tree, its leaves beginning to turn golden but not yet starting to fall, rustling in the wind.

She couldn’t see the birds singing, but doubtless, they were out there, somewhere.

Terri-Belle’s gaze wandered away from the window as she sought to sit up. She was lying in a bed, with a mattress beneath her and a light blue blanket beneath, in a well-appointed room panelled in dark oak, with a jug of water and a bowl of chrysanthemums on the bedside cabinet and an antique wall scroll depicting a great, serpentine dragon with scales of gold hanging from, well, the wall.

More golden flowers sat in a willow-pattern vase on another cabinet across the room from her, while her spear, Thunderbolt, rested in the corner of the room. A green carpet bordered with a white-covered part of the floor.

And a man, a little man turning bald, dressed in plain robes of lime green, sat in a chair not far from the door.

Terri-Belle winced in pain as she tried to sit up, rousing the man from his stupor.

“My lady is awake!” he cried, rising from his wooden seat. “Wait, please, I will fetch His Excellency.”

Terri-Belle frowned. “It would please me more if you would wait to give me your name than it would please me to wait upon His Excellency.”

The man hesitated a moment before he said, “If it please my lady, my name is Chongkun, and I have the honour to be a servant in the house of His Excellency Cheng, Mayor of Shiragiku.”

“The mayor,” Terri-Belle said. “This is the mayor’s house?”

Chongkun bowed his head. “My lady was brought here to be cared for.”

To curry favour with me if I survived, no doubt. “How long have I slept?” Terri-Belle asked.

“A night, a day, and another night, my lady,” Chongkun said. “It is but morning now upon the second day.”

“Still too long,” Terri-Belle murmured. She glanced down at her shoulder, and her arm. Someone — a doctor, hopefully — had bandaged them both up, though to speak true, she felt more stiff than otherwise in pain; her aura had hopefully been hard at work these last nights and day; she would not be surprised to find that, beneath the bandages, she was healed. Although she would probably always have a mark of that villain’s esteem. “My companion, Melantho, where is she?”

Chongkun winced. “I should fetch His Excellency—”

“Answer the damn question!” Terri-Belle growled, although by his hesitancy, she feared that she could guess the answer.

Chongkun bowed his head. “Your companion … did not survive, my lady.”

Terri-Belle closed her eyes. She bowed her head and covered her face with one hand. “May the gods judge her mercifully,” she whispered. And may she forgive me for my failure when we meet again.

Her, and Eurymachus.

A sigh escaped her lips. “Thank you, good man. Thank you for your honesty.” She sighed again. “I require my scroll.”

“My lady?”

“No, not my lady, for I have none; my scroll,” Terri-Belle said.

“His Excellency—”

“Yes, yes, fetch the mayor but fetch my scroll also,” Terri-Belle commanded. “And quickly!”

Chongkun’s head bobbed up and down twice, before he turned and fairly fled from the room, shutting the door sharply behind him.

Now she was alone, and silence reigned for moments brief until it was shattered by a howl of frustration torn from Terri-Belle’s throat.

A thousand curses on that scorpion! A thousand curses for every stolen life, and then a thousand more for good measure! Why? Why would any man take such a course? To cut down so many huntsmen, and to cut down so many others in pursuit of huntsmen? What would drive a man to such savagery?

“The ant might as well try to understand the boot that steps on it as you could comprehend my motives.”

Words. Words that might mean anything or everything or nothing at all. Words that might be sincere or just the ramblings of a man who had as much motivation as he had conscience. Terri-Belle thought of the dead of the caravan, the way that beasts and men alike had been mutilated; that was not the work of a man following orders; rather, it was the work of a man who enjoyed pain and revelled in violence.

Yet nevertheless, it did not necessarily follow that he was not acting under orders. Some men had use for mad creatures like that scorpion she had fought, and such creatures would sometimes find or seek out those who would offer them scope for their proclivities while shielding them from the consequences.

But who would want to slaughter Mistral’s huntsmen and huntresses?

Terri-Belle could not conceive of an answer to that — or rather, she could, but none of the answers made sense; bandits would obviously profit by the deaths of huntsmen, and it was far from inconceivable that that scorpion might be aligned to some bandit tribe, but would the tribe allow him to work alone, unsupported, with no sign of the other bandits? There had been no bandit activity reported around Shiragiku, which implied a great deal of distance between the tribe and their killer if he was, indeed, a bandit.

Terri-Belle was not an expert in the ways of the bandit tribes, but from what she did know, such a killer as she had encountered would more likely be found leading the tribe, having slaughtered his way to the high seat, than they would be roaming the wilds as a weapon for another.

Unless their master were even stronger than themselves, which barely bore thinking about.

But there was another detail which made Terri-Belle disinclined to support the bandit hypothesis, but which at the same time convinced her that this was more than the actions of one lone madman: if someone was hunting down huntsmen, if they were not simply meeting misfortunes at the hands of the grimm, then he who hunted them down had to know where they were. The attacks — assuming, for the moment, that the scorpion she had met was responsible for more deaths than those around Shiragiku — were too frequent to be the result of luck. He wasn’t just happening upon huntsmen around Anima: he had known that the caravan was on its way to Shiragiku, then he had known that another huntsman was coming to look for the caravan, and then he had known that Terri-Belle was going to look for all three huntsmen, and so, he had lain in wait to ambush each of them as they arrived.

He had known they were coming.

He had known she was coming.

Someone had told him.

There was a rat, in the Guard or the Huntsman’s Guild, someone who knew what missions were available — who knew what missions had been accepted. Someone who was passing that information on.

That was why it could not be bandits; there was no way such scum would be able to get someone inside the establishment like that, and there was no way that any Mistralian huntsman would agree to work with them. No, this … as unpleasant a thought as it was, this was the work of someone … someone respectable. A lord or a councillor, a wealthy merchant maybe, a man of wealth and influence, someone who could employ a man like the scorpion, as well as paying someone in the guard or the guild to give them information. But who? And to what end?

It crossed her mind that perhaps Lord Rutulus might be arranging all of this in order to monopolise the market in protection and security, but Terri-Belle swiftly dismissed the thought. She might not like the man very much, but whatever his faults, Lord Rutulus was a man of honour; he would not stoop so low.

It was hard to believe that any great man in Mistral would stoop so low, or endanger so many of their folk for mere advantage.

What did they want? Who could profit by such slaughter?

And how could they be stopped?

Two things struck fear into Terri-Belle’s heart: the first was the knowledge that she had just uncovered the edge of a conspiracy that had previously lain hidden out of sight, lurking in the shadows like a serpent waiting to strike, a conspiracy that might aim at so much as the overthrow of her father and her house, at control of Mistral itself; the second thing … was that she had been beaten.

Terri-Belle was the Captain of the Imperial Guard, she was the Warden of the White Tower, and yet, she had been defeated. She had been bested and had to flee for her life; she had set out with three companions, and she had lost all of them. She had not even been able to save Melantho, and she had been right there in her arms.

She had been beaten.

The scorpion was so swift, and strong besides. Yes, Terri-Belle had been taken by surprise, but even had she not … alone, the outcome would have been the same. He was too much for her.

Which would have been bad enough for her pride, but worse still for her heart was the fact that Terri-Belle knew that she was no poor warrior; she had not attained her position by blood and name alone. Of her Imperial Guard, she was the most skilful, the fastest, the strongest, and yet still she had struggled to so much as hold her own against this adversary. No wonder other huntsmen and huntresses had fallen before him as wheat before the sickle at harvest time.

Who could withstand him, if Terri-Belle could not? Not her sisters, Shining Light or Blonn Di; Swift Foot might grow to be Terri-Belle’s superior, but she was not yet; her guards were good men and women, courageous and well trained, huntsmen and huntresses of honour, but she could not think of one of them who would have survived where Eurymachus and Melantho had not. Thersander, Stheneleus, Euryalus, none of them would have survived this encounter.

Then who could?

Chiron, perhaps, if age had not wearied him and weakened his limbs; Camilla of the Rutulians was made of the true steel; Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral, had the speed to keep up with him; also at Mistral was a student named Hector who was reputed very skilled — although he had not participated in any tournaments, so Terri-Belle had not had the opportunity to judge for herself.

And, of course, there was Pyrrha. Surely, their pride reborn would have been able to stand against this menace, if any could.

Always, always it came back to Pyrrha. If she had agreed to come home and serve under Terri-Belle’s command, then Terri-Belle would not tremble now.

She had to come home. Terri-Belle would offer her anything, any comfort or honour or anything at all to accomplish that goal. She would make the offer not only to Pyrrha herself, but to her teammates also; if her Valish sweetheart and her friends meant so much to her, then let them all come to Mistral together; Terri-Belle would make them all huntsmen and huntresses and have them swear the oaths before the Steward. Surely, Pyrrha could find nothing to object to in that: comfort combined with duty, personal inclination combined with obligation. They could be huntsmen and huntresses in Mistral as well as in Vale, and was not Mistral a more pleasant place to live by far?

It would cause a panic if Terri-Belle enticed her back before the Vytal Festival, but afterwards … Terri-Belle had to make her see that she was needed at home. Surely, she could not remain forever blind to her duty?

Until then, until their champion returned … they would have to rely upon avoiding battle. How hard could it be to not encounter a single man in a land so vast as Anima?

It stuck in her craw that she needed to think in such a way; she wanted nothing more than to hunt him down and shove her spear so far up his backside that it came out his mouth, but she had to be reasonable. She had to give thought to the lives of the huntsmen she would spend in such a quest. In such a hopeless quest, all things being as they were now.

She could not beat him. Even if she were to train night and day — and she would do so — she could not guarantee that she would ever be able to beat him.

And her duty to Mistral and her father outweighed her desire for revenge.

The door slid open, and a portly man in an orange daopao and a tall black hat, wearing a golden medallion adorned with the image of a rooster hung from a chain of jade beads around his neck, walked into the room. He clasped his hands together and bowed to her.

“Lady Terri-Belle,” he said, “my servant Chongkun told me you were awake. We are most glad to see you recovered.”

Terri-Belle bowed her head to him in turn, “Mayor Cheng, I presume?”

“I have the honour of serving your father and the people of this town,” Mayor Cheng replied.

“I apologise, sir, for not presenting my respects when I arrived on my first visit here,” Terri-Belle said. “I was in haste, but that is no excuse for my neglect of propriety. You have my sincere regrets, and my equally sincere thanks for your care.”

“The first is of no issue,” Mayor Cheng replied, his baggy sleeve flapping as he waved one hand dismissively. “And as for the second, it is the least we could do for our Warden of the White Tower. I am honoured to serve Mistral in any way.”

“Your good service will not be forgotten, I assure you,” Terri-Belle said.

She would have to remember to give him some suitable reward upon her return home; if he had not done it for that reason, it was nevertheless expected that he should receive something. A lord who took advantage of too much charity would cease to find themselves in receipt of it.

Mayor Cheng smiled, but it was a thin smile and seemed somewhat strained. “My lady … allow me first to express my condolences upon the death of your companion. The doctor attended to her, as you instructed, but her injuries … she was dead before you arrived.”

“I feared as much,” Terri-Belle murmured. “If I may ask, where … where is she now?”

“The doctor has her … preserved,” Mayor Cheng said. “I did not know what you would wish to be done with her.”

“I will take her back to Mistral, and leave it to her family to decide how they wish to … to proceed,” Terri-Belle said.

“Of course,” Mayor Cheng murmured. He glanced away. “Lady Terri-Belle … I fear … the people are concerned. First, the caravan did not arrive from Manjushage; that is not novel, but every time it happens, we have cause to fear, for it means that there are grimm or brigands nearby. Then a huntsman comes through the town to seek the caravan, and she sets out and does not return. Then you come, with two other warriors, and you set out to seek the searcher, yet only you come back with all your horses gone bar one, one companion cradled in your arms who, regrettably, is dead, and you yourself have been shot twice and collapse in the middle of the street. You can understand, I hope, that nerves are fraying. I have done my best to maintain calm, but I find that I am not altogether calm myself.”

“You could have fooled me, sir, and I am sure you have done an admirable job of fooling the people,” Terri-Belle said.

“My lady, I do not find this very amusing,” Mayor Cheng said.

“No, neither do I,” Terri-Belle replied. She paused for a moment. “The caravan is dead, and so is the huntress who searched for them, and so are my two guards and my groom.”

Mayor Cheng’s brown eyes widened. “The caravan … everyone is dead?”

Terri-Belle nodded.

“Sea and sky,” Mayor Cheng murmured. He sat down upon the chair on which his servant had been sitting not too long ago. “How? How many villains lurk outside our town? How long until they descend upon us?”

“I will not allow that,” Terri-Belle vowed. “As you are people of Mistral, so will Mistral keep you safe. Do you have my scroll?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Mayor Cheng said, producing the device from out of his long sleeve. He got up and walked across the room to hand it to her. “Do you wish me to leave?”

“No, you may remain; it will give you some news to give to your people,” Terri-Belle said. She opened up the scroll and swiftly found the names Shining Light and Blonn Di.

She called them both.

Terri-Belle found that she had to wait longer than she would have been comfortable with for them to answer — made worse because she was acutely conscious of Mayor Cheng watching her all the while she waited for a response — but before she could grow too impatient the images of her two middle sisters appeared upon the scroll, in separate windows side by side.

“Terri-Belle,” Shining Light said. “Not like you to call. Did you miss us?”

“Always,” grunted Terri-Belle. “I’m sure you’ll be delighted to know that you will be remaining in charge in my absence for just a little longer.”

Shining Light was the older of the two twins, and as such, was Terri-Belle’s lieutenant in the guard. If Pyrrha finally accepted Terri-Belle’s entreaties, then she would appoint her to the position in Shining Light’s place; it was not very sororal, but one had to make some allowances for quality — and for the Nikos name, and Pyrrha’s reputation to boot. Until then, Shining Light did a reasonable job, although Terri-Belle wished she could be more popular with the guards.

“Sister, you wrong me,” Shining Light said. “I look forward to nothing more than the day of your return.”

Blonn Di’s eyes narrowed. “What is the cause of this delay?”

“Blonn Di, I need you to take half the guard and come to Shiragiku, immediately,” Terri-Belle commanded.

Blonn Di’s eyebrows rose. “Half the guard?”

“Yes, half!” Terri-Belle snapped. “Armed and ready, as quickly as you can.”

Blonn Di licked her lips. “Half the guard. Aye. As you command, Captain.”

“What’s going on?” Shining Light demanded, all playfulness leaving her voice. “What did you find out there, Terri-Belle?”

Terri-Belle glanced at Mayor Cheng, hovering nearby. “Just keep the city safe until I return,” she said. “Blonn Di, call me as you approach the town.”

“Of course,” Blonn Di murmured.

Terri-Belle closed her scroll.

“Half the Imperial Guard?” Mayor Cheng said.

“Half the guard,” Terri-Belle confirmed. “That will be twenty-f—” She stopped. She had had forty-seven guards when she set out, but now there were only forty-five. “Twenty-two huntsmen when they arrive, twenty-three including myself. Twenty-three, and we will not leave until the danger is passed. I guarantee the safety of Shiragiku, sir, upon my honour. And now, sir, I must ask if you have my armour somewhere about. If so, I would be grateful if you would have it brought to me. And my honour band, also.”

“I can have them brought, my lady,” Mayor Cheng acknowledged. “But the cuirass—”

“Will serve me better than anything else,” Terri-Belle said. “Please, have it brought at once.”

“Are you sure, my lady?” Mayor Cheng asked. “Your injuries—”

“I am, as you reminded me, the Warden of the White Tower,” Terri-Belle said. “A moment spent in bed unnecessarily is a moment too long.”

The strength of our people.

Those were the words engraved on Terri-Belle’s silver honour band. She could see them inscribed upon the inside of the metal as she held it up to the light.

Her father had given this to her when she started at Haven Academy. The words — and the implication that they carried — might have seemed presumptuous at the time; they had been presumptuous at the time, and yet, at the same time, they had given Terri-Belle something to strive for, a destiny towards which to walk. She would become the strength of her people, a tower to protect them against their enemies. The discovery of her semblance had only confirmed her in her belief that was the goal at which she ought to aim, that this was a task to which she had been suited by nature.

And as she grew, so she had grown into the responsibility which she had appointed to herself.

But now…

Now her strength had proved insufficient.

Nevertheless, she thought as she slipped the band over her arm, pushing it above her elbow, she would do all she could … and pray that Mistral’s destiny was not to fall while she defended it.

When Blonn Di and the guards arrived — a few hours later, descending from the skies in a trio of airships — Terri-Belle led them out of Shiragiku, down the road, the same road down which she had led Melantho and Eurymachus to their deaths. She led them all the way to the hollow, where the dead of the caravan remained. But this time, there was no sign of the scorpion. They did not meet him on the road; they did not find him in the hollow; they scouted beyond and all around and found him not.

In the time Terri-Belle had been out of it, he had, it seemed, disappeared. He had no more interest in this place and no desire to fight with them.

And Terri-Belle could not escape the feeling that they had been lucky.

At least they could bury the dead of the caravan and recover the body of Eurymachus for his family in Mistral to dispose of.

Professor Lionheart cringed as he stood in the doorway, his back hunched and his hands clasped together in front of his chest as though he was recoiling from a snake. “You, uh, you asked to see me, Lady Terri-Belle?”

“Yes,” Terri-Belle replied. “I did. Come in, Professor.”

She was back in Mistral, in the little room in the palace that served as her office, out of which she commanded the Imperial Guard. She believed it had been something else once, something that did not require more than barren walls and a draughty space, but it was one of the few places that had not been designated for other purposes long before her time, which meant it was one of the only places in the palace where she could work. Terri-Belle sat behind a foldable wooden desk, while Swift Foot sat in a chair in the corner of the room.

“You may sit down if you like,” Terri-Belle added, “although I don’t intend to keep you long.”

“In that case, I will stand,” Professor Lionheart said, sounding as though one of the reasons he wished to stand was that he could more swiftly bolt for the door when their business was concluded.

“It’s only me, Professor,” Terri-Belle reminded him. She smiled. “You once gave me a detention after I broke a plate over Antinous’ head, remember?”

Professor Lionheart chuckled. “Yes, I … I don’t know where I found the courage to punish you. Your father—”

“Was glad that you did,” Terri-Belle said. “The fact that I was punished without fear or favour gave him hope that I would learn better in the future. As I did, I would hope.”

“You have turned out very well, Lady Terri-Belle,” Professor Lionheart assured her.

“Not well enough, I fear,” Terri-Belle replied.

Professor Lionheart was silent for a moment. “Lady Terri-Belle, why have you summoned me?”

Terri-Belle sighed. “I have spoken to my father,” she said. “He has … listened to my counsel, and he has agreed to put the plans of Ms. Yeoh into action. We will raise a legion, the first legion of a new Mistralian Army, and if it is successful, then we will raise more. Gods know, with our numbers as they are, more guns will not go amiss.”

“I see,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “That is … I’m not sure what to say, my lady, except to ask…” He glanced at Swift Foot.

“Swift Foot is here to learn by observation,” Terri-Belle said. “And she is here because she has my trust.”

“I see,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “But I’m not sure why I, in particular, need to hear this news. It doesn’t relate to my work at Haven or with the Huntsman’s Guild—”

“No, it does not,” Terri-Belle conceded. “But I thought that you might like to know, seeing as you’re here. Lady Ming and Ms. Yeoh are correct; recent events have shown that we are too lightly defended. It is true that soldiers will not be able to withstand a serious onslaught, but if nothing else, they will free up more elite fighters for the situations that require them. But that is almost by the by; we shall see how the experiment turns out. The reason I asked you here, Professor, is to tell you that my father, the Steward of Mistral, has agreed to take absolute control of the Huntsman’s Guild until further notice, as is provided for in the Instrument of Government—”

“In a state of emergency,” Professor Lionheart declared.

“Someone is hunting down our huntsmen, Professor; what would you call that if not an emergency?” Terri-Belle demanded. She rose to her feet, both hands resting upon the foldable desk. “Apologies for my outburst, but … Professor, if you have seen what I have seen … how many huntsmen have gone missing this last year?”

Professor Lionheart hesitated. “I … I’m not sure.”

“Too many to count, then,” Terri-Belle said. “And all the work of one man.”

Professor Lionheart’s eyes widened. “One man?”

Terri-Belle nodded. “One. One man with skill, speed, strength, and a thirst for bloodshed. A man who kills as easily as breathing. A man who knows the movements of our huntsmen, where they go and why they go there and on what errands. A man who was waiting for me. We have a fox in the henhouse, Professor, and they are feeding our secrets to the wolf outside.”

Professor Lionheart stared at her. He swallowed and began drywashing his hands. “Do you … do you suspect … who could possibly do such a thing?”

Terri-Belle bowed her head. “That’s the worst part, Professor; I can’t even imagine. It must be someone influential, powerful. My belief is that there is someone in the city who wishes to see us all dead, although for what purpose, I cannot yet work out; that person, whoever they may be, has suborned someone in the Guild or the Guard to inform on them of the movements of huntsmen, and furthermore employed this killer to dispose of them.” She looked at him. “I would appreciate it if you would make some discrete inquiries around the guild, see if anyone has come into a substantial amount of money, or if anyone who has been complaining about their poverty stopped lately.”

“Many huntsmen complain about their poverty,” Professor Lionheart said.

“There will be a difference between good-natured grumbling and real complaint,” Terri-Belle said. She shook her head. “I don’t know, but please, Professor, ask a few questions. But be careful. Whoever this is may kill to protect their secret.”

Professor Lionheart had many faults, and he was far from being the best Headmaster that Haven could have had, but Terri-Belle had no desire to see him stabbed to death in some back alley for the crime of poking his nose where it didn’t belong. He had, after all, taught her for four years; she might not be who she was without him.

And besides, if he was not the best teacher or trainer of huntsmen, at the least, Professor Lionheart always had a paternal care for the welfare of his students. His office door had always been open when Terri-Belle had studied at Haven, and you could always come in for a cup of hot cocoa and a cosy chat if you were feeling upset about something.

I wonder if they still call him Uncle Leo?

No, Terri-Belle did not want to see him dead; he did not deserve it. Certainly not because of something that she had asked him to do.

“Of course,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “I will find out what I can. You mean to declare a state of emergency, then?”

“No, that would only panic the people,” Terri-Belle said. “As far as the common folk are concerned, life in Mistral will continue as it has. They will go to work, they will go to the market, and in a little while, they will sit in front of the television and watch Pyrrha Nikos triumph in the Vytal Festival. Nothing will change for them except how they hire huntsmen. The people will be told that there are … viruses in the job board, rendering it inoperable.”

“Viruses … in the job board?” Professor Lionheart asked.

“I don’t know; I’m not a computer expert,” Terri-Belle squawked. “It sounds plausible enough to me. The point is that, from now on, all assignments from anyone looking to hire a huntsman will come to me, and any huntsman wishing to take on a job will come to me, and I will match them with their missions.” And no one else will know what missions are available or who has taken them on.

Professor Lionheart looked at her. “That … my lady, that is—”

“Safe,” Terri-Belle declared. “Secure.”

“Yes,” Professor Lionheart murmured. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He bowed his head. “Very well, my lady, I will convey your decision to the Guild.” He bowed his head and retreated out the doorway, walking backwards as though he were afraid that Terri-Belle would pounce on him the moment he presented his back to her. He stayed facing her, that cringing look upon his face, until he closed the door.

“Are you sure about this?” Swift Foot asked as the door clicked shut.

“What other choice do I have?” Terri-Belle asked.

“This can’t be it,” Swift Foot replied.

“You think I’m making a mistake?”

“I think this is insane,” Swift Foot replied. “Do you have any idea how much work you’re setting yourself up for?”

“Do you?” Terri-Belle demanded.

“…No,” Swift Foot admitted. “But I imagine it’s quite a bit. I mean, if one person could do all of this by themselves, we wouldn’t need a computer system, right?”

Terri-Belle was not certain that the logic of that exactly held, but that wasn’t to say that Swift Foot didn’t have something resembling a point. “Do you see anything amiss in my conclusion, that someone on the inside is feeding information about the whereabouts of our huntsmen?”

“No,” Swift Foot said. “I guess that makes sense, although I don’t really want to think about it.”

“Someone is trying to bring our city down; nobody wants to think about that,” Terri-Belle muttered. “I couldn’t beat him, Swift Foot.”

Swift Foot didn’t reply. She looked at Terri-Belle, her expression … sympathetic, which made it even worse, as far as Terri-Belle was concerned.

“I couldn’t beat him,” she repeated. “One man, just a man, and he beat me. I couldn’t beat him, and I can count the number of people who might be able to do so on the fingers of one hand, so I will use secrecy in place of strength of arms. If we cannot beat this man, we must avoid him.”

Swift Foot was silent for a moment. “May I speak?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” Swift Foot muttered.

“What do you have to say?”

“If there really is a plot against Mistral, then the last thing that Mistral needs is the Warden of the White Tower mired in trivialities.”

“There is nothing trivial about the work of a huntress.”

“You know what I mean!” Swift Foot cried. “Even if the job board was down, this is work for a secretary.”

“I dare not trust a secretary.”

“Then trust me!” Swift Foot leapt up off her seat. “I’ll do the clerking; it’s not as though I’m doing anything else! Or do you not trust me, either?”

Terri-Belle stared down at her for a moment. She smiled, if a little sadly, “Do not be so quick to cast aside your freedom, little sister. The time for serving Mistral will come soon enough, and when it does … enjoy your youth while you have it. Leave the defence of Mistral to me.”

She sat back down at her desk.

She had a lot of work to do.

Mean Streets (New)

Mean Streets

The Bus soared through the night sky towards Mantle, passing through the clouds as it devoured the leagues of tundra that lay between Atlas and its mother city.

Right now, the auto-pilot was doing all of the work of actually flying the airship — not that there was a lot of work, given that the skies were empty, the ground beneath was peaceful, and they were flying a straight and level course towards their destination — so despite being in the pilot’s seat, Rainbow had a chance to read some more of Tukson’s book.

“Hmm,” she murmured.

“You’re frowning,” Ciel observed from the seat next to her.

That was true, and although she hadn’t noticed it before, Rainbow couldn’t ignore it once it had been pointed out to her. She unknotted her brow. “Yeah,” she muttered. “This bit here has me thinking.”

“What about?” asked Ciel as she shifted in her seat so that she was facing Rainbow just a little more.

Rainbow lowered the book so that it was resting in her lap. “I’ve just gotten to the start of the revolution,” she said, “when the Mistralians tried to deport all the faunus to Menagerie; now, as part of that, they tried to disarm the faunus troops whom they’d recruited during the Great War.”

Ciel nodded. “Those forces mutinied and formed the nucleus of the faunus army that fought in the revolution.”

“Right,” Rainbow said, “but what got me thinking was this bit here.” She glanced down at the book in her lap, and read aloud. “‘Labienus, perhaps the only human in Mistral who truly loved the faunus, and who saw them and treated them as his equals, had once said to them, “Watch for the moment you are told ‘Give up your arms,’ for that will be the moment to make use of them.” Labienus was dead, but Ares and the faunus troops recalled his words well and wasted no time in putting them into practice.’”

Ciel waited for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t see the relevance. It adds a flourish to the description of what happened, but it says nothing that our history lessons did not already cover.”

“I know the facts haven’t changed, and this particular bit isn’t anything new, but … it got me thinking,” Rainbow said. “I mean, it got me thinking about the way that we don’t let ordinary folks have guns.”

Ciel raised one curious eyebrow.

“Don’t look at me like that; it’s not a stupid point!” Rainbow insisted. “In Atlas, or in Low Town, or in Mantle, or Canterlot, or anywhere else, you have to have a licence in order to carry a weapon around. Even if you’re a regular soldier, you’re supposed to check your rifle in the barracks’ arms locker when you go off duty. And I can’t help reading this and wondering whether, maybe, Low Town wouldn’t have been allowed to get the way it was—”

“If the people living there were armed?” Ciel finished for her.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed.

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured. “The argument has been made before, by Mantle radicals raging at the supremacy of Atlas.” Her voice deepened a little bit, as though she were trying to sound masculine. “‘Time was when every home in Mantle had a side of bacon hanging above the fireplace and a musket resting beside it. Only bring back the musket, and the bacon will return.’”

“But you don’t agree?” Rainbow asked.

“Give it a moment’s thought, and you will not agree either,” Ciel told her. “Even leaving aside for a moment the question of whether or not it is desirable that the common citizens should be able to overthrow the government upon whims that may have nothing to do with the general good of the commonwealth, you could let the people of Mantle have as many weapons as they liked, but unless you were willing to let them have their own cruisers — which they could not afford, even if they were allowed — they still wouldn’t be a match for the military. Even ignoring our air supremacy, ordinary people with guns would be no match for the aura and training of our specialists.”

“So they just have to take it,” Rainbow said.

“They just have to vote for change, if they are so unhappy,” Ciel said. “The Council exists for a reason.” Her blue eyes narrowed. “I worry about that book sometimes.”

“Why?” Rainbow asked. “It’s just a book.”

“A book that seems to be exercising a corrupting influence.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Ciel! This book isn’t corrupting me!”

“You just suggested that the people should be armed for the purposes of insurrection,” Ciel pointed out.

“It was an idea, a thought,” Rainbow replied. “I wasn’t saying that people should actually overthrow the Council; I just meant … if you hear the people, you’ll never have to fear the people, you know? But there has to be something about the people to be afraid of, or it doesn’t work.”

“Whoever can muster the largest or most passionate armed mob is no basis for good government,” Ciel said sharply.

“I didn’t say it was,” Rainbow insisted. “But … maybe it can be a check on bad government. If those faunus had laid down their arms like they were told to, their descendants would all be living in Menagerie right now. And mine too, maybe.”

Ciel looked away, her head bowing a little as if she were focussing her attention on the controls before her. “That is what concerns me,” she said softly.

Rainbow frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When you talk about Atlas in this way … am I not allowed to be concerned?” Ciel asked. “When I met you, whatever your other faults, you were a patriot amongst patriots, but now, there are times when you sound like a—”

“Don’t say it,” Rainbow said, the slightest touch of a growl entering her voice. “I do not sound like that.”

“Do you really believe that this kingdom is so racist—”

“I didn’t say that.”

“This kingdom that has educated you and clothed you and raised you up—”

“And I am grateful,” Rainbow said, raising her voice a little to cut Ciel off. “I know how lucky I am, and I will always be grateful for that: to Twilight, to the General, to my friends, to Atlas itself. This kingdom, those people, they will always have my thanks, and my loyalty. But that’s the thing: I was lucky. You know who didn’t get educated or clothed or raised up? Gilda. Or anyone else that I grew up with.”

“Not everyone can have equally good outcomes—”

“But they should all get the opportunity to try, right?” Rainbow asked. “Ciel, answer me honestly: do you really think this kingdom is perfect? Is there really nothing you would change to make it better?”

Ciel made a harrumph sound out of the back of her throat. She clasped her hands together in her lap as she said, “I am not sure that arming people is a change I would call for the better.”

Rainbow snorted. “Okay, okay, I will let you have that one, but … come on. Nothing at all?”

Ciel said nothing, but nor did she meet Rainbow’s eyes. She stared out of the cockpit, at the dark of night and the expanse of tundra spread out before them.

“Look, I get it,” Rainbow said. “People like us, if we say the wrong things at the wrong time … people remember. But it’s just you and me in here. There’s no one listening, there’s no recording devices, nobody is going to know if you name one thing that is less than ideal about this otherwise great kingdom. Because it is great, and we both know it; we wouldn’t be where we are without it. Believe me, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten the opportunities that I’ve had if I’d been born in Mistral, and I’m willing to bet that you wouldn’t either. But patriotism isn’t pretending that Atlas doesn’t have any flaws. It’s working to sort out those flaws so that Atlas can be even better than it was before.”

“The … the healthcare system leaves a little to be desired,” Ciel murmured.

“Mmm,” Rainbow murmured. That wasn’t something that she’d had much trouble with herself. Twilight’s parents had paid for her health insurance when she was a kid, but Rainbow was strong as a horse and had never gotten ill once when she lived with them — she still had her appendix and everything — and now, the Academy would take care of any bills from illness or injury that she sustained. That would be the case for Ciel too, but nevertheless, Rainbow felt compelled to ask, “Are you sick?”

“No,” Ciel said immediately. “It is … I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Okay,” Rainbow agreed. If it was private, then it was private, and there wasn’t much that Rainbow could do about a health problem that one of Ciel’s family or friends was having. She paused for a moment, allowing silence just enough time to settle in the cockpit before she said, “Speaking of illness … has Penny spoken to you about her dad yet?”

Ciel glanced at Rainbow. “No,” she murmured. “You?”

“No,” Rainbow said, “and she hasn’t spoken to Twilight about it either. She did hear everything, right?”

“She certainly heard me agreeing with her father,” Ciel muttered.

“Right,” Rainbow replied. “That’s what I thought.” She reached up and started scratching the back of her neck with one hand. “I’m worried that she’s ignoring it.”

Ciel turned her head to look at Rainbow Dash. “Perhaps she’s talked about it with Ruby, or Pyrrha, or even Sunset Shimmer.”

“I thought about that, and I asked Sunset about it,” Rainbow said. “Discreetly. I didn’t tell her anything about Doctor Polendina in case Penny hadn’t spoken to her. She said they hadn’t discussed her father.”

“She might have been lying to protect Penny’s privacy,” Ciel suggested.

“Or she could be telling the truth and Penny hasn’t talked about it with anyone,” Rainbow countered. “I don’t think Sunset would lie about that, and I think she’d know if Penny had spoken to Pyrrha or Ruby about it. I think she’s ignoring it. Not talking about it to anyone? It’s not healthy.”

“Her father is dying,” Ciel said. “No amount of words can change that.”

“I know, but … how does she feel about it?” Rainbow asked. “I don’t know; do you know?”

“No,” Ciel muttered with a glance away from Rainbow Dash.

“At the moment, all she might see is the fact that he wants to keep her on a lead,” Rainbow said. “But at some point, she’ll miss him, and she’ll regret that she … or maybe not; I don’t know. But her father’s dying, and that’s not something that she should be going through by herself. She needs to open up to someone so that they can help her through it. And it doesn’t have to be us — in fact, since Ruby lost her mom and Pyrrha’s dad died, they might be better able to help her than we can — but it needs to be someone.”

She stopped for a moment and moved from scratching the back of her neck to the side of her head just above her ear.

“Do you think I should talk to her about it or maybe ask her uncle to give her a call? Unless you want to do it yourself?”

Ciel took a moment to reply. “I think her uncle would be the best choice. After all, he has a … Doctor Polendina is his brother as well as Penny’s father, so the two … I fear I do not know the words, but you take my meaning. There is a commonality there.”

“Right,” Rainbow said. “I was going to go and talk to him anyway after I dropped you off.”

“About Penny?”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to tell him that your plan to save Penny is to have her fill out transfer papers?” Ciel asked, her voice acquiring an acidic quality.

Rainbow let out a chuckle. “Is that what you and Penny talked about on the roof of the animal shelter?”

“Yes,” Ciel said. “In the main. I know that you are more optimistic than I am about the chances of Penny’s release, but even so—”

“For your information, I haven’t just decided to help Penny fill out her transfer forms,” Rainbow said. “I’ve also squared Councillor Cadenza so that if we have to fight this all the way to the top, there will be an ally for us … at the top.”

“Penny didn’t mention that,” Ciel murmured.

“I haven’t told her; I didn’t see the point,” Rainbow said.

“You should,” Ciel replied. “At the moment, she seems to think that all she needs do is fill out some forms.”

“That would be all a normal student needs to do.”

“But Penny is not a normal student,” Ciel pointed out.

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “But I think that we have to act as though she is. I mean, isn’t that the point, that Penny should be free to do what any other student could do, any other kid could do, with all the freedoms and the rights that come with it? If anyone else could just fill out the paperwork, then why should Penny have to sneak around or take special measures? I know that it sounds like I haven’t thought this through, but I have, and I really think that doing things by the book is the way to go, at least to start with.”

Ciel’s expression was inscrutable, but the way that she started tapping on her knee with her fingertips indicated that she was thinking about what Rainbow had said. “You are correct; it did sound as though you hadn’t given this any thought, but I can see now why you have decided on this course. However, that does not mean I believe it likely to succeed.”

“You have another idea?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No, not yet,” Ciel conceded. “But I think another way is necessary.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when you didn’t want to trust the official channels,” Rainbow said, venturing a grin.

Ciel snorted. “Yes, well … congratulations on speaking to the Councillor; perhaps it would be wise to speak to General Ironwood in advance of Penny submitting her transfer papers.”

“I thought I’d deliver the paperwork myself, have the chance to talk it over then,” Rainbow said.

“That is not exactly official channels,” Ciel pointed out.

“It’s going to land on his desk sometime,” Rainbow replied. “They always do.” She blinked. “So, wait a second, does this mean that you agree with me?”

“It means that I have agreed to help Penny do as she wishes,” Ciel said. “It means that I have, in principle, conceded that she deserves that right. I suppose, in that sense, yes, I do agree with you. I agree with you … because you were right. Penny will never accept me as someone who cares about her while I hold power over her bestowed by some higher authority which she cannot escape. I hope that, once that power is gone, we may be able to have some sort of relationship.”

Rainbow smiled. “It might not be fair, but I think that this might be the only way that you can show her just how much you really care about her. Everything else might just be following orders, doing as you were told, but this … this is for her, and Penny will realise that.” She clasped her hands together behind her back of her head. “Of course, it’s also possible that this could put both of our careers in the toilet, you know that, right?”

“I think you will be alright,” Ciel said.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging,” Rainbow insisted. “If you get busted down to janitorial work, I’ll be right there, scrubbing the floors along with you. I’m just saying, this could leave a mark on our records. Are you prepared for that?”

The corners of Ciel’s lips twitched upwards. “The Lady teaches us that to be humiliated for speaking the truth, or for doing what is right, demeans not us but those who would torment us; that to be harmed for speaking the truth, or for doing what is right, ennobles us and reveals the darkness in those who silence us with lies and falsehoods. Many there are throughout the history of our faith who were persecuted for their beliefs and who remained true to the Lady and her teachings even during the darkest days of Mantle’s repression of expression and emotion. The authorities burned the holy scriptures, and later, they resorted to burning men for reading or for preaching said scriptures, but through it all, our ancestors held to faith and creed, though they were forced to meet in secret and pray in hushed voices. Compared to that, what will I suffer? And yet, I flatter myself that they would look more kindly upon this course than were I to turn away from injustice for the sake of my career.”

The smile on Rainbow’s face broadened a little. “Those are a lot of very nice words to say that you care more about Penny than you do about your career.”

“That…” Ciel’s face flushed. “Every word I said was true.”

“I’m sure it was,” Rainbow said. “And so was what I just said.”

“Well, yes, but…” Ciel coughed into her hand. “Of course, that is another reason why it makes sense to have Doctor Pietro approach Penny about her father’s condition: unlike us, he is not an authority figure in her life.”

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll bring it up when I see him. I wonder if he knows that his brother is sick?”

“If not, then you will tell him,” Ciel said.

“I guess, but I’d rather not,” Rainbow murmured. “It feels like someone who … who actually knows him, or knows Doctor Polendina, or … you know, someone other than Penny’s team leader ought to break the news.”

“And Penny should probably have heard the truth some other way than overhearing a conversation that her father didn’t even know that she could hear,” Ciel pointed out.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said softly. “Maybe that’s why she won’t talk about it; she’s waiting for someone to actually tell her?”

“Perhaps,” Ciel said sceptically. She folded her arms. “May I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Did you mean what you said to Penny in the laboratory,” Ciel said, “about a team leader’s first duty being to keep her teammates alive?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Rainbow said. “You disagree?”

“A team leader’s first duty is to complete the mission,” Ciel declared. “That is every soldier’s first duty, yours and mine.”

“And yet, our mission is to make sure that Penny stays on her mission, not goes to Beacon,” Rainbow pointed out.

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “Allowing law and justice their due,” she qualified. “Nevertheless, the duty to preserve the lives of one’s comrades, while not unimportant, is certainly not more important than completing the mission assigned to us.”

“No matter what the mission is?”

“It is not for us to decide what is and is not a worthy objective.”

“We already have,” Rainbow pointed out.

“That is not the same thing!” Ciel insisted. “In battle, we must be prepared to give our lives, and you must be prepared to spend our lives as readily your own in pursuit of the objectives that we are tasked with completing! If not, if you hold back out of a desire to preserve our lives then … think what could be the result.”

I don’t need to think; I know what the result is, Rainbow thought. She and Sunset were the only ones who knew. Six dead and Vale breached.

Six dead, Vale breached, and seven lives saved.

Put like that … hmm. Yeah. Well … hmm.

“Well, you can pull me up when you think it’s causing a problem in the field,” Rainbow said. “Assuming that we ever return to the field as a team, that is. Without Penny…”

“Indeed,” Ciel murmured. “Who knows what will happen?”

“Absolutely no one,” Rainbow said. She sat up straighter in her seat as the lights of Mantle began to gleam in the distance, the bright glow of the city appearing over the horizon like a rising sun, welcoming them, guiding them in.

It looks so much more inviting from the air, doesn’t it?

“Okay, we are on approach, resuming manual control,” Rainbow said, disabling the autopilot and gripping the controls with both hands. As yet, there was no need to change course at all, but she kept a firm hand on them regardless, ready for when she would.

They drew closer, Mantle growing not only in size but growing more distinct as well, moving out of the haze of light and resolving into … well, there was still a lot of haze down there, but there was also a city. Three layers of walls protected it from the grimm that prowled the wastes, each wall taller than the last, with gun emplacements embedded behind the rear two walls or else protruding out of ports built into the outer wall for direct fire; missile batteries sat atop tall towers, scanning the skies for the approach of aerial grimm, while androids stood by quad-barrelled guns or rotary cannons that could fire at targets in the air or on the ground — the guns themselves targeted automatically, but the androids were there to keep them loaded with ammunition and do any simple repairs if there was a jam or something.

Beyond the walls, the city itself sat wrapped, with the tall chimneys of great factories rising up above the streets and houses, with the SDC refineries and the meat packing plants and all the other great manufactories that had made Mantle great and prosperous dominating the skyline with their huge, brutal-looking buildings that cast such long shadows over everything else. For everything else, the houses, the shops, the residential tower blocks, the streets, it was all dwarfed by those immense factories, the reason the city existed. A railway line ran out of Mantle in both directions, passing through the walls, with metal gates set in those walls that would rise up to admit a train to pass out of Mantle and into the world beyond. Mostly, as far as Rainbow knew, it was only the SDC that used trains to move their dust out of the mines in more distant parts of Solitas, but she might be wrong about that.

Rainbow pulled the microphone off the cockpit wall next to her and spoke into it, “Mantle Control this is Echo Three-Oh-Three requesting permission to land, over.”

The speakers crackled. “Echo Three-Oh-Three, this is Mantle Control; you are directed to land at docking bay five-one. Welcome to Mantle.”

“Roger that, Control, and thanks,” Rainbow said. She put the microphone back on the wall. “Looking forward to being home?”

Ciel did not respond.

“That bad, huh?” Rainbow said.

“What? No,” Ciel said quickly.

“That wasn’t what you said a minute ago.”

“I will be very glad to see my family again,” Ciel insisted.

“Sure,” Rainbow said, deciding not to press the issue. As they approached, she began to guide her airship downwards, steering well clear of the cruisers of the Mantle Squadron that hovered over the city, getting down beneath them as she turned in the direction of Mantle HQ.

The headquarters of the garrison had nothing on the immense factories that dominated Mantle, but it did manage to dominate the area immediately around it, if only because so much of what was around it had been cleared away, leaving wide streets and four stone plazas surrounding the building itself. Mantle was a city of metal and stone, without any greenery that could be seen from the air, but nevertheless, the area immediately around headquarters looked especially lifeless, because even as the airship flew lower and lower, Rainbow couldn’t see any people down below. The HQ was surrounded by a metal wall, which looked kind of flimsy but was no doubt enough to deter trespassers, especially since there was barbed wire on top of it. Behind the wall, the headquarters building itself rose, black and brutalist, with thick concrete columns forming a superstructure or an exoskeleton within which the building itself, all towers and flat roofs and very small windows, nestled. The flat roofs doubled as landing platforms for airships, but pad five-one, to which Rainbow’s Bus had been directed, was on the ground, identifiable by the big ‘51’ painted on the stone. Rainbow hovered above the docking pad for a moment, moving only slightly to angle for her descent, before sending the airship straight down to land next to another Skyray which was painted in far more common — and drabber — colours.

“And here we are,” Rainbow said, opening the doors on the right hand side — the opposite side to the other airship. “Enjoy your break.”

“Thank you,” Ciel said, rising to her feet and smoothing out the creases in her cloak with both hands.

“I’m going to head back to Atlas once I’ve spoken to Doctor Pietro,” Rainbow said. “But just give me a call if you need anything.”

Ciel nodded. “I will. Goodbye, for now.”

Rainbow sat in the pilot’s chair as Ciel left the cockpit; she heard her footsteps echoing on the metal for a few moments, and then they disappeared. Rainbow waited. She wanted to let Ciel get a head start, and since they weren’t going the same way in any case, they might as well split up here as anywhere else.

Rainbow waited until she felt as though she’d waited long enough, at which point, she got up and left first the cockpit and then the airship itself. The side door slid closed behind her as she leapt down onto the stone of Mantle. Her eyes were drawn upwards, to where a camera mounted on the wall seemed to be looking right at her.

Rainbow suppressed a shudder; this place gave her the creeps sometimes. Nevertheless, she kept her back straight and her head up as she walked away, crossing the open courtyard that surrounded the HQ — she couldn’t help but think it would offer clear fields of fire against any attackers — and approached the large but solitary gate that was the only way out past the wall. It rolled open for her on her approach, sensing the scroll in her jacket pocket. It moved with a slow, rumbling pace, the metal rollers grinding against the slide set in the concrete.

Rainbow didn’t wait for it to get all the way; she walked through as soon as it had opened wide enough to accommodate her, and briskly crossed the open space cleared around the headquarters — now that she’d gotten the idea of a field of fire into her head, she couldn’t get rid of it — and into the streets of Mantle that lay all around.

She walked on the edge of the road, for now staying under the lights that illuminated the streets; she was wearing Plain Awesome and Blunt Honesty on her hips, and although she wasn’t wearing her Wings of Harmony, she did have Unfailing Loyalty slung across her back. Nevertheless, where the streets were lit, she kept to the light.

She wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt trying to mug her, after all.

Sadly, in Mantle, that wasn’t an impossibility. This town, this city … well, it was a bit of a dump, to tell you the truth. It was like Low Town, and just like Low Town, well … it was hard to say exactly who was worse off. The main thing was that there wasn’t much here. Mantle had been big when the dust mines beneath the city had yielded enough dust for all of Remnant, but the mines were tapped out, and those days gone long ago, while those big factories that dominated the skyline were mostly worked by robots now instead of people. The houses in Mantle were nicer than the ones in Low Town, or at least they were better built; Rainbow wasn’t sure you could call somewhere 'nice' when it looked as though it was being allowed to get absolutely filthy.

Mind, she wasn’t sure what you could do to keep them clean, because it was a filthy town. Yes, you could wash the windows that were black with filth, but wouldn’t they just get filthy again afterwards? This whole city was awash with the dirt of its industries, blocking out the stars above and even making it hard to see the cruisers protecting the city skies. It was in the air all around, and once or twice, Rainbow Dash found herself coughing and spluttering and yearning for the clean air and clear skies of Atlas.

Not every street had working lights; some of them were dark, and Rainbow kept her hands hovering near her SMGs as she walked down them with a brisk step.

Through these dirty streets, the people of Mantle moved; it was past working hours, or at least it was past the point at which the day shift made way for the night crew — Rainbow wasn’t sure if Mantle ever really stopped working — but there were still people on the streets, clad in dull colours of grey and brown, their clothes and faces stained with dirt; they moved with shoulders slumped, their gait slow and shambling so that they seemed like zombies from a video game as much as men. Rackety vehicles rattled and rumbled down the roads, bumpers looking as though they might drop off at any moment, headlights broken, bodywork battered and stained with rust and much alike.

It wasn’t just the faunus in Low Town that were … not doing so great, but at least for the faunus, Rainbow could imagine what could be done to help them: get faunus into leadership positions, move them up to live in Atlas, give them the same breaks and opportunities that humans had. These people were humans — mostly; they had the breaks, they had the opportunities, the people in the rooms where it happened looked just like them, and yet, here they were, living like this.

It seemed a lot harder to fix, as well as making Rainbow wonder if fixing the issues of the faunus would be a lot harder than it seemed like it would be.

There was a reason she didn’t want Blake to come down here, but maybe she’d see something Rainbow hadn’t thought of yet.

Mind you, Rarity had gotten out. Rarity had been born in Mantle, not that you’d know it from her accent, and yet she’d gotten out and made it to Atlas and never looked back.

In a way, she was just like Rainbow Dash, just without the extra ears.

In a way, she was more successful because she’d done it without patronage.

Still, she’d been lucky too, in her own way.

Maybe Rainbow ought to pin her down one of these days and ask her how she managed it. Rarity didn’t like to talk about her humble origins, and Rainbow didn’t want to press her, but it might be worth it.

Rainbow walked through the streets, passing late night diners and the one place that people actually looked happy to be coming in and out of: a movie theatre. Inviting lights and the smell of popcorn spilled out from within, and people were actually smiling as they walked towards it or came out at the end. Cute couples walked arm in arm, their coats and skirts and pants actually showing flashes of colour — and no dirt! Above the many doors with their semi-circular handles, a holographic screen displayed a trailer for a new … well, there was no sound, so Rainbow couldn’t exactly tell what it was, but it appeared to star Ruby Roundhouse and Red Reynolds — a golden retriever faunus actor who seemed to play exactly the same quippy, sarcastic guy in every movie he was in — doing a lot of running around with explosions happening.

It might be worth seeing at some point.

Not far from the movie theatre, positioned directly amidst the pool of light from one of the working streetlights so that you couldn’t miss it, there was a holographic wanted poster. A wanted poster with a reward, what was more: three million lien for the capture of Feathers Markinson. The holographic image displayed a chicken faunus, or a rooster faunus, given that he seemed to be a guy, with a bright red frill on top of an otherwise bald head, and a pair of beady black eyes that, when the hologram stopped rotating, seemed to be staring right at Rainbow Dash.

He wasn’t someone that Rainbow had heard of before, and she found herself wondering idly what he’d done to get a bounty like that put on his head as she moved on down the street.

Whoever he was, she was sure that some huntsman would bring him in; three million lien wasn’t something to be sneezed at.

For herself, she hadn’t come here to hunt down criminals. And so she kept on walking, moving through the streets, past late-night diners and trashcans overflowing with rubbish, stepping around the discarded beer cans, the broken bottles or the half-eaten burgers and fries in their polystyrene boxes that lay on the pavement, walking past the people who ignored her as she passed by as she made her way towards her destination.

Said destination was easily recognisable by the bright neon green cross over the door. Soft green light spilled out from the windows into the street beyond, despite the ornate metal bars placed in front of said windows to protect them.

It was a free clinic, run by Doctor Polendina’s brother Pietro. He was said to be every bit as brilliant as his brother — and Rainbow found him to be a good deal nicer too — but after … well, Rainbow didn’t know the exact details of what had happened. She’d only met Pietro once, when Penny was very new — General Ironwood had introduced her and Ciel to the Polendina brothers quite early on — and she wasn’t privy to all the developments. All she knew was that Pietro had been banished from the project, and he had gone back here, to this clinic in Mantle where he did prosthetic work for those that needed it.

Ciel thought he was wasting his talents; Rainbow thought it was as well somebody was, or a whole lot of people would be going around without limbs.

As Rainbow crossed the street to reach the clinic, the door opened, and a young woman — a rabbit faunus, with a pair of ears sticking out of her hair — stepped out, moving her prosthetic arm in windmills. “Thanks, Doc!” she called out, before looking around to see Rainbow Dash approaching.

The smile died from her face. She bowed her head as though Rainbow would take offence at her presence, and she began to walk with a quick stride — that was almost a run — away from Rainbow and the clinic.

Rainbow watched her go for a moment, wondering what that was about. It was probably because she saw the weapons and realised that Rainbow was connected to Atlas.

Atlas … was not very popular in Mantle. It was so unpopular that there was a criminal group running around dedicated to overthrowing it, and they were local heroes.

Which I guess is a pretty good reason not to let people have guns.

Anyway, Rainbow dismissed the thought and focussed on the things that she was actually here for. She pushed open the door to the clinic and stepped inside.

Inside was emptier than she’d expected, with a lot of open floor with nothing on it. There was a bed in one corner of the large room that confronted her, a desk on the other side of it, some technical instruments here and there, a bookshelf — filled with mostly books, but also a few curios and knickknacks — sitting against the back wall, but overall, there was just a lot of wooden floor, where the varnish looked as it was being worn away by repeated footfalls.

Pietro Polendina was the younger brother — if only by a little bit — but he looked older, his hair having completely turned to white, and Rainbow knew that it was mostly gone too, although the brown cap he was wearing disguised his baldness, covering the top of his head and leaving only his crown of white hair visible. He was heavyset, with thick arms and a visible paunch, and he was sat upon a four-legged robotic chair that did all of his walking for him. He was dressed in a pale yellow shirt with a dark red waistcoat, brown pants the same shade as his hat, and a very large pink bow tie. The only time Rainbow had met him, he had seemed to be trying a bit too hard to hit the eccentric professor vibe … but maybe that was unfair.

As she walked in, Pietro pushed the small, round spectacles that sat on his nose a little further up. “Rainbow Dash?” he asked, in a voice rendered a little hoarse by the years.

Rainbow let the door swing shut behind her. “I’m impressed you remember, Doctor, considering you only met me once.”

“Maybe, but how could I forget Penny’s team leader — or that magnificent hair of yours?” Pietro asked. He chuckled. “You know, all Japeth could think about was whether or not you were going to be competent enough for your mission, but when you walked in with General Ironwood, the only thing I could think of was ‘darn, we should have given Penny rainbow hair.’”

Rainbow laughed. “That would be … something, sure,” she admitted. “But I think the hair you gave her suits Penny best.”

“She is a pretty girl, isn’t she?” Pietro asked. “How’s she doin’?”

“She … Penny … well, that’s what I’m here to talk to you about, Doctor, if that’s okay,” Rainbow said. “I know it’s sudden, me just dropping in like this, but—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Pietro assured her. “What am I going to do, tell you to get lost and lose my only chance to hear about my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” Rainbow repeated. “I thought … we think … I thought you were her uncle.”

“'Uncle,'” Pietro said scornfully. “I suppose I should be thanking Japeth for giving me that much credit. But I put as much work into Penny as he did, so why shouldn’t I be her father as much as he is? Especially when I … never mind. Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen, and we can sit down and have a talk?”

“Are you sure?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, what if someone comes in?”

“Then I’ll take care of it,” Pietro said. “I’m sure I’ll be able to hear them hollering. Come on. I want to hear everything.”

No, I’m not sure you do, Rainbow thought, but Pietro had already turned away and began to walk on his four robotic legs in the direction of a door leading into the back of the building.

The front door opened behind Rainbow Dash, who turned to see a penguin faunus with bare, unshod penguin feet and legs emerging out of the bottom of his trousers. He was a short man, but broad-shouldered, wearing a black suit with a white shirt and no tie. He was bald, with beady black eyes that stared at Rainbow Dash as he came to an abrupt halt halfway through the door.

He blinked said beady eyes rapidly as his gaze fell to the guns Rainbow was wearing on her waist.

The guns for which Rainbow felt an instinctual desire to reach.

The penguin faunus tensed.

Rainbow’s hands clenched into fists on instinct.

“Oh!” Pietro cried. “Welcome back! This is Rainbow Dash; she’s a friend of my daughter from Atlas. She came by to tell me all about how she’s doing. Rainbow, this is my lodger; I didn’t catch his name. Poor fellow doesn’t speak a word.”

The lodger seemed to visibly relax as he smiled at Rainbow and nodded eagerly. He pointed upwards and began to walk across the floor towards the staircase leading up to the second floor. His penguin feet made a very distinctive flip flop sound as he moved.

“You’ll be down for dinner later?” Pietro asked.

The lodger nodded twice, that smile still on his face, then began to pad up the stairs. Halfway up, he turned and stared at Rainbow Dash for a second, then turned back and disappeared out of sight.

“Running a free clinic doesn’t exactly make money,” Pietro explained. “I had to let the spare room out in order to help keep the lights on. He’s not much of a talker, true, but for a paying guest, he’s very obliging. Even makes me breakfast in the morning before he heads out to do … whatever it is he does.”

The sound of heavy guitar riffs and loud singing began to echo down from upstairs.

This will be the day we’ve waited for!

This will be the day we open up the door!

“He does like his music, though,” Pietro said.

“Mm, I’m more of a soft pop girl myself,” Rainbow muttered.

“Well, anyway,” Pietro said. “Come along on through.”

Pietro resumed his journey into the back, and Rainbow followed him into a kitchen with white tiles on the floor and walls, and a white island in the middle of the room while black cupboards at a height convenient for Pietro in his chair lined the walls on either side.

“Sit down,” he urged, gesturing with one hand to the island and the stools that surrounded it. He himself opened up one of the black cupboards and began to rummage around in it. “Now, where did I … where is that … no, it’s not there, maybe it’s in the next one.”

“You need any help?”

“No, no,” Pietro assured her. “Besides, if I can’t find anything in this place, I don’t know how you’d be expected to after just walking in here. Ah! Here it is.” He pulled a little metal coffee pot out of the cupboard, dislodging in the process a whisk and a sieve that clattered to the floor.

“I’ll get them,” Rainbow said, getting up and bending down to put the discarded objects away. In that way, with Rainbow clearing up after Pietro as he got things out of the cupboards with a complete lack of concern for what else came tumbling out along the way, they got to the point where Pietro had made two cups of coffee and placed them on the island between himself and Rainbow Dash.

“Thanks, Doctor,” Rainbow said.

“Oh, you can drop all that ‘doctor’ stuff,” Pietro said. “This isn’t Atlas, and you’re not my patient. Pietro will be fine. After all, you’re one of Penny’s friends.”

Rainbow made an uncomfortable noise from the back of her throat. “Well … you know what, you want to see Penny’s friends, look at this.”

She pulled her scroll out of her jacket, opened up the photo album, and flicked through it until she found a picture from the day that they’d all come to Beacon, specifically, a photo from the arcade where Ruby and Pyrrha had taken Penny after they’d met. The picture showed the three of them stood in front of a video game, with Penny beaming as she had her arms wrapped around their waists. Ruby was beaming too, while Pyrrha’s smile was softer but no less fond.

“The little girl on the right is Ruby Rose,” Rainbow said. “The tall redhead on the left is Pyrrha Nikos.”

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Pietro murmured. “I recognise that girl.”

“The Asclepius Institute?” Rainbow guessed. She didn’t remember meeting Pietro there, but as a brilliant scientist with an expertise in prosthetics and an interest in helping people, it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that he would have been involved.

“That’s right, yes!” Pietro cried. “The Mistralian girl, famous fighter, came over to help raise money. I didn’t know she’d stuck around in Atlas after.”

“She didn’t,” Rainbow said. “Ruby and Pyrrha are Beacon students, and they met Penny in Vale. We’ve been at Beacon for most of the last year.”

“'At Beacon'?” Pietro repeated. “Well, I guess it is the Vytal Festival in Vale this year—”

“We were there a little earlier than the rest of the Atlas students,” Rainbow said. “Penny … ran away.”

“'Ran away'?” Pietro repeated.

Rainbow nodded. “To Vale. We tracked her down there, but she didn’t want to come back to Atlas, so we persuaded General Ironwood to let us stick around at Beacon, and that’s where we’ve been for pretty much the entire of the last two semesters.”

Pietro stared at her for a moment. Then he let out a great guffaw from out of his belly. “Did you now? I bet Japeth was thrilled to hear about that!”

“I … don’t know,” Rainbow said. “We didn’t talk to him.”

“Oh, I can guess exactly how he reacted, and if I’m right, then it wasn’t pretty,” Pietro said. He lifted up his coffee cup, blew on the steaming liquid within, and took a sip. “But Penny made friends while she was there at Beacon? This Ruby and Pyrrha?”

Rainbow nodded.

“And what about you?” Pietro asked. “And Twilight and Ciel?”

“We…” Rainbow hesitated. “Some of us have tried harder than others,” she admitted. “I was … preoccupied. That’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation. There was … I met…” She closed her eyes, and bought herself a little time by drinking some of her own coffee in turn. “There was a girl at Beacon who interested me more than Penny did, and I thought … I got caught up in helping her, and I guess I kind of forgot what I was supposed to be doing. Ciel tried harder, a lot harder; she really cares about Penny, but the problem is that Penny—”

“Sees her as someone that Japeth and Ironwood put in charge of her,” Pietro finished.

Rainbow was sitting hunched down, very low to the island; as a result, she was able to look up and into Pietro’s eyes despite her height. “How did you guess?”

“You told me when you told me that Penny ran away,” Pietro said. “She wouldn’t have done it unless—”

“She was unhappy?”

“She wanted to be free,” Pietro murmured. He sighed. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I told Japeth, I told him, you can’t bring a life into the world, then dictate how it lives! It isn’t right!”

“Then why did you do it?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, I know why Doctor Polendina did it — he wanted to secure his legacy and create something the likes of which no one had ever created before — but you? Why did you help him, if you thought that way?”

Pietro was silent for a moment. “It was an idea that we’d had for some time,” he admitted. “It wasn’t even our idea, really; the concept of a robot that could love, dream, feel, that’s been around as long as robots itself. Ever since we were studying robotics, we used to talk about how it might be possible. Eventually, we realised that the only way that it could ever happen was to give this hypothetical robot a soul.

“Neither of us have any flesh and blood children. We’ve got no family at all, except for each other; we had a sister, but she died a long time ago, and she never left any relatives either. I suppose the idea of having a child … it appealed to us, though not for the same reasons.” He chuckled. “Someone to call me Dad and run around the place, making a mess — making more of a mess than I make for myself. It was Japeth who decided to go to the military for funding to make it happen. We’d worked for them before on various projects — nearly every big research project is sponsored by the military one way or another — but this felt … different than building a bigger gun or a smart weapons platform. Japeth told me not to worry about it, we were fleecing Ironwood and the Council, we were going to take their money and make our dreams come true. But, as time went by, and we started working on an in-built weapon system … that got harder to believe. Perhaps I should have quit then, but the truth is … I wanted to see Penny open her eyes. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to know her, and I wanted her to know me.”

“But eventually, you couldn’t swallow it any more?” Rainbow asked quietly.

Pietro shook his head. “I couldn’t … we’d created a baby girl, and Japeth was willing to just stand aside while Ironwood took her away from us and sent her off to war. How was I supposed to just stay quiet about that? I couldn’t! I told him that it wasn’t right, what we’d done, what he was planning to do, I told him that it needed to be stopped. And he rewarded me by kicking me off the project and banning me from my own daughter’s life! Calling me her uncle!” he harrumphed indignantly. “Tell me something, Rainbow Dash: do you care about Penny?”

Rainbow nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I care about her. A little late, maybe, but I care about her. I want her to be happy.”

“And she isn’t happy now, is she?”

Rainbow straightened up. “She wants to stay at Beacon, when the Vytal Festival is over. She doesn’t want to go back to Atlas, she doesn’t want to stay here, she doesn’t want to wear the whites. I’ve promised to help make that happen.”

“Then you’d better keep that promise,” Pietro declared. “Not for my sake, or yours, but for hers. Freedom … should be the right of all sentient beings, and Penny shouldn’t be excluded from that just because she has nuts and bolts instead of guts.”

Rainbow pushed the stool back. It scraped loudly on the floor as she got up. “I … I’m not sure how much the word of an Atlas student counts with you, after everything that’s happened, but for what it’s worth, I give you mine.”

Pietro stared into Rainbow’s eyes. “Well, okay then,” he said. “I guess that’s good enough for me.”

“Thank you,” Rainbow murmured. “Doc— Pietro, do you … about your brother, about Doctor Polendina, do you… do you know—?”

“That he’s dying?” Pietro asked. “Yes, I know. He got the initial diagnosis before we had our … falling out. How is he?”

“Taking medication,” Rainbow said. “Sometimes. Other times he’s … why don’t you ask him yourself?”

“We haven’t spoken since we had our argument; why would he want to talk to me?” Pietro asked.

“Because he’s dying?” Rainbow asked.

“He was dying when he threw me out,” Pietro pointed out.

“Yeah, but … I think he’s getting worse,” Rainbow said. “I don’t know, I’m not a doctor, and I don’t really know how to … anyway, that’s not the real point, the real point is that I think you should talk to Penny about it.”

Pietro’s expression softened. “Does she know?”

Rainbow nodded. “Yes, she does.”

“Oh, gods,” Pietro murmured. “And how’s she taking it?”

Rainbow spread her hands. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know because she hasn’t talked to me about it. Not to me or Ciel or Twilight or Ruby or Pyrrha or Sunset—”

“Who?”

“Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire; I’ll tell you all the fun stuff in a little bit,” Rainbow promised. “But first … I don’t know how Penny is dealing with the fact that her father is dying, and I think that … I was hoping that you would talk to her about it, because I think that she should probably talk to someone, and I’m guessing that you’d like to talk to her, and because … bluntly, your brother is dying as well, so you can probably relate.”

“That was pretty blunt,” Pietro agreed. “But I can’t say I don’t understand what you’re talking about. And I would love to speak to Penny, although I wish it was under happier circumstances. Japeth didn’t exactly give me her number—”

Rainbow held up her scroll. “I’ve got it right here.”

Pietro smiled. “Thank you kindly,” he said. “Now, why don’t you tell me about some of this ‘fun stuff’?”

Ciel’s cloak swirled around her as she walked through the streets of Mantle towards home. Said streets were dark, the lights were broken; for that reason amongst others, she kept her purse open so that she could grab her pistol should she have need of it.

Mantle … Mantle was her home, and yet, it was not. It was where her parents had been born, both of them, but Ciel had lived in other places besides, and places which she had, in all honesty, preferred: the base in Vacuo, for one. Yes, it had been hot and sandy, but there had been plenty of open space and less … less vice, for one thing.

Still, Mantle was not without its pleasures: church, Neon, family — although the last one would have held true anywhere. But duty did not care for personal preferences, and it had brought father, and father had brought the family with him. Mantle was her home in the sense at least that it was where Ciel and her family had lived for several years, although most of those years, she had been either at combat school or at Atlas.

And she was a Mantle girl, born to Mantle parents, resident in Mantle, with no claim upon the city — rather than the kingdom — of Atlas. She was a flower of the north, but a flower nurtured in all respects in Mantle soil.

And yet, she did not like her home.

If she had not chosen to go to Atlas Academy, if she had not chosen to become a Specialist, if she had done as she told Penny she perhaps should have done and gotten a job to help support her family, then she would not have remained in Mantle; rather, she would have gone to Atlas, like Rainbow’s friend Rarity. She would have gotten away from all of this, all of the dirt and the misery and the hopelessness and the…

Ciel stopped as she rounded a corner and was confronted with a sight that she scarcely knew how to describe.

In the middle of the street, there sat a bar; although the street lights were working here — Ciel almost rather they were not — the lights that were supposed to illuminate the name of the establishment were not, and although the doors were open and lights were spilling out into the street, they did not do so at the right angle to light up the sign over the door.

In any case, Ciel was more concerned with all the bodies lying in the road. They were not dead; they were moving and twitching and groaning. Not dead, no, but dead drunk for sure; they sat slumped over the outside tables, some of them, but most of them simply lay in the road, where they would have blocked the traffic if there had been any traffic to speak of, or else lying on top of the cars parked along the side of the pavement. Some of them still had the bottles in their hands or lying nearby.

It was like the aftermath of a battle, but the only battle lost here had been the battle these people had lost against their own self-control.

“Oompah-pah, oompah-pah, everyone knows,” one drunken man sang softly, his slurred voice cutting through the otherwise quiet night air.

He was interrupted by the sound of a baby crying.

Ciel stopped, her eyes sweeping over the scene of ruin, passing over the drunken men and women, those passed out, those awake but in a stupor, the dogs that sat beside them or walked between them or urinated on them. She passed over all of them, searching for— there! A woman sat with her back to a battered vehicle, a vacant look and a silly grin upon her face, and in her lap, a baby sat, squalling and shivering.

The child was unwrapped, exposed to the cold — yes, Mantle had a heating grid, but there was a bit of a chill in the air — waving its hands and feet in the air, trying fruitlessly to attract the attention of its mother.

Ciel froze. She was not sure of what to do. Humanity dictated that she help the child, but where could she take it? Not to her home; to the church maybe? To the police station? But then, how would their mother get them back again? Did they deserve to have their child back?

Was it her place to decide that?

Perhaps not, but she could not pass by and simply leave the poor thing. Ciel took a step forward.

At that moment, however, a woman emerged from out of the bar, wearing a lavender headscarf and carrying a brown shawl, fringed with white lace, in her arms. She walked quickly towards the mother and baby, skipping lightly around the other drunks as she did so, and scooped the screaming child up in her arms, wrapping it up in her shawl.

She noticed Ciel looking at her and smiled, “She’s always bringing her baby with her and then getting like this. Poor thing, I don’t think that she’s got anywhere she can leave him. Never mind, I’ll look after him until she comes round. Won’t I darling, eh? You and me? Coochie-coo!” she waggled her fingers in the baby’s face.

“Perhaps you should think about not serving her quite so much alcohol,” Ciel said coldly.

The woman sniffed. “It’s a free kingdom!” she declared. “So long as she has the lien to pay for what she orders, why should I care?” She turned and stalked off, back into the bar, taking the baby with her.

Ciel was left standing outside, looking at all these people scattered around her like the last survivor of a great disaster, left to observe the detritus and weep.

She did not weep, although a part of her felt like it, though whether she would have been weeping for the baby, for these people, or for herself, she could not have said.

She hated this city. She hated this place that was her home, and out of which she sprang. She hated it. She hated how wretched it was, how downtrodden and pushed down it was, how dirty and decaying it was, she hated how degenerate and sinful it was, she hated so much about it, and yet, she struggled to think of a single thing she loved that could not be transplanted elsewhere. Even her church could be found in Atlas.

Yes, Atlas is where she would have made her home even had she not gone to Atlas Academy. Atlas was where she would make her home in between missions and assignments. Atlas was the north’s future. Mantle was … an embarrassment. A dying relic, and the swifter it finally gave up the ghost, the better.

And yet, at the same time, the state of Mantle gave her pause, for … how had it been allowed to get like this? How had the greatest kingdom in Remnant allowed its second city to fall so far?

Why had nothing been done? Why was nothing being done? Why were people being allowed to languish in such a state?

What could be done? Ciel did not know; she did not have the vision of a Blake Belladonna or the optimism of a Rainbow Dash.

All things would be as God and the Lady disposed. But she sometimes wished they would hurry up and dispose of Mantle.

No, that was … that was wrong. It was not for her to think such things. All men were beloved of God, and the Lady watched over all the children of the north, no matter how far they strayed from her teachings and how much Ciel disliked them.

She had better get away from here; the sight of sin was breeding sin in her.

Ciel silently begged forgiveness as she walked on, leaving this beer alley behind and proceeding down streets lined on either side with terraced houses; despite the fact that this was a residential area, the roads were quiet; she did not encounter another living soul down any one of them; everyone was either inside or elsewhere in the city. She didn’t meet anyone else as she made her way to her own family home, which sat at the very end of the terrace.

Ciel wasn’t home often enough to have a key of her own, and so she knocked on the blue front door of the narrow house.

She heard a muffled sound from inside. There was a pause, in which Ciel waited on the doorstep, still and silent, her breath lightly misting up in front of her.

Then the door opened, and a column of warm golden light spilled out into the dark street beyond, light interrupted only by the form of Ciel’s eldest brother — though still younger than her, as all her brothers were — Florentin. Despite being four years younger than she was, he was already an inch taller than her — and he looked taller still, since Ciel was stood below him on the doorstep — and broader in the shoulders, while the peach fuzz on his cheeks spoke loud and clear of the onset of puberty. Otherwise, they looked much alike, with the same blue eyes set in faces of the same complexion, and the same soft black hair, although Florentine wore his long in a ponytail falling down his neck and back.

Ciel smiled with her mouth closed. “Good evening, Florentin.”

Florentin smiled with his teeth, his eyes brightening as he said, “'Good evening, Florentin'? Your first time back home in eight months, and you stand there and say ‘good evening, Florentin’? What are you like, honestly, come here!” He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, pulling her into a bearhug that left her legs dangling off the ground.

“Florentin,” Ciel said, squirming a little in his embrace, “this is—”

“This is how you say welcome home, big sister,” Florentin said with a laugh, before he put her down on the floor inside the house and shut the door behind her. “Hey, everyone!” he shouted down the hallway. “Ciel is home!”

The hallway had one door to the left which led into the living room, one door further on straight ahead which led into the kitchen, and the staircase to the right. Both the doors now opened, and Tyson, Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier poured out from both the rooms; Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier all ran towards her, while Tyson, only a year younger than Florentin for all that the age gap looked much more than that, kept to a brisk walk behind them.

“Ciel!”

“How long are you back for?”

“How was Vale?”

“Did you fight in the battle? Was it glorious?”

“Is there still going to be a Vytal Festival?”

“Yes, there will be a Vytal Festival,” Ciel said. “I do not know how long I will be back, and I fought in several battles, but the glory gained must be said to have varied considerably. And it is very nice to see all of you.”

“Wait for me!” Alain called as he hobbled out of the kitchen, some distance behind his brothers. His wooden crutch thumped upon the hallway floor as he tried to catch up. He was her youngest brother at just five years old, but from looks alone, he seemed, if anything, as though he might be younger still, so small was he. His cheeks were soft, and his blue eyes gleamed as bright as stars within his face. As he walked forward, limping and leaning on his crutch, his breathing became more ragged and uneven. “Ciel,” he gasped. “Ciel, you … you came…” he began to splutter, and then to cough with increasing violence until he seemed as though he might double over from it.

Maurice and Aurelien made way as Ciel strode forward, reaching him where he could no longer come to her.

“Oh, you’ve got yourself too excited,” Ciel murmured as she knelt down in front of him. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with both hands. “There’s no need to get worked up on my account, no need at all. Now let’s get you sat down in your chair.” She stood up, and picked him up, and sat him down upon her shoulder; he weighed less than a fully-laden bag of books for all that Ciel could feel the metal brace beneath his clothes, and he barely came any higher than her head. Nevertheless, Ciel ducked down a little, bending her knees as she carried him into the kitchen.

She found Mother there, stood in front of the stove; the matriarch of the Soleil family was a woman whom years and seven children had bestowed a matronly figure upon, her dark hair worn in dreadlocks cut above the shoulders. She was just tasting something from out of a pot cooking on the oven when Ciel came in. She looked up, looked at Ciel, and nodded without saying a word.

Ciel nodded back, also without a word, and carried Alain into the dining room and sat him down upon his chair, which was elevated to enable him to reach the dining table.

His breathing seemed improved already, for all that he was still taking great gulps of air; nevertheless, he managed to say, “I missed you.”

Ciel smiled. “I missed you too, ma cher,” she said, and kissed him on the forehead. “But I just need to go and speak to Mother for a minute.”

She left him sat there, alone for now — but hopefully, his brothers would keep him company — as she returned to the kitchen.

“Mother,” she said, curtsying.

Her mother did not look at her. “How’s school?”

I’m about to torpedo my career for Penny’s sake. “I continue to score well,” Ciel said.

“I heard all about the battle in Vale, the Breach they’re calling it, right?”

Ciel nodded. “Indeed.”

“Were you there?”

“No,” Ciel admitted. “But I was involved in the actions surrounding it.”

Mother looked at her. “Can you talk about it?”

“No,” Ciel replied. “It is all classified.”

“But you did not disgrace yourself?”

“No,” Ciel agreed. Although I do not have the right to say that I distinguished myself, either.

“Good,” Mother said, and she turned to Ciel to plant a kiss upon each of her cheeks. “Welcome home.”

Ciel smiled. “Thank you, Mother. Where is Father?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“Out,” Mother repeated. “I know no more than that, save that he will be back in time for dinner, which is not for nearly an hour yet at least, so you’ll have plenty of time to tell all your stories to the boys.”

“I am no great teller of stories,” Ciel murmured.

“Try anyway,” Mother told her. “They want to hear about your adventures, Aurelien and Alain especially.”

Ciel frowned. “How is Alain?”

Mother sighed, and looked down at the floor as her hands began to play with her apron. Her voice was very quiet. “The doctor says … there is not long left.”

“Lady let it not be so,” Ciel murmured. “Is there nothing that can be done?”

“Nothing that we can afford,” Mother replied.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. She began to unfasten her cloak. “I … I have a teammate, Twilight Sparkle; her family is not ill-endowed, and her sister-in-law is on the Council; perhaps I could ask her to lend me the money—”

“'Lend'?” Mother asked. “And how will you repay it?”

“Give, then,” Ciel said. “Please do not tell me that you would put your pride over Alain’s life.”

“We are talking about millions of lien,” Mother said. “Nearly three million for the treatments required. Does your teammate have that kind of money to give away?”

Ciel closed her eyes. “No,” she admitted. “No, I do not believe she does. And there is nothing else?”

“Nothing but prayer,” Mother said, “and faith.”

“Prayer and faith, aye,” Ciel murmured. She had been praying to the lady for Alain ever since he was diagnosed. Her prayers had not been answered yet.

But the Lady moved in her own ways, however mysterious they might seem to outsiders; who was to say that a miracle would not yet come?

And yet it had not come yet, and it seemed that there was little time left.

Yet what could they do but pray on, and hope with what little hope remained?

“Can you do something for me?” Mother said. She turned across the kitchen and picked up a vacuum flask that had been sitting opposite the oven. “Will you take this to Mrs. Peterson’s apartment? Poor dear, she’s been unwell the last few days; can’t go shopping or even move around her own home much. I’ve been making her soup and broth. Take it to her, pour it into a bowl, maybe heat it up in the microwave, but you don’t need to stay and watch her eat it.”

“I can do that,” Ciel agreed. “But I thought you wanted me to tell stories to the boys.”

Mother smiled. “This won’t take you very long. You still remember where her apartment is?”

“Unless she’s moved, then yes,” Ciel said. Mrs. Peterson was a member of their church; her husband had died of cancer a few years ago, and her son had become a soldier and unfortunately died in the field; she was all alone now, save for her fellow congregants, who took care of her.

“Thank you,” Mother said. “I would ask Florentin, but he got into a fight recently, and I’m not sure I should let him out of the house.”

“'A fight'?” Ciel asked. “What kind of fight?”

“I’ll tell you when you get back,” Mother said. “Or he can. But you should hurry; even in that flask, that stew won’t stay warm forever.”

“Right,” Ciel murmured as she put her cloak back on and took the flask from her mother’s hands. She stuck her head around the door. “I’m just going out on an errand; I’ll be back soon,” she promised.

“I’ll be waiting,” Alain said.

“We’ll all be waiting,” Aurelien added.

“What kind of errand?” Florentin asked.

“Mrs. Peterson’s dinner,” Ciel replied.

“I could do that,” Florentin said. “Give it to me, and you can—”

“Mother asked me to do this,” Ciel said.

Florentin’s eyes darkened. “Oh. Well then you’d better go on and do it then, hadn’t you?”

Ciel did not respond to that except to say, “I will be back soon.”

And then she turned away, her cloak swirling around her, and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall — her footsteps tapped upon the wood beneath her — and out of the door and back into the cold night air of Mantle.

She stood outside for a moment, in the dark, her breath misting up behind her.

Lady of the North, look down upon my brother Alain with mercy. Grant him his health once more, I beg of you. Let him live. Let him live, and grow, and love, and have children who will call me Aunt Ciel and mock me for my eccentricities.

Or kill me. You may withdraw your protection from me in the field, you may strike me down, you may render me as barren as a leafless tree, but please, I beg you, let him live.

If my words have ever moved you at all, if my service has ever touched your heart, then please, hear my prayer now if never before or never since.

From Heaven, there came no response. No word, no sound, nothing but silence.

Ciel was reminded uncomfortably of Salem’s words underneath Mountain Glenn; what if the reason the Lady was refusing to answer their prayers for Alain was because the Lady was no more, because she had never been anything more than a woman dead long ago, dead at the hands of one of Salem’s agents?

What if she could not help Alain and never could have?

Ciel shook her head. No, no she could not believe that; she could not allow herself to believe that, words without thoughts never to Heaven went, and no prayers would be answered for one whose faith was not as certain as a rock.

Which meant that hers were doomed to go unanswered. For now, and perhaps forever. For the seed of doubt that Salem had planted in her mind had not yet perished.

Ciel shook her head. She wiped at her face with one hand. Foolishness, to stand here like this and dwell on what she could not change. She had best get this errand run; delivering a hot meal to Mrs. Peterson was something which she could do, at least.

She walked through the streets, heading towards Mrs. Peterson’s apartment block — she was even less fortunate than Ciel’s family and lived in a flat instead of a terrace — through streets which were, unfortunately, more often unlit than had any working streetlights. Maintenance here was not done often enough, and most often amounted to sticking plasters than to the necessary repairs.

One street, about halfway between her home and her destination, had only a single working streetlight, a single pool of light in a road otherwise succumbed to darkness. It was from out of that darkness that, as Ciel walked down the pavement, a voice spoke.

“You know, it’s kind of dangerous for a good girl like you to be wandering around a rough neighbourhood like this at this time of night.” Neon Katt stepped into the spotlight, dressed in a bright blue parka with a fur trimmed hood, and vibrant pink pants. Her roller skates were not in evidence, although she was still wearing her crash-pads on her arms and legs. She grinned. “Good thing I was passing, huh?”

“How did you know I’d be here?” Ciel asked.

Neon shrugged. “Your mother has been sending meals to Mrs. Peterson, bless her, and I thought that she’d send you once you came back, especially after Florentin got into that bit of trouble.”

“Do you know what that was about?” asked Ciel, as she began to walk towards Neon.

“Yes,” Neon admitted. “But I’ll let him tell you.”

“Or you could tell me,” Ciel suggested.

“I could, but I won’t,” Neon replied. “Just take it from me: give the kid some credit when you find out the truth; he was trying to do the right thing.”

“He is hardly a kid,” Ciel said. “He is almost a man.”

“He’s fourteen; give him a break.”

“There is a student at Beacon who is fifteen and risking her life to defend the realms of men,” Ciel pointed out.

Neon chuckled.

“What?” Ciel demanded.

“Nothing; I’ll just let him tell you,” Neon said. “So, do you want some company or not?”

Ciel hesitated. Then she sighed, and as she sighed, her whole body sagged forward. “I would welcome it,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Neon said, taking Ciel’s arm as they began to walk together, side by side. “Plus, I might try and slide in to your place on the way back and see if I can get an invite to dinner.”

Ciel snorted. “I’m sure that Mother would be happy to have you.” She paused. “No rollerstakes?”

“On these road surfaces, are you kidding?” Neon said. “I’d spend more time falling over than getting any place.” She took pause in turn. “How’s Alain?”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “Not good, I’m told,” she murmured.

Neon winced. “Is there anything that I can—?”

“Not unless you have millions of lien spare,” Ciel muttered.

Neon placed her other hand on Ciel’s shoulder. “And how are you doing?”

Ciel swallowed. “I … I am … my brother is dying; Penny wants to leave, and the only way that I can show her how much I care about her is to let her go; and I hate this city. That is how I’m doing, Neon.”

Neon looked at her in silence. Then she pulled Ciel into a hug, not tight like Florentin’s or Penny’s embraces, a gentle clasp that Ciel could have left at any time.

Save that she did not want to.

“I wish that there was something I could do to help you,” Neon murmured as she put one hand on the back of Ciel’s head.

“I know,” Ciel whispered.

“And if there is anything that I can do,” Neon said. “Just let me know.”

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re already doing it.”

She would have liked to have stayed that way for quite some time: warm, held, accepted, tickled by one of Neon’s twintails brushing against the tip of her nose.

But the stew would be getting cold in the flask, and so, Ciel stepped away, and the two of them resumed their journey.

“I get what’s happening with Alain,” Neon said. “And I’m sorry about Penny, even though I also think that you shouldn’t blame yourself—”

“No?”

“It’s not your fault if people don’t get you,” Neon insisted. “And you shouldn’t have to spend your whole life running after the approval of people who don’t get you. If Penny doesn’t appreciate you for what you are and how great you are, then that’s her problem, not yours.”

“Even if I desire her … appreciation?” Ciel asked.

“Why would you, at that price?”

“It isn’t like that.”

“It sounds like that.”

“But it isn’t,” Ciel insisted. “Penny is … it’s wrong to hold her to the same standards as you or I; she is… I can’t explain it to you, I’m sorry.”

Neon shrugged. “You feel how you feel, I guess. But what’s up with Mantle?”

“What isn’t up with Mantle?” Ciel muttered. “I came across a beer alley on my way home. All of these people passed out or comatose outside the bar, insensibly drunk. One woman had a baby with her, who might have frozen outside if the landlord or the landlord’s wife hadn’t gotten them inside until the mother came round. Even then, she didn’t seem to realise that she had done anything wrong in plying these people so with drink. It is … disgusting.”

“It sounds like it,” Neon agreed. “But … maybe you should ask why they were drinking so much in the first place?”

Ciel glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this place sucks; what else is there to do except get drunk?” Neon demanded. “By the time working hours are over, it’s only bars and the movies that are still open, and a movie ticket costs a day’s wages these days. So people drink, and sometimes, they drink too much, but maybe instead of blaming them, maybe blame the fact that they’ve got nothing else to do. Or the fact that their lives are so awful that they want to black them out.”

“What about personal responsibility?” Ciel asked. “What about the responsibility a mother owes her child?”

“It’s not good,” Neon replied. “But it’s not entirely their fault.”

“No, you say it is the city’s fault,” Ciel said. “That does not make Mantle any less hateful.”

Neon chuckled. “No, I guess it doesn’t, does it? What a town, huh?”

Ciel sighed. “Indeed.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I have been terribly rude and self-absorbed; how are you, Neon?”

“No, you haven’t,” Neon assured her. “And I’m, well, you know me. My mom has a new job, though.”

“Really?” Ciel asked. “Where?”

“You know that hotel they’ve been building over some of the old mining tunnels for the last five years?”

“The hotel that nobody asked for,” Ciel murmured.

“I get why people are upset about it, but isn’t it about time something new went up in this city?” Neon asked. “I mean, people are saying that if Mantle gets redeveloped, they won’t be able to afford to live here any more, but who would want to move here from Atlas or Crystal City? Plus, it provides jobs to people like my mom. She’s the new general manager."

“Good for her, and I mean that sincerely,” Ciel declared. “Is she very pleased with herself?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Good,” Ciel said. “She deserves to be proud. It is good to know that someone in Mantle is prospering, at least.”

They walked on a little way, in comfortable silence, before Neon said, “Hey, while you’re still back home, do you want to go to the museum with me? They’ve got some of the Mistralian crown jewels on exhibit.”

Ciel looked at her. “The Mistralian crown jewels? Here, in Mantle?”

Neon nodded. “Apparently, they were lent to us, and they’ve been on tour of Solitas. They’ve been to Canterlot, Crystal City, Atlas, and now they’re at the Mantle Museum of Antiquities before they go back to Mistral. Also, they’ve got some of the dresses worn by the last empress … I can’t remember her name, and by that princess who got torn apart by the mob after they lost the war.”

“The Empress’ name was Alexandra,” Ciel said. “And the princess was named Juturna. It is said that she foolishly ventured out into the streets, where the sight of her in her beauty and all her finery enraged all those whose kin would never return from the battlefield beyond restraint.” She paused. “Jewels and dresses?”

“Yeah.”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “Since when do you have any interest in jewels or dresses?”

“I like shiny things,” Neon protested.

Ciel smiled softly. “Thank you,” she said. “I should be glad of the distraction. And of the company.”

They made their way to Mrs. Peterson’s apartment block, a grey and concrete structure that looked miserable in the daylight and positively sinister in the darkness. There was a pool of something that Ciel very much hoped was water lying at the foot of the staircase that climbed up the building to the eighth floor on which Mrs. Peterson’s apartment was located.

The lights were all broken in the staircase, and Ciel found herself being guided by Neon’s feline eyes, who told her ‘step right; there’s some vomit on the left’ or ‘skip that step; it has dog muck on it’.

Ciel was a student of Atlas Academy, she had been chosen by General Ironwood himself for special missions, and yet, as she climbed that dark staircase, she found herself glad that Neon was with her, and not just because she could tell her to avoid the vomit and the dog muck. In the darkness, the growl of a bull terrier could sound like a beowolf, and the shape of a drunk or a homeless man sleeping not far from the stairs could seem like something far more sinister. Her ears listened intently for the sounds of any footsteps beside their own; was there someone coming up the stairs behind them, coming to meet them? Was that shape she saw an approaching menace? Mantle was an Atlesian city, it was protected by three layers of walls and a vast panoply of defensive weapons, and yet, she scarcely felt any safer here than she had underneath Mountain Glenn.

Surely, that could not be right, and if she felt that way, then how did those who had no aura feel?

I hate this city.

They reached the eighth floor, where there were at least some working lights as they turned off the stairs and walked along the exposed walkway that led to the apartments. They walked past silent doors, the paint peeling off, the numbers gone — fallen off or stolen — walls and doors covered with graffiti, until they came to Mrs. Peterson’s apartment. The door was white, and the paint looked fresher than some of the other doors; that was because Florentin had repainted it after someone had spray-painted a very rude word on it last year.

There was a welcome mat in front of the door, and that, at least, had not been taken.

Ciel knocked on the door. “Mrs. Peterson?”

There was no answer.

Ciel knocked again. “Mrs. Peterson, it’s Ciel Soleil, Helda’s daughter. I haven’t been to church in a while, I’ve been at school, but I hope you remember me. My mother sent me here with your dinner.” She knocked again. “Mrs. Peterson?”

“She is sick,” Neon said. “Maybe she can’t come to the door.”

“Then what are we to do?” Ciel asked.

Neon knelt down, and lifted up the welcome mat to reveal a key lying beneath. “Eh voila!”

“Bold of her to leave a key under the mat in a place like this,” Ciel muttered.

“Old folks remember when people used to be nice to one another,” Neon replied, as she unlocked the door with the spare key. “After you,” she said, pushing it open.

The apartment on the other side of the door was dark and quiet. Ciel stepped inside, fumbling for the light switch with her free hand. She found it, after some scraping her fingers against the wall, and the lights came on. Everything seemed to be in order, although it was still very quiet.

“Mrs. Peterson?” Ciel called out.

There was no answer. There was no sound at all.

Ciel had been here before — this wasn’t the first time that Mrs. Peterson had been in need of some assistance from the members of her church — and so she knew the way, not that there was much of a way to know; these apartments were rather small, and there were not many doors to choose from. Nevertheless, she knew which door led to Mrs. Peterson’s bedroom, and she made her way there with a few quick steps, rounding the open doorway to find Mrs. Peterson sitting up in bed.

There was an open book resting on her lap. A book with blood on the pages.

Mrs. Peterson’s blood.

Someone had stoved her head in. Her left temple had been crushed, like an egg cracked on the side of the table. It was … it was a grotesque sight.

Ciel turned away, a little gasp escaping her lips. She did not consider herself to be a squeamish person, she did not faint or grow squeamish at the sight of blood, but this? This was not death on the battlefield; this was Mantle! Whatever its faults, however far it had fallen, however much she detested the place, it remained an Atlesian city. A city under the rule of Atlesian law. And Mrs. Peterson … no soldier, no huntress, just an old woman. A frail old woman who posed no threat and did no harm and someone had … someone had come into her home and murdered her.

It was too much. It was all, all too much. The vacuum flask dropped from Ciel’s fingers. Her legs trembled beneath her and she stumbled, her shoulder colliding with the wall opposite her.

“Hey!” Neon cried. “Hey, Ciel, are you okay?”

“No,” Ciel murmured. “No, I fear not.”

My strength has been used up in appearing strong, and I have none left for when I need it.

Neon frowned and rubbed Ciel’s back with one hand. “Do you want to sit down?”

“In a dead woman’s house?” Ciel demanded.

“Good point,” Neon said softly. Her face was twisted with distaste and confusion, her mouth set in a sort of permanent wince as she glanced at Mrs. Peterson. “She was a nice old lady.”

Ciel nodded silently.

“Did she ever show you her father’s pistol that he brought home from the Great War?”

Ciel shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, she never showed me that. She showed me the watches that her husband had given her for their anniversaries, but not a pistol.”

Neon managed a slight smile. “I guess she knew what would interest us,” she said. “She lived through the Great War, didn’t she?”

“As a young girl, I believe,” Ciel said. “She never talked about it.”

“No, I asked her about it once, and she clammed up.”

“I can … understand why,” Ciel replied. “Those years … cannot have always been pleasant, not even for a child.”

“To live through that,” Neon muttered. “And then … it feels like we ought to cover her up, but … the police will want everything left as it was, won’t they?”

“Probably,” Ciel said quietly.

Neon was silent for a moment. “We should say a prayer, at least.”

Despite her doubts, Ciel nodded. “That … I am sure she would appreciate that.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Go on, then,” Neon prompted.

“You could do it,” Ciel pointed out.

“You know more of them than I do,” Neon replied. “I only know the one.”

Ciel straightened up. “If it is the one that I think it is, I cannot think of any that would be more appropriate.”

She would have felt like a fraud to have said the prayer now, besieged by doubt as she was. Nevertheless, she stepped away from the wall on which she had been leaning, closed her eyes, and bowed her head in prayer.

“Right,” Neon muttered. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “As the Lady said in days of old, so say we now:

“God prepares a table before me,

And sets a feast amongst the famine,

My cup overflows,

He anoints my head with oil,

And washes my feet,

Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me,

All the days of my life,

And I shall dwell in the house of God

Forevermore.”

Ciel opened her eyes. “It is well said,” she said softly.

If only she could still wholeheartedly believe it to be true.

Personal Justice (New)

Personal Justice

Neon sat on the ledge of the walkway running outside the apartment. Ciel stood straight, but with her back up against one of the columns that helped support the balcony above them.

Together, they watched as the paramedics wheeled Mrs. Peterson’s body out of her home.

She was covered, wrapped in a red bodybag, strapped down to the stretcher. Neither of the two paramedics said anything to the two of them as they bore the body away.

Neither Ciel nor Neon said anything to one another. It was … difficult to know what to say under the circumstances.

As the paramedics departed, the police officer who had arrived on the scene stepped out of the apartment. Only one police officer had arrived when they had called to report that Mrs. Peterson was dead. Only one.

One police officer, two paramedics, and Ciel and Neon. The only people who seemed to care, and it was doubtful if the paramedics or the officer actually did care, although Ciel found she hoped they did, at least a little.

It was not quite true that no one else would care; her mother would care, when she found out, and her father too and Florentin and the rest; Neon’s family would care; the congregation would care, but right now … a few people had wandered out when they heard the sirens of the ambulance to gawk, but they had all gone in again by now. In this whole building where she had lived, nobody cared.

Just as they hadn’t cared to take care of her when she was alive.

Ciel felt her brow knotting above her. She felt angry. Because of this, but also because … because of everything else, it was forming a knot in her stomach; she could feel it like the discomfort after overeating, except that there seemed less prospect of release. She was angry, angry at Mantle, angry at Penny … angry at God.

We are your faithful! We pray to you, we worship you, we honour you! So why does it seem as though you’re picking us off one by one?

She was not an idiot; she understood that the existence of God did not negate the existence of evil; she wasn’t so jejune and naïve that she could be turned aside from her faith by the question ‘ah, but why does God let people suffer?’ but at this time, under everything that was assailing her, under all the water that was deluging her, Ciel couldn’t help but wonder why the faithful seemed to be suffering more than the sinners.

Ciel closed her eyes. That was … that was not right, that was not… not the right thing to think; it was… her mind was clouded, her thoughts were unclear, but she knew that she should not be thinking this way.

But the anger in her stomach remained nonetheless.

Of course, there was one more person she was angry at: whoever had done this.

“You’re the two kids who called it in?” the police officer asked.

Ciel opened her eyes and looked up at the officer. He was dressed in plain clothes, in a suit that looked better cared for than the man who wore it; his age was difficult to determine, as old as Ciel’s father, perhaps a little older. His hair had almost completely disappeared, and the lines on his face seemed almost to resemble scars. His eyes were a cold blue, and the sharpness of his nose gave the impression of an eagle, or some such bird of prey.

“That’s right,” Neon said. “We called you. We hoped a couple more of you might show up.”

The police officer didn’t rise to Neon’s barb. He just said, “So, how did you get into the apartment?”

“With a key,” Neon said.

“You have a key to the old woman—”

“Mrs. Peterson,” Ciel said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name was Esmeralda Peterson,” Ciel said softly. “Not ‘the old woman.’”

The police officer said, “Do either of you have a key to her apartment?”

“We found it under the welcome mat,” Neon said.

“And how many people knew that there was a key under the mat?” asked the officer.

“We don’t know,” Ciel admitted.

“Did you know it was there?”

“No,” Ciel said.

Neon shook her head. “I thought it might be, but I didn’t know.”

“Hmm,” the police officer murmured. “So why did you go into the apartment?”

“Mrs. Peterson is … has been … was sick,” Ciel said. “My mother asked me to bring her some stew.”

“In the flask inside.”

“Yes,” Ciel said. “I dropped it when I saw … her.”

The police officer looked from Ciel to Neon. “Does it always take two people to deliver a flask full of stew?”

“Why does that matter?” Ciel asked.

“Because he thinks we did it,” Neon growled.

“I don’t think anything,” the police officer insisted, “but there’s no sign of forced entry, which means that whoever did this probably got into the apartment the same way that you did, using the key. And maybe that means that they got in at exactly the same time that you did, because they are you.”

“We did not do this,” Ciel growled. “We are—”

“Atlas students,” Neon said.

“Honourable women,” Ciel declared.

The police officer looked at them, his cold blue eyes flickering from one to the other. “Well, I don’t think we’ll ever find out exactly what happened. Lucky you, maybe.”

“What do you mean, we’ll never find out what happened?” Neon said, leaping down off the ledge she’d been sat on. “Isn’t it your job to find out what happened? Can’t you get, like, forensics in to look for evidence of who was in the apartment or something?”

“They’re busy,” the police officer said.

“'Busy'?” Ciel repeated. “A woman is dead!”

“Yeah, she is,” the police officer said, his voice harsh. “So is the sixteen-year-old girl who overdosed two nights ago after some scumbag sold her a bad batch of Purple Magic, so is the guy who got hit by a car the day before that as he was crossing the street. And the week before that, a woman was raped walking home. And before that, someone was held up at knifepoint and robbed. I got a backlog of cases six months old sitting on my desk, and this one doesn’t get to jump to the top of the line just because it’s the one that you two care about. I’m sorry, but … that’s the way it is.”

He, too, walked away, following in the footsteps of the paramedics as he headed towards the stairs that wound their way down the building to street level.

Neon folded her arms as she watched him go. “Well, this sucks,” she said.

“Indeed,” Ciel muttered.

“Someone walks into an old woman’s apartment, bashes her head in, walks out, and now they’re going to get away with it because the police are backed up,” Neon said. “This … this isn’t right.”

“You’re wrong,” Ciel said softly.

“Huh?”

“They aren’t going to get away with this,” Ciel declared. “If the police won’t find out who killed Mrs. Peterson then we will.”

Neon was silent for a moment, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. “Look … you know I’ve got your back, C, but … how?”

“Ciel!” Rainbow Dash shouted as she emerged from the staircase and ran down the balcony towards them, leaving a rainbow trail in her wake that seemed — for all that Ciel was glad of her haste — inappropriate in the current circumstances, before she came to a halt beside them. “I got your text,” she said. “Are you guys okay?”

Neon let her hands drop to her sides. “Not really,” she said.

“Yeah, right, of course not,” Rainbow murmured. She glanced at the open door to Mrs. Peterson’s apartment; nobody had bothered to close it yet. “Is this … this the place?”

Ciel nodded mutely.

Rainbow paused for a moment. “She was a friend of yours?”

“We knew her,” Neon said. “She was a nice old lady.”

“We need your help,” Ciel said.

Rainbow looked at her. “Help with what?”

“With finding who this,” Ciel replied. “The police have no resources to do anything to catch her killer; who will bring justice if not us?”

Rainbow frowned. “We’re not cops.”

“But we are the defenders of the world,” Ciel insisted. “Defenders of the weak, protectors of the helpless. Who is more weak and helpless than a sick old woman, frail and unable to leave her bed? Who is more in need of a protector?”

“Protection?” Rainbow asked. “Or revenge?”

“Does it matter?” Ciel demanded. “A wrong has been done; it must be righted. You told me I could call on you for help. Or was that more empty bluster devoid of substance?”

“Ciel,” Neon murmured, but Rainbow held up a hand to stay anything else she might have said.

“You’re right,” Rainbow said. “I did say that I would help you. And I will. So how do you want to start?”

Ciel hesitated, having insisted upon doing this, and insisted with such vehemence in the teeth of the objections of the others, she felt a little foolish to admit that she had no idea how to begin. And yet, that was the truth; as Rainbow said, they were not trained investigators, they had no knowledge of the criminal mind, they had no forensic equipment, they had not even any access to resources that the police had at their disposal — nor would they until they graduate.

They were the only ones with the drive to do anything to solve Mrs. Peterson’s murder, and yet, their drive alone did not give them the capacity to do so.

“I … I do not know.”

Rainbow nodded. “Okay then,” she said. “Mind if I go in and take a look around?”

“Sure,” Neon said. “But what do you expect to see in there?”

“My life wasn’t always Pinkie Parties and hanging out with Twilight,” Rainbow said as she walked through the open door into the apartment.

Neon and Ciel glanced at one another for a moment, before Ciel followed her in, and Neon trailed after them.

Rainbow did not know her way around the apartment as they did, but it was not a very big apartment, and it didn’t take her very long to find her way to the bedroom. Mrs. Peterson was gone, and the book that she had been reading — the Epistles of the Lady — had been thrown to the floor and trampled on by the paramedics, the sheets had been thrown back, but at the same time, you could still see some stains of blood on the pillow, the red turning to brown.

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. “So, this is where … where you found her?”

“Yeah,” Neon said. “This is it.”

Rainbow nodded. “Did she have anything valuable?”

“Why does that matter?” Ciel asked.

Rainbow turned to face her. “It matters because we’ll never work out who did it if we can’t work out why, so did she have anything worth taking?”

“She had an antique gun,” Neon said. “A pistol from the Great War; she kept it in the drawer in her nightstand. I don’t think she had any bullets for it, unfortunately.”

“And she had some watches,” Ciel added. “Expensive watches, I think; somewhat expensive, anyway; expensive for Mantle, at least. Small, but rather pretty. Anniversary gifts from her late husband. And some silverware, knives and forks, that sort of thing.”

“Real silver?” Rainbow asked.

Ciel nodded. “And quite old, I think.”

“Right,” Rainbow murmured. “Do you know where she kept them, and are they still there?”

Neon approached the bedroom doorway. Rainbow made way for her, and Neon walked in and around the bed, her tail hanging limp behind her as she approached the nightstand. She pulled open the top door, looked down, and rummaged around inside for a moment.

“Not there?” Rainbow asked.

“Hang on; she might have put it back in the wrong place,” Neon said, opening up the middle drawer, and then the bottom. “No. It’s not here.”

“What about the watches and the silver?”

“She kept her watches in a box under the bed,” Ciel said. “And the silver underneath the kitchen sink.”

Neon got down on the floor, resting her head upon the grey carpet as she peered beneath the bed. “There’s nothing here.”

Ciel felt a scowl settling upon her face as she strode into the kitchen. She grabbed the plastic handles of the cupboards under the sink and flung them open with excessive force. She knelt down, confronted by the sight of bottles of bleach, washing up liquid, kitchen towel, plastic bin liners. But no box of silverware.

Ciel rose silently, slammed the cupboard doors shut, and stalked back into the bedroom.

“That’s gone too?” Rainbow asked.

Ciel inhaled through her nose. “Robbery. Of all the … of all the reasons to … murdered for what? For an antique pistol, some watches, and a set of silver forks? Is that what this city has come to? Is that what we have come to?”

Rainbow took a moment to reply. “You knew about this,” she said softly. “I mean you knew that she had this stuff and where it was. Does that mean that other people knew about it too?”

“She wasn’t shy about talking about it,” Neon admitted.

“She liked having someone to talk to,” Ciel declared. “Her husband was dead, her son … she wanted to talk. So she would tell you stories or show you things that she thought might interest you. Tell you their history. She just…” She turned away. “She just wanted to talk to someone.”

“Which means that whoever did this knew her,” Rainbow said.

“Why so sure?” Neon asked. “Yeah, it looks like burglary, but it could have been just random.”

Rainbow shook her head. “If someone had broken in here just looking for anything that they could take, they would have torn the place up looking for stuff. But if you didn’t know where the stuff was, you wouldn’t know that it had been touched at all. There’s no damage; there’s no vandalism. Whoever did this knew what they were after, and they knew where it was; they got in, they took it—”

“And they killed her,” Neon said sharply. “But why? She was old, she was sick, she was in bed; it wasn’t as though she could have stopped anybody.”

Rainbow held out her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe … maybe she cried out, and they were afraid somebody would hear.”

“In this town, who’d do anything if they did hear?” Neon asked.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “But I’m pretty sure I’m right about this: whoever did this wanted the stuff they knew was in here.”

“Murdered for an antique pistol and some silver forks,” Ciel murmured.

I hate this city.

“So what does this tell us?” Ciel demanded. “It was not a small number of people who knew where Mrs. Peterson kept her valuables.”

“No,” Rainbow allowed. “But whoever stole it probably didn’t steal the stuff because they have a gun collection or a watch collection; they’re going to want to sell it on as quickly as they can. So let’s check out the pawnshops and see if they have it or if they remember anyone coming in trying to sell them. Do you two know any in the area?”

“This is the third pawnshop we’ve checked,” Neon said, as they approached the store. “What if this one turns up empty as well?”

“Then we will check others,” Ciel said sharply.

“And if they turn up empty too?” Neon asked.

“Then we’ll ask Twilight to have Midnight monitor the online selling sites in case they get advertised there,” Rainbow replied. “And if that doesn’t turn up anything either, then … I don’t know. I don’t do this for a living; I don’t have all the answers. Maybe there are other places you can go to sell this kind of thing, maybe they had a buyer lined up already, I don’t know. I just know that this is the best I can come up with, but if either of you have any better ideas, then I’m open to them.”

Neon looked away. “No,” she said quietly. “No, I don’t.”

“Nor I,” Ciel murmured. “I think … I think that this is our best course. Your logic is sound, and we have little alternative, short of bursting into people’s apartments and searching them for Mrs. Peterson’s possessions. Because the option you have not mentioned is that whoever did this is keeping their ill-gotten gains for now, until it may be safer to dispose of. But if they did that…”

“We’ll never find them,” Neon added glumly.

“We will find them,” Rainbow insisted. “There’ll be a way. There’s always a way. We just haven’t thought of it yet.” She smiled. “And besides, let’s not worry about that yet, just because the closest two places we checked were busts; we might still get lucky here.”

The place where Rainbow hoped they might get lucky looked every bit as seedy as everywhere else in Mantle — certainly in this part of Mantle. The cartoon prawn on the sign above the door was faded and half-obscured by grime and soot, while the name of the establishment was barely legible. There was an electronic sign in the window, but only some of the letters were working, although enough of them to make out that they were offering sale or pawn. There was a metal grill set up in the window, presumably to protect it from being smashed, while the only sign that was still fully readable was the warning sign in the door advising that security cameras were in operation.

That might be good for them, if they got lucky.

At this particular moment, Ciel would very much have liked to pray. But would prayers without faith of sufficient strength be heard?

Rainbow reached the pawn shop ahead of them, pushing open the door and walking in. Neon followed after, and this time, it was left to Ciel to trail in after them, letting the door close behind her.

The glass cases that stood before the interior walls were laden with the kind of things that you found in places like these: watches, jewellery, scrolls, antiques — or at least, things that looked as though they might be antiques. There were guitars on the walls and drum kits set up behind the glass display cases. But as Ciel looked, bending down to get a better look at what was on display, she couldn’t see any of Mrs. Peterson’s watches, or her silverware.

A quick glance suggested that Neon hadn’t spotted the pistol yet, either.

“Can I help you three with anything?” a man emerged from the back of the store and came to stand behind the counter. He was heavy set, with a visible belly expanding out beneath his red shirt, and although his head was bald, his arms were hairy and thick. He wore yellow-tinted glasses that hid the colour of his eyes somewhat. He leaned his meaty hands upon the glass as he regarded them.

He focussed upon Rainbow Dash in particular. “You’ve got a license for those guns, I hope? I don’t deal in black market weapons. I don’t do black market anything; this is a respectable business, not a laundry for stolen goods.”

“Respectable,” Neon muttered.

The man bristled. “You got a problem with what I do?”

Neon straightened up. “Desperate people give up some of their most valuable possessions, and you loan them less money than the stuff is worth and then screw them in interest afterwards. I’m not sure I’d call that respectable.”

“You can’t live on valuables,” the pawnbroker said. “You need lien to live, not treasured possessions. And I have to live too, you know. Are you here to do business or just insult me?”

“We want to ask a few questions,” Rainbow said. She fished a green lien card out of her pocket and placed it on the counter. “Does this buy us a few minutes of your time?”

The pawnbroker regarded the card. “Depends on what you want to do with it,” he grunted.

“You said that you didn’t deal in black market guns,” Rainbow said. “Anyone come in trying to sell you one lately? A Great War pistol, maybe?”

The pawnbroker snorted. “So it was stolen.”

“You’ve seen it?” Ciel demanded. “When?”

“Depends,” the pawnbroker said. “What’s it to you?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes and put another lien card down on the table.

The pawnbroker grabbed both the lien cards before Rainbow could take them back. “This kid came in here a couple of hours ago, opened his backpack, practically dumps a load of stuff out on the counter: silver spoons, some nice watches, and an old pistol just like you said. Wanted to sell them, said they belonged to his granny, she needed the money.”

“But you didn’t buy them?” Ciel said.

The pawnbroker gave her a slightly pitying look. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know the difference between someone selling their grandma’s stuff because the old bird needs the lien and someone who's knocked over someone else’s grandma’s house. He was nervous, in a hurry. I told him to come back with his mom or dad, then maybe I’d believe him.”

“But he didn’t come back?” Neon asked.

“Not yet.”

“And did you recognise him?” Ciel demanded.

“Never seen him before,” the pawnbroker said. “Just some kid in a hoodie. Red hoodie. Or pink. Something like that.” He paused. “So he did steal all that stuff.”

“And killed the woman he stole it from,” Ciel growled.

The pawnbroker paled a little. He swallowed, his throat quivering. “Really? 'Killed'?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said softly. “I know that we’re not the police, but we are Atlas students, if that means anything down here,” — she got out her scroll and showed him her ID to prove it — “and we’re trying to catch the person who did this.”

“Atlas,” the pawnbroker muttered. “It’s Atlas's fault that this place is the way it is. If we’ve got people killing each other over watches and the like, that’s Atlas's fault too.” He hesitated. “But it isn’t going to help. It’s just going to make everything worse.” His face twitched. “I didn’t recognise the guy, but he’ll be on my cameras. Come on in the back, and I’ll show you the footage.”

Ciel let out a breath she didn’t know that she’d been holding in. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” the pawnbroker replied tersely.

Nevertheless, he led them into the back of the store, where a computer sat upon a flat-pack desk. The pawnbroker sat down behind it, his meaty fingers skipping over the keyboard, typing too swiftly for Ciel’s eyes to track what he was actually typing. After a few moments, he pushed his chair back from the computer. “Here. That’s him.”

The three of them gathered around the computer to be treated to a still image of a young man with a long nose and lank, greasy looking dark hair, dressed in a fuchsia hoodie and a black cap, emptying a black backpack out onto the counter.

“Either of you recognise him?” Rainbow asked. “Seen him around? Know him from church?”

“No one from our church would do such a thing,” Ciel said sharply.

Rainbow didn’t reply to that except to say, “Do you recognise him?”

“No,” Neon said.

Ciel leaned closer, squinting a little as she tried to take in every detail of his face. “No,” she said, sighing as she spoke. “No, I have not seen him.”

“Right,” Rainbow muttered. To the pawnbroker, she asked, “Can we take a copy of this photo?”

The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” he said, after a moment. “Take it. Do what you gotta do.”

Rainbow downloaded the image onto her scroll, and the three of them took their leave of the pawnbroker and his shop.

As they stood in the street outside, Rainbow still holding her scroll with the picture available to view, she said, “What did I say? We did get lucky in there. Now we know who we’re looking for.”

“But we do not yet know who he is,” Ciel pointed out.

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “But it’s more than we knew before we went in, and now that we know what he looks like, there has to be a way that we can…” She trailed off, her gaze falling upon the security drone that was hovering just a few inches off the ground, staring at them.

It was little more than a flying camera, the square camera proper resting upon a light metal frame with a little gravity dust built in. It, and many others like it, were tasked with patrolling Mantle for any signs of crime or unrest.

Obviously, it hadn’t saved Mrs. Peterson, but they provided a valuable supplement to the static cameras mounted to various buildings.

“Do you think if we show it our student IDs, it will go away?” Neon whispered as the drone continued to stare at them.

The drone made a kind of buzzing sound, then turned and flew away.

“I hate those things; they give me the creeps,” Neon muttered. “Why do we have so many tiny robots? Like those mouse droids rolling around the academy bleeping at you, what are they up to?”

Rainbow frowned slightly. “Aren’t they cleaning the floor?”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Neon said.

Rainbow didn’t reply to that, although for a moment, Ciel thought she might. She looked in the direction of the departing drone. “You know,” she said. “I think I know what we can do next.”

“What?” Ciel demanded.

Rainbow didn’t answer; she was too busy with her scroll, flicking the photo of the suspect aside for a moment as she placed a voice-only call.

“Hello?” Twilight’s voice emerged from out of the device.

“Hey, Twi, it’s Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow said. “I know it’s getting late, and I’m sorry, but I’m down in Mantle with Ciel and Neon, and I need some help.”

“Good evening, Twilight,” Ciel said. “I apologise for the disturbance.”

“Hi, Twilight,” Neon called.

“Hey, girls, um,” Twilight murmured. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“You could say that,” Rainbow said softly. “Listen, I don’t want to get into the details right now. I’m going to send you a picture of somebody.” She flicked away from the call screen to bring back the photo, then tapped a few times into her scroll to send it as an email. “I need you to access the Mantle security cameras and see if you can locate this guy.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “You want me to hack into the Mantle security system?” Twilight asked.

Rainbow winced. “Basically, yes.”

“And run facial recognition software looking for this person?”

“Yes.”

There was another pause. “You do realise that’s illegal, right?”

“We wouldn’t ask if it were not important, Twilight,” Ciel insisted, taking a step closer to Rainbow and her scroll. “Not in the grand scheme of things perhaps, but to us — to me — it is … it is of vital importance. Please, Twilight, we must find this man.”

Once more, Twilight paused, before she said, “Okay. If it means that much to you then … okay. But I’m going to want to know why it was so important eventually.”

“And we’ll tell you,” Rainbow assured her. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Twilight replied. “Now give me a second, I’ll get Midnight on it.”

“We’ll be here,” Rainbow said, before she put the call on mute.

“I don’t know if I like this,” Neon muttered.

“It’ll work,” Rainbow said. “Trust me, it will work.”

“I’m sure it’ll work; that’s part of why I don’t like it,” Neon replied.

“Explain?” Ciel asked.

“There are too many cameras in this city,” Neon declared. “It isn’t right that the man is watching our every move like this, and it isn’t right to use it as though it is right. You can’t use evil means to achieve good ends; isn’t that in the scripture somewhere?”

It was, as a matter of fact, and more than once — it turned up in several of the epistles: not only could good not achieve its ends through evil means, and any attempt to do so would only lead to their undoing, but evil could not achieve its ends through evil means and would invariably sabotage itself in the process.

Of course, that assessment depended upon accepting Neon’s moral premise.

“The innocent have nothing to fear from the surveillance of the state,” Ciel said stiffly.

Neon raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“Good evening, Rainbow Dash,” Midnight said, her voice issuing from out of the scroll. “Ciel.”

“I’m here too,” Neon muttered.

Rainbow took her scroll off mute. “Hey, Midnight, what have you got for us?”

“You should ask nicely, considering that we’re doing you such a big favour,” Midnight said.

Rainbow sighed. “What have you got for us, please?”

“The man you’re looking for is named Peter Butterworth, seventeen years old, resides at apartment one-sixty Falwell Tower.”

Falwell Tower was where Mrs. Peterson had lived; so he had known her, after all.

“Where is he now?” Rainbow asked. “Do you know?”

“Peter Butterworth was last spotted by a camera three minutes ago entering Deep Wells Market.”

“Thanks, Twilight—”

“I am Midnight.”

“Thank you both,” Rainbow said. “I’ll tell you why we needed this when I get back to Atlas.”

She closed up her scroll, and the three of them made their way to the market as fast as they could, dodging the cars on the roads, pushing through the shambling crowds, taking shortcuts through dark alleys that Ciel would have avoided in less urgent circumstances. It took them less than fifteen minutes to reach Deep Wells Market, a covered space with lights of blue and red that lent it a much greater vibrancy than the rest of Mantle at this time of night. It was not a mall; it was not subdivided into stores and food courts. Rather, it was a more traditional kind of market, relocated into an indoor setting: a lot of stalls, temporary in appearance if not in setup, with only a single or perhaps two employees, all set cheek by jowl without much in the way of space between them. This stall sold freshly made cakes, this one sold home-made pins; here was a butcher, there was a candle maker. The last time Ciel had been here there had been a rather nice woman selling stuffed animals that she had made herself; she had bought a cute frog for Alain.

In other circumstances, she might have seen if the woman was still there.

Now, however, they spread out, each of them searching for Mister Butterworth.

It occurred to Ciel, as she walked alone past stalls selling this and that, that their quarry might be armed. He had killed Mrs. Peterson somehow, after all, and probably not with his bare hands.

But she was not a frail old woman confined to her bed. He would not find her so easy to dispose of.

She hoped that she found him first. She very much hoped that she found him first.

Seventeen years old. Only a year younger than she was. Perhaps she ought to have pitied him, but she did not. She did not pity him, she did not see herself in him, she was not forced to reckon with the ways in which her life might have proceeded differently.

She had nothing but contempt for him. She, too, was of Mantle stock, and so was Neon, and yet, they had made something of themselves, were poised to escape the hateful grasp of this dying city. They had worked, they had struggled, they yet worked and yet struggled, but they had not given up, they had not sunk into sin and barbarism. They had not turned their back on their humanity.

Seventeen years old. There was no excuse for failing to try.

And then she saw him. She was standing by a stall selling soft drinks in cans — one of the few stalls selling a commercial product — and she saw him perhaps thirty feet away, or a little more, standing in front of a stall selling gold jewellery, brandishing a gold watch in his hand.

Mrs. Peterson’s watch.

Ciel’s face tightened into a snarl as she produced her pistol from out of her purse. “Peter Butterworth!” she roared, her voice cutting through the sound of the market. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

Peter stared at her. His eyes were hooded by the cap he was wearing, but she could feel him staring nonetheless.

For a moment, for two moments, for moments that turned into seconds, one, two, three, he froze, still as stone.

Then he turned to run.

Ciel’s finger tightened on the trigger. One shot. She was a sharpshooter; at this range, she could hardly miss without trying; people had moved out of the way when they saw her gun, scattering this way and that to avoid her line of fire.

Nevertheless, she could not be certain that someone would not step into it.

Just as she could not be certain that…

Ciel let out a growl of frustration as she lowered her pistol. With one hand, she grabbed a metal can from off the stall beside her. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

Precognition On!

Ciel activated her semblance, and her eyes glowed a brighter blue than normal as she saw not where Peter Butterworth was but where he would be, where he would run to, what direction he would turn.

She threw the can. It soared through the air of the high-domed market to strike her target squarely on the head, just as he was about to turn a corner.

He went down in a heap.

“Keep the change,” Ciel muttered, tossing a lien card that she hoped would cover the cost of the drink to the stallholder as she strode across the market — people still made way for her — to where Peter Butterworth lay, moaning, on the ground.

He wore a black backpack on his back, a backpack that looked heavily-laden. In his hand was the gold watch, the last watch that Mrs. Peterson had gotten from her husband on their golden anniversary. It was a slight thing, the golden strap was narrower than Ciel’s thumb, and the face itself was only slightly larger than a thumbnail, but it had been made with old fashioned craftsmanship by one of the few people who still made mechanical watches — and of course, it had possessed enormous value to her to whom it had belonged, far beyond the value of the gold from which it had been made.

Ciel snatched up the watch, putting it in her purse until it could be reunited with the rest of the collection, and then grabbed Peter by the neck and dragged him out of the market and into a secluded alleyway beyond.

It was dark, lit only by the lights emerging from out of the market, and secluded. There was no one there but them.

Ciel tore the backpack off his shoulders and set it on the ground, before she shoved him up against the dull stone wall.

“Why?” she demanded.

“They said it was worth a fortune!” he said. “Everyone knew about the stuff she had in there, silver, gold; she’d show it to anyone! She bragged about it!”

She was lonely, and she wanted to talk to people. “Why did you have to kill her?!” Ciel shrieked, her voice cracking. “Why? She couldn’t have stopped you; she was harmless!”

“She wouldn’t stop shouting!” Peter cried. “I just … I just wanted her to stop shouting.”

Ciel stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, mouth open, mind … uncomprehending.

For a moment, her grip upon the scruff of his neck loosened.

Then the anger coiled in the pit of her stomach flared like a fire exposed to oxygen, and a wordless shout escaped her mouth as she hit him across the face. He cried out in pain, turning his face away from the blow, cringing against the wall.

“Stop shouting,” Ciel snarled as she hit him again. He crouched down before her blow, his knees buckling, bringing his hands up to shield himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Quiet,” Ciel growled as she hit him again, and with him cowering on the ground, she kicked him in the stomach too to make him double over. She hit him again, knocking him to the ground where he curled up in a ball, trying to shield his gut and chest.

Ciel kicked him. She kicked him again, and each kick produced a whimpering mewl of pain.

“Stop shouting,” Ciel snarled out from between gritted teeth as she grabbed him by the hood and hauled him up so that he could hit him again. She broke his nose, producing a howl of pain from out of his lips.

“I only want you to stop shouting!” Ciel bellowed into his face. She adjusted her grip on his neck as she hit him across the jaw hard enough to send some of his teeth flying out to scatter across the ground.

Tears were falling from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Tears for Mrs. Peterson; tears for Alain; tears for her faith, the armour that had been stripped away from her.

She cried, and as she cried, she kept on hitting him while his eye swelled up and his ribs cracked and his nose bled and he would not stop shouting.

She was going to kill him. She knew that, with the part of her mind that remained cold and rational. She was going to kill him, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care. She was tired. She was tired and sad and angry, and if she wanted to take that out on someone, then so what? What was his wretched, miserable life worth anyway?

And he wouldn’t stop shouting.

A pair of hands seized Ciel’s arms and dragged her forcibly away from him.

“That’s enough, Ciel!” Rainbow cried. Her voice softened. “That’s enough.”

Neon’s eyes were fearful as she moved to stand between Peter and Ciel, as though she were the murderer and he were some innocent victim. Yes, she grabbed him by his hood so he couldn’t escape, but all the same … she was protecting him. She was protecting him, after what he’d done?

“No,” Ciel murmured, the tears flowing down her face, the phlegm filling her throat. “No, it’s not enough. Not yet, not until—”

“Until what?” Rainbow demanded. “Until he dies? Is that what you want, you want to kill him?”

“Why not?” Ciel demanded. “Why not; doesn’t he deserve it?”

Rainbow released Ciel from her grasp, and Ciel found herself slumping forwards, her arms hanging limp down in front of her like some ungainly creature.

Rainbow moved to stand in front of Ciel, one hand upon her shoulder. “Maybe he does,” she said. “Probably he does. And if you want to … I’m your team leader, not your judge, or your conscience. If you want to kill him, that’s fine. I won’t turn you in. I won’t snitch on you to the General or anybody else. I’ll even help you make sure that it doesn’t come out, because that’s my job. That’s my duty, as your team leader. But it’s also my duty to remind you that whatever you do, you’ll have to live with afterwards. Are you ready for that? Is that what you want?”

Ciel looked up into Rainbow’s eyes. Into her face that was completely free of judgement.

She looked down at her hands. Her aura had protected her from any bruising, but she had a little of his blood on her nonetheless.

Ciel bowed her head and said nothing.

“Neon,” Rainbow said. “Take Ciel home, will you? I’ll take out the trash.”

“What are you gonna do?” Neon asked.

“Never mind what I’m gonna do,” Rainbow said softly.

Ciel didn’t see what Neon did next, but she felt a pair of hands upon her shoulders, lifting her slightly, pulling her into an embrace.

“Let’s go home, Ciel,” Neon said.

Ciel nodded a little. “That … that sounds like a very good idea.”

“What the—?!” Rainbow yelled.

Ciel felt herself shoved aside; she stumbled, falling to the ground, entangled with Neon. Her aura took the impact of the fall, and she raised her head to look beyond Neon to see Rainbow Dash, her shotgun out, and behind her, Peter Butterworth, with an arrow in his neck.

“There’s four of us to three of you, and only one of you is armed,” the voice that spoke was female and mature-sounding, the voice of a woman, not a girl. It belonged, Ciel could only suppose, to the woman who stepped out of the shadows behind the late and unlamented thief. She was tall, with a long face framed by her pale hair, the rest of which she wore bound up behind her head. She was dressed in a long, dark coat, and in various shades of grey and green, all save for the red waistcoat which stood out upon her chest. Upon her wrist, she wore a crossbow, designed like the wings of a bird.

Behind her, less visible and distinct, three more figures lurked in the shadows, vague forms that could not be so easily identified.

The one who showed herself, Ciel could easily identify: Robyn Hill, the hero of Mantle and one of Atlas’ most wanted.

She smiled. “I know that they don’t teach you to take odds like that in Atlas.”

Rainbow bared her teeth. “You say that like we have a choice.”

“You do have a choice,” Robyn said. “I didn’t come here to fight. If you want to turn around and walk away, it’s no skin off my nose. In fact, I’d prefer it if you did. I’ve no quarrel with you. In fact, I should congratulate you. This was good work.”

Ciel and Neon got to their feet and moved to stand on either side of Rainbow Dash.

“You killed him?” Neon asked.

“He was a murderer,” Robyn said. “Isn’t that right?”

“How did you know that?” Ciel demanded.

“The Mantle police are backed up; they don’t have the bandwidth to tackle every case,” Robyn explained. “But I have friends in the police department, and they let me know if anything comes up. They told me about that poor old woman. A bad business. Something like that can’t be allowed to stand. This city survives, despite all efforts to crush it and to break its spirit, because we stand together. And only together will we rise again; actions like that,” — she gestured at the dead body in front of her — “are a crime not only against his victim, but against the entire community. And I am the protector of this community.”

“Self-proclaimed,” Rainbow muttered, although she slung her shotgun across her back once more.

Robyn smiled. “The people don’t seem to have much of an objection. Quite the contrary.”

“What about the law?” Neon demanded.

“Atlas law, imposed upon us from above, handed down from the heavens like holy scripture which we may neither question nor amend,” Robyn spat. “And besides, the courts are as backed up as the police; he would have been released until his trial, and that could have taken months, years, years in which he would have been free to roam, to harm others. It’s simpler this way, don’t you think? Kick the altar, pay the price?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “You’re right,” she admitted. “These aren’t good odds. And this,” she gestured at the body, “isn’t a worthy cause. So we’re not going to fight you over it.”

“Smart kid,” Robyn said. “Turn around, walk away. You don’t even have to keep this a secret. Tell everyone that you witnessed Robyn Hill commit a murder, and none will call you coward.”

Rainbow slung her shotgun across her back. “But you will be seeing us again,” she promised. “Sooner or later.”

Robyn smiled. “I look forward to it.”

A Sense of Chivalry (New)

A Sense of Chivalry

Once more, Ciel stood upon the doorstep of her family home. She lingered there, hesitating, unable to raise her hand and knock upon the door.

“Hey,” Neon said, placing a hand upon Ciel’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Of course, this time, she did not stand here alone.

Ciel glanced at her. “I don’t feel okay,” she murmured.

Neon’s eyebrows rose. “Clearly not; you used a contraction.”

“I use contractions,” Ciel replied. “Sometimes.”

“Not often,” Neon pointed out.

“No,” Ciel admitted. “Not often.”

Neon gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “You do not have to be here, you know.”

Neon grinned. “My mom’s been working night and day getting that new hotel ready for the big opening; if I don’t stick with you, it’ll be cheap takeout or the greasy spoon round the corner for me tonight.”

Ciel’s lips twitched upwards. “Unfortunately, I think you’ll find we have both missed dinner tonight.”

“Ah well,” Neon said. “That’s a pity.” She smiled. “That being the case, I don’t suppose you want to go and grab some crappy overpriced hamburgers?”

Ciel snorted. “No, although the offer is far more tempting than it has any right to be. But no. I should go inside.”

“If you say so,” Neon said, making no move to go anywhere.

“Thank you,” Ciel said softly.

“Stop thanking me all the time; it’s weird,” Neon said. “Let’s … let’s just take it as read that you’re grateful, huh. No need to mention it again. You’ve made me aware. You’ve made me well aware.”

“Okay,” Ciel whispered. She looked at the door. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath her cloak. “What are we going to say?”

“That Mrs. Peterson died?” Neon suggested. “That we … assisted in the arrest of her murderer?”

“That,” Ciel said, “is putting it rather mildly, don’t you think?”

“It’s not a lie,” Neon said.

“The part about the arrest is,” Ciel pointed out.

“Do you want to tell your family that we saw the Happy Huntresses—”

“Murder someone, and then we walked away?” Ciel asked. Her voice dropped. “No. No, the prospect does not excite me.”

“I was going to say kill, not murder,” Neon murmured.

“Is there a difference?”

“Murder is a little more judgemental,” said Neon.

Ciel looked at her. “Do you not think that the act of taking a life deserves a little judgement?”

“The guy bashed an old woman’s head in so that he could steal her stuff,” Neon said. “Forgive if I don’t cry for him.”

“The Lady teaches us that—”

“That vengeance belongs to God, not to man,” Neon finished for her. “I know. But still … forgive me if I’m not hung up on it. Or if I didn’t want to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it.”

“No one wanted to get into a fight with the Happy Huntresses over it,” Ciel murmured, “but that does not mean I want to admit that we did not. We will say that … we will say that he died before he could be taken into custody. I doubt that Mother will ask any further questions on the matter. She will be more concerned with Mrs. Peterson.”

“Right,” Neon murmured. She lowered her hand from Ciel’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so,” Ciel said, though she had little enough hope regarding the matter. Nevertheless, she had procrastinated long enough. She raised her hand and rapped smartly upon the door.

Once again, the front door was opened by Florentin, who looked rather less happy to see her than he had done the last time he had opened the door for her.

“You took your time, didn’t you?” he said.

“Don’t start, Florentin,” Neon said, quietly but firmly at the same time. “Ciel is not in the mood.”

“Neon?” Florentin asked. “What are you—?”

“Nice to see you too,” Neon said, smiling up at him. “Now can we come in or what?”

“Uh, yes, of course, come in,” Florentin stammered, taking a few steps back so that Ciel could step over the threshold and into the family home. Neon followed, closing the door behind her. The latch clicked shut.

“Is that Ciel?” Mother called from the living room.

“And Neon too,” Florentin called back, before Ciel could announce herself.

Ciel stepped around her brother and took the door on the left into the living room. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places, although fortunately only at the top; it was not yet truly noticeable, nor truly desperate; what was a little worse was the patch on the ceiling where water had leaked down from the bathroom above and caused the paint to bubble and brown; they had fixed the leak, but not in time to prevent that damage, and they lived in constant fear that it would recur again.

The floral pattern cover on the settee was getting a little faded by now, and there were stains on the carpet from age and the occasional spill. They had become so commonplace that nobody really noticed them now, and Ciel suspected that she only noticed them because she had been away for so long in places that were much fresher and better maintained.

And better endowed besides.

None of her family seemed to take any notice. Aurelien, Maurice, and Gauthier were playing Monopoly, kneeling on the floor around the board as they rolled the dice across it. The television was off, but Tyson was reading that week’s TV guide, a pen in one hand as he circled the programs he was interested in. Mother was sat upon the sofa, and Alain sat on her lap, his eyes hooded as though he might drop off to sleep at any moment.

As Ciel stepped through the door, and Neon followed her, his blue eyes opened a little wider. “Ciel! And Neon!”

Neon waved with one hand. “Hey, Alain. Hey, Mrs. S.”

“You came back,” Alain went on. “I thought you might have been called away on a mission or something.”

“I am sorry,” Ciel said, to Alain, but also to her mother, and to the whole room, really. “For not returning sooner.”

“What kept you?” Mother asked. “You missed dinner.”

“I thought I might have,” Ciel replied.

“So how’s Mrs. Peterson doing?”

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. “Mrs. Peterson … is dead,” she said.

Maurice dropped the dice. It hit the board with a thump that, for all it was not loud, sounded as loud as the ringing of a bell in the silence that otherwise descended on the room.

“'Dead'?” Mother repeated. “I … no, it can’t be. She wasn’t that sick; the doctor said that she’d get better as long as she was taken care of. Did we not do enough? Should we have done more?”

“There was nothing that you could have done, Mrs. Soleil,” Neon said earnestly. “It … it maybe isn’t the kind of thing a five-year-old should be hearing.”

“Why not?” Alain asked. “What happened? Is that why you were so late?” His breathing started to quicken. “I liked Mrs. Peterson,” he said. “She always used to give me sweets and tell me that it … that it did her good to see me in church, because it reminded her that … that—”

“That our Lady helped lame men to walk and blind men to see,” Neon said, darting quickly across the living room floor, stepping over Maurice and Aurelien and kneeling down in front of Alain, where he sat on Mother’s lap.

“Just you remember that,” she said. “And don’t worry about the rest. Don’t upset yourself.”

She reached out and took Alain in her hands, lifting him up — Mother did not protest — and holding him as she would a babe, one hand supporting him and the other resting upon his head.

“Now, come on; it must be past your bedtime by now!” She stepped over Maurice and Aurelien again as she headed back towards the door. “Come with me, and I’ll tell you a cool story about Vivid, the hero cat, and her latest amazing adventure.” She winked at Ciel as she passed by.

Ciel smiled as Neon carried Alain out of the room. Ciel didn’t watch as Neon bore the youngest Soleil up the stairs, but she did hear Neon’s footsteps, and she waited until those footsteps no longer sounded on the staircase but on the landing up above.

She stepped into the living room. She heard Florentin close the door.

She clasped her hands together. Ciel took a deep breath. “Mrs. Peterson was murdered,” she said softly.

Mother gasped, one hand flying to her heart. “Lady’s grace! Why? Why would anyone want to harm dear old Mrs. Peterson?”

“For her possessions,” Ciel explained, her voice soft and a little slow. “For the things that were precious to her and that she loved to show and talk about.”

“Her pistol,” Tyson murmured.

“And her watches,” Ciel added. “Someone came into her home, they took them … and they … and they killed her.”

“Bastard!” Florentin snarled.

“Florentin!” Mother cried. “Language!”

“'Language'?” Florentin repeated. “'Language,' after…” His hands clenched into fists. “I wish I’d been there.”

Ciel looked at him. “And what would you have done?” she asked softly.

“I’d have torn him to pieces,” Florentin growled.

That, more than anything else, gave Ciel pause. She did not like the anger in her brother’s voice, she did not like the look in his eyes, and she liked it all the less for the way that it reminded her of herself, of what she had done and what she had almost done.

And yet, at the same time, she was less worried about her own actions — she would pray forgiveness for them when next she felt strong enough in her faith to pray — than about her younger brother. He had gotten into a fight, Mother said, and Neon had confirmed the fact. He had gotten into a fight, and now he talked of tearing people to pieces. What had happened to him while she had been away? What kind of crowd had he fallen in with?

“Don’t look at me like that,” Florentin snapped.

“I was not—”

“Yes,” Florentin said. “You were. You’ve been gone for eight months in Vale. You were barely home before that. You don’t get to come back here and judge me.”

“Florentin—” Ciel began, but it was too late; Florentin had already turned away, flinging open the door and striding through it, only to slam it behind him.

“Florentin!” Ciel’s voice was half a cry and half an admonition as she started after him.

“Wait,” Mother said.

Ciel halted. “If … if he upsets Alain—”

“He won’t,” Mother said. “It isn’t Alain that he’s upset with.”

That, at least, was quite clearly true. “Very well, Mother.”

“Shall I go and check on him?” Tyson offered.

“Yes, please, Tyson, if you wouldn’t mind,” Mother said.

Tyson got up from his seat and left; he closed the door more quietly after him than Florentin had done.

“You … found her?” Mother asked.

“Neon and I,” Ciel replied. “She joined me on the way over. I dropped the flask when I saw … I’m sorry, I left it there, I should—”

“The flask, never mind about the flask,” Mother said quickly. “Do they know who is responsible for this terrible thing?”

“A young man,” Ciel said. “He died before the police could apprehend him. But Mrs. Peterson’s valuables were recovered.” Ciel and Neon had dropped them off with Father Gregory, whose clerical privilege would protect him from revealing how he had come by them to the authorities when he handed them in.

“Then the Lady is just,” Mother murmured, bowing her head slightly. “Are you alright, Ciel?”

I fear not. “I am … better,” Ciel said quietly. “It was shocking to see, but … I am better.”

"I am glad to hear it," Mother said. She paused a moment. "Poor Mrs. Peterson; we must pray for her when next in church."

"Father Gregory has already said he will do so," Ciel said. "I … we made him aware."

"Good girl," Mother said softly. "I put some soup aside for you, if you want to reheat it."

"Is there some for Neon as well?" Ciel asked.

Mother smiled. "I have some portions I was going to freeze; she can have one of those."

Ciel nodded. "Thank you, Mother."

"She is always welcome here," Mother said. She sighed. "I forgot to ask how her mother was."

"Working hard, I think," Ciel replied. "In preparation for the opening of the Marigold hotel."

"Yes, she's very fortunate, isn't she?"

"Very much so," Ciel said. "I will go and tell her about the soup. What soup is it?"

"Chicken noodle."

"She will like that," Ciel said. She rather liked it as well.

She left the living room, and only once she was back in the hall did she notice that she was still wearing her cloak. In everything that had gone on, she had not taken it off yet. She did so now and hung it on the coatstand by the door, then made her way softly up the stairs.

With only four bedrooms, the sleeping arrangements in the Soleil house were a little crowded. Mother and Father had their own room, of course, the largest bedroom with the en suite bathroom; and since Alain was the youngest by some years and thus had to go to bed before anyone else, he too had his own room. Florentin and Tyson shared one of the remaining rooms between them, and Maurice, Aurelien, and Gauthier shared the other. Ciel had slept — and would be sleeping again, for so long as she was here — in a cot in the attic; she needed space to study and work, and it was easier to get a desk in there than to try and squeeze it into one of the bedrooms.

Alain's room was the first on the right coming up the stairs. As she stepped onto the upstairs landing, Ciel could hear Neon's voice issuing out of the open doorway.

"The leviathan stomped towards the city, making the waves surge and the ground shake with its tread. 'Grrrrr! Aaaargh!' But Vivid was not deterred!"

"She wasn't scared then?" Alain asked.

"Oh, she was scared," Neon said. "You can only ever be brave when you're scared, but she didn't let her fear control her, she didn't give up just because she was afraid. The hero cat thought about all her little brothers waiting for her back home; so long as they were counting on her, she could never give up! With both hands, she drew her magic sword and let the power of love flow through her as she thought about all her friends and all the good times they'd shared and everything that she was fighting to protect, and with a mighty swing of her mighty blade, she cleaved that leviathan clean in two! And so the day was saved, once again."

"Bravo," Ciel murmured, coming to stand in the doorway. "Bravo."

Neon smiled and rose where she had been kneeling by Alain's bedside to bow theatrically. "I do my best," she said, her tail flicking back and forth behind her head.

Alain was sitting in bed, already changed into his pyjamas, his legs concealed beneath the blue duvet with golden stars upon it. The room was dark, with only a reddish-pink nightlight providing any illumination.

Neon backed away towards the window as Ciel approached Alain's bedside. "Have you brushed your teeth?"

"Yes, Ciel."

"And said your prayers?"

"Yes, Ciel."

Ciel knelt down by his bedside. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alright," Alain said softly.

"I'm glad," Ciel said, a smile appearing on her face. "I'm so very glad." She reached out and took his small hand in her own and squeezed it.

"What was it like, in Vale?" Alain asked.

"Vale," Ciel said. "Vale was … more pleasant than I expected. Warm, and clean, and the people kind."

"I'd love to see it myself," Alain said.

"You will," Ciel told him. "You will. You will see … anything that you wish to see."

Alain smiled. "Will you tell me all about what happened to you there? Will you tell me everything?"

"I will," Ciel promised. "But not tonight. Tomorrow. Tonight, it is time to sleep."

Alain sighed. "Alright."

Ciel leaned forward, and kissed him on the forehead. "Bon nuit, mon petit frere."

Alain smiled, as she laid down. "Bon nuit, ma soeur."

Ciel pulled the duvet up over him as he rolled to face the wall, turning his back on her.

She left the nightlight on as she walked towards the door — Neon had already left — and took one last look at him, illuminated by the red glow of the light, before she gently closed the door.

To Neon, she said, "Mother said there is some leftover soup, if you want it; chicken noodle."

Neon nodded and kept her own voice quiet as she said, "That'd be great."

"I'll heat it up for you," Ciel said. "But first, I need to speak with Florentin."

"I'll be in the kitchen when you're done," Neon said.

Ciel didn't watch her head for the stairs, or head down them; she turned towards the next room on the right, next to Alain's: Florentin's room, which he shared with Tyson.

She found them both in there, although it was even darker in there than it was in Alain's room, since there was not even a nightlight in here, and the only light that got in was the light of the city itself, since the curtains were drawn back.

As Ciel stood in the doorway, just about able to make out the shapes of the two oldest boys, she felt compelled to ask, "Is there a reason you're both in here in the dark?"

"It saves dust," Florentin said. "Have you forgotten what it's like to not have an academy paying your power bill?"

"I understand the need for economy," Ciel said, ignoring the jibe. "But this borders upon absurd."

"Give it a moment," Tyson said. "Your eyes will get used to the city lights."

Ciel found that her eyes were getting used to it. She could make out her brothers more clearly now: Tyson was sat on his bed, while Florentin was stood by the window, his back to Ciel and the doorway, silhouetted against the lights coming in from without.

"I, uh, I'll leave you to it," Tyson said, getting up off the bed. Ciel got out of the way for him as he followed Neon downstairs — although presumably back to the living room, not the kitchen.

Ciel took another step into the bedroom. Florentin did not turn around to look at her.

"Alain is trying to sleep in the next room," Ciel reminded him, "so please do not shout."

Florentin gave no reply but a harrumph which Ciel could not help but find rather disdainful.

She winced. "It … it has been suggested to me," she murmured. "That I may not have been the best big sister to you all."

Florentin looked at her over his shoulder. "I meant what I said," he declared, although he kept his voice soft and quiet as he did so for Alain's sake. "I love you, Ciel, but you don't get to come back and judge me. Not when you're never here."

"Not even for the things that deserve judgement?" Ciel asked. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin scoffed. "The fight. Mother did tell you, then?"

"It's why she didn't want you to go to Mrs. Peterson's," Ciel said. "As you guessed, I think."

Florentin nodded. He scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "Mother's overreacting."

"To what?" Ciel asked gently. "What was the fight about?"

Florentin let out a soft chuckle as he finally turned to face her. "I was … I was walking home from the shop, and I … I saw this girl at the bus stop, and this boy … he was yelling at her, berating her; she was trying to defend herself, she sounded so upset—"

"Was he hurting her?" Ciel asked.

"No, at least not like that," Florentin said. "But he wouldn't let her get on the bus when it pulled up at the stop, said that they weren't finished. I went up to them, I told him to leave her alone … and he beat me up. And she laughed."

Ciel stared at him for a moment. "I … I see," she murmured. "That was … not what I expected." She paused for a moment. "Neon knows that, doesn't she?"

"Neon … rescued me," Florentin admitted. "She twisted the guy's arm so much, I thought something would snap, told the girl she could do better, chased them off, and helped me home."

Something else to thank her for, if she was accepting more thanks at the moment.

"That was … brave of you," Ciel said quietly. "Chivalrous, even, but at the same time, spectacularly ill-advised. What if he had had a knife?"

"Someone had to do something," Florentin insisted.

"Apparently not, judging by the girl's reaction," Ciel replied.

"How was I to know that?" Florentin demanded.

"That … that I will grant you."

Florentin snorted. "Did you think that I'd joined a gang or something?"

"You were talking about ripping a man apart, what should I have thought?" asked Ciel. "Although why you would have expected a different result in that instance, I don't know."

Florentin rolled his eyes.

"Starting tomorrow, I will do what I probably should have done sooner and teach you how to fight," Ciel declared. "I would rather you did not start fights, but you should at least know how to finish one."

Florentin nodded, but said, "Just because I'm angry, it doesn't make me a bad person. I have things to be angry about."

"Such as?"

Florentin hesitated. "How was Beacon?" he asked. "How was Vale? Did you have a nice time?"

Ciel took a moment to answer. "There were times that were rather pleasant. There were times when I almost died."

Florentin winced. "Were you in that battle? The one that was all over the news, when Vale almost fell?"

"Vale did not almost fall," Ciel informed him. "General Ironwood's forces had the situation too well in hand for that."

"But there was a battle inside Vale, wasn't there?" Florentin pressed.

"Yes," Ciel admitted. "There was."

Florentin shook his head. "I can't imagine that happening here. I mean, this place is terrible, but I still can't imagine it."

I doubt the people of Vale could imagine it either, until it happened, Ciel thought.

"Were you there?" Florentin asked. "Were you involved?"

"Yes," Ciel answered.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Thank you," Ciel murmured.

"But you like it, don't you?"

"It is … my vocation," Ciel replied, remembering her conversation with Penny on the roof of the animal shelter.

"Good for you," Florentin said. "You got to go to combat school, and then to Atlas, because you're Mom's favourite and because Dad likes to think of you doing the things he never got the opportunity to do. Meanwhile, I work shifts at the supermarket after school and weekends to bring in money; do you think they'll let me go to university?"

"Do you wish to?"

"I don't know yet," Florentin admitted. "But I'd like to have the chance, and I'd like for you to … you don't know what it's like here, you're not around enough."

"No," Ciel admitted. "I am not. I am … sorry, for placing this burden on you. I am sorry. I should—"

"No," Florentin said, "you shouldn't. It's not your fault that we're … that we don't have enough chances to go around. The problem isn't that you got to get out; the problem is that we can't. But I'm allowed to be a little upset about that, don't you think?"

A sigh escaped from Ciel's lips. "Yes," she conceded. "Yes, I suppose you are."

Florentin stepped closer to her, and a touch of humour entered his voice as he said, "Just don't forget about us when you're an Atlas bigshot, okay?"

Ciel snorted. "Indeed, I will not. You have my word."

"‘You have my word,’" Florentin repeated. "You're so weird, sis. Now, go on, get down to the kitchen before Neon starves."

Ciel descended the stairs and made her way into the kitchen, where at least the lights were on. On the table by the door were various clear plastic tubs filled with soup, most destined for the freezer but two, at least, for Ciel and Neon.

Neon had the lid of one of them and was holding it up.

"Why is this called a soup?" she asked. "It's got chicken, peppers, carrot, sweetcorn—"

"And sweet potato," Ciel said.

"Right," Neon said. "So shouldn't it be called a stew?"

"I believe a stew would be thicker in consistency," Ciel replied as she walked around Neon to the edge of the worksurface, opposite the microwave, where there were some ciabatta loaves wrapped in plastic sitting on top of the rolls and the crumpets. "Do you want one of these?" Ciel asked, holding up a ciabatta.

"Yeah, thanks," Neon said, putting the plastic tub of soup down.

Ciel retrieved the cutting board from its resting place beside the microwave, on the other side of the kitchen, set it down, and pulled the right sized knife from its resting place on the wall.

"You could have told me why Florentin got into a fight," she said, slightly reproachfully, as she started to slice the two ciabattas in half.

"It wasn't my story to tell," Neon replied. "But you see why I told you not to be too hard on him. He was trying to do the right thing." She leaned against the wall. "Personally, I think it's kind of romantic."

Ciel finished slicing the two loaves. "I thought you said he was doing the right thing."

"Can't it be both?"

Ciel put the knife down beside the sink and bent down to open up the fridge. As she pulled out a tub of margarine, she said, "If Florentin sought to rescue that girl in hopes that she would date him instead, that is hardly doing the right thing."

"That's not what I meant by romantic, and you know it," Neon replied. "You probably know more meanings for the word than I do."

Ciel stood up, holding the margarine in one hand. "Florentin tells me that you rescued him."

"What are family friends for?" Neon asked.

"I'm going to start teaching him how to defend himself," Ciel said as she pulled out a drawer and grabbed a butter knife.

"That's probably a good idea," Neon said. She paused for a moment, letting Ciel get on with buttering the bread. "It isn't your fault, you know."

Ciel's buttering slowed a little. "What isn't?"

"Any of this?" Neon suggested. "But the fact that Florentin is…"

"Unhappy?" Ciel suggested.

"Yeah, let's go with that," Neon said. "It's not your fault for going to Atlas or combat school."

"So I have been told," Ciel murmured, as she plated up the sliced ciabatta.

"And it's true," Neon insisted. "You're whip smart, committed, brave. You'd be wasted at some ordinary job. You belong among the clouds, more than most."

Ciel smiled a little, and not without a little sadness. "Penny said much the same thing."

"She's not completely blind to your quality, then," Neon remarked.

Ciel didn't reply to that. She opened up the microwave, then walked towards the table to retrieve a couple of the tubs of soup.

Neon grabbed her wrists as she reached out for them. "Hey," she said. "It's going to be okay. Things will work out, you'll see."

Ciel wished she could believe that, but was not at all sure that she could. "What makes you so certain?"

"Because all your little brothers are counting on you," Neon reminded her, gently touching her fist against Ciel's cheek. "Which means you can never give up. So chin up, hero."

Ciel smiled. "I'm not sure that thoughts of love and friendship are going to get us through this."

"Maybe not," Neon admitted. "But there are worse places to start, right?"

Signs and Portents, Part One (New)

Signs and Portents, Part One

“Welcome to Mistral, sir; how was Vale?”

“A little unseasonably cold,” Doctor Watts replied to the steward as he disembarked from the airship. “The Atlesians have brought the weather with them from the north.”

The steward laughed. “Well, that won’t be a problem here in Mistral, sir. Are you here for business or pleasure?”

“Strictly business, I’m afraid,” Doctor Watts said. “I shall be rushing from one meeting to another.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy your visit here, regardless.”

Doctor Watts’ smile gleamed like a knife beneath his moustache. “Oh, believe me, I plan to.”

Juturna lay on the sofa, her head resting on a green velvet cushion, her legs resting on the arm on the other side of the settee, kicking slightly up and down. A pair of headphones, wirelessly connected to her scroll, was playing a song from the latest Weiss Schnee album.

“‘But that’s alright,’” Juturna sang along softly, her voice filling the otherwise empty lounge. “‘I’ll be just fine. I’m not concerned with sands of tiiiiiiime. If forever comes and goes I won’t pay it no mind. 'Cause the treasure in my life is being by your side.’”

The great thing about Weiss Schnee’s music, in Juturna’s opinion, was how whoever was writing the songs — she’d never been bothered to check who that was, although she had a vague idea from somewhere that it was her father; or perhaps that was a different artist she was thinking of — wrote them so that they could be applicable to a lot of different people and their experiences. Like the general social media consensus was that this was a romantic ballad, and maybe that was what everyone involved had in mind, but as far as Juturna was concerned, it was also totally about her.

It was about her and Turnus and Camilla.

They are the we of me. That was what she’d said to Ruby as they were having their little tiff, and she’d meant it. She meant it more than she’d meant … maybe anything else. They were … she couldn’t imagine life without them.

She didn’t want to imagine life without them.

She didn’t like it when they weren’t around. It wasn’t that she was bored, by the way, because she wasn’t bored; there was plenty of stuff that she could do to amuse herself.

It was just … she liked having them around. She preferred having them in the house, rather than … somewhere else. Somewhere less safe.

Turnus sometimes — very gently, and without really pushing, which was even in the top twenty reasons why she loved him but was something for which she was grateful regardless — urged her to do something. As far as Juturna was concerned, the question wasn’t why Juturna didn’t do something but why Turnus and Camilla couldn’t take a leaf out of her book and sit around the house a little more. It wasn’t as though they needed to work; they were rich! Juturna wasn’t even sure if Rutulian Security made or lost money half the time — okay, if she actually paid attention, she’d probably find that it made money, but the fact remained that it wasn’t as if they’d been in need of money before Turnus started the business.

After Dad had died, before Turnus got back from Atlas, Camilla had gone out, and she’d slaughtered her way through the Mistral underworld. The Mistral overworld underworld, the ones who lived in big houses and called themselves dumb names like Bullseye and Kingpin … or was it Berserko and Big Boss? Anyway, the point was that Camilla had killed them all and avenged Dad, and everyone thought that she was great, and Camilla was great, and the fact that she was so great — and the fact that Turnus was great too — was a big part of the reason why Juturna didn’t worry too much when they went away like this, but at the same time…

At the same time…

All of that killing hadn’t brought Dad back. He was still as dead as he had been before, and while Camilla was out there taking on the crooked cops and the gangsters, all that Juturna could think about was … all that Juturna could worry about was that, by the time that Turnus got home, they’d be burying their best friend alongside their father.

Treasure had stopped. Juturna wasn’t very keen on The Sky is Falling, so she picked up her scroll and flicked back to the previous track to start the song again. She sat up, briefly, and plucked a chocolate from the expensive box sitting open on the little wooden table beside her, without checking what kind of chocolate it was first.

She regretted that carelessness when it turned out to be blancmange flavoured. Juturna swallowed it anyway, but her face twisted in distaste while she did so. Why did the expensive chocolates come with so many weird flavours? Did anyone actually like them?

And now, Turnus and Camilla were both away, defending this village from bandits — from bandits who had already destroyed one village — and while Juturna was sure that they’d be fine because they were awesome and they were always fine and they had all the guys with them to keep them safe, but at the same time … what if they weren’t fine? What if their luck ran out, like Dad’s luck had run out? What then?

She didn’t want to lose them, and while it was hard to imagine why Rutulian Security would stay together if they weren’t actually doing security, Juturna didn’t want any of them to lose their lives defending random no mark villages in the middle of nowhere.

Lausus had given Juturna her first kiss on her seventeenth birthday; it had been a fumbling, uncertain, messy thing, but she had liked it anyway; they would have gone further except that Camilla had opened the closet door and given him such a look that he had thrown up on the floor at her feet. Turnus had been a little more understanding the next morning, telling her that if she wanted to marry Lausus, he wouldn’t object — the irony that she was allowed to marry a nice, cute boy if she wanted to, but he was determined to try and marry a girl who couldn’t stand him was apparently lost on her big brother — but if not, he’d rather she didn’t fool around too much for the sake of her reputation.

For the sake of her reputation. Yeah, like that was something to worry about. It’s the twenty-third century, bro; nobody cares about that stuff any more.

Silvia had helped her raise a baby deer that she’d found abandoned by its mom on one of the country estates of the Rutulus family; okay, it was more like Silvia had done most of the work, but Juturna had helped a bit. They’d kept the stag — Juturna had named it Ascanius — in the house until it got too big and they had to release it back into the country estate from whence it came, for its own good if nothing else. According to Silvia — and her father, Tyrrheus — the stag still had no fear of people, none at all. You could draw a bow on it, and it wouldn’t run away; it would just look at you, because it had no fear that people would hurt it. And no one would, because it was a Rutulian deer on Rutulian land.

Which meant that it was thoroughly protected.

Opis had a dark past, and she told some of the funniest stories about it, like the time when she’d joined a grimm cult and then had to make her escape when it turned out she was that evening’s sacrifice; they weren’t necessarily all true stories, but that didn’t make them any less fun to listen to. Nisus liked all the same music that she did, and they could spend hours talking about a new album, getting into what all the lyrics might mean and all the nuances that each contained — although he loved The Sky is Falling, so, you know, his taste wasn’t impeccable. Penthesilea exchanged make-up tips with her.

She didn’t know all of them very well, particularly the older guys like Ufens or Euryalus or Murranus, and some of them, she mostly just knew for their loyalty to Turnus, but they were all really great guys, and they all treated her like a little princess in the best way, and even though she wasn’t part of Rutulian Security, she still felt as though they were all kind of part of her family. And although they weren’t as important to her as Turnus and Camilla, that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want them to die.

Except … well, it wasn’t as though they were going to stop if she asked them to. Why would they stop? They wanted to do something.

And they wanted Juturna to do something as well.

Maybe if I did something that made it so that they didn’t have to do anything, that would be cool.

A cool idea, undermined a little bit by the fact that she had no idea of what it would take to make Turnus and Camilla stay home, and no idea of how to accomplish that task that was only an ambition in her mind.

It was kind of funny, that they treated her like she was aimless and drifting and didn’t have any direction in her life, but Juturna knew exactly what she wanted out of her life; it was the two of them who didn’t. Juturna wanted them to be happy. She wanted them to be together. She wanted to be cool, kooky Aunt Juturna to their kids, the kind of aunt who the children could talk to without being judged and who related to them in ways that their parents couldn’t. She wanted to bring happiness into the lives of the people she cared about, and what was wrong with that?

Turnus and Camilla, on the other hand, what did they want? Okay, it wasn’t exactly that they didn’t know what they wanted, but they either wanted the wrong things, or they had no idea of how to get the things they wanted or intention of trying to get them. Camilla just sat and waited without doing anything that would bring the wait to an end or make it worthwhile, and Turnus … what did Turnus even want? Pyrrha Nikos? A girl seven years younger than him and dating somebody else? Seriously? No, that wasn’t what he wanted; he wanted…

Power. That was what Turnus wanted, although he might not admit it. He looked at the way that Mistral was being run and the people who were running it, and he thought that he could do a better job himself.

And maybe he could. Juturna didn’t know much about that. What she did know was that if he were in charge, he probably wouldn’t need to marry Pyrrha anymore.

And he certainly wouldn’t be going out into the field to fight bandits or whatever.

The more Juturna thought about it, the more it sounded like a very good idea to her: King Turnus, Emperor Turnus, Dictator for Life Turnus, Big Guy in Charge Turnus, Hail to the Chief Turnus. Turnus sat on his throne, with Lord Mezentius in his court and his loyal guards around him.

And a fair queen by his side.

Wouldn’t that be something? It would be like one of those stories where love and courage triumph.

Only Juturna had no idea, absolutely no idea at all, how she could begin to make that particular idea happen.

The door to the lounge was open, and as Juturna was kind of sat up and looking that way, she could see Opis walk by.

“Opis?” Juturna called out to her.

Opis had passed the door, but she stuck her head back around it. “Afternoon, m’lady.”

“What are you doing here?” Juturna asked. “I thought you were on a job for Coloratura?”

Opis walked into the room. Her lips were painted black to match the colour of her top. She had a beowolf tattooed on her right shoulder and a tiger tattooed on the inside of her left arm, above the studded bracelets that encircled her wrists. She made to thrust her hands into the pockets of her leather pants, but thought better of it as she walked quickly over to where Juturna half-sat, half-lay upon the sofa.

“I was on a job,” she explained. “But it’s done now.”

“Already?” Juturna asked.

“Falco did most of the work,” Opis explained. “Turns out, the guy wasn’t very hard to track down. The cops could have taken care of it, except that it turns out it actually was a cop, so that makes sense.”

“'A cop'?” Juturna repeated. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Opis muttered darkly. “And if his whole station didn’t know exactly what kind of guy he was, I’d be very surprised. Still, Falco tracked him down — not hard, like I said; apparently, he wasn’t even masking his CC address — but I got to be the one to bust down the door and grab him.”

“Is he still alive?” Juturna asked.

“Yeah,” Opis said. She grinned. “But let’s just say that he’ll have to learn to use his left hand for a lot of stuff. We delivered him to a couple of detectives Falco used to work with; he says they’re trustworthy, so hopefully, they’ll take care of it from here. And if they don’t, well, we know where he lives.” She cracked her knuckles. “Rutulian Security, getting it done since … since a few years ago, when m’lord set it up, I guess.”

“Congratulations,” Juturna said. “I’m glad that Coloratura’s out of the woods. Did you find out anything about her new album while you were there?”

“We were there to protect her, m’lady, not get the latest,” Opis said.

“You could have done both,” Juturna muttered. She picked up the chocolate box from the table in front of her. “You want one?”

“I’m not sure I should.”

“Why? Are you on a diet or something?”

“No, but those look expensive.”

“They are, so?”

“So, I’m not sure that—”

“Oh, come on; I’m offering them to you. Just take one!” Juturna cried.

“Okay, thanks, m’lady,” Opis said. She reached out towards one of the caramel ones.

“Not that one,” said Juturna, who was fond of the soft centres.

Opis grinned. Her fingers waggled a little bit as they hovered over the chocolates. She picked up a round one, with lots of little lumps poking out of the chocolate. “Do you know what this one is?”

“Uh…” Juturna glanced at the chart that had come with the box. “Hazelnut praline.”

“Oh,” Opis said. “Okay.” She popped the sweet into her mouth and chewed on it quickly, swallowing. “Thanks, that was nice.”

“Sit down,” Juturna said.

Opis frowned. “M’lady.”

“Please,” Juturna said. “Sit down. You don’t have anywhere to be, right?”

Opis shook her head.

“Then humour me and take a seat.”

“Sure thing, m’lady, as you wish,” Opis murmured. She grabbed a chair and moved it across the room until she was sitting diagonally across from Juturna on the sofa. “Is something wrong, m’lady?”

Juturna clasped her hands together. “You know that everyone — nearly everyone — is on a job, right?”

Opis nodded. “Achates told me when I got back. I’m sorry I’m going to miss it.”

“They’re going to be okay, right?” Juturna asked.

Opis snorted. “Are you worried, m’lady, is that what this is all about?”

“No!” Juturna squawked. “Maybe. A little.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Opis assured her. “They’re a tough bunch; they’ll be fine.”

“You really believe that?” Juturna asked. “You’re not just saying it to make me feel better?”

Opis leaned forward in her chair. “M’lady … I’m proud to be a member of this group. I’m proud to call myself a Rutulian. I’m proud to serve my lord. And I’m proud of all those things because it means something: we’re a bunch of hard cases; don’t mess with us.” She grinned. “Have some faith, m’lady; no bandit tribe is going to get the best of them, I guarantee it.”

Juturna smiled. “I suppose I should have more faith in my brother and Camilla, right? Believe me, I know that they are … I mean, everyone tells me that they’re great; I don’t get the chance to see it much for myself—”

“They’re the real deal,” Opis said. “We don’t exaggerate that, even if we might have reason to.”

“I just … I don’t want to lose them,” Juturna said softly.

Opis nodded. “I can understand that, m’lady,” she said, her own voice becoming a little quieter. She paused for a moment. “M’lady … I don’t know if this is my place, but … did I ever tell you that I met your father once?”

“No,” Juturna said, sitting up a little. “You met Dad, when? Was it during your dark past?”

“I did not have a dark past,” Opis insisted. “I had a wild and misspent youth; there’s a difference.”

“What is the difference?”

“Dark past makes me sound evil,” Opis said. “Misspent youth makes me sound like a teenager, which I was when I met your father.”

“Was he arresting you?” Juturna asked.

“Something like that,” Opis replied. “He could have thrown the book at me for what I’d done but … he didn’t. He … he talked to me. He listened to me. And when he was done listening to me, he said, ‘I think you’re the kind of person who needs help more than you need punishment. But you’re going to have to want to help yourself in order to make it happen.’ And then he pointed me towards some people who could help me get clean.”

Juturna smiled. “Yeah, that … that sounds a lot like Dad. And did you?”

“Get cleaned up? Yeah,” Opis said. “I mean, I still did a few more dumb things with my life before I found my way here, but I never fell back down that hole again, thanks to your father. I guess … that’s one of the reasons why I decided to join the Rutulians; I wanted to show the old lord that he was right to believe in me.” She cleared her throat. “That sounds kind of dumb now I say it out loud.”

“No,” Juturna said. “No, it doesn’t. It sounds … it sounds really cool.”

“Thanks, m’lady, but I should—”

“Wait,” Juturna said, before Opis could get up. “Come on, you can’t really have to do anything else right now.”

“My lord doesn’t pay me to talk to you, m’lady.”

“What else are you going to do?” Juturna demanded. “Weapon maintenance? Watch TV in the rec room? Spar with Achates or Ilioneus? You can do all of that some other time.”

Opis hesitated for a moment, before she said, “What do you want to talk about?”

Juturna sighed. “Do you think that I ought to do something?”

Opis blinked. “What do you mean, m’lady?”

“I don’t know, get a job or something,” Juturna explained. “Turnus would like me to do something, but he doesn’t say what he’d like me to do.”

“Perhaps m’lord would like you to decide that for myself.”

“Yeah, but I’ve decided to do this, and he doesn’t seem too happy about it,” Juturna exclaimed. “I mean, he’s not unhappy — not in the way that he’s unhappy about other stuff — but … you know what I mean, right?”

Opis shrugged. “If you’re looking for me to tell you that my lord is wrong, m’lady … I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of courage. It isn’t my place, anyway.”

Juturna chuckled. “Fine, I wasn’t trying to get you into any trouble. I just… I don’t know. I’m happy, you know. There’s nothing that I want, except…”

“Except, m’lady?”

“Do you think Turnus would be a good leader?” Juturna asked.

If Opis was fazed by the change of subject, she didn’t show it, only saying, “I think my lord is a good leader, m’lady; we wouldn’t follow him if he weren’t. You can’t pay someone enough to risk their lives for someone they don’t respect.”

“Okay, right, that’s on me; I chose the wrong words,” Juturna said, holding up one hand. “What I mean is…” She paused for a moment, picking a chocolate — the caramel that Opis hadn’t eaten earlier — out of the box and sticking it into her mouth. She chewed on it, and only resumed speaking after she’d swallowed. “Do you want to have another one of these? I’ll let you have a soft centre this time.”

“You’re very kind, m’lady,” Opis said. “Um, do you know which one—?”

“That one’s strawberry, and that one’s orange, if you like either of those,” Juturna said, pointing to two of the sweets. “Or you could have both.”

“One will be enough, thank you, m’lady,” Opis said, taking the orange crème. “But m’lady was saying about a leader.”

“Right, a leader,” Juturna said. “Do you think that Turnus would make a good leader, not just for the Rutulians, but for, like, the whole kingdom?”

“You mean on the Council?”

“Or more than that,” Juturna said.

Opis frowned. “You mean … like—”

“You know,” Juturna said. “In the old days.”

Opis’ eyebrows rose. “You…” She laughed. “Are you serious, m’lady?”

“Come on, it’s just a question,” Juturna said. “Do you think that he’d be any good at it?”

Opis didn’t reply straight away. After a moment, she said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think he would. He’s a fair man; he treats his followers as a lord should, treats his enemies as they deserve, fights well, listens to those worth listening to … most of the time. What more can you ask for?”

“That’s what I thought,” Juturna murmured. That was kind of a lie, but it sounded better than saying ‘I don’t care whether he’d be good at it; I want it because it would make him happy.’

“But it’ll never happen,” Opis said.

“No?” Juturna asked.

Opis stared at her silently for a moment. “M’lady … you’re not joking, are you?”

“Is it really that impossible?” demanded Juturna. “Is there really no way?”

Opis spread out her hands on either side of her. “I … m’lady, this is all way over my head, but … I don’t see how. Short of the Dark Mother stepping in to help you out, I don’t see how.”

Now it was Juturna’s turn to furrow her brow. “'The Dark Mother'?”

“Nothing,” Opis said. “It’s just something from when I was in a grimm cult.”

“Was that before or after Dad helped you get clean?”

“After,” Opis admitted. “But while I may have joined an evil religion, I did so without being under the influence of any substances. In my defence, I didn’t think that people actually worshipped grimm; I thought they were all just poseurs being edgy.”

“Then why did you want to join their club?”

“'Cause it was a club; I wanted to belong to something,” Opis said. “But, when I was there, before they decided that the clueless kid who’d just wandered in would make a pretty good sacrifice, I learned a little bit about the Dark Mother. She’s … I didn’t find out what she is, exactly, but she must be kind of like a grimm … something. Anyway, the point is that, according to the stories, she once helped a common bandit to overthrow the Empress herself, and take control of the whole of Mistral.”

“Really?” Juturna asked, unable to keep the interest out of her voice. “Wait, are you talking about Pyrrha the Second?”

“Maybe,” Opis replied. “I don’t have a lot of schooling, m’lady; I’m not sure who that is.”

“Do you remember anything else about this Dark Mother?” asked Juturna. “Like where she is, or how—?”

“It’s a myth, m’lady; it’s a fairy tale told by deluded morons,” Opis said.

“But what if it isn’t?” Juturna said. “I mean, a bandit really did overthrow the Empire, for a little bit anyway; she killed the Empress and took over the city and ruled Mistral for the rest of her life, so maybe she really did have help from someone, from this Dark Mother, whoever she is.” Her blue eyes lit up as she had a great idea. “Could you take me to a grimm—?”

“No,” Opis said flatly.

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“You were going to ask me to take you to a grimm cult, weren’t you, m’lady?”

“Yes, so—”

“No.”

Juturna pouted. “Why not?”

“Because they’re a bunch of freaks, and they murder people, and m’lord would skin me alive if I took you within a mile of a place like that,” Opis declared. “And that’s only if Camilla didn’t get her hands on me first.”

She got to her feet. “Grimm cults are full of losers who couldn’t get laid when they were young dreaming about how they’re going to totally rise up and show everyone. That’s why their story is about a mommy who gives them everything they ever wanted. It’s not real, and it’s no place for a girl like you. I’m sorry, m’lady, but I can’t — won’t — help you do something like that.”

Juturna sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “I guess you’re right; Turnus and Camilla would kill us both if they found out about it. And you’re right; it probably isn’t real. Just a fairytale, like you said.” She folded her arms. “Poor bro. You know, I think the way things are is really starting to get to him. You know, on the night of the Breech, he sat outside my room all night? I could hear him breathing on the other side of the door.”

Opis clenched her hands. “He wasn’t the only one who lost sleep that night. Were you worried, m’lady?”

“No,” Juturna said. “No, I wasn’t worried at all, because my brother and Camilla and all of you were here.”

Opis smiled quickly. “As for politics … what m’lord needs is a really nice girl to take his mind off things.”

Juturna laughed. “A really nice girl, huh?” she repeated. “I wonder what they’re up to right now?”

Turnus climbed the steps, turning in circles as the staircase wound around the central column of stone. It was dark and gloomy, lit only by a few dying fire dust crystals set in sconces on the walls, but with the staircase being as narrow as it was and without anywhere else to go, he didn’t have to worry about losing his way or not being able to see where was going.

In any case, he soon reached the top of the stairs, emerging out of the gloom and into the mid-morning sunshine as he climbed out onto the roof of the old temple.

The village of Ardea was spread out all around and beneath him, the rustic houses with their low silhouettes, the stalls set out for market with their coloured awnings, the stables with their piles of straw, the carts resting empty and unused, or else filled up and with asses or oxen in harness. And beyond that, the fields that kept the village fed: to the north and west, wheat and corn blossoming from the earth in expectation of the harvest; to the east, vegetables of various sorts, they were all sticking their greenery out of the ground, but Turnus could not have said what was lying undisturbed beneath; and to the south, sheep and lambs grazing in fields where only grass grew, moving slowly from one place to another, paying no mind to anything.

Of the various directions, it was the north and west that concerned him the most; the corn had grown so long that a man could easily move through it without being seen.

That was why he had posted a lookout here, on the roof of the tallest building in the village, so that they could see out beyond the crops and see anyone who might approach before they got that far.

Religion might be dying in Remnant, but this temple still saw a great deal of use as a communal space, as the mayor had taken great pains to explain to Turnus as he showed him around. For that reason, it had been kept in better repair than its religion, and as Turnus stepped out onto the roof, he felt none of the roof tiles move beneath his feet and had no need to take any especial care when walking.

Camilla was sitting on the roof, her bow, Diana’s Devotion, propped up on the roof tiles beside her, the top pressed against her cheek. She was sitting on the very top of the roof, perched upon the central line, able to look both ways unimpaired with her keen eyes, but at the moment, she was looking north, where the corn would obstruct the view of Turnus’ other sentries.

As Turnus approached, she began to rise. “My lord—”

“Keep your seat,” Turnus urged her, choosing to sit down beside her. He paused for a moment, taking in the view of this rustic locale. “There are times when I envy you your semblance,” he murmured. “To be able to see so far and so clearly, it must be … quite something.”

“There are times when it is … when I appreciate it,” Camilla murmured. “When you look up and see a bird in the sky, it can appear to be nothing more than a dark shape, a pair of flapping wings perhaps, but with my semblance…” She smiled. “I can see every spot upon its beak, see every feather on its wing—”

“Now you’re trying to make me jealous,” Turnus muttered.

Camilla chuckled, covering her mouth with one hand. “Forgive me, my lord,” she said softly. “That was not my intent.”

“Even if it were your intent, there would be nothing to forgive,” Turnus replied. “What you describe sounds very impressive, but I suppose it must get awkward when you suddenly have to look at something close by.”

“I turn it off in those cases.”

“Does it get all blocky, like a picture magnified too much upon a screen?”

“No, my lord, men are not computer files,” Camilla said dryly. “Rather … the lines on Ufens’ face become like canyons to my eyes, the hairs of Euryalus’ beard become like black oaks.”

“You make it almost sound appealing,” Turnus said dryly.

“There is some beauty to be found in details, don’t you think?” Camilla asked.

Turnus glanced at her and found his eye drawn momentarily to the beauty spot beneath her eye. He looked away, a frown creasing his face. “I … suppose so.”

“Not that I have had much opportunity to observe such things today, my lord,” Camilla said immediately. “I would be remiss in my duty if I had.”

“Of course,” Turnus replied. “Have you seen anything?”

“No,” Camilla said.

“No sign of Nisus and Euryalus, or Silvia?”

Camilla shook her head. “No. Nothing from the north or the west. I would have signalled if I had,” she added in a tone of modest reproach.

“I do not doubt it,” Turnus assured her. “But…”

“Impatient, my lord?” Camilla asked. “Or nervous?”

Once more, Turnus glanced at her. “You need not call me lord up here, in private, where only the gods can hear us.”

“We are in the field,” Camilla reminded him. “It is as well to observe discipline everywhere. And besides, you are my lord.”

“And your friend, no?”

Camilla was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said softly, although she matched it with a gentle smile. “Yes, you are my friend.”

Turnus himself took pause before he answered. “It is both impatience and nervousness. I do not regret taking this job for free, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t want it to be done so that we can go home. And nervousness … sending scouts out always makes me nervous. Our strength is in our numbers—“

“We are not some unskilled mob that can only prevail by swamping the enemy with bodies and drowning them in our own blood,” Camilla said mildly.

“Indeed not, but … some of my men, I would match against a huntsman: you, myself, a few others; some are not quite at that level, although they are not far off either. But the reason why I deem us more capable than a huntsman, more suited to defend a place like this than a huntsman, is that we are forty men who fight as one. But Silvia is out by herself, and Nisus and Euryalus … if Silvia were to be caught—”

“That she is not caught is why Silvia went out by herself,” Camilla reminded him. “So that no more leaden-footed comrade could slow her down or reveal her to the enemy. Have faith, my lord.”

“I have faith,” Turnus clarified. “But if I did not also have concern, that would make me a poor lord, no? And a poor commander, what is worse.” He paused. “If you want to come down from here, I can have Palinurus relieve you.”

Camilla shook her head. “I’m fine. Palinurus has good eyes, but he does not have my semblance. My semblance with which I can see Silvia approaching.”

“Where?” Turnus demanded.

Camilla pointed to the west. “She’s just emerged from the tree line.”

Said tree line, the point at which an old and tangled Mistralian forest, full of wild trees with thick trunks and long branches, began to disappear off into the distance, was some way off. Turnus looked that way, squinting, and yet, he could not see Silvia approaching as Camilla proclaimed.

“Where?” he asked. “I don’t see her.”

“I see her plain as day,” Camilla said. A little amusement entered her voice. “And she must know that I can see her, because she’s waving at me.”

By this point, Turnus thought that he could see something, a shape just beyond the forest, someone moving in the direction of the village. It must be Silvia, not only because Camilla wouldn’t lie to him but also because Silvia was the one he had sent to scout the west for signs of the bandits that had destroyed Evanteum.

“I’ll go down and see what she’s found,” Turnus said as he got up. “Are you sure that you’re alright to remain up here?”

“Quite alright,” Camilla said. “Go. With good fortune, she will have found our prey.”

“Indeed,” Turnus agreed, before he retraced his steps over the temple roof back to the hatch from which he had emerged. He climbed down. To descend in darkness was theoretically trickier than to ascend, but Turnus took the steps two or three at a time regardless, bounding down the circular staircase until he emerged into the main temple. The frescoes on the walls were faded, the colours muted by exposure to too much light and not enough repair; he could barely make out what was being depicted: wild beasts, or a hunt, maybe; not grimm, but leopards and lions and men with … something in their hands. Spears, perhaps. It mattered very little, at this point, but Turnus could not help feel it was a little disappointing that this place where once the gods of old Mistral had been worshipped had become a site for village meetings and jumble sales.

He started for the door, but turned back instead towards the altar, where a statue of Seraphis, the Lord of the Sky, stared down at him.

The dignity of the god was somewhat deflated by the fact that his nose was gone.

Nevertheless, Turnus bowed his head. “Gods of my fathers,” he whispered, “I thank you for sending to me unharmed my servant Silvia; if she has returned not only well but with news, I will sacrifice to you, to Seraphis and Re who watch us from the air, six pigeons. Upon my name as a Rutulus, I vow it shall be so.”

And with that, he did turn away, striding out of the temple and into the village itself. The roads of Ardea were not paved, merely dirt tracks that formed a rough cross with a few minor streets jutting off them, but it was down that dirt road to the north that Turnus strode. His men lined the road, sitting on overturned crates or simply on the ground, leaning against the walls of the buildings that fronted onto the main road. Some were checking their weapons or sharpening their blades; others were eating; others were otherwise occupying themselves, or simply waiting. Waiting for him to give the orders, waiting for the action, waiting.

They recognised from his pace that he was in a hurry, and so, aside from a few hasty acknowledgements, a few ‘my lord’s, nobody tried to stay him.

And so he reached the northern edge of the village, by which point, he could see Silvia reasonably clearly enough as she jogged down the road towards.

She did not look as though she was in flight, which suggested that at least she hadn’t been observed; it might also mean that she hadn’t found anything, judging by the way that she was not in an immense hurry to deliver the news.

On the other hand, she could also be pacing herself.

Silvia was a deer faunus, with doe ears sprouting out from either side of her head; her eyes were a chestnut brown like a deer’s fur. Her hair was black and hung loose down behind her about halfway to her waist; as she ran, it streamed behind her slightly like the banner of an army. Her skin was browned by a life lived in the outdoors, and she was dressed in various shades of dark green and dull brown, although her chestnut cloak was dappled with white spots. She had a bow, which could also turn into a quarterstaff at need, slung across her back, and a plethora of knives thrust into her belt.

Murranus was standing sentinel just beyond the edge of the village, and Silvia reached out a hand, enclosed in a black fingerless glove, to high-five him as she ran past, stopping in front of Turnus. She bowed her head, her black hair falling all around her. “My lord.”

“Silvia,” Turnus said. “Glad to see you make it back in one piece.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Silvia said, raising her head. “I wish that I had better news to bring back.”

“You didn’t find anything?” Turnus asked.

Silvia shook her head. “No, my lord. Not a trail, not a trace. If they’re still around, they’re nowhere to the north of us.”

“What about grimm?” demanded Turnus. It would, after all, be a fine thing if the grimm fell upon them while they were engaged with the bandits, wherever they might be.

“I didn’t see any of them either, my lord, and if the grimm see you, they let you know it,” Silvia replied.

Turnus nodded. “Well, it’s a pity, but don’t take it too hard; if they weren’t there, then they weren’t there.”

He did not even entertain the possibility that they were there but Silvia had missed them; Silvia’s father was the chief ranger of the Rutulus’ estates, and had been since his father’s day, and he had taught his daughter everything he knew about woodcraft, tracking, trails, and the like. While old Tyrrheus himself had not been interested in exchanging his old job for a new one with Rutulian Security, his daughter had been more interested in a new life of intermittent adventure and excitement.

If she hadn’t found anything, it was because there was nothing to be found. Turnus might be concerned for his people, but his faith in them was absolute.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Get some rest. If Euryalus and Nisus find anything, then we’ll still need you for the fight ahead.”

Silvia grinned. “Don’t worry, my lord, I’ve got plenty left to give.”

Turnus smiled. “Get some rest anyway. Nothing will happen until Euryalus and Nisus return.”

“Yes, my lord,” Silvia said, and the grin remained on her face as she walked down the street, following Turnus’ footsteps in reverse.

Turnus remained where he was, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked out across the land spread out around Ardea, the farming fields giving way to the woods and the wild, uncultivated meadow.

It was … a lovely place. Not unique, by any means, it was very representative of rural Anima, but all that proved was that Anima itself was a very lovely place.

Atlas, where he had gone to school and spent a little while in his first job, was an impressive sight to look upon, a technological marvel that induced admiration; the icy plains of Solitas had a cold beauty about them. But Anima, these villages, their fields and farms, the woods and the streams, the life that filled this vast and ancient land, it had a charm that nowhere else on Remnant possessed.

Anima was a land; Mistral was a kingdom, possessed of a rich history longer than any other kingdom enjoyed. Other lands might possess the ruins of ancient kingdoms fallen and forgotten, but in Mistral, the ruins were as like to belong to some earlier age of Mistral itself as they were to any musty, long-forgotten realm of interest only to archaeologists. The ghosts of Mistral’s past haunted not only the houses of the great, but the fallen ruins in which they had dwelled, the rivers by which they had stopped to drink, the fields in which they had fought for the glory of their names and the honour of their families. Mistral had a grand old past. Mistral had a teeming present too; it was a land filled with life, spotted with villages just like Ardea where simple, honest folk reaped and sowed and reared and lived. Mistral had a rich past and an equally rich present, but … but he could not see that it had a future.

And it was a disgrace. A disgrace which filled him with anger. Look at this place, a charming place to be sure, but one which lived from day to day under the threat of annihilation from grimm or bandits — bandits! In this day and age! To think that a kingdom, a modern kingdom, should be infested with brigands as though hundreds of years of progress and development had never taken place. Yes, it was a large kingdom, and wild, with many open spaces, but so what? With all the ways that mankind had developed, with all the technology at their disposal, it should not have been beyond the wit of man to find some way to suppress them all and their activities. And yet, they were treated as an issue as endemic as the common cold, a problem with no beginning and no ending.

That was what was so frustrating, not just that there were problems, but that nobody was interested in finding solutions. Nobody had any answers because they weren’t even looking. Mistral was running to stand still and didn’t even manage that with any consistency.

Not that he had any easy, obvious answers, but … but at least he recognised the need to look for them!

A sigh escaped him. Camilla was right, ultimately; he would never … standing here and brooding on it wasn’t going to make any changes, was it?

But what else could he do? Go into politics? No, he was not … even if he could unbend enough to gladhand for votes amongst the populace, certain aspects of his reputations — all the deaths — would almost certainly count against him. He had broken no laws, and he had done nothing dishonourable, but some would say that duelling was a tradition that had outstayed its welcome. Not to mention the hypocrisy of someone who wished to bring Mistral into the future and yet at the same time invoke the bloodiest of the old ways.

No, he would not be voted onto the Council, and even if he did, he would only be one voice amongst five. So what then? What could he do? What could anyone do to halt this decline?

Turnus was distracted from these thoughts by a cough from behind him. He turned around to find himself looking down upon the Mayor of Ardea, one Drances by name, a small, lean man dressed in black, with a silver chain of office dangling from his neck. Turnus had to admit that he didn’t much care for the fellow, possibly because he had a face that reminded Turnus of a rat.

Or perhaps it was the fact that he had sniffed at Camilla when they had first arrived, and seemed to be struggling to restrain himself from sneering every time he came near her.

Nevertheless, Turnus endeavoured to maintain a courteous tone as he asked, “Can I help you?”

Drances rubbed his hands together, as though he were washing them. “My lord,” he said, in a simpering tone, “as grateful as we are that you have not only come to defend us from these vile brigands, but also to do so free of charge … nevertheless…”

“Some might say that complaining about a service you are getting for nothing is rather churlish,” Turnus remarked. “Nevertheless, if there is anything unsatisfactory about our work, then by all means, let me hear it.”

Drances glanced away. “Thank you, my lord, you are truly the most generous lord in all of Mistral. However, ahem … when you agreed to come and defend our village from these vile brigands I thought, we thought, that, perhaps, you might, ahem, defend the village.”

“I do not see anyone to defend it from, do you?” Turnus asked.

“No,” Drances admitted. “But, forgive me, my lord, I am not a warlike man, but is not now the time to be establishing defences for when the enemy does come?”

“Perhaps,” Turnus said. “If you could afford to keep us here for weeks on end. But these bandits are cowards, they prey on targets which they can easily overcome; the moment they saw that this village was garrisoned and defended, they would leave it alone. Perhaps they would leave you alone for good, or for a year, or even a season. Or perhaps they would watch and wait until my men and I returned to Mistral and then fall upon your once-more defenceless village. I do not mean to take that chance. That is why I have sent out scouts to locate the bandit camp, and once they return, we shall fall upon them with all our strength, and either destroy them or at least do so much damage that they will flee this region never to return. That is why my men are not wasting time digging trenches or putting up barricades: because if they must make a march of some distance and fight a battle at the end of it, I would have them rested beforehand. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Drances murmured. He bowed his head. “Forgive me—”

“Your concern for your village is natural,” Turnus told him. “But I know what I’m doing, and my men are brave and loyal and true, especially the faunus amongst them.”

Drances’ eyes widened, and he looked away for a moment, muttering something underneath his breath.

“You came to us because of our reputation,” Turnus said. “And that reputation is not undeserved. Trust us. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Drances bowed his head. “Of course, my lord.”

Turnus nodded to him, and then walked past him, retracing his steps back down the dirt road. His steps were slower now, making it clear that he was open to anything that any of his men might wish to raise with him. He stopped beside Pallas, who was not quite the youngest of the Rutulians — that would be Nisus, who had just turned sixteen — but at seventeen, he was one of the cubs of the outfit, and one who had yet to see any combat. He had failed his initiation into Haven Academy, failing to find a token or a partner, but he was a brave young man, and Turnus had seen no reason why he should be forced to give up on all his dreams so easily.

He was a short, slender youth with tangled hair of dark brown, partially restrained by a thin golden circlet bound around his brow, although that didn’t stop his hair from curling up beneath it. He was dressed in a long blue tunic, trimmed with gold, which hung down to about his knees, with a gilded cuirass worn over it and a pair of greaves upon his legs. In his hands, he held a rifle, which could transform into a spear when the situation required it, and he was looking down at it when Turnus approached.

Turnus reached out and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Everything alright?”

Pallas looked up at him. “My lord? Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I don’t blame you for being distracted,” Turnus said. “It’s a fine weapon you have.”

“Yes,” Pallas agreed, a smile appearing on his face, although it faded as quickly as it had come. “My father got it for me, when … when he thought that I was going to become a huntsman.”

“You had bad luck,” Turnus assured him. “It says nothing of your courage or your quality.”

“Does it not?” Pallas asked. “I mean … I couldn’t complete the trial that the other students could; what does that say but that I’m not worthy?”

“Bad luck, as I said,” Turnus replied. “You know that I dropped out of Atlas Academy.” That was not quite true, but … well, it was one thing to admit that he hadn’t graduated and another thing to admit that he’d been expelled. “Does that make me less of a warrior, less of a man, than someone who graduated? Does knowing that change your mind about wanting to be here and fight at my side?”

“No, my lord,” Pallas said at once. “You’re still—”

“I am still myself,” Turnus said. “Still possessed of all the qualities that make me myself. A licence, or the lack of it, cannot change that. What is the name of that weapon you bear?”

Pallas’ cheeks reddened. “A… A Father’s Blessing, my lord.”

Turnus smiled. “A fine name, of which you need not feel ashamed. You will do it honour, I am sure.”

“Thank you, my lord. I mean, I will, my lord.”

“It’s natural to be nervous,” Turnus told him. “I will not tell you to know no fear. But I would not send you into battle if I did not think you capable, and I will not lead you into a battle unless I believe it can be won.”

There was a whistling sound, a shrill whistle that cut through the air, coming from above — from the ceiling of the temple.

“I think the battle may come soon now, with good fortune,” Turnus declared. “Brave heart, Pallas.”

“Yes, my lord. I won’t let you down, my lord.”

“I have no doubt,” Turnus replied, before he turned away from Pallas and strode — with as much purpose as he had made to meet Silvia — towards the temple. “Is it Euryalus?” he called up. “Or the enemy?”

Camilla’s head appeared over the edge of the roof. “Euryalus and Nisus returning, my lord,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, before heading to the western edge of Ardea to wait for his remaining scouts.

As with Silvia, it took him a little time — lacking Camilla’s extraordinary vision — before he could see them in any detail, but sure enough, as he joined Ufens where the houses gave way the crops, he could see the two of them making their way towards him.

They were an odd pair, Nisus and Euryalus. Euryalus was the older of the two, a man of mature years, his long, dark hair and beard alike streaked with grey, his body concealed beneath a cloak of forest green. He was a countryman by upbringing and profession, a herdsman and gamekeeper upon the Rutulus’ estates. A good shot, a good runner, and a good man for sneaking around, Turnus felt that he had been wasted keeping poachers away or keeping the wolves from the flock.

Nisus was not the best man in Rutulian Security, but he was by general consensus the prettiest, a fact that might even last once he became old enough to shave. He was only sixteen years old, and next year, Turnus meant to sponsor him through Haven Academy, and had no doubt that he would do very well there — with good fortune. His father had been a police officer, one of the few good ones, and just like Turnus’ father, he had been killed for refusing to become one of the bad ones. Turnus had taken the young man on in order to save his mother from destitution; it had felt like the least he could do in memory of a man who had served his father well, and he too had proven to have some talent as a scout.

Haven would be glad of him next year, but Turnus was glad of him now.

Nisus and Euryalus. The two of them were practically inseparable, although Turnus was not sure what the precise nature of their relationship was; so long as they did their jobs — and they did — it was none of his concern. He was simply glad to have them here.

They halted before him, and bowed.

“My lord,” Euryalus said.

“My lord,” echoed Nisus, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Turnus found it slightly infectious, pricking at the corners of his mouth. “I hope that look on your face, Nisus, means that the two of you found something.”

“Oh, we’ve found more than something, my lord,” Nisus said. “We found their camp.”

Turnus clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Excellent work, both of you! Where? How far off?”

“Eight miles, my lord, perhaps nine,” Euryalus said. He got out his scroll, opening it up and bringing up a map. “Here, my lord.”

Turnus’ own scroll pinged. He got it out and opened it; Euryalus had just sent him the very same map that he had brought up on his own device; the bandit camp was marked upon it. They had not chosen a bad location to establish themselves, he had to admit: they had made camp by the side of a river, which would not only provide a water source but also protect their flank from assault, while hills surrounded them on the other three sides, with only a narrow defile to gain entrance to the camp on even ground. However, it was one thing to choose terrain to your advantage, and another thing to make best use of it.

“Were you seen?” he asked. “Do they know we’re here?”

“If they know we’re here, my lord, then they take us damn lightly,” Euryalus replied.

“Meaning?”

“They’re having a laugh, my lord,” Nisus declared. “They’ve put up a palisade across the defile, but there’s no firestep and just one dozy looking sentry outside.”

“And on the hills overlooking the camp?” Turnus asked.

“No one, my lord,” Euryalus said. “That’s how we found them: we got up on the hill to the east and looked right down on their camp, and they never noticed.”

“Not one sentry, other than the man before the palisade?”

“No, my lord,” answered Euryalus.

Turnus snorted. “Cocky bunch, aren’t they?”

It occurred to him that perhaps they were a little too cocky, or rather, that the situation that Nisus and Euryalus had laid out for him was just a little too easy. It might be a trap; they might have spotted Nisus and Euryalus coming and made out that their preparations were more lax than was actually the case in order to draw him into an attack.

But to what end? Bandits did not seek battle, as a rule; they sought easy prey and would rather plunder the weak than fight the strong. A battle against his forces, even if they managed to ambush them, would cost them more than he suspected they were willing to pay. He thought that if they knew that he was in the area, then they would move camp, hope to avoid him and, as he had said to Mayor Drances, wait for him and his to go away. They were no more likely to try and lure him into an assault on their camp than they were to try and assault Ardea while the Rutulians defended it. And how would they know he was here? If their scouts had gotten close enough to the village to see him, then Camilla would have spotted them.

At most, if they had become aware of Nisus and Euryalus’ presence, they might have thought them huntsmen, but in that case, they would have attacked them there and then, no?

No, he did not think this was a trap. He thought this was a case of bandits who had encountered little resistance to their depredations in this region so far and had become complacent over it, something he would teach them to regret.

And if it was a trap of some kind, he would teach them to regret that too; a tiger in a pit was still a tiger, after all.

“Good work, both of you,” he said. “You will be rewarded for it once we get home.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Ufens,” Turnus said, “get the men together in the temple. I’ll join you there shortly.”

Ufens, broad-shouldered and bald-headed, bowed said head as the sunlight danced upon his dome. “At once, my lord.”

Turnus himself went in search of Mayor Drances, finding him returned to his home, which also served as the town hall in so small a place as Ardea. Doubtless, it would seem poor in comparison with the mayors of more prosperous settlements, but the hanging tapestries that descended from the walls looked handsome enough, and more than any other villager here in Ardea could boast, no doubt.

“My lord?” Drances said, getting up from behind the low table at which he had been kneeling. “Is there some news? Or something I can do for you?”

“My men and I will be moving out soon,” Turnus said. “By morning, I hope that the threat of these brigands will be dealt with.”

“That is excellent news, my lord,” Drances declared. “The hopes of the whole village go with you and your company, I have no doubt.”

“I could do with just a little more than hopes,” Turnus said. “Since I have taken on this task for free, I am sure that the village would not begrudge me the donation of a strong ram; surely you can spare one?”

He would, if push came to shove, pay for it, but although he could afford it, he resented a little the idea of having to pay his client for something that was, to him at least, a part of his work here; especially since they were not paying him anything.

“A ram?” Drances repeated. “Rams … yes, we have a few; this is a sheep village in part, but … why, my lord?”

“For sacrifice,” Turnus answered. “I am a man of the old ways as much as I am a man of the future.”

“'Sacrifice'? You mean you want to kill it?”

“Did you imagine that I might want it as a mascot?”

“No, my lord, but I…” Drances trailed off. “I suppose I can hardly refuse, can I, my lord?”

“You can,” Turnus allowed. “But I would take it as a kindness if you did not.”

Drances made a wordless murmuring sound. “None of the farmers will wish to give up one of their rams,” he observed. “But they will like being killed by bandits even less, I think. I must confess, my lord, that a part of me thought that sending for help, with the meagre sum that we could raise, was a fool’s errand. Compared with your generosity, a ram seems a very small price to pay. Very well, you shall have your sacrifice. I shall see which farmer can mostly easily part with it, and which I can strong-arm into doing so.”

The ram was procured, by what precise means, Turnus did not care to know; what he cared about was that it was a fine, strong beast, with proud horns that curved down and then back upwards again, with a thick coat and strength enough that it required his might to carry it into the temple and to hold it down.

Nevertheless, hold it down he did as he laid it upon the altar in the temple.

He wondered, as the ram bleated and writhed between his unrelenting grip, how long it had been since this altar had last been used for such a purpose?

Too long, perhaps, but no matter; it would serve its intended use today.

Turnus did not look around, but he could feel the gaze of his men upon him. They did not have to participate in this ritual, if they did not wish to, but he wished for them to be here, to see this, and to hear him once the ritual was done.

He glanced down, into the eyes of the ram as it struggled futilely to escape from him. He could feel its struggle; it had to be a strong beast, or the sacrifice was nearly worthless. It had to be strong, or else it showed disrespect to the gods.

Turnus looked up from the ram and into the face of Seraphis, whose graven image stared down at him; in this moment, with the candles lit around him, with their smoke beginning to fill the air, not even the lack of a nose for the statue could take away from the sense of gravity that Turnus felt.

Properly, of course, this should have been done at a shrine to Eulalia, Loud of the War-Cry, the Lady of Victory, or else to Allecto the hateful God of War, but a small village like this had only one temple, and as Seraphis was the lord of heaven, all sacrifices could upon his altar be laid.

Turnus held out one hand. Camilla pressed a knife into his palm.

Turnus drew in a deep breath. “Seraphis, Lord of the Sky, Lord of Heaven, author and upholder of order, god of my father, god of my ancestors, hear the prayer of your devoted servant. Eulalia, Loud of the War-Cry, bearer of the aegis, you who inspire warriors to the valour that breaks the battle line, hear the prayer of one who goes to battle in your name. Allecto, God of War, you who delight in death and suffering, hear the prayer of one who goes to shed blood upon the soil.”

In a single stroke, Turnus slit the throat of the ram that lay upon the altar. Its blood, dark red like wine, began to spill out across the stone, pooling where the altar dipped a little like a shallow bowl.

“Look with pleasure on this offering and stand with we who dedicate ourselves to victory and battle in common purpose.” He put aside the knife, and even as the ram still struggled with increasing feebleness, he dipped his hand into the lifeblood that flowed from the dying beast and, with his fingers, smeared it across his face. “Hear me, gods, and stand with us upon this day, that we may win great glory and bring great evil to a close.”

He stepped away, descending the steps that led to the altar. Camilla took his place, her vulpine tail raised, twitching slightly as he placed her whole hand into the pool of blood and made a handprint on her face like a child painting the wall.

“Eulalia, grant me swift feet that I may run across the sheaves of corn and not disturb, and a keen eye that my life-taking shafts shall never miss their mark.”

She, too, stepped away. None of the Rutulians were forced to partake in this ritual, and yet, all did so, all that Turnus had brought to Ardea. Ufens smeared the blood across his bald head. Lausus drew a red line across his neck as though his throat had been cut. Pallas made a clean, straight line down his forehead and over his nose. Silvia smeared the blood around her mouth like badly applied lipstick, or the results of eating raw meat. One by one, every man approached the altar, and touched themselves with the sacrificial blood, and murmured some words to the gods who would aid them in the battle ahead.

Nisus was the last man to approach the altar, and once he, too, was smeared with blood, Turnus returned to the altar. The ram was now dead, and Turnus placed a fire dust crystal besides its lifeless body and, with a touch of his aura, set it ablaze.

Fire began to consume the carcass, devouring the meat and turning it to smoke which would rise up to heaven and fill the nostrils of the gods.

As the smoke began to rise, as the temple began to fill with the scent of burning meat, Turnus addressed his men.

“Rutulians,” he said, his voice echoing off the temple walls, “as I’m sure that you have already guessed, I do not mean to wait here and receive attack from these bandits, if indeed they were minded to give it. No, thanks to the efforts of Nisus and Euryalus — although I am sure that, if the directions I commanded had been reversed, Silvia would have found them also—”

“Thank you kindly, my lord,” Silvia said.

“I object!” Euryalus declared, prompting a round of laughter from the assembled warriors.

Turnus smiled, but continued on, “Thanks to the efforts of Nisus and Euryalus, the location of the bandit camp is known to us. And we shall fall upon them, and put them to the sword.

“Be under no illusions. I do not wish any man to become complacent, for complacency will kill as swiftly as any sword. These brigands have slain a huntsman — that we know of; there may be more. There are clearly those amongst them who are not without skill; they will have aura and semblances, and even those who do not will fight ferociously to survive, and they will give no quarter. Our enemy is vicious, cruel, and inhuman, and they will not hesitate to kill, even if you are wounded or disarmed. Expect no mercy, for you will receive none.

“However, we are not without advantages. Our enemy does not know that we are here. Our enemy does not know that we know where they are. Surprise is on our side, and so is the complacency of our foe. Euryalus and Nisus have observed few sentries, no preparations; when we fall on them, they will stumble out of their tents, astonished at what is happening, startled; they will not know how to respond. We will push hard, and we will keep up the pressure; we will not let them rally. We will set them running, and we will slaughter them as they retreat.

“Some of you have been with me since I founded this company. Some of you have joined our ranks only recently. But you are all well-trained, you are all well-equipped, and you are all comrades. Trust in your weapons, trust in your armour, but most of all, trust in the men alongside you.

“They are a disparate band of killers; we are a united band of warriors, and with our unity we will prevail.” Turnus drew his sword, Eris, and brandished it above his head. “Rutulians!”

“Rutulians!” his warriors roared.

“Eulalia!” he cried.

“Eulalia!”

Author's Note

Artwork by the very talented Aleiah

Signs and Portents, Part Two (New)

Signs and Portents, Part Two

Professor Leonardo Lionheart did not feel like a well man.

Judging by the feeling in his stomach, he worried that all of this lying was giving him a stomach ulcer.

Certainly, the presence of Lady Terri-Belle in his office wasn’t settling his stomach in any way.

Lionheart’s office was spacious, but seemed less so due to how much stuff he had managed to cram into it: two shelves sat on either side of the door, tall enough to reach from floor to ceiling and absolutely filled with books; the crawlspace above the many windows that lined the exterior walls of the semi-circular room were cluttered with unopened boxes, unused accessories, gifts he had never found a place or a use for, more books. Little tables sat in both corners of the room, surrounded not only by chairs but by more stuff, boxes littering the floor where he had put them down, always intending to find a place for them but somehow never quite managing to find the time. The only place in his whole office that didn’t feel cluttered and crowded was his desk, a semicircle like the office, which was bare except for the screen and for the nameplate that sat in front of it, in case anyone forgot his name.

Actually, it was there as a conversation starter in case any of the students dropped by in need of a chat, or some tea and sympathy. He liked to joke that he had his name on his desk in case he forgot it; he’d found it a way of breaking the ice with a nervous child.

That was part of the reason he didn’t clean up the office; with all the clutter and the junk, there was bound to be something here that would catch a student’s interest, prompt them to ask what it was, what was in that box, where did that come from. It was a way to start a conversation, fill an awkward silence.

Like the awkward silence that now lay between himself and Lady Terri-Belle as she sat on his desk, her back half turned to him, her head bowed, one hand resting on her forehead.

“Do you still run open office?” Terri-Belle asked.

“I do,” Lionheart replied. He forced a laugh. “When there are students here, of course.”

Terri-Belle smiled, though it seemed a smile as false as his laughter, like something stretched across her face against its will. “I remember … it must have been my first week here; I came to you—”

“And asked me if the sole reason I had made you team leader was because of who your father was,” Lionheart murmured. “I recall.”

“And you told me that of course it was because of who my father was,” Terri-Belle said. She looked up. “But that was no reason I couldn’t be worthy of it.”

She looked at him, and her smile seemed a little more genuine now, almost reaching up to her eyes. “Professor, I must confess that I have … not always considered you a good fit for the post of headmaster … but whatever your merits as a teacher, you were always an excellent counsellor.”

“I … thank you, my lady,” Lionheart murmured, feeling as though he had just been stabbed through the gut. He swallowed and tasted bile in his mouth. “I … every headmaster has their own style, of course, but … I’ve never thought that there should be any reason why Haven shouldn’t become a home for the students. After all, it is in the name.”

He tried to smile, although he wasn’t sure what it looked like to Terri-Belle. “Not a Beacon for all mankind, not Atlas rising above the clouds … a Haven. A safe haven for those who come here to learn, and grow, and find themselves. I know that you are far from the only one, my lady, to have doubts about my fitness for this position, and I know that our performances in the Vytal Festival have been frequently disappointing, but so long as the students were happy here … I’m not sure that the rest really mattered.”

“You are a kind man, Professor,” Terri-Belle murmured. “Although … do you keep track of how many of your students yet live?”

“No,” Lionheart said softly. “No, I’m afraid not.” Lately, he would have found it too painful to endure.

“I see,” Terri-Belle said, sounding a little disappointed. She paused for a moment. “How large is this year’s fourth year? Thirty students? Forty?”

“Thirty-two,” Lionheart said.

“Thirty-two, I see,” Terri-Belle repeated. “I believe I see a way out of this, Professor. Next year, sooner than that, in just a few months once the Vytal Festival is over and everything is wrapped up, there will be thirty-two new huntsmen trained and licensed; if we can only reach that point without more losses, that will be an increase in our numbers of half again, not counting the Imperial Guard. If we can reach the end of next year, then that will be another thirty or more, and then next year and the next; if we can only staunch the bleeding and go on with only … only an ordinary level of losses, then our strength will be regained, and more, in no time at all. If we can staunch the bleeding, keep our losses down.”

“Newly-graduated huntsmen,” Lionheart pointed out. “Unseasoned.”

“I know, but huntsmen nonetheless,” Terri-Belle replied. “We need time, Professor. Time will heal all our wounds.”

“If there are no more losses,” Lionheart murmured.

“I know,” Terri-Belle said. “But I have hope. By keeping all information to myself—”

“You cannot go on like that, my lady.”

“I don’t mean to go on forever, only long enough to pick up our numbers and to … this villain will be dealt with, I swear to you. I don’t know exactly how just yet, but he will be dealt with.” Once more, Terri-Belle fell temporarily silent. “In the meantime, I would be grateful if you would ask the professors here to consider taking on some missions. After all, the students are away or not in classes, and to be frank, at present, we have need of them.”

“Oh … of course,” Lionheart said, his voice sounding dull even to his ears. “I will … I can’t make them, of course, but I will speak to them.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Terri-Belle said. She got up off his desk, rising smoothly to her feet. “I appreciate it.”

Lionheart swallowed again. It still left a bitter aftertaste. “You are too kind, my lady.”

Terri-Belle did not acknowledge that, but strode for the door of his office, passing between the two bookshelves as she reached out for the brass doorhandle.

The door was opened from the other side to reveal Arthur Watts standing there.

Lionheart struggled to restrain a choking sound from rising up out of his throat. He could feel his heart pounding more rapidly in his chest, and not just because Watts was here, although that would have been bad enough, but Watts was here now? Now, of all times? And Lady Terri-Belle had seen him? Yes, she didn’t know who he was, and she certainly didn’t know what he was, but that wasn’t the point! The point was that he worked very hard to make sure that no one knew about his associations with any of Salem’s servants, and now, Watts had just walked through the door.

This life was going to be the death of him. It was all he could do not to start hyperventilating.

Watts smiled. “Forgive me, I didn’t realise that Leo had company.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Terri-Belle said. “I was just leaving.”

“I see,” Watts said, stepping aside. “Then by all means, go ahead.”

Terri-Belle glanced over her shoulder. “Professor.”

“My lady,” Lionheart murmured feebly.

Terri-Belle walked away, shooting Watts a curious glance as he did so.

The smile remained on Watts face even after she had left, and he had closed the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” Lionheart demanded. “You can’t just drop in here unannounced!”

“How very nice to see you too, Leo,” Watts replied, his voice as smooth as ever. The smile remained in place, gleaming beneath his moustache. It put Lionheart very much in mind of a shark. “You know, anyone listening would think that you weren’t pleased to see me. They might think that you had something to hide.”

Lionheart forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. “What do you want, Arthur?”

Watts chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Lionheart demanded.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Watts said, as he slunk over to the sofa on the left-hand side of the office. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other as he spread out his arms. “You know, Tyrian hasn’t heard anything from you lately about the assignments of any Mistralian huntsmen. I think he might be getting a little bored.”

“Well then, perhaps he shouldn’t have…” Lionheart trailed off. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Terri-Belle live. No. No, he couldn’t say that; it pained him to even think it, for all that it would have made many things easier.

He could still remember when Terri-Belle had come to Haven, for all that it was eleven years ago. She had been tall and muscular even then, but far less certain of herself. She had worn high heels and inexpertly applied make-up as though she feared that she were insufficiently feminine. She had grown out of it, and into herself, a strong woman and a leader. For all that she esteemed him little, nevertheless, he did not have it in him to wish her dead.

“Lady Terri-Belle has taken control of all huntsman operations,” he said quietly. “Only she knows what missions have been assigned to which huntsmen.”

“I see,” Watts said. “Can you find out?”

“No.”

“Have you tried?”

“No.”

“Then make the effort,” Watts insisted. “I’m sure that she’ll confide in—”

“No!” Lionheart cried, planting his hands upon his desk as he rose to his feet. “I won’t do it, I’m done! I won’t help you kill anyone else!”

Watts stared at him, his eyes inscrutable, his whole face expressionless. “I see the lion has found his courage,” he observed. “A little late, perhaps, for those who are already dead, but … what’s the expression? 'Better late than never'?” He paused for a moment. “Of course, some might say that if you are unwilling to be of assistance, then you are of no more use to us.”

A shudder ran down Lionheart’s body. He was taller than Watts, and broader in the shoulders, but it was not the Atlesian scientist sitting in his office who frightened him. It was not even those he cavorted with like Cinder Fall, as much as he found the psychotic girl intimidating.

No, it was she whom they all served that put the fear in him, the fear that had driven him to this point.

“You … you don’t care about a few Mistralian huntsmen,” he managed to force out. “You still need me to get the Relic.”

“We need the Spring Maiden,” Watts pointed out.

“To open the vault,” Lionheart replied. “I’m the one who knows how to get there in the first place.”

Watts was silent for a moment. “Tell me something, Leo: when you started down this path, did you really believe that no one else was going to have to bleed in order to save your skin?”

Lionheart looked down at his desk. “What … what do you want?” he asked, his voice a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to prepare the next act in the drama,” Watts said. “The curtain is about to fall on Beacon, and when it does … Haven will be next. Tell me, Leo, who in your opinion holds power in this city?”

Lionheart looked up at him. “The Steward—”

“Military power,” Watts said. “Forgive me, I should have specified.”

“Are you worried about threats?”

“Not particularly,” Watts replied blithely. “I’m more interested in making friends.”

“You’re going to recruit?” Lionheart hissed. “But if it gets out—”

“I’m not going to be indiscreet, obviously,” Watts said, holding up one hand. “I’m not looking for another Cinder — one of them was quite bad enough. No, what I’m looking for…”

Lionheart waited. “Yes?”

“I’m not sure you need to know,” Watts declared. “All I need from you are names. Names of those who have swords and spears at their disposal. The rest, I can work out for myself.”

“What are you going to do to them?”

“Talk to them,” Watts said, “that’s all. Every name you give me will end the day as alive and well as they began it. Who knows? They may end the day advantaged. Do sit down, Leo; you look ridiculous standing like that.”

Lionheart sank back down into his chair, his eyes remaining fixed on Watts. “Forces?” he asked.

“Quite so,” Watts agreed.

Lionheart closed his eyes for a moment. “Lady Terri-Belle commands the Imperial Guard,” he said. “Meanwhile, at her recommendation, Mistral has begun to raise the beginnings of an army.”

Lionheart opened his eyes in time to see Watts’ eyebrows raise. “'An army'?” he said. “That’s a development.”

“After the Breach, it was decided that there was a need for Mistral to have its own security,” Lionheart murmured. “More security than could be provided by a small number of huntsmen: soldiers, androids—”

“'Androids'?” Watts repeated. “Did you say androids?”

“Bought from Atlas, yes.”

Watts smiled. “And tell me, who leads this army?”

“Philippa Yeoh is Polemarch of the First Cohort,” Lionheart said. “Under the patronage of Lady Ming.”

“I see,” Watts said. “Anyone else that I should know about?”

“The head of Rutulian Security,” Lionheart said with a nod of his head. “Lord Rutulus.”

Terri-Belle, her guard discarded for the moment, rubbed her brow with one hand.

She was sitting in her makeshift office, examining the latest of a stack of papers sitting on her desk.

Who would have thought that there were this many caravans leaving the city? There seemed to be at least one every day, and they all wanted a huntsman to protect them.

She thought that perhaps she should have known how many. She wondered if her father knew. If he did, she wasn’t going to reveal to him that she didn’t by asking him.

So many caravans. So many jobs to be done. There were more requests for huntsmen than there were huntsmen to do them, even if she included all of her guards — which she would not; she needed someone to stay and defend Mistral, after all. It was very tempting to sit here and prioritise all the requests that came in, decide for herself which were important and which were not, which were an acceptable use of resources and which were not, decide which she would offer to huntsmen looking for work and which she would quietly drop in the trash. But that would be an exercise of her powers too far: she was not the commander of all of Mistral’s huntsmen; she was only facilitating their operations. The huntsmen of Mistral were still free agents, free to take — through her — whatever jobs they wanted.

There was a line, and she wasn’t going to cross it.

However much she might want to.

A knock on the door made Terri-Belle look up. Standing in the doorway was the man whom she had met coming in to see Lionheart just as she had been leaving. He was a tall, lean man, with black hair turning grey at the tips and a fine walrus moustache overshadowing his upper lip. He wore a grey suit with a yellow shirt, and a black tie hanging loosely from around his neck.

Terri-Belle frowned slightly. “Can I help you?”

“That remains to be seen,” the man said, his voice lugubrious as he breezed into her office. “I do have the honour of addressing the Lady Terri-Belle, Captain of the Imperial Guard of Mistral and Warden of the White Tower, do I not?”

“You do,” Terri-Belle said. “And who do I have the honour of addressing, sir? And how did you get in here?”

“My name is Watts,” he replied. “Doctor Arthur Watts, at your service.” He bowed to her, one hand behind his back, the other spread out at his side. “I’ve been authorised to speak with you by the Mistralian ambassador to Vale; I have a letter of recommendation—” He began to reach into his pocket.

“Fine, fine,” Terri-Belle said. She didn’t need to see it, not when he must have shown it to at least one guard just to get inside the palace. “You’re from Vale, then?”

“From Atlas, originally,” clarified Doctor Watts.

Terri-Belle grunted. “Well, as much as I would like to say that it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am rather busy at the moment, so why don’t we cut to what, exactly, I can do for you?”

Doctor Watts clasped his hands behind his back. “What do you want, my lady?”

Terri-Belle blinked. “What do I want?”

Doctor Watts smiled. “Precisely.”

Terri-Belle’s brow furrowed. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A very straightforward one, I should have thought,” observed Doctor Watts.

“What do I want? ‘What do I want,’ what?” Terri-Belle demanded. “What do I want for dinner?”

“What do you want?” Doctor Watts repeated.

Terri-Belle stared flatly at him. “You came all the way from Vale to ask me that? I think you wasted a trip.”

“Is it so difficult a question to answer?”

“Shining Light!” Terri-Belle yelled.

Her sister slunk into the room, her hips swaying a little as she walked. “Yes, sister? Or should I call you captain, since we are in company?”

Terri-Belle ignored that, her attention remaining fixed upon Doctor Watts. “Supposing that what I want is for you to go with my sister here and leave the premises, what then?”

“Then I will depart, of course,” Doctor Watts replied smoothly. “If that is what you want.”

“What I want, what I want, yes! Yes, that is what I want: I want you to get out and leave me in peace,” Terri-Belle snapped. “Leave me to my work.” She looked down at said work: to the caravan, to the one caravan amongst many caravans seeking protection. One caravan amongst many; one piece of paper amongst many; amongst so, so many. So many tasks and so few huntsmen to carry them out.

“Wait,” she said, glancing up to see both Doctor Watts and Shining Light stopped by the door. They both turned to look at her.

A sigh fell heavily from Terri-Belle’s mouth; she was almost surprised it did not thud as it hit the floor.

“You want to know what I want?” Terri-Belle murmured.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Doctor Watts pointed out.

Terri-Belle rose to her feet. “My destiny was laid out for me the moment I was born. I am my father’s eldest daughter and his heir. While he lives, I command the Imperial Guard and serve him as Warden of the White Tower, and when he is dead, then … then I shall take his place upon the Steward’s Chair and rule Mistral as he did, and his father before him. What I want … what I want, Doctor, is for Mistral to be at peace as it was in the days of my father’s youth; what I want is for these dark clouds that gather round our house to be dispelled by the sun of a brighter day; what I want is to call upon the gods of my ancestors to give me back my huntsmen and for my prayer to be answered.”

She paused for a moment, drawing in a breath. “There is … I want my city to be safe. I want my kingdom to be safe. I want my huntsmen to be free to go about their business without … with only an ordinary level of caution, instead of … I want Mistral to be safe and protected and at peace again.”

Doctor Watts was silent for a moment. “I see,” he murmured. “Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle. Now, I believe this charming young lady was going to show me out.”

“Mmm,” Terri-Belle murmured. She had said more than she meant to, the words pouring out of her like a river in spate; a part of her felt as though she had said more than she ought to have done. But they were words, that was all. Words that compromised nothing, that revealed no secrets, words that would not have surprised anyone who knew her well.

Words, that was all, and signifying nothing.

She didn’t bother to watch them go; rather, she sat down and returned her attention to her paperwork.

She had so much work to do.

Not the one, Watts thought, as he walked side by side with Lady Shining Light towards the exit from the palace. Not the one indeed. Lady Terri-Belle was too bound by duty by far to be of any use to them. Someone like her could not be so easily manipulated into serving their ends.

“You are a strange man,” Shining Light observed.

Watts looked at her. She was certainly prettier than her elder sister, even if it made him an old goat to think so, and she seemed to know it too, or at least, she wore her hair and made up her face so as to draw attention to it. She walked with a sway to her hips, not a martial gait but rather, resembling the strut of a model. And yet, the sword at her hip was real enough, and so was the armour that she was presently wearing.

“How so, my lady?” he asked.

“To come into the palace of the stewards, into the presence of the Warden of the White Tower, and ask … what she wanted?”

“Yes,” Watts replied. “That is what I asked precisely: what do you want?”

Shining Light snorted. “Is that not strange behaviour where you come from, Mister—?”

“Doctor,” he corrected her. “Doctor Arthur Watts, at your service.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Doctor,” she murmured. “Is this some experiment? Will you publish a paper on the effects of inane questions upon Mistralian nobles? Or is it warriors that concern you?”

“You think that being asked what you want is inane?” Watts deflected.

“Is it not?” Shining Light responded. “Children are asked what they want; adults are expected to grow out of desire.”

Doctor Watts chuckled. “Are you sure that you are not the strange one, Lady Shining Light? Where I come from, adults grow up to call desire ambition.”

“'Ambition'?” Shining Light asked. “Do you call what my sister had to say 'ambition'?”

Watts did not reply to her; rather, he said, “And what if I were to ask you what you want, Lady Shining Light? Would you tell me that you want for nothing, that you have grown out of desire, that you are perfectly content with your station in life?”

Shining Light faltered in her steps, coming to an abrupt halt. “You would use me in your study, Doctor?”

“You are a noble, are you not?” Watts pointed out. “And a warrior.”

Shining Light smiled. “When I was a girl, I used to run up and down these corridors pretending to be someone else. I was a witch, I was a princess, I was an empress.”

“Many children do such things, albeit in less august settings,” Watts observed.

“And then we grow up and realise that we will never be anything but ourselves, disappointing though that may be,” Shining Light said.

Watts felt glad that his moustache hid the smile he could feel growing on his face. “What is it that you want, Lady Shining Light?”

“My sister spoke true: her destiny was set the moment she was born,” Shining Light declared. “Because she was born first, the eldest daughter. She will inherit our father’s seat, and his rule, and all his power, and all the lands and incomes of the House of Thrax besides. While I, a younger sister, may scrape and serve and spend my life at her command and bidding … or be cast out into wretched penury.”

Or find something else to do with your life, Watts thought. Heavens forfend, you could get a job and work for a living. He was no stranger to thwarted ambition, but was there anything more pathetic than frustrated entitlement?

Of course, it was precisely because it was pathetic that it could be useful.

“I would not be a younger sister all my days,” Shining Light declared. “Take you my meaning or not, Doctor, I will say no more but that … that is what I want.”

If Watts had written a paper, it would have been about the willingness of people to spill their hearts' desires to the first person willing to listen to them without judgement or apparent consequence.

It was really rather sad, although wondering what he might have said in this position kept his pity from crossing the line into scorn.

I would have gone off on a rant about James and how weak and short-sighted he was, most likely.

“Fear not, my lady,” he assured her. “I think you’ve said quite enough, thank you.”

Philippa Yeoh, who possessed — as of very, very recently — the rank of Polemarch in the very, very new Grand Army of Mistral, stood in the Campus Martius and watched her troops drill.

The Campus Martius was one of the oldest public spaces in the city; in days of old, it had been, as the name suggested, where the armies of Mistral were mustered for war, where the nobles would review their retinues, where the levies of the people were inducted into the ranks, where the departing soldiers would pledge their loyalty to Mistral and the Emperor, where the crowds would gather to farewell their parents, children, spouses, and sweethearts, sending them off to war with eager hearts … well, sometimes. It was said that during the Great War, as new regiment after new regiment had formed up on the Campus Martius before departing to face the foe, the atmosphere amongst those watching them go had become progressively more funereal, until by the time the last levies set out, there had been almost as many tears for their going as there had been when the news arrived of the defeat at the Battle of Four Sovereigns.

There were no tears today, but there were not many cheers either; mostly, she and her soldiers appeared to be attracting a small degree of curiosity from those who had gathered around the edge of the Campus to watch the parading of the first seed of what would, Yeoh hoped, become a mighty tree, tall and broad and strong enough to shelter all of Mistral under its eaves.

The Campus Martius was a broad expanse, broader than there was flat ground on the slopes of Mistral, and so, a great step had been built in ancient times, extending outwards into the air, casting a shadow over the houses down below. As befitted a square for military assembly, it was a barren space, with nothing in the way of decoration or ornament that would obstruct the massing or the movement of the soldiery, although all around the edges of the square fluttered the banners of Mistral, rippling upon the wind.

It was said that, in the days of Mistral’s greatness, ten thousand men could have paraded in this square.

There were not ten thousand men here now. For that reason, the Campus Martius looked a little empty as her four platoons marched and wheeled. But they were a seed. A first seed. Perhaps nothing more than a seedling. Yet they would grow. There would be more. Many more, if this first experiment proved successful.

Her commission was for a cohort of a thousand men. So far, she had one hundred and twenty, in four platoons of thirty each. But there would be more. Every day, there were more, if only drawn up from the lower slopes by the prospect of steady wages and three meals a day. In time, each platoon would become a company, and in the fullness of time, as the establishment of the army expanded, each company would become a regiment in its own right.

That was why she had named them, instead of giving them numbers. Names were important, names were what bred cohesion in the ranks, esprit de corps, or why were teams of huntsmen given names to call their own, to bear like banners into battle and tournament? For that matter, why did the Valish Defence Forces, enfeebled as they were, retain the names of units which had won great honour in the Great War if not because names mattered?

Conversely, Yeoh had always felt it was an error on the part of the Atlesians to give their infantry units mere numbers, signifying little, if anything at all.

In expectation of her platoons growing to be more than that, she had given them names. There was no First Platoon here; rather, there were the Sacred Band, the Skiritae, the Hetairoi, and the Epilektoi. Yes, she had reached into the past to pluck the names of elite units from Mistral’s rich and illustrious history, for what was the point of having a rich and illustrious history if you couldn’t pluck things from it for the benefit of the present?

These were the first units that Mistral had raised since the fall of Ares Claudandus; they had the right to call themselves the new elite and hold their heads up high above the others.

For the army as a whole, she thought the name ‘Epigoni’ might suit the new soldiery of the kingdom. It meant ‘inheritors’ in the ancient tongue, for these men and women who took up the call and put on the uniform of Mistral would inherit the will of those who had come before them long ago.

Just as she had inherited the will of those who had commanded Mistral’s armies in times past.

She hoped that she would be remembered as one of the better ones.

The epigoni of Mistral were dressed in green; these would not be the final uniforms — those would come later; the designs were still being finalised and would require the approval of the Council — but dress was as important as a name, if not moreso, to the cohesion of a unit. No soldier could take pride in himself dressed in the same clothes he had worn to enlist in. So she had dipped into her own pocket — and Lady Ming, more significantly, had dipped into hers — to kit her soldiers in green green jackets and trousers, and sturdy black boots. Lady Ming had been equally as generous when it came to the MARS-pattern rifles that each soldier carried at their shoulder. At some point, hopefully soon, the Council would release the funds to begin paying for weapons — and more than simple rifles — but again, it was important for morale that the troops be armed immediately. They might be inheritors, but they were also the start of something new, and if their first steps faltered, then it might inform the whole rest of what Yeoh hoped would be a long and illustrious history.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man approaching her across the Campus. He was tall, and although he did not possess a martial bearing, he did possess a very fine military moustache. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie that was improperly tied in a rather slovenly fashion. He approached her without a trace of uncertainty, as though there were no reason in the world why he should not disturb her.

"Polemarch Yeoh, I presume," he said, his voice a lugubrious drawl.

Yeoh's hand drifted to the hilt of the sword she wore at her hip. "You have the advantage of me, sir."

He smiled. "My name is Watts. Doctor Arthur Watts, at your service." He turned to watch her soldiers, saying nothing as he gazed at them. "Now, this is a sight not seen in Mistral for many years."

"A sight not seen in Mistral for too long," Yeoh declared. "We have lived in fear of Ares Claudandus' ghost for long enough."

Watts chuckled. "Something that is perhaps easier for the woman who will command the army to say than for those who will have to live with the concern of what you might do with it."

Yeoh glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Is anyone so foolish as to imagine that I could overthrow the Council with these green boys and girls?"

"They will not be green forever," Watts observed. "Where did you find the NCOs, may I ask?"

Yeoh smiled. "In my younger days, I was a soldier of fortune in Vacuo; when the Steward agreed to appoint me to command these nascent forces, I reached out to a few old friends for their assistance."

"From mercenary to government dog," Watts murmured. "Usually, it's the other way around."

"I prefer not to think of myself as a mercenary," Yeoh said softly.

He chuckled. "Because 'soldier of fortune' makes putting down the desert tribes on behalf of Shade sound more romantic, Polemarch?"

"If we hadn't done it, then Atlas would have," Yeoh replied. "Vacuans claim to have been exploited by the other kingdoms, but if that is so, then they have only themselves to blame; a kingdom that is not a kingdom, a patchwork of tribes and families without settlements, homes, or government, such an anachronism cries out for exploitation. If they would be seen as equals to the other kingdoms, then they must make of themselves a true kingdom, whether it runs contrary to their inclinations or not."

"And Mistral?" Watts asked.

Yeoh was silent for a moment. "In a way, cruel though it may make me sound, I am glad of the Breach in Vale," she said. "I feared that we were on our way to becoming a second Vacuo, a kingdom in name only, a patchwork of disparate lands devoid of strong authority. But now, at last, our spirit reawakens."

"Because you have an army?" Watts asked. "Will your spirit reawaken to put down all those who might wish to do things differently?"

"I believe that those who sometimes think or talk of leaving, as those who dreamt of Oniyuri once did, might do far better to stay and fight for their beliefs as part of a strong and prosperous Mistral," Yeoh replied. "But I do not intend nor wish to use this army I am building against my own people."

"Then what do you want to do with it?" Watts asked. "What do you want, Polemarch Yeoh?"

"I want ten thousand men at my command and ships to carry them into battle," Yeoh replied glibly.

Watts chuckled. "Is that all?"

Yeoh's eyebrows rose. "All the men I have in arms you see before you, Doctor. Is ten thousand not enough to wish for?"

"But for what do you want ten thousand men?" Watts pressed. "What would you do with them, if you had them?"

Yeoh hesitated for a moment. "What do you think of 'Epigoni' as a name, Doctor?"

"'Inheritors,'" Watts mused. "Rather depends on what it is a name for."

"These soldiers," Yeoh said. "My soldiers. Mistral's soldiers. The inheritors of a tradition of valour stretching back generations. Why should Atlas, a land of ice and snow and tinker's toys, stand as the protectors of the world? We are the kingdom of heroes, the kingdom of warriors, the kingdom whose history resounds with the clash of arms. If I had all that I would desire, I would have an army large enough and strong enough not only to protect Mistral from all dangers but also to stride out into the world and say to Atlas 'you may go home now, and warm yourselves by the fire; the real heroes have returned.'"

"A grand ambition indeed," Watts murmured. "Thank you, Polemarch, for speaking to me; I won't take up any more of your time."

Lady Ming wore a gown as red as blood; it trailed behind her on the polished floor of the drawing room as she walked across it. "Would you care for any refreshment, Doctor?"

"No, thank you, my lady," Watts replied. "I still have errands to run after our meeting ends; I cannot delay."

"As you wish," Lady Ming replied. She gestured to the maid — a dog faunus; she couldn't recall the girl's name — and said, "Leave us."

The maid curtsied silently, and equally silently departed from the room.

Lady Ming's drawing room was spacious and airy; it opened directly out onto the rock garden at the back of the house, and the sliding door was slightly ajar to allow a draught to come in from outside — the estate was sufficiently large, and the walls surrounding it sufficiently high and thick, that she had no fear of being overheard. Of furniture, there was very little: a low table, devoid of chairs, and calligraphy scrolls hanging from the walls. It was her hobby, and she liked to be able to keep track of her progress.

Lady Ming sat down on the floor and observed her visitor. He was much as Philippa had described him over the scroll: well-dressed but not smartly, his clothes of good quality but not worn well. She could not help but feel there was a little disrespect in his seeming inability to do up his tie. Still, he had a letter of introduction from the ambassador to Vale, and Lady Ming had known Murakami for some years now, if only as acquaintances. She saw no reason to deny the Atlesian doctor an audience.

"Philippa told me that she confessed her ambitions to you," she observed. "I was surprised that she had been so open with a man she just met."

"I'm a good listener, my lady, if I say so myself," Doctor Watts replied. "People confide in me." He smiled. "Perhaps I just have one of those faces."

"Hmm," Lady Ming murmured. "I do not know what, if any, official connections you have to the Atlesian state—"

"None at all, my lady; I am no spy," Watts assured her. "I am a free agent, nothing more."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lady Ming murmured. "I would hate for Atlas to mistake Philippa's flights of fancy for the aims of the Mistralian Council."

"But you are heavily involved in the creation of this new Mistralian army, are you not?" Watts asked.

"I am Philippa's patron, and honoured to be so," Lady Ming acknowledged. "She has no better friend on the Council than I. In the absence of Council funding, I have personally stepped in with lien for the purchase of weapons and equipment. Philippa is a good soldier; in a kingdom where only the very old now recall when we last had an army, it is a stroke of the greatest fortune to find an experienced soldier of Mistralian origin, rather than having to go appeal to Atlas for someone to school us in modern warfare."

"I can see how that would be humiliating for you," Watts murmured.

"Indeed," Lady Ming muttered. "As I say, we are fortunate that the matter did not arise and that we had in Mistral a native commander to take on the post. Philippa is, besides, a friend. But she is also a romantic. You know she was a mercenary?"

"I thought she preferred 'soldier of fortune'?"

Lady Ming snorted. "Indeed. A romantic, as I said. On a practical level, she is the best person I could imagine to build an army for this kingdom out of labourers and slum dwellers plucked from the lower slopes. But I have no interest in her flights of fancy. I do not want an army that can take over Atlas responsibilities. If Atlas wishes to continue spending vast sums of lien defending kingdoms other than its own, then it is welcome to do so."

Watts clasped his hands behind his back. "Then what do you want, my lady?"

Lady Ming rested her hands upon the table. "It is the Breach in Vale that has brought us to this point," she said, "but in truth, we should have taken this step months ago."

"Yes, I understand there were some troubles with the grimm earlier this year," Watts murmured.

"And during that time, the people began to wonder at the usefulness of a Council that seemed unable to guarantee the safety of the kingdom and those who live in it," Lady Ming added. "We are an old kingdom, Doctor, but since the Great War, the foundations of our state have proven less durable than we would like, or would like to suggest. When the war was lost, the Imperial princess was murdered by an angry mob, and for all the affection now held by the common people for their Princess Without a Crown, at the time, nobody mourned to see the House of Nikos toppled from power. The Faunus War was fought by a kingdom that had not decided how, precisely, to govern itself; the houses of Thrax and Rutulus fought each other as much as they fought the faunus, if not more, and for a while, the faunus themselves took power. It was only the foolishness of Claudandus and the treachery of Crixus that enabled us to liberate ourselves and reestablish proper order. More recently, it was only the actions of a single faunus, born of no family, a cuckoo in the nest of a great house, that turned back a tide of criminality from engulfing our society. We have danced on the edge too many times. What I want, Doctor, is to firm up the foundations of our governance, to make concrete our social order and the place within it of the best. What I want is to proof our system against any more shocks such as we have suffered. An army, such as we are raising now, will silence all of those who say we are not capable of action—"

"And give yourself an armed force to use against those who would take your power away."

Lady Ming looked him in the eye. "Precisely, Doctor."

"Thank you, my lady," Watts said, bowing his head. "I think that I've heard all that I needed to."

Juturna was browsing through the latest copy of Mistral Musical Express. Apparently, Sapphire Shores was going to re-record all of her old songs since she couldn't get the rights back to the originals. Huh. She wasn't Juturna's favourite artist of the moment, but good for her.

She looked up at the sound of a tap on the living room door.

"Sorry to disturb you, m'lady," Opis said, "but there's a guy at the gate."

"'A guy'?" Juturna asked. "What kind of a guy?"

"A doctor, according to him," Opis replied. "He's asking to see you."

Juturna blinked her big blue eyes. "He's asking to see me?" she asked. That was … weird. Nobody wanted to see her. Nobody travelled up to the House of Rutulus in order to speak to Juturna. It just … it wasn't something that happened. "Seriously?"

"Well, he did want to see my lord," Opis admitted. "But when I told him my lord wasn't here, he asked to see you instead."

"What about?"

"He won't say; says that he wants to talk to you," Opis said.

Juturna frowned. Why would anyone want to come and see her?

Okay, that sounded kind of sad when she thought about it that way, like she didn't have any friends.

Well … shut up. It wasn't that she didn't get on with people — she was capable of having all sorts of fun with all kinds of different people — she just didn't … care about them that much. And they knew it. Which was why people only really saw her at parties.

Okay, it still sounded kind of sad and pathetic; maybe that was why Turnus wanted her to Do Something.

Which she could do right now! She could see this guy! Maybe he even had a job for Rutulian Security, and Juturna could set it all up, and when Turnus got home, she'd show him.

She crossed her legs underneath her on the sofa. "Well, if he wants to talk to me, then show him in."

"Are you sure, m'lady?"

"Yeah!" Juturna declared. "It'll be fine. It'll be fun. Come on, show him in; what's the worst that could happen?"

"As you wish, m'lady," Opis said, bowing as she stepped backwards, before turning and leaving. Juturna could hear the footsteps of her steel-toed boots upon the wooden floor as she walked down the corridor.

Juturna glanced at the box of expensive chocolates. Most of them had been eaten by now, which was kind of a pity but at the same time meant that she didn't feel guilty about the fact that she didn't really want to share. She picked up a compact from the little table in front of her and checked her face. Hair was still straight, and you could see all the blue streaks really well, eyeshadow still fine … she applied a little more blush to her cheeks. Perfect.

Opis returned, leading a stork of a dude — okay, he probably wasn't quite as tall as Turnus, but he might be taller than Camilla by a little bit, and either way, he was still way taller than her — who looked really thin at the same time, like a rake. He had a moustache like the one Dad used to have, and his hair was even short and dark in the same way.

Juturna doubted that Dad could have ever got that thin though, if he'd lived.

He probably would have worn his tie like that though, just because he could.

Honestly, Juturna kind of liked the slightly scruffy look; Turnus wouldn't have liked it, but Juturna appreciated the guts it took to show up to a house like this dressed like that.

"Hey there," she said. "Grab a seat."

"Thank you," he murmured, but then stopped after a couple of steps when it became clear that Opis, who had settled in by the door, had no intention of leaving the room.

"I was hoping that we might talk in private," he said softly.

"Why?" Opis asked, folding her arms.

The visitor glanced at Juturna. Juturna crossed her arms behind her head. "Everyone here is very protective," she explained.

The visitor chuckled. "I see. Very well then, I suppose it doesn't really matter." He grabbed a chair and moved it across the floor until he was sitting opposite Juturna. "My name is Watts," he said. "Doctor Arthur Watts."

Juturna smiled. "Rutulus," she said. "Lady Juturna Rutulus."

Doctor Watts laughed lightly. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Not that much of a pleasure; you were hoping to see my brother, weren't you?" Juturna asked.

Doctor Watts nodded. "It's true, I was hoping to meet with Lord Rutulus, but I understand that he isn't here."

"He's on a job," Juturna said. "Is that why you're here, you want to hire Rutulian Security?"

"No, I don't need private security," Doctor Watts replied. "So, do you work for your older brother?"

Juturna let out a little laugh. "No," she said. "No, I … I don't work for Turnus, I … I live off him, I guess you could say. He takes care of me."

"I see," said Doctor Watts. "That must be nice."

"You'd think," Juturna replied. "I mean, it is nice. I never have to worry about not having money. Or not having things. I have my own credit card, and Turnus never bothers to check what I'm using it to buy. I don't have anything to complain about, believe me."

Doctor Watts smiled genially. "'But'?"

"But, Turnus sometimes talks like he wants me to get a job," Juturna said. "Which would be … not fine exactly, but I know that if I … let's say I got a job as a bartender, I just know that every night, there would be Camilla or Ufens or even Turnus himself, ready to kill anyone who made a pass at me. And I mean that literally, bro's got a temper on him sometimes, and Camilla … Camilla when she's angry is like ice: cold, deadly, and absolutely unstoppable."

"Do they ever get angry at you?"

"No," Juturna said immediately. "No, no no no, never they … never." She paused, clasping her hands together in her lap. She glanced down at them. "I killed my mom," she said quietly. She smiled. "Not in a child psycho horror movie way, before you get scared, more like a … I took too much out of her, and she didn't get better kind of way."

Doctor Watts nodded. "As a doctor, I'm not unfamiliar with what you describe. It's not as common as it used to be, but still far from unheard of, even in these times, with all the medical enhancements at our disposal."

"Turnus has never blamed me for it," Juturna said. "Not once. Not in any way. He pretends like he doesn't even miss Mom; he doesn't even have her picture in the house because he doesn't want me to feel guilty or to think that he's trying to make me feel guilty. And Camilla … Camilla used to sleep in front of my door when I was a kid to protect me from the monsters. They would never hurt me. They would … I think they'd die for me, which is actually kind of scary when you think about it."

"How so?" asked Doctor Watts.

Because I don't know if I deserve it, Juturna thought. In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't. "Um … it doesn't matter," Juturna said. "Sorry, I … what was it you wanted again?"

Doctor Watts leaned back in his chair. "I must say, my lady, your life sounds quite idyllic."

Juturna snorted. "You'd think."

Doctor Watts' brow furrowed. "Is it not so?"

Juturna spread her arms out across the back of the settee. "Look at us, Doc," she said. "We're rich, we're aristocratic, and we love each other. I even get on with Turnus' security people, like Opis over there." She waved to Opis, who at times had looked as though she'd rather have taken Doctor Watts up on his offer to leave the room. "Sorry, I'll stop embarrassing you in a second," Juturna promised. "Wouldn't you think, Doc, that that was enough for a happy family?"

Doctor Watts hesitated for a moment. "I might, yes," he said.

"Aha, well," Juturna said. "Turnus isn't happy. He's not miserable, but he's not happy. I don't think Camilla's happy either, although she doesn't let on as easily as Turnus does. All these years, she doesn't think of herself as part of our family, and she doesn't feel like she can make a fuss."

"And you?" prompted Doctor Watts.

"I want them to be happy," Juturna said. "That is what I want, that is the only thing I want; I want my brother and my best friend to be happy. I want them to get what they want, I want them to get what they need, I want them to get what they deserve, I want … I want them to be happy. Is that so wrong? Is that so strange or odd in any way?"

"Not at all," Doctor Watts replied. "Although, of course, the question then becomes: what do they want?"

Juturna laughed. "Well, there, it gets tricky," she admitted. She uncrossed her legs and got up. Doctor Watts made to rise as well, but Juturna motioned for him to keep his seat. She began to pace up and down the living room, swinging her arms back and forth as she walked. “My brother wants to rule this kingdom.”

Doctor Watts leaned forwards. “Really?”

Juturna nodded. “Because he’s smarter than I am, or maybe because he cares more than I do, or maybe both, but he can see … he can see all the problems, you know? He can see what’s going wrong, he can see what isn’t working, he can see it all so clearly, I know it! Turnus and Camilla are, like, the best people I know. They have the best of the old ways, but they can see the future as well. With them in charge … Mistral would be so lucky to have them in charge. If Turnus ruled Mistral, with Camilla by his side, then Mistral … Mistral would be like they say it was in the old days, except better, and with no slavery. And then … and then … and I don’t know what he’d do, because he doesn’t talk about it too much. Because he doesn’t think it will happen.”

“He is not willing to try and make it happen?” asked Doctor Watts.

“How?” Juturna asked. “There is no way. There’s no way that he can make it happen, and there’s no way for me to make it happen.”

“And if there was?”

“'If there was'?” Juturna repeated. “If there was, then there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to make them happy. I would … I would do anything. Anything and everything to make them happy. But there’s nothing I can do; I don’t have that kind of power.”

For a second there, it almost seemed as though Doctor Watts smiled. “Thank you, my lady,” he said. “This has all been … most enlightening.”

Juturna frowned. “Wait, but we haven’t even talked about why you—”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Doctor Watts assured her. “I’ve already got everything I need.”

In battle, Turnus favoured Atlesian attire. He was dressed in what was, basically, the uniform of an Atlesian infantryman of a grenadier company, complete with red stripes upon his thick white shoulder pauldrons. His armour was otherwise grey-white above the belly, and black beneath, save for the white synthetic vambraces protecting his shins. Only the studded baldrick that he wore across his chest, the tiger stripe sash wrapped around his waist, and the crested Corinthian helmet currently resting on top of his head, but out of the way of his face, distinguished him from a common soldier of the Kingdom of Atlas.

Some of his men were similarly attired, while others preferred to adopt a more antique appearance, with the armour of the elder days of Mistral, or something else entirely, something that was more unique and idiosyncratic.

Night had fallen, and Turnus' white-grey armour was, at this moment, covered up by a dark cloak as he crouched in the night, a set of binoculars with the night-vision mode enabled raised to his eyes.

It was just as Euryalus had said: one single sentry before the crude wooden palisade.

The fact that their enemy didn’t know that the Rutulians were in the area didn’t make it feel any less insulting to be taken so lightly.

The plan was quite straightforward: Turnus had divided his Rutulians into two groups of equal strength, one under himself and the other under Camilla; his own group was presently waiting out of sight beyond the bandits’ palisade, while Camilla’s group worked its way into position atop the hills on the right flank.

Once they were in position, then Turnus would lead his section in a frontal assault on the bandit camp; Camilla would then follow with an attack of her own into their flank. That would make it even harder for the bandits to rally, and make it more likely that they would break and run.

At which point, he would run them down.

Turnus tapped his earpiece. “Camilla, are you in position?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Turnus turned his binoculars away from the dozy-looking guard to survey the hills that surrounded the camp. He could just make out Camilla, crouched low, leading the way for the others. As a fox faunus, she needed no aids to see in the dark. She glanced his way and waved one hand in a quick gesture to acknowledge him.

A smile crossed Turnus’ face.

“I’ll start the attack imminently.”

“I’ll be ready, my lord,” Camilla replied.

Turnus lowered the binoculars and turned around to face the men behind him. Some of them were hard to see in the dark, mere shadows, vague shapes, but he knew that they were there, just as he knew their names.

“Not long now,” he told them. “Euryalus, do you have him in sight?”

“Give the word, and he’s a dead man, my lord.”

“Nisus, do you have the flares ready?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Pallas, how are you feeling?”

“I’d quite like to get started now, my lord.”

A few hushed, low chuckles rippled amongst the Rutulians.

“As I said, not long now,” Turnus assured him. He waited, counting down the seconds, calculating how long it would take Camilla to array her people. Not long; they all knew what they were doing, and Camilla knew how to marshal them. Ten seconds. Make it fifteen.

“Covers off,” he commanded, and as one, the Rutulians discarded cloaks that had masked armour, pulled the covers off their helmets so that they gleamed in the moonlight once more. It gave them away, but then they were about to do much more to give themselves away than let moonlight glimmer upon metal.

Turnus rose to his feet. With his semblance, he could appear larger or smaller than he really was, could intimidate his enemies with his sheer mass and strength or make them underestimate him with the appearance of frailty and weakness.

Now, he chose to appear a few inches taller than he really was.

“Euryalus,” he barked, “take the shot.”

There was a crack, and Turnus looked into the binoculars quickly to see the sentry hurled backwards into the wooden palisade that guarded the bandit camp.

He let the binoculars fall and slammed his crested helmet down onto his head.

“Nisus!”

Nisus released one flare, and then another, each one exploding like a rocket as a pair of white flares rose, like shooting stars, up into the sky, trailing luminescent smoke behind them, rising high up into the night sky, blazing brighter than the moon above before they began to fall, slowly and lazily, back down to earth.

“Rutulians!” Turnus yelled, brandishing his spear, Furor, above his head. “Forward!”

Turnus charged forward, and his men followed him with a great shout, a war cry as loud as any that ever Eulalia had shouted pouring from their throats as they rushed forwards. Turnus had his double-headed spear gripped in both hands, while at his hip was Eris, the sword given to him by his father when he left for Atlas; Pallas was on his right, A Father’s Blessing gleaming in the light cast by Nisus’ flares; Ufens was on his left, with an axe in one hand, a lever rifle in the other, and a shield slung across his back. There were eighteen of them; did any huntsmen travel in such numbers, fight in such numbers? Eighteen men and women it was his privilege to know, to lead, to fight beside. Eighteen warriors howling as they came.

As they charged, over the din of his own Rutulians, Turnus fancied that he could hear the sounds of alarm in the bandit camp, the sound of men waking from sleep, woken by the sound of the wolves at the door.

Too late. Much too late.

There was a gateway into the palisade, a tall gate of stout wooden posts. Turnus presented his shoulder to it, bellowing yet louder as he quickened his pace. He needed to be the first to reach the gate; he needed to be the first one in. No leader could call themselves such if they did not lead.

Howling and screaming, Turnus struck the wooden gate with his shoulder, striking it hard enough that the stout wooden stakes, each as thick as the trunk of a great tree, shattered in the face of his hideous strength, breaking into splinters as Turnus, feeling only a slight lessening of his aura, burst through into the bandit camp.

The camp was arrayed without discipline, rough tents of red and grey and cyan and brown scattered higgledy-piggledy beside the river bank and under the shelter of the hills, scattered all about with crates of looted supplies, barrels and awnings sheltering more ill-gotten goods. A single great tent, larger than all the rest, perhaps as large as one of the moderately-sized rooms in Turnus’ house, sat at the back of the camp, while a few fires burned in pits between here and there.

Around the fires, and in the camp, stood hard-faced men and women with guns and knives and other such weapons. And more were stumbling out of the tents every moment.

Someone raised a pistol to shoot at him. Turnus twirled Furor before him, deflecting the bullet. He was still twirling his spear in place as he saw a brigand, a red bandana covering one eye, emerging from a tent hard by the gate, holding a rifle in one hand. Turnus fell upon him like an owl pouncing upon a field mouse, driving Furor home into the belly of his opponent. For whatever reason, the man had not activated his aura, and the spear pierced him, sending blood dripping onto the tip and down onto the dust ground that lay between them. He had a surprised expression on his face, as though he were puzzled by his own demise, as the gun dropped from his hand and his body slumped forward.

Turnus twisted Furor and drew the spear out, kicking the dead body back into the tent from which it had emerged. Some of his men had gotten ahead of him, while others had, like Turnus himself, stopped to engage other bandits stumbling out of their tents at the sound of alarm. Some of the bandits were killed, despatched by Rutulian swords or Rutulian bullets, while others threw down any weapons they were holding and put up their hands in surrender.

“Nisus, keep an eye on them,” Turnus commanded, gesturing at the prisoners. He would rather not have taken them, but he could hardly order them massacred once they had surrendered. He would just have to deliver them to the closest form of justice and trust that they would get what they deserved.

“Yes, my lord,” Nisus said, not sounding too happy about it but not arguing against the order either. It made sense to give him the duty; Euryalus was taking position near the entrance to the camp where he could use his long rifle to best effect, and while he could not snipe and watch the prisoners, he could help Nisus if need be.

The bandits who had been sleeping closest to the gateway to their camp either died or surrendered or ran as the howling Rutulians overran their tents, but those who had camped further away, those who had been awake when the attack began, those who had escaped the initial onslaught by fleeing before it, they had more of a chance to organise themselves. They began to form a crude line, thick and bunched up, those with firearms aiming them at the advancing Rutulians.

Then an arrow flew out of the darkness to bury itself in the neck of a man in the front rank. Blood spurted from the wound, and his carbine dropped to the ground with a thud a moment ahead of his body.

More arrows fell, arrows flying like rain from out of the darkness, felling the bandits, scattering those who did not fall, as Camilla led her warriors down the hill and out of the dark.

From her vantage point atop the hillside, Camilla could see the entire bandit camp spread out before her, from the gate to the great tent that surely served as the home of their chieftain.

In some ways, it would have been easier to have foregone the attack and simply rained down arrows on them from up here, but she understood why Turnus had opted for a confrontation; if they shot at them from the heights, they would undoubtedly do damage, but the remaining bandits would flee to regroup elsewhere, and Turnus aimed at nothing less than their destruction.

Camilla’s eyes were fixed upon the great tent. She did not know who resided there, they knew nothing about these bandits, but whoever they were was undoubtedly a figure of strength, for only strength could serve to rule such folk as this.

As the warriors that Turnus had placed under her command gathered around her, waiting for the word, Camilla turned to Mezentius and murmured, “When the attack begins, we will aim for the great tent, but whoever we find there is mine; pass the word.”

Mezentius snorted. “Because you’re the only one who can claim the glory of defeating a great enemy?”

Mezentius had been a friend of old Lord Rutulus, Turnus’ father, but Camilla had never found him a particularly personable man. He was one of the oldest of the Rutulians, his short dark hair turning grey or even white in places, with greying stubble on his cheeks and lines upon his face.

“Because I know I can,” Camilla replied, softly but firmly. “Pass the word.”

Mezentius hesitated for a moment. “Very well,” he agreed, before moving off, crouched, like a crab sidling across the beach, to spread her command.

“You think they’ll be very tough?” Silvia asked.

“I would be surprised if they were not,” Camilla replied. “One doesn’t rise to lead a crew like this without a combination of strength and cruelty.”

“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Silvia said with a grin. “Don’t worry; I’ll leave the glory to you.”

“Hmm,” Camilla murmured. To Lausus, who waited on her right, she murmured, “Lausus, are you prepared?”

Lausus was an old friend of Turnus, although Camilla fancied that he was not so close to him as she herself; his hair was curled and golden, and his face was slender and what some called pretty, especially when combined with his eyes of golden brown. He wore a linothorax cuirass and carried a spear in one hand, with a tower shield slung across his back.

He smiled. “Of course I’m ready. I’m even wearing my lucky tunic; I’m ready for anything.” He pulled the collar of the gold tunic he wore beneath his armour up into view and kissed it.

“I’ve noticed you wear that often outside of battle,” Camilla observed.

“I need a lot of luck, in battle and out of it,” Lausus explained. “Do you think we shall be heroes when this is done?”

“Why?” Camilla asked.

“Something about women,” Silvia muttered.

“I must find a rich wife,” Lausus explained. “And since I am not rich myself, I must look for other advantages, like a reputation as a great hero.”

Camilla snorted, but did not reply. It was good that the Rutulians were in high spirits; it augured well for their success.

As she waited for Turnus to start his attack, Camilla’s crimson, far-seeing eyes scanned the bandit camp for any sign of captives; she could see none. No one was caged, no one seemed to be held against their will. It was possible they were hidden in the tents, but she prayed not.

She prayed that no one suffered as she had once suffered.

She heard the crack of a rifle, and then the rocket-like explosive sounds of two flares going off, before the flares themselves shot into the sky to illuminate the camp for those of the Rutulians that were not faunus, blessed with the ability to see in darkness.

Camilla saw Turnus and his warriors rise up and start their charge, and even those who could not see it heard them as they ran, howling and bellowing like demons. Camilla saw the bandits start in alarm, saw them begin to emerge from their tents — no one from the great tent at the back of the camp, not yet — saw them grab weapons and cry the alarm. Camilla lost sight of Turnus for a moment as he disappeared behind the gate, but then she saw him again as he smashed through the gate, leading his section inside to begin the fighting.

Camilla nocked an arrow to the string of Diana’s Devotion. And as the bandits began to rally from their initial shock, she loosed.

“Now!” she cried, leading her warriors — she would not send them forward and then remain safely on the hilltop herself — down the hillside, loosing arrows as she went. She charged, and the rest charged with her: Mezentius, Lausus, Silvia with the spectral stag that was her semblance glowing in the darkness, all of them rushing headlong down the hill to crash into the brigand ranks like a wave crashing onto shore. The bandits, assailed from out of the dark, attacked from the flank and front, scattered like geese in the face of the Rutulian assault.

All except one.

“You cowards! What are you doing? Stand and fight!”

The one who raged at the fleeing bandits as they ran was a young woman, Camilla’s age at most and smaller besides, with dark hair cut so short that it was clinging to her scalp and revealing the shape of her head. She was dressed in a grey jacket with the sleeves roughly ripped off, and maroon trousers — one leg rolled up almost to the thigh — with black leggings and maroon leg warmers. A thick dark glove concealed one hand, while a black vambrace was strapped to her other wrist. In her hands, she bore a pair of wind and fire wheels: bladed discs, with a section cut out of them to permit the firing of some sort of gun embedded within them. The shape of the discs, and the flourishes added to them near the grip, made them look a little like wings, or like the talons of birds.

She raged at her comrades as they fled, and one or two, she grabbed and tried to force back into the fighting, but they simply shook her off and kept on running as the Rutulians rampaged amongst them, striking down bandit after bandit with sword or spear, or shooting them down like dogs as they ran with gun or arrow.

And so this bandit, growling, decided that since she could not exhort, then she would simply have to lead by example, and plunged head-first into the fray.

She came across Mezentius, who was laughing loudly as he struck down a running brigand; Mezentius had always seemed to enjoy the battle a little too much for Camilla’s taste.

Or perhaps she simply didn’t like the fact that he was honest about it.

The bandit girl leapt for him, and Mezentius turned to meet her with an eager cry, drawing his spear back for a thrust.

He drove his long spear forward. The bandit girl dodged, ducking nimbly beneath his spear and stepping around his shield as he tried to bludgeon her with it. She raised her disc-shaped weapons and fired twice, yellow bolts — Camilla did not think they were bullets — blasting out of the centre of the weapons to strike Mezentius in the side. He cried out in pain, staggering sideways, and as he staggered, the bandit girl leapt upon him, discs sweeping out in wide arcs to carve off slices of his aura as though he were a ham.

Mezentius retreated, bringing up his round shield to guard himself, and with his shield, he fended off two more blasts from the bandit girl’s weapons. She flung one of her discs, which swept through the air in a wide arc to circumvent Mezentius' shield and, before he could react, struck him on the side of the head hard enough to strike off his helm and send him reeling once again. The bandit girl shot him twice with her remaining weapon and charged for him, even as the other returned to her hand, slicing and slashing again and again.

Some of the bandits took heart from her example, although a few well-trained arrows struck down the boldest of them and gave the others cause to think again; they distracted Camilla for a few moments until she heard Mezentius cry out in pain.

She looked to see him on his knees, the bandit girl standing over him, beams of yellow light erupting from her weapon, Mezentius’ aura flickering crimson as it broke.

The bandit girl grinned as she swept back her discs for a slicing stroke.

Lausus slammed into her from the side with a great shout, his shield knocking her off her feet. She rolled away and upright once again as Lausus planted himself between his father and the bandit girl.

The girl growled in irritation.

Camilla nocked one of her dust arrows, one of the special shafts that she husbanded carefully, and loosed it at the girl.

The bandit turned and deflected it with one of her discs; it exploded harmlessly in the air.

But Camilla now had her attention.

“Lausus, Rhaebus, take care of Mezentius!” Camilla commanded. “Leave her to me.”

She kept her eyes fixed upon her enemy, but out of the corner of them, she could see Rhaebus dragging Mezentius away from the fighting, while Lausus guarded both of them, placing himself between them and danger like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

Camilla slung Diana’s Devotion across her back and slowly drew her dust gladius, Valeria Victrix.

“My name,” she said, “is Camilla Volsci. Give me your name, and it will outlast you.”

The bandit girl stared at her for a moment, then spat on the ground.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll kill you. I think you’ll fetch a fine price in the markets of Kuchinashi.” She sprang for Camilla like a lion. “All I have to do is not damage your face!”

Once, but never again, Camilla thought. She was not that child any more, caged and in need of rescue. She was a Rutulian, Lord Turnus’ right arm! Never again!

The bandit girl descended on her, blades drawn back for a long, slashing strike that would rake across her aura.

The discs swept down and forwards, like falcons on the hunt.

Camilla ducked, her long hair, white as snow, billowing all around her, her vulpine ears pressed down to her head, as the bandit’s discs passed harmlessly over her.

Camilla gritted her teeth as she lunged upwards with Valeria Victrix, fire dust chambered in the hilt, and as the blade connected with the bandit’s gut, Camilla pressed the trigger built into the guard, and a blast of fire erupted out of the blade to blast the bandit backwards.

The bandit girl kept her feet, unfortunately, and raised her weapons to start shooting, energy bolts leaping from the centre of both discs. Camilla parried them away with her gladius as she charged, tail and hair alike both streaming out behind her as she ran, Valeria Victrix tracing silver patterns through the air before her. She closed the distance between them, slashing with her sword.

The bandit parried, catching Camilla’s blade in her disc and twisting it out of her hand.

She grinned as she aimed her other weapon into Camilla’s face.

Camilla punched her enemy in hers before she could pull the trigger, hitting her hard enough with her armoured left hand to snap her head backwards and force her to retreat.

In a single, fluid motion, Camilla grabbed her sword off the floor and swept it upwards, slashing the bandit across the chest. She thrust for her neck. The bandit girl dodged, her whole body weaving, flowing like water as she sought to sidestep around Camilla’s flank. Camilla turned to keep them in view, her tail swirling around her. The bandit girl slashed with her discs, Camilla parried with Valeria Victrix; she countered with her sword, but the bandit parried her strokes in turn.

They both retreated a couple of steps, their eyes fixed on one another.

The bandit girl raised one disc, and three beams burst from the weapon to fly straight at her. Camilla dodged, her body twisting as the beams flew past her, but in that moment of distraction, the bandit threw her other weapon aside.

Camilla turned, but too slow; it struck her on the temple and knocked her aside. The bandit sprang at her again, slashing diagonally across Camilla’s body to—

Camilla grabbed her by the wrist mid-stroke, pulling the bandit forward as she herself stepped aside, slamming her into the ground as she cycled to ice dust in the chamber of Valeria Victrix.

She brought the blade down on the bandit’s hand, enclosing hand and weapon alike in ice, sticking both in place and to the ground.

She grabbed the bandit by her hair, short as it was, and lifted her face up before slamming it down into the ground.

Then she did it again. She made to do it a third time.

A laser blast from the bandit’s disc devoured the ice that had encased it — Camilla had not expected it to be able to make such short work of it — and she twisted to throw the disc at Camilla, who was able to avoid it but only by leaping off her enemy and away.

The bandit girl regained her feet, both discs flying back into her outstretched and waiting hands.

Camilla settled into a guard, Valeria Victrix held before her.

The bandit girl stared — or glared — at her for a moment.

Then she, like the other bandits before her, turned and fled, joining the press fleeing away along the riverbank, away from the Rutulian assault.

Camilla began to pursue, tail flying behind her. She sheathed Valeria Victrix and reached for Diana’s Devotion.

A growl of thunder — but the sky had been clear when the attack began — made her look up, to see lightning lancing down from out of the dark clouds that had suddenly gathered overhead, so much lightning in jagged points, so many spears from heaven falling, bolts that struck from the clouds to make the earth explode all around them.

The heavens opened.

Turnus didn’t know how it had happened. The sky had been clear, the moon and stars alike both visible. The sky had been clear, and there had been no sign of gathering clouds anywhere to be seen. And yet, the clouds had gathered, thick and dark overhead, and now, the heavens were opening, not with rain but with lightning, so much lightning, such a lightning storm as he had never seen before in all his years, nor heard tell of in the years of older men.

Lightning fell like rain would normally fall, lightning fell like missiles fired from an Atlesian cruiser overhead, lightning fell all around them, striking the ground in vast explosions, kicking dust into the air, setting tents alight, destroying supplies stolen from more honest men.

Lightning fell all around and in the midst of the Rutulians. It did not harm the bandits as they fled; it only targeted those who opposed them, and any foes who were unlucky enough to still be caught amidst their forces.

Lightning fell amongst the Rutulians, forcing them to scatter to avoid it, to try and predict where the lightning would fall next, to stay out of its way, even as it seemed to hunt for them.

“Take cover!” Turnus yelled, hoping that his voice was heard above the roar of thunder and the crackle of the lightning and the explosions as it struck the ground.

Fortunately, it seemed that his warriors could guess what to do without being told, although as they scrambled to find cover, or simply threw themselves to the ground, he heard some cries of pain from amongst his ranks.

And Pallas…

Pallas was caught in the open. He yelped in fright as a lightning bolt struck close by, flinching from it, turning away, only to have another bolt land there and only narrowly avoid him. He froze, his eyes flickering this way and that as the lightning fell all around him, boxing him in, leaving him nowhere to turn.

“Down on the ground!” Turnus yelled, but Pallas either couldn’t hear him or was too stunned by what was happening to react.

Turnus ran towards him. If he had to force him to the ground himself and shield him with his body, he would. He ran towards him, arms pounding.

A bolt of lightning struck Pallas squarely in the chest. He did not scream, he did not cry out, he didn’t say anything at all. But as the bolt struck him, his eyes widened, and he dropped to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut, a smoking burn in the centre of his chest.

“No!” Turnus yelled as he reached the body, throwing himself down beside. “Pallas? Pallas!”

He did not answer. He would never answer again. His eyes were wide and lifeless, his breath was nowhere to be felt, his heart was still.

A Father’s Blessing was clutched in his lifeless hands.

A blessing from a father who would never see his son again.

Turnus looked around as the lightning fell. Why? Why was this happening? What was causing this; had they offended Seraphis in some way?

No. No, it was not Seraphis; this was not the doing of the gods. As Turnus looked around, he saw, standing before the great tent at the back of the camp, a single bandit who was not running, who seemed to be covering the retreat of the rest. Tall, they were, and with a lordly bearing, clad in armour of dark red like blood spilled some time hence, their armour in the lamellar fashion. Hair of raven black, thick and long, fell in waves down behind them to below their waist, while their face was hidden behind a mask of bone white, decorated with red markings, that almost resembled the skull of a grimm. A sword was at their hip, but they had not drawn it. Rather, they stood before their tent, hands by their sides, and waited as the lightning fell and all the surviving bandits retreated into the night.

Them. They were doing this. They had done this. Turnus didn’t know how they were doing it — some semblance of extraordinary power — but he knew. He could tell. He could feel it in his bones.

He leapt up, splitting Furor from one great spear into two light javelins, and with a roar, he cast first one half of Furor and then the other.

They turned and dodged the first spear; the second, they caught in one hand, and swiftly turned and threw back at him.

Turnus caught it in turn, though it was so strongly thrown and jarred him so much to catch it that he was unable to throw it back the same way.

They looked at him.

Turnus drew Eris from her sheath as the lightning ceased and the sky began to clear.

The bandit ducked inside their tent.

Turnus pursued him, sword in hand. He pushed aside the flap of the tent and stepped inside to find it empty, or at least empty of people; it was well-appointed with stolen goods.

He strode through the tent, kicking a table out of the way, and emerged out the other side to find … nothing.

There was no one there. No sign of the bandit. Only the rocking, croak-like laughter of a raven somewhere in the night, mocking him for his failure.

Camilla emerged out of the tent to stand beside him. “Where … where are they?” she asked.

“Do you not see them either?” Turnus demanded.

Camilla looked around. “No,” she admitted. “No. I do not. I can see some of the bandits retreating; shall we pursue them?”

Turnus hesitated for a moment. “No,” he replied. “No, not after this.”

At least one man was dead, he knew that others were hurt, and whatever had been done to cause that barrage of lightning had knocked the wind out of their attack.

It had certainly knocked the wind out of him.

“We have wounded them,” he said. “Badly, I think. I do not believe they will remain in this part of Mistral for much longer. They will retreat to safer ground. We have … we have not done all that we hoped, but we have done all that we set out to do.”

Camilla was silent for a moment. “As you say, my lord,” she murmured.

Turnus nodded, before a scream of rage escaped him, a scream up to the heavens. Seventeen years old. Perhaps I should have taken it as a sign when he didn’t get into Haven.

“This was not your fault,” Camilla said.

“He was one of my men; whose fault is it but my own?” Turnus demanded. He took a deep breath. “It will be revenged,” he vowed. “Not now, not while we have wounded to tend to, wounds to lick, not while we are … out of sorts, but it will be revenged.”

“I have no doubt,” Camilla said.

Fortunately, they had lost no one else. Mezentius was wounded, as were Euryalus, Murranus, Ligarius, Metiscus, and Camers.

But only Pallas had fallen.

It was enough.

“Raise up a pyre for him,” Turnus commanded. “There is plenty of wood around. Strip this camp and let us send him on his way.”

“Yes, my lord,” Ufens said, bowing his head.

Turnus gaze fell upon the bandit prisoners. A dozen men, crouched under the watchful eyes of Messapus and Tolumnius. A dozen men, disarmed, kneeling on the ground, fear in their eyes.

He took a step towards them, and another, and with his semblance, he made himself seem to swell in size so as to put the fear in them.

“And put these vermin on the pyre as well,” he declared. “They will escort Pallas on his way to the honour that awaits him.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Nisus, Ufens, even Camilla stared at him with astonished eyes.

“My lord—” Ufens began.

“Do as I command!” Turnus snarled.

Ufens swallowed. “Yes, my lord.”

And so, they raised a pyre for Pallas and tied the captives to it, and Turnus listened to their screams as the flames consumed them along with his fallen follower.

It brought him some comfort, as vengeance always did, but so long as that bandit in the grimm-like helm remained alive … it would be business unfinished.

In Her Heart (New)

In Her Heart

“And we’re all done now, right?” Penny asked as she walked through the door into RSPT’s room in Atlas Academy.

“All done,” Twilight confirmed. “The rest of the day is your own.”

“There isn’t much of the day left,” Penny grumbled.

Twilight didn’t deny it. “I know … okay, I don’t know, but … I’m sorry that this is frustrating, Penny, but your father just wants to make sure that everything is working as it should be after your refit.”

“I know,” Penny muttered, not bothering to add that everything was working fine and she didn’t need a battery of tests that seemed to be nearly incessant to tell her that. There was no point in saying so. Twilight wouldn’t have understood, after all.

Just like she wouldn’t have understood what Penny meant when she said that she suspected her father was deliberately dragging her into the lab for more and more tests just so that he could keep an eye on her.

Or perhaps Twilight would understand, but she would pretend not to.

Twilight’s mouth opened, and then closed again very quickly, but then opened again as she said, “Is there anything that you need?”

Penny looked around the room. Aside from Twilight and herself, it was empty, with neither Ciel nor Rainbow Dash in evidence. “Where are the others?” she asked.

“Ciel went back to Mantle to spend some time with her family, and Rainbow is flying Applejack to Canterlot,” Twilight said. “I think she’s planning to stay the weekend, but she’ll be back on Monday.”

“I see,” Penny said.

“Do you want me to stick around?” Twilight asked. “We could—”

“No,” Penny replied quickly. “It’s fine. I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do.”

Twilight frowned ever so slightly above her spectacles. “I have time for you, Penny.”

Penny turned to her and smiled. “Twilight, I’m not a little kid; you don’t need to watch me in case I get into trouble. You go on, I’ll be fine. You had plans, didn’t you?” Twilight was the kind of person who seemed as though she always had plans.

“Well, I was going to take Blake to the Observatory,” Twilight admitted. “But—”

“Go,” Penny insisted. “I don’t want to spoil your fun. I’ll be fine.”

Nevertheless, Twilight hesitated. “You won’t get into any trouble, will you?”

Penny pouted a little. “Twilight!”

Twilight chuckled. “Okay, I’m sorry, you’re right. You’re not a little kid, and you can be left alone by yourself. And I guess I’ll do just that. Goodnight, Penny.”

“Goodnight, Twilight!” Penny cried, waving to her with one hand. “Have fun.”

Twilight smiled, and was still smiling as she turned away and walked out of the dorm room. The door slid closed behind her.

Penny waited for a few moments, mentally counting to herself so that she was waiting for Twilight to get down the corridor, away from the room.

Then she said a rude word, because there was nobody around to scold her for it.

This was going to be fantastic! Nobody to be in charge of her, nobody to watch over her, nobody to tell her what she could or couldn’t do, nobody to say that it was improper or undignified, nobody, in short, to tell her ‘no.’

It was going to be great! She could do anything she wanted!

She had no idea what to do.

Penny flopped down onto the nearest bottom bunk, sitting down heavily upon it as the mattress gave way beneath her.

She bounced slightly up and down upon it, tapping her hands upon the dark quilt that sat on top of the bed.

What could she do? What could she do?

What couldn’t she do? She was all alone; she could do anything she wanted to! Ciel was gone, and Rainbow wasn’t coming back tonight. Penny could stay up all night; she could stay up all night playing video games! She could watch all the movies that Ciel said were inappropriate for her. She could break cur— okay, no, she couldn’t break curfew; just because Rainbow and Ciel weren’t here didn’t mean she’d be allowed out of the Academy. Even though the semester had ended, the Academy and its students were still subject to military discipline while they were rooming on Academy grounds — Twilight wasn’t rooming on Academy grounds, neither was Ciel for now, and Rainbow had probably been given a pass.

Penny was not so lucky.

That rather put a crimp in what she could do, given that it wasn’t as if she could go into Atlas.

Still, there were things that she could do in the Academy, right?

Right?

Penny lay down on her back, looking up at the top of the pod-like bunk in which she was partially enclosed.

What could she do? What should she do?

What did she want to do?

Penny rolled over onto her front, kicking her legs up and down.

What was this feeling? Was she … was she bored? How could she be bored? This was her chance to do whatever she wanted!

Except that she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do!

Penny pouted. Where was Ciel when you needed her?

She was almost certain that she was being childish about this, but everyone kept treating her like a child, so why shouldn’t she behave childishly sometimes?

She sat up once more, the pout still set upon her face. She couldn’t just sit here all night until Rainbow Dash came back!

Well, perhaps she could, but she didn’t want to. Apart from anything else, it would be embarrassing, even if no one ever found out about it; Penny would know, and she would feel embarrassed regardless.

Penny got up, pacing up and down the dorm room, causing the door to slide open a couple of times as she got close enough to it to trigger the motion sensor, even though she didn’t actually leave the room.

Perhaps she ought to leave the room. Perhaps she ought to go and … and do what? She didn’t really know any of the other students.

Perhaps she should try and make some new friends?

How? Well, obviously by…

By…

Huh. It hadn’t occurred to Penny until this point just how incredibly lucky she’d been to run into Ruby and Pyrrha and have everything work out the way it had. Faced with the task of meeting new people without a fortuitous set of circumstances to bring them together, she found herself in a little bit of a quandary.

Penny was not unaware that she could come across as … a little odd. And in the back of her mind, she could still remember what Blake had said during their mission to Cold Harbour, about how people didn’t like things — or people — that were different from them. The idea of having to approach others by herself, unaided … well, it caused no small amount of trepidation on her part.

Perhaps she should give up on that idea and just call Ruby or Pyrrha and see if they were around for her to talk to.

That would be easier. And it would give her something to do. For a while, anyway.

And at some point, she should maybe apologise to Ciel for not realising all the things she did for Penny.

Penny’s thoughts were interrupted as her scroll went off. The buzzing sound seemed louder than normal in the hitherto silent dorm room, and the sudden noise made Penny jump just a little bit before she realised what it was. She got out her scroll. She didn’t recognise the number that was calling; it wasn’t anyone in her contact list.

She wondered if she ought to answer. Ciel had been quite clear on answering calls from strangers; Rainbow had told her that if you didn’t recognise a number, it was probably somebody trying to sell you something, but Ciel had hinted at much darker possibilities besides. Either way, they had both agreed that the best thing to do was not to answer.

But then, they weren’t here, were they?

But that didn’t mean that it was bad advice.

But their advice was so suffocating sometimes.

But look at what a state she’d gotten herself into without either of them around!

But she was really bored and wanted something to do, and maybe she could practice trying to talk to new people on whoever was trying to sell her … whatever.

And if it was anything bad, then she could always hang up, right?

Penny pressed the green icon to take the call.

She didn’t recognise the number, but she recognised the face that instantly filled up her screen, from his soft brown eyes to his grey beard to the olive green cap that he wore on top of his head.

Her eyes widened. “Uncle Pietro?”

Pietro smiled. “Please, Penny, don’t you think that you could call me ‘Dad’?”

Penny smiled back. “I … I’d like that, Dad.”

Pietro laughed softly. “It … I know this might sound selfish, but it’s good to hear that word in your voice. It sounds … beautiful.”

“How did you get my number?” Penny asked.

“Rainbow Dash gave it to me,” Pietro said.

“'Rainbow Dash'?” Penny repeated. “You’ve seen Rainbow Dash?”

“She came down to Mantle to talk to me,” Pietro explained. “She gave me your number so that I could give you a call, so that we could talk, from time to time. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Penny said quickly. She hadn’t been allowed to have any contact with her un— with her dad since … since just after she’d been … awakened or born or finished or whatever. He was in her very earliest memories, and she had called him Dad, then, while calling Father … Father. She called them by what they had asked to be called.

And then, one day, Dad was gone. Dad was gone and Father wouldn’t explain why, except to say that ‘Uncle Pietro’ — he wouldn’t hear of him being called Dad in his presence — wasn’t going to be coming around anymore.

It was Twilight who had explained to her why her Dad, or her uncle, wouldn’t be around any more: that he and Father had had a disagreement about Penny, and about Penny’s going to the Academy and entering the Vytal Festival. At the time, Penny had heard the words without really understanding them, but she felt she had a much better understanding now.

“You … you didn’t want this for me, did you, Dad?” she asked.

Pietro was quiet for a moment. “No, sweetheart, no, I didn’t,” he said. “I wanted … I suppose I wanted a little girl to love, and to love me back, and maybe that was selfish of me in its own way, but … well, it doesn’t really matter now? All water under the bridge. At least, it’s not what I called you to talk about. How are you doing, Penny?”

“I’m a little bored right now,” Penny said. “I thought it would be nice being all on my own without anyone to tell me what to do, but after spending so much time with other people telling me what to do, I don’t know what to do without them around.”

Pietro laughed. “That’s a hazard of growing up, one that we all have to deal with sooner or later. I remember the first time that Japeth and I were old enough for our mom to leave us home by ourselves. She was very glad of it; it saved her a fortune in childcare arrangements … or that’s what she thought before we nearly blew up the house with one of our experiments.”

Penny let out a laugh. “What were you doing?”

“We had an idea for something we called a ‘Ground Bridge,’” Pietro explained. “The gist of it was that if the CCT can transmit information across continents nearly instantaneously, then we thought it might be possible to transmit people and objects in the same way. Just imagine it: no more need for lengthy, dust-consuming airship trips between kingdoms; you just step onto a bridge in Atlas or Mantle and are transported to Vale or Mistral in moments.”

“That sounds amazing,” Penny agreed; she could just go back to Beacon to see Ruby tonight and be back before Rainbow Dash returned.

“As a theory, it definitely had a lot of appeal,” Pietro said. “But we never could get it to work, even though we went back to it a couple of times when we were grown up. I guess it’s one of those ideas that’s meant to stay confined to realms of theory. Suffice to say that, after the first time, Mom laid down some ground rules on what we were and weren’t allowed to do when we were home alone.” He paused. “But I wasn’t just asking about how you were doing right now. I mean, more generally, how are you?”

“More generally, I’m fine,” Penny said. “I’m looking forward to the Vytal Festival; I don’t know if I can win the tournament, because my friend Pyrrha is—”

“Penny,” Pietro said, gently but firmly, cutting her off. “Come on, now, you can be honest with me.”

Penny blinked. “Honest about what, Dad?”

“I know,” Pietro said, putting emphasis upon the word ‘know’. “I know that you know about Japeth, that he … that he’s…”

“Dying,” Penny murmured. It was the first time that she had said the word out loud, at least when talking about her father. It was the first time since hearing it that she had really thought about it, and she hadn’t thought about it much at the time. “Yes, I know. I heard him telling Rainbow and Ciel. You know, as well?”

“I’ve known for a long time,” Pietro said. “I’ve known … I’ve always known it was a possibility, same as Japeth. It’s a genetic condition; our mother had it. In a way, Japeth is lucky that it took so long to manifest in him … although not as lucky as I am, I admit. It can’t have been easy, finding out that way.”

“I couldn’t talk,” Penny said softly. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything except listen.”

Pietro sighed. “I … Japeth and I don’t agree upon a lot of things, but I know that isn’t how he would have liked for you to find that out.”

“Would he have wanted me to find out at all?” Penny asked.

“I … don’t know,” Pietro admitted. “Maybe not until after he was gone, maybe not even then; maybe he would have liked for everyone to have kept it a secret from you why he died. There’s a reason it isn’t publicised—”

“He said it was because he would be sent on leave, to rest,” Penny said.

“Maybe that’s a part of it,” Pietro replied. “But I think the more important reason is that he’s a proud man, and he doesn’t want anyone to see him as being less than what he was, what he’s seen to be. He doesn’t want anyone to look at him with pity. I suppose I can understand that. I don’t have much of a choice, with how visible this chair of mine is. I get plenty of pitying looks whether I want them or not, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

He shook his head.

“But here I am, talking about myself again, when I called you to talk about you.” He paused. “Rainbow Dash came to see me because you haven’t talked to anyone about this. Not to her, not to Ciel Soleil or Twilight, not to your friends at Beacon that she told me about.”

“Maybe Rainbow Dash should mind her own business,” Penny muttered.

“Penny,” Pietro said, in a tone of gentle reproach. “She’s just worried about you. She’s worried that … well, let’s just say that she’s worried. And she asked me to call you to see … how are you doing, Penny? How are you feeling?”

“About this?” Penny asked in return. “About Father?”

Pietro nodded. “Exactly.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I … I don’t know,” she admitted. There was a reason — there were several reasons — why she hadn’t spoken to Ciel or Rainbow or even to Ruby or Pyrrha about this, and the fact that she wasn’t sure how she was feeling was one of them. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to think about this.”

“'Supposed to think'?” Pietro repeated. “Penny, you’re not supposed to think anything or feel anything. It only matters what you do think, what you do feel?”

“Do you mean that?” Penny asked. “Do you really, truly mean it?”

Pietro frowned a little. “Penny, what’s this about?”

Again, Penny took a few moments of pause before she replied, “Rainbow told you about my friends I met at Beacon, about Ruby Rose and Pyrrha Nikos?”

Pietro nodded. “She did, yes. They seem like very nice people.”

“They are, they’re the best,” Penny assured him. “Did Rainbow Dash tell you that Ruby’s mother was a huntress, and that she died?”

“No,” Pietro said softly. “No, it didn’t come up. I guess Rainbow didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Ruby was only very young when she lost her mother,” Penny continued. “And I don’t think that she remembers her very well, but … but she misses her. I think she misses her a whole lot. I think … it’s like she’s standing in her mother’s shadow, trying to grow into it. I … I believe that Pyrrha was older when she lost her father, and that she remembers him better, although she doesn’t talk about it, so I could be wrong.”

“Penny,” Pietro murmured. “I’m afraid that I don’t see—”

“I daren’t talk to them about this because they wouldn’t understand why I’m not sad!” Penny cried, her voice rising, her eyes widening as she bent over a little bit. “I know that I’m supposed to be sad,” she repeated. “I’m supposed to be sad, like … I’m supposed to feel so bad about what’s happening to Father, and it’s supposed to drown out all my other feelings, and nothing else should matter to me except how little time he has left, but … but that’s not how I feel.”

Now, it was Pietro’s turn to fall temporarily silent. At last, in a voice that was, for the moment, free from the judgement that Penny feared, he said, “And how do you feel, Penny?”

“I feel…” Penny hesitated.

“You can be honest,” Pietro assured her. “Whatever you have to say, I won’t judge. I’m listening. That’s all I’m here to do, is listen.”

Penny closed her eyes for a moment. “Father … he had … he had no right to create me just for himself, to make himself stand taller, to make himself look better! I’m not his legacy; I’m myself! I’m me, I’m a person, and he doesn’t see it at all! And I can’t … I can’t just forgive him for that because he … because he’s dying.”

Penny bowed her head. “I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”

“No,” Pietro said, quietly but fiercely. “No, Penny, you’re not a terrible person. You’re just a person, like all the rest of us. A person a lot like Japeth, in point of fact.”

Penny looked up. “Like Father, really?”

Pietro sighed. “Japeth always said that I was a momma’s boy,” he said wistfully, looking away from Penny and into some distantly remembered past that existed only now in memory and recollection. “And I suppose that was true enough. We both had our mother’s brains, but … in most other ways, Japeth took after our father. Pair of snapping turtles, both of them, incapable of suffering fools, always quick with a cutting rebuke or an impatient word. Naturally, they could barely stand one another. Oh, the fights they used to have.”

He chuckled, although Penny couldn’t see what was so funny about it.

She didn’t ask. Not right now. It didn’t seem particularly important.

“It’s ironic, in some ways,” Pietro went on. “Japeth took after our father, but he inherited Mom’s condition. I was more like our mother, but I got Dad’s bad back. Teach me to spend so much time sitting around laboratories, I suppose.

“Technology wasn’t quite so advanced back then; chairs like mine didn’t exist, so when things got really bad for Dad, he … he ended up just sitting around in the living room, enthroned in that huge armchair of his, barking orders, waiting for the gods to take him away.

“He sat there when Mom got sick. By the end, she was upstairs in her room, lying in bed, not able to do much of anything, and he was downstairs, in that big armchair, complaining that she wouldn’t come down to him.”

“Didn’t he understand?” Penny asked. “Didn’t he care?”

“I don’t know,” Pietro admitted. “I couldn’t see into his heart, or tell you what he was thinking. I’m not sure if he was thinking much of anything, to tell you the truth. He loved our mother, I’m sure of that — the way he acted when she was gone was proof of that — but … Japeth couldn’t ever forgive him for the way that he acted in those last few months. Even when Dad was dying himself, that anger … it never went away.”

“And … and when he was gone?” Penny asked softly. “How did Father feel then?”

“You’d have to ask him about that,” Pietro said. “My point is that I can’t tell you how to feel, and no one can, no one has the right, least of all Japeth. You don’t have to forgive him just because he won’t be around forever, or even for very long; I’m not sure if I can forgive him myself. But the fact is that he won’t be around forever, and when he isn’t, you’re the one who’ll have to reckon with the way that you acted towards him.”

He paused. “Rainbow tells me you’re going to Beacon next year.”

Penny nodded. “That’s right. I want to be somewhere I can decide who I want to be for myself, not have it decided for me by Father or General Ironwood or anyone else.”

“Does Japeth know?” Pietro asked.

“No,” Penny answered, as though that should have been obvious. “If he knew, he wouldn’t let me go.”

“I don’t think that he can stop you, not all by himself,” Pietro replied. “And anyway, he might be more likely to try and stop you if you don’t tell him until it’s done or happening. Maybe it’ll be too late by then, maybe there’ll be nothing he can do, but … even after Mom passed, even though Japeth couldn’t forgive our father, he still came around. Not as often as Dad might have liked, sure, and he certainly didn’t drop everything to help take care of the old man, but he was there, sometimes. There with a cutting remark as often as not, but he was there. And I hope that gave him some comfort, after the end. I hope it still does. You might want that too, some day.”

“I … I see,” Penny murmured. “Thank you, Dad.”

Pietro smiled. “Any time, sweetheart.”

Penny smiled back at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now call me again sometime, okay?”

“Okay,” Penny said. “Really soon, I promise, but right now, I need to ask Twilight for a favour.”

“Well, all right, then,” Pietro said. “I’ll let you get to it. So long, now.”

“Goodbye,” Penny said before she hung up the call.

She stared down at the scroll in her hands for a moment, the screen now turned black, the call terminated.

She knew what she had to do next, and not just because her Dad had pushed her to do it, but because … because it felt … because Dad was right: it was something that she ought to do.

And yet, at the same time, she was afraid to do it.

What if Father wouldn’t accept it, what if he yelled, what if he wouldn’t let her go? What if he locked her up to stop her going anywhere, like the Girl in the Tower in that book of fairytales that Blake had given her?

What if she upset him so much that it made his condition worse?

He wasn’t likely to be much less upset if he found out from someone other than her.

No. No, Dad was right, she had to tell him, and she had to tell him that there was nothing he could do to stop her. She had to tell him that they could call, or see each other sometimes, for however long … however long he had left, but she wasn’t going to … she wasn’t going to put off living her own life for his sake.

He couldn’t ask that of her. Not even, or especially, because he already had.

She had to tell him. She had to tell him the truth, and she had to tell him that there was nothing he could do about it.

And she had to hope that he would understand.

She called Twilight.

Twilight answered very quickly, her face filling the screen on Penny’s scroll. “Penny!” she cried. “Is everything okay, do you need me to come back?”

“No, I’m fine,” Penny said quickly. “I mean, I’m not … I don’t need you to come back right away,” Penny assured her. “But I do need to ask you a favour?”

“Of course, Penny,” Twilight replied. “What is it?”

“Tomorrow morning, can you come with me to speak to my father?” Penny asked. “There’s something I need to tell him.”

Scootaloo (New)

Scootaloo

Having a home outside of town was a bit of a risk when there were grimm around, but when it came to farming, there just wasn’t much for it.

Not to mention that there were never many grimm in Canterlot; this place was just lucky that way, for some reason.

Sweet Apple Acres was not so far from the rest of Canterlot — you could see the town pretty clearly, even at night, and the house was probably the closest thing to the town on the whole property, but even so, it was on the edge.

But what could you do, other than not have a farm at all? And Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna did cover the place on their patrols, so they were pretty much as safe as anyone else in Canterlot.

And that was pretty safe, considering that they didn’t get much trouble here.

Rainbow Dash set The Bus down outside the gate; a white picket fence surrounded the whole property, even the apple orchards stretching away into the distance, only dimly visible in the darkness, and the way through was marked by an archway overgrown with honeysuckle and decorated with big red fake apples — unlike the real ones, they’d never go bad.

As the airship landed, she flipped the switch to open the doors on the right hand side, the side facing Sweet Apple Acres.

“When you fly Rainbow Air, you get door to door service,” she said, looking back out of the cockpit and into the main section of the airship, where Applejack, Rarity, and Winona were waiting.

Winona barked eagerly.

Applejack touched the brim of her hat. “Thank you kindly." She looked from Rainbow Dash to Rarity and then back again. “Either of you want to come inside? You’re welcome to come in and say howdy to Apple Bloom and Granny Smith.”

“Nah, I won’t get in the way of the reunion,” Rainbow said, waving her off with one hand. “You say 'hi' to them for me, okay?”

Applejack smiled. “Will do. Rarity?”

“Likewise, darling,” Rarity said. “We wouldn’t want to step on your moment. Now go on! Shoo! I’m sure they're anxious to see you, so don’t prolong their misery one moment longer!”

Applejack chuckled. “Okay, okay. And we’re still on for campin’ tomorrow night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, and I bet Scootaloo wouldn’t either,” Rainbow said.

“Then Ah’ll see you both then,” Applejack said.

Rarity reached out and took Applejack by the hands as she planted a pair of kisses on her cheeks. “Until tomorrow.”

Applejack nodded and turned away, leaping down out of the airship with Winona by her side. The dog barked happily.

Rainbow unstrapped herself from the pilot’s seat momentarily and left the cockpit so that she could see out of the door.

Even in the dark of the night, the lights coming from inside the airship illuminated Applejack a little bit as she walked underneath the arch and across the open ground of bare and unplanted earth towards the farmhouse. The lights coming out of the windows seemed almost like signals, like the red and green lights on a carrier to welcome the airships home.

Winona kept on barking, and more lights streamed out of the house as Rainbow guessed that a door was thrown open.

Apple Bloom’s voice carried across the night air. “Is that Winona?”

Winona barked in answer.

“Then that must mean— Applejack!”

“Ah’m right here, sugarcube!” Applejack called out, joy and amusement mingling in her voice.

Apple Bloom whooped with glee. “Hey, Granny, Big Mac, get out here! Applejack’s back!”

Rainbow caught a glimpse of a small form momentarily blocking out the light, and then lost sight of the younger girl.

But she could still hear her shouting. “She’s back, she’s back, Applejack’s back! Mah sister’s home!”

In the space where the lights from the airship and the home alike both faded, it was difficult to see what was going on; Applejack had become lost in the shade between the two, and Apple Bloom as well, their forms indistinct, but nevertheless, it looked a lot like Applejack had grabbed her sister and was twirling her around in the air.

Rainbow smiled. “There are a few things that make this really worthwhile,” she declared. “And this right here is one of them.”

Rarity chuckled softly. “Yes, I imagine it must be quite fulfilling, saving people.”

“Saving people, hunting things—”

“Sounds like the tagline for a TV show,” Rarity murmured.

Rainbow snorted. “Huh. Yeah, maybe. You’re right, it is fulfilling. More than that, it’s the best feeling in the world. When you get to see something like this … there’s no better feeling, not in the whole of Remnant.”

“And this is the second time where Applejack’s confirmed,” Rarity said. “You’ll have to let her even the score sometime.”

“Yeah, right,” Rainbow said. “Like that’ll happen.”

She returned to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s seat once more.

She glanced back at Rarity, lingering behind. “Everything okay back there?”

“I’m waiting for my door to door service, darling,” Rarity said dryly.

Rainbow coughed. “Yeah, right. Sorry, I’ll drop you off in Main—”

Rarity laughed. “I’m teasing you, Rainbow, honestly.” She walked into the cockpit, her high heels tapping on the metal floor. She placed a gentle hand on Rainbow’s shoulder and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you for bringing me, for bringing us, out here, but I can find my own way back from here.”

“If you’re sure,” Rainbow said.

“Ordinarily, I might take you up on your offer, but this is Canterlot,” Rarity replied. “And we’ve both walked out here and back plenty of times with no trouble at all.”

Rainbow nodded. “Okay then. Tell Sweetie Belle I said 'hello.'”

“And give my love to Scootaloo, won’t you?” Rarity said as she walked away and to the door. “Until tonight, darling!”

“Later,” Rainbow said, waving to her as Rarity got down, disappearing from her view as she exited the airship.

Rainbow gave her a few seconds to step away, then closed the door.

All alone in the airship now, silence reigned, with no sound but the click of the clasp as Rainbow strapped herself in, and what whine of the engines managed to penetrate the interior as Rainbow eased her airship back up into the air once again.

It wasn’t as though she could just leave it sat outside Sweet Apple Acres all weekend, after all.

Fortunately, there was a small skydock at the back of Canterlot Combat School, where airships could land when needed for training and instructional purposes — mostly ‘this is what it’s like to fly in a Skyray, this where to sit, this is where to stand,’ with an occasional side of landing strategy practice and flying instruction for those students who show an aptitude for it — and so, Rainbow guided her own airship over the sleepy town, where the lights gleamed like candles beneath her, until she arrived at the combat school and set The Bus down on the otherwise empty docking bay.

Rainbow leapt down from out of the airship, landing on the tarmac with a soft thud.

The door slid shut behind her, and Rainbow got out her scroll for a moment to lock the airship up.

“Welcome back, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow looked around to see Principal Celestia standing at the edge of the docking bay, dressed in gilded armour that gleamed in the moonlight, a spear held in one hand.

Rainbow came to attention. “Principal Celestia,” she said. “Have you been on patrol, or is this for my benefit?”

Principal Celestia laughed softly. “I’ve just returned from checking the perimeter,” she said. “Believe me, if I was not, you wouldn’t see me dressed like this — or even up so late. Unlike the Vice Principal, I’m not much of a night owl.”

"Me neither," Rainbow replied. "It is okay if I leave my airship here, isn't it? I have a weekend pass, and then I'll be back to Atlas."

"Of course, it's not as if it's being used for much else at the moment," Principal Celestia pointed out. "So how was Beacon?"

Rainbow thought about it for a second. "Sprawling," she said.

Principal Celestia smiled. "Yes, I remember that very well. I suppose a large campus like Beacon is quite different from the tight verticality of Atlas. Still, I hope you enjoyed yourself there."

"It was fine," Rainbow said. "Better than fine, at times, not so much at others. It was school." And a little more than that, at the end. "Met some good people there, so that's something."

"Indeed," agreed Principal Celestia. "And of course you'll be returning for the Vytal Festival in the fall, when the leaves are golden and the air is crisp. You know that Vice Principal Luna and I attended Beacon Academy. Team Cello."

"Can I ask why?" Rainbow asked. "I mean, why you went to Beacon instead of Atlas? You don't have to tell me; I'm just a little curious."

"I'm afraid you may be disappointed by how simple the answer is," Principal Celestia said. "It was because we didn't want to become Specialists in the Atlesian military. Luna and I wished to carve our own path, as huntresses, not soldiers."

"You're not the only one," Rainbow said, remembering her shared classwork with Ruby when they had discussed what it meant to give up your autonomy and subordinate yourself to something larger than yourself. "But what changed? I mean, you did join the military, and you still have rank, so … again, you don't have to answer."

"In this case, I'm afraid I may not," Principal Celestia murmured. "Suffice to say … to each of us falls a task, but the task that eventually falls to us may be quite different than the one we envisage for ourselves when we set out on our journey."

"I hear that," Rainbow muttered. And so does Blake, for that matter.

Principal Celestia stared at her for a moment, her pale magenta eyes seeming strangely knowing. "Something on your mind, Rainbow Dash?"

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. "I … I'm not sure how much I can say," she admitted.

"Then I will not inquire further," Principal Celestia declared. "Just know that, if you do need to talk while you're here, or at any other time, my door is always open and my scroll is always on."

Rainbow smiled. "Thank you, ma'am; I'll remember that."

Principal Celestia was silent for a moment. "You have, as the expression goes, seen the goliath now, haven't you?"

Rainbow nodded. "Yes," she said softly. "Yes, I reckon I have."

"Glory may mean less to you now than it did when you were here," Principal Celestia said softly. "But I promise you that there is still much to fight for, and much to take courage from. Brave heart, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow clenched her fist and placed it above her heart. "Always, ma'am," she said. "I … I just dropped Applejack off at Sweet Apple Acres, and the way her sister reacted to seeing her again … that's worth fighting for."

"Indeed," Principal Celestia said. "Now, I won't keep you any further. I'm sure that you're anxious to see Scootaloo, and if you don't hurry, you may be too late for her bedtime."

A little laughter escaped from Rainbow's mouth. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, and with that, she began to walk briskly around the outside of the school building, leaving Principal Celestia and her gleaming armour behind as she followed the walls of the tall, square school, passing through the gardens and around to the front, where the Wondercolt Statue sat on its high pedestal, the moonlight falling upon the marble steed as it reared up into the sky.

"Rainbow Dash?" Vice Principal Luna stepped around the statue, emerging into view from behind the plinth. "'Scaped safe from your adventures in Vale, I see."

Rainbow scratched the back of her head. "'Escaped' seems the right word for some of them, ma'am."

Vice Principal Luna smiled. Unlike her sister and principal, she was not armoured; rather, she was dressed in a dark pink short-sleeved sweater, with the collar of a white blouse showing over the top of it, and midnight blue pants. There was a book tucked under her arm, though it was positioned in such a way that Rainbow couldn't see what book or even what type of book it was.

"It is good to see you again, Rainbow Dash," she said. "I won't ask you how Beacon was or anything else, because I'm sure my sister has already asked you that, and I don't want to bore you by making you repeat your answers a second time — or to delay you unnecessarily, for that matter — I simply wished to give you a gift." She walked towards Rainbow, holding out the book that she'd had under her arm. "Consider it a welcome home present."

"That's very kind of you, ma'am, but I'm not sure when I'll get a chance to read it," Rainbow admitted. "I'm still working through the last book someone got me as a gift just before I came back."

"Oh?" Vice Principal Luna asked. "What is the subject?"

"Ares Claudandus and the Faunus Rights Revolution," Rainbow replied.

"Interesting," Vice Principal Luna said. "Nevertheless, I would recommend taking at least a look at this. Please, to humour your old vice principal, at the least."

Rainbow reached out and took the book from Vice Principal Luna's unprotesting hands. It was a hardback, with a dark blue cover, and if she held it up to the moonlight at the right angle, she could see the gold letters on the cover spelling out In Search of the Lady.

Rainbow blinked. "How … how?" she began, when she looked back at Vice Principal Luna.

The Vice Principal's smile was rather coy. "We must have some secrets, mustn't we Rainbow Dash? At least, for the time being. Now off you go, or you'll—"

"Miss bedtime?" Rainbow asked.

Vice Principal Luna chuckled. "I was going to say 'you'll be late for dinner.' Now go."

Rainbow went, tucking the book beneath her arm just as Vice Principal Luna had done before passing it on, and so she left the grounds of the Combat School and headed at a brisk walk through the streets of Canterlot. The town was quiet, as it almost always was — it was a nice place to be, with some real nice people, but no one was going to call it a centre for nightlife in the Kingdom of Atlas. The stores had shut, and while the diner was open it didn't look to be doing a roaring trade. In a place like Canterlot, people had dinner at home, with their families. A little light spilled out from the houses that Rainbow passed along the way, but not much, although more because folks had their curtains drawn than because they were in bed already. Most of the light came from the pale holographic streetlights that were projected along the sides of the road, illuminating Rainbow's way as she went along.

Scootaloo's house was a pretty cottage, or at least it looked like one for all that it was sat in the middle of a town, with a pair of columns holding up the first floor where it jutted out in front of the ground floor, and a tall thatched roof that rose at a sharp angle. It was narrow, with only a single window beside the front door and no room for any others — the first floor also had only the one window in front of it, which was in Scootaloo's room — but very long to compensate. It looked very old-fashioned and traditional — a lot of Canterlot looked quite retro compared to Atlas, and in a good way, the way that had people like Rarity using words like 'charming' and 'bijou,' rather than Mantle where everyone used words like 'unbearable' and 'dump' — but it wasn't, at least not completely. Scootaloo's parents might never be around, but they weren't such deadbeats that they didn't send money back, and some of that money had paid for a state of the art security system controlling the front door. Rainbow didn't need a key, or to disturb anyone by knocking on the door; all she had to do was pull off her glove and press her palm against the green scanner.

The scanner whirred as it scanned her palm print, then the retinal scanner above it flashed once in a sign for Rainbow to bend down a little — quite a bit, actually, as these scanners were at a height for Scootaloo and her friends to use — to let it take a scan of her eyes.

The system satisfied that she was, in fact, Rainbow Dash, the door clicked open.

She stepped inside the hallway, where the floor was chequered in squares of brown and green.

“Who is it?” Ms. Holiday called from inside.

“Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow replied. “I’m sorry I took so long.” In every sense.

“Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cried.

“Sit down, Scootaloo; you haven’t finished your dinner yet,” Ms. Holiday said in a tone of mild reproach.

“Aunt Holiday!”

“We’re in the dining room, kid,” Ms. Lofty called out.

Rainbow walked down the hall and into the dining room, where she found Scootaloo and her aunts, just as Ms. Lofty had said she would. They were all sat at the table, with half-cleared plates in front of them that looked to Rainbow like they held, or had held, spaghetti and meatballs — Scootaloo looked to have eaten all of her meatballs already, while Ms. Lofty seemed to be saving them all for last, and Ms. Holiday looked to have taken a balanced approach. A shaker of cheese sat in the middle of the table, flanked by a pair of candles — unnecessary and unlit in view of the light directly above the kitchen table.

“Ms. Lofty, Ms. Holiday,” she said respectfully, nodding to the two aunts before turning her attention to Scootaloo. “Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”

“Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cried. “You’re here!”

“I told you I’d make it eventually,” Rainbow said, only slightly reproachfully. “But I’m sorry it took so long.”

Scootaloo beamed up at her. “How long can you stay?”

“Only over this weekend,” Rainbow admitted. “But after the Vytal Festival is over, I’ll be able to spend the whole break here, and we can do whatever you want.”

“Unless something else comes up,” Scootaloo muttered.

“If I have to beg General Ironwood to give me a break and let someone else handle it, I will,” Rainbow declared. “After all, what’s the point of being part of a big military if you can’t let other people take up the slack from time to time, huh?”

And anyway, Rainbow couldn’t help but think that after everything this year, she was kind of owed a break. Besides which, she really did expect things to quiet down after the Vytal Festival was over. It was like she’d told Sunset: Cinder was done, she’d thrown away her shot, and she’d have to go away for a while and lick her wounds before she came back for another go at … whatever it was she wanted out of all this.

No, once the tournament was over, things were going to get a lot quieter in Remnant for a while.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Ms. Holiday suggested. “You look awkward standing there looking down on us. Grab a chair, there’s plenty of room.”

Ms. Holiday was a slightly short human woman, a little on the plump side, with a round face and scarlet eyes. Her hair was a deeper shade of scarlet, streaked with tangelo, worn long and curly, descending in waves that curled up at the tips down to around her waist, as well as curving around her cheeks too. She wore little blue flower earrings and a turquoise scarf around her neck, as well as a one-piece blue dress with elbow length sleeves. Her voice had a slight twang to it, an accent that Rainbow couldn’t quite place.

“Thanks, Ms. Holiday,” Rainbow said, drawing out the chair next to Scootaloo’s and sitting down beside her. She put her book down on the table next to her. To Scootaloo, she said, “Things have been kind of hectic this year, and it’s kept me away, but it’s over now—”

“Is it?” asked Ms. Lofty.

A bird faunus, with a pair of pale yellow wings sprouting from her back, she was taller than Ms. Holiday — something that was obvious even when the two were sitting down — and leaner too, something that was not disguised by the light purple sweater she was wearing. She looked older, with bags underneath her opal eyes, but that might just have been because she didn’t get enough sleep. Her hair was cyan streaked with blue, and worn short, barely reaching the nape of her neck. Her voice was sharp and had a little bit of gravel in it.

Scootaloo sighed. “Auntie Lofty—”

“We have a right to be worried about you, Scootaloo,” Ms. Lofty replied before Scootaloo could finish.

Rainbow’s eyes flickered between Ms. Lofty and Ms. Holiday. “What’s this about?” she asked quietly.

“It’s about the Vytal Festival,” Ms. Holiday said. “We know that ticket has been paid for and all the arrangements made with your friends and Scootaloo’s friends, and we didn’t have an issue with it—”

“We were happy for her to go,” Ms. Lofty declared.

“But it was bad enough with the White Fang running around in Vale, but then this grimm attack!” Ms. Holiday exclaimed. “Surely you can understand that we’re having second thoughts about letting Scootaloo go to Vale after that.”

“But I’ve been looking forward to this all year!” Scootaloo moaned. “You just don’t want me to have any fun!”

“Relax, Scootaloo; they’re just worried about you,” Rainbow said.

“You agree with them?!” Scootaloo asked, in an outraged tone.

“No,” Rainbow said. “But I get it.” She paused for a moment. “You saw it on the news?” she asked.

Ms. Holiday nodded. “It was on all the channels. Those poor people in Vale.”

“Yeah, poor people for having such a lousy government,” Ms. Lofty said. “It looked terrible, and I’m sure it was terrible, and I don’t even want to imagine what it must have been like to be living there when that happened, but you have to ask some questions about what the Council down in Vale has been doing all this time that something like that could happen, and there was nothing they could do about it when it did.”

“You might be right, Lofty, but I think Rainbow Dash is trying to tell us something,” Ms. Holiday said.

“Just that there are a few things that the news didn’t talk about,” Rainbow said. “The Breach didn’t just come out of nowhere. The earth didn’t shake and then suddenly there was a hole in the ground and the grimm were coming through. It was the end of a plan, by … by the White Fang. It was the culmination of everything they’d been doing, or trying to do, for the whole year. And it didn’t work. Vale is still there, our forces stopped the Breach, and now the White Fang are done. They won’t be able to pull another stunt like that again, or anything else either. All the dust they’ve stolen got used up, and so did…” Rainbow stopped short of saying ‘so did all their men.’ “Plus, reinforcements are on their way from Atlas to Vale, and General Ironwood has been placed in charge of security, so he’ll be able to respond even faster to any more trouble this time. In a way, Vale is probably the safest place in the whole of Remnant right now, other than Atlas itself.”

Rainbow wondered if that might have been laying it on a bit thick, but where else could boast three Atlesian cruiser squadrons and attached supporting units, plus General Ironwood’s direct command?

“And it’s not just a trip to Vale; it’s the Vytal Festival,” Rainbow went on. “Watching it on TV is no substitute for being in the stadium, watching it live, in the crowd, with her friends. This is going to be something that Scootaloo will never forget.”

Ms. Lofty and Ms. Holiday were silent for a moment. They looked at one another.

“Do you really think it’s safe?” Ms. Holiday asked. “I want your honest, solemn word, Rainbow Dash: do you really believe it’s safe?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t want Scootaloo or any of my friends to go anywhere near it,” Rainbow said. “Yes, I think it’s safe.” I think that the strength of Atlas and Cinder’s stupidity have made it safe.

Ms. Lofty sighed. “Then it sounds like you’re in luck, kiddo.”

“You mean I can go after all!” Scootaloo cried. “Thanks, Auntie Lofty, thanks, Aunt Holiday!”

“We never wanted to spoil your fun,” Ms. Holiday said. “But you have to forgive us for being concerned, after everything.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to get to watch you compete live in the Vytal Festival,” Scootaloo squealed in delight.

Rainbow grinned and ruffled her hair with one hand. “I’ll make sure to put on an epic show for you in the first two rounds.”

“The first two rounds?” Scootaloo repeated. “You’re not going to put yourself forward for the one on one?”

“Nah, I don’t need a laurel crown to tell me how awesome I am,” Rainbow said, resting one arm on the back of her chair. “One of my teammates is really eager for this. Like really, really eager. She’s a massive Pyrrha Nikos fangirl and a tournament enthusiast, and it would mean more than pretty much anything in Remnant to go to the one on one rounds and maybe get the chance to fight her idol. And who am I to say no to that, just because I’d kind of like to do it myself?”

Rainbow felt rather proud of herself for managing to concoct a plausible-sounding story like that without even hinting at the fact that she’d been pretty much ordered to put Penny through into the final round.

“Is she any good?” Scootaloo asked.

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, she’s going to be great.”

“I bet she won’t be as good as you would have been.”

“Probably not, but that’s a really high bar to clear, right?” Rainbow replied, making Ms. Holiday and Ms. Lofty roll their eyes a bit.

Ms. Lofty nodded to the book that Rainbow had put down on the table. “What’s that, Dash?”

“Oh, this?” Rainbow replied, holding up the book. “This is something that Vice Principal Luna gave me when I saw her just now on my way here. I haven’t looked at it yet, but I think it must be about the Lady of the North.”

“Who?” Scootaloo asked.

Rainbow hesitated. “I almost don’t want to say because I’m probably going to get it wrong, but she’s … a religious thing. Like, the way I understand it is that there’s God, and then there’s the Lady of the North who is like … she’s not a god, but you pray to the Lady instead of to God because God doesn’t listen to anybody except to the Lady. I think. I’ve probably not got that quite right.”

“I’d say that I didn’t take you for religious, Rainbow Dash, except that if you were religious, you’d be able to give a better explanation of what it’s all about,” Ms. Holiday said.

“I don’t really know why Vice Principal Luna gave me this book,” Rainbow admitted. “But one of my teammates is religious, so maybe it’s really for her.” Maybe it has some information that we can use to find out the truth about the Lady, and whether or not what Salem said is wholly true or just partly or just a great big lie.

But then, how would Vice Principal Luna know anything about that?

“Either way, I’ll take a look at it,” she said. “It would be rude not to.”

Scootaloo put the last of her spaghetti into her mouth, chewed for a little while, and swallowed it. “So, Rainbow Dash, do you have any cool stories from Beacon?”

“I’ve got a couple of cool stories,” Rainbow replied, in a faux-casual tone that suggested she was trying to keep it casual while not at all actually keeping it casual. She noticed the way that Ms. Holiday and Ms. Lofty tensed up a bit, but she smiled reassuringly to let them know that she was going to keep it age-appropriate. “Now, there was this one time, when all of the students were doing a practical exercise in the EverfreeForest — that’s the forest that sits right next door to Beacon Academy; it’s full of grimm—”

“Beacon has a forest full of grimm right on their doorstep!” Scootaloo cried. “That is so cool. Does Atlas have one of those?”

“Atlas has a city all around it,” Rainbow reminded her. “So no. If we want to do practical exercises, we have to go out into the tundra, or the Snowbound Forest, or other places, depending on if there’s a need. We don’t have a ready-made training ground right on our doorstep the way that Beacon does.”

“Personally, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing,” Ms. Lofty murmured.

“Anyway,” Rainbow went on, “the terms of the exercise were that students would be paired off in random pairs with people who were not on the same team as them. So Twilight got paired up with some random kid from Haven Academy—”

“Who did you get paired with?” Scootaloo asked.

“I didn’t get paired with anyone; I wasn’t part of the first wave of the exercise, although a lot of my friends were,” Rainbow explained. “Twilight, Flash, Blake, Ruby, Jaune, Sunset—”

“'Sunset'?” Ms. Holiday asked. “Not Sunset Shimmer.”

“She’s mellowed since I knew her at combat school,” Rainbow said. “She’s actually kind of cool.”

“I thought this was going to be a story about how you were cool,” Scootaloo protested.

“I’m going to be really cool really soon, just give me a second,” Rainbow assured her. “So, all of my friends, and a couple of other people, went down into the forest. The professors had set bait to draw grimm to the students for the exercise—”

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” said Ms. Lofty.

“It’s a huntsman academy, Ms. Lofty,” Rainbow pointed out. “But … you might have a point on this one, because … things didn’t go entirely according to plan. We still don’t know exactly what happened, but too much bait had been set maybe, or something, or maybe everything was done properly but we had bad luck, because this whole giant load of grimm showed up, a lot more than were expected to. We’re talking about nevermores filling the sky and beowolves and ursai on the ground, a lot more than the professors thought, a lot more than a small group of students in the forest would be able to handle. Now, they couldn’t just get out of the forest because, even though it is next door to the school, there’s a cliff between the two so the grimm can’t get into Beacon itself; that’s why you need an airship to pick you up, but with so many flying grimm, it was too dangerous for airships.” She grinned. “Unless, of course, you happen to be a super awesome pilot like yours truly.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “You got them out?”

“I got them out,” Rainbow confirmed. “Nobody else would dare to fly into the nest of nevermores, but I stepped up. With my friends in danger, I volunteered to fly The Bus into the forest and pick everyone up and get them out safely.”

“Where was the Atlesian fleet?” Ms. Lofty asked.

“Hamstrung by politics,” Rainbow said. “The Valish Council didn’t want to cause a scene by letting our ships start shooting.”

Ms. Lofty snorted. “I can see how Vale ended up in the state that it’s in.”

“And you did it, right?” Scootaloo asked eagerly. “You got them all out.”

“Of course I got them all out,” Rainbow declared. “I dived straight for the ground with a giant nevermore in hot pursuit. It look like we were going to crash for sure, everyone in the airship — Starlight was my co-pilot, with the rest of Trixie’s team on the guns — was certain that we were going to crash, but I pulled up at just the right moment, and it was the nevermore that crashed headfirst into the ground!”

“So cool!”

“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” Rainbow agreed. It was probably the coolest thing to happen in the entire year, not least because it wasn’t at all tainted by any kind of moral ambiguity: just her, a rescue mission, and a whole lot of grimm between her and the objective. It was as simple as it got, and simplicity always made for cool stories.

“But what about you?” she asked. “What have you been up to while I’ve been away?”

Scootaloo looked away. “Oh. Nothing.”

“Now, I know that isn’t true,” Rainbow said. “Come on, what’s been happening? How’s the scooter?”

“I can jump twice as far as I could before,” Scootaloo said.

“Twice as far, huh? And you say that’s nothing?” Rainbow asked. “Why would you keep that to yourself?”

“It’s just a scooter.”

“You can say that about anything,” Rainbow told her. “The cookies that your Auntie Lofty bakes are just cookies, the weapons I carry are just guns, The Bus is just an airship. But it’s my airship and my guns and your Auntie Lofty’s cookies, and it’s your scooter. It’s yours. It’s part of what makes you special. So don’t let anyone take it away from you, and especially don’t take it away from yourself. You’re Scootaloo, and you can ride a scooter like no one else in the whole of Atlas.”

Scootaloo looked up into Rainbow’s eyes. “Really? Do you mean it?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” Rainbow told her.

“So, do you think…?” Scootaloo trailed off.

“What?” Rainbow asked.

“No, it’s stupid.”

“Come on, I want to hear it.”

Scootaloo hesitated for a moment. “Do you think I could use my scooter as my weapon?”

Rainbow’s smile widened. “Well, maybe not your current scooter, considering it doesn’t exactly transform into anything, but a scooter? Sure, I don’t see why not.”

“Really?” Ms. Lofty asked. “I thought you might talk her out of that idea.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Rainbow told her.

“It’s a scooter!” Ms. Lofty declared.

“And there’s a guy in the Academy who plays a trumpet as his weapon,” Rainbow pointed out. “And it doesn’t even turn into a gun. Besides, I’m betting a scooter would hurt if it ran into you hard enough. Now, I admit that I’m not a weapons expert, and we’d really need Twilight to actually make this dream come true, but what about … does anyone have a napkin and a pencil?”

“Would you girls like some pie while you work?” Ms. Holiday asked, getting up and starting to clear away the dishes.

Rainbow looked at her. “Ms. Holiday, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, like I could serve up dessert and leave you sitting there with nothing,” Ms. Holiday said. “It’s Lofty’s cookie dough pie, and there’s whipped cream.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?” Rainbow asked. “Thanks Ms. Holiday, and thank you for making it, Ms. Lofty.”

“Scootaloo?”

“Yes please, Aunt Holiday.”

“Here’s a napkin and a pencil,” Aunt Lofty said, pushing both across the dining room table. “But are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a real sheet of paper?”

“Maybe later,” Rainbow said. “But Twilight says that all her best ideas start with a napkin. She told me once that she got the idea for Wings of Harmony from a ketchup stain.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either, but it seems to work for her,” Rainbow said. “Anyway, thanks for both of these. Now, Scootaloo, where do you want to start?”

“An awesome name?”

Rainbow chuckled. “The awesome name comes at the end, once you have the thing that you’re naming,” she said. “The first thing you want to do is decide what it is that you want. Well, we’ve kind of got there already; you want a scooter, right?”

“Right!”

“Okay, a scooter. Let’s start with a pretty basic thing,” Rainbow murmured, as she started to sketch out a standard scooter, not too different from the kind that Scootaloo rode at the moment. “But, let’s put an engine on there.”

“Why?” Scootaloo asked.

“First, because you can go faster that way,” Rainbow said. “Second, you won’t tire yourself from pushing it along. Say you couldn’t get picked up by air, and you had to go a long distance by scooter, you’d want the motor to make it easier. Speaking of which, say we lengthened the board so that your partner can ride on it as well—”

“What if,” Scootaloo said, “we didn’t do that but we had something that I could pull along behind the scooter, like that wagon that I used to use to drag Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle around in?”

“Now that is a cool idea,” Rainbow said. “What if that had wheels, but it also had some gravity dust, so that it could float over rough terrain?”

“What if the scooter did too?”

“Oh, yeah, this is going to be the greatest weapon ever.”

They talked, and they drew, running out of space on the napkin and moved on to regular sheets of paper, and as they talked and drew, they ate delicious cookie dough pie and whipped cream — Ms. Lofty really knew how to bake; she might even be better than Pinkie, for now at least.

They discussed how many different weapons the scooter should be transform into, starting with two — a gun and a close combat weapon — but moving up to three, four, five, before deciding that might be a bit much and going down to three again, but they could make up for it by having the wagon transform into a support weapon! Or more than one even!

When they showed this to Twilight, she was probably going to say it was wildly impractical, and they needed to scale back their ambitions, but for tonight, they were not just designing a super awesome weapon; they were having fun doing it.

And if that wasn’t exactly the most important thing, then it was, at least, a very important thing.

A Blessing Sought (New)

A Blessing Sought

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Twilight asked.

Penny tilted her head a little to one side. "Are you asking if I want to transfer to Beacon, or tell my father?"

"Well, I suppose I was thinking more about the second than the first one," Twilight replied. "But if you're having second thoughts about the first one, you can tell me that too."

Penny smiled. The two of them were sitting in the lobby of the Office of Research and Development, seated upon a soft blue sofa that was one of the only spots of colour in the otherwise white, sterile environment. An NCO in the white non-combat uniform of the Atlesian forces sat behind a desk and a protective screen on the other side of the room, flanked by a pair of armed guards, their faces concealed beneath their helmets. White AK-200 androids stood at the security booths that scanned the passes of those coming in and out of the building. As it was morning, far more people were going in than coming out, a river of people in lab coats and suits, scanning their authorisation passes with little beeps as they passed through the scanners.

Twilight was wearing her own pass around her neck; Penny didn't have one, but the NCO on the desk had given her a guest pass which would enable her to get through the scanners for today only.

But they had not yet gone in. Instead, they sat on the sofa in the lobby, waiting as the people streamed in past them, occasionally pausing to say hello to Twilight.

"I'm not having second thoughts about it," Penny said gently, with a smile on her face. "That, to go to Beacon, is what I want."

"Is it?" Twilight asked. "Or do you just want to be where your friends are?"

Penny frowned in confusion. "I … don't understand the difference?"

"If you want to be a huntress, you just don't want to be at the beck and call of the Atlesian military, then transfer to Beacon," Twilight told her. "I think that's probably why every Atlesian at Beacon, like Flash or Weiss Schnee, chooses Beacon Academy over Atlas. But only if you want to be a huntress. If not, if all that you want is to be by your friends, then by all means, live in Vale, but you don't have to go to Beacon to do that. Do you want to be a huntress? Or is there something else that you would rather be?"

Penny did not reply immediately, her mind whirring as she considered the question. "I don't know," Penny admitted. "I don't know if there is anything I would rather be than a huntress, because I haven't been given the chance to find out." She could not prevent her tone from sharpening into something accusative at those words, and she was not altogether sure that she wanted to. "I was created to be a huntress, to fight, not to do anything else."

Twilight winced. "Yes, yes, I know. But if you want to assert your freedom and be more than … than you were created to be, then … then you can be something else, if you want."

"Like what?" Penny asked.

"I … I think that's up to you, Penny."

"But I have no idea," Penny pointed out. "Maybe I will have some idea later, and if I do, then I can do what you suggest: drop out of Beacon but stay in Vale to pursue … whatever it is that I decide to do, but until then, isn't Beacon as good a place as any to figure that out?"

Twilight smiled. "Well, I suppose you make a pretty good point there," she accepted.

"And besides," Penny added, "just because I don't want to do exactly what my father created me for, doesn't mean that…?"

Twilight waited for her to continue. "Penny?" she prompted.

"Ruby makes it seem very noble, doesn't she?" Penny asked. "To be a huntress?"

Twilight covered her mouth with one hand as she let out a little chuckle. "Yes. Yes, I suppose she does," she said. "In part because it is noble, inherently so, and so Ruby isn't required to conjure virtue where none exists. But, yes, I grant you, she makes it sound very grand."

"Even if the reason I can fight is because I was created to, that doesn't change the fact that I can fight," Penny declared. "And so I don't know if I could just walk away especially with…" She paused for a moment, looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Especially not with what we know about … you know."

Twilight nodded, freeing Penny from the need to actually say it. "I can understand that, Penny, that … that speaks well of you, not that you need my approval on your character."

"I was made to fight the battles that they never could," Penny declared. "Just because I don't want to fight those battles under the colours of Atlas doesn't mean that I don't want to fight them at all."

Twilight smiled. "You sounded pretty noble yourself there." She hesitated, looking down at her hands where they lay in her lap. "I feel as though I owe you an apology, Penny."

Penny blinked. "For what?"

"For the fact that I'm a coward, for one," Twilight admitted. "I … I saw the issues with you — no, not with you, the issues with what we were doing to you, with what we planned to do with you — earlier than Rainbow Dash, certainly earlier than Ciel. I should have talked to General Ironwood, I should have talked to your father, but I didn't. I let Rainbow put my fears at ease, and then I didn't really think much about it afterwards, because … because I suppose I didn't really want to think about it. I didn't want to look things in the eye or sully my idea of Atlas with the fact of what we had done."

"I suppose, if you hadn't done it, then I wouldn't be here, would I?" Penny asked.

"No," Twilight acknowledged. "No, I guess not. All the same, I still feel as though I owe you an apology for not acting sooner, not fighting for you, for not pushing Rainbow Dash to see what was really going on with you. And most of all, for not reaching out to you." She reached out now, even as the words passed her lips, and took Penny's hands in her own. Her hands were soft, and her grip was gentle. "The fact that you want to go to Beacon is … proof of our failure, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Penny replied. A hiccup escaped her lips.

Twilight laughed. "You're a very kind girl, Penny, but a very bad liar." She paused a moment. "All right, you definitely want to go to Beacon. But are you certain that you want to tell your father about it? Doctor Polendina—"

"Might try to stop me?" Penny asked. "That isn't his decision, is it?"

"Technically, no," Twilight replied. "But power is not simply a matter of what the rules say or who has the defined authority; it exists in influence and who knows who and words spoken in the right ear. Jacques Schnee has no formal power outside of the Schnee Dust Company, but he remains one of the most powerful men in the kingdom regardless, because his wealth and status accord him a great deal of influence. Your father is not of that order, but he has influence all the same. Influence that he may use against you. I probably shouldn't be encouraging you to lie, but…"

"I have to tell him," Penny said. "I think I have to tell him. I have to tell him because … because he's dying, and I'd rather that … I suppose I'd rather that we could be father and daughter before that happens, rather than me running away and not speaking to him again before … before. Dad says that I'll have to live with that if I do."

"'Dad'? Twilight asked.

"Pietro," Penny explained.

Twilight's eyebrows rose. "You've spoken to Doctor Pietro?"

"He called me last night," Penny explained. "Rainbow Dash gave him my number."

"Huh," Twilight said. "That … huh. Good for her, so she really did go and see him."

"Regardless of how my father has treated me," Penny said, "I'll have to live with how I treat my father."

"That … that's very wise, Penny," Twilight said. "And very kind."

Penny leaned forward a little. "I could still use some moral support, though."

Twilight chuckled. "Of course. Are you ready?"

"Yes. I think so," Penny said. "I mean, yes. I mean … yes. Yes, I'm ready."

"Okay then," Twilight said, in a calm voice that helped Penny to feel calm as well. "Let's get to it."

Twilight allowed Penny to go through the scanners first, her guest pass making a different sort of sound to the regular passes that everyone else was using — or the pass that Twilight used to follow her through. Penny's pass had a sort of whine about it, something which — once noticed — she could not unnotice.

She didn't like coming here. It seemed like the whole building was conspiring to make her feel different.

They managed to get an elevator all by themselves, just Penny and Twilight riding the lift up to her father's office on the fifth floor. That was good, because it meant that there was nobody else in the elevator with them, but it was also bad because it meant that Penny was left alone with her thoughts, since Twilight wasn't saying very much.

Twilight seemed a little nervous, playing with the hem of her skirt with both hands, and Penny honestly couldn't blame her. She felt pretty nervous herself. This was the right thing to do, as Dad had pointed out to her, but that didn't make it easy. Especially since her father was not always an easy person to deal with, a fact made worse by the fact that she couldn't be sure which version of her father she was going to get: the one who had asserted his power over her, or the one who had listened with interest to her stories about her friends and her time at Beacon. Which one was in the lab today, which would she find when she walked through that door?

"Do you know what he's going to be like today?" Penny asked quietly.

Twilight looked at her, frowning a little behind her glasses. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I asked Moondancer to make sure that Doctor Polendina took his medication this morning, but whether or not he actually did … I don't know. I'm sorry, Penny, I just can't say for sure."

"I … I see," Penny murmured. "I suppose we'll just have to see then, won't we?"

The elevator door opened, and Penny stepped tentatively out into the grey metallic corridor. She looked around, half expecting to see her father waiting for her, but of course, it was not so: her father was in his lab, and the corridor was empty.

Penny found that she had clasped her hands together as she walked down the corridor towards her father’s lab.

She had been here before, many times. She’d been here as recently as yesterday, as part of the battery of tests that her father had put her through. But this time … this time felt different. This time, her steps felt heavier; this time, she felt an urge to turn around and walk the other way, to get back into the elevator, to go somewhere else.

But she’d have to live with it if she did, just like Dad said.

And so, her hands clasped together, rubbing them together as though she were washing them, Penny made her way towards the door.

She stopped in front of it. She was very still, completely and utterly still, as still as if she’d been powered down. She stood in front of the door and froze.

She felt Twilight’s hand upon her shoulder. “Penny?” she whispered.

Penny blinked. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

Twilight was silent for a moment, her mouth hanging open. “He … your father, he … I’m sorry, Penny.” She embraced her by both shoulders, pulling her in, so that Penny’s shoulder was resting upon her chest. “You don’t have to do this. Nobody will fault you if you don’t.”

“I will,” Penny replied. “I … I have to do this.”

Twilight hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Penny whispered. She hiccupped.

“Penny,” Twilight murmured reproachfully.

“I have to do this,” Penny insisted. “I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Twilight said gently, as she released Penny. “I’m right here. I know that that doesn’t mean that much to you, but I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” Penny said quietly.

She looked at the door and wished that she needed to breathe so that she could take a deep breath.

She had to be brave. She had to be brave like … brave like Sunset. All of her friends were brave, but Sunset had the particular kind of bravery that Penny felt she needed right now, the kind of bravery that acted like it wasn’t afraid of anything, the kind that could walk into a room like it owned it, the kind that could face down those who were much more powerful than you.

Penny remembered under Mountain Glenn, when Salem had appeared before them. Salem had ignored her; she hadn’t said anything to her, not specifically, not the way that she’d gone after Pyrrha or Ruby or Rainbow or Ciel. She hadn’t said anything to Penny, but Penny had been paralysed nonetheless. She hadn’t been able to move, able to fight, not even able to say anything. In her head … in her head, she’d seen herself being ripped apart, unable to cry out as her systems failed and her limbs were torn from her body.

Unable to help her friends as they cried out for her.

She’d seen herself a failure.

Penny hadn’t been able to respond to Salem, but Sunset had; even though it was Salem, Sunset hadn’t put up with it.

Penny felt that she could do with being that kind of brave right now.

But she didn’t know how to be brave like Sunset, so she would have to just try and be brave like herself and hope it was enough.

After all, wasn’t she doing this so that she could be herself?

Penny took a step forward, and the door slid open for her, revealing her father’s lab. Penny walked inside, with Twilight following quickly behind her.

Her father was standing at the table, gesticulating with one hand as he said something to Moondancer that Penny couldn’t make out.

“Father?” Penny said.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her, his eyes widening with surprise. “Penny,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you today. You’re not due in for any more tests.” He frowned. “Moondancer… is Penny—?”

“No, Doctor, she isn’t,” Moondancer said softly. She smiled. “Good morning, Penny.”

“Good morning, Moondancer,” Penny said. To her father, she said. “I actually came here to talk to you, Father.”

“Really?” Doctor Polendina asked. “Of course. Of course! Um, why don’t you, uh, why don’t you sit down over there? You too, Twilight, how are you? I wasn’t expecting you today either; I thought you had the day off.”

“I do, Doctor,” Twilight said, “but Penny asked me if I’d come with her.”

“Why?” Doctor Polendina asked. “Penny, you don’t need an escort to come and see your father.”

Don’t I? Penny thought. “Father … there’s something important that I need to talk to you about.”

“Sit down first, Penny,” Doctor Polendina said.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Penny said.

“Sit down, Penny,” Doctor Polendina commanded.

“No, Father,” Penny replied, more forcefully this time.

Doctor Polendina blinked rapidly. He breathed deeply in and out. One hand clenched into a fist. He looked down at it, and his fist unclenched again. He leaned back against the table, resting both hands upon it, fingers curling around it.

“Very well,” he said, his voice sounding brittle. “What’s this about? What did you want to say to me?”

Penny hesitated for a moment. “I … I want you to know,” she said, her voice faltering a little, “that I’m transferring to Beacon next year, after the Vytal Festival is over.”

Doctor Polendina stared at her. “'Transferring,'” he whispered. “Transferring to Beacon?”

“Yes,” Penny said, “that’s right.”

“You’ll leave Atlas?”

“Yes,” Penny replied. “At least, most of the time. I can come back for the holidays.”

“'Back for the holidays,'” Doctor Polendina repeated. He looked away, then looked back at Penny. “Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“Because I don’t belong to Atlas, or to you, or General Ironwood,” Penny said. “I’m myself, and I belong to myself, and I want to go to Beacon. I want to spend the next three years with my friends. I want … I want to go to the school that I want to go to. I want to be able to transfer like any other girl could. I want to be free.”

“Like any other girl could,” Doctor Polendina echoed her words. “Penny … Penny you’re not any other girl—”

“I’m not a machine,” Penny insisted.

“No, of course not, never that, but … you require maintenance—”

“Not all the time; I could come back to Atlas for that in between semesters?”

“And why would Atlas bother to maintain a unit from which they obtain no benefit?” Doctor Polendina demanded.

Penny gasped, and so did Twilight behind her. Even Moondancer looked a little shocked.

“Doctor,” Moondancer murmured.

“What?” Doctor Polendina snapped. “Moondancer, Twilight, don’t look at me that way! You know that I’m speaking the truth. You know that this isn’t a charity; we don’t do things out of the goodness of our hearts, and if you don’t know that already, then it’s high time you learned. Why would Atlas be content to spend large sums of lien on maintaining Penny when Penny isn’t working for Atlas?”

“Is that what you think, Father?” Penny asked, her voice trembling.

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does to me,” Penny replied. “Would you still want to work on me if I left?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Answer me, Father, please.”

“Of course I would!” Doctor Polendina shouted, so loud that Penny flinched from the volume in his voice. “Of course I would; do you think that I’d want to see you abandoned just because you’ve changed uniform? You … you are my…”

He approached her, kneeling down before her, reaching out towards her face, although he didn’t quite lay them on her. They remained a few inches away, squirming and wriggling, as though he wished to touch her but did not dare.

“You are my daughter, and my greatest creation. As a father and a scientist both, I could never turn my back on you. I want to see you become all that you can be, I want to see you fulfil the utmost limits of your potential; if it comes to a choice between you and Atlas, then Atlas can drop out of the sky for all I care, but Penny … it isn’t up to me. I don’t get to make these decisions; the men who hold the purse strings do, and those men don’t care about your potential or your choices. All they see is profit and loss, and your work, maintenance, repair if you need it, all of that will cost money, money in the loss column, money for which there is no return. Penny, if you walk away from Atlas, they’ll leave you to rot until you end up on a scrapheap.”

Penny looked into her father’s eyes. “I … I hadn’t thought about that,” she admitted. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Penny, for God’s sake, don’t be childish about this!” Doctor Polendina cried.

“What’s childish about wanting to walk my own path?” Penny asked.

“It’s childish to do something stupid out of nothing more than stubbornness and pride!” Doctor Polendina snapped.

“I’ll find a way,” Penny declared. “Maybe Ruby can help me with my maintenance, and if not, then we’ll find someone else who can, and if not that, then … then maybe I will end up on that scrapheap, but at least it will have been my choice, and no one else's.”

“Penny,” Doctor Polendina murmured. “This won’t be allowed to happen.”

“Will … will you … will you stop it?” Penny asked, the question that, of all questions, she most dreaded to ask and yet, at the same time, the question of all questions to which she needed to hear the answer.

Doctor Polendina did not respond. He turned his back on her, his white labcoat swirling about him a little as he turned, before he walked to the table in the centre of the lab and leaned heavily upon it, his arms spread out from his body, his back hunched, his head bowed.

“You want to go to Beacon?” he murmured.

“Yes,” Penny replied. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?” he asked. “Because of your friends? You could call them.”

“That’s not the same as being around them all the time,” Penny argued.

“You won’t be alone, your teammates—”

“They’re not the same either,” Penny said.

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment, although his breathing was heavy. Penny could hear it even though there were a few feet of distance between them.

“Father?” she asked, taking a step closer to him, and another.

“You want to go to Beacon?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Then you still want to be…” Doctor Polendina trailed off. “You still want to be a … you still want to be a…” He clicked his fingers. “Fighting, weapons, guns, swords, monsters, killer, what’s the word, damnit, why can’t I remember the word?”

“Huntress, Doctor?” Twilight suggested.

“Huntress, yes, huntress! Thank you, Twilight, huntress. You still mean to be a huntress, then?”

Penny nodded, even though her father couldn’t see that. “Yes. I still want to be a huntress. I still want to protect others and the world. I just don’t want to do it at Atlas.”

“And do you think that I am so enamoured of Atlesian white that it would make too much difference to me whether you fulfil your destiny in white and grey or in that ugly maroon with that cheque pattern?” Doctor Polendina asked. He paused, his voice becoming quieter. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Because … because you’re dying?” Penny whispered.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her once again. “Yes,” he confessed. “Yes, because I’m dying. You heard that?”

Penny nodded slowly. “I heard.”

“When you didn’t mention it, I hoped that maybe…” Doctor Polendina said. “I hoped that … I hoped … stupid of me. Foolish. Of course you heard. You heard everything else; why wouldn’t you have heard that? But you didn’t say anything.”

“I wasn’t sure what to say,” Penny admitted. “Do you … do you know how long you have left?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” Doctor Polendina replied. “But not too long.”

Penny raised her hands, clasping them together over her heart. “I … I’ll be sure to call you.”

Doctor Polendina laughed. “It’s alright, Penny, you don’t have to pretend to … to … you don’t have to pretend to … sentiment. Sentimentality, yes, that’s the word; you don’t have to pretend to sentimentality that you don’t possess, don’t have to pretend to emotions that you don’t feel. I didn’t create you because I wanted a daughter to hold my hand and comfort me when I was sick, any more than I wanted one I could walk down the aisle on her wedding day. What I wanted…”

“What you wanted was a legacy,” Penny murmured.

Doctor Polendina turned to look at her. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged. He frowned. “Twilight, Moondancer, you’re both well educated, and your faculties are still your own. There’s a … speech, recitation, what’s the word, speaking someone else’s words—”

“Quote, Doctor?” Moondancer guessed.

“Quote, yes, there’s a quote,” Doctor Polendina said, nodding quickly. “A quote, from an old Mistralian story, what is it, what I am thinking of, striving for perfection, a father’s advice, what is it—?”

“'Always be the best, the bravest,'” Penny said, “'and hold your head up high amongst the others.' It’s from the Mistraliad. Pyrrha told it to me.”

“Yes, I suppose Pyrrha Nikos would know it off by heart,” Doctor Polendina murmured. “That was … that is all that I want from you, Penny, to … to be the best. To be acclaimed and acknowledged and as the best. To have your greatness recognised, and through your greatness…” He did not say that, and through her greatness, his own would also be recognised, even in death, but Penny could guess that was the part he was not saying. “And you can do that as well in Beacon as you can in Atlas. You can be as well regarded at Beacon as you can in Atlas. All I ask is that you continue to strive for perfection, in the field and in the Vytal Festival.”

“I still want to be a huntress,” Penny said. “I’d just rather be one with my friends.”

“Then I have no objection,” Doctor Polendina said. “Although it was still very brave of you to come to me like this. You must have been worried that I would refuse, that I would set my face against it, that I would do all I could to prevent it.”

Penny glanced down. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I spoke to … to Pietro—”

“Pietro!” Doctor Polendina shouted. “You spoke to Pietro!” He sounded far more upset about that than he seemed to be about her plans to go to Beacon. “How d— how?”

“He called me,” Penny said.

“How does he have your number?”

“I … don’t know,” Penny said, but although she rushed to cover her mouth, she could not stop the hiccup.

Maybe Twilight can reprogram me so that I don’t do this any more. I should be allowed to lie if I want to.

Doctor Polendina scowled. “Penny.”

“Rainbow Dash gave it to him,” Penny admitted.

“Rainbow Dash needs to learn to mind her own business,” Doctor Polendina growled. “If you weren’t going to leave her next year, I’d demand she be tossed off your team — and out of Atlas too, maybe.”

“Why is that such a bad thing?” Penny asked. “Why is this what’s upsetting you?”

“Because my brother is weak and short-sighted and childishly naïve, and he doesn’t understand!” Doctor Polendina cried. “If you wish to pursue greatness at Beacon instead of Atlas, then I have no objection, one is as good as the other to my mind, but Pietro … I will not have you corrupted by his … his sentiment!”

“He loves you, Father.”

“Love? He betrayed me!”

“He was trying to—”

“Now is not the moment to discuss it, Penny,” Doctor Polendina declared firmly, his tone as heavy as a door slamming shut. “You have my consent to go, or seek to go, to Beacon; I suggest you content yourself with that.”

Penny wasn’t sure if he was actually saying that he would prevent her departure if she pressed him on the subject of his brother, but equally, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to find out either, and so, she bowed her head and murmured, “Yes, Father.”

Doctor Polendina closed his eyes. “Do you … do you really think that they will let you go? General Ironwood, the Council … do you think they’ll allow it?”

“Let me worry about that,” Penny told him. “I told you because … because I don’t want you to think that I just ran away, like last time. I want you to know where I went and why.”

Doctor Polendina was quiet for a moment. “I … I have no idea if this will happen, if it will be allowed, if … I have no idea if … I have no idea. But … I know that I haven’t been much of a father, nor do I think I have it in me to be, but … but for what it’s worth, you have my blessing. Just promise me that you’ll never stop trying to … to excel. Don’t settle for mediocrity, Penny, never that. That is the only thing that would destroy me, so please, promise me that you will not.”

“I … I promise, Father,” Penny replied, her voice soft and quiet but nevertheless seeming to echo in the laboratory. “I’ll do my best, always.”

Requesting Help (Rewritten)

Requesting Help

The scroll buzzed as she was getting back aboard the airship.

Rainbow ignored it until the doors to The Bus had closed behind her. She didn’t have to even get the device out to know that it wasn’t anybody she knew trying to reach her; she’d customised her ringtones — although obviously, she had to put them all on vibrate when she was out in the field — so that if any of her friends had been trying to get hold of her, it would have been playing a unique piece of music for each of them; if they’d been trying to get her as part of a group call, it would have been playing ‘Better Than Ever’; if the military had been trying to reach her in an emergency, a klaxon would have started to sound by now; and a call from Penny or Ciel would have been heralded by recordings of their voices.

Although it could be Blake on the other end of the line; Rainbow hadn’t set anything up for her yet.

But it was more likely that it was just someone she didn’t know trying to get hold of her.

Rainbow yawned as the scroll kept buzzing. She had spent the last night with Scootaloo, Applejack, Apple Bloom, Rarity, and Sweetie Belle doing the Annual Big Sister/Little Sister Camping Trip, because if they didn’t take this opportunity, they were going to miss a year — unless anyone fancied a camping trip in winter — and while it had been a ton of fun, nobody went camping to get a lot of sleep.

Don’t get her wrong, it had been great sitting out there in the woods, just chilling out with her honorary little sister and her friends, toasting marshmallows and eating hotdogs and telling stories … but it did leave her yawning now as she prepared to fly back to Atlas.

Rainbow got out her scroll. As she’d expected, it was an unknown number. She answered it anyway, tapping the green ‘accept call’ icon on the off-chance that it might be important.

If it was someone trying to sell her something, she could always hang up.

“Hey, Dash; long time no see.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened as she looked at the face that appeared on the screen before her: close-cropped white hair and golden eyes set in a sharp, angular face. “Gilda?”

“Surprised to see me, Dashie?” Gilda asked from out of the screen of Rainbow’s scroll. “I guess so, seeing as how you didn’t tell any of your human friends about me. I have to say: that hurt. I told everybody about you.”

“How did you get this number?” Rainbow demanded.

“I got it off your friend Fluttershy when she was…” Gilda hesitated.

“When you were holding her prisoner?” Rainbow suggested in a low growl.

“Don’t say it like that; it’s not like I hurt her,” Gilda replied. “Didn’t she tell you that I looked out for her and Applejack when they were down in Mountain Glenn?”

Fluttershy had mentioned that, as it happened, but that didn’t mean that Rainbow was particularly eager to give Gilda a lot of credit; after all, she’d only needed to protect Fluttershy and Applejack because the White Fang were holding them prisoner.

“You could have just let them go,” she muttered.

“We did,” Gilda reminded her.

“Fluttershy, maybe, but not Applejack,” Rainbow countered. “And from what Fluttershy said, that was more Adam’s doing than yours.”

“You think that I could release a high-value prisoner without Adam’s say so?” Gilda replied. “Come on, Dash, I’m a soldier, just like you, and just like you, I have a chain of command to follow. I did my best, and they were both safe in the end — they are both okay, aren’t they? I mean, I saw Applejack getting on that train with you, but—”

“Applejack is fine,” Rainbow told her. “And so is Fluttershy.”

“Then what are you complaining to me about?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Did you just call me to take credit for not being a complete jackass? Or to complain that I don’t talk about you enough? Or are you just upset that I never call you any more?”

“If I was mad about that, I’d have a right to be,” Gilda muttered. She paused for a moment. “But no, actually, I called you because … because I need your help.”

Rainbow couldn’t suppress the scoff, nor keep the incredulity out of her voice. “You want me to help you? After you … you’re in the White Fang, and you want me to do you a favour?”

“It isn’t for me,” Gilda said. “Listen, I know that we’re on the opposite sides … and maybe you don’t even like me anymore, I don’t know, but just hear me out, okay? For old times’ sake.”

Rainbow scowled as she walked into the cockpit and sat down in the pilot’s chair. I guess I don’t have to say yes once I’ve heard her out. “What is it?”

“I know that you’re back in Atlas—”

“How do you know that?” Rainbow demanded.

“Because I know you,” Gilda said. “Talking to Fluttershy made it clear that you haven’t changed since we were kids. You went through some stuff down in Mountain Glenn, but now that the semester is over, you went home to Atlas where you could hang out with your friends before the Vytal Festival and make yourself feel better.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend time with my friends,” Rainbow said defensively.

“I didn’t say there was,” Gilda said. “I’m glad that you’re in Atlas; you wouldn’t be any good to me in Vale.”

“Why not? What’s this about, G?” Rainbow demanded.

“People are disappearing in Low Town,” Gilda said. “No, before you ask, I’m not in Atlas, but unlike you, I kept in touch with a few people back in Low Town, and they called me because they couldn’t think of who else to turn to. People are disappearing; they’re being taken in the night.”

“'Taken'?” Rainbow frowned. “Taken by who?”

“Nobody knows,” Gilda said. “Nobody sees it happening.”

“Then how do they know these people are being taken?” Rainbow asked. “Maybe they’re just—”

“Running?” Gilda suggested. “Running where, Dashie? It’s a frozen tundra out there; don’t tell me you’ve been up in the clouds so long that you’ve forgotten what the ground is like.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Come on, you’re being ridiculous; we both know that you wouldn’t even have to leave Low Town to disappear; maybe they’re just … maybe they’re not happy with their parents or their wives or whatever, so they’re hiding out with friends or something.”

“Come on, Rainbow Dash, if it was that simple, people wouldn’t be calling me for help,” Gilda said. “And besides, it isn’t just people with reason to disappear; it’s people who were happy, who had good lives, or as good lives as you can get down in Low Town.”

“Other people thought they had good lives.”

“The local White Fang tried to do something about the disappearances,” Gilda said. “They organised a neighbourhood watch, lookouts on the streets, but the lookouts disappeared too; now does that sound like unhappy people running away from home?”

No, no it honestly didn’t. None of what Gilda had said was proof of foul play, but that last part came very close. “So you come to me,” Rainbow said. “Is this your way of trying to get me killed?”

Gilda rubbed her eyes, as though Rainbow wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night. “I’m gonna level with you, Rainbow: the White Fang in Atlas is … not the strongest. All the good fighters leave for places where it’s more of a fair fight. All that’s left are recruiters and punk kids and a few old-timers. It’s enough to scare off dealers or small time crooks, but if something bad is going down … it isn’t enough.”

That made sense. Even if the White Fang brought all of its strength to Atlas, there was no way that they could win a fight against the Atlesian military in its own home and the heart of its strength; that being the case, it made sense that all the tough guys left Atlas to go places where they might actually win an engagement.

“Has anybody called the police?” Rainbow asked.

Gilda rolled her eyes. “When were the police last interested in helping out the faunus?”

“That’s not fair.”

“You say it isn’t fair, I say it’s the truth, and the fact is that, even if the cops really wanted to help, nobody wants to talk to them,” Gilda said. “You remember what it was like: All Cops Are—”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Rainbow muttered. “So even if I talked to the cops, nobody would talk to them, is that it?”

“Nobody’s sure the cops aren’t the ones behind the disappearances,” Gilda said. She sighed. “Dash, you’re the only person I know who can take care of herself and… and who won’t ask me to give up intel in exchange for getting off your butt to do something about this.”

“How do you know I won’t?”

Gilda hesitated. “I guess I’m just hoping you won’t,” she said. “These used to be your people too, Dash. You may hang out with a bunch of fancy humans now, but you’re still one of us. This is your chance to give something back. To prove that you’re still one of the good guys.”

“I am one of the good guys!” Rainbow said indignantly. But there was no point in debating this with Gilda, especially not when people’s lives were at stake.

Like Gilda had said, these had been her people once.

Like Blake had told her, they were still her people.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

“Not that I know of,” Gilda replied.

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “I’ll go down there myself and see what I can do.”

“You mean you’ll help?”

“People are getting kidnapped; of course I’ll help,” Rainbow said sharply.

Gilda nodded. A grin spread across her face. “Good to see the old Rainbow Dash is still in there.”

“Will you get off that high horse and stop talking to me like I’m some kind of … forget it,” Dash said. She made to end the call, but something stopped her, held her thumb in place. “Hey, Gilda, can I ask you something?”

“What about?”

Rainbow hesitated, wondering how embarrassing this would be to ask. “Do your parents know that you’re in the White Fang?”

Gilda’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

“Because I wrote to my parents—”

“Really?” Gilda asked. “You wrote to your parents?”

“Shut up,” Rainbow snapped. “The point is that I told them you were in management, and I’m going to look pretty stupid if my folks have already found out from your folks what you really do.”

Gilda paused for a moment. “'Management,' huh?” she said, smiling as she mimed adjusting a non-existent collar and tie with one hand. “That … that’s pretty cool, Rainbow Dash, thanks.”

“So that’s a no, then?”

“I told my parents I work construction in Vale,” Gilda said. “I’ll have to tell them that I got a big promotion the next time I write. How come?”

“How come you got a promotion?” Rainbow asked. “I don’t know; it’s your fake career, you figure it out.”

“How come you didn’t tell your parents the truth?” Gilda demanded.

“Why would I?” asked Rainbow. “I’ll kill you if I have to, but there’s no reason I have to embarrass you first.”

Gilda chuckled. “I appreciate that, Dash, and I appreciate you looking into this stuff in Low Town even more.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Rainbow told her.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Gilda said. “Good hunting.” She hung up.

Rainbow stared at the blank screen for a moment before she folded up her scroll.

Well, I guess I know what I’m doing today.

I wonder how Blake’s feeling?

Rainbow probably shouldn’t approach Blake with this; she’d come to Atlas for a rest, after all, not a busman’s holiday. Fluttershy would undoubtedly have words when Rainbow showed up at her house, asking to take Blake out on a sort-of mission. But Rainbow could use the help, and it wasn’t as though there were any better choices; Ciel was in Mantle, and the arguments against disturbing Blake applied to her and to Applejack as well — they’d all been through a lot, and they all deserved a break; Rainbow really didn’t want to drag Applejack away from her family after she’d only just returned to them. Penny would jump at the chance if Rainbow asked, but if Doctor Polendina found out, then he’d kill Rainbow’s career — or just kill Rainbow, depending on how he was feeling — and, to be honest, Low Town wasn’t exactly the kind of place for a nice girl like Penny.

Not to mention that all of the above had the disadvantage of being human — or looking human, in Penny’s case — while a faunus, especially a faunus of Blake’s background, would be a lot more help in finding out what was going on beneath the shadow of Atlas.

She doesn’t have to fight. She can just help me ask questions, talk to people, and I’ll break any heads we have to when we find out who’s responsible.

She doesn’t even have to come if she doesn’t want to.

But she’ll absolutely want to. With her sense of justice, she’d want to pitch in even if she was bleeding from a half-dozen bullet holes.

Rainbow put her scroll away and started her pre-flight checks.

“Sir,” Winter’s voice came in loud and clear over the comms. “We have Rainbow Dash on the line; she’s requesting to speak with you.”

Glad of the break, Ironwood minimised the report he’d been looking at — Captain Ebi was an exceptional huntsman, but he went through airships at a rate that was approaching ridiculous — and said, “Put her through to my office, Schnee; thank you.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Winter replied.

Ironwood was a little surprised when Rainbow’s face didn’t appear on the screen, projected up from his desk. However, he still heard her voice as clearly as if she were in the room with him.

“Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, sir.”

“Not at all, Dash; it’s good to hear your voice,” Ironwood said. “How are things up there?”

Dash was quiet for a moment. “It’s … been a bit of a mixed bag, I’m afraid, sir. I’m not sure Ciel’s doing too good.”

Ironwood frowned. He had always thought Soleil was the least likely member of Team RSPT to allow anything to get to her. “Cause?”

“Family trouble, sir; I’m not sure it’s my place to say more,” Dash replied. “Not to mention, we had a run in with the Happy Huntresses.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Ironwood said.

“No, sir,” Dash said. “Well, the guy they shot was more than hurt, but he wasn’t one of us, and he had it coming.”

Ironwood’s eyes narrowed, for all that he knew Dash couldn’t see it. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing at the scene of a murder committed by the Happy Huntresses, Dash?”

“We were trying to apprehend a murderer, sir — not the Happy Huntresses, the guy they shot — but it, well, it’s fair to say things didn’t quite work out.”

“I think you owe me a report on this, Dash,” Ironwood said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else?”

“Penny’s back on her feet if you want some better news, sir,” Dash said, her tone brightening. “I’ve got something to talk to you about regarding Penny, but I’d rather discuss it in person.”

“Speaking of which, is there a reason I can’t see your face right now?”

“I’m flying, sir,” Dash answered. “Just had a weekend pass in Canterlot.”

“I see. How’s Scootaloo?”

“Very well, sir; thank you for asking.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ironwood said. “And Belladonna?”

“Settling in nicely, sir; I think we’ve got her hooked,” Dash declared. “Not that she’s a fish. Or that I’m scamming her. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, Dash, and that’s good news,” Ironwood replied. “Atlas can use all the good men it can get, and huntresses like Belladonna are hard to come by. Now, did you call me just to catch up, or is there something I should know?”

“I’d like your permission to investigate some disappearances in Low Town, sir,” Dash said. “Faunus have been going missing, and I’d like to look into it.”

Ironwood frowned. “I haven’t heard anything about that.”

“Probably because it’s happening in Low Town, sir.”

“Then how did you hear about it, Dash?”

Dash hesitated. “Anonymous tip, sir?”

“Dash.”

“I’d really rather not say, sir,” Dash said. “But I trust the source.”

“And I trust you, Dash,” Ironwood murmured. “But if this is happening, why hasn’t it come to notice through any official channels; why hasn’t it been reported?”

“Because I’m sad to say that nobody trusts the authorities down there, sir,” Dash said. “Even if the police tried to investigate, people wouldn’t talk to them.”

“But they’ll talk to you,” Ironwood said. “Because you used to live there?”

“If they talk to me, sir, it won’t be because I used to live there,” Dash replied. “But I’m hoping they’ll look past that and talk to me because I’m a faunus. And I know the area, or at least I used to, which is more than anyone else who could look into this could say. And I was asked to handle this personally, and I gave my word that I would; I can’t just hand this off to someone else, especially when that someone might be busy, or not care, or have other things to pay attention to.” Dash paused. “And … may I speak freely, sir?”

“Go ahead, Dash.”

“If you trust me to fight Salem, I don’t see why you can’t trust me to investigate some disappearances,” Dash said.

Ironwood let out a small chuckle. “How can I argue with that? Okay, Dash, you can take the lead on this; anyone gives you any trouble, tell them to contact me. However, if your investigation turns up anything, I expect you to pass it back up to me before you act on your intel, understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“And I hope you’re not thinking of taking this on by yourself,” Ironwood added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’m on my way to get my backup right now.”

Weiss stood in her room with Myrtenaster drawn.

She had pushed the four-poster bed aside, and the dressing table and the little bench that sat in front of the bed, creating an open space on the pristine floor with its reflective blue tiles where she could practice her blade work.

She would not conjure glyphs, not right now. It might come later, but for now, she would only practice with the blade, practicing her stances.

She stood nearly against the wall, her rapier raised in a high guard, her free hand held out before her, pointing at a target she could see only in her mind’s eye.

She stepped forward, lunging with Myrtenaster, the tip of her blade gleaming in the light that streamed in from the window.

Weiss turned, spinning on her toe with the elegance and grace of a ballerina, slashing swiftly before raising her blade in another guard, her sword arm raised across her neck, Myrtenaster held at eye-level.

She lunged again, spun again, and was about to turn to face another imaginary opponent coming in on her flank when she saw that her door had been opened.

Whitley stood in the doorway, lounging against the door frame.

“Whitley!” Weiss squawked in surprise as she came to a stop. “What are you doing in here?”

“The door wasn’t locked,” Whitley observed.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have some expectation of privacy!” Weiss declared.

Whitley raised one eyebrow. “Were you doing something that required privacy?”

Weiss lowered Myrtenaster. “I’m not sure what Father would say about me practicing inside the house.”

“If you think that Father will respect your privacy, then you’ve been away for too long,” Whitley observed. “And you do need to learn to lock the door.” He paused for a moment. “But your secret’s safe with me.”

Weiss took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Was there something that you wanted?”

“Klein would like to see you downstairs, in the kitchen,” Whitley said.

Weiss frowned. “Klein would like to see me?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Since when do you deliver messages for Klein?”

Whitley rolled his eyes. “Just come down to the kitchen, won’t you? It might be important.”

“'Might be'?”

“Will you just come and see for yourself?” Whitley asked. “It will be easier than me trying to explain … well, I’m not sure that I could explain. I promise, you’ll be able to get back to flicking your sword around very soon. Probably.”

Weiss hesitated, but she was … somewhat intrigued by what had brought about this turn of events. It wasn’t usual for Whitley to run errands for the butler — the butler was supposed to serve them, not the other way around — and it wasn’t usual for Klein to summon her down to the kitchen either. She might visit him there, from time to time, but if Klein desperately wanted to talk to her, then there was no reason he couldn’t have come to find her in her room.

What was it that was down there, that Whitley couldn’t explain?

The only way to sate her curiosity was to actually go down to the kitchen to find out, so Weiss put Myrtenaster back in its wooden case with the glass lid and walked towards the door.

Whitley led the way, although Weiss could have found the way well enough without his assistance.

The Schnee Manor was spacious, absurdly so, with corridors that had been built for people on average ten to twelve feet tall — or so it seemed from the scale of the building — while the halls seemed made for people even larger still. Weiss was … not the tallest of girls, and Whitley was more or less of a height with her, so they were both dwarfed by the grand scale of the house in which they lived. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all a cool, almost icy blue, which gave the house a cold and almost sterile air. There was very little in way of decoration on the walls, no family portraits, no old masters, no paintings expensively acquired from the great artists of the day; only some giant suits of armour — nearing twenty feet in height, she thought, far too large for any living man to wear — standing on either side of the grand staircase, and a sculpture of a king taijitu, carved out of white marble, sitting in the centre of the hall.

It was a large house, and a quiet one too; in all this entire mansion, in all these hundreds of rooms, in this place that was as large as a small town, only Weiss, Whitley, her parents, and Klein lived — there were some other staff who worked occasionally, but none of them dwelt here, and there were certainly not enough of them to fill out this house.

This enormous space was largely empty, and being empty, it was largely silent; the footsteps of Weiss and Whitley echoed in the vast corridors, reverberating back at them in the absence of all other sounds.

Weiss remembered Laberna telling her that this house had rung with laughter and good cheer in her grandfather’s day … but that was a long time ago now, and just as long passed. Silence ruled here now.

The House of Schnee resembled more a tomb than the home of a living family.

But then, we never were much of a family, were we?

Below stairs, things felt slightly warmer, not least because the décor was different; white, such as tiled the kitchen walls, was not necessarily warmer than royal blue, but it felt warmer, although perhaps that was nothing more than Weiss’ imagination supplying things that were not strictly there, but which felt true.

It was warmer below stairs, not least for Klein’s presence.

Klein was in the kitchen as Weiss and Whitley entered, and so too, sitting at the white table which sat in the centre of the kitchen, was a young girl, a faunus with reddish-brown hair and raccoon ears, dressed in ragged homespun clothes, eating a cookie.

Eating it messily, with crumbs accumulating on both sides of her mouth.

Eating it ravenously, cramming it into her mouth as though she were afraid it would be snatched away from her at any moment.

She swallowed the last of the cookie and then grabbed the cup of some hot drink — it was steaming, but Weiss couldn’t make out what was inside — and swallowed a great draught of it.

“Careful,” Klein admonished her, although the reproach was undercut by the amusement in his voice. “We don’t want you to choke now, do we?”

The little girl put down the cup, and was about to grab for another cookie — a plate of them sat on the table — when she saw Weiss, and Whitley behind her.

She gasped. “M-Miss Winter?”

“No,” Weiss said. “I’m her younger sister, Weiss.”

“As I told you, child, Miss Winter doesn’t live here any more,” Klein said.

“Do you know how to reach her?” the little girl asked.

“We do,” Weiss allowed. “But she’s in Vale at the moment.”

“But I hope that Miss Weiss may be able to help you,” Klein added, turning away from the girl to look at Weiss.

Weiss raised one curious eyebrow.

“This young lady,” Klein said, “has come a very long way at great difficulty to be here, Miss Weiss. I would take it as a personal favour to me if you would hear her out.”

Weiss was silent for a moment, looking down at the girl in front of her. The way that she ate, the speed with which she ate … this was someone poor and hungry. The way she dressed, and unfortunately her race, they combined to make her stick out as someone who did not belong in the Schnee Manor.

But then, considering the state of the Schnee Manor, that might be something of a compliment.

She smiled; even if it was rather a public smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she hoped it would put the girl at ease. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Weiss Schnee. You wanted to see my sister, Winter?”

The girl nodded silently.

“I’m sorry that isn’t possible,” Weiss said. “But if you’d like to tell me your business, perhaps there is something that I or Klein or my brother can do to help instead.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you’re the only one who can likely do anything in this situation,” Whitley murmured.

Weiss ignored that, even as she wondered at it. To the girl, she said, “Would you like to tell me why you’re here?”

The girl hesitated for a moment, before words began to pour out of her in a great flood. “My older sister’s missing,” she said. “She disappeared the night before last, the same way that all the people are disappearing lately. Nobody knows where she is, nobody knows where any of them are, and the police aren’t interested, but my grandma said that Miss Winter would be able to help us. She said Miss Winter was a good person, who’d listen to me. Are you sure that she isn’t here?”

“Your grandmother,” Weiss murmured. “What’s her name?”

“Uh, Laberna Seacole.”

Weiss leaned back in her seat. Of course that’s who it is. Laberna Seacole had been their nanny when Weiss was a girl; with Mother and Father both busy with the work of the company and their position in Atlas society, the task of raising the children had often fallen on Klein and Laberna. She’d been dismissed when Weiss was nine — when Whitley was six years old, Father had decided that the children were too old to need a nanny to look after them — but Weiss still had many pleasant memories of the old woman: her patience, her encouragement, her wisdom.

In more recent years, she had found herself wondering — as she sometimes found herself wondering about Klein — how much of the affection she had received from Laberna had been because the old woman had been paid to bestow it upon her. There was no way to find out for sure, and to be honest, Weiss had come to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter: even if Laberna had only said what Weiss wanted to hear, it didn’t change the fact that she had given Weiss what she needed, when she needed it. Even if she’d just been doing her job, that didn’t change the fact that she had been a great help to Weiss in some rather troubled times.

And now her granddaughter was missing, and she was asking them for help. Well, technically, she was asking Winter for help, but Winter wasn’t here, and she wasn’t exactly able to leave her post in Vale and return to Atlas.

Now she understood what Whitley meant when he said that she was the only one who could do anything about this. It wasn’t as if her brother, untrained, bereft of the Schnee semblance, without even his aura unlocked, was going to be able to investigate disappearances in … whatever poor part of Atlas this girl had come from.

And Klein … Klein was a first rate butler, but he was not a warrior.

No, there was only Weiss.

The possibility that this was all some kind of elaborate trap did not escape Weiss’ mind; after all, she had no way of knowing that this girl really was the granddaughter of her old nanny, or that the old woman really had sent for her. This might have been a way to lure her out to grab her, although that would require them to know that she was here and Winter wasn’t. It was a possibility but somehow … somehow, she didn’t think it was a likely one.

From the way that he was looking at her, his eyes shining with hope, it seemed that Klein didn’t think it a likely possibility either. He had been close with Laberna, Weiss remembered; the two of them had understood each other, shared similar burdens, shared — she hoped — an affection for their Schnee charges.

He, it seemed, believed the girl, even if only because he wished to.

“It’s rather an absurd story to invent if it were not the truth, don’t you think?” Whitley said softly.

“It is true!” the Seacole girl insisted.

“I believe you,” Whitley assured her. “As I just said to my sister.”

He had a point, to be sure. What were the odds that some faunus girl, wholly unconnected with Laberna Seacole, would know that she had been employed by the Schnees, and would make their way to Schnee Manor, sneak inside and spin a yarn about needing assistance without it being true? What were the odds that any faunus girl unconnected with Laberna Seacole would expect any assistance from a Schnee? It was not as though their name was in good odour with the faunus at the moment.

It had to be true, because it was too improbable to be anything else.

“If you’d told me,” Weiss said, “I would have brought Myrtenaster down with me.” She looked down at herself, dressed in a gown of royal blue that reached all the way down to the floor. “Although perhaps I should change into something more suitable,” she added dryly.

To the Seacole girl, Weiss said, “I’m sorry that my sister Winter isn’t here at the moment, but I am a huntress of Beacon Academy, and I am going to assist you in my sister’s stead.”

It was the only thing she could do for Laberna Seacole.

Alright, it wasn’t the only thing she could do; she could — perhaps — have waved the Schnee name like a banner and forced the police to take notice of this disappearance. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to get out of this house, she wanted to do something useful and helpful, she wanted to be a huntress. She wanted to be a huntress, and there were people in need of her assistance, so why should she not — how could she not — leave the house and provide the help that they required and had requested of her?

“Klein,” she said, “will you keep our guest comfortable until I’m ready to leave?”

Klein smiled. “Of course, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss smiled back and turned around to see Whitley standing behind her with a bit of a smirk on his face.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s funny,” Whitley said. “You’re undoubtedly being incredibly foolish, and yet, at the same time, I find I rather admire you for it. Try not to die, won’t you?”

It occurred to her that Whitley’s words to her upon arriving at the house might not have been as hostile as they had seemed; that he might, in a very poorly worded way, have been trying to express concern for her.

“I’ll do my best,” she said in reply.

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone who could go with you?” Whitley asked. “Someone suitable for this sort of thing, some durable barbarian who can, what’s the phrase, 'watch your back'?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know any durable barbarians,” Weiss said. “But as for company, I think I know just the person.”

She walked out of the kitchen — Whitley made way for her — and as she walked up the stairs towards the ground floor, Weiss got out her scroll.

It took only a moment for her to find the number that she was looking for, and only a moment more for him to answer.

“Hey Weiss, what’s up?”

“Flash, good morning,” Weiss said. “I’m afraid … this might sound sudden, but are you free at the moment? There’s something that I need your help with.”

“The First Councillor of Vale, Aspen Emerald, and the Mistralian Ambassador to Vale jointly announced that Vale and Mistral had agreed the purchase of two Mistralian battleships. However, sources in the Atlesian military cast down on the air-worthiness of the two ships and whether they could be made ready for service in more than a matter of months.”

“Turn that off, won’t you dear?” Mrs. Breeze said, looking up from watering one of her houseplants.

Mr. Breeze got up from his armchair and walked across the living room towards the radio. He paused, one hand hovering over the off-switch, before he turned to Blake. “Unless you’re listening to it, Blake?”

Blake shook her head. “No,” she assured him. “It’s fine.” She might have been content to listen to it further, but she was a guest in their home and had no desire to throw her weight around.

Mr. Breeze smiled at her and switched off the radio.

“It’s nothing but grim news at the moment, it seems,” Mrs. Breeze said. She was a middle-aged woman, a little taller than her daughter but more or less of a height with Blake herself, with maroon hair worn in a wide bun that emerged out past either side of her head. Square green spectacles surrounded her cerise eyes, and she wore a summer dress of daffodil yellow with a daisy print and a pearl necklace clasped tight around her throat. “Ever since that terrible business in Vale.”

“I don’t know,” Fluttershy said, from where she sat on the sofa next to Blake, her legs tucked up underneath her, cradling a fussy white bunny rabbit in her hands, seeming oblivious to all its attempts to escape her grasp. “I thought the news about the Vytal Festival was pretty good. Or at least, it could have been a lot worse.”

“I suppose,” Mrs. Breeze acknowledged. “Although the fact that they had to assure everyone that the festival would go ahead and be safe … well, it’s hardly ideal, is it?”

“That sort of thing used to be a given, after all,” Mr. Breeze added. He was taller than his wife, or indeed Blake, and seemed to cultivate a resemblance to Jacques Schnee, with his white hair and his thin, pencil moustache; it had honestly been a little disconcerting when Blake had seen him first, but thankfully, his dress made it easy to remember that he was not, in fact, Jacques Schnee.

She doubted Jacques Schnee wore ill-fitting jumpers that seemed to be on the cusp of shedding on the floor.

“True,” Blake admitted. “But I’m sure General Ironwood will keep everything under control.”

“Mmm,” Mister Breeze said, with less enthusiasm than Blake had expected.

Mrs. Breeze shook her head as she moved on to another of the many plants that filled the living room. “I just feel like Remnant is going backwards; Vale is buying new weapons, and Mistral is going to re-arm? Is everywhere going to become just like Atlas?”

“'Just like Atlas'?” Blake repeated. “Forgive me, but you make that sound like a bad thing.”

“Mom and Dad are Vytalists,” Fluttershy murmured. “They believe that Atlas should have disarmed after the Great War, like every other kingdom.”

Blake blinked. She kept her voice soft as she said, “That’s a thing?”

“That was the intent of the Vytal Treaty,” Mr. Breeze declared. “That every country would step down their militaries and disarm. Instead, Atlas has allowed every other kingdom to disarm while increasing its own military power. And then we wonder why people don’t trust us.”

Blake frowned. The argument made logical sense, she supposed, but she wasn’t so convinced that it made practical sense. “But … the threat of the grimm—”

“Is why the huntsman academies were founded,” Mr. Breeze pointed out. “We’re not naïve, and being sheltered safe in Atlas hasn’t made us blind; we just believe that if every other kingdom can manage, why can’t Atlas?”

“Every other kingdom manages because they can call on the assistance of Atlas, perhaps,” Blake said softly. “I have to say, this isn’t an attitude that I expected to find in Atlas, especially not from the parents of one of Rainbow’s friends.”

“I don’t entirely agree,” Fluttershy admitted, while the bunny squirmed and wriggled under her hand. Fluttershy continued to stroke and pet it regardless. “I think … well, I don’t know if I could express it myself, but Rainbow makes a good point about why Atlas does what it does.”

“And we would never suggest that Rainbow or the others have anything but the best intentions,” Mrs. Breeze added. “Or you for that matter.”

“Your courage must be tremendous, however wrongheaded the system you’re a part of,” Mr. Breeze said.

“I … see,” Blake murmured. Rather than argue their attitudes — she was, after all, a guest in their home — she asked, “Are there many of you? Vytalists?”

“Not too many,” Mr. Breeze admitted. “Not none, but not many. It’s not a club, you understand; we don’t all get together on weekends,” he chuckled, “But we do tend to vote for Vytalist candidates. Not that they win. It’s not a terribly popular attitude around here.”

“Not that it causes us any trouble,” Mrs. Breeze hastened to add.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Blake replied.

While she was not inherently opposed to persecuting people for their views — some views, after all, were vile and deserved to be stamped out of society by any means necessary — she didn’t believe that the Vytalism of Fluttershy’s parents fell into category. One kooky idea didn’t change the fact that they had been, throughout Fluttershy’s stay so far, perfectly nice people.

“Anyway,” Mr. Breeze said. “Who wants lunch? Fluttershy? Blake?”

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Mr. Breeze said as he left the living room and walked into the hall. Blake couldn’t see him, and didn’t try to see him there; rather, she looked at the bunny in Fluttershy’s arms, which was presently giving her the evil eye.

Or at least, that’s what it seemed like; it probably wasn’t actually that, because it was a rabbit at the end of the day, but it certainly seemed to be glaring at her as though she had caused grave personal offence.

Blake heard the front door open.

“Oh, hello, Rainbow Dash,” Mr. Breeze said.

“Good morning, sir,” Rainbow said. “Sorry to drop by unannounced like this, but can I come in? I need to talk to Blake.”

“Of course,” Mister Breeze said. “Come right in.”

Blake looked around as Rainbow walked into the living room. It didn’t escape her notice that Rainbow was armed.

“Rainbow? Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Morning, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “Hey Fluttershy.”

“Morning, Rainbow Dash,” Mrs. Breeze said. “How was Canterlot?”

Rainbow grinned. “The same as always; I had a great time with Scootaloo and the girls, thanks for asking.” At last, she looked at Blake. “Hey, Blake.”

“Hey,” Blake replied. “Is everything okay?”

Rainbow squirmed a little bit. “I … ma’am, can I talk to Blake in private for a second? I’m sorry, but—”

“It’s fine, dear; I needed some more water anyway,” Mrs. Breeze said, as she got up and carried her watering can out into the kitchen.

Fluttershy, on the other hand, did not get up.

“What’s going on, Rainbow?” she asked softly.

Rainbow kept her eyes on Blake. “I need your help with something,” she said.

“Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy said, her voice sharp with reproach. “You know that Blake is here to rest, not to fight.”

“How do you even know that this has anything to do with fighting?” Rainbow asked.

“Because you wouldn’t be asking for Blake’s help specifically if it weren’t,” Fluttershy pointed out.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “Okay, you’ve got me there; it may have something to do with some action,” she admitted. “But this is all your fault anyway, because you gave Gilda my number.”

“I am sitting right here, you know,” Blake pointed out. “There’s no need to talk over me like I’m a child.”

Rainbow winced. “Sorry.”

“Gilda called you?” Fluttershy said. She smiled. “Oh, I’m so glad. Did you two manage to work things out?”

“Not really?” Rainbow said uncertainly. “I mean we don’t hate each other, but I wouldn’t call us friends. Anyway, the point is that she didn’t call to make up; she called to ask for my help. Faunus are disappearing down in Low Town — that’s underneath Atlas in the crater — and it sounds as though it could be abduction. Some friends of Gilda asked her to do something about it, and since she’s in Vale, she asked me to do something about it.”

“How does Gilda know that you’re not in Vale?” asked Blake.

“Because I’m really predictable, apparently,” Rainbow muttered. “The point is that I said I’d look into it and…” She sighed. “I know that you’re not here to fight, and I know that I shouldn’t be asking you, and if you say no that’s fine, but … there’s no one who it would be okay for me to ask. Applejack and Ciel are here for a break as well, and they aren’t even here in Atlas, and anyway, this is faunus business so … I’d appreciate your help with this.”

A slight smile crossed Blake’s face. “How long have you known me, and you really think that I need a sales pitch when there are people in need?”

“No, I didn’t,” Rainbow admitted. “But I didn’t want you to think that I was taking you for granted.”

“Blake,” Fluttershy murmured. “Are you sure about this?”

Blake got to her feet. “It isn’t why I came to Atlas,” she admitted. “But if there are faunus in trouble, faunus who need help and protection, then I can’t just stand by and do nothing.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think … might it have anything to do with—?”

“Adam’s face?” Rainbow finished for her. “It crossed my mind, but this sounds like something new. If the SDC had been abducting faunus from under Low Town for years now, I would have heard something about it. But I grew up there, and I never knew anything like this when I was a kid. But I guess we’ll find out when we get down there.”

“Right,” Blake agreed. “So, when do we leave?”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Although the substance of this chapter is preserved, there are quite a few changes to accomodate alterations to the geography; there's a new scene between Rainbow and Ironwood, the scene with Weiss is rewritten to incorporate Klein and Whitley, and the scene between Rainbow and Blake is rewritten complete.

Black and White (Rewritten)

Black and White

Low Town was not the nicest place in Atlas.

That almost felt like an overstatement to Rainbow Dash as she stood in the crater underneath Atlas for the first time in years. She hadn’t been back here for a while, but now that she was back, having parked The Bus on the flat ground just beyond the crater and walked with Blake the rest of the way, she found that her old home was coming back to her like a song.

A song that, while it didn’t compare to the sweeping grandeur of the number that was Atlas, was nevertheless not so bad as she remembered it.

Don’t get her wrong, Low Town was still not the nicest place in all of Atlas; in fact, it was definitely amongst the worst places in Atlas, and she only had to come back here to remember why. Atlas sat directly overhead, and not even that high either, kind of … not low exactly, maybe, but low enough that, combined with the crater walls that rose around Low Town on every side, it did a pretty good job of blocking out the sun. Low Town dwelt in perpetual twilight, an endless gloom blanketing these streets and houses, interrupted only by the true and absolute darkness of night. Atlas and the crater did combine to protect Low Town from the worst of the weather, no rain or snow fell directly down upon them, and they were protected from the worst blasts of tundra wind, but at the same time, it did rain in Low Town because water from Atlas drained down off the edges of the city to fall on the faunus settlement below.

The houses were cold, she remembered that from growing up; Low Town had a heating grid, which was the reason people could live here instead of freezing to death, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a cold and draughty place to live. The houses were … not very well-built; the ones around her now, the ones that lined the street down which Rainbow and Blake walked, they were put together out of breeze block and brick, with corrugated iron roofs and plywood fronts; a lot of them had been put together by the same people who lived in them, or by their parents or grandparents, and to say that they weren’t well-insulated was a bit of an understatement. Rainbow remembered having to run on the spot before bed so that she could warm herself up before leaping under the covers, curling up beneath the blanket, and hoping that she fell asleep before she cooled down again.

As they walked down the street, Rainbow could see that many of the windows had frost on the inside of the glass, a sign of the extent to which the cold crept in through doors and windows and inadequate walls.

The streets were plain dirt, earth flattened enough to be walked across without stumbling, although in the centre of the road, more corrugated iron and wooden boards had been laid out to ensure a surface that you wouldn’t sink into if a lot of water fell from Atlas.

Fires burned in metal drums upon the street corners, burning dust to keep the gloom at bay, casting flickering shadows upon the walls of the nearby houses, reflecting dimly upon the metal of the external taps — external taps! Some of these places didn’t even have indoor plumbing.

Yeah, it was not the best place in all of Atlas. Rainbow didn’t regret leaving here for a second. There wasn’t really anything about Low Town that she could say she missed. She didn’t miss how cold it got at nights, she didn’t miss the fact that it was never really warm, she didn’t miss the fact that the pipes were always freezing up or bursting, she didn’t miss the fact that the boiler didn’t work half the time, she didn’t miss the fact that their power was always getting cut off. She didn’t miss a thing, and she didn’t regret leaving.

Although she was starting to regret having left and not looked back, without a care for all the other people for whom living here hadn’t been a barrel of laughs either.

And as she walked down the street, Rainbow had to admit that there were a few things about Low Town that she had forgotten.

Mostly how clean it was. After just coming back from Mantle, which was filthy and only getting filthier, it was kind of a shock to Rainbow to rediscover that Low Town was so well taken care of. Those plywood fronts that folks had put up to cover the breeze block and brick frontages of their houses and stores, they were all painted in vibrant colours of red, yellow, blue, or green; some of them, and Rainbow guessed that these were the homes of families with children, didn’t have fronts painted in a single colour but collages, or patterns, works of art where kids had clearly been told to go nuts and decorate their home however they liked. They weren’t always good, but they always seemed to show a great deal of enthusiasm. And they were clean too; someone — many someones — had clearly worked hard keeping the dirt and the grime at bay. And Rainbow didn’t think it was a coincidence that while some of the bare walls, the sides or the rears, had graffiti on them, none of the painted fronts had been vandalised, and even the graffiti, while it might have been regarded as an eyesore in Atlas, had, in Low Town, a certain charm about it.

Possibly because the paint was luminous, and so, it gave off a kind of eerie glow in the darkness that was honestly pretty cool.

And while the insides of the windows were iced up, people had scratched patterns in the ice: snowflakes — although not the Schnee snowflake, obviously — stick figures, animals, grimm faces. Rainbow remembered doing that when she woke up, the same way that she remembered cleaning the sign above the shop door or helping Dad sweep up out front each morning.

It wasn’t a good life here, but people had tried to make the best of it, and it seemed like they were still trying now.

Judging by the thunderous look on Blake’s face, the way her ears were drooped down into her hair, the way her golden eyes were blazing especially bright in the permanent twilight, Rainbow thought it was safe to say she wasn’t feeling the same way.

“How?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the quiet. “How … how can people be left to live like this? With so much wealth so close by, how can this … how can it be justified?”

Rainbow didn’t have a good answer to that, and so she didn’t bother to give a bad one. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her dark blue sports jacket and said nothing.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “This … this is where you grew up?”

Rainbow shrugged, as best she could while wearing the Wings of Harmony strapped across her back and chest. “Born and raised,” she said.

“Then how…?” Blake trailed off for a moment. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, it bothers me, though … only really since I met you. Before that, and even after I met you, until more recently … I got out. I got out, and I didn’t look back, and I guess I told myself that that meant that anyone could get out if they wanted to. If they were willing to work hard and make the effort. Kind of insulting to everyone stuck down here, huh?”

“A little bit,” Blake murmured. “And now?”

“Now…” Rainbow said. “Now … I know it isn’t right, and I know that something has to be done, I just… I don’t know what yet. Maybe…”

“'Maybe'?”

“I don’t know, but we don’t really need the farmland up in Atlas,” Rainbow said. “Most of what we eat is grown in the domes on the ground or in the west, or shipped up from Mistral; we could build on the Atlas farmland, put more houses in, homes for the people who live here, and it’s not like Atlas would starve. I’m not sure people would even notice.”

“There’s some bad history around forcing faunus to leave their homes and move somewhere else,” Blake pointed out.

“I’m not talking about forcing anyone,” Rainbow replied. “They’d be given a choice. I just can’t imagine why anyone would choose not to move. Why would you want to live here when you could live in Atlas?”

“That’s a fair point,” Blake said. “But how would you make sure that those new homes went to the people down here in Low Town and didn’t get bought up by the people already living in Atlas?”

Rainbow opened her mouth, but no words came out. Blake made a good point: it wasn’t just about there being room in Atlas; it was about the people in Low Town being able to afford to move up there. “I guess … I guess the kingdom itself would have to build the homes and price them affordably.”

“Or not sell them at all, but give them to those who need them,” Blake suggested.

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds kind of radical.”

“Giving homes to those who have nowhere decent to live is radical?”

“It is if they aren’t paying for it.”

“Don’t you think they’re already paying for it with every day they have to live down here, like this?” Blake demanded. “The fact is, I don’t believe that the faunus who live here are stuck down here because of a lack of space up in Atlas, and I don’t think that you believe it either. If that was all there was to it, then why is this a faunus community?”

Again, Rainbow had no good answer to that, although this time, she did venture to say, “Atlas isn’t perfect.”

“But it can be improved, I know. I’m not saying this to condemn it, I just…” Blake paused for a moment. “Just so long as you don’t accept this as something immutable, a status quo that can’t be upset.”

“Like I said: not since I met you,” Rainbow replied. “You … you’ve made me better on this stuff. I thought that I was going to change the way that you saw the world, but the truth is that you’ve changed the way I see things just as much. And together, I hope we can change places like this too.”

“By change, you mean—”

“Get rid of it, yeah,” Rainbow declared. “Move the people somewhere else. Because you’re right, it is … when Atlas is right up there … it’s wrong. I shouldn’t have had to sneak up to Atlas aboard a shuttle and happen to run into Twilight in order to get the chances that I did.”

“I’m a little surprised there was a way for you to get up to Atlas,” Blake observed.

“Where do you think any of the money comes from for this place?” Rainbow asked. “It’s the people who have jobs up in Atlas.”

“But they’re not allowed to live there.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed. “I’ve already talked to Councillor Cadence about it, but maybe after we’re done, we can think about some ways to get people out of here.” She paused for a moment. “But first, well, whoever is taking people is going to clear out Low Town all by themselves unless we stop them.”

“Right,” Blake agreed. “Any ideas?”

“I think I know where to start finding answers,” Rainbow said. “There’s a guy around here who knows everything. If he’s still alive.”

“'If'?”

“He was old when I was a kid,” Rainbow admitted. “But if he’s still around, he’ll know what’s up.”

She led Blake through the streets of Low Town, past the burning drums and the painted frontages, rattling over the corrugated iron or thumping on the boards that made up the roads.

They walked past signs asking people to please pick up their litter or dog muck, signs that seemed to be obeyed, judging by how empty of either the streets were. It was kind of weird; people here probably had less than the people who lived in Mantle, but they took much more care of it.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that weird.

They passed the place that Rainbow’s parents used to own, but it was a takeaway now, judging by the new sign above the door. Rainbow glanced at it as they went past, but she didn’t stop, and she didn’t say anything to Blake. What would have been the point? She was here to do a job, not get sentimental.

There wasn’t even anything to get sentimental about. So the store wasn’t there anymore, big whoop. Of course it wasn’t there anymore; who would have run it?

Rainbow brought Blake to Grampa’s, a bodega sitting at the back of a cul-de-sac on the far side of town from where they had landed. The name, Grampa’s Deli & Grocery, was painted in white upon a dark green background on a wooden board hung above the door, along with proclamations of the availability of sandwiches, breakfasts, cold cuts, and fresh meat.

On the outside of the shop window, someone had painted, in white, the words ‘HELP! I’M BEING HELD PRISONER AGAINST MY WILL!’

Blake frowned. “Should we—?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rainbow assured her. “It isn’t serious.”

“How—?” Blake began, but was interrupted as the door opened and Grampa Gruff emerged.

Grampa Gruff was old, and Rainbow meant old. He’d been old when she was a kid, and he hadn’t gotten any younger since. His skin was wrinkled and spotted with age, around his eyes were dark circles, and his cheeks drooped down in sagging jowls beneath his jawline. His hair remained dark, somehow, but while his eyebrows were thick and bushy, his hair was almost all gone, reduced to a tufty crown encircling his head, although most of his baldness was covered by the red fez he was wearing. One eye was dark, the other blind and milky; a scar descended towards that eye from his wrinkled forehead, then continued on beneath it down his sagging cheek. He was dressed in a long brown coat, with yellow bird claws emerging out of the sleeves instead of hands.

He walked out of the shop — a bell above the door announced his departure — and stared at the sign painted in the window.

“GALLUS!” he squawked. “Fetch a cloth!” He turned around and, for the first time, noticed Rainbow Dash and Blake.

“No!” he snapped, and then strode inside without another word.

Blake glanced at Rainbow, her eyebrows rising.

“Okay, so maybe I should have mentioned that I’m not very popular around here,” Rainbow conceded.

The door to the bodega opened again, and a young faunus, with blue wings emerging from out of the back of his outfit, emerged with a stained rag held in one hand. His hair was, for the most part, as blue as his wings, although it turned to yellow at the tips, and worn in spikes rising up above the forehead, while his eyes were a deeper ocean shade of blue. He was dressed in a chequered jacket over a puffer jacket over a white t-shirt — Rainbow didn’t blame him for layering up — and a pair of pants that looked warm but which, unfortunately, also looked as if they’d seen better days.

“Rainbow Dash, right?” he said, tossing the cloth between his hands.

“That’s right,” Rainbow said. “Gallus, right?”

“That’s me,” Gallus said. “Still here. I mean, who else would do this job?”

“Are you in any trouble?” Blake asked.

“Do I look like I’m in trouble?” Gallus asked. He paused. “Oh, wait, you’re serious! I mean yes, yes, I am in trouble; I’m in terrible trouble, and I really need a cute, quirky girl to—”

“No, he’s not in any trouble,” Rainbow said. “And how old are you, anyway?”

“I’m fifteen!” Gallus protested. “And I am in trouble! Life is passing me by, and I’m stuck here stacking shelves. So what are you doing back here, anyway? Did they kick you out of that fancy school?”

“I’m here about disappearances,” Rainbow said. “Do you know anything about that?”

Gallus’ face fell. “I … a little. Grampa won’t admit it, but he’s worried. Since people started going missing, he’s been closing up earlier, and he doesn’t have me out making deliveries at night any more. Which would be great, because I hate that bike he has me ride, but … well, you know.”

“Hear anything?” Rainbow asked. “See anything?”

“Seen? No,” Gallus said. “I might have heard something though.”

“What?” demanded Blake.

“I don’t know exactly,” Gallus admitted. “But a couple of nights ago, I thought I heard someone stomping around outside. They must have been pretty big; they were making a heck of a noise.”

“Thanks,” Rainbow murmured. “Blake and I are going to take care of this, whatever it is, but until we do, take care of yourself, okay?”

Gallus nodded. “Are you going to go talk to Grampa?”

“Yeah.”

“Good luck,” Gallus replied as he started wiping away the paint on the window.

Rainbow led the way inside, pushing open the door that led into the bodega. Low Town wasn’t exactly full of shops, and so Grampa’s provided pretty much everything that you could need down here, from food to kitchen utensils, toiletries, cigarettes, sweets, and he made some mean sandwiches too. The store was laid out in the old-fashioned way, with a counter running along three sides of the store and almost everything either on it or behind it so that Grampa Gruff had to get you everything himself — or, conversely, it was harder for you to steal from him. Near the door, stacked up on the counter, was a pyramid of tin cans without labels on them, and a sign sticking up above the pyramid encouraging shoppers to take a chance on an item full of mysterious promise. At the back of the store sat a coffee maker, a sandwich maker, and various fillings under a hot lamp, while above them on the wall were the options and prices available.

Rainbow could smell the meatballs from here, and if she hadn’t been on the job, she would have relished one of Grampa Gruff’s meatball subs.

Unfortunately, he’d probably have spat in it.

Drawn by the sound of the bell, Grampa Gruff emerged from the back of his home.

“No,” he repeated, when he saw Rainbow Dash.

“Oh, come on, Grampa,” Rainbow said, as she walked across the open space in the middle of the shop.

“I have the right to refuse service to anyone for any reason I choose,” Grampa Gruff declared.

“Actually, you don’t; according to the Equality Act, you’re not allowed to discriminate on grounds of race, gender, sex, or sexuality,” Rainbow informed him.

“But I can still discriminate against sell-outs who leave their homes and never come back, right?” Grampa Gruff demanded. “Okay then, that’s you, get out!”

Rainbow sighed heavily. To Blake, she said, “If I was kind of cranky when you met me, stuff like this is why.”

“Oh boo hoo,” Grampa Gruff said mockingly. “Did you tell your friend how absolutely insufferable you were when you deigned to come around before you left for good? She spent some time in Atlas, and suddenly, she was too good for all of us peasants down here in Low Town, weren’t you?”

“Is this actually your grandfather?” Blake whispered.

“No, everyone just calls him Grampa,” Rainbow replied.

“Right,” Blake said softly. She walked forward, raising her voice. “Sir, regardless of what happened with Rainbow Dash in the past, we’re here to help, and we’re hoping that you can help us to—”

“Here to help? When is anyone from Atlas ever here to help us, huh?” Grampa Gruff demanded. “And who are you, another traitor?”

“Show some respect, Grampa,” Rainbow snapped. “This is Blake Belladonna, Ghira Belladonna’s daughter.”

Blake’s ears drooped a little, and she bowed her head as though she was embarrassed.

Grampa Gruff was quiet for a moment. “Is that true?” he asked. “You’re the Belladonna kid?”

Blake nodded silently.

“Well, your old man was a sellout too,” Grampa Gruff said. “Leaving us all behind to swan off to Menagerie.”

“Ugh, listen,” Rainbow said, striding forwards and putting her hands down heavily on the counter. “You can think what you like about me, Grampa; you can hate me if you want. I’ll even admit that I kind of deserve it for the way that I acted, and that’s on me. But if you want to hold onto that and not talk to me because I was a dumb kid when there are people disappearing out there on the streets and Gallus could be next … that’s on you.”

Grampa Gruff’s one good eye widened. “You know about the disappearances?”

“I didn’t come down here for the meatball sub, as good as it is,” Rainbow said. “I don’t know who’s doing this, but whoever they are, I think that me and Blake can stop them. But only if people will talk to us.” She grinned. “You still got the Saturday night special underneath the counter?”

Grampa Gruff reached beneath the counter and produced a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun. “I’ve been keeping it loaded since all of this started.”

“That might do you some good,” Rainbow acknowledged. “But we’ll do you more. So come on, not for me, not for the Belladonnas, but for Low Town and for Gallus and yourself: Do you know anything that might help us stop this?”

Flash looked this way and that, his gaze emerging nervously out from beneath his crested helmet as he followed Weiss down the streets of the Low Town. “Everyone’s staring at us.”

Weiss rolled her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him. “I wonder why that could be?” she asked. She was glad that Flash had agreed to come and back her up on this business, and she understood why he was wearing his gilded, gleaming armour — here in the shadow of Atlas, where the great floating metropolis blocked out most of the sunlight and cast the world in a perpetual twilight, his armour gleamed a little less than usual, but nevertheless, it caught what little light still reached them here — with his gilded hoplon shield slung across his back and the blue crest in his helmet; it was his huntsman gear, after all, and she wouldn’t have wanted him to do without. Nevertheless, she wasn’t going to waste time pretending that he didn’t stick out like a blister.

“And I’m sure the fact that you’re walking around with the Schnee Dust Company logo on your back has nothing whatsoever to do with it,” Flash said, matching her tone in its masterful infusion of sarcasm.

Weiss scowled as she stopped and turned around to face him in the middle of the street. She was not dressed in precisely the same outfit that she had worn for action at Beacon; rather, she was wearing a crisp white double-breasted jacket, with black buttons running down it like the coals on a snowman, and a skirt which, while only thigh length, had a number of layers of black petticoat for extra warmth. A pair of black tights embraced her legs, while white boots rose up higher than her knees.

And, yes, the jacket had the Schnee snowflake on its back, and, yes, that probably had as much to do with the way that every faunus in the street or in the doorways of the ramshackle shanties that lined either side of the same was staring at them with amazement and not a little bit of hostility, but that didn’t mean that she was going to let his comment pass uncontested.

“I am not wearing any company logo,” she declared proudly. “This is my family crest.”

He didn’t look as though he understood the distinction — incomprehension shone in those blue eyes — but he must have understood that it was important to her, because he said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay,” Weiss said stiffly. “Everyone does it.” And that, of course, was the really upsetting thing, but she wasn’t about to explain that to him.

I shouldn’t have gotten mad. It wasn’t his fault.

But if I don’t correct him, then he’ll never learn. He’s a good person; he won’t take offence. And he won’t forget it either.

He won’t refer to the Schnee snowflake as the corporate logo again.

Although he might not understand why he shouldn’t. Perhaps I should explain a little.

“It’s just … there’s more to being a Schnee than the company,” Weiss said. “I don’t wear this because I’m some corporate stooge. I wear it because it’s my birthright.”

“I get it,” Flash said, although Weiss wasn’t sure that he actually understood or just thought he did. It was, admittedly, a difficult thing to understand … unless, perhaps, you were a Mistralian aristocrat.

“Um,” the Seacole girl, who had given her name as Lavender, murmured from just up ahead of them. “Is everything okay?”

Weiss looked back at her. “Everything’s fine,” she said primly. “I’m sorry for the delay. Please, continue.”

The girl led them through the crowded, cramped, and warren-like streets of the undercity that dwelt beneath Atlas, in the literal shadow of the wealthiest, mightiest, and most advanced city in the world. Atlas dwelt amongst the clouds, yet here on the ground, all of its bright and shining brilliance was wholly absent. Down here, the best that could be managed was a kind of suburban townhouse that would have been thought a little small and cramped in Vale, while a great many people seemed to make do in lean-to huts, in crude apartment blocks thrown together with bricks and wood and corrugated iron. Weiss had never been down here amongst these sprawling favelas before, and to be perfectly honest, there was something nerve-inducing about them. She didn’t let it show, of course — she kept her chin up and her head held high throughout, although she also she kept one hand close to the hilt of Myrtenaster — but she felt it in her bones as the combination of the low light, the many eyes watching her in the street and out of the shadows, the fact that everyone around her was a faunus and Flash the only human in sight, perhaps for miles, all of it contrived to give her a chill feeling.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this had been a good idea.

I can’t turn back. I refuse to turn back. She was not her father. She was not the sort of person who would turn a blind eye to the problems of others simply because she could. And she wouldn’t run away just because she was being made to feel a little uncomfortable. She had to be brave, like her sister and grandfather.

She was not her father; she recognised her debts and repaid them.

Lavender led them through streets that were simple tracks carved into the earth, layered over at times by wooden boards or iron sheets. There were no robots here to pick up the litter, but somebody was clearly cleaning up, because there wasn’t nearly the amount of litter that Weiss would have expected to see in a neighbourhood like this one. In fact, there was hardly any at all that she could see, and now that she took a second look, the buildings, ramshackle though they often were, didn’t look so dirty either.

So, followed by the eyes of the faunus who dwelt beneath, Weiss and Flash followed their guide until she led them to what, in Vale, would have passed for a modest bungalow but seemed a kind of palace in this place, not least for the fact that it appeared to have been put up by a professional.

Did my father pay her so well before he fired her? Weiss wondered, before she remembered that Laberna Seacole had also been her mother’s nanny when she was very young. She found it much easier to believe that her grandfather had been generous with the woman who was almost raising his daughter. That made a lot more sense.

Weiss remembered that Laberna had used to laugh and say often that she could tell them stories about their mother, with the implication that they were stories that their mother might not want to be told. But she had never told them, out of respect for the mistress, out of fear that it would cause her to be dismissed, or perhaps simply out of affection for a woman whom she had once bathed as she had gone on to bathe her daughters in turn. Regardless, she had kept Willow Schnee’s childhood secrets; Weiss had never found out exactly what her mother had been like as a girl. Now, when she considered it, Weiss found that a great pity. Her mother couldn’t have always been the lonely, fading ghost who haunted the Schnee mansion like a phantom, who drank in the morning and went to bed in the afternoon, who was rarely seen — who was rarely allowed to be seen — amongst high society. The more she thought about it, the more Weiss regretted that she didn’t know anything about what her mother had been like when she was … when she was happy.

Lavender turned to them. “This is my grandma’s house. You should come in and say hello. I know that she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Would you like me to wait out here?” Flash asked softly.

“No,” Weiss said. Apart from anything, she wasn’t altogether sure that it would be safe to leave Flash all alone out here, nor — though she would never say so out loud — did she wish to go alone into an unfamiliar house like this. “I’m sure that Mrs. Seacole won’t mind you coming in.”

Lavender shook her head. “Of course not. The more the merrier, right? Come on in.” She seemed a little less nervous now as she opened the front door — it wasn’t locked, which seemed a little dangerous in a place like this — and disappeared into the darkened house. There were no lights on inside, and though the windows were open, the shadow of Atlas lay so heavily upon them that there was little illumination to be had. From what Weiss could make out, mostly shadows and shapes without much definition, the front room was a sparsely decorated place. A little light, candle light if she was any judge, peaked out from behind the curtain that acted as the barrier between one room and the next. Lavender pushed the curtain aside. “I’m back, Grandma, and I didn’t come back by myself.”

Laberna Seacole sat in a rocking chair, her legs and hands alike covered by a blanket. She had been an old woman when she had tended to Weiss, changed her diapers and given her baths, but now, by the light of the single candle burning in the room, she looked truly ancient. Her skin was wrinkled everywhere, her hair was not only white but thin too, gone in places revealing a spotty scalp to the world, even as hair sprouted out of her raccoon ears in tufts. When she opened her eyes, they were rheumy and pale; Weiss wondered if she could even see anymore.

How swiftly had she declined. Had living here been so bad for her health? How had she become thus so quickly?

“Miss Winter?” she croaked in a thin, hoarse voice; her gums were toothless, and her crinkled lips curled around them. “Is that you?”

“No,” Weiss said softly, as though she were confessing something. “It’s me, Weiss.”

“Miss Weiss?” Mrs. Seacole asked, sounding confused and a little disbelieving. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a huntress,” Weiss said. She shifted uncomfortably. “Well, a huntress-in-training, at least, at—”

“Beacon,” Mrs. Seacole said. “I remember now. You going off all the way to Vale over the ocean, that made it into the news.”

“It did?”

“Sure it did. I always look out for anything about my girls,” Mrs. Seacole said. “I don’t see you no more, but I want to know how things are going. I’m so proud of both of you.”

Weiss frowned and looked away. “There’s not so much to be proud of.”

“Sure there is,” Mrs. Seacole said. “Your sister, Miss Winter, is a fine woman and an officer, and you, you’ve still got that voice like an angel; I should have recognised it the moment you opened your mouth, and you’ve got into Beacon, and you fought in that big battle in Vale not too long ago, and they say you even worked with the police to take down a terrorist. I’ll bet you're the best student in that whole place.”

Hardly, Weiss thought, with a little chagrin. “I… have done my best,” she muttered.

“If they were here, your grandma and grandpa would be so proud of both of you,” Mrs. Seacole said. “But since they ain’t, I guess I have to be proud for them. Miss Weiss?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to bring my granddaughter back home to me?”

Weiss stood up a little straighter, as much for her benefit as for that of Mrs. Seacole. “I will,” she said. “You have my word, upon my sacred honour.”

Mrs. Seacole nodded. “You hear that, Lavender? She gave her word. The word of a Schnee, just the way old Mister Nicholas would have said it. Prim’s as good as back with us already.”

“Is there anything that you can tell us?” Flash asked. “Where was she going when she … disappeared?”

“Who is this? Who are you, boy?”

“This is Flash Sentry,” Weiss explained. “He’s my partner at Beacon, and he’s agreed to help me, help us with this.”

Mrs. Seacole nodded. “Primrose … Primrose was on her way to Grampa Gruff’s. She came home from work, made dinner, and then went out to pick up a few things we were short of.”

“Where?” Weiss asked.

“It’s a little way from here,” Lavender said. “I can show you.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said softly. She hesitated for a moment. Apologies did not come naturally to her, especially when the apology was not for an offence committed by her. But in this case, it was necessary. “I’m sorry for the way my father treated you. It was uncalled for. It was … it was more than uncalled for, it was downright cruel, and it has … Laberna, how did you get like this? It hasn’t been so long, or are my memories so poor?”

Laberna let out a long sigh, or at least what sounded like a sigh. “I … I don’t rightly know, Miss Weiss. Sometimes, it feels like Time was just waiting in the shadows, lurking out of sight until I lost my job when he jumped out and loaded down all the surprises that he’d been holding for me. Like I’d been holding old age at bay for years, and then one day, it hit me like a truck. But that doesn’t really matter now. Primrose is what matters, my granddaughter; she’s the important one.”

Weiss nodded. “I, we, will bring your granddaughter back. I promise.”

“Thank you, Miss Weiss,” Mrs. Seacole said. “And you … you take care of my Lavender too, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Weiss said softly.

“I’d go with you myself, but I…” She sighed. “I’m so tired now.”

“You should get some rest; your family will be home soon,” Weiss said. “And … thank you.”

“For what, child?”

“For … for everything,” Weiss said. “For being there, when my parents weren’t. For being… for helping me to become who I am today.” I only hope that who I am today can help repay the debt I owe to you. To Lavender she added, “Please, lead the way.”

“Right,” Lavender said. “Goodbye, grandma. I’ll … we’ll both be home soon, me and Prim.”

“I hope so,” Laberna said. “I’ll be waiting … for you both.”

The old woman closed her eyes and leaned back in her rocking chair as one spotted hand emerged from underneath the blanket to pull it a little higher up above her waist.

“How is she?” Weiss whispered.

Lavender glanced at her grandmother across the shadowy room. “Tired all the time. She doesn’t get up much; she can’t.”

“And your parents?” Flash asked.

“It’s just me, my grandma, and Prim,” Lavender said. “We have to find her. We will find her, won’t we? You meant what you said to Grandma?”

“I never say things that I don’t mean,” Weiss declared. “Come on, show us the way that your sister would have taken to this store.”

Lavender led them back outside the house the way that they had come. Immediately after they had exited, however, they found themselves confronted by a small mob.

It seemed that the faunus — some of them, at least — who had watched them with sharp and wary eyes as they made their way here had found their courage after Weiss and Flash had gone into the house. They were gathered outside of the Seacole’s front door, and though Weiss saw very few weapons in evidence — she could see only two guns, and a few more knives and sticks — they looked angry, upset, and ready for trouble.

Weiss was not afraid. She was wary, but she was not afraid. She had faced the White Fang and the creatures of grimm, and a few angry faunus didn’t frighten her. But she was conscious of the fact that she couldn’t just tackle them head on like she could have the White Fang — there were probably a few White Fang members, or at least sympathisers, amongst this crowd, but that was almost beside the point in this situation — or the grimm. She had promised to help find Primrose Seacole and get to the bottom of these disappearances, and she couldn’t do that if she managed to rouse the entire district to a rage against her.

The mob was led by a young dog faunus with terrier ears, someone about her age or maybe a couple of years older, who was one of the couple of people in the crowd who had a gun, specifically a pistol similar to the sort used as sidearms by the military. As he talked, he waved said pistol in their faces with such wild abandon that Weiss felt rather glad he still had the safety catch on, even as she wondered if he realised that it was on.

“What have we here?” he demanded. “You people are getting real cocky, aren’t you? You think you can just kidnap people in broad daylight now?”

Lavender waved her hands in front of her. “It’s not like that, this is—”

“Lav, this ain’t your business,” the young man growled. “Why don’t you get back inside the house, and we’ll take care of this.”

“I don’t know what you think is going on here,” Weiss said, “but we’re here to help find this girl’s sister and—”

“Oh, I’m sure that you already know exactly where Prim is, seeing as how you’re the ones who took her!” the young man shouted, to mutters of agreement and encouragement from the crowd behind him. “Everyone knows that the humans and the SDC are behind all these folks going missing.”

“Really? How do you figure that?” Flash asked.

“Because it’s always the humans and the SDC!” the young man replied. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming around here wearing that snowflake.”

“Why thank you,” Weiss said. “It’s always good to know that my courage is recognised and appreciated.”

Silence descended on the crowd. Lavender looked as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Flash looked as though he didn’t know whether to boggle or laugh. The face of the young faunus turned a shade of purple.

“What?” he snapped. “What did you say to me?”

“You praised my nerve; I thanked you for the compliment,” Weiss said.

“I never gave you no compliment!”

“I disagree,” Weiss replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.”

“You ain’t going nowhere!” he yelled. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing with all the people you’ve snatched!”

“We didn’t do it,” Flash said. “Listen, buddy, if we were kidnapping people, then why would we come down here to try and find them?”

“So you can lord it over us, probably,” he said. “So that you can laugh at us for being so stupid as to trust you.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Flash said. “We’re just trying to help.”

“We don’t need your help; we take care of our problems around here.”

“Because you’re doing such a good job, clearly,” Weiss snapped. She affixed him with a look full of patrician hauteur, tilting her chin up to give the impression that she was looking down on him even as he remained noticeably taller than she was. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care, but you and your gun don’t frighten me, and you won’t stop me from doing what I came here to do. So stand aside.”

The young man swallowed, and looked as though he was stiffening up his courage, or trying to. “Or what?” he demanded.

“Let’s not get into ‘or what’ if we don’t have to, yeah?”

The voice was coming from on top of the Seacoles’ roof and belonged to Rainbow Dash, the leader of Team RSPT. She was not someone whom Weiss had expected to see here, and yet here she was, perched on top of the roof, looking down upon the scene. She was wearing those wings of hers strapped across her shoulders and chest, and she was wearing a dark blue sports jacket with a light blue streak down the middle, covering the zipper, and another streak of red, yellow, and green across her midriff and her sleeves around the elbow. Her trousers were indigo, with light blue stripes running up the seams.

With her was none other than Blake Belladonna, once of the White Fang, now a friend of Atlas, if not quite the hero of the north kingdom the public believed.

The eyes of the mob turned upwards towards them.

“Rainbow Dash!” someone exclaimed from out of the crowd.

“That’s right,” Rainbow Dash said. “You remember me, huh?”

“We remember how you ditched the neighbourhood,” the young man said. “What are you doing back here?”

“I heard you were having some trouble,” Rainbow replied. “We’re here to help.”

“We don’t need it! Not from these two, not from you, not from anyone who’s causing people to go missing!”

“Atlas isn’t doing this,” Rainbow replied. “Atlas … Atlas doesn’t do stuff like this.”

“And why should I believe that? Why should any of us believe that? Because you say so?”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense,” Blake said, as she leapt down off the roof to land not far away from Weiss. “Why would Atlas, or the military, or the SDC suddenly start kidnapping people in the middle of the night? What does it get them that they don’t already have?”

“Who are you?” someone demanded from out of the crowd.

“I’m…” Blake hesitated for a moment. “My name is Blake Belladonna. And my father is Ghira Belladonna, former High Leader of the White Fang. How many people have heard of him?”

Some, mostly the older members of the crowd, nodded or murmured that they had, or even that they remembered him.

“I understand that you’re angry,” Blake said. “I understand that you’re upset, and I understand that you’re worried about all your friends and relatives and neighbours who have gone missing. But taking that anger out on those who only want to help isn’t going to bring those people back—”

“We can handle this on our own—”

“No, you can’t!” Blake snapped so fiercely that the young man stumbled backwards away from her with a startled yelp. “You may want that to be true, but it isn’t, and you know it isn’t, because you know that you’re not strong enough. That’s not a bad thing. You shouldn’t be ashamed of not having power … but there’s nothing wrong with asking for help either, with admitting that you can’t do this on your own. I’m here to help you. We’re here to help you, and we’re not going to stop until we find these missing people. I promise that Atlas did not do this but that we are going to find out who actually did.”

The young man picked himself up off the ground. “Belladonna, huh? So your dad, he’s the big guy down on Menagerie?”

Blake nodded sharply. “That’s right,” she said.

The young dog faunus nodded his head. “My folks live down there. They say he’s a good guy. But they say you’re some kind of Atlesian hero, special ops or somethin’, so how do we know you haven’t sold out like Rainbow Dash here?”

“Rainbow hasn’t sold out, and neither have I,” Blake declared. “As for my reputation … sometimes, a lie makes people more comfortable than the truth, but the truth is, I have always fought for justice, and I have always fought for our people, and that is something that will never change.”

The young faunus half nodded. “From the Belladonna kid … I guess I can believe that. You really think that you can rescue everybody?”

Blake’s mouth tightened. “I can’t promise you that they’re all still okay,” she admitted. “But I can guarantee that I’ll get to the bottom of what happened to them.”

That, and the magic of the Belladonna name — and Blake’s parents had not only led the White Fang, but were now ruling over the faunus on Menagerie? How did that happen? — seemed to be enough for the faunus, who began to disperse until, besides Weiss, Flash, Rainbow, and Blake, only Lavender Seacole remained, looking a little confused about what had just happened.

As Rainbow dropped down into the street, Blake turned to face Weiss and Flash. “So,” she said, “what brings you two down here?”

“I asked for their help, sort of,” Lavender murmured.

“Her grandmother was…” Weiss paused; for some reason, the idea of telling Blake Belladonna that she had had a faunus nanny made her feel rather self-conscious. But, since she couldn’t actually explain why she felt that way, she pushed past the feeling and told her anyway. “She was my nanny.”

“Of course she was,” Blake murmured.

Weiss exhaled forcibly through her nostrils. “I could just as easily ask what brings you here?”

“I was asked to take a look at this too,” Rainbow said. “A friend got in touch with me, and because the police … let’s just say that General Ironwood appreciated that the police might not be the best people to take care of this and agreed to let me run point, for now anyway. I asked Blake to help me out.” She paused for a moment. “Miss… Weiss, I hate to ask you this, but are you sure that the SDC isn’t behind these disappearances?”

“Yes!” Weiss cried, taking a step backwards in surprise. “How … how can you say something like that, just because the company has a certain reputation—”

“It isn’t the reputation of the SDC that concerns me,” Rainbow murmured. “We’ve seen things that aren’t part of the SDC’s reputation.”

Weiss glanced between Rainbow and Blake. They must know about the brand on that terrorist’s face. It was the only thing that she could think of, although there was always the possibility that they knew other things that she was as yet ignorant of.

She rather hoped that that was not the case.

“Rainbow?” Flash said. “What are you talking about?”

“There are things that the SDC has done of which it would prefer to keep the public ignorant,” Weiss admitted, her voice quiet and brittle, like glass. “Physical … mistreatment of workers.”

“They brand their faces like cattle,” Rainbow said sharply.

“Not all of them,” Weiss replied.

“You knew?” Blake demanded.

Weiss took a deep breath. “Sunset told me about her encounter with the White Fang leader. I presume that’s when Rainbow Dash found out about it as well.”

“Gods,” Flash murmured.

“You knew?” Blake repeated. “You knew, and what, you didn’t do anything about it?”

“What was I supposed to do about it?” Weiss responded. “It’s my family company, but I have no power within it; I can’t stop it from happening; I can’t even investigate how or why.”

“You…” Blake trailed off. She was silent for a few moments. “I … I don’t believe the SDC is involved with these disappearances.”

“No?” Rainbow asked.

“You don’t?” said Weiss.

“No,” Blake agreed. “Because why start now? What would suddenly force the SDC to use this method to acquire labour, when they’ve never needed to do this before? These disappearances are novel — that’s why people reached out to us for help — now what would force the SDC to suddenly take this tack? Nothing, as far as I can tell.”

“Nor I,” Weiss agreed, hoping that that would draw a line beneath the matter.

Instead, it seemed to lead to an uncomfortable silence between them that stretched out for longer than Weiss would have liked … and yet, she could not think of any way to end it.

“Since we both want the same thing,” Blake said, finally ending the silence herself, “it makes sense for us to combine our forces.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Flash said. “People around here don’t seem to like us very much. They might be more willing to speak to a faunus.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Blake said. “They might be wrong about Atlas being behind these disappearances, but people in places like this have good reasons to be mistrustful of outsiders.”

Rainbow nodded. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up, so let’s mix up the groups? Flash, Blake, you’ve worked together before—”

“Actually,” Weiss said, “why don’t you take Flash, and I’ll go with Blake, and we’ll meet back up later and compare notes on what we’ve found out?” Rainbow seemed just as upset with the SDC as Blake was, but at least Blake had given her the benefit of the doubt and suggested that the SDC was not responsible for these disappearances. Besides, when Flash and Blake had worked together before, they’d ended up getting captured, and Flash had almost been shot.

Rainbow blinked. “Um … Blake, is that-?”

“I’m okay with that,” Blake said, in a voice that was calm and quiet. “Whatever helps these people the most, I’ll do it.”

Rainbow nodded, before looking down at Lavender Seacole who had been listening to all of this with an open mouth and wide eyes. “Hey, kid, where were you about to take these two?”

“Uh, to Grampa’s; it’s where my sister was going when… when…”

“She made it there,” Rainbow said. “So they must have picked her up on the way back.”

“You’ve been to the store already?” Flash asked.

“That’s right; I hoped that Grampa might know something,” Rainbow replied. “He told us that Primrose Seacole made it to the store just as he was shutting up, but he let her in and served her anyway. She left … but she didn’t make it back home. We were just about to speak to the family when we ran into you.”

“I see,” Weiss murmured. She turned to Lavender Seacole, getting down on her knees in front of her. “I think that you’ve helped us as much as you can, young lady. You should go back inside and take care of your grandmother. Now that I know where to find you, I’ll bring your sister back as soon as you can.”

“Are … are you sure?”

“Very sure,” Weiss said. “It will be safer that way. I promise that my friends and I can handle this. After all, this is what we train for.”

Lavender nodded. “G-good luck,” she stammered, before heading back inside the house.

She closed the door behind her, although Weiss would have been more reassured to have heard the click of a lock.

“Why don’t you and Flash go north, while we head south?” Weiss suggested. “We should meet back here in a few hours to share what we’ve found out.”

“Fine,” Rainbow said.

“Don’t be late,” Flash murmured.

“I regard punctuality as a virtue,” she replied. To Blake, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Of course.” Blake said. “Let’s go.”

And she walked away, leveraging her longer legs to move at a pace Weiss would have to run in order to match. It felt, to be honest, just a little ungrateful. Weiss had done nothing but be courteous and considerate to Blake, and yet, here she was, not only taking the lead — of the two of them, Weiss was the one who was still a team leader — but also acting as though she had some reason to take a proud and haughty line with Weiss.

Weiss hurried after her — without trying to make it seem as though she was hurrying — until she drew level with the other, unfortunately taller girl and, through determined effort, kept pace with her as they walked southwards away from the Seacole house. Even if it meant having to take one and a half steps for every step of Blake’s, Weiss was not going to be led by her.

She didn’t dislike Blake, but one had to have some standards. She was a Schnee, and a Schnee did not walk behind.

If Blake noticed what Weiss was doing, she didn’t comment on it; she simply kept on walking, and together, they moved through Low Town and began to get to work.

Said work mostly consisted of knocking on doors — or else approaching those who were hanging around outside of their homes or in the street — and asking them if they had seen anything, if they had heard anything, if they knew anything at all that might help explain these disappearances that had been terrorising the neighbourhood.

These faunus might have been too proud or too stupid — or both — to go the authorities, but they knew quite a bit. Although no one had been lucky, or unlucky, to actually catch sight of the kidnapper or kidnappers at work, plenty of them had heard something or seen something or knew something, even if it wasn’t entirely clear what it all added up to.

One ageing goat faunus, with horns on either side of his head and a knife at his belt, who looked at Weiss as though he couldn’t decide if she were predator or prey, informed them that his dog — a ferocious-looking black pitbull chained up outside the front door — had woken him up with barking on the night that a young man had disappeared.

“I get up to tell that damn dog to shut up, and I hear these clanking noises outside.”

“'Clanking'? You mean like a robot?” Blake asked.

“Yeah, just like a robot,” the goat faunus said. “Like the robots that they use.” He gestured at Weiss with one hand. “I bet it’s them that have been taking all those kids.”

Weiss snorted. “That’s utterly ridiculous.”

“What, you think I’m too stupid to know what a robot sounds like?”

“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Weiss said.

“You said kids,” Blake said hastily. “Are all the victims children?”

“Maybe not children,” he said. “Although they all look like it to me, you know what I mean? They’re all … kind of your age. Some a few years younger, some a few years older. Nobody as old as me has been taken, I’ll tell you that. I think it’s disgusting.”

If he meant what she thought he meant, then Weiss couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Are they … all girls?” Blake asked, in a tone that suggested that she didn’t really want to know the answer but felt obliged to ask.

The goat shook his head. “Nah. Boys too. But that don’t mean nothing. Those Schnees … and they call us the animals.”

Weiss sputtered with incoherent outrage, but before she could get her tongue around the anger that was stopping up her throat like a jawbreaker, Blake had already thanked the man and ushered him back into his home.

“What … what are you doing?” Weiss demanded, as Blake leapt away from the dog in a manner that suggested that being so near to it for so long had been a sore trial for her. “I can’t just let him say things like that!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said.

“It matters to me!” Weiss replied.

“What matters to me is finding these people,” Blake retorted. “I’m not here to salve your pride or your ego. If you don’t want to help, then go home, but if you’re going to stay, then come with me. We’ve got work to do.” She led the way, leaving Weiss to hurry to catch up once again.

“If they were saying such things about the Belladonnas, would you still say that?” Weiss demanded to know, her tone as hot … as a branding iron. No, she didn’t want to think about that.

Or about how little she had done about it.

Blake paused for just a moment, allowing Weiss to catch up. “I would hope that I would,” she said. “My pride doesn’t matter here either. All that matters is saving people.”

She continued on, voluminous black hair bouncing slightly, but this time, Weiss managed to keep pace. It still took a bit of effort on her part.

A woman described how her son always stayed late at the pawnshop where he worked, but he always came straight home after locking up — until one night, he hadn’t. Another — younger, but outside of the age range given by the goat faunus — woman described seeing a pair of green eyes staring at her from out of the dark as she was on her way home; the eyes had watched her, but she had otherwise been unmolested as she ran the rest of the way back to her house. Several others described hearing the same robotic noises in the night as the goat had heard, and he wasn’t the only one to attribute them to either military or SDC androids.

“This is ridiculous!” Weiss declared as the door closed on yet another person who believed that the military-industrial complex was abducting Atlesian citizens for nefarious purposes. “Do people really believe that Atlas would do something like that? To its own people?”

“Look around,” Blake said. “Do you think that these people really feel like citizens of Atlas?”

Weiss bit her lip as she cast her eyes around the favela in which she and Blake stood: the corrugated iron roofs, the walls made of cracked and crumbling breeze blocks stacked haphazardly one on top of the other; the wooden shanties and the unstable-looking lean-tos; the exposed wires and cables trailing down the walls like creepers or strung across the street for the pigeons to sit on; the way the buildings rose unsteadily upwards, teetering inwards until they almost enclosed the street at times, blocking off even more of the light than the looming city up above; the rats darting across the unpaved street. It seemed as remote from the glittering spires of Atlas up above as the moon; she couldn’t understand how anyone could live like this, or why they would.

Because they are forced to, I suppose. Forced to by … by people like my father.

“Atlas is two nations, not one,” Blake said. She turned away, bowing her head even as she brushed her hair back over her shoulder so that it didn’t fall across her face. “Two nations that have no sympathy for one another; that don’t care to learn anything about one another; who barely imagine how the other thinks, feels, lives; who live by different laws and customs. To these people, Atlas might as well be on another planet.”

Weiss’ brow furrowed. “You’re being rather bleak.”

“Am I?” Blake said. “This place has been right below your feet all this time, and yet you had no idea until today, did you?”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted.

“No,” Blake repeated. “Because you live in the clouds, in a place where these faunus can only dream of living.”

“Now you’re definitely exaggerating,” Weiss said. “What about Rainbow Dash? She’s made it to Atlas.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Yes, Rainbow Dash got out, but even she would admit by now that pointing to one faunus who managed to claw her way up the ladder doesn’t invalidate the discrimination that the rest have to deal with. The discrimination that your family plays a big part in maintaining.”

Weiss was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was as cold as eyes and as sharp as the point on Myrtenaster. “Don’t say ‘my family’ when what you really mean is my father.”

The name of Schnee did not begin with my father, it will not end with my father, so why is my father the first and only thing that anyone seems to think about when it comes to the family or the company?

Blake curled up the fingers on her right hand one by one. “I … I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, although her tone made it clear that she didn’t understand what it was that she had actually said to upset Weiss.

“I told you once that I knew what my father is,” Weiss said, even as she turned away from Blake. “I know my father better than most people, I think, and that familiarity has not … it does not breed sympathy in me, take that as you will. I am not blind, I am no fool, I am aware of all the shameful things he does and of those things I … I am ashamed. But you have no idea at all how it feels to have people talk about my father as though he is the quintessential Schnee, the exemplar of everything that this family — that my family — means or is or stands for. As though he’s the only Schnee that matters and every other Schnee must either have been or will be just like him.

“Did you even know that it was my grandfather who founded the Schnee Dust Company?”

“No,” Blake admitted. “I can’t say I did.”

“He was a miner, a huntsman, an engineer, a surveyor, a prospector, and a leader of men,” Weiss said. “He personally discovered the dust deposits that made my family what it is today. The greatness of Atlas was built upon my grandfather’s back, and yet, today, almost no one remembers his name.

“My grandmother was a huntress; grandfather met her when she accepted a mission to protect his first prospecting expedition. They fell in love on the journey; without her, he would have died half a dozen times, and yet, no one outside the family remembers her at all.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Your grandfather … he sounds as though he was an accomplished man,” she said, in a neutral tone. “And your grandmother must have been brave.”

“And my father was not even born a Schnee,” Weiss said, rounding on the other girl. “He took the name when he married my mother.”

Blake said nothing. She didn’t seem to see the relevance.

“The point is,” Weiss began. “The point is that the Schnee name did not begin with my father, and he does not get to define a name that wasn’t even his to begin with! Or at least … he shouldn’t, even though he has.”

“He has,” Blake agreed. “But he won’t be around forever, and in time … he’ll be forgotten, just like—”

“Like my grandparents?”

Blake cringed a little. “I just meant … you can write your own story, and in time, that will be what it means to be a Schnee, not your father. For as long as you’re alive, at least.

“The White Fang was founded as a peaceful movement, to achieve equality through protest and debate. But does anyone remember that now? Do you? You think the White Fang is just a terrorist group — everyone thinks that — because … because we’re defined by our present, not our past. We’re judged by what we do, not remembered for where we came from.” Blake paused. “And, honestly … I think that’s a good thing.”

Weiss raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

“Because our present is always changing,” Blake explained. “And so we always have the chance to change too, unburdened by our pasts. You said that my description was bleak, but if I thought that was the end of it, why would I even be here? I’m here because I believe that things can be different, be better, for Atlas, for the faunus … why not for the SDC as well?

“I’m here, as arrogant as it might seem to say so, because I want to change the world, and I believe it can be done. I believe that we can leave the bloodshed of the past behind and not be defined by it. Because we are defined by our present, not our past—”

“Then all that matters is what we do next,” Weiss murmured.

Blake smiled slightly. “Something like that.”

“That’s a very Atlesian attitude to have,” Weiss noted, a faint smile coming to her lips.

Blake seemed taken aback for a moment, but then smiled herself. “Thank you.”

“‘Thank you,’” Weiss quoted with clear amusement. “As I recall, the last time we had a serious conversation, you claimed that you didn’t hate Atlas, just what it stood for and the institutions it upheld.”

“Yes, well … we are defined by our present,” Blake repeated somewhat sheepishly. “I suppose I have flipped my position a bit. Can you blame me, though? Until I got here, I would have been hard-pressed to find a single Atlesian who didn’t espouse great ideals and at least try to live up to them, even if they didn’t always succeed. Maybe that’s why this whole town is so offensive. The idea that the greatest kingdom on Remnant would—”

“Forget that this place even exists?” Weiss interrupted, finishing Blake’s thoughts with a bit of her own.

She really should have come down here earlier. She should have visited Mrs. Seacole earlier. She should have done a lot of things that she should have but didn’t because she just hadn’t known that this place existed. She could have known though, she should have known.

“Yes,” Blake said, confirming what Weiss had said. “So, I think it’s time that someone… reminded them. I’m sure that… even if I can’t say that that the right thing will be done, I’m sure that good people will do all they can, always provided they can work out what the best thing to do is.”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in this kingdom,” Weiss murmured.

“How can I not?” Blake asked. “After all, where else on Remnant could a poor faunus girl from Menagerie talk to one of the future ruling elite? Someone who’s basically a princess?”

“Didn’t I just say that my family are supposed to be miners and huntsmen?” Weiss demanded lightly. “Your family rules Menagerie; you’re more of a princess than I am.”

“Even if you assume that logic you’d have to accept that I’ve effectively abdicated my privileges along with my responsibilities,” Blake said somewhat defensively. “Can I really be considered a princess when I go to the literal other side of the planet instead of taking up the throne?”

“So you intend … what?” Weiss asked. “To lead Atlas and transform it from within?”

Blake hesitated for a moment. “I … I keep telling people that I haven’t made up my mind yet but the truth is … yes. Yes, that is what I intend. Or, if not me, then at least someone who shares my goals. Someone in whose ear I can whisper, and who I can keep honest.”

Weiss chuckled. “That is what I intend also, with the SDC, although I must say, you’re pursuing it more methodically than I am. But, if our ambitions do come true, then I think it will be a pleasure to work with you.”

Blake bowed her head. “Likewise.”

The heir to Menagerie held out her hand, and the heir to the Schnee Dust Company took it, her small, pale hand enfolded in Blake’s grasp.

Blake’s scroll went off, and Blake withdrew her hand to produce the device from out of her long white jacket.

It was Rainbow Dash. “Hey,” she said. “You two might want to get up here; we think we’ve found something.”

Blake and Weiss hastened north, where they found Rainbow and Flash just beyond the edge of Low Town, where the buildings ceased and there was nothing but barren earth, grey and dark, rolling — gently at first, and then with increasing steepness — up to form the crater that surrounded the settlement.

Where Rainbow and Flash were, where Weiss and Blake found them, was still basically flat ground, ground that could have been built on except that, presumably, there was no one to live here.

However, the absence of anything here — Low Town was behind them now, if not very far behind — made Weiss wonder why they had been called here.

“Forgive me,” she murmured, “but … what are we supposed to be looking at?”

“Blake,” Rainbow said, “did anyone mention robots to you?”

“You heard that too?” Blake asked.

“And people in those houses nearby said that they’ve heard airships in the night,” Flash added.

“Airships don’t make that much noise,” Weiss murmured. “So they wouldn’t hear them unless—”

“Unless they were coming in very low,” Blake said softly. “Low enough to land, perhaps.”

“And we think we know where they’re landing,” Rainbow declared.

Weiss blinked. “I … I’m sorry, I still don’t see what makes this any different than anywhere else around here. Yes, the sound is a factor, but—”

“The ground is flat,” Rainbow pointed out.

“So?”

“No, I mean it’s really flat,” Rainbow said, reaching out and brushing her fingers against the earth in front of her. “Ground isn’t that flat naturally, even what we call flat ground; it’s been packed flat, like by something heavy landing on it, a lot.”

Now that her attention had been drawn to it, Weiss could see what she meant: a rectangle of earth, levelled and flattened, while all around it, the ground was, while not sloping, possessed of the usual unevenness of ground, slight rises and falls, barely noticeable, but there all the same.

Except within this rectangle.

“A pilot would not land in the same place twice,” Rainbow went on. “I mean, they might land in almost the same place, but they wouldn’t set an airship down in the exact same place every time; there’d be variations. But if an android was programmed to land in a certain place, then it will hit that exact mark every single time.”

“But an airship wouldn’t leave a mark like that,” Weiss pointed out.

“It would if it was carrying a container, or something like that,” Flash suggested. “And … if you were kidnapping people, you might not want them in the airship where they could try and seize the controls.”

“So … you think that an airship, flown by an android or a computer program, is landing here with a container, sending out at least one android to kidnap people, then putting those people inside the container before the airship flies away?” Weiss said.

“It’s a working theory,” Rainbow replied.

“It sounds plausible,” Blake murmured.

“I suppose,” Weiss acknowledged. “But even if it is androids, this is not the SDC’s doing.”

“We know,” Rainbow assured her, rising to her feet. “And it isn’t the military either, but anyone can buy androids, and for whatever reason, provided they’ve got the lien.”

“True,” Weiss agreed. She paused for a moment. “Who would have thought this case would be solved so easily?”

“This case didn’t need a genius to solve it,” Blake growled. “It just needed someone to show up and give a damn.”

Weiss couldn’t argue with that. Imagine how many lives could have been saved if anyone had cared to try?

“This isn’t solved yet; we still need to find those people,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “But I think I might have an idea how we can do that.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The biggest change is the addition of the stuff with Blake and Rainbow Dash, as the latter gets a lot more to do than she did in the original version of the chapter. Elsewhere, some minor changes to the interactions between Weiss and Blake.

The chapter also doesn't end in quite the same place, as part of a general reshuffling of which chapter which events take place in.

No new chapter out this Friday as I am away.

Robots Undisguised (Rewritten)

Robots Undisguised

Blake shivered. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?” Rainbow’s voice came over her earpiece. She was somewhere nearby, hidden, watching her, but Blake couldn’t see her, just like she couldn’t see Weiss or Flash either. She could only hear Rainbow’s voice, speaking to her from out of Rainbow’s hiding place.

Blake shivered again. “Is it me, or is it much colder down here than it was in Atlas?”

Rainbow’s laughter had an edge of nervousness to it. “It’s not just you, Blake, sorry. There is a heating grid — that’s why you won’t, you know, die — but it’s not enough to really warm the place up like Atlas.”

Blake huffed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised,” she muttered.

“It’s another reason why it would be great if everyone could move out of here and come to live in Atlas,” Rainbow said. “There’s just … there’s too much work to be done to make this a decent place to live.”

“I know what you mean,” Blake said quietly.

Night had fallen over Atlas and LowTown alike, and Blake was waiting in a narrow alley between two rising ramshackle apartment blocks at the very edge of Low Town, not far from the flattened patch of earth that they theorised was being used as the landing site for airships abducting faunus.

The plan that Dash had come up with was a simple one, but no less good to Blake’s mind for being simple. It was a variation on the tactics they had already used to beat Torchwick and the White Fang, and it had worked perfectly well then against opponents who could think for themselves: they would stake out the landing site, and when — if — an airship landed, then Blake would pretend to be an innocent faunus girl walking home at night. The hope was that such a target in such proximity would entice the kidnappers, who would then be set upon by the combined strength of their party with the aim of disabling one of the androids and getting Twilight to examine it for more information.

To be honest, if it hadn’t been for the uncommonly cold weather, Blake wouldn’t have minded either the plan or her part in it, but it was cold, so she minded a little.

She heard someone coming, footsteps from behind her; Blake spun around, reaching for Gambol Shroud — it was concealed beneath her coat and worn a little lower on her back than normal, but she could still reach it over her shoulder — before she saw that it was Weiss.

“In some ways, I think I should be the one who’s afraid of you,” Weiss observed.

Blake lowered her hand. “You startled me.”

“Sorry,” Weiss said, as she walked closer. She had a flask in her hand, which she held out towards Blake as she approached. “I thought I could help with the cold.”

“Coffee?”

“Tea,” Weiss corrected. “Is that a problem?”

“No, it’s better,” Blake said. “When did you get that?”

“I’ve been carrying it all day,” Weiss said, as she unscrewed the top of the metal flask and poured some steaming liquid into it. “It has a dust-powered heater that keeps it warm; you could say it’s a portable kettle. Here.”

Blake took the lid-turned-cup out of Weiss’ hands. It was warm to her touch, warm verging upon hot, and that was such a satisfying feeling to her fingers and her palms that had become to ache and throb from the cold. She stood, shivering, feeling the heat on her skin for a moment or two before she started to sip. The tea was a little sweeter than she personally preferred, but she wasn’t about to quibble with Weiss at a time like this. “It’s great, thank you.”

Weiss unscrewed the bottom of the flask, which turned out to be a second cup which she poured for herself. “You’re welcome. My butler does make an excellent cup of tea.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Weiss said, with a touch of good-natured irritation. “I refuse to believe that the daughter of the ruler of Menagerie has never been waited on in her life before.”

“It’s not as grand as you might think,” Blake replied, because it was easier to just say that than to try and explain that she’d run away from her parents before her father became ruler of Menagerie. Besides, as it happened, Weiss was right: she had been waited on, when she had sat at the left hand of Sienna Khan as her honoured guest — Sienna had made much of Blake in the early days, had played the mother to her in Blake’s own mother’s absence; now, Blake was inclined to believe that she had wanted to rub it in the faces of her parents — and at the warlord’s table, she had been treated as a princess of the White Fang in ways that she had never been when her father was leader; and in Vale, when she had been with Adam … it sometimes struck her as strange some of the ways that the White Fang had, by accident or through deliberate imitation, ended up mimicking the Atlesian military to which it was implacably opposed: Adam didn’t dine with the common rabble, but only with his trusted lieutenants and Blake, and the lowly task of preparing his own meals had been beneath the great liberator’s dignity; he had had Strongheart or one of the other young faunus take care of it. So …Weiss had a point. “But … you’re not wrong about the servants thing.” I still knew how to make my own tea.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I might tell you,” Weiss declared. “Take … take Missus Seacole, my old nanny; is she happier living … living down here, trying to raise her granddaughters on … I don’t even know what? Meagre savings, a small pension maybe, or was she better off getting a wage as an employee of my grandfather? If you are fortunate enough to have wealth, it strikes me that there are much worse ways to use it than to give employment to those who are not so fortunate. Yes, androids can do the dusting and the ironing and make the beds, and maybe they can even be programmed to cook, but … I don’t see that being unemployed is an improvement on being a servant.”

That assumes that some people should have so much more money than others, Blake thought. Not everyone would agree … but then who would expect the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company to find the concept of monstrous wealth to be abhorrent.

If the limits of her imagination were using her wealth for good, then who could honestly blame her?

“In my case, it’s a little different,” Blake said. “But I take your point.” She paused for a moment. “Why would you be afraid of me?”

“You are a former member of the White Fang, after all,” Weiss pointed out. “I’m not sure that my father would approve of this, if he knew.”

“The fact that he doesn’t know suggests you don’t really care whether he approves or not,” Blake pointed out.

“True,” Weiss said with a slight chuckle. “It was … a bad joke, I suppose.”

“Heads up, everybody,” Rainbow’s voice came over the com device in Blake’s ear. “I just got word from air traffic control; there’s a Bullhead incoming, looks like it's on approach to this location.”

“Do they know whose Bullhead it is?” Flash asked.

“Nah, they just told me it’s a registered civilian ID,” Rainbow said. “I can ask for the details, but the airship will probably get here before they respond. Blake, are you ready?”

“Almost,” Blake murmured, taking a healthy gulp from her cup of tea.

Weiss sipped thoughtfully from hers. “You know what’s bothering me about this?”

“No.”

“That woman who saw green eyes … she said they were looming over her, but no robot is that big. Combat androids are the size of people.”

“Military models are, but this could be a private design,” Blake suggested.

“Have you ever heard of a private design that much taller than a person?”

“No,” Blake admitted. “But I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Eyes up; here it comes,” Rainbow said, as the whine of a Bullhead’s engines disturbed the quiet of the night. “Blake, you set?”

Blake drained the last of her cup of tea in one gulp. “I am now.”

“Then you’re on.”

Blake handed Weiss her cup back. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Don’t mention it,” Weiss said, screwing the lid back on her flask. “Good luck. I’m right behind you.”

Blake nodded as she slouched out of the alleyway and just beyond the informal boundaries of Low Town. Once outside, with her feline night vision, she could see the Bullhead descending as plain as day.

It was unpainted and unmarked, much like the ones that White Fang occasionally used — when they could get their hands on them — in an attempt at stealth through lack of identifiers. The White Fang would never prey upon their own people in this way, but the similarity didn’t reassure Blake that whoever was landing here didn’t have a nefarious purpose in mind. A container unit, as grey and unmarked as the Bullhead itself, was attached to the bottom of the airship.

There were no lights on the airship, either inside the cockpit — it was completely dark, from what Blake could see — or outside in terms of landing lights or the like. It looked like Rainbow was right: everything was entirely automated.

That might be a good thing: a human — or faunus — might have recognised that she didn’t exactly look like the sort of person who belonged in Low Town.

She continued to watch the airship as it descended vertically upon the empty plot of land; if anyone was watching her in turn, she hoped they wouldn’t think it strange that the landing of an airship in the middle of the night in a place like this was attracting attention from a lonely girl walking home at night. It was only when the Bullhead had completed its landing and cut its engines that Blake turned away and began to walk — more like a slouch — slowly around the edge of town, playing the part of a tired girl making her way home after an exhausting day at work.

“You should have been in drama club,” Rainbow said.

“Where I grew up we didn’t have drama club,” Blake replied.

“Can everybody see Blake?”

“Yes,” said Weiss.

“I see her,” Flash added.

Blake didn’t look at the airship as she heard the central compartment open up, the door opening with a whine. She heard a heavy thump upon the ground, and she glanced out of the corner of her eye and then had to stop and look as one of the biggest robots that she’d ever seen, having dropped out of the Bullhead and onto the ground, rose up to its full height.

“What the … what is that thing?” she heard Rainbow ask in her ear.

Blake didn’t answer. Nobody answered because nobody knew.

The best that could be said for the android that now stomped its way towards her was that it wasn’t the size of an Atlesian paladin, but that didn’t matter too much because it still dwarfed any humanoid battle droid that Blake had ever encountered. It put Blake herself — or anyone else she knew apart from her father — in the shade. Although it was modelled after a man, it was the size of an ursa; Blake doubted she’d come past its waist, if that. The android’s body was as red as blood, with broad shoulders and a heavy torso, although its legs looked a little thin by comparison; it carried a double-bladed polearm in one hand, and the blades of the weapon glowed blue even as its green eyes, fixed on Blake, burned brightly in the darkness; she could see a large white M upon its belly.

The android made its way straight towards Blake, unflinching and unhesitating, the green eyes and green lines glowing in the dark.

Blake didn’t move as it bore down upon her. She felt it wasn’t unnatural that anyone in this position would be frozen in fear at the sight.

She could understand why someone might freeze at this sight — and she didn’t mind admitting in the privacy of her head that she wished Pyrrha were here to take care of it with her semblance — but anger and the accompanying fire stoked in her prevented Blake from freezing.

So they had been right: someone was sending out their androids to snatch faunus off the streets of Low Town. Why? What gave them the right? Did they think that, because these people were faunus, that meant they didn’t matter? That they could do what they liked and nobody would notice, or care if they did notice?

It only needed someone to show up and care.

Well she was here now, and she cared, and Rainbow cared, and she thought that even Weiss cared — probably Flash cared too, although she didn’t know him well enough to comment for sure. They were all here, and they all had Blake’s back, and they were going to show whoever was behind this that they had made a big mistake.

The robot continued to advance.

“Do we go now?” Flash asked.

“Not yet,” Rainbow said.

The android bore down on Blake; soon, it would be close enough to touch her.

“Now?” demanded Weiss.

“Not yet,” Rainbow said.

The now-closer droid raised its free hand and reached for Blake’s head.

“We have to move,” urged Weiss.

“Not yet,” Rainbow said insistently.

Blake stood still, seeming paralysed with fear, as the red hand of the droid, the hand that was as large as her face, closed with her head, metallic fingers closing around it.

Or rather, around the swiftly-dissolving shadow where Blake had been a moment ago.

Blake leapt up into the air, drawing Gambol Shroud across her shoulder. She seemed to hang in the air for a moment as her weapon arranged itself into pistol configuration; she snapped off a trio of shots that struck the green-eyed android in the face.

The shots ricocheted off the crimson android’s head, and as a string of unintelligible robotic sounds emanated from the creation, Blake could swear that it looked at her with greater malice than before.

“Now!” Rainbow yelled. “Save the head, okay; we need to preserve the head so Twi can hack it!”

The android slashed at Blake as she descended from her leap, its glaive leaving a blue trail in the air so swiftly did it move; too swiftly for Blake, and she was in the wrong place to leave another clone to take the hit in her place; the halberd caught her in the waist, sending her flying backwards down the nearest Low Town street to land on her back. She could feel her aura dropping from the blow and the subsequent impact, and she could feel her back and stomach aching as she leapt to her feet.

The android advanced towards her, slow but implacable.

Rainbow’s jetpack left a trail as she streaked through the air, kicking the android in the face as she flew past. It didn’t seem to faze the robot much — as far as she could tell with an android, anyway — but it seemed to get its attention.

Or perhaps that was just the way that Rainbow landed on top of the android’s polearm, balancing precariously on the pole like a gymnast as she unloaded her shotgun into the android’s chest.

Unfailing Loyalty roared once, twice, three times, four times as the buckshot hit the armour plating of the android with a clatter and a rattle like pebbles bouncing off a window. The crimson armour of the robot’s chest suffered microscopic little dents, but the robot itself stood stoic and enduring of these blows until it flicked its glaive upwards to send Rainbow flying off. The robot turned, tracking Rainbow’s movements as she soared through the night sky, before it was interrupted by a blue shot striking it from behind.

Weiss erupted out of the alleyway where Blake had left her, gliding across a line of speed glyphs with all the grace of a figure skater, her rapier drawn back and her free hand outstretched before her in some kind of formal fencing posture. She darted around the android, dodging the wide swing of its blade, and as she glided around the robot — it seemed so cumbersome in comparison to her lithe agility — she flicked her Myrtenaster outwards, and both the robot’s feet were encased in the ice that arose spikily out of the ground at Weiss’ command.

Blake dashed forward, Gambol Shroud reforming into a sword at her impulse as she charged right for the immobilised robot. It glared at her, or seemed to glare, as it wound up its halberd for a thrust into her chest.

Blake smirked and wondered if the robot understood what that meant.

The android thrust its polearm forward in a series of long, powerful blows that struck the ice clone Blake had left behind her. The real Blake rolled out of the way, getting to her feet in time to see the robot’s glowing weapon encased in ice and as trapped as its feet.

Flash, who lacked the speed of either Weiss or Rainbow, joined them as the android tugged impotently upon its imprisoned weapon.

“Nice going, Blake,” Rainbow said as she landed on top of the android’s shoulders.

“Ahem,” Weiss coughed into her hand.

Rainbow ignored her as she crouched down and placed her hands on either side of the android’s head.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get this—”

She was interrupted by a flurry of fire from the direction of the Bullhead, which struck her on the back and tore her away, off the android’s shoulders, sending her flying headfirst to the ground.

Another android unfolded itself as it jumped down from the Bullhead. This one was white, as tall as the first but even broader in the body; the M upon its chest was crimson, and its eyes glowed red and seemingly full of wrath as it aimed the giant weapon it was holding in both hands at the young huntsmen.

Bullets sprayed from the heavy machine gun in its hands, erupting from the single barrel as the android loosed its fire upon them. Blake took cover behind an earth clone, hearing the rock chip and crack under the onslaught. Flash threw himself in front of Weiss and held his shield in front of himself; his semblance, Stalwart, enabled him to absorb the force of blows that would have knocked another man aside, and he used it now to absorb the hail of fire that rattled off his shield, weathering it like a great oak standing before the storm.

And then the red android tore its halberd out of the ice and began to use it to hack away at the ice restraining its feet. Blake shot at it, but it hardly seemed to notice or, if it noticed, didn’t care.

The white android ceased to fire and seemed to study the group for a moment. A green pebble, or something that looked like one, flew out of the cannon’s mouth to bounce along the ground before landing at Flash’s feet.

“Gren—” Rainbow’s shout was cut off as the grenade exploded under and in front of Flash Sentry, knocking him up and backwards with an anguished cry of pain.

“Flash!” Weiss cried as Flash’s aura shattered visibly in front of them, a golden light rippling over his body as his inner light faded.

Weiss conjured a white glyph to catch him gently before he hit the ground, while another glyph formed in front of him to shield him from fire.

“Get the head off the red one,” Rainbow yelled, a rainbow streaking behind her as she charged towards the white android with the gun. “I’ll take care of the other.”

The red android had succeeded in freeing its legs from the ice, but Weiss faced it now with eyes like ice, betokening a fury as chill as the Atlesian winter

Red dust, as red as the robot itself, cycled into Myrtenaster’s chamber as a line of flame ran across the ground between Weiss and the android, erupting into an explosion at its feet which staggered the robot even as it did not immobilise it. The android rounded on her, but Weiss attacked first, her rapier shining as she thrust it forward in a flurry of blows that made the android cower behind its arms, shielding itself as Myrtenaster glanced off its armour plates again and again.

The android swept both its arms outwards, knocking Weiss backward a pace, before hitting her with its own flurry of thrusting strokes that sent her flying through the air. For a moment, Weiss seemed to hang suspended, her rapier glowing yellow, and in that moment of suspension, she fired something, a yellow blast, from the tip of her blade at Blake, and then the moment passed, and the glaive struck her and knocked her backwards to the ground.

The glowing yellow shot which Weiss had fired hit the ground at Blake’s feet, forming into a glyph in the shape of many grinding gears, turning like the inner workings of a clock.

The world around Blake seemed to slow. She could see the red android advancing on Weiss, she could see Rainbow charging the white android, fist cocked back, but they were all moving so, so slowly. Rainbow Dash was the only one who seemed to be running at anything like normal speed, but she should have been moving so fast that Blake couldn’t make her out. And the red android was moving so slowly it was barely moving at all.

Blake attacked. She charged the robot, hitting it from all sides and all directions. Gambol Shroud struck from everywhere as Blake hacked at her target’s legs, its arms, its weapons. She rained down blows upon it from all sides, breaking the glaive in two and slashing through one of its legs at the knee. The effect of whatever exactly it was that Weiss had done to Blake wore off, but it hardly seemed to matter as the android fell forwards to hit the ground with a thud.

It tried to rise, onto its knees at least, but Weiss was already standing over it, and at her feet glowed a white glyph, and around her rapier, an enormous broadsword made of ice had formed. And as the red android raised its head and began to push itself up, she swung that sword and lopped off its head in a single stroke.

The decapitated robot hit the ground with a final thump.

A booming sound from the direction of the Bullhead drew the attention of Blake and Weiss in time to see Rainbow punch the head clean off the white android using that aura-boom of hers. Personally, Blake thought that draining your own aura to such an extent was incredibly rash in a fight, but it seemed to have worked in this case as the head flew into the bullhead and the white android crumpled to the ground.

And then the Bullhead itself exploded. Rainbow Dash was framed against the explosion as the dark aircraft erupted into light, before both she and the body of the white android — minus the head — were thrown backwards, skidding along the derelict plot that served as a landing pad before the android’s body landed on top of Rainbow Dash, who groaned.

“Rainbow!” Blake cried, as she dashed through the still-open wire gate and across the barren ground towards her. “Are you okay?”

Rainbow groaned as she pushed the android off her. “I think my aura just broke, but so long as there aren’t any more robots around, I’ll be fine.” She rubbed at her right shoulder with her left hand as she got to her feet. “Did you get the head?”

Weiss picked up the head of the red android. “Present and accounted for.”

“And Flash?” Rainbow asked.

Weiss walked quickly across the ground to where Flash still lay upon the white glyph. “Unconscious, but I can’t see any injuries.”

“I’ll call in a medevac for him,” Rainbow said. “Was it just me, or did those androids seem tougher than ours?”

“It wasn’t just you,” Blake said. She frowned. “And we’re still no closer to finding the missing.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rainbow replied. “Once we get the head to Twilight, I’ve got a feeling it’s going to give us everything we need.”

The door into the lab slid open, admitting Weiss and a slightly bruised and battered-looking Flash Sentry. He was out of his armour now and wearing a jacket over a T-shirt and jeans. He smiled sheepishly at all those who were already in the room.

“Hey, guys,” he said. “I hope I didn’t keep everyone waiting.”

“It’s cool,” Rainbow said. “You deserve to be here when we find out what it’s all about. How do you feel?”

“My aura broke, but it stopped me taking any real injuries first,” Flash said. “That, or my armour took the worst of it. I’ll be okay.”

“I still don’t think that a single grenade should have been able to break your aura like that,” Weiss said. “That seems far too powerful.”

Rainbow nodded. “Your aura’s never seemed that weak before.”

Flash looked even more embarrassed. “What can I say? It happened.”

He and Weiss joined the others. The bodies of the two androids that they had fought down at the landing sight had been dismantled into their component parts — torso, arms, legs — and most of said parts had, with the exception of the head of the red android, been placed under some kind of scanner. Twilight had explained what the scanner was called — something to do with determining the component elements and analysing the design — but Blake couldn’t remember the exact words.

Twilight sat at a desk, her back to the scanners, with the other huntsmen gathered around her. The head of the red android sat on the desk not far away, as did a pair of computers, of which Twilight was only using one at the moment. She turned her chair around and ran her bespectacled eyes across the gathering.

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not the best news,” she said, sounding a trifle nervous.

Rainbow placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s up, Twi?”

Twilight winced. “These androids don’t match anything on the database when it comes to commercial models; not only are they not military, they’re not even on sale.”

Rainbow frowned. “You’re saying that somebody built these in their garage? Come on, Twilight, the only person I know who could do that is, well, you.”

“I wouldn’t count Moondancer out either,” Twilight said. She paused. “I’m not suggesting that Moondancer’s a suspect, by the way.”

“Don’t worry, I got that,” Rainbow reassured her.

“Are all customised androids so tough?” Blake asked.

“Quite the opposite,” Twilight said. “Most hand-built androids are inferior to the mass-produced models — as you’d hope, really. But I didn’t say that these were hand-built; on the contrary, they show no evidence of hand-crafting and appear to be production line models.”

“But you said—” Rainbow began.

“I said they weren’t on sale, at the moment,” Twilight said. “But they do bear some resemblance to the Merlot Industries Guardian and Suppressor Androids that were briefly on sale about twenty years ago.” She tapped some of the keys on the left-hand computer, and a pair of photographs appeared on the large monitor that took up most of the wall in front of them. At first, the photographs appeared to Blake to be the androids that they had fought that night. After a moment’s more careful study, she realised that they were not actually the same androids, though they were clearly related, but the two androids in the pictures were less heavily armoured, with more of their inner workings exposed to the world; they were also slightly smaller, and overall less sophisticated-looking, with the so-called Suppressor having a simpler-looking rotary cannon and the Guardian having only a single-bladed spear; it was like comparing the AK-130 to the AK-200: they were the same but also different.

Or like comparing someone to a picture of when they were a child.

“They’re more advanced now,” Blake said.

Twilight nodded. “What you’ve brought me are a pair of true next-generation androids compared to anything in use at the moment: stronger, more resilient, better armed; I won’t know about intelligence until I hook this one up.” She indicated the severed head on her desk. “But overall, it isn’t looking too good for the Atlesian Knight.”

Rainbow folded her arms. “That’s … not good. We spend millions on R&D, so how did some random guy manage to come up with androids that are so much better than ours?”

“That’s why I don’t think it’s likely that this is just some random guy,” Twilight said. “If it is, they’re a genius. Although…”

“What?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight shrugged. “One of the reasons why the AK-200 represents such an incremental advancement over the 130 is that we don’t need our androids to be that much better. The replacement of on-board weapon systems with hands is the biggest upgrade, and everything else is just slight tweaking for better performance; that’s because our existing androids work for what they’re designed to do: replace low-level infantry on the ground, and with that goal accomplished, we’ve been able to focus our research on other areas, like the Paladin or, well, you know.”

“Know what?” Flash asked.

“You don’t know,” Rainbow informed him.

Flash frowned a little. “Are we allowed to know?”

“No,” Rainbow said flatly.

“Good to know,” Flash remarked with a perfectly straight face.

“It’s classified,” Twilight added apologetically. “Suffice to say … we have been busy, just not on making leaps in combat android capabilities. But these androids … it’s almost as if they were designed to replace huntsmen.”

“Or kill them,” Blake muttered.

“Who’d want to replace huntsmen with robots?” Flash asked.

“As much to the point, why aren’t they on sale anymore?” Weiss added.

“And why have we never bought them?” inquired Rainbow. “I mean, I know that they could never actually replace huntsmen, even if the guy who built them wanted them to, but they’re still better — and look like they were better — than what we’re working with.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that they were built in Vale, the home of Merlot Industries,” Twilight said. “Not Atlas.”

Blake frowned. “That sounds … I mean, obviously, I understand what you just said, but I don’t understand the rationale behind it.”

“It’s council policy,” Twilight explained. “Military contracts are only given to Atlesian providers, to boost the economy and ensure that we have our own defence industries in the event of … in the event of….”

“War with the other kingdoms?” Blake suggested.

“It’s mostly the economy thing,” Twilight assured her.

Rainbow folded her arms. “Hard to believe that the Valish were coming up with tech that was so much better than ours.”

Twilight tapped something on her keyboard, and the photographs on the large monitor were replaced by an encyclopaedia entry for Merlot Industries. Blake started to read it, but it seemed that she didn’t have to because Twilight started to summarise the details for them. “Merlot Industries, founded by Doctor Victor Merlot, whose expulsion from Beacon didn’t stop him from getting doctorates in genetics and cybernetic engineering or from setting up a company which he named after himself. He was believed to have great promise and attracted a lot of early investment, but he wasted most of it on a lavish corporate headquarters in Mountain Glenn and on various scientific projects of little commercial value. The mainstay of the company was a line of highly-advanced combat androids, but they struggled to find any buyers. Some said that they were too advanced for the kind of security work that most private androids are employed in, but Doctor Merlot…” Twilight trailed off, with a glance at Weiss.

Weiss pursed her lips together. “If it’s about my father, you can say it. I won’t be offended.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Doctor Merlot alleged that the Schnee Dust Company was engaging in predatory pricing in order to shut him out of the market, but the Remnant Trade Organisation dismissed his accusations and refused to impose any sanctions on the SDC. The finances of Merlot Industries continued to worsen, but none of that mattered once Mountain Glenn was overrun by the grimm. Doctor Merlot was amongst those declared missing after the disaster along with many of his staff; the remnants of the company ended up sold shortly afterwards.

Blake said, “So this is a company based in Vale, that was going bankrupt even before everyone involved was eaten by the creatures of grimm, and yet somehow, improved versions of their androids — the androids that nobody was buying even when they were available — have shown up in Atlas being used to kidnap faunus?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what the evidence suggests,” Twilight said. She rolled her chair sideways to the left a little and picked up the head of the red android. “This guy might be able to tell us a little more.” She reached for a cable connected to the computer on her right.

“This isn’t going to be one of those things where you plug that in, and two seconds later, we’ve lost control of Atlas’ air defences, is it?” Rainbow asked.

“That’s why I’m using this computer and not that one,” Twilight, gesturing to the machine she’d been using before. “This one is completely disconnected from any networks.”

“Good, because that would have been an awkward conversation with General Ironwood,” Rainbow said.

Twilight smiled.

The holoprojector sitting beside her other, network-connected, computer, illuminated, projecting a hologram of Midnight — which was to say, Twilight without glasses and her hair down — less than a foot tall.

Nevertheless, she was tall enough that Rainbow could tell that she was pouting, in addition to having folded her arms. She let out a little harrumph.

Twilight rolled her eyes behind her spectacles. “Leaving aside the fact that I am perfectly capable—”

“What is the point of having me around if I don’t get to do stuff like this?” Midnight asked. “I was going to click my fingers and have all the data appear on the screen.”

“That would be very dramatic, I’m sure,” Twilight said dryly. “But the risks—”

“I can do it!”

“Completely disconnecting you from the network is not something that I ever envisaged when I designed you,” Twilight insisted. “I’m not sure that it’s even possible, the way that I coded you—”

“I don’t need to be disconnected; I won’t let anything get past me!”

“I can’t take that risk,” Twilight said. “Not with you and certainly not with the Atlas mainframe.”

“You mean you don’t trust me?”

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Not with this city.”

Midnight let out another harrumph and ostentatiously turned her back on Twilight. She did not, however, disappear; Rainbow could only interpret that as being because she wanted Twilight to know just how upset she, Midnight, was with her.

“Excuse me,” Weiss murmured. “But who is that?”

“This is Midnight,” Twilight said. “My Virtual Intelligence assistant.”

“When I’m allowed to assist,” Midnight grumbled.

Weiss frowned. “Should a VI be sulking? Or arguing back?”

“I’m very advanced, Miss Schnee,” Midnight declared, turning to face her. “With a range of capabilities which I would gladly demonstrate if I was given the opportunity.”

“That’s enough, Midnight,” Twilight declared, as she hooked up the android’s head to her — safely disconnected — computer.

The green eyes of the android began to faintly glow as Twilight’s monitor — the small one on the desk, not the big one on the wall — began to fill up with green letters running across the screen.

Twilight, the green letters reflecting on her spectacles, leaned forward. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here. Merlot Operating System version three-point-five.”

“Could someone have acquired all the Merlot assets after the company went under?” Weiss asked.

“Probably,” Twilight said. “But someone would have to do some digging around to find out who that—” She stopped, her voice turning to a frightened squawk as the green text turned to red upon her screen. “No no no no no!” She began to type furiously, her fingers pounding on the keyboard.

“Twi, what’s going on?” Rainbow asked nervously.

“Let’s just say that if this was a networked computer, the cruisers would be starting to self-destruct right about now,” Twilight said without breaking step in her furious typing. “But it’s okay. It’s …it’s really okay. I can fix this.”

“I would love to assist you, but you’ve made that impossible,” Midnight said with an almost malicious glee in her voice.

“Midnight, you’re not helping,” Rainbow growled. “Twi, is there anything we can do?”

Twilight didn’t look at her. “No, I don’t think so, but that’s fine. It’s all fine. Don’t worry. Nobody panic.”

“Twilight—” Rainbow began.

“Nobody panic.”

“Twi—”

“Nobody—”

“Twi, you’re the only one panicking!” Rainbow said.

“Sorry!” Twilight yelped as she continued to type. “It’s just that I — no, come back here you little — I know that this is important to you and — no, you did not just try to stick me in a dead end, mister — I don’t want to disappoint you because this — I don’t know who you think you are, but after all the trouble my friends went to, there’s no way I’m going to let you win — this might be your only lead, and I did it!” She sagged in her chair as a sigh of relief escaped her. “I got it,” she said as the red text on the screen returned to its earlier and more benevolent green.

Rainbow crouched down by her side as she wrapped an arm round Twilight’s neck and shoulders. “Sure you did; you’re Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight blushed. “You don’t need to flatter me after I’ve already started helping you out.”

“What does it say?” Blake asked.

Twilight started typing again. “Let’s see … directives … it looks like the same android was used to do all the kidnappings: there are orders here, pre-programmed orders specifying the dates on which it was to board the Bullhead, search parameters, commands to obtain … ugh, they’re referred to as specimens, with specified visual markers to identify what it calls ‘acceptable targets.’”

Blake gritted her teeth. 'Specimens'? 'Acceptable targets'? We’re not animals! We’re people, with families and lives and loved ones!

Why does the world find it so hard to understand that? Why does it find it so hard to look past our ears?

“Let me guess,” Weiss said. “Young people?”

“I’m afraid so,” Twilight said. “As best as that can be conveyed visually, anyway.”

“Does it say why?” Blake demanded. “Does it say who’s doing this?”

Twilight typed silently for a moment. “I’m afraid not. It just specifies that, once the android had acquired a victim, they were to place them in the container and then return to the Bullhead which would then return to base and…”

Blake scowled. “Go on.”

“Convey them to the holding pens pending transportation.”

“'Holding pens'?!” Blake cried. “Does it say where?”

“I’m just looking,” Twilight murmured. “Got it! Location tracking data, here it is!”

The heads of all four young huntsmen pressed close around Twilight’s monitor as a primitive map of Solitas came up on it: there were only two locations marked out: the outskirts of Low Town and a position Blake didn’t recognise on the coast, east of Atlas.

“Where is that?” Rainbow asked.

“That’s … I think that’s Long Isthmus Bay,” Flash said.

All eyes turned to him. “Where?” Weiss asked.

“It’s a natural harbour,” Flash explained. “The navy — the actual ocean navy — used it during the Great War; my mom took me diving out there a few times; there are some old dreadnoughts down there from when they scuttled the fleet; all the crews evacuated so they’re aren’t grave sites, no bodies, nothing to stop you from diving down there to take a look at them. It’s pretty cool.”

“Is there anything there apart from old wrecks?” Blake asked.

“There shouldn’t be,” Flash said. “But if you wanted somewhere to moor a boat, then I guess you could do worse than a natural bay with derelict port facilities where almost nobody ever goes anymore.”

“It seems that’s where this robot came from,” Twilight said.

“Then that’s where we need to go,” Rainbow said. “Thanks, Twi.”

“Can I come too?” Midnight asked.

Weiss blinked rapidly. “When you say ‘come too’—”

“I have already downloaded into an android body and accompanied Team Rosepetal on a field mission!” Midnight declared excitedly. “I can be very useful. I could pilot the airship, since Rainbow Dash is going to have to get out and fight!”

Rainbow cupped her chin with one hand. “You know, that’s not actually a bad idea. We could use a spare pilot. If it’s okay with you, Twilight.”

“Please!” Midnight begged. “Just because you won’t let me help in here doesn’t mean that I won’t be able to help out there.”

“Midnight, just because I … never mind,” Twilight sighed. “Of course. That’s why I gave you the ability to upload into that body in the first place, so that you could go out into the field and support Rainbow and others.”

“Yes!” Midnight cried enthusiastically. “So, when do we leave?”

“Right away,” Blake said.

“As soon as I’ve appraised General Ironwood of our progress,” Rainbow corrected her.

Blake looked — almost glared — at Rainbow Dash. “There are faunus being held in cages right now—”

“And we’ve just found out about that, and confirmed that someone is kidnapping them,” Rainbow said. “I have to pass this up. Not to mention, with no idea what kind of security we’re going to find out at that bay, we could maybe use some assistance.”

She reached out and put a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “We’re going to get them back,” she promised. “We’re going to get them all out of there. But we’re going to do it the right way.” She grinned. “Trust me, these robots aren’t going to know what hit them.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter combines the old version of this chapter, entitled 'Robots' with the next chapter 'Analysis of an Unusual Android', but the actual events of the two chapters largely continue unchanged. Still no Sun.

Faith, Hope and Charity (Rewritten)

Faith, Hope, and Charity

It was night time, although Weiss couldn’t see the stars or the moon. She was doubly-enclosed, as were Flash and Blake and Rainbow Dash. All four of them, the four huntsmen who had volunteered to go to the aid of the faunus of Low Town, were sat in Rainbow Dash’s custom — and somewhat luridly painted — airship, which itself sat inside the hangar of the Atlesian cruiser Faith, which sailed through the night sky towards Long Isthmus Bay.

No longer was it just the four of them. Of course, it had hardly been just the four of them when they left the lab, joined by Midnight, the virtual intelligence in her suit of armour — or her android body; Weiss wasn’t quite sure how to best envisage what Midnight was wearing, what she had become. In any case, it had not been just the four of them even then, and now that they were sat upon an Atlesian man-of-war, waiting to take off … this was not their little adventure any more.

And that was good. They had resources on their side, resources that Rainbow Dash had procured for them with a speed that was quite astonishing, especially for a first-year student. They had resources, and they had a reasonably sound plan, all things considered. Resources, a plan, and a good chance, they had all three, in her opinion.

And yet, Weiss could not help but regret it just a little bit. She could not help but regret that their private little errand of mercy had become so much bigger than them.

Perhaps it was just a degree of dislike for large organisations, after having grown up enmeshed in the very middle of one.

Doesn’t bode well for when I take over the company. In any case, my feelings are irrelevant. What matters is saving Mrs. Seacole’s granddaughter, and all the other captives.

The four of them may have been swallowed up by the machine of the Atlesian military, but they did at least have the honour of making the critical insertion themselves. They had earned that right, after being the ones to uncover this crime, the only ones to even bother trying to do so, and it would not be taken away from them. Fortunately, nobody had seemed inclined to do so.

Weiss, Blake, and Flash sat in the main compartment of the airship, while Rainbow Dash was in the cockpit with Midnight. As they waited, enclosed with an airship that was itself enclosed within a warship, Weiss couldn’t help but eye the big gun stacked against the wall by the door of Rainbow Dash’s personal airship. It was the combined machine gun and grenade launcher that the white android they had defeated down in Low Town had been carrying.

Rainbow’s exact words as she had picked it up and carried it out the lab had been ‘now it’s my turn to have the big gun.’

“Is that strictly necessary?” Weiss asked.

Rainbow Dash twisted around in the pilot’s seat to look back at her. “Is what necessary?”

Weiss gestured with a nod of her head towards the appropriated gun.

Rainbow grinned. “You know what they say: I’d rather have it and not use it than need it and not have it.”

Weiss sighed. “I suppose so.”

“And besides,” Rainbow went on, “we don’t have a big gun otherwise.”

Weiss glanced at Blake, wondering if she would be more familiar with Rainbow’s apparent affection for large calibre weapons.

Blake, however, frowned. “We’ve done without in the past.”

“No, we didn’t,” Rainbow said. “Because I’m not just talking about literal big guns — although those can be cool — I’m also talking about…”

“The word you’re looking for might be ‘metaphor,’” Midnight suggested helpfully.

“Yes, that, the big gun is a metaphor,” Rainbow agreed. “You must have noticed that every team has a big gun: maybe they’re really strong; maybe they carry a really big gun; sometimes, they’re really strong and they carry a big gun, but whichever it is, every team’s got one. They’re the one that drops the big hits, that takes out the tough guys, that makes the craters when you need them. Some teams … actually, a lot of teams, now that I think about it, even have two of them. My old team had Applejack and Maud. Sapphire has Sunset. Iron has Xiao-Long and Valkyrie. Weiss, your team has Cardin Winchester.”

“I don’t think Bluebell had anyone like that,” Blake murmured. “And I don’t think it does now, either.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed, her voice quiet. “That’s … not good. They … yeah, that’s not good. They got unlucky. But there’s a spot open now, so maybe—”

“You’re not suggesting they just replace Sky?” Blake asked.

“Teams are four people for a reason,” Rainbow said. “And that team especially can’t get by with just three; admittedly, I don’t know that Dove Bronzewing guy, but I know Lyra and Bon Bon, and I can tell you, that team cannot get by with just three people.”

Blake frowned. “I … I won’t say you’re wrong, but I will say that it sounds … heartless. Like … forgetting Sky. How would you like it if all of your friends just replaced you?”

“That’s different,” Rainbow replied sharply. “We’re not talking about friends here, or not just friends; we’re talking about risking lives out in the field. If I died, then … yeah, sure, I wouldn’t want Pinkie or Fluttershy to forget about me — although I wouldn’t want them to be upset forever either — but I wouldn’t want Applejack or Ciel or you to keep an empty spot open for me forever. I’d want you to find someone else you could rely on to have your back.

“Now that may sound heartless, although I don’t think it is, but getting yourself killed because you chose to permanently compromise your team roster, that’s just stupid. And I’ll tell Bon Bon that myself if I have to; that team needs a heavy hitter.”

“I’m still not sure what this has to do with you taking that weapon,” Weiss said.

“Because Rosepetal’s big gun is Ciel,” Rainbow explained. “And Penny, I suppose, or she will be as she gains more experience. But the point is that neither of them are here right now, and you guys … no offence, but none of you really fill that spot if you know what I’m saying. So I’m hoping that thing there will help me make up the difference.”

Weiss found that she couldn’t be too deeply offended by Rainbow’s answer; she felt slightly as though the other girl had impugned her strength, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny that she wasn’t capable of dealing out the blunt force blows that Dash seemed to be describing. Nobody in their group really was: Flash had a defensive semblance that made him tough in the right conditions but didn’t help him offensively; Blake seemed to specialise, like Weiss herself, in a more precise form of attack. So if a stolen cannon made their pilot feel better, who was Weiss to complain?

“Attention all personnel,” the voice echoed across the hangar of the Faith, as well as blasting through the speakers in the cockpit. “We are commencing the operation. Hangar doors will open in thirty seconds. Recon units, prepare for take-off.”

“This is it,” Rainbow said. “It won’t be long now.”

The plan to rescue the captives was a simple one, but it seemed to Weiss at least to be a plan that was likely to work. It assumed — what was probably a reasonable assumption — that whatever facility was being used to hold the faunus until they were shipped away was not without security, and that security probably consisted of more of those powerful androids adapted from the Merlot Industries designs. That being the case, the operation would unfold in three stages: first, reconnaissance flights to locate the target’s precise position, based on the navigational data they had recovered; second, the airship from the Faith would drop AK-200s, supported by the Military Huntsman company and Number Two Paladin Section of the Tenth Battalion, to assault the facility and draw out the android security; third, Weiss and her allies would use the confusion of the battle to infiltrate the facility and rescue the captives. Once they had done that, more airships from the cruisers Hope and Charity, waiting just offshore, would pick them up, at which point the decision would be made whether to press the ground attack or extract the infantry and destroy the facility via bombing from the cruisers, depending on the tactical situation.

Through the cockpit window, Weiss saw the hangar on the airship open; out there, beyond the rows of waiting Skyrays, she could see the stars gleaming in the night sky.

A pair of Skygraspers, slenderer and more sleek than the bulkier Skyrays, took off into the night sky, blotting out the stars for a moment before they disappeared from view on their reconnaissance.

“Won’t be long now,” Rainbow said.

“Can someone explain one thing to me?” Blake asked. “What is the difference between Military Huntsmen and Specialists?”

Weiss glanced at her. “That sounds like an odd question to ask at this specific moment.”

“I know that the troops going in are Military Huntsmen,” Blake said. “I’m curious as to what that means.”

“It means that they didn’t go to Atlas, and so, they didn’t get the chance to become Specialists,” Rainbow explained. “Atlas graduates who choose to join the military get inducted into the Corps of Specialists, but there are about three or four combat school students for every place at Atlas in any given year. That doesn’t always matter, because there are a lot of people like all my friends who don’t want to go on to Atlas, or like Flash here who go to Beacon instead, but for those who don’t make the cut for Atlas, you can join the regular military, where their training still puts them a cut above recruits from off the street. That’s who Military Huntsmen are; each battalion has an elite company of them, and they get the special assignments.”

Blake frowned slightly. “So your huntsmen are not actually huntsmen; your real huntsmen are called Specialists?”

Rainbow blinked. “Yeah.”

“That sounds unnecessarily confusing,” Blake declared.

Weiss’ scroll went off.

She glanced down at it, unsure of whether or not she ought to answer or not, given the circumstances.

“The recon flight hasn’t even reported in yet,” Rainbow pointed out. “You’ve got time.”

Weiss didn’t acknowledge the other team leader’s words, but she did check to see who it was. The fact that it was Winter calling made up her mind for her, and she answered.

Winter’s face appeared in the screen of her scroll. “Good evening, Weiss,” she said, her voice calm and even.

Weiss smiled slightly. “Good evening, Winter.”

“I just thought I’d call to see how you were doing,” Winter declared. She looked slightly to one side, as though she were trying to peer out of the screen. “That looks like an airship. Where are you?”

Weiss frowned. “You don’t know?”

“Know that you went down to Low Town to investigate some disappearances and you’re now aboard an Atlesian cruiser waiting to assault a possible prison camp?” Winter asked, deadpan. “Yes, I know.” She smiled slightly. “But it would have been funnier if you’d tried to deny it.”

“I’m not ashamed of what I’m doing,” Weiss declared.

“I didn’t say you should be, nor will I,” Winter replied. “Does Father know where you are?”

“I didn’t tell him, although I can’t guarantee the silence of Klein or Whitley,” Weiss said. “If he doesn’t realise I’m not at the manor by now … maybe he won’t. It’s not as if we have family dinner.”

“If he does realise, will you tell him the truth?”

“Do I have a choice?” Weiss asked. “If Klein or Whitley have said anything—”

“Check their stories before you go back, obviously, but even if Father didn’t notice you leave, he’ll probably notice you returning,” Winter said. “Personally … if you get the chance, I’d say that you were out with friends. From what I understand, it’s almost true.”

“'Out with friends,'” Weiss repeated. “With Myrtenaster?”

“The streets can be dangerous at night,” Winter said.

Weiss licked her lips. “Why should I lie about something I’m not ashamed to have done?”

“Because Father might not see it as cause for pride,” Winter reminded her. “Best not antagonise him unnecessarily. That’s how I see it anyway, but now that you’re old enough to go gallivant about rescuing the helpless, I suppose you’re old enough to make your own choices in this regard.” She paused for a moment. “For what it’s worth, whatever you tell Father, whatever he thinks, I’m proud of you, Weiss.”

Weiss’ eyes widened. “Really?”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Winter said. “You didn’t have to leave the Mansion, you didn’t have to agree to help. But you did it anyway, and it was the right thing to do. The huntress thing to do.”

Weiss felt her cheeks heating up. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

The smile disappeared from Winter’s face. “So … you saw Laberna Seacole?”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured.

“How was she?”

Weiss considered her response for a moment. “Not in the best way,” she said. “She was more than just old; she was tired.”

Winter nodded. “Once the Vytal Festival is complete, all our forces will be returning to Atlas. Once I get there, I’ll go and see her myself.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate that.” Said Weiss. “Whenever she was around, I always felt as though there was nothing more important to her than me, and making me happy.”

“I know what you mean,” Winter said. “At least that’s how it was for me before you and Whitley came along. I was never quite the centre of attention after that.”

“That’s not quite—”

“No,” Winter said. “You’re saying that, after all that, she deserves some attention from us in turn.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Weiss asked.

Winter paused. “Talk to Klein,” she suggested. “He might have an idea.”

They were interrupted by a male voice, the voice of a pilot ringing out over the comm system. “Faith, this is Grey One; we are approaching the designated coordinates; there’s definitely something here.”

“Grey One, define ‘something,’ over.”

“A large building, patching you through to my onboard camera now. No lights on, not sure if there’s anyone—” The communications from Grey One cut off abruptly.

“Grey One, this is Faith; please respond.”

“Faith, this is Grey One; we are taking missile fire from the ground, attempting to evade.”

“Grey One, this is Faith; do you have any indication of the strength of the enemy defences?”

“Negative, too busy evading to get a good—”

“Grey One? Grey One, please respond.”

“This is Grey Two. Grey One is down; say again, Grey One is down. Requesting weapons free.”

“Copy that, Grey Two; engage targets, but remember, there may be civilians in the vicinity.”

“Understood, Faith; Grey Two out.”

“This is Faith to all assault flights, location confirmed, and LZ is hot. Take off immediately and make sure to come out swinging.”

“I think that I’d best leave you to it,” Winter said. “Good hunting out there.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said as Winter hung up.

She folded up her scroll and put it away, her hands moving on instinct as her head and eyes turned to once more look out of the cockpit window of Rainbow’s airship, looking out as Skyray after Skyray, the red and green lights blinking on their wingtips, took off, lifting vertically up off the flight deck before soaring outwards into the dark. Four more Skygraspers went with them, each one carrying a bulky Paladin hanging from the slender tail.

“Now it really won’t be long,” Rainbow said. “Our turn next.”

“You want to get her out of there, don’t you?” Blake asked.

It took Weiss a moment to realise what Blake was referring to. “Yes,” she said. “Is that wrong? Or do you think I should want to get everyone out of there?”

“I want everyone to get out of there,” Blake announced. “But if you get just one person, one family, out … that’s a good enough start, as far as I’m concerned.” She fell momentarily silent. “No matter what anyone says to you, no matter what happens to the Schnee name, no matter what you might be accused of … you came to the aid of a faunus from Low Town when no one else would, and that … that is something that you can be proud of, whether you take pride in it or not. I know that I don’t have the right to thank you, but … I’m grateful. If more people were willing to do what you did, the world would be better.”

Weiss glanced away, if only to conceal the extent to which she was proud, whether she ought to be or not. “Flash helped too,” she pointed out.

Blake nodded. “Thank you both.”

“Don’t sell yourself short either,” Flash said.

Rainbow coughed from the cockpit.

Flash looked around theatrically. “Did you guys hear something?”

Blake smiled slightly. “No. I didn’t hear anything at all.”

“That is surprising, since Rainbow—”

“They know, Midnight,” Rainbow said.

“Who said that?”

“Did you say something just so that you could get in on the joke when I responded to you?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Insertion team,” the comms officer of the Faith addressed them through the handset in the cockpit. “Assault units have begun to land and engage hostiles. You're good to go.”

“Copy that, Faith,” Rainbow replied. “Insertion team, taking off now.” She took a deep breath. “'Up, through snow and cold and heart of winter.'”

Weiss felt the airship rise up off the deck beneath her, the stars outside seeming to move downwards a little as the airship ascended.

“Everyone hold on,” Rainbow said. “I’m about to punch it.”

Weiss, who had been standing all this time, hastily joined Flash and Blake in sitting down, and not before time as the Skyray leapt forward with astonishing speed, faster than Weiss had expected, faster than an airship like this had any right to go, streaking through the dark night sky, erupting out of the hangar of the Faith like a missile from its battery, surging through the air like a comet.

“How is this going so fast?”

“Didn’t I tell you that my friends and I rebuilt this ourselves?” Rainbow asked from the cockpit. “We didn’t just stick extra weapons on it; we souped up the engines, too.” She let out a wordless whoop of glee as the airship bore them on, galloping through the sky.

At such speeds, it wasn’t long before they began to approach Long IsthmusBay and the location from which those androids had set out to capture and kidnap the faunus of Low Town.

And as they approached, and as Rainbow slowed down enough to permit it, Weiss and Blake and Flash all rose from their seats and crowded into the cockpit to see what they were approaching.

The first thing they saw were the flashes, the flashes of gunfire, the muzzle flashes illuminating the darkness, flaring briefly then disappearing like candles snuffed out. Weiss could see, in those brief moments of light, the Atlesian knights that looked so small and frail when placed against the Merlot androids that loomed over them, and that seemed, at least from up here, to be mowing them down with their guns and their glaives alike.

The Military Huntsmen also seemed small when compared with their opponents, but they at least were not being cut down, at least not so easily. In the points of light their gunfire created, Weiss could see them scurrying across the open tundra, seeking what cover they could, laying down fire upon their enemies. Every so often, there would be the explosion of a grenade or a rocket. The Paladins seemed slow, almost stationary by comparison: like towers of a castle, or rooks in an inverted game of chess where pawns moved faster. The Skyrays turned and wheeled in the air above the fighting, missiles erupting from out of their noses, the rotary cannons mounted on the sides spitting fire. But some of the airships had been brought down, their wrecks still burning, the fire providing more lasting illumination of the battle than the muzzle flashes could. And by those fires, Weiss could see the red androids advancing.

As in Low Town, their green eyes seemed especially bright in the darkness.

“How do you think they’re doing?” asked Blake softly.

“They’ll be fine,” Rainbow assured them all. “These are Atlesian soldiers; no matter how big and tough these androids are, they’re still just androids. Our guys can hold them off until we do what we need to do.”

Flash pointed out the cockpit window. “I guess that’s our target there,” he said.

Weiss had to squint a little to work out what he meant; upon the shoreline, there was beached an ancient warship, a great dreadnought, its guns stripped out, its superstructure succumbing to the decay of years. It was half in the water, so perhaps it had been a blockship at one time, or some sort of gunnery target for the other vessels. Scattered around were ruins, the last remains of the old harbour, which the Atlesian troops were using as cover where they could.

And as she looked, as she tried to see what Flash had been pointing at, Weiss saw what he meant, and what Grey One had spotted before it came under fire: a large, square building, looking almost like a warehouse, a single building placed here, out on the coast where there was nothing else but history and ruin, with no lights on and no indication of life — except the fact that it was being defended by the horde of androids that had swarmed out to repel the Atlesian intruders.

There was a crane too, which looked as new as the building, although what it had been built to move, Weiss could not have said.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to find out.

As Rainbow guided her airship around the battle, not getting close enough — or low enough — to be detected, circling the fighting before starting to approach the novel installation from behind, she said, “Midnight, take the controls; it’s almost time for me to get off. Once we’re out, fall back but stay on station. Don’t engage; don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Nobody lets me have any fun,” Midnight grumbled.

“Do you understand what you need to do?” Rainbow demanded.

“Yes, Rainbow Dash.”

“Good,” Rainbow said as she unbuckled herself from the pilot’s seat.

“I hope that everyone remembers their landing strategies,” Weiss said.

“Open the doors,” Rainbow ordered as they all stepped out of the cockpit. One of the doors on the side of her airship slid open, exposing them to a blast of chill night air. The wind blew in, making Weiss’ ponytail dance beside her head.

Rainbow grabbed the big gun, cradling it in her arms. Her wings emerged from the back of her somewhat bulky jetpack; they did not extend out all the way, but rather, hung down beside her, forming a sort of horseshoe shape, almost touching the floor.

They had overflown the structure and were already beginning to leave it — and the battle raging on the other side — behind.

“'Up, through snow and cold and heart of winter,'” Rainbow repeated quietly. She raised her voice to bellow, “Okay, let’s go!”

Weiss leapt from the iridescent airship, conjuring a silvery-white glyph beneath her feet that supported her as solidly as the ground. It was just like initiation, really, nothing to it at all: a glyph here, a glyph there, leaping from platform to platform with Myrtenaster in her hand.

Truth to tell, Weiss had always rather enjoyed this, ever since she’d been a little girl. She had used to practice in front of her grandfather, leaping between glyphs about a foot off the ground, daring to go higher; daring, too, for anyone to tell her no or to order her to come back down.

She had loved it then; she could still remember the way that she had laughed for joy as she had — as she had seen it then — flew in the air like a fairy, looking down at the ground that looked so far away to a young girl.

As she descended, leaping downwards, conjuring ever more glyphs to convey her safely from the sky to the earth, she fancied that she could still hear the laughter and encouragement of grandfather, Winter, Klein, and Laberna ringing in her ears.

Not her father, of course. Never Father. But that hadn’t seemed to matter then, and it didn’t matter now. She could hear them willing her on as she made her descent, her glyphs shining in the night like beacons to guide her, until her feet touched the solid ground. Whether it was new concrete that had been laid by whoever had inherited the Merlot Industries assets and raised this building and this crane, or whether it was left over from the war and this place’s past as a naval facility, it didn’t really matter; it was hard and solid all the same.

One by one, her comrades on this mission joined her: Flash had infused his shield, Rho Aias, with gravity dust, allowing him to control the rate of his descent; Blake used her grapple to latch on to the side of the looming unlit crane, and from there, leapt from dark metal strut to bar with nimble agility until she reached the ground; Rainbow, of course, had flown down upon her wings, which now were spread out majestically on either side of her. She had been the first to make landfall, beating even Weiss and her glyphs.

Once they were all on the ground, they advanced cautiously towards the building; Weiss, with her only-human eyes, couldn’t make out any details, but she could see the silhouette of it looming over her nevertheless, a dark mass that blocked out the stars behind it.

A mass which blocked out all but the largest flashes of the battle raging on the other side of the building. The sounds of gunfire and ordnance provided a backdrop to them as they advanced.

“It’s marked,” Blake said. “There’s that M again.”

“You know,” Flash said. “We’ve talked about someone inheriting the assets of Merlot Industries, but … what if it’s really just Merlot Industries?”

“The man survives getting devoured by grimm in Mountain Glenn, doesn’t resurface for years, and then when he does, he’s kidnapping faunus in Atlas?” Weiss asked. “What sense does that make?”

“It makes as much sense as someone splashing someone else’s logo all over the place,” Flash said.

Nobody had very much to say in response to that, so they continued forward in silence. Blake led the way, being as she was the one who could see the best in darkness, and she brought them to a door larger than a man, large enough for one of the Merlot androids to walk through.

It did not open for them, but remained resolutely shut for all that they were standing hard beside it.

Rainbow, who was wearing a pair of crimson goggles over her eyes, leaned forward a little, the barrel of her gun dropping towards the ground. “I don’t see a lock anywhere,” she observed.

“If this is a fully automated facility — which certainly seems to be the case — then it’s not too surprising,” Blake observed. “There’s probably some sort of scanning mechanism that allows androids to trigger the door opening when they approach; there’d be no need to give any human or faunus the ability to get the door open.”

“I can get it open,” Weiss said. “Although it may dampen our element of surprise.”

“Without a lock to pick, the only thing I can think of is to see if a grenade from this thing is enough to blast the door down, which I’m sure would kill our element of surprise worse than anything you could come up with,” Rainbow said.

“Not to mention that the element of surprise won’t mean very much if we’re stuck on the wrong side of this door all night,” Blake murmured.

“Which is to say: go for it,” Rainbow said.

“Very well,” Weiss murmured. “Everyone stand well back,” she added, as she drew back her right arm so that Myrtenaster was level with the line of her shoulders, its tip extending just past her face, and the slender sword pointing towards the stubborn door.

With a flick of her thumb, Weiss rotated the cylinder of dust until the yellow of lightning dust glowed luminous in the visible chamber. With mere thought itself, she conjured her glyphs.

She might not have been able to deploy the summoning half of the Schnee semblance, but if she said so herself, she was very skilled at using her glyphs. She merely had to think them, and they leapt to her command, five spectral forms appearing behind her, bright white in the darkness, and all of them infused with lightning dust.

You know, if I wished, I could make the argument that I’m something of a big gun myself. Perhaps even bigger than Cardin. After all, he might be much bigger and much stronger than she was, but he couldn’t do this, could he?

White laser beams, streaks of pure energy, leapt each from the centre of the glyphs as though they were each a great gun funnelling power out of their barrels. Each beam struck the door at once, blasting it into metal fragments that landed with a clatter upon the inside of the facility said door had guarded.

The four huntsmen waited for a moment, silently, weapons pointed at the open doorway.

There was no response. No hail of bullets issued forth; no android strode through the open entrance to challenge them. There was nothing but darkness, and a silence broken only by the sounds of battle on the other side of the facility.

“I’ll take point,” Rainbow said softly, moving forwards to take the lead, brushing past Blake as she did so. Blake followed as they moved in, then Weiss, then Flash bringing up the rear.

There was a short corridor just within the door, a corridor with only one direction to move, and so … they moved that way, their brisk footfalls squeaking a little upon the floor beneath them. The corridor was sterile, unadorned, undecorated, the kind of place where only an android would feel welcome.

At the end of the corridor was another door; this one rose automatically as they approached, presenting an opening through which they dashed.

They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what lay in the room they entered.

The room they were in was a vast, open-plan space; this place had looked almost like a warehouse from the outside, and from within, it resembled a warehouse crossed with a hospital, or a warehouse being used as a hospital in the wake of some great catastrophe that had left all the actual hospitals stretched to breaking point.

Beds filled the space, metallic beds with stiff black cushioned pads for people to lie on. On some — although not all — of those beds lay people, faunus, young faunus men and women taken from Low Town. One and all, they were hooked up to a variety of advanced medical devices, beeping and whirring and recording data, the import of which Weiss did not immediately grasp.

And they were all dead. Not a one of them moved, not a one of them stirred or spoke or groaned. Not one of their chests rose and fell with their breathing. Not a one. Not a single one.

Here was a place devoid of life.

None of them spoke. Not one of the four huntsmen who had set out upon this rescue said a word as they walked further and deeper into the mortuary. There were no words that they could say. Shock had stolen Weiss’ words away, and she guessed it was much the same for the others also.

Blake had turned pale — even paler than normal, almost as pale as Weiss herself — and her knuckles turned whiter still as her grip upon her weapon tightened. Rainbow’s teeth were bared in a snarl that made her look almost feral, some creature of muscle and violence sprung out of the darkness. Flash looked as though he might be sick.

Weiss felt rather ill herself.

Who would do such a thing? Who could? And even if they could, why would they do it?

How long has this been going on and Atlas did nothing?

What else goes on beneath our noses that we ignore?

“I don’t…” Blake murmured, her voice soft with horror. “I don’t understand. Why? Why any of this … why is any of this happening?”

“I don’t know,” Weiss replied, her voice equally soft. “But we—”

She was interrupted by movement on the other side of the cavernous chamber; there was no door, but there was an archway, divided by a set of plastic sheets like an abattoir. Those sheets of plastic curtains moved as a white droid walked in. This was not a combat android, or at least, it didn’t look the part; it was only about the size of a man, with a claw on one hand and what looked like a drill where its other hand should have been and a pipe connecting the centre of its face to its chest. Weiss guessed it might be some sort of medical droid, although she had never seen its exact type before.

It did not react to their presence. It might not have even had time to see them before Blake, her golden eyes wide with anguish, shot it four times in the head; it barely had a head left as it crumpled to the ground.

“Did you have to do that?” the voice that slid into the chamber like a serpent was that of an older man, fruity and rich. “Attacking my combat androids is one thing, but those medical droids are rare.”

Blake scowled. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Why are you doing this?”

“It is a pity, I know,” the disembodied voice said. “Ideally, genetic sequencing would be done before the abduction; sadly, it isn’t possible to perform the procedure in the field.”

“'Genetic sequencing'?” Blake repeated. “You… you killed all of these people because of their genes?”

“Clever cat, you catch on quickly,” the voice said. “The man to your right had a genetic predisposition towards obesity, the woman behind you to anxiety, the man nearest the door to dementia; diabetes, addiction, alcoholism, autism, the latent presence of all of these conditions can be read in the genetic code like a literature professor discerning the meaning of a poem, and such weaknesses have no place in the new world.”

“So you kidnapped all of these people … and then you murdered them when their genes weren’t perfect?” Weiss demanded.

“Did you know that faunus have a greater genetic diversity than any other species on Remnant?” the voice asked. “Far greater than that found in ordinary humans. And so many latent abilities: night vision, regeneration, flight, superior strength, these are gifts that an ordinary man could only acquire by winning the semblance lottery, and yet, the faunus are born with traits equal to the greatest of spiritual powers and abilities. Small wonder that humans fear and detest them as much as the creatures of grimm; just as pygmies detest great men, so do humans react with angry terror towards that which reminds them of their insignificance.”

“So… what?” Rainbow demanded. “You’re gonna try and put us all down because you’re scared of us?”

The voice laughed. “'Put you down'? Oh my … oh, my dear little filly, you misunderstand completely! Do you suppose that I’m some kind of human supremacist? Do you imagine that I am acting to postpone some sort of great replacement? Do you believe me to be motivated by a sincere concern for the welfare of my people?”

“I kind of assumed you were an evil—”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” the voice cut Rainbow off, leaving Weiss unsure if the man on the other end of the line was denying his racism or his evil. “The truth is, I admire your species greatly; you are truly superior. All I wish to do is harness the genetic advantages that your race is heir to and … combine them … with another superior species which as yet lacks those same advantages.”

Weiss frowned. 'Superior species'? What superior species? The first thing suggested by the words was some kind of chimera faunus, blessed with many traits all at once, but that was impossible, wasn’t it? And even if, by some miracle of perverted science, you could harness the traits of many living faunus and combine them all in a single person, then so what? It wasn’t going to do much to advance the cause of faunus rights for them to look even more like animals — and strange and bizarre animals at that — than they did already. Not to mention the fact one faunus, no matter how many ‘advantages’ they possessed, wasn’t going to turn the tide in favour of the White Fang if they were behind this.

Blake bared her teeth. “Whatever it is you’re doing … it ends, now! We’re here to stop you.”

The voice sighed. “There are times when I wish that someone was able to understand my work, but I see that you’re just like all huntsmen: small-minded, self-righteous moralists. I admit, it was clever of you to stage a distraction, but unfortunately for you, a distraction isn’t much use once it’s been seen through.”

Weiss gritted her teeth. “We need to go.” She gestured towards the plastic curtains from which the late medical droid had so recently emerged. “Come on, this way.”

Flash ran forward, and Rainbow started to follow, only to stop when he saw Blake hesitate. “Blake, come on, let’s go.”

“We can’t just leave them like this,” Blake murmured.

Weiss took a step towards her. “I know it’s hard, but don’t we have to think about those we can still save before those who … those we were too late to rescue?”

“She’s right,” Rainbow said. “We can’t save the dead, Blake; maybe we can avenge them, maybe not, maybe they won’t even care, but we can still save the living. That’s the best thing we can do right now. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Hey!” Flash yelled, from the other side of the curtains through which he had disappeared. “In here!”

They ran — all three of them, Blake included — and they burst through the plastic barrier one by one to see a second wide, cavernous, warehouse space even larger than the medical ward of death that they had just left behind. Large cranes hung from the ceiling, looking as though they were designed to run on rails back and forth from one side of the chamber to the other. On the left hand side of the room, light-blue shipping containers sat on the backs of self-driving trucks, which Weiss guessed were to carry them to the dock where that large crane would load them onto a ship or airship.

And on the other side of the room were the cages, each one large enough to have held an ursa major if pressed to such a use. The pillars that formed the corners of the cages were blood red, with transparent walls woven through with wire mesh filling the space between them. The cages, unlike the containers, were marked by an M, one even more stylised than those found upon the robots themselves.

And in the cages … in the cages, Weiss could see the faunus they had come here to find, dressed in ragged clothes, eyes wide and fearful. Some pounded on the walls of their cages; others sat at the back, hunched, hugging themselves, their eyes hollow and haunted by despair.

“Prim?” Weiss asked as she stepped forward, hoping that her voice could carry through the transparent walls. “Primrose? Is there a Primrose Seacole here?”

Let her not be dead, Weiss thought. After all her grandmother did for me, all that she did for the Schnee family, I cannot return empty-handed.

I gave my word. I gave her the word of a Schnee, and after everything, after my father, she still trusted that that word meant something.

Such faith should be rewarded, not dashed to nothing.

“Primrose Seacole?” Weiss demanded.

“Y-yes,” a young girl raised her hand tremulously. How old she was, Weiss could hardly tell, she had to be older than her sister Lavender, but she seemed … she seemed so very young, perhaps because of how vulnerable she seemed. “I’m Primrose Seacole. Who are you?”

“I’m Weiss Schnee, and I’m here to rescue you,” Weiss declared. “Your grandmother and sister sent me.”

“Ah, so you have a personal motive,” the voice said. “I should have known a Schnee would never act based on anything so base as altruism.”

Weiss scowled. “Considering that one of us has imprisoned these people, and the other is here to save them, I don’t think you have any right to look down upon my family, Doctor Merlot.”

“Ah, so you know who I am,” Doctor Merlot replied. “I would congratulate you for working it out, but to be honest, I’ve hardly been particularly subtle about it, have I?”

“Do you mind telling us how you’re not dead?” Rainbow demanded.

“I was spared so that I could serve a higher purpose.”

“'A higher purpose'?” Blake yelled. “You call this a higher purpose?”

“I would try and explain,” Doctor Merlot went on, “but I doubt that a quartet of feeble intellects like yours, shackled by petty, conventional morality, would be capable of understanding.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “How do we open these cages?”

“I think I have an idea,” Flash said. He retreated backwards to a fusebox on the wall near the archway they had just come through. With a single swing of Caliburn, he opened it up, exposing the wires within to the world.

The ring running around Flash’s shield, displaying what kind of dust he had equipped at any given moment, began to glow yellow. With a grunt of effort, Flash thrust Rho Aias into the fusebox, and then, once the rim of the shield was touching the exposed wires, activated it.

Lightning rippled across the entire length and breadth of Flash’s shield, and after a moment, that flickering of lightning as it discharged was the only thing that Weiss could see as the light shorted out, and the entire warehouse was plunged into darkness.

“The doors are open!” Blake yelled. “Rainbow Dash, give me a hand.”

It’s a good thing somebody can see in the dark, Weiss thought, as she cast a simple glyph beneath her feet. It glowed pale white, enough for her to see the space immediately around her.

But she didn’t need to be able to see in order to hear the clanking sounds out there in the darkness … and she could see the eyes, green and red, illuminating the dark as the androids began to advance upon them.

“Everybody stand clear!” Rainbow yelled as she started firing, the muzzle flashes flickering on her face like a strobe light as the bullets leapt from the enormous barrel of her gun to tear through the Merlot androids.

Weiss could hear the rounds ripping through the armour plate, the metal that had withstood Rainbow’s weapons down in Low Town failing to withstand one of their own guns turned against them.

Blake was firing too, possibly the only one amongst them who could see what to shoot at; the flashes of slower-paced shots of Gambol Shroud flickered off her tense, taut face.

Weiss thought she remembered seeing a ladder against the back wall, a ladder leading up to the roof. She couldn’t see it now, but she cast a line of glyphs, glowing faintly in the darkness, in the rough direction she thought it was. No, not there, the line of glyphs led only to a patch of wall; she let them fade away and then cast others, angling a little more to the right. There! There it was, the ladder. The ladder that was their way out.

“Everyone, up the ladder, now!” Weiss shouted, attempting the tone of command that came so easily to Winter, the tone that was her birthright as a Schnee. “Flash, lead the way.”

Flash did as she bid him. The light of the glyphs glinted like moonlight upon his gilded armour as he crossed the warehouse floor and scrambled up the ladder with surprising speed, considering the armour he was wearing. He must have found a hatch at the top of the ladder, because suddenly, moonlight fell into the lightless warehouse, casting a spotlight upon the floor around the ladder.

Flash disappeared out of the hatch, but less than a moment later, Weiss could see his hands once again as he gestured for the others to follow. By the light of her glyphs, Weiss could see the faunus, released from their cages, climbing the ladder as quickly as they could. Flash reached out to help them.

A grenade fired from Rainbow’s launcher briefly illuminated an android being blown to smithereens. Another grenade set part of the building on fire.

“Get out!” Rainbow yelled. An android fired a grenade back at her, but Rainbow reached out and batted it back with the flat of her hand as though she were playing dodgeball. “Weiss, go first; Blake and I will follow.” She turned to fire another burst from her cannon.

Weiss might have protested if it weren’t for the fact that Rainbow was making perfect sense at this point. It was more rational for the people who could see to stay.

But on the other hand, even if she couldn’t see too well, that didn’t mean she had to be useless.

She rotated the dust cylinder in Myrtenaster to blue ice dust and rammed the blade point-first down into the floor.

An ice barrier erupted from the floor to the ceiling, bisecting the room neatly in half, with the Merlot androids trapped on one side and the huntresses upon the other.

Weiss could already hear the androids hacking away at the ice, trying to break through. No doubt they would do it soon, but at least it meant that they could escape in a slightly less panicked scramble than would otherwise have been the case.

The three of them made it up onto the roof to see the captives from Low Town huddled together upon the edge, pressed together for safety, some of them clinging to one another as they looked from the hatch to their rescuers to the ground; it might not be a great height to a huntress-in-training, but for someone without aura, it probably looked high enough.

Rainbow Dash, the last one up, slammed the hatch shut behind her before tapping the earpiece she was wearing. “Hope, this is Infiltration Team, we have the captives and need an immediate pick-up.”

“Copy that, Infiltration, Hope and Charity have wings out and inbound. We’ve got you covered.”

Already, Weiss could see their lights, closer and brighter than the stars, as the cruisers and their accompanying airships closed upon their position.

The wind rose upon the roof as the air began to hum with the sound of their engines; at this moment, it sounded as sweet as music.

The hatch out of which they had climbed shattered as a red android began to rise out of it, only to have its head blown clean off by the fire of a Skygrasper’s rotary autocannon as the plane began to hover overhead.

More airships were dropping knights, either on the rooftop with them or down below to cover the retreat of the Military Huntsmen, while other airships, empty Skyrays with their doors open, descended to take the faunus onboard.

“Did … did Grandma really send you?” Primrose asked, looking into Weiss’s eyes with hope afresh.

“Yes,” Weiss said, her side-mounted ponytail whipping around her. “Yes, she really did. She sent me, I came, and now I’m going to take you home.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter made it through pretty much unscathed, with only minor tweaks and amendments.

Reunited (Rewritten)

Reunited

The door to the Seacole house was still unlocked when they returned the next morning. It creaked as Primrose Seacole pushed it open, and then took a few tentative steps inside.

Weiss watched her from behind, lingering, unsure of whether or not to follow.

“Hello?” Primrose called. “Grand—”

“Prim!” Lavender yelled as she emerged from out of the gloomy, dimly-lit home to tackle her sister in a hug so fierce, it nearly knocked the older girl off her feet. She wrapped her arms around her sister as she shouted, “Grandma, look; Prim’s back!”

Weiss felt more than slightly like a voyeur for witnessing this moment; she thought that perhaps she ought to have waited further away, so as to better absent themselves from the family reunion altogether.

She knew from personal experience how shameful it could be to have your family moments played out in public for the delectation of others, and although she was mainly thinking of less joyous moments than this by far, she could not imagine that having witnesses to your pleasure was so much better than having witnesses to your pain. Except inasmuch as pleasure was preferable to pain.

But another part of her wanted to be here nevertheless, if only so that Laberna knew that she had kept her promise and that her faith in the Schnee girls had not been in vain.

For that reason, she found herself drawn inside the house, her feet walking forward as though her boots were possessed, carrying her within until she could see Laberna, sat in the same chair as she had been on Weiss’ last visit, her eyes closed, looking as though she might be sleeping.

As though Weiss’ thought had prompted her, Laberna chose that very moment to open her eyes. She spoke, in a voice that remained frail but which nevertheless seemed to grow stronger with every word that passed her wrinkled lips. “Prim? Primrose, is it really you?”

“Yes,” Prim said, her voice sounding a little choked up. She approached her grandmother, though she kept one arm wrapped around her younger sister as she did so. “Yeah, I’m right here, Grandma.”

Laberna let out a long, deep sigh of relief. “Oh, praise be. Thank the God of the Faunus. Praise Him, praise His name.” She sighed a second time. “Come here, child. Let me hold you.”

Both girls flung themselves into their grandmother’s embrace, not just Primrose, but Laberna raised no objection to it. She wrapped her wrinkled arms around both her granddaughters just the same, and held them close as they laid their heads upon her shoulders.

“You’re home now,” Laberna whispered, as though they were still children. “You’re home now, and everything’s going to be okay from now on.”

If only that were true, Weiss thought.

It will be true; I will make sure of it … somehow.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, Prim,” Laberna went on. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push you, not one little bit. You say as much or as little as you need to, and nothing more, understand?”

“I understand,” Prim murmured. “Thanks, Grandma, I … I’m not sure that I really want to talk about it right now.”

“Of course,” Laberna said softly. “Of course. If and when you’re ready, child, if and when.”

Prim seemed satisfied with that. For a moment, she closed her eyes and rested silently in the embrace of her grandmother. After a moment, however, she said, “Grandma, I … I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Laberna asked. “Now what in all of Remnant do you have to be sorry about?”

“All those times when you used to tell stories about working up in the Schnee house, about taking care of the Schnee kids,” Prim explained. “I thought … I thought that you were lying, or else fooling yourself. I thought there was no way that they could possibly give a damn about you or about us. I hated the way that you spent more time with them than you did with your own family.”

She half pulled away from her grandmother and looked back to where Weiss stood, hitherto a silent observer to the scene.

“But a Schnee came to get me. She saved me; she saved all of us. I guess I was wrong about them after all.” She had looked at Weiss but spoken to her grandmother, but now it was to Weiss herself that she said, “I guess … I guess that means that I owe you an apology as well.”

“No,” Weiss said, softly but firmly. “You don’t. What I did … is nothing more than your family deserves from mine. It doesn’t begin to cover the debt that I owe you. That the whole family owes you.”

“Miss Weiss?” Laberna asked. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “Yes, I came back, and I brought your granddaughter with me, just as I said I would.” She had no idea if the old woman could see her smile, but she smiled regardless. “And you don’t need to call me Miss Weiss like that; you’re not my servant anymore.”

“Maybe not, but all the same,” Laberna replied. “Where would you get the idea that you owe me anything?”

A little incredulous scoff escaped from between Weiss’ lips, although she didn’t mean it to. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.

“What’s obvious to me is that Prim is here,” Laberna said. “Primrose is home. You bought my granddaughter back to me, just like you said you would.” She had to pause for breath. “Now, what could you possibly have done to me or mine that would mean we still weren’t square after doing that?”

“Fired you?” Weiss suggested, the incredulity in her tone only mounting. “Thrown you out? Forced you to live … to live here, like this? Have you been here all this time?”

“I never used to live anywhere else,” Laberna said softly.

Weiss was silent for a moment. Shock stole away her voice. Never lived anywhere else. She swallowed. “Even … not even in Grandfather’s time? That’s not possible, Grandfather—”

“Old Mister Schnee was a fine man,” Laberna said. “Hard working, always had the manner of a gentleman no matter who he was speaking with, generous with his time, always willing to help if he could. But he didn’t get to be the richest man in Atlas by giving his lien away, and why should he?”

Because our house could fit this entire town into just one wing? Because you literally raised his daughter, and his grandchildren, and isn’t that worth rewarding, if anything is? Because you spent more time with me than with your own grandchildren, by their account?

Because I thought he was a better man than my father.

Perhaps he still was. After all, Laberna had praised his virtues when she had no cause to do so, and of those virtues, only hard work could possibly be attributed to Jacques Schnee. And yet … and yet, Weiss could not help but feel disappointed. She had thought — and it seemed that Laberna had thought so as well — that going to the aid of the Seacoles, springing into action, was what Nicholas Schnee would have done.

Perhaps it was what he would have done. Likely, it was what he would have done. And yet, Weiss had thought, she had assumed, she had taken from that that Nicholas Schnee would also have rewarded his faithful servants.

But of course, Nicholas Schnee had been a businessman, for all that he had possessed, as Laberna put it, the manners of a gentleman. He had been a frugal businessman nonetheless, and Weiss had been somewhat naïve to forget that.

But if I’m not my father, then I don’t have to be my grandfather, either.

“I promised you that I would bring your granddaughter home,” she said. “I gave you my word as a Schnee, and I kept my word. I give you my word again, now: I will make this right. Because it isn’t right that someone who raised my mother, solaced my grandfather, did so much for me and my family should live … like this. I will make it right.”

Even if I don’t yet know how.

Laberna chuckled. “Well, if you want to, I certainly wouldn’t object. But you’ve done … even if you do nothing else, nothing at all … you put my family back together, and I will always be grateful for that.”

“And I will do more,” Weiss declared. “I swear it. So please … wait for me.”

“Explain something to me,” Blake said.

“What?” Rainbow asked.

Blake paused for a moment to take stock of their situation. She could feel the chill air of Low Town on her face, she could feel the cold metal beneath her, but she could also feel the warmth of the sandwich against her hands and fingers.

“We’re in the dark,” she observed.

“Uh huh,” Rainbow agreed. “Although that shouldn’t bother you because you can see in the dark.”

Blake glanced at her. “If it bothers you that much that you can’t see in the dark, then why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Did I say that it bothered me?” Rainbow responded.

“No,” admitted Blake. “No, you didn’t.” She paused for a moment. “We’re in the dark,” she repeated, “and we’re sitting on the wing of an airship, which is not the most comfortable place to be sitting.”

“Well, I’m sorry that when I upgraded The Bus, I didn’t put padded seats on the wings,” Rainbow replied. “Besides, it’s not that uncomfortable.”

“It certainly isn’t comfortable.”

“There are no comfortable seats around here, take it from me.”

Blake didn’t dispute the point. Rather, she went on, saying, “And we just found out that a true mad scientist, if anyone living deserves that name, has been kidnapping faunus for some kind of twisted experiments — and he’s still out there, somewhere.”

There was a moment of quiet, a quiet that was broken only by the sound of Rainbow munching and chewing. She swallowed. “What are you getting at?”

Blake let out a little snort. “Well … given all that, all that I’ve just said, I was hoping that you might be able to tell me … why I feel so good right now?”

Rainbow swallowed another mouthful of meatball sub. “It’s because Grampa Gruff’s sandwiches are really that good,” she averred.

“Rainbow Dash!” Blake scolded her. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I; I’d forgotten how good these were,” Rainbow said. “Are you not enjoying that?”

Blake was, in fact, enjoying that. She was enjoying it far more than she’d expected when Rainbow had insisted that Blake had to come with her back to Grampa Gruff’s while they waited for Weiss to finish with her business in Low Town.

“You again,” said Grampa Gruff dismissively as they strode in, their presence announced by the jingling of the bell above the door.

“Us again,” Rainbow agreed, a little bit of a swagger in her step compared to their last. “We’re back, having just saved Low Town.”

Grampa Gruff snorted. “'Saved Low Town,' huh?” he repeated. “Let me ask you something, is it still dark outside?”

“Yeah.”

“And are folks still poor out there?”

“Yes,” Rainbow admitted.

“Then you haven’t saved Low Town yet.”

Rainbow pouted, but said, “You know what, you might be right. You’re more than maybe right. But we did stop those kidnappings and rescue a whole bunch of people, so could you turn down the attitude just a little bit?”

“What do you want, a hero’s welcome?”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking for a parade, Grampa; I’m asking for a meatball sub.”

Grampa Gruff was silent for a moment. “Those kidnappings have really stopped?” he demanded.

“Yep,” Rainbow declared. “They won’t be bothering Low Town anymore.”

Grampa Gruff nodded thoughtfully. “Well,” he said, “I guess maybe that does deserve a sandwich. That’ll be five lien.”

Rainbow stared at him.

“What? You thought I was going to give it away for free?” Grampa Gruff demanded.

“No, I don’t know why I was that naïve,” Rainbow muttered. She stuck her hand into one of her jacket pockets. “What do you want, Blake? It’s my treat.”

“Um…” Blake looked over Grampa Gruff’s head to see the selection and prices. “I’ll have a tuna melt, please.”

Rainbow glanced at her. “You’re such a stereotype sometimes.”

“It is very nice,” Blake admitted. She took another bite out of her tuna melt; it was incredibly succulent, and rich upon her tongue. The cheese and the tuna blended together masterfully. “But I don’t think that’s it.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed, her tone becoming a little more serious. “You feel good because you’ve done good. Because we did a good thing. A simple good thing. We stopped the bad guys, we saved the people, we did save Low Town, no matter what Grampa Gruff says. Okay, sure, we haven’t saved it from everything that’s wrong with it, but we saved it all the same. People are back home where they belong, with their families. We did a good thing.” She paused. “That’s why I’m wearing sunglasses in the dark.”

Blake blinked. “Because we did a good thing?”

“A good thing, and a cool thing,” Rainbow insisted. “We did something unambiguously good and cool and heroic, and moments like these … don’t come around often enough.”

“But Merlot is still out there,” Blake pointed out.

“So is Salem,” Rainbow said. “So are the grimm. So … it never ends. There’s always something. You know what the biggest difference between real life and a story is?”

“I’ve got ideas, but you clearly have a thought in mind.”

“We never get to reach ‘safe’,” Rainbow said. “We never get to reach that point where the hero can look back at everything he’s done and realise that that’s it. He’s wrapped up everything they needed to. We don’t have that luxury because we’ll never be done … but that doesn’t mean that we can’t celebrate the wins, if only with a nice sandwich on top of the wing of an airship.” She grinned. “And you know that, because that’s why you feel so good: it’s your heart telling you that you did good today.”

But what happens now? Blake wondered. She thought about asking Rainbow, but decided against it. Like Rainbow had just said: moments like these were rare enough that they shouldn’t be disturbed too much.

And besides, it wasn’t as though nothing was being done. General Ironwood was going to reach out to the Valish to take another look at records of the fall of Mountain Glenn and see whether there was any way Doctor Merlot could have survived. The Atlesians themselves were investigating the ruins of the facility where the faunus prisoners were being held. Something might yet result from one or both of those efforts.

And if Doctor Merlot tried anything like this again, Atlas would be more on guard against him.

She hoped it would, at least.

Blake shook her head a little. She might not be spoiling the moment for Rainbow Dash, but she was on the verge of spoiling it for herself. Rainbow was right: they had won a victory, they had saved lives, they had accomplished everything a huntress should. She should savour the taste of that.

Especially when it tasted like this delicious tuna melt.

“Blake?” Weiss called out. “Rainbow Dash?”

“We’re up here,” Blake replied, since she could see Weiss down below, but it was clear from the way that she was looking around that Weiss could not see them. “On the wing.”

Weiss looked up; perhaps she still couldn’t see them in the gloom, but the direction alone was enough for her to conjure a staircase of glyphs, each one higher than the other, rising in a spiral up which she leapt with a dancer’s agile grace until she jumped lightly onto the wing beside them.

“What are you doing up here?” she asked.

Rainbow shrugged. “Don’t you ever do things for no reason?”

“Not really,” Weiss said.

“Maybe you should start,” Rainbow suggested.

“How was it?” Blake asked.

“They were all very happy to be reunited,” Weiss said as she sat down beside them, her legs dangling down over the side of the wing. “And very grateful. Too grateful.” She sighed. “More grateful than I deserved.”

“You saved that girl’s life,” Rainbow pointed out. “You reunited her with her family.”

“What kind of life?” Weiss replied. “What kind of life will she have, growing up here, in this place? It isn’t right, not for someone who once served the Schnee family so well.”

“It isn’t right for anyone,” Blake murmured.

“I know,” Weiss allowed. “But you were the one who told me it was alright to only care about the Seacoles.”

“I’m not criticising,” Blake said hastily. “I’m just … pointing it out.”

Weiss was silent for a moment. “I promised to get her out,” she said. “But I’ve no idea how.” Her scroll buzzed. She took it out, and then promptly put it away again. “And now my father has realised I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

Rainbow looked from Blake, to Weiss, then back to Blake again. “You two want to grab some lunch?” she asked abruptly.

Blake frowned, wondering at the relevance. “We’ve just eaten,” she pointed out.

“This won’t be a very filling lunch; don’t worry,” Rainbow replied.

“Why are you talking about lunch at all?” asked Weiss.

“Because Councillor Cadance mentioned that she wanted to meet Blake, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company tagging along as well,” Rainbow replied. “Maybe she’ll have some idea on how to help your old nanny, or help Low Town. And … I think you’ll like her,” she added to Blake. “And she wanted to meet you.”

“Is this the Councillor whose wedding was—?”

“She doesn’t hold a grudge,” Rainbow assured her. “Cadance isn’t like that.”

Then why does she want to meet with me? Blake wondered. Then she wondered if it really mattered why the Councillor wanted to meet with her. The fact of the matter was that she did want to meet, and that was an opportunity not to be squandered. Her parents would have given their right arms for a meeting like this during their campaigning days.

“I’m in,” Blake said.

“So am I, if the Councillor is willing to see me,” Weiss added. “If she’s willing to see any of us at such short notice.”

“I’m certain that she’ll be able to fit us in,” Rainbow said. “Just let me make the call.”

She wolfed down the rest of her sandwich, then leapt off the wing of the airship to land upon the ground below.

Blake could still hear her down there, although she couldn’t see the face of Councillor Cadance; Rainbow’s scroll was now too far away for that.

She could hear her voice emerging from the device well enough though, even if she had to prick up her ears to do so.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said. “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure over the last night.”

“News travels fast,” Rainbow observed.

“It pays for someone in my position to keep abreast of events,” Councillor Cadance replied. “Does your call relate to this business in Low Town, or is something else going on that I should be aware of?”

“It’s kind of related,” Rainbow said. “Do you remember you told me you wanted to speak to Blake Belladonna? Well, would you be able to fit her in … today? Oh, and Weiss Schnee, as well.”

“A Belladonna and a Schnee in the same room?” Councillor Cadence asked. “How did you manage that?”

“It just… sort of happened,” said Rainbow Dash. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sure there’s a story there,” Councillor Cadance said. “This is a little short notice, Dash—”

“Sorry.”

“But I’ll be able to fit you in at noon,” Cadance went on. “Bring them to my office then.”

“Yes, ma’am; we’ll be there.” Rainbow said. She closed her scroll. “You guys hear that?”

“Loud and clear,” Blake replied.

“That’s okay with you both, right?”

“It’s fine with me,” Blake said.

“It’s acceptable,” Weiss murmured. “Although I wonder how many times my father will call by then.”

Blake glanced at her, but found that she was unsure what, if anything, she could or ought to say upon the subject. So she found herself saying instead, “What are we going to do until then?”

“Well, if we’re going to meet with a Councillor,” Rainbow said, “we should probably take the time to shower and change.”

That was easier said than done in Weiss’ case. Rainbow Dash, of course, could go back to Atlas Academy to shower and change out of her combat gear into the white uniform of the academy; Blake could go back to the house of a friend where she was staying while she was in the city — Weiss didn’t know what she was going to end up wearing, but presumably, Blake had options.

But Weiss … Weiss had many outfits perfectly suitable to wear when meeting an Atlesian Councillor, of course, and she had worn many of them to do just that, if only as a decorative ornament standing just behind her father. But all of her suitable outfits, not to mention her shower, were back at Schnee Manor, and Weiss had a sense that when she arrived back at her father’s house, she would not be leaving, at least not in time to make a noon appointment with Councillor Cadenza.

Which was why, as Rainbow’s airship carried the three of them up from Low Town back to Atlas, Weiss stepped into the cockpit and said, “Rainbow Dash? I might need a little of that Civis Atlarum Sum assistance that you once promised me?”

Rainbow glanced at her. “I was starting to think that I’d offended you with that,” she said softly.

“I know that you didn’t mean to,” Weiss replied, “but … as a huntress, I can make my own way on the battlefield.”

“I never meant to imply you couldn’t,” Rainbow said, “but there are some things that even the best huntress can’t handle alone.”

“Indeed,” Weiss murmured. “Just so long as you don’t call me ‘Miss Schnee,’ we’ll be fine.”

Rainbow smiled. “Right. So, what can I do for you?”

“Can I come back to the Academy with you?” Weiss asked. “As you say, we could use a shower, and I … it would be best if I didn’t go home right away.”

“That’s it?” Rainbow asked. “Yeah, sure, you can do that. Do you need to borrow some clothes as well?”

“No, thank you, at least I hope not,” Weiss replied. “I’ve got an idea about that.”

She stepped out of the cockpit, and got out her scroll.

There was another missed call from her father, but Weiss ignored it. Rather, she texted Klein.

Weiss: Please call me when my father isn’t around to overhear.

She was rewarded with a call mere moments after she had sent the message.

“That was a very prompt response, Klein,” Weiss observed as she answered.

“Thank goodness I heard from you, Miss Weiss,” Klein said. “I was beginning to grow a little concerned.”

“I’m fine, Klein,” Weiss assured him. “And so are all the Seacoles. Everything … well, everything immediate has been taken care of.”

“You found the missing girl?”

“Yes,” Weiss said, “and others besides.”

Klein smiled. “Congratulations, Miss Weiss. And how is old Mrs. Seacole?”

“Not too well, I’m afraid,” Weiss murmured. “I’m going to try and get her out of there, which is somewhat in relation to why I’m calling you.”

“You’re not coming home then?” Klein asked.

“Not right away, no,” Weiss replied.

“I see,” Klein said softly. “I’m afraid that Mister Schnee has noticed your absence. I told him that I had no idea where you were, and you must have departed without me noticing or being informed.”

“That was very kind of you, Klein, but a big risk,” Weiss said. “If Whitley tells Father the truth—”

“Mister Schnee has not asked Master Whitley if he has any information,” Klein informed her. “He doesn’t seem to consider that Master Whitley might know anything.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Weiss said. “Klein, I know this may be difficult, but can you get out of the house and meet me at Atlas Academy with a change of clothes? I’m about to meet with a member of the Council, and I’d rather not do it in the same outfit I’ve been wearing all night.”

“I will do my best, Miss Weiss. Is there anything in particular that you would like to wear?”

Weiss chuckled. “Something smart,” she said, “but something that you can get out of the house easily. Other than that, I trust your judgement.”

“I will do my best not to disappoint you, Miss Weiss.”

Weiss smiled. “You never do.”

And indeed he did not. Klein was waiting for her when she arrived at Atlas Academy, with a royal blue — not her favourite colour, but it did flatter her eyes — midi dress, with a square neck and short sleeves extending just past the shoulders. The skirt was somewhat layered, descending just past her knees and flaring out on the left hand side. A sash of the colour as the dress clinched around the waist, held in place by a buckle of diamonds and pearls. Klein had also brought her a crisp white jacket to wear over the top.

“Thank you, Klein,” Weiss said, as she received the dress and jacket both. “This will do nicely.”

“Always a pleasure to be of service,” Klein said. He paused for a moment, before he added, “I must say, Miss Weiss, your father is rather upset with you for your absence. I’m afraid that when you do come home, he will have hot words for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Weiss said softly. “Thank you for telling me, but … I don’t think I could have done anything else but what I’ve done.”

“No, Miss, I’m sure you’re right,” Klein said. “And I, for one, wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Weiss was recognised in Atlas Academy — how could she not be, being the daughter of Jacques Schnee, the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company? — but fortunately, the academy was sparsely populated at present, and though the few students that she passed along the corridors gawked a little and whispered somewhat, nobody approached her, or even said anything. As a result, she was able to reach the Team RSPT dormitory, borrow Rainbow Dash’s toiletries — the other team leader seemed a little embarrassed by the fact that it was two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, as if she expected Weiss to turn her nose up at it out of sheer snobbery — and hit the shower before changing into the dress Klein had provided for her.

Black stockings wouldn’t have particularly gone with the dress — and neither would the grey Atlas Academy stockings she could have borrowed from Rainbow Dash — so it would just be her white boots, and a little touch of her legs bare to the world. Fortunately, the heating grid would stop her from getting too cold.

“How do I look?” she asked Rainbow Dash.

“I’m the last person to judge, but … I think you look nice,” Rainbow replied. Her brow furrowed. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“That depends.”

“How did you get that scar?”

Reflexively, Weiss’ hand went to the scar that crossed her left eye. “That…”

“You don’t have to say. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Weiss interrupted. “This scar … my father’s test. Before he would allow me to go to Beacon, before he would allow me to represent the Schnee family at Beacon, I had to prove myself. Prove that I wouldn’t embarrass him and the family name.”

“You had to fight someone,” Rainbow said.

“Something,” Weiss clarified. “A grimm. A geist, possessing a suit of armour.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “You … your father … your father caught a grimm, stuck it in a suit of armour, and had you fight it?”

“As I said, I had to prove myself.”

Rainbow stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open, hands hanging limp by her sides, looking as though she were seeing Weiss with new eyes. “That … okay, now I get why you were insulted.”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you were,” Rainbow said. “And regardless of my motives, you had a right to be, because you’re the real deal, aren’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t say so,” Weiss said softly. “Not yet, anyway. But I can try to be, by fighting my own battles and by helping others whenever I can.”

Like the Seacoles.

I’ve saved Primrose; now … now I need to save the family.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is lengthened a bit by the addition of a scene of Blake and Rainbow Dash, as well as by a little bit more with Weiss preparing to meet Cadance, setting up the next chapter.

Artwork by MiChumi

Meeting With the Councillor (New)

Meeting with the Councillor

Weiss had met Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza before, but never spoken to her. The Councillor was about of an age with Winter, although there were precious few other similarities between them, at least physically: Councillor Cadenza was much softer in the face, with long hair that fell down her back and across her shoulders, curling in rolls at the tips and coloured in shades of pink, with a streak of gold. A pair of rings, both gold, one plain and one bearing a large, square-cut diamond flanked by twin sapphires, sat upon a finger on her right hand; a sapphire heart, set in a golden necklace, embraced her throat.

The Councillor was not alone in her gleaming office — so gleaming that it reflected the appearances of the three visitors as they walked inside. A man stood at the side of her desk, a tall man, and squarely built, with a firm jaw and broad shoulders. His eyes were a light cerulean blue, and while his hair contained streaks of the same, it was, in the main, a darker shade, shading very dark blue in places, although rarely. He was dressed in the red jacket with gold facings of the Atlesian Guard, a very prestigious but largely ceremonial regiment established to protect Atlas itself; the blue sash that ran from his right shoulder down to his left hip doubtless meant something, but Weiss did not know what.

Councillor Cadenza stood in front of her desk and smiled at the three of them as they came in. “Welcome. Thank you for coming, all of you.”

“Thank you for having us, ma’am, especially at such short notice,” Rainbow said. She came to attention and saluted. “Good to see you again, Major.”

The man in the uniform — Major someone, apparently — saluted back. “Hey, Dash. How have you been?”

There was a degree of amusement in her voice as Councillor Cadenza said, “Maybe this isn’t the best time for you two to catch up.”

The Major smiled. “Right. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime, Dash.”

“Is that an invitation, sir?”

“It’s me saying I’ll talk to Mom and Dad and see if we can make it a whole family thing,” the Major said.

“I’ll look forward to that, sir,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Weiss and Blake, who stood on either side of her. “Ahem, Councillor, Major, allow me to introduce Blake Belladonna and, well, Weiss Schnee, you probably already know, but … Weiss Schnee. Weiss, Blake, allow me to present Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza and Major Shining Armor Cadenza Sparkle, Captain of the Council Guard.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Blake said, bowing her head respectfully. “Major and Captain?”

“Major is the rank I’m paid at; Captain is my job description,” Shining Armor supplied helpfully.

“Sometimes, I think the Atlesian military delights in being confusing,” Blake murmured. “But, as I say, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She paused for a moment. “Councillor … Ma’am…” She bowed her head. “I owe you an apology; I owe you both an apology—”

“Miss Belladonna,” Councillor Cadenza cut her off, “are you currently a member of the White Fang?”

“No!” Blake cried, her head snapping up. “No, I—”

“Then what do you have to apologise for?” Councillor Cadenza asked, smiling warmly.

If that’s how you feel, then why is your husband the soldier here? Weiss could not help but wonder, although she did not give voice to her suspicion.

“In any case,” Councillor Cadenza added, “it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Belladonna; and you, Miss Schnee, although I believe we’ve met before.”

“Yes, I think we have, Councillor, and more than once,” Weiss said. “Although I think this might be our first time speaking.”

The smile faltered a little on Councillor Cadenza’s face. “Yes,” she said softly. “I … I can’t imagine that it’s easy growing up as the daughter of a man like Jacques Schnee.”

That was a statement that could mean almost anything, from ‘I’m sorry that you’ll struggle to escape the shadow of such a titan of industry’ to ‘I’m sorry that you’re put on a pedestal as the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company’ all the way to ‘I’m sorry that your father is abusing you.’ Of course, the studied ambiguity of it was precisely the point.

After all, she is a politician.

“Yes,” Weiss said quietly. “Yes, it has its … unique challenges.”

Councillor Cadenza’s smile returned, seeming at least to be sympathetic. “Please,” she said, “sit down, all of you. I even had chairs brought in specially. And a table.”

“I thought your office looked a little more cluttered than normal,” Rainbow said as she reached for one of the black office chairs sitting against the wall. They all took one and placed them around the small table — also black — that sat in front of the Councillor’s desk. A tray of small sandwiches — with a variety of meat, fish, and vegetarian fillings — sat upon said table, along with a pot of something warm and a bowl of potato chips.

“I told the catering team that I was having a working meeting,” Councillor Cadenza explained as she herself took a seat in front of her desk, facing the three young huntresses across the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Weiss, who, unlike the other two, hadn’t eaten anything yet.

“There’s no need to call me 'ma’am,' or 'Councillor,'” Councillor Cadenza admonished. “We’re in private, and you’re friends of Rainbow Dash, so 'Cadance' will be fine.”

“I call you ma’am in this office, ma’am,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Then consider this the point made that you don’t have to all the time,” Cadance said brightly.

Rainbow glanced up, as though the ceiling was going to take offence at the lack of decorum.

That sounded harsh, when the truth was that Weiss understood what Rainbow meant. She probably did call Cadance ‘Cadance’ in other settings — like this hypothetical family dinner to which she would be going if and when Shining Armor arranged it — but in this office, it was different. Because this wasn’t just an office; it was a Councillor’s office. It was the office of an Atlesian Councillor.

The majesty of Atlas dwelt within this office.

And yet Cadance had just set it aside, and for Blake too. If she’d done so just for Weiss, then Weiss might, to be honest and a little cynical, have suspected flattery. But she had done so for Blake as well. Which suggested to Weiss that she was genuine in her intentions. She really did want to reduce the level of formality between them.

“Thank you, Cadance,” she said. She reached out towards the tray of sandwiches.

Her scroll went off. It was set to vibrate, but that didn’t make the buzzing it made to produce the vibrations quiet by any means. Weiss ignored it and picked up a ham sandwich from off the tray. Her scroll continued to go off as she took a bite out of said sandwich. It was a little thin, both in terms of the bread and the filling, but it did not taste bad.

Cadance’s eyebrows rose. “Do you need to get that, Miss Schnee?”

“No,” Weiss said at once. “It’s my father. And, please, call me Weiss.” She smiled. “It doesn’t seem right that you should address me more formally than I address you.”

Cadance did not respond to that; rather — her eyebrows climbing just a little higher up her forehead — she asked, “Is there a reason you don’t want to speak to your father?”

Weiss winced. “He … doesn’t know how I spent last night.”

Cadance’s eyebrows were in danger of disappearing from view. “Does he know where you are?”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted.

Cadance exchanged a glance with her husband.

“Do you want me to guard the door?” Shining Armor asked, a hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his lips.

“No,” Cadance replied. “But perhaps we should get this over with before Jacques Schnee calls the police. And yet…” She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. “I want — I need — to start by commending all three of you for what you did last night. I know that two of you, at least, have experience in going above and beyond your calling as students; I know that two of you have been repeatedly asked to go above and beyond your calling as students. But the fact remains that you did so again last night, without being asked, and even if you had been asked, you would have had every right to refuse. But you didn’t, and that does you credit.”

Weiss felt a faint blush of pride rising to her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“With respect,” Blake said, leaning forward herself in turn, “it wouldn’t have been necessary for us to do ourselves credit if the authorities here in Atlas had done their jobs.”

“Were these disappearances reported to the police?” Shining Armor asked.

“No,” Rainbow murmured.

“Then what were the authorities supposed to investigate?” demanded Shining Armor. “How were they supposed to stop disappearances they didn’t know were happening?”

“Maybe you should ask why the people of Low Town didn’t want to talk to the police, didn’t trust the authorities, even as their neighbours were vanishing off the streets,” Blake snapped.

“Blake, calm down,” Rainbow urged.

“No, Rainbow Dash, it’s fine,” Cadance said quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with being passionate. And it’s not as if Blake — can I call you Blake, or would you prefer Miss Belladonna?”

“'Blake' will be fine,” Blake said softly.

“You have a point, Blake,” Cadance said. “My husband has a point as well, that it is difficult to investigate crimes that haven’t been reported, but to use that as a shield, we must, as you remind us, ask ourselves why it is that the people of Low Town prefer to let crimes committed against them go unreported.” She let out a sigh. “The truth is, of all the problems confronting Atlas, the greatest, to my mind, is the breakdown of trust in our institutions amongst the people of Low Town and Mantle. The police, the military, even the Council itself, people have lost faith that these institutions are acting in their interests.”

“With good reason,” Blake pointed out.

“I don’t deny that,” Cadance replied. “But how to address it? People don’t trust the police, so they don’t talk to the police; the police don’t investigate crimes because the crimes aren’t being reported to them; trust in the police falls even further because they’re not investigating these crimes; it’s a vicious cycle. A cycle that must be broken … somehow.” She paused. “If any of you have any suggestions, any at all, I’d love to hear them.”

Rainbow glanced aside and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Well, I mean … it isn’t just that crimes aren’t reported,” she murmured.

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake asked, a rising inflection in her voice.

Rainbow didn’t look at either Blake or Cadance. “In Mantle, not too long ago … a friend of Ciel and Neon — that’s Ciel Soleil, my teammate, and Neon Katt, a fellow Atlas student — a friend of theirs, an old lady from their church, had her head bashed in by some punk from her block. They found her, they reported to the police, and the police were pretty up front that they weren’t going to do anything about it. I don’t know whether they’re incompetent or underfunded or they just don’t care, but if we want people to start trusting the police — and cut the legs out from under Robyn Hill while we’re at it — maybe a kick up the backside and a budget increase would be a place to start?”

“'A budget increase'?” Weiss repeated. “After ignoring a murder?”

“I know it doesn’t sound good,” Rainbow replied. “But if they’re under-resourced—”

“I don’t suppose you have the name of the officer in question?” asked Cadance, her expression sharpening, even as her voice remained soft and calm and gentle.

“Uh, no,” Rainbow admitted. “No, I don’t.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Cadance murmured. “Still, thank you for bringing it to my attention. It seems the problem may go even deeper than I thought. Anything else?”

“We could get people out of Low Town?” Rainbow suggested. “I mean … it’s easy to feel like Atlas doesn’t care about you when you’re stuck in a crater right underneath Atlas with no light.”

“Speaking for myself, I didn’t even know that Low Town existed until this errand brought me there,” Weiss added softly.

Cadance glanced at her. “That’s not too surprising,” she said. “After all, you are—”

“A Schnee?” Weiss asked. “So that excuses my ignorance?”

“'Excuses'? That isn’t for me to say,” Cadance said. “But 'explains'? Certainly.”

“There’s nothing to excuse,” Blake said. “Even if you’d known, what could you have done? The real question is, how many other Atlesians are similarly ignorant?”

“The faunus of Low Town aren’t invisible,” Rainbow said. “Some of them have jobs that take them up to Atlas: electricians, plumbers—”

“But do the people whose boilers they fix know where their plumber or their electrician live?” Blake demanded.

“I don’t know; does anyone think about where their plumber lives?” Rainbow responded.

“I just pay the guy,” Shining Armor said.

“Is ‘the guy’ a faunus?” asked Blake.

Shining Armor hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” he admitted.

Cadance glanced at him.

Shining Armor said, “Like Rainbow said, I’ve never thought about it.”

“No,” Cadance murmured. “Neither have I.”

“If they lived in Atlas, then they wouldn’t have any problems,” Rainbow declared.

“'Any problems'?” repeated Blake sceptically.

“Well, not nearly as many.”

“But how would they live in Atlas?” inquired Cadance. “Where?”

“The farmland?” Rainbow suggested. “It’s not like we need it to live.”

“That’s debatable,” Cadance murmured. “And in any case, even if that were true, and even if everyone in Low Town were amenable to such a move — because if even some of them wanted to stay down below you’ve just made things worse for them — you’re talking about compulsory purchase, state-driven redevelopment, resettlement, not to mention the public relations aspect to manage the reactions of the people already living in Atlas. You’re talking about battles in the Council Chamber and in public. It will take time, if it happens at all.”

“I don’t think there’s a quick fix for this,” Blake pointed out. “If people don’t believe that the institutions of Atlas are working for them, then respectfully, might I suggest that the only way to change that perception is for those institutions to work for the people in a sustained way. That is the only thing that will change attitudes and that will take time.”

“I don’t deny it,” Cadance said, “but I was hoping for something that would start to show effects a little faster.”

Weiss pursed her lips together. “Rainbow Dash, these people from Low Town who work in Atlas, how do they get there?”

“A shuttle,” Rainbow replied. “Why?”

“And how many times does it run?” asked Weiss.

“Twice in the morning, once in the afternoon, once in the evening, once at night, there and back.”

“Five trips per day,” Weiss said. “And in the meantime, you’re stuck, either in Low Town or in Atlas.”

Rainbow nodded.

“One thing that could be done more quickly than moving everyone up to Atlas is to perhaps give them the same freedom of movement enjoyed by everyone else,” Weiss suggested. “I can’t think of anyone else in the kingdom who is so restricted in when and where they can travel.”

“You mean more shuttles?” Rainbow asked.

“Or an elevator connecting Atlas to Low Town, there has to be something,” Weiss said. “Some alternative to mass commuting at set times. How pleasant are those shuttles?”

“Not very,” Rainbow admitted.

“Then surely it’s worth at least considering,” Weiss said. “It sounds as though almost anything would be an improvement.”

“I mean, if we’re only talking about improvements,” Rainbow added. “Even if the Council doesn’t want to spend the lien to get people out of Low Town … I mean, there’s a reason I left, and I didn’t look back until now. After I’d been in Atlas, after I’d been in Canterlot … I hated going back home; it was dark, it was cold, it was awful; I mean, I didn’t like it very much when I didn’t know any better, but after I knew better … even if we can’t get everyone out of Low Town, could we not at least fix Low Town so it isn’t such an unbearable place to live?” She paused, running one hand through her rainbow hair. “If … if we’re a shining kingdom, then why do we have people living in the dark? If we’re the greatest kingdom in Remnant, then why do we have people living like that?”

Cadance smiled slightly. “'If we are a shining kingdom, then why do we have citizens living in the dark'?” she repeated. “That’s very good, Rainbow Dash. You should join my speechwriting staff.”

Rainbow snorted. “Thanks, but … no thanks.”

“So what would you have in mind?” Cadance asked. “What improvements to make life down in Low Town more tolerable?”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Lights?” she suggested. “An improved heating grid? Real houses, maybe? To be honest, you’d get better ideas if you went and asked someone who actually lived in Low Town, rather than someone who moved out a while back.”

“Would you be willing to do that for me?” Cadance asked. “The more specific concepts I can put before the rest of the Council, the better.”

Rainbow nodded. “Sure thing.”

Cadance glanced at Blake. “Blake, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“What?” Blake replied.

“Given everything,” Cadance said. “Given our flaws … why … what do you see when you look at us?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Are you asking me why I might want to come here?” she asked.

It was Cadance’s turn to take a brief pause. “I suppose I am, yes,” she said softly.

“Because I’m sitting in the office of a Councillor, discussing what can be done about these problems,” Blake said. “And yes, you’re right, there are problems, there are flaws. I remember when I first met Rainbow Dash, she talked to me like Atlas was perfect, flawless; I didn’t believe that, and I don’t think that even Rainbow Dash believes that any longer, in the same way that I don’t believe any longer that you’re the oppressors of my imaginings. Atlas is flawed, as all the kingdoms of Remnant are flawed — when it comes to the issue of the faunus, and probably a lot of other ways as well. But like I said, I’m sitting in the office of a Councillor, talking and listening to you talk about what can be done to fix those problems, to correct those flaws. I can’t think of another kingdom where that would be true. Would I get this kind of an audience in Mistral, or even in Vale?

“Atlas isn’t perfect, not yet; it might not even be better than any other kingdom. But it’s trying to be, and that … that counts for a great deal.” Blake smiled. “And, I have to admit, you do turn out some pretty good people up here in the north.”

It was rather subtle, but Weiss fancied that she saw the smile on Cadance’s face grow ever so slightly wider as Blake spoke.

She turned her attention back to Weiss. “I’m sorry, Weiss; I said that we would get through your business quickly, and yet, so far, we’ve discussed everything but your business.”

“It’s fine,” Weiss assured her. “What I have to ask isn’t more important than anything else.”

“Perhaps not, but getting you home might be,” Cadance reminded her. “So, what is it that you wanted to ask?”

“Down in Low Town, there is a family,” Weiss said. “A grandmother and two granddaughters. The old woman’s name is Laberna Seacole, and she was my mother’s nurse, and after that, my own and that of my siblings. My father let her go, and since then … I’m afraid she might be ill. She’s definitely poor. I’m well aware that this is favouritism, but this is a woman who solaced the last hours of Nicholas Schnee, who raised his daughter, who raised his granddaughters. If Atlas owes my grandfather a debt — and it does; this kingdom would be nothing if not for the sweat of Nicholas Schnee’s brow — then doesn’t it also owe something to his faithful servant? More to the point, I’ve given my word that I would get her — get all of them — out of the squalor in which they live. Which was arrogant of me, I know, because I have no power to make it happen. But you do, and so … in spite of the fact that this is our first time speaking, I was hoping that you would help me.”

Which I realise now might also be said to be rather arrogant of me.

Cadance leaned back in her chair. “Two granddaughters, you say?”

“Yes,” Weiss replied. “Is that a problem?”

“It does complicate things,” Cadance admitted. “A case could be made, as you say, that Atlas owes this Laberna Seacole a debt in respect of her service to Jacques Schnee, but her granddaughters have no such claim on our largesse, and it may be that their grandmother has not long left. It would be a cruel thing to lift the grandchildren out of poverty for a little while only to throw them back again. How old are they?”

“Young,” Weiss said. “Younger than I am.”

“Hmm,” Cadance said. “Do you think they’d be interested in learning how to protect themselves, and possibly even others?”

“I really have no idea,” Weiss answered. “Why?”

“Because Canterlot offers bursaries,” Cadance said. “Education is free, as Rainbow Dash knows well, but there are grants in place to help with living expenses, and Principal Celestia has been known to do me a favour from time to time. As has General Ironwood, if it comes to it. That will take care of them for a few years, and after that, they may want to go to Atlas, or one of the other Academies, and see where life takes them from there. And the money will help their grandmother, and if she needs help moving then … that can be arranged. In the meantime, I will see about granting Mrs. Seacole a special pension, in recognition of her service to Atlas, but that should take care of her grandchildren even after she’s gone.”

Weiss gasped. “Just … just like that?”

“Sometimes, things aren’t complicated,” Cadance told her. “Sometimes, we get the chance to get things done, and to do the right thing quickly and easily. That being said, it isn’t quite ‘just like that’; I still need to make a few calls. And, of course, the family will need to agree.”

“Of course,” Weiss said. She hesitated. “Once I get home, I’m not sure I’ll be in much of a position to go back to Low Town and speak with them.”

“I’m sure Rainbow Dash won’t mind being our go between in that, as well, will you, Rainbow?” Cadance asked.

Rainbow glanced at Weiss. “Civis Atlarum Sum,” she said. “You can rely on me.”

Weiss smiled. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Thank you,” she said to Cadance, as she got to her feet. “That is … very generous.”

“Offering opportunity to two young Atlesians is generous?” Cadance asked. “No, I’m afraid I disagree: it is … a right that all Atlesians should enjoy, even if they do not.”

“All Atlesians,” Weiss said softly. “And they are Atlesians?”

“What else would they be?” Cadance replied.

Weiss looked down at the still seated Councillor. “Thank you, once again,” she said.

“Don’t thank me until it happens,” Cadance told her. “And now…”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “Now it’s time for me to go home.”

Time to go home … and face my father.

Confined (New)

Confined

“So,” Blake asked. “What are you going to tell your father?”

“Not the truth, obviously,” Weiss replied. She managed a smile. “Perhaps I’ll tell him we had a wild night out.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Good luck with that. Although, you know, if you ever want to hang out for real … I can’t promise it’ll be wild, but it might be fun.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said. “I’ll remember that.”

“Do,” Blake urged. “We — I, at least — would like it if you did.”

Weiss kept the words in mind as she pushed open the front door — there were other entrances that would have been more discreet, but which might also have run the risk of getting Klein into trouble through involvement in her actions, and she didn’t want to bring him into this any more than he already was. Having seen what had become of Laberna Seacole since her dismissal, she had no desire to visit the same fate upon Klein.

So she came in through the front, looking around, her blue eyes scanning the hallway and seeing no one about. She pushed the door open just enough to slip through it and stepped lightly inside. Her boots tapped upon the tiled floor, which was unfortunate but, at the same time, unavoidable, the floor being as hard as it was.

There was no sign of Father anywhere. Of course, there would be no avoiding him forever, but at the same time, Weiss was willing to postpone that conversation for as long as she possibly could — preferably until she was physically summoned into his presence.

She began to walk towards the stairs, trying to step as lightly as she could, trying to make as little sound as she could, creeping into her own house like a thief.

The other reason for wanting to avoid encountering Father was that if she could just get to her room, then she could put Myrtenaster away and — assuming that he hadn’t searched her bedroom, which was, unfortunately, by no means a certainty — then he need never know that she had taken it with her. However, if she was caught before then, if he saw her with her weapon upon her hip, then it would be very hard to explain why she had it.

After all, it wasn’t as though Atlas was so lawless that one needed to go armed about the streets.

It occurred to Weiss that there was a way that she could move about the house while making no sound at all, in spite of the boots and of her footwear. Halfway to the grand staircase, she stopped and concentrated for a moment, and conjured a line of glowing white glyphs, about half an inch off the floor, running in a straight line from where she stood to the staircase, and then ascending parallel with the stairs all the way to the first floor.

Smiling to herself, Weiss leapt onto the first glyph, and from there onto the second, and the one after that, jumping from glyph to glyph as though they were stepping stones she was using to cross a river. She found herself hopping from one to the next, arms out, as though she were playing a game and not trying to escape her father’s notice. She did all of this without a sound, her footfalls silent upon glyphs, passing over the floor with all its potential to betray her.

And as she hopped across the glyphs, her ponytail bouncing up and down, Weiss found her thoughts drawn back to her last conversation with Blake and Rainbow Dash, before she took her leave of them to return here.

Yes, it would be rather nice to hang out, wouldn’t it? To go out, to leave this house that was so empty, cold and silent, to laugh and talk to … to hang out. It would be rather nice, if only occasionally.

Provided that Father allowed her to leave the house between now and her going back to Beacon.

Weiss reached the top of the stairs. Now a further line of glyphs would carry her down the corridors to her—

“You know that those things aren’t allowed in the house,” Jacques’ voice was cold, and yet at the same time, it seemed to drip with anger like water dripping from melted ice. “Or did you forget that while you were away at Beacon?”

Weiss jumped down off the glyph, which disappeared instantly, and set her feet upon the landing at the top of the stairs. She had not seen her father, but as she landed, he emerged from some shadowy alcove where she had not noticed.

Weiss swallowed. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“For using your semblance?” Jacques’ asked. “Or for trying to sneak in unnoticed?”

His eyes of icy blue bored into her, chilling her, forcing her to look away from him. She did not respond. There was very little she could say in way of response. The most she could do was deny that she had been trying to sneak in, but that would sound feeble indeed, and he would not believe it. So Weiss waited, still and silent, for him to realise that there was no answer coming.

“Where have you been?” Jacques inquired in a deceptively polite tone. “And look at me when you answer.”

Weiss did look at him, looking into his icy blue eyes; she sometimes worried that she had inherited those eyes, not just the colour but the coldness of them. So cold, so devoid of affection. She hoped very much that that was not what other people saw when they looked into her eyes.

“If you ever want to hang out for real…”

No. No, it was not. It couldn’t be, or why was she treated with such kindness and affection by so many: Flash, Blake, Rainbow, even Cardin and Russell? It could not all be about the Schnee wealth and influence.

It was none of it about the Schnee wealth and influence. She had to remember that. She had to keep reminding herself of it.

“Well?” Jacques prompted. “Where have you been?”

“I … I met with Councillor Cadenza,” Weiss said. It had the advantage of being true.

Jacques’ eyebrows rose. “Really?” he murmured. “It must have been a very long meeting, to go on from yesterday until now.”

Weiss attempted to suppress a wince. “I’ve just come from the meeting.”

“Hmm,” Jacques murmured. “I wasn’t aware you knew Councillor Cadenza.”

“We were introduced by a mutual friend,” Weiss replied. “An Atlas student whom I met at Beacon.”

“What’s their name, this friend?”

“Rainbow Dash.”

Jacques’ lower lip — the upper lip was concealed behind his moustache — curled into a sneer. “The Sparkle family’s pet project?”

“She’s an Atlesian huntress,” Weiss replied. “She deserves a little more respect.”

“'Respect'?” Jacques’ repeated. “She’s a gutter rat crawled out of the sewer.” He turned away from Weiss, clasping his hands behind his back. “I thought you knew better than to associate with such riff-raff.”

“She has the friendship of generals and councillors,” Weiss pointed out. “No matter her origins, I think that she has progressed beyond being 'riff-raff.' And besides, I’ll make my own choices as to who I associate with.”

“Oh, will you now?” Jacques asked, turning to face her once again.

Weiss swallowed. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I will.”

Jacques was silent for a moment. “What did you and our esteemed Councillor Cadenza talk about?”

“Nothing … that would interest you, Father, I’m sure,” Weiss said softly.

“'Nothing'?” Jacques said. “You had the attention of a Councillor, and you talked of … nothing? I don’t know what would be worse, that you’re lying or that you’re telling the truth. You must have said something.”

“We didn’t sit in silence, no,” Weiss admitted.

“Then I will decide whether or not your topic of conversation interests me,” Jacques declared. “Again: what did you talk about?”

How you abandoned someone you should have taken care of, for Grandfather’s sake. “The … state of the kingdom,” Weiss said. “Why Mantle is so restive, why people don’t trust the authorities, that sort of thing.”

Jacques was silent for a moment. “Really?” he asked. “I wasn’t aware that you were concerned with Mantle, or with the state of the kingdom, for that matter.”

“Atlas is my home,” Weiss pointed out. “Just because I want to become a huntress doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”

Jacques did not respond to that; rather, he asked, “And before that? Where have you been the rest of the time?”

“Out,” Weiss said. “With friends.”

“This Rainbow Dash again?”

“Among others.”

“And who are they?”

“Flash Sentry, my teammate from Beacon,” Weiss said. “And … Blake Belladonna.”

She saw her father’s eyes widen, although he said nothing. He was silent for a moment, and then a moment more, until, finally, he said, “I see. It must have been quite a night to keep you out all night and into the following morning. I’m surprised you were in a state to meet with Councillor Cadenza after that.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Jacques said. “I’d hate to see you end up like your mother, after all.”

The words struck her like a slap across the face; Weiss flinched from them. “Don’t worry,” she said. “There is no danger of that.”

“Excellent,” Jacques said. He sighed. “But all the same, I’m rather disappointed, sweetheart. Sneaking out, not answering my calls, I thought that you were better than this. I’m beginning to wonder if you ought to return to Beacon.”

“What?” Weiss squawked, alarm raising her pitch. “What do you mean? I have to go back—”

“That school has clearly been a terrible influence on you,” Jacques said. “You were such a good girl when you went away, and now, you’re leaving home without telling anyone where you’re going, you won’t answer the scroll — I had no idea where you were; I was frantic to find out what was going on; anything might have happened to you out there. You’ve clearly fallen in with a bad crowd.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“You would never have behaved this way before,” Jacques said.

Because I wasn’t actually hanging out with friends, and anyway, I never had any friends to go out with, Weiss thought. But the truth was hardly going to help her here — she’d already given her father some of the truth, and as far as she could tell, it hadn’t helped at all — and it would only make things worse, in fact.

And she was under no illusions that he was bluffing. He could stop her from attending Beacon, if he wished to do so; she was his, and while she was so, he could dispose of her however he wished. He hadn’t really wanted to let her go to Beacon in the first place, and if he thought that it had changed her for the worse … or even if he simply wished to punish her for her behaviour.

“I … I am sorry, Father,” she said, bowing her head. “I should have told you where I was going, and I should have answered your calls. But this … it has nothing to do with Beacon.”

“No?” Jacques asked sceptically.

“No,” Weiss insisted. “It is … it is being away from Beacon, the feeling of not having responsibilities as a team leader—”

“You have responsibilities of another kind,” Jacques informed her. “As a Schnee and a member of this family.”

What would you know about responsibilities as a member of this family? Weiss thought, but kept the thought to herself. “You’re right. I should have remembered. I’m sorry that I forgot it. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“No,” Jacques said. “It won’t.”

He smiled. “I’m not upset that you met with a Councillor, of course, even if I do wish that you had met with one who was a little more … selective in the company she keeps, but you should have told me that you were meeting with her beforehand; I could have helped you, discussed what you were going to say to her beforehand.”

You could have put your words in my mouth, you mean. “Of course, Father.”

“As for…” Jacques trailed off. “Why do you have your weapon with you?”

Weiss’ hand twitched towards the hilt of Myrtenaster. “Well … you never know what might happen, do you?”

Jacques tilted his head a little and adopted a tone that might have been taken for worried if she hadn’t known him so well. “Sweetheart, don’t you see? This is just what I was afraid of. That’s why I was so upset when I didn’t hear from you, when I couldn’t reach you. And you must think of your mother. I don’t know what she would have done if I’d had to tell her that something had happened to you. Please, be more considerate in the future.”

Weiss swallowed. “I will,” she said. “In future, I will let you know where I plan to go … and with whom.”

“Good,” Jacques said. “That’s all I want. To know where you are, and to let you know if your destination and companions are … suitable.” He turned away, and this time, he began to walk away. “Run along now. I expect you must be tired after your long night.”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured, and in that, at least, she had no need to lie.

Having been up all night, she was starting to feel tired, the adrenaline of their battles wearing off, replaced by a sense of weariness. It began to weigh upon her legs as she walked down the enormous corridor towards her room, making her steps leaden and heavy, making her teeter a little in her high-heeled boots. She yawned as she walked, and had to take deeper breaths to make up for yawning.

She made her way through this house as silent as a mausoleum, and made her way back to her own bedroom.

Weiss maintained enough discipline to put Myrtenaster away before she did anything else, but did not possess quite enough discipline to take off her boots before she flopped face-first onto the bed.

She did not quite hit the pillow, but if only she could crawl the rest of the way there…

She’d forgotten to draw the curtains. The sunlight hit her face and eyes.

Weiss screwed said eyes tight shut. She was not moving off this bed.

There was a knock at the door.

Weiss let out a wordless grumble as she raised her head. “Who is it?”

“It’s Klein, Miss Weiss.”

Weiss tried to stifle a yawn with one hand, but that was hard to do when you were mostly lying face down and had only just about raised your head off the duvet. “Come in, Klein,” she managed to say.

The bedroom door opened, and Klein walked in, carrying a tray upon which sat a couple of mugs out of which steam rose lazily. “Good morning, Miss Weiss,” he said genially, his tone admitting as little as his words when it came to the fact that Weiss had only just returned from an outing. The way he talked, she might have been sleeping in. “Would you care for some hot coffee?”

Weiss groaned. “No, thank you, Klein.”

“Really? I think you could do with it,” Whitley observed as he followed Klein in, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“What I could do with,” Weiss replied, “is some sleep.”

“You won’t need sleep if you have coffee,” Whitley pointed out, walking towards her bed with his back straight and his hands clasped behind his back — he looked like Jacques, or perhaps it was fairer to say that he looked like he was trying to look like Jacques. He frowned. “Those boots don’t go with that dress,” he observed.

Weiss pushed herself up off the bed, if only so that she could better glower at him. “Since when do you know anything about fashion? Women’s fashion, at that?”

“I contain multitudes,” Whitley replied. “So, how did it go?”

Weiss closed her eyes for a moment and made a conscious effort to banish the effects of weariness, to push them down until she was alone again. It might be Klein and her brother, but she was a Schnee, after all; there had to be standards. She straightened her own back, almost in imitation of her little brother.

She opened her eyes again and said, “We took care of it. Mrs. Seacole has been reunited with her granddaughter, all of the other kidnapping victims have been rescued and returned to their homes, and the … force responsible for the kidnappings has been stopped.”

Whitley idly picked up one of the cups of coffee from the tray in Klein’s hand. “Thank you, Klein,” he murmured, as he crossed the floor and sat down in the armchair next to the cold and unlit fireplace. “'Kidnapping victims'? There was more than one?”

“Several more,” Weiss murmured. “You can have that if you want, Klein; I meant what I said.”

“Thank you, Miss Weiss,” Klein murmured. He took a sip of the coffee before he said, “I hope that you weren’t in too much danger.”

“It comes with being a huntress,” Weiss said. “And besides, I had some friends backing me up.”

“You have friends?” Whitley asked, prompting Weiss to narrow her eyes at him.

“More than just Mister Sentry, Miss?” asked Klein.

Weiss nodded. “It turned out that I wasn’t the only person looking into things in Low Town. Flash and I ran into a couple of friends from Beacon there, and we joined forces.”

Whitley drank some of his coffee. “What was going on down there?”

“I … I’m not sure I can explain it,” Weiss admitted. “I’m not sure that I want to describe it to you. I’m not even sure that I want to think about it. But it’s over now. We saved everyone that we could, including Primrose Seacole.”

“How was Laberna?” Klein asked softly.

Weiss bowed her head a little and let a sigh pass between her lips. “Not good, I’m afraid,” she said. “Old. Tired. Forced to live in … it was almost offensive how glad she was to see me. Our family exiled her from Atlas to live in Low Town, and yet, she bore me no malice.”

“You did save her granddaughter,” Whitley pointed out.

“Even before that…” Weiss trailed off. “It’s not like I wanted her to be angry; it’s just … I didn’t … I can’t believe that she was left to live like that.”

“I suppose I thought she had a home somewhere in Atlas,” Whitley said, “the product of a nest egg from her years of service.”

“Her nest egg turned out to be more like a couple of damp twigs,” Weiss said, a touch of acid on her tongue.

Whitley’s brow furrowed. “Grandfather—”

“Didn’t get rich by spending his money, apparently,” Weiss’s voice was almost a growl. “However, I spoke to Councillor Cadenza, and she has agreed to look into moving the family to Canterlot.”

“Why Canterlot?” Whitley asked. “And when did you get the chance to speak with Councillor Cadenza?”

“My friend Rainbow Dash arranged it,” Weiss said. “And Canterlot because there is a combat school there, and the Councillor might be able to secure them places and bursaries. It isn’t Atlas, but I daresay it’s better than Low Town.” Not that that would be hard.

Whitley was silent for a moment, looking down into his coffee. “Do you think … do you think she’d appreciate a visit?”

“I’m sure that she’d be delighted,” Weiss admitted, “but I’m not sure that Low Town is the kind of place you should be going.”

“You went,” Whitley pointed out.

“I’m a huntress-in-training; I can take care of myself,” Weiss said. “You … can’t.”

Whitley said nothing, but a scowl settled on his features.

“With respect, Master Whitley, I’m not sure your father would approve of such an excursion,” Klein said. “But I might pay Laberna a visit. I … I should have kept in touch after she was dismissed; we used to work so closely together. I should have made time. I hope she can forgive me as easily as she has forgiven the family. Perhaps I could set up a call for you while I’m there.”

“Yes,” Whitley murmured. “Yes, thank you, Klein; that would be … an adequate substitute. I suppose you’re right; I wouldn’t want to upset Father, would I?” He looked at Weiss. “Does he know you’re back?”

“He met me on the stairs.”

“What did he say?” asked Whitley.

Weiss was silent for a moment. “I think I’m basically grounded,” she said.

Whitley got to his feet. “Until you go back to Beacon, you mean.”

“Yes,” Weiss acknowledged. “Until I go back to Beacon.”

Whitley walked towards the door, pausing only to put the cup back on Klein’s tray. “Well,” he said, “that won’t be for too long will it? Take comfort that you’ll only have to suffer this place for a little while.”

“Whitley,” Weiss said. “Is something wrong?”

“'Wrong'? No, why would anything be wrong?” Whitley asked. “The Seacoles are back together, and you, it seems, are the hero of the day. Congratulations.”

“Whitley—”

“Get some rest, sister,” Whitley said, as he reached the door. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You look like you could use it.”

An Invitation to Somewhere (Rewritten)

An Invitation to Somewhere

“I can’t believe that you went on a dangerous mission to save the day, and you didn’t tell me about it!” Penny said, pouting somewhat.

After leaving Cadance and saying farewell to Weiss, Blake and Rainbow Dash had repaired to Atlas Academy — along with Twilight — and Penny. Penny sat on one of the bottom bunks, her legs crossed and her hands resting upon the mattress in front of her, while Rainbow sat the wrong way on a chair opposite her, leaning upon the back of said chair with her elbows. Twilight sat on one of the top bunks, her legs dangling down, kicking slightly back and forth, while Blake leaned against the wall of the room.

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. “Now, I’m not saying this to be mean, so don’t get upset,” she said, thereby — to Blake’s mind, at least — giving away that whatever came out of her mouth next had at least the potential to be somewhat insensitive, “but why would I tell you about it?”

Penny made a noise of wordless anger. “Because I’m your teammate!” she cried. “For now, anyway—”

“'For now'?” Blake repeated.

“Never mind that at the moment,” Rainbow said quickly.

“And you told Blake!” Penny declared. “You told Blake about this, but you didn’t tell me! I would have gone and backed you up if you’d asked!”

“I’m sure you would,” Rainbow acknowledged.

“Then why didn’t you ask me?” Penny demanded. “Blake’s supposed to be here on a break, but I’m combat ready!”

“It’s not that big a deal, Penny—”

“Yes, it is,” Penny insisted. “It is for me! Did you … did you not take me because you didn’t think I was up to it? Because Blake is more capable than me?”

“I’m not—” Blake began.

“Yes,” Penny said. “Yes, you are. You’re so fast, and the way that you move is so graceful; you’re almost as fast and as graceful as Pyrrha is, and with your semblance, I think you’d stand a better chance against her than anyone else she’s ever gone up against. I’m… watching you is like watching the wind fight. It makes me feel like a rock.”

“'No matter how the wind howls, the mountain cannot bow to it,'” Twilight murmured.

Penny looked up, even though she couldn’t see Twilight because of the bed set-up. “What does that mean?”

“It’s an old Mistralian proverb,” Twilight explained. “It means that there are advantages to being rock steady, able to endure the fury around you.”

“You mean … like Jaune, with all his aura?” Penny asked. “But that’s not me either.”

“But you are the big gun on Team Rosepetal,” Blake pointed out. “Right, Rainbow Dash?”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow agreed. “Blake may have moves, but she can’t bust out a massive laser. Your combat capabilities are immense, and the fact that you had one bad match-up under Mountain Glenn doesn’t change that. Nor does the fact that Blake and I work very well together.”

“So you would rather have Blake backing you up than me,” Penny declared sulkily.

“Penny, I spent pretty much the whole of last semester focussing on Blake instead of you,” Rainbow said. “I spent more time being Blake’s friend than being your team leader. That’s on me, not you; it’s not a reflection on you in any way; it just means that I’m at a point where I’m more comfortable working with Blake. It doesn’t mean that Blake is better than you; it doesn’t mean that you’re objectively bad. Like I told you, you’re incredibly powerful. But at the time, I didn’t know that I was going into battle; I thought that we would be looking into disappearances, and so, even though I wanted someone watching my back, I thought that Blake would be better at moving through a faunus community asking questions. Plus, your father wouldn’t have approved of me bringing you to Low Town; plus, this wasn’t an official Atlas mission; plus, you deserve to rest every bit as much as Blake does; plus, this might have been a White Fang trap even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t; all of which being said,” Rainbow took a deep breath, “I am kind of sorry you weren’t there; we could have used your help fighting those robots.”

“Hmph,” Penny said. She paused for a moment. “Still, I suppose the most important thing is that it all worked out okay in the end. You saved everyone and stopped the bad guys.”

“Everyone that we could save,” Blake murmured.

“Take the win, Blake,” Rainbow said. “Like I told you, they don’t come around too often.”

“All the same,” Penny added. “I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Well, if I’d known that Weiss Schnee was going to take herself down to Low Town, I might have considered it,” Rainbow admitted. “Keeping you out of Low Town doesn’t seem so urgent when the heiress to the SDC was walking around there without a care in the world. Although I didn’t think it would bother you this much.”

Now it was Penny’s turn to hesitate. “I’ve been … a little bit bored,” she said. “I would have liked to have had a chance to get out and do something.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Is that so?”

Penny nodded. “I kind of miss having Ciel around to tell me what to do.”

“It would be nicer to say that you miss having Ciel around to … to fill up your time,” Twilight suggested. “Or to give you someone to talk to.”

“She did that too,” Penny replied. “But she also told me what to do. And I miss that. I’m bored.”

“That’s life, Penny; get used to it,” Rainbow said flatly.

“Rainbow,” Twilight said, in a tone of mild reproach.

“What?” Rainbow asked. “It’s true. Penny, when you go to Beacon—”

“Wait, Penny’s going to Beacon?” Blake asked.

Penny nodded excitedly. “Rainbow and Ciel are going to help me transfer.”

Blake blinked rapidly. “Ciel … and Rainbow are going to help you leave Atlas?”

“I love how you’re more shocked by me being involved in this but not Ciel,” Rainbow muttered.

“Ciel hasn’t spent an enormous amount of her time since I met her trying to get me to come here to Atlas,” Blake pointed out.

“Because I think that Atlas would be good for you, and you’d be good for Atlas,” Rainbow said. “And you agree with me on both of those, or you wouldn’t still be here. Penny, on the other hand … doesn’t want to be here.”

“No?” Blake asked. “I … I can’t say that I’ve noticed that you were unhappy. Perhaps I just wasn’t paying enough attention.”

Penny smiled. “It’s alright,” she said. “You had your own problems to deal with. I want … I want to go to Beacon so that I can be Penny, and not a weapon or a science project or a tool. I want to be myself. I want to find out who that is.”

Blake felt a smile prick at the corners of her mouth. “That … that sounds wonderful,” she admitted. “And of course you’ll be allowed to leave, because Atlas would never keep someone in their service against their will, would they?”

“No,” Rainbow said firmly. “Atlas wouldn’t. At least … the Atlas I know wouldn’t, the Atlas that we’re working for, the Atlas that Cadance believes in. I’ve already talked to Cadance about it, and she’s on our side, and I’m sure that the General will be on our side as well. On Penny’s side, I mean.”

“Since you’re helping me, it can be your side as well,” Penny said.

“Thanks, Penny, but I’m not running any risks,” Rainbow said.

Twilight looked a little sceptical at that, but said nothing.

“This is all going to work out splendidly,” Penny declared. “Blake’s coming here to Atlas, and I’m going to Beacon. It’s like a trade.” She paused for a moment. “It even excuses the fact that you ditched me and took Blake with you to Low Town: you were practising for life without me when you have Blake instead.”

Rainbow grinned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; we don’t know what’s going to become of us next year. Don’t get me wrong; I’d love to have you on my team, Blake. You, me, Applejack … we need a fourth person. Ciel will be free too, I suppose, but she might have had enough of me. Hmm. Anyway, the point is that we don’t know what’s going to happen next year.”

“Not least because I haven’t actually submitted my transfer papers yet,” Blake pointed out.

“But you’re going to, right?” Rainbow asked.

“Yes,” Blake said, the word tripping lightly out of her mouth; tripping so lightly, in fact, that it made her stop dead.

“Blake?” Twilight asked. “Is everything okay?”

“I…” Blake let out a little laugh. “I was just taken by surprise by how … anticlimactic that was. I thought … I guess I thought that making a decision like this, a decision with enormous implications and ramifications for my future … I suppose I thought that it would feel like a big deal, you know? A dramatic moment. Instead … yes. One word. An answer to a question. An answer to a question, admitting what’s been true for a while now; I suppose that’s why it feels so … easy.”

And it was easy. It had been easy; that was what had been so surprising about it. Blake had expected it to be dramatic because she’d thought it would be hard, but the truth was … the truth was that this was always where she had been going, since she got here in Atlas, since she had started working with the Rosepetals … this had been the road she was on.

There was a strand of thought, a particularly Mistralian thought, that framed destiny as choice. Destiny was not an inescapable fate but a final goal to which you worked and dedicated yourself. Of course, there was a strand of thought across the whole of Remnant which viewed destiny as, well, as an inescapable fate which one could not escape.

Blake … Blake almost felt as though her journey to Atlas, towards this quiet moment, in a quiet room, this admission to a handful of people, had fallen between those stools. She had chosen to walk this road. She had chosen to set off here … well, for a given value of ‘chosen’ which admitted that her alternative had been to go to prison, but even so, it couldn’t be denied that, once she had made her bargain, she had thrown herself into it wholeheartedly. She had taken the road, but at the same time, she had been in denial of where that road led. She didn’t have to make a choice just yet, she hadn’t committed to anything, she had options, she wasn’t signed up, she could walk it back if she wanted to.

Until she looked up and found that fate had drawn her here, inexorably, towards this choice.

Her final goal: to serve the Shining Kingdom and, in its service, to rise high and to learn to wield its power for the good of Remnant and the betterment of the lot of all faunuskind.

Atlas was not perfect. Atlas was flawed, as flawed as any kingdom in Remnant. But Atlas was full of good people: upright, righteous, honourable, and all of them committed to bettering not only themselves but also their kingdom too. Atlas was not perfect, but as long as its people continued to strive to make it so, it would be perfect one day.

And Blake would play a part in that. She would be honoured to play a part in that. She would become a part of this great engine and drive it forwards to greater, kinder, and fairer heights.

“What’s there to be dramatic about?” Rainbow asked. “I knew this was coming.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was obvious.”

Blake smiled. “No doubts.”

Rainbow shook her head, the grin on her face verging upon smugness. “No doubts at all.”

“You know what would make it dramatic?” Twilight asked.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “No.”

“Oh, I like the way you think,” Rainbow said. “Provided you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“What are you thinking?” inquired Penny.

“A party,” Twilight said.

“What, really?” Blake asked.

“Yes!” Twilight cried. “Come on, you just confirmed that you’ve made your decision to come to Atlas; we can’t just let that pass without comment. We’ll get everyone together; I’ll call Pinkie—”

“We can’t just impose on Pinkie Pie,” Blake said.

“It’s never an imposition on Pinkie where a party is concerned,” Rainbow assured her.

“How can you have the energy for a party after everything that’s happened?” asked Blake. “We haven’t slept all night.”

“We can crash out after the party.”

“Stop saying … I’m not going to get away without something, am I?”

“I mean, do you really not want a party?” Twilight asked. “Isn’t this something worth celebrating?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “Yes, it is. But I’m afraid that doesn’t change the fact that, at the moment, all I want to celebrate is my head hitting the pillow in Fluttershy’s guest bedroom.”

Twilight smiled. “Okay then. We can hold the party later. That way it’ll be a surprise.”

Blake snorted. “I’ll look forward to it. Penny … this is very premature, and we’ll have plenty of other chances to say this, and to say goodbye, but … I wish you the very best of luck.”

“Thank you,” Penny said, “and you too. I know you’ll be very happy here.”

Blake nodded. “I know I will too.”

“Do you need me to walk you out?” Rainbow offered.

“No,” Blake assured her. “I’ll be fine.” She turned to go and was about to approach the door when her scroll went off.

Blake took a deep breath, and answered it.

The face of Sunset Shimmer appeared on her screen.

“Hey, Blake,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“I’m well, thank you, if a little bit tired right now,” Blake replied. “How are you doing? How’s the team? How’s Vale? How’s Beacon?”

“Beacon is emptier than it was in the semester; Vale is … jittery and on edge, but slowly calming down a little bit; the team is great, Pyrrha and Jaune get more in love every day; and I … I am actually feeling a lot better. So, why are you tired? Are you not sleeping well?”

“I’m sleeping fine,” Blake said. “We just had a very active night last night.”

“'We'?” Sunset said. “Rainbow is keeping you up?”

Blake rolled her eyes. “I make my own choices, Mom.”

“Sorry,” Sunset said, with a touch of amusement entering her voice. She paused for a moment. “So … how are you finding it?”

“Imperfect,” Blake said. “But with the capacity for greatness in it.”

Sunset smiled. “You’re liking it, then?”

“Yes,” Blake told her. “I’m liking it a great deal.”

“You’ve chosen, then?”

“Yes,” Blake repeated. “In the end … I was surprised by just how easy it was.”

“It’s a sign that you belong there,” Sunset admitted. “Even if they don’t deserve you.” Once more, she took pause. “Still … so long as you’re happy, right? That’s what matters.”

“What matters is where I can be of service,” Blake corrected.

“Come on, you’re not just going to Atlas because you can be of service there; you’re going because you enjoy it,” Sunset informed her. “And that matters. Even if you are committed to … to being of service, even if you do want to put duty above all else … you’ll be happy there too.”

“Yes,” Blake admitted. “Yes, I think I will.”

Sunset nodded. “Good. That’s … that’s good. That’s great news, even as it is also terrible news. They don’t deserve you, not at all, but you'll do very well there nonetheless. But if you ever want to come crawling back, I’m sure that you’ll find a spot waiting for you somewhere.”

Blake chuckled. “I’ll miss you too, Sunset,” she said.

“You’re not leaving yet,” Sunset pointed out. “You still have to fight as part of Team Iron in the Vytal Festival.”

“I know, I know,” Blake acknowledged. “I’ve … gotten into the habit of premature goodbyes.”

“I see,” Sunset said. “Actually, I don’t, but … premature as it is, I’ll miss you too.” She sighed. “Can I … where are you, is there anyone around?”

“I’m in the Rosepetal dorm room with Rainbow, Penny, and Twilight,” Blake said.

“Hello, Sunset!” Penny called out.

“Hi, Penny,” Sunset replied, raising her voice a little, for just a moment. “Actually, that works out really well. I can just tell you all at once.”

“Tell us what?”

Sunset took a deep breath. “Blake,” she said, “how would you like to visit my homeland?”

Penny gasped. She jumped off the bed and rushed to Blake’s side. “Is it time?” she asked. “Is it ready?”

“I just heard from Princess Twilight—”

“'Princess Twilight'?” Blake repeated.

“Right, I didn’t mention that bit to you, did I?” Sunset asked. “So, in Equestria, where I come from, everyone who lives there is a kind of … alternate version of a person who exists here in Remnant.”

Blake frowned. “I thought that the people who lived in your world … that you were … aren’t you all … ponies?”

“Multi-coloured ponies, yes,” Sunset confirmed. “But one of those colourful ponies is named Twilight Sparkle, and another is called Rainbow Dash. And there’s probably one called Blake Belladonna as well, although I can’t confirm that for certain. Still, I think there ought to be, going by the principle of the thing.”

Blake’s frown only deepened. “So … for every person in Remnant, there is a pony in Equestria?”

“So it would seem,” Sunset replied.

“Then why isn’t there a Sunset Shimmer here already?” Blake asked. “A Sunset native to this world, to Remnant.”

Sunset paused. “You know, that is a very good question, to which I do not have the answer.” She grinned. “My uniqueness is so very unique that it transcends universes.”

“I didn’t ask the question to feed your ego,” Blake murmured. “So, let me get this straight … you want me to go to your world? The magical world, filled with ponies?”

“Yes,” Sunset said.

“Okay,” Blake said. “Why?”

“Because Penny’s going, and she could use a chaperone?” Sunset suggested. “Or, more seriously, because I think that you’d enjoy it. Or at least I think that you’d get something out of it.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Penny said. “Don’t you think? A world with all kinds of magic and extraordinary things and … extraordinary creatures.”

“A world without hatred,” Sunset added. “Without prejudice or discrimination. It might even give you some ideas. Obviously, I can’t make you go, but the invitation is open, and I know that Penny will love it, and I really think … I just think you might like it too.”

“Are you coming?”

“No.”

“'No'?” Blake repeated. “You’re sending us to visit your own home, but you’re not coming yourself?”

“No,” Sunset repeated, seeming reluctant to offer any details on why that might be.

If Sunset doesn’t want to talk about it then it must be something … a big deal, at least, whatever it is, Blake thought, deciding that she wouldn’t pry further into the matter.

“So,” Sunset went on, “what do you say, are you going?”

It was all very sudden. As sudden — more — than the party that had almost been sprung upon her moments earlier. More, because of course this was so much more than a party.

Sudden and unexpected, but tempting at the same time.

She was, after all, being offered the chance to visit another world. Another world. If she accepted, she would get the chance to walk beneath alien skies, to feel alien ground beneath her feet, to speak with alien creatures.

Sunset’s people. She would get to see the world that had made Sunset, perhaps even meet her teacher whom she held in such high esteem.

How many people in all of Remnant got offered an opportunity like that? When would she ever get this chance again, if she refused it?

She was being offered the chance to go where no one — or very few, at least — had gone before.

And it was a better world. A world that had realised all the promise that Blake and her new friends sought to realise here in Atlas, in Remnant.

She did want to see that. She wanted to see for itself that it could be done.

She might not live to see true justice and equality in Remnant. She might spend her life working towards it, only to die, like General Colton, with her work unfulfilled, forced to trust the realisation of it to those who came after.

If it were so, it would be no bad thing to have in her mind an image of what she would be working towards, a dream to hold onto, a vision of what the future might be, however far off that future seemed.

“Yes, I’ll go,” Blake said. “I’ll visit your home, and gladly, although I’ve no idea how.”

“Great!” Sunset cried. “Don’t worry about that; I’ve got it all taken care of already.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Another chapter that got completely rewritten, serving now as a wrap-up to the Low Town storyline as well as checking back in with Penny and introducing the upcoming visit to Equestria.

The Dream Maker, Part One (New)

The Dream Maker, Part One

In the fertile lands to the east of Vale, in the small town of Arcadia Lake, in a good-sized house in the middle of the settlement, Doctor Caen Diggory shuffled across the room. The pain in his leg prevented him from moving any more swiftly.

The doctor was an old man now, his once dark hair, which he wore combed back, turned mostly to silvery grey, while his face was deeply lined around the cheeks and mouth. He wore a three-piece suit of limestone grey, with the chain of an old-fashioned pocket watch stretching across his waistcoat. Only a green tie provided any sort of splash of colour on his clothing; it had been a gift from an old student of his.

A student he would have liked to have had with him now, not that Bartholomew would have been of much help in this particular endeavour.

But Doctor Diggory was sometimes uncertain that he himself was of much help in this particular endeavour.

With a pair of blue-grey eyes, framed by a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, Doctor Diggory looked down upon young Miss Pole.

Plum Pole, her name was, a girl of twelve with long golden hair held back by a black silk band, lying on a bed with her eyes closed.

They hadn’t opened for several weeks now.

Young Miss Pole was hooked up to an IV drip; it was feeding her body the nutrients it needed to survive. Around the bed — all sitting on the left hand side, leaving the right clear — were various other bits of medical equipment, monitoring her heart rate, her brain waves, that sort of thing.

It was the brain wave monitor that interested Diggory the most, when he glanced away from Miss Pole to the medical equipment. She was undergoing quite substantial brain activity; surprisingly so. Yes, coma patients did dream, but these brain waves… they would be off the charts for someone who was wide awake, let alone someone who’d been unconscious for some time now.

What’s going on in that head of yours, Miss Pole?

Nobody knew what had happened to her; she’d been spending a fair amount of time with her friend Mister Scrub, in the home of Professor Scrub, the other academic living here in Arcadia Lake, but neither the professor nor young Mister Scrub could explain why Miss Pole had suddenly collapsed one day, entered a sleep from which she would not wake. They could only say that she had done so.

Arcadia Lake was a pleasant place to live, a pleasant place to retire, a pleasant place to carry out his research, but it was also remote, quiet, out of the way. The town doctor — the medical doctor — had died just a few days before Miss Pole’s … before this inexplicable condition had overtaken Miss Pole. The doctor had succumbed to a heart attack, poor fellow, and a replacement hadn’t arrived from Vale yet.

With the way things were looking, it was beginning to look as though one never would.

It was beginning to look as though there might not be an Arcadia Lake to arrive at before too long.

It was certainly a concern, but it was not Diggory’s immediate one. The threat of the grimm was … something for other people to worry about now; he had hung up his weapon a long time ago.

His concern at the moment was Miss Pole, lying on the bed; there was only a single light down here in his laboratory, and it cast the corners of the wood-panelled room in shadow, but the light shone down upon Miss Pole where she lay sleeping.

Waiting for a prince to kiss her awake, perhaps.

No, still a little young for that sort of thing.

He was not the ideal sort of person to take care of her, but with Doctor MacTavish having passed away and with Professor Scrub being rather disinterested, it had fallen to him as the only candidate for the job.

It was a pity, then, that he had very few ideas, and very few of them sound ones.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Diggory said, his eyes not leaving Miss Pole.

The door opened, and young Mister Scrub walked in. Malmsey Scrub was a lad of about Miss Pole’s age, with eyes as green as the grape and hints of green at the tips of his tousled black hair; his face was freckled, and the freckles seemed to stand out even more when he was nervous, as he was now, holding a neckerchief rolled up in his hands, wringing it as he stood in the doorway.

“How … how is she?” he asked.

Doctor Diggory looked at him and tried his best to smile reassuringly. “No change, I’m afraid.”

“But … that means that she hasn’t gotten any worse, doesn’t it?” said Mister Scrub.

That was certainly an optimistic way of looking at it, but Diggory had no desire to dampen the boy’s optimism. “Yes,” he said, “that’s correct. She certainly hasn’t gotten any worse.”

Mister Scrub approached slowly, moving almost as slowly as Diggory had, only with uncertainty as the cause instead of an old wound. Nevertheless, he eventually reached Miss Pole’s bedside — Diggory took a step backwards to make way for him and, with one hand, let go of his neckerchief as he reached out and took her hand, small and pale and laid out motionless upon the bed.

Mister Scrub looked up at him. “Do you think she can hear me?”

“I’m … I’m sure that she can.” Diggory assured him, though he was by no means certain of the fact.

Mister Scrub took a deep breath. “Ho-hold on, Plum,” he said. “I’ll … I’m going to find a way to save you, I promise. So wait for me.” He let go of her hand. “I’ve got to go; my uncle’s waiting for me.” Mister Scrub turned away from Miss Pole’s bed and made his way back towards the door.

Find a way to save her? And how does he mean to do that? Young Mister Scrub had bags under his eyes, dark lines as though he weren’t sleeping very well. What did he know? What did he know that could help Miss Pole? What wasn’t he saying?

“Mister Scrub,” Diggory called.

Mister Scrub had almost reached the door, but he stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“Is there anything that you can tell me?” Doctor Diggory demanded. “Anything at all, anything that might explain Miss Pole’s condition?”

Mister Scrub hesitated for a moment, before he said, “No, sir. Nothing.”

Diggory didn’t believe him, but nevertheless, he said, “I see. Very well. Off you go, Mister Scrub; you mustn’t keep your uncle waiting.”

Mister Scrub nodded, and this time, he did leave, although he also left the door open. Diggory could hear his footsteps climbing the stairs up out of the basement.

Diggory might have gone to shut the door himself, but through it not long after came Mrs. Macready, his housekeeper.

“I didn’t think you’d mind him visiting,” she said. “He said he wouldn’t be long.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Diggory replied. “It’s good for her to hear a familiar voice from time to time.”

Mrs. Macready smiled briefly. She was not quite as old as he was, but she was approaching it, with grey streaks in her curly brown hair, and wrinkles appearing on her face and hands. “Will you come up for supper, Doctor, or shall I bring it down for you?”

“I’m not hungry, thank you, Mrs. Macready.”

“You must eat something, Doctor,” Mrs. Macready insisted. “It’s been hours since lunch, and you ate little enough of that.” She put her hands on her hips. “If I have to drag you up out of this room to get something to eat, I will.”

“In that case, it would probably be best if you brought something down,” Doctor Diggory replied, allowing just a touch of amusement to enter his voice.

Mrs. Macready nodded. “Very well, then; I’ll bring it just as soon as it's ready.”

She closed the door behind her as she left.

As the door shut, Doctor Diggory sank into a dark brown leather chair sitting at Miss Pole’s bedside.

A heavy sigh fell from his mouth. “Is there anything that I can do for you, Miss Pole?” he asked.

She did not answer. Of course she didn’t. She lay there, eyes closed, unmoving, only a slight breathing and the information supplied by all those monitors to indicate that she was still alive.

Doctor Diggory feared that there was nothing he could do for her.

Except, perhaps…

His eyes were drawn to the … well, he hadn’t thought of a name for it yet, but it consisted of a reasonably-sized grey metal box, about two cubic feet in volume, from which sprang various wires, connected to the monitoring devices, little sensors surrounded by pressure pads intended to be placed around the head.

Doctor Caen Diggory had more than one doctorate, but one of his lesser known fields of study was parapsychology. It was lesser known in part because it tended to be dismissed as quack science, but Diggory had seen too much to dismiss so easily the idea that there was more in heaven and earth than men had dreamt of in their philosophy. Telekinesis, clairvoyance, precognition, extrasensory perception, all of these things were possible through semblances, so why should they be out of bounds for those whose semblances tended in a different direction? It was scientifically possible, so why should it be out of bounds for study, left to the vagaries of certain souls? It was all in the mind, he believed, its secrets waiting to be unlocked; if they could only discover the pattern, the right combination of electrical impulses, the right set of brainwaves … what could they not achieve?

What could he not achieve for Miss Pole, if he could only get inside her head and find out what was keeping her trapped there?

Doctor Diggory got up and shuffled across the room to pick up his device. It was heavy, and the weight slowed him down even more than his wound; he could feel his back protesting the strain as he lugged the thing back to his seat and placed it down upon the chair. He had to take a breath or two afterwards before he could begin to attach the sensors to Miss Pole’s head, placing them upon the sides of her temple and upon her forehead.

Then he was forced to pick the box up again, so that he might sit down with the device upon his lap. His legs were not particularly happy about the weight, and they let him know it with throbbing pains, even as he attached the sensors to his own head.

In theory, the device should join their brainwaves together, conducting the electrical outputs from each into the device itself where they would mingle and become as one.

In theory, at least.

On top of the box were various monitors, buttons, and switches; with one wrinkled hand, he pushed the green button to start the device.

Malmsey Scrub fished the key to his uncle’s house out of his pocket and opened the door. It squeaked a little upon its hinges as he stepped into the hall, and then thumped solidly as he closed the door behind him.

He dropped the latch with a click.

“Malmsey?” Uncle Verdell called to him. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Malmsey replied, walking through the hall and through the kitchen into his uncle’s study at the back of the house. The room was kept dark, and the light mainly came from the glowing rings which sat upon a table at the back of the room, giving off a pale and sickly-looking green and yellow light.

Verdell Scrub was a tall, slender man; his hair was white but voluminous, worn in a bouffant style piled atop his head. He wore a blue velvet jacket and trousers striped in royal and navy blue, with a grey waistcoat and a white dress shirt on underneath. His nose was sharp, and his chin pointed.

“And how is Miss Pole today?” Uncle Verdell asked in his sinuous voice.

“She’s no worse,” Malmsey said, a moment before he admitted, “but no better, either.”

“Then it seems as though it’s up to you to find a way to make things right, doesn’t it?” Uncle Verdell asked, as he stepped aside and gestured towards the rings.

The huntsman ran down the street.

The ursa major pursued him, growling and snarling, its paws making the ground shake as it followed him relentlessly.

The huntsman whimpered in fear.

He tripped and fell, landing flat on his face with a thump and a wince.

The ursa gained on him.

The huntsman rolled over onto his back. He scrambled backwards; it was all he could do. He couldn’t feel his legs any more; he could barely move his arms.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This was … this couldn’t be real; it couldn’t. This was … this was what he’d always…

No. Not like this.

He pulled out his pistol and fired once, twice, three times; the shots had no effect upon the advancing grimm. It bore down upon him as relentless as the tide.

“No,” the huntsman cried. “No! Stay away!”

Wake up, wake up, this isn’t happening!

The ursa thrust its head forwards, snarling directly into his face, letting him feel the creature’s breath upon his face, letting him see the saliva dripping from its jaws. It was as though it wanted him to know that this was very real.

He couldn’t even activate his aura.

“Please,” he mewled, “not like this.”

For a moment, the ursa did nothing; it just stood there, casting a shadow over him, a rough, guttural sound emanating from its throat as it stared at him with those burning red eyes.

Then its jaws closed around the huntsman’s head, slamming shut, cutting off his last, pitiful cry.

It devoured him, consuming him as his blood covered its teeth and stained its bony mask. And when there was nothing left of the huntsman but blood, the ursa major raised his head and looked around.

And then it vanished, as though it had never been at all.

Blood.

Ruin.

Failure.

There were too many. Too many grimm, too many frightened people. Too many, and not enough time.

Not enough time to save them all.

“Doctor? Doctor Diggory?”

Diggory gasped as he opened his eyes, the ruin of Mountain Glenn dissolving before his eyes and being replaced by the sight of Mrs. Macready bending over him, her brown eyes filled with concern.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” she asked.

“I…” Diggory trailed off, looking down at the heavy device sat on his lap. “It didn’t work, I see.”

“Assuming you weren’t trying to put yourself to sleep, Doctor.”

“No, no indeed, I was not,” Diggory replied. “I was … I was trying to reach Miss Pole.”

Mrs. Macready sighed. “More of your experiments?”

“That wasn’t the point; I … I thought they might help,” Diggory replied. “All I did was put myself to sleep, it seems.”

“Did you at least have pleasant dreams?”

“No,” Diggory murmured. “The old dream again. Mountain Glenn.”

“I thought you’d stopped having those nightmares.”

“It appears not.”

“I see,” Mrs Macready murmured. “Well … your supper’s over there; don’t let it get cold.”

She turned to go, crossing the room but pausing in the doorway. “You’ll find a way, Doctor, I’m sure you will.”

“I wish I shared your confidence, Mrs. Macready.”

Mrs. Macready smiled softly, then, once more, shut the door behind herself as she departed.

Doctor Diggory found his legs had gone rather stiff while he had been asleep with this heavy weight upon his chest. They would bitterly protest once the time came to lift the thing up and put it back.

“Well, Miss Pole,” he said softly as he plucked the sensors from off her head, “I can only hope that wherever you are, your dreams are more pleasant than mine.”

The firelight danced on Sunset’s face. As she stared into the flames, they were reflected in her green eyes.

She stared into the flames as though the mysteries of the world might be found within.

She stared into the flames as though they fascinated her. As though she found them beautiful.

She did find them beautiful. She always had. When she had been a little filly, she and Princess Celestia would snuggle up by the fire together, with hot cocoa and a good book, and sometimes, Sunset would sneak a glance away from the princess or the book to watch the fires dance in the fireplace.

That was why she loved her hair, in a way: because it was like fire. Or perhaps she loved the fire because it reminded her of her hair; she was vain enough for that to be the correct way around. Either way, she loved the flames; she loved the way the red and the gold danced, mingled and intertwined. The colours … brought her joy.

They brought her no joy now. Now, when she looked into the flames, all she could see was burning: the fire consuming all things, and leaving only cold ashes behind.

Trixie yawned. “Remind us, won’t you, of what we’re doing here.”

Sunset looked up from the flames, to fix her eyes upon The Great and Powerful Trixie, who sat with Starlight Glimmer across the fire from her.

“You two could remind me of what you’re doing here,” Sunset pointed out.

“Rainbow Dash asked us to keep an eye on you,” Starlight explained, and not for the first time. “She seemed to think you might do something … unwise.”

Sunset drew in a deep breath, and then let out an even deeper breath. Thank you, Rainbow Dash. “You know, when she asked you to do that … I don’t know exactly what she thought that I was going to do or what she expected you to do, but I don’t think that she had the two of you doing this in mind.”

“Maybe not,” Trixie conceded. “But we’re Atlesians, so we like to go above and beyond.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “It’s that kind of attitude that gives Atlas a bad name, you do realise that.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the SDC’s business practices that give Atlas a bad name,” Starlight declared. “Our attitude just gives Atlas an insufferable name.”

Sunset snorted. “There’s no need for you to be here,” she said. “This … is supposed to be a solo mission.”

Starlight’s brow furrowed. “Uh huh. You want to tell us what that’s about?”

“What makes you think there’s anything to tell?” Sunset replied disingenuously.

“The fact that it’s not normal,” Starlight said. “We’re put in four-man squads for a reason.”

“You’re here,” Sunset pointed out.

“But the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrixie did not come without her glamorous and very capable assistant, Starlight,” Trixie declared.

“Rainbow actually asked me to keep an eye on you,” Starlight pointed out. “I asked Trixie to keep an eye on me, because lone wolf stuff isn’t normal, and I don’t like it.”

“Then go back to Beacon,” Sunset snapped. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames as it consumed the wood that they had gathered. “Please,” she said, her tone softening and her voice quietening. “Please go back to Beacon.”

“Why?” Starlight demanded. “Why don’t you want us here?”

“Because…” Sunset closed her eyes, her voice trailing off. Because this mission is supposed to kill me, and I don’t want your deaths on my conscience. “The danger—”

“Is something we face every time we go out into the field,” Starlight pointed out. “And if it’s so dangerous, why are you out here by yourself?”

Sunset did not reply. She looked at Starlight, into those blue eyes, and said nothing.

“I think this is why Rainbow Dash wanted us to keep an eye on you,” Trixie said.

“So you’ll come out here, into the field, to what could be a much more dangerous mission than a student team should be on, with someone you don’t know … because Rainbow asked you to?” Sunset asked.

Starlight and Trixie glanced at one another. “Pretty much, yeah,” Starlight admitted.

Sunset couldn't resist the slightly strangled laugh of incredulity that emerged from out of her mouth. “Because you like Rainbow Dash that much?”

“Rainbow Dash is … tolerable, Trixie supposes,” Trixie said.

“I like her,” Starlight said. “But that’s not the point. The point is … she’s an Atlesian classmate, so of course we’re going to help her out. That’s just how we play it.”

“Don’t make this an Atlesian exceptionalism thing,” Sunset said. “Plenty of teams from other schools would help out other teams; it doesn’t make you special.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” Starlight said.

“Now are you going to tell us what we’re doing here or not?” Trixie demanded. “The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie would like some intel.”

Sunset was silent for a moment, and then for a moment longer. She remained silent as she looked away from Starlight, and from Trixie, looking back down into the flickering, dancing, and consuming flames.

Sunset walked into the study of the First Councillor. Unlike the last time she had been here, there was no sign of young Bramble, Councillor Emerald’s son.

That wasn’t too surprising, considering the low opinion which Councillor Emerald held of her. All things considered, it was rather amazing that he had allowed her anywhere near his son in the first place.

Councillor Emerald himself was there, of course; he was sat behind a desk, signing some piece of paper which he pushed to one side as she came in.

He looked up at her, and then got to his feet so that he might look down upon her rather than looking up. His majestic antlers nearly touched the ceiling. “Miss Shimmer,” he said, his lip curling in disapproval.

Sunset straightened up, clasping her hands behind her back. “Councillor,” she murmured.

Councillor Emerald stared at her for a moment; he was wearing a dress suit, a black tailcoat with a white waistcoat, a white bow tie around his neck, a winged collar. One small corner of handkerchief was visible sticking out of his breast pocket, and he wore a blood red carnation in his buttonhole.

“Will you attend the wake tonight, Miss Shimmer?” he asked her.

Sunset wondered if he had called her here to tell her that it would be disrespectful to go anywhere near it. “I planned to, Councillor, along with my teammates.”

“No,” Councillor Emerald said. “You will not.”

Sunset swallowed. “No, Councillor?”

“No,” Councillor Emerald repeated. “I have your first mission, Miss Shimmer. Your first, and with good fortune, your last mission.”

Sunset’s chest rose and fell. “I… I see,” she said softly. So it has come to it at last. In some respects, I suppose I’m lucky that it was put off for so long.

Not that I can say I made the most of the opportunity.

“What is it that you have for me, Councillor?” Sunset asked. “Would you like me to leap into a nest of king taijitus?”

“I don’t consider this a laughing matter,” Councillor Emerald said sharply.

“Nor do I, Councillor,” Sunset replied. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Councillor Emerald picked up the scroll that sat on his desk and pushed a couple of buttons. Sunset felt her own scroll vibrate in her pocket, nudging her hip with a persistent repetition.

“All the details have been sent to you,” Councillor Emerald informed her. “But the short version is that you are to go to the village of Arcadia Lake, if it still exists.”

Sunset frowned. “'Still exists'?”

“Considering the circumstances, you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you to save lives,” Councillor Emerald growled, “but all contact has been lost with Arcadia Lake, with the huntsman who was contracted to guard it, with the team of Haven students who were dispatched there a few weeks ago to shadow a huntsman hired by the town. There has been no contact, and no one who has tried to reach the place can get through. You will try and get through.”

Because it doesn’t matter if you lose me in the attempt. “Even though you think there’s nothing there?”

“If there is nothing there, if the village has been destroyed, then you will confirm that,” Councillor Emerald said. “And then you will avenge its destruction by destroying all grimm in the area before you return. It may be that the village can be rebuilt, once the region has been secured.”

Sunset nodded. “And if the village is not destroyed?” she asked. “If contact has been lost for some other reason?”

“Then assist in the defence until the situation stabilises or communications are restored and aid arrives,” Councillor Emerald said. “Do you think that you can manage that without running away?”

“I’ve no problem with giving my own life, Councillor,” Sunset said, her voice sharpening ever so slightly.

“I’m delighted to hear it,” Councillor Emerald muttered. “Airships attempting to fly to Arcadia Lake were forced to turn back by large numbers of flying grimm, so you’ll have to walk from Willow Creek, the nearest town. A Bullhead is standing by. I suggest you leave at once.”

Sunset swallowed. “Yes, Councillor.”

It was … convenient, she had to say. Everyone would be getting ready for or on their way to the wake. She could slip away, without anyone noticing.

Without having to explain where she was going.

Without having to say goodbye.

And yet, at the same time, she regretted not having the chance to say goodbye.

It might not be goodbye, of course. She might win through. She might survive. She might survive to come back and wait for the next assignment to be bestowed upon her from the First Councillor.

Or she might not. She might die at Arcadia Lake, overwhelmed by the grimm that had destroyed the village.

In which case…

They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return.

She would never see them again. Nor dared she send a message that might alert them — Pyrrha in particular had one eye on Sunset; if she sensed that something was wrong, she would try and find her — to Sunset’s departure.

No, she would have to slip away, like a thief — or a murderer.

It was no more or less than she deserved.

And yet, as she walked out of the First Councillor’s residence and stood on the street outside, feeling the evening air kiss her face as the sun began to set, Sunset felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

Pyrrha, take care of them.

Sunset got out her scroll, hesitated for a moment, and then put it away again.

She might as well wait to summon her locker until she got to the airship.

“Sunset?” Trixie prompted.

“What?” Sunset asked, looking up from the flames.

“You were about to brief us on what we’re doing here,” Trixie reminded her. “Hopefully.”

“Yes,” Sunset said softly. “Yes, I was.” She blinked rapidly. “From Willow Creek where we landed, we are making our way that way,” — she pointed eastward down the dirt road along which they had been walking, until they had decided to stop for the night and make camp — “towards the village of Arcadia Lake.”

“Why couldn’t we just land at Arcadia Lake?” Trixie asked.

“Grimm have made it too dangerous for airships,” Sunset said.

Starlight frowned. “If things are that bad then what are things like for the village?”

“Arcadia Lake is not without protection,” Sunset replied. She had studied the details that Councillor Emerald had supplied to her, including maps of the area, on the way to the skydock to meet her airship; it had not been until she arrived there that Trixie and Starlight had ambushed her with their company. “The village doesn’t sit beside the lake; it sits out in the middle of the lake, upon an island, which helps to keep the grimm at bay. Once we reach Arcadia Lake, we’ll have to get a boat out there. If we can.”

One of Starlight’s eyebrows rose. “'If we can'?” she asked. “But you just said-”

“Contact with Arcadia Lake has been lost,” Sunset admitted. “Despite the natural barriers we may get there to find … that there is nothing left.”

Starlight folded her arms. “In which case … what?”

“Then my orders are to clear the area of any grimm,” Sunset said flatly.

“To what end?” Starlight asked.

“To the end of restoring the lake to Vale’s control, in case they decide to rebuild the village,” Sunset said.

“Not exactly a job for one kid,” Starlight said.

“Are you still sure you want to come?” Sunset asked. “There’s still time to head back to Willow Creek, now or in the morning.”

Starlight and Trixie looked at one another.

“What are your orders if this village isn’t gone?” asked Trixie. “Badger’s Drift was out of contact, but the people there weren’t dead.”

“Then my orders are to help defend the village and the people who live there,” Sunset replied.

“Then the Grrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is not the sort of huntress to walk away from a mission like that,” Trixie declared. “How about you, Starlight?”

Starlight shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Me neither.”

“You don’t understand!” Sunset snapped.

“Then explain it better!” Trixie snapped back at her.

Sunset closed her eyes. She screwed them tight shut. “This mission,” she murmured. “If you go with me on this mission, there is a very good chance that one or … or both of you will die.”

“And what makes you say that?” asked Starlight.

“Because… because there’s a reason I’m on this mission all by myself, without my teammates,” Sunset said.

Neither Starlight nor Trixie gave an immediate reply, but no sooner had the words passed Sunset’s lips than her scroll went off.

“Are you going to get that?” asked Trixie.

“No,” Sunset said.

“It might be important,” Trixie pointed out.

“I think I know who it is,” Sunset replied.

“Your teammates?” Starlight suggested.

Sunset nodded silently.

Starlight folded her arms. “So … you took a mission that you knew was dangerous, on your own, without telling your teammates where you were going or what you were doing, and now you’re just going to ghost them as they try to find out where you are?”

Sunset blinked. “Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a jackass.”

“Because you are one,” Trixie said bluntly.

“I can’t reply,” Sunset insisted.

“Why not?” Starlight demanded.

“Because you two came out here with me just because Rainbow asked you to; imagine what my teammates would do!” Sunset cried.

Starlight said, “And that would be bad because—”

“Because I screwed up, and people died, and this is my atonement,” Sunset said. “That’s why I’m here on my own, that’s why I took this mission, that’s what this is all about: penance. This is me making it right. This is me … paying my debt.”

“You’re talking about your mission to Mountain Glenn, aren’t you?” said Starlight. “You’re talking about the Breach?”

Sunset nodded. “I … I could have stopped it,” she said. “But I didn’t.”

There was another moment of silence, another lull in the conversation.

“So?” demanded Trixie.

“So … what?”

“Exactly,” Trixie said. “So what?”

Sunset frowned. “Did you miss the part where people died?”

“Because you made a mistake; sure, that’s tragic,” Trixie said. “But…” She hesitated. “I don’t usually admit this in public, but … even the Great and Powerful Trixie makes mistakes. Sometimes … sometimes I make major mistakes.”

“Like what?”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie is not going to delve into examples,” Trixie declared magisterially. “Suffice it to say that they were … occasionally … quite serious. And do you know what Trixie did afterwards.”

“What?”

“Not this!” Trixie cried. “What you’re talking about isn’t making it right, it’s—”

“Punishing yourself,” Starlight finished for her. “It’s … the opposite. Trixie’s right. We all make mistakes. I’ve made mistakes, Trixie has made mistakes—”

“Just because I said it doesn’t mean everyone should!” squawked Trixie.

“We’ll make other mistakes, and those mistakes might cost lives because lives hang in the balance in the line of work we’re in, but this … you make it right by doing better next time. By saving lives, by not repeating the same mistakes. Which we might still have the chance to do, let’s not forget that, but if not … this isn’t how you make things right.”

“Unless it is, apparently,” Sunset muttered.

Starlight snorted. “I guess so. Unless it is.”

Trixie yawned. “We should get some sleep. If we’re going to reach this place tomorrow, then we’d better be rested for it. Don’t want to be tired during the performance.”

Starlight smiled. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“No, I’ll take first; you can take second,” Sunset said.

“Are you sure?” Starlight asked.

Sunset nodded. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “So long as you do wake me.”

“I will,” Sunset assured her. “I promise.”

“Hmm,” Starlight murmured. “Okay then. I’ll take second watch.”

“And that leaves the third watch for me,” Trixie said. “Goodnight, everyone.” She lay down there and then, lying on her side with her purple cape, covered in gold and silver stars, draped over her like a blanket.

Within mere moments, she had started to snore.

Starlight smiled fondly at her, before she, too, lay down, curling up on a white groundsheet with an Atlesian symbol in the corner — because of course it did — her body all rolled up like a cat.

Sunset’s hand glowed with telekinesis as she pulled Sol Invictus into her grasp. She checked — not for the first time — that it was loaded, and then rested it against her shoulder as she turned her back upon her travelling companions and peered out into the darkness of the night.

She could hear and see nothing, not even when she cast a nightvision spell upon her eyes to penetrate the darkness; she kept her eyes peeled nonetheless. With the way that she felt, she would not be too surprised if she ended up attracting grimm.

She had not asked for Trixie and Starlight to come with her. She had not wanted Trixie and Starlight to come with her, but now that they were here…

A part of her was shamefully glad of their presence, shamefully glad that she was not alone.

Another part of her feared that they would perish, on this mission meant to cause her death. A part of her feared that they would die, and that to all the grief Sunset had already caused would be added the sorrow of their teammates and their friends.

She did not want that. It was the last thing that she wanted, and yet … and yet, that other part of her could not deny that she was glad of the company.

She might have thanked them for it, were she not afraid that they would fall in this battle.

What was difficult for me alone may be easier for the three of us. Yes, the logic there was sound; it could not be denied. But at the same time, what if it was not so? What if what was impossible for one was equally impossible for three?

I daresay Councillor Emerald would rather have the village alive than me dead.

But then, he doesn’t really think the village is yet alive, does he? That’s why he only sent me; he has given Arcadia Lake up for lost and has sent me to add to the casualties.

If we reach the lake and it is so, then I will send them back; they have no need to stay for the clean-up.

But if we reach the lake and the village yet stands … I will be glad of the assistance.

And so, more importantly, will the village itself, I expect.

Their words lingered in Sunset’s mind as she stood guard. Professor Ozpin had said, or at least implied, much the same thing: that it would be better for her to live on than to die upon the First Councillor’s command. He had not said that by living on she could make good her mistake, but that had been the implication all the same.

In some ways, it would be easier to let herself get eaten by a grimm.

Easier for her, perhaps, but at the same time … cruel. Cruel to Pyrrha, cruel to Jaune … Ruby, on the other hand, might appreciate not having Sunset around to give her grief all the time.

No, that thought itself felt cruel, even confined to her head.

It would be cruel to all of them … crueller than sneaking off in the middle of the night. She would have to make amends for that, if any of them were in the mood to listen to her excuses when she got back.

Or they might just hate me, which would simplify matters.

Why do my thoughts unto such darkness tend? Why do they always seek the shadow and shun the light? How far am I sunk, and yet my mind seeks always to dive deeper still, to weigh down my feet, to drag me to the furthest depths?

Am I so lost? Am I so robbed of joy?

They are too kind to be so cruel, my friends, though I have been so cruel to them, and may be crueller still, though I hope not.

I must live. I must live and fight and, though I do not deserve them, return unto the bosom of my team … until the next time Councillor Emerald sends me forth.

And with the help of these two companions of mine, I may find it easier to win and return than I would have alone.

If that is so, then I will owe the both of them a great debt.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Trixie murmured. “I just … the ursa … I’m sorry.”

Starlight gave a wordless moan, rolling over onto her other side, then back onto the side she’d been before. Her face was set into a scowl, then turned into a look of fear, as best Sunset could tell with Starlight’s eyes closed.

Both having nightmares? Both troubled in their sleep? What have they to trouble them in the dark? What have they to fright them while they slumber?

I know not, for I know them not. Trixie Lulamoon, I paid little attention to at Canterlot, rating her of little account; Starlight Glimmer is unknown to me.

And yet here they are, come to my aid. Come to my aid upon request of Rainbow Dash, that’s true, but all the same … come to my aid.

Come to my aid, and I will not forget it. For however little time I have left.

Would that I could repay my debt by guarding them from these nightmares that assail them.

Yet I cannot. I cannot even guard my own mind from nightmares which doubtless will assail me when it is my turn to sleep.

Sunset would have liked to have stood watch for the whole night, if she could; she was not particularly fond of being awake in darkness, it brought out the worst in her mind, it bred fears in her, it bred anxiety and despair that threatened to overwhelm her; but sleep brought back to the tunnels under Mountain Glenn.

Sleep brought her no rest these days.

Only the sun would bring relief from all her troubles.

And yet, she feared sleep more than she hated darkness, and would have stayed awake all night if she could.

But to do so would invite a quarrel with Starlight the next morning, and so, when her allotted time had passed, Sunset knelt by Starlight’s side and nudged her awake.

Starlight’s blue eyes opened. “Thanks,” she murmured as she rubbed briefly at one eye with her right hand, before picking up her gun.

“Troubled sleep?” Sunset asked.

“You mean trouble sleeping?”

“No,” Sunset said, “I mean I could see you tossing and turning with an uncomfortable look on your face.”

Starlight sighed. “Like Trixie said, everyone makes mistakes,” she murmured. “Been a long time since they … never mind. Thanks.” She got to her feet. “Hey … before you turn in, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Sunset said. It puts off the moment when I have to turn in.

“You’ve told us everything about this mission, right?”

“I have,” Sunset replied, her voice bristling a little at the implication. “What do you think I might have left out?”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Is this … is it anything to do with Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood and their little organisation?”

Sunset fought to keep the surprise off her face. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm,” Starlight murmured with intense and obvious scepticism. “Well, maybe you’re right, or maybe you’re just covering for them. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then good for you; if you do know what I’m talking about, then I don’t blame you for being cautious. But this mission … there aren’t going to be any surprises, right?”

“I can’t promise that,” Sunset replied. “But if there are surprises, they’ll surprise me too.”

Starlight smiled, if only slightly. “I guess that’ll have to be good enough for me,” she said. “You should get some rest. I’ll take over from here.”

Sunset laid down, much though it was against her inclinations to do so, because Starlight was right: she did need to get some rest, at least. She looked up at the stars, staring up at them and at the broken moon that dominated the night sky.

Thoughts besieged her, thoughts of what might be waiting for them tomorrow at Arcadia Lake, of what might befall Starlight and Trixie on this mission, of what might await her back at Beacon.

Her scroll vibrated some more, but Sunset resolutely ignored it. It would be … far easier to explain all this in person, much as the others might chafe at the delay.

Eventually, weariness overtook her like a patient hunter, and like her namesake, the sun itself descending beneath the horizon, Sunset sunk into a slumber.

It was as exactly as restful as she had expected, which was to say: not at all.

She dreamt she was in Mountain Glenn again, in the caverns beneath the city.

She dreamt she saw them die, one by one, before her eyes.

Over and over again.

While she was forced to watch.

It was exactly as Salem had shown it to her: Pyrrha’s pride crumbling into pain and shock, her emerald eyes wide as she struggled futilely for life; terror and agony mingling in Jaune’s screams; Ruby vanishing before her eyes, one moment standing there, the other … gone, swallowed up, consumed; Blake reached for Sunset, but there was nothing Sunset could do to help her.

She could only watch. She could only watch them all.

To dream about the train … came as almost a relief.

Suffice it to say that Sunset was very glad to wake up, to feel the sun on her face, to see the blue sky instead of the night sky, to be up and moving, where she could remember that they were only dreams, only nightmares, with no more power to harm her than Salem’s words beneath the city.

She could try and forget about them as the three huntresses moved forwards.

And the road ahead certainly gave her occasion to forget, because as they moved forward, they found that they were having to fight their way forward through hordes of beowolves that barred their way.

It was clear why nobody had been able to reach Arcadia Lake before; these grimm concentrations had probably put most people off trying, and with the situation in Vale as it was, there would be difficulties getting a huntsman to come out to the middle of nowhere like this.

Nevertheless, the three of them pushed forward, fighting their way through the grimm that stood against them, blasting or cutting them down, burning or freezing them with dust, fighting their way through the press of black bodies, smashing the masks of bleached bone, turning them all to smoke and ashes.

Until at last they came to what seemed like it might, just maybe, be the reason no one had heard from Arcadia Lake lately.

What they came to was a barrier, a barrier of dark red, a deep crimson. A barrier that stretched out on either side of the road, and rose up into the sky as well.

“What do you think it is?” Starlight asked.

“Could it be magic?” Trixie suggested.

Starlight frowned. “I … what kind of magic could do something like this?”

“But you’re accepting that it is magic?” Sunset asked. “Just like that?”

“Magic is real,” Trixie insisted. “It’s real, and people have it. What do you think it is that makes the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie so Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrful? And besides, if this isn’t magic, then what is it?”

Sunset held up her hands. “I know that magic is real. I was just surprised that Starlight believed in it as well. Not everyone does.”

Starlight laughed nervously. “Well, when you hang around with Trixie long enough … do you really think that’s it? Do you really think that it could be … magic?”

Sunset didn’t reply. It was certainly a possibility, but at the same time … at the same time, it was a rather worrying one. For one thing, this barrier was stretching for some considerable distance — she couldn’t see it curving noticeably, which meant that if it was curving, then it was doing so rather shallowly — which would be quite a feat if accomplished through magical means.

Who was so powerful that they could accomplish such a thing?

How were they so powerful? Even in Equestria, Sunset couldn’t have managed anything like that! And magic in Remnant was a lot less powerful!

So how … and who?

Sunset recalled Professor Ozpin’s complaint, about Equestria dumping its villains and monsters into Remnant. Was that what was waiting for them? Was some long-forgotten terror of Equestria behind this?

“If it’s not magic, then what is it?” Trixie demanded. “A semblance? Who has a semblance that powerful?”

“It could be technologically-based,” Starlight pointed out.

“In Vale?” Trixie asked. “If they had shields like this, why wouldn’t they use it to protect Vale itself, instead of some out-of-the-way village?”

“You’ve got a point there,” Starlight admitted. “I guess we’ll find out when we get to the village. If we can reach the village.”

Sunset held out one white gloved hand; a green glow surrounded it as a ball of energy, a little larger than a thumb, emerged from her palm with a pop and drifted lazily towards the crimson barrier.

It struck the barrier and fizzled out, a touch of green light spreading a few inches across the dark red.

And then the barrier itself opened for them, an arch appearing in the blood red light, a gap through which they could all walk, if they so chose.

“Okay, is anyone else freaked out now?” Starlight asked.

“No,” Trixie said. “After all, the Great and Powerful Trixie is never freaked out by anything, no matter how unexpected. Are we really going to walk through there?”

“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Sunset said. “But there’s still time for the two of you to back out.”

“Don’t start that again,” Starlight said. “Whatever this is … we owe it to the people of that village to find out what’s going on and try to fix it.”

Behind them, the howling of more beowolves began to fill the air.

“Besides,” Starlight added, “we might actually be better off on the other side of … whatever this is.”

The archway waited; the barrier was silent and impassive, all save for this single hole through which they could traverse. If they so chose.

They chose.

The Dream Maker, Part Two (New)

The Dream Maker, Part Two

“No reply yet?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha sighed. “No,” she murmured, putting her scroll down on the table beside her. Her head bowed forwards slightly, causing one of the strands of her ponytail to fall across her shoulder. “She’s still not answering.”

Sitting across the table in Beacon’s cafeteria from the three present members of Team SAPR, Yang felt her hands clench into fists.

None of them noticed. They had other things on their mind, like the fact that there were only three present members of Team SAPR.

‘I’m not going to run,’ huh, Sunset?

Watching them fret, watching them worry, watching them wonder where she’d gone, watching them trying to reach her … perhaps she should have been worried too, or perhaps she should have been sad for them to be going through this.

Yang found herself getting angry instead.

“Do you think we should call the police?” Ruby asked. “I mean, maybe something happened to her, out in Vale?”

“Like what?” Jaune replied. “This is Sunset we’re talking about; it would take someone pretty serious to take her on, and ever since the Breach … Vale’s been pretty quiet. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but personally, I don’t see that happening.”

“Then where is she?” Ruby demanded. “And why isn’t she answering any of Pyrrha’s calls?”

Because they never answer when they decide to run, Yang thought.

“Perhaps we are all worrying over nothing,” Pyrrha suggested. “After all, it has only been one night. Perhaps she … perhaps she simply had such a good time that she forgot to come home, and didn’t notice the messages I left.”

“When you say ‘had a good time,’” Nora said, leaning forwards on the table a little, “you’re talking about getting blackout drunk, right?”

Pyrrha coughed into one hand. “Not … necessarily,” she answered. “She may have … she may have come across some handsome young man — or woman, for that matter — and woken up in their apartment. I believe that sort of thing happens all the time.”

“In sitcoms, maybe,” Nora replied.

“Well, I’m sorry, I don’t have a lot of experience with these situations!” Pyrrha snapped.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head yet further, the teal drops on their chains falling so that they were about level with her closed eyes. A sigh escaped.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a calmer, softer, more contrite voice. “I just…”

“It’s okay,” Nora told her, reaching diagonally across the table to place her hand on top of Pyrrha’s. “I get it. I shouldn’t have said anything; I was just…”

“We’re not altogether sure that’s likely,” Ren said.

No, there’s something a lot more likely that’s happened here, Yang thought.

Jaune put a hand on Pyrrha’s arm. “We’re all worried,” he said. “But … I’ve gotta say, I’m with Nora on this one. Why would Sunset decide to go on a bender, or clubbing, or whatever, on the night we were all supposed to go to the wake together? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” Yang growled. “It doesn’t.”

None of them paid her any attention.

“Do you think we should tell Professor Ozpin that she’s gone?” suggested Ruby.

“Not yet,” Pyrrha replied. “I don’t want to get Sunset into trouble unnecessarily; we should give her some more time before we bring her absence to the attention of the authorities.”

“So what do we do until then?” asked Ruby.

“Look for her in Vale, maybe?” Jaune answered. “Other than that, I don’t know that there’s much we can do, until she decides to reply to Pyrrha’s messages.”

Ruby looked down at the table in front of her. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Why would she just disappear like that?”

“Because she’s gone!” Yang snapped. “She’s gone, and she isn’t answering because she doesn’t intend to come back, and she doesn’t want to be found. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is. You won’t be seeing her again.”

“You don’t know that—” Jaune began.

Yang glared at him. “I know what I’m talking about,” she said, in a voice as cold as ice and as sharp as a blade, “which is why I should have known better than to trust her.”

“'Trust her'?” Ruby repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“Sunset promised me that she wouldn’t do this!” Yang growled. “In the hospital, she promised me. ‘I’m not going to run,’ she said, and I believed it.”

Ruby started to speak. “You don’t know that—”

“Yes,” Yang said. “Yes, I do. She’s run away, because she’s the kind who always runs away. That’s just what people like her do: they split when the going gets tough.”

“That’s not fair,” Pyrrha declared, her head snapping up to look at Yang.

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said, her voice rising. “I don’t know what prompted Sunset to say something like that to you, but I do know that Sunset is a woman of her word; if she gave you that promise, then she will hold to it.”

“Then where is she?” Yang demanded.

“Miss Shimmer is doing a job for me,” Professor Ozpin’s voice, light and smooth as ever, interrupted the conversation between the students. They all looked around to see that the headmaster had stolen upon them while they quarrelled and now stood over them at their table, looking down upon them all.

“I apologise,” he continued, “I should have notified you earlier as Miss Shimmer’s teammates, but the task itself arose on very short notice, and you were preoccupied at the wake for the victims of the Breach.”

The six students stared at him in silence for a moment, and for moments more which stretched onwards while Professor Ozpin stood there, a cup of hot chocolate held in one hand, looking unreadable as he waited for their response.

“Sunset … Sunset’s on a mission?” Ruby asked.

“That is correct, Miss Rose.”

“By herself?” Jaune added. “Without us?”

Professor Ozpin took a moment before he answered. “That is also correct, Mister Arc.”

Another silence, only a little shorter than the first, greeted that announcement.

“Because that’s something we do now?” Nora said warily. “Is this something that we should all expect from now on, you to pick on someone to go out by themselves?” As she spoke, she wrapped both her hands around Ren’s arm.

“Nora,” Run began.

“Ren, I love you, but you would be dead in ten minutes without me, and we both know it.”

Yang didn’t say anything, but privately, she didn’t disagree; Ren was very intelligent, very disciplined; he worked hard and had good instincts, but he was also a prime example of why the huntsmen academies brigaded students into teams of four and why some huntsmen chose not to work alone after graduation. He was definitely the kind of person who needed teammates to cover for him.

But, to be fair to Ren, that was most students; of the six of them sat at this table, Yang would only trust herself and Pyrrha to go out on a mission by themselves and come back in one piece. Was Sunset also part of that select group? She had the raw power for it, but did she have the instincts, the awareness? Yang thought not.

Which raised the question of why Professor Ozpin thought otherwise.

“No, Miss Valkyrie, this will not be a common occurrence,” Professor Ozpin explained. “Students are placed in teams for a reason.”

“And yet you sent Sunset out alone, Professor,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “Events moved swiftly, and the situation … is rather unique.”

“What is the situation?” asked Ruby.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any more details than I have,” Professor Ozpin said. “Rest assured, Miss Shimmer’s absence, regrettable though it may be, is known and has my authorisation. And, while I understand your worry, I trust you will recognise that, in the field, it may simply not be possible for Miss Shimmer to respond to your calls.”

Pyrrha’s voice was very quiet as she said, “Of course, Professor.”

But why did you send her out by herself? Yang wondered. What about events moved so swiftly that you could only get Sunset, and not the rest of Team SAPR?

It occurred to her that perhaps this was something to do with Salem and all the other business that Sunset and the others were involved in. The trouble with that hypothesis was that the others were involved in it just as much as Sunset. So again, to come back to the same old question, why send Sunset on her own, and not her teammates who were equally involved in Ozpin’s secrets?

Of course, Yang did not discount the possibility that Professor Ozpin could have been lying. But about what, and to what purpose?

She just couldn’t work it out.

But … she would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t glad to be proved wrong.

“I’m sorry, guys,” she said. “It looks like I jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry I judged Sunset that way.”

“Given the … circumstances, Miss Xiao Long, I’m sure that nobody begrudges you your suspicion,” Professor Ozpin said. “And there was no harm done. However, please try and have a little more faith in your classmates in future; you may need to rely on them one day.”

I wasn’t talking to you, Professor, Yang thought. “I already do, Professor,” she said.

Professor Ozpin smiled. “I’ll leave you to get back to breakfast in peace,” he said. “I just thought that you should know.” He took a sip from his chocolate before he turned away and began to walk out of the dining hall.

“Huh,” Jaune said. “That … wasn’t what I expected.”

“At least now we know,” ventured Ruby.

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “At least now we know, right, Pyrrha?”

“Hmm?” Pyrrha murmured, her eyes still fixed upon Professor Ozpin as he left.

“Pyrrha?”

“Yes?” Pyrrha asked, looking around at him. “Will you all excuse me for a moment?”

“Uh, sure, but—”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before she got up and began to walk briskly after Professor Ozpin.

“Professor!” Pyrrha called, as she walked out of the dining hall, the sunlight glinting upon her gilded armour, the contrast in brightness making her eyes narrow momentarily. “Professor Ozpin!”

Professor Ozpin looked over his shoulder at her. “Was there something else, Miss Nikos?”

Pyrrha approached him. “Professor Ozpin,” she said softly. “May we speak a moment?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a little while. “Is this the sort of conversation that would be better held in private, Miss Nikos?” he suggested.

“Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “What you have … this mission that you have sent Sunset on … it is highly irregular.”

“I am aware of that, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin acknowledged.

“Might I ask if it is in any way connected with other … irregular happenings of late?” asked Pyrrha.

“No, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said at once. “It is not related in any way.”

“I … see,” Pyrrha murmured, although, truth be told, she saw very little. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Good day, Miss Nikos.”

He made to walk away again, and Pyrrha let him go. She stood in front of the dining hall doors, making way a little for the students still drifting in for breakfast.

She saw very little. Sunset’s mission was nothing to do with Salem; Professor Ozpin had told her as much, and Pyrrha did not doubt his word. In truth, it would have made little sense for Sunset to have been despatched alone on such a task, given that they were all in on the secret.

And it made little sense that Sunset would be despatched on her own on any errand. That was the thing that bothered her, the thing that Professor Ozpin had made very little effort to explain, and what explanation he offered had not been a good one.

Sunset, if she had been here and Pyrrha had been the one sent on a mission by herself, would doubtless have seen malice and mischief in it. Pyrrha herself was not so suspicious and yet … what was going on? Why had Sunset gone by herself, even if the task was a simple one, why could they not have undertaken it together?

The headmaster’s explanation, that there had been no time … Pyrrha was afraid to say that it did not hold water with her. What could have been so urgent? And even if it were urgent, why could the rest of them not have followed, with Sunset going on ahead? Why were they condemned to wait and wonder?

Why was this happening all of a sudden?

Where are you, Sunset?

Wherever you are, be safe.

Be safe and come back to us.

The crimson barrier closed behind them as the three huntresses stepped through it, the red energy descending like a curtain, sealing off the archway through which they had walked mere moments before.

Trixie gathered up her starry cape around her, lest any of it be caught in the closing doorway like… well, like a cape caught in a closing door.

The barrier sealed itself up, leaving no way back out that Sunset could see. No way back to where they had been before.

Starlight got out her scroll. “Well, I can’t say that I’m too surprised, but we’ve just lost all signal. Whatever this is, it’s disrupting communications. Which explains why nobody’s heard from Arcadia Lake in a while.”

“Which implies that this barrier, whatever it is, has been up for some time,” Sunset murmured.

“It’s better than the other implication,” Trixie said. “Starlight’s implication at least implies that the village is still there, waiting for us. I mean, why raise a magical barrier—?”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s magic yet,” Starlight pointed out.

Trixie ploughed on regardless. “Why raise a magical barrier to keep people out if there’s nothing left to keep people out of?”

That was a good point. A point that was reinforced as the group of beowolves — a score of them in all — came into view, darting out of the thickets and the brush that lay on either side of the road, loping across the grassy plains, running towards them with their teeth bared. The barrier, whatever it was, magic or otherwise, did not restrict sound, and Sunset could hear the beowolves howling as they bore down upon them.

Sunset took a step back and raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, but the beowolves slowed as they approached the barrier, stopping altogether a few feet away from it. They stalked back and forth, glaring at the huntresses with their red eyes, growling and snarling — one in particular, a one-eyed alpha who towered above the rest of the pack, seemed to have its one eye fixed on Sunset, staring straight at her as though it recognised her from somewhere — but they did not breach the barrier. They did not even try. The wall of red did not open for them, and they seemed to recognise that they could not break through it.

They simply waited, so close to the huntresses and yet so far away at the same time, separated by this force, whatever it might be.

“Does it occur to anyone else that there’s a certain irony here?” Starlight asked.

“'Irony'?” said Trixie.

“It seems as though our mission is going to involve bringing down … whatever this is,” Starlight said, gesturing at the barrier, “if only so that contact with the rest of the kingdom can be resumed. But if we do that, then Arcadia Lake becomes vulnerable to the grimm again.”

“It still has the lake,” Trixie pointed out.

“True,” agreed Starlight. “But you know what I mean, right?”

Sunset frowned. “Maybe … maybe that’s not our mission?”

“How do you mean?” asked Starlight.

“I mean, if this barrier is keeping out the grimm, then maybe we should leave it up,” Sunset said. “It’s not doing any harm.”

“That we know of yet,” Starlight responded. “And that’s assuming that you don’t count jamming communications as ‘any harm.’”

“We should push forward,” Trixie declared, twirling her wand above her head like a baton, “and discover more about what’s really going on around here.”

Sunset wondered who had put Trixie in charge of what was supposed to be Sunset’s mission, but it would have been churlish to have argued over what was, ultimately, a pretty good idea, no matter whose idea it was, and so, she nodded in agreement.

The three huntresses turned away from barrier and beowolves alike, and walked away down the dirt road that led to Arcadia Lake.

And the beowolves sat on the other side of the barrier and watched them go, growling softly as they waited.

Now that they were on the other side of the barrier and moving past it, it became easier to notice that the barrier was, in fact, a dome of some kind; it did not rise straight up but curved as it rose, curving over their heads, running past them and pointing the way towards Arcadia Lake, casting a crimson glow over the world as it filtered out the sunlight that passed through it. It was as if the world here was trapped in an eternal dawn, and a particularly red dawn at that.

Of course, it being a dome made sense, far more sense than the idea of a great wall that had suddenly bisected Sanus. Even so, the revelation that it was a dome and not a wall brought them — brought Sunset, at least — no closer to understanding just what it was than she had been before.

Could it be magic? Certainly, it could; there were shield spells that could produce a similar effect — in fact, if the shield spell were cast by a unicorn with a crimson magical aura, then it would look exactly like this. But a shield of this size, covering so great a distance? Sunset couldn’t see the dome curving at the sides, though she presumed that it was doing so; it was not only Arcadia Lake that was being covered but a great chunk of the surrounding area also. This was not impossible; a powerful unicorn, with command over the vagaries of magic, could do as much: Sunset had never tried it, but she might have had the power to do so; Princess Celestia, of course, could have done it with ease; as an alicorn, it was probable that Cadance could have done as much; and of course, Princess Twilight would have found it easy. Even a more ordinary unicorn with a talent and cutie mark for shields and barriers might have been able to accomplish the feat. It was by no means unthinkable, but that was in Equestria. Here in Remnant, where magic was so much weaker … how? Who? What? What might be waiting for them there?

Sunset found herself wishing that it was not magic; she didn’t really want to be confronted by someone who was so much more powerful in this world than she was.

Of course, not all magic came from Equestria; she knew that there was magic native to Remnant also, although nothing that she had read suggested it could be used in so unicorn a fashion as it was being employed here.

Even if that were the case, if a prophet was waiting for them on the island, she would, again, be considerably more powerful than Sunset.

Or she might be a Red Queen. After all, the colour of this dome suggests as much.

And it would explain why they wanted to cut off Arcadia Lake from the rest of Vale: how better to rule than to isolate the place you want to rule from anywhere or anyone who might dispute it?

But then why let us through?

That had been a conscious decision on somebody’s part, Sunset believed, in part because she could not believe otherwise. Magic was not sentient; it did not have a will of its own. Well, not unless you separated it from all control, as she had done when she gave Twilight some of her magic to study, but magic released and out of control would not have formed a dome like this in the first place, still yet have opened it in a single spot to admit Sunset and the others.

Someone had created this dome and remained in control of it. Someone had sensed that Sunset — and possibly the others too, but the fact that the archway had appeared as Sunset’s magic struck the barrier struck Sunset in turn as a very telling fact.

Someone had sensed their presence and decided to let them in anyway.

Welcome to my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

Sunset shivered. She had walked into a trap set by her enemy once before; she had no desire to repeat the experience — or see the consequences repeated.

Her equine ears pricked up, assailed by a far off, distant sound, a sound which seemed to be coming closer and closer.

The sound of a train rattling down the tracks, speeding along with that juddering noise, the screech of metal wheels upon the rails, the shrill, high pitched whistle.

Coming closer and closer, bearing down upon her.

“Do you hear that?” Sunset demanded, looking around, turning in place to see what lay nearby.

“Hear what?” Starlight asked.

“I … I thought I heard a train coming,” Sunset murmured.

“'A train'?” Trixie repeated. “Where would a train be coming from? Or going to? Magical dome cutting off the area, remember? Even if there were any train tracks, it’s not like anything would be running on them.”

“Right,” Sunset muttered. “Sorry, I just … I could have sworn … never mind.”

Just my imagination. My thoughts run amok and so infect my other senses.

I must not be ruled by fear; this is not Mountain Glenn. There need be no great evil waiting for us at the lake.

With good fortune, it may even be something good, a benevolent protector, perhaps.

One may hope at least.

Or at the very least, not give in to fear before its time.

Sunset pushed all concerns about what might be waiting for them at Arcadia Lake to the back of her mind as the three of them pressed forward. On this side of the dome, there was no sign of any grimm in evidence — none could pass the dome, and none had been on the inside of it when it was raised — and so, without danger, Sunset was free to appreciate the countryside through which they walked.

It would have been prettier under a blue sky, no doubt, but even cast in a crimson dawn-like glow as it was, the land here was quite beautiful. Save for this single dirt road, which did not seem a great imposition, the landscape seemed practically unspoiled by man, and even the evidence of human presence — the windmill atop the rise falling into disuse, the rustic cottage that seemed uninhabited — added to the idyllic charm of the place rather than detracting from it. Trees grew tall, and flowers of red and yellow sprouted from their branches; daffodils blossomed by the side of the road; berries grew ripe upon the bushes, and the fact that Sunset wouldn’t have stuck any of them in her mouth didn’t detract from how nice they were to look upon. Little molehills disturbed the grassland, while a red squirrel darted down from a tree to dash across their path. Birds sang, heedless of the power that held them captive, content in their moment to moment existences.

We should all be so lucky.

“Nice place, isn’t it?” Starlight murmured.

“A little empty for Trixie’s tastes,” Trixie replied.

“You think so?” Starlight asked.

Trixie glanced at her. “You don’t think so?”

“It reminds me of Canterlot,” Starlight explained.

“Canterlot had Canterlot,” Trixie pointed out. “A town at the centre of things.”

“And we’re on our way to a village,” Starlight reminded her. “My point is that it reminds me of the land outside of Canterlot.”

“Trixie finds the land outside of Canterlot to also be empty,” Trixie declared. “Otherwise, it would be a part of Canterlot and not outside it.” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Trixie prefers her flowers in a vase.”

“You really don’t appreciate this?” Starlight asked, a touch of disbelief creeping into her voice. “It doesn’t do anything for you?”

“Is there any reason why it should?” countered Trixie.

“Because it’s beautiful,” Sunset suggested.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, no?” Trixie said. “I mean, look at your teammate, Jaune Arc.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting that he beholds beauty wrongly or that he wrongly is beheld?”

Trixie smirked. “Which do you think?” she asked.

“I think you should keep your opinions on that to yourself,” Sunset said flatly. “I won’t stand to hear my teammates insulted.” Even if I’ve said much the same thing at times.

Especially because I’ve said much the same thing at times.

Trixie held up her hands. “Fine, if you don’t want me to say it, I won’t say it. But you know what I mean, right?”

“I’m surprised,” Starlight said. “I mean you’ve talked about wanting to travel. I thought that meant you’d appreciate the open road and, well, what lies around it.”

“The point of travelling, Starlight, is to get to the place you’re travelling to,” Trixie explained. “Trixie wants to see places, not to see the nowheres that lie in between places. That’s why, if The Great and Powerful Trixie were to travel, Trixie would do so in a camper van or something, so that she could enjoy the comforts of home even when in between places.”

“Your military career might put a dampener on any travel plans,” Sunset pointed out. “Or do you plan to go independent after graduation?”

“No,” Trixie replied. “The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrrixie will be lending her talents to the Atlesian military. After all, how could I expect them to get on without me?” She winked. “But I’ll get some time off some time to pursue my passions.”

“You’d get more if you choose your own work without reference to anyone else,” Sunset said.

“And in return, Trixie would be all by herself,” Trixie said. “Great and Powerful and all alone.”

“I don’t disdain working solo,” Starlight said. “Well, okay, I do disdain working solo, and I’ve kind of admitted that already, but what I mean is … working on your own, that’s just stupid in my book; everyone needs someone to watch their back, no matter how skilled or how smart, no matter how many people think that you’re ready to bear the weight on your own. Something will always come along that you never expected, something that you aren’t ready for, no matter what people think, and if you try and shoulder that weight alone … you’ll break. You’ll break, and your only hope is that someone, a group of someones, will help to put you back together again. So I don’t think any huntsman should work by themselves, with no backup. In point of fact, I think that’s why we end up with so many dead huntsmen, and the quicker people realise that and knock it off, the safer the kingdoms will be, but what I’m trying to say is that if anyone wants to work for themselves after graduation, that’s fine. I’d rather they do it in a group, but even someone like Robyn Hill can do good. I’m sure she’s got her reasons for doing the things she does. But personally … the more people standing alongside you, the more people you can rely on when that thing you never expected happens, the better. And I don’t just mean that for myself; I’d like to think that I mean it for the people that I can be there to help too.”

Trixie nodded. “Trixie … I want to stand alongside everyone, not just Starlight and Sunburst, but Dash and Applejack and Maud if she decides to come back, and Blake if she decides to join us. I don’t just want to be the lone star, even though of course The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie would be the brightest star that ever shone in the firmament. But Trrrrrixie wants to be the brightest star … in a whole sky full of stars.” One hand brushed against the edge of her starry cloak.

Sunset smiled. “You make it sound almost appealing.”

“But not appealing enough that you’d consider transferring,” Starlight guessed.

“Not a chance,” Sunset replied.

Starlight chuckled. The three of them continued on a little way, progressing down the dirt road towards — hopefully — their destination, before she observed, "You know, as pretty as this is, there is one pretty big reason why we need to bring this dome down somehow, whatever it is, in spite of the danger of the grimm."

"Really?" asked Sunset. "What's that?"

"Can you see a single farm around here?" replied Starlight. "Because I sure can't. Not a single farm or field or even an orchard. If this dome stays up, where is all the food going to come from?"

Sunset hadn't considered that, but now that her attention had been drawn to it … yeah, this countryside really was untouched, wasn't it? Which was largely responsible for its idyllic appearance, but on the other hand meant that it wasn't really producing anything useful beyond the calm and spiritual renewal that came from spending time in nature.

"Maybe they could fish the lake?" she suggested.

"They'll fish the lake clean out of fish if it's all they have to live on," Starlight muttered. "This dome might be keeping them safe from the grimm, and perhaps whoever raised it had good intentions by it, but if Arcadia Lake stays cut off from the rest of the kingdom…"

"Right," Sunset murmured.

"If whoever cast this spell did have good intentions, they'll understand that," Trixie said.

"We don't know that it's magic, Trixie, not for certain," Starlight pointed out.

"Trixie can feel it in my bones," Trixie declared. "And with a show of power like this, we can prove it! We'll be able to prove to Remnant that magic is real; nobody will be able to deny something like this! If only Twilight were here!"

"The person whose magic it is gets a say in all this," Sunset said.

"If there is a magician there and they were concerned at all about secrecy, then they wouldn't have done … this," Starlight said, gesturing to the dome above them.

"It's particularly conspicuous," Trixie declared. "Even by your standards."

Sunset's eyes boggled as she felt a chill run down her back. "My standards?" she spluttered. "What do you mean, my standards?"

Trixie said nothing, but smirked and winked at her.

She knows. She knows … well, I mean she doesn't know; she probably doesn't know that I'm from Equestria, but she knows that I have magic.

A fact for which I probably have only myself to blame; as she said, I've not exactly been inconspicuous in the way that I've used my powers. I haven't troubled to hide my light beneath a bushel since my duel with Pyrrha.

I have relied upon the fact that nobody believes in magic to be my cloak, trusting in the fact that nobody would even consider that I might have magical powers, since magical powers are the stuff of children's tales.

But of course, someone who did believe in magic, someone whose mind was open to the possibility, would see that the power she possessed was inconsistent with a semblance. It had happened with Cinder, and it had apparently happened with Trixie too.

Thinking about it, Twilight should feel disappointed that I had to tell her before she worked it out for herself.

Out-thought by The Great and Powerful Trixie, Twilight, tut tut.

I'm never going to let her hear the end of it.

Perhaps Sunset ought to have been more worried that someone else knew her secret, but at least Trixie only knew part of the secret, and not the worrying part, the part that touched upon other people and other worlds which she would rather have spared from all this; no, Trixie only knew the personal part of the secret.

And it seemed that she had no intention of doing anything with it. It seemed, indeed, that she had known the secret for some time and sat on it for all that time, and why would that change now?

And Rainbow Dash seemed to trust these two, relying on them for backup whenever backup was required, which meant it was probably fine for Sunset to trust them too.

She'd better hope so, given that they were all in this together with no way out.

Nevertheless, Sunset did not confirm Trixie's unspoken assumption, saying nothing further about it. That seemed to suit Trixie just fine. As Sunset had said, the other mage got a say in the matter, and Trixie seemed to accept Sunset's desire to keep her magic a secret — however much she showed it off at the same time.

It was not too long after that that the three huntresses finally arrived at Arcadia Lake, reaching the end of the dirt road and coming to a wooden pier which extended out a little way over the clear water.

The lake was large, fed by a river descending down from out of the mountains to the east, and — though with a settlement built atop it it could not quite call itself unspoiled as could the lands around, nevertheless — it matched in beauty the countryside surrounding it. The water was unpolluted, and though the reflections on the waves were a little marred by being as red as blood, Sunset thought that, in the natural sunlight, this lake would sparkle like a sapphire. At present, it had a ruby hue, like the wine dark sea of which the Mistralian poets sang. Birds sat atop the water's surface, dipping their heads down below the gentle waves, before taking off, little fishes wriggling in their mouths, shrieking out to another as they spread their wings.

An island sat in the surface of the lake, and upon the lake had been raised a village, a village which had outgrown the island that had nurtured it, extending outwards over the water via synthetic platforms resting upon stilted poles sank into the water. From this distance, the houses seemed small — even closer, they would still seem small, being only a single storey as they mostly seemed to be — but well-built, the stone or brick covered up in decorative cladding that climbed up the walls, forming what almost looked like crowns about the roofs. Piers extended out over the lake, with boats of various sizes — tending towards small or medium, although Sunset saw at least one that looked large enough to carry goods in bulk — tied up alongside them.

That, it had to be said, was more than could be said for the situation in which Sunset, Starlight, and Trixie found themselves.

"Any ideas how we can get from here to there?" Trixie asked.

Starlight's eyes narrowed a little. "I'm not sure that's going to be a problem."

On the other side of the lake, in the village itself, they could see a trio of figures moving; they were very small at this distance, and indistinct, more resembling shadows than people, little dark shapes emerging from out of the village and striding out onto a pier nearby. Nevertheless, no matter how small they were, Sunset could make out two of the figures climbing into a modest red boat with a flat prow, while the third person remained behind upon the pier, lingering there as the red boat set out across the lake.

They could hear its engine chugging away as it drew closer, churning the red-tinted water up behind it as it made its way to them. As the boat drew closer, they could see the two figures in the boat more clearly. One was a man, dressed in a red plaid shirt and faded blue jeans, with a little stubble on his face and a dull brown bucket hat upon his head, masking his hair; he was standing at the back of the boat, one hand upon the tiller of the onboard motor.

His companion standing at the prow — posing, almost, with one foot planted upon the edge of the vessel — was a young woman, about the age of Sunset and the others; she was a fanus with a pair of equine legs, ending with iron-shod hooves, emerging from underneath her midnight blue shorts. Midnight blue too were her eyes, which were somewhat slanted and very striking, accentuated with purple eyeshadow and long eyelashes, set in an alabaster face with high, angular cheekbones and a button nose. A circlet of cold iron, black as Soteria's blade and adorned with little points that looked almost like unicorn horns, sprouting from it like the points of a crown, emerging from out of the waves of her hair, adorned her brow. Her hair was a rich purple, streaked — Sunset thought, for it was hard to be sure — with slightly paler shades of pink and, more noticeably, with one or two streaks of pure white; it was voluminous and fell in waves behind her, falling languidly over her shoulders, expanding out on either side of her head and descending past her waist. Above her shorts, she wore a black blouse, with a royal blue waistcoat over the top of it, whose buttons were silver with sparkling gemstones set in them. The collar was undone, revealing a necklace of silver grey clasped about her throat fashioned like a pair of wings enfolding her neck. A long coat of midnight blue fell around her, dropping almost to the floor of the boat in which she stood, and out of the sleeves of that coat, her hands emerged, clad in segmented gauntlets of dark metal, with each segmented section on her fingers or knuckles bristling with a sharp spike, so that it almost seemed as though she were wearing thorns.

As the boat drew up alongside the pier, the girl leapt up onto it, her hooves making a solid thump against the wooden planks. She smiled and tossed back the hair that had crept over her shoulder.

"Reinforcements!" she cried. "And such estimable reinforcements besides: Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, and The Great and Powerful Trixie. We are honoured. Should I expect Pyrrha Nikos to pop up from behind a bush?"

"Sadly, no," Sunset murmured. "Perhaps sadly, at least, although I am not sure how sad it is when I am as uncertain of what she would do if she were here as I am of what we should do now we are here; but — perhaps sadly — she is not here. The rest of Team Sapphire is as absent as the other half of Team Tsunami. But it appears you have the advantage of us, Miss—?"

"Eve," Eve said, holding out her hand. "Eve Viperidae, leader of Team Eden of Haven Academy. It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," Sunset said, taking the offered hand. Eve had a firm grim, made a little rough by the gauntlets she was wearing. "Of course, now that you remind me, I remember Team Eden, of course."

Eve's delicately plucked eyebrows rose. "Really? And what do you remember?"

Sunset hesitated, rather wishing that Eve hadn't asked her that question. "Well…"

Eve grinned. "It's okay. I'm well aware that my team hasn't made a name for itself on the level of the illustrious Team Sapphire, or even Team Tsunami, for that matter."

"‘Or even’?" Trixie demanded.

Eve did not explain, but the smile remained on her face as she shook the hand of Trixie and then Starlight. "I'm glad to see you," she said, "although I'm not certain what brings three huntresses from two different teams — two different academies, even — out here to Arcadia Lake, but I am glad to see you. How did you get past the dome?"

"It opened for us," Starlight said.

"Really?" Eve asked. "It opened for you? How did you achieve that?"

"We wish we knew," Starlight replied.

Eve whistled. "You girls really are special, aren't you?" she said.

"Do you know what it is, this dome?" asked Sunset.

Eve shook her head. "Not a clue. It went up not long after my team arrived. Not long after that girl got sick. I have to admit, I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing at this point. Our mission was to shadow a huntsman hired to protect this village from a spike in grimm activity. Now, the huntsman is dead, half my team is gone, and we can't get out. If … if it seems like I'm fawning over you…" — she looked away, her eyes turning downwards toward the surface of the lake — "it's because I could really use the help right now."

Sunset's jaw hung open for a moment. "Half your team," she repeated, her voice soft, quiet, barely more than a disbelieving whisper.

Half her team, gone? She could scarcely imagine what Eve had just said. Half her team. That was … that was the stuff of nightmares. Pyrrha and Jaune, gone; Pyrrha and Ruby, not there anymore; Ruby and Jaune, snatched away in the blink of an eye. A team cut down from four to two, and all in the course of a single mission. A single training mission, a mission that was supposed to be — inasmuch as anything could be said to be in this line of study — safe.

How could Eve still smile in the face of such loss? How could she still laugh or smirk or joke? Half her team gone, and yet, here she was. Bon Bon had been broken by losses half as severe, and Sunset … the threat of such losses had driven Sunset to such things…

"I'm sorry," Trixie said, reaching out to put a hand on Eve's shoulder. "I am so, so sorry. What you must be going through … I can't even imagine."

Eve smiled, thought it seemed a little stiffer and less genuine than it had been. "Keep moving forward, right? We can't be conquered by our sorrows. I still have a job to do here."

A part of Sunset admired her resolve, and thought that she deserved to be far better known amongst the students than she was, possessed as she was of the right stuff that made a huntress; another part of her could not help but find Bon Bon's grief and incoherent wrath to be … more human.

"How?" Starlight demanded. "I thought the dome was keeping the grimm out?"

Eve hesitated for a moment. "I don't know for sure," she admitted. "It seems to be, but … the best I can theorise is that the dome doesn't obstruct the flow of water, so aquatic grimm are able to get through."

"We need to get this dome down," Starlight declared. "Not only is it cutting the village off, it isn't even keeping it safe at the same time."

"You're right," Sunset admitted. "We need to bring down the dome, then we can summon reinforcements against the grimm if we need them — and get what's left of your team out of here."

Eve nodded. "You should come to the village," she said. "We can make plans there. Come on, this boat will take us back."

She climbed into the red boat, more carefully than she had leapt out of it just a few moments before, and after a moment, Sunset, Starlight, and Trixie followed her. The boat rocked a little as they climbed in.

“Take us back, Clive, if you wouldn’t mind,” Eve said.

“Right,” the man in the plaid shirt — Clive — muttered, as he began to push the boat off the pier and back out into the water.

“You said there was a girl,” Sunset said, wobbling just a little as she tried to keep her balance on the boat. “A girl who was sick, not long before the dome went up.”

Eve looked at Sunset strangely. “You can’t think there’s a connection there?”

“At this point, I’m open to any possibility,” Sunset replied. “Tell us about the girl.”

Eve shrugged. “There isn’t a lot to tell, except perhaps that describing her as having gotten sick might have been misphrasing it a little. She … is in a coma.”

“An accident?” asked Starlight.

“No one knows,” Eve said. “Or at least, if they know, they aren’t saying. Her name is Plum Pole. A nice girl, by all accounts, although I didn’t see much of her before … you know. Parents are working out in Vacuo, I think, sent the girl here to live with her aunt.”

Sunset frowned. “You say that as if it’s so natural.”

“It is what it is,” Eve replied. “I’m not saying that it’s right for the girl, but I’m not saying that it’s wrong either. Sometimes … sometimes your parents don’t have your best interests at heart. It’s best to come away from them as quickly as possible. Find your own niche. Carve your own path.”

“Is that what Miss Pole was doing?” Starlight asked. “Carving her own path?”

There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of Clive starting up the engine again and turning the boat back towards the village as the propeller began to churn the water once more to send them back that way.

“What she seems to have been mostly doing was hanging around with a boy her own age,” Eve said. “Malmsey Scrub, his father is also working in Vacuo, but his mother is ill, so the two of them have moved out here, hoping that the more benign climate and the clean country air will do them good.” She snorted. “Has clean country air ever actually helped someone recover from serious health issues?”

Nobody answered, except that Trixie said, “You seem remarkably well-informed about everyone’s comings and goings.”

“It’s a small village; people like to gossip,” Eve said. “Or at least they did, before … well, before all of this. Anyway, the two of them are the same age, they get along, and they spent a lot of time at the house of Scrub’s uncle, Professor Scrub. Some sort of scientist, I think; nobody knows quite what he does. That’s where the girl was when she suddenly collapsed, apparently. Won’t wake up. As you can imagine, it’s got people on edge.”

“Has she seen a doctor?” asked Starlight.

“There isn’t a doctor here,” Eve said. “He unfortunately passed away. She’s in the care of Doctor Diggory—”

“You just said—” began Starlight.

“He’s a PhD, not an MD,” Eve informed them. “But he is a scientist, so I suppose he’s the next best thing, although not good enough, judging by Miss Pole’s refusal to wake up. And it was about that time that the dome went up, and we lost all contact with the rest of Vale.” She smiled. “And that, as you might say, was when our troubles began.”

“That’s when the nightmares started, too,” Clive muttered.

“'Nightmares'?” Trixie repeated.

“It’s a coincidence,” Eve said dismissively. “Nothing more.”

“'Coincidence,' is it?” Clive demanded. “Coincidence, the whole village or near enough start getting nightmares round about the time that young Miss Pole fell down? She’s cursed.”

“You’re blaming a comatose girl?” Starlight demanded. “You think that she’s … what, sending you nightmares?”

Clive wrinkled his nose. “It ain’t right, so many nightmares, not all at once.”

“You want to know what’s really not right?” Trixie said, her voice trembling. “How about that shape in the water that’s coming right for us?”

Sunset looked around at her, turning so swiftly that she almost lost her balance and fell into the water. She followed Trixie’s shaking hand, pointing out into the water where something, some shape, some large dark shape clearly visible beneath the waves, was making its way directly and unmistakably towards them.

“Oh gods,” Clive groaned. “Oh gods. Oh no, oh gods, oh no.”

Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder. “One of your aquatic grimm?” she asked as Starlight likewise raised her weapon.

“Possibly,” Eve said casually as a baton dropped out of her sleeve and into her hand, before unfolding with a series of clicks and clanks into a spear. “That, or the lake suddenly has sharks in it.”

“Don’t worry,” Trixie said, reaching into one of the pouches at her belt. “One blast of lightning dust, and this thing will be fried before it ever breaches the water.”

“Trixie!” Starlight cried. “You can’t electrocute the lake.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll kill all the fish,” Starlight pointed out, “and anyone who might be so much as touching the water.”

Trixie groaned. “You always want to do things the hard way.”

She had begun to reach into a different pouch for some other dust when the grimm breached the water’s surface.

It was serpentine, with a long black body that emerged from the water in coils, rising out of the lake’s depths only to sink back down again, then rise and fall then rise again in a series of n-shapes, sinuous black lumps like hollow hills emerging under the light of the sun, the light that was turned crimson by the dome that surrounded them.

The grimm was large; judging by the way it extended backwards, Sunset estimated it had be hundreds of feet long, and its head was the size of a Bullhead, but it had very little visible bone on it, just some small spikes running along its back, but much smaller than Sunset would have expected for a grimm of this size. Only its head could be said to be armoured, and even that but slightly, a bony plate covering the top of its head and incorporating the red eyes that stared down at them. The head was as snakelike as the body, save that it was full of teeth, jagged like the teeth of a shark, and all exposed to view as it growled at them.

Clive cowered in the bottom of his boat, whimpering wordlessly at the sight of it.

The grimm seemed to be looking at him in particular.

Sunset gritted her teeth as she opened fire, her rifle cracking. The bullet struck the side of the serpent’s armoured head, ricocheting off the bone. The grimm did not flinch. Sunset aimed a little lower, and her next two shots struck the grimm on its lower jaw, where it was not armoured, but still, it did not flinch. It did not turn its attention away from Clive, huddled in the bottom of the boat, trying to hide from the gaze of those red eyes.

Starlight was firing too, blue bolts blasting from the muzzle of her rifle, peppering the long neck of the serpentine grimm, striking below the head, strafing up and down the body. The grimm didn’t appear to feel it, still less to take injury from it. It continued to growl at Clive, seeming to take grim pleasure in his fear as it loomed over him, casting a shadow over the little red boat.

Starlight fired four more shots, which all hit home but might as well have struck with the force of spit for all the good they did.

“How tough is this thing?” Starlight demanded. “Does it not feel pain at all?”

“It’ll feel this,” Sunset growled as she threw Sol Invictus into the air, the compressed air shoving the bayonet forward until it was the length of a spear or a small pike. Sunset caught the weapon with her telekinesis, her hand surrounded by a glowing green aura as she directed her weapon upwards, through the air, towards the grimm’s head.

It didn’t flinch or move away as Sunset rammed Sol Invictus into its eye.

Clive made a noise that might have been a gasp of disbelief, or might even have been a laugh of hope as the bayonet pierced through the ember-like red eye and penetrated into the head until nothing before the chamber of the rifle was visible.

That got a reaction from the grimm. It roared in pain, bellowing to the heavens, and dived forward towards Clive?

What is with this grimm and this guy? Sunset thought, as she used telekinesis to grab the grimm and hold its head in place, both hands glowing as she focussed all the magic at her command to hold the creature in place.

The serpentine grimm struggled against her, it fought with her, its whole body squirmed, making great splashes in the water, sending foam flying up and waves rising, coils descending and ascending into and out of the water as it tried to push itself forwards, trying to break Sunset’s grip, tried to power through to its prey.

Sunset could feel the pressure on her magic. She could feel it like a drum beat in her head. Her tail flicked back and forth as she scowled, concentrating, pouring her magic into the effort. The green glow that surrounded the head of the grimm as she held it fast flickered in the face of the grimm’s strength and its resistance. But Sunset hung on.

Trixie slotted a vial of ice dust into the bottom of her wand, then gestured with a sweeping motion out at the grimm in the water beyond. Ice leapt from the tip of her weapon, freezing the water from the boat on outwards, an expanding cone of ice covering the surface of the lake until it reached the grimm, freezing the water all around the long neck where it rose above the waves.

“Now, Starlight!” Trixie cried.

Starlight leapt out of the boat, her rifle transforming in her hands into a glaive with a glowing blue blade as she charged across the ice, a war cry rising from her lips. The ice crunched beneath her boots as she reached the grimm, spinning her weapon above her head before she slashed at its neck in a wide arc, cutting into the black flesh. She slashed again, and again and again, not severing the head but seeming as though she meant to do so piece by piece since she could not do so in a single stroke. Again and again, her weapon cut deep, and as it cut so, the blade seemed to glow brighter and brighter than before.

And then the grimm … vanished. It did not die, not as Sunset had seen grimm die. It did not cry out in its death throes, it did not descend beneath the waves, it didn’t stop moving, it didn’t turn to smoke or ash, it just … vanished. One moment, it was there, and the next … gone. As if it had never been.

“What … what just happened?” Trixie asked, as Starlight stood at the edge of the ice, looking down into the water as though the grimm might have retreated there to trick them.

“I … I don’t know,” Sunset admitted as she summoned her rifle back into her hand. “But I’m inclined to take it.”

“It’s gone,” Clive gasped, looking out over the edge of the boat. “It’s gone! You got rid of it!”

“That they did,” Eve said. “Bravo, to all of you. Your reputations are certainly not unfounded.”

“I wouldn’t give us too much credit,” Sunset said. “We—”

“Saved a man’s life,” Eve reminded her. “Whatever the mysteries of what occurred here, that is undeniable, no? And that is enough in the end, is it not?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Starlight deserves the lion’s share of the credit,” she said softly, as Starlight walked across the ice and climbed back into the boat.

“As you wish,” Eve said. “Yet there is credit to be shared.”

They passed the rest of the journey back in silence, arriving at the pier extending out from the island itself, the same pier that Eve and Clive had set out from to pick them up.

Ditzy Doo was waiting for them on the dock, dressed in her blue shirt and green skirt, still wearing the pads upon her knees and elbows and the bandages around her hands and arms.

The bandages were starting to look a little grubby and in need of changing. But it probably felt indulgent to ask for clean bandages to protect your hands in a place where bandages of any kind would be in short supply until this dome came down.

She was dry washing her hands as she waited on the pier, rubbing them over and over. "Eve!" she cried, as the boat returned. "Are you okay? I saw that grimm, and who did you—?" She stopped. "Trixie?"

"Ditzy?" Trixie replied, as she climbed out of the boat and onto the wooden pier. "I didn't realise that this was your team." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about your teammates."

"We're all sorry," Starlight added. "If there's anything we can do—"

"No!" Ditzy yelled, cutting her off. "No, you … you can't be here! What are you doing here, Trixie? You need to leave, now!"

"That might be a little difficult, in the circumstances," Sunset murmured.

Ditzy shook her head. "But … but you got in, right? So you could get out, too?"

"Not necessarily, Ditzy," Eve said softly.

"But they have to, you have to!" Ditzy shouted. "You have to get out of here, Trixie, right now!"

"Me?" Trixie replied. "Ditzy, what are you talking about?"

"You … you have to leave," Ditzy insisted. "It's not safe!"

"We know it isn't safe," Starlight informed. "We know what's happened; that's why we're here to—"

"There's nothing you can do!" Ditzy screamed. "Except get out of here! NOW!"

Trixie took a step forward, the wood boards of the pier creaking beneath her boots. "Ditzy—"

"Stay away from me!" Ditzy yelled, turning away and fleeing from the group, her trainers pounding over the dock as she dashed down the pier and into the village itself.

"Ditzy, wait!" Trixie cried as she took off after her, her starry cape billowing out after her as she ran.

Starlight glanced at Sunset.

"Go," Sunset said quietly, with a slight nod of her head for further confirmation, and watched as Starlight followed Trixie, the both of them running in Ditzy's wake.

"They know each other?" Eve asked. She gestured ahead of them, and she and Sunset began to walk up the pier and into the village, leaving Clive behind to see to his boat — and recover his nerves.

As they walked, Sunset nodded once more. "The three of us went to combat school together," she said. "Canterlot, in Atlas."

"And yet she didn't seem upset to see you here," Eve pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly Miss Popularity in those days," Sunset replied. "Ditzy … was the kind of girl who it didn't take a lot for her to be kindly disposed towards you, but I … that wasn't a bar that I managed to clear." She paused for a moment. "I take it that she's taken it hard, the loss of her teammates."

"She blames herself," Eve explained.

"It's hard not to, in the circumstances," Sunset murmured. It took a moment for her to realise what she'd just said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Eve assured her. "I'm aware that my … sanguine attitude can be a little … off-putting, to some."

Sunset furrowed her brow, not bothering to deny it. "I daresay it is healthier than wallowing in grief," she said. "While we are here … we have an overabundance of team leaders here at Arcadia Lake, but for my part, while I'm here, I will look on you as our leader."

Eve's eyebrows rose. "Me? You want me to lead you?"

"Is it so unbelievable?"

"From the leader of the celebrated Team Sapphire? Somewhat," Eve replied. "I have no reputation, my team has no reputation—"

"My team isn't here, and the only reputation I deserve is for good fortune," Sunset said. "I haven't been half so skilled as I've been lucky. You, on the other hand … what you have endured here would have broken me."

Eve took pause for a moment. "So you think leadership should go to the strongest?"

"In the present circumstances, yes," Sunset replied. "Can it be denied?"

"It might be, by some," Eve said. "But, though I would not be so vain as to call myself stronger than you, I agree. And so, as I thank you for the compliment, I will accept this leadership you offer me. I hope I lead you better than I led my own teammates."

"How did they die?" Sunset asked.

Eve frowned. "Would you take it the wrong way if I told you I didn't want to talk about it?"

"No, of course not," Sunset said quickly. "I shouldn't have … I simply wondered … if nothing else, you have preserved this village," she pointed out. "Some might say that is worth losing half your team."

"'Some'?" Eve asked. "But not you?"

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. "That," she said, "is another reason why another is better suited to lead us than myself."

"I must confess, I'm a little surprised," Eve admitted. "This wasn't the attitude that I expected from Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset offered Eve a wan smile. "These missions … they make of us different people than we were, don't they? Glory … seems very far away now."

"Glory was always far away," Eve said. "Glory, honour, duty, they're just words. Words, words, words."

"All of them?" asked Sunset.

"Is it not so?" Eve responded.

They had left the dockside behind them for some little way by now, and were walking down the streets of Arcadia Lake itself. Up close, the village was as picturesque as it had seemed from a greater distance across the water, but up close, it was harder to ignore how empty the whole village felt; there were precious few people out and about, and those that were out seemed keen to get in as quickly as possible, moving with hasty steps, nobody stopping to chat, nobody interacting at all with anyone else who crossed their path. Front doors banged shut as people dashed into their homes, and out of the corners of her eyes, Sunset saw people watching them from out of the windows, their lace curtains twitching as they tried not to be caught in their observations.

"Cheerful place," Sunset observed dryly.

"It was, when we first arrived," Eve told her. "But … events have contrived to make everyone nervous."

"If it were not for this dome, then it would be drawing far more grimm, no doubt," Sunset muttered.

"Perhaps, although without the dome, maybe people wouldn't be so anxious," Eve suggested.

They arrived at the centre of the village, or at least at a village square, large enough to accommodate various stalls on market day; Sunset could imagine that, in normal times, there would be fruits and vegetables sold here, and other things besides. In these decidedly abnormal circumstances, however, they were absent, no doubt huddling in their homes waiting for all of this to pass.

"How are you fixed for food?" asked Sunset.

"Us, or the village?" Eve replied, drifting over to a public bench on the edge of the square.

"Either or both," Sunset clarified as she sat down.

"We're alright for now, I think, for another week or so, at least," Eve said. "And after that—"

"After that, we will not be here," Sunset said reflexively. "We will have brought down this dome and completed our mission."

"Confidence?" asked Eve. "Or optimism?"

Sunset hesitated. "There will be a way," she said. "It opened to let us in—"

"It has opened to let no one out," Eve told her.

"Have you tried application of brute force?" Sunset inquired.

Eve chuckled. "I fear that we may be here for some time," she said, "cut off far from home."

Sunset had no answer to that except to slump forward. She had not really — or at all — considered that possibility. Death, yes; she had considered that they might be going into a trap when they stepped inside the barrier, but not that they might be walking into a sort of stasis, a place where they would endure, apart from the world, unable to rejoin or to affect the world.

Apart from her friends. Cut off from Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, all the rest. Not dead, alive enough and conscious enough to miss them, to wonder where they were and what they were doing, but unable to talk to them, to protect them, to stand with them.

Agonising. The very idea was … awful.

Death, at least, would be swift.

And her death would invite no one else to walk into this trap looking for her.

"I won't let that happen," Sunset declared. "And that is not optimism, nor is it mere confidence."

"No?"

"When I put my mind to a thing, it happens," Sunset insisted. "As this will happen."

"How?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Well, don't expect me to come up with everything at once; I've made a stirring statement, that's enough for a minute," she snapped. "Let me think." She paused. "Where is home, for you? Mistral?"

Eve smiled slightly. "No. My home … is much further away than that." She leaned back upon the bench. "To be honest, I chose Haven rather at random. These Mistralian values … they leave me cold."

"Yes, you've said," Sunset murmured. "Honour and glory are just words."

"Do you disagree?" Eve asked.

"Words have meaning," Sunset replied. "Glory seems far away to me, but it may yet be won; it covers Pyrrha like the gilding on her armour, and even I, if you speak true, seem to have acquired some of it."

"And to what end?" Eve demanded. "What good has it done you? What benefit does it serve? You have glory, and I do not, but we are both stuck here together, and you have vowed to acknowledge my commands, so what is your glory worth? And honour? What is honour, what is this precious thing that is so dear in Mistral? Will honour bring my teammates back? Will honour restore Mistral to its former…"

Sunset smiled. "Its former glory?"

"Its former strength," Eve insisted. "Its former power, its influence, these are the things that matter."

"And how we are seen by others matters not at all?"

"The dead in their graves may be thought well of, but they are no less dead," Eve replied. "And the opinions of others cannot hurt us unless those with ill opinions decide to hurt us. That's where strength comes in."

"Strength for what?" asked Sunset. "Strength to do what? If honour and glory mean nothing to you, then why are you here?"

"Because I was driven out of my home by those who had an ill opinion of me and the strength to act upon their malice," Eve declared. "But one day, I shall become strong enough that I will go home, and I…" She hesitated. "I will pay them back their cruelty."

Sunset said nothing, but the pursing of her lips together and her very silence must have spoken volumes to Eve, for she said, "You disapprove?"

Sunset sighed. "I know you not. I know your story not, your home not, the people that did you wrong are strangers to me, but … I have found it better to…" She stopped, realising that anything that she could say upon the subject of finding a new home and living better in it instead of obsessing over past wrongs and old losses would invariably sound crass to someone who had just lost half their team, two of their closest comrades and dearest friends. Who was Sunset to lecture someone who had borne so much, who could endure so much, was so much stronger than Sunset herself? "You must do as you see fit, of course," she murmured. "I am sure that, in the moment, you will make the right choice, as you have done here."

"And you?" Even asked. "What will you do? Have you had time to think on it?"

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "I would like to start by speaking to these two learned gentlemen, Professor Scrub and Doctor Diggory; it may be that there is something they can tell us about this dome. One of them may even have caused it by an ill-advised experiment."

"If that is so, they've kept it quiet till now," Eve said. "But I will take you to them, nonetheless." She got to her feet. "Come, follow me."

Eve brought Sunset first to the house of Professor Scrub; it was a modest place, about of a size with the pretty, rustic houses of his neighbours all around him, and its location by the waterfront offered a rather nice view of the lake. Or at least, it would have, if the professor didn't appear to have shut up all his windows.

"Why would he do a thing like that?" Sunset wondered.

"Maybe he's afraid someone will spy on him and steal the secrets of his research?" Eve suggested. "Or maybe you can ask him yourself."

"I think I'll stick to business," Sunset muttered as she knocked on the blue front door.

There was no answer. Sunset waited for a few moments, and then a few moments more, and then another little while after that. She knocked again, very gently and politely, doing her best not to seem impatient about it, just to let him know that they were there in case he'd been in the bathroom the first time and hadn't heard them.

There was still no answer.

"I'd say that he might be out, but that doesn't seem very popular around here," Sunset said, as they waited outside.

"Not at the moment," Eve agreed. "And as I understand, the good professor wasn't much of a one for mingling with his neighbours in any case, even before all this."

"He did let his nephew play with Miss Pole; he can't have been a complete recluse," Sunset countered.

"I suppose that's true," Eve allowed, before she hammered heavily upon the door.

"There's no need for that," Sunset said reproachfully.

"You want to call on Doctor Diggory as well, don't you?" Eve asked. "I want to be done by nightfall."

"Why?" responded Sunset. "What happens at night?"

"What doesn't happen at night?" Eve asked, before banging once more upon the Professor's door.

"WHAT?" demanded the man who flung open the door and stood in the doorway. He was a middle-aged man, or perhaps older, although most of the signs of age were contained within his bouffant hair, which was white with a few streaks of grey. His face, although sharp-featured, was not lined or wrinkled or spotted in any way, although the sharpness of his nose combined with the sharpness of his chin combined to give him a rather unfortunate aspect. "What do you…? Oh. It's you."

Eve smiled. "Professor Scrub, allow me to introduce Sunset Shimmer, a huntress of Beacon Academy."

"'A huntress'?" Professor Scrub repeated. He looked up, as though the dome might have collapsed while he wasn't looking. "But—"

"A fortuitous circumstance which may or may not be repeated," Eve said.

"I see," Professor Scrub replied, although from his tone, Sunset couldn't be sure if he actually did see or not. "Well, charmed, I'm sure," he added, and this time, Sunset was in no doubt as to his lack of sincerity. "But if you don't mind, I'm very busy, and I'm sure that you—"

"This won't take long, Professor," Sunset said. "I just wanted to ask you about Miss Pole? May we come inside?"

"No, you may not," Professor Scrub declared. "I'm in the middle of some very complex experiments, and I'm in no position to drop everything and entertain guests."

"What kind of experiments?" asked Sunset.

"The kind that are far too complex for a mere huntress and a child to understand."

"Try me," Sunset said.

Professor Scrub rolled his eyes. "I've already told half the village, it seems, that I have no idea of what came over Miss Pole. I've no idea why everyone keeps harping on the girl; aren't there more important matters to be concerned with?"

"It seems like quite a coincidence," Sunset pointed out.

"But it is a coincidence regardless," snapped Professor Scrub. "And even if it were not, I still couldn't tell you anything about what happened to Miss Pole."

"Could your nephew possibly tell us more?" asked Sunset.

"Perhaps," Professor Scrub allowed, "but Malmsey isn't here. He's … with his mother. Now, if you'll excuse me." He slammed the door in their faces, whether they excused him or not.

Sunset glanced at Eve. "Charming."

"Do you want me to pound on his door some more?" asked Eve.

"No, it seems he doesn't know anything," Sunset said. "I can't think what incentive he'd have to lie if he did. He must want to get out as much as anyone else."

"Well…" Eve said, gesturing at the boarded up windows.

"Correction, he must want food from the outside as much as anyone else," Sunset said. She looked up, the sun was getting pretty low in the sky, and Eve had spoken of wanting to get this wrapped up before dark. "Maybe we'll have more luck with Doctor Diggory."

Doctor Diggory lived in what might have been the largest house in Arcadia Lake, set near the centre of the village, or certainly upon its highest point, at the zenith of the island that rose out of the lake. Although not wide, the house was three storeys tall, which was more than any other house that Sunset had seen in the village. They were greeted at the door by the housekeeper, one Mrs. Macready, who welcomed them both and led them down into the basement, to an oak-panelled room illuminated by a single overhead light, where plants sat in trays upon tables, mingling with various arcane bits of scientific equipment that Sunset could have hardly have guessed at the use of.

A girl, a young girl, around the age of Applejack's sister and her friends, lay on a bed in the middle of the room, her golden hair spreading out behind her like the tail of a comet, her eyes closed and her body unmoving. She was hooked up to various medical devices beeping calmly as she lay. A man sat by her bedside, an old man for sure, and unlike Professor Scrub, he looked it in more ways than just his hair as grey as his three-piece suit; his face was lined with years.

"Doctor," Mrs. Macready said, "sorry to disturb you, but these two huntresses were at the door, asking to speak with you."

"Of course," Doctor Diggory said, rising to his feet and in so doing revealing a slightly stooped back. "Miss Viperidae, hello again, and … I don't believe we've met before."

"No, we haven't, sir," Sunset said, walking towards him and holding out her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, I only just arrived."

"You only just…" Doctor Diggory trailed off in the act of shaking Sunset's hand. "You mean—"

"I'm afraid not," Sunset admitted. "The barrier — the dome — let us pass, but then sealed itself again behind us; I do not know if it will let us leave again."

"Oh, but you must try it, Miss Shimmer!" Doctor Diggory urged. "Now that we know that the dome is not immutable, that it can shift, can even open, then you must, you must see if it will do the same the other way. This could be the key to opening a permanent way through, or at least to getting word of our predicament. It must be attempted — but perhaps not today; it is getting rather late."

"But you are right regardless, Doctor," Sunset confessed. "My friends and I were so focussed on finding out what would await us here at the village, but … yes, tomorrow, we will go back and see if we can persuade the barrier to open up for us again the other way."

"Excellent. Excellent, yes, that … that is not the best news you could have given me, but it is good news, and for that, I thank you, Miss Shimmer. Please forgive me, I haven't introduced myself; my name is Diggory, Doctor Caen Diggory, and you are a huntress. From Haven, as Miss Viperidae is?"

"No, I am a Beacon student."

"Ah, Beacon!" Doctor Diggory. "Yes, dear old Beacon. Tell me, does Bartholomew still teach history there?"

"Bartholomew…" Sunset frowned. "Do you mean Doctor Oobleck?"

"Yes, Doctor Oobleck, of course, that's how you would know him, being a student."

"Yes, he does still teach history, and legends, too," Sunset replied. "You know him?"

"I taught him," Doctor Diggory explained. "I taught Plant Science for a time, a very long time ago, of course, when I was a much younger man."

"You were a huntsman?" Sunset asked.

"Once, yes," Doctor Diggory said. "I always had a soft spot for Bartholomew; teachers shouldn't play favourites, as a rule, but it seems that we struggle to avoid it."

"The fact that Professor Ozpin can be rather blatant in his favouritism probably doesn't encourage restraint," Sunset noted.

Diggory snorted. "No. No, indeed, although I daresay a man of his achievements can afford to engage in a little … well, to bend the rules of best practice a little."

"I did not mean it as a criticism," Sunset said. "Or at least, not too great a one."

"No, Miss Shimmer, neither did I," Doctor Diggory said gently. "Mrs. Macready, will you bring some tea for our guests?"

"That won't be necessary, Doctor," Sunset said. "Or at least, not for me," she added, with a glance at Eve.

"Nor for me," Eve said. "This won't take that long."

"Very well," Doctor Diggory said softly. "Thank you, Mrs. Macready."

"Doctor," Mrs. Macready said, before she took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

Doctor Diggory drew in a deep breath and then exhaled, his chest rising and falling. "So," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"I was going to ask about the dome," Sunset said. "But I don't suppose a botanist would be able to offer much assistance."

"I'm not just a botanist," Doctor Diggory declared. "But I'm afraid none of my specialities give me much insight into mysterious forcefields suddenly engulfing our community." He shook his head. "No, I'm afraid the best advice I can give is practical experimentation."

"Do you think there might be any connection to Miss Pole's condition?" Sunset asked. "One followed hard upon the other, I understand."

"And so did a bout of nightmares amongst the people here, as many of them will tell you; will you hold Miss Pole responsible for that too?" Doctor Diggory demanded. "I may not be an expert in this particular field, or a medical doctor for that matter, but as a scientist, I may say that the comatose find it very difficult to do anything, let alone such things as we have seen."

"I … forgive me, Doctor, I know it sounds absurd when you put it like that," Sunset murmured. "But are you certain there is no connection there?"

Doctor Diggory was silent for a moment. He walked — revealing a limp in the process — across the room, standing over one of his trays of seedlings, casting a shadow over them. "Do you know that poor girl's story, Miss Shimmer?"

"Her parents are away in Vacuo, I understand," Sunset said quietly. "She lives with an aunt."

"An aunt who never asked for the responsibility of a child and does not care to have it thrust upon her," Doctor Diggory said. "Meanwhile, Miss Pole … I fear she feels abandoned, and who could blame her for it? An unhappy girl, it was plain to see, and now … now this. Trapped inside her own mind, no doctor to attend to her, just an old botanist and retired huntsman." He turned around, facing Sunset. "But she is in my charge, and I will do what I can for her. I'm afraid that you must tackle the dome and our imprisonment yourself, Miss Shimmer; my task is here, on that bed. And I am certain that she had nothing to do with any of this."

Sunset bowed her head. "Very well, Doctor. I will leave you to your work. And attend to mine."

She and Eve took their leave of him and of his slumbering patient, leaving the house and emerging out of the front door into the forest.

Into the forest.

Sunset looked around at the village that had been taken over by trees in the short while that they had been inside; they were everywhere, filling every space, clogging up every gap, the streets were gone. There was only grass underfoot, and fallen leaves.

And trees. Plenty of trees. Trees with gnarly branches and twigs that stretched out like grasping fingers, trees that cast long shadows, trees that had sprung from nowhere.

"This wasn't a wood when we went in, was it?" Sunset asked.

"No," Eve replied. "No, it was not."

"Then how—"

Sunset's question was cut off by the sound of a child screaming.

The Dream Maker, Part Three (New)

The Dream Maker, Part Three

“Ditzy?” Trixie called out as she ran through the streets of Arcadia Lake, her cape billowing out behind her. “Ditzy?” She stopped for a moment, looking around. “I swear this island didn’t look so big from the outside.”

“Things do look smaller on the outside,” Starlight observed as she caught up with her team leader. “It’s to do with them being further away.”

“Okay, okay,” Trixie said. “But where could she have gone? Ditzy!?”

“Any idea why she would just take off like that?” Starlight said.

“Why would I know why she would just take off like that?”

“Because you know her,” Starlight said. “You were at combat school together, right?”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t like this,” Trixie replied. “She was … happy fun times.”

“You mean like Pinkie Pie?”

“No, a different kind of happy fun times,” Trixie explained. “Ditzy … always had a smile and a kind word if you were feeling down about something. She wasn’t the kind of person to yell at you to go away.”

“People do change,” Starlight murmured. “Especially when they’ve been through what she has. Losing two of her teammates, I mean … gods, if I lost you and Sunburst, I can’t imagine what would be left of me after that.”

“Nothing,” Trixie said confidently.

“Thanks.”

“There would be nothing left of you,” Trixie said. “Because you’d die yourself before you let any other member of this team. Because you, Starlight Glimmer, are more than just my faithful and glamorous assistant. You are the sea wall of this Tsunami.”

She smiled. “Now come on, we need to find Ditzy; after what she’s been through … maybe she has changed, but after what she’s been through—”

“She needs a friend more than ever, don’t worry, I get it,” Starlight said. “Ditzy?”

They continued to walk through the darkening streets, their eyes scanning left and right, sweeping through the alleyways, searching for any sign of their quarry as the sun set and the sky went dark.

“A friend,” Starlight muttered. “Or a team leader, maybe.”

“You noticed that too, huh?” Trixie asked.

“I noticed a few things, yeah,” Starlight agreed. “Starting with the fact that I don’t see Eve running around the village to make sure that Ditzy’s okay. And I’d cut her some slack on the grounds that she’s in grief, except that I didn’t see very much grief, did you?”

Trixie was silent for a moment. “At first, Trixie has to admit, Trixie appreciated the fact that we were being shown a little … appreciation. Not everyone appreciates Team Tsunami the way that we deserve, so it was nice to think that someone had noticed our prowess in combat class, or recognised our successes on missions. But … but I have to say, if I had lost two members of my team, you wouldn’t find me acting like that.”

“I know; I’ve seen you get more upset when a show didn’t go to plan,” Starlight said.

“Magic is serious business, Starlight, and live performance even moreso,” Trixie declared.

“I’m not judging,” Starlight said. “I’m not judging you, anyway.” She paused. “I get that the battle doesn’t stop for casualties, I get that we need to dig deep and keep moving forward, I get that she’s in the middle of a fight right now and maybe focussing on the mission is helping her cope, but … it just doesn’t seem right to me. She doesn’t seem like someone who is holding it together to finish the mission; she seems like someone who doesn’t care.”

Trixie was silent for a moment. “Maybe she doesn’t,” she suggested. “You don’t have to care about your teammates. You don’t have to be friends with them. You don’t have to like them. You just have to work together. Maybe she’s not shook up because she never liked them anyway. It might make her a bad person, but it doesn’t … make her a bad person, or a bad huntress.”

“Perhaps,” Starlight murmured. “But even if you didn’t like someone to start out with, could you really go through missions in the field and not form some kind of attachment?”

Trixie stopped, and looked over her shoulder at Starlight. “What are you suggesting?”

Starlight hesitated for a moment. “I … I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want her calling the shots if the grimm come back. I don’t know how you and Sunset plan on handling the command situation, but … I don’t want you deferring to Eve. Because there are a lot of unknowns about this situation, and the only certainty is that she started with a four-man team, and now, she’s down to two. Maybe that was unavoidable, maybe the grimm were too strong, maybe she’s unlucky, or maybe she didn’t try hard enough to come up with a plan that would keep her people alive because it was no skin off her nose if half of them came home in body bags, but either way, I’m not going to follow someone like that into battle. And I won’t let you follow someone like that into battle either. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still my leader, and Sunset and Eve can do as they like.”

Trixie stood still and silent for a moment, still turned away from Starlight, the dying red light sparkling off the gold and silver stars that covered her purple cape. She turned around, her cloak furling around her like a flag, and looked up into Starlight’s eyes.

“You follow my instructions,” she said quietly. “Just like always.”

The corners of Starlight’s lips twitched upwards in the slightest smile. “Always.”

“Aww, that’s nice,” said Ditzy.

Trixie whirled around to see Ditzy, or at least a small part of Ditzy’s face, watching them from around the corner of a nearby house.

Trixie put one hand on her hip. “Ditzy.”

“No,” Ditzy said, as those golden eyes disappeared behind the house.

“Ditzy!” Trixie cried, running towards the house in question, Starlight hot upon her heels.

The two of them rounded the corner to find Ditzy still there, although she had backed away a few paces from the corner — and, by extension, from the two of them. Nevertheless, they had caught up with her, and she wasn’t about to get away from them again now.

“Ditzy, what is this about?” Trixie demanded. “Why are you running? It’s me, the Gre— it’s Trixie.”

“I know,” Ditzy said. “Which is why you have to go, while you still can.” She shrunk back, hunching her body over, hugging herself. She looked as though she was about to slide down the wall.

Trixie took a step towards her, while Starlight began to edge slowly around her. They weren’t trying to cut her off, not really. They were just making sure she couldn’t escape again.

Okay, maybe they were trying to cut her off a little bit, but only for her own good.

Both Trixie and Starlight knew that when you were in a hole, for whatever reason, you could use a friend to help you out more than you could use being left alone to stew on things.

“Ditzy,” Trixie murmured. “What’s this about?”

Ditzy turned away, but then glanced back at Trixie anyway. “I always thought you were really cool, you know that? All those tricks, and the way you popped those smoke bombs, the way that you appeared and disappeared like … like magic. And that voice, I thought you had a really cool voice too. You … I always thought you were really cool.”

Trixie tilted her chin upwards a little, and put one hand to her chest, fingers spread out in a five pointed star. “Well, of course you did, because The Grrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie is cool, and you were rrrrright to take notice of it!”

Ditzy smiled, at least a little bit, which was a start. “Yeah. Like that. But most of all … most of all, I thought it was really cool the way that nothing seemed to get to you. Even when people laughed at you, you just kept strutting along, like it didn’t matter. I sometimes wished I could have that kind of confidence.”

Trixie chuckled nervously. “I’m glad it seemed that way,” she muttered. “But I don’t see … you never needed that; everyone always liked you.”

"Did they?" Ditzy asked. "Did they really?"

Trixie hesitated, not sure how to answer. Nobody had really disliked Ditzy — or even kind of disliked Ditzy; nobody had had a bad word to say about her; in that respect, she'd been considerably more fortunate than Trixie herself — but at the same time … Ditzy Doo had been the catch-up girl, the one to make up the numbers when numbers needed to be made up; the one tagging along at the back of the group, running to catch up; the one you called on when you need an extra body because, hey, Ditzy would be up for it, right?

Trixie had used her in the transported man trick a couple of times, and sawn her in half besides, and Ditzy had borne it with a smile, but Trixie… Trixie had walked away when the trick was done.

She'd walked away and left Ditzy behind.

"Ditzy," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

Ditzy shook her head. "It's not about that," she said. "I mean, I just … I wish someone would have stayed, you know?"

"But you want us to go now," Starlight pointed out.

"I don't want you to go," Ditzy replied. "But you have to. You have to get away from me."

"From you?" Starlight repeated. "You're not making any sense."

"I'm the reason my team is gone!" Ditzy yelled, tears springing at the corners of her eyes. "It's my fault. I'm the reason they're not here."

Silence fell amongst the three of them for a moment. Starlight ran one hand through her hair. "Ditzy … sorry, we haven't been properly introduced, have we? I'm Starlight, Starlight Glimmer; I'm Trixie's … teammate, assistant, whatever you want to call it."

"I'm Ditzy Doo," Ditzy whispered. "It would be nice to meet you if things were a little different."

"Likewise," Starlight said. "But Ditzy … in battle, things happen; it doesn't mean that—"

"'Battle'?" Ditzy interrupted. "What are you talking about, Ellie and Nick weren't killed in a battle."

"They weren't?" Starlight asked. "But…" She frowned. "Eve said—"

"Eve said they were gone," Trixie reminded her.

"And when Sunset asked her how the grimm were getting through the dome, she answered," Starlight responded. "If she didn't want us to think that her teammates had been killed by the grimm, that would have been the time to clear things up."

"If it wasn't the grimm, if it wasn't a battle," Trixie said, "what happened to the others, Ditzy?"

"I did!" Ditzy cried. "I … I had these nightmares. They started after we got there, after that little girl went into her coma, after the dome went up. I had nightmares where … where they left me behind. Eve, Ellie, Nick, they left me behind the way that everyone always leaves me behind. And then … and then, after a few nights, when I woke up … they were gone. Ellie and Nick were gone and … and only Eve was still here."

Trixie and Starlight exchanged a glance.

"You think," Starlight began. "You think that your teammates disappeared because you dreamed about it."

"I know it sounds stupid," Ditzy protested. "But weird things happen here, like grimm showing up out of nowhere and then—"

"Disappearing?" Trixie asked.

Ditzy nodded. "You saw it too, didn't you? That's what happened when you arrived."

"I killed that grimm," Starlight said.

"Then why didn't it act like a dying grimm?" Trixie replied. "Why did it focus on Clive?"

"You think Clive was having nightmares about a giant grimm water serpent?" Starlight asked.

"There are worse things to have nightmares about, don't you think?" Trixie replied. Like clowns, for instance.

"That…" Starlight shook her head. "This sounds ridiculous."

"Then where are Ellie and Nick?" Ditzy demanded. "Where have they gone?"

"And where did all these trees come from?" Trixie asked.

She couldn't say exactly when it had happened — it had stolen upon them while they were talking — but at some point, a forest had overtaken the village and the island despite having definitely not been there before.

Ditzy moaned. "It's the night. It's always stronger at night. This must be … you need to leave, before my nightmares make you disappear like they did Nick and Ellie! You need to get as far away from me as you can."

Trixie looked down at her hands. If Ditzy was right — and if she was wrong, then what had happened to her teammates? — then Trixie didn't know what would happen to her. Would she fade away slowly or just vanish in the blink of an eye? What would it feel like, either way? Would she feel anything at all?

Trixie clenched her hands into fists and took a step forward. "I'm not going anywhere," she declared.

Ditzy gaped. "But … but why not?"

Trixie smiled. "Because The Great and Powerful Trixie won't leave you behind. Not this time."

Ditzy blinked rapidly. "Trixie … you … haven't you been listening, you'll … I'll … I—"

"You've been afraid," Starlight said, reaching out to place a hand on Ditzy's shoulder. "I get that. We both do." She smiled. "There's nothing scarier in the whole of Remnant than being alone, is there? Because, when you're not alone, then all the other things that you could or maybe should be scared of … they're all so much less scary when you're with someone else. Even if that someone else is screaming their head off right along with you."

"Or screaming more than you are," Trixie added, a wry, self-deprecating smile crossing her own features also.

"That was you, not me."

"I know, you don't have to tell Ditzy that!"

Starlight ignored that. "The point is, we know what it's like to feel alone, to feel left behind, to feel like no one will ever want to reach out to us. But we're here, right now, reaching out."

Ditzy's mouth trembled. "Why? Why are you saying this when I could … when I could … why aren't you running?"

"Because you are a Canterlot Girl, Ditzy Doo," Trixie declared. "And a Canterlot Girl is never alone."

She paused. "Trixie didn't treat you the way that you deserve, and Trixie's sorry about that, and if Rainbow Dash and the others heard what you'd just said, then they'd be sorry too, and Lyra, and Bon Bon. Trixie thought, I guess we all thought, that because you were always smiling, that meant that you were okay, that you had everything you needed. If we'd known how you really felt, we would have done so much more to show you that you weren't alone, because that's what it means to be a Canterlot Girl. No matter what school you go to or how far away you go, we're all connected, like … like the stars in the sky, that are all joined together by invisible lines to make an awesome picture! Say it with me, Ditzy: I am a Canterlot Girl."

"I am a Canterlot Girl," Ditzy murmured.

"Louder like you mean it!" Trixie insisted. "Come on, Starlight!"

"I didn't—"

"Being a Canterlot Girl is a state of mind!" Trixie declared. "Now come on: I am a Canterlot Girl."

"I am a Canterlot Girl," Ditzy said. Her voice firmed up and ceased to tremble. "I am a Canterlot Girl. I am a Canterlot Girl!"

"Yes, yes, you are," Trixie said, grabbing Ditzy and Starlight and pulling them into a hug. "And you always will be, and because of that, you'll never be alone."

Trixie felt Ditzy's hand upon her back, squeezing her tightly. "You really are great, Trixie."

"Trixie is well aware, and powerful too," Trixie said. "But thank you anyway."

There was a moment of silence, the three of them locked together, arm in arm, before Ditzy said, "Hey, girls?"

"Yeah?" Starlight asked.

"Can we sing that song?" asked Ditzy. "The one that Rainbow and the others had?"

Ordinarily, Trixie would have refused, and vehemently, but these were decidedly not normal circumstances, and so, she said, "Sure. Why not?" She cleared her throat and trilled out a couple of 'aah aah's to set the pitch for the other two. Then, hoping she could remember how that dorky song went, she began to sing:

"You are my Canterlot Girls,

You turn the light switch on,

It brightens up my day, like the sun,

When my friends come a-running,"

Starlight took over.

"You were right all along

That together is always better."

And then Ditzy:

"You could turn a sketch into a masterpiece,

When I'm with you, I feel like I'm complete."

"You are my Canterlot Girls!" they chorused together, before Ditzy broke out in giggles.

"Thanks, girls," she said. "I always wanted someone to do that with." She paused for a moment. "So what do we do now?"

The sound of shooting shattered the darkness.

A child screamed.

Sunset began to run at once, rushing through the wood — it felt more accurate right now to call it a wood than a village, what with the way the ground was covered with grass and twigs and moss and fallen leaves — in the direction that she thought the scream had come from. A nightvision spell upon her eyes enabled her to see better in the dark of the night — with so little light to speak of, the red of the dome had less effect than it had done it daylight, although it cast the moon above in a rather nasty and unpleasant tint — but with so many trees, and the houses remaining in between those trees, it was hard to see what lay between them.

"Hello?" Sunset called. "Hello, can anyone hear me?"

She noticed that Eve wasn't with her — they must have lost each other in the trees — but Sunset kept on running, running in what she hoped was the right direction, running towards the sound of that scream. She darted and dodged around trees; she pushed branches out of the way and ignored the twigs getting stuck in her hair; she leapt over fallen logs and crunched leaves underfoot and hoped that she was going the right way.

The child screamed again, closer now; Sunset ran faster, surer of her destination, and before too long — there! She saw them, a young boy, sitting, back pressed against a tree as though they had scrambled backwards and found that they could scramble no further.

There was a man advancing on him. Not a grimm, not a monster, nothing but a man, a gaunt man with greying hair, wearing a suit but no tie, his hands slightly outstretched, but not ridiculously, held as though he meant to grab the boy towards some end Sunset did not wish to guess at.

But still, nothing but a man.

Sunset teleported the last brief distance between man and boy, interposing herself between the two of them, back to the boy, face to the man, gun to her shoulder.

"That's close enough, I think," she said.

The man stopped, staring at her — or through her? His eyes showed no reaction to her presence, his expression — grim, in a sort of expressionless way, with his mouth downturned and his jaw set — did not alter. He did not act like a man who was suddenly being confronted with a power equal or greater than his own.

He took another step forwards.

Sunset hadn't reloaded since their encounter with the grimm in the water, but she still had three rounds in the cylinder, and she fired all three of them, the loud banging sounds getting lost in the trees as the muzzle of Sol Invictus blazed fire.

The man did not bleed. His chest was not transformed into a bloody ruin as Adam's had been when Sunset had emptied her rifle into his chest from close range. He did not look as if he had been hit at all. But he staggered backwards, his arms spread out as if he were going to fall, and then he disappeared.

"What in Celestia's name?" Sunset murmured.

The grimm had been strange, but after all, grimm did disappear once they were killed, even if they didn't usually disappear quite like that. People, on the other hand, did not disappear when they were killed. They had a bad habit of sticking around. And yet there no was no body. There was no sign that there had ever been a man.

A suspicion began to creep over Sunset, a suspicion which, as of yet, had no proof to back it up, but which would explain everything.

And be bad news besides.

Sunset turned to the boy, still cowering against the tree trunk. She knelt down in front of him, so that she was closer to his own height, and smiled. "It's all right. You're going to be okay now; he's gone. I took care of him."

The boy stared at her, with wide brown eyes. "Are you a superhero?"

Sunset chuckled. "Am I a superhero? No, not quite. I … I'm just doing the best I can." She paused. "My name's Sunset Shimmer; what's your name?"

The boy swallowed. "Grayson," he said.

"Well it is very nice to meet you, Grayson," Sunset said. "But tell me, what's a boy your age doing out in the middle of the night by himself?"

"I don't know," Grayson said. "I want to sleep, and then … then I was here. Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?"

Sunset closed her eyes. "No. No, I'm afraid not. Do you often dream of creepy guys coming to get you in the woods?"

Grayson swallowed. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I got lost in the woods once, and I’ve … I’ve always been scared of them ever since.”

“It’s okay,” Sunset said. “You’re not lost now, you’re…” She trailed off, as the woods around them disappeared, leaving behind only the houses of Arcadia Lake, right where they had always been, only now without all the trees surrounding them. “You’re home,” she said. “Where you’ve always been.”

Grayson’s eyes widened. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sunset?” Starlight Glimmer called out, her voice slicing through the darkness like a slash of her halberd. “Sunset, was that you shooting?”

“Yes!” Sunset cried out. “Yes, I’m over here.”

Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy too, emerged out of the darkness, running towards her.

“There was a forest here a second ago,” Trixie said.

“That’s been taken care of for now,” Sunset replied. To Grayson, she said, “How far away is your home?”

Grayson pointed at a house across the street. “It’s right over there.”

“In you go, then; get inside and stay there, at least for a while,” Sunset instructed him, and watched as he ran in that direction. She kept an eye on him until the door into his house opened up and his startled looking mother received him into her arms. Only when the door closed did Sunset return her attention to the other huntresses. “Have any of you seen Eve? We got separated.”

“No, but I’d like to have a word with her when she turns up again,” Starlight growled.

Sunset didn’t know what that was about and wasn’t sure that she cared at this stage. They could worry about such things later; right now, there were more important issues. “I think I might know what is going on here, at least partially.”

“Nightmares are becoming real?” Trixie suggested.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “How did you—?”

“It’s what happened to my teammates,” Ditzy confessed. “I had a nightmare about them leaving, and … and they were gone.”

Sunset stared at her. “Oh my,” she murmured, inadequate words, totally, painfully, pathetically inadequate, and yet, at the same time, the only ones she could muster. “But … Eve said—”

“That’s what I want to talk to her about,” Starlight said.

Maybe she was just trying to protect Ditzy, Sunset thought. “The point is, I think I know why this is happening, or I might do. I need to speak to Professor Scrub to confirm it.”

“One thing that still doesn’t make sense is why nightmares would cause the dome,” Starlight said.

“Maybe … maybe the dome is someone’s nightmare?” Ditzy suggested.

“Absent the other nightmares, it’s not very scary, is it?” suggested Starlight.

“Being cut off and running out of supplies isn’t scary?” Sunset asked.

“It is, but not in the way that nightmares are,” Starlight replied. “Aren’t nightmares more … visceral?”

“You mean like the fact that we’re underground now?” Ditzy asked, pointing upwards.

Sunset looked up, and so did everyone else. They were, indeed, underground now. The moon was gone, although funnily enough, she could still see the dome sealing off Arcadia Lake from the outside world, only now it was not closing off the sky but the ceiling of the vast cavern in which they stood.

The entire village had been relocated into such a cavern, a place of black rock, where a vast space had been hewn out of the earth and a great city raised underground, where the small and picturesque house of Arcadia Lake nestled in amongst high, monolith-like towers and dark, empty terraces where the doorways gaped like mouths.

Mountain Glenn.

Not quite the real Mountain Glenn, but Mountain Glenn as it existed in Sunset’s nightmares: the ceiling did not gleam with artificial starlight as it had done; no, in her dreams, it was pure black, casting the whole undercity into darkness. And though they were in the underground, nevertheless, some of what Sunset had seen above the surface had made its way down here: the barricades, the rusted cars, the detritus and debris of the battle to hold the city.

The bodies littering the streets.

And the sound of a train, rattling on by, a sound that was constant and inescapable.

“Whose nightmare is this?” Trixie asked

“Mine,” Sunset said. “Sorry about this.”

“If you get the answers that you’re looking for from Professor Scrub,” Starlight said, “will we be able to stop this?”

“I … think so,” Sunset replied. “I hope so.”

She looked down at her hand. She never had gotten around to taking Pyrrha up on that offer to train her semblance.

That seemed like a bit of an oversight now.

I will remedy it … if I am given time.

There was another scream; not a child’s scream, this time, but an adult — man or woman, Sunset could not be sure — but it was coming from somewhere in the village.

“Multiple nightmares at once?” Trixie asked.

Or else it’s getting stronger, Sunset thought. Strong enough that my nightmares are going after more than just myself.

“Starlight, Trixie, Ditzy,” she said, “can you help stave off whatever else there is, protect the village? I think I can stop this, but I need time.”

Trixie smirked. “Consider it done,” she said. “Ditzy Doo, consider yourself an honorary member of the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Team Tsunami!” She raised her hand, holding her long, white wand, up to the sky — or the ceiling — above them. “Like a rrrrraging wave, rrrrroll out!”

Trixie took off, cape flying behind her, holding onto her hat with one hand to keep it from flying off her head. Ditzy kept pace with her easily, but Starlight hesitated for a moment, lingering in place.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then said nothing. She paused for a moment, and then said, “Get it done, okay?”

“I will,” Sunset promised. “Good luck out there.”

Starlight nodded, and then turned away, running after Trixie and Ditzy, catching them both up seemingly with no effort at all.

Sunset turned away from them, turning in the direction of Professor Scrub’s house by the waterfront, by what had been the waterfront.

She drew Soteria. The blade, black as the night, was almost invisible, she could feel the hilt of it in her hands, but she could barely see it held before her — until she touched her gloved fingertips to the cold blade and, with a touch of her aura, ignited the fire dust.

The fire swept up and down the sword, igniting like a torch, a light for her in dark places.

And this was surely the darkest place that she would ever go.

“Sunset?”

Sunset gasped. The voice was faint, weak, little more than a mere croak, but at the same time, it was quite unmistakable.

Pyrrha lay in the gap between two nearby houses. Miló lay in shattered fragments in front of her, Akoúo̱ was bent and battered and deformed out of its proper shape, mauled by bitemarks as if the beowolves had used it as a frisbee; her red hair was unbound and fell across her body, the red of her hair mingling with the angry red wounds that marred her fair skin.

“Pyrrha,” Sunset whispered, her chest rising and falling as her breathing became shallower and more frantic. “Pyrrha, no.”

They had ripped through her corset-cuirass, tearing through the leather and exposing — and gashing — her skin underneath; her gloves were torn, her greaves were missing, one of her feet … there was a trail of blood leading away from where her foot should have been.

Only her circlet remained intact, unstained by blood, an incongruously pure note amidst so much tarnish.

But even the circlet was dimmed; no light reflected off it; it did not shine as it once had.

The Evenstar had ceased to burn.

Pyrrha’s eyes were large, and tears filled the corners of them as, with one bloody hand, she reached for Sunset. “Sunset … please … help me.”

Sunset took a step towards her. Yes, she would help; of course, she would help; she would do whatever she could; she would…

She would do what?

Sunset stopped, shaking her head. “No. No, you’re not here; you’re not real; this is just a part of the nightmare!”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha pleaded, her voice trembled. “Sunset. Please. I need you.”

“I’m sorry,” Sunset whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She turned and ran, leaving Pyrrha behind as she ran towards Professor Scrub’s house.

That wasn’t really Pyrrha. That wasn’t really Pyrrha. Pyrrha is safe and sound at Beacon, and I have to solve all of this if I want to get back to her, to all of them.

She ran on, through the streets of Arcadia Lake, through the streets of Mountain Glenn, her burning sword held before her.

The beowolves began to howl, their howls echoing off the dome, echoing off the ceiling of the cavernous city, echoing off the buildings all around her. A few of them tried to intercept her, but Sunset cut them all down with swift strokes of her flaming sword. She cut them down, and she ran on, her feet pounding upon the dark stone.

And then she saw him.

She saw his sword first, a red sword, as red as the dome that held them prisoner, as red as blood, red like roses, red like death. A red sword, glowing in the darkness. A red sword in the hand of a man with burning red hair and red lines like scars upon his mask.

Sunset slowed and skidded to a halt as Adam Taurus stood before her.

“No,” Sunset whispered, as her hands began to shake. “No. I killed you. I killed you!”

“Yet here I am,” Adam replied. “You’re a little late to save your friends.”

Sunset’s eyes widened as she saw … she didn’t know whether they had always been here and she hadn’t noticed or whether the nightmare had only just conjured them for her now, but there they were: Blake and Rainbow Dash.

Blake was sitting against the wall of a house, nursing a wound to her stomach, her hand and belly alike covered in blood, staining her waistcoat, overflowing her efforts to staunch it. Her eyes looked weary, as if she could hardly stay awake.

Rainbow Dash lay under Adam’s foot, which was planted upon her chest. There was blood around her mouth, and her arms — spread out on either side of her — were unmoving.

She scowled, her mouth twisting into a snarl. She let out a wordless growl, before she cried out, “All glory to the Kingdom of—”

Adam’s sword swept down and silenced her in a single stroke, a splash of blood.

Blake made a choking sound, as if she wished to or were trying to weep but could not. Sunset gasped. She knew that it wasn’t real, she knew that Rainbow wasn’t really dead, but … but to see it so … it shook her nonetheless.

Adam looked back at Sunset and pointed at her with his sword that was all the redder for being stained with Rainbow’s lifeblood.

That sword, Sunset knew, would bite no less sharply than before for being sprung out of her nightmares.

Nevertheless, she raised Soteria. “Come then.”

Adam was still for a moment, a wicked grin as sharp as his sword etched upon his features. Then he attacked, his red blade swinging.

Sunset parried his first stroke with Soteria, but he was so strong — had he been this strong in life and she had forgotten, or was he stronger because he was a figure of her nightmares? — that the force of his blow jarred her, forcing her back. Adam drew back, then slashed at her again. Sunset turned the blow aside and countered with a downward stroke, but he parried that and turned her blade aside in turn.

It left her open, Soteria out of place, her guard broken. He swiped at her faster than she could bring her sword to parry, but Sunset teleported backwards a few feet, putting distance between the two of them. She raised her hand, magic gathering in her palm, but he was faster than she was and raised his scabbard to snap a shot at her. The bullet struck her in the chest, knocking her back, denting her aura. Sunset was hurled back, onto her back, landing heavily upon the road. She rolled to her feet, blasting a bolt of magic at him, but he blocked it with his sword, which absorbed the energy and began to burn an even brighter red in consequence.

Adam charged towards her. Sunset rose to her feet to meet him, sword in hand. They met, blades ringing, the black sword wreathed in fire clashing with the red sword stained with blood as they met in a dance of slash and parry, thrust and counterthrust. Sunset was driven backwards, struggling to hold her own, feeling the hideous strength that he possessed reverberating into her bones every time she blocked a stroke of his, feeling the margin by which she was fending him off getting smaller with every parry.

She had dreamed of this, night after night, longer even than she had dreamed of Mountain Glenn. He was beating her, as she had always dreamed him beating her. She hadn’t been his equal in life; she was certainly no match for him now he was dead.

And the smile on his face told her that he knew it, too.

He hacked down her. She parried. He shot her twice with the gun of his scabbard, hitting her in the gut. Sunset staggered back; she would have doubled over were it not for her cuirass, but she left herself open to him nonetheless. He smacked her across the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking her over. Sunset scrambled backwards away from him.

Adam advanced upon her, his sword looking almost like a hungry tongue, eager to devour her.

He was still smiling as he raised the blade.

There was a blur of motion as something — someone — slammed into Adam from the side, decking him across the jaw hard enough to hurl him across the street, sending him rolling along the black, rugged ground of Mountain Glenn. The red sword flew from his hand, skittering across the surface of the underground. They both lay where they stopped, each as silent as the other.

“Hey, Sunset,” Ditzy said. “Are you okay?”

“Ditzy?” Sunset asked as she scrambled up onto her feet. “What are you doing here? You went with Trixie and Starlight.”

“Yeah,” Ditzy agreed. “But then I thought that maybe you could use some help, seeing as how this is your nightmare and all.”

Sunset let out a breath. “You weren’t wrong about that,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Ditzy said. “After all, you’re a Canterlot Girl too, right?”

Sunset was forestalled in any answer by Adam getting to his feet and recovering his sword.

Ditzy took a step forward, her hands up and fists balled. “Go on, Sunset,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

Sunset hesitated. “You want me to leave you by yourself?”

Adam charged, aiming at Sunset, his blade still shining. Ditzy got in his way. Adam struck at her — the nightmares were definitely growing more powerful; Grayson’s anonymous molester had hardly seemed to notice that Sunset was there, and Clive’s grimm had been just the same — his blade slashing in a wide stroke that would have sliced clean through an oak of many years. But as he slashed, Ditzy leapt up, kicking off the ground, her body twisting in the air with astonishing grace and suppleness of movement, and as the sword swept beneath her, she kicked Adam in the head hard enough to send him flying into the nearest wall.

“Go on, Sunset, take care of the problem,” Ditzy urged. “I’ve got this!”

Sunset hesitated just a moment more; then, as Adam staggered forwards, she made a break for it.

She could see Adam rushing for her, she saw Ditzy charging to meet him like a rival stag in the forest.

And then she saw nothing more as she left them both behind.

Sunset ran all the way to Professor Scrub’s house, and pounded upon the door with one fist.

“Professor!” she yelled.

There was no response.

Sunset bared her teeth, her equine ears pressing down into her hair as she banged on the door some more. “Professor Scrub, open this door, or I will blast it down!”

The door opened, although it was on its chain so it didn’t open that far. Professor Scrub peered at her through the crack in the door. “There’s no need to be like that, my dear, I’m sure,” he said.

Sunset glared at him. “Open this door.”

“Why should I?”

Sunset shoved the door hard enough that the chain snapped and the door itself flew open, sending Professor Scrub staggering backwards into the hallway of his house.

Sunset strode in, leaving the door swinging on his hinges.

“N-now look here—” Professor Scrub began.

“If you look out of that doorway, Professor, you will see that this village is currently being engulfed by nightmares,” Sunset informed him.

“'Nightmares'?” Professor Scrub repeated, in his rich, plum, fruity voice. He peered around Sunset, out into the village — and the undercity of Mountain Glenn with which it was merged. “My word, what are all those…?” He walked around Sunset, which she allowed, until he could see sufficiently far out of his house to see the cavernous ceiling that enclosed the world. “Goodness … where … where in Remnant—?”

“Mountain Glenn,” Sunset said.

Professor Scrub was a pale man, his complexion pasty from spending too much time indoors, but nevertheless, he paled visibly upon hearing that they were stuck in the scene of one of the greatest tragedies of the modern era.

“Now,” Sunset said, “I think I know why nightmares are coming to life in Arcadia Lake, or at least I think I know what’s causing it. I think it’s a creature called a tantabus. I think that it’s taken root in Miss Pole’s mind, and that’s why she’s been in a coma. But what I don’t know is how a tantabus, which is not native to Remnant, got here. So I’m going to ask you, Professor, and this time, I’d like you to give me an honest answer: what has been going on in this house?”

Professor Scrub was silent for a moment, staring into Sunset’s eyes without speaking.

Sunset took a step towards him.

“All right, all right,” Professor Scrub declared, holding up one hand as if he were afraid she were going to hit him — she wasn’t; she was a gentlemare, after all, but it was no bad thing if he thought she might. “Alright, I … I’ll tell you everything. It’s … well, let’s just say that at this point, I could probably use your help in any case.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “My help?”

“Come with me,” Professor Scrub said as he sidled past her — very carefully and with anxiety in his eyes — and led her through his kitchen and into a study, or a sitting room, or some combination of the two.

It was very dark, but Sunset could make out two walls lined with bookshelves, said shelves groaned with old leatherbound books with their titles in gold, and the other two walls with tables pressed against them. Upon the tables sat some cages with guinea pigs in them, as well as some more cages which were devoid of guinea pigs, or anything else for that matter; there was a microscope, a computer, and a wooden tray. The tray was of a very dark wood, which lent it a certain impression of age and antiquity, and upon the tray rested several pairs of rings which glowed in the darkness and provided a source of light in the otherwise dimly lit room. Each pair of rings consisted of a yellow ring and a green one, the lights from each ring mingling together as they illuminated their particular corner of the room.

Professor Scrub sank into an armchair near the door, clasping his hands together. “You know the truth, don’t you, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset folded her arms. “I know many things, Professor, and some of them might be called true.”

“The truth,” Professor Scrub insisted. “That Remnant is not the only world to exist. That there are other worlds out there, waiting for us.”

Sunset swallowed. “I … am aware of that, yes. Though I must confess I am surprised that you are.”

Professor Scrub smiled. “My great-grandmother was a remarkable woman. That’s her portrait on the wall over there.”

Sunset looked. On the wall, above the rings, illuminated by their glow, there was a portrait in a gilded frame, a portrait of a woman, a faunus with equine ears and hair of mixed turquoise and green bound up in a severe bun, with eyes of emerald which stared out of the portrait.

“A faunus?” she asked.

“I cut my tail regularly,” Professor Scrub explained. “Something of a family tradition. Not that we’re ashamed of what we are, but … why be less than you can be more? In any case, my great-grandmother. People thought she was mad. My own family didn’t like me seeing her, but as she was dying, she confessed the truth to me: that she had come into this world from another place altogether.”

“Equestria,” Sunset murmured.

She had never thought about the possibility of anyone … well she hadn’t really thought much about visitors to Remnant from Equestria before her, although Professor Ozpin had broached the subject — and done so with an inordinate degree of familiarity in his tone, now that she thought about it, as though his experience were personal, rather than coming from the accounts of his predecessors — but only in terms of monsters and criminals. She had never really thought about ponies, ordinary ponies, crossing from Equestria into Remnant. She had especially not thought about them raising families, although now it seemed obvious that it could have happened. It had happened, apparently, and Professor Scrub was the result.

“Exactly!” Professor Scrub exclaimed. “You are initiated, aren’t you, Miss Shimmer?” His eyes widened. “Or is it that you come from Equestria yourself, just as my great-grandmother did?”

“Professor, I don’t have time for—”

“You must tell me everything; how did you get here, was it an accident, what is it like? I have so many questions—”

“Professor!” Sunset barked. “This is hardly the time! Focus, if you will.”

Professor Scrub shrank back in his chair. “Yes. Yes, of course. Focus. Focus. My … my great-grandmother told me that she had accidentally found her way from her own world into ours and been unable to find her way back. After a few years of searching, she gave up on ever returning to Equestria, married my great-grandfather, and settled down to have children, including my grandfather, none of whom particularly wanted to hear about other worlds or magic or anything like that. As she was dying, my great-grandmother gave me a wooden box; I could feel by the pricking of my fingers that there was something special about it, something extraordinary. She asked me to burn it, unopened. She made me promise to do so.”

“But you didn’t,” Sunset guessed.

“Of course not!” Professor Scrub exclaimed. “For all I knew, this was probably a relic from her own land, wood from this place, Equestria. And besides, promises are excellent things for little boys and girls to keep, but great thinkers like myself are no more bound by the common rules of conduct than we are permitted the common pleasures of the world.” He sighed. “Ours is a high and lonely destiny.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Get to the point, Professor.”

“The point, Miss Shimmer, is that I devoted myself to the study of magic,” Professor Scrub declared. “Since you are so impatient, I will not explain to you all of the texts that I read, the fields into which I delved, the places that I visited or the … torments which I suffered.” He shuddered. “Suffice to say that, by the time I dared to open the box that my great-grandmother had given me, I was already a rather knowledgeable theoretical magician.”

“And what did you find in the box?” Sunset asked.

“Dust,” Professor Scrub replied. “Fine dust. Dust, I believe, that my great-grandmother brought with her from Equestria.”

Sunset frowned. Something about this story did not quite add up. Why would any pony be carrying a box of dirt around with them when they happened to ‘accidentally’ end up in another world? How did one accidentally end up in another world, in any case?

Nevertheless, she believed that Professor Scrub was telling her what had been told to him; he knew about Equestria from somewhere, after all, and it wouldn’t make sense for him to admit that but to lie about details.

Especially since parts of the story didn’t exactly paint him in the best light.

“What did you do with the dust?” she asked.

“I used it,” Professor Scrub replied. “I thought that it must be possible to make use of this dust that had come from another world to go to that other world, to find out what it was like, where my family had come from. I experimented on those guinea pigs. Some of them died, the others … well, let’s just say my early experiments were unsuccessful until, finally, I was able to craft … the rings. The yellow rings will take you to Equestria, I believe, and then, after pondering the question of how to get back again, I devised a way of doing that as well: the green rings will draw you back. Of course, a man in my time of life, in my state of health, it would be absolutely preposterous for me to travel to another world, to risk the hazards. After all, you might meet anything there. Anything!”

“So you sent your nephew and his friend instead,” Sunset said as the pieces fell into place in her mind.

“They were very enthusiastic!” Professor Scrub insisted. “Miss Pole especially. She set off first, without even waiting for Malmsey. You see, I wasn’t lying when I told you that I didn’t know what had come over her. I wasn’t there. Malmsey told me that by the time he found her, she was already asleep and wouldn’t wake. He brought her back with him … and apparently, something else came back as well, but I had no idea, I swear. I never wanted this! I only wanted to know! I only wanted my birthright!”

“Your birthright?” Sunset repeated. She shook her head in disgust. “If you wanted your birthright, you should have gone to fetch it yourself.”

She looked at the rings, glowing in the tray upon the table. She wondered if she ought to destroy them all. Almost certainly, she ought to destroy them all. Passage to Equestria was precious, too precious to be left in the hands of a man like Professor Scrub.

And yet … there was a temptation there. A temptation not to destroy them. A temptation to keep at least one pair for herself. Wouldn’t it be grand, not to be bound by the mirror in Canterlot, to be free to come and go as she pleased? She could go home on weekends, have tea with Princess Celestia in the palace, and then be back home in time to do her homework ready for Monday morning. She could visit Twilight Sparkle and help her with her problems as Twilight had helped Sunset with her own. She could show up when Equestria needed her, during the periodic crises that seemed to menace them. She could … she could go home. She could go home without ever leaving Beacon or her friends behind.

She could have the very best of both worlds.

A blessing she was not worthy of.

A gift she desired more than anything.

Sunset turned away, neither destroying nor taking the rings, leaving them until she was in a clearer state of mind. She had a job to do right now. She was now more convinced than ever that Plum Pole had somehow encountered a tantabus in Equestria; it must have been a strong tantabus already to have been out and about, to enter someone’s mind like that, but it had done so, and it had travelled back here with its host, and it was already strong enough to affect the waking world. If it got much stronger, it would no longer need a host; it would break free and turn all of Remnant into a living nightmare.

She had to stop it.

“Thank you, Professor; you’ve been very helpful,” Sunset said. She began to leave.

“Wait!” Professor Scrub cried. “You can’t go yet; I told you, I need your help.”

Sunset looked over her shoulder. “With what?” she demanded.

“Malmsey felt so very guilty over what happened to Miss Pole, he’s been travelling back and forth for days trying to find a cure for her condition,” Professor Scrub explained. “After all, if her ailment came from out of this world, then why shouldn’t a cure be found there too?”

“Because a tantabus is not a disease; there is no cure,” Sunset said. “Your nephew has better intentions than you, it seems, but when he returns, tell him that he’s wasting his time.”

“But that’s just it, you see,” Professor Scrub said. “Malmsey is well overdue for his return. I’m beginning to fear he may have gotten into a spot of difficulty.”

The Dream Maker, Part Four (New)

The Dream Maker, Part Four

The basement where he worked was somewhat insulated from the sounds of the outside world, so the first that Doctor Diggory knew of the commotion going on outside was the sound of Mrs. Macready’s footsteps running rapidly down the stairs and short corridor towards his laboratory.

Diggory had already gotten to his feet and was moving as quickly as his injury would allow towards the door when said door burst open.

Mrs. Macready stood in the doorway, panting a little and rather pale to look at. “Doctor … Doctor, you must come and see this. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my years.”

Diggory pushed his spectacles up his nose a little. “Mrs. Macready, I’m afraid that we’ve all seen things the like of which we’d never seen before recently.”

“This is worse,” Mrs. Macready insisted. “Please, Doctor Diggory, you must come and see.”

“Of course,” Diggory said. “Lead the way — and please, try and calm down, Mrs. Macready; I’m sure it can’t possibly be as bad as all that.”

“If you say so, Doctor, and I very much hope you’re right,” Mrs. Macready said.

She led him out of the basement, up the stairs — he climbed them as swiftly as he could and tried not to wince at the pain in his leg — and into the hallway, to where she had uncharacteristically left the front door open.

The door being open, Diggory had only to walk to the door and stand in the doorway to see out into the village.

The village that had become a part of Mountain Glenn.

As a somewhat younger man, Diggory had not fought in the undercity — and as well for him that it were so, else he would not stand here now; he would have been trapped and died with all the other poor souls buried down there, no doubt — he had fought above ground, to try and stem the tide of grimm as they overran the defences and, when it was clear that the tide could not be stemmed, to try and protect those who could not or would not make it underground as they sought to escape by land or air. And yet, he had visited the underground parts of the city, before it fell; nobody could go to Mountain Glenn and not visit the undercity; it was, in many ways, the jewel of the kingdom, something that no other kingdom, not even advanced and mighty Atlas, had ever attempted before: to hollow out the earth and build a city there, a complete city, a city that could endure and sustain itself, even if the overcity above it should fall. A city possessed of all the things that made a city: power, water, entertainment, homes big and small, shopping, business. He had gone for a swim in the geothermally-heated public baths; he had marvelled at the glimmering ceiling, the artificial night sky that had been set into the rock; he had gone to see a rather unimpressive romantic comedy and left before the end credits, but even though the picture had left him cold, the fact that he had been watching it deep underground had impressed him very much.

He had doubted it had impressed those poor souls who had died there, trapped beneath the surface, abandoned, quite so much, however.

This was the underground city. It had appeared, here in Arcadia Lake, swallowing up the village whole. There was the ceiling, separated from them by the dome, but at the same time, unmistakable. And yet, at the same time, there were the things that Diggory recognised from his own battle above the surface: the barricades that they had erected, the lines of cars and buses turned side on to block the roads, the tall barriers of corrugated iron and wood and brick with which they had sought to stop the grimm in their tracks. He remembered those things as though they were yesterday, the futile measures they had adopted when the walls fell.

They haunted his dreams, and no doubt, they always would.

And so would the howling of the beowolves, sounding … not far off, per se, but from the edges of the village. They would soon doubtless be moving inwards.

With good fortune, the people of Arcadia Lake, his neighbours, would be moving ahead of them.

Diggory closed his eyes for a moment. He had hoped that such a sight as this would remain in his dreams. He had hoped that his days of battle were behind him. He had hoped that in Arcadia Lake, he would find peace, to potter about his house and attend to his plants and to his experiments.

It seemed that it was not to be.

Very well then. Only one thing for it, I suppose.

Not that an old man like me will be of much use — I hope those young ladies are alright; no doubt, they’re attending to things even now, but I hope they remember to take care of themselves as well as the village — but one must do what one can in times like these.

“Mrs. Macready,” he said, “may I ask you to go into the kitchen and start making some tea and sandwiches?”

“Tea and sandwiches, Doctor?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the fillings,” Diggory said. “Whatever we have in the cupboards will do. Tuna, ham, salmon, cheese; even jam would probably be welcome.”

“Doctor,” Mrs. Macready said. “I don’t understand.”

“I suspect — I hope —” Diggory replied, “— that a great many people will be coming this way soon. They’ll be frightened and shaken, and we must make room for them, and we must take care of them.” He offered his housekeeper an apologetic smile. “By which, I’m afraid, I mean you, Mrs. Macready. I’m sorry to impose on such short notice.”

Mrs. Macready stared at him for a moment. Then she swallowed. “Tea. And sandwiches. Right you are, Doctor; I’ll get started right away.” She turned away, but paused for a moment to ask, “And you, Doctor?”

“I … I will wait outside,” Diggory said. “And welcome our guests, of every sort.”

First, however, he climbed the stairs — forcing himself to walk faster than his leg made comfortable — and into his bedroom. He ignored the bed, of course, and what little else he had there that was not strictly functional — mainly class photos from his time as a professor at Beacon — as he walked across the room to retrieve Weedkiller from off the wall.

His weapon was a garden fork, or so it seemed to the eye from where it sat, hung on the wall; it was entirely made of metal, the four prongs of the fork and the shaft and handle. It was dusty, but rust hadn’t gotten to the metal, and it was perfectly functional.

Diggory hoped so, anyway, as he reverently lifted it from his place and held it in his hands.

He had not done so for many years now, not since Mountain Glenn fell and he had decided that the huntsman’s life was no longer for him. So he had come here, purchased this house, and hung up Weedkiller for good.

Until Mountain Glenn had found him again.

It had been many years, but he still found the button on the side of the shaft as instinctively as he had when he had been using this weapon every day. He pushed the button, and Weedkiller transformed in his hands, rearranging itself with a series of clicks and clacks into a blunderbuss with a great gaping mouth like a horn.

Diggory hobbled over to the bedside table, and felt his back protest as he bent down to open the bottom drawer of the bedside cabinet. There was a box of ammunition down there, old but not expired.

He supposed the fact that he had brought ammunition meant that he had never quite put aside the possibility that he would need Weedkiller again.

He loaded his weapon and stuffed his jacket pockets with as much of the rest as they would hold.

Then he walked downstairs, feeling the pain in his leg with every step he took, and walked out of the house to stand in front of it, Weedkiller raised to his shoulder, waiting.

With his leg, he could hardly go gallivanting into the village itself, to try and rescue people in the confusion. He was a few years too old for that. He would have to rely on the young ladies for it. All that he could do was wait, welcome anyone who wished to take refuge in his home, and make his stand if any grimm came so close.

He did not know what had brought Mountain Glenn here, but he sincerely hoped that this retelling of the story had a happier ending than the original.

Starlight pressed the stock of Equaliser into her shoulder and snapped off three shots in quick succession, three blue bolts leaping from the barrel to slam into three of the beowolves rushing towards her.

There were more of them, of course. There were always more of them. They just kept on coming, made worse by the fact that Starlight couldn’t even work out where they were coming from.

Or rather, she could; it was just that the answer was ‘they’re not coming from anywhere because they’re not real, they’re nightmares brought to life, and they’re just showing up like waves of bad guys spawning in a video game.’

She kind of didn’t want to think too hard about that, in the same way that she didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that she’d seen Blake’s dead body at least three times — in different poses, too — out of the corner of her eye since this fight started; knowing that this Sunset’s nightmare … it was understandable, but at the same time, Starlight couldn’t help but think that it was kind of messed up.

But Starlight didn’t want to think too hard about that kind of thing. She wasn’t averse to thinking, but in this particular circumstance, it was better to focus on what was right in front of her. Nightmare or not, Mountain Glenn or not, whatever strange and extraordinary things were going on here, she still had a horde of grimm in front of her, a village full of civilians behind her, and the job of standing between one and the other.

That was a simple mission, a huntress mission, the kind of thing that she’d started training to be a huntress for in the first place.

In the circumstances, everything else could wait.

As more beowolves charged at her, Starlight spread fire in a wide arc, squeezing the trigger again and again, snapping off shot after shot, bolt after bolt slamming into beowolf after beowolf. They did not turn to smoke and ash, they disappeared like that serpent grimm had on the lake, but they were gone, which was good enough for Starlight right now.

She fired two more shots and took down two more beowolves with unerring accuracy.

As a large cluster of them rushed her, pounding down the dark street in a dense multitude, their bone spikes tinted red thanks to the dome above, Starlight pulled her last grenade from her belt.

It was a cylinder, with a red trigger on top. Starlight pressed down on the trigger once with her thumb to arm it, then held onto it.

One, two, three. “Fire in the hole!” Starlight shouted, as she flung the grenade at the onrushing beowolves.

The grenade soared through the air towards the pack of grimm, exploding just in front of the face of the lead grimm. There was a great ball of fire, an explosion that blinded Starlight for a moment and obscured the sight of everything behind the flames, just as the sound of the bang obscured all other sounds.

Then the flames cleared, and a much diminished group of beowolves walked through the dying embers, looking this way and that, no longer certain of where their quarry lay.

Starlight, who hadn’t moved a single step, gunned them down with more well-placed shots from Equaliser.

She checked the battery on her rifle; it was getting kind of low, forty-eight percent power. She ejected it, swapping it out for a fresh pack. If she had to, she’d come back to the half-depleted battery if she had no other choice, but she was hoping this battle would be drawn to a close by then.

If only she could have been sure that the grimm would eventually run out of numbers.

More beowolves emerged out of the darkness — or should that have been ‘more beowolves appeared’? — to run towards her, but they were distracted by the sight of Tempest Shadow dashing across the village, skidding to a halt right in their path.

The grimm stopped, staring down at the huntress who had suddenly thrown herself athwart their progress.

Tempest stared back at them silently, her Mohawk like the crest of a helmet, her staff held in one hand, her prosthetic hand clenched into a fist.

The beowolves began to encircle her, growling and snarling.

Tempest made a run for it; still, not a sound emerged from her lips — nor anywhere else either; she ran without making any noise at all — as she ran, moving not backwards towards Starlight but sideways, in the direction she had been moving before.

The grimm gave chase, ignoring the way that Starlight’s fire raked the flank of the pack as they turned; they followed Tempest with a single minded determination, pursuing her down a blind alley where, silent still, she turned at bay.

The beowolves bore down upon her.

And Tempest Shadow disappeared as though she had never been.

Because she never had been here in any case.

The beowolves stopped, coming to a ragged halt, growling and snarling in surprise.

They barely had time to look up before they were caught in the inferno that erupted from Trixie’s wand as, from her vantage point on the roof of one of the houses backing onto the alley, she rained fire down upon them all.

And, if she did not quite turn them to ashes, she did at least get rid of them all.

Trixie — who had created the illusion of Tempest Shadow using her semblance, Misdirection — ran one hand along the rim of her hat, before throwing out her arm in a dramatic gesture. “Gets ‘em every time,” she declared.

No sooner had she said that then even more grimm appeared, charging out of the netherwhere from which they spawned to bear down upon the huntresses.

Trixie leapt up into the air, a flying leap that carried her off the roof and in the direction of Starlight Glimmer. Her cape billowed out behind her, and though there was no light to reflect off the gold and silver stars, nevertheless, they seemed to glow regardless as she hung, suspended in the air, and hurled down ice dust crystals upon the beowolves beneath.

The crystals burst as they struck the ground, blossoming like flowers into explosions of ice, great spikes of ice in complex patterns blooming forth to eliminate all the nightmare beowolves that they caught around them as they burst.

Trixie landed nimbly upon her booted feet, straightening her cape out with one hand.

“Nice work,” Starlight said. “How are you fixed for dust?”

Trixie winced. “Trixie will be fine.”

Starlight glanced at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Trixie assured her. “Trixie thinks so, anyway. You?”

“I’m okay for power packs at the moment,” Starlight said. “But I did just use up my last grenade.”

“Catch.”

Starlight half turned to catch the grenade one handed. “Where did you—?”

Trixie held up her hat.

Starlight shook her head. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a rotary autocannon or a cruiser in there, have you?”

“It’s magic, Starlight, not miracles,” Trixie said. “Besides, what need do you have of a warship when you have the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrixie?”

Starlight grinned. “A great question,” she said. “In every sense.”

Trixie chuckled. “Hey, Starlight?”

“Yeah?”

“You notice that there haven’t been any more grimm since I took out those beowolves?”

“Now that you point it out,” Starlight murmured. “Maybe they’ve run out?”

“Of nightmares?”

“We can hope,” Starlight said.

Or maybe this is like a videogame, and we’re going to get some more powerful grimm in the next wave.

Five ursai emerged out of the darkness and started lumbering towards them, making the ground shake with their tread.

You had to think it, didn’t you?

Starlight fired at them, but these were big ursai — if not full ursa major, then pretty close to it, with bone plates armouring them and spikes of bone protruding from out of their bodies — and the blue bolts of Equaliser either bounced off their bony armour or else seemed to just be absorbed by the black flesh of the grimm.

Trixie whimpered.

“Trixie?” Starlight asked, continuing to fire even as she risked a glance at Trixie.

Her team leader’s body was trembling, most notably her hand; it looked as though she were about to drop her wand, while she was mumbling something so quietly and so quickly that Starlight couldn’t make out the words.

“Trixie!” Starlight cried. “Snap out of it!”

Trixie raised her wand in her trembling hand, but although Starlight hadn’t seen Trixie swap out the fire dust cartridge for lightning dust, it was lightning that sparked at the tip of the wand.

Only sparked, no lightning erupted out of lash at the grimm; it just sparked on the tip of Trixie’s wand and then fizzled out as though it were out of dust or broken.

“Trixie, fall back!” Starlight yelled. She fired five more shots, which did no more good than before. She considered using the grenade, but wasn’t sure how much good it would do against such large grimm.

She reformed Equaliser from gun mode into glaive, taking a step forward, putting herself between Trixie and the ursai.

“Maybe I can’t shoot you,” Starlight growled. “But let’s see if I can’t cut you down.”

The ursai closed in on her.

Starlight heard the sounds of running footsteps behind her, heard a wordless, high-pitched battle cry, saw a flash of light which resolved itself into Ditzy, fist drawn back to slam into the face of the leading ursa with a punch hard enough that the ursa simply disappeared from view.

Ditzy landed on the ground, offering Starlight a grin and a cheery wave. “Hey, girls, sorry I’m late. I had to—” Her words were cut off as an ursa swiped at her with its paw. She leapt over the onrushing claws, landing upon the paw itself and dashing along it to deal a one-two punch to the ursa at the end and knock it onto its back.

Starlight charged forward to her aid, silent save for the thudding of her boots upon the road’s surface as she closed the little remaining distance with the surviving ursai.

As an ursa reared up onto its hind legs, Starlight sliced clean through its midriff with the glowing blade of her polearm. She pulled the trigger, and a beam of energy leapt from the blade which she used to eviscerate a second ursa with the same continuous slashing stroke.

Two more punches from Ditzy finished off the grimm she’d already put on the ground, and when the last one tried to bring its paw down upon her, she leapt up, doing a backflip as she went, and brought her foot down upon its head instead.

It was gone before she landed.

“Thanks for the help,” Starlight said.

“It was nothing,” Ditzy said. “I’m sure you would have handled it. Are you okay, Trixie?”

“I … am now, more or less,” Trixie muttered. “I … had a bad experience with an ursa once. I was cocky, and I ran out of dust, and I … almost died.”

“So then … that was your nightmare,” Ditzy said.

Trixie was silent for a moment. “I guess so,” she admitted. “In that case, I’m glad it’s over with, provided they don’t come back around again.”

Starlight glanced in the direction from which the grimm approached, but fate was not so unkind to them at this time.

“It’s okay,” Ditzy said. “We all have to help one another out, right? I was late because I was helping out Sunset. It took me a little bit to take care of. She’s got some scary nightmares.”

“Do we want to know?” Starlight asked.

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” Ditzy replied. “Oh! But I can tell you I ran into the sheriff on the way here, and he told me to tell you that the next couple of streets have been evacuated!”

“Great,” Starlight declared. Everyone was evacuating towards Doctor Diggory’s house in the centre of town. “Trixie, are you up to doing the honours?”

“Of course Trixie is up to it!” Trixie snapped as she swapped out the fire dust cartridge in her wand for a blue ice dust cartridge.

She strode forwards, cloak flapping behind her, until she was just ahead of Starlight and Ditzy. Trixie waved her wand, flourishing with her wrist as she did so, sweeping it before her, and as she did so, a wall of ice rose up in front of the three huntresses, bursting out of the ground to reach towards the crimson dome that held them captive.

“That ought to hold them for a little while,” Trixie said.

“Yeah,” Starlight agreed. “For a while.”

And so they fell back to the next position.

To await the next attack.

Sunset was silent for a moment as she took in what Professor Scrub was asking of her. Clearly, he wasn’t going to go to Equestria — or anywhere else — himself to look for his nephew. Oh, no. That would be too much for a man of his years and state of health. No, he expected Sunset to do it. With nightmares engulfing the village and a tantabus growing stronger, he expected Sunset to disappear for a little bit, pop over to another world, and rescue a stray boy.

Well, Sunset was going to … possibly do just that.

She was tempted to tell him no. If he was worried about his nephew, then good! It might teach him a little forethought and consideration in future if he had to stew in his nerves for a bit. Meanwhile, it wasn’t as though anything bad was going to happen to Malmsey while he was in Equestria. He was in Equestria, for crying out loud! When Sunset had sorted out everything else here and gotten back to Beacon, she’d write to Princess Celestia and ask for the boy to be looked out for — and looked after when he was found. He could visit the princess, he could visit all the princesses; he could see Canterlot, he could be taken to Cloudsdale, he could watch a Wonderbolt race, he could experience all that pony life had to offer.

Or he could get eaten by a manticore, or burned by a dragon, or attacked by one of a dozen other monsters that Sunset could think off the top of her head because, as much as she liked to pretend otherwise, Equestria was not a universally safe place. It pleased her to recall it differently; it suited her purposes and salved her ego to look down upon Remnant from a position of cultural superiority, and part of that was to think that Equestria was devoid of peril, a place where all ponies lived lives of utter peace and plenty and prosperity. And, to be sure, it was not entirely false to think of things that way; there was nothing in the history of the pony races that even came close to the barbarism that humans had inflicted upon one another in the name of nation, religion, or ideology. But Equestria … Equestria was not a tame land, not completely; the fact that Miss Pole had visited there and returned home as the unwilling host of a tantabus proved that. Malmsey Scrub might learn that lesson too, if he lingered in Equestria too long.

He might already have done so. But Sunset couldn’t leave him there on the off-chance that he might already be beyond saving.

There was a boy who might be in trouble, and she couldn’t leave him there, not even for the greater good of Arcadia Lake.

Certainly, she couldn’t leave him there because she didn’t want to go, although she very much did not want to go. These magic rings … the very sight of them repelled her. They pushed her away as though they were imbued with telekinesis. She did not want to take one step closer to them.

She was not worthy to return to Equestria after what she had done. The weight of her actions stayed her hooves and ought to bring her down, incapable of rising upwards to the shining land that she had left behind.

She did not want to go; she was afraid that if she went, she would not want to come back again.

And yet she must go. In this instance, she really was the best pony for the job.

She raised her hand; it glowed green, and that green glow was matched by the green aura of her magic as she grabbed a ring of that same colour and pulled it telekinetically into her hand. Sunset grabbed it and held it between her forefinger and thumb. It looked to be a perfect fit for her; she supposed that was the magic at work; there would have been no point in making magic rings if they either fell off people’s fingers or else people couldn’t get them on in the first place.

Which raised a question. Sunset frowned. “How did they get these rings on to come back?”

Professor Scrub frowned back at her in his turn. “Whatever do you mean? Malmsey simply put the green ring on Miss Pole’s finger, and another on his own.”

Sunset stared at him. “They didn’t tell you what happens when a person goes to Equestria?”

“No,” Professor Scrub replied. “What happens?”

“Well, if they didn’t tell you, I certainly shan’t,” Sunset said, out of pure spitefulness. But considering what he’d done, she felt she had a right to be a little spiteful with the man.

His birthright, indeed. He is no more worthy to walk Equestria’s fields than I am.

She might not take the rings for herself — she would not do so; she did not deserve the right — but she would certainly not allow him to keep them either. Once she was back with Malmsey, she would destroy them.

As for the question of wearing the ring, she would put it on her horn; that was the traditional place for a unicorn, after all.

For now, however, she slipped the green ring into her jacket pocket before summoning a yellow ring over to her with her telekinesis. It hovered in the air before her for a moment; Sunset could feel a ringing in her ears, an incessant humming sound that seemed to be getting louder and louder. The ring itself appeared to be glowing brighter than before, as though it were conscious, as though it desired to be worn.

Sunset felt the urge to throw the thing aside, but instead, she pulled it onto her finger.

Absolutely nothing happened.

“You’ll need to take your glove off,” Professor Scrub explained. “It has to touch the skin, or else it won’t work; that’s how I was able to handle the rings without being transported away. So long as I wore gloves, I was perfectly alright.”

“Thank you for telling me,” Sunset muttered. She pulled the ring off with magic and held it in the air; fortunately, the ring finger came off these bridal gloves, so she was spared the need to take off first her vambrace and then the glove itself, but could simply pull back the silk from the ring finger, exposing a single finger of bare skin.

Bare skin onto which she slipped the yellow ring.

Everything went black.

The next thing Sunset knew, she was lying on her belly on cold stone.

Her eyes were closed. She opened them, seeing a pair of gloved forehooves sticking out in front of her.

Her forehooves. They moved when she moved her arms — or rather, legs, she should say in the present context.

She felt … she felt the same. No, wait; no, she didn’t; she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. She couldn’t feel her fingers for the very simple reason that they weren’t there any more.

It felt strange. Of course, when she’d first come to Remnant, it had felt strange to have fingers, to have these weird little wiggling things on the ends of her hooves — and toes too; she’d hadn’t been able to get the point of toes. It had been strange, being some kind of hornless minotaur. But now … now, it felt as though her appendages had been severed from her. She felt strange without them, vulnerable almost.

On the other hoof, her magic felt as though it had gotten a lot stronger; it felt as though a dam had burst inside her, everything that had held her power back in Remnant now gone, her full strength unleashed, the prodigy of Canterlot returned.

Sunset could not prevent the smile returning to her face as she got to her feet. Magic flowed through her now, like a roaring river, she could … she could do anything! Anything she wanted, anything at all!

Anything except find Malmsey Scrub just by casting a spell.

“Malmsey?” Sunset called out as she got to her hooves. “Malmsey Scrub?”

The words ‘Malmsey Scrub’ echoed off the walls, reverberating back at her from a hundred different places.

Sunset turned in place, her horn flaring bright emerald as a dozen balls of magelight emerged from the tip of it, fluttering forth to land in different places, sticking to walls and floors, illuminating her location. She stood in the middle of a room, a great stone chamber, built of stone, not hewn out of it like a cave. It was square, with slightly slanted walls rising up towards a point. Could she be in the middle of some kind of pyramid or ancient temple? There was no natural light coming in; she was completely enclosed, but not sealed off; there were corridors leading away from the central chamber.

Upon the walls were etched pictograms, and Sunset’s eyes flickered over them, trying to find where they started, trying to parse the images. She thought that that picture of ponies lying down might be sleeping, and that one of them sitting up screaming referred to nightmares, but she couldn’t be certain. Nevertheless, from looking, from studying the order in which they came, the way they climbed up the walls, she thought she got a rough idea of what she was looking at: a unicorn had created a tantabus — why was unclear; it was hard to convey in pictorial form; possibly they just hadn’t liked the target very much and wanted to get back at them — which had then proceeded to get out of hoof, spreading into the nightmares of other ponies; before it could get too powerful, before it could start to influence the waking world, or perhaps just as it had begun to do so, they had exorcised it, trapping it in this place and locking it away, and then they had moved away, escaping its influence.

Until one day, a traveller from a different world had found itself in this temple, in this chamber — and the tantabus had found them.

You were right, Professor Scrub; you could meet absolutely anything travelling to another world. Some people might have considered that a reason not to do it.

“Malmsey Scrub!” Sunset yelled, louder this time, although once again, she got no answer but the echoes.

One advantage of this temple being sealed up to keep the tantabus in is that he shouldn’t be too hard to find.

Although there are a couple of routes to choose from.

Sunset looked down at the floor. It was, as you might expect, incredibly dusty.

The dust had also been disturbed, and more than once. There were hoofprints in it, leading out of both exits from this central chamber.

But one set of hoofprints looked fresher than the rest. It was those prints that Sunset followed, moving with surprising quiet — surprising to herself, at least; she’d forgotten how quiet she could be when she wasn’t wearing shoes — out of the central chamber, turning right just as the hoofprints did. Her horn glowed brightly, and she cast magelight ahead of her to offer additional illumination, not that there was very much to see. The corridors were barren, dark brown stone devoid even of the pictograms that had enlivened the central chamber somewhat. She wasn’t entirely sure why it had been built in this way, why the single chamber had not sufficed to contain the tantabus, but perhaps by building a bigger complex, they could keep ponies further away and, thus, out of the creature’s influence.

It was the best explanation that she could come up with.

Regardless, she followed the trail of hoofprints, which eventually became the only hoofprints, following them through twists and turns in the corridors until, at last, she came to a dead end.

A great pile of rubble blocked her way, stones that come crashing down from the ceiling above; there were chinks of moonlight shining down from high above, where the collapsed roof had partially opened this place up to the world, but there was no way through.

And yet, the hoofprints definitely led this way.

Sunset frowned. She opened her mouth and yet thought better of shouting. She didn’t know how stable the rest of the ceiling was.

And yet the hoofprints led this way.

And there was something else too, something which Sunset didn’t notice immediately but which she caught sight of the more she looked: a green glow coming from underneath some haphazardly fallen rubble. Sunset lifted the rubble easily, her horn glowing as she encased the stones in her magical aura and hauled them to reveal a green ring lying on the ground.

Sunset levitated the ring up. It was definitely a twin to the one she had in her saddle bag.

Which meant… which meant she was in the right place, or she was already too late.

Let it be the first and not the second, Sunset thought, as she doused the magelight and brought all her magic to bear upon the pile of rubble that confronted her. Her horn burned as bright as dragonfire as she reached out for it. She might have no fingers, but she could feel her magic as though it were her hands; she could feel each rock and all the gaps between them; she could feel their edges, almost feel their weight. She grabbed every stone, every chunk of rubble; she grabbed everything that stood in her way; and she even had enough power left to devote some to holding up the ceiling above her. She missed having this much magic. If she could do all this in Remnant, then…

Best not to think about that. She would only be sour about it when she got back to Remnant. Best to focus on the job.

She pulled, the feeling from every piece of stone flowing through her mind. It was like playing Jenga; you wanted to pull the pieces out without the ones above coming down on you; you wanted to lift everything to miss nothing, to do nothing that would risk another collapse.

Slowly, gradually, the stones began to move. They ground against one another, they rumbled ominously and forced Sunset to stop and start again, they grunted and resisted, and there were times she had to give them a solid hard tug with her magic, but they moved. They moved.

They moved out of the way for her as Sunset raised them overhead and dumped them down behind her — she didn’t need the way out as long as she had her green ring — to reveal that a very small piece of the sanctuary wall had also fallen in.

And a young earth pony colt was sitting near that chink in the wall, with one leg bent at what looked like an uncomfortable angle.

“Malmsey Scrub?” Sunset asked.

His coat was green, grape green, with eyes that were a sort of golden colour, the colour of white wine, while his mane was straw yellow and tufty. His eyes widened as he said, “How did you know?”

“I’ve come from Remnant; your uncle was worried you’ve been gone too long.”

Malmsey blinked. “Uncle Andrew was worried?”

“Surprised?” Sunset asked.

“A little,” Malmsey admitted.

Sunset snorted. “I can’t say I blame you, having met the man,” she said. “I’d ask if you were hurt, but I think I can guess.”

Malmsey winced. “When I saw this place, where the wall had fallen in, I thought that I could break through the rest of the way and get out. But then the ceiling came down; I got out of the way, but … I got hit by a rock. And I lost my green ring.”

“I’ve got it right here,” Sunset said, levitating it out of her saddle bag. “I don’t know if you managed to put it on before, but I think if you just touch it, you can go home.”

Malmsey shook her head. “I can’t go home, not yet.”

“With that leg you’re in no position to go anywhere else.”

“But I can’t,” Malmsey insisted. “You don’t understand—”

“Don’t I?” Sunset replied. “You’ve been coming back here, again and again, looking for something that will wake your friend up, right?”

Malmsey nodded. “That’s right.”

“Only you’ve given up on finding anything in here, probably because there isn’t anything in here, so now you want to get out and see if there’s a cure out there, am I right?” Sunset asked.

Malmsey was silent for a moment. “I have to,” he said.

Sunset sighed, and sat down beside him, giving his injured leg a wide berth. “Kid, Malmsey, there are a lot of things that I could say to you right now. I could tell you that what has happened to Miss Pole is not a disease and that you’re not going to find a cure for what ails her here or anywhere else. I could tell you that I think that I can fix her, because everything that I’ve found out has only made me more convinced in what I think has become of her. I could tell you that, and I hope it made you feel a little better to hear it, but the most important thing that I’m going to say to you … well, actually, there are two important things, the first being that this: that what happened to Miss Pole is not your fault. It’s absolutely your uncle’s fault, but that’s not a reason you should feel guilty.”

“She wouldn’t have come if she hadn’t been my friend,” Malmsey murmured. “If she hadn’t come around to play, then Uncle Andrew couldn’t have tricked her—”

“'Tricked her'?” Sunset cried. “He tricked her?”

Malmsey looked up. “He didn’t tell you that he offered to let Plum take one of the yellow rings without telling her what it was or did?”

“No, he did not,” Sunset growled. “But, I repeat, that isn’t your fault.”

“But if she weren’t my friend—”

“Then she would have been miserable, from what I understand,” Sunset said. “She doesn’t like it here. Not here, she doesn’t like Arcadia Lake, does she?”

Malmsey shook his head.

“Then I’m sure that she was glad to find a friend here — there!” Sunset said. “Now, like I said, I think that I can make her better—”

“How?” Malmsey asked.

“By entering her mind and doing battle with the creature that dwells there,” Sunset declared. At least, she hoped her semblance would allow her to do so. If it didn’t … if it didn’t, they would cross that bridge when they came to it. “Now, when she wakes up … maybe she will blame you. Maybe she won’t want anything to do with you. I don’t guarantee that everything will be as it was, but whatever Miss Pole’s reaction, even if she does blame you, that is no reason you should blame yourself. You did nothing wrong, and while it is fair enough that you should blame yourself for the mistakes that you’ve made, to hold yourself responsible for mistakes that you haven’t made is…”

Malmsey waited a moment. “Is what?”

“Arrogance,” Sunset told him. “The same as…” She could not restrain a chuckle. “The same as thinking that you can do it all on your own, fix all the problems on your own, something that … that wouldn’t be true even if you’d created them. What were you going to do, search everywhere, potentially a whole world, all by yourself until you found what you were looking for, without telling anyone? Without knowing what you were looking for?”

Malmsey bowed his head. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds…”

“Well-intentioned,” Sunset informed him. “You meant well, and that counts for a lot. But you … well, you ended up here, and I … if my friend hadn’t insisted that I bring company, I wouldn’t have made it here to find you. We can none of us do it all by ourselves; we’re not that special.” She smiled. “But it was very brave of you to try.”

Malmsey said, “Can you really save her?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, and hoped it was true.

Was it lying if she thought she was probably right?

“Then … then we should probably go home, so that you can,” Malmsey said.

“That’s the spirit,” Sunset said. She levitated him up into the air, so that he wouldn’t land on his injured leg, and levitated too both green rings, his and hers. She held them close, ready to touch her horn and his hoof. “Are you ready?”

Malmsey nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay then,” Sunset said, and brought the green rings into contact.

Everything went black.

The next thing Sunset knew, she was back in Professor Scrub’s study, with Malmsey Scrub cradled in her arms.

“Bravo,” Eve said, clapping. “Bravo! How was Equestria, Sunset Shimmer? Was it the same as you remembered it? Somehow, I doubt it will be the same as I remember it, but I’ll soon fix that.”

“Eve?” Sunset asked. “What are you doing here? What are you talking about?”

Eve smiled as she peeled herself off the study doorway. “Perhaps I should reintroduce myself,” she said. “Or rather, perhaps I should introduce myself, since Eve Viperidae is not my real name. The name my mother gave me is Evenfall Gleaming. You might have heard of me.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “No, that … that’s not … you can’t be the Last Unicorn.”

“'The Last Unicorn'?” Eve repeated. “Is that what they call me?” She tittered. “Well, I can be, and I am, and because I am, I’m going to take one of those rings, and the tantabus, and I’m going to go home. I’ve been away for far, far too long.”

The Dream Maker, Part Five (New)

The Dream Maker, Part Five

Princess Celestia sipped delicately from her mug of hot chocolate. "So, little sunbeam, how are you finding Hinny the Elder?"

Sunset looked up at her. The light from the fire before them made Princess Celestia's samite coat gleam like pearl; the reflection of the flames danced in her eyes.

The fire was red and gold, just like her mane. It danced in the princess' eyes the way that Sunset was in her heart.

And always would be.

Sunset smiled. "I love the language. It's like reading poetry, but … better."

Princess Celestia smiled down at her. Her voice was soft and kind and curious as she asked, "'Better'? In what way?"

In every way, Sunset was tempted to say, but she had been taught well enough to reach beyond such a vague and vapid generalisation. She sought for specifics. "So often, the beauty of language found in poetry is wasted upon unworthy subject matter: trees and flowers and autumn leaves—"

Princess Celestia raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And what is so unworthy about trees and flowers and autumn leaves?"

Sunset fell silent for a moment. It was a rebuke, a gentle one but a rebuke nonetheless. She ran her tongue along the outside of her mouth. "I … find them boring."

"And yet' to other ponies' they are the centre of the world, as dear as life itself," Princess Celestia reminded her. "If you came across a pony with a cutie mark of flowers, whose passion was for flowers, who grew or studied or sold flowers, would you think them unworthy?"

Yes, Sunset thought, or at least less worthy than myself. She knew from occasionally bitter experience, however, that that was not the kind of answer that Princess Celestia wished to hear, and so, Sunset glanced away from her and muttered, "No, Princess."

She felt Princess Celestia's wing enfold her from above, the feathers soft and warm and tickling her coat ever so slightly as wrapped around her.

"I am glad to hear it," Princess Celestia replied. She paused for a moment. "No one will begrudge you your passions or your interests, Sunset, so long as you do not begrudge others theirs or hold yourself above and they below because of it." Once more, she paused a moment. "But you were saying, about poetry and Hinny the Elder?"

Sunset looked back up at the princess, and the fact that the smile had returned to the Princess' face gladdened Sunset's heart. To upset or disappoint Princess Celestia was never her intent. Princess Celestia might raise the sun and moon, but in truth, that smile upon her face was as much sun to Sunset Shimmer as the celestial orb that lit the world. That smile was the sun, and — despite her stated disinterest in them — Sunset was the flower that blossomed in its dazzling light.

They sat together in Princess Celestia's sitting room, the two of them sat upon the carpet before the fire. Princess Celestia's horn glowed golden, and that same golden light enveloped the cup of hot cocoa that she levitated in the air not far from her face. Sunset's cup, which included marshmallows and whipped cream, sat on the floor in front of her.

Sunset continued, or rather started again, leaving behind her prior argument and the distaste that Princess Celestia had for it to say, "And oftentimes, poetry uses its language like a fog, dazzling you with words to disguise the fact that it is saying nothing at all: words without meaning or relevance. Hinny's language is of a different sort, not less delightful but used in service to describe events that really happened to real ponies."

She drank from her cup, licking up the beard of cream that stained her face around her mouth.

Princess Celestia nodded. "For myself, I think he is amongst the best historians of any era; I do not always agree with his conclusions, but few others, if any, can be said to combine facts with artistry in the relaying of those facts the way that he does. The lives lived by the ponies of those days, the characters of the ponies concerned—"

"The deeds that they did," Sunset added. "But, Princess, there is one thing I don't understand. Maybe it will be explained later, but—"

"But there is no reason you cannot ask," Princess Celestia said, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "What is it that confuses you?"

"Why does Hinny talk of the Last Unicorn?" asked Sunset. "After all, I'm a unicorn, and there are plenty of us left; for that matter, Hinny was a unicorn himself, so what makes this Evenfall so special?"

The smile faded from Princess Celestia's face, replaced with a twisting of her mouth in distaste "I would rather that you didn't use that term," she said, her voice becoming clipped and sharp. "It is, as you point out, inaccurate, and unseemly."

Sunset looked down. She spoke quickly, words galloping out, "Forgive me, Princess, I didn't mean to—"

"Oh, sunbeam, I am not angry with you," Princess Celestia insisted, craning her long neck down to nuzzle Sunset gently. "I'm sorry if that is what you thought, but it is not the case. You are not at fault for raising something you have read, but … the name 'the Last Unicorn' is one that I dislike, and something on which I disagree profoundly with Hinny; at best, the use of it shows a worrying sanitisation of Evenfall's unsavoury attitudes; at best, it reveals some darkness in the hearts of those who use the name."

"But what does it mean?" Sunset asked.

"As you have correctly identified," Princess Celestia replied, slipping into the didactic tone that Sunset recognised from their lessons, "it does not refer to the physical absence of unicorns after her. Rather, and this is what makes it so pernicious a term, it refers to values. Evenfall Gleaming was called 'the Last Unicorn' because it was believed that the spirit of the unicorns of old had vanished with her." Princess Celestia took pause a moment. "Something vanished with her, I admit; she was the last flowering of an idea, an attitude … but it was a bitter flowering of a poisonous plant, and everything that Evenfall represented, Equestria is far, far better off without."

Sunset frowned. "What do you mean, Princess?"

Princess Celestia chuckled. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather hear it in Hinny's words?"

Sunset smiled as she snuggled up to Princess Celestia. "I'd rather hear your words."

Princess Celestia chuckled. "Very well," she said softly. "This all happened a very long time ago, more than a thousand years ago, before my sister and I took up the rule of Equestria. I had already taken over raising the sun in the sky each day, alleviating the need for powerful unicorns to sacrifice their magic by working in concert with Starswirl the Bearded to accomplish that task. For that, and for Luna's part in raising the moon at night, we were widely acclaimed, and there were those in each of the three races who said that we deserved the rule of Equestria, that we were … destined for it."

Sunset smiled at that. She had no doubt that those who had said such things at the time had been right: Princess Celestia had been destined to rule all of Equestria.

Just as she, Sunset Shimmer, was destined to succeed and to surpass her mentor.

"But we were still young, Luna and I, for all our gifts, and not yet fit to rule. Not wise enough, not educated enough, so we remained under the tutelage of Starswirl the Bearded, although many suspected — as turned out to be the case — that he was not only teaching us magic, but also grooming us to ascend the thrones of Equestria as rulers of all three tribes." Princess Celestia paused for a moment. "There were some who misliked that. None moreso than Evenfall Gleaming."

"But why?" Sunset asked. "Why would anyone object to being ruled by you, wise as you are, and gentle, and noble, and—?"

Princess Celestia laughed aloud. "You are very kind, Sunset, but I am not telling you this story so that you may flatter me and soothe my vanity. Remember that I was not so well known then, and had not had a thousand years ruling — I hope — wisely and well to endear me to ponies of all races. Some of the objections were self-interested, by those who feared to lose their power and position in a new order; others were those who disliked the other tribes and feared yet closer integration. Evenfall had some of both in her: hating pegasi, despising earth ponies, envying Starswirl his preeminence amongst unicorn mages, she was a throwback even then to a time that was rapidly fading away — and for good reasons and good riddance. She would have seen the windigos return with the malice in her heart. Although she had never taken part in the raising of the sun, fearing to lose her magic in the process, she railed against me and my sister too for having usurped this function that properly belonged to the unicorn race. She spoke of the superiority of unicorns, of how, blessed by magic as they were, it was their responsibility to rule over pegasi and earth ponies for their own good."

"So … when she is called the Last Unicorn," Sunset said, "it's because she was the last one to think this way?"

Princess Celestia nodded. "The last, at least, with any power or influence. Now you see why I dislike the term; it imbues squalid prejudice with a sense of grandeur and turns arrogance into something heroic we should mourn the loss of. Nevertheless, I must admit that she spoke well, and many unicorns flocked to her banner."

Sunset had a hard time understanding that. Most magic, barring a few extraordinary unicorns like Starswirl the Bearded or, well, herself, was quite ordinary and unimpressive, while some pegasi had the ability to create storms out of nothing, an ability of which she was, frankly, envious; she was eager to ascend so that she could do it too. Besides that, there were pegasi and earth ponies of good families, long established in Canterlot, who, while they might lack Sunset's grand and glorious destiny, were nonetheless worthy of respect. In Sunset's opinion, good breeding and profession — or the lack thereof — counted for more than race.

"Why didn't anyone stop her?" she asked.

"Starswirl attempted it, fearing what Evenfall might do," Princess Celestia explained. "He reached out to the pegasi and the earth ponies, who were — as you can imagine — not pleased with what Evenfall was saying. A plan was made to arrest her, but she got wind of it before it could be done and fled. There, in secret, using dark magic the particulars of which I do not wish to know nor wish anypony else to know, she forged what were called the dark regalia, three dark artefacts, each of them imbued with the power of one of the three pony races: the Crown Dominate, for unicorns; the Lightning Collar, for pegasi; and the Armilla Superior, for earth ponies."

Sunset blinked. "Imbued with their power? What do you mean?"

"Each artefact, when worn, gave their wearer the power of the strongest unicorn, pegasus, or earth pony," Princess Celestia explained. "Wearing them all, Evenfall gained even greater magical power, and the strengths of the pegasi and the earth pony races."

"But didn't she think that unicorns were so much better than earth ponies or pegasi?" Sunset asked.

"So she claimed," Princess Celestia replaced. "But sadly, Sunset, hypocrisy was far from the least of her vices. With these dark regalia, Evenfall vowed to take Equestria for herself and restore what she called the natural order of things."

"But she was stopped, wasn't she?" Sunset asked. "Did you stop her?"

"No," Princess Celestia admitted. "Starswirl told me that I was too young, too inexperienced; he told me that my potential should not be thrown aside unrealised in battle with an uncertain outcome. He went to confront her himself. I know not what, exactly, happened when they met; I watched Starswirl gallop away, and three days later, he returned and told me it was done. And Evenfall Gleaming was never heard from again."

Sunset stared at her. Eve. Evenfall Gleaming. The Last Unicorn.

“It can’t be,” Sunset murmured. “That was … that was over a thousand years ago!”

“Yes, I am rather well-preserved, aren’t I?” Eve asked. “A beneficial side effect of the dark regalia. I may not have ascended to become an alicorn, but it appears that combining the powers of all three races has given me all the advantages that come with ascension.”

Sunset scowled. “Or using so much dark magic has hollowed you out and left your skin stretched over nothing. Why don’t you take those artefacts off and see how immortal you really are?”

Eve chuckled. “Come on, Sunset Shimmer; surely, you can do better than that if you want to take my regalia away from me?”

“What’s going on?” Malmsey asked.

“Your uncle has done me a great service,” Eve replied, reaching out with one gauntleted hand to idly stroke the hair of Professor Scrub where he sat, hunched up and quivering, in his armchair. He squirmed away, but ineffectually; she was able to stroke his head as though he were a Labrador just the same. “And now, I’m going to do him — and all of you — a great service. You won’t have to worry about any nasty nightmares anymore, because I’ll be taking your little girlfriend and her passenger and returning to my own world where I belong.”

Malmsey’s eyes widened. “Plum? No! No, you can’t take her back there; you can’t take her anywhere!”

“And who is going to stop me?” Eve demanded.

Malmsey looked away from her, his gaze flickering to Sunset.

He stared at her, as though he were waiting for her to say the words.

Sunset did not say the words. She knew what he expected her to say, she knew what a hero would say. There was only one real response to someone asking ‘and who is going to stop me?’ and that was to say ‘I will!’ in a ringing tone and at significant volume.

And yet, she did not say it. She didn’t say it because she was sharing a room with two people, one of whom was injured, one of whom didn’t have any aura that she knew of, and she didn’t want to get into a fight with one of the most powerful unicorns of her or any age, who was also empowered by three incredibly dangerous artefacts which she had made herself, while they were in a position to get caught in the crossfire.

To tell the truth, she didn’t really want to get into a fight with one of the most powerful unicorns of her or any age at all, not here in Remnant where her own magic was sadly diminished, not even in Equestria maybe.

But if it came to that, she didn’t want it to start in this room.

So she said nothing as she levitated Malmsey Scrub out of her arms, keeping her fists closed to show Eve that she meant no violence — she trusted Eve was smart enough to understand that, with closed fists, she couldn’t shoot any magical beams out of her hands or fingers — and set him down, gently and carefully, in the corner of the room.

“Everything,” she said softly, “is going to be alright.”

Eve smirked. “Is that so? And how, precisely, is everything going to be alright, Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset licked her lips. “As I understand it, Starswirl the Bearded went to fight you—”

“Him and his little coterie of peasants and barbarians, yes,” Eve said. “I never understood why he chose to associate with such filth.”

“And then he came back and told Princess Celestia that it was done,” Sunset went on, “by which he meant—”

“That, unable to truly defeat me, he banished me here,” Eve said. “Which I’ve always thought was a bit of a cheat, really.”

Sunset didn’t reply to that, instead choosing to reflect that it was things like this which had given Equestria such a bad name with those in the know like Professor Ozpin.

“So, you’ve been here for a thousand years,” Sunset said. “And you decided to pretend to be a student at Haven because…? You told me you weren’t interested in glory, or honour for that matter?”

“I’m not,” Eve said. “Honour was what led so many of my people to bow their heads to the usurper Celestia, honour was what led them to follow that traitor Starswirl, because of course he was such an honourable unicorn, and so worth following where he led. As I told you, Sunset, honour is just words, words, words.”

“Then why are you here?” Sunset demanded.

“Because I want to go home,” Eve declared. “I want to get out of this place, I want to reclaim my full power, I want to reclaim my birthright as a unicorn! And so, I have been a soldier; I’ve been a huntress; every twenty five or thirty years or so, I disappear for a little while, before it gets too obvious that I’m not ageing, and then after a discrete interval, I reappear as someone else. You’d be amazed at how a little weight gain here, a little weight loss there, can render you unrecognisable. So I have served and died and served again and in the service of kings and lords and common men; I have travelled across these lands, always searching, listening, watching for any sign of anything that would lead me back to the place where I belong, any way I could make use of to get back home. And my patience has finally paid off. When the nightmares started, I knew; I recognised the signs of a tantabus. I knew there was a way. I knew that something had come from Equestria, and I knew that if something had come that way, then I could go back—”

“The dome,” Sunset said. “That was your doing.”

“Of course,” Eve said. “You didn’t think the tantabus had sealed off the village, did you?”

Honestly, Sunset hadn’t thought too much about it. “And when you felt my magic touch the barrier—”

“I was curious,” Eve said. “I thought that if I couldn’t find the way back to Equestria here, I could ask you how you got here instead.” She smiled. “Perhaps I’ll do that anyway.”

“I’m not particularly minded to tell you,” Sunset murmured. If you couldn’t find the mirror in Canterlot by yourself, I’m not going to let you know where it is.”

“Why not?” Eve asked. “I’m going back anyway; you’ve got nothing to gain by your silence.”

“Really?” Sunset said. She held out one hand, and although her fist was closed, she nevertheless levitated all the rings up into the air, yellow and green alike turning lazily in circles, like planets moving in orbit around an invisible star.

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “I advise you to think very carefully about what you do next, Sunset. I’ve waited a thousand years for this chance.”

“Yes, a thousand years,” Sunset replied. “A thousand years you’ve been here, and what have you done? Searched and searched for a way back to Equestria? Searched and found nothing until now?” She laughed. “You are regarded as a mage to rival Starswirl the Bearded—”

“I am—”

“Then where is your kingdom, where is your crown?” Sunset demanded. “I can’t help but find it all … rather pathetic.”

Eve let out a wordless snarl of anger. “'Pathetic'? You think that I should have settled down to rule amongst these … these animals? That I should have dedicated all my years to ruling them, to being a glorified kennel master, to settling their wretched arguments, to defending their worthless hides? I am a unicorn! I am the Evenfall of my race, the last light of our surrendered greatness; I will go back to Equestria—”

“And the Elements of Harmony will stop you,” Sunset said. “You’d be better off sticking around here, if you ask me.”

“The Elements of … what are you talking about?” Eve demanded.

“Um, right, that might be a little after your time,” Sunset murmured. “Powerful magic. The greatest magic. Magic to protect Equestria from the likes of you.”

“There is no magic more powerful than the regalia that I possess,” Eve snapped. “With my crown and collar and my armilla, I am the perfect pony!”

“The perfect pony is one who can inspire others to stand alongside them,” Sunset insisted.

Eve’s lip curled into a sneer. “If you think so, why not let me go? If I go only to my defeat, then why would you rather I remained?”

Because I’m not certain. Because every time Twilight fights for Equestria, there is a chance that she will lose, or that it will be her last fight — or the last fight of her friends. Because even if you were defeated, as you probably would be, I would be responsible for any damage that you did.

Because I didn’t come here to throw anyone else under the train.

“If you are so confident in your triumph, then why do you want the tantabus?” Sunset countered. “Go to Equestria without it and conquer all with your own strength — or at the least that of your dark artefacts. You can’t think you can control it, can you?”

“Don’t make the mistake of assuming I cannot,” Eve replied. “I’ve always had a certain affinity with dark creatures.” She smiled. “They recognise me as one of their own. Why do you think that I, alone of everyone in this village, have not been troubled by nightmares?”

“And why you would have no problem ruling over the living nightmare that the tantabus would create once it grew strong enough,” Sunset muttered.

Eve shrugged. “The ponies of Equestria had their chance,” she said. “I offered them leadership; I offered them the benevolent rule of a good shepherd—”

“That is what Celestia offered and what Celestia gave Equestria once you were gone!” Sunset snarled. “You offered them the grinding oppression of a bigot. I’ve often thought that we ponies are better than the humans of this world, but you’re worse; at least when the humans put down the faunus, they don’t talk about it as if they’re doing them a favour!”

Eve rolled her eyes. “I’m getting tired of this,” she said as she grabbed Professor Scrub by the neck and lifted him off his chair and up into the air, legs kicking helplessly in the air as he gasped and gargled wordlessly. “Let me make this simple for you, Sunset: give me those rings, or I’ll take them from you — but not before I kill the old man and the boy.”

“You can’t let her take Plum away!” Malmsey cried. “It doesn’t matter what happens to us—”

“Quiet, boy, or I’ll kill you first,” Eve said. Her eyes were fixed on Sunset. “What’s it going to be?”

Sunset glanced at Malmsey Scrub. Some might say that you have more the heart of a hero than I do. Although I can’t say I approve of dying.

And because of that, I won’t let you die for Miss Pole’s sake.

She released the rings and let them clatter back down into the wooden tray on the table.

Malmsey gasped.

Eve stared at her for a moment. Then she released Professor Scrub, dumping him back down roughly onto his chair — he very nearly fell out of it and had to grab the arms to support himself.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eve asked. She raised her hand, and her spiked gauntlet — one of the Armilla Superior, no doubt — was wreathed in a red light the same shade as the dome that enclosed the village, as she, in turn, levitated up one of the yellow rings.

Sunset teleported, disappearing and then reappearing again with a crack and a burst of green light, covering the distance between her and Eve in an instant.

Eve’s eyes widened as Sunset grabbed her by the collar of her long coat.

She teleported away again before Eve could react, the two of them vanishing from Professor Scrub’s study and reappearing again high in the air, close to the top of the dome that Eve had created, close to the rocky ceiling of the nightmare Mountain Glenn — how was it that hadn’t disappeared while Sunset was away? — and above Arcadia Lake.

There was another crack and a flash of red light as they teleported again, at Eve’s command this time, reappearing in front of Doctor Diggory’s house.

Eve grabbed Sunset by the neck and slammed her, back first, into the ground. Sunset groaned in pain as she felt the shock through her aura. Eve really was strong. Sunset understood what Princess Celestia had meant by the Armilla Superior granting her the strength of the strongest earth pony. Even if she’d been able to check how much aura she had left, she wasn’t sure that she would have wanted to.

“Now what do you think you accomplished by that?” Eve demanded. “I’ll just take the girl first, and then—”

“Sunset!” Starlight cried, and her voice heralded a burst of fire from her rifle, the blue bolts streaking through the air towards Eve.

Eve raised one hand, and a crimson shield appeared before her, absorbing Starlight’s bolts without visible effect, the energy dissipating against her shield like water splashing against a window.

But Sunset was on the wrong side of the shield, and the twin beams of magic that burst out of her hands like rivers were not intercepted, not blocked; at least, they were not blocked by anything but Eve’s chest as she was flung up into the air.

Sunset kept firing, bolt after bolt of magic leaping from the palms of her hand as she climbed to her feet. Even as she tried to see what was going on out of the corners of her eye — she could see Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy, as well as Doctor Diggory with some sort of large-barrelled blunderbuss in his hands — she kept her focus upon Eve as she flung magic up at her.

Some of them hit her, a few of them missed as Eve was flung through the air, some of them struck the shield that she managed to fling up before, probably using a reverse gravity spell, she lowered herself down to the ground about a dozen or so feet away from Sunset.

Ditzy took a step forward. “Eve? What’s going on?”

Eve closed her eyes. “In all the time that I have spent trapped on this wretched, disgusting world, there is nothing that has frustrated me more than having to listen to you! I am going to enjoy pulling your head off before I leave.”

Ditzy recoiled a little. “Well, that’s not very nice.”

Starlight shuffled over to stand beside Sunset. “What’s going on?”

“Short version: she’s evil, and she wants to take the nightmare monster that is in Miss Pole and use it to turn a world into a living nightmare.”

Starlight blinked in shock. “There’s a nightmare monster in Miss Pole?”

“Did I not mention that earlier?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Starlight replied. “No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, there’s a nightmare monster inside Miss Pole,” Sunset said. “Sorry I didn’t bring that up earlier; I wasn’t one hundred percent certain.”

“Give me the girl!” Eve bellowed. “Or do you want to die for someone you don’t even know?”

“You’re making quite an assumption there, aren’t you?” Starlight replied.

“Miss Pole is in my charge,” Doctor Diggory declared, “and I will not surrender her, certainly not to the likes of you.”

“Bravely spoken, Doctor, but maybe leave this to us,” Trixie said. “She looks like she means business. Sunset! Can you stop these nightmares?”

Sunset swallowed. “I think so, yes.”

“Then do it!” Trixie commanded. “The Grrreat and Powerrrrrful Team Tsunami, pride of Atlas, will handle things here.”

“But—” Sunset began, mouth opening to protest that Eve was too powerful, that she couldn’t abandon them to fight somepony who had rivalled Starswirl the Bearded in his day.

“Go, Sunset,” Starlight urged. “The sooner you take care of the nightmares, the sooner we only have one problem to worry about. Go on. Don’t worry about us. We’re tougher than we look.”

For a moment longer, Sunset hesitated; she didn’t want to leave; she didn’t want to abandon them to this fight. But Starlight had a point; so long as the tantabus remained inside Miss Pole, then they all had that to worry about as well as Eve, while once the tantabus was gone, then whatever else Eve might do, she would have no more interest in Miss Pole.

“Her crown, necklace, and gauntlets strengthen her,” she said. “Try and remove them if you can.”

“We’ll bear that in mind,” Starlight agreed.

Then Sunset turned away, and hoped that Starlight, Trixie and Ditzy were as strong as they thought they were.

Things had happened very fast for Starlight Glimmer.

She, Trixie, and Ditzy had fallen back in the face of the grimm, covering the gradual evacuation of Arcadia Lake until they had reached Doctor Diggory’s house, which by that point had had what seemed to be the entire population of the village — good thing it wasn’t a big place — crammed inside, with the good doctor himself standing outside with his gun that could only be a huntsman’s weapon from however many years ago.

They had been prepared to make their stand there, outside the house. The advantages of fighting from inside of a building, against the grimm, were not great enough to justify the concomitant loss of visibility and movement that would entail; the grimm didn’t shoot, in the main, so you gained nothing from what little cover the walls might offer, and once they broke into a house full of panicking civilians, said people would not only be in greater danger but would also get in the way of defence. Best to fight them outside, keep them away from the civilians, have the freedom to move around a little more as the situation dictated. And that was what they had been prepared to do, hold off the grimm until Sunset hopefully found out what she needed to bring an end to this.

And if she didn’t find out what she needed … then they were prepared to stand their ground anyway, for as long as it took.

And then Sunset had appeared in front of them, and Eve had appeared as well; having made herself scarce as soon as all this madness got going, now she turned up with Sunset in a chokehold, slamming her into the ground hard enough to crack it.

That was why Starlight had taken a shot at her, but she couldn’t honestly say she wasn’t a little glad of the opportunity.

When Sunset had told her that Eve was, in fact, evil, it had only been the seriousness of the situation that had stopped Starlight from telling Sunset that she could have told her that much sooner.

Okay, perhaps not evil per se, but there had clearly been something with her at least from the moment it became clear that she’d lied about what happened to Ditzy’s teammates, and even a little before then.

And now she wanted to kidnap a girl for … well, Sunset hadn’t explained why, but Eve had had plenty of time to say ‘no, you’ve got this all wrong,’ and instead, she’d threatened to rip Ditzy’s head off, so that was that, as far as Starlight was concerned.

Eve faced them from down the street. She did not move; she did not speak. She seemed content to wait, for the moment.

How long that would last, Starlight couldn’t say. Probably not long enough for Sunset to do everything she needed to.

If there was one thing that concerned Starlight, it was the fact that Eve seemed to know much more about them than they knew about her. She’d been watching them; she’d seen what they could do.

Starlight didn’t remember Eve at all, and her capabilities, her strengths and weaknesses, her semblance, they were all a mystery to her. Ditzy could perhaps have supplied at least some of the answers, but there wasn’t likely to be much time to ask now.

Eve spread out her hands a little on either side of her, and almost immediately, dark clouds began to appear above her head, spreading out all around her. Dark clouds rolling with thunder, obscuring the stony ceiling of Mountain Glenn and the dome above that held them prisoner, dark clouds spreading towards the three huntresses and the house that they guarded.

And as they approached, lightning began to erupt from out of the thundering, rumbling clouds, lightning in forks and chains leaping down to strike the ground, splitting stone and sending little shards of dark rock bursting upwards.

A trio of lightning bolts hammered home into the ground around Ditzy, striking in quick succession, but with the help of her semblance, she dodged easily, avoiding each lightning bolt as it fell from heaven.

Starlight was not as nimble on her feet, but she managed to get out of the way of one such bolt, rolling away from the blast before rising to her knees to snap a shot off at Eve.

The bolt struck a red forcefield — red, just like the dome, she noticed — right in front of her, as Eve’s gauntlet-clad hands began to be wreathed in an aura of just the same crimson colour.

Sunset’s hands, Starlight recalled, did the same thing whenever she was pulling off one of her tricks.

But I’ve never seen Sunset control the weather like this. Could she be a Maiden?

If so, I guess I’ll see what I missed out on.

Starlight had hoped that the distraction of needing to protect herself from Starlight’s shot would distract Eve enough to stop the lightning, but it continued to fall, keeping all three of them on their toes, all of them jumping, all of them moving to stay out of the way of the next bolt to fall.

“Is this your plan?” Trixie demanded. “Are you just going to stand there and hope that we get struck by lightning?”

As she spoke, the howling of the grimm grew louder, and up the street charged more beowolves, snarling and growling, heedless of the thunder and the lightning up ahead. With all light now obscured by clouds, they seemed even blacker than usual, the white of their bony spurs muted, only the smouldering red of their eyes truly visible as they came on.

Eve was the closest target, and it was a relief that it was Eve who they attacked first, descending on her from behind in a great wave, maws gaping and claws bared.

Eve turned in a flash, her whole body snapping around to punch a beowolf so hard that its head was severed from its body, the whole grimm disappearing a split second later. She grabbed another by the neck and slammed it down into the ground, causing it, too, to disappear.

Starlight shot at her again, but her shield had not wavered despite the grimm.

And then Eve disappeared. There was a flash of red light, a crack that could be heard even above the thunder and the lightning, and then Eve was gone.

And with the darkness shrouding and obscuring the village, there was no sign of her.

Only of the grimm, the beowolves who, cheated of their first target, now rushed up the street towards the huntresses with howls and snarls and baying cries.

Starlight fired, pressing the trigger repeatedly, swinging Equaliser in a wide arc covering the street, blue bolts flying to cut down the beowolves as they charged in a great black wave. She kept Equaliser in rifle mode even as the grimm came closer, and Trixie spat fire at them from out of the tip of her wand, even when they got close enough that Ditzy went on the attack against them with her fists flying. The beowolves might have charged in heedless of the lightning, but as the lightning cut them down, they seemed to be or to become aware of it. These beowolves in this wave were larger than they had been before, larger and older and stronger and more dangerous; Starlight was reminded of the behaviour of grimm hordes and wondered if that, too, was a part of Sunset’s nightmare, or if Sunset’s fear of Mountain Glenn had combined with someone else’s nightmares of a grimm horde to form this scenario in which they were currently trapped. Either way, the grimm danced around the lightning as much as the huntresses did, which meant that huntresses and monsters danced around each other more than they might have done in similar circumstances, which meant that shooting was a perfectly viable strategy even at close quarters.

A beowolf darted around Starlight and made for the house, but she put it down with four well-placed shots to the back. Another tried to leap on her while her back was turned, but Trixie incinerated it with a well-placed, if prolonged, torrent of flame before she was distracted by some more pressing issues.

Another beowolf tried to get past her, but Starlight hit it in the face with Equaliser’s muzzle hard enough to knock it onto his back, then shot it in the face until it disappeared.

She fired a few shots in Ditzy’s direction, thinning the numbers confronting her, then turned to take down a couple of beowolves in support of Trixie.

A lightning bolt forced her to dive hurriedly out of the way, and she replaced the power pack in Equaliser before causing two more beowolves to vanish with two three-shot bursts.

There was a loud crack behind her.

Starlight turned swiftly enough to see the gauntleted fist coming for her face. She raised her left hand to block the blow, catching Eve’s telegraphed punch, but even the block made her aura tremble, made her whole body shake, made Starlight wince as she was pushed backwards.

She tried to bring up Equaliser, but Eve grabbed the barrel of the gun with her free hand and wrenched it sideways, causing Starlight’s shots to go wide.

She drew back her other fist, and this time, she punched Starlight in the stomach.

Starlight’s Atlesian armour meant that she wasn’t winded or doubled over, but she was hurled three feet backwards, clutching her stomach and feeling her side protest in pain where she had landed.

Equaliser slipped from her grasp and skidded away, scratching the ground as it went.

“Starlight!” Trixie cried.

Starlight took a deep breath.

Lightning crashed behind Eve as she bore down on Starlight, her long coat billowing out behind her.

Her hands began to glow red.

Starlight leapt to her feet, teeth gritted, hands balled into fists as she punched Eve in the gut before she could do whatever it was that she had planned. Once, twice, three times, Starlight slammed her fists into Eve’s stomach, focussing her aura around her fists to strengthen each blow.

Eve reeled backwards. Starlight followed up with an uppercut to Eve’s jaw that snapped her head up and sent her staggering.

Starlight drew her fist for another punch—

Eve hit her first, fist snapping out to catch Starlight on the cheek. Starlight was spun around by the force of the blow, spun around and knocked halfway to her knees as her hair flew around her.

The only thing stopping her from being flung aside completely was the hand on her shoulder.

Eve’s hand.

Eve’s hand which forcibly pulled Starlight back around until she was facing her opponent again.

Eve hit her in the chest, and Starlight felt a huge chunk of her aura vanish as she was thrown through the air, thrown with the force of a football in a soccer game kicked at the goal, thrown all the way back into the wall of Professor Diggory’s house, which cracked as she struck it.

Thunder rolled.

This time, Starlight didn’t have time to get out of the way of the lightning bolt that sliced straight down towards her.

She screamed in pain as the lightning broke her aura, the last vestiges that broke through her aura rippling up and down her body, making her limbs convulse with shock.

Starlight lay on the ground, propped up against the cracked wall, listening to the cries of alarm from those inside. She could … she felt as if she couldn’t … it felt as if movement would be very painful right now.

Breathing was painful enough; her whole chest hurt with every breath she took.

“No!” Trixie cried as she finally broke free of the grimm that had constrained her, prevented her from going to Starlight’s aid. “Starlight!” Her blue eyes, normally so warm, that sparkled when she laughed or smiled or winked, were cold now, cold as ice as she charged towards Eve, her cape streaming out behind her, the light of the lightning reflecting on the gold and silver stars.

Trixie pointed her wand straight at Eve, and a great column of flame came roaring out, completely engulfing Eve, causing her to disappear from view.

Until the flames died down abruptly, and Eve stepped through the few that remaining, waving one hand to banish them completely.

She smiled. “The Great and Powerful Trixie,” she sneered as her hands were covered by a veneer of red light. “Would you like me to show you some real power?”

Trixie tilted her chin up proudly. “Trrrixie,” she declared, “is quite powerful enough.” She threw out her free hand, palm open, as if she meant to shoot a bolt of magic at her.

But nothing happened.

Eve raised one eyebrow.

“Oh no,” Trixie murmured.

Eve rolled her eyes and flung out a hand of her own to shoot a bolt of crimson energy straight at Trixie. The bolt flew straight and true, striking her squarely in the chest.

And dispelling the illusion of herself that Trixie had cast with her semblance.

Trixie herself reappeared in the air above Eve, flinging a trio of explosive-looking canisters down at her.

Eve raised her hands, smaller blasts of power shooting from her fingertips to strike Trixie’s projectiles.

They turned out to be smoke grenades, which exploded in great clouds of purple smoke, blanketing the area around Eve with the thick, cloying smoke as it descended to the ground, settling around her.

Starlight could hear Eve starting to cough from inside the smoke cloud.

She staggered out, coughing, spluttering, eyes watering.

Ditzy charged at her from the right as she came into view, cutting her legs out from under her with a sweeping kick then following up with a punch to the jaw that knocked her sideways.

Knocked her sideways into Trixie, who closed with her from the left, one fist closed, one palm open. With her first, Trixie decked Eve across the face, snapping her head sideways, while with her open palm — and a lot of aura behind it — she thrust Eve backwards and up into the air with a cry of pain.

Ditzy followed, leaping up into the air after Eve, her body twisting in mid-air to dodge the lightning, her fists flying as she struck at Eve again and again.

“ENOUGH!” Eve yelled, as a pair of crimson bolts shot from her hands to slam into Ditzy’s chest, the range too close even for her semblance to dodge them, blasting her backwards towards the ground.

She fell, back arched, arms outstretched, and for a moment, she seemed to hang in the air, suspended, motionless.

And then the thunder rolled in the dark clouds, and lightning bolts converged on her from all directions.

There was no way that she could avoid them all.

There was a puff of blue smoke, temporarily obscuring Ditzy Doo from sight, but when the smoke cleared, it was not Ditzy hanging there, the lightning converging upon her like a pack of hounds.

It was Trixie.

Starlight tried to cry out, but only a hoarse croak would issue from her throat.

The lightning struck. Trixie cried out in pain as it rippled up and down her body, crackling and snapping, tearing at her aura, ripping at it, shredding it.

She dropped like a stone as the lightning died, head first, plummeting towards the ground.

Sunset’s stomach was like ice. A cold hand gripped it and was squeezing ever tighter. Her throat was dry, and no amount of swallowing could make it moist again, for anxiety had dried her out.

She knew in her head that she had done the right thing, that if they could take care of this one problem, then it would certainly help Arcadia Lake and might well spare Miss Pole besides. She knew that in her head, but in her heart, she hated to have left them; she felt like a coward to have done so. They had come here only for her, to help her, because Rainbow Dash had asked them to keep an eye on her, and she had left them to fight without her.

Following her heart might make her feel guilty after the fact, but it felt so much better in the moment.

Yet here she was, descending the stairs, walking briskly — so briskly that she was almost running — down the corridor, slowing a little as she entered Doctor Diggory’s laboratory, where Miss Pole lay.

Sunset couldn’t have said exactly why she had slowed down, except because of the association of this place with a hospital room, because it had a patient in it, and you weren’t supposed to run in such places.

Not that Miss Pole was in much position to object at the moment. She lay just as she had when Sunset had first — and last — seen her, laid out on the bed in a blue frock and white stockings, her blonde hair held back by a black silk hairband but splaying out behind her anyway. Her eyes were closed, and her arms were by her sides.

And in her mind…

“What is it that you intend to do, Miss Shimmer?” Doctor Diggory asked as he carefully shut the door behind them both.

Sunset looked at him over her shoulder. “Miss Pole has been … possessed,” she said, “for want of a better word. There is … a creature inside her mind. Not only is it tormenting her, but it is also responsible for this madness overtaking the town.”

She half-expected the doctor to scoff or protest, but he did not. In fact, he looked rather thoughtful, even as he half turned away from her. “I have … always thought that there is more to this world than we can explain,” he murmured. “In the mind especially. I thought that if only I could make contact with Miss Pole’s mind, touch it with my own, then I could bring her out of this state she’s in.”

Sunset turned to face him. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Doctor Diggory said. “Or at least, I thought that nothing had happened. I had nightmares; I assumed that I’d fallen asleep when the experiment didn’t work.”

“More likely, the creature that haunts her mind touched yours as well,” Sunset said. “You were lucky to wake up.”

Doctor Diggory did not reply to that. Rather, he said, “What is this creature, and how did it come to be in Miss Pole’s mind?”

“It is called a tantabus. For the how, you must ask Professor Scrub,” Sunset said. She had no compunctions whatsoever about dropping him in it; in fact, she could think of few people who deserved it more. “He had enlisted Miss Pole in some of his research.”

“I see,” Doctor Diggory growled. “If we come out of this alive, I will certainly seek an explanation from him.” He paused for a moment. “You never told me what you intend to do.”

Sunset took off her jacket, dumping it roughly upon the floor. Aided by telekinesis, she unstrapped the vambrace from her right wrist and dropped that down upon the jacket. Then she realised that she probably ought not to be leaving things on the floor where a man with a limp and a bad back would be walking, so she lifted them both up with her telekinesis and put them on the chair. Then she pulled off the glove from her same right hand. It felt … right, or perhaps necessary, that she should use her whole hand for this.

“My semblance allows me to … it’s empathy, or touch telepathy, or perhaps a mixture of the two,” Sunset said. “I haven’t trained it as much as I should … or at all, but I think it’s our best chance to reach Miss Pole and defeat the tantabus.” She walked towards her, standing over the unconscious girl. “Doctor Diggory, will you monitor Miss Pole’s condition?”

“Of course,” Doctor Diggory replied. “If it becomes dangerous—”

“Break the connection,” Sunset said. “It should leave us both with no ill effects.”

Although it will still leave us with the tantabus problem.

There wasn’t much point worrying about that until it happened. For now, best to focus on Plan A.

Doctor Diggory nodded. “I wish you luck, Miss Shimmer.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sunset murmured. She looked down at her hand, and then at the unconscious Miss Pole.

Sunset took a deep breath and placed her hand on top of the girl’s forehead.

Her whole body stiffened as the world turned white around her.

Sadness.

That was what Sunset felt as she floated in nothingness: an intense sadness, a sadness that made her want to weep, a sadness that did cause her to weep, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It was all around her, this melancholy; it filled the air, it surrounded her like an ocean in which she swam, it was everywhere.

It was the universe.

And someone else was sad too. Sunset could hear them sobbing. She couldn’t see anything, not yet, there was nothing here but whiteness, but she could hear, the sobbing coming from all around her.

She should have cried out, she wanted to cry out, but the weight of sadness all around her almost made her fear that if she opened her mouth, the sorrow would fill her lungs like water, and she would drown in it.

Gradually, the world filled up again, the white void that had surrounded her transforming into a room. It looked more like an apartment than the room of a house, the kind of place where the front door leads straight into everywhere, with only the barest divisions between the kitchen, the living space, and so on and so forth — perhaps the kitchen doesn’t have carpet on the floor. The kind of place where the only walls are the ones that hive off the bedrooms — although she had to admit that even that was more than could be said of a Beacon dorm room, so she probably shouldn’t look down on such places. In any case, Sunset supposed that even if it looked like an apartment, it could still be a house, just one where the homeowner had decided that they weren’t a fan of interior walls and knocked them all down so that they could roam more freely.

It was, it had to be admitted, a nice-looking place, wherever it was, with a modern wooden floor — the difference between that and an old-fashioned wooden floor of course being whether the floorboards creaked; also how dark or light the wood was — and bright, crisp lights, and white plastic bucket seats that sat very high up on gleaming metal poles.

It looked like a show home, pristine and perfect and devoid of any of the little homely touches that a place acquires simply by the act of being lived in.

And yet, someone lived there, for people appeared there before Sunset’s eyes. She knew their names; they appeared in her mind just as she had known the names of Cinder’s stepmother and stepsisters without needing to be introduced. The stern woman standing in the kitchenette, her bouffant hair turning grey, her features sharp and her green eyes cold, wearing a long maroon coat and a white fur stole around her neck, that was Aunt Augusta.

And the two people, the blond-haired man in the tan brown suit and the black haired woman in the black dress, heading out of the doors, they were Mama and Papa.

They were Miss Pole’s parents, rather.

And the girl sobbing on the floor as they went, her hair falling down around her face, covering it as much as she was covering it with her hands, that was Miss Pole.

“Don’t go,” she whispered in between her sobs. “Mama, Papa, please don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

“It’s for the best, dear,” Papa— her father said, without looking back at her. “Vacuo is no place for a child.”

“Please,” Plum Pole pleaded. “Please don’t leave me.”

Ma— her mother stopped and began to look back at her daughter.

“This is the only responsible course of action,” Aunt Augusta declared, her voice cold and rich and fruity. “Vacuo is no place for a child. Being waited on hand and foot by the natives will spoil the girl, and she seems to have been spoiled quite enough already. Rest assured, I will take her in hand, for her own good.”

Miss Pole’s mother was still for a moment, and then she turned away.

Her father opened the door.

“Please!” Miss Pole cried. “Mama, Papa, please—”

They left, shutting the door behind them.

Miss Pole bowed her head, her whole body trembling. “Please don’t go,” she whispered.

“Don’t just sit there like a disappointed fat boy,” Aunt Augusta said witheringly. “Go to your room, at once. And stay there until I say otherwise.”

Miss Pole rose slowly to her feet, shaking slightly from side to side, tears falling from her face to patter like raindrops upon the varnished wooden floor.

And then it started again.

“Please don’t go.”

And then it started again.

“Don’t just sit there like a disappointed fat boy.”

And then it started again.

“She seems to have been spoiled quite enough already.”

And then it started again.

“This is for the best.”

And then it started again.

Sunset didn’t want to keep seeing this; she didn’t want to keep feeling what Miss Pole felt, to be abandoned over and over again, left to the mercy of a woman who, while she might never admit that she disliked her niece, certainly didn’t dislike taking her in hand for her own good.

She didn’t want to keep being forced to watch, to feel, to relive by proxy over and over again.

There was nothing worse than to be abandoned by your … to have the one who should have loved you the most turn away from you and cast you aside.

Sunset could only imagine how much worse it must feel to someone who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

Actually, that was a lie. Sunset could do a lot more than just imagine; she could feel everything that Plum Pole felt, and it was breaking her heart.

It was all she could do not to turn away.

But she couldn’t turn away; she had to find the tantabus. No wonder it had grown so strong here, with such a fertile mind. This must have been Miss Pole’s recurring nightmare, forced to relive her parents’ rejection of her night after night. Yes, a tantabus would feed fat upon such sorrow.

But where was it? It could not have escaped already.

Sunset heard the slight scraping sound of a window open. She turned to face the back of the house, looking past Aunt Augusta to one of the windows, open now, opened by the dark shape, a kind of liquid cloud, viscous and amorphous, the edges moving like waves, that was trying to climb out of said window.

Sunset raised her hand, the glow of magic surrounding it as she slammed the window shut again.

The tantabus turned, silently, and darted away, aiming for the bedrooms.

Sunset teleported across the house, appearing in front of the tantabus, hands raised. She fired bolts of magic from both her palms, striking the dream creature and knocking it back. She pursued it, advancing with a steady and relentless pace, firing bolt after bolt into the tantabus’ cloudy form, driving it back, driving it down, blasting it over and over again until it was a small, diminished, cowering shape in the corner of the house, curled up on itself as though it were hugging itself for protection.

Sunset gathered her magic in the palm of her hand. One more solid hit should finish it off.

“Please!” Miss Pole cried.

The tantabus grew again, expanding to the size it had been before Sunset started her attack, and as it grew, it lunged at Sunset, knocking her off her feet and onto her tailbone with a thump that left her backside aching. It didn’t bother to open the window this time; it just smashed the glass like an action hero as it made to fly out.

Sunset conjured a magical barrier just beyond the window, then disrupted it, causing an explosion of energy that flung the tantabus backwards and into the house.

“Don’t just sit there like a disappointed fat boy.”

Sunset hurled a beam of magic at the tantabus, but this time, it simply split itself, forming a hole in its own form through which Sunset’s magic passed harmlessly to singe the floor of the dream home.

Sunset growled, baring her teeth as she spread her hands out wide on either side of her, spears of magic forming all around her, a halo of weapons which she flung in a storm of power towards her target.

And the tantabus simply opened itself up, that Sunset’s power flew through it and harmed it not.

And it headed once more for the broken window.

Sunset cast a shield all around it this time, a bubble of emerald energy enfolding it completely, trapping it in place.

“Split yourself to avoid that,” Sunset muttered.

And yet at the same time, she knew that this was only a temporary solution. Already, the tantabus had begun to pound against her shield, and she couldn’t hold it indefinitely — that wasn’t even a simple question of power; that was a question of the fact that she didn’t want to be trapped in Miss Pole’s mind forever.

She couldn’t keep the tantabus confined, and she couldn’t destroy it with magic.

Sunset turned back to Miss Pole, sobbing on the floor.

The only person who could destroy the tantabus was her.

Delicately, keeping one arm raised, keeping half a mind upon her magic in order to maintain the spell that bound the tantabus, Sunset walked across the room. The exchange was playing out again, and once it had done so, it would play out again, and again, and again.

Unless Sunset could stop it.

“Miss Pole,” Sunset said gently as she walked towards the crying girl.

“Mama, Papa, please don’t go.”

“Miss Pole?” Sunset asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Don’t leave me here.”

Sunset crossed in front of her, so that if Miss Pole had noticed her presence, she would have realised that Sunset was between her and her parents. “Miss Pole!” she said loudly.

“Please,” Miss Pole murmured. “Please don’t leave me.”

Sunset knelt down in front of the girl, hunching her back to herself even smaller, even closer to her height. A sigh escaped her as her ears drooped and her tail went limp.

“Plum,” she said gently, attempting to ignore the frantic raging of the tantabus in its prison. “Plum, can you hear me?”

Plum gasped, looking up at Sunset with tear-filled eyes. “Wh-who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset said. “And I’m here to take you home.”

“Home?” Plum whispered. “But … but I—”

“What’s the last thing that you remember?” Sunset asked gently.

“I … I don’t…” Plum trailed off. “Professor Scrub said … he said I couldn’t leave without accepting a present.”

“A yellow ring,” Sunset said, her voice close to a growl.

You know, being in this place, for the first time since I left Atlas, I really understand Cinder’s point of view; there are a lot of people who deserve a gleeful, smiling death.

Plum nodded. “That’s right.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she said. “For everything that has happened to you. But it’s time to wake up now. You … you don’t have to be sad anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Plum asked.

Sunset frowned slightly and pointed at the tantabus, beating against the shield that restrained it. “That … that’s called a tantabus,” she said. “It’s feeding on your sadness, on your nightmares, and as it gets stronger, it's causing nightmares across your village, and worse than nightmares. Living nightmares. And if it gets strong enough, it will spread those living nightmares across the waking world. I can’t stop that from happening, but you can. Without you, without your sorrow, it will have no more power and everyone will be safe.”

“So … so I have to stop being sad?” Plum asked.

“Pretty much, yes.”

Plum was silent for a moment. “But I am sad,” she whispered.

“I know,” Sunset softly. “And I understand—”

“No, you don’t!” Plum cried. “You don’t understand, nobody does, how could you?”

“Because I feel what you’re feeling,” Sunset declared. “And because I know what it’s like to watch the person you love most in the whole world turn away from you.”

“Do you also know what it’s like to be all alone?” Plum demanded. “To have nobody, nobody who’d miss you, nobody who cares about you?”

“Is that what you think?” Sunset asked. “Is that what you believe?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Plum asked.

Sunset was quiet for a moment. “Tell me about Malmsey Scrub,” she said.

“Malmsey,” Plum murmured. “I thought … I thought he understood. I thought … he found me crying once; I thought he was going to laugh at me, but … but he didn’t.” She smiled. “I used to rush to finish my breakfast so that I could get out of the house and spend time with him, and I used to hate having to go back in for dinner because I wouldn’t see him again until the next day. But then his uncle—”

“That wasn’t his fault,” Sunset said.

“Wasn’t it?

“No,” Sunset insisted. “Do you know what Malmsey has been doing while you’ve been asleep? Just like you used to spend every day with him, well, since then, he’s spent every day travelling back to the place where you were attacked, trying to find a cure for your condition. Every single day, every chance he got, going back and back. If he had … I had to go and rescue him too because he got himself in trouble there; he’s broken his leg, he won’t be able to walk for a little while, and even then, the only thing that mattered to him was whether you were going to be okay — and whether you hated him for letting this happen to you.

“You’re not alone, Plum Pole. I know that you’ve been abandoned, and I know how much that hurts, but you’re not alone anymore. You’ve found someone, someone who … who’ll see you crying and not laugh, someone who will try and help you, no matter what it costs, someone who cares with every fibre of their being.” She smiled, and held out one hand. “Now, is that something worth waking up to?”

The tantabus thrashed and writhed behind Plum, but it seemed weaker now, smaller, diminished, its blows having less impact on the shield than they had done.

Plum began to reach for Sunset’s hand, but hesitated. “If … if I wake up,” she said, “do I have to go back to my Aunt Augusta?”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, you won’t ever have to go back there again, I promise.”

Plum looked down at the floor, then wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she said gently. “I think I’m ready now.”

She placed her fingers in the palm of Sunset’s hand.

The tantabus stopped struggling. It went still, utterly and completely still, hanging limp and listless inside the shield. And then it began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of it at all.

Sunset smiled as her fingers closed around Plum’s hand.

And then the world went white.

Ditzy caught Trixie as she fell; she cradled Trixie in her arms, bridal style, as she landed on her feet, which felt a lot gentler than landing on her head would have done, Trixie was sure.

“Are you okay?” Ditzy asked.

“Never better,” Trixie croaked.

“I … I don’t understand,” Ditzy said. “Why did you—?”

“Canterlot Girl, remember,” Trixie murmured. “That’s what we do.”

Eve landed on the ground, her long coat fluttering a little behind her. “How long are we going to continue this farce?” she demanded.

Trixie was starting to wonder that herself. It was clear that, for all their bravado and as much as Trixie really, really hated to admit it, they were kind of outmatched here. Eve was just too powerful. Too strong. She had magic, and that magic was a whole lot more impressive than anything that Trixie could muster against her. Starlight, Ditzy … they were no slouches, but Eve had taken them both on and didn’t look any the worse for wear.

Maybe if they could have gotten her crown or necklace or gauntlets away from her like Sunset said, but how were they supposed to do that?

Great and Powerful, Great and Powerful, the words seemed like mockery now in Trixie’s head, echoing in her mind like the laughter of a derisory crowd.

She didn’t want it to end like this. She really didn’t want it to end like this. She wanted to rise, she wanted to shine, she wanted to be the greatest huntress in Atlas, the greatest that Atlas had ever seen. She could do it, she knew she could, it wasn’t all just the dream of a…

Dream…

Dream!

“Ditzy,” Trixie said. “Put me down?”

“Are you sure?” Ditzy asked anxiously.

“Quite sure,” Trixie said.

Ditzy set her down upon the ground. Trixie’s legs felt a little unsteady beneath her — she was glad that her boots were flat instead of heels, or this would have been harder — but she was able to keep her feet, and even walk a couple of steps away from Ditzy.

She ostentatiously straightened her hat and cloak as she stared at Eve. She flicked her slightly frazzled looking hair.

“You want to stop?” she asked. “Very well, Trixie would be happy to discuss your surrender, if that is what you wish.”

A wordless snarl rose from Eve’s throat. “You … who in Tartarus do you think you are?”

“Trixie Lulamoon,” Trixie said. “Trixie Artemis Lulamoon. Otherwise known as the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrixie! So come on and give it your best shot!”

Eve spread out her hands on either side of her, as the thunder rolled and growled and rumbled.

More lightning lanced down from the clouds straight at Trixie.

Trixie smirked as she raised one hand.

And caught the lightning.

It did not hurt her. She barely even felt it; it was like static electricity, and mild static at that. The lightning did not ripple down her body, it did not shock her, it did not fry her. It was like her hand was a lightning rod; no, more than that, it was as though she had a power over the lightning equal to Eve’s own. She gathered the lightning in the palm of her hand, holding it there as it swirled eagerly all around, and then, still smirking, she lowered her hand until it was pointing at Eve.

And then she unleashed the lightning, sending it leaping from her hand in streams to strike at her enemy. Eve conjured up a shield to absorb the lightning, but her shield shattered like glass, literally forming shards of glass that tumbled to the ground as the lightning struck home, rippling up and down Eve’s body as she was tossed up into the air and hurled backwards, rolling even once she had landed on the ground.

Eve lay on the rocky surface for a moment, panting. She looked at Trixie with astonishment in her eyes.

Trixie stuck out her tongue.

Eve’s face contorted into a snarl as she leapt to her feet, both hands wreathed in the glow that was a signature of the kind of magic Eve and Sunset used as she fired a broad beam, red as blood, straight at Trixie.

A thick rock wall rose in front of Trixie, the ground splitting in front of her, a barrier emerging to take the impact of the magic.

“Perfect timing, Maud,” Trixie said.

“No problem,” Maud said, her voice quiet and without emotion. She was down on one knee, her hands — clad in her enormous grey power gauntlets — pressed against the ground.

“Maud Pie?” Ditzy gasped. “What are you doing here?”

Because this is a dream, and since we’re all trapped in a dream, then why should we be bound by the constraints of petty reality? Trixie thought. Why shouldn’t I be able to catch lightning in my hands, why shouldn’t Maud be here to help us, why shouldn’t Rainbow be here as well?

And indeed, Rainbow was here, rushing down the street, leaving a rainbow trail behind her as she got up into Eve’s face and unloaded a barrage of punches on her, fists a blur as she struck their enemy in the face, in the gut, everywhere that she could reach, forcing her backwards under the unrelenting force of her assault.

Eve raised her hands protectively, covering her face with her spiked gauntlets, falling back in the face of Rainbow’s savagery.

Trixie teleported behind her — because she could do that all the time now, and why not? — and thrust out her hand towards the retreating Eve. Little balls of fire, blue flames flickering in the air, each about half the size of Trixie’s palm, appeared in a ring around her hand.

Trixie pointed at Eve, and one by one, each of the little fireballs leapt towards their target like bullets from a gun, streaking through the darkness to strike Eve in the back in a torrent of explosions.

Eve cried out, her guard dropping as she staggered from the assault.

Rainbow struck her with an uppercut to the jaw, the sound of her aura boom echoing throughout the village as Eve was launched upwards into the air.

Into the air where Maud was already waiting for her, her enormous gauntlets, each the size of an anvil, wreathed in lightning.

She brought that fist down onto Eve’s stomach.

Eve was slammed back down to earth hard enough that the earth itself cracked beneath her, blood spurting from her mouth as her aura shattered.

Maud landed on the ground and placed her hands upon the ground as the earth moulded and reformed around Eve’s arms and legs to restrain her.

Trixie held out her hand and telekinetically ripped the circlet from Eve’s brow, the necklace from around her throat, and the gauntlets from off her hands, because she’s always been so jealous that Twilight could do that.

They were wreathed in blue energy as they flew through the air towards her.

And as they flew, the dome, the crimson barrier that separated Arcadia Lake from the rest of Vale, shattered into a million million fragments which fell for a moment, hung for another moment suspended in the air, and then simply vanished altogether from sight.

“No!” Eve howled, struggling futilely against her earthen bonds. “How dare you touch them?! Give them back to me you, you insect! You worthless maggot! I will kill you! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

Trixie ignored her, focussing upon the accessories that she was pulling towards her with her mind.

And then they dropped to the ground at her feet. Maud and Rainbow Dash disappeared, and so did Mountain Glenn. The rocky ceiling was gone, replaced by the stars and the night sky. The additional houses, the tall black towers, the black rock on which they had stood, the ruined cars and makeshift barricades, all gone. Nothing remained but Arcadia Lake, the picturesque village on the water.

Sunset, it seemed, had done it. The nightmare was ended, and ended too all their dreams.

Except for the ones we work towards, of course.

Of course, the rock holding Eve fast had also disappeared, and so she rose unsteadily to her feet, wiping away the blood from her mouth with one bare hand.

She was breathing heavily, and her hair was a mess, and if looks could kill, then Trixie would have been dead of the glare that she was giving her.

She reached out her hand towards her gauntlets, circlet, and collar, and the hand that reached began to be surrounded with a crimson glow.

Ditzy leapt towards her, fist drawn back.

Eve half-turned and saw her doom descending.

There was a crack and a flash of red light as she teleported away.

And Trixie had no more sight of her.

Sunset teleported into Professor Scrub’s study as soon as she could. As soon as she recovered her sense of where she was, as soon as she saw Miss Pole open her eyes, as soon as it was confirmed that she had succeeded, she was gone. She ignored the professor’s cry of surprise as she appeared in his room, and lifted up all his magic rings in the grip of her telekinesis.

She held them in the air for a moment, gold and green alike hovering in front of her. How easy it would be to keep a pair, to have the means on hand of going home whenever she liked, to be able to come and go like a cat. Breakfast at Beacon, tea in Canterlot, then back to Beacon for bed; weekends at home, then back to school for the week. She could even become a sort of day pupil, commuting to school each morning and back at night. No, that would probably be a little much, but the fact was that she would have so many choices, and all she had to do was keep the rings, just one set of rings.

But even just one set of rings could be stolen, could fall into the wrong hands, could expose Equestria to absolutely anyone.

And the risk of that was too great to be outweighed by any notion of her own comfort.

Sunset closed her eyes and steeled her heart and let a beam of emerald magic fly from her palm to capture all the professor’s rings, all the products of his life of study, in its blast. In the blast that consumed them all.

Professor Scrub had fashioned the rings from dust, and now to dust, Sunset returned them once again.

She also blasted a hole in Professor Scrub’s wall, but frankly, he had that coming.

“NO!” Eve shrieked as she teleported in behind Sunset. “What … what have you done?”

Sunset turned to face her. “I’ve done what I thought was best, for Equestria.”

“For Equestria,” Eve murmured. She was not wearing the dark regalia, Sunset saw; the Atlesians must have managed to get them off her. “I … I needed that.” She bowed her head, and Sunset was astonished to hear a sob escape her, to see her body wracked with a tremor.

“And that is why I had to destroy them,” Sunset said.

“I want to go home,” Eve moaned.

“After a thousand years, is this not your home?” Sunset demanded. “Evenfall, I … I know not what you have done in all those years, but I know that you were once a unicorn mage, a philosopher of magic, renowned for your skill, admired for your virtue. Think, I beg of you, what good you could do here, what wonders you might achieve, how well you might serve the people of this land. Please, we have sore need of one such as you.”

Over a thousand years had Evenfall Gleaming; she was older than Princess Celestia, who had been a mere youth and student when Evenfall was at the height of her powers. How much had she seen in that time? If she would consent to join with them, then why should she not lead their struggle against Salem? Surely, Professor Ozpin would recognise the advantages of an immortal leader in their war, someone who could truly pursue a strategy over many lifetimes.

Would it not be a wondrous thing if, for once, an Equestria visitor to Remnant proved to be a blessing, not a curse?

Eve looked up at her; her eyes, though they were filled with tears, were yet sharp enough that her gaze grew talons, and her teeth were bared like a wild dog.

“What I shall do,” Eve snarled, “what revenges I shall wreak upon you and your friends, I yet know not, but they shall be the terrors of Remnant! I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you!”

She teleported away, leaving Sunset with the terrible impression that they would meet again.

Something to worry about later. For now … for now, we won.

We won, and I have promises to keep.

“M-Miss Shimmer,” Professor Scrub stammered. “You … surely there was no need to—”

“Shut up, Professor,” Sunset said. “The fact that I have no desire to publicise the existence of Equestria is the only reason you’re going to get away with any of this — although Doctor Diggory knows that you’re responsible for Miss Pole’s recent condition, so I’d watch out for him if I were you.”

Professor Scrub whimpered.

Sunset took a deep breath. “Speaking of Miss Pole,” she added, looking at Malmsey, “she’s woken up, and she’d like to see you. I can take you there, if you’d like.”

Malmsey’s eyes widened. “Yes, please!” he cried.

So Sunset scooped him up in her arms and carried him across the village, where people were now emerging back into the streets, looking around them as if normalcy had become so strange to them that they must marvel at it, and back to Doctor Diggory’s great house.

Miss Pole was waiting for them outside. “Malmsey!” she cried, and rushed up to them as Sunset and her passenger drew near.

“Plum!” Malmsey shouted. “You’re awake.”

“Yes,” Plum agreed. She smiled. “I’m told that you spent all your time trying to save me.”

Malmsey laughed nervously. “Well, I tried, but I can’t really say I did anything.”

“But you did try,” Plum said, reaching out to take his hand. “So thank you.” She frowned a little. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“It was nothing, really,” Malmsey insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, young man,” Doctor Diggory declared. “At least, until a real town doctor arrives, which shouldn’t be too long, now that that wretched dome is gone. We should be able to make contact with Vale now.”

“One can only hope, Doctor,” Sunset said.

“But in the meantime,” Doctor Diggory said, “would you mind carrying Mister Scrub inside? You can stay in the guest bedroom for the time being.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Sunset said. “And, Doctor Diggory?”

“Yes, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset glanced down at Plum Pole for a moment. “You told me once that Miss Pole was in your charge; I would ask that she continue to be so, at least for the time being.”

Plum beamed.

Doctor Diggory gasped. “I would be glad too, Miss Shimmer, so long as Miss Pole doesn’t object—”

“Yes, please!” Plum cried. “I mean, thank you, Doctor Diggory.”

Doctor Diggory chuckled. “But what about your aunt?”

“Leave that to me, Doctor,” Sunset said. “Miss Pole, do you trust me?”

Plum hesitated for a moment, then nodded vigorously. “Yes. I do.”

“Good,” Sunset said.

It was not that the spell wouldn’t work otherwise, but it felt right that she should ask. She held up one hand, magic gathering around it, wreathing it in a green light. She prepared the spell, the same spell that she had used on Pyrrha once in order to draw the attention of the gawkers in the street away from her. What she wanted now was a more limited usage, not to make everyone in Arcadia Lake forget about her, but only one specific person: her aunt.

She touched Miss Pole gently on the forehead and cast the spell.

A green light ran from Miss Pole through the crowd, heading off into the village in the direction of Aunt Augusta.

“That tickles!” Plum cried.

“It will tickle you aunt too,” Sunset said. “And she will not come to take you away, I guarantee it.”

“Well, it has been a long time since I had guests to stay,” Doctor Diggory said. “But I daresay that Mrs. Macready and I will muddle through. Do children still like cake?”

Sunset carried Malmsey inside and set him up in the guest bedroom.

When she got back outside again, she found Trixie, Starlight, and Ditzy waiting for her. Starlight was leaning on Ditzy, one arm draped across her shoulders. Trixie was looking a little unsteady on her feet. But they were all okay; they were alive.

Everyone was alive.

Everybody lives. This time, everybody lives!

“I’m glad to see you made it,” Sunset said.

“Just about,” Starlight groaned.

“Trixie was amazing!” Ditzy cried.

Trixie swept her hat off her head and bowed — and then lost her balance and tumbled to her knees. “Uh, you’re welcome,” she muttered. She looked up at Sunset. “Although we did lose Eve.”

“But you saved everyone,” Sunset replied. “That’s what counts. I see that you got the dar— the circle, collar, and gauntlets off her.”

Trixie spread them out on the ground in front of her. “Just about. What should we do with them?”

Sunset knelt down in front of them. The Crown Dominate, the Lightning Collar, and the Armilla Superior all lay before her. The strength of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies all lay before.

Dark magic lay before her. Who knew what Evenfall had done to craft these monstrous devices?

Did it matter? Whatever it had done, it was a thousand years and more hence; the end products were before her now, and might it not be said that time had washed them clear of all sin and fault?

What might she do with magics such as these? What might she not do with this power at her fingertips? Her magic strengthened immeasurably, as Eve’s had been? Just think what Eve had been able to do, to cast a shield over so vast an area and then to do other magic besides as though the shield were nothing, a trifle, a petty distraction requiring little thought. And then to add the powers of pegasi too and earth ponies beside? She would be as strong as Pyrrha, and as fast — faster maybe. In this war in which they were engaged, against such foes as they were matched withal, did they not need not all the power that they could muster?

And with such power at her command, she would not suffer so much fear and doubt, none of them would. Pyrrha need not be afraid, none of them would.

Such power, and so close at hand, she need only reach out and take it. It called to her. It whispered to her with seductive promises; she could hear them in her ears and in her mind. What might she not do? She would give this world the security that it required, and with her glory, rally all men to her banner.

She would give Remnant the leadership that it had been so sorely lacking, give the sheep a benevolent shepherd to watch over them.

“Sunset?” Starlight asked.

Sunset realised that she had been reaching for the dark regalia. She drew back her hand, shaking her head from side to side. “I…” She paused.

Perhaps she ought to destroy them. Perhaps that would be the safest course, as with the rings, to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.

But it stuck in her craw to destroy such a gift to the foes of Salem; even if they were not used regularly, even if it were perilous to use them — they were talking about dark magic, after all — surely, it would be better to have them, to keep them safe and sound … and use in darkest, direst need.

“I will take them,” Sunset said. “And keep them safe.”

“Are you sure?” Starlight asked.

“Yes,” Sunset barked, a little louder and more sharply than she had intended. She softened her tone. “Yes. They are … my power is of a similar sort to Eve’s, I can understand these things. I can manage them. Trust me, I will make sure no ill comes of them, from them … or to them.”

“Very well,” Trixie said. “That sounds for the best.” She took a deep breath. “So, what now?”

“Now,” Sunset replied. “We can go home.”

Back (New)

Back

Starlight pulled out her chair and sat down. “You know, as good as it is for you to treat us all like this, I am a little curious as to why.”

Sunset sat down herself. The four huntresses who had returned from Arcadia Lake were now ensconced in Benni Haven’s; they had stolen back to Beacon in the early evening, like thieves slipping in under cover of darkness, and instead of going straight back to their waiting dorm rooms and their beds, Sunset had guided them to the restaurant on the outskirts of the grounds. Luckily for her, it was still open; even more luckily for her, it was mostly empty at the moment, with only a few tables occupied by students Sunset didn’t know.

Benni had given them a warmer welcome than Sunset suspected she was going to get from her teammates when she showed her face — Pyrrha had stopped leaving messages, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be questions once Sunset was in a position where simply not answering wasn’t an option — and had showed them to a table more or less in the middle of the restaurant, with an internal divider standing against the left hand side of the table where Trixie and Ditzy were sitting opposite one another. Starlight sat by Trixie, while Sunset sat by Ditzy, opposite Starlight. As they had not yet returned to school, they still had their weapons with them: Sol Invictus and Soteria were propped up against the table beside Sunset, while Starlight’s Equaliser was underneath the table at her feet; Trixie’s wand was at her side next to her fork, and of course, Ditzy had no weapons but those that nature had bestowed on her.

Menus sat in front of each of them, while Benni had already taken their drinks orders.

Sunset rested her fingertips upon the menu before her, not opening it, just resting her fingers on the coated cardboard. “Would you like an honest answer to that question?”

“That would probably be for the best, yeah,” Starlight replied.

“I don’t want to face my teammates,” Sunset said. “I don’t want to have to explain to them where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing so … I’m putting it off.”

Starlight sighed. “You can’t put it off forever, Sunset.”

“I know that,” Sunset replied. “But I can put it off for the next … however long, maybe an hour, if I’m lucky.”

“Sunset,” Starlight said reproachfully.

“Do you want me to treat you to supper or not?” Sunset asked.

“Trixie certainly won’t refuse,” Trixie declared. “Starlight, stop making our host regret her generosity.”

“Trixie!” cried Starlight reproachfully.

“Leave her be, Starlight, or at least back off from her a little,” Trixie insisted. She looked Sunset in the eye. “Sometimes, there’s nothing harder than admitting a mistake, is there?”

“You think I’m worried because I’ll have to admit I was wrong?” asked Sunset.

“Don’t you think you were wrong?” responded Trixie.

Sunset allowed a gap of silence — Benni Haven’s was not absolutely silent, but with so few customers, the general hubbub of conversation was rather diminished — into which Ditzy could interject.

“You guys never told me what you were doing there,” she pointed out. “Although I guess I didn’t really give you a chance with the way I acted.”

“We came to help,” Starlight replied. “And to find out why comms had been lost with Arcadia Lake; because of the dome, as it turns out. How are we going to explain all of this?”

“We say that Eve was the one jamming communications, that she was a grimm cultist who intended to offer up Arcadia Lake as a sacrifice to the grimm, so she used lures to draw them in, where they killed the huntsman hired by the village and the other two members of Team Eden,” Trixie said, rattling off the words quickly without time for the thoughts to be spontaneous. She’d clearly been giving this some thought. “We fought our way through to the village, uncovered her plot, destroyed Eve’s grimm lures, and repelled the attack. Eve fled when her plan failed, and we were too beat from dealing with the grimm to stop her. That’s what we say.”

Sunset folded her arms. “You’ve thought that through, haven’t you?”

Trixie shrugged. “Much as Trixie would like nothing better than for the existence of magic to be an acknowledged fact which the world could no longer deny … Trixie does not believe that this is the right time for that. The right time is under stage lights, making people smile, not under a dome of evil concealing a living nightmare, literally. So, that being the case, we need an explanation that small, closed minds can accept. This story casts Eve as the villain she was, if not quite in the exact way she was, allowing everyone to be on the lookout for her if she reappears, it explains the disappearance of the rest of Team Eden while ensuring that they’ll be remembered as the heroes I’m sure they were, and gives us roughly as much credit as we deserve for our efforts while at the same time avoiding any awkward questions.”

“Unless anyone from Arcadia Lake starts talking about living nightmares,” Starlight pointed out.

“The grimm are a living nightmare, are they not?” Trixie asked. “Any wild talk from the citizens will be seen as merely trauma from the shocking experience they’ve endured.”

“You have thought this through,” Sunset commented.

“But of course. Trixie isn’t just a pretty face with great hair, you know,” Trixie said.

Starlight pursed her lips together. “They’re your teammates, Ditzy; how do you feel about it?”

Ditzy was quiet for a moment. Her hands were folded upon the table. “Ellie and Nick … you really think they’ll be remembered as heroes?”

“They gave their lives to defend a village from the grimm,” Trixie said. “What else could have been asked of them?”

Ditzy didn’t look at Trixie, or at any of them. “I think they deserve that.”

“Then it’s settled,” Trixie declared. “That’s our story, and we’ll stick to it.”

Starlight reached across the table, placing her hand on top of Ditzy’s wrist. “What about you, Ditzy? What are you going to do now?”

“Here you go, kids; I’ve got your drinks right here,” Benni said, bustling up to their table with a black tray balanced upon the palm of one hand. “Sorry that it took a little while.”

“It’s not a problem,” Sunset assured her.

“Okay, so … we’ve got a double espresso for the Great and Powerful Trixie,” Benni said, with a smile in one corner of her mouth.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I don’t know how you can drink that at this time of night,” Starlight said as Benni put the cup down in front of Trixie. “You won’t sleep.”

“Whatever, Mom,” Trixie replied.

“Which is why it makes sense that you have the cucumber lime mocktail,” Benni said as she placed down in front of Starlight a glass, with condensation starting to form on the outside, with a pale green liquid visible inside beneath the crushed ice. “Then we’ve got a strawberry milkshake for Sunset and an orange juice for you — who I don’t think I’ve seen around here before,” she added, as she put down Sunset and Ditzy’s drinks in front of them.

“No,” Ditzy murmured. “This is my first time.” She looked up at Benni Haven. “It looks like a real nice place, though.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Benni replied, holding the black tray — now empty — in both hands, pressed against her upper legs. “Maybe you can bring the rest of your team with you next time.”

Ditzy looked away. “No,” she said. “No, I can’t.”

Benni’s face fell. “Oh, gods,” she murmured. “Kiddo, I … I’m so sorry. I know how little it helps to hear that, believe me, but … I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ditzy murmured.

“No,” Benni replied. “It isn’t. Maybe it will be, some day, but right now, it’s not, and you don’t have to pretend like it is.”

Ditzy was silent for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Benny scratched the back of her head with her prosthetic hand. “This life … like I said to Sunset when she came in here for the very first time: these smiles don’t last forever. I see kids come in here, so bright-eyed, so eager, so brave; I take their pictures, and I stick them up on my wall to remember them that way … because they never stay that way. This life … it takes from you kids for the sake of the world; it takes your smiles, it takes your joy, and in the end, it takes your lives as well, for lots of you.”

“But it’s worth it, right?” Starlight asked. “Because it’s for the sake of the world.”

Benni hesitated for a moment. “There comes a point,” she said, “when you’ll have to answer that for yourselves and decide if this road with all its risks is really the road you want to go down.” Again, she paused. “What were their names, Ditzy?”

“Huh?” Ditzy asked.

“Your teammates,” Benni explained. “What were their names?”

Ditzy swallowed. “Ellie and Nick,” she said. “Ellie Macra and Nick Bryce.”

Benni’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said that your whole team was—”

“Her team leader is…” — Sunset hesitated momentarily — “part of the reason the others are gone.”

“Gods and spirits,” Benni muttered. “You’ve had it rough, kid. These things happen, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that happening so young. Even if it is the life, you’re still too young for this. What’s your school?”

“Haven,” Ditzy replied quietly.

“And your team?”

“Team Eden.”

“Right,” Benni said, and she turned away for a moment to bang on a nearby empty table with her robotic fist, making a loud thumping sound that echoed through the quiet restaurant and made everyone inside jump a little.

“Okay, listen up!” Benni yelled, her voice striking the wooden roof above them. “We lost two good people. Two kids, just like you. And I want you all to think about that, because next time, it could be you. Even if you do everything right, even if you watch each others' backs, even if you look before you leap and don’t do anything stupid, it could still be you. So raise what you got to Ellie Macra and Nick Bryce, of Team Eden from Haven Academy. Ellie and Nick!”

It took a moment, but gradually, amidst the sound of scraping chairs and legs knocking against tables, the other students dining in the restaurant all got to their feet, all raising cups or mugs or glasses in their hands.

“Ellie and Nick,” they murmured.

“Ellie and Nick,” Sunset said softly, raising her glass.

“Ellie and Nick,” Starlight and Trixie both said as one, raising glass and cup respectively.

“May they rest in peace and live in memory,” Benni muttered.

One by one, the other students around began to sit down, returning to their meals, their drinks, their conversations; the level of chatter inside Benni Haven’s rose until it was again at a soft ambient level.

Sunset put down her milkshake and waited a discreet moment or two before putting her lips around the straw and sucking. It was cold and viscous and just what she’d wanted.

Benni grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the edge of their table and sat down there, next to Starlight and Sunset.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but I’ve seen this kind of thing before; I might be able to offer you some advice. You don’t have to take it — Team Bluebell didn’t — but it doesn’t cost you anything to listen to it.”

“'Bluebell'?” Sunset asked. “You spoke to Team Bluebell?”

Benni nodded. “They come in here often enough. I feel sorry for them; losing Sky has hurt, clearly. It’s hurt them a lot. I think that’s why … well, that’s their business, and I’m here for Ditzy, if you want me.”

“I…” Ditzy began. “What kind of advice?”

“About what you do next,” Benni said. “About what you want to do next. Do you still want to be a huntress?”

Ditzy nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do. I want to help people. I want to help because I can, because my semblance lets me, and that means that if I don’t help people and bad stuff happens, then … then that’s on me, isn’t it?”

Benni nodded. “Spoken like a true huntress,” she said softly. “But you can’t be a student without a team, you can’t go on missions without a team, you can’t graduate without a team; about the only thing you can do on your own is attend classes. So what are you going to do about that?”

“I … I don’t know,” Ditzy admitted.

“She doesn’t need to decide that right away,” Trixie protested.

“No, you don’t,” Benni admitted, “but you’ll need to decide some time, so the sooner you start thinking about it, the better.”

“What about Team Bluebell?” Starlight suggested. “They’re a man short; I know that you wanted to go to Haven, Ditzy, but would it be so bad if you transferred to Beacon? You already know Lyra and Bon Bon—”

“I’m not sure that would go down too well if you suggested it,” Benni muttered.

“That was what they didn’t take your advice over, wasn’t it?” Sunset guessed.

“I suggested they should find a fourth team member to take over from Sky,” Benni replied. “Teams are four for a reason, after all. They … didn’t like it. Bon Bon near bit my head off, and Lyra looked as though she was going to start crying.”

“Trixie knows that you meant well,” Trixie ventured, “but it does sound—”

“A little heartless,” Sunset concluded. “They only just lost a teammate, and a friend—”

“And this isn’t summer camp; we’re here to do a job to the best of our abilities,” Starlight declared. “We can’t make that job harder for ourselves or for the people who depend on us out of misguided sentimentality.”

“'Misguided'?” Sunset declared. “You think that grief is misguided?”

“No, of course not, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” demanded Sunset.

“I mean that if I died, I’d want Trixie to replace me!” Starlight snapped. “If there is anything else after this life, I’d feel a whole lot better there knowing that someone was watching Trixie’s back, and Sunburst’s too, rather than knowing that there was an opening for an enemy to exploit that had been left open out of sentiment.”

“Some people aren’t replaceable,” Sunset declared.

“No one is replaceable,” Starlight replied. “But sometimes, you have to make do regardless.”

“Starlight’s right,” Benni said. “You can mourn, you can grieve, you can remember — nobody’s saying you can’t; gods know that I’d never say that — but it’s one thing to leave an empty chair at the table, and it’s another thing to leave an empty space on the battlefield.”

“It’ll be difficult to fill that space if Team Bluebell doesn’t want you to,” Sunset said. “And is that really … if that happened in my team, I’m not certain that I could give the new guy a fair shake.”

“In all honesty? Neither is Trixie,” Trixie added.

“Trixie,” Starlight said reproachfully.

“I know that it’s right, but that doesn’t make it easy,” Trixie said. “And if Ditzy wants to go down that road, she should be prepared for the fact that she might not be welcomed with open arms.”

“That’s the truth,” Benni added. “I’ve seen it happen, where one student makes up the numbers on a team that’s gone a man down. It seems heartless; it seems bureaucratic. Because it is heartless and bureaucratic, just stuffing a spare kid into a team with a space like you’re sardines; it’s for the best for all concerned, but I don’t blame any team that doesn’t like it, and I don’t blame any kid that doesn’t want to be a part of it. It’s an option, but it’s not your only option.”

“What are the others?” asked Ditzy.

“You can re-enroll next year,” Benni informed her. “Start again, new partner, new team. Yes, it will mean re-sitting a year’s classes, but you won’t be stepping into any dead man’s shoes; you won’t have any of the baggage that comes with it. You get a clean slate, a chance to make a fresh start from the beginning.”

“A fresh start,” Ditzy murmured. “I think … I think I’d prefer that. A chance to make new friends and not cause anyone any trouble.”

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Benni reminded her. “But if that’s what you want, then go for it.” She got up. “And you can find me here if you ever need to talk.”

Ditzy smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

Benni replaced the chair that she had sat down on. “And now I’ll let you decide what you want to order. Whatever you want, it’s on the house tonight.”

“That’s very generous,” Starlight said.

“It’s the least I can do,” Benni said, before she walked away and left them to it.

Sunset drank some more of her milkshake and opened up the menu. She wasn’t sure how hungry she was, to be honest; she was mainly here to stall for time, after all, but she was beginning to wonder how much good was being served by putting it off.

Maybe if I put it off long enough, everyone will be asleep by the time I get back to the dorm room.

Then I’ll have to answer questions in the morning when I’m only half-awake; is that a great improvement?

Probably not, but … I don’t want to face them right now.

But I’ll have to face them eventually.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” asked Ditzy.

“Of course,” Trixie said. “What is it?”

“What were the three of you doing at Arcadia Lake?” Ditzy inquired. “I mean, why did they send you three? Why not Team Tsunami or Team Sapphire? Why only three huntresses, and why you three? I guess I was too upset about the fact that Trixie was there to realise that it didn’t make much sense for any of you to be here.”

“Trrrrixie and Starlight were doing a favour, helping Sunset out,” Trixie declared. “Sunset would have been there all alone if it wasn’t for us.”

“And on my own, I would have failed,” Sunset muttered. “I’m not unaware of that, believe me.”

Without Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy to hold off Eve, there was no way that Sunset would have been able to enter Plum Pole’s mind and defeat the tantabus, and the truth was that she probably would have had a hard time defeating Evenfall Gleaming anyway, strong as she was and possessed of the dark regalia as she was. Sunset might not have had the imagination that Trixie had possessed when faced with a battle inside a nightmare.

“Then why were you going to go on your own?” Ditzy asked. “Students are supposed to work in teams of four, right?”

Sunset sighed. “Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, they are.”

“Then why?” Ditzy asked.

Sunset glanced at her, then looked away. That left her looking at Starlight, so she turned her head aside so that she didn’t have to look at any of them. “Because,” she said. “Because … I was going to go alone because…”

Because that is the term of my agreement with the First Councillor.

Because I deserve to risk my life alone against the hazards of the field.

Because this is my atonement.

Because that is more important to me than whether I accomplish anything useful doing this.

Because how I feel about myself means more to me than whether or not I save anyone.

Because I am a fool, and so is the First Councillor.

“Because … because I’m an idiot,” Sunset admitted. “Because I’m an idiot, and I didn’t think, and I didn’t think about the people of Arcadia Lake. Because I’m an idiot, and I have to go.” She got up. “I’d apologise, but since this is on the house, you’re not missing anything by my not being here. But since I owe you, I’ll pick up the tab some other time.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Starlight asked.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Wasn’t that clear when I stood up and said I had to go?”

Trixie snorted. “Well, yes,” she allowed. “But you were the one who wanted to come here in the first place. What happened to putting off that awkward conversation?”

“That was stupid too,” Sunset said. “I need to talk to my teammates.”

Starlight smiled. “Yeah, you do. Good luck out there.”

Sunset nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all, for … for doing more of the work than I did, to be quite honest.”

Trixie primped her hair with one hand. “All part of the Tsunami service.”

Sunset grabbed her gun and her rifle, slinging Sol Invictus over her shoulder and holding onto Soteria where it sat in its scabbard; she levitated her pack — containing, amongst other things, the Dark Regalia — over her other shoulder and walked briskly down the gap between the rows of tables towards the exit from Benni Haven’s.

Fluffy, the stuffed beowolf, faced her as she walked towards the door, baring his fake fangs at her, his arms outstretched.

As Sunset approached, she could imagine the four of them stood around him for their picture taken, a few weeks into the first semester. Celestia, that felt so very long ago.

Benni was right; the smiles didn’t last forever. In their case, they hadn’t even lasted a year.

We will smile again. We will have the chance to smile again. Rainbow’s right: Cinder bet the house, and she lost; whatever mischief she may try to make in future will be nothing compared to this — not least because I’m right too that she’s not as smart as she thinks she is; she’s every bit as stupid as I am.

We will smile again. We must.

And I will be with them when they do.

Sunset managed a smile, right then and there, as she reached out and placed a gentle hand on Fluffy’s nose.

“Wish me luck,” she murmured, then turned away and opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air, getting cooler by the night as fall approached.

She adjusted her pack where it rested on her shoulder, and then began to walk down the path leading from the restaurant towards the school, first the gravel path that led from the door, and then joining onto the road that approached the school proper from the direction of Vale.

Atlesian Knights patrolled the way, moving up and down the road, as well as standing sentinel at fixed points upon it, but none of them bothered her. None of them hindered her progress; they had facial recognition, didn’t they? They knew that she was a student at Beacon, and unlike Atlas, there wasn’t even a curfew for them to enforce. To all intents and purposes, they ignored her, barely even glancing her way, walking past her with clanking steps in that stiff gait that they possessed. Sunset ignored them too, not stopping to look at them twice as she walked by, her eyes and attention fixed upon the road in front of her, while her mind was busy turning what she might say over and over in her mind.

It was all very well to realise that she’d been stupid and vow not to do it again, but that didn’t solve the problem of how to explain what she had already done. What was she going to say to all of them? How was she going to explain it? What could she say that would satisfy their curiosity?

The school drew closer; the buildings loomed larger in the darkness with every step she took, the Emerald Tower with its glowing lights blocked out more of the stars with every step she took, her destination and the conversation she had little idea how to approach grew closer with every step she took. And yet, for all that, Sunset’s mind was not so clouded by these thoughts that she didn’t notice, as she approached the school, someone standing in the middle of the road.

It was Professor Ozpin, the tip of his cane resting up the surface of the road, one hand upon it, the other behind his back. He did not seem to be putting his weight upon his walking stick, nor did the chill of night appear to be troubling him. He was so still that he might have been fashioned out of marble, invulnerable to the elements, untouchable and impossible to mar. But as Sunset drew near, he turned his head a little to look at her.

“Good evening, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “I am glad to see you back home safe.”

“Professor,” Sunset said softly, as she came to a halt in front of him — not directly in front, at a slight angle. She paused, adjusting Sol Invictus. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not too long, no,” Professor Ozpin. “Did you enjoy your meal at Benni Haven’s?”

Sunset let out a slight laugh. “I haven’t actually eaten, Professor; in the end, I thought it was better to come back and make my … my apologies and my excuses to the others.”

“Yes, when it comes to excuses, I was hoping to talk to you about that,” Professor Ozpin said. “Hence my being here to welcome you back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that you aren’t here just because you like me this much, Professor,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin chuckled slightly. “Your teammates were very worried about you,” he said. “You left with no word to them of where you had gone or when you might return.”

Sunset bowed her head, turning her eyes towards the tarmac road beneath her booted feet. “No, Professor.”

“That was rather cruel of you, wouldn’t you say?”

Sunset’s tail hung limp between her legs, falling towards the road. “I … I was afraid … I didn’t know how to tell them where I was going, and I knew that they wouldn’t let me leave without an explanation, so … it seemed easier to simply go without a word.”

“Understandable,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But cruel, all the same.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

Professor Ozpin did not respond to that; rather, he said, “I take it that the First Councillor engaged you upon some operation of his?”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset repeated. “That won’t happen again either.”

“Oh?” Professor Ozpin murmured, surprise in his voice.

Sunset looked up at him. The old man’s eyebrows were raised, disappearing into his artfully untidy bangs.

“Do not mistake me, Miss Shimmer; I am glad to hear it,” Professor Ozpin said. “As you will recall, I was not happy with this arrangement when you told me of it, but nevertheless, I am surprised, given your vehemence when last we spoke of this.”

“Given that you knew I was coming back, Professor, I can only conclude that it will come as less of a surprise to you that I did not go alone,” Sunset replied.

“I am aware of the absence of Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I was forcibly made aware by General Ironwood, who raised the issue with me.”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to raise her eyebrows, and to boggle her eyes a little bit for good measure. “They didn’t tell him?”

“I can only imagine that they found the idea of bridging the notion as difficult as you did, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said dryly. “I did not tell General Ironwood why you had gone, only that you had and that they had gone with you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “Although I am not sure why you protected my secret thus.”

“General Ironwood has many fine qualities,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “Not least of which is that he sees things in quite a different way to myself from time to time; I fear that if he knew what you had done, he would find it harder to forgive you than I do. Do Miss Glimmer and Miss Lulamoon know the reason behind your expedition?”

“No,” Sunset said with a shake of her head — of her tail, which swished back and forth once behind her. “They only know that I took this mission on myself because I wanted to atone for my mistakes, but they don’t know what the mistake was.”

She looked over her shoulder, back towards Benni Haven’s, where Trixie and Starlight lingered still with Ditzy. Had they ordered yet? Did they have any idea that they were going to be called out on the carpet by General Ironwood for their absence?

“I feel as though I owe them more thanks than I gave them, or perhaps an apology.”

Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. “I’m sure they’ll muddle through somehow. Might we return to the question of your change of heart on the subject of throwing yourself into the fire for the First Councillor? Is it somehow connected to the assistance you received from your Atlesian friends?” He paused for a moment. “Might we walk as we talk, Miss Shimmer?”

“Of course, Professor,” Sunset said, and as Professor Ozpin turned away and began to walk towards the Emerald Tower, his cane tapping upon the road as he went, Sunset fell in beside him.

“I think — feel like — I owe you an apology, Professor, on behalf of Equestria,” Sunset said softly.

“Really, Miss Shimmer, why?”

Sunset glanced at him. “You didn’t know that Eve Viperidae, leader of Haven’s Team Eden, was a unicorn as well?”

Professor Ozpin was silent a moment, and he failed to tap his cane upon the ground for a couple of steps. “No, Miss Shimmer, I was not aware,” he murmured.

“Her real name is Evenfall Gleaming,” Sunset said. “She is very old, very powerful, and she was banished here centuries ago because she was very dangerous. Too dangerous to remain in Equestria.”

“But not too dangerous to trouble us here,” Professor Ozpin said with evident disapproval.

“It seems not,” Sunset admitted. “It does not change the fact, but Princess Celestia was unaware of this; she had not yet come to the throne and rule when it was done, although her assumption of the royal dignity was close at hand. I guarantee, Professor, all of this stopped at that point.”

“Not soon enough, some might say,” Professor Ozpin replied. “And yet, I find myself more disappointed in myself — and in Leo; yet another monster infiltrated our ranks, infiltrated this school, and Haven too, and we were not aware of it?”

“Eve has had a lot of experience in fooling people, Professor; she’s been doing it for many years now,” Sunset told him. “She has … she was much better at hiding her powers than I was. And although she was certainly willing to do harm in order to get her way, she bore no truly malign intents towards Remnant. Her wish was to return to Equestria by any means and finish what she started there.”

“If I had known that, I could have provided such a way,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“I am very glad that you did not, Professor,” Sunset said, her voice quiet but firm. “Remnant does not deserve her, true, but Equestria scarcely deserves her back again after so long.” Just because I’m confident that Twilight and the Elements of Harmony could have defeated her doesn’t mean I want them to have to.

“No, Miss Shimmer, I am sure you are correct,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “Perhaps you had better tell me what transpired upon this mission, that prompted Miss Viperidae — or Miss Gleaming, as she is apparently called — to reveal herself to you.”

Sunset let out a nervous laugh. “I … I scarcely know where to begin, Professor. But I will try, nevertheless. I suppose … I suppose the story began before we arrived at Arcadia Lake, our destination, a village—”

“I know the place,” Professor Ozpin told her. “At least, I can find it on the map.”

“It seemed a rather lovely place,” Sunset said. “Save for its troubles, which, as I said, began before we arrived. A certain Professor Scrub, a descendant of an Equestrian exile, had been studying magic—”

“'Magic'?” Professor Ozpin repeated.

“Yes,” Sunset confirmed. “He too was hoping to find a way to travel to Equestria, and he succeeded in crafting certain magic rings, rings for outward journeys and rings to return to Remnant again afterwards. He tricked a friend of his nephew, one Miss Pole, into taking such a ring and using it to travel to Equestria, where she was attacked by a creature called a tantabus — a creature of dreams, or rather. of nightmares; it infects the mind, forcing its prey to relive their nightmares constantly, and all the while. it feeds upon their fear and sadness, their guilt and their regret.”

“I have never encountered such a thing,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “And now that you tell me of it, I find myself very glad of the fact. What became of the child?”

“She was put into a coma from which she would not wake,” Sunset said. “She was rescued by Professor Scrub’s nephew, who brought her back to Remnant, but there, the tantabus began to expand its power — you see, as a tantabus grows in strength, it can start to affect the waking world, eventually escaping from the mind of its host and breaking free to turn the world around it into a living nightmare. The nightmares … the nightmares began to affect the people of Arcadia Lake, manifesting in the form of grimm attacks and other things. The huntsman sent to Arcadia Lake, as well as two members of Team Eden, were lost to such nightmares.”

“I see,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “This must all be very hard upon Miss Doo.”

“Ditzy is considering her options,” Sunset replied. “What she wants to do now that she doesn’t have a team.”

“There are two main approaches,” Professor Ozpin said. “To—”

“To fill in with an existing team that has a spot open or to start again next year,” Sunset said. “Ditzy is leaning towards the latter, but she is aware of both.”

“I’m glad she is aware,” Professor Ozpin said. “Though not, obviously, glad of the need for her to be aware. But please, Miss Shimmer, continue.”

“Eve recognised the signs of a tantabus,” Sunset went on. “She raised a shield around Arcadia Lake and the surrounding lands, blocking communications and preventing anyone from getting close to the village that she didn’t wish to get close. She let me through, and Starlight and Trixie, because she sensed my magic and recognised me as a fellow Equestrian. Once we got there, I eventually recognised the signs of a tantabus and got the whole story from Professor Scrub. That was when Eve revealed herself to me.”

“She wished to use the rings to return to Equestria?”

“And to take Miss Pole with her, so that she could use the tantabus to help her take power,” Sunset said. “That, as much or more than her going home, we could not allow. In truth, Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy did a lot more than I did. While they held off Eve — and the nightmares that were consuming the village — I used my semblance to enter Miss Pole’s mind—”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset blinked. “Have I not told you about my semblance, Professor?”

“I wasn’t aware you had one, Miss Shimmer, so no.”

“Empathy,” Sunset said. “Which sounds like a bad joke, I know, or touch telepathy, which doesn’t sound so bad but also probably isn’t as accurate. I found it on the night Cinder fled the school. I touch people, and I … I can see their memories, experience their feelings … I used that semblance to reach Miss Pole and persuade her to defeat the tantabus.”

“Was it so easy?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“It depends on what kind of person you are and what is fuelling them,” Sunset explained. “A tantabus is powerful, but vulnerable. All you have to do to destroy them, before they get fully out of the mind, at least, is to … to come to terms with the feelings they pray on.”

“Were it so simple for everyone,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“I know what you mean, Professor, but Miss Pole accomplished it,” Sunset said, “and while she did so, the others were able to withstand and weaken Eve. I destroyed Professor Scrub’s magic rings, and she fled.”

“So she is alive, then?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“We must keep an eye out for her in future,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Were there any casualties?”

“Not after we arrived, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “It sounds as though you did well, Miss Shimmer.”

“As I said, Professor, the others—”

“Have received your praise most fulsomely,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Because it is deserved,” Sunset insisted. She hesitated. “Professor … may I ask you a question?”

“As many as you wish, Miss Shimmer.”

“Were you ever tempted to return the compliment?” Sunset asked. “To banish Salem to Equestria, as so many Equestrian horrors have been visited on Remnant in the past? Were you ever tempted to inflict upon Equestria the same treatment and see how they liked it, to foist your problems off on someone else?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “If it could be done, Miss Shimmer, would you help me to do it?”

“No, Professor, I would not,” Sunset replied instantly.

“Because you value Equestria more than Remnant?”

“Because I would be responsible for what she did once in Equestria,” Sunset declared. “What if her magic became more powerful in my world, as my magic has been diminished in yours? What if the magic that protects my home will not avail against her? By your own words, you told me that she cannot be destroyed; she is immortal and invulnerable … Professor, I do not excuse the actions of Starswirl the Bearded and his ilk, but if I might offer some explanation: we have no warriors in my world. We do not train our fillies and foals to take up arms; we are a peaceful people to a degree that you would find absurd, maybe even pathetic. The great champions of Equestria are no soldiers trained in arms, but a baker, a dressmaker, a farmer, a lover of beasts and birds, a performing athlete, and a princess who was a librarian ere long. All they have, all my people have, is the magic. If Salem’s power wards her against it as it does against all the weapons of huntsmen and General Ironwood’s bombs, then any evil that she did… that would be my doing, and I would not have it on my conscience. But I would find it hard to blame you if you could have it on yours.”

“Yet I would not,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Others might be content to visit their difficulties upon perfect strangers, casting off their troubles with a shrug, making them someone else’s problem and then forgetting … but I am not inclined.”

“You are a good man, Professor,” Sunset murmured.

“I am, in any case, a somewhat practical man, I hope; it is not possible,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “I would not seek it though it were possible, but it is not. Salem is … bound to this world. She will exist so long as Remnant exists, and upon Remnant, she will remain.”

“You make it sound like a curse,” Sunset said.

“Perhaps it is a curse, to live so long,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “Now, for the third time, what about this has turned you against the arrangement you entered into with the First Councillor, and which you defended to me so vehemently?”

“Because I would have been beaten on my own,” Sunset said. “As I told you, it was Trixie, Starlight, and Ditzy who fought off Eve until Miss Pole could defeat the tantabus within her own mind. Without them, Eve might have escaped to Equestria, Miss Pole would have been kidnapped, and while that might have been the end of it, what if the distress of the village had drawn the grimm?” She paused. “I let people die because I was not willing to sacrifice the lives of my friends; I thought that fighting alone, free of such constraints, would free me to do what was … what was right and necessary, but it turns out that, fighting alone—”

“You lack the strength to do anything,” Professor Ozpin said. “Right or necessary or otherwise.”

Sunset let out a sigh. “Indeed, Professor.”

“There is a reason huntresses are assigned to teams, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said lightly.

“So I’ve been told, Professor,” Sunset murmured. After a pause, she added, “Does it make sense?”

“Does what make sense, Miss Shimmer?”

“My rationale,” Sunset explained. “I may die at the First Councillor’s command, but I am no longer certain that I will accomplish anything before I do. If I had gone alone to Arcadia Lake, there might well be no Arcadia Lake today, and what good does that serve? What good do I serve on my own?”

“Nothing except to sate Councillor Emerald’s anger, I fear,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I quite agree with you, Miss Shimmer, that you are likely to accomplish nothing on any solo missions. Skilled though you are, the hazards of the field are too unpredictable for any single student to brave them.”

“What of a single huntsman, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Why are huntsmen in such haste to go their separate ways after graduation?”

“Not all are,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “But, for those who are not so lucky as to form such close bonds with their teammates, I fear that school is a rather stultifying experience that they are well glad to be away from, although it may be unwise for them to embrace so much freedom so swiftly. Personally, I would prefer it if our graduates continued to work in teams after graduation, but once they leave the school, everyone who does so is free to do as they please, and I must concede that if all huntsmen remained in their school fours, it would greatly reduce the number of missions that could be undertaken. Nevertheless, I think that you are as correct now as you were fundamentally misguided when we spoke on the cliffs.”

“I’m not sure the First Councillor will see it that way, I admit,” Sunset murmured.

“Leave the First Councillor to me,” Professor Ozpin told her. “I will deal with him.”

“Professor?” Sunset asked, looking at him. “Are you … are you sure you want him to know that you know what I did? It could cause trouble for you.”

“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin conceded.

“Then you cannot do it!” Sunset declared.

“Better me than you, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I assure you I am far better prepared to weather any trouble Councillor Emerald might wish to cause me than you are.”

“Professor … that’s nonsense,” Sunset said. “That is the reverse of sense; you are our captain; who will lead the fight against Salem if something were to befall by the machinations of the First Councillor? General Ironwood? Professor Goodwitch? You are worth more than I am, by virtue of your place; it is not right that you should suffer on my account.”

“Before you get too worked up, Miss Shimmer, let me remind you that we do not yet know that anyone will be suffering,” Professor Ozpin said gently. “And you are wrong; my life is worth no more than yours, as the lives of your friends were not worth more than the lives you inadvertently caused to be lost.”

Sunset frowned. “Because all lives are worth the same in your eyes, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Is it not so in your eyes, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset was silent for a moment, choosing her words and her formulation with care. “There … there is a hierarchy, is there not? Determined by birth and blood in some cases, by virtue in others, by place at the head of great affairs or mighty movements, by standing in the eyes of men, some are set higher than the rest.”

“And yet that need not mean that their lives are worth more,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

“The body may endure body blows more easily than it can bear the loss of a head,” Sunset replied. “Is that not so? You are the head of our body, Professor; you must not allow yourself to be decapitated on account of a mere finger upon your hand, if that. I will speak to the First Councillor myself.”

“No, Miss Shimmer, you will not,” Professor Ozpin said firmly. “I think, rather than debate with you, I will show you by my actions that I trust in my own values in this over your own. Even if it means facing the wrath of the First Councillor.”

He stopped, resting his cane upon the ground, looking up at the glowing green lights of the Emerald Tower that now loomed high above them, a true beacon in the night sky.

“You are wrong, Miss Shimmer,” he said softly. “I hope that you can come to understand that, in time. There will always be another head, there will always be someone willing to step forward and lead—”

“That they are willing to do so is not a sign that they should, nor that they would be better suited to do so than the one who is already leading,” Sunset replied.

“Meanwhile, some fingers, some — to use your analogy — cells of the body may turn out to be quite irreplaceable.” His voice became a little more stern as he said, “It is not your place to judge who is most worthy of life. I beg you, Miss Shimmer, to tell me that you did not do as you did at the Breach because Miss Nikos is the Princess Without a Crown of Mistral?”

Sunset swallowed. “No, Professor. In that moment, my only thought was that I love her.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “I will speak to Councillor Emerald,” he said again, “and explain to him that sending you out on perilous tasks alone will not serve those who rely upon a huntress to guard them. I hope he is not so lost to anger that he will not see the reason behind it.” He chuckled.

“Something amusing, Professor.”

“A certain irony, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “You see, in order to explain away your absence to your teammates, I told them I had dispatched you on a mission alone.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “That … is out of character for you, Professor.”

“Indeed, I don’t know how I shall explain this momentary bout of madness that overtook me,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Fortunately, when I told your friends that circumstances around the mission were unique … that appears to have been the case.”

Sunset could not restrain the snort. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it does. Lucky me. Thank you, Professor; you didn’t have to cover for me like that.”

“And what would be gained from allowing your teammates to fall out with you, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset hesitated a moment. “How did they take it?” she asked.

“I fear that Miss Nikos is not best pleased with me at present,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Professor—” Sunset began.

“The head can endure at least mild blows, I think, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin interrupted her. “Goodnight.”

Sunset was still and silent a moment, then bowed her head. “Goodnight, Professor.”

She left him there, standing in the shadow of the great tower, making a slow and lonely way towards it, his back straight, the moonlight shining upon his silver hair, giving him an air of immense dignity as he went.

It was not met that he should bear any risk for her sake, Sunset saw that now, but it seemed that that was something about which they would not, perhaps could not, agree.

She was too much a product of the palace to believe in the fraternity of all mankind.

Sunset turned away from him, leaving headmaster and tower alike behind as she walked towards the dorm rooms. Her steps quickened as she approached the building. Thanks to Professor Ozpin, she no longer felt as nervous as she had done; her stomach felt less knotted and less icy cold. At least her friends had already been primed with an excuse for her absence — and an excuse, what was more, which primed them to accept the truth about what she had been up to and where she had been. She need not have recourse to Trixie’s story, although she would have to warn them to keep the truth to themselves.

Yet nevertheless, she still owed them an apology. Even if Professor Ozpin had spoken true, even if he had dispatched her straightaway upon this mission of grave urgency and where her special skills might be of particular value, it would still have been wrong of her to leave the rest behind. She would still owe them an apology, and that went double since Professor Ozpin had lied, and she had stolen away for more mundane reasons by far.

But she felt less nervous than she had done; it was not right, perhaps, to trespass upon the goodness of her friends, but being so good as they were, she felt they would forgive her.

She very much hoped so.

The dorm rooms were mostly quiet. The corridors were dark, the lights only flickering on as Sunset passed down them, and doubtless, they would turn off again ere she departed from the range of the motion sensors. The doors were shut; there was no movement in the kitchens. Of course, many students had gone home for the break, and it seemed that the ones who remained were either out or else very much indoors.

A little music, the occasional strain of a voice, the sound of keys on a piano, floated out of one or some of the dorm rooms, too softly for Sunset to make out the tune, but no one troubled or interrupted Sunset as she made her way up the stairs and down the corridors until she stood in front of the door to the SAPR dorm room.

It had their name on it, in those big colourful letters that parents got to spell out their children’s names on their bedroom doors, and that picture of the four of them with Fluffy, a twin to the one that hung on the big wall at Benni Haven’s.

It had seemed a cute thing to do at the time, to put their name on the door, to hang their picture up so that everyone knew who they were. YRBN had done the same on the opposite door — they’d done it second, of course, because they didn’t have any original ideas — having their name and putting two pictures up, one on top of the other: the original generation Team YRBN, with Dove Bronzewing, and then their second incarnation with Blake taking Dove’s place.

It seemed a cute idea, but at the same time now … it seemed a little vain as well.

Or perhaps Sunset’s soul was just so weighted down that she couldn’t appreciate the cuteness at the moment.

But we will smile again, like we did that night.

But not, perhaps, tonight. Nevertheless, we will smile just like we did then.

Sunset got her scroll out of her pocket with her free hand and used it to open the door. As the door swung ajar, Sunset half hoped that the lights would be off, that everyone would be asleep, or out perhaps. That Jaune and Pyrrha would be training outside and Ruby … would be somewhere else. With her sister, maybe.

The lights were on inside the dorm room. There would be at least one person in there waiting for her.

And yet, there was no sound as Sunset pushed the door open the rest of the way with her foot. As she stepped inside, she could feel the anticipation in the air, like electricity crackling around her.

Everyone was waiting for her inside the dorm room.

Ruby was sitting on the window seat above the bookshelves, reading The Song of Olivia — or at least, she had presumably been reading it, because it was in her hands and upon her lap, even if her silver-eyed gaze was now turned towards Sunset.

Pyrrha was lying on her bed, with little earbuds in her ears, half-concealed behind the red hair that fell around her, and her scroll lying on the bed beside her. As Sunset walked in, she sat up and pulled the earbuds out of her ears.

Jaune was sitting at the desk that ran along the inner wall of the dorm room, writing something that Sunset could not have guessed at. He too turned to look at Sunset as she entered, and the pen dropped from his fingers to land upon the desk. The rattle it made was the only sound.

Sunset stood just beyond the doorway, using her foot to nudge the door closed behind her.

Nobody said a word. They just stared at her, with gazes sharp, the inquisition in their eyes that they would not give voice to.

Sunset took a deep breath. “Hi,” she said. “I’m back.”

Ruby looked away. Pyrrha and Jaune continued to stare at her, but said nothing.

Sunset waited, still and silent.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “We see that you are.” Her voice was soft, but crisp and brittle, with a sense that it might shatter into sharp shards of glass at any moment. “Professor Ozpin told us that he sent you on a mission.”

“Yes,” Sunset said softly. “I was given a mission.”

“By yourself?” Pyrrha said, and already her tone was sharpening.

“I … didn’t end up going alone,” Sunset admitted. “But that was the plan.”

“You didn’t end up going alone?” Jaune repeated.

“No,” Sunset said. “Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Team Tsunami went with me.”

Ruby made a noise, a sort of harrumph, or perhaps more of an outraged squeal; it was hard to make out. She still didn’t look at Sunset.

“I … see,” Pyrrha replied.

“That would make one of us,” Jaune muttered. “You could take Trixie and Starlight — do you even know them?”

“They’re friends of Rainbow Dash,” Sunset said.

“So you can take two of Rainbow’s friends, but you can’t even bother to tell us where you’re going?” Jaune demanded, getting to his feet.

“It’s not like that,” Sunset said defensively. “I didn’t seek them out; they imposed their company upon me. They didn’t think that I should go on this mission alone.”

“So someone who calls themselves 'The Great and Powerful' has more sense than you do now?” Jaune asked.

Listen to the mouth on him all of a sudden. Not that I don’t deserve it. “So it would appear.”

“Professor Ozpin also told us that there was no time for you to tell us about your assignment, or to get us,” Pyrrha said, as she, too, got to her feet. “But you could have answered my messages.”

“Yes,” Sunset conceded. “Yes, I could. I’ve got no excuse for that, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. None of this will happen again.” She looked at Ruby. “Ruby…”

Ruby still didn’t look at Sunset.

Sunset frowned. “Ruby, come on, don’t be like that.”

“Oh, you don’t like it?” Ruby demanded. “Try putting up with it all night.”

“I suppose I had that coming,” Sunset muttered, as she walked the short distance across the room to her bed.

She put her pack, with the Dark Regalia inside, under the bed — she would need to find somewhere better to put them, like her locker, or buried, but right now, she was too tired to go down to the amphitheatre and put everything away properly. She leaned Sol Invictus and Soteria up against the wall, and considered sitting down, but ultimately decided against it; it might give off the wrong impression, and she wanted them to think that she was taking this seriously.

She was taking this seriously; she meant what she said: this wasn’t going to happen again.

“It was cruel to treat you that way,” Sunset said. “I know that now. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have answered.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Ruby sullenly.

“Because I knew that it would be like this, and I wanted to put it off,” Sunset admitted, spreading her arms out on either side. “I knew that you wouldn’t like what I’d done—”

“Then why did you do it?” demanded Ruby. “What was so important that you had to take off all by yourself without us, without even telling us?”

“Equestrian magic,” Sunset said.

She could sense the change in the mood of the room almost instantly, curiosity and surprise mingling with and somewhat displacing the earlier hostility. Pyrrha gasped, and Jaune let out a wordless squawk of astonishment.

“Eques— from your home?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset nodded. “Another unicorn, like myself; an exile, but in less voluntary circumstances; and a monster, a creature of nightmares called a tantabus.”

“Were you able to help them get home?” Ruby asked, her tone a little softer than it had been before. “Not the monster, the unicorn?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “Nor did I want to. They were too dangerous to go home.”

“'Dangerous'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“Not everyone who has come to Remnant from my world is a good person,” Sunset explained. “In fact, I would say that most of the people who come to Remnant from my home are decidedly not good people.” You might even include me in that. “Quite apart from the question of why anyone in their right mind, possessed of the respect of their fellows, should wish to trade Equestria for this place — no offence — the fact is that, in the earlier days of Equestria’s history, the great unicorn mages of my world had a habit of using Remnant as a place to banish any villain or monster they did not like and feared to deal with.”

“So,” Jaune said, “we’re like your garbage dump.”

“Not anymore, not since Princess Celestia came to power,” Sunset said. “But … yes. On behalf of my people, I am sorry for it.”

“That’s not what you should be sorry about,” Ruby muttered.

“So, this unicorn, she was a bad guy?” Jaune said. “And she’d been exiled?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you just said that that had stopped.”

“She was over a thousand years old,” Sunset replied.

Jaune’s eyes widened. “Is that … do you… will you—?”

“No, not all unicorns live that long, and I will not; our lifespan is about equivalent to your own,” Sunset informed him. “Eve’s preservation has to do with dark magic.”

Which means I could live that long, I suppose, now that I have such magic at my fingertips. Although I’m not sure I’d want to. Yes, it would have its advantages — she could take over from Professor Ozpin as leader of the fight against Salem, blessing successive generations with her wisdom and insights, becoming ever more venerated amongst them, constantly discovering new strategies, possibly even a way to defeat their enemy for good. She could become Remnant’s very own Princess Celestia.

And she would watch all her friends die around her; like Celestia, she would watch the world change before her eyes. Was that what she wanted? Was all that she might gain worth that price?

That was highly debatable, to say the least, and that was before you remembered that it was dark magic they were talking about, and dark magic always came with a price. The costs of immortality became a lot steeper when they were accompanied by the rotting of the brain or the twisting of the soul.

“And this monster, this tantabus?” Pyrrha asked. “Was that banished here as well?”

“No, that was brought here, by … by a foolish man,” Sunset said. “It possessed a child and drew the unicorn to the village of Arcadia Lake in an attempt to seize it for herself. The tantabus was the main issue; anyone sufficiently skilled could have fought off Eve, but only I would have recognised the presence of the tantabus.”

“So we could have helped?” Ruby asked. “We could have helped you fight off that unicorn?”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “Yes, you could have helped, and you should have been there, and I was a fool to think that I could do it on my own. I couldn’t have. Trixie and Starlight — and Ditzy Doo, who was there already — did more than I did. In the end, they fought the battle; I only had to use my semblance.”

“Your semblance?” Pyrrha said. “But you—”

“Haven’t trained it, no,” Sunset agreed. “I got lucky. I’d like to take you up on that offer still, assuming you’re not so angry at me as to rescind it.” Now, she allowed herself to sink down onto the bed, feeling the mattress give way beneath her. She bowed her head, letting her fiery hair fall down around her. “Ever since the Breach, I … I’ve felt … I let six people die because I wasn’t strong enough—”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha began, “this isn’t—”

“Let me finish,” Sunset pleaded, without looking up. “Six people died because I couldn’t do what had to be done, and I…” She breathed in and out. In and out. She looked up at Ruby. “Everything that I have accused you of and chided you for, I have felt within myself, within my heart, I am … the greatest of hypocrites, and I cry your pardon for that too. The truth is that the mission was arranged in haste, and it did require my special skills, but the reason I didn’t push harder to take you or to tell you was because I hoped to find something that would wound me so badly that I could call it atonement for my weakness.”

“That’s not the point!” Ruby declared. “What good is dying if you’re not dying to protect anybody?”

“I know, there isn’t one,” Sunset said. “That’s what … Miss Pole, Malmsey Scrub, Doctor Diggory, Mrs. Macready, they would all have died if I’d been on my own. Well, maybe. They’d have been at risk, certainly. I couldn’t have done it all without Trixie and Starlight’s help — or without your help, if you’d been there.

“Ever since the Breach, I have been … not myself. Pyrrha has noticed that already, although she has kindly kept it to herself. I cannot promise that I will miraculously return to what I was before, but I can promise that I will not again forget who and what I am: not a lone wolf, not a hero, but a part of this team. If you’ll let me be.”

There was a moment of silence in the dorm room, and a moment of stillness too, a stillness that was broken by a blur of rosepetals, trailing across the dorm room like little drops of blood, as Ruby closed the distance between herself and Sunset, wrapping her arms around Sunset’s chest.

“Welcome back,” Ruby whispered. “Don’t do that again, okay?”

“I give you my word,” Sunset murmured. “Upon my tattered honour.”

Jaune crossed the room more slowly, sitting down on the other side of Sunset. Silently, he reached out and took her free hand in his own.

Pyrrha remained where she was, standing up, looking down on Sunset. But she smiled warmly, and the smile spread into her emerald eyes and said all that needed saying.

Sunset smiled back and bowed her head to her.

I am not back. But I may be on the road.

News from Equestria (New)

News From Equestria

“Sir, Lulamoon and Glimmer are outside.”

General Ironwood closed the folder on the paperwork he’d been reading. “Thank you, Yeoman; send them in.”

The door into Ironwood’s office aboard the Valiant slid open with a hydraulic hiss as Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer walked in. Both wore their Atlesian whites, rather than their more colourful — at least in Lulamoon’s case — field gear. Trixie looked uncertain; Glimmer looked stoic. They both stopped a couple of feet from his desk and came to attention, saluting him.

“Cadet Leader Lulamoon and Cadet Glimmer reporting, sir,” Trixie declared.

Ironwood got up, returning their salute. “At ease,” he said softly.

As they obeyed him, spreading their legs while clasping their hands behind their backs, Ironwood observed the pair of them. Lulamoon was one of his most flamboyant students and one who divided opinions amongst the faculty: some were charmed by her mannerisms; others thought her a pretentious peacock. For himself, Ironwood had to admit that, on a personal level, she was not exactly what he looked for in a student or a soldier, but at the same time, he wouldn’t try to deny that she was innovative, quick-thinking, and brave. He didn’t regret making her a team leader — if her particular brand of charisma wasn’t for everyone, then she nevertheless had a force of personality that made her able to move people — since under her leadership, Team TTSS was one of the best-performing teams in their year. There was a reason he had trusted them to be part of Belladonna’s exposure to Atlas and its students; he hadn’t chosen to throw them together at random.

It had turned out, thank the gods, to be unnecessary, but Ironwood sometimes wondered if Lulamoon would have been a better choice to assume the mantle of the Winter Maiden than Starlight Glimmer; not his first choice — that would have been Dash — but a better choice than they had lighted on in the end. Someone who wasn’t cowed by responsibility, someone who revelled in the idea of their own specialness, someone who could think outside the box.

Of course, those weren’t the qualities that Ozpin looked for in a Maiden, and ultimately, it was Ozpin’s choice, even when it came to the Winter Maiden.

That brought Ironwood’s attention, and his consideration, to Starlight Glimmer. On paper, she was the more impressive of the two: prodigiously talented, a crack shot and an expert in close combat, excellent grades in all her classes. Strong, intelligent … and totally unready for the responsibility that they had sought to thrust upon her. In fairness, Ironwood had missed it too — he had submitted Starlight’s name for Ozpin’s consideration — and so had all of her professors. None of them had predicted that she would have a mental breakdown in response to their offer of the Maiden’s power.

And yet, he felt as though he should have known; he should have understood her better, should have been able to say what kind of person she was, judge whether she was truly ready or not.

Should have seen through the façade of good grades and expert performance to what was there — or not there — underneath.

They hadn’t spoken much since. Starlight’s confidence in him had been shaken — he could hardly blame her for that — and she wanted as little to do with him as possible; Ironwood could understand that, and he wasn’t minded to impose himself upon her against her will. He trusted that she wouldn’t go spreading what she knew to all and sundry, and that was enough; if she wanted to be nothing more than a learner, with no relationship with him beyond headmaster and student, who was he to argue with that?

Especially since she was a very good student, even moreso this second time around under Lulamoon’s leadership. No one had any complaints about her conduct or performance, so he had been willing to let things lie.

Until now.

Ironwood sat down. “Three nights ago, the two of you went AWOL in the company of a Beacon student, Sunset Shimmer,” he said.

“Permission to speak, sir,” Trixie said.

“Granted, Lulamoon.”

“We were supporting Sunset Shimmer on a mission, sir,” Trixie pointed out. “I’m not sure that really counts as AWOL.”

“Did you have orders to undertake this mission?” Ironwood asked.

Trixie licked her lips. “No, sir.”

“Then you were absent without leave,” Ironwood declared. He didn’t tell them who had informed him that they were absent — it had been Tempest Shadow, their teammate — for obvious reasons; he didn’t think these two were likely to retaliate, but there was a strict policy of anonymity in these cases. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“We did save a village, sir,” Trixie said, a little reproachfully.

Ironwood clasped his hands together. “Is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” Trixie said.

“It is, sir,” Starlight added.

Ironwood paused for a moment. “Why did you not ask permission before you left? Or report your whereabouts at any time?”

“Communications were being jammed around the village in question, sir,” Starlight said. She did not look at him, her face was pointed straight ahead and her gaze directed out of the window and across Vale spread out before her.

“And before that?” Ironwood demanded. “Before you left on this ‘mission’?”

“We … did what we thought was right, sir,” Trixie said.

“And what made you think this was the correct course of action?” Ironwood asked.

“Because … because if we had not gone with her, Sunset Shimmer would have gone on the mission alone, sir,” Trixie said. “And that wouldn’t have been good for Sunset, or for the village of Arcadia Lake.”

“Our intervention was crucial, sir,” Starlight added.

“Hmm,” Ironwood said. “I expect the details will be in your report which you will submit to me posthaste, isn’t that right, Lulamoon?”

“Yes, sir!” Trixie yelped.

Ironwood was silent for a little while. “Why was Miss Shimmer going on a mission alone?”

Ozpin hadn’t given him an answer on that, and while it wasn’t unheard of for Oz to keep secrets from him, that didn’t stop it from being irritating when he did, especially when it was a matter like this. Ironwood didn’t understand it — didn’t understand why Ozpin had sent Miss Shimmer out by herself and didn’t understand why he couldn’t share the good reason that he had for doing it.

Starlight and Trixie glanced at one another.

“You might have to ask her that, sir,” Starlight answered.

“I’m asking the two of you,” Ironwood informed them.

“Appreciate that, sir, but we couldn’t say why Sunset was assigned this mission,” Starlight said.

“I see,” Ironwood muttered. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows upon his desk.

“I appreciate that you acted with good intentions,” he said, “and I accept that you did some good with your actions. However, that does not change the fact that you had no orders to absent yourselves, you had not requested or been given leave, and you did not inform your superiors as to your whereabouts. Discipline is not an optional extra, obedience to orders and authority are not optional extras; they are the foundation of our strength. To remind you of that, having just spent three nights AWOL, you will spend the next three nights on sentry duty around the grounds of this school.” He leaned back in his chair. “What do you say to that?”

“Thank you, sir,” Trixie said.

Ironwood nodded. “Dismissed.”

Trixie came to attention, but Starlight said, “Permission to remain, sir, and speak to you privately.”

Ironwood looked at her, surprised by her request. He considered it for a moment. “Granted. Lulamoon.”

“Sir!” Trixie said, with only a glance at Starlight as she turned on her heel and marched towards the door. It opened before her with a hiss, and then it hissed again as it closed after her.

Starlight remained stood at ease, only now, she was looking at Ironwood.

Looking but not saying anything.

Ironwood let the silence linger for a moment. After what he had done, she was entitled to take this at her own pace.

Starlight looked at him, breathing in and out but saying nothing, swaying ever so slightly as she stood at ease. “Sir,” she began, after a little delay, “about the work that Rainbow Dash and the others are doing for you—”

“What do you mean, Glimmer?”

“Sir, if I may, I’m not an idiot,” Starlight replied. “I know that you sent Team Rosepetal into Mountain Glenn as part of classified activities. What I want to know — what I would like to know, sir — is does this have anything to do with the Winter Maiden?”

Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Why do you ask?”

“I suppose I’m hoping that you’re not involved in multiple secret conspiracies, sir,” Starlight said.

The corners of Ironwood’s lips twitched momentarily. “Have you spoken to Dash or the others about this?”

Starlight hesitated, but said, “I asked Twilight if the term ‘Winter Maiden’ meant anything to her. She denied it, and I think she was telling the truth.”

“And yet you’re also asking me,” Ironwood pointed out.

“Information can be compartmentalised, sir,” Starlight said.

“Yes,” Ironwood agreed. “Yes, it can.” He paused. “There are … connections, which you don’t need to know, just as Dash, Twilight, and the others have no need to know about the Winter Maiden, at least not at this time.

“I see,” Starlight murmured. “Thank you for being honest with me, sir.”

“Was there anything else, Glimmer?”

“Sir,” Starlight said. “Rainbow, Twilight, even Blake … these kids trust you; you know that, right?”

Ironwood held her gaze. “There is nothing that I’m more aware of,” he said. “Dismissed.”

Starlight stamped her foot onto the ground as she came to attention. “Thank you, sir.”

First Councillor Aspen Emerald stood in the conference room in his official residence; the large glass doors into the garden offered a pleasant view of the flowerbeds, the rosebushes, and the lawn in which Bramble was presently playing, climbing around on the little metal jungle gym that Aspen had put up there when he moved in. Aspen watched him for a moment out of the glass doors, climbing higher and higher, before he returned his attention to the business at hand.

The interior of the conference room was dominated by a large table of dark, varnished wood, with space and chairs to seat twenty people around it, but at present, the only person in the room beside himself was General Blackthorn. The General had his peaked cap tucked underneath his arm, exposing the baldness between his antlers.

They had taken to meeting every week, to go over issues with Vale’s defences — or, Aspen hoped, how improvements to said defences were progressing.

Progress might not be as swift as he liked, but no one would be able to accuse him of not knowing exactly what was going on.

Provided that he managed to keep his focus.

Aspen tugged at his tie with one hand. “Excuse me, General; you were saying?”

Blackthorn cleared his throat. “I was saying, Mister Councillor, that the Warrior’s engine troubles have been resolved satisfactorily, and she can join Terror in the skies over Vale.”

“Excellent,” Aspen said. “What about expediting the refit on Royal Sovereign? Or the repairs on Defender?”

“Overtime has been offered at the docks,” Blackthorn said. “Time and a half on weekends.”

“Take it up to double time,” Aspen instructed him.

“Are you sure, Mister Councillor?”

“I’ll find the money for it somewhere,” Aspen replied. “Nobody works weekends for time and a half.”

“I’ll bow to your expertise,” Blackthorn muttered. “If there is sufficient take-up, it may be possible to get Defender out in a few weeks, but Royal Sovereign is impossible.”

“Absolutely impossible?”

“Unless you want her up in the air with parts missing, Mister Councillor,” Blackthorn said.

“It may come to that,” Aspen muttered. “But hopefully not. I’ve received an update from the Mistralians; apparently, they’re making good progress getting their two battleships ready to sail. They hope to be able to deliver them before the Vytal Festival.”

“Indeed, Mister Councillor,” Blackthorn said.

Aspen frowned. “Do you have something to say, General?”

“May I say it candidly, Mister Councillor?”

“If you wish.”

“I think you’ve been sold a pup with those airships,” Blackthorn said. “Even if they were first-rate vessels when they were laid down, the designs would be obsolete by now, and that would apply even if they’ve been kept in good condition, which they clearly haven’t been. Old ships dragged out of mothballs? Vale would have been better off spending the money on new warships.”

“And how long would it take to build a new, first-class warship?” Aspen asked.

Blackthorn considered it. “The Atlesians can lay down a cruiser in a year,” he said.

“And the Alexandria yards?” Aspen pressed.

“Including design … three years,” Blackthorn admitted. “Perhaps as many as five.”

Aspen nodded. “We do not have a year, General; we certainly don’t have three to five. There will be elections not long after the Vytal Festival is over—”

“Some might say you’re putting party over kingdom, Mister Councillor,” Blackthorn murmured.

Aspen clasped his hands behind his back. “I didn’t appoint you to this command, Blackthorn, so that you could judge me. We are the natural party of government, and it is in the best interests of this kingdom that we should remain in government. I will not allow that ruddy-faced oaf into the First Councillor’s office because I was too slow to address the people’s concerns on defence.

“You may be right about those Mistralian ships. They may be worthless junk from a military perspective, but by the gods, they’ll look grand from the ground when people look up and see them in the skies above the city. They will feel safe. They will feel secure. And as the grimm are attracted to negative emotions, then does it not follow that anything that decreases said emotions is of some military benefit?”

Blackthorn nodded. “You may have a point, Mister Councillor.”

“You will get your modern ships in time,” Aspen said. “I guarantee it. In fact, you may start putting out the tenders for designs — we must have our own designs, optimised for our own needs, not Atlesian knockoffs — right now.”

Blackthorn’s eyebrows rose. “Can it be costed? We’re already exceeding the year’s military budget by quite considerable—”

“Thanks to Novo’s careful stewardship of the economy, and the record growth that we’ve been enjoying thanks to good conservative policies, the tax burden has remained at record lows,” Aspen said, turning away from Blackthorn for a moment to watch his son swinging from the bars out in the garden beyond. “Income tax at fifteen percent, National Insurance at a mere eight percent … yes, we will raise the National Insurance by one and a half percent and earmark the rise for increased defence spending. After all, defence spending is an insurance against the possibility of another attack like the one we experienced, and who would begrudge the kingdom a few extra lien to ensure that something like the Breach never happens again?”

“Someone will, I’m sure,” Blackthorn said dryly. “But I’m sure we can find ways to spend the money. The Home Guard needs to be properly equipped, and many of our regular units could do with modernising their gear as well as their training.”

“How is recruitment for the Home Guard?” Aspen asked.

“Booming, according to the latest figures I have,” Blackthorn said. “Across the kingdom, hundreds of thousands of people are volunteering; gods know how we’re going to arm them all.”

“We can ask for patience on that front,” Aspen said. “For now, it’s enough that people feel as though they’re doing something, contributing, making a difference. People need to feel as though the kingdom is moving in the right direction. In a safer direction. That is why I want you to start planning some forays against the grimm.”

“'Forays'?” Blackthorn repeated.

“We need to prove that our forces are just as capable as the Atlesians of going up against the creatures of grimm,” Aspen explained. “So find some grimm and go kill them.”

Blackthorn frowned slightly. “Since the Breach, there haven’t been any large concentrations of grimm—”

“Small ones will be even better; the victories will be easy, and we can trumpet them loudly all the same,” Aspen said. “The practical effect is irrelevant; the point is to give the impression of competence.”

“I will start looking at some options, Mister Councillor.”

“Inform me before you make any movements,” Aspen instructed him. “Have you heard anything from Colonel Sky Beak?”

“Nothing of note,” Blackthorn said. “Although there was one odd thing that happened very recently.”

“Go on.”

“Two of Ironwood’s students disappeared for a few nights, without leave,” Blackthorn said. “Apparently, they were in the company of one of Ozpin’s students. It’s probably nothing, but it is a little irregular.”

Aspen’s mouth tightened. “You wouldn’t happen to know the name of the Beacon student, would you?”

“Ironwood’s two are Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer,” Blackthorn said. “Something of a pair of rising stars, apparently, they fought at the Breach—”

“And the Beacon student?” Aspen demanded.

Blackthorn hesitated for a moment. “Sunset Shimmer, one of the heroes of the Breach.”

'One of the heroes of the Breach.' The architect of the Breach, the cause of all our misery and misfortune. Oh, how it galled at him to hear her called a hero; oh, how he wanted to wring her neck with his bare hands.

And she had set out not alone, but in company; in company with a pair of Atlas students. Were Ozpin and Ironwood conspiring to make a fool of him? How much had Sunset Shimmer told them?

“As you say,” Aspen said, through gritted teeth. “It’s probably nothing. Thank you, General, that will be all.”

“Mister Councillor,” Blackthorn said, as he replaced the cap on top of his head and turned to walk down the long table, towards the doors that led out into the rest of the official residence.

Aspen turned away and looked out into the garden. He did not see the general leave, but he heard the door click shut behind him. His eyes were focussed upon Bramble, watching him play, watching the smile upon his face, watching him swing and climb and slide down the blue plastic slide.

Bramble saw him watching, and waved to him with a big, bright smile upon his face.

Aspen forced himself to smile back, and to wave back also.

The smile faded from his face as Bramble ran back to start climbing the bars again.

Sunset Shimmer, someone he admired, someone he played as, had been willing to let him die. And now it fell to Aspen to undo the damage she had done.

He would make Vale safe, but in the meantime, if he could make Vale believe that it was safe, then maybe they could get through this.

The door into the conference room was opened by Woolly, his principal private secretary. “Uh, Professor Ozpin here to see you, First Councillor.”

Aspen turned towards the door. “Send him in, Woolly.”

“Are you sure, First Councillor?” Woolly asked.

“Send him in, Woolly,” Aspen repeated, more firmly this time.

“Of course, First Councillor,” Woolly replied, before ducking out of the room.

A moment later, Professor Ozpin walked in.

“First Councillor,” he said, bowing his head for a moment.

“Professor,” Aspen said. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Indeed, First Councillor?” Ozpin asked, in an irritatingly genial tone. “What a fortunate coincidence.”

The door closed behind the headmaster, who took a few steps into the conference room, although some distance yet remained between the two of them.

It was a distance that Aspen was very happy to leave in place.

“Miss Shimmer returned to Beacon last night,” Ozpin said. “Having survived your attempt to dispose of her.”

Aspen inhaled through his nose. “So you are aware of our arrangement.”

“I am,” Ozpin said coldly. “And it is only because Miss Shimmer did not wish it that I have not paid you a visit to discuss it before now.”

“You disapprove?”

“Very much so, yes,” Ozpin murmured.

“Are you aware of what she did?” Aspen demanded.

Ozpin nodded slightly. “Miss Shimmer confessed that to me also.”

“And yet it is me that you disapprove of, and my actions?” Aspen asked. “Me, when all I do is—”

“Seek to send a girl to her death.”

“I seek justice,” Aspen declared. “Justice that will not visit her any other way.”

Ozpin was quiet for a moment. “You know the truth. You could arrest her for it, if you wish.”

Aspen snorted. “That would drag the whole affair out into the open, as you know. And as you know, Vale cannot afford the alarm that would be caused by finding out that one of its defenders, one of its celebrated defenders, recognised for her actions in the Breach, was in fact willing to throw the entire city away. I offer her a hero’s death and a chance at atonement.”

Ozpin frowned. “Forgive me, First Councillor,” he said, “but I have seen too much death to find anything heroic in it.”

“On that, if nothing else, we can agree,” Aspen muttered, with a glance out of the window. “How … how can you tolerate this? How can you tolerate her, knowing what she did? I do not like you, Professor, and I have not been shy in saying so, but I did not in my wildest dreams think that you would…” He turned away, rubbing at his jaw with one hand. “Is this what you’re teaching up at that damn school of yours?”

“No,” Ozpin said firmly.

“Then why?”

“Because I have lived a long time,” Ozpin replied. “And if my life has taught me anything, it is that forgiveness is always preferable to judgement.”

Aspen’s lip curled into a sneer. “So no one should ever be forced to take responsibility for their actions?”

“With respect, First Councillor, you are the one who decided to cover up Miss Shimmer’s actions, before I did,” Ozpin pointed out. “What you have asked of her is not taking responsibility for anything. And it ends now.”

Aspen looked at him. “Don’t you think you might be overstepping your bounds, Ozpin?”

“Miss Shimmer is my student,” Ozpin said calmly. “I understand my bounds perfectly.”

“You’re choosing to shield a—”

“I am shielding someone who made a mistake,” Ozpin said, cutting him. “And I am choosing to shield the Kingdom of Vale from the consequences of yours.”

“Meaning?” Aspen demanded.

“Meaning that Miss Shimmer did not go alone to Arcadia Lake,” Ozpin said.

Aspen snorted. “Of that, I was made aware already. Did you and Ironwood arrange that together?”

“No, General Ironwood was not informed of the decision of Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer to accompany Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin replied. “Nor was he pleased when he found out. You should thank me that I didn’t point him in your direction when he came to me with questions.”

Aspen ignored that. “Then why—”

“Friendship,” Ozpin said. “Loyalty. The bonds that enable our huntsmen and huntresses to stand together and to triumph. As they did at Arcadia Lake. As Miss Shimmer would not have done had she ventured there alone. What did you really expect a single first-year student to accomplish by herself?”

Aspen was silent for a moment. “With … contact lost, I thought that she would find a dead village,” he admitted.

“Instead, she found a live one,” Ozpin informed him. “One which was defended by the efforts of Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer, in ways that Miss Shimmer alone could not have achieved. Six people are dead because of Miss Shimmer’s mistake, but a village full of Valish citizens are alive today because your mistake was averted by the virtue of Miss Glimmer and Miss Lulamoon.”

Aspen was silent for a while. He turned away from the window, turned away from Bramble playing in the garden. He leaned upon the large wooden table, placing his hands upon it, bowing his head as far as it would go before his antlers touched his arms.

He was silent because there was little to say. Or rather, what there was to say was not particularly what he wished to say. He had seen that contact with Arcadia Lake had been re-established last night, a small detail mentioned in the daily bulletin from the Department of the Interior. There had been no details about Sunset Shimmer, of course, whether she was alive or dead.

It seemed she was alive, and yet, without the help of those two Atlesians, she would have been dead.

And so would everyone living in Arcadia Lake.

Aspen closed his eyes. He didn’t know how many people exactly lived in Arcadia Lake; more than six, he was sure.

He didn’t want to admit that Ozpin was right, but … the man was right, infuriatingly; it was one thing to wish Sunset Shimmer dead, but it was quite another to endanger the people of Vale by making their only shield such a weak reed.

They deserved better from their council.

“I did not seek this office,” he murmured.

“The best never do, First Councillor,” Ozpin said softly.

Aspen snorted. “But I am not the best, am I?”

“It is very early days at present.”

“Oh, for God’s sake stop,” Aspen snapped. “Do you have any idea how damn condescending you sound?” He straightened up, tugging at his jacket to iron out the folds. “Or was condescension your intent?”

“It was not,” Ozpin said. “I apologise if it appeared that way.”

Again, Aspen paused. The words had to be dragged out of his throat with pliers, it felt like. “You are right,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I hate to admit it — as much as I hate you — but you are right. In seeking to avenge lives, I forgot that there are other lives at stake.”

“In my experience,” Ozpin said. “For a huntsman, there is no such thing as a mission where lives are not at stake; sometimes, that is very direct, a village in jeopardy. At other times, information not relayed back may cost lives through lack of preparedness, a creature that is not killed at a certain point will do more damage if left alive. There is no task that you could set Miss Shimmer that would have no side effects if she failed to complete it.”

“And what of the task you set for her?” Aspen demanded. “What of your sending her to Mountain Glenn?”

“Had I known the scale of the threat posed by the White Fang in Mountain Glenn in advance, I would of course have made different choices,” Ozpin said. “I would, of course, have sent a different reconnaissance force. But if I had known the scale of the White Fang threat in advance, there would have scarcely been any need to reconnoitre in the first place. The real mistake made by Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal was not withdrawing immediately once they had detected the scale of the enemy presence. They forgot that their mission was to bring back information, not stop the enemy single-handed.”

“You don’t think there should be consequences for what happened?”

“Have you not already decided that there should not be?” Ozpin asked.

“You know what I mean,” Aspen growled.

“Miss Shimmer will make up for her error, in the days and weeks and years to come,” Ozpin said, with that infuriating calm of his. “But by living and serving in a sensible manner.”

“You still trust her to be a huntress?”

“It will no doubt seem strange to you, but I trust her now more than I did before.”

“You’re right; that does sound strange to me,” Aspen replied. “And a little bit suspect, if I’m being honest.”

It seemed almost as if Ozpin would smile, although he did not actually do so. “I could say it is as simple as having witnessed her contrition, but truth to tell, it is more than that. Miss Shimmer has been … blooded now; she knows what is at stake, she knows the consequence of failure. I find that easier to trust than someone who may still believe that this is all a great and glorious game.”

Aspen hesitated. “I accept your point,” he said quietly. “There will be no more extraordinary missions for Sunset Shimmer. And so … what? We go on, pretending nothing is amiss, fooling the people?”

“Is it not the point of politics to fool the people?” Ozpin asked. “To convince them that nothing is amiss?”

“A very cynical approach to politics,” Aspen said. “I imagine you don’t vote; no doubt you believe all politicians are the same.”

“I don’t vote, no,” Ozpin conceded. “Because it is my job to work with whomever might be on the Council at any given time, and I believe I can do that best by not having preferences.”

“Very public spirited.”

“In answer to your question, First Councillor, yes, we go on,” Ozpin said. “You go on trying to remove me from my post, but leave my students out of it.”

Aspen let out a slightly bitter chuckle. “Very well. Tell Sunset Shimmer that she has nothing more to fear from my wrath … for now.” His expression hardened. “Now get out of my office, and out of my sight.”

Ozpin nodded. “It has been a pleasure to speak with you, First Councillor.”

Evenfall Gleaming. She still lives? I would never have believed it.

I didn’t believe it myself, but while I suppose it’s possible that she was lying, I don’t see what reason she would have to do so. And she had the Dark Regalia, which, again, I suppose she could have taken from the real Evenfall’s body, but again, I don’t see why she would pretend to be somepony that she wasn’t. It isn’t even as though Evenfall is particularly well known outside of students of history.

I had no idea that dark magic could extend your life like that.

There is a great deal about dark magic that is unknown; however, given the risks of studying it, I am prepared to accept a certain degree of ignorance if it means keeping my little ponies from falling into harm. Certainly, it is not a subject that I would like either of my students to delve into.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder, towards her bed, where the Dark Regalia lay in her pack. I will not use them save in direst need. I will not use them, and I’m certainly not going to study how they work.

Don’t worry, Princess, I’m not going to go down that road. I know what I need, and it isn’t that. What I need — what I needed, at least — was to see that trying to do everything on my own was irresponsible, not only for myself but for those that I was trying to save. Without Starlight and Trixie, Evenfall would have made it back to Equestria, and while I’m sure you could have stopped her, Twilight

I’m glad that we didn’t have to. I’d ask you to thank the others for me, but of course you can’t.

I’ve thanked them on my own behalf, so hopefully, that will do.

One thing puzzles me about this, I must confess: what were you doing setting off on this mission alone in the first place, without the support of your friends and teammates? From what you’ve told me, I understood that it was the policy of your school to send whole teams out on these dangerous excursions.

Sunset felt her mouth begin to go dry. She could have answered that question if she and Twilight had been speaking alone — in fact, Twilight could probably guess at the answer already — but Princess Celestia did not know about Sunset’s choice in the tunnel and could not know about it; she could no more know about it than Sunset’s friends could know about it. It would … it would destroy what they had managed to rebuild if she knew how far that Sunset had fallen.

She rubbed the space between her eyebrows as she sought for an excuse. I fear I have not been entirely myself since the battle. I thought that if I left my friends behind, I could protect them, keep them safe from harm by keeping them far from harm. I was a fool.

I will not deny that, Sunset, but I will say that I am glad that you have learned the lesson so swiftly; it takes others far longer.

It helps that I’m not learning it for the first time.

That too is nothing to be ashamed of. Some lessons need a little repetition to sink in, and utter change in an instant is often impossible, much as we would like it to be otherwise. You have survived, and you have time to learn and grow a little longer before you become set in your ways. But please, for my sake, do not backslide again; the fact that you are accompanied by the friends whom you make seem so skilled, and with whom you seem to have such close bonds, is one of the few things that calms my heart when I think of you embroiled in such desperate battles. Please, Little Sunbeam, for my sake, keep them close.

I have already promised my own teammates thus, how can I do any less for you? I promise, Princess; you have my word as your former student, and as an Equestrian gentlemare. I will not be parted from them on the battlefield again. At least, not without insuperable need.

That is not quite so comprehensive a promise as I would have liked.

No, but some things happen that cannot be avoided or escaped; I would not make myself an oath-breaker by accident.

I suppose that would be too much to ask of you. The promise you have given is enough, and I am glad that you are feeling more yourself after what happened to you. I only regret that you will be sent on more such expeditions by Professor Ozpin.

That may be so, but I will bear it better now that I have a better opinion of Professor Ozpin than once I did.

Really?

He is a better man that I gave him credit for. More compassionate than I took him for. I think that you might like him, Princess Celestia, if you could speak to him.

Perhaps I would, and perhaps I will some day.

He is aware of Equestria, although I fear he does not have the best opinion of us as a people and a land.

Why not?

Because we have given Remnant people like Evenfall Gleaming; can you really blame him?

When you put it like that, not really.

Starswirl was my mentor, and I will always remember him fondly for his teachings, his wisdom; I will always be grateful for guiding me on the path that led me to rule Equestria and for preparing to rule, I think, well and do good for all my little ponies. And yet at the same time, just as I am not above criticism, just as I have made mistakes, so Starswirl is not exempt from censure. It seems that he thought too little of Remnant and of those who dwelled there, that he was careless with it, loosing Equestria’s problems upon it without a care for how those already living in Remnant would receive them.

The fact that Professor Ozpin is annoyed does not make Starswirl wholly wrong, no matter how justified Professor Ozpin’s annoyance might be in turn.

The fact that Professor Ozpin’s annoyance is justified pretty much makes Starswirl wrong by definition, doesn’t it?

You think you can only be justifiably upset with someone who’s in the wrong?

I suppose not, but I still don’t fully take your meaning.

I mean that it was rough on Remnant to drop, for example, Evenfall upon them the way that Starswirl did, but we weren’t there; we can’t know what he was up against. Actually, no, that’s a lie; I do know what he was up against, and she would have beaten Trixie, Starlight, and Ditzy if Trixie hadn’t figured out how to turn the rules of the living nightmare against her at the last minute and fight her on terrain she couldn’t match. In a straight contest of her magic, amplified by the Dark Regalia, against their strength, she would have won. Maybe she would have beaten Starswirl too, if it isn’t too disrespectful to say so; after all, she had crafted the Dark Regalia to increase her power; what if she increased it beyond his own? What if he had no choice but to banish her to Remnant because she was winning?

That’s a fair point, I suppose, and between thinking that Starswirl was flawed and thinking that he was callous, I suppose flawed is the better option.

You can still be a fan of a flawed person. I have fans now, apparently, and I’m about as flawed as you can get.

Really? You have fans?

No need to be so surprised about it!

Sorry.

It’s fine. I was a little surprised myself, but apparently, the First Councillor’s son admires me. Apparently, there aren’t too many faunus huntsman to look up to.

And how does it make you feel, to be a role model?

Sunset sucked on the back of her pen as she considered her response. Before, it would have puffed my ego. Now, it feels a burden that I neither deserve nor am equal to. Beyond that, I also feel the need to earn his respect. No, perhaps 'earn' is not the right word; 'justify' might be a better choice of words. I feel the need to model in my actions what he already believes me to be.

That is precisely what it means to be admired.

Come now, Princess, you cannot feel unworthy of the love your ponies bear you.

Celestia: And why not? Why should I be immune from such doubts?

Because She blinked rapidly, scarcely comprehending what she had read on the page. you’re Princess Celestia; you, of all ponies in Equestria, are well worthy of all good things that are said of you and more. You are worthy to be praised and raised and applauded and placed upon a pedestal, if any are.

From what you have told me the same might be said of your friend Pyrrha, but how does she feel about that?

Sunset kept on blinking. You have always felt thus?

Always.

You never let on to me.

It was not your burden to bear, especially not at so young an age. And yet now, I think it might help you to know that that fear will never leave you: the fear that you are not, that you cannot be, all that they think you are. All that they need you to be. And yet, that same fear will also inspire you and drive you to be better, so that you may live up to their expectations, and that is no bad thing at all.

Now your expectations too are laid upon me.

I’m sorry, Sunset, I didn’t mean to burden you further.

It is not a burden, far from it. It is a blessing. If I can make you proud, if the only things that I accomplish in this world are to see my friends safely through these wars and make you proud, I will count myself well blessed.

Oh, Little Sunbeam, you have already made me proud.

Say it not, for I am undeserving, Sunset thought, feeling a knot in her stomach at the praise she had not earned. Then I must act in a manner worthy of your pride.

What will you do if Evenfall returns?

Without the Dark Regalia, I fear her less; with my friends by my side, I have no doubt we can overcome her.

Nice to hear some confidence returning. I have good news, by the way: I’ve managed to work out how to open the portal and let your friends come through to Equestria.

'By the way'? That’s not a ‘by the way’; why didn’t you say something earlier?

You were talking.

Well you should have interrupted me then. How did you do it?

It was actually Pinkie who worked out how.

Pinkie Pie?

That’s right.

Pinkie Pie worked out how to solve the issue of opening a magical portal at will across worlds.

Please don’t say it like that.

I’m sorry, but really?

Once she pointed out that an at-will conduit already exists between Equestrian and Remnant in the form of these two journals, it was quite easy to extrapolate.

Twilight paused, and Sunset felt as though she were being given a chance to try and get the answer for herself. She thought for a moment. Are you going to use the magic from the book to power the portal?

The magic is interspatial.

Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you, Twilight; this will mean a lot to Penny. I hope it will mean something to Blake, too.

You’re welcome.

Now, if you will both excuse me, I need to call and tell them about it.

Equestria (Rewritten)

Equestria

The airship rattled a little as Penny bounced up and down upon the balls of her feet — and on the floor.

"Settle down, Penny," Rainbow instructed her, calling over her shoulder from where she sat in the cockpit, guiding The Bus down towards the landing pads at the back of the school.

"Sorry!" Penny cried. "I just … I'm just so excited!"

Rainbow grinned. "I get it, believe me," she replied. "Just try not to rip the belly out from the airship, okay? We'll be there in just a little while longer."

"Right," Penny said. She paused for a moment. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash, for bringing me out here."

"What else was I going to do?" Rainbow asked. "Make you walk all the way from Atlas to Canterlot?"

"You're really looking forward to this, huh?" Blake asked. Rainbow couldn't see her in the central section, any more than she could see Penny, but her voice carried into the cockpit, as did her fondly amused tone of voice.

"I … I don't know if I've ever been so excited," Penny confessed. "I mean, we're talking about a whole new world, about magic, about wondrous and wonderful things like I've never seen before! Like no one's ever seen before! A world where…"

There was a moment of silence, a moment where Blake must have been waiting for Penny to continue before realising that she would not. Only then did Blake say, "I have to admit, it does sound idyllic, doesn't it? A world without grimm, without war, without hatred."

"A world where you can be anything you want," Penny murmured.

"That can be this world too, if you want it to be," Blake murmured.

"Maybe," Penny replied. "My father said … he told me that I'd need to come back to Atlas, to get repairs or maintenance. That I'd never be free if that. But in Equestria—"

“Hey, Penny,” Rainbow said, cutting Penny off.

She guided The Bus the last few feet down to the ground, feeling only the slightest bump as she set the airship down upon the landing platform. She unbuckled herself and got up out of the pilot’s seat, moving to stand in the entrance to the main section where she could see Blake and Penny. Blake was sitting down on one of the benches near the door, while Penny was standing up in the centre of the airship.

“Listen, Penny,” Rainbow started again, “don’t get your hopes up too much, okay?”

Penny looked at her, her big green eyes blinking. “What do you mean, Rainbow Dash?”

“I mean,” Rainbow said, “that it’s great to be excited. It feels great. Even when you can’t sleep because you’re so excited about what tomorrow will bring, so you just lie awake waiting for the morning to come so that you can rush downstairs, that kind of excited; there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem is that, when whatever it was that you rushed downstairs for doesn’t live up to your expectations, then … then you can get really disappointed. More disappointed than you would have been if you had more realistic expectations about what it was going to be like.”

“What are you saying?” Blake murmured. “That you don’t think Equestria can live up to Sunset’s hype?”

“I think if Equestria is that great, then what’s Sunset doing living here with us?” Rainbow asked. “I’m sure that it’s a great place, but it can’t possibly be so much better than what we have here, right? I’m just saying … I want you to enjoy this, Penny; I don’t want you to come away disappointed because you were expecting the moon, and you only got a piece of the sky.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I understand,” she said softly. “But it’s still a world of magic, so it’s bound to be pretty cool, right?”

Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, it does sound cool, I admit,” she said. “And here we are. Now to find out what we need to do next.”

Sunset had told them to go to Canterlot, to the combat school there, and that she would tell them what to do once they got there; Rainbow didn’t understand the need for secrecy, but maybe Sunset wanted to keep track of where they were so that she could make the arrangements for Penny and Blake to be met and welcomed on the other side.

Either that, or she just enjoyed keeping them in suspense.

Or maybe both.

Whatever it was, Rainbow got out her scroll and called Sunset, holding out one hand to lean against the frame of the airship as she waited for Sunset to answer.

Penny leaned forward a little, as though she were hoping for a better look at Sunset when she answered; Blake remained seated.

Sunset answered, her face appearing on Rainbow’s screen. “Hey,” she said. “Are you at Canterlot?”

“We just landed,” Rainbow said.

“Are Blake and Penny with you?”

“No, I flew all this way without them,” Rainbow said.

“Hey, Sunset!” Penny cried.

“Hi, Sunset,” Blake called out.

Sunset smiled. “Is everyone looking forward to a trip to a magical land?”

“YES!” Penny shouted loudly, her voice echoing inside The Bus.

“Sure am,” Blake agreed. “We’ve been discussing if it’s going to live up to the hype.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Sunset asked.

“Nostalgia can give us rose-coloured glasses,” Blake pointed out.

“I guess,” Sunset acknowledged. “But in this case, just trust me. You’re going to love it. Now, just let me let Twilight know that you’re here.”

“Twilight?” Penny asked.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle, she’s the one who is going to activate the portal so that you can use it. Hang on.” Sunset must have put down her scroll, because the view changed to the ceiling of Team SAPR’s dorm room at Beacon, while Sunset’s face disappeared from the sight of Rainbow’s screen. “The reason I wanted you to call me,” Sunset went on, her voice disembodied now as it emerged from Rainbow’s device, “is that I didn’t want the portal to be opened up for too long before you were there, otherwise it could have been discovered accidentally, and anyone could have fallen through into Equestria, and we don’t want that, do we? But, now that you’re there, I can tell Twilight to activate the portal, and we should be okay. I’ve just told her now.”

“Told her how?” Rainbow asked.

“I’ve got a magic book that I can write things down in, and the words appear in another book in Equestria,” Sunset said.

Rainbow blinked. “Really?”

Sunset poked her head into view on the screen. “Yeah. Blake and Penny are about to travel to a new world, but the idea of a magic book surprises you? It’s just like a scroll.”

“A magic, interdimensional scroll,” Rainbow replied.

“I guess,” Sunset acknowledged. “Anyway, Twilight has just told me that she’s going to start activating the portal now. She can’t tell me when it’s actually been activated because she needs to use the book to power the portal itself — I won’t bore you with the technical details as to why — but I’m sure that by the time you get over there, the portal will be open for you.”

“Get over where?” Penny asked.

“Go to the Wondercolt Statue in the yard,” Sunset told them. “You remember where that is, don’t you, Rainbow Dash?”

“Sure,” Rainbow said, and with her free hand — straightening up first so that she didn’t fall over — she hit the button on the wall that caused the side door of the airship to open up, exposing Canterlot to view. It was morning, but not too early: the skies were blue and clear, the sun was high in the sky without approaching the height of noon, the birds were singing. It was a lovely day.

Not that Penny and Blake would be enjoying it for long.

Rainbow leapt down out of The Bus; Penny swiftly followed, with Blake getting up from her seat to follow on after that.

Rainbow locked the door behind her — she meant to go back there and wait for them … well, probably she meant to go back to the airship and wait for them, but in the meantime, she felt it best to shut the airship up anyway.

“It’s this way,” she said, gesturing with her free hand, holding her scroll up in the other, looking left and right as she walked briskly but quietly — trying to be quiet, anyway — across the school grounds.

“Is everything okay?” Blake asked, glancing around herself.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Rainbow replied. “I just don’t want to get caught, that’s all.”

“Does it matter if we get caught?” inquired Penny. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Maybe not,” Rainbow allowed. “But I don’t want to explain to Principal Celestia that you two were on your way to visit a magical kingdom.”

“There are worse things that you could be doing,” Sunset pointed out.

“They wouldn’t sound insane to anyone we tried to tell about them,” Rainbow replied.

“Is anyone else there?” asked Penny, as the three of them walked around the side of the combat school.

“Here in the room? No,” Sunset answered. “Pyrrha and Jaune left this morning; they’re going to visit Jaune’s folks.”

“That sounds nice,” Penny declared.

“We’ll see,” Sunset muttered. “Ruby’s having a private meeting with Professor Ozpin.”

“How do you feel about that?” asked Blake.

“Not bad, actually,” Sunset replied. “I hope that she gets what she’s looking for out of it.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” Sunset said emphatically. “I’ve had a chance to think about things. To reflect. To realise that I have made misjudgements. And one of those misjudgements concerned Professor Ozpin. He’s a better man that I gave him credit for. Anyway, once Ruby’s done with him, then we’re going to go out and do … something. I owe her some time.”

Rainbow looked up from her scroll. The Wondercolt statue stood directly before her, the marble stallion rearing up on its plinth.

“We’re here,” she said.

“Great,” Sunset said. “Now, Blake, Penny, do you see what looks like a mirror built into the side of the plinth facing the school?”

“I see it,” Penny answered.

“Me too,” Blake added.

“You need to step through it,” Sunset said.

“Excuse me?” Blake asked. “You want us to step into a mirror?”

“It’s not a real mirror; it’s the magic portal disguised as a mirror,” Sunset explained. “Once you step into it, you'll be sucked through and transported to Equestria, emerging out of another mirror in Canterlot — my Canterlot, Equestria’s Canterlot. Then you go through that mirror at the end of the day to come back again.”

Rainbow looked at the mirror. It looked very mirror-like, and not like a magic portal at all.

“That’s all we have to do?” asked Penny. “We just go through the mirror?”

Sunset smiled. “There’s not a little dance you have to do beforehand, Penny.”

Penny nodded. “Okay then,” she said. She clasped her hands together for a moment, then smiled and began to walk up to the mirror.

Rainbow and Blake followed, trailing closely behind her as Penny approached the mirror without stopping, without slowing.

The mirror continued to look like a sheet of glass, and Rainbow couldn’t help but half expect that Penny was going to smack into it as she—

There was a flash of light as Penny reached the mirror. Bright light, blinding light, light that made Rainbow turn away for a moment, her eyes closing.

When she opened her eyes and looked again, Penny was gone.

Penny was gone, and there was a slight rippling of the mirror before it settled again.

“My gods,” Rainbow murmured. “Penny?”

“On her way to Equestria by now,” Sunset said. “I told you.”

“Yeah, you did,” Blake murmured. She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

The corner of Rainbow’s mouth twitched upwards into a smile. “Have fun,” she said.

Blake nodded. “Sunset.”

“Have a great time,” Sunset instructed her.

Blake turned away, and a momentary sudden breeze blew through her long, wild black hair as she too approached the portal.

There was another flash of light, and when Rainbow looked for her, Blake too had disappeared.

“Huh,” Rainbow murmured.

“So,” Sunset said from out of the scroll. “What are you going to do while you wait for them?”

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Rainbow replied, without really replying at all. “Later, Sunset.”

“Rainbow—” Sunset was cut off as Rainbow snapped her scroll shut and put it in her pocket.

She walked towards the portal, more slowly than Blake or Penny had, more cautiously; she tilted her head sideways a little as though that would help her to get a better look at it.

It occurred to Rainbow that this wasn’t unlike what Doctor Pietro had been talking about when Rainbow went down to see him, that Ground Bridge thing he had been working on, the way to transport people over huge distances.

To transport people across whole worlds.

Rainbow reached out her fingertips towards the mirror, then drew back. She hadn’t been invited.

But at the same time…

A world of magic.

A world without war.

A world without grimm.

Rainbow glanced left and right, and over her shoulder too. There was no one around, nobody watching.

She hadn’t been invited.

But what was one more visitor? What was the difference between two and three?

Rainbow took one more glance around, took a deep breath, and plunged headfirst into the portal.

Blake was surrounded by a sea of colours; they danced around her in pink and blue and green and yellow, pulsing as she was pulled along, circling like food going down a drain. She heard someone crying out — it might even have been her — but she couldn’t be sure because her head was spinning even more than she was. She only knew that she was being sucked along, being pulled to somewhere down this tunnel of light.

And then, suddenly, everything went black.

It took Blake half a second to come to her senses and realise that was because she had her eyes closed.

“I really, really hope that you’re Penny and Blake, or else this is going to be really awkward for everypony.”

“Twilight?” Blake murmured as she started to open her eyes.

As her eyes opened so, they beheld a dark blue chamber, with a purple carpet upon the floor on which she lay, soft to the touch of her … why couldn’t she feel her fingers? Blake’s panic started to rise up in her throat like bile; where were her fingers? Why couldn’t she feel them? Why was there just this stump on the end of her arm and why didn’t it feel like an arm at all and—

“I’m telling you this because I want you to know the truth, the whole truth, which is—”

“That you’re a horse.”

“A pony, a unicorn, to be exact.”

“But you—”

“Assumed this form, adjusted for age, obviously, when I passed through the mirror. Equestria … Equestria is a magical land full of magical, talking ponies … and so am I.”

That was what Sunset had told them, in the dorm room, the night before they had set off for Mountain Glenn. She had told them that the mirror — Blake should have remembered the mirror, instead of being so surprised — had transformed her from a unicorn into a faunus. It made sense, then — eminent amounts of sense, so much sense that she ought to have seen it coming — that the transformation would work both ways, that she, coming the other way, would be transformed into a … into a pony.

Am I a unicorn now?

Can I do magic?

Blake’s thoughts were interrupted by a squeal of delight from Penny.

“We look,” she cried, “so CUTE!”

Blake turned her head to look at Penny, who did indeed look very cute — and not at all what Blake had been expecting.

Sunset had told her — and told Penny too, presumably — that Equestria was a world of ponies. Yes, it was a magical world, and some of the ponies were unicorns or pegasi who could do magic, and yes, Sunset had even admitted that she had an amber coat, but still … ponies. Horses. Small horses, but horses nonetheless.

And so, if she had thought about it, if she had considered the fact that she might be transformed into another species by this journey, then Blake might have expected to come out — and for Penny to come out — looking like a horse.

Penny did not really look like a horse.

Yes, she was on four legs, but so was a dog and a cat, and you wouldn’t call either of them horses; it wasn’t even the fact that Penny had a coat of very pale green, the colour of the green stripes on her smock which had mysteriously disappeared, leaving her naked.

No, it wasn’t that — that, at least, Blake could have prepared for, given what Sunset had already told them. No, it was everything else.

Penny’s eyes were the same colour as they had been, but they seemed to have gotten much, much bigger, until they took up most of her face; or perhaps her eyes had stayed the same size but the rest of her head had just gotten a lot smaller. Her face did not seem particularly equine to Blake; it rose up above the neck rather the descending from it, it was round and soft instead of long, and Penny’s nose — or snout — protruded outwards from her face like … like a nose.

Albeit it did not protrude very far; it was rather small, like a button nose. Small and, it had to be admitted, rather cute.

Penny’s hair — or should that be her mane? — had come through the mirror completely unchanged: it was the same shade of red that it had been, it had the same well-combed bangs coming down over her eyebrows, it was the same length and was rolled in just the same way at the ends, curling around her face. The pink bow that she wore in her hair seemed to have been the only part of her outfit to make the transition to Equestria intact, although Blake couldn’t imagine why it should be so.

Penny’s tail was the same colour, and like her hair, it was rolled up at the end before it touched the floor.

A little horn, as green as her coat, softer and rounder at the tip than Blake might have been expecting, emerged from out of Penny’s copper-coloured hair — or mane.

She did, indeed, look very cute.

Blake picked herself up — her hooves felt softer than she had been expecting, if indeed you could really call them hooves at all and not simple continuations of her legs — and turned to face the mirror out of which she had emerged into this new world. Unlike the mirror set into the plinth at Canterlot, this mirror was freestanding, a big, old-fashioned sort of mirror that towered over Blake and made her wonder who in this world was so big as to need a mirror this size. It was surrounded by various objects and items — a bellows pump, a large copper canister, wires and tubes, a couple of metal poles glowing with lavender light — that Blake could not guess the use of except that it involved magic somehow. In any case, she found herself less interested in them than she was in her own reflection in the magic mirror.

In body and shape of face, she looked the same as Penny. She looked exactly the same as Penny, all differences between them in height and build having been shaved away in the transformation process. In colour, eye, mane, and tail, they were different, however, as was emphasised when Penny came to stand next to Blake so that they could look at their reflections together.

Blake’s coat was a moderate grey, while her eyes were as golden as they had ever been — although, as with Penny, either her eyes had gotten bigger, or the rest of her face had gotten smaller. Her mane was jet black, long and wild and tangled, draping down across her back and down her forelegs almost to the floor. Her tail was shorter, else it really would have been on the floor, but no less wild and unruly to look at.

Blake, like Penny, was naked, but like Penny, it seemed that one accessory had come through the mirror with her unaffected by the magic: the silver honour band Sienna Khan had given her, which yet gleamed upon her foreleg just below her shoulder.

A pair of wings, as grey as the rest of her coat, sprouted from her sides, although 'sprouting' might be a bit of a misnomer considering that they were presently tucked in against her sides.

“This,” Blake said, “is not what I was expecting.”

“But it’s great, isn’t it?” Penny said, her eyes seeming to grow ever wider — if that was possible — and gleam with eager gleefulness.

“I—” Blake began, but she was interrupted by their reflections disappearing from view as the mirror began to ripple before them like a pool of water. There was a flash of light, bright light mingled with a blue blur, and as Blake turned her face away from the light, she felt something slam into her hard enough to knock her across the room.

Her eyes were closed, but Blake felt herself hit the floor back first, then bounce upwards, her wings spreading out involuntarily on either side of her before she landed on her belly, legs splaying out on all sides.

She groaned wordlessly.

She wasn’t the only one.

“Sorry about that,” Rainbow moaned. “I didn’t realise that I was going to come out so fast.”

“Ugh,” Blake murmured. “It’s fine, I don’t think…” She paused while her brain caught up with her ears. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Rainbow Dash?!” Twilight cried. “What are you…? Wait, you’re Remnant’s Rainbow Dash, aren’t you?”

Blake opened her eyes, and for the first time, she was in a position to see not only Rainbow Dash, but also Twilight Sparkle — Princess Twilight Sparkle, the Twilight Sparkle of Equestria, the Twilight Sparkle who had made it possible for them to be here.

She was familiar in some respects; her eyes were the same shade of violet, although Princess Twilight didn’t seem to need to wear glasses — possibly because she didn’t spend so much time looking at a screen — and her mane was the same dark purple, with streaks of a lighter shade of the same and a touch of raspberry pink just above one eye — the same colouration applied to her long tail, as well, where it rose upwards in a sort of crescent before descending again. Her mane was even cut the same at the front, with those square bangs precisely sheared off just above her eyes, although at the back, it was not as long as Blake might have expected. Twilight’s hair — Blake’s Twilight, Remnant’s Twilight — was, when she wasn’t wearing it up in some form of bun, so long as to reach down to her waist, after all, but Princess Twilight’s mane seemed shorter, curling around her ears in a way that the other Twilight’s hair never did. Her coat was lavender, and the horn that emerged out of her mane was longer and sharper at the point than Penny’s was, while the wings that were unfurled behind her seemed bigger than Blake’s.

In fact, Princess Twilight seemed to be taller than they were; she was quite possibly the tallest pony in the room.

She was certainly taller than Rainbow Dash, if not by much; it was possible to compare their heights as Rainbow got up, and Twilight was definitely bigger, which seemed wrong somehow. Rainbow seemed to have been made into the same height as Blake and Penny, given the same build as them besides in a way that seemed to Blake almost unnatural, if that word had any meaning in their current situation.

Rainbow Dash was blue, cyan possibly, and like Blake, she had a pair of wings tucked in on her flanks. Her eyes were magenta, and she had retained the rainbow colours of her mane — and her new tail — and the same style too, spiky and messy and reaching down to just below her neck.

She had only one set of ears, Blake realised; she and Rainbow Dash each had only one set of ears, equine ears rising up out of their hair.

At least I don’t seem to have any trouble hearing anybody.

“Guilty,” Rainbow said. “Hey, Twi.” She paused. “No, wait, we haven’t actually met before, have we?”

“Uh, no, we haven’t,” Twilight murmured. “What are you—?”

“What are you doing here?” Blake asked.

Rainbow glanced at her. “Well, it didn’t seem fair that I flew you both out here and I don’t get to see this place for myself just because Sunset doesn’t think I deserve a field trip.”

“Well, I guess the more the merrier,” Twilight said, with a touch of — slightly nervous, perhaps — laughter in her voice. “There’s no one else you’re expecting to come through, is there?”

“Not that I know of,” Rainbow said.

“Great,” Twilight said. “Then let’s shut this portal off for now so that that stays the case.”

Her horn began to glow, a purple light surrounding it in the same way that Sunset’s hands would light up whenever she used her magic — so they didn’t use their hooves for magic, huh? As Twilight’s horn glowed, so too did the brown leatherbound volume emblazoned with Sunset’s emblem on the cover, which Twilight levitated out of its perch on top of the mirror and onto a gleaming white table in the corner of the room.

Twilight cleared her throat, and smiled at them. “So, welcome to Equestria! I recognise Rainbow Dash, but which of you is Penny, and which of you is Blake? You are Penny and Blake, right? I asked earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

“Salutations! I’m Penny! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” she said with a wave of her hoof.

“And I’m Blake,” Blake said. “Blake Belladonna. Thank you for having us.”

Twilight’s smile faltered slightly. “Sunset’s told me about what you’ve been through; to be honest, I can hardly imagine it, or what it must have felt like. Sunset thinks that coming here, if only for a little while, can help you, and I hope that’s true.

Penny raised one hoof, swaying a little on her remaining three legs but ultimately keeping her balance. “Excuse me, Princess Twilight?”

“Just Twilight will be fine, Penny,” Twilight said. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

“Twilight,” Penny said, “why do Rainbow and Blake have those marks on them but I don’t?”

Blake looked around for the mark to which Penny was referring, finding it on the thigh of her rear leg: her emblem, the black belladonna flower, although to be honest, she had always thought it looked as much like a dark flame as it did a plant.

Rainbow had her symbol too, in the same place: the cloud, with the streak of rainbow lightning shooting jaggedly out of it. Twilight had a mark too: the six-pointed star, with five lesser stars arrayed around it like consorts.

But on Penny’s flank, there was nothing, nothing at all, just a pale green coat.

“Interesting,” Twilight murmured.

“Do you know why it is?” Penny asked. “Is it because I … because I’m not … because I’m a—”

“I’m sure that isn’t it, Penny,” Rainbow said with a glance at Twilight.

“Indeed, I think there’s a much simpler explanation,” Twilight declared. “Those symbols are called cutie marks, and ponies aren’t born with them. We’re all born like you, Penny, with a blank flank. Cutie marks manifest sometime in foalhood, although exactly when varies; some ponies develop faster than others; the point is that a cutie mark appears when a pony discovers their…”

Penny leaned forward a little. “Their what?”

“Their special talent is the usual way to phrase it,” Twilight explained. “For example, my special talent is magic.”

“That’s rather broad,” Blake murmured. “I thought this was a land awash with magic.”

“It is,” Twilight replied. “But for most unicorns, the limits of their magic are defined by and related to their special talent as defined and represented by their cutie mark; so, my friend Rarity has a talent for—”

“Beautifying things,” Rainbow said.

Twilight smiled. “Of course, you know a Rarity in your world too, don’t you? Yes, and so, that talent informs the nature of her magic: she can use it to find precious gems hidden under the earth, and she possesses an incredibly deft and precise telekinesis that she can use to stitch together stunningly elegant and finely detailed dresses. I, on the other hoof, because my talent is magic, have access to a much wider possible range of magical abilities. Pretty much any kind of unicorn magic is open to me, if I’m willing to study it.”

“Which you are, because you’re Twilight Sparkle,” Rainbow said. “A Twilight Sparkle, anyway.”

“So I have a blank flank because I haven’t figured out what my talent is?” Penny asked.

“That could be it,” Twilight allowed. “Although I’ve come to find that the standard formulation around special talents is … a little limiting, and not altogether precise. It puts more focus upon the discovery than I think is warranted; it seems to me that what is really important in the acquisition is not discovery, but rather, acceptance; acceptance of who you are, of the path that you want to follow, of what you want to give to the world around you. If you’re still a blank flank, Penny, I think the most logical explanation is that you haven’t found out who you want to be just yet.”

“I … I see,” Penny murmured. “It must be nice to have something that tells you that you’ve made the right choice.”

“When you make your choice,” Twilight replied, “I think you’ll know, even if a cutie mark doesn’t appear on your thigh.”

Rainbow scratched the back of her head with one hoof. “So … Penny … how do you … feel?”

“What do you mean, Rainbow Dash?” Penny responded. “I feel fine.”

Rainbow frowned. “I mean, are you … did the magic mirror … are you still a robot?”

Penny didn’t answer for a moment. “I … yes, yes, I think I am, but … I’m not the same robot, if that makes sense. It’s as though my systems have been rerouted, or my pathways have become redundant; I don’t have access to some systems, but I have access to other whole new systems. I can…” She screwed up her face, wrinkling her nose, scrunching her expression up in concentration, as her horn began to glow with a green light.

It was faint at first, nothing like the light that had illuminated Twilight’s horn, nothing like the like that surrounded Sunset’s hands, but as Penny concentrated, as a wordless noise emerged from out of her mouth, a growl of effort, the light around her horn grew brighter and stronger. Soon, the light had spread, surrounding the book with Sunset’s emblem on it, the book that Twilight had placed upon the table.

Penny closed her eyes, and the book was lifted off the table, lifted by no hand but by magic, up into the air.

Rainbow gasped. “Yeah! Open your eyes, Penny, you’re doing it!”

“I am,” Penny whispered, opening her eyes. “I am! I am !”

She began to laugh for joy, laugh like a child as she began to wave the book around the room, turning it in lazy circles around her head like a bird seeking a mouse in the field. Her eyes were wide, and a bright light shone within them.

The glow of her magic was reflected in those eyes and made them sparkle.

“I am,” Penny repeated. “I’m doing magic.”

“Yeah, you are,” Rainbow murmured, a smile growing upon her face.

Twilight chuckled. “So,” she said, “are you ready to get out of this room and see a little bit of Equestria?”

“Just a moment,” Blake said. “So, you’re not the Twilight Sparkle that we know in Remnant; you’re a different Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight nodded. “That’s correct.”

“Right,” Blake murmured. “So does that mean that we all have counterparts in Equestria? Is that something that we need to worry about? What if we run into our counterparts? Is it going to—?”

“Cause a paradox that will destroy the world?” Rainbow guessed.

“I was going to say ‘will it cause anyone to freak out,’” Blake said with a glance at Rainbow Dash, but then her head whipped around with a severely concerned expression back to Twilight. “Will it cause a world-ending paradox?”

“I wouldn’t have let you come here if it would,” Twilight pointed out. “I’d like to help you and do Sunset a favour, but not to that extent.”

Rainbow let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, of course.”

“Fortunately, Equestria’s Rainbow Dash is a friend of mine,” Twilight said.

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “Even in another world, we found each other?”

Twilight nodded. “We all did. Me and y— me and my Rainbow Dash, I mean, and Fluttershy and Pinkie and Rarity and Applejack. As I say, since Rainbow Dash is my friend, I think she’ll be okay with meeting another version of herself, which is good, because I asked her to join us later. She’ll probably think that it’s pretty cool, actually. As for you two … I did some research, some looking around as to who your counterparts were, but I’m afraid I couldn’t find any information about a Penny Polendina. But I was able to find out about your counterpart, Blake, and we won’t have to worry about meeting the other Blake.”

“Won’t we?” Blake responded. “Why? Does she live somewhere else?”

It was strange; objectively speaking, it made absolutely no difference to her what this other person, this pony who just so happened to bear the name Blake Belladonna, did or thought or who she was or how she lived. And yet, at the same time, she wanted to know. She wanted to know very much because, even though this was someone else, a different person with their own life who had grown up in a completely different world, at the same time, it was still her. She had the name Blake Belladonna, she looked like her … their souls shared a common root. All right, Blake had no proof of that, it was pure speculation, but it was speculation informed by … well, look at Rainbow Dash! Look at Twilight! Rainbow had said it herself: even in another world, they found each other.

Blake wasn’t the kind of person to believe in destiny; her parents and Sienna Khan might have brought her up in a manner that was at least partly Mistralian, might have passed onto her certain elements of the Mistralian culture alongside the ‘native’ culture of the faunus that had been preserved or recreated by historians and antiquarians after the war, but the Mistralian sense of destiny was lost upon her. She would make her own fate, for herself and her people, by her actions. But Twilight, Rainbow Dash, the fact that they had found each other even in another world … if that didn’t suggest some numinous force at work, then what would?

Finding out about this other Blake, her other self … it felt like discovering the outcome of the road not taken. Another life she could have had, a life she might have known if she had … if things had been different, if she had been born not into a world of struggle but of peace.

Twilight’s horn flared with a lavender aura that enveloped it, and also enveloped the folded-up newspaper sitting on the table by the door, the newspaper that rose at Twilight’s magical command and floated over to Blake. “I found this in a Manehatten newspaper. To be honest, it wasn’t particularly hard to find.”

Blake looked at the paper that was being held up before her eyes. Twilight had already conveniently highlighted around the edge of the relevant article, circling it in bold red pen.

Heiress to Wed Corporate Successor

The business world and Manehatten society were delighted by the announcement yesterday of the engagement of Miss Blake Belladonna and Mister Adam Taurus.

Blake froze. Her eyes widened. Engagement? The other her was marrying Adam? The other Adam, another Adam true, but still … marrying Adam? Didn’t she realise what he was? Couldn’t she see? Why was the other Blake being so foolish?

Even as her eyes continued to read, Blake’s mind was halfway to planning a rescue mission.

Miss Belladonna is the only daughter of the steel magnate Ghira Belladonna

Magnate? My father is Jacques Schnee in this world?

and has been a darling of the Manehatten scene since making her debut last year; she has often been seen in the company of Mister Taurus, and friends described the news of the engagement as far from unexpected.

I’m Weiss in this world?

Adam Taurus started with the firm as elevator boy and, with grim determination, worked his way up to the top. It was also announced that, following the wedding, planned to take place next summer, he will become general manager of the entire vast Belladonna Corporation; Mister Belladonna intends to take a step back from the day-to-day business of the organisation and devote his time to his philanthropic ventures.

Adam is the Jacques Schnee of this world? Blake thought, remembering what Weiss had told her about her father.

There was a picture underneath the article. It was a photograph of the other Blake — who looked exactly like Blake did now, except that her hair was arranged into a controlled and elegant beehive on top of her head — and a scarlet unicorn with Adam’s eyes. They looked like they were at some kind of party; Adam was wearing an old-fashioned suit, with a carnation in his buttonhole; Blake was wearing a purple gown that billowed out around her hindquarters, and a necklace of black pearls clasped around her grey neck.

There was no brand on Adam’s face. There didn’t look — and Blake admitted it was hard to tell from a single photograph — to be any of the scars on his soul that had so ruined the once good man that she had known. The Adam and Blake in this picture looked as though they hadn’t a care in the world. They were smiling, no, laughing at something that one or the other had said. And the way they looked at one another, with Adam looking down at Blake and Blake looking up at Adam, and in their eyes, Blake saw nothing but adoration for one another and contented happiness in one another’s presence.

This Adam Taurus of Equestria had not been born into darkness, brutalised in the mines, had his dreams crushed before his very eyes. He might not have been born to great wealth and station — not if he had started as an elevator boy at least — but he had worked hard, and his hard work had paid off: he had won the kingdom and the hand of the princess, and it was difficult at this remove to say whether it was his wooing or his work ethic which had paid the greater dividends in winning both. This Adam Taurus would not die in the same darkness that had birthed him, consumed by hatred and resentment; this Adam would never be forced to take up arms against a sea of sufferings because, in this world, there had been space for him to thrive.

And what of the other Blake, this Blake who reminded the Blake who stood and read of her more of a kind of Weiss Schnee than she did of herself? This other Blake, the other her that Blake didn’t know and would never meet, had never had to learn to fight or kill; she had never grown up in a world where it was kill or be killed, never had to worry about the twin menaces of the grimm and the Atlesian military. What did she do all day, in this world where there were neither monsters nor prejudices to be fought? What would Weiss do if all the grimm in Remnant were suddenly to disappear in a snap? Did this other Blake support her father in his philanthropy? Did she devote herself to music, art, literature? Did she simply sit around all day looking pretty? Whatever the choice, the point was that she — the other Blake — had a choice in a way that Blake never had. Had possibilities in a way that Blake never had.

Blake realised she was crying. Tears fell from her eyes down her little snout.

“Blake,” Twilight murmured, as she put the newspaper away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Blake shook her head. “It’s not like that,” she said quickly. She smiled, even as her eyes continued to water. “She’s happy. She looks so happy.”

Penny reached out and placed a hoof upon Blake’s shoulder. Rainbow watched her, but at times seemed not to want Blake to notice that she was watching her, turning her head away and glancing at Blake out of the corners of her eyes.

Twilight smiled gently. “Welcome to Equestria. All of you. Now, what do you say that we get out of here, and I show you a little more of Canterlot?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Penny said.

“Sounds good to me,” Rainbow added.

Blake wiped at her eyes with one hoof. “That … yes, of course. Let’s do that. Let’s see if this place is all that Sunset made it out to be.”

Twilight laughed. “I’m not sure what she’s been telling you, but I hope you like what you find out here.”

Her horn flared again, and the door opposite the mirror opened, revealing a corridor decorated in the same dark blue as the room in which they stood.

“If you’ll follow me,” Twilight said, and turned away from the three visitors from Remnant to walk out into the corridor. Penny followed eagerly, a beaming smile upon her face.

Blake found herself hesitating for a moment, remaining where she was, taking a moment to compose herself. She took a deep breath, and then another.

Rainbow Dash approached. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Blake assured. “Yes, I’m fine, I just … if you knew that if things were different, you could have had a completely different life, free from hardship—”

“What makes you think I didn’t?” Rainbow asked. “You don’t think this other Rainbow Dash grew up in a slum, do you? I mean, I hope not, after all that Sunset talked up how great this place is.”

Blake snorted. “That’s a very good point,” she conceded.

“It happens from time to time,” Rainbow said. She reached out and booped Blake on the snout with one hoof.

“Hey!” Blake cried, recoiling slightly. “What did you do that for?”

Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t know, it just … it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“I just wanted to see what it would feel like, okay?” Rainbow said.

Blake shook her head. “We should probably catch up with Penny and Princess Twilight.”

“SALUTATIONS!”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

They emerged out of the room and trotted swiftly down the corridor, following the sound of Penny’s cry until they came across her, having cornered the equine equivalents of Pyrrha and Ruby.

The magical mirror had erased all height differences between Blake, Penny, and Rainbow Dash, rendering them exactly the same in body shape, distinguished only by whether they had horn or wings, but it appeared that Pyrrha Nikos was a statuesque stunner in any dimension.

She was a cream-coloured unicorn, tall and slender, noticeably taller not only than Penny, but also the taller Princess Twilight too; she towered over Penny, over every pony in the vicinity; even her horn was longer, and sharper at the point besides. She also had a noticeably slender build which Blake found strange. Pyrrha might not be the strongest girl in their year physically, but only Rainbow Dash had more visible definition on the muscles of her arms. And yet, this Pyrrha, the pony Pyrrha, had incredibly thin, stick-like legs, as though that was the trade off that she had to make for being so tall. And yet, it was unmistakably Pyrrha; her long red hair proved that, tied back into a ponytail that flowed behind her, resting on her back a little before cascading down her flank to almost touch the floor. That, and her vivid green eyes. That, and the fact that she was wearing a gleaming golden circlet upon her brow.

Ruby, on the other hand — or other hoof, in this particular world — was wearing a helmet, a gilded helmet with a blue crest which made her look a bit like Flash Sentry and made it difficult to see her mane. You could see her eyes though: eyes of pure silver, gleaming in a coat of red.

They both wore gleaming gilded cuirasses, covering their chests and backs.

They were both always backing away ever so slightly, confused and apprehensive looks in their eyes as Penny followed them. She had managed to get herself up onto her hind legs, and her snout was pressed against Pyrrha’s.

“I can’t believe I get the chance to meet other versions of the two of you!” Penny cried. “And you both became… whatever the right word is, but it shows that you both still want to help people and that’s so cool! Are you dating Jaune in this world too, Pyrrha? Is he taking you to visit his family?”

“J-Jaune?!” Pyrrha cried. “D-dating? Visit Jaune’s family?”

“It’s so good to see both of you!” Penny declared, wrapping her forelegs around their necks and pulling them into an embrace.

Ruby let out a strangled sound, her own forelegs waving. “Princess Twilight,” she said, her voice strangled and strained. “What’s going on?”

“Uh,” Twilight murmured. “You see, um—”

“Penny,” Rainbow said, as she and Blake drew near. “Come on, Penny, let them breathe. Remember, just because you recognise them doesn’t mean that they recognise you.”

Penny looked at her. “What do you mean? Why would … oh. Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she yelped, releasing Pyrrha and Ruby and backing away from both of them. “I’m so, so sorry, I… I thought that you were someone else!”

“'Someone else'?” Pyrrha repeated. “But … but Jaune—”

“It’s very complicated,” Twilight said, stepping in. “Please, don’t tell anyone about this; it’s … it’s something of a secret. And it would be best if it stayed that way.”

Pyrrha and Ruby glanced at one another.

“You can rely on our discretion, Princess Twilight,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head.

“Not a word will pass our lips!” Ruby added.

“Thank you,” Twilight said. “I, uh, yes, thank you. Um … come along, everypony.” She turned away and continued on down the corridor.

Penny followed, glancing apologetically towards the pony Pyrrha and Ruby.

And this time, Blake and Rainbow followed on afterwards.

Pyrrha and Ruby watched them go.

“One of those was Rainbow Dash,” Ruby observed. “The Element of Loyalty. I didn’t recognise the other two, though.”

“I’m sure that Princess Twilight has many friends besides the bearers of the Elements,” Pyrrha murmured. “She is the Princess of Friendship after all.”

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “I wonder what that was about though.”

“I’ve no idea,” Pyrrha said softly. “And we probably shouldn’t ask.” She looked away from the Princess and her companions.

“Jaune’s family,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“Hmm?” Pyrrha asked, realising abruptly that she’d said that out loud.

Ruby grinned. “You were thinking about what she said, weren’t you?”

“N-no, I…” Pyrrha sighed, hanging her head a little. “It would be wonderful,” she murmured, “to be taken to see his family.”

It would mean … it would mean that he valued her, saw her as somepony who could become a part of his family.

Of course, it would help if she could work up the nerve to ask him out first.

But he didn’t see her in that way. She was too tall, perhaps.

“We should continue with our patrol,” she said, turning away and leading Ruby in the opposite direction to the princess, her friends, and the strange words that she had spoken.

“So,” Rainbow said, “is this your palace, Twilight?”

“No,” Twilight said, “my palace isn’t nearly as big as this. Not that it isn’t quite big and grand enough; I still get lost there sometimes. Although that might have something to do with the fact that I just don’t go into large parts of it unless I have to, and so I’ve never really learned the layout of a lot of it. I can find my way between the rooms that I visit, but I guess that when I’m asked to venture off the beaten path, I’m still a little hopeless.”

“Why are you leaving parts of your own palace empty and unused?” Blake asked.

Rainbow grinned. “Must be nice to have so many rooms that you don’t need to use loads of them.”

“You’d think,” Twilight said, with a slight sigh in her voice.

“Is something wrong, Princess Twilight?” asked Penny, uncertainly.

“No,” Twilight said. “I mean, not anymore. There was a time when the whole palace felt wrong. Not this palace, of course; I’m talking about my palace.”

“What was wrong with it?” inquired Rainbow Dash.

“It didn’t feel like my home,” Twilight replied. “The library was my home; it was where I lived when I first came to live in Ponyville—”

“'Ponyville'?” Blake repeated.

“It’s a town, not too far from Canterlot; it’s where I spend most of my time,” Twilight explained. “It’s where I was sent by Princess Celestia to study the magic of friendship. And I did that from the Golden Oaks Library, until it was destroyed, and I got my palace — it’s a bit of a long story. Anyway, the point is … the palace didn’t feel like my home. It didn’t have the bed that I used to sleep in, it didn’t have the books that had surrounded me, it didn’t have the memories that I’d made there; it was just … it was just a big, cold, palace that I had to live in now.”

“But now?” Penny pressed. “Things changed, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, a smile blossoming upon her face. “My friends changed things.”

“Yeah, they did,” Rainbow said, as though she had been one of the friends in question.

“You realise you’re not included in this, right?” Blake murmured.

“I know,” Rainbow replied.

“What did they do?” inquired Penny.

“Got me out of the palace for a spa day and then secretly fixed up the place while I was out,” Twilight explained. “I think it took them a while, although they could tell the story of this event far better than I could, because I wasn’t there, obviously, but when I got back … they’d made my castle a home.” She chuckled. “And that’s why I’m the proud owner of the only palace in Equestria with a tree stump for a chandelier.”

Rainbow frowned. “A tree stump? I don’t follow.”

“The library was a tree,” Twilight explained. “Sorry, I should have mentioned that earlier.”

The three visitors from Remnant looked at one another.

“You lived in a tree?” Blake said.

“It was a rather big tree,” Twilight said.

“Well, I suppose that makes all the difference, doesn’t it?” Blake murmured dryly.

“What was it like?” Penny demanded. “Living in a tree, I mean?”

“It wasn’t actually something I noticed from day to day,” Twilight said. “I mean, it wasn’t like I was sharing it with woodlice or anything else. It wasn’t like living in the nasty, cold, draughty, jagged edges inside of a tree, no, this was a pony house, and that means comfort. It just so happened to be a home carved out of a hollow tree. But it still had walls and bookshelves and a cellar and an upper floor and a balcony where I could stargaze with my telescope.”

She chuckled again. “Although I ended up carrying my telescope out to one of the hills around Ponyville as often as not, because the balcony wasn’t that big, and stargazing is one of the many things that it turns out is better with friends. I remember this one time, a shower of meteors was due in the night sky overhead, and so we all got together on top of the highest hill close by Ponyville, a beautiful view of the whole town, except that most of the village was actually around the hillside with us. All my friends were there, and Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and for a long time, we just stood or sat, and we ate the snacks that Applejack and Pinkie had made, and we talked about … about nothing really. About nothing and yet about everything at the same time. And then the shooting stars began to blaze across the sky, shining so bright, even as she shined so briefly. I remember Scootaloo climbed up onto you— onto Rainbow Dash’s back so that she could get a better view of them.” She paused for a moment. “Sorry, that story doesn’t really have much of a point to it; it’s just a pleasant memory.”

“Don’t worry,” Rainbow assured her. “I get it. I think we all do.”

Twilight glanced at her. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, the answer to your original question is no, this is not my palace; this palace belongs to Princess Celestia, and to her sister Princess Luna.”

“'Princess Celestia'?” Blake repeated. “She’s the one who taught Sunset, right?” Blake didn’t add that she was the same one, in that case, whom Sunset had run away from.

“The very same,” Twilight confirmed. “She taught Sunset, and then when Sunset had … gone away, she taught me too.”

“Twi, um, Princess Twilight, can I ask something?” Rainbow said. “Without meaning to be rude or anything, but what are you? Penny is a unicorn, and Blake and I are pegasi, but what are you? You’ve got wings and a horn.”

“I’m an alicorn,” Twilight said.

“A what?” Blake asked.

“An alicorn,” Twilight repeated. “A… alicorns combine the strengths of all three pony races, unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies; that’s why I have the horn of a unicorn, the wings of a pegasus, and—”

“And you’re bigger than the rest of us like an earth pony?” Penny guessed.

“Not all earth ponies are larger,” Twilight corrected. “But I suppose you could say that it’s representative of that aspect of me now.”

“That sounds very special,” Penny declared.

A faint blush rose to Twilight’s cheeks. “I suppose you could say that. Thanks to Princess Celestia’s tutelage, and to the lessons that I learned from my friends in Ponyville, I was able to ascend to become an alicorn, and a princess.”

“Are all princesses alicorns?” Penny asked.

“At the moment, yes.”

“Including Princess Celestia?”

“That’s right,” Twilight confirmed. “Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are both alicorns, of much greater lineage and power than myself. Princess Celestia not only taught Sunset and I, but has ruled over the whole of Equestria for over a thousand years.”

“What?!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Seriously?”

“You sound so surprised,” Twilight noted.

“It is a thousand years,” Blake pointed out. “People don’t usually live that long in Remnant.”

“Ponies don’t usually live that long here in Equestria either,” Twilight said. “But Princess Celestia — and Princess Luna — are exceptions. They’re immortal, as far as I know.” She paused for a moment. “All that we have, all that we are, all that is good and wonderful in Equestria is testament to the success of Princess Celestia’s rule and how fortunate we are to have her watching over us. Oh! Here we are!”

They had come to the end of the corridor, with a door guarded by two ponies whom Blake did not recognise, but who bowed to Twilight as she drew near. Twilight gave them a slightly strained smile, before her horn flared, and she pushed open the dark doors.

The now open doorway revealed a room that was both long and narrow and at the same time absurdly spacious. It was narrow in the sense that it was much longer than it was wide, and so seemed from this angle to form rectangle, but even though it was much longer than it was wide, one had only to look at the size of it — one had only to consider what little of it Blake could see from here — to realise that there was no dangerous of running out of space. And that was before one stopped to consider the height of the ceiling, which was enormously high, especially by the standards of the ponies that they had all become, but even if they were small by the standards of their kind — which it did not seem they were — twenty pony Pyrrhas stacked on top of one another like the tiers of a cake could not have gotten anywhere near that vaulted ceiling.

Columns of marble, or perhaps a pale porphyry, lined the walls, while the floor gleamed, save for where it was covered by the long red carpet that ran lengthwise across it to the raised dais upon which sat the throne.

The throne which was, at the moment, empty. In fact, the whole room was empty, bereft of any ponies but them, silent as a crypt as Twilight led them in.

Between the columns, upon the walls, were many windows of stained glass, some depicting geometric shapes that might — Blake had no way of knowing for sure — reflect the moment of sun and stars, some depicting the sun shining down upon rolling green fields or equally rolling and rollocking blue waves. And others still—

“That’s you!” Rainbow exclaimed, pointing at one particular window. “That’s all of … that’s all of you. All of your friends.”

Blake followed Rainbow’s pointed hoof. She heard Penny gasp softly behind her as they beheld the object of Rainbow’s surprise.

The window did indeed depict Princess Twilight Sparkle, and the pony Rainbow Dash, and the equine counterparts to Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, and Applejack as well. They were all easily recognised by their manes, which they wore in much the same style as the people Blake knew wore their hair. The ponies were all depicted upon a field of green, each surrounded by a halo of lavender, a halo which was shooting forth beams of energy towards the most ungainly creature that Blake had ever set eyes upon, a creature that was an amalgam of many different animals, with the body of a serpent and one claw of a bird and other bits and pieces that Blake couldn’t even begin to guess at. He was surrounded by what looked like an explosion of lavender as the beams struck him, and his pose and expression made it seem as though he had been shocked.

Twilight let out a little nervous laugh. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah, that’s me. Princess Celestia likes to celebrate my accomplishments. Our accomplishments.”

“What are you doing?” asked Penny.

“That’s my friends and I … defeating Discord,” Twilight explained.

“‘Defeating’?” Rainbow repeated.

“Who is Discord?” asked Blake.

“He was an enemy; now he’s a friend. I’d rather not go into too much detail,” Twilight said.

“‘Enemy’?” Rainbow quoted. “‘Defeated’? Sunset said this place was safe. Sunset made this place out to be some kind of peaceful paradise.”

“Compared to what Sunset has told me about Remnant, I’d say that’s not wholly unfair,” Twilight said, only a little defensively. “But it isn’t entirely true, either. I would say that Equestria is perfectly calm and peaceful … twenty-two twenty-sixths of the time.”

“That’s very specific,” Penny pointed out.

“I like to be precise,” Twilight replied.

“And the other four twenty-sixths of the time?” Blake asked.

Twilight hesitated for a moment. “Then there are problems,” she admitted. “And we deal with them.”

“You’ve dealt with a few problems,” Rainbow muttered, drawing Blake’s attention to the fact that several of the stained glass depicted Twilight in some form or another, usually accompanied by her friends.

“Like I said, Princess Celestia likes to celebrate my accomplishments.”

“So you’re a soldier too, huh?” Rainbow asked. Blake was surprised to hear regret in her voice.

“No,” Twilight said, her own voice quick and sharp, cracking like a whip. “No, I … I was a librarian. I am a princess. I’m a princess and a scholar and a bookworm and a philosopher of magic and a friend. But I’m not a soldier, and I’m not a hero.” She paused for a moment. “Being a hero … to me, it’s not about what I’ve done or how many times I’ve saved Equestria; it’s … it’s a state of mind. A state of—”

“Of putting others over yourself,” Rainbow murmured. “No, even over those closest to you, even if the people you're putting over them aren’t people you know, even if they don’t matter to you at all.”

Twilight was silent for a moment, but she nodded. “Exactly. And that’s why I’m not a hero. Why I’m not sure that I’d want to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Rainbow replied. “Maybe … maybe being a hero is overrated anyway.”

Twilight’s mouth twitched in a slight smile. “I’ve saved Equestria … five and a half times now,” she said.

“How do you save a place half a time?” Blake asked.

“Well, Cadance and Shining Armor took care of Chrysalis in the end,” Twilight said, “but they wouldn’t have been able to if I hadn’t rescued Cadance first, so I think I deserve a little credit.” She laughed softly. “But none of it, or all it, none of these windows or getting praised by Celestia in front of the court, wings or crown, or any of the rest of it means so much to me as the memory of us all on the hillside that night, watching the shooting stars. That might not make sense to you—”

“It makes perfect sense,” Blake and Rainbow Dash said in unison.

They both glanced at each other.

Twilight covered her mouth with one hoof as she giggled. “Anyway,” she said, “why don’t we get out of here, and I can show you the rest of the city?”

Twilight, despite having brought them into the throne room, seemed relieved now to get them out of it, leading through more corridors, with walls of white and carpets of red, where the guards bowed to Princess Twilight as she passed by. Eventually, they came out of the palace, emerging onto a balcony — a set of stairs led down from it, winding around the outside of a tall round tower towards the ground — from which they could behold a great city spread out before them.

“And this,” Twilight declared, “is Canterlot.”

“Wow,” Rainbow said, approaching the edge of the balcony, resting her forehooves upon the rail. “It … it’s bigger than our Canterlot for sure.”

“It’s … beautiful,” murmured Blake in awe.

Canterlot was a sight to behold: a great city, a beautiful city, a city built not upon the steep slopes of the mountain as Mistral was, but rather, jutting out of it, expanding out onto the empty air as though magic enabled it to defy physics — and perhaps it did; who was Blake to say that it did not? It was a city of gleaming spires, tipped with golden domes burnished bright and appearing brighter still by the light of the sun. It was a city of streets paved with green stones of unequal size, a city of white walls and purple-tiled roofs and striped awnings in many bright and brilliant colours. It was a city of hanging baskets and al fresco dining tables with spindly metal legs and flags of many colours fluttering in the wind.

It was a city where nothing seemed ugly; whether they were great palaces and mansions or the less opulent cafes and shops that lined the city boulevards, there was a beauty or at least a charm to all of them, and though Blake found the prevalence of hearts in the decoration a little much, she found that that, too, had its own appeal, in the way that a girl can wear flowers or ribbons in her hair in ways that a woman cannot.

Whether the city was as archaic by the standards of Remnant as it appeared or whether, like Mistral, this was a city hiding its advancement behind old clothes as though innovation were a thing to be ashamed of, Blake could not tell, but she could tell that this was a metropolis as bustling as Atlas or Mistral, for all that it was inhabited by a very different kind of denizen. It was hard to see exactly who was moving around in the streets below, but in the skies before them, Blake could see pegasi flitting across the blue, darting between the colourful but cumbersome dirigibles that floated between the clouds.

“What do you think, Penny?” Rainbow asked.

Penny ran forwards, joining Rainbow Dash at the balcony rail, looking out across the gleaming spires. Her eyes were wide — even by the standards of the unusually wide eyes that they possessed as ponies — and her mouth was open in a beaming.

“I think … I feel…” She trailed off, and as she trailed off, it was the strangest thing, but Blake thought that she could hear music from somewhere: a low bass and a steadily building beat.

Without a word, Penny darted away from them, plunging down the stairs that circled the tower, leaving the other ponies to run after her.

And as she descended the stairs, Penny started to sing.

“Good morning, Sun,

No time to chat, I’ve gotta run,

Cause I’ve got places to be.

So much to do,

Excited, yes, and nervous too,

A change is starting with me!”

“Is this a song you know?” Blake asked.

“No, I think she’s extemporising” Rainbow said. “But we can still back her up when she gets to the chorus.”

“How will you know-”

“We’ll know,” Trust me,” Rainbow said. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Penny had almost reached the bottom of the stairs, but paused just before that, before she plunged into the streets and the teeming mass of ponies moving along them.

“I used to worry about upsetting carts, hardened hearts,

I’d wonder ‘will I belong?’”

Penny dived into the crowd, darting nimbly between the moving ponies to leap up onto the edge of a fountain.

“I’ve heard it enough,

I’m calling their bluff,

I’ll never get lost in the grey!

There’s something inside,

Burns bigger than pride,

Shines out of me lighting the way!

Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day!”

“Be my day!” Rainbow echoed.

Blake stared at her, eyebrows rising.

“Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day!”

“Oh-oh-oh!” Rainbow and Twilight chorused, bringing their heads together as though they were both singing into the same microphone.

“Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day!”

There was a crack and a flash of lavender light as Twilight teleported herself, Blake, and Rainbow Dash onto the sides of the fountain to join Penny.

At this point, Blake decided that she’d probably have more fun joining in than wondering what was going on, and so added her voice to the others for, “Be my day!”

In fact, no sooner had she joined in than Blake found herself … seized by something, possessed by a sudden force, because no sooner had the chorus ended than it was not Penny who continued to sing, but rather, Blake herself.

The whole world seemed to go dark around her, as though night had suddenly descended and only a single spot of light remained, illuminating Blake herself as she sang.

“Everyone’s afraid,

Always judgin’, never budgin’,

Ain’t it time we made,

The team, the dream,

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh ooooh!”

Penny took over once again as light returned to the world.

“Let’s cross a new aisle,

Let’s flash a new smile,

Let’s sparkle right out of the grey,

We’ll open our eyes,

Sun starting to rise,

And finally able to say:”

And this time, every pony around them, every pony who had been going about their business a moment ago, joined in as they thronged about them.

“Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day,

Gonna be my day,

Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day,

Gonna be my day,

Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day,

Gonna be my day,

Gonna be my day,

Be my day!”

And then … it was over. The music stopped and every pony resumed what they were doing as though it hadn’t happened.

“That … that did really just happen, didn’t it?” Blake asked.

“Yep,” Twilight confirmed. “It just … it just comes over you sometimes. It’s a lot of fun, isn’t it?”

“That was amazing!” Penny cried. “Can we do it again?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that,” Twilight said. “It happens when it happens, and you can’t force it. To be honest, I feel like it’s been happening to me less and less, which is … a little disappointing.”

Canterlot was not a perfect city, as Blake observed as the tour continued; it was beautiful to look at, but it also became clear that it was a city home to no small amount of snobbery and classism: ponies in old-fashioned gowns with puffy shoulders, or else with frock coats and tall hats, sneered at the ponies who were less well-attired — who were, presumably, less well-off as they were less well-dressed — as they went by. That was not good, obviously, but at the same time, Blake took hope from the fact that those doing the sneering were unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi, while those being sneered at were likewise unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi.

Twilight must have picked up on what Blake was thinking, because she launched into a story about the Rarity of this world and how she had once been forced by circumstances to pass herself off as a Canterlot socialite, for fear that being known to have originated in Ponyville would have been the social ruin of her, unicorn or no.

“What about after?” Blake asked. “I mean, the truth came out eventually, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Twilight admitted. “But Rarity just opened her boutique here in Canterlot — Rarity For You; we’re going to stop there to pick her up before lunch — and business is booming, so I think that she’s doing okay, Ponyville or not.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “Rarity just opened a boutique?”

“Her second actually; she already had one in Ponyville,” Twilight said.

“Rarity has two boutiques!” Rainbow cried. “Okay, how old are you? How are you so much more accomplished than us, and come to think of it, how come Sunset is younger than me when she was Princess Celestia’s student before you?”

“Remember, they aren’t human,” Blake pointed out. “It’s quite possible that they age and mature at a different rate to us.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Twilight said, and very pointedly did not answer any question about her age.

Canterlot may not have been the perfect paradise free of vice that Sunset had said, it may not have been completely free from war or conflict as Sunset had said, but it was certainly a peaceful city, the most peaceful place that Blake had ever known. Even in Vale, which was not exactly a city of war, you could never quite forget that you were sitting in a fortress of light and life, and of course, for the last semester, the skyline had been taken up by the cruisers of General Ironwood’s fleet, the same kind of ships which dominated the skyline of Atlas in the exact same way. Even in Mistral, where Blake had spent a little time before Adam had been assigned to lead the Vale chapter, she could see people carrying weapons out on the streets, there were job boards where huntsmen could get work, and of course, the city walls that kept the grimm at bay.

There was none of that here. No pony went armed, not even the guards in their gilded armour — and they were few in number at any rate, compared to the number of other ponies on the streets. There was no wall, no gate, no airships armed for battle. This was not a city that was enjoying peace but prepared for war; this was a city that knew true peace — if only twenty-two twenty-sixths of the time.

Blake was, quite frankly, envious.

And yet, at the same time, she felt invigorated. It was not just a dream, what she and Weiss and Rainbow Dash had talked about. It was real, it existed, it was right here before their eyes, and if it existed here, then it could be built in Remnant too, could it not?

They were the same people, after all; the same names, the same eyes, the same hair … the same souls too, perhaps. It seemed that there were connections between them stretching across space. Why, then, could they not achieve all that their counterparts had achieved? Maybe not the peace — that was more difficult with Salem around — but the equality? The harmony between races?

Why should they suffer while their counterparts were blessed?

They met up with some of Twilight’s friends for lunch outside of Rarity For You, the Canterlot boutique owned by the pony Rarity. Amongst those friends was the other Rainbow Dash, the pony Rainbow Dash of this world, who jumped a little at the sight of her other self.

“Twilight! You didn’t tell me that the other me was going to be coming!” cried Pony Rainbow Dash.

“It was kind of a last-second impulse decision,” said Rainbow.

Pony Rainbow chuckled. “That does kind of sound like me.”

“It sure does,” said Applejack.

Pony Rainbow blinked. “So … if we touch, will it end the world?”

“No!” Twilight said firmly. “Why do you both think that?”

They retired to a nice restaurant, where Twilight and her friends told the story of how they had all met up in this world.

“Princess Celestia had asked me to supervise the preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration,” Twilight explained.

“What’s the Summer Sun Celebration?” asked Penny eagerly.

“It’s a festival held every year to celebrate Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. “Ponies celebrate all night, and then at dawn, the sun and moon briefly share the same sky as Princess L— well, at the time this happened, Princess Celestia lowered the moon and raised the sun up into the sky.”

“'Raised the sun'?” Rainbow said. “'Lowered the moon'?”

“Did Sunset not tell you that Princess Celestia raises the sun each morning?” Twilight asked.

“No,” Rainbow said. “No, she didn’t.”

“Oh,” Twilight murmured. “Well, she does.”

Rainbow blinked. “Huh. This really is a magical place, isn’t it?”

Twilight smiled. “Anyway, the focus of the celebration is always where Princess Celestia herself is, and anypony there can watch her rise into the sky, silhouetted against the sun as she raises it to its zenith. And I was charged by the princess to supervise the preparations, which just so happened to include each of my friends — except for Pinkie Pie.”

“Although I was the first to meet Twilight,” said Pinkie. “We got off to a great start.”

“I said ‘hello,’ and you gasped at me and ran away,” Twilight reminded her.

“To throw you a really awesome party!” Pinkie insisted.

“Ah believe Ah was the next one you met,” Applejack declared. “And we saw you nice and well fed, didn’t we?”

“You certainly did,” Twilight agreed, rubbing her stomach reflexively. “And then it was Rainbow Dash, who was supposed to have cleared the sky ready for the ceremony.”

“I would have gotten around to it eventually,” Pony Rainbow said. “I was busy.”

“Busy napping?” Applejack suggested.

“Busy saving my strength,” Rainbow insisted. “But I cleared the whole sky in ten seconds flat, just like I told you I could, so why does it matter that I was taking my time getting to it?” She grinned. “I still remember the way your mane looked when I was done!”

“I remember that too, darling; I had to fix it,” Rarity murmured.

“Why don’t we tell them what happened after that?” Pony Rainbow suggested. “When we stopped Nightmare Moon?”

“No, let’s not get into that,” Twilight said quickly, with the same modesty that she had demonstrated in the throne room earlier.

After lunch, they watched an air show, in which the Pony Rainbow Dash was part of a team of stunt flyers, the Wonderbolts, dressed in flight suits of blue lycra emblazoned with flashes of yellow lightning. The event was not particularly well attended, at least it didn’t seem to be so, but Twilight explained that ponies valued one another’s personal space, and so, they didn’t pack in crowds as tightly as might have been the case.

Blake wasn’t sure if she was just saying that to cover up the fact that there weren’t many ponies here to watch the show.

Regardless, there should have been more ponies here to watch the show, since it was a spectacular sight to see the ponies soaring through the sky not only with speed, but with grace too, swooping and diving through hoops that seemed to be made of cloud, cloud that was not disturbed at all by the beating of their wings. As they watched, Blake noticed Rainbow Dash leaning forwards more and more, her magenta eyes growing wider and wider, flickering back and forth as she muttered under her breath.

“Are you—?” Blake began, but Rainbow held up one hoof for quiet.

Once the show was concluded, they retired to Twilight’s old room, a somewhat dusty place with a great many books, where Twilight showed Penny some more magic — which ended up just watching Penny move things around the room, taking glee in every act of telekinesis that she performed.

It was like … it was like watching a child learn to walk, and no less charming.

The sun set with abrupt speed, descending from its zenith to out of sight in mere moments — Blake supposed that made sense, if it was being lowered by Princess Celestia, but at the same, it was no less disconcerting to witness. It was like one of those old myths that suggested the sun was being pulled across the sky by a celestial charioteer, but even they had had the grace to imply that it took said charioteer a whole day to move the thing. What Princess Celestia had done was more akin to flicking a light switch, although perhaps it had taken more effort from her perspective.

In any case, it was the signal that their day was over, and the time had come for them to leave.

And so, they returned to the room in which they had first emerged into this world, the room with the mirror and all its attendant magical equipment.

As she levitated the book into its place above the mirror, and as all the tanks and tubes and everything else began to pulse and vibrate with magical energy, Twilight turned to the three of them and said, “Have you had a good time today?”

“Absolutely!” Penny cried. “I only wish that it could have gone on longer.”

Twilight smiled. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Hmm?” Rainbow said. “Yeah, it’s been great! That display of flying … the other me has some serious skills.”

“She’ll be very happy to hear that.”

“No, she won’t,” Rainbow said. “She already knows that she’s got skills.”

Twilight chuckled. “That’s very true. Blake?”

“I still have one question,” Blake murmured. “How did you do all this? How did you make this world so … so…”

“Harmonious?” Twilight guessed.

“Yes, exactly,” Blake declared. “Was it always like this?”

“Oh, no,” Twilight replied. “In fact, there was a time in our history when the three tribes of ponies were bitterly divided by hatred.”

“I’m finding that a little hard to believe,” Blake said.

“But it’s true all the same,” Twilight insisted. “In fact, the reason why our ancestors came into Equestria—”

“They didn’t always live here?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“No, they migrated here,” Twilight informed her, “after their old home was frozen over by the windigos, forces of nature empowered by hatred and conflict. That’s how bad things were in the past; the three tribes literally destroyed their world because they couldn’t live with one another.”

“Then what changed?” Blake demanded. “What led you from that to this?”

Twilight said, “The story goes that the leaders of the three tribes, accompanied by their faithful lieutenants, went on ahead to scout for new homes for their people. That journey led them to Equestria, a green and fertile land which each tribe claimed for their own. That renewed conflict brought the windigos after them, but as they huddled in a cave for warmth and a little protection, the three lieutenants were able to bond with one another over their shared experiences. And as the ice closed in around them, they declared that no matter what happened next, they were glad to have met one another. That bond, that spark of friendship, ignited a fire that drove away the windigos and was the first step towards unity between all three tribes.”

Blake frowned a little. “That really happened?”

“Do you think that Twilight Sparkle would lie to you?”

Twilight gasped. “Princess Celestia!”

Celestia. Blake turned to look upon Equestria's princess and Sunset's teacher, and she stopped. She stared in awe. Princess Celestia's coat was shimmering samite, which glowed more brilliantly than the gold and amethyst-set necklace clasped about her throat or the gilded slippers set upon her hooves. Her hair, a myriad of complementing colours, flowed behind her like a great river. Her flank bore the mark of the sun, and in the Equestrian night, she was the sun, she shone so brightly on this balcony. She did not give light; rather, she almost was the light, and Blake could not look away though she be blinded by it. Majesty radiated from her like aura, and wisdom lay within the depths of her eyes. How could Sunset have ever borne to be parted from such, Blake wondered? But of course, the sundering was not by Sunset's own choice, in which case, Blake did not and could not blame her for wishing to put as much distance — a world's distance — between them.

She bowed her head. "Princess Celestia."

Princess Celestia chuckled. “You have no need to bow to me; I am not your princess, after all.” She paused. “Rainbow Dash, I am surprised to see you here.”

Rainbow coughed. “I … I’m not the Rainbow Dash that you know, Princess.”

Princess Celestia’s mouth opened slightly. “Oh! Oh, I see. You have also come from Remnant! Forgive me; I thought there would only be two of you.”

“That … was the plan,” Rainbow murmured.

Princess Celestia laughed. “Well, never mind that now. Have you enjoyed your visit to our land? Have you found what you were looking for?”

“I … I’ve found something, Princess,” Rainbow murmured. “I don’t know if it was what I was looking for, but I’ve found it.”

“I might have,” Blake said. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of lying, Twilight, but that story … it sounds like the sort of story that might be told by mythmakers looking to create a history.”

“And yet it is as true as we stand here,” Princess Celestia told her.

“Then it is a pity that there are no windigos in Remnant to impose cooperation,” said Blake softly.

“I would not wish for any additional monsters in your world,” Princess Celestia said. “It seems that you have enough already.”

“That’s true,” Rainbow muttered.

“And yet it hasn’t brought us any closer together,” Blake said.

“The Hearthswarming was the beginning of the story, not the end,” Princess Celestia informed. “To make Equestria the land we live in now, to bring about the harmony in which my little ponies live, that was the work of many hooves, over many generations. And yet it all began with the friendship of three ponies, and that, I find, is a very encouraging thing.”

Blake glanced across at Rainbow Dash and thought about Twilight and their other friends back in Atlas, and about Weiss Schnee. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, it is. Thank you, Princess. Thank you, Twilight, for letting us come here.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Penny added.

“Who knows?” Twilight asked. “Maybe we’ll see each other again someday?”

“I hope so,” Penny replied.

Nevertheless, for the moment, they all turned away and faced the magic mirror. They lined up facing it, their reflections visible in the glass.

And then, as one, they plunged through.

Once more, the lights swirled around them; once more, Blake felt herself pulled inexorably onwards through the tunnel, spinning round and round until she staggered out, with Penny and Rainbow on either side of her.

Clothed and faunus once again.

The sky was dark. The moon was up. And two women stood in front of them, one of them bearing in hair and eyes a striking resemblance to the Princess Celestia they had just left behind.

“Principal Celestia, Vice Principal Luna,” Rainbow said. “Um, I can—”

“So,” Principal Celestia said, folding her arms. “How was Equestria?”

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: The fact that Sun is no longer in this chapter, but Penny and Rainbow Dash are, necessitated a complete rewrite of this chapter, about the only thing that has really stayed the same was that Pony!Blake is marrying Pony!Adam. Everything else is pretty new.

This chapter... is a lot less heavy than it was in the original, there's less important or portentous things discussed, whether that's good or bad I can't say, but it's mainly a function that the characters are not as down on themselves as they were before.

Conversation with the Principal (New)

Conversation with the Principal

Rainbow Dash had never been in the staffroom at Canterlot Combat School before. This was not the circumstance under which she’d envisaged that she would get to see inside of the staffroom.

It was not as nice as she would have expected.

It wasn’t bad, by any means; it was a comfortable kind of room, with a cool blue wallpaper on the walls and soft chairs in a variety of colours — Principal Celestia was sitting on a green one and Vice Principal Luna a blue one, while Rainbow, Blake, and Penny were all together on a beige settee, with Penny in the middle — and the light green carpet didn’t look too worn down. On the other hand, it was not exactly the retreat of luxury that Rainbow might have been expecting. Where was the snooker table? And why was the coffee machine kind of … average?

“Because this is a school, Rainbow Dash,” Vice Principal Luna reminded her. “Any budget should be spent on the students first, staff second.”

Rainbow winced. “Was it that obvious, ma’am?”

“A little,” Vice Principal Luna said, although she smiled as she said it to show that she bore no malice. She and Principal Celestia were both wearing trouser suits, neither of them armoured for the hunt, with Principal Celestia wearing a gold jacket over her white and purple blouse and purple pants, while Vice Principal Luna wore a blue jacket over a lavender blouse and dark blue trousers.

Rainbow drank some of the average quality mocha from out of the machine, the little polythene cup compressing between her fingers just a tiny bit. “So … you know about the portal. You’ve always known, haven’t you?”

“We would be poor guardians of it if we did not,” Vice Principal Luna declared.

“Obviously, as Principal and Vice Principal, our foremost responsibility is the education of the students,” Principal Celestia said, “but one of our secondary duties, along with the defence of Canterlot, is to monitor the portal through to Equestria and ensure that nobody goes through it.”

“You failed,” Penny pointed out.

“Penny!” Rainbow hissed.

Principal Celestia smiled. “It’s quite alright, Rainbow Dash. Miss … Polendina, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Penny said. “Penny Polendina, at your service.”

Principal Celestia nodded. “Miss Polendina is correct. We were remiss in our duties.”

“Although in our defence, the portal is not supposed to be active at the moment,” Vice Principal Luna added. “The portal only activates for three days every thirty moons, and it is ten moons still until it is next due to open.”

Rainbow glanced at Blake and Penny. She opened her mouth, but then stopped herself, and then said, “How much do you know about what lies on the other side of that portal?”

“Not as much as you who have just been there, I’m sure,” Vice Principal Luna murmured.

“We know that it leads to a place called Equestria,” Principal Celestia said, “inhabited by creatures who resemble ponies, although they are a sentient race capable of speech and intelligent thought.”

“They don’t really,” Blake said. “Resemble ponies, I mean. From what I could tell, the equine similarities are very vague.”

“Really?” Vice Principal Luna asked. “You see? That was not something we knew.”

“But they do call themselves ponies,” Rainbow said. “And they, the ponies, managed to work out a way to activate the portal outside of that thirty moon period.”

“They did? Fascinating,” Principal Celestia said, leaning forward a little. “They did this with some of their magic, I suppose?”

“You know about that too?” Rainbow asked.

“One can hardly be set to guard a magic portal without being told that it is magic,” Principal Celestia pointed out. “Although I don’t understand why the ponies of Equestria would want the ability to activate the portal at will.”

“Basically … so that we could visit,” Blake said.

Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna glanced at one another.

“A great honour was done to you, then,” Vice Principal Luna declared.

“We’re very aware,” Blake said.

“Although it begs the question,” Vice Principal Luna went on, “of how you three knew about the portal.”

Rainbow felt her mouth go dry. Just because they knew about the portal didn’t mean that they knew about Sunset, and she wasn’t about to drop Sunset in it by identifying her to people who didn’t know and who might do … she didn’t know what they would do if they found out that Sunset was from Equestria; that was why she didn’t want to say anything.

“Was it Sunset Shimmer who told you?” Principal Celestia asked.

Rainbow let out a gasp.

“No,” Penny said, before hiccupping. She clasped her hands to her mouth.

Principal Celestia chuckled. “We would be very poor guardians indeed if we did not know that someone had come through the portal from Equestria into our world, no?”

“You knew that too?” Rainbow cried. “All this time? All the time she was here?”

“How do you think she was able to attend Combat School?” Principal Celestia asked. “As a visitor from Equestria, she had no papers, no identification, nothing.”

“I…” Rainbow trailed off. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

“We arranged for them,” Principal Celestia said. “Discreetly, of course.”

“You arranged for them,” Vice Principal Luna said. “Don’t share the credit, Celestia … or the blame.”

“'Blame'?” Principal Celestia repeated. “And what blame would that be, sister? From what I understand, Sunset Shimmer has done rather well for herself at Beacon, just as I thought she would.”

“My sister has a soft spot for hopeless cases,” Vice Principal Luna said.

“Sunset’s not so hopeless anymore,” Blake pointed out. “Her team is favourite to win the Vytal Festival.”

“Hang on, hang on; I can’t let that stand,” Rainbow said. “Penny is going to win the Vytal Festival this year.”

Penny shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’ll try my best, but I’m just not on the same level as Pyrrha.”

“Which proves my point,” Vice Principal Luna said. “The possible victory of Sunset Shimmer’s team, much though it may be expected, is due to her teammate, not to her.”

“But even so,” Blake began. Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have money riding on this or something?”

“No, just bragging rights,” Principal Celestia said. “An admission that she’s wrong is harder to pry out of Luna than any amount of lien.”

Vice Principal Luna huffed. “I will admit that I’m wrong when I see some evidence of it,” she said. “But leave that for now; the fact remains that we have always known that Sunset Shimmer came from Equestria originally.”

“And yet you allowed her to attend combat school?” Blake said. “Why?”

“Why not, if she wished to do so?” Principal Celestia replied. “And besides, where better to keep an eye on a stranger from another world than at our school?”

“One thing I don’t understand,” Penny said, “is why the portal is being kept a secret.”

“Many things are kept secret,” Vice Principal Luna said. “For many different reasons.”

“But why this secret?” Penny demanded. “For what reason?”

“Was it for the protection of Equestria?” Blake suggested.

Penny looked at her. “What do you mean, Blake?”

“You saw what it was like, Penny,” Blake said. “You saw how peaceful Equestria was, how peaceful all the ponies living there were. You heard what Twilight said, about peace and tranquillity twenty-two twenty-sixths of the time.”

“Very specific,” Vice Principal Luna murmured.

“I know,” Blake said in reply, before returning her attention to Penny. “The point is that Equestria is a peaceful land, much less prepared for conflict than we are here in Remnant; that was clear enough just from one day spent there. If grimm were to get through the portal, then the bloodshed could be terrible before they were brought down, and while that is unlikely … we are not always a peaceful people. The history of my race and our subjugation proves that, and so does the colonisation of Vacuo. Imagine if the people of the past, less enlightened in their attitudes, less tolerant of difference, had known about Equestria. Is there any doubt they would have invaded for their magic, for their natural resources?”

“You really think so?” Penny asked.

“I don’t see how it can be doubted,” Blake replied, a touch of sadness in her voice.

“But people aren’t like that anymore, are they?” said Penny.

“That’s right,” Rainbow said. “We’ve … evolved since then, but … the thing about secrets, Penny, is that after a certain point, it’s hard to stop keeping them, even if the reason you started keeping the secret doesn’t apply anymore. Not least because, after that certain point, it becomes less about the original secret and more about admitting that you’ve been lying for all this time.”

“And, while Miss Belladonna raises a good point, that is not the only reason for secrecy,” Vice Principal Luna added.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “There’s more?”

“Relations between Remnant and Equestria have never been normalised,” Vice Principal Luna said. “And so, contact between our worlds has consisted of individual travellers — small groups, at best — crossing from one world to the other. It is a sad fact that most of those who have crossed from Equestria to Remnant have been … unsavoury, at best.”

Penny frowned. “You mean like Sunset was when Rainbow Dash knew her?”

“We mean evil, Miss Polendina,” Principal Celestia said.

Penny blinked. “'Evil'? But there is no evil in Equestria!”

“Twenty-two twenty-sixths of the time,” Blake murmured.

“It is hard to piece together, and something that perhaps Miss Shimmer could shed more light on,” Vice Principal Luna said, “but as far as can be determined, it seems that Equestria would send their monsters and their villains here to Remnant, as an alternative to dealing with them themselves.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Penny said. “They didn’t seem like the sort of people who would do things like that.”

“Remember what Princess Celestia said,” Blake reminded her. “The Equestria that we saw was the work of many hooves over many generations; it’s possible that this was the practice of an older, less savoury, less advanced Equestria.”

“It does appear to have tailed off over time,” Principal Celestia said. “Miss Shimmer was the first to come from Equestria in quite some time, and she … look how far she has come.” She smiled. “All of which is a very long way of saying that I hope that we can count on your discretion with regards to the portal and what lies on the other side of it.”

“It’s Sunset’s secret to tell, not ours,” Blake declared. “If she wants to reveal it, she can, but we won’t do so on her behalf.”

“Very good,” Principal Celestia said. “That, I think, is the most that we can ask of you. Are you planning to fly back to Atlas tonight? It’s getting late.”

Rainbow drained the remainder of her mocha. “I’ll be fine, ma’am,” she assured them both. “There’s nothing like a trip to another world to invigorate you and leave you pumped up.”

Principal Celestia laughed. “Be careful then, and fly safely.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rainbow said, as she got to her feet.

“One more question, if I may, ma’am,” Blake said, as she remained seated. “You said that you had been set to guard this portal? Set by whom?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, Miss Belladonna,” Principal Celestia declared. “I’m sorry.”

The staffroom door swung shut as the last of the three young huntresses took their leave.

Celestia and Luna sat quietly, waiting for the three to make their way a little way beyond the door, down the corridor leading to the exit.

“We were fortunate,” Celestia said.

“'Fortunate'?” Luna asked. “The Equestrians can now open the confounded portal whenever they wish, making our task harder, and you call that fortunate?”

“No, I call it fortunate that they opened the portal for Rainbow Dash,” Celestia said. “We can count upon her discretion, and although I don’t know Miss Belladonna or Miss Polendina … I have a good feeling about them both.”

“You are not alone in that,” Luna replied. “Ozpin and James both trust them, so we should be able to trust them also.”

“One of these days, you’ll have to tell me how you know that,” Celestia said, glancing at her younger sister out of the corners of her cerise eyes.

Luna smirked. “The Lady moves in mysterious ways,” she said.

“Speaking of which,” Celestia said, “you didn’t mention—”

“No,” Luna said. “I didn’t.”

“I know you didn’t,” Celestia pointed out. “I was just curious if there was a reason why.”

“It wasn’t relevant,” Luna said. “Was it? And they clearly haven’t been informed of everything by James. If he doesn’t wish them to know about that, then who am I to reveal that information?”

“And yet you gave Rainbow Dash that book,” Celestia murmured.

“'Book'?” Luna asked. “What book is that, sister? I’ve no idea what you are referring to.”

“In Search of the Lady of the North?” Celestia prompted. “I know that it’s missing from our library, and although I don’t have your sources of knowledge, I think that you gave it to Rainbow Dash when she was last here. Although I’m not entirely sure why.”

“I thought she might get something out of it,” Luna said mildly. “And her teammate Miss Soleil certainly would. She, for one, deserves to know, and so does Rainbow Dash.”

“What happened to it not being your place to reveal that information?”

“I have revealed nothing,” Luna declared. “If Rainbow Dash chooses to read a certain book and draw certain conclusions, then what fault is that of mine?”

Celestia shook her head. “You have grown tricky, and a little rebellious.”

“I went to Beacon to become a huntress,” Luna declared. “I wished to become an adventurer, to travel the world protecting the innocent, punishing the guilty, righting wrongs and bringing hope. Instead—”

“You are a guardian,” Celestia said. “You protect the world by protecting your secrets … and your powers.”

“I did not seek to become a guardian,” Luna insisted. “I wish these powers had never come to me, to chain me here and bind me to this place. Quite frankly, Celestia, I feel I am owed a little rebellion from time to time.”

The city of Atlas rose high above the earth, and Atlas Academy rose high above the rest of Atlas. Higher than the houses of the great, higher than Schnee Manor, higher than any other building in the whole of Remnant rose the great tower of glass and steel. Atop it, out on the roof, one could see the whole of Atlas spread out beneath you — at least Blake assumed that you could in the daytime, when the sun would illuminate everything it touched. Now, at night, she could only see the lights down below, and they seemed dim and distant and illuminated very little; it was as if she was looking out not at a city but at a field of stars in the darkness, or perhaps a mirror to the night sky above them.

Here on the roof, it was cold; the warmth of the heating grid struggled to reach so high up, and so, Blake shivered a little.

It was enough to make her wonder what Rainbow Dash was doing up here.

Yet, here she stood, standing on the very edge of the roof, with only a shining metal rail and a thin sheet of plexiglass between her and a very long drop, standing with her arms folded, looking out across the city at night.

“You look as if you’re posing for a photoshoot,” Blake observed as she shut the door leading inside — the door she’d just come out of — behind her.

Rainbow glanced over her shoulder at Blake, her face looking almost as if it might crack up for a moment, but it did not. “I’m just … thinking,” she said.

“What about?” Blake asked.

Rainbow didn’t answer, but said, “What are you doing up here?”

“Looking for you,” Blake replied. “I’m surprised you’re not trying to get at least a little sleep.”

“I’m still a little wired,” Rainbow said. “Either it’s what happened today or the caffeine or both. I don’t think I can sleep just yet.”

“You could go down to your room and hang out with Penny,” Blake suggested. “Since she doesn’t sleep either.”

“If you think that I should go to bed, why haven’t you headed back to Fluttershy’s place and gone to bed yourself?” Rainbow asked.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Blake said, walking lightly across the rooftop to where Rainbow stood. She did not join her at the very edge, but rather, stayed a few steps behind, her view obscured but her risk of falling along with it. She half turned away from Rainbow, presenting her side to Rainbow’s back. “I … I wanted to talk about today.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “It was quite a place, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Blake agreed. “I’m … pretty jealous.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow repeated. “Me too.”

Blake looked at her. “Really?”

Again, Rainbow looked back at Blake. “Yeah!” she declared, as though it should have been obvious that she would feel that way. “A world with no grimm, no Salem, no ever-present threat to guard against; who wouldn’t want that? If I…” She trailed off as she looked away from Blake, turning her gaze once more outwards across the illuminated darkness.

“If I had one wish,” she said, “if the skies opened and the voice of that God of Light Professor Ozpin talked about came down and said ‘you can have one wish, any wish you like,’ then I’d wish for a world where Scootaloo and Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle and kids like them could just be kids, you know? Where Scootaloo wouldn’t need a scooter that turns into a gun, or Apple Bloom wouldn’t have to worry if her sister isn’t going to come home one day, where nobody would have to be scared of the grimm. Where people can just live. A world like they have.”

“Is that why you were acting weird today?”

Rainbow turned around. “You thought I was acting weird?”

“A little bit,” Blake said. “Sometimes.”

Rainbow snorted. “I was … I was prepared for Sunset to have exaggerated,” she said. “But when we got into that throne room, and we saw — you saw — those stained glass windows of Princess Twilight, I thought ‘here we go, this place is no different from us after all.’ And then … when Princess Twilight explained it, when she talked about that night on the hillside watching the shooting stars.” Rainbow glanced away. “She’s right, you know. That stuff … it means more than all the rest of it.”

“I’m sure it does,” Blake murmured. “I mean, by the time I graduate, what am I more likely to remember, some grade I got, some mission I went on … or sharing a meal in the Team Sapphire dorm room?”

“Exactly,” Rainbow said, and for a moment a smile illuminated her face. “And we’ll make plenty more memories just like that up here in Atlas next year, better ones!”

Blake smiled. “Sure we will.”

Rainbow nodded, but the smile faded from her face. She blinked, and Blake almost thought that there were tears gathering in her eyes. “I … I’m eighteen years old,” Rainbow said. “And I’ve already buried one … one comrade, and I’ve seen another lose his leg. This life … I really, really envy them that they don’t have to go through that.”

Blake glanced down at the blue tiles of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Maybe you could have asked about them.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have asked Princess Twilight; maybe she could have found out about the other them, the other versions of your friends.”

Rainbow shook her head. “I’m glad that finding out about the other you, and the other Adam, brought you some … I’m glad that it made you happy,” she said. “But I … I can’t think what good it would do me. He’s still dead, the one I knew, and it wouldn’t make me feel any better to know that in some other world, there’s another version of him that’s doing good, living his best life. It would just make me feel … I wish we could have what they have.” She paused for a moment. “There is one question I regret not asking.”

Blake took a step closer to her. “What’s that?”

“If they know of any way to kill an immortal,” Rainbow said softly. “I mean, they have people there who can’t die — Princess Celestia is one of them, apparently — so maybe they know of something that can be done, some weapon or magic that Sunset could—”

“I think if there were such a thing, then Sunset would know it, and if she didn’t know it but thought that her teacher might, then she would ask them,” Blake pointed out.

Rainbow scowled. “You’re probably right.”

“So why didn’t you ask, if you wanted to?”

“I didn’t want to bring down the mood,” Rainbow replied. “It didn’t seem … in that world that was so peaceful, it didn’t seem right to talk about death. It would have felt wrong, disrespectful.”

“I understand what you mean,” Blake murmured. “It wouldn’t have felt right, to have brought talk of war to Equestria. It would have felt like bringing war itself.” She walked to the rails and rested her arms upon them. “Although,” she went on, “while I understand your point, I’d settle for having their racial harmony.”

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, a nice and easy goal for you.”

Blake chuckled. “Many hooves and many years, but it got done.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “It got done. And who knows, maybe there is a way? Maybe we don’t have to kill Salem; maybe we can lock her in an inescapable cage or … I don’t know, something. Or maybe the sky will open, and the God of Light will come down to give you that one wish.”

Rainbow grinned. “Many years,” she murmured. “And many hooves.”

“But worth it,” Blake said, holding out one balled up fist.

Rainbow bumped it with her knuckles. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Totally worth it.”

Visitors Past and Present (New)

Visitors Past and Present

The house of Chiron was not much to look at from without, although that would not have prevented some from calling it idyllic. The aged warrior had made his home upon the slopes of Mount Pelion, one of the mountains that lay around Mistral, across the valley from the great city itself. His dwelling was made of wood, stout logs piled on top of one another to form a cabin, if the word did not conjure up something too small compared to the reality, which was of a perfectly reasonably-sized house that just happened to be made of wood and on its own halfway up an otherwise scantly-occupied mountain. A goat was tethered up outside the front door, aimlessly chewing on the grass as Terri-Belle approached down the dirt track, and to her left, she could see the waters glistening as a stream ran down the mountainside nearby. Behind the house, tall trees grew, green and twisted of limb in the Mistralian fashion, their leaves turning golden at the edges as autumn drew near.

It was, as Terri-Belle had thought, idyllic, or at least it was someone’s conception of idyllic.

This was in my prayers, a measure of land not so large, and, near the garden, a spring of pure water, and above this, a little patch of woods. The gods have given me more and better.

Well, if the rustic idyll was what Chiron wanted, then who were gods or men to stand in his way?

And yet, Terri-Belle had come, not to stand in his way precisely, but to drag him away from it to an uncertain end.

A dog barked from inside the house as Terri-Belle approached the front door; she was ahorse, mounted upon Oakheart, and his hooves pounded a little upon the dirt track. She reined him in a few paces before the door and dismounted, tethering her horse to the post that Chiron had conveniently placed there for visitors. Terri-Belle rested her spear lightly upon her shoulder as she walked the rest of the short distance.

The door, like the rest of the wooden house, was unpainted, although there was a fancy door knocker shaped like a horse’s head nailed to it. Terri-Belle seized hold of the handle in one hand and knocked robustly, making a thumping noise that seemed to echo all around.

The barking of the dog — dogs now; it had been joined by another — grew louder from within the house.

“Quiet! Quiet, both of you!” squawked a woman’s voice from inside. “Quiet, or there’ll be no dinner tonight!”

The dogs began to quiet down. There was a moment’s pause before the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman, as tall as Terri-Belle herself, with auburn hair turning to grey in places, dressed in a gown of light rose with a belt of golden leaves clasped about her waist.

Her name was Chariclo, and she glared at Terri-Belle with her hazel eyes. “What do you want?” she demanded.

Terri-Belle drew in a breath. “It’s good to see you again too, ma’am,” she said.

“It is not good for me to see you,” Chariclo declared. “I can guess why you are here. The answer is no.”

Terri-Belle rested the butt of Thunderbolt upon the ground. “Isn’t that Chiron’s decision to make?”

“Don’t talk to me like this does not concern me, my lady,” Chariclo snapped. “I am his wife; this is as much my decision as it is—”

“Chariclo,” Chiron’s voice, rich and deep, echoed out from somewhere inside the house. “Who is it, dear heart?”

Terri-Belle forestalled any answer that Chariclo might have given by calling out, “It’s Terri-Belle, Master.”

“Terri-Belle?” Chiron repeated, and Terri-Belle heard the sounds of hooves upon the wooden floorboards before the man himself emerged into view at the far end of the hallway. “Terri-Belle!” he cried, advancing towards her. “My dear girl! What a pleasant surprise.”

Chiron was a man older than his appearance, although Terri-Belle wasn’t sure exactly how much older he was because she wasn’t certain how old he was. He was someone who appeared to have been around forever, a huntsmen and a trainer of huntsmen — a trainer of heroes. He had never taught at Haven, but all the best warriors had been instructed by him, if only for a little while. The great houses competed fiercely to have their scions accepted into his tutelage, but — as his modest dwelling might attest — he did not charge exorbitant fees for the privilege, but rather, chose his charges very carefully, selecting only those who interested him, those in whom he saw potential.

It had not made him rich, but it had given those trained by him a certain imprimatur of status. To have been taught by Chiron was to have been marked out as something special by one who was said to know quality when he saw it.

Conversely, to have him refuse you was … difficult. When he had declined to train Swift Foot, preferring to retire instead, Father had been very disappointed in her. Although not as disappointed as Swift Foot had been in herself.

The man himself was a faunus, a horse faunus with brown equine legs and equine hooves which thumped upon his floor, and the legs were barely hidden by the shorts he was wearing; his top was a little better covered up in a light brown tunic and a cloak of green across his back clasped with a pair of golden leaves. His hair was long and dark, turning to grey in places, as was the wild dark beard that erupted from his face. A crown of laurel leaves — real laurel leaves, and fresh too, by the look of them — adorned his brow.

Terri-Belle bowed her head. “Master,” she murmured.

“'Master,'” Chiron repeated. “How long has it been since I taught you, that you call me ‘Master’?”

“Too long,” Terri-Belle murmured.

She missed those days. She missed the simplicity of them. The innocence of youth, before someone was killing all of her huntsmen.

“Times change,” Chiron said, not unsympathetically. “Might as well try to stop the changing of the seasons. But it is good to see you again, my lady.”

“Please, no,” Terri-Belle said, holding up one hand. “I may not be your student anymore, but you don’t have to bow and scrape to me. It would feel too bizarre to contemplate. May I come inside?”

“Of course,” Chiron said, gesturing for her to come inside. Chariclo sniffed, but made way for Terri-Belle to step in through the door and rest her spear against the wall.

“Come into the kitchen,” Chiron went on, turning his back on her and leading the way, leaving Terri-Belle and Chariclo to follow. “Would you like some wine? Something to eat, perhaps? We have bread baked in our own ovens, cheese from our own goat—”

“Does the wine come from your own grapes?” Terri-Belle asked.

“Only if you want to be poisoned,” Chariclo muttered.

Chiron chuckled. “Sadly, I haven’t quite gotten the hang of winemaking just yet, so it will be from Markos’ vineyard.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “If you wish to partake, that is?”

“I will not decline, either food or wine,” Terri-Belle replied.

“Excellent!” Chiron proclaimed. “Excellent!”

He led them into the kitchen, where a pair of ageing hounds were lying in front of the burning fire, heads pressed against the floor. Their names where Aello and Agre, and they had belonged to Actaeon, an old pupil of Chiron’s from before Terri-Belle’s time, and when he had been killed — Chiron had never talked about what had killed him, if he even knew — then Chiron had taken in his hounds. Aello got up from the floor and wandered over to her, tongue hanging out, panting slightly.

Terri-Belle knelt to give him a scratch behind the ears, smiling slightly as she did so. She envied him, that he could be pleased so easily, that a little thing like being scratched behind the ears could make him forget his troubles; if, indeed, he had any troubles to forget.

The kitchen was rustic, but spacious, with joints of meat hanging above the fireplace and strings of garlic hanging from the walls. Chiron sat down at a plain wooden table and gestured for Terri-Belle to take the other.

Terri-Belle too sat down. Chariclo filled a wooden bowl with rich, dark red wine and set it down upon the table with a little too much force.

She did not sit down with them, but lurked in the corner of the kitchen, listening to their conversation without being part of it.

Terri-Belle found herself trying to ignore the woman’s presence. “How is retirement treating you?” she asked. “Is the life of a farmer everything that you thought it would be.”

Chiron chuckled. “I’m no farmer,” he said. “Chariclo does most of the work, I must admit, although, I … I—”

“Gets underfoot,” Chariclo said.

“I dabble, here and there,” Chiron said. “Mostly, retirement has given me a chance to indulge my hobbies: astrology, botany—”

“I remember when you taught me the lore of the herbs of healing,” Terri-Belle said. “It hardly sounds like a hobby to me.”

Chiron shrugged. “Now, I can look beyond healing herbs. I can potter about, growing whatever plants I see fit, and there is no one to tell me that I should have found something better to do.”

“And that’s why you retired?” Terri-Belle asked. “To grow plants and watch the stars?”

“There’s nothing wrong with plants or stars,” Chiron informed her. “How much do you remember of the herb lore I taught you?”

“Not as much as I should,” Terri-Belle admitted.

“You never know when you’ll be in a pinch, far from conventional modern medicine,” Chiron reproached her. “But a plant that has no practical value may still be beautiful, and a star even more so. Sometimes, when the nights are dark and the moon is new, I look up with my telescope and see all the constellations spread out so brightly above me. I could spend hours mapping them, charting their movements from night, just looking at them. Looking at them and wondering if there is anything finer in life than this?” He paused for a moment. “But the truth is, I retired because, having trained my greatest pupil, there didn’t seem to be much point in going on. Pyrrha … seemed as good a line to draw under my career as any.”

“He never taught anyone so good as her before,” Chariclo pronounced, with what seemed to Terri-Belle to be just a little too much relish in her voice as she looked pointedly at Terri-Belle — Terri-Belle would, and had, admit that it was true, but there was no need to rub it in like that. “He would never teach anyone so good after. Why not retire then? Why not finish on a high?”

“Chariclo … may mean some offence,” Chiron added diplomatically. “But I mean none when I say … having trained the evening star, what else was left for me to do?”

Terri-Belle did not reply for a moment. Rather, she picked up the bowl of wine and raised it to her lips, tipping it upwards so that the rich red wine flowed out of the bowl and into her mouth. It was tart but fruity, with a slight nutty quality to it. She set down the bowl and picked up a napkin to dab gently at her lips. The napkin came away stained red, like a bloody bandage.

She set the reminder of recent events down on the table before she said, “Is that why you wouldn’t train my sister?”

Chiron sighed. “I meant no disrespect.”

“You refused my father; how was he to take it except as disrespect?”

“Your father made a request of me,” Chiron replied. “I, with all courtesy, declined his request. If he was offended by that, it was not my doing or my intention.”

Terri-Belle’s brow furrowed. She said, half-fearing to know the answer, “Was it simply the fact that you wished to retire, or would you have changed your mind if Swift Foot had shown greater promise?”

Chiron looked her in the eye, without flinching. “Swift Foot is as good as Jason or Meleager when they came to me,” he said. “She could be as skilled as you one day, if she is well taught.”

“'Well taught,'” Terri-Belle repeated. “But not by you.”

“No,” Chiron agreed. “Not by me.”

Now it was his turn to reach for the bowl of wine, picking it up and drinking out of the other side of the bowl to Terri-Belle.

“Do you keep in touch with any of your students?” Terri-Belle asked. Chiron had not kept in touch with her, but she was a little curious — she was now, at least; it might not have occurred to her to ask if it were not for Chariclo’s blatant favouritism — to know if that reflected on her in any way.

“No,” Chiron informed her. “No, not anymore.”

“‘Anymore’?” Terri-Belle said. “You used to?”

“Yes,” Chiron murmured. “I used to.”

Terri-Belle blinked. “When did you stop? Why?”

“Why do you think?” Chariclo asked, although she had her back to them now, cutting up bread on one of the kitchen surfaces. With her knife, she gestured briefly at the dogs that sat by the fire.

Terri-Belle glanced at the hounds, sitting contentedly, the firelight dancing upon their fur. Agre looked up at her, as if he could sense that he was being regarded, and let out a little high-pitched whine before laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

“Actaeon,” she whispered.

Chiron nodded. “Actaeon,” he repeated. “He and I remained in touch. He visited me often, sharing stories of his exploits, judging my later pupils. He would always deny that they could ever be as skilled as he was, as swift, as cunning.” He smiled, if only for a moment. “And then he died, and his hounds found their way to me.”

He glanced at Aello and Agre where they lay. “I took them in, of course. What else could I do, but … I realised that if I had treated them all the way that I treated Actaeon, then … ten thousand fates of death surround us, as the poets say; I didn’t want my home to become a mausoleum full of relics of old students passed on. I didn’t want to be reminded of them, left to ponder the question that always haunted me with Actaeon: could I have taught him better?”

“You wonder that?” Terri-Belle asked. “Truly?”

“Should I not?” Chiron replied. “My pupils die.”

“Ten thousand fates of death surround us, as you say, which no man may escape or avoid,” Terri-Belle responded. “And while they live, before inevitable destiny claims them, those taught by you win glory unsurpassed. You are the trainer of heroes; you cannot say that it brings you no honour, nor pride.”

“I didn’t say that,” Chiron corrected her. “I don’t keep in touch with them, but I follow their achievements. I read about them. I read when you were named Captain of the Imperial Guard and Warden of the White Tower. I read of Pyrrha’s battles against the White Fang, and this grimm attack more recently — what in the name of all the gods has been going on in Vale?”

Terri-Belle shrugged. “You had better ask the Valish; all I can say is that they have been incompetent … but that their incompetence has allowed Pyrrha to win great glory, and it has given us a wakeup call I fear we sorely needed.”

“And how is the mood,” asked Chariclo, “regarding Pyrrha’s glory?”

Terri-Belle twisted in her seat a little to look at her. “The whole city celebrates her achievement.”

Chariclo snorted as she set down a basket of bread, cut roughly into triangular wedges, down upon the table. “You don’t believe that,” she said. “I certainly don’t.”

Terri-Belle sighed. “Perhaps there are some who are jealous of her accomplishment—”

“'Perhaps'?” Chariclo repeated incredulously. “When Pyrrha was training with Chiron, I once caught Jason and Meleager plotting to put something in her food to make her sick, to punish her for showing them up. There will always be those who envy greatness.”

“You’re right,” Terri-Belle admitted. “But few would be so gauche as to admit it publicly.”

“Chariclo was Pyrrha’s nurse,” Chiron informed her. “She keeps a far closer eye on her life than I do.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” demanded Chariclo. “Her mother was too weak to take care of her. I went to the house, and I saw her for the first time, and I thought ‘this cannot be the mother of a newborn babe! Surely, she must be her grandmother!’ But no, she was Pyrrha’s mother, though she looked so old that I could hardly believe it. Hippolyta told me she would never bear another child, and I could believe that, for the gods had taken all her strength and put it into this squalling girl. So I fed her, and I washed her, and I wiped her bottom; I am entitled to know what happens to her afterwards.”

“You know that she’s dating some Valish boy,” Terri-Belle said.

Chariclo sniffed. “I know. I have seen his picture. He has vacant eyes and a foolish smile. He does not deserve her.”

“We men never do, dear heart,” Chiron declared. “We never deserve the women who find it in themselves to bear our follies and our foibles.”

“That is true,” Chariclo agreed. “That is very true.” She paused for a moment, before she said, “She must love him very much.”

“So sure?” asked Terri-Belle.

“Why else would she put herself through so much fuss and bother, over a nobody?” Chariclo demanded. “He has no family, he has no money, and all the news, they call it an absolute disgrace, a shame on Mistral, an insult. Why endure it, if not for love?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Chiron agreed. “And good for her. Humans are not meant to live alone, but in union with one another. And marriage was the best thing I ever did, far moreso than training Pyrrha Nikos.”

“And don’t you forget it,” said Chariclo. She started to cut up some cheese. “I hope he treats her right. Boys can be very cruel.”

Terri-Belle winced. “How is Hippe?”

“Well enough,” Chiron said. “Her boy will be old enough to start combat school soon.”

“Following in the family footsteps?” Terri-Belle asked. “Speaking of which, Carystus is well.”

“For now,” Chariclo muttered.

Terri-Belle looked down into the bowl of wine. “For now,” she conceded. “The world has grown more dangerous.”

“When has the world not been dangerous?” Chiron asked, with a glance down at Aello and Agre.

“It feels as though it has gotten worse,” Terri-Belle said. “And not only in Vale.”

“Which is why you are here,” Chiron said.

“Yes,” Terri-Belle answered. “That is why I am here.” She drank a little more wine and dabbed once more at her mouth with the cloth. “I want you to take up arms again.”

“No!” Chariclo cried. “No, you are retired! You have done your part, run your race!”

“Dearest—” Chiron began.

“Don’t ‘dearest’ me; this is my house, and I will not have this talk.”

“This is Chiron’s decision to make, don’t you think?” Terri-Belle asked.

“I am his wife!” Chariclo declared. “If he dies, dragged out to battle, old as he is—”

“I’m not so old!”

“Then I will be the one to mourn for him, to weep for him, to embrace our children while they weep, to live without him in a cold bed and an empty house, is that not enough to make it my decision? You took my son away—”

“Carystus chose to be a huntsman and to join the guard—”

“And what a comfort that will be to me if he should perish, to know that he chose to go this death,” Chariclo spat. “Maybe if you had a spouse or children of your own, you would understand.”

“Well, I do not,” Terri-Belle said sharply, rising to her feet. “But I have three sisters; two of them serve alongside me, one starts her training in earnest next year. Do you think it would not grieve me if they perished in the field? Do you think that I would not rather venture forth myself upon the hazards of battle that they may stay safe within the walls of Mistral, busying themselves with paperwork and administration? Do you think that I would not risk myself ten times before I risked them — or your son, or any of my guards for that matter? Do not think that I am so cold as the armour that I wear. Not for a moment.”

She closed her eyes and turned away from Chariclo, presenting her shoulder to the older woman. “But I am also the Warden of the White Tower, not only a sister but a commander also, and I must have regard for Mistral’s need, and Mistral’s need is great. Mistral’s need is for every sword and spear and gun that can be mustered. And that is why I come to you, Chiron. I need retired huntsmen and huntresses to come in from the cold, at least for a little while, to make up our numbers. And you … your name carries great weight; if you come out of retirement, then others will follow. Do you have any contacts from your own generation, anyone you could persuade to take up arms again?”

“Some, perhaps,” Chiron admitted. “Theseus and Pirithouos would be up for it, I’m sure. Last time I spoke to them, they were both bored stiff. Maybe others, although I can’t guarantee they all have their own teeth. As for myself … are things so bad that you need the help of old hasbeens like us?”

“I doubt you will be a hasbeen even once they have laid you on your pyre,” Terri-Belle said. “But yes, things are bad.”

“These disappearances I’ve heard of?”

“Of course you’ve heard of that,” Terri-Belle muttered. “Not disappearances anymore. Someone … someone has been hunting down huntsmen.”

“And you want Chiron to put himself in harm’s way?” Chariclo said.

“I have taken steps to ensure that no one else will fall victim to this assassin,” Terri-Belle declared. “I have taken the complete administration of all huntsman missions into my own hands so that no one can pass information as to where huntsman will be at any given time. Secrecy has, and will continue, to keep our huntsmen safe.”

“Will it give you time to do anything but paperwork?” asked Chiron.

“It does when I leave some of it to fester for a little while, as I am doing now,” Terri-Belle said. “I believe that I have staunched the bleeding, but our losses have been significant. We are looking to build other forms of defence for Mistral, but it is slow going; poor fellows flock to the colours of Polemarch Yeoh’s new army every day, but it will take time to make them soldiers; we are buying androids from the SDC, and as a result, guild representatives beat a path to the Council chamber complaining that we are undermining the Guildhall by dealing with them.”

“Are you going to pay such objections any mind?” asked Chiron.

“No,” Terri-Belle said. “But even then … robots are not huntsmen.”

“I am barely a huntsman,” Chiron said. “I’m just an old trainer.”

“An old trainer who knows every trick you ever taught to every huntsman or huntress who ever came to you for instruction,” Terri-Belle replied. “Please. I would not ask if our need, Mistral’s need, were not great.” She looked at Chariclo. “Despite what you may think, I have no desire to disrupt your retirement. But I need swords, and more than that, I need men to wield them. I have gone to the Railwaymen to ask them to release their contracted huntsmen; I’d go to the White Fang and offer them an amnesty if I thought the people would stand for it — which they will not, especially after what happened in Vale. I need men. I need good men. And you are one of the best men I know.”

She smiled. “You retired because you would never train anyone as good as Pyrrha Nikos. I understand that; I accept it. She is unique, and you only have to watch her to know it. But I’m not asking you to train any new pupil, I’m not asking you to pass on your knowledge, all I am asking is that in Mistral’s hour of need you emerge from this cosy home you’ve made for yourselves and come to the aid of your kingdom. Is that not a fine epilogue for your life’s story?”

“Only if he comes back to the home at the end of it,” Chariclo muttered.

“He will,” Terri-Belle said.

“You cannot be certain.”

“No,” Terri-Belle conceded. “I cannot. But I will do my damnedest to make sure it does. As I would for any other man in my service.”

“In your service?” Chiron said. “I really will have to call you ‘my lady,’ won’t I?”

Terri-Belle looked at him. “In public, certainly. If you agree.”

“How can I not?” Chiron replied. “How can I not answer Mistral when she calls?”

“Easily,” Chariclo insisted.

“Perhaps,” Chiron murmured. “But I will not. I have spent my life training eager boys and girls, preparing them to become heroes. How can I sit at home now, when I am called upon to live the values I have passed on to others? How could I face Actaeon if I did that? I will call around, see how many other old fossils I can find willing to join me in one last war.”

“Thank you,” Terri-Belle said, a great feeling of relief flooding through her. “Thank you, Master. I will not forget this.”

“Neither will I,” Chariclo muttered darkly.

“Juturna,” Turnus said as he strode in, “we need to talk.”

Juturna didn’t look up from her scroll, her fingers tracing over the screen as she placed buildings on the map and set them to work. “Can it wait for a little bit? I’ve just spent five hundred lien on premium items for this game, and I’m going to lose all of them if the enemy overrun my base.”

“‘Five hundred lien’?” Camilla said, in a voice that sounded as though she was about to choke.

“Oh, hey,” Juturna said, glancing up to see that Camilla was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, just behind Turnus. “It’s not that much money, really.”

“It is a great deal of money really,” Camilla murmured. “To some people, at least.”

“And that’s why I win, because I’ve got access to big bro’s credit card,” Juturna declared gleefully.

“Put the scroll down, Juturna,” Turnus said.

“I told you, I just need—”

“Now!” Turnus snapped.

Since Dad died, Juturna could count the number of times that Turnus had raised his voice at her on the fingers of one hand. She looked away from her game, concentration torn from the barbarians who were currently breaking down her outer walls with the help of a dragon. Her hands still held the scroll, but they lowered until the device was resting upon her crossed legs, while she, sitting upon her bed, looked sideways at Turnus and Camilla.

Turnus had come inside the room, standing with his hands by his sides, curled into fists. He was wearing a suit — the trousers and jacket both had a tiger stripe pattern of orange and black — with a white shirt and no tie. Camilla stood behind him, still in the doorway, half in the room and half outside it, her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing a red dress that matched her eyes, with a high neckline wrapped around her throat.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“You’re not in any trouble,” Camilla assured her.

Juturna turned herself sideways on her bed, crumpling the light pink duvet cover beneath her as she moved to face the two of them. Frilly throw pillows in pink and red and white covered one side of the bed, resting against the wall, while a stuffed bear in a bow tie lay with his head upon the pillow.

“Then why does it feel like I’m in trouble?” Juturna asked.

Turnus walked further into the bedroom. Camilla followed, her tail barely raised up off the floor as she closed the door behind her.

The walls of Juturna’s bedroom were painted in royal blue, livened up with some posters of her favourite singers stuck on the walls: Weiss Schnee, Sapphire Shores, Coloratura. A katana that she had brought in an online sale because she thought it looked really cool but which she had never actually used also hung on the wall, at the back of the room behind the dressing table. It was Mom’s old dressing table, and Mom’s jewellery box with all of her necklaces and tiaras and her engagement ring sat there, mostly unused since Juturna didn’t really wear them that often; in fact, she’d pretty much only worn anything from out of Mom’s box once, and that was to borrow a tiara for her sixteenth birthday party. Her own jewellery box was smaller and had things like her studded leather bracelets and her array of black chokers. A vanity mirror sat on top of the dressing table, and a little cushioned stool sat in front of it. An acoustic guitar which she could totally play sat propped up against the wall. A bedside table sat, well, beside the bed, with a lamp and a charger for her scroll and a picture of the three of them, taken during the celebrations at the end of the last Mistral Tournament; Turnus and Camilla were all dressed up, standing side by side, lit up by the lanterns that stretched across the market stalls; Juturna was photobombing them, her face taking up half the frame, her tongue out and her expression wild.

There was also a soft chair, for reading or sitting, even though Juturna often preferred to sit on the bed for those things. Nevertheless, the chair gave Turnus a place to sit as he pulled it closer to Juturna’s bed before he sat down.

Camilla crossed the room silently and sat down on the bed next to Juturna.

Juturna snapped her scroll shut, resigning herself to taking a bath on all her premium consumables. Oh, well, it was Turnus’ money in the end.

“Seriously,” she said, looking from Camilla to Turnus, “what’s going on?”

Even seated, Camilla was still taller than her and able to look down upon Juturna whether she meant to or not. “Opis had a word with me,” she said softly. “About the visitor you had while we were away.”

“The— oh, you mean Doctor Watts?” Juturna asked.

“Exactly,” Turnus said. “You didn’t mention him. Camilla had to hear it from Opis.”

Juturna shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. He came in, we talked for a little bit, and then he left again. I didn’t think you’d want to know.”

“It’s what you talked about that I would have liked to have known,” Turnus said.

“How much did Opis tell you?” Juturna asked quietly.

“As little as she could get away with, I think,” Camilla murmured. “At times, she became quite embarrassed.”

Juturna winced. “Yeah, that … I did say sorry at the time. I think. Or maybe I just said I was going to stop doing it. Should I apologise?”

“That’s not important right now,” Turnus said.

Camilla reached out and took one of Juturna’s hands in her own. “Opis told me that … that you spoke of your mother.”

Juturna looked away, unable to meet either of their gazes. “I … yeah, I guess I mentioned it.”

“That wasn’t the only thing you mentioned, was it?” Turnus asked.

“No,” Juturna muttered. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Juturna,” Turnus said. “I … what possessed you? A stranger turns up at the door, and you tell him … about our mother, about us? About … about rulership?”

Juturna glanced up at him. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?” she asked. “You want to rule?”

Turnus did not reply. Silence hung in the bedroom, unbroken by any noise at all. The three sat there, in silence, Turnus and Juturna looking at one another, Camilla sitting to the side.

“That isn’t the point,” Camilla murmured. “The point is—”

“Yes,” Turnus said, and the word fell heavily from his lips. “Yes, I do wish it.”

Camilla did not try to speak again. Juturna did not reply. She felt as if her brother was not yet done, she felt that there was more to come, there had to be.

Turnus folded his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows upon the arms of Juturna’s chair. “There is no call we do not answer; there is no faith that we betray,” he murmured. “Do you know who said that?”

“No,” Juturna replied.

“You should do; this is our family history,” Turnus reproached her. “It was our great-great-grandfather, Lord Leto, who said that, when the Emperor commanded him to pacify eastern Sanus for Mistral. He was the governor there when the Great War began.”

“And in that war, he lost his life,” Camilla said.

“So did his son, our great-grandfather, almost,” Turnus said. “Our house was nearly destroyed, brought low by the Valish, by the barbarians, and by treachery. And then, after that, Father…” He got to his feet. “Our house has never gained anything from serving Mistral.”

“But to rule it,” Juturna said softly.

“It will never happen,” Turnus declared, turning away from her. “It cannot be done; it would … I could never … and yet, if wishing made it so…” He paused for a moment. “Our house is as noble as the House of Thrax, as long in line of ancestors, as notable for our deeds in war — moreso, even. And this kingdom…”

“What would you do with the throne, if you possessed it?” Camilla asked quietly.

Turnus was silent for a moment. “This kingdom must be reorganised,” he said, “upon Atlesian lines. They understand efficiency in the north kingdom, they understand strength, they understand how to make themselves powerful. We are held back by too much deference to tradition and too much power given to vested interests. We must … a part of me thinks that the guilds and the ancient companies must be shattered to free the market of their influence, but — as much as we must free the market so that it may prosper as it does in Atlas — the Guildhall has long served a traditional role in keeping the commercial classes happy, and it would be foolish to jeopardise that. Still, they must be reformed, they cannot be allowed to gatekeep the market any longer; we cannot sacrifice prosperity for stability anymore, we can no longer afford it. We need to grow the economy to fund the defences that Mistral needs: an army larger than that of Atlas, and a great fleet too, to patrol our territories and systematically hunt down the bandits that infest these lands. I would encourage the great houses to raise their own forces, their own companies, their own armies, as they did in ancient times, and to put those sworn swords to use not only for their own glory but also for the good of Mistral, earning renown through good service to the kingdom. The time was when our nobility habitually sought to do such, but this modern world leaves no scope for such things, and so we are reduced to the pursuit of money or else to aggrandising ourselves even at the expense of the rest of Mistral. With all this strength at my command, I would spread the blessings of peace throughout Mistral and hunt down all malcontents. And then…”

“And then?” Juturna asked.

“And then I would cross the straits in arms and take back what should always have been ours,” Turnus said. “Eastern Sanus, that was stolen from us after the Great War. The land our ancestor died for.” He paused for a moment. “But these are dreams. Just dreams, nothing more. They have no substance; I cannot make them real. I do not dare to try and make them real. Dreams … and yet dangerous, all the same. I talk to you about it, here, to the two of you, in private, but I wouldn’t speak of them in front of all my men.”

“Seriously?” Juturna asked. “You don’t trust them?”

“I trust them with my life,” Turnus said. “But this … and you just spilled it out of your mouth to a stranger you had never met before; what were you thinking?”

“He was an Atlesian; what does it matter?”

“He said he was an Atlesian,” Camilla pointed out. “He gave no proof of that.”

Juturna blinked. “What are you thinking?”

“He could have been a spy,” Camilla suggested. “From one of the rival families, maybe even from the Steward himself.”

“To do what?” Juturna asked. “To see if you want to rule Mistral; why would he even think that?”

“Why would an Atlesian doctor turn up at the door, speak to you of such things, and then leave without a word?” Camilla asked.

Juturna hesitated. “I … I don’t know. Maybe … I don’t know. But if someone was out to get you. don’t you think that they would have, you know, come and got you by now?”

“Perhaps,” Turnus admitted. “Or perhaps now that their suspicions have been confirmed … who can say?”

“I didn’t mean…” Juturna began. “I just wanted … I just want you to be happy.” She reached out, and took Camilla’s hand. “Both of you.”

Camilla squeezed the hand that Juturna held. “What makes you think that we are not content?”

Juturna snorted. “Come on. I know you better than that.”

“And what I want,” Turnus said, as he came to sit down on the bed beside her, on the other side of Camilla, “is for you to be a little more careful and not talk so blithely to strangers. Perhaps he was exactly who he said he was and has now wandered off, never to be heard from again … but he could have aimed to use your words against you, and that…” He trailed off, and instead of speaking, he put his arms around her, one arm around her shoulders, cupping her cheek with his other hand as he pulled her inwards until she was leaning on him. “Dearer to me than all the wealth and honour of our house are you. Do not forget that.”

Juturna smiled. “I love you too,” she murmured.

And because she loved him, because she loved them both, she yearned to see them happy and all their dreams fulfilled.

If only there was a way.

If only she could see a way in which it might be done.

Author's Note

No new chapter on Wednesday this week, the next chapter will be on Friday

Butterflies (New)

Butterflies

Jaune ran.

He was not running particularly fast, moving at a kind of brisk jog, but then he didn't have any occasion to run away from anything either. He was just taking a run around the Beacon campus to…

Well, maybe he couldn't quite have said what he was doing, beyond killing time while Pyrrha got ready. He'd hoped that going for a run would settle his nerves, but he couldn't really say that it had.

At some point, he would have to go back to the dorm room. Pyrrha would be there, looking as gorgeous as ever — more, maybe; her exact words had been 'I need to make an especial effort, after all' — and then they would gather their bags and head down to the train station, and then they would get a train, obviously.

A train to Alba Longa.

A train to his home.

He was going to be bringing Pyrrha to his home.

And today, he wasn't sure if there was anything he wanted less.

It had seemed so easy at the time, such a simple decision to make. Pyrrha wanted to come with him to his home, she wanted to meet his family, and if he was being honest, he wanted the moral support. It had seemed easy, then, to consent to her coming, but now, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to come.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go himself.

And yet, he couldn't tell her why he didn't want her with him. She was excited for this, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

He didn't want to go alone either.

And so, he jogged around the campus, unsure of what to say or what to do, kind of wishing he'd never called his mom or…

Well, no, that wasn't quite true; he was glad that he … it had been the right thing to do, to call her before they set off for Mountain Glenn; agreeing to come home for his Dad's birthday … that had probably been the right thing, too.

Even if it didn't feel like it right now.

And so, Jaune ran, while thoughts whirled faster than his feet around his head and butterflies played in his stomach.

The grounds round which he jogged were pretty much deserted, although as he passed the cliffs, he did see Trixie and Starlight — two of Blake's Atlesian friends — standing, armed, near the cliff edge. They waved to him as he ran past. Aside from that, he was alone. A lot of people had gone home, and those that had not were not around, either sleeping in, or else they'd got up earlier and headed out already. As he approached the farm, he was completely alone with his—

"On your left!"

There was a flash of red, and a trail of rose petals drifting lazily down towards the ground as Jaune felt himself struck on the side by a shockwave like the wake of an onrushing airship. He spun, or else he was spun, the world seeming to spin around him in turn, the thoughts momentarily disappearing from his head, aside from the thought that he was losing his balance.

He hit the ground with a soft thump and a softer groan.

There was a whooshing sound, and more rose petals fell around him as Ruby rushed back to his side.

"Sorry, Jaune," she said sheepishly, a wincing look upon her face, smiling awkwardly out of half her mouth, hands clasped behind her back. "I didn't mean to do that."

Jaune sighed. "It's okay."

Ruby held out one hand to help him up.

Jaune took it and scrambled upright until he was looking down on her once more.

"You know, you don't want to run around too fast," Ruby told him. "You'll work up a sweat, and you'll be all sticky when you get to your folks place."

Jaune let out a little nervous laugh. "I think I'll probably be sweating anyway by the time I get back there. Might as well get some exercise out of it."

Ruby looked up at him. Her silver eyes seemed especially bright today; perhaps it was the way the light was falling on them. "You want to talk about it?"

"I…" Jaune hesitated. "No, it's fine. I don't want to bother you."

He started to turn away, but as he turned, Ruby reached out and took hold of his arm with both hands.

"Good thing you're not bothering me then, isn't it?" Ruby said, a slight smile upon her face.

Jaune looked down at her for a moment, and then he smiled himself. "Thanks," he said.

They walked the rest of the way towards the farm, Ruby still holding on to his arm with both hands, and settled down in front of the chicken coop.

They sat side by side, watching the chickens cluck and peck at the earth and strut up and down. Or rather, Jaune watched, while Ruby looked up at Jaune expectantly. She didn't say anything, she didn't push him, she just… waited.

Jaune clasped his hands together between his knees. "I'm nervous, Ruby."

"I kind of figured," Ruby muttered. "What about?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment. "I have seven sisters, and all but one of them is older than me," he said. "My oldest sister, Rouge, was too old; she was already a teenager by the time I started crawling; she was getting married by the time I started to talk … I was the flower boy at her wedding."

Ruby frowned slightly. "Isn't it supposed to be a flower girl?"

Jaune didn't answer her directly; instead, he went on, "But the rest of my sisters … they were old enough to 'play' with me and not old enough to care what I thought about it. I was their dress-up doll; I was where they experimented with new hairstyles; I did basically whatever they wanted me to do, always. That's just how it was for me growing up."

"You're making me feel pretty grateful to Yang right now," Ruby said softly.

Jaune chuckled. "Maybe you should be," he said. He paused for a moment. "Nobody wanted me to go to Beacon. Not my parents, not my sisters. They said that I wouldn't be able to handle it, that I'd only get myself killed, that I didn't have what it took. That's why I had to forge transcripts to get in, because there was no way I could take the equivalency tests, let alone go to a combat school. So I got the forged transcripts, and I begged a family friend to let me use their computer for the headmaster's interview, and in the end, I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night and stole Crocea Mors from off the wall … and then I broke it." He bowed his head. "What am I supposed to say to them when I get back?"

"Tell them they were wrong," Ruby said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Tell them that you saved my life, that I'd be dead if it wasn't for you, that Sunset would be dead if it wasn't for you. Tell them that you broke the sword defending your partner in battle, doing exactly what a huntsman should do."

She paused for a moment. "Maybe you're not the best fighter on our team, or in our year, but you've got the heart of a huntsman, Jaune, you've proven that over and over again." She grinned. "Maybe tell your family that you'd have the skill of a huntsman too if they'd actually let you train before you got to Beacon."

This time, Jaune's laughter, when it came, possessed a slightly nervous quality to it. "I don't know if I'm that brave."

"You're brave enough to charge Cinder, but not brave enough to tell your parents the truth?" Ruby asked, a slightly teasing note in her voice.

"Cinder could only kill me," Jaune declared. "My family…" He trailed off. "And then there's Pyrrha."

"Shouldn't you be talking to her about some of this stuff?" Ruby asked. "I mean, she is your girlfriend."

"Probably," Jaune admitted. "And it's not that I couldn't just … well, maybe I couldn't talk to her about all of it. When she offered to come with me, I accepted because I wanted her there, and I still do, but … what if they're mean to her, what if they don't like her, what if they … I don't want to take her to my home only to be treated the way that … the way that her mom treated me. It wasn't fun, and I don't want that to happen to her. I don't want her to think that I set this up as some sort of payback—"

"Pyrrha would never think that," Ruby exclaimed. "Pyrrha knows you better than that, Jaune. She knows the way you feel about her. And besides, why wouldn't they like her? Everyone loves Pyrrha."

"Because she's from Beacon? Because she's not from around there?" Jaune suggested. "The truth is — and this is something I definitely can't talk to Pyrrha about — that if they don't not like her, it might be even worse; what if…" He glanced down at Ruby. "What if she finds someone better than me?"

"What?!" Ruby cried. "What are you talking about?"

A frown crinkled Jaune's features. "Ruby, where I come from … men are men, you know? They're farmers, they're shepherds, they tame horses and hunt game." He paused for a moment. "I wanted so badly to be one of them. But I wasn't. I couldn't tame a horse, I couldn't ride a bull, I couldn't track a deer through the forest. One guy gave me a rabbit to kill and skin once, and I … I couldn't do it; I had to let it go."

"I'm glad you did," Ruby said. "Why would you want to kill a poor defenceless bunny?"

"Because it would have made me a man?" Jaune suggested. "I was always stuck with my sisters, or else I hung out with girls like Miranda; and it didn't matter that some of my sisters were as tough as any man in town, it still … it made me a girl to them."

"There's nothing wrong with being a girl," Ruby pointed out.

"I know," Jaune said quickly. "But that doesn't make it any easier to be the outcast, to be told that you have the wrong friends, that you're not doing it right.

"When I was twelve, I was out with my Dad, and we saw this horse, this magnificent horse with a star on its forehead, being taken away towards the train station. No one could tame it, you see, it was completely wild, and since it was no use, it was being sent to the knackers yard. I begged Dad to let me try and ride it, and he told me that if I could, he'd buy me the horse. I could see it all so clearly in my head, how I'd finally win everyone's respect, prove that I wasn't what they thought I was." He hesitated. "It threw me off about ten feet across the market square. And the worst part wasn't the way that everyone laughed at me for weeks — although that wasn't great — but how disappointed Dad looked afterwards. He didn't say anything but … I could tell."

There was a moment of silence between them, a silence broken only by the clucking of the chickens as they greedily gobbled up the feed spread out before them.

"I think," he admitted, "I think that part of the reason why I wanted to come to Beacon so badly was that I wanted to prove that I could do this thing that my Dad and my grandfather had done, that Arc men do, even if I couldn't do anything else. And I know that's why I didn't want Pyrrha's help at first, because … it would feel like nothing had changed, that I was still doing it wrong." He gave a chuckle laced with bitterness. "Stupid, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Jaune," Ruby said, placing a hand upon his elbow. "That doesn't sound great, having to grow up like that, but … I don't see what this has to do with Pyrrha."

"Isn't it obvious?" Jaune asked. "What if we get back to my place and—?"

"Your sisters show her embarrassing photos of you?"

"No! Oh God, I hadn't even thought about that," Jaune groaned.

"Sorry."

"I meant," Jaune said, "What if we get there, and Pyrrha finds herself a real man, with muscles like tree trunks and legs like stone and a jaw you could cast iron on? The kind of man that I could never be."

Again, a silence fell between them. Jaune looked away. He could see it in his mind's eye as clearly as he could see the chickens and their coop in front of him: Pyrrha, hanging on one of the enormous arms of Red Beauregard or Duck Robertson, walking away, her red sash trailing after her, leaving him behind.

The silence was shattered by Ruby sniggering, covering her mouth as she tried to hold back the giggles.

"Hey!" Jaune cried. "Ruby, I'm serious!"

"I know," Ruby said, in between chuckles. "That's what makes it so funny!" She took a deep breath, and then another, seeming to calm down a little. "Come on, Jaune, do you really not know Pyrrha at all?"

"I know I don't deserve her," Jaune said. "And Sunset says that deserving doesn't matter when it comes to love, but—"

"Sunset's wrong!" Ruby cried, shooting to her feet. "I mean, okay, she's actually right about this, which is kind of funny, considering how often she's wrong about stuff, but the point is … the point is that you're amazing, and you absolutely deserve Pyrrha. You're brave and smart and sweet and kind, and if your family and everyone in your stupid village can't see that, then they're just idiots, and they're the ones who don't deserve you!" Ruby's hands were balled into fists, and she held them up in front of her face as though she wanted to hit someone.

"Ruby—" Jaune began.

"But at the same time," Ruby went on loudly, cutting him off, "you are also a really huge idiot! Don't you think that if Pyrrha wanted some big guy, some manly guy, she'd be dating Cardin instead of you? Actually, no, forget Cardin; look at this."

She got out her scroll, and Jaune watched for a moment as she flicked through it, swiping her forefinger across the screen, until she showed him a photograph of an imposing looking man, tall and broad-shouldered and muscular, with long dark hair ending in red tips like embers burning amidst coal.

Jaune's eyes widened a little bit. "Who's that?"

"That's Juturna's brother," Ruby explained.

Jaune blinked. "You mean the—"

"The one Pyrrha's mom wanted her to marry, yeah," Ruby agreed. "But she chose you instead. Because she doesn't want a tough guy any more than she wants a rich guy. She wants a good guy, and there's no better guy than you."

Jaune hesitated for a moment "You think so?"

Ruby grinned. "I know so."

A sigh of relief emerged from out of Jaune's mouth. He allowed himself a slight smile in turn. "Thanks, Ruby. I guess that last part does sound kind of stupid, doesn't it?"

"A little bit, yeah," Ruby agreed.

"I just … I love her so much, you know?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, nodding, "I know."

"And I guess I can't stop thinking, worrying, that one day, she'll wake up and realise that she could do so much better than me."

"You should talk to her about this," Ruby suggested. "She might laugh at some of it — and you deserve it — but I think she'll also be able to tell you that you've got nothing to worry about."

"You're right," Jaune said. "Thanks, Ruby."

"What are friends for, right?"

"Right," Jaune agreed. "So what are you doing out here?"

"Huh?"

"Before you started listening to all my problems," Jaune prompted. "What brought you out here in the first place?"

Ruby looked down at her booted feet, clasping her hands together in front of her. "It doesn't matter," she murmured.

Jaune held out one hand to her. "What are friends for?"

Ruby hesitated, then, gently, slowly, she placed her small hand in the palm of his and let him pull her back onto the bench.

She leaned on him, resting her head upon his shoulder. "I guess … I'm a little worried too."

Jaune looked at her, as best he could with her leaning against him the way she was. "Worried about what?"

"Professor Ozpin wants to talk to me today," Ruby explained. "He's going to tell me about Mom, just like he promised he would before we went to Mountain Glenn."

"That sounds great," Jaune declared. "I mean, isn't that what you wanted?"

"It was," Ruby said. "It is. I want to know everything about her, what she was like and what she did and … and everything. But … I'm a bit worried that…" She trailed off.

Jaune didn't say anything. He knew that there was more to come; he knew that more would come; he just had to let it, patiently.

And so, he waited, letting Ruby lean on him, taking her time.

He waited, and eventually, she said, "Dad never talks about her. About Mom. I guess it hurts too much. Uncle Qrow never said much either. The only person who would talk to me about Mom was Yang. When I was a kid, she used to tell me all these stories about the adventures Mom had, the monsters she defeated, the people she saved, how much of a hero she was. I think … I'm pretty sure Yang made most of those stories up, maybe all of them. But they were really wonderful stories, and—"

"And you're afraid the reality won't live up to them?" Jaune guessed.

"I guess … I guess so," Ruby murmured.

Jaune put his arm around Ruby squeezing her shoulder with one hand. "I get it. Well, I don't get it, but I can imagine. But at the same time, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"No?" Ruby asked. "Why not?"

"Because she was your mom," Jaune told her. "And I'm sure she must have been pretty darn special to have a daughter as amazing as you."

Ruby giggled and burrowed a little closer into his side. "Thanks, Jaune."

"And seriously," Jaune added, "from what you've told us about your mom's diary, about the things she did … she sounds like she was plenty amazing, even by the time she was our age. I don't think you have anything to worry about, in terms of living up to your expectations."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Now I'm the one who feels stupid."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's still me," Jaune assured her. "I should probably get back now. I don't want to keep Pyrrha waiting, once she's ready."

"How do I look?" Pyrrha asked, anxiety making her sound slightly breathless to Sunset's ears.

Sunset leaned back on her chair, pushing off the wall until it was balancing upon its rear legs. Her eyebrows rose appreciatively. "You look … stunning," she said.

Pyrrha sighed with relief. "Thank you, Sunset, that … that's very good to hear."

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of green and black. The black was on the bodice, which had a v-shaped neckline and short sleeves stopping only a little below the shoulders, leaving her arms bare to the world, although Pyrrha still wore her golden armband on her right arm. The skirt, meanwhile, was an emerald green that matched her eyes, full and floor length, almost a gown, concealing her feet from view and spreading out around her. Green too was the short cape she wore wrapped around her shoulders, covering her neck and some of her chest but only reaching down just below her waist behind her. A belt of gold clinched tightly around her waist, while matching golden bracers, long and etched with swirling patterns, bound about her wrists and forearms. Her hair was worn in its habitual ponytail, her circlet golden 'bout her brow, covered up slightly by her bangs, with the golden chains and their teal drops descending upon either side. The absence of her usual gloves revealed that Pyrrha had painted her fingernails as golden as her circlet for the occasion.

"Was there ever really a doubt?" Sunset asked. She let her chair rock back onto four legs before she stood up. "Twirl for me; let me see the whole thing."

Pyrrha smiled a little as she spun on her toe, skirt and cape alike swirling around her like water in a whirling current. Her ponytail flew out behind her, almost hitting Sunset in the face, and Sunset could not help but be amused at the way that Pyrrha seemed to instinctively throw out her arms gracefully on either side of her.

"I repeat," Sunset said, "was there ever a doubt?"

Pyrrha stopped twirling, coming to a stop facing Sunset once more. "You do like it then?"

Sunset nodded. "I do," she confirmed, smiling fondly at Pyrrha's anxiousness.

Pyrrha nodded. "And you think it will do?"

"‘Will do’?" Sunset repeated. "Well, I mean…"

Pyrrha frowned beneath her circlet. "What's the matter?"

Sunset shrugged. "Do you think it might be a bit much?"

Pyrrha's face fell. "Do you think it's too much?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, does it?" Sunset asked. "But you've seen how Jaune dresses."

"That's rather unfair, Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully.

"Is it?" Sunset asked. "Is it really? He wears a breakfast cereal hoodie."

"How would you like it if someone were to look at you in that leather jacket and judge you incapable of dressing up?" Pyrrha responded.

"A good point, well made," Sunset acknowledged.

Pyrrha reached out and gripped the edge of her cape with one hand. "It's his family," she said. "Jaune is taking me to meet his family, and for his father's birthday celebrations. Do you know what that means?" A flush of colour rose to her cheeks as she answered her own question, glancing away from Sunset as she murmured, "It means that he could imagine making me a part of his family one day."

Sunset said nothing; she just smiled at her, the peerless warrior who now blushed so shyly and spoke so softly.

Pyrrha looked back up at Sunset. "That's not something I take lightly," she declared. "And I won't have Jaune think that I take it lightly either."

"I never suggested that you should," Sunset said quietly as she drifted across the dorm room to where Pyrrha's case sat upon Pyrrha's bed. One of Pyrrha's cases anyway; Miló, Akoúo̱, and all her armour were in a separate case on the floor; Pyrrha was taking them just in case they were needed.

Her main case, the one on the bed, was large and hard — it had a solid, plastic surface — and beige in colour, with four wheels on the bottom and a black handle on a metal pole sticking out the top.

It was also full of dresses.

Sunset folded her arms. "So how many balls are you planning on attending at Jaune's home in the sticks? I mean, I know I'm following you out there to research Jaune's heritage, but I'm not expecting to find any actual noblemen."

Pyrrha let out a little nervous titter. "I'm not really a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl," she said apologetically. "I don't want to pretend to someone I'm not. I want to be myself, but my very best self, in as much as I possess a self. And besides I … I want to make the best possible impression on Jaune's family." Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. "If they don't like me, then I … I don't want to force Jaune to choose between me or his family."

"You did," Sunset pointed out.

"Yes, and it was … easier than it should have been to choose, but that is no reason for me to seek to put Jaune through the same thing." Pyrrha looked at Sunset. "I want them to approve of me, to find me a … a suitable match for their son. Is that so wrong?"

"If I search this room, am I going to find a notebook with 'Mrs. Pyrrha Arc' written over and over again in beautiful cursive handwriting?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha chuckled. "No," she said. "Not least because Jaune will probably have to take my name since I'm the—"

"Sole heir to the noble House of Nikos, of course," Sunset murmured.

"But," Pyrrha continued, "that aside … would you judge me terribly if you did find such a thing?"

Sunset grinned. "I might mock you for it, but fondly, always fondly. If I were too inclined to judgement, I would have to judge you for the fact that you said 'Jaune will' take your name, not ‘Jaune might’ or ‘Jaune would.’"

"Yes, I … I suppose I did," Pyrrha admitted, covering her mouth with one hand as a little laugh escaped.

"I love him," she whispered, as though it were a great secret she were confessing and not the most obvious thing in all of Remnant. "And he … he finds me fit to meet his parents."

The smile faded from Pyrrha's face as she turned away from Sunset, her skirt flowing around her.

"Sunset," she said, "how old do you think Ruby's mother was when she died?"

Sunset frowned. "I … I don't know."

"Neither do I," Pyrrha said. "But I … have gotten the impression that she died young."

"You're not going to die," Sunset declared.

"We are on a perilous road, Sunset, the same road that Team Stark walked before us," Pyrrha said. "Their letters below ours are a reminder that they too faced perils greater than those endured by other huntsmen and huntresses … and of the fate that awaited them at the end of that road."

"You will not die," Sunset insisted.

"We will all die one day, Sunset."

"Not yet, not in battle, not so young."

"You cannot guarantee that," Pyrrha said, whirling to face her. "Is it so wrong that, knowing what may be demanded of me, knowing that I may not live to see our graduation that I should seek to… to take Jaune by the hand and say to all the world that he is mine and I am his?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I … I do not like the tenor of your thoughts," she muttered. "And would you would not conjure up such gloomy, melancholy thoughts like dark clouds marring your gay apparel." She ran one hand through her fiery hair. "But, since you do so … your logic cannot be doubted, strange though it may be to me. We ponies … we do not feel time or fate breathe so upon our necks. Have you spoken to Jaune about this?"

"No," Pyrrha said softly. "No, I have not."

"Don't you think you should, or he'll be very surprised when he gets to the registrar's?" Sunset said. "In all seriousness, he may not have thought this through as you have."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But … there is time yet."

"Not what you said a moment ago."

"I haven't met his parents yet, received their approval and, I hope, their blessing," Pyrrha pointed out. "I couldn't possibly broach the subject until then. It would be highly, improperly presumptuous of me, not to mention disrespectful." She sighed. "What am I going to do if they don't like me, Sunset?"

"Then," Sunset found that she could not restrain a laugh. "Then fetch the rarest flower from the highest mountain and bring it to their door. Then vanquish every rival suitor in single combat. Then fetch them monsters of such size and strength that they quail and beg you take them away again. Do the labours if you must. You are a hero sprung out of the tales of old, if any are, the evenstar of an age gone by? Then prove yourself. Do what you have to do and don't take no for an answer."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Not quite the answer I expected, although from you, I probably should have."

"Is there anything you would not do for love?" Sunset asked.

"Nothing wicked," Pyrrha replied. "But that aside … all courses are open to me."

Sunset's smile faltered momentarily, and she felt almost relieved to hear the knock on the door.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune called from the other side. "Can I come in?"

Pyrrha started for the door, but Sunset held up a hand to stay her where she was.

"Talk to him," Sunset urged in a whisper as she walked towards the door in Pyrrha's place.

"I will," Pyrrha promised quietly.

Sunset opened the door, gesturing with one hand for Jaune to enter. "Good morning, sir," she said in a tone that was dry and yet at the same time affected stuffy.

Jaune walked in, Ruby following close behind. Both of them gave Sunset a funny glance as though they didn't understand the bit.

But when Jaune turned his gaze on Pyrrha, he stopped in his tracks.

He stared at her, his mouth forming an O from which only a single sound emerged. "Wow."

Once more, Pyrrha reached for the hem of her cape with one hand, even as she placed her hand upon her heart, her fingertips resting gently upon her skin. "It's not too much, then?"

"I don't care if it is," Jaune said, closing the distance between them. "You look beautiful."

Pyrrha smiled but bowed her head, turning her eyes demurely downwards and away from him.

Jaune reached up and touched her chin gently with his fingertips, tilting upwards so that their eyes met once again.

He cupped her cheek with his hand. Pyrrha smiled and closed her eyes and leaned into his palm as though she were trying to melt into it.

Her right hand rose, and she placed it atop his hand, holding it there that he might not withdraw it yet.

"Aww," Ruby cooed quietly from the back of the room.

Sunset watched them. There was no way Jaune's parents were going to dislike Pyrrha. Those two … just look at them. They had nothing to worry about.

She could practically hear the violins playing.

Jaune was the one who appeared to remember they were being watched first. His face went as red as Pyrrha's hair as he pulled his hand away.

"I— uh, I mean we should probably … we don't want to miss our train after all!" he yelped.

Pyrrha looked far less embarrassed about the whole thing. In fact, she didn't look embarrassed at all. In fact, judging by the way she brushed her fingertips against her own cheek where Jaune's hand had been, she mostly looked disappointed that it hadn't gone on longer.

Nevertheless, she said, "Yes, yes, I suppose we should be going. If there is a problem with the airship, we might…" She trailed off, absently closing and fastening up her case.

"I'll help you with that," Sunset said, levitating the suitcase off the bed. "You want to come see them off, Ruby?"

"Sure," Ruby said.

So they all headed down to the landing pads together, helping Jaune and Pyrrha with their luggage, and took one of the Skybuses down into Vale. From there, it was a walk through the streets to Gateway Station, with the wheels of Pyrrha's case rattling and rumbling a little as they dragged it behind them.

Gateway Station, the principal station for trains running north out of Vale, was an antique building, built out of old-fashioned red brick, with a great glass dome forming the ceiling. There was a statue of Professor Ozpin outside, celebrating none of his achievements as a huntsman or a headmaster but rather the fact that he had campaigned to save the historic dome from demolition some years ago. Said glass dome made the inside of the station rather hot, even as the days of summer waned, or at least, that was how it felt to Sunset as the sun beat down on them through the glass.

The trains here were about as old-fashioned as the glass dome: instead of electronic doors, they had manual locks that only opened from the outside, so that if you wanted to open them from the inside, you had to stick your hand out the window. The kind of trains you saw in old movies, or in Equestria.

Nevertheless, this was the kind of train that Jaune and Pyrrha were stuck with, and so, Sunset and Ruby watched them climb aboard, luggage and all, with all of the good wishes of their teammates accompanying them.

And then they stood on the platform and watched as the train huffed away, rattling and clanking as it went.

"I hope they're okay," Ruby said.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Sunset asked. "Is everything okay with Jaune?"

"Yeah," Ruby assured her. "Pretty much."

Sunset raised an eyebrow at that, but it was a little late now, and so she said, "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Better," Ruby said. "Definitely better. I'm looking forward to it. I'm finally going to get the answers I've wanted, all of them."

Sunset nodded. "Hey, Ruby … you want to hang out after? My treat, your choice. It feels like…" Sunset stopped short of saying it felt like the least she could do.

Ruby looked up at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Once you're done with Professor Ozpin and I'm done with Blake and Penny."

"I'd like that," Ruby said.

"Awesome," Sunset said. "Where do you want to go, any ideas?"

"Well, if you're paying…"

"Hang on, hang on; I'm not made of lien."

The train carriage looked a little worse for wear, not too surprising considering its apparent age. The seat cushions looked worn out, or going that way. They did not look particularly comfortable, nor — as Pyrrha sat down in the window seat, smoothing her cape out before she sat down and smoothing her skirt out after — did it feel particularly comfortable either. Still, it was undoubtedly better than standing all the way to Jaune's home.

Jaune sat down in the aisle seat beside her. He looked a little pale, and Pyrrha wondered whether he was suffering from motion sickness again.

Except the train hadn't started moving yet.

As Pyrrha thought that, the train lurched into motion, moving off from the platform with a thud and a shudder and a rumble. The whole carriage vibrated, and the rattle of the wheels upon the track was audible as the train rolled northwards out of the station.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, placing a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright? Are you feeling ill?"

"No," Jaune said at once. "No, I…" He looked at her. "Are you wearing perfume?"

She was, as it happened; she was wearing the new scent from Imperial Fragrance. It wasn't something that she would have normally worn — some might have said that using scented shampoo was bad enough — but given the circumstances, she hadn't seen any harm in it.

No harm and possibly something to gain.

It was funny; she'd hoped that he would notice, but now that he had noticed, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Uh, yes," Pyrrha said. "Just something I thought I'd try out." She did not ask if he liked it, even as she rather badly wanted to know.

Jaune sniffed. "Jasmine?"

"That's one of the scents I think, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune smiled. "It smells good on you; it goes with the smell of your hair."

"That's good to know!" Pyrrha said. It was especially good to know, because she'd chosen it very deliberately to complement her hair scent.

He liked it. That was good, that was wonderful, but Pyrrha wasn't sure how or if she ought to say so, especially since it looked as though Jaune had things on his mind.

For that matter, Pyrrha had things on her mind too, like the question of how she would be received amongst Jaune's family.

"I have something to tell you," Jaune and Pyrrha both said to one another simultaneously.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. "Please, you first."

"No, ladies first," Jaune replied. "I insist."

Pyrrha half felt that, as the gentleman, he should have gone first and spared her the awkwardness, but nevertheless, she said, "I … I'm overjoyed that you want me to come with you on this family visit, really, I am. But at the same time … I'm a little nervous."

Jaune twisted round in his seat so that he was more facing her. "Nervous about what?"

"Nervous about … about meeting your family," Pyrha admitted. "About what happens if … if they don't like me. If they don't approve of me."

Pyrrha had to admit, if only to herself, that the silence with which Jaune received her pronouncement was not very encouraging.

"That … that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Jaune confessed. "I can't … I don't know how they'll react, how they'll … I can't guarantee that they'll treat you the way that you deserve to be treated. People back home … they don't all like outsiders."

It was not the reassurance that she might have hoped for, but at least he had been honest with her instead of insisting that everything would be fine right up until it wasn't. She could prepare herself now, instead of expecting smiles right up until she was met with knives.

Of course, it did lend far more weight to her other concern, that Jaune might be forced to choose between his family and her.

"I … I see," she said softly. "Jaune … if it comes down to it than I—"

"My choice is you," Jaune said.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. "Jaune?"

"If I have to choose, if they make me choose, my choice will be you," Jaune declared. "How can I do anything else, when you've always believed in me and been there for me instead of…?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha whispered, and in her tone was mingled with the immense joy that she felt at him saying this to her and the immense sadness she felt that it might be necessary. "You don't have to … this is your family."

"Yes," Jaune agreed. "My family, and so, my choice."

Pyrrha nodded. "Of course. You've thought about this?"

"A little," Jaune confessed. "Although, to be honest, I was more worried that you'd leave me for one of the better-looking guys back home." He grinned sheepishly.

Pyrrha suspected that he had made that up in order to lighten the mood, but she appreciated the effort and laughed anyway.

"Jaune!" She cried. "That is the most ridiculous thing…" She slipped her hand through his arm, then took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his own. "You don't … you will never have to … it is you, you now and always, I am suited in love and life. Though Mistral and the good fight will always have a claim upon my body, my heart and soul belong to you now." She squeezed his hand. "And if your parents don't like me or think that I'm not good enough for you, well, then I'll just have to prove them wrong! I'll do whatever it takes, because I am … because I'm with you, and you're with me, and whatever is waiting for us, we'll face it together."

Jaune put his other hand over hers.

"We'll face it together," he agreed, "and we'll beat it together."

And the train bore them inexorably onwards.

Author's Note

Don't expect too many chapters to have two pictures in them, but I'd be lying if I denied that part of the appeal of this part of the story is the opportunity for pictures of Pyrrha in pretty dresses.

The first picture, of Pyrrha and Jaune together, is by Artsbysmarty

The second picture, of Pyrrha having her face stroked, is by Schrwby

Alba Longa (Rewritten)

Alba Longa

In Mistral, they had a saying: the city teaches the man.

It was a saying that was somewhat on Pyrrha’s mind as she and Jaune rode the antiquated train down the tracks to Jaune’s hometown.

Judging by the failure to invest in the railway line, and by the fact that there were less than a half-dozen people in the carriage besides themselves, Pyrrha thought it was fair to say that this area wasn’t hugely popular with visitors.

Jaune glanced past her out the window. Perhaps he was looking for signs of the countryside that he recognised, signs that they were drawing near to their destination. His eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, found her face for a moment, but then looked away.

And then he turned his entire head away, depriving Pyrrha of the sight of his eyes, and leaned forward to rest his forehead upon the back of the seat in front of them.

Pyrrha reached out, and the golden bracelet on her wrist glimmered in the light coming through the somewhat grubby window.

“Jaune,” she murmured.

“I’m fine,” Jaune said softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I just…” Jaune trailed off. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine, but … it’s not something that you can help with, more than you already have. More than you already are, just by being here.”

Pyrrha left her hand in place upon his shoulder, but nodded and whispered, “Alright.” She let him be other than the lingering presence of her hand.

He was right, after all; there wasn’t anything more that she could do for him right now. He had confessed to her at least some of what was bothering him, and if and when the time came to confront those things, then she would support him with everything she had, but until that happened … she did not have Sunset’s semblance, to fight Jaune’s inner battle for him.

She wasn’t certain that Jaune would wish her to do so.

Her mind went back to that saying: the city teaches the man. Or the town or village, as the case may be. Jaune hadn’t even given her so much in the way of details to work out exactly how large the place he hailed from was. But it had made him, just as Mistral had made her, and that made Pyrrha curious.

What sort of place had produced Jaune Arc, the boy who was so tormented by insecurity but who had also not hesitated to hurl himself on Cinder to try and protect her? The boy who would have been one of the great warriors in the world if only he could have fought with the strength of his heart, but who unfortunately was condemned to try and fight with his somewhat less overwhelming skill at arms? The man who had arrived at Beacon possessing so much aura yet been so completely ignorant of aura at a time when most of his peers were already mastering their semblances?

What sort of place had produced these contradictions? What sort of home had taught him so many lessons that had stood him in such good stead at Beacon, yet had failed to teach him so many of the basics that he needed to survive there, and that without mentioning the lessons that he had needed to unlearn at Beacon?

They had all arrived at Beacon as products of their environment: Ruby’s effortless kindness and truly fearless — not always in a positive sense — courage; Sunset’s bitter, prickly self-regard; Pyrrha’s courtesy and loneliness combined; you could look at her and at her teammates and if you knew their stories, then you could see how they had been written to that point, to be who they had been when first they had begun to walk those hallowed halls at which point they had all, slowly, began to become something else in addition to what they had been before. But what environment had produced Jaune Arc?

He had given her some of the answers already by confessing to her some of his concerns: a place distrustful of outsiders, a place that might not welcome her; parents who had not believed in him, who had, if they had not been actively cruel, had not nurtured him as he deserved and might have wished.

Pyrrha wondered if, in that, he was more unfortunate than her. Yes, her own mother had pruned and gardened at her dreams, directing her towards the field that was most suitable for a daughter of the House of Nikos and of most interest to her mother as a former tournament fighter; yes, her mother had pushed her relentlessly to success and excellence in that field. But she had never told Pyrrha to just give up, never told her that she would never be worth anything, that her dreams were hopeless and her destiny would be forever beyond her reach.

There was only one member of Team SAPR who held Lady Nikos in fond regard, and that was not Pyrrha, but nevertheless, she could not help but feel that she had been more fortunate in her parent than Jaune had in his. At least she hadn’t had to sneak away in the dead of night without any idea what she was doing.

It occurred to Pyrrha that, if it hadn’t been for her, Jaune would have died during Initiation.

He would have … her mind recoiled from even trying to consider what would have become of Jaune.

She reflexively tightened her grip upon his shoulder, making Jaune wince in pain.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, pulling her hand away as though he had burned her.

Jaune looked at her. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone light. “I mean, is everything okay?”

“I … I was just…” Pyrrha hesitated. ‘I was thinking about how I saved your life’ seemed unbelievably arrogant. ‘I was just thinking about how you almost died’ sounded rather gloomy, at a time when Jaune seemed gloomy enough. ‘I was just thinking about how unprepared you were to go to Beacon’ was just cruel. “I was just thinking about Initiation,” she murmured.

It sounded weak and feeble, even to her ears.

“Yeah,” Jaune said softly. “Yeah, I … Initiation. Huh.” He glanced down, then looked back up at her. “Yeah, I got lucky there, didn’t I?”

Pyrrha said nothing. She didn’t know what to say. She had no idea how she ought to reply to him.

Fortunately, Jaune continued, “Ruby told me that if my Dad had bothered to teach me anything, then I would have been better prepared. I mean, that’s obvious, but I would have been able to stand, maybe not as your equal, but more than I am.”

“Ruby is wise, sometimes,” Pyrrha murmured, while at the same time, she couldn’t quite restrain herself from thinking that she could have told him that if he had asked her.

“But…” Jaune trailed off, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“What is it?” Pyrrha asked.

“Nothing,” Jaune replied. “I mean … I was thinking that maybe, if I had been trained, and if I had been prepared then … then you wouldn’t have had to save my life, and who knows what would have been different? Maybe we wouldn’t have ended up together. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that maybe—”

“It all happened for a reason?” Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune smiled, his eyes brightening as he did so. “Maybe. Or maybe not. It sounds kind of stupid, now that I say it out loud.”

I don’t think that it’s stupid at all, Pyrrha thought. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, taking his hand. “I mean, what with an eager boy and a tournament champion teaming up like this … it is almost enough to make you believe in fate, don’t you think?”

Jaune flashed his teeth at her, as bright as the sun outside. “Huh. I’d never thought of it quite like that, but now that you mention it … I suppose it is.” He reached out and took her hand in his.

Pyrrha smiled at him. “So, is this the way you came to Beacon? On the train, I mean?”

Jaune nodded. “Part of the way. There’s a late night train; it’s supposed to be disembarking only, but nobody stops you from getting on if you want to. I took that part of the way, and then boarded the skyliner with all the other students from outside of the city, like Ruby.” He tried to smile, but ended up grimacing. “I wasn’t in the best shape even before I got on the airship.”

Pyrrha nodded. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel as bad as I thought I would, as I was afraid I would,” Jaune said. “Maybe … maybe it’s because I’m not alone. Maybe it’s taking the edge off.”

“Happy to help,” Pyrrha said.

“I appreciate it,” Jaune said. “Hey, Pyrrha?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like me to show you around just a little bit, before we head to my place?” he asked. “There’s not a lot to see, but…”

He was stalling. She knew that, and he probably knew that she knew that, but if he didn’t want to go home right away, she wasn’t going to force him, and she had just been wondering what the place that had reared Jaune Arc was like, so Pyrrha said, “That sounds wonderful. I’d like to see a little of your home before we get to, well, your home.”

Jaune nodded sharply. “Thanks. For coming.”

Pyrrha squeezed his hand. “It’ll be alright.”

“The train is now approaching Alba Longa,” the voice over the intercom announced. “If you’re leaving us here, please ensure that you have all your belongings with you.”

Pyrrha glanced out of the window. The countryside continued to roll past them uninterrupted. It was pleasant countryside to look upon — the grey mountains that shielded Vale’s eastern flank from the most dangerous of the grimm loomed large and jagged in the distance, while closer to the train tracks, verdant forests, a mixture of conifers and deciduous trees whose leaves had not yet begun to turn to gold, covered the world; red squirrels danced between the branches of the trees, badgers watched the train pass by, and Pyrrha could have sworn that she had even seen a stag watching from out of the cover of the trees — but considering that they were imminently approaching the stop, Pyrrha would have expected to have seen more sign of human habitation by this point.

And then the forest cleared out, the trees cut down and all evidence of them cleared to make way for a vast expanse of farmland, a sea of fields from which sprouted wheat as tall as Jaune or maybe a little taller, swaying back and forth in the wind as it stretched onwards towards the mountains. Pyrrha could see a farmhouse, mostly by the smoke rising out of its chimney, surrounded by such fields of tall wheat, and as the train rattled and belched its way down the track, sounding ever more sickly as it began to slow down, so Pyrrha could see other fields filled with wheat, maize, corn, and grain.

A farming town. I suppose that does explain why Jaune does well in plant science.

Jaune rose unsteadily to his feet, holding on to the seats behind theirs as he began to make his way towards the doors.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha called as she too got to her feet. She indicated his bag, containing amongst other things the broken fragments of Crocea Mors, in the overhead space above their seats. “Don’t forget your belongings,” she said, with a slight smile.

Jaune smiled back, sheepish and embarrassed, and reached up — almost toppling over as he reached for it — to pull his large and well-stuffed holdall down and sling it over his shoulder.

Pyrrha’s cases were too large to have been stored in the overhead space, and so, adjusting her cape so that it fell evenly off both her shoulders, she walked to the end of the carriage and pulled both cases out of the baggage rack where she had placed them.

They went out into the little space before the doors, waiting for the train to stop so they could disembark. Outside the door, through the open window that let a breeze into the train and made her ponytail dance behind her, Pyrrha could see that a few orchards — apples, peaches, and plums — interspersed the cereal fields, along with fields that bore neither wheat or grain but seemed to be growing strawberries and gooseberries. Sheep and cattle grazed here and there, while horses ambled about in wide enclosures.

The train came to a stop, and Jaune fumblingly opened the old-fashioned door before stepping down from the train and onto a narrow platform. His face was pale; being back on solid ground had clearly not abated all the nervousness that he was feeling about being back here.

The platform on which they had alighted was not quite large enough for the entire train, and the drop from the rearmost carriage to the ground looked too considerable to be attempted without aura, which might explain the reason why nobody was attempting it. The station itself was modest — with only a single building of red brick on the platform on which Jaune and Pyrrha stood and a narrow, wrought-iron bridge across to the other platform — but not without a certain charm: flower beds awash with all the colours of the rainbow decorated both platforms, and in one wooden bed, violets had been arranged in such a way as to spell out the words ‘Welcome to Alba Longa’ against the otherwise bare soil around them. A public house sat not far away, and Pyrrha could see some older gentlemen sitting at the tables outside, grey-bearded and pot-bellied, wearing flat caps and dark greatcoats. Some of them were smoking pipes, others were playing chequers, nearly all of them had a drink to hand.

There were other buildings she could see as well, houses she supposed, but not as many of them as she had expected and not so closely packed as well. Every house appeared to have a garden, although none of those gardens seemed to have much to stop the sheep and the goats from wandering in and out and between the houses wither they would, eating as they went.

“Home sweet home,” Jaune murmured as he took his bag out of Pyrrha’s unprotesting hands and slung it over his shoulder. He didn’t look particularly thrilled to be back.

It wasn’t what Pyrrha had expected, but that by no means made it bad. “So,” Pyrrha said, “where does my tour begin?”

If there was one word to describe Alba Longa, it would probably be ‘bucolic’; in all honesty, Pyrrha had not expected that such rural, rustic places existed in Vale; she knew that Mistral was full of villages — although none of those that she had visited as part of those publicity tours had ever seemed quite as chaotic as Jaune’s home — covering the length and breadth of its vast territory, but she had always thought of Vale as a place of cities, a kind of second-rate Atlas if that wasn’t too insulting a way of thinking about it — it probably was, in all honesty — but now that she thought about it some more, now that she was confronted with the actual fact of a rural Valish village, she found it so obvious that she didn’t know why she hadn’t thought about it before. Of course they had such places. Everywhere had such places.

Although probably, they were not as disorganised as this place. Some of the fields were fenced off, others sprawled out unmoored and unbordered while children with their arms full of stolen vegetables darted into and out of the tall wheat as irate farmers cursed their names; cattle lowed in the town square, the fat and contented-looking creatures shuffling around an equestrian statue worked in bronze of a hero with a sword very similar to Crocea Mors raised to the sky in one hand — Pyrrha considered asking Jaune if it was his ancestor, but decided after a moment’s thought that the reminder might just make him even more nervous than he already was and that it would probably be for the best not to burden him any further; sprawling mansions that seemed to have risen, higgledy-piggledy, over many generations sat side by side with rough wooden shacks.

And yet, for all its rustic chaos, there was a charm and beauty here as well. The town sat hard by a lake that glimmered under the light of the sun, and houses raised on wooden poles sat out in the water itself, while piscine faunus swam between them. The apples that grew on the trees were large and red and juicy, the peaches were swollen and ripe, even the lemons and limes growing in the gardens of the large estates looked inviting. The grass was, for the most part, ill-kept, thanks to the grazing animals, but there were a few white picket fences enfolding gardens with well-tended lawns, and Pyrrha could see the gardeners at work there — in particular, towards the south end of town there was a golf course and a bowling green that looked particularly well-maintained, backing on to a large building that might be the only stone structure in the entire community.

With the sun high in the sky and the breeze cool on her cheeks, the place had a soft, inviting atmosphere to it which made her feel quite comfortable here.

There were only a few shops, all of them clustered together down the same stretch of street — as much as Alba Longa had streets; they were not paved and were little more than dirt — a greengrocer advertising all local produce, a butcher's where a man with a straw hat and a striped apron gave Jaune a cheery wave as they walked by, a small bookshop with some comic books displayed in the window.

One thing that Pyrrha noticed after a while was that people were giving her — giving both of them, but her more than Jaune, possibly because they recognised him even after he had been away for some time — strange looks. Pyrrha was used to having the eyes of the world follow her wherever she went, but these gazes that she was getting now from the farmers and the field hands, from the herdsmen, from the idlers outside the inn, and from those sitting on their porches in their rocking chairs, were different from the looks that she normally got. These were not the looks of people awed by being in the presence of a celebrity; rather, they were the looks of people who weren’t sure if she was altogether to be trusted or not.

“Is everything alright?” she murmured. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No,” Jaune said quickly. “It’s just … I probably should have thought about this, but what with Miranda coming home after the Breach, it’s probably a safe bet that everyone knows where I went.”

Pyrrha frowned a little. “So they know you went to Beacon? I don’t understand; is that a problem for the whole town, not just your family?”

“I…” Jaune began, but trailed off quickly. “How do I explain this?”

He led her to a very large and sprawling oak tree, the eaves of which spread out in all directions, casting a shadow over the earth as the sunlight could only enter in small patches mottling the ground. Beneath the eaves of the great oak tree, they sat, resting their backs against the gnarly bark. As they sat, she found that she had a better view of Alba Longa here than from anywhere else in the village, with all the wooden houses and the fields spreading out towards the woods beyond, and all the people and the animals in between.

“So this is it,” Jaune said. “Where I grew up. What do you think?”

Pyrrha leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. “I think it’s beautiful. It’s so—”

“Peaceful?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Yes,” she said. “I can see that.”

“This is the kind of place where you can go your whole life without ever seeing a huntsman.”

Pyrrha looked around, looking now with the eyes of a huntress instead of a tourist or a girlfriend. Besides the thick woods, the lake would act as a barrier to any grimm coming from the west — non-aquatic grimm didn’t like the water and couldn’t swim — while notwithstanding the sheer fact of the mountains that warded all of Vale from the east, the woods were thick, and the north and east of Alba Long was ringed by seven hills which might have been better used as watchtowers but would offer some barrier to incursion anyway. And they were quite some way from the edge of Valish territory, so this town would be unlikely to be the first to feel the sting of any grimm incursion. Yes, she could see how it was possible that this place had dwelt for some time untroubled by the creatures of grimm, and if it were so that people here had never seen a huntsman before, then it would explain why they, one of whom was known to everyone — this was clearly the kind of place where everyone knew the business of all their neighbours as well as their own — to have gone away to become a huntsman, had attracted the kind of looks she had gotten here.

“I see,” she murmured.

“Do you?” Jaune asked. “Because it’s not just that people can go forever without seeing a huntsman; it’s that … it’s that they’ve gone for so long without seeing one that they’ve forgotten why there are huntsmen in the first place.”

Pyrrha sat up. “What do they think? That because they can’t see the grimm that the grimm don’t exist?”

“Maybe,” Jaune said. “I’ve never heard anyone put it quite like that, but it feels like that. This place … it wasn’t until I left to come to Beacon that I realised just how small and isolated this place is. I mean, you’ve come all the way from Mistral, and Ruby and Yang are from an island off the coast, Sunset and Weiss came down from Atlas — and before that, Sunset came to Atlas from another world altogether. There are people in Vale from all over the world and even beyond, but here, there’s practically nobody who wasn’t born here, and the ones that weren’t all knew someone here before they moved; it’s like you need a letter of introduction before you can live in this town. The only time there’s any real contact with the outside world is at harvest time, when the cargo trains come, and the excess crops get sold to Vale.

“I didn’t just sneak away to Beacon in the middle of the night because nobody here believed that I could do it … I did it because nobody here would have even believed that I, or anybody else for that matter, needed to do it. Things here go on the way they always have, and it seems like that’s the way they always will.

“It’s so weird, coming back here knowing … everything that we know. There’s so much darkness out there, and they can’t even see it.”

“Maybe that’s as it should be,” Pyrrha said softly.

Jaune looked at her like she was a little unhinged. “You really think so?”

“If everyone is fighting to protect the world, then what is really being protected?” Pyrrha asked him. “We don’t fight because we love the violence, and with respect to … to my mother and to certain others of my people, we don’t fight to win eternal glory for ourselves either. Surely we fight to protect … places like this.” She gestured to the town spread out before them. “If they can live in such peace that they think that what we do is pointless, then doesn’t that prove that we’re succeeding?”

“I guess,” Jaune said, although he sounded less than totally convinced. “Wouldn’t you like a little credit, though?”

“I’ve had credit enough, personally,” Pyrrha said. “I’m happy to just do what the world demands of me.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe we can’t stop Salem, but we can defend this way of life, even if it doesn’t value us at all, and right now, that feels like enough to me.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “I think I might still like a little credit,” he muttered. He grinned boyishly. “But I guess protecting home is pretty good too.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Speaking of which, are you…?”

“Not quite yet,” Jaune said as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Can we just sit here for a couple of moments?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said as she rested her head upon his shoulder once again. Like him, she closed her eyes. “So, apart from the fact that nobody saw the need for you to become a huntsman, what was it like growing up here?”

“Not always great,” Jaune admitted. “But not always bad, either. I … the problem was always me more than it was this place.”

Pyrrha frowned. “I’m sure that isn’t—”

“I’m the one who didn’t fit in,” Jaune went on, cutting her off. “I’m the one who wasn’t the right kind of person—”

“There is no such thing as the right kind of person,” Pyrrha said, softly but firmly all the same. “Except, perhaps, for those that others conform to their vision of what the ‘right kind of person’ is.”

Jaune was quiet for a moment. He didn’t look at her. “I guess … I can’t say that I was really happy here. That’s another reason why I left, if that doesn’t sound too selfish of me.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha assured him. “Unless choosing Beacon over Haven was selfish of me.”

Jaune nodded. “I … don’t have the best memories growing up here,” he said, “but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to hate this place. I maybe hate a couple of the people here, but mostly … I mean it wasn’t all bad. There were some good times too. Soon, everyone will probably start getting ready for the harvest festival; that’s a festival where they celebrate bringing in the harvest, well, I mean, obviously, it is … they actually chase the cattle out of the square, and the whole town comes together to celebrate another good year; it’s like a big party, with dancing and singing and games … and guys getting into fights when they’ve had too much cider.”

Pyrrha giggled, covering her mouth with one hand.

“The strawberries must be getting ripe about now,” Jaune said. “In fact, a lot of things will have to start being gathered in soon, but I always liked it when it came time to pick the strawberries; they’d let all us kids help out, and they wouldn’t mind too much if you ate a few or even took some home. It’s … this is the kind of place where everyone knows your name.”

“Which is why everyone is staring at you,” Pyrrha said.

“Exactly,” Jaune said. “They all recognise me, and yet at the same time, it’s like none of them know me at all.”

“Because they see what they want to see?” Pyrrha guessed.

“Not exactly,” Jaune replied. “It’s more like … this kind of place, where everyone knows everyone, this kind of place can be hard if you don’t fit in. Like Miranda … or like me. Because once people know that you don’t fit in, that you’re not what’s expected of you, not what they want you to be … that follows you everywhere; there’s no getting away from it; there’s no one who has no idea who you are and so just treats you … like a stranger. Instead, they all have a fixed idea of who you are: little Jaune Arc. It’s what I’ll always be to them, but … I feel as though I’ve changed so much since I went away, since coming to Beacon, that I’m just not that person anymore, if I ever was. I’m just not sure if they’ll ever be able to see that.”

Pyrrha felt that he must be specifically thinking of his family, and so she said, “I’m sure you will. I’m certain that you’ll show them.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you came to Beacon with no knowledge, no training, not even your aura activated, but you didn’t let any of that stop you,” Pyrrha reminded him. “That isn’t the behaviour of someone who gives up or takes no for an answer.”

“I think … I hope you’re right,” Jaune said. He took a deep breath. “And I think I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Jaune said, although he moved a little slowly as he got to his feet. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

He led her to one of the largest houses in the town, one that, like many of the large houses in Alba Longa, looked as though it had been built not all at once but in fits and starts and stages over several generations. It was built of painted wood — or it looked that way on the outside anyway; it might be like Mistral, where the houses had antique-seeming fronts, but Pyrrha doubted it — and much as it looked like a house of many different parts jammed together, so too was it painted in many different colours, as many colours as the rainbow in fact, each part of the house bearing a different colour splashed onto the wood with little regard for how it harmonised or didn’t with the rest of the house. A picket fence, likewise painted in myriad colours, surrounded a modest garden with gladioli growing just behind.

“Whenever a part of the house needs to be repainted, Dad just picks one of us and gets us to do it,” Jaune explained, “and we each had our own favourite colour, so … here we are.”

The gate was not locked, and Jaune pushed it open and held it for her as she followed him in. There was a porch with a swing but no one there, and no one was at the windows to see them as they walked down the dirt path through the front garden to the golden door.

Jaune hesitated in front of this door as though it were an alpha grimm, squaring his shoulders as he stood still, his arms hanging by his side.

Pyrrha said nothing. It wasn’t her place to say anything. This … this was Jaune’s battle, and she was confident that he could win it without her help.

But she did take his hand in hers and smiled at him to remind him that she was there if he needed her.

Jaune squared his shoulders, breathed in, and knocked on the door. His hand made a solid series of thumps upon the painted wood.

There was a moment of silence from the other side of the door.

“Please be Saphron, please be Saphron, please be Saphron,” Jaune muttered.

“Just a second!” someone called from inside the house.

“Kendal, great,” Jaune moaned quietly.

The door opened, revealing a young woman a few years older than Jaune and Pyrrha, dressed in a rough homespun green tunic and pants with a green-brown vest worn over the top. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Jaune, and like Jaune, her hair was cut short and somewhat untidy, although instead of falling down over her forehead, it stuck out in a series of mild spikes in front of her in a way that reminded Pyrrha somewhat of Rainbow Dash.

The girl stared at Jaune, her eyes widening as she took him in as though she wasn’t quite sure that he wasn’t a dream.

“Jaune?” she said, revealing as she spoke that she was missing a couple of teeth. “Is that you?”

Jaune smiled nervously. “Hey, K—”

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here, you know that?” she demanded.

“Kendal, I—”

“What, do you think that you can just creep away in the middle of the night with only a note to tell us where you were going, then say nothing for months and then suddenly just show up and everything is going to be okay?”

“I called Mom—”

“You didn’t call me, you big jackass!” Kendal yelled. “I spent two whole weeks searching the whole area around here for you in case you’d wandered out into the woods and gotten lost or something.”

Jaune took a step back. “You thought I couldn’t even find my way to Beacon? To the train station?”

“No, no, you do not get to turn this back on me after what you put me … what you put all of us through,” Kendal said. “I had to hear from Miranda Wells, Miranda Wells, if you please, that you weren’t dead in that big battle up in Vale. Miranda Wells! Why, I could just … come here, you!” She reached out for Jaune.

Pyrrha grabbed her wrist — gently, so as not to hurt her, but firmly all the same. “I understand that you have reason to be upset,” she said, “but please, don’t hurt him.”

Kendal looked at her as though she were only now noticing Pyrrha’s presence, which might even have been the case. “Hello,” she said. “You’re new … although I do feel as though I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Kendal frowned. Pyrrha, not wanting to bring Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes into the conversation, held her peace.

She also let Kendal go, her point having been made to her own satisfaction. She didn’t know exactly how Jaune’s family had treated him, because he didn’t go into details. He said that they had not been cruel to him, but she was not exactly inclined to take any chances on the subject.

Kendal continued to stare at Pyrrha, even as she rubbed her wrist with her other hand. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Jaune?”

“Right!” Jaune yelped. “Pyrrha, this is my sister, Kendal … one of my sisters; Kendal, this is…” He took a deep breath. “This is my girlfriend, Pyrrha Nikos.”

“Hello,” Pyrrha said.

Kendal smirked. “Let me guess: you’re an only child aren’t you, Pyrrha Nikos?”

“That’s right,” Pyrrha said uncertainly.

Kendal’s grin became something approaching savage. “Then I’ll forgive you for not realising that what’s about to happen to my brother isn’t going to hurt him.” She reached up and grabbed Jaune’s hair. “It’s just going to humiliate him a little!”

Jaune squawked in alarm as Kendal pulled his head downwards. The two struggled, and from the fact that Jaune was losing, Pyrrha guessed that he had deactivated his aura — doubtless because he didn’t wish to actually hurt his sister any more than she wished to hurt him. Soon, Kendal had gotten him in a headlock, and she held him there as he squirmed in her grasp, rubbing the top of his head vigorously with her fist.

“You feel that burn?” Kendal demanded. “That’s my heartburn from when I thought you were dead!”

Jaune groaned. “Come on — ah! — Kendal, get off! Come on, you left!”

“I go away, and then I come back; that’s completely different!”

“I went … and now I’m back; isn’t that the same thing?”

Kendal released him. “Back for how long?” she demanded.

“A few days,” Jaune said. “Dad’s birthday.”

“That’s going to be fun,” Kendal mutered.

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Jaune said.

Kendal grinned. “Don’t worry about it, little Jaune,” she said, in spite of the fact that Jaune was over a head taller than her. “If it gets too rough, you can hide behind me, just like you used to.” She folded her arms. “So, you actually made it to Beacon, huh?”

“Yeah, I made it,” Jaune said. He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, the other jabbing his thumb towards the centre of his chest. “You’re looking at Jaune Arc, huntsman in training.”

A huntsman in training who has done things that many grown huntsmen would shrink from, Pyrrha thought.

Kendal snorted and glanced at Pyrrha out of the side of her eyes. “And you’re dating this loser because? Are you guys at Bea— aah!”

“What?” Jaune asked.

“That’s where I saw you before: on the new picture!” Kendal yelled, pointing at Pyrrha. “You’re one of his teammates aren’t you?”

“Mom put the picture I sent on the wall?” Jaune asked.

“Of course, Mom put the picture up on the wall; Mom puts all the pictures up on the wall,” Kendal said. “God, River is going to be so insufferable.”

Assuming River is another sister, why would—?

“Please tell me that you didn’t,” Jaune said.

“Of course we did,” Kendal said. “Me, River, and Saphron. Aoko picked someone at random, Violet insisted that it was none of the above, Sky said that we were being ridiculous, and Rouge said that we were being irresponsible and childish … but then she made a pick anyway while Sky wasn’t around.”

“Oh, God,” Jaune whimpered.

“Um, what did you do?” Pyrrha asked.

“Jaune sent Mom a picture of himself with three hot chicks and a cute girl,” Kendal said. “So we—”

“They had a pool on which of you, Sunset, Blake, or Ruby I was dating,” Jaune groaned, sounding as though he wanted to sink into the floor and never reemerge.

Pyrrha’s mouth formed a little O of surprise. She couldn’t really find a reaction to that news because it was all just so outside of the normal realm of her experience. She wasn’t sure if she ought to be embarrassed, shocked, upset, or defensive; she wasn’t sure if, indeed, she ought to feel anything at all. “Oh,” she said.

“Kendal?” someone called from inside the house. “You’ve been at the door a long time, who is it?”

Jaune sighed. “How bad is it going to be in there?”

“Well, Dad’s not home right now,” Kendal said, as though that was a good thing. “But on the other hand, you did run away without telling us, and you have a girlfriend now, so on the whole … it’s going to be like you never went away.” She grabbed Jaune and pulled him inside.

Pyrrha felt that she had been left outside, forgotten. Certainly she had not been invited in.

Although that might not have been an oversight.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha entered the house after them, hoping that the Arcs would forgive the discourtesy.

Kendal dragged Jaune by the arm into a long hallway, lit by warm orange lamps that cast a soft, inviting glow reminiscent of a log fire onto the wood-floored room. Pyrrha followed as Jaune was brought down the hall and into a spacious dining room. The walls were wood-panelled, with red curtains on the windows and a real fire burning in the grate.

Various rural knickknacks and curios sat on the mantelpiece, although the thing that Pyrrha noticed most was the thing that wasn’t there: the place upon the mantelpiece reserved for the absent Crocea Mors, the stand where it had sat in pride of place until Jaune had taken it. Its absence — and the presence of its resting place — seemed to act as a silent reproof to him for what he had done, or would do when he noticed it.

The farthest wall from where Pyrrha stood in the doorway was covered in photographs, but they were too far away for her to be able to make them out in any amount of detail at all. A long red sofa sat between the two windows. There was an immense amount of space in the room surrounding the long dining table that sat in the centre of it, around which a quartet of women and girls were gathered, setting it for dinner.

“No, Saphron, the starter set goes on the outside; how could you forget that?”

“Since we don’t have starters every night in Argus.”

“River, a couple of those cups are cracked; we’ll use the willow-pattern ones instead. And where’s Sky?”

“We’re twins; we’re not a hive mind.”

Three of the four were being marshalled by the last and oldest of them, a woman who looked, in fact, as though she might be old enough to be Jaune’s mother, although it had to be said that she had aged quite gracefully if that were the case. She was wearing red, with a string necklace around her neck adorned with seven sparkling gemstones in the colours of the rainbow. She was continually gesturing with her hands as she directed the actions of the others and corrected their mistakes.

“Better set a couple more places, 'cause guess who found the way back home!” Kendal announced cheerfully, gesturing at Jaune with both hands.

All four women stopped what they were doing. Someone dropped a cup which shattered on the floor. A handful of spoons clattered onto the table. Four pairs of blue eyes widened in astonishment.

“Jaune?” the eldest of the women, the one in red who might be his mother, murmured.

Jaune laughed nervously. “Hi.”

“Jaune!” shrieked a young woman in violet, whose hair, worn in a pixie cut, was not the golden blonde of her brother and sisters and possible mother, but more of a sandy brown colour. She led the charge towards him, closely followed by the others, questions issuing from three out of four mouths.

“What are you doing here? How long are you staying?”

“Are you coming back for good?”

“Now, now, girls,” said the older woman in the red blouse. “Let’s not overwhelm him in his first few minutes back. Especially since I think Kendal has been doing a little of that already.”

She gave Kendal a knowing look and a slight smile.

Kendal replied with an unabashed shrug. “I said what I needed to say.”

The woman in red, her feet concealed beneath a wine-dark floor-length skirt, glided through the others, who made way for her, until she was standing in front of Jaune, looking up at him. “You’ve gotten taller.”

Jaune blinked. “I have? I mean, I … I have.”

The woman in red nodded, before she enfolded him in a hug. “Welcome home, Jaune. We’ve missed you.”

Jaune put his arms around her and rested his head upon her shoulder.

Pyrrha smiled, as did the Arc sisters, the girl in violet especially. Even Kendal was smiling, although after a moment, she coughed into one hand and gestured at Pyrrha with her thumb. “Like I said: two extra places for dinner.”

The woman in red opened her eyes and noticed Pyrrha. “Oh, please forgive me for not noticing that we have a guest.”

“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Arc,” Pyrrha said, as she bowed her head respectfully.

She was greeted with an absolute silence, broken only by the sound of someone sniggering.

As the silence continued, Pyrrha began to wonder if she hadn’t made some kind of faux pas.

“Um, Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “This isn’t my mother. This my eldest sister, Rouge.”

Pyrrha’s face snapped up, even as she could feel it starting to burn bright red. “I’m so sorry; I should never have—”

“That’s quite all right,” Rouge said, with laughter ringing in her voice. “I am the eldest by quite a way; you’re not the first to get the wrong idea. And I am technically a Mrs. Arc, even if I’m not the Mrs. Arc of the house, so you weren’t even wholly wrong. Besides, I sometimes feel as though I’m more of a mother than a sister to these monkeys.”

“Offensive to monkeys, don’t you think?” Kendal asked.

Rouge gave a ‘you see what I mean’ look as she held out her hand towards Pyrrha. “Rouge Mead Arc. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss—?”

“Pyrrha,” Pyrrha said, as she took Rouge’s outstretched hand. “Pyrrha Nikos.”

Rouge’s smile was soft, gentle and inviting. “And what brings you to our home, Miss Nikos?”

“Jaune’s got a girlfriend,” Kendal said in a sing-song voice.

The girl in violet gasped. “A girlfriend? Seriously?”

“You’re the redhead in the picture!” yelled one of the other girls, wearing a blue tank-top and her hair tied back in a ponytail with an equally blue ribbon. “I won! I totally called it!”

“Why don’t you say it louder,” said the one wearing a tan vest over a burnt orange top. “I don’t think we’ve scared her enough yet.”

“And these are some of my other sisters,” Jaune said, sounding as though his entire life was a river of unending suffering. “Violet, River, and Saphron.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Pyrrha said. River was the one in blue with the ponytail, also the one who had correctly identified Pyrrha as Jaune’s girlfriend over Sunset, Ruby, or Blake; Saphron looked like a younger version of Rouge, with the same haircut of just-below-the-shoulder length, except that she was more informally dressed with a tan vest over an orange top, and pants and boots instead of an A-line skirt; Violet was the one with the sandy hair and dressed from head to toe in the colour of her name, whose eyes narrowed as she stared at Pyrrha like a bad smell.

“Have we met before?” River asked.

Pyrrha blinked. “I don’t believe so, no.”

“When would you have met her before?” Kendal demanded. “You have literally never left home in your entire life.”

“Don’t say it like that’s a bad thing,” River replied. “I just know that I’ve seen her before, we all have.”

“On the picture that Jaune sent home,” Kendal pointed out.

“No! Before that! I kept telling you, ever since Mom put that picture up on the wall, I’ve seen her before.”

Pyrrha held her peace. If they hadn’t worked it out, she wasn’t going to enlighten them. In this place, in this company, she didn’t wish to be the Pumpkin Pete’s mascot or the Invincible Girl or the Princess Without a Crown or anything else. She only wished to be Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune’s girlfriend.

Thankfully, Jaune seemed to recognise that fact and kept quiet too, for which she was very grateful.

“Anyway,” Saphron said. “You could also call me Mrs. Arc, Mrs. Cotta-Arc, if you really wanted to, although Saphron will do just fine. If you need any help with anything, just ask me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Pyrrha said.

Saphron shrugged. “I’ve had to show one newcomer around the family already, so I’ve had more practice than anyone else. So, you’re a huntress?”

“In training, yes,” Pyrrha said.

“I can’t say you’ll be universally popular,” Saphron said. “But you have my respect and my thanks for taking care of my brother.”

“We take care of one another,” Pyrrha replied, but even as she said it, she didn’t miss the awkward looks on the faces of River and Rouge — Violet’s expression remained overtly hostile — as though they didn’t agree with Saphron’s sentiment but were too bound by manners to actually say so. She remembered what Jaune had said about the people in this town and their general attitude of dismissive low regard towards huntsmen.

Nobody here would have even believed that I, or anybody else for that matter, needed to do it.

Nobody including his own sisters?

Violet folded her arms. “Is she really your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Jaune said.

“Really?”

“Yes, is that so hard to believe?”

“Hmph,” Violet said. “I don’t like her.”

“Violet!” Rouge snapped. “There’s no call to be rude.”

Pyrrha didn’t know what to say. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else either, until someone else walked down the stairs and into the room from the other side. This newcomer was most definitely not an Arc; not only did she lack the blue eyes shared amongst the other sisters, but her skin was dark instead of fair, and her hair was black as coal; she was dressed in a light blue jacket over a dark blue top, and she wore a pair of spectacles with red frames resting on the tip of her nose.

“I hate to complain,” she said, “but all of this yelling makes it hard to get Adrian to sleep.”

Saphron winced. “He’s not upset, is he?”

“No,” the other woman said, “but he might be if you don’t all calm down. Oh, hey, Jaune, I didn’t realise you were here.”

“He just got back,” Saphron explained. “Hence all the yelling.”

“Ah, I see,” the other woman said, as she walked towards them. She glanced at Pyrrha. “Pyrrha Nikos?”

Pyrrha winced. “Yes, I have that honour.”

“Terra Cotta-Arc,” Terra said. “I’m Saphron’s wife.”

“I’m Jaune’s girlfriend,” Pyrrha said.

“Ah, I thought it must be something like that,” Terra said, as she shook Pyrrha’s hand. She whispered, “Get out now, while you still can.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Your accent … Argus?”

“Very good, most people can’t recognise it. But I suppose you spent enough time there at Sanctum Academy.”

“Enough to recognise what Argive sounds like; not Atlesian or Mistralian, but a kind of mixture of the two.”

“Do you know her?” Violet demanded.

“Do we know her?” asked River.

“How come I don’t know her?” inquired Saphron.

“Only by reputation, apparently not, and because you haven’t assimilated into Mistralian culture enough,” Terra replied, pointing to Violet, River, and Saphron in turn. “Pyrrha is the champion of Mistral and graduated top of her class from Sanctum Academy.” She didn’t mention Pumpkin Pete, or indeed the crown that Pyrrha was without, but merely smiled. “The howls of outrage when she decided to go to Beacon instead of Haven shook the walls of Argus.”

“I think that’s a little bit of an exaggeration,” Pyrrha said.

Terra shrugged. “If column inches in the editorials could talk…”

“I suppose they care about such things in places like Argus,” Violet declared airily.

“Vi, don’t,” Kendal said sharply.

“Don’t what?” Violet demanded.

“Don’t talk out of your—”

“Both of you, stop it,” Rouge said firmly. “You’ll embarrass the family in front of Terra and Pyrrha.”

She really did seem more like their mother than another sister, Pyrrha reflected as she noted the way in which Violet and Kendal both obeyed her, both falling into cowed silence and refusing to meet one another’s gaze. The room settled once more into an awkward silence.

Why do I feel as though my being here has caused more harm to Jaune than good so far?

“So,” Jaune said. “Uh, Rouge … how’s Ruben? Where’s Ruben, for that matter?”

“What is Ruben?” River murmured.

Rouge glanced at River for a moment before her eyes flickered back to her brother. “He’s … fine,” she said softly. “We are … both of us are fine. He’s out back, chopping some wood for the fire.”

“Not that he’d help set the table anyway,” Kendal muttered.

“It isn’t man’s work,” Rouge said, with a touch of reproach in her voice.

“Say men who don’t want to do the work,” Kendal replied.

“Leave your outside ideas in the outside, where they belong,” Rouge declared. “Don’t bring them into this house.”

“Anyway,” Jaune said loudly, “where are Sky and Aoko?”

“Aoko has a deadline to meet, so she gets a pass on helping set the table,” Rouge said. “Sky—”

“Is going to kill you,” River said.

“She’s upset, huh?” Jaune asked nervously.

“She is actually going to kill you,” River said. “Or at least throw you in prison.”

“Why would she—?”

“JAUNE ARC!”

“Here we go,” River muttered.

Another Arc sister had appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing a blue shirt with the collar undone and a pair of dark trousers; her hair was cut just above the shoulder, and she was wearing a law enforcement badge on her left breast.

“Sky—” Jaune began.

“I ought to put you under arrest right now,” Sky declared as she strode towards him.

“Arrest me for what?” Jaune cried.

“Grand larceny of a priceless antique, for starters,” Sky said. “Did you at least bring the sword back?”

“Well, uh … kinda,” Jaune mumbled.

“What do you mean, 'kinda'?” Rouge asked, putting one hand on her hip.

“It, uh … it got a little … broken,” Jaune admitted, looking down at his shoes.

“Destruction of property!”

“Give it a rest, Sky,” River sighed. “And just admit that you’re happy to see Jaune, and then admit that I’m awesome because Pyrrha here is Jaune’s girlfriend, just like I said, hah!”

Sky turned a glare on Pyrrha. “Pyrrha, huh?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Pyrrha said, holding out one hand.

Sky didn’t take it. In fact, she looked at Pyrrha’s hand as though it was filthy. “So … you’re one of Jaune’s teammates as well as his girlfriend? You’re a huntress?”

“A big shot huntress, by the sound of it,” Saphron added.

“That is correct,” Pyrrha murmured. “I mean I am Jaune’s teammate, his partner … in every sense. And I am a huntress at Beacon Academy. I’m not sure that … Terra praises me beyond my desert.”

“Hmm,” Sky murmured wordlessly as she advanced on Pyrrha. She came so close to her that their faces were practically touching. Sky seemed to be examining her from all angles. “Well, you may be a huntress, but I’m the sheriff in this town, so don’t go causing any trouble, okay?”

“I have no intention of causing any trouble at all,” Pyrrha said, wondering what it was that she thought a huntress did that she needed to issue such a warning.

“You did that when—”

“Violet,” Kendal growled.

Sky nodded curtly, before rounding on her brother once again. “A note? Really?”

Jaune wilted visibly under the gaze of so many sisters. “I wasn’t sure that you’d let me go if I told you what I was planning.”

“We wouldn’t,” Rouge said with absolute honesty. “But that’s not an excuse for going behind our backs about it.” She smiled. “But at least you’re back now.”

“And you’re never going away again, right?” Violet said, closing the distance between the two of them to grip tightly onto his right arm.

“I don’t think that’s the plan,” Saphron said. “Right, Jaune?”

“No,” Jaune admitted. “I’m only here for—”

“Jaune? Is that you?”

The woman who had now appeared through a door that, from the brief glimpse that Pyrrha had of it before it swung shut, led into the kitchen, was almost certainly Jaune’s mother; she was obviously middle-aged, plump with lines appearing on her face; she had Violet’s sandy hair rather than the gold hair of most of her daughters, and streaks of grey appeared here and there upon her locks. A ring sat upon her finger: a decorated band of gold, too far away for Pyrrha to make out the exact nature of the decoration, with a glittering emerald set upon it.

Her eyes were as blue as any other Arc's, however, and they appeared to be welling up with tears.

Just as they had made way for Rouge, so now all the girls, including Rouge, made way for her.

“Hey, Mom,” Jaune said.

“You came,” Mrs. Arc said. “Just like I asked.

“Just like you asked,” Jaune said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He bent down to allow his mother to plant a flurry of kisses on his cheeks, and nobody dared snigger or smirk while it happened.

“My baby boy,” Mrs Arc said. “You came back. You came back to me.”

Jaune smiled. “Mom, there’s someone very special that I’d like you to meet.” He turned towards Pyrrha, gesturing towards her with one hand. “This is Pyrrha: my teammate, my partner … and my girlfriend.”

Pyrrha bowed from the waist, bending down forty-five degrees, gripping the edges of her skirt with her hands and pulling it out on either side of her. “It’s an honour to meet you, Mrs. Arc. Pyrrha Nikos, at your service.”

“Oh, please dear there’s no need to stand on ceremony around here,” Mrs. Arc said. “And no need to call me 'Mrs. Arc' either; 'Ma’am' will do just fine. So you’ve come all the way from Beacon with Jaune?”

“I have, ma’am, yes,” Pyrrha said.

“Then I guess we’ll need two more places at the table,” Mrs. Arc said. “Rouge, will you arrange that?”

“Of course, Mom,” Rouge said.

“Jaune, I still have a few things to finish off in the kitchen before your father gets home; will you come and give me a hand?”

“Uh, really?” Jaune said. “But, uh—”

“I’m sure that Pyrrha can manage without you for a little while, and we have so much to catch up on,” Mrs. Arc said.

Pyrrha gave Jaune a smile and a nod to indicate that she would indeed be fine, even though Violet was looking at her like a lioness that had wandered into a herd of gazelle, and Sky was actively sizing her up.

Nevertheless, Jaune looked reassured as he followed his mother into the kitchen, which was the main thing. They did have a lot to catch up on, after all, and Pyrrha wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. This was, after all, Jaune’s family and Jaune’s visit. She was just here to support him.

She wished that she had a way of making the more hostile of Jaune’s sisters understand that.

Violet continued to glare at her. River looked apologetic while Sky seemed suspicious. Rouge’s look was guarded, while only Saphron and Kendal seemed truly friendly in the way they looked at her.

Rouge turned to her sisters. “Anyway, as we’ve been told, we need to add two places to the table, so Kendal, if you’ll give me a hand.”

“If there’s anything I can do—?” Pyrrha ventured.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Rouge said, as though the idea were ridiculous. “You’re our guest; just relax and let us take care of you.”

“If you don’t need me—” Sky began.

“Who said I didn’t need you?” Rouge asked.

“If you don’t need me,” Sky repeated, putting additional emphasis on her words, “I’ll keep Pyrrha company while you’re finishing up.”

Rouge looked at her, and some unspoken words seemed to pass between the two of them. “Very well, that sounds like an excellent idea.”

“Great!” Sky said jovially. “Pyrrha, if you’d like to come with me?” She gestured towards the hall from which Pyrrha had first entered the dining room.

Pyrrha didn’t know exactly what Sky wanted to talk about, but she couldn’t help a slight feeling of a trap here. It sounded absurd, put like that; this was Jaune’s family, after all, not some pack of bandits in the wilds of Mistral.

Nevertheless, that feeling was with her.

And yet, because this was Jaune’s family, she smiled all the same and said, “Of course, lead the way.”

“I will,” Sky said as she led Pyrrha out of the dining room, into the hall through which Kendal had first dragged Jaune, and then out onto the porch. The sun was beginning to set by now, and the air was starting to cool. The breeze was chilly on Pyrrha’s face as she and Sky Arc stood under the porch and the sky began to darken around them.

Sky leaned on the wooden railing separating the wooden porch from the garden.

Pyrrha hesitated, waiting somewhat awkwardly for Sky to say something. She presumed that Sky wanted to say something, but Jaune’s sister seemed reticent to actually say it. So Pyrrha reached for some small talk to fill up the time.

“This is a beautiful town that you have here.”

“It’s a nice town,” Sky said. “With nice people in it. People like Jaune, before he got taken away.”

“Nobody took your brother away,” Pyrrha replied.

“Sure they did,” Sky replied, still not looking at Pyrrha. “Those comic books that Mom and Dad shouldn’t have let him read, the stories about great-grandpa that people shouldn’t have told him. Dreams of glory and adventure in far away places. They took Jaune away.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dreams,” Pyrrha said. “Sometimes, they can inspire us to be better people.”

Sky didn’t respond to that. She still didn’t turn away from where she leaned upon the porch rail. “My dad was a huntsman once.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said.

“But he gave it up,” Sky said. “To raise a family, to live here, in the town that our family established, here where our roots are. He realised that family and belonging were more important than gallivanting around the world. He tried to teach his children that.”

“What Jaune does is important,” Pyrrha insisted. “Very important. For some people, I’d even say that it’s vital.”

“Why?”

“Because not everywhere is as lucky as this town when it comes to not seeing a grimm in years,” Pyrrha said, and she couldn’t help but let a touch of coldness into her voice. “Do you think that the creatures of grimm are a myth just because you’ve never seen one?”

Sky snorted. “Can I call you Pyrrha or do you prefer Miss Nikos?”

“Pyrrha is fine,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Have you ever killed anybody Pyrrha?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. At least, not to my knowledge.

Sky’s voice was quiet. “Has Jaune ever killed anyone?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid so.”

Sky stared at her for a moment in mute astonishment, before she turned and punched the railing beneath her.

“I wasn’t happy about it either,” Pyrrha said, as she recalled her mortification at what Jaune had been forced to do because she had abandoned him. “I’m sorry, I should have taken better care of him—”

“Jaune doesn’t need you to take care of him; he has us, his family,” Sky snapped. “And don’t you dare say anything like ‘I’m his family’ or ‘his team is his family’ because you’re not; you’re just the people he works with in a job he shouldn’t have!”

Pyrrha said nothing. She could not find it in herself to be angry at Sky, as much as Sky was plainly furious with her. Her wrath came out of love, and Pyrrha could not censure her for that. She thought that Sky was wrong, but she wasn’t going to argue the point with her in her own home.

Sky took a deep breath. “I’ve been sheriff of this town for two and a half years, ever since Sheriff Pearl decided to retire. In that time, I’ve never even had to draw my gun, let alone shoot it. And my baby brother is a killer.”

“There’s a difference between murder and defending yourself in battle,” Pyrrha said.

“He shouldn’t have been in a position where he had to defend himself,” Sky said. “This is a nice town, a peaceful town; maybe some other places have to send their kids off to fight monsters, but not us, not here. Jaune should be throwing up after drinking too much at the harvest dance, not getting into situations where it’s kill or be killed.”

“And what about those other places?” Pyrrha asked, trying to keep her tone courteous even as it firmed up. “People are alive today who wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Jaune; are you willing to condemn them to death just so that he can be safe? Have you even considered that this is what Jaune has chosen to do with his life?”

“Don’t talk to me like you know Jaune better than I do,” Sky said. “You’ve known him for months; I’ve known him for his whole life.”

And yet, you don’t seem to have any respect for him to make his own decisions, Pyrrha thought, but bit her tongue in saying it because it would have made an ill guest of her to actually give voice to it. She remembered what Jaune had said about people who had known him as a child only seeing him as a child; apparently, it had affected his family, even if he hadn’t been explicitly referring to them.

“I know that Jaune is a good man and a good huntsman,” Pyrrha said. “I know that, in time, he could be great, if he continues to work hard and believe in himself. And I know that he has done a lot of good in the world, and will do so much more good in the world.”

She hesitated over saying more, but she felt that even though it might verge upon rudeness it had to be said nevertheless. “More good than he would do here, as nice a place as this seems to be.”

Sky’s jaw tightened with anger, but she appeared to master it with a force of will.

“Saphron said that you were some kind of big deal. Is that right?”

“I … have a certain reputation, in some quarters,” Pyrrha said quietly.

Sky snorted. “Well, that may be at Beacon, in Vale, out there; maybe people hang upon your every word and whatever you say goes, but if you thought that you could waltz in here—”

“That isn’t why I’m here,” Pyrrha said.

“Then why are you here?” Sky demanded.

“Because Jaune invited me to meet his family,” Pyrrha declared, and however ill-advised it might have been, she could not help but add, “to have someone here who is on his side.”

A growl of wordless anger escaped from Sky’s throat. She took a deep breath. “This,” she said, “is our town. An Arc founded this town; in this town, we are the big deal, so I am going to give you fair warning: Jaune is going to be staying here with his family, and you are going to be heading back to Beacon by yourself.” She turned away, approaching the door with one last disdainful look in Pyrrha’s direction. “So don’t bother to unpack.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Not at lot has really changed in this chapter, because I quite liked it at the time and I like it now as well, just a few minor touch-ups here and there.

Arc Talk (Rewritten)

Arc Talk

Pyrrha was not concerned.

Sky Arc had gone back inside the house, somewhat rudely leaving Pyrrha alone on the porch, free to come in or not as she wished. It would have been more polite to have waited with her, but Sky had made it clear that she didn’t enjoy spending time in Pyrrha’s company, and Pyrrha had no desire to enforce any more contact between them than was necessary.

Besides, alone with the setting sun as she now was, she would not have to pretend to take Sky’s threat very seriously.

She wasn’t worried. Assuming, as seemed likely, that what Sky was talking about wasn’t some sort of attempt to kidnap Jaune — which would be very unwise even if Pyrrha hadn’t been there, and would be downright foolish since she was — then she probably had in mind some attempt to browbeat him into leaving Beacon and bidding Pyrrha farewell — and good riddance too, if Sky had anything to say on the subject. Perhaps they would even have him tell her that he had decided to stay home, since this visit had made him realise what he had been missing.

If that was what they thought was going to happen, then, in many respects, it proved Jaune’s point that he would forever be a child in their eyes. The pressure that a group of disapproving sisters could bring to bear might have had some effect on the young Jaune that Pyrrha had never known; it might even have had some effect on the Jaune that she had first met during the early days at Beacon. But Sky was wrong to say that she knew Jaune better than Pyrrha did on the basis of greater longevity of acquaintance: Sky might have known him longer, but Pyrrha had known him more recently, and she had watched him grow up into a fine young man, a man to love, a man who wouldn’t turn his back on her and on his comrades and on the battle to which he had pledged himself.

Though the battle be an impossible one, Jaune was committed to it and to the team and, she thought, to her. The idea that he would simply walk away after all he knew and all that they had been through together … she would have scoffed if it would not have been impolite to do so — and if it were not for the fact that this was still Jaune’s sister, and Pyrrha had not wholly given up hope of leaving the family with a favourable impression of her.

She was not concerned. She knew Jaune Arc; by now, she dared to think she knew him better than his family did.

She felt a little pity for the fact that Sky was doomed to be so greatly disappointed and to be forced to confront the fact that her little brother had changed without her realising it.

Mostly, however, she felt angry.

It was that anger that had nearly led her to break the wooden railing from gripping it too hard. Not anger at her own treatment — after a lifetime of being feted, elevated, put on a pedestal, she was probably about due for some scorn and dismissal; in other circumstances, she might have found it refreshing — but anger on behalf of Jaune.

These people claimed to love him; perhaps by their own lights, they did love him, but it was clear that their idea of loving him did not involve asking him what he thought or wanted, respecting the fact that he had chosen the destiny he wished to work towards, understanding the fact that although this might not be what they had wanted for him, it was what he wanted for himself. Rather, he was, like a child, to be governed for his own good by those who were wiser than he was and knew better.

Why can’t they see that we know what’s best for ourselves? Pyrrha thought, and she was not only thinking about Jaune’s family.

“Are you okay out here?”

Pyrrha looked towards the door. Terra stood in the doorway, half in the house and half out of it, her spectacles slipping ever so slightly down her nose before she pushed them back up again.

Pyrrha straightened up. “Hello again. I don’t suppose I’m needed inside.”

“No,” Terra said. “But neither am I. Being a guest here can mean getting a lot done for you, but it leaves you at a loose end when everyone’s working.” She smiled. “Worth it for the results of Mrs. Arc’s cooking, though, as you are about to discover … unless you planned to slip away.”

Pyrrha smiled thinly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“As much as some people might want you to,” Terra said.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “How did you—?”

“It wasn’t always a smooth ride for me, at first,” Terra said, as she stepped out onto the porch. “Not everyone approved of Saphron moving to Argus, and they certainly didn’t like it when she brought me back home with her for a visit.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pyrrha said softly.

“It didn’t last,” Terra said easily. “Once I gave birth to Adrian, the first grandchild in the family, I became untouchable.”

“How did you bear it until then?” Pyrrha asked.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Terra replied. “We weren’t here very often, and when we were… it wasn’t the whole family. It was… the divide in this family is between those who are aware that there’s an outside world beyond the confines of this village and those who don’t, or who would rather pretend that they don’t. One side was a lot more welcoming than the other.” She came to stand beside Pyrrha at the railing. “For me, Saphron was worth it; only you can decide if Jaune’s worth it to you.”

It suddenly occurred to Pyrrha that Terra, finding her standing so pensively out here all by herself, must have thought that she was pondering ditching Jaune in the face of the hostility of some of the other Arcs. “Um, no, I wasn’t… I mean he is, but that… I wasn’t actually thinking about that.”

Terra was silent for a moment. “Oh. I’m sorry; I just assumed—”

“I understand,” Pyrrha said. “I can see how it must have looked. I was just… I was thinking about what Sky said.”

“They want to take him away from you,” Terra said.

Pyrrha looked at her. “How do you know?”

“Because they’re talking about it in the dining room, and not being anything like as quiet as they think they are,” Terra said. “Saphron is trying to talk them out of it, and Kendal looks about ready to scream. That’s, uh, that’s another reason why I came out here. If there’s a big blowout argument, I’d rather not get caught up in it.”

“I understand,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Are you worried?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “Do you think I should be?”

Terra shrugged. “I only met Jaune a couple of times. I can’t say I was that impressed. Are you sure that he won’t fold?”

Pyrrha nodded. “He’s grown a lot since you saw him last.”

“I suppose so. I never would have seen him as a huntsman,” Terra said. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, bringing up your reputation. You … didn’t exactly seem pleased.”

“It’s…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “It’s not your fault.”

“I’m the one who said it,” Terra pointed out.

“Yes, but you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” Pyrrha pointed. “My accomplishments…” She trailed off.

“Not something you're proud of?” Terra guessed.

“Not exactly,” Pyrrha murmured. “I am proud of my skill, if that doesn’t sound too vain, for I worked to attain it. I wasn’t born a champion; my name did not make me top of my class. I worked, I trained, I studied. Those glories, my victory laurels and my spoils, I earned. Of those, I feel I have the right to be proud. It is what came with them that I enjoy less, the pedestal…” She smiled. “I suppose that won’t be a problem here, at least.”

Terra chuckled. “Wait until River realises that you’re the one on the front of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes.”

“If she does,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune didn’t recognise me until it was pointed out to him.”

“I can take a hint; they won’t hear it from me,” Terra assured her.

“I feel as though I ought to thank you,” Pyrrha told her, “for not mentioning everything about my reputation.”

“I’m an Argive, remember?” Terra said. “The princess stuff doesn’t carry the weight there that it does in Mistral; your accomplishments count for more than your birth.”

Pyrrha nodded. She recalled that from her time at Sanctum. It had been refreshing at first, not to be the Princess Without a Crown or the Evenstar of Mistral. Of course, it hadn’t taken her very long to become the Invincible Girl, and that had been just as bad in its own way.

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks.”

Terra offered a mock bow. “Any way I can be of service to the Champion.”

“Please don’t,” Pyrrha said, raising one hand in a halt gesture.

Terra smiled. “I’ll try and keep it toned down in there, but you have to allow me a little bit of starstruck enthusiasm. When I saw you, standing in my in-laws’ dining room … I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out your name. You know, I saw you win your first championship. I won a ticket and an all-expenses-paid trip to Mistral in a raffle. Despite your impressive record of wins to reach the final, nobody believed a thirteen-year-old kid was going to take the laurels.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Including you?”

“Oh, I thought you were going to get crushed, but I was rooting for you anyway,” Terra replied. “And the money I made betting on you paid for our wedding, so thank you for that.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I’m glad that I could be of service.”

That first year, when she was a newcomer to the adult league, was probably the only time that Terra or anyone else could have made money betting on her to win anything. The odds in her favour had shortened considerably in subsequent years.

“I meant what I said in there, you know,” Terra added. “Nobody wanted to see you leave.”

“That is one of the reasons why I had to leave,” Pyrrha said softly. Then it occurred to her that in Alba Longa, she had finally found a place where her reputation carried no weight whatsoever … and everybody hated her. The irony of it made her laugh internally. Is this what they mean by 'be careful what you wish for'?

“Hey, you two,” Saphron said as she appeared in the doorway. “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” Terra said. “I was just making sure your other guest didn’t feel neglected.

Saphron winced. “Sorry about that; things are just a little… anyway, we’re almost ready for dinner, so if you’d both like to come back inside? Ruben and Chester are back, so you can meet the other in-laws.”

“Good luck,” Terra muttered, leaving Pyrrha to wonder just what fresh encounters might be in store for her inside the house.

The kitchen door flapped shut behind Jaune as he stepped into a room that seemed narrow due to the great abundance of equipment taking up space within it: three towering dual ovens, each one ridiculously large; two freezers and two refrigerators to match; microwaves; hobs; hotplates; kettles on work surfaces; an enormous sink; everything to supply the dietary needs of a family of nine plus a — hopefully — expanding number of in-laws and grandchildren and possible guests without panic, rush, or incident.

It hadn’t changed since he went away. The tiles were still cracked in that place in the corner just where he remembered; the tiles themselves were the same marigold shade that he remembered; everything was exactly the same to his eyes, and his nose was assailed by such wonderfully familiar smells that, for a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, with grimm and Salem and Beacon Academy all forgotten as he was a five-year-old with his hair in pigtails once again, fleeing into the kitchen to escape the over-eager attentions of his sisters and find shelter with his mother.

He had resisted learning how to cook, at first; his father couldn’t even boil an egg, so clearly, cooking wasn’t something that real men did, and it was bad enough that his sisters had roped him into dancing as part of the Arc Family Dancers. He had been adamant that he wasn’t going to do any more girly things than he had to. And yet, after many happy hours dipping his fingers into pots and pans and sneaking tastes when his mother wasn’t looking, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had wanted to know, he had had to know how his mother managed to create so many delicious tastes and flavours.

And so he had accepted that he would be forever known for his unmanly interests and learned to cook — and a good thing too; just think how many chances to impress Pyrrha he would have missed out on otherwise?

He sniffed the air. “Fried chicken?”

“My special recipe,” Mom said cheerily. “Along with jacket potatoes—”

“And all the fillings?” Jaune asked eagerly.

“Of course,” Mom said, as if the idea that she would serve anything less was inherently ridiculous. “Cheese, cheese with broccoli, cheese with bacon, beans, tuna with and without mayo, and of course my famous beef chilli.”

Jaune could see the famous beef chilli boiling in a huge cast iron pot on one of the hobs nearby, and just as he had when he was a child, he started to move his hand in that direction.

Mom whacked him on the knuckles with a ladle. “Not until you’ve washed your hands.”

Jaune smiled sheepishly. “Sure thing, Mom.” He squeezed past her in the direction of the sink.

His mother chuckled. “It’s so good to have you back, sweetie.”

Jaune turned on the tap, and waited for the water to start to heat up. “It’s good to see you too, Mom.” He fell silent as the water heated and he ran his hands beneath it. “Listen, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you worry, but I did and—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Mom said. “You’re home, and everything else is in the past now. You’re back where you belong, and that’s all that really matters.”

Jaune blinked. Something about the way that his mother had said that was making his thumbs prick just a little. “Mom … you know I’m only here for Dad’s birthday party, right? You asked me to come back, and so I did—”

“Yes,” Mom said. “You did. And now you’re here; you came back, and everything can be just the way it was. Why would you want to spoil that by running away again?”

“Because I was miserable the way things were,” Jaune said as he turned to face his mother. “I mean … when I called, you said that you understood. You said that you were happy that I’d found somewhere to belong. You put that picture I sent you up on the wall.”

“Of course I did,” Mom said. “I put all the pictures of my babies up on the wall so that everyone can see all the wonderful things that they’ve done. And I’m glad that you made it to that place that you wanted to go, and I’m glad that you were happy when you got there … but even though it was years ago, I still remember what it was like when your father went out on missions as though it were yesterday. I remember how nervous I was; every knock on the front door would make me near hysterical because I was sure it was someone from Beacon coming with the news that Gold had managed to get himself killed in some far-off field somewhere. I don’t want to go through that again with my only boy. What Kendal does is bad enough; I can barely stand it when she’s not here. Please, Jaune, don’t make me go through that again.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed as he looked down on her. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured. “But I can’t just quit and come home.”

“Why not?”

“Because my team needs me.”

“Oh, I’m sure that they can manage without you.”

“Mom!” Jaune squawked, sounding more indignant than he had intended because didn’t she get it? Didn’t she get that this was exactly the point? “Stuff like that is why I left home in the first place!”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like the fact that nobody in this house ever believed in me at all,” Jaune said. “You, Dad, everyone treated me like I was about as much use as a sack of potatoes, like I was such an idiot that it was a miracle I didn’t trip over my own feet, like I was … like you were all going to have to spend the rest of your lives taking care of me, because there was no way that I could ever amount to anything by myself.”

They had been kind about it, for the most part — although sometimes, he would look into his father’s eyes and see such unalloyed disappointment there — but all the kindness in the world couldn’t alleviate the shame of knowing that they thought him so completely incapable even of functioning by himself.

“That was why I left,” Jaune said. “I wanted to show that I could make it, even though nobody thought I could.”

He turned away, and so, he couldn’t see the look on his mother’s face as she said, “There’s nothing wrong with other people wanting to take care of you.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “But my friends … we take care of one another. They believe in me in ways that nobody in this house ever … You say that it was bad waiting for Dad, not knowing if he was going to be okay or not. Well … if I let Pyrrha go back to Beacon without me, then I know that I’d just spend every single day wondering where they were, what was happening to them, what dangerous mission they were on without me; and if…” He swallowed, because this was almost too terrible to contemplate. “And if anything happened to Pyrrha or Ruby or Sunset when I wasn’t around … because I wasn’t around, then … I don’t know if I could live with myself afterwards. I can’t leave them. I can’t leave her.”

“They’re not your family, Jaune,” Mom said. “We’re your family: all of us, here.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “But they’re where I belong. Beacon is where I belong.”

“You belong here with us,” Mom said.

“Doing what?” Jaune asked of her, looking at her once again. “What am I supposed to do once I’ve broken Pyrrha’s heart and broken my word to my friends? What am I supposed to do all day once I’ve proved that I don’t deserve to be trusted?”

Mom was silent for a moment. “Miranda Wells saw sense and came home,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Jaune murmured. “After what happened in Vale—”

“Yes,” Mom replied. “What happened in Vale. Not many people talk about it, of course, but Marian Wells and I got to talking, and she explained that poor Miranda … she has nightmares, the poor dear. About those awful monsters.”

Jaune closed his eyes for a moment. “I can imagine,” he said softly.

“You should go and talk to her,” Mom suggested.

Jaune nodded. “That … I don’t know … there’s nothing that I can do to help, but I’ll go and see her anyway.” It might not help, but it was the right thing to do regardless.

“She’s very pretty,” Mom added. “And you two were always so close growing up. Marian and I often thought that maybe—”

“Mom, I don’t think that Miranda’s going to be in the mood right now,” Jaune said. “This isn’t really the time or the place. And besides, even if that wasn’t true, I already have a girlfriend; I don’t need you to set me up.”

“She’s an outsider and a huntress; do you think she’ll ever belong here?”

“I don’t belong here,” Jaune said.

“Yes, you do,” Mom said. “But that girl, Pyrrha was it? I know she’s terribly pretty—”

“She’s not just pretty; she’s beautiful,” Jaune said. “And more than beautiful, she’s … she’s brave and kind and noble and selfless … she helped me when she didn’t have to, even after I’d given her every reason not to, just because I needed the help. She never asked for anything in return.

“She isn’t scared of anything, and when I see that, it makes it easier for me to be brave too; she was the first person at Beacon, the first person ever to really believe that I could do this, that I could make something of myself.” He sighed. “When she’s upset, there isn’t anything that I want more than to make her happy again, and when she smiles, the way her eyes light up … Pyrrha isn’t just beautiful; she’s one in a million.” He smiled. “I love her, Mom.”

He had hoped … he wasn’t exactly sure what he had hoped for? That she’d tear up and give him a big hug? That she’d tell him how happy she was for him that he’d found the one? That she’d give him some tips on how to treat Pyrrha as she deserved?

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d hoped for, but he’d hoped for better from her than to hear her say, “I’m sure you think that, honey, but after you’ve been apart for a few weeks—”

“We’re not going to be apart for a few weeks; I’m going back to Beacon,” Jaune said firmly. “Mom, stop. If you don’t stop then… then I’ll go.”

His mother’s eyes widened. “You’ll go? You mean now?”

“Yes,” Jaune said, even though his mouth was still watering from the succulent smells of the kitchen. He didn’t want to say this, but he felt as though he wasn’t being left with very much choice. “I’m not a farmer, and I’m not a baby, and I’m not the same kid who ran away from home. I’m a student of Beacon Academy and a huntsman of Vale, and that’s what I want to be. And if you can’t accept that … I’m not going to stay here while you tell me how wrong I am and try to break up Pyrrha and me to set me up with a nice local girl. I don’t want to go, Mom, but I will.”

Mom stared at him. “Are you really happier at that school than you would be here, with us?”

“Yes,” Jaune said with simple finality.

It sounded strange, borderline absurd really, to think that he was happier at the school being trained to fight monsters; where he had been told that all of the monsters were being directed by an immortal mistress of the monsters who could never be stopped, only delayed; where magic was real and the boundaries of what he had thought were possible were daily being rolled backwards before his eyes, even as the danger and the risk daily increased also. It seemed ridiculous that he should be happier there than he was in the peaceful town where nothing ever changed from day to day, but … but it was true.

He was a part of something at Beacon, a part of something bigger than himself and his own desires; at Beacon, he was useful and needed and wanted, all words that had never been used to describe him when he lived here. At Beacon, he was nobody’s son and nobody’s kid brother; at Beacon, he was Jaune Arc.

“I love you, Mom; I love all of you … but I couldn’t ever be as happy here as I am at Beacon.”

It was clear that his mother wasn’t happy with that answer, but it was also clear that she didn’t take his warning as an idle threat. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured. “I won’t say anything more about it, but … I’m afraid I really can’t say the same for your father or sisters.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured, the word dying as it left his mouth, until it was left to crawl its way past his lips. He dry washed his hands for a moment as he looked around. “I don’t suppose that you need any help in here?”

“No, Jaune,” Mom said. “If you’re only going to be staying a few days, then you’re as good as a guest, so get on out of here and let me work. Why don’t you go and see if your brothers-in-law are inside yet?”

Right. His brothers-in-law. That was something to look forward to. “Okay, Mom,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strangled.

You can do this. You can do this. He had stood up to Cardin Winchester, he had faced the grimm and the White Fang, he had crossed blades with Cinder Fall, he had faced Salem herself for crying out loud; like he had anything to be afraid of from Rueben or Chester.

Of course, Cardin and Cinder and Salem hadn’t been married to his older sisters.

Nevertheless, he could do this. He had handled way worse than this since leaving home. He wasn’t the same kid anymore. He had found himself, he had grown up, and he was not going to let them push him around!

Those were Jaune’s thoughts as he pushed open the door into the kitchen and stepped out.

Ruben and Chester were already waiting for him in the dining room.

Chester Heatherfield was River’s husband, and he was standing beside her, with one arm around her waist, whispering in her ear. He was a little shorter than Jaune, about the same height as Pyrrha, with most of his brown hair concealed beneath the blue and white bandana wrapped around his head, from which only a little hair descended into view. The stubble on his cheeks had been threatening to turn into a beard when Jaune had left home, but he had shaved since then, and now, his cheeks were disconcertingly smooth — Jaune remembered that River had been complaining he was getting itchy to kiss, so maybe that had something or everything to do with it. He was wearing shorts, revealing a pair of hairy legs between there and his long dark socks. He was the town postman, and he was still wearing his blue postman’s blazer with the crest of the Royal Mail stitched onto his breast pocket.

Ruben Meade was Rouge’s husband and about the same height and build as Cardin, maybe just a little bit bigger. He had always dwarfed everyone around him as far back as Jaune could remember. He had brown hair, close-cropped to the back and sides of his head, with hazel eyes and strong, firm features. His plaid shirt stretched taut over his rippling, muscular chest, and his arms appeared on the verge of ripping through the rolled-up sleeves at any moment, as did his legs through his blue jeans.

Ruben’s father managed the farm for Dad — not that Dad didn’t do any work on the farm, but not as much as he would have had to if he hadn’t employed someone to help him with it — and since he had been married to Rouge, everyone kind of took it for granted that he was going to inherit the farm when Dad died. It was another sign that nobody thought that Jaune would be capable of taking on the responsibility, but it was not one that bothered him; he didn’t want to run the farm; he didn’t want to come back here and take over the family land. This wasn’t where he saw himself, not even in twenty or thirty years' time. If Ruben wanted it, then he was welcome to it.

Ruben was leaning against the dining room wall, some distance away from Rouge, who was still organising the laying of the table. His foot tapped impatiently upon the wooden floor.

It was Violet who saw Jaune first as he came out of the kitchen. “Jaune!” she cried.

All other pairs of eyes turned towards him.

“Jauney!” Ruben cried, peeling himself off the wall, a grin upon his solid features as he advanced upon Jaune. “Good to see you again.”

Jaune cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you again too, Ruben. Chester.”

“Jaune,” Chester said, with a nod of his head. “Heard you made it all the way to that school.”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, I did.”

Ruben laughed. “You sure you didn’t get lost on the way, spend a few months hiding somewhere before you came back?”

“No,” Jaune sighed. “No, I didn’t. I made it there just fine.”

“And they let you in?” Ruben asked. He raised his fists in front of his face. “Well, if you’ve been to that fancy fightin’ school, why don’t you show me somethin’?”

“Aw, come on, man, you can’t start a fight in here,” Chester said. “The girls are workin’ hard to set this table, and you want to go bust it up? Where are we gonna eat dinner if you do that?”

“Oh, we ain’t gonna fight; we just gonna mess around a little,” Rueben assured him.

“Ruben,” Rouge sighed. “Stop it.”

Ruben ignored her. “Come on, little Jauney,” he urged. “Show me something; put ‘em up.”

“N-no, Ruben,” Jaune said, shaking his head.

He didn’t want to mess around; he certainly didn’t want to fight. If he activated his aura, he was pretty sure that he could punch Ruben clear across the room, big guy or not, but like Chester had said, everyone had worked hard to set the table for dinner, and it would be a shame to ruin it by breaking everything.

“What’s the matter?” Ruben asked. “Aren’t you some kind of hero now? Show me what you got!”

He started lashing out with both fists, not throwing punches, but tapping Jaune on the side of the head.

Jaune squirmed, shrinking backwards, raising his hands defensively, covering his face.

Ruben laughed. “Is that what they’re teaching you at that school? How to cower like a girl?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Kendal spat. “Rouge, Sky, are you just going to let this happen?”

“Yes, and so are you,” Sky declared. “Ruben’s right; how does he expect to survive at Beacon if he can’t handle this?”

Jaune gritted his teeth. So that was it, huh? They were testing him? They wanted to prove to him that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough? This was supposed to show him that he was wrong? Well, if this was a test then he’d show them the answer.

He straightened up and activated his aura.

Ruben threw a punch, harder than the others, coming in straight for Jaune’s face.

Ruben’s face struck Jaune upon the cheek. Jaune barely felt it; while being struck by someone using aura hurt despite the lack of real injury, being hit by someone who was not using aura felt … it felt like being touched on the cheek by comparison.

Ruben on the other hand, recoiled with a cry of pain, clutching his hand. “What the—?”

“That’s what they taught me at Beacon,” Jaune said.

Silence fell in the room. Sky’s eyes were wide. A smirk pricked at the corner of Kendal’s mouth. River’s eyebrows rose into her bangs.

“Like Chester said, you shouldn’t be messing around in the dining room,” said River.

It was at that moment that Pyrrha returned with Saphron and Terra.

Pyrrha and Terra — led by Saphron, although the way down the corridor was not difficult to find — returned to the spacious dining room to find the table laid out and waiting for them. The long walnut table was covered by a pristine white tablecloth, on which had been set out fourteen places — Pyrrha recalled that Terra had mentioned something about her son getting to sleep and assumed that the child would not be joining them — with blue willow-pattern plates in a faux-Mistralian style sat upon wicker mats with cutlery set down upon either side.

In the centre of the table, Pyrrha could already see that great bowls with ladles sticking out had been set up and down the table, and an aroma of assorted smells wafted out of them to engulf the room in sensations that set Pyrrha’s mouth watering.

Jaune and his mother had obviously finished their conversation in the kitchen, because Jaune was outside with all of his sisters whom Pyrrha had so far met, along with two men whom she had not but whom she presumed to be the brothers-in-law. One of them, a man with a bandana tied around his head and wearing shorts, had his arm around River’s waist. The other, a rather large man in a plaid shirt and jeans, was clutching at his hand as though he had been stung.

He was standing quite close to Jaune, who was standing straight and with the glow around him of having activated his aura.

What was going on just now?

“Is everything okay in here?” Saphron asked.

“Everything’s fine,” Rouge said quickly. “Ruben, Chester, this is Jaune’s girlfriend, Miss Pyrrha Nikos. Pyrrha, this is my husband, Ruben, and River’s husband, Chester.”

Chester nodded his head towards her. “Pleased to meet you ma’am.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Please, sir, call me Pyrrha.”

“Reckon you can call me Chester then, Miss Pyrrha,” Chester said.

Ruben opened and closed the hand he had been clutching, as though he were trying to get the feeling back into it. “Jaune’s girlfriend, huh?” he said. He smirked. “Who would have believed it? I’m still not sure that I do.”

Pyrrha smiled thinly. “Nevertheless, it is the truth, however strange it may seem.”

“Is that right?” Ruben asked. He whistled appreciatively. “You are one lucky boy, Jauney.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jaune said, a touch of nervous laughter entering his voice.

He began to walk around the room towards her, even as Rouge looked away.

Jaune’s mother chose that very fortuitous moment to emerge out of the kitchen, carrying a tray piled high with fried chicken covered in a crispy brown coat. The smell of them only added to the delicious smells that were tugging at Pyrrha’s nostrils.

“Who's hungry?” Mrs. Arc asked cheerfully, oblivious to everything that had been going on in the dining room beforehand. “Sit down, everyone; I’m sure that Gold will be along any minute now.”

“Thanks, Mom,” River said.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Kendal added.

Everyone began to sit down: the seat at the head of the table was left open, presumably for Mister Arc himself, while the seat on the left of that was also left vacant, and Pyrrha guessed that was for Mrs. Arc once she was done bringing everything out of the kitchen; Ruben took the seat on the right-hand side of the head of the table, with Rouge sitting next to him; Saphron grabbed the seat next to the empty place left for her mother and held a chair out next to her for Terra.

Jaune caught Pyrrha’s eye as she moved towards the table, and gave her a slightly apologetic smile.

She smiled back and hoped that she was able to convey by it that she had no hard feelings about anything that had happened so far. Rather, she understood much better now why he might have wanted her to come with him in the first place.

Although, when she thought back to Sunset’s blithe assurance that of course Jaune’s family would fall in love with her, it did afford her a certain wry amusement.

If only she knew.

Not that I’ll tell her; she’d probably get quite incensed about the whole thing; I’m not sure an incandescent Sunset turning up at the door with her jacket on fire so that she looks like an avenging fury would do much good.

Hopefully, I can win some hearts and minds by the time she arrives to research Jaune’s family history, or there really will be trouble.

Pyrrha could not think that Sunset would be as restrained as she had been so far.

Jaune pulled out the chair next to him for her, or at least, she assumed it was for her since he was looking at her as he pulled it out; however, before he could actually invite her to sit in it Violet had slipped into the seat.

“Thank you, Jaune,” she chirruped.

Jaune looked at Pyrrha, who gave a slight shake of her head. No need to make an issue of it; it would be as petty as your sister’s being.

“Uh, right,” Jaune said, as he started to sit down. Violet beamed at him, before sticking her tongue out at Pyrrha, leaving Pyrrha to wonder just how old she was.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Kendal said, from the seat opposite Violet. “There’s a seat free over here.” She patted the seat opposite Jaune, across the table from him, and kept her hand there so that nobody else could take it as Pyrrha made her way over.

“Thank you, Kendal,” Pyrrha said, trying to ignore Violet’s thunderous face as she sat down opposite Jaune.

The pleasure that she felt as he reached for her hand across the table was mixed on this occasion with a frisson of satisfaction, even if that same sense of satisfaction made her feel a little ashamed of herself for how unbecoming it was.

River and Sky took seats opposite one another, respectively to the right of Jaune and the left of Pyrrha, with Chester sitting down next to River at the very end of the table. All the spaces were now filled save three: Mr. and Mrs. Arc’s places at the head of the table and on its right respectively — Mrs. Arc gravitated towards the seat on the right, confirming Pyrrha’s guess, although she did not yet sit down — and one at the bottom, opposite Chester. There was no place laid at the foot of the table, but everything was laid out in that opposite space, so clearly somebody was expected.

Mrs. Arc cast her eye down the seated family. “Now is everyone…?” She sighed. “Now where is—?”

“Coming Mom,” came a voice from the stairs as someone who could only be Aoko, the final and previously unseen Arc sister, tumbled into view. Almost literally tumbled, as she must have tripped on something on the stairs because she emerged with a startled cry of alarm and seemed in grave danger of falling flat on her face. However, she managed to just about keep her footing and, after hopping a few paces forwards, came to a stop. “Nailed it.”

“Aoko, you’re late,” Rouge said primly. “And what are you wearing?”

Aoko Arc was a scrawny young woman, smaller even than Weiss Schnee and with absolutely no meat on her bones at all; Pyrrha could have put her hands around her arms and legs quite easily. She was dressed in an oversized blue t-shirt — very oversized; it was hanging off her — with the word ‘Allegedly’ printed on it in white letters and a pair of black short shorts about the length of Pyrrha’s miniskirt. She was completely barefoot. Her hair was the shortest of any member of the Arc family — including Jaune — cut in a bowl that barely descended past her ears, and she wore a pair of round, thick-framed black spectacles that gave her a slightly owlish look as she looked at her elder sister.

“This is comfortable, and I work best when I’m comfortable,” she said. “Besides, it’s not like we have company.”

“Terra’s been here for three days,” Saphron pointed out, but not unkindly.

Aoko blinked. “Hi, Terra. How’s, um, you know … the little guy with a big head…”

“Our son, Adrian?” Saphron suggested.

“Yeah. Him.”

Terra chuckled. “He’s fine. He’s asleep upstairs.”

“Great, sleep is necessary to the proper functioning of the body,” Aoko said as she wandered over to the free seat at the foot of the table and sat down. “Hey, Jaune,” she said, as casually as if he’d just been to the bathroom and it had only been a few minutes since they last saw one another.

“Hey, Aoko,” Jaune said, apparently not finding this unusual.

“I got the cheese puffs myself.”

“Uh, right,” Jaune said. “Sorry about that.”

River smiled even as she rolled her eyes. “You hadn’t noticed he was gone, had you?”

Aoko frowned. “'Gone'?” She blinked. “Wait, there was a message, months ago, Atlesian girl, begins with a … Vesper?”

“Twilight Sparkle?” Jaune suggested.

“Yes, yes, Twilight Sparkle, theories on robotics, very interesting, messaged me, mentioned you. I don’t remember what she said.”

“Is this making any sense to you, Jaune?” asked River.

“Yeah, Twilight Sparkle, I know her,” Jaune said. “She’s an Atlas student who’s been studying at Beacon for this year; she found out that I was Aoko’s brother, and she sent her a message to let her know that I’d made it and I was okay.”

“You knew?!” Kendal demanded. “You knew where Jaune was this entire time, and you didn’t say anything to the rest of us?”

“I didn’t pay much attention,” Aoko said. “When I’m busy, I just sort of skim through my messages.”

Before anyone could say anything in response to that, there was the sound of the front door opening and footsteps in the hallway.

“Sorry I’m late,” a gruff voice announced. “That new hole on the fairway was a little tougher than I’d thought, and then Archie offered me a drink, and it would have been—”

A man entered the dining room and stopped in his tracks. He stared, and it didn’t take Pyrrha long to realise that he was staring at Jaune.

Jaune got to his feet. His hands were trembling slightly, and Pyrrha so very badly wanted to take him by both hands to comfort him, to reassure him that she was here and that it would all be okay, but she couldn’t, not here, not in front of his whole family like this. She could only watch as he shook with nerves.

“Hi, Dad,” he said.

Mr. Arc was a heavyset man, muscular but also starting to bulge a little at the waist. His hair had mostly turned to grey — only a few golden streaks remained — and was in any case very short and mostly gone from the top of his head, but his eyes remained the same vibrant blue of all the Arcs. His face was lined with years or cares or both and covered lightly with a coating to stubble. He was casually dressed, in a t-shirt of dull gold and a pair of corduroys, and the muscle that still corded his arms was the only real clue that he had once been a huntsman.

“Jaune,” he said after a moment. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No,” Jaune murmured. He looked down. “I should have called.”

“It’s no big deal. Your room’s still here, and it’s not like there’s ever a food shortage in this house,” Mr. Arc said, with surprising ease in his voice; at least, it was surprising to Pyrrha. He took a couple of steps forward. “But you and I are going to need to talk about some things later.”

Jaune swallowed. “Yes. Of course.”

“Now, sit down; you look like you’re about to collapse,” Mr. Arc said. He walked towards the table. “Anyway, hi, kids.”

“Hi, Dad,” chorused the Arc sisters.

He smiled fondly, but stopped as he reached Pyrrha, casting a shadow over her. “Hello, and who might you be, Miss—”

“Nikos,” Pyrrha said, as she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “Pyrrha Nikos, I … I’m here with your son, sir.” She bowed her head. “It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Please, Miss, none of the Mistral manners,” Mister Arc said. “I was on a team with a Mistralian girl who was always so prim and proper; it used to drive me nuts.” He thrust out his hand. “Gold Arc, good to meet you, welcome to our home. I take it you’ve already met my wife and kids?”

Pyrrha took his hand gently. “Yes, I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Then you’ve met the best parts of the family already,” Mister Arc said, a smile appearing on his face. “So, you’re here with Jaune, huh? I guess he must be doing something right.” He let go of Pyrrha’s hand and turned away, leaving her cheeks to burn unnoticed as he went to the head of the table and kissed his wife. “Evening, honey; sorry I’m late.”

“It’s alright, dear, but if we don’t get started soon, then everything’s going to get cold.”

“And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Mister Arc said, as he sat down at the head of the table. “Sky, would you mind saying grace?”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Sky said, as everyone at the table bowed their heads and held out their hands.

It took Pyrrha a moment to realise what they were doing; she only really understood when Kendal tapped her on the right hand and indicated what everyone else was doing: holding their right hand out, palm upwards, and placing their left hands in the open palms of the person to their left. In that way, they joined hands in a chain … except that Sky was very pointedly refusing to offer her hand to Pyrrha, something that either no one noticed or no one wanted to comment on. Pyrrha contented herself with taking Kendal’s hand and placing her other hand upon her knee.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

“We give thanks for the food at our table, for the warmth of our fire, and for the shelter of our home,” Sky said. “We give thanks for our family, and especially for the return of our brother Jaune, who has come home after too long away. We give thanks for the fact that we have somewhere to come back to where we will always belong. For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Violet said. “Now let’s eat!”

The food really was delicious. Pyrrha probably wouldn’t have eaten so much if Kendal — “Try the chilli; it’s delicious.” — hadn’t been sitting next to her, but she ended up having at least a taste of everything and a great deal of some things. The chilli was hot and spicy in just the right ways, the chicken was crisp without and succulent within, the potatoes crumbled at the touch of a fork.

“This really is excellent food, ma’am,” Pyrrha said.

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Arc said, coolly but politely. “I’m glad you like it.”

Excited chatter surrounded the table as the Arc siblings dug in to the meal that their mother had prepared, until Aoko — who looked to be scribbling some equations on a napkin with one hand even while she shovelled melted cheese and potato into her mouth with her other hand — said, “So, Jaune, where did you go?”

The table could not have fallen more silent if she had just announced her plans to go out and commit murder. Chester began a very intense and thorough study of his potatoes, bowing his head and not looking at anything or anyone. Ruben looked down at his hand and opened and closed it reflexively.

Aoko glanced upwards. “Sorry, I know that Twilight’s message probably told me, but like I said, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Kendal’s mouth twitched into a momentary kind of smile. Sky scowled. Saphron looked as though she’d rather be somewhere else.

Rouge cleared her throat. “Aoko, that isn’t—”

“I’ve been at Beacon Academy,” Jaune said, looking down the table towards his sister. “I’m training to become a huntsman.”

“Like Dad?” Aoko murmured. “Cool.”

“No, it’s not cool,” Sky growled. “Don’t encourage him!”

Aoko blinked owlishly as she briefly looked up from whatever she was scribbling. “Does he need encouragement…? Didn’t you just say you’d been there already?”

“This isn’t really appropriate for the dinner table—” Rouge tried to interject.

“He’s been there,” Sky declared. “He’s not going back.”

“I’m sitting right here!” Jaune exclaimed, waving his arms to emphasise the point. “And I am going back, for the next three years until I graduate.”

“No, you’re not!” Sky snapped. “You shouldn’t have gone in the first place, and you’re certainly not going back. You’re going to pack your so-called girlfriend back home, and you’re going to stay right here where you belong.”

Jaune stared at her across the half-eaten dishes. “No,” he said.

Sky frowned. “'No'?”

“No,” Jaune repeated. “I’m not going to break up with Pyrrha, and I’m not going to stay here; I’m going back to Beacon, and you can’t stop me.”

Pyrrha smiled inwardly. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought that Sky might have expected her brother to fold so easily at her first push; she had no idea how strong he had become in the intervening months. That was part of the reason why she did not — and would not — say anything: he didn’t need her help anymore.

The other reason was that she felt that he wouldn’t want it. This was his family and his fight.

And his chance to show them what sort of a man he was now.

“Please be reasonable, Jaune,” Rouge said, using a definition of reasonable that Pyrrha’s mother might have approved of. “Beacon isn’t the place for you.”

“But it is,” Jaune said. “I’m part of a team, I have friends for the first time in my life—”

“Jaune,” Violet said, her tone greatly offended.

Jaune looked discomfited by that. “Friends outside of my family, I mean,” he corrected himself. “People who weren’t obliged to like me, people who didn’t have to give a damn about me … but they do. Beacon is the place for me; it’s the place I’ve found, the place where I belong. It’s … it’s home to me now.”

“This is your home,” Sky insisted. “And we’re your family, and we want you back.”

“And what about what I want?” Jaune said. “This is the most important thing I’ll ever do in my whole life, and you want to just take it away from me? Why?”

“How about you stop being so selfish and think about other people for a change?” Sky demanded.

If there was anything that Sky could have said to break Pyrrha’s resolve to let Jaune fight his own battle on this occasion, it was that. Selfish? Selfish? How … how dare she? How dare she even suggest that she knew Jaune when she obviously had no idea what kind of a person he was? He was one of the most generous, selfless people that Pyrrha knew; the very essence of his soul reflected it; he risked his life to defend the lives of others and support the people he cared about, and for that, she called him selfish.

Beneath the table, Pyrrha’s hands clenched into fists, and she felt righteous indignation rushing up her throat while hastily writing out a very sternly worded speech.

Jaune looked every bit as flabbergasted by the audacity of Sky’s remark, but he was quick thinking enough to cut off Pyrrha before she said anything. “'Self'… I’m training to become a huntsman. I’m fighting to protect the world from darkness.”

“The world isn’t your home; this is,” Sky insisted.

Jaune looked as though he were momentarily rendered speechless. “Do you… do you really think that this town is the only place in Vale, in Remnant, that matters? What about Shion, where we used to go on vacation? What about Vale, where we sell all our crops? Don’t they deserve to be protected? Don’t the people who live there deserve to survive when the grimm come?”

“If the grimm come,” Sky said. “I’ve never seen one, and neither has anybody else that I know.”

There was a grinding sound to Pyrrha’s right that turned out to be Kendal grinding her teeth. Sky didn’t notice.

“I think the threat of the grimm is exaggerated by the people who run the huntsman academies so that they can take people like you away from their homes—”

“Sky, shut your mouth, or you’re going to end up with fewer teeth than me,” Kendal snarled.

River’s eyes widened. “Kendal…”

“Kendal, please, let’s not have any language like that at the dinner table,” Mrs. Arc murmured.

“Kendal, honey, come on—” Mr. Arc began.

“No, Dad,” Kendal said as she stood up. “How can you sit there and let Sky run her mouth off like that? You were a huntsman; you know what the world is like out there, so how can you listen to these … these lies!”

“Maybe the fact that Dad isn’t arguing means that they’re not lies,” Sky said.

Kendal’s mouth contorted into a snarl. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” she yelled, as spittle flew from her mouth to land on Pyrrha’s cheek. “You have no idea. … Do you think that this town is safe because it’s special? Because the world isn’t that dangerous after all? Because we’re lucky? This stupid town is safe because people like Jaune and Pyrrha put their lives on the line every day to keep it safe, and sometimes, they die!”

She gasped, covering her mouth as though she were about to throw up. There were tears in the corners of her blue eyes, and Pyrrha wondered if this was the first time she had really understood the risks involved in the life that Jaune was leading. She shook her head.

“Worry about him if you want,” Kendal said. “I worry. But don’t talk to Jaune like he’s an idiot because he’s not. He’s the bravest of us all.”

She turned away.

“Where are you going, Kendal?” Mrs. Arc said. “We haven’t finished dinner yet.”

“I can’t,” Kendal said. “I … I can’t sit here.”

She started to walk around the table, and although Mrs. Arc looked as though she wanted to say or do something more to stop her, a hand on her arm from Mr. Arc and a shake of his head prevented her.

Kendal sounded as though she was sobbing as she walked up the stairs.

Mr. Arc sighed. “Sky, at some point tonight, I expect you to apologise to your sister.”

Sky gasped in outrage. “'Apologise'? She’s the one who’s acting like a big baby.”

“You’ve upset her, and you’re going to make it right.”

“I didn’t—”

“I want you to make up with her,” Mr. Arc said heavily. “Do you understand?”

Sky wilted under his gaze, looking down at her hands rather than meet his gaze. “Yes, sir. I’ll say I’m sorry.” She glanced at Jaune. “How come Jaune doesn’t have to apologise for running away? Or for breaking Crocea Mors?”

“Sky!” Jaune squawked in a strangled voice.

That, Pyrrha thought, was a blow so low that it would be illegal in most tournaments.

“Your brother and I are going to have a full and frank talk about everything,” Mr. Arc said. “But that doesn’t excuse the way that you’ve been behaving.”

“I want Jaune home!” Sky exclaimed. “I want our family back before we have to bury our brother; I want him here where he belongs instead of embarrassing us in front of the whole town playing make believe with this outsider. I want things back the way they were before, is that so wrong?”

“And you say that I’m the selfish one?” Jaune asked. “Come on, Sky, the way things were before was you treating me like a pet who had to be watched all the time unless I burned down the house.”

“Well—” Ruben began.

“Hush, Ruben,” Rouge said. She paused for a moment. “If you wanted to prove to us that we had misjudged you, then perhaps you were right to do so. Perhaps we did underestimate your competence. But now that you have proven yourself, can you not come home? We can be better than we were before. What you’re doing at Beacon … it just isn’t done around here, and it’s so dangerous too.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Jaune said. “I’ve already spoken to Mom about this, and … if you guys can’t accept my choice, then I’m not going to stick around here to be lectured about how wrong I am. Because I’m not. I’ve seen what’s out there, Sky; it’s not a myth, it’s not exaggerated, it’s real, and it’s dangerous, and it’s evil—”

“You’re doing a great job selling this,” River muttered.

“But I’m fighting it,” Jaune said. “I’m fighting it alongside my friends, and together, we can make a difference. We’ve made one already; we helped defend Vale when it most needed defending. We did that, Pyrrha and my friends and I; we stood in the Breach and we didn’t let the grimm pass. We did that. I did that with them. And I won’t turn my back on the people who are counting on me. No matter what you say; you can think I’m stupid or deluded or anything else … but I know what I am, and I know where I belong, and it isn’t here. Not anymore.”

Saphron smiled. “Since when did you get able to stand up to Sky and Rouge put together?”

Jaune raised his head a little in pride. “Since I found a cause worth taking a stand over.”

Pyrrha smiled too, to let him know how proud she was of him.

Sky, on the other hand, looked as though Jaune’s words were upsetting her nearly as much as her own words earlier had upset Kendal. “You talk about turning your back, but you’re turning—”

Mister Arc’s hand slammed down into the table with a solid thud that stilled all other sounds. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “Absolutely enough. The dinner table is no place for arguments. You’re insulting your mother and all the work that she’s put in to get this dinner ready for us. Jaune and I are going to talk later, and until then, I don’t want to hear a single word about this from anyone while we’re seated at this table, understood?”

Everyone obeyed him, with the unfortunate side-effect that the rest of the dinner passed in a rather cold and frosty manner. The silence was only really broken when Sky’s scroll started to go off.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this; it's Sprout,” she said apologetically, as she got up from her seat and walked towards the windows to take the call. “What? … And you can’t … I know that you’re having dinner with your Mom, so am I!” She sighed. “Of course you can’t. Sure, fine, I’ll go check it out.” She snapped her scroll shut. “Sorry, Mom, Dad; duty calls.”

“Is everything alright?” asked Mrs. Arc with concern.

“There’s a report of a disturbance at the McKinley farm, on the outskirts of town,” Sky said. “I’ll just go out there, tell them to keep the noise down and stop whatever it is they’re doing, and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Just be careful,” Mrs. Arc said.

Sky grinned. “Come on, Mom, you know this place; what’s there to worry about?”

She stepped quickly out of the dining room; Pyrrha could hear her pulling on her shoes in the corridor outside before she heard the door open and then close again shortly after.

The rest of dinner passed in a frosty silence as the plates were cleared; nobody disobeyed Mister Arc’s prohibition against raising the matter of Jaune’s return to Beacon, but that same prohibition seemed to have stripped anyone of any desire to find anything else to talk about. What little conversation there was was brief and to the point. Rouge looked ashamed of herself, while Violet spent much of dinner glaring at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha herself, although glad that Jaune had taken the stand that he had, found herself wishing that things would be a little less awkward.

And she found herself rather glad when dinner was over, although she wasn’t sure what would come next.

“Miss Nikos,” Mister Arc said, “I suppose my son promised that you could stay here for your visit?”

Pyrrha wondered if she was about to be thrown out onto the street. It wasn’t an insurmountable problem if she was — although she might have chosen different outfits if she’d known that she would have to camp out — but the fact that she trusted Jaune to withstand the pressures of his family didn’t mean that she wanted to leave him completely alone to face said pressures.

“Yes,” she said. “For the duration of our stay.”

Thankfully, Jaune’s father seemed to have no desire to turf her out of his home, for he said, “I’m afraid we don’t have any guest bedrooms free right now, but there’s a camp bed in Kendal’s room; you can sleep in there. River can show you the way.”

“Dad,” River murmured. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Kendal seemed pretty upset.”

Pyrrha was glad that River had said it and, thus, spared her from having to say it herself and presume a knowledge of Kendal Arc that her father didn’t possess. She had seemed very upset; would she want the intrusion of a stranger into her privacy at such a time?

Would I? Probably not.

Nevertheless, Mister Arc said, “Just show Miss Nikos the way; this is for the best.” He rose heavily to his feet. “And as for you, Jaune: come with me. It’s time for us to talk.”

Looking at his face then, Pyrrha almost asked if she could be a part of this talk if only so that Jaune wasn’t alone, even if she didn’t end up saying anything; almost, but did not. It wasn’t her place, and Jaune had no need of her to hold his hand every step of the way.

You can do this, Jaune; I know you can.

River pushed her chair back as she got up. “I’ll show Pyrrha upstairs, then come back to help with the dishes, okay Mom?”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Mrs. Arc said. “I’m sure that Rouge, Saphron, Violet, and I will be fine.”

“I’ll be quick,” River said regardless. “You going to be okay by yourself, honey?”

“I’ll make do,” Chester assured her.

“Great,” she said. “Pyrrha, you ready?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, as she too got up. “That is, if you don’t—”

“You’re a guest, remember?” Saphron said. “Guests don’t do housework.”

In my family, family doesn’t do housework either, Pyrrha said. Which I suppose means I should stop asking to be given chores that I’ve never had to do in my life.

It would be a fine thing if she were to break Mrs. Arc’s dishes, after all.

She allowed River to lead her out of the dining room and up the stairs. They were dimly lit, making it easy to see how Aoko had managed to trip and nearly fall down them, although Pyrrha did not trip herself. As they arrived at the top of the stairs and reached an equally dimly lit landing, River stopped and turned to face Pyrrha.

“I never thought I’d see that happen,” she said.

Pyrrha frowned. “See what?”

“Jaune stand up to anyone like that,” River said. “Especially not Sky and Rouge together. He’s … he’s not the same as when he went away.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “I can believe that. He’s not the same as when he first arrived at Beacon either.”

“Did you have something to do with that?”

Pyrrha felt her cheeks start to heat up a little. “I … I’d like to think so, a little,” she said. “But the truth is, I think that we’ve all had a little to do with it.”

“'We' … you mean the girls in that picture?”

“His teammates, yes.”

“Are they all as nice as you?”

“Um … more or less,” Pyrrha murmured. “Uh, River … can I ask you something?”

River snorted. “Do you want to know why I picked you and nobody else did?”

Pyrrha’s face was definitely burning by now, she could feel it. “I … that is … I know it sounds pathetic, but—”

“Nah,” River said. “I’d probably want to know as well. But the real answer is … I don’t know, really. Maybe it’s just this weird thing where I’m certain I know your face from somewhere. I’m sorry, that wasn’t a great answer, was it?”

“It’s the truth,” Pyrrha said. “I can’t ask for more than that.”

River sighed. “I’m sorry about my twin sister. She’s a bit … she really does love Jaune; she just…”

“She wants what’s best for him, even if he doesn’t agree,” Pyrrha said.

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“And you?” Pyrrha asked.

River was quiet for a moment. “Growing up, Jaune was always the sweet one. I don’t know if that was entirely because he was sweet or because he was scared to be anything else. We didn’t … we kind of wanted another sister, and sometimes, we treated him like one anyway, and we didn’t exactly care what he thought about it. But he never got mad, and he never did anything, so we thought … we all love Jaune. We all love our family; it’s probably the one thing that we can all agree on: we love our family, and we love our baby brother. And I’m not going to lie: the thought of him dying scares me. I can see where Sky’s coming from, and Rouge; a part of me wants to agree with both of them. But Jaune isn’t the same kid whose hair we used to put in pigtails, and I’m worried that if we don’t accept his decision … then we’re going to lose him.”

Pyrrha said nothing, although based on what Jaune had said, she was absolutely right.

“Do you take care of him?” River asked. “You and your friends?”

“We take care of each other,” Pyrrha said. She hesitated. “Yes, I try to protect him.”

“Good,” River said. “Terra says you’re something awesome so that … that makes me feel a lot better. Thank you and, once again, I’m sorry again about Sky.”

“You’re welcome,” Pyrrha said. “And there’s no need to apologise.”

“Come on,” River said. “I’ll show you the rest of the way.”

“I have to say,” Pyrrha murmured. “I’m a little surprised at a house this size not having any guest bedrooms.”

River laughed. “Yeah, I can’t really argue with that. The truth is, there was a time when it would have; you would have had a really nice guest room to sleep in, one of the bigger rooms, actually, even though it barely saw any use. But then—”

“You started getting married?” Pyrrha guessed. “I mean, you and your sister do still live here with your husbands, don’t you?”

“Yep,” River confirmed. “Are you surprised?”

“It is a slightly more traditional arrangement than I would have thought to find in Vale,” Pyrrha replied.

In Mistral, it would have been far from unusual; in high and lowborn families alike, it was common for the spouse of the higher status family to move in with their in-laws. Certainly, now that the situation with her mother was mostly resolved, she expected they would live in the family mansion in Mistral once they were wed and graduated both — when they were not in the field, at least. But sufficient Atlesian and Valish entertainment had penetrated Mistralian culture to make it clear that in other kingdoms, the opposite attitude prevailed and that children were expected to move out of their parents’ homes and start new lives upon their marriages.

“This is a traditional place, in case you hadn’t noticed,” River pointed out. “We like to keep the family close. Mostly. When Saphron wanted to move away, see a little of the world … the arguments nearly brought the house down. Perhaps Jaune had the right idea, creeping off in the middle of the night without saying anything. Maybe when Dad dies, Ruben will kick us all out, and we’ll have to fend for ourselves, but for now, we all live here, and so do Chester and Ruben. And so will Sky’s husband if she ever finds one, and Violet’s.

“But, to answer your question, that’s not it. There is one guest bedroom, but Saphron and Terra and little Adrian are using that one. Saphron’s old room wouldn’t have been big enough for the three of them even if I hadn’t soundproofed it and turned it into my radio shack — that’s my job, by the way: I’m the town DJ, all the music, news, and talk you need.” She grinned, although her smile swiftly faded. “There is technically a second guest bedroom — at least it’s still called the guest bedroom — but Rouge sleeps there most nights.”

“Rouge?” Pyrrha repeated. “Doesn’t she share a room with her husband?”

“Sometimes,” River said, with a slight sigh. “Since Ruben works and gets in late sometimes, it makes sense for Rouge to sleep alone so that he doesn’t disturb her coming home and getting to bed at unsociable hours.”

Pyrrha was no expert, and a stranger here, but that had the feel of … not a lie, perhaps, but an excuse. There was some sense in it, but … well, if that were the case, then shouldn’t Ruben be using the guest room? He was the one getting in late, after all.

He was also the one doing a hard day's work.

Pyrrha wasn’t sure; something about the way that River had said it, the sigh in her voice … did she find that explanation entirely convincing?

But Pyrrha was no expert, and a stranger here, so all she said was, “I see.”

“And the last guest room that we had is currently being refurbished,” River announced. One hand went to her belly. “As a nursery.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “Oh my, congratulations!” she gasped. “How…? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, but it doesn’t—”

“Show? No, I know. We only just found out. Doc Herring reckons I’m about ten weeks along.”

Pyrrha smiled again. “Congratulations once more. Have you told Jaune?”

River chuckled. “In all this excitement, I haven’t found the right moment.”

“I think almost any moment at dinner would have benefited from some happy news,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Is it too bad if I didn’t want it to be overshadowed?” River asked.

“No,” Pyrrha assured her. “No, not at all. But I’m sure he’ll be very happy for you.”

“Of course he will,” River said. “He’s a sweet kid. But anyway, that’s why you have to room with Kendal. That, and I don’t think Mom is ready for you to room with Jaune just yet.”

She led Pyrrha down the corridor, to a room where a light could be seen from under the crack in the doorway. A faded sign, decorated with hand-painted trees and cartoonishly-proportioned bunny rabbits in all the colours of the rainbow, proclaimed that this was Kendal’s Room. Another sign, newer but no less faded by years, ordered everyone to Keep Out.

River knocked on the door. “Kendal? Are you okay?”

“What do you want?” Kendal snapped from the other side of the door.

“Dad says that Pyrrha is to sleep in that camp bed in your room,” River said.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Pyrrha said.

There was a pause. “It’s fine,” Kendal said. “You can come on in.”

River winced. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. “I don’t know what’s up with her but … good luck.”

Thank you, Pyrrha thought, not entirely sincerely, as River headed back down the corridor towards the staircase.

Pyrrha stared at the door for a moment, before deciding that there was really nothing for it but to go through it and see what would happen on the other side. She really didn’t want to disturb Kendal when she wanted to be alone, but she didn’t have to stay long, only long enough to set down her things. She could go as soon as that was done.

Gingerly, she pushed open the door. A portable lamp, of the sort that were carried by campers or sometimes huntsmen on field missions, sat on a window-facing desk, illuminating the entire room. A large map of Vale covered one entire wall, with red circles and arrows scrawled on it and the entire southeast quadrant around Mountain Glenn scribbled over in thick black lines. There was very little else in the way of decoration; indeed, there was very little else at all, just a wardrobe and a couple of trunks and a half-packed duffle bag. The room was austere; indeed, it looked almost as though nobody lived here at all.

Which was just as well in some ways, since it was not the most spacious place in the house. Indeed, in many ways, it was positively small, although that might have been because, strangely, the camp bed was already set up and indeed made up ready for someone to sleep in. Kendal was sitting on it, her elbows resting on her knees. She looked up at Pyrrha as she came in, and Pyrrha could see at once that she had been crying: her eyes were red and her cheeks blotchy.

“Hey,” she said.

Pyrrha stared at her for a moment, until she remembered how rude she was being. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude; I just—”

“It’s okay,” Kendal said. She wiped at her eyes with one hand. “You’re okay.” She sniffed. “You can take the real bed.”

Pyrrha looked at the fully made-up bed on the left-hand side of the wall. “I couldn’t turn you out of your own bed.”

“You’re not; I sleep on this,” Kendal said, patting the camp bed. “It’s more … closer to what I’m used to.”

Pyrrha, who didn’t really understand but also was deeply uncertain of her right to pry, contented herself with saying, “Oh. I see.”

Kendal got up off the camp bed and walked towards the desk facing the window. She leaned upon it with both hands, her head bowed down below her shoulders. “How did you manage to sit there and not get angry?”

“At Sky?”

“At the way she was talking such garbage about everything … including everything you stand for,” Kendal said. “Doesn’t it make you so mad?”

“I don’t want to get into arguments with Jaune’s family; quite the reverse,” Pyrrha said softly. “And besides … her opinion on what I do isn’t all that important to me.”

Kendal snorted. “Lucky you.” She fell silent for a moment. “They don’t get it. Sky, Rouge, Violet, River, not even Aoko. Saphron kind of gets it, but even in Argus, she lives a pretty safe life.”

Pyrrha nodded slightly. Between Sanctum Academy at one end of the city and the Atlesian military base at the other — she had always found that placement slightly ironic, the old way and the new confronting one another with the city in between — Argus was about as well-protected as any city could be, not to mention the high walls and the seaward-facing shields. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes,” Kendal said quickly. “I didn’t mean … it’s just that even she doesn’t really understand. Understand what it’s like out there, understand what you and Jaune have to deal with every day, understand … understand how dangerous it is.”

“But you … do,” Pyrrha murmured.

Kendal straightened up, though she kept her back to Pyrrha as she pulled her green tank top off and threw it roughly onto the camp bed.

Pyrrha couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from between her lips. Kendal’s back was a morass of scars, broken up only by the concealing line of her bra; they were angry, ugly scars, long and thick and rising in undulations as they descended diagonally from her shoulder towards her hip.

“A beowolf did this,” Kendal said. “I was told afterwards it was only a young one. That I was lucky. I didn’t feel lucky at the time, or afterwards.”

“I don’t understand,” Pyrrha murmured. “I thought grimm never came here.”

“I wasn’t here,” Kendal said. “I … I am a member of the Survey Corps.”

Now Pyrrha understood, at least in part. Every Kingdom had a corps of surveyors, people whose job it was to explore the untamed and uninhabited regions that lay on the fringes of the kingdom’s controlled territory or in the spaces between the major settlements; their task was to find places where new settlements could be erected safely, considering the defensive suitability of the location, the climate, health, accessibility, and everything else that might make a settlement viable or otherwise. Their judgement was not always impeccable — witness Mountain Glenn; witness Oniyuri — but a number of thriving towns across the kingdoms of Remnant bore testament to their skill.

“Your aura—” she began.

“I don’t have very much of it, apparently,” Kendal muttered. “I hope that doesn’t say anything about my soul, but it broke after one lousy hit — even if it is the reason that one lousy hit just gave me these scars instead cutting me in two. And the kingdom won’t pay for combat training for surveyors; it’s not considered worth it, since we aren’t supposed to seek out grimm. No, if I see a grimm, my only response is to run like hell. Or have a huntsman escort to … to…”

Pyrrha walked up behind her, and placed a hand upon Kendal’s shoulder. She could feel the scars. “Who were they?”

Kendal sniffed. “His name was Manitou. He was from Mistral, but after graduating from Beacon, he’d decided to stick around in Vale. He said … he said he liked the people here. I didn’t always work with a huntsman — it costs money, and my superiors don’t always appreciate it — but after I got these scars, I got a little bit … nervous, you know. Grimmshy.”

“I quite understand,” Pyrrha said softly. Honestly, she wasn’t sure that she would have the courage to do what Kendal did and walk into grimm-infested territory without either arms — and the training to use them — to defend herself or aura of any significant strength to protect her. Being a huntress was dangerous enough, and the risk of death present enough without taking away both the sword and the bulk of the shield. “There is no shame in wanting to be protected.”

“I guess,” Kendal murmured. “Anyway, I put out a job, and I got Manitou. He was … he was nice. Charming, obliging … he had a way of making me feel like there was nothing to worry about. My next assignment, I put out another job for an escort, and there he was: Manitou. And the next job after that. I asked him if he was stalking me, and he said, ‘No, but I do keep hoping to see you again. I guess I must be pretty lucky.’ I asked why he didn’t just ask me out, and he asked me if I’d say yes. I told him I would, and so … and so, he asked.” She laughed. “He asked if all these missions counted as dates up until this point, and I told him, no, our first date would be after we got back from my assignment.”

Pyrrha hesitated. It was fairly clear that this story didn’t have the happiest ending. “What … what happened?”

“You’re a huntress; you can probably guess.”

“The grimm,” Pyrrha said softly.

“He told me to run,” Kendal said. “He told me that he’d hold them off, and I did what he said … I ran … and I never saw him again. Nobody ever saw him again.”

“You never told anyone,” Pyrrha said.

“How could I?” Kendal demanded. She turned around, and Pyrrha retreated back a step. “He was a huntsman and an outsider; you saw how Sky treated you. I didn’t want to … I couldn’t hear them talk about him that way.” She wiped at her eyes again. “None of them really get it, not even Saphron … but you get it, don’t you?”

Pyrrha nodded. “The world needs good people like Manitou, and like Jaune.”

“'Like Jaune,'” Kendal repeated. “I … I know that it’s a worthy path he’s chosen, and I want him to be able to follow his dreams, but I … as his sister, I’m terrified that one day, Jaune is going to have to be the one to hold off a pack of grimm so that someone like me can run away, that he’s going to be the one who never gets seen again.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Pyrrha declared.

Kendal looked her in the eye. “Does it bother you that he might die?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha confessed. “There are times when … when it terrifies me, too.”

“Then how do you do it? Why do you do it? Why don’t you ask him not to do this?”

“Because he’d never forgive me,” Pyrrha said. “Because the moment I stop believing in him is the moment that I lose him. I … I’ve nearly lost him already.”

Kendal waited a moment for elaboration that did not come. “How?” she asked. “I mean … are you talking physically or—”

“Emotionally, for the most part,” Pyrrha replied, her voice soft and quiet. “I … on our last mission, there was a woman. A dangerous woman. An enemy. I … I wanted to prove that I could beat her.”

Kendal frowned. “Prove to who?”

“To myself, mainly,” Pyrrha answered. “And to her as well, I think.”

“But you couldn’t?” Kendal guessed.

“No,” Pyrrha confessed. “Her marriage of skill and cunning was greater than I had anticipated; I was … there was a moment when she had me.”

She sank down onto the bed, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Jaune … I’d left him behind. Even though I’d promised him already that I would not do so. I so badly wanted to prove myself, to prove that I was stronger than her. And I was fearful; I didn’t think that Jaune was any match for our enemy. He was not, he is not, she is so very strong, but … but when he heard me scream, he came to my aid. He didn’t hesitate; he didn’t care that he was outmatched. He ran to help me. That’s … that is when he broke his sword. It’s my fault.”

“There are worse things to break,” Kendal said, with a dismissive wave of one hand. “What happened?”

“Jaune bought me time,” Pyrrha explained. “I got something of a second wind, and our enemy retreated.” She paused for a moment. “I think that … if he didn’t love me so, he would have left me for breaking my promise to him. Gods know that he would have cause to do so. But he didn’t, because, I think, I hope, I hope so very, very much, that he does love me so. And so he demanded a new promise from me, one that I cannot, dare not, will not break. I will not fight without him again.”

“Even if it’s dangerous?”

“Especially when it is dangerous,” Pyrrha replied. “The danger is precisely the reason for the promise.”

“That … is romantic and terrifying in equal measure,” Kendal said. She took pause a while before she went on, “You know … Jaune’s lucky in a lot of ways. I hope he gets how lucky he is. My family weren’t thrilled when I told them I wanted to be a surveyor, as you can guess; I had to promise that I’d come home regularly, even though I … I don’t really enjoy it a lot of the time, the way they talk, the things they think. Jaune’s lucky to be away from all of that at Beacon, he doesn’t have to put up with this, he doesn’t have to wonder if there’s something wrong with him because he doesn’t have to belong anymore … and he doesn’t have to be alone. Huntsmen are lucky to work in teams. Do you love him?”

Pyrrha was momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in subject. “Yes,” she said. “I do love him.”

Kendal smiled. “I’m guessing that your aura is a lot stronger than mine, and that you’ve got at least one deadly weapon somewhere in that luggage, so I won’t bluster empty threats at you,” she said. “Just … don’t break his heart, okay? He deserves better than that.”

“I’m well aware,” Pyrrha assured her. “And that is why I have no intention of being anything but absolutely faithful to him.”

Kendal chuckled. “He’s the best of us, in a lot of ways. You’re lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I know,” Pyrrha said sincerely. “I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

Jaune felt as though his gut had turned to ice as he followed his old man outside into the back garden. It had been easier than he had expected to stand up to Sky — he just had to remember everything that he’d been through since he arrived at Beacon. Even though he couldn’t tell them about half of it, the knowledge that there was a truly terrifying world out there and that someone had to protect people like his family from that world had been enough to see him through the contest.

But this … this was his father they were talking about, and even if he’d stepped in to stop the argument between Jaune and Sky, that was no guarantee that he was going to be on Jaune’s side now.

Jaune couldn’t remember the last time that his father had been on his side. His greatest impression of his father was rather that he, Jaune, had been a disappointment to him. And now, Jaune couldn’t even count on his achievements at Beacon to earn his father’s respect, because he’d tarnished all of that by both stealing Crocea Mors and then breaking it.

He had no idea what was going to happen now, and he had no idea how he was going to react to it.

His Dad opened the back door and gestured to the wooden step beyond. “Sit down,” he said, with a gesture of his hand. “I’ll be back in just a second.”

“Okay,” Jaune murmured, his voice trembling even if his body wasn’t. He sat down and waited.

The sun had gone down by now, and only a pale light lingered at the fringes of the eastern horizon while the sky went dark around them.

He wished that he’d gotten the chance to apologise to Pyrrha before this. He shouldn’t have brought her here, to be insulted by his family and gawped at by his neighbours. She’d forgive him — he got the impression that she’d forgive him just about anything — but the fact that she would forgive, that she would not be upset about it, in a way, it made him feel worse about the fact that he had got her into this. The fact that she would suffer a lot didn’t mean that it was right of him to inflict suffering upon her.

He shouldn’t have brought her here, and yet, he couldn’t deny that he was still glad that he had. Having her here, being able to look across the table at her, had been a great help in reminding him what he was fighting for when he was trying to fend off Sky’s demands.

“Here,” Dad said as he reappeared behind Jaune holding two cold bottles of beer in one hand. “Take one.”

Jaune looked up. “Dad?”

“You’re old enough to kill monsters, you’re old enough to have a drink with your old man,” Dad said gruffly, and he pressed one of the two bottles into Jaune’s hand before he settled heavily on the back step next to his son. It was a wide step, much wider than the door which it led up to, and there was room enough for them to sit together without being pressed together.

Silence prevailed as Dad dug a bottle-opener from out of his pants pocket and cracked his bottle open. He put said opener on the wooden step between himself and Jaune and took a swig.

Jaune opened his own bottle and drank. It was harsher than he had expected, and more bitter. He spluttered a little after swallowing.

“You’ll get used to it,” Dad said. “Or not. You might not care to.”

Jaune didn’t say anything. He didn’t really understand what was going on here. Hadn’t he been called out so that he could be reamed out? Then why wasn’t his father yelling at him?

“So,” Dad said, still not raising his voice, “you broke the sword, huh?”

Now they were coming to it. Jaune hung his head. “Yeah, I mean yes. I broke it.”

“How?”

“Dad?”

“How did you do it? It’s a simple question,” Dad said. He didn’t look at Jaune, but instead kept his eyes pointed towards the horizon where the pale glow of the sun was dying.

“I…” Jaune hesitated, wondering how to describe it. “My opponent, she grabbed the blade, and … I think she must have used her semblance on it, because it was like the metal … it almost melted where she was holding it, and everything about that fell away.”

“So it was in battle?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said.

“Well then,” Dad muttered. “Stuff like that happens sometimes.”

Jaune blinked. “Wait … that’s it?”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, not that,” Jaune said. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Dad looked at him. “You had your mother in tears for days, and you upset your sisters, but it’s my great-grandpa’s sword that I should be mad about?”

“When you put it like that…” Jaune trailed off. “I thought that if I told you what I was going to do, then you wouldn’t let me go.”

“And you were right about that,” his father said. “We wouldn’t have let you go. Your sisters would have told you to not even think about it. And unlike tonight, you would have listened to them.”

Jaune took a deep breath. “Things have changed since I left.”

“Have they?” Dad asked sceptically. He was silent for a moment. “So, what’s it like? Is it everything that you imagined?”

“No,” Jaune said. “It … it’s not like that at all.”

Dad snorted. “I could have told you that.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Jaune said. “Dad … why didn’t you tell me any of this? You were a huntsman, but I hadn’t even heard of aura until Pyrrha explained it to me in the middle of initiation. I had this whole romantic idea about what it was going to be like because you never talked to me about any of it.”

“Of course I didn’t talk to you about it; do you think I want to remember all the times that I almost died?” Dad said. “I don’t talk about it, my grandpa didn’t talk about what he went through during the Great War, and if you ever have kids, you aren’t going to talk about the things that you did either, because you’ll be as glad to put it all behind you as I was.

“And besides,” he continued. “I didn’t want you to follow in my footsteps. I thought that if I didn’t talk about it, if I didn’t do anything to help you … you’d give up.”

Jaune dreaded to ask the next question, in part because he was fairly certain that he knew the answer, but at the same time, he knew that he had to ask. “You didn’t think I could do it, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t think you could do it,” Dad declared. “You couldn’t even rewire a plug, but I was supposed to think that you could fight the grimm? I didn’t think you could do it, and I didn’t think that you were serious. Being a hero. I thought it was something that you’d grow out of. I mean … why would you want to leave a place like this and risk your life out there?”

Jaune sighed. “You’re right,” he admitted. “It was stupid. I was stupid. But now … the things that I know, the things that I’ve seen … I can’t turn away from it. Not now. I won’t. I’m not a hero, but I fight alongside people who are, and I won’t abandon them.”

Dad snorted.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just reminded me of something grandpa used to say,” Dad said. “Like I said, he wouldn’t talk about the war much, but when he did, he used to say ‘I wasn’t a hero, but I served with guys who were.’ I think he meant the ones who didn’t come back.” He drank some more from his beer bottle. “Your sisters want you to come home, your mother wants you to come home … I’d kind of like you to come home. But it’s not going to happen, is it?”

“No,” Jaune said. “I can’t.”

“Because of the girl?”

“Because what I’m doing is the right thing to do,” Jaune said. He smiled sheepishly. “But, yeah, because of Pyrrha too.”

“She must be more than a crush; you brought her to meet your family,” Dad said. “I’m sorry that she hasn’t had a great reception so far, but … do you love her?”

Jaune nodded. “I do.”

“But you’re still going to risk your life a half a dozen ways each day?” Dad asked. “Jaune, do you know why I quit being a huntsman?”

“No,” Jaune said. “You never told me that.” Or anything else.

“My mind was made up when Rouge was born,” Dad told him. “Your mother gave her to me to hold, and I looked down, and I thought ‘I don’t ever want this girl, my little girl, to grow up without a Dad.’ And since I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t die on the job, the only thing to do was to walk away from the job. My family was just … more important to me.”

Jaune didn’t say anything immediately. As he listened to what his father had said, as he thought about what his father had said, he couldn’t help but think of Ruby and her mom. Had Summer Rose been so sure in her abilities that she hadn’t believed that she could die, or had she just believed that there were more important things even than ensuring that she’d be there for her daughters?

Probably the second one. She knew about Salem, after all; she probably thought that she was making sure there was a world for Ruby to grow up into, even if her mother wasn’t there to see it.

“So you’re saying I should quit so that Pyrrha doesn’t have to watch me die?”

“I’m saying that if you love her, you won’t make her mourn for you.”

“And what about me mourning her if something happened to her?” Jaune asked. “She’s not going to quit, I don’t even need to ask her to know that, and I … no, Dad. I get what you’re trying to say, but no. What I’m doing, what I’m involved in … it’s so much more important than you know. I’m protecting Vale, I’m protecting my friends, and I’m protecting Pyrrha. And I’m going to keep doing all of those things for as long as I can.”

Dad stared at him for a moment. “That school really made a man of you, didn’t it? I’m sorry, Jaune.”

Jaune’s mouth hung open. He apologised? His father had never apologised to Jaune, for anything. “What for?”

“For not thinking that you had it in you,” Dad said. “Nobody is going to bring up your leaving Beacon again; I’ll make sure of that.”

“Really?”

His father nodded. “I can’t say that this is what I wanted, but … you’re making something of yourself, and that is what I wanted. And if you had to steal from me and run away to do it, then … that’s just how it goes sometimes. What are you going to do with the sword?”

“I … I don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want me to do with it.”

“It’s your sword now,” Dad said. “Not mine, certainly not your great-great-grandfather's. Reforge it, or throw it away and get a new weapon, it's all the same to me, but if an old huntsman can give you one piece of advice: whatever you do, make sure that your weapon fits you, not the ghost of your ancestor. Don’t just make it exactly like it was, make it a sword that’s yours. Take my advice and thank me for it later.”

“I can thank you right now,” Jaune said. “I don’t really know what a weapon that fits me would mean right now, but … thanks, Dad.”

“Right now, you’ve got no one to thank but yourself,” his father said, reaching out to pat Jaune on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The only major change here is the addition of Jaune's brothers-in-law, added in because it felt strange that only Saphron would be married yet in this rather traditional family.

The Legend of Gaia Ever-Arc (Rewritten)

The Legend of Gaia Ever-Arc

Pyrrha was awakened by a knock on Kendal’s bedroom door. There was no hesitation, no musty remains of sleep that had to be cleared away; she had been asleep, and now, she was awake. As Pyrrha rolled out of bed, she saw that Kendal was exactly the same way, awake and alert at a moment’s notice. She guessed that it was their respective paths in life that had taught them to be this way.

As Kendal was awake, and as it was Kendal’s door, Pyrrha stood up but otherwise remained where she was, allowing Kendal to answer.

River stood on the other side of the door, wearing dark blue pyjamas with the sleeves a little too long for her and the bottoms a little too short, so that her hands were concealed and her ankles exposed.

“River?” Kendal asked. “It’s the middle of the night, what’s up?”

“It’s the middle of the night,” River repeated, “and Sky’s not back yet.”

“Really?”

River shook her head. “No. I’ve waited up for her — I wanted to talk to her about dinner — but she hasn’t come.”

Kendal frowned. “Yeah, but … so? Come on, River, this is Alba Longa.”

“I don’t know what it means,” River said. “But I … you can call it a twin sense or something if you like, but I’m worried. What’s out there at the McKinley farm that could be keeping her for so long?”

“You don’t think—” Pyrrha began, speaking very softly and very quietly.

“I don’t know what to think,” River said.

“God help us,” Kendal murmured.

“I don’t want it to be true,” River said. “It’s just that, when she’s delayed, Sky usually calls, but … but that stuff doesn’t happen here, right? This place is safe.”

“It’s not safe; it’s just lucky,” Kendal muttered. “And luck runs out. Have you told Dad?”

“No,” River said. “I was hoping that…” She glanced over Kendal’s shoulder to look at Pyrrha. “You’re good, right? That’s what Terra said, that you’re good. You know what you’re doing.”

“I would like to think so,” Pyrrha said softly, because if River’s fears were right, then this town could be in a lot of trouble. If any number of grimm had suddenly appeared, on the edges of a town with no defences, inhabited by people who no longer felt they needed them … she would do what she could, and Jaune too, but there was only so much that the two of them could do.

But they would do what they could, until they could do no more. For Sky, for anyone, regardless of whether they liked them or not. That, after all, was the duty of a huntsman.

“I probably shouldn’t … will you go and check it out?” River asked. “Dad hasn’t picked up a weapon since Rouge was born, but you … you’re supposed to be good. If it all turns out to be nothing, then I’m sorry for waking you up but—”

“I’ll go,” Pyrrha said, because that was also a huntress’ duty. “Just let me put my boots on, and I’ll be ready to leave.”

“You don’t have any armour to put on or anything?” asked Kendal.

“I do, and it would be ideal to wear it,” Pyrrha admitted; although she had mostly packed elegant formalwear, she had brought her armour with her, just as she had brought Miló and Akoúo̱. She pulled her boots out of her case and quickly pulled them on. “But it would also take too long to put it all on. My aura will have to serve alone.”

This would be the first time that she had gone out to fight — possibly to fight — in her pyjamas, but who could say if it would be the last? The life of a huntress was fraught with surprises.

“Okay,” Kendal said. “I’ll take you down to the McKinley place.”

“What about Jaune?” Pyrrha asked.

“What about Jaune?” River repeated her own question back at her.

Pyrrha tied her hair up out of the way. “We need to tell him about this.”

“No, we don’t,” River said. “Jaune’s—”

“A huntsman in training,” Pyrrha said as she pulled on her other boot. She stood up. “And I promised that I wouldn’t do this without him.”

River squirmed a little. “He … he doesn’t have to know.”

“But I would know,” Pyrrha said. “I’d know that I’d broken my word to him, again. I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

“I appreciate that, Pyrrha,” Jaune said, softly but firmly, as he walked up behind her, having presumably come from his own bedroom. He was not wearing his blue onesie; rather, he had pulled his jeans and hoodie on again, though his feet were still clad in his bunny-eared slippers. “What’s going on?”

“Sky hasn’t come back yet,” Kendal said.

“I asked Pyrrha to check it out,” River added.

Jaune’s eyes widened. “No way, you think that—?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Pyrrha said quickly. “But it’s … possible.”

Jaune’s chest heaved. “Then I’m coming with you,” he said firmly.

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You don’t even have a weapon,” River pointed out.

“Hang on a second,” Kendal said, darting around Pyrrha and to the back of the room where her desk stood waiting for her.

Kendal bent down, pulling open the draws and rummaging around in them for a moment. She came back holding a knife in one hand, a long-bladed dirk with a mother-of-pearl handle. There was a flower pattern carved into the handle, a stem winding its way towards the blade, with flowers blossoming off it at intervals.

“This … this was given to me,” she said, “by … by a good friend.” She pressed it into his open palm. “Take it; it’s better than nothing.”

Jaune stared at the knife in his hand for a moment, before he looked back at his sister. “Thanks, Kendal.”

“Jaune,” River began. “I don’t—”

“River,” Jaune said. “I have to do this, not just because Sky’s my sister, but because this … this is what I do now.”

River stared into his eyes for a moment. “I hope all that training you’ve gotten at that school was worth it.”

It took Jaune only a moment to pull on his trainers, and unlike her, it took very little time at all for him to pull his cuirass on over his hoodie too, so that he had some chest protection to augment his aura. That done, and with Miló and Akoúo̱ slung across Pyrrha’s back and with Jaune’s shield over his arm, Kendal sneaked the two of them downstairs and out the door.

“I remember the way to the McKinley farm,” Jaune said. “You should wait here.”

“Right,” Kendal said, nodding her head and sounding rather relieved as she said it. “I … I don’t know whether to say ‘better you than me’ or tell you to stay safe. How about both?”

Jaune smiled. “Both is fine.”

“Good luck out there,” Kendal said. “We’ll be waiting.”

She closed the door, but Pyrrha would not have been surprised to learn that she was just standing there, immediately on the other side, waiting, just as she had promised to do.

Jaune stared at the door, the same door that he had hesitated before earlier today, and a sigh escaped his lips.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured. “If this is a grimm attack—”

“I know,” Jaune said softly. “I don’t know whether it’s lucky that we were here, or unlucky.”

“Whatever has happened to your sister, you did not cause it,” Pyrrha said. “We should go, and quickly.”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Thank you, for keeping your promise. It would have been really easy for you to go without me.”

Pyrrha slipped her hand into his. “You’re my partner. We do this together.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jaune said.

He led the way. The town which had so bustled with chaotic activity during the day was almost completely empty at night. Pyrrha hadn’t been expecting flourishing city-style nightlife, but she was a little surprised at the way that absolutely nobody seemed to be abroad under the light of the moon. Even the animals appeared to be asleep, for they saw no sign of them as they moved briskly down the dirt tracks. Some of the houses had lights on within; others were completely dark and silent. Even the water of the lake was still, with no sign of any faunus swimming by moonlight. The wind whistled through the high stalks of wheat, but that was the only sound other than their footsteps to disturb the town.

There were no birds, Pyrrha realised. No owls screeched or hooted; nothing made a sound. That was odd. Suspicious, even. It suggested that something had frightened them all away.

“Jaune,” she murmured. “How close are we?”

“Pretty close,” Jaune said. “It’s just up there.”

“Then let me lead from now on,” Pyrrha said as she pulled her weapons out from off her back, with her shield upon her left arm and her spear in her right hand, her knees and her back bent into a low crouch for a better centre of gravity. “This way?” She gestured with her spear.

Jaune pulled out the knife that Kendal had given him and gripped it tightly. It was a great deal shorter than Crocea Mors had been, but Kendal was right; it was much better than nothing. The blade glimmered softly under the moonlight.

Pyrrha took the lead, as she had asked to do; now that Jaune had pointed the way, it was quite easy to spot the McKinley farm under the light of the broken moon: it was the broken house, the one with its walls smashed down, the roof caved in, the whole place reduced to rubble such as they had seen on the outskirts of Mistral when they had set out to hunt the karkadann.

Jaune let out a strangled cry at the sight of it. “What could have done this?”

I’m afraid we both know the answer to that, Pyrrha thought as she inspected the damage. So much had been broken down that the chimney was practically freestanding at this point, for all the walls that should have attached to it were gone. What had once been — she hazarded — a long, low farmhouse was now little more than a series of wall fragments, disconnected from one another, swaying as though they might fall at any moment.

“Sky,” Jaune murmured. “There hasn’t been a grimm attack here … ever. Why now?”

“Because they got past the huntsmen who usually fend them off?” Pyrrha suggested. “Because a certain grimm was more persistent than the others in getting over the hills? Because … I don’t know, Jaune. I only know what I can see in front of me.” She breathed in and out. “Do you have your scroll with you?”

“No, I didn’t bring it with me,” Jaune admitted, “You?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted and cursed her stupidity. They needed to warn somebody, because whatever had done this was bad news for the whole town. She should have thought, but she had been in such a hurry, and…

Stay or go. She could send Jaune back to warn other people, but he wouldn’t like to leave her; they could both go, but that would mean abandoning anyone here who might yet be alive. Or they could stay here and do what they could at the risk that nobody would be warned until it was too late.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “What do you think—?”

She never got the chance to finish the question. She was cut off by a cry of pain coming from somewhere in the ruins. It sounded like—

“Sky!” Jaune cried, and he darted past Pyrrha, sprinting furiously towards the ruined farmhouse.

Pyrrha ran after him, catching up quickly until they were running side by side, then Pyrrha pulled ahead just a little as they covered the open ground that had been separating them from the ruins.

The interior of the house was just as smashed and wrecked as the exterior looked, with tables and chairs and furniture all broken to kindling. But there was very little blood, not so much as Pyrrha would have expected, in all honestly. If a family had lived here, and they had perished at the hands of the grimm, then she would have expected more ghastly evidence of the monstrous appetites of the creatures of grimm. They had seen as much during the karkadann hunt, when they had come across the site of one of its depredations. But here, there was no such evidence, or at least not nearly enough, nothing but a few slight trails of blood.

Trails that led to where Sky lay propped against one of the remaining walls, her leg a bleeding mess. Her gun and flashlight both lay nearby her, but just out of reach. She was alive; Pyrrha could see her chest rising and falling, and her eyes were open too.

“Sky,” Jaune gasped, as he ran to her side and knelt down beside her. “Thank God. What happened here?”

Sky stared at him, blinking repeatedly as though she wasn’t sure he was real but was instead a phantom that would disappear at any moment. “J-Jaune?”

Jaune nodded. “It’s me, and I’m going to … Pyrrha, can you activate her aura, like you did mine? If you do, then I can boost it with my semblance and help her leg, but I don’t know how to … I don’t know how.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said as she folded Miló and prepared to store it upon her back.

“No,” Sky whispered, shaking her head. “No, you need to get out of here; it’s going to come back.”

“Sky,” Jaune said. “What are you—?”

Pyrrha heard the hooves first, thunderous pounding hoofbeats on the ground. She turned to face the dark woods, the trees that looked like monsters in the darkness with arms and claws outstretched to strike at them. But it was the actual monster that she could hear that concerned Pyrrha as she drew her spear once more and settled into a guard.

A monstrous boarbatusk emerged from out of the trees with a great roar. It was larger than the average boarbatusk, and heavier too, with heavy plates armouring its sides like the barding of a warhorse and thick spurs of bone jutting up out of its flesh. Both its flanks were scored with deep wounds, wounds that left its armour plates scored or even cracked in places, wounds that had gouged into its oily black flesh; it looked as though it had been embroiled in a fierce battle already, but those injuries seemed neither to be slowing it down nor weakening it at all, for it made the earth shake as it bore down upon them nevertheless.

The boarbatusk charged, and Pyrrha charged to meet it, her feet pounding over the wooden floor as she leapt over the ruined wall. The boarbatusk roared, and Pyrrha shouted in answer with a war cry of her own as she charged, her shield held before her.

The huntress and the monster closed the distance that divided them, and as they closed, so Pyrrha leapt; she sprung off the ground, soaring through the air, her ponytail flying about her as she flipped mid-air and descended like a thunderbolt to land upon the back of the grimm.

Balanced upon the creature’s black hide, Pyrrha brought her spear down into the nape of its neck, just behind the bone mask that protected its head and face. She drove Miló in as far as it would go, twisting her spear this way and that to do more damage.

The boarbatusk squealed in pain, halting its charge as it squirmed and bucked to try and get her off. It stomped back and forth, it swayed from side to side, and Pyrrha lost her footing on the beast and had to grab one of its protruding spurs of bone as she fell from standing on the monster to sitting on it like a rider on a bull. She switched Miló into its sword form and slashed frantically at the neck, trying to cut deep enough to sever the head from the body.

But strokes heavy enough and deep enough to slice large grimm in two were not her specialty, at least not without much more momentum behind her than she currently possessed. She was wounding the grimm — its roars of pain and the fact that it was so determined to get rid of her were testament to that — but she wasn’t doing enough, and certainly not doing it fast enough.

The boarbatusk rolled over, snapping several of its own bone spurs in the process as they cracked and shattered when pressed between the ground and the monstrous weight of the boarbatusk, but it must have considered it to be worth the trade, for it also got Pyrrha off its back. She felt her aura drain away as she was pressed like a fly between the table and the newspaper, crushed against the ground by the black bulk of the grimm, but then the beast was off her and back on its hooves once more.

Pyrrha snatched up her spear once more, thrusting it forward, driving it into the boarbatusk’s leg, but as she thrust, so too did the sound of three shots shatter the stillness of the night. Three snapping sounds, one after another, as Jaune fired Sky’s police pistol.

Pyrrha couldn’t tell if he had hit the monster, or if in hitting, he had actually hurt it at all, but he had certainly gotten its attention.

It was the worst thing he could have done.

Before Pyrrha could react, the boarbatusk had begun to spin, becoming a black and white blur that hung suspended in the air for a second before launching itself straight at Jaune, and at his wounded, helpless sister behind him.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha cried as the boarbatusk rolled towards him like an enormous boulder.

Jaune raised his shield in front of his face, and then his whole body began to glow white, the light engulfing him just like…

His semblance. Is he boosting his own aura?

It seemed so obvious in retrospect, but Pyrrha had never considered it before now. It probably burned through his aura at an increased rate, but that wouldn’t matter, so long as—

The boarbatusk struck Jaune as he blazed with the inner light of his soul, and though the force of the monster’s impact forced Jaune back half a step, the boarbatusk itself was flung backwards a dozen feet through the air to land on its side on the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

Pyrrha was already charging towards it. She transformed Miló into rifle mode and snapped off two shots as she ran, her boots pounding as they carried her over the earth while she transformed Miló into spear form once more to drive it home into the boarbatusks’s throat.

The grimm screeched, but did not die.

Pyrrha put her foot upon its shoulder, leaning her weight upon the beast to try and stop it from rising, to keep it down and vulnerable.

“Thank you, Pyrrha. But I’ll take it from here.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened as she watched vines, thick and black and covered in sharp thorns, erupt out of the ground beneath the boarbatusk. They moved as though they knew what they were doing, coiling like snakes around the grimm, the thorns digging into the black flesh unprotected by armoured bone. They wound around its mouth, snapping it shut like a muzzle; they wound around its legs, around its whole body.

Pyrrha took an involuntary step back, watching in horrified amazement as vine after vine rose out of the ground as though it had always been there, lying dormant, waiting for some command to rise.

The boarbatusk tried to rise too. It grunted and snorted and tried to open its mouth wide enough to roar. It strained with all of its considerable might, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought that it might overcome the vines and thorns that sought to hold it captive. But even as it got two porcine hooves upon the ground, even as it looked as though it might regain its feet, more vines emerged to bind it tighter, to hold it faster, to pull it back down to the ground again and keep it there as the vines wound ever tighter, tighter, and tighter, digging into the black flesh until they started tearing the boarbatusk into pieces.

Pyrrha turned to see who had spoken.

It was Rouge. Rouge Arc, Jaune’s elder sister. She was still recognisable, even though her blue eyes had turned to a dark green, her golden hair had darkened somewhat, even as it flew wildly in all directions behind her as though blown and buffeted by a wind that only she could feel. She was floating a few feet off the ground, the hem of her white nightgown gusted by the same wind that was disturbing her hair, rising up a little to reveal her bare feet underneath. She was still wearing her necklace of gemstones, and the seven rainbow-hued stones all glowed as she touched them with one hand, even as she thrust the other hand out towards the boarbatusk and the vines that had destroyed it.

“You are not welcome here,” she said, and for a moment, Pyrrha was unsure if she was referring to the grimm or to Pyrrha herself.

The boarbatusk cried out, whether in anger or in pain or both, Pyrrha could not say, but the vines sliced through it, ripping it to shreds, until there was nothing left of the grimm but ash and smoke, and even that began to swiftly fade away.

The glow of the seven stones around Rouge’s neck faded, and her eyes turned Arc blue once again; the wind that had gusted through her hair died down as she dropped back to the ground and, with a gasp, fell to her knees.

“Are you alright?” Pyrrha asked as she started towards her.

Rouge raised one hand to forestall her. “Sky,” she said, gesturing with that same hand.

“Are you—?”

“Yes, go,” Rouge gasped.

Pyrrha swiftly covered the distance, leaping over another fragment of wall to find Jaune kneel by his sister’s side, one hand upon her shoulder.

“We are family,” he said, his eyes closed and his whole body shaking as Sky groaned in pain. “Bound by blood … but also bound in spirit. Infinite … and forever. And so, as I love you, I unlock your soul.” Jaune gasped in sudden exhaustion as the light of his own aura dimmed, even as Sky began to glow with her own suddenly-released inner light.

“Woah,” Sky murmured, as she perceived the glow that surrounded her. Even now, her leg was starting to look a lot better. “What … what did you do?”

“He unlocked your aura,” Pyrrha murmured.

“And that’s not all I can do,” Jaune said as he held his hands over Sky’s mangled leg and said hands began to glow with the light of his semblance. Pyrrha didn’t stop him. He should have enough aura left for that, and there was no sign of any other grimm in the area.

Rouge walked over to join them, moving slowly but looking stronger with every passing moment. She joined Pyrrha in watching as Sky’s leg began to knit itself back together, the injuries inflicted by the grimm fading more and more with every passing moment.

“Did they teach you that at Beacon, little brother?” Rouge asked.

“Something like that,” Jaune said.

Sky looked up at her elder sister. “Where did they teach you how to do that thing with the vines?”

Rouge closed her eyes for a moment. “You weren’t supposed to see that. Nobody is supposed to see that. Sky, I’m sorry; I should never have let that monster come so close; I try to stop them in the forest where no one can see, and normally, I do, but that creature must have been too big and strong to be stopped by my regular vines, and I wasn’t paying enough attention—”

“Slow down and take a breath,” Sky said. “And just tell us what’s going on? What’s … what’s going on?”

Rouge hesitated. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Jaune said. “I should be able to boost her aura enough to heal the wound completely, right, Pyrrha?”

“I’d say so,” Pyrrha replied. “Although you know your own aura best.” But considering that Sky’s wound was very nearly healed already, it seemed a reasonably safe assumption.

“Come on, Rouge,” Sky said, her voice sounding stronger and stronger. “Spill it.”

A slight smile flickered across Rouge’s face. “Did you really think that it was by fate alone that the tranquillity of our home was maintained?”

Sky stared up at her. “I mean … I guess?”

Rouge wrapped one hand around the seven stones. “To answer your first question, it was grandma who taught me how to do this. She learned it from her aunt, who had learned it from great-great-grandma. Great-great-grandpa found these stones, before the war, before he even founded this town. He found these stones and, having no use for them himself, he gave them to his wife. He thought they were just beautiful, but she soon found out that they had … powers. Like magic. They could control plants, and the wind and the water too, though not to the same extent. She decided to keep her discovery a secret, but she also started to secretly use the powers of these stones, these geodes, to keep the grimm at bay and maintain Alba Longa as a haven of peace and safety, passing down the geodes and the knowledge of how to use them to keep the peace here. And so, while generations of Arc men have left this town and ventured out in the world beyond to battle the grimm, generations of Arc women have ensured that there is a home left for them to come home to when they tire of fighting.

“Grimm don’t come around too often, thank goodness, but when they do, I deal with them. I try to, anyway; one of them got away from me, and for that … I’m so sorry; if it hadn’t been for Jaune, then … I’m sorry.”

Sky was now sufficiently healed that she could stand up, although she still leaned on Jaune a little as they both rose to their feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sky asked.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Jaune added.

“It is a secret,” Rouge reminded them. “Nobody knows, not even Mom and Dad.”

“Yeah, but… but we’re family,” Sky said.

“This cannot get out,” Rouge said. “If people knew … someone might try to take the geodes away, or misuse their power. It would be dangerous in the wrong hands.” She hesitated for a moment. “As far as anyone must be concerned, it was Pyrrha and Jaune who defeated the grimm and saved you.” She smiled again. “It isn’t even that far from the truth; Pyrrha wasn’t doing too badly when I arrived, and I couldn’t have done what Jaune did for your leg.”

“Yeah, but, it’s a lie,” Jaune said. “You should be a hero to this town.”

Rouge shook her head. “I don’t do this for fame or glory. I do this because it’s home and because I can and because somebody must. Because I was chosen, out of all of us. Because Grandma passed this duty down to me, and I won’t forsake her trust or her memory. But no one can know. You and Pyrrha were the heroes tonight.”

Sky frowned. “Jaune, that … that thing … is that what you’re up against all the time?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Jaune said. “That one was a lot smarter than normal, wounding you as bait for other people, but yeah, that kind of thing.”

Sky’s frown deepened. “And those things have been coming around all this time, but you and grandma were keeping them away, Rouge?”

“Not as strong; usually, they’re smaller and a lot easier to handle,” Rouge said. “That’s why they don’t get past the vines that I’ve set up in the forest. But yes, they come around every now and then.”

Sky pursed her lips, and hung her head. “I guess I’ve been kind of making an ass of myself, haven’t I? I thought that this place was safe, when really, it was just that we had a defender that I didn’t know about.”

“We both owe Jaune an apology,” Rouge said. “I thought that … because I was protecting our home that you should stay here and shelter behind me, but that’s not what you want, is it? You want to be the shelter for those who don’t have seven magical stones to keep their homes safe from the dark.”

“I do,” Jaune said. “We do.”

Sky looked down at her leg, healed now but still visible through the torn remains of her ruined pants. She looked back up at Jaune. “I still wish you’d stay here, where it’s … where you don’t have to fight … but I guess we’re past that now, aren’t we?”

“I’m following the path I believe in,” Jaune said. “Like you all taught me how to.”

Sky snorted. “Yeah, right, there’s no need to brown-nose me now; I know who really deserves the credit.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Thanks for coming out for me, even after everything I said.”

“No huntress could do anything less,” Pyrrha said.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t know,” Sky said. She scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Can we start over?”

Pyrrha smiled. “I’d like that.”

Sky stuck out her hand. “Welcome to the Arc family, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Again, not much change here, mainly an alteration to when Jaune's ancestor first found the geodes. Also it isn't a Merlot grimm because that didn't make a huge amount of sense.

The Girl on the Cereal Box, Redux (New)

The Girl on the Cereal Box Redux

Pyrrha reached out and took Sky’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s a pleasure. A greater pleasure than I know how to express.”

Sky glanced at Jaune for a moment. “Okay,” she said softly. “We can talk about that later. For now…” She half turned away from Pyrrha and Jaune. Sky closed her eyes for a moment, bowing her head a little. Her blue eyes snapped open. “Okay, you two are the grimm experts; what did that thing do to the McKinleys?”

“Was the house like this when you got here?” asked Jaune.

“Pretty much,” Sky said. “I got here, found it mostly like this, and I was taking a look around when that thing jumped me. It bit me on the leg, dragged over there, must have been trying to use me as bait for anyone else who might come looking. Did it know that you were here?”

“Grimm become more intelligent as they get older,” Pyrrha explained. “It may not have known for certain that there were huntsmen in the village, but it might have wanted to be prepared in case there were.”

“They get smarter?” Sky repeated. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jaune muttered.

Sky glanced at him. “You’re not filling me up with good vibes here, Jaune.”

“Sorry,” Jaune said. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. I was lucky to have this fed to me in chunks in class.”

“You paid attention in class?” asked Rouge.

“Yes!” Jaune squawked. “Mostly.”

“The point is,” Sky said, “what did it do with the McKinleys? Did it … did it drag them off to … do they have dens? Do they store … do they store food for later?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Pyrrha said.

“I don’t remember it in any of Professor Port’s lessons,” Jaune added.

“Then where are they?” Sky demanded.

“Hold on,” Rouge murmured, and she raised one hand to touch the orange geode that she wore around her neck. The magical stone began to glow, and Rouge’s blue eyes turned once more to that dark green.

“Rouge?” Sky asked.

Rouge held up one hand for quiet.

Nobody said anything else. They just watched her, eyes transformed in colour, geode glowing brighter and brighter, until she released the stone, and instantly, the colour was dimmed to nothing. Instantly too, her eyes changed back to their usual blue.

“They’re in the cellar!” Rouge cried. “They’re all safe; they hid there when the creature attacked.”

“How do you know that?” Sky demanded.

“I could hear their thoughts,” Rogue said. “They’re frightened, but alive.”

Sky’s eyebrows rose. “Those things give you telepathy as well?”

“To an extent,” Rouge replied. “Trust me; they’re there.”

“I’m believing every other impossible thing tonight; what’s one more?” Sky muttered. “Okay, Rouge, go home. Jaune, Pyrrha, can you help me get them out?”

“I don’t see a cellar,” Pyrrha murmured.

“The door must be buried under some of this rubble; that’s why I need your help,” Sky said. “Rouge, go home, go to bed— wait a second, is this the reason you sleep alone, so that you can sneak out and go fight monsters?”

“I wish,” Rouge said. A sigh escaped her. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Fair; we’ve got stuff to do anyway,” Sky said. “Go. We’ll … go.”

Rouge nodded. “Good luck,” she said. “Remember, they’re all waiting for you.” She turned away and began to walk briskly — it was not quite a run, but it might have been if she had moved any faster — away from the McKinley farm, back in the direction of the rest of Alba Longa and the Arc house.

“Watch out for River!” Jaune called out to her as she retreated. “She’s waiting up for us.”

“I know,” Rouge called, turning back to them. “I’ve gotten past her once already.”

She turned away and resumed her swift progress away from here.

“I … my oldest sister has magic,” Jaune murmured. “My oldest sister has magic.”

“I suppose that must be quite surprising,” Pyrrha said, aware that it was a wholly inadequate response, but at the same time unable to think of what else to say in the face of the situation.

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You two!” Sky shouted. “Come on, I need some help here.” She paused for a moment. “Are you going to be enough, or do I need to wake up half the village and get a chain going?”

“We’ll be fine,” Pyrrha assured her. “Aura doesn’t just protect you from injuries or heal the wounds you already have; it also enhances your strength, speed, and stamina too.”

Sky blinked. “Well, that explains … huh. Yeah, you know, I can feel that, I think. Does that mean that you could have beaten Ruben up anytime you wanted to?”

“Maybe,” Jaune admitted. “But what would have been the point?”

“Why would you want to beat up your brother-in-law?” Pyrrha asked anxiously.

“Focus, Pyrrha,” Sky said, as though she hadn’t brought the subject up. She led them into the ruins of the McKinley house. “Now, um … I didn’t have cause to come in here too often, but they invited me in for a drink once or twice, and the cellar was…” She turned this way and that, pointing at nothing in particular, seeming to be looking for something that would jog her memory. “It was…” She began to walk through the ruins, pacing down the remains of the long house, peering at the piles of rubble. “It was there! Right there, near the kitchen!”

“Are you sure?” Jaune asked.

“Pretty sure,” Sky said, bending down near a pile of shattered brick and stone that had piled up near somewhere that might, Pyrrha supposed, have been a kitchen, although it was nigh impossible to tell at the moment.

“Help me,” Sky said, lifting a rock from the top of the pile and casting it aside. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Pyrrha urged, holding out one hand and letting out her semblance.

Her hand, and the sleeve of her olive-coloured pyjamas, were encased in the black outline of her semblance as she looked for traces of metal in the masonry, any bars or the remains of pipes, anything that she could use. She found them, metal, not in great quantities, but enough for her to use. She exerted herself, gripping those small fragments of metal, feeling her aura dropping a little as the masonry blocks became surrounded by the black outline of her semblance.

“Do you need a boost?” Jaune asked.

“No, thank you; I’ll be fine,” Pyrrha said. Her aura had taken a hit from the boarbatusk rolling on top of her, and she might have been concerned if there had been more grimm at large, but for this, what she had was adequate.

It was more than adequate to pick up all of the rubble that was blocking access to the cellar and safely deposit it on the other side of the ruin, revealing the cellar door itself, now covered by only a light dusting of stone chips and fragments.

“Okay, you’ve got a superpower on top of everything else?” Sky demanded. “And what was that light show that you did earlier, Jaune?”

“Our semblances,” Jaune explained. “Everyone has one; you just have to find it.”

“Does Dad have one of those?”

“And you’ll have one too, now that I’ve activated your aura,” Jaune said.

“This is going to make my head hurt,” Sky muttered.

She reached down and wrenched open the cellar doors, shining her flashlight down into the darkness below.

“Mister McKinley?” she called out. “Are you guys down there? This is Sheriff Arc; you can come out now, it's all clear.”

There was a silence from the darkness, before an older, slightly hoarse voice replied, “Sheriff? But … but what about that infernal beast?”

“It’s alright now,” Sky assured him. “My…” She glanced at Pyrrha. “My brother’s girlfriend killed it.”

“Who?”

“I know, I was surprised as well,” Sky replied. “But it really is dead, so you can come on out.”

She stepped back from the cellar. Pyrrha could hear footsteps from down below, and after a few moments, the McKinley family emerged from out of the depths: a wiry, late middle-aged man with hair turning grey and stubble on his sunken cheeks; an older woman with blonde hair fading in places; a woman a few years older than Jaune or Pyrrha, her hair also blonde but longer too; a man of about the same age with short black hair and a firm jawline, and two young boys.

“Is it really gone?” asked the smaller of the two boys.

Sky nodded. “It’s really gone. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“It came out of nowhere,” Mister McKinley said. “One minute, we were sitting down to dinner, and the next thing we knew, this thing just broke through the wall. We were damn lucky to be able to get into the cellar before it got any of us.”

“What was that thing?” asked the older woman. “How did it get here?”

“That … that was what they call a grimm, I understand,” Sky said. “They’re a big problem for some other folks in other places, but we’re pretty lucky not to be bothered by them … much. But it’s okay now; it’s dead, and I … I’m told that there won’t be any more showing up.”

“Told by who?” Mister McKinley demanded.

“By my brother, who is becoming something of an expert in these things,” Sky said.

“Jaune?” the younger man asked, looking over at Jaune and Pyrrha. “Jaune, is that you?”

Jaune raised one hand tentatively. “Hey.”

“And that … this is your girlfriend, Jaune?” the younger woman asked. “This is the one who killed that thing?”

“Hello,” Pyrrha said, waving one hand of her own. “Pyrrha Nikos, at your service.”

“Well, first of all, thank you so much,” the younger woman said, in a voice that was sweet but which drew out her vowel sounds a little too young. “Thank you, I don’t know what I can ever do to repay you—”

“That’s not necessary,” Pyrrha assured.

“But second of all, what is someone like you doing with Jaune Arc?”

Pyrrha blinked. “If you really do want to repay me,” she said, feeling slightly guilty as she said it, considering that she was taking credit for Rouge’s power, “then you could not ask me that question again.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked the other of the two boys.

“Why don’t you all come down to the Kent place down the road?” Sky suggested. “I know that they’ve had a lot of space to themselves since Clark moved out. I’m sure they’ll be happy to put you up for at least the night, or until you figure out what to do next. And I’m certain, in the morning, that everyone will want to help you get back on your feet.”

“That … that sounds like a good idea,” Mister McKinley. “Thank you, Sheriff. Thank you kindly, Miss Nikos. And you too, young Jaune.”

Sky led the way, with Jaune and Pyrrha following behind, shepherding the family — not that they needed it; the young couple kept their children well in hand — away from the ruins of their home and closer to the village itself. They reached another house, another farmhouse, surrounded by fields of tall wheat and accessible only through a single dirt road running through the fields. The house was smaller than the McKinley house had seemed, and Pyrrha did wonder if it would be big enough to take the family.

But of course, Sky knew the village much better than she did, and she thought this was a good idea.

The Kent house looked like a cosy place, with a soft, inviting orange light emerging out of the windows and smoke wafting out of the chimney, just about visible under the moonlight. The house was made of grey stone, irregular but sturdy, with a thatched roof and a wooden door painted red.

Sky knocked upon that red door as she reached it. “Mister Kent!” she called. “It’s Sheriff Arc!”

The door opened a few moments later, revealing an elderly couple, both with wrinkled faces and spectacles sitting upon their noses, with grey hair and slightly stooped backs.

“Sheriff?” Mister Kent said. “And Griswold? And you brought the whole family with you? It’s a little late to come visiting, don’t you think?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a visit, sir,” Sky said. “The McKinleys … their home…”

“We’ve got no place else to go,” one of the younger McKinleys said, “but Sheriff Arc said we could come and stay with you.”

“Well … yeah, that,” Sky said. “Their house was destroyed; there’s nothing left. I was hoping you could put a roof over their heads for the night.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t dream of turning you away,” said the woman, Mrs. Kent. “But destroyed? What on earth happened?”

“A monster,” said one of the younger McKinleys.

“A grimm,” Sky said. “It’s nothing to worry about—”

“A grimm destroying a whole house sure sounds like something to worry about!” Mister Kent declared.

“It’s dead now,” Sky said. “Jaune and Pyrrha killed it.”

“Jaune?” Mister Kent said, squinting from behind his spectacles. “Young Jaune, is that you?”

“Hey, Mister Kent,” Jaune called to him.

Mister Kent shook his head. “Grimm in Alba Longa, well I’ll be … w-what if more of them come here? What if—”

“Jonathan,” Mister McKinley cut across his words, “we can worry about the monsters all we like in the morning. Right now, my family has been sitting in a cellar for hours; we’re cold; may we please come inside?”

“Of course, dear, of course; come in, everyone,” Mrs. Kent said, stepping aside for them. “I’ll put some hot water on for everyone. Make yourselves at home.”

“Bless you, Martha,” Mister McKinley said. “In you go, kids, and don’t forget to say thank you.” He turned to Jaune and Pyrrha. “And thank you, both of you.”

As his family went inside, disappearing into the grey stone farmhouse, Mister McKinley lingered, his eyes still fixed on Jaune.

“I … I’ve gotta admit, I never thought you were much of a man, Jaune,” he said, “but I hope I’m man enough to admit I was wrong.”

Jaune’s back straightened a little; he drew his shoulders back. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

Mister McKinley nodded. “Miss Nikos,” he said gruffly, then turned away and followed the rest of his family inside.

“Sheriff,” Mister Kent said. “Jaune.”

“Goodnight, Mister Kent,” Sky said. “And my regards to your wife.”

“I’ll be sure to pass them on,” he said. “Goodnight.” He closed the door.

Sky sighed, running one hand through her short blonde hair. “How are people going to take it when the news spreads?”

Pyrrha didn’t answer, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not.

“I can’t really tell everyone not to worry because Rouge gets ‘em ninety-nine percent of the time,” Sky went on. “Rouge doesn’t want me to tell them anything about her. So how…?” She shook her head. “I’ll think about that tomorrow, after a few hours' sleep. Come on, you two; let’s get going.”

Sky led the way again, and again, Pyrrha and Jaune hung back just a little bit, letting her go on ahead, while they trailed behind.

“That was quite something you did with your aura,” Pyrrha observed quietly. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“No,” Jaune agreed. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle. “Jaune, of course, it’s okay. Developing your own techniques, working out how you can perform at your best, that’s all part of being a huntsman. It shows how much you’re coming into your own. What was it that you did, were you boosting your own aura?”

“Pretty much,” Jaune agreed. “I first thought about it from thinking about Rainbow Dash. You know where she does that thing with the punch, or when she took Adam’s sword on her arm?”

Pyrrha nodded. “She concentrated her aura in one place to absorb the impact, and she released her aura explosively as an offensive weapon.”

Those were not skills that she had ever been trained in, either offensively or defensively, but they were not unfamiliar to Pyrrha; Arslan had been known to use her aura to attack from time to time as well, and it was probably not a coincidence that she, like Rainbow Dash, fought without melee weapons. As an offence, it could certainly bring battles to a close quickly, provided that the blow landed, but it was also … lacking in subtlety and, so, anathema to Pyrrha’s style of fighting.

As for defence, again, Pyrrha had been taught to avoid being hit rather than to absorb blows, but that did not make it an invalid technique, especially for someone like Jaune who was less nimble on his feet than some of his peers and thus might find ‘don’t get hit’ to be a less useful approach than it was for Pyrrha.

And it certainly had proved a useful tactic against the boarbatusk.

“And I thought that … I don’t have the control over my aura to do that yet,” Jaune said, “but what if I could use my semblance to accomplish the same thing, you know? Boost a part of my own aura, as if I were concentrating it in one place?”

“That’s very clever,” Pyrrha replied. “Although you will burn aura that way, possibly quite fast, since you’re expending aura in a way that you wouldn’t be if you were only concentrating it. So be careful, and if you use that technique in a prolonged battle, make sure you keep track of your aura level, especially if you’re being asked to boost other people at the same time.”

“I will,” Jaune agreed. “But it worked, didn’t it? It worked even better than I thought it would; I certainly didn’t expect to send that boarbatusk flying the way I did. It was … that was pretty cool, don’t you think?”

Pyrrha smiled. “It was very cool,” she said, reaching out to slip her hand into his, intertwining their fingers together.

Jaune glanced down at their hands, then looked back up into her eyes and returned her smile with one of his own, lighting up his eyes.

And so, hand in hand, they followed Sky back to Jaune’s home.

River and Kendal were waiting for them in the hallway, and so was Chester, with one arm around River as they waited. Kendal paced up and down behind them, only to stop as Sky opened the door and stepped through.

“There you are!” River cried. “And you’re okay, so what took you so long?”

“And what happened to your pants?” asked Chester.

“I got bitten by a monster pig,” Sky said.

“Monster pig?” Kendal repeated, turning to face her. “You mean a grimm? A boarbatusk?”

“You know what that is?” Sky asked. “Right, of course you know.”

“There was a grimm?” River demanded. “Here, in Alba Longa?”

“It’s dead now,” Sky explained. “Pyrrha and Jaune took care of it. And Jaune healed my leg besides; you’d never imagine that monster had chewed down on it, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” River murmured. “You can do that? You can just heal injuries?”

“What I do is boost people’s aura,” Jaune explained, “and then their aura heals their injuries.”

“That still sounds pretty awesome; when did you learn how to do that?” River asked.

“They taught you all kinds of neat stuff at that school, sounds like,” said Chester.

“It’s my semblance,” Jaune said.

“Semblance of what?” asked River.

“I don’t really know why it’s called that,” Jaune admitted. “Maybe we can save the technical questions for later, like tomorrow?”

“Right, sure, that’s … sure,” River murmured. She paused for a moment. “You’re sure it was a grimm?”

“They get everywhere,” Kendal said. “More importantly, are you sure there was just the one of them?”

“There was no sign of any others,” Pyrrha informed her.

Kendal nodded, then glared at Sky, “Now do you believe me? This place was never safe; it was only lucky.”

“There’s no need to say I told you so,” Sky snapped. “Especially since you weren’t even right.”

“The ‘monster pig’ says I was more right than you by a long way,” Kendal replied, “and it also says that you owe Pyrrha an apology.”

“I’ve already apologised!”

Kendal glanced at Pyrrha. “Has she apologised? If she hasn’t, then there’s no need to pretend that she has just to spare her blushes.”

“Sky has very graciously apologised,” Pyrrha said, “and we’ve agreed to start over.”

Kendal snorted. “You’ve got a very kind-hearted girlfriend, Jaune.”

Jaune beamed, and his expression was so contented, and so pleased, that it made Pyrrha’s heart flutter a little more swiftly in turn.

“Trust me,” he said, “I don’t need anyone to tell me that.”

“You two are going to send me to the dentists,” Sky muttered. “You know they were holding hands on the way back from the McKinley place?”

“Are the McKinleys—?”

“Okay,” Sky said. “They hid in the cellar when the grimm attacked. Their place got wrecked, but they’re staying with the Kents tonight.”

“We need to think about what to do in case more grimm show up,” Kendal said. “We can’t rely on Jaune and Pyrrha being here next time.”

Sky said, “There’s no need to overreact—”

“It’s not overreacting!” Kendal yelled. “We’ve been underreacting this entire time, and now, it’s time to react! Those things are out there, and they’re dangerous—”

“I know that they’re dangerous; one of them almost killed me!” snapped Sky. “But we aren’t going to help if we—”

A light went on in the dining room; they could see the light slipping into the hallway, even though they couldn’t see into the room itself.

“Sky? Kendal?” Mister Arc said. “Your mother and I can hear you yelling from upstairs, what are you two doing?”

“Is everything okay?” asked Mrs. Arc.

“Great,” Sky muttered. “Now you woke up Mom and Dad.”

“I’m not the one who—”

“You are too the one who started shouting!”

“Do you two mind?” River demanded.

Sky and Kendal looked away from one another, glancing down at the ground.

Without prompting, they all moved down the hallway, out into the dining room beyond.

It was not only the Arc parents who waited for them there, but Saphron too, and Ruben, and Rouge, standing near the back of the room where no one else could see her.

“Jaune?” Mister Arc said, as they emerged into view. “Pyrrha? What’s going on? Why are you all out of bed? Jaune, why do you have your armour on?”

“I noticed that Sky hadn’t come back from the McKinley place yet,” River explained. “I got nervous, and I asked Pyrrha to go out there and check it out. Jaune went with her.”

“Why?” Ruben asked. “Did you think you were gonna find a monster up there or something?”

“They did,” Sky muttered.

Ruben paled visibly, and Pyrrha could not say that she was sad to see it. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“There was a grimm up there,” Jaune said. “It had trashed the McKinley place, injured Sky; it attacked us before Pyrrha managed to kill it.”

“We both defeated it together,” Pyrrha said.

“Oh, God,” Mrs. Arc said. “Sky, honey, where are you hurt? Should you even be up? Why aren’t you with Doctor—?”

“I’m fine now, Mom,” Sky said, raising one hand. “Jaune unlocked my aura and then used his semblance to…” She looked at Jaune. “What is it that you did again?”

“I boosted your aura so that it healed your injuries,” Jaune said.

“Right,” Sky agreed. “Jaune did … that.”

“And the McKinleys?” asked Rouge from the back of the room.

“They’re okay; they hid in the cellar,” Sky said. “The Kents have taken them in, since their home is … gone.”

“A grimm,” Mister Arc said, his face pained.

He walked over to the dining table, now cleared of all plates and cutlery, without even a tablecloth laid out upon it, and pulled out a chair. He sat down heavily upon it, resting one arm upon the wooden table.

“A grimm, here? Here?” He shook his head. “I thought I’d left all that behind.”

Jaune took a step forward. “It was only one grimm, Dad.”

Mister Arc looked at him. “Listen to him, hasn’t even finished his first year at Beacon yet, and already, he’s talking like an expert.”

“Grimm don’t always move in packs,” Jaune pointed out. “Especially not boarbatusks, which this was.” He looked back at Pyrrha. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Boarbatusks are usually solitary creatures, when not part of a horde.”

Beowolves would almost always hunt in packs; ursai might form groups under the leadership of an ursa major, or they might form groups of no more than three without a leader, or they might move individually; boarbatusks were mostly solitary creatures; the behaviour of the grimm was as varied as the types of grimm themselves.

“And it’s not a horde, is it?” Saphron asked. “I mean, if it were, we’d know about it by now.”

“The boarbatusk that attacked was very large, very strong, and more intelligent than usual,” Pyrrha said. “Not the sort of grimm that would form the first wave if a horde were coming down on Alba Longa.”

“That doesn’t mean that we can be complacent,” Kendal declared. “We’ve been too complacent for too long already! More grimm might show up any day now; they might show up tonight!”

“Kendal, that’s really unlikely,” Jaune said.

“We can’t afford to sit around and do nothing any more,” Kendal insisted. “We need to—”

“To do what?” Sky demanded. “What is it that we’re supposed to do?”

“That’s enough,” Mister Arc said. “I’m not going to let you turn this into another squabble.” He got up. “Sky, are you sure that you’re alright? You don’t have any injuries?”

“No, thanks to Jaune,” Sky said. “You guys all heard the pause there, right? It wasn’t ‘no thanks to Jaune’ it was ‘no, comma, thanks to Jaune,’ because—”

“We got it, Sky, don’t worry,” Saphron assured her.

“That’s good to hear,” Mister Arc said. “And, that being the case, I think that now might be a good time for you to apologise to Kendal for what happened this evening?”

Sky deflated a little. “Come on, Dad, I almost died.”

“But you didn’t,” Mister Arc said, “and you just said you were fine.”

Sky let out a wordless groan, followed by a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, through gritted teeth.

Kendal’s eyes narrowed. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that I upset you at dinner tonight,” Sky said.

Kendal folded her arms.

Sky scowled. “I’m sorry that you turned out to be right, this place isn’t as safe as I thought, and what Jaune does is … actually pretty … necessary. And Pyrrha is pretty cool too. There, are you happy now, or is there anything else?”

“With that kind of attitude, I’m not sure that I should accept your apology.”

“Oh, come on, I’m trying my best here!” Sky cried. “Pyrrha accepted my apology.”

Kendal rolled her eyes. “Okay then, I forgive you. Apology accepted.”

Mister Arc nodded approvingly. He looked at Pyrrha. “Pyrrha,” he said, “apparently, Sky has already apologised, but she might not be the only one who owes one to you. On behalf of my family, I say sorry for any unkindness that you might have received, and which you didn’t deserve; thank you for coming to our home, and if I’m right, thanks are in order for taking my son under your wing as well.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I’d say that you were welcome, but the truth is, there aren’t any thanks necessary. I was thrilled and honoured when Jaune asked me to come here with him, and Jaune deserves all the credit for how far he’s come this year.”

“That’s not true at all,” Jaune said.

“Are you two going to be like this the whole time?” Sky asked.

“I hope so; it’s great,” River said.

“What are we going to do about the grimm?” Kendal demanded.

“If Jaune and his pretty girlfriend could take on one of those things, there’s no reason why we can’t!” Ruben cried. “We’ll arm ourselves—”

“That’s not a good idea,” Pyrrha said. “The grimm are not to be trifled with without proper training—”

“Anything that Jaune can do,” Ruben said, loading Jaune’s name with a sneer, “any real man in this town can do better.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Ruben,” Rouge snapped. “Even if that were true, and it never was, it clearly isn’t true anymore.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Rouge,” Ruben said. “What are you—?”

“Don’t do something stupid just because you can’t look down on Jaune as completely as you used to,” Rouge said.

Ruben stared at her for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he stomped out of the dining room. Pyrrha could hear his footsteps thumping on the staircase.

“Jaune,” Rouge said, with a sigh in her voice. “I’m sorry, I … I should have done more to stop him from picking on you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaune said.

“Yeah, it does,” Rouge replied. “But thank you anyway.”

“Pyrrha’s right,” Mister Arc said. “If hunting grimm were something that anyone could do, then nobody would need to go to places like Beacon to be trained as huntsmen.”

“But even if we hire a huntsman,” Kendal said. “One huntsman, on their own … one huntsman can’t protect people who don’t know how to protect themselves. At least, there’s only one way that they can do that, and I … I don’t want anyone … I don’t want them to die for me.”

Pyrrha drew closer to her, placing one hand upon Kendal’s shoulder. “Not all huntsmen work alone,” she said. “Some continue to work in teams, even after graduation, so that they can protect one another; others work in pairs, even if not in fours; and a graduated huntsman could advise you on what defences to set up, if any, and what else to do. I do believe that bringing in a professional is your best course of action.”

She wasn’t sure, admittedly, what Rouge would make of that, but since she couldn’t divulge the existence of Rouge’s magic, then she had to give the advice that she would have given to any other community. If she had suggested doing nothing, as Sky seemed to be doing, then it would have seemed inexplicably strange.

“I’ll speak to the mayor about it in the morning,” Sky said.

“That’s a good idea,” Mister Arc said. “But, since it isn’t morning yet, I think that we should all go back to bed, try to get a little more rest, and don’t panic, okay? It never makes anything better, and especially not this.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Saphron said. “Hopefully Terra’s managed to get Adrian back to sleep.”

“Did we wake him?” Kendal asked.

“You woke everyone.”

Sky winced. “Sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Saphron said. “Goodnight, everyone.”

“Goodnight, Saphron!'' everyone chorused.

Everyone bid one another goodnight, not usually using names, just tossing out the word as applicable to everyone, as they made their way towards the stairs. Pyrrha was the last one up, walking side by side with Jaune at the rear of the slow-moving herd of Arcs.

They climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of Kendal’s room.

The doorway was open, and Kendal was already lying down upon the camp bed.

Pyrrha stopped, and Jaune stopped also, turning to face her and reaching out to take her hands in his.

“You know,” he said softly. “I … I didn’t get to give you a kiss goodnight before.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed, her voice slipping a little into coyness, even as a smile pricked at her lips. “No, you didn’t.”

Jaune hesitated for a moment, standing there, a smile on his face, a light in his eyes, then he leaned forwards and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, a gentle kiss, a mere brush of his lips against hers, but it was enough.

It was a kiss goodnight. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend at the door.

It was more than enough. It was wonderful.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” Pyrrha whispered.

She half stepped into Kendal’s room, but watched him as he turned away.

Pyrrha put her hands upon the doorframe and let out a sigh.

She heard a snort from behind her.

Pyrrha turned around, closing the door, to see Kendal, lying on the camp bed, watching her out of one open eye.

“I … I suppose you must think I’m a very foolish girl,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I would never be so judgemental,” Kendal declared. “Are you happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Pyrrha said, putting Miló and Akoúo̱ back in her case before sitting down on the bed.

“And is Jaune happy?”

“I hope so,” Pyrrha said as she started to take off her boots. “I hope so very much.”

“Then who cares what I think?” Kendal asked. She rolled over, presenting her back to Pyrrha. “Sleep tight.”

The next morning, Pyrrha got out of the borrowed bed and started to pull on her boots.

Kendal opened her eyes. “Going somewhere in your PJs?” she asked.

“I thought I might go for a quick run before getting a shower,” Pyrrha murmured. “If you have a shower, that is.”

“Yeah, there’s a shower,” Kendal assured her. “But a run sounds like a good idea. I’ll join you, if you don’t mind the company?”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha replied, and she waited for Kendal to pull on a pair of white trainers and lead the way out of the room, moving quietly down the corridor.

Sky stepped out of her bedroom door — like Kendal’s door, it was marked by a childish sign that looked like it had been there since she was a little girl — to bar their way.

“Where are you two off to?” she asked.

“Just for a jog,” Kendal replied.

Sky glanced from Kendal to Pyrrha. “Is it okay if I come with you?” she asked.

“Um, no, that would be fine,” Pyrrha said.

She could hardly refuse, after all, having agreed with Sky that they could have a fresh start. She did not wish to refuse; she wanted the fresh start with Sky, she wanted the good opinion of Jaune’s sisters, his family. She wanted them to think that Jaune’s heart was in good hands with her.

Safe hands, at least.

“I mean,” she added, “it’s fine by me.”

“And me,” Kendal said, although she sounded a little weary about the whole thing. “Come on, get your shoes on.”

Sky disappeared back into her bedroom and reappeared just a little while later wearing a pair of black boots, but also with a pair of dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt thrown on in place of her sky blue pyjamas.

The three of them descended the stairs, Kendal leading, then Pyrrha, then Sky bringing up the rear. The dining room was deserted, with no sign or sound that anyone in the Arc house was awake apart from the three of them.

If Kendal and Sky hadn’t volunteered to go with her, then Pyrrha would have asked Jaune if he wanted to join her, but she wondered now if there was something the two sisters wished to discuss with her — something about Jaune, perhaps. And besides, if he couldn’t sleep in a little at his own childhood home, then where could he?

And so, the three of them stole out of the house, much as Pyrrha and Jaune had stolen out of the house the night before, although they set off in the opposite direction as Kendal led the way not towards the ruined McKinley house, but southwards, towards the other end of the village.

Alba Longa was quiet; evidently, the Arc family — most of them at least — were not the only ones who had yet to wake from slumber and greet the morn. The houses were quiet, the doors were closed, the shops had ‘closed’ signs up in their windows, those that had shutters over the windows had them down; there was no one out and about. There were a few animals woken up — the goats were back at it, disturbing the gardens and ruining the flower beds; there were a few birds already beginning to sing in the trees — but for the most part, Alba Longa was quiet.

Alba Longa was quiet, and so, the world seemed quiet as Pyrrha, Kendal, and Sky ran through the sleeping village, passing the quaint shops and the wooden houses, passing close by the shore of the silver lake that was starting to glimmer in the red light of the dawn, heading up towards the railway station, where the tracks were quiet and there was no sign of a train.

Kendal ran as though she were holding herself back, as though there was an instinct in her to sprint as fast as she could which she was actively resisting. From what she had told Pyrrha, such an instinct made perfect sense. Sky, on the other hand, was only jogging, not taxing herself too much, keeping a steady pace but not a taxing one. This was definitely light exercise for her, nothing too heavy.

Pyrrha found herself in between the two of them; she could have gone faster, but did not because it would have been bad form to have raced off and left Sky in the dust, but at the same time, she felt no desire to run with everything she had and tire herself. Even if she was getting a shower later, there was no point in working up too much of a sweat. Apart from anything else, she only had the one pair of pyjamas with her, and it would be a fine thing if they started to stink.

Besides, a more sedate pace allowed her once again to marvel at the quiet beauty of Alba Longa; no wonder the people had been caught so by surprise by a sudden grimm incursion; in the light of the morning, it seemed incredible that the events of the night had happened at all. Surely, it had all been some shared hallucination, a dream experienced by many people all at once.

Would that it were the case.

At the railway station — deserted and empty, of course — they turned back, passing near to the tree where Jaune and Pyrrha had sat for a while before making the final journey to his home and coming to a stop beneath the equestrian statue in the centre of the town, of the warrior with the sword that looked so like Crocea Mors.

“Your ancestor, I take it?” Pyrrha asked as she looked up at the statue. There was no plaque on the plinth, no name, but clearly, the statue was of someone’s ancestor, and the sword was very suggestive.

Sky nodded. “Bohemund Arc,” she said. “He founded this town, one hundred and twenty … three years ago.”

“'One hundred and twenty-three'?” Pyrrha repeated. “That’s quite specific.”

“Sky isn’t just the sheriff,” Kendal explained. “She’s also the town historian.”

“Don’t say that; you make me sound like a nerd,” Sky said sharply.

Kendal shrugged. “If it walks like a duck.”

“This is our family story,” Sky declared. “We should know it, take pride in it, not let it be forgotten.”

Pyrrha thought about her mother and her desire — self-serving and rooted in sheer snobbery though it was — to find out more about Jaune’s heritage, to which end Sunset would be arriving in Alba Longa at some point to research it. “Where did he come from, before he founded Alba Longa?”

Sky scratched the back of her head. “I don’t actually know,” she admitted. “And as far as I know, nobody does. The town records only go back as far as the town itself, or at least, I think they do. I find this stuff interesting, but I don’t have all day to spend sifting through all the records, so … it’s not like I know everything about the history of Alba Longa; I do have a job to do after all. The only thing I can really tell you is that Crocea Mors is older than the town is. Or it was older, before it broke.”

“It can be forged anew,” Pyrrha said gently.

“But will it be the same sword afterwards?” Sky replied.

“What matters,” Pyrrha said, “is not the sword but what is done with the sword: what cause it fights for, who it defends.”

Sky was silent for a moment, before she said, “I guess I can’t really argue with that.” She paused for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Why are you called huntsmen and huntresses?” Sky inquired. “Why aren’t you just called ‘hunters’?”

“That’s your question?” Kendal demanded.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Sky replied.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No, but since Pyrrha’s here, she might as well answer it if she can.”

“Why don’t you just ask Dad?”

“What’s wrong with me asking Pyrrha?”

“I’m afraid that you might have to ask the Last King of Vale for a true answer as to what he was thinking when he founded the Academies and set up the system of huntsmen and huntresses,” Pyrrha said, “but, speaking for myself, I think that the answer must lie in the old stories, the fairy tales of Vale that speak of heroes battling against monsters.”

It was interesting to reflect on what huntsmen and huntresses might have been called if one of the other kingdoms had taken the lead in establishing the academy system. If Mistral had founded the four schools, would their graduates be called charioteers? Shepherds of the People? Simply heroes, nothing more or less?

“Those heroes,” she went on to the two sisters, “are referred to as huntsmen and huntresses, I believe, just as I believe — if only because it is the most appealing explanation — that the Last King wished to recapture some of that flavour, that ancient glamour from long ago. Hunter is a simpler name, to be sure, but … it is very prosaic; it stirs no trumpet in the soul. What we do … we battle against creatures utterly without soul, creatures of pure malice; they are the darkness, and we are the light, or at least, we are light’s guardians. That deserves, or at least it can support, a name out of storybook fable, don’t you think?”

Kendal snorted. “You’re a romantic through and through, aren’t you?”

Pyrrha let out a slight laugh. “I hope you don’t mind if I take that as a compliment,” she said.

Kendal grinned. “Jaune … has a touch of that himself, I think. He couldn’t have said all that so eloquently as you, of course, but … I think he feels it.”

“He’s very romantic,” Pyrrha assured her.

Sky rolled her eyes. “Why do you want to do this?” she asked.

“Do what?” replied Pyrrha, requesting clarification.

“Hunting things, fighting monsters,” Sky explained. “Risking your life?”

“Sky—” Kendal began.

Sky held up one hand. “I’m not going to criticise, I’m not going to judge,” she insisted. “It’s just … we all know that Jaune had no idea what he was doing when he ran off to that school, right? Like it or not, we can both agree that he didn’t make a considered, rational decision with all the facts at his disposal, right?”

Kendal was quiet for a moment. “Okay, yes, you’ve got a point.”

“So,” Sky said, “I would like to hear from someone who walked into this with their eyes open, knowing all the facts, as to why they did it. If that’s okay with you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, looking from one Arc sister to the other. She looked upwards, away from both of them, up at the statue of Jaune’s ancestor upon his noble steed, sword raised up to the sky.

She clasped her hands together before her. “I…” she began again, and trailed off once more just as she had done before.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know,” Sky muttered.

“I am … not certain anymore,” Pyrrha murmured.

She felt Kendal’s hand upon her shoulder. “Not anymore?” Kendal repeated. “Has something changed?”

Jaune, Pyrrha thought, though she almost feared to admit it so baldly. If they thought her romantic now, then what would they think if they found out that her feelings for Jaune threatened to undo her courage? She and Kendal had spoken last night of whether or not she would rather that Jaune did not fight and risk his life, but Kendal had not asked — perhaps she had not thought it needed asking — whether or not Pyrrha would rather not fight herself.

It would not have been a question, not too long ago. But now … was it weak, or dishonourable, that knowing all she did of the threat that confronted the world nevertheless, that her unbounded affection for Jaune Arc should struggle in fierce contest with her sense of duty?

Summer Rose had died young; Pyrrha had reminded Sunset of as much before she and Jaune set out for Alba Longa. Summer Rose had died young, and so might Pyrrha Nikos, so might Jaune Arc, and so she wished to live and love in the days that she possessed, to demonstrate her love for and commitment to him. So she had said, and so she had felt. So she still felt. It was no ignoble struggle in which they were engaged, and to fall in it would likewise be no ignoble sacrifice.

As it is, ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid. That being so, let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves.

And yet…

And yet…

Her feelings for Jaune wound about her like mighty cables, binding her to him so strongly that only the gods themselves could break that bond, and yet, her sense of duty, her Mistralian honour, her destiny came over her like a strong wind and sought to blow her with all those cables towards the battlefield.

And there were times it felt as though she was being pulled in two.

“Ever … ever since I was old enough to understand, I’ve understood, I’ve always thought that I had a destiny,” she began.

“High opinion of yourself,” Sky murmured. “I guess being told you’re awesome will do that to you.”

“I thought you were being nice now?” Kendal demanded.

“I am being nice,” Sky replied. “I’m also being honest.”

“My destiny is … I’m not talking about fate,” Pyrrha explained. “I’m not talking about portents or prophecies or a voice from the heavens descending down to proclaim great glory in my future … that would be very vain and rather arrogant of me, I agree. What I mean is … a final goal, something to which I’ve devoted my whole life, a path to walk, a light to guide me in the darkness of uncertainty. My lodestar, you might say. My destiny is to become a huntress, to … to defend places like this and people like you from the perils that surround it. But…”

Neither Sky nor Kendal said anything. They waited, patiently, for her to speak.

“Going to Beacon was the next step on the road towards my destiny,” Pyrrha said. “Except … except that something happened that I didn’t expect, something that feels as though it could stand between me and my destiny.”

“You could just say ‘Jaune,’ you know,” Kendal pointed out. “We’re his sisters; we’re not going to get offended.”

“Well—”

“We’re not going to get offended,” Kendal repeated heavily. “Or upset in any way.”

Sky smirked, then her smirk turned into a genuine smile. “So you love him, and because you love him, you’re not certain that you want to give your life, basically?”

“I … yes, I suppose that’s it, at heart,” Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. “Many of the great heroes of Mistral went to ends far more certain — and far more certainly ill-fated — than any that confronts me presently, and they did so leaving behind spouses and children whom they loved.” They must go, that was the heroic theme that resounded from the deathless verses of The Mistraliad and other such epics. They must go. “I have begun to wonder if they would not rather have remained.”

“I don’t know about your Mistralian heroes, but I don’t see that there’s any shame in it,” Sky said. “It’s why Dad quit after Rouge was born.”

“Only problem is that Jaune seems to have his heart set on this,” Kendal pointed out.

Pyrrha smiled, and a slight chuckle escaped. “I know,” she said. “And so, can I ask that you don’t mention this to him? He doesn’t need to know; trust me, I’ve no intention of quitting on him.”

It was comforting, in a way; she could waver in spirit all that she wanted without it ever really meaning anything, because even if she wished to forsake her destiny, to make Jaune her new lodestar, then he wished to walk the path regardless. He would be her courage, if need be.

“He won’t hear about it from us,” Kendal assured her. “Will he?” she demanded.

“Of course not,” Sky declared. “Anyway, we should probably start back, or else we’ll miss breakfast.”

They returned to the Arc house fairly swiftly, where Rouge was already up and starting to set the table for breakfast, laying out cutlery at the table.

She looked up as they came in. “Been out for a run?” she asked.

“Yep,” Kendal said.

“And you’re all still alive, that’s good,” Rouge murmured dryly. “We’re still the first ones out of bed so, Pyrrha, why don’t you go jump in the shower first before everyone else gets up while you two help me set the table?”

Kendal nodded. “See you in a little bit, Pyrrha.”

“Um, would one of you mind showing me where the shower is?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Sorry,” Rouge said. “Kendal, go and show Pyrrha where the bathroom is, then come down and help me set the table.”

Kendal led the way back upstairs, and as Rouge had said, it was still pretty quiet up there, with bedroom doors closed and no sounds coming from within. The bathroom lay at the far end of the corridor, past all the bedrooms, and was a spacious room with a free-standing bath and a separate shower cubicle, with the walls covered in tiles of a moderate, neutral blue. A sign hung on the door, a sign which was reversed when they first arrived, but which Kendal flipped around to reveal that it was informing all men — originally, it appeared to have said ‘Jaune,’ but that had been crossed out in favour of a more all-encompassing term — to stay in their rooms.

Next door was the airing cupboard, from which Kendal fetched Pyrrha some guest towels despite her protestations that she had brought her own towels.

“Enjoy,” Kendal said.

And so it was simply a matter of taking her boots off and fetching her toiletries out of her case, and Pyrrha could close the door, step into the shower, and let the water flow through her long red hair and down her back.

It felt as though it was washing away the troubles of the evening before. At that time, it had felt as though this visit might be a complete disaster, but now? Now, the hostility of Sky was at an end, and that of Rouge too, it seemed. Now if she could only win over his parents and Violet, then everything would be perfect, and that … well, she didn’t feel as though that would be nearly as difficult a struggle as Jaune had faced with her mother.

Yes, as the water fell down her, Pyrrha felt very content. She might have started humming, but she didn’t want to swallow anything.

She did, however, start to hum softly to herself as she stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with the towels that Kendal had loaned to her.

She was still humming as, one towel wrapped around her body and the other around her head, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Ruben was waiting on the other side of the door.

“Morning,” he said, smiling down at her.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured, coming to a stop just before she walked into him. “Good morning.”

Ruben stared down at her for a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary — making Pyrrha rather conscious of the fact that this towel barely extended below her hips — before he looked away. “My apologies, I must have missed the sign on the door.”

“That’s quite all right,” Pyrrha said, very softly, barely louder than a whisper. “But if you’ll excuse me…” She walked briskly past him, down the corridor in the direction of Kendal’s room.

“Is he paying you?” Ruben asked.

Pyrrha came to a stop. One hand was clutching the towel around her body. The other clenched into a fist.

There were some Mistralians who would have responded to the implications of that — if he was, indeed, implying what Pyrrha thought he was implying — with a challenge to a duel to the death; Pyrrha considered herself to be of a milder temperament, but she had her limits nonetheless.

She did not turn back to face him, but rather, with her back to him, she said, “Perhaps you had better explain what you mean by that.” Her voice was as soft as ever, but it had gotten a fair few degrees colder if he was paying attention.

“Is little Jauney paying you to come here and play at being his girlfriend?” Ruben elaborated. “Is he paying you to lie for him to try and impress everybody?”

That was not what Pyrrha had thought he had been saying, but the fact that Ruben was not, in fact, calling her a member of the Companions’ Guild, didn’t make what he was actually saying easy to bear.

Still, she did not turn to face him, and her voice did not warm. “I’m not pretending anything. I am … I am his, as he is mine.”

Ruben was silent for a moment. “Why?” he demanded. “What could you possibly—”

“I doubt that you could understand, Mister Meade Arc, even if I were inclined to explain it to you,” Pyrrha declared, her voice brittle. “In any case, this is hardly the appropriate circumstances for this or any other sort of conversation, if you will excuse me.”

She began to walk once more, quickening her step yet further, remaining just on the right side of running as she made her way down the corridor and into Kendal’s room.

She shut the door behind her and breathed in and out deeply. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breathing.

Pyrrha closed her eyes for a moment.

Evidently, last night had not smoothed over all obstacles in her way.

It occurred to her that, perhaps, she had been too harsh, too sour; if Ruben chose to talk about it, Rouge might take it the wrong way and take against Pyrrha once again. But then she remembered that Rouge had been the one to snap at him last night.

Perhaps, if he did choose to make an issue of it, they would understand. Jaune’s father had had a Mistralian teammate, and although it seemed that he had been less than fond of her Mistralian manners, perhaps he still remembered the importance of Mistralian honour.

Perhaps. She hoped.

She hoped most of all that Ruben, chastened, would not mention it.

Pyrrha consciously sought to recover her earlier good mood; it was a pity that Jaune’s brother-in-law seemed to dislike him, but so long as he was the only one in the family that was … well, it wasn’t for her to say whether it was manageable for Jaune or not, but she hoped it was. She would give him whatever he needed to support him if it was not, but she hoped it was.

And she still had reasons for good cheer; she had won over Sky, and Mister Arc did not seem ill disposed towards her.

Today was a new day, and many good things might lie in store. She could not let Ruben Meade Arc get her down.

She was visiting Jaune’s family. Jaune had invited her to visit his family.

And some of them, at least, found her suitable.

If that was not reason to wear a smile and put all gloomy thoughts to one side for now, then what was?

Of course, it was not enough to wear a smile; she had to wear something else too, and not these towels either, and so Pyrrha swooped down upon her luggage and began giving thought to what to wear.

She wanted to make a good impression, of course; or rather, she wanted to continue leaving a good impression on those who were well disposed towards her. She wanted to be herself; that was why she had packed as she had, with her own clothes and not with the products of a last-minute shopping trip to some fast-fashion outlet. She wanted them to know … she would have said that she wanted them to know who Pyrrha Nikos was, but that might be a little much to extrapolate from a wardrobe; she wanted them, at least, to know her tastes: elegant, feminine, lovely to look upon.

And yet, she felt as though wearing something too fancy during the day might be a little inappropriate; such things could wait until the evening, when they were more proper.

At the same time, of course, she wanted to look pretty for Jaune, if at all possible.

Considering all these things, taking these factors into account, Pyrrha chose a gown of red, darker at the top and shading into lighter hues the further down her body it fell.

Her gown was really in two parts. Bodice and skirt alike were one, the gown being shoulderless, albeit with a high back that revealed little below her shoulder blades; it had a sweetheart neckline, trimmed with gold, and the bodice hugged the curves of her figure closely as it descended; Pyrrha bound her crimson sash around her waist, although she did not use the disc bearing her emblem to secure it there but merely tied it off in place. The skirt fell at the back below her ankles, but at the sides and especially before her, the hem ascended to expose more of her feet and legs to view; there was a slit at the front that would have exposed a great deal indeed if it were not for the underskirt of pale pink, itself dropping lower at the back and higher at the front, that emerged from out beneath the skirt and concealed her knees and thighs from view.

On her arms and shoulders, Pyrrha wore a maroon bolero, its long sleeves embracing her arms down to past the wrists, covering all of her back and shoulders that her gown did not while leaving a little at the front exposed to view. The bolero fastened tightly about her throat with a large emerald brooch about the size of a chicken egg, while three smaller emeralds dangled from it to rest coolly upon her bare skin. Pyrrha wore her honour band over her sleeve and set her gleaming golden circlet on her brow, although she did not bother to bind her up her hair, letting it hang loose behind her down past her waist.

Upon her feet, she wore a pair of black, high-heeled pumps, with black straps that wound upwards around her feet and ankles.

There was no mirror in Kendal’s room to check her appearance, and the little hand mirror in her compact that Pyrrha used to check that she had applied her eyeshadow correctly was nowhere near large enough, but nevertheless, Pyrrha thought that she had done well.

Hopefully, she wasn’t the only one to think so.

She fussed with her skirt for a moment, smoothing it out, adjusting the lie of the underskirt, making sure that she was comfortable with what could be seen, before she stepped out of Kendal’s room and into the corridor.

Once more, she nearly walked into a man; fortunately, this time, it turned out to be Jaune, wearing his onesie and slippers.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped back from bumping into him. She smiled. “Good morning, Jaune.” This time, Pyrrha took the initiative, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss upon the corner of his mouth.

Jaune’s cheeks began to light up. A little laugh escaped his mouth before he said, “Good morning. Did you sleep well, I mean, as well as you could considering—?”

“I slept … very contentedly,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you. And you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Jaune said. He paused for a moment. “You’re all ready?”

“Yes, I think I managed to get in the shower before anyone else, except maybe Rouge.”

“Well, you look … how’d I ever get so lucky?”

“Kindness,” Pyrrha said softly, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “Consideration. Understanding.” She squeezed his hands. “And a pair of beautiful blue eyes didn’t hurt either.”

Jaune looked down at their hands, his held in hers, before he looked up into her eyes once more. “Do you want to go down and get something to eat?”

“Aren’t you going to get ready first?”

“I’ll do it after,” Jaune told her. “It’s a lot easier if we take it in turns.”

“I understand,” Pyrrha said. “Then I would love to.”

They were hand in hand as they walked down the stairs, emerging into the dining room to see the table almost made up. Unlike dinner the night before, there was no table cloth in evidence, but there were place settings, and much like the night before, bowls of food — fresh fruit, grapefruit, yoghurt, muesli — was laid out in the centre of the table, along with several glass jugs full of different coloured juices.

Rouge Arc was polishing a glass as Pyrrha and Jaune came down.

“Jaune!” she groaned.

“Good morning to you too, Rouge,” Jaune replied.

Rouge rolled her eyes a little. “Good morning, Jaune,” she said perfunctorily. “Now, Jaune!”

“What?” Jaune asked, a little laughter in his voice.

“What are you wearing?” Rouge demanded.

“The same thing I’ve worn to bed for years, my Pumpkin Pete onesie,” Jaune said.

“Still haven’t got rid of that thing, huh?” Sky asked. She had a cup of something in her hand that she was sipping from.

“Why would I? It’s really comfortable.”

“The defender of mankind,” Sky muttered.

“It’s not about the onesie,” Rouge declared. “Not about the onesie in isolation, anyway. It’s about … how can you dress like that when Pyrrha is dressed like that?”

She put down the glass and gestured with one hand towards Pyrrha, her red gown and maroon bolero.

Pyrrha looked away. The last thing that she had wanted to do was embarrass Jaune. “I’m sorry, I should have realised that I’d be over—”

“It’s not your fault, Pyrrha,” Rouge assured her. “It’s nice to have someone with some class and elegance around the house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Kendal.

“I think you can guess,” Rouge said. “Anyway, Pyrrha, breakfast around here is a little more informal than dinner; people drift down when they want to, pretty much, so sit down, help yourself. Would you like anything, pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs? I’ll just dive into the kitchen and whip them up for you.”

“No, thank you,” Pyrrha said as she and Jaune sat down side by side about halfway down the table. “I wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Rouge assured her. “Dad will want a cooked breakfast, I’m sure, and Aoko needs one because she forgets lunch more often than not.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Pyrrha said. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself,” Rouge said. “Baby brother? Since we only have you for a few days, I suppose you should be treated like a guest as well.”

“Uh, I’ll have some pancakes?” Jaune half-said, half-asked.

Rouge smiled. “Coming right up,” she said, turning away and walking through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Sky took another sip out of her cup. “You want some coffee, Pyrrha?”

“No, thank you,” Pyrrha said, reaching for the jug of grapefruit juice.

“You don’t have to be nervous about saying yes,” Kendal assured her. “We wouldn’t offer if we weren’t willing to do it.”

That may have been true, but it didn’t mean that Pyrrha wanted to start treating Jaune’s sisters like the help.

She heard a rapid pitter-patter of feet coming down the stairs and looked around to see Violet leapt down into the dining room. She must have gotten showered already, because she was wearing a purple dress over a white blouse.

“Good morning, Jaune!” she said brightly, greeting him with a smile.

Jaune smiled at her. “Morning, Violet.”

Violet took a seat at the table opposite Jaune, before regarding Pyrrha with a distinctly frosty gaze. “You’re still here,” she declared.

Jaune sighed. “Violet, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Violet asked.

“Be nice to Pyrrha, okay?” Jaune asked. “Please? For me?”

Violet folded her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s alright,” Pyrrha said, putting a hand on Jaune’s arm.

“No,” Jaune said, “it isn’t.”

The sound of shambling footsteps preceded the arrival of Aoko Arc, back hunched over, hair dishevelled, wearing the same ill-fitting t-shirt and shorts that she’d been wearing at dinner the night before. She had one hand against the wall, as if she needed it for support.

“Morning,” she moaned.

“Morning,” Kendal murmured. “How late did you stay up last night?”

“You know the time when everyone got up and started talking really loud downstairs?”

“Uh huh,” Kendal said.

“I stayed up until after that,” Aoko said dully. She approached the table, arms swinging slightly back and forth as they fell down in front of her. “I’d like three sausages—”

“Hang on, Rouge is in the kitchen right now,” Sky told her.

“Oh, right,” Aoko said.

She just about managed to reach the seat next to Pyrrha and sat down. She sat there for a moment, staring into the ether, and only then did she seem to notice that Pyrrha was there beside her.

She looked at Pyrrha and blinked owlishly. “Hello,” she said. “You’re new.”

“Actually, she was here last night,” Kendal pointed out.

Aoko blinked again. “You … who are you?”

“I’m Pyrrha Nikos,” Pyrrha said. “I’m here with Jaune.”

“She’s Jaune’s girlfriend,” Kendal clarified in a sing-song voice.

“'Girlfriend,'” Aoko repeated, slowly, as though she were mulling the word over with her tongue. She looked at Kendal. “We had a bet—”

“Yes, yes, we did,” Kendal said. “And we lost; River won.”

Aoko frowned. “Who did I pick again?”

“The kid in the red cape,” Kendal said. “I told you she was too young-looking. Can I just ask, is she actually that young, or does she just look it?”

“That’s Ruby,” Jaune explained. “She’s only fifteen.”

“'Fifteen'?” Kendal repeated. “Then what’s she doing at Beacon?”

“She was let in early,” Aoko said.

Jaune looked at her. “Did Twilight tell you that?”

“No, it was obvious,” Aoko replied. “She’s too young to get in, ergo, she must have been let in early.” She paused for a moment. “Congratulations, by the way. Is it pretty cool, having a girlfriend?”

Jaune chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.”

“Welcome to the family,” Aoko said, her words emerging in fits and starts out of her mouth. “There is a lot of yelling.”

The doors to the kitchen swung open again, and Rouge emerged, carrying a plate with three pancakes sitting on it. “Here you go, Jaune,” she said, setting the plate down in front of him. “Morning, Vi; morning, Aoko.”

“I’d like three sausages,” Aoko began.

“Morning, y’all,” Chester greeted them as he and River came down the stairs; he was wearing a faded rock band t-shirt and a pair of shorts, while River was wearing a blue blouse with puffed sleeves and an ankle-length skirt of matching colour, with a lighter blue sash around her waist tied into a bow at the back of her waist.

“Morning,” Rouge greeted them.

“You didn’t call Chester out for not being dressed as well as River,” Jaune pointed out as he spread some butter on his pancakes; it started to melt almost instantly.

“She’s given up all hope for me,” Chester said.

“That may or may not be true,” River added, “but Chester is not wearing a Pumpkin Pete…” She trailed off.

Chester put one arm around her. “Honey?”

River walked away without another word, pushing the kitchen doors open and disappearing inside.

“River?” Rouge called. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” River said, although it was not just her voice that emerged from the kitchen, but the sound of things falling and rattling as well.

“Are you sure?” Sky demanded. “It sounds like—”

“I will put everything back eventually,” River insisted. “I just need to find something. It’s in here somewhere.”

“What is, honey?” Chester asked. “Are you having cravings?”

“No, I’m not having cravings.”

“'Cravings'?” Jaune repeated. “Why would River be having cravings?”

“Good morning, everyone,” Saphron said as she and Terra came down into the dining room. They were both dressed, Saphron wearing a brown bomber jacket with a fur lining over a burnt orange turtleneck, and Terra was wearing a blue summer dress with puffed shoulders and dark blue jeans under her short skirt.

“Good morning,” Pyrrha said, turning to look at them. She gasped, a smile spreading across her face. “And who is this?” she cooed, her voice taking on a breathless affect, every word exaggeratedly drawn out.

Because in Terra’s arms, she was holding a little boy with a soft round face and plenty of baby fat still in his cheeks. He looked far more like Terra’s son than Saphron’s — he had her skin tone, her brown eyes, and her black hair, cut shortish and looking very soft as it fell down across his forehead and covered one of his eyebrows — and Pyrrha remembered what Terra had said about giving the family their first grandchild. He was dressed in a white and blue striped shirt, his little hands emerging from out of the sleeves, with dark blue overalls on over the top and white and grey socks enclosing his little feet.

“This is Adrian,” Terra said, bouncing Adrian up and down in her arms a little, making him gurgle happily, “our son.”

“Aww,” Jaune said. “I haven’t seen him since he was just a baby.”

“He still is half a baby,” Saphron said, and Adrian seemed to understand that, since he seemed to pout upon hearing it. “But he’s a baby who can recognise faces now, so, Adrian, why don’t you meet your Uncle Jaune?”

Jaune got up, leaving the butter to melt into his pancakes as he crossed the short distance separating him from Saphron and Terra. He bent down, stooping so that he was level with Adrian’s face rather than looming over him.

“Hey, there, little guy,” he said, in much the same breathless, half-whispery, half-excited voice that Pyrrha had used when she first caught sight of him. “I’m your cool Uncle Jaune!”

“Well, you’re half right,” Sky muttered.

Jaune ignored her, carrying on, “And when you’re older, you can come to me for advice about anything.”

He beamed and waggled one finger in front of Adrian’s face.

Adrian grinned and chuckled, but he ignored Jaune’s finger and instead reached out across the short distance separating their faces to grab a strand of Jaune’s hair from his fringe.

“Hey!” Jaune squawked, while Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a little giggle escaped from between her lips.

Adrian laughed as well, even as he let Jaune go.

Jaune straightened up. “He’s got a grip on him already,” he said.

“Be nice to Uncle Jaune, Adrian,” Saphron chided her son, “and be grateful you don’t have any older sisters.”

She and Terra — still carrying Adrian — walked around the table, and as they did so, Adrian waved to Pyrrha, making indistinct and wordless noises as he passed.

“Hello!” Pyrrha said, waving back to him. “My name’s Pyrrha; it’s nice to meet you!”

Adrian cried out something which, though it made no sense, certainly sounded cheerful.

“I think he likes you,” Saphron said.

“He’s got a good sense for people,” Terra added with a wink at Pyrrha.

“Is he eating solid food already?” Jaune asked. “How old is he now? He can’t be more than—”

“Almost two,” Saphron said.

“What’s up with the war in the kitchen?” Terra asked.

Rouge winced as something crashed in the kitchen. “River is … well, we don’t rightly know what River’s doing.”

Jaune began, “What was that you were saying about—?”

“I KNEW IT!” River yelled. A moment later, she stomped out of the kitchen, and in one hand, she was holding a box of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes.

With Pyrrha’s face on the box.

Jaune whimpered wordlessly as River strode around the table.

She reached through the gap between Pyrrha and Aoko to slam the box down onto the table next to Pyrrha.

“What do you think of that?” she demanded.

Judging by the way he reached towards the box with both hands, what Adrian thought was that he wanted some cereal.

Aoko bent down and craned her head around the box. “Huh,” she said. “That girl on the box looks like you, Pyrrha.”

“It is Pyrrha!” River cried. “Pyrrha is the girl on the cereal box!”

A chorus of ohs and oohs followed from the Arcs.

Sky folded her arms. “You really are a bigshot, aren’t you? They only put huge celebrities and cartoon characters on cereal boxes.”

Pyrrha felt her smile becoming fused to her face. “I suppose you could say that.”

“So how did you manage it?” Sky asked.

“I told you all last night,” Terra said. “She won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row, the only person in the tournament’s history to win that often, let alone consecutively.”

“How old is the tournament?” inquired Kendal.

Terra’s eyes narrowed. “Hundreds of years?”

“The first tournament that can be historically proven took place eight hundred and sixty years ago,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although there are scholars who insist that there is evidence of it being much older, and of course, it descends from earlier forms of entertainment.”

“That,” Aoko said, “is a very long time.”

“You said it, Aoko,” Kendal replied.

Saphron glanced at Terra. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Terra said.

“You know,” Saphron said, “communication is the key to a successful marriage.”

Terra smiled. “Then let me communicate to you that I’m not going to spill all of Pyrrha’s secrets to you; if Pyrrha wants to tell you, then she can; if not, then she doesn’t have to.”

“But it might be important,” Saphron declared.

“If I knew that Pyrrha had … killed someone in a match, then of course I’d tell you,” Terra said, “but what difference does it really make whether her face is on a cereal box or not?”

“Terra makes a very good point,” Rouge pronounced. “It does feel a little strange, having one of the mascots of Pumpkin Pete be a guest in our home — and Jaune’s girlfriend, what is more — but the fact of the matter is that Pyrrha remains, first and foremost, Jaune’s girlfriend.”

“First and foremost and only, please,” Pyrrha pleaded softly. “To tell the truth, I was rather glad when none of you noticed.”

“Fine by me,” Violet said. “That cereal’s for children anyway.”

“This isn’t about Pyrrha,” River insisted.

“It’s not?” Aoko asked.

“Obviously, it’s a little bit about Pyrrha,” River admitted. “But do none of you remember? Jaune brought like fifty boxes of this stupid cereal to get that hoodie! And most of them had Pyrrha’s face on them — even though, at the time, we didn’t know that it was Pyrrha — and—”

“And we teased him that he’d fallen for the girl on the box!” Kendal cried. She clapped her hands together and laughed delightedly. “Oh my God, that is—”

“Hilarious,” Sky said.

“I was going to say incredible,” Kendal said, “but that too.” A grin blossomed across her face. “And to think that you tried to deny it at the time.”

Jaune pushed his plate of pancakes away, the better to slam his head down onto the table and let out a wordless groan.

“If you’re not going to eat those pancakes, then give them here,” Aoko said, “I’m starving.”

“Oh, come on, Jaune,” River said, patting him on the back. “You have to let us have this; this is … this is too much. I mean, you fell in love with the girl on the Pumpkin Pete’s cereal box.”

“I did not fall in love with … okay, I did fall in love with the girl on the cereal box, but it’s not the way you make it sound,” Jaune said, turning his head so that Pyrrha could see his face and his voice could escape away from the table.

Pyrrha put one hand upon his arm. “It isn’t how you all seem to think.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rouge said. “Falling in love with a girl based on her picture on a box, that’s storybook twaddle. I’d lose a lot of respect for any girl who went out with a boy on that kind of basis, even if that boy was my own brother.”

“You can rest easy then,” Pyrrha assured her. “As I say, like you, Jaune had completely forgotten about me, or at least, he didn’t recognise me when he met me in person.” She felt her cheeks flush a little, and she couldn’t resist adding. “He told me it was because I was so much prettier in person.”

“Aww,” the female Arcs — save for Violet and Aoko — chorused, whether sincerely or mockingly, Pyrrha couldn’t tell.

“You always were a sweetheart, Jaune,” Kendal said.

River took a seat next to Jaune. Chester took the seat opposite her.

“So,” River said, “how did you two end up together?”

“Yeah,” Sky said, leaning forwards on the table. “I mean … Jaune, you’re my brother, so I love you, and Pyrrha, I like you a lot better than I did last night, but I have to ask, I think we all have to ask … how? Why?”

“Why does everyone feel the need to ask that?” Pyrrha asked in turn, allowing a touch of weariness to enter into her voice.

Kendal’s eyes narrowed. “Who else has asked?”

“Ruben,” Pyrrha said, “as I was coming out of the bathroom.”

“Ruben was there when you were coming out of the bathroom?” River squawked.

“I apologise for my husband,” Rouge said, “but, unlike him, we want to know out of…”

“Amusement?” Kendal suggested.

“That,” Rouge admitted. “But also out of love.”

“Hey, kids,” Mister Arc said, as he and his wife came downstairs. “What’s going on?”

“We just found out that Jaune’s girlfriend is Jaune’s girlfriend,” Aoko muttered.

“I think that was rather obvious, sweetie,” Mrs. Arc said gently.

“No, Mom, take a look at this,” Saphron said, reaching across the table to pick up the cereal box — Adrian briefly reached for it in vain, the longing noises that he made going unheeded — and turning it around so that the Arc parents could see Pyrrha’s face upon it.

“This is the cereal that Jaune bought all those boxes of to get that Pumpkin Pete’s hoodie he wears, and it’s—”

“Pyrrha,” Mrs. Arc murmured. “Oh my. Oh my goodness. And oh, my word, that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing, dear; let me take a look at you.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Pyrrha murmured, getting up from her seat and walking in front of it so that there was nothing to obstruct Mrs. Arc’s view of her gown and bolero. She gripped the skirt between her forefingers and thumbs, spreading it out a little on either side of her, then briefly turned around, her red sash flowing around her, so that she could see the back as well.

“Oh, that looks beautiful,” Mrs. Arc said. “And you look beautiful, Pyrrha.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Pyrrha was just about to tell us how she and Jaune got together,” River said.

“Really?” Mister Arc said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“That does sound fascinating,” Mrs. Arc said as she sat down beside her husband.

Pyrrha swallowed, conscious of all eyes upon her. “Well,” she murmured, “Jaune…”

Jaune looked at her apologetically. “Would you mind?” he asked. “I … sorry, but…”

“All right,” Pyrrha said softly. She looked around the room and suddenly found herself wishing that she could look somewhere else. She ended up focussing on Adrian, the one person who wasn’t staring at her intently.

It was rather comforting.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “As I said,” she began, “Jaune didn’t recognise me when we first met, which was on our first day at Beacon. I was … well, I was rather taken with Jaune at once, but Jaune…” She glanced at him.

“It’s okay,” he said, lifting his head off the table somewhat. “You can tell them.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Jaune,” she said again, “Jaune had eyes for someone else.”

“Who?” Violet asked.

“Weiss Schnee,” Jaune groaned.

“Weiss Schnee?” Kendal repeated incredulously.

“I know, I know, it was stupid.”

“You say that, but then you did end up with Pyrrha, who is something of a celebrity herself, it seems,” Saphron pointed out.

“There’s a difference between Pyrrha and a Schnee,” Kendal said. “No offence, Pyrrha.”

“None taken,” Pyrrha assured. After all, in Mistral, the difference would be quite different than you mean.

“Was it hard for you?” asked Rouge.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Was what hard for me?”

“Watching Jaune chase after this Weiss Schnee,” Rouge murmured. “You told us that you liked Jaune from the moment you met him, but he … Again, I’m … I’m surprised. He ignored you, he made your heart ache, and yet, you reward him with love and affection. It sounds…” She sighed. “It sounds a little desperate to me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Pyrrha said immediately. “Jaune didn’t make my heart ache, and he didn’t pursue Weiss for that long. It was … when did Sunset make you leave her alone, Jaune?”

“A few weeks, maybe as little as two,” Jaune said. “It was after she got back from that team leader mission.”

“Who’s Sunset?” asked Saphron.

“Our team leader,” Jaune explained. “She’s the one in the picture with flaming hair. She told me to back off Weiss and leave her alone.”

“And in any case,” Pyrrha added, “for the most part, Jaune was a very attentive partner.”

River grinned. “So when did you see that what you were looking for had been there the whole time?”

Pyrrha found herself smiling at the memory. “That was during our last vacation,” she said. “You see, I’d invited my teammates to come back to Mistral with me and be my guests. My mother … my mother…”

“Pyrrha’s mom didn’t like me very much,” Jaune finished for her. “Oh, by the way, Sunset, my team leader? After Dad’s birthday party, she’s going to come down here to research our family history.”

“What does our family history have to do with anything?” Mister Arc demanded.

“It’s my fault,” Pyrrha murmured. “My family is … my family is rather old, in Mistral. Old and noble and proud. As Jaune told you, I’m afraid my mother didn’t like Jaune very much.” She paused for a moment. “We went to a party together, Jaune and I, and Sunset and Ruby, our teammates. We ended up separated, each going our own way, and I ended up alone. Until Jaune saw me alone. He was … very considerate. Very kind. The truth is, whatever you may have thought about him buying those cereal boxes, however you may have teased him, however Jaune may have felt at the time, I’ve never doubted that Jaune saw me for me, Pyrrha Nikos, not the four-time champion of the tournament, not the Invincible Girl, not the Princess—“

“'Princess'?!” Violet cried.

Pyrrha winced, realising that her words had gotten away from her a little.

“That … that’s kind of what Pyrrha meant when she said ‘old family’,” Jaune admitted. “Pyrrha’s family, her ancestors, they used to—”

“To rule Mistral,” Pyrrha finished for him. It felt like it was her place to say it. “My ancestors were Emperors and Empresses of Mistral.”

“Hence, Pyrrha is known in Mistral as the Princess Without a Crown,” Terra murmured.

River whistled.

“And you’re dating our Jaune?” Sky asked.

“As I said, he sees me for me,” Pyrrha reminded her. “But my mother was not very happy when she saw our … burgeoning attraction. She told Jaune that I was engaged to another man.”

“Are you?!” demanded Violet.

“No!” Pyrrha cried. “I would never treat Jaune that way. I was furious when I found out. I told my mother that I was going to leave home at once, and … then I kissed Jaune. And he kissed me.”

“That’s sweet,” Mister Arc said. “And I mean that sincerely. But if that’s the case, I don’t see what it has to do with your team leader coming down here to look into our history.”

“Because … my mother reached out to me,” Pyrrha explained. “She wanted to make amends, to mend the rift between us. She was prepared to accept my being in a relationship with Jaune, but to save face, she would prefer it if there could be some evidence found that Jaune is of a noble ancestry.”

“Then, no offence, but why don’t you look yourself?” asked Chester.

“Because it doesn’t particularly bother me,” Pyrrha replied, “but Sunset is fond of my mother, and she wishes to do her this service.”

“Maybe you can help, Sky?” Mrs. Arc suggested. “You know about the town’s history, after all.”

“The town’s history, not the family’s,” Sky said. “Like I told Pyrrha, the records don’t go further back than the town’s founding. But she’s welcome to look, and I suppose I could see if there’s anything I can add to help her with it.”

“I’m sure that will be much appreciated,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you.”

Sky shrugged. “I’m not sure what she’ll find.”

“It might be kind of cool if we turned out to be lords and ladies,” River said.

“What does it matter nowadays?” Sky asked.

“It matters in Mistral,” Terra murmured.

“I understand now,” Mrs. Arc said softly, “why you threatened to leave, Jaune.” She smiled. “After all, Pyrrha already walked away from her mother; I don’t suppose you could have decently told her that you couldn’t walk away from yours. I hope you realise what a lucky girl you are, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Believe me, ma’am, I’m very aware.”

“I just have one question,” Aoko murmured. “When is somebody going to make me some breakfast?”

The sound of laughter filled the dining room.

Adventures in Babysitting (New)

Adventures in Babysitting

It was a little later in the morning; everyone was showered and dressed, and the table had been cleared away after breakfast.

It was at that point, with the whole family gathered in the dining room, that Sky chose to say, “Oh, Jaune, that question you were asking earlier about why we thought River might be having cravings? She’s pregnant.”

The whole room fell silent. River looked at Sky. “Really? Really?”

“You would have forgotten to tell him,” Sky said. “You had forgotten to tell him.”

“That … okay, that’s fair enough,” River muttered.

“You’re … you’re pregnant?” Jaune repeated. “You’re having a baby?”

“That is what being pregnant means, yeah,” River said. “And why so surprised? I am married.”

“I’m not surprised!” Jaune squawked. “I just…” He let out a laugh. “This is great! Congratulations!” He spread his arms out wide. “Can I give you a hug, or will it hurt the baby?”

“You can give me a hug,” River said, holding her arms out in turn and allowing Jaune to embrace her in a bear hug, even as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in turn.

“This is incredible,” Jaune said, as he lifted her up off the floor for a moment. “I’m going to be an uncle for the second time! Cool Uncle Jaune.”

“Again,” Sky said, “one of those words is correct.”

Jaune put River down on the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Things happened to get in the way,” River replied. “You know, first, you were back, and that was a big thing, and then you were fighting with Sky, and … well, like Sky said, at times, I’ve forgotten that I hadn’t already told you. I mean, everyone else found out days or weeks ago.”

“Really?” Jaune said. “Days or weeks?”

“If you didn’t want to be the last to know the family news, you shouldn’t have run away from home, baby brother,” River said, reaching up a little to flick him on the nose. “Although I probably shouldn’t have told Pyrrha before I told you.”

Jaune stared at Pyrrha. “You knew?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to hear it from me instead of from River herself,” Pyrrha murmured apologetically. “I didn’t think that River would want you to hear it from me instead of from her.”

Jaune sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s not your fault.” He looked at River again. “It’s yours.”

“But you can’t stay mad at me because I’m having a baby,” River declared. “It’s a rule.”

“That is not a rule!” Jaune cried. “But it is true.” He paused for a moment. “I take it that means I missed the celebration?”

“We’re having a party in just a couple of days; you can celebrate then,” Kendal reminded him.

“Great,” grumbled Mister Arc, “that makes me feel appreciated.”

“You know what I mean, Dad,” Kendal said. “Of course it’s your birthday, but this year, it feels like we’ve got so much more to celebrate too.”

Mister Arc made a wordless sound that could have meant any number of things.

“It will still be your party first and foremost, Dad,” Sky assured him. “Anyway, right now, I need to head out. I have to go and see the—”

“Sheriff!”

“Hello there, Mister Mayor, come on in; the door’s open,” Sky said smoothly as a man, as yet unknown to Pyrrha, entered the dining room via the hall.

The presumable Mayor of Alba Longa was a short, somewhat rotund beaver faunus with a pair of exaggerated front teeth sticking out of his mouth; he had more than one chin, and the dark brown hair on top of his head seemed subtly different than the hair around his crown. He was dressed in a brown suit with a white shirt and a red bow tie.

“Sheriff Arc,” he said, “what’s this I hear about a grimm attack on the outskirts of town?”

“I was just about to come and see you about that, Mister Mayor,” Sky said. “I don’t think there’s any reason to worry—”

“No reason to worry!” the mayor cried. “There was a grimm attack! On our town! It destroyed the McKinley farm!”

“And then it died,” Sky reminded him. “And there is no evidence that there are any more of them out there.”

“For now!” replied the mayor. “You don’t know that there won’t be more of them coming soon. Our town has been safe for now, but it seems that time is over!”

“That’s an assumption; it might be as long until a grimm next shows up as it was before that one did.”

“So is that your plan, Sheriff?” the mayor demanded. “To do nothing and hope that this is an isolated incident?”

“No, I’m going to hire a huntsman to take a look around, kill any grimm that might be in the area, and provide some recommendations on how we can protect ourselves.”

“A huntsman?” the mayor repeated. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s not a bad idea, but their fee is going to come out of your budget, Sheriff.”

“Of course, Mister Mayor,” Sky said. “That’s a sacrifice that I’m prepared to make.”

The mayor was silent for a moment. “Your brother-in-law came to see me earlier this morning,” he said.

“Is he the one who told you about the attack?” Sky asked.

“That’s not important,” the mayor said. “The point is, the point he made to me is, that we’ve got a lot of fine fellows in this town who know how to shoot, and we could—”

“Mister Mayor, last deer season, Ned Gansevant shot Jimmy Prescott by mistake because he saw something moving in the trees and fired at it; Jimmy was lucky not to die or lose an arm. It’s the reason why I hate deer season, and it’s the reason Sheriff Pearl hated it too; we have too many close calls already. Now I know that you and Ruben think that this is a good idea but I guarantee that if you tell people there is a reason to be scared and they need to go out and find that scary thing and shoot it we will be burying one of our neighbours regardless of whether there are any grimm out there.”

“Hmm,” the mayor murmured. “Some of our boys can be a little bit trigger-happy. We wouldn’t want any accidents. That wouldn’t help at all. Still, are you sure one huntsman will be enough?”

“I can try and find the money to spring for two,” Sky suggested.

“If you could spring for ten or twenty, that would make me happy,” the mayor said. “A grimm. A grimm! That this should happen when I’m mayor.”

“You have been mayor for twenty years, Mister Mayor.”

“And I still have a lot to give this precious town,” the mayor insisted. He paused for a moment. “There are a lot of anxious people out there, Sheriff. Word’s starting to spread.”

“From Ruben?”

“From the McKinleys, and the Kents,” the mayor said. “Everyone knows that they’ve been made homeless. I’ve decided to call a town meeting. You can tell everyone what you plan to do about this, and hopefully, it will convince people to stop worrying. We can also decide how we can all help the McKinleys in their hour of need. After all, we’re like a family here in Alba Longa.”

“I’ll be there,” Sky promised.

“One hour, in the town hall,” the mayor said, before turning away. He stopped, turned back, and bowed his head. “Good morning, Mrs. Arc, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.”

“Not at all, Mister Mayor,” Mrs. Arc replied. “And how is your wife this morning?”

“Nervous, like everyone else,” the mayor said. “Hopefully, our Sheriff can soothe her agitation.”

He turned away again, and this time he did walk away, his footsteps echoing down the hall. There was the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Sky drew back her shoulder. “Okay. I guess I know what I’m doing today.”

“What we’re all doing,” Mister Arc said. “We’ll all go to the meeting. After all, this is our home.”

“But I’ve still got so much to do,” Rouge protested.

“There are a few things that are more important than my party, and this is one of them,” Mister Arc declared. “Besides, if we don’t show our faces, people will wonder why.”

“I know, Dad, I know,” Rouge murmured. She rested her hands on the table, then looked up at Jaune. “I’ll just have to work harder once the meeting is over.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart,” Mister Arc said. “I mean, I’m not perfect; why should my party be perfect?”

Rouge smiled. “Thanks, Dad. But I want to try anyway.”

“Hey, Jaune,” Saphron said. “You don’t really live here any more, so there’s no need for you to go to the meeting; would you mind watching Adrian for me?”

“Uh,” Jaune said, the blurted word falling from his lips. “I mean, yeah, sure, I’d love to, but … I mean, you don’t live here either—”

“No, but Terra and I can find … something to do,” Saphron said. “And you can spend some quality time with your nephew. You didn’t really want to take Pyrrha to a town meeting, did you?”

“I mean…” Jaune glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha, for her part, said nothing. She didn’t feel as though it was her place to say one way or another; this wasn’t her home, after all. Admittedly, the idea of a town meeting didn’t sound particularly inviting, but if Jaune wanted to go, then she wasn’t going to stand in his way. Perhaps the people of Alba Longa might want to hear from a huntsman in training.

On second thought, perhaps not; it seemed unlikely on the evidence thus far presented that the people of Alba Longa would wish to hear from Jaune Arc at the present time.

To be honest, she would not have minded spending a little time with Adrian; he was a very cute child. And she had been wondering what they were going to do here in the days leading up to Mister Arc’s party.

But again, this was Jaune’s home and Jaune’s choice.

Jaune must have realised that she was not going to intrude her own opinion into this, because he turned back to Saphron and said, “Babysitting sounds great.”

“Awesome!” Saphron cried. “And don’t worry; it’ll be a cinch.”

And so, an hour later, Pyrrha and Jaune found themselves in the Arcs’ living room, where a red settee sat against the back wall of the wood-panelled room, together with a couple of large stuffed armchairs and one or two smaller, lighter chairs besides. There was no television, Pyrrha noticed, although there was an upright piano in the corner of the room and a couple of bookshelves standing against the wall nearest the door, along with a liquor cabinet.

Pyrrha and Jaune sat down together on the settee, side by side, as Saphron and Terra came up behind them.

“Here you go,” Saphron said, holding out little Adrian to Jaune; he was facing away from Jaune, arms outstretched towards his mother, who said to him, “Now you be a good boy for Uncle Jaune, okay? He’s going to look after you for a little bit while Mommy and Mommy are away.”

Adrian made a noise, but he continued to reach for Saphron even as she handed him to Jaune. Jaune, for his part, took the little boy almost reverently in his grasp, holding onto him with both hands and lowering him quickly to sit upon Jaune’s lap, resting upon Jaune’s slightly faded blue jeans as though he were afraid that if he tarried too long, he might drop his nephew.

“And here are his things,” Terra said, holding out a zip-up bag to Pyrrha. “We’re not going to be gone so long that you’ll need half of this stuff, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha agreed, taking the bag from her unresisting hands. Inside – it was not zipped up — there were some toys, a storybook, a blanket, and a few other things buried underneath that Pyrrha couldn’t quite make out. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me; you’re the one doing us a favour,” Terra said. “I love him, but it is a little exhausting having to be a mom all the time. Not that he’ll be difficult in any way, I hasten to add before you change your mind.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll be a little angel,” she said. “Won’t you?” she asked, reaching out towards Adrian with one finger. “Won’t you?”

Terra grinned. “We’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks again,” Saphron added as she and Terra retreated towards the door.

“Oh,” Terra added, turning back in the doorway. “He likes the airship best at the moment.”

“Have fun, you two!” Jaune called, as the two of them retreated.

They left, and the house was quiet. Silent, in fact; everyone was out, either at the town meeting or else enjoying the break. In the whole house, there were just the three of them: Pyrrha, Jaune, and Adrian, and they were all in this room together.

Jaune glanced at her. “Sorry about this,” he said apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Pyrrha assured him. “I don’t mind.”

“Really? Because I’m sure that whatever you expected … this trip so far hasn’t been what you expected, has it?”

“It’s fine, Jaune,” Pyrrha insisted. “It’s true that things got off to a bit of a rough start, but that was much more directed at you than at me, and … and I think it’s safe to say that things have improved a lot since then.” She looked into the bag. “The airship, huh?”

There it was, near the top: a toy Atlesian Skyray, and very faithful in modelling to the real thing, she had to say. Some toy manufacturers didn’t bother to get the details right, but whoever had made this had clearly gone the extra mile. She reached in, grabbed it, and pulled it out of the bag before she put said bag on the floor by her feet.

Adrian gasped when she sat the airship, reaching for it with both his small hands.

“You want this?” Pyrrha asked him. “You like this?”

She held the toy by its tail, positioned in such a way that the airship looked as though it was flying horizontally towards Adrian. As it approached, and as he reached for it, Pyrrha pulled the airship upwards as though the pilot had suddenly yanked back on the controls, sending the airship rising up into the sky. She found herself making a little whooshing noise as she lifted the toy Skyray up into the air.

“And here comes Rainbow Dash, flying to the rescue,” Pyrrha said as she turned the airship in a swooping dive, turning it in an arc through the air of the living room. “Will she be in time to save the day?”

The airship dived towards Adrian once again, but he didn’t reach for it this time; he simply watched the toy coming towards him with big, wide eyes.

Pyrrha mimicked the airship flying around him a couple of times, before slowing down for a moment, feeling the weight of the toy in her hands. “Jaune,” she said.

“Yeah?” Jaune asked. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched her.

“I think there’s metal in this toy,” Pyrrha said.

“So?” asked Jaune. He blinked. “You mean?”

Now it was Pyrrha’s turn to smile, and her hand was surrounded with a faint black outline as she touched the model Skyray with her semblance.

And she let it go.

The Skyray did not fall. Adrian’s beloved toy did not clatter to the floor. No, with only a little black around it which did nothing to obscure Adrian from seeing the airship, it hovered in place as though it were a real airship suspended by gravity dust awaiting orders.

Adrian gasped. He seemed to understand that an airship ought not to be hovering like this. His mouth opened, hanging wide.

Pyrrha could not resist a chuckle. “Watch closely,” she said, and she set the airship flying.

Pyrrha’s control over her semblance was absolute. It was a scalpel in her hands. It might not be too effective a bludgeon, since she had never trained to use it on a grand scale, but when it came to small things like weapons, or toys, there was very little that she could not do. And so it was easy for her to make the living room her sky, the sky in which the Skyray ruled absolute, as it flew around just below the ceiling, dived down to the floor below, almost but not quite hitting the deck, pulling up at the last moment, as it rolled and looped, as it did things that would surely have impressed Rainbow Dash if they had been done by a real airship.

And, being done by a toy, they impressed Adrian. He gasped. He clapped his hands together. He cried out in wordless, gleeful delight. Jaune stood up, holding tightly onto Adrian, and carried him into the centre of the room, lifting him up at times to get him closer to the toy, even as Pyrrha ‘piloted’ the Skyray closer to him, waggling its wings in a sort of salute when it passed near to his face.

After a little while, the appeal of the flying Skyray seemed to wear off a little — at least for now — but by then, Adrian seemed to find the very fact of being lifted up into the air by Jaune fun, and he laughed as Jaune lifted him up, raising his arms — but bending his knees, lest he bang Adrian’s head against the ceiling — over and over again as though Adrian himself were the airship rising into the sky.

“Whoa!” Jaune cried. “There you go!”

Adrian laughed, then his laughter turned into a leonine yawn as his mouth gaped open wide, and his brown eyes fluttered for a moment.

“Tired, huh?” Jaune asked as he lowered Adrian down. “You feel like taking a nap?”

Adrian’s eyes opened, and he pouted as though to suggest that the very idea was preposterous.

“Uh, okay,” Jaune said as he and Pyrrha retreated back to the settee.

“How about a story?” Pyrrha suggested. She hesitated for a moment. “Jaune… could I … could I hold him, for a little while, please?”

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said. “Just, be careful, okay?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured as she reached out and put her hands around Adrian’s waist. He did not protest as she lifted him up off Jaune’s lap and down onto her own; rather, he giggled a little. “Hello again,” Pyrrha said, her voice a gentle whisper.

Adrian beamed up at her. Some of Pyrrha’s long red hair had fallen over her shoulder, and Adrian grabbed at it, giggling to himself as he tugged at it.

Pyrrha chuckled and started to rock him gently back and forth in her arms.

“Once upon a time,” she said, still speaking in that hushed whisper of a voice, “in a ramshackle old cottage deep in the forest, beside a mighty river, there lived a cold, old man. He lived alone, dwelling in shadow and darkness, with only a single small window out onto the world. And yet, one snowy day, as he looked out of the window, the old man saw something strange and new, something he had not seen before.

“For there, outside the window, beneath a great old tangled tree, there sat a fair young maiden, dressed in robes of blue with sable trim, and her hair was as white as snow. The old man thought he must be dreaming, for he had dwelt in this house for many centuries, and not once in all that time had he received any visitors. Yet, there she sat, with her eyes closed, as though she were asleep.

“The old man opened his window, feeling a blast of cold air on his face, and demanded to know who she was and what she was doing. The maiden replied, ‘My name is Winter, I have been on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sisters.’ The old man still did not understand why she was sitting there beneath his tree alone, but the maiden replied that she was not alone, for she had her thoughts with her, and there were times when they were good company enough. And with that, the maiden closed her eyes once more and resumed her meditation.

“The old man grumpily thought to himself that the girl was a fool, and yet, foolish as he thought she was, the sight of her sitting out there in the snow and cold stirred something in him, and he told her to come inside and warm herself by the fire before she caught her death. The maiden accepted and came into his dark home. The old man could not remember the last time he had eaten, or felt the warmth of a fire, but nevertheless, for the sake of his guest, he set a fire in the hearth and cooked a bowl of soup for her — and soon realised that he, too, was very hungry. As they ate, he asked her what she had been doing sitting out there in the cold beneath the tree, and the maiden replied that she had been meditating, and offered to show him how. Many months passed, and the old man found that his mind became clearer than it had been in years, and as his friendship with Winter thawed the old man’s heart, so too the frozen forest began to thaw around them.”

“One day, the old man woke up to find that Winter was no longer in his little cottage. It seemed that she had departed without bidding him farewell. Disappointed, the old man went to the window and saw that outside, the grass was green, the leaves had returned to the great old tree, and the maiden once more stood outside, now joined by another. She was clad in green, with leaves and flowers in her hair, and upon her arm, there hung a great and bountiful basket of fruits and flowers. ‘And who are you?’ the old man asked. ‘My name is Spring,’ the maiden replied. ‘I am on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sisters.’ She walked to his window, and from her basket, she offered him fruits and flowers.

“‘Is this to repay my hospitality to your sister?’ asked the old man. ‘No, sir,’ replied Spring, ‘this is from nought but kindness, and because I believe you would appreciate them.’ The old man opened the window and received the gifts that Spring provided with a gratitude that surprised him. It had been many years since he had had anything so beautiful as these lovely flowers in his house, and as he looked at them, he began to wonder if it had not been too long since he had had such things. He turned away, placing the flowers where they might brighten up his dark home, but when he returned to the window, he found to his astonishment that Spring was tending to his garden, and that what had been a bare and barren patch of earth was now a place from which life would surely blossom.

“‘You have done too much,' the old man said, to which Spring replied that she had hardly begun. The old man bade her come inside when she was weary, and Spring, like Winter, joined him in his cottage, sharing his hearth. But there was no need to share in what little food the old man could provide, for each day, Spring laboured at the old man’s garden, and not only beautiful flowers but bountiful fruits and vegetables sprung out of the ground to liven up their mealtimes.

“Months passed, until one day, the old man awoke to find Winter and Spring both gone, but laughter coming from outside. And the old man walked to his window and saw that a third maiden now stood there, tall, with sunlight in her golden hair. The old man begged her to introduce herself, and she said, ‘My name is Summer, I am on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sister.’ And then she laughed again, and the old man begged her to tell him what was so funny.

“The maiden replied that the source of her amusement was him, for he stood in that dark house, watching the world out of his window as though he were a captive prisoner, when the door by which he might leave the darkness and step out into the world was right beside him. The old man felt a fool; why did he need Spring to give him flowers through the window when he could go out and find them for himself? And so, after a moment, the old man opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. And with the sunlight came new energy, so that when Summer begged him to come and dance with her, the old man found the strength to accept. And as he danced and frolicked, the old man found that he scarcely felt like himself.

“He felt better.

“All summer long, the old man spent every waking moment out of doors, sleeping under the stars with Winter, Spring, and Summer. One day, as the leaves turned golden and the hot days drew to a close, Summer proposed a great feast. Winter set the table, Spring supplied the crops, Summer prepared the meal, and the old man? Well, the old man was the happiest that he had been in many years.

“But, as he sat down at the head of the table, the old man noticed another guest had arrived: a fourth maiden stood beneath his tree, delicate, with sunset in her hair of red. The old man begged her to join them and to introduce herself. ‘My name is Fall,’ she said, ‘I have been on a journey, and I am here to meet my sisters.’ The other three maidens, Winter, Spring, and Summer, welcomed her joyfully, for now they were all together once again. But then Fall asked, ‘But who are you, sir, who have welcomed my sisters while they waited for me?’

“The old man said, ‘I am just an old hermit, and my story is not very interesting. I have little to my name and no one to love.’ To the old man’s surprise, Fall smiled at him. ‘But sir,’ she said, gesturing to her sisters and to the world around him, ‘don’t you see? You have so much. I beg of you, be thankful for all that you have and all that you have been given.’

“The old man vowed that he would, for his eyes had been opened by the kindness of the four sisters. And yet, he begged to know why they had chosen to bestow such kindness upon him. And Fall replied, ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but we did not do these things for you because you are special. We do what we can for everyone, because we are able.’

“‘Then let me repay you as I can, because I am able,’ the old man said, and he bestowed upon the four sisters incredible power, begging them to continue to help others all over the world. They graciously accepted and promised to share their gifts with the people of Remnant until the very end of days. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, the four seasons.”

Adrian’s eyes were closed, and he let out a snort of murmur, but as he curled up in Pyrrha’s lap, still clutching at some of her long red hair, it was clear that he had fallen asleep.

Pyrrha smiled. “Sleep tight, little one.”

Jaune put his arms around her, shifting closer to her. “You told that from memory?” he asked.

“It’s one of my favourites,” Pyrrha said. “From time to time, I can appreciate a gentler sort of story, one that doesn’t involve proud warriors trying to kill one another.”

Jaune smiled, although the smile swiftly faded from his face. “Incredible power,” he murmured. “Do you think—?”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, gently but firmly. “Would you mind if we didn’t talk about such things?” She hesitated. “This place is … so peaceful. It feels … it almost feels wrong to bring the darkness here, even by speaking of it.”

Jaune nodded. “You’re right,” he said. His smile returned. “And besides, it feels like we should be allowed a little time to not have to think about that stuff, doesn’t it?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Pyrrha replied, looking away from him and down upon the slumbering Adrian. With one hand, Pyrrha stroked his forehead, brushing his hair a little out of the way. “Jaune,” she said, “do you ever think about the future?”

“'The future'?” Jaune repeated.

“Our future,” Pyrrha explained. “Our future … together.”

She felt as though she were stepping onto thin ice. Sunset, she felt sure, would have told her that she was being absurd, too insecure, letting her fears get the best of her, but nevertheless, Pyrrha was afraid. What if Jaune told her that he didn’t think about their future together because he didn’t see one, that she was an entertainment for him, not a future? Yes, Sunset would undoubtedly have ridiculed such fears — well, perhaps not actively ridiculed, because Sunset never laughed at her — but Pyrrha, though she could recognise how unlikely it all was, though she knew that Jaune had brought her here to meet his family, his family … she could not banish worry from her heart.

Perhaps it was that fear, that fear of silence, that desire to fill up the space in the conversation, that drove Pyrrha on, saying, “Do you ever think about … about where we might live or what we might do or … or whether we’ll ever have children of our own, like Adrian?”

“Two,” Jaune said, after a moment’s pause.

Pyrrha looked at him. “'Two'?” she repeated.

Jaune shrugged, or sort of shrugged, as best he could while he had his arms around her. “When I’ve thought about it,” he said, “I think two children would be a good number to have. More … when you have a lot of children, there’s always someone who gets left out. Either the oldest kids have to grow up faster and become almost like other parents to the younger ones, or else the younger ones don’t get to grow up at all, because the older siblings don’t stop babying them. Or both, it feels like, in my family: Rouge and me and Violet. But at the same, with only one kid … what if they end up all alone? At least with a brother or sister, they’ll never be really alone, you know?”

Pyrrha didn’t know, but she did know what he meant about an only child ending up alone, especially an only child born into the line of Nikos. “So you have thought about it?” she asked, a degree of amusement creeping stealthily into her voice.

Jaune smiled sheepishly. “A little bit, yeah. You?”

Pyrrha looked down at Adrian, slumbering peacefully in her embrace. “All of Mistral would rejoice if I were to have an heir,” she murmured. “Someone to continue the line of Nikos after me.”

“But what do you want?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I would … I would love to be a mother,” she confessed, or at least it felt like confession. She looked into Jaune’s eyes. “I would love to be a better mother than my own, to let my child or my children, our children, decide for themselves what path they wished to follow, what destiny they wished to pursue. To give them nothing but love and affection, to let them know that they could always return to my arms whenever they wished to.”

Jaune chuckled. “I think that you’ll be a great mom,” he told her.

Pyrrha smiled at that, but nevertheless, she said, “But there are times … there are times when I also think … I wonder if it’s selfish, to bring a child into the world, knowing that you could, that you might leave them at any moment.”

Jaune frowned. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about the dark stuff?”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “But … I’m not sure that it can be wholly avoided.”

“I know what you mean,” Jaune admitted. “My Dad quit after Rouge was born for just that reason. He … he didn’t want her to have to grow up without a father. But, on the other hand … I don’t know, saying that you shouldn’t have kids if you’re going to continue to do the work? I mean, Ruby misses her mom, but isn’t it better that she exists and that she has some memories of her mother, than that Summer Rose had decided to never have children because she might die? Isn’t it better that you exist than that your dad decided to never marry or have children?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “How can I argue with the fact that, by my own argument, I wouldn’t be here?”

“Would you keep doing the work then?” Jaune asked.

“I … I don’t see how I could walk away from it, at least, not for a while,” Pyrrha replied. “Knowing what we do, this thing that we’re not going to talk about, for all that I’m not the most necessary to our efforts—”

“Don’t say that,” Jaune said.

“I don’t have Sunset’s magic or Ruby’s eyes.”

“No, but neither of them have your sheer unbridled skill, and that counts for something, right?” Jaune asked.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha murmured. “Either way, the point is that I don’t think that I could turn my back on all of this, at least not for a while, not until the next group of the … of the chosen were ready to take on the burden from Professor Ozpin, just as we did.”

“And when they do?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “Who can say? It might depend on what I’ve done, or what I think I’ve done. I don’t know. I … I don’t know.” I don’t know what I want out of the next few years, let alone further on than that. “Perhaps I’ll retire, like my mother did, like she has, devote myself to running the Nikos estates and raising our children. I mean … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume that we’d live in Mistral—”

“It makes sense,” Jaune admitted. “All of your land, that big house—”

“We don’t have to live in the big house.”

“Maybe not, but it seems like a pretty nice place to grow up,” Jaune pointed out. “And … well, did you ever lack for anything when you were a kid?”

“Nothing that money could buy,” Pyrrha replied.

Jaune grinned. “Is it wrong for me to say that I want that for our children?” he asked. “Not … that almost sounds like I’m interested in you for the money.”

“I know that isn’t true,” Pyrrha assured him, reflecting that he might have a similar reaction if she confessed her fears to him.

“But if we have the chance to give our children every luxury and comfort then … it seems kind of silly to throw that away just so we can live in Vale instead,” Jaune pointed out. “Or anywhere else other than Mistral. Not to mention, I’m pretty sure that Mistral would start a war if you didn’t come home at some point.”

Pyrrha laughed, and holding Adrian as she was, she wasn’t even able to raise a hand to stifle her laughter. “I think you might be exaggerating,” she said, “if only by a little.” She took pause for a moment, until the laughter died. “And you? Would you think about giving up being a huntsman, like your father did, or would you keep going?”

Jaune did not answer for a moment, nor for the next. “My Dad told me, when we talked last night,” he said, “he told me, or at least he made it seem, as if he didn’t know what he was going to do until he was holding Rouge in his arms, looking down on her. So I guess … I suppose my answer is I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll make up my mind when I hold our baby in my arms.”

“If,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Huh?”

“If you hold our baby in your arms,” Pyrrha said softly. “If I—”

“When,” Jaune insisted. “You’re not going to die, Pyrrha, not to Cinder, not at school, not for a long time to come. And neither am I. We’re going to live; I guarantee it.”

Pyrrha stared at him. “How can you be so sure?” she asked him softly.

Jaune drew her in and kissed her on the forehead, just below her glittering circlet. “Because I’m going to be right by your side, always,” he said, “and I know that no matter how bad things get, together, we can make it through, I know it. I … I might not be able to be a hero, but I’ll be your hero, and you’ll be mine; that’s my promise. Because … because I love you, and there’s no way in Remnant I’m going to let you go.”

Author's Note

Art by Artsbysmarty

Father and Mother and Violet Too (New)

Father and Mother and Violet Too

There was a stag’s head on the wall of Mister Arc’s study, with a pair of magnificent antlers spreading out from it, almost touching the ceiling beneath which it was mounted.

It was not the only decoration in the wood-panelled study, but it was the one to which Pyrrha found her eyes were drawn inexorably.

Mister Arc must have noticed — it cannot have been very hard to do so — because he said, “I got that a couple of summers ago out in the woods. Seems like I was lucky not to come across a grimm instead, huh?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “Or you could say that the McKinleys were simply unfortunate.”

“Or that we were lucky to have you here,” Mister Arc pointed out.

Pyrrha smiled slightly. “You’re too kind, sir—”

“Gold,” Mister Arc insisted. “I already told you, there’s no need for all of that formality here. Now, can I call you Pyrrha, or would you prefer Miss Nikos?”

“Pyrrha will be fine, thank you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Gold smiled. “Pyrrha it is then.” There was a desk in the study, but he did not sit behind; rather, he took an armchair that, if it was not exactly gold, was nevertheless a bright yellow colour. He gestured to another chair, more spindly, wooden, and with a cushion in the same yellow colour. “Please, take a seat.”

Pyrrha sat down. She was glad that Mister Arc had asked to speak with her like this. She had, truth to tell, hoped for something like this, when Jaune’s father would ask to speak to her and judge whether she was worthy of his son and give her the chance to prove that, yes, she was fit for Jaune and to be a part of his life.

On the other hand, of course, the fact that she now had this chance was no guarantee that she wouldn’t fail the test in some way. There was always the chance that she would not be sufficiently impressive, that by the end of their conversation, Mister Arc would judge her unworthy, and she would be ejected from the house just as Sky and the others had hoped to do yesterday.

It was enough to make Pyrrha’s stomach flutter a little with nervousness.

She had spoken true to Sunset when she had told her that she didn’t want Jaune to have to choose between his family and her.

But she didn’t think that she could give up on him for the sake of his family either, selfish though it might be.

No. No, she couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t get caught in a spiral of fear and doubt. She had to keep looking forwards and get through his meeting with Jaune’s father with his … with his blessing.

Thought about like that, it was as if she was asking for his permission to marry his son. She was not — apart from anything else, Pyrrha would prefer for Jaune to ask — but in a way … who knew when they might be here again? This might be Pyrrha’s only chance to obtain any sort of blessing at all, from Jaune’s father or his mother.

So she had better get this right.

She sat down, her hands clasped together on her lap.

Mister Arc smiled benevolently at her. “I hope you don’t mind me prying you away from Jaune for a little while, but since you and my son are an item, I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Pyrrha said softly. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that I wouldn’t mind getting to know Jaune’s father a little better as well.”

I wouldn’t mind asking why you didn’t unlock his aura, or even tell him what it was, Pyrrha thought, although she almost certainly would not ask. She hoped to gain Mister Arc’s approval, after all, and picking a fight with him over the way he had raised his son was probably not the best way to do that.

Mister Arc nodded. “That’s natural, and that’s fine,” he said. “I know that this place must seem very quiet, very … traditional, in certain ways, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This isn’t that scene where I call you in so I can try and scare you off with what a big guy I am, show off my gun collection, all that crap. Apart from anything else, I doubt that would work on a Beacon huntress, much less one as accomplished as you, if Terra is to be believed. But my point is that if this can be a two-way street, then so much the better. We can get to know one another without my daughters getting in the way.” He chuckled. “I love my children, but … there are a lot of them, and they can be very loud.”

Pyrrha didn’t reply. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds as a guest here; in all likelihood, Mister Arc would never tolerate an outsider saying things about his family that he said himself.

And so, after a moment's pause, it was left to Mister Arc to continue the conversation.

“Do you always dress so…” Mister Arc — Gold — waved one hand in front of him. “So well?”

Pyrrha considered her answer for a moment. “I don’t dress like this for battle,” she said, “either in the arena or the field, but I suppose you could say that even my combat attire is … a little flamboyant.”

Gold nodded, although he offered no clue as to whether he had seen her combat attire — a little research would have shown it to him, but he might not have felt the need to do any — and in any case, he brought the subject back to where it had been, saying, “And outside of battle? Do you always dress like this?”

Pyrrha wondered if he disapproved, although she could not think why; she wondered — worried, was perhaps a better description — whether he found it too much. “I … I am not what you would call a casual dresser; is that a problem?”

“Not as much of a problem as you tailoring your answers to impress me,” Gold declared. “I told you that I want to get to know you, not the person that you think I want to hear. Honestly, you dress like that?”

“Honestly, I’m … not sure why you are interested in how I dress,” Pyrrha murmured, hoping that her tone remained respectful, even as her response might be read as less than such.

“That’s a fair point,” Gold muttered. “I suppose … I suppose that when you told us that you were really Mistral’s princess—”

“I’m not a princess,” Pyrrha corrected him. “That is … a name. A nickname bestowed on me by crowds and flatterers and promoters. It isn’t a title. There is no royal family in Mistral anymore; my great-grandfather laid down his crown at the end of the Great War, and none have picked it up since.”

“And yet you dress like that,” Gold pointed out.

“How should I dress?” asked Pyrrha. “I like … pretty things. Elegant things. Gowns and dresses and jewellery too, upon occasion. I wore this gown, and I dressed as I did last night, and I will dress up yet more for dinner tonight, in part, I must confess, to impress you and your family, to show that I respected you enough to dress up instead of assuming that I could turn up at your door in any old thing, but even if that had not been in my mind, I would still have worn something more like this than … than anything else because … because this is simply more to my taste.”

“But not to Jaune’s,” Gold said. “I know that it might seem strange, me sitting here asking about what you like to wear, but … I see you, dressed like that, and then I see Jaune wearing that same old hoodie, and … well, you admit, that there’s a bit of a difference there.”

“I suppose,” Pyrrha said softly.

“We’re pretty well settled here, I admit,” Gold said. “Has Sky told you that our family founded this town?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “And even if she hadn’t, the statue would have suggested your importance.”

Gold shrugged. “We’re lucky,” he said. “We’re no Schnees — and I suspect we’re no Nikoses either — but this family has never really wanted for anything, at least not materially. But all the same … despite what your mother or your teammate might be hoping to dig up, we’re nothing special. We’re just the Arcs, just a pretty ordinary family from a pretty ordinary little village out in the boonies. And you … well, you know what you are.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed a little beneath her circlet. “Mister— Gold … I feel as though you’re trying to say something. I would prefer you be more plain, for I fail to take your meaning.”

Gold was silent for a moment. “That was a nice story you told, about how you and Jaune got together,” he said.

“It really happened just like that,” Pyrrha said.

“If you thought I was sceptical because of the word 'story,' then I apologise,” Gold said. “That wasn’t what I meant. That isn’t what I’m worried about.” He paused. “You know, I had a lot of worries about Jaune, but the idea that he would end up alone was never one of them. He’s a good-looking kid — better-looking than I was when I was his age; all my children get their good looks from their mother, even if they do have my colouring in the hair and eyes — and while he … while he was never exactly what you’d call much of a man, I never doubted his good intentions.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured, and tried to keep the disapproval out of her voice.

Gold looked at her, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought that he had picked up on her disapproval, before he continued, “I always knew that he would find someone. He wasn’t so hopeless that no girl would go for him. I just wasn’t expecting a girl like you to go for him, and now … I suppose what worries me is … you know he’s very taken with you.”

Pyrrha couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “That’s always good to hear,” she said. “I’m rather fond of Jaune as well.”

“What worries me,” Gold said, for far from the first time, so much so that Pyrrha wondered what his worries were that he had such trouble expressing them, “is that at some point, you’ll take a look at Jaune in his hoodie and his jeans and realise that he isn’t really up to your standards, that he doesn’t belong by your side, in your world.”

“You have nothing to worry about in that regard, I promise you,” Pyrrha declared.

“No?” Gold asked.

“No,” Pyrrha said firmly.

She leaned forward and debated whether it might be best to stand up for this. It might seem melodramatic, especially given Gold Arc’s already-expressed distaste for Mistralian courtesy.

Well, let him think her melodramatic, let him think her the very worst kind of Mistralian; the fact of the matter was that she was a Mistralian, and any other way of getting her point across would seem mealy-mouthed by comparison.

“Mister Arc,” she said, getting to her feet, standing before him with her back straight, “if I was ever inclined to want a Mistralian lord with old money and an old name and a lord’s dress sense, then I could have had one; my mother would have arranged the match eagerly enough, I assure you. But that is not what I desire. Yes, I enjoy things that are beautiful and feminine, but I do not demand that Jaune share my tastes.”

She smiled. “Not to mention that I find your son as fair to look on in his hoodie and jeans as he ever does in a suit or anything else for that matter. I … I know that you do not much care for Mistralian manners, but nevertheless, I know no other way to say this that is not melodramatic, but I am his, as he is mine; my heart … he has pierced my heart. He has pierced my heart and claimed it for himself as you claimed the head of that stag up on your wall. I will not cast him away. I could not even if I wished, certainly not over such a frivolous thing. Not … not over anything … except, perhaps…”

Gold leaned forward in his armchair. “Perhaps what?”

“Duty,” Pyrrha murmured. “I … I must admit that if it came to a choice between my duty as a huntress, my obligations to the world, and to Jaune … I’m not yet sure what I would do.”

Gold was silent for a moment. “Well, if that’s all, then Jaune is a very lucky guy with very little to worry about.”

Pyrrha blinked. “You don’t—”

“What you’ve just described is the curse of being a huntsman, or a huntress,” Gold said. “What you’ve just described is why I quit when Rouge was born. Love and Duty … I didn’t want to be forced to choose between them. Or rather, maybe it would be better to say that I chose Love and told Duty to go find someone else. Not everyone makes that choice, but that choice … I’m not going to judge you for not being sure that you’d choose Jaune. I wouldn’t even judge you if you didn’t choose Jaune, not for that choice, the hardest choice. For anything else, I might judge you,” he added, “but not for that.”

“I … I am glad to hear it,” Pyrrha murmured. “He … Jaune, I … he really does mean the world to me. I very much want you to believe that, to understand that. If there is anything that I can do to prove it to you—”

“'Prove it'?” Gold repeated. “How would I ask you to go about doing that?”

Pyrrha’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. “I … our team leader suggested that you might set me some sort of labour or challenge.”

Gold’s eyebrows rose. “Is your team leader a Mistralian too by any chance?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Sunset is…” A magical unicorn from a land called Equestria. “From outside the kingdoms, by way of Atlas.”

“Really? I would have thought that she would have more sense,” Gold muttered. “No, I’m not going to set you any challenges; no, you don’t have to pass a test; no, you don’t have to prove anything to me. Jaune says he loves you, you say that you love him, and for what it’s worth, I believe the both of you. I’m not going to say I have a hundred percent faith that it’ll work out between you two, but I believe that you’re both sincere in what you say.”

Once more, he took a moment’s pause. “But still … you come from very different worlds. You say that you wouldn’t cast Jaune out because he doesn’t fit into yours—”

“And I would not,” Pyrrha insisted.

“But what about everyone else in your world?” Gold asked. “Will everyone else be as accommodating as you? If Jaune goes to Mistral with you, is he going to end up with only you in the whole city who treats him right in a sea of people who look at him like he doesn’t belong there?”

Pyrrha did not respond immediately. “I … I cannot say it is impossible,” she admitted. She took a deep breath. “Jaune and I talked a little about our future, while you were all out.”

“As you do,” Gold said, sounding amused. “You two really are serious, aren’t you?”

“When it comes to my heart, I’m not sure I know how to be anything but serious,” Pyrrha admitted. “I am … I lack…”

“I’m sure,” Gold murmured, sparing her the need to finish. “So, what kind of future did you talk about?”

“One … in Mistral,” Pyrrha admitted. “But … I cannot say that there are none in Mistral who might take against Jaune for his background, but nor will I say that the whole of Mistralian society would turn against him without better cause than that.” After all, snobbish though it was at times, steeped in its traditions, obsessed with its past glories and its ancient honours, nevertheless, Mistralian society had shown at times the ability to be accepting: Pyrrha’s own mother had embraced Sunset to the bosom of the family; and the Rutulians had welcomed Camilla into their home and House, and no one dared suggest that she did not belong there. She hoped that Jaune might be welcomed in the same way. “But, if Jaune was unhappy, then … then I would leave. I would not force him to remain anywhere that made him miserable. I care for him too much for that.”

Gold gave no sign of what he thought of Pyrrha’s response. He watched her without speaking. When he did speak, it was to change the subject: “So tell me about Beacon.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What do you want to tell me?” Gold asked.

Pyrrha thought for a moment. You did say you wanted me to be honest with you. “You went to Beacon yourself, didn’t you?” she asked.

Gold nodded. “I did.”

“May I ask how Initiation was conducted in your day?”

Gold winced. “The catapult.”

“Jaune nearly died!” Pyrrha declared. “Jaune would have died if…”

She cut herself off, swallowing her words, lest a declaration that Jaune would have died if not for her should be taken for entitlement or some idea that she had some claim on Jaune in consequence.

It didn’t appear to work. Gold said, “I take it you had something to do with the fact that he didn’t?”

“Well…” Pyrrha murmured.

“I don’t know why you think that saving my son’s life is something you should feel embarrassed about,” Gold told her.

“I just…” Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. “He seemed so very out of his depth, I couldn’t just stand by without doing something to help him. I didn’t know that he hadn’t activated his aura at the time, only that he seemed inexperienced, nervous … as though he didn’t have a plan. I didn’t realise until later that that wasn’t all he didn’t have.” She took a deep breath. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t Jaune have his aura activated?” Pyrrha demanded. “How could you send him off to Beacon not only with no training but without even the most basic thing that he’d need to survive?”

“Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t send Jaune anywhere,” Gold reminded her. “He snuck out to Beacon in the middle of the night without my knowledge.”

“Then why did he have to do that?” Pyrrha replied. “And even if you didn’t necessarily want him to go to Beacon, why not tell him a little more about what it entailed? Would it have been so difficult for you to activate his aura and give him a little rudimentary training in how to use his sword and shield?”

“I didn’t think he could do it.”

“Why not? Because he wasn’t enough of a man for you, for this place?” Pyrrha asked. “Because he wasn’t burly and tall like your son-in-law? Because he couldn’t instantly tame a wild horse when he was younger?”

Gold closed his eyes. “He told you about the horse.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “He told me how disappointed you were.”

“Not because he couldn’t ride the horse!” Gold cried. “I knew he wasn’t going to be able to ride a wild mustang that no one else had managed to tame; I was disappointed that he was stupid enough to think that he could. I was disappointed that he made an ass of himself in front the whole village doing something so stupid. That … that’s why I didn’t activate his aura, that’s why I didn’t train him no matter how much he begged, that’s why I didn’t want to hear about him going to Beacon … I thought it was just that horse in the marketplace all over again, Jaune talking about doing something he obviously couldn’t do. You know he was lucky not to crack his head open when that stallion threw him. He was lucky not to be killed at Beacon; you told me that yourself.”

“Because he wasn’t prepared,” Pyrrha replied. “Because you left him unprepared.”

Gold hesitated. “I didn’t think that he’d go through with it.”

“You didn’t give him any reason to think that he shouldn’t go through with it,” Pyrrha pointed out. “For which, in spite of the fact that Jaune almost died during Initiation, I should probably thank you for, for if Jaune had turned back…”

“You and he—”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I mean, yes, of course, but more importantly than that, our team, and Beacon itself, would have lost … forgive me, but when I think about what Jaune could be right now if you had taken the trouble to train and prepare him for Beacon … it is rather frustrating. The number of people who work as hard as Jaune does, who push themselves as hard as he does … I have a rival who has dedicated herself to defeating me in combat, and I don’t think she pushes herself as hard, works herself as hard, as Jaune does. He is so dedicated to his training, and while some of that may be that he knows how much ground he has to cover to catch up with the rest of us, I’m sure that most of it is simply in his nature. He has saved the lives of both of our teammates, Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose; they would both be dead if it wasn’t for Jaune. I … I have needed him in battle, even though I acted as though I did not. You … you have given the world quite a gift in Jaune, Mister Arc. I’m only sorry that you couldn’t see it.”

“But I am very glad that you could,” Gold said. “Jaune said that you believe in him, and now … now I see what he meant. I think that my son was very lucky to meet you, Pyrrha Nikos. Thank you, for everything.”

Pyrrha got up, recognising a dismissal when she heard it. “I was very lucky to meet him too,” she said, “but I thank you for the compliment.” She bowed her head and turned to go, her red sash trailing after her just a little as she exited the study. The eyes of the stag mounted on the wall seemed to follow her as she departed.

She shut the door behind her, although she had no idea whether Gold Arc would remain there long or not, and was about to go and find Jaune when she heard the voice of his mother behind her.

“Ah, there you are, dear, just finished with Gold?”

Pyrrha turned to face her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, you needn’t call me ma’am, not when you and Jaune are so close,” she said, although that was exactly what she had asked Pyrrha to do last night, and she and Jaune had not gotten noticeably closer since. “You can call me Honeysuckle.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, “that’s very kind.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Honeysuckle replied. “I hope Gold didn’t make you sweat too much in there; it would be a shame to ruin that dress.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “No, I … I’m afraid I might have made him sweat a little more than I did.”

Honeysuckle’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

Pyrrha wondered if this might be a mistake to be so honest with Jaune’s mother, but on the other hand, Gold would undoubtedly tell his wife about it if he had a problem with Pyrrha’s attitude, so she hoped that Honeysuckle, like her husband, would appreciate the honesty and pressed on. “I gave him a little of a hard time, for not preparing Jaune for Beacon.”

“Gold was just trying to keep Jaune safe,” she said. “We all were.”

“I … it isn’t my place to argue your intentions for Jaune, I know,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune can do that for himself, if he wishes, but … Mrs.— Honeysuckle, do you know how Beacon Academy’s Initiation goes? Has Gold ever told you?”

Honeysuckle shook her head. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s the first test of new students at Beacon,” Pyrrha explained. “The means by which students are assigned partners and teams. And it begins by … catapulting new students off a cliff into the forest below.”

Honeysuckle paled. “Goodness me!” she cried. “That sounds—”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Pyrrha said quickly, “because we have something called aura that protects us from harm — up to certain limits, in any case — and because we have trained and so have strategies for how to land more or less safely. Except … except for Jaune.”

Honeysuckle covered his mouth with one hand. “Then how … how?”

Pyrrha clasped her hands together. “I … I stopped his fall,” she murmured.

“You?” Honeysuckle murmured. “You … you saved my baby?”

“That isn’t really the point of—” Pyrrha began, but was interrupted when Honeysuckle Arc enfolded her into an embrace.

“Bless you,” she said. “Bless you, my dear, now why didn’t you say that earlier? If you’d told me sooner that you’d saved Jaune’s life, I wouldn’t have been so … I would have been more supportive.”

Should I really have to tell you that I saved Jaune’s life? Pyrrha wondered. Especially when that wasn’t what I was getting at in the first place? But there seemed little point in arguing; it was all in the past now, and after giving Gold Arc an earful over it, then perhaps it would simply be churlish and rude to blast his mother the same way, especially since there was nothing that she could have done to prepare Jaune for Beacon — except, perhaps, to use her influence on her husband on Jaune’s behalf.

That seemed very petty and shallow grounds for criticism.

“Would you come with me into the kitchen, Pyrrha?” Honeysuckle asked, stepping back and out of the hug. “I needed to start getting a few things ready.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured as Honeysuckle stepped around her and led the way, leaving Pyrrha to follow a couple of steps behind. Her high heels tapped upon the wooden floor, and her skirt and underskirt rustled around her as she walked, and thus, she followed Jaune’s mother into the homely, well-appointed kitchen, where Honeysuckle bent down and began to root around in the spacious cupboards for pots and pans.

“Do you cook, Pyrrha?” she asked, as she placed a large pot down on the side with a metallic rattle.

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “I … growing up we had servants to take care of that sort of thing.”

“'Servants'?” Honeysuckle repeated. “That’s not a word you hear very often any more.”

“Not in Vale, perhaps,” Pyrrha replied. “Although in certain circles in Mistral, it is still reasonably common.”

“Amongst…” Honeysuckle paused for a moment, “noble families, is that the right word?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Many — though not all — of the great families still employ some household staff to cook, to clean, to do laundry—”

“To do all the things that I do?” Honeysuckle said. “That sounds almost ideal.”

Pyrrha wasn’t sure how to respond to that; she couldn’t gauge how serious Honeysuckle was being in her answer, and thus had some difficulty formulating a response. Was she supposed to laugh? To agree? Was there a point being made that Pyrrha would be unable to be a proper wife to Jaune?

Admittedly, if they did move out of Mistral as she had promised Gold they would if Jaune were unhappy there, then she would have a steep learning curve, but … Jaune had had a steep learning curve at Beacon; it didn’t mean that either of them was incapable of learning something new.

But she didn’t want to say that in case she was taking it all too seriously.

Honeysuckle went on, “Aoko says that in a few years, we’ll all have robots to do all of these jobs for us. Or at least, she says that people in Vale will; I’m not sure they’ll catch on here in Alba Longa.”

“I think Aoko might be being a little optimistic,” Pyrrha murmured. “I know that there are some androids designed for personal service, but I’m not sure they’re common, even in Atlas — or at least, they weren’t when I was there last. I’m sure they’ll get there eventually, but perhaps not for a few years yet.”

“You’ve been to Atlas?” Honeysuckle asked. “You’ve travelled, then?”

“Not extensively,” Pyrrha replied softly. “I spent some time at Argus, at the combat school there, Sanctum Academy. I’ve been to various places in Mistral for tournaments and exhibition matches. I went to Atlas for a special match in aid of charity. And of course, I’ve been to Vale and Beacon.”

“Not extensively,” Honeysuckle said, chuckling. “I must say, dear, that certainly sounds pretty extensive to me. Although we have been to Anima a couple of times, for vacations.”

“Whereabouts?” Pyrrha asked. “Mistral?”

“No, we didn’t want to go anywhere near the big cities,” Honeysuckle said. “We camped in the woods near a place called Shion, do you know it?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha said, thinking to herself that it must be a reasonably small place, for she had travelled to tournaments and matches in most well-sized settlements throughout Mistral.

“We got a lot of strange looks when we came back, everyone staring at us as though we’d brought back a disease; it took a while for it all to settle down,” Honeysuckle said. “I think that’s where Saphron got the idea that she wanted to move out there to Argus.” She paused for a moment. “But we had a good time, even if Jaune did have to come into our tent because the girls wouldn’t leave him alone. Jaune…”

She sighed. There was another pause, longer this time, before she said, “A son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life. Do you know that saying?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’ve never heard it before.”

Honeysuckle turned away from her, leaning upon the sink. “Last night,” she said, “I … did Jaune tell you what passed between us last night?

“No,” Pyrrha said. “But I think I might be able to guess.”

“You’ve been very polite about it, if you’ve guessed right,” Honeysuckle said.

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. “I would prefer to win your good opinion than to win an argument.”

Honeysuckle looked at her. “Why?” she asked. “You’re the princess of Mistral—”

“I’m not really—”

“You’re famous, you have a house full of servants back home in Mistral … and you have Jaune’s heart. What does it matter to you what an old woman in some out-of-the-way backwater thinks?”

“It matters a great deal to me what Jaune’s mother thinks,” Pyrrha replied.

Honeysuckle smiled sadly, “A son is a son until he takes a wife,” she repeated.

“Jaune and I aren’t married,” Pyrrha reminded her. Yet.

Honeysuckle’s smile became a little less melancholy, as she said, “When I stood in this kitchen with Jaune and tried to tell him that he … that he wasn’t to go back to that school and that he ought to forget all about you, an outsider, someone who didn’t belong here … he said no. In all his life, Jaune has never said no to me like that before. He told me … he told me that if I didn’t drop it, he’d leave. That if I made him choose, he would choose you.”

“I’m sure he meant that he would choose Beac—”

“Don’t be modest, dear; it doesn’t suit a beautiful girl like you,” Honeysuckle told her. “You’ve got him hooked. From now on, what you think and what you want will always matter more to him than what I think or what I want. You’ve got his heart … so please don’t break it. It’s such a good heart; it always has been.”

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “And I have every intention of holding onto it, firmly but gently.” As I hope he will hold mine in return.

Honeysuckle smiled sweetly at her. “I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot last night. When Jaune showed up with a pretty girl on his arm, I ought to have been overjoyed, considering how often I worried about what would become of him when his father and I passed away. Instead—”

“It hardly matters now,” Pyrrha said softly. “It’s passed and behind us both.” She bowed. “My name is Pyrrha Nikos, and I am delighted to meet you, ma’am.”

She did not see Jaune’s mother approach, but she felt her hands, raising Pyrrha’s head up, and she felt the kisses that Honeysuckle planted on her cheeks.

“Honeysuckle Arc, my dear, you can call me Honeysuckle,” Honeysuckle said. “Pyrrha, that’s a very pretty name, what does it mean?”

“It means ‘Flame coloured’ in Mistralian,” Pyrrha said, reaching up to play with her hair with one hand. Apparently, it had been so vibrant even when she was a newborn babe.

Honeysuckle chuckled, “It suits you very well, obviously. Now, tell me everything about how the two of you have gotten on; I want to hear all the details.”

The door to Violet’s room was painted, well, violet. It was also closed.

Jaune stood in front of it, and knocked on it. “Violet?” he called. “Are you in there?”

There was no answer for a moment, then Violet said, “Is Pyrrha with you?”

“N-no, she isn’t,” Jaune said. “Listen, can I come in, I want to talk to you.”

There was another pause before Violet said, “Okay.”

“Great,” Jaune said, and he opened the door. Violet’s room was not too big — as the youngest children in the family, she and he had been stuck with the smallest rooms by simple virtue of the fact that the big rooms were already taken by their older sisters — with a childish wallpaper of blue with yellow stars that probably should have been replaced by now. A grey stuffed bunny rabbit, a little the worse for age and wear, sat on the bed next to the pillow, and on the bed — crushing the purple quilt a little beneath her — sat Violet with a book in her lap.

She didn’t look up at him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, Jaune,” Violet muttered.

Jaune frowned a little as she sat down on the bed beside her. “What are you reading?”

“It’s about a happy, kind princess who lives in a castle,” Violet said, still not looking up at him. “Her father dotes on her, and she’s engaged to marry a handsome prince who loves her, and everyone adores her.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaune said. “Does she live happily ever after?”

Violet shook her head. “On her wedding day, she hides in an old oak chest in a hidden room in the castle, only the chest locks, and she can’t get out again. Her body is found fifty years later, a skeleton in a wedding dress.”

Jaune winced. “That’s … unfortunate. Why would she want to hide in a chest on her wedding day? Why at all but on her wedding day?”

“I think it was supposed to be a prank, to frighten her husband and father and the guests a little bit.”

“She wasn’t that kind then,” Jaune said.

“She liked to tease,” Violet said. “She liked to tease too much.” She shut the book. “I suppose not every story can have a happy ending.”

“I guess not,” Jaune murmured. “But that one … I don’t know, even if someone did like to tease, it all just seems a little unbelievable to me. Like, how did she know about the secret room but no one else did? I think that they should have found her in the nick of time and gotten her out of the chest.”

“Then what would be the point in that?” Violet asked. “If she doesn’t die, then the story doesn’t mean anything; it’s just…”

“A little scary for her father and her husband, just like the prank was meant to be,” Jaune replied. “A little scary for her too, stuck in that chest. A little scary, a little seems like it might get dark, but then it all turns out okay in the end, like all good stories should.”

“Hmph,” Violet snorted. “But not all of them do.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “Have you been to see Miranda since she came back home?”

“No,” Violet said. “Why would I?”

“Because she’s your friend, or she used to be,” Jaune said. “And because I think that maybe she could use a friend right now.”

“Like you said, she used to be,” Violet said. “Then she left.”

“And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” Jaune asked.

“What?” Violet asked. “I don’t know—”

“Yes,” Jaune said, “you do. The way you act around Pyrrha, the way you talk to her, even after Sky and Rouge and even Mom changed, you’ve just kept on … picking at her. But if your problem is that I left, then take it out on me, because I’m your problem, not Pyrrha; Pyrrha has nothing to do with it.”

“Doesn’t she?” Violet demanded, and now she looked at him, whipping her head round to stare at him with her big blue eyes.

“Pyrrha’s not the reason I left,” Jaune said.

“But she’s the reason why you won’t come back, isn’t she?” Violet replied.

Jaune was silent for a moment. “She’s … Pyrrha is a pretty big reason for that,” he admitted. “But she’s not the only reason.”

“But she is a big reason,” Violet insisted. “Because you … because you don’t want to be parted from her. Because you … because you love her.”

Jaune nodded. “That’s right. That’s all right. I wouldn’t be parted from Pyrrha, not for anything, not for lien or glory or anything else that you could offer me. Because I love her.”

Violet was silent for a moment. “Do you remember … do you remember when you and me and Miranda used to hang out?” she asked. “Do you remember when we hid under one of the tables at River’s wedding and just read?”

Jaune smiled. “Yeah, I remember. I remember Mom was so mad when she found out.” He chuckled. “I suppose we were lucky we only hid under a tablecloth and not in a chest, huh?”

Violet snorted. “If we had hid in a chest and nobody could find us … would they have even bothered to look?”

“Things weren’t that bad,” Jaune said.

“No,” Violet replied. “They weren’t that bad because you were there, and Miranda … and then you both left. You both went off to Vale, and you left me here.”

“I … Violet, I didn’t … I had to go.”

“Why?”

“Because if I hadn’t gone, then I would have missed my chance.”

“So what?”

“So what?” Jaune replied. “Violet, this … this meant everything to me. You were … you and Miranda were the only ones I even dared hint about what I was going to do. Because you were the ones that I trusted, because you were the ones that I thought would understand. You knew that I wanted to leave, and you knew that I wanted to … okay, it sounds stupid now that I wanted to be a big hero like in the comic books, but even so, it was what I wanted. Should I have stayed and been unhappy for—”

“For me?” Violet asked. “No, of course not; I’m not worth it.”

“Violet, I didn’t mean—”

“I thought that you would always be there for me,” Violet declared. “But then you left, and even now that you’ve come back, you’ll be going away again, and … it’s her. You’re with Pyrrha now, and … and she’s the one you’ll always be there for.”

She turned away again, but the fact that she wiped at her eye with one hand gave Jaune a pretty clear idea about her expression.

Gingerly, tentatively, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I … Violet, I’m sorry if you thought that I abandoned you—”

“You did abandon me!” Violet snapped.

“Okay, I guess I kind of did,” Jaune admitted. “But that’s still not Pyrrha’s fault, so even if you hate me for what I did, could you please try and be a little nicer to her? For…” He realised that asking ‘for my sake’ might not carry much weight with Violet anymore. “Please?”

Violet didn’t say anything for a little while. “How is it that you’re able to stand up to everyone now? Sky and Rouge and Mom? Sky and Rouge were going to make you stay, they were going to tell you how it was, and you were going to sit down just like you always did. Only … you didn’t.”

“I guess … I guess I grew up a little, at Beacon.”

“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“It isn’t really much like I dreamed it would be at all,” Jaune admitted. “The only part where I can even kind of say that my dreams came true is … well, is Pyrrha.”

“Perfect Pyrrha,” Violet muttered.

“Please stop,” Jaune begged. “If you’d just give her a chance, try to get to know her … she’s beautiful, talented, kind, brave, smart. I couldn’t find anyone else like her in a hundred years, even if I wanted to.” He paused, and a sigh escaped him, leading him to sag forwards just a little. “Everything else … it turned out to be a lot different than how I thought it would be. But at the same time … it’s better. What I thought it would be was just a dream, but I’ve found something real, something that matters. What I’m doing matters.” Again, he paused for a moment. “Violet, what is it that you want to do? What do you want? If you could do anything at all, go anywhere, be anyone, then what would it be?”

“What I want?” Violet repeated. “What I want is … what I’d do is…”

“Violet?”

“I can’t tell you,” Violet said. “What would be the point?”

“The point is that you can tell me,” Jaune insisted. “The point is that you can’t just say that it won’t happen so why bother trying. Violet … if there’s something that you want, you have to fight for it, even if it means leaving home, even if it means taking risks, because I can tell you, from experience, that if you take that risk … the rewards are so, so worth it. So come on, spit it out.”

Violet hesitated for a moment, and glanced furtively at him, before she murmured, “I … I’d like to go to Mistral,” she said.

“It is beautiful,” Jaune said. “But what would you do there?”

“Study, at the Imperial College.”

“Study what?” Jaune asked.

“Myths and Legends, History, Literature, Old Mistralian, anything they’d let me,” Violet said.

“Then do it,” Jaune said. “Work for it, get there, get a place, get to class, just do it! Don’t sit around here wishing that you could, because before too long, that will turn into sitting around wishing that you had.”

He put one arm around his younger sister.

“You’re right,” he conceded, “we’ll never be as close as we used to be. Not because of Pyrrha, but because I’m far away now. But if you get yourself to Mistral, if you go down that road, if you follow your own dreams, the way I followed mine, then you’ll find people who are closer to you than we ever were to one another, people who choose to be close to you, to be like a second family to you.”

“Like the other girls in that picture you sent to Mom?” Violet asked.

“Exactly,” Jaune agreed. “They’re out there somewhere, waiting for you; you just have to be willing to take that first step.”

Violet leaned against him. “But what if they don’t let me go?” she asked.

“Then run away in the middle of the night, like I did,” Jaune said. “Don’t take that seriously, by the way, Sky and Kendal would kill me.”

Violet laughed. “I love you, Jaune.”

Jaune squeezed her a little tighter. “I love you too, little sister.”

Part of the Family (New)

Part of the Family

Jaune’s room was much as he had left it. In fact, it was exactly as he had left it, on the night that he had crept out of the house and stolen away to Beacon.

Perhaps everyone had left it the way it was in case he came back.

Assuming as they had done that he would come back at some point.

Either way, that was behind them now; the fact remained that they had left his room just as it was: the same superhero posters up on the walls, the same books on the shelves, the same cartoon quilt — yes, he should have grown out of that sometime ago, but he’d never seen the need to change it; it did its job, after all — on the bed. Everything was just as it had been. Nothing had changed, except him.

He was not the same Jaune Arc that he had been when he had slipped away to chase his dreams. He was older, of course; stronger, without doubt, thanks to Pyrrha’s patient tutelage; wiser? Maybe he was wiser, although he could call himself more worldly with a little more accuracy and less chance of being wrong. It would have been hard not to be more worldly now than he had been when he had left, given that he had known so little of the world then. He knew more now. He knew more of Vale, more of Mistral, more of Atlas, more of Remnant itself and all that made it up. He had seen things, done things, and those things that he had seen and done had left him changed.

He was … was he a man? He had been a boy when he had left, was he a man now? Jaune … Jaune was not sure. His father had told him that Beacon had made him a man, but Jaune himself … he didn’t know. He couldn’t say for certain. He still wasn’t much like Rueben, wasn’t much like what many here in Alba Longa would call a man, so maybe he remained a boy.

Or maybe it was them who were wrong, and to be a man was something different than they imagined.

Perhaps it could be, at least.

Such thoughts were a distraction. A distraction that Jaune could ill afford right now, because it was the night of his Dad’s birthday, and he, Jaune, could not find his suit.

He had packed it. He knew that he had packed it. He was absolutely cast iron certain that he had packed it — but, just to be sure, he had called Sunset and asked her to root through his stuff back at Beacon; she had done so and found no more trace of a suit there than he had found here.

Jaune had turned out his case, dumped everything that he had brought with him onto the bed; it had been very untidily packed in; he’d thought that he’d done a better job than that; either nerves had made him pack badly, or else they had made him forget just how badly he had packed. In any case, he had dumped everything out of his case and onto the cartoon quilt of the bed, and he had found no suit. In fact, he hadn’t been able to find anything connected with a suit: no jacket, no trousers, no shirt, no bow tie; even his cufflinks were missing. Surely, he couldn’t have forgotten everything; he wasn’t that stupid.

And yet, judging by what he had or had not packed, he really was that stupid. The only thing he had were shoes and only because he’d worn them on the train down here.

Where was it? Where was his suit? And if he’d forgotten to pack it, then why couldn’t Sunset find it either back at Beacon? Had a grimm eaten it while he wasn’t looking?

Jaune took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. This was just like training, stay calm, don’t get emotional, don’t think about the fact that the party was about to start and he had nothing to wear and what was he going to do?

How had this happened?

There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Jaune?” Kendal called. “Are you decent in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune replied. “Sort of.”

“'Sort of'?” Kendal asked.

“You can come in; it’s fine,” Jaune said. Even though it really isn’t.

The door opened, revealing not only Kendal, but River too. Kendal was still wearing her green tank top and shorts, but River was already dressed up in a shimmering one shoulder, one piece mermaid gown of shimmering sky blue. A bracelet of blue gemstones glimmered around her right wrist.

“Are you okay, Jaune?” River asked.

“Not really,” Jaune admitted. “I can’t find my suit anywhere. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find it. I can’t even find a single bit of it.”

Kendal and River looked at one another.

“Yeah,” River murmured. “About that…”

“What?” Jaune demanded. “What is it?”

“I … I was making a final check for Rouge,” Kendal said. “And I found … well … this is what I found.” She produced a black jacket from behind her, his black jacket, stained with mud.

Or at least Jaune very much hoped that it was mud.

“My suit!” Jaune cried. “How did … where was it?”

Kendal winced. “In the compost heap.”

“'The compost heap'?” Jaune repeated incredulously. “How did it get there?”

“We didn’t put it there,” Kendal said defensively.

“I know, I know, I just…” Jauned trailed off.

Someone had put it there, and as much as the door was open, and it could, theoretically, have been anyone, it was more likely to be someone from inside the house than someone coming in from town. But yeah, Kendal wouldn’t have done this, and neither would River.

It didn’t really matter who’d done it, at this point. Sure, it was incredibly petty of whoever it was — and Jaune had a pretty good idea of who it was — to do something like this tonight of all nights, very mature, but there were more important things to worry about than that.

Things like what he was going to do now.

“Did you find the rest?” Jaune asked.

Kendal nodded. “We’ve put everything else in the wash.”

“Thanks, but there’s no way it’ll wash and dry in time,” Jaune said. He thought quickly; he didn’t have long to come up with an alternative. He still had his blazer. He could always just throw it over his hoodie or a plain t-shirt; a lot of people probably wouldn’t notice that he was improperly dressed. That would be the easy thing to do. He could do that, and probably, no one would say anything.

Pyrrha certainly wouldn’t say anything, even though he would be wearing a t-shirt and a school blazer, and she would be … well, he hadn’t seen exactly what Pyrrha would be wearing yet, but he bet that it would look absolutely beautiful. She would be gorgeous, she would be radiant, she would be exquisite, and he would be … no, he couldn’t do that. Even if she wouldn’t mind, even if she wouldn’t say anything, he ought to try and make an effort to dress up to her level, at least for tonight.

“Excuse me,” he said, walking towards the doorway and his sisters.

River and Kendal made way for him, moving aside to let him out into the upstairs corridor. Jaune headed down the corridor, towards his parents’ room which sat at the very end of the house. River and Kendal followed after him, the tapping of River’s high heels alternating with the duller thumping sounds of Kendal’s boots.

Jaune realised as he approached the door that however this turned out, he was probably going to look mildly ridiculous, but at least he would look as though he’d made an effort.

He reached his parents’ bedroom door and knocked on it.

“Who is it?” Dad called out from inside.

“It’s Jaune,” Jaune said. “Dad, I need to ask a favour. Oh, River and Kendal are out here too.”

There was a moment’s pause before the door opened. His Dad stood in the doorway, wearing a vest and his suit trousers, the braces already over his shoulders. His right cheek, but not the left, was covered in shaving cream.

“Do you all need favours?” he asked.

“No, Dad, it’s just me,” Jaune said. “I need to borrow a suit.”

“You came all this way without a suit?” his father asked incredulously.

“No, Dad, I had a suit with me; I just can’t wear it because … the point is that I need to borrow a suit; do you have anything that I can wear tonight? I … I want to look like I at least tried to look good.”

His Dad smiled knowingly. “I get it,” he said. “I mean, I still don’t get why you can’t wear the suit that you apparently brought with you, but whatever, let’s go with it. Now … you are a little trimmer around the waist than I am, I’ve got to admit, but when I was about your age … you can wear my wedding tux; that ought to fit you. It’ll be close enough anyway.”

“Your wedding tux?” River repeated. “You kept the suit you wore at your wedding?”

“Yep,” Dad declared. “I kept it in case, one day, I would have a son who would be without a suit for a special occasion.”

“Really?” Jaune asked.

“No, not really; I kept it because I wore it on the day I married your mother,” Dad said. “And also in case I had a son who could wear it on his wedding day.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “Dad, that … I mean, it’ll kind of ruin the moment if I wear it tonight.”

“Well, you can get your own suit for your wedding, then see if you can manage to pass it on to your son … or else pressure your prospective son-in-law into wearing it by claiming it’s an old family tradition. Now, do you want the suit or not?”

“Yes!” Jaune said quickly. “Yes, I’ll take it.”

“Then come on in,” Dad said. “I’ll get it out of the closet for you.”

Jaune followed his father into the bedroom, where Dad opened the big walk-in closet built into, well, the wall. He reached inside and pulled out a gold suit. A completely gold suit.

“What do you think?” Dad asked proudly.

Jaune blinked. “It … it’s gold,” he said.

“I know!”

“You married Mom in a gold suit?”

“Well, it is my name,” Dad reminded him. “And it is the colour on our family crest.”

That was true, Jaune supposed, but still … a gold suit. There was a chance that he’d be less embarrassed in jeans and a t-shirt.

But if he did wear jeans and a t-shirt, then he’d look wrong with Pyrrha hanging off his arm in whatever she’d be wearing tonight; he might even look like he didn’t care enough to make any kind of effort for his girlfriend or his father.

Wearing this, at worst, he’d look just a little silly.

And, honestly, yes, it was a bit of a shock when you first saw it, but the more you looked at it … it didn’t look half bad.

“So?” Dad asked. “Do you want it?”

Jaune reached out to take the coat hanger from his father’s unresisting hand. “Yes,” he said, “yes, I want it.” He smiled. “Thanks Dad, this has … this has just saved my night.”

Dad chuckled, and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, Jaune,” he said.

“I know,” Jaune said. “Trust me, I know.”

“Now get out of here,” Dad said. “I still have to finish getting ready myself.”

Jaune left, pausing only to acquire a shirt — a dress shirt which was also gold, albeit a paler gold than the suit — before leaving Dad to shave and do whatever else he needed to do before he finished getting ready. With River and Kendal in tow, he returned to his own room.

“So … you’re going to wear that?” River asked. “You could always have just asked Chester to borrow a suit.”

“This … this might not be something that I’d choose to wear,” Jaune admitted. “But come on, this is the suit Dad wore to get married in; that’s kind of neat, don’t you think?”

“It’s kind of old, don’t you think?” River replied.

“It’s going to work out, River,” Jaune insisted.

At least, he hoped it would.

Pyrrha hummed gently to herself as she fastened her gorget around her neck.

After a rough start, she thought, her visit with Jaune’s family had gone rather well. Violet had apologised to her last night; now, all of Jaune’s sisters seemed to approve of her, with the possible exception of Aoko, whose opinion on these matters was hard to gauge. And Jaune’s mother and father both seemed … accepting at the very least.

It was what she’d wanted.

They liked her. They might not have wanted to, they might still have some worries which, honestly, were not unjustified, but they liked her. They would accept her as part of their family, if and when — hopefully when — Jaune decided to make her so.

Although, that reminded her that if and when that happened — again, hopefully when — they would need to talk about last names.

Still, that could wait. All of that sort of thing could wait. She was getting very far ahead of herself. Jaune hadn’t even proposed yet, and probably wouldn’t until after they graduated in any event.

There would be plenty of time for all of that later. For now, she was content that Jaune’s family did not hate the idea of the two of them together.

For now, that was quite enough.

For now, Mister Arc’s birthday party was about to begin, and she was almost ready.

Pyrrha had gotten a shower, come back to Kendal’s room, and got out her gown, the best gown that she had packed, quite possibly the best gown she owned. She had got it out, looked at it, and in the process of looking at it, she had wondered if it might not be a bit too much.

Quite possibly, it was a bit much — it was, Pyrrha had to admit, rather a lot, but she liked it, she thought that it was very nice, and at least everyone would be dressing up tonight. They might not be dressing up quite as much as Pyrrha herself, but they would be dressing up, and Pyrrha could hardly be faulted for doing the same.

Besides, she liked it, and she hoped that Jaune would like it too.

And so, she had put on the dress; it might have been considered a frivolous use of Polarity to fasten her gown up the back where Pyrrha found it hard to reach, but in the absence of Iris or Hestia to assist her, it was very convenient to have such a semblance.

Pyrrha’s gown was gold, or at least it looked so from the outside, although it had to be admitted that the innermost layer of the skirt was pale yellow. Almost all of that skirt, however, was concealed from view beneath the peplum of gold which covered all but a triangular slit at the front, descending from the waist and widening out in front of Pyrrha. Around the hem of the peplum was the same pale yellow as the underskirt, a solid line with some undulating arches above. A sash of gold ran around the skirt, somewhere between the level of her ankles and knees, in waves, rising up and down, up and down, and at each point where the wave crested were embroidered onto the dress a multitude of beautiful white camellias — three large camellias on either side directly before her, at the edges of the peplum, and then only two at each point as the sash curved around the sides of the dress — and amongst the flowers, verdant green leaves and great gleaming pearls, each larger than Pyrrha’s thumb. A second layer of overskirt, also gold and trimmed at the edges with pale yellow, fell down behind her at the back, almost like the train of a wedding gown, save that it did not actively trail behind her.

The bodice was shoulderless, and in shape, it very much resembled Pyrrha’s cuirass, even as the golden colour recalled the gilded armour in the centre of the same; here, however, the gold was on either side of her, and in the centre, there were more camellias, a riot of white camellias — and leaves and gleaming pearls accompanying them — that seemed to be bursting out of her from inside the bodice, pushing the two sides of the dress apart as they blossomed and bloomed as she had bloomed, with Jaune, at Beacon.

The bodice hugged her figure, clinching at her waist, but above the waist was bound a golden chain, almost like a belt that was trying to keep her dress together and stop the flowers from bursting out from within it, and in the centre of the chain was set a great emerald, set in elaborate curling gold and by five lesser emeralds arranged around it, almost as the five lesser stars were arrayed around the greater in Twilight Sparkle’s symbol.

Her dress had no sleeves, but Pyrrha’s arms were not completely bare; cream-coloured gloves enclosed her hands and kept her arms concealed from view up to just below her elbows, while on her right arm, she wore her honour band. She had not brought any extra jewellery with her to Alba Longa that was not directly part of one of her dresses, and so, around her neck she wore her usual gorget, while upon her brow sat her glittering circlet, and from the circlet hung the chains with their teal drops upon them. Her long red hair fell down behind her in a ponytail reaching past her waist.

“You look nice,” Kendal observed from behind her. “You make me look a little underdressed, but … you look nice.”

Pyrrha turned to face her. Kendal herself wore a dress of that same shade of green that gave her her name, but it was a rather plain dress and mostly devoid of decoration; the skirt, though it flared outwards in a bell shape, extended only to her knees, leaving her legs bare to the strap-on green heels she wore on her feet. An illusion neckline half covered the space between the bodice and her neck. A yellow sash, wrapped around her waist and tied in a little bow upon her left side, was all the adornment that the dress possessed, and Kendal wore little enough other adornment besides: nothing but a slender band of gold sitting around her right wrist.

“I … I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “It wasn’t my intent to—”

Kendal raised a hand to forestall her. “I was kidding; don’t worry about it. The truth is, I’ve never really cared for dressing up, but for those who do? Good luck to them. As I say, you look nice. You probably look a lot more than nice to someone who appreciates that sort of thing better.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Kendal looked as though she wanted to say something else. Or perhaps she wanted to laugh; it was hard to tell. Her mouth opened, but then it closed again as Kendal turned away. She covered her mouth with one hand, then balled that hand into a fist as though she wanted to bite into it, then opened it again and lowered her hand to her side, all without saying anything.

“Is everything alright?” Pyrrha asked, taking half a step closer to Jaune’s sister, her gown trailing a little on the floor behind her.

“No,” Kendal said quickly, “no, everything’s fine.” She paused for a moment. “Is there anything that Jaune could do that would embarrass you?”

“Embarrass me?” Pyrrha repeated. “I … that I can imagine that he might do? No, not that I can think of.”

“There are things that would embarrass you that you can’t imagine that Jaune would do?” Kendal asked.

“Obviously, if he cheated on me, that would be … I would be humiliated, as well as heartbroken,” Pyrrha murmured. “But Jaune would never do that; he is too kind. Even if … even if I lost his heart, he would still tell me so first. Why do you ask, if you don’t mind telling me?”

“Oh, no reason at all,” Kendal said, although the smile playing upon her face suggested that there was a reason, just one that she’d rather not divulge to Pyrrha. And, if that was the case, then Pyrrha was prepared to respect that. Doubtless, she would find out for herself what had brought this on, but she doubted that she would, in fact, find it embarrassing.

As she had said to Kendal, the only things that Jaune could do that would embarrass her were so out of his nature that she could scarcely conceive of them.

The window to Kendal’s room was open, and the cool evening air carried with it the sounds of a crowd gathering outside — Pyrrha had found out that this birthday party was not simply a family affair, but one to which a good chunk of Alba Longa was invited; that was one of the reasons the party was being held outside — although on the other side of the house, so that Pyrrha could see nothing by looking out of the window.

It was, in a sense, the most familiar thing to Pyrrha that she had encountered since coming here to Alba Longa; this village was not Mistral in any sense, but the way that the gathering was not just for the family, nor for the guest of honour, but for the community as a whole, that was something she was very familiar with. She was reminded of her own birthday parties, of the balls in the ballroom, of the meals in the great dining hall, of the lords and councillors who had attended. She had found them all to be very dull affairs, that her mother had enjoyed far more than she did. Pyrrha herself … she had often felt more like part of the decoration than the guest of honour: something to be seen, something to be appreciated upon an aesthetic level, not someone to be connected with, certainly not the person whom all of this was supposedly in honour of.

She wondered if Gold Arc felt the same way about his parties.

Probably not. Possibly not, at any case. Even in Mistral, there were those who felt differently; Pyrrha had attended Juturna Rutulus’ birthday parties — not because she knew that younger Rutulus particularly well, but because it was expected both that Juturna should invite her and that she should accept — and she always seemed to be enjoying herself very much.

In any case, one could read too much into comparisons. Whatever was waiting outside was probably not going to be just like a Mistral party.

“Anyway,” Kendal said, “are you ready?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “yes, I think I am.”

Kendal nodded, and smiled, and crossed quickly to the bedroom door, opening it to reveal Terra just passing in front of the doorway as it opened. She was wearing silver, a shimmering silver gown with an asymmetrical skirt that left her legs visible before her while trailing after her, and a halter neck that left her arms bare, save for the bracelets of amber and white pearls, the luminescent gems alternating with the yellow stones in stacked bracelets climbing up her arms.

Terra stopped as the door opened to regard them both. “Hello,” she said, before letting out an appreciative whistle. “You look incredible.”

Pyrrha let out a chuckle. “Is that really something a married woman should be saying?”

Terra laughed.

“You look very lovely yourself,” Pyrrha said. “Those bracelets are beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Terra said. “I made them myself.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “You make jewellery?”

“I’m not a jeweller or anything,” Terra said, “but my aunt left me one of those old-fashioned pearl necklaces, you know the type; they’re six foot long or longer and designed to be wrapped three times around your neck, and they still reach down past your waist? Anyway, I had that, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to wear it, but I also had this box of amber that Honeysuckle gave us as a wedding present, so I thought, why not combine the two of them? So I had the amber made into beads and then strung them and the pearls into bracelets. I think they turned out pretty well.”

“They certainly did,” Pyrrha agreed. “And such a great way of using the two gifts.”

“Maybe you should become a jeweller,” Kendal suggested.

“That might be less stressful,” Terra replied. “But I’m not sure that we could afford our brownstone in Argus on what I’d make selling artisan jewellery.”

“What is it that you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Pyrrha.

“I’m a technician on the CCT relay in the city,” Terra answered.

“You’re an Atlesian soldier?”

“No, I’m a civilian contractor working for the military,” Terra said. She smiled and held out her hand. “Now, shall we go dazzle our Arcs together?”

Kendal snorted and stepped out a little in front of the other two, while Pyrrha stepped forward. She reached out and placed her gloved hand into Terra’s open palm, feeling the other woman’s fingers close around it.

Thus, hand in hand, they followed Kendal down the corridor to the top of the stairs. And then, although the volume of Pyrrha’s gown meant that Terra had to walk on the step in front of her, rather than side by side, they descended slowly, each step revealing a little more of themselves to those below.

Jaune and Saphron — along with Kendal, who had descended the stairs first — were waiting for them in the dining room. Saphron was wearing an orange dress with a scallop neckline and a daffodil print pattern on it, while Jaune…

Jaune was wearing a gold suit. The jacket and the trousers alike were both equally gold, and they must have been made out of a similar material to Terra’s dress, because it shimmered and almost seemed to sparkle in the dining room lights. His shoes were black, and his bowtie and gloves were white, but his waistcoat and dress shirt were both a pale gold, much the same shade as Pyrrha’s inner skirt.

He was very bright, very shiny, and not at all what Pyrrha had expected.

He also looked rather wonderful. Pyrrha had sometimes wondered why men’s suits in Atlas and Vale had to be so conservative — an especial irony in the case of Vale, which had fought the greatest war in the history of mankind for the right to be colourful. In Mistral, men felt no shame in making parrots and peacocks of themselves, with togas and other garments in an array of colourful hues, and those that did not do so tended to be making rather obscure points by it, like wearing black to ostentatiously mourn the passing of traditional virtues.

She just hoped that Jaune hadn’t done this for her sake; she didn’t want him to feel as though he had to conform to her culture.

But other than that niggling fear, she liked it. She liked it very much indeed.

She liked it so much that she found herself staring, even as Terra moved to join Saphron, who greeted her with a loving kiss.

Fortunately, Jaune was staring too, so if it looked odd or awkward, then at least they were odd or awkward together.

Jaune’s mouth opened, but it took a little time after that for him to speak. In fact, he wasn’t quite able to speak, a string of sounds emerged from her mouth but did not rise to the level of actual words.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha felt a flush of colour rise to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured as she walked towards him, reaching out with one gloved hand to take his hand in hers. “You look very wonderful yourself.”

“Really?” Jaune yelped in surprise, and to Pyrrha’s surprise, Kendal said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Is this what you thought might embarrass me?”

Kendal shrugged. “Well … he is very—”

“Dazzling,” Pyrrha finished for her, while standing up on her toes to give Jaune a kiss on the cheek, to show that she meant no insult by it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jaune looked down at her, his face very red and his eyes very bright, courtesy of the beaming smile upon his face. He looked down upon her and, with his free hand, reached out and cupped her face.

Then he bent down to her and gave her far more than just a kiss on the cheek.

Pyrrha took a deep breath when the kiss was done, her bosom heaving a little. She caught the amused looks on the face of Saphron and Terra — they were not being at all subtle about it — and smiled sheepishly.

“Shall we head out and join the party?” Saphron suggested.

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed, and Saphron and Terra led the way, heading out of the dining room towards the back of the house, and thence outwards into the back garden. Kendal followed, grinning at Jaune over her shoulder as she went, and then Jaune and Pyrrha went last.

Jaune offered Pyrrha the crook of his arm, which she accepted with a smile, slipping her hand into it and placing it gently upon his elbow.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend to like the suit if you don’t want to,” he murmured.

“I’m not pretending,” Pyrrha insisted. “I love it. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Well, I mean … it’s not a normal colour,” Jaune pointed out.

“That depends on where in Remnant you are,” Pyrrha reminded him. “And anyway, even if it wasn’t normal, what of that? Gold suits you.”

“It does?”

“It’s the colour of your aura, the colour of your soul itself,” Pyrrha said. “How could it not suit you?”

Jaune chuckled and held up his other hand for a moment as he activated his semblance. His hand was wreathed in a gold which, while undoubtedly lighter, was not a million miles away from the suit jacket he was wearing.

His semblance died down, and Jaune lowered his hand again. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. “But Jaune … if you didn’t think that suit was proper to wear, then why did you wear it? And where did you get it? I didn’t know you had anything like that.”

Jaune laughed nervously, although Pyrrha couldn’t yet work out why. “Well, you see … this suit … it’s actually my Dad’s suit. As a matter of fact, it’s the suit he wore on his wedding day, if you can believe it.”

Pyrrha stared at him, her green eyes widening. The suit that your father wore on his wedding day?

Jaune’s father’s wedding suit. The suit that Gold Arc had married in. And now, Jaune was wearing it, to escort her.

Oh, Jaune.

Pyrrha felt her heart begin to beat just a little faster. She wrapped both hands around Jaune’s elbow and leaned against him as a blissfully contented smile settled on her face.

“Uh, Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, surprised. “Pyrrha, are you…?” He trailed off and did not protest.

Judging by the way that he bent his head and kissed her on top of the head, Pyrrha would say he rather liked it.

They emerged out of the house and into the garden, which was illuminated by strings of white lights stretched between the trees, so that it was almost as if the stars themselves had descended from the skies to provide greater illumination for the Arc family.

There were a great many people already in attendance, men in suits and women in dresses, gathered either around the long wooden buffet tables that groaned under the weight of all the food on offer, or at the bar, where a young man in a plaid shirt was serving champagne.

Rouge was wearing a fiery red dress that trailed behind her on the grass as she greeted and directed people, sometimes shaking hands and sometimes gesturing this way or that. River sat upon a makeshift stage in a sky blue dress, playing the violin; Chester sat beside her in a white suit with no tie, playing the flute; the music was soft, gentle and inviting, not music to dance to, but music to set the ambience while everyone arrived. Aoko was wearing a suit of plum purple and getting the knees dirty as she knelt upon the ground, tinkering with a pair of giant speakers. Rueben wore all black and stalked around the edges of the party with a champagne glass in his hand.

The only members of the Arc family that Pyrrha couldn’t see were Sky and, of course, Gold and Honeysuckle Arc, who would, of course, be the last to arrive.

“Your family has done well,” Pyrrha remarked.

“My sisters do know how to throw a party,” Jaune replied. “Would you like something to drink?”

Pyrrha thought for a moment. “Alright,” she said, “I suppose…” She caught sight of someone else amidst the crowd, someone standing alone in that same crowd, someone whom the crowd moved around without really seeming to notice. “Miranda?”

Miranda Wells was also wearing black, a dress of black velvet with a slight glossiness to it that seemed to reflect back a little of the light that fell on it. The dress embraced her, hugging her curves and then falling straight down to the ground around her. It had an illusive neckline, and her sleeves were likewise made up of that same almost sheer fabric, as if she were wearing tights upon her arms. Her hair was loose and fell down around and behind her head.

She had been glancing downwards at the ground, but at the sound of Pyrrha’s voice, she looked up. “Jaune?” she said. “Pyrrha?” She moved towards them, squeezing in between people, murmuring her apologies as she got in the way, coming closer until she stood in front of them. “Hey,” she said. “I heard you were back in town.”

“We…” Jaune trailed off. “I should have come and visited you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Miranda said.

“Is it?” Jaune asked sceptically.

“Yes,” Miranda repeated. “I … you’re here for your Dad’s birthday, right? You don’t need to … you didn’t need to come.”

“Okay,” Jaune murmured, not sounding entirely convinced. “I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“I can’t shut myself up in my room forever, can I?” Miranda replied. “And besides, if I didn’t show for just a little bit, that would be just rude, wouldn’t it? So, Jaune, how’s it been, coming back home? Have they tried to get you to stay yet?”

“On the very first night I was back,” Jaune said.

Miranda smiled, though it was a sad smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Did it work? Is Pyrrha going back to Beacon by herself?”

“Pfft, no!” Jaune cried. “Like I would ever agree to that.”

“Don’t give me that ‘pfft,’ Jaune Arc; we both know full well that you never used to stand up to your mother or your sisters,” Miranda declared. She glanced at Pyrrha. “Did he stand up to them?”

Pyrrha nodded. “With immense dignity.”

“Dignity, now that’s not a word I thought I’d hear associated with Jaune Arc,” Miranda replied. “I guess Beacon really did bring out a whole new side of you. And you brought Pyrrha back home with you.” To Pyrrha, she asked, “How are you finding our little town? How are you finding the little minds of our little town?”

“It was a difficult start, I admit,” Pyrrha murmured. “But it turned around very quickly.”

Miranda fell silent for a moment. “I heard you killed that grimm,” she said, “the one that trashed the McKinley place.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “We did.”

Miranda closed her eyes. “I thought that … I thought that here would be one place they wouldn’t come,” she muttered. She opened her eyes again. “Do you think there’ll be more?”

“No,” Jaune said at once.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they don’t come around here,” Jaune said. “It’s … it’s just a fluke, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about. It happened, we took care of it, doesn’t mean it will happen again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Miranda whispered. “I really hope you’re right.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed. “Are you planning to stay here forever? Or might you leave again, when you feel a little … better?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted. “My mom is determined to keep me here — she doesn’t trust me not to leave again — but … being here has kind of reminded me of why I left in the first place. Technically, college has finished classes right now, and I got a message from one of my professors reminding me that I can have my place back if I want it, but … going back to Vale…”

“I know it’s scary,” Jaune said, “but you can’t be ruled by fear. You can’t let it control you. You especially can’t let it curb your life, make you settle for less than what you want out of it.”

Miranda was silent for a moment. “When did you start to sound so smart?” she asked.

Jaune didn’t answer that, or rather was prevented from answering that by a great cheer from the crowd as Gold and Honeysuckle Arc emerged to join the party. Jaune and Pyrrha — and Miranda too — joined in the applause as Gold made his way, waving to people as he went up onto the stage, where River and Chester played a few last flourishing notes upon their instruments and then fell silent.

There was a microphone up on stage, and Gold stood in front of it, one hand shoved into his pockets.

He leaned forwards a little as he began to speak. “I know that a lot of you are only here for the free drinks, so I’ll make this quick,” he said, garnering some laughter that swept across the crowd in a gentle wave of chuckling. “First of all, I want to thank my family … I want to thank my family for everything; you really make it worthwhile, growing old so I can spend more time with you; everyone, please, give it up, for my wonderful wife, my beautiful and talented daughters, and my brave son, Jaune, huntsman in training, home from Beacon; I couldn’t be prouder; please, join me, put your hands together for all of them.”

Jaune did not applaud. As the guests began to applaud, he looked as though he could hardly believe that some share in that applause was for him. His hands hung limp by his sides, his eyes a little wide, a stunned look on his face as though he had been struck over the head.

But Pyrrha applauded, she clapped her hands together vigorously, and as she did so, she gave Jaune a little nudge with her elbow to remind him, in case he forgot or convinced himself otherwise, that she was applauding him.

Congratulations, Jaune; you deserve this.

“But more particularly,” Gold went on, as the applause began to die down, “I would like to thank my family for putting together this party, for all of this food, for the music, for making sure that we can have a great time. And thank you, all of you, whoever the hell you are.” More laughter rang through the crowd. “Thank you all for coming; it’s great to see so many friends here, come to—”

He was cut off by the sound of a police siren. Pyrrha turned around, as indeed did almost everyone else, to see a police car, with a crest on it that Pyrrha could not really make out in the darkness, driving up towards the party with its lights flashing. The siren had only wailed for a brief time, but as the police car approached, the siren whooped again for a few seconds.

The car pulled up on the outskirts of the party, and Sky got out, dressed in her sheriff’s uniform and holding a red bullhorn in one hand. She spoke into the bullhorn, her voice echoing out across the crowd.

“I’m really sorry, folks,” Sky said, “but I’m going to have to break up this party; this is an illegal gathering, in violation of town law.” As she spoke, Pyrrha spotted Rouge and Kendal making their way towards Sky’s car. She thought that they might be going to speak to her, to plead with her, but instead, they ignored her, walking around behind her to the back of the car.

“What law?” Gold demanded.

Rouge opened the door behind Sky and bent inside.

“The law,” Sky said, “against having a birthday party without a cake!” As she spoke, Rouge emerged, carrying an enormous three-tiered birthday cake, covered in layers of icing of all the different colours of the rainbow, with fizzing sparklers set in the upper tiers, crackling as they spat off colourful sparks. Rouge staggered a little under the weight, and Kendal rushed to help her support it.

The crowd cheered as they began to carry the cake towards the buffet table, the gathered guests parting to give them an easier way there.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Sky shouted through the bullhorn, prompting another cheer from the assembled revellers.

Gold laughed. “And that’s why the first thing I did was thank my children,” he said. “Now, who wants to dance?”

The crowd began to clear a space on the green as River and Chester took up their instruments again. There was a moment of pause, then River nodded, and she and her husband began to play a slow waltz.

Gold jumped down off the stage and held out his hand towards his wife. Honeysuckle joined him, placing her hand in his and allowing him to take her in hold. They began to sway across the grass, locked in an embrace, and to Pyrrha’s eyes, it looked less as though Gold were leading the way and more that they both knew the steps so very well that they could move in perfect synchronisation with each other.

For a moment, no one else danced. Pyrrha wondered why, if perhaps people were leaving the first dance for Gold and Honeysuckle alone, but then she followed Jaune’s gaze towards where Rouge stood at the edge of the green dancefloor, alone, hands clasped in front of her.

Pyrrha noticed that others were looking at Rouge as well; they were waiting for her to be the next to dance.

But Rueben stood apart and made no move to dance with her.

Pyrrha could not help but feel a swell of contempt for the man. What could compel him to treat his own wife thus?

Jaune frowned, then swallowed, then turned to Pyrrha. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Pyrrha blinked. “I would … are you sure? Rouge—”

“The quicker that other people start dancing, the quicker people will stop looking at her,” Jaune said. “Plus … I want to, don’t you?”

Pyrrha beamed. “I would love to,” she replied.

And so, Jaune took her hand and put his other hand upon her waist, and the feeling of his fingers pressed against her so made Pyrrha’s heart flutter.

And then he pressed her close against him and swept her out onto the dance floor.

It was a wonderful night. Anything else would simply be verbiage around that one point: it was a wonderful night. Every dance she danced with Jaune — and she danced many dances with Jaune that night — was wonderful. His gold suit sparkled under the lights strung up above them so that he seemed at times to be less a man and more some kind of ethereal being that had decided to bless her with his presence. Pyrrha had told Kendal that she could not imagine he would do anything to embarrass her, and he held her so gently that she could not believe he would do anything to hurt her either.

She danced with other men that night, as Jaune danced with other women; he danced with Miranda once or twice, the only one who asked her to dance; he danced with Kendal and with Rouge and with his mother too. And Pyrrha danced with other men; other men asked her to dance, which Pyrrha found incredible until she remembered that, of course, they had no idea that they were not supposed to ask, no clue that she was Pyrrha Nikos, placed upon a pedestal so high above them that even to think of asking was gross presumption. And when Jaune was otherwise engaged, she accepted their offers, although none of them danced so well as Jaune did.

Although she had to admit that Gold Arc danced well; he approached her when Jaune was dancing with his mother and seemed a little embarrassed to ask as though he expected her to refuse, just as he seemed surprised when she accepted. He did not press her close against him, as he had his wife, but he knew his steps well, and his burgeoning waistline belied a lightness on his feet.

The other men of Alba Longa … some of them were enthusiastic, some of them had some skill, but none of them were Jaune, and always to Jaune she returned, time after time.

It was a wonderful night, with a wonderful conclusion. As the night drew to a close, someone set up a camera — not a camera on their scroll but a real camera — upon a tripod, and in front of the camera — everyone who hadn’t gone home yet making space for them — the Arcs gathered for a family photograph of the night.

Pyrrha stood back and watched as Jaune joined the gathering, his parents, his sisters, his brothers-in-law, all trying to sort themselves out or be sorted out by the photographer. She waited, watching from the sidelines, hands clasped together, a fond smile upon her face.

“Hey, Pyrrha!” Kendal yelled. “What are you standing over there for? Get over here!”

Pyrrha gasped. “But … but I … I mean, this is a family photograph.”

“Exactly,” Sky said, “but you’re out of frame.”

It took a moment for Pyrrha to comprehend, to accept, what they were saying, but when she did … when she did, she ran over there with unseemly haste, almost forgetting to lift up the hem of her gown so she did not trip over it as she dashed to join the others.

“It’s a pity not to capture that gorgeous dress,” Rouge said. “But you’re almost as tall as Jaune, so you’ll have to stand at the back.”

“Maybe you can get a picture of just the two of you afterwards,” River suggested. “One you can keep for yourselves.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pyrrha said. “But right now, I’m happy to stand wherever you want me.”

Because she would be standing in the frame, she would be captured in the photograph.

As Pyrrha took her place next to Jaune in the back row, her face and head visible over the smaller Arcs, even if none of the rest of her was, the smile on her face could not have been any brighter.

Because she was part of his family.

Author's Note

Both of these pictures were done by the incredibly talented Tiffany Marsou, who not only illustrated but also designed Pyrrha's dress.

This is the last chapter of the Jaune and Pyrrha arc and it is also the last chapter for three weeks. I found writing the next couple of chapters very hard and so I need the break to build the backlog back up. The next chapter will be posted Monday August 29th

The Tale of Summer Rose (New)

The Tale of Summer Rose

There was a chair in front of Professor Ozpin’s desk again. Ruby wondered if he kept it in a cupboard somewhere and brought it out when he wanted people to take their time.

Except she couldn’t see a cupboard. He must bring it up from somewhere. She wondered if anyone ever saw the headmaster carrying the chair to the elevator?

“Please sit down, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said from his own seat on the other side of his glass desk. He gestured at the empty chair before him.

“Right,” Ruby squeaked. “Thank you, Professor,” she added, moving quickly across the office, the shadows cast by the gears above falling temporarily upon her face and on the red cloak that trailed after her, before she took the seat that had been offered to her. As she sat down, she added, “I mean that; thank you.”

Professor Ozpin’s smile was sad; it didn’t reach his eyes except to strain them, or so it seemed to her. “You owe me no thanks, Miss Rose,” he murmured. “No thanks at all.”

“That’s not true,” Ruby insisted. “What you’re about to tell me … no one will tell me, not Dad, not Uncle Qrow—”

“Your father and uncle—”

“Don’t say they’re trying to protect me,” Ruby asked. “Please, don’t say that. I … I don’t want to be protected, Professor. I want to know the truth.”

“The truth can be a bitter draught, Miss Rose, as often as it can be a sweet treat,” Professor Ozpin remarked. “Speaking of which, would you care for a cup of hot cocoa?”

He gestured at the pot sitting on his desk; along with a pair of Beacon mugs, it was the only thing upon the transparent tabletop.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “Okay, thank you, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin smiled at her and got to his feet, back stooped a little, to pick up the white china pot and pour the steaming hot, thickly-textured liquid into the two mugs. He picked up one cup, the axes of Beacon worked in black facing Ruby as he offered it to her.

Ruby took the cup, feeling the heat of the drink within even through the china. She raised it to her lips, blew on it, and took the slightest sip from within. It was hot, but not as tongue-burningly so as she had feared. Reflexively, Ruby wiped the droplets dribbling down the side of the cup away with one thumb. Her brow furrowed slightly as she swallowed; the hot chocolate had a very milky consistency, and it tasted not just of chocolate, but off… “Is this mint flavour?”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Nobody ever said I just had to drink ordinary hot cocoa,” he told her. “Although I must confess that some of the more … interesting flavours offered by the manufacturer leave me scratching my head. I’m sure that someone, somewhere, enjoys Banoffee Pie flavoured hot chocolate, or even Pina Colada, but I’m not sure I can imagine who that might be.”

Ruby’s silver eyes narrowed. “Is that a real thing, Professor?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “I must admit, it does make the fact that they’ve cancelled my favourite flavour a little irksome. On the other hand, this mint flavour is one I wish I’d tried sooner.”

Ruby took another sip, longer this time, “It is really good,” she agreed.

“I think so,” Professor Ozpin said. “I shall have to order some more of it.” He paused for a moment. “If it seems to you as though I’m stalling, Miss Rose, that is … in part because I am. I promised you that we would talk of your mother once your mission to Mountain Glenn was concluded, and then … I apologise that it has taken this long.”

“It’s okay, Professor,” Ruby assured him. “I know that you’ve been busy. I know that things have been pretty hectic around here since the Breach, and with the Vytal Festival … I know you’ve got a lot to do.” Now it was her turn to hesitate. “I … I feel as though I should apologise.”

Ozpin frowned. “Apologise for what, Miss Rose?”

“For letting things get this way,” Ruby said. “For letting the Breach happen. We screwed up, didn’t we?”

Ozpin drank from his mug of hot chocolate, letting the act extend the silence outwards. He put down the mug with a chink upon the glass. “Do you think so, Miss Rose?” he asked. “Do you really believe it so?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Ruby asked. “I mean, we were sent—”

“To gather information,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “To report back on what you found. You did that, relaying intelligence to Miss Sparkle who, in turn, passed it on to me, to General Ironwood, to the Council. You completed your mission—”

“We’re not Atlesian soldiers, sir; we don’t have missions,” Ruby declared. “Well, okay, technically, we do, but the point is that we don’t get to walk up to the line of what was originally asked of us, not take another step further, and then go home and call it 'job done' without worrying about the consequences or about what happened after or anything else. We’re huntsmen; it’s our job to go beyond, to protect the people, whatever it takes. We may have completed our mission, but we didn’t complete the mission. We didn’t protect the people.”

Professor Ozpin picked up his cup, but did not drink from it. He simply held it in his hands, a little steam rising in front of his face. “You saw Mister Arc and Miss Nikos off on a northbound train this morning, did you not?”

Ruby didn’t see the relevance of that, but she nodded. “They’re going to visit Jaune’s family for a couple of days.”

“And when you walked them down to the train station, I’m sure you must have seen plenty of people out on the streets,” Professor Ozpin pointed out.

“You know what I meant, Professor,” Ruby admonished. “We didn’t save everyone.”

“And yet, the city was saved,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Vale endures, and in a little while, we shall host the Vytal Festival, not only a celebration of unity and peace, but also a celebration of endurance, even in the face of those who would do us harm, their malice, and their wicked designs.”

“So I should just accept that people died?” Ruby demanded. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Now Professor Ozpin drank from his hot chocolate. “It is true that victory is sweetest when it brings home full numbers,” he admitted. “But there are many things worse than a victory such as was won at the Breach. A defeat, for one thing. I … I understand your feelings, Miss Rose, but … take it from me that one must appreciate victory when one attains it. If you only ever dwell upon what went imperfectly, upon what you did wrong, if every error becomes magnified into failure and defeat, then you will soon start to feel as though all your efforts are for nought, and before too long, you will simply cease to try, every effort having become pointless in your eyes.”

“But if we don’t feel the sting of our failures, how will we be driven to do better next time?” Ruby asked.

“There is a difference between acknowledged mistakes and blindly castigating yourself for not measuring up to an ideal which may not even be attainable,” Professor Ozpin told her. “Miss Rose, what is it that you think that you, specifically, should have done differently?”

Ruby blinked. “I … um, I should have, I meant that I—”

“When you have the answer to that question, Miss Rose, then you have my permission to blame yourself for not acting differently, although only in the manner that you have decided you ought to have acted. Although even then, I would encourage you to remember that, in the field, you do not have the luxury of the introspective thought that you may give to the question once you leave here. Until then, I suggest that you allow yourself to feel triumphant, if only a little. Victories must be celebrated, if only to keep one's spirits up through the times when there are no victories to celebrate.”

“I … I understand,” Ruby said. “I think I do, anyway.”

“Think on it, Miss Rose, I beg of you,” Professor Ozpin urged. “Think on it, and I believe you will find my logic to be convincing.”

Ruby drank a little more of her hot chocolate. The cup was about half empty now. “Are you still stalling, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “I am still your headmaster, Miss Rose; you must allow me to show a little care and concern for you.” He stood up, back bent once more, and refilled his cup of hot cocoa from the pot. “Would you care for any more?” he asked.

“Not right now, Professor,” Ruby said softly.

“Very well,” Professor Ozpin said softly, and he sat back down once again.

There was a moment of silence in the office, broken only by the grinding of the gears above their heads.

Professor Ozpin clasped his hands together. “Where would you like me to begin, Miss Rose?” he asked.

Ruby blinked. “You’re asking me?”

“Our time together is for your benefit,” Professor Ozpin said. “In every sense.”

“But…” Ruby hesitated for a moment. “How am I supposed to know where to start when I don’t know anything? I don’t…” She trailed off, thinking about her mother’s diary. “You … you helped my mom get into Beacon, didn’t you? She said that she wouldn’t have been able to come to this school without you; it’s in her entry about the first day.”

“That is correct,” Professor Ozpin agreed.

“How?” Ruby asked. “Why? Start there, start at the beginning; how did you know my mom?”

“I met Summer Rose by happy chance,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “One of those fortunate coincidences which almost makes one believe in a benevolent providence, or else in the webs of fate guiding our pathways and our actions towards certain predetermined ends. Your mother came from outside the kingdoms — she could not place precisely where upon a map — I … I do not believe that she had had much of a formal education growing up. She could write well, read decently enough, and her knowledge of plants and herbs was exceptional, but while she had an intuitive grasp of the uses of dust, her knowledge of the science behind it was practically nonexistent, and her geography … as she told me once, ‘I know the territory, Professor, I just can’t make sense of the map.’” He chuckled. “What she could tell me was that she came from over the mountains.”

“'Over the mountains'?” Ruby repeated. “But that … there are people living there?”

“There were people living there before either Vale or Mistral sought to colonise the land, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Just as there are people living there now, long after the ambitions of both kingdoms have turned to dust. Your mother was one of those.”

“Then,” Ruby murmured. “Then why did she come to Beacon? How did she even know about Beacon?”

“Although there is little movement from Vale into the east of Sanus these days, a few hardy merchants and traders brave the mountain passes to head into the wilds, trading Valish trinkets for furs, the timbers of trees taller than any that grow on this side of the mountains these days, or simply for curiosities of a very different world from this one. I tacitly encourage such ventures, discreetly, of course; I use some of the school funds to make such expeditions worthwhile.”

“Why?” Ruby asked.

“To spread word of Beacon,” Professor Ozpin explained. “In the hopes of attracting people like your mother to this school.”

“Silver-Eyed Warriors?”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “No, Miss Rose, I never dreamed that I would be so fortunate. In truth, until I met Summer Rose, I did not think that there were any with silver eyes yet living in the world. I suppose that in the wilds, far beyond even what most people think of when they say ‘beyond the kingdoms’ is the only place they could survive. Salem’s agents have hunted them down one by one.”

“Is that…?” Ruby hesitated. “Is that what happened to Mom? Was she hunted down because of her eyes?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I … Summer’s fate is a little difficult to piece together,” he confessed. “The only reason that we can say for sure that she is dead is … because she never would have abandoned her children without word.”

Ruby looked down. She blinked rapidly. She could feel her eyes growing wet; she could feel the phlegm starting to build up in her throat. She hastily downed most of the rest of her hot cocoa in order to cleanse her throat, and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. “I … I wouldn’t mind some more chocolate, Professor.”

“Of course,” Professor Ozpin said, a comforting smile upon his face.

Ruby set the cup down upon the desk, and the headmaster rose to refill it for her. The liquid did not steam so much as when it was poured into the pot, but Ruby hoped that it would still taste as good.

It did, as she took her first gulp; the minty flavour lingered in her mouth after all the cocoa had been swallowed.

“Do you want to hear the beginning of the story?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Or the ending?”

Ruby thought for a moment. “The beginning,” she said. “It sounds … happier.”

“The story ends with you, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin reminded her. “I am sure that Summer would consider that the happiest ending imaginable. But as you wish, I will give you the beginning. As I say, I encourage a small number of travellers to venture over the mountains in the hope that by spreading Beacon’s legend, I will draw, not Silver-Eyed Warriors perhaps, but young warriors all the same. It is hard to get a complete picture of life beyond the mountains, but from the students who have come from there, I get the sense that it is a land in which one must be hardy to survive, if not in person then as a people. Vigour and strength will always be welcome at Beacon, and even if not every student who arrives at this school comes for the right reasons … to teach those right reasons is, in many respects, what this school is for.”

He paused for a moment. “Summer Rose was already an accomplished warrior when she arrived here, as you will know from her diary,” he went on. “As you will know, there was some dispute with her father over her coming here, what she would learn. As you will know, she was already aware of how to use her silver eyes, at least to some extent.”

“But she wanted more than that,” Ruby murmured. “She wanted … she wanted to live, like Pyrrha wanted. She wanted to be more than just a Silver-Eyed Warrior; she wanted to be a person too.”

“She wanted the Valish life, as she called it,” Professor Ozpin said. “Although her first taste of Vale was … well, you asked me how we met, and in a roundabout fashion, we have arrived there at last. Summer Rose made her way over the mountains with a trader who had crossed the other way, but on their return to Vale, she was left alone, to make her own way in a city the like of which she had never seen before, filled with sights that must have seemed like the stuff of dreams to her, a city where she knew no one and did not even have any money that would be accepted by anyone.

“And then, seeing this wide-eyed girl all alone with no idea of where to go or what to do, three men tried to mug her,” Professor Ozpin muttered. “A fine welcome to the big city.”

“What happened to her?” Ruby asked. “Was she okay? I mean, of course she was okay, but was she—?”

“She killed them all,” Professor Ozpin said. “As I said, they are a hardy folk, and the fact that these were not foes that she could vanquish with her silver eyes did not make Summer helpless.”

Ruby was silent for a little while. She had never … she had never thought about her mother killing people before. She had just never thought about it. Obviously, there were times when you had to kill — Jaune had killed someone, and so had Sunset, and it didn’t make either of them bad people — but she’d never thought about it. In her mind, there was no blood staining that white cloak.

And the fact that she had killed … yeah, they were criminals, but it wasn’t as though they were trying to destroy the world or cause mass murder. They were criminals, but to kill them?

“I didn’t tell you that so that you could judge your mother,” Professor Ozpin said, demonstrating an uncanny ability to tell what Ruby was thinking. “She was attacked, and she reacted upon instinct. Those instincts happened to be lethal ones. Her would-be assailants were not the first to underestimate Summer Rose, to their peril.”

Ruby nodded slightly. “What happened after that?”

“Your mother was arrested,” Professor Ozpin declared. “She submitted peacefully to the police, who believed, based on her fighting prowess, that she might be a huntress who had lost her identification. I was summoned to see if I knew her. Instead … when she discovered that I was the headmaster of Beacon, she told me that she had come all the way across the mountains to come to my school. She was obviously a capable combatant. And she had silver eyes; I will not try to deny that that entered my thinking. Silver eyes, the first time I set eyes upon such in … too long.”

“And so you arranged for her to come to Beacon,” Ruby said. “Just like … just like me.”

“I suppose there are some similarities,” Professor Ozpin acknowledged. “Although you were never in trouble with the law in quite the same way, Miss Rose. But yes, since Summer Rose wanted to attend my school, and since I want people — especially skilled people like Summer Rose — to attend my school, the solution was rather obvious. I had her little brush with the law swept under the carpet, certified her as competent to combat-school equivalence, and ensured that she had a place to stay in Vale until the beginning of the year, which was, fortunately, not far off. And that, I believe, is where her diary picks up the story.”

“Yes, Professor, her first entry is arriving at Beacon,” Ruby said. “She met Dad on her first day, talked to you … do you know why she decided to start keeping a diary then?”

“Because she had something worth recording?” Professor Ozpin suggested. “Summer was a gifted student, and I took more of a hand in her education than I do for others, but the difference in age and position between the two of us meant that we were never friends. She did not confide the secrets of her innermost heart to me. Perhaps that, initially, is why she kept the journal: so that, in this strange place full of strange people, she had somebody in whom she could confide.”

He paused for a moment. “As you know, your mother passed Initiation, even if she did have to be helped back to Beacon by the teammates she had made upon the way: your father, your uncle Qrow, and … Raven Branwen.”

“And you made her team leader,” Ruby murmured.

Professor Ozpin smiled. “Are you jealous, Miss Rose?”

“No,” Ruby said, and drank some of her hot chocolate.

“No, I believe that,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “As I believe I may have phrased that rather badly. Do you wonder why I did not make you the leader of your team?”

“I’m not saying anything against Sunset,” Ruby insisted. “But I guess … I do wonder … what is it that Mom had that I don’t?”

“You are assuming that that is the appropriate question, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied, his voice soft and gentle, like the tide lapping upon the beach. “And that is quite a large assumption to make.”

Ruby frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You are assuming,” Professor Ozpin explained, “that I made the right choice in making Summer Rose leader of Team Stark, and so you ask what qualities she possessed that are missing in you. You are also leaving out the possibility that you have all of your mother’s excellent qualities and would have made a fine leader in Miss Shimmer’s absence, but more than that … more than that, you are also assuming that I stand by the decision to make your mother the leader of her team.”

Ruby frowned. “You … you don’t?”

“Unfortunately, Miss Rose, I have made a great many mistakes in my life,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “And there are times when I fear that making Summer Rose the leader of her Team Stark was one of them.”

“But…” Ruby muttered. “Then what—?”

“The proper question is ‘who,’ Miss Rose,” Ozpin said.

Ruby thought for a moment. Her Dad? Uncle Qrow? No, there was only one alternative, one person who stood out in Mom’s diary, one person who would have been more than willing to step up and lead in her mother’s absence — or even in her presence, often enough. “Raven.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Do you know how I select team leaders, Miss Rose?”

“Do you … study our records?” Ruby asked.

“I bear it in mind,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “But to be honest, I base most of my judgement upon what I observe in the Initiation itself.”

“You can see that?”

“There are cameras set up throughout the Emerald Forest,” Professor Ozpin explained. “They serve as part of the security system, but they also allow for field exercises in the forest to be observed and graded; there would be little purpose in sending the students down into the woods if neither I nor your teachers had any way of knowing what you did when you were there.”

“That … that makes a lot of sense,” Ruby said softly.

“And so I observe the conduct of the students during Initiation,” Professor Ozpin continued. “I see who takes the lead and how they lead and what the results are of their leadership. I chose Miss Belladonna to lead Team Bluebell over Miss Bonaventure — initially, of course — because although Miss Bonaventure was the more … strident … of the two when their team assembled, it was Miss Belladonna’s directions that enabled them to overcome a King Taijitu they encountered on the way to the ruins. I chose your mother to lead because, when she and Raven encountered one another in the forest, it was Summer Rose who took the lead, and with enthusiasm I might add, while Raven appeared … almost disinterested. But … when your mother was exhausted from the use of her silver eyes, it was Raven who commanded your father to carry her back, and it was Raven who led them safely back to the school.”

“And you think she would have been a better leader because of that?” Ruby asked.

“No,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I think that … sometimes, I think I choose too early when it comes to picking leaders.” He paused. “Summer had many excellent, wonderful qualities, Ruby, I would never wish you to think otherwise: she was brave, clever — although more in an intuitive than an academic sense — lively, engaging. She drew people to her like … like flowers towards the sun. Raven, on the other hand … frequently quiet, irascible when she was not quiet, by turns hostile and disinterested towards leadership, and particularly Summer’s leadership … I can say in my defence that there were good reasons why I chose as I did. And yet…”

“Professor?”

“Why do you think, Miss Rose, that I never sought to train you in your silver eyes, as I helped your mother?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I … I don’t know,” Ruby admitted.

“Summer … Summer had a great deal on her plate, in those early days at Beacon,” Professor Ozpin said. “Classes in the day, including leadership classes, then lessons at night with me here in my office … and on top of all that, she had a great deal of catching up to do; there was so much that she didn’t know, that she had not learned living outside the kingdoms. I should have considered that, but your mother never brought it up. Summer was … determined to succeed. She was determined to meet all expectations placed upon her; indeed, she sought to exceed them. It was Raven who came to see me one night, who brusquely informed me that I was pushing Summer too hard and that I needed to leave her alone.”

“Really?” Ruby asked. “She said that?”

“I recall her exact words were ‘Give her a break, Professor, or you’ll answer to me.’” Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Neither of them were ever awed by me, which is more than I can say for most people, even your father and uncle. I always found it rather charming. All of which is a somewhat long way of saying that the reason I didn’t begin your training the way that I began your mother’s … I thought that you would probably be busy enough, and I didn’t want an angry visit from Miss Shimmer.”

Ruby snorted. She drank a little more of her hot chocolate, although it was really one lukewarm chocolate by this point. She drank a lot more of it, before it got even colder. “So … but why do you think Raven would have been a better leader than my mom?”

“Summer was … not a bad leader, by any means,” Professor Ozpin said. “As I said, she had many virtues, and I admired her for them and appreciated all of them. But Raven … though she could be ferocious in battle and utterly without mercy, and though, indeed, she enjoyed being respected for her skill as a combatant … she never loved the song of swords, as Summer did. She did not thrill to battle; rather, she hazarded her life only when she considered it necessary to do so. Or when Summer led the way. It was Summer Rose who led Team Stark into the fighting at the battle they now call Ozpin’s Stand, but when Summer was temporarily exhausted by the use of her eyes, it was Raven who stood over her, defending Summer from the grimm, though her own aura broke, and she was left scarred and tattered by the battle’s end. It was Summer Rose who led Team Stark in a strike against Salem herself—”

“Struck at Salem?” Ruby cried. “But Sunset said—”

“But when the strike failed,” Professor Ozpin went on, answering the obvious question, “it was Raven Branwen who led them out again. I chose Summer Rose to lead her team into battle, but there are times when I wonder if I should not have chosen Raven Branwen to keep them safe instead.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “And so you made Sunset the leader instead of me because … because I’m too much like mom?”

“Summer Rose was a force of nature on the battlefield, and not merely because of her eyes,” Professor Ozpin said. “I see a great deal of her in you, Miss Rose, but I hope you can forgive me for wanting to try … a different approach this time around.”

Ruby finished her cup of cocoa and put the mug down with a clink upon the glass table.

“What kind of weapon did she use?” she asked. “My mom, I mean, besides her silver eyes?”

“An axe,” Professor Ozpin said. “I believe it was a family heirloom of sorts, although I’m not sure that she was supposed to have taken it with her. She called it Vargcrist.”

“Vargcrist?”

“In the tongue, or at least a tongue, of the folk who dwell beyond the mountains, it means Wolf-Cleaver,” Professor Ozpin explained.

“Ooh, cool,” Ruby whispered. “What kind of an axe? Two heads or one?”

“I recall that it was double-headed.”

“How big was it?”

“Almost as tall as she was, and Summer was taller than you, Miss Rose, I must say,” Professor Ozpin replied amusedly.

Ruby smiled. “Did it turn into a gun?”

“Alas, no,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “Remember, Summer came from over the mountains, where technology was much less sophisticated. Vargcrist was only an axe, but it was an exceedingly good axe, and Summer was very attached to it.”

Ruby nodded eagerly. “Where is it now?”

“I don’t know,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “No one does, to my knowledge. It disappeared along with Summer herself. She took it with her on her last mission, and … as you know, she was never seen again. I fear the same fell beast that took her life devoured her weapon.” He paused. “Would you have used it, had the choice been yours?”

“No,” Ruby said at once. “No, I love my Crescent Rose too much. Although, maybe if the choice had been there when I was younger … it doesn’t really matter, does it?” She waited a moment to add. “Yang once told me that Mom fought with a sword.”

“No doubt, that seemed more quintessentially heroic to her,” Professor Ozpin suggested.

“Yeah,” Ruby said softly. “Yeah, I’m sure that was it.” She thought, wondering what other questions she could ask Professor Ozpin. “Why … why did you pick them? You were testing them, weren’t you? With the extra missions, like the time they had to escort Auburn to that village, you were seeing if you could tell them the truth, if you could recruit them the same way that you recruited us. Raven … Raven warned me about that.”

“I am engaged in a great war, a war that is no less great for being waged largely in secret. And in a war, I must have soldiers. I never have vast armies at my command; at present, I have very few who know the truth and whom I can call upon in an emergency, but … I do not wish to sound as though the primary purpose of this school is to serve as a recruiting ground for the struggle against Salem — if that were the case, I would have more than Team Sapphire and your uncle Qrow at my disposal — but I would be remiss in my duties to the wider world not to keep a lookout for those exceptional students who might be willing and, more importantly, able to assist me in defending it in some fashion beyond the duties of ordinary huntsmen.”

“But you haven’t found very many,” Ruby pointed out. “Or, like you said, you’d have more.”

“It is a great deal to ask,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I … I would hate to make a precipitous approach and then regret it later.”

“Did you regret Team Stark?”

“No,” Professor Ozpin said immediately. “I have many regrets, but that is not one of them. I had my eye on them from the moment they formed a team, even before. Your mother, silver-eyed, so skilled, so charismatic; Qrow and Raven, two of the best students that Beacon had ever seen, the best until Miss Nikos, and even then, I would not like to wager against either of them. Your father … well, Taiyang will forgive me for saying that he was not quite so exceptional, but he was brave and far from lacking in ability. And so I tested their skill, their commitment, I teased the edges of certain … mysteries to them, to see how they would react. I had Auburn, an old friend of mine, spend some time with them to give me her frank assessment of their characters, individually and as a group. I … I needed to be sure. I … test many teams that way; if you speak to the upperclassmen, I’m sure that they will tell you that in each year, there is one particular team that appears to enjoy my favour for a while … only to lose it, quite abruptly.”

“When you decide that they’re not ready,” Ruby said.

Professor Ozpin nodded. “I fear they take it as a slight,” he said. “Although some might say that I am doing them a favour.”

“But you decided that Team Stark was ready.”

“I did,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “After Ozpin’s stand … that was a terrible battle. In my life, I have never known a more terrible battle. Mountain Glenn, the pride of Vale, the supposed beginning of a new wave of colonisation, had been overrun by grimm with much bloodshed. Vale was in a panic, a much greater panic than that caused by the Breach, and that panic drew the grimm onwards, out of the ruins of Mountain Glenn. The Council … I must say that the Council of that day trusted me a lot more than the present administration; they gave me a free hand to organise the defence of the city, and I chose to fight the grimm away from Vale itself, though it meant offering battle upon the open ground. I led out every huntsman who would answer the call, and many students as well, although it was my intent to hold them in reserve, to use only in direst need.

“Summer Rose was unwilling to wait in reserve, and she convinced the others to move forward. I don’t know how she had convinced them, but Summer always had a ready tongue, and she knew the words that would conjure courage in the hearts of others. She even persuaded other teams, Team Cello and Team Diamond, to come with her, although in the confusion that prevailed, the closer they came to the fighting, the three teams became separated; Team Diamond turned back, and Team Cello ended up having their own little adventure. Team Stark, at Summer’s urging and Taiyang’s encouragement, pressed on alone, and soon found themselves, if not where the fighting was thickest, then certainly where it was very thick indeed. It was not a position I would ever have intentionally put students in, certainly not students of their year, and yet, they held their own, and what was more, they held the line. I had no idea of what had happened to them until the battle was over — I was preoccupied by trying to find and slay the apex alpha who led the horde — but when the battle was done, I was … astonished, awed, amazed by what these children managed to do. I understood then, in ways I had not before, just what I had in these four extraordinary students. I understood that they were ready and that I had no need to delay any longer. And so, when Raven’s injuries were mended, I summoned them to my office and unfolded the truth to them.”

“How did they take it?” Ruby asked. “How did Mom take it?”

“Barely had the words left my mouth then she declared that she was in,” Professor Ozpin said. “‘So long as you need help, Professor, I’m your girl.’ Those were her very words. ‘Call on me for any need that you may have, for any aid you may require, for any duty that arises, for any battle that must be fought. Call on me, and I will be there.’ She was … she was a very brave young woman. Very brave indeed. It took her a little longer to convince … some of the others, but she was able to bring them all onboard, with varying levels of enthusiasm. Ultimately, even those who had misgivings about the battle itself … they followed where she led. They would have followed her anywhere. They did follow her anywhere, even into Salem’s own fortress.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “I mean, why did they go there? You said to Sunset and Pyrrha—”

“I did not lie to Miss Shimmer, or Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “Salem cannot be destroyed; I am more sure than ever of that now.”

“Then why?”

“Because I thought that it might be possible to trap her,” Professor Ozpin said. “I knew that Salem had sent her agents to systematically hunt down all Silver-Eyed Warriors, I knew — as you know — that silver eyes have the power to petrify grimm, not destroy them. I thought that there might be a connection there, that Salem might fear what silver eyes could do to her, that perhaps she could be petrified as a grimm could be. I thought that there might be a chance to end this war, and Summer — and Team Stark — agreed with me that it was a chance worth taking.

“General Ironwood was at that time a major commanding a cruiser; he had enjoyed a meteoric rise to reach that position at his age, and I had already taken him into my confidence; he agreed to risk his career — and more importantly, his ship — to carry Team Stark as close to Salem’s fortress as he dared, so that they did not have far to fly in a Bullhead, and to wait for them to return. So they set out, full of high hopes, hopes which I shared as I waited here in this tower, waiting … waiting for word. Waiting for word that they had been successful, that the shadow had lifted, that a new day had dawned.”

“But it didn’t,” Ruby whispered. “Salem … in Mountain Glenn, under Mountain Glenn … Salem spoke to us.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Miss Shimmer has already confessed as much to me.”

“Really?” Ruby asked. She would have thought it was the kind of thing that Sunset would have kept to herself.

“Miss Shimmer and I are enjoying something of a détente,” Professor Ozpin explained. “But please, you were saying?”

“Right,” Ruby said. “Salem … Salem, she said to me … I tried to defy her… I told her that we wouldn’t give up, that we wouldn’t give in, and she told me that … that Mom had said the same thing to her once.”

“She was very brave, but ultimately quite mistaken.”

Ruby shuddered at the memory. Her whole body trembled as she looked away, looked down at her hands on her lap, screwed her silver eyes tight shut, tried to put away the thought that she conjured from the depths.

She could feel Salem’s voice in her head, she could hear it as if the words were newly spoken, she could remember the cold of Mountain Glenn all around her; surely, if she opened her eyes, she would see the darkness.

She could feel … she could feel … she could feel the hopelessness that she had felt then, the despair, the … the…

Ruby’s breathing began to come swifter and more heavily. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes—

“Ruby,” Professor Ozpin’s voice was like the ocean, washing away all that had been written on the beach before the tide came in, washing away the fear, washing away the despair, washing it all out to sea, never to be seen or heard from again. “Ruby, it’s alright. She is not here. You are in Beacon and amongst friends. I am here, and Miss Shimmer is waiting for you at the bottom of the elevator. Please, Ruby, come back.”

Ruby opened her eyes, blinking, wiping the tears that had begun to form with the back one hand. “I … sorry, Professor, I don’t—”

“Salem has a malign influence, one that can linger far beyond her presence,” Professor Ozpin said. “Quite understandable and nothing to be ashamed of. As for your mother … I did not ask for details of what had happened on their mission; suffice to say that Summer’s eyes did not work as she or I had hoped, and Team Stark was lucky to escape alive.” He fell silent for a little while. “And now, if you’ll forgive me, Miss Rose, I think that that is enough for one day.”

“But—”

“That is enough, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said firmly. “We will speak again, I give you my word, but another time, another day.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, in a half grumbling tone as she got to her feet. “Thank you, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin bowed his head. “It was an honour to speak of your mother again, Miss Rose.”

My Fair Emerald (New)

My Fair Emerald

Cinder prowled up and down in the library of Portchester Manor.

It was something that she had taken to doing a lot of: prowling. She had become a champion prowler these past nights. If you wanted a great prowler, then look no further than Cinder Fall.

It was not something she was proud of.

She was aware that it was bad form, bad leadership; she shouldn't be showing her impatience in front of Emerald or Lightning, certainly not in front of Sonata Dusk. She ought to have been still and calm, and affected to have no problems at all and thereby convince them that everything was going according to plan.

Still and calm were becoming harder for her. She feared that, in time, those concepts would become as foreign to her as sleep. There was a hunger in her that would not let her rest. It desired action, movement, purpose. It was not content to sit still, to wait, to watch. And it was becoming harder to control.

And so Cinder prowled the library, pacing up and down, roaming the bookshelves, growling and scowling and making it incredibly clear to any and all observers that things were not going as she wished.

They were not going at all. Cinder could not be still and patient, but it seemed that Tempest Shadow, Doctor Watts' superior agent, could be. She was so still and so patient that she had not yet found her way to Portchester Manor to chaperone Sonata into Vale. The siren was stuck in this house because there was no one to hold her leash and get her past the Red Line.

Cinder could not sit still, no longer could she stand idly by, and yet, all her plans were now sitting idly by on her behalf, on hold, put on pause, in limbo while she was forced to wait for this Tempest Shadow to deign to show herself.

It was intolerable. It was unbearable.

It was unavoidable, and it was driving her into a fury.

Who was Tempest Shadow to behave thus? To tarry thus? To treat Cinder thus? Did she not suspect Cinder's place? Did she not suspect the importance Salem attached to the successful completion of this mission? Had Doctor Watts not made it clear to her of what great import her new duties were and how much hung upon them?

Of course he had: that was almost certainly why he had advised Tempest Shadow to dawdle about getting to work. If he did not want Cinder to fail, then he certainly wanted her … well, he wanted her to be this angry, to feel the mounting impatience that grew greater every day she looked out of the window and saw no sign of Tempest Shadow.

He had put Tempest up to this that he might rile her by proxy, and done so moreover smug in the knowledge that she could not touch him or his protege.

Because, after all, she was out of other options. No matter how much Tempest might infuriate Cinder by her tardiness there was nothing that Cinder could do because she needed Tempest.

And so she was left to prowl, to pace, to growl inwardly and scowl outwardly and fret and wait with ever mounting impatience and how long would he try her patience so?

One word from her to Salem would be the end of the matter. Cinder knew that she had only to tell Salem that Doctor Watts was obstructing the mission, and Tempest Shadow would be at her door first thing the next morning, and Doctor Watts would carry a reminder not to put his pleasures before Salem's purpose ever again.

But if Cinder did that, she would have lost the battle of wills that was going on between them. She would have lost because she had proved unable to handle things herself but had to cry to mommy about it.

And so she waited, much though it chafed at her to do so.

It did not help matters that she was otherwise bored stiff.

If she had possessed something, anything else to focus on, then things would have been different. She would have been able to focus on that and leave Sonata for the moment.

But she did not. All her plans now hinged upon Sonata, and without her, they were all left standing at the start line, waiting for the race to begin.

It was getting to the point where Cinder was considering picking a fight with Ironwood's Atlesian specialists just to give herself something to do.

Plus, it would allow her to avenge her earlier defeat at their hands.

Plus, it would give her someone on whom to visit the rage she could not take out on Tempest Shadow.

Plus, it might be fun.

There were many advantages to it for a bored mind and a restless spirit.

It was a terrible idea, in many respects, and yet, Cinder had found that her mind, starved of stimulation, had planned out already how she would do it: she would remove herself from this house and choose a place of battle of her own choosing where Sonata would not be put at risk; then she would call Pyrrha and tip her off as to Cinder’s new location, with an implication that she was looking for a rematch with Mistral’s champion. Pyrrha, being a good girl, would alert the proper authorities to this — and even if she was tempted to accept Cinder’s challenge herself, Cinder was fairly confident that Sunset and Jaune would talk her out of it — and General Ironwood’s men would descend upon her from out of the skies.

And quite possibly best her, just as they had before.

The fact that Cinder was aware that it was a bad idea and yet was so bored she could not stop it growing in her mind was indicative of her situation.

She needed to find something to occupy herself, something with less attendant risk than battle against those who had already beaten her once — she would be revenged, have no doubt, but only once her plans were moving forward in other directions.

She needed something to do.

There was a knock at the open library door.

Cinder whirled around to face the doorway and saw Emerald standing there, head bowed.

"Well?" Cinder demanded.

"No sign of anyone," Emerald murmured, still not looking up.

Cinder fought back the urge to scream and throw things. She kept her voice soft and as sharp as one of her obsidian blades. "I see. Very well." She turned away from Emerald. "You may go."

"Of course," Emerald murmured. "I'm sorry, Cinder."

"Wait!" Cinder called, her voice to forestall Emerald's going because she had it now. She knew what she could do, into what she could pour her energies, with what she could occupy herself and so distract herself that, when Tempest Shadow eventually arrived, she would not find Cinder even slightly vexed.

And it would be … a nice thing. A kindly thing. The kind of thing that, if it were not lordly, was nonetheless kinder than the conduct of some lords.

"Cinder?" Emerald asked.

"Close the door," Cinder commanded her.

"Why?"

"Because this will be for us, not for Lightning Dust or Sonata," Cinder declared. "If they need us, they will have to knock. Shut the door."

This time Emerald obeyed Cinder's command; Cinder heard the door swing shut and close with a click of the latch.

Cinder turned around and gestured to a patch of floor in front of her. "Come here."

Emerald approached, confusion in her red eyes. "Is ... did I do something wrong because whatever it was I—"

"Stop," Cinder said, silencing Emerald with a word. "I did not bid you shut the door to muffle the sounds of your pain. You have done nothing wrong. You have done nought but seek to serve me well and do my bidding as I instructed you. And yet I in my turn have used you poorly."

Cinder paused for a moment. "The fact is, as you possess the manners of a peasant, I have found it easy to use you so and to dismiss you so. I have forgotten that, as I am your mistress, as I am responsible for you, it is my duty not to dismiss you but to uplift your manners to the standards of your betters."

Emerald frowned. "I … can I level with you for a second?"

"If you wish."

"I kind of feel as though I've been insulted, but I don't understand enough of what you just said to say for sure."

Cinder let out a bark of laughter. "My speech will seem less strange to you when we are done," she said. "But put plainly: Emerald Sustrai, I intend to make you a lady."

Emerald blinked. "Can you … can you do that?"

"I should hope so; I taught myself once upon a time," Cinder replied. "Like you, I was denied the opportunities offered to the likes of Pyrrha Nikos. Unlike you, I could read—"

"I can read," Emerald pointed out mildly.

"But did you have access to books growing up?" Cinder asked. "Were you culturally acclimated to understand which were the Great Books, the ones truly worth reading, the ones that would teach you everything you needed to know of how to live?"

"No," Emerald answered softly. "Why are you doing this?"

Cinder had no desire to confess her boredom, and so she answered with a question of her own: "Emerald, what do you think will happen when all this is over?"

"I don't understand," Emerald replied.

"When the battle is done," Cinder clarified. "When my task is complete for which I recruited you, what will you do?"

"I … I thought … I hoped … I want to stay with you, Cinder," Emerald said softly, her lower lip trembling.

"And why would you wish that?" Cinder asked. "I have done nought to earn your love or loyalty."

"Nothing but seek me out and ask my help," Emerald confirmed. "You … I've always been alone. I took what I needed to survive because no one ever gave me anything. You are the first person in the whole world to tell me that you needed me, so please, please, Cinder, let me stay by your side; even when this mission is completed, there will be other—"

"'Other battles'?" Cinder asked, cutting her off.

She felt … she felt as though Emerald had stolen Midnight and stabbed her through the gut with it. Truly, was there anything more pitiable and unfortunate than misplaced devotion? Cinder might have been forced to labour at her stepmother's command, but she had never been under the illusion that she was valued for her labour.

"Yes," she went on, "there will be other battles; there will be wars to come; after the Emerald Tower shall fall … the others, in what order my mistress shall decree."

It irked her somewhat that she was not privy enough to Salem's plans to name the next target, but that was something to brood on later.

"But to what end shall you stay with me?" Cinder asked. "What shall befall you if you stay by my side? Battles and wars and ranged against us such diverse several powers, any one of which, alone, might cause a gallant heart to tremble: Ironwood, Theodore, the noble lady Terri-Belle and all the blades of Mistral yet beside, hot-foot for vengeance for their princess slain. Four kingdoms and the power of Atlas stand opposed to us, and what are we to challenge them? Cunning and craft, hot tempers, knees that will not bend to do submission, are these such things to conquer realms and shatter armies? Perhaps," she allowed, turning away from Emerald for a moment. "Or perhaps not. But make no mistake, Emerald, I am the underdog, and if you fight with me too long … either you shall die, or I shall, and what then?"

She walked to the window, where sunlight streamed into the library, illuminating the dusty, leather-bound volumes where they sat upon the shelves, making the faded gold lettering gleam a little.

Cinder leaned upon the windowsill. "If you should die … well, then you will be dead, to speak plain, and dead is … dust. I will have no need of you in a grave, and nor will any other. And if I die—"

"You won't die," Emerald declared. "You're too—"

"Did you not hear me list the powers that are opposed to us?" Cinder demanded, rounding on her. "Do you not recall the champions most skilled and valiant which Ozpin may put on the field against us: vaunted Pyrrha Nikos, beloved Pyrrha Nikos, all the more vexing for being as she is my equal Pyrrha Nikos; and Sunset, who has great power and little honour to restrain it? My death is like as not, and yet … and yet, I fear it not, for ere I die, I'll do such things as will be the dread of kingdoms. Though I perish, they will speak for years and generations yet to come of what I did, and who I killed and ate up what I killed, and frighten little children prompt to bed with chiding them that Cinder Fall shall come to punish them their disobedience.

"But what of you, Emerald? What will you do when I am fallen, since you chose to stay by my side? I will give you means to live so that, when we part, me to my further wars, you may part to more than the thief you were when I found you."

"Live," Emerald murmured. "Live … where?"

Cinder turned to look at her. "I don't know, where you like," she said tartly. "Mistral, Vale—"

"There's still going to be a Vale?"

"I'm not planning to kill everyone!" Cinder declared. "What would be the point of that? Who would be left to tell my story, to remember me with fear and curses, to recall that once I lived and strove and battled against all the world?" She chuckled. "There will be a Vale, and you may live in it, or anywhere else you choose. Save, please, I beg of you, do not choose Vacuo, or all my work will be for nought.

"I will teach you how to move amongst the highest in the land, to speak as they do, move as they do, to blend in amongst them as though you are born to it."

"I still won't have the money that they do," Emerald murmured.

Cinder smiled. "Let me worry about that," she said. "So what say you? Would you like to be my equal?"

Emerald's eyes widened. "Yes!" she yelped, her voice rising. "I'd like that a lot. But…"

Cinder cocked her head to one side like a curious beast. "'But'?"

"Why me?" Emerald asked. "Why only me, and not Lightning Dust?"

"Lightning Dust is a brute beast, fit only to bear burdens and obey commands. She could not comprehend what I am about to teach, even if she had the willingness to do so. Man is born to follow and to adore, and Lightning Dust is a prime example of that, but you … you, I think, have the potential to be an object of worship, not a worshipper. You have it in you to be graceful; you have the wit to assume culture and a cultivated air. You are worth my time. Or do you so desire Lightning's company?"

"Not at all," Emerald said at once.

"Good," Cinder said. "Good." Her eyes fell upon the armband that Emerald wore upon her left arm, three rings of cold grey iron clasped about her dusky skin. "I gave that to you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Emerald said, a smile appearing on her lips. "Yeah, you did."

Cinder nodded. "I'm going to ask you to give it back to me."

"What?" Emerald gasped. "But why?"

"Because I was too glib in the bestowing of it," Cinder answered, "cheapening its worth to you and to myself, giving too little thought to its meaning."

"'Meaning'?" Emerald repeated.

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "Does that not prove the point?" she asked. "I did not even trouble to explain to you what it was that I bestowed. Truly, I have been a poor mistress to you, and for that, I … you have my regret."

That was a more elegant way of saying it, and her opinion on the subject had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she could not bear to say sorry.

"You could explain now," Emerald suggested.

That was fair enough, so Cinder said, "Amongst Mistralians of a certain rank or deference to tradition, an honour band is bestowed upon a young warrior once they have completed their training or otherwise proven themselves worthy to be regarded as a warrior and a peer."

"Bestowed by who?" Emerald asked. She paused for a moment. "I see that … you aren't wearing one."

"No," Cinder replied, in a voice that was almost but not quite a growl. "To answer your question, it can be variously bestowed: a parent, a master, a commander. I never had anyone to bestow one upon me."

"Couldn't you just start wearing one?"

"That is not the point," Cinder declared. "The worth of the thing is not in the possession but in … but in who granted it, and the esteem they demonstrated by the bestowing. The honour in the name is that of the bestower as much or more as they who wear it. It marks a bond, connecting they who gave and they who received. To simply start wearing a band around my arm would be meaningless. But, once we are done. I will give you a more worthy band, and you will choose some words to have engraved within it, and in this way. I shall mark you as my equal."

Emerald's eyes widened. "'Your' … I could never be your equal."

"Not in power, perhaps, but in courtesy and grace and nimbleness of tongue. I see no reason why not," Cinder said. "If your tongue can be but as nimble as your fingers you will sing prettily yet."

"I … if you say so," Emerald said. "So … where do we start?"

Lightning Dust frowned. "She said that? She said that about me?"

Sonata nodded. "I'm afraid so. I heard it myself. She hadn't even closed the door to say it."

Lightning was silent for a few moments. She rested her fists, knuckles down, upon the table. "'A brute beast'?"

Sonata nodded again. "Uh huh. I'm really sorry to have to tell you, but my sisters always used to say it was better to get hard truths than comforting lies. And believe me, they told me a lot of hard truths."

Lightning didn't reply. She didn't reply to anything for a few seconds. "Pretentious bitch," she growled.

"I'm really sorry!"

"Not you!" Lightning snapped, making Sonata cringe at her volume.

"Oh, you mean Cinder," Sonata said. "You know, just between you and me, I don't think she's very nice."

"I knew she didn't like me," Lightning said. "I didn't think she liked anyone, except maybe Sunset Shimmer—"

"Who?"

"One of our enemies."

Sonata tilted her head ninety degrees. "Why is one of our enemies the only person she likes?"

"Hell if I know," Lightning replied. "All I know is, whatever they've got going on between them makes them both weak."

"Does that worry you?" Sonata asked.

Lightning frowned. "A little bit," she said, her voice gruff. "She might be content to die gloriously, but that's not what I signed up for."

"Well, now you've got me a little worried."

"You're the one who told me what Cinder had been saying," Lightning pointed out.

"I was hoping you'd offer me some reassurance!"

Lightning let out a scoffing, snorting sound. "Sorry."

Sonata bowed her head. "I don't want to die," she whimpered.

Lightning felt a strong desire to stick her arm around Sonata's shoulders. She didn't, because she wasn't into all that mushy stuff, but she did say, "You're not going to die. You're going to be fine. Just stick with me; I'll see you right."

Sonata looked up at her. "Really?"

"I didn't get involved with this so I could die gloriously and become some little brat's nightmare," Lightning declared. "I'm here for power, the only thing that matters. The power that lets you do without being done to. Let Cinder and Emerald have their little lah-de-dah lessons, and we'll take care of ourselves."

Sonata leaned forwards. "How?"

"Like I told you, Cinder's weak," Lightning said. "Now, she might think that I'm a moron, but I've worked out what's going on. I've worked out why you've been stuck here all this time."

"You know, I was kind of wondering about that," Sonata admitted. "I thought maybe Cinder was trying to build hype for my big debut."

Lightning shook her head. "That's not it," she said. "You see, Cinder works for someone, I don't know who, but that someone has other people working for them besides Cinder, and that other person has people working for them like we work for Cinder, and Cinder is waiting for one of those people to come and help her out. You know what that means?"

"Everyone is working too hard, and we need a team outing?" Sonata suggested.

"No, no, that's not it," Lightning said.

"Aww," Sonata moaned. "We could have gone bowling."

"We'd be better off going to an escape room and locking Cinder inside," Lightning muttered. "But my point is that we don't have to be stuck working for Cinder; we've got options."

"Oh!" Sonata cooed appreciatively. "You mean we could get ourselves a new manager!"

"Exactly," Lightning said. "And all we have to do is wait for their guy to finally show up."

And so, as more days passed, Cinder threw herself into the education of Emerald Sustrai.

She found that she was quite distracted from the ongoing absence of Tempest Shadow because, much to her surprise, she found that she was enjoying herself.

She had not expected to do so. She had not expected anything but something to while away the tedium while Doctor Watts continued to frustrate her. But no, as it turned out, there was something … Cinder did not entirely know how to describe it. She did not have the word upon the tip of her tongue, although no doubt, she would find one if she searched for long enough.

Emerald was much like herself in some respects; that was not something that Cinder had appreciated before now. They were not alike in temperament, in any way, and that dissimilarity had disguised to Cinder's eyes the ways in which they were the same. Emerald had not been to a noble or even to a bourgeois family; she had not had so far to fall as Cinder had. And yet, she, too, had been reduced to nothing, cast out, forced to survive on her wits and on her strength. She had not Cinder's vaulting ambition, nor her wrath, but, well, if everyone could be Cinder Fall, then to be Cinder Fall would be nothing extraordinary, and that would never do.

The fact was that they were as alike as they were different, and for Cinder to have the opportunity to do for Emerald what no one had volunteered to do for her, to teach Emerald what she had had to learn for herself … it touched her humour.

The world did not desire such as they, but they could learn to play its games regardless.

And then there was the sense of rightness that accompanied. Ever since … ever since she had fled from Beacon, ever since Sunset had seen her truth and past, Cinder had felt … there was an itching in her back, something … she could not explain it. There was a beowolf inside her, she knew that; she felt it growl and prowl and thirst for blood. But she also felt of late as though there was something else inside of her as well. A lord inside? A better angel of her nature? Something else that had no name or defied easy categorisation? Regardless, it pushed her to do better. It didn't push her to turn away from her plans for glory — for which she was very grateful — but it did push her to be nicer to Emerald, to reward her service, to care for her servant. There was an extent to which it pushed her to use Lightning Dust better also, but it seemed that whatever was inside of her was something of a snob.

This was the only way she could think to repay the debt of Emerald's loyalty. She had no lands to give, no wealth to offer, and what power lay in their grasp could not be shared. But she could give Emerald the means to be more than a thief, to perform as though she belonged in the glittering world with the likes of Phoebe and Pyrrha.

That was all it was: performance. A wonderful performance at times, a stunning performance with elaborate costumes and grand sets, but a performance nonetheless. Speak in just such a way, walk in such a way, comprehend our cultural signifiers at the surface level, bandy quotations about, be able to recite our values, even if you don't live up to them.

And Cinder considered herself to be a very good performer.

And there was one final reason, the most unexpected of reasons why Cinder found herself taking pleasure in the instruction of Emerald: it was … pleasing to watch her progress. It was like watching a flower bloom before the sun. It was watching someone come into themselves and knowing that you had played some part in it.

It was something she could point to and say 'I did that.' Nothing else that she had done lately had yielded up that same sense of concrete accomplishment.

It was pleasant. It did not yield the same exultant satisfaction as, say, the death of an enemy, the glee like fire or scorching heat, but nevertheless, it was pleasing in a soft and gentle way, like a cool breeze on a summer's day.

Or the memory of such, from when she could still feel the breeze.

They began with stance and posture. Emerald moved like a thief, with a furtive, slinking gait and a slight hunch to her stance, as though she were preparing to duck at any moment. Cinder had her stand up straight, keep her chin up, to look down on people instead of bowing her head. Elocution followed, not words — they would come through reading, through exposure to them, but how to pronounce, how to enunciate, how to avoid clipping the edges of her words, how to affect the proper accent. How to say that the rain in Vacuo fell mainly … nowhere, since it was a desert, but Emerald could say that it fell mainly on the plain in such an accent that people would take her word for it.

Emerald concentrated, and it was a testament to her native wit that she picked up swiftly what Cinder sought to teach her, but Cinder could tell that she was at the same time a little bemused by it. When they got onto table manners, Emerald dared to give voice to her concerns.

"Cinder," she murmured, "I appreciate what you're doing—"

"And I appreciate that you are choosing your words with care," Cinder replied, smiling. She was sat at a little table she had moved into the library from the parlour, with a porcelain tea set — empty — spread out before her. Cinder had gone rooting around in the Manor to find it, discovering a great deal of smashed crockery before she did. "However," she went on, "it's quite unnecessary."

"Really?" Emerald asked.

Cinder's eyebrow rose. "Speak your mind," she commanded.

Emerald swallowed. "It's just that … some of this stuff … seems kind of pointless."

Cinder's hand clenched into a fist beneath the table. She took a deep breath, seeking to control her irritation; she had invited Emerald to speak freely, after all, and a display of anger would be a poor way to begin the lesson. Besides, it wasn't her fault: the fashion of the world trended that way and encouraged such thoughts and opinions.

And it wasn't as though she didn't have a point.

Cinder picked up one of the china cups, extending her pinkie finger outwards. The gold around the rim was gone, and so was most of the pattern around the sides. Cinder probably hadn't helped matters when she washed them; she detested washing dishes and had not taken the proper care she might have done.

She gathered her thoughts. "You are … not wrong," she conceded. "However, I have … three reasons why I do thus, three reasons why this is, in my opinion, worthwhile.

"You may say that class, in these times, is less important than money. Depending on which kingdom you choose to live in, you may be close to right. But money, unless one possesses a nigh-unlimited supply of it like Jacques Schnee, will not put one above suspicion. Suspicion, apart from anything else, as to where you got the money, particularly if you appear by manners and bearing to be unworthy of it, to have acquired it through illicit means. People will ask questions, people will investigate … but I have seen first-hand the way that the right accent, the right manners, can put one above all suspicion of wrongdoing. Convince them to accept you as a gentlewoman, Emerald, and the police will bow to you, defer to you, call you 'my lady,' and apologise for any inconvenience done to you. And behind closed doors, you may be as wicked as you please."

And the Kommeni had certainly known how to be wicked; the only lesson they had ever taught to Cinder.

"That ties into the second reason," she went on, "which is that, although it is true that these things have no real material value or benefit to them, nevertheless, they are important signifiers. Tell me, Emerald, why does Beacon Academy have leadership classes? Sit down; you look so awkward standing there like that."

Emerald sat, a slight frown crinkling her forehead. "Because Ozpin thinks that leadership can be taught?"

"Because Ozpin knows that leadership is performative," Cinder explained. "Though there is such a thing as innate leadership, most of those who choose to present themselves as such are not born leaders but, rather, those who have mastered the signifiers that we associate with leadership: the appearance of courage, the appearance of confidence. It is all put on.

"And so it is here. We are told that the world is moving in a more egalitarian direction, that we are all becoming more equal; leaving aside to what extent that is desirable, the fact is that it is not so. We are judged yet for how we seem, you know that well enough, no?"

Emerald nodded. "Well enough."

"And how we seem gives us the right to judge," Cinder said. "You will be amazed at how many people will consent to be looked down upon by one who fits their image of a social superior."

"I never did," Emerald pointed out.

Cinder smiled. "You are not most people," she replied. "And hence, you are worthy to join the elite. Again, mere possession of wealth will only carry you so far; certainly, it will not shield you against the sneers and snobbery which trail a parvenu. To be immune from sneers, you must act like they who sneer, and thus, you will also gain the right to sneer at others."

Emerald was silent for a moment. "And the third reason?"

"Hmm?"

"You said there were three reasons," Emerald reminded her.

"Ah, yes, of course," Cinder murmured. "Three reasons." She put down the teacup. "Humour me," she said.

"Cinder?"

Cinder said nothing for a moment. "There are times," she said, "when I hate these things."

"Manners?"

"The things that they are taken to signify," Cinder said. "Worth, chiefly; importance, acceptability. Do you recall I temporarily took leave of you to go to Mistral?"

Emerald nodded. "You met Sunset for the first time," she muttered.

"Indeed," Cinder agreed, a faint smile crossing her face at the memory. "I wore a gown of black, with white feathers in my hair; I almost looked like a grimm." She paused. "I wished that I could set a grimm amongst all those proud and indolent lords and turn their pretensions to blood and horror." Her whole body shuddered with that same desire, the beowolf inside awake now, prowling, growling within her. She bought her will to bear upon it, forcing it back to sleep, or at least back into its cage.

"I don't understand," Emerald said, "then why—?"

"Because I also remember my parents having afternoon tea on the veranda, with the view out to sea spread out before them," Cinder murmured.

Emerald blinked. "You … you've never talked about your family."

"Nor will I," Cinder said, "except to say that genteel manners … can be gentle. They may be of no practical import, they may cover up a host of misdeeds and abuses, they may be a paper facade that would prove worthless when the barbarity of the outside world intrudes, but at the same time … the fact that we can be something more than barbarians, that we consider one another to be worth more than coarseness and ill grace might be said to be something worth celebrating.

"Take," Cinder continued, "take Pyrrha, for instance." Little as she desired to take Pyrrha anywhere but an early grave, she was a good illustration of Cinder's point. "Take Jaune. Which do you think Pyrrha would prefer: that he touch her gently and speak her sweetly and kiss her softly and all things gallant and courteous besides, and at every step, inquire as to her comfort, or that he snarl and snap and rail at her and strike her and seize her body as by entitlement and use her to his pleasure and not hers?"

"The first one, obviously."

"Indeed, the second would leave her weeping," Cinder said. "For that which we use roughly, we esteem cheaply and show how little value we do place upon it. But that which we hold dear and precious, we treat with care and gentleness."

Emerald stared at her for a moment with a wide-eyed look of wondrous amazement on her face, though what cause she had to look amazed, Cinder could hardly say.

"I'm ready for the lesson now," she said.

Manners, then. How to sit, how to hold a cup, which knife and fork when many knives and forks were present, which wine to order with which meal — don’t order red wine with fish; it will give you away immediately. A lot of this, it was true, was covered in Atlesian etiquette classes, but Cinder was not certain that Emerald had been paying much attention in those classes; there was no harm in giving her … a refresher, at the very least.

Cinder herself … she had rather enjoyed those, and had been getting very good marks before she had been forced to flee from Beacon; as she had confessed to Emerald, it had reminded her of home, of her mother before she died, of the fellow officers of the Argus station who had called upon her and father at their home, who had dined with them. When she had been a very young girl, who ought to have gone to bed by the time the dinner parties got into swing, Cinder had been used to sit halfway up the stairs, arms wrapped around the bannisters, listening to the conversation in the dining room. She had not understood half, or more than half, of what was being said, but it had been pleasant to sit there nonetheless, to listen to the hubbub flowing around her and try to comprehend what words she could.

She could still remember their names: Major Croft, Captain Wentworth, Lieutenant Benwick, Lieutenant Harville. She remembered the way that they had brought her presents, doted on her. They had seemed so decent then, so noble.

She remembered the way that they had all disappeared after her mother died, all those decent, courteous, honourable officers. Not all at once; there had been visits at first, but these had been perfunctory things, etiquette and courtesy masking a fundamental disinterest: ‘are you in health’, that sort of thing. And then they had stopped coming altogether. They had abandoned Cinder to the mercy of the Kommeni.

That was the problem with manners, of course; it didn’t mean you actually gave a damn. It just enabled you to hide the fact that you didn’t care with nice words and proper behaviour.

It was all … a bit of a lie, really. But lies could make the world a better place, from time to time, and lies would allow Emerald to prosper in her future, and so, Cinder shook off her … mixed feelings and continued the lesson.

And after that … after that, it was literature, to which Cinder had, she would confess, been looking forward.

It was fortunate that they were having these lessons in the library, and it was fortunate that the library of Portchester was well stocked with the classics, because it meant that Cinder could, when the time was right, simply pluck The Mistraliad from the shelf and hold it lightly in one hand.

“There are books that are called Great Books,” Cinder said, “and we shall cover a few of those in summary—”

“Why are they called 'Great Books'?” Emerald asked.

“Because some professor at a university decided that they were,” Cinder answered. “Although, lest that should sound too cynical, I should add that those which are considered great are, in my opinion, rather good.”

While Phoebe had gone to Atlas to train in arms, Philonoe, her other stepsister, had wished to attend the University of Mistral and study Greats, otherwise known as literae humaniores, a mixture of ancient literature, languages, and history. Cinder had burned her alive before she got the chance, but before that, she had borrowed a great many of Philonoe’s books and read them by torchlight while the rest of the family was asleep. She had quite enjoyed some of them.

None, though, meant so very much to her as the book that she held in her hand. “This book, Emerald, this book is, in my opinion and in the opinion of other learned fellows, ancient and modern, the greatest of the great. When you read a text, and the author refers to simply ‘the poet’ — as the poet sang, as the poet teaches us, in the words of the poet, that sort of thing — they are always referring to Demodocus, who set down The Mistraliad, the song of arms and the man, many generations ago.”

“I’ve never read it,” Emerald murmured.

“I didn’t expect that you had,” Cinder replied. “But you have the chance now, seeing as we are not otherwise overburdened with work, and I … I really do recommend it to you, for every conceivable reason. This book is … this book is the foundation of Mistralian culture, it is the wellspring of all the values of that kingdom, even if they are values which are only pretended to. If you wish to pass for a lady, then you must at least be able to perform a familiarity with this book; everyone has read it, it will seem bizarre if you have not, so you must acquire at least a passing familiarity with the principal characters, the notable scenes, a few of the more quotable lines of dialogue. More than that, it…” She paused for a moment. “This book, this tale, could be completely unknown,” Cinder declared. “It could have been forgotten, lost save for a single copy which had fallen into my hands, it could be the case that you could read it and no one would understand what you were talking about, and still, I would urge you to read it regardless, because … because it is tremendous. There is a reason it has not been forgotten, there is a reason that a kingdom and a culture have been built upon it, and that reason is that it speaks powerfully to what it means to be … to be human.”

Again, Cinder paused, wondering if she had forfeited her claim upon this tale of humanity in her pursuit of … no, since she was in pursuit of all those things that animated the heroes of the tale, how could she lose her claim upon the tale by the means by which she pursued them?

“There is a tale,” Cinder went on, “that during the Great War, as General Colton and his Valish army were sailing from Sanus to Mistral, the general called upon an island lying between the two continents to consult with the famous philosopher Stessichus, and that all the wisdom Stessichus gave him was contained within the pages of The Mistraliad, for the wisdom of the poet is timeless.”

“Did General Colton pay attention?” Emerald asked.

“No, he mocked Stessichus for not having any new thoughts in his head.” Cinder said. “And so he was defeated in his campaign by Ares Claudandus; serves him right, the uncultured swine.”

Again, she took pause, weighing the book in her hand. “Emerald,” she murmured. “You and I … you and I are … we are not so different as I once believed. Both … alone, forced to fend for ourselves, forced to teach ourselves how to survive in the midst of a world that did not want us. The difference between us is that … is that I had this book, I had the great Pyrrha to inspire me, the cunning Diomedes to mentor me, the noble Juturna to steel my heart. They made me what I am, in my faults, but in my glories too.”

Emerald hesitated for a moment. “Is that … is that the story with the giant badger?”

“It was actually a giant rabbit, but no,” Cinder said. “Eventually, yes, as the legends go, Diomedes did construct a giant rabbit in which the warriors hid, so that when the Mistralians opened the gates to receive it, their enemies poured out and sacked the city, but that comes later; in fact, it comes in the Solitasis, now mostly lost to us save for fragments and summary. Everyone confuses The Mistraliad with all the other legends around the war — the kidnapping of the princess, the rabbit, and so on and so forth — but it is not. It is a much tighter work, more focussed, and yet, in its focus, universal.”

“Then what is it about?” asked Emerald.

“The wrath of Pyrrha,” Cinder said. “Yes, she was named after the hero; in fact, she is her descendant, and yes, I find that fact incredibly infuriating. Not least for the way that all of Mistral hangs upon her star, her Evenstar and praises her as though she were her namesake reborn, and yet, they are nothing alike. Pyrrha, the great Pyrrha, the Pyrrha that lives within these pages, that taught me and moulded me and spoke to me, she is … she is wild, chaotic, driven by an overriding, one might say overreaching, passion. Does that sound at all like that red-haired milksop back at Beacon?”

“Not really,” Emerald murmured.

“No,” Cinder said. “No, it does not. And yet, she is the Evenstar, she is the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, she is … she is everything, and everything wrong with what Mistral has become, the decay of … people know this story, but they do not understand it, or rather, they do not wish to understand it; everything has become softened, has had its hard edges smoothed away; everything has become acceptable for the consumption of children and tourists. And so, the pride of Mistral, the model of our virtue, is this soft, mild, shy, beauty of a girl who looks good on cereal boxes and would never say or do anything untoward while I…”

“Cinder?”

“I am the true Evenstar of Mistral,” Cinder declared. “All that is embodied in these heroes, I embody also: all their pride, all their vanity, all their overreach, it lives in me as it never could in Pyrrha Nikos, for all that she be descended from a line of heroes, princes, and emperors.”

Emerald was silent for a moment. She squirmed in her seat as though she had piles. “Is … is that a good thing, though?”

Cinder blinked. “I … what do you mean?”

“I mean … it doesn’t sound all that great,” Emerald said, speaking very quietly, as though she hoped that Cinder wouldn’t actually hear her. “None of those things … they’re not actually good things. I mean, they don’t sound good.”

Cinder frowned. “Do they not?”

“Pride, vanity, overreach,” Emerald repeated. “Not really.”

“No?” Cinder asked. “Without pride, how will we retain ourselves? Without ambition, for what will we be remembered? We live in a society that is eager to grind us down, you know this as well as I do; we are … we are nothing. What is Cinder Fall, what is Emerald Sustrai, what are we worth, to the rich and the powerful? What are we for, but to be used for their purposes and then discarded? We are nothing to them; we are nothing to the world. None will regard us unless we regard ourselves; we must hold our heads up high, we must believe that we are worth more than they believe, for no one else will believe it on our behalf. We must reach for more than they think us capable of. And you know this, Emerald; you may not like the words, but you know this, or why did I find you robbing high-end jewellery stores?”

“You could get good money for some of those things.”

“At a high risk,” Cinder pointed out.

“Yeah,” Emerald conceded. “But the risk is worth it.”

“Tell me that you did not think that you should be wearing some of the fine things you stole,” Cinder demanded, folding her arms — though she still held onto the book. “Tell me that did not enter into your consideration at all.”

Emerald hesitated. She squirmed in place. She looked away. “I did sometimes think … why not me? Why them? And when I would trick the jeweller, use my semblance to make him see a lady or a bride to be and her fiancée, I would think … why not me?”

Cinder nodded approvingly. “It shall be you,” she declared. “One day. I give you my word. That is why I chose you, Emerald, not for your semblance or your skill; I could find a hundred thieves with sticky fingers, I could find semblances of as much use as yours or greater, but I chose you because I saw your pride and your ambition; then, you may have wished to deny it even to yourself. It shall be yours. All that you desire.”

“But not yours?” Emerald asked. “Why are you doing this, Cinder?”

“This … what?”

“All of this,” Emerald declared. “This war, this fight, these plans … you said it yourself: you’re the underdog, you’re up against so much, it … it almost sounded like you didn’t expect to win. It sounded … you sounded as if you were going to your death.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “In The Mistraliad,” she said, “when Pyrrha forsakes the battle, her dear friend — and more than friend, it is widely believed — Camilla leads out their forces in her stead, and in the fighting, she is killed by Juturna, the princess and champion of Mistral. Pyrrha flies into a rage, a rage made deeper by guilt; she hates Juturna, but more than that, she hates herself for having not been there when Camilla needed her the most, for being the cause of Camilla’s death. And so, Pyrrha makes a bargain with her mother, a goddess: the gods will grant Pyrrha vengeance, she will strike down Juturna … but her own death will follow hard upon. That is what the gods offer Pyrrha, and she accepts, without a second thought.

“Earlier that morning, as the Mistralian troops assemble at the gate, Juturna’s husband begs her not to lead the army out personally. He begs her to command from the walls, to take pity on him, to think of what would become of their family in her absence. Juturna, though she is not unmindful, refuses, for all that — or perhaps because — the day will come when Mistral must fall, the slaughter of Polyperchon and his people. She must go, you see, as Pyrrha must, as Sarpedon and Glauce must, they must go.”

“But why must you?” Emerald demanded. “Why do you have to fight, although you’ve just described the odds against you? Atlas, Mistral, Sunset and Pyrrha and General Ironwood and all his men, you’re going to send me away because the battles to come will be too dangerous, but you plan to let those same battles consume you until there’s nothing left? What are you even fighting for?”

“What am I fighting for?” Cinder repeated. “I…”

She trailed off. It was not a question so easily answered. She could not say, as Juturna had, that she fought for her home, her father, her people, her city. It was Pyrrha’s answer then. In some ways, she too had made a bargain with a god, although Salem perhaps did not understand the nature of the bargain that they had struck. Salem … Salem planned to win this war, with Cinder as her instrument. Cinder herself … Cinder would win this battle for Vale, and strike down Pyrrha Nikos, and then…

She would do all that she could, fight as hard as she could, strive with all her might and all the power that she could attain, but she was under no illusions. She might try to bring down the world, but she would not succeed. Nor, to be perfectly honest, would she wish to do so. For a hero, after all, the end of the story was as important as anything else, and ‘and then she won everything and went home content’ was not much of a heroic ending.

And that was without mentioning the fact that she had no home to go back to.

Everything but my pride was taken from me, and nothing was given in return but a rage that only bloody vengeance can begin to sate. And so, I will fight for those things because I have nothing else to fight for.

Certainly, I have nothing else to live for.

“What is there but the fight?” Cinder asked. She raised her hand and let flames spark at her fingertips. “I have a fire in me, Emerald; I must let it burn brightly, though it burn me out and consume me until only ashes remain. What have I else?”

“That’s not true,” Emerald declared. “You could—”

There was a knock on the door.

“What?” Cinder demanded.

“My name is Tempest Shadow,” came a voice from the other side of the door. “I believe you’ve been expecting me.”

Powder Keg (Rewritten)

Powder Keg

Cinder kept her face composed. She did not want to show her emotions in front of Emerald, especially not now that they were approaching a greater degree of equality, and so, she kept her expression calm, emotionless, inscrutable.

Inside, she could feel the fire stirring to life anew. Inside, she could feel the beowolf start to growl.

She clasped her hands together behind her back, so that nobody could see them clench into fists.

“Come in,” she said, keeping her tone even and neutral.

The door into the library opened, and the girl who had identified herself from without as Tempest Shadow walked in.

Cinder recognised her, vaguely; she was an Atlas student, part of Team … Tsunami, yes, Team Tsunami, the one with the loudmouth for a leader. Cinder could remember them, but that did not translate to memories of Tempest Shadow, although from that, Cinder took the fact that she, unlike her notional leader, was not a loudmouth.

What she was was tall, as tall as Pyrrha — and thus, annoyingly, taller than Cinder herself — and seeming taller still by the Mohawk in which she wore her rose-coloured hair, which rose like the crest of a helmet and added almost an extra foot to her not inconsiderable height. A black bodysuit, skintight but with everything that might have been revealed covered up by additional armour-like pads of semi-solid looking plastic, embraced her entire body from the neck down, although she was wearing a pair of black boots with dark purple toecaps upon her feet also.

Her eyes were opal and marred upon the right side of her face by a scar that descended down from her temple, crossing the eye and continuing down her cheek.

She had a weapon slung across her back, although being slung across her back as it was, what the weapon might be exactly, Cinder could not yet tell.

So, this was Doctor Watts' better agent. Cinder could already see why he might have wanted to keep her to himself. Between Tempest and Sweetie Drops, there was no doubt in Cinder’s mind that Tempest was the favourite.

That much was clear to her from the way that Tempest stood, mirroring Cinder’s stance with her hands clasped behind her back, her face as expressionless and as impossible to read as Cinder was endeavouring to make her own.

She was not afraid of Cinder, or if she was, then she was determined not to show it. She didn’t want to let Watts down by showing fear in the presence of his rival.

It was intolerable. To waltz in here, after so long, after so much delay, and then to offer not a single word of apology or excuse, not to explain, not to do anything, just to stand there as though nothing was wrong.

Cinder might have been willing to accept an apology, if delivered with the right amount of fawning, but this? She was supposed to bear this?

Cinder took a deep breath. “Emerald, would you mind leaving the room?” she asked, showing more courtesy than she had in the past reserved for Emerald, now that they were closer in social status; besides, it would send all the wrong messages if she taught Emerald how to speak and act and carry herself in such a way as to win the respect of others and then went on showing her no respect herself. “I fear I am about to do something unladylike.”

Emerald got up from her seat. “I … of course, Cinder.” She started to make her way towards the door.

“Back straight,” Cinder whispered, because she could see from her stance that Emerald was tempted to assume the slinking gait that came so naturally to her.

She could understand why; this was a situation that seemed to invite slinking and smallness and moving in such a way as not to be noticed, but once you started down that road … no. You held your head up high no matter the circumstances, and damned all who tried to bring you down. That was the only way. That was what it meant to still have your pride.

Emerald glanced at her, and a brief smile flitted across her lips, and she walked towards the door with her back straight and her chin up and damn Tempest Shadow.

“Oh, Emerald,” Cinder called to her, when she had almost reached the door. “Would you kindly fetch Sonata Dusk, bring her here, and wait with her outside until our business is concluded? Tempest will be out to take charge of her soon enough.”

Emerald hesitated for a moment, and then she curtsied, even though she was hardly dressed for the gesture, crossing her left leg behind her right and spreading her arms out slightly on either side of her. “Of course, Cinder,” she said, “as you wish.”

The corner of Cinder’s lip curled upwards in the slightest smile. Good girl.

Emerald turned, ignoring Tempest Shadow completely — as she should; one should never pay any visible attention to the help until one had need of their services, which was not, of course, to say that one shouldn’t keep a discrete eye on what they were up to, just that you should never, ever make it obvious that was what you were doing — as she walked out through the doorway.

She shut the door behind her, leaving Cinder and Tempest alone in the library.

Tempest glanced at the closed door. “Was I interrupting something?” She smirked. “I can come back later, if that’s more convenient.”

Oh, you think you’re terribly witty, don’t you? Cinder thought. She glanced down at The Mistraliad in her hand. Diomedes had known how to deal with wags and wits.

“Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate.”

She carefully put the book back on the shelf, since it seemed that the literature lesson had been postponed for just a little while.

“So,” she said softly, “you are Tempest Shadow.”

“Yes,” Tempest replied.

“Nice of you to finally show yourself,” Cinder remarked.

Tempest snorted. “I was busy.”

Cinder wondered if Tempest had any idea just how badly she wanted to roast the other girl alive. Nevertheless, she forced herself to face Watts’ agent and chuckle.

She had no idea whether it was at all convincing or whether it sounded as false as it felt, but nevertheless, she chuckled. She chuckled as she strode across the library, bearing down on Tempest Shadow.

She advanced upon her, until practically no distance at all remained.

Tempest Shadow looked down on her.

She looked down on Cinder Fall.

It was the final insult, slight upon slight piled upon Cinder’s head, and now, she looked down upon her.

It was not to be borne.

Cinder’s face contorted into a snarl of rage as she swept Tempest’s legs out from under her with a swift kick. Tempest Shadow was broad of shoulder, and with firm legs besides, but Cinder had caught her by surprise, and her legs went flying out from under her as she fell sideways with a startled gasp, hitting the wooden library floor with a thump.

Cinder kicked her while she was down, driving her slipper-clad foot into Tempest’s gut, before kneeling on the floor and grabbing Watts’ prized pet by the throat.

“Just who,” she snarled, “do you think you are?”

Anger flared in Tempest’s opal eyes, warming them somewhat as, with one hand, she reached up and grabbed Cinder’s forearm, trying to wrench her away from Tempest’s throat.

Cinder offered a grin that was something of a grimace. “Nice to see some honest emotion out of you,” she said, as with her own free hand, she grabbed Tempest’s hand and, with her semblance, began to apply a little bit of heat to it.

Tempest didn’t react; she kept on trying to pull Cinder’s hand away from her neck. She didn’t appear to notice that her arm was getting steadily warmer and warmer.

Strange, unless…

Cinder cocked her head to one side. “Did you lose the arm in the service of Atlas, or of Doctor Watts?”

Tempest’s eyes widened. “H— what are you doing?”

“This,” Cinder said, and began to apply her semblance to her other hand instead, to the one that was holding Tempest by the neck.

Tempest winced and began to squirm and writhe in Cinder’s grasp, trying to shake free of the heat that was becoming increasingly unbearable.

“I don’t know whether Arthur put you up to this, or whether it was your clever idea,” Cinder snarled, “but let me make one thing very clear to you: you are not Arthur Watts, and you are not my equal. I have not affection for your master, nor he for me: he thinks me too erratic, too arrogant, too … unpredictable.” She chuckled. “He might even be right. And so he snipes at me and makes mock of me, and since we are equals, I must bear his insults and put all thoughts of vengeance or retribution from my mind. You, on the other hand, are not my equal. You may be Doctor Watts’ favoured servant, but you are a servant nevertheless. You are a servant, and right now, you are serving me. Do not play games with me again, do I make myself clear?”

Tempest nodded. There was anger in her eyes, hate even; Cinder cared not. Let Tempest hate her all she liked, it was of no import.

Cinder released her, rising to her feet and ostentatiously turning her back upon the other girl. “I have been chosen to carry this operation forward,” she declared. “Without me, this enterprise, so crucial to our cause, cannot succeed. Remember that.”

Tempest rose to her feet, clutching at her neck with one hand, not the one that Cinder was fairly sure was artificial. “It seems,” she said, “as though you can’t succeed without me either.”

“You believed that, and yet you dallied?” Cinder asked, without confirming whether or not it was true. “Some might question your dedication.”

Tempest was silent for a moment. “What is it you would have me do?”

“Outside that door there is a Siren,” Cinder said. “She is … an otherworldly creature, although she may not seem so by her manners or behaviour. You will escort her into Vale, and there, she will sing.”

She had no idea if Watts had briefed Tempest Shadow on all of this already or not, but there was no harm in going over it all again; it eliminated the possibility that Watts had given Tempest the wrong instructions to trip up Cinder and make her look foolish.

“'Sing'?” Tempest asked.

Cinder turned to face her. “Her voice has magic in it; she can control people, spread negative emotions.”

“Ah,” Tempest murmured. “That explains it.”

Cinder didn’t ask her to clarify what she thought had just been explained. “I need her to spread negative emotions throughout Vale; this will require more than one trip, I know, so you will find yourself busy. You will escort her into Vale, let her give her performances, and then bring her back here. In addition to that, I will give you the names of men in Vale I wish you to contact on my behalf.”

“What kind of men?” asked Tempest.

Cinder debated not telling Tempest, leaving her ignorant, informing her that she had no need to know that particular detail; however, if matters proved to be more complicated than simply going to certain addresses — if, for example, contact was lost between them for whatever reason — then it might be as well that Tempest had sufficient information to operate independently. After all, Cinder had to admit that one of the reasons that Sweetie Drops had been so useless to her was that Cinder had attempted to micromanage her from a distance, doling out very little information and only bare instructions that Sweetie, without context, had failed to properly execute.

It might be better to give Tempest Shadow a little more to go on.

“Grimm cultists,” Cinder said. “Black Shepherds, in the main, sect leaders; I need them to come here so that I may give them their instructions.”

Her plan — which she was not about to reveal to Tempest in its entirety — was two-pronged. First, she would use Sonata’s power to spread strife and discord amongst the defenders of Vale; since she could not cripple the Atlesian power with a computer virus, she would spread a virus through the hearts of men. Vale already resented Atlas for saving them from the Breach; it would only require a little sweet siren song to enflame that resentment into something more dangerous.

The second part of her plan involved using the deluded worshippers of the grimm and of their mistress to carry out acts of sabotage against the defences of Vale when the moment of decision came. She would plunge all of Vale into a state of chaos.

And as the confusion reigned, she would take the crown for Salem and the magic for herself, and then … and then, she would seize the CCT and let the world know that it was she, Cinder Fall, who had brought these great powers to their knees.

Then she would kill Pyrrha while the cameras were rolling.

Admittedly, she hadn’t quite thought through the logistics of getting Pyrrha alone for their last fight yet — it would be something of a challenge to separate her from her teammates, let alone anyone else — but she would think of something before the moment came.

Maybe she’ll come running to stop me when she finds out that I’m at the tower.

No, Sunset would never let her do that by herself, even if she was so foolish.

Never mind; the answer will come to me.

In any case, that was only the last part of a plan that was otherwise fully developed. She had sewn the seeds with the Breach, giving the Atlesians a moment of glory which the Valish would seethe and stew at; now, Sonata would plough the ground for her.

And then it would be a simple matter of waiting for the appropriate harvest time.

“I see,” Tempest said softly. “On the other side of that door?”

“Or will be, soon enough,” Cinder replied.

Tempest snorted. “I’ve never met an otherworldly magical creature before. You won’t mind if I get started right away?”

Oh, now you want to get started. “By all means,” Cinder said, gesturing towards the door.

Tempest walked to the door and opened it.

“Hey there! I hear that somebody is my brand new escort!” Sonata cried. “Hey, can we get something to eat when we’re in the big city, because I am staaaarving!”

Tempest looked at Cinder in disbelief.

“As I said,” Cinder reminded her, “‘despite her appearance and behaviour.’”

“Oh my gosh this is so amazing!” Sonata yelled through her mouthful of food. “What did you say this was called again?”

“It’s called a taco,” Tempest said slowly. “And they’re not really that great.”

“'Not that great,' have you tried these?” Sonata asked. She had the rest of her taco clutched in one hand, wrapped in silver foil. “You wanna try it?” She waved the half-eaten taco in Tempest’s face.

Tempest leaned away. “Thanks … I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Sonata said. “More for me, I guess.” She swallowed and immediately took another bite. As she chewed, she seemed for the first time to notice the looks that she was getting from the populace as she and Tempest walked down the Vale street. “Why is everybody looking at us?”

“Not us: you,” Tempest said. “They’re looking at you because you’re dressed like the heartwarming orphan in a musical theatre production. Speaking of which…”

“Shopping first, then singing,” Sonata said cheerfully. “Like you just said, I need to change out of this outfit.”

“Sure,” Tempest said. “Just remember that this is my money you’re spending before you go too crazy.”

Sonata nodded as she swallowed her next bite of taco. “So, how long have you been working with Cinder?”

“I don’t work for Cinder,” Tempest said firmly, rounding on Sonata, who came to a hurried halt, almost — but not quite — dropping her taco in the process. “I work for Doctor Watts. I … he has temporarily placed me at Cinder’s disposal, but I do not work for her.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s a big difference,” Sonata agreed, nodding eagerly. She took another bite out of her taco and tried to speak with her mouth full, to incomprehensible results.

Tempest’s eyebrows rose. “You want to try repeating that?”

Sonata swallowed. “Sorry. I was just saying, I think you’re pretty lucky; not everyone who works for Cinder seems to like it very much.”

“Really?” Tempest murmured. That was interesting to know, if true, but she wasn’t sure that she would trust Sonata to tell her that the sky was blue at this point, the way that she was acting. “Emerald didn’t seem to have an issue with her; in fact, they seemed quite close, the way that they were carrying on together.”

“Yeah, they’re tight,” Sonata agreed. “But Lightning Dust … she’s not a happy camper, if you know what I mean. I don’t think she’s feeling very appreciated.”

“Is that a fact?” Tempest said softly. When she returned with Sonata to the manor, she would have to find an excuse to talk with Lightning Dust, find out if there was any truth to what Sonata was saying.

“It is!” Sonata insisted. “Cinder was talking about her behind her back to Emerald; it was really mean.”

“Seriously?” Tempest demanded. “Talking about her behind her— how old are they?”

She sighed. No wonder Doctor Watts had nothing but contempt for Cinder. Still, anything that she could use would do; if she could strip Cinder of all her subordinates, it would make supplanting her so much easier.

Perhaps Sonata wasn’t as foolish as she looked.

“Don’t answer that,” Tempest added, before Sonata could respond. “Anyway, we should—”

“Tempest?”

Tempest rolled her eyes. “Oh God, it would be her, wouldn’t it?”

“Tempest?” The voice that assailed the ears of Tempest Shadow was aristocratic, refined, and thoroughly detestable to… Tempest supposed that there was someone to whom that voice was not thoroughly detestable, but for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine who that somebody might be.

The voice belonged to Phoebe Kommenos, leader of Team PSTL, and she was making her way down the street towards Tempest and Sonata. She was dressed in a provocative red summer dress that, much as it pained Tempest to admit, flattered her figure exactly as much as she seemed to think it did, with her bright golden hair hanging in artful, almost regal-seeming ringlets all around her head. Golden bangles gleamed in the sunlight upon both her arms, and her eyes were concealed behind a pair of designer sunglasses. Her teammate Mal Sapphire, a goat faunus with a pair of horns growing out of her forehead, followed in the footsteps, her arms heavily laden down with shopping bags that Tempest already knew belonged to Phoebe, not Mal.

A gaggle of other Atlas students, all girls, followed in Phoebe’s wake. Tempest could only assume that they got something out of her company, because she couldn’t imagine that anyone would choose to willingly associate with Phoebe Kommenos unless there was some advantage in it.

Or perhaps, given by the way that their hair was all exquisitely arranged, their faces made up, and their clothes all of the very finest quality, they were all just as awful as Phoebe herself. Birds of a feather and all that.

For herself, it had been many years since Tempest had seen the point of friends. In this world, you could only rely on yourself, ultimately; when the crunch came, everyone else would abandon you, even those you thought loved you the most.

Phoebe might learn that lesson herself, in time.

Tempest kind of hoped she would.

“Tempest,” Phoebe declared again, condescension rolling off the name. “So it is you.” She smirked. “I thought I recognised your grim countenance and dour dress.”

“And I recognised you,” Tempest said, “using your teammate as a pack mule.”

Phoebe laughed. “Well, you know how it is, one needs to keep one's hands free just in case, and really, what else are the little beasts good for, after all?”

Her human companions giggled appreciatively, as though she had just said something terribly witty. Phoebe herself smiled as though she had reason to be pleased with herself as her gaze slid from Tempest to Sonata.

“And who is this?” Phoebe asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and I think I would have remembered somebody dressed so unfashionably. Tempest, are you volunteering with the homeless now?” She laughed again and, once again, was joined by her fawning hangers-on. “But that gem looks like it might be worth something.” She leaned forwards to affix Sonata with a glare. “Now where did someone like you get something like that? Did you steal it?” She reached out one lithe-fingered hand to it, as though she had half a mind to steal it herself. “It obviously doesn’t belong to a little—”

Sonata’s hand intercepted Phoebe’s before it had gotten half-way, closing around her wrist with a strength that made Phoebe Kommenos cry out in pain. Tempest tensed, Phoebe’s cronies gasped in shock, Mal made a squeaking sound of alarm.

This could be very bad, Tempest thought. She didn’t want to fight all of these students — her fellow students, supposedly — but of course she couldn’t allow Sonata to come to any harm. Cinder or no, Doctor Watts had impressed on her how crucial the siren was to the best plan that they had right now.

Tempest would just have to defend her and hope to wriggle free of any consequence.

And if not, then she would have to take the consequences for the sake of the mission.

For the sake of the mission and Doctor Watts.

Tempest steeled herself for the outbreak of violence … and then Sonata began to sing.

It was hard for Tempest to focus on the individual words; it felt … it felt as though there was a kind of fog coming down on her mind, inhibiting her concentration, clouding her thoughts. She couldn’t hear the words; although she knew that there were words, it was as though … it was as though they weren’t really meant for her somehow. She felt anger rousing inside of her, but it was like she wasn’t meant to feel that angry, and so … so, she didn’t. She felt angry, but nothing compared to the fury that she could see boiling on the face of Phoebe Kommenos.

“P-Pyrrha,” Phoebe growled through gritted teeth. “Going … get her…”

Sonata crooned softly, and as she sang, she released Phoebe’s hand and began to circle around her, stroking the Atlesian team leader on her shoulders and her neck, leaning in to practically whisper in her ear.

Around Tempest, she could see other people in the street starting to argue with one another, muttering angrily and one or two even shouting at one another. She could see Phoebe’s acolytes turn on each other, accusations thrown this way and that, petty things but seemingly no less heartfelt for all that.

The gem around Sonata’s neck seemed brighter than it had done a moment ago.

Sonata ceased her song and stood behind Phoebe with a bright smile on her face.

Phoebe growled at the empty air, Tempest and Sonata seemingly forgotten. “Come on, girls!” she said, turning away. “Mal! Don’t just stand there like a moron; get moving!” She stalked off down the street, and her companions followed in her wake, still muttering amongst one another, shooting dirty glares at one another as they trailed after Phoebe.

In whatever state they left, they left.

Tempest was left alone with Sonata.

“So,” Tempest said. “That’s your power, huh?”

“Yep!” Sonata chirruped. “You don’t mind, do you? She wasn’t a friend of yours, was she?”

“Hardly,” Tempest muttered. “What was it you did, precisely?”

Sonata shrugged. “She was a pretty angry person; I just made it boil up a little bit. What’s that about, anyway? Why is she so angry?”

Tempest smirked. “You ever heard of the Invincible Girl, Pyrrha Nikos?”

“I think Cinder might have mentioned her once or twice.”

“Phoebe would like to think of herself as Pyrrha’s rival,” Tempest said. “One of them anyway; even Phoebe knows that Arslan is the real rival. That … would not be ideal, from her perspective, but a champion can never have too many rivals, can they?” She smiled thinly, a smile which failed to reach her eyes. “No, the real trouble is that it’s such a one-sided rivalry, and even Phoebe knows it. It’s not that she’s never beaten Pyrrha — nobody has ever beaten Pyrrha, after all; that’s the point — it’s the fact that she’s never even come close. The public don’t like her; her fellow competitors don’t respect her. It eats at her, and she blames Pyrrha for it.”

“You know a lot about her, don’t you?” Sonata asked.

“I’m curious about people,” Tempest said. “I like to understand them, how they think, what motivates them.” She paused for a moment. “When things happen that you don’t expect, when you get blindsided by a surprise … that’s when you get hurt. When you understand everything and everyone around you, when you can predict what they’ll do, that’s when you can plot the path to victory.” Her gaze lingered upon her Siren companion. What is it that motivates you?

Sonata took a step back. “Do I have something on my face?”

I’m more concerned with whether or not you’ve got anything in your head. “No,” Tempest said. “So … is that what you do? You bring people’s anger up to the surface?”

Sonata shrugged once more. “It’s one of the things I do.”

“Why?”

Sonata blinked. “Why what?”

“Why do you do it?” Tempest asked.

“Why does a shark swim?” Sonata asked. “Why does it eat all of the other little fishies?” She stuffed the remainder of her taco into her mouth. “Now can we go shopping? I really want to change out of this mess and get some cool clothes like everybody else is wearing.”

So, you do this because … you’re born this way? That wasn’t particularly helpful, even if Tempest believed it. It was hard to predict a creature driven by its base instincts when you only had a feeble, rudimentary grasp on what those instincts might be.

In any case, Tempest didn’t believe her, not completely. It might be that some of this was in her nature, but Sonata would have to be stupider than she was — and while she wasn’t as stupid as she wanted Tempest to think she was, Tempest did not think her very bright; that comment about sharks had been an accidental slip of the mask. She could have asked why the fish swam, but she had had to say shark and reveal how she really saw herself: a predator — to have no will or desire of her own.

She wanted something. She wanted, it seemed, to cause a rift between Cinder and those around her, like Tempest and Lightning Dust. That was fine by Tempest, but she couldn’t yet work out why Sonata wanted it.

Perhaps she wanted nothing more than to escape in the confusion when the knives came out.

Or perhaps there was more to it than that, but Tempest wasn’t going to find it out by staring at her or standing here pondering. In order to understand people, you sometimes had no choice but to observe them in action.

And besides, she had a job to do.

A job that entailed taking Sonata clothes shopping.

It was not fair to say that Doctor Watts wasn’t paying Tempest for her services; it was not widely known, but there were those — like Trixie and Starlight, from whom it was hard to have secrets — who knew that Tempest received a modest income courtesy of an anonymous benefactor who was watching her career with great interest. But the key word in that was ‘modest,’ so Tempest took Sonata to one of Vale’s more budget clothing stores; paid, albeit reluctantly, for the things that Sonata chose; and then waited outside the changing room for the siren to emerge.

“Ta-da!” Sonata cried when she actually did emerge, throwing her arms up and outwards, forming a Y shape with her body as she struck a pose, one foot in front of the other, her back contorting as she thrust her bosom outwards.

The siren was dressed in a short-sleeved violet jacket that matched her eyes and left her forearms bare; beneath that, a short skirt of bright neon pink covered her thigh, while high violet boots with bright pink socks underneath went up almost to her knees. A pair of pink bracelets studded with metal spikes clung to her wrists, while her hair was bound up in a high ponytail which still fell down to her waist before curving back upwards.

“Do I look great or what?”

“You look … fine,” Tempest said evenly. It wasn’t as if she was a great judge of fashion in any event. “Are you ready now?”

“Ready to sing? You betcha!” Sonata said. She hesitated. “Uh, what am I supposed to be singing about again?”

Tempest rolled her eyes. She suspected that Sonata had genuinely forgotten. “You’re supposed to be causing ill-feeling amongst the Valish towards Atlas.”

“Oh, yeah, right; I remember now,” Sonata said. “Piece of cake. I could do that all on my own, which is a good thing, considering I am alone, right?” She chuckled. “So, where do you want me to start; shall I start right here?”

“Not right here, no,” Tempest said. “Wait until I give you the word.”

The store to which Tempest had brought her was in a pedestrianised street, where cars were off limits and the whole road was reserved for foot traffic, so as to reduce noise pollution and provide a more convivial — and safer — experience for shoppers. People thronged the street; the initial shock of the Breach that had driven the people of Vale to huddle in their homes and shun the out of doors had subsided now, people had realised that they were not in imminent danger of being devoured by beowolves, and the late summer weather had brought them out to pack the street, passing in and out of the shops, heading up the street towards the movie theatre and the shopping centre or down it towards the metro station. The weather was still just warm enough to make ice cream a tempting treat, and there was more than one cart selling it, alongside lollies and lemonade and various other peddled foods and drinks for the end of summer. The air hummed with conversation and with the thumping of hundreds of footsteps on the pedestrianised road.

And in the sky directly above them, an Atlesian cruiser hung, casting a shadow over the road, a visible and inescapable symbol of Vale’s failure and its shame.

With Sonata now dressed in a casual style, nobody paid her much mind as she followed Tempest’s lead; Tempest’s own get-up attracted no notice at all, since it was hardly unusual to see a young huntress on the streets.

Nobody questioned them as they made their way towards the metro station, where hordes of people filed in and out, rising up out of the underground or else descending down into its depths.

Nobody marked them. This was a common spot for buskers and singers, a place where you were guaranteed an audience, willing or otherwise.

The lack of sound pollution, courtesy of the no-traffic policy, was certainly a big help too.

“Here,” Tempest said, “but don’t start just yet.”

Doctor Watts had warned her about this, and after hearing a little of Sonata’s voice, Tempest could understand why he had warned her. Out of a pouch at her hip, she fished out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones — Trixie’s noise-cancelling headphones, to be precise, which was why they were purple with silver stars on them; Tempest should be okay, provided Trixie didn’t find out that she’d borrowed them.

They were wireless, fortunately for her purposes, and Tempest had already connected them to her scroll, so it was just a matter of turning on her selected music, a death metal track that sounded like a demented cheetah screaming into a microphone at three hundred decibels while angry gorillas backed him up on guitar and drums, and giving Sonata a thumbs up.

Sonata gave a grin that was almost savage in anticipation. Tempest couldn't hear a single thing going on around her; a goliath could have snuck up behind her, and she wouldn’t have noticed until it picked her up in its truck, but she could see Sonata make a throat-clearing motion.

And then, Tempest guessed, she began to sing.

Tempest could hear none of it. She was glad that she could hear none of it, the memory of the way that Sonata’s singing with Phoebe had affected her was bad enough, and that, she thought, had turned out to be rather mild in the end. This was going to be Sonata singing her heart out, and that was not something…

No, that wasn’t true. Tempest did want to hear it. But she understood that just because she wanted to hear it didn’t mean that she should; she had a mission to complete for Doctor Watts; she couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk failing him, just to indulge herself.

When you allowed yourself to be surprised, when the unexpected happened, that was when you got hurt. And magic was something that would definitely surprise Tempest Shadow.

That was why she was curious about it.

Still, Tempest kept the headphones on, and as she kept the headphones on, she could not hear the song, not one word, not one single note.

But she could observe the effect that it was having on others though. People stopped what they were doing; whether they were coming into a store, leaving a shop, coming into or out of the metro station, buying a snack or a drink, they stopped all of it. They stopped, people barging into the people in front of them, the whole street staggering to a sort of ragged halt, everyone turning towards Sonata.

Tempest herself, though she couldn’t hear, she could feel … something. It wasn’t much, but it pricked at her, urging her to take off the headphones. She resisted, of course, but it pricked at her nonetheless, like needles being jabbed into her forehead.

Tempest frowned and concentrated on watching the people around her. They were not just stopped now; they certainly were not frozen, no; now, they were becoming angry. She could see them, the people who had been walked into rounding upon those who had walked into, voices moving quickly in what Tempest could only imagine to be angry words. Hands were clenched into fists.

And then someone pointed upwards towards the Atlesian cruiser in the skies, a sharp, angry jab with a finger. Faces turned upwards, faces set in scowls of snarls. Someone shook their fist to heavenward; another raised it and held it there, as if in defiance. More quick mouth movements, and Tempest could only imagine what curses were being hurled in the direction of the warship.

The gem around Sonata’s neck was glowing brightly now, much brighter than before; it looked more beautiful than any ruby ever had, as sharp as diamond and as red as blood. Sonata smiled coquettishly at Tempest as she stepped away, moving into the crowd, leaving Tempest as she darted into the press, the crush of people preventing Tempest from following. For a moment, Tempest’s eyes widened, darting back and forth, fearful that Sonata had attempted to escape already, but no; no, there she was. Tempest could see her now, weaving her way amongst the crowd. She was moving … Tempest couldn’t hear her, but she could see her swaying, moving, moving her arms; it was … it was not quite like anything she had seen before; it wasn’t dancing … except it clearly was … except it was like no dance that Tempest knew; it was … it was like some kind of aquatic creature, flowing in the water, tensionless … alluring.

Beautiful.

Tempest watched Sonata sway and flow amongst the ground, cupping one man’s face as though she might kiss him, tilting a woman’s chin up as though she might kiss her, touching those that she could reach before gesturing lithely upwards towards the Atlesian man-o'-war. She could not watch anything else. She was transfixed by her.

Her hands itched to tear off the headphones so that she could hear as well as see.

She might have done it too, her resistance crumbling, but then … then it was over. It seemed to be anyway; the crowd … the crowd did not settle, or at least if they settled, it was into quarrelling, a whole mass of people standing in the street growling at one another, snarling at one another, muttering angrily at one another, pointing in the faces of those around them. But Sonata seemed to have stopped singing; the brightness of the gem around her neck was faded a little as she slunk back to where Tempest was standing.

She beamed and held both thumbs up.

Tempest took off her headphones, reflexively folding them back up to put away. “That was … that was incredible,” she murmured, surveying all that Sonata had done, all of these people turned to wrath so swiftly.

“Aww, that’s nice of you to say, but that’s nothing really,” Sonata said, clasping her hands behind her. “And anyway, you didn’t even hear my song!”

“No,” Tempest said softly. “But I…” She hesitated. What had she been about to say, that she would? That she wanted to?

She did want to. And why not? Because Doctor Watts did not wish it so? He didn’t own her. Why should he forbid what she wanted?

Because she owed everything to him; where was this coming from?

How could she be affected when she hadn’t heard a thing?

“Maybe … maybe I will,” Tempest muttered.

“Really!” Sonata cried. “I would love that!” She grabbed Tempest’s arm and glomped onto it, clinging on like a barnacle to ship. “You and I are going to be besties, I can feel it!” She smiled. “So, where are we going to go next?”

Tempest looked around at Sonata’s handiwork, all the anger and the discontent, the glares shot upwards at the power of Atlas hanging over them. It was not much, compared to the size of Vale, a mere pebble tossed down a mountainside.

But it was a pebble that would start an avalanche.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is expanded with the presence of a scene between Cinder and Tempest, and altered as Tempest is far more on her guard around Sonata than she was in the original. On the other hand the scene with Ozpin and the Council has been removed.

Leaf (New)

Leaf

“You’re going down, Ruby!” Sunset shouted, with glee in her voice.

“You’re going … further down!” Ruby yelled to be heard over the noise of the revving engines. “So far down you can’t even see the floor!”

The two of them sat upon their borrowed motorcycles on the start line of the dirt course at the Blue Warthogs Motorcycle Club and Rally Course, which — although it stood in the middle of the city of Vale, behind the safety of the Red Line — nevertheless occupied a patch of greenery through which had been carved a dirt racing track which now lay before them. As a club, the Blue Warthogs competed in the city’s competitive rally circuit — not to any great success, but not to any immense shame either — but they also had days where they opened their track up to all comers, and this, it turns out, was such a day.

Sunset had been a little surprised when Ruby had suggested dirtbike racing as something they could do, but now, as she revved her bike and waited for the race to start, she was more than willing to admit that it had been a good idea.

Sunset had driven them both down there upon Sunset’s own bike, but Sunset doubted that her much-maligned machine would be judged eligible to compete, and so, she and Ruby had rented out a pair of dirt bikes from the club for the occasion. Sunset’s bike was an appropriate red and gold colour, painted as though it had been made for her, matching her hair which spilled out from beneath her helmet, with wings that were flamelike in shape and colour sticking out behind the seat.

Sunset … kind of wished that she could keep it, to be honest.

Keep the wings, anyway.

Ruby had been a little less fortunate in her bike, but she had still managed to find one that was a fitting blood red colour, the colour of the cloak that she had not been allowed to wear while racing. There were no roses anywhere to be found upon the motorcycle, but Sunset supposed you couldn’t have everything.

And besides, Ruby made up for it with the roses painted in black upon her red cycling helmet, joined by a pattern of thorns around the visor, which was up to reveal a little of Ruby’s pale face and silver eyes. In place of her cape and her usual outfit, Ruby was wearing a black padded jacket with red pads upon the shoulders and elbows, while her trousers, also black, had red stripes running down the sides; only her boots remained the same as usual.

Sunset herself hadn’t changed; she’d just done her jacket up and put an orange helmet on over her head, letting her flaming her spill out of it down her back. She had also exchanged her bridal gloves for a pair of padded gloves, through which she gripped the handlebars of her rented motorcycle while she waited for the race to start.

She and Ruby were not alone on the course; there were about a dozen racers in all, some of them club members and others, like Sunset and Ruby, come down for the day, all lined up on the starting line, all waiting.

Sunset wasn’t bothered about any of the rest of them. This race was between her and Ruby.

The dirtbikes revved, their engines growling so that they sounded as impatient for the off as Sunset felt.

A wire fence surrounded the track, and a few people had gathered at the fence to cheer on the racers.

“Come on, Leaf!” someone shouted. Sunset guessed that Leaf was also somewhere on the starting line.

It wasn’t hard to work out.

“Get ready!”

Sunset brought down the visor on her helmet; Ruby did the same, as did all those other competitors who had had theirs visors up until now.

A middle-aged man, his hair turning grey, stood just off the edge of the dirt track with a large red flag held in his hand. He raised the flag above his head so that it caught the wind, then brought it downwards in sharp motion.

Sunset let her bike off the leash, the vehicle leaping forwards as the race began. Her tires kicked up dirt on either side of her as the vehicle surged off the starting line, down into the depression, carved into the earth, which marked the first stage of the track.

She had been the first off, but not for long; Ruby had nearly matched her reflexes, and to her side, Sunset saw Ruby on her red dirtbike briefly pull ahead of her.

Not today, Ruby.

Yes, this was supposed to be fun, but it wouldn’t be fun if they didn’t take it seriously, so Sunset let the throttle out, accelerating to carry her past Ruby and back into first place.

Only to be confronted by a tight bend which was, no doubt, the reason why everyone behind was hanging back a little bit.

The rules of the race were very clear: fall, and you were done; leave the track, and you were done; get off your bike, and you were done.

Sunset swerved on the bend, wrenching at the handlebars to turn the motorcycle, her rear wheel spinning around, dirt fountaining up off the track to spray the grass verge and the wire fence and anyone unlucky enough to be standing beyond. The dirtbike slid as it rose up the dirt ledge towards the very edge of the race course. It wobbled; it swayed; Sunset felt herself falling sideways, the ground getting closer as she fought for balance in those fleeting moments.

And then the bike began to roar forwards once again, Sunset righting herself and the bike as she descended off the ledge and back down onto the main body of the dirt track.

A long straight lay before her, and Sunset had no need to decelerate.

The sound of an engine behind her caught her attention, a growling engine, a roaring engine, an engine catching up with her. Sunset didn’t dare risk losing her balance by looking back, but as the engine sound got closer and closer, Sunset risked a glance sideways. It wasn’t Ruby; this was someone else: a green motorcycle, the rider wearing a jacket of red gold like autumn leaves and a wood brown helmet. They were level with Sunset and very close. Their knees were almost touching as they drove hard down the straight, both of their bikes showering the other with dirt kicked up by the wheels.

The rider on the green bike swerved towards Sunset, forcing Sunset to swerve to the left to avoid a collision.

What the—?

The rider in red-gold swerved again, again forcing Sunset more to the left.

Are you trying to run me off the track? There was nothing in the rules against that, but it wasn’t very sporting if you asked Sunset.

She was tempted to let the other rider, whoever they were, run into her and see what happened; they would both crash, and both be out of the race, but with her aura, Sunset was almost certain that she’d be in a better state when the dust settled than whoever this clown was.

But ultimately, that was the reason why she had to keep swerving, because she’d be in a better state after any accident.

The track split in two up ahead, a path to the left and a path to the right, with a barrier of piled up tires marking the point at which the two separated.

Sunset was aiming straight for the tires; if she kept on going straight, then she would hit them and be out of the race; the rider on the green bike was keeping pace with her. If they kept going straight, then they’d hit the tires too, but there was no one on their right stopping from swerving in that direction.

Sunset understood: she didn’t want to run Sunset off the course; she wanted to keep Sunset from going to the right and force her to the left. The course to the right rose a little; it was hard to say for sure from here, but Sunset suspected that to the right, there was a jump, while to the left there was a depression. By going right but making Sunset go left, the rider in red-gold would pull ahead.

Or I could just wait until you break right and do the same.

But the other rider didn’t break right. They kept on going straight ahead, aiming straight for the tires, cutting Sunset off. Sunset accelerated, but so did they, keeping pace with Sunset, keeping her blocked off.

The game was chicken. One of them would have to break one way or the other, or they would both hit the wall of tires and be disqualified.

They both went straight.

The tires got closer.

They both went straight.

The tires got closer and closer and closer…

Sunset let out a wordless growl of frustration as she broke left, turning away from the tires and her red-gold opponent both alike. The rider on the green bike broke to the right.

Sunset descended into a depression, just as she’d thought, the course descending into an even steeper cut down into the ground which rose up on either side of her. Above, she could see the rider on the green motorcycle flying through the air as they made the jump, with Ruby following close behind.

It’s a pity you couldn’t wear your cape; it would look awesome flying out behind you right now.

But I should probably focus on myself.

There were logs down in the bottom of the depression, half-buried in the earth, because missing the jump wasn’t punishment enough for any fool who went left, but Sunset accelerated anyway, taking the bike as fast as it would go, ignoring the pain on her rear as it bounced up and down upon the motorcycle seat.

Like a bat out of Tartarus — or at least, like a motorcycle on a rock album cover — Sunset came roaring out of the ditch, and if she didn’t get to a make a jump, she still cleared the deck by a few feet before landing on the ground again to start pursuing Ruby and the rider in red-gold.

They were both ahead of her now; Ruby was in second place, with the green motorcycle in pole position, swerving left and right to keep Ruby cut off and maintain her lead. Ruby dropped back, trying to get more space to overtake where the other rider couldn’t so easily cut her off.

A mistake, with Sunset closing in on both of them.

Ruby dropped back, and Sunset caught up just as they came up on another bend, turning to pass beneath the tangled branches of some trees on either side of the track. Sunset braked a little, to avoid the problem that she’d had the last turn, but by this point, she was pretty much level with Ruby, only narrowly in third place, and she could afford to slow down just a little.

Especially since she had the inside of the turn.

A little throttle, and she was in second place, taking one hand off the bars to wave to Ruby as she passed her on the inside.

Ruby was behind, the red-gold rider in front. They put on speed in the straight, and Sunset did likewise. She did not catch up, but nor did any extra distance open up between them.

The rider on the green motorcycle pulled directly in front of Sunset; Sunset drifted to the left and so did they; Sunset drifted to the right and so did they.

There was another ramp up ahead. Inside her helmet, unseen, Sunset grinned.

The red gold rider made the jump, soaring up into the air, at which point, Sunset swerved inwards, towards the inside edge of the track, and took the jump herself.

She felt her hair stream out behind her, and no doubt, her tail would have done so too if Sunset hadn’t stuffed it into her pants — she didn’t want to worry about it getting caught in the wheel — as she took flight, wishing that she hadn’t had the visor down so that he could have felt the wind on her face.

Of course, she would have felt the dirt on her face the rest of the time, but still.

There was another turn just past the jump, or rather, just past the point at which most riders going a decent speed would land from the jump, and the rider in red-gold was already turning in the air, twisting round so that they would land ready to make the turn.

But they miscalculated and landed badly, the wheels slipping out from underneath the motorcycle as the rider hit the ground, skidding across the earth like a stone over water, coming to rest right in Sunset’s path.

There was no doubt about it in Sunset’s mind: if she landed, she was going to hit that other rider, whoever they were. There was no way she could avoid it.

She teleported, carrying her motorcycle with her in a flash of green light, reappearing with a crack on the other side of the fence, turning sideways to skid across the grass, tearing it up, churning the soil beneath as she slewed to a stop.

Sunset teleported again, reappearing on the track, standing over the fallen ridden and their motorcycle, kneeling down to grab them both.

A third teleportation brought all three of them beyond the track, safe from harm, as Ruby made the jump, turning with expert skill and roaring off down the track.

Sunset whooped. “Go on, Ruby!” she yelled, rushing to the fence, following the fire and the edge of the track, trying to keep Ruby in sight as she raced ahead of the rest of the pack, handling her motorcycle like a pro, mastering every twist and turn before crossing the finish line well ahead of anyone else.

As Ruby came to a halt, Sunset rushed up to her.

“Congratulations, Ruby!” she cried. “You were amazing out there.”

Ruby was beaming brightly as she pulled off her helmet. “Thanks,” she said. “You were good too; what happened out there? I saw you teleport, but—”

“The rider ahead went down; I would have hit them if I hadn’t done something,” Sunset explained. “I got myself out, and then I got them out.”

Ruby winced. “It’s great that no one got hurt,” she said, “but it’s pretty unlucky, though.”

“It is what it is,” Sunset said. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, congrats,” came a voice, a girl’s voice, but on the deeper side.

Sunset turned around to see the rider in the red-gold jacket, now with her helmet off to reveal a faunus girl with squirrel ears — hitherto hidden beneath her helmet — sticking up from out of her brown hair, which was worn in a pixie cut and dyed luminescent blue at the tips. She had a couple of piercings in her nose and more in her ears, both human and squirrel.

“You were both really good out there,” she said. “And I’m not just saying that because you didn’t hit me. You do this a lot?”

“Not really,” Ruby replied.

“Maybe you should start,” she said. She thrust out one hand. “I’m Leaf, by the way, Leaf Kelly.”

“I’m Ruby Rose.”

“Sunset Shimmer.”

Leaf shook both their hands in turn. “Nice to meet you. Like I said, congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said.

“You weren’t bad yourself,” Sunset said.

“Not bad? I’m good,” Leaf declared. “I’m more than good; I can be great sometimes; I just got unlucky.” She paused. “You said you don’t do this very often, but I can’t believe that this is your first time on motorcycles.”

“My sister taught me,” Ruby explained.

“I taught myself,” Sunset said. “I haven’t had the opportunity to ride much recently, but I’ve got my own bike out in the yard.”

Leaf smiled. “Then why didn’t you ride that in the race?”

“I wasn’t sure it would be allowed; it’s not exactly the same kind of model as these dirtbikes.”

“Some kind of road model?” Leaf asked.

“It’s … something of a hybrid,” Sunset replied.

“She built it herself,” Ruby interjected.

“And I’m not ashamed of that!” Sunset declared. “It wasn’t as though I had a lot of choice in my circumstances.”

“That sounds pretty cool,” Leaf said. “So you’re a mechanic, as well as a rider?”

“Of necessity, to an extent,” Sunset explained. She pointed to Ruby. “This one is the real gearhead.”

Ruby nodded. “I used to help my sister take care of her bike,” she said, “and, well … it’s nice to get your hands dirty sometimes. Nuts, bolts, wrenches … they’re easy to understand. Easier than people.”

“I hear that,” Leaf agreed. “Bikes are definitely easier than people.” She looked away from them, towards a woman on whose face the cares of the world seemed to sit almost as heavily as they did on Lady Nikos, although more in the hollowed out face and sunken cheeks than in her hair; that was yet untouched by grey. She was watching Leaf, albeit she seemed to be trying to pretend that she wasn’t watching. She looked back at Sunset and Ruby, folding her arms across her chest. “So, can I see this hybrid of yours?”

Ruby gave a little smile, and the slightest giggle passed her lips.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “And what are you sniggering at, Ruby Rose? Of course you can see my bike; I drove it here; like I said, it’s just outside.”

Sunset led the way, with Leaf and Ruby following behind her, passing through the club room — a dark space, with wooden walls and a bar set up against the back room — outside to where the cars and bikes that people had used to get here were all parked. Sunset’s bike was parked near the front, in all of its mismatched glory.

“Here she is,” Sunset proclaimed, gesturing to her bike with one hand.

Leaf blinked. “Wow,” she said.

“I know, right,” Ruby agreed.

“That is—”

“A beauty, isn’t she?”

Leaf laughed. “That is the ugliest piece of engineering I have ever seen.”

Sunset’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. “That,” she began. “That is…” She huffed. “Everyone’s a critic. She may not look the prettiest, but she gets the job done.”

“I mean, credit where credit's due, you put this together yourself, and it looks like you got everything to fit together in such a way that it works,” Leaf said as she walked closer to Sunset’s bike, circling it to get a look at it in the round. “Which, you know, impressive. Especially considering that there are, like, parts from twenty different models and manufacturers in here. Why didn’t you use more consistent parts?”

“My circumstances didn’t exactly allow for a lot of choice,” Sunset muttered.

Leaf looked up into Sunset’s eyes. “This is junkyard salvage, isn’t it?”

Sunset didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” Leaf trailed off. “I know what it’s like to not be able to have everything that you want. At least, I used to, my stepdad…” She hesitated. “Anyway, that was a cool move you pulled, getting yourself off the track and then me; I’ve never seen anything quite like it. What was that?”

Sunset glanced at Ruby. “That … was my semblance.”

Leaf’s green eyes widened. “Your…” She looked from Sunset to Ruby and then back again. “Are you huntresses?”

“Sort of,” Ruby replied. “We’re students up at Beacon Academy.”

Leaf gasped. She clasped her hands together above her chest. “Oh, wow!” she cried. “Oh … oh, wow! This is … wow. This is incredible! This is … sorry, I’m babbling aren’t I? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say, should I go?” She came to a sort-of attention, and gave a sort-of salute, and her voice dropped a little in an impression of a manly, martial voice as she said, “Thank you for all your service.”

Ruby grinned. “You’d only need to say that if we were all Atlesian. Or Atlas students.”

“Really, I should start practicing then,” Leaf replied. “But what do I say to you two?”

“You’ve already been doing it,” Ruby assured her. “You don’t need to stand on ceremony with us.”

“Really?” Leaf asked. “But you’re huntresses!”

“We’re students,” Sunset reminded her.

“Even so, that’s…” Leaf paused. “What are two huntresses, or students, whatever, doing at the Blue Warthogs?”

“Having fun?” Ruby asked. “We wanted to do something cool, and Sunset has a bike, and Yang — that’s my sister — taught me how to ride, so … why not?”

“If you say so,” Leaf said softly. She pulled a pack of cigarettes, only slightly squashed, out of her pocket. She offered it to Sunset. “You want one?”

Sunset shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Ruby?”

“She won’t have one either,” Sunset said, before Ruby could.

Leaf smirked. “Are you her mom or something?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” Ruby said. “I’m only fifteen.”

“'Fifteen'? I was smoking twenty of these a day when I was fourteen,” Leaf muttered. “I started when I was twelve. Go on, try one; you might like it.”

“No,” Sunset said firmly.

Leaf seemed like a decent person, a good sport — and a good sportswoman, who knew how to handle a bike — but smoking, in Sunset’s opinion, was a habit for plebs and losers. It was, to Sunset’s mind, what you turned to when you’d given up; you couldn’t accomplish anything meaningful, you couldn’t matter, you couldn’t be anybody worthwhile so you stuck something in your mouth and set fire to it and let the drugs make you feel like you were winning — until you came back down to the reality that you weren’t.

Sunset had been tempted, back at Canterlot, sometimes. It would have been easier.

It would have been an admission of failure.

She had no intention of letting Ruby go down that road; especially since she had no need — absolutely no need — to do so.

“Okay, okay,” Leaf conceded. She pulled a single cigarette out of her packet, and stuck it in her mouth, holding it there with her teeth while she pulled a lighter out of her other pocket and lit the cigarette up. Smoke rose lazily from the burning tip of the cigarette before Leaf gripped it with her fingers, blowing a wave of smoke out of her mouth.

Sunset kind of wished that she was a pegasus, so that she could have conjured a gentle breeze to blow the smoke away from her and Ruby.

“I suppose you have to be good girls up at Beacon, huh?” Leaf asked.

“Not necessarily good girls,” Sunset murmured. “But we do have to keep our bodies in good condition.”

Leaf gave a sort of nodding, head tilting gesture. To Ruby, she said, “So, you’re only fifteen?”

Ruby nodded. “That’s right.”

Leaf frowned. “I thought Beacon only started at seventeen.”

“It does,” Ruby replied. “I … got let in early.”

“Really?” Leaf asked. “How did you manage that?”

“I … stopped a couple of bad guys from robbing a dust store,” Ruby said, sounding almost as if she were admitting to doing something wrong. “Me and Sunset did, that’s how we met. Professor Ozpin — he’s the—”

“Headmaster up at Beacon, yeah, I know; I don’t live under a rock,” Leaf said.

“He showed up afterwards and offered me a shot at his school,” Ruby explained.

“Cool,” Leaf said, smiling. “So, are you both fifteen?”

“I’m eighteen; I was already on my way to Beacon when I met Ruby and got involved in this robbery she mentioned,” Sunset told her.

“Right,” Leaf said. “So are you two on the same team together, or are you just friends?”

“We’re teammates,” Sunset explained. “Team Sapphire.”

Leaf’s eyes narrowed. “S something-something R?”

“S-A-P-R,” Sunset replied.

“I’ll remember that, and I’ll cheer for you when the Vytal Festival starts,” Leaf said softly.

“Thanks,” Ruby said.

Sunset snorted. “You say you haven’t been living under a rock, but you haven’t heard of Team Sapphire already?”

Leaf’s eyebrows rose. “Ought I have heard of you?”

Ruby glanced at Sunset, clasping her hands together in front. “Well, we … we have done some stuff.”

“We helped foil a massive dust robbery at the docks a few months ago?” Sunset suggested. “We helped catch Roman Torchwick?”

“And we fought at the Breach,” Ruby added. “Well, I didn’t, but Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha did — they’re our other teammates.”

Leaf stared at them, her gaze flickering between the two of them. “Okay, I don’t really pay much attention to the news, although I might have to start.” She took a drag on her cigarette. “I thought students at Beacon were supposed to learn how to be huntresses, not to … be actual huntresses.”

“I can see why you might think that,” Sunset said.

“We didn’t always have permission for all the stuff we did,” Ruby admitted.

“We did for most of the big stuff,” Sunset insisted. “And for the stuff that didn’t, most of the time, that was trouble finding us, not the other way around. We’ve gotten to skip ahead a little on account of our skills, which are in more than just motorcycle riding.”

Leaf nodded. She took another drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke between Ruby and Sunset, before she said, “Was it hard to get into Beacon? I suppose I’m asking Sunset more than Ruby, considering that … foiling a robbery might not have been hard, but finding one probably was.”

Ruby chuckled. “I did get … lucky, I guess. You might not think so at the time, but if I hadn’t gotten caught in that robbery, then I never would have gotten into Beacon, so … yeah, I got lucky.”

Leaf sighed. “I wanted to go to Beacon,” she admitted. “I wanted to go to combat school, but my mom wouldn’t let me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” cried the woman that Sunset had seen earlier, the one with the hollow cheeks and the face that looked like it had been worn down by the world. Her hair was black and free from greys, worn in a bowl cut around her face; she was dressed in a grey jumper that was a little too big at the sleeves and black pants splattered with paint of various colours.

She stormed out of the club to join the three kids, followed slightly after by a man, bald and dark-skinned, and two children of his complexion, a girl about Leaf’s age and a younger boy, at least a year younger than Ruby, maybe more.

The worn-out looking woman snatched the cigarette from Leaf’s mouth and threw it to the ground, stamping on it with one booted foot.

“I’ve told you not to smoke; it’s disgusting,” she snapped. “And of course I didn’t let you go to combat school, or to Beacon; it’s dangerous! You could die! People die; someone died, didn’t they, a boy, at the Breach?”

“Yes,” Sunset murmured, looking down at her booted feet as she felt an icy fist grip her stomach. “Sky Lark. His name was Sky Lark.”

“Yes, it is dangerous,” Ruby agreed. “But … but it’s a worthy cause; it’s the worthiest cause—”

“I don’t care how worthy it is, and I don’t need you to encourage this!” Leaf’s mother snarled, rounding on Ruby, pointing her finger in Ruby’s face. “I didn’t ask you what you thought; I don’t even know who you are!”

“Now, hang on a second, ma’am,” Sunset said, stepping between Ruby and Leaf’s mother, putting her arm out to shield Ruby from the woman’s anger. “Ruby didn’t really say anything—”

“I don’t need anyone encouraging these stupid ideas!”

“They’re not encouraging anything,” Leaf said. “We were just talking.”

“Just talking,” Leaf’s mother said. “Just talking about Beacon, about things that we have already decided—”

“We didn’t decide anything; you decided—”

“I am your mother—”

“And I’m a person; I’m eighteen years old; when do I get to start having my own life?”

“When you can be trusted to do something sensible with it,” Leaf’s mother cried. She glared at Sunset and Ruby. “I think you should go.”

Sunset looked around theatrically. “We haven’t done anything!”

“Ash,” the man said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Ash, calm down. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s not their fault. They were just talking, right?”

Sunset folded her arms. “We weren’t trying to inveigle Leaf into Beacon, if that’s what you mean,” she said, a touch of sourness in her voice. “It’s not for us to say who gets in, or who tries to.”

“It’s Leaf’s—” Ruby began, before Sunset shushed her. Leaf’s mother — Ash — was clearly not in the mood to hear about Leaf’s choices right now.

The man looked at Leaf, “Leaf, maybe you should—”

“You’re not my dad,” Leaf snapped.

“Leaf!” Ash cried.

Leaf sighed and turned away, stomping off, her boots thumping into the pavement.

An awkward silence descended.

“I think we should go,” Sunset murmured, placing a hand on Ruby’s shoulder and starting to steer her towards Sunset’s bike.

“I … yeah,” Ruby said softly. “Yeah we probably should.”

Sunset didn’t particularly feel like remaining in the circumstances, nor was she certain that they would be welcome. However, when they returned to the bike, she didn’t start it off, but began to walk it out of the carpark and down the side of the street, pushing it down the road while she walked beside it.

“Um, Sunset?” Ruby asked. “You know that bike has a motor, right?”

Sunset chuckled. “Yes, Ruby, I know that the motorbike has a motor.”

“Then why?” Ruby began.

“Because I don’t want to go straight back to Beacon yet; it’s too early,” Sunset said. “But I haven’t figured out where I want to go just yet, so I’m walking the bike to give me extra time to think it over.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, walking on the other side of Sunset’s bike. “Well, we could … we could go get something to eat?”

Sunset looked at her. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Where?”

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured. “How about—?”

“Hey!” Leaf cried, running after them down the road. “Hey!” she shouted again, catching up quickly, for all that it left her out of breath and doubled over, hands on her knees. She gulped in air, her chest rising and falling. “Hey,” she said, for a third time. “You’re leaving so soon. I was hoping to get another match in.”

“I wasn’t sure that we’d be welcomed,” Sunset said.

“My mum doesn’t own the club, and neither does my stepdad,” Leaf insisted. “Come on, you have to let me earn my pride back.”

Sunset looked at Ruby. “What do you think?”

“It is kind of soon to be leaving,” Ruby said. “And I didn’t really want to.”

“And you’re sure—“

“It’s not a problem,” Leaf said. “I swear.”

So they went back and actually raced two more times, enough for both Sunset and Leaf to take a win, at which point, they decided that it was probably best to leave it there with the honours even between them.

“Thanks for coming back,” Leaf said. “I’m glad I got the chance to beat you both once, even if I had to lose to you twice combined.” She paused. “And I’m sorry about my mum. She can be…”

“Difficult?” Sunset suggested.

“Awful,” Leaf said.

“That’s harsh,” Sunset said.

Leaf boggled at her a little. “You were there in the car park, right? You heard how she acted?”

“She’s concerned about you,” Sunset said mildly.

“And so that gives her the right to decide what I can and can’t do, to control me?” Leaf demanded.

Yes, was the blunt answer, but Sunset guessed it would also be the unwelcome one, so she simply said, “It’s not my place to say.”

“You were right,” Ruby said. “It’s your life; it should be up to you what you do with it.”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Leaf said. “There, you see? Ruby gets it. How did your mum feel about you going to Beacon at just fifteen.”

Ruby glanced away. “My mom … my mom is…”

“Oh,” Leaf murmured. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry,” she reached out and put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said. “You didn’t know; you didn’t mean anything by it. I know that you wouldn’t mean anything by it; I mean, your dad—”

“My dad isn’t dead,” Leaf said. “He might as well be, but he isn’t. Mum just left him for ‘Daniel.’ Anyway, I’m sorry, but thank you, for being on my side, for getting it. Does someone try and tell you what to do? Your sister?”

“No,” Ruby said, “Sunset does.”

Sunset let out a spluttering sound. “That is … why would you—?”

Leaf folded her arms. “Ah, okay, that explains everything.”

“What does that mean?”

“The way that you act, the way that you make excuses for mum,” Leaf said.

“I do not … the fact of the matter is that, sometimes, other people know best,” Sunset insisted. “And it’s childish to pretend otherwise.”

“We should still be allowed to make our own choices, even if they are mistakes,” Leaf insisted. “Maybe I would have died if I’d gone to Beacon, but like Ruby said, at least I’d be dying for something. I wouldn’t be stuck here with nothing but riding a bike as the highlight of my life.”

Ruby took one of Leaf’s hands in her own. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Ruby,” Sunset murmured, worried they were coming dangerously close to what Ash had wrongly accused them earlier, encouraging Leaf’s rebellion.

“Can you keep a secret?” Leaf asked. She looked at Sunset. “Can you?”

I should hope so; I’m keeping enough already. “Yes,” Sunset murmured

“You can trust us,” Ruby added.

Leaf nodded, yet still took a moment before she spoke again. “I’m leaving,” she said. “I’m going to Atlas. I’ve… Well, Daniel isn’t going to miss that lien anyway; he won’t even notice it’s missing. Anyway, I’ve got my airship ticket, I’ve got a place lined up to doss for a couple of days—”

“And then what?” Sunset demanded. “What happens when your stolen money runs out?”

“I’ll have found a job by then,” Leaf said, with what seemed to Sunset to be rather undue blitheness.

Sunset folded her arms. “Take it from me: being down and out in Atlas with no funds and nowhere to go is no fun at all. Do you at least have a friend in Atlas?”

“I told you, I’m going to get a job,” Leaf insisted. “There’s always work in Atlas; everyone knows that.”

Maybe Everyone doesn’t know as much as they think they do. “That,” Sunset said, “is rather optimistic of you.”

Leaf shrugged. “That’s my choice,” she said. “It’s my choice to do this, and it’s my choice to hope for the best, even if they both turn out to be mistakes.”

“We need to tell her mother,” Sunset declared.

Sunset and Ruby were in A & P, sitting downstairs, near the back of the lower room; they were the only people in there, and since they were downstairs, there wasn’t even the new girl behind the counter able to hear what they were talking about.

Ruby sighed. “We can’t tell her mom, Sunset.”

“Why not?” Sunset demanded.

“Because we promised we wouldn’t!”

Sunset folded her arms. “So, if Leaf had confessed to us that she was going to buy some dust and blow up a shopping mall, should we keep quiet about that, too, just because we promised?”

“Come on, Sunset, that’s a ridiculous comparison!” Ruby cried.

“Why?” Sunset asked. “What’s the difference?”

“Because in only one of those examples would Leaf be killing someone!”

“It’ll kill her mother when she disappears without a word,” Sunset muttered.

“Not literally,” Ruby pointed out.

“Okay, no, but why does physical harm excuse breaking a confidence but emotional harm doesn’t?”

“Because physically hurting people is … it’s physical, it hurts people,” Ruby insisted. “Can you really not see a difference?”

“I don’t see why we have an obligation to sit here and watch someone make a terrible mistake just because we pinkie swore,” Sunset said firmly. “Especially since we didn’t even pinkie swear; we just promised. I mean … do you really not see anything wrong with this? At all?”

Ruby dug her spoon into her chocolate cookie sundae, pulling it out covered in ice cream and fragments of chocolate cookie. She stuck spoon and sundae both into her mouth and masticated the ice cream for a few seconds before swallowing. “It’s like Leaf said, people have the right to make their own choices, even if they make mistakes.”

See if you say that when you find out about some of the choices I’ve made lately. “You sound like Princess Celestia,” Sunset muttered, rubbing the gap between her eyebrows with her fingers. “Which, unfortunately, means you might have a point.”

“'Unfortunately'?” Ruby asked.

Sunset chuckled. “She and I … discussed this, more than once. I used to think … I suppose since we’re now having this discussion, I still do think, at least in part, that … the world would be better off if someone set stricter limits upon the decisions that people could and couldn’t make, if the metaphorical parent stepped in more and closed in the walls of the playpen a little bit. I never saw the point in letting the children scrape their knees. I didn’t see why someone so wise, who had seen so much, experienced so much, couldn’t just … sort it out, you know?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “And what did Princess Celestia say to that?”

“That it would make her a tyrant,” Sunset admitted. “That freedom was more important than perfection or the mitigation of all harms. I … didn’t get it.”

“Sounds like you still don’t,” Ruby pointed out.

“I … as huntresses, aren’t we supposed to save people?”

“Not from themselves,” Ruby replied.

“What about from the consequences of their actions?” Sunset asked.

“Not from those either,” Ruby said.

“Even if those consequences … what if she joins the White Fang because she ended up having such a bad time in Atlas?” Sunset suggested.

“That’s a little bit ludicrous, don’t you think?”

“Where do you think the White Fang comes from?” Sunset replied.

“What if she joins the White Fang because it’s the only way she can get away from her mother?” Ruby countered.

“That’s not—”

“It’s just as likely!”

“Her mother is not the problem,” Sunset insisted.

“Leaf thinks her mom is the problem.”

“That’s because she’s a spoiled little madam with no idea of what she’s doing who doesn’t appreciate everything that her mother does for her and is about to jump into a situation she can’t possibly comprehend!” Sunset snapped.

Ruby was silent for a moment. “Who are we talking about now?”

Sunset sighed. “Yeah, okay. I admit, but … it isn’t the mother’s fault; it’s often the daughter’s.”

“'Often,'” Ruby said. “Not always.”

Sunset picked up her spoon and played with her strawberry sundae without actually eating any of it. She picked up a strawberry slice on her spoon and then let it drop back down into the sundae again.

She closed her eyes. “When … when you woke up,” she said. “I … I promised that I would … listen to you more. That I would take what you had to say, your views, seriously. And so … as much as I disagree, if you think that we should let Leaf go through with this, then … then that is what we’ll do because … because I respect you and because freedom is the right of all … sentient morons.”

Ruby snorted. “Sunset!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Sunset murmured. She finally dug some of her sundae out upon her spoon and popped it into her mouth. It was cold upon her teeth. She swallowed. “So we’re going to keep silent?”

Ruby was quiet for a moment. “If … if this is what Leaf wants … even if it will hurt her mother, and even if it’s kind of a stupid plan—”

“It doesn’t even rise to the level of a plan,” Sunset said. “It’s barely an aim.”

“Then I think that we have to respect that, no matter how bad of an idea it is, because … because choices matter.”

Yes, they certainly do, don’t they? “Fine,” Sunset said. “Best of luck to Leaf, then.” She paused for a moment. Maybe I’ll give Rainbow Dash a call, check in with her that Leaf doesn’t end up homeless on the streets of Mantle.

“So … how did your meeting with Professor Ozpin go?”

“That’s a change in subject.”

“I think we’ve reached the end of the previous subject, don’t you?”

Ruby chuckled. “It … it was fine,” she said. “It was really good.”

Sunset smiled. “I’m glad,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me—”

“Mom came from outside the kingdoms,” Ruby announced.

Sunset laughed. “But you can if you want to.”

Ruby nodded eagerly. Sunset ate her sundae while Ruby kept talking, keeping her eyes fixed on Ruby as she scooped up spoonfuls of ice cream and strawberries and, upon instinct, moved them into her mouth.

“Mom came from the west of Sanus,” Ruby continued, “from out beyond the mountains, you know, the place the Great War was fought over? Apparently, there were people living there before Mistral or Vale tried to colonise it—”

“Which time?” Sunset asked, after swallowing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Vale tried to colonise beyond the mountains at least three times that I can think of,” Sunset explained. “One of them is in The Song of Olivia; that’s why they went beyond the mountains, and they were on their way back when the rearguard was attacked. Also an example of choices,” Sunset added. “Olivia chose to do the proud thing and not call for help, and that choice got everyone else killed in spite of what they might or might not have chosen.”

“I never said she was perfect,” Ruby said defensively. “But … what are you saying?”

“I’m not sure,” Sunset admitted. “I suppose I was just asking for clarification.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really, sorry,” Sunset said. “I can’t help it; it’s my nerd-brain at work. Again, I apologise; you were saying?”

“Yeah, right, so there were people living there … certainly before the Great War and when the two kingdoms tried to colonise beyond the mountains; maybe they’d always been there, I don’t know, but the point is that there were people there before, and there are people living there now still, and my mom was one of them.”

“Do they still have contact with Vale?”

“Not much,” Ruby said. “Professor Ozpin said that only a few traders go beyond the mountains to deal with them, and it doesn’t sound like they have much worth trading for, mostly … old stuff, or stuff that seems old, even if it isn’t. Honestly, from what Professor Ozpin said, without him, there might not be any missions over the mountains.”

Sunset frowned. “What does Professor Ozpin have to do with it?”

“He gets people to go so that they can spread the word about Beacon and get awesome fighters like my mom to come to school.”

“That … okay, yeah, that makes sense,” Sunset agreed. “Although, I’m not entirely sure why he bothers; was he hoping to find someone with silver eyes?”

“No, just strong people,” Ruby said. “Warriors, raised in a hard land.”

“If that’s what he wants, why doesn’t he look for some Vacuans? They’ll go on about how a hard land has made them strong,” Sunset muttered. “If that’s true, then why is Pyrrha, raised in civilisation and privilege as she was, tougher than any of them? Physically, anyway.”

“That’s a good point,” Ruby conceded. “But my mom was really strong. It’s a pity that her diary didn’t talk more about exactly where she came from. It doesn’t say anything really about where she came from; I had to find out from Professor Ozpin.”

“He couldn’t tell you more?”

“Mom couldn’t tell him more,” Ruby replied. “I mean … she couldn’t tell him where she came from because she couldn’t find it on a map, and it seems like she didn’t want to talk about her family much. I think she fell out with her dad about coming to Beacon. I suppose you think she should—”

“I do not necessarily think that she should have stayed at home and done as her father said; I don’t know enough of the details to say for sure who was right,” Sunset said. “I just think that more people might want to consider that possibly their mom isn’t the problem, they are. You could try talking to your father; maybe she told him some things.”

“That she didn’t tell Professor Ozpin?”

“She might have told her lover things that she didn’t want to tell her teacher.”

“Maybe,” Ruby murmured. “Doesn’t mean … I’m not sure how I could talk about this to Dad. Does he know that I know? Does he know that Professor Ozpin is going to tell me this stuff, or was?”

“When did you last speak to him?” Sunset asked.

“A while ago,” Ruby admitted. “I … I don’t know how. I don’t know how to … he knew so much, all this time, about Mom, and about my eyes, about Salem; he knew everything, and he didn’t tell me or Yang anything! How could he do something like that?”

It might have been inappropriate in the moment, but the corner of Sunset’s lip twitched upwards in a smile. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“You’re going to tell me that he had his reasons, aren’t you?”

“I’m sure that he thinks so,” Sunset said.

“He doesn’t get to control what I do and don’t know and make my choices for me just because he’s my father or because he thinks that he knows best, no matter why he’s doing it,” Ruby insisted. “Because when he chooses to do that, he’s cramping my style.”

Sunset smiled. “Good point,” she murmured. “So you haven’t spoken to him because you’re worried that you’ll get mad at him?”

“Partly that,” Ruby said. “And partly because I … I’m worried about what he’ll say when I ask him about it.”

“And you’ll stay worried right until you actually have the conversation, at which point … you may find out that it wasn’t as bad as you thought that it could be.”

“Maybe,” Ruby murmured. “I mean, yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sure you’re right. I should talk to him. I will … sometime. Soon, but not right now.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “Not right now. Did you get anything else from Professor Ozpin?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “He told me … he told me that my mom killed someone, on her first night in Vale.”

Sunset frowned, crinkling her brow; her tail stopped twitching. She put her ice cream back on the table, slipping her hands between her knees and closing said knees upon her hands. She licked her lips. “I’m sure that she had a good reason for it.”

“The person she killed was trying to mug her.”

“That sounds like a very good reason,” Sunset said.

“I know,” Ruby murmured. “But…”

“You know that ‘heroes don’t kill’ is just…” Sunset began. “Jaune killed someone, and it doesn’t make him a bad person for it, and I know that you’d never suggest otherwise.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t say anything like that to Jaune, but…” Ruby trailed off for a moment. “Mom was … at least I thought she was…”

Sunset leaned forwards. “What, precisely, is it that you thought she was that she has been proved not to be by defending herself on her first night in a strange place, a new city?”

Ruby took a moment to answer. “She wore a white cloak.”

Sunset cocked her head to one side. “Your mother?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Like mine, but … well, but it was white, instead of red. In my dreams, in my … I don’t know if they’re memories or not, but in my mind … whenever I see her, she’s wearing that white cloak. And it’s spotless.”

“I do not know that this proves it was not,” Sunset said softly.

“Even with blood on it?”

“Not put there by her own choice,” Sunset reminded her. She reached out and put her hands on Ruby’s shoulders. “Should she have bared her throat for the knife rather than get her hands dirty? Is that the action of the morally pure? None of what you’ve told me makes Summer Rose any the less brave or kind or noble. In fact … I would say it makes moreso.”

“More?” Ruby asked. “How?”

Sunset snorted. “If I’d been mugged my first night in Canterlot, you wouldn’t see me risking my tail to protect anyone.”

Ruby smiled. “Yeah, you would.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really? What makes you so sure?”

“You need the recognition,” Ruby pronounced.

“Nothing about my virtues then?” Sunset demanded. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?” She chuckled. “My point is, even after the first thing that happened to Summer Rose when she got to Vale was that someone tried to part her from her worldly possessions, even after that fine welcome to the big city, she was still determined to become a huntress and protect the world, even after that taste of the world’s sourness. That … that is something to be admired, to my mind, more than to be censured. Although I am curious as to how, having arrived in Vale from the middle of nowhere, she made it into Beacon.”

“Professor Ozpin was called down to the police station to talk to her, just like he did me,” Ruby announced. “And just like me, he offered her a spot.”

Sunset nodded. “So you could say that, without that mugger that she killed, you wouldn’t be here?”

Ruby shrugged. Again, she paused for a little bit. “I asked Professor Ozpin,” she said, speaking quietly. “I asked him what the difference between me and my mom was, that he made Mom the team leader and … and not me.”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to take pause for a while; there was an obvious question to ask in response to this, but she was not sure if she wanted to ask it.

So instead she asked, “I didn’t realise you were jealous.”

“I’m not!” Ruby insisted. “I’m really not. Not really. I don’t wish that I was the team leader, and I don’t think that I should be the team leader, but I do sometimes … I mean, I do wonder what Mom had that I don’t, that Professor Ozpin picked her and … and not me.”

“Before you pine away too much over what might have been,” Sunset drawled, “have you considered what a nightmare it would have been for you, having me as one of your teammates?” She grinned. “Have you considered how absolutely obnoxious I would have been to you if you had been my team leader?”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would,” Sunset assured her. “Entitled, arrogant, I would have loathed getting passed over, especially for someone younger than me. I would have been filled with resentment; I would have made your life an absolute misery.” She paused. “You know, saying all that, it’s a miracle that Professor Ozpin thought I was leadership material, isn’t it?”

“I think Professor Ozpin wanted to give me a break,” Ruby replied. “He told me that Mom wore herself out trying to catch up on everything she hadn’t learned in Combat School, and leadership classes, and training her silver eyes. That’s why he never offered to train my silver eyes; he thought that I was busy enough, and he didn’t want to work me too hard. But … but more than that … he told me that he regretted making my Mom the team leader. I think that’s why he chose you over me, because looking back—”

“He wishes he’d made Raven the team leader instead,” Sunset muttered.

“How did you—?”

“Professor Ozpin has made the comparison to me directly,” Sunset explained. “I can’t say that I was flattered by it, all things considered.”

“He means it like … like a protector,” Ruby said.

“I know what he meant,” Sunset said. “But all the same, we’re still talking about someone who bailed on her team, on her family.”

“Nobody thinks that you’re going to do that, Sunset,” Ruby assured her. “I mean…”

“What?”

Ruby glanced away. “Well … when you went on that mission to Arcadia Lake, when you weren’t answering Pyrrha’s messages … Yang did get a little…”

“I can’t say I blame her, in the circumstances,” Sunset said. Especially since I did run away, in a sense. “All the same … it’s not the most flattering comparison, or at least, I don’t find it so.”

“Professor Ozpin gave it a lot more context, when he was talking to me,” Ruby insisted. “All the times when Raven was the one to step up, to protect Mom and everyone else: during Initiation, at Ozpin’s stand, when they struck at Salem.”

“'Struck at—'!” Sunset cried. She closed her eyes, a sigh passing between her lips. “Of course they did. That’s what Professor Ozpin was talking about in the tower when he inducted me and Pyrrha, and that … that’s what Salem was talking about, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” Ruby murmured. “Professor Ozpin thought that maybe Mom could turn Salem to stone with her silver eyes, not kill her, but trap her forever; he thought that maybe that was why Salem had hunted them—”

“'Hunted them'?” Sunset repeated. “Hunted silver eyes?”

Ruby nodded. “That’s why we’re so rare.”

Sunset rolled her own eyes, though they be only green instead of silver. “He kept that quiet, didn’t he? And so did you, for that matter.”

“Is it important?”

“Is it important that our enemy has been actively hunting down the rare trait which you are known to possess? Yes, it kind of is!” Sunset squawked. “What if she sends someone after you?”

“Who?”

“I don’t know; Cinder’s still around somewhere, isn’t she?!” Sunset yelled. “We could … I don’t… honestly, the pair of you!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Ruby said.

“I disagree,” Sunset said. “Profoundly.”

Ruby folded her arms. “What would you have done if you’d known this before?”

“I would have had you wear coloured contact lenses.”

“Sunset!”

“What? It would have stopped people realising the truth.”

“I don’t want to hide my eyes!” Ruby cried. “My mom gave them to me.”

“Even though it turns out they paint a target on your back.”

“I want to be a huntress; my life was never going to be free from danger,” Ruby reminded her.

“Sure, but there’s a difference between that and … never mind,” Sunset huffed. “It’s a bit late now anyway; Salem already knows; just … take care, okay. Keep your guard up.” She paused. “So … it didn’t work, then? Turning Salem to stone?”

“No,” Ruby conceded. “Mom tried, but … it didn’t work. Raven got them out again.”

“I see,” Sunset murmured. “That … is a pity. A pity that it didn’t work, I mean, not that Raven got them out, obviously.”

And she managed to do it without risking anyone else’s life in the process.

I’ve got a way to go to measure up, clearly.

“So how does it feel,” she asked, “to know more than you did before?”

“No … no matter what I found out,” Ruby said, “finding out the truth is always better than not knowing.”

Sunset had to resist the urge to clutch her heart as Ruby stabbed her through it.

If only, if only that were true.

Hate Without Measure (New)

Hate Without Measure

The engine of Sunset's motorcycle purred pleasantly as Sunset — with Ruby sat behind her, arms wrapped around Sunset's waist — drove up the road back into Beacon.

The sky was dark above, and the moon was out; they'd gone to see the new I-Spy picture at the movies, and it had only just finished.

Said cinematic experience was the subject of discussion as Sunset parked her bike outside the team garage.

"I have to say," she said as she took off her helmet and shook her long hair free, "that I'm not surprised that movie theatres are dying on the basis of that standard of service. They hadn't even cleaned the place up after the last showing; there was spilt popcorn on the floor from whoever had been in there last."

"It wasn't that bad," Ruby replied as she leapt down from Sunset's bike.

"I should be able to watch a movie without also having to watch where I'm putting my feet," Sunset insisted.

Not for the first time since leaving the theatre, she checked the soles of her boots. There had been some very sticky patches on the floor.

"Okay, fine, it could have been better, but what did you think of the film?" Ruby asked.

Sunset thought for a moment. "That was a weird title sequence, wasn't it? It was a cool song, but some of the places those octopus tentacles showed up … it made me wonder what sort of movie this was."

Ruby sniggered. "Yeah, the music for those movies is always cool, but the title sequences … yeah. Dad used to fast forward past them when we watched them when we watched them at home. He said we were too young."

"I think you might still be too young," Sunset muttered. "Still, it was good fun. I was surprised Ruby Roundhouse wasn't in it more; you said she was huge."

"She is huge," Ruby insisted. "Maybe that's why they couldn't get her for more than one action sequence. Still, I liked it. It's good to have the old style back; the last couple of these movies were too serious, they forgot to have any fun."

"Are they usually like that, then?" Sunset asked. "Secret conspiracies and supervillains with tentacles all over Remnant? And Vale as somehow a great power?"

"It is a Valish movie," Ruby reminded her. "And Vale is one of the four kingdoms; it's not like we're little."

"The climax of that film involved the Valish fleet sailing to attack Atlas as part of the villain's machinations." Sunset pointed out.

"Okay, that probably wouldn't happen," Ruby conceded.

"Although First Councillor Emerald probably wishes it could," Sunset muttered.

"You think so?" asked Ruby. "You really think he wants to start a war?"

"No," Sunset conceded. "I don't think he wants to start a war, although I don't think that he always thinks about … I'm not sure that his decision making always takes account of what is … the most effective decision he could take for the best interests of his people."

Ruby frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Sunset realised with a chilling sensation in her stomach that she had given away rather more than she should have, given that her meetings with the First Councillor were something that Ruby did not and could not know about. "I … it's, uh … it's an impression that I've formed from observing him and his decisions."

"Really? I think you're being kind of hard on the guy," Ruby said. "I don't agree with everything he does, and I probably wouldn't vote for him, but I think he's trying his best."

"You might be right," Sunset conceded. After all, Councillor Emerald had inherited a slew of problems, more than a few of which were of Sunset's making. "All the same, he does want to rearm Vale."

"Mmhmm," Ruby murmured. "That's the thing … like I said, he's trying his best, but that's the reason he wouldn't get my vote."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You think that Atlas should have a monopoly on military force?"

"I don't think Atlas should have any military force either," Ruby declared. "I know that Rainbow Dash … General Ironwood is someone else who seems like he's trying his best, and Professor Ozpin must trust him to tell him about…" — Ruby looked around furtively — "Salem, but even so … when the Great War ended and the Last King founded the huntsman academies, no kingdom was meant to have any soldiers."

"Vale has soldiers," Sunset pointed out. "Not many, and possibly not even very good, but it still has them."

"Well, then, it should get rid of those too," Ruby insisted, thereby demonstrating that, whatever the merits or the defects of her argument, she was, at the very least, consistent. "The whole reason why huntsmen and huntresses get to choose their own assignments is so that we can't be used by the kingdoms as tools of their power."

"I get the theory behind it," Subset allowed. "But … even leaving aside the question of whether it's really better that ordinary huntsmen and huntresses should be the ones deciding where they go and when instead of someone who can—"

"See the big picture?" Ruby suggested.

Sunset nodded. "How did you—?"

"Rainbow Dash said that when we talked about this," Ruby informed her.

"And you weren't convinced then, either?" Sunset guessed. "It's not an invalid argument."

Ruby grinned. "You think that because you're a tyrant."

"I … do not regard that as a criticism," Sunset declared haughtily. Her tone softened. "I don't want to play the 'you weren't there' card because it wasn't your fault, but … you weren't at the Breach; we would have been screwed without General Ironwood's fleet."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Vale has faced grimm hordes before and survived without Atlesian help or a super strong military," she replied. "Ozpin's Stand, where Team Stark made their bones, that was won by huntsmen; the Breach couldn't have been worse than that."

"I couldn't say; I wasn't at Ozpin's Stand," Sunset murmured.

"I'm sure that Councillor Emerald is making what he thinks is the smart choice to keep Vale safe," Ruby allowed. "But what if … what if all the kingdoms built up their militaries, and then Salem manipulated them into going to war with one another? Maybe even a new Great War?"

Sunset frowned slightly. "Like the bad guy in the movie?"

"Just because it's in a movie doesn't mean it's unrealistic," Ruby pointed out. A little laugh, a slightly hollow-sounding laugh, escaped her lips. "It's funny — only sort of not at the same time — that the real world is crazier than anything seen in the movies, and we're some of the only people who know it."

Sunset let out a bark of laughter. "Hah. Yeah, that … that is … while I grant you that the immortal witch is not something that many people here would think of — although my people would hardly bat an eyelid at it — I think that the … agents at Salem's disposal are fewer in number than is the case for the average screen supervillain."

"You think so?"

"I don't know so," Sunset admitted, "but I think that if Salem had an immense room with a huge table inside, and there was still only room for her top operatives to sit there, then Professor Ozpin would have a hard time dealing with her with just … well, assuming the Professor wasn't lying to me, it was just your uncle until recently, and even now, it's just us and Rosepetal and sort of Blake. It's a small group, but since Professor Ozpin seems to get away with it, then it stands to reason that Salem's forces must be pretty few in number too. It might just be Cinder and those that she managed to recruit for herself. I imagine it must be difficult to gather followers when you're a monster trying to destroy the world, and nobody even knows you exist."

"Makes sense," Ruby allowed. "Although that means that…"

Sunset blinked. "What?"

"That means that most of the bad stuff that goes on in the world, most of the evil, is nothing to do with Salem at all."

"True, but is that a bad thing?" Sunset asked. "Isn't it better than the alternative that every bad thing is Salem's doing?" Her voice slipped into an imitation of the villain from the movie they had just come from. "'It was me. It was always me. I was the author of all your pain.'" Sunset remembered that Salem really was the author of all of Ruby's pain — at least unless she found out about some of the things Sunset had done — and winced. "Ruby, I—"

"It's okay," Ruby assured her. "I get it."

"Thanks," Sunset said, nodding. "As for your point, about the military … you've got a point."

It was probably the best point that could be made against the rearming of the kingdoms; it was possibly the point that the Last King had had in mind when he decided that disarmament and huntsmen were the way to go. Had the Last King known about Salem? There seemed to be a connection between the circle of opposition to her and the academies; could it have been so all along? Had the Last King been one of their predecessors?

Would Professor Ozpin tell her if she asked him?

In any case, Salem's power to subvert the defences of the world was probably the best argument against having such defences. Whether it was a good enough argument … she did not know.

"But since hardly anyone knows about Salem," Sunset went on, "it's not surprising that they make decisions that she might take advantage of. Consequence of secrecy."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "Do you think it would be better if it wasn't a secret?"

"No," Sunset replied immediately. "Do you?"

"Not definitely, but maybe," Ruby said. "Why do you sound so sure?"

"Because I like the idea of being privy to special knowledge."

Ruby folded her arms. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," Sunset admitted. "But, to be … not more serious, but less selfish … Still no."

Ruby frowned, and kept her arms crossed as she said, "And less selfishly, why not?"

"Because you don't know how people would react," Sunset said. "What if they took it badly, what if they freaked out?"

"What if they didn't?" Ruby replied. "What if everyone rose to the occasion?"

"The reward isn't worth the risk," Sunset said. "At least, not in my eyes. And besides, even if they took the news brilliantly well, people would still demand punishment for the likes of Professor Ozpin who has lied to them for so long."

"It would be pretty hard to forgive," Ruby acknowledged. "Lying for so long, about something so serious."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured wordlessly, her voice strained and a little strangled-sounding. "Do you, uh, do you want to go back to the dorm room?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll just put this away," Sunset said. She got out her scroll and used it to open up the garage door, which ground upwards with a rumbling of its motor and a rattling of the metal.

Sunset pushed her motorcycle inside and rested it beside the wall.

Afterwards, as the garage door rumbled shut behind them, Sunset and Ruby walked back towards the dorm room.

Beacon was quiet at the moment, at this time of night, at this time of year, with so many other students out of school and those that were in not being out and about on school grounds after dark. Sunset and Ruby did not come across, nor catch sight of, any other students — or any teachers either, for that matter — until they reached the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the centre of the great courtyard.

Arslan Altan was waiting there, reading or watching something on her scroll.

"Arslan?" Sunset said. "I'm sure there must be more comfortable places to do that."

Arslan looked up, and shortly thereafter got up, putting her scroll away as she did so.

"Hey, you two," Arslan said. "Do you know where Pyrrha is?"

"She's not here right now," Ruby said. "Did you need her for something?"

"When you say 'she's not here,'" Arslan said, "what does that mean, exactly?"

"She's gone with Jaune to the little village he calls home to visit his family," Sunset explained.

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "She's got the 'meet the parents' trip already?" She grinned. "Doing well, isn't she? Not taking things slowly, either."

"What's the point in taking things slowly if you already know the destination, I suppose," Sunset replied.

"I guess," Arslan said. "She really is certain, then?"

"Was there any doubt?" asked Sunset.

"I guess not, but … I think there are a few in Mistral still holding out hope that this is all just a passing fancy. Still, best of luck to P-Money, I suppose. She's better off there than here."

"Why?" asked Ruby. "Why were you looking for her?"

"Because Phoebe’s looking for her; she's on the warpath," Arslan explained. "I don't know what happened today, but she came back from Vale in a lather about something, and she's been storming up and down looking for Pyrrha, demanding to know where she is. She treated me as though I was hiding her somewhere. Speaking of which, you might want to hide yourselves, or she'll come after you on the grounds that you must know where Pyrrha is."

Sunset put her hands on her hips. "And nothing at all, nothing at all, to indicate why she wanted to know?"

"No, just a lot of angry muttering that meant I wouldn't have told her where Pyrrha was even if I had known."

"I wouldn't want to disturb Pyrrha and Jaune," Sunset agreed, "but Phoebe's basically harmless, at least to Pyrrha."

It was certainly true that Phoebe had a vicious streak, and that her cruelty towards Cinder was a good part of the reason why Cinder Fall existed, but Cinder had been a child at the time. The same Phoebe had failed to best Pyrrha even once, and the same Phoebe had not dared to try and face Sunset, not even in a contest for Soteria, her family heirloom, but rather sent a hireling to do battle in her place.

Even if she found out where Pyrrha was, what was she going to do about it?

"She's harmless in the arena," Arslan replied. "But…"

"But what?" asked Ruby.

Arslan shrugged. "Contestants in the tournament circuit are vetted, so clearly, they couldn't prove anything wrong, anything that made her an improper person, but … there are all kinds of rumours."

"I've heard one or two myself," Sunset agreed.

"Then you know I wouldn't want to run into her in a back alley with no aura," Arslan said. "She's got more ways to fight than in arenas or tournaments, and right now, she seems to be intent on picking a fight, so watch yourselves and tell Jaune and Pyrrha the same when they get back."

"Will do, thanks," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "How long were you waiting out here to tell us that?"

"I … wasn't waiting out here for you!" Arslan insisted, not very convincingly. "I don't care that much, I was just... just be on your guard, okay? Until she calms down, at least. Anyway, I'll see you around." She turned away and began to walk towards the dorms housing the Haven students."

"Thank you!" Ruby called, waving to her with one hand. "We appreciate it!" She looked up at Sunset. "What do you think that's about?"

"Phoebe doesn't like Pyrrha," Sunset pointed out. "She isn't all that fond of me either."

"Yeah, but Arslan seems to think that this is something different," Ruby pointed out.

"Maybe it is," Sunset said. "But we'd have to run into her to find out for sure, and I wouldn't seek out her company at the best of times."

She hesitated. She was not afraid of Phoebe Kommenos, despite knowing the other girl's capacity for cruelty. Phoebe was vicious, or had been; there was no kind way of saying it. There was a reason why Cinder had been frozen by Phoebe's mere presence. But at the same time, Sunset was not a child. She's not helpless before Phoebe as Cinder has been in her youth; none of them were, not even Jaune.

And so, despite knowing full well what Phoebe was capable of, Sunset did not fear her. There were others, and other things, more horrifying for her to fear instead.

Yet at the same time, there was no point inviting conflict.

"Let's just do as Arslan suggested, try and stay out of Phoebe's way," Sunset said. "That's advisable in any circumstances." She chuckled at her own wit. "Come on, let's get back to the dorm room."

Within her own dorm room, in the dorms allocated to the visiting Atlas students, Phoebe Kommenos sat on her bed and brooded.

Her mood was black. It had been so ever since her encounter with Tempest Shadow and … and who? And what? Something had happened today but she … she struggled to recall just what had happened.

She was not the only one. Mal, the idiot, could not remember anything, but that was to be expected: she was only a faunus, after all, and racially condemned to stupidity. Faunus possessed a certain brute strength, but they were temperamentally unsuited for education, as was proven even by those like Rainbow Dash who were held up as paragons of their kind. Mal was, however, useful for fetching, for carrying, for helping her dress, for attending on her in all the ways that she required, and for that, Phoebe could almost forgive the ridiculousness of her being allowed to study at a prestigious academy like Atlas.

In any case, it was completely unsurprising that she remembered nothing, for she was dull-witted and unobservant; it was more concerning that none of Phoebe's friends could remember either.

Nor, most worryingly of all, could Phoebe herself.

Tempest had been there; Tempest Shadow, another of those damn faunus who infested Atlas like rats; Tempest had been there, and then … and then…

And then there had been music. Such music, music as she had never heard before, music which spoke not to her ears but to her very soul.

Music that spoke in passions and in dark desires. Music that knew her. Music that whispered of such things, that prodded at the old wounds, that stirred up the eternal enmities.

Music that had roused from darkness the black mood that sat upon her presently.

She was sad and angry in equal measure, and as the sadness and the anger were without cause, so too they were without measure, unlimited.

She hated them. By Seraphis and Tithys and Amphitrite and Erechthonious the keeper of the underworld, she hated them.

She hated Pyrrha. It was all Pyrrha's fault, all Pyrrha's doing; ever had the Nikos heiress conspired to thwart her, to shame and to humiliate her. It was Pyrrha who had made Phoebe a laughingstock in Mistral, left her bereft of fans, marginalised her on the circuit.

“Would it could be proven that some malicious spirit had crept into my house and to Hippolyta’s and switched the slumbering infants in their cradles and called my daughter Pyrrha Nikos and hers Phoebe Kommenos.”

So had Phoebe’s mother said once, ignoring for a moment the fact that Phoebe was three years older than Pyrrha. It had been an unkind cut to say the least.

The unkindest cut of all and all the fault of Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha Nikos. Precious Pyrrha Nikos. Princess Pyrrha Nikos. Gallant, skilled, and mighty Pyrrha Nikos. Fair Pyrrha Nikos, and all the more fair for being — reputed as she was — fairer than the word in wondrous virtues.

Turnus loves her fair, oh, happy fair! Oh, hated fair, oh, much despised and loathed fair!

Oh, most ungrateful fair who steals the gaze of he whom I so greatly hope shall look on me and yet cares not, bestowing her gaze instead upon some Valish wretch, scorning and dishonouring the worthiest man in all of Mistral.

Oh, how Phoebe longed to pluck out those green eyes and scar that pretty face beyond all recognition.

She would do the same to that faunus, given half the chance.

Sunset Shimmer she hated too. It was not to be borne that a faunus — a faunus! — bore Soteria, the sword of her ancestors which properly belonged to her and which she had, to her undying shame, failed to recover. Now, Sunset Shimmer wore it on her back as though by right, flaunting her good fortune, waving it in Phoebe's face, mocking her with it.

Or else so heedless of Phoebe Kommenos that she cared not either way. That might be worse.

She had cared enough when she had humiliated Phoebe in the duelling ring, defeating her catspaw and her attempt to recover Soteria.

She hated Sunset Shimmer. She hated her for her slights, for her insults, and most of all, she hated her for being a faunus. A faunus who was reputed clever, who walked so confidently, whose looks drew such envious attention, who was talked of with such admiration for her deeds. No faunus had the right to possess such gifts, to transcend ugliness and stupidity and worthlessness.

Yet, she and Pyrrha both were spoken of in the highest tones, how they had thwarted the White Fang, how they had apprehended a notorious criminal, how they had saved Vale.

It was more than Phoebe could take.

The anger was without limit. It was as boundless as the oceans.

It was without recourse.

Phoebe got up off her bed and began to prowl up and down her dorm room. Her teammates Thorn and Lycus, recognising her mood, had absented themselves from the room. Mal waited, cowed, silent until spoken too.

Phoebe paid her little mind. For her mind was fixed upon the objects of her hatred as plots for vengeance whirled about her head.

And yet how? How were her dark desires to be accomplished? She had not — it wounded her to admit it — the skill to strike them down, nor the opportunity to do so unobserved. The same went for hurting them through the weaker members of their team: Phoebe would never get close enough.

It was true that, earlier in the day, when the memory of the music was fresher in her mind, Phoebe had sought out Pyrrha, meaning to face her directly. In that moment, she had felt as though a torch had been ignited in her breast, a fire of fury burning within her, a fire that cried put for battle and bloodshed. She had searched everywhere to challenge Pyrrha, but Pyrrha had not been here.

Pyrrha had slunk away, and now … now the fire had cooled, leaving the embers of her wrath, no less angry than before … but a deal more patient.

If Phoebe had her mouth, she would bite; if she had her liberty, she would do her liking. But she had neither mouth nor liberty, for though she was in General Ironwood's grace, she remained there only so long as she did not trespass openly against the strictures he laid down and the authority by which he enforced them.

But, though it was not yet clear to her how, she would be revenged. She had tried once before, and for her trouble had been roughly handled and threatened by Lightning Dust. But now, Lightning Dust was gone, with the rest of Team CLEM. They had turned out to be anarchists of some sort.

A slow, ugly smile spread across the face of Phoebe Kommenos. Team Clementine were fled. What if they yet had confederates here at Beacon? Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer had been thick as thieves, after all.

Would that not be a fine thing: Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, last heir of the line of Nikos, an enemy of mankind? Would that not set all Mistral weeping?

They had left themselves open to it by Sunset's connection with Cinder. Phoebe would spread rumours, false reports. Pyrrha was the one who was really behind it, her and her mother; they had recruited Sunset Shimmer to their enterprise and bestowed Soteria upon her as a mocking sign of their trust. Then, they had contacted Cinder Fall while in Mistral and pledged to advance their interests together.

It is not the painful or the bloody vengeance I desire, but they have all the glory that should be mine. If I may injure them in any way, I bless myself in every way.

And when Pyrrha's reputation lay in tatters, when she stood revealed for the villain she was, then Mistral would turn to a new hero, someone of good family and impeccable reputation, someone to whom no scandal had attached themselves, someone beautiful and eligible and worthy in all respects.

And everything that Pyrrha had would then be hers.

Phoebe got out her scroll and soon found the number of the editor of The Daily Remnant, one of Mistral's middlebrow journals.

One which, by a staggering coincidence, she happened to own; she had inherited a controlling stake in it from her late mother.

She didn't generally interfere on editorial policy, as much as she wanted to at times; for the sake of keeping her investment profitable, she had to resist the urge to turn the paper into her own personal promotion circular. But now…

Now seemed like the right time for a new approach.

Sunset on Alba Longa (New)

Sunset on Alba Longa

As the rackety old train pulled into Alba Longa, Sunset stood before the carriage door and pushed down upon the window.

It got stuck, without having descended far enough down that she could stick her head out and see the lock on the other side.

Nevertheless, there was enough room for Sunset to stick her arm through, and so, Sunset did just that, fumbling for the catch that would open the door.

She found it. It, too, was stuck. A scowl settled upon Sunset's face as she waggled the handle fruitlessly, turning it this way and that, trying to get it to move more than a fraction of an inch.

It stubbornly refused to do so.

Sunset huffed, grabbed the case resting on the floor, and teleported out of the railway carriage in a move that would have been the height of showing off if she hadn't been physically trapped otherwise.

It was a good thing no one else seemed to want to get off here.

Although it wasn’t necessarily the best advertisement for the town.

Sunset had Sol Invictus slung across one shoulder and a rucksack on the other, with Soteria — worn across her back — sitting between the two. The case in her right hand was light and barely weighed upon her arm.

Sunset had not packed for this visit anything like as extensively as Pyrrha, for the simple reason that she had far less need to make a good impression on Jaune's family, and for the equally simple reason that, unlike Pyrrha, Sunset could be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl as easily as she could be a frock or gown girl.

Thus, Sunset was not sartorially overburdened; the heaviest items she had brought with her were all the research materials she had in her rucksack, not only plenty of note paper but also Runciman’s majestic History of Vale and Bagehot’s Peerage, both borrowed from Beacon Library. If she found anything here, it would be useful to have some means of cross referencing it with a respected academic source.

Of course, there was also the need to give thought to the likely possibility that she would find nothing of note. Lady Nikos was expecting Sunset to find something that would be a balm for her embarrassment at Pyrrha's choice of boyfriend, and if there was nothing to find…

That was another reason why Sunset had brought the books with her: if she had to make something up, it would be as well to look vaguely consistent with the real thing.

"Sunset!"

The sound of Pyrrha's voice drew Sunset's attention to just beyond the dead railway station. Pyrrha and Jaune were waiting for her, standing side by side. Another woman — presumably one of Jaune's sisters judging by the physical similarity and the fact that she did not look old enough to be his mother — stood behind them, a little way off.

Sunset waved with her free hand as she made her way across the grass towards them.

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of green, with a skirt that reached all the way down to the ground, even if it did not spread out very far on either side of her hips. The skirt was a very light, pale shade of red, but the long peplum that descended as low as her knees was a deeper, richer shade. The bodice continued seamlessly from the peplum, embracing her figure until it reached the collar that wrapped around her shoulders but left her arms bare and which was of the sane pale shade as the skirt, save for the rich red camellia that sat in the very centre of the collar. A black choker, from which hung a trio of emerald pendants, was tightly clasped about her throat. Her hair was worn in its usual ponytail, and her circlet gleamed upon her brow.

"You look nice," Sunset said as she approached. "You look … the same," she added to Jaune, who was wearing his hoodie and jeans.

Jaune laughed self-deprecatingly. "Nice to see you, too," he said. "How was the trip?"

"The carriage door stuck," Sunset declared, "but I suppose the view was nice enough if you like that sort of thing."

"Did you and Ruby have a good time without us?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yeah, mainly," Sunset replied. "Although Phoebe is more upset than usual, apparently; something to be aware of when you get back."

Pyrrha frowned. "What happened?"

"I don't know; Ruby and I have been keeping out of her way," Sunset admitted. "Arslan warned us to steer clear, so we did. But anyway, more to the point, how have things been with you two? Have the future in-laws been suitably impressed?"

Pyrrha blushed near as red as her dress, while Jaune chuckled slightly nervously. "It was … a bit of a rough start," he said, "but now, I think that pretty much everyone has accepted that I'm going back to Beacon and that Pyrrha and I are together.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Was that ever in any doubt?"

"From me? No," Jaune said. "From parts of my family … kinda."

"I see," Sunset muttered. "But you're not going to get any more trouble, are you? Or are you? You did say 'pretty much everyone.'"

"I meant 'everyone,'" Jaune said quickly.

"Then why didn't you say 'everyone'?" demanded Sunset. "Never mind, if you say it's taken care of, then … I shall soon find out if you're lying, I suppose." She grinned. "But, on the basis that you're not lying: congratulations!"

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured. She beamed brightly, her while face illuminated by her smile as she said, "They invited me to be in the family photograph!"

"Nice!" Sunset declared. "I never got that; Flash's mother would have rather died than let me anywhere near a family photo. You're well in there." She paused. "You know, usually I would say that Jaune was the lucky one — because, well, because you are the lucky one, no offence — but I have to admit, Pyrrha, you … you're pretty lucky too. You're lucky that your boyfriend's mother doesn't think you're awful, for a start." She smiled.

Pyrrha chuckled as she put one hand upon Jaune's arm. "That is far, far from the extent of my good fortune," she declared, "but I am glad of it, although it seemed like it might be a close call at first."

"I am going to need to hear all the details," Sunset said. "But before that, is there anywhere I can put my stuff?"

"You've got a room over the tavern," Jaune said. "Unfortunately, there isn't room for you to stay at my family's place."

"Fair enough," Sunset said. "Is someone going to lead the way?"

"I'll take you there," the other woman, the one who had been waiting patiently hitherto, stepped forward. She was a little shorter than Jaune — or Pyrrha, for that matter — but her arms were visibly toned as they emerged from beneath the short sleeves of her blue uniform shirt, and she wore a copper badge upon her belt. She thrust out her hand. "Sky Arc, Jaune's sister and the Sheriff of Alba Longa."

Sunset took her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, Jaune's team leader."

Sky nodded. "I'll show you to the Moon — that's the tavern," she explained. "You'll be stuck with my company for a little while; Jaune's taking Pyrrha out on the lake, aren't you Jaune?"

Jaune shifted nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, it is beautiful this time of year."

"Very nice, very … traditional," Sunset said. "I certainly won't keep you from that. Lead the way, Sheriff."

"'Sky' will be fine," Sky said, as she turned away. "It's this way."

"I'll see you later, then?" Sunset said to Jaune and Pyrrha.

"Sky will show you the house too," Jaune assured her. "We'll probably be there."

"Okay," Sunset said. "Have fun, and don't ruin that dress falling into the water." She smiled at them, before hastening after Sky Arc.

She swiftly drew level with Jaune's sister, then slowed her pace so that she stayed level instead of pulling out in front in this place that was new to her.

Besides, she had a sense that Sky wished to speak to her.

"So," Sky said, thereby validating Sunset's suspicion, "you're Jaune's boss?"

"I'm his team leader," Sunset said. "Which means, yes, in battle, I am his boss. It also means that I'm responsible for what happens to him."

"And outside of battle?"

"I'm … still responsible, in many respects," Sunset replied.

Sky fell silent for a moment. "Pyrrha … tells me that Jaune has … killed someone."

Sunset swallowed. "Yeah," she acknowledged. "Yeah, Pyrrha … isn't lying about that."

"Could you have done something so that he didn't?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I won't claim to be a flawless leader," she said. "I've made mistakes. But when I think about that particular battle, I made the best dispositions I could. and I made the best plan I could. There's nothing I would do differently. Sometimes, in battle, things just happen. It wasn't my intent to inflict that on Jaune, but it does not haunt me as a failure."

"And you?" Sky asked. "Have you ever…?"

Sunset glanced at her. "Killed someone? Rather a personal question, don't you think?"

Sky shrugged. "I'm asking it anyway."

"Obviously," Sunset muttered. She breathed deeply, in and out. "Yes," she half-growled the word.

Sky nodded. "I … I didn't want Jaune to go back to that school."

"That's not your decision to make," Sunset said.

"That isn't what changed my mind."

"Then what did?" asked Sunset.

"One of those grimm," Sky said softly. "First one we've seen around here in years. Generations. Jaune and Pyrrha … I get it now." She paused. "Except there's still one thing that I don't get. Well, two things, actually."

"And what are those?" Sunset asked.

"If you're supposed to be training to fight monsters, then why are you killing people?"

"Sometimes, the people are the monsters," Sunset replied.

"Okay," Sky allowed. "I'll … fine, let's go with that. But more importantly, aren't you supposed to go to school to learn how to do stuff later? Jaune said he fought in some big battle; shouldn't that be what the people who've already graduated do?"

"You might think that," Sunset murmured dryly.

"I'm being serious," Sky insisted.

"Then in all seriousness," Sunset replied, "you can't learn how to fight monsters without actually fighting some monsters, and that means exposing ourselves to unpredictable circumstances; we … we did not intend to take such burdens on ourselves. It just … happened."

Sky was silent a moment. "That's it?"

"If I had a better answer, I would give it to you," Sunset replied.

"Hmm," Sky muttered. "I guess even the best explanation wouldn't make me worry any the less. So I'll just have to accept it, won't I?"

Sunset didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that she could say that was likely to help. Jaune being launched upon this course, perilous though it was, there were no words would make it less perilous. Nor would putting meaning to the peril make it hurt the less.

Sky shook her head. "Anyway, I hear that you're the one who's going to prove that we're all nobles?"

Sunset laughed. "If I can."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I'll make something up."

"Really?" Sky asked incredulously.

Sunset shrugged. "What Lady Nikos wants, above all else, is something that will let her save face in the salons of Mistral. Obviously, some truth would be preferable, but if the truth is not amenable, then lies will serve."

"'Save face,'" Sky repeated. "Because our family isn't good enough for the princess of Mistral."

Sunset cleared her throat. "If I've offended you—"

"It would annoy me if Pyrrha said it," Sky declared. "But I guess if Pyrrha thought that—"

"She wouldn't be dating Jaune in the first place," Sunset finished for her. "The views of the mother are not those of the daughter. Do not hold Pyrrha to account for Lady Nikos' attitudes or opinions."

"Don't worry; I've spent enough time around Pyrrha to take the measure of her," Sky assured her. "She dresses like a princess, but she's not full of herself at all. But what about you?"

Sunset snorted. "I can be full of myself, from time to time."

"I meant," Sky explained, "why are you doing this? Do you think Jaune isn't good enough for Pyrrha?"

"What I think is irrelevant," Sunset said. "I'm not dating Jaune, and I'm not Pyrrha's mother either. But Lady Nikos has been good to me, and if I can repay that with this service, then I will. There is no more to it than that."

Sky's lips twisted for a moment. "Okay. But all the same, what do you think of them?"

"I think he's very lucky," Sunset said. "But … though it is less obvious, so is she. Pyrrha … has found a man to navigate her contradictions."

"What do you mean?"

"Pyrrha wishes to be treated as of herself, not of her reputation," Sunset said. "Loved not for her strength of arms, nor for her noble lineage, but for her spirit. And yet, at the same time, I think she would find it hard to be treated … too ordinarily, to be used for some boy's good time and then thrown away, to be hurt or taken for granted. To be … got into trouble, as they say. Her gentle spirit would not bear it. Jaune … it seems this place has bred a gentleman."

"It's bred a nice boy," Sky said. She frowned. "You know, I'm glad Jaune’s dating Pyrrha and not you."

"I'm glad of your gladness at the way things are, but I cannot but suspect an insult to my character."

"The fact that you think being treated like an ordinary girl means being treated badly," Sky said. "For all your leather jacket, you're more stuck up than Pyrrha in her dresses, aren't you?"

Sunset smiled. "Guilty as charged."

Sky huffed. "Anyway. As well as being the Sheriff, I'm also the family expert on the town and its history, so once you're settled in, I'll show you where everything is."

"I'm more interested in the family history than in the town," Sunset said.

"That might not be so easy," Sky replied, "but I'll help you out if I can."

Sunset hadn't been sure what to expect from Jaune's home, but if she had conscious expectations, then she had probably — once she understood that Jaune came from a small town — been expecting something a little like Princess Twilight's Ponyville — which was to say, the Ponyville of Princess Twilight's stories, whatever relationship that might or might not have to the place itself — a small community which nevertheless managed to bustle despite its size, somewhere friendly — perhaps overly so — somewhere … a bit like Jaune himself, really.

What she got were hard stares which verged on hostile and eyes which followed her through the village as though they feared what she might do if left unobserved.

"People here aren't too fond of outsiders," Sky explained.

"And you?"

"It's been … an enlightening couple of days," Sky replied.

Sky showed Sunset the Arc family home, then brought her to the Moon Over Water, the village tavern. From the outside, it looked modest, a two-storey wooden building with a shallow lying slanted roof, looking as much like someone's cabin as a communal space. Inside, it was dark, illuminated by dim red lights which cast the bar and its occupants in harsh, sinister lighting; guitar-heavy country music was playing on the jukebox, and a couple of burly, moustachioed men in denim were playing pool in one corner of the room as Sky led Sunset inside.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

"Hey, Oakie," Sky called. "This here is Sunset Shimmer; she's here for the room I talked to you about."

The man behind the bar had long grey hair and a grey moustache drooping down on either side of his mouth to end up beneath his chin. He said, "Right," and reached beneath the bar to pull out a set of keys on a plastic fob. "Here you go."

He threw the keys at Sunset, who caught them in one hand.

"Thanks," she said. She glanced at Sky. “This place isn’t fond of outsiders but you have rooms to let?”

“We do get some visitors,” Sky pointed out. “We’re still a part of the Kingdom of Vale, after all, and we aren’t subsistence farmers either. The tax assessor, the purchaser come to buy our grain and fruit, the travelling merchant … we don’t always welcome their presence, but we recognise they need somewhere to stay.”

"You the huntress that's gonna keep us all safe?" asked one of the two men playing pool.

"No, this is a friend of Jaune's," Sky said. "There'll be a qualified huntsman along soon enough, but she's not it."

"Shame," the other pool player said. "I wouldn't mind having a huntress around if she was as fine-looking as you."

It was all that Sunset could do not to roll her eyes.

A man at the bar, older than her by more than a few years, muscularly built, with short red hair, glanced her way and looked for a second, before turning away, having said nothing.

“Your room number is on the fob,” Sky told her. “And they’re upstairs.”

There were only four rooms upstairs to choose from, so Sunset could have found the right room by just trying the key in every lock until she found the one it opened — she wasn’t even sure that there were any other guests to worry about disturbing — but the number 4 was written on the plastic fob, directing Sunset to the room at the back of the upstairs corridor, nearest the bathroom.

Sunset only had to open the door to see that the rooms did not have en suite facilities. In fact, they barely had anything at all, just a bed surrounded by four wooden walls, a window that Sunset wasn’t sure that she trusted to open in this place, and wooden chest at the foot of the bed. That was pretty much it, really.

Still, could be worse.

There might not be a lock on the door.

“It isn’t much,” Sky admitted. “We don’t get—”

“A lot of outsiders, yes,” Sunset murmured. “So you’ve told me.” She put down her case on the floor and her rucksack and weapons on the bed.

Sky shut the door behind her. “So,” she said, “do you want to get straight to work or do you want to … settle in for a little bit?”

Sunset looked around the sparse and barren room. “'Settle in'?”

“Yeah, good point,” Sky said. “Okay, I’ll show you to the town archives, but before that…” She smiled. “Are there any embarrassing stories about Jaune that you would care to share?”

Sunset chuckled. “No.”

“No, there are no stories, or no, you won’t share them?” Sky asked.

“No, I’m not going to embarrass Jaune behind his back,” Sunset said.

Sky made a disappointed noise. “We already know about him chasing Weiss Schnee.”

“He told you about that?”

“As part of the story of how he and Pyrrha got together,” Sky explained.

“Well, if Jaune wants to air his youthful missteps that’s fine,” Sunset replied, “but as the team leader, I have to show loyalty to my teammates.”

“So … no embarrassing stories?”

“No…” Sunset hesitated. “I will tell you one thing, because it’s more funny than embarrassing, and because at this point, it will allow me to say something that I need to say.”

Sky cocked her head slightly to one side. “Go on.”

“Before he came here,” Sunset said, “I should add that I heard this from Ruby, our other teammate, but before he and Pyrrha left for here, Jaune was apparently afraid that Pyrrha might leave him for some big strapping local man.” Sunset was silent for a moment. “Which I thought was pretty ridiculous, even before I saw the standard of your local men.”

Sky folded her arms. “Our local boys aren’t that bad!”

“Are you involved with any of them?” Sunset replied.

“No,” Sky admitted. “But I … that kind of thing … anyway, let’s get you started. All the archives are stored under the Town Hall; I’ll show you around, and then … I’m going to have to leave you to get on with it; I do have a job to do here.”

“Yeah, that will be fine,” Sunset assured her. “As I said before, I’m mostly interested in the family.”

“And like I told you, that may not be so easy to find,” Sky replied. “I’m not sure that there is anything on the family before Bohemund Arc.”

“Who?”

“Our great-great-grandfather,” Sky said. “He founded this town.”

“And fought in the Great War, yes?”

“That’s the one,” Sky agreed. “I’ll show you his statue before we head to the Town Hall.”

Sky led her back out of the tavern and brought her through the village to the statue of her ancestor, Bohemund Arc; the plinth bore no name or inscription, doubtless because this was a small town and everyone already knew who he was.

He certainly cut an impressive figure, mounted upon his warhorse, with Crocea Mors held aloft; standing below, looking up at him, it was easy to see what Jaune had been attempting to become.

But not everyone could be the second coming of their famous ancestors. The world just didn’t work like that.

Still, he certainly looked like a good place to start — Sunset had no better ideas — so she allowed Sky to lead her into the dark depths beneath the Town Hall, the most impressive building in Alba Longa by some distance, and there, amongst the shelves and shelves of archives, the records of old ordinances and resolutions debated, passed or defeated, the deeds of the mayors and the results of the elections, Sunset unpacked her notes and her books and started her research with Bohemund Arc.

He was as impressive a fellow as his statue — and the fact that he had been given a statue at all — indicated. He had founded Alba Longa when he was only a young man; according to the records of the Mayoralty, he was only thirty-two when, in response to a humble petition, the King of Vale had granted Alba Longa a town charter, recognising the new settlement as a community with the freedom to administer its own affairs under His Majesty and under the laws of Vale. At that point, Bohemund had been acclaimed as mayor, no other candidates presenting themselves. The town charter had not been granted for a couple of years after the first houses had been built beside the lake, so Bohemund must have started the founding before he was even thirty.

An impressive man, indeed.

After a single term as mayor, he had resigned his office, declaring that said office ought to be bigger than any one man. That was a knock against him as far as Sunset was concerned; she knew that some Remnant historians were inclined to praise the virtue of yielding up power, just as they praised the Last King for abdicating his throne, but Sunset didn’t see the point in giving up a position you were good at just because you could. Someone had to rule, after all, and it might as well be someone who had been ruling well thus far as some newcomer who would have to find their feet.

Nevertheless, Bohemund Arc had made that well-intentioned mistake, retiring to his farm and his family, but when the Great War had begun, he had come out of retirement to take up his sword, raising a company of volunteers and placing them at the King’s service. By that time, he had been closer to seventy than sixty, yet by all accounts — accounts, admittedly, written by his friends and family; Sunset’s main source for all of this was a collection of letters home by the various soldiers who had marched with him — he had led his men with valour in the field and treated them with consideration in the camp. He had perished during General Colton’s abortive Mistral campaign, besieging a fortress held by the faunus. Wounded, he had refused water, insisting it be given to another wounded soldier whose need, so he claimed, was greater than his own.

He had died not long after.

A remarkable man, to be sure, but Lady Nikos was not interested in whether Jaune’s ancestors were brave, although perhaps … perhaps she ought to have been. Perhaps Mistral ought to give a little more consideration to brave ancestors, rather than simply noble ones.

But then, if you were going to take that attitude, then why bother with ancestry at all?

That was a question that Sunset did not wish to get into, so she put it out of her mind and went back to the story of Bohemund Arc to see if she could find out anything about him from before he had established Alba Longa. It was not a fertile search, as Sky had warned her that it would not be; nobody from the founding days of Alba Longa seemed to want to discuss what they had been or where they had come from before the town was founded. It was as if they were ashamed of themselves, or more charitably, they simply wished to make a fresh start here, unburdened by what had come before.

Judging by his speech upon accepting the Mayoral office, it was clear that Bohemund Arc had certainly seen it that way.

Every man has a past, he had said, addressing the people of the newly chartered town. Only the newborn babe is free from the shackles of what has gone before, and even a child can bear the burden of their parents' legacies. But, rarely, we are given the chance to throw off those chains and to start anew, defined not by what we have been and done before but by what we choose to do and be from now.

Whatever I was, whatever my family were, matters not anymore. Whatever you were, whatever you have been, matters not anymore. For we have received the Royal Charter, bearing the seal of His Majesty the King, and by this seal, whatever went before is rendered null and void.

We are the people of Alba Longa now, and the future is in our hands.

It did occur to Sunset that if this settlement was founded by people running from their pasts, it might explain why they had a dislike of visitors and outsiders which had become ingrained in their descendants.

It also occurred to her that if that were the case, then neither she nor Jaune nor Lady Nikos might like the answers if she were to continue to pry into the secrets of the Arc family and its heritage.

Well, if that is the case … I can keep a secret, Celestia knows. If I find out anything disgraceful, I shall keep it to myself and make up something more inspiring for Lady Nikos.

I think a man like Bohemund Arc deserves an inspiring ancestry in any case.

Nevertheless, his insistence on leaving the past beyond Alba Longa aside didn’t leave her very much to go on. Nor did it help that, judging by a comment made by his son, Robert Arc, in a letter home to his mother during the war — in which he had fought first alongside his father, and then been elected to lead the company after his father’s death — Bohemund Arc had been illiterate. It was a surprising fact to Sunset, but there was no denying what was written in Robert’s letter.

Father is unable to write you himself, but he wishes me to convey his deepest love and most sincere affection and to tell you that he wishes for nothing more than that this bloody war should come to an end, that he might return home to you and live out the remainder of your days in peace.

It didn’t have to mean that he was incapable of writing, of course — he might have hurt his hand — but there was not a single letter home written by Bohemund in the entire collection, and to Sunset’s mind, the fact that Robert didn’t feel the need to explain why his father was unable to write was suggestive.

She spent hours searching, going without lunch because she was getting caught up in the search, hunting down every scrap of paper, every letter, every anything that might give her a clue about Bohemund Arc’s origins, his parentage, who he had been before he founded Alba Longa.

There was nothing. The slate had started clean here in this town, just as he had wished.

What kind of past would drive someone to erase it? Sunset could think of answers, just not any good ones.

Since she was unable to look further back, Sunset found herself looking forwards, closer to her own time, for all the good that it would do. Bohemund’s son, Robert, had taken up his father’s sword and fought in the Great War until the final victory, being present at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns; he had even been one of the Last King’s honour guard, who had accompanied His Majesty to accept the submission of Mistral, Mantle, and Vacuo. And then, like his father before him, he had returned to Alba Longa and taken up a quiet life, farming his land, helping his neighbours, a presence in the life of the town but one with no official role.

His son — one of his sons — Carrot Arc, had attended the then-nascent Beacon Academy, and Carrot was the most prolific writer of the three generations of Arcs that Sunset had yet come across, because Carrot had kept a diary.

There was little to hope that Carrot’s journal would begin with a recounting of his family history, but nevertheless, Sunset took it out of its file box and, using telekinesis rather than her fingers to move the pages for fear of damaging it, began to flick through it.

...my partner is a man named Crown D’Eath; he often seems sad, and when he is not sad, he is rather solemn, but he is incredibly brave. In fact I’m not sure that he has any fear at all.

…I saw Delphi sitting alone again today; I think it’s pretty harsh for even her own teammates, her own partner, to want nothing to do with her like this, just because she’s from Mistral. She didn’t start the war, or fight in it. I went and sat with her.

I don’t understand how anyone can treat someone so beautiful with such unkindness.

Sunset snorted. Arcs get struck down easily, it seems.

…Crown got into a fight today with Goshawk Winchester. I wasn’t sure what it was about, but Crown is my partner, so when the punches started flying, I joined in to help him, of course. It turns out — as Crown told me when we were doing our detention together — that Winchester had insulted his family. Crown told me that the D’Eath’s are an old Valish noble line, of long standing and much honour, but that they have fallen on hard times recently and are much reduced in state, so families like the Winchesters look down on them now.

I wonder if that’s why he fights so ferociously, so fiercely: he feels as though he has nothing to lose, since his family has already lost everything.

Nevertheless, I must confess I think it must be rather grand to know where you come from and to come from such a prestigious lineage. I felt rather embarrassed telling him that I don’t know anything about my family past my grandfather, although I also felt ashamed of my embarrassment, since both father and grandfather were heroes in the war.

If even you don’t know where your family came from, what hope is there for me? Sunset wondered.

I’m not ashamed of my family. The examples of service from my father and grandfather are why I decided to come here to Beacon and train so that I can follow in their footsteps. I just wish that I knew more about where we came from. I can still look to the future while being curious about my past.

Crown wasn’t contemptuous at all; in fact, he seemed fascinated. He said that Crocea Mors is much older than Grandfather’s day and asked if he could borrow it to do some study.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. It seems that I’m not the first one to walk this road.

Crown has been spending a lot of time in the library; he’s there almost all the time he’s not in class. I wish that he’d tell me why. I asked Delphi about it, and she told me that people have reasons for everything they do, but that sometimes, they prefer to keep those reasons private. I think she was talking about herself as much as about Crown.

Sunset frowned, flicking rapidly through pages in which there was nothing more about Crown’s researches, just ordinary details of school life — although from what she could gather from skimming through, ordinary school life which was becoming a little more tense as Carrot began to court this Delphi, the Mistralian student.

Crown and I had a row today. He was trying to get me to drop Delphi, and I wouldn’t hear of it. He kept on pushing me about it, and finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I let him have it, telling him that I wasn’t going to turn my back on the girl I love — yes, I said it, I love her! — just because she’s Mistralian and people don’t approve. Crown told me that it wasn’t about her being from Mistral. It wasn’t about the war, anyway.

He told me what he’d been researching in the library.

Sunset sat up straight.

I won’t put down what he told me.

“Oh, come on!” Sunset yelled, and then looked around guiltily, grateful that there was no one else down in the archives to have overheard that.

It’s not possible, what he said, and even if it were true, what he wants, what he talked about, it’s madness. It’s ridiculous. It’s wrong. I hate to be that kind of person, but I had to be honest: we wouldn’t be able to be friends if he kept on talking that way. Crown went very quiet, but he agreed not to bring it up.

Thanks a lot, Carrot, Sunset thought.

It occurred to her that there was some possibility that Crown D’Eath was still alive. Yes, being a huntsman was a dangerous profession, but they were only talking about Jaune’s grandfather’s generation … admittedly, Sunset didn’t know anyone with living grandparents, but there had to be some around somewhere; it wasn’t that long ago. He’d only be … about as old as Professor Ozpin, surely?

And if he did come from an old noble family, well, then he would be in Bagehot’s Peerage; not the use to which Sunset had intended to put it, but it was a good thing that she’d brought it with her nonetheless.

Sunset put down Carrot Arc’s diary and took up the book, a record of all the Valish noble families, their genealogies, coats of arms, notable members, deeds, and so and so forth. New editions were published regularly, taking account of births, marriages.

Sunset wondered idly if there was a Mistralian equivalent, or if all the old families knew one another’s history so well that there was no need for such.

She would be amazed if there wasn’t something like it.

And she thought that it would be rather nice, when the new edition came out, and it came time to draw a line from Pyrrha Penthesilea Penelope Alcestis Ariadne Hippolyta Nikos to Jaune Arc, with a little ‘m.’ above said line, if there was at least some indications as to where the lines flowing down to Jaune Arc had come from.

The families in Bagehot’s were arranged not in alphabetical order, but in order of their seniority in the peerage, but thankfully, there was an index in alphabetical order in the back, which Sunset was able to use to find the D’Eath family roughly in the middle of the book, possibly shading ever so slightly towards the back half.

She opened to the correct page of the heavy, hardback tome and was confronted by a picture of the D’Eath coat of arms, a silver helm with the visor down upon a scarlet field, and the motto, ‘First in the Vanguard’.

Sunset scanned the family tree, turning over the pages until she came to the most recent entry.

Crown D’Eath was dead, and died without heir, what was more; he had never married and had no children, making it overwhelmingly likely that whatever he had learned, or thought he had learned, had died with him.

A now disgraced family

Sunset blinked. 'Disgraced'? Why disgraced? It sounded as though they had declined in wealth, in power, but disgraced? Not a word she had expected to see written here.

She found herself skipping over a lot of the information about the history of the line, jumping to the final paragraph.

The family became disgraced and extinct with the death without issue or heir of Crown D’Eath, the fourteenth lord, following a series of acts of terror including the assassination of a Councillor, the murder of a huntress, and sundry other crimes vile and disreputable.

Sunset stared almost blankly at the paragraph for a few moments. There was … there was not really very much that you could say to that. It was not what she had expected to read.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to the Arc family. There was no proof of that, but she was convinced of it nonetheless.

For that reason, she temporarily packed up her stuff, putting books and pens and papers and everything else back in her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder as she ascended out of the underworld of the archives and back up into the corridors of the town hall, where the floors were flint and the walls were wood-panelled, decorated with hunting trophies and oil paintings. Sunset soon emerged from there, too, blinking into the sunlight, and set off through the town towards the Sheriff’s office.

Sky Arc might have a job to do, but there was no reason why Sunset couldn’t call upon her at her workplace for a short chat.

She reached the shores of the lake, the sunlight falling upon the waves and making the water seem almost silver, sparkling under the light. Out on the lake, Sunset could see, a little way off so that they seemed small in her eyes, Jaune and Pyrrha in a rowing boat. Pyrrha was rowing, leaning forwards and then backwards in a practiced motion as she drove the oars through the water, while Jaune sat at the other end of the boat with a guitar in his hands, playing something that Sunset was too far off to catch more than the faint strains of.

As Sunset watched, Pyrrha stopped rowing, letting her devote her full attention to Jaune and his music.

“They make a cute pair, don’t they?”

Sunset started a little, looking around behind her to see Miranda Wells approaching, dressed in a loose-fitting floral-pattern dress and a big, floppy summer hat that fell down over her face, casting a shadow over it and over the hair that fell down across her shoulders.

Miranda smiled. “Should it be that easy to sneak up on a huntress?”

“Some huntresses, you wouldn’t be able to sneak up on,” Sunset said, “but I’m one of the ones who needs to see their enemy coming.” She paused. “But the answer to your question is yes, they do make a very cute pair.” She glanced at the easel that Miranda was carrying in one hand, as well as the satchel slung across her other shoulder. “Are you going to be doing a spot of painting?”

“Yes,” Miranda said. “I’m not that good, but I’ve always enjoyed it, and I’m certainly not bad either.” She paused. “I’m going to paint the lake, not Jaune and Pyrrha … although, if they stay out there, I might put them in the picture as well. After all—”

“They make a cute pair,” Sunset said, a smile playing across her lips.

“Exactly,” Miranda agreed. “And you can’t go wrong putting a lady in a dress and her handsome beau in the centre of a painting.”

“Some modern artists might disagree,” Sunset muttered.

Miranda snorted. “Okay, yes, you’ve got a point. But my style has always tended towards the traditional.”

Sunset nodded. She was silent for a moment, and for more than a moment as Miranda started to set up her easel by the shore of the lake.

Sunset folded her arms. “How … how have you been?”

Miranda stopped what she was doing. She remained frozen, bent down in the act of fiddling with her easel. “I … there are good days and bad days. There are days when I feel fine, and there are other days when … I don’t. But I think … I think that there are more good days than bad days, lately. I think. There are more good days, and more good nights when I don’t dream of … that thing.”

Sunset nodded but said nothing. There was very little she could say.

Very little that she had the right to say.

“I think,” Miranda went on, “I think that Pearl … she wouldn’t want me to fall apart, you know? She wouldn’t want me to run back home and hide in my room and never come out. She wouldn’t want me to … this sounds stupid; I mean, she’s dead, it doesn’t matter what she would have wanted. But it’s like … it’s like I can hear voice in my ear, telling me ‘get up, girl, get off your ass!’” She closed her eyes, even as she straightened up. “She gave her life to save mine,” she declared. “She sacrificed herself so that I could get away, that … I need to honour that.”

Sunset chewed on her lower lip. “So … what are you going to do?”

Miranda laughed. “I haven’t quite worked that part out just yet, but … it’ll come. I’m sure it will.”

“I … I’m sure it will too,” Sunset murmured.

Miranda glanced at her. “So, what about you, what brings you out here? Keeping an eye on your team?”

Sunset laughed, grateful for the change of subject. “I don’t think they need it here, no; I’m looking into Jaune’s family history.”

“'Jaune’s family history'?” Miranda repeated. “Why … just why?”

“Because I promised Pyrrha’s mother that I would.”

Miranda frowned. “No, sorry, still not getting it.”

“It doesn’t really matter; it’s just something that I agreed to do.”

“Well, good luck finding out anything earlier than the founding of the town,” Miranda told her. “The folks who founded this place really wanted a fresh start.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sunset replied. “What’s that about, anyway?”

“If I could tell you that,” Miranda said, “they wouldn’t have done a very good job, would they?”

“No,” Sunset murmured. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” She paused for a moment. “I … need to go and talk to Sheriff Arc.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that’s fine,” Miranda said. “And I have stuff to do here so … good luck with your search, even if I don’t understand what you’re looking for, or why.”

Sunset turned away, feeling honestly glad to get away as she left Miranda by the lakeshore, alone, with the silver waters lapping at the bank before her, the breeze plucking at her dress.

Sunset herself made her way to the Sheriff’s office, a modern-looking brick building, painted blue on the ground floor and then white on the first floor and the roof. A pair of double doors, mostly glass, barred the way inside, but they opened at Sunset’s touch as she walked into a large, open room with a tiled floor. The back of the room was segregated off with cell bars and doors, all of them empty at present, each with an unoccupied bed, a toilet, and a washbasin; various filing cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, while doors led off the sides of the room marked ‘Gun Locker’ and ‘Evidence Locker’ respectively.

Sky was sitting behind one of the desks, the one facing the door, and she looked up as Sunset came in.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I was just hoping I could have a word.” She glanced at the occupant of the other desk, a young man with blond hair sticking up — all of it, and far too much to be called a Mohawk — on top of his head so that it added another foot to his height. “In private.”

Sky got up. “Come into the evidence locker; Sprout, holler for me if you need me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man, Sprout, said without looking up from his paperwork, or the doughnut he was eating while he pored over said paperwork.

Sky gestured in the right direction, as though the door wasn’t clearly labelled Evidence Locker; Sunset followed her inside, finding a room that was very largely empty, with only a few boxes with labels written in ink upon them and a lot of barren shelves gathering dust.

“You don’t have a lot of crime in this village, I take it?” Sunset asked, as she shut the door behind her.

“Personally, I think that’s a good thing,” Sky said. She turned to Sunset, leaning against one of the empty shelves, folding her arms. “We’re nice people in this town; we treat our neighbours well.” She paused, before saying, “So, what can I do for you?”

Sunset put her out her arm to rest it against a shelf near the door. “I was wondering if the name Crown D’Eath meant anything to you.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Deeth,’ not ‘Death’,” Sky replied. “And … yes, I know the name … that’s a bad story, that is. You found Grandpa’s journal, I take it?”

“You’ve read it?”

“Of course I have,” Sky said. “And I’ve done more than that; he was my grandfather, after all; he only passed away a few winters ago.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Of course.”

“So you know the story?”

“Does it matter?” Sky asked, frowning. “I thought you were interested in our ancestry?”

“I am,” Sunset said. “But if you’ve read your grandfather’s journal, then you’ll know that Crown D’Eath was interested in it too, and I’m pretty sure he found something out. Something that your grandfather didn’t want to hear, or didn’t want to get out, wanted Crown to keep to himself. I wondered if you knew what that something was.”

Sky smirked. “If I knew something that Grandpa didn’t want to be known, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

Sunset snorted. “That’s a fair point.”

“But as it happens, I don’t know,” Sky admitted. “Grandpa Carrot didn’t tell me. He … it was painful for him. You … do you know what Crown D’Eath did, after Beacon?”

Sunset nodded. “He killed at least two people, and then was killed himself.”

“By Grandpa Carrot,” Sky said.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know that.”

Sky nodded. “Grandpa went to Beacon, same as Dad and … same as Jaune now, but he didn’t become a huntsman. He became a cop, a watchman as they were called in those days — it was still called the City Watch back then; they didn’t become the VPD until … a little bit later, after he quit, I think. Anyway, he was a cop; it’s what inspired me to join the Sheriff’s Department here in Alba Longa. He was a cop and … and he had to kill his friend. His friend who was killing other people and who had to be stopped. Grandpa … he said that he didn’t regret it, but … it stayed with him. Killing a man, killing that man. It’s why I’m worried about Jaune.”

“Jaune’s okay,” Sunset assured her. “Professor Goodwitch — combat instructor, informal deputy headmistress — is also a trained therapist. He’s seen her. In a professional sense.”

“I’m glad,” Sky said. “I’m also horrified that my baby brother needed to see a shrink, but … I’m glad. He didn’t try and give you any crap about that, did he?”

“No,” Sunset said. “Did you think he might?”

Sky shrugged. “Men around here can be … protective of their … manhood. And Jaune, because he was made to feel like he never had much manhood — and I will own that we didn’t exactly help with that; in fact, we made it worse in some ways — he could be prickly about stuff like that. He didn’t make a fuss, say that men don’t need to talk about their problems, anything like that?”

“No,” Sunset said. “That kind of stuffing … he arrived with some of that, but he managed to get rid of it early on. Being around so many girls has cured him of it.”

“It didn’t when he lived with us,” Sky said.

“Pyrrha is a lot nicer to him than you were, I think,” Sunset said. “No offence.”

Sky glared at her for a moment, before she admitted. “You’re probably right.” She looked away and coughed once. “Anyway,” she said, “Grandpa didn’t stay in the big city long after that. He came back here, back home, became the Sheriff, married, had Dad, raised his son. That’s the way it happens with Arc men; they leave, and then they always find their way back home. Except Jaune won’t be coming back, will he?”

“Possibly, probably not,” Sunset conceded. “That’s something you’d have to ask him, although given Pyrrha’s … everything, it does seem most likely that they’ll live in Mistral. But does it matter? Does it really matter if he moves to Mistral with Pyrrha? With seven sisters, the new generation of Arcs is secure without him, surely.”

“You might think,” Sky said, without elaboration. Sunset didn’t press her; it was hardly her place to do so.

Instead, she asked, “You say that Carrot married. Did he marry Delphi, the huntress he talks about?”

Sky was silent for a second. “No,” she said. “No, he… Delphi was the huntress murdered by Crown D’Eath.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. She didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t anything polite to say to that. To have your partner murder your lover … it might have made killing him a little easier, but that probably wasn’t much consolation. No wonder Carrot Arc hadn’t wanted to stay in Vale.

“And you don’t know why he did it?” Sunset asked. “What drove him to kill?”

Sky shook his head. “Grandpa never said.”

He didn’t want Carrot dating her — or courting her, perhaps, in the old-fashioned vernacular — in the first place; they argued about it, and that’s when everything that Crown knew or thought he knew came out.

And then he killed her. Because of … what?

What secret about someone’s ancestry is worth killing for?

Red leaned forwards. “You seen that new girl in town?”

Despite the fact that it was only two in the afternoon, Ruben took a swig from his beer bottle, before putting it down upon the table at the Moon Over Water. “What new girl?” he demanded. His lip curled into a sneer. “You mean Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune’s new girlfriend.”

“No, the other one, just got in today,” Red said. “She’s got a room upstairs. Name’s Sunset Shimmer. Fine lookin’ girl. Friend of Jauney’s.”

Ruben snorted. “A 'friend of Jauney’s,'” he sneered. “This whole town is gonna fill up with friends of Jauney’s, more outsiders.” He chuckled. “He’s introduced his girlfriend to his folks; maybe now it’s the turn of his bit on the side.”

He felt a hand stroking his stubbled cheek. Jolene’s hand, turning his face towards her.

“Aww, are you jealous, sugar?” Jolene asked, a touch of mockery in her voice. She half-smiled, half-smirked at him as got up out of her seat and sat down on his lap, still stroking his face as she did so. “Am I not good enough for you no more? You want some Mistral tenderness, is that it?”

“I ain’t jealous!” Ruben snapped. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He was … he was the man in this family. He always had been. His father had worked like a dog for the Arc family, keeping their farm running while they lived all high and mighty, the famous Arcs of Alba Longa.

And he had done just the same. He worked, he did all the work, he was the one who got things done, he was the man in this family, not Jaune. Jaune had always been a snivelling little girl, playing with his sisters, reading, crying, dreaming. Ruben didn’t have dreams, Ruben didn’t run off to some school way out in Vale, Ruben didn’t turn his back on his family. Ruben stuck around, stuck it out, put up with the fact that his wife was only half a woman and couldn’t have kids, put up with the fact that his sisters-in-law looked down on him.

He put up with it, unlike Jaune, and what thanks did he get? What appreciation? None at all! Not one little bit! While Jaune, that little girl, that runaway, he showed up back home one day, and everyone loved him, everyone fawned over him, everyone thought he’d grown so much.

Yeah, he thought he was such a man now, Jaune Arc. And he had … he had a girlfriend now? A girlfriend like that? A beauty beyond compare, and rich, and famous too?

What did she see in him?

He wanted her, Pyrrha Nikos. More than for herself, he wanted to take her to show Jaune who the real man in this family still was.

Ruben had worked hard and put up with a lot on the understanding that he would inherit the estate when Old Man Arc passed away. Then he would finally be free to kick out all of his wife’s sisters to see how they liked being poor. And after that … he glanced at Jolene. She would be willing to become his wife, once he’d got Rouge out of the way, but by that point, he might want someone a little younger. Someone like Miranda Wells, now that she was back in town; she might not like it, but her parents would see the advantage to it.

Except that they might not if Old Man Arc decided that actually Jaune could be left the estate, now that he’d become a man at Beacon.

Red leaned forwards. Red Beauregard was one of his best friends, perhaps the best, a solidly built guy with short red hair, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans.

“I heard something,” he said, “listening at their door.”

“Why were you listening at their door?” Jolene asked.

“So I could hear anything worth hearing,” Red said, as though it were obvious, “and I heard that before Jaune brought his girlfriend out here, he was worried she was going to get stolen away by a real man.”

Ruben snorted. “I wish. Seems she’s only got eyes for him, though, God knows why.”

“That doesn’t need to matter though, does it?” Red said.

Ruben’s eyes narrowed. “You got somethin’ in mind?”

“It won’t solve all your problems, but it might make him cry a little bit,” Red said. He paused. “You know, Jolene, you look kind of like Pyrrha.”

“I do not look kind of like Pyrrha!” Jolene declared. “She looks kind of like me! I was here first!”

Red shrugged. “Either way,” he said. “You got flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin, and eyes like emerald green.”

“And my smile is like a breath of spring and my voice is soft like summer rain,” Jolene said, primping her hair with one hand. “My beauty is beyond compare, I know.”

It used to be, Ruben thought. She was still pretty enough — and prettier than his wife, that was for sure — but she was starting to get old now; she was past thirty already, and it was taking its toll on her.

“What’s your point, anyway?” Jolene asked.

“The point is that we tell Jaune that Pyrrha is cheating on him,” Red said.

“But she ain’t,” Jolene pointed out.

“Yeah, but he’ll believe it 'cause he was already scared of it,” Red insisted. “Then, you show him some pictures that we’re going to take of me, making out with Jolene, dressed like Pyrrha—”

“Is this whole plan just to give you an excuse to kiss me?” Jolene demanded.

Red’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Would you blame me if it was?”

“Not at all,” Jolene said.

“But it’ll work,” Red insisted. “He might even cry. He’ll definitely call her out, maybe in front of the whole family. He might not want to go back to Beacon after all; he’ll just hang around home reminding everybody how useless he is.”

“It’ll be worth it just to make him sad,” Ruben declared. “Are you okay with this Jolene?”

Jolene sighed. “Sure. Why not? Anything for you, sugar.”

“Well, okay then,” Ruben said. “Let’s break up the happy couple.”

Author's Note

If you've read Terry Pratchett's Men at Arms, you can probably see where this is going.

If you haven't read it yet, you should.

No updates on Wednesday or Friday as I won't be around to post them, the next chapter will be up on Monday 19th September.

Feeling Feelings (New)

Feeling Feelings

“So,” Pyrrha asked, “have you found out anything interesting so far?”

Sunset smiled at her. “I’m surprised you’re interested, to be honest. I thought you didn’t care.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I don’t need Jaune to be a lord or … the lost heir to the throne of Vale in order to love him,” she said, wrapping her hands around Jaune’s arm as she spoke. “But if you’ve found out anything — anything at all — interesting about Jaune’s background … how could I not be interested to know?”

Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha were sitting on the porch of the Arc family home, shielded from the sun by the overhanging veranda. Jaune and Pyrrha sat together upon a porch swing, held up by chains attached to the roof above, swaying gently back and forth as they both looked at Sunset. Sunset, for her part, had to be content with a rocking chair, which she was struggling to control; she didn’t want to rock back and forth, but she couldn’t get the thing to stay completely still. She was going to have to stand up at this rate.

Sunset nodded, rocking forwards a little as she did so. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t found anything yet, and honestly, I don’t have much hope of finding anything here.” She glanced at Jaune. “Something that I suspect you knew before I came down here.”

“I told you—”

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” Sunset preemptively corrected him. “You didn’t tell me that there was nothing to find, that there was deliberately nothing to find.”

“'Deliberately'?” Pyrrha repeated. “What do you mean?”

Jaune shrugged. “There … there is nothing before my great-great-grandfather and the founding of the town. Everything before that is…”

“Non-existent,” Sunset said. “And, it seems, purposefully so.”

Pyrrha frowned. “I … I don’t understand. You’re suggesting that—”

“Nobody set out to lie or keep anything secret,” Jaune said.

Well, I don’t know about that, Sunset said, thinking about Crown D’Eath and Carrot Arc.

“But,” Jaune went on, “people, my ancestors, the folks who founded this town … it seems like they wanted a fresh start. They didn’t want whatever they had been before to follow them here. They only wanted the futures that they would make for themselves. So … they didn’t talk about their pasts. At all. My great-great-grandfather might as well have sprung up out of the ground fully-formed. About the only thing that he had that tied him to his past was Crocea Mors … and I broke it.”

He looked down into his lap, as though the shards of the sword could be found there.

“I’m not sure a man who denied his past and talked about the future belonging to him would care about the breaking of an old antique,” Sunset murmured. “He’d probably tell you to get on with forging it anew and make something that you could carry into the future that belonged to you.”

Jaune looked up at her. “You think so?”

“I didn’t know the man,” Sunset admitted, “but it seems like him. And I didn’t know your grandfather either, but … Sky told me his story. How he couldn’t save his Mistralian love. I think, I hope, that if he were here, he’d tell you to be glad you had a broken sword and a living girlfriend, instead of the other way around.”

He did not look at her, but Jaune’s right hand reached up and touched Pyrrha’s hand where she held his arm.

“You’re right,” Jaune said. “That is what he’d say. I hope that's what he’d say. I didn’t actually know my grandpa very well; he was … I looked up to him, he was the kind of hero that I wanted to become, but at the same time … he scared me a little bit. I was afraid to try and get too close to him because … because I didn’t think I measured up.” He paused. “I…”

“Don’t say it,” Pyrrha told him.

Jaune looked at her. “Huh?”

“At some point this year, you’ve saved all three of our lives,” Pyrrha said. “Ruby and Sunset by healing their injuries, mine by giving me breathing room against Cinder when I needed it. Without you … if that isn’t something to be proud of, to set against the noble deeds of your ancestors, then I know not what is.” She paused. “But, I must say, I am surprised by what you’ve told me about your lack of family history. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I know it doesn’t matter. But at the same time, I must admit that I am baffled by the decision of your great-great-grandfather. I can’t imagine not drawing strength from the example of those who came before you; not only that, but denying those who come after the opportunity to do the same. It’s … vandalism.”

“My family isn’t yours, Pyrrha,” Jaune reminded her. “It might not be that there was much of anything to remember.”

It might be darker than that, Sunset thought, but did not give voice to the thought. It hardly seemed the time or the place to suggest such a thing, in the midst of Jaune’s own home, when Jaune and Pyrrha had had a good time here so far. No, not the time or the place at all.

“I suppose so,” Pyrrha murmured, “but this goes beyond forgetting, as might happen, and into wilful neglect, and that … it is a mystery to me that someone would wish to go to such lengths to erase their family history.” She glanced at Sunset. “What will you do now? What will you tell my mother?”

“I will apologise to Lady Nikos and ask for more time,” Sunset told her.

“Time for what?” Pyrrha asked. “If there is nothing here—”

“It does not follow that there is nothing anywhere,” Sunset reminded her, “and I know for a fact that there is something elsewhere, because someone else has walked this path before me, in Jaune’s grandfather’s time.”

“Really?” Jaune asked. “What did they find?”

“If I knew that,” Sunset said, allowing just a touch of tartness to enter her tone, “I wouldn’t need to retrace their steps; it would just be there. I know that they found something, and that it excited them, but I don’t know what it was.”

“It seems odd that their reaction survives, but not the discovery that prompted it,” Pyrrha pointed out.

That was very true, but to avoid saying that Jaune’s grandfather had fought to have the discovery covered up, Sunset simply said, “These things happen sometimes. Anyway,” she said, leaning forwards — and then rocking backwards so far her feet left the ground. “Oh, for Celestia’s—” Sunset leapt up and pushed the rocking chair backwards so that it didn’t get in her way. She moved around to stand directly in front of Jaune and Pyrrha, her gloved hands resting upon the wooden railing of the porch. She cleared her throat. “Anyway—” she began.

“Sunset, look out!” Jaune cried.

“What—?” Sunset looked around, wondering what had prompted his sudden cry, only to see a goat that had snuck up on her and was about to start chewing on her sleeve. “Ah!” Sunset cried, raising her arms above her head and sidling away from the animal. “No! Go away!”

The goat made a noise that sounded a lot like a staccato laugh and followed her, trying to stick its head through the bars of the porch rail to get at the edge of her jacket.

“Get you gone!” Sunset snapped. She pointed her fingers at it. “Go away right now, or I shall turn you into a newt, so help me! Go!”

A bolt of magic leapt from her fingertips to strike the ground just beside the goat, which turned and ran from the miniature explosion and the crater in the soil.

Sunset tugged upon her jacket with both hands. “I don’t know how you’ve survived this place, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. “I’ve been very lucky, I suppose, that nothing like that has happened to me.”

“Lucky you indeed,” Sunset muttered. “But then, I was never much of a countryside girl.” She resumed her prior place leaning on the porch, half sitting upon it, facing Jaune and Pyrrha. “So,” she said, “as I was saying: how has it been?”

The two of them looked at one another, but neither said anything.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Don’t everyone jump in at once.”

Pyrrha laughed. “I’m not sure what you want us to say, Sunset.”

“There must be something you can tell me!” Sunset cried. “What’s happened, how are they treating you, what’s it like—?”

“You can find that out for yourself when you meet everyone for dinner tonight,” Jaune said.

“Am I invited?”

“Yeah, you didn’t think we were just going to let you eat alone at the Moon, did you?”

“I hardly knew, you only invited me just now,” Sunset replied. “How’s the food?” she asked Pyrrha.

“Exquisite,” Pyrrha assured her. “Jaune gets his cooking skill from his mother, clearly.”

“Ooh,” Sunset murmured, a smile upon her face. “Got that to look forward to, then. I suppose none of them will be too surprised that I came up empty in my search.”

“None of them mentioned it when they found out you were coming,” Pyrrha said.

“Perhaps they didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Sunset replied. “Anyone that I should … be wary of?”

“Why would you ask that?” asked Jaune.

“Because you said ‘nearly everyone’ before you corrected yourself,” Sunset reminded him, “and I want to know what that’s about.”

Jaune shifted uncomfortably upon the porch swing.

“Jaune’s brother-in-law, Ruben, has not always … been as courteous as one might like,” Pyrrha murmured. “He … it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Sunset inquired. “What’s he said? What’s he done, for that matter?”

Now it was Pyrrha’s turn to fall silent, to refuse to speak; she looked at Jaune, but she did not answer Sunset’s question.

At least, not at first; it became clear watching her — watching her watching Jaune — that she was waiting for him to say something. When he did not, Pyrrha prompted him, “Jaune… did Ruben bully you when you were younger?”

Jaune took a few seconds to mumble, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so, a little bit.”

“And now?” Sunset asked.

“He delights in attempting to put Jaune down and seems pained by any acknowledgement of Jaune’s accomplishment or skill,” Pyrrha said. “The saving grace being that so many in this house seem to find him impossible to bear. I must confess, I do wonder why Rouge ever married him. There seems … little affection between the two of them.”

Jaune sighed. “Ruben … Ruben’s dad works for my Dad. He runs the farm for Dad; he works our land. So our families have always been close. Ruben was always around. He was older than me, he was bigger and stronger than me … he was more of a man than I was. Dad … needed someone to take over the estate from him, and it was clear that I wasn’t going to cut it … Ruben … made sense.”

“So he married the eldest daughter to seal the deal?” Sunset asked. “That sounds about as old-fashioned as anything that might go on in Mistral.”

“Such a match as my mother might have wished and intended,” Pyrrha said softly, “but I had the freedom to say no. Had Rouge—”

“I don’t know what Rouge thought,” Jaune admitted. “I was too young to know. Maybe she did love him once. I don’t know. I’m not sure that we should be talking about it — about her — like this.”

“Yes, of course, this is most improper,” Pyrrha said. “Forgive me.”

He smiled at her. “It’s okay. I just… let’s just leave it there. Ruben can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he’s harmless, and he has been good to this family, mostly. Just … he might say something at dinner, but … try not to flip out on him, okay?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he likely to say that I should ‘flip out’?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “But you can sometimes … fly off the handle about things.”

“I do not fly off the handle; I get righteously angry at things that it is righteous to be angry about,” Sunset insisted. “If he feels my anger, it will be because he gave me cause.”

“I’d still rather he didn’t,” Jaune said. “Considering that this is my home, and my family.”

“I’m not going to promise to just sit there and take everything,” Sunset declared.

“You would if Lady Nikos asked you to,” Jaune pointed out.

Sunset folded her arms. “Lady Nikos,” she said, “would understand that there are some insults that I should not be asked to put up with.” She paused. “But, as this is your home, and your family, and as we do wish Pyrrha to make a good impression … I will endeavour to show a greater than usual restraint … up to a point.”

“Thanks,” Jaune said. “I mean that. Whatever else he is, he’s still my brother-in-law, after all.”

“Thank you, Sunset,” Pyrrha agreed.

“You’re welcome,” Sunset said. “How long are you two planning on staying here, by the way?”

“How about you?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t see much point in hanging around,” Sunset told him. “As I said, there’s nothing to learn here, intentionally so. Although, having said that, I will say that there’s a lot to be proud of in the ancestors that you do know about. They were impressive people, wherever your great-great-grandfather came from.”

“Maybe you can tell me more about them,” Pyrrha suggested to Jaune.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Jaune agreed. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested.”

“And what in Remnant would make you think that I wouldn’t be interested in your family history?” Pyrrha asked.

“That’s a good point,” Jaune conceded. “But, to get back to it, I think we’ll probably go back with you. My Dad’s party is over; that’s why we came back, we can’t hang around here forever. I’ll tell Mom and Dad that we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, then,” she said. “That’s good to hear. When we get back, you should look at getting your sword reforged. Any ideas?”

Jaune shook his head. “Not really?”

“Never mind, I’m sure that Ruby will have a few,” Sunset said. She blinked. “Seriously, there’s nothing you can tell me? What have you been doing here for the last few days?”

“There really isn’t much to tell,” Jaune insisted. “I worked things out with my folks and my sisters, Pyrrha … everybody got on board with Pyrrha and I being together in the end—”

“Almost everybody,” Sunset corrected him.

Jaune laughed lightly. “Yeah, okay, almost everybody,” he admitted. “I found out that one of my sisters is having a baby…”

“I met Jaune’s nephew,” Pyrrha added. “He’s very cute.”

“Is he now?” Sunset murmured.

She’d never really had time for children. Princess Celestia had tried to get her to do some foalsitting like Cadance, but aside from the fact that Sunset wasn’t really interested in doing anything that precious Princess Cadance had done first — she was her own mare; she followed in nopony’s footsteps — there was also the fact that she just hadn’t really liked fillies and colts. They were demanding, they were noisy, they didn’t do as they were told, and if you made them, then everypony acted as though you were the problem. She’d tried it once, for Princess Celestia’s sake, and … while she hadn’t done a bad job on purpose, she hadn’t been sorry to not be asked back.

It didn’t seem as though Pyrrha had had that problem.

“Yes, he is,” Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. “So, you’re not planning to do any more work this afternoon?”

“Is there any more work for me to do?” Sunset replied. “I’d do it, if I thought that I’d find anything, but it seems as though this town was intentionally constructed as a dead end for this investigation.”

“Then, will you excuse us for a little while, Jaune?” Pyrrha asked.

Jaune looked surprised. “Yeah, sure, but why?”

“It seems that this might be a good opportunity to start training Sunset’s semblance,” Pyrrha explained. “Where nothing is going to come up and get in the way.”

“Well … that’s true enough, I suppose, but here?” Sunset asked. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather that I excused the two of you?”

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “I’ve had Pyrrha almost all to myself since we got here.”

Pyrrha smiled and leaned forwards to kiss him on the cheek. “We won’t be long,” she assured him as she got to her feet, smoothing her skirt out with both hands.

“Are you expecting me to pick this up quickly?” Sunset asked.

“No, but there’s no point in overdoing things on the first lesson,” Pyrrha replied. “Since you won’t master everything right away, why try to force yourself?”

“I suppose,” Sunset muttered. She preferred to force herself, to drive herself hard, but it takes two to teach a lesson, and if Pyrrha wanted to take a more relaxed, Celestia-like approach to instruction, then Sunset was in little position to contradict her on the point.

Especially since Pyrrha was doing her a favour here, and even moreso, given where they were now.

“We’ll use Kendal’s room; I don’t think that she’s in there,” Pyrrha said, as she turned to lead the way inside the house. Her feet were hidden beneath her full-length skirt, but Sunset could hear her heels tapping upon the wooden boards regardless.

Sunset followed her inside the house, trailing behind her down a wooden corridor and into a dining room, where the table was bare and not set for any meal. Upon one of the walls was an array of photographs, all of them framed in varnished wood, and Sunset found herself drawn to the wall, to the picture of multitudinous Arcs who grew up before her eyes from little girls to grown women. Her eyes lingered for a moment upon a picture of Team SAPR and Blake, standing together in front of the Emerald Tower of Beacon, arms linked together across one another’s shoulders, leaning in and smiling.

You could tell that this had been taken before Mountain Glenn because they were all smiling.

But Jaune and Pyrrha, at least, could still smile so brightly now, she thought; could Blake? Could Ruby? Was it only her who could not?

I can smile.

But can I smile like that? I know not.

Pyrrha turned at the foot of the stairs to see Sunset lingering, looking at the pictures. She, herself, drifted back to Sunset’s side.

“That one was taken at Mister Arc’s birthday party,” she said, pointing to a picture set about two thirds of the way up the wall.

Sunset’s eyes followed Pyrrha’s outstretched hand and pointed finger. She was pointing to a picture of a large group, mostly women, all gathered around a middle-aged pair that she took to be Jaune’s parents. Both had gone a little plump with age, a little soft around the middle, but in neither case egregiously so. His suit and her dress still fit them very well.

A gaggle of women — Jaune’s sisters, clearly — stood grouped around the parental couple, some of them leaning in to get in frame, some of them half-doubled over to make sure that everyone could be seen. Jaune, by contrast, was standing near the back, and so was Pyrrha, who was wearing the most delighted smile upon her face that it popped out of the picture and the frame to illuminate the room.

Sunset found herself smiling too. “You look like you were having a good time.”

“I hadn’t expected to be asked,” Pyrrha admitted. “To join the picture, I mean. Chester and Ruben are married to River and Rouge but I’m just—”

“The love of his life?” Sunset suggested.

“His girlfriend,” Pyrrha replied. “Jaune could dump me tomorrow—”

“But he won’t, because you’re the love of his life,” Sunset reminded her, “and I’m guessing they invited you to join their picture because they recognise that too. That, and it seems that you made a good impression.” She grinned. “You really did well here, didn’t you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I think that to a certain extent, I … disapproved of Jaune’s parents more than they disapproved of me.”

“Why?” Sunset asked. “Are they crude and boorish?”

“No,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Not that, for the fact that they allowed Jaune to come to Beacon so completely unprepared, without his aura unlocked.”

“Oh, right, that,” Sunset said. “From what I understand, that word ‘allowed’ is doing some significant heavy lifting, I must say.”

“You know what I mean,” Pyrrha said. “If Jaune had been trained—”

“If Jaune had been trained, you wouldn’t have had to save his life,” Sunset pointed out. “If Jaune had been trained … think about how he acted when he came to Beacon; if Jaune had been trained, he would have been Cardin Winchester without quite so much muscle. Arrogant, full of himself, jealous of anyone who threatened his sense of superiority.” She paused. “So, me, basically, without my stunning good looks.” She patted her long, fiery hair with one hand.

Pyrrha laughed. “Even so, grateful as I am, much as I love him … if, by giving him up, I could give him all the strength he needed to achieve his dreams, then I would do it.”

“Always assuming, of course, that you have not become his new dream,” Sunset pointed out.

Sunset wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Pyrrha became even redder in the face. “I… I am so very lucky. I don’t know how I did it.”

“Arc men fall hard and fast, it seems,” Sunset replied.

“You’re talking about his ancestors?”

“I read a little about Jaune’s grandfather. He fell for a beautiful Mistralian student as well.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “What happened? Did they live … happily ever after?”

“Uh … no,” Sunset admitted, rather wishing now that she hadn’t brought the subject up. “She … she died, in the line of duty.”

What an odd phrase that, ‘in the line of duty.’ It is used as though it should ameliorate sorrow. They died, but in the line of duty, so that makes it alright. That makes it better than an ordinary death. That makes it bearable, tolerable, not so worth being sad over.

I wonder if that’s ever worked? I wonder if it has ever truly ameliorated. ‘In the line of duty, you say? Well, why didn’t you say so before; I shall stop crying at once.’ And yes, I know that’s an exaggeration, but even so. Has it ever really made anyone feel better, to know that their loved one died in the line of duty?

Ruby, possibly.

Even so, a strange phrase.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

“Mmm?” Sunset replied. “Sorry, did I space out there?”

“For a second, yes,” Pyrrha said. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Sunset said quickly. “Yes, everything’s fine, I …” She looked at the picture again. “Is Jaune wearing a gold suit?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, a smile playing across her lips. Not a smile of mockery at Jaune’s embarrassment, a genuine smile, bright and lustrous. “Doesn’t he look handsome in it?”

“I can hardly tell, the way that his height has forced him to the back of the shot,” Sunset murmured. “And anyway, it’s gold.”

“And what of that?” Pyrrha asked. “Why shouldn’t he wear a gold suit?”

“Because…” Sunset trailed off.

It was true that, in Equestria, nopony would dream of wearing such a thing — bright colours were the province of mares; stallions were expected to be far more drab and conservative in their attire — but this was not Equestria. Yet, at the same time, she had observed that much the same standards applied here in Remnant, at least in the kingdoms that she had … well, in Vale and Atlas at least; in Mistral … it varied, although even there, Valish and Atlesian styles and the accompanying lack of colour were making headway. But, faced with Pyrrha’s question, there was no actual reason why it should be so. No reason why Jaune should not wear a gold suit, if he wished.

“I…” Sunset shrugged. “I don’t know, really; I suppose that I was just surprised. I didn’t even know he had anything like that.”

“He doesn’t,” Pyrrha explained. “The suit belonged to Jaune’s father.” She leaned forwards to whisper conspiratorially in Sunset’s ear. “It was his wedding suit.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You are doing well, aren’t you? Was that deliberate?”

Pyrrha let out a sort of awkward, halting laugh. “I … I haven’t had the heart to ask. That probably had nothing to do with it, but … a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“You certainly can,” Sunset told her. “Although you scarcely need to. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that Jaune had proposed since I saw you both last.”

“Not quite,” Pyrrha said, with a little laugh. “Although we did find time to talk … about our future. Where we’ll live and what we’ll do and … children.”

“'Children'?” Sunset repeated. “You … you are truly fortunate, to have found a man who is willing to … to entertain such things so early. Who is not content, desirous even, merely to mess around, however you might wish for more.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “Believe me, I know.”

“One thing that I do regret,” Sunset said, glancing up at the photograph once again, “is that I can hardly see any of your dress with the way that you're in the back with Jaune, hidden behind his sisters.”

“It’s up in my room,” Pyrrha pointed out. “I can show you, if you like.”

“That would be nice, before you start trying to help me manage my semblance,” Sunset said.

“It’s up this way,” Pyrrha said, and once again, she turned from the pictures on the wall and left Sunset to follow her to and then up the stairs to the first floor of the house. A long corridor awaited them there, lined with doors, but Pyrrha did not lead Sunset very far along the corridor before stopping in front of a door proclaiming that this was Kendal’s room and that intruders should keep out.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha pushed open the door, revealing that there was, all things considered, very little need for privacy beyond the general desire for the same, considering how sparse the room was — although that might have simply been because it was so small. The bed on one side and the camp bed on the other took up most of the available space, and when you added in the desk facing the window … it was less of a room and more of a corridor between three points.

“Is this where you’ve been staying?” Sunset asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Kendal has been very obliging.”

“I am amazed that you were able to get dressed into some of your gowns in here,” Sunset declared. “Where was the room?”

“I made do,” Pyrrha said.

“Couldn’t they have found you anywhere with a little more space to stay?”

“I think they thought that I would get on with Kendal,” Pyrrha replied, “and I have. She’s in the Survey Corps, so she was a little more welcoming than some of Jaune’s sisters, at first.”

“That is … a dangerous road to travel,” Sunset said. “Not least because there are no roads where she walks.” She paused. “In some ways, you might say that it is a more dangerous road than Jaune’s.”

“Or any of ours,” Pyrrha pointed out. “But yes, I take your meaning. We, at least, have weapons and training … and one another. And our semblances, once we have mastered them.”

Sunset laughed. “I’m not stalling, I assure you,” she insisted. “Although I will stall for just a mite longer and point out that you promised to show me your dress from the party.”

“So I did,” Pyrrha conceded. She turned towards the bed, upon which sat her case containing her clothes. She looked down, taking out the green dress that she had worn to come down here from Beacon. Sunset saw her frown down at the case. “That’s odd.”

“What?” Sunset asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, precisely, but … my red dress and bolero, I can’t see it,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You do have a lot of dresses in there,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know, but it was near the top; I’m sure it was,” Pyrrha said, beginning to lift up the clothing in her case to peer underneath it. “And I can’t see it anywhere.”

“If someone has stolen some of your clothes, that seems a little more than nothing,” Sunset observed.

“I … I’m sure it will turn up somewhere,” Pyrrha said. “Perhaps I … misplaced it somewhere. In any case, it’s only a dress. Not worth making a fuss about. Anyway,” — she pulled a stunning gown of gold out of her case, holding it up in front of herself — “this is what I wore to the dance.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “That … that is stunning,” she said as she took in all the flowers and pearls stitched into the bodice and the skirt. The way that they were sewn into the chest, in particular, they looked like they were bursting out of her.

Flowers springing from the grave.

Sunset blinked. Where had that thought come from? Too much thought of Delphi, the lost love of Carrot Arc, most like. An uncomfortable thought, a thought to be rid of.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m fine,” Sunset assured her. “I am … mine eyes are dazzled by the sight of your gown.”

Pyrrha smiled. “It is lovely, isn’t it? And it complemented Jaune’s suit so well, what a fortunate coincidence.”

“Fate smiled on you,” Sunset said. “Save that you do not believe in fate.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I do not.” She put the dress back, neatly, in such a way that it would not crease. “My destiny is in my choosing.”

She sat down upon the bed, moving her case a little to make room for her. She clasped her hands together, resting her elbows upon her knees, and sighed.

“What is the matter?” Sunset asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing is the matter.”

“Then why do you seem sad?” asked Sunset, squatting down upon the floor in front of Pyrrha. “Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?”

“My joy is still within my heart, I assure you,” Pyrrha said, “but the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…”

Sunset gave her a chance to say on, but she did not avail herself of it. “Reminds you what?” she prompted. “Reminds you of what, perhaps?”

“Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was,” Pyrrha confessed. “I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?”

Sunset nodded, and a smile pricked at the corners of her mouth. “We are none of us so young and certain as we were then.”

“No, indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “But do you remember what I said to you, that day, about my … my destiny?”

Sunset snorted. “You meant to save the world.”

“To protect it, yes,” Pyrrha said. “It seems very arrogant to hear it repeated back at me thus, as proud as ever my mother was — more. It’s … it’s rather funny, really, that I have complained at the way that I am put upon a pedestal, but arguably, I have put myself upon the greatest pedestal of all: Pyrrha Nikos, defender of the world.”

“An ambition worthy of your royal race,” Sunset said.

“And what is my royal race worth, in this contest in which we are engaged?” Pyrrha asked of her. “I thought to protect the world as a huntress, but what is a huntress worth in this contest in which we are engaged? I have not your magic, nor Ruby’s eyes.”

“You have your spear—”

“And what is a spear against Salem?”

“What are any of our several powers against Salem? She is invulnerable, and just as invulnerable against my magic as against your weapons,” Sunset replied. “Professor Ozpin spoke with Ruby, on the day you left Vale for this place.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I know.”

“He told her—”

“Are you sure that you should be breaking this confidence to me?”

“Ruby will tell you all when you meet her next,” Sunset assured her.

“Nevertheless, is it not Ruby’s tale to tell?”

“I wish only to say one brief thing,” Sunset said, upon the verge of snapping but not quite doing so. She took pause. “Professor Ozpin despatched Team Stark against Salem directly. He thought, he hoped, that the silver eyes of Summer Rose, though they could not destroy Salem, might turn into stone and trap her harmlessly for all eternity. Suffice to say, it did not work.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “Ought this to bring me comfort?” she asked.

Sunset laughed, and Pyrrha laughed too, and for a moment, the sound of their laughter chased all thoughts of Salem and war and the great struggle in which they were engaged from this room, from Alba Longa, from the world in which they dwelt.

But then the laughter died, and all dark thoughts crowded in once more, despite the brightness of the day beyond, casting their shadows on the walls, shadows that reached for the two huntresses in the narrow room, laying their dark hands upon Pyrrha’s fair skin, running their fingers through Sunset’s fiery hair.

“No,” Sunset said. “No, it was not, merely to make you see … you have no need to be ashamed of what you are. You are no more inadequate to this task than any of us, than any of Professor Ozpin’s servants have ever been. You are yet a champion amongst us.” She paused. “Is it fear, then, that makes you sad?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “Although it does not help. No, if I could be certain of my destiny, then perhaps … no, I think I would yet … it is not the fear of whether I can fulfil my destiny, rather … I am uncertain if I now desire it.”

Sunset looked into Pyrrha’s vivid green eyes. “You … wish for something else?”

“I know not,” Pyrrha said. “Not for certain. Perhaps, I fear that it may be, I know it is, and I delight it is, I know not. I am … my heart is … I am adrift. Adrift, without so much as a light to guide me back to shore.”

“May I not be your light?” Sunset asked. “What is this doubt?”

Pyrrha smiled, thought it was a sad smile, touched by frost. She sighed. “What else,” she asked, “but Jaune? But love?”

“What else is love but the death of duty?” Sunset whispered.

“Perhaps the death of destiny,” Pyrrha suggested. “I did not expect, I never … coming to Beacon, I hoped for friendship, but this, but love? Wherefore should I have hoped for love, and yet, now love holds me prisoner; it chains me.”

“All prisoners should rejoice to be so chained,” Sunset pointed out.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha conceded. “Indeed, and yet … what if my love overbears my sense of duty? What if that prospect does not trouble me?”

“If it troubled you not, then we would not be having this conversation,” Sunset pointed out. “What would you have, if your heart could have its way?”

“I do not know!” Pyrrha cried. “If I knew that, then we would also not be having this conversation, no?”

Sunset let out a little bark of laughter. “Touché. Yet nevertheless … is it not the case that you want all and do not believe that you can possess it? Love and heroism—”

“And victory?” Pyrrha asked. “That, at least, we cannot have.”

“No,” admitted Sunset. “But then, that was always the most arrogant part of your ambitions.” She smiled, to show there was no malice in it. “Have you spoken to Jaune about this?”

“No.”

“Have you considered that you should?”

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is not so burdened,” Pyrrha declared. “If I told him that … if I confessed to him that … if he knew that a part of me would like nothing more than to surrender this struggle for a life with him … I don’t want him to think that I’m emotionally blackmailing him, playing upon his feelings to get that which I desire.”

Sunset stood up. “Is that what you desire? To leave?”

“Not very heroic, I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Not worthy of the spirit of The Mistraliad. Ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid, and yet … and yet, being away from this war, they will not come upon us near so swiftly. But, to your question … have we not established that I know not what I desire?”

“True,” Sunset answered. “That, at least, I will concede closes off other routes, but beyond that … you can be hero and lover both, can you not? Are you not already? Have Jaune and destiny. Your namesake had Camilla, after all; I do not see why you cannot have Jaune.”

Pyrrha looked at her. “All my foolish fears so simply resolved?”

“Not so simple if you decide that you want out,” Sunset replied. “But, for the rest, I see no reason why you cannot have it all. If any deserved to have all, after all, it is you. And any other choice … you will have to speak to Jaune about it. If you do not wish to speak to Jaune … keep as you are. Put fear and sadness and fate and destiny and all such weighty matters to one side.

“We may not be able to defeat Salem, but we have scotched her plans, thwarted her, and though it was not without cost … it will be some time before her shadow can fall on Vale again. Rainbow said so, and I think … I have come to think that she is right, or why else should we have time to visit with Jaune’s family, to amuse ourselves with the Vytal Festival? We have passed through our trial; let us speak, let us think, only good things today, and for many days hereafter.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Only good things,” she said.

“Even so,” Sunset said. “Good things … and wise things, touching upon semblance.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said, her voice lightening. “Indeed, I have not forgotten. Sit down.”

Sunset crouched down once more before her.

“A seat on the other bed might serve you better,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“On someone else’s bed?” Sunset asked. “No, I’ll be fine here.”

“Then you will also need to take off your gloves.”

Sunset frowned ever so slightly. “Are you going to have me … would you have me use my semblance on you?”

“Is there a better way to train than use?” Pyrrha asked. “If you touch me, then you will feel—”

“Feel as you do and see your memories,” Sunset said.

“Then what I want,” Pyrrha said, “is for you to try and find a specific memory. The memory … of the day that we arrived in Mistral. A memory that is also your memory will hopefully be easier to find.”

“Provided I don’t get mine and yours mixed up,” Sunset replied. “You … you trust me with this? To feel what you feel, to see what you have seen?”

“Do you not already feel what I feel?” Pyrrha asked. “Do I not unburden myself to you as to none other, not even Jaune?”

Sunset’s mouth opened and then closed again. “I … nevertheless, I am touched by your trust, and all for my sake too.”

She shrugged off her jacket, and her hands glowed with the green light of her magic as she telekinetically unbuckled her vambraces and lowered them down gently to the floor.

Then she pulled off her gloves and looked down at her bare hands.

Sunset looked at Pyrrha. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“What have I to be afraid of?” Pyrrha asked. “What secrets have I from you?”

I don’t know, but I have some from you, Sunset thought. I suppose I should be glad this process only works one way.

She took a deep breath, and then another. She looked at Pyrrha’s outstretched hands, held out to her as if in offered benediction.

She did not take them. She looked at them, but shrank from touching them.

Come on, it was always going to come to this sooner or later. This was what asking her to help you was going to involve.

Sunset reached out and placed her hands in Pyrrha’s palms. She felt a jolt of energy shoot through her, her vision was consumed by a bright light, and then—

She was in Kendal’s room again?

Yes. Yes, it was, this narrow room where too many beds took up too much space, with Pyrrha sitting on the camp bed—

And Sunset squatting on the floor opposite her.

Ah, okay. The memory closest to Pyrrha’s thoughts was all of seconds ago. Makes sense.

But I need to get somewhere else. Our arrival in Mistral … how did I do this with Cinder? I … I wanted to know. I wanted to know so badly what had driven her to lie to me, to betray me.

“Then why do you seem sad?” asked the memory of Sunset. “Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?”

But how can I feel curious about something that I remember myself? How do I feel curious about Pyrrha when I know her so well?

“My joy is still within my heart, I assure you,” Pyrrha said. “But the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…”

Sunset turned away, not needing to hear this again so soon, but she was unable to stop her ears against the words spoken by her memory-self. “Reminds you what? Reminds you of what, perhaps?”

“Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was,” Pyrrha confessed. “I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?”

The world changed. Kendal’s room dissolved, and in its place … there was the rooftop, at Beacon, a world away from Alba Longa, the narrow room replaced by the black roof with its view looking out across the expanse of Vale. Pyrrha had exchanged her dress for her cuirass of bronze and leather, for the greaves and cuisses that covered her legs. The wind flicked at her hair, and at Sunset’s too, as they sat together, with the sunlight bright upon them.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

This was a happy memory for Sunset, but from what she could feel from Pyrrha … she felt sadness. She could not think why this memory of this day should make her sad, but she could only imagine that all that had come after, the things that they had talked about in Kendal’s room, they had covered over whatever she had felt — and Sunset, for her part, had felt quite content, more content than she had felt since coming to Beacon — like treacle poured over a dessert or winter snow stealing across the land.

Sunset felt that sadness now, not weeping sadness, not sadness to make her cry, so perhaps not sadness at all, rather say, melancholy.

“My destiny, the destiny I choose, the destiny I came here searching for … is to protect the world."

And then the Beacon rooftop, too, receded, disappearing, replaced by Lady Nikos’ study, at her home in Mistral.

Mistral. Mistral, I’m halfway already to where I want to be. I just need to think. How to get to that memory? How to get out of this one?

“You think I am too hard on you?” Lady Nikos asked. She looked much as she had done when Sunset met her, proof that she had spoken true when she declared that it was giving birth to Pyrrha, and not the ravages of years, that had turned her old before her time. The study was the same in some respects, but all the tributes to Pyrrha and her deeds that had in Sunset’s time made up one wall were gone, replaced by a painting in a gilt frame, a pastoral scene that clearly held little value for Lady Nikos, given that she would exile it from her presence in later years.

Pyrrha stood in front of her, on the other side of the desk. She was … five years old; Pyrrha’s memory supplied the years, tall for her age, and gangly in the arms, without the muscle that would later round them out. Her ponytail was shorter too, barely reaching to the nape of her neck. This was after her first triumph, in a citywide junior league — this was the tournament, Sunset guessed, in which she had beaten Phoebe Kommenos, who had come home and abused Cinder in consequence.

And so do the wheels turn, all fates entwined.

Pyrrha did not meet her mother’s gaze. “I … I…”

“Don’t stutter!” Lady Nikos snapped. “Speak!”

Sunset honoured Lady Nikos. She liked Lady Nikos. Yet at this moment, she was filled with nothing but anger towards Lady Nikos, an anger that she not expected to feel in the soul of gentle Pyrrha, but there it was: anger towards the woman who had controlled her, fashioned her like clay or soft wax, made her into an instrument of Lady Nikos’ own ambitions with no thought for Pyrrha’s own desires, who had lied to her to come between Pyrrha and her happiness, her heart’s desire.

Why did I want her to make amends with such a hateful woman? Sunset wondered.

Lady Nikos stared at her for a moment. “I am hard on you,” she conceded, “because you are a child, and if I am not hard on you, then you will not be hard on yourself. You will waste your days and your talents.” She got up, casting a shadow that reached across the desk to fall on Pyrrha. “You are my daughter,” she said, “a daughter of the House of Nikos, scion of a line of heroes, and you yourself … if Chiron is not a liar, and if mine eyes do not deceive me, then you have it in you to be the greatest warrior that Mistral has seen in many generations. I will not see that potential squandered; I will not.”

Somewhere else again; Pyrrha’s mind was like a flea, it jumped from scene to scene with scant regard for visitors, barely allowing Sunset to get her bearings in one place before she found herself being whisked off to another. Now, she stood in a field, upon the edge of a forest, looking down upon a wide valley with a river running through it, and on the other side of the valley, there, upon the mountain, lay Mistral.

“Why did they want to poison me?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset turned around. Pyrrha was a little older now, ten years old, and she had gotten taller, just as her hair had gotten longer. She was dressed in what looked like it could be the progenitor of her current garb of war: long black gloves upon her arms, a red sash — shorter than that which she currently wore — tied around her waist; her greaves were smaller, and there were no cuisses, and she wore no vambraces either. Her top was a little less revealing than it would become; in place of cuirass, she wore a red tunic, with a bronze pectoral across her chest.

Her circlet and armband were nowhere in evidence.

Pyrrha was sitting beneath a tree. Two people sat on either side of her, an equine faunus with hooves emerging from out of his trousers and a plump woman with dark tangled hair. Chiron and Chariclo, Pyrrha’s memories gave Sunset their names, her tutor and his wife, her erstwhile nurse. Though Pyrrha scarce required a nurse at that age, still, she and Chariclo were close, if only because she was Chiron’s wife.

Pyrrha’s memories, too, supplied the context that Sunset lacked; Jason and Meleager, two other of Chiron’s students, had attempted to put something in Pyrrha’s food that would sicken her, but Chariclo had uncovered the plot before it would come to fruition.

There was no anger in Pyrrha at this memory, and not just because it was so long ago and they had been children at the time; rather, this memory brought instead a renewal of that melancholy that Sunset had felt before.

She had hoped to make friends with them, her fellow students. She had hoped that they would share a common bond and be further bound in common purpose.

Instead, they hated her, and Pyrrha could not help but feel it was her fault.

Sunset wanted to go over to her and give her a hug.

Strangely, she did not want to find Jason and Meleager and give them a thrashing. Clearly, Pyrrha’s emotions were affecting her mood.

“They are boys,” Chariclo said, “and boys are cruel.”

“They are jealous, Pyrrha,” Chiron said. “Loathe as I am to contradict my dearest, they would have done this thing had their names been … Alcimede and Deianeira.”

Chariclo snorted.

“They are jealous … because I am more skilled than they are?” Pyrrha asked.

“It is unfortunately so,” Chiron informed her.

“But why?” Pyrrha demanded. “It doesn’t make me any better than them just because I’m … more skilled than they are.”

“It will,” Chariclo said. “In time, you will understand.”

“Pyrrha, you have won tournaments in the past, but these have been small affairs, meant for children to play in, signifying, I must confess, very little. You have been noted, by some, for your skill and for your victories, but even amongst those who claim to follow the tournaments, there is not such recognition for the youth circuit. But soon, your mother has told me that she wishes to enter you into the adult tournaments at the earliest possible age. For most students, for Meleager and for Jason, I would counsel against it, but you … you will be ready, I think. In truth, you are nearly ready now, not just to compete, but even to triumph. No one so young has won the Mistral tournament in … oh, many a year, back into days of myth and legend, but you … you have it in you. Your skill gives you that chance and will unlock great glory for you, glory that Jason and Meleager, skilled though they are, cannot imagine. And thus, they are consumed with envy. It is not pleasant, but it is the way of the world.”

“Need it be?” Pyrrha asked. “Is glory all there is, and nothing more?”

Chiron was silent for a moment. “What else could there be, or should there be?”

“To do … to do something with my skill more than win trophies for my mother’s cabinet,” Pyrrha said. “To win battles not for my glory but for all mankind.” She got up and took a step away from the tree, her eyes fixed on Sunset — not actually at Sunset, obviously, but at the city of Mistral that stood behind her. “To protect the world. Have I skill enough for that, Chiron?” She looked back at him, over her shoulder.

Pyrrha did not believe she did, not anymore. Sunset could feel it, just as she could feel the anger at her mother, the melancholy.

But how was she to take control of it? How was she to move according to her own desires and not the hopping of Pyrrha’s thoughts?

She was back in Kendal’s room now, with Pyrrha and her memory self, continuing their discussion from earlier. No, now she was in Mistral again, back in the House of Nikos, and Pyrrha was kissing Jaune … and Sunset was seized with a powerful desire to do the same.

Was he not handsome? Was he not brave and kind? Was there not so much in him to love, to adore, to cherish—?

Not for me, there isn’t! Stop it! Keep your feelings to yourself, Pyrrha!

Feelings … feelings, yes, perhaps. It was true that Pyrrha’s thoughts were being driven by association, or so it seemed, one memory giving way to another as they were triggered — Pyrrha asked Sunset about the rooftop, and then they were on the roof; Sunset asked about Pyrrha’s destiny, and then she remembered something about that, and so on. But Sunset’s thoughts were not having the same effect; she was thinking hard and to no avail; Pyrrha’s thoughts remained in control.

But what if it wasn’t about simply thinking, but feeling too? After all, her power was not just telepathy, but empathy; she didn’t just see Pyrrha’s memories, she didn’t really read Pyrrha’s thoughts at all, rather she felt her emotions.

If she could harmonise her feelings with Pyrrha’s, if she could feel what Pyrrha had been feeling in that moment, then perhaps she could guide herself in that direction.

So what had Pyrrha been feeling?

Sunset remembered what it had been like to arrive in Mistral from her own perspective; she remembered Pyrrha leaving Jaune behind to watch the great city come into view from the airship.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

That was what Pyrrha had said. Pride, then, excitement, joy. Sunset closed her eyes and covered up her ears and paid no mind to Pyrrha’s memory; rather, she focussed upon her own memories, her own feelings, and the connection between the two. Pride, excitement, joy. Attending Princess Celestia’s school. She had felt so proud to walk those hallowed halls on the first day, so proud to step through the open door, to sit down in class, to hear the words of wise and wizened unicorns. She had been … nothing, until then. Princess Celestia’s ward, yes, but a charity case, a little filly on whom the princess had taken pity, with no family, no purpose, and no use. But once she started attending the School for Gifted Unicorns, that was when … that was when Sunset Shimmer had started to become somepony, to show that Princess Celestia’s kindness had not been wasted on a nothing, to show Equestria what she could do.

To show Princess Celestia that she could do it.

Sunset opened her eyes and found that she stood upon a Mistralian airship, flying towards Mistral, with the memories of Team SAPR around her.

Sunset gasped. “I … I did it,” she said. “I did it!”

“I did it!” Sunset cried, raising her hands in the air back in the real world.

“You … you did?” Pyrrha asked. “You found the memory?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “The four of us, flying to Mistral.”

“Extraordinary,” Pyrrha murmured. “On your first time, you … that’s very good, Sunset; congratulations. How do you feel?”

Sunset grinned. “I kind of want to kiss Jaune right now.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Pyrrha said dryly.

“I also feel rather upset with your mother.”

“That might be a more welcome change, if it were permanent,” Pyrrha said. “For my part … it’s the strangest thing, but I feel a squirming sense of guilt.”

Sunset swallowed. Her stomach froze up. It works both ways? It works both ways! That’s … this is the worst semblance ever!

How am I going to explain this?

Pyrrha frowned. “Sunset … why do I … why do you feel so guilty?”

Sunset’s mouth was dry. She dared not swallow again for fear of betraying her nerves, and even if she had done so, it wouldn’t have helped. “I … I let you down over … over the Arcadia Lake business; it was … I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We forgave you for that.”

“That does not make it so easy to forgive myself,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “No,” she conceded. “No, I suppose not.” She glanced away, looking ashamed to have brought it up.

Mentally, Sunset let out the sigh of relief that she could not release physically.

“How did you do it?” asked Pyrrha, sounding anxious to change the subject. “Reach the memory, I mean?”

“I thought about what I thought you had been feeling at that moment, and then I felt the same things myself,” Sunset said.

“So easy?”

“It was an idea,” Sunset said. “One worth trying, it turns out.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, I see.”

“Is something wrong?” Sunset asked.

“Not wrong, exactly,” Pyrrha replied. “But with that approach … what will you do with someone you don’t know, whose feelings you cannot tell?”

Sunset’s mouth opened silently. “That’s a good point,” she admitted, “but what’s the alternative?”

“I confess, I am not sure either. It may be that there is no controlling your semblance under such circumstances,” Pyrrha admitted. “But, to make sure that it was not a fluke, would you like to give it another try?”

In This Manner Accused (New)

In This Manner Accused

It might have looked as though Jaune was sitting on the porch swing doing nothing, staring blankly out into space, but he was actually deep in thought.

Specifically, he was thinking about what to do about Crocea Mors.

He had to get it repaired or refashioned in some way; he needed a weapon for the Vytal Festival — he needed a weapon for the next three years at Beacon — and if he got any new weapon, any weapon other than a sword — and a sword that could be used in conjunction with a shield, at that — then all of Pyrrha’s instruction would be wasted, and he’d be starting from the beginning again.

He could always just have the sword reforged, exactly as it had been before, but that seemed … well, Dad had advised him not to do that, pretty much, and Jaune could see why. He had an opportunity now to do things a little differently, to come up with a weapon that, yes, fit the style that he’d been trained in, but which was also his, not just a hand-me-down from his family but something which played to his own strengths and allowed him to forge his own style along with the weapon itself.

It was the exact nature of what those strengths were and what that style might be that Jaune was trying to figure out.

Yes, Ruby would probably have some ideas when they met up again, but since this was his weapon, Jaune thought it would be no bad thing if he were to at least try and have a few ideas of his own before that.

So, while he was alone, he took the opportunity to think about it.

The fact that he was starting with the shards of Crocea Mors meant that anything excessively complicated was probably out. It was cool to imagine having something like Pyrrha’s Miló, where the sword also turned into a rifle or a shotgun or something like that, but he was almost completely certain that would require a lot more metal than was found in just an ordinary, untransforming sword. If that was what he wanted, he might as well start from scratch.

Starting from scratch was certainly an option; there was nobody to say that he couldn’t just throw the shards of Crocea Mors … okay, there were probably people who would have something to say about that, but he could leave the shards of the broken sword at home and pick up a new weapon at Beacon. Dad might even give him the money for it if he explained why.

But that … that didn’t sit right with Jaune; even if it was an option, then it wasn’t an option that he wanted to take. Crocea Mors might not have been the perfect weapon, or even the perfect weapon for him, but it was still his family’s sword, his great-great-grandfather and great-grandfather’s sword. As Sunset had just been complaining about, he didn’t have a lot of family history, but he did have this sword and the things that it had seen and been a part of.

It felt right to honour that, even while making it his own.

Besides, if he wanted a gun, then he could always just buy a gun.

Or … or maybe he could have a gun as part of his new Crocea Mors; after all, Dove had a gun built into his short sword, and it didn’t just transform. He just pointed the blade at his opponent and pulled the trigger. Jaune wasn’t sure how big of a gun it was — probably not a very big one, judging by the size of the sword and the fact that none of the gun parts were visible — but then, he didn’t actually think Miló was a particularly large-calibre rifle either. In fact, of the three members of his team who used guns, only Ruby’s Crescent Rose was what you might call a big gun. So maybe he could have something like a pistol built into the hilt, and it wouldn’t have a huge amount of stopping power, but it would give him options before the enemy got too close.

Alternatively, because just having options was only as good as the options themselves, could he use dust somehow? That wasn’t something that he would even need to change anything about the sword for — Soteria was just an ordinary sword, like Crocea Mors, but Sunset managed to infuse the blade with dust and light it on fire just fine all the same — but were there changes he could make that could give him more versatility than Sunset possessed? Sunset was limited by the fact that Soteria was, like Crocea Mors, a venerable old sword — and by the fact that Sunset and Lady Nikos would both have kittens at the thought of altering it in any way — but Jaune was being given a chance to alter his old sword, so why not … alter it? Maybe something like Weiss’ Myrtenaster would be a little much — and heavy at the back — but Russel’s daggers had some pretty small and discrete dust compartments in them.

Jaune wasn’t sure how much dust he could fit in them — probably not a huge amount — but, again, he would have options.

He would still be a swordsman first and foremost, but if the need arose, then he would be able to be a little more than a swordsman if he had to be.

While he was on the subject, although it wasn’t broken, there was no actual reason why he shouldn’t be able to upgrade the shield, too.

“What are you doing, Jaune?”

Jaune looked up into the face of Kendal, who had come to stand over him; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed her casting a shadow over him.

“Just … thinking,” Jaune said.

“Thinking, huh?” Kendal said, a touch of amusement entering her voice. She walked in front of him and sat down on the empty seat next to him. “What about?”

“What I could do with my sword,” Jaune told her. “Dad said that I shouldn’t just reforge it the way it was; I should take the opportunity to make a weapon that works for me. I’m thinking about what that might look like.”

“Ah,” Kendal said. “Well … I can’t help you with that. I’m not sure that anyone around here can, although … where is Pyrrha, anyway?”

“She’s with Sunset, upstairs in your room,” Jaune said.

“Doing what?”

“Pyrrha’s helping Sunset with her semblance,” Jaune said, deciding that it would be safe to tell the truth; ordinarily, he would have been wary of doing so, considering that Sunset’s semblance was supposed to be the magic that she already used expertly, but there was little need or reason for any of his family to see that.

Kendal nodded. “Do either of them have any ideas about what kind of weapon you could come up with?”

“I’d like to at least try and have a few of my own,” Jaune replied. “My friends will help, and whatever I come up with, they’ll help me make it too, but since it’s my weapon now, I feel like I should have the ideas, rather than relying on Pyrrha or Sunset to tell me what kind of weapon I ought to have.”

“That makes sense,” Kendal conceded. She paused for a moment. “So, what’s your team leader dug up? Are we secret big shots? Are we going to come into colossal wealth and fame?”

Jaune laughed. “Hardly,” he said. “Sunset hasn’t been able to find out anything past the founding of the town by great-great-grandfather.”

“That’s pretty much what Sky said to Pyrrha about it,” Kendal agreed. “It’s like great-great-grandfather sprang out of the earth, ready to found Alba Longa, and before that … before that, he might not even have been called Arc. He might have changed his name to hide where he came from and who he was.”

“If that’s the case, I’d rather not know,” Jaune muttered.

“Really?” Kendal asked.

Jaune nodded. “What if the reason he did that was because … I don’t know, he was a crook or something?”

“Why would a crook found a town?”

“Why would anyone change their name and hide their past?” Jaune replied.

Kendal shrugged. “Even if there was something shady about him, something that he’d done wrong in his younger days, then so what? It doesn’t change who you are.”

“Pyrrha’s mom might not see it that way,” Jaune reminded her. “The whole reason Sunset came out here was to find something that would make me … more acceptable to her. I’d rather she didn’t find something that worked the other way.”

“From what I understand,” Kendal said, “Pyrrha’s already told her mom to get stuffed once when it came to you.”

“Yeah, but…” Jaune hesitated. “That doesn’t mean that I want her to … the fact that she chose me over her own mother is so … but I don’t want her to have to make that choice. She’s the only family Pyrrha has.”

“She has you now,” Kendal pointed out. She paused for a moment, looking away and putting her hand to her face, as though she was about to start chewing on her nails.

“Kendal?” Jaune asked. “Are you okay?”

Kendal snorted. “No,” she said. “I haven’t been … but I’ll live.”

“Kendal—”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Jaune,” Kendal said. “You’ve got enough to think about, getting through Beacon … and Pyrrha.” She frowned. “Listen, Jaune … you like her, right? I mean, you love her?”

Jaune nodded. “With … with all my heart,” he said. “With everything that’s in me.”

“Then don’t let her go,” Kendal urged, reaching out to put her hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “Don’t let her slip away from you, because … because if you do, you’ll regret it, for years, maybe forever. If you really care about her, then for god’s sake, stick with her.”

Jaune stared into his sister’s eyes. “Kendal…” Who are we talking about now? He didn’t know anything about Kendal having lost someone, or even having a break-up; his knowledge of her romantic life was absolutely nil. Had she … what had she suffered in silence?

“You don’t need to worry about me, Jaune,” I guess that means she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Trust me,” he said softly. “If anything comes between us, it won’t be my choice.”

Kendal drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, Pyrrha told me that she…”

“Left me behind?” Jaune supplied. “You were … talking about me?”

“You’re her boyfriend and my little brother, what else were we going to talk about?” Kendal asked. “It’s not like we have a whole lot in common.”

“And she told you—”

“How she got into a fight without you, because she felt like she had something to prove,” Kendal explained. “Though from what Terra says about her, it doesn’t seem as if Pyrrha has anything to prove to anyone.”

“You’d think,” Jaune replied, wondering how he could explain without giving away any of the secrets to which he was privy. “It’s true that … Pyrrha’s reputation is a hundred percent deserved. She’s strong and fast; when you see her fight, she … she’s incredible. But lately, with the things that we’ve learned … Pyrrha’s been starting to wonder if that’s enough.”

Kendal snorted. “If it’s not enough, then what hope is there for any of us?”

Jaune didn’t reply to that directly. He took a few seconds to gather up his thoughts before he said, “I think … it’s not a problem that I’ve ever had to deal with, but … I think that when you’re that good, that young, like Pyrrha was — like Pyrrha is — then the problem is that you start to think that you can do anything, that there are no limits to what you can accomplish. And I’m not saying that Pyrrha’s arrogant — she’s one of the most humble people I know — but when you’re that good, you don’t need to be arrogant; you can be justly proud of your skill and your accomplishments, and that’s valid because you really are just that good, and especially, when you grow up like Pyrrha did and have practically an entire city blowing smoke for you, then it’s a miracle that Pyrrha isn’t full of herself. But … now that she’s found out that … now that it turns out that there are things that she can’t accomplish, as much as she wants to … I’m not sure that she knows how to deal with it.”

“Well, with your expertise in reaching your limits, I’m sure you’ll be able to help her with that.”

“Kendal!”

“I’m allowed to tease you a little bit, come on,” Kendal insisted. “And that’s why she fought this other girl?”

“And because she was dangerous, and she was worried about me,” Jaune said. “That … that was harder for me to forgive.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I get why she feels the way she does, about … about her place in all of this. I don’t agree with her — if she’s not good enough, then what does that say about me? — but I get it. And I get why she wanted to win that fight, what she wanted to prove to herself. It’s not something that I’d need to do, but after spending a little time in her home city, I get that too. But the fact that she left me to stand and watch, pretty much told me to stay back, because she didn’t trust me to stand by her side even after we’d already talked about that, about how that wasn’t what I wanted, even after she promised … that was harder for me to get over.”

“But you did get over it,” Kendal said.

“Well, yeah,” Jaune said. “I mean, I still love her, after all. And after we talked, I think … I think she understood better why it hurt and why … she won’t do it again.”

Kendal smiled at him. “So,” she said, “when are you going back to Beacon?”

“Tomorrow,” Jaune said. “Sunset can’t learn anything else here, and Pyrrha and I … there’s no point in hanging around.”

“You’ve got your sword to remake, after all,” Kendal said. “You told Mom and Dad?”

“Not yet,” Jaune said. “I’ll tell them at dinner tonight.”

Kendal nodded. “By a coincidence, I’ll be leaving tomorrow as well; I got a call from HQ about a job.”

“They want you to head out and do some surveying?”

“Well, yeah, that is my job.”

“Where?” Jaune asked. “Did they say?”

“Southeast.”

“'Southeast'?” Jaune repeated. “That’s—”

“There’s more to the southeast than just Mountain Glenn,” Kendal reminded him. “Vale’s a big country, after all.”

“Yeah, but … I mean, it worked out so well the last time,” Jaune muttered.

Kendal sighed. “I get what you’re saying, but the thinking is that so many of the grimm that inhabited that area were killed off recently that we should take the chance to set up new settlements in the region while we can, before the grimm come back.”

“But they will come back,” Jaune said.

“If we took that attitude, we’d never build any new villages,” Kendal replied.

“I guess, but … that area is crawling with grimm,” Jaune said. “Maybe not right now, but it always has been; I mean, Mountain Glenn—”

“Nobody’s talking about a new Mountain Glenn,” Kendal assured him. “I mean, I’ve seen some plans that are overambitious, for a whole line of fortified settlements stretching from the mountains down to Alexandria to act as a breaker for when the grimm do return, but I don’t think that’s likely to happen. It would cost too much, and there aren’t that many people who would want to move to those kinds of places; no, what we’re talking about is a few surveyors like me heading down that way and seeing if there is anywhere that we could put a couple of villages or small towns: modest places, defensible places, places that we can hold onto when the grimm come back.”

“Be careful,” Jaune said. “Just because a lot of grimm were killed doesn’t mean—”

“I may not have gone to Beacon, but I know what I’m doing,” Kendal declared. “I know how dangerous it can be out there.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “Are you going to hire a huntsman?”

Kendal grinned. “It’s a pity that you’re still in school; I could hire you and Pyrrha to protect me. But … I don’t know; I’ll see what particular area I’ve been assigned to scout when I get to HQ, see whether the budget will stretch for me to afford one. Anyone you’d recommend?”

“All the huntsmen and huntresses I know are either students or professors,” Jaune said. “And anyway, it doesn’t work like that.”

“No,” Kendal acknowledged. “No, it doesn’t. The huntsmen get a choice; we don’t.” She hesitated. “Although I’ve got to say, that seems kind of weird; like, I’m the client, why do I not get to pick my own huntsman?”

“Because huntsmen are supposed to be independent,” Jaune replied. “Nobody gets to tell us what to do.”

“Don’t your teachers tell you what to do?”

“Not as often as you’d think.”

“Huh,” Kendal said. “Maybe I’ll get the train back with you. Or would you rather I didn’t embarrass you in front of Pyrrha and Sunset?”

“No,” Jaune said. “I mean, sharing a ride, that sounds great.”

Kendal smiled with her mouth closed. Her eyes flickered away from Jaune.

Jaune looked around in time to see Ruben approaching, his steps thumping upon the wooden boards of the porch as he leapt up onto it and made his way towards them.

“Jaune, hey,” he said, in a voice shorn of his usual false cheer, the enthusiastic mockery of Jaune that usually dripped from every word.

In fact, Ruben did not look cheerful at all. He was rubbing his stubbled chin with one hand, and he didn’t look directly at Jaune, but rather past him, down at the wood of the porch, as though he were finding it uncomfortable to be around Jaune.

“Ruben,” Jaune said. “Is … is everything okay?”

“No, Jaune, no, I’m afraid it isn’t,” Ruben said. “No, everything is … everything is not okay.” He scowled and rubbed his chin and cheeks some more. “Is, uh, is Pyrrha around?”

“She’s upstairs,” Jaune said. “Why?”

“Because…” Ruben hesitated. “Jaune, I have thought long and hard over whether or not to tell you this, because god knows you seem pretty happy with that girl, and I don’t want to hurt you, believe me, but … I believe that you deserve the truth. And the truth is … the truth is that she’s cheating on you, Jaune.”

“What?” The exclamation flew from Kendal’s mouth, not Jaune’s. “Are you…? Wow, Ruben, just … wow. Even by your standards, that is a terrible, terrible joke.”

“I’m not jokin’,” Ruben insisted, holding up both his hands. “I’m just—”

“What?” Jaune demanded. “If you’re not joking, then what are you doing?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Jauney,” Ruben cried. “I’m just tellin’ you what I saw. And what I saw, was Pyrrha and Red makin’ out. And they were gettin’ pretty into it too.”

“Ugh,” Kendal muttered in disgust. “Seriously? Jaune, you can’t honestly believe this crap.”

“'Crap'? 'Crap,' is it?” Ruben repeated. “You think I’m lyin’?”

“I think that I’ve got a pretty good idea of how Pyrrha feels about Jaune,” Kendal insisted.

“Well, maybe she lied to you, just like she lied to Jaune,” Ruben suggested.

“No,” Jaune said, shaking his head. Kendal was right, Ruben was lying; this was all a big and very unfunny practical joke, this was all a way of trying to get him to panic or to cry or something like that; Pyrrha was … Pyrrha would never behave that way; she was too kind, too gentle, too … too in love with him. He remembered the night of the dance; he remembered Dad’s birthday party from just a little while ago, how perfectly she fit in his arms, the way that she leaned against him, the way that she kissed him, how determined she was to impress his family. “No, Pyrrha wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t what?” Ruben asked, getting down on his knees so that he and Jaune were closer to a height. “Wouldn’t see you for what you are?”

“Ruben—”

“Wouldn’t recognise a real man instead of a no-mark boy who ain’t good for nothin’?”

“Ruben!”

Jaune looked away from Ruben, his hands coming to rest upon his knees. He found himself staring down at his hands. Soft hands, not the hands of a farmer or a warrior. He wasn’t good enough to fight alongside Pyrrha, he wasn’t really good enough to satisfy her either, he certainly didn’t deserve her.

But Sunset says that love has nothing to do with deserving. And Pyrrha … Pyrrha loves me; I mean why would she pretend like she did if she doesn’t, why would she even go out with me in the first place?

“I’m sorry, Jauney, but you didn’t really think that a fine girl like her was gonna stick by you, did you? I mean, look at you.”

“Ruben, shut your god-damned mouth!” Kendal yelled. She reached out and grabbed Jaune’s hand. “Jaune, don’t listen to him. I don’t know what he’s playing — well, I can kind of guess, but that doesn’t mean you need to listen to him. Remember what you were just telling me, about you and Pyrrha; please don’t tell me that you’re going to throw that away just because Ruben says so.”

“I have worked for this family my whole life!” Ruben cried. “And I—”

“And you are the last man alive who should be accusing anyone of cheating,” Kendal growled.

Ruben swallowed, his neck bulging for a moment as it flushed a bright and vivid red. “I am trying,” he declared, “to do the right thing by Jaune.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jaune said. “Maybe … maybe it was stupid to think that I could … could make Pyrrha happy. Maybe she has found someone better than me. But even if that were true, Pyrrha would tell me first; she wouldn’t sneak around behind my back.”

“I have proof!” Ruben yelled. “I have pictures!”

“'Pictures'?” Kendal repeated. “What do you mean, how can you have pictures?”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “What … that’s not possible!”

“What’s going on out here? Why is everyone yelling?” Rouge demanded as she strode out of the front door and onto the porch, with Saphron and Terra following closely behind her. “Ruben?”

“I am doing something which I knew would not be popular,” Ruben said, “but it has to be done, for Jaune’s own good.”

“Jaune’s … own good?” Rouge murmured. “What do you mean?”

“I have pictures,” Ruben said again, “of Pyrrha cheating on Jaune with Red Beauregard.”

“That’s impossible!” Terra cried. “A … a princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way.”

“I don’t know about no princesses, but I know what I saw, and I know what my scroll shows.”

“Then let me see,” Jaune said.

Silence fell amongst the gathered Arcs.

“Jaune,” Kendal said. “You don’t have to—”

“Let me see,” Jaune repeated, “so that I can say that you’re wrong.”

“I wish that you could, Jauney,” Ruben said. “Believe me, I wish that you could.”

And yet, despite his words, it almost seemed that Ruben smiled.

“There seems to be a lot of shouting going on downstairs, doesn’t there?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yeah, I suppose there is,” Sunset agreed. “That’s uncommon, I take it.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied. “There are disagreements, of course, but rarely such volatile ones. The last such concerned … well, Jaune returning to Beacon, and even that, even being in the room, it didn’t feel so … loud. Perhaps we should go down and—”

“Best not, if it’s a family argument,” Sunset said. “Do you really want to get in the middle of something like that? No matter what side you take — and if you go down there, you’ll almost be forced to take sides — you’ll upset some of Jaune’s family. Best to stay here, and wait for it all to blow over.”

“That … is very wise, I’m sure,” Pyrrha replied.

While it might involve abandoning Jaune — although she couldn’t imagine why Jaune would get involved in an argument like this — it was the sensible course to not offend any of his relatives, not after she had so recently become accepted by them. Best to say here, until it was all settled one way or another.

It really wasn’t any of her business.

But to the sounds of raised voices coming from downstairs was added the sound of footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs, and then along the corridor.

Terra appeared in the doorway, a little out of breath. “You need to get down there right now,” she insisted.

“Why?” Pyrrha asked. “What’s going on?”

“Ruben has pictures he claims are of you kissing another man; everyone’s arguing over whether or not to believe it. You need to come down before they make a decision.”

“'Kissing another—'” Pyrrha gasped, one hand flying to her heart. “But … but I would never—”

“Don’t tell me, tell them,” Terra insisted, gesturing downstairs. “Quickly.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured, leaping to her feet almost upon instinct, picking up the folds of her skirt with one hand to lift them out of the path of her feet. Behind her, Sunset was pulling on her gloves.

Pyrrha walked to the doorway. “Thank you, Terra.”

“Anything for the Champion,” Terra said. “Now quickly!”

Pyrrha moved, but as she passed by Terra, as she walked the short distance down the corridor, as she descended the stairs, it was almost as though she did so in a fugue state, in a fog of disbelief and confusion.

She hadn’t kissed any other men, not in her life and certainly not in this town. Jaune was her first and only kiss, as he was her first and only love.

How, then, could Ruben have pictures of that which had not happened? What was he showing them downstairs, and did Jaune believe it?

That was the thing that she feared most. If the rest of Jaune’s family, if mother and father and sisters all turned against her, if they all became more hostile than they had been when they first arrived, then she could live with that. If they banished her from their home, then she would … she would be content if only Jaune left his home beside her. But if Jaune did not believe her, if he was convinced by these photographs of Ruben’s, if he thought her capable of such faithlessness and cruelty, then … then she did not know what she would do.

She did not know if her heart would bear it.

Said heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she came down the stairs.

All the Arcs were gathered in the dining room, save only Aoko. All the rest were present: Gold and Honeysuckle, Rouge, Ruben, Saphron — Terra was behind Pyrrha, with Sunset — Kendal, Sky, River, Chester, Violet. And Jaune, Jaune, standing by the dining table, with his face pale, not looking at anyone.

“I don’t know what you’ve done or how you’ve done it,“ Sky was saying, “but I know that you’ve done something.”

“You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you?” River asked.

“So have you,” Kendal muttered.

“Look, I’m not happy about this,” River declared. “I like Pyrrha, or at least I liked Pyrrha, and I’m sorry that things have turned out this way, but you can’t deny what we all see with our own eyes.”

“It does look like her,” Chester agreed.

“Photos can be faked,” Kendal said. “My boss in Vale has a picture of himself that looks like a selfie taken with an ursa major, but I hardly need to tell you he wasn’t actually posing for a picture with a grimm standing right behind him.”

“I didn’t like Pyrrha when she first showed up,” Sky said, “but she has never been anything less than honest, even when I didn’t like what she had to say.”

“Thank you, Sky,” Pyrrha said. “I appreciate that.”

The dining room fell silent. Every Arc turned to look at her.

Every Arc but one.

Pyrrha tried to gauge their judgement by their expressions. River looked upset, while Chester looked more concerned about his wife than he did about the truth of the accusations — which was fair enough, she supposed; Jaune’s parents looked wary, uncertain; Saphron’s gaze was hard, for all that Terra had shown that she was unambiguously on Pyrrha’s side; Violet was scowling at her; Rouge looked uncertain, a frown creasing her forehead. Sky and Kendal, standing on either side of Jaune, smiled at her.

Jaune did not look at her.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, her voice so soft that it was barely more than a whisper. “Jaune, I…” Please look at me. Please say something. Please, give me a sign that you have faith in me.

“Don’t talk to him!” Violet cried. “After—”

“Violet!” Sky growled.

Jaune looked up at her. “I … I’ve always thought that you could do better than me,” he said, and Pyrrha’s heart quailed to hear those words pass his lips.

“No, Jaune, I—” she began.

“But I’ve always known,” he went on, “that if the day came when you figured that out for yourself, I would be the first person you would tell.”

A sigh of ragged relief escaped from Pyrrha’s lips, setting her whole body momentarily a-trembling. “That day will never come,” she insisted, “for I am yours, as you, I hope, are mine. But I swear to you, by all that I am and all that I have and all that others are pleased to make me in their good opinions, I did not do this. I would not, I could not.”

“I know,” Jaune replied. “I know.”

Pyrrha … Pyrrha didn’t care what happened now. They could all hate her, they could all believe Ruben, they could all think whatever they liked of or about her because Jaune believed her, and that was all that mattered.

She walked towards him, without hesitation; she would allow none of the rest of the family to stay her progress, and they all made way for her until she was standing by Jaune’s side — even Sky had gotten out of the way so that there was a place for her beside him.

She felt Jaune’s hand close around hers, and despite the circumstance, she smiled.

“Well done, Jaune,” Sunset said. “It’s good to know that there are still some guys out there getting it right.” She took a breath and scowled around the room. “Now, which one of you is Ruben?”

Ruben straightened his back. “I am, and who might you be?”

“Uh, everyone,” Jaune said. “This is—”

“I’m Sunset Shimmer, and I can speak for myself,” Sunset said, cutting him off. Her ears were drooped down so that they disappeared into her hair — a sure sign that Sunset was not in the best of moods — and her tail was rigid behind her. “I’m Sunset Shimmer,” she repeated, her green-eyed gaze fixed on Ruben. “Leader of Team Sapphire.” She paused for a moment. “Apparently, there is something that passes for proof?”

“I have it,” Ruben said, raising his hand with his scroll in it. “Right—”

Sunset raised her hand in turn, enveloped by the green glow of her magic as, with her telekinesis, she yanked the scroll out of Ruben’s hand and pulled it across the room into her own grasp.

“Hey!” Ruben cried.

“Silence, trash,” Sunset snapped as she looked down at the scroll that she had acquired.

Her eyebrows rose. She jabbed her finger at the screen, swiping first one way and then the other. She stared down at the screen, at the pictures that Pyrrha hadn’t seen, at the pictures that had convinced some of the Arcs, if not all of them, before she derisively threw the scroll away.

“Fakes,” she pronounced. “You can’t even see her face!”

Jaune added, “And did you notice that she’s not—”

“Wearing Pyrrha’s circlet, either, yes,” Sunset agreed. “That’s more visible from behind than it is from the front, but there’s no sign of it on those pictures.”

“I saw—”

“I said silence, you lowborn dog!” Sunset roared. Her voice dropped, becoming sharp as Soteria’s edge. “Silence, you cur, that dares to slander Pyrrha’s name, that name which cannot be blotted with any just reproach, yet you, with the stench of…” She sniffed the air. “Is that perfume I smell on you?”

“What?” Sky asked.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “I can smell it with my equine faunus nose, you smell of perfume.”

“Rouge doesn’t wear perfume,” Kendal said.

“We aren’t talkin’ about me,” Ruben yelped.

“Maybe we should; it is more proof than you have offered,” Sunset said. “Or I could just box your ears for temerity. I might do that anyway.”

“But she’s wearing Pyrrha’s fancy clothes,” River pointed out.

“Clothes can be worn by people other than their owner,” Sunset said.

“Which dress is being worn in the picture?” Pyrrha asked.

“The red one,” Jaune said. “With the cape thing with the sleeves—”

“The bolero,” Sunset supplied.

“But that’s the dress that’s missing!” Pyrrha cried.

“What?” Gold Arc said. “'Missing'?”

“Yes, sir,” Pyrrha said. “If you go and check my luggage, you will not find my red dress there, and as you can plainly see, I am not wearing it.” She paused. “I understand that some of you believed what you saw, but I hope that none of you will think so ill of me that you believe I would discard the dress to hide the evidence of my misdeed.”

River blinked. “So … someone stole your dress, and wore it, to pretend to be you and kiss Red Beauregard? Why would anyone do that?”

“Why indeed, Ruben?” Kendal asked, folding her arms.

“You think that … that I set this up?” Ruben demanded.

“You know, it’s kind of hard to have a nap upstairs when you’re all being so loud down here,” Aoko said, as she ambled down the stairs. She blinked owlishly as she looked around the room. “Did I miss something?”

“Either Pyrrha cheated on Jaune, or Ruben tried to fake it so it looked as though Pyrrha cheated on Jaune.”

“It’s the second one,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha squeezed his hand gratefully.

Aoko was silent for a moment. “Wow, jackass move … whichever of you it was.”

“Hey, Aoko,” Sky said, “you’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

“I’m a software engineer. So … kinda,” Aoko said.

“So, you can pick up Ruben’s scroll — it’s over there on the floor — and tell us if those pictures are fake or not, right?” Sky asked.

Aoko was silent for a moment, but she did begin to shuffle across the room. “Where?”

“Here,” Sunset said, and her hand glowed with magic once again as, for the second time, she picked up the scroll and levitated up into Aoko’s hands.

“Thank you … whoever you are,” Aoko said. She looked at the pictures — Pyrrha was glad she couldn’t see them; she had no desire to do so — for a moment. Like Sunset before her, she tapped at the screens, although not swiping; rather, her fingers played across the device as though she were typing something.

“I haven’t conducted a full analysis, but I don’t think these are fakes,” Aoko said, “because they were only taken forty minutes ago, and I don’t think that’s enough time for an amateur to create a convincing fake.”

“You can tell when the photo was taken?” Sky asked. “Wow, you really are good.”

“Not really, I just looked at the date and time stamp of the file in ‘properties,’” Aoko said. “As Sheriff, shouldn’t you know how to do that?”

“The important thing,” Jaune said, “is that Pyrrha was on the porch then, with me and Sunset, so she couldn’t have been with Red then! Thanks, Aoko, you’re the best!”

“Am I really the only one who knew how to do that?”

“Pyrrha,” River murmured. “I … I’m so sorry, it just, it really looked like you, and they were wearing your clothes—”

“I understand,” Pyrrha said. She wasn’t incredibly happy about it; she would have rather been believed, but on the assumption that it was a convincing fake — she wasn’t about to ask — then she could understand why these people who didn’t know her very well might have been taken in by it. “You were only looking out for Jaune, I’m sure.”

“And doing a poor job of it, again,” Rouge said. “It appears we owe you another apology, Pyrrha; I beg your forgiveness.” She glared at her husband. “And as for you, Ruben, how could you?”

“Honey—”

“Don’t 'honey' me!” Rouge yelled. “How could you treat Jaune that way? I … I know that I have not always been a good wife to you. I know that … that my condition has made it impossible for me to be a good wife to you, to perform the foremost duty of a wife, to render to you that which a wife should render to her husband, and so I have ignored … I have ignored the other women. I have ignored Jolene Parton—”

“Jolene Parton!” Sky cried. “That’s who it was in the photo, isn’t it? She’s got red hair just like Pyrrha!” She paused. “And she wears perfume too; have you been sleeping with Jolene Parton?”

“Yes, he has,” Rouge said quietly. “For some time now.”

“You … you knew?” Ruben gasped.

“You deserved to find what happiness you could, even if you were stuck with me for a wife,” Rouge said. “And so, I … looked away and slept in another room. But this … to do this to Jaune? To try and break his heart, to lie about Pyrrha, to try and break her heart … why? How could you be so cruel to someone who has done you no wrong?”

“Do you really need to know?” Sunset asked. “Can’t I just hit him already?”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Sky growled.

“Sky, Miss Shimmer, wait,” Rouge urged. “I would like to hear what Ruben has to say for himself.

Ruben took a step back towards the corridor that led out towards the front door. All the eyes that had been turned on Pyrrha were now affixed on him, and this time, not even Sky or Kendal were not hostile.

“You … you have no idea,” Ruben said. “You treat me like garbage—”

“Because you are, seems like,” Sunset said.

“You all treated Jaune just the same way that I did, but when I did it, you decided that I was too hard on him, I was the bad guy, you looked down on me so that you didn’t have to look at yourselves!” Ruben yelled. “And you kept on looking down on me, even though I stuck around, I worked for all of you! And then Jaune runs away, steals from his family, but then he comes back, and it's all smiles and isn’t it great and what an amazing girlfriend you have, Jaune. He comes in swaggering, acting like a man now. Yes, I wanted to break them up, I wanted to make him cry. Why should Jaune have a beauty like that, when I’m stuck married to half a woman—”

“Okay, now someone hit him,” Gold said.

“Gladly,” Sunset growled.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, in a voice that was at once gentle and yet firm enough to fill the room. “Wait a moment, if you please.”

She let go of Jaune’s hand and stepped forwards, her heels tapping on the wooden floorboards of the Arcs’ dining room, her red skirt swishing around her, rustling a little as she advanced on Ruben.

She stared into his eyes. Her own eyes were as hard as the emeralds they were so often said to resemble.

“Mister Meade-Arc,” she said, “although it may be only Mister Meade soon enough … in my culture, you have given me cause to challenge you to a duel to the death.”

Ruben’s eyes widened. “The … to the death?”

“Quite,” Pyrrha said. “You should think yourself fortunate that we are not in Mistral. Instead, I will answer your offences in the Valish way.”

She hit him, her fist snapping out and upwards to strike his nose with a sickening crunch. Ruben’s head snapped backwards as a cry of pain escaped from between his lips. He reeled backwards, but Pyrrha caught him by the arm before he had gone more than a step. She twisted his arm, spinning him around and pinioning him with it.

“I sympathise with your feeling trapped and unhappy,” she said as Ruben groaned in her iron grasp. “It is … not a pleasant situation in which to find oneself. But that does not give you the right to vent your frustrations upon Jaune nor meddle with ill-intent in mine and Jaune’s relationship! How … how dare you?”

“I think this is the angriest I’ve ever seen you,” Sunset observed.

“That I am patient does not make me endlessly so,” Pyrrha declared. “I am not an ass, to bear without complaint ever more slights and insults, one upon the other, and never cast them off. Call me a liar, call me an adulteress, call me such things that I will not repeat, try and snatch from me the…” — she took a deep breath — “the best thing that has ever been mine.”

She shoved Ruben away, towards the wall, and stood there, in the dining room, with all the Arc family looking on. Her chest rose and fell.

I hope I didn’t go too far. “I … I am sorry, sir,” she said. “I am not … I know not what came over me.”

“I don’t know why you stopped,” Sky muttered.

“I will keep friends with you, Pyrrha,” Sunset said. There was a flash of green light as she teleported the distance between herself and Ruben, appearing behind him and grabbing him by the arm that Pyrrha had only just released. “But you, you wretch, you knave, you insolent dog,” Sunset growled. “You … you fool.” She shook her head. “What are we going to do with you?”

Ruben looked around desperately. “Rouge,” he said. “Rouge, I—”

“Divorce proceedings will begin shortly,” Rouge said softly. “What you have done to me is unimportant, but it will serve as a fitting pretext. In the meantime … go. You’re not welcome in this house anymore.”

“But where am I supposed to go?”

“To Jolene Parton, if she’ll have you!” Rouge cried. “Anywhere you like!”

“Everywhere,” Sunset said.

“Wh-what?” Ruben asked.

“You’re going to go everywhere, across this whole village,” Sunset said. She released Ruben from her grasp. “You’re going to go to everyone, to every door, and you’re going to tell them what you did, and you’re going to tell them that your wife has thrown you out, and you’re going to show everyone what a pathetic worm you are. And I’m going to follow you and make sure you do it.”

Ruben said nothing. He half turned around to stare at Sunset, eyes wide with disbelief.

Sunset raised her hand. The green light of her magic crackled between her fingertips. “Quick march,” she said.

Ruben did more than march. He scrambled for the door, his footsteps thudding as he ran towards the door. Sunset followed him out, her pace a little slower but infinitely more steady.

Within the house, silence reigned.

Without a word, Jaune walked to Pyrrha’s side and once more took her hand.

“Rouge, sweetie,” Gold murmured, “you … you knew that he was cheating on you? And you didn’t … you didn’t say anything?”

“He … he wasn’t wrong,” Rouge said. “We didn’t treat him well.”

“We treated him like he deserved,” Sky said.

“Did we?” Rouge asked. “We did treat Jaune badly, but we then judged Ruben for doing the same. It isn’t only Pyrrha that we owe an apology too. Jaune—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaune said quickly. “I mean … if I hadn’t … if I hadn’t been the person that I am, if I’d been someone else, not the person that you all made me, I wouldn’t have met Pyrrha or found my team, so … so it all ended up okay for me, in the end. But you … that doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“But the fact that I cannot—”

“Rouge, dear, don’t say that,” Honeysuckle said, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her daughter. “That isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not, Mom, but it’s a fact anyway.”

“You should have told me,” Gold said. “You shouldn’t have had to … I liked him.”

“It’s okay, Dad; we’ve all made some bad judgements lately,” Sky said, looking at Pyrrha.

Rouge glanced at her. “Nobody would blame you if you gave up on us.”

Pyrrha shook her head. “Everything you have done,” she said, “you’ve done because you love Jaune.

“I understand that perfectly, because after all, I love him too.”

Put a Ring On It (New)

Put a Ring On It

“I’ve got to say, I’m a little surprised,” Kendal said as she fastened Pyrrha’s dress — this particular dress didn’t have a zipper running up the back; rather, a few buttons which not only exposed some of her back to view but also couldn’t be manipulated with Polarity — behind her.

Pyrrha stood facing the window, although the curtains were drawn. She turned her head so that she was looking at Kendal over her shoulder. “'Surprised'? Surprised by what?”

Kendal snorted. “That you still think we’re worth getting dressed up for.”

“Do you include yourself in that?” Pyrrha asked. “You were on my side, and Sky. And Terra, for that matter.”

Kendal chuckled. “'A princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way.'”

“Excuse me?”

“What Terra said, in your defence,” Kendal explained. “When Ruben said he’d caught you cheating on Jaune, Terra said … well, she said that. 'A princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way.' Is that true?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I think a true princess of the old blood would have mounted Ruben’s head upon a pike,” she murmured.

Kendal was silent for a moment. “Really?”

“Mistral’s history is … frequently rather violent,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Are you going to be alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean with Ruben,” Pyrrha said. “He’s still technically Rouge’s husband, and … is he going to cause trouble for you?”

“He might try,” Kendal replied, “but I doubt he’ll get anywhere, not now that everyone knows what he did — thanks to your Sunset for making sure of that; that was clever of her. Makes me want to make sure I stay on her good side, but very clever all the same.”

“Sunset … understands the power of social opinion,” Pyrrha said. From having been on the wrong side of it. “And she’s very protective.”

“Of you?”

“Of all of us,” Pyrrha said. “I am, I have been, less in need of protection than Ruby or Jaune, or even Blake, but … my mother charged her with my protection, and so, yes, she does take that seriously.”

“Right,” Kendal said. “You’re all done, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you,” Pyrrha said; she turned around, her red skirt flowing around her like water, rustling lightly as it moved. “How do I look?”

Kendal smirked. “Better than mortal Arcs deserve.”

“Stop, please,” Pyrrha pleaded gently.

For tonight, for her last night here in Alba Longa, she wore a gown of red, styled somewhat loosely after an old-fashioned chiton or peplos from Mistral’s history, which meant that though the skirt reached all the way down to the floor and covered her feet, it did not expand very far outwards around her. There was gold scrollwork just above the hem; at her hips, dipping slightly between them, there was a golden belt. Gold decorated the bodice also, a golden line passing around her body just beneath her breasts, passing upwards in an inverted V to reach the top of her sweetheart neckline, said neckline being adorned with little beads of gold that sparkled when they caught the light. The sleeves were short, and Pyrrha had left all the clasps that would have fastened them up undone so that they were scarcely sleeves at all, but rather flaps of fabric falling off her shoulders and down by her sides towards her waist, leaving her pale arms bare to the world. Her armband was upon her arm above the elbow, while upon her wrists, she wore a pair of golden bracers, and her gorget was clasped tightly around her neck. Her circlet gleamed upon her brow, where it was not hidden behind her bangs, just as it always did.

Just as it had not in the faked pictures that Ruben had sought to use to mar her reputation.

Forgetting her circlet, indeed. There were little girls attending Fighting Fan Expo for the first time who remembered to include a circlet as part of their Pyrrha costumes, even if it was only a bit of gold foil wrapped around their foreheads — some of those costumes were very adorable.

“When you dress like that,” Kendal said, “it makes your protestations of modesty ring just a little bit false. You can’t dress to impress and then insist that you never meant to make an impression.”

A little laugh escaped from Pyrrha’s lips. “No, I … I suppose not.” She glanced at her case. “It was very good of Sky to go and get my dress from … that woman, what was her name?”

“Jolene Parton.”

“Do you know her?”

“Everyone knows her,” Kendal muttered. “Ruben’s a fool if he thinks she’ll take him in, let alone marry him once Rouge finalises the divorce.”

“She doesn’t love him, then?”

“She was in love with everything he’d come into once he inherited Dad’s estate,” Kendal replied. “The house, the land, we’re not as well off as you, but there’s a bit tucked away.”

“And it would all have gone to Ruben?” Pyrrha asked. “Not to any of you, or Jaune?”

“If you had brothers or sisters, would your inheritance get divided up, or would you get the whole thing?”

“I would,” Pyrrha conceded. “Assuming, in that scenario, that I was still the eldest. Custom would dictate that I take care of my younger siblings, at least, unless, or until they found other ways of supporting themselves: successful careers, good marriages, that sort of thing. However … nobody could actually compel me to do so.”

Kendal smiled. “And so we come back to my question: is it true that a princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way?”

“I wish that it were so,” Pyrrha murmured. “But all I can say for certain is that I would not behave in such a fashion, not because I am a princess, or because I am of the old blood of Mistral, but because I am … because I am myself, and being myself, I hope I am … a better person than that.”

Kendal smiled, but it was a sad smile, like a sun partly obscured by clouds. “Be happy,” she said. “You will, won’t you, the two of you?”

Pyrrha reached out, and took her hands. “In our lives … I cannot say what the future holds for us, what challenges, what obstacles.” Unfortunately, I can say more … almost more than I would like upon that particular subject. “But so long as I am with him and he is with me, as long as we are together, then … then he will be my light, and I will always take joy in his presence, as I hope that he will in mine.”

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. “Pyrrha?” Jaune said. “Are you ready?”

Kendal’s eyebrows rose. “Well? Are you?”

Pyrrha glanced down at her nails. She had painted them red tonight, matching her dress. “I believe I am, yes,” she said, smiling as she picked up a shawl of golden silk and draped it around her body, falling towards the floor as it rested on her elbows.

Kendal made way for her, although in the cramped conditions of her room, that meant getting up onto the camp bed so that Pyrrha could walk down the central aisle of the room and open the door.

Jaune stood on the other side, dressed in his black suit.

“Hey!” His eyes widened and his mouth opened at the sight of her. “You look amazing. As always.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered, a bright smile lighting up her face. “And you changed.”

“Well, you make an effort every night. I figured that I could do worse than to do the same,” Jaune said. “And Mom had washed my suit for me, so there wasn’t anything to stop me from wearing it.”

“You look very handsome,” Pyrrha said. “Although, if I may say, you looked better in gold.”

“Really? That’s … something I’ll keep in mind,” Jaune said. He looked as though he were about to hold out his arm to her, but did not. Instead, he reached out his hands towards her, taking hers in his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Pyrrha said quickly.

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “You can be honest. I won’t … you don’t have to pretend with me, remember? If it had gotten to you … I wouldn’t blame you. If you didn’t want to go downstairs, I wouldn’t blame you either. Seriously, are you okay?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. She kept her eyes fixed on him, her green eyes staring into his blue ones. “Did you ever think that it might be true?”

“No,” Jaune said. “I know that if you fall for someone else, you’ll tell me first.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha sighed. “But you thought that I could have fallen for someone else?”

Jaune shrugged. “It would be kind of arrogant to think you never would, wouldn’t it?”

“Not when I have told you that I will not,” Pyrrha said. “Do you doubt the constancy of my heart?”

“I don’t doubt you in anything,” Jaune insisted. “I doubt myself.”

“You should not,” Pyrrha said, taking one hand away from his to touch his face, first to brush some of the soft hair from out of his forehead and then to stroke his cheek. “You are a better man than those who made you feel small.”

Jaune reached up and took her hand in his once more. His palm was warm against her skin, and his fingers were gentle.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

“If you had doubted me, I would not be,” Pyrrha admitted. “But, since you did not, I am content.”

“And my family?”

“Have acted always out of love for you, as I said.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“With less proof, I would bear more grief,” Pyrrha admitted. “But this other woman was dressed like me, and though she wasn’t wearing my circlet, I suppose they haven’t known me long enough to realise that I am so rarely seen without it. I told you, I did not want to make you choose between us; I will not, now that they are contrite, and with their reasons and actions being understandable.”

Jaune leaned forwards and kissed her. “You’re amazing,” he said.

If only that were true, Pyrrha thought. “And you are the only man whom I desire.” If I say it often enough, perhaps you will believe it.

Jaune nodded, a smile playing across his face as he took a step back, and this time, he did offer her his arm. “If you want to go down, if you’re determined … shall we go?”

Pyrrha placed her hand upon his elbow. “I think we shall,” she said.

They walked together down the stairs, her hand upon his arm, the other resting lightly upon the bannister, as Kendal trailed behind them, following upon their heels.

The three of them were amongst the last to arrive; even Aoko was seated at the table when they got there; aside from Jaune, Pyrrha, and Kendal, the only other people missing were Adrian, who was probably upstairs in his room, Sky, and Sunset.

River did not meet Pyrrha’s eyes. She looked everywhere in the room but at Pyrrha and Jaune. Chester put his hands upon her shoulders and whispered something into her ear. Violet looked sullen, pouting and crossing her arms. Rouge … Rouge bore an expression that Pyrrha knew well: of studied, practiced lack of emotion. The kind of face you wore when you didn’t want anyone to know what you were feeling, and so you acted as though you felt practically nothing at all.

Pyrrha’s heart went out to her; she wanted to say something, but … but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She could hardly imagine — she couldn’t imagine — what Jaune’s eldest sister was going through: to have been betrayed, repeatedly, by the person who was supposed to love you most, to cherish you most, to be your rock and support and helpmate for all your life. To have been betrayed by them and to know about it and to … to put up with it, to almost convince yourself that you deserved it?

No, Pyrrha could not imagine what Rouge was going through, what she had gone through all these years.

And, having no idea, she had no idea what she could say on the subject, although it seemed as though Rouge needed someone to say something to her.

All Pyrrha could do was hope that she found the happiness that had eluded her so far.

“Jaune,” Gold said. “Pyrrha. You look very nice.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Pyrrha,” Violet muttered, before saying something else so quietly that Pyrrha couldn’t hear it.

“Excuse me?” Pyrrha asked.

Violet sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you earlier,” she said, every word sounding like it was being dragged out of her.

“Apology accepted, Violet. I’m sure it looked convincing to someone who didn’t know me.”

“Ruben could be a bit of a jackass,” Chester said, “but we all thought he had the best interests of the family at heart. He … always seemed to know what he was doing.”

“He knew what he was doing alright,” Kendal muttered.

“I blame myself,” said Gold.

“Dad,” Rouge began, “it isn’t—”

“Yes,” Gold said, “it is. I’m the one who thought that he would be a good husband for you, I’m the one who gave him my blessing, I … I’m sorry, sweetie. I made a terrible choice, and you’ve paid for it.”

“Perhaps there’s a lesson here,” Kendal said. “About how we should all stop interfering in one another’s love lives.”

Gold looked at her. “Is this the part where you tell us that you have a boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“N-no, Dad, I … I just—”

“I think what Kendal is saying,” Saphron said, “is that not everyone was very welcoming to Terra at first, just like not everyone was very welcoming to Pyrrha, and yet … it turns out that we knew what was best for ourselves.”

“I feel the need to point out that my marriage is going pretty well too,” River pointed out.

“Nevertheless,” Rouge said. “Saphron, and Kendal, have a point. Perhaps we could do with being a little less judgemental and controlling.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Jaune. “Treat her right, Jaune,” she said. “Don’t hurt her or take her for granted.”

“That,” Gold said, “might be the only advice you ever need for a happy partnership.”

Pyrrha heard the front door open, and footsteps in the hall, before Sky led Sunset into the dining room. Sky had exchanged her sheriff’s uniform for a white blouse and black skirt. Sunset was wearing a one-piece summer dress of purple, shading into pink as it descended towards the hem of her skirt, which was short and stopped above her knees. Upon her chest was stamped her flaming sun symbol, while the off-the-shoulder neckline exposed a pair of spaghetti straps across her shoulders. Around her neck, Sunset was wearing a dark purple choker, while her gloves upon her hands and arms added an incongruous touch to her outfit.

As, in point of fact, did her boots.

“Good evening, everyone,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha, Jaune.”

“Good evening, Sunset,” Pyrrha said.

“Hey, Sunset,” said Jaune.

“Well, now that everyone’s here, I’ll start getting everything out onto the table,” Honeysuckle said as she turned towards the kitchen.

“I’ll help, Mom,” Rouge said.

“No, dear, you sit down,” Honeysuckle insisted. “Sky can give me a hand, can’t you?”

Sky smiled. “Sure thing, Mom.” She followed her mother into the kitchen, the doors swinging back and forth after her as she passed in.

Gold sat down at the head of the table. “Go ahead, sit down, everyone,” he said, gesturing to the empty spaces with both hands. “Jaune, why don’t you sit up at the top next to your mother, and Pyrrha you can sit up there next to Rouge?”

Jaune’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t,” Gold said, “come on!”

It had been somewhat clear from her first night here in Alba Longa with the Arcs that the place at the table was correlated to status in the family, if only on a temporary basis, with father and mother at the top, with the eldest daughter sitting likewise near the head. Pyrrha could not help but recall that, on that first night, she and Jaune had found themselves sitting near the bottom of the table.

Although she did not think Aoko had sat at the very foot of the table because she was in bad odour with the family; rather, given that she took that seat again tonight, it seemed that she just liked it there.

It was not an exact correlation; nevertheless, it seemed from Jaune’s reaction to mean something, and what it meant was good.

That was … also good. Despite what had happened, despite the attitudes of certain members of the family, Pyrrha’s objectives were unchanged: she wanted their acceptance, so that when — if, but she very much hoped when — Jaune made her truly a part of his family, they would not stand in her way.

And that, she thought, she had accomplished. At the party, when they had invited her to join them, that had shown their true feelings towards her; what came after, what seeming proof of malice had made them think … and now, she thought that they were embarrassed by the way that some of them had behaved, but she did not think they bore her any malice.

The fact that she and Jaune had been invited to sit up at the top of the table was proof of that.

Jaune pulled out a chair for her, and Pyrrha smiled at him as she sat down, pulling her shawl up onto her shoulders so that it didn’t fall onto the floor.

Kendal took the seat next to Jaune, while by unspoken consensus, the seat next to Pyrrha — the one on her left, the one on her right being taken by Rouge — seemed to be left empty for Sky, just as the seat on Gold’s right was left for Honeysuckle. Sunset took the chair next to Sky, giving her a temporarily empty space from which to look up at Pyrrha, while Violet sat next to her, Terra opposite, and Saphron next to Terra; River and Chester took the farthest most seats down at the foot of the table with Aoko.

Honeysuckle and Sky brought out the meal, which tonight was a joint of lamb, cooked in a red wine sauce with mushrooms, parsnips, carrots, and onions, and served alongside new potatoes, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, broccoli, and cauliflower. As before, everyone helped themselves to the vegetables, but Honeysuckle sliced the lamb as plates were passed down to her, stopping when everyone said that they were satisfied.

“No, thank you, ma’am,” Sunset said, raising one hand when it was her turn to pass her plate up. “I don’t eat meat.”

“Oh, right,” Jaune winced, “Yeah, I probably should have said something.”

“Yes,” Sunset said, “yes, you probably should.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t eat meat?” Gold repeated. “Not at all?”

“No, sir,” Sunset said. “I’m afraid I’m not secure enough in my superiority over animals.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Honeysuckle asked. “Or do you need me to—?”

“I will be fine, ma’am; there is plenty else,” Sunset assured her. “I wouldn’t want you to let your own meal grow cold on my account.”

Sky dished up the sauce, ladling it and its attendant vegetables out onto the meat and onto the potatoes. Once done, once every plate — even Sunset’s — was laden down with food, then Sky and Honeysuckle sat down.

“I’d like to say grace, if that’s okay with everybody?” Sky said.

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Gold replied.

Sky held out her hands to Pyrrha and Sunset. Pyrrha smiled a little, her lips closed as she placed her hand inside Sky’s palm.

Sunset looked a little confused, but did the same, and after a moment, she held out her hand for River sat beside her.

Sky was silent.

“We give thanks,” she said. “We give thanks…” She looked around the table. “We give thanks for the fact that we are still here. We give thanks for the fact that, although some of us may wander far from home, we are still and will always be a family, bound together, no matter what life throws at us, how difficult or unexpected, no matter how much we drive one another crazy sometimes. We give thanks for the fact that this family keeps on growing, with Terra, with Adrian, with the little one growing inside of River … and with Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune’s girlfriend. We give thanks for the fact that she still wants to be Jaune’s girlfriend after all we’ve put her through.”

Kendal snorted. Pyrrha couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“We give thanks for the fact that although we may make mistakes, we have the chance to learn from them and to do better. Because, like our great-great-grandfather said, the future is in our hands.

“For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful.”

Everyone began to eat, and for a moment, there was no sound but the clicking of cutlery upon plates.

“May I say, ma’am, that that is a rather nice ring on your finger,” Sunset said.

Honeysuckle glanced down at said finger, and upon the emerald ring that glistened there. “Oh? Oh, yes, it is lovely, isn’t it? Gold gave it to me when he asked me to marry him.”

Sunset smiled. “Even at this distance, I can tell you have good taste, sir.”

Gold chuckled. “I’d love to take credit for that, but that ring belonged to my mother; she gave it to me when she realised that I was serious about Honeysuckle, so that I could pass it on.”

“Ah, an antique,” Sunset said. “I don’t suppose that your father got it from his mother to give to yours, by any chance?”

Gold was silent for a moment. “Yeah, yeah my father did say something about that.”

“A family heirloom,” Sunset murmured. “Ma’am, this may sound impertinent, but I don’t suppose I could look at the ring briefly?”

“Why?” asked Kendal.

“It goes back at least three generations; it may be older still,” Sunset explained.

“It’s just a ring,” said Saphron.

“Perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “But there may be something in it. With your permission, ma’am.”

“I don’t see what you expect to learn from a ring, like Kendal said, but if you’re interested,” Honeysuckle said, taking the emerald ring off her finger and passing it to Jaune, who passed it down to Kendal, who passed it across the table to Sky, and seemed to do so in such a way that Pyrrha could get a good look at the ring, which was more detailed than it had looked from the moderate distance at which she had seen it glimmering upon Honeysuckle’s finger. It was, in any event, a beautiful ring, with a large emerald — large for a ring, at least — set in a band of gold, but the gold that held the stone in place was thicker than one might have expected and styled in such a way that it resembled the golden crescents that Jaune bore upon his shield: two arcs of gold — or Arcs of gold — holding the emerald in place. And, now that Pyrrha could look at it more closely, she could see that what she had taken to be a band of gold was in fact a pair of serpents coiling around one another, their mouths meeting around the stone.

Sky passed the ring to Sunset, who turned it over in her hands, examining every part of it, even the insides.

“Fine work,” she murmured. “May I take some pictures?”

“Be my guest,” Honeysuckle said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Sunset said as she got out her scroll — she was keeping it strapped to her arm, hidden beneath the collar of her dress — and took several pictures of the exterior and the interior of the ring. “Thank you, again,” she said as she handed the ring back to Sky.

The ring made its way back to Honeysuckle Arc, and the meal continued for a little longer.

“Mom, Dad, everyone,” Jaune said, before he stuck a forkful of lamb in his mouth, rendering the rest of what he had to say quite unintelligible.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Honeysuckle reproached him gently.

Jaune swallowed. “Sorry, Mom. What I was trying to say was that me and Pyrrha and Sunset will be leaving tomorrow, to go back to Beacon.”

There was a moment of silence at the table.

“Had to happen sometime, I guess,” Sky said.

“So soon?” Honeysuckle asked. “You’ve only just arrived. Your friend has literally only just arrived.”

“If there had been more to find, I would have stayed longer, ma’am, though I cannot speak for Jaune and Pyrrha,” Sunset said. “But, for myself … my being here any longer would be futile; there is nothing to be learned earlier than the history of this place itself, and that does not concern me.”

“Because founding a town isn’t enough?” River asked.

“A town a little more than one hundred years ago?” Sunset asked. “No, not when set against the heritage that Pyrrha can boast of.” She snorted. “Not that Pyrrha boasts, of course.”

“So … are you like Pyrrha’s mom’s spy?” asked Violet.

Sunset leaned back in her chair a little. “No,” she said. “I am not a spy. If I were, I would hardly be sitting down to dinner with you all — by the way, ma’am, these sweet potatoes are very well cooked — would I?” She paused. “But I am her sworn woman, I suppose. She gave me a blade which once belonged to a retainer of her family, and what is more, I have taken a monthly stipend against my combat expenses. I am bound to her, by ties of duty and honour.”

“Or why else would you come up here to research our family history so that she can decide if Jaune is worthy to date Pyrrha,” Kendal said. “It’s not exactly any of your concern, is it?”

“The happiness of my teammates is absolutely my concern,” Sunset replied.

“'Teammates'?” Rouge repeated. “Not friends.”

“They are my friends too, do not mistake me,” Sunset corrected. “But as a mere friend. I would have no … duty of care.”

“'Duty of care'?” Sky repeated.

Sunset smiled. “If I thought that these two were bad for one another, I would be as zealous in trying to separate them as I think that you have been, at various times.”

Silence fell in response to that remark.

“Perhaps the fact that you have been so zealous rendered that in somewhat poor taste,” Sunset muttered.

“A little bit, yeah,” Jaune said.

“Don’t say it like that!” Sunset cried. “Have I ever been anything less than a hundred percent supportive of the two of you?”

Do the times that you have implied or outright stated that I could do better count? Pyrrha wondered. However, she did not mention them, in part because she didn’t want to knock Jaune’s confidence, and in part because — as far as she knew, but she trusted Sunset so far in this; she did not believe that she would say such things to Jaune — she had only said them privately to Pyrrha, and even then without the intent to persuade her to change her conduct in any way. In that sense, she had been nothing but benign.

“No,” Jaune admitted. “No, you’ve been a big help, actually.”

“I only wish that I could have taught you enough to impress Lady Nikos, the way that Pyrrha has impressed your relatives,” Sunset murmured.

“'Lady Nikos'?” Sky said. “Is that … is that what you call Pyrrha’s mom?”

Sunset glanced at her. “I could hardly call her ‘Pyrrha’s mom,’ could I?” She placed some broccoli into her mouth.

“Doesn’t she have a name?” asked Chester.

“Her name is Lady Nikos,” Sunset replied.

“My mother’s name is Hippolyta,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Which I have not been invited to use,” Sunset pointed out. “Better to be too respectful than not enough.”

“Is that a thing?” Saphron whispered to Terra. “Do you just call people ‘Lady This’ or ‘Lord That’?”

“In Mistral proper, yes,” Terra informed her. “The chances of finding a lord or lady in Argus are very slim, and even if you did, there’s sufficient Atlesian influence upon the city that you could probably get away with not observing that particular courtesy, but the short answer … yes.”

“Your culture can be very strange sometimes.”

“My culture is perfectly normal,” Terra declared. “Your culture is crass and boorish and wears its hat in the parlour. And besides, you chose to live in Argus; I didn’t move to Vale.”

“A decision I haven’t regretted for a moment,” Saphron said, kissing Terra on the cheek. “Wait, does that mean we should have been calling Pyrrha ‘Lady Pyrrha’?”

“No,” Pyrrha said firmly. “There is absolutely no need for that.”

“So…” Violet began, and then trailed off for a second, before saying, “are you going to tell her that we thought Pyrrha was cheating on Jaune?”

“Violet, is there really any need to ask that here?” Rouge demanded.

“I want to know if we’ve made any trouble for Jaune,” Violet explained.

“I will say nothing of it,” Sunset declared. “What is there to say, after all? An odious toad attempted to slander Pyrrha’s reputation, but Pyrrha’s reputation proved to be beyond slander. Such petty pibble pabble is nothing that need reach the ears of Lady Nikos.”

“Thank you, Sunset,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“Much obliged, Miss Shimmer,” Rouge added.

Sunset shrugged. “As I said: one hundred percent supportive.”

“So do you have to leave?” Honeysuckle asked, returning to the initial point. “Surely you and Pyrrha—”

“I guess that Jaune and Pyrrha have to join the rest of their team in preparing for the Vytal Festival,” Gold said. “Assuming that you plan to compete.”

“Oh, we’re going to compete,” Sunset declared. “Apart from all other considerations — such as the fact that I relish this opportunity — if Pyrrha did not fight, then the howls of outrage from Mistral would be heard in Argus, no?”

“They would be howling in Argus,” Terra corrected her. “You’d be able to hear it over here.”

“What is the Vytal Festival?” asked River.

“You don’t know— wait, Jaune didn’t even know about aura, of course you don’t know what the Vytal Festival is,” Sunset muttered.

“The Vytal Festival is held every two years in one of the four kingdoms,” Gold explained. “They take turns hosting it, and this year, it’s the turn of Vale, and Beacon Academy. It’s a celebration of the end of the Great War, and peace between all four kingdoms. There are parades, parties, but the big centrepiece is a tournament of students from the four academies: Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade. Teams from all the schools — teams like the one that Jaune is on with Pyrrha and Miss Shimmer here — fight one another in mock battles in a giant floating arena up in the sky, and the huntsman or huntress who defeats all challengers is crowned the winner.”

“I don’t understand why the number of huntsmen gets smaller,” Aoko said from the bottom of the table.

“Because people are losing their fights, I guess,” River answered.

“That’s not what your sister means,” Gold said. “You see, in the first round, all four members of each team fight, but in the second round, the teams that win the first match select just two people to go forward and fight two people from another team who won their match, and then of the pair who win, only a single member goes on to the final round, where they fight other winners in single combat.”

“That will be Pyrrha,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha said nothing and ate her dinner.

“Did you fight in the tournament, Dad?” asked Jaune.

“My team won the first round match, but they didn’t pick me to go into the two on two,” Gold explained. “More fool them, they got knocked out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“We were always an outside chance,” Gold said. “And when there can only be one winner, well, then there have to be a lot of losers, right? But, I had a great time at the festival, and getting to fight in that arena in front of all those people — what a rush!”

Pyrrha smiled. “It is quite exhilarating,” she agreed. “The roar of the crowd in your ears, the sound of their applause, their cheering. It can be intimidating, to have so many eyes upon you, so many hopes resting on your shoulders, but … quite exciting, at the same time.”

Gold nodded. “You know, if you two are going to compete,” he said, “we might…”

“Dad?” Kendal prompted, as he fell silent.

“I was just thinking, we might actually have to get a TV so that we can watch it,” Gold said.

“Jaune’s going to be on TV?!” Violet cried.

“The Vytal Festival is one of the biggest events in all of Remnant,” Gold said. “It’s televised everywhere, live. And it … you know, it wouldn’t feel right for Jaune to be fighting in front of millions of people and not be watching him ourselves.”

“Yes, we have to support Jaune and Pyrrha,” Rouge declared. “That’s a great idea, Dad.”

“You’re all going to be watching?” Jaune said. “I don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified.”

“It will be fine, Jaune,” Pyrrha assured him. “Believe me when I say that the terrors of the arena are nothing compared to some of the things that we’ve been through recently.”

Jaune looked up at her. “No, no, I guess they’re not, are they?”

“How are you two feeling?” Terra asked. “Confident?”

“Yeah!” Sunset cried. “We’re going to blow our way to the one on one round, and once we get there … Pyrrha will do what she does best.”

What I do best indeed. Perhaps the only thing that I can do.

“I … will do my utmost not to disappoint anybody,” Pyrrha said. “I will honour the expectations that everyone has of me and bear the dignity of Team Sapphire proudly.”

“Count on us,” Sunset said. “Because we’re going to go all the way.”

“I hope so, because we’ll all be watching,” Gold said. “A toast, everyone: to Jaune and Pyrrha, success … and happiness.”

Pyrrha felt a blush rise to her cheeks as everyone raised their glasses.

“To Jaune and Pyrrha!”

“Jaune?” Mom called from the other side of the bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, just a second, Mom,” Jaune replied. He’d been in the middle of getting ready for bed, with his jacket and shirt off but with his trousers still on. He grabbed his hoodie off the bed and pulled it over his head. Then he opened the door. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, dear, everything’s fine,” Mom said, a bright smile upon her face. “Everything’s wonderful. Of course I’m sad that you’re leaving so soon, but … I suppose you had to go away again sometime.”

Jaune nodded and smiled himself. “Yeah, Mom, I did. Just like I told you I would.”

“I’m not here to argue about that, Jaune, believe me,” Mom assured her. “You’ve made your choice … in every way. Can I come in? I feel awkward standing out here, and besides…” — she glanced down the hall — “someone might see me.”

Jaune frowned, not knowing why it would matter if someone saw Mom in her own house talking to him. “Um, okay, come on in.”

He stepped back, letting her enter.

Mom walked inside his room, closing the door behind her. She looked around, a sigh escaping from her lips. “I remember when I used to come in here to see if you’d cleaned this place like I told you to or not,” she said. “I remember when you used to try and hide the comic books you’d been reading from me.”

“And you always found them anyway,” Jaune said, a little laughter in his voice.

“Mothers always know, or they should,” Mom said. She half turned away from him, clasping her hands together. “I know that I haven’t always been the best mother, and I’m sorry for that—”

“Mom, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, Jaune, I do,” Mom replied, looking at him even though she didn’t actually turn to face him. “You weren’t happy here. You were so unhappy that you ran away from home, and that … that is at least partly my fault. I thought more about what I wanted than about what you wanted, when all I really ought to have wanted was that you’d be happy. I only hope that … that even if I am responsible for you being unhappy, I’m also partly responsible for the fact that you’ve been able to do so well out there in the world.”

“You are, Mom, definitely,” Jaune said. “My teammates definitely appreciate that you taught me to cook.”

Mom chuckled. “Well, that’s wonderful to hear.” She paused for a moment. “I was always a little worried that you’d end up alone. I suppose that should have been a sign to me that you needed to leave this place, get out of here, find people who understood you better. And you did, and I … I’m so happy for you Jaune.”

“Mom,” Jaune murmured. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I think the time has come,” Mom said, “for me to do what every Arc mother does, when the time is right.” She plucked the ring from off her finger and held it out to him. “This is for you to give to Pyrrha.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “Mom, you … are you serious?”

“I’ve spoken to your father, and he agrees,” Mom said. “Since we don’t know when or if you’ll be back here, we don’t want to miss this chance.”

Jaune stared at the ring that was being proffered to him. His mother’s ring, the ring that Dad had given her when he asked her to marry him, the ring that grandma had gotten from grandpa, and that great-grandma had probably gotten from great-grandpa too, and who knew how far back it went?

“What … what about Rouge or River?”

“That’s not how this works, Jaune,” Mom said, shaking her head. “It’s for Arc men to give to the loves of their lives.”

The love of my life. Pyrrha was certainly that, but … but this ring. An engagement ring, the family engagement ring. It looked so big. It looked so heavy. It looked like such a big, heavy thing to take and then to carry around.

Pyrrha was his future. He knew that, and they had talked about what that would look like, and what that would look like included marrying her, but…

“I don’t know if I can,” he murmured.

“You love her, don’t you?” Mom asked.

“Of course I do, but … I don’t know if I’m ready,” Jaune admitted, his voice hoarse.

“Oh, Jaune,” Mom said. “You don’t have to ask her to marry you tomorrow, or next week, or even next year. In your heart, you’ll know when the time is right, and when you do … you’ll be prepared. Take it, Jaune. When else are we going to be able to give it to you?”

She had a point there; he might not be back here … well, the point was that he didn’t know when he’d be back, which was also Mom’s point, that was why she was giving him the ring now, so that he was, as she said, prepared.

He wasn’t ready right now. It didn’t feel right, when they were still in school, when he still hadn’t really proven himself at all — at least not to his own satisfaction — when he still hadn’t really gained the acceptance of Pyrrha’s mother. It was one thing for Pyrrha to date him in spite of what her mother thought, but if they were going to live in Pyrrha’s house as man and wife, it would be good if she could at least tolerate him.

He wasn’t ready.

But, one day … Jaune found that he could imagine the scene: that place in Mistral that Pyrrha had brought them to, the high place with that great view of the whole city and the waterfall crashing down the side of the mountain. He’d wait until the sun was going down and bathing the world in a warm golden glow, and then … and then he’d get down on one knee and pull out the ring. He’d pull out that ring.

Gently, he reached out and took the ring from his mother’s hand.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t know when exactly I’ll give this to Pyrrha, but I will one day. Thanks, Mom.”

Author's Note

Art by Miku

Rising Temperature (New)

Rising Temperature

Nora slurped loudly from the large slushy she gripped in both hands as she walked down the street.

“Is it me, or did the guy who sold this seem kind of rude?” she asked

“Probably just having a bad day,” Ruby said.

“I guess,” Nora murmured, before putting her lips around the straw again and slurping even more of her orange and mango drink, making the level in the plastic cup drop dramatically.

Yang tucked her hands behind the back of her head. “So, what do you guys want to do first?”

Nora stopped slurping and raised her hand in the air. “Ooh, we should totally check out the new axe-throwing place that just opened up. You throw axes.”

Yang grinned. “That does sound pretty cool. What do you think, Ruby?”

Ruby nodded. “Sure, why not?”

“Ren?” Yang asked.

Ren shrugged. “If you’re all happy, then I am happy.”

“That’s not exactly a full-throated endorsement,” Nora pointed out. “Is there something that you’d rather do instead?”

“Why make it a question of 'instead'?” Yang asked before Ren could respond. “We’ve got all day, after all; it’s not like we need to get back to Beacon for anything. If there’s anything that Ren wants to do, then we can do that too. Something caught your eye, Ren?”

Ren was silent for a moment.

“It’s not one or the other, really,” Yang insisted. “You can say what you want to do and not feel bad about it.”

“Then I wouldn’t mind visiting the Escape Room on Mortimer Row,” Ren said. “It’s supposed to be very challenging.”

“Aww, I’m no good at those things,” Nora moaned.

“And I don’t have the best record at things like axe throwing,” Ren pointed out.

“Settle down, children; like I said, it isn’t one or the other,” Yang declared. “How about you, Ruby?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to do today?” Yang asked.

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured, cupping her chin with one hand as she thought. “Well…” She paused, catching sight of a series of posters plastered to the sides of the building she was passing by. She turned away from Yang and the others to get a better look at it.

The poster had a red background on which was depicted an android, bulkier than an Atlesian combat droid, wearing a sparkling red jacket, while its chest had been painted to look like a white shirt and a red bow tie. The robot was also wearing a top hat, while its face had been painted to resemble clown makeup, with a bright red smile stretching in an exaggerated U across its face and a red nose that looked like it was flashing.

Behind the android that was at once ringmaster and clown were pictures of a robot elephant rearing up and a robot lion baring its teeth.

“'Starhead Industries presents,'” Ruby said. “'Remnant’s first ever robot circus. See robots like you’ve never seen them before.' Hey, that sounds like it might be fun.”

“A circus?” Yang said, a little sceptically.

“A robot circus,” Ruby corrected her, turning back to the rest of the group. “Even if it isn’t great, it’ll be cool to see how they got all of the different robots to work. I wonder if they’ll have robot clowns, because programming humour must be really hard.”

“Maybe they’ll just have scary clowns,” Yang muttered. “But if that’s what you want, then sure, we’ll fit that in.”

The four of them were in Vale, where the day was bright, and — despite the fact that summer was drawing to an end and fall was rapidly approaching — the day was pretty warm. The city bustled around them, pretty much back to its former busyness after the shock of the Breach had temporarily driven people off the streets and into the shelter of their homes. It seemed like Councillor Emerald’s insistence that everything was going to be okay had done the trick, or maybe it was the arrival of General Ironwood’s reinforcements, or maybe it was just the fact that nothing bad had happened since the Breach that had made people feel safe again.

Either way, it seemed like everyone was out and about today, on the streets, in their cars, coming in and out of the subway stations; street vendors took advantage of the last days of the hot weather to hawk ice creams out of vans or little stalls, along with lemonade, or slushies like the one that Nora was drinking so rapidly despite its size.

With Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune all away, Ruby had joined the members of Team YRBN who weren’t called Blake for a day out, and the four of them ambled idly down the street, without much purpose or direction — until now, anyway.

“You don’t like circuses, Yang?” Nora asked.

“I’ve got nothing against them,” Yang replied. “I just think … they’re a bit for kids, you know?”

“Not necessarily,” Nora said. “We used to get all adults showing up sometimes, didn’t we, Ren?”

“On occasion, yes,” Ren agreed.

“'We'?” Ruby asked.

Nora gasped. “Did I never tell you that Ren and I used to work in a circus? Does that mean that I never told you about Ethel either?”

“Who's Ethel?” asked Yang.

“First things first,” Nora replied, skipping ahead of the others for a few steps, the strings of the bow at the back of her waist streaming out behind her, then whirling around her body as she turned back to face the rest of them. She started walking backwards, arms spread out on either side of her. “So, this all happened … a couple of years ago, right, Ren?”

“That’s about right, yes.”

“Ren was determined to get to Beacon Academy,” Nora said. “He had his heart set on it, didn’t you, Ren?”

“Beacon’s reputation is unparalleled,” Ren murmured. “I believed that we would receive a far higher standard of education here.”

“But to get there, we had to make enough money to afford to get to Vale,” Nora declared. “So, we got jobs at the circus! Ren never got any further than the monkey cage,” she added, laughter in her voice. “But I loved it there: the bright colours, the sounds, the animals, the costumes. It was awesome!” She twirled on her toe, humming a tune as she did so.

Yang chuckled. “What did you do in the circus?”

“We did everything,” Ren said.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Nora agreed. “We used to clean out the animal cages, we helped to set up the big top, Ren cooked.”

“You weren’t performers, then?” Ruby asked, a little disappointedly.

“Oh no, we got to be in the show too,” Nora declared. “Why, they said that Ren was the best natural whiteface clown they’d ever seen.”

“Mmm,” Ren murmured.

Ruby frowned. “Which is the whiteface clown?”

“The one who gets hit in the face with the custard pie,” Ren informed her dryly.

Yang blinked. “Were you an actual circus clown?”

“I took some lessons, under duress,” Ren said. “I never performed.”

“But I threw knives!” Nora said. “I was awesome at it.”

“I was the target you practiced on; we never performed that either,” said Ren.

“And we helped with the cannon trick.”

“We brought down the big top by using too much dust in the cannon,” Ren admitted.

“Pssh, anyone could have made that mistake,” Nora said. “Besides, it was totally worth it.” She sighed. “It was a magical time, but sadly, it wasn’t to last forever. After seven weeks of continuous rain and no business, that circus had to fold up; the owner was flat broke. So, to pay everyone in place of the money they were owed, he decided to divide up the show, so that everyone would get something valuable in place of money. He put all the items in a hat, and what each one of us drew, we got.” Nora paused. “I got the flea circus. I wonder whatever happened to those fleas.”

“I prefer not to think about it,” Ren muttered as he started scratching at his chest.

“And Ren,” Nora went on, “drew Ethel, the human chimp. She read, wrote, played the piano, and milked a cow. And wore a pretty cute tutu as well.”

Yang glanced at Ren, who said nothing.

“I liked her,” Nora continued. “I liked her a whole lot. I feel like we got each other, you know? But, Ren had a point that we couldn’t exactly take her with us on our journey, and that if we sold her to a zoo or something, we’d have enough money to make it to Vale. Ren planned to put Ethel in a crate he was making himself, but the lion chased us off before he could finish it.”

Yang and Ruby both looked at Ren, who still said nothing.

“The night was dark,” Nora said. “They usually are, after all.”

“Except in summer,” Ruby pointed out.

“Right,” Nora conceded. “Anyway, there we were, me, Ren, and Ethel, wandering the streets of Mistral together with a lion on the loose. We could have really used a place to stay, so Ren said to me ‘let’s get a room.’ And I said, ‘Alright, let’s get a room with twin beds.’ ‘Why twin beds?’ asked Ren. ‘One for me,’ I said. And then Ren said, ‘But I can’t sleep with the monkey!’ And I said, ‘Oh, she won’t mind.’ And then I turned to Ethel and asked, ‘You don’t mind sleeping with Ren, do you?’”

Yang was staring at Ren by this point, waiting for some correction that didn’t come. “Did … did that actually happen?”

Ren sighed. “Yes.”

“You really worked in a circus?”

“Correct.”

“And you really got a human chimp in place of payment?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Huh,” Yang said.

“Did you manage to sell her?” asked Ruby.

“She grabbed a gun and shot her way out!” Nora said.

“We got the gun away from her fairly quickly,” Ren corrected.

“How did she manage to get a gun in the first place?” demanded Yang.

“The owner of the boarding house burst in on us with it because he thought Ren was having an affair with his wife!”

Ren sighed. “Unfortunately, that is also true.”

Yang blinked rapidly. “Do I want to know how?”

“In a staggeringly unfortunate coincidence, his wife’s name was also Ethel,” Ren explained.

“Oh,” Ruby and Yang said at the same time.

“Yeah, that would explain it,” Ruby added. “That was unlucky.”

“You two,” Yang said, putting her hands on her hips, “have had a weird, wild life.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Nora said, winking.

Yang shook her head. “Okay,” she said. “So we’ve got axe throwing, escape room, and the robot circus where hopefully we don’t get stuck with a flea circus or a robot human chimp. I wonder what that would look like? Anyway, we’ve got—”

“What about you?” asked Ruby.

Yang looked at her. “What about me?”

“What do you want to do?”

Yang grinned. “I want to make sure that my sister and my friends have the best day, that’s what I want to do.”

“Come on, Ruby’s right,” Nora said, as she fell back into line with the rest of them. “If we’re all getting to do something we want, it’s only fair that you get to do something you want to do as well.”

“Well, if you’re going to twist my arm about it,” Yang said, “we’ll go dancing. Probably best to save that for the end of the day, though; anywhere that’s open earlier will be dead before nightfall. Which means we still have axe throwing, escape room, and the robot circus. Hmm.” Now it was her turn to touch her chin with her fingers, tapping them beneath her lower lip. “Why don’t we hit the escape room first, then the circus, then we can throw axes after dinner and find a cool club for a while before crashing back to school? Does that sound like a plan?”

“Fine by me,” said Ren.

“Sounds great!” Nora cried.

“Sounds like it’s going to be great,” Ruby added.

“That’s settled then,” Yang said. “Lead on to this escape place, Ren. Although, fair warning, you’re probably going to have to do most of the problem-solving yourself.”

“Is that so?” Ren murmured. “We’ll see.”

They walked a little further on down the street. As they walked, their footsteps thumping dully against the paving slabs, Ruby began to hear police sirens sounding not too far away.

“Do you guys hear that?” Ruby asked. “Do you think someone might be in trouble?”

“If they are, it’ll be because they deserve it,” Yang replied.

“You know what I mean,” Ruby said as their steps carried them before the mouth of an alleyway adjoining their street. “We should check it out; maybe we can help.”

“Sure,” Yang agreed, “if we can work out where it’s—”

Sun burst out of the mouth of the alleyway, almost colliding with Yang, who stepped nimbly aside to let him, stumbling to a stop, trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face.

“Sun?” Ruby asked.

Neptune followed Sun out of the alley. “Hey, guys,” he said, waving his hand. “What’s shaking?”

“Do you know anything about those police sirens?” Ruby asked.

Sun groaned wordlessly as he picked himself up off the ground.

Neptune laughed nervously. “They, uh, you see, it’s a funny story—”

“No, it isn’t,” Sun growled.

“No, you’re right, it isn’t,” Neptune admitted. “They’re after us.”

“They’re after you?” Ruby gasped.

“We didn’t do it, I swear!” Neptune protested.

“Didn’t do what?” Yang demanded.

“We didn’t do anything!” Sun cried. “We just … never mind, we gotta go, come on man!”

He took off, with Neptune following after him, darting across the road, weaving between the traffic and dashing into another alley on the other side of the street.

Ruby and the members of Team YRBN watched them go.

“Huh,” Yang said. “I wonder what happened there?”

“Do you think they really didn’t do it?” Nora asked.

“You don’t think they’re guilty of anything, do you?” Ruby asked.

“We don’t know either of them like you do,” Ren pointed out.

“I don’t know them very well,” Ruby murmured, “but I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything to get the police called on them.”

“The police do frequently get called to arrest people for … specious reasons,” Ren allowed.

“Well, if we want to find out what’s really going on, there’s one way to find out,” Yang said. “Hey, boys, wait up a second!”

She started to run across the road, waving to the traffic which slowed or halted to let her pass.

“Thank you!”

Nora looked at Ren. “I guess the escape room is going to have to wait a little bit,” she said.

Ren sighed, but when Nora began to follow Yang, he followed her without any hesitation.

Ruby went too, of course, and the four of them caught up with Sun and Neptune not too far away, having followed them through a tangle of back-alleys and narrow streets between the buildings, even as the sounds of the police sirens faded into the distance behind them.

The boys paused, halfway up a fire escape leading onto the roof of a building — Ruby couldn’t tell what it was, since they were behind it — with a water tower up on that roof. On said roof, the sun was shining, but Sun and Neptune paused only halfway up the metal ladder, Sun half draped across the safety rail while Neptune sat down upon the slightly rusting metal step.

Sun glanced at them. “You didn’t have to follow us,” he pointed out.

Yang grinned. “We were curious,” she said. “It would have been bugging me all day to know why the cops were after you. Especially for something you didn’t do.”

“We didn’t do it,” Neptune insisted.

“Then why were they after you?” Ruby asked.

“You were probably in the wrong place, weren’t you?” Nora guessed. “Somebody didn’t like the look of you in a nice neighbourhood.”

Neptune looked at her. “What makes you say that?”

Nora folded her arms. “You think it’s only faunus that happens to?”

“It wasn’t that,” Sun murmured. “Or … maybe it was that, kind of, but…” He sighed.

Yang stepped forward, stepping around — half over, really — Neptune to climb the steps, which rattled beneath her booted tread, until she was standing beside Sun, just lower than him upon the fire escape.

She reached out and put a fingerless-gloved hand upon his shoulder. “Hey,” she murmured. “I know that you don’t have to talk about it, but … it might help if you did?”

Sun glanced at her, and then glanced away.

Yang nodded. “Well, it seems like you lost them, so maybe—”

“He told me to go back where I came from,” Sun murmured.

Ruby blinked. “Who?”

“We don’t know,” Neptune said. “Some guy. We were minding our own business, and suddenly—”

“Suddenly, this guy shoves a thousand lien into my hand and tells me to go back to where I came from,” Sun said softly. “And I told him thanks, but you know it’s only ten lien for the airship back to Beacon, right?”

Yang chuckled. “What did he say to that?”

“He yelled that I was a thief and I’d stolen his money,” Sun said.

“We tried to give it back to him, but he just kept yelling,” Neptune added. “And then someone called the cops. You know the rest.”

“That’s awful!” Ruby said. “I can’t believe people would do something like that.”

“Can’t you?” Ren asked. “I can.”

Sun looked at them. “Did you … but you’re not—”

“No,” Ren agreed. “We’re not. But we’ve been outsiders before. The fact that we weren’t faunus didn’t help us very much.”

Sun scowled and tapped the railing with both hands. “It’s never happened to me before,” he said.

“Being offered money, or chased by the cops?” Ruby asked.

“It’s not his first time being chased by the cops,” Yang said.

Sun laughed. “They were sailors, not cops, remember?”

Yang nodded. “Yeah, that’s right; they were sailors off the boat.”

“It’s not either of those, anyway,” Sun went on. “I mean, it is my first time being offered money, but … it’s also my first time … dealing with … that, you know.”

“Really?” Ruby gasped, then covered her mouth as she realised how that sounded. “I just … I just meant, in Mistral—”

“He wasn’t actually in Mistral for very long, remember?” Neptune said. “He hopped on a boat to come here.”

“So, in Vacuo, it isn’t that bad?” Yang asked.

“In Vacuo, the strong survive,” Sun declared. “If you’re strong enough to live, then you’re allowed to live, if not … it doesn’t matter whether you’re a human or a faunus.”

“Kind of rough on the people who aren’t strong enough to survive,” Nora murmured.

“They get treated the same all over; it’s just in Vacuo, nobody pretends to care,” Sun said, his tongue sharpening. His brow furrowed. “Sorry, I … I just…”

“It got to you,” Yang murmured.

“People have treated me differently because I’m a faunus before,” Sun admitted. “But never … that. That’s a whole new—”

“Brazen level of jackassery?” Yang suggested.

Sun looked at her and managed to smile. “Yeah,” he said, “something like that.”

“I thought Vale was supposed to be tolerant,” Nora said.

“It is!” insisted Ruby.

“Apparently, not for everyone,” Nora pointed out, gesturing towards Sun.

“That was just…” Ruby trailed off for a moment. “I mean, it was awful, but it was just one guy—”

“And the cops that they called on us,” Neptune pointed out.

“They didn’t know what was really going on,” Ruby replied. “They just got a call about a thief.”

“That’s true, I suppose,” Neptune admitted. “Didn’t make it nicer having to run away from them.”

“No,” Ruby murmured. “No, I guess not.” Her voice rose. “But my point is … my point is that stuff like that, well, it just doesn’t happen here, not in Vale.”

“It did,” Neptune said bluntly.

“But Ruby’s right, what you just said is kind of, well, it’s a little much, isn’t it?” Nora pointed out. “The people who tried to run me and Ren out of places never gave us any money to get rid of us. You wouldn’t believe it in Mistral or Atlas, let alone in Vale.”

“I get what you mean,” Sun assured them. “Lots of folks here in Vale have been nice and friendly, just like its reputation.” He grinned. “Perhaps we just ran into the one guy in Vale who really hates faunus? The one guy stupid enough to believe that we all moved here from Menagerie?”

“Yeah,” Yang agreed, a mixture of lightness and uncertainty in her voice. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” She paused for a moment. “So … are you okay?”

“Uh huh,” Sun said, as he turned to face her. “I’m fine. I’m always fine.”

“Really?” Yang asked. “'Cause you know, it’s okay to admit when you’re not.”

“Why?” Sun asked her in turn. “Why do you care?”

Yang smiled. “'Cause sunshine is in my name,” she said, with a brightness in her voice that verged on excessive. “And … because Blake isn’t here right now, so if you want to lean on someone … you can lean on me, if you want to.”

Sun chuckled. “Blake … isn’t the kind of person you lean on.”

“No,” Yang agreed. “No, I guess not.”

“But thanks anyway,” Sun told her. “I’ll keep it in mind … but right now, I really am fine.”

“I’m fine too, if anyone cares,” Neptune added. “Unless being not fine is going to get me a hug from a hot girl, in which case, I am so totally not fine. I am so far from fine that I could walk five hundred miles, and fine would still be way over … I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Nora said.

“First of all, you’re not the one who just became a victim of racism,” Yang said. “And second of all, aren’t you dating that Atlesian girl, what’s her name—?”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Ruby said.

“It’s just a hug,” Neptune said.

“It’s not happening,” replied Nora.

“So, anyway,” Yang said, “what are you guys up to? Or were you up to? What are you up to?”

“Not much,” Sun said. “We were just going to see what happened.”

“We sure saw what happened,” Neptune added.

Yang glanced at Ruby and her teammates. “Well, if you want,” she said, “you can always come along with us.”

“Where?” Neptune asked.

“An escape room, a robot circus, axe throwing, and a hot dance club,” Yang declared.

“That sounds like a full day,” Neptune declared.

“It’s not completely full if there’s anything you want to do as well,” Yang replied. “Book your slots before they fill up.”

“What’s a robot circus?” asked Sun.

“It’s like a regular circus, but with robots,” answered Yang.

“Okay,” Sun said, “next question, what’s a circus?”

Silence greeted this question.

“You don’t know what a circus is?” Ruby asked.

“We never had them in Vacuo,” Sun told her.

“Okay, you have to come with us!” Ruby cried. “This is going to be great. You’ll get to experience all the fun of a regular circus and a whole bunch of cool robots!”

Sun looked at Neptune. “What do you think, man?”

“Yeah, sure,” Neptune replied, getting to his feet. “I mean, why not, right? It’s not like we had anything cooler lined up.”

“Next stop: the robot circus!” Nora declared, pointing her hand into the air.

“Ahem,” Ren said.

“Next stop: the escape room,” Yang corrected. “Don’t worry, Ren, I hadn’t forgotten.”

“What’s an escape room?”

“Did you have any entertainment in Vacuo at all?” Yang demanded.

“It’s a room you get locked into, and then you have to escape,” Neptune explained.

“Huh? That’s easy; I’ll just break down the door,” Sun said.

“That’s not the point,” Ren said calmly. “The point is to escape through solving puzzles and displaying mental agility.”

“Mental agility, huh?” Sun repeated. “Is that why we’ve never been to one of these things before?”

“No, we’ve never been to one of these because if we did, Scarlet would try and leave you locked in,” Neptune explained.

Neptune, Yang, and Sun trooped down the stairs of the fire escape, making the metal shake and rattle as they came to join the others. As she led them all out of the side alley, Yang got out her scroll, bringing up a map of all their destinations — all save the club, because she hadn’t chosen it yet — that they were going to visit throughout the day.

“Seriously, guys,” she said to Sun and Neptune, “if there’s anything that you want to do, just let me know, and we’ll find some way to fit it in. Anything at all. Almost anything.”

“We’ll give it some thought,” Neptune assured her.

“You know,” Nora said, “Ren and I used to work in a circus.”

“Really?” Neptune asked.

“I still have no idea what that is,” said Sun.

“That’ll make the story even better,” Nora assured him. “Now, this all happened a couple of years ago—”

She repeated the story as they walked down the street, and this time, Nora and Ren’s time in the circus seemed to gain a lot of embellishment that hadn’t been there when she had told the story to Yang and Ruby; while the stuff about the chimp, once Ren had finally come into possession of it, was pretty much unchanged — and still true, apparently — in this second telling, Nora had become the circus strongman and the person who used to catch the cannonball during the cannon trick.

“I’ve no doubt that you could have been a strongman,” Ren said. “Or a strongwoman. But you weren’t.”

“I would have been awesome, though,” Nora insisted. “You know I would have rocked that leotard.”

Ren said nothing, but a faint blush rose to his cheeks.

As they walked down the street, they passed a boarded up property, the shop or whatever that had been there having shut up and closed down and nobody else having shown up to take over the lease. Wooden chipboard had been nailed over the windows and the doors, and upon one of those wooden boards, someone had spray painted the words ‘Atlas Is the Enemy!’ in bright red letters.

Ruby couldn’t help but stop and stare at it.

Yang, noticing that Ruby had stopped, stopped too. “Ruby, what’s— huh?”

Everyone stopped, coming to a shuffling, ragged halt to look at the spray painted message.

“'Atlas is the enemy'?” Sun repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that-“

“I know what it means, man,” Sun said to Neptune before he could finish explaining. “My point is, why would anyone say something so stupid.”

“Why would anyone give you a thousand lien to go back where you came from?” Neptune asked.

Sun blinked. “You think people in Vale are just feeling mean and dumb today?”

Neptune shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as any, right?”

“To add to the one person in Vale who hates the faunus, we now add the one who hates Atlas,” Ren murmured.

Unfortunately, as they walked down the streets of Vale towards the escape room, it became clear to all of them that it was not just one guy.

Because it wasn’t just one piece of graffiti that was attacking Atlas. It wasn’t, like, everywhere everywhere, like you could go a couple of blocks without seeing any sign of it, but once you knew that it was there and you knew to look for it, you could see it. It wasn’t always so obvious as on the front of an abandoned store on a busy street; sometimes, it was kind of hidden away in side streets, but never so hidden that you couldn’t see them from the main road. Some of it was just crude messages attacking Atlas and declaring that they were the enemy, that they were invaders, that they had to be stopped; some of it was pretty sophisticated, like this one picture they saw that would have been a really piece of street art if it had shown anything other than Atlesian warships hovering menacingly overhead — and the difference between the real Atlesian cruisers in the skies above them and the ones in the picture was that in the picture, you could see all their missiles, and they were all pointing downwards.

“But…” Ruby said. “Why? Would people draw this? Why would people think like this? Sunset said that Vale would have been lost without General Ironwood and his forces, is she right?”

“No one can know what would have happened,” Ren said. “But, if Sunset is right, that may be the problem.”

Ruby looked at him. “What do you mean, if they saved Vale—?”

“People dislike being saved,” Ren explained.

Except that didn’t explain much of anything. “Do they?” asked Ruby in a small and trembling voice.

“Does that surprise you?” Ren asked. “That Vale needed Atlas to rescue them shows that, as Sun and the Vacuans might say, Vale was not strong enough to survive.”

Sun’s muscular chest rose and fell as he sighed. “I gotta say, he’s right about that,” he admitted. “I mean, if it had been a Vacuan fleet in the sky, they would have cut and run as soon as the Breach happened.”

“They would have just left?” Yang demanded. “Why, because Vale should be strong enough to survive on its own?”

“No, because Vacuans don’t stand and fight,” Sun explained. “All of that hold your ground, round the flag, last man stuff? We don’t buy into any of that. We stick around somewhere as long as we can, and then, when it gets too hot, we move on.”

“Nice to know we can depend on you if we get into trouble,” Nora muttered.

“Hey, I was there at the Breach too, remember; just because it’s what people back home would do doesn’t mean that it’s what I would do,” Sun replied hotly, his voice raising. “I’m just saying … I forget what I was saying.”

“The point is that people dislike being saved,” Ren said. “They dislike owing others their lives, and that dislike can turn into resentment.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Yang said, scratching the back of her head with one hand. “Even so, this seems a little bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“Apparently not for some people,” Neptune pointed out.

They continued to see more examples of anti-Atlas sentiment as they went on their way, until eventually, they reached the escape room, where hostility to Atlas and racism towards faunus were temporarily forgotten as they worked together to escape from a doomed starship minutes before the escape pods jettisoned automatically. As Yang had predicted, Ren did the most work of anyone on the team to comprehend the various puzzles that hid the keys and codes they needed to progress, but Yang got some of the wordplay almost instantly, and Ruby turned out to know more about the arrangements of the stars and constellations than anyone else in the room with them.

Sun and Neptune were not, it had to be said, much help.

“Sorry for being such deadweight in there, guys,” Sun apologised as they trooped out of the building and back out onto the street.

“Don’t worry about it; we escaped, so it’s all good,” Yang assured them.

“I didn’t do much either, but not everyone can be great at everything,” Nora added. “Some people are really smart, like Ren. And some people hit really hard, like me.”

“That’s not all that you do, Nora,” Ren remarked plaintively.

“That’s right,” Nora agreed. “I eat a lot too.”

“Nora,” Ren said reproachfully.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t—”

Ren was interrupted by the sound of Nora’s stomach growling.

“You see?” Nora asked, beaming.

“Nora,” Ren began again.

“What?” Nora asked once more.

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” Ren said. “It isn’t necessary.”

“But some food is definitely necessary right now.”

“We can get something to eat at the circus,” Ruby suggested.

“The food at the circus is way overpriced and not all that nice,” Yang said. “We’d be better off picking up something to eat on the way there.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw a hotdog stand on the way over here,” Nora said. “A couple of streets back.”

They retraced their steps, heading a couple of streets back past the stores all open for business. While the anti-Atlas graffiti was an unwelcome presence on the streets of Vale, in the shop windows, there was some reminder that things weren’t all bad in the city: every shop seemed to be getting its Vytal Festival promotions started, even though the festival wasn’t actually due to start for a little while longer.

The electronics store was advertising new TVs for twenty-five percent off and the possibility of a payment plan, reminding everyone who passed by that the only way to watch the tournament was on an SDC Illuminatus Seven with a holographic display thirty-six inches wide and surround sound speakers; maybe they’d could forgotten that you could just go watch the matches in the Amity Arena? Still, they were running a cool commercial for the tournament on the televisions in the shop window; even if it was just clips from the last tournament, they were still pretty awesome clips.

“In a couple of years,” Yang said, “we’ll be the ones on the commercial.”

“Some of us will,” Ruby replied. “It’s kind of funny, don’t you think? The ones who fight in this tournament will be remembered for it, even though it doesn’t really matter at all; they, or we, will be remembered for that and not for any of the stuff we did that actually mattered.”

“Maybe that’s why there’s a tournament in the first place,” Yang suggested. “So that we get the immortality that we deserve, even if we don’t get it for what we deserve it for.”

“If we make the cut,” Neptune said.

Yang laughed. “Nervous?”

“With only eight teams per school selected to represent their academy in the tournament, the odds are against any team individually,” Ren pointed out.

“Yeah, but come on, we all know that we’re going to get picked,” Yang declared. “Ruby, you’re not worried about the selection, are you?”

“Sunset says we’re bound to get picked, if only because of Pyrrha,” Ruby said.

Neptune snorted. “Sunset’s not wrong about that; if Pyrrha didn’t get to fight in the Vytal Festival … the whole of Mistral would kick off. But … don’t you guys have to win the preliminary rounds to make sure you get chosen?”

“'Preliminary rounds'?” Nora said. “There are preliminary rounds?”

“Not here at Beacon, unless you count Last Shot,” Yang said. “Here, Professor Ozpin picks the eight teams.”

“Really?” Neptune said. “He just gets to choose, just like that, no arguments?”

“Why not?” asked Yang. “He is the headmaster, after all.”

“Doesn’t Professor Lionheart choose who represents Haven?” inquired Ruby.

“We choose who represents Haven,” Sun declared, jabbing at his own chest with his thumb.

“There’s a preliminary tournament,” Neptune explained. “The top eight teams get the eight slots in the real thing.”

“So does that mean you already know who’s going forward?” asked Nora.

“No, we haven’t had the prelims yet,” Sun said. “I think they want to hold them pretty close to the announcement so that it doesn’t leak out.”

They passed a betting shop; Ruby found it a little depressing how full it was, one of the busiest shops they had passed in the whole city. It wasn’t much changed from any other day, still full of stinky people with unwashed faces and dirty coats sitting down in front of the betting machines, playing game after game, but in the windows, they also had — over a big poster of second-year student Coco Adel, winking over the top of her sunglasses — the odds for the winner of the Vytal Festival.

“Have they just put up every team?” Nora asked, as they stared at the row after row of team names, far more than sixty-four of them.

“So it would appear,” Ren murmured.

“What else were they going to do, the tournament roster hasn’t been announced yet?” Neptune reminded them.

“They could have waited until it was announced,” Yang pointed out.

Even the bookstore was getting in on the act, with an unauthorised biography of Arslan Altan, entitled Maneater: The Untold Story of a Lioness; the picture on the cover showed her scowling outwards at the reader in a surly manner, her hands knotted into fists, as though she was about to punch somebody.

By retracing their steps back from the escape room, they eventually found their way to the hotdog stand that Nora had spotted earlier. As they drew near, they found that they had been beaten to it by Blake’s friends, Starlight and Trixie, who were standing in front of it together with the boy on their team, the one with the cape and the goatee whose name Ruby couldn’t remember.

As Ruby and the others drew near, the voices of the Atlesian huntsmen carried towards them.

“No?” Trixie said loudly. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“What do you think I mean?” the guy on the other side of the hotdog stand demanded. He was a tall man, with dark stubble on his chin even as his hair was concealed beneath his white cap. “I ain’t serving the likes of you, now beat it.”

“Maybe we should go somewhere—” the boy began.

“The likes of us?” Trixie demanded, her voice rising to a loud squawk. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?”

“I know that you’re Atlesians,” the hotdog vendor said. “I don’t want your kind around here, I don’t need your kind around here, none of us need your kind around here. Get outta here! Go back to Atlas and freeze to death!”

“What do you have against Atlas?” Starlight asked. “We’re only—”

“Only here to take over,” the hotdog vendor said. “Only here to do what you couldn’t do in the war.”

“We’re here for your freedom,” Starlight declared.

“You’re here to make us all your slaves; well, it won’t happen!” cried the hotdog vendor. “We beat you once, we’ll do it again, and in the meantime, I’m not taking any of your filthy money. Now clear off, or I’m calling the cops.”

“You ungrateful—”

“Trixie, cool it,” the boy begged, tugging at her shoulder. “Let’s just go; we’ll find somewhere else, okay?”

“Fighting Atlas?” Nora murmured, as they watched. “Like … like in the Great War?”

“It’s ridiculous,” Ren said.

“It’s insane,” Neptune declared.

“Something is definitely going on in this city,” Yang said, as she put one hand upon her hip. “Like … so many people having a really bad day, like something in the water.” She shook her head. “Something is going on here.”

“I guess so,” Ruby replied. “But … what?”

Sonata finished singing, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the anger and the hostility spreading all around her, everyone arguing, everyone quarrelling, everyone glaring up at the Atlesian warships hovering above them.

What will you do, General, when those you came to protect decide that you are the enemy?

Tempest smiled too. Everything was proceeding according to Doctor Watts’ plan.

“Another wonderful performance, as always,” she said, taking off her headphones and surveying the results of Sonata’s voice. Hostility was spreading across Vale like water spreading across the floodplain once the river burst its banks, all the resentment and the envy that the people of this kingdom had hidden away in their secret hearts amplified and made strong enough to burst forth into the open. Hostility towards Atlas, dislike for the faunus, the cracks were starting to spread across the city. And it only got worse with every song.

And with every song, the gem around Sonata’s neck seemed to glow a little brighter, and the next song ensnared more people under its spell.

“Aww, you’re sweet, but I know you’re just saying that,” Sonata said. “You couldn’t even hear a word I was singing!”

Tempest hesitated. It was true that she couldn’t hear Sonata’s siren song, but … but she wanted to. She wanted to tear off her headphones, she wanted to never put them on, she wanted to hear what it was that affected the minds and hearts and souls of everyone who heard it.

But she was possessed of an iron will, and though that will was starting to rust a little with desire to hear the siren’s voice, she would not yield. Doctor Watts’ instructions had been explicit, and she would not break faith with him who had been so good to her.

“A pleasure that will have to wait for some time,” she said, “perhaps forever. In the meantime, although you have done good work here, I think that it is time to move on to phase two of this operation.”

“Ooh, phase two, that sounds exciting!” Sonata declared. “What is it?”

“How would you like to give a concert for the troops?” asked Tempest.

“Well, that was fun,” Yang said as the four of them walked down the corridor towards their respective dorm rooms. Sun and Neptune had peeled off to their own room on a different part of the campus; it was just the four of them again.

“Those Starhead robots are pretty cool,” Ruby declared.

“Much cooler than the Atlesian androids,” Nora added.

“But the Atlesian androids are supposed to fight, not be entertaining,” Yang pointed out.

“But that doesn’t make them cool,” Nora said.

Yang chuckled. “No,” she admitted. “No, I guess not.” She paused for a second. “Has everyone had a good day?”

“It was great,” Nora said. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Ruby?” Yang asked, looking at her sister.

Ruby did not respond. She was staring down the corridor with a frown wrinkling her brow.

“Ruby?” Yang repeated.

“There’s a light on in the dorm room,” Ruby pointed out.

Yang looked. The corridor was dark and quiet, but the darkness meant that, yes, you could see the light on in the SAPR dorm room, spilling out from the crack in the doorway.

“Did you leave the light on?” Ren asked.

Ruby shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Maybe Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha got home early?” Nora suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yang said quietly. “I guess the only thing to do is check it out.”

“Is that wise?” asked Ren.

Yang glanced at him. She understood what he was asking, why he was asking it, but at the same time, she scoffed, as much for her own sake as for his. “Come on, Ren? It’s probably … okay, I don’t know what it is, but whatever it is, it’ll be perfectly harmless because … because this is Beacon. It’s not like we’re going to open the door and find a grimm on the other side.”

Nora gave a very deep chuckle and stroked her chin as she spoke in deep-voiced imitation of Professor Port. “Oho, Miss Xiao Long! Why, don’t you know that when I was a lad, I left a beowolf in the dorm room of a rival team as a jolly jape! How we laughed!”

Yang snorted. “Come on,” she said, “let’s see who it is.”

They walked to the door, Ruby and Yang in front, Nora and Ren just a little bit behind. Ruby got out her scroll and opened up the door. Yang took a step in front of Ruby so that she entered first, but Ruby followed swiftly on behind, so that they as good as walked in together.

Walked in to see—

“Raven?” Yang gasped.

Raven Branwen was sitting on Pyrrha’s bed, her legs crossed, her boots crinkling the blanket, reading Ruby’s copy of The Song of Olivia with one hand, eating a cheese sandwich with the other.

She looked up from her book.

“Ah, there you are,” she said. “I was starting to get bored.”

Raven Returns (Rewrite)

Raven Returns

Four heroes stood in the gloomy throne room. Outside, it was perpetual night, casting the rocky chamber in a mire of darkness banished only by the candles burning in the sconces on the walls.

The chamber was bare, empty, as though it had been stripped clean in advance of their coming.

But that would have required someone to know that they were coming, and that was not a prospect that Raven wished to entertain.

Yet now that she had called it into being with a thought, she found she could not banish it.

Team STRQ stood at one end of the long room, and if they had weapons, then their weapons were ready: Omen and Harbinger were drawn in the hands of Raven and Qrow, Summer gripped Vargcrist tightly in both hands, Tai had his fists drawn back to strike. Because, at the other end of the room, standing before a simple wooden chair, was their enemy: the enemy, Salem herself. She was uglier than Raven had expected; for an adversary who could not be killed, she looked an awful lot like a corpse already.

She looked more like something Raven would expect to see floating on the surface of a lake a few days after her drowning than someone — or something — who threatened the existence of the world itself, and the lives of Raven’s friends what was more.

She looked … she looked neither worried nor surprised to see them.

"So," Salem said, her tone casual, almost idle. "Ozpin has finally decided to strike at me. And he has chosen the four of you to do it.” She smiled, a rather ugly smile. “You must be quite the talents."

"We made it this far, didn't we?" Qrow said.

Salem laughed, a bitter sound that grated upon Raven’s ears. "And yet you never stopped to ask yourselves if it wasn't perhaps a little too easy to reach this place, the very heart of my sanctum? A handful of beowolves, a single beringel outside the door? Did you think that was all the strength at my command? And here I thought Ozpin looked for brains as well as brawn in his servants."

Raven scowled. It had been easy getting in here, but no one had wanted to say that it had felt too easy because they had all wanted it to be that easy; they had all wanted this to be done quickly and simply so that they could get out of this place as quickly as possible.

She found to her frustration that her hands were trembling. She gritted her teeth and growled, "What are you saying?"

Salem’s smile had been ugly before, but it became uglier still the more pronounced her smugness became. "I'm saying that if you had been devoured on your way up here, we wouldn't be able to have this little chat, would we?"

She snapped her fingers once, and immediately, a great howl of grimm arose from beyond the chamber: the beowolves and the ursai roared, the beringels howled as they beat their chest, the nevermores shrieked, and the manticores bellowed.

It wasn't just a small number of grimm out there; it was a horde, a great host that had lain in weight for them, and Team STRQ had walked right into the trap.

Raven cursed mentally, damning Oz for putting them up to this, for putting the idea into Summer’s head. He had encouraged them to stick their heads in a beowolf’s mouth, and now, the jaws were closing.

Of the four of them, only Summer did not look afraid. Summer never seemed afraid. Her face could be kind, or it could be courageous, or it could even be angry sometimes, but Raven had never seen her afraid.

Summer took a step forward ahead of the others. "You may have an army of grimm outside, but they're out there, and we're in here … with you."

Salem looked no more fazed by that realisation than Summer seemed afraid of Salem’s grimm beyond. "You are very brave to come here. You are all so very brave. How does Ozpin acquire the loyalty of such as you? Not with the truth, surely. What has he told you about me? What has he told you about himself?"

"Enough," Summer said.

"Enough that you are willing to be his sacrifices?" Salem said. "Enough that you came here to fail and fall at his behest? And while with child too, Raven. You must be a true believer or very callous to risk the life inside you thus."

Raven gasped. How had she known that? How could Salem possibly know that? Raven had only found out a few days ago, she'd only told Tai yesterday — she had been planning to keep it a secret until after the mission because she knew that Tai and Qrow would make a fuss about her staying behind, which they had, but Summer had worked out that Raven was pregnant from the signs and insisted that telling the father was the right thing to do, and it was hard to say no to Summer Rose when she was lecturing you on right and wrong.

"I know many things," Salem replied. "For I was blessed with the power of knowledge ere magic faded from the world." She smirked. "I know you, Raven of the Branwen tribe; I see into your very heart. Deep down, you know exactly how this story ends."

"No," Raven whispered, shaking her head.

"In this world, only the strong survive, and your comrades are too weak to stand the storm."

"Raven, don't listen to her," Summer said. "Together we can—"

"Die one and all and merrily together? Yes, you can," Salem said. "Or at least you could. But even now, there is still time. Time to turn away. Time to walk away. Time to leave these fools to their fate."

Raven's breathing came in short, sharp bursts. It was true: in this world, only the strong survived, and only those who were willing to do whatever it took in defiance of all law and morality would prosper; that was the way of the world that Raven and Qrow had learnt upon the knee of their father, the chieftain of their tribe. In this world, only the strong survived, and the ruthless thrived, and Raven had marked Summer and Taiyang as weak from the moment she met them.

But then, as the days and months at Beacon had drawn on, Raven had begun to wonder if their father had been mistaken, if there were not other kinds of strength than a willingness to do anything to anyone to get ahead, strength like Summer had, a strength that came from loyalty and kindness and a heart full of courage.

A strength that came from standing together with those who believed you could be better than you were before.

Two roads. Two worlds and she between them both, walking between the candle and the dark, wielding shadow on behalf of light. That was her life, that was her role upon this team: Summer was their leader, but Raven was their protector. Raven, ruthless Raven, keen-eyed and clear-sighted Raven, strong Raven, Raven unburdened by Summer’s naivete or Tai’s civilised scruples could do what had to be done for the good of the team. Raven could be their strength where they were weak, just as they could be hers.

So she had lived, through Beacon and beyond, but now…

But now…

Raven felt, had felt for some time now, as if she were stood at a fork in the road where she would have to choose which path to take: the path of the Branwen tribe, the path of strength, the path where the strong survived and the weak left to perish; or she could take the path of Summer's friendship and Tai's love, of four hearts that beat as one, of comrades working together to overcome their weaknesses. Two paths she could not walk together, two worlds she could not straddle forever, and now Salem told her—

"Raven, snap out of it!"

Summer's words cut through the fog of Raven's self-doubt like a searchlight. Her voice was like a bugle rallying men to arms, drowning out the noises of the grimm without.

"That's enough," Summer declared. "You may think you know us, but you don't. You may say that you let us get this far, but I say we came this far together, because we're a team, a team that's already done incredible things, things that people said couldn't be done, but we did it anyway because we worked together. You may think that you know us, but you have no idea how strong our bond is. It's the ties that bind us that have got us this far, and it's those ties that will defeat you!" Summer began to roar as the brilliant silver light began to shine forth from her eyes, first in shining silver wings and then, as Summer's cry became louder still, loaded with that mixture of anger and pain that made witnessing her power both an awe-inspiring and a horrifying experience, the shining light engulfed the entire room, blinding Raven and her teammates.

It was the light that no evil could withstand. The light at the heart of Oz's plan. Although they might not be able to kill Salem, it was hoped that Summer's eyes could still trap her in stone for a few hundred years at least.

Yang stared. Raven was sitting in Ruby’s room. Raven was reading Ruby’s book. Raven was … Raven was right there.

She had no idea what colour her eyes were right now. She had no idea how she felt right now.

This was not the first time that Raven had appeared to them like this, but somehow … somehow, the fact that she was not just on the school grounds but in Ruby’s room, it … it felt different. Worse, maybe, but maybe … maybe not.

After all, this was…

Yang didn’t know how she felt. She wanted this, and yet at the same time, something drove her to take a step forward, protectively shielding Ruby with her body.

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “There’s no need for that,” she said in a tone of gentle reproach. She got up off the bed, putting the book down upon the red blanket. “Do you really think so ill of me that you believe that I would hurt Ruby? Summer’s girl? Your sister?”

“I don’t know you,” Yang said. “Remember?”

A look that was almost guilty — perhaps it was guilty; Yang didn’t know Raven well enough to read her face — fell over Raven.

“No,” she murmured. “I suppose you don’t. I acknowledge that that is my fault, but nevertheless … have I given you cause in our interactions to make you think that I would do Ruby harm?”

“No,” Ruby said, stepping around Yang. “No, you haven’t. But … what are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” Raven said. “Since I didn’t know how long Sunset would be out of town with the dolt and the little princess, I thought that I should take this chance for us to talk. Eventually, I got so bored of waiting that I decided to make myself a little supper.” She put the sandwich down upon the little desk that ran along the wall of the dorm room. “The cheese had a note on it saying it belonged to someone called ‘Bon Bon’; I’ve never been very good at paying attention to notes like that.”

“Yang,” Nora said. “Who is this, do you know her?”

For the first time, Raven appeared to notice Ren and Nora’s presence behind Yang and Ruby. She cast her red eyes over them dismissively. “Close the door on your way out.”

“Excuse me?” replied Ren sharply.

Raven turned to face them. “This is a private conversation between myself, my … between myself and Summer’s children. Your presence is neither required nor wanted.”

Nora growled. “Well, what if we don’t want to leave them alone with you?”

Raven was a tall woman. Taller than Yang, taller than Pyrrha, she towered over Nora. She began to step lightly across the room, one hand straying idly towards the hilt of her sword.

“It’s okay,” Yang said quickly. “Nora, Ren … give us a minute, okay?”

“What?” Nora exclaimed. “But Yang—”

“The answer to your question is that I do know her,” Yang said quickly, if also quietly. “She is … she’s my mother. We’re going to be okay alone, I promise.”

“I … I don’t like this,” Nora said.

I’m not sure that I like it either, but it’s for the best, Yang thought. As much as she was unsure how she felt about Raven’s dramatic appearance, she wasn’t afraid of physical harm from her.

On the other hand, she couldn’t say what Raven might do to Ren or Nora if they forced the issue.

“If you’re sure about this,” Ren murmured.

“Ren!” Nora cried.

“It’s Yang’s mother,” Ren reminded her. “If Yang and Ruby are comfortable with this, then … then we should do as she says.”

Ren ushered Nora out of the room. On Ren’s own face, there was a frown, somewhere between hostility and confusion; it was still on his face as he cast one last look at Yang before he closed the door.

He closed the door and left them alone with Raven.

“There was no need to be like that,” Yang said.

“What I have to say is for you, not them,” Raven said, turning away from Yang and Ruby. She walked back towards Pyrrha’s bed and, with one hand, reached out to brush her fingertips against the cover of The Song of Olivia. “Whose book is this?”

“It’s mine,” Ruby said, her voice trembling a little.

Raven looked at her. “Yours? How did Tai come by an antique like this?”

“It was given to me,” Ruby replied. “By a friend.”

“A generous friend,” Raven murmured. “You know that this is very valuable? Copies of this vintage are rare indeed; they can sell for—”

“It’s not for sale,” Ruby said firmly.

The corner of Raven’s lip turned upwards. “I assumed that it must belong to your Mistralian princess friend—”

“Her name is Pyrrha,” Ruby declared.

Raven gave a nod, or perhaps a bow of her head; it was hard to tell. “Pyrrha, then. Either way, her family has the history and the money that I could believe they had something like this.”

“And if it had been Pyrrha’s?” asked Yang.

“Then I would have taken it and sold it for a fine price,” Raven said bluntly. “But, as it is yours, Ruby…” — she pushed it across the duvet — “it’s safe. What do you think of it?”

“It’s … it’s a lovely story,” Ruby said. “I think it’s beautiful.”

“Even the part where Olivia gets herself and her followers killed out of pride?” Raven asked.

“The hero doesn’t have to be perfect for the story to be a good one,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Raven conceded. “No, I suppose she doesn’t. One might even argue that if the hero were perfect, it would be a rather boring story.”

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to talk about stories,” Yang growled.

“No, I came here because I’m very disappointed in the both of you,” Raven declared. “I’m here because despite my warnings and my instructions, you have been lazy and complacent and, in your case, Ruby, deceitful. And so I am forced to come here and tell Yang the truth—”

“I know the truth,” Yang said.

“No, you don’t,” Raven said emphatically. “You have no idea—”

“Salem,” Yang said. “Immortal, unkillable, mistress of the grimm. Relics. Gods. Am I missing anything?”

Raven was silent as her eyebrows rose. Her smile was slight, but at the same time unmistakable.

“How…?” Ruby murmured. “How do you know that?”

“Not because you told me,” Yang said, unable to prevent just a touch of bitterness from entering her voice.

Ruby cringed, clasping her hands together. “I … I was going to,” she offered, weakly. “Professor Ozpin … he made me promise not to tell.”

“Typical Oz,” Raven growled. “I’m disappointed in you, Ruby. Summer would be disappointed in you, lying and keeping secrets from your sister like this.”

“Don’t talk to Ruby like that and don’t talk about what Mom would have thought about all this!” Yang snapped. “I can be mad at Ruby; you don’t get to be mad, and you don’t get to take the moral high ground when you left!”

She could feel the flames of wrath begin to burn, her hair igniting; she could imagine it turning pale, even as her eyes turned red.

Raven raised one hand. “You … are right, of course. I have no right to chide or lecture. I apologise, and henceforth will keep my … judgement to myself. I did not come here to fight, after all.”

“How … Yang, how did you find out, about Salem and everything else?” asked Ruby.

Yang closed her eyes. “Sunset told me,” she said. “In the hospital, after you woke up and we had that fight.”

“Sunset,” Ruby murmured. “She … she didn’t tell me that. Neither did you.”

“What would have been the point?” Yang asked.

“We … we could have talked about it,” Ruby offered.

Yang couldn’t resist a snort. “If you’d wanted to talk about it, you could have told me yourself,” she pointed out.

“Professor Ozpin—”

“You don’t have to do everything that Professor Ozpin tells you!” Yang snapped.

Ruby flinched. “I mean, I … I kinda do. That’s what it means to work for someone.”

Yang stared at Ruby. She glared at Ruby. Then a little laugh, a little sighing laugh in which exasperation mingled with amusement, escaped her lips. “Okay, you’ve got me there, Rubes.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured. “I should have insisted to Professor Ozpin that you could be trusted, that you weren’t like Raven—”

“Excuse me?” Raven asked.

Ruby let out a little squeak of alarm. “I mean, um—”

“Ozpin didn’t want me to know any of this because he’s afraid I’ll do what you did and run away,” Yang said.

“Is that all you think I am?” Raven asked. “A deserter? Someone who ran away?”

“Isn’t that what you are?” replied Yang.

Raven sat down on Pyrrha’s bed and gestured to Jaune’s bed opposite. “Sit down,” she demanded.

Yang and Ruby exchanged glances. They hesitated for a moment, before Ruby took a tentative step forwards. Of course, once she had done that, then Yang had very little choice left but to follow, and they both ended up sitting down upon Jaune’s bed, opposite and facing Raven.

Raven was silent for a moment, looking at the two girls but saying nothing, her red eyes switching from Yang to Ruby and then back again.

“I told you not to trust Ozpin,” she said. “I told you, both of you. I warned you, I told you to keep reading—”

“We did,” Ruby said.

“Not enough!” Raven said sharply. “And here you are, eating out of the palm of Ozpin’s hand.”

“I’m defending humanity,” Ruby declared.

Raven almost smiled. “You sound like your mother when you say things like that.”

“I take that a compliment.”

“You should,” Raven replied. “It was intended as such, for the most part, although … you should also ask yourself where your mother is now. Following Ozpin led her to an early grave; it pains me to see you walking the exact same road.”

“Well it wouldn’t pain Mom!” Ruby cried. “Because Mom understood that—”

“Summer understood nothing!” Raven snapped. “Nothing at all; she was … naïve and foolish and…” She made a sort of choking sound. “And brave. She was so very brave. Too brave, by far. A surfeit of courage and a lack of sense is a deadly combination.”

“Is that what you think you did?” Yang asked. “The sensible thing?”

“This isn’t about me,” Raven replied.

“Isn’t it?” replied Yang. “I think that this is all about you.”

Raven did not answer. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Ruby. “Why?” she asked.

Ruby blinked. “Why … what?”

“Why fight?” Raven asked. “Why give yourself over to Ozpin’s service, why risk your life knowing what you’re up against, knowing that final victory is impossible?”

“To protect the world,” Ruby said, “to protect all the people who live in it.”

“'The people,'” Raven repeated. “The people,” she said, loading the word with contempt. “And who are these people, whose lives are worth the sacrifice of Summer Rose, of Summer’s child? What are the people worth, that Summer should die and you should walk so bravely to your death for their sake and their protection?”

“They’re…” Ruby hesitated for a moment. “They’re … people.”

“Racist people,” Raven said. “Venal people. Cruel people. People who would not, themselves, lift a finger to help anyone else, let alone risk their lives for them. People who mistreat those weaker than them — and almost all people mistreat those weaker than themselves; it is the way of the world. For this is a cruel world. A world where only the strong survive unless they have the protection of those who are stronger than them. A world where … a world that consumes the good, the excellent, like Summer, and leaves behind the callous, the cowardly, the indolent; there are dead dogs lying by the side of the road that are worth more than ‘people.’ A thousand people, a thousand thousand people were not worth Summer’s life!” Raven closed her eyes and bowed her head, and her whole body shuddered. “And they are not worth yours.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. Yang looked at her and was surprised to see not the expected condemnation in Ruby’s eyes, not indignation at how Raven could say such a thing. Instead … instead, in the water that gathered before Ruby’s eyes of silver as though she might cry, Yang saw pity.

“I disagree,” Ruby said, her voice soft and a little hoarse. “And I’m sorry that you feel the way that you do. I can’t imagine what made you feel that way.”

“No,” Raven murmured. “You cannot.” She looked up. “I have seen more of the world than you,” she declared. “Even when I was younger, when Summer and I and Tai and Qrow were young, I had seen more of the world than she had—”

“Mom had seen plenty,” Ruby replied. “She grew up outside the kingdoms, she almost got mugged on her first day in Vale—”

“Wait,” Yang said, “she did?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later—”

“How do you know that?” Yang demanded. “Why don’t I know that? It’s bad enough that you didn’t tell me about Salem, but now you’re keeping secrets about Mom, too?”

“Did Ozpin tell you that story?” Raven asked.

Ruby nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

“When?” Yang asked, forcefully.

“On the day that Jaune and Pyrrha left for Jaune’s home,” Ruby admitted.

“You talked about Mom, and … and you didn’t—”

“We talked a lot about Salem,” Ruby explained. “And I didn’t … know that you knew about that.”

“How much did he tell you?” asked Raven.

“He told me about where Mom came from,” Ruby said. “How she got to Vale. How you guys all formed Team Stark.”

“Yes,” Raven murmured. “Team Stark.” She glanced over her shoulder towards Ruby’s bed and the wall beyond. “I had ample chance to look around, and I see that you found the marks we made on the wall.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “We made our own. I hope that’s okay.”

Raven raised one eyebrow. “You hope that’s okay?” She blinked. “You seem to have mistaken me for someone involved with this school.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to think that we were trying to steal your thunder,” Ruby murmured.

Raven stared at her.

“Okay, that sounded stupid, didn’t it?” Ruby asked.

Raven gave a slight nod of her head.

Ruby groaned slightly.

“If it helps, I thought that it was…” Raven trailed off. “I shouldn’t really use this word for the sake of my reputation, but it was … rather sweet. Unless you meant to signal your intent to surpass us, in which case … I would have wished you luck, had the circumstances been better.”

“Professor Ozpin told me that he wished he’d made you the leader of the team,” Ruby informed her.

“Oz said what?” Raven demanded.

“He said—”

“I heard you the first time,” Raven said sharply. She fell silent for a few seconds, actually for more than a few seconds, Ruby counted in her head up to about ten before Raven spoke again. “That old … damn him.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” Yang observed.

“It is an insult to Summer,” Raven declared. “Who was a fine leader by the way, and don’t let Ozpin or anyone else tell you otherwise. She was … I could not have led the team, I did not have that skill, that way of winning hearts that Summer had, I could not have led by inspiration as she did. Summer was … Summer was our only leader. The only one who could have been our leader.” She paused again, before she asked. “Did he say why?”

“Because Mom was … because you were more cautious than Mom was,” Ruby said. “Because you wanted to keep everyone safe.”

“Oh, now he pretends to care for the safety of those who serve him, who die for him,” Raven said. “And yet he would still throw you into the same flames which consumed Summer? Hypocritical old bastard.”

“I think,” Ruby ventured, “that it’s because he has to throw us into the fire that he wishes that he’d chosen someone … someone more like you to be the leader of the team that … that went into the fire. That … that’s why he made Sunset our team leader, instead of me.”

“He said that?” Yang asked.

“I asked him,” Ruby explained. “I asked him why he hadn’t made me a team leader, when he’d made Mom one.”

“Does it bother you?” asked Raven. “Do you covet the honour? Do you resent Sunset for possessing it? I’d offer to give you a second bite at the apple, but if Sunset is cautious and will keep you alive, then perhaps it is better that she, too, stay alive.”

“I don’t want you to kill her!” Ruby exclaimed. “Why … why would you even say something like that? What kind of person offers to … to murder someone so that I could step into their shoes?”

“You’re the only one who said anything about murder,” Raven pointed out.

“I…” Ruby abruptly realised that Raven had been right. “Well … well what did you mean, then?”

“What else did Ozpin tell you?” asked Raven, changing the subject.

Yang noticed that Raven had not answered Ruby’s question, but didn’t care to point it out. She, too, wanted to know what else had passed between Ruby and the headmaster.”

“He told me about Ozpin’s Stand,” Ruby said. “And he told me about how he asked the four of you to come and serve him, the same way that he asked us. And he told me … he told me that the four of you tried to turn Salem to stone.”

“What?” Yang gasped. “You … but I thought Salem couldn’t be killed.”

“That was why the plan wasn’t to kill her,” Raven explained. “But to petrify her, using Summer’s silver eyes to … the exact ‘what’ of what was meant to happen to Salem was up in the air, whether she would be transformed into stone or simply encased in stone, either way, she’d be alive but trapped, paralysed, unable to move, speak, act, do anything. Summer’s eyes, your eyes, Ruby, have that power, you see, not just to destroy grimm—”

“But to turn them into stone,” Ruby said. “But … but it didn’t work on Salem, did it?”

“No,” Raven said, with a sigh. “No, it didn’t.”

The silver light faded, and darkness thinly dispersed by candle light returned to dominate the chamber. Summer was on her hands and knees, gasping, panting for breath. That almost never happened to her anymore, Raven thought as she knelt down beside her; normally, Summer could use the eyes without exhausting herself; she must have really hit Salem with everything she had.

The laughter from the other end of the room told her that it hadn't been enough.

"Is that all there is?" Salem asked in a tongue thick with mockery. "Was that your plan? Is there nothing else?"

No one replied. Qrow and Tai were staring at Salem in horror, while Raven's eyes flickered between the two ends of the room. One side stood the demon, strong and tall and unaffected by the power that Raven had seen turn grimm to stone or worse by hordes and multitudes. On the other side knelt Summer, sweet Summer, smiling Summer, kind Summer, kneeling, beaten and crushed before the power of their enemy.

This was a world where only the strong survived.

"That's not possible," Tai whispered.

Summer's eyes were closed, and in between gasping breaths, she winced in pain. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, though so softly that Raven couldn't be certain that anyone heard but her.

"Such a gift you have, Summer," Salem said. "I marvel at it anew each time I witness it." She snapped her fingers once again. "Save the silver eyed warrior. Kill the others."

The howling and the roaring and the shrieking of the grimm without rose to new heights of volume and intensity; Raven could hear footsteps pounding down the corridor outside as the beringels bellowed in their bloodlust.

Raven grabbed Summer's arm and draped it over her shoulder. "I'm guessing you're not up to another flash?"

Summer could barely keep hold of her weapon. It hung useless in her trembling. "I’m afraid not. Sorry."

"It's okay," Raven said. "It’s all going to be okay. I've got you.” Oz had got them into this, Summer had led them into this, but she, Raven, would get them out again. That was what she did: she kept them alive. And she already had a plan. “Qrow, get back to the Bullhead."

"What?" Qrow said. "I can't just—”

"Get back to the Bullhead," Raven snapped, impatient with his denseness. Wasn’t it obvious what she intended? "We'll follow."

Realisation dawned upon his face. About time. "Right. I'll be as fast as I can."

"You'd better," Raven muttered. "Tai, make a hole." Salem seemed content to leave it to her grimm to prevent their escape. She watched them from the back of the room as though she were grading their efforts. Like Ozpin — a surge of anger shot through Raven at the thought of him — she used others as her weapons without sullying her own hands with combat. They could only hope that it would stay that way.

The doors behind them burst open to reveal a half-dozen beringels, and more a little further behind. But Qrow was already moving, shooting the first one twice in the face with Harbinger before he leapt. A beringel grabbed for him, massive fingers closing around where his midriff would have been, but the red-eyed crow that he had become merely slipped through the monster's grip and flew away. Tai took advantage of the distraction of the grimm to throw it over his shoulder and punch it so hard that its head disintegrated.

Arms, a host of arms as long as serpents, devoid of visible bodies, emerged from out of the floor to reach with two-fingered hands for Raven and Summer. Raven slashed at them with her sword as she inched towards the door, following the path that Taiyang was clearing through the beringels.

Raven could only hope that Qrow's bad luck didn't make things even worse for them, for surely, they had had enough bad luck today already.

“My semblance allows me to create portals,” Raven said. “I, and others, can use them to move between locations—”

“Is that how you keep showing up here?” Yang asked.

“It is,” Raven said. “I can open a portal to anyone I care about, and so, I can find you.”

Yang wasn’t sure if she ought to be touched by that or not.

She was kind of touched by it. Kind of.

“That’s … nice,” she murmured. “It would have been nicer if you’d stuck around, but still … that’s nice.”

“If I had stuck around, then Ruby wouldn’t be here, would she?” Raven pointed out.

Yang didn’t reply. Ruby said, “So you used a portal to get out?”

“I sent Qrow on ahead to get to our airship, then used a portal to get Summer, Tai, and myself back there too,” Raven explained. “Then we managed to make it to Ironwood’s warship waiting for us offshore.” She paused for a moment. “Summer hit Salem with her very best shot, and Salem … Salem didn’t even flinch. Summer gave it everything she had, everything. And it didn’t matter. It didn’t do a thing.”

“So?” Ruby asked.

“So?” Raven repeated. “So … so what? Haven’t you been listening?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “I have. And I know that … well, I don’t know, but I guess that it was hard for you, disappointing—”

“'Disappointing' is putting it mildly,” Raven said. “I thought … I thought this would work. We all thought that it would work: Summer, Oz, but I blame myself the most because I—”

“Was the protector,” Ruby murmured. “You’re the one who should have seen it coming.”

“I’m the one who should have seen Oz’s plan for the nonsense it was,” Raven said. “Instead … instead, I let myself get swept up in the grandeur of it all, let myself get carried away by Summer’s enthusiasm … no, not Summer’s enthusiasm; I can’t blame her for this, not when … I let myself get swept up in the idea that we could end the war, that I wouldn’t have to watch it consume the people that I cared about, that we could live … happily ever after.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said. “I really am sorry.”

Raven blinked. “From you,” she said, “from Summer’s girl, I can … I can almost believe that.”

“But just because it didn’t work doesn’t mean you had to leave,” Ruby insisted. “You could have stayed, you could have fought, you could have—”

“Watched Summer die?” Raven asked. “Watched Tai die?” She shook her head. “There are many kinds of courage, Ruby Rose, and courage on the battlefield is only one of them. Summer … Summer had every kind of courage, but I … I have less than she did.”

“Raven, please!”

“Don’t try and stop me, Summer; I’ve made up my mind.”

“I’m not trying to stop you,” Summer cried. “I’m asking you, please, reconsider.” She paused. “Don’t do this.”

Raven turned back, looking at her through the trees. It was winter now, and the trees themselves were leafless, barren, their branches like arms, their twigs like twisted fingers reaching out. A light covering of snow lay on the ground, and it crunched beneath Raven’s feet as she walked a couple of steps back towards Summer.

“What should I do else?” Raven asked.

“What you’ve always done,” Summer replied, her voice soft and yet carrying through the night. “Fight with us.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“At the end of the day, everything we do as huntresses boils down to that one simple fact.”

“Nothing about this fight is simple!” Raven yelled. “It never was, and it certainly hasn’t been since we got back from … from facing her.”

Summer was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Raven stared at her for a moment. “This … you’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t; Ozpin—”

“Ozpin asked if I thought I could do it, and I told him that I could,” Summer insisted. “I should have … I should never have gotten your hopes up, any of you, including Professor Ozpin.” She paused. “There never was much hope. Just a fool’s hope. I shouldn’t have made you think otherwise.”

“That’s not on you.”

“You’re hard on Professor Ozpin.”

“Professor Ozpin is the reason we’re in this situation.”

“Salem would still be out there, whether we knew it or not,” Summer reminded her. “Isn’t it better that we know?”

“What’s the point when we can’t do anything with what we know?” Raven shot back. “If knowledge brings nothing but fear and dread, then I would sooner live in ignorance with the rest of the befuddled multitude. But that’s not possible anymore, is it?”

“No,” Summer said, shaking her head. “No, that … that’s all gone now. All that’s left to decide is what we’re going to do with what we know.”

Raven closed her eyes. “I am not a coward,” she said, not sounding entirely convincing upon that point.

“I know,” Summer said. “I’ve never said otherwise.”

“I am … I would give my life for you, for Tai, even for Qrow, for all that he drives me insane sometimes,” Raven said. She wiped at her eyes with the fingers of one hand. “But you … when you ask me to stay and fight, you’re asking me to watch you die. And that … I don’t have that kind of courage. I can’t protect you from this if you insist on putting yourselves in harm’s way, and if I can’t protect you … I’m sorry, Summer, I can’t do this. I can’t watch you do this. I love you too much. I’m sorry.”

Summer was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry too,” she whispered. “Where … where will you go?”

“Back to the tribe,” Raven said. “It’s not much … in fact, it’s pretty awful, I must admit, but … but it’s the only place I have.” She turned away, but glanced back at Summer nevertheless. “Take care of Tai and Yang.”

“You … you’re not taking—”

“The Branwen tribe is no place for a baby,” Raven said. “Better that she should stay here, with her father who loves her and…”

Summer hesitated. “And…”

“I have stolen,” Raven said. “I have killed men, I have stood by and watched others kill men, but the act that haunts my conscience … will probably be this, once I have gone and done it, but right now, the act that haunts my conscience most is that I came between you and Tai. I knew you liked him. I thought it was absurd the way that you didn’t do anything about it; you just stood there and looked at his back with those big eyes of yours, but I … I should have left well enough alone, I shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have said yes when he asked you out?” Summer asked. “Shouldn’t have fallen in love with him? Tai … Tai didn’t belong to me, and … and the fact that he saw you instead of me is … is not your fault.”

“You won’t have me to compete with anymore,” Raven said.

“I don’t want you to go!” Summer cried. “I want you to stay, with Tai, with Yang, with me.”

“To what end?” Raven demanded.

“To our happiness,” Summer said. “While we have it.”

Raven turned her back on her. “I’m sorry, Summer,” she said, “but that’s not enough to hold me. Not… not when set against the pain of when that happiness eventually ends. Goodbye.”

“Death is the end of this road,” Raven declared. “Death or flight, like myself, or your father.”

“Dad hasn’t run away,” Yang said.

“Yes,” Raven said, “he has. I don’t begrudge him that — in fact, I think he made the right decision to stay and take care of you both — but he isn’t better than me for flying to a cottage instead of … it doesn’t make him better than me.” She paused for a moment. “There will come a time, a time that may come much sooner than you imagine, when it will hit your friends like a truck: just what you’ve gotten yourself into, just how hopeless it is, how pointless it is—”

“It isn’t pointless!” Ruby declared.

“Can you guarantee that they’ll see it the same way?” Raven asked. “Sunset, Pyrrha … the other one?”

“Jaune.”

“Jaune, yes, thank you,” Raven said. “Can you really say for certain that they will all agree with you, that their wills won’t falter, that they won’t look at one another and think that they would rather live their lives than give them in this endless futile war?”

“No,” Ruby said firmly. “I mean yes, I mean … I mean they won’t…” Ruby trailed off.

If she wasn’t certain, if she couldn’t defy Raven’s predictions absolutely, then … then Yang couldn’t blame her for that. Sunset had denied that she would do what Raven had, she had promised that she wasn’t going to run, but then she’d disappeared for a bit. And yes, she’d come back a few days later with an explanation about a solo mission and Equestrian magic and apparently two Atlesian students had been with her to prove that it wasn’t a gigantic pile of BS that she’d just made up to explain running away and then growing a conscience, but still … Yang was grateful to Sunset for telling her the truth when Ruby wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean she trusted her.

And as for Jaune and Pyrrha … they were so sweet, it was rotting Yang’s teeth, but if they were to decide that they would rather spend their lives together than give them in this war, then Yang didn’t think she’d be able to blame them.

She didn’t think Ruby would be able to blame them either.

“I don’t know what my friends will do,” Ruby said. “And I can’t control them. I can only decide what I can do. And I’ve decided that I’m going to fight this fight as best I can for as long as I can, like Mom.”

“Even to your end?” Raven asked.

“If that’s what it takes,” Ruby whispered.

Raven sighed. “Ozpin is not worthy of the courage of those who serve him,” she declared.

“Professor Ozpin is defending humanity,” Ruby said. “What could be more worthy than that?”

“He could inform his warriors of everything, instead of dispensing knowledge according to his own designs,” Raven said. “Yang, you asked me if you had left anything out, and you had, the Four Maidens—”

The dorm room door opened violently, slamming into the wall with a thunderous crack.

Professor Goodwitch strode through the open doorway, her cape swaying side to side behind her, her riding crop gripped tightly in her hand.

Her green eyes blazed as she glared at Raven.

Her voice, when she spoke, was clipped and sharp. “Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long,” she said. “Get behind me, immediately.”

Yang looked at her. Behind her, in the doorway, she could see Ren and Nora peering in.

She guessed that they had called Professor Goodwitch after Raven kicked them out.

Thanks for caring, guys, even if I’m not sure how grateful I am right now.

“Professor—” Ruby began.

“Now!” Professor Goodwitch snapped.

Yang and Ruby scrambled over the bed, putting it between themselves and Raven, before making their way behind Professor Goodwitch; while they might not agree that Raven was dangerous to them, they didn’t want to get on Professor Goodwitch’s bad side when she was in a mood like this.

Raven got to her feet, walking away from Yang and Ruby. “Glynda,” she said softly.

“In this place, Miss Branwen, you call me Professor,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Raven smirked. “People don’t talk to me like that very often these days, Professor,” she said. “It’s … a little refreshing. Should we be expecting Oz to join us?”

“Professor Ozpin feels sorry for you,” Professor Goodwitch said. “He feels guilty—”

“And so he should,” Raven replied.

“I, on the other hand, do not,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And I am quite capable of evicting you from the grounds.”

“I’m not the arrogant first-year student who thought that she could take you on, Professor,” Raven said.

“Try me, Miss Branwen, and I will show you how much you still have to learn,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Raven chuckled. “Then it’s lucky for me that I didn’t come here to fight, isn’t it, Professor?” She walked to the window and opened it. She glanced back at Yang. “Ruby’s choice doesn’t have to be yours, Yang,” she said. “You don’t have to get involved, especially when you’re not wanted. You can still do what’s best for yourself.”

“And what about my family?” Yang demanded.

“What kind of family keeps the truth about your mother from you?” Raven asked.

Ruby opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Raven had leapt out of the window.

Nora gasped.

“She’ll be alright,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Unfortunately. She will also be gone from here by now.” She turned around. “Miss Valkyrie, Mister Ren, will you give me a moment with Miss Xiao Long and Miss Rose?”

“But—” Nora began.

“I am grateful to you for informing me of the presence of that reprobate,” Professor Goodwitch said, “but there are some things that must be discussed privately.”

Nora groaned and muttered something about ‘again,’ but they did close the door.

Professor Goodwitch clasped her riding crop behind her back. Her voice was softer as she said, “Miss Xiao Long … I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. I’m sorry that I have to ask this, but—”

“It’s alright, Professor,” Yang said. “She didn’t tell me anything that I didn’t already know.”

Professor Goodwitch stared at her, eyes narrowing.

Yang stared right back. “That’s right, Professor,” she said. “I know.”

Professor Goodwitch’s chest rose and fell. “I see,” she murmured. “I think that you had better come to my office, Miss Xiao Long.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter retains the flashbacks but changes the present day stuff around them, obviously without Tai and the setting changed. And of course the coming home to roost a little bit of Ruby keeping everything secret from Yang.

Left Behind (New)

Left Behind

Yang could not quite keep the frown off her brow as she followed Professor Goodwitch into her office.

This was … she kind of wanted this. She had, she realized, wanted this, wanted something like this, ever since Sunset had pulled her into that storage closet in the hospital and told her the truth. She had wanted someone — Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, anyone — to confirm what Sunset had said, to not only confirm that Sunset had told her the truth but also to confirm why they hadn’t told Yang.

Why they had told Ruby all of this, but not her?

Why Ruby hadn’t told her. Why Ruby had apparently been forbidden to tell her.

And yet, at the same time, the fact that she was now getting what she wanted brought her no joy. In fact, she was more than a little upset about the whole thing; she was upset that it had taken Raven showing up to bring things to this point; she was upset that if Nora and Ren hadn’t called Professor Goodwitch about Raven, then Professor Goodwitch would have had no reason to give her this meeting, then she would never have known that Yang knew any of this.

She was upset that the only reason Professor Goodwitch was talking to her about this was because she didn’t want Yang blabbering about things that she didn’t really want Yang to know in the first place.

She was upset that the only two people who seemed to think that she deserved to know any of this stuff were her no-good abandoning mother and Sunset Shimmer, who was on her way to being a no-good abandoner herself, in Yang’s judgement.

She was upset that she was getting what she wanted in a way quite unlike she would have wanted to come by it.

Yang expected Professor Goodwitch to sit down behind her desk, but she did not; instead, as Yang shut the office door behind her, Professor Goodwitch walked briskly towards the royal blue armchair that sat just past the corner of the office, facing the burgundy sofa that sat against the wall beneath a set of framed accreditations and qualifications from various institutes and professional organisations.

Professor Goodwitch’s heels clicked against the tiles of the floor as she walked to the chair and sat down upon it. With one hand, she gestured to the sofa. “Please, sit down, Miss Xiao Long.”

Yang’s steps were slow, but she did as Professor Goodwitch had asked, making her way towards the sofa and sitting down in the middle of it, not too close to Professor Goodwitch but not too far away either, just the right distance from her.

She rested her hands on either side of her, feeling the slightly uneven texture of the sofa beneath her fingertips.

Professor Goodwitch gestured with her riding crop, and the bowl of sweets that sat on her desk levitated up and zipped across the office towards her, coming to a stop floating just in front of Yang.

“Would you care for something, Miss Xiao Long?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Yang wasn’t sure that she would, but at this point, it would have felt rude to refuse, and so she reached out towards the glass bowl and took out a lemon and lime flavour chew. As Professor Goodwitch telekinetically placed the bowl back on her desk, Yang unwrapped the sweet — it was green and soft and squishy to the touch — and popped it into her mouth. It had a tangy flavour. As she chewed, Yang looked for somewhere to put the paper wrapper.

Professor Goodwitch gave a very discrete flick of her riding crop, and a waste paper bin of black wire scraped across the floor a little closer towards them.

Yang curled up the paper and threw it into the bin with unerring accuracy.

Professor Goodwitch said, “Miss Xiao Long, I am sure that you must have questions, but I am afraid that I must begin with a question of my own. Who told you about Salem?”

Yang swallowed the sweet. “I’m not a snitch, Professor.”

“Professor Ozpin will want to know how you came by this knowledge,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Tough,” Yang replied. “I’m not going to get someone into trouble.”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. “I think I can hazard a guess as to where you might have heard all of this, but … why don’t we just say that Raven told you and leave it at that?”

Yang hesitated for a moment. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Despite how it may seem, Miss Xiao Long, I would like to respect your wishes,” Professor Goodwitch said softly.

Yang scowled. “You’re right; it doesn’t seem that way.”

Professor Goodwitch frowned, although by the way that her mouth turned down, it seemed like she wasn’t frowning out of anger so much as … sadness? Was she sad? Yang couldn’t really imagine what she had to be sad about.

“I’m sorry, Yang,” she said, her voice unexpectedly soft and gentle. “You deserve — in my opinion, at least — better than this. I can’t imagine how hard all of this must be for you.”

“I’ll bet you can’t,” Yang muttered.

Professor Goodwitch said, “If you’re angry, then please feel free to let me know it. This is … a safe space.”

Yang blinked. “Are we … are we having therapy?”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But I think that some of the conditions of counselling are applicable in this case. Feel free to yell at me, if you wish.”

“Oh, thank you, Professor, that’s really nice of you, to admit that I have things to be angry about,” Yang said, her voice rising. “I’m angry that Ruby, who is only fifteen, who is just a first-year student, has spent the whole year getting involved in stuff that grown huntsmen ought to be doing; no, in fact, it’s even worse than that: she’s doing things that most grown huntsmen never even come close to doing! That most grown huntsmen never even know about! I’m angry because I came into this office, and I talked to you about this at the start of last semester; I told you that I didn’t get why Ruby and her team were doing a job like that instead of any professional huntsmen, and you acted as though you were on my side, and then you turned around and you recruited her to fight some immortal witch who can’t be killed, and yes, I know that’s a tauta— … a tortuo— … I know that those things both mean the same!

“I’m angry that you trusted Ruby, and Jaune, and … okay, Pyrrha I can get; if I was in your shoes, I’d want Pyrrha on the team too, but Jaune and Sunset? You thought Sunset was trustworthy, you thought that Sunset could be told about this, and that was fine, but me? No, you made it clear to Ruby that I wasn’t supposed to know any of this. And more than that, Professor Ozpin has started telling Ruby all about Mom, but I don’t deserve to know any of that either!

“She was my mother too!” Yang cried, leaning forwards, tears springing to her eyes. “Just because she didn’t give birth to me like she did Ruby … she’s the one who I remember tucking me in at night, and when I scraped my knees, she’s the one who kissed it better. She was my mother too, and I’m not even … even that is being kept from me, by Professor Ozpin, by Ruby. By Ruby, who complains about the way that her teammates treat her while treating me in the exact same way, and I’m angry at myself because I’m aware of the hypocrisy of me actually knowing this stuff and not telling Ren or Nora about it.”

She closed her eyes, wiping away her tears with one hand. “And I’m angry because … because it seems like Raven was right. You did recruit Ruby just like you recruited Mom and Dad and Raven and Uncle Qrow, and … and Mom died, and now, Ruby is walking down that exact same path, and … will she even live long enough to have a kid of her own to abandon?”

Professor Goodwitch waited for a moment, seemingly to confirm that Yang was done. “And Miss Belladonna?”

Yang blinked. “What about her?”

“She also knows the truth; she also kept it from you.”

“I’m not angry at her, if that’s what you mean,” Yang said. “If we were real partners, then sure, I’d be angry at her too, but … what we have is a … it’s convenient. It’s convenient for her, it’s convenient for me and my team, but next year, she’ll be gone to Atlas, and … she doesn’t owe me anything. Besides, it’s only because she’s halfway through the door to Atlas already that she knows anything about this, right?”

Professor Goodwitch did not reply.

“Come on, Professor,” Yang said. “I already know so much; what have you got to lose by telling me the rest?”

“More than a little,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “But you are … not incorrect. It was not Professor Ozpin’s choice to inform Miss Belladonna — although Professor Ozpin’s plans do sometimes rely on his ability to predict the actions of others, so I wouldn’t wholly discount the possibility — and if she had not been associated with Team Rosepetal, then it is possible that she would have remained in the dark about this.” She paused for a moment. “I must ask that you continue to keep Miss Valkyrie and Mister Ren ignorant of these facts that you have learned.”

“Why?” Yang asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

“You saw how people reacted in the immediate aftermath of the Breach,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Just the reminder that we live in a dangerous world was enough to shock the inhabitants of this kingdom. Imagine what knowledge such as you possess would do. And to what end? As you seem to be aware, Salem cannot be killed, so what would people do with the knowledge that she exists? Brood upon it, panic at it, despair at it? The best thing that they could do is put it from their minds, and that being the case, it is better that it never enters their minds to begin with.”

“When you put it like that, Professor, it makes me wonder why she doesn’t publicise herself,” Yang murmured.

Professor Goodwith was silent for a moment. “That is not a bad point,” she conceded. “But neither I, nor Professor Ozpin, is inclined to look that particular gift horse in the mouth.” Again, she paused. “This … this may sound self-serving, and you are free to dismiss it if you wish, but … I think Professor Ozpin was wrong to keep this from you. If it had been my choice, I would have brought Team Iron into the fold, rather than Team Sapphire.”

Yang’s eyebrows. “You … really?”

Professor Goodwitch ventured a small smile. “Is that so surprising, Miss Xiao Long?”

Yang was silent for a second. “Um … kinda?”

Professor Goodwitch rose to her feet, walking across the room towards the window. It was dark outside, but the stars offered little pinpricks of light in the blackness beyond. “Partly, I must admit, it is nothing more than personal preference. We all, I think, choose those to whom we feel … those we feel are more like ourselves. So, General Ironwood would choose — has chosen — those who are skilled applicants of force … and not much more,” she added, with clear disdain that Yang didn’t know the Atlesians well enough to judge whether it was earned or not.

“I’m not sure Blake’s like that,” she ventured. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she isn’t.”

“How would you know, Miss Xiao Long?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

That was a good point, to which Yang had no response.

“And Professor Ozpin?” she asked, changing the subject. “And you?”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. “Do you know what Raven Branwen is?” she asked. “Did she tell you?”

Yang wasn’t sure what the professor’s question had to do with hers, but she answered it nevertheless. “No, she didn’t. It didn’t come up.”

“I can imagine it didn’t,” Professor Goodwitch growled. “Raven is a bandit.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “A … a bandit.”

It was … not what she had been expecting. She had known that Raven had ditched her, ditched Dad, run away and abandoned her family, but to what, to where … she had had no idea. She hadn’t really thought about it. The what, she meant. She’d thought about the where a whole lot, but the what … whenever she had imagined finding her mother again, whenever she had thought about their reunion … what her mother was, what Raven was beyond Yang’s mother, that … that was kind of hazy. It wasn’t something she had been concerned with.

She couldn’t help but be concerned now. “You … you’re not talking about a romantic bandit, are you? Not someone who took up arms against a wicked official or whatever?”

“No, Miss Xiao Long, I am talking about the kind of bandit that steals, that murders anyone who comes between her and that which she wishes to steal, who despoils villages, and whose depredations call down the grimm on any poor souls who happen to survive her attack, that is the kind of bandit Raven Branwen is.” Professor Goodwitch sighed. “That is why I cannot forgive her, as Professor Ozpin might. I could, perhaps, forgive the cowardice; I could forgive her for running away, for forsaking the battle; if that were all that she had done, it might be said that Professor Ozpin chose poorly … he did choose poorly, in my opinion, just as in my opinion he has done so again, but I could possibly forgive Raven for not living up to the expectations placed upon her. But for what she did afterwards, for what she turned to after her flight … that, I cannot forgive. That deserves nothing but my contempt.”

Yang swallowed. It was not what she had expected … and it was not what she had wanted to hear. Her mother … a bandit. Her mother, a murderer; her mother, a thief. Her mother, the most wretched scum on Remnant.

And that was the woman I wanted to find so badly. No wonder Dad and Uncle Qrow didn’t tell me anything about her, or where she might be.

I guess they were trying to protect me, after all.

Not that that makes it any better. Ruby might have been trying to protect me too, but it doesn’t make that any better either.

She could not meet Professor Goodwitch’s eyes. She looked down at her knees, and upon her hands which rested upon them.

“Why?” she asked. “Of all the things that she could do, why that?”

Professor Goodwitch did not reply.

“Professor?” Yang asked, looking up at her.

“I fear I may have said too much already,” Professor Goodwitch said softly. “Your father and uncle might not—”

“Come on, Professor!” Yang cried. “Whether or not you’ve said too much, you’ve said it now; you can’t take it back. You may as well tell me the rest.”

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “Very well. Raven returned to banditry; she had been born into it; the Branwen Tribe are a particularly notorious group of outlaws. She, and your uncle, were sent to Beacon to … to hone the skills that they would then bring back to their tribe, for that tribe’s benefit.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “Did … did you know that at the time, or—?”

“They admitted as much, eventually,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Uncle Qrow, too?” Yang whispered.

“You should not judge your uncle for this,” Professor Goodwitch told her. “No one can help who they are born or where they are born into; unlike Raven, he did not return to the tribe or to their way or life. Unlike Raven, he rose to Professor Ozpin’s expectations of him, regardless of whether you think it was right to put such expectations upon him in the first place.”

“You didn’t think they should?” Yang guessed.

“I knew there was something that the Branwen twins were hiding; I just didn’t know what it was,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And I must admit that I never really liked Raven. At that time, I wasn’t particularly fond of Qrow, either.”

“And now?”

“Now … now, I must concede that your uncle has earned our trust and a place in our circle,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“And my mom?” asked Yang. “Summer, I mean, and Dad?”

Professor Goodwitch glanced away, towards the window and the night beyond. “The whole of Team Stark was … very young,” she said. “Too young, I thought. But then, I was very young myself at the time, young and unsure of my place, still less of my right to criticize Professor Ozpin or speak out against him. I had only taken up the post of combat instructor the year before, and I had only graduated a couple of years before that.”

“Did you know?” Yang asked. “About Salem and all the rest, before you got the job?”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “That was something that came up with Professor Ozpin shortly before my first term began. ‘Ah, Glynda, how are you settling in? Splendid. Just wanted to go over a few details, check that you were ready to go, don’t hesitate to ask if you need help with lesson plans, and by the way, the grimm are led by an immortal queen who cannot be killed, and part of your job is to train the students to do battle with her sinister agents. Best of luck.’”

Yang snorted. That snort turned into a brief fit of the giggles, which forced her to cover her mouth with one hand. “Sorry, Professor,” she said.

But Professor Goodwitch was smiling as well. “It wasn’t quite that perfunctory,” she admitted. “But it was not far off.”

Yang smiled. “So … none of the rest of your team, no one—”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch said. “No one but myself.”

“That must have been hard,” Yang murmured.

“There were certainly people that I wanted to tell,” Professor Goodwitch admitted. “But what good would it have done? What would it have helped to have told my old partner, any friends? The people … the people I most wanted to tell were the students. I wanted to tell them what they were really up against. I know that some students find my combat class a little … puzzling. They don’t understand why so much time is devoted to teaching you how to fight other human or faunus opponents when the primary purpose of a huntsman is to fight grimm.”

Yang shrugged. “Bandits—”

“Who frequently have no aura, or very little of it, and no training such as you receive here,” Professor Goodwitch said. “If that were all, my class truly would be a waste of time.”

“The Vytal Festival?” Yang offered.

“Yes,” Professor Goodwitch said, without much enthusiasm. “Yes, that is the common answer. A lot of students do see my class as training and preparation for the tournament, and those who have less interest in the tournament can sometimes see my class as a lark in response. I wanted to tell them all, to shake them by the collar, to shout at them ‘This is not a game! This could be life and death!’”

“Then why didn’t you?” Yang asked.

Professor Goodwitch took a deep breath. “Professor Ozpin revealed a little more to me of the history of this struggle, how the knowledge of Salem has … broken people. Broken them as it broke Raven, or worse.”

Yang frowned. “What’s worse than banditry?”

“Betrayal,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “Some, driven by fear of Salem, have joined her in the hopes of fair advantage or simple survival. The more people are aware of the truth, the greater the chance that some of them will be…”

“Broken by it,” Yang finished for her. “Which is why Professor Ozpin didn’t want me to know. To be honest…”

“Yes, Miss Xiao Long?”

“I’m a little surprised he let me into Beacon,” Yang admitted. “What with what my—”

“You are not Raven Branwen, Yang,” Professor Goodwitch said, her voice softening. She returned to her chair. “You were not born guilty of her crimes.”

“But I am her daughter,” Yang murmured. “And that’s why Professor Ozpin doesn’t trust me.”

“Then Professor Ozpin is mistaken,” Professor Goodwitch said firmly. “You are nothing like Raven. You have far too much of your mother in you.”

Yang looked at her. “I…” She blinked rapidly. “Thank you, Professor,” she murmured. She shuffled across the sofa, closer to Professor Goodwitch.

“For what?” Professor Goodwitch said. “For truth? Summer Rose was brave, yes, but also kind and thoughtful, considerate of others' weaknesses as well as their strengths. I am sure, I know, that she would be very proud of the person you’ve become.”

Yang smiled, she could not resist the smile that spread across her face. “You … you never actually answered my question, Professor.”

“Which question?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

“What you and Professor Ozpin look for and why it’s different,” Yang reminded her.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Goodwitch said. “You mean, why Professor Ozpin chose Team Sapphire in whom to place his trust, while I would have chosen you?”

Yang nodded.

Professor Goodwitch paused for a moment. “Professor Ozpin … Professor Ozpin is of two minds in what he wants; on the one hand, he favours those with an outsized desire to do good, a self-conscious sense of heroism about them; one might almost call it a belief that one is the hero of one’s own story. And yet, he also favours those who require … some work. Those like Raven.”

“Or Sunset,” Yang said.

“I’m not going to comment on present students; that would be very unprofessional,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Fair enough,” Yang said, “but what about you, Professor? What would you choose, if the choice was yours?”

She could understand how Team Sapphire fit Professor Goodwitch’s description of Professor Ozpin’s aims; now, she couldn’t help but be curious as to how she saw Yang and her own team.

“I must admit,” Professor Goodwitch said, “that I wasn’t certain about your team at first. I wasn’t sure about Miss Valkyrie and Mister Ren, how they would get along, but the three of you — leaving Miss Belladonna aside, given her status — have shown me the makings of professional huntsmen and huntresses. You have completed the missions assigned to you with a minimum of fuss, you have answered the call when you have heard it … that is what I would look for, if it were up to me: those who could get the job done, quickly, cleanly, professionally. Is that the praise you were hoping for, Miss Xiao Long?”

“It’s maybe not what I expected,” Yang said. “But I’ll take it.”

As she said that, she realized that while it may not have been what she expected, she could understand what Professor Goodwitch was saying. You might not look at Nora — or Yang herself — and immediately think the word ‘professional,’ but they never let their manners get in the way of the work.

“But I still can’t tell them,” she said. “Can I?”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I’m afraid not. Professor Ozpin is our leader, for good or ill. But, since you know already, having been informed by … Raven, do you have any questions?”

Yang let out a sort of laugh. “I suppose we could start with ‘it’s all true, isn’t it?’ Salem, immortal, unkillable, controls the grimm.”

“Sadly, yes,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “All true.”

“How does that work?” Yang asked. “Controlling the grimm?”

“I hardly know; the opportunity to study it has been limited,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But direct control is … rare, it seems. The grimm are not a hivemind, and most of the time appear to be driven by the base instincts that you learn about in Professor Port’s Grimm Studies.”

“Glad to know that’s not a complete waste of time,” Yang muttered. “I … I don’t know, Professor; this is so big that it’s hard to know where to … why students? You’ve told me why, out of all the students at this school, Professor Ozpin chose Team Sapphire, but … why students? He waited until you graduated, why not do that?”

“Sometimes it isn’t always possible,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Events move at their own pace, or at a pace dictated by Salem. When Miss Fall’s treachery was discovered … it became necessary to move swiftly.”

“There was no one else?” asked Yang. “No real huntsmen at all you could have sent to Mountain Glenn?”

“Only your uncle Qrow,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And he has been out of contact for a while.”

“So, less of a secret conspiracy, and more of a…” Yang trailed off. “'Out of contact'?”

“That’s not unusual, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, for us,” Yang said. “Since Uncle Qrow quit teaching, he can go weeks, months without dropping by or calling or … anything like that. But I figured that since he works for you on something this important that you’d know how to find out where he was. You … you don’t?”

“If Qrow chooses to go dark, it must be because he considers it important to do so,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Any attempt we could make to reach him could compromise his position.”

“Yeah, but he could also be dead somewhere, and you’d never know,” Yang declared. “Just like Mom.”

“Unfortunately, yes, that is also true.”

Yang frowned. It’s Uncle Qrow; he’ll be fine.

I hope he’ll be fine.

He’d better be fine.

“So … aside from Uncle Qrow, you’ve got no one else, so you had to recruit Team Sapphire?”

“Yes,” Professor Goodwitch said, not sounding very proud of the fact.

“How did you manage when Uncle Qrow was teaching at Signal?”

“There were others, at that time,” Professor Goodwitch said softly.

Yang didn’t ask what had happened to them. She could guess the answers already. “I gotta say, Professor, you’re not filling me up with good feelings about all this.”

“I wish that I had more comfort to offer you,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But I think you would rather have the truth than comforting lies, wouldn’t you?”

Yang snorted. “Yeah,” she said, “yeah, I would.” She paused for a moment. “Professor … what are the Four Maidens?”

Professor Goodwitch’s eyebrows rose. “Not something I would have expected you to know about.”

Not something that Sunset chose not to tell me then, something she doesn’t know either. “I really did hear that from Raven,” Yang explained. “You burst in before she could spill the details.”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be providing the explanation that she did not,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“But you do know the answer,” Yang said.

“Yes,” Professor Goodwitch allowed. “But there are secrets that … lives would be put in danger by spreading certain information too freely.”

“The lives of the Four Maidens?” Yang asked.

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Yang raised her hands. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

She wasn’t entirely happy about the fact, but she could appreciate that people’s lives — the lives of the Four Maidens, the lives of people connected with them maybe — were more important than her desire to know. She wanted answers, but not if those answers were going to get people killed.

You had to be … professional, about these things.

“Why … just because I’m not supposed to know about Salem, why does that mean that I can’t learn about Mom?”

“Well,” Professor Goodwitch said, “Professor Ozpin isn’t the only person who could tell you about your mother.”

“Really?” Yang asked, her voice rising. “Like … now?”

Professor Goodwitch checked the time on her watch. “If you wish.”

A part of Yang knew that she ought to get Ruby; another part of her felt that turnaround was eminently fair play in this particular situation.

“I’d like that a lot, Professor,” she said. “Thank you.”

Professor Goodwitch smiled. “Well then,” she said. “My first memory of your mother is of the very first combat class that she participated in. Raven had humiliated herself at the beginning of the lesson, so I intended to take pity on the rest of Team Stark, but your mother stood up and volunteered for the first fight.”

“Did you pit the students against one another to see what level they were at, the way you did for us?” Yang asked.

“Precisely,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Now, for Summer’s opponent, I chose a huntress named Celestia…”

Sisterly Squabble (New)

Sisterly Squabble

“Yang—”

“Go away, Ruby, I’m not in the mood,” Yang said, her tone a surly one.

She was sitting on the roof of the dorm room, looking out across the campus, and from there, farther off, across Vale itself. Close by, the Emerald Tower loomed, its green lights shining brightly like a … well, like a Beacon. The lights of Vale glimmered down below, like diamonds, or stars that had fallen to the ground. She couldn’t make them out very clearly, though, not like she could the lights of the tower.

She could make out the lights of the Atlesian cruisers as well, she had to admit, blinking red and green as they glided in their stately fashion through the air, patrolling over Vale — and over Beacon too — like big black whales attended on by scores of little fish.

But again and again, as she sat on the roof, Yang’s eyes were drawn to the big green lights of the Emerald Tower. She wondered if Professor Ozpin was still up there, in his office at the top of the tower. Working away, not necessarily in running the school, but in devising ways to stop or hinder Salem, to keep Vale and humanity safe.

To throw Team SAPR into battle again.

Yang sat on the roof with her knees up and her arms wrapped around her legs, and she paid no attention whatsoever to the person standing in the doorway behind her.

“Yang,” Ruby repeated. “Come on, can’t we at least talk about this?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about this?” Yang demanded. “Well maybe I don’t, not anymore.” Not right now, anyway. She would talk to Ruby, eventually; she would forgive Ruby, because of course she would — she was her little sister, and she loved her — but … but she was allowed to be upset about this for just a little bit!

It wasn’t like they were little kids anymore and Yang couldn’t get upset with Ruby because she was all that Ruby had. If Ruby was old enough to attend Beacon, then she was old enough to deal with the fact that her big sister didn’t want to talk right now, wasn’t ready to forgive her just yet.

“I wanted to tell you!” Ruby cried. “But Professor Ozpin made me promise not to say anything—”

Despite herself, Yang looked around over her shoulder at Ruby. “First of all, that didn’t stop Sunset from telling me, and second of all, that’s not the point! You don’t even get why I’m upset, do you?”

Ruby walked towards her, until she was no longer standing behind Yang but beside her, looking down upon her seated sister. She played with her hands, lacing her fingers together and then unlacing them, clasping and unclasping them. “It … it’s because I didn’t tell you, isn’t it?”

“About Salem and all the rest?” Yang asked. “No. No, that’s not it. If that were all it was, if that were the only thing that you hadn’t said, then … I wouldn’t be happy about it; I wouldn’t be happy that I had to hear it from Sunset Shimmer, but I wouldn’t be mad about it either. I mean I wasn’t mad. I’ve known for a while, and you never knew because … because it wasn’t a big deal. I got it. You were told a secret, and you were asked not to share it … not even with me.”

“Yang—”

“That’s on Professor Ozpin, not you,” Yang said quickly, before Ruby could say anything. “He’s the one who didn’t trust me, not you.” She paused for a moment. “I’m mad about … everything else.”

“About Mom,” Ruby murmured.

“Yes, about Mom,” Yang said. “It’s bad enough that you went to talk to Professor Ozpin to get special details about her that we didn’t know without me—”

“Professor Ozpin didn’t know that—”

“I know that he didn’t want me to know about Salem, but what does that have to do with Mom?” Yang demanded. “He could have told you that stuff about Mom getting almost mugged on her first night in Vale without mentioning Salem at all; I bet there’s loads of stuff he could have told us both that didn’t require me to know his secrets, and he could have talked around the secrets if he’d wanted to. And if he didn’t think of that, you should have.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think that she was just your mom?”

“What?” Ruby cried. “No! Why would you even ask me something like that?”

“Because of the way that you didn’t think that I might want to hear about Mom, too?” Yang suggested sharply. “Because of the way that you didn’t tell me anything that the professor told you, you didn’t even tell me that you’d met with him? And do you know what the worst part is? I have listened to you complaining about exactly this from your team! How Sunset treats you like a kid, how Pyrrha doesn’t trust you, how neither of them treat you like an equal, how the two of them get together and make decisions about you, for you, without telling you; I’ve listened to you talk about how much it sucks, and I agree, it does suck, but then, when you get the chance, you turn around and do the exact same thing to me! That’s the part that really gets to me: you know how annoying this is, how much it hurts, but you did it anyway!”

Ruby was silent for a moment. She wasn’t looking at Yang any more; if she couldn’t meet Yang’s eyes, then … then good. She shouldn’t be able to meet Yang’s eyes after what she’d done.

And yet, at the same time, Yang couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been too harsh with Ruby here. After all, it wasn’t … well, it was absolutely one hundred percent Ruby’s fault, but at the same time … Professor Ozpin had put her in a difficult position.

But being put in a difficult position didn’t mean that Ruby hadn’t had a choice in the matter. She had. She could have fought for Yang; she could have remembered how it felt to be left in the dark and to have decisions made over your head.

She could have cared about her sister.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured.

“Sorry that you got caught?”

“No,” Ruby insisted. “I’m sorry, I … I didn’t think—”

“Didn’t think what, that I’d want to know?” Yang demanded.

“I … I don’t know. I’m just sorry,” Ruby said, in a voice that was soft and quiet.

Yang was silent for a moment, and then for a moment more. She looked away from Ruby, her gaze once more rising to the green lights of the tower.

You sure know how to make our lives complicated, Professor.

“I’m sure you are,” Yang murmured. “But I … I need some time to myself. I’m not ready to … goodnight, Ruby.”

“You don’t … you don’t want to hear about Mom?” Ruby asked.

“Not right now,” Yang said, a slight sigh in her voice. At some point — probably at the same point when she really and truly accepted Ruby’s apology — she would tell Ruby about what Professor Goodwitch had had to share about Summer Rose, and in turn, Ruby could tell her what she had found out from Professor Ozpin.

But they weren’t there yet. Yang wasn’t there yet. She needed some time to … to be angry about this, because she had a right to be!

She was allowed to want some time for herself.

Nevertheless, the look on Ruby’s face, the way she bowed her head, the way her lower lip trembled, all of the things that Yang could see out of the corner of her eye, nearly broke her, and it took an immense exercise of will to keep from saying anything, from calling out as Ruby turned away and walked away, disappearing through the doorway and into the dorm rooms.

Yang sighed and buried her head in her hands.

Yes, Mom, I know she’s upset; I could see that for myself.

Yeah, I know I’m being just as bad as she is, but there’s a difference, okay? The difference is that I’m going to tell her everything; I just don’t feel like it right now.

Yes, that’s a difference; she wouldn’t have told me anything if Raven hadn’t shown up.

No, I don’t know when I’ll tell her, but I will; I promise.

I wish I could have been your daughter.

But that was not to be. There was no changing who you were born to, no escaping it. Her mother, as much as she might wish it otherwise, as much as she might deny the fact, was not Summer Rose.

Her mother was Raven Branwen, the bandit.

Her mother was a killer, her mother was a thief, her mother took what she wanted and hurt — killed — anyone who got in her way. Her mother had come to Beacon to learn not how to defend people but how to get better at the whole ‘kill anyone who gets in our way’ part.

Her mother was a stain on the world, and Yang was her daughter.

Hers, not Summer Rose’s. Ruby was Summer Rose’s daughter; that was why she got to find out about her from Professor Ozpin, that was why she was allowed into the headmaster’s confidence, the keeper of his secrets, his warrior in this secret war. While she, the bandit’s daughter, was cast out, condemned to wait in the wings, to stand outside the circle of trust.

On the outside, looking in.

Looking in and wishing she were someone other than she was.

This is probably what I deserve, huh, Mom? It’s what I get for wanting to know? I guess I should have been happy to have had a mother like you and not gone chasing after someone else I only knew from a picture?

I should have been happy to have had you, if only for a little bit.

“Hey, you okay?”

Yang looked up, blinking; Sun Wukong stood over her, smiling, but in a friendly way, not a ‘how can you be so happy when I’m miserable, I hate the sight of you’ jealousy-inducing kind of way.

“Sun?” Yang murmured. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know.”

“No,” Yang said. “No, I don’t know.”

Sun’s grin became a tough raffish. “Well, that’s the thing, neither do I.”

Yang snorted. “So, you just ended up on the roof by … accident?”

“I just got these legs, you know?” Sun replied. “They’ve gotta keep moving, or else they seize up, and they might not work again.”

“Really?” Yang asked. “You’d better not stand around here too long, in that case.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” Sun asked. “Because, you know, if you want me to go, then I’ll go, but if not…” He sat down beside her. “My legs can stay still for just a little bit.” He folded his arms. “So, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Yang said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Of course,” Sun agreed. “Because people who are fine always sit alone on dark rooftops at night with their heads in their hands.”

Yang looked at him. “Do people who are fine wander around said dark rooftops instead?”

“Almost certainly not,” Sun conceded. “But then, I never claimed to be fine, did I?”

Yang chuckled. “No. No, you didn’t.” She paused. “You don’t have to stick around if you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Yeah,” Sun said. “I think I do.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think you’re really fine,” Sun said, in a conspiratorial whisper, as though this were some startling information that he had uncovered. “So I can’t leave until you are. That’s the Code of the Wukongs.”

“'The Code of the Wukongs,'” Yang repeated.

“The Code of the Wukongs,” Sun agreed. “Never let a girl cry, never let a buddy down.”

Yang’s lilac eyes narrowed. “How exactly does ditching your team and stowing away on a ship to Beacon count as not letting a buddy down?”

“Well, I knew that Scarlet really wanted to be team leader, so I got myself out of the way so that he could have a go.”

“Is that right?” Yang muttered dryly. “How about the time you stowed away on that airship with Blake and the Atlesians, ditching your team again?”

Sun laughed nervously, a flush of colour rising to his dusky cheeks. “Well … love … doesn’t always make us the best versions of ourselves.”

Yang was silent for a moment. “Have you heard from Blake lately?”

“No,” Sun said. “You?”

Yang shook her head. “Really? You’ve not heard anything?”

“Nuh-uh,” Sun replied. “Means that she must be having a great time, I guess; such a great time that she doesn’t have time to call.”

“Or write or do anything,” Yang replied. “You ought to call her out on it when she gets back.”

“Why?”

“Because … because she’s taking you for granted,” Yang declared. “You’re not a dog; she just can’t leave you here and go waltz off to another kingdom and expect you to be waiting here when she gets back.”

“But I will be waiting here when she gets back.”

“That doesn’t mean that she can expect it,” Yang insisted. “She owes you a scroll call, at least.”

Sun shook his head. “Blake doesn’t owe me anything,” he said. “Any time that I get to spend with her, I’m so lucky. Winning the lottery the first time you buy a ticket lucky. Blake … she’s like no one else in the world. When I’m with her … when I’m with her, I don’t want to move. When I’m with her, my feet don’t itch. Vacuans aren’t meant to put down roots, but when I’m with her … because she’s the one.” He paused for a second. “But she…”

Yang waited for him to finish. “But she what?”

Sun smiled. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Especially since I think you’re stalling.”

“I’m not stalling,” Yang said.

“Yeah, you are,” Sun informed her. “Come on, why are you up here all alone in the middle of the night?”

Yang hesitated for a moment. It would be good to tell someone.

Which is why it’s such a pity that I can’t tell anyone.

That’s why Ruby thought she couldn’t tell me anything about Mom.

So … talk around it?

Yeah. That … that might be nice.

Yang sighed, her chest rising and falling. “Can you keep a secret?”

Sun nodded, the smile fading from his face and leaving only an earnest expression behind.

“That’s good to know,” Yang said. She grinned. “Unfortunately for you, so can I.” She paused for a moment. “What would you do if you knew a secret that you couldn’t tell?”

“I’d tell Neptune.”

“Did you maybe miss the part where I said you ‘couldn’t tell’?”

“No, I heard that, that’s why I wouldn’t tell Scarlet or Sage or anyone else,” Sun said. “But I’d have to tell Neptune.”

“What if you couldn’t?” Yang asked. “What if you really, absolutely couldn’t, because…”

“Because what?” Sun pressed.

“Honestly … I don’t know,” Yang replied. “Well, no, that’s not quite true, I do know; I just … I don’t know how to tell you without—”

“Telling me the secret that you know?” Sun suggested.

“Something like that, yeah,” Yang muttered. “What would you do if you found out that the world wasn’t quite what you thought it was? What if the things that you thought you knew, the things that you took for granted … they were slightly skewed, they didn’t look the way they’d seemed before.”

Sun was quiet for a moment. “Then … I guess I’d deal with it.”

“Just like that?”

Sun shrugged. “What else am I going to do? If that’s the way things are, then I can’t change them back to the way I thought they were, right?”

Yang chuckled. “Well, I … I guess not,” she admitted. “Doesn’t always mean it’s that easy though. I had a fight with Ruby.”

“Because of this secret that you can’t tell.”

“Because Ruby knew first, and she didn’t tell me,” Yang said. “I guess she doesn’t like me as much as you like Neptune.”

“Well, when I said that I would tell Neptune,” Sun said, “what I meant was that I would think about telling Neptune, whereas I would never think about telling Sage or Scarlet, not that I would always, without fail, tell Neptune. I mean, there are things that I wouldn’t tell Neptune, and there are things that Neptune wouldn’t tell me; I’d just think about telling him, just like I’m sure that Ruby thought about telling you—“

“Has anyone ever told you that you babble a little bit when you’re under pressure?” asked Yang.

Sun blinked. “No.”

“You babble when you’re under pressure,” Yang told him. “You don’t need to make excuses for Ruby. I … I get why she didn’t tell me.”

“But you had a fight with her anyway?”

Yang was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Ruby and I … we’re only half-sisters. Same dad, different moms.”

Sun nodded. “I guess that explains the names. So … did your mom die—“

“Ruby’s mom died,” Yang said. “My mom walked out on her family when I was just a baby. I didn’t even realise that Ruby’s mom wasn’t also my mom until … until she was gone.” She hesitated. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I didn’t think you were going to give me the chance to prove it,” Sun said.

“This is one of those things that I think I can tell you,” Yang said. “But I’d rather that you only thought about telling Neptune. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”

“Hey, ‘never let a girl cry, never let a buddy down,’ remember?” Sun reminded her. “The Code of the Wukongs.”

“How many Wukongs actually follow this code?” Yang asked.

“Oh, all the Wukongs do,” Sun assured her. “That’s easy, because I’m the only one there is.”

“Really?” Yang asked. “You … you don’t … your family, were they-?”

“No,” Sun told her. “Or at least, maybe they were, but I don’t remember it. Vacuans don’t do families.”

“Everyone does families.”

“Not Vacuans,” Sun insisted. “They only slow you down.”

“If you got rid of everything that slowed you down, then you’d have nothing worth living for,” Yang replied. “Besides, if families slow you down, then what do girls who drive you so crazy that you have to stow away aboard Atlesian airships do?”

Sun chuckled and scratched the back of his head with one head. “Well … listen, I never said that I was the perfect Vacuan; I just know that we don’t believe in settling down in any one place, we don’t believe in getting too attached to places or people, and … and I don’t remember my parents. I don’t remember any family, really. I’ve got a cousin who works as a mechanic, I think, but we don’t talk much. Or at all. Other than that … I’ve got no strings to hold me down. Except Neptune, I guess, and Blake.”

“Part of me thinks that you’re lucky,” Yang said. “The other part of me wants to give you a hug and tell you how sorry I am. Having no family … I can’t imagine what that’s like.” She took a moment before she went on. “Sunset stole mom’s diary — Ruby’s mom’s diary — from the Beacon archives. She stole it, and she gave it to Ruby. And Ruby read it with me, because…”

“Because she was your mom, too,” Sun said softly.

“Something like that, even though she wasn’t,” Yang replied. “Only now … I found out that Ruby had gone to see Professor Ozpin and gotten first-hand stories about her mother, about what she was like, what she went through here at Beacon. And she didn’t even tell me! She didn’t tell me the stories; she didn’t even tell me she was having the meeting. Because I wasn’t supposed to know the big secret. Because I can’t be trusted. Because my mom…”

Sun waited for a few seconds. “Because your mom what?”

Yang glanced at him. “If Vacuans don’t do families, then what do they think about defining people by their parents?”

Sun snorted. “That’s just dumb. Neptune’s family are all champion swimmers, but Neptune…”

“Neptune what?”

Sun laughed nervously. “Let’s just say that that’s a secret he’d want me to think before I shared it with anyone else, and that judging people by what their parents did or were like is moronic, okay?”

Yang hesitated. It was easy to say something like that; it might not be so easy to maintain that frame of mind once you actually had the necessary context. Still, it would be good to tell someone. “My mom is a bandit.”

Sun’s expression didn’t alter. “You’re not talking about the good kind, are you?”

“No,” Yang said softly. “I’m talking about the very, very bad kind.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I love my Dad,” she said, “with his bad jokes and his experimental recipes. But when I was a kid … there were times when I wished my name was Rose, not Xiao Long, because that would mean that I was Summer Rose’s daughter, just like Ruby. I still wish my name was Rose.”

Sun was silent for a moment, staring at her without saying anything. “What was she like?”

“Who?”

“Summer Rose,” Sun clarified. “What was she like?”

“I don’t know,” Yang said. “I’m not allowed to know.”

“What do you remember?” Sun asked.

“I remember … I remember that she used to always have this smell, like—”

“Roses?” Sun guessed.

“Sunflowers,” Yang corrected him. “Like the sunflowers that grow around our house.” Maybe that was why Dad had started planting them; she didn’t remember them being there until after Mom had gone. “When we would play hide and seek, I could always tell when she was getting warm because I could smell her coming. It would come in with her, like perfume, but … nicer. I remember this one time, I … I couldn’t go to sleep. I don’t remember why not; I just remember that I couldn’t get to sleep, and she wasn’t around. Maybe I couldn’t get to sleep because she wasn’t around, I don’t remember, but the point is … Dad couldn’t get me to sleep, and eventually, he gave up trying and let me stay up with him to wait for Mom, for Summer. And she comes in, about midnight, with this wound on her arm, and the first thing that she said, before anything else, she looked at me and said, ‘Isn’t it past your bedtime, young lady?’” Yang grinned. “Still, she let me stay up … or I don’t suppose she had much choice, since I wanted her to put me to bed, and she couldn’t do that with a bleeding arm, so she had to let me stay up until Dad had tended to her injury. Eventually, as she was tucking me in, I asked why she had to go away like that, and she kissed me on the forehead and she said, ‘For all the other little girls who might not have a mommy to tuck them in if I don’t.’”

She paused. “When I, when we were little, Ruby and me, I used to make up stories about her. I used to tell Ruby these stories about Summer Rose, the great hero with a shining sword, the fearless monster slayer. They weren’t true. I don’t remember anything about what she did as a huntress; if she ever talked to me about it, I’ve forgotten. But I knew what she did, I remember that much; I knew what she did, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, even if I did sometimes want to wait up for her for when she got back from her missions.”

Until one night when she didn’t come back. Yang didn’t think about that; it wasn’t the kind of thing that she wanted to remember. “I remember,” she went on, “how she used to experiment with her cookies. It was like … it was like they were new to her, and she was pushing the boundaries of how far she could take them.” She paused. “I mean, apparently, she did grow up outside the kingdoms and didn’t arrive in Vale until she started at Beacon, so that might actually be exactly what it was. Anyway, she could make the basic cookie flavours: chocolate, double chocolate, triple chocolate … chocolate and orange, I guess. And she could put the usual extras in like cinnamon or cardamon or … other things ending in ‘mon.’ But she would also come up with these weird ones like … pineapple cookies, bright green — and I’m talking really bright, like neon — lime cookies, cookies stuffed with ice cream in the middle, peaches and cream cookies. Some of them were really great, and I wish that I knew where she’d left the recipes for them because I’ve tried a hundred times since she left to replicate them myself, and they never work out the way I remember hers tasting. Some of them … didn’t quite work out so well, but … we always used to eat them right up because … because they were made with love.”

Sun smiled softly. “I admit that I’m not the best judge, but … that all sounds pretty much like a Mom to me.”

“Sounds like a family, anyway,” Nora said.

Yang looked around, to see Nora and Ren standing in the doorway. Ren was lounging against the doorframe, while Nora stood just in front of him with her arms folded.

“How long have you two been here?” Yang asked.

“A little while,” Nora admitted. “We came to look for you, but we didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ruby seems … a little upset about something,” Ren added.

Yang winced. “Yeah, I … I’m a little upset with her too, honestly. Ruby … Ruby was keeping things from me.”

“Things to do with your Mom?” Nora asked.

Yang shook her head. “To do with her Mom.”

“Who just so happened to do everything for you that a mother is supposed to do,” Sun pointed out. “Come on, Yang, if she wasn’t your mom, then who was she?”

Yang smiled sadly. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Then believe it!” Sun cried. “That’s what's cool about belief; nobody can say you’re wrong. If they try, you just say ‘that’s what I choose to believe.’”

“But my mom isn’t…” Yang paused for a moment. “She didn’t give birth to me. My mother isn’t the one who baked me cookies or tucked me in at night; my mother is the one who abandoned me—”

“So did mine,” Nora said quietly.

Yang turned to her once more. “R-really?” she asked. “You never … I guess I always thought that—”

“Well, she might as well have,” Nora declared as she walked forwards, Ren trailing a step or two behind her. “When the grimm attacked, she left me behind and never looked back. Kinda amazing that I survived really, but then, I guess I am kinda amazing in so many ways.” She grinned, although she couldn’t keep the smile on her face for very long. “The point is … if being left behind by my own mother taught me anything, if my life has taught me anything, it’s that family isn’t the person who happens to give birth to you.” She reached out one hand, and Ren silently slipped his fingers into her palm. “It’s the people who love you.” With her free hand, Nora reached out and gently touched Yang’s shoulder.

“But her blood is in me,” Yang murmured. “Not the blood of a hero, but a—“

“A bandit?” Nora asked. “Yeah, we heard that too. But so what? You think that means you’re going to turn to a life of crime because of whose blood flows in your veins? Do you think I’m automatically going to ditch the people I care about because my mother ditched me?”

“Bandits are amongst the most despicable people in all of Remnant,” Ren said sternly. “I have no words strong enough to condemn them and the way that they ruin and destroy lives and put even those victims they do not kill at risk from the creatures of grimm.” He looked into Yang’s eyes. “But that is not the kind of person you are, and no amount of revelations about your birth family can change that.”

Yang looked from Sun, back to Ren and Nora. “Thanks, guys,” she said softly.

The four of them sat in silence for a little while as the moon shone down upon them.

Yang turned her eyes once more towards the gleaming green lights of the Emerald Tower, but then her gaze rose further up, towards the heavens, towards the stars that stood guard all around the moon.

“They’re pretty nice tonight, aren’t they?” Yang asked. “The stars, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Nora agreed, “yeah, they are.”

And so they sat, and so they watched, and so they said little or nothing at all, as the moon and stars kept them company.

Ruby trudged across the dorm room. It was empty, of course, and it would be empty until Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha got back.

The dorm room was empty, and Yang didn’t want to talk to her.

As she sunk down onto her bed, Ruby was aware that possibly she could have handled this better. But that didn’t mean it was her fault! If she’d insisted on Yang being there, then Professor Ozpin might have changed his mind — after all, he’d promised that they would talk about Mom, not that the three of them would — and then none of them would have learned anything!

But maybe I should have told her before I told Sunset.

I would have … probably.

What am I supposed to do to fix this?

In the utter absence of anyone to talk to in the dorm room, Ruby got out her scroll and called someone who might know about fighting with her older sibling.

She waited a few moments as the call went through, before the face of Juturna Rutulus appeared on the other end of the device. Her hair was a lot messier than it usually was — she had full on bedhead, bits of hair sticking out all over the place, drooping everywhere — and she wasn’t wearing any makeup either.

And she was wearing pyjamas: purple pyjamas that didn’t quite fit her any more and had a cartoon tiger on the front.

Oh, yeah, right; time difference.

“Ruby,” Juturna said, with a leonine yawn. “What time is it where you are? It’s first thing in the morning here.”

“It’s … the middle of the night,” Ruby said. “Sorry, I can’t sleep right now.”

“Eh, it’s not like you woke me up or anything,” Juturna said, although the fact that she then yawned again suggested that she hadn’t had a completely restful night.

“You okay?” Ruby asked.

Juturna laughed. “You’re the one who rang me, and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

“You seem tired,” Ruby pointed out.

“I’m not tired, I just…” Juturna paused for some more yawning. “Okay, yes, I am a little bit tired, but only because we went to the premiere of Jewel of Menagerie last night, and we didn’t get home until late.”

“Was it any good?”

“It was pretty good fun, yeah,” Juturna said. “Boulder movies are always pretty good fun.” She sighed. “I tried to chat up one of the cute younger actors, but they’re all scared of my brother.”

Ruby chuckled. “Would he have a problem with it?”

Juturna sat down on her bed. “If they had enough money, it might be enough to help him get over the fact that they’re still just actors, but nobody wants to be the one to try it and find out.” She paused. “Anyway, you’re the one who called me, which means that you’re the one having issues, so: ‘sup?”

“Well, it’s actually kind of about … that, sort of,” Ruby said. “Do you ever fight with your brother?”

Juturna blinked. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Come on, just answer,” Ruby said. “Please.”

“Okay, the answer is no.”

“No?” Ruby repeated. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Juturna said. “We don’t fight.”

“Not ever?”

“Okay, maybe not ‘never,’” Juturna said. “But not often. Turnus doesn’t get mad at me because … well, we don’t get mad at each other because we don’t do anything for the other to get mad about.”

“What about the way that you can’t find a boyfriend because everyone is scared of him?” Ruby asked.

Juturna laughed. “Ruby, just because some actors are more chicken in real life than the characters they play … I could get a boyfriend, if I wanted one. Yeah, Turnus would have to approve of the guy — and so would Camilla as well, for different reasons — but only because … look, I’m Turnus’ little sister, and he cares about me, and until he has any kids — which might not happen if he can’t get over himself and accept that Pyrrha’s gone — then I’m his heir. He wants to make sure that the family money and land and the company isn’t going to some jackass who isn’t going to know what to do with it, and he wants to make sure that I find someone who's going to treat me right, and if he does have kids — and I really hope he will, because I really want to be someone’s cool aunt — then I won’t inherit anything so he wants to make sure that I’ll be taken care of. It’s a lot to think about, and … well, I’d rather he thought about it than he didn’t care, you get me?”

That seemed like an awful lot to think about, to Ruby; she wondered if poor people who could just date whoever they liked were better off without having to consider such a list of … considerations.

Then again, Pyrrha seems to manage okay.

“Ruby,” Juturna said, “what’s this about?”

Ruby sighed. “I’m having a fight with Yang. I guess I was hoping for some advice.”

“Hmm,” Juturna said. “Are you mad, or is she mad?”

“Yang’s mad,” Ruby supplied.

Juturna nodded. “Well, on the rare occasion when Turnus does get mad at me, I find the best thing to do is beg forgiveness.”

“Why?”

“Because he never makes me beg very long,” Juturna explained. “Neither of them do, so once I apologise, they forgive me, we hug it out, and then everything’s back to normal.”

That sounded a little disingenuous. “Do you mean it?” Ruby asked. “Your apology, I mean.”

“Yeah!” Juturna insisted. “I may be lazy and aimless and kind of stupid, but I would never intentionally get my family or Rutulian Security into any trouble, and the only reason why Turnus would ever get mad at me is if I caused or risked some kind of trouble, so I apologise and say I didn’t mean it, which I didn’t.”

“What if it isn’t your fault?”

“It’s always my fault,” Juturna said. “Like I said, Turnus wouldn’t get mad at me if it wasn’t.” Her eyebrows rose. “So, what did you do?”

“How do you know I did anything?” Ruby demanded.

Juturna smiled knowingly. “Okay, what is your sister mad at you about?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment.

“Come on!” Juturna urged. “Spill it!”

Ruby took a deep breath and let out an equally deep sigh. “I found out some stuff about our mom, stuff about her past, stuff that we didn’t know. And I kept it to myself, and I didn’t tell her about it.”

Juturna was silent for a moment. “Yeah, Ruby, I won’t lie to you, that sounds terrible, and you should totally apologise.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” Juturna said. “You knew she wanted to know, right?”

“I … yeah, yeah I did,” Ruby murmured.

“Yeah,” Juturna said, drawing out the word. “Your sister’s got a right to be mad at you.”

In general, moral disapproval bites more fiercely when coming from the morally upstanding, but there is a certain edge that occasionally comes from being judged by the … okay, Juturna wasn’t a bad person, but, like, Ruby was pretty sure that she was, as a general rule, a kinder and more considerate person than Juturna was. That made the fact that Juturna now possessed the moral high ground and was using it to look down on Ruby a particularly uncomfortable experience.

“Any tips for how I should say sorry?” Ruby asked. “I’ve already tried just saying sorry. It didn’t take.”

Juturna winced. “Give it some time, maybe. I don’t know. Like I said, Turnus is very quick to forgive me; they both are. I guess I’m really lucky that way.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, a slight smile upon her face. “Yeah, you really are.”

“Sorry I can’t be of much help,” Juturna said. “Oh! But hey, while you’re there, there’s something that I wanted to tell you: Turnus is coming to Vale in a few days, and he wants to meet you.”

“What?” Ruby asked. “Your brother’s coming here? Why? It’s not something to do with Pyrrha, is it?”

“No, it’s nothing like that; it’s work,” Juturna said. “Have you heard of the Heart of Mistral?”

“Sounds a bit like one of Pyrrha’s nicknames,” Ruby said.

Juturna laughed. “Yeah, I guess it does, doesn’t it?” she replied. “But no, it’s a ruby; it’s a really big, supposedly really beautiful ruby that they mined out from the mountain in the really old days. It belonged to the Emperor until he gave it away to his daughter on her wedding day. One of her descendants was wearing it when he was killed during the war, and one of you Valish took it off his body, and it’s been in your museums ever since. Only now, Vale has agreed to give it back — I think they’re getting a discount on the cost of those battleships you’re buying off us — and Lord Kiro has hired Rutulian Security to protect him while he goes and gets it. So, Turnus is going to be in Vale, and he wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends,” Juturna said. “And Turnus likes to get to know my friends.”

“And scare them?”

Juturna grinned. “Come on, Ruby, you’re a badass huntress; I’m sure you can handle it. Shall I tell him that you’re looking forward to it? Come on, what’s the harm in letting him take you to dinner?”

“Well … Pyrrha—”

“He is not going to say anything about Pyrrha or try to get you to do anything or … anything like that,” Juturna promised. “Turnus isn’t perfect, but on the whole, he’s a really great guy, and he wouldn’t do something like that. I promise.”

“Okay,” Ruby said. “In that case, sure. I’d love to meet him. I really would. I mean, you obviously think a lot of him. Yeah, tell him that I’m looking forward to it.”

Although I’m not sure Jaune and Pyrrha will be when they find out about it.

Back at Beacon (New)

Back at Beacon

“I wish your home got more visitors,” Sunset grumbled as the train rattled along on its way back to Vale.

Jaune frowned. “Why?”

“Because if it did, someone might invest in some upgrades to this rail line,” Sunset said sharply.

Kendal Arc chuckled. “One of my first assignments, I got a train to Alexandria, then I had to set off on foot from there to survey my target area. Anyway, the point is that when I got on that train … I was amazed. I couldn’t believe it. Electric doors, computerized seat reservations … I think, for me, that was what I understand going to Atlas is like for normal people.”

Sunset smirked a little as her eyebrows rose. “So, Jaune, you actually had a pretty restrained reaction to the wonders of the modern world, then?”

“I was impressed by the trains!” Kendal declared. “That doesn’t make some kind of hayseed.”

Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha, and Kendal were all sat together around a table in one of the train compartments that was bearing them back to Vale and — in the case of Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha at least — Beacon. The train rattled along, quite literally, jolting a little as it went, occasionally feeling as though it bumped over something.

The sooner they arrived and they could get off this deathtrap, the happier Sunset would be.

“Kendal,” Pyrrha said, “may I ask you something?”

Kendal shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Why did you choose to become a surveyor?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I suppose I’m just curious,” Pyrrha said. “I know why Jaune wanted to become a huntsman, but … as I say, it’s simple curiosity; you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not like it’s a big secret,” Kendal declared. “I just … wanted to help, really. I was always good at tracking, at map reading, I can move through the woods better than pretty much anyone in town; I like the outdoors, I like walking, and I thought, well, there must be a way that I can do all of that and do some good at the same time. Me, Jaune, even Sky … we’ve all found some way to help that plays to our strengths.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied. She smiled. “I hope that, once we’ve graduated, we can work together in some way.”

“I’d like that,” Kendal agreed. She grinned. “Just promise that you won’t get distracted by having a lovey-dovey moment and let me get eaten by a beowolf.”

Pyrrha’s cheeks reddened. “We would, of course, be thoroughly professional at all times,” she said.

“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Kendal assured her. “So, what’s on the agenda for you three when you get back?”

“Jaune needs to get down and think about his new weapon,” Sunset declared. While I need to find out what Crown D’Eath found. She had some ideas on that score already: Carrot Arc’s journal said that Crown had been spending a lot of time in the library, so if Sunset could find out what books he’d been looking at, then she, reading the same things that he had read, could hopefully reach the same conclusions, for good or ill.

Hopefully for good; it would give her something to pass on to Lady Nikos. If not…

Back to plan ‘Make Something Up’ I suppose.

At that moment, a scroll went off.

Sunset put her hand to her jacket pocket. Her scroll was still and silent. “Not mine,” she said.

“No, it’s mine,” Pyrrha said. She was back in her combat outfit for the journey back to Beacon, and she took the scroll from out of one of the pouches upon her belt. “It’s Mother.”

What does she want? Sunset thought, recognizing the thought and the accompanying feelings of weariness, wariness, and annoyance as ultimately belonging to Pyrrha, not to herself.

I wonder if Pyrrha can teach me how to eliminate these ghastly side-effects, Sunset thought. It would be a fine thing if she were to let Pyrrha’s hostility show and her benefactor should think her ungrateful or impertinent in any way.

She was not Pyrrha, after all; she was not afforded such leeway. She would have to keep her opinions — Pyrrha’s opinions — to herself.

Pyrrha answered the scroll. “Good afternoon, Mother.”

“Good morning, Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said in answer. “You appear to be moving.”

“I’m on a train home from Alba Longa, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “With Jaune and Sunset and Kendal Arc, one of Jaune’s sisters.”

“Good afternoon, my lady,” Sunset called out.

Jaune leaned a little closer to Pyrrha so that his face would be visible in the scroll. “Hello, ma— my lady.”

“Miss Shimmer, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos said. “And good day to you, unseen Miss Arc. I confess I do not know this Alba Longa of which you speak.”

“I don’t suppose you would have heard of it, my lady; it’s a very small town,” Jaune explained. “It’s where I grew up.”

“Ah, that explains a great deal,” Lady Nikos said. “Miss Shimmer, have you learned anything of note?”

Pyrrha turned her scroll around, so that Sunset could see the face of Lady Nikos looking out at her, and Lady Nikos could see her in turn.

“I am … on the trail, my lady,” Sunset replied. “I require more time.”

“'More time'?” Lady Nikos asked. “You have had time already.”

“I have had time, my lady; what I have not had previously is time to devote to this,” Sunset explained. “If my lady will indulge me … I confess I have nothing concrete as yet to offer you, but I feel that I am closing in on something.”

“Is that so?” Lady Nikos asked. “And on what, if I may ask, do you base this optimism?”

“I have a name, my lady,” Sunset said. “Crown D’Eath, a man who, like myself, delved into the history of the Arc family, and although I know not what he found, I do know that what he found caused him great excitement.” And great alarm in the then Arc, but let’s not mention that. “If I can discover what he did, I have every confidence that it will be to my lady’s liking.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “Very well; I suppose I have little to lose and much to gain. In any event, it is no longer the most urgent matter on my mind.”

“I imagine there must be many matters of weight and importance upon my lady’s mind at any one time,” Sunset observed.

“But this is particularly urgent, else I would not have called,” Lady Nikos said. “Pyrrha, I take it that — immured as you have been in a small town — you are not yet aware of the news.”

Pyrrha reversed her scroll again, so that once more, she was looking at her mother, whose face had disappeared from Sunset’s sight.

“News?” Pyrrha asked. “No, Mother, I have heard nothing.”

“The Daily Remnant libels you,” Lady Nikos declared. “I have already instructed a lawyer to sue that odious rag into the ground, but I fear that the proceedings will take some time, and in that time, their lies will spread like wildfire.”

Sunset and Jaune both got out their scrolls at the same time. Sunset opened up her device and began to tap tap on the touch screen, typing the words ‘Daily Remnant’ into the search engine. It wasn’t a name she was familiar with, and judging by Lady Nikos’ description of it as a rag, it didn’t seem to be a particularly notable publication.

“I don’t understand,” Pyrrha said. “All manner of untruths get printed about me all the time; you’ve never gone to law over it before.”

“You will see the difference when, if I am hearing right, Miss Shimmer and Mister Arc discover what it is that has been said about you now.

Sunset’s search had brought back a whole host of results. She typed ‘Daily Remnant Pyrrha Nikos’ into the search engine to narrow it down.

“What?” Jaune cried. “Are they serious?”

“If they are not serious, then more fool them; I will see them bankrupted regardless,” Lady Nikos growled.

Sunset’s eyes widened.

This … this is…

This is my fault.

“What is it?” Kendal asked, leaning over to look at Sunset’s scroll.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha asked, prompting Jaune to press his scroll against hers so that she could read what was being said and see her mother at the same time.

The headline read Pyrrha Nikos: The Champion of Evil? The subheading continued in that vein, posturing Could Mistral’s favourite daughter be in league with the enemies of humanity?

Below there was a picture of Pyrrha, with her back to the camera, her red sash turning into a trail of blood snaking behind her towards the readership.

“What are they talking about?” Kendal murmured.

Sunset skimmed over the article itself. She closed her eyes. “Cinder,” she murmured.

“Miss Shimmer?” Lady Nikos asked.

Sunset remained with her eyes closed, her elbows resting upon the table, her head bowed slightly. After a moment, she lowered her own scroll and gestured with her fingers for Pyrrha to flip hers so that she could talk to Lady Nikos again.

Pyrrha did so. The face of Lady Nikos seemed especially hard now, the lines deeper, her features sharper.

Whether that was the lingering effects of contact with Pyrrha upon her or Sunset’s own guilt, she did not know.

“My lady,” she said, “I am sorry to have besmirched your daughter’s reputation so.”

Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “Is there any truth to this, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset licked her lips. “When Cinder Fall was here — at Beacon, disguised as a student — we were friends, my lady, although she and Pyrrha were not.”

“Far from it,” Pyrrha murmured.

“And after?” Lady Nikos asked.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, whose mouth had seemed to shrink as it set into disapproval.

“Cinder … my lady, what I could tell is information I fear that cannot be revealed to you.”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?”

“There are things that are known only to the members of Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal, Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood,” Sunset said. “I trust Team Rosepetal, as I would hope that you trust all the members of Team Sapphire, and as for Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood … I would hope they would have more dignity than to go selling stories to the gutter press. What I will say, my lady, is that … is that Pyrrha considers Cinder Fall to be naught but our enemy, and I…”

I hold her responsible for my misdeeds.

“And I do likewise,” Sunset said.

Lady Nikos nodded. “Then it seems that there is little more to discuss upon the matter, and nothing to apologise for on your part, Miss Shimmer. I cannot say that I like the fact that there are details of which I must remain ignorant, but … I suppose it is an inevitable consequence of your service. In any case, I did not call in order to blame you, Miss Shimmer, but to put Pyrrha on her guard. Although it would do no harm if you were to remain on your guard also.”

“Is there anything that we can do, Mother?” Pyrrha asked, turning her scroll around once more.

“I fear not,” Lady Nikos said. “It may be that the threat of legal action will induce a retraction. If not, then it will move to the courts, but that may, as I have said, take time, and even when you win — I have, of course, had to threaten suit under your name, but rest assured, I will ensure that your education is not disrupted with court appearances — there is the unfortunate fact that people will remember what was written.”

“But no one will believe it,” Jaune said. “I mean it … it’s ridiculous!”

“Indeed, Mister Arc, and I have hope that the great mass of the people of Mistral will see this nonsense for what it is,” Lady Nikos replied. “However—”

“There are some who, if they do not believe it, will affect to do so merely so that they may delight in seeing me brought low,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It will take more than this to bring you low,” Sunset said.

“Well, yes, I suppose it will,” Pyrrha said, her voice almost as soft as it had been before. “But my point is … some will either believe it or pretend to do so.” She frowned. “Mother, if I have damaged the reputation of our house—”

“The reputation of our house has survived bad emperors who dealt with every obstacle with a mixture of violence and treachery; I daresay it can survive muck-raking journalism,” Lady Nikos said. “It was … your reputation with which I was more concerned. I am sorry that this has befallen you.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “For the warning and for your sympathies.”

“Good day then,” Lady Nikos said. “Good day to all of you, and good fortune.”

Pyrrha folded her scroll up.

“She didn’t ask how your visit went,” Kendal pointed out.

“No, she didn’t,” Pyrrha murmured. “I wouldn’t have expected her to, under any circumstances.”

“Right, because she doesn’t approve,” Kendal said. She hesitated for a moment, mouth open, no words emerging. “Cinder Fall … is she the one you fought?”

Pyrrha looked at her. “What makes you ask that?”

“Something about your face,” Kendal replied. “Your expression when you talked about her.”

Pyrrha sighed, her chest rising and falling. “Yes. Yes, she is the one.”

Kendal winced. “This must be especially galling then.”

“Somewhat,” Pyrrha said mildly.

“So … what are you going to do?”

“I … I am not sure, not yet,” Pyrrha said. “I require a little time to think upon a solution.”

“Could you not even try and find out where they came from?” Kendal asked. “I mean, somebody wrote this story; I find it hard to imagine anyone just deciding to sit down and write out a pack of lies — and then someone else decided to publish it — for no reason.”

“People knew that Cinder and I were close; we didn’t hide it,” Sunset said. “Although whether any of them would have connections to the Mistralian press is less certain. In any case, we have other things to do rather than trying to find the source of this story. Jaune needs to design a weapon, I need to … well, for either Pyrrha or myself, hunting after tattletales isn’t likely to prove anything.”

Any sort of revenge would hardly scream innocence, after all.

Although, speaking of revenge … Bon Bon might see this as turnaround being fair play after the way that Sunset had treated her and Cardin.

Cardin she did not suspect, but Bon Bon … she had cause to hate Sunset, and to at least some extent, she did hate Sunset, at least enough to knock one of her teeth out.

Yet, if Sunset found out that she had done it … then what? What could Sunset do about it? What would Sunset do about it?

I … I would do nothing. I would not make any further trouble for Pyrrha or her reputation.

And Bon Bon … Bon Bon has a right to her wrath, for all that she has aimed at the wrong target.

“I don’t envy you,” Kendal said. “Are you going to be okay, Jaune?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Jaune assured her. “By the sounds of it, it isn’t me that they’re going after.” He put his scroll away, and thereafter put his hands around Pyrrha’s shoulders. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I have little choice,” Pyrrha said, turning her face towards him. “And I trust, I hope, that most people will see this for what it is: nothing but a pack of lies.”

They arrived back in Vale not long after, having survived the journey on this rickety old train to pull in at Gateway Station. The train shuddered and groaned and sounded as if it was about to have a heart attack, keel over, and die on the verge of the finish line, but it managed to make it all the way in, and when it came to a stop, it did at least seem as though it had stopped voluntarily and not because the engine had given out.

“It doesn’t look as though we have a reception committee,” Sunset said as she looked out of the window.

“Well, we didn’t even tell Ruby that we were coming back,” Pyrrha pointed out. “How would anyone know that we were on this train?”

“That’s a good point,” Sunset allowed. “And for that reason, I think we should hold off on calling Ruby until we’re at the airship back to Beacon.” She reached her arm out of the window and tried to open the door.

It was stuck again.

Sunset huffed. “I hate that you live on this railway line,” she told Jaune.

“Here, let me,” Pyrrha said, raising her hand towards the door.

There was a click, and the handle turned in Sunset’s hand, and the door swung open.

“Neat trick,” Kendal said. “I don’t understand it, but it’s a neat trick all the same.”

“It’s my semblance,” Pyrrha explained. “Although I’d be grateful if you didn’t spread the word around; I like to keep it a secret.”

“Well, if it’s a secret, then it’s safe with me,” Kendal said with a smile on her face.

They all dismounted from the train, now that the door was open, carrying their bags and cases down with them. They moved the platform exit, clearing a space for the impatient people waiting on the platform to pile onto the rickety old train, although if they actually got anywhere, it would be a miracle in Sunset’s opinion.

They exited the platform onto the main station concourse, standing under a great glass skylight some fifty feet or more above their heads, letting in the sunlight to shine brightly and a little warmly down upon them. Before them stood a great crowd of people, their eyes fixed upon the electronic board denoting the departures of the various trains — what platform they had been assigned, was it ready to board. It was like watching birds, a great flock of birds whose heads turned almost as one, looking first to the left and then to the right, moving along to scan each train upon the board in turn. Every so often, a platform would be announced, and a part of the flock would break off and move in a great flood, as if driven by a single mind, towards the platform.

Shops — newsagents, fast food outlets, cake shops, bookshops — surrounded them; some were more like stalls, with queues of people snaking backwards from the counter; others were more conventional, and Sunset could see men and women darting in and out the doors.

Kendal put down her hold-all bag. “Headquarters is the other way from the Skydock, so I think this is goodbye.” She held out her hand to Sunset. “It was nice to meet you, Sunset Shimmer, if only briefly.”

Sunset took her hand, shaking it quickly. “Nice to meet you too.”

Kendal nodded. “And it was … it was definitely nice to meet you, Pyrrha.”

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to hold out her hand to Pyrrha, but in the end, she lunged for her instead, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha’s neck for all that she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to manage.

After a moment, Kendal held out one arm, gesturing with her hand. “Come here, Jaune.”

Jaune grinned as he stepped forward, allowing Kendal to wrap her arm around him and pull him inwards. Jaune put one arm around Kendal in turn, and Pyrrha did likewise, their two hands meeting upon Kendal’s back.

“You take care,” Kendal said. “You take care of … of one another, okay? Don’t lose each other.”

“We will,” Jaune promised.

“Always,” Pyrrha added.

Kendal was smiling as she released them, but the fact that she looked as though her eyes were about to start watering could not but lend that smile a sad and melancholy aspect.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you will. You’d better.”

“And you take care too, out there,” Jaune added.

Kendal picked up her bag. “I’ll be fine, Jaune,” she said. “I get to run away from danger.” She turned away and set off on her own journey, in her own direction. When she had taken about a half dozen steps, she turned back with a wave, calling out to them, “And good luck in the Vytal Festival!”

Ruby was waiting for them at the docking pad as the Skybus landed at Beacon. So, too, was Arslan. Ruby was smiling, but Arslan’s expression was grim, and Pyrrha thought she could guess why.

Ruby waved to them as they stepped out of the Skybus. “Hey guys!” she cried. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was very lovely, thank you for asking,” Pyrrha said as she walked towards the two of them.

“Apart from the way that Jaune’s brother-in-law tried to make it look like Pyrrha was cheating on Jaune,” Sunset said.

“What?!” Ruby exclaimed.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully, “I wasn’t going to mention that.”

“Why not? It was hilarious,” Sunset said. “We don’t get to see that savage side of you often enough.”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “'Savage side'?”

“I thought she was going to break the guy’s arm at one point,” Sunset said eagerly.

“Sunset, please,” Pyrrha murmured. “I’d rather that you didn’t recount it at all, and if you must, can you do it without sounding quite so gleeful upon the subject?”

“You’re the one who did it,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know,” Pyrrha admitted. “And I was very angry at the time; that does not mean that I wish it to become part of my…” — she searched for a less vain-sounding word than ‘image,’ but could not find one — “my reputation.”

“Even if you had broken his arm, it’s more restrained than some in Mistral would have been in the circumstances,” Arslan observed. “I mean, I’d have knocked a few of his teeth out at the very least.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Pyrrha replied. “Duelling is one thing, but duels are fought between, if not equals, then at least between those who know what they are doing. A duel between a skilled combatant and someone off the street, their aura unactivated, no training, that would be counted as murder — and rightly so.” She paused for a moment. “I was … angry. Jaune is…” Jaune is the best thing that has ever been mine. Jaune makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Jaune is the … Jaune is the only unalloyed good in my life. “But it would have been mere bullying to have hurt a civilian, given what I am, and I do not wish to sink so low.”

“Please tell me you did something,” Arslan said. “That sort of thing can’t be allowed.”

“His wife is divorcing him, his in-laws all know that he’s a liar and a cheat in every sense, and so does the rest of the town after I frogmarched him round it and made him confess to everybody,” Sunset said.

Arslan nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like punishment enough, I must say.”

Ruby frowned. “But why would Jaune’s brother-in-law want to do that to you in the first place?”

“Because Ruben is … a jackass,” Jaune said, a sigh in his voice. “And he always has been; it just took this for people to stop making excuses for him.”

“If everyone else wouldn’t mind,” Pyrrha said, “I’d rather not dwell on this particular aspect of our trip, especially when the rest of it was … very pleasant in parts.”

“I wish that we could talk about pleasant things only,” Arslan muttered, “but the Daily—”

“I’m aware,” Pyrrha said. “My mother called when we were on the train. But thank you for coming down to let me know.”

“Arslan showed me what they were saying,” Ruby said. “Who’d come up with something like that?”

“I told you, it’s Phoebe,” Arslan said.

“Phoebe?” Pyrrha repeated. “But why?”

“Because she’s out to get you, that’s why,” Arslan replied. “And she was in a particularly foul mood right before this bilge got published, as I told Ruby and Sunset at the time. She knows that she can’t beat you in the ring, so she’s going to try and destroy your reputation.”

“I’m well aware that she dislikes me, but still,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s a serious accusation to make without proof.”

“I have proof,” Arslan declared. “The Daily Remnant always soft-soaps Phoebe; if you look at their coverage of the start of the Tournament season, you’ll always find that they rate Phoebe higher than any other publication does. Seriously, have you not noticed that? Do you not read the pre-season coverage?”

“No,” said Pyrrha.

Arslan rolled her eyes. “It must be nice to know you’re always going to win, no matter who you might be up against.”

“That isn’t—”

“I know, I know,” Arslan said. “But still: I’m right about this.”

“That is hardly proof,” Pyrrha pointed out. “In any case, it hardly matters.”

“Why not, of course it matters!” Arslan retorted. “Don’t tell me that you’re going to take this lying down?”

“My mother is suing the Daily Remnant,” Pyrrha informed her, “but apart from that … I’m not yet sure if there is anything that can be done.”

“There must be something,” Arslan said. “This kind of thing shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Well, perhaps it will come to me.” Pyrrha frowned slightly. “How … how is … how are the other Haven students … do they believe it?”

“I haven’t spoken to all of them,” Arslan said. “Bolin, unfortunately, believes it, but Reese and Nadir don’t; I’ve heard Cicero speaking up for you, so that’s good; Cephalus believes it, but I’m not surprised there; he’d believe anything that made a woman look bad, and in any case, Meleager got into a fight with him about it, so that makes it even.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “Meleager?” Meleager had once tried to poison her when they were children; she was surprised that he would take her side in this.

Arslan nodded. “Saw it with my own eyes. Your Professor Goodwitch had to arrive to break it up. She had some rather harsh words for the rest of us on nobody having tried to break it up ourselves, but she is from Vale, I suppose; she doesn’t understand our Mistralian ways.”

“There was a fight in the cafeteria this morning,” Ruby agreed. “Though I don’t know that you all should have let it go on like you did.”

“It was a battle of honour.”

“You all formed a ring and started chanting their names.”

“I don’t see how that in any way contradicts what I just said,” Arslan replied. “And of course, Sun and Neptune believe you, but I’m not so sure about their teammates. Overall, I’d say most people — the ones with sense — see this for what it is. That and … well, it was bad enough that there was an ally of the White Fang wearing our colours for the best part of a year, stains the whole reputation of Haven. If Mistral’s brightest star was also a traitor … nobody really wants that for Mistral.” She grinned. “Nobody who's put their hopes on you wants to feel like they’ve been taken for a sucker, P-money.”

“That isn’t particularly reassuring,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s better than the alternative, right?” Arslan asked. “Anyway, you know what’s up, so I’ll let you guys catch up. See you around!” She turned her back on them but waved behind her as she sloped off in the direction of the school.

“Thank you!” Pyrrha called after her.

“Okay, I want to hear everything about what happened, all of the good stuff!” Ruby insisted. “But, also, I have some things to tell you as well … although they should probably wait until we get back to the dorm room.”

“Then let us go there, as swiftly as we may,” Pyrrha said.

They did, in fact, return to the dorm rooms quickly; nobody tried to hinder them upon their way there, although a few students did stare at them as they walked down the path that led to the courtyard, and thence across the courtyards into the dorm itself. The corridor that led to their dorm room was quiet; nobody had graffitied their door, thankfully, and nobody from Team YRBN came out to welcome them back — or do anything else for that matter.

And yet, as they approached, Ruby cast a glance towards the door, as if she was expecting, or hoping for, someone to emerge.

Nevertheless, nobody did, and Team SAPR returned to their own room, Sunset — the last one in — closing the door behind them.

Pyrrha put her cases down at the foot of her bed, but for the moment made no move to begin unpacking them.

“So, Ruby,” she said, “what have we missed while we’ve been away?”

“Oh, no,” Ruby said, sitting down on her own bed with her legs crossed. “You first; like I said, I want to hear everything.”

Pyrrha laughed lightly. “There isn’t really that much to tell, honestly. It was … it was very wonderful.”

“Not all the time,” Jaune admitted.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s true,” Jaune said; he walked around her bed, avoiding her cases on the way, and sat down there, facing Ruby. “Not all of the things that I was worried about came true — my Dad was pretty sanguine about the whole ‘breaking Crocea Mors’ situation, and of course, like you said, Pyrrha wasn’t interested in any of the village guys—”

“It will never cease to amaze me that you thought she might be,” Sunset said.

“That was pretty dumb,” Ruby agreed.

“I know!” Jaune yelped. “You don’t all have to remind me!”

“And yet, when the moment came, you did not doubt me,” Pyrrha said, sitting down and placing a hand around his shoulders, her fingers resting gently upon his neck. “That counts for far, far more than all your fears before your going, however irrational those fears might be.”

“So what happened?” Ruby asked. “I mean, you said some of the things that you were afraid of happened.”

“Not all of my family liked Pyrrha, at first,” Jaune admitted. “Less because of Pyrrha than because of … what she represented, I guess. They didn’t want me to come back to Beacon. They wanted me to stay home and send Pyrrha away.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, of course not,” Jaune said. “I couldn’t leave Pyrrha, and I couldn’t not come back. Luckily, it didn’t take long for most people to come around … to Pyrrha, and to me becoming a huntsman.”

Ruby nodded. “How did you convince them?”

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha, who said, “We were able to be of some assistance during a grimm attack.”

Ruby gasped. “Was everyone okay?”

“Thankfully, yeah,” Jaune said. “One of my sisters was hurt, but I was able to heal her, and the grimm was killed before it could do too much damage. But it helped my family to see that what I’m doing is worthwhile.”

“But what if more grimm show up?” asked Ruby.

“Sky — one of my sisters, the Sheriff of Alba Longa — is hiring a huntsman to protect the village and recommend any security measures,” Jaune said.

“Oh, okay,” Ruby said. “That’s good. That’s probably the best thing, short of getting a huntsman to stay permanently.”

“I’m not sure that Sky could afford that,” Jaune said.

“But if your village is a nice place, maybe they’ll want to stay and settle down,” Ruby suggested. “Dad says that’s how half the villages in Remnant end up being protected: they can’t afford huntsmen to stick around, but the huntsmen fall in love with these quiet places — and sometimes, they just fall in love — and end up making their homes there.”

“Until they have to go on other jobs,” Sunset said. “It’s all very well to fall in love with a place and make it your home, but that attitude doesn’t pay the bills.”

“I guess not,” Ruby agreed. “So is that when you won them over? What about after that?”

“Unfortunately, we never won over Jaune’s brother-in-law, Ruben,” Pyrrha murmured. “But, yes, other than that, most of the family became much more welcoming — where they hadn’t been already; Kendal welcomed me with open arms from the very beginning — and that is when I found out that Jaune is an uncle.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Really? You’re Uncle Jaune.”

“Yep, I’ve got a nephew named Adrian,” Jaune said, getting out his scroll. “I think I’ve got some pictures here that Saphron sent me.”

“He’s a very adorable young man,” Pyrrha said. She smiled. “We got to babysit him.”

“Aww!” Ruby cooed. “I bet that was awesome.”

“Oh, it was lovely,” Pyrrha said.

Jaune flicked through the photos on his scroll. “Here he is: Adrian Cotta-Arc, and his other mommy, Terra Cotta.”

He held out his scroll, containing a picture of Adrian, held in Terra’s arms, smiling for the camera.

Ruby’s eyes got even bigger as she looked at the picture. “Oooh! You’re right; he is adorable! Look at those chubby cheeks! Look at that smile!”

“Hey, Sunset,” Jaune said, “don’t you want to look?”

Sunset put her hands on her hips and pointedly looked away. “No.”

Jaune’s face fell a little. “Why not?”

“Because I have no interest in children,” Sunset said, still not looking at Jaune or at the picture. “The infants of your species cannot measure up to the cuteness of my own people at that age.” She glanced at the picture of Adrian. “Although … okay, that’s a pretty cute kid.”

“I don’t think I want any children of my own,” Ruby said, “but I hope that Yang has at least one, because I’d love to be Aunt Ruby to someone: baker of cookies and slayer of monsters!”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “You’re very young to decide that you don’t want children of your own.”

Ruby shrugged. “It’s just not something … I don’t see it. Dad’s life, Mom’s life, a house and a family … that’s not for me.”

“Is that because you don’t want it?” Sunset asked. “Or because you don’t expect to have it?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “Maybe … maybe I just don’t want to leave an orphan behind, without a mom.”

“That’s fair enough,” Jaune said. “My Dad quit because of that, but … but you’re not really the quitting type, are you?”

Ruby chuckled. “No. At least I hope not.”

“It’s your choice, of course,” Sunset said. “But, considering that you’re the only person we know about with silver eyes, and considering that it seems to be passed on through bloodline … some might argue that you have a responsibility to Remnant to continue that line.”

“Is that what you’re arguing?” Pyrrha asked, her voice sharpening ever so slightly.

Sunset licked her lips. “I … bloodlines are important, especially when there are magic powers attached,” she said. “But, as I say, it’s Ruby’s choice. It’s just something that you should be aware of when you make that choice.”

“I guess,” Ruby murmured. “That’s just … that’s where I am right now: I like kids, but I wouldn’t like to raise one myself. Anyway, what else happened with you two?”

“We danced at Jaune’s father’s birthday party,” Pyrrha said, leaning upon Jaune, “and they even asked me to be in the family photograph.”

Ruby clasped her hands together above her heart. “Oh, I bet you were thrilled about that!”

“I was, believe me,” Pyrrha agreed. “It was … as I say, it was wonderful.”

“It was good,” Jaune agreed. “I got to clear the air with my Dad, with Mom, I got to leave again on good terms with my sisters … and Ruben’s out of Rouge’s life, so we even got to leave the rest of the family better off than they were before. So, all in all, it was a pretty good trip.”

Ruby nodded. “And what about you, Sunset, did you find out anything about Jaune’s family? Is he a lord? Is he a prince?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I think he’s something,” Sunset said. “I’m not the first person to look into this, and though I don’t know what they found yet, I know that they found something. So I’m going to try and retrace their steps … after you tell us what’s been going on with you while we were all away.”

Ruby’s face fell. “Right. Yeah.” She took a deep breath, then swallowed. Then she breathed in again, as deeply as before. “Raven paid a visit last night.”

There was a moment of silence from Pyrrha and the others.

Sunset said, “When you say ‘paid a visit’…?”

“She was here,” Ruby said. “In this room. I’d been out with Team Iron — except for Blake, and by the way, everyone in Vale seemed really cranky about something. People were attacking faunus and the Atlesians, and it was really, really weird. Anyway, we got back, and … there she was, Raven, in this room, waiting for us.”

“What did she want?” asked Pyrrha.

“To talk,” Ruby said. “She was … disappointed that I was working for Professor Ozpin, disappointed that I hadn’t told Yang about Salem — Sunset, how could you have told Yang about Salem?”

“You told Yang?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Although I’m not sure how Raven found that out.”

“She didn’t; Yang just told us then,” Ruby explained. “But still … why?”

“Because she was upset with you and didn’t get why you were acting the way you were,” Sunset said. “I thought I was doing you a favour.”

“But we weren’t supposed to tell,” Ruby said. “Professor Ozpin—”

“I didn’t trust Professor Ozpin at that time, so his commandments lay not heavily upon my shoulders,” Sunset replied. “Now … in the same position now, I might think more carefully before I told Yang aught, but it’s a bit late for such considerations now; I’ve told her. I’ve told her, and I don’t know any spells to wipe her memory. Not that I would, by the way.”

“Now Yang’s mad at me,” Ruby murmured. “Not just, or even not mostly, because of the Salem stuff, but … I didn’t tell her about anything Professor Ozpin had told me about Mom either.”

“Ruby,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully.

“I know, I know,” Ruby muttered.

“You told me, but you didn’t tell Yang?”

“I know!” Ruby yelled. “You don’t have to rub it in.” She sighed. “What am I going to do?”

“I will talk to Yang, if you wish,” Pyrrha suggested. “I will try and persuade her that you meant no harm and that you do not deserve to be punished for your mistake.”

Ruby looked up at Pyrrha. “Would you? Really?”

“I will try,” Pyrrha said. She wasn’t certain that she was the best person to undertake this task, but Sunset had already spoken to Yang about this, and that decision had brought about this present state of affairs. Perhaps Pyrrha could offer a different perspective.

“Thank you,” Ruby said softly.

“Thank me after I have accomplished something,” Pyrrha said.

“What else did Raven say?” asked Jaune.

“She warned us not to trust Professor Ozpin,” Ruby said. “And something about the Four Maidens, something that he wasn’t telling us … but then Professor Goodwitch came in before she could explain what she meant. Raven … left. And then Professor Goodwitch took Yang away to talk to her on her own, and she didn’t explain anything either.”

“Not surprising, considering that it’s something Professor Ozpin does not wish us to know,” Sunset murmured. She folded her arms. “Four Maidens. It must be connected to Auburn and Merida, to the women that I read about in the books Twilight gave me. Not prophets, not saints, but … Maidens, apparently. Not the best name ever, but okay.”

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune. “Do you think … do you think it could also be connected to the Story of the Seasons?”

“The … that’s a fairy tale, isn’t it?” Sunset asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “It’s in the book for Doctor Oobleck’s class.”

“That’s how I know the name, but I don’t recall the details,” Sunset replied. “It wasn’t one of my favourites.”

“Pyrrha tells it very well,” Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha chuckled softly. “Thank you, Jaune, but I’m not sure that Sunset wants to be put to sleep the way that Adrian did. But the shorter version is that, once upon a time, a reclusive old man, dwelling alone in a little cottage, was visited by four travelling sisters. The first shared his desire for solitude and urged him to use his time to meditate; the second tended to his garden and brought forth fruits and flowers form it which she gifted to the old man; the third warmed his heart and convinced him to step outside and experience the world beyond his cottage; and the fourth begs him to be thankful for all that he has and all that he has been given. In gratitude, the old man granted the sisters incredible power, and they promised to use that power to help the people of Remnant until the end of days. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall: the four seasons.”

“Or the Four Maidens,” Ruby pointed out.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha said. “I think Jaune was about to suggest as much back at his family home, but it didn’t seem the time for such a discussion.” She looked at him. “I think the time has come now.”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Jaune said. “Professor Ozpin told us that there were only two gods, and they both left ages ago, so the idea of these gods of Vale or Mistral choosing women and bestowing power on them doesn’t make much sense, except that there are so many stories and so widespread — and Twilight says that she saw one — that it seems like they can’t just be myths that someone made up.”

“Because why would so many people make up the same thing,” Sunset said.

“Exactly,” said Jaune. “But what if the fairy tale is the real story of how these four, Four Maidens, started? What if an old man gave them their powers, and then those same powers have stuck around all this time, passing from person to person by … I don’t know how.”

“No, I can’t work that part out either,” Sunset agreed. “It seems as if you can get the powers by killing the previous … previous Maiden, which is all kinds of messed up and a terrible way to organise things, but other than that … it seems to be random. Which is also ridiculous.”

“What would be a better way to organise it?” Ruby asked.

“Through accomplishment, obviously!” Sunset declared. “We Equestrians know a thing or two about magically empowering talented individuals, and let me tell you that Alicornhood doesn’t grow on trees, and you certainly can’t get it by murdering another alicorn. You have to accomplish something, you have to achieve something, you have to at least start making Equestria an even better place than you found it, and then you get the power to keep doing that but better. Now, the old man made a good start in that regard, by giving his power to four women who didn’t really need it—”

“If they didn’t really need it, then what was the point in giving them the power in the first place?” Ruby asked.

“That,” Sunset said. “That … is not a terrible question—”

“As a reward for their virtue, as the tale describes,” Pyrrha said. “They proved themselves to the old man; they showed that they were worthy and willing to help the people of Remnant.”

“But did they need magic to do that?” asked Ruby. “I mean, they didn’t need it to help the old man in the first place; they helped him by being kind and generous and thoughtful. How were magic powers supposed to make them more of any of those things?”

“To protect them?” Jaune suggested. “It’s always been a scary world; maybe the old man was afraid that four women travelling alone, or even together, would be at risk from the grimm. Maybe the magic was supposed to protect them so that they could keep helping others? Or maybe it was less for them and more to mark those who came after?”

“So it was always about passing the magic on?” Sunset said. “But then we come back to the fact that it’s an awful method of transferring power that encourages the very worst people whom you would least want to have that sort of power. Where is the test to prove worthiness? Princess Twilight of my home didn’t simply wake up with wings one day; she had to … to make friends and learn lessons and finish the incomplete masterwork left to us by Starswirl the Bearded, the greatest wizard in our history. This power of these Maidens … it can fall to anyone.”

“When put so, it does sound … less than ideal,” Pyrrha conceded. “But perhaps it was unavoidable. Who is to say that anyone made a conscious choice in deciding how these powers, the powers of the Maidens, were passed on?”

“Perhaps, but even so,” Sunset said. “And for that matter, where did this old man get the power to bestow upon the Maidens from in the first place?”

“Does that matter?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset paused for a second. “Probably not,” she admitted. “But I’d like to know regardless.”

“In any case,” Pyrrha said, “it seems clear now what happened: the old man, whoever he was, bestowed his power upon the Four Maidens, just as the fairy tale declared.”

“And for a while, this system worked as it was intended to do,” Sunset continued. “As the power was passed from Maiden to Maiden, someone, another Old Man, possibly Professor Ozpin’s predecessor as head of this circle, found them and trained them and then sent them out into the world when they were ready.”

“To continue the mission of the original four sisters,” Pyrrha said.

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Until the Dark Mother—”

“Salem,” Ruby said.

“We can probably assume that, yes,” Pyrrha murmured.

“She puts the idea into someone’s head to kill one of the Maidens and take her power, which she did,” Sunset said.

“And then took over Mistral, defeating my ancestor in battle and forcing her husband to send their child into hiding,” Pyrrha added.

“And before too long, all of the Maidens have been hunted down and killed by those who desire their power and proceed to abuse it relentlessly,” Sunset said. “Until at last, someone else, who is probably again Professor Ozpin’s predecessor, gathers a group much like ourselves, hunts down the bad Maidens, kills all of them, at which point, apparently, the powers vanish.”

“But they didn’t,” Jaune said. “They’re still here, to this day. Just hidden.”

Sunset nodded. “From what happened with Auburn and Merida, we can guess that Professor Ozpin’s predecessors, down to Professor Ozpin himself, are keeping an eye on the Maidens but keeping them secret, lest they be attacked as they were before.” She paused. “I disagree with this, by the way.”

“Disagree with what?” Pyrrha asked.

“With hiding the Maidens,” Sunset said. “They should be out there, spreading … harmony or whatever, just as they were meant to do, just as they were empowered to do.”

“But you know why that isn’t possible,” Pyrrha said. “Wicked people would hunt them down for their power. Salem would do so if she could, no doubt. Don’t you think that Cinder or those like her would leap at the chance to become so powerful?”

“I think Cinder would find no joy in a victory won through overwhelming power rather than skill and cunning,” Sunset said. “It would prove nothing in her eyes, and she craves to prove her superiority over you more than anything else.”

I fear she may have done so already. “That is a very … generous assessment of her nature, Sunset, but I wasn’t simply referring to myself, but rather more generally, and even if you are correct, then what of others, what if Salem has other servants besides Cinder? The risk—”

“Is extant, I admit, but can be managed in other respects,” Sunset said. “Guards, for instance.”

“What do you have against this approach?” asked Pyrrha.

“It is robbery,” Sunset declared. “It steals from all the people of Remnant who deserve to see magic, to see power, and … and to marvel at it, to bask in its glory, to stand in its light, be themselves illuminated, to have the shadows banished from them. As I said, my people are no strangers to the idea of granting magical power as a form of inspiration. These women should serve as paragons of their kind, models of the cardinal virtues of the human race, inspiring others to follow in their footsteps—”

“None of that needs magic,” Ruby said. “You don’t need magical powers to be inspiring; you don’t need to be able to wield enormous power to be such a good person that you inspire others to be better. None of that takes power; it just takes … it takes goodness. Power doesn’t inspire people—”

“Does it not?” Sunset asked. “Does it not make them braver, more sure of themselves—?”

“There are other ways,” Ruby insisted. “The ways that the original four sisters had of inspiring the old man without any magical power! Anyone can do that, right now, today, in Vale or Atlas or Mistral. Blake is doing that right now; she’s inspired Rainbow Dash to be so much better than she was before, and I think she’ll inspire others just the same in the days and years to come. But if Blake is killed—”

“The only thing that is lost is her example,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You say that like it is nothing,” Sunset said.

“Then I spoke poorly, for I did not mean it so,” Pyrrha replied. “Blake’s spirit is … incomparable, and her loss would be felt grievously amongst those who loved her, and even amongst those who only knew her. But it would not alter the balance of power the way that the power of the Maidens falling into the hands of Salem would.”

“Hmm,” Sunset mused. “I still think it’s worth the risk.”

“It doesn’t really matter what we think, does it?” Jaune asked. “The question is, what do we do now?”

“We should speak to Professor Ozpin and ask him these things directly,” Pyrrha said. “He can tell us if our conclusions are correct or no.”

“Perhaps he could, but will he?” replied Jaune. “I mean, he didn’t tell us this stuff in the first place; he doesn’t want us to know … what if he fobs us off, lies, refuses to talk about it?”

“Then we must accept that and accept that there are reasons to keep us ignorant,” Pyrrha said. “But it is always possible that, faced with the knowledge we have already, he will decide to tell us what he did not before, and we will learn what is truth and what is speculation.”

“I … I guess it’s worth a shot,” Jaune agreed.

“I’d like to know, if we can,” Ruby said.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked, twisting her body to look at their leader.

Sunset folded her arms, and for a moment was silent. She glanced away from the rest of them, and her tail began to swish backwards and forwards. “I think,” she said. “I think that … yes. Yes, we will go to Professor Ozpin, and we won’t take no for an answer.”

“That isn’t entirely what I had in—”

“Professor Ozpin once told me that he liked Raven because she pushed back on him,” Sunset informed them all. “So, if he will not tell us, that is what we will do: we shall push back, and I shall remind him that he encouraged me to do so. And that will serve him right.”

Ruby snorted. Pyrrha … did not, although she had to admit that she could see the amusing side of it. Still, she very much hoped that it would not become necessary. Encouraged or not, the idea of pushing back at Professor Ozpin could not help but seem a little impertinent.

“Shall we go now?” she asked.

Sunset shook her head. “This evening, perhaps. It can wait, and we have other things to do. You need to—”

“Oh, wait a second,” Ruby said, raising her hand. “There’s one more thing that I need to tell you.” She cleared her throat. “I called Juturna last night, to get some advice about Yang, and she told me that her brother is … coming to Vale in the next few days.”

“Turnus is coming to Vale?” Pyrrha asked. She blinked rapidly. “That is … why?”

“He’s providing security for some guy who's coming to collect something called the Heart of Mistral,” Ruby said.

“Sounds important,” Jaune said.

“It is a gem, nothing more,” Pyrrha said, “although it is a large, valuable, and finely cut and decorated one. It was lost to Mistral in the Great War, and its return has been a bone of contention with Vale ever since.”

“From what Juturna said, it sounds as though Vale is so desperate for Mistralian help that they’re willing to give it back,” Ruby said.

“Well done, Mistralian negotiators,” Pyrrha said softly. “But all the same, why does Turnus have to come here?”

“Juturna said that he wasn’t going to do anything about … about you, you know,” Ruby said. “Although … he does want to have dinner with me. Apparently, he wants to get to know me, since I’m Juturna’s friend. If you don’t want me to go—”

“No, I would never ask you to stay away on my account,” Pyrrha said quickly. “To do so would offend Turnus' pride, and I would never advise you to do that. Besides, he is a wealthy and powerful man and will be a useful connection to you once you graduate.”

Ruby blinked. “Why would I need one of those?”

“It is never a bad thing to possess such,” Pyrrha said, “and as you cannot say what road you will wish to walk, or be forced to walk, after graduation, I would advise you not to turn down any chance of this nature. Go and have fun.” She paused. “I only wish that I could be sure that he would not find time for any other such activities while he is here in the city.”

“I can understand that he isn’t happy about the whole … you two,” Sunset said. “But what’s the worst that he can do about it?”

“I … I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. This was Vale, not Mistral, after all; duelling was illegal here, and had been since before the Great War; Turnus could not simply contrive an excuse to fight Jaune, kill him, and then walk away unscathed and untouchable.

That did not mean that he was powerless and unable to do anything. And she was not willing to place all her trust in Juturna’s word.

“I do not know,” she repeated. “And yet, I have my fears regardless.”

“Might it reduce your fears if Jaune were armed?” Sunset asked. “Jaune, stay here and start brainstorming a new weapon. Ruby, help him out; I expect some preliminary sketches by dinnertime. Pyrrha, go and speak to Yang on Ruby’s behalf. And I will go to the library and see what I can find out about the Arcs, and then we will all meet back up and after dinner decide if we wish to or can see Professor Ozpin. Does that sound like a plan? Good, go to it then.” She turned and strode towards the door.

“Good luck,” Pyrrha murmured, giving Jaune a kiss on the cheek before she, too, rose and headed towards the door.

She left, and lacking any better idea of where to begin, she crossed the hallway and knocked gently upon the door of Team YRBN’s room.

Nora opened the door very swiftly. “Hey, Pyrrha, welcome back,” she said.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, it was very nice; Jaune’s family were … most welcoming,” Pyrrha said, which was mostly true, as true as she wanted to be with Nora, who no doubt had no real desire to hear all about the ups and downs of the visit.

Nora nodded. “I’m glad,” she said. “You two make a really cute couple, you know. It’s nice to know that there are some guys out there getting it right.”

Pyrrha blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“So,” Nora said quickly, “what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if Yang was in,” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Nora said. “Yang’s not here; it’s just me and Ren.” She paused for a moment. “Is this about Ruby?”

Pyrrha sighed. “What do you know?”

“I know that what Ruby did was pretty low if you ask me,” Nora declared. “She was Yang’s mother too, you know.”

“I’m sure that it must have seemed very harsh to Yang,” Pyrrha said. “But Ruby is contrite—”

“Not enough to apologise herself,” Nora pointed out.

“That’s not fair, Nora; I volunteered to speak to Yang,” Pyrrha pointed out. “I hope that, without being involved, I can … speak more clearly. Do you know where Yang is?”

“You might find her out by the cliffs,” Ren said, appearing to stand behind Nora. “She said that she was going for a walk around the grounds; I think that’s where she’ll likely end up.”

“Ren,” Nora murmured.

“Were you going to not tell her?” Ren asked. “Isn’t it better that Yang and Ruby make up as quickly as possible? You know that this is upsetting Yang as much as Ruby.”

“I also know that Ruby is the one who needs to apologise,” Nora pointed out.

“That’s for Yang to decide,” Ren said, gently but firmly.

“The cliffs, then?” Pyrrha said. “Thank you.” She turned to go.

“Pyrrha,” Ren called out to her before she could go too far down the corridor. “We … believe in you.”

Pyrrha half turned back towards them, the toes of her boots spinning upon the carpet. “You mean … this article that’s been written about me?”

Ren nodded. “Your reputation … it meant little to us when we came to Beacon. We have not … our lifestyle hasn’t given us a great familiarity with Mistralian culture. But you have shown your quality this past year. No one who is what they say you are could have done what you have done.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “That … means more to me than any expression of blind faith ever could. Once more, I thank you.”

The smile remained on her face as she walked down the corridor and began to descend the stairs leading out of the dorm room; let Phoebe, or whoever it might be, print what they liked about her: those who judged her by her deeds would … well, they would judge her by her deeds.

She walked briskly down the last flight of steps; the hallway leading out of the dorm room and into the central courtyard was before her now, but the door was blocked by Phoebe Kommenos — her hair now in its natural blonde colour, with no trace of the black dye that she had been wearing at the beginning of the semester — leaning against the wall with her arms folded, glancing in Pyrrha’s direction.

There was no way to reach the door without passing her, so Pyrrha kept her gaze fixed upon said door and paid Phoebe not the least bit of attention as she walked towards it.

“So,” Phoebe said, “the traitor has returned.”

Pyrrha did not wish to dignify that with a response. She said nothing and continued walking.

Phoebe stepped away from the wall to physically bar Pyrrha’s way.

Pyrrha came to a stop, scant inches from Phoebe. “May you please let me pass?” she asked. “I have urgent business I must attend to.”

“‘Urgent business,’” Phoebe repeated, in a mocking tone. “I think I can guess what that might be.”

“It is nothing like you imagine,” Pyrrha declared. “Nor is it anything that you can guess but will not dare to say.”

Phoebe’s blue eyes bulged. “Do you … are implying that I am afraid of you?”

“If you are not afraid, then speak your mind and give me cause,” Pyrrha said. “Else let me pass.”

Phoebe scowled, but she did not say what it was that she thought Pyrrha was going to do. Instead, she said, “I understand that you’ve been at the home of that peasant of yours.”

“Jaune is not a peasant,” Pyrrha replied sharply.

“Is he not?” Phoebe asked. “Is he not rustic? Does he not originate in the countryside? Is he not lowly born?”

That remains to be determined. “He did grow up in the countryside, yes.”

“Then it is no insult to say that he is a peasant, is it?” Phoebe asked.

“The Arc family are landowners within their community,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Small, by the standards of your family, or mine own, but Jaune’s father is a landed gentleman nevertheless.”

“Then I apologise for insulting Squire Arc’s dignity so,” Phoebe growled. She smirked and let out a titter of light laughter. “It was only my intent to call a spade a spade, or a trashcan a trashcan.” She laughed again. “But still, even if there is some little plot of land within the family … he is only a Valish gentleman, you will concede.”

“I will agree, I concede nothing,” Pyrrha said. “What is your point, Phoebe?”

“Why?” Phoebe demanded. “The best man in Mistral waits for you, and yet, you lower yourself into the Valish earth with this … this small landowner’s son.”

“My judgement of men is not yours,” Pyrrha declared. “My view on what makes a good man is not the same as yours. If Turnus Rutulus is so worthy in your eyes, then pursue him for yourself.”

Phoebe scowled. “You think that you are so much better than the rest of us, don’t you? You think that just because you were born skilled and are reputed virtuous, because you have the love of the common rabble, you may go about with your nose in the air and your head in the clouds looking down upon the rest of us, casting aspersions upon our ways, our honour, our way of life. You spit on our traditions.”

Phoebe spat on her, a glob of spittle landing upon Pyrrha’s cheek.

Pyrrha took a step back, wiping at her face with one hand. “I knew you didn’t like me,” she observed. “I thought it was just because I beat you.”

“The fact that such gifts as yours, the greatest gifts to be bestowed in Mistral in many a year, were given to one who hates Mistral—”

“I do not hate Mistral!” Pyrrha cried. “A piece of my heart will belong to our city always.”

“The city will soon see you for what you truly are,” Phoebe declared. “And I cannot wait to see your statue fall.” She turned away, and strode out of the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

Pyrrha had no wish to follow her too closely out; she wanted to find Yang, true, but she didn’t want to come out too closely behind Phoebe and be drawn into yet more confrontation with her.

My nose in the air and my head in the clouds, is that really how she sees me?

Is that how I am seen by all, or others?

She did not confess. But then, I hardly said anything that would have led her to confess or to acknowledge what she had done.

What would I do if I had proof, challenge her?

I would have cause to do so.

But as of now, I have none; she was careful not to give me cause for such a thing.

She hates me. But what could I have done, other than letting her win?

I am not willing to do that. It may be a vanity, but I am proud of my record of victories.

It may be all I have.

Perhaps if I had married Turnus, she would not think me so down upon Mistralian tradition.

But I am not willing to do that either. I would not forsake Jaune for … for anything.

Let her think that I care not for Mistral and Mistralian ways; I’ll be happy with Jaune, and that counts for more.

Though I do hope that others in Mistral will take to him more warmly than Phoebe Kommenos.

Judging that enough time had gone by and that Phoebe would not be so close at this point, Pyrrha followed her out of the door, emerging out of the dormitory and into the sunlight that fell upon the grounds. Her eyes passed briefly over the statue of the huntsman and huntress, where a figure sat enrobed in purple and dark green.

Pyrrha turned away, her red sash trailing a little behind her as she moved to walk around the building and towards the cliffs.

“Pyrrha!” a voice called to her, female but mellow, almost mature-sounding. “Pyrrha Nikos!”

Pyrrha turned back to see the figure who had been seated on the statue approaching her. She wore a light purple dress, narrow and ankle-length, allowing her feet to be visible in the forest green shoes whose straps wound their way up the pale skin of her feet and legs. Over her dress, she wore a dark green cloak, complete with a hood by the looks of things, although she was not wearing the hood at present, revealing a pale, sharp-featured face and long hair of a pale bluish purple spilling down behind her head. She was wearing a second cape over the top of that one, a short cape of a deep, regal purple, clasped at the neck with a golden broach.

Her high-heeled shoes tapped against the flagstones of the courtyard as she approached.

“Pyrrha Nikos,” she said again.

“You have the advantage of me,” Pyrrha replied.

“Medea,” she said. “Medea Helios, from Colchis in Mistral.”

“Ah, yes, Colchis,” Pyrrha said. “They have a very grand arena there; I fought in a small tournament—”

“In honour of the wedding of my sister, Chalciope,” Medea informed her. “It would have been polite to have let the groom take the honours.”

Pyrrha laughed nervously. “I hope that no true warrior would wish for the false triumph of having victory gifted to him.”

Medea chuckled. “I don’t know about that, but I do know that at the end of the tournament, you may have got the laurel, but Phrixus still got to marry my sister, and if that wasn’t enough for him, then he wouldn’t be worth consideration.”

Pyrrha nodded. “You are a Haven student?”

“Team Jasmine,” Medea replied. “I am not the leader, but I sometimes feel as though I do the work of such. Where Jason and the rest would be without my plans, I shudder to think.”

“Medea,” Pyrrha said, “I do not wish to be rude, but I do have some business to attend to—”

“Oh, please, I won’t keep you long,” Medea assured her. “I just wanted to say that, no matter what may be said about you in some quarters, you have my support. You’ve got that of my team too, but mine is more important, obviously.”

“That is very kind of you,” Pyrrha said. “But I’m a little surprised to hear that I have the support of Jason and Meleager.”

“Yes, they told me about what happened when you were younger; fortunately, they’ve mellowed since then. And they don’t believe that a student of Chiron could betray Mistral or humanity.”

“And you?” Pyrrha asked.

“You have the favour of the gods; your victories proclaim it,” Medea said. “And as a priestess, I can say with confidence that they would not grant their favour to one who was not worthy of it.”

The gods of Mistral are not real and never were, Pyrrha thought. But what she said, because that fact was almost too depressing to think about, much less to voice to a servant of the gods, was, “Which god are you a priestess to?”

“Thessaly,” Medea said. “The Nightwitch, the Boundary Warden, the Moon’s Mistress, the Keeper of the Crossroads and the Entrance Ways. Incidentally, the lore of herbs and poisonous plants are a particular hobby of mine and sacred to Thessaly, so if you’d like me to poison anyone who speaks ill of you—”

“That is a very … generous offer,” Pyrrha said. “But no, thank you, that won’t be necessary. I hope that most people will see these lies for what they are in any case.”

“As you wish,” Medea said. “But my offer stands, should you reconsider.”

“I will bear that in mind,” Pyrrha murmured. “But now, I really must be going.”

“Good fortune, and the moon smile down upon you, Pyrrha Nikos,” Medea declared with a bow of her head.

Pyrrha smiled, a rather fixed smile, the sort of smile that did not reach her eyes she used for the press.

She found herself walking more briskly than normal as she headed away from school towards the cliffs.

One person hates me, and the other who supports me wants to poison people on my behalf.

There are times I would rather have been born a shepherdess than the heiress to the House of Nikos.

Although I’m sure that if any real shepherdesses were to hear my thought, then they would sneer and scoff and say that I have no idea how hard they work.

They would even be right to think so.

Even so…

Pyrrha counted herself fortunate — a stroke of good fortune she quite frankly deserved — that she did indeed find Yang upon the cliffs, sitting down in such a way that looked temporary, her legs laid out in such a way as she could easily leap up again the moment the mood took her, one hand resting upon the grass and the other upon her knee.

She was looking out across the cliffs to the Emerald Forest beyond as the gentle breeze licked at her long golden hair.

“Yang,” Pyrrha said, as she approached. “Ren told me I might find you here.”

Yang shrugged. “Well, here I am.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I was hoping that I could speak to you.”

“Let me guess,” Yang said, with a sigh in her voice. “It’s about Ruby, right?”

“It is,” Pyrrha agreed.

Yang looked away. “I’m not sure that I’m in the mood for that right now,” she said.

“No?”

“No,” Yang said.

Pyrrha took another few steps closer towards her. She could feel the breeze lapping at her face, tugging at her crimson sash and her long ponytail.

“I,” she said, following Yang’s gaze out over the forest, “have just been accused in print, or at least in publication, of being an ally of the White Fang, an accomplice of Cinder Fall, and an enemy of humanity. Someone has just admitted they hate me, and the person who told me they support me wants to poison people on my behalf if they do not also support me. So tell me, Yang, how has your day been so far?”

Yang looked up at her, her lilac eyes wide. “Oh my God, you’re not even kidding, are you?”

“Unfortunately not,” Pyrrha murmured.

Yang continued to stare up at her. “Well, if your intent was to show that my day isn’t so bad … it kinda worked.” She patted the ground beside her. “Sit down.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly and sat down, her legs spread out to her right.

For a moment, they sat in silence, both looking out over the forest. There were no flying grimm in the air today, and they could see no grimm down below either, concealed as they were by the great expanse of the green trees. All they could see were the ships of the Atlesian fleet patrolling overhead, the vigil of the north keeping watch over them all.

“I gotta admit,” Yang said. “There have been times when I’ve thought it must be pretty cool to be you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to think so,” Pyrrha whispered.

“But you don’t, do you?”

“There are times…” Pyrrha said. “There are times when I … when I dislike my life intensely.”

Yang snorted. “You dislike it intensely? If you want to say ‘hate’ you can, you know.”

“I’m not sure that I could go that far,” Pyrrha said. “After all, I cannot deny that I have grown up extraordinarily privileged, wanting for nothing; to say I hate it might seem … too spoiled.”

Yang shook her head. “You don’t need to be so mild all the time, you know. You’re allowed to let it out. You just did a moment ago when you asked me how my day was. You should act that way more often.”

“No, I don’t think that I could,” Pyrrha replied. “That isn’t me at all.”

“Then who asked me how my day was?” Yang asked.

“Someone who suddenly felt extremely tired,” Pyrrha said. “I’m sorry.”

“And don’t apologise either,” Yang instructed her. “How was your trip?”

Pyrrha allowed herself to smile. “We … we talked about our future together,” she said.

“You and Jaune?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Where we would live … how many children we’d have.”

“Wow!” Yang said. “You two are down bad, aren’t you?”

Pyrrha chuckled, her cheeks heating up. “You say that as though it’s something to be ashamed of.”

“At our age, it kind of is,” Yang replied. “Should you really be tying yourself down like that so young? Isn’t he your first crush?”

“He is,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “But … I already know that I will never find another like him.”

“How?” Yang asked. “How can you possibly know that?”

“I don’t know it, I feel it,” Pyrrha replied. “In my heart. In my soul. How else should I feel love?”

Yang did not reply for a moment. She said, “Well, if you’re sure, then what is there to do but wish you happiness?” She paused. “You know my … my mother and my dad got together at Beacon.”

Pyrrha hesitated. “You mean … Raven?”

Yang nodded. “And then she left.” She paused. “You know, Jaune looks an awful lot like our Dad: blond hair, blue eyes—”

“That does not make me Raven,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“No, no, it doesn’t, and I wasn’t suggesting that you were going to … I guess I’m just saying, at our age, these things don’t always work out.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Pyrrha whispered. “Yang … Ruby is bound by strictest secrecy, as we all are—”

“About Salem, yes,” Yang agreed. “But about Mom?”

“As Summer Rose was Professor Ozpin’s agent against Salem, her story is bound up with those secrets,” Pyrrha said.

“Not everything about her is; it doesn’t have to be,” Yang replied. “Ruby could have told me … she could have told me where Mom came from, how she got to Vale, what happened to her when she got there. She could have told me stuff if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t.”

“It has not been so long,” Pyrrha pointed out. “It could be that Ruby was waiting for the right time.”

“Why wasn’t the right time right after?” Yang demanded.

“I … cannot say,” Pyrrha admitted. “But you know Ruby bears you no malice; she would never intentionally harm you thus.”

“I know,” Yang muttered. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. A lot of things hurt right now.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that Professor Ozpin didn’t want me to know the truth because he’s worried I’ll turn out like my mother,” Yang said. “Like the fact that my mother is a pretty awful person to turn out like, more than I ever expected.”

“How so?” Pyrrha asked.

Yang glanced at her, then glanced away, then glanced at Pyrrha again. “She’s a bandit,” she said. “And not the good kind, either.”

“Is there a good kind of bandit?”

“I don’t know, people keep asking me if she, I don’t know—”

“Robs from the rich and gives to the poor?” Pyrrha suggested. “I think that only happens in stories.”

“Probably,” Yang agreed. “My mother kills the poor and steals from their bodies.”

“And my ancestors kept faunus as slaves,” Pyrrha pointed out. “We are not those who came before us. We may draw strength and inspiration from their virtues, if they had any, but we are not fated to do as they did, not condemned to walk the paths they walked, not certain to win their triumphs nor condemned to their disasters. Our destinies, our final goals, they are in our keeping and ours alone. Where is it that you see yourself, Yang Xiao Long, at the end of your journey?”

“At the end of my journey? What am I, you?” Yang asked. “Do you think I have all that stuff planned out?”

“I think if you didn’t know where you wanted to be, you would not be here,” Pyrrha replied gently.

Yang shrugged. “I mean … I wanted to travel, I guess. I wanted a life of adventure, a life where I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, what it would throw at me. A succession of new places to see, new people to meet … and new challenges to test myself against.”

“'Wanted,'” Pyrrha murmured. “Not want?”

Yang sighed. “Salem—”

“Is not your responsibility,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Professor Ozpin has not asked for your help; you are under no obligation to give it.”

Yang let out a slightly bitter laugh. “I guess you have a point there,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like much of a goal though, does it?”

“The goal is yours,” Pyrrha replied. “It is not for others to pronounce upon your destiny, its worthiness or otherwise. It is yours, and only you can say whether it is worthy of you or no.” She paused. “Although I think Ruby would like a niece or nephew.”

“Really?” Yang asked amusedly. “I’ll bear that in mind.” She paused. “Hey, Pyrrha?”

“Yes?”

“Ruby gets that what she did was wrong, right?” Yang asked. “Because I’m not going to apologise; I shouldn’t have to. But … but I can accept her apology, I think.”

“That is all that Ruby wants, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said.

Yang nodded. “Hey, Pyrrha?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t sweat too much about what gets written about you, or the people who hate you, or the people who want to poison for you … actually, do worry about that a little bit; you don’t want to get charged as an accessory,” Yang grinned. “The point is … none of them, none of them, really matter. You know who's got your back. You know who really knows you. Who really loves you. They’re the ones that matter.”

“I know,” Pyrrha agreed. “And I feel intensely fortunate every time I remind myself of it.”

As the dorm room door closed behind Pyrrha, Ruby got up from her bed and walked over to the long desk that ran along the far side of the room. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen.

"So, Jaune," she said, "what do you want your new sword to look like? Do you even want a sword at all? You know, if we melted all the pieces of the blade down, I think we'd probably have enough metal for an axe—"

"'An axe'?" Jaune repeated. "Wouldn't that be a little different to use compared to a sword?"

Ruby thought about it for a moment. "Probably a little bit, yeah."

"I think I should stick with a sword," Jaune replied. "I don't want Pyrrha to have to start teaching me how to use a new weapon from scratch all over again."

"That makes sense," Ruby said, as she walked back towards him. "My Mom used an axe," she said.

"Really?" Jaune asked. "Did Professor Ozpin tell you that?"

"Yeah," Ruby replied. Her voice became lower and quieter as she added, "It's one of the things that I didn't tell Yang."

"She'll come around," Jaune assured her. "She won't stay mad at you forever, she can't." He changed the subject, not back to his own weapon — he was … not exactly putting it off, but buying himself a few more minutes' breathing room to come up with more ideas — but to that of Summer Rose. "So, what was your Mom's axe called?"

"Vargcrist," Ruby announced. "It means 'Wolf Cleaver.'"

"Woah, sounds cool," Jaune said. "In either language. From the fact that Professor Ozpin told you that, I'm guessing that your Dad doesn't have it?"

Ruby shook her head. "Professor Ozpin said it disappeared with my Mom, on her last mission."

"'Disappeared,'" Jaune murmured. "You mean—?"

"They never found … they never found her, no," Ruby murmured.

"Then maybe—"

"No," Ruby replied. "No, she's not."

"What makes you so sure?" Jaune asked.

"Because she wouldn't just leave us," Ruby declared. "She wouldn't go away and disappear without saying anything like … like Raven. If Mom could come home, then she would have. She's gone. No one knows how or where exactly, but … but she's gone."

Jaune nodded, wishing that he hadn't mentioned it. It had seemed kind of obvious when Ruby talked about disappearance, but now … yeah, it would have been pretty rough for Summer Rose to have treated her children like that; if she could have done it, she would have been a very different sort of Mom than the one that Ruby seemed to remember — or idolise.

"What else did Professor Ozpin tell you?" he asked.

"Well, this is something that I need to tell Pyrrha as well, but Team Stark tried to take out Salem once."

Jaune's eyebrows rose as his blue eyes widened. "Really? But Salem can't be killed!"

"But Professor Ozpin hoped that they could be turned to stone using Mom's silver eyes," Ruby explained. "Only it … didn't work. According to Raven, Mom's eyes didn't do anything to her at all."

"Nothing?" Jaune repeated. "So … is she invulnerable as well as unkillable? She can't even be hurt?"

"I don't know," Ruby admitted. "Professor Ozpin didn't say … Professor Ozpin probably doesn't know. He wasn't there himself; he only knows what Mom and the others told him when they got back, and I don't think they knew exactly. Does it … does it really matter? Immortal, invulnerable, after what happened with Team Stark, it's not like we're ever going to face her ourselves."

"I guess not," Jaune said softly. "We'll just take on the likes of Cinder and the grimm."

"Uh huh," Ruby agreed. "But you aren't going to take on anybody without a sword."

Jaune chuckled. "Right, that."

Ruby hopped back onto her bed, resting the pad of paper on her knee. "So, what do you want? And don't say you just want your sword back the way it was, because that would be really boring, even if it is traditional."

"That's not what I want, don't worry," Jaune told her. "My Dad said that I should remake it in a way that's mine, a weapon for me, not for my great-great-grandfather or my great-grandfather or any other Arc who used Crocea Mors before me." He paused, scratching his chin with one finger. "The problem is … I don't really know what that means right now. A weapon that's for me, I mean. After all, I only started learning to fight this year; I'm still getting a hang of the basics." He smiled. "I guess what I'm saying is, it's a pity that Cinder couldn't wait until closer to graduation to break my sword when I have more idea of where my strengths are."

Ruby grinned. "Well, we know you've got a lot of aura, why don't we start there? That's a strength."

"Yeah, it is," Jaune agreed. "But what does it have to do with a weapon?"

"You could use your weapon to do powerful aura attacks," Ruby suggested.

"If I wanted to do that, wouldn't it make as much sense to just punch people, like Rainbow Dash does?"

"I guess so, but if you focussed your aura through your weapon, I'm pretty sure that you'd be more efficient and directed about it," Ruby replied. "Plus, you'd have the additional power coming from the weapon itself."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I did have a thought," Ruby said, sketching rapidly upon the paper. "That if we reforged it the way it was, we could then rework the scabbard so that, besides converting to a shield, it could actually form an expanded sword, a two-hander — we'd have to expand the hilt so that you could hold it two-handed — which would allow you more powerful attacks even before we factor in the use of aura."

"But then I wouldn't have a shield," Jaune pointed out.

"Do you really need one?" Ruby asked. "Or armour, for that matter. With aura, you can focus your energies into the attack—"

"Maybe you'd have a point if I was just starting out on the rooftop," Jaune said. "But it's the same as changing a sword for an axe: I've already spent a whole year learning how to use a shield; I don't want to make that all just wasted effort."

"Hmm," Ruby murmured, which didn't sound particularly convinced, but she didn't contest the point; rather, she scrubbed out whatever she'd been drawing on the pad. "So, do you have any ideas?"

Jaune leaned forwards a little. "A couple. Do you think I'd be better off with a gun or with dust?"

Ruby frowned. "I don't think there's enough metal — in fact, I know for sure that there isn't enough metal — to give your sword transforming abilities. Even if you went for something simple like Penny's Floating Array, where all the swords do is fold up to create the laser cannons, I'm not sure you could retain the low width necessary to fit the scabbard."

"I'm not talking about transforming into a gun," Jaune said. "I'm talking about a gun just built into the sword, like Dove has, or else just a sword that also uses dust, like Weiss or Russel."

Ruby nodded. "That could work. Have you thought about using dust in your shield too?"

"In the shield?"

"I mean, you want to keep it, right?" Ruby asked. "Just because it isn't broken doesn't mean you can't upgrade it at the same time as you're reforging your sword."

Jaune thought about that for a moment. Flash used dust in his shield; he'd seen it in combat class: he used lightning to shock opponents through their weapons. It didn't always work — for one thing, it relied upon his opponent touching his shield long enough for him to set off the lightning, and for another thing, it really, really backfired when he went up against Nora — but it was an effective tool in the Altesian's arsenal.

Jaune wasn't sure that it was really him, however. Admittedly, he wasn't certain yet what was him, but still … it didn't feel like him. The shield was a weapon, true, but that kind of weapon?

It occurred to him that if he didn't know what kind of a fighter he was yet, he could at least think about what kind of a fighter he wanted to be: someone who could hold his own at Pyrrha's side and cover her flank if necessary.

"What about hardlight dust?" he asked. "I could expand my shield, maybe, get better coverage out of it, maybe big enough that the rest of you could shelter behind it if you had to."

"That's a cool idea," Ruby said. "But hardlight dust is really hard to come by. I thought about using hardlight dust rounds in Crescent Rose once — I thought I might get better penetration than regular rounds — and Uncle Qrow told me that Atlas makes it really hard to export to the other kingdoms; even the SDC has a hard time selling any of it. Apparently, unless you know someone from Atlas who can get it to you discreetly, you have to buy it directly from the SDC and pay through the nose for it."

"That sucks," Jaune said. "Why do they do that?"

"It's the rarest kind of dust, and really useful for science, I think," Ruby replied. "They don't want to run out."

"Makes sense, I guess," Jaune murmured. He considered asking one of Team RSPT to help him get his hands on some hardlight dust, but he didn't really know any of them that well — he wasn't as close to them as Sunset, or even Ruby — and besides, they wouldn't be around next year. "Is gravity dust hard to come by?"

"Kind of, not as much as hardlight," Ruby replied. "Why?"

"I was thinking about how you and me and Pyrrha have moves where you springboard off my shield," Jaune said. "And I thought, what if I had gravity dust in my shield? I could maybe launch you further."

Ruby grinned. "Yeah, yeah, you sure could," she said, amusement in her voice. "You'd have to be careful not to overdo it, though."

It took Jaune a moment to work out what she meant. "Oh God!" he exclaimed. The vision of Pyrrha disappearing out of sight into the air was at once both horrifying and hilarious. "Yeah, let… let's not do that," he said. "In fact, why don't we leave the shield for now? So, what do you think: gun or dust?"

"Dust," Ruby said.

"That was a quick answer from someone who uses a gun," Jaune pointed out.

"Learning how to shoot well is a skill," Ruby said. "Learning how to shoot well with something that doesn't have a gun grip, or a stock, or any kind of sights, is much, much harder. It's amazing Dove doesn't miss with at least nine out of ten of his shots. Use dust, and if you use the right kind of dust, the accuracy — or lack of it — won't be such a big deal. Plus — again, with the right kind of dust — you'll get a lot more power from it than you will with the kind of gun you could build into your sword."

"Okay, dust it is then," Jaune agreed. "Leaving aside what kind of dust for a second, because I've got some thoughts on that—"

"What thoughts?"

"Ice," Jaune said. "Fire. The usual ones, seeing as how it seems all the unusual ones are hard to get and difficult to use."

"You won't have to worry about the dust store not having what you need," Ruby agreed. "But you were saying?"

"I was just going to ask what that might look like," Jaune said.

Ruby smiled as she began to draw. "I think it could look something like this."

“Mister Tukson?” Sunset called as she walked into the library. “Mister Tukson, are you still here?”

It occurred to her that he might have gone back to his bookshop already; after all, with Adam dead and the White Fang a shadow of what it once was, there wasn’t exactly the need for him to stick around at Beacon any more.

Certainly, the library seemed to be empty at the moment. There was no one in the stacks, there was no one at the terminals or at the tables, there was no one … anywhere that Sunset could see. Even the lights failed to turn on as she walked in, although that was because it was daylight, and there was plenty of, well, day light streaming in through the great windows.

Sunset adjusted her grip on her bag, with the books that she had borrowed to take to Alba Longa. Without someone around, it was going to be difficult to access the records she needed; it wasn’t as though just any student could look at who had borrowed what books going back years into the past.

Fortunately, a voice replied, “Hang on a second, I’ll be right with you.” A moment later, Tukson emerged from out of the back, carrying a ledger in one hand. “Miss Shimmer? Something I can help you with? Or did you just come to return those books you borrowed earlier?”

“I have them right here,” Sunset said, opening up her bag with one hand as she walked towards him, “but no, that’s not why I’m here.”

Tukson put his ledger down on the desk in front of him, separating himself from Sunset. “Okay then,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“There are records of borrowings, right?” Sunset asked, as she approached the desk. “There are records of who borrowed what book, or rather records of what books were borrowed by which student?”

“Sure,” Tukson agreed. “Otherwise, how would the school know who to fine for not returning books on time? Why?”

“I’m hoping that I can look at those records and see which books were borrowed by a certain student,” Sunset said. “This would be a while back, about two generations ago.”

Tukson’s eyebrows rose. “'Two generations'? What would you be interested in borrowings from the library way back then for?”

“Because I know that they were looking for something, and I know that they … they certainly thought that they found something, and if I look in the same places that they did, then maybe I can find it too,” Sunset explained.

“That’s kind of light on detail,” Tukson remarked.

“I’m light on evidence at the moment,” Sunset said. “But I’d better be on the right track because it’s the only track I’ve got to follow right now.”

Tukson reached up to scratch the gap between his eyebrows. “You know, those records from that far back won’t be computerised,” he said. “Do you have a year you want to look at?”

Sunset did not, in fact, have a year that she wanted to look at, but one thing that had been computerised were the enrolment records going all the way back to the foundation of Beacon, so it was pretty easy to find the years that Carrot Arc and Crown D’Eath had attended Beacon — Team CCDN, pronounced ‘Carcharodon’ apparently — which at least narrowed it down a little bit.

Which was to say that it narrowed it down enough for Tukson to drop a stack of dusty old ledgers he had pulled from the back room down in front of her and tell her to knock herself out.

Evidently, he wasn’t going to help, for which Sunset couldn’t exactly blame him. It was an odd thing to be doing, to an outside observer.

It would probably seem a little odd to someone who knew what she was about, to be honest.

But Lady Nikos had dealt fairly with her, and while he might not explicitly want to know about his ancestry, Sunset couldn’t believe that Jaune would be unhappy to learn where his family came from.

And besides … she was pretty curious herself, at this point. While he might not have been the very best of men, Crown D’Eath had found something about his partner that he considered important, that he had believed in. Something that Carrot Arc had believed in too and been determined to keep secret.

Sunset didn’t want to just walk away from that with the mystery unresolved. She wanted to get to the bottom of it. She wanted to find the answers, if only for her own personal satisfaction.

And so she trawled the old ledgers of borrowed books — she really hoped that Crown D’Eath had checked them out; if he had simply read them in the library, then she’d be up the creek — looking for the name of Crown D’Eath.

At last, she found it — having checked out a bestiary of grimm, presumably for his Grimm Studies class.

Sunset kept looking. There were a lot of records and a lot of books; names passed before her in long rows, all the students who had come before. As she read their names, as she read the titles of the books that they had checked out — books about grimm, books about myths and fairytales, books about history, books about plants — Sunset wondered how many of them had known the truth, as she and her teammates knew the truth. Which of them had been recruited by Professor Ozpin to help him in his fight against Salem and which of them had passed through Beacon ignorant of the true nature of the struggle consuming and convulsing Remnant.

She noted the name of Auburn at one point, a reminder to go and speak to Professor Ozpin about Maidens at some point.

Most of the books checked out by Crown D’Eath were quite ordinary, the same sort of books that numerous students checked out to help with their schoolwork. However, after a not inconsiderable period of looking, Sunset did come across one entry that struck her as a little unusual: A Compendium of Notable Weapons and their Deeds.

Now, it was possible that this was for a history assignment of some kind, but — while admittedly Doctor Oobleck wouldn’t have been teaching the course then, and Sunset didn’t know how whoever had held the chair then had approached the subject — it didn’t seem to fit with the way that history was taught at Beacon, albeit if this had been Haven Academy, she might have believed that it was for classwork.

But as this was Beacon, Sunset did not believe it. And besides, she recalled that it was Crocea Mors that had first started Crown D’Eath off upon his own search for the truth.

So Sunset sought out the book and counted herself fortunate that it was still in the library; judging by the amount of dust on it as she pulled it off the shelf — it made her sneeze a couple of times — it didn’t get read very often; it would have been just her luck if it had been got rid of.

She took it back to her table, opened it up from the back and scanned the index to find the entry for Crocea Mors.

Sunset had already know that Crocea Mors was the name of a famous sword: the sword of Jaune of Gaunt, fourth son of King Edward Farstrider — the king whom Olivia, of the eponymous song, had been in love with; in fact, according to legend, it was Olivia who had placed the sword in Jaune’s hand and knighted him.

Sunset had already known that. What she had not been expecting was to turn to the page and see a drawing that looked exactly like Jaune’s sword. Or at least, that looked exactly as Jaune’s sword had looked before it had been broken. The length, the shape, the hilt — the hilt was the most telling thing, to Sunset’s mind; swords might come in similar shapes and sizes depending on the type of sword they were, but you would expect hilts to have a little more variety about them. But this … she might have been looking at Jaune’s sword.

She was looking at Jaune’s sword: the sword of Jaune of Gaunt and the lately broken sword of Jaune Arc.

The illustration was accompanied by a potted biography which ended by concluding that the sword had been lost during the Anarchy that followed the death of King Aethelred.

Someone — and Sunset had a good idea who — had scrawled underneath the words In the family all this time.

So … Crown D’Eath discovers that Carrot’s sword has the same name as this famous blade, and he must have seen illustrations of the famous Crocea Mors before, and rushes off to confirm that they are — to his satisfaction, at least — the same weapon.

And this makes him try and break up Carrot and his Mistralian girlfriend and then go on a killing spree.

No, it makes him kill the girl and a Councillor.

And just like that, all the pieces fell together in Sunset’s mind.

Crown D’Eath, moody, bitter, obsessed with the past and with the lost glories of his noble family, Crown D’Eath who lamented the downfall of the monarchy, Crown D’Eath had killed one councillor and probably intended to kill others and create a power vacuum.

And he had murdered Delphi because she was not worthy to be consort to the rightful King of Vale.

Pyrrha remained upon the cliffs.

Yang had gone. With good fortune, she had gone to reconcile with Ruby, or at the very least, she had gone to wait for Ruby’s apology in a better frame of mind and heart than she had been in before.

In any case, she had gone, but Pyrrha remained.

She remained upon the cliffs, with her long red ponytail dancing behind her as the breeze blew in from the Emerald Forest, kissing her face and her bare shoulders.

She remained upon the cliffs and looked out, across the forest, across the world, and pondered upon her situation.

What could she do? What could she do about Phoebe and her allegations, about her feelings of … inadequacy, about all of this?

What could she do?

Phoebe — assuming it was Phoebe, and while she had not quite admitted as much, she could not be said to have gone out of her way to deny it either — had alleged these things about her. Kendal, Arslan, they had both asked Pyrrha what she intended to do about it, but … what could she do? Phoebe had admitted nothing, and even if she had admitted it, to challenge her … it could easily be thought to be the act of a guilty person.

A denial would be pro forma, expected.

What could she do then, save hope that those — like Ren and Nora — would judge her by her deeds and not the words of…?

Judge me by my deeds.

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. Could it … could it be so simple? Had the answer been staring her in the face this entire time?

Have I been such a fool?

No, not a fool — although Sunset will call me a fool, no doubt, when she hears what I have in mind — say rather that I have been too little of a Mistralian to see the answer right before my eyes.

I have been … I have been too concerned to be ordinary, and yet, I am not ordinary. I am Pyrrha Nikos, and I have a claim upon the old ways if any have such.

And yet, for all that she could explain it, nevertheless, the answer seemed now to her so simple that she did feel a little obtuse for having missed it previously.

Or perhaps I was not desperate enough to take it previously.

Phoebe alleged that Pyrrha and Cinder were in cahoots, in league together, allies; Cinder haunted Pyrrha’s mind, the memory of their battle under Mountain Glenn had shaken her; many things had shaken Pyrrha; she was no longer certain that her skill at arms was sufficient to avail her in this great struggle.

What, then, to do? Why, bind them together and slice through the whole knot of them at once. Prove Phoebe wrong, prove to herself that she had a place in all this, exorcise Cinder from her spirit … and from life itself.

Jaune … she had already broken her promise to Jaune once.

But, if she spoke to him about it before she did it, he was sure that he would understand.

She had hope that he would understand.

At the same time, she was rather glad she hadn’t thought of this in Kendal’s presence, for she had a feeling that Jaune’s sister would not have understood.

If I am Pyrrha Nikos, I will triumph.

Pyrrha looked down. The cliff fell away beneath her, down and down to the forest below.

She was poised to leap from it, for what rewards awaited her on the other side.

Pyrrha turned away from the cliffs, turning her back upon the physical leap in favour of the spiritual, and got her scroll out of one of the pouches on her belt.

She called her mother. It took her but a few moments to answer.

“Pyrrha,” Mother said, “I did not expect to hear from you again so soon.”

“No, Mother, but I have had a thought,” Pyrrha said. “I would like you to cease your legal action against the Daily Remnant; a victory in the courts will convince no one.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “This insult must be answered.”

“And it will be, in the old way,” Pyrrha said. “I will answer these allegations, and much else, in a way that proves their falsehood beyond doubt.

“I mean to publicly challenge Cinder to single combat.”

Why We Keep Secrets (New)

Why We Keep Secrets

Mother was silent for a moment, looking up at Pyrrha from out of the screen of her scroll. “I see,” she murmured.

“But you do not approve,” Pyrrha said, in a tone that was equally soft.

“I question the practicality,” Mother replied. “We are, after all, discussing some variety of brigand. What makes you think she will accept this challenge? Or is to make the challenge the entire purpose, with no expectation that it will be answered? Because if that be the case, I fear you may only make yourself look foolish.”

“Cinder will accept,” Pyrrha insisted. “She is a Mistralian, and steeped in the old ways, and…”

Mother’s brow furrowed. “'And'?” she repeated.

“And she bears me animus,” Pyrrha explained. “She … hates me, I believe. She will not refuse a chance to kill me.”

“I see,” Mother whispered. “Is she skilled, this Cinder Fall?”

“She is ferocious,” Pyrrha allowed. “I would not call her skilled.”

Mother hesitated for a moment, and Pyrrha could feel through the scroll the question that was not said, the question that her mother wished to ask but could not ask: Can you win?

But, in the end, her mother did not ask; either she feared to seem as though she doubted her daughter, or else her pride in Pyrrha was too great to acknowledge the possibility that Pyrrha might not win…

Or else that was not the question that had lingered upon the tip of her tongue, and Pyrrha had only thought that it might be.

“You are my only child,” Mother said. “My heir, the last of our line-”

“And I will be your only child when this is done,” Pyrrha declared. “I will be the last of our line still until I have a child by Jaune, as I mean to. Mother, I do not take this step to throw away my life. There is peril in it, true, but there is peril in many things in the life of a huntress. I take this step… because I would be shamed, before the great-hearted Mistralians, if I did nothing.”

“Shame,” Mother murmured. “I see. You believe that by this gesture, you will effectively silence all those who dare to speak of collusion between the two of you?”

“I am under no illusions,” Pyrrha said. “There will always be malcontents who dislike me, who envy me, who wish to see me … cut down to size. But for the rest, for those who judge with their eyes and with their minds … I do not see how it can be denied that these are falsehoods.”

“Some may argue that you have staged a battle to exonerate yourself.”

“When one of us stands and the other falls, no one will call that staged,” Pyrrha said, quietly but firmly all the same.

Mother gave a slight nod of her head. “I am … surprised,” she said. “I would not have expected such … I would not have expected this.”

“Am I become more the daughter that you wished in your eyes?” Pyrrha asked and could not keep a touch of bitterness entering her voice.

“Is that what you think?” Mother replied. “That I wished that you were otherwise?”

“Is it not so?” Pyrrha said.

Mother did not reply, either to say yes or no, which to Pyrrha’s mind was an answer, even if it were not the answer that she wished to receive.

“Very well,” Mother said. “I will cease the legal action — although I may hold off on doing so until I have extracted a retraction from them. You are right that it will have no discernible impact upon opinion, but it would stick in my craw to simply leave the matter uncontested. If that meets with your approval.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose beneath her circlet. “I was not aware that your actions required my approval, Mother.”

“You have made clear that you intend to handle this yourself,” Mother said. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

Pyrrha was shocked into silence by that. Mother had never spoken to her like that before, never shown that much trust in her before.

That, as far as she was concerned, was proof that she had always wanted Pyrrha to behave like this, or at least more like this, whatever Mother might say to the contrary.

“The threat … may remain,” she allowed. She agreed with Mother; she didn’t like the idea of the article standing as it was, however unlikely any kind of retraction was to change any minds.

“Very well,” Mother said. “In that case, I will leave the matter in your hands, Pyrrha.” She was silent for a moment. “Good fortune attend you, and Victory shower you with her blessings. And take, also, a mother’s blessing on your arms.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Always be the best, the bravest,” Mother said, citing the unimpeachable authority of The Mistraliad, “and hold your head up high above all others.”

I will discover … perhaps not if I am the best, Pyrrha thought, but I will at least be able to hold my head up once again.

“Words I will always endeavour to live up to,” Pyrrha said. “Goodbye, Mother.”

She hung up and lowered her scroll down to her side, letting her arms hang loosely on either side of her. She raised her head up to the sky and let a sigh escape her.

Now came the harder task: telling Sunset and Jaune about what she planned to do.

Sunset looked down at the page, with Crown D’Eath’s handwritten scribble underneath the closing paragraph.

He had certainly believed it. He had come here, he had compared the picture of a sword to the actual sword wielded by his friend, and he had believed that they were one and the same.

More than that, he had believed that it was proof that Carrot Arc was the rightful King of Vale.

Well, perhaps that was making the man seem more deranged than was warranted — although given what he’d done with this information… — if Sunset were to look at what other books he’d checked out of the library, and she meant to do just that, she would probably find that he had at least attempted to trace the descent of Jaune of Gaunt in some way that would connect him to the Arc family. Although how he had done that, considering the desire of Bohemund Arc — had Arc even been his name before he walked out of the woods and founded Alba Longa? Had his parents even named him Bohemund? — to shut the book on his past, Sunset couldn’t say.

She was not entirely sure that she wanted to know.

It was funny; she had suggested this idea as a joke. The two swords had the same name, so wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that they were, in fact, the same sword? Wouldn’t it be funny if Jaune were the heir to the throne of Vale, the way that Pyrrha was the heir to Mistral?

Wouldn’t it be funny?

It was funny, of course, to the extent that it was actually funny, because it was ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that despite her words at the spa, Sunset would never have dared suggest the idea to Lady Nikos. It was absurd to think that Jaune Arc — plain, ordinary Jaune Arc — could be a secret king in hiding. Pyrrha at least had the manners of a princess, the grace and bearing, the courtesy, but Jaune … he was just so normal, so ordinary, it defied belief that he could be more than what he seemed, more than what he was.

Not that there was anything wrong with being ordinary, but one hoped — or certainly, Sunset hoped — that those who were touched by royal blood, those whose brows were graced by a crown, or at least were fitted by their birth and heritage to be so, might be something a little more.

Wouldn’t it be funny?

No, as it turned out, no, it wouldn’t.

Not least because someone had believed in this so strongly that they’d gone out and committed two murders in consequence and had to be put down like a dog by their best friend, which kind of sucked a lot of the humour out of the situation.

It left Sunset feeling a little queasy, to tell the truth.

One might say, of course, and rightly so, that that was just the action of one man, one bitter, lonely man who had — by the testimony of his own friend and partner — not been in the best state of mind to begin with. Everyone knew about Pyrrha’s heritage and nobody had yet gone on a killing spree to try and put her on the throne.

And if one were to say that, Sunset would have to concede that it was fair enough.

Yet even so…

She supposed that she ought to have expected that it would be something like this. It would, after all, have to be something pretty big to drive one man to kill, to drive another to be desperate to keep it a secret. A shady past might make one ashamed, the revelation that your ancestor had been a brigand, a cutthroat, or a pirate might make you desperate to bury the past, but if someone did happen to find out those things, they would hardly drive them to try and break you up with the girl you loved, to kill that girl when persuasion didn’t work, and then turn those weapons upon an elected Councillor.

Although that did raise the question of why Carrot Arc had been so adamant about wanting Crown to keep it quiet. Why? Why had it bothered him so?

Just as importantly, had his grandfather known when he decided to leave his past behind?

Sunset doubted that she would ever know the answer to that — so perhaps it wasn’t that important — but if she had to make a guess on the first question … that was also difficult. Perhaps he simply didn’t want the fuss? Perhaps he wanted a normal life, a life where he was free to go about his business, to do as he wished without people expecting something of him, wanting something of him, requiring something of him? To be free to court Delphi without people insisting that she wasn’t good enough for him.

Perhaps he really didn’t want the throne and hadn’t wanted any excuse for anyone to offer it to him. Perhaps he believed in democracy and wanted to give it a chance to flourish without a king in waiting hanging around like a bad smell.

Perhaps he had been worried about what people might do to keep him off the throne, even if he had not foreseen what Crown would do to get him onto it.

Perhaps … Sunset was a monarchist — she believed in monarchy — but at the same time, she could not help but recall the times when she had stood at Princess Celestia’s side during the Grand Galloping Gala and noticed, as no one who was not as close to the princess as she had been would notice, the tiredness on her face, the weariness in her eyes as she greeted an endless parade of little ponies come to kiss her hoof.

Indeed, for all that there could have been and could be no better ruler for Equestria than Princess Celestia, nevertheless, Sunset had sometimes thought that her old teacher did not actually enjoy the exercise of government very much. Perhaps Carrot Arc had had a vision of his future and recoiled from it.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; all unknowables, the secrets of the souls of men long dead and dust.

Sunset could not say what they had intended, these men who had lived generations earlier.

Nor, more to the point, could she say entirely what she intended now.

Of course, this was not proof. It was a drawing of a sword, a drawing made when the sword itself had been lost — although the accuracy of the drawing suggested it was based on earlier illustrations drawn from the life — and, thanks to Cinder, Crocea Mors would probably not resemble itself quite so much when it had been reforged.

And even if one were satisfied that they were, in fact, the same sword, well, it was a sword, after all. Sunset bore Soteria, but that did not make her a Nikos or a Kommenos. Blades could pass from one hand to the other; who was to say how the Arcs had come by it? It would take more than that to prove that Jaune Arc was the descendant of Jaune of Gaunt, and even if he were, the Gaunt claim to the Valish throne — resting as it did upon the marriage of Gaunt’s son, Hal, to his cousin Philippa, a granddaughter of Edward Farstrider via his second son, Lionel, thus making Hal and Philippa’s son a descendant of King Edward from both his second and fourth sons — had been contested even when it had been pressed, and there was no legal or historical consensus on whether or not descent through the female line ‘counted’ in succession terms.

But, with the throne vacant, the last king having died childless after already renouncing his power, and with all of the possible claimants being what one might call tenuous in their claims, one could do worse than a descendant of Edward Farstrider, the first king of a united Vale.

But still, not proof. Sunset found herself hoping that Crown D’Eath had found something more than this, if only because a drawing of a sword was a poor reason to take two lives.

She checked the ledgers, sweeping over the pages looking for further instances of Crown D’Eath’s name.

As she had suspected, he had looked at genealogies, no doubt tracing the descent of the line of Gaunt and seeing if he could make it meet up in the middle with the line of Arc … somehow.

Presumably, he had done that to his own satisfaction, and done so to sufficient extent that Carrot Arc’s reaction had been to tell him to keep it to himself instead of laughing it off or pointing out mistakes.

Nevertheless, Sunset wasn’t sure that she wanted to know exactly how he had done that.

Just as she wasn’t sure what she was going to do next.

Jaune Arc, the heir to the throne of Vale.

Possibly, at least. Maybe more than possibly, if she were to look into it as Crown had, if she were to retrace his steps up to the point there started to be blood in the footprints.

And then what? Tell Lady Nikos? That, after all, was the entire point of the exercise. Not to put Jaune on the throne, not to satisfy Sunset’s curiosity, not to tell Jaune himself anything about his past, but to prove to Lady Nikos that here was a man whose birth made him worthy of her daughter.

Tell Lady Nikos that a sword, and a drawing of a sword, and possibly some genealogical research made Jaune a claimant to the Valish throne. And then … what? Sunset was not above the idea of a little deception of Lady Nikos for the sake of Jaune and Pyrrha — she owed Lady Nikos much, and liked her more than Pyrrha did, but she owed more loyalty to Pyrrha and Jaune than she did to her noble patron, and in any case, she thought that a lie that would help Lady Nikos save face in the salons and drawing rooms of Mistral, a lie that would help her retreat from her hostility to Jaune with some shreds of dignity intact, was precisely what Lady Nikos had been looking for — but she would not have told this particular lie, for all that she joked about it. She would not have told that lie because it was too obvious a lie, the sort of lie that would be instantly disbelieved by all, the sort of lie that would compound Lady Nikos’ humiliations in society instead of relieving them.

The sort of lie that would not help matters.

Truth though it might be, Sunset couldn’t see how this would help matters either. Yes, if Jaune had a claim on the Valish throne, that would make him a fitting consort to the Princess Without a Crown, but the problem was that … well, it sounded like a lie. It sounded like a barefaced lie, the kind that provoked instant scepticism.

Which meant it sort of defeated the object of the exercise.

What was Sunset supposed to do? Tell Lady Nikos, who could tell it to all her friends — or at least her acquaintances amongst Mistral’s noble families — and then have Jaune’s life and the lives of his family turned upside down as people turned over his family history to confirm it?

A fine team leader she would be to subject him to that.

It occurred to Sunset that, if more people did head up to Alba Longa and start poking around Jaune’s family history, then there was a chance that Ruben’s faked photos and the whole business of Pyrrha apparently kissing another man might come out.

After all, recent events were proving that there was some audience for people who wanted a reason or an excuse to think ill of Pyrrha.

The more Sunset thought about it, the more Sunset found that there were plenty of reasons to keep quiet about all of this and, really, very few reasons not to.

Saying anything, even if she were to wait until she had as much evidence as Crown D’Eath had had … what good would it do Jaune, or Pyrrha, or even Lady Nikos?

It might help Jaune to be known as somebody when he and Pyrrha inevitably went to live in Mistral, but again, to be known as someone who had tried to pretend to be somebody might be even worse than being thought a nobody.

And that was even without getting into the issue of just to what extent, if at all, Lady Nikos deserved to have her pride salved in such a way after how she’d behaved.

Sunset blinked. That was definitely a Pyrrha thought, one left over from Sunset’s use of her semblance upon her.

Even so, what was not a Pyrrha thought was the possibility that, Pyrrha having made her choice, Lady Nikos should just accept it with as much grace as she could muster. Sometimes, after all, you simply had to bow before the inevitable, and the love that Pyrrha had for Jaune, the love that they shared, was as inevitable as the tide.

And that was before you circled right back around to the fact that someone had killed over this. Someone had killed, and someone had died.

At some point, the footsteps she was following had blood in them.

Sunset was Lady Nikos’ … her client, you might say, after the old meaning. Lady Nikos was her patron and her benefactor. But Jaune and Pyrrha were Sunset’s teammates and her friends; she was their leader, and she was bound to them by ties of loyalty, honour, one might even say duty.

One might say that she had already taken her loyalty to Jaune and Pyrrha too far, but that being the case, taking it to the extent of keeping this little secret didn’t seem like such a big deal.

In fact, it seemed downright harmless. Especially when one considered the alternative.

Pyrrha had not fallen in love with a prince. Well, quite possibly she had, and even moreso when you added in the possible metaphorical meanings of the word, but leave that alone for now, and just … she hadn’t fallen in love with a prince, okay? She had fallen in love with a nice boy, who she thought maybe could be a prince with her help.

That was all she wanted, and it wasn’t as if Jaune was consumed with a burning desire to know all the secrets of his past either.

If neither of them wanted to know, then … what profit in bringing it up?

And when you considered that the generations of Arc men who came before had intentionally — in Carrot’s case, at least, Bohemund’s motives being opaque — wanted to keep this a secret, well then … who was Sunset Shimmer to argue?

It wasn’t as though she was committed to the principle of absolute truth, after all. She had no issue with secrets; she only disagreed with whether some secrets ought to be kept.

That being the case…

Sunset shut the book. Let it lie and let Lady Nikos suffer her disappointment. No doubt, like a true aristocrat, she would bear it stoically.

Else Sunset would have to bear her disappointment.

She put the book back on the shelf, put the ledgers back where Tukson could find them, and stepped outside to get out her scroll.

Sunset was about to call Lady Nikos, when she started to wonder if it might seem a little premature. After all, it had only been this morning that she had told Lady Nikos that she still had leads to pursue.

So she would let it lie for a little while, and then tell Lady Nikos that she had come up empty.

That way she wouldn’t be seen — or presumed — to have intentionally slacked off.

She kept her scroll out, though, because there was someone else, another keeper of secrets, to whom she wanted to send a message.

Sunset opened up her device and messaged Professor Ozpin, asking if the team might not have a moment of his time that evening.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, as she stepped through the doorway and back into the dorm room.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Ruby said from where she and Jaune sat at the desk that ran along the wall; their heads had been bowed, huddled together upon their work, but now, Ruby looked up at her. “How did it go with Yang?”

Pyrrha blinked. “She hasn’t been to see you?”

Ruby’s face fell. “No. No, she hasn’t.”

“In which case, she’s probably waiting for you to apologise,” Pyrrha said. “And … in all honesty, Ruby, it’s hard to argue that you shouldn’t, but I’m sure that she will be in a receptive mood to hear your apology.”

“But I still have to say I’m sorry,” Ruby muttered.

“You did keep some things from her which she had a right to know,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Only because Professor Ozpin—”

“I know,” Pyrrha assured her. “I know, and I do not deny that you were put in a difficult position. But from Yang’s perspective … I think that to come to you would be tantamount to an admission that she was wrong in her upset and her reactions, and that … that is not a step that she is prepared to take.”

“Come on, Ruby,” Jaune added. “Is it really that hard to tell her your sorry?”

“Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean that I like doing it,” Ruby grumbled. “But … I guess it isn’t. And you think if I do that then it’ll all be over.”

“I am sure it will,” Pyrrha assured her. “Yang … your sister loves you very much.”

Ruby nodded. “Okay then,” she said. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

This apparently did not mean that she would go and talk to Yang right this instant, because she made no move to get up from her chair next to Jaune.

Pyrrha took a few more steps into the dorm room. “How are you two getting on?”

“Pretty well, I think,” Jaune said, turning his chair around on the carpet so that he was facing her. “I’m going to keep my sword basically the way it is, so that all of the training that we’ve been doing so far isn’t wasted, but I’m also going to incorporate dust to give myself more options.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “That makes sense.”

She only used dust in the most ordinary way, as a propellant; she’d found that she had no more use for it than that, and in any case, it would have been very hard to incorporate additional uses into her fighting style; she couldn’t imagine any way in which she could have used dust based on the way she fought now. But Jaune, still at the beginning of his journey as he was in so many ways, was still free to make that choice and make that move if he so wished, and since he was not so well trained as she was, the addition of dust’s power — and its versatility — might be a boon for him.

“Are you going to augment the sword and the shield or just the sword?”

“Just the sword,” Jaune explained. “I thought about upgrading the shield too, but it didn’t really work out when we were throwing ideas around. But with Ruby’s help, I think that I’ll be able to use the sword to project fire dust, or ice, or the most common types of dust that I could get hold of easily and at the right price.”

“You don’t have to worry about the money,” Pyrrha told him. “I could—”

“I don’t want to mooch off you,” Jaune said.

“We’re in a relationship; it’s hardly … mooching,” Pyrrha said, the word sounding a little strange on her tongue.

“But the more expensive kinds of dust are also the harder to come by,” Jaune pointed out. “I don’t want to rely on something that I can’t get hold of.”

That was a very good point, a very wise point. “Yes, you’re right, of course,” Pyrrha said. In any case, she didn’t want to push him on this particular subject, not when there might have to be some pushing of a different sort in just a moment.

She looked around the dorm room. There was no sign of Sunset, there was obviously no sign of Sunset, and yet in any case, Pyrrha asked, “Sunset isn’t back yet?”

“No, not yet,” Jaune said. “Did you want her?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted, “but it might be easier to begin without her.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as much as her tight cuirass would allow. “After I spoke to Yang, I gave some thought to my situation with the allegations made by … by Phoebe.”

“You agree that it was her?” Jaune asked.

“I ran into her on the way to speak to Yang,” Pyrrha said.

“Did she admit it?” asked Ruby.

“Not in as many words,” Pyrrha replied. “In any case, even if the allegations were made by someone else, it really doesn’t matter, because I have decided what I am … what I can do about them.”

“Really?” Ruby asked. “What is it?”

Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed on Jaune, even as her right hand began to play with the vambrace upon her left arm. “I … I intend … I mean to challenge Cinder, publicly, to single combat. This will, I hope, prove that we are not on the same side. How can we be, if I am willing to duel her to the death?”

She was quite glad that Sunset wasn’t in the room at the moment — for all that it meant that she would have to do this over again — because she was reasonably certain that Sunset’s reaction would have been very loud. Instead, in the dorm room at this moment, there was silence.

Although, as the silence went on, Pyrrha found that she wasn’t sure if that was actually that much better.

“Jaune?” she murmured.

Jaune did not meet her eyes. He did, however, get to his feet. One hand rested upon the wooden surface of the desk.

“'Publicly'?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Pyrrha replied, “that I’m going to make a video containing my challenge — as well as a denial of all the allegations — and ask for Arslan’s help getting it on the news. She has a few media connections that I’m hoping she will let me make use of.”

“In Vale?” asked Jaune.

“No, in Mistral,” Pyrrha said. “It’s important — to me, at least — that people in my home know what I have done and how I have responded to this.”

“That won’t help it reach Cinder, though, will it?” Jaune pointed out.

The fact that he was concerned that her message might not reach its intended recipient gave Pyrrha hope that he was not completely and adamantly opposed to the idea.

“I was just going to send it to the news programs here in Vale and hope that they found it interesting enough to play it,” she admitted. After all, as far as she was aware, Arslan didn’t have any connections here in Vale, so there wasn’t much else that she could do.

“They probably will,” Jaune said quietly, “just because it’s such a strange thing to happen. I mean, it’s not very often these days that you get someone wanting to air their challenge to a duel on TV.”

His words might have been amusing, but there was no trace of amusement in his voice. Overall, Pyrrha was left confused about what he thought.

“I … I know that I made you a promise,” Pyrrha said, “and I know that if I were to have simply done this thing, then I would have been breaking that promise, but … two people cannot fight in single combat, any more than two people can fight in the one on one round of the Vytal Festival—”

“Nobody dies in the Vytal Festival. It’s not the same thing.”

The words, spoken in a harsh tone, did not come from Jaune. They came from Ruby.

Ruby, who was glaring at Pyrrha with her silver eyes, her silver eyes which shone brightly.

“Ruby—”

“I don’t believe this,” Ruby cut Pyrrha off, her voice rising. “After the way that you’ve treated me? After the way that you’ve talked to me?”

“Ruby—”

“All those times when I was willing to give my life, it was for something!” Ruby cried, leaping up off her seat. “It was for the greater good, it was for Vale, it was for innocent civilian lives; what are you prepared to die for, your pride? Your reputation?”

Pyrrha found herself forced to look away. There was, in truth, much force in Ruby’s words; not enough force to sway her from her course, but enough to make her feel somewhat ashamed of herself and her past conduct.

“I have to do this,” she said softly.

“Why?” Ruby demanded. “Why does it matter so much what other people think about you that you’d risk your life fighting Cinder, alone, when you don’t have to?”

“Cinder is our enemy,” Pyrrha pointed out. “If I have the opportunity to kill her—”

“Yes, we’d be better off if she were gone, and so would Remnant,” Ruby agreed, “but you’re not talking about hunting her down as a team, or even finding out where she is so that we can tell Professor Ozpin or General Ironwood and they can take care of her; you’re talking about fighting her all by yourself. It’s Mistr—” She cut herself off this time, covering her mouth with one hand.

Despite herself, Pyrrha found a slight smile playing upon the corners of her lips. “Don’t hold back on my account,” she said.

Ruby blinked. “It’s Mistralian nonsense,” she said.

“Yes, yes, I suppose it is,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, I suppose that many of our traditions must seem like nonsense to those who are not raised in them.”

“It’s a waste,” Ruby insisted. “What you’re talking about is just wasteful. It’s one thing to die for something — that’s something that we should all be ready to do as huntsmen — but to die for nothing? To die because you’re too stubborn not to, because you’re too proud … that’s a waste of … of your life and of all the good that you could do.”

“Did not Olivia die for her pride?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes, but I never said that she was right about that; you just assumed I agreed with her and then gave me a hard time about it!” Ruby snapped.

“For which I owe you an apology, clearly,” Pyrrha murmured, “but this isn’t just about my pride, Ruby, or my reputation. If that were all that were at stake, then I would agree with you that it did not justify what I am proposing.”

Ruby frowned. “Then what is it about?”

“Me,” Pyrrha said. “My place in all of this and the feeling that I am … I don’t belong here,” she admitted.

Ruby’s frown only deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have your silver eyes, with which you can vanquish whole grimm armies in a moment!” Pyrrha cried. “I don’t have Sunset’s magic, which seems to constantly grow stronger and more versatile. I do not even have a semblance which lets me act as an invaluable support to my teammates. I am … I am a warrior. A skilled warrior, perhaps, but what of that? It is clear why Professor Ozpin chose Sunset, why he chose you, but I … Professor Ozpin could find a dozen in the halls of this school who can do the things that I can do.”

“You don’t need magic to play your part,” Ruby declared.

“With respect, Ruby, that is easy to say when you have magic,” Pyrrha replied.

“The first Maidens didn’t need magic to save the old wizard,” Ruby pointed out.

“And then they were rewarded with great magical power so that they might save the world,” Pyrrha responded. “But if there is one thing that I can do… if I can vanquish Salem’s champion, then at least I will prove to myself I have a part to play. You speak of waste? The waste will be if I refuse an opportunity to lay these doubts to rest and instead let them fester until they consume me. Then I will be no good to you or anyone else.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “You … you really feel useless?”

“Or something close to it,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“For how long?”

“It started after we found out the truth about Salem,” Pyrrha replied. “It got worse after Mountain Glenn.”

“I see,” Ruby murmured. “I think you’re wrong, but I see. But all the same—”

“I don’t like this,” Jaune said, cutting Ruby off, although whether that was his intent or it had simply taken him that long to find something to say, Pyrrha could not tell.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha murmured.

“I don’t like this,” Jaune repeated. He looked at her, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. “But … but you’ve always believed in me, so now … when you need someone to believe in you, how can I not be that person? If you think that you can beat Cinder one on one, then go for it. No one has the right to stand in your way.”

It was the best response from him that she could have hoped for, and although Pyrrha had not been holding her breath, nevertheless, she felt a breath escaping her, a sigh of relief falling from her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The door into the dorm room opened with a click, and the person who might feel as though she had a right to stand in Pyrrha’s way walked in, head bowed, looking down at the scroll she was holding in one hand.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset glanced up at her, one hand reaching for the door. “Hey, Pyrrha,” she muttered. “How, um, how did it go with Yang?”

“Well enough, I think,” Pyrrha answered. “I believe that if Ruby—”

“Pyrrha’s going to challenge Cinder to a duel!” Ruby cried.

“Ruby,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully, glancing at Ruby over her shoulder.

“I might not be able to talk you out of this, but Sunset can,” Ruby declared.

Sunset herself slammed the door shut with an audible crack. “I must be getting wax in my ears,” she said in a voice that was as sharp as Soteria, “because I could have sworn that I just heard Ruby say you were going to challenge Cinder to a duel. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

“It … might seem so, if you were not a Mistralian,” Pyrrha admitted, “but nevertheless, that is what I intend.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, she flung her scroll onto her bed, its contents seeming forgotten.

“You … you are going to challenge Cinder to fight you in a duel?” she repeated. “To the death, I presume.”

“I am not sure she would accept any other form of duel,” Pyrrha said. “And we are enemies, after all.”

“I’m aware of that, that’s why…” Sunset trailed off. “Why?”

“To prove to the world that she and I are not colluding together,” Pyrrha said, “and to prove to myself that I can beat her.”

“To prove … this is how you deal with your misgivings?”

“Can you think of a better way?” asked Pyrrha. “You cannot speak away my doubts, but victory … victory will exorcise them all. If I can best her, I need not doubt my worth. If Cinder is worthy to serve Salem and I am her superior in arms, then … how can my right be doubted?”

“None doubt it now but you,” Sunset pointed out.

“None need be more free of doubt in this than I,” Pyrrha replied.

Sunset frowned. “How are you even—?”

“I will issue my challenge publicly, on the news,” Pyrrha said. “An unorthodox way of delivering it, to be sure, but I feel it will reach Cinder, and once it reaches her, she will respond.”

“Yes, yes, she certainly will,” Sunset murmured. “This … this is madness. You must realise that, please, tell me that you realise that; I mean … what do you think this is, The Mistraliad?”

“You have yourself—”

“This isn’t like fighting Bolin in the arena over who gets to keep a sword, or the two of us settling our differences while Professor Goodwitch plays referee; we’re talking about life or death here!” Sunset yelled. “Your life … your … your death, maybe.”

“I intend to return alive and victorious,” Pyrrha murmured.

“But you can’t guarantee that you will.”

“Nothing is certain in battle, no,” Pyrrha admitted.

Sunset walked towards her, swiftly closing the distance between them until she could reach out and placed her gloved hands on Pyrrha’s bare shoulders.

The silk was soft on Pyrrha’s skin.

Sunset’s eyes were wide as she looked into Pyrrha’s face. “She hates you,” she whispered. “I have felt her hatred for you.”

“And that hatred is why I shall win,” Pyrrha declared. “Cinder is … strong, yes, swift, undoubtedly, but she has had no training, that is certain. She fights … clumsily, brutally, without skill, and only the fact that she is so strong and so swift allows her to get away with it. But I have been trained by Chiron himself; I am the Champion of Mistral.” For a few more days yet; this year’s tournament would be starting very soon, and she would lose the right to that proud boast forever. “In the open field, with no tricks that she can play, I will prevail.”

‘Virtue ‘gainst Fury shall advance the fight,

And in the combat then shall put to flight,

For the ancient valous is not dead,

Nor in Mistralian hearts extinguished.’

I hope it will be so, at least.

Sunset turned away from her, her tail swishing and flicking behind her. “I must confess, that is more thought than I thought you had put into this,” she conceded.

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset ignored that, cupping her chin with one hand. “I … I don’t want to lose you,” she said, half turning her head to glance at Pyrrha over her shoulder. “But … but, as someone once reminded me not too long ago, people have the right to make their own stupid choices, don’t they, Ruby?”

Ruby made a wordless grumbling sound.

“Mmm, yeah,” Sunset said. She turned back to face Pyrrha once again. “But,” she said, “it may be that I — that we — do not have the right to stop you. But you have pledged yourself into Professor Ozpin’s service; you are at his disposal. He at least should be informed of this, don’t you think?”

Because if you can’t stop me, then he can? Pyrrha thought. Nevertheless, whatever her particular motives might be for this, Sunset was not wrong. She did owe Professor Ozpin her service, which meant that she owed him an explanation before she took this step.

“Very well,” she said. “I will speak to Professor Ozpin.”

“You can do it tonight,” Sunset said, waving one hand, wreathed in green light, as she summoned her scroll off the bed and into her hand. “By a stroke of luck, he has agreed to meet with us.”

“To discuss the Maidens?” Pyrrha asked.

“He doesn’t know that yet, but yes,” Sunset agreed. “Except now you’ll have something else to discuss with him also.”

“I don’t know whether you’ll be glad to know this, although you might be,” Sunset said as the elevator ascended upwards, “but I’ve stopped looking into your family, Jaune.”

The lift continued to rise, carrying the four members of Team SAPR up towards Professor Ozpin’s office. The headmaster had agreed to see them with … well, perhaps it wasn’t remarkable alacrity, but he had certainly shown a surprising willingness, considering that Sunset hadn’t even told him what it was that they wanted to see him about.

He might not feel so willing to talk once they actually got up there and he found out what it was that they wanted to talk about.

Either of the things they wanted to talk about.

But for now, the lift rose up, carrying the four of them within it.

Sunset and Pyrrha stood at the front, with Ruby and Jaune behind; Sunset looked over her shoulder at Jaune, to see how he was taking the news.

He didn’t look particularly upset about it, although he did look a little confused. “But, I thought you said—”

“It didn’t pan out,” Sunset told him. “I thought that there would be something, a trail to follow, but … there wasn’t.” She smirked. “It turns out that you are depressingly ordinary.”

“'Ordinary'?” Pyrrha repeated, reaching behind her to take Jaune’s hand. “No, hardly that.”

“Would you prefer ‘unremarkable’?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha looked at her, eyebrows rising into the recesses of her bangs.

“Just kidding,” Sunset assured. “Nevertheless, the point is … there was nothing to find. You don’t have a notable ancestry that I can uncover.”

“Except for the fact that your father and grandfather were both huntsmen,” Ruby pointed out. “And your great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather both fought to defend the Kingdom of Vale. That’s not nothing. In fact, I’d say that’s pretty cool. Cooler than having rich ancestors or snob ancestors or anything like that. No offence, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “None taken, Ruby; I think that many of my ancestors would agree with you; that is why we of the Nikos family have always striven to earn our great privilege and high status through service in war.” She paused for a moment. “But Ruby speaks the truth, even before you also consider that your great-grandfather founded a town, brought a whole community together.”

“Did he?” Ruby asked. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Jaune shrugged. “It didn’t come up.”

“The point is that you already have plenty of family history to be proud of,” Ruby insisted. “And if Pyrrha’s mom can’t see that, then—”

“My mother may feel as she likes,” Pyrrha declared. “As may I. To be honest, I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’m rather glad that things have turned out this way.”

“'Glad'?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. “This … this may sound a little petty of me,” she confessed, “but I would have, not hated it, but I would certainly have been a little vexed if you had turned out to have a claim upon some ancient lordship or the like, if your family heritage had been such that my mother could have approved of. It would have felt a little as though she had won.”

Despite the fact that, by that logic, there was a sense in which Lady Nikos had won — not that she would ever be aware of it — Sunset couldn’t help but snort. “Would that have been such a bad thing?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “Yes, I rather think it would. Mother … my mother needs to accept my choice. My choice over my life and to whom I give my heart. Having you fortuitously discover for her that my choice aligned with her desires all along would…”

“Defeat the object?” Sunset suggested.

“Jaune is not an object,” Pyrrha replied.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, he isn’t.”

Nevertheless, she felt as though she understood Pyrrha’s meaning, even if the latter couldn’t quite put it into words.

She returned her attention to Jaune, “So, how do you feel about this? I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a title or a claim on a pile of treasure or something.”

Jaune chuckled. “I—”

“Please don’t say something like ‘I already have the greatest treasure I could ask for’ or something,” Sunset begged.

“I mean, it’s true,” Jaune said.

“I know it’s true; doesn’t mean that we have to hear it,” Sunset replied, although she couldn’t help but smile at the colour that appeared on Pyrrha’s cheeks. “Seriously, though, how do you feel about it?”

Jaune shrugged. “I don’t really see that it makes much difference. I’m still me. I guess I would have still been me no matter what you found, but since you didn’t find anything … I’m still me, Jaune Arc. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

Well, you’ll never achieve greatness with an attitude like that, Sunset thought, but it seems to be working out okay for you so far.

And greatness is overrated anyway. Why seek it when you can be happy instead?

“So,” she said, “how do we want to approach this?”

“We ask Professor Ozpin about Maidens,” Ruby said.

“I mean, yes, that is what we’re here to do,” Sunset conceded. “But how?”

Ruby paused for a moment. “We ask him about Maidens,” she said again.

“Ruby is right,” Pyrrha added. “There is no reason not to be direct about this. What other approach could we adopt?”

That was a good point. Still, Sunset said, “Do we want to tell him about Raven?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ruby asked.

“I suppose that’s a ‘yes’ then,” Sunset said. “I just wondered if you wanted to keep it to yourself.”

“He must know already,” Jaune pointed out. “It’s not like Professor Goodwitch wouldn’t have told him.”

“She doesn’t know what Raven said to Ruby and Yang, exactly, but fair enough,” Sunset murmured. She took a deep breath. “Okay, straight up it is, in every sense.”

“Although,” Jaune went on, “what are we actually going to do once we know the truth?”

Sunset glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, say that Professor Ozpin tells us that we’re right, that the Four Maidens are the four girls from the fairy tale and everything else, that Auburn and Merida from Ruby’s Mom’s journal were Maidens … so what? What does it mean for us, what are we supposed to do once we know that?”

“It’s a bit late to bring that up now, I must say,” Sunset replied, “but in answer to your question, we’re not supposed to do anything. We’re supposed to know.”

“To know for what reason?” Jaune asked. “To what end?”

“To the end of understanding,” Pyrrha said, in a voice as gentle as an autumn breeze. “Understanding where the Maidens fit into all else that we already know of, where they fit into this struggle that we are a part of, understanding—”

“Why they’re kept secret,” Sunset said.

“Why they are not used,” Pyrrha replied. “I can understand the secrecy from the rest of Remnant, in the same way that all else is kept secret, but … if Professor Ozpin has four Maidens at his command, why does he need us?”

Sunset frowned. Pyrrha … I really wish that I could have found a way to give you your confidence back that didn’t involve giving Cinder that rematch.

And yet, now that the issue had been raised, Sunset found herself honestly unsure whether she wanted Professor Ozpin to deny Pyrrha’s desire or not. Yes, Pyrrha could die, but Pyrrha believed that she could win, and if she did, then a great shadow would be lifted from her spirit.

And Cinder would be dead.

You can hardly say it isn’t a fate she deserves.

Is that really the point?

If it is not, then … okay, I admit, I don’t really want to see Cinder, but a choice between her and Pyrrha is no choice at all.

I will choose Pyrrha, every time.

Even if Pyrrha chooses to venture beyond my aid.

“Because the Maidens could die,” Ruby said.

“Thanks, Ruby, for making it sound as though we’re expendable,” Sunset said as Ruby’s words recalled her to the present moment.

“I didn’t,” Ruby replied. “That’s not what I … I shouldn’t have said that; it was a terrible choice of words. What I meant was … the worst thing that could happen to us is that we die. The worst thing that could happen to one of the Maidens is that they die and someone like Cinder ends up with their powers. You get how that’s worse, right?”

“Indeed so,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head slightly.

Sunset did not answer; rather, in her silence, she glanced back at Jaune, who also said nothing.

She hoped that he was thinking the same thing she was: worse than Pyrrha being dead, or Ruby?

Judging by the frown on his face, she guessed that he was, if not actively thinking that way, then at the very least considering the possibility.

Fortunately, Ruby took her silence to be implied agreement, or at least to be the absence of active disagreement, and so she didn’t press Sunset — or Jaune, for that matter — upon the point.

But when Sunset thought about their dead bodies, about their lifeless eyes staring, imploring … it didn’t seem obviously better to her than some magical powers going to someone foul.

That wouldn’t be good, obviously, but would it be so much worse as to be worth their lives?

If Sunset could have convinced herself of that, they’d all be dead already.

She was spared from having to think of that any further by the opening of the elevator doors, admitting them into Professor Ozpin’s office. It was dark outside, night having fallen, but the office itself was bathed in a soft green glow which matched Professor Ozpin’s attire as he sat behind his desk.

There were no chairs, nor in this instance was there a pot of cocoa — or anything else — to be seen; there was only Professor Ozpin, sat behind his desk, looking at something on the screen in front of him.

As the four students entered, Professor Ozpin looked up at them; the light was not so bright that his expression could easily be discerned.

The four students spread into a line facing the headmaster: first Sunset, then Ruby, then Pyrrha, then Jaune at the far end.

“Professor,” Sunset said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

“Not at all, and good evening to you,” Professor Ozpin said, his tone light and genial. “Miss Nikos, I’m not sure that I should be meeting with you without a bodyguard present.”

Pyrrha gasped. “Professor, I assure you that whatever is—”

“Forgive me, Miss Nikos, that was an attempt at humour, and clearly a poor one at that,” Professor Ozpin said apologetically. “I should have considered … rest assured, I know where your loyalties lie.”

Pyrrha glanced away, clutching at her right wrist with her left hand. “I … that is good to hear, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin got up. “Does it trouble you?” he asked.

“To be so spoken of, Professor?” Pyrrha asked. “Should it not trouble me? Or do you counsel me that my reputation should be a thing of no concern to me, irrelevant?”

“It may seem like a mere bromide, Miss Nikos, but I do believe that a clear conscience can be a salve against the hostility of the world,” Professor Ozpin said softly. “I myself have found it so, at times.”

Pyrrha looked at him. “Surely … your reputation is beyond reproach, Professor.”

“As you are discovering, Miss Nikos, even a reputation that is beyond reproach can be sullied by gossip and rumour,” Professor Ozpin replied, his voice low, as low as the lights in his office were dim.

Professor Ozpin walked around his desk, approaching the four students, approaching Pyrrha specifically.

Sunset had not quite appreciated how unnaturally tall Professor Ozpin was — he did spend an awful lot of time sitting down — until she saw him closing the distance with Pyrrha and beginning to loom over her.

He reached out and placed a hand upon Pyrrha’s bare shoulder.

“And yet, always, I have found that rumour and gossip melt away in the face of truth revealed in the eyes of the people. When the moment comes to show your quality, as I am sure you will, then all of these lies will be as morning dew, and no one will dare admit to having once believed them.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I … I would have words with you, upon this matter, Professor, but … not now. After our other business is concluded, if you will.”

“Of course, Miss Nikos, you may say whatever you wish, in whatever order you wish,” Professor Ozpin said. He turned away and walked back to his desk, resuming his seat behind it, facing them.

“So,” he said, resting his hands upon the desk, clasped together, “what can I do for you this evening?”

Sunset glanced at Ruby, wondering if she wanted to take the lead — it was, after all, Raven’s visit to her that had started them off on this — but before she could, if she had even wanted to, Pyrrha took a step forward.

“If you will forgive us, Professor,” she said, “we were hoping to talk to you…” — she swallowed — “about Maidens.”

Professor Ozpin did not say anything for a moment. A sigh passed between his lips. “Yes, I thought that this might happen after Glynda told me about Raven’s latest visit. I understand that she gave you the name, but explained nothing.”

“That’s right,” Ruby murmured.

“But we’ve managed to work out a fair amount for ourselves,” Sunset added.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. “Is that so, Miss Shimmer? By all means, then, tell me what you know, or at least believe you know.”

“The Story of the Seasons,” Pyrrha began, “the fairy tale; it is more than just a story, isn’t it, Professor? It is the … the origin of the Maidens. How four women had great power bestowed upon them.”

“But the power did not die with them,” Sunset said. “Rather it was … passed on, somehow, so that there were always four Maidens at any given moment, and someone, whom we guess to be your predecessor, would find them and teach them and send them out into the world to do good works.”

“Just as the old man in the fairytale had charged the original sisters to share their gifts with the world,” Pyrrha murmured.

“But it didn’t last,” Sunset continued. “The Dark Mother — Salem, almost certainly — convinced the first Red Queen to kill one of the Maidens and take the power for herself.”

“She used it to strike down my ancestor, the Empress of Mistral, and ruled the city for a while as a tyrant,” Pyrrha said. “Until she died.”

“But by that point, the Maidens were being hunted down and killed for their powers all over Remnant,” Sunset said. “Until someone hunted down and killed the … the Red Queens. That was the work of this circle again, wasn’t it, Professor? Our predecessors, and yours, killed the Maidens, and I’m guessing they possibly became the new Maidens themselves in consequence. Either way, at that point, this group decided to start hiding them away.”

“So that they could be kept safe, and Salem’s agents couldn’t get to them,” Jaune added.

“Auburn and Merida, whom my mother and father met,” Ruby said. “They were Maidens, weren’t they?”

“And the woman who saved Twilight Sparkle and her family when they were attacked by grimm upon the road,” Sunset said. “Although … if the Maidens are allowed to interfere in such a way, I’m not sure why there aren’t more such stories.”

“With no insult intended to Miss Sparkle, that is not the kind of behaviour that I would have condoned,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “However, the Winter Maiden has always been possessed of a certain rebellious spirit.”

“The girl who sat outside the cottage, meditating and contemplating?” Pyrrha asked. “Rebellious?”

“An excellent point, Miss Nikos; that is a very poor choice of words,” Professor Ozpin allowed. “Say rather … after a certain point, the Winter Maiden acquired a greater sense of pride than dwells in the others; in consequence, they have often chafed more against the authority of the leaders of this circle than the others have.”

“I see,” Sunset said softly, even though she didn’t really. “So … how did we do, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Eight out of ten,” he said.

“Are you going to tell us what we got wrong, Professor?” Jaune asked.

“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin said, reminding Sunset a little bit of why she hadn’t liked him very much at first. “It may be easiest to begin at the end. Miss Rose, you were correct in all but one minor detail: Auburn and Merida were not both Maidens when I sent your parents and Team Stark on that mission. Auburn was, as you have correctly surmised, the Fall Maiden, but Merida did not become so until Auburn’s death, not long after the mission.”

“Merida was … her successor?” Sunset asked. “You knew that already?”

“There are ways of ensuring it,” Professor Ozpin said, although he did not elaborate upon what those ways might be. “I wanted Auburn to be escorted to meet with Merida, and it seemed like a good opportunity to have someone whom I trusted evaluate Team Stark and their fitness to become a part of this struggle. I even considered if perhaps either Summer Rose or Raven Branwen might become a worthy Maiden themselves one day.”

“The Fall Maiden,” Pyrrha said. “And the Winter Maiden. So those were the names of the four sisters: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall?”

Professor Ozpin rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back as he turned away from the students and walked towards the window. An Atlesian cruiser glided past, but from what Sunset could see of his reflection, Professor Ozpin seemed irritated by the stately motion of the airship, perhaps because it blocked his view out over Vale.

“Is that one of your favourite fairytales, Miss Nikos?” he asked.

“It is,” Pyrrha murmured. “It is kind and gentle, and it reminds us that it is never too late to reach out to someone … or to be reached out to.”

In his reflection in the glass, it almost seemed as if Professor Ozpin smiled. “Indeed, Miss Nikos, and what a valuable lesson that is.”

“Where did the magic come from, Professor?” Sunset asked.

“Does it matter, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked calmly. “Not from where you might think, or where you might fear, if that is your concern. The magic of the Maidens is nought to do with your world. Suffice to say that … that once upon a time, there was a wizard, an old man of great power but rather less wisdom … and still less resolve. He had lived long and suffered much; he had … suffered losses which hurt him, so that he preferred isolation to the possibility of pain’s return.”

“Until he met the four sisters,” Pyrrha said.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Indeed. Four sisters who just so happened to agree to rendezvous outside his cottage. Four sisters travelling Remnant, helping those in need however they could. Four sisters who taught him … so much that he had forgotten.”

“This story is passed down through your ranks, isn’t it, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Do you have his own account?”

Professor Ozpin glanced over his shoulder at her. “In a manner of speaking, Miss Shimmer, that is correct.” He paused for a moment. “The four sisters not only reinvigorated the wizard’s passion for life, but also by their actions, by their journey, his passion for doing good in the world. And yet, he saw in them, in their virtues, in their success, something that was superior to anything he now recognized in himself. And so—”

“And so he gave up his power, bestowing it upon the sisters instead,” Pyrrha said. “Because he recognized that they were worthy of it. I’m sorry, Professor; I—”

“Quite alright, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “And quite correct. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, the four sisters, and the four Maidens who from that day down to this have borne their names.”

“Why, Professor?” Ruby asked. “I mean, the four sisters in the fairy tale, they didn’t need their magic to help the old man, the wizard. It didn’t take magic to reach out to him, or to get him out of his house, or to show him to be thankful for the things that he had. What were they supposed to do as Maidens that they couldn’t do as just four ordinary girls?”

“Lead, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “Having bestowed his magic upon the four sisters, and despite having extracted from them all a promise that they would return and visit him again, the wizard left his cottage behind and returned to the world that he had turned his back upon. He founded this circle, took up the leadership of it, and gathered a few trusted, brave, like-minded individuals to stand with him and help him defend Remnant against the malice of Salem. But we work in shadows, and in secrecy, as you know. That was not the role he meant for the Maidens.

“You are correct, Miss Rose, that the original sisters had not needed magic in order to be kind or generous, in order to teach the aged wizard how to laugh once more. Or at least, they had not needed the magic that he bestowed upon them. But, though, as they were, they could help others whom they met upon their journeys, they could not command devotion, inspire loyalty, teach whole peoples by the spread of their word.

“An army is a symbol of strength, but also of conflict, for it is only conflict that creates the necessity of armies. A warrior can be a symbol of protection, but they are also symbols of violence, no matter who or what that violence is directed against; the very fact that they bear lethal weapons makes it so. But a Maiden, imbued with magic of many uses, able to fight but not existing for fighting … a Maiden could be a symbol of hope. It was the wizard’s intention that while he and his allies worked in the shadows, the four Maidens would be the light.”

“But it didn’t work out that way,” Jaune said. “Because … because of Salem.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said, in a voice that sounded more sad than angry. “Because of Salem. As you have guessed, Miss Shimmer, when the sources speak of the Dark Mother, they do, indeed, refer to Salem. It was she who first put into the head of a murderous bandit that she might acquire the powers of a Maiden by waylaying and murdering one of the Maidens, stealing and abusing the magic until what was meant to be a symbol of hope and inspiration became instead a symbol of terror and dominion.” Professor Ozpin’s voice shook. “Can you imagine, had the wizard lived long enough, how he would have felt, how he would have wept inside, to see his dream, his beautiful gift, perverted so by wicked, bloodstained hands?”

No, I cannot, but Princess Celestia might, Sunset thought, as she looked away. For if any has lived long enough to see such times, it is she.

Pyrrha clasped her hands together above her heart. “It must have been heartbreaking,” she whispered.

Professor Ozpin did not answer her. Rather, he said, “And so, as the power of the Maidens fell into the hands of evil, so, too, it fell to my predecessor to act. The Maidens had never been part of this circle’s struggle against Salem, but in addition to all other duties, it had been the responsibility of the head of this group to seek out new Maidens, to train them, and to instruct them in the duties that had been bestowed upon them. Now, as those unworthy to receive such a gift abused it, it was his responsibility to … to protect the world. Gathering his allies, he set out, and one by one, the unworthy Maidens were brought low, the powers passing into hands more worthy and trustworthy both alike.”

“And then he hid them away,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin turned to face her, to face all of them. “Do I detect a note of disapproval in your voice, Miss Shimmer?”

“Is disapproval such a strange response, Professor?” Sunset asked. “You said it yourself; the Maidens were intended to be the light, but you — or your predecessors, but you have continued their policy — have taken light out of the world. By your own words, you would rather the Winter Maiden had not stirred to rescued Twilight Sparkle and her family—”

“One girl’s life, however intelligent, however kind, however well-beloved she may be,” Professor Ozpin said, “or even the lives of a single family … they can never be worth more than exposing the secrets of the Maidens once again to the world, to Salem.”

I think that Rainbow Dash, for one, would disagree with you, Sunset thought. In the specific, if not the general.

“I do not believe it is worth the cost, Professor,” Sunset said.

“Does the past not clearly illustrate why the Maidens must be kept secret, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked. “If Salem’s agents—”

“Then guard them, Professor,” Sunset declared, taking a step forward. “Set a constant escort upon them as they got about their work, such as would attend upon the kings of old, but this … to hide them?”

“They are not confined in cloistered spaces, Sunset,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Auburn was free to go to seek out Merida, and the Winter Maiden was free to intervene to aid Twilight, as much as Professor Ozpin might disapprove.”

“I am not suggesting that they have been imprisoned,” Sunset clarified, “but even if they have their liberty … what good is their magic if all they do with it is hold onto it for fear of someone worse getting their hands on it?”

“That’s not the worst thing that they could do with it,” Jaune said.

“Yes,” Sunset snapped, “yes, it is. Magic that is not used is magic that may as well not exist at all, and worse than that, because they have to keep themselves safe and hidden, they’re not even allowed to use the non-magical gifts that they might possess. It’s like the four sisters not only hiding the magic that had been given to them, but also not even being able to help anyone the way that they helped the old man, because even letting them out of the house is too risky.”

“What would you have me do, Miss Shimmer?” asked Professor Ozpin. “What would you have the Maidens do?”

“All that they were empowered to do,” Sunset said. “Lead, inspire, encourage, illuminate; even my own people, who are, I daresay, spiritually superior to men in every way—”

“You dare say,” Jaune said dryly.

Sunset put one hand on her hip. “My people were not tearing our world to pieces in an existential war just four generations ago, so, yes, we are superior, excuse you.” She returned her attention to Professor Ozpin. “But even we, even my people, of whom I am, I must concede, a poor example of the qualities of which I boast, even we require … exemplars. Paragons. Those who are raised, literally elevated into the skies, to whom all the rest who walk upon the ground may look up and see that here is the essence of virtue, here is an example to heed and to follow.” She paused for a moment. “When the wizard bestowed the powers upon the first Maidens, did he know that they would endure following their deaths?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I am not entirely sure, Miss Shimmer; that particular detail is not recorded,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, leaving aside the egregious flaw that one may kill a Maiden to obtain a Maiden’s powers,” Sunset said, “it strikes me the system of transfer, the system of ascension, is more fundamentally flawed still by the fact that powers can be bestowed before she on whom they are bestowed has done aught to earn them. To become an alicorn, as close as we have to what a Maiden was meant to be, one must first walk the path, one must demonstrate an understanding — a great and unparalleled understanding — of that which you will become princess of, one must do as those first four sisters did and earn the power and status that will accrue to you through virtue and accomplishment. The wizard blessed those sisters because they had earned a blessing and proved to him that they were worthy to wield his power … and yet, none of their successors are subject to such a test; it is just given to them. Even leaving aside Salem’s malice and her interference, it is a miracle that no Maiden proved unworthy of her office even before the murders started.”

Again, Professor Ozpin took pause before replying, “I will not deny that your point has some validity, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “And yet, I think you will agree that it is a little too late to do anything about it now.”

Sunset sighed. “I suppose so, Professor.”

“As for your other point,” Professor Ozpin went on, “I see the force in what you say, I believe that you believe it, but … I must admit that I am not convinced. My predecessors have kept the Maidens secret these many years and in secrecy … in secrecy, they have been kept safe. I will not risk … I will not take the risks that would accrue from changing that.”

He sat back down at his chair, behind his desk. “I do not begrudge having come by this information; you have thought about the information set before you, and you have drawn your conclusions from it; you have, in many ways, shown yourselves to be model students.” He chuckled softly. “Nevertheless, I hope that you understand that I do not propose to reveal the identities or the locations of the Maidens to you at this time, and I hope that I can count on your discretion in keeping these details to yourselves.”

“Does that include Team Rosepetal, Professor?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment. “You may tell your Atlesian friends what you have learned, what we have discussed here tonight. And Miss Belladonna also.”

Well, I was kind of including her as part of Team RSPT, but thank you anyway.

“We will not tell a soul else, Professor,” Pyrrha vowed.

“Thank you, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied. “This information … even without the danger posed by Salem, if people knew that there existed in the world such great power … they would seek to use it, to take it for themselves, as the Red Queens did of old.”

“You don’t trust people to do the right thing?” Ruby asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“If all of the people could be trusted to do the right thing, to turn away from temptation, to renounce wrath, vengeance, or the desire for power, then Salem would have no followers, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin. “I believe in people, but it is naïve to forget that there are always a few in whom that faith is misplaced.” He paused. “Nevertheless, thank you for keeping my confidence. The time may come when you are ready to know more, but for now, I would bid you goodnight, save that Miss Nikos has something else she wishes to discuss with me.”

“Yes, Professor, thank you,” Pyrrha murmured, taking a step forwards ahead of the others. “It is about … the issue that you brought up earlier, the allegations made against me. I … I should like to answer them by challenging Cinder Fall to meet me in battle and thus prove to the world that she and I have no connection to one another but an adversarial one.

“I mean,” she said, speaking quickly as though she were afraid that if she stopped and allowed Professor Ozpin to speak, he might not let her finish, “to issue my challenge via the news in Vale, to ensure that it reaches Cinder, and in Mistral, to ensure that it reaches all those who might otherwise think ill of me. I believe that Cinder will accept, and I hope that she will reach out to Sunset as she did before our mission to Mountain Glenn, to arrange the location and time of our meeting.”

Professor Ozpin said nothing for a moment. What little light there was in the office glinted off his spectacles, momentarily concealing his eyes from view.

“I see,” he murmured. “That is … an interesting notion, Miss Nikos. May I ask, is this entirely for the purpose of protecting your reputation in Mistral?”

“No, Professor, I am not so vain as that,” Pyrrha replied. “But I am … I am…”

“You are troubled,” Professor Ozpin said.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Yes, Professor. I feel … I feel as though I have little to contribute compared to my teammates.”

“Because you do not have magic, as they do?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Pyrrha looked up. “Precisely, Professor.”

“Miss Nikos, before Summer Rose arrived in Vale, these eyes of mine had never gazed upon a Silver-Eyed Warrior,” Professor Ozpin told her. “I knew of them, the knowledge had been passed down to me, but I assumed — as did my predecessors — that they were extinct, that Salem had hunted them down and killed them all. Of Equestrian servants, I have had none until Miss Shimmer; most visitors from her world have been more pain than blessing to Remnant, I must say. And yet, for these many years past, we of this little circle have held the line against Salem with nought but the same kind of skill and courage you possess.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “That may be so, Professor,” she conceded, “but nevertheless … perhaps it is vanity. Perhaps it is the fact that I have not covered myself in glory fit to match my elevated view of myself, but nevertheless … I do not feel … I must do this, not only — not even mostly — for the sake of my reputation here or in Mistral, but for the sake of my confidence. I wish to prove myself to myself, is that so ill?”

“No, Miss Nikos, there is nothing ill in it,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “In some ways, I suppose it is the most natural thing in the world, for all that the trappings of Mistralian honour make it seem strange and unusual.” He paused for a moment. “So … you will allow Miss Fall to choose the time and place of the contest?”

“That is the way, Professor,” Pyrrha explained. “I make the challenge, so she may set the terms.”

“Have you considered that she may take this opportunity to lure you into a trap, Miss Nikos?”

“I’m not sure that I’m worth the effort, Professor, but in any case … no, I don’t think so,” Pyrrha replied. “For whatever it may be worth, we are both Mistralians.”

“Some might call that a slender reed to cling to,” Professor Ozpin observed.

“Professor,” Pyrrha said, “I am at your service, and so if you tell me that you do not wish me to take this course, I will, of course, obey.”

“And in obedience, your sense of self will wither,” Professor Ozpin said. “No, Miss Nikos, I am not in the habit of acting as a general or a lord. I am the head of this organisation, but you are not mine to dispose of as I will. Certainly, I am not in the habit of … denying choice. I hope that you would not propose this course if you had no hope of victory, Miss Nikos.”

“No, Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “I mean yes, Professor, I mean … I believe I can defeat her.”

Professor Ozpin nodded slightly. He looked away from Pyrrha, away from all of them. “I sincerely hope that you are right, Miss Nikos,” he said in a voice that was so soft that Sunset had to strain to hear him. Soft and … wistful? It hardly seemed appropriate, but that was what Sunset heard in his voice.

“There is,” he went on, “the complication that duelling is illegal here in Vale, and has been for some time.”

“Duelling is illegal,” Pyrrha allowed. “But fighting against an enemy is not.”

“Some might say that the distinction becomes rather muddled when one is issuing public challenges on public television,” Professor Ozpin said, a touch of amusement creeping into his voice, “but if there are any consequences, I daresay that we’ll manage to muddle through somehow.”

He got up from his chair. “In times like these, I believe the customary phrase is ‘come back with your shield or on it.’ Obviously, Miss Nikos, that you should come back victorious is greatly to be preferred, but … shield or no, I’m sure that everyone here would prefer that you just come back alive.”

Re-Forged (Rewrite)

Reforged

The armoury of Beacon Academy was located on the far edge of the campus, where the noise of the machining and the machinery could not disturb the air, or more importantly, the students. It was past the farm, with its clucking chickens and the goat whom Sunset kept an eye on as they passed, and getting there involved following a path which was sometimes gravel and sometimes just plain dirt, before the team arrived at last at their destination.

The armoury was a tallish building, but shaped in a way that made it seem kind of squat all the same; the walls leaned inwards a little, so that the armoury narrowed towards the top like some kind of chimney stack. It was black, unlike the grey stone of most of the other buildings at Beacon, and the windows were only translucent, so that you couldn't see much on the other side of them except colours: hot colours, bright reds and oranges, as if an inferno were blazing away inside.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to do this, Pyrrha?” Jaune asked as they approached. “I mean, I know that you—”

“My honour is not so important as your sword,” Pyrrha assured him. “I’m sure that Cinder will not begrudge me this slight tardiness.”

The doors were metal and locked, but Ruby — who was in the lead — held up her scroll to swipe it over a scanner mounted into the black wall, and both the metal doors swung open inwards, like the entrance to a creepy old temple opening up to lure in unwary treasure hunters.

Walking inside, all four members of Team SAPR found themselves upon a metal walkway suspended over a sharp drop downwards to a basement level where hot furnaces belched fire, smoke rising as the flames licked upwards from their dark, charred pits.

The metal walkway upon which they stood, and upon which their feet rattled as they moved, ran all around the wall of the armoury, save along the eastern wall where there was instead a ramp sloping downwards into the pit. The four of them walked down it. Over his shoulder, Jaune wore a satchel bag containing the shards of Crocea Mors; the pieces of the blade clattered together every so often, moreso it seemed as they began to walk downwards; just so long as they didn't slice open the bag and come spilling out to drop to the floor below, that would be fine. He didn't have any other parts for his new sword that Ruby had designed for him — he had contributed ideas, but it was Ruby who had turned those ideas into something that could be physically manufactured — since Ruby said that they were going to make them themselves, here in the armoury.

Jaune couldn't help but think that that would translate to Ruby making the parts here in the armoury and hoped that they weren't — that he wasn't — putting too much work upon her shoulders.

As they descended, the heat of the fires began to strike at Jaune's face, slapping him repeatedly as the flames flickered. He could feel the heat of the air when he breathed and found that already he could hardly imagine what it would be like to stay here for hours, days, longer perhaps. Now he understood why Pyrrha had insisted on bringing some bottles of water with them.

He couldn't help but wonder how long this was going to take.

As they reached the bottom of the pit, Jaune saw that there was someone down there already: a young man, if a few years older than him — but certainly not much older than a new graduate or a fourth-year student — a pretty man, in a way that might have made him jealous if he hadn't had so much faith in Pyrrha; a man with long brown hair tied back in a queue and a pencil moustache dignifying his upper lip. He was tall — about Jaune's height — and slender, dressed in a shirt that had been white before it became stained with suit and ash and much else besides, a neckerchief equally stained tied around his neck, and dark trousers. He was holding a sword in one hand, a slender rapier with a gilded hilt and guard. The blade glimmered in the light of the furnaces.

"Wow! That looks really awesome, Mister Turner!" Ruby called as she leapt off the ramp and led the way rapidly across the spacious chamber towards the man and his sword. "Is that a new one?"

The man — Mister Turner — turned to face her, still gripping the blade firmly in one hand. "Ruby," he greeted her cheerfully. "Nice to see you again; and yes, this is new. Folded steel, gold leaf laid into the handle, the tang is nearly—"

"The full width of the blade," Ruby finished.

Mister Turner smiled. "You have a good eye."

Ruby smiled. "Thanks. Is it for you?"

Mister Turner laughed. "No. This is an order for General Blackthorn, placed by the First Councillor to celebrate the good general's promotion."

"Ah," Ruby murmured. "That's a pity."

Mister Turner blinked. "'A pity'?"

"A general isn't going to get much use out of it, is he?" Ruby asked. "It's just going to sit on his hip, looking pretty."

"Perhaps," Mister Turner conceded. "But if he should ever have need of a sword, he will have the best." He glanced past Ruby towards the other members of the team. "And these must be your teammates."

"Yep," Ruby agreed. "This is Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, and Pyrrha Nikos. Everyone, this is Will Turner, the assistant armourer."

"You know him?" Sunset said.

"Yeah, I've come here sometimes to work on Crescent Rose," Ruby explained.

"And you make swords for people outside of the school?" Jaune asked. "You must be pretty good."

Mister Turner shrugged. "If people appreciate my work, then who am I to say that they are wrong? So, Jaune, I understand it's your sword that you're all here to reforge?"

Jaune nodded. "That's right."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be in good hands with Ruby," Mister Turner said. "But if you need anything, I'll be around. For the most part; I do need to deliver this to Councillor Emerald."

"What about your boss?" Sunset asked. "The actual armourer."

"He's on vacation at the moment," Mister Turner explained. "Ruby, will you be all right here on your own for a little bit?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ruby assured him. "We'll be fine."

Mister Turner smiled, nodded, and placed the sword in a blue case, closing the lid and tucking the box beneath his arm before he began to walk towards the slope that led out towards the rest of Beacon and the world beyond.

"You know," Ruby said, "I've never actually seen the armourer, just Mister Turner."

"Perhaps he's very busy," Pyrrha suggested.

"Probably," Ruby agreed. "Anyway, since we're here, we should probably get started."

"Great," Jaune agreed. He paused for a moment. "Where do we start?"

They started, it turned out, in the machining room, which lay beyond a couple of doors leading out of the great chamber containing the furnaces. Here, there were all kinds of machining tools for the manufacture and adjustment of parts, although exactly what parts each machine made, Jaune really couldn't tell. All he knew was that the room was full of tools, and they made parts here.

I'm really going to need Ruby's help with this, aren't I?

"We start," Ruby informed them all, "by remaking the hilt; once we've done that, once the dust mechanism and everything else works, then we can reforge the sword and be sure that it's going to fit into the adjusted hilt — and your scabbard, of course."

"Right," said Jaune. "And … where do we start with that, exactly?"

It turned out that, although Jaune was completely new at this, and although he had no idea what these machining tools did, he was able to avoid relying too much on Ruby by insisting that she could only tell him, or show him, what it was that he needed to do. For the final piece, for the piece that would actually form part of the rebuilt and reforged Crocea Mors, he insisted upon doing it himself: he would make the part, he would bore the diameter, he would dismantle this or assemble that. It didn't make the process quick by any means; in fact, it made it a lot more drawn out than it would have been if he'd just let Ruby do it, but as much as he flailed about at times, as much as he broke things — only the would-be parts of his new sword, thankfully, and not the machining tools — and as much as he probably would have taken his arm off at least once if it weren't for his aura, Jaune was glad that he insisted otherwise, insisted upon having a hand — both hands, most often — in the production.

After all, this was his sword, his weapon. Dad had told him to make Crocea Mors his own, and what better way to do that than by actually making it? Ruby had made Crescent Rose with her own two hands, and while Sunset hadn't made the parts, she had put them all together herself. Pyrrha … he hadn't actually asked Pyrrha about it, but he'd be astonished if she hadn't been involved somehow.

After all, they said that all the best weapons had a piece of the wielder's soul inside of it. That hadn't been true of him and Crocea Mors, and while it certainly wasn't the only reason why he wasn't up to their level … maybe it was a part of it.

In any case, it was an issue that he had a chance to correct, and he wasn't going to miss it.

Which isn't to say that he didn't accept any help from the others. While he wouldn't let Ruby do the work for him, he would have been lost without instructions. When something was especially fiddly, where he needed a particularly steady hand, Pyrrha was willing to help steady anything metal with her semblance to ensure that he could slot things together properly without breaking anything or messing it up in any way. And as work on the hilt progressed, Sunset helped turn some of the dull metal into something a little cooler-looking.

Nevertheless, Jaune was doing most of the work himself, and while he wouldn't have had it any other way, it was still hard work, and it wasn't made any easier by the heat coming in from the furnaces next door. And so, taking a quick break, he left the armoury, climbing up the ramp and onto the high walkway, exiting onto the grounds of Beacon where the air was crisp and cool and fresh.

He sat down just beyond the armoury doors, resting his elbows upon his knees, his hands drooping towards the ground.

"Thirsty?" Pyrrha asked, holding out a bottle of water as she sat down beside him.

"Thanks," Jaune said, taking the bottle from her hands and unscrewing the white plastic cap. He squeezed the bottle a little between his fingers as he drank from it, pouring the liquid down his parched throat. The water wasn't cool by any means — it had been down in the armoury for too long — but he wasn't in very much position to care.

Jaune lowered the bottle and wiped the sweat from his brow with his other hand. "How's it going?"

"How do you think it's going?" Pyrrha asked. "It's your weapon."

"Yeah, but I don't exactly know what I'm doing," Jaune pointed out.

"You say that as though I do," Pyrrha said. "I'm sure that Ruby would let you know if things weren't going well."

"Yeah, I'm sure she would," Jaune agreed. He paused for a moment, and drank some more water from the bottle. "You didn't make Miló yourself, then?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "All my weapons," she explained, "were forged by Hephaestus, one of the greatest smiths in Mistral, although as I grew older, I was able to get more involved in the creation myself."

"When you say all of your weapons—”

"I didn't always use Miló and Akoúo̱," Pyrrha said. "My training began when I was very young, and so did my tournament career. My weapons have … I would say they have grown up with me, but the truth is that, as I grew up, I left them behind."

"But they were always the same kind of weapons, I guess," Jaune said. "Otherwise, you would have had to start your training all over again."

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied. "My first weapon was a spear called Steropes and a shield called Brontes; both very simple, no mode shifting, no unnecessary complications. When I had gained some affinity with the spear, I was given a sword, Arges, and thereafter my first gun.”

“What was that called?” asked Jaune.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. “My mother made the mistake of letting me name the gun, young though I was.”

Jaune grinned. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me now.”

Pyrrha glanced downwards. “'Pyrrha’s Gun,'” she said.

Jaune snorted. “There could have been worse choices.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha agreed. “But Mother didn’t let me choose the names again until I was old enough to appreciate the gravity of it and the solemnity with which it should be approached.” She looked at him. “Will you keep the name Crocea Mors?”

“I… yeah,” Jaune said. “I mean, why wouldn’t I?”

“Sometimes, when a weapon is shattered and then reforged, it is also renamed,” Pyrrha said. “Especially if it is coming into the possession of a new owner who wishes to put their own stamp on it.”

Jaune thought about that for a moment … but while it was possible to think about changing the name, actually thinking about a name which he might change it to was a little more difficult. Besides, while he hadn’t considered the idea before, now that it had been brought to his attention, it wasn’t really grabbing him.

“I think I’ll keep it,” he said. “After all, it’s enough that I’m completely changing the sword from what it was when my ancestors used it; I don’t want to lose all connection to what it was and to who came before me.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Very well then,” she said. “Crocea Mors it shall remain. And you shall do it further honour, I have no doubt, until the time comes…”

Until the time comes to pass it to one of our kids? Jaune wondered, guessing that was what she meant but had not quite said. It was a lovely thought, but at the same time … Jaune wondered if it wasn’t too much. He already had the family ring, to give to Pyrrha when he felt like he was ready to ask — and when he felt like she’d say yes, too — to also keep the family sword, permanently … was it a bit much?

“I … don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “I’m wondering if maybe, when the time comes for me to retire, I should send the sword back home, for River’s kid or one of my other nephews to use.”

“Or perhaps it is time to retire the idea of an ancestral family weapon?” Pyrrha suggested. “I do not bear the weapon of my huntsman father or my esteemed tournament champion mother. Rather, I use my own weapons, made for me, as this new Crocea Mors will be made for you. While a simple sword and shield can be learned by anyone, these modifications—”

“Might not suit anyone else’s style or technique,” Jaune finished. “That … that’s a good point. I don’t know, not like we need to make a decision on it right now, anyway, right?”

Pyrrha smiled. “No, indeed.”

Jaune drank some more of his water; the bottle was about halfway drained by this point. “Thanks for this,” he said again as he climbed to his feet. “I think I’m ready to get back to work now.”

And so he descended back into the armoury, back into the heat of the forges, back into the machining room, and there, with the help of his friends, he laboured until the hilt was complete.

It was heavier now than it had been before — it could hardly have been otherwise, given what was being built into it — which was unfortunately going to mess with the balance a little bit but which was, at the same time, unavoidable if any changes were going to be made to the sword whatsoever. Ruby said that there were ways of reforging the blade that would counteract that, but judging by the look on Pyrrha’s face, Jaune thought that she might have doubts about the idea of making the blade part of the sword heavier than it already was.

It was wider now, heavier, yes, but also more ornate, the crossguard rising at the tips, pointing in the same direction as the blade would, and in the centre forming a golden arrow pointing down the blade — or at least, it would once there was a blade again. The gold — or gilded metal; Sunset had cast a spell on it to make it look gold, but Jaune wasn’t sure that it actually was gold; probably not — was ornately decorated with swirling patterns, and set on each side with a pair of sapphires set together so that they almost looked like eyes, and each pair paired with two emeralds sitting on the extreme wings of the guard.

Again, Jaune didn’t think that they were real gems, but Sunset had certainly made them seem that way.

The grip remained much as it had, long enough to grip the sword easily in one hand, wrapped around with strips of blue leather criss-crossing up towards the pommel, but the pommel itself was set with what appeared to be a very large sapphire, the size of a duck’s egg, gleaming brightly on the end of the sword.

This was definitely not a sapphire; rather, it was the container for a canister of dust, although it did help disguise what kind of dust he was using on any given day. Rather than add in a revolver function, such as Weiss or Russel used, Ruby had suggested a simpler system whereby there was only one dust canister in the sword at any one time, but with the capacity to easily switch it out if needed. And so, once a dust canister — he didn’t actually have any dust yet; buying some was next on his to-do list once the sword was finished — was inserted into the gem, the dust would travel down the two pipes that ran through the hilt to be expelled through the holes which sat on either side of the crossguard. Once activated, by a trigger built into the hilt at the point where his thumb generally rested when he was using the sword — Ruby had had him draw the broken sword from its scabbard at least twenty times to be sure of getting the position right — fire or ice or whatever else he liked would erupt down the blade.

Once the blade was reforged.

For now, Jaune was the proud owner of a new hilt, a hilt which he brandished aloft. “What do you guys think?”

“It needs a sword,” Sunset said.

“Sunset!” Ruby scolded her.

“How does it feel, Jaune?” Pyrrha asked. “You are the one who has to wield it, not us.”

“It feels…” Jaune paused, swiping the bladeless hilt through the air experimentally. “It’s … different, to how it was before, but so am I. It’s better.” And so am I.

Pyrrha nodded, and a smile graced the corners of her lips.

“So,” Jaune went on. “Now for the sword.”

So Jaune passed out of the machining room and into the forge, where the air was even hotter as the flames of the furnaces rose up, and amongst the flames, chest bare, he laboured to reforge his broken blade, melting the broken shards down in the hot fires and casting them anew into the mould.

The renewed blade was joined to the newly fashioned hilt, and just like that, Crocea Mors was born anew.

And Jaune Arc was armed once more.

“So,” Jaune said, “where shall we go to get dust? Where do you go to get dust?”

The four of them now stood in Vale; none of them were armed, save only for Jaune, who wore his new sword proudly at his hip — and why shouldn’t he? It was, after all, brand new. Brand new, remade, reforged; he had a right to show it off a little bit.

Sunset would have done the same in his position.

“I shouldn’t say this, but I always buy from the SDC,” Sunset said. “Well, I buy from DustWorld, the SDC retail subsidiary.”

“Why don’t we try From Dust Till Dawn?” Ruby suggested. “You know it reopened after the robbery around the start of last semester.”

“No, let’s not go there,” Sunset said.

“'Robbery'?” Pyrrha repeated. “Is this where the two of you—?”

“Yes, it’s where we met, but we’re not going back,” Sunset said. “The owner is a racist.”

“Really?” Ruby asked.

“Yes!” Sunset insisted. “He kept me waiting forever, refusing to serve me because I’m a faunus. If he had done his job and not been such a bigot about things, I wouldn’t have even been in that store when Torchwick arrived.”

“Then it’s a good thing for him that he didn’t, huh?” Ruby replied.

Sunset pouted. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t make him any more of a pleasant person or any more of a person that I want to spend a lot of time around.”

“I’d like to see how he’s doing,” Ruby said. “Just to make sure that he’s okay and that he got back on his feet. Wouldn’t you like to know that it all worked out okay?”

Not really; it wouldn’t bother Sunset if the man had gone out of business permanently; it would have served him right. However, with as much grace as she could muster, she relented. “Very well, let’s go to From Dust Till Dawn, but if he doesn’t have what Jaune’s looking for, then we go to DustWorld.”

So they headed through the streets of Vale in search of the dust shop that had brought Sunset and Ruby together and brought Ruby into Beacon two years early. It was getting a little close to dusk as they moved through the city, the sun beginning to sink in the horizon, yielding the sky to darkness, to the stars, and to the lights of General Ironwood’s warships.

“Now that Jaune has a new weapon,” Ruby said as they walked along, “we should ask Professor Ozpin to give us a mission so that he can try it out.”

“Trying out his weapon is what training is for,” Pyrrha pointed out, “but a nice, relatively quiet mission so that you can see how your new functionalities work in the field wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“Once your fight with Cinder is done,” Jaune said softly.

The air seemed to grow a little colder at his reminder of what lay in store for Pyrrha, the reminder of the fact that a possible future lay ahead in which Team SAPR was without the P, and Jaune carried his new sword in memory of his lost love, laid low in defence of her honour.

It won’t be like that; have some faith; she’s your best friend.

And Cinder’s wrath is terrifying.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “Once that has been dealt with.”

Pyrrha wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t think she could win.

Would she?

Wouldn’t she? You heard her, you’ve heard her more than once; she’s looking for something to hold onto.

Well, then maybe you should be supportive and help her find it, since clearly, it wasn’t going to get any better on its own.

I’m not going to tell her that it’s a bad idea, but I won’t cheerlead this; I can’t.

My heart is too heavy to muster light-hearted enthusiasm.

That was left to Jaune, who smiled and slipped one hand into hers and said, “Yeah, once you’ve finished Cinder once and for all, we should ask about a nice, quiet, ordinary mission.”

Pyrrha glanced his way. “I’d like that.”

They continued to walk down the streets, streets which were not perhaps covered in graffiti but which were nevertheless daubed with paint decrying Atlas.

“I see what you mean, Ruby,” Sunset said softly.

“Is it like this everywhere?” Jaune asked. “I mean … how? How has the whole of Vale just turned against Atlas like this?”

“It doesn’t have to be the whole city,” Sunset pointed out. “Just a few people who care enough to spread the word across the whole city.”

“Okay, but even so, why?” asked Jaune. “I mean, at the Breach, without General Ironwood’s forces…”

“The city would have been lost,” Pyrrha whispered. “Perhaps that is the problem. Valish pride cannot bear to have stood in need of rescue.”

“That still doesn’t make much sense,” Ruby pointed out.

“People don’t always make sense, so maybe Pyrrha’s right,” Sunset replied. “It doesn’t make it any less stupid, but she might be right.”

“Faunus! Why don’t you go home, eh? Go back where you came from?”

Sunset jumped a little at the sudden shout from across the road, her tail twitching and her ears pressing down against her head, disappearing into her mass of fiery hair.

She turned on her toes, one hand clenching into a fist as her mouth opened to give whoever had yelled at her like that a piece of her mind, before she realised that the shout was not actually directed at her.

No, the shout that had come from across the street was actually directed at two faunus across the street, two bird faunus with wings of apple-green white emerging from out of their backs.

Two faunus whom Sunset had seen before, although it took her a moment to place their names: Silverstream and Terramar, Skystar’s cousins.

They were walking down the street, going the opposite direction to that in which Team SAPR was headed; Silverstream was wearing a Weiss Schnee top with spaghetti straps, which had the advantage of accommodating her wings; Terramar was wearing a t-shirt with a sports brand on it, which also had been cut out at the back to let his wings fly free.

Sunset couldn’t help but feel they might have done better to cover them up in this instance.

They were being followed down the street by a man, a bald man in a faded blue denim jacket and jeans, with steel-toed boots upon his feet. He moved with an awkward, almost shambling gait, but he was taller than Silverstream — and much taller than Terramar — and so, despite the fact that they were trying to walk quickly, they were not able to open up the distance between them.

Worse still, their route down the street was going to take them past a bar, a cheap-looking place where cheap-looking people were gathering outside with pints of ale in their hands. Some of them, their attention drawn by the shouting, were already looking up the road towards Silverstream, Terramar, and their pursuer.

Silverstream kept glancing behind her, as if she was hoping that he had given up; she kept one hand on Terramar’s shoulder and another on his back, though whether she was trying to push him along or shield him, Sunset could not have said.

“How many kids did your mother have, eh?” the man demanded. “How much money has she stolen from us?”

Sunset gritted her teeth, but Pyrrha beat her to stepping forward, her armour glinting in the dying sunlight as she strode across the road — looking both ways as she did so — towards Silverstream and Terramar. Sunset followed, both hands clenching into fists, although when she walked across the street, she did not aim for the two faunus, but rather, for the man who followed them.

Pyrrha reached the two first, smiling reassuringly as she stepped in front of them.

“Hello,” she said. “You might not remember me but we’ve met before. My name is—”

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Silverstream murmured, her voice trembling. “You’re … kind of hard to forget.”

“So are you, Silverstream Aris,” Pyrrha replied, the smile not leaving her face. “Please, don’t worry; everything’s going to be alright now.”

Sunset stalked onto the pavement on their side of the road, placing herself foursquare in the path of the man in the denim jacket and jeans.

“That’s enough,” she growled. “Leave them alone.”

The man came to a rollocking stop, leaning backwards a little and staggering back a couple of steps, looking as though he might topple over and crack his head on the pavement. He did not, unfortunately; rather, he sneered at Sunset, his lips curling back to reveal a mouthful of rotten, yellow teeth.

“Oh, another one,” he said. “How many brothers or sisters have you got, by how many dads? How often was your mother—?”

Sunset hit him, her fist snapping out to sock him on the jaw, making him stagger backwards, clutching his face with one hand.

“My mother was a lady,” Sunset growled, taking a step forward, her tail absolutely rigid with anger; it was true that her dam may well have been exactly what this oaf had been about to accuse her of, but she wasn’t Sunset’s mother. “So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll be eating soup for the rest of your life.”

The man stared at her in disbelief. “You … you can’t talk to me like that! This is my kingdom! Mine!”

“And this is my fist,” Sunset said.

The man’s face twisted with anger. “Why … why do you get to talk to me like that? Why do you get to look like that? I … I’m human! I should be ruling this kingdom, you uppity—”

Sunset hit him again, this time on the nose; there was an audible crunch as his head snapped backwards.

“Boohoo, your life is awful, and you’re unhappy,” Sunset said. Guess what, I’m pretty unhappy myself a lot of the time. “It doesn’t give you the right to be a jackass to kids. Now beat it.”

The man looked as though he might say something else — until Sunset raised her fist at him again, at which point, he got the message and scurried off, though not without some angry backward glances in her direction.

Sunset turned her back on him, walking towards Silverstream, Terramar, and Pyrrha, who had been joined by Jaune and Ruby.

Pyrrha had her gloved hands upon the shoulders of both Silverstream and Terramar, smiling benignly down at both of them.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

Terramar glanced down at the ground. “Not great,” he said quietly. “My stomach feels kind of … almost like I might throw up; not exactly, but kind of, you know.”

Silverstream shivered. “Me too. I feel a little better now that he’s gone.” She half turned to look at Sunset. “Thank you, for getting rid of him.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Sunset said.

“What happened?” Ruby asked.

“We were on our way home from the video store when he just started following us,” Silverstream said. “I thought that maybe he’d stop after a little bit, go away, leave us alone, but he didn’t. He just kept on following us. I didn’t know what he was going to do if he caught up with us.”

“That’s not something you have to worry about anymore,” Sunset said.

“But we’re sorry that you had to go through that,” Ruby added. “Vale … I don’t know what’s going on; Vale’s better than this.”

“I’ve never had that happen to me before,” Silverstream agreed. “This, the graffiti … it’s like nothing that I’ve ever known; it’s like Grampa’s stories about what it was like after the war, when he got chased out of his house and people wrote ‘Silver Bullet won here’ on the door. I thought that was all in the past, not that I’d ever…” Silverstream trailed off. “Anyway, thank you for helping; we should get going.”

“We’ll walk you home,” Pyrrha said, with only a glance towards Sunset in the way of asking for permission.

“Are you sure?” Silverstream asked. “We don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“It would be our honour,” Pyrrha assured them.

“And our duty as huntsmen,” Ruby said.

Silverstream glanced at Terramar and managed to muster up the slightest smile. “Thanks,” she said. “Thank you all.”

The four of them fell in around the two, Pyrrha leading, Sunset bringing up the rear, with Jaune and Ruby on either side of them. They steered away from the bar, veering towards the other side of the street again, but though a few people stared at them, nobody else dared to challenge them.

“Vale shouldn’t be like this,” Ruby lamented. “Especially not now. We’re supposed to be all coming together for the Vytal Festival.”

“Apparently not,” muttered Terramar.

Jaune’s brow furrowed. “So,” he said, “did you two pick up anything cool at the video store?”

Silverstream glanced at him as one hand went to the bag that she wore on one harm, banging lightly against her hip. “I hope so,” she said. “We’re going to try out those cartoons about the zoo animals that get washed up on Menagerie.”

“I’ve not heard of them,” Sunset said. “What are they called?”

“…Menagerie.”

“Right, that sounds obvious, now that you say it,” Sunset replied. “Well, I hope you enjoy them.”

“You guys having a movie night?” asked Ruby.

“Something like that, yeah,” Silverstream said. “We’re kind of—”

“Babysitting,” Terramar said.

“That makes it sound like a chore,” Silverstream chided him. “Which it isn’t. Bramble’s really sweet.”

“'Bramble'?” Sunset repeated. “The First Councillor’s son?”

Silverstream nodded. “We’ve known Councillor Emerald for years — he and Aunt Novo were always really close — so we sometimes take care of Bramble when the First Councillor needs a sitter. He’s going to … I think it’s a Vytal Festival thing, cause Skystar’s going to be there too.”

“It’s the parade planning,” Terramar supplied.

“Right, right, the parade,” Silverstream. “Are you guys looking forward to that? Are you looking forward to the festival?”

“'To the festival'? Yeah, sure, why not,” Jaune said. “To the parade … we don’t actually know if we’ll be a part of it yet; none of the schools have announced their Vytal choices.”

“That sounds as though it’s cutting it pretty fine,” Silverstream declared. “When are you going to find out?”

“We are not entirely sure,” Pyrrha admitted.

“But we’ll be selected, for certain,” Sunset said.

“You shouldn’t get overconfident, Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured, glancing back at her over her shoulder.

Sunset snorted. “You just say that because you want to seem humble in front of Silverstream and Terramar.”

“I’m surprised they don’t announce it earlier so you can start training for the tournament,” Terramar opined.

“We ought to be training anyway, tournament or not, to keep our skills sharp,” Ruby said.

“Okay,” Terramar allowed, “but don’t you need to practice for the parade too?”

“It sounds like they haven’t sorted all the details out yet, so it would be kind of hard to practice,” Ruby pointed out.

“You make a good point there,” Terramar conceded.

“In my experience, there isn’t usually a lot of rehearsal for these things,” Pyrrha said, turning her head to look back at the rest of them over her shoulder. “Once you try and rehearse, then a crowd turns out, and before you know it, the rehearsal has become the parade itself.” She paused for a moment. “For my part, I am glad of it; I think that if these things are overmanaged, if they are repeated until they become rote … the sacred nature of the thing is lost.”

“'Sacred'?” Terramar asked. “It’s just a parade. It’s all for show, right?”

“Not so,” Pyrrha insisted, although not too strongly — she was only talking to a child after all. “Those students chosen to participate in the Vytal Tournament will not simply be marching through the streets of Vale but, by marching behind the Vytal flame, they will be dedicating themselves to the peace and harmony embodied by that flame and by the festival and the tournament.”

“The tournament where you fight each other?” Silverstream asked, a tad sceptically.

Pyrrha smiled. “Better that we fight for the entertainment of the crowds within the arena than that we fight to the death outside of it, no? It is said that when the first annual tournament was instituted in Mistral, the Emperor of the day did so in order that his greatest warriors might have a place — an arena, if you will — to demonstrate their skills and their superiority without killing one another in duels. In a sense, the Vytal Festival descends from that same tradition.”

“I’m guessing your views on the parade descend from the same place, too,” Jaune suggested.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “I have driven my chariot four times through the streets of Mistral to celebrate my victories, and on no occasion was it ever rehearsed at all; such a thing … it would have been blasphemous to Victory, almost.”

By the time they arrived at the home of Silverstream and Terramar — a nice brownstone in a suburban district of Vale, the kind of place where every house came with an expansive garden out the back and a balcony over the front porch — the sun had sunk lower still in the sky, casting the city of Vale in an angry red glow.

It matched the mood of the city at the moment.

Silverstream fished her keys out of her purse and opened the door.

“We’re home!” she called out, as Terramar stepped inside. In the doorway, Silverstream turned to the four students. “Do you guys want to come in for a second?”

“We wouldn’t want to impose—” Pyrrha began.

“Come on, it’s the least we can do to thank you guys,” Silverstream insisted. “You can grab a coffee or a slice of pizza or something.”

“It’s a generous offer, but we’ll be fine,” Sunset said. “Tell Bramble I said hello.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” Silverstream said. “Thanks again, all of you.”

“You’re welcome!” Ruby called, before Silverstream closed the door on them.

The four of them stood outside the now closed door, a momentary silence settling upon them.

“I’m glad we were able to help,” Jaune said.

“Indeed,” agreed Pyrrha.

Sunset folded her arms. “You know what? You know what really sticks in my craw about this? I bet Blake isn’t having to put up with this crap in Atlas.”

“You think so?” Jaune asked.

“I think if she was, she’d have come back here already,” Sunset declared. “I came here … I came here because Vale was supposed to be better about this sort of thing.”

“It is!” Ruby insisted. “It was. I don’t know. It’s like … it’s like something just happened, something just changed. I don’t get it. I don’t get what’s going on here.”

The barracks of Vale’s Grenadier Guards regiment had three mess halls: one for officers, one for sergeants, and one for other ranks. The Other Ranks’ Mess was a spacious room, a chamber that could comfortably fit more than the current seven hundred-strong strength of the unit. It looked like one part canteen — there were the serving stations at the back, where food could sit under heat lamps while a long queue of common soldiers waited with their wooden trays to get served — and one part club, complete with a bar at the north side of the room and wood-panelled walls covered in paintings and photographs commemorating the regiment’s ‘illustrious history.’ The colours, emblazoned with battle honours — none of which, as far as Tempest could see, were more recent than the Great War — sat in the southwest corner.

Ordinarily, the mess hall would have been filled with tables, but tonight, some of the collapsible tables had been folded away while others had been joined together in the centre of the room, loosely covered by an array of tablecloths to form an ad-hoc stage.

And upon the stage, before the men and women of the Grenadier Guards — officers and NCOs included — seated all around, pranced Sonata Dusk.

Tempest couldn’t hear the song that she had sung — although she wanted to, oh how she wanted to; the temptation to tear off her headphones was becoming ever stronger — but she could see the soldiers, sat all around the hastily prepared stage, clapping their hands together furiously; she could see them rising from their seats; she could hear their mouths moving and guessed that it wasn’t insults that they were hurling her way.

At least, if the great beaming smile on Sonata’s face was anything to go by.

Tempest judged the session was over now. It seemed to be; Sonata wasn’t singing any more. At least it didn’t look as though she was.

She risked taking off her headphones. Part of her wouldn’t have minded being wrong about the song being over.

But she wasn’t wrong. She was absolutely right. The song was over. Sonata was silent, smiling, waving her hands in the air as she was deluged with applause from all sides, cheering raining down upon her from the Valish soldiers gathered all around.

They were not fighting each other, as the civilians to whom Sonata sang were. They hadn’t turned on each other; they were not consumed by quarrels. That was not part of the plan. The Valish soldiers, in their uniforms of forest green, the Valish soldiers who were thought so little of, who were so often discounted, who had been forced to stand idly by while the Atlesians saved their city, they were not divided against one another.

Rather, Sonata’s song had united them against an external enemy.

“Thank you!” Sonata cried. “Thank you so much; you’ve been a wonderful audience! Thank you, Foot Guards, woo!” The cheering was redoubled, as if they were overjoyed that she had remembered their name. Sonata giggled bashfully. “How about three cheers for Atlas, huh?”

“Boo!” Not a single soul cheered, but everyone in the mess — nearly a thousand men and women, all told, including officers and the like — booed and jeered as loudly as they could, or worse still, cursed the name of Atlas.

“Well, that works too,” Sonata said lightly. “Stay sharp out there, 'cause your time is gonna come! Are you going to be ready?”

“YEAH!” the soldiers chorused.

Sonata raised her fist in the air. “Are you gonna take your city back?”

“YEAH!”

“Are you gonna kick some Atlas ass?”

“YEAH!”

“Yeah!” Sonata cheered. “Show ‘em what you’ve got, Vale!” she leaped down lightly off the stage, landed delicately upon the toe of one boot. “This is going to be sooooo awesome!”

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: Some changes to the forging of the weapon itself, some additional Sonata stuff, but the big change here is Sunset not giving away any of her magic, which was an idea which sounded cool in my head but didn't really serve much purpose in the long run.

The Wrong Chair, Part One (New)

The Wrong Chair, Part One

Ciel looked down at the box in front of her.

A collection of antique watches gleamed within. There were nine of them, all told, marking anniversaries in five year intervals from ten years of happy matrimony to fifty. Mrs. Peterson and her husband had never gotten to fifty-five years; according to Mrs. Peterson, her husband’s years in the mines had caught up with him before their years of marriage; he had died before their fifty-third anniversary.

“Me?” Ciel asked. “You … you want me to take them?”

Father Gregory had once been a muscular, athletic man; he had been a soldier, and one of his eyes was cybernetic, a very bright and unblinking blue that sat opposite his remaining natural hazel eye; there were scars running across his face surrounding said cybernetic eye as a sign of how he had come by it and lost his own; since leaving the military and devoting himself wholeheartedly to the Faith of the Lady, he had let a little of his muscle fall away and allowed his waist to expand somewhat, but he still filled out his robes very comfortably indeed. His head was bald, his jawline firm, and his nose was rather sharp. As he had just finished officiating Mrs. Peterson’s funeral, he was dressed in the full ceremonial regalia of his office: robes of midnight blue trimmed with silver at the sleeves and collar, a chain of gold around his neck, a ceremonial dagger at his waist. A shepherd’s crook, made of dark wood and rather stout-looking, leaned against the wall just behind him.

It gave Father Gregory both hands free to hold out the little box of varnished elm inside of which lay Mrs. Peterson’s prized watches.

Neon’s mother had booked a bar not too far from the church for Mrs. Peterson’s funeral reception, and in the common room, the congregation — the only people who had shown up for her funeral were those, like the Soleils and the Katts, who had known her through the church; none of her neighbours had bothered to show their faces — moved and talked and reminisced and gradually reduced the buffet down to nothing. On the other side of the room, Neon was telling the story about the time the two of them, and Florentin, had made her a feast for Winter’s Dawn.

“So what are we going to do?” Neon was saying. “I mean, I could have carried her down those stairs to the hall, but the doctor says that she’s not to be moved, and we didn’t want to make her worse, so, what are we going to do? Well, Ciel and I look at each other, and we agree that if we can’t bring her down to the feast, we’ll just have to bring a feast up to her—”

Ciel’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. That was … a happy memory. Yes, it had meant that she and Florentin had been unable to spend Winter’s Dawn with the rest of their family, and Neon had been unable to spend it with hers, but nevertheless, them cooking together, setting the table, cleaning up afterwards, staying up with Mrs. Peterson to witness the first dawn of winter’s turning … that was a happy memory. Cooking and preparation had ruined the dress that she had been wearing — she had gone there to see if Mrs. Peterson needed any help getting down to the congregation feast, not to prepare one herself — so for dinner, she had, with Mrs. Peterson’s encouragement, put on an old dress that had belonged to Mrs. Peterson herself, although it had been many years since she wore it last. Neon had dug out the old gramophone from the back of one of the cupboards, and they had listened to old songs on records so old that they kept sticking. It had become a bit of a game for the four of them, guessing where the record was going to stick next and then listening to the same words repeated over and over again with the loser being the person who broke first and admitted they couldn’t stand it any longer.

A great deal of fun had been had by all of them, and none moreso, she hoped, than Mrs. Peterson, which had made it all worthwhile, of course.

Ciel recalled her mind to the present, to Father Gregory, to where the two of them sat alone in a secluded corner of the bar … and to the box that he was holding in his hands, held out to her in offering.

“The investigation, such as it was, is over,” Father Gregory reminded her. “It isn’t needed as evidence—”

“That does not mean that it belongs to me, Father; I am no kin of hers,” Ciel declared. “Her son—”

“Moved to Vale some years ago, and passed away just a couple of years ago now,” Father Gregory said. “Cancer, I believe. Esmeralda met her grandchildren only on a few occasions, and her great-grandchildren never.”

“Nevertheless,” Ciel replied. “They are her heirs.”

“And Mrs. Peterson’s will leaves her estate, such as it is, to the church,” Father Gregory said.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “To the Church? Everything?”

Father Gregory chuckled. “I was as surprised as you were when she told me. She invited me to come over for a cup of tea; I assumed that she just wanted a chat and some company. She did, but … she also told me that she’d decided to change her will and leave everything to the Faith. She was at great pains to explain that it wasn’t much, of course, but … even the income from renting her apartment out will bring in a little lien which the Lady can find a use for. But as we talked, she asked me if I might remember a few small bequests, amongst which was to give her watch collection to you. She told me that you had admired them on several occasions, and she thought you might appreciate them.”

And so, here they were, looking up at her from out of their varnished wooden box: nine watches, all of them similar in style, all with rather thin and slender straps — although the fact that they were all metal made up for that in part — with small faces, much smaller than Ciel’s thumb; she wondered if one of the reasons why Mrs. Peterson had stopped wearing them was that her eyes gotten too bad to read them.

It was not a problem that Ciel’s eyes had yet; even at this distance, not wearing any of them, she could read the time on all of them.

One was silver, and one was gold, or at least, they both appeared to be so; one had a button that appeared to be made of pearl, while others seemed to have tiny rubies or sapphires set around the watch face; although Mrs. Peterson had confessed to Ciel that they were not real rubies or sapphires any more than it was real pearl. On one watch, the hands were made of crystal, and on another of coral, and those were real and probably made them the most valuable watches in the box.

Ironically, they were the two that Ciel liked the least.

She felt … she half wished that she had refused them more vehemently, not allowed Father Gregory to prevail upon her. It made her feel … it made her pursuit of Mrs. Peterson’s killer feel like she had done it to recover her own property.

She hoped that God and the Lady would understand that it was not so.

And it also made her feel … Mrs. Peterson had wanted her to have them, perhaps, but Ciel did not feel as though … she had not known her that well; they were not related; on what was this gift merited? A few kindnesses, some conversation, what was that to deserve this?

She almost felt as though she ought to sell them to raise money for Alain, but of course, there was no way that these would pay for all the treatment he required, and in any case … that had not been what Mrs. Peterson would have wanted; to have done so would have been to spit upon her wishes and her memory.

She had, for whatever reason, given these watches to Ciel; the least that Ciel could do was properly appreciate them.

She took the dainty silver watch out of the box and clasped it around her wrist above her glove.

It looked … rather nice there, if she did say so herself.

She left her room and was approaching the stairs when she heard a knock on the door.

In fact, it was too persistent to be a knock; it was more of a banging.

“I will get it,” Ciel called out as she walked briskly down the stairs, her skirt shaking around her somewhat as he did so, crossing the hall towards the door.

Whoever was on the other side of the door continued to bang upon it.

“Hold on!” Ciel cried out to them as she reached the door, scowling somewhat as she opened it, prepared to give whoever was on the other side a piece of her mind.

It turned out to be Neon, with a grin on her face as she said, “Can you come out and play?”

Ciel looked at her somewhat coldly. “Was there really any need for you to half break the door down?”

“I did not half break the door down,” Neon said. “Look, the door is right there; it’s fine.”

“You could have knocked once like a normal person,” Ciel pointed out.

“I wanted to get your attention,” said Neon. “I’ve got a great idea; step outside, and we can talk about it.”

“Is there any reason why you cannot step inside and we can talk about it?” asked Ciel.

“Because if your mother hears us talking about this, she’ll think it’s stupid,” Neon admitted cheerfully.

“That does not inspire a great deal of confidence,” Ciel murmured.

“I promise, this will be worth your while,” Neon insisted. “It’s not for us; it’s for Alain. Now come on.”

Ciel hesitated. The fact that Neon had admitted that people might not find this to be the great idea that she had proclaimed was not a great start, and she found it hard to imagine what idea Neon could have had that would get the money for Alain’s medical treatments — not least because Neon was basically a decent, honest person, and it would never occur to her to do anything criminal — and yet … and yet, Neon would never joke about something like this either; she wouldn’t pretend to have an idea without actually having one. And Ciel would welcome anything at this stage.

There was no harm in listening to what Neon had to say. No harm at all.

“Very well,” she said. “Hang on a moment.”

She walked briskly back up the stairs to grab her purse, hanging it off her shoulder by its chain, then — returning downstairs once more — she pulled on her cloak, clasping it around her neck.

“I am going out with Neon,” she declared.

“Have fun!” Mother called to her in reply.

That remains to be seen, Ciel thought, as she stepped out of the door, pulling the key out of her purse to lock it behind her.

The house was not too warm, but nevertheless, the chill air of Mantle’s streets struck her sharply.

“So,” Ciel said, as she turned to face Neon, “what are you wearing?”

“It’s a catsuit!” Neon declared gleefully. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

Ciel could not help but stare at it. Neon was wearing … well, she was wearing a catsuit, just as she had proclaimed, of which the only good thing that Ciel could find to say was that it was not so skintight around the crotch that Neon’s crotch was plainly visible. Upon her feet, she was wearing red high-heeled boots with a thick trim of white fur around the top; the legs of her catsuit were that same white until about the thighs, where they became pink up to the crotch area — this part of her legs also had zips up the front and black laces, although Ciel could not have said why. The torso, shoulders, and sleeves down to below the elbow were neon blue, with a white belt passing beneath her breasts, and the gap between what would have been a low sweetheart neckline on a dress and the collar around her neck was black, while her sleeves were white below the elbow.

She was wearing gloves, trimmed with white fur, with feline-looking claws at the fingertips and what were supposed to look like paw pads on the palms and fingers.

The whole thing — aside from the fur — appeared to be made of some kind of rubbery substance.

“You almost look as if you are on your way to a rather specific sort of club,” Ciel said dryly. “But then … the cat claws…”

“Nya!” Neon laughed, making a cat-paw motion at Ciel with one hand.

“One hesitates to think what Blake would say if she saw you wearing that,” Ciel observed.

“Blake would say something as humourless as she is, no doubt,” Neon replied. “The fact is, if I want to wear something stupid, then I can. Didn’t our ancestors fight a war for the right to wear dumb outfits?”

“No, they didn’t,” Ciel replied. “Our ancestors fought on the other side.”

“Speak for yourself, human,” Neon declared, mocking fondness about her tone of voice. “My ancestors died so that I could wear this.”

“And I am sure they are very proud to see that their sacrifice was not in vain,” Ciel said.

Neon sniggered. “How are you?”

“I am,” Ciel let out a sigh. “I am better than I was.”

“But are you good?” asked Neon.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I am not sure that I am. But I am better.”

Neon nodded. With both hands, she reached out into the recesses of Ciel’s cloak to take her hands in turn, drawing them out and into the light. “Well, I — I hope — am about to make things even better,” she said. She glanced down at Ciel’s wrist. “That’s … one of Mrs. Peterson’s watches, isn’t it?”

Ciel drew her hands back, covering the watch with one hand.

“Hey, hey, I’m not judging,” Neon assured her. “I just asked.”

“Do you think that it may be too soon?” asked Ciel,

“I think she left them to you so that somebody would start wearing them again instead of sticking them in a box under the bed,” Neon replied.

“In truth, I am not certain they were meant to be worn,” Ciel said. “They were gifts, after all.”

“Gifts of a thing that were meant to be worn,” Neon pointed out. “Maybe not all the time, but not never; and then they were given to you, to be worn.” She paused for a moment. “It suits you.”

Ciel’s hand fell away, revealing the watch once more. “Do you think so?”

Neon nodded. “It goes with your old-fashioned style.”

“I will take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as one,” Neon said.

“Then I thank you for it,” Ciel replied.

She hesitated, anxious to get on to the topic of Neon’s visit but at the same time fearing to be disappointed by whatever it was that Neon had come up with or thought that she had come up with.

She was not sure how much disappointment she could bear.

“You … you spoke of Alain?” she asked.

“Yeah, Alain, I know how we can get the money for Alain’s treatment!” Neon said eagerly. She pulled out her scroll from … somewhere Ciel found she did not even wish to speculate, opening it up and holding it up so that Ciel could see it.

Displayed upon the screen was a wanted notice for a certain Feathers Markinson, a chicken faunus with a bright red crest upon his head, the only thing upon his head, which was bald otherwise.

There was a reward attached, of three million lien.

“We’re going to catch this guy and use the reward to save Alain!” Neon proclaimed.

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “How?” she asked.

“Well, I don’t know yet; don’t leave me to think of everything!” Neon replied. “But you need three million lien, and this is a way that we can get three million lien, no?”

Neon’s logic was inarguable. The apprehension of this miscreant would be a way to obtain the required funds, if they could do it. Of course, that might be quite an if.

It might even be quite a dangerous ‘if.’

“What is this fellow wanted for?” asked Ciel. “Do you know?”

“I thought you might ask that,” replied Neon. “He’s a thief.”

“'A thief'?” Ciel repeated. “A substantial reward for a thief.”

“He hits high value targets,” Neon explained. “Apparently, he burgled the Marigold family up in Atlas, stole Mrs. Marigold’s jewellery box. Similar stuff in Argus too, and most recently, here in Mantle…” Neon trailed.

Ciel frowned. “Neon?”

“You know the new hotel, the place my mom works?” Neon asked.

Ciel nodded. “Yes, you explained that it was close to … Lady, Neon, he didn’t—”

“Break in and rob the safe, yeah,” Neon muttered. “Nobody can work out how he did it.”

“How can anyone be sure it was him?” asked Ciel.

“He let them see him on the security cameras for a second,” Neon growled. “Right before the cameras went dead. Arrogant little … I’m gonna kick his ass for that.”

“How’s your mother?” Ciel reached out for Neon’s hand. “She is not … I hope that she has not been blamed for this.”

Security was hardly the responsibility of the manager, but at the same time, some owners might find a faunus employee a convenient scapegoat.

“They’re having an internal inquiry into why none of the security systems worked,” Neon said. “But Mom’s not too worried about it. Everything worked the last time it was tested, and security doesn’t answer to her anyway.”

“All the same, I imagine that if he could be caught and all his stolen goods recovered, it would make things considerably easier,” Ciel said.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt,” Neon admitted. “But mostly, it’s the money.”

“That is certainly a temptation,” Ciel allowed. “But … the police—”

“If the police could catch this guy, they would have done it after he robbed the Marigold house in Atlas,” Neon said.

“Then what chance do we have?” Ciel asked.

Neon was silent for a moment. “The Lady teaches us that valour and resolve are all, isn’t that right?”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “That is so, yes.”

“'Say not that a thing cannot be done,'” Neon said. “'Say not that a battle cannot be won. Take heart, set yourself to the task, fight with the utmost courage and through—'”

“'And through thy faith it shall be done, and all victories shall fall to thee,'” Ciel finished the quotation. “'For with faith, all things are possible.'”

Neon nodded. “The Lady is waiting to send us a miracle. We just need to put the work in to earn it. And three million lien falling into our laps sounds pretty miraculous, don’t you think?”

Ciel snorted. “Yes. Yes, it does, rather.”

Neon smiled. “So, what do you say? Are you willing to give this a shot?”

What do I have to lose? What does Alain have to lose? Ciel nodded. “Where do we start?”

“You’re the clever one; you tell me.”

Ciel rolled her eyes. “I think … I think … I think that if we are to do this, it would be as well to have some assistance,” she declared. “Let me make a call.”

“Do you really think that you’ll need all your weapons?” Blake asked.

Rainbow glanced at her. “You brought all your weapons,” she pointed out, her eyes flickering from Blake’s face to Gambol Shroud worn across her back.

“True,” Blake allowed. “But I don’t have quite so many as you.”

“Look, Ciel didn’t say exactly why she needed our help,” Rainbow said, “but she said that she needed our help, mine and yours, Twilight’s, which means I’m fairly sure that there’s going to be trouble of some kind; so, yes, I’ve brought all my weapons. I’d rather have them and not need them than—”

“Need them and not have them, right,” Blake said softly.

“Mmm,” Rainbow murmured wordlessly.

She really didn’t know why Ciel had called; she’d just said that she needed Rainbow’s help with something, that it would be good if she could get down here to Mantle, and to bring Blake and Twilight with her. And so, here they were, Rainbow, Blake, Twilight … and Penny.

Penny was walking at Twilight’s side, her head turning this way and that, looking up at the dark sky that hovered over them like a shroud, looking at every part of Mantle that was visible to the eye as the four of them walked through the streets. She had been talking to her … to her Dad, to Doctor Pietro, for a little while now, but this was her first time down in Mantle itself, the place where he called home.

Rainbow had actually been about to fly her down here to visit him when she got the call from Ciel. Ciel hadn’t asked her to bring Penny, but with Penny being there … it would have been impossible to lie to her even if Rainbow had wanted to, impossible to pretend that Blake and Twilight were coming to Mantle just to escort Penny to say hi to her Dad. And so they had told her the truth, that something had come up and Ciel needed their help, and once she heard that … Penny insisted on coming with them.

Rainbow was … well, she wasn’t entirely sure just how she felt about that, but depending on what kind of trouble it was that Ciel needed help with, she wasn’t feeling great about it. Yes, Penny wanted to help, and that was nice, but the last time that Ciel had needed Rainbow’s help in this town, it was because an old woman had gotten her head bashed in by a burglar. Rainbow didn’t want Penny to see that side of life. It was bad enough that she was seeing Mantle.

Of course, Blake was seeing Mantle too, and that wasn’t something that Rainbow was thrilled about either. She wasn’t thrilled about the way that Blake’s eyes seemed to narrow as she looked about the city; she wasn’t thrilled about how much Blake was taking in; she wasn’t thrilled about the way her lips were pursed tightly together; she wasn’t thrilled about the fact that Blake was here, period.

Rainbow hadn’t wanted to show Blake this. Which she was aware made it sound as though she wanted to … what was the word, to do with museums, curate; it made it sound as though she wanted to curate Blake’s experiences of Atlas so that she only saw the good bits before she decided to commit. That was … not entirely wrong; the reason why she didn’t want Blake to be down here was because Mantle was a complete dump and a really terrible advertisement for Atlas, but at the same time, she had taken Blake down to Low Town; she had shown her that things in Atlas weren’t perfect; it wasn’t as though she was trying to uphold the lie that everything in Atlas was shiny and awesome and had no flaws at all.

That didn’t mean that she wanted to draw attention to all of the most glaring warts upon the skin of the kingdom. Especially since … look, you could show an outsider like Blake Low Town, and they would get it. The problems with Low Town were what the problems with Low Town looked like: a bunch of faunus were forced to live in a crater underneath the city with no light and bad housing, and it sucked, and something needed to help them out. Or help them up, maybe.

But Mantle was different; as an outsider, you could look at Mantle and think that its problems were the same as Low Town’s problems: neglect, abandonment, nasty Atlas leaving people behind. But they were not the same, not the same at all. Rainbow Dash had grown up in Low Town, and she could say for certain that it was full of go-getters — like her — who could rise as high as anyone in Atlas if only they were given the opportunity. Mantle, on the other hand … Mantle was the kind of dump where people would murder their neighbours for a quick payday, and you couldn’t fix that with opportunity.

Honestly, Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure that you could fix it at all; this was Ciel’s home and all, but maybe the best approach would be to ship all the people out to different cities — not the same city, but split them up to different places so that they could become accultured to the way that other people lived instead of bringing their culture with them — and then just bomb the whole place. Let the earth exhale.

Looking around, it was hard to see that anything of value would be lost.

Every time I visit here, I think that Rarity did the right thing by getting out. Every time she visited here, she marvelled anew at the fact that this place, this … this place with all its grime and dirt squalor and barbarity could produce someone so classy, elegant, and generous as Rarity.

It was pretty amazing that it had turned out someone like Ciel, to be honest, but the time spent on military bases probably helped.

But it was hard to explain all of that to someone like Blake.

Especially the whole ‘bomb the place’ thing; that was hard to get across without sounding like a psycho.

“I don’t know what Ciel’s trouble is,” Blake murmured, “but this city certainly is troubled.”

Rainbow sighed. “I mean … at least they’re not faunus, right?”

Blake glanced at her. “So it’s fine that the kingdom is neglecting its citizens so long as it's doing so on an equal opportunity basis?”

Rainbow shrugged. “You can’t call it racism.”

“No,” Blake allowed. “But there are other things that you could call it instead.”

“This … this isn’t the same as Low Town,” Rainbow said. “This isn’t Atlas’ fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Blake asked. “How is it not the same as Low Town?”

“Because the people in Low Town are all right,” Rainbow declared. “You’ve been there, you know that; the worst is … Grandpa Gruff can be a bit short and sharp, and there are a few idiots down there who listen to the White Fang too much, but honestly, can you blame them with the way they live? People here…” She glanced at Penny, and at Twilight who stood beside her. Rainbow beckoned to her. “Twilight, don’t fall behind, come closer.”

“Why?” Twilight asked.

“Because it’s not safe,” Rainbow said.

Twilight took a couple of steps closer to Rainbow Dash, looking anxiously to her left and right as she did so.

Bringing Twilight down here was another … Rainbow had done it, because Ciel had asked, and if it had turned out that Twilight was vital but Rainbow had left her behind, then she would have felt bad, but that didn’t mean that she liked the fact that Twilight was here. Someone like Twilight Sparkle didn’t belong in Mantle; a star like her shouldn’t have to fall to the ground; it couldn’t … it couldn’t sparkle properly in all this smog and soot and dirt. She was too precious to be dirtied by the roughness of this place. She wasn’t even wearing her armour. Rainbow hoped the fact that Ciel had asked for Twilight was a sign that it wasn’t another murder they were here for, but … she didn’t like Twilight being here, just out in Mantle where anything could happen; she could attacked or kidnapped by the Happy Huntresses or … or anything. She didn’t like it.

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like these three people being in Mantle, being able to see Mantle.

Some people thought that the only reason Rainbow Dash could love Atlas was because she hadn’t seen the seamier side of it; that was a load of nonsense; Rainbow had seen the worst of Atlas — she’d grown up there — she was just able to look past it all and love the greatness of Atlas anyway without getting all bitter like Gilda had.

Ciel, Rainbow assumed, could do the same; you had to have that ability to grow up here in Mantle and still be an upright Atlesian patriot like her.

She was … a little concerned that her three friends down here might not have the same ability.

“Why wouldn’t it be safe?” Penny asked. “I mean, this is an Atlesian city, isn’t it? Although it doesn’t look at all like Atlas.”

“It’s not at all like Atlas, Penny; that’s why,” Rainbow said.

Penny frowned. “Why … why does Dad want to live here? Did Father make him live here; did he exile him from Atlas, and this was the only place he could go?”

“I doubt it, Penny,” Twilight replied. “Doctor Polendina is influential, but he isn’t that influential, and besides, if he really wanted to, Doctor Pietro Polendina could move to a lot of places besides Mantle. Vale would be happy to have such a renowned scientist living and working there. Do— Your Dad’s presence must be by choice, because he wants to be there.”

“But why?” Penny asked again. “Why would he want to stay in a place like this? It’s … it’s so awful!”

“Perhaps that’s why he wants to stay here,” Blake suggested. “To help make it a little less awful.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “But Rainbow said it wasn’t safe down here? Is my Dad safe? Is he going to be okay?”

Rainbow didn’t respond. It was true that Doctor Pietro hadn’t come to any harm so far down here in Mantle, but Rainbow wasn’t sure exactly how long he’d been down here. Had he only come here since his brother had kicked him out of the lab, or had he been working here part time before that? Either way, he was an old man; an old man who couldn’t even walk by himself. What was to stop someone breaking into his clinic looking for … pills or parts or something and then killing the old man to cover it up? It wouldn’t be surprising in this town.

I’m so glad Rarity got out of here. I’m so glad that her parents and Sweetie Belle moved to Canterlot.

I wish Ciel was out of here.

I wish this place didn’t exist, and then I wouldn’t have to bring Blake or Twilight or Penny here.

“Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked again.

“I don’t know, Penny,” Rainbow admitted. “I … the last time Ciel asked me for help down here, it was because someone had died. An old woman, someone Ciel knew from her church. Someone had killed her in her own home, and we found out that the person who’d done it had done it because she had a few … a few little valuables, not worth very much, but… worth a fortune in this town. They’d killed her and stolen her stuff so that they could sell it for a few lien. That’s the kind of place Mantle is; that’s what makes it different from Low Town,” she said to Blake. “In Low Town, things were rough, but we never turned on our own … until I turned my back on my own by going to Atlas and looking back.” She shook her head. “But there’s none of that here; there’s no … no community spirit here; there’s just … rats, crawling all over one another to get ahead.”

“Get ahead?” Blake asked. “Or stay alive?”

“Does it matter?” Rainbow asked. “It doesn’t excuse—”

“If you create the conditions where survival is a struggle, you can’t act shocked when people struggle to survive,” Blake said. “It’s like high-born Mistralians complaining that the lower slopes are full of crime and disorder when the reason it’s like that is because all of the wealth of Mistral flows upwards and away from those same slopes.”

“This is not the fault of Atlas,” Rainbow insisted.

“Councillor Cadance seems to disagree,” Blake pointed out. “At least in part. You seemed to, in her office; you said that if the police had done their jobs and investigated that murder, then it would have helped to restore trust in Atlas amongst the people here.” She paused. “I think it’s going to take more than that.”

“I think so too,” Rainbow agreed, although only in a soft voice. “I’m just … not sure that it’s worth it.”

“What do you mean?” Blake asked.

“I … I don’t know what I mean,” admitted Rainbow Dash. “I just know that it’s easier to stand in Atlas and talk about how to help Mantle trust Atlas more than it is to stand down here and look around and realise … how much I really want to get back to Atlas and away from here.”

Blake didn’t smile.

“There will always be some places that are better off,” Rainbow said. “And some that are worse.”

“I know,” Blake said. “I’ve spent enough time in Mistral to know that.”

“Although Vale seems to have managed to not be so bad,” Twilight pointed out.

“Maybe they have something to teach … us,” Blake suggested quietly.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “'Us'?”

Now Blake smiled, if only slightly, a faint turning upwards of her lips. “I’m not someone who changes her mind easily, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “but you can’t just give up on a part of your kingdom. This place obviously needs help, and just because it’s hard is no reason not to try. Councillor Cadance understands that.”

“And you do, too,” Rainbow said.

“And you?” Blake asked.

“People who want to be helped deserve to be helped,” Rainbow replied.

Blake’s eyes narrowed.

“You are the one who has pushed me to think about our people,” Rainbow declared, feeling a slight surge of irritation towards Blake’s high-mindedness. “I was always aware that I had to work harder than some, be better than some, because of these ears on top of my head, and thanks to you, I understand that there are faunus who work even harder and barely make it off the starting line because of how the odds are stacked against them. Why shouldn’t that count for something? Why should we be no better off than these people who tear each other to pieces?”

Blake walked towards her. “I … I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t … it wasn’t my intent to make you feel judged, personally. But you … you have changed me, as well. I … I’m less angry than I used to be, and considering what I did with that anger, that’s probably a good thing. But you’ve also helped me see that the interests of humans and faunus are connected, bound together. We can’t just seek to protect our own or improve the lot of our people, whether the faunus or Atlesians or both. Think about Equestria, how they were able to produce a paradise, but only by recognising that paradise has to be for everyone, or it isn’t a paradise at all. Atlas can be that too, I think we both believe that, but … it’s clear to me that Atlas can never fulfil its promise while places like this are left behind.”

Rainbow nodded. “So … what’s the answer?”

“I don’t even know what the problem is yet,” Blake admitted. “You’ve got more of an idea on that front than I do.”

“What about my Dad?” Penny asked.

“It … would be better if he moved back to Atlas,” Rainbow said, “but at his age … that’s for him to decide, not us.” She turned to face Penny. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather go and visit him?”

Penny shook her head. “If Ciel needs help, then I … I want to help her.”

“She didn’t ask you to,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I know,” Penny said sharply, not without some sore sourness in her voice, “but I’ll help her anyway. Then, maybe we can see Dad afterwards.”

Twilight smiled. “Sure thing, Penny. I’d like to see him again myself.”

Rainbow considered reminding Penny that when she transferred to Beacon, she would have all the opportunities she could ever want to wander round cities getting in trouble as she liked, but she would find it much harder to see either of her fathers … but she didn’t, because if Penny wanted to help Ciel, then that was her choice, and if this was the kind of situation that required Rainbow, Blake, and Twilight’s help, then it might be that they would need all the help they could get.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m sure Ciel will be glad of the assistance once we get there. Speaking of which, we should probably keep going. We’re probably keeping her waiting as it is.”

Not being too familiar with Mantle, Rainbow had to get out her scroll every so often in order to check that they were going the right way to their destination — and also to check that they were only using the main roads, because she didn’t want to risk the Mantle side streets — or risk anyone seeing what the Mantle side streets and back alleys were like. The main roads were not great, but at least it was only garbage piled up in places instead of people.

Eventually, the four of them arrived at a diner, a place that didn’t look as dingy and miserable as Rainbow Dash might have expected, with the illuminated sign for the name of the place mostly working. The windows were clean enough to see Ciel and Neon sitting in a booth by the window, and for Neon — what was she wearing? — to see them too. She waved at them with a … was she wearing a glove like a cat paw? With claws?

Nevertheless, despite her surprise at the interesting choice of outfit, Rainbow waved back, and led the group inside the diner.

“Look, here they are!” Neon cried, as she waved out of the diner window with one hand clad in a ridiculous glove.

She hadn’t even taken them off inside.

Ciel looked up as the door into the diner opened, and in walked Rainbow Dash, Blake, Twilight, and—

“Penny?” Ciel asked.

“Hello, Ciel,” Penny said, waving her hand but only slightly.

Ciel’s eyes remained on Penny, and not on any of the others, even as they drew. “I … am surprised to see you here. I did not … I did not ask for you.”

“No,” Penny said. “You didn’t.”

I didn’t think you’d want to come, Ciel thought, but did not say; to say it would have sounded even worse than not sending for Penny in the first place.

And so a silence descended upon the group, even as the four who had arrived from Atlas — Penny included — squeezed onto the seats on the other side of the booth from Neon and Ciel.

“So,” said Rainbow, seated next to the window opposite Neon, with a good deal of forced jollity in her tone, “Neon, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“What are you talking about, Dashie? Of course I’d be here to help Ciel out,” Neon said, putting a clawed hand upon Ciel’s shoulder. “After all, Ciel and I are friends.”

“What are you wearing?” Blake asked.

Ciel sighed. You would have been better off not asking.

“It’s a catsuit,” Neon said, repeating the catpaw gesture from earlier. “Nya nya!”

“I don’t…” Blake trailed off for a moment, blinking rapidly, before she rallied to say, “How can you wear something like that?”

“I admit it’s a little uncomfortable around—”

“I’m not talking about that,” Blake declared. “I’m talking about turning yourself into a walking stereotype!”

“Says the person who loves tuna,” Rainbow muttered.

Blake tilted her chin, with the side-effect of sticking her nose in the air, as she declared with some asperity, “That … is completely different, and of a completely different order to … this.”

“What’s the matter with this? It’s an outfit,” Neon said. “No one is going to have their minds changed about the faunus by what they see me wearing. You, both of you, need to lighten up a little. You can’t change the world; all you can do is laugh at it.”

“I disagree,” Blake said. “We can change the world, but we have to try.”

Neon sighed. “So earnest. Such a drag.”

“But thank you for coming,” Ciel said, a touch of wryness entering her voice, despite the circumstances. Once more she looked at Penny. “All of you.”

“Of course,” Penny said, a smile upon her face.

Neon snorted. Nobody made an issue of it.

“If you need help, then we’re all willing to do whatever we can,” Twilight said. “Although I’m not sure … you don’t need me to hack into Mantle’s security cameras again, do you?”

Blake looked at her. “Hack into Mantle’s security cameras?”

“It was only very briefly,” Rainbow assured her.

“That doesn’t make it any less surprising,” Blake replied.

“That probably won’t be necessary this time around,” Neon said. “Not least because he turns the cameras off.”

Twilight frowned. “Who turns the cameras off?”

Neon put her scroll down on the table, open, with the picture of their quarry displayed upon the screen. “Feathers Markinson,” she said.

Rainbow stood up and leaned over the diner table. “I’ve seen his wanted poster around, last time I was down in Mantle.”

“Who is he?” asked Penny. “Is he dangerous?”

“He’s a jewel thief,” Neon said. “And no, he’s probably not dangerous; he doesn’t seem to have done anything violent in any of his heists.”

Blake placed her hands upon the white plastic table. “Why do you want to catch a jewel thief?”

“For the reward money,” Neon admitted. “We need it for…” She glanced at Ciel.

Ciel bowed her head, resting her elbows upon the table. “My brother is sick,” she said. “Alain, my youngest brother, he … he requires treatments costing three million lien, three million that we do not have. If we can apprehend this fugitive and claim this money, then … but without, then … then I fear that…”

He will die. She did not want to say it. She could not say it; the words stuck in her throat. Her whole body trembled, and trembled all the more as she closed her eyes, unable to look at anyone.

“I am sorry to ask you to involve yourself in something that is none of your concern,” she said, “but such is the seriousness of the situation, so much is at stake that I fear we are not adequate to the task, and so I ask you, I beg you—”

She stopped as she felt hands upon her, arms wrapping themselves around her, a forehead pressed against her own.

“You don’t need to beg,” Penny said gently. “You don’t even need to ask. Of course we’ll help you, Ciel.”

Ciel opened her eyes. It was Penny holding her, Penny embracing her, Penny whose eyes were so big and so close to her own.

“You will?” Ciel asked, in a voice that was almost a croak of surprise. “But I … but why?”

Penny blinked. “Because you need us,” she said, as though it was the easiest thing in the world to understand. She smiled. “Don’t worry, Ciel; everything is going to be alright.”

Ciel drew in a deep, if somewhat ragged, breath, and then let it out again. “Thank you, Penny,” she said. “I … I am glad that you are here.”

“Do you need us, though?” Rainbow asked. “Do you really? Why don’t you just ask General Ironwood for help?”

“My parents would not take such charity,” Ciel said as Penny’s arms fell away from her.

“They wouldn’t take it?” Rainbow repeated. “Their … their pride is more important than their son’s life?”

“You do not understand what it is like—”

“I understand what it’s like to be poor,” Rainbow said sharply. “I haven’t forgotten, but if I needed money for something that important, I’d get down on all fours and beg like a dog for it if I had to.”

“Well, Ciel’s folks won’t; it is what it is,” Neon said. “It may not be good or right or ideal, but it is. It’s what we have to work with. If we want to get this money, we have to come by it … semi-honestly, at least. So, are you going to help us catch this guy or what?”

“Yes, of course I’m going to help you,” Rainbow said. “I’m not going to walk away; I just think it’s a bit stupid that you have to go to these lengths. What’s the good of having friends in high places if you can’t ask them for favours when you really need one?”

Some people might call that corruption, Ciel thought, but she knew that if she voiced that thought out loud, then Rainbow would bristle at the implications, and rightly so. All she said was, “It is perhaps a pity that my parents do not feel the same way you do.”

“We’ll do everything we can to help you, obviously,” Blake said. “And I suppose it’s clear now why you wanted Twilight’s help.”

“For my computer skills,” Twilight said. She got out her scroll and placed it on the table next to Neon’s. “And I also brought Midnight too, just in case.”

“I have heard everything,” Midnight’s voice issued out of the scroll, “and although I concur with Rainbow Dash’s assessment of the situation, I stand ready to do my part.”

“But how?” Blake asked. “Where do we even start? It seems that we have an aim, but do we have a plan?”

“We know that he’s still here in Mantle, because he robbed somewhere here very recently,” Neon said. “I don’t think that he’ll have left that quickly.”

“Why stay, if he has what he came for?” asked Penny.

“To wait until the alarm dies down?” Neon suggested.

“Or because he isn’t done yet,” Rainbow said. “Where did he rob the last time?”

“A hotel safe,” Neon muttered.

Rainbow frowned. “Was there a lot in there?”

“Does it matter?” Neon asked.

“It matters if he thinks he’s done or not,” Rainbow replied.

“You said that he was a jewel thief,” Blake said. “Were there jewels in the safe, do you know?”

Neon shook her head. “Just lien.”

“Practice run,” Blake said softly.

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Practicing a theft?”

Blake nodded. “Start off with a low priority target as a proof of concept and capability, before moving onto the real target. Stealing lien from the hotel is appreciated, I’m sure, but more importantly, it proves to them that they can hit their real goal.”

“Which we don’t know yet, but it would be good if we could figure it out, because I doubt a jewel thief with a three million lien bounty is going to trying to fence what he steals in low-end pawn shops,” Rainbow said.

“But what would a jewel thief be doing in Mantle in the first place?” asked Twilight. “I mean … no offence, but it isn’t exactly awash with glamorous socialites.”

Neon’s eyes widened. “The museum!” she cried.

Ciel looked at her. “The Mistralian exhibit!”

“Would one of you care to explain?” asked Blake.

“The crown jewels of Mistral, some of them at least, have been loaned to Atlas by Mistral,” Neon explained. “They’re been on tour all around Solitas and now they’re here in Mantle, at the museum.”

“Crown jewels, huh?” Rainbow said. “Well, they’d be a score for a jewel thief.”

“How would you sell anything so recognisable?” asked Blake.

Rainbow shrugged. “I suppose when you’re a master jewel thief, you get to know how this stuff works, contacts and such. The point is, it seems like a likely target.” She fell quiet for a few moments, tapping her fingers upon the tabletop. “Okay,” she said, at length, “here’s what we’re going to do.”

Author's Note

I'm away on Friday, so the next chapter will be on Monday 31st October

The Wrong Chair, Part Two (New)

The Wrong Chair, Part Two

“Comm check,” Rainbow said, tapping her earpiece as she spoke. “Everyone, report in.”

“This is Neon, there’s nothing to see here,” Neon answered from down below. “The museum has just shut its doors.”

“Keep patrolling around the outside; shout if you see anything suspicious,” Rainbow instructed.

“Aye aye, captain,” Neon replied.

“This is Blake; they’re putting the garbage out here at the back entrance,” Blake said. “I don’t think there’s anything suspicious about that.”

“I don’t know,” Neon said. “The prices they charge in the museum café are a little suspicious if you ask me.”

Rainbow snorted. “Focus, everyone,” she instructed.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t say ‘focus’ like we didn’t all hear you just then, Dashie,” said Neon.

“I can think it was funny and inappropriate at the same time,” Rainbow said. “Twilight, how are things at your end?”

“I’m monitoring Mantle’s security cameras for any sign of the suspect,” Twilight said. “So far, no luck.”

“And I am inside the museum’s own security system,” Midnight chimed in. “I will inform you if there are any system failures — provided those failures don’t take me out too.”

“Don’t joke about stuff like that, Midnight,” Twilight said.

“Why not?” Midnight asked. “Would you miss me if I wasn’t here?”

“Of course,” Twilight said. “Where else would I get my sarcastic commentary from?”

“I hardly know whether to be amused or affronted,” Midnight declared.

“You’re a really big help, Midnight,” Twilight said. “And I mean that sincerely. I’m lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, Twilight Sparkle,” Midnight said. “I think that you are my new favourite.”

Rainbow frowned. “Wasn’t Twilight always your favourite?”

“I told you that you used to be my favourite, Rainbow Dash.”

“Yeah, but I always knew that was a lie,” Rainbow said. “I thought Twilight was your favourite for sure.”

“And what would make you think that?” Midnight asked.

“Because…” Because she is you. “Okay then, who was it really?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Midnight?” Rainbow asked.

“A lady does not tell,” Midnight said.

“What?”

“Focus, Dashie,” Neon said, a touch of amusement entering her voice.

“Okay, fine, I deserve that,” Rainbow huffed. “Ciel, Penny, can you see anything from where you are?”

“We can see a lot,” Penny said. “We can see the whole main street and lots of side alleys and all the people and—”

“However, we cannot yet see anything relevant to our intentions here,” Ciel interrupted. “Unfortunately.”

“Give it time,” Rainbow told her. “The museum only just closed, remember; he’s not going to try anything while they’re still shutting up shop; most of the staff won’t have left yet; they’ll still be … taking the garbage out, like Blake said, sweeping the floor, that kind of thing.”

“Then why are we here?” Neon asked.

“Because if we wait until the time when a thief is likely to show up, then he might see us setting up,” Rainbow explained, again. “We need to be in position before he gets here. Speaking of which,” she tapped the side of her goggles, increasing the magnification to times four, turning in place as she swept her eyes across all of Mantle that she could see from her lofty perch on top of the museum.

The Museum of Mantle was one of the oldest buildings in the whole of Mantle; it had once been the royal palace, back when Mantle had been the capital of the kingdom instead of a has-been also ran, and parts of it had been burnt down in the revolution that followed right after the end of the war, when the Commune tried to take over the city. More of it had been wrecked when the army suppressed the Commune, but what was left had eventually been turned into a museum.

Rainbow thought that was kind of cool, but at the same time kind of odd. Like, it was really pretty cool, when you thought about it, that the actual building itself had as much history as the things that were stored inside of it, but at the same time … well, it was kind of odd when you thought about what kind of history it was. Madness, death, executions … and now, old vases.

And old jewellery too, of course, Rainbow thought. She wondered briefly what the old residents of the palace would have thought of that, the king who had tried to abolish self expression and the communards who had wanted to abolish property.

They’d all be turning in their graves.

Regardless … yes, regardless of what they would have thought about the kind of things that were now being stored beneath what had been, for a little bit at least, their roof, the Museum of Mantle was a tall edifice of white marble, and unlike a lot of places in Mantle, it was kept reasonably clean, although the amount of maintenance need to keep the marble from fading from white to a dull grey had proven beyond it. It was almost tower-like, at least what remained of the old building was, rising to a high pinnacle, a brass spire reaching up towards the sky. It was beneath the spire that Rainbow stood at the moment, high above the rest of the city, looking down upon the rest of Mantle from her high perch, like an eagle nesting at the top of a particularly tall tree, ready to swoop down the moment she saw a particularly appetising field mouse.

Or a chicken.

Rainbow’s plan was pretty straightforward, having divided assignments amongst the group based on their skill and abilities — Neon and Blake on the perimeter; Ciel and Penny keeping watching from a different and more accessible vantage point, a roof overlooking the main road to the museum; Twilight watching the city’s security cameras from inside The Bus; Midnight inside the security systems of the museum itself; Rainbow up here on the highest pinnacle — they were going to wait for their quarry to make an appearance and then nab him.

Admittedly, they didn’t know he was going to show up tonight, but then, they didn’t know that he wasn’t going to show up tonight either. They didn’t know when he was going to strike.

They couldn’t even say for definite that he was going to strike here at all, although it seemed a pretty good bet that he would, because there was no more tempting target than this in the whole of Mantle.

If he didn’t show up tonight … then they would have to come back tomorrow, and the night after that, and the night after that until Feathers Markinson showed himself … or it became undeniable that he wasn’t going to.

If that happened … if that happened, then Rainbow Dash would get the money herself, never mind Ciel’s parents and their working class pride. It was all very well for Sunset to talk about how ‘pride is the one thing that nobody can take away from you,’ and maybe it was, but you couldn’t eat it, you couldn’t take it to the bank, you couldn’t exchange it for life-saving medicine.

Rainbow had meant what she’d said in the diner: if Scootaloo had been dying, then there was nothing that she wouldn’t have done, no humiliation she wouldn’t have put herself through, in order to get her the help she needed. The alternative was … unthinkable.

Rainbow hadn’t known that Ciel’s brother was sick. She’d known that Ciel had six brothers, but she hadn’t known that one of them was fatally ill. It seemed like Ciel had wanted to keep it private, but that was no excuse. She ought to have known, even if it meant that she had to go snooping around to find out.

She could make up for it by helping to save him, if not this way, then by whatever means necessary.

For crying out loud, there was enough money in Atlas to pay for this; admittedly it wasn’t something from which Atlas as a whole would benefit … or would it? Who knew what Alain — yes, she knew their names; she just hadn’t known he was ill — would become? Who knew what he would do with his life if he was allowed to have one? He might become almost as great a scientist as Twilight, or compose a song that would inspire generations of Atlesians, or … anything, really. That was the cool thing about being a kid; you could be absolutely anything, provided you were given the opportunity.

And making sure you got those opportunities was the job of those who came before.

So even if Feathers Markinson had taken off from Mantle and high-tailed it to Vale or Mistral or somewhere, Rainbow would get that money for Ciel, even if she had to spend the rest of her life paying back Twilight’s parents and Councillor Cadance and everyone else she’d borrowed from to scrape it together.

But, in the meantime, she was on top of the roof of the museum, her magnified goggles allowing her to see what was going on in the world down below, watching, waiting. Hoping.

“I’ve got movement down here,” Blake said.

Rainbow turned that way, looking down towards the southeast, where the back door of the museum, the one that wasn’t open to the public, the one that lay behind a set of wrought iron gates, was located. Blake was down there, lurking in the shadows, able to see everything that was going on even as darkness fell on Mantle.

“You’re talking about the armoured truck, right?” Rainbow asked as she watched the black van-like vehicle drive up through the streets towards the back gates.

“Right,” Blake confirmed.

“I guess he would need something to put all the stuff he steals, unless he wants to carry it away in a sack,” Rainbow murmured.

“Shall we move in?” Neon asked.

“Penny and I are out of position here; we can’t see anything,” Ciel said. “We’re repositioning now.”

“Negative, not yet,” Rainbow said. “We don’t know that this is Markinson; we don’t know this is a getaway vehicle; we don’t want to move in or reposition, and it turns out to be caramel shortbreads for the café. Blake, what does that van look like to you? I can only see the roof from up here.”

“Hard to say,” Blake replied. “The windows are dark; it’s got a logo on the side. It doesn’t look like a bakery.”

“What does the logo look like?” Twilight asked. “Can you take a picture with your scroll?”

“Maybe,” Blake said. “It’s strange, it’s … grotesque, honestly; it’s a person with eyes all over their body.”

“Hmm,” Twilight said. “I’m sending you an image now; is that what you’re seeing?”

There was a few moments of pause, before Blake said, “Yes, that’s it.”

“It’s not our guy,” Twilight said. “That’s the logo of Argos Panopticon Security; they’re a private firm hired to provide security for the crown jewels by the Mistralian authorities.”

As Twilight spoke, a man in a suit emerged from the back door of the museum, buttoning up his long dark coat as he did so, and walked out towards the gate beyond which the van waited. He waved with one hand, and as he reached the gate, he pressed a button which caused the gate to swing open inwards. The van drove in, parking just outside the back doors as the man in the suit and coat shut the gates after them.

The doors of the van opened, and a half dozen armed men disembarked, all wearing black, with forage caps and what looked from up on the roof like submachine guns held in their hands.

Leaving their vehicle, they followed the man from the museum inside.

“Looks like we’ve got competition,” Rainbow said. “Six men, too uniformly equipped to be huntsmen, I think, but they probably have some training. Midnight, can you see what they’re doing in there?”

“Give me one moment, Rainbow Dash,” Midnight replied. A moment passed, and then another.

“They are moving into the rooms where the Mistralian jewellery and gowns are being exhibited,” Midnight said. “No, wait. Three men are remaining in those rooms, one on the entrance, one on the exit, and one patrolling.”

“And the other three?” Rainbow asked.

“Seem to be patrolling the rest of the museum’s seventh floor,” Midnight said.

“Reasonable,” Rainbow murmured. Half their numbers to stop people from getting close to the exhibits, the other half in case they did.

“What does this mean?” asked Penny.

“It means that we have competition,” Rainbow replied. “If we let these guys catch this thief, then we won’t get the reward for Alain. That said, it doesn’t change our operational plan: they’re inside, we’re out here, so if we all look alive and do our jobs, then we’ll still spot Markinson before they know he was anywhere nearby. So stay sharp, everyone. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

Ciel looked at the world through the scope of her rifle.

Ciel hadn’t taken Distant Thunder home with her — unlike in some kingdoms, Atlas operated strict licenses on who could have or carry weapons, and Ciel’s student license did not allow her to carry her weapon in Mantle; she, and everyone else, was breaking the law at present. It was something that she probably ought to have felt more guilty about than she did; perhaps Rainbow’s argument for arming the people of Mantle had affected her more than she thought, or else she simply wanted to accomplish so much, she was prepared to break the law for Alain’s sake — but Rainbow had brought it down from Atlas with her.

And so Ciel lay on her belly upon the roof of a three-storey Strunk and White’s — a bookstore — that sat on the main street leading to the museum. She lay on her belly, her chest resting upon a pillow she had borrowed from home — one of her pillows, lest she be accused of taking one of her brothers’ — and through her scope, she scanned the street beneath her.

It was dark and quiet. The sounds of traffic off in the distance were a mere background hum, and only the sounds of the trains passing by only a moderate distance behind her disturbed the stillness of the air at all. Darkness had fallen ere the museum closed its doors to the public, and they were a few hours past that point by now. Night was well and truly upon them, and while parts of Mantle were doubtless still alive, this part of the city had well and truly died. The road that led to the museum, the road that passed this very large bookshop — and the old-fashioned record shop, and the cafes — was wide, with two lanes for traffic and broad pavements for pedestrians on either side, but all of those were quiet now. There was no one around, except Neon, who could be seen lurking in the shadows if one knew where to look.

Ciel kept looking, never taking her eye away from the scope of her rifle, seeing the world that way — and through the single lens of the multi-purpose sight that she was wearing on a band around her forehead and which fell down to cover her shooting eye.

It had several modes, but right now, Ciel was using the night vision, casting the empty street into shades of green.

It was simple to see the world like this; not green, necessarily, but through the scope of a sniper rifle. It was easier than looking at it in the round.

You didn’t have to worry about what people thought of you when you were viewing them through the scope of a rifle.

Or when you couldn’t see them, because your world had shrunk to what could be perceived through said scope, and had no room for copper-topped androids.

“Ciel?” Penny said.

Of course, just because you couldn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there, or that they were without other means of getting your attention.

“Yes, Penny?” Ciel responded, her voice soft, barely disturbing the cool air.

“Why don’t you look at me?” Penny asked plaintively. “Why haven’t you said a word all night?”

What would we talk about? You’re leaving. It sounded petty and childish in Ciel’s head, but, well, it was how she felt, and why shouldn’t she be allowed to be petty and childish just this once? Why did she have to be so terribly grown-up all the time? Just because she was the eldest of seven siblings didn’t mean that she had to be the grown-up in every relationship.

Except it … did, didn’t it? At least when it came to Penny, young as she was. And so Ciel said, “I … am endeavouring to concentrate.”

“There’s nothing here,” Penny pointed.

“There may be something,” Ciel said.

“And you’ll see it whether you talk to me or not,” Penny said. “You don’t even have to look away; just say something.”

“What is it you would like me to say, Penny?” Ciel asked.

Penny let out a sort of wordless growl. “This isn’t fair!” she snapped. “You’re acting like I did something wrong!”

“No, I’m not,” Ciel said, but the words sounded feeble even to herself.

“Yes you are,” Penny insisted. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sulking like this.”

“I am not—”

“Then what would you call what you’re doing?” Penny demanded.

Ciel was silent for a moment. In fact, she stayed silent for longer than a moment, making no reply at all to Penny, letting the silence stretch out because … because there were no good answers here. Either she agreed that, yes, she was sulking, or she told Penny that the reason she hadn’t been talking to Penny was that she felt … she felt as though there was nothing to say between them.

She did not take her eyes off the scope, watching the street instead of watching Penny.

“Ciel?” Penny prodded.

“I am surprised you want me to speak to you,” Ciel muttered.

“That isn’t fair,” Penny said.

“Is it not?” Ciel demanded, still not looking away from her scope. “You are the one who made our friendship conditional on me helping you do what you wanted.”

“I want to be free!” Penny cried. “I want to be free to make my own choices, to do what I want instead of what other people have planned for me; if you don’t think I have the right to that, then how dare you call yourself my friend? How dare you?”

Again, Ciel did not reply. Penny’s own response … was difficult to argue with. With the heart … it had felt like blackmail, emotional or otherwise. But with the head … Penny could hardly be said to be wrong, could she? ‘A real friend would help me escape from the chains of slavery.’ Well … yes. Yes, they would. There wasn’t a lot you could say against that. It was difficult to argue that, no, actually, there were friends worth their salt who would refuse to help liberate their so-called friend from bondage, because the law or because of societal expectations or because they believed slavery to be philosophically justified.

‘When God is silent, heed the words of the King,’ the Lady said, in her epistle to the men of Mantle, appropriately enough. ‘But when God speaks through me, let the thunderous sound of His Word drown out the king and all his trumpets.’ What Ciel had always taken that to mean was that the laws of the state held no import when they came into conflict with the laws of her faith. Others, braver and wiser than herself, had seen it thus: in Mantle’s palace, in what was now the museum around which they all kept watch, the last king of Mantle had burned his Warden of the West to death for refusing to renounce her faith.

‘I am the King’s good servant,’ she had said, before they put the torch to her pyre, ‘but I am servant to the Lady first.’ So they had lit the flames, and two hundred men, good men no doubt, according to their lights, had watched her burn alive because the king commanded it so.

Compared to that, what reason had she for allowing Penny’s situation to continue for as long as she had? What did she risk, by helping Penny to escape from circumstances she found intolerable? How could she justify it, to Penny, to the Lady, to God?

“My Lady, I held the whip over a slave because General Ironwood commanded that I should. “

“And how loud does General Ironwood speak, that he roars louder than the thunder of His Word?”

“My Lady, I was unwilling to help a captive escape, because it pleased me to have them near at hand, and I did not wish them to go far.”

“And why was your pleasure more important than their liberty?”

“My Lady, I took her desire for freedom as a slight against me and was petulantly aggrieved.”

“Wherefore are you so proud, that such weighty questions must turn around your feelings?”

I must repent ere I be damned for this.

Distant Thunder trembled a little in her hands. “I … I’m sorry, Penny,” she whispered. “I have been … a poor servant. I have walked so proud and held my head so high and thought myself so very moral, and yet, I have forgot what are amongst the most fundamental teachings of our faith.”

She paused, and as she paused a ragged sigh escaped her lips. “‘For there is no slave in the House of God, and in His sight, all men are equal. Therefore I charge you see to it that as you are equal in the next life, so be you equal in this: keep no man in chains, deny none their liberty, let all be free to seek His Word.’ Words I should have heeded.”

“You didn’t think of it that way,” Penny said.

“Do not make excuses for me, Penny; it is unseemly that they should come from you, to whom I have…” Ciel trailed off for a moment. “I should be begging forgiveness of you, not lying here in petulant silence.”

There was a pause for a moment. “So you were sulking,” Penny said, with just a hint of a triumphant note.

The corner of Ciel’s lip twitched upwards into a smile. “Yes,” she admitted. “Amongst other things. Penny?”

“Yes, Ciel?”

“Why are you here?” Ciel asked. “In Mantle, I mean? Why did you come? The Lady knows you have little cause to help me.”

“Don’t I?” Penny asked.

Ciel briefly looked away from her scope and the little world that it encompassed to look at Penny. She was … she was astonished by the look of disbelief on Penny’s face; her question had not been spoken sarcastically; there was nought in her face but confusion.

“You are … we are … I do not deserve your friendship,” Ciel said, ever so softly, like a breath of mist upon a pane of glass.

“You thought you were doing the right thing,” Penny murmured.

“It is true that I, not seeing Atlesian service as a burden, did not see how it might seem burdensome to you, but that is no excuse,” Ciel said. “Right … moral right does not care how I see things, what I thought I was doing; it does not depend upon majority vote or orders from above — unless by 'above,' one means the powers of Heaven. Right is … right, as the Lady lays down for us. And yet, Rainbow Dash, godless as she is, has done more for you than I who call myself faithful.” She looked away, back into the scope of Distant Thunder. “I will be humble after and seek for grace. I should have taken you away from Atlas as soon as I could.”

“And go where?” Penny said.

“To Beacon, as you wish.”

“I didn’t know that I wanted to stay there then.”

“And yet you fled,” Ciel pointed out. “I should have thought what it meant when we set out to bring you back. I should have realized that it made me a slave catcher.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Penny urged. “I don’t blame you. That’s not what this is about. What’s past is … it’s past. It’s over with. It’s all done now. This last year has been … wonderful. The friends I’ve made … I wouldn’t risk that by changing anything, even if it meant that I was free earlier. If being free meant that I didn’t meet Ruby or Pyrrha or Sunset, then … then I’m glad you came to get me. Although, yes, I’m also glad that Rainbow is team leader instead of you, because you would have taken me back to Atlas, wouldn’t you?”

“Guilty,” Ciel muttered.

“You didn’t think of it … you didn’t think of me … I understand,” Penny said. “Just like I understand that there are a lot of practical issues with me not being part of Atlas anymore. Maybe I won’t be able to be maintained, maybe I’ll break, piece by piece, until nothing works.”

“You should not speak so glibly about—”

“But everyone dies, don’t they?” Penny asked. “Ruby is going to die, and Pyrrha and Sunset; you, Rainbow Dash, General Ironwood. I don’t think I’d want to live forever, getting all of my parts replaced over and over again, living on when everybody else is gone.”

“I am sure that you would have no trouble making new friends,” Ciel pointed out.

“But what if I don’t want to?” Penny asked. “What if I’d rather…”

“Die?” Ciel asked.

“Death … could be a grand adventure, don’t you think?” Penny asked. “The point is that … I don’t want you to feel bad about what you’ve done; I just … I just want you to understand why I’m doing this, why I want … what I want. I want you to understand why I … why I don’t love you, the way you’d like me to.”

“In your position, I would not love me either,” Ciel admitted. “And yet … and yet, I think that you must love me more than I deserve or—”

“Sunset says that love has nothing to do with what we deserve,” Penny said.

“Does she?”

“Yes,” Penny replied. “She says it to Jaune.”

“However she intends it, that cannot help but sound harsh,” Ciel remarked. “For all of Pyrrha’s fine qualities, Jaune is … a fine young man, possessed of many excellent qualities of his own, for all that he lacks skill.”

Penny was quiet for a moment. “Do you like Jaune?”

“Certainly not, and I should certainly not admit it if I did, involved as he is,” Ciel said sharply. “But he is a gentleman, and one cannot help but admire that in this day and age. He hardly…” She chuckled. “He hardly deserves to be told that he does not deserve Pyrrha, as Sunset’s statement implies. And yet … and yet, it is a comforting thought, in general, I must confess.”

Once more, she paused briefly. “Thank you, Penny.”

“For what?”

“For coming,” Ciel said. “In spite of everything. I am … I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here, too,” Penny said. “I meant what I said in the diner; if you need help … just because I can’t be the little sister you wanted me to be doesn’t mean that we can’t be friends, even friends who live in different kingdoms. I could call you.”

Ciel closed her eyes for a moment. “I … I would like that, Penny,” she said softly. “I would like that very much.”

“Rainbow Dash, I’ve got something on the cameras.”

“Which direction? Is it our guy?” Rainbow asked.

“No,” Twilight replied. “It’s … Doctor Polendina.”

“Dad?” Penny asked.

“Which Doctor Polendina, Twi?” asked Rainbow.

“Pietro.”

“Right, that’s obvious,” Rainbow muttered. What would the other Doctor Polendina be doing in a place like this?

Well, he might be coming to skin me alive for bringing Penny to Mantle, but other than that…

“What about Dad?” Penny demanded. “Is he okay?”

“He seems to be,” Twilight said cautiously. “He’s … on his chair.”

“You mean like sitting down on the street?” Neon said.

“It’s a walking chair,” Twilight explained. “It has legs, and a semi-autonomous guidance system connected to the CCT that means that, for longer journeys, Doctor Polendina doesn’t need to drive the chair himself but can simply program in his destination, and the chair will convey him by the swiftest route.”

“Fancy,” Neon said.

“You know a lot about it,” Blake observed. “Did you help with the programming, by any chance?”

“I was able to do my part, yes.”

“That’s great,” Rainbow said, “but … I suppose it is kind of strange that a man his age is out and about at this time of night, but it’s not like there’s a curfew. So—”

“It’s strange that Doctor Polendina is on his way to the museum,” Twilight said.

“What?” Rainbow said. “Here? Are you sure about that?”

“I’m positive,” Twilight replied. “I’ve been monitoring Doctor Polendina for some time as he passes from camera to camera, but I didn’t say anything until I was sure that he was headed in your direction. It’s weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow murmured. It was weird, if only because everything around here was closed at this time of night. “Where’s he coming from?”

“The direction he’s approaching from will bring him down Thermidor.”

Thermidor Road was the main road that approached the museum from the front. Rainbow was already facing that direction, so she tapped the side of her goggles once to increase the magnification yet further, casting her gaze out across Mantle in the hopes of spotting the good doctor before he actually turned onto the road itself.

Even at high magnifications, she wasn’t getting a brilliant view, but she thought that she could see him — a man in a personalized robot chair was pretty distinctive. It was like Twilight said; he was heading their way.

Although he hadn’t actually reached Thermidor yet, it was possible that he was just out for a stroll, in a manner of speaking. After all, just because he couldn’t walk or run long distances didn’t mean that he had to confine himself to his clinic, never seeing the sights or feeling the air on his face. What was the point of having a robot chair to carry you around if you let yourself become a prisoner in your own home anyway? Maybe he wanted to go out at night because there was no one else around to get in his way or make remarks about his chair, or just because he liked to look up at the moon. It was a free kingdom, after all.

But at the same time … something about this … the fact that he was on his way here, in their direction. It didn’t feel right.

Rainbow considered having Penny run down and intercept her Dad; he’d love to see her, and if he really was on an innocent and unassuming walk, then they could go together.

And if there was anything shady going on, then Penny would be in the middle of it.

“Twilight, is Doctor Polendina alone?”

“I … think so?” Twilight replied.

“You think so?” Rainbow repeated. “Is there anyone else there, or isn’t there?”

“I can’t see anyone else,” Twilight said, “but … I don’t know; I sometimes think there’s movement in the shadows, but it’s too dark for me to make out.”

“Don’t these cameras have any night modes?” Rainbow demanded.

“No.”

“That’s a lot of good at night, isn’t it?” Rainbow grumbled.

“There is something else,” Twilight said. “Something strange.”

“Go on.”

“Doctor Polendina has his Handy Hands attached to his chair.”

There was a moment of silence.

“His … Handy Hands?” Blake asked.

“They’re a pair of robotic hands fitted onto a unit that can be attached or detached from the back of Doctor Polendina’s chair or worn like a backpack,” Twilight explained. “They have a long reach, so they can be used to get jars off the top shelves or reach into distant nooks and crannies. They’re very useful, but why would he be wearing them outside?”

“Maybe he forgot to take them off after he put the cookie jar back?” Neon suggested.

Rainbow frowned. “Midnight, what’s the situation inside?”

“Unchanged,” Midnight replied. “Everything seems normal, and the mercenaries from Argos Panopticon are continuing their patrols.”

“Okay, thanks,” Rainbow said softly. “Neon, Blake, keep an eye out; don’t get distracted. Twilight, don’t focus too much on Doctor Polendina; we still need to be looking out for Markinson.”

“What about Dad?” Penny asked.

“We’ll keep an eye on him, Penny,” Rainbow assured her. “In fact, I’ve got both eyes on him right now.”

Doctor Polendina moved inexorably in their direction, carried by his chair step by step towards the museum. As he got closer, Rainbow could see him in more detail; she could see what must be the Handy Hands, actually a pair of claws — three claws on each ‘hand’ — attached to what looked like a canister fitted to the back of Doctor Polendina’s chair.

As he got closer, Rainbow could also see that Doctor Polendina had his eyes closed, and he was slumped forward a little in his chair.

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, “does Doctor Polendina look asleep to you?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, he does. He must have programmed his chair to take him … to where you are, and then fallen asleep.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured, beginning to doubt that Doctor Polendina had programmed his chair to take him anywhere, because not only was he asleep, but he was also wearing his pyjamas: a string vest and a pair of white boxer shorts with big red dots on them. Which, first of all, the fact that he was walking around in his PJs, and second of all, it wasn’t exactly warm out here at night; it probably wasn’t healthy for an old man to have so little on.

Rainbow could believe that he wanted to go out for a walk; she could believe that he might programme his chair to take him for a walk and then fall asleep — it was late, after all. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that he would go out dressed for bed without putting so much as a coat on first.

And he was definitely coming this way. In fact, he had turned onto Thermidor Road already and was advancing straight towards the museum.

“What do we do, Dashie?” asked Neon.

“Penny, get down there, wake your Dad up, and take him—” Rainbow stopped.

She stopped because Doctor Polendina had stopped, about halfway down the road, halfway to the museum. He was on the actual road part of the road and would have been at risk from the traffic if there had been any traffic to speak of. He was standing there, or rather, his chair was standing there, while Doctor Polendina continued to slump and slumber in his seat.

“Everyone hold,” Rainbow ordered. Perhaps this was the destination, and the chair would soon turn around to take him home.

It did not move.

“Movement,” Ciel hissed. “Someone approaching … target sighted!”

“Confirmed,” Rainbow said, because she saw him too: Feathers Markinson, instantly recognizable with that chicken crest on his head; the beady black eyes on the picture were not as visible when you were looking in night vision, but all the same, it was definitely him. There was something familiar about him, and not from his wanted poster either. Rainbow couldn’t work out what it was.

It didn’t matter. He was there, and he was starting to walk towards Doctor Polendina. At this point, it didn’t matter why Doctor Polendina was there; if they let him get to him, then he could take the doctor hostage or he could just get hurt.

They needed to stop him now.

“Neon, grab him now!” Rainbow snapped.

“Copy that,” Neon said.

There was a rainbow blur, a streak of spectral light that lit up the darkness, a brilliant white that cut through Rainbow’s night vision, as Neon closed the distance to the target faster than a speeding bullet.

With one fist, she hit Feathers across the jaw, knocking him to the ground and his crest right off his head. It landed on the road beside him, revealing—

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “It’s the penguin?!”

“What?” Blake demanded. “'Penguin'? What’s going on?”

“Markinson, he’s not a chicken faunus at all,” Rainbow said. “He’s a penguin faunus wearing a fake chicken crest. He’s also Doctor Polendina’s lodger; that’s where I recognized him from.”

“Huh,” Neon muttered as she rolled Feathers over and pinned both his arms behind him. “Clever. A lot of people don’t look beyond faunus traits.”

“They do,” Rainbow said. “It’s just that they’re kind of a big deal, so … never mind. Ciel, call the police; Penny, go—”

Neon squawked in alarm as one of Doctor Polendina’s Handy Hands rotated to face behind the doctor and his chair, shot out and grabbed Neon by the throat, yanking her backwards and up into the air before slamming her down, head first, into the road.

Feathers, his captor lifted from off his back, sprang to his feet and started to run.

“I have a shot,” Ciel said dispassionately.

“Don’t shoot him; if you do that, you’ll be getting a murder charge instead of a reward,” Rainbow said. She leapt off the roof of the museum, her Wings of Harmony unfurling out of her backpack to spread out on either side of her, catching the Mantle air as she fell with style towards the streets below. “Neon, are you okay?”

Neon groaned wordlessly as the Handy Hand picked her up and slammed her down into the road a second time, even as Doctor Polendina’s chair began to walk towards her. “Am I allowed to break this thing?”

“No, Doctor Polendina still needs it for the tall shelves,” Rainbow replied. “Midnight, can you lock the museum down?”

“Is three the first digit of pi?” Midnight replied. “Yes, yes it is.”

“Great,” Rainbow said. That would stop the mercenaries from getting out and interfering. “Once you’ve done that, I think that Doctor Polendina’s chair has been hacked, so I need you to get in there and … counterhack it.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, do you?”

“Just fix the chair,” Rainbow said. “Blake, come around the front; there’s no point in you hanging around the back anymore.”

“Understood,” Blake said. “I’m on my way.”

"Neon, I'm going to need you to tough it out for a little bit, okay?" Rainbow said.

"Sure," Neon groaned, as she was dragged across the tarmac towards Doctor Polendina's chair. Said chair stepped forward, planting a leg upon Neon's stomach, pinning her to the ground. "I'm doing awesome here."

"Ciel, keep him in sight; Penny, stay where you are for now," Rainbow ordered.

"Why?" Penny demanded. "I can get him."

"You should be there for your dad, Penny," Rainbow said. Also, I'm almost certain that Markinson hacked his chair, and I don't want to put you up against someone like that. She didn't actually know if it was possible to hack Penny, but since Penny's systems could be overridden — she'd seen Twilight do it, if only with Penny's consent — she couldn't say that it was impossible. And she'd hate to find out for sure because Penny actually got hacked by some low-life jewel thief.

She would have told Penny all of that, except that Neon didn't know that she was a robot, and it wasn't a great time to fill her in.

Rainbow levelled out, the jetpack of the Wings of Harmony firing as she ceased to fall and began to fly instead, soaring above Thermidor Road. Feathers Markinson was below her, running down said road. He was like a mouse, and she was the owl on the prowl.

Nevertheless, because she didn't want to find herself being grabbed by the ankle by the other one of Doctor Polendina's Handy Hands just as she was about to grab their quarry, Rainbow didn't immediately swoop down upon him. Rather she let him run, putting distance between himself and Doctor Polendina — putting too much distance for the Handy Hand to help him now.

Feathers looked up and behind him; Rainbow didn't know if penguins had good night vision or not, but he seemed to be able to spot Rainbow Dash, because he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol.

BANG!

The roar of Distant Thunder shattered the night, temporarily blotting out the sounds of the trains rattling by. The gun in Feathers' hand disappeared, although the word didn't do justice to how much it seemed to hurt Feathers himself, who stumbled, clutching at his hand, although he didn't yell or cry or make any sound of pain.

Nor did it slow him down for long; he picked himself up again quickly and resumed his attempted escape.

"Nice shot, Ciel."

"One tries one's best," Ciel murmured.

Rainbow swooped down upon her prey; there was no way that he could get away from her on foot.

A transit van screeched out of the night; it was white, unmarked, and most bizarrely of all, there was no driver in the cab, and yet, it burst into view, back doors open, beating at the sides of the van as they flapped backwards and forwards. The van slowed at the entrance into Thermidor Road; it didn't stop, but it did slow down; it slowed down enough for Feathers to throw himself into the back of the van — which looked otherwise empty from what glimpse Rainbow could catch of it — before the doors slammed shut behind him.

Rainbow landed on the roof of the van just as it accelerated away, leaving the museum behind and heading in the direction of the railway line.

"Twi," she said, "I need you to send Blake directions to the nearest level crossing; Blake, get there, and if necessary, I'll meet you there."

"I am inside Doctor Polendina's assistive devices," Midnight declared. "However, there is no sign of any virus present."

Makes sense. "Thanks, Midnight. Penny, wake your dad up, walk him home, make him some hot cocoa, and put him to bed. Ciel, go with her."

"But I—"

"I've got this, and I've got Blake to back me up if need be," Rainbow said. "Neon, do you think you can catch up with a speeding van?"

"I'm a cat, not a dog, Dashie," Neon grumbled. "But I'll give it a try."

"Thanks," Rainbow said.

Not that I'll need the help, if I can end this now.

She knelt on the roof of the speeding van, clinging to it with one hand. Her other hand, she balled into a fist, and without even needing to focus her aura — still less to use an aura boom of any size — she punched a hole through the flimsy metal. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the hole she had made and began to peel away the metal of the roof, like peeling away the tin foil around a roast bird.

The van swerved sharply, veering hard to the right, and Rainbow lost her grip on the tear in the roof as she needed both hands to keep from being thrown clear across the road into the buildings beyond. She clung on, her knuckles turning white, and she did not let go.

The hard right turn became an equally hard swerve to the left, and this time, Rainbow found herself holding onto entirely the wrong side of the roof.

Rainbow curled into a ball as she was thrown clear, but she felt the impact nonetheless, her aura dropping as she bounced and rolled across the tarmac. She rolled upright and onto her feet in time to see Feathers' van speeding away, heading towards the railway line once more.

Rainbow gave chase, a rainbow trail bursting out behind her, illuminating the streets of Mantle as she pounded down them in pursuit of the van. Once she had closed some of the distance, Rainbow switched to the Wings of Harmony once more, choosing to burn dust instead of her aura as she flew low level — very low level; her feet were barely off the ground — behind the fleeing van. It was a little slower than running, but she wouldn't run out of aura this way, and she wasn't worried about the van with Feathers in it getting away.

She had a pretty good idea where he was going.

Feathers didn't seem much interested in throwing her off course. He made a few swerves, turned an unexpected direction a couple of times, and once or twice, Rainbow had to fly up to get vantage enough to spot him again, but he always went back to the same way that he'd been going before: towards the railway line.

They were almost at the crossing now; the barriers were down at the point where the road met the rails, and there was a train approaching: a big, automated SDC freight train heading north towards Atlas, carrying a cargo of dust for the big elevators up to the city in the clouds.

There was no sign of Blake, which was unfortunate.

As the van approached, screeching up to the barrier, the train which had been thundering down the line, pounding at the rails, seemed to Rainbow Dash to slow down just a little bit.

The van reached the barrier, and as it did so, it spun to a halt, tyres screeching, leaving black marks upon the road; the rear doors flew open, and Feathers leapt out, ducking beneath the barrier and throwing himself at the oncoming train, grabbing the metal ladder and pulling himself up onto one of the rear cargo cars, disappearing inside.

Rainbow landed upon the roof of the caboose, folding her wings up behind her.

"What took you so long?" Blake asked.

Blake allowed herself a degree of amusement at the look of surprise on Rainbow's face.

"Blake?" she said. "How did you—?"

"Instead of directing me to the crossing, Twilight led me to the closest point on the railway line, and I boarded the train there," Blake explained. She smiled. "I do have some experience with this kind of thing."

"Yeah," Rainbow muttered. She paused for a moment. "You know, sooner or later, we always seem to end up on a train, don't we?"

"Perhaps it's a sign we should take up trainspotting?"

Rainbow snorted.

There was a jolt, and the rail car they were on began to slow down — as the rest of the train began to move away from it.

"Gotta move," Rainbow said, and she and Blake leapt the growing distance onto the next car, leaving the rearmost car on the train behind them, gradually slowing to a halt upon the rails.

"Twilight," Rainbow said, "inform the authorities there's a stranded railway carriage stuck on the line, someone should clear that up before there's an accident."

"Understood; I'll let Rail Traffic Control know."

To Blake, Rainbow said, "I'm pretty sure that this guy has a hacking semblance. That's how he took control of Doctor Polendina's chair and got his getaway van to move without a driver and detached the last car of this train."

That will be why you kept Penny far away, I suppose, Blake thought. She'd attributed it simply to Rainbow's protectiveness, but it turned out there was a sound reason behind it. Blake wouldn't want to take on a hacked Penny in a fight, nor would she wish that kind of violation upon the other girl.

Of course, Rainbow's assumption also raised the question of train security. Blake drew Gambol Shroud. "So what you're saying is that we might have to do this the hard way?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Rainbow said, as she drew Blunt Honesty and Plain Awesome from their holsters at her hips. "But … yeah, pretty much."

Blake's lips twitched upwards. Well, it won't be the first time. With a single swing of Gambol Shroud, she sliced open the lock that secured the rooftop hatch, then bent down to open it up.

Rainbow went first, dropping down into the railway car, with Blake following.

The hatch banged shut after her, enclosing them both in darkness.

A darkness in which Blake for one could see the Atlesian AK-130s lining the walls.

"Haven't you replaced all of these with the new models yet?" Blake asked.

"It's an unmanned train running between Atlas and Mantle; these units will be the last ones to be replaced," Rainbow replied. "Besides, it hasn't even been a year since the 200 rolled out; give it time."

The faces of the AK-130s began to glow a bloody red, illuminating the robots and the car; the light died down a little as, one by one, the visors on the androids slammed down, leaving only a crimson slit burning like fire.

The androids stepped down off their docks, moving to surround Blake and Rainbow Dash.

"Intruder, identify yourself," came the demand in that tinny, robotic voice.

"Get down!" Rainbow snapped, and Blake ducked as Rainbow began to fire, spraying rounds in all directions from her machine pistols, turning in place to sweep her weapons across the androids.

Some went down, riddled with bullets; others, though damaged and pockmarked by the fire, transformed their arms into three-barrelled rotary machine guns and took aim.

Blake sprang at them like a tiger, Gambol Shroud in one hand and her cleaver-scabbard in the other, cleaving one android into three with a succession of rapid slashes, then cutting another in two down the middle with a downward stroke.

One android, its arms transformed into blades, lunged at Rainbow Dash, who grabbed one arm, wrenched it off the AK-130, then used the arm blade to stab it through the face.

The androids rushed at them with blades or stood off and fired at them with guns, but it didn't really matter; Blake and Rainbow destroyed them all just the same: shooting them, cutting them to pieces, beating them into submission with their bare hands, that last being more Rainbow Dash than Blake, for obvious reasons.

It was funny; their fighting styles didn't really match up — Rainbow, for all the speed of her semblance, had a stolid quality about her fighting; she preferred to meet force with force rather than using any finesse — and Blake couldn't say that they were in sync the way that she and Adam had been; she couldn't predict exactly what Rainbow was going to do next, nor could Rainbow predict what she could do in such a way they found themselves combining attacks without needing to be instructed. But despite that, they found themselves falling into a routine as they cleared out each train car or each flatbed in turn: Rainbow would take the lead, guns blazing, battering down the first wave of the android opposition to them until she ran out of ammunition and had to reload; when that happened, Blake would take over, leaping ahead to cut a swathe through the ranks of the outdated androids, firing until she got too close, then switching Gambol Shroud back to sword mode to cleave her way forward; Rainbow followed her at that point, mopping up any androids that she had left behind in her headlong rush.

It was not difficult; in fact, it was so not difficult that Blake had time to realise just how … how comfortable she felt, doing this, with Rainbow Dash.

With her new partner.

They fought their way forwards through the train, with no sign of Feathers Markinson even when they came to the last car; from here, Blake thought, it would be nothing but flatbeds until they reached the engine itself.

This last car was empty.

Except, as Blake already knew, that meant that it was not.

Blake looked up, snapping off two shots from Gambol Shroud as the spider droid dropped down from the ceiling, landing heavily upon its four claw-like legs, unfolding itself to its full, large height.

"I'll buy you some time!" Blake cried.

"Buy me some time for what?" Rainbow demanded as she leapt past Blake, one fist drawn.

Oh. Yeah. Right.

Rainbow roared wordlessly as she punched the spider droid square in its face; there was a thunderous crack, a shockwave that brushed over Blake's face and sent her hair flying in all directions, and the spider droid shattered into fragments that clattered to the floor of the train car.

"Impressive," Blake said as Rainbow landed. "How's your aura?"

"Low," Rainbow admitted. "But I'll be okay. Come on, he doesn't have much further to run at this point."

They burst out of the train carriage. Feathers Markinson stood on the edge of the next car, a flatbed half-loaded with SDC crates.

The coupling between their two cars detached, and the part of the train that Blake and Rainbow Dash were on began to slow down as the last remaining part of the train, still attached to the engine, began to pull away.

Feathers watched them both dispassionately, his face, his little black eyes, without expression.

"Rainbow!" Blake cried. "Give me a boost!"

"You got it," Rainbow said, making a cradle with her hands.

Blake put one foot into the impromptu stirrup Rainbow had made. Rainbow threw her up and across, and as she gave Blake a push, she concentrated all the aura that she had left into her hands to propel Blake upwards and forwards, strengthening Blake's leap to carry her across the burgeoning gap, over Feathers' head, and land on the flat car behind him.

Blake didn't know if there was anything left on this part of the train for him to hack, but she wasn't going to take any chances; with one hand, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, hauling him backwards away from the gap; with the other hand, she hit him hard enough to knock him out with a single punch.

As he hit the ground, Blake tapped her earpiece. "Target is secure, awaiting pickup. Ciel? It's going to be okay. We got him."

Author's Note

This will be the last chapter for a month, as I'm taking a break from this story to do NaNoWriMo for the first time in several years. The story will resume on Friday the 2nd December

The Ones Who Walk Away From Atlas (New)

The Ones Who Walk Away From Atlas

“How are you feeling, Dad?” Penny asked, bending down and placing a hand upon Pietro’s arm.

Pietro chuckled. “Well,” he said, “that’s the funny thing about getting your chair hacked while you’re sleeping — I’ve been on this big adventure, and I never even noticed it happening. So most of what I feel is just a little bit of a fool for taking a lodger in.” He coughed. “And a little bit cold, I suppose.”

“Here, drink this, Doctor,” Ciel said, stepping out of the pantry with a steaming hot cup of something cradled in both hands. “It will warm you up a little before bed.”

“Thank you,” Pietro said, accepting the cup from Ciel’s unprotesting hands. “It’s Ciel Soleil, isn’t it?”

Ciel curtsied. “Indeed, Doctor, we have met before, when I was … assigned to Team Rosepetal. And this,” she gestured to Neon, who was leaning against the wall of the clinic with her arms folded across her chest, “is my good friend, Neon Katt.”

The legs of Pietro’s chair whirred and whined and thumped upon the floor as Pietro turned around to face Neon. “I’m sorry about my Handy Hands throwing you around, I—”

“Weren’t in charge of them at the time, I know, Doc; it’s fine,” Neon said. She grinned momentarily. “Maybe upgrade your antivirus software though, huh?”

“As Rainbow Dash has explained, Feathers Markinson possesses a hacking semblance,” Midnight declared, her voice seeming to issue out of nowhere; Penny wasn’t sure exactly where she was right now. “No amount of antiviral protections would have sufficed in this instance.”

Neon blinked. “So … with a semblance like that, it’s impossible to keep him out?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Neon’s eyes widened. “So … what you’re saying is that we should be really, really glad that he only wanted to use it to steal things and not to take over Atlas or join the White Fang or something.”

Or join up with Salem, Penny thought.

“You make a very good, if very frightening, point,” Ciel murmured. “Thank the Lady for petty ambitions, it seems.”

“Will we be able to hold him?” Penny asked. “If he can hack anything with his semblance, what’s to stop him from opening his cell and walking out?”

“Guards with guns,” Neon suggested.

“He will probably spend the rest of his life with his aura suppressed,” Ciel said. “Unfortunate for him, but for the public good.”

Pietro drank some of his hot drink. “This is very nice, Miss Soleil, thank you.”

“I am glad you like it, Doctor,” Ciel replied.

“It’s making me feel better already,” Pietro added. “Although it doesn’t make me feel any less of a fool. Having a wanted criminal under my roof the whole time!”

“He wore a disguise,” Penny pointed out. “Everyone thought that he was a completely different kind of faunus to what he actually turned out to be in the end. How were you supposed to know any better?”

Pietro chuckled once again. “Just because I wasn’t the only one to get taken in doesn’t mean that the taking feels any better, darling. Just because I wasn’t the only one fooled, it doesn’t stop me feeling any less of a fool for being part of it.”

“If I may, Doctor,” Ciel said, “if you had not taken in this felon as your lodger, we might not have been in a position to apprehend him and secure the reward money. So, in a way, you have done me and my family a great service.”

“All things as the Lady wills,” Neon murmured.

“I certainly hope so,” Ciel said softly.

“I know you’re only trying to make an old man feel better,” Pietro said, “but I appreciate the effort.”

He looked at Penny. “I’m glad to see you; I’m even more glad that you came down here to see me, although I do wish that it was under different circumstances.”

Penny smiled down at him. “Well, that was the plan, but I’m here now, and I’m sure that Rainbow will bring me back down for another visit, for as many visits as we like, before I have to go back to Beacon.”

“That would be wonderful,” Pietro said. “I’d like to have a chance to actually talk to you without feeling so…” — he let out a great yawn — “without feeling so tired.”

“Are you finished with your drink, Doctor?” Ciel asked.

“Oh, oh, yes, thank you; it was delicious,” Pietro said, “even if it is making me drowsy.”

“I would hardly want to keep you awake, Doctor,” Ciel said, recovering the cup smoothly before Dad could drop it. “Penny’s presence notwithstanding, it is the time of night for drowsiness.”

“And yet you haven’t had to stifle a yawn once,” Pietro pointed out. “Oh, to be young again.”

“Do you want to go to bed now, Dad?” Penny asked.

Pietro hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think that’s probably—”

“Doc?” The door opened, and a woman walked into the clinic; she was tall, with a long, sallow-skinned face and short hair of very pale blonde pinned up behind her head. She was dressed in a long coat of black and grey that swished around her as she walked, and it was open to reveal a blood red shirt beneath. “Doc, I heard you’d got into some trouble, are you—?” She stopped, one hand clenching into a fist and coming to rest upon her hip. “I see you’ve got company.”

“Robyn,” Pietro said, “this is my daughter Penny, and—”

“We’ve met before,” Neon said, almost growling. Her tail was rigid behind her as she peeled herself off the wall and moved to stand between this woman — Robyn, Dad had called her — and the others. “What are you doing here, and what do you want?”

She smiled. “No need to be so hostile, kid. There aren’t any murderers here. Are there?”

“Dad?” Penny said. “Who is this?”

“Robyn Hill,” Robyn announced. “Leader of the Happy Huntresses, Protector of Mantle. I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard of me.”

“Your poor ego,” Neon muttered.

Am I supposed to know who she is? Is she famous? Why don’t I know who she is?

“Penny has been staying in Atlas with her … other father,” Pietro said. “This is her first time in Mantle.”

Robyn’s eyes narrowed. “You got screwed on the custody, huh, Doc? Although I’ve got to say I’m surprised; I didn’t realise you’d been married.”

“I’ve been able to keep my private life pretty private,” Pietro said. “I guess I’m lucky to not be good-looking enough to be worth anyone’s time trying to turn me into a celebrity.”

Robyn let out a bitter laugh. “You’re not wrong, there. First they stick you up on a poster, and then…” She half-turned away from them. “And then the only way is disappointment.”

“You speak as though you were not responsible for your own actions,” Ciel observed.

Robyn glanced at her. “I made my choices,” she said, “I decided for myself what actions I would take. But the choice to judge me for those actions? That was made by others, not by me.”

What actions? What choices? Penny wondered, wishing that she had all the context she was clearly missing.

Robyn looked at her. “I know that these two are fine Atlas gallants, but what about you?”

“I’ve been at Atlas this year,” Penny replied. “Well, actually, I’ve been at Beacon all of last year, but I was at Beacon as an Atlas student, but we’ve been at Beacon because of the Vytal Festival, where all the students from the different schools—”

“Attend the host school for second semester, yes, I remember how that works,” Robyn cut her off. “I know that at your age, everyone older than twenty looks ancient, but I promise, I’m not that old.” She sighed. “Ten years ago, when I competed, the tournament was held in Atlas, so I was unfortunately denied the benefit of any time away. A pity. I would have liked to have seen Mistral or Vale when I was still your age. But you are an Atlas student, yes?”

“Sort of,” Penny said. “I’m planning to transfer to Beacon next year.”

Robyn’s eyebrows rose. “Are you now?” she asked. “And you admit it openly in front of these two?” she gestured to Ciel and Neon.

“Robyn,” Pietro murmured. “Maybe—”

Penny frowned. “'Admit it'? Why wouldn’t I?”

“To spare yourself the obloquy and the hostility that is about to descend upon you?” Robyn suggested. “To spare yourself the harassment, the ridicule?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She is generalising from her own experience,” Ciel said sharply, “and editorialising to a grotesque extent to boot.”

“No one is allowed to walk away from Atlas,” Robyn declared. “No one is allowed to walk away from paradise; no one is even allowed to want to. Everyone should want to be a part of Atlas, and if you don’t … that’s unacceptable.”

“Do not compare your situation with Penny’s,” Ciel snapped. “You did not just transfer schools in between years; if you had wanted to see Mistral so badly, you could have studied at Haven, and nobody would have batted an eye, but instead, you betrayed your oath, your uniform, your duty, and General Ironwood. And one day, you will suffer the consequences of that.” She paused for a moment. “Now, did you have any business here, or did you simply come to bandy crooked words?”

Robyn chuckled. “‘My oath, my uniform, my duty, and General Ironwood,’” she mused. “One of those things … but leave that. It’s late, I can see that I’m bothering you, and … I didn’t come here to pick a fight. But Doctor Polendina is an important figure in this community, many people with prosthetics and disabilities depend upon his help, and as a leader of this community, that means that I’m entitled to take an interest in his wellbeing. So how are you doing, Doc? I heard you got into some trouble?”

“I suppose I did,” Pietro said, scratching the side of his face with one finger. “Although to tell you the truth, I was asleep for most of it.”

Robyn laughed. “That’s the best way to spend a crisis, I’m sure. Provided that you wake up and it’s all been resolved satisfactorily.”

“It was,” Pietro assured her. “My daughter and her friends took care of me.”

“I see,” Robyn murmured. “Then it seems I owe you thanks, and I will thank you in the best way that I think I can, by leaving you alone.” She turned away and headed towards the door. “Take care of yourself, Doctor; remember that we need you down here. I’ll see you around.”

She pushed open the door, admitting a blast of cold air into the clinic, and waved with one hand behind her as she stepped out into the street.

The door shut behind her.

Neon folded her arms. “I do not like that woman.”

“Who is she?” asked Penny. “Do you all know her? Why didn’t I know her?”

“Because you’re not from around here, probably,” Neon suggested. “If you lived in Mantle, you’d know who Robyn Hill was. Everyone knows who Robyn Hill is down here.”

“She is a vigilante,” Ciel explained. “She and her companions—”

“I know that she’s not very popular in Atlas,” Pietro said, “but here in Mantle … sometimes, it seems like she’s the only one who gives a damn about what happens down here.”

Ciel pursed her lips together, but rather than saying anything, she checked the time on her watch. “This hardly seems the hour for a political discussion, certainly not one in which tempers may become heated and passions aroused. I promise not to poison Penny’s mind against Robyn Hill if you would wish it otherwise, but Doctor, I think it is probably past your bedtime.”

“You’re not wrong,” Pietro said. “You’re not wrong.”

There was a small elevator in the back of the clinic, and Dad’s chair began to carry him that way, legs plodding forwards, whirring as they moved, thumping on the floor. Penny followed him, her own steps lighter, leaving Ciel and Neon behind — the elevator wasn’t big enough for all of them — as Pietro moved out of the public facing areas and into the back of the building that was his workspace and his home.

The elevator was more like a cargo carrier than any of the lifts at Beacon, just a square platform to stand on and a hole cut in the ceiling for it to rise up through. Pietro’s chair carried him onto said platform, and there was room for Penny to squeeze in there as well before the elevator carried them both upwards, the floor beneath their feet rising, the hatch in the ceiling opening, until they stood in Pietro’s bedroom.

The lights were off, and the curtains were drawn, and the whole room was dark.

“I’ll get the lights,” Penny said, moving quickly to the door and pressing the switch upon the wall next to it.

The lights turned on, revealing a room that was filled with robots or robotic devices, from the android standing by the wardrobe to the hands and claws suspended from the ceiling over the bed, to the large, round, white, capsule-looking thing sitting in the corner.

“What’s that, Dad?” Penny asked, pointing to it.

“Hmm? Oh, that’s something I worked on a couple of years ago,” Pietro said. “When activated, it moves around the room picking up clothes, and then it washes and dries them afterwards, and you can collect them from a hatch in the top. A perfect solution to the problem of laundry. At least, I thought so.”

Pietro pressed a button on the wall near his bed, and at once, the array of robotic hands upon the ceiling stirred to life and got to work, pulling back the red blanket and the white sheet from this bed even as the bed itself descended lower towards the floor. The bed descended, but Pietro’s chair rose, or at least the rear legs did, pushing upwards while the forelegs dropped down, as if the chair was trying to bow in some way.

More robot hands gripped hold of Pietro, holding him steady, almost carrying him as, with trembling legs, with a whole body that seemed to be quivering with effort, he pushed himself up and out of his chair.

“Dad, do you need any help?” Penny asked.

“I do, sweetie, but not from you; don’t worry yourself,” Pietro told her. “That’s why I built all of these things, to help me out.” It took a mere three steps to cross from chair to bed, but nevertheless, Pietro seemed to struggle with every step, despite his robotic assistants. He closed his eyes and screwed up his face as though the very act of lifting up his leg was painful for him. But, supported by all his robot helpers, he covered the distance and sat down heavily in bed, the mattress crumpling beneath his weight.

The bed began to rise again as the robots helped Pietro get his legs into bed and covered his body with sheets and blankets.

Pietro’s breathing was heavier than it had been before. “Penny,” he said softly.

Penny crossed the room to stand by his bedside, even if she had to squeeze past his chair to do it. “Yes, Dad?”

“Thank you,” he murmured, “for being there when I woke up.”

Penny smiled down at him. “I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning too.”

“'In the morning'?” he repeated. “But—”

“I’ll be here,” Penny repeated, before she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. “Goodnight, Dad.”

Pietro smiled and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Penny.”

Penny watched him. It only took him a few moments to start snoring, so she was pretty sure that he had fallen asleep.

Penny turned the lights off as she left the room, plunging it into darkness once again, and then took the stairs back down, stepping lightly — almost skipping — down the wooden steps, her hands held out on either side of her.

In the time that she’d been gone, Rainbow, Blake, and Twilight had arrived, all of them standing downstairs with Neon and Ciel.

“How is he?” Twilight asked as she caught sight of Penny; she spoke very quietly, her voice a whisper.

“He’s asleep now,” Penny replied, speaking equally quietly. “I think he’ll be fine.” She hesitated for a moment. “I … I want to stay with him tonight, though. I … I am going to stay with him tonight.”

Rainbow also hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “Okay. We’ll all stick around for tonight and go home tomorrow. There are some sleeping bags in The Bus; I’ll get them out.”

“Thank you,” Penny said.

“It’s not a problem,” Twilight said. “You want to make sure that he’s okay. So do we.”

Penny smiled. “Did you take care of everything? Did you turn in Feathers Markinson?”

Ciel held up a gold lien card, a smile of her own upon her lips. “Three million lien,” she said. “Gratefully received from Blake.”

Blake chuckled. “It’s from all of us.”

“But you got the last punch, so you got to hand the money over,” Rainbow said. “You also got to be the one photographed collecting the reward.”

Blake shook her head. “They should have given us time to get everyone together if they were going to do that, instead of springing a photographer—”

“I did not do this for the glory of the capture,” Ciel said. “This is … the only reward that I require. Alain is safe now, and I … I must go at once, and tell my family. It may be too late to start making the arrangements, but…” She wiped at her eyes with one hand. “I am glad to have the money in hand and content to leave all the glory to you, Blake.”

“That doesn’t mean I want it,” Blake replied.

“Take it anyway,” Rainbow said. “Making a name for yourself now will only help in future. Something like this … it absolutely cannot hurt for you to be associated with the capture of a thief who preyed on the elite of Atlas. It absolutely cannot.”

This time, Cadance didn’t have Shining Armor in her office with her when Rainbow Dash and Blake arrived; she was alone, standing, facing the window looking out across the city. As the door slid shut behind them, she turned to face them both, showing off her rose-coloured jacket and pencil skirt.

I’ve spent way too much time with Rarity that I know what that is.

Cadance clasped her hands together. “Hello again, you two,” she said, a smile upon her face. The ever-present sapphire heart she wore around her neck glistened in the bright light reflected off the walls. “It seems that you can’t keep yourselves out of the fight. I think you may need to remind yourselves what ‘vacation’ means.”

“It wasn’t really much of a fight, ma’am,” Rainbow pointed out, clasping her hands behind her back.

Cadance chuckled. “I might have to take umbrage at that aspersion cast on the quality of our androids … but we are phasing that model out in any case. So, how did you enjoy your adventure down in Mantle?”

“It wasn’t much of an adventure either,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Although,” Blake murmured, “I am a little surprised that you heard about it, Councillor.”

“What you did may seem small scale to a huntress,” Cadance replied, “but as a story, it has a number of enticing ingredients: a large sum of money, a notorious criminal, a huntress making a name for herself — or two, a situation in Mantle which, I must admit, doesn’t paint the authorities in the very best light … and a sick child. That is right, isn’t it, what I’m hearing?”

Rainbow nodded. “Ciel, our teammate, has a brother,” she said. “He’s sick, very sick … we took down the guy to get the reward money for Ciel to pay for his treatments.”

“I see,” Cadance murmured. “Your loyalty is to be commended.”

Rainbow shook her head. “Any team leader — any team — in our position would have done the same. That’s what being on a team means.”

“I’m not so sure you’re right,” Cadance said. “Although I certainly wouldn’t object if you were.” She paused for a moment. “How is the boy?”

“We just heard from Ciel,” Rainbow said. “He’s already in the hospital.”

“It’s amazing how quickly you can get things moving when you have three million lien to spend,” Blake observed dryly.

Cadance’s lips twitched upwards for a moment. She reached for the scroll on her desk, pressing a button on the screen to bring up a hologram of a woman with pale skin and blonde hair, with features that were possibly just a little bit too sharp.

“The infamous jewel thief Feathers Markinson was arrested in Mantle last night after being handed over to the authorities by Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash. Belladonna, a former Atlesian special agent whose deep cover within the White Fang was blown months previously by the Valish authorities, has returned to Atlas to recuperate until the start of the Vytal Festival later this year. Here she is, receiving the three million lien reward for the capture of this miscreant, who has been wanted in Atlas since breaking into the home of the Marigold family.”

The picture changed from the reporter herself to a picture of Blake taking the reward money.

Rainbow grinned and patted Blake on the shoulder.

Blake gave her a dirty look in return.

Look, do you want to get on or not? If so, learn to take all the credit you can get.

The picture returned to the reporter, joined by small profile images of Blake and Rainbow in the top right hand corner.

“There is no confirmed information from the police as to whether Markinson has given up the whereabouts of the items previously stolen from the Marigolds and others, but we imagine that officers are attempting to persuade him to give up that information by any means. What we do know is that the reward money of three million lien for the capture of Markinson has already been spent on medical treatments for the younger brother of a fellow huntress, a comrade of Belladonna and Dash, although we don’t yet have the names of anyone involved. Belladonna and Dash, of course, were both involved in the front lines of the Atlesian response to the Breach in Vale, they were both cited in despatches by General Ironwood as a result of that action, and we contacted General Ironwood to ask if their actions in Mantle last night were sanctioned by him and to what purpose. A spokesman for Atlas Academy responded.”

The next image to appear about Cadance’s desk was that of Major Schnee, looking straight ahead and a little uncomfortable as she spoke in a flat, monotone voice. “Atlas Academy does not condone vigilantism in any shape or form; however, we are pleased to note that whatever else these reports may indicate, they demonstrate that the values of comradeship, loyalty, and honour are alive and well in Atlas Academy.”

“However, not everyone had their heart warmed by these events.”

Rainbow groaned. “Don’t tell me that they—”

Yep. It was Robyn Hill’s face popping up next. Rarity had once described the Hero of Mantle’s style as ‘hobo chic,’ and Rainbow Dash … she could see the hobo, but it was the chic that she was having a little bit more trouble with. Anyway, there she was, and Rainbow couldn’t help but think there was an irony in someone who ought to be in jail talking about someone else who actually was.

“Who is that?” Blake asked quietly.

“Robyn Hill,” Rainbow growled. “She—”

“Shhhh,” Cadance murmured gently. “Later.”

“Obviously, I will never shed any tears for the removal of a criminal from the streets of Mantle,” Robyn began, which made Rainbow snort loudly, “but I just want to say two things. The first being, of course, that while we don’t know if this was an official sanctioned operation or not, we do know that two of the huntresses involved are known to enjoy the favour of General Ironwood, and I think that reasonable and intelligent people can draw their own conclusions from that. Just as I am sure that reasonable and intelligent people can see this and draw their own conclusions from the fact that an operation can be mounted to catch someone who has stolen jewellery worth more than the average citizen of Mantle will make in a year, will make in ten years of hard work, to protect even more staggeringly expensive jewellery on loan from a foreign kingdom … but you can’t get an officer to respond when you’ve been burgled, you can’t get the streetlights repaired so you have to walk home in the dark, you can’t get a doctors’ appointment, you can’t get seen in the ER without waiting for hours in pain. We’re told that there is no money, there is no resource, but apparently, there is resource to deal with a problem that affects Atlas. And I don’t need to tell you what that says about where our leaders’ priorities are; I think you can work that out for yourselves.

“And the second thing that I want to say is about the boy. We’ve all heard by now that the reward money for the capture of this thief has gone to pay the medical expenses for the sick relative of a friend of the huntresses involved. A little boy. And that’s very nice of them, I don’t deny that; we should all be so lucky to have friends like that. We should all be so lucky. But not everyone is, and I think that people need to ask themselves why this little boy had to rely on a group of family friends getting together to catch a wanted criminal in order to get the healthcare he needed. What if there hadn’t been a Feathers Markinson around? What about everyone else who doesn’t know a group of huntresses willing to do them a favour? This is why we need single payer—”

Cadance turned off the hologram.

“I mean … she’s got a point,” Blake said.

“I know,” Cadance murmured. “I’ve attempted to reform our … unfair healthcare system in the past, but not all of my fellow councillors have agreed with me. If Robyn Hill can create a sufficient degree of outrage off the back of this case, then she may have done me a favour. I certainly think the time is right for another attempt, because you’re both correct; the current state of affairs is … indefensible.”

“Have we caused any trouble, ma’am?” Rainbow asked. “For you or General Ironwood?”

“You did what you had to do,” Cadance said. “For a friend. I would never ask you to do anything else.”

“That isn’t the question I asked, ma’am,” Rainbow pointed out.

“No,” Cadance replied. “It isn’t.” She paused for a moment. “Jacques Schnee has been on the scroll complaining about the damage to his androids. He wants someone to pay for the destruction of property.”

“What did you say?” asked Blake.

“I reminded him that he was the richest man in the world and that he could eat the damages, and it would barely amount to a decimal point on his balance sheet,” Cadance said. “I then suggested that persecuting a hero who has … spent years undercover serving with a notorious terrorist organisation in order to defend Atlas might not be the best look, publicity-wise.” She glanced at Blake. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Blake murmured. “How did he respond?”

“By demanding to know what he paid his taxes for,” Cadance said. She smiled. “To which I could only reply that if he wanted to take that line, then I would, of course, support him … after a full and comprehensive audit of his accounts had been carried out to ensure that he had, in fact, paid all his taxes. And, you know, I think he realised at that point that we both had better things to do with our time and energy.”

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, ma’am,” she said. “I appreciate that.”

“We both do,” Blake added.

“Don’t mention it,” Cadance said lightly. “In politics, you don’t often get the chance to enjoy yourself, but having the opportunity to stick one to Jacques Schnee … call it my guilty pleasure. Except I don’t even feel very guilty. As for General Ironwood, by the time that you see him again, I doubt he’ll even remember this happened.” Once more, she paused. “Blake, how did you find Mantle?”

Blake didn’t reply for a second. “Who was that woman?” she asked. “Some kind of politician?”

“She’d like to be,” Rainbow muttered. “That was Robyn Hill. She’s a huntress, sort of; she’s an Atlas graduate, used to be an officer—”

“Not just any officer,” Cadance said. “She graduated from Atlas top of her class, won the Vytal Festival tournament ten years ago. Meteoric rise through the ranks—”

“You don’t need to praise her, ma’am; she doesn’t deserve it,” Rainbow said sharply. “Whatever she did, whatever she was … she left all that behind. She threw it away, turned her back on everything. Quit the military, settled in Mantle … now, she spends her time mouthing off to anyone who’ll point a camera her way about how terrible Atlas is. That’s when she isn’t carrying out vigilante justice or just straight up committing crimes.”

“She has yet to be found guilty of anything,” Cadance said gently.

“I saw her kill someone with my own eyes,” Rainbow insisted. “And yes, the person killed was a murderer, and they had it coming, and I’m not losing any sleep about it, but … everyone knows that she ambushes supply trucks, everyone knows that she raids caches.”

“What ‘everyone’ knows doesn’t matter,” Cadance replied. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

“She’s a disgrace,” Rainbow said firmly.

“She was rising high?” Blake asked.

Cadance nodded. “People were talking seriously about her as the next commanding General, once General Ironwood retires.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Then to leave that behind … she must have very strong convictions. You don’t have to agree with them, but … believe me, it isn’t easy to turn your back on the group you belong to, especially when you know that all of your friends and comrades, everyone you know, will hate and revile you for it. You have to really believe that what you’re doing is right, and that what you’ve been doing … whatever she is or does, I have no doubt that she believes in it. And, quite frankly, I can see why. Mantle does feel neglected.”

“Because it…” Rainbow trailed off. “I hate to agree with Robyn Hill on anything, but she’s kind of right about the cop thing.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that before,” Cadance murmured. She put one hand on her desk and sighed. “When I first went into politics, I thought that I would be able to solve problems. Instead … the problems are more clear to me than ever, but the solutions remain tantalisingly out of reach. I have a friend, an ally, Ivy Brown; she’s going to run for the Council in the next elections; if she gets elected then, with General Ironwood’s support, we’ll have four votes on the council, a majority.”

“But how long until new elections?” Blake said. “And are you just going to wait until then and do nothing?”

“We have to have faith in the system, even if that system is preventing any progress at the moment,” Cadance replied. “The day that we stop believing that democracy can work is the day we lose it. That said … it takes a very brave soul, politically, to argue against increases to the law and order budget, so I plan to bring a motion to the next council session for emergency increases to funding for the police and the courts in Mantle, citing the rise in vigilantism. Because you’re both right, Mantle is neglected, and I fear … Robyn Hill has three followers right now; what if she were to have more? We need to learn the lessons of the White Fang and address the issues that lead to violence, because if we don’t … if we don’t, we’ll just be storing up so much more trouble for ourselves in future. Trouble I fear we won’t be prepared to deal with when it comes.”

Pyrrha's Challenge (New)

Pyrrha’s Challenge

"Are you sure you want to do this, P-money?" Arslan asked.

Pyrrha's brow furrowed a little beneath her gleaming circlet. "Do you think this is a bad idea as well?

The two of them stood, otherwise alone, near the cliffs on the edge of the school grounds. The wind that blew in from the Emerald Forest made Pyrrha's crimson sash dance around her legs and pushed her ponytail to the side; it even ruffled Arslan's untidy mane of pale hair somewhat.

"I didn't say that," Arslan said quickly. She paused for a moment. “Although—”

Pyrrha smiled. “Although you’re about to.”

“No, no,” Arslan insisted. “I … I said that I would help you with this, and I will, but … let me ask you something: what makes you think she’ll go for this? Cinder, I mean. You’re going to go on air, make a song and dance, and then what?”

“And then she will answer,” Pyrrha said.

“Why?” Arslan asked. “Why would she? How can you know that she will?”

“You think she won’t?” asked Pyrrha, although the very fact that Arslan was asking the question made her scepticism plain.

In her place, I might be sceptical as well.

Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I’ve got to tell you, P, I have grown up with … well, without wishing to overegg the pudding too much, I grew up with some scum in our neighbourhood. They ran our neighbourhood. And some of them were smart, and some of them could be civil, and some of them could even show some manners sometimes, but none of them would go for this … unless it was a trap. Which I suppose means that I have two questions: what if she laughs at you, and what if she sets a trap?”

“I could ask you if it matters if she does answer,” Pyrrha replied. “It does matter to me; I would much rather that she answered, and I think she will, but if she does not … I have nevertheless made my position clear. By challenging Cinder, I show that there is no affection between us, no compact, and I am willing to risk my life in order to prove it.”

“Or you want people to think you are, while all the while sure that you won’t actually have to put your money where your mouth is,” Arslan suggested.

“I would hope that our people would not think so ill of me,” Pyrrha said.

“If they didn’t think ill of you, they wouldn’t suspect you in the first place,” Arslan said. “I don’t know how it is in the high towers of the old blood, but down amongst the lower slopes, the famous Mistralian honour is a little … threadbare. Especially amongst crooks and gangsters.”

“Cinder is…” Pyrrha paused for a moment, considering her response. Her thoughts turned to the last time she and Cinder had crossed blades, in the darkness beneath Mountain Glenn. “‘Long have I desired to match my skill against you.’”

“Hmm?” Arslan asked, frowning.

“That’s what she said to me, the last time we fought,” Pyrrha explained.

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve fought before?”

Pyrrha nodded.

Arslan hesitated. “Do I want to ask…?”

“I survived, and so did she,” Pyrrha said softly. “She had … somewhat the best of it, although she is the one who drew the battle to a close by fleeing. But before that, she said to me those words ‘long have I desired to match my skill against you.’ I was alone, except for Jaune; Sunset and Ruby were engaged elsewhere, as were our Atlesian friends. Cinder was alone. And she seemed glad of the fact.”

“Don’t let your vanity blind you, Pride of Mistral. For I am Cinder Fall, chosen of the dark, and I will make you my factor and pluck all the renown and honours off your brow and take them for my own.”

“Cinder desires the glory of my overthrow,” Pyrrha said. “That’s how I know she will accept, and that is how I know that she will not steal a victory by setting a trap for me. That wouldn’t give her what she wants.”

“She wants it enough to risk her own life?” Arslan asked.

“It lacks the frisson of excitement that comes from lives on the line, from knowing that nobody is going to step in when your aura gets into the red. From knowing that your aura is all that stands between you and oblivion.”

“Undoubtedly,” Pyrrha replied. The one issue in all of this — which she could not mention to Arslan, of course — was Salem, but then, Salem had taken pains to present herself to them as a better lord than Professor Ozpin, a ring giver, a good mistress; surely, then, she would not begrudge her champion this chance to prove herself and to achieve her heart’s desire. After all, what would Cinder’s death really cost her, if she fell by Pyrrha’s hands? She had failed already, her stroke defeated, her plans consumed. What was the difference, for Salem, between losing a champion that she could replace at her leisure or waiting for that champion to possibly devise another plan? And if Cinder won, then … at the risk of vanity, some negative emotion might be spread by it. What reason, therefore, had Salem to refuse?

“She told me she would pluck the honours from my brow,” Pyrrha went on. “It is not merely my death she wants; that, she could accomplish by blowing me up or shooting me from a great distance. What she wants, she can only get from what I offer her: a battle between us, with lives at the hazard.”

Arslan was quiet for a moment. “And you believe her? She wasn’t just grandstanding?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I have reason to think she was sincere.”

“Hmm,” Arslan murmured. “Then … okay, I can see why you think that this will get her to come and play, I suppose. It sounds mad looking at it from the outside, but I get it.” Her lip twitched. “You were quick to think I was going to condemn this whole idea; is Jaune giving you a hard time about this?"

"No," Pyrrha said at once. "Jaune is … not happy about it, but at the same time, he believes in me. Almost his exact words." For which I am very grateful; if even Jaune didn't believe that I could win this fight, I … I don't know what I'd do.

It was for that reason that Sunset's concern irked her somewhat. She understood that it came from love, but at the same time, she rather wished that her best friend would have some faith in her to triumph.

Of course — and this was the reason why Pyrrha was not worse than irked by Sunset's attitude — Cinder was dangerous, and there was a chance that Pyrrha might lose this battle, and if she lost, she could not expect to survive. She did not expect to lose; she would not have taken this course, for these stakes, if she had not thought that she would — she could — prevail; but, as she had conceded in the dorm room, nothing was certain in battle, and she would further concede that Cinder Fall was not an opponent to be taken lightly.

As I know all too well.

So, even while she might like Sunset to be cheering her on, she could understand her wariness in this.

If our places were reversed, I would probably be wary too.

Arslan nodded. "That's good to hear. So it's Sunset and Ruby then?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Sunset … Sunset is … overprotective. I think the fact that my mother charged her to protect me has not helped in that regard, although in fairness to my mother, I think Sunset would be overprotective in any event."

Arslan snorted. "If you need protection, then what hope is there for any of us?"

"Mmm."

"Pyrrha?"

"I was just thinking," Pyrrha murmured. "I cannot entirely begrudge Sunset her concern since, if our places were reversed, I would be concerned about her too. Arslan, can I ask you a question?"

Arslan shrugged. "Shoot."

"Am I being terribly selfish?" Pyrrha asked. "Risking my life, risking the hurt to Jaune, to Sunset, for…"

Arslan waited a moment. "Well, that's the point, isn't it?" she asked. "What are you doing it for?"

"For … for myself," Pyrrha replied. "To prove that I can."

"I thought you were doing this to prove Phoebe wrong."

"Well, that too," Pyrrha said softly, "but that alone might not suffice to move me, if…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking you about such things."

"No, it's no problem," Arslan assured her. She paused for a second. "I told my parents recently that I wasn't going back to the arena after this, that I'd changed my mind, and I was going to give being a huntress a proper go. Mom didn't take it very well. I thought…" She ran one hand through her mess of hair. "I thought it was the money that she was upset about, the loss of the income, the lifestyle, so I told her that I'd been careful with the money — which I have — and it was all diversified, and there was more than enough."

"What did she say to that?" asked Pyrrha.

"She bit my head off," Arslan answered. "Said that it wasn't about the money; it was about me, fighting monsters instead of fighting in a tournament with rules." There was another pause. "Are you expecting a hard fight?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I don't take Cinder lightly. As I said, the last time we fought … she had me on the back foot, at times, but that was done by using the terrain against me and taking me by surprise with what she was capable of. I’m aware now of what she can do, and the ground will not be so to her advantage. Yet, nevertheless, I do not take her lightly."

"Okay,” Arslan said. “Okay, let's … let’s say that Cinder Fall has what it takes. Let's say she's better than me and can do what I haven't managed yet." She pulled a face, sticking her tongue out and squinting her eyes; she looked as though she might be sick on the grass. "If you die, then Jaune will be heartbroken, and your friends, and your mother—"

"Thank you," Pyrrha muttered.

"I can't stand here and tell you that it's worth it," Arslan said, "but I certainly, sure as anything, can't tell you that it isn't worth it. Only you can answer that, P-money; only you can say whether or not you're risking it all for something worthwhile. So come on, answer your own question: is it worth it to you?"

Pyrrha was silent a moment. She bowed her head, some of her ponytail falling upon her shoulder, and yet, when she spoke a chuckle escaped her lips. "It's funny," she said. "I came to Beacon hoping that I could be Pyrrha Nikos. Not the Invincible Girl, not the Evenstar of Mistral, not the Princess Without a Crown, just Pyrrha Nikos. And yet … and yet, now I find that, without these things … without the Invincible Girl, I hardly feel like Pyrrha Nikos at all. Like a costume that I have worn for so long that I don't know how to live without it." She looked up. "I have to do this for the sake of myself, for the sake of the person I want to be. Yes, it is worth it."

"Then do it," Arslan said, "and don't get put off by the fact that people are worried about you." She grinned. "Besides, you've got nothing to worry about; you're going to kick her ass for sure."

One corner of Pyrrha's lip turned upwards. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"Well, it would be a fine thing if the Champion of Mistral—"

"I'm not going to be the Champion for very much longer," Pyrrha pointed out.

"You'll be a Champion of Hearts, P-money," Arslan declared. "And it would be a fine thing if you lost to some scumbag who might as well have sprung out of the ground for all that anyone can work out where she came from." Arslan hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Pyrrha replied. "I think you've earned it, by agreeing to help me."

"Do you know what she is, Cinder Fall?" Arslan asked. "I mean … she's bad news, but … what does she want? What kind of human works with the White Fang? What does an enemy of mankind even mean? What's she up to?"

Pyrrha was silent for a few moments, considering her response. Considering how she might answer around all the things that she could not tell Arslan about. "Cinder … Cinder is very angry," she said, "and out of her wrath, she'll sow destruction, if she is allowed."

"For what cause?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha lied, and felt guilty about the lie; it pricked her like a dagger's point. But it could not be avoided. "Perhaps she has no cause except her anger."

Arslan whistled. "Well … okay, then." She clasped her hands together behind her head. "Either way, whoever she is, she is … our shame. We brought a rabid dog into someone else's house, which is even worse than bringing it into your house, because you're responsible for everyone that it bites. But if anyone can erase our shame, it's Mistral's pride and joy. So do it for Mistral, okay? But, you know, no pressure." She winked.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "I'm not sure there is any pressure you could place upon me that I do not already feel, but … I will do my best to oblige my home, even as I prove to it my fidelity."

"So what's your strategy?" Arslan asked.

"Calm," Pyrrha answered. "Cinder fights with her anger; if I can keep my head, I should prevail."

Arslan nodded. "Simple, but smart," she pronounced. She got out her scroll. "Okay, now you stand with your back to the cliffs, and that way, I can back away from you to get the right shot without falling off the cliff in the process." She unfolded the device and held it up in front of her face, although Pyrrha could still see her eyes over the top of it.

"That background is a bit boring," Arslan said. "I think I'll replace it with one that makes it look like we shot this in front of the school. In front of that statue in the middle of the fountain, that'll be cool."

"You can do that?" Pyrrha asked.

Arslan lowered her scroll for a moment. "Yeah, I know tons about editing videos," she said. "When I started out, I couldn't afford a publicist or anything like that, so I made my own publicity. I learned how to video edit, and then I made my own fun videos about my training sessions and my upcoming fights."

"Is that where the video of you running up the steps of the art gallery came from?"

Arslan grinned. "Yeah, that was my biggest hit. Anyway: Beacon background?"

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. "Very well."

"Awesome," Arslan said. "Now, just to make sure I get the right view." She took a couple of steps backwards as she raised her scroll again. "Okay. Game face and … go!"

Pyrrha breathed in. She was wearing Miló and Akoúo̱ across her back, and Miló at least would be visible over her shoulder; it seemed appropriate for what she was about to do. She set her face, an even expression, not too stern, but serious all the same. Unafraid.

"Hello," she said, in a voice which she endeavoured to keep calm. "My name is Pyrrha Nikos. In recent days, I have been subject to allegations regarding my complicity with a certain criminal named Cinder Fall. Cinder Fall was, amongst other things, partly responsible for the Breach, the recent attack on the kingdom of Vale. I say to all of you, I swear to all of you, that I had nothing to do with that attack, that I have no relations with Cinder Fall, and that I see her only as my enemy.

"But I don't expect anyone to take my word for it. After all, everything that I have said is exactly what someone in my position would say, whether it was true or not. And so I mean to prove to my accusers, to all my fans whose support means so much to me, and to everyone who has an opinion on the matter, that Cinder Fall is only my enemy.

"To Cinder herself, I have this message: I, Pyrrha Nikos, challenge you to meet me in single combat. Where you dare and when you dare, there we shall meet in a battle to the death. One shall stand; one shall fall." She worried that that might sound a little overdramatic, but surely if there was any place for over-drama, it was when challenging someone to a duel to the death. "If you do not accept, then all of Remnant will know that you are a coward."

"So, as we've just seen there, a … rather dramatic response by Pyrrha Nikos to the recent allegations made against her. Joining us in the studio to discuss this is historian and Professor of History at Beacon Academy, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck; welcome."

"Thank you, Lisa, it's a pleasure to be here." The words galloped out of Doctor Oobleck's mouth like horses at the beginning of a race.

Ozpin, watching today's episode of The Lavender Report on the holographic screen projected above his desk, leaned back in his chair ever so slightly. He found it mildly interesting that they had chosen to have a historian guest to discuss this, although he felt as though he understood why.

Just as he understood why they had sought out Doctor Oobleck specifically.

Lisa Lavender herself sat with her legs together, but bent to one side, so that her feet were resting sideways upon the light blue carpet of the studio. "So, Doctor, what do you make of this response by Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Well, it's certainly a very Mistralian response," Oobleck said. "Classically so, in fact. You only need to look back into Mistralian history to see that the answering of insult with a sword is woven into the fabric of Mistralian elite society. And of course, one cannot ignore the fact that in Mistral, it is still perfectly legal to challenge opponents to — and indeed to fight them in — duels."

"So you're saying, as Miss Nikos' teacher, that this is a normal response from her?"

And there it is, thought Ozpin.

Oobleck laughed. "Aha, Lisa, I think you're trying to put words into my mouth. But no. Miss Nikos is an excellent student who has had no disciplinary problems and does not engage in violence outside of combat class or approved training missions. No. But of course, allegations of this sort are not normal either. These are extraordinary accusations that have been made against Miss Nikos, and it is not surprising that they warrant an extraordinary response. What is interesting is the fact that this challenge is directed at Miss Fall."

"What do you mean by that? Who would you expect it to be directed towards?"

"Why, to the accuser of course," Oobleck responded. "Slander of this nature—"

"You believe that the accusations are false?"

"Of course I do; Miss Nikos is a student at—"

"But wasn't Miss Fall posing as a student?" Lisa asked.

"Miss Nikos has participated in several actions which have defended or otherwise benefited Vale," Oobleck declared. "Including assisting in the capture of Roman Torchwick, helping to foil a White Fang dust robbery, and helping to defend the Breach and prevent a massive grimm incursion into the heart of this very city! Does that sound like the behaviour of a traitor to you? The very idea is preposterous, and as I was saying, such slander would certainly be grounds for a duel to the death in Mistralian culture even today. However, rather than challenging her accuser, Miss Nikos has challenged Miss Fall, although she is as much the subject of these allegations as Miss Nikos is."

"Why do you think that is?" Lisa asked. "Is it because the identity of the source of these allegations is unknown?"

"No, I think it is because Miss Nikos does not want to merely silence these scurrilous allegations but to answer them," Oobleck replied. "As she said herself, she wishes to prove which side she's on."

"But isn't this all a bit of a publicity stunt, in the end; I mean how likely is Cinder Fall to answer this challenge?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't possibly say with any certainty; I only knew Miss Fall very briefly when she was masquerading as a Haven Academy student, and in any case, I couldn't take her behaviour while masquerading as a guide to her real self; however, I will say that I doubt Miss Nikos would have made this very public gesture without some expectation that it would be answered. Otherwise, as you say, it would risk looking like a publicity stunt."

"But of course, there is also a risk that if Cinder Fall does not answer this challenge, then she risks looking, as Miss Nikos said herself, like a coward, isn't that right?" Lisa asked.

Not that that would bother some of Salem's servants, Ozpin thought. Some, most of them probably, would have laughed off a challenge such as that which Miss Nikos had thrown down. They would have called it childish, naïve. It was childish and naïve in some ways: come face me, alone, bereft of all advantages, in a clean battle in which only our respective skills matter. Who would answer such a challenge as that, with so much to lose and nothing to gain?

Nothing but the maintenance of reputation, which would be lost if the challenge were to be refused.

That was the answer, of course: only someone who cared excessively about their reputation would accept a challenge such as this one. Miss Nikos seemed to think that Miss Fall was such a one, and it was true that Salem had made use of servants with such a temperament in the past.

Something which she may come to regret.

A flashing green indicator in the corner of the holographic screen alerted Ozpin to an incoming call. Turning off The Lavender Report, Ozpin was able to see that the call was coming from the First Councillor.

Oh, joy.

Ozpin took a deep breath and put on a benign and genial smile before he answered, "Good afternoon, Councillor."

"A duel?" Councillor Emerald asked him. "A duel to the death?"

"Ah, I see you've been watching the news," Ozpin replied.

"Of course I watch the news; it's how I find out what the people are thinking," Councillor Emerald replied. "What is going on up there, Ozpin?"

"To be blunt, Councillor, I could ask you what's going on in Vale," Ozpin replied. "Anti-faunus sentiment on the rise, anti-Atlas sentiment—"

"I'm aware," Councillor Emerald said.

"We cannot have the Vytal Festival ruined by factional division—"

"I am aware!" Councillor Emerald snapped. "You think that I don't know what's going on? Novo's children were followed halfway home by some human drunk harassing them." He paused for a moment. "They said that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos and their team stepped in to defend and comfort them, and then escorted them the rest of the way. That was … very good of them. I would be grateful if you could pass on the thanks and appreciation of myself and Novo."

"I will," Ozpin promised.

"Why would someone who was willing to condemn the whole of Vale to death stop and help two people being harassed on the street?" asked Councillor Emerald.

Ozpin paused for a moment. "I think … when one thinks of a city, a kingdom, it is easy to conceptualise it as something abstract, a piece on a board, a name on a map. Take it off the board, wipe it off the map, what matter that? Two people seen on the street are … two people. They cannot be anything else." Another pause. "And I think Miss Shimmer feels for those she has met more than she ever could for those she has not."

Councillor Emerald snorted. "A human enough flaw, I suppose, even if she does carry it to excess. I'm increasing police numbers in the tourist areas of Vale, in order to ensure that the Vytal Festival is not disturbed. If that's not enough, I'll call in the army."

"And what of those faunus who are not so fortunate as to live in the tourist areas of Vale?" Ozpin asked.

"I'm a faunus myself, Ozpin, as you can plainly see," Councillor Emerald said sharply, "and I resent the implication that I'm leaving them behind. The fact is that many faunus distrust the police, and for good reason, an increased police presence … could make things worse. So far, there has been no evidence of humans going into faunus parts of Vale looking for trouble. If that changes…" He sighed. "I don't understand what's happening to this city, Ozpin; I can't get my arms around it."

"Neither can I," Ozpin admitted. "This present agitation seems to be, if not quite sui generis, then it has certainly escalated at an unnatural pace."

"With luck, it will die down just as swiftly, once Ironwood and his army take their leave of us," Councillor Emerald said. He shook his head. "To return to the business at hand … a duel, Ozpin, really? Was this your idea?"

"No, Councillor, Miss Nikos came up with this plan all by herself," Ozpin replied. "I did, however, give her my approval."

"Did you?" Councillor Emerald muttered. "Of course you did. You are aware, I hope, that duelling is illegal in Vale. It has been for over two hundred years."

"And yet, the last recorded duel was fought only a hundred and fifty years ago," Ozpin pointed out.

"That doesn't mean that Pyrrha Nikos can break the law just because she feels slighted."

"Fighting the enemies of man is not illegal," Ozpin said. "In fact, it is precisely what a huntress ought to do."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that perhaps we should allow the Mistralians to use whatever terminology they like," Ozpin said, "while we focus on the salient point: when the dust settles, the person responsible for the Breach might not be a problem anymore."

"So … this is a trap?"

"No, Miss Nikos is in perfect earnest," Ozpin said, "but her earnestness may yet serve … a greater purpose."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to sound sinister?"

"No, Councillor."

"Then you should have chosen a different way to word that," Councillor Emerald said. "In any event … you make a very good point, regarding the legality of it. And of course, issuing a challenge to a duel isn't illegal, only fighting one is. So we will let this play out and see if it doesn't come to some good. Keep me informed, won't you?"

Ozpin nodded. "Of course, Councillor. Good day."

He hung up on the First Councillor just as the elevator door opened and General Ironwood walked in.

"Oz."

"Good afternoon, James," Ozpin said. He allowed himself a smile. "Allow me to guess why you might be here."

"A duel, Oz?" Ironwood asked. "Seriously?"

"It is the Mistralian way."

"It's Mistralian nostalgic nonsense," Ironwood said, "and you know it."

Ozpin's smile widened ever so slightly. He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows upon his lap. "You know, I cannot help but recall a young Atlesian officer I once knew who fought a duel against Leo—"

Ironwood cleared his throat. "Yes, well… just because I was once young and stupid, Oz, is no reason why you should let other people be stupid just because they're young." He clasped his hands behind his back, glancing away from Ozpin. "In any case, neither Leo nor I was ever at risk of dying; we fought until his aura broke, nothing more." He paused for a moment, before adding in a far more sullen tone, "And besides, it's not like I got anything out of it anyway."

Ozpin's tone was more sympathetic than it had been, as he said, "Duelling may or may not be, as you put it, nostalgic nonsense, but duelling over a woman … that is old-fashioned, even for me."

"You make it sound as though the winner was going to own her," Ironwood muttered. "It wasn't like that."

"Nevertheless I think that is rather how Luna saw the matter," Ozpin said, "judging by the way that she—"

"Threw a glass of water in my face, declared 'I am not a prize to be won,' and stormed off?" Ironwood said.

"Yes," Ozpin murmured. "Exactly. Has she forgiven you yet?"

"I don't know; I mostly talk to Celestia," Ironwood admitted. "I think she overreacted. It wasn't even my fault; Leo was the one who challenged me. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have laughed at him," Ozpin suggested. "I think Luna might have preferred it if you had."

"Then shouldn't Miss Nikos be laughing at these allegations?" Ironwood suggested. "I say it again, Oz, nobody was in danger of their life when I fought Leo. This … she could die, Oz."

The smile slid off Ozpin's face. His voice, when he spoke in response, was soft and quiet. "I'm aware."

"There aren't so many people like her around that we can afford to just throw them away."

"I'm aware."

"And it wouldn't be the first time that we've lost someone because they were too bold and too sure of themselves and they walked into something—"

"I'm aware," Ozpin said, his voice rising to quiet James.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Of course you are, I didn't mean to imply … I meant no disrespect."

He turned away from Ozpin and walked to the windows that ran around three sides of the office, looking out across Beacon and Vale beyond, with the General's own warships visible in the sky.

Ozpin could see his back, and his hands clasped behind his back, as he stood before the glass looking out.

"Children," Ironwood said softly. "Children make mistakes. They overestimate their strength, they misjudge the importance of things; it's our job … it's our job to teach them better, but if we can't, if … failing that, it's our job to stop them making these mistakes in the first place."

"You think this is a mistake?" Ozpin asked.

Ironwood turned around to look at him. "You don't?"

"Not necessarily," Ozpin replied.

"If she dies," Ironwood said. "I thought you had plans for her?"

"But if she wins," Ozpin said, "then it may be some time before the shadow grows again."

“You think so?” Ironwood asked. “Don’t you think you’re forgetting about Autumn?”

“She will not risk her in the front lines, having gone to such lengths to attain her,” Ozpin said. “To send her into the midst of our fortress, where she could so easily be lost? Madness. She will keep her safe, as we have done, and ensure that at the very least the power may be passed on to someone of her own choosing. That, at least, is what I would do.”

"Well then,” Ironwood said, “if killing Cinder will accomplish all that you hope, then all the more reason to let me put my team on stand by-”

“No, James,” Ozpin said firmly. “We will let Miss Nikos handle this her own way.”

“Why?” Ironwood demanded. “With so much at stake, why take the risk?”

"Because Miss Nikos needs this," Ozpin informed him. "She needs this, and so, she will have it. I think … I think it is the very least that we can do for her."

“'Coward'?” Cinder repeated. “She calls me 'coward'? How very boldly Mistral’s princess gives commands: I must answer her challenge or be known as a coward.” It had been bad enough - quite, quite bad enough - when some oik had presumed to suggest that she and Pyrrha might be in league together. The absurdity of it! As if she would ever associate with that overhyped, overrated, pampered milksop. As if she would ever bend her back to take commands from Princess Popular, so beloved. Had they no thought to Cinder’s pride? Did they think so little of her that she could be nothing but a henchman for the golden girl, the people’s darling Pyrrha Nikos?

She had been tempted to write to the editor and complain about falling standards in journalism.

Yes, that had been quite bad enough, but this? To be thought a subordinate to someone she hated was one thing, but to be accused of cowardice was something else altogether.

Cinder turned around, turning from the window of the Portchester Manor library to face the others gathered behind her. “Now, I ask you, was there any need for that?”

“It was kind of rude,” Sonata agreed. “What if you didn’t feel like fighting? What if you had a stomach ache? It would really suck if you couldn’t go out and fight her for perfectly good reasons and everyone thought that you were just scared, right?”

“It wasn’t rude; it was transparent,” Tempest declared. She folded her arms. “A transparent attempt to goad you into answering this ridiculous challenge.”

“'Ridiculous'?” Cinder said, rolling the word around on her tongue before spitting it back out again. “'Ridiculous.' 'This ridiculous challenge.' Is that what you think?”

Tempest Shadow blinked. “Well … yes. Obviously. What kind of—?”

“Cinder will answer,” Emerald said, speaking quickly, before Tempest could say anything that might give Cinder cause to do something Tempest would regret. “Cinder will not back down from this challenge, will you, Cinder?”

Cinder smiled at her. “No, Emerald, I will not. Would you care to explain to the Atlesian philistine over there,” she gestured towards Tempest, “why I will not?”

Emerald managed the difficult feat of smiling and looking a little nervous at the same time. She clasped her hands together in front of her and shuffled awkwardly upon her feet, scraping her shoes upon the wooden floor.

“Take your time,” Cinder murmured. “You know the answer.”

Emerald glanced at her and nodded in a short, sharp gesture. “Because,” she said, “even if Pyrrha hadn’t said it, the unspoken subtext would be there: if you do not answer, if you do not meet me in combat, then you are coward, afraid of me. No warrior would subject themselves to such humiliation in the eyes of their enemies. Secondly, because as Doctor Oobleck kind of explained on the news, what Pyrrha has done has a long history in Mistral. It’s tradition; it goes way back.” She looked at Cinder again. “It goes back to The Mistraliad, right? When, um … uh … Paris?”

“Pandarus,” Cinder corrected her gently.

“Right, Pandarus for the Mistralians and Melanippe for the Danaeans agreed to meet to duel for the fate of the princess and the city,” Emerald said, her voice gaining more confidence as she went. “And when Pandarus fled, he was known as a coward by everyone on both sides.”

“So what?” Lightning Dust demanded.

“So … Pyrrha is appealing to ancient rules and customs,” Emerald explained, “and they bind Cinder to answer.”

“Unless those ancient rules and customs are going to strike her dead if she doesn’t do anything, then I don’t see that they ‘bind’ her or anyone else,” Lightning replied. “Ignore them. Flip them off. Who cares if your enemies think that you’re a coward?”

“I care,” Cinder said, in a voice that was yet soft, but had nevertheless acquired some sharpness to it.

Lightning shuffled a little. “I mean … they already think we’re evil.”

“Yet they may think me valiant in my villainy,” Cinder said. “I will not have Pyrrha Nikos think that I was afraid to face her. I will not have her think that I cower in some hiding place, cringing into the shadows, silent as she calls out my name, as though we played hide and seek and I sought to evade her gaze. I will not have it said that I was afeared of any foe arrayed against us; I am Cinder Fall!”

She took a step forward, towards them all, her doubting subordinates, and as she strode, she jabbed at her own chest with one finger. “I am Cinder Fall, and I will eat the heart of Pyrrha Nikos in the marketplace! Why should I not answer this challenge?” She chuckled. “The fool has cooked herself for dinner. She challenges me. She will face me in single combat, when I dare and where I dare.”

She let out a gasping laugh as she spread her arms out wide. “This is what I wanted. This was always my intent. A battle between us to the death, one shall stand and one shall fall, and when Pyrrha falls, as she will, at my hand, then … what then? How will they weep in Mistral, how will they gnash their teeth, how will they wail for their fallen Evenstar, their Princess Without a Crown? How they will…”

“Cinder?” Emerald murmured.

“They will look for her coming from the White Tower,” Cinder whispered, “but she will not return, by land or by air.”

She laughed softly, gently. “It … it occurs to me that when I strike Pyrrha down, I … I do her service. She might not see it so, Jaune will not see it so, and Sunset neither, but … when she falls, in valiant struggle against a contemptible foe … will not her reputation gleam golden evermore? Will they not raise a great and towering monument to her memory? Will she not live on in the hearts of all men?”

And will I not live on beside her, our fates intertwined, her story inseparable from the name of her killer? As her reputation gleams effulgent, mine will be as black as polished obsidian. I shall be Mistral’s dark demon forevermore, the monster who brought down the Evenstar.

I would rather be remembered as a monster than be forgotten.

I would not be forgotten for all the treasure in the world.

She would not … she would not be her parents, dead and dust and gone from memory before the season turned. She would … be immortal, though she purchased it with blood and condemnation and every hand in Remnant turned against her.

“Very romantic,” Tempest drawled. “What if you lose?”

Cinder raised one eyebrow. “You don’t believe in me, Tempest Shadow?”

“It’s a fair question,” Tempest said. “What if you lose, what if Pyrrha kills you?”

“I have no intention of losing to Pyrrha Nikos,” Cinder said, because of course, if she lost to Pyrrha, then she would be … nothing. Dust beneath Pyrrha’s chariot wheels, just one of a great host of foes fallen or defeated. She had to kill Pyrrha in order to attain the infamy that she desired. “My life is not Pyrrha’s to take; I will win.”

“You cannot be certain of that,” Tempest said.

Cinder’ eyes narrowed as she advanced upon her. “You are beginning to move beyond a simple lack of faith and into insolence.”

“'Insolence'?” Tempest repeated. “Is it insolent to say that we need you alive? If you die, then our Mistress—”

“My Mistress,” Cinder said sharply. “Not yours. You are a servant to a servant. Right now, I am your mistress. Do not forget your place, or shall I remind you of it?”

“No,” Tempest said, bowing her head. “That … will not be necessary. Nevertheless, I … as your servant, I wish to express my … concerns—”

“Your concern is touching, of course,” Cinder said, “but the consequences of my defeat are none of your concern, not least because there is nothing to be concerned about. I will not fail. I will not lose. I will not suffer to fall at Pyrrha’s hands.”

But if I did … if I do…

If I do, then I will be forgotten.

And as much to the point, I will be dead, and all of Salem’s plans will be much of a muchness to me.

I am not here to serve Salem only. I am not her puppet, to do her will obediently — no, not even obediently, thoughtlessly.

I am not ungrateful, for all that she has done and given me; I am not unmindful that she has made me strong. And for her gifts, I’ll render up to her a golden crown as she desires while I yet live.

If I live.

For I am not her factor, I am not put on Remnant to do nought but as she commands, I am Cinder Fall, and I must do as I will.

I may be servant to a mistress, but I am no one’s slave.

So, if I fall — a very unlikely event — let Salem howl.

After all, I’ll be dead.

“You three may leave now,” she said, gesturing at Tempest, Lightning, and Sonata. “That will be all. Emerald, remain, if you will; there are further matters where I will require your assistance.”

“I—” Tempest began.

“That will be all,” Cinder said in a voice as sharp as a blade.

Tempest scowled for a moment, but turned away and joined Lightning and Sonata in making her way out of the library.

“Close the door, Emerald,” Cinder said as they left. “Please.”

Emerald gave a brief smile, walked briskly and with a light tread — but with much improved posture all the same — to close the door.

She lingered there, one hand upon the door handle.

“Cinder…” she murmured. “May … may I speak freely?”

Cinder tilted her head ever so slightly sideways. “You would dissuade me from accepting this challenge also?”

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others,” Emerald said. “I … I know it’s not my place, and I didn’t want you to think that I was siding with Tempest over you, but … I don’t see the point of this.”

“You articulated the point very well, I thought,” Cinder said.

“I know; I mean, I understand,” Emerald said. “I understand why you feel as though you have to do this, but … but I don’t agree. Rules and conventions, honour, what … what does it matter? Who does it help? Isn’t it all just the way that people like Pyrrha get their way over people like us? And besides…”

Cinder waited for her for a moment. No words came. “You may speak,” Cinder urged. “I will not be angry.”

“You won’t?”

“Not with you,” Cinder assured her. “We are … something close to equals now; you are a quick study. I would not be wrath with you as I would be with Tempest or Lightning.”

“Okay,” Emerald said softly. “Then … then I think you’re wrong. I think that this is pointless; I think that … the world that you want to live in, the world that you want to believe in, it doesn’t exist. You can kill Pyrrha, as I’m sure you will, but what then?”

“She will be remembered, and I—”

“No,” Emerald said, “she won’t. She won’t gleam golden in memory, she won’t be put on a pedestal, she’ll be a rotting corpse in the ground somewhere, and those who loved her best will have forgotten about her before the year turns. Jaune, Sunset, they’ll move… forward; Jaune will find someone else to love, and Mistral? Mistral will find another performing seal to fawn over. They won’t remember her, and they certainly won’t remember you. If they find it worth their while to kill you, then … they will not remember you after.”

Cinder was silent for a moment, staring at Emerald. “You speak … did it require boldness on your part to speak thus?”

Emerald swallowed and nodded silently.

You speak the fear that is in my heart. After all, that had been the fate of her mother, bold-hearted pilot though she was; that had been the fate of her father, a good and honest gentleman. That too had been the fate of her stepmother and stepsisters; where was Phoebe’s mourning to be seen?

And yet … and yet, she hoped for more for herself. She hoped for more for Pyrrha Nikos, and that moreness would secure more for herself.

“What would you have me do instead?” she asked.

“Live?” Emerald suggested. “Live for yourself, and for the moment; not for your hopes of lasting memory.”

Cinder chuckled. “Pyrrha’s choice. A long unmemorable existence, or a brief life and immortal memory.”

“Maybe she chose wrong,” Emerald suggested.

I cannot live, for I have nothing to live for. “Seek not to alter me, Emerald,” Cinder said. “I am … I am too far gone.” And I have been altered too much already. “Seek not to alter me. I did not ask you to stay so that you would persuade me from my course, but because I need your help.”

“My help?” Emerald asked. “With what?”

“Convention dictates that the two combatants, who are assumed by convention to have a quarrel between them, should have no contact before the duel itself; all communication is by trusted intermediaries. Out of all them, you are the only one I trust, and so I ask that you serve as my intermediary in this and arrange a suitable place where we will not be observed or disturbed by General Ironwood’s men or any Valish authorities.”

“I … of course,” Emerald murmured. “I can’t say that I’m honoured, even though I kind of feel as though I should say that, but I will do it.” She paused. “Pyrrha’s trusted intermediary—”

“I suggest you start,” Cinder said, “by calling Sunset.”

“Ridiculous,” Tempest muttered. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Yeah, you were acting kind of strange in there,” Sonata said.

Tempest stopped — as did Lightning Dust, for that matter — and stared at her. “Me?”

Sonata stopped too. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you talking about someone else?”

“Cinder!” Tempest snapped. “She can’t do this.”

“Why not?” Sonata asked. “I thought we wanted her out of the—”

“Not so loud!” Tempest hissed, covering her mouth with one hand.

Sonata’s eyes widened. When Tempest withdrew her hand, she spoke in a noticeably quieter voice. “Oh, right, sorry. But still, I thought—”

“Unfortunately,” Lightning muttered, “much as I wouldn’t mind seeing the back of her either, we can’t do it without her.”

Sonata frowned. “No?”

“No,” Tempest agreed. “Cinder … the only path to our Mistress’ designs lies through her. Without her, our Mistress’ goals cannot be achieved, and all of this is pointless.”

“And she won’t let my sisters go,” Sonata whispered.

“She must be informed of this disobedience,” Tempest said.

“Ooh, I’ve got a better idea,” Sonata said. “What about if she wasn’t—”

“Weren’t you listening?” Lightning demanded. “If Cinder dies, then—”

“Yet,” Sonata finished. “What if we didn’t tell anyone … yet?”

There was silence amongst the three of them for a moment.

“'Yet,'” Tempest murmured.

“'Yet,'” Lightning repeated approvingly.

“'Yet,'” Tempest said again.

The more she said it, the more she liked the sound of it.

Challenge Accepted (New)

Challenge Accepted

This was going better than Phoebe had expected.

It was going better than she had dared to hope.

It was true that Pyrrha had blunted a lot of the force of Phoebe’s accusations and won great plaudits by her dramatic response; Mistralians loved a good piece of theatre, her people were depressingly prone to hero worship, and what was more quintessentially heroic than proving your innocence in single combat, than in pointing your sword at some foe and challenging them to a duel to the death? All of that was true, and under different circumstances, it might have made Phoebe bitter, but in the present circumstances…

Well, it wasn’t just that Pyrrha had blunted Phoebe’s attack line, was it? Yes, she had, although Phoebe yet had hope that she had not done so as completely as she might have liked; the initial buzz was strong for Pyrrha, but that wasn’t to say that there would not remain some lingering doubts about the truth … but let that lie for now.

The reason why Pyrrha had not, could not, dampen Phoebe’s mood — the reason, in fact, why she felt particularly buoyant at the moment — was because of how Pyrrha had chosen to respond.

It was precisely because Pyrrha had pointed a sword at her enemy and challenged her to a duel to the death that Phoebe felt almost like singing.

It was too good! It was delicious! A duel to the death! To the death!

To risk her life, to hazard it in single combat, what a fool she was. What a fearless, foolish idiot was Pyrrha Nikos. If she died … Phoebe so very much hoped that she died. Phoebe would have prayed that Pyrrha would die if she had believed in any gods with sufficient faith or fervour to pray to them.

If Pyrrha died, then a great shadow would be excised from Phoebe’s life. She would be … she would be free. No more dogged by Pyrrha, no more overshadowed by Pyrrha, no more bested by Pyrrha.

No more outshone by Pyrrha in all respects.

And to think that all it had taken were some rumours, and Pyrrha was going to her death voluntarily.

Well, perhaps. Phoebe hoped so anyway. Admittedly, it could not be taken for granted. As Phoebe knew too well, Pyrrha had a very annoying habit of winning battles. It might be that she would triumph over this Cinder Fall and return trailing even more clouds of glory.

That would be … frustrating, to say the least.

If that happened, then Phoebe … Phoebe would deal with it. She would cast doubt upon the outcome of a trial by combat, she would suggest that Cinder Fall was not actually dead, she would continue to spread malicious rumour through the world. What was Pyrrha going to do about that? The problem with such a dramatic gesture was that you could only do it once.

Much like dying.

If all that Phoebe could do for now was sling mud at Pyrrha’s reputation, then she would do so and wait for the moment when she could ram a spear through Pyrrha’s back.

But until then … she hoped, oh how she hoped.

In the meantime, while she hoped, she was on her way to call on Pyrrha herself.

One of the things that Phoebe found rather foolish about her own culture was the insistence on personalizing everything: take this single combat, for instance; you had to challenge your enemy directly. You couldn’t hide your own presence in the shadows, you couldn’t work through catspaws, everything was supposed to be out in the open for the world to see.

Phoebe did not work out in the open, and so, even if Pyrrha had suspicions about her involvement in these accusations against her, she couldn’t prove it, and without proof, she could not act. And with Pyrrha unable to act, unable to prove anything, Phoebe was quite able to go to her and reconcile.

It was … the proper form, in occasions such as this. With Pyrrha about to risk her life in a sacred combat, it was the perfect time, the proper time, the expected time for Phoebe to go to her and clasp her hands and beg her to put aside their enmity.

It didn’t matter one bit that Phoebe had no intention of putting aside her enmity for even one second; the point was that … well, there were two points, the first of which being that Pyrrha, bound by convention as she was, would be unable to refuse and, fool that she was, might even believe it; the other point being that it would make Phoebe look good.

This situation had taken on the attributes of a story; Pyrrha had turned it into one when she challenged Cinder Fall so publicly and in such a ringing tone. She had elevated this out of the world of trashy publications and into something … something closer to myth.

Well, Phoebe could treat this like a storybook as well if she wanted to, and this was the storybook response to a situation like this one: to put aside petty differences in the face of Pyrrha’s hopefully impending death and win great plaudits for her magnanimity.

And so, trailed by her entourage — what was the point of doing something like this if you weren’t going to have witnesses? — Phoebe swept through the corridors towards the Team SAPR dorm room.

“Is there really that much point to this?” asked Fleur. “What if Pyrrha doesn’t accept?”

Phoebe laughed lightly. “Oh, really, Fleur, forgive me, but that’s such an Atlesian thing to say. Of course Pyrrha will accept. She really has no choice at all. The customs will compel it, if nothing else. Besides, I’m sure that a sweet girl like Pyrrha could never hold a grudge.”

They were approaching the SAPR dorm room now, with that ridiculous picture on the front from that terrible plebeian restaurant — Phoebe had been there once and never again; it was disgustingly common — on the door.

Phoebe did her best to ignore it, presenting a benign smile upon her fair face as, with perfect poise, she knocked briskly upon the dorm room door.

There was a moment’s pause before the door was answered by that odious faunus, Sunset Shimmer; she might act a little less high and mighty once Pyrrha died and all the favour and the money that she presently enjoyed from Lady Nikos evaporated like so much snow under sunlight.

You think that you’re so wonderful, don’t you? You are nothing but a sponge that soaks up Lady Nikos’ favours. One day, Lady Nikos will put you in her hands and squeeze you and squeeze you, and then, sponge, you will be dry again and just as small and light and utterly inconsequential as you were before.

But for now, Sunset stood in the doorway, physically barring it and looking at Phoebe with a scowl upon her face. “What do you want?”

Phoebe bit back a retort to the insolence that she was being offered. “I’m here to speak to Pyrrha.”

“Go away,” Sunset said, moving to shut the door.

Phoebe put one hand upon the door to prevent it from being slammed in her face. “I … understand that you may not have the best opinion of me,” she said in her ‘model student’ voice that had fooled so many teachers at Atlas Academy. “I even understand why you might not like me very much; some of my words have been … rather cruel. But that’s why it’s so important that I speak to Pyrrha now, before it’s too late!”

“Phoebe?” Pyrrha asked, appearing in view behind Sunset, visible over her shoulder. Her tone was guarded as she said, “Is there something I can do for you?”

Phoebe let out a sort of gasping sigh, putting one hand upon her heart. “Pyrrha!” she cried. She took a moment to appear to collect herself, her bosom heaving. “No, Pyrrha, there is nothing that you can do for me … except forgive me. I have been a fool, and worse than foolish, I have been very cruel to you and to your friends. I have taken our bouts in the arena far too seriously and allowed myself to become bitter over bouts that you won fair and square in the arena. I have wronged you with my words, wronged you terribly, but now … now, I see the light. What you have done … what are you prepared to risk … there can be no connection between you and that vile criminal Cinder Fall.”

Sunset’s face twitched. “Very prettily said,” she growled. “But if you think that—”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured. “It’s alright. Please, step aside.”

“Pyrrha?”

“Please,” Pyrrha repeated.

Sunset hesitated for a moment before the little beast obeyed Pyrrha’s command and stepped back, clearing the way for Pyrrha to take her place, standing in the doorway facing Phoebe.

Phoebe smiled at her and reached out, taking Pyrrha’s gloved hands in her own. “You are, as you have always been, the better warrior,” she said, “but now, I see you are the better woman too. I am sorry, I am so very sorry that I ever doubted you. Now, before it may be too late, I would be reconciled with you. Forgive me, Pyrrha, I beg of you, and let me kiss you as a dear friend and comrade.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, the expression on that milksop face harder to read than Phoebe would have liked. But at last, she said, “Of course. In truth, there is very little to forgive; rivalry is as much a part of the tournament circuit as combat itself, after all. But, in as much as you require forgiveness, I forgive you and welcome the opportunity to know you better as a friend.”

She turned her cheek ever so slightly. Phoebe leaned forward and placed a kiss first upon her left cheek, and then — when Pyrrha turned her head the other way — upon her right.

Someone took a picture; Phoebe could see the flash illuminating Pyrrha’s face. It was a pity they were only going to get a shot of her back, but it was unavoidable in the circumstances.

Phoebe released Pyrrha’s hands and took a step backwards. “You carry the hopes of Mistral on your shoulders,” she said. “And I am certain that you will bring honour to us all.”

Sunset’s hand glowed with the emerald light of her magic as she telekinetically shut the door.

“Do you believe that?” she asked.

Pyrrha half turned towards her. “Do you ask if I believe that it just happened or that I believe Phoebe’s sincerity?”

“Either,” Sunset replied. “But I hope the answer to the second one is ‘no.’”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “I might, possibly, have believed her, although even then, I would have found it hard to swallow, if it were not for … the things that you have told me you observed in Cinder’s memories.”

“Exactly,” Sunset muttered. “You know, it occurs to me that that woman is the reason for all our problems.”

“I think Salem might be a little surprised to hear that,” Pyrrha said mildly.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. If she hadn’t treated Cinder the way she did, then there would be no Cinder, not for you to fight, not to have caused the Breach … not for us to fear at all. All our troubles would be … if not over, then at least diminished.”

She paused for a moment. “You know, considering that we only found out about Salem because Cinder had made it urgent that someone be recruited, if Phoebe could have only managed to be a decent loving stepsister, then we’d probably be enjoying a perfectly ordinary school year by now, preparing for the Vytal Festival in bliss.”

“In bliss?” Pyrrha asked. “Or blissful ignorance?”

“How happy has knowledge made you?” Sunset asked.

“A fair point,” Pyrrha acknowledged softly.

“If Phoebe didn’t mean any of that — and I agree, she probably didn’t — then why bother?” Jaune asked. “What was the point of it?”

“The appearance of the thing, I think,” Pyrrha explained. “No doubt, she thinks it will enhance her reputation to be seen to be reconciling with me before I fight for my life. There is precedent for such things, old enemies putting aside their differences before one of them goes to battle. Palamon and Arcite were reconciled to one another before Arcite’s fatal duel with Pyramus, and after Arcite’s death, Palamon took Arcite’s sister into his house and under his protection, providing for her until her marriage.” She paused for a moment. “If I should—”

“Don’t,” Jaune said before she could finish. “Don’t say that. You’re going to win.”

Pyrrha glanced at him and smiled. “Of course,” she said.

“Is that really why she did it?” asked Ruby. “I mean … it still seems … is anyone really going to care?”

“Inasmuch as they already care — about me, about Phoebe, about any of us who fight or have fought in the arena — then yes, I think they probably will,” Pyrrha replied. “The somewhat depressing thing is that this will probably work to enhance her reputation just as she hopes that it will.”

“So she gets to slander you to the point you have to go and fight this duel, then she gets to cry crocodile tears about how sorry she is — not for the slandering you, but for everything else — and apologise for social clout?” Sunset said. “That seems—”

“Wrong?” Jaune suggested.

“At the very least,” Sunset agreed.

“In the scheme of things, it hardly matters,” Pyrrha said. “A little popularity might even sweeten Phoebe’s nature.”

“It wasn’t sweetening that her nature needed,” Sunset muttered. “But I accept that there are more important things.” She frowned, a somewhat unpleasant thought striking. “Hang on, you said that this was a customary thing, right?”

Pyrrha nodded. “It has its roots in myth and tradition, yes.”

“So does that mean that we can expect a host of people and all their flunkies beating a path to our door so that they can be seen to publicly reconcile with you for all the ill thoughts they had and apologise if they ever doubted you or so much as looked at you funny?”

Pyrrha blinked and seemed to pale a little. “I … cannot guarantee that we will not have more visitors, that is correct.”

“Right,” Sunset’s voice was half a sigh and half a mutter. “Well, you will forgive me if I don’t have the stomach to tolerate a parade of insincere sycophancy—”

“You’re not the one who has to endure it all directed your way,” Pyrrha pointed out mildly.

“Yes, yes, that is true,” Sunset acknowledged. “And I feel sorry for you, believe me, but all the same … that doesn’t mean that I want to stand here and watch while you endure it.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Understandable, in the circumstances.”

“Where are you gonna go?” asked Ruby.

“I … I’m not sure yet,” Sunset admitted. “Somewhere a little quieter than this might turn out to be.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, “I don’t know how Cinder will respond to my challenge, but she may either call you or, more likely, have someone else — Emerald or Lightning Dust — call you. In that case … I trust you to make the arrangements on my behalf. The place, the time, who will be present, all of that sort of thing. I leave the details in your hands.”

“You … you don’t want me to check with you first?”

Pyrrha shook her hand. “I trust you to act in my best interests.”

If I was acting in your best interests, I would call this … no, no, I might not. After all, it isn’t as though you were free from troubles before you decided to do this.

I have to admit, if you win this fight, it will be just the thing to give you your confidence back.

And you will win. You will win. You have to win; I won’t accept anything else.

“I am … honoured,” Sunset murmured. She bowed from the waist at a forty-five degree angle. “And in this office, I will serve you well, I swear it.” She paused. “I suppose, given the circumstances, it might be best if I went somewhere quiet and out of the way where no one can overhear if Cinder decides to call.”

“That would probably be for the best, yes,” Pyrrha agreed.

Sunset nodded. “Right then, I shall take myself off to some secluded spot … and wait for the call which…” …the call which I hope and dread. “I’ll wait for the call.”

With one hand, she checked that her scroll was in her jacket pocket as she walked towards the door, Pyrrha making way for her as she did so.

Sunset opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

As she heard the click as the dorm room door locked behind her, she could not restrain a sigh from passing her lips.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

It was only then that Sunset noticed Yang, standing just beyond her own dorm room door, her back to the wall facing SAPR’s room, her arms folded.

“You waiting to speak to Ruby?” Sunset asked.

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you might come out here,” Yang replied. “If only so I can ask what that herd was moving down the corridor just now.”

Sunset cringed. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t count on a peaceful day from now on. There might be more of that to follow.”

“Why?”

Sunset let out another sigh — they would bloat her at this rate — and said, “Since Pyrrha is going to be risking her life soon, probably, everyone is coming to performatively apologise, kiss, and make up for any bad blood between them, so that … so that if she … so that if she…” So that if she dies, then they can say that they reconciled before she passed, and everyone will say how generous it was of them, and noble.

She couldn’t say it. The words stuck in her mouth fit to make her choke upon them. It was as if … it was ridiculous, but she felt as though if she spoke the words too often, then she would conjure it into existence, that if she mentioned that Pyrrha might … she didn’t even want to think about it.

Sunset’s chest rose and fell, her breathing coming in gasping breaths. She hated them. At this moment, she hated them, not only Phoebe but all of these Mistralians and their culture that they would treat Pyrrha like this, that they would compel her with their mores to…

Sunset found that there were tears welling up in her eyes.

She felt, rather than saw, Yang’s hand upon her shoulder, drawing her forward, pulling her into an embrace.

“Easy now,” Yang murmured, stroking Sunset’s fiery hair with her other hand. “Easy now. It’s okay. Pyrrha’s okay; she’s on the other side of the door.”

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut. “I know that I should be supportive and believe in her—”

“You don’t have explain to me,” Yang said. “I get it. You can believe in someone, you can support them every step of the way, you can think — you can know — that they’re totally awesome, but … but that doesn’t make them invulnerable or immortal.”

“Yeah,” Sunset whispered. “Yeah, you’re right; I am worried about her.”

“I can get that too,” Yang said softly, ever so softly. “I gotta say, it’s a heck of a long way to go because someone wrote something mean about you.”

“It isn’t that,” Sunset replied. “It … it’s not just that, anyway.”

“Then what?” Yang asked.

“I don’t know if I ought to say,” Sunset said. “I don’t want to spread Pyrrha’s secrets all over the school.”

“I could get upset and point out that I’m not exactly ‘all over the school,’” Yang remarked. “But … I get what you mean. You don’t have to tell me. If you say that there’s another reason, that there’s a good reason for Pyrrha to do what she’s doing, then I believe you.” Yang stepped back, releasing Sunset from the embrace but keeping both hands upon Sunset’s shoulders. “Just so long as Pyrrha knows that you believe in her too. It’s okay to be worried, just so long as she knows that it isn’t because you don’t think she can win.”

Sunset sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “That … that’s good advice,” she said. “I will … definitely take that when I get back, although right now, I need to…”

“Need to what?”

“I … I need to get a call from Cinder to set up the duel,” Sunset said.

Yang was silent for a moment. “I know that you’re big on tradition and stuff, but at some point, even you have to admit that this is kind of absurd, don’t you think?”

“It seems that way,” Sunset admitted. “But … my objective assessment is so clouded by the circumstances as to make objectivity impossible, but … it’s worked out for them for hundreds, thousands of years, even across battle lines. Honestly … if it wasn’t Pyrrha … I’d maybe, probably, think it was kind of cool, you know? Two people meeting to settle a dispute themselves, instead of having a war over it, just two people fighting instead of armies, sparing cities and people the trouble and the worry. Taking on the burden of their causes wholly on themselves.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound heroic,” Yang acknowledged. “Kind of … kind of what huntsmen are meant to do, come to think of it: taking on the burden, doing all the fighting so that there don’t have to be armies. Only trouble is that this fight isn’t going to solve anything, is it? Everything is going to be just the way it was, except…”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Except … but like you said, I need to believe in Pyrrha. I do believe in Pyrrha.” It’s just unfortunate that I know Cinder too. “If anyone can do this, she can.”

“Tell her, not me,” Yang told her. “But still, the idea of you getting a call from Cinder is ridiculous.”

Sunset let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah … ridiculous. Totally ridiculous.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“It’s what I do,” Yang told her, with a slight smile and an equally slight shrug of her shoulders. “I was going to make some coffee; do you want something?”

“No, thanks,” Sunset said. “I have—”

“Places to be, right, got it,” Yang said. “Good … well, you don’t need luck, do you?”

“Not for this part, I hope,” Sunset said as she left Yang behind and started down the corridor in the direction of the stairs.

Thankfully, she managed to make it to the stairs, down the stairs, and out of the dorm room without running into any more Mistralians coming to offer their insincere apologies coming the other way.

She didn’t believe that any of them would be sincere. If they were sincere about wanting to make amends, then they would have done it before now, instead of waiting until…

She still didn’t want to think it. The point was that she didn’t believe in any of these apologies or desires for reconciliation. It was all just … it was all theatre.

Which Sunset might not have been opposed to, admittedly, except that in the circumstances…

Sunset put them from her mind. There were a lot of things that she liked about Mistral, not least the look of the place; it was just that this… the current situation had got her nerves jangled that was all.

Nevertheless, when she got back, she would have to take Yang’s advice and let Pyrrha know that she did believe in her.

Which she did. Pyrrha was the real deal, after all, and if she’d been going up against anyone but Cinder Fall, then Sunset wouldn’t have worried; she might not have liked the fact that it was single combat in any event, but she wouldn’t have been actively worried the way she was now.

That was Cinder’s doing.

It didn’t help that her feelings about Cinder dying were…

I should hate her. I told her that I hated her, and I…

She is responsible for all of this. She is the reason why … except she isn’t, is she?

She gave me a choice, but I was the one who took it. I hate her because I hate myself.

Except I don’t actually hate her.

I feel…

I admire her, a little, fighting against four kingdoms and all the power of Atlas, making a challenge to the entire system of the world, defying … everything. I wouldn’t have that kind of courage, or that kind of resolve. I wouldn’t be able to fight such a fight; I would quail before the strength of opposition.

I ran away in the face of far less trouble.

So yes, though I might not be able to say it openly, I admire her courage, whatever the ends to which she puts her courage.

But most of all … most of all, I feel sorry for her. Not just because she was so cruelly mistreated, although there is that — although there is also the fact that she would not wish to be pitied for it — but more than that. I feel sorry for her because she has nothing in her life but wrath and revenge, and they will burn her to ashes ere they consume the world.

Sunset walked across the courtyard, heading out across the open grounds of Beacon in the direction of the farm; not a place where she often spent time, but at the same time … it was not a place where a great many students spent a lot of time, and so she had reasonable hopes of privacy there, with only the chickens to overhear.

The chickens appeared to be in fine fettle when Sunset arrived; someone had spread a load of feed upon the ground in their enclosure, and they were clucking as they gobbled it down eagerly.

Sunset remembered Pyrrha’s story from before, about the sacred chickens and how there was not allowed to be a fight unless they ate, conveying the favour of the gods upon the battle. She wondered if the Beacon chickens were sacred enough that it might be considered a good omen that they were eating, and though she couldn’t be sure, she found herself rather hoping that it was true.

It occurred to Sunset that the reason not a lot of students came down here was that if you weren’t a big fan of farm animals, then there wasn’t much to do out here, and there wasn’t much for her to do out here while she waited for a call.

I should have taken my journal out here and written to Princess Celestia or Twilight.

Sunset heard and felt her scroll buzz in her pocket, the suddenness of it making her jump. She fumbled a little, taking longer in her haste to get her scroll than she would have done if she hadn’t been in such a rush. Nevertheless, she managed to get her scroll out of her pocket and open it up.

Someone was calling her voice only.

Sunset answered it. “Cinder?”

“No, it’s Emerald,” came the reply out of the scroll. “We do this through intermediaries, apparently.”

“Right, of course we do,” Sunset replied. “Hello, Emerald.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Really?”

“Well, we are talking to arrange a matter of honour,” Sunset pointed out. “It feels like we’re not really being true to the spirit of the thing if we don’t at least try and be civil to one another in the process.”

“Right,” Emerald muttered, sounding very unconvinced. “Well, yeah, so…” There was the sound of a page turning.

“Are you reading?” Sunset asked.

“I’m not reading; I’ve just got a book open on my lap,” Emerald said. “I don’t know all of this stuff off the top of my head; I’m having to check the rules.”

“I’m a little surprised that you care.”

“Cinder will care,” Emerald said. “She’ll want this done properly.”

“Of course,” Sunset said. “We wouldn’t want this done improperly, would we?”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“A little,” Sunset admitted. “But I’m taking this very seriously, I assure you.”

“But do you…?” Emerald hesitated. “Do you think that…? Can I trust you?”

“You probably shouldn’t be able to, considering that we’re enemies,” Sunset pointed out.

“If we’re enemies, then why am I calling you, and why did you say that we should try and be civil to one another?” Emerald asked.

“That … is a good point,” Sunset admitted. “We were enemies, we will be enemies when you end this call, but right now, we are—”

“In the same boat?” Emerald suggested. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“Of course I do,” Sunset said; she couldn’t say anything else to Emerald Sustrai.

“Liar,” Emerald said.

“You can’t possibly know that—”

“I know that I don’t think this is a good idea,” Emerald said, “and I know that … I don’t like you, but I think that we’re alike in that … we care. You care about Pyrrha, don’t you? You don’t want her to die?”

“Of course I don’t, and of course I care,” Sunset said sharply. “But Pyrrha’s going to win, obviously.”

“Bollocks,” Emerald replied. “Pyrrha has nothing on Cinder, nothing at all.”

Sunset gasped. “First of all: you’re delusional. Secondly, if you think that, why are you so worried?”

There was silence from Emerald on the other end of the line. “I … nothing is certain, is it?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “No,” she said. “No, it is not.”

“Is Pyrrha really doing this because of what some stupid magazine said about her?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied, because, again, she wasn’t going to admit anything more than that to Emerald. “Why is Cinder accepting?”

“Because she wants to kill Pyrrha,” Emerald replied.

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. Yeah. Yeah, that’s about what I thought.

“I’ve tried to talk her out of it,” Emerald went on, “but she didn’t listen. Have you tried to talk Pyrrha out of it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Emerald demanded. “Are you so confident?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Sunset said. But she went on to explain herself anyway, saying, “Pyrrha has the right to make her own choices; I can’t tell her what to do.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t tell her you think she’s making a bad choice.”

“I’ve been told that my way of telling people that I think they’re making a bad choice can be … overly strident,” Sunset admitted. “As a result … I’m experimenting with letting people do as they wish.”

“How’s that working out?”

“It’s not doing my nerves much good so far,” Sunset admitted.

Emerald snorted. “You know, it’s kind of funny, I guess,” she said, “but we … Cinder and Pyrrha, they’re both warriors. They both risk their lives … all the time, but it’s only now that I’m actually worried about her. Is that stupid, or is there something special about single combat?”

“Ten thousand fates of death surround them,” Sunset murmured.

“That’s from The Mistraliad, isn’t it?” Emerald asked.

“It’s a paraphrase,” Sunset said.

“Right,” Emerald said, in a tone that concealed whether or not she knew what that meant. “I’ve started reading it, but I’m not that far in.”

“I won’t spoil anything for you.”

Emerald chuckled. “Cinder tells me that it’s really good, and that I ought to read it for my … anyway; I also hoped that it would help me understand Cinder a little better.”

“How are you finding it?”

“Hard to understand at times,” Emerald admitted. “And also … I could never tell Cinder this, but they’re all… kind of awful.”

“That’s harsh,” Sunset replied. “Many of the heroes possess at least some admirable qualities. They’re rounded characters, with flaws and virtues in equal measure.”

“The Pyrrha in the story decides to throw a massive sulk and sit out the fighting because somebody took her slave away,” Emerald pointed out.

“Her pride was … in fairness, the poem has an ambivalent attitude towards Pyrrha and her actions; it doesn’t exactly praise every little thing she does,” Sunset said. “I think … the answer to your questions is that yes, there is something … if not special about single combat, then at the very least different about it, because single combat … the difference is they’re all alone, and we can’t help them.”

“Yeah,” Emerald agreed. “Yeah, it sounds obvious, now that you put it like that.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends,” Emerald said. “Ask, and I might answer.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Sunset. “Do you know who you’re working for?”

“I work for Cinder.”

“No, I mean—”

“Yes, I know who Cinder works for,” Emerald said. “Yes, I know about the grimm — how could I not? — so if you’re going to try and play some stupid headgames where you convince me to change sides or betray Cinder, then cut it out; it’s not going to work.”

“I would never encourage you to betray Cinder,” Sunset assured her. “That would be … it would be like stabbing her in the back. I just want to know why. I can understand why Cinder is doing this; I wish that it weren’t so, but I understand. But you … you don’t seem the type to want to take your anger out on the world. Apart from anything else, you don’t seem very angry about anything.”

Emerald was silent for a moment. And then a moment more. “I … I’m a thief. I was a thief. I didn’t have anything but what I could steal, which wasn’t always much. I was … nothing, until Cinder found me. She promised me that I’d … lately, she’s been teaching me how to act like a lady.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose, for all that Emerald couldn’t see it, the call being voice only. “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Emerald said. “Can’t you tell by my elocution?”

“You still need to work on your vocabulary choices.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Emerald huffed. “The point is … I’m loyal to Cinder. Whatever road she’s on, though it’s bad for her, though it’s bad for the people around her, I’m loyal to Cinder. I’m not going to turn on her, I’m not going to walk away from her, I’m not going to betray her to help you or even to save my own skin. Yes, it could have been rough on Vale if the Breach had actually broken through, but you know what, so what? Vale never gave a damn about me, Vale never treated me like I was anything more than gutter trash, Vale … Cinder is the first person to treat me like I might actually be worth something; lately, she’s even been treating me like an equal. I’m not going to betray that, I’m going to be loyal to that, and even if it costs me my life, at least I’ll die alongside someone who cares. Here I stand, even if it’s where I fall.”

“And now you sound like a lady,” Sunset said. “Congratulations.” She paused for a moment. “You are a better person than those who scorned you in the street.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Emerald replied. “But … thanks anyway.”

“You know,” Sunset said. “We should probably actually get to work and sort out this duel, shouldn’t we? It almost feels as though we’ve been putting it off.”

“'It almost feels'?”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to snort. “Since Pyrrha challenged, your side gets to choose time and place. Within reason.”

“Yeah,” Emerald said. “I mean,” Sunset could hear the effort speak in a more refined manner in her voice, “Yes, indeed. I see that it is so. Our two … combatants shall meet in the Emerald Forest.”

“'The Emerald Forest'?” Sunset repeated.

“Somewhere Cinder can’t be easily seen or found,” Emerald said. “I don’t want General Ironwood’s troops swooping down on her.”

“You don’t trust Pyrrha’s honour?” Sunset asked.

“Even if I did, I still wouldn’t trust General Ironwood,” Emerald replied. “What reason does he have not to take out Cinder if he gets the chance? Why should he feel bound by Pyrrha’s honour?”

“That is … a fair point,” Sunset conceded. There was no reason for General Ironwood to respect the sanctity of the duel; he wasn’t a Mistralian, and they were at war, to all intents and purposes. It was not impossible that he might seek to turn this situation to his advantage. Just as Emerald might be trying to turn this situation to her advantage, or Cinder’s. “But the Emerald Forest? It’s full of grimm.”

“That’s not something you’ll have to worry about with Cinder around,” Emerald replied. “You don’t trust us?”

“You did lead us into a trap at Mountain Glenn the last time we talked like this.”

“That was Cinder, not me, and if you couldn’t work out ahead of time that it was some kind of trap, then that’s on you, not us,” Emerald said. She hesitated. “Listen, for what it’s worth, Cinder really is taking this seriously. Nobody thinks that she should be doing this, but she is. She wants this. And she wants to do it … right. An ambush … that wouldn’t satisfy her.”

Sunset did not reply immediately. What Emerald said … it made sense. It tracked with what Sunset knew of Cinder. She hated Pyrrha, yes, but she wanted to triumph over her personally, not bury her beneath the grimm.

And the challenged party did have the right to choose the place; Sunset could object if she thought that Emerald was abusing that right, but she did not have a power of veto over the location.

“Where in the forest? It’s a big place,” Sunset pointed out.

There was a pause. “I’m sending you some coordinates; it’s a clearing. Pyrrha will be able to reach it from the cliffs.”

There was a ping on Sunset’s scroll notifying her that she’d got a text.

“For the same reason it’s happening in the forest,” Emerald went on, “the duel will take place at midnight.”

“Tonight?”

“There’s not much point waiting around, is there?” Emerald asked.

“No,” Sunset murmured. “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

“Each combatant will have two marshals to observe the duel and ensure that the rules are followed,” Emerald said.

“Three marshals,” Sunset responded.

“Two,” Emerald insisted. “We don’t have three marshals.”

That was a point that was impossible to argue, and so Sunset said, “Very well, two marshals.”

“And you won’t be either of them,” Emerald added.

“What?” Sunset replied. “You can’t specify that.”

“I just did.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve already broken a truce once when you tried to kill Adam,” Emerald pointed out. “I don’t trust you.”

“And I thought we were becoming friends,” Sunset said, and she wasn’t even being entirely sarcastic about it.

“Maybe in another life,” Emerald said. “But in this life? I don’t trust you to be there and not intervene to save Pyrrha when the fighting turns against her. Like Maenad, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself.”

“You’ve gotten that far in The Mistraliad then,” Sunset observed; the goddess Maenad rescued Pandarus from his death at the hands of Melanippe, whisking him away from the battlefield to his palace in Mistral.

“Do you deny it?”

“No,” Sunset muttered. “No, I cannot say for certain that I would be able to help myself. Very well, two marshals, and I will not be there.” I will fret and wait and look for her coming from the cliffs and envy Jaune and Ruby.

“In the Emerald Forest,” Emerald said, “at midnight.”

“In the Emerald Forest,” Sunset agreed, “at midnight.”

Waiting is the Hardest Part (New)

Waiting is the Hardest Part

Pyrrha looked up as the dorm room door opened and Sunset walked in.

“Emerald called,” Sunset said.

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “And?”

“Midnight, in the Emerald Forest,” Sunset said. “I’ve got the coordinates for the exact location here; apparently, you can reach it from the cliffs, and I can believe that.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment.

So, it will be so soon.

Better sooner than later, I suppose.

But still … quite soon, all things considered.

“I see,” Pyrrha said, her voice very quiet, barely more than a whisper. “Thank you, Sunset.”

“The Emerald Forest?” Jaune said. “Are you sure about this? What if it turns out to be an ambush?”

“As I said to Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha murmured, “I … trust Cinder in this, if in nothing else.”

“Because she is a Mistralian,” Jaune said sceptically.

“Because she wants to beat Pyrrha in a way that … counts, for want of a better word,” Sunset said. “Believe me, the thought did occur to me, but … in the circumstances, I don’t see that there’s much choice but to trust Cinder’s … honour.”

“There’s always the choice to not go through with it,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, that is no longer a choice for me. Having challenged Cinder, having threatened her with the shame of cowardice if she did not answer my challenge, if I were to shrink from her now, then I would look like the coward. And I would not be thought of so.” She smiled thinly. “After all, that’s part of what this whole exercise has been about, hasn’t it? My reputation.”

My reputation and my confidence. I would lose both if I were to cower before Cinder now.

“You’ll have two marshals to observe the integrity of the duel, and so will Cinder,” Sunset went on. “Unfortunately, I can’t be one of them. Emerald was very specific.”

Pyrrha frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Apparently, after what happened in Mountain Glenn with Adam, she doesn’t trust me,” Sunset said. “I can’t say that I really blame her, in the circumstances, although … I do wish that I could come with you.”

I… Pyrrha was somewhat surprised to find that she was at least partly glad that Sunset would not be present in the forest. She liked Sunset a great deal, Sunset was her best friend, but at the same time, Pyrrha found that she shared Emerald’s scepticism that Sunset would be able to prevent herself from interfering in the duel if the outcome was not going the way she wanted it.

That was not a slight against Sunset, whose concern for her friends’ wellbeing was greatly to be valued in almost all circumstances, but in this particular circumstances, it would not be welcome.

This was something that Pyrrha had to do, herself.

Always be the best and hold your head up high above all others.

If she did not do this, then Pyrrha would not be able to hold her head up at all, never mind above all others.

She had to do this, and if that meant that Sunset had to be kept far away, unable to interfere, well, then perhaps in this one instance, that was a good thing.

She rose to her feet, standing up off the bed, and looked to Jaune. “Jaune, will you be one of my two marshals?”

Jaune nodded. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. “I will ask Arslan to be the other.”

“You will?” Sunset said. “I thought that…” She trailed off, seeming unable to say what she wanted to say.

Pyrrha breathed in, and then out. She looked at Ruby. “I don’t know whether you’ll take this as a slight or a compliment,” she said, “but I find that I feel the same way about you that Emerald seems to about Sunset: that I can’t trust you not to interfere in the duel.”

“You mean you think I’d try and save you if I thought you were going to die?” Ruby asked.

“That, or attack before the duel had even begun because our enemies were before us,” Pyrrha replied.

Ruby tilted her head a little, first one way, and then the other. “That … I think that’s actually a compliment,” she said. “Though I think it might be kind of an insult to Jaune and Arslan.”

“This is what Pyrrha wants,” Jaune said, although his voice sounded a little strained as he said it. “And I trust her to get it done, if anyone can.”

“And Arslan is a Mistralian,” Pyrrha added, “one who has imbibed our peculiar traditions and attitudes. If she is willing to do me this service I have no doubt that she will be able to hold herself back, no matter the outcome.” She paused for a moment. “Speaking of which, I think that I should probably go and speak to her and make sure that she is willing to do me this service, shouldn’t I?”

“Do you want me to come with?” Jaune offered.

“No, thank you,” Pyrrha said. “I’ll be fine on my own. I … I may not come straight back here afterwards; I … you can reach me on my scroll, if you need me.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Jaune said, “Okay. We … I’ll be right here.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. She considered kissing him before she left, but decided against it; it might have seemed … forced. It didn’t seem like the right time, at any rate. But she smiled at him as she walked towards the door and stepped out into the corridor.

Her long ponytail swayed a little behind her as she turned down the corridor, her footsteps almost inaudible upon the carpet, her red sash trailing after her as she walked towards the stairs.

As she passed the kitchenette, she heard Nora’s voice cry out, “Hey! Pyrrha!”

Pyrrha turned her head to see Nora emerging out of the kitchenette, holding a sandwich — salami, or possibly chorizo — in one hand.

“Good afternoon, Nora,” she said politely. “Late lunch?”

“Nah, just fixing myself a snack,” Nora explained. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m on my way to see Arslan Altan,” Pyrrha explained. “I … I want to ask her to be one of the two marshals at my duel with Cinder.”

Nora put one hand on her hip. “So, you’re really going to go through with it then, huh?”

“Having issued a declaration on television in two kingdoms, I can hardly not, can I?” Pyrrha responded. “Not while saving any degree of face.”

Nora looked up at her. Before she said anything, she took a bite out of her sandwich. She began to talk with her mouth full, rendering any words an indistinguishable and indecipherable mass of mumbling.

“I beg your pardon?”

Nora swallowed. “Sorry. I said you’re gonna kick ass, right? Gonna show that nobody better mess with you.”

Pyrrha’s lips curled upwards. “That’s certainly the plan.”

“Oh, you have a plan!” Nora cried. “Well, you’re going to win for sure, then. People with plans almost always come out on top; that’s why I don’t do so well in combat class.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Aren’t you one of the best students in combat class?”

“And if I had a plan before every fight, then I’d be showing you who the real invincible girl was around here!” Nora said enthusiastically.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?”

“You know it,” Nora said. “One hit from Magnhild, and you’d be done!”

“Then it’s a good job for me that you’ve never managed to hit me with Magnhild, isn’t it?” Pyrrha replied.

“It is for you, yeah,” Nora declared. “Hey, Pyrrha, is this what it means to be Mistralian?”

Pyrrha blinked. “I’m not sure that I understand the question.”

“Ren and I … we’re not really proper Mistralians in a lot of ways,” Nora explained. “Sure, we grew up in Anima, but … well, we didn’t exactly have a normal childhood, either of us, and … well, we moved around a lot, from village to village, we never spent a lot of time in one place, we didn’t … we don’t really belong to anywhere. And sometimes … sometimes, I’ve wondered what it would be like if we’d grown up normally, in Mistral, or just anywhere. Would we have been like you?”

“Only if you’d grown up in a very specific stratum of society, or had a need to ape the trappings of that stratum’s values, as Arslan does,” Pyrrha said. “The assumptions of how to behave, who the proper role models are, what I should be aiming for, they’re very specific, not just to my city, but also to my class.”

“Then how do you know that Cinder is going to accept your challenge?”

“She already has,” Pyrrha told her. “We meet at midnight.”

“'Midnight'?” Nora repeated. “I don’t know whether that’s spooky or someone trying to be spooky.”

Pyrrha laughed lightly. “I think it might be a little of both.”

Nora chuckled at her own little joke. “So … if all of this is not just about being Mistralian but about being part of the upper crust, does that mean Cinder comes from some rich old family?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I don’t really know for sure, but I do know that she feels some … kinship to the old ways, an attachment to them. As I said, there are some who are forced to take on the trappings of noble customs — almost anyone who aspires to a successful career in the arena, for example — and there are some who are genuinely drawn to them. Cinder … may be one of those. There is no Fall family that I know of, but her name is almost certainly an assumed one.”

“Hmm,” Nora murmured. “I guess it’s no stranger than someone wanting to … what does she want? Working with the White Fang, trying to loose a whole bunch of grimm into the city, trying to … to do what? Was she trying to wipe out Vale?”

“I couldn’t speak to her intent,” Pyrrha said. “Or her ambitions.”

“But you know she’s bad news, and she’s gotta be stopped,” Nora said.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “And I will stop her, if fortune is kind.”

“'Fortune'? Pfft,” Nora declared scornfully. “You got this, girl.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you, Nora.”

“But,” Nora added, “if none of your teammates can say it so straight up to you … definitely don’t let it get to you, but also … don’t let it make you think they don’t back you up to the hilt. I mean, I’m just some loud girl who sits opposite you at lunch most days; those three … they’re the ones who love you.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said softly. “But—”

“But the thing is,” Nora went on. “The thing is that when we love someone, it can be … well, it can be hard to say how we really feel, for one thing, but at the same time … when we love someone, it … it makes us afraid for them. And that maybe kind of sounds like I don’t actually care about you one way or the other, which isn’t true; it’s just that what I’m trying to say is … when you love someone, when you know that if you lost them, if they weren’t around anymore, it would leave a hole in your life and in your heart, then … then it’s easy to get into a place where the hole that they’d leave behind is all that you’re thinking about, and not how awesome you know they are. So … just, maybe keep it in my mind before you get upset.” She shrugged. “Or don’t. I mean, I’m just a loud girl with a lot of funny stories, after all.”

Pyrrha shook her head. “You are much wiser than that, and I will keep your words in mind.”

Nora smiled. “If it helps. Now go get ‘er. Or go get Arslan, I guess. But in case I don’t see you again before you go: go get ‘er!”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “I intend to.”

She left Nora there, eating her sandwich with whatever kind of cold sausage made up the filling, as she herself descended the stairs and stepped out of the Beacon dorm room. The air had cooled a little; it was quite crisp as she walked across the courtyard, pausing in front of the fountain and the statue of the huntsman and huntress standing on the rock, with the snarling beowolf down below.

Pyrrha paid no attention to the grimm, all of her attention focussed instead upon the huntsman, his sword raised aloft.

She did not know his name, she did not even know if he was a real person — in Mistral, he certainly would have been, but in Vale, it was possible that he was nothing more than an allegorical representation of a huntsman, an ideal rather than an individual — but as she looked up at him, his sword raised towards heaven, she felt a kinship with him.

Like her, he had stepped forward to vanquish evil.

She was reminded of the end of the Great War, of the Battle of the Four Sovereigns. There, and in the battles that had gone before, many heroes had performed prodigious feats of valour, but on that last battlefield, none had surpassed the Last King of Vale himself. He had been a very god of war; great heroes like Achates Kommenos had fallen before his blade, and more than that … it was hard to credit, but reports of those who had survived the battle swore that they had seen him cleave whole companies with his sword, shatter units, shatter the ground itself. Whatever the truth of that — and with magic in the world, who was she to deny that it could possibly be true? — it was beyond doubt that he, personally, had ended the Great War with his valour and the deeds that he had done.

Fate grant that I may win a similar victory.

Obviously, she would not end a war single-handedly, at least on this battlefield, nor could she put an end to the greater threat of Salem, but if she could win this battle, if she could lay Cinder low before her arms, then how much would be ended? How much safer would Vale be, would they be?

Cinder had been beaten, it was true, she had been scotched, her plans had been thwarted, but so long as she lived, then she would plot again and scheme again and attack again and put everything at risk again.

But Pyrrha could stop her. She had the opportunity to stop her.

She would stop her. She would smite Cinder’s breast with Miló and send her crashing down to the ground, her soul fleeing in anger down to the shades.

And she would deliver the world from Cinder’s menace.

She would protect it, as she had always wished to do. As she had chosen to do long ago.

Pyrrha turned away from the fountain, walking across the courtyard to the dormitory where the Haven students were staying until the end of the Vytal Festival. Two huntresses lingered outside the door as though they stood on guard. One of them was Medea, who had offered to poison people on her behalf not too long ago.

The other was a girl whom Pyrrha did not recognise, a bear faunus with ursine claws in place of her fingernails, with freckles on her face and chestnut hair cut short above her shoulders. She wore a long white tunic that extended down past her thighs, but no visible skirt, shorts, or trousers of any kind; a pair of rough brown sandals enclosed her feet, while brown fingerless gloves covered most of her hands. She sat upon a low stone wall, one foot resting upon her other knee, a bow sat upon her leg.

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Medea hailed her as she approached. “I see that you’ve chosen to take a more … public approach to your problems than my poison.”

“Um,” Pyrrha murmured, with a glance towards Medea’s bow-armed companion.

The bear faunus grunted. “I know all about what she is, don’t worry: a tricksy little spider … but a very useful person to have around in a pinch.”

Medea chuckled. “I don’t have your boyfriend’s wonderful semblance which I hear can heal any injury, but my skill with herbs and potions has not gone unappreciated by my gallant teammates. So much so that they tolerate my perspective on the world, don’t you, Atalanta?”

“Atalanta Calydon,” Atalanta said, holding out one hand to Pyrrha. “It is an honour to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Pyrrha said, taking her hand.

Atalanta snorted. “No, it isn’t; I’ve done nothing yet worthy of honour, and you did not even know my name.”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “But now I do, and I will look for your deeds, and one day, I will be honoured to meet you again.”

Atalanta nodded her head. “You are as courteous as you are brave; do you truly mean to face your enemy in single combat?”

“I do,” Pyrrha said. “I have issued my challenge; I have no intention of backing down from it.”

“Personally, I would rather shoot someone from behind a tree than face them in a duel,” Atalanta said.

“But how to get your foe to a place where you can shoot them?” Pyrrha asked.

Atalanta was silent for a moment. “You make an excellent point,” she conceded. “Your way is more perilous, but it does at least draw out the enemy to where they can be fought.” She paused for a moment. “Are you a praying girl, Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Um, no,” Pyrrha replied softly. “No, I’m not. I have made offerings in the Temple of Victory, but … no, I am not a praying person.”

“Few enough are,” Atalanta acknowledged. “So I shall pray on your behalf to Sirius, the Hound of the Hunt, that you shall catch your quarry and return with the spoils.”

“And I to Thessaly,” Medea added.

“I thank you both,” Pyrrha said, “but now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Arslan.”

“Tyche Agathe, as they say,” Medea said as she gestured towards the door.

Pyrrha glanced at her and nodded. “Indeed.”

She used her scroll to gain entry into the building, but as the door swung open, she paused in the doorway. “I … don’t suppose that either of you know where Team Auburn’s dorm room is?”

Medea chuckled. “Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

“I’m much obliged to you,” Pyrrha said, stepping inside the dormitory so that Medea could come in.

Medea took the lead from that point, and Pyrrha followed her up two flights of stairs.

“I have to say,” Medea said, as they walked, “I’m a little disappointed in how changeable some of our young gallants have proven themselves to be over this. Of course, I should have known, the hearts of men are such changeable things after all, as the goddess teaches, but … those who called you traitor and foe to Mistral in the morning now sing your praises as a hero and upholder of the old ways.”

“I cannot say that I am sorry that their minds have changed,” Pyrrha replied.

“Oh, no, you must not mistake me; I’m not sorry for that either,” Medea said. “It’s just that, well, if you’re going to have bad opinions, at least have the courage to hold to them for a little while. Changeable, as I said. Was it very tiresome for you receiving all those well wishers?” She didn’t give Pyrrha a chance to answer before she added, “You’ll notice that Jason and Meleager weren’t among them.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, I did notice that.”

“I told them that an apology now would seem insincere,” Medea explained. “Although you may get one later … and it will be meant,” she added.

“If it is meant,” Pyrrha said, “then I will look forward to it.”

Medea led her down a corridor, looking very similar to the corridors in the dormitory where Pyrrha and her team lived, coming to a stop behind a certain door, functionally indistinguishable from all the rest.

“Here we are,” Medea said. “I’ll leave you to what business you have with our Golden Lion. The moon watch over you, Pyrrha Nikos.”

“I will endeavour to give her something worth watching,” Pyrrha replied.

Medea smiled. “I’m sure you will.”

She walked back the way that she had come, gathering the folds of her robe around her, humming softly as she went.

Pyrrha looked at the door and knocked gently upon it.

There was a moment of silence when nothing happened, before one of Arslan’s teammates, the one with fluorescent green hair, opened the door.

“Oh, hey,” she said. “You want to speak to Arslan?”

“If that’s possible,” Pyrrha said. “Is she here?”

The other girl nodded. “Hey, Arslan! Pyrrha Nikos out here.”

“Coming,” came Arslan’s reply. The other girl stepped back to allow Arslan to come to the doorway. “Hey, Pyrrha. What’s up?”

“Cinder has accepted my challenge,” Pyrrha said. “We will meet in the Emerald Forest at midnight.”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “Someone’s trying a little too hard. Do you want me to put the word out so that everyone knows that the duel is going ahead?”

“Actually, I was hoping that you’d agree to be one of my two marshals tonight,” Pyrrha informed her.

Arslan’s eyebrows climbed yet higher into the recesses of her wild and unkept mane of hair. “Me?” she said. “You want me to go down there with you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Pyrrha said. “Although, as I say that, I realise that I am asking a great deal.”

“It’s not that so much,” Arslan said. “I just thought you’d want your own teammates to be there.”

“Jaune will be there,” Pyrrha informed her. “But Sunset is not acceptable to the other side; they don’t trust her not to intervene in the duel.”

“And Ruby?”

“I’m not sure I trust Ruby not to intervene in the duel either,” Pyrrha admitted.

“I see,” Arslan murmured. “Sure, I’ll go with you. I can even film the fight.”

“Is that allowed?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m sure there’s no rule against it,” Arslan said. “And besides, you want to be able to prove that you actually fought the fight, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure that I want to release a video of myself killing someone,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You challenged someone to a duel to the death,” Arslan pointed out. “The death is … kind of important.”

“Perhaps, but … it sounds rather ghoulish to put it out there for people to see,” Pyrrha replied. “Some of my fans are children.”

“Also a very good point,” Arslan acknowledged. “You don’t have to decide right now, but I’m okay to film it, and then you can decide what or if you want to upload later, yeah?”

“Very well,” Pyrrha said. “You can film. I doubt that Cinder will object.”

Arslan put one hand upon the doorframe and leaned against it. “So, how are you feeling?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “The anticipation before a big fight is … I’d rather get it over with. The hours will pass so slowly. I want it done. I want her done. I want … I want this shadow that hovers about my shoulders gone.”

“How does she fight?” Arslan asked. “What does she fight with?”

“Glass,” Pyrrha said. “Glass which she moulds; it must be her semblance. I have seen her use a bow and a pair of scimitars, both forged from the same glass; it changes to her will. Of the two, I fear the bow more; she can manipulate the direction of her arrows, control their flight, even make them explode.”

Arslan winced. “What are you going to do about that?”

“Close the distance as soon as possible,” Pyrrha said. “And keep it closed, never giving her an opportunity to open it up again. She cannot hurt me with arrows she cannot shoot.”

Arslan nodded. “Sounds like you have it all straight in your head,” she said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about; you’ll be fine.”

Cinder had her back to the door, standing facing the windows, looking out across the decaying grounds of Portchester Manor. Once, she supposed, it had been a beautiful, a grand sight, a sight to impress upon visitors the wealth of the family, that they could afford a splendid garden and the gardeners to maintain it.

Now, it was nothing but weeds and overgrown grass; everything else had died or succumbed to decay.

Death would claim all things in the end, save only Salem herself. For the rest of them, those who were blessed and cursed with a mortal life, death would come for them now or later, so why fear it? Why fly before it? Why not, as the ancient Pyrrha had, choose to burn brightly, for however brief a moment?

Because, perhaps, there are those that we would leave behind who would grieve at our passing.

Perhaps you should have remembered that, Mother.

Fortunately, that is not true of me. I have nothing and no one to hold me back. There is nothing to impede my choice.

I am the true heir to the old ways; I am the true evenstar of a kingdom which, like this decaying garden, is crumbling before the advance of time.

I am full of wrath, I am bent upon revenge, I am the enemy of a great kingdom who will bring down its walls. In what way is Pyrrha Nikos a better Pyrrha than I am, save her name? I am the inheritor of that old heroic spirit, and I will make my claim undeniable.

“Look at me,” Cinder murmured. “I am the daughter of a pilot, a gentleman was my father, yet death and inexorable destiny are waiting for me.”

Let me only conquer Pyrrha before I die.

Cinder wished … Cinder wished that the gods were real; then she could have prayed to them, as the heroes of old had done, prayed to win undying glory in the field, prayed to make her name infamous before she died.

But the gods were not real. They had never been real. The only real gods had forsaken the world of men long ere the men of Mistral had constructed gods to pray to. Cinder could not help but find that fact a little … disappointing. The gods played such a great part in the story of The Mistraliad and in the other myths that to find out that they did not exist, that that part of the story was … well, you had to wonder what that part of the story was, didn’t you? Exaggeration? Magic? Fiction?

Of course, the rest of the stories were true. Cinder believed that with all her heart. Certain Atlesian scholars, uncultured philistines that they were, had begun to suggest all sorts of wild and contemptible theories about the composition of The Mistraliad, from dates to authorship. All of these, Cinder dismissed with magisterial disdain; The Mistraliad had been composed by the blind bard Demodocus, and he had recorded events that had actually happened no more than two generations removed from his own time and which had come down to him from the lips of those that were there. It recorded things that had really happened — apart from the gods obviously — just as all the great legends did.

Demodocus had recorded the truth about real people, and their real deeds had echoed down the centuries to inspire Cinder when she had been at her lowest ebb.

Those Atlesian scholars, puffed up with their own cleverness, would never understand what it was about these Mistralian tales that resonated in the hearts of men, because they were too busy trying to rip them to shreds. They could not see the forest for the … no, it was worse than that; they could not see the great house for all the bricks they were so cheerfully ripping out of the walls to study them more closely.

And yet, the great house would remain standing long after they and their theories had been forgotten.

If Cinder lived long enough to carry Salem’s war to Atlas, she might pay those scholars a visit and remind them of that fact.

And then kill them, for trying to spoil everyone’s fun.

If she lived.

“Cinder?”

Cinder looked over her shoulder. Emerald stood in the doorway; she no longer cowered as she would have done; her back was straight and her chin was up. Cinder was proud of her for that; she was not doing so well with her elocution, which had a regrettable tendency to slide back towards the plebeian in sound and language, but she had mastered posture admirably well, and the rest would come, with time and practice.

She would make a rare lady, Cinder was sure. One like Cinder’s own mother even, able to hold her own in at least the society of officers and gentlemen, even if she could not quite pass muster amongst the grand old families of Mistral. The likes of Nikos and Rutulus and Ming would probably smell her out as not belonging, but if Emerald set her sights a little lower, then Cinder had no doubt that she would fool them all.

And if she kept on practicing, then there was no reason she should need to lower her sights.

She really was doing very well.

“Emerald,” she said calmly. “Did you speak to Sunset?”

Emerald nodded. “I just finished with her.”

“Good,” Cinder said. She paused for a moment. “How did she sound?”

Emerald hesitated. “We … share a common feeling that this is … ill advised.”

Cinder chuckled. “Were you so careful with your words when you and Sunset were talking about Pyrrha and I behind our backs?”

“Yes, of course.”

Cinder raised one eyebrow. “You’re an excellent liar, Emerald.”

“Thank you, Cinder.”

Cinder smirked. “She is worried for Pyrrha, then?”

“She wouldn’t admit it in so many words,” Emerald said. “But yes, I think so.” She paused for a moment. “I’m worried about you, too.”

Cinder looked away, turning her face and her gaze back out upon the gardens. “Sunset should be concerned for Pyrrha.”

“But I should not be worried about you?” Emerald asked.

“I…” Cinder hesitated for a moment. “Destiny is all,” she said. “What terms did you agree with Sunset?”

“The duel will take place at midnight,” Emerald said. “In a clearing in the Emerald Forest; that way, we won’t be spotted by Atlesian forces, or Valish for that matter, although that’s less of a concern. It’s the same reason that I chose midnight; the darkness will give us cover.”

Cinder nodded. “That is sensible, and I am not opposed to it. It will lend our battle a certain rarefied air.” She smiled. “We will meet upon the witching hour of night, with unquiet spirits as our witnesses, and the moonlight shall shine upon our clashing blades.” And by the end, Pyrrha will have become just such an unquiet spirit, or I will.

“Oh, that I had a lamb,” she said.

“A lamb?”

“Or a pig,” Cinder added. “Either would do.”

“For what?” Emerald asked. “Why would you want either of them? Are you hungry?”

Always, but for something other than the flesh of an animal, Cinder thought. Her hunger was of a different sort, a sort that could not be sated, a sort that was eternal and restless and consuming. It gnawed at her, as if, in the absence of sustenance, it had begun to devour her own insides. Cinder tried to ignore it, since she could not sate it, but it was hard when it gnawed so hard and roared so loudly.

“I would cut their throats and make a sacrifice of them, as was done in the days of old,” Cinder explained. “And I would let their blood pool in a cup, and with that blood, I’d paint my face all in red, I’d smear myself with it, I’d wash my hair in it and let the blood drops mat within my raven locks.” She turned to face Emerald. “I would make myself a frightful apparition and appear before Pyrrha looking like something deathly monstrous.”

“You’d ruin your dress,” Emerald pointed out.

Cinder let out a bark of laughter. “Yes, yes, I suppose I would, and it isn’t as though we can send out for dry cleaning. Perhaps it is a good thing there are no farm animals close at hand after all. Who will be there, aside from Pyrrha herself?”

“Two marshals,” Emerald said. “I don’t know who they’ll be, except that Sunset won’t be one of them. I insisted on that. After what happened with Adam, I don’t trust her.”

“No,” Cinder agreed. “Sunset is … not without honour, but that honour would never stand up to the possibility of Pyrrha’s death. To prevent that, she would break all oaths and violate all codes of conduct. So, it will be Jaune then, and … Ruby, perhaps, or someone else. A Mistralian. It matters not; by custom, they cannot interfere unless I or my marshals violate the customs of the duel, which I will not. Two marshals, then; once we are done here, tell Lightning Dust to start getting ready; I will have Tempest babysit Sonata until we return. Thank you, Emerald; you have done well.”

Emerald smiled slightly. “My pleasure, Cinder.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “In Mistral,” she said, “about half a mile south of the city wall, shielded from view of the road by some trees, there is a hill called CaoCao’s hill. It is there, according to the old tales, that two lovers, Pylades and Deianeira, arranged to meet. You see, their fathers were great rivals and had forbidden the two to meet, but they had spoken through a chink in the wall that separated the gardens of their houses. In love, they arranged to meet at this hill and thence to fly far away where they might, without the peril of Mistralian law, be wed.

“Deianeira arrived first, but there, waiting in the darkness for her love, she was set upon by a beowolf. She fled, escaping from the grimm, but dropping her shawl in the process. The beowolf mauled upon the garment a little and then … wandered off, in search of other prey, leaving Deianeira’s ruined shawl behind for Pylades to find when he arrived upon the hill. Believing his love to be dead at the paws of the grimm, he took his own life in grief, and then, returning to the scene to find Pylades dead, Deianeira did likewise.”

“What a sad story,” Emerald murmured. “Tragic, really.”

“Is it?” Cinder asked.

“Isn’t it?”

“Tragedy implies something … internal,” Cinder said. “A flaw in the hero which drives him to his end. What happened to Pylades and Deianeira was sad, to be sure, but also the result of nothing more than bad luck; their own natures played no part in it. Unless it is their parents’ tragedy; had they not been so bitter towards one another, so uncompromising … they could have allowed their children happiness, had they wished. Instead, they drove them to their deaths out of stubbornness and pride. In any case, if you go to that hill, you will find a cherry tree growing there now, and if you dig at the roots of the tree, you will find a sackful of treasure that I buried there some years previously.”

Emerald blinked. “Treasure? You mean … like, pirate treasure?”

Cinder laughed. “No, Emerald, my life has not been quite that long to fit exploits of piracy into it, although the treasure that a pirate takes starts out as quite ordinary treasure before the pirate gets his hands upon it so … yes, I suppose you may be right, it is like pirate treasure. But this treasure … it belonged to my father.”

Emerald’s eyes widened somewhat. “Your father?”

Cinder nodded. “Inside the bag, you will find some of my mother’s jewellery, a small number of Atlesian medals for service and gallantry, a bejewelled ornamental egg, an elegant snuff box, an engraved silver cigarette case … all of it mine by rights, liberated from those who had sought to deny it to me.”

That was … not entirely true. Most of the contents of the buried sack belonged to Ashley Little-Glassman by right, from her father and her mother — her mother’s jewellery, the egg that her father had gotten her mother for their anniversary, the snuff box and cigarette case that she had gotten him — but there were a few items in there that had belonged to the Kommenos family, like the gold and silver goblets that one of their ancestors had won in the conquest of Kaledonia. Those Cinder had taken in payment for her years of unpaid labour. But to say that would be to say more to Emerald than Cinder was willing to admit.

“Your family,” Emerald murmured. “Why did you bury it?”

“I had no home,” Cinder said. “And I could hardly carry a sack full of valuables with me on the road, could I? In any case, I … I had no immediate need of it.”

“You could have sold it,” Emerald pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Cinder allowed. “Although I would have been forced to accept far below what the items were worth, in the circumstances, in order to find a buyer in the lower slopes. I was … not in much position to bargain at the time. And at the time…” At the time, I didn’t want to sell them. I didn’t want to cut this last tie with Ashley’s life, with the life that I had known when I was happy.

“I didn’t feel as though I needed the lien, at the time,” Cinder went on. “I had other plans.”

Emerald paused for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m giving it to you,” Cinder said. “The treasure beneath the cherry tree; you may retrieve it and do with it as you will. It’s all yours.”

“But it’s yours,” Emerald replied. “Your family—”

“Mine to give to whom I choose,” Cinder said, cutting her off. “You asked me once how you could be a lady without money, and I told you that I would address that later; well, here we are: I am addressing it. I am giving you wealth, at least enough to get started. When you open the sack, you will find that some of the things within are quite valuable. Make sure that you aren’t cheated, and you should have a store of working capital at your disposal.”

“And you’ll be dead,” Emerald said. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You mean to die, so you’re leaving me everything.”

“Would you rather I left it to Lightning Dust?” Cinder asked.

“I’d rather you didn’t leave it to anyone at all,” Emerald declared. She walked forwards, her heels tapping upon the wooden floor of the library, until she and Cinder were less than an arm’s length apart. “Go to Mistral yourself, go to the hill with the cherry tree, dig up your own treasure, and—”

“And then what?”

“Whatever you want!” Emerald cried. “When you have money, you can do anything. Money is … it’s freedom.”

Cinder smiled thinly. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, it is. Freedom to do as you will and to harm others if you wish.” She turned away and turned her back on Emerald. “But I … I do not desire freedom.”

“Do you seriously mean to tell me that in this whole wide world, there is nothing at all that you would consider living for?” Emerald asked.

“This wide world is so cruel,” Cinder replied. “This wide world is so hostile. This wide world is so full of the most wretched, hideous, corrupt, contemptible, hateful people that you can imagine. So no, Emerald, there is nothing in this world that would persuade me to live in this world alongside those I hate, because that would mean letting them live too, and accepting all the cruelty and the pain. Rather, I will kill those I hate, as many as I can, all of them if I am allowed, and take a torch to this world and burn away the rotten flesh of its monstrosities. Though it cost me everything, I will do it.”

After all, it has cost me so much already, I can hardly turn back now.

“Provided you don’t die tonight,” Emerald muttered.

Cinder snorted. “Yes, Emerald, provided that I do not die tonight.”

“If…” Emerald murmured. “If you used—”

“No,” Cinder said firmly. “I will not do that.”

“But you’d win for sure!” Emerald protested.

“That is precisely why I will not; it would defeat the object, it would prove nothing,” Cinder declared. “I am the truer warrior than Pyrrha is, the fire burns brighter in my breast, the beowolf howls louder in my soul, I am the hungrier to triumph by far than that complacent girl. I do not need to steal a victory, and if I did … it would undermine any claim to superiority I might possess. I will conquer with my own strength … or fall, if destiny would have it so.”

My destiny is grander than to fall at Pyrrha’s hands.

At least, I hope that it is so.

Pyrrha’s steps had taken her beyond the armoury, leaving the sounds of the forge behind as she approached the river that ran towards Vale. The water flowed past her, babbling as it went, a swift-flowing torrent rushing towards the sea. It was clean here, and it seemed almost golden in the afternoon sunlight; Pyrrha wondered if it would be so clean when it finally reached the ocean.

It reminded her of home a little; in Mistral, a spring sat near the top of the mountain and flowed down it, waterfall by waterfall, cascading down the steps carved into the rock, rushing down the slope, watering the high and middle and the low all at once; no matter how much might divide the people of Mistral, they all drank from the same water.

Pyrrha approached this river, here at Beacon, watching it flow past her, indifferent to her and to all her deeds. She might live, or she might die, and the water would keep on flowing just the same.

It was a thought both comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

The water flowed past her, just as it did back home.

Home where Pyrrha’s thoughts turned now.

The Colosseum, the Temple of Victory, the White Tower, the Palace and the Fountain Courtyard; the Cthoneum, dug out of the heart of the mountain, where games were held each year at the turning of winter to spring to honour the gods of the underworld; the plazas, the statues, the steps emerging out of the slopes of the mountain to provide additional flat land to build upon. The columns and the colonnades, the gleaming marble, the polished bronze, the beauty. The way the banners on the walls rippled in the wind.

The way the crowd cheered as she emerged from darkness into light.

The way the paint felt on her face as they made her up for her triumphal chariot ride.

Her home. Her past. Her past … and her future too. Pyrrha closed her eyes and listened to the water running by in ignorance of her and vowed to herself that she would not perish at Cinder’s hands; she would not accept that as her destiny. That was not her final goal, to die at the hands of a mean, black-hearted villain. That was not the end of the road that she was walking.

She would win, and she would go home, and she would see all those old places again, and more than once, and she would live amongst them with the respect of the people and of her peers.

This … this was the moment. This was what she had been preparing for her whole life, though she knew it not, this moment when she would confront an enemy bent on doing grievous harm to the world: not an immortal demon, not a host of monsters, but a woman, like her. A woman swift and strong, just like her, but a woman she could defeat.

A woman she could kill.

Pyrrha wondered what that would be like. To take a life. Jaune had done it, Sunset had done it, but she … this would be her first.

And she did not know what it would be like, to see blood stain Miló, to see it spill upon the ground and know that she had been the cause.

Better Cinder’s blood than innocent blood, Pyrrha thought. She did not know how she would react, but … she would bear it, to say the least.

It might not be in fashion to rejoice at the death of an enemy as the heroes of old had done, but that did not mean that Pyrrha had to weep for them either.

Cinder had chosen this path. She could not complain about where it led.

This is how I will protect the world.

Pyrrha’s eyes snapped open as her scroll went off. She frowned a little beneath her circlet as she fished the device out of her pouch, wondering who would be calling her. Perhaps it was one of her friends; better them than the press wanting a comment.

Somewhat to her surprise, it was Blake.

Pyrrha opened up her scroll and answered it. “Blake?”

Blake’s face looked up at her from out of the screen. “Hey, Pyrrha; I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“No, it’s fine,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Although I am a little surprised to hear from you.”

“Well, I was surprised to find out that you’d challenge Cinder to a fight to the death,” Blake replied. “So I guess … no, I’m still the more surprised.”

“You know about that?” Pyrrha said. “I wouldn’t have expected it to be news in Atlas.”

“It isn’t,” Blake said. “But I keep an eye on the Valish news; I have push notifications set up; I want to know in case anything happens while I’m gone.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said evenly. “Are you going to try and talk me out of it?”

Blake smirked. “Now why would I want to do a thing like that?”

“Some people seem to feel as though I’m making a mistake,” Pyrrha explained.

“Rainbow Dash would probably think so, if she were here,” Blake admitted. “But she isn’t, I am, and I … I envy you a little.”

“'Envy'?”

“I trust that you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t think you could win,” Blake said. “Has she taken the bait?”

“Bait implies there is a trap somewhere,” Pyrrha observed. “There is not. There is only me, with Miló in one hand and Akoúo̱ in the other, ready to partake in one of the most ancient and, in some ways, most sacred of rituals.”

“Very well,” Blake allowed. “Has she agreed to duel with you?”

“She has,” Pyrrha said. “We meet at midnight in the Emerald Forest.”

“Midnight,” Blake murmured. “Appropriate. The death of one day and the rising of another.”

“When you put it like that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s much like the rationale for meeting at dawn, no?” Blake asked.

“I suppose so, but I think that Cinder wishes the cover of darkness as much as the symbolism.”

“The pragmatic and the poetic can coexist,” Blake pointed out. “The point is … I envy that you have an enemy you can defeat. You can face your foe in single combat, defeat her, kill her even. And then she will be dead and done, and the world will be a better place for it. I wish that I could be so fortunate.”

“Racism is not so easily overcome as Cinder Fall,” Pyrrha said softly.

“No,” Blake said. “No, it isn’t.” She paused for a moment. “Which is why I think you’re very lucky. You get the chance to make a difference with a stroke of your sword.”

“With good fortune.”

“Tyche Agathe,” Blake translated. “Those are the words on your honour band, aren’t they?”

“They are, yes.”

“Then fortune will favour you,” Blake declared.

“Because I am in the right?” Pyrrha asked.

“Why not?” Blake responded. “Right will win out in the end. I believe that. I have to believe that. Right will win so long as we have the courage to fight for it. Pyrrha, will you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Call me tomorrow,” Blake said, “and tell me how you conquered.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I will,” she said. “I promise.”

Blake nodded on the other side of the scream. “Then I will leave you to your preparations. Good fortune and fate smile upon you.”

She hung up.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha turned from the waist, twisting her body around to look behind her. Ruby stood there, hands clasped together in front of her.

"Ruby," Pyrrha said, putting her scroll away. "How did you—?"

"I've been looking for you," Ruby replied. "I… I don't want to disturb you, but … can we talk? Just for a little bit, I promise."

"Of course," Pyrrha said, "we can talk for as long as you like."

A smile appeared briefly upon Ruby's face, and then faded as she walked towards Pyrrha. She came to stand by Pyrrha's side, not looking right at her, but rather looking at the river that flowed past them, heading onwards towards Vale and the ocean beyond.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the water's rippling sound as it went by.

Ruby gripped her left elbow with her right hand, her silver gaze falling downwards towards the ground.

"You know," she said, "if I could … I'd give you my eyes."

Pyrrha looked down at her. "Ruby—"

"It's fine," Ruby said, "I get it. The power that I have is kind of incredible, and it would be even more if I knew how to use it better. But if I could … I'd give it to you, if that would make you happy." She looked up at Pyrrha, a slightly mischievous smile playing across her face. "I'm not sure Jaune would like silver eyes as much as he likes your green eyes, though."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "Ruby … I don't want to steal your power away from you."

"But you wouldn't be, if I gave it to you," Ruby pointed out.

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be. But you can't."

"No," Ruby admitted. "I guess I can't, but … but I would, if it would make you happy."

"You would give up your power just to make me happy?"

"Well, that and because I know that you'd make good use of it," Ruby added. She paused for a moment, looking away from Pyrrha. "I … I never wanted to be a hero."

Unlike me, Pyrrha thought, although Ruby's tone, soft and slightly melancholy, made it hard to tell if she was being rebuked or not. Her response was cautious, "No?"

"No," Ruby said. "I was never … growing up, I knew about Mom, Yang used to tell me stories, but … nobody used to tell me that I had to be like her, nobody told me that I wasn't living up to her example, nobody told me that I needed to uphold the Rose name."

"So you think it is my upbringing that has bred this desire in me?" Pyrrha asked.

"Hasn’t it?" Ruby replied.

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. "You may be right, at least in large part," she admitted, "but I could have upheld the dignity of the Nikos name by remaining in Mistral and racking up an endless succession of tournament victories. I chose this path for myself." A sigh escaped her. "Although I suppose that 'this path' need not have included my more grandiose ambitions. You think I'm being vain, don't you?"

"No," Ruby said. "I don't … I've been looking for you because I don't want you to think that … I wasn't trying to insult you; I just… I get frustrated sometimes, because—"

"Because we have given you cause for frustration," Pyrrha murmured.

Ruby snorted. "Yeah. Yeah, pretty much."

"I am sorry for that; it was…" Pyrrha trailed off, unable to say quite what it was. "It came from care, perhaps even the same care that now drives you to think I am the one making a mistake."

Ruby took a moment to reply. "If … if you wanted to stand your ground against a horde of grimm to help one hundred people, ten people, even just one person get away, even though it would cost you your life … I would never say a word against it; Sunset might, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't think less of you, and I wouldn't hear a word said against you, either. But this…"

"It is true that nobody's life is directly threatened at present," Pyrrha acknowledged.

"We're here to help people," Ruby said. "Not to cover ourselves in glory. When there are lives at stake then we should be prepared to give everything, even our lives, but now … nothing's at stake here but—"

"But my life, and that of Cinder Fall," Pyrrha said. "But tell me, Ruby, and tell me true and honestly … how may I help people better than by striking down Salem's champion and, with her, killing all her plots and schemes? What better service to the people can I offer? True, I will not save a life directly, no one will thank me for their salvation, but what of that? Is help not help regardless?"

"But if that's what this is about, then let's go together!" Ruby cried, balling her hands into fists and raising them up to just beneath her chin. "Let me and Sunset go into the Emerald Forest with you, we'll lie in wait and ambush Cinder, we'll take her down together."

"Lure her into a trap?" Pyrrha asked. "Deceive her? Break my word?"

"She'd do it to us," Ruby said.

"I'm not entirely sure that's true," Pyrrha murmured, "and even if it was, don't we have an obligation to be better than her?"

"We are better than her," Ruby insisted. "We're fighting for … for life against death, like Professor Ozpin said; what could be more obviously right than that?"

"And so the justice of our cause justifies anything that we might do in its name?"

"Yes!" Ruby declared. "When our enemies are trying to destroy the world and cause massive death and destruction, there is nothing we could do that would make us worse than them: lie, betray … kill, if we have to; with lives and kingdoms at stake, how can we do any less?"

"You … may be right," Pyrrha murmured. "In fact, I dare say that you are right, but … when I issued my challenge, I implicitly gave my word that I would act in accordance with the traditional customs around such things; I cannot break it."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Will not, if you will," Pyrrha conceded. "I will not steal a victory, but earn it."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Well," she said. "If you're gonna win, then I guess it doesn't matter that much how you do it. You are gonna win, right?"

"That is certainly my intent," Pyrrha said.

Ruby wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist, pressing herself against the taller girl. "Come back, okay?" she asked. "Come back with your shield."

"With my shield," Pyrrha said. "Or on it."

"No," Ruby said. "Not on it. With your shield; I won't accept anything else."

Pyrrha smiled and returned the embrace, placing both her arms around Ruby. "Very well then," she said. "With my shield, I will return."

Her Name Means Victory (New)

Her Name Means Victory

Night had fallen. The moon was up in all its shattered and fragmented glory, and that fragmented silver light shone down to glimmer upon Pyrrha’s armour.

Pyrrha stood upon the cliffs now, her hands clasped together in front of her, waiting.

Waiting for Arslan, in the most practical, pragmatic and immediate sense, but also waiting for the moment to depart.

Waiting for the battle that was to come.

Jaune was with her — naturally, since he would be coming with her — and so too were Sunset and Ruby, here at the cliffs to see her off.

There was no one else, for which — the absence of Arslan aside — Pyrrha was very thankful.

“She’s late,” Sunset remarked.

“Arslan will be here,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“What if she’s decided not to show up?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha shook her head. “That isn’t her style; if she had changed her mind, she would have told me so before now.”

“I admit, she seemed like a good sort in the forest,” Sunset murmured. She paused for a moment, glancing away from Pyrrha, reaching up to scratch the back of her head with one hand. Her tail was limp, hanging loosely down between her legs, almost touching the grass beneath her feet.

“Listen, Pyrrha,” she said. “I … I feel like I owe you an apology.”

“Really?” Pyrrha replied. “For my part, I cannot think why.”

“No?” Sunset asked. “Come on, it can’t have … I mean … I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t have faith in you. I’m afraid … I wouldn’t want it to seem like the reason I didn’t like this was because I thought you’d lose, because that’s not it.” She looked at Pyrrha now. “You’re the best fighter I know, and my best friend, and I absolutely believe in you, and I’ve always believed in you ever since you managed to beat me while I was going all out, so … if it comes down to it that only one of you is going to walk away from this in one piece, it’s going to be you, but … it’s just that … it’s just that you’re my best friend and—”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said softly, yet firmly enough to cut her off before she could continue. “I understand.”

Sunset’s ears, which had begun to wilt like flowers deprived of water for too long, pricked up a little. “You do?”

Pyrrha nodded. “I admit that … it was a little vexing to me, especially since it seemed to confirm … everything. It’s true that I would have preferred a more full-throated expression of confidence, but … Nora had a word with me, earlier today; she explained that concern need not necessarily imply a lack of faith and that … that I should be charitable to those who loved me and not assume the worst of them.”

“Nora said that?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha nodded.

Sunset snorted, and a little giggle escaped her.

“Is something funny?” Pyrrha asked.

“Not really,” Sunset admitted. “But it was Yang who told me that I needed to actually tell you that I believe in you, or you’d take my concern for lack of faith.”

Pyrrha let out a little laugh of her own. “I see. The ladies of Team Iron are as wise students of human nature as they are students here at Beacon.”

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. “If they were keeping Blake, they would be … formidable indeed.” She paused for a moment. “So you understand, then? It was never … I know you can do this. I know your quality, your capability, but—”

“But you are aware of Cinder’s also, and aware too that, in battle, there is always an element of chance,” Pyrrha said. “I understand, and I thank you for your concern, but—”

“But now is not the time for doubt,” Sunset said. She walked towards her, her tail beginning to shake back and forth behind her as she went. “Now is the time to say,” she smirked a little, “that I am so very confident in your success that I’m going to go to bed as soon as you leap off this cliff and fall asleep with nary a care in the world.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “If you wish, I will not begrudge you your rest.”

Sunset reached out and took Pyrrha’s hands in her own. “You are our champion, just as I told you. You will always be our champion, and you will cut through any single foe who dares to stand against you. You will win.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “Is this … hard, for you?”

“Hard?”

“That I and Cinder—”

“No,” Sunset said firmly. “If it comes to a choice between you two … there is no choice. You are the one whose life matters to me, you are the one whose victory I desire, you are the one I would see with victory’s laurel upon your brow.”

Pyrrha was not certain that Sunset could be so certain as she sounded, but she appreciated the attempt at resolve nonetheless. It was what she needed to hear.

What she needed to believe.

“It is … strange,” Pyrrha murmured, “to think that this may — this will — be over soon.”

“'Over'?” Ruby asked.

“Cinder dead,” Pyrrha explained. “Cinder dead and her threat dead with her, banished from Vale.”

“But Salem will still be out there,” Ruby pointed out. “There’ll be other battles, other missions.”

“But not right now,” Jaune said, and as he spoke, he wrapped an arm around Pyrrha’s waist. “Not for a while, maybe, while she … finds some other Cinder who hates the world enough to try and destroy it, while she makes her plans, figures out what to do next.”

“Indeed, Mister Arc,” Professor Ozpin said, emerging out of the darkness. “Always, the shadow lengthens and grows again, but that does not mean that the effort to cut it down to size is not worth making or that the interludes of peace are not worth enjoying.”

Sunset let Pyrrha’s hands fall from her grasp. “Professor?”

“I hope you forgive the interruption,” Professor Ozpin said, a genial smile upon his face. He had one hand clasped behind him and the other resting upon the handle of his cane, which rested on the ground beside his foot. “I thought that I might come and see you off, Miss Nikos.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “I didn’t wish you to put you to any trouble.”

“No trouble at all, Miss Nikos; I often work late, in any event,” Professor Ozpin replied. “And this strikes me as the very least that I can do, in the circumstances. You are very brave to take this path.”

“This is my skill, Professor,” Pyrrha replied. “My glory, if I have such a thing to glory in. If I did not take this path, I would be not only unworthy of your service, but also unworthy of much else besides that … has turned out to be dear to me. I … I did not love my reputation until I began to contemplate what I might be without it.”

“You would yet be a brave girl, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin assured her. “But, if you think your reputation, and your sense of self, is worth fighting for, then I will neither begrudge you nor call you mistaken. Every student at this school comes here for their own reasons, driven by their own motives, and those motives are all equally useful.”

“'Useful'?” Jaune asked.

“In driving the students to excel,” Professor Ozpin explained, “and to perform acts of gallantry and devotion.”

“So, when Pyrrha wins,” Ruby said, “you think that there’ll be … a break?”

Professor Ozpin nodded slowly. “It is the way, or at least, so it is recorded in the accounts that have come down to me from my predecessors. Salem will make some fresh attempt upon our defences, that attempt will be beaten back, and then there is a lull while Salem … regroups, replaces her losses, and as Mister Arc perceptively pointed out, decides where and when to strike again. Miss Nikos' victory will not release you from this battle — unless you wish to take your leave of it; you are not bound to it in perpetuity — but it will afford you breathing room, I hope, for a few years at least.”

“A few years,” Pyrrha murmured.

“The few years at school that we should have had without all of this stuff getting in the way,” Jaune said.

“Quite so, Mister Arc.”

“We could compete in the Vytal Festival without having to feel as though it was unimportant,” Sunset said. “Or that we were somehow slacking off by taking part in it.”

“And spend the next three years with only classes and grades to worry about,” Jaune added.

“And graduate,” Pyrrha said. “And only then, only once we had become true huntsmen and huntresses, would we even need to consider the possibility that Salem’s shadow might darken the world once again.”

“Perhaps not even then,” Jaune added.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said. “Sometimes, whole generations can pass between one effort of Salem’s and the next. When one is immortal, I suppose one has the luxury of patience.”

“'Generations'?” Ruby asked. “So … so when Pyrrha wins, this might … it might be the last you need of us?”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far, Miss Rose; after all, Salem made no great offensive in your parents' time, but I still had need of their services; the shadow weakens, but it never disappears completely, and I am never completely without need of trusted agents whom I can rely on.”

“And you will be able to rely on us, Professor,” Pyrrha assured him, “but, all the same…” All the same, it sounded as though it would all so much more low-key; low-key and perhaps even low stakes. Well, comparatively, at least. It sounded as though they would have the peace to enjoy the remainder of their time at school together, and then to plan their futures with only minimal involvement from Professor Ozpin and his need of them. They might stay together as a team, and Pyrrha rather hoped they would, or else Ruby and Sunset would go their own way, and Pyrrha and Jaune would go to Mistral as they had discussed while babysitting Adrian, but either way, their choices would not be dictated for them by Salem’s threat.

It was … a liberating notion. Three years of fun and friends and laughter, three years with Jaune, three years with no shadow hanging over them, and then … who knew?

A golden world lay before them, and all she had to do was triumph tonight.

"Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha turned to see Arslan approaching at a jog, waving at her with one hand.

Pyrrha raised her own hand in greeting. "I told you she'd be here," she said mildly.

Sunset didn't reply, but then, she didn't really need to.

Arslan drew near, stopping just a few feet away from Pyrrha and the others. "Hey," she said. She paused as she noticed Professor Ozpin. "Professor. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"One of my students is about to descend and fight a battle against an enemy of mankind," Professor Ozpin observed. "Where else should I be but here to bid her farewell and good fortune?"

"Um," Arslan murmured. "To be honest, Professor, I'm a little surprised you're not trying to stop this. This isn't Mistral, after all."

"True," Professor Ozpin agreed. "But as the Vytal Festival draws ever closer, let me remind you that this is a time for the sharing of ideas, the experiencing of new customs, the mingling of cultures in an atmosphere of enthusiasm and curiosity. If I were to take a chauvinist line and insist that Vale knows best, well … that would be rather contrary to the spirit of the times, would it not?"

"I … suppose so."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "My apologies, Miss Altan; when one has been a teacher for as long as I have, one can rarely resist the opportunity for a lesson. Of course, what I should really do is thank you for accompanying Miss Nikos tonight."

Arslan bowed from the waist. "A girl from the lower slope can have as much honour as a princess, if she wishes it." As she straightened up, she said to Pyrrha, "Sorry I'm a little late; everyone wanted to come and see you off, and it took me a little bit to persuade them not to."

"I see," Pyrrha said. "I appreciate that you did."

"I thought you might," Arslan replied. "I wouldn't have minded a crowd of well wishers, but that was never your style."

"Not since I began to doubt that they truly wished me well," Pyrrha said.

"That's a little unfair," Arslan said. "Everyone's rooting for you."

"Nevertheless," Pyrrha said, "the presence of my friends is all that I require."

She looked at them, Sunset and Ruby. "Sunset, Ruby, I—"

"With your shield," Ruby said.

Pyrrha smiled and nodded firmly. "With my shield."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "The hero must go," she said, "but the true hero must also return," — she smiled — "trailing clouds of glory."

"I do not know about whole clouds of glory," Pyrrha said, "but I shall wear laurel on my brow ere I return." Or I will not return. "I … you…"

"No goodbyes," Sunset said. "Just … go, and then come back again."

"No goodbyes," Pyrrha agreed. She turned then to her marshals. "Jaune, Arslan, are you ready?"

"Yep," said Arslan.

"I'm ready," agreed Jaune.

"Very well then," Pyrrha said, and the moonlight glinted on her circlet, making it shine upon her brow as she faced the cliffs and the long drop into the forest.

Pyrrha breathed deeply in and out, her chest rising and falling.

"Let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves."

Pyrrha ran, dashing swiftly towards the cliffs before throwing herself off the edge in a great leap, arms spread out on either side of her as she fell downwards, speeding like an arrow loosed from the string, down and down into the darkness, down towards the forest.

The air buffeted her face, pressing at her cheeks as though it was trying to mould them like clay. Her crimson sash and vibrant red ponytail both alike streamed out behind her like banners in a cavalry charge. The trees rushed up towards her.

Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ out from off her back and held in front of her face, using it to crash through the stout branches that lay in her path, slowing her descent with each obstacle she hit and shattered, battering her way down to the forest floor on which she landed, gracefully, upon her feet.

She slung her shield upon her back once more and ran both hands through her long ponytail, scraping out any twigs or branches that might have gotten lodged there.

She didn't want to appear before Cinder looking as though she'd been dragged through a hedge — even if she'd actually been dragged through a tree.

Jaune took a similar approach to herself, using his shield to break his fall and break his way through anything that stood between him and the ground, but he managed it with a little less grace, flopping down onto the forest floor on his face and belly.

"Jaune, are you alright?" Pyrrha asked as she rushed to his side.

"Yeah," Jaune murmured as he let Pyrrha help him to his feet. "I've got a lot of aura, remember?" He grinned. "And besides, I didn't need you to pin me to a tree this time, so that's an improvement in my book."

"What's this about a tree?" Arslan called down from above. She had buried her knife in the great trunk of one of the mighty trees and was now hanging from it by a rope tied around the hilt. As Pyrrha looked up, Arslan scurried back upwards, climbing up the rope while keeping her feet on the tree trunk, and freed her knife before jumping down to join the others.

"I'd be happy to tell you the story of our Initiation," Pyrrha said. "But perhaps not right now."

"No," Arslan murmured. "No, not right now."

"How's everyone's aura?" Jaune asked. "Does anyone need a boost?"

"Don't worry about me, but you should top up Pyrrha, since she's the one who has to fight tonight," Arslan said.

"I didn't lose very much," Pyrrha said.

"You should be at your maximum anyway," Jaune told her, placing his hand upon her shoulder as it began to glow with the rippling golden light of his semblance.

It poured over her, spreading across her bare shoulders, over her face, down her cuirass towards her legs and down her legs to the ground; it was a gentle, comforting sensation, like a shower that was not too hot, but just the right temperature to soothe and refresh as it washed off the sweat of a hard day's exertions.

It ended almost too soon for Pyrrha's liking, but then, she hadn't lost very much aura, after all.

They set out through the Emerald Forest, picking their way through the darkness — Pyrrha had brought a little torch with her, and Jaune a larger one; Arslan used the torch on her scroll — towards the coordinates that they had been given. At times, Pyrrha felt a sensation in her aura as though she was being watched, as though there was something out there in the dark, but no grimm troubled them; they were not assailed upon the way by beowolf or ursa, their approach to the location of the duel was completely uneventful. Not even a distant roar or howl disturbed them.

Until they reached the clearing specified, where the moonlight fell upon the glade through the gap in the trees, casting the space in pale, silvery light.

And there, in the clearing, illuminated by the moonlight, stood Cinder Fall.

"So," she said. "You have come."

Sunset stood upon the edge of the cliff, looking out across the forest as the moonlight bathed the trees.

She could not see Pyrrha down there, or Jaune; she couldn’t see anything but the trees, the trees which concealed all else which walked upon the world below.

Yet she stood there nonetheless and watched.

“Do you think…?” Ruby began, but then trailed off.

Sunset looked at her. “Do I think what?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’ve started now,” Sunset pointed out. “You may as well finish.”

Still Ruby hesitated for a moment, before she said, “Do you think we should go after them?”

Sunset kept her eyes on Ruby. “Go after them and…”

“And ambush Cinder,” Ruby finished. “We know where they are, where Cinder’s going to be; we could take her out.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. It was … tempting, honestly. As much as her feelings about Cinder’s death could be described as ambivalent, she had meant what she said to Pyrrha: when it came down to a choice between them, there really was no choice. She would not give up Pyrrha for Cinder. And so … yes, it was tempting: go down there, reach the clearing by a different route, interrupt the duel.

Dishonour herself, and what was far more, dishonour Pyrrha in the process.

“Have you spoken to Pyrrha about this idea?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Ruby admitted. “Pyrrha didn’t like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Sunset replied. “What happened to letting people make their own choices, even if you don’t agree with them?”

“This is … different,” Ruby said. “You asked me whether I’d respect Leaf’s choice if she was choosing to get a load of dust together and blow something up.”

“You said I was being ridiculous,” Sunset pointed out, “and Pyrrha isn’t threatening to blow anyone up either, so I’m not entirely sure what you’re implying.”

“Of course Pyrrha isn’t doing that,” Ruby said, sounding a little frustrated that Sunset hadn’t gotten her point, “but … Cinder might, if Pyrrha loses.”

“Pyrrha isn’t going to lose,” Sunset said.

“Pyrrha’s not around to hear anymore,” Ruby said. “You don’t have to pretend. It’s not an insult to Pyrrha to say that bad things can happen, even to the best.”

“Yes,” Sunset murmured. “They do. But … as tempting as it is, no. We’re not going to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Pyrrha is our friend, and we’re going to have some faith in her,” Sunset insisted. “If we do as you suggest, yes, we might get Cinder, we might get everything that Professor Ozpin just promised us, but what is that going to say to Pyrrha? That we didn’t think she could do it? That we didn’t think she was up to the task? No, she has … told herself that often enough; we aren’t going to tell her that as well. This is what she wants; this is what she needs. And so, we are going to stay here, and we are going to wait for her return.”

“Miss Shimmer is correct, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “And so, by the sounds of it — although I admit I may be missing something from the context of your conversation — were your initial instincts. Choice … is the greatest gift that the gods have bestowed upon mankind.”

“Even the choice to do evil, Professor?” Ruby asked.

“The gift of choice was given that mankind might choose between good and evil, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin informed. “The path of creation, or the path of destruction. Of course, we also have the choice to fight against evil, stop it from harming others, and that is precisely the choice that Miss Nikos has made. Though it may not be the optimal choice to achieve your desired ends, it is her choice and should be respected for all that.”

“Yes, Professor,” Ruby murmured.

“That being said,” Professor Ozpin went on, “I am not sure how much purpose there is in remaining here, upon this cold cliff, with nothing to see and nothing to do. If you would both care to come with me to my office—”

“No, thank you, Professor,” Sunset said, a touch of sharpness in her tongue. “With your permission, I would remain here. I will look for their coming from this cliff until they return.”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I’m sure that it feels like an act of devotion on your part, Miss Shimmer, to wait, but … Miss Nikos will not know you waited, and it will afford her no advantage on the battlefield. Nothing will come from your discomfiting yourself but … your discomfort.” He paused for a moment. “I waited thus, the first times I sent agents out to do battle on my behalf, to go where I could not, to do what I could not; I bid them farewell, and then I remained where I had been as they departed, and I waited. Until I realised that it made no difference to the success or … failure of the mission; it helped them not, and it wasn’t helping me either. So now—”

“You go to bed, Professor?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin smiled thinly. “No, Miss Shimmer. I still wait. I do not think that I could do otherwise, even if I wished to. But now, I wait in my office, where it is a little warmer. I worry, yes, I fret, I wait, I watch … but I do it all in just a little more comfort.”

Sunset considered his words. She regretted the sharpening of her tone earlier; she had not considered what ought to have been obvious, that Professor Ozpin had done this sort of thing many times before; it was not callousness that moved him to speak but a different sort of care.

Nevertheless, she was not sure that she could agree with him; maybe it would not help Pyrrha; in fact, it certainly wouldn’t help Pyrrha to stand here, on the cliff, watching and seeing nothing.

But it might help herself.

“I apologise for my tone, Professor,” Sunset murmured as she drew Soteria across her back and planted its point upon the grass of the cliff. “But I fear I cannot take your counsel. You may be right, but … without my own experience to teach me the wisdom of it, I fear that all I would feel is guilt.”

“I understand, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “Perhaps it is one of those things that must be learnt practically. Matters of the heart are always the hardest things to learn from our elders. Very well then, Miss Shimmer, you shall remain here.” He planted his cane upon the ground. “And I shall wait with you.”

“So,” Cinder said. “You have come.”

Her bow was in her hands, the moonlight glinting off the polished black glass. Beyond the clearing, Pyrrha could just make out the figures of Emerald Sustrai and Lightning Dust, seeming almost to lurk in the darkness. They were Cinder’s marshals, she guessed.

Of course they are; who else is available to her?

Pyrrha strode into the clearing. “Did you expect that I would not come?”

“No, I thought you’d be here,” Cinder said. She smirked. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be glad you did.” She glanced past Pyrrha. “Jaune,” she said. “And … Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral; I confess that I’m surprised to see you here.”

Arslan grunted wordlessly.

“They are your marshals, then?” Cinder asked.

“They are,” Pyrrha replied. “As I presume yours stand behind you.”

“They do,” Cinder said. She paused for a moment. “I cannot say I know who spread those lies about you, Pyrrha, but I must say I’m glad they did, seeing as it has brought us to this moment.” Her voice dropped, becoming barely more than a whisper. “I have dreamed of this moment.”

“I did not come here to bandy words with you,” Pyrrha declared, drawing Miló across her back. Her weapon shifted smoothly into rifle mode in her hands, clicking and snapping as it transformed, every part of the weapon shifting into place. She gripped it tightly but kept the barrel down, pointing towards the ground. “But to speak with my sword and listen with my shield.”

Cinder chuckled. “If that is how you feel … but are you sure that you don’t want to give Jaune one last kiss?”

“What need have I to kiss Jaune now?” Pyrrha asked. “I will give him many kisses once this duel is over, in the days and years we have to come.”

Cinder raised one eyebrow, but the smirk remained upon her face; in fact, Pyrrha even thought it grew a little, although whether that was because she was amused by Pyrrha’s response or she thought Pyrrha arrogant, Pyrrha could not have said for certain.

She began to walk, sidling across the clearing, moving in a circle that would have brought her onto Pyrrha’s side if Pyrrha had not begun to move as well. The two of them circled one another, like two proud bulls who have come across one another in the field. Neither one willing to give place to the other, they snort and strut upon the ground and paw the earth with their hooves and wait for the moment to lock horns.

No, she may be a bull, but I must be the lion that leaps down on the proud bull from the high rock and slashes it to pieces with my claws.

Cinder moved with a feline grace herself, crossing her legs as she sidestepped; the moonlight upon her glass slippers made them sparkle, as though they were made of diamond, not of glass.

Cinder’s gaze flickered to Arlsan. “What are you doing?”

Arslan had her scroll out, held up before her face. “I’m recording this, for proof that it happened.”

“Really?” Cinder purred, and she reached up with her free hand to primp her curled black hair.

“You’ve no objection?” Pyrrha said. It was not against the rules, but it was hardly done, and if Cinder objected to it, then it would be bad form to go ahead and do it anyway.

“Object? Oh no,” Cinder said. “Film away. To be honest, that was the one thing that would have been missing from this experience. I want the world to watch you die, Pyrrha Nikos; I want everyone to see you fall, at my hands, and know that I defeated you in clean combat because I am Mistral’s evenstar! I embody the spirit of our heroes’ past in ways you couldn’t even dream of.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “Perhaps, in all your wrath, in your anger, in your desire to deal out death and destruction for nothing more than your own prestige, you do stand in direct line to the great heroes of old in ways that I do not, nor ever could. Very well then. I will yield that glory to you, for if I can be instead the morning star of a new Mistral, kinder and gentler and less self-absorbed, then that would please me better in any case.”

“'Self absorbed'?” Cinder demanded.

Pyrrha’s only response was to raise her eyebrows.

Cinder snorted. “You speak very prettily with your tongue for one who came to speak with spear and sword.”

“As do you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Cinder gave the slightest, almost imperceptible bow of her head. “Well then,” she said. “Here we are.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Here we are.”

They were silent for a moment, their eyes fixed upon one another.

Pyrrha could hear her heart thumping in her chest.

“I will make a bargain with you,” Cinder said. “Let us vow that whoever triumphs shall see that the loser receives an honourable burial.”

“I shall grant that to you, and gladly,” Pyrrha replied. “But for myself, I ask that if you send my soul down to the shades, you allow my body to be taken by my friends, that they may bear it homeward, to be laid to rest in my mother’s house alongside my ancestors.”

“Of course,” Cinder said. “I bear you malice, but I am not a barbarian to pursue my wrath beyond the grave.” She nocked an arrow to her bow. “Shall we begin?”

Pyrrha put her finger to the trigger of her rifle. “We shall.”

Cinder raised her bow. Pyrrha raised her rifle, firing her first shot before she had fully raised the rifle to her shoulder — it didn’t matter if her aim was poor; what mattered was that she get the first shot off before Cinder could loose an arrow. Her round thudded into the ground at Cinder’s feet, but Cinder shuffled her foot to avoid it and did not loose.

Pyrrha charged towards her, and as she charged, Miló now at her shoulder, she fired again, and a third time. She missed both times, as Cinder ducked and sidestepped away, but she did not loose an arrow.

And then there was no time as Pyrrha was on her.

Miló switched from rifle to sword in Pyrrha’s right hand as, with her left, she pulled Akoúo̱ from off her back onto the vambrace on her left arm. As she closed the distance with her foe, Pyrrha drew back her left arm and — as Miló completed its transformation — lashed out with Akoúo̱ like a discus in a sideways slashing stroke in a wide arc.

The blow struck Cinder’s bow clean in the middle, and as Cinder recoiled before it, the bow shattered into fragments of glass — fragments which reformed in the air into a pair of obsidian scimitars which flew, unerringly, into Cinder’s hands.

Cinder’s smile was savage as she leapt to the attack. Pyrrha strode forward to meet her, her expression set, determined.

Cinder slashed wildly with her right hand; Pyrrha took the blow on Akoúo̱, turning the stroke aside. She countered with a slash of her own aimed at Cinder’s neck, but Cinder parried with the sword in her left hand. Pyrrha drew back her sword, slashed again, Cinder parried again; a third time, Pyrrha’s sword swept down and beat on Cinder’s guard like a wave beating upon the sea wall, and a third time, the wall of Cinder’s guard took the blow without flinching.

A fourth time, Pyrrha drew back her blade, but this time, she tossed Miló lightly into the air, having first triggered its transformation from sword to spear, and while it spun, Pyrrha reversed her grip and thrust Miló down overarm like a thunderbolt to slam into Cinder’s collarbone.

Cinder spun around but recovered swiftly, turning the movement forced upon her into a graceful pirouette, flowing like water to face Pyrrha once again, both swords held above her head in a high guard.

Pyrrha charged for her. Cinder did not try to form her bow but rushed to meet Pyrrha. Pyrrha thrust underarm with her spear, aiming for Cinder’s belly. Cinder met the thrust with both her hands, striking Miló just below the head and turning it aside, before she reversed her right hand blade and slashed upwards with in a blow that would have sliced from Pyrrha’s navel up to her shoulder.

Again, Pyrrha took the blow upon Akoúo̱ and turned it aside. Cinder was open, but she leapt before Pyrrha could attempt to take advantage, jumping high up into the air, somersaulting over her head.

Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at her, the shield spinning like a disc as it cut through the air, but Cinder twisted in mid-air as nimbly as a salmon as she began to descend behind Pyrrha.

Pyrrha gripped Miló — still in spear mode — in both hands as she turned, thrusting it out as Cinder landed.

Cinder caught Miló between her glass scimitars, wedging it just below the point.

Pyrrha extended the spear, the point shooting out with a bang to strike Cinder the second time.

Cinder’s face twisted into a snarl of anger.

Good. Be angry; you’ll make more mistakes that way.

Miló spun in Pyrrha’s hand, and she plucked Akoúo̱ out of the air as it fell and slung it back across her back. She returned her free hand back to her spear, whirling it in her grasp as she slashed at Cinder with point and shaft in equal measure. Cinder fell back before her, but she parried every blow that Pyrrha sought to make; while she might not have been expertly tutored, her natural speed made up for it in most respects.

Yet she fell back, nevertheless.

She fell back, and her guard faltered, leaving an opening for Pyrrha.

An egregious opening; that is a trap.

Pyrrha did not take the bait, not striking for the opening but rather, halting her assault, retreating a pace with her guard up.

Cinder counterattacked, slashing with both her swords in parallel. Pyrrha parried with the shaft of Miló, but now it was Cinder’s turn to go on the offensive, slashing wildly, hurling stroke after stroke at Pyrrha. She was like a hurricane; the air seemed to howl with the swift onrushing passage of her arms; she was so fast and so strong that Pyrrha’s arms jarred from taking blow after blow, Miló shuddering from the force.

But if Cinder was the hurricane, then Pyrrha was the mountain; Pyrrha was Mistral itself, unmoving, her defence holding firm against all the assaults that Cinder could make upon it. Cinder was swift, too, terribly so, but she was also deeply obvious; at no point could Pyrrha fail to spot where her attack was coming from and, in seeing, block it.

Pyrrha retreated in the face of Cinder’s onslaught, just enough to open sufficient breathing room to fling Akoúo̱, sending her shield flying around Cinder in a wide arc. Cinder seemed to ignore it, continuing to hurl herself on Pyrrha in a furious flurry of slashing strokes.

Akoúo̱ began to fly back towards her, and a black outline formed around Pyrrha’s left arm as she guided the shield to strike Cinder in the small of the back.

Cinder leapt before the shield could strike. Pyrrha reached out to grab her shield before it could strike her.

Cinder landed atop of Akoúo̱, balancing on one foot upon the shield as, with the other foot, she kicked Pyrrha in the face.

Pyrrha’s head was thrown backwards, her jaw aching as her aura flared in pain. She leapt backwards, backflipping once, then twice, grabbing Akoúo̱ as she landed, flipping her long ponytail out of her face as she looked up into Cinder’s face.

Cinder who had already formed her twin scimitars back into a bow and had an arrow nocked and pointed at her.

Pyrrha charged at her, Akoúo̱ held before her.

Cinder loosed the glass arrow. It soared through the air for Pyrrha.

Pyrrha struck it mid-flight with the edge of Akoúo̱, shattering into tiny shards of glass, shards over which she trampled as she continued to rush towards Cinder.

Cinder smirked.

Pyrrha triggered Miló’s switch from spear mode into sword, and as it changed, she flung it into the air, spinning like a baton, while she gripped Akoúo̱ with both hands. As she charged, she spun on her toes, her red sash whirling around her as she turned to meet the glass arrow, reformed, that was racing towards her back. She took the arrow on her shield, knocking it aside, before she turned again, her sash wrapping itself around her waist, and with both hands, she slashed at Cinder.

Cinder’s bow crumbled in her hands as with both hands she grabbed Akoúo̱ and held it fast — though if she didn't suffer some loss to her aura in the process, Pyrrha would be astonished. Remembering Cinder's ability to manipulate the glass even when it was not fashioned into weapons, Pyrrha leapt away, grasping Miló by the hilt as it fell — gently guided by a touch of Polarity — into her hands.

Cinder threw Akoúo̱ back at her, but Pyrrha caught it on her arm, fitting it neatly there.

She faced Cinder, knees bent, body crouched low, shield held before her, and sword raised.

The black glass reformed in Cinder's hands, fashioning not the bow but the twin scimitars.

You might have done better to have tried the bow again.

Cinder charged at her, arms pounding. Pyrrha ran to meet her, moonlight glinting off her gilded armour.

Cinder slashed with the sword in her right hand, but her stroke was short, far too short for the length of her blade; she had not closed the distance sufficiently. Pyrrha's mind was already on her next steps; she would switch Miló from sword to spear and take advantage of the—

The blade in Cinder's left and dissolved into shards of glass, which flowed like water through the air to join with the sword in her right, forming a two-handed sword long enough to reach across the distance and slash Pyrrha across the belly just above the midriff.

Pyrrha retreated back a step.

Cinder's smile was bright as a knife. "You're not the only one who can play that trick, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha did not reply and kept her face expressionless. I cannot match her anger; therefore, I cannot let her make me angry. The moment I match my fury against hers, I am lost.

I must be virtue, and I must be calm.

But it was a mistake to assume she only had two weapons.

Cinder looked a little disappointed by the lack of a response, a pout forming momentarily upon lips painted as black as the night in which they fought. She attacked, her greatsword swinging for Pyrrha's head in a wide arc, a powerful stroke — with the way she had drawn her sword right back, she would take Pyrrha's head off if she struck without her aura — but obvious, verging upon clumsy. As Cinder swung, Pyrrha ducked beneath the incoming blow, spinning upon her toes with the grace of a ballerina as she pirouetted behind Cinder, slashing at her back with Miló in swift precise strokes once, twice, staggering Cinder before she reversed her grip and thrust her blade into the small of Cinder's back.

Cinder was already stepping forward away from the blow, but Pyrrha's thrust struck home nevertheless, if not as powerfully as she might have wished. Cinder turned, whirling on Pyrrha with another slashing stroke. Pyrrha parried, and then she parried the next blow too. Cinder slashed at her again, and this time, Pyrrha turned the blow aside with Akoúo̱.

Half of Cinder's sword dissolved, the fragments of glass flying like a swarm of flies all around Pyrrha's shield to attack her, biting and tearing at her aura like a shoal of piranhas sensing blood in the water.

Pyrrha ignored the damage to her aura — and the pricks of pain that she could feel through it — blocking a stroke by Cinder that sought to take advantage of her distraction. She leapt back, somersaulting in mid air, as her legs carried her out of the glassy swarm, and then no sooner had she landed than she leapt again, leaping up before either the glass or Cinder could pursue her.

She let Akoúo̱ go but used polarity to hold it in mid-air, providing a platform for her to stand on.

Miló flowed from sword to rifle in her hands as Pyrrha snapped off her last two shots at Cinder, who parried them both with the greatsword that reformed in her hands.

Akoúo̱ tilted, pointing downwards towards Cinder like a mirror trying to focus moonlight down upon her. Pyrrha kept her feet anchored to the shield with polarity so that she did not fall.

Rather, she jumped, Miló flowing from rifle to spear in her hands as she hurled herself bodily, like a bolt from heaven, down on Cinder.

Cinder swung at her with her greatsword as Pyrrha approached, but Pyrrha parried the blow aside with Miló before she struck Cinder, shoulder slamming into Cinder's midriff, arms wrapping around Cinder's waist, and bore her to the ground with a crash.

Pyrrha kept her arms round Cinder as she rolled, so that she was on the ground and Cinder was above her, then rose to her feet.

Cinder flailed in Pyrrha's embrace, grabbing Pyrrha by the bare shoulders. Pyrrha could feel her shoulders heating up, but she focussed past it as she hoisted Cinder in the air, grunting somewhat at the effort, then arched her back backwards as far as spine and cuirass would allow to slam Cinder face first into the earth.

Pyrrha dumped her there, to land upon her face and belly, before she knelt on Cinder's back and wrapped her right arm round Cinder's neck and started to choke.

Cinder thrashed like a fish torn from the river, grabbing Pyrrha's forearm with her hand. Pyrrha could feel the heat upon her arm, feel it getting hotter and hotter, as though she had laid her arm upon a stove and someone had turned it on, but she did not relent. She would not allow herself to relent. She could bear this pain; her aura could bear this heat; no matter how much it hurt, her grip would not weaken.

She would outlast Cinder; she had to outlast Cinder.

The heat increased, hotter and hotter; every instinct screamed at Pyrrha to pull her arm away, but she hung on, even as the glow from Cinder's palm became so bright as to make her want to look away, even as she began to wince from the pain she hung on.

Cinder growled and snarled wordlessly, like an animal caught in a trap from which it is desperate to escape. She slammed her free hand into the ground, digging her fingers into the soil.

The earth around her hand began to glow, the yellow-gold light rippling out around it.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. Surely she wouldn't—

The earth exploded, hurling both Pyrrha and Cinder up into the air along with countless clods of earth which erupted upwards all around them. Pyrrha spun around, hurled head over heels by the blast, unable to focus as the world whirled all around her, moon and trees and red hair dancing into her vision and then out again.

She blinked rapidly, fighting to clear her head. Steady her mind, steady herself. She flung her arms out on either side of her, arms wreathed in sable blacker than the night around, and summoned Akoúo̱ to her. The shield flew to her, obedient to her command, rising up beneath her feet to provide a footing for her to stand while she held the shield suspended in the air with Polarity.

Her fall arrested, she looked for Cinder; she did not have to look very hard as Cinder rose to meet her, standing upon a platform of her own, a little disc of glass which bore her up until she, too, floated in the air, only slightly below Pyrrha.

She looked ragged, unkempt, her hair a mess, her face and red dress stained; Pyrrha guessed that she herself didn't look much better.

Just as she doubted that either of them had a vast amount of aura left.

Which gives us both reason to want this ended quickly.

Pyrrha summoned Miló to her hand, switching it fluidly into sword mode; Cinder conjured a single scimitar out of glass.

Cinder's teeth were bared in a bestial snarl.

This pass will decide, I can feel it.

"I will not lose to you, Pyrrha Nikos!" Cinder roared. "Death at your hands is not my destiny!"

"And I do not choose to fall at yours," Pyrrha whispered. "I choose not to lose, because…"

"I believe in you."

Jaune.

"No goodbyes."

Sunset.

"Come back with your shield, okay?"

Ruby.

"I envy you."

Blake.

"Win one for Mistral."

Arslan. Everyone.

"Because I have people waiting for me," Pyrrha declared. "And so my destiny goes on, for them."

They leapt at one another, swords drawn back, free hands outstretched. Cinder roared with anger; Pyrrha was as silent as the grave. Cinder rose, and Pyrrha fell.

For a moment, they seemed to hang, suspended in the air though they had left both glass and shield behind, reaching for one another, poised to strike.

Pyrrha grabbed at Cinder's outstretched wrist, pulling it, twisting it, wrenching Cinder off her precarious airborne balance. Cinder's stroke went wide; Pyrrha's struck home across Cinder's shoulder as they began to fall.

Down they fell, locked together, spinning in the air as their blades clashed, both of them slashing and hacking at one another, the red-gold and the glass blade clashing with one another, crashing together like thunderclaps.

And as they fell, the gazes of Pyrrha Nikos and Cinder Fall did not leave one another's eyes; their swords clashed upon instinct while their eyes locked as though each sought to burn away the other with the power of their gaze.

Pyrrha let go of Cinder, curling up to roll in the air and with both feet lashed out, kicking Cinder down towards the ground.

She summoned Akoúo̱ after, sending it slamming into Cinder's midriff to drive her into the earth so hard, the ground itself shattered.

So did Cinder's aura, an amber glow rippling over her body as she lay in the crater she had made within the earth. Only the slightest movement showed that she yet lived.

Pyrrha landed a few feet away, summoning Akoúo̱ onto her left arm.

I have not much more Polarity in me, Pyrrha thought. She was starting to feel a little tired already, her arms heavier than they had been.

No matter. Cinder's aura was broken. She had won.

I won. I won! She could … she could believe it, but at the same time … she had feared that she would not be equal to this challenge. She had feared to have her fears proven right. She had feared that she would end at Cinder's feet, at Cinder's mercy, looking up at her enemy as Cinder taunted one who had presumed to a greatness she did not possess.

She had feared to be nothing more than a showgirl, fit perhaps to entertain a crowd, but for serious work, Professor Ozpin's work? Useless, unworthy, unequal to the challenges that lay before them.

But she had won. She had beaten Cinder Fall. Salem's champion lay before her. Yes, she could not defeat Salem, but she could best her greatest servants, and that was as much as anyone could do.

That … would suffice.

I have worth. I have a place in all of this.

And yet, once I put an end to Cinder, there will be little 'this' for me to have a place in.

And that, itself, will be all to the good.

She began to bear down on Cinder but was immediately pulled up short by the roar of a grimm.

An ursa major advanced out of the woods on her left, crushing the trees beneath its massive feet, shoving them aside to make way for its great, bulky, armoured form; a moment later, another emerged from the right, both of them massive, elder grimm, their backs studded with massive spikes of bone as long as lances jutting out of their black, oily flesh. They growled, their paws — with claws as long as Miló's sword form emerging out of them — swaying slightly as they lumbered forwards.

Pyrrha stepped back, bringing her shield up, preparing to rush the one on the right before the two of them could—

"No!" Cinder yelled. "Emerald, enough!"

"But…" Emerald murmured. "But you'll—"

"If that is my fate," Cinder whispered. "Enough."

The ursai disappeared, vanishing from sight as though … no, because they had never been.

Cinder groaned as she rose, slowly and unsteadily to her feet. "Forgive her," she said. "Our Mistral ways seem hard and strange to outsiders."

"Indeed," Pyrrha said softly.

Cinder groaned again and winced as she picked up her glass scimitar off the ground. She straightened up, gripping the blade with both hands as the moonlight glimmered upon it.

She looked at Pyrrha, only one eye visible, the other concealed beneath her bedraggled-looking hair.

With a great shout, Cinder charged, her bright blade swinging.

Pyrrha parried easily with Miló, the two blades clashing once again, and as they clashed, Cinder's glass sword shattered into fragments. Fragments which did not reform, which did not assail Pyrrha, fragments which simply fell to earth and lay there, unmoving, harmless.

Cinder staggered backwards, looking at the broken stump of a sword in her hand. She lowered her hands to her side for a moment, then raised her arms a little out again on either side of her.

"Glory to you, Pyrrha Nikos," she murmured, a weariness in her voice.

Pyrrha said nothing as she switched Miló from sword to spear, resting the tip of the spear upon her shield as she drew back to smite Cinder on the chest.

The beowolf howled as it emerged out of the darkness of the trees, red eyes burning like coals as it leapt at Pyrrha. She half thought that this was another of Emerald's illusions, but nevertheless, Pyrrha turned on instinct, driving her spear into the beowolf's chest.

Its real chest, into which she buried Miló for a few seconds before the grimm disappeared to smoke and ash. Another beowolf charged into the clearing from behind her, but Pyrrha reversed Miló to skewer that grimm in its turn.

"What the—?" Arslan shouted, but her shout was cut off as she was distracted by the beowolf that stuck its head out of the thicket to snarl into her face. Arslan hit it so hard that the bony face of the beowolf exploded into ashes, but more of them came, beowolves and ursai pouring into the clearing.

Jaune drew his nearly reforged sword and held his shield before him.

Pyrrha glared at Cinder. Was this your plan all along?

But Cinder's eyes were wide, shaking her head a little from side to side. Her lips moved, but amidst the howling and the growling of the grimm, Pyrrha could not hear the words which fell from them.

Pyrrha charged at her. Grimm or no, plan or no, cheat or no, ambush or no, Cinder's aura was still broken; Pyrrha could still end this. She cast her spear, hurling Miló through the air towards Cinder who stood still, frozen in place, making no move to evade the spear.

A beowolf leapt through the air, taking Pyrrha's spear squarely in its chest, dying as the force of Miló hurled it backwards, turning to ashes which passed over Cinder. More grimm filled the space between them, a black tide separating Pyrrha from her enemy as the alpha beowolf, twelve feet tall and covered with plates of bleach, bone armour, protruded with sharp white spikes, loped up to Cinder and bent down to snatch her up in its jaws. Cinder twitched in pain, but other than that, she yet was still as the alpha turned and began to carry her away.

"No!" Pyrrha yelled, rage and frustration mingling in her voice as she fought her way through the grimm with Akoúo̱, using the sharp edges of her shield like a discus, cutting through heads and limbs, striking down beowolves as she sought to pursue the alpha, even as the great beowolf exited the clearing.

Emerald seemed as surprised as Cinder had looked, just as frozen, but Lightning Dust grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away after the alpha beowolf.

Pyrrha recovered Miló and, with it, carved a swift and deadly swathe through every grimm that crossed her path. An ursa major barred her path, but Pyrrha hurled herself upon it, switching Miló from spear to sword in her hand. It lashed out at her with one monstrous paw, but Pyrrha turned the blow aside with Akoúo̱, then sliced off that paw with a single swift stroke. Miló switched form sword to spear again as the ursa howled in pain, and Pyrrha twirled it in her grasp, slashing at the ursa's chest, striking at every gap or chink in its armour. Bellowing in frustration, the ursa dropped down onto all fours, lunging at her with its great jaws, but Pyrrha darted nimbly aside and — switching to sword once again — cut off its head.

She did not stay to watch it die but plunged into the forest, uncaring that she could not see the alpha beowolf, uncaring that he did not know exactly where it had gone, running through the darkness and the trees in hope that she could catch up to them and then…

And then…

And then, with the little aura she had left, confront Emerald and Lightning Dust, with their intact aura, as well as who knew how many grimm?

And then plunge into an ambush in the darkness.

I will suffer worse than Cinder's fate, if I let this make me heedless.

Pyrrha came to a stop, eyes searching the darkness for any sign that she had left it too late to remember sense and walked into an ambush already.

She saw none, and no sign of her quarry either.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune called out, from somewhere behind her. "Pyrrha?"

"I'm here!" Pyrrha shouted back. "I'm here, Jaune, ahead of you."

It did not take long for Jaune and Arslan to catch up with her, preceded by the light of their torches shining into her face.

Jaune's expression was grave. "Cinder?"

"Gone," Pyrrha said. "I lost her. I … judged it best not to risk pursuing her in the dark, with Emerald and Lightning still fresh."

"Emerald and Lightning?" Arslan repeated. "Emerald and Lightning are the … Pyrrha, what in all the rivers of the underworld was that?"

"I … don't know," Pyrrha lied, though it pained her to do so. "There is … much about the grimm that remains a mystery to us."

"Including carrying people off alive?" Arslan demanded. "Has that ever happened before?"

"We're as confused as you are," Jaune assured her.

Arslan huffed. "Do you think they'll eat her?"

"We can only hope," Pyrrha muttered, although in truth, she felt she could be better than reasonably certain that they would not, more was the pity.

Jaune reached out to put a hand on Pyrrha's shoulder. "You were amazing back there," he said. "How do you feel?"

Pyrrha raised her head ever so slightly to look up at him, a smile spreading across her lips. "I won," she declared, quietly, but with pride nonetheless. "I defeated her, alone, in clean combat beneath the auspices of victory. I won, and her escape cannot take that away from me."

And the next time our paths cross she will not escape.

Author's Note

Art by Sae

Victor and Vanquished (New)

Victor and Vanquished

Professor Ozpin took the Bullhead down himself, guiding the airship over the forest towards the clearing where Pyrrha had fought the duel.

The clearing where Pyrrha was waiting for them now.

Sunset felt as though the ice that had gripped her stomach had been melted away by a sudden heat, the gnawing emptiness filled by a sumptuous feast. A smile played upon her face as she gripped the railing running along the airship ceiling.

“You were really worried about her, weren’t you?” Ruby asked.

“I’m always nervous any time I have to let any of you out of my sight,” Sunset replied.

Ruby frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I never said it was,” Sunset said. “But it’s who I am, for better or worse. Seems like once I care about someone, then I care; I can’t turn it off because it’s not convenient. I … I love not wisely, but too well.” She paused for a moment. “Besides, weren’t you nervous, a little bit?”

“A little bit,” Ruby admitted. “I … I’m glad she’s okay. And since she’s okay, that must mean she won, right?”

“You would think,” Sunset agreed. “Cinder wouldn’t let her leave alive, not Pyrrha, that … she hates Pyrrha too much for that, if she had her at her mercy … that’s why I was nervous about this. Plus, there’s the fact that Pyrrha hasn’t gone anywhere; she’s at the location of the duel. She is the mistress of the field. Which suggests…”

Which suggests that she won, and we’ll find Cinder dead once we get there.

That was … a pity. Yes, yes, it was a pity, that was what it was, that was what Sunset could think about it without feeling disloyal to Pyrrha in any way — not that she really did; she had always been rooting for Pyrrha to win.

Cinder … Cinder had chosen this path, the path of the warrior, the path of vengeance and wrath; she had chosen this, and having chosen, she had no right to complain about the outcome of it. Nor did Sunset think that she would have complained, given some of the conversations they’d had in the past.

“Cinder, the wrath that rules you is a poison, you must see that.”

“Then let me choke on it. Perhaps I am not healthy in my soul, perhaps I am not in a state of perfect ‘wellness,’ perhaps I am damaged, perhaps I am broken. Well then, let me be ill, let me be cracked, let me be a shattered mirror to hold up to this world, but I will not cease my raging until I have given back to this world its fill and more of bloodshed.”

“At what cost? At what cost to yourself?”

“At any cost! I will not move. Not one step.”

No, Cinder would not complain. She would not like to lose, would not wish to die by Pyrrha’s hands — although it would probably offend her less than to die by the hands of one less skilled in arms — but she would not beg for her life, nor moan at the injustice of her fate. Apart from anything else, she would understand how damaging that would be for her reputation.

But nevertheless, it was a pity. It was a pity that a sweet girl like Ashley had been transformed into Cinder Fall in the first place, corrupted by the cruelty of the world — and of the Kommenos family in particular — ground down, crushed in the spirit, broken. It was a pity that somebody like Cinder Fall had been created; it was a pity that someone who was witty and intelligent and ambitious could not have put those qualities to better use.

It was a pity that she had not been given the opportunity to do so.

It was a pity that her destiny had not been other than a death in the darkness in the woods.

And yet … yet, Pyrrha lived.

And Sunset would not trade that for anything.

“So … does that mean it’s all over?” Ruby asked. “Does that mean that it’s all done now?”

“Not all,” Sunset said. “Salem yet lives, forever.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “But you know what I mean.”

Sunset nodded. “I … it could be. We’ll have to see what Pyrrha says when we actually get to her.”

“Right,” Ruby agreed. “I wonder why she only sent us a text asking if they could get picked up instead of calling?”

“Maybe she felt the news she has to share would best be delivered in person?” Sunset suggested.

“I guess,” Ruby replied. After a moment, she added, “Of course, even with Cinder dead, there’s still Emerald and Lightning Dust to worry about.”

“Limbs of Cinder,” Sunset declared, dismissing them both with magisterial disdain. “Can the arm do mischief once the trunk is no more? Can a leg walk without a head to guide it? No, without Cinder, her followers are irrelevant … even the White Fang will be less dangerous without Cinder to supply ambitions for them.”

She hesitated. “Besides … I don’t think that Emerald would be interested in serving Salem in Cinder’s absence; she wouldn’t look to move on up to take Cinder’s place at the top table; she … I don’t know what she’d do, exactly, but it would probably be something of little danger to the world.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Ruby.

“Because she told me, in as many words, when we spoke to arrange the duel,” Sunset explained. “I hadn’t really had anything to do with her until that point, but when we spoke, she seemed so … normal. I couldn’t help but ask her why she was doing this.”

“And what was the answer?”

“Loyalty to Cinder,” Sunset answered.

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured. “What could Cinder have done to earn the kind of loyalty that would cause Emerald to help her try and do such terrible things?”

“You’d need to ask her that,” Sunset said.

“People should be loyal to ideals, not other people,” Ruby declared. “Wrong doesn’t become any less wrong because it’s Cinder or General Ironwood telling you to do it.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “General Ironwood?”

“I know that Rainbow trusts him, and I think that Blake must be at least starting to trust him, else she wouldn’t want to go to Atlas,” Ruby said, “but in the end, the only reason Rainbow Dash can give for why she trusts General Ironwood is … because she trusts General Ironwood.”

“Do you not trust General Ironwood?” Sunset asked.

“That’s not the point,” Ruby replied. “The point is that I wouldn’t do whatever he said just because he told me to.”

“Professor Ozpin trusts General Ironwood,” Sunset pointed out, glancing over her shoulder into the cockpit. If Professor Ozpin was taking any notice whatsoever of their conversation, you couldn’t tell by the way he was acting wholly focussed on the controls.

“Professor Ozpin wouldn’t do whatever he said either,” Ruby responded.

“That is a fair point,” Sunset allowed. “But … it’s all very well to say that you should be loyal to ideals over people, and I even understand why you’re saying it, but … that’s just because you haven’t met anyone that you consider personally worthy of your loyalty. When you do … some people just strike you, you know. They shoot you through the heart; it’s like love; no, it is love. Their wisdom, their nobility, their bearing and dignity, it … you would do … anything for them. Follow where they lead, do as they ask, and I don’t accept that as a flaw.”

She paused a moment. “The happiest days of my youth were spent loyally following Princess Celestia, and as much as it brought me here and to all this, it remains my deepest regret that I rebelled against her.”

Perhaps it ought not to have been her greatest regret any more, but … her second greatest regret had nevertheless purchased the lives of Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, Blake, and Rainbow Dash, while her greatest regret had brought nothing but unhappiness to Princess Celestia.

“Because you didn’t have the right ideals, the right principles,” Ruby argued.

“So I should have followed in the hoofprints of someone who did,” Sunset said. “All the dignity of our race is embodied in Princess Celestia; who was I to ever question her wisdom?”

“Someone with a mind of your own, and a heart of your own too,” Ruby said.

“I’m setting her down now,” Professor Ozpin called out from the cockpit. “We’re almost there.”

Indeed, Sunset could feel the airship going downwards as he spoke, all sense of forward motion ceasing, replaced by the jolt of a descent beginning.

The door on the right hand side of the Bullhead began to open before the airship had completed its descent, and in the moonlight, Sunset could see the trees growing closer beneath them, could see the clearing.

And she could see Pyrrha, Jaune, and Arslan waiting for them below.

Pyrrha was in front, with Jaune and Arslan standing slightly behind and upon either side of her; the reflection of the moonlight was bright upon her golden circlet, and the displaced air from the Bullhead’s engines blew through her hair and made her ponytail stream out and dance behind her.

As the descending airship brought them closer and closer, Sunset could see that upon Pyrrha’s face was a smile of quiet confidence.

Sunset teleported out of the airship before it had finished landing, appearing in front of Pyrrha with a crack and a flash of green light as she threw her arms around Pyrrha’s neck and enveloped her in a hug.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t think there were any words necessary.

Judging by Pyrrha’s silence as she placed her own arms around Sunset’s back, she felt much the same way.

Sunset heard the Bullhead’s engines shut off, their whine ceasing, allowing silence to settle for a moment before it was disturbed by the hooting of an owl in the trees some distance away.

Sunset heard footsteps rapidly approaching without seeing whose footsteps they were, and then she felt someone a little smaller than herself bump into her and Pyrrha, as well as another arm upon her back.

Sunset smiled, even as she released Pyrrha with one arm and gestured with her now-free hand. “Bring it in, Jaune; come on.”

She still didn’t see anything, her face buried in Pyrrha’s shoulder, but she felt Jaune’s arm around her and felt his presence — larger than Ruby’s — pressed against her left side.

“And hold it right there a second while I get the picture,” Arslan said. “There, got it. Some of your older fans might find this a bit sappy, but it’ll be the perfect way to finish things off for the kids.”

“What’s she talking about?” Ruby asked.

“Arslan filmed the fight,” Pyrrha explained, her voice soft. “I haven’t decided whether I’d like it to be released or not.”

“You’re thinking about it?” asked Ruby.

“Some things have to be seen to be believed,” Arslan said.

Nobody replied to that. Nobody did anything. They just stayed that way, their embraces interlocking, their bodies pressed against one another, for just a few moments longer.

“Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, “I am very glad to see you alive and well.”

It was a tacit signal to stop hugging, and one which they obeyed, releasing one another and wordlessly forming a line facing the headmaster. Sunset and Jaune clasped their hands behind their backs, while Pyrrha’s hands hung down by her sides.

Pyrrha took a step forwards ahead of the others. “Thank you, Professor. I have the honour to report that I was victorious.” She sounded honoured; there was no hesitation in her voice, no trembling, her voice rang out clearly through the night. “Although I confess that Cinder Fall escaped me.”

Sunset looked around. There was no body to be seen, something which she hadn’t noticed before, focussed as she had been on Pyrrha; there was a crater in the earth, where it looked as if someone had been slammed into the ground with great force, but there was no body, nor any blood.

Professor Ozpin was silent a moment, and then he sighed. Sunset didn’t like the fact that he sighed; it made her ears droop a little bit; he might have preferred it if Cinder had died, but he didn’t have to be so obvious about it in front of Pyrrha.

“I see,” he murmured. “May I ask how that happened, Miss Nikos?”

“I broke Cinder’s aura,” Pyrrha explained, “but before I could land the killing blow, the battle was interrupted by grimm. They came between me and Cinder, and one of them carried her away while I was embattled by others.”

“It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Arslan added. “I’ve never even heard of anything like it, not ever. Grimm carrying someone off like that? On the plus side, they’ve probably eaten her by now.”

If only you knew, Sunset thought. Actually, probably best that you don’t.

Still, that explained that. The only question was whether Cinder had arranged that, as a last minute means of saving herself if the battle should go against her, or whether Salem had done it in order to preserve her champion. The latter raised the question of why Salem would bother with a champion who couldn’t win on her own merits — maybe she just didn’t want to go back to the drawing board for another generation or so but preferred to work with what she had right now — but nevertheless, it was the answer that Sunset preferred.

She didn’t want to believe that Cinder had planned all along to void the duel if she didn’t like the outcome. It might sound strange, but … it was one thing to be on the wrong side of a war, it was one thing to wage war, to fight against — even to kill — those who were on the other side of that war, but to make a solemn bargain like this and then renege on it was … rather more disappointing, in some ways.

I’d like to think you had more self-respect than that.

I do think you have more self-respect than that, and too much pride to make contingency plans for your defeat, besides.

“The ways of the grimm remain fundamentally … esoteric to our eyes, Miss Altan,” Professor Ozpin said. “It may be as you say … but it may also be that, for whatever reason, Miss Fall yet lives. Disappointing as that fact may be.”

“Professor,” Sunset said sharply, as her ears dropped down into the midst of her hair, “this childish sullenness does a discredit to your years. Eat your sprouts and be grateful there is any supper at all.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

“He has no right to act like you failed,” Sunset muttered.

Professor Ozpin raised his head and let out a bark of laughter up towards the moon. “Yes. Yes, Miss Shimmer, you are quite correct, and chide me well. I admit … yes, you are correct. You have done well, Miss Nikos. You have met your enemy, alone and unaided, and you have vanquished them. That they escaped the final blow is, as you have explained, not your fault.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish that there was a body here with us, Professor, yet, nevertheless, I feel like a victor. I withstood her, I bested her, and I see no reason to believe that I could not do so again if need arose — which it may, given the circumstances.”

Her words slowed down a little, not so much in hesitation but with a sense that she was choosing her words carefully, most likely for Arslan’s benefit, to avoid saying anything that she shouldn’t have.

“If that is the calibre of opposition that the world may provide me, then it is challenging, to be sure, but far from insurmountable. Whatever fresh battles lie before us, I will go forth to meet them renewed, certain of my value as a member of Team Sapphire.”

The only one who ever doubted that was you, Sunset thought. But it’s nice to hear you’re over it regardless.

“I am delighted to hear it, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “You have done good work tonight, and I have no doubt that you will do even greater service to the world in the days to come.”

On the positive side, it only hurts when I breathe.

Cinder stalked back towards Portchester Manor in silence. In part, that was because it hurt too much to speak. Her bones ached, so badly she was certain that she must have broken a few of them; she’d be astonished if Pyrrha’s last attack hadn’t cracked at least a couple of ribs, and she’d had to shove her own shoulder back into place. Every breath felt as though she was being stabbed in the lungs, and every step produced throbbing protestations of her knees. Her arms drooped down on either side of her, and her legs were so heavy, it was as though she was dragging pallets loaded with cinder blocks in her wake.

None of which would have mattered so much if she had been returning victorious. After all, she had been prepared for a hard fight; she did not … yes, very well, she had underestimated Pyrrha Nikos, her skill, her finesse, but she had not underestimated her so much that she had expected an easy victory, without pain or cost or consequence. She had expected a hard fight, one which would try her and leave her spent, but if she had won, if she had been returning now with Pyrrha’s blood upon her sword, then it would not have mattered.

Exultation would have served as a substitute for energy. The thrill of triumph would have served as an anaesthetic against the pain.

But she was not returning victorious. She was returning defeated, having lost the obsidian glass of Midnight; she would have to go back and get it some other time, provided that Pyrrha had left it for her and not taken it away as a trophy of her victory.

No, she would not do that. In part because she probably doesn’t realise that it’s special glass, but also because it simply wouldn’t occur to her to do so. She doesn’t need a trophy to remember her victory; the fact that she won will be enough.

But for now, Cinder was disarmed and defeated, and the shame of that defeat was compounding the pain of her physical injuries tenfold.

Pyrrha had beaten her. The Champion of Mistral, the Evenstar of Mistral, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, Pyrrha had this night proven herself beyond doubt to be all those things, and Cinder … Cinder was nothing. A loser. Dust beneath Pyrrha’s chariot wheels.

Cinder had dreamt of this moment, but her dream had abandoned her. Destiny had betrayed her. Pyrrha, it seemed, was favoured of fortune, not her.

Cinder’s great ambition, the culmination of her hopes, and she had been unable to realise it. Her reach, it seemed, had exceeded her grasp.

That in itself was not unbecoming; a hero should outreach themselves and pay the price, but it galled Cinder nevertheless that her outreach should come against Pyrrha, when she had always desired that Pyrrha in particular should fall before her, inspiring the avenger who would arise from the dead bones of the Princess Without a Crown and harry Cinder to her own end.

Instead…

How? Why? Is she simply born better than I am because she is gently born of royal blood and scion to an ancient line while I am but a gentleman’s daughter?

Is it because she was trained by the great Chiron himself while I was self-tutored in the darkness of the night?

She didn’t know what the answer was. She wasn’t sure it mattered. What mattered was that she had lost.

I did much better against her under Mountain Glenn.

Of course, under Mountain Glenn, she had used the environment to her advantage, used their very surroundings as a weapon against Pyrrha. So perhaps she could beat her, when the ground favoured her — but not in the open, where there was no terrain to take advantage.

Cinder found that somewhat cold comfort. After all, defeating Pyrrha because she had chosen a situation that favoured her, while it might be sound strategy, wouldn’t prove very much in the eyes of the world.

Any more than overpowering Pyrrha with a force to which she had no response would. Certainly, it demonstrated no innate superiority, which was what Cinder wanted.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she did not possess it.

I will have to train harder for the next round. The third time will pay for all; it must.

Everyone moved in silence. Since the grimm had released them, and they had begun their trek back to the old house that served as their base, no one had said a word. Not Cinder, not Emerald, and certainly not Lightning Dust.

Speaking of Lightning Dust, she was keeping her distance. While Emerald stayed close, her eyes flickering Cinder’s way as if she was expecting Cinder to be unable to walk by herself at any moment and need support — there was no chance of that; Cinder would rather die than accept help from anyone, even from Emerald; what remained of her somewhat tattered pride would not allow it — Lightning held off, walking at some remove from the other two as though she were the cool girl trying to avoid association with the wrong crowd at school.

Or because she was afraid that Cinder would rip her spine out and strangle her with it if she got too close.

Certainly, Cinder would have liked to have done that; she had no doubt, no doubts at all, about who had orchestrated her unwanted rescue — or at least who had been involved in this. Emerald, she discounted; the girl was too loyal to her, she would never do such a thing, but Lightning? Well, Lightning was too stupid to have arranged it by herself, but she had been involved.

Her and Tempest Shadow.

Unfortunately, Cinder’s aura was coming back but slowly, she wasn’t strong enough to kill Lightning Dust at the moment, even if she’d wanted to.

Even more unfortunately, even once her strength returned, Cinder found herself facing the possibility that she would not be able to do as she wished.

Because, of course, Lightning and Tempest could not have arranged all of this by themselves; they could not have commanded the grimm to swoop in at that precise moment and carry her off, throwing themselves between Cinder and Pyrrha, selling their lives to buy her time to escape. No, there was only one person who could have orchestrated that.

They had gone to Salem. They had told her about the duel, and she had sent her grimm to ensure that Cinder did not die.

What made matters worse, to Cinder’s mind, was her feeling that Salem would have allowed the duel to go ahead if Cinder had been winning. She could hardly have objected to Pyrrha’s death after all, which meant that she was aware that it was Cinder who had stood upon the verge of death.

And she had intervened to save her life because … Cinder could guess the ‘because,’ and it did not flatter her.

It was not out of affection that Salem had saved her.

Yet she had been saved, and very soon, she would have to explain herself.

And so, as she approached the house, Cinder straightened her back and did her best to banish all signs of pain and weariness from her. She could not hide the mess that combat had made of her hair, nor could she banish all the stains of dirt from off her dress — her poor dress; it had been so ill-used tonight — but she could at least act as though none of this was weighing upon her.

For all the good that the pretence might do.

And so, head held higher than it deserved to be, she strode through the doors and into the dissipated hallway of Portchester Manor.

“Hey guys!” Sonata called out cheerily, welcoming them with a smile which, in the circumstances, seemed revoltingly, offensively bright. “I made fruit punch for when you got back! Help yourselves!”

Tempest Shadow emerged from out of the side room that was Sonata’s haunt. There was a smirk upon her face which taunted Cinder. She folded her arms. “So, how did it go?”

The beowolf inside of Cinder was roaring louder than it had been even during that long walk back when she had wanted to rip out Lightning’s throat with her teeth. Cinder’s hands balled up into fists as she fought to keep her voice calm. “Where is my mistress?”

“Our mistress is waiting for you in the library,” Tempest said.

In the library. In my place. That was deliberate, Cinder was sure; it was not a secret where she had been spending the most time. Salem did not wish to give her a sanctum to retire to when she was done.

“I see,” Cinder murmured. “Then I suppose I had best not keep her waiting.”

“No,” Tempest said. “Best not.”

One day, I will peel the skin off your face, Cinder thought. See how you smirk at me then.

For now, though, she made her way towards the library, ignoring Tempest as she ignored Sonata and her ludicrous offer of the fruit punch — let Tempest indulge herself if she wished; she and Lightning had got what they wanted out of tonight.

Let Emerald, if she wanted anything; she had earned it, despite the otherwise miserable results of the night.

Unfortunately, Tempest followed her, falling in behind her as she walked. Cinder said nothing; if she questioned it, it would have the potential to make her look weaker than she already seemed, and at present, she lacked the strength to physically force the issue.

She would have to allow Salem to dismiss Tempest on her behalf.

But for now, she walked just behind Cinder, just enough to avoid too great impertinence, as they reached the library, where the door was open.

There was a Seer within, a floating glass ball, like the kind that phoney fortune tellers used to see the future at fairs and carnivals, only this ball appeared to be filled with black ink, a deep darkness that could not be penetrated by the eye. It floated about seven feet off the ground, and this particular crystal ball not only possessed white bony armoured plates at certain points upon it, but was ringed at the base by two rows of razor sharp fangs, moving slightly in and out as the Seer breathed. Tentacles, a dozen of them, hung down from the base towards the floor, each of them tipped with a sharp white point.

As Cinder walked into the library, the inky blackness within the Seer was lit up, a golden light seeming to bloom within.

And then, into view, emerged the deathly pale visage of Salem.

Cinder bowed, lowering her eyes to the wooden floor. “My mistress,” she murmured.

“The conquering hero returns,” Salem sneered. “Tell me, Cinder, what was the purpose of tonight’s … misadventure?”

“Mistress, I think that this matter would be best discussed … privately,” Cinder said.

“Really? I think that Tempest should remain,” Salem replied. “And so she shall. Tempest, close the door.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Tempest said.

Cinder heard the sound of the door shutting.

“Now, Cinder,” Salem said, “as you were saying?”

Cinder hesitated for a moment.

One of the seer’s tentacles, pink and flesh, reached out to her, the bony tip reaching up her chin and tilting it upwards until she was looking into Salem’s face.

“As you were saying,” Salem said.

Cinder could not tear her eyes away. “Pyrrha Nikos challenged me to a duel,” she said, swallowing, for her throat had become very dry.

“And you were compelled to accept because…”

“Because she would have thought me a coward if I had not,” Cinder declared. “As would the world which had heard her challenge me.” She paused and allowed a touch of resentment to enter her voice. “They will think me a coward now.”

Pain shot through her; it started in the small of her back, a stabbing pain as if someone had suddenly stuck a knife in her — which they had, but it hadn’t hurt this much until now — and then spreading outwards, down and up her spine, making her spasm, her arms and legs failing her. Cinder groaned and gasped in pain as she fell onto her side with a thud.

“Do you think I care about your reputation?” Salem demanded, her voice cold. “Do you think I care about the opinion in which you are held by our enemies, still less by the common wretches of Vale or Mistral?” She paused a moment. “So … Pyrrha called, and you answered, is that the short of it?”

Cinder grunted as she pushed herself up off the floor and back up onto her knees. “Yes, Mistress.”

“She called, and you answered,” Salem said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You did not think to set a trap for her and her friends?” Salem asked. “To lure Ozpin’s latest pawns to their deaths under cover of this archaic ritual?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why not?” Salem demanded.

Cinder hesitated.

The Seer’s tentacle began to coil around Cinder’s throat.

“Why not?” Salem asked again, in a tone which suggested she did not wish to ask a third time.

“It would have been … dishonourable,” Cinder said.

Salem laughed coldly. “What is honour to someone like you?” she demanded. “What is honour, after what you have done?”

Cinder frowned. “I have done immoral things in plenty, Mistress, but I have done nothing dishonourable.” According to certain definitions of honour, in any case.

The famous Pyrrha would have agreed with me, I’m sure. And if she would not, then cunning Penelope certainly would have.

“A distinction likely to be lost upon Ozpin and his servants, whose opinion you are so anxious to maintain,” Salem suggested snidely. “Tell me, Cinder, having agreed to this ridiculous duel, how was it that you were defeated? Your power—”

“I will not use it against Pyrrha,” Cinder said. “Not when she has no answer to it.”

“Let me guess,” Salem said. “That would be dishonourable as well.”

“It would prove nothing,” Cinder replied. “I wish to prove my superiority in arms.”

“A superiority it seems you do not possess, on the basis of tonight’s display,” Salem reminded her. “You fought to the death?”

“That was my intent, Mistress.”

“You risked not only your own life, but also that which you carry in you, the power you will not use. If you had fallen, that power would have been lost.”

“To fall was not my intent.”

“And yet you did not take great pains not to fall,” Salem said. “You risked everything, you risked the culmination of my plans, and for what?”

“Pyrrha—”

“Pyrrha Nikos is nothing!” Salem snapped.

The pain returned to Cinder, spreading from her back once again, even more painful this time, not only dropping her to the floor as her legs gave way beneath her, but making her spasm, legs kicking, arms jerking, body twitching as a thousand thousand needles stabbed outwards from inside her skin, as if a wasp’s nest had been laid inside of her and now all the wasps were fighting frantically to get out, to burst their way free, though it tore Cinder’s body to pieces in the process. The seer’s tentacle tightened its grip around her throat, squeezing it tighter than her choker did, tighter than Pyrrha had done during the battle, tighter than…

“Oh, oh, stop, please, stop!”

“Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

As bad as the pain were, the memories that filled her mind, memories that she didn’t want to remember, memories of that house, memories of Phoebe, memories of pain and loss and hurt.

Tears welled up in Cinder’s eyes. Whimpering sounds of pain escaped her.

“Do you think I care if Pyrrha Nikos lives or dies?” Salem demanded. “She is nothing to me. Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash … insects crawling upon the face of Remnant. Not even silver-eyed Ruby has the power to harm me; why should I fear those who do not even possess the slightest glimpse of magic? To kill her, to kill one single enemy, you risked … everything? You risked what I gave to you?”

Cinder did not reply. The pain had faded somewhat, but not completely. She lay upon the ground, not twitching, but still wracked with pain. She lay on the floor looking up, while Salem looked down upon her. She seemed so very high and far away.

“It’s important not to lose sight of what drives us,” Salem said. “Glory. Renown. Revenge. But the moment you put your desires above my own, they will be lost to you. And so will everything else. You are the living key, Cinder; that gives you value to me, even if your performance thus far has been … less than satisfactory. I require you alive for my plans to move forward; therefore, you do not have my permission to die. Not at this time. And yet, these night’s events have shown that, as much as it pains me to admit this, I cannot rely on you. So from now on, you will work with Tempest Shadow, who brought me the news of your … actions, and together you will bring down Beacon Academy and retrieve the relic that Ozpin has hidden within. And when you have brought me a golden crown, then — and only then — will you have my permission to die.

“In whatever manner you see fit.”

“So,” Arslan said as she leapt down from out of the Bullhead and onto the landing bay, “what do you guys have planned right now?”

Sunset looked at her. “What do you mean ‘what do we have planned?’ It’s past one in the morning.”

Arslan shrugged. “I thought you might want to celebrate Pyrrha’s victory.”

“Speaking for myself, I might be in the mood to celebrate at some point,” Pyrrha allowed, “but at the moment, all I want is to snatch a few hours sleep, or more than a few; I may allow myself the indulgence of a late morning.” She stifled a yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. “Victory is always welcome, but against a skilled opponent it can be rather tiring.”

“Lightweights,” Arslan said with good-natured scorn.

“You may do as you please, of course, Miss Atlan,” Professor Ozpin said as he dismounted from the airship, “but on behalf of the faculty, I must ask that you don’t disturb the other students who are trying to sleep.”

“Of course, Professor,” Arslan said softly.

“Miss Nikos, everyone, I bid you a pleasant goodnight,” Professor Ozpin said. “We may speak of what transpired in the forest some more, but for now, I will leave you to a well-deserved rest.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head. “Goodnight.”

Professor Ozpin nodded to her, and there was a smile upon his face that Pyrrha might not have expected, considering his earlier disappointment at her failure to finish the fight and kill Cinder.

She could understand his disappointment. It did not dampen her spirits overly, it did not make her feel like a failure, it did not take away the fact that she had won the fight and that she felt like the victor, but nevertheless, it was somewhat disappointing. It meant the struggle would go on, the fact that Pyrrha now felt much more comfortable in that struggle.

And so she had understood his disappointment and felt that Sunset had been overstepping to rebuke the headmaster for it, and yet, it seemed that that rebuke had taken hold, for now, he smiled at her.

Pyrrha had to admit, she preferred the idea that he was pleased with what she had accomplished.

In any event, he turned away and walked away briskly, his cane tapping lightly upon the path that led away from the docking pads and back to Beacon. They would have to go that way themselves, but they all hung back a moment, letting the headmaster get a head start on them.

None of them wished to burden him with their continual company, nor — with all due respect — did any of them particularly wish his.

“P-money,” Arslan said, “before your head hits the pillow, can I have a word with you? In private?”

“Yes, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Excuse me, everyone; I’ll catch up.”

“We’ll wait in the courtyard,” Jaune said.

“I’m sure I’ll catch up before then, but thank you,” Pyrrha said.

They left her, following in Professor Ozpin’s footsteps down the path from docking pad to school, leaving Pyrrha alone with Arslan and the silent, still, unmoving Bullhead on the dock.

“What is it?” Pyrrha asked. “If it’s about the video, I haven’t—”

“No, I don’t expect you to decide that now; sleep on it and then let me know,” Arslan said quickly. “No, this is about … well, it’s about a couple of things, actually, starting with 'did I just see your semblance in that fight?'”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. The correct answer, of course, was yes, she had used Polarity more than once in the course of that battle; in a fight to the death, and a fight to the death against an opponent like Cinder what was more, there was little point and less sense in holding back, especially since Cinder’s glass weapons meant that Pyrrha’s usual subtle use of her semblance was impossible, and only unsubtle uses would avail her aught.

Yet she did not say that immediately because, well, because she had always kept it a secret. People didn’t know what her semblance was, especially not potential competitors; it was a secret. A secret weapon, one might say.

But Arslan wasn’t just a potential competitor, was she? Not now. When someone was willing to come and support you in a fight to the death, a little honesty was probably the least they were owed in return.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, you did. My semblance is Polarity.”

“Magnetism.”

“Possibly,” Pyrrha said. “Although I can move metals, like aluminium, that are not magnetic.”

Arslan nodded. “So … I’ve seen you throwing your shield around like a disc and then it comes back; I thought that it was just really well-designed, but you were bringing it back with your semblance?”

“Not always; my shield is designed in such a way as to act like a discus and return,” Pyrrha replied, “but some of the manoeuvres I’ve performed with it have required a touch of my semblance, yes.”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “So … you’ve had this for a while now, and you’ve just been keeping it to yourself? Nobody knows about it?”

“Some people are aware,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Anyone who's gone up against you in the tournament circuit?”

“No,” Pyrrha allowed. “None of them, until now.”

“Why not?” Arslan asked. “Why not just … throw Phoebe out the ring with your semblance when the fight starts?”

“And prove what by it?” Pyrrha asked. “That I have been fortunate in my semblance? Defeating my opponents by skill demonstrates, well, skill. I didn’t train for years just to abuse my semblance all the way to easy victories; not to mention, if I took that approach, what would I do against an opponent like you?”

“When you put it like that, I wish you did rely on your semblance; I might be in with a chance,” Arslan muttered. “But you do use it?”

“Discreetly,” Pyrrha said. “Occasionally. To guide my shield or … turn aside someone’s weapon.”

“Suddenly, I’m very glad I use my fists,” Arslan said, with a touch of wry amusement entering her voice.

“It isn’t often,” Pyrrha insisted. “Usually, I can parry or turn the stroke aside with my shield.”

“After tonight, I can believe that,” Arslan said. “Your semblance doesn’t work on glass, does it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Hence, amongst other reasons, the more obvious use of my semblance. That, and the fact that I might not have won without it. In the arena, I can afford to hold my semblance back, not because I’m so much better than everyone else, but because, ultimately, there is nothing at stake beyond glories that ultimately matter very little. But down there, if I had held back, she would have killed me.”

“But your semblance was on the special effects; the swordplay was all you,” Arslan said.

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, I suppose you could put it that way.” She paused for a moment. “Are you … going to tell everyone about it?”

“Your semblance?” Arslan asked. She snorted. “Why would I do that? If nobody else knows except me, then they’re still at a disadvantage, right? Bigger chance of you and me meeting up in the Vytal Festival.” She chuckled. “Besides, it’s your secret, right?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it is.”

“Then it’s safe with me,” Arslan said.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said quietly. “You are…” She trailed off.

“I am what?”

“Would you be offended if I called you my friend?” Pyrrha asked.

“Just so long as you remember that while we might be friends outside the ring, we’re rivals inside of it,” Arslan declared. “I don’t want you taking it easy on me.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Still, I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” Arslan said. “No matter how you use it, that’s a pretty cool semblance you have. My semblance is rubbish.”

“You’ve found your semblance?” Pyrrha asked. “But you never—”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose.

“Point taken,” Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan grinned. “Unlike you, I’m not hiding it for advantage,” she said. “I’m hiding it because … well, because it’s kind of embarrassing. But you did tell me your semblance eventually, and you didn’t try and lie about it or anything like that, so … my semblance is called Lioness, which is really a lot cooler than it deserves; I…”

She hesitated, glancing away from Pyrrha. “I can … breathe on people, and it makes them brave. Or confident, maybe, it … I unlocked it when I was a kid; my mom was going for a job interview, and she was a nervous wreck about it, and I said … I can’t remember what I said, some kiddy thing, and I gave her a kiss, and … I must have really wanted to make her feel better because she did. She stopped shaking, marched out, aced the interview, and got the job.”

“When you put it like that, your semblance sounds rather wonderful,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although how do you know that it’s breathing and not kissing?”

“Experimentation at home,” Arslan replied. “And, sure, that’s a nice enough story, but come on? I breathe on people? Who does that?”

“And you give them courage to face adversity,” Pyrrha countered. “Not only is that a gift to treasure in itself, but think of what it says about your soul that that is the reflection of it.”

“You don’t buy into all that ‘our semblances reflect our personalities’ do you? That’s just superstition,” Arslan said. “Did you vet Jaune to make sure that he had the right semblance to be compatible with yours?”

“Obviously, some people take the idea too far—”

“And if semblances say something about us, then what does the ability to move metal say about you?” Arslan challenged.

“I’ve sometimes thought that my ability to move metal might be symbolic of my skill in combat,” Pyrrha suggested. “After all, what is battle but a clash of metal against metal, and what is skill in combat but moving metal?”

Arslan’s eyes narrowed. “That … well, I don’t believe it, and I don’t believe my semblance says anything about me, and I wish that I had one I could get more use out of.”

“And I think you should not be so quick to dismiss Lioness,” Pyrrha replied. “You are still young; there may come a time — perhaps in your huntress career after Haven — when the ability to instil courage in those around you will be worth more than any other skill you could possibly have in that moment.”

“Maybe,” Arslan grunted, sounding profoundly unconvinced. “Anyway, that wasn’t the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“What’s going on, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha blinked. “Could you be a little more specific?”

Arslan folded her arms. “I’m not an idiot. I know that you know more than you’re letting on. I know that any reasonable person would assume that Cinder is dead, but you and your friends and Professor Ozpin are all acting like it’s better than even odds that she’s still alive somehow. I know that you didn’t do this just to get Phoebe off your back, I know that you and your team went on a mission to that Mountain Glenn place even though everything I’ve heard says that is not a place to send students, and while we’re on the subject, what was that big speech to Professor Ozpin? Since when did you start doubting yourself?”

“Since I came back from Mountain Glenn, at the very least,” Pyrrha murmured.

She cursed herself internally. She should never have involved Arslan in this, and having involved her, she should have been more careful with her words. She should have realised the implications of what she was saying. Had she taken Arslan for stupid? No, she didn’t think she had; she just … she thought she had been a better liar than she had been.

“You … you are right,” she said. “There is more going on than you know. But I’m afraid … I cannot enlighten your ignorance.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is not my secret to reveal,” Pyrrha replied. “It has been revealed to me, and to my teammates, but I am not at liberty to share that information any further.”

“On pain of—”

“Not on pain of anything,” Pyrrha said, “but it would break the trust of they who shared this with me.”

“Professor Ozpin.”

“I can’t say,” Pyrrha lied.

Arslan rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Pyrrha assured her quickly. “It’s just…”

“You can’t share a secret that isn’t yours,” Arslan said. “I suppose I can understand that.” She scratched the back of her head. “But this … that’s what this was about, isn’t it? This secret.”

“It … is connected,” Pyrrha allowed.

“And you know something that tells you Cinder is alive?”

“Most likely,” Pyrrha agreed. “Although I can’t tell you why or how, for obvious reasons.”

Arslan was silent for a moment. “Is it dangerous, this secret you’re keeping?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said at once. “That’s why I fought her, to prove to myself that I could face that danger and vanquish it.”

“Well, you did that, at least,” Arslan said quietly. She sighed. “Okay, if you can’t tell me, that’s fine; we’re not so close I need to know all your secrets, especially if they’re not even yours in the first place, but … be careful, okay? Take care of yourself. And that’s not me talking as your rival in the ring, or even as your friend outside the arena, but me speaking as a Mistralian, reminding you that the whole city would take it hard if anything happened to you. So … take care of yourself? Okay, don’t go in so deep you drown.”

“I will not,” Pyrrha promised. “For tonight, I have reminded myself that I know how to swim.”

Sunset's scroll went just as she — along with Jaune and Ruby — was passing between two of the great columns that formed a circle around the courtyard.

"Who'd be calling at this time of night?" Jaune asked.

"Time of the morning, technically, but I don't know," Sunset muttered as she fished the scroll out of her pocket so she could find out. She opened her scroll to see the number — not a name — being displayed. A frown besmirched her features. "I have to take this. When Pyrrha gets back, go on ahead without me, and I'll see you all at the dorm room; this shouldn't take long, but I'll try not to disturb you if you've already gone to bed."

"Who is it?" Ruby asked. "Why do you have to answer them?"

"Because it's Cinder," Sunset said. "Or Emerald, maybe, I suppose; it's Cinder's number, anyway."

"So … why do you have to answer them?" Ruby repeated.

Sunset snorted. "Don't you want to find out whose idea it was to get the grimm to come and carry Cinder off before Pyrrha could finish her off?" she asked. "Or am I the only one who wants to give Cinder the chance to explain herself?"

"Probably, yeah," Jaune said. "Does it really matter whose idea it was? It doesn't change what happened."

"No," Sunset agreed. "But if Cinder went to the clearing intending to chicken out if the battle went against her, then … she would be a lot more cowardly than I thought she was."

"I guess … it didn't seem as though…" Jaune murmured.

"What?" Sunset asked. "Did something happen?"

Jaune shrugged. "I don't know if it means anything, but before the grimm appeared, Cinder seemed … almost okay with it, or maybe not okay, but … she was just standing there, waiting for Pyrrha to deal the final blow. Or at least, that's what it looked like before the grimm showed up."

The scroll was still buzzing insistently in Sunset's hand.

"I suppose I'll find out, won't I?" Sunset asked. "Remember, don't hang around for me," she reminded them as she turned away, walking around the circle of towering columns, putting some distance between herself and the others before she answered her scroll.

"Hello, Sunset," Cinder said with a sigh in her voice.

"Hey," Sunset said, before an audible yawn escaped her.

"Aww, are you tired?"

"Aww, do you want me to hang up on you?"

"Forgive me," Cinder said. "That was … I am … forgive me. Were you up waiting for Pyrrha?"

"Of course," Sunset replied. "Did you expect me to go to bed?"

"I would have been very disappointed in you if you had," Cinder said. "You wouldn't at all be the Sunset Shimmer that I know if the prospect of a friend's death didn't render you incapable of sleep. And since you were up all night, I suppose it is very natural to be tired."

"You sound a little tired yourself," Sunset pointed out.

"I am … weary," Cinder said. "Pyrrha … hits hard."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured wordlessly.

There was a moment of silence from Cinder. "How is she?"

"'How is she'?" Sunset demanded. "You were just trying to kill each other, and now you want to know how she's doing?"

"If I am going to be defeated in a fight, then I want the person who defeated me to understand what a triumph that is and properly revel in it," Cinder declared. "I would hate to think that my downfall was not being properly appreciated because it had been undercut by the manner in which the contest ended."

"Pyrrha doesn't revel," Sunset informed her, "but she certainly appreciates what she did tonight."

"Good," Cinder murmured. "That is … good."

"Not the outcome you were hoping for, was it?"

"No," Cinder admitted. "But, at the same time…"

"What?" Sunset asked.

"If I had killed her," Cinder said, "you wouldn't be taking my call, would you?"

"No," Sunset murmured. "No, I wouldn't."

Cinder sighed again. "I should have been a gladiator," she declared. "I could have indulged my fantasies in a world utterly without consequence; it would have suited my temperament."

"I'm not sure you understand your own temperament if you believe that," Sunset said.

Cinder laughed softly. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you have a point, my … my desire for revenge would hardly have been sated in such an environment, but all the same … did Pyrrha take you to the Cthoneum when you were in Mistral?"

"No," Sunset said, "I've never heard of the place."

"Oh, you missed out," Cinder insisted. "You must make her take you next time you are in the city. And yet, at the same time, I am not surprised she didn't show you; it is a dark place in many ways. It's underground, dug into the mountain itself, beneath the slopes of the city."

"That would account for it being dark."

Cinder snorted. "Yes, obviously, but … it's an arena. An underground arena, fashioned not only for entertainment of the masses but also for the amusement of Erechthonius, God of the Underworld, to whom the arena is dedicated and to whom there is a temple adjoining the fighting pit itself. While the noble warriors, the scions of the great houses, the Pyrrhas of their day fought in the Colosseum under the light of the sun, slaves kept and trained for the purpose fought in the Chtoneum."

"They fought to the death, didn't they?" Sunset asked.

"Not always," Cinder replied. "A well-trained gladiator was too expensive to be put to death upon a whim, but yes, it was not so rare below as it was above. Even now, when the deaths have ceased, the two combatants enter through the gates of sawn horn; the victor leaves through a gate of ivory."

"They both enter through gates of false dreams," Sunset said, as this stirred a memory of a story she had come across while reading about Mistralian myth and legend. "Through which the loser must depart again; the victor may leave through a gate of true dreams, such as Pirithous used to return to the living world when he rescued Theseus from the underworld."

"Precisely," Cinder agreed. "To step into the Chtoneum is to die; to live, to be born again, one must conquer." She paused a moment. "But at the same time, those warriors of old … they would step into the domain of death and fight, they might even kill one another if the need arose, but when the need did not arise, when there was no battle, they were … friends. None of it mattered, you see; it was all just… a game, a fantasy. Strutting about with swords playing hero."

"This isn't a game," Sunset said.

"No, it is not; more's the pity," Cinder replied. "I hate Atlas, I hate Mistral, I hate Phoebe, I hate … there is so much about this world that I would see lit on fire and burned to ashes, but at the same time … at the same time, I wish that none of this would matter and that you and I and Pyrrha—"

"'Pyrrha'?"

"Her nearly killing me has revised my opinion of her upwards somewhat," Cinder said. "Would you tell her that I didn't intend for this to happen? I did not set out to void the duel and dishonour myself, I did not intentionally void the duel, I … I was prepared to let her take my life. I'm not a coward."

Sunset was silent a moment. "So what happened?"

"Salem is not prepared to see me die just yet," Cinder said. "As I told you, a well-trained gladiator is too expensive to be lost upon a whim."

Sunset hesitated. "Slavery in the days of old would have ill-suited you," she said. "You could not have borne it."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Cinder replied. "Will you tell Pyrrha that, for me, Sunset? I don't want her to think that I was afraid. I don't want her to think that I met her with craven or dishonest intentions. I went to that clearing intending to see that duel through to the finish, for better or worse."

Sunset breathed in and out. "I … I will tell her. Though I do not guarantee that she'll care."

Cinder laughed. "She doesn't have to care, so long as she knows. I do not demand that she think well of me, only that she not think ill based on misapprehensions. Tell her … tell her that she is … tell her, of all the warriors loved by the gods, she is the worthiest of their affections. She is Pyrrha Nikos of far fame, and of far fame, she is well-merited."

"Because she defeated you?"

"Naturally," Cinder said. "I could not be defeated by someone who was not of rare, exalted skill and ability, after all."

"I'm shaking my head right now, just so you know."

"No, you're not."

Now, Sunset shook her head. "I will tell her that, too."

"Thank you," Cinder said. "I owe you an apology, Sunset. It wasn't my intent to cause you heartache; I … I wanted to show you that you and I were … but I think, the very fact that this has caused you heartache shows that we aren't the same, are we?"

"No," Sunset murmured. "Not in this, at least."

"If to love is a fault, then gods help the wicked," Cinder declared. "And for my part, I would rather my mother been so foul that she had stayed home to care for me rather than giving up her life for the greater good and that grand old Atlesian flag, but … if I had known that it would hurt you so, I would have pressed the detonator myself."

"And what of those who died?" Sunset asked. "This is not a game, Cinder, though part of you might wish it were."

Cinder was silent a moment. "My apology lies before you; do with it as you will."

"Cinder," Sunset said, "this can all end, now, at any time; the future … is in your choosing."

Cinder did not reply to that, saying rather, "Give my regards to Pyrrha, Sunset, and tell her that I will train diligently before our next meeting. Goodbye."

"Cinder, wait—" Sunset said, but too late; Cinder had already hung up on her.

Sunset closed her eyes, letting her hands — her right hand still holding her scroll — fall to her sides.

It will go on then. It will go on to … whatever end.

To whatever end Cinder desires, or Salem?

Are you really content to be a slave to her?

A part of me, a large part, wishes that this could all be just a game as well.

A Discovery of Maidens (New)

A Discovery of Maidens

Rainbow Dash got out her scroll.

We're ready, she texted.

There was a pause, lasting a few seconds, in which not very much happened, before the scrolls of Twilight, Blake, Penny, and Rainbow herself — everybody who was gathered in the RSPT dorm room in Atlas — began to buzz.

One by one, they answered, and one by one, they were pulled into a group chat with the members of Team SAPR.

"Hey, everyone!" Penny cried cheerily. "Pyrrha, Jaune, how was your trip?"

“Never mind the trip,” said Rainbow. “How was your fight?”

Pyrrha raised her chin proudly. “Although Cinder yet lives, nevertheless, I defeated her, and only the intervention of Salem through the grimm allowed … I’m not sure 'allowed' is the right word; apparently, she did not particularly wish to be saved.”

“So she says,” Ruby pointed out.

“You don’t believe her?” asked Sunset.

“Why should we?” Ruby replied.

“What reason does she have to lie about it?” Sunset asked. “If she didn’t care about the duel and set up an escape hatch, she wouldn’t care what Pyrrha thought about the way the duel ended, right?”

“Cinder spoke to you?” Blake inquired.

“She called to apologise about Salem interrupting the duel,” said Sunset.

“If that’s what happened,” Ruby said.

“Regardless of whether or not Cinder was prepared to accept death or not, the fact of the matter is that she is still alive,” Pyrrha said, “but the other fact of the matter is that she was at my mercy, and that, while not the outcome I most desired, is nevertheless an outcome I will accept, and gladly. I feel restored by this, if that makes sense.”

Blake nodded. “It does. Sometimes, we just need to be reminded — to be able to remind ourselves — that we can achieve something.”

“I bet you were so cool, Pyrrha,” Penny declared. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“Maybe you can,” Jaune said. “Arslan Altan has the whole thing on video.”

“Really?” Penny gasped.

“I still haven’t decided whether I want to release some or all the footage, to prove that the fight actually took place,” Pyrrha said. “If I do not, there will be those I’m sure who call me a liar, but if I do … I would have to have Arslan edit around the use of my semblance, for a start.”

“I think you should do it,” Blake said. “Nobody died, so there’s nothing traumatic in there, and as you say, there will be people who claim that the fight didn’t happen; some things have to be seen to be believed, and considering that defending your reputation was a reason why you did this, I think that you should give people as much reason to believe you as possible.”

“Whatever you decide to do, I’d love to see that video,” Penny added.

Pyrrha chuckled. “All right, Penny; I’ll speak to Arslan about her sending it to you; Blake, thank you; I’ll consider your advice very carefully.”

“Congratulations on your victory,” Twilight said.

“Thank you, Twilight.”

“Mhm,” Rainbow muttered.

On the other end of the line, Jaune and Pyrrha were visible sitting together; Sunset and Ruby each occupied her own square on the screen — Rainbow fiddled with the settings in order to eliminate the views of Twilight, Blake, and Penny, who she could, after all, see perfectly well right in front of her — but Pyrrha and Jaune were not only sat together but appeared to be using one scroll between the two of them. From what Rainbow could see of their arms, they were both holding onto it, which was … just incredibly sappy in all the best and worst ways.

Given what Pyrrha had been up to, Rainbow couldn’t help but find it a little … insincere. Okay, maybe not 'insincere' exactly, since she believed that Pyrrha really did love him, but … that stunt with Cinder had been stupid, reckless — no, the fact that it had come off didn’t change that fact — and just, what would have happened to Jaune if she’d died? Had she thought about that?

Caring about someone didn’t just mean sitting side by side or going to visit his folks; it meant thinking about the people who cared about you before you took chances. It meant making sure you came home, for the sake of the people who were waiting for you there.

What Pyrrha had done was … Rainbow was disappointed that she’d done it, and to be honest, she was disappointed in Sunset as well for letting it happen.

She wasn’t in love with the way that Blake had thought it was a good idea either.

"As for our trip,” Pyrrha went on, a bright smile blossoming upon her face, “it was wonderful, Penny; thank you for asking.”

"Yeah, it was pretty great by the end," Jaune agreed.

"Pyrrha got on the family photo," Sunset added, sotto voce, grinning out of one corner of her mouth.

"Nice," Twilight said. "You must have really made a good impression."

"Is this a big deal?" asked Penny.

"It means they're married already," Sunset said.

"Sunset!" Pyrrha cried reproachfully. "It means that … it means that Jaune's family accepted me as Jaune's girlfriend and that they approve of his choosing me. It's a great honour."

"By the time we were done," Jaune said, "my family approved of a whole lot of things that they hadn't before. It was … I'm glad I went home, and I'm really glad that Pyrrha came with me."

"That sounds excellent; I'm so happy for you!" Penny cried. "I recently improved relations with both my fathers as well."

"Both your fathers?" Ruby asked.

Penny nodded. "I was created by two brothers, both brilliant scientists; one is my father, and the other is my dad."

"It's a good job you're a robot, or that would be very uncomfortable to hear," Sunset muttered. "But in the past, you've only talked about one father."

Penny hesitated for a moment. She was sitting on one of the bottom bunks, her back hunched slightly; Twilight was sat in a chair by the desks against the wall, while Blake and Rainbow Dash were both standing, both leaning against the walls, with Blake stood by the door and Rainbow by the window.

"My Dad … he had a falling out with my Father," she explained, her voice softening, becoming quieter. "Dad didn't want me to become a huntress or be used by the military; he wanted me to be able to make my own decisions. So my Father threw him out and made it impossible for him to see me."

"I'm so sorry, Penny," Ruby murmured. "That sounds awful. But you saw him anyway, right?"

"Recently, my Dad made contact with me," Penny explained, "and I've been down to Mantle to visit him, and after Rainbow and Blake rescued him from his lodger who turned out to be a thief—"

"He what?" asked Sunset.

"It doesn't really matter," Rainbow told her.

"He's such a kind man," Penny said. "I believe that he truly wants what's best for me."

"Unlike your Father," Ruby said, in a voice that was almost a growl.

"Father is…" Penny trailed off. "Even Father and I understand one another better than we used to." She beamed. "That's why I'm going to be transferring to Beacon next year!"

"What? Really?!" Ruby cried. "You're going to be staying at Beacon permanently?"

"Not permanently, I hope," Penny replied. "Only until I graduate; although I suppose it is possible that I could fail my classes and have to resit years, the chances of me failing so often that I would never graduate are—"

"Ruby didn't really mean 'permanently,'" Sunset explained. "Only until graduation."

"That is a very short definition of 'permanent,'" Penny pointed out.

"But is that allowed?" Ruby asked. "Are they going to let you do that?"

"I don't know," Penny admitted. "And I won't know until I try."

"But what are you going to do when you get here?" asked Pyrrha. "What team are you going to be on—?"

"I'm transferring to Atlas next year," Blake pointed out. "Penny could take my spot on Team Iron."

"'Transferring,'" Pyrrha murmured. "So, you've made your decision then."

"Yes," Blake said. "Yes, I have. This kingdom is certainly not without its problems, but I believe that I can do more good addressing those problems, and the problems of the rest of Remnant, here than anywhere else that I might go."

The corners of Pyrrha's lips twitched upwards. "You know, Blake," she said, "I think you're more determined to save the world than I am."

Blake chuckled. "I suppose I've always been … not necessarily an optimist, but I've always been possessed of oversized ambitions. And something about this place…"

"It's the lack of oxygen at high altitudes going to your head," Sunset muttered.

"Sunset," Pyrrha chided her gently. To Blake, she said, "Have you found your place in the world?"

Blake smiled. "Yes. Yes, I really think I have."

"Then we are all very happy for you," Pyrrha said. "Just as we all hope that you can find the same thing here at Beacon, Penny, regardless of the exact nature of your circumstances here."

Penny nodded. "That's all I want right now: a chance to find out who I am and what else I want for myself, instead of having other people decide it for me."

"And you'll get it, Penny, I promise," Ruby vowed. "It's what you deserve, what everyone deserves: a chance to find their own way, even if it means making mistakes."

"Speaking of which," Sunset said, "I've got a favour to ask of you, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "What is it?"

"Ruby and I made a friend recently," Sunset said. "Her name's Leaf Kelly—"

"Sunset," Ruby said, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing wrong," Sunset replied defensively. To Rainbow and the others, she went on, "She's coming to Atlas, and I was hoping you could keep an eye on her for us, for me, make sure that she gets settled in okay."

"Who is this girl?" Blake asked. "Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"She's just a girl, and she's not in any trouble that we know of," Sunset said. "Although she'll be in trouble once her mother finds out she's gone. No, it's just that she's running away to Atlas without much money or any kind of plan, and I…"

"Sunset thinks she's making a mistake," Ruby said.

"She is making a mistake, by any objective measure," Sunset replied. "Nevertheless, I accept that she has a right to make that mistake because I am an open-minded team leader who takes on board the perspectives of her friends and teammates and certainly doesn't just dismiss them with a blithe certainty in my own rightness." She paused, as if daring anyone to contradict her. "But I don't see that there needs to be a tension between letting her do this thing and taking steps to make sure that it goes okay. I mean, Rainbow, we both know that the streets of Atlas aren't paved with gold, right?"

Rainbow nodded. Atlas might be — Atlas was — forward-looking, but just because it didn't fetishise its past the way that Mistral did didn't mean that it was without traditions to take pride in, and one of those traditions it was proud of was being a kingdom of immigrants; from the first settlers who sailed north in search of a land free from grimm and who carved out a home for themselves amidst the ice and snow, Atlas and Mantle had been built and renewed over the generations by fresh blood coming from all parts of Remnant to be a part of the greatest kingdom. Some, like Blake, came because the ideals of Atlas spoke to them; others — the majority — came because Atlas promised jobs and opportunity not to be found in stolid old Mistral, empty Vacuo, or stagnant Vale. In Atlas, you could strike it rich.

Or you could remain very poor, and a lot — most — of those who set out with big dreams and high expectations did just that.

Rainbow thought about Gilda, railing against everyone who was 'keeping us down,' joining the White Fang to fight back; when your dreams felt as far away as Atlas was from the ground, it was easy to become bitter and for that bitterness to lead you to some dark places; she thought about Mantle, about the old woman killed in her home and the hopeless boy who had killed her and been killed in turn.

She thought about herself. Life … life could be tough around here, if you didn't have some good friends to rely on. Life could be tough, and the nights could be cold.

"Sure," she said, "I'll keep an eye on her. Give her a hand getting settled in."

"Thanks," Sunset said. "That makes me feel a lot better."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate having someone to help her navigate a new city," Ruby added.

Sunset looked at her.

"What?" Ruby asked. "Did you think I was going to object or something?"

"I … wondered if you might," Sunset admitted quietly.

"You're not going to tell her mom to stop her leaving, are you?" Ruby asked.

"No."

"Then what would I complain about?"

"You wanted to tell her parents and stop this girl from getting away?" asked Jaune.

"That would have been a rather cruel thing to do to a friend, I must say," Pyrrha murmured.

"See? Even Pyrrha agrees with me!" Ruby cried. "Pyrrha never agrees with me over you!"

"Sometimes, you just have to run away from home," Jaune declared. "Yeah, I suppose it can be rough on your family with them not knowing where you are, but it can be the best thing that ever happened to you. You can finally find out who you are, where you belong, what you're capable of. Like Penny, like you, you ran away from Equestria, right?"

"Yes, and I … I admit that I do not regret it, but … I'm just glad that she won't be alone up there. Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

"It's no trouble," Rainbow said. "When's she getting here?"

"Her airship leaves … tomorrow, actually," Sunset said. "It's a good job that we called."

"Okay, I'll check when it's going to get here and be at the Skydock when she arrives," Rainbow promised. I might ask Rarity to join me; she knows her way around the city better than I do. After all, Rarity lived here full time, while Rainbow was a more intermittent visitor, and confined what was more within the Academy for large amounts of the time when she was here. In consequence, she didn't know her home as well as she perhaps might have done if circumstances had been different.

"We can all help, I'm sure, if necessary," Twilight said.

"Although I'm not sure that it necessitated you calling us all like this," Blake pointed out.

Pyrrha laughed nervously. "This … it isn't actually why we called you."

"Where's Ciel?" asked Ruby.

"Ciel's in Mantle, with her family," Penny replied.

"That's unfortunate; we wanted to tell you all of this at once," Sunset said.

"You'll have to fill her in," Jaune said. "We'd ask you to remember to, but I don't think there's much chance you'll forget once you hear what we have to say."

"Way to set big expectations," Rainbow remarked. "So, what's this about?"

The four members of Team SAPR hesitated for a moment.

"Do you all know the Story of the Seasons?" Pyrrha asked.

"I do!" Penny cried. "It was in the book Blake gave me."

Pyrrha smiled. "Did you enjoy it?"

"It was okay," Penny replied. "It wasn't one of my favourites."

"Really?" asked Rainbow. "You didn't like it?"

"I didn't say that," Penny said. "I just said it wasn't one of my favourites. It was okay. It was fine. It just didn't speak to me very much. I couldn't really understand why the old wizard was willing to just sit around his house without doing anything. He could have left any time he wanted, with or without the sisters."

Twilight frowned. "Which story is this?"

"Come on, Twi, you know the one," Rainbow said. "The Story of the Seasons, with the old man living alone in the woods and the four sisters who visit him. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, remember?"

If asked, Rainbow Dash would have strenuously denied that she was one for fairy tales, but that particular story … she really liked it. She thought it was a story about how far you could get with a kind word. Plus … she would never, ever admit this out loud, but in her head, every time she heard that story, she imagined the four sisters as Twilight, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy.

Of course, part of the reason Rainbow would never say that out loud is that there was no room for Rarity, and there were times when Rainbow felt as though she'd be a better fit for Winter than Twilight, for different reasons, but mostly … yeah, sorry, Rarity.

"Oh, right, yes, I remember the one," Twilight said. "Sorry, I'm not much of a fan."

"A little surprising," Sunset murmured. "You never considered that clues to magic might be found in fairy stories?"

"No," Twilight said, "I—" Her eyes widened behind her spectacles. "You mean that—?"

"This particular story is not just a story," Pyrrha explained. "It contains truth, the origin of the four Maidens: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall."

"'Maidens'?" Blake repeated.

"We didn't ask who chose the name or why," Sunset said. "But what we do know is that they are the magic in this world, and Professor Ozpin — and General Ironwood and the others — have been protecting them all these years."

Now it was the turn of the Atlesians to fall momentarily silent.

General Ironwood knew. He knew all along what Twilight was searching for, and he never told her. It probably shouldn't have surprised her, all things considered, but Rainbow couldn't help but find that rather rough on Twi; yes, in her head, she got it, there were a lot of reasons to keep it secret and no good reasons to tell her anything, but all the same, in her heart, it felt rather rough on Twilight.

Beyond that, it was … kind of hard to think, honestly. Twilight was right. Twilight had been right all along. Magic was real — magic had been real for some time, thanks to Sunset — but this other kind of magic, the magic that Twilight had seen as a kid, that was real too. Magic was real and … themed after the seasons? How did that work? And General Ironwood was protecting them, but how? How did you protect someone whom most people didn't know existed?

The secrecy is the protection, I guess. Although it wasn't what Rainbow Dash thought of as protection: guards, walls, weapons.

Twilight said, "So, the person who saved my life and my family—"

"The Winter Maiden," Ruby said. "Professor Ozpin told us so.

"Winter Maiden," Twilight murmured. "Wait a second, I…"

"Twilight?" Blake asked as Twilight trailed off into silence.

Twilight shook her head. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. Don't tell me you're going to start keeping secrets now, too.

"I … I don't understand," Penny said. "So … the fairy tale is true? An old wizard gave his power to the four sisters?"

"Yes, Penny, that's right," Pyrrha said. "Because he was moved by the kindness they had shown him."

"Where did the old man's powers come from?" Blake wondered aloud.

Sunset shrugged on the other end of the line. "Does it matter? Where does my magic, and all the magic of my people, come from? Magic … magic is. Speaking of which, how's Spike?"

"Having a lot of trouble not talking," Twilight said. "He's with Fluttershy at the moment."

"We should get back on topic," Rainbow said. "What is it that you don't understand, Penny?"

"Just that it's been … that fairy tale must have happened so long ago," Penny said. "What does it have to do with now?"

"The power passes on," Jaune explained. "There are always four maidens, and when one of them dies, her power passes on to a new host."

Twilight gasped. "So the prophets and the saints—"

"Maidens," Sunset said. "And the Red Queens too."

"Red who?" Rainbow asked.

"The Red Queen was a bandit who killed the Empress of Mistral and briefly overthrew the Nikos dynasty," Blake murmured.

"Also a Maiden, it seems," Pyrrha said.

"The summary of it is that, as Jaune says, each time a Maiden dies, her magic passes on to someone else," Sunset said. "As myths and legends record, for a time, the four Maidens lived more or less openly amongst men, continuing the work that the first four sisters had been charged with: sharing their gifts with the people of Remnant, bringing them together, spreading the light of hope. Until Salem put it into the first Red Queen's head to kill a Maiden for her powers, which she did."

"If a Maiden is killed, her powers pass to her murderer?" Blake asked.

"Professor Ozpin says that it's a little more complicated than that," said Ruby.

"But basically, yes,” Sunset said.

Blake frowned. "That seems like a very flawed system."

"Tell me about it," Sunset muttered. "I've been saying that ever since I read Twilight's book. It's—"

"Insane?" Blake suggested. "It incentivises the very worst people to do terrible things and grants power to precisely those you would least want to have it."

"Which is exactly what happened," Sunset said. "One by one, all of the Maidens were hunted down and killed, and their powers went to people you really wouldn't want to have them. Until…"

"Until the Red Queens were hunted down in turn," Twilight said.

Sunset nodded. "By our predecessors, basically, and by Professor Ozpin's. From what Professor Ozpin explained to us, the leader of the group, as well as fighting Salem, always had a responsibility to the Maidens as well, to introduce them to … well, the fact that they had magic now, to teach them how to use it, explain to them what it was to be used for. Eventually, one of them decided that enough was enough and that the powers of the Maidens were too dangerous to be out in the world. I don't agree, but—"

"But it's easy to see why they thought that way, considering what happened," Jaune added.

"And so, the four Maidens have been kept secret ever since," Ruby said. "The powers still pass on, but instead of being sent out into the world, they're kept … well, we don't exactly know where they're kept. My Mom and Dad and their team met a Maiden once; they escorted her on a mission to find her successor—"

"How can you find a successor to powers that won't pass on until you die?" asked Blake.

"Uh, I think they'd chosen her to get the powers and were taking her somewhere to make sure she would," Ruby said. "Somehow, Professor Ozpin wouldn't tell us exactly how the powers pass from one Maiden to another, so we're still missing some detail on that part. The point is, the Maidens still exist, but nobody can know that in case Salem tries to hunt them down."

"Didn't they think of trying beefed up security?" asked Rainbow.

"What's more secure than secrecy?" asked Blake in turn.

"An armoured warship and a big gun," Rainbow replied.

"Someone who isn't being hunted doesn't need protection," Blake pointed out.

"Someone can't be protected properly if nobody understands they need protection," Rainbow shot back. "Say that Salem found out who the Winter Maiden is; Atlas couldn't protect her because Atlas wouldn't get that she was being hunted."

"By that argument, everyone should know about Salem, too," Blake said.

"That's not the same thing at all," Rainbow said. "We don't need to know about Salem to fight the grimm when they come."

"What about fighting someone like Cinder?" Blake pointed out.

"Well, okay, but even so, we can still fight Cinder provided that we know her target; if she were going after a Maiden, how would we know, when we're not even supposed to know they exist?"

"Apparently, Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood know, and presumably, they'd recognise if they were under attack," Blake said. "Speaking of which, how is it that you know all of this secret information?"

"Well, we had a lot of the information already," Sunset said. "The fairy tale, the myths and legends from the books you gave me, Summer Rose's account of her mission with Auburn."

"And I … I got a visit from Raven recently," Ruby said quietly. "She … she said a few things, and one of them was to mention the four Maidens. She didn't explain what they were, but … we were able to put it together."

"We went to see Professor Ozpin, and he confirmed what we had surmised," said Pyrrha.

"And gave us permission to tell you," Jaune said.

"Thanks," Rainbow said flatly. "I mean that, even if I don't sound like it." She glanced around the room, at Penny, Twilight, and Blake. "Would you guys mind giving us some time to talk this out amongst ourselves? I'm sure you all know what you think about this, but … we're still figuring it out."

"Of course," Pyrrha said softly. "You can always call if you want to talk more."

Rainbow nodded. "Later, guys."

"Goodbye!" Penny cried cheerily.

The four members of Team SAPR hung up.

Rainbow Dash put her scroll away and clapped her hands together. "Okay then," she said. "What do we think about this?"

"I would just like to say," Twilight said, in a very mild and gentle voice, "that I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG! HAH!" She beamed triumphant, for a few seconds at least, before her face fell. "And … I can't tell anyone about it. Not even our friends. Wow, this sucks."

"We're all very sorry that your opportunity to gloat has been curtailed," Blake said dryly.

Twilight snorted. "I know, I know, but … it would be nice to share this with other people, you know."

"Speaking of sharing with other people," Rainbow said, "what is it that you didn't want to say in front of the Sapphires?"

Twilight blinked. "I don't know what you—"

"Yes," Rainbow cut her off. "Yes, you do; come on, out with it."

Twilight looked away, glancing down at the floor. "I … I'm not sure if I ought to say," she murmured.

"Twilight," Rainbow urged. "It's us. We're all in this together, right?"

Twilight hesitated. "Well … it's just that … I think that I might know who the Winter Maiden is."

"Really?" Penny asked. "Who?"

"Just as importantly, how?" asked Blake.

"I really don't know if I ought to tell you," Twilight said.

"They're not going to be in any danger from us," Rainbow insisted. "We're the good guys. And … you know, if I was one of these Maidens and had to hide my powers, I wouldn't mind if someone else found out and I could talk to them about." She paused, frowning. "But I thought you didn't recognise the woman who saved your life?"

"No, it isn't her," Twilight said. "She … she must be dead." Her head bowed a little, and she clasped her hands together upon her knees. "No, I think … I think the new Winter Maiden is Starlight."

"Starlight Glimmer?" Blake said.

"Do we know any other Starlights?" Twilight replied.

"No," Blake admitted, "but … really? I've never seen her demonstrate any magical powers."

"It sounds as though that's kind of the point," Twilight said.

"What makes you think it's her?" asked Rainbow.

Twilight pushed her glasses back up her nose. "When you were in Mountain Glenn, I was waiting with Team Tsunami in case you needed backup. On that night, before we talked, Starlight took me aside for a talk of our own. She knows that something is going on with us, she's not stupid, and she knew that there was more to the Mountain Glenn mission than she'd been told." Twilight took a breath. "She asked me if the term 'Winter Maiden' meant anything to me."

"That doesn't mean she is the Winter Maiden," said Blake.

"It's a pretty strange phrase to use in any other context, don't you think?" demanded Twilight.

"It proves that she knows about the Maidens somehow," Rainbow agreed. "It doesn't prove that she's the Winter Maiden herself. I mean … if she is the Winter Maiden, then what's she doing as an Atlas student? Blake says that secrecy is the best security, that the Maidens can't be targeted if nobody knows who they are, but even if we buy that … in Starlight's case, what security? She could die on any mission, and then what? The powers pass on to … whoever? To the person who killed her, maybe, even if they didn't know about Maidens, when they killed her. And yeah, I know that Starlight's a hard case, and it would take a lot to bring her down, and even more with Trixie by her side, but she's not invincible. If keeping the Maidens safe is that important … my issue with magic has always been 'if it exists, why not use it?' After all, magic is a weapon, no different than a gun or a semblance, and I know that because the Winter Maiden used it as a weapon to save Twilight. But if the magic of the Maidens is so powerful a weapon that the risk it would fall into enemy hands outweighs any consideration of the benefit that could be gained from using it on the front lines — and whether I believe it or not, it seems like the General feels that way, or at least Professor Ozpin does, and the General isn't going to go against him on it — if preventing the loss of the Maiden powers really is priority number one … General Ironwood wouldn't send the Maiden into battle. I don't buy it; it doesn't make sense to me."

Twilight's brow furrowed. "Then … how did Starlight know?"

"You could ask her," Penny suggested.

Rainbow laughed. "Yes, yes, Penny, I guess we could; that is a very good point. Not over the scroll, though; we'll talk to her in person when we get back to Beacon."

The corners of Blake's lips turned upwards. "What do you think about all this, Penny?"

"I … I feel sorry for them," Penny said.

"'Sorry for them'?" asked Twilight.

"Having to live their whole lives a secret," Penny explained. "Never able to tell anyone what they really are, what they can do, about their magic. It must be very hard on them. I think they must get very lonely."

"Just because they have to hide their powers doesn't mean they have to be alone," Rainbow said.

"If nobody knows who you really are, then you're always alone, no matter how many people are around you," Blake murmured.

"You feel the same way, huh?" asked Rainbow.

"Whatever the intentions of the old man in the story, which — admittedly, upon the evidence of a story — seem to have been benign," Blake said, "the fact remains that his intervention was unnecessary, and this system, whatever good it may have done in days gone by, has become something cruel."

"This system saved Twilight's life," Rainbow pointed out.

Blake cringed. "I didn't mean to suggest that—"

"I know," Twilight assured her. "We both know."

"I wasn't accusing you of anything," Rainbow said. "I was just pointing out that … even if they are forced to hide, Twilight's example shows that they're still able to get stuff done."

"One example," Blake said. "How many other times have the Maidens shown themselves recently?"

Rainbow glanced at Twilight.

"Not many," Twilight admitted. "Or else tracking magic wouldn't be so hard."

Blake nodded. "I have to admit that … perhaps my attitude is a little coloured by the fact that I don't see the need for these Maidens in the first place—"

"You don't?" Rainbow asked.

"You do?" responded Blake.

"People need heroes," Rainbow said.

"Heroes, yes, but not magic," Blake replied. "People that others can look up to and aspire to be, but … what good is a hero if the thing that makes them a hero is something you can never become or possess? What kind of an inspiration is someone whose accomplishments come from a power that can never be yours? A hero is … a hero is someone who shows others that anyone can be a hero, if only they have the courage and the commitment. Someone … someone like…" She trailed off and didn't finish whatever it was that she had been about to say.

"But what about Equestria?" Penny asked. "Princess Twilight got wings to show that she'd become a hero. How is this any different?"

"You said it yourself, Penny; Princess Twilight became a hero," Blake pointed out. "She didn't start off as an alicorn; she was just a unicorn like any other who achieved great things and was rewarded for it."

"The four sisters were rewarded," Rainbow pointed out.

"But since then, it appears that the Maiden powers just bestow themselves, even upon murderers," Blake replied. "The point is that in the present day, those girls — and judging from the name, it appears that they are all girls — who are unfortunate enough to receive this magic … it traps them. It cages them. It binds them to a life from which they cannot escape, a half life, lived forever with one foot amidst shadows and secrets. I … I can't believe that they find any joy in it."

"You find joy where you can," Rainbow said. "Even in a hard life. Just because things are hard doesn't mean that it's unrelenting misery. I admit that you don't make it sound good, but … I'm sure there's happiness and laughter in there too somewhere. With someone."

"Not that we'll know for sure, seeing as how we don't get to know who the Maidens are," Twilight pointed out.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "Yeah, we'll never know for sure."

"Are you going to tell Ciel about all this?" asked Penny.

"Yeah," Rainbow declared. "Yeah, the next time I take you to visit your dad, I'll swing by her place and fill her in."

"How do you think she'll take it?" asked Twilight.

"Stoically, like she takes everything else," Rainbow said. "But what she'll think about it…" She let out a kind of laugh. "I honestly have no idea."

Leaf in the North (New)

Leaf in the North

The cardboard sign had Leaf Kelly scrawled on it in block letters and blue felt pen.

Rainbow held it up above her head as she stood on the concourse of the Skydock and watched a column of people flow out of the lounge, having just disembarked from the most recent airship to touch down.

“Do you see her yet?” Penny asked.

“We don’t actually know what she looks like, remember?” Rainbow reminded her.

“Sunset could have sent you a photograph,” Rarity declared. “If only for convenience’s sake.”

“Maybe she didn’t have one,” Rainbow replied. “I mean, it sounds like they haven’t known her for very long.” She paused for a moment. “Thanks for coming down here like this, by the way, and on your day off too.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, darling, nothing at all,” Rarity said lightly.

She was wearing a maroon trenchcoat that covered her up from the neck down to the knees, with only a little bit of a burgundy skirt and the black stockings that covered up the rest of her legs down to her high heels showing beneath it; a salmon-coloured belt clinched in the coat around her waist, and the pussy bow around her neck was of the exact same colour. Her face was overshadowed by the broad-brimmed burgundy hat she was wearing, with another salmon-coloured ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a bow at the back.

Rarity waved off Rainbow’s thanks with a black-gloved hand. “Anything for you, of course, not to mention that I’m always glad to help a newcomer settle in here amongst the clouds. Why, I remember when I first arrived in Atlas; if it hadn’t been for Twilight’s help, I would have ended up … well, one shudders to contemplate.”

“You arrived in Atlas?” Blake asked. “I thought you must have been born here.”

Rarity chuckled. “Well, that’s very kind of you to say, dear, but quite incorrect. I’m actually from Mantle by birth.”

“From Mantle?” Blake repeated, incredulousness filling every syllable. “You … from Mantle?”

It was difficult to be sure because of the way she was wearing her hat, but it definitely seemed to Rainbow as though Rarity was smiling.

“I’m so glad that you’re surprised, darling.”

“Why?” asked Penny. “Are you ashamed of coming from Mantle?”

“Yes,” Rarity said. “You must excuse the uncharacteristic bluntness, but there aren’t many ways to mince that particular word. Suffice it to say that if you were not our friend, Blake, and if Rainbow Dash did not vouch for you, Penny, I would certainly not admit the fact that I am not, in fact, a thoroughbred daughter of Atlas. I will not, for example, be admitting as much to young Miss Kelly when she graces us with her presence, and I trust that I can rely on your discretion on this point.”

“I’ll keep your secret, of course,” Blake said, “but—”

“But why are you ashamed?” asked Penny. “I mean … what’s wrong with Mantle?”

“You know how you think you’ll be happier at Beacon than at Atlas?” Rainbow asked. “Well, it’s like that Rarity; she thought she’d be happier in Atlas than in Mantle, and she has been. Sometimes, there’s nothing more to it than that.”

And sometimes, there is, but I don’t want to get into an argument right now; it would be a fine thing for this Leaf to show up and find Blake and Rarity having a row about the state of Mantle.

“Oh,” Penny said. “Right. I see. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s quite alright,” Rarity assured her. “We all have our own views, after all.”

Blake chuckled. “I suppose we are among the last two people to be lecturing about the evils of moving away in search of … anything really; fulfilment, a better life, the achievement of our goals.”

“If it were that bad, we wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Rainbow reminded them all. “Although to be honest, I’m still not sure why you two decided to come.”

“I want to meet another of Ruby and Sunset’s friends,” Penny declared.

“Although I’m still fairly new to Atlas myself,” Blake said, “that doesn’t mean that … well, perhaps it’s precisely because I’m still fairly new to Atlas that I want to help out a fellow newcomer if I can.”

“Where do you think she is?” Penny asked, standing up on her toes in order to see a little better over the crowd of people still spilling off the airship and into the Skydock. “What if she missed her flight?”

“I’m sure that if she’d missed her flight, Sunset would have called again to let us know,” Rainbow replied. “Don’t worry, Penny; she’ll be here. There are a lot of people who have to get off this flight, you know.”

A movement in the crowd caught Rainbow’s eye, or rather, a lack of movement; there was a girl who had broken away from the crowd just a little bit, standing and … yep, she was definitely staring right at them. Staring up at the sign that Rainbow was holding in her hands.

She stared, she looked around, and she looked at them.

She stared, and then she began to make her way towards them. She looked to be about Rainbow and Rarity’s age, maybe just a little older — and older than Sunset or Ruby, and definitely older than Penny, not that that was hard — with soft brown hair dyed a luminescent blue at the tips, and piercings in both her human ears and in the squirrel ears that poked up out of said soft brown hair.

Sunset hadn’t actually mentioned that Leaf was a faunus. Not that it was a big deal that she was, obviously.

She was dressed in a light brown puffer jacket, which was unzipped so that Rainbow could see the airy, gauzy orange dress that she was wearing over the black and grey plaid dress beneath; black tights covered the gap between her skirt and her steel toecapped boots, which went almost up to her knees.

There were also a couple of piercings in her nose. She walked with a slight hunch to her, like she didn’t want to be seen, like she was being furtive about something, or perhaps it was just the weight of the back that she had slung over one shoulder. Either way, she walked over to them, looking left and right as she did so as though she thought someone else might be coming over to them instead; she didn’t stop until she was pretty much standing right in front of them.

“So, um…” she began haltingly, hesitantly. “I, uh, I mean—”

“Are you Leaf Kelly?” Rainbow asked, lowering her handmade sign.

“Yeah,” Leaf confirmed. “But—”

“We’re friends of Ruby and Sunset too!” Penny proclaimed. “Salutations! It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Leaf blinked her brown eyes. “Ruby… Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer?”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow said. “Since you’re new here and all, they asked if we’d help you get settled in.”

“Oh,” Leaf said. “Oh, wow, that … that’s nice of them. I didn’t think that they … you know, I think that might be the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me. Or … maybe it’s this, since you guys don’t even really know me.”

“But we’d like to,” Penny said.

Leaf laughed softly. “Well…” She held out her hand, the one that she wasn’t using to hold onto her bag, and gestured to encompass herself. “I’m Leaf Kelly.”

“And I’m Penny Polendina.”

Leaf grinned and held out one balled fist. “Nice to meet you, Penny Polendina.”

Penny beamed and drew back her own fist.

“Penny!” Rainbow said urgently. She didn’t want to break Leaf’s hand or anything, after all.

“Oh, right,” Penny said, and she very slowly, very gently, brought her knuckles into contact with Leaf’s hand.

“I’m Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow said, before Leaf could start to wonder what was going on there.

“I’m Blake.”

“And I’m Rarity, darling; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Leaf bumped fists with Rainbow and shook hands with Blake and Rarity. “So, if you know Sunset and Ruby, does that mean that you’re all Atlas students?”

“I am,” Rainbow said. “Blake is gonna be, Penny is but isn’t gonna be for much longer, and Rarity isn’t.”

Leaf nodded a couple of times, looking upwards as though she was committing it to memory. “Right, well,” she attempted to salute, although she got the angle of her hand completely wrong, presenting the flat of her palm to them instead of the edge.

“You really don’t need to do that,” Rainbow assured her. “In fact, it’s kind of disrespectful.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t—”

“I know, I know; I’m just saying that you don’t need to do it,” Rainbow told her. “Anyway: welcome to Atlas!”

Leaf grinned. “Thanks. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Oh, I think I might have an idea,” Rainbow replied.

“Do you think Atlas will be so much better than Vale?” Penny asked.

“I know it will be,” Leaf declared. “Isn’t it?”

“I think the most important thing that matters isn’t where you are,” Penny said, “but where your friends are and whether you’re surrounded by good people who care about you.”

“That … sounds nice, if a little bit sappy,” Leaf said. “But if you don’t have that where you are, and you don’t have that anywhere else either, then all that you can do is look at where you are and say … is this where I want to be? And if it isn’t, then you have to ask yourself where it is that you want to go instead. That’s what I did, and that’s why I—”

Her scroll began to buzz.

“Oh, for—!” she got the device out of the pocket of her puffer jacket, putting her bag down on the ground at her feet for a second as she did so, and opened it up.

“Stop calling me and stop sending me messages!” she snapped, swinging violently across the screen to delete the notifications.

“Who is it?” Blake asked.

Leaf sighed. “Who isn’t it?” she responded. “My mum, my stepdad, my ex. ‘Where are you? Call me back?’ No.”

“You’re just going to ignore them?” Rarity asked. “Without saying anything?”

“Yeah,” Leaf said. “I don’t want to … I can’t deal with mum right now, and I don’t … I don’t want to hear her screaming into my ear in the middle of the skydock, and I don’t think anyone else really wants that either.”

“I admit, that does sound like a good way to get security involved,” Rarity murmured.

You could send them a text, Rainbow thought. Not too long ago, she wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on when it came to this, but she had written to her parents since then — she wondered if they’d gotten her letter yet; how long did it take to get a boat to Menagerie these days? — and so, on that basis, she could say that Leaf was being a little bit of a jerk.

Well, so it seemed, at least. She didn’t know Leaf’s mother, or her stepdad, or her ex. They might have all been complete jackasses who deserved to get cut out of Leaf’s life. They might be the reason Leaf had run away to Atlas, to get away from them.

And so, not knowing exactly what the circumstances were like and not wanting to act like a jerk herself, Rainbow didn’t say anything.

Blake, on the other hand, reached out and placed a hand upon Leaf’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah,” Leaf said immediately. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I … I don’t know,” Blake admitted. “I just … I guess I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m not running away, if that’s what you think,” Leaf insisted. “I mean, I suppose I am running away, but I’m not running away from anything, I just … I’m running away to something, towards something, or at least, I hope I am. I’m not entirely sure what it is yet, but…”

“Well, if you need help finding it, that’s what we’re here for,” Rainbow said. “How was your flight?”

“Pretty good, when I wasn’t getting spammed with messages,” Leaf said. “They’re pretty comfortable, those airships, aren’t they? A bit more expensive than I thought; I can’t believe you have to pay for food on top of your ticket. Shouldn’t that stuff be all included in the price?”

“But then how would people who have more money get better food than everyone else?” Rarity asked dryly.

Leaf snorted. “I have to say, that hologram that ‘welcomed’ us all to Atlas … that’s kind of freaky.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Blake asked. “When I got here, it suggested that I find a place to stay, since I didn’t have one lined up.”

“Ah, I actually do have a place to stay lined up, so I got told that I should take a cab to a public elevator to get there,” Leaf said. “Although the flight cost more than I thought it would, so I’m going to need to find a job faster if I’m going to make the rent on this place.”

“Well, why don’t we take you down to this place you have lined up to drop your stuff off, and then afterwards, we can help you find a job or start looking for one?” Rainbow suggested. “Rarity, you can help with that, right?”

“Yes,” Rarity said. “Yes, I think so. Where is it that you’re staying, darling?”

“Um,” Leaf looked at her scroll, swiping more carefully across the screen, and with less sign of bad temper now. “I am staying at … right, apartment six-forty-five on Grey Seventeen.”

“Ah, yes, Grey Sector, I know it,” Rarity said. “The places there are often rather affordable. But there’s no need to get a cab, no. I’ll get you a travel pass — that’ll be on your scroll; you can top it up once you start earning — and we can take an elevator down to Blue sector, get the subway until we’re above the right zone of Grey sector, and then take the elevator from there down to Grey Seventeen.”

“Are you sure?” Leaf asked.

“I do know my way around the city,” Rarity observed.

“Right,” Leaf agreed, a slightly sheepish smile on her face. “Sorry. I … yeah. So … am I going to be living underground?”

Rarity glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Yes, yes, you will; was that not clear when you signed up for this place?”

“Probably,” Leaf admitted. “I … I was willing to take anything to be honest; I just wanted to be here and away from Vale.”

“I see,” Rarity murmured. “Well, speaking personally, although I wouldn’t object to having a place with windows — and I will have one, one day, I guarantee it — there’s nothing horrendous about living belowground. Living underground in Atlas is still living in Atlas, after all, and the elevators ensure that the surface is never far away. Now, shall we be going?”

“Sure,” Leaf said. She picked up her bag and once more slung it across her shoulder. “Hey … is this place as great as it looks in the pictures?”

“Oh, yes indeed, darling,” said Rarity.

“It’s better than the pictures,” Rainbow said.

“I … agree with Penny,” Blake murmured. “It’s the people that make a place what it is.” She smiled. “But, as I’m sure you’ll find out, the people can make this place very good indeed.”

“I think I might be finding that already,” Leaf said. “I’m honestly starting to wonder if I slipped and fell off the edge of the city getting off the airship, because there is no way that four complete strangers took the time out to help me get settled in here.”

“Well, it’s not like we had anything better to do,” Rainbow said.

Leaf snorted. “Seriously?”

“Seriously?” Rainbow asked. “Sunset and Ruby are good friends of ours, and when they asked us to help you out, we couldn’t say no, right? Now, come on, grab your stuff, and let’s get moving.”

Leaf had already grabbed her stuff, so it was just the matter of getting moving. Rarity led the way, her heels tapping upon the pristine white floor of the concourse — an army of those squeaky little mouse droids ran up and down, dodging around or even between the legs of people in order to keep it that way, vigorously scrubbing away even the slightest hint of a stain anywhere visible.

“You’ll get used to those,” Blake murmured as Leaf stared at one of the little droids that went rolling by.

“Are they everywhere?” Leaf asked.

“Robots are everywhere,” Blake replied. “This is Atlas, after all.”

Leaf smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “This is Atlas.” She raised her arms up in the air and raised her voice to shout. “This is Atlas!”

“We know it is; we live here!” someone yelled at her.

“Shut up!” Leaf shouted back.

Rainbow shook her head as Rarity led them out of the skydock, through a door which brought them not onto the car park but onto one of the streets running alongside the dock. The skies were clear; all the clouds had, for today, been banished from them. The air was crisp and even, but not too cool, even though it wasn’t warm by any means. A cruiser glided past overhead, with a couple of Skydarts flying escort on its flanks.

As they walked towards the nearest elevator, they passed by the robots working on the roadside; they passed beneath the shadows of the buildings rising up all around them, the sunlight gleaming off the glass and steel. They passed beneath the airships zipping to and fro overhead.

Leaf stopped for a moment, turning in place, arms out a little on either side of her.

“This,” she whispered, “this is going to be so brilliant.”

The fact of the matter was that it was kind of easier to move around Atlas underground than it was above it.

It wasn’t that overhead was completely devoid of public transport — there was the monorail that ran around the edge of the city, that cut through the centre of it as well to pass by Atlas Academy — but it was also a little bit limited in where it went, there were only so many stops, and there was a lot of Atlas that it didn’t service at all; also, it was elevated above the ground, so while it was quite literally ‘above ground,’ it wasn’t exactly on the surface.

Rainbow thought it was probably a question of space; if you wanted to put a good tram line or something like that on the surface of Atlas, you were going to have to clear up a lot of space that was already being used for homes, stores, stuff, labs, stuff like that. Whereas, in the Underground, there had been more room to say that public transport was going to be included as part of the package.

It probably didn’t hurt that it was inherently hard to move around underground on account of all the rock in the way, so you had to put something in there.

Whatever the exact reason, Atlas had a lot of subways. Layers and layers and layers of subways, more layers than a wedding cake of subways. There was one that ran close to the surface — the Nicholas Line — that was probably the most convenient way to get between one place on the surface and the other if you didn’t have a car, and then underneath that, there were all the lines serving the different levels dug into the rock of Atlas, all the way down to the half-completed Brown levels where they’d just sort of given up digging halfway through and left the whole thing unfinished. Nobody lived down there, but there were all kinds of urban legends about what you might find if you climbed down a disused elevator shaft all the way down to the abandoned layers of the city: ghosts, mutants, and a subway train rattling down the abandoned tunnels, carrying passengers who had climbed aboard but could never get off.

All of the levels and all of the lines — not the ghost line, obviously, the actual lines with actual subway trains running on them — were accessed via elevators going down from the surface, although they didn’t all go down all the way. So Rarity brought Rainbow, Blake, Penny, and Leaf to an elevator going down as far as the Blue levels, which were the second layer of the Underground — White being the first — and coincidentally the level on which Rarity lived.

“Although of course I live on the highest level of Blue, darling,” Rarity said. “I practically live in White, really.”

“Is that just a status thing, or does it actually matter?” Leaf asked.

Rarity hesitated. “I’m afraid it does matter somewhat, yes … you’ll see for yourself when we reach your apartment.”

The elevator was large, almost industrial in size, although it was meant for people; it’s just that it was meant for the large crowds of people who might want to come up to the surface on their commute to and from work on the surface; that was Rainbow’s best guess as to why the elevators only went to certain levels: to control the crowds at key times.

However, this wasn’t a key time, and the five of them pretty much had the elevator to themselves, with cavernous space as they got inside, each of them using their scrolls to scan in, paying the fee with the credit they’d already put there.

They could have spread out as much as they wanted, but there wouldn’t have been much point to that, so they stuck pretty close together anyway, just without needing to press close shoulder to shoulder like they would have in, say, the elevator leading up to the headmaster’s office at Beacon — or even in Atlas, for that matter.

“Blue Seven, please,” Rarity said, in a clear, crisp voice, and the great doors of the lift slid shut with a quiet that always surprised Rainbow Dash. The light in the elevator was a soft ambient blue as it began to move downwards.

“Is it alright if I smoke?” Leaf asked.

“Smoking is not permitted anywhere aboard Transport for Atlas vehicles or facilities,” said the mechanical voice of the elevator.

Leaf’s whole body jolted as though she’d been shocked; she nearly collided with Penny; her ears pricked all the way up and her eyes widened. “Did that … did it just hear me?”

“Yep,” Rainbow said. “The whole transport network is monitored by…” — she searched for the words — “responsive virtual intelligences.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means they’re always listening, and they respond,” Rainbow explained.

Leaf looked up at the ceiling of the lift. “So … if I, like, if I say anything good about the White Fang, are they gonna call the cops on me?”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going to say anything good about the White Fang?”

“No,” Leaf said. “I’m not political. I just … I don’t like the idea of a bunch of computers spying on me.”

“It’s for everyone’s own good,” Rainbow said.

“That’s what my mum says,” Leaf muttered.

“They’re only here to help,” Rainbow insisted. “Like … How do I get to Blue North?”

“To reach the northern quadrant of the Blue Zone, disembark on level seven and take any north-bound Sinclair Line train headed for Morden.”

“See?” Rainbow said. “Helpful.”

“Mmm,” Leaf murmured wordlessly. “It’s not … it’s not everywhere, is it?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “Only in the transport facilities, although other public buildings might have something like it.”

“But they’ll let me smoke in the corridors, right?”

“Yeah, sure, if you really want to.”

“Thank gods, because I’m going to start shaking,” Leaf muttered. “The only place I could smoke on the airship was on the open deck, which was also freezing.” She paused for a second. “Rarity … can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you dressed like Shadow Spade?”

Rarity gasped. “Why, thank you for noticing, darling! It’s nice to see someone who comprehends.” She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “Yes, I’ve come up with a little line in tribute to Remnant’s greatest detective; are you a fan?”

“I’ve read the books; I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan,” Leaf said. “I wouldn’t dress up as her, but she is pretty cool. I like the way she doesn’t take any crap, you know? Her pride is such that you’ll treat her like a proud woman—”

“Or you’ll regret you ever saw her,” Rarity finished for her. “Yes, I, too, admire her confidence. The confidence to confront the crooked head of a mining corporation armed with nothing but the truth — and a gun in her purse.”

“That’s not confidence; that’s courage,” Rainbow said.

“Doesn’t one follow from the other?” Rarity asked.

“Not necessarily, I think you can be brave without being confident,” Rainbow replied.

“Who is this Shadow Spade?” Penny asked.

“A detective,” Rarity explained. “The greatest detective, walking the mean streets of Mantle in the years after the Great War — that’s another thing that appealed to me; for all the problems of that era, those postwar fashions really were something, no?”

“I prefer the ones where they’re more straight up mysteries,” Leaf said. “Not so … dark, you know, less of the grim Mantle stuff. Like Crooked House, where she goes to Argus and has to work out who murdered the rich grandfather before he could cut off all his children and grandchildren, or Elephants Can Remember, where…” She chuckled. “Okay, maybe I am a fan.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Rarity assured her, “nothing at all. I see what you mean, by the way; our friend Fluttershy also prefers the cosier mysteries, but I find that they lack just a little of … sharp edges of the more socially conscious novels. I think it has something to do with the author becoming very successful and spending so much more time hobnobbing with other wealthy and successful people … but then, who could possibly begrudge her that?”

“Plus, you know, it makes sense,” Leaf said. “Throughout the books, Spade becomes more successful so it makes sense that eventually she’s able to get out of Mantle and start working for a better class of client.”

“Oh, I understand it perfectly well — it’s an explicit parallel with the rise of Atlas after the war — I’m just not so much of a fan of it,” Rarity said.

“Fair enough,” Leaf said.

“Who here understands what they’re talking about?” Blake asked.

“Not me,” Penny admitted.

“I do, kind of,” Rainbow said. “Rarity and Fluttershy tried to get me to read these books, and … I didn’t like them. They’re not fair.”

Leaf looked at her. “What do you mean 'they’re not fair'?”

“She means she couldn’t work out who did it,” Rarity said.

“You’re not supposed to be able to work it out,” Leaf said.

“Then what’s the point?” Rainbow demanded. “What is the point of a mystery story where you can’t solve the mystery yourself ahead of time?”

“Don’t listen to her, Leaf darling,” Rarity insisted.

“It’s okay, Rainbow Dash,” Penny said. “I’ve been trying to read The Mistraliad, but I’m not getting it either.”

“Really?” Blake asked. “That’s … very ambitious.”

“What’s The Mistraliad?” asked Leaf.

“It’s the foundational Mistralian epic,” Blake explained. “A tale of arms and passion.”

“It’s also Pyrrha’s favourite book,” Penny said. “I thought that if we read it, I could talk about it. But I’m afraid I’m not enjoying it very much; it’s hard to understand all the words, and everyone is so … so mean to one another.”

“You want my advice, Penny?” Rainbow said. “Try The Song of Olivia; it’s Ruby’s favourite, and it’s way easier to read, and the language is a lot simpler. I took a look at it for our essay we did for Doctor Oobleck, and it’s actually really good. She’s like a soldier in shining armour.”

“But isn’t that really hard to come by?” Penny said. “That’s why Dove’s gift meant so much.”

“In hard copy, sure,” Rainbow agreed, “but there’s an e-version that … okay, the pictures are placed right on top of the text sometimes, which is really unhelpful, but you can read eighty, ninety percent of it just fine, and depending on how you tab back and forth across the pages, you can reveal stuff from under the pictures as well — the placements change; I think it’s just really badly formatted. Anyway, the point is that you can read enough of it to talk about it with Ruby.”

“Okay, now I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Leaf said.

Rainbow laughed. “Sorry. So, anyway, what kind of job are you looking for here in Atlas?”

“I don’t know, really,” Leaf admitted. “Whatever I can get. What kind of job should I look for?”

“That depends,” Rarity said. “Do you have any skills that you could put to work?”

Leaf shrugged. “I can ride motorcycles pretty well, does that count?”

“It … is a skill, certainly, although I’m not certain that it’s an employable one.”

“You could be a delivery driver?” Rainbow suggested.

“Oh, no, that’s a terrible job,” Rarity declared.

“At least it is a job,” Rainbow countered.

“If you call having to be on-call at all hours to dash to and fro, collecting or dropping off, and all for a pittance a job, then yes, I suppose it is,” Rarity murmured.

“It would be an idea, except I don’t have a bike,” Leaf said. “I sold it for a little extra money to get here, and I don’t think I have enough to get another one right now.”

“Well, what do you like?” asked Blake.

“Motorcycle racing?” Leaf suggested.

“You have to be pretty good at that to do it professionally, and you still need a bike,” Rainbow said.

“But don’t worry,” Rarity said. “I’m sure that, with our help, you’ll come up with something.”

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened to let them out on the seventh level of the Blue Zone.

The Atlesian underground was nothing like Mountain Glenn; when they were constructing Atlas, nobody had had the idea to hollow out the whole rock and build a parallel city underneath with big towers and a lot of space overhead and just copy everything a normal city would have, just above ground. Here in Atlas, everything was corridors; tunnels had been dug through the rock and stone, but they were just that: tunnels. Everything in the Underground was one storey; there were no towers, no houses, there were just doors opening to reveal shops or apartments, none of which were any taller than the rest.

Which wasn’t to say that everything had just been left with the rock hanging out, no; all the tunnels had been finished with steel or stone, so that the edges were smoothed off, all the walls inside were proper walls like you’d get in any other building; if it wasn’t for the lack of natural light or windows, you wouldn’t be able to tell you were underground at all.

It was warm down here; it got warmer the further down you got, it got warmer, and it got a little louder too, as you could hear the thrumming of the immense dust engines that kept Atlas in the air. The corridors were illuminated with long tubes running along the edges of the ceiling, giving off a soft blue light.

Rarity led them to the nearest subway station on the Sinclair Line — the trains there were blue as well — and they got off one stop before changing onto the Sheridan Line heading west. They got off that train at one of the last stops, before getting another big elevator down to level seventeen of the Grey Zone.

They didn’t have this lift all to themselves, but it still wasn’t too crowded, and it emptied out as most of the people they were sharing the lift with got off before they reached Grey Seventeen. Honestly, the whole Underground was pretty quiet at this time of day; while there were some shops and businesses down beneath the surface — casual restaurants for the inhabitants, grocery stores, conveniences — most people worked up on the surface, in the towers of steel and glass, under the sun, returning underground only to sleep and possibly spend their off-work hours.

Rarity was one of those, after all: her boutique wasn’t underground; she just lived there.

In the Grey Zone, the lights were not grey, because that would have been too dingy and depressing to contemplate; in fact, it was brighter down here than it was in the Blue Zone. Brighter and warmer too, although not uncomfortably warm — well, not unless you had wrapped up for the surface, in which case, you might want to go home and change promptly before you sweated too much. The engines hummed down here in the deep, and the walls of the corridors seemed to vibrate with the humming.

There were a few people down here, and a few robots too, with claws at the end of one arm and bin bags clutched in their other hand, or else the ever-present mouse droids. At one point, they had to squeeze around one of those big walking batteries on legs as it waddled past, making little ‘gonk’ noises as it did so.

Still, collectively, they all kept the place clean; that was what Rainbow always appreciated about the Underground whenever she went down to visit Rarity: how clean it all was, how looked after; there wasn’t any graffiti on the walls; there wasn’t any mess. Now, the fact that there were robots taking care of the place meant that it didn’t say as much about the people who lived down here as it did about the folks who lived in Low Town, but she’d take it over the grime of Mantle any day.

“Does anyone else want a cigarette?” Leaf asked.

She was answered by a chorus in the negative.

“Sunset didn’t want one either,” Leaf pointed out. “Is this just a health thing, where you all have to keep fit to hunt grimm?”

“In my particular case, I’d rather not stink up my apartment,” Rarity said. “Something which you might bear in mind yourself, once we get there.”

They arrived outside of apartment 675, easily identifiable by the number on the grey metallic door, and although the doors on either side were pretty close, nobody commented upon what that might mean for Leaf.

Rather, as they approached, Rarity gestured towards the electronic reader on the wall.

“If you’ve made all the arrangements in advance, and nothing has gone wrong,” she said, “then you’ll be able to swipe your scroll here to get inside, and so long as you keep up with the rent, you’ll always be able to swipe your scroll to get inside.”

“What if something has gone wrong?” Leaf asked.

“Then we’ve wasted a bit of a trip, and we’ll have to take you to see whoever you rented the apartment from to get it all sorted out,” Rarity admitted.

“Right,” Leaf murmured. “I thought there might be someone here to … give me a key or something.”

“Oh no, no, no, darling,” Rarity said. “This is Atlas, after all.”

Leaf smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, isn’t it.” She took a step forward and took her scroll out of the pocket of her puffer jacket, holding it up to the reader beside the door.

The door slid open, to reveal — sort of, the lights were off so it was kind of dark in there — a small room, about the size of an Atlas dorm room, maybe a little bit smaller, with a bed built into the wall on the left hand side and a door at the back leading into the en suite toilet and bathroom. On the right side of the room was a sink, with a small worksurface where you could put a microwave or a hotplate or something — although there wasn’t one there right at the moment. In fact, aside from the bed, there wasn’t a lot in the apartment at all. It clearly wasn’t somewhere that came fully furnished.

“It’s a box,” Penny said.

“It’s not that bad,” Blake said, not really sounding as though she believed it. “It’s … cosy.”

“It’s tiny!” Penny declared.

“Yeah,” Leaf said, “it is.” She stepped inside, and the lights flickered on, illuminating the smallness and the emptiness. “But you know what? It’s mine.” She turned to face them all, spreading her arms out wide as she dumped her bag on the floor. “It’s mine! This is my place! My space! And yeah, sure, there isn’t a lot of space to go around here, but all the same, it’s mine! No Mum coming in whenever she feels like it, no more having to follow anyone else’s rules. This is my place, and only mine.”

“That’s the spirit, darling,” Rarity said. “And remember: in Atlas, the only way is up.”

Leaf grinned. “I know that Sunset thought I was a complete moron doing this,” she said. “Coming to Atlas, running away, she thought that I should stay home and stick with my mum, play it safe, not take any risks. And I guess it must sound pretty stupid to you guys, coming here without a job and only a little money and … no idea what sort of job I should get, but … I’m not stupid. I’m not completely stupid. I knew that I wasn’t going to be moving into a palace when I got here. You get what you pay for, and I’m … not paying very much. But, you know, once I start making money, I’ll be able to leave this place behind for somewhere better.”

“That’s … still optimistic,” Blake murmured.

“But true, darling,” Rarity insisted. “Very true.”

“It’s why I left,” Leaf said. “I don’t want to live my whole life knowing that each day is just going to be more of the same dull nothing for no reason. That’s what my ex didn’t get, that’s why I had to … anyway, the point is that I’m glad to have something to work towards.”

Rarity smiled. “Why don’t we get something to eat and we can discuss what kind of job you could get?”

“Yeah, sure,” Leaf agreed. “Where are we going to go?”

“There was that burger place just around the corner that we passed on the way here,” Rainbow suggested.

Rarity gave her a little bit of stinkeye at that, but come on, they didn’t really want to make more elevator rides and subway journeys just to get to somewhere nice. They wanted … well, they wanted fast food, in every sense.

And so they went to the Snowburger around the corner, which was kind of small, like a lot of things in the Underground, and clearly more meant for stuff to be taken away than eaten there, but it did have two small tables, one on either side of the door in front of the counter, and since that was more than Leaf’s new apartment had, the five of them took one of the tables and put their plastic trays of burgers and fries down in the middle of it.

It was a little bit crowded, but it was better than all eating standing up or sitting on the bed.

Rainbow started to unwrap her burger from its paper wrapping; to Leaf, she said, “You sure that you don’t want more than that bag of nuggets? You don’t get a lot of them.”

“It’s fine,” Leaf assured her. “Smoking kind of kills my appetite anyway. I don’t feel like a lot.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said.

She took a bite out of her burger, and for a moment, there was quiet around the table as everyone chewed on theirs. These Snowburgers weren’t the best, and Rainbow honestly preferred Burger Bar because they didn’t put so much dressing on the burgers, but it filled your stomach, and it didn’t taste bad, so that was that.

Plus, the fries were the best you could get in a fast food joint in Atlas.

She swallowed. “So,” she said, “you ran away to Atlas to get away from your parents?”

Leaf swallowed a nugget. “From my mum,” she replied. “My dad … mum kicked Dad out a while back, moved in with Daniel afterwards. Daniel and his two kids. Now, I don’t want you to think that I hate them or anything, but … it’s Angie, you know, she’s so put together and talented, and it’s all ‘why can’t you be more like your stepsister?’ Because we don’t share the same genes, okay; she was born better than me, so can you just leave me alone?” Leaf sighed. “This probably makes me sound—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it; it’s fine,” Rainbow assured her. “I wanted to get away from my parents too.”

“Me three,” Blake murmured.

“And me,” Penny said.

Everyone looked at Rarity, who was rather fastidiously plucking a chip from out of the paper bag.

She looked around, blinking owlishly. “I don’t know what you’re all looking at me for; I get along with my parents,” she said. “They don’t understand me, it’s true, but they understand that I’m doing what I want and that I’m happy, and that’s all that matters for both of us.”

“Lucky you,” Leaf said. “Really, you’re really lucky, you get that, right?”

Rarity smiled. “I’m well aware, yes, but thank you for reminding me.”

The corners of Leaf’s mouth jerked upwards for a second. “What about the rest of you?”

“My father wanted me to do what he wanted,” Penny said.

“My parents and I … had a falling out,” Blake explained.

“My parents praised me too much.”

Leaf blinked. “Okay, one of those things is not like the others.”

“Yeah, I know; it makes me cringe looking back; I didn’t know how good I had it,” Rainbow admitted.

“But Rainbow isn’t the only one to look back and realise that, as much as we didn’t realise it at the time, our parents had our best interests at heart,” Blake said,

Leaf’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me this isn’t leading up to some kind of ‘call your mom because it’s not actually her fault’?”

“I wouldn’t presume to know your circumstances,” Blake said. “I suppose I’m just warning you that we might not understand them as well as you might have hoped.”

Leaf shrugged. “And what about you, Penny?”

“My father … my father cares about me, in his own way,” Penny admitted, “but that doesn’t mean that everything he did is suddenly okay, and it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to do what I think is best for me, not what he thinks is best for me.”

Leaf nodded. “Exactly, see? Penny gets it.” She popped another nugget into her mouth. “I know that my mum doesn’t hate me. I know that … she probably is worried about where I’ve gone, and I’m probably being a bit of a jerk by not answering any of her messages, but … she wants to control every part of my life. For my own good, she says, but what’s good about making me miserable? What’s good about making me do things that I don’t want to do, and that sounds childish, but it isn’t? I’m willing to work, I know that Atlas doesn’t owe me anything, but it’s my choice. I’ll choose what I do, without someone over my shoulder telling me that’s too dangerous or that’s not good enough or why couldn’t you have applied yourself in school so you could aim higher than that?” She paused. “Speaking of which, how many jobs are done by robots in this city? I mean it looks cool, but does that mean that there are no cleaning jobs or anything like that?”

“I’ve never seen any,” Rainbow admitted. “How about you, Rarity?”

“It is androids, I’m afraid,” Rarity murmured. “Or else people taking on the work as part of their other duties. Coco and I clean the boutique before closing, but that doesn’t create a job for anyone else. That being said, there are plenty of things that robots don’t or can’t do, even if we’re talking about entry level: shop assistant, waitress, that sort of thing.”

“What about the military?” Leaf asked. “I kind of always wanted to go to one of your academies and become a huntress, but I’m too old for that now, especially since I didn’t go to combat school or anything. But what about the regular military; you don’t need any qualifications for that, right?”

“It depends on which branch of the military you want to sign up for,” Rainbow said. “You want to be a pilot, you want to be aircrew, you want to do most of the jobs on a warship, then you need to have passed your sixteen plus exams. If you want to do certain jobs like cook, or if you want to serve in the infantry, then you don’t need any qualifications, but you do need to be able to read and write, and if you don’t have the exams, you’ll never be considered for officer training. Also, infantry service is longer than any other branch signing on for the first time.”

“How long?” Leaf asked.

“Eight years for the infantry compared to six years for pretty much anything else,” Rainbow said. “Of course, a lot of people sign on again after their initial term expires, especially officers, so it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference.”

Leaf nodded. “Eight years,” she murmured. “That’s a lot of time for something that I might not like or be any good at.”

“It’s a worthy cause,” Rainbow told her. “But yeah, you’re right; eight years is a long time; there’s no getting around that.”

Rarity delicately ate another fry. “Do you have a CV?”

“Yeah,” Leaf said. “There’s not a lot on it, but I’ve got one.”

“And I think that I saw an employment agency a little way down the corridor as we were coming down from the elevator,” Rarity said. “Why don’t you see if you can get on their books, and maybe they’ll have a job for you, if only one you can take until you find something you prefer?”

The others couldn’t exactly go in with Leaf to what was essentially a sort of job interview, so they waited outside the Proactive Recruitment agency office while Leaf, having brought up her sparse CV upon her scroll, went in.

They waited quietly, at first at least, the silence broken only by the humming of the engines down below.

“Rarity?” Penny asked.

“Yes, darling?”

“How did you get your job?”

Rarity chuckled. “In a rather old-fashioned way, I must admit. We’re forever being told that you’re not supposed to just walk into a place and ask if they’re hiring anymore, but … that’s what I did: I walked into the boutique and asked if Prim Hemline could use an assistant. Of course, this was only after the last dozen places I’d tried had told me to get out, but nevertheless, I persisted. It wasn’t as though I had anything better to do.”

“Do you know why it worked that time and not before?” asked Blake.

“Luck?” suggested Rarity. “Perhaps Prim was simply feeling generous that day. She put me through my paces, asked me to arrange a display, tested my knowledge of fashion and technique. And then she agreed to let me start before she’d even checked my references. Believe me, I know how fortunate I am.”

“What would you have done if it hadn’t worked?” Penny asked. “If you hadn’t been able to find a job?”

“Well, I could always have applied for Atlas,” Rarity replied. “I am a graduate of Canterlot Combat School, after all.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow mumbled wordlessly but with clear disapproval.

Rarity chuckled. “Yes, I thought that might get a reaction out of you.”

“You know, people who didn’t know you might almost think that you don’t like the huntsman academies,” Blake observed.

“What?” Rainbow snapped. “What are you talking about? I go to a huntsman academy!”

“That you don’t want your friends to go to,” Blake pointed out.

“It’s not just her,” Rarity said. “It was actually Applejack who made the decision for me that I wasn’t going to go to Atlas.” Rarity’s voice slipped into a very bad impression of Applejack’s distinctive accent. “’Now listen up, Rarity, you ain’t got no call to be risking your neck out on the battlefield, you hear me? We both know you ain’t the type for it, and we both know that you don’t want to be the type for it neither.’” Rarity’s usual accent returned. “The irony, of course, being that Applejack doesn’t really want to be the type for it herself.”

“She isn’t?” Penny asked.

“Nah,” Rainbow acknowledged. “Applejack would much rather spend all her time on the family farm, pushing a plough or feeding the pigs.”

“But she doesn’t,” Blake murmured. “Why?”

“Courage?” Rarity suggested. “Duty?”

“But why is it a burden that she has to bear against her will, but you aren’t allowed to take up even if you wanted to?” Blake clarified.

“Because Applejack’s strong,” Rainbow declared. “The strongest person we know, and not just physically either. Maybe she doesn’t enjoy the huntress life or the military life, she doesn’t love the fight, but … but she’s got a talent for it, and so … so she puts that talent to work. For her sister, for her family, for all of us.”

“Because if somebody has to, it might as well be her,” Rarity said softly.

“Because that’s who Applejack is,” Rainbow added. “Someone who takes the burden on her shoulders.”

“Like you?”

“Well,” Rainbow said, looking away, “I try to be.”

Blake smiled out of one corner of her mouth, before she looked at Rarity once more and asked, “And you … you seriously considered it, becoming a huntress?”

“I did,” Rarity confirmed. “There are times … there are times when the world seems very safe and secure, and then there are other times when it seems as though Atlas has need of every sword that can be laid at its feet, and at those times, I think, well … why not mine? The former times have been predominant over the latter recently, but … I still have my sword, and I’m not out of practice in how to use it, if need be.”

Blake grinned. “And so, feeling that way, it didn’t bother you that Rainbow and Applejack took it upon themselves to make that choice for you?”

“They wanted what was best for me,” Rarity said, “and while I can appreciate Leaf’s desire for freedom, the fact that my friends wanted to give me the benefit of their, admittedly heavy-handed, wisdom and advice didn’t offend me. The truth is that it would be rather hypocritical of me to take offence at their not wanting me to go to war; I feel the same way about Twilight. We’re none of us very good at minding our own business. Of course it … it does leave me in the position of waiting.”

“'Waiting'?” Penny repeated.

“Waiting to see if my friends will come home hale and hearty or in body bags,” Rarity said. “In that sense, I envy you, Blake: you get to die alongside your friends, rather than live without them.”

Blake shook her head. “No.”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. “No?”

“No,” Blake said again, putting one hand on Rainbow’s shoulder. “I get to make sure my friends come back.”

“Hey hey hey, I saved your life in Mountain Glenn, remember?” Rainbow reminded her.

“And you do the same for me,” Blake added.

“That’s right, I do,” Rainbow muttered.

Rarity smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

Just at that moment, Leaf emerged, beaming.

“Great news!” she cried.

“Did you get a job already?” asked Penny.

“No,” Leaf admitted. “The agency said that they didn’t have anything for me, but after she’d talked to me, the woman said that there was another agency, a specialist agency, that would like to talk to me, so she set me up with an interview with them tomorrow.”

“And they found you a job?” Rainbow asked. “Already?”

“I know, it’s great, isn’t it?” Leaf replied.

It was tomorrow — it was the next day — and Rainbow sat on Leaf’s bed, the foam mattress crinkling beneath her; it was just the two of them; Rainbow had swung by to check up on Leaf that evening before heading back to Atlas in time for curfew.

“Yeah, that’s really good,” Rainbow agreed. “I don’t know whether to say lucky you or good on you, but either way, congratulations. So, what’s the job?”

“I’m going to be working for the SDC,” Leaf said.

“Really?” Rainbow murmured, some of the enthusiasm deflating out of her.

Leaf frowned. “What’s wrong with the SDC?”

The memory of Adam’s branded face flashed in front of Rainbow’s eyes. That doesn’t follow; I’m sure they don’t recruit the people they’re going to brand like cattle through recruitment agencies. “Nothing, I just … they don’t always have the best record for treating their employees that well, and … faunus—”

“I need something,” Leaf reminded her, “and they can’t be that bad. I mean, they employ people all over Remnant; who’d work for them if they were that terrible?”

People who didn’t have any other choice. People like you. “People who need jobs?”

“Okay, that’s fair, but I read the contract … some of it,” Leaf said. “It’s six months' work; maybe it won’t be great fun, but if it’s really that bad, I’ll quit and come back here.”

“'Come back'?” Rainbow asked. “Where are you going?”

“Out to the mines … somewhere,” Leaf said. “They did say where, but I … it’s not Mantle, it’s … I didn’t recognise it. It must be somewhere out in Solitas. The point is that I’m going to be living out there for the six months, accommodation provided. That comes out of my paycheque, but … there’s not much alternative, is there?”

“I guess not,” Rainbow agreed. “So you’re going to be a miner?”

“Not necessarily; the lady at the agency said that they need all kinds of people,” Leaf said. “Not just miners, but clerks, cooks, porters. I thought robots could have done that, but it seems they need people to carry stuff and load it onto trains.”

“Sometimes people are easier to direct than robots,” Rainbow said.

Six months. It’s only six months.

Six months in the middle of nowhere controlled by the SDC.

The SDC that…

This wouldn’t be bothering her if it wasn’t for that brand. Six months? Six months was nothing. So the SDC owned her — okay, that was a really unfortunate turn of phrase — for six months; Atlas owned Rainbow for four years, and more than that if she then signed on as a specialist. Atlas would own Blake once she transferred. There was nothing evil or wrong about letting someone else, or an institution, have power over you, provided it was your choice and you felt as though you got something out of it, even if that something was money.

You could argue that any job involved letting someone else have control over you, if only during work hours.

This wouldn’t be bothering her if it wasn’t for that brand.

But she had seen the brand. She didn’t know how common it was, she didn’t know how rare it was, she didn’t know … she didn’t know anything; she only knew that she had seen it with her own eyes, she knew that it went on, she knew all the leads that might have revealed more had been severed, and she knew that it made her skin crawl at the thought of someone working for the SDC.

She had agreed to look after Leaf, on Sunset’s behalf. It would be a pretty poor way of doing that if she let her get branded by the SDC, but on the other hand, how likely was it that they recruited people to be brutalised like that in the way that Leaf had been recruited? A lot of people worked for the SDC, and they didn’t have their faces branded. It just didn’t happen for them.

It was, she supposed, rare enough that it wasn’t public knowledge that it was going on. Which was … comforting, she supposed.

And it was Leaf’s choice. If she wanted to take what was, to all appearances, a perfectly legitimate job offer, then who was Rainbow to stand in her way?

Especially considering that Leaf really didn’t like people telling her what she could and couldn’t do.

“Listen, good luck out there,” Rainbow said. “But will you do me a favour?”

“Sure, what?”

“Give me a call when you get there, and every so often, let me know how you’re doing,” Rainbow said. “That way I can tell Sunset and Ruby that you’re okay, maybe even that you’re thriving, and that I’m keeping an eye on you like I said I would, and Sunset won’t get mad at me.”

Leaf laughed. “I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble with Sunset; she seems like she can be a bit of a pain. Sure, I’ll call you, and you can call them, and I’m sure that we’ll both have nothing but good news to report. I mean, everything’s turned out great for me so far, right?”

Distress Call (New)

Distress Call

Rainbow's scroll buzzed.

It was one-thirty in the morning.

Rainbow Dash was not a morning person. She never had been, but with discipline and by virtue of polishing her boots and pressing her uniform the night before, she could dig deep and present herself for an early morning inspection with the appearance of a bright eye and a bushy tail.

Not a real tail, in her case, but you know.

But there was early morning inspection hours, and there was one-thirty in the morning.

Rainbow groaned groggily, wordless mumbling sounds emerging from her mouth as she blinked her eyes. It was dark in the dorm room; the only light was coming from her scroll as it vibrated on the desk on the other side of the room.

Rainbow rolled over and waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

"Rainbow Dash," Penny said, "I think someone's trying to call you."

She sounded irritatingly alert and awake, but of course Penny didn't need sleep, did she?

It occurred to Rainbow that she would need to find some way of faking it at Beacon. Or else tell her teammates, whoever they turned out to be, that she had absolute insomnia and simply could not sleep under any … no, that would kill you, wouldn't it? She'd have to tell them she had insomnia at night but that she napped during the day somewhere she wouldn't be found.

Or she could tell them the truth, if she trusted them and it was allowed.

Or she could throw Sunset off the cliff and take her place, because the only way Penny was going to break into Team SAPR was over Sunset's dead body.

Rainbow made a note to herself not to do much thinking at this time of the morning; the ideas she came up with were stupid.

The scroll kept buzzing, which wasn't making Rainbow's incipient headache any better. She felt groggy, her mouth was full of gunk, her eyes needed rubbing.

And who in Remnant was trying to call her at one-thirty in the morning? No one she knew. She hoped it was no one she knew. It better be no one she knew.

Unless Atlas was actually under attack and it was all hands on deck to repel boarders, then no one had any business calling her at this hour. And she knew it wasn't an attack because her scroll would have been blaring a siren.

Not to mention she would have heard the sirens outside.

It wasn't any of her friends either, since it wasn't using any of their ringtones. It wasn't anyone who had a custom ringtone set.

It was probably some Mistralian call centre trying to sell her something.

Or it could be that Gilda had forgotten the time difference and needed another favour.

"Rainbow Dash?" Penny asked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm getting up; I'm going to answer it," Rainbow said. "Mind your head, Penny."

Rainbow rolled out of bed quite literally, landing on her feet with a thump. She rubbed her eyes with one hand as she staggered across the room, not bothering to switch on the lights as she picked up her scroll.

It was a voice only call. Rainbow was too tired to speculate on what that might mean.

She answered it.

"Rainbow Dash? Thank the gods, it took you long enough!"

"Leaf?" Rainbow said. "What…? Do you know what time—?"

"Rainbow Dash, I need your help," Leaf said, the words tumbling out of the scroll. "They took my scroll; I had to sneak into the foreman's office to call you, but there are patrols, and I don't know when someone will come."

"'Patrols'?" Rainbow repeated. "Who took your scroll, what—?"

"This place isn't what I thought it was," Leaf said. "It's not what they said it was, they took our scrolls, they took our clothes; there are people who have been here for years, and from what they say, they're the lucky ones. Rainbow, they mark us! It hasn't happened to me yet, but I've seen it on other people's bodies, on their faces; they … you have to come get me, please."

"I will," Rainbow promised. "Where are you?"

"I don't, um … let me see if I can find a—"

"What are you doing in here?" the voice that spoke over the line was gruff, male, and raised in anger.

"I was … looking for the bathroom, and I got lost."

"We'll see what the captain has to say about that; come on, you filthy animal."

"Let go of me!" Leaf cried. "Get your hands off—!"

The call went dead.

The dorm room, too, was silent.

Rainbow stood still, the scroll held in her hands for a minute, before she threw it down onto the desk and let out a wordless growling of frustration as she kicked the wall.

She had … she should have … she should never have let this happen! She knew that the SDC was up to no good, she knew about Adam, she knew what they did, and yet, she had let Leaf sign up to work for them anyway. She had seen what the SDC was capable of, she had heard from Cadance about the silencing of witnesses, and yet, she had let Leaf place herself in their power. She had told herself that … what? That they didn't have very many slaves? That not everyone who worked for them ended up with a brand on their face? That Leaf had signed a contract, so everything would be okay?

What an idiot. And now…

The memory of Adam's face, with those three letters seared into his flesh, rose to the forefront of her mind.

"Rainbow Dash," Penny murmured, "what's going on?"

Rainbow closed her eyes for a moment. Leaf's call had banished tiredness, though she would rather have been tired and not got the call.

"The Schnee Dust Company is … involved in some bad stuff, Penny," she said. "They … they're mistreating people, and it seems like Leaf is caught up in it."

"But we're going to rescue her right?" Penny asked. "I mean, you promised."

"I did," Rainbow agreed. "And I meant it. We … I didn't want to get you involved, but—"

"But I am involved," Penny said. "Because Leaf is a friend."

Rainbow smiled tightly, although she didn't know if Penny could see it with the lights off.

"No, I'm not asking you to sit this one out," she agreed. It was a lot harder to do when Penny was right there as the call. "No, we are going to go to work, we're going to find Leaf, and we're going to save her and everyone else who's in trouble alongside her. Because … because that's what we do: we save lives, we say nothing's gonna hurt you tonight."

Penny was silent for a moment. "So how do we find her?"

Rainbow thought about it for a moment. "We ask a friend on the inside."

Tap.

Tap.

The eyes of Weiss Schnee opened onto darkness. Complete darkness, thanks to the excellent quality of the curtains and the fact that it was … she checked the time on her scroll which sat by her bedside.

It was two-fifteen at night.

Well, technically, it was morning, she supposed, but it hardly felt right to describe it thus. It was dark out, it was an uncivil hour to be either up or out, it was night time.

She wondered why she had woken up at this time. For all that she was not too pleased to be home, that hasn't manifested itself in uneasy sleep or restless nights. Quite the opposite, in fact; she had slept more soundly since returning from Beacon than she had done before she left for Beacon.

She credited Beacon itself with that, or rather, the knowledge that it was waiting for her. She might be back here for a little while; she had somewhere to go. More than that, she had a path to walk, a path that led her out of isolation.

So why had she woken up? What had disturbed her rest?

Tap.

Ah, yes. That.

There was a sound, and it sounded as though it was coming from the bedroom window.

Tap.

Weiss sat up, raising her head off the nigh-incomparably soft pillow — whatever else might be said about this house, it could not be denied that the furnishings were first rate — and looked towards the window.

"Lights," she murmured to the darkness.

The lights came on, springing to life in all of their intensity.

Weiss squinted against the sudden brightness. "Brightness nought point four," she said, and the lights dimmed to a level which her unaccustomed eyes could better accommodate.

Tap.

What was that sound? A bird, tapping its beak against the glass. A very persistent one, if so.

Annoyingly persistent.

Weiss threw back the covers and got out of bed, her pale blue nightgown falling down below her knees to completely cover her as she walked towards the window. Weiss tugged idly at the lace collar around her neck before she threw back the curtains.

It was night, or at least it was that part of the morning early enough to be considered night, and being so, it was dark out, but with the curtains drawn, there was enough moonlight for Weiss to be able to see out across the spacious gardens of Schnee Manor.

Her grandfather had loved the gardens. He had created them for himself, and in his latter days, with his health infirm and his great expeditions behind him, he had busied himself with pottering about the grounds, tending to his hollyhocks.

Father didn't have time for the garden, and much of it had fallen into … not disrepair, exactly — the lawns and the hedges were well tended to — but they were only there to look well-tended, preferably from some distance away; there was no care or passion put into it. Not much colour either; the flowers had gone, too much effort to maintain.

Weiss's mother used part of the grounds for her own purposes; it was home to a menagerie of exotic creatures she had collected from all over Remnant. Some of them she had captured herself, others she had paid for; either way, she brought them here and put them in cages so that she might look at them from time to time and admire the colour and the thickness of their fur, the beauty of their shape, the sleekness of their form.

Weiss could not believe that the pleasure Mother got from her gazing was worth the misery endured by the creatures in their cages.

She knew what it was to be confined, and it was not pleasant.

Tap.

There was no bird in front of Weiss's window, tapping on the glass with its beak. Instead, someone was throwing pebbles up from below to strike said window. A small pile was developing upon the balcony.

Weiss opened the full length window and, stepping around the pebbles in her bare feet, stepped out onto the little balcony.

Blake and Rainbow Dash stood down in the garden below, accompanied by Penny Polendina, Rainbow Dash's — exuberant, if Weiss remembered her correctly — teammate. It looked like Rainbow was just about to throw another pebble at her.

Penny waved.

"What are you doing here?" Weiss hissed, her voice hushed so as not to wake her father. It was not likely they would, but if they did, then Weiss would not be returning to Beacon, and all three down below would be arrested for trespassing. "Do you know what time it is?"

Rainbow glanced at Blake and whispered something.

Blake shook her head.

Rainbow looked back at Weiss and put one hand to her ear — her human ear — miming not being able to hear her.

Weiss frowned and spoke a little louder, though not much. "What do you want at this time of night?"

Penny shook her head. Rainbow still had one hand at her ear.

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Come up here!" she hissed, gesturing towards herself with one hand.

They might not have been able to hear her, but they got the message of her actions, at least. Weiss took a step back as Blake drew her sword from across her back.

The black sword transformed smoothly into a pistol, bound by a length of black ribbon to a hook. Hook and ribbon alike whirled in Blake's hand before she cast them off, flinging the hook upwards to catch the edge of Weiss' balcony rail. Blake leapt, running lightly up the wall, pulling herself up the ribbon until, with a final hop, she cleared the rail and landed nimbly on the balcony.

"Weiss," she said softly. "It feels a little late for 'good evening' and a little early for 'good morning,' doesn't it?"

"It feels a little early for any of this," murmured Weiss.

Blake smiled slightly, but made no reply.

Penny was the next one up, clearing the distance on a single jump which carried her up over the balcony with time and space enough for a showy backflip before she landed, a little too heavily for Weiss's liking, upon the balcony proper.

"Hello, Weiss Schnee!" Penny said in an enthusiastic stage whisper. "It's nice to meet you again!"

"I would say likewise under different circumstances," Weiss said softly. "Could you please keep your voice down?"

"Sorry."

Rainbow Dash also jumped, eschewing the jetpack that she was wearing — and a good thing too, considering the noise it probably made — and although she didn't jump as high as Penny, she jumped high enough to grab the balcony rail and pull herself the rest of the way.

"Your security sucks, by the way," Rainbow said. "Do you even have security?"

"Rainbow Dash," Blake murmured.

"It might be someone less well-intentioned than us, next time," Rainbow pointed out.

"There are supposed to be some androids patrolling the grounds," Weiss said. "Evidently, there aren't enough of them." She paused long enough to scowl. "But that isn't really the point, is it? The point is, although I certainly don't object to seeing you again, this is hardly the sort of hour at which one expects to receive visitors."

"We know," Blake said, "and we're sorry."

"But we need your help," Rainbow added.

Weiss's brow remained firmly furrowed. "Come inside," she whispered, turning away from them and walking into her bedroom, leaving the cool of the night air behind.

The others followed. Rainbow, the last one in, shut the window after her.

Weiss walked across the room to where a red dressing gown, trimmed with white fur, hung on a hook. She lifted it off the hook and draped it around herself.

As she was tying the sash around her waist, Weiss turned to face the others once again.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"A friend of ours," Rainbow said, "took a job with the SDC."

"But tonight, she called Rainbow Dash for help," Penny said. "She said that they'd taken her scroll and her clothes, and she had to sneak into someone's office to call! Then someone found her and dragged her away."

Weiss stared at them, silently for a moment. "They took her scroll?" she repeated. "Why would they…?" She trailed off. "You think that—?"

"We don't know," Blake said. "But it doesn't sound good, does it?"

"No," Weiss admitted. "No, it does not."

She thought about what she'd been told, about the branding, the mutilation. A part of her still didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to believe that the Schnee name, her grandfather's name, the name that he had made a byword not only for dust or wealth but also for probity in business, could have fallen so far into such disgrace.

She didn't want to believe that her father, cold though he was, cruel though he could be, was such a monster.

But, as Blake said, it did not sound good.

"What can I do?" she asked.

"We don't know where our friend is," Rainbow said. "We were hoping that you could help us access the records and find her."

"Access … you mean the Schnee Dust Company records?" asked Weiss.

"That is why we're here," Blake murmured.

"I…" Weiss trailed off for a moment.

They were talking about employment records, details of work placement, where someone was based, what job they were doing. She didn't have access to any of that, just because she was the heiress … she didn't work for the company yet. She could attempt to browbeat an employee into giving her the information, as she had done before when working with the VPD, but not at this time; all the offices would be closed.

"What makes you think that what you want to know exists on the records?" Weiss asked. "If this friend is being held against her will, then—"

"She signed a contract," Rainbow said. "I think there must be some part of this that's legit, a real job. Obviously, some of it isn't, but … the only other idea I have is to break into the office of the first job agency to find out the name of the second agency to break into their offices; I was hoping that this would be faster."

Weiss pursed her lips. "So if I mentioned waiting until morning—"

"Leaf is in trouble now," Rainbow said. "The longer we wait … I don't know what'll happen to her."

"Leaf," Weiss repeated softly. "Is that her name?"

"Yes," Penny said. "She only just got here."

"What a fine welcome to Atlas," Weiss muttered. She glanced at Blake. "Is this changing how you feel at all?"

"I always knew what this company was," Blake said quietly, "but I also know the company is not the kingdom."

"No, thank goodness," Weiss murmured. "You could ask Councillor Cadenza to subpoena the records you're looking for."

"Assuming they aren't destroyed," Rainbow said.

"Twilight then," Weiss suggested. "If she can—"

"So there's nothing that you can do?" Penny asked, sounding rather dispirited about it.

Weiss did not reply. In some ways, perhaps in most ways, there was nothing she could do. She simply didn’t have access, and everyone who could have given her the information they wanted was asleep. She could tell them, and it would be disappointing, but it would be true. They would have to find another way.

And there were other ways. Some of them were not without their drawbacks — going through public channels meant a risk that someone would catch wind of it and move their friend or delete her file if a file existed, and more surreptitious approaches had their own drawbacks, but there was no reason not to try them.

She could tell them that, and it would be true, but…

But they had come to her. They had come to her for help to fix a problem with the SDC. Her grandfather's company, her family name was being soiled by wickedness, and they had come to her to help them do something about it.

It felt wrong then, to simply turn them away, to apologise and spread her hands and say that there was nothing she could do. Even if there was nothing she could do, as a Schnee, she had a responsibility to try.

Else how could Blake trust that she really was the one to redeem the company and the name of Schnee?

"This … is a longshot," Weiss said. "But it's the only thing I can think of. Now follow me and be absolutely silent. If we're discovered … nobody make a sound, understand?"

They all nodded silently. Weiss waited a moment to speak until she realised that they had taken her instructions to begin immediately.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Just like that. Keep it up."

She led them out of her room and onto the corridor beyond. The lights were not completely extinguished here, but they were very dim, little lights that cast long shadows on the wall as the four of them emerged from what felt now like the relative security of Weiss's bedchamber.

Weiss was a Schnee, and as a Schnee, she had been taught and trained to maintain her posture at all times, even in battle; nevertheless, at this moment, Weiss found herself like to crouch down and slink like a thief.

She didn't of course; one had to keep one's dignity, and it would hardly have done her any good in any event, but … nevertheless, she felt the urge.

She led the three of them through the great corridors of the immense Manor. Rainbow and Penny seemed in awe of the sheer grandiose scale of the place, gawking like yokel tourists on their first trip into the big city, even as they followed in Weiss' footsteps. Blake seemed to be a little more sanguine about it, but a twitching of her feline ears betrayed a touch of nervousness.

Weiss couldn't blame her. She felt more than a touch of nervousness herself. If her father caught her—

Weiss was prevented from imagining the potential consequences of discovery by the sound of footsteps coming the other way down the corridor — from the direction of Father's study.

Weiss let out a gasp despite herself. Father was awake? He had been awake all this time, and now he was coming this way? Coming this way and about to catch her with three intruders in the house.

Weiss couldn't think. She couldn't plan, she couldn't look for an escape, there was … there was nothing. Shock and fear rooted her to the spot as the footsteps drew closer and closer, until Klein rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of them.

He stared at Weiss and her companions.

A smile spread out beneath his walrus moustache. His eyes turned bright blue as he winked at her.

And then he turned around and walked away.

Weiss let out the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding onto.

She remained where she was, and all the others too, until the sound of Klein's footsteps had died away; then and only then did she lead the others the test of the way to her father's study.

The door was unlocked, it opened at Weiss's touch, and she led them inside.

Compared with the oversized magnificence of the rest of the house, Father's study was rather ordinary in scale, being a little smaller than a Beacon dorm room. Behind the desk on the back wall hung a giant portrait of Father himself, from his younger days when his moustache was black — and rather thinner and more pencil-like than it was now — and his cheekbones were sharper, sat behind the desk. He actually looked rather dashing, like an old-fashioned movie star, a fact which almost excused the monstrous vanity of the thing and of its placement directly in view as one came through the door. The left-hand wall was completely covered with bookshelves, while a chess set, set up for a new game, sat upon a little table by the door.

This was where the SDC was run from. From this room, her father controlled the wealthiest conglomerate in Remnant. From this room, he wielded more power than any king of old or Councillor of today.

From this room, it seemed, he brutalised faunus and made them slaves in all but name.

Perhaps, at least, though Weiss yet hoped it was not so.

Weiss walked briskly — she had no desire to linger here — across the room and sat down behind Father's desk of polished walnut. Father's portrait looked down upon her, even as the others crowded around her.

Weiss opened up the terminal on the desk. Luckily, Father was still signed in to his account.

Of course, he had been away from the desk for so long that it required his password.

"Do you know the password?" asked Blake quietly.

"No," Weiss replied, equally softly. "That's why this was always a longshot."

She rested her fingertips lightly upon the desk. Could she guess the password? She had come here to try, but she didn't have unlimited attempts, two at most. At three tries, the account would lock, and Father would know that something had happened when he tried to start work to— in the morning.

What could it be? What could Father's password be?

Winter? Whitley? Weiss? No. No, that would imply that he cared about them, or ever had. Willow, her mother's name, was out for the same reason.

The password was as likely to be a random string of numbers and letters as the name of anyone in his family.

He didn't care about any of them. They were all just … means to an end for him.

"Is this your father, Weiss?" Penny asked.

Weiss glanced over her shoulder, to where Penny was looking at Father's portrait. "Yes, that's what he looked like when he was a young man."

"You know," Rainbow murmured, "your father is … a jerk, to put it mildly, but I can see why your mom married him. He was a handsome dude."

Weiss snorted. "He certainly wants people to think so." She stopped, her eyes widening.

"Could it be that simple?' Weiss whispered.

"Weiss?" Blake asked, putting one hand upon her shoulder.

Father didn't care about her. He didn't care about either of his daughters, or his son, or his wife.

But he cared very much about himself.

Weiss looked at the portrait once again. That was what Father had looked like on the day he had married Mother … and taken control of the Schnee Dust Company.

Weiss' fingers tapped upon the keys as she entered the day of her parents' wedding, the day that Jacques Gelé had become Jacques Schnee, richest man in Remnant, into the password.

Weiss held her breath and pressed enter.

The password screen disappeared, replaced by a desktop with files already open and everything spread out before her.

Weiss could not cry out in triumph, she could not laugh; all she could do was let out a little ragged gasp. "I did it."

"Yeah," Rainbow said, patting her on the back. "Yeah, you did. Good job, Weiss."

"My job isn't done yet," Weiss reminded the other girl. With a few clicks, she opened up the Human Resources directory, complete with a search function for names. "What's the full name?"

"Leaf Kelly."

Weiss typed in the name Leaf Kelly and pressed enter.

She was almost surprised there was a result, but there was: a file appeared on the screen, complete with a photograph of a squirrel faunus with numerous ear piercings.

"Is that her?" Weiss asked.

"Yes," Penny said. "Yes, that's Leaf."

"Okay," Weiss said. "According to this file, she's employed as a hauler at Ramshead. Yes, it would be somewhere like there."

"You know the place?" Rainbow asked.

"It was discovered by my grandfather, during his first expedition," Weiss explained. "It's in the interior, the central mountains. Grandfather mined the surface level dust, but although he was certain there was a lot more dust to be found below, he didn't pursue it "

"Doesn't sound like Nicholas Schnee," Blake observed.

"He didn't think it was worth it," Weiss said. "Between heavy grimm activity and the difficulties of reaching the dust … there were other, easier yields to chase."

"So we have a place where the mining is hard, the location is out of the way, and the grimm make mining even more dangerous than usual," Rainbow murmured. "Sounds like the kind of place to—"

"Use slave labour?" Blake suggested.

"Something like that," Rainbow grunted.

"For whatever it's worth, she's set up on the payroll," Weiss said. "Albeit with heavy garnishing. Almost none of her notional pay survives the deductions.”

"Hmm," Rainbow murmured. "Ramshead, huh? Thanks, Weiss. Thanks a whole lot."

"What will you do now?" Weiss asked as she shut down programs so that Father wouldn't know what she'd done.

"I'm going to wake up Cadance, tell her what's going on," Rainbow said. "Wait, no, first we're going to get out of your hair, then we're going to wake up Cadance. Leaf … I wish this hadn't happened to her, but she might just have given us the lead to blow this thing wide open."

Adam's Last Victory (New)

Adam’s Last Victory

"I remember," Blake said, "that there was a time when you told me that being in Atlas meant there was more backup available than to huntsmen from other kingdoms."

"That's right," Rainbow replied. "I did say something like that, and I think the carrier and full cruiser squadron behind us backs me up."

"Mmm," Blake murmured, committing to nothing. "Explain to me then, that being the case, why we have to go in by ourselves?"

"Because I want to be sure that this is what we think it is before I drop the heavy end of the hammer on it," Cadance's voice came over the comm from the CIC of the carrier Jeffrey Sinclair, one of the ships of Third Squadron holding position out of detection range of Ramshead. "If I send in a battalion of troops to what turns out to be a perfectly legitimate SDC mining operation, then Jacques Schnee will skin me alive and use me as a throw rug — and he'll deserve to."

Blake's eyes widened. "Ma'am, I—"

"That's right, girls," Cadance said, a touch of amusement tickling her voice, "I can hear you."

Blake cringed. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Oh, don't mind me; I'm just glad that I could clear that up for you," Cadance said. "How's it looking, Rainbow Dash?"

Rainbow didn't reply for a moment as she looked out of the cockpit towards their destination. While Cadance was holding her ships back until or unless they were needed, Rainbow, Blake, and Penny were approaching in The Bus. After all, the SDC was not an enemy of Atlas, and this was not an off the books facility; there was nothing that anyone could find strange about an Atlesian airship flying overhead, and once Rainbow requested clearance to land and refuel, well, no one could find anything strange about that, either.

If they objected to her landing request, that would, itself, be pretty conclusive proof that there was something fishy going on at Ramshead.

But for now, there had been no communications with the surface; they were probably hoping that Rainbow would just fly on by. They were still some distance out, but not so far that Rainbow couldn't see what Ramshead looked like spread out beneath them.

The grimm trouble that had led Nicholas Schnee to declare the site not worth bothering with had led the SDC of today to erect black metal walls to surround the mining colony on three sides; only the side that butted up against the mountain, and the tunnels that led into the mountain to the mines within, was not walled off. There were towers built into the walls, and androids crewed the searchlights and the heavy weapons that were mounted on said towers.

Although both lights and guns were facing outwards at the moment, it occurred to Rainbow Dash that walls like that, while keeping the grimm out, could also serve to keep the … the ‘workers’ in. Although, even if they did get out, there weren't many places they could go; it was a long way across the tundra to Atlas, Mantle, or anywhere else.

Within the walls, Ramshead looked a dull, grey, dreary place, devoid of amenities or joy of any kind. The buildings were low and dark, some long and some squat, but all low; only the great dust storage tanks had any elevation at all. All the buildings were square too, all save for a single round, windowless structure that seemed sunk into the earth. A single spur of railway track led through the walls — via a gate which could be closed so as not to leave a permanent gap in the wall — towards, presumably, Mantle and the refineries there. A docking pad near the centre of the settlement already had an airship docked there, a Skyray with the SDC snowflake on its wings.

In the time it had taken to assemble the assault force, the sun had risen over the horizon, bathing Ramshead in a cold light, and in that light, Rainbow could see people, so small from up here, beginning to move through the town, emerging from the long, low blockhouses to move in a mass like a river towards the mountain tunnels.

"It's hard to say from up here, ma'am," Rainbow said. "It looks miserable, but we won't know if it's anything worse than miserable until we get down there."

"Understood," Cadance said. "Remember, the go-word is 'Canterlot'; say that, and I send in the troops. The abort word is 'Chrysalis'; say that, and we stand down."

"Acknowledged, ma'am," Rainbow said. "We're going to go silent for now. We'll contact you once we've assessed the situation."

"Copy that, Rainbow Dash," Cadance said. "Good luck out there."

"Thank you, ma'am." Rainbow tapped her earpiece, turning it temporarily off. Blake and Penny did likewise.

"I'm a little surprised the Councillor came herself," Blake observed.

"She wants to see this through," Rainbow said. "We both do." She glanced at Blake. "Are you okay?"

Blake looked away, a frown besmirching her features. "I … I keep thinking about the other Adam, the one in Equestria. The one who's marrying that other Blake, the one who is somebody. I know that Adam, our Adam, from this world, made his own choices and has to shoulder the blame for them, but at the same time, I can't help but imagine what he might have been, might have become, if his face … if he hadn't been … if things had been different."

She paused for a moment. "We might not stop it completely here, today, but if we can spare that fate … I might not be fine, but I am ready to do some good."

Rainbow nodded. "Penny?"

"I'm ready," Penny declared.

"Okay then," Rainbow said. "Let's do this." She pulled a microphone off the wall beside her and spoke into it. "This is Atlas Echo One-Eight-One to SDC facility requesting permission to land, over."

There was a moment of silence before any response crackled over the speakers.

"Echo One-Eight-One, what is the reason for your request, over?"

"We're low on fuel; I'm worried we might not make it back to Atlas," Rainbow said. "Requesting permission to land and refuel."

There was another pause, longer this time, a pause which dragged, which devoured the moments.

"What do we do if they say no?" asked Penny.

"Say it's an emergency and land anyway," Rainbow said. "What are they going to do, shoot down an Atlesian airship?"

"Can you be sure they wouldn't?" Blake asked.

"They wouldn't dare," Rainbow declared. "It would be the end of the SDC if they did."

"Echo One-Eight-One, you are cleared to land on the docking pad, over."

"Acknowledged, Control; we owe you one," Rainbow said into the microphone before she replaced it back in its cradle on the wall. "See?" she said. "What did I tell you?"

She began to guide The Bus down in a gentle descent towards the docking pad, the mining colony at Ramshead getting larger and larger beneath them as the airship descended upon it.

"Now, once we get down there, they might keep a watch on us, make sure we don't stumble onto anything they don't want us to know," Rainbow said. "In which case, Blake, you're the stealthy one, so you'll have to sneak away somehow and find Leaf or any evidence that justifies calling in Cadance and the cavalry."

"What happens if we can't find anything before the airship is refuelled?" Penny asked.

"Then … then I'll sabotage The Bus and give us an excuse to stick around for longer," Rainbow answered.

It would be a wrench to do it, especially since she'd have to do something that wasn't an easy fix, but it wasn't as though they could just leave with the job undone. At the very least, they needed to find Leaf and get her out of here, and preferably rescue any other faunus being held captive against their will.

The buildings of Ramshead were life-sized now, but they still looked squat and small and mean as The Bus made its final descent upon the docking pad. Rainbow set her down next to the SDC Skyray, feeling the slight jolt of landing before she cut the engines.

She unbundled herself from her seat, Blake doing likewise as Penny retreated from the cockpit to make way for them. Rainbow grabbed Undying Loyalty from where it leaned against the cockpit doorframe and slung it across her back.

The three of them lined up together, side by side, as Rainbow hit the button to open the side door.

The door slid sideways, revealing three figures standing on the tarmac waiting for them, all three of them wearing white uniforms with the snowflake of the Schnee Dust Company upon their breasts.

Rainbow really didn't like the fact that SDC Security wore the same colour uniforms as the Atlesian military; it was a cheap shot for everyone who wanted to say that there wasn't any difference between them.

Two of the three who greeted them were men, their faces impassive, with shotguns in their hands. The central figure was a woman, a dog faunus about Cadance's age, with terrier ears coming out of her short blonde hair — dyed blonde, judging by the hints of black and white just visible at the roots — which she wore in a pixie cut. The long sleeves of her uniform bulged with concealed muscle, as did her grey pants around the thigh area. Her collar was trimmed with gold braid, and although she wasn't carrying any weapon that Rainbow could see, nevertheless, Rainbow kept her eyes upon her, rather than on her gun-toting companions.

"Rainbow Dash, I presume?" she said, a smirk upon her face. She glanced at Blake. "And Blake Belladonna too, a pleasure that is no less welcome for the fact that it should have been expected."

Rainbow leapt down out of the airship. "You know who we are?"

"Your actions have brought you to general notice," the woman said, "and I've been expecting you." She held out one hand. "I'm Calliope Ferny, head of Schnee Dust Company Security."

"'Head'?" Rainbow repeated. "Head at this facility?"

"Head absolute," Calliope corrected.

"This … this is our teammate, Penny Polendina," Rainbow said. "I'd have thought that the absolute head of security would have a big office in Atlas instead of being out in a place like this."

Calliope chuckled. "Well, if I'd wanted to spend time in a big office in Atlas, I wouldn't have gone to work in Security, would I? Besides, I wanted to be here to roll out the welcome mat for you."

Rainbow licked her lips, “I don't know—"

"I suppose this is about the time one of you claims to need a bathroom break and then sneaks off to try and snoop around?" Calliope said. "Why don't I save us all some time? I've known you were coming ever since Miss Kelly was caught misusing company property last night. I don't know what you expected to find out here, but if you'll come with me, I'll put your mind at ease regarding any concerns you might have."

"Can we see Leaf?" Penny asked.

"No," Calliope said softly. "No, you can't."

"That would go a long way towards easing our concerns," Blake said firmly.

Calliope snorted. "I'm sure it would," she said, "but Miss Kelly is in solitary confinement after her little stunt of last night; if she were removed now, it would … it would have generally deleterious effects on discipline; I'm sure that, as soldiers of Atlas, you can understand that."

Rainbow folded her arms. "And I'm sure you understand that we've got absolutely no reason to take your word for any of this."

Calliope was silent for a moment. "Come with me," she said again. "You cannot speak to Miss Kelly, but I will show you her and answer any questions you may have."

Rainbow hesitated. This was not going at all the way that she had expected it to, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought she should have expected it to go this way. Leaf had been caught calling someone, calling Rainbow Dash; of course they had to have expected to come out here looking for her. Well, they might have assumed she couldn’t locate Leaf, but apparently, Calliope Ferny wasn't that complacent. She had come out here just in case they found it, to intercept Rainbow and her friends, to … Rainbow was reminded of the horror stories you heard about nursing homes, how they cleaned up the old folks before their families came to visit to hide how badly they were being looked after the rest of the time.

Is that what Calliope Ferny had come here to do? Clean up before visitors?

Rainbow thought about the brand on Adam's face. How was anyone supposed to clean that up?

By stopping them from seeing anything like it, maybe.

But they weren't going to have much luck getting away from her — any of them, even Blake — while she was standing right in front of them and on her guard, so Rainbow said, "Sure, we'll come with you." She glanced at Blake and at Penny where they stood on either side of her. "We'll all come with you."

Calliope smiled thinly. "I'm so glad. I'm sure that we can put all this to bed without any further misunderstandings."

She turned her back on them and began to stride away, forcing them to move briskly to keep up with the pace she set with her long legs.

Calliope led them across the settlement, passing the last of the throng of miners entering the tunnels under the watchful eyes of uniformed SDC guards. The guards, Rainbow noted, did not, in many cases, carry guns; rather, they held shock batons in their hands, glowing with yellow lightning dust.

It wasn’t a great look, but there was no sign of any of them actively mistreating the miners: no beatings, not even raised voices.

No doubt, Calliope had put them on their best behaviour.

"Is there any reason your men are watching the workforce like they're prisoners?" Blake asked.

"You won't be aware of this," Calliope said, without breaking her stride, "but the Atlesian worker is the worst idler in the world. Even those like Miss Kelly who come from other kingdoms eager to work swiftly become infected with the laziness of their Atlesian colleagues. They need careful, constant supervision in order to get a hard day's work out of them."

"That's … debatable," Rainbow murmured.

"Perhaps," Calliope allowed. "But the SDC has the right to manage its workforce as it sees fit. Within the bounds of the law, of course."

"Of course," Blake muttered.

"Why are they all wearing jumpsuits?" Rainbow asked, watching the workers in their identical dark blue outfits shuffling along into the mines.

"Why do you wear a uniform, Rainbow Dash?" asked Calliope. "It promotes discipline, a sense of unity, togetherness. Management practices which, again, can be disputed but are not, themselves, illegal."

Calliope led them into one of the smaller buildings, an office, with a large desk taking up most of the back wall and row after row of monitors took up the entirety of the wall on the left as they came in. Not all of the monitors were working, some were black and dead, but others showed people entering the tunnels, some boarding or aboard trains to carry them deep into the bowels of the earth; others still showed those who were already at work, digging precious Dust out of the cold hard rock. On the screens, people — not all faunus, some of them human — could be seen working in the kitchens or cleaning up in the empty bunkhouses.

On the cameras, Rainbow and the others could see that the employees slept in the large buildings with no rooms, no privacy — not even a screen visible to separate one sleeper from the other, not even a bed, just row after row of groundsheets and blanket rolls laid out on the floor.

"Cosy," Blake muttered.

"I'm sorry that we don't put our employees up in hotels, but we aren't running a holiday camp here," Calliope replied. "Besides, is it much worse than your dorm rooms?"

"Our dorm rooms have beds," Rainbow pointed out.

Calliope smiled. "Here at the SDC, we believe that uncomfortable sleeping arrangements provide an impetus to get up and go to work in the morning."

The smile lingered upon her face, stretching it out in a way that seemed a little unnatural, and frankly just a little bit creepy, before she said, "Now, you're anxious about the fate of Miss Kelly; well, here she is." She leaned back and picked up a small black control from off the desk, pointing it at the bank of monitors.

All of them, even the ones that had been blank before, changed, displaying a single larger than life image of Leaf. She was … they couldn't see where she was, but she didn't look too happy to be there, her mouth twisted with disgust, her eyes wide and darting every which way.

"Leaf!" Penny cried. "Let her out!"

"No," Calliope said flatly. "Miss Kelly has violated the terms of her employment with the SDC—"

"Then fire her," Rainbow said.

"Let me make myself very clear," Calliope said. "You have no authority here; that I am deigning to indulge you, to explain to you, is a courtesy, nothing more."

That, Rainbow thought, and you want us to go away and stop looking too deeply into this.

"Leaf said that you took her scroll," Blake said. "And now you're punishing her for making a call to Rainbow Dash."

"That was clearly stated on page twenty-four, section one hundred and nineteen, subparagraph three of the contract signed by Miss Kelly prior to taking up her employment here," Calliope said. "Personal scroll use is strictly forbidden on company time or facilities, and this entire town is a company facility."

"So she can't use her own scroll, and she can't use a company device," Rainbow said. "Sure sounds like you want to stop anyone from getting word out from here."

"Miss Kelly isn't here to have an active social life," Calliope said. "She's here to work. That's what we pay her for."

Blake folded her arms. "Is she getting paid?"

Calliope scoffed. "Of course she is. Miss Kelly, like all our employees here at Ramshead, receives her contractual salary. Minus income tax, legally-mandated pension contributions, contributions towards her legally-mandated health insurance, and contributions to help cover the company's corporation tax … really, if you think that Miss Kelly isn't keeping enough of her own money, I suggest you take it up with the Council, not with me."

The smile returned to Calliope's face. "Oh, and there are additional deductions for room and board here, but wage garnishing of that nature is perfectly legal, provided it can be justified."

"You're charging her to sleep on the floor with a whole bunch of complete strangers!" Rainbow snapped. "I don't think I'd call that justified."

Calliope shrugged. "Nevertheless, she is getting a place to sleep and two meals daily."

"And after six months, she'll be let go?" Blake demanded.

Calliope nodded. "Unless, of course, she decides to sign an extension to her contract. Many do. Some even transfer from the mines to my Security division. Most of the guards you see outside were once workers here, or at a facility just like this one." Calliope paused for a moment. "You might not like the look of this place. Miss Kelly might not be enjoying herself, but she signed a contract stipulating all of the conditions of her employment, and everything here is perfectly legal."

"Is branding your employees like property legal?" Blake growled.

Calliope's eyebrows rose. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Then you won't mind us taking a look around," Blake said. "As a courtesy."

Calliope was silent for a moment. Her blue eyes flickered from Blake to Rainbow Dash.

"You're very brave, Miss Belladonna," she said softly.

Blake snorted. "Should I be scared of you?"

"Not me, no," Calliope said. She gestured towards Rainbow Dash. "I was referring to your new partner here. Not everyone would throw in with a jinx without reservations."

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "What are you—?"

"'A jinx'?" Blake repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"Has Miss Dash told you about Team Raspberry?" Calliope asked. "One comrade missing a limb, another traumatised—"

"But none of them dead," Blake declared. "Thanks to Rainbow Dash."

Calliope smirked. "She hasn't told you about Kogetsu Koryu, then?"

Rainbow sucked in a sharp intake of breath. She … how could she … how could this woman…?

“Who?” asked Blake

Rainbow felt her insides turn to ice; Blake … she didn't want Blake to find out about this, and certainly not like this.

"Shut your mouth," she snarled. "Don't talk about him."

"So you didn't tell her about the last person to put their faith in you," Calliope said. She chuckled. "It's ironic, isn't it? Your semblance is super speed, but you weren't fast enough to—"

"SHUT UP!" Rainbow yelled, decking Calliope Ferny across the face hard to send her staggering backwards, hard enough that when she collided with the desk the desk was shoved backwards.

"You don't talk about Kogetsu!" Rainbow roared, her hand still balled into a fist. "Keep his name out of your mouth, understand?"

Calliope's face was hidden behind her hand as she clutched at her jaw, but when she looked at Rainbow Dash, there was a triumphant glee about her smile. "That's assault," she said. "Either you leave this facility at once, or I'll have you arrested."

For a moment, silence reigned.

Then Rainbow grinned as she tapped her earpiece, turning it on. "Canterlot."

Calliope blinked. "'Canterlot'? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I'm just giving the code for a squadron of Atlesian warships to descend on this location and tear it apart," Rainbow said casually.

Calliope's eyes widened. "You … a … what?"

"I got to hand it to you; you had me going for a second," Rainbow said. "Maybe this was all legal, and there was nothing we could do about it. But then you resorted to a stunt like that to try and get rid of me, and you know what that says? It says you've got something to hide, and I can't wait to find out what it is."

The smile slid off her face, leaving only a hard scowl behind. "And for your information, his name was Kogetsu Ironwood."

Rainbow wrenched the door open. The room inside was dark, so dark that, past the little light coming in from the corridor, she couldn't see anything at all.

"Leaf?" she called. "Are you in here?"

"Rainbow Dash?" Leaf replied cautiously as she stepped into the light.

Rainbow grinned. "You can come out now," she said. "Atlas is here."

Leaf stared at her for a moment silently. Then she said, "Took you long enough."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Just … come on," she said, gesturing out the door as she stepped back from it.

Leaf ran to the door as though she were afraid that Rainbow was going to slam it in her face if she moved too slowly. She emerged from the solitary confinement cell. "Blake, Penny. Hi, I … you all came?"

Penny nodded. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

Leaf made a kind of hoarse sputtering noise with her throat as she looked away. "You guys … you're really kind people, you know that? Thanks for coming."

"Don't mention it," Rainbow said. "I kind of feel like we should be thanking you."

"Thanking me," Leaf said. "Why?"

"Without you, we never would have found this place," Blake said. "Without you, we never would have rescued all of the people here."

"All the people here?" Leaf said. "Just the three of you?"

Rainbow chuckled. "No," she said. "We had some help. Come on outside; we'll show you."

They led Leaf out of the building on which she had been held and out into the grounds of the Ramshead facility. The Atlesian warships of the Third Squadron hovered overhead, casting long shadows across the open ground and the squat and grey and dreary buildings. Mighty Paladins, clanking and thumping, stomped between the buildings, while Atlesian soldiers moved here and there or manned the wall against sky grimm drawn by the sudden negativity.

Said negativity, if it came, would come from the SDC guards who had all been disarmed and were kneeling on the ground under the watchful eyes of Atlesian troops and Paladins. Other soldiers were leading labourers out of the mines or tending to the worst injured or affected of them.

Not every worker had an SDC brand upon them, but many did. Strangely, so did some of the guards. Apparently, Calliope hadn't been kidding when she said that they started off as…

As slaves. The SDC had been keeping slaves right here in Solitas, and no one had realised it.

Not all the workers here were faunus, but all the ones with the company name burned into their skin were.

All the ones marked out as property were.

But they had stopped it. She and Blake had stopped it, Cadance had stopped it, Atlas had stopped it.

And now justice would be done, by Atlas, in the eyes of the world.

She had to remember that; she had to hold onto that.

"Wow," Leaf said, looking around. "You brought all this … for me?"

Rainbow smiled. "Civis Atlarum Sum."

Leaf frowned. "I have no idea what you just said."

"It means you're under our protection," Rainbow said. "Because you're one of us."

"Rainbow Dash," Cadance called out as she approached. As she drew closer she said, "Miss Leaf Kelly, I presume?"

"Uh, yeah," Leaf said.

"Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza, at your service," Cadance said, holding out her hand. "On behalf of Atlas, I am truly sorry about all of this; you should never have had to suffer this."

"C-councillor?" Leaf stammered. "I, um…" She saluted.

"You still don't have to do that," Rainbow murmured.

"Right," Leaf muttered. She took Cadance's hand. "Sorry, I just … a Councillor?"

Cadance smiled. "And, as I said, a contrite one."

"There wasn't really much suffering," Leaf assured her. "Thanks to Rainbow, Blake, and Penny."

"Yes, they're very good on that regard, aren't they?" Cadance said. "Nevertheless, Atlas owes you an apology and a debt. An apology, for the fact that you were put in this situation, and a debt for enabling us to uncover something that has eluded us until now. It will take some time, no doubt, to establish everything about how this system of abuse was propagated, everyone who was involved, any other facilities, but already, we have found a great deal, and it would not have been possible without you."

Leaf looked down at the ground. "That's, um, that's really nice of you, and I appreciate it, but … I have to make rent, so is there any chance that Atlas's gratitude could take the form of some money? And soon?"

Cadance laughed. "Yes, Rainbow told me that you recently moved here looking for work. I think that Atlas gratitude can stretch as far as covering your expenses until you find your feet here. I'll have someone from my office get in touch to arrange it." To Rainbow, she said, "How does it feel?"

"It feels." Rainbow paused for a moment. "It doesn't feel anything," she admitted. "Because what we've stopped … it should never have been allowed to happen in the first place."

Cadance gave a slight nod of her head. "I suppose I can understand what you mean by that," she murmured. "Still, this is good work. We've taken another step towards the Atlas that can be. Blake."

"Ma'am."

Cadance turned away and left them once more to their own devices.

"You're gonna stick around here, then?" Rainbow asked. "You're not going to go back to Vale?"

"No," Leaf said at once. "But … I am going to call my mum. Thinking about it in that cell … I don't want to leave things … I want to talk to her."

"That's a good idea," Rainbow said softly. "Whatever happens, at least you gave her a chance."

Silence fell briefly upon the four of them.

Blake frowned a little. "Penny, can you look after Leaf for a second? Rainbow and I need to talk privately."

"Of course!" Penny declared enthusiastically. "Would you like something to eat, Leaf?"

"Uh, sure."

"Then come with me! The soldiers have set something up over here." Penny took Leaf by the arm and led her off in the direction of the field canteen the troops had set up for the liberated labourers.

Rainbow and Blake were left alone.

And Rainbow had a pretty good idea of why Blake wanted to speak to her alone.

It didn't mean that she was looking forward to it.

"Kogetsu … Ironwood?" Blake murmured.

Yep, there it was. Rainbow supposed it was inevitable, after what Calliope Ferny had said.

She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't like talking about Kogetsu; she didn't like thinking about Kogetsu.

Rainbow considered telling Blake that it was none of her business; Blake would, she was sure, accept that and back off ... even as curiosity and doubt niggle away at her.

She would find out sometime, if not from Rainbow than from someone else, maybe someone less trustworthy.

Best to get it over with.

Besides, it was Blake; if anyone deserved to know the truth, she did.

"He was the General's son."

"I didn't know he had a son," Blake murmured.

"A son and a daughter," Rainbow replied. "Their … their blood family was wiped out, when they were young; General Ironwood adopted them both."

"So … Koryu, that was their birth name?" Blake said. "It sounds Mistralian."

"It was," Rainbow said. "It is. An old Mistralian warrior clan."

Blake frowned. "General Ironwood told me … the General told me about a young student of great promise who…"

"Yeah," Rainbow said, her voice hoarse. "That, uh, that was, um…"

She reached around behind her, into a pouch she wore at her belt, and from that pouch, she got out her wallet. From her wallet, she got out a picture, well-worn from being folded and unfolded so often, a picture of four people at a fairground. Rainbow was one, Twilight was another, and with them was a slender boy with a thin, delicate, pretty face, with jet black hair kept out of his face with a neon blue sweatband tied around his brow. He was holding a stuffed bear, smiling, standing almost side by side with Twilight, while Rainbow stood behind them, looming over them, her arms around their shoulders and necks as she grinned.

Off to one side of the picture, her back half turned on the others, glaring at them over her shoulder, there stood another girl, with long brown hair, all dressed in pink, with a sword across her back.

"This was taken at the last Vytal Festival," Rainbow said, handing Blake the picture. "Kogetsu is the one holding the bear. I won that in some shooting game, one of the toy pistol things, you know?"

Blake nodded. "And the other girl?"

"His sister, Aska," Rainbow said.

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Is she—?"

"Dead? No," Rainbow said. "She went back to Mistral. Atlas wasn't good enough for her."

Blake frowned. "So she went to Haven instead?" She sounded sceptical, and rightly so.

Rainbow laughed bitterly. "Oh no, not for her, not for the last Koryu. She had to complete her training under a sensei out in the wilderness somewhere, for authenticity or some pretentious garbage like that." Rainbow paused for a moment. "We didn't get on."

"I'd never have guessed," Blake muttered dryly.

Rainbow snorted. "Twilight told me that I should be more understanding, that I should have some empathy, that I should think about what it was like to come to a strange new place that was different from what I'd known before. But I didn't need to think about that; I knew what that was like, I lived that, and I was appropriately grateful for the opportunities that I was given."

"And Kogetsu?"

"Kogetsu," Rainbow sighed. "Kogetsu was nice. Sweet, kind, smart. He used the name Ironwood when his sister wasn't around to scold him for it. He was sure to graduate top of his class from Apennine Combat School. But … he listened to Aska too much. She's the one who filled his head about the clan and tradition and Mistralian honour; she was the one who kept at him for being too Atlesian, for forgetting who and what he was. For being too close and too nice to a lowlife faunus like me. It hurt him, it got to him, I could see it, but … Twilight told me to leave it alone, told me it wasn't my place to get in the middle of a family issue like that. I wish … it’s about the only time I wish I hadn’t listened to Twilight."

"He didn't run," Blake murmured.

"He didn't retreat when he was ordered to," Rainbow corrected her. "Everyone was falling back; the combat school students were supposed to assist in the evacuation, not fight. When the grimm broke through the front line, they were engaged, but the evacuation was proceeding, and so they could get out of there. Kogetsu wouldn't go; he knew there were reinforcements en route to retake the town, and he thought that he could hold the relay tower until they arrived. A Koryu doesn't run, doesn't turn his back on the enemy, doesn't give ground." Rainbow paused, her whole body shuddering. "I was with the reinforcements. Even as our air support was starting to burn through the horde, General Ironwood ordered me to get to Kogetsu. I … I promised him I would.”

'I'll bring him home, sir, I promise.'

“But … it's like Calliope said: I wasn't fast enough. By the time I got there … I found half a dozen beowolves of the apex alpha's guard, all of them alpha sized themselves or near enough." Rainbow closed her eyes. "I was in time to save his body, but…"

Eyes closed, Rainbow felt rather than saw Blake pull her into an embrace.

"That wasn't your fault," Blake insisted. "It sounds as if he made his own choices, for better or worse."

"I was supposed to save him," Rainbow whispered. "I was supposed to be fast enough to save him."

"And I was supposed to be gentle and kind enough to save Adam, " Blake said. "To gentle the monster inside the man by loving him."

"That's ridiculous," Rainbow snapped.

"And what you're saying isn't?" Blake replied. "Does General Ironwood—?"

"We don't talk about it," Rainbow said. "Ever."

"But if he blamed you," Blake pointed out, "he wouldn't have given you Rosepetal."

Rainbow didn't respond to that. "Blake, will you promise me something?"

"That depends," Blake replied. "What promise do you want?"

"Don't do something stupid, don't … just live; for Atlas, for us. 'Cause you've got so much to live for."

"I know," Blake said softly. "And because I know, I can promise with a light heart."

Rainbow smiled. "Hey … you know what?"

"What?"

"Adam…" Rainbow murmured. "I never would have gone down this road if it wasn't for him, if I hadn't seen that mark on his face. This … this is his victory."

"Huh," Blake murmured. "I … I guess it is. Adam's last victory over the Schnee Dust Company.

"Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

Lost Daughter (New)

Lost Daughter

And so she is gone, this new friend you made?

Yes. She went to Atlas, to seek a new life there.

Without telling her mother? Without leaving any word as to where she has gone?

As she sat in the dorm room, momentarily alone, Sunset could feel the disapproval of Princess Celestia roiling off the page to surround her like a miasma.

She licked her lips. Ruby said she had a right to leave, whatever the consequences; her life, and her decisions, were her own and in her keeping. But you think I have done ill, don’t you, Princess?

In the question of Leaf’s going, Ruby is correct, of course; nopony — forgive me, no one

It’s alright, Princess; you can say nopony if you want to; there’s nobody around to read this but me.

Very well, then. As I was saying, nopony should be held against their will; nopony should be forced to live a life that they do not desire.

Not even by destiny itself?

Destiny, as I am sure I must have tried to tell you more than once, is revelatory, not binding. It cannot impose its will without consent.

Can it not?

No, or else why should cutie marks only appear at the moment of acceptance, not at the moment of practical discovery?

Sunset frowned at that, for all that she knew her princess couldn’t see it. 'The moment of acceptance'? She understood what Princess Celestia was trying to say, but at the same time … she wasn’t sure if she entirely believed it. She wasn’t aware that she had ever had a moment of conscious acceptance of her cutie mark; in fact, truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure what her cutie mark was. In her younger days, she had thought that it proclaimed her destiny to surpass Princess Celestia and succeed her as the ruler of Equestria, but that, of course, was both utterly ridiculous and far away now. Far, far away. Not going to happen, even if she wished it so.

Which I do not, for I would be a poor ruler, no doubt.

But then, I think anypony who might assume the crown and throne, even Twilight, would be, would seem, at least, a poor successor compared with Princess Celestia.

Just thinking about it, shorn of her youthful arrogance and ambition, the idea seemed … almost perverse. Princess Celestia was the ruler of Equestria — yes, Princess Luna had returned, but even so. Even so … Princess Celestia was the one who had been there. She had ruled Equestria when Sunset had been born; she could have been said to have been ruling Equestria when Sunset’s parents had been born if she had possessed any idea of who her parents were.

For a thousand years, Princess Celestia had held the rule of state; the throne, the crown, the majesty. For a thousand years, she had watched over all her little ponies, governed them, guarded them when necessary, guided them where it was required … served them, with all her heart and to the best of her ability.

Yes, I would have been a poor ruler. I can serve, but … but a few. Those I do not know, I cannot sacrifice for, as has been proven.

I could never have taken Princess Celestia’s place.

I am not sure that anyone ever could.

How could anyone hope to fill the horseshoes — or the delicate golden slippers — that Princess Celestia would leave behind if … if she wearied of the throne, if the worst should befall, for whatever reason, who could possibly take her place? She was … eternal. Permanent as the sun over which she was empowered. Equestria had changed, and changed dramatically over the course of her rule, but the princess herself had stayed the same, a fixed point, the rock on which Equestria was built.

Sunset ran one hand through her fiery hair. What maudlin, melancholy thoughts. Princess Celestia isn’t going anywhere. Why did I even start thinking about this?

Oh, right, my cutie mark, the meaning of which eludes me.

And yet, I have it regardless, without any moment of realization or acceptance.

Sunset wondered if perhaps that was why she had always drifted towards a more set, deterministic interpretation of destiny than the more goal-oriented interpretations of Princess Celestia or Pyrrha.

Or perhaps I just wanted a comfort blanket to wrap around myself in bad times. Perhaps I just wanted to be able to reassure myself that, however bleak things might look at that moment, I had a great and glorious destiny, so it would all turn out okay in the end.

That sounds rather pathetic, I must admit, and yet, I’m not wholly convinced that it is.

What about Twilight Sparkle? She didn’t choose to be a princess, and yet, that was her destiny nevertheless. If anyone chose it, it sounds as though you did.

I certainly encouraged her in that direction.

Sunset could practically hear the amusement in Celestia’s voice contained within those words, that soft chuckle that tickled lightly at the ears.

And yet, it was her destiny, nevertheless.

And not mine, though I was the one who sought for it so eagerly.

Do you assume, little sunbeam, that the only way to seek for something is consciously? Do you think it is impossible to seek unknowingly? If that is so, then why do so many little ponies acquire their cutie marks in things that they never would have considered? Destiny is in our choosing, but the choice may be made without our active knowledge.

Then how is it a choice? Forgive me, but I find it hard to see any difference between that and the notion of an immutable fate.

An immutable fate need not — and indeed probably would not — be satisfying. A destiny that is unconsciously sought after usually is, in my experience.

Sunset smiled. Sunset: I will defer to your wisdom in this then, Princess Celestia.

As you deferred to Ruby’s wisdom in the matter of Leaf?

Indeed. I promised to start listening to her more.

And, as I have said, as I tried to teach you when you dwelt in Canterlot with me, she was correct, as far as it goes. People must be free to make their own decisions with their lives or else There was a pause. I am ashamed to say that I find myself reaching for tautology.

People must be free to make their own decisions, or else, they are not free?

Precisely. Without freedom, there is no choice, and choice is a gift most precious.

Even if it’s a bad choice?

Perhaps especially if it is a bad choice, for without bad choices, then there can be no good choices of any meaning.

And yet still you disapprove?

What would you have done, if it were not for Ruby’s advice?

I would probably have told Leaf’s mother what she was planning ahead of time. And she would have stopped her from going, probably.

It is well that you did not do that, but you said nothing to her mother afterwards?

No. No, I did not.

Then if I disapprove of anything, it is that. To leave that poor mare to suffer in ignorance, not knowing where her daughter is, whether she is safe, whether she is even still alive. Again, there was a pause on the other side of the book. Celestia: It must be a terrible time for her.

That was why I wanted to tell her about Leaf’s plans!

But you did not tell her where her daughter had gone after the fact?

What good will it do then?

She will know that, even though her daughter is far away from her, she is still safe, still alive; she may even learn that she is happy and thriving where she is, surrounded by good friends.

Sunset hesitated for a moment, tapping the back of her pen upon the desk. What if she decides to drag Leaf home from Atlas? If the paramount thing is to respect Leaf’s choices, then surely her choice not to tell her mother and slip away unnoticed, without a word, should also be respected?

Celestia took a moment or two to reply to that. You make a fair point, I must admit. Was her mother cruel to her, do you think?

I only met for a moment. I’m hardly qualified to judge, but I would say not. Oppressive to a degree that Leaf found burdensome, but not cruel, at least, I think so. If she were, I think Leaf would have had a harder time getting away.

I do not like the idea of letting her suffer.

I wasn’t too thrilled about it myself.

You surprise me a little, Sunset, I thought your sympathies would have been with the runaway.

Perhaps I’ve learned that the thing you’re running away from is rarely as bad as it seems.

And yet the thing you run towards can be more wonderful than you could possibly imagine, can it not?

Sunset let out a sort of little bark of laughter. Yes. Yes, Princess, I suppose it can, a point to you; you have struck me on the hip. As for Leaf’s mother, Sunset paused. She beat a tattoo upon the wood beneath her with her fingertips. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how she reacted to Leaf going away. Perhaps she is glad to be rid of her?

I doubt that very much. She is a mother, after all.

Indeed, I wrote that more in hope than in expectation; it would relieve me of needing to feel at all guilty about this. I almost wish Leaf had kept her mouth shut to us about all of this. I say almost because I am glad that I was able to drop Rainbow a line and get her to look after Leaf. I’m glad to know she’ll have a friend there, someone she can rely on. It’s not a place for the lonely.

Very few places are.

Indeed, you are unfortunately correct.

'Unfortunately'? No, for the fact that we cannot survive alone drives us to make friends, to bond with others, to work together to achieve more than we could otherwise, and there is nothing whatsoever unfortunate about that.

Even when it is forced on us by circumstance?

Some people need a push.

Sunset chuckled. Or to unknowingly push themselves, in my case.

You sought, and yet, you knew not.

Very well, Princess, if you say. In other news, Pyrrha has regained her confidence, although perhaps not in a manner best pleasing to me.

Did the delightful time she had with Jaune and his family help?

A delightful time was had by her, but no, that is not the cause of her renewed self-belief. She sought out Cinder for a duel, single combat to the death.

To the death?

My reaction exactly, Princess. It was a reminder to me that, for all that there is much to love to admire about Mistral, its ways are not our ways, and Mistral is not Equestria.

Indeed, I must say that it seems to me a somewhat barbaric practice.

Barbarians would have fewer rules and customs, I think; only civilised men could take something like fighting to the death and crust it over with so much formality and ritual.

But Pyrrha lives? She won the battle?

Yes, Pyrrha lives, thank goodness, and she was victorious, although Cinder also lives, Salem intervened in the battle to save Cinder’s life when the fighting went against her. Professor Ozpin was disappointed to hear that, but fortunately, it has not darkened Pyrrha’s skies, which are bright and shining as a result of her triumph. She has cast off the doubts that this business of Salem and all the obstacles before us bred in her and stands proud before all challenges once more.

While I may not approve of the circumstances which led to it, I am glad that Pyrrha has her confidence back, and I cannot even say that I am surprised at the manner in which she did so. Her actions may be foreign to a pony perspective in specific, but in general, success is a great tonic to doubt. Twilight Sparkle felt the same way, not too long ago.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Really? She felt inadequate?

Pointless, purposeless, uncertain of her destiny and of the role she had to play.

What happened?

Tirek returned, and it was necessary for Luna, Cadance, and I to give up our magic to Twilight to keep it safe from him, and then for Twilight to defeat him and save Equestria once again.

Ah, yes, that. Twilight had already told Sunset all about Tirek. She had told Sunset all about what she had not been willing to give up in order to defeat Tirek: the lives of her friends. And yet, that is what reassured her about her position, in the end? Sunset might have to ask her about that again, provided it didn’t stir up any overly painful memories.

I won’t say that I wasn’t worried about her going to fight Cinder, but now that the fight is done and everything is happily resolved, I can also say I’m glad Pyrrha won’t be spending the next few years tormented by self-doubt. Sunset hesitated. Princess, on the subject of Tirek, may I ask you one more thing before I release you?

Sunset, you may ask me as much as you like, but if there is only one more thing, then by all means, ask it.

You hid your magic — and that of the other alicorns — with Twilight Sparkle for safekeeping, to keep the power away from Tirek. If his threat had not been so short-lived, would you have considered doing that permanently?

You speak of the Maidens, these four embodiments of magic in the world of Remnant?

Precisely; they have long lain hidden, and I believe that is a mistake, but I would know your thoughts upon the matter.

As you point out, it is not as though I can say that I would never take the step that Professor Ozpin’s predecessors have done and which he has continued. When faced with a great enemy who wishes to steal away the most powerful magic that you possess, hiding that magic is a logical response.

For a little while, perhaps, but forever? To not only give the powers to Twilight to keep safe but to then have Twilight go into hiding for the rest of her life and for many lives after? Surely, there must be limits, especially when there is no prospect of an equivalent to Tirek’s defeat that will lift the threat.

If the threat is ever present then why must it not be ever guarded against?

That makes sense, to a point, but must there not come a point where we must accept that this threat must be, to an extent at least, lived with? At what point is more harm done by the cure than by the disease? To have you, and your sister, and Princess Cadance deprived of your magic for a little while is one thing, but to have no alicorns in Equestria forever? To be so afraid of future Tireks that you deprive Equestria of hope and inspiration forever?

I could not do that even if I wanted to. Someone would always ascend to become a new princess, and a new alicorn, even if I set myself to preventing it. No matter how dark the night, the light of friendship will always shine within it; no matter how barren the soil, the green shoots of a new hope will always spring up out of the ground to signal the rebirth of all that is good. Even if all the princesses of today were to vanish from Equestria and the harmony of Equestria itself were to be broken, I believe with all my heart that somepony would come to restore harmony and magic into the world and, in so doing, find their wings just as Twilight did, and Cadance, and others I have known who went before them. And so you see that the incessant hiding and concealment adopted by Professor Ozpin simply could not be done. And yet, I have no doubt that he is doing his best in such difficult circumstances.

He is following wisdom I do not believe was ever wise.

Then persuade him of better wisdom, if you have it; demonstrate to him that there is another way, a better way. If you are convinced, and if you are correct, then I have no doubt that he will listen to reason.

Is that my rhetoric homework?

If it pleases you to think of it so.

Then I’d better get to work, hadn’t I? I’m sorry to bother you, Princess Celestia; it’s just good to unburden myself a little from time to time.

There is no apology necessary, Sunbeam, none at all. I am always delighted to hear from you, about everything. I wish you luck, in all of your endeavours.

Thank you, Princess. Say hello to Twilight for me. Goodbye.

She shut the book and put down her pen. Sunset rested her feet against the wall and used them to push off, rocking her chair back onto its hind legs as she tucked her hands behind her head and stared up at the ceiling.

What to do, what to do?

What to do about so many different things. Or what not to do, as the case might be.

I thought things would get easier after we’d scotched Cinder’s plans.

Sunset was distracted from her thoughts by the buzzing of her scroll. She tucked her legs in, letting her chair fall forwards to land heavily upon all four legs once more, and fished the device out of her jacket pocket to answer it.

“Ah, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I wonder if you might come up to my office for a little word.”

“Of course, Professor,” Sunset said softly, as she got to her feet. “Do you need me to get the team together or—?”

“Is Miss Rose with you?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“No, Professor.”

“Then your presence on its own will suffice, I’m sure,” Professor Ozpin told her. “Please come immediately.”

Sunset frowned. “Is something up, Professor?”

“You’ll see when you arrive, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I promise that all will be revealed.”

Okay then. “Very well, Professor, I’ll be right up.”

“I will await your arrival, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said and then hung up on her.

He asked for Ruby but not for Jaune or Pyrrha. Perhaps he would have wanted to see Ruby if she’d been around, but didn’t want me to spend time looking for her?

Why? Why only Ruby? Why me on my own but with Ruby and only Ruby as an optional extra?

I suppose I’ll find out when I get there.

Sunset left the dorm room, walking briskly down the corridors and stairs to exit the dorms and jog across the open grounds towards the Emerald Tower. Even moving at speed as she was, she was left with time and space to continue to think, or rather, to dwell upon the thoughts that had been there already.

Compared to the question of Leaf’s mother, the issue of the Maidens seemed almost straightforward. Yes, it was true that Sunset didn’t know who they were, and she didn’t know exactly how their powers transferred outside of murderous interactions, but those particular swamps of ignorance didn’t seem to matter, because her concerns existed purely at the theoretical level. She didn’t need to know these women to argue for them to be let out for the good of the world; she didn’t need to understand the mechanism of power transfer to argue for their role as much-needed inspirations for the common run of men.

She had no need of the facts that she did not possess in order to marshal her arguments in favour of her preferred state of affairs.

Now she just needed to come up with some arguments that didn’t come out of her gut.

It was preferable to consider that than to think about the matters over which she had less control.

It was preferable, too, to think about that than to pay too much attention to the way that some of the Haven students — and it was Haven students; some of them were even wearing those black uniforms — were looking at her as she jogged across the courtyard towards the tower.

Sunset was not so naive as to think that everyone would have been convinced by Pyrrha’s actions of the falseness of the allegations against her — not least because Arslan’s footage of the duel had not yet been released, and even once it was, it would not convince everybody.

Pyrrha had won back much good opinion by her actions, but there would always be some pathetic malcontents for whom jealousy and resentment proved stronger than admiration — it was the curse of the talented, and of the famously talented even moreso. Especially in a place like Mistral, where to rise high was to be considered to be cutting others down.

And there was nothing that Sunset could do to change their minds; after all, their minds had been swayed by nothing but insinuations, and you couldn’t reason people out of positions they hadn’t reasoned themselves into.

Still, they were only a few, a pathetic few, whose ill opinion Pyrrha could dismiss with magisterial disdain, secure in the good graces to which she had returned in the hearts of the general.

At least, Sunset hoped that there were just a few of them anyway.

Pyrrha’s battle, Pyrrha’s victory, would have been worth it for the return of Pyrrha’s confidence alone, but it would be nice if it had also convinced the overwhelming majority of the swaying and the doubtful, too.

In any case, on the matter of the Maidens, hopefully, Professor Ozpin had reasoned himself into this present course instead of simply absorbing the received wisdom of his predecessors.

Sunset reached the tower — there were two Atlesian guards upon it, and judging by the lack of armour over their uniforms, Sunset guessed that they were Military Huntsman, rather than ordinary soldiers; in any case, they didn’t challenge Sunset or impede her progress through the doors — and walked inside. The tower was relatively full, the elevators were in use, and the lobby was halfway to packed with students coming in and out.

Sunset took comfort from the fact that they were giving her more sympathetic looks than dirty ones.

At least Sunset thought they were. It was hard to tell, since they weren’t saying anything.

“Sunset?”

The voice that intruded onto her thoughts was familiar and yet not. Familiar in the sense that Sunset had heard it before, but not very often. It belonged, as Sunset realized when she turned in the direction of the voice, to belong to … that rabbit faunus whom Cardin had been bullying in the first semester, when Jaune had gotten caught up in his web. What was her name? Sunset couldn’t recall it.

Someone else was standing behind her, a tall girl — as tall as Pyrrha, perhaps even a fraction taller, a feat moreover which she was achieving without heels, although those were some very chunky boots she had on which might be adding an inch or two to her height, and in any case, her arms weren’t as muscular as Pyrrha’s — dressed in an incredibly unflattering drab brown sweater, her eyes concealed beneath a pair of sunglasses and some of her brown hair hidden beneath a black beret.

Sunset didn’t remember her name either, but she did recognize as the leader of the team. Team CFVY, who were known as the best team in the second year — at least at Beacon.

Not as good as us, though. I mean, Professor Ozpin didn’t pick them to join his secret army, did they?

Perhaps they got lucky.

Anyway, CFVY. C-F-V- V! V her name begins with a V, V for—

“Velvet, right?” Sunset said, holding out one hand.

“Right, Velvet Scarlatina,” the other girl said, taking Sunset’s hand in her own. “This is my team leader, Coco Adel.”

“Yo,” Coco said, tipping her sunglasses briefly so that Sunset could catch a glimpse of a pair of dark eyes before the sunglasses concealed them once again.

“Hey,” Sunset said, her tone polite but neutral; she didn’t know either of these people, and she didn’t know what they wanted, after all.

About the only things that she knew about Team CFVY were that they enjoyed a reputation and that they were supposed to have organized the Beacon Dance, but hadn’t returned from a mission in time, forcing Sunset and Yang to step into the breach.

Oh, and Velvet had been the target of Cardin’s bullying, a fact which sat uncertainly next to the aforementioned reputation, but then, there were weak links in many teams; look at how much of a liability Jaune had been when he started out.

Coco grinned. “I hear that we missed quite a party while we were away, huh?”

“You did,” Sunset said softly. “Although I’m not sure which party you’re referring to.”

Coco paused for a moment, before she chuckled. “Oh, yeah, right, we missed two parties, didn’t we? I hear the dance was okay — a little cool, but a little stuffy too — until one of the Haven teams turned out to be White Fang agents or whatever.”

It seemed forever and an age ago that Sunset and Yang had argued over the arrangements for the dance, yet nevertheless, Sunset could not help but feel that the elements Coco would consider a little stuffy were the bits that she had insisted upon.

At the moment, she couldn’t be greatly disposed to care. The opinion of someone she didn’t know, especially someone who dressed like that, was of very little interest to her.

She really didn’t care what Coco Adel thought. Not at all.

My inclusions to the dance were elegant; it’s not my fault if some people lack refinement.

It would have been a hit in Canterlot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry we missed the real action,” Coco went on. “Our mission went on way longer than expected. Such a drag.”

“Coco!” Velvet managed to cry while at the same time doing it softly, putting all the disapproving emphasis upon the name while at the same time failing to raise her voice.

“What?” Coco asked. “We were stuck—”

“Helping people—”

“Out in the sticks,” Coco went on, ignoring Velvet’s words, “while the real grimm threat was right here in Vale. Teams like Sapphire here made their bones and are getting talked about as heroes while no one cares what we were doing at … Cairn Cross.”

“Stony Cairn,” Velvet murmured.

“Whatever,” Coco said. “The point is, it sounds like you did some good work out there, Sunset.”

Sunset shuffled uncomfortably. “I … we … did what we could.”

“A grimm attack beaten off with only six casualties, I’d say what you could do was pretty good,” Velvet told her. “We—”

“Unless, of course, you set the whole thing up,” Coco suggested, her grin turning into a smirk. “You know, maybe you and Pyrrha stitched it up with your pal Cinder so you could stop a grimm horde and look like heroes.”

Sunset’s hands clenched into fists. Her ears flattened on top of her head. “Now you listen to me, you bargain basement—”

“Relax, kid; I’m just messing with you!” Coco declared, raising one hand pacifically. “Nobody could believe that nonsense, especially after what Pyrrha did after.” She paused for a moment. “'Bargain basement'?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. She doesn’t really think that sweater looks good on her? She can’t possibly.

Coco pursed her lips together for a moment. “Anyway,” she said, “we might have been delayed for a little while, but we’re back now, so you can relax and take it easy, okay, hero? No more saving the day, and tell Pyrrha no more need for possibly illegal duels either. We’ve got this from here on out.”

She patted Sunset on the shoulder and then walked past her, swaying her hips a little in a strut as she headed towards the door.

Velvet laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Coco can be … an acquired taste.”

“Bun Bun?” Coco called.

“Coming,” Velvet called back, before a weary sigh escaped her lips and her brown eyes rolled momentarily upwards. She focused once more upon Sunset. “I just wanted to say … well, first of all I just wanted to say congratulations upon your success. You must be very proud. You’ve earned your place in the history books already.”

“Have we? I … I suppose we have,” Sunset murmured. “Well, thank you. Have you only just returned?”

“We’ve been back a little bit, but this is my first time running into you,” Velvet said. “Our mission did take a lot longer than we expected; there were just so many grimm. Now I think we know why.” She paused for a moment. “Anyway, the other thing I wanted to say is … I believe in you, and I think that most others do too, especially after what Pyrrha did.”

“Bun Bun!”

“In a second!” Velvet shouted back.

“I’ve got to go myself,” Sunset said. “Professor Ozpin is waiting for me.”

“Oh, sounds like he’s taken a special interest in you,” Velvet said. “I can see why. See you around.”

“Yeah,” Sunset agreed. “You too.”

She watched as Velvet sort of skipped away, perhaps not really skipping, but her rapid movements gave that impression as she rejoined the waiting Coco, and then they both headed out of the door and the tower together.

Sunset’s ears pricked up once more atop her head.

Heroes, huh? I wish we felt like it.

It was not the first time something of that sort had been said to her — it had been First Councillor Aris’ reason for not stringing her up, after all — but … it still surprised her to hear it.

This was my dream once.

But now…

Sunset turned away, and turned away from the thought what was more, as she walked across the lobby, excusing herself as she squeezed between or dodged around people, to reach one of the elevators that led up to Professor Ozpin’s office.

In a different world, she might have considered telling Pyrrha that they were seen as heroes for the Breach in order to snap her out of her funk; fortunately, that wasn’t necessary any longer.

That was not one of the things she needed to worry about.

Instead, she needed to think of some reasons to reveal the Maidens to the world.

And she needed to decide whether to come clean with Leaf’s mother about where her daughter had gone.

Sunset pondered these things as the elevator ground slowly upwards, groaning and juddering its way to the very top of the tower until, at last, it came to a halt, and the doors opened.

Sunset stepped out into Professor Ozpin’s office to find Leaf’s mother waiting there along with the headmaster.

Sunset stopped, barely avoiding getting her tail caught in the lift door as it closed behind her.

What’s she doing here?

What do you think?

“Ah, Miss Shimmer, thank you for coming,” Professor Ozpin said. He was behind his desk, but standing, his chair pushed slightly backwards towards the great windows. He gestured towards Leaf’s mother. “This is Mrs. Kelly, and she—”

“Where is she?!” Mrs Kelly demanded, striding towards Sunset. “Where’s Leaf? What have you done with her?”

“'Done'?” Sunset repeated. “I haven’t—”

“Don’t lie to me; I remember you!” Mrs. Kelly cried. “I remember that you were there; you’re the one on the news, the one in that battle. You were there, you were talking to her, you and that other girl, Ruby; you were talking to Leaf, you put ideas in her head.” She grabbed Sunset by the collar of her jacket and began to shake her back and forth. “Where is she?” Mrs Kelly demanded. “Where’s Leaf, where’s my daughter, what have you done?!”

Sunset’s head flapped back and forth; in fact, her whole body flopped like a stuffed doll as Mrs. Kelly shook her like … well, like a doll, and one that was not being carefully played with.

It wasn’t as though Sunset couldn’t do anything about it. On the contrary, she could have done something about it very easily. But that was … that was kind of the point. Mrs. Kelly was not a huntress, she didn’t have her aura activated, she wasn’t trained, she wasn’t the sort of person against whom you could fight back. It was like Pyrrha with Ruben: at a certain point, you were just bullying someone who couldn’t fight back.

And so, Sunset took it, allowing Mrs. Kelly to shake her and to shriek into her face, and her only recourse was to look at Professor Ozpin for a little assistance.

“Mrs. Kelly,” Professor Ozpin said. “Please calm down—”

“‘Calm down’?” Mrs Kelly repeated. “‘Calm down’?!” Her grip on Sunset relaxed as she turned — rounded, more like — on the headmaster. “Do you have children, Professor?”

Professor Ozpin was utterly silent and utterly still. His gaze lowered, not looking at Mrs Kelly, and in that moment, he seemed to age a hundred years at least, his face seeming more drawn, the lines upon it more pronounced.

“No,” he whispered. “No, I do not.”

“Then don’t tell me to calm down,” Mrs. Kelly snarled as she stalked towards him. “This is my daughter—”

“I’m well aware, ma’am,” Professor Ozpin said, quietly but firmly all the same. He looked up, and at Sunset. “Mrs. Kelly’s daughter … I believe that you and Miss Rose met her at some sort of motorcycling event, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset nodded. “Yes. That’s right, Professor. Leaf Kelly.”

Professor Ozpin gave a very slight nod of the head. “Miss Kelly is now missing, and Mrs. Kelly … we were hoping that you might be able to shed some light upon the situation.”

“Where is she?!” Mrs Kelly demanded. “What have you done—?”

“I haven’t done anything!” Sunset cried. “What do you think I am, a kidnapper?”

“Then where is she?”

“I…” Sunset hesitated for a moment. What will she do if I tell her? Fly to Atlas and drag Leaf home?

At what point is Leaf’s choice, and her right to make her own choices, sufficiently safe from interference that I don’t have to worry about it any more?

At what point does Leaf’s freedom to choose start impeding on other people’s freedoms?

At what point is it safe to tell her mother? Do I have the right to tell her mother?

“I don’t…” Sunset trailed off.

Mrs Kelly’s eyes widened. “You … you know something, don’t you?”

Sunset clasped her hands together behind her back and said nothing.

“Tell me,” Mrs. Kelly said. She walked towards Sunset, closing the distance with her once again, getting up in Sunset’s face to yell, “Tell me!”

She slapped Sunset across the face, a blow which stung for all that it barely chipped her aura.

“I can’t,” Sunset murmured. “I … I promised that I would not. I … I’m sorry.”

Mrs. Kelly stared at her a moment, and like Professor Ozpin just a moment ago, her face, too, seemed to age in moments. It was already an old face; it reminded Sunset of Lady Nikos, another woman grown old before her time, but now, the already hollow cheeks seemed to grow yet more hollow still, the bags beneath her eyes appeared to deepen. Her eyes dimmed.

“You promised,” she whispered. “You promised, you … you promised Leaf?”

“I—”

Sunset was cut off by the sob that fell from Mrs. Kelly’s mouth. She half turned away from Sunset as her eyes filled with tears, she put her wrinkled hands to her face, and she began to pace up and down in her worn out jeans and her green cagoule.

“She … she ran away, didn’t she?” Mrs Kelly said. “She ran away … from me.”

“Mrs. Kelly—” Professor Ozpin began.

“I knew that she wasn’t happy,” Mrs Kelly admitted. “I knew that … I mean, we fought all the time; there was… there was always something new to fight about, but … but I thought that … my daughter. My little girl. My Leaf. I thought she remembered, I thought she’d remember, that I was still the same person who used to take her out for ice cream so that she didn’t have to see her dad passed out on the bathroom floor, who used to let her come into my bed so that the monsters wouldn’t get her. I thought … I thought she’d remember that, remember that no matter how much we fought that I … that we…”

Sunset’s eyes were fixed upon Mrs. Kelly. But in her mind’s eye, it was not the Valish woman in the jeans and cagoule she saw; rather, it was a Mistralian lady, scion of a proud and ancient line, begging Sunset to help her mend the rift between her and her daughter, charging Sunset to fight alongside her in the wars to come, fretting in silence and behind a mask of calm over whether her brave, beautiful, talented daughter, last of her line, would ever return.

It was a princess with a coat of shimmering samite and a mane of many colours that flowed even in the absence of a wind, a princess whose embrace was as warm as a fire and as soft and fluffy as a cloud. Sunset could see her now, as though she stood before her eyes: sitting before a fire, sipping on hot cocoa, smiling as she listened to her faithful student recount all that she had learned that day, telling a story in a voice that was as lovely to listen to as the gently falling waterfall that bordered Canterlot, pacing up and down in a lonely tower beneath the stars, wondering at the fate of her little sunbeam and whether she yet lived.

Sunset’s head didn’t know what the right answer was in this circumstance, but as she watched Leaf’s mother pacing up and down, tears in her eyes, distraction in her aspect, Sunset’s heart knew for sure.

I’m sorry, Leaf; I can’t do this again. And if the freedom to choose is such a sacred thing, why shouldn’t I be free to choose for good or ill?

“She’s in Atlas,” she said.

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose.

Mrs. Kelly turned to face her. “'Atlas'? Leaf … Leaf is in Atlas?”

Sunset nodded.

Mrs. Kelly stared. “How? Why?”

“Opportunity,” Sunset murmured. “Freedom. The chance to … to pursue her own destiny. She took money from your husband to pay for her flight.”

“And what’s she going to do there, in Atlas?” Mrs. Kelly demanded. “How will she live, where will she live?”

“She told me that she had a place lined up, at least for a little while,” Sunset replied. “I don’t know how … well-planned everything was.” She thought it would be unhelpful to mention that Leaf’s plans seemed barely worthy of the name. “But I asked an Atlesian friend of mine, Rainbow Dash, to meet her at the Skydock and make sure that she was okay.” Sunset paused for a moment. “Leaf made me promise not to tell you before she left, and … and it is her choice to go, her life to live, but … I am sorry that I didn’t come and tell you after she was gone.” She bowed her head. “Forgive me, ma’am.” I should have known better and shown more kindness.

For a moment, there was silence.

“I don’t forgive you,” Mrs. Kelly said, her voice sharp for all that it was quiet. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”

Sunset looked up. “No, ma’am, I didn’t expect you would.” Luckily, it isn’t your forgiveness I require; in this, I think I can forgive myself.

“I—” Mrs. Kelly was cut off from anything else she might have said by the buzzing of her scroll. She scowled in irritation. “What is it—?” Those words, too, were cut off, and the scowl faded from her face as she saw who it was that was calling. “It’s Leaf!” she cried. “Leaf’s calling!”

A smile broke out upon her face, which, though it did not return to the full bloom of youth, did at least appear to get back to something close to the mere haggard look that had dogged it just a few minutes earlier.

Professor Ozpin cleared his throat lightly. “Miss Shimmer, perhaps you and I should…” He gestured with his head towards the elevator door.

It was generous of the professor to vacate his own office so that Leaf and her mother could talk, but Sunset supposed it was a long way down in the elevator, and the signal might not be very good.

That, and for all that she might disagree with him at times, it was becoming harder to deny that Professor Ozpin was a very generous man.

“Of course, Professor,” Sunset murmured, and she turned back towards the lift she had ascended up in.

She heard, rather than saw, a hologram activated on Professor Ozpin’s desk. She glanced back to see Professor Goodwitch’s face hovering above it.

“Glynda,” Professor Ozpin said, “forgive me, but if you need to talk, perhaps we could—”

“Turn on the news, Professor, now,” Professor Goodwitch said. “There’s a breaking news story that we should be all aware of. It concerns the Schnee Dust Company.”

Calliope's Confession (New)

Calliope’s Confession

There was screaming coming from down the hall.

Mother and Father were screaming at one another. They hadn’t done that in a while.

They hadn’t done that, that Weiss could recall, since her tenth birthday party. Father had arrived late; Weiss had been disappointed; Mother had been upset. What had started as an expression of her disappointment had turned into a screaming match in front of all the — increasingly embarrassed — guests, while Weiss huddled against the wall, crying, covering her ears with both hands trying to block out the sounds of them shouting at one another, while Winter cradled her younger sister in her arms.

It hadn’t been enough to block out the noise. It hadn’t been enough to stop her from hearing Father declare that he had only married Mother to get control of the Schnee Dust Company.

It was, perhaps, a little thing to some people, but to Weiss … there was always — and probably would always — be a part of her that somewhat resented the fact that those words — spoken without shame, out loud, and in front of witnesses — should not have damaged Jacques Schnee. He had just admitted that he had married for her money, and nobody cared. Nobody thought it worthy of comment, let alone of approbation. Perhaps they weren’t even surprised. Perhaps they had all known, and only Mother was shocked to discover it.

Perhaps that was simply the cost of doing business in Atlas.

It was, she was sure, a little thing; there were those for whom the price of doing business in Atlas was much higher than for either Weiss or her mother. But it irked her nonetheless.

In any event, there hadn’t been a lot of shouting in the Schnee manor after that. Mother had retired to her menagerie, and to the collection of expensive Mistralian vintage wines — the best wines in the world were Mistralian, or so they said; Weiss wondered idly if Pyrrha’s family was amongst the great landowning families who profited from her mother’s predilections — to which she was always adding but which never actually got any bigger. Father had been content to leave her to it, knowing that she could buy wine like it was water and exotic animals as though they were pet shop gerbils, and she still wouldn’t dent the monthly profits of the SDC.

Mother didn’t show herself much, not in Atlesian society, not in the house, not in the lives of her children. She might as well have been dead for as present as she was; she was little more than a ghost, an idea, a memory, someone talked of occasionally but never seen, someone who had once existed but who never had any influence upon the world they lived in.

Nobody seemed to care about that either. Weiss thought for a moment about those awful rumours that someone had tried to spread about Pyrrha — the rumours that were still being spread, even after Pyrrha had put her life on the line to scotch them; now, they were saying that Pyrrha and Cinder had arranged to fake a fight in order to give Pyrrha cover; Weiss wasn’t sure how many people believed that, but someone was definitely trying to make people believe it — and could not help but compare it to the lack of any such rumours surrounding her parents.

In her father’s case, the rumours could have even been true, or at least contained a kernel of truth, which was more than could be said about some rumours, but, again, nobody seemed to care.

They cared now.

There was a risk, of which Weiss was aware, that these thoughts might make her seem callous, self-centred, perhaps even bitter that the abuse of faunus labourers had attracted more attention than the plight of her own family. It was … well, maybe it was slightly the case, emotionally speaking at least, but she understood why it was the case.

This was … bigger than the Schnee family.

The screaming coming down the hall wasn’t the only sound, as Weiss sat against the wall in Whitley’s room. Her parents were screaming, and she was once more sat against the wall, her knees up in a most unladylike manner. This time there was no Winter to take her in her arms; rather, Weiss had one arm around Whitley’s shoulders, holding him against her side, his head resting on her shoulder as they both tried to pay attention to Weiss’ scroll over the sound of their parents’ yelling.

“The cost of shares in the Schnee Dust Company fell by a colossal nineteen percent today as law enforcement agents raided the company’s head offices here in Atlas in connection with the revelations of illegal working practices and abuse carried out at SDC facilities. So far, at least one member of the SDC board of directors has been arrested, but the authorities have said that the investigation is still ongoing.

“The Schnee Dust Company said in a statement that it was cooperating fully with the authorities.

“Fears of the collapse of the SDC has caused instability across the market; gilt yields have risen seven points off the back of concerns about the viability of the Atlesian economy without the SDC—”

“What do you think will happen?” Whitley asked.

“To who?” Weiss asked. “To us?”

“To all of us,” Whitley replied. “And to the company.”

Weiss squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “The innocent have nothing to fear from the law.”

Whitley glanced up at her. “Don’t they?” he asked, in a voice that sounded inordinately sceptical.

“No,” Weiss declared. “And I know that, because I have worked with the Valish police.”

“Of course you have,” Whitley muttered. He paused for a moment. “What makes you think that Father is innocent?”

Weiss drew in a breath and then let it out. She breathed in and out once more before she said, “Father has his faults, as we both know, but I don’t believe that he would be guilty of something like this. Has he ever gone out of his way to hurt you?”

“No,” Whitley said.

“No,” Weiss agreed. “Me neither. Because Father … is not a cruel man, except casually. At least … I think that if he was deliberately cruel, we would see it more often. Feel it more often. What’s going on, what they found … feels too malicious.”

“So Father just didn’t know that it was happening?”

“It’s not ideal,” Weiss murmured, “but it’s not something that he can be punished for. I’m more worried about the reputation of the company. Regardless of who knew what and who was responsible and who wasn’t, this happened at an SDC facility, maybe more than one. The company, the company that our grandfather built, will be forever associated with this. Forever tainted with this. Perhaps not forever, but it will take years, at least, to live this down. Our name will be stained with this, even though Father didn’t know, even though I’m sure he’ll suffer no legal repercussions, nevertheless, this will be what people think of when they hear the name Schnee.”

For now, at least. For some time to come, no doubt. But in time, when they hear the name Schnee, they’ll think of my accomplishments, of all that I have done and all those I have saved and served and the huntress that I have become.

Watch me, Grandfather; I shall glorify our name once more.

Whitley snorted. “You would care about something like that, my big sister with her head in the clouds.”

Weiss raised one eyebrow. “Some might say that it’s not a bad thing to have one’s head in the clouds, up here in Atlas.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” Weiss said. “I don’t.”

“Just that you would care about the Schnee name and the damage done to it.”

“It’s our name,” Weiss reminded him. “Don’t you care about it?”

“It’s a name,” Whitley said. “It doesn’t mean anything except money, and ruthless acquisition of the same.”

“That’s not true!” Weiss insisted. “The Schnee name stands for courage and hard work.”

“Once, maybe,” Whitley replied. He paused for a moment. “What if it doesn’t work out the way you think it will? What if Father isn’t innocent, or what if he is innocent but they blame him anyway? What if … what if it all comes tumbling down?”

Weiss hugged him a little tighter. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “No matter what happens, it’ll be okay.”

“It will for you,” Whitley said sharply. “You’re leaving.”

Weiss’ lips tightened. That was … unfortunately true. Not unfortunately in the sense that she didn’t want to leave, but unfortunate in the sense that she couldn’t deny what Whitley had said. She was — she would be — leaving, returning to Beacon for the Vytal Festival, and then for another year.

That was what she wanted, but at the same time, it would also involve leaving Whitley. It would always have involved leaving Whitley, but … but if, like he said, it all came falling down, then she would be leaving Whitley with … with what?

No father, no mother really, no Klein — he could hardly be expected to stay on if the family was thrown onto the crust of humility — no house, no wealth, no company. No … nothing. Winter would be fine, she had her own career in the military, and General Ironwood did not seem the sort of man to hold the crimes of her family against her; Weiss had Beacon, her team, the life of a huntress ahead of her, but Whitley…

“What if … what if I didn’t go?” she asked.

Whitley blinked. “What do you mean?”

“If … if it comes to it,” Weiss said. “If Father is implicated, or if things start falling apart then … then I won’t go back to Beacon and leave you to face all of this.”

Flash, she was sure, would understand. With so many younger siblings, she felt reasonably sure that Russel would understand too, and probably Cardin. And if they didn’t understand, well, then … that was too bad. It wasn’t her first choice, by any means, but what kind of huntress would she be if she turned her back on her own family when they were in need?

“I’ll stay,” she said, “and … take care of you.”

Whitley stared at her for a moment. “You … you’ll take care of me.”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “I will.”

Whitley frowned with one eyebrow while lifting the other. “How?” he asked.

Weiss’ mouth opened, but no sound emerged, because she hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. “Well … I suppose I could always … get a job. Isn’t that what people do? I could become … a waitress or something.”

“You’re going to become a waitress?”

“Or something!”

Whitley snorted. “I can’t see it.”

“Oh, really?” Weiss replied. “Well, if the idea of me providing for us both is so ridiculous, perhaps I should leave you to fend for yourself.” She chuckled. “Except I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that.”

“'Never'?” Whitley asked.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “Whitley … if anything happens, if anything goes wrong … you can always call me or Winter, you know that, right?”

Whitley was silent for a while, before he said, “But you think that it won’t come to that?”

“No,” Weiss said. “I’m sure it won’t. I’m sure … everything won’t be fine, everything won’t go back just the way it was, but … it’ll be okay. I’m positive that it will be okay.”

From the other side of the one-way mirror, invisible to the prisoner on the other side, Blake watched Calliope Ferny.

She did not look like a monster. But then, few monsters ever did, certainly not before you got to know them.

And yet, she was a monster, Blake was absolutely and utterly convinced of that.

How could the mother of monsters not be one herself?

Adam.

…the engagement of Miss Blake Belladonna and Mister Adam Taurus…

…far from unexpected…

…with grim determination worked his way up to the top.

Her Adam, Remnant’s Adam, could not have had the exact same life that his Equestrian counterpart had possessed, even with the best will in the world: there was no Belladonna Corporation in Remnant, Blake wasn’t a society beauty making her debut; and no faunus, however hard working and determined, would find it so easy to climb from the bottom rung of the ladder to the upmost. At least, Blake thought with a glance towards Rainbow Dash, and to Cadance beyond her, not without friends in high places to help the climb.

And yet, Adam could have been more than he became, the difference in the lives of the two, the greater success of the Equestrian Adam, surely, they were proof of that. He could have been more, he could have been somebody … somebody like the person Blake had thought he was, or perhaps even better still.

He might not have been as successful as his pony counterpart, but he could have been loving, he could have been kind, he could have been…

He could have been someone that Blake could love.

And they could have been happy, even without being the darlings of the Manehatten social scene.

But it was not to be, and it was not to be because of Calliope Ferny, sitting in that room, and those like her.

Because it had not been in Adam Taurus to be happy. Such an emotion was not left in him. Joy had not been in Adam, not ever while Blake had known him. The most he had ever exhibited in that regard was a certain grim, sardonic humour. He did not laugh loudly; he did not smile delightedly; not even a great victory could rouse him to more than a smirk. He could be charismatic, intensely so, and his commitment to the cause was undeniable, but … he could not be happy, and so, he could neither make Blake happy nor be made happy by her.

There was too much anger in him. Too much hatred, too much pain.

And Blake thought that pain had started when he had been branded on the face like property.

As she watched Calliope through the one-way glass, Blake’s hands curled into fists.

“Hey, Blake,” Rainbow’s words were soft, and her hand on Blake’s shoulder was gentle. “You okay?”

Blake turned her head to look at her. “I … no,” she admitted. “No, I don’t think I am. I … was just thinking about Adam.”

Rainbow frowned. “Of course,” she murmured.

“I was thinking about his other self,” Blake said quietly.

Rainbow glanced at Cadance, who was a few feet away, talking on her scroll. Rainbow kept her own voice low as she said, “You mean the pony Adam.”

Blake nodded. “I was thinking … about the kind of life that Adam might have had if … I don’t know, perhaps I’m reading too much into it.”

“Why, because he was always violent, always ruthless; we know that isn’t true,” Rainbow said. “And even if we hadn’t gone to Equestria to prove it, I … I don’t think that we’re born certain to turn out the way we do. Otherwise … we’re made by the things that we see, the things that we do … and by the people that we meet, most of all. I wasn’t so different from Gilda growing up. Heck, I probably wasn’t that much different from Adam when he was a kid. But I met Twilight and Rarity and Pinkie, Fluttershy, Applejack, the General … they made me who I am today; they still do, because I carry a piece of all of them inside of me, always. I met them, and so I turned out like me, with a lot of help from them. Adam … Adam ran into that. And the rest is history.”

“Not quite,” Blake murmured. “He ran into me as well.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Rainbow said.

“Because after a certain point, people stop being changed?” Blake asked. “They become fully formed?”

“Some people harden faster than others, if only because the oven is hotter,” Rainbow said. “Just because Adam didn’t spring out of the ground just like he eventually ended up doesn’t mean that you have to kick yourself for not changing him into something better. Just because people can change doesn’t make it easy, and it doesn’t mean you have an obligation to change people.” She gestured to Calliope. “Let’s keep the blame where it belongs, okay?” She grinned. “And give ourselves the credit for putting a stop to this before any more Adams got made.”

Blake nodded, a slight smile crossing her features. “Right.”

She returned her attention to Calliope, who hadn’t moved in the entire time that Blake had been watching her or talking with Rainbow Dash. She hadn’t so much as fidgeted.

Calliope Ferny was sat in a pristine white interrogation room, the walls made up on rectangular white panels, each panel projecting part of a hardlight shield that surrounded the interior of the room, light green hexagons surrounding her like the bars of a cage, slightly clipping Blake’s view from without — although not so much as to seriously obstruct it. Calliope’s hands rested upon a table as white as the walls which sat in front of her, and she kept her head looking straight ahead of her, eyes fixed upon the door.

She did not move an inch.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “What do you think made her this way?”

“Huh?”

“You just said we’re the sum of the places we’ve been and the people we’ve met,” Blake reminded her. “Who do you think she ran into?”

“Cadance got hold of her files; I took a look at them,” Rainbow said. “Her parents died when she was a kid, but after that … there’s a gap before she shows up in SDC security; maybe something happened to her in that time.”

She paused for a moment. “I’ve got to say, I … I’m not … I kind of hope that we don’t have to put Weiss’ father in prison; it would be a horrible way to repay her for her help, not just with this, but in Low Town too.”

“We can’t let Jacques Schnee escape justice just because we like Weiss,” Blake replied. “But … I agree. I … before, I would have been thrilled at the idea of bringing down Jacques Schnee, letting the whole SDC crumble around him, fall apart, fall to the ground. But now … now, I’d like for there to be a company left for Weiss to inherit. A company for her to redeem, as she wishes.”

Rainbow nodded. “I’d like that too. Not least because if the SDC goes down, it sounds as though it might take Atlas down with it.”

Rainbow gestured with her head towards where Cadance, standing in the metallic corridor, was speaking into her scroll.

“It will stabilize, Ivy; stop panicking,” Cadance said. “Yes, of course the markets are jittery, the markets always hate the unexpected, but once it stops being unexpected, then the fluctuations will stop too, and everything will become priced in. No, I can’t tell you how this is going to end, because I don’t know. I’m about to interview Ferny. I’ll let you know how it goes.” She hung up, putting her scroll back into her purse as she turned around and walked towards Blake and Rainbow Dash. “Sorry about that.”

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” Rainbow asked.

“It will be,” Cadance assured them both. “If a slight economic downturn is the price for justice, for proving that, in this kingdom, the faunus, and the workers, are just as much under the protection of Atlesian power as anyone else, then it’s a price that I, for one, will gladly pay.” She smiled. “You did good work, Rainbow.”

Rainbow looked down at the ground. “All I did was say a word.”

“Not just now,” Cadance said. “You brought this to my attention, you chased it up, and in the end, you found the location, not me. All of this is thanks to you.”

“No, ma’am,” Rainbow replied. “I couldn’t have done it without help.”

“None of us can,” Cadance said. “Now, would you both like to come in with me? Let me do the talking, but … I wouldn’t mind having you in there.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Rainbow said.

“Thank you,” Blake said softly.

Cadance nodded to both of them, then turned away, leaving them to follow in her wake. Her high heels tapped lightly upon the metal floor of the corridor as they walked around the cell to the door.

Cadance held her scroll in front of the scanner mounted to the wall, and the door slid open. As it opened, Blake could see the hardlight barriers that surrounded Calliope Ferny dissolving, if only temporarily, to admit them into the room.

Calliope smiled. It was faint, and only out of one corner of her mouth, but she smiled all the same.

Cadance stepped into the room. Blake and Rainbow Dash followed, taking up positions on either side of the door as said door slid shut, and the hardlight shields reappeared, the hexagons stitching themselves back together until the entire chamber and all its occupants were once more enclosed.

Cadance walked forwards, sitting down at the table opposite Calliope.

“Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza,” Calliope said. “I am honoured.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Cadance murmured. “You’ve been apprised of your rights?”

“I have.”

“Then you know that you’re entitled to representation from a lawyer,” Cadance said.

“I don’t want a lawyer; I don’t need a lawyer,” Calliope said. “I want to make a deal.”

Cadance was silent for a moment. “'A deal'?” she repeated.

“You’ve got me dead to rights,” Calliope declared. “I was there, at the scene of the crime; I tried to get your girls behind you to leave before they found any evidence. I knew what they were looking for. There’s no getting away from this, and I’m not going to waste anyone’s time with pointless tactics that won’t accomplish anything except to inflate some lawyer’s bank balance. I played, I lost, and you can lock me up and throw away the key.” She smirked. “I don’t guarantee I won’t try and escape later, but I won’t resist while you stuff me in the box in the first place.”

“Which raises the question of why I should offer you any sort of deal?” Cadance asked. “After all, as you’ve pointed out, I can nail you to the wall already.”

“Then it’s a good thing the deal isn’t for me, isn’t it?” Calliope asked. “I’m willing to give you everything: the names of all the other executives involved in our little scheme, all the bank accounts that we used to launder the money we garnished from our employees, all of the remaining sites where faunus labourers are … indentured.”

“You mean enslaved,” Blake growled.

“As you like,” Calliope said, her tone not changing in the slightest. “The point is that I can let you bring this whole thing down, rescue everyone—”

“Can you give me Jacques Schnee?” Cadance asked.

Calliope chuckled, leaning back in her chair as she tucked her hands behind her head. “Mister Schnee wasn’t involved. Ever. He didn’t know about the working conditions; he didn’t know about the money; as far as he was concerned, these were legitimate SDC mining sites, and the employees there were having their wages garnished for completely legitimate and legal purposes.”

“And he never asked any questions?” asked Cadance. “He was never suspicious.”

“There’s so much wool in Mister Schnee’s head, it’s child’s play to pull it over his eyes,” Calliope said. “No, he was never suspicious. Why would he be, so long as the company was fantastically profitable and the money kept rolling in?”

Cadance was silent for a moment. “Why?”

Calliope’s eyebrows rose. “Why what?”

“Why give up your co-conspirators? Why confess everything? What do you want?”

“My sister, Calla, had nothing to do with this,” Calliope said, leaning forwards now and resting her hands on the table once more. “Calla would never involve herself in anything like this. She is … my better half. She doesn’t deserve to be harassed, to have her life pulled apart looking for evidence of crimes that aren’t there. I want it written down and signed by you that there will be no charges filed or investigations opened into Calla Ferny-Brown. Absolute immunity, or you won’t get a single word on record from me.”

“If she’s innocent, then what does your sister have to fear from an investigation?”

“Nothing,” Calliope said. “But I don’t want her subjected to the indignity, to be forced to live with the fear of prosecution. She deserves better than that.”

What about the people you abused? What about their indignities? What about their fear? Did you ever think about that? Blake thought, and only with some difficulty restrained herself from speaking.

“That’s all?” asked Cadance.

“What can I say? I love my family,” Calliope said. She smiled. “So, do we have a deal?”

“You’re agreeing to this?” Blake demanded. “She’s getting everything she wants?”

“She’s going to prison for a very long time, and so will a number of other people besides,” Cadance corrected her as they stood outside the cell. “And in return, she is getting precisely nothing, except that an innocent woman will not get into any trouble with the law. Which is how things are supposed to work anyway.”

“As you said,” Blake replied, “if she’s innocent, then she has nothing to fear in any case. What if she is involved? What if she’s the mastermind behind it all?”

“That’s speculation,” Cadance said. “There’s no evidence—”

“Because you haven’t investigated yet!”

“Blake!” Rainbow cried. “Cool it, okay?”

Blake took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but … I think it’s too soon to be rushing to make a deal with this woman instead of trying to make as many arrests as possible on our own, with no strings attached.”

“And if this were purely a historic offence, then you would have a point,” Cadance said, “but you heard Ferny: there are more facilities, more faunus suffering abuse and waiting for rescue. Isn’t it more important that we get to them, even if one woman gets let off the hook for her crimes?”

Blake hesitated for a moment. “I’d like to have both,” she muttered.

Cadance chuckled. “I can understand that,” she assured her, “but the guiding principle of the legal system is that it’s better that a hundred guilty men go free than a single innocent man be wrongfully punished.”

“That’s why, when a jury is split evenly, the accused is always acquitted,” Blake murmured, “because mercy should always take precedence over punishment.”

“In Mistral, that is the system,” Cadance said. “Here in Atlas, the jury must return a unanimous verdict in order to convict.”

“Is that difficult?”

“Not if you make your case,” Cadance replied, “or have a confession from one of your lead suspects. Even if Calla Brown is involved in this somehow, letting one woman off the hook in order to bag a sackful of criminals and rescue who knows how many faunus from … from what is, let’s not beat around the bush, slavery … that’s a deal that I’ll take gladly.”

“If Calliope Ferny had asked to be set free as the condition of her deal, would you still have made it?” Blake asked softly.

“No,” Cadance said at once. “I might have discussed less serious charges against her, but I would never have let her walk, not after catching her red-handed.” She smiled. “I want to wrap this up, but not at the expense of justice.”

“But you do want to wrap this up,” Blake pointed out.

Cadance hesitated for a moment. “The markets are flailing at the moment. They’re not sure what’s going on, so they’re assuming the worst. Certainty will restore confidence, and confidence will restore stability; that’s politics, I’m afraid; you have to keep one eye on what the market is saying.”

Blake nodded. “I understand, ma’am; believe me, I don’t want to bring down Atlas’ economy. I’m sorry for snapping at you before.”

“Don’t apologise for being passionate,” Cadance said. “Without it—”

“It wasn’t my passion that brought this to light,” Blake said. “It was Rainbow Dash's.”

“It was a stroke of luck,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Nevertheless, you still shouldn’t apologise,” Cadance declared. “Without passion to move you along, where will you go next? Now, are you both ready?”

“I’d like to ask her something, ma’am,” Blake said. “If I may.”

Cadance was silent for a moment, her face expressionless and hard to read. “What do you want to ask?”

“I … I want to ask about Adam,” Blake said.

“Blake,” Rainbow murmured. “Are you sure that—?”

“I want to know,” Blake insisted. “I want to know … how it started.”

I know how it ended, after all.

Rainbow’s brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips together, looking troubled, but said nothing else on the matter.

Cadance hesitated for a second, before she nodded. “Very well,” she said. “After I’ve got everything I need from her, then you can ask, but until then—”

“Let you do the talking, ma’am,” Blake said. “Understood.”

“Actually, I’m hoping that she’ll do the talking,” Cadance said and tucked the sheaf of papers — Calliope’s deal — under her arm as she once more used her scroll to open the door.

Once more, the door slid open as the shields dissolved around the room. Calliope Ferny did not appear to have moved an inch since they left said room, not even to have turned her head in the slightest. She showed no reaction until Cadance, Rainbow Dash, and Blake walked back in.

The door closed behind them, and the shields went up once more.

Again, Rainbow and Blake took up their positions on either side of the door while Cadance walked to the table and sat down opposite Calliope.

She put the papers down on the table between them. “Your deal, signed by me on behalf of Atlas.”

Calliope began to reach for them, but hesitated. “You don’t mind if I—?”

“Please,” Cadance said gesturing at the deal. “Read it. Read it in more detail than the contracts you had vulnerable, desperate people sign.”

“You make me sound like some kind of predator,” Calliope said.

“Aren’t you?” asked Cadance.

Calliope smiled and reached for the paperwork, turning it around so that she could read it, and then, well, reading it, flicking from one page to the next.

When she was done, she pushed the deal aside. “Thank you, Madam Councillor,” she said. “You are a woman of your word.”

“I try,” Cadance said. “What does that make you?”

Calliope smiled. “Why? A good Atlesian, of course.”

“'Of course?'” Cadance repeated. “After what you’ve done, what you’ve presided over, you claim, you have the audacity to sit there and say that you are a good Atlesian?”

The smile didn’t waver from Calliope’s face. “And how do you think that Nicholas Schnee made his money, Councillor? Do you think that all those Vacuans were happy to see him buying up their land, getting rich off their natural resources? Do you think that the Valish enjoyed seeing the people they’d defeated in the war outpacing them in wealth? Do you think he achieved his position through probity and square dealing? No, he was ruthless and exploitative, just as we are all taught to be—”

“That’s not true,” Cadance said.

“Isn’t it?” Calliope demanded. “Then why do we admire wealth more than virtue, success more than character? Why does every child growing up in Mantle or Low Town dream of making it up to Atlas one day and living like the glittering elite? I did what I had to do to prosper, and I didn’t care who I had to step on to do it. I’m a good Atlesian, I’m the best Atlesian there is, and certainly the most honest.”

Rainbow snorted.

Calliope’s eyebrows. “I think one of your pets disagrees with me, Councillor.”

“They’re not my pets,” Cadance said flatly. She paused for a moment. “And Rainbow Dash can speak for herself.”

Rainbow folded her arms. “You’re right, I disagree. Because you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Calliope asked. “You think you know better than me what Atlas is?”

“I do know better than you,” Rainbow insisted.

“Why, because you’ve spent a couple of years in the Academy?” Calliope replied.

“Because you can’t buy your way out of this,” Rainbow snarled. “If you’re so great at being an Atlesian, if everyone in Atlas thinks like you, then why are you sitting in a cell, begging to get your sister off the hook while you stare down the barrel of life in prison? If you were right, then you’d be out of here already. But you’re not, because you’re wrong about Atlas. This kingdom stands for something, and you are going to find out just what happens to those who stand against what Atlas stands for.”

Calliope’s face was impassive, but her terrier ears flattened down against the top of her head, the way that Sunset’s ears frequently did whenever she was upset in any way. Blake wondered if it was the same with Calliope Ferny, if they might not offer an insight into what she was feeling that she would rather they didn’t possess.

“You think you’ve won, don’t you?” she asked, in a voice that was calm but brittle at the same time.

Rainbow shrugged. “It certainly looks that way, doesn’t it?”

Now it was Calliope’s turn to snort. “See how much, or how little, people care once the price of their stock options stabilises, and then tell me if you still feel that way.”

“You think people won’t find what you’ve done to be awful?” Rainbow demanded.

“People don’t find Mantle awful, except as far as they don’t want to live there,” Calliope said.

Unfortunately, she had a point about that. But, Blake remembered, Rainbow also had a point; ultimately, the operation of Calliope and her fellow conspirators had been stopped, people had been rescued, more people would be rescued, other people would be arrested. Rainbow was right. Calliope’s money had not protected her from those who believed in certain principles of justice.

But those principles weren’t doing anything to help Mantle. Or Low Town, for that matter.

But they do exist, and since they exist, then dedication towards them can be renewed.

Blake was coming to view Atlas as a city of two halves, not in the sense of the rich and the poor — although Atlas and Low Town qualified as such — but rather … Atlas was like the man with two souls, each fighting for control of the body politic.

On the one hand, Rainbow Dash, General Ironwood, Trixie, Starlight, Twilight and all the rest of her and Rainbow’s friends, Councillor Cadenza; the military and the Academy, chiefly, but also those who were in some way associated with them, or simply those who were generous and good-hearted. It was the side of comradeship, loyalty, of a great and formidable instrument made up of many thousands of people all working towards a common purpose greater than any of them. It was the side of action and resolve, but also of integrity of principle.

And on the other side … the squalor of Mantle, the existence of Low Town, the vast wealth of Jacques Schnee, the unabashed villainy of Calliope Ferny. On the other side was money, pure and simple, greed … ruthlessness and exploitation, just as Calliope had said.

Two sides of Atlas, fighting for control of it.

Weiss will bring the SDC from one side to the other, if she is allowed.

More to the point right now, the fact that Calliope Ferny is sitting here proves that the dark side does not hold sway.

Just as Rainbow said.

Calliope returned her attention to Cadance. “So, Councillor, what do you want to know?”

“Who is the ringleader in all of this?” Cadance asked. “Who started it?”

“Those are two different questions,” Calliope replied. “I am the ringleader right now, because none of this would be possible without my security guards. But it didn’t start with me; it was going on in some fashion when I was a child.”

Cadance paused for a moment. “Were you…?”

Calliope reached up, and started undoing her shirt, unfastening the buttons until she could shrug one light blue sleeve off her shoulder, revealing the letters ‘SDC’ seared into her flesh.

Calliope smiled. "The foreman of my work crew liked me, so he put it somewhere I could cover it up, at least some of the time."

Since she was a child? How long ago was that?

Cadance was silent for a moment. "Where you kept at a distance from Mantle and other cities, the way—"

"The way that I do it now?" Calliope asked. "No. It wasn't so organised back then, or at least, I don't think it was. It was … a group of foremen who wanted the power. Mister Legree, our site manager — we worked at the Saar Pit, just outside of Mantle, but not too far away — was an old fossil, so old that he could still remember the old days, before the war. He handpicked people to help him keep acting like it was the old days."

"And nobody knew?"

"Nobody knew, or nobody cared; I don't know which it was," Calliope said. "What I do remember is that our working crews were the hardest-working in the whole SDC; not surprising since we were working longer hours, sleeping in the pits with our tools for company, snatching a few hours in the dark and the cold before waking up to do it all again. What I remember is that, as people died — and they died quickly too, from overwork or scurvy or taking their own lives because death seemed preferable to life in darkness — the foremen and the manager were getting lavish bonuses for exceeding their production quotas. So long as the dust flowed, I don't think anyone would have cared how it was being extracted or how many people were dying to get it out of the ground." She paused a moment. "The work was dangerous. Most people didn't last very long, which was the way they wanted it, of course."

"But you survived," Cadance said.

"Like I said, my foreman liked me," Calliope replied. She smirked. "I'm not sure he liked me so much after I drove a pickaxe into his skull, but he didn't last long after that to have changed feelings. There was a boy called — what was his name? — Adam."

Blake stiffened, her ears pricking up involuntarily.

Calliope glanced towards her. "You … you know him, don't you?"

Blake licked her lips. "I … I knew him," she murmured.

"So he's dead then," Calliope said. "I always wondered what happened to him." She paused for a moment, her gaze switching back and forth between Blake and Rainbow Dash. "Let me guess: you found out about the brand on his face, and you … you thought that you could blame it on me? You thought you could find a monster to bear that crime and all the other crimes of Atlas." She snorted. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Adam and I were … we were at the dustface together, literally. The foreman wasn't kind to him, but … he was strong; he was a survivor, like me. We planned to escape together, and he did escape; I never saw him again. How did he die?"

"He … he joined the White Fang," Blake said.

"And Atlas killed him," Calliope murmured. Her eyes narrowed. "No … you killed him."

"That's enough," Rainbow growled, taking a step forward, her hands clenching into fists. "Get back on topic."

"This is why I never saw the point of the White Fang," Calliope said. "Fighting for people who are too weak to fight for themselves, who are so shackled by petty morality that they revile those who fight for them, call their own defenders terrorists. You may as well look out for yourself, work for yourself, and let the moralists eat virtue and drink from the cup of good behaviour, if they can find it."

Blake's ears drooped down, even as her head bowed. So … that was it? That was all?

Of course it was. She wasn't Pyrrha; there wasn't a single villain that she could fight; there wasn't anyone whom she could challenge to single combat to best and in the besting make her problems go away. She was confronting something larger, more protean, a creature with many heads and many different forms that would not be easily slain.

But she had always known that and made her peace with it. But still … it would have been comforting to have brought the blame for Adam home to roost on somebody's still living head.

"They should have killed me after that," Calliope went on, "but the guard who was assigned to take me out and put a bullet in the back of my head … I guess she liked me too. In a real way, this time, not just in a 'hide the brand on my skin'—"

"Where did the brands come from?" asked Cadance.

"They were for branding crates," Calliope explained. "Cargo. Property. Shows you how they saw us, huh? But Eva was … different. She let me go home, to my sister; I didn't tell Calla about where I'd been, I told her not to worry about it. Of course, without me around, she'd ended up in the foster system … at first, I wanted to take her away from there, but … she'd ended up with a nice family. A prosperous family, whose work kept them in Mantle — the father was a middle manager at the SDC refinery — but they lived in a nice high rise above the haze, and they were going to send Calla to a fancy private school in Atlas. I couldn't take her away from that. They could offer her a better life than I could. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? Having a good life. If you don't have to fight for it, like Calla didn't, thanks to her foster folks, then great. If you do, like me, then you fight for it."

"No matter who you hurt," Cadance said.

"It's a fight," Calliope replied. "Hurting other people is kind of inevitable."

"So you went to work for SDC Security," Cadance said.

Calliope nodded. "That's right. I climbed the ranks. I killed everyone who'd ever been involved in the Saar Pit, and I made connections with other departments, other rising stars. Eventually, I became head of security—"

"And decided to do to others what had been done to you," said Cadance.

"Oh, I did much more than that," Calliope said. "This wasn't just a matter of one site manager, a few pliable or corruptible foremen, and tamed guards; I built a network. I'd had a lot of time, as I was climbing the corporate ladder, to think about what I was going to do and how to do it. I set up a dummy recruitment agency, with links to real recruitment agencies who would screen out the people that I was looking for: hopeless cases, people without families, people desperate for work, people who'd newly arrived in Atlas—"

"People who could disappear without causing a fuss," Cadance said flatly.

"Precisely."

"Did the legitimate recruitment agencies know what you wanted these people for?"

"If they worked it out, it's not because I told them," Calliope said. "The explanation was that we wanted people who could work away from home for a prolonged period of time: no children or parents to look after, nothing holding them down. If they thought our criteria for that was a little odd, nobody questioned it. The heads of personnel, payroll, and legal were all involved, along with subordinate members of their departments. Personnel drew up the contracts for the workers, including the right to garnish wages to cover necessary expenses. Legal reviewed the contracts and signed them as legal, so we'd be covered unless someone actually went to one of our facilities and had a look around. Payroll ensured that everything looked right on the internal payslip records."

"What was the point of all this?" Cadance asked.

"Money," Calliope said simply.

"Doesn't an SDC executive get paid enough?"

Calliope chuckled. "Okay, maybe it wasn't just about the money. It was … kind of fun, too. Sneaking around Mister Schnee's nose. Hiding the truth. It was exciting. But mostly, it was all about the money. There were two stages, really, the first being that we were garnishing a lot more money out of the nominal wages of our employees for accommodation and food than we were actually spending on them, and keeping the rest. Nevertheless, it looked as though a lot of money was being spent on these people, so that reduced the number of questions being asked. The rest of their wages, what wasn't being garnished away, was being paid into bank accounts controlled by myself and my co-conspirators, from where it was distributed amongst us each month."

"And what did you bring to the table?" Cadance asked. "Payroll, Legal, Personnel—"

"They needed my security guards to maintain the facilities," Calliope said. "I knew them, I knew which ones would be willing to go along with this and which ones would have an attack of conscience and so had to be kept well away. Plus, it was my idea in the first place; none of them would have come up with it on their own. And I chose the sites. I selected locations where dust had been discovered, but it had been judged too difficult or expensive to actually mine it there. I was the one who went to Mister Schnee and proposed that we should have a go anyway. Every time, I promised that it could be done cheaply, that the reward would be worth the expense, and he agreed. He'd agree to anything so long as you told him that the reward would be worth the expense.

"Of course, once we'd got the people out there, we kept on extending their contracts, or rather, they kept choosing to extend their contracts, completely voluntarily, of course. At least as far as the company records were concerned, anyway. One thing I will say is that I didn't work them to death the way that Mister Legree worked so many of us to death at Saar Pit. I worked them hard, yes, but some of them lasted for years. Some of them even joined Security. Does that surprise you?"

"A little," Cadance murmured.

Calliope smiled. "Despite the circumstances, I think we formed a connection, those workers and I. They understood that I didn't hate them; they understood the lesson that I'd learnt at Saar Pit, that if you are willing to work hard and not have too many qualms, you, too, can achieve great success in this, the greatest of kingdoms."

"Until you get caught," Rainbow muttered.

"Mantle was once defeated in war," Calliope reminded them. "Humbled and brought low. And in that spirit, it seems to me that, as a good Atlesian, the only thing for me to do is … rise again."

Rainbow snorted. "I don't see that happening."

"No, I didn't expect you would," Calliope said. "But that just means that it will be all the sweeter when I do."

Dinner with Lord Rutulus (New)

Dinner with Lord Rutulus

“The value of shares in the SDC rose slightly as the Atlesian authorities announced that they were not filing charges against Jacques Schnee following the recent revelations regarding abuse and forced labour at certain Schnee Dust Company facilities. Several executives were arrested yesterday in conjunction with the abuse, but Jacques Schnee is said to be cooperating fully with the investigation. The arrested executives have been identified as Calliope Ferny—”

Turnus switched off his scroll, letting it sit blank and idle in his hand as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He was in his stateroom aboard the airship Imperial Splendour, which had just passed over the mountains and was making its final approach towards Vale. But, since they had not yet arrived in Vale, there was very little at present to distract him from this news about the SDC.

“Calliope Ferny,” he murmured. “Captain Ferny?” How could you?

“You know her?” asked Lord Kiro from where he lounged by the wall of Turnus’ stateroom.

Turnus looked up at him. Elagabalus Kiro was a man of around Turnus’ age — they had been at school together, before Turnus went away to Atlas — but a little smaller and a lot less broad in the shoulders. His face was thin, a little pinched, and he wore his black hair in a curious fashion, combed and fixed upwards in an array from ear to ear like the crest of a helmet. Turnus had never asked why he chose to arrange his hair like that — even if it did make him look bald on the front of his head — since, after all, the Great War had been fought and won to, amongst other things, retain the right to slightly ludicrous hairstyles. He was dressed in a bright yellow coat, with crimson faces on the cuff and collar, fiery orange breeches, and high black leather boots that went up almost as high as his knees. A golden badge, fashioned in the shape of a blazing sun with a ruby set in the centre of it, was pinned upon his right breast, the symbol of the House of Kiro.

“She was my commander,” Turnus said, “when I worked for SDC security. She was … more than a leader; she was … a mentor almost. She introduced me to her sister; she was … I thought that she was the model of what an Atlesian ought to be.”

Elagabalus snorted. “It sounds as though perhaps she was.”

Turnus didn’t respond to that; rather, he said, “I … I knew her. I thought I knew her.”

Elagabalus smirked. “If you were so close, should I be worried about Camilla?”

The temperature in the room dropped by several degrees as Turnus rose to his feet, stalking across the room; he didn’t need his semblance to loom over Elagabalus; the natural difference in their heights was enough to do that all on its own.

“Would you like to repeat that?” Turnus said. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you the first time.”

Elagabalus squirmed in place, his whole body shimmying first one way and then the other as he dry washed his hands. “I … no. No, I said nothing, nothing at all.” He let out a little nervous laugh.

“Hmm,” Turnus murmured as he turned away. As shocked as he was by these revelations, he wasn’t about to let someone — even an old school friend — get away with implying that he mistreated Camilla.

He would rather cut off his own hand than turn it against her.

Nevertheless, as he walked back towards the bed, he could not help but feel as though he had let her down, if only by association.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said.

“Perhaps it isn’t true,” Elagabalus suggested.

“They wouldn’t have made these arrests unless they were certain,” Turnus declared, sitting back down on the bed once more. “Accusations like these would not get made lightly. And if it were not true, then Mister Schnee would be defending his people, not cooperating fully with the investigation.”

“Are you sure about that?” Elagabalus asked. “If it gets the law off his own back, then what reason does he have not to cooperate, true or not?”

Turnus frowned. “Are you suggesting that Mister Schnee wouldn’t have any loyalty to his employees?”

Elagabalus laughed. “One breath, you talk about how we need to be more Atlesian, how we need to cut our ties with pointless traditions, how we need to shrug off that which holds us back, and then with another breath, you talk about loyalty.”

“Because loyalty is not a pointless tradition,” Turnus replied.

“Isn’t it?” Elagabalus asked.

“Without loyalty, how can there be trust?” Turnus asked.

“'Trust'?” Elagabalus repeated. He shrugged. “Well, at any rate, they will be pleased in the Guildhall to learn of this. It will give them ammunition in their struggle.”

“Yes, I suppose it will,” Turnus murmured. “Your family has interests in mines, doesn’t it?”

“As it happens, yes, it does,” Elagabalus answered. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t as well.”

“No, I sold those,” Turnus said. “I bought shares in the Schnee Dust Company with the proceeds.” That seemed like a very good idea at the time, perhaps less so now.

Elagabalus let out a sort of snorting chuckle that he made some effort to restrain. “Bad luck. Still, you have other sources of revenue.”

“Oh, I’m well aware that there are others who are worse off than I am,” Turnus said. “Those poor souls in Atlas, for a start.”

“Your old boss, or the people she was enslaving?”

“Her victims,” Turnus said quietly. “I had … no idea. None at all. I never even imagined.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me,” Elagabalus said. “After all, in the old days, our ancestors would have done as much, or worse.”

“No doubt,” Turnus admitted, “but these aren’t the old days anymore.”

“More’s the pity,” Elagabalus muttered.

“'Pity'?” Turnus asked. “Pity that the faunus are no longer our slaves?”

Elagablus held up one hand pacifically. “Pity that we are no longer a power to be feared and respected,” he said. “Pity that we must haggle like fishwives in the market for what is rightfully ours, that we must give up to the thief what the thief deems valuable in order to secure the return of what is our own. My own. Your family once stood on the left hand of the Imperial Throne, my family has Imperial blood through marriage in generations gone by, yet look at us now! You are a glorified bodyguard, and I am a courier!”

“The past is past, at the risk of verging upon cliché,” Turnus declared. “Mistral must look to the future if it is to rise again.”

“As Atlas has?”

“Not in all respects, clearly,” Turnus muttered. “But yes, broadly, as Atlas has.”

“And yet we must be loyal to one another.”

“You say that as if there is some contradiction you have cleverly spotted that exposes the fallacy of my argument,” Turnus said.

“Who were you loyal to, when you were in Atlas?” Elagabalus asked.

Turnus’ jaw clenched. “I was loyal to my family, as I always have been,” he said. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of. Ufens!”

The door into the stateroom opened, and Ufens shuffled in. “Yes, my lord?”

“Escort Lord Kiro back to his stateroom, or wherever else aboard ship he wishes to go,” Turnus said. “Just make you keep an eye on him. You and Murranus.”

Ufens bowed his head. “As you say, my lord. After you, lord.”

“Yes, well,” Elagabalus said. “I … I think I might see if the bar is open, get a little aperitif.”

He clasped the lapels of his jacket, straightening them as if they needed straightening, before he strode out of Turnus’ room. Ufens followed, and the door soon closed behind them.

Turnus looked down at his scroll; he was still holding it in his hands; he hadn’t let it go since he had turned off the news.

Calliope Ferny; was I blind, or were you very good at hiding the truth?

He couldn’t bring himself to consider that the allegations against her were not true; he had seen the pictures of the victims, what had been done to them; besides, although he had evaded Atlesian justice, he had sufficient respect for the Atlesian authorities to believe that they would not accuse someone without proof.

That was how he had evaded what they called justice, after all.

No, Calliope had done this, much as he wished that it were not so. She had held faunus captive against their will, burned their flesh, branded them like cattle.

“She’s so scared of everything,” Turnus whined. “Every time I go near her, she acts like she’s going to faint or start crying.”

“She’s been through a lot, son,” Father replied, from where he sat enthroned in his armchair. “Give her time.”

Turnus paused for a moment. “What … what happened to her?”

Father paused for a moment, before a weary sigh escaped from him. “You’re too young to understand,” he said, “or at least, I hope you’re still too young to understand. And even if you weren’t, I … I don’t really want to think about it too much.”

Turnus closed his eyes. I feel as though I’ve let you down too.

He opened his eyes again and made his first call, to his broker, a man named Chrysus. Chrysus was a round-faced little man, balding slightly on top of his head, with a pair of spectacles as round as his head perched upon his nose and several gold teeth in his mouth, that glinted when he smiled.

“My lord!” he cried. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Would you like to review your portfolio? You usually make an appointment, and it is a little earlier in the quarter than usual, but—”

“No, I don’t need to review everything at this time,” Turnus told him. “I want you to sell all my stock in the Schnee Dust Company.”

Chrysus’ eyebrows rose. “You’re a little late to be joining the panic, my lord; the share price has stopped tumbling, but it remains significantly below the level it was trading at before the Atlesian authorities started putting the boot in. I advise you to wait and see if the price rises; I can try and obtain an option for you to sell against any renewed depreciation—”

“Just sell the stock, will you, there’s a good fellow,” Turnus instructed him. “I’m aware that I’ll … will I lose money compared to the price I bought them at?”

“I’m afraid so, my lord, yes,” Chrysus said. “If you will recall, I did advise you that buying in a bull market was unlikely to yield great returns and was not without risk.”

“Yes, well, this isn’t about the money,” Turnus said. “This is about the principle of the thing. I cannot … I wish to sever my business ties with the SDC, in light of current events.”

Even though Mister Schnee was innocent, and a great many other employees too, nevertheless, the company as a whole had been profiting off the back of Calliope Ferny’s activities. And that meant that he had been profiting too. It made him feel dirty, even at this remove.

He found himself glad that he was making a loss.

“Of course, my lord,” Chrysus said, bowing his head slightly. “What should I do with the proceeds of the sale?”

“Donate one fifth of it to Traffic Stop,” Turnus instructed him. The name made the organization sound like it was involved in road safety, but it was actually a charity set up to help fight people trafficking in Mistral. His father had been a patron, and in his memory — and for Camilla — Turnus made a donation every year. “Invest the rest in … in Mistralian mining companies, good guild members, use your own judgement on precisely which enterprise or enterprises.”

“Back where you started, my lord,” Chrysus murmured. “Minus some lien.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Turnus murmured. “It is what it is; just get it done for me, will you?”

“At once, my lord.”

“Good,” Turnus said. “That’s all then, thank you.”

“Until next time, my lord.”

Turnus hung up on him. It doesn’t change anything, but it makes me feel better at least.

His next call was to Camilla.

It was nearly two in the afternoon here in the skies over Sanus, approaching Vale, so it would be evening in Mistral, but not so late that Camilla wouldn’t be awake still. Indeed, she answered the scroll swiftly, the image on his screen displaying just a hint of turquoise wrapped around her pale neck.

“Good evening,” he said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

She smiled. “Never, my lord. How goes it? Have you arrived in Vale?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “But soon enough. And it goes well enough.” He paused for a moment. “Have you heard the news?”

“About the Schnee Dust Company?” Camilla asked.

Turnus nodded.

“I have,” Camilla answered. “It is everywhere, throughout the city. The masters of the Mining Guild and the Union of Mineworkers have called a meeting in the Guildhall to discuss their response. It is rumoured they will call on the Council and the Steward to expel the Schnee Dust Company.”

“That would be bold of them, to take such a step,” Turnus said. “And I doubt that the Council would wish to offend Atlas by doing something like that.”

Mistral’s ancient guilds and livery companies had long attempted to resist the incursion of the SDC into Mistral by presenting a united front against it: the caravaneers would not move SDC goods or equipment, the merchants would neither sell to them nor buy their dust, no unionised miner would work for them, and anyone breaking ranks could expect to be expelled and blacklisted. The only thing they couldn’t do was stop the SDC from hiring Mistralian huntsmen to protect its interests in Anima. The SDC had responded by doing everything in-house: it moved its own materiel, it shipped everything it needed from Atlas, including labour — and now you had to wonder about the kind of labour that was being shipped in from the north.

Having the company thrown out of the kingdom would be a blessing to the Guildhall, no doubt, but Atlas might not take it well, and Turnus did not believe the Council would seek that kind of confrontation, especially with the world in its current state.

“You may be right, my lord,” Camilla said. “Those poor people.”

“Yes,” Turnus said quietly. “I … I didn’t know. I swear to you, I had no idea.”

Camilla’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Did you think I would believe you capable of such a thing?”

“I … wasn’t … I worked there.”

“I am sure that a great many people worked for the Schnee Dust Company, and even in its security, without being aware of this,” Camilla replied. “That you were amongst them, I did not doubt.”

“No?”

“If you were the kind of man who could go along with such conduct, you would have revealed it,” Camilla told him. She smiled, slightly and softly. “You do not conceal your feelings well.”

Turnus let out a sort of scoffing gasp. “I suppose I have little choice but to take that as a compliment.” He paused. “I didn’t know. I was right there, and I never saw it.”

“That is not your fault.”

“My father would have seen it,” Turnus said.

“Lord Rutulus was a good and great man,” Camilla said. “But a great many good men seem to have been deceived by what was happening in Atlas. Perhaps Lord Rutulus would have been one of them, perhaps not, but either way, you deserve no especial reproach for being amongst them. I … must confess I am surprised that those two faunus, Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash, were allowed to bring this to light. I would have thought…”

“That it would all be covered up?” Turnus guessed.

“Perhaps, or perhaps I am simply … Atlas has exceeded my expectations, it seems.”

“You had low expectations of Atlas?”

“My experience with Atlesians has been that they are a rather coarse and brutish people, my lord,” Camilla reminded him.

“Of course,” Turnus murmured. “They were … yes, well…” He hesitated for a second. “Am I missing anything?”

“Lady Ming wished to hire security for her daughter’s birthday party, my lord,” Camilla said.

“They’d booked a venue, rather than having it in the house, I suppose,” Turnus said.

“Yes, the Fluct-light,” Camilla replied. “I assigned Caeculus and Halaesus.”

“Fair choices,” Turnus replied. Security for a birthday party meant door work, keeping uninvited guests out of the club, the sort of easy, profitable work that his men enjoyed — for the most part, anyway. “Anything else?”

“Coloratura has been in touch; she is in the planning stages of a new tour,” Camilla said, “but very little has been decided yet, and we agreed that discussion of the security arrangements could wait until your return.”

“No difficult engagements, then?”

“No,” Camilla said, “the world is quiet for now, at least for Rutulian Security; however, there is one more thing I think you should be aware of: I have heard from Messapus and Venulus that Lady Terri-Belle has approached them both, hoping to lure them away from your service into the Imperial Guard.”

“Is that so?” Turnus growled. “How did they respond?”

“They told me they had declined, my lord,” Camilla said. “Apparently, they prefer a regular wage and a degree of comfort; however, it is something I thought you should be aware of.”

“Indeed,” Turnus muttered. Of all the cheek, to steal my men out from under me when my back is turned. “And how is Juturna?”

Camilla smiled. “As well as always. She has been invited to Yan Ming’s birthday party and requires a new dress.”

“Of course,” Turnus said, smiling himself. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I won’t disturb you anymore.”

“Enjoy Vale, my lord.”

“I am looking forward to meeting Miss Rose,” Turnus said, “but apart from that, I shall be glad to be home again.”

“Nevertheless, I hope you find some joy in it,” Camilla said. “Goodbye, my lord.”

“Goodbye,” Turnus said. He hung up again.

Two down, one to go.

Although, as he sat there, he actually debated whether or not he should call Calla. He didn’t believe that she was involved … but he hadn’t suspected Calliope either.

But they had not arrested Calla.

And it must be hard for her, to find out what her sister had done.

And so he called her. It took her some time to answer, the scroll vibrating in his hand as he waited, seconds passing, rising to over a minute, creeping towards a minute and a half.

He was about to end the call himself when she answered. Her hair was dishevelled, and her eyes were red, as though she had been crying.

“Turnus,” she murmured. “I … what are you—?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing,” Turnus told her. “I … heard the news.”

“Of course you did,” Calla whispered. She glanced away from the screen of her scroll for a second. “I … I didn’t know. I had no idea. I swear to … on my parents’ memories, I didn’t know.”

“I believe you,” Turnus said, quietly but firmly at the same time.

“I don’t know how Calli could do something like this,” Calla said. “I mean … the way we grew up, in Mantle, I just … how could she … how could she?”

“I don’t know,” Turnus said. “What about you? Are you in any trouble?”

“I haven’t spoken to the police since they shut down head office,” Calla said. “But I have reporters outside my house, and protesters, and … it feels like all anyone cares about is that I’m her sister. I’m … my sister is a monster, but since she’s in jail waiting for her arraignment, people are looking at me instead.”

“Do you think you’d be better away from Atlas?” Turnus suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’d still be welcome in Mistral,” Turnus said. “Come and stay, for as long as you like, as my guest. I can protect you and your family, if you need it.”

Calla sniffed, wiping her eyes with one hand. “That … that’s sweet of you,” she said. “Especially since … what about … Camilla? That was her name, wasn’t it? Didn’t you tell me that—?”

“Yes,” Turnus said. “She was. But you aren’t guilty of your sister’s crimes, and Camilla is mature enough to understand that.”

“Well, like I said, that’s very sweet of you,” Calla said, “but my job is here, my life is here; I … I don’t want to uproot my family and my whole life and run away to Mistral just because I’m having a bad day. I’m sure that this will blow over. I hope that it’ll blow over.”

“My offer stands, if it does not,” Turnus said, “but I hope that things improve for you.”

“Thanks,” Calla said. “I really, really hope so too.”

“A spokesman for the Atlesian military announced that they had liberated four more illegal facilities. Those who were being held there are presently receiving medical treatment, and the Atlesian Council has voted to provide assistance with rehabilitation and repatriation if required.”

“Those poor people,” Ruby murmured, as everyone sat at or around their table in the canteen watched or listened to the news coming out of Pyrrha’s scroll.

“At least Leaf’s okay,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah, and that’s great,” Ruby said, “but what about everyone else?”

“Then … yeah, it’s rough,” Sunset agreed.

“I can hardly believe it,” Pyrrha said quietly. “Obviously, discrimination against the faunus is not something one can be unaware of, but … this?”

“It seems as though it’s all getting worse everywhere, doesn’t it?” Ruby asked. “I mean, what’s happening in Vale, and now this?”

“This has been going on for a long time,” Sunset pointed out. “A very long time. Whatever’s happening in Vale right now, it’s nothing to do with this, and it isn’t part of some pattern of racism breaking out suddenly across Remnant, unless what’s breaking out suddenly is people noticing the racism.”

“That’s not fair, Sunset,” Ruby said. “Vale isn’t usually like this; something has changed.”

“She’s right,” Yang agreed. “Ruby and I didn’t grow up in the city, but we’ve visited it often enough, and I never saw anything like what you told us happened to those kids you know. Someone following them down the street, hurling insults at them? That’s not normal; something has happened around here.”

“Something has gotten more overt,” Sunset replied, “but feelings don’t just come out of nowhere; they were always there, just waiting for an opportunity to come out.”

“But what opportunity?” Ruby asked. “Why now?”

“The White Fang attacks?” Jaune suggested. “After the Breach, maybe people who hate the faunus feel like it’s okay to admit it, since…”

“Since what?” asked Sun.

Jaune shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Nothing, I—”

“No, go on, you about to say something.”

“Dude,” Neptune said.

“Jaune didn’t mean anything by it,” Pyrrha said.

“Then why doesn’t he finish his sentence?” demanded Sun.

“That’s enough,” Sunset declared, her voice as firm as a brick dropping onto the table in front of Sun. “You can be upset about this if you want to, nobody here is going to tell you that you can’t be, but Jaune had nothing to do with this, and he doesn’t deserve to have it taken out on him.”

Sun stared at her, looking straight into Sunset’s eyes. “Doesn’t this make you angry?” he asked.

“To be honest, at the moment I’m more surprised that you, of all people, are morally outraged about all this,” Sunset replied.

“Me?” Sun gasped. “What do you mean, me of all people?”

“You never seemed to care about any of this stuff before now,” Sunset pointed out. “And by the rules of Vacuan society, didn’t all of these people have it coming for being too weak to stop it being done to them?”

“That isn’t how Vacuo works,” Sun insisted. “And as for … yeah, it’s true, I wasn’t … in Vacuo, we don’t have that kind of discrimination, so I didn’t think about it too much, but … it’s different hearing about this, seeing the pictures.” He shook his head. “It makes you think. It’s making me think, anyway.”

“How about you think about how this isn’t Jaune’s fault before you start getting snippy with him in future?” Sunset muttered. “Especially since he might be right. Perhaps the White Fang attacks … and the Breach, perhaps it did give people in Vale a license to be as bigoted as they’d always wanted to be, because … because they could claim that they were delivering righteous retribution or something.”

“Righteous retribution hardly seemed to be in the mind of that contemptible ruffian we ran into,” Pyrrha pointed out. “He didn’t mention the Breach at all.”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “No, he didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that he could have felt emboldened by it. I mean, if Ruby and Yang are right, and this isn’t normal Valish behaviour—”

“It isn’t,” Yang insisted.

“Then something had to happen to cause the change, right?” Sunset asked.

“Vale’s still doing better than Atlas, by the sounds of it,” Nora said.

“I’m not sure that what is happening in Atlas was motivated by racism,” Ren declared. “The arrested head of security was a faunus, after all, and people … people with no families, and no one to miss them, are taken advantage of the world over, whether they’re faunus or human.”

Nora slipped her hands into the crook of Ren’s arm, clasping both hands around his slender bicep and drawing herself closer to him.

“So we should just ignore the fact that the victims were all faunus and act like that had nothing to do with it?” demanded Sun.

“What’s gotten into you?” Yang asked.

“What do you think?” Sun cried, getting to his feet. “I never thought that … I always thought that the White Fang were the problem, that they were the ones causing trouble, that they were the ones who went around hurting people to get what they wanted while being holier than thou about it to anyone who disagreed with them.”

“They are,” Yang told him.

“Are they?” Sun asked. “Or are they just…” He paused for a moment. “I don’t see how Blake can want to live in Atlas, after this.”

“Blake and Rainbow Dash brought this to light,” Sunset pointed out.

The news had made a point of that, along with emphasising Calliope Ferny’s faunus nature: a crime committed by a faunus, that was exposed by the action of a pair of faunus. No doubt, there was a propagandising purpose in that — this is faunus doing things to other faunus, and more faunus stopped them! Please don’t call us racist! Please keep buying dust from the SDC! — but that didn’t change the fact that it was true, and Sunset had no doubt that it was true, because neither Blake nor Rainbow would allow their names to be attached to something they hadn’t actually done. Rainbow would never steal glory from anyone else, and Blake wouldn’t countenance her identity being used to deflect from actual pressing issues.

If the news said that the two of them had dragged this darkness into the light, then they had done it.

“And good for them,” Sun said. “I still don’t get why that’s not enough to get them to run from that place. How can they want anything to do with a kingdom that treats the faunus like that?”

“Because Blake thinks it can be changed for the better,” Sunset said, “and so does Rainbow, to the extent that she also thinks it needs changing.”

“Even if they’re right, why do they have to be the ones to do it?” Sun demanded. “Shouldn’t humans be the ones working to make things better?”

Sunset shrugged. “I suppose they feel like if you don’t get in the game, you can’t complain about the way it’s played. They might not be right, but…”

“I’m starting to wonder if maybe Blake was right when she was in the White Fang,” Sun muttered.

“Dude!” Neptune exclaimed. “Come on, that … that’s too far.”

“Is it?” Sun asked. “I … maybe it is. I don’t know, I … don’t know.” He walked away, heading towards the exit, his tail dragging along the ground behind him.

He didn’t look back.

“Are you going to go after him?” Yang asked.

It took Sunset a moment to realise that she was talking to her. “Me? Why me?”

“You’re both faunus,” Yang pointed out.

Not exactly. “That doesn’t mean that I have anything useful, insightful, or otherwise valuable to say to him.” She glanced at Neptune. “You know, he’s actually quite sheltered, isn’t he?”

“I’m not sure that I’d call being from Vacuo sheltered,” Neptune replied. “But … I guess I know what you mean.”

“I mean that he might not be so upset with this if he’d grown up with the kind of background ambient racism of Atlas or Mistral,” Sunset said. “Or Vale, depending upon interpretation.”

“That’s true,” Neptune agreed. “I’m not a faunus, so I can’t say whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but … this stuff’s been a shock to him. He doesn’t mean what he said about the White Fang; he just needs time.”

Or maybe he’s actually right, Sunset thought. She didn’t say it, because she didn’t want the argument with everyone, but … she was not a faunus by birth, and so the justice of the faunus cause in and of itself did not speak to her except in as much as racism affected people she cared about, but as an abstract … obviously, it would be for the best if everyone could coexist peacefully as the different races of ponies did in Equestria, working together for a better world where nobody suffered from discrimination at the hands or hoofs of anyone else. Apart from anything else, it was, on the evidence of Equestria, the best way to advance a society. However, failing that, a situation where one group was allowed to mistreat another, and that was deplorable in the abstract, but the moment those being mistreated did anything about it that was monstrous was … pretty lopsided. And not just for the faunus either; Sunset was pretty sure that was the root of why Cinder was the way she was: yes, all those rather bloodthirsty Mistralian heroes hadn’t helped, but at the root of it was a world in which killing your abuser was held to be worse than the abuse itself.

Blake and Rainbow Dash thought that if you worked hard enough, then you could make something like an Equestria on Remnant, and good for them for thinking it. Sunset had nothing but respect for what they were committing themselves to. But, at the same time, if Sun’s reaction to this news was to think that it was a bit much that faunus could be put in what were, essentially, slave camps, be branded with the letters SDC as Adam had been, but weren’t allowed do anything to fight back, then Sunset wouldn’t blame him for it.

Yang sighed. “So many problems.” She grinned at Pyrrha. “It’s a pity that we can’t all seek out our troubles and beat them up, right, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “As Blake told me herself, I was fortunate that there was someone on whom I could focus and vent my displeasure.”

“How’s it going, by the way?” asked Yang. “With … all that stuff.”

“I decided to let Arslan release the video of the battle, with a few edits,” Pyrrha replied. “Some people are now insisting it was all staged, but Arslan tells me that views are high and comments are mostly positive. Although it hasn’t stopped a petition to have my honours stripped from the Temple of Victory and my name struck from the rolls of tournament victors.”

“Can they do that?” Jaune asked.

“If the Temple decides that I have disgraced myself to the extent that I no longer deserve to have my name upon the sacred rolls or my honours displayed in the sacred place, then they can,” Pyrrha replied. “It has been done before, in cases of extreme dishonour.”

“And yet, you don’t seem particularly upset by it,” Sunset pointed out, because Pyrrha’s voice and tone were really quite calm about the whole thing.

“I have done what I can do,” Pyrrha replied, still sounding very calm considering. “I have shown people the truth; if they do not want to see or are determined to believe ill of me in spite of the evidence, then there is nothing I can do to change their minds.” She smiled softly. “I know what I am now, or perhaps I should say I know what I am once again, or … I know what I am, and let that be enough. If they wish to take my laurels down, then let them; I need them not.”

Sunset snorted. “You’re a better person than I am; I’d be spitting feathers.”

“Well, I still have some hope that common sense, and my fans who are apparently organising against it, will prevail,” Pyrrha admitted. “But if not, then I can live with it.”

That fight really did help, didn’t it?

You see, Twilight? I told you fighting was the way to solve problems.

“What do you think’s going to happen to the SDC?” asked Ruby, bringing the conversation back on topic.

“They’ll wriggle free somehow,” Sunset said.

“Kind of cynical, don’t you think?” Yang replied.

“Sadly, it is true that those with money and power often escape the consequences that befall those without,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yeah,” Neptune agreed. “It’s true in Mistral, and probably true in Atlas too.”

“But people won’t just forget about this, right?” Yang said. “I mean, it’s too huge.”

“We’ll see,” Sunset said. “But, even if people do forget…”

“What?” Ruby asked.

“Well … Sun might not be the only one thinking that the White Fang have more of a point that they’d considered before,” Sunset said.

Lord Kiro was staying at a hotel in Vale, with the entirety of his party, but the Mistralian embassy had sent a car to collect him and Turnus — and Lausus and Tarpeia as escorts — and convey them to the consulate. There, into an interior room with no windows and only one door in or out.

"Lausus, Tarpeia, guard the door," Turnus instructed them.

"Yes, my lord," Lausus replied.

Turnus said nothing further to him as he and Kiro followed the ambassador into the room. It was an office space, by the looks of it, albeit the office space of someone important enough to have a door which locked and several filing cabinets which also locked. Judging by the picture sitting on the desk of a young girl and a woman to whom Turnus and Elagabalus had been introduced to as the ambassador's wife when they arrived, he guessed that it must be the ambassador's own office.

Else there was a lot about his wife which he didn't know.

A painting of Mistral, viewed from one of the nearby hills, by the great artist Hesiod, sat in a solid frame of varnished wood upon the back of the wall; so too did a somewhat faded poster for The White Wolf, a great tournament champion — her record of three consecutive victories had only been eclipsed last year by Pyrrha Nikos — from somewhat over a generation ago who had recently passed away. A Mistralian flag sat in the corner of the room, while the desk was cluttered with little models of dragons that seemed to be drawn from every myth that ever featured one.

Sitting alongside the family photo, nestled amongst the dragons as though they kept guard over it, was a box, a wooden casket about as high as a hand but twice as wide, carved with images of soldiers, traditionally armed with shields and spears, marching around it.

"Of course, you can't take this with you just yet," Lord Wong said in his guttural, slightly accented voice, as he approached the desk. The Mistralian Ambassador to Vale was a middle-aged man, well built without being portly, with a round, slightly pock-marked face and very short dark hair that was only compensated for by the decidedly modest moustache and goatee upon his upper lip and chin respectively. He wore a dark suit in the Valish style and walked with the aid of an ebony cane, with a gold head fashioned in the shape of an eagle. It tapped upon the grey floor tiles as he walked towards the box. "First Councillor Emerald will formally hand it over to Mistral at the reception tomorrow evening, but we can keep it here in the embassy until then, and I thought that you might appreciate a look at it."

"I would," Elagabalus whispered, almost reverently. "Very much so."

Lord Wong smiled. "I've been lobbying for this ever since I was appointed ambassador almost ten years ago now. There have been times when I thought this day would never come." He reached out and opened the wooden cask. "Behold: the Heart of Mistral."

"'Sharper than diamonds, redder than blood,'" Turnus whispered, quoting an old saying that had been said of the Heart in days long ago, before it was lost to the Valish.

The Heart of Mistral was very large, too large for him to have placed it in his palm and enclosed it from sight within his fingers; he might have touched his thumb with his middle finger, but the blood red gem would have been visible regardless. It was not quite heart-shaped — those who first dug it from the ground and then cut it had not been so romantic, but nevertheless, there was enough about the roughly hexagonal shape to suggest it, in conjunction with knowledge of where it had been found and, of course, the beautiful colour. In particular, it had a very sharp point at the bottom — so sharp, it could almost have been used as a weapon — compared with a much softer upper side. Light seemed to glint off it from all directions, giving it a sparkle from wherever it was looked at.

It had been worn in various different ways throughout history: the Nikos princess to whom it had been given on her marriage to Lord Kiro's ancestor had worn it set in a pearl necklace; a later Lady Kiro had preferred a diamond necklace, another still had worn it as a brooch, and at times, Lords of the Kiro family had worn it as part of Sun badges like the one upon Elagabalus' chest. The last Lord Kiro to possess it, he who had perished at the Battle of Four Sovereigns, had worn it on the turban that he wore into battle. Now it was on its own, devoid of setting or additional ornament, only the ruby, the ruby which, he had to say, was quite dazzling enough.

"Incredible," Elagabalus said. "Accounts, pictures … they fail to do it justice." He paused for a moment. "Lord Wong, would you leave Lord Rutulus and myself alone for a moment?"

Lord Wong hesitated. "I—"

"I trust that our honour places us above suspicion of seeking to abscond with the Heart," Elagabalus said, his voice prickling a little.

Lord Wong smiled thinly. "Of course, lords. I understand that this reunion with your family legacy must be … emotional. I will leave you in peace for a moment." Again, his cane tapped upon the floor as he walked to the door, leaving the wooden box open and the Heart of Mistral exposed to view.

No sooner had the door closed behind him than Elagabalus strode over to the desk, the tails of his coat flapping behind him, and lifted the ruby out of its box and held it up directly to the lights that hung from the ceiling.

It sparkled so brightly that Turnus had to turn away, his eyes were dazzled by it.

"Beautiful," Elagabalus said, "absolutely beautiful, no? 'Sharper than diamonds, redder than blood.'"

"Not blood, I think," Turnus said. "More…"

"More what?" asked Elagabalus.

More the red of Camilla's eyes, was what Turnus had been thinking; he found it strangely easy to imagine the ruby against her fair skin, worn on a white gold chain around her neck. But that was very strange to think, and would have been stranger still to say, and so he said, "Red like eyes, I think, red eyes, rather than blood."

"'Red eyes'?" Elagabalus repeated. "What are you talking about? It doesn't matter. At any rate … stunning." He held onto the jewel, but he did lower it down from the light, enabling Turnus to look at him again. "Does it seem right to you that this treasure, this heirloom of my house, should pass from a museum in Vale to a museum in Mistral, and I am accorded nothing but the honour of bearing it homeward?"

"It should be yours," Turnus agreed. "What claim does Mistral have to it if you have none, after all? But the Steward and the Council have decreed it otherwise."

Elagabalus snorted. "The Steward, the Council; I am descended from the Imperial line through marriage, as people will remember when I return home with this, the bridal gift given to Lavinia. Why should I obey the commands of a mere Steward or a Council of elected mediocrities?"

"You…" Turnus glanced towards the door. "You wish to claim the throne?"

"Why not?" Elagabalus asked, placing the Heart of Mistral back in the wooden casket. "I have the right, I have the blood."

"Perhaps, if the line of Nikos was extinct," Turnus pointed out. "It is not; there is a direct descendant living yet."

"That's a rather absurd term, don't you think? 'A direct descendant'; how is her descent any more direct than mine?"

"She has the name," Turnus said.

"She does not want the throne," Elagabalus pointed out.

"True," Turnus allowed. "But that does not mean … our present system is poor, true, and I will allow that you have a claim, if not the best at present. I will even say that you might be a reasonable enough Emperor—"

"I thank you for that lukewarm compliment."

"Any sovereign would be better than the circus of self-serving greed to which we are presently subjected," Turnus muttered, "but just because you want to be Emperor does not mean anyone else wants you on the throne. The people seem depressingly wedded to our current system of rule. You would be arrested at once, and lucky to escape with your life, let alone your wealth, lands, titles."

"Not with your support," Elagabalus said.

Turnus was silent for a moment, his eyes widening, his mouth hanging slightly open. "You … is that what this is about? You want my swords, my men, to put you on the throne?"

"They are supposed to be skilled," Elagabalus pointed out.

"My men have the hearts of tigers, every one," Turnus declared, "but they would each need to fight with the strength of gods to … do you have any idea what you are asking of me?"

"I'm asking you to help me make Mistral a better place," said Elagabalus.

"You're asking me to stick my head into a lion's mouth," Turnus snapped. "I have less than a hundred men, all told; so few might triumph over the Imperial Guard, but they could not hold all the kingdom, or even the palace, once the slopes of Mistral rose up to tear you down."

"You are afraid," Elagabalus said, his lip curling in distaste.

"I have responsibilities," Turnus replied firmly. "What would become of Juturna, when my head was on a pike alongside yours as a warning to traitors?"

He was not blind to the possibility that he might die in the course of his work; his will named Camilla as Juturna’s guardian and the trustee of his estate until his sister married — as well as leaving her Rutulian Security in her own right as sole owner. But if Camilla were to die alongside him in some foredoomed and farcical coup attempt, what then? There was no one else he trusted to take care of his sister.

"And so you will do nothing?"

"If doing nothing keeps my people alive, yes," Turnus said.

"Though Mistral declines ever further?" Elagabalus asked.

Turnus was silent for a moment. "Did you know that Tarpeia, outside the door, is a champion axe thrower?"

"No," Elagabalus murmured. "I can't say that I did."

"It's not a very well-known sport, but very competitive, with spectators who make up for their small numbers with immense enthusiasm," Turnus explained. "The trophies she has won are rather small, but then, it's the honour, and the glory of victory, that counts, is it not?"

"What is your point?"

"The point is that these are my men," Turnus said. "My retainers, my family; their lives matter to me. I will not throw their lives away, not even for Mistral. If you would do this thing, then raise men of your own, that you may be callous with their lives, for you will not be careless with mine."

Elagabalus was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. "Of course. Of course. As you say, you have your responsibilities, and those responsibilities are not to me, or even to Mistral. I apologise if I have given you any offence. Will you dine with me tonight, let me treat you, as a show of my contrition?"

"Kind of you, but no," Turnus said. "I'm having dinner with a friend of Juturna's tonight, my first time meeting her."

"A friend of Juturna's, here?" Elagabalus asked. "Who?"

"A Beacon student," Turnus explained. "Her name is Ruby Rose."

“Uh, hello?” Ruby said as she answered her scroll, surprise making her voice go higher up in pitch than normal.

The man whose face appeared in the screen of her scroll had long black hair with streaks of red in it, like the embers burning amongst hot coals. His eyes were blue, and his features were sharp, without any softness in them.

“Are you … Turnus Rutulus?” Ruby asked, because he looked similar to the picture that Juturna had sent her.

“I have the honour,” he said, smiling, which provided a little of the softness that wasn’t otherwise there on his face. “And do I have the pleasure of addressing Miss Ruby Rose?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “That’s me. It … it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Miss Rose,” Turnus said. “As it happens, I’m in Vale at the moment; did Juturna tell you I was coming?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Yes, she did.” Although with everything that’s been going on with Pyrrha, I kind of forgot a little.

“Excellent,” Turnus said. “I did wonder if she might forget. In any case, it won’t come as a shock to you if I ask for the pleasure of your company at dinner tonight?”

Ruby had forgotten about that too, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to say so, especially as it came rushing back to her. “Oh, y-yeah, of course. I … I’d like that.”

“Wonderful,” Turnus said. “If I pick you up at seven, will that be agreeable to you?”

“Pick me up?”

“Yes, I was going to hire an airship and fly up there, unless that will be a problem?”

“I don’t think so,” Ruby said, because as far as she knew, there wasn’t a rule against private airships landing on the docking pads; they didn’t get a lot of use in the evenings anyway, so Turnus shouldn’t have any trouble finding a spot. “And seven, yeah, that’ll be okay.”

She wondered if he was going to ask where she wanted to go to eat, but he didn’t; he just said, “That’s settled then. I look forward to meeting you in person, Miss Rose.”

“Me too,” Ruby said. “Um … bye.”

“Farewell until this evening,” Turnus said, and then hung up on her.

Ruby snapped her scroll shut and looked around the dorm room. “I’d completely forgotten all about this,” she admitted.

“That’s … understandable,” Pyrrha murmured. “I did draw rather a lot of attention to myself. Speaking of which, this reminds me that I’ve been invited to a reception at the Mistralian embassy tomorrow night, to celebrate the return of the Heart of Mistral; Jaune, would you mind coming with me as my plus one?”

Jaune hesitated for a moment. “Is that guy going to be there?”

“Very probably yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “I know this is terribly short notice, but it just got driven out of my mind. If you don’t want to—”

“No, I’ll go with you; of course, I will,” Jaune said. “I wouldn’t make you show up alone.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Well, if you hadn’t wanted to, then I would have asked Sunset,” she said. “But I’m glad you’re willing to go.”

“Thanks very much,” Sunset muttered, although she was smiling. “As for you, Ruby, as much as you might have forgotten, it doesn’t seem to matter too much, he’s got everything in hand by the looks of things.”

“But I haven’t had a chance to think about anything!” Ruby cried. “What should I wear? What should I say? When Juturna told me that her brother wanted to meet me, it didn’t feel like a big deal because I was having a fight with Yang and because it wasn’t happening right this instant, but now it is happening tonight, and I don’t do well with this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing? New people?” Sunset asked. “You’re the most outgoing person I know.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Sunset cried. “You hit it off with Penny, you hit it off with Juturna, you hit it off with Leaf, you make new friends like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Except that Turnus isn’t here to make friends, is he?” Jaune said.

“Well, maybe not, but so what? He’ll make one anyway,” Sunset declared. “What are you worried about?”

Ruby clasped her hands together in her lap where sat on her bed. “It sounds … pretty formal, don’t you think?”

“Turnus will probably choose a high class establishment to dine,” Pyrrha agreed. “Or at the very least, since I don’t believe he’s very familiar with Vale, it will be somewhere expensive.”

“Somewhere the portions are really tiny?” Ruby asked.

“Quite possibly,” Pyrrha admitted. “If you’re worried about what to wear … I would wear something formal that suits the setting and shows … a degree of respect for the location and for Turnus himself. But at the same time, this isn’t a date, and Turnus is nine years older than you—”

“He is?” Ruby asked. “But Juturna’s only about my age.”

“Some families end up with big age differences,” Jaune said. “My oldest sister Rouge is fourteen years older than I am.”

“I guess so,” Ruby admitted. “Sorry, Pyrrha, what were you saying?”

“I was just going to say that since this isn’t a date, and Turnus is much older than you, you don’t want to wear anything too attractive,” Pyrrha said.

Ruby frowned a little as she considered all of that. “I … Pyrrha, that doesn’t really help.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “Why don’t we take a look at what you’ve got and see if we can find anything suitable?”

That sounded reasonable enough, as ideas went, and so all four of them went to the big walk-in closet that sat behind the wall on the left-hand side of the dorm room, with a door directly opposite the bathroom door on the right. Inside the closet, once the light was on, they could see the plastic dividers that separated the parts of the closet belonging to Sunset, Jaune — he had the smallest section — Pyrrha — she had the largest – and Ruby. The closet was large enough that they could all get inside — or at least, Ruby, Pyrrha, and Sunset could, with Jaune hanging back a little bit — and rummage through Ruby’s section of the closet, making scraping noises as they moved wire hangers back and forth across the metal rail that ran beneath the ceiling.

“How about this one?” Ruby asked, as she pulled down a red dress with a knee length skirt, an illusion neckline and a black sash tied around the waist.

“That looks very cute,” Pyrrha said, “but I’m not sure—”

“I’m not sure that Ruby is going to have anything in here that doesn’t look at least cute,” Sunset pointed out. “I mean, if it was ugly, then why would she have it?”

“I never said to wear something ugly,” Pyrrha replied.

“No, you didn’t,” Sunset admitted. “But … don’t you think it’s possible that you might be projecting just a little bit here? I can see why you wouldn’t want to wear anything attractive around this guy, but he’s not likely to try and hit on Ruby, is he?” She paused. “Is he?”

“I don’t believe so, no,” Pyrrha said. “Turnus has his faults, but I’ve heard nothing to make me think that that is one of them. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to look at a few more choices.” She began to look through the items on the rack. “What about … hmm, you really don’t have anything that isn’t pretty cute, do you, Ruby?”

“Thanks, I think,” Ruby said.

“I think this is fine,” Sunset said, holding the red dress with the black sash that Ruby had gotten down from the railing.

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “What about … this one?”

She pulled down another dress down off the rack. This dress, too, was red, with a skirt that also extended just past the knees to the upper calves, although this skirt was pleated, a fact that served to help disguise the fact that it was barely A-line. It was a one-piece, the bodice the same red as the skirt, extending up to the black collar which, although off the shoulder, was too high up to reveal anything. It had black bows upon the shoulders themselves, with little tails of fabric dropping down to where they would have tickled Ruby’s arms if she were wearing the dress.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “You say that this is too cute, and you pick that?”

“Well, you were the one who pointed out that Ruby didn’t have anything to wear that wasn’t cute,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Yes, yes I did, but still,” Sunset said. “I suppose it’s really Ruby’s choice, isn’t it? Which do you prefer?”

“Uh,” Ruby hesitated, looking back and forth between the dress in Sunset’s hand and that in Pyrrha’s. “I, uh … that one,” she said, pointing at the one that Pyrrha was holding. “Is that okay?”

“I think so,” Pyrrha said.

“And like I said, it’s your choice.”

Ruby sighed. “I’m going to have to wear high heels again, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, you will.”

Ruby groaned. “Okay, so, that’s what I’m wearing. What should I talk to him about?”

“Let him talk about himself,” Sunset suggested as she put the other dress back and wandered out of the closet. “Self-important people love the chance to go on about themselves; just smile, nod, and occasionally make sympathetic noises, and you’ll be fine.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully as she and Ruby followed her out of the closet and back into the dorm room. “Turnus will probably want to talk about Juturna.”

“Of course, right,” Ruby said. Yeah, that was obvious; that was the whole reason he wanted to meet her in the first place.

Sunset grinned. “Why are you so worried about this?”

“I’m not worried.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“I’m … concerned,” Ruby admitted. “But only because … Pyrrha said this was a big deal. What if … what if I can persuade him to—?”

“I wouldn’t advise you to try and do anything like that,” Pyrrha said.

“You don’t know what I was going to say!”

“No, but I can guess,” Pyrrha said. “It’s very sweet of you to think about it, but my relations with Turnus are … mine. You shouldn’t put yourself in the middle of them. Avoid the subject, if you can.”

“Okay,” Ruby murmured. “What about weapons, does he like weapons?”

“He likes Atlas, if that isn’t too simplistic a way of putting it,” Pyrrha said. “He may have an appreciation for technology; honestly, I don’t know him very well.”

“You’ll be fine,” Sunset assured her. “And even if it isn’t fine, then what does it really matter anyway? This isn’t someone you have to see again ever. Just show up, eat the fancy food, and don’t worry about it.”

“Is that what you used to do when it came to things like this?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “When I used to get invited to formal dinners — usually by people who were interested in my connections to Princess Celestia — I used to be terrified that I would embarrass the princess by behaving in a gauche way that would reflect badly on her and the way that she’d taught me. But you don’t have a Princess Celestia, and there isn’t anyone who Turnus Rutulus could think badly of if you don’t meet his expectations. Seriously, I’m telling you, there is nothing whatsoever to worry about.”

Ruby appreciated that Sunset was trying, but nevertheless, she didn’t entirely believe her. Nevertheless, as the hour approached, she put on the red dress with its pleated skirt and put on her black high heels once more — she still didn’t like the way they felt, or how it felt to move in them — and clasped a simple black choker around her neck.

Sunset went with her down to the docking pad. Pyrrha and Jaune stayed behind in the dorm room for obvious reasons, but Sunset was there beside her as she stood in front of the docking pads as seven o’clock drew nearer, watching the sky that had gone dark already as the Atlesian airships big and small patrolled the skies over Vale.

Ruby was wearing her cloak, partly because she felt comfortable doing so and partly because it was starting to get a little chilly out. She wrapped the cloak around herself a little bit as she waited.

A Bullhead rose up into view, its snub nose pointed towards them before it moved the last short distance horizontally to put it directly over the central docking pad, where it set down. The engines stopped, and the great doors on the right-hand side of the airship swung open.

Turnus Rutulus leapt down from out of the airship. He was wearing a tiger stripe suit, black and orange stripes alternating with one another right down his jacket and pants, all the way to his shoes, while beneath the jacket, he wore a white dress shirt with a red bow tie. Around his waist, he wore a black and white sash like a zebra — or a white tiger, Ruby realised abruptly, and felt glad that she had before she said anything about zebras.

His picture made him look tall and well-built, broad-shouldered and muscular; that was behind the point Ruby had made to Jaune, that he didn’t need to worry about his lack of the same because if Pyrrha had been interested in that, well … there was this guy.

His picture did him justice, just about. He really was a big guy, in every sense.

Except that, as he walked towards her, looming over her, he seemed to get smaller somehow, to not loom so much. He had looked taller and broader than Jaune; suddenly, he looked only about the same size, perhaps a little smaller, and more slender even.

“Miss Rose, I presume?” Turnus said.

“That’s me,” Ruby said. “But you can call me Ruby.”

“Very well,” he said, “then you may call me Turnus.”

Ruby wondered if she would have been expected to call him Lord Rutulus or my lord otherwise, like Sunset calling Pyrrha’s mother ‘Lady Nikos,’ but it seemed that she didn’t need to do that anyway, so that was a bullet dodged.

To be on the safe side, however, she attempted a curtsy — 'attempted' being the operative word; she nearly fell over. “It— it’s nice to meet you,” she said.

Turnus smiled. “Likewise,” he said. He looked at Sunset. “And you must be Sunset Shimmer, leader of Team Sapphire and bearer of Soteria.”

Sunset bowed to him, although it seemed to Ruby that she didn’t bow so deeply as she had to Lady Nikos when they were staying in Mistral. “It gladdens me to know that my reputation precedes me, lord.”

“Camilla had praise for your entire team in action against the Karkadann,” Turnus said, his blue eyes flickering between Ruby and Sunset. “And then this business with the Breach here in Vale. Your names are known, to say the least.” He paused for a moment. “Shall we go, Ruby?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ruby said. “See you, Sunset.”

“I’ll wait up,” Sunset said. “We all will.” She smiled. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Ruby said. Hopefully, anyway. She followed Turnus beneath the Bullhead’s wing, and then leapt up after him into the airship itself.

“Would you like to join me in the cockpit?” Turnus asked as he headed that way. “It will save me having to shout behind me.”

“Wait, you flew this yourself?” Ruby said as she noticed the absence of a pilot. “You can fly?”

“Yes,” Turnus said, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. “I learned when I worked for the Schnee Dust Company.”

“You worked for the SDC?” Ruby asked.

“Yes,” Turnus murmured. “Yes, I did.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment. “It’s rough, what happened to those people, isn’t it? In Atlas?”

Turnus took a deep breath. “Mmm,” he murmured. “It is, as you say, rather unfortunate.”

He didn’t say anything more about the subject, but began to flip the controls, turning the engines on once more, closing the doors to enclose the airship, and causing the Bullhead to lift up into the air before turning in place to face outwards towards Vale.

Turnus proved to be a decent pilot, guiding the airship nimbly through the skies, descending almost straight away as he flew from Beacon, so that he was beneath the level of the Atlesian warships, before straightening up for a while to fly above the rooftops of the city.

He glanced at her. “I’m told,” he said, “that when you met Juturna, she wanted to sneak out of the Lord Steward’s party with you and go to a club where they sold drugs.”

“Uh…” Ruby hesitated. “I mean … yeah, I guess.”

“Would you have gone with her?” Turnus asked.

“What?”

“If Camilla hadn’t intervened,” Turnus said. “Would you have gone with her?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“You don’t do drugs?”

“No. I mean, no, I don’t, but, what I meant was that … if I’d just snuck out of that party without telling anyone, then Sunset would have been really worried about where I was, and so would Pyrrha, and it would have been really rude to Pyrrha and her mom, I mean to Lady Nikos too. I don’t do that kind of thing.”

Turnus smiled slightly. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Was that a test?”

“No, my questions were honest,” Turnus said. “Unless you mean that, if you had admitted to me that you would have gone with Juturna absent anyone preventing you, it would have demonstrated that you are not the kind of person I want my sister to be in contact with.”

“Is there anyone you do want Juturna to be in contact with?” Ruby asked, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.

Turnus glanced at her. “That is a bold question.”

“Last time I talked to her, Juturna told me about a movie premiere you’d been to,” Ruby began.

“She complained about the actor, didn’t she?” Turnus asked.

“No,” Ruby said. “She told me about it, but she didn’t complain. She actually told me you two never fight. All the same…”

“Are you wondering whether you should mount a defence of personal freedom?” Turnus asked.

“…maybe,” Ruby admitted. “It isn’t a good feeling when other people decide that they know better than you, and so they’re going to make all of the decisions for you.”

Turnus didn’t reply; he didn’t say anything as he guided the Bullhead down towards the Skydock, setting the airship down alongside a dozen others of the same type. Only once the airship was still and silent did he turn in his seat so that he was facing Ruby.

“I appreciate that you are not from Mistral,” he said. “I appreciate that, in Vale, a different attitude may, and probably does, prevail. But Juturna and I are from Mistral, not from Vale. There are considerations of … Juturna is the heir to a grand old name. In Mistral, only the names of Nikos and Thrax are older or more honourable; there is wealth and land … and she is my heir until, unless, I have a child. It would be remiss of me not to consider that there may be those who see my sister as their meal ticket, unworthy men who pursue her not out of affection but for their own advantage.”

“And you don’t trust Juturna to realise?” Ruby asked.

“No,” Turnus said. “No, I do not.”

“Maybe she would,” Ruby suggested, “if you gave her the chance to see the difference, instead of trying to protect her from everyone.”

Turnus was silent a moment. “She is my sister,” she said. “All other considerations aside, what kind of brother would I be if I stood aside and let her get hurt on the grounds that it might teach her a lesson? How would I answer for that?”

Answer to who? Ruby thought; she could guess the answer. “It must be hard for you,” she said, “losing both your parents.”

Turnus’ eyes widened. “How … what makes you—?”

“I lost my mom when I was little,” Ruby said. “My big sister, Yang, she had to step up in a big way. I get it.”

Turnus’ brow furrowed. “Your father?”

“He was hurting too,” Ruby said softly.

Turnus was silent for a second. “You have my condolences.”

“And you’ve got mine, too,” Ruby said. “For what it’s worth.”

Turnus smiled at her. “It is worth enough,” he said. He unbuckled himself from the pilot’s chair. “Now, shall we claim our reservation?”

Ruby guessed that he was drawing a line under that topic of conversation and didn’t want to talk about the way he treated Juturna or about his parents anymore. She felt like maybe he ought to talk about those things, but at the same time … as much as she thought that she was right when she did it, she was aware that, to some people, she could seem a little … when she thought she was right, she would say so, but that didn’t mean that people always wanted to hear it. Like that time with Arslan.

So she held her tongue upon that subject and said, “Yeah, let’s go.”

There was a taxi waiting for them outside the skydock, which took them to a place called The Northern Bites, a place advertising Atlesian cuisine, with a stark glass and metal front and what looked like some kind of holoprojector just outside.

It looked like, but it was hard to tell exactly because somebody had smashed it up, attacking it with a bat or something until the metal column was dented and the actual emitter was cracked, fault lines running across it.

Someone, presumably the same person or at least part of the same group, had spray-painted an A in bright red letters on one of the windows, and underneath had scrawled the words 'Atlas scum go home.'

An employee, dressed in a black shirt and trousers with a white apron, was trying to scrub it off with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water.

Turnus stared at it as he climbed out of the taxi. "What in Remnant…??"

"Yeah," Ruby murmured. "It … something's going on in Vale. I don't understand it, and I don't know where it's come from, but … it's like people have started hating Atlas, and hating the faunus too. You see stuff like this all over the place. It's … I don't get it. I don't know where it's come from."

"Hmm," Turnus murmured, a frown creasing his features. "Will you excuse me for just one moment?"

"Uh, sure," Ruby agreed.

"Thank you," Turnus said, turning away and fishing his scroll out of his breast pocket. He opened it up and called someone. "Tarpeia?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"I want you and Tulla to take extra care; apparently, there's a lot of anti-faunus feeling in the air at the moment."

"No offence, my lord, but how is that different from any other day?" the woman on the other end of the line — Tarpeia, presumably — asked.

"I'm being serious, Tarpeia," Turnus declared. "I'm told it's spiking to an unusual degree. I know you can handle yourself, but … the two of you watch each other's backs."

There was a moment of silence before Tarpeia said, "Will do, my lord."

"I'm glad to hear it," Turnus said. "That's all; I'll see you back at the hotel tonight."

"Very good, my lord."

Turnus hung up, and put the scroll back in his tiger-stripe jacket as he turned back to Ruby. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Ruby said. "Tarpeia's a faunus?"

"Yes, she and Tulla both, of the people that I brought with me," Turnus said. "They know their way around a fight, of course, but in this kingdom … I wouldn't want to see them in legal difficulties any more than in physical ones." He smiled. "Although it seems that in this kingdom, one may still challenge one's enemies to single combat without consequence, so perhaps I needn't be worried at all."

Ruby didn't smile back. "That was … I don't like that Pyrrha did that."

Turnus paused a moment before he said, "Shall we go inside? If they aren't open because of all this, then I do apologise, we'll find somewhere else."

"But we might as well see, right?" Ruby asked.

They approached the restaurant, and as they did so, Turnus called out to the man washing the window, "Hello there! Are you open?"

The man looked at them, doing a double take at Turnus' rather colourful suit. "Yes!" he called back, enthusiastically. "Have you got a table booked? Or even if you haven't, really, yes, just go right inside; someone will take care of you."

They duly went in, the doors sliding open for them automatically to admit them into a room of glass tables and metal chairs, pristine white floors, all of it lit by lights that changed colours slowly and subtly, shifting from greens to blues to magenta, violet and indigo; the colours of the rainbow — or the aurora.

The place was not quite empty, there were a couple of well-dressed faunus sitting in one corner, there was a table for four over on the left, but it was very quiet for a restaurant that was open, especially since it wasn't that early in the evening.

Near the door was a standing desk, with a computer terminal upon it and a woman — dressed in black, just like the man outside — standing behind it. She smiled as they approached, but her voice sounded a little more ragged than friendly as she said, "Yes, hello, welcome, how can I help you? Table for two?"

"Yes, I have a reservation in the name Rutulus," Turnus said.

"Then you'd be the first reservation who actually showed up tonight," the woman muttered. "But, uh, welcome to Northern Bites." She grabbed a pair of menus, enclosed in black leather booklets, from the side of her desk. "As you can see, we have plenty of choices, would you like to sit by the—?" She gestured towards the window, but stopped. "No, not there. How about here?" she suggested, beginning to walk already towards a round table in the middle of the restaurant."

Turnus glanced at Ruby.

"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks," Ruby said softly.

"Great," the woman said. "My name is Stephanie, I'll be looking after you today, but I'll just leave you to look at the menus for a few minutes before I come take your order, okay?"

"Thank you," Ruby said, as she sat down. "Do you think people aren't showing up because this is an Atlesian restaurant?"

"Perhaps," Turnus said, "although it seems a fine way to repay Atlas' generosity."

"You mean for the Breach?"

"Yes," Turnus said. "Although I don't mean to diminish your efforts, of course."

"I, uh…" Ruby stopped short of saying that she'd already been unconscious. "A lot of people did what they could."

"I'm sure," Turnus said as he opened up the menu. "Seal meat. Haven't had that in a while."

"Really?" Ruby asked. "That's…" She opened her own menu. "Yeah, that's really on the menu, huh." Seal goujons were an option for the starter, while main meals on offer included seal steak and a seal brisket burger; caribou and whale were also on the menu, alongside the more usual beef and fish. "Do Atlesian really eat this stuff? None of my Atlas friends talk about it."

"Do you talk about food with them very often?"

"We eat it," Ruby said. "But, no, I guess we don't. Still…"

"Caribou is very similar to certain cuts of beef, while being much lower fat," Turnus told her. "It's very good for you; sadly, it's impossible to come by in Mistral, but venison is fairly common, if expensive."

"I … think I'll stick with fish," Ruby said, although even the fish choices were a little fancier than she had been used to — there was no cod and chips on the menu, that was for sure. Nevertheless, when Stephanie returned, Ruby ordered the relatively safe-sounding celery, potato, and salt cod salad, on the grounds that she could understand what all the words meant, and a smoked salmon after. Turnus, who apparently knew what this stuff tasted like, ordered seal skewers and a caribou liver.

"So," Turnus said, when they had ordered. "You're not fond of duelling?"

Ruby was silent a moment. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's okay."

"Of course."

"In fact, I don't want to talk about Pyrrha at all," Ruby added. "I don't want to tell you something that you can use to—"

"Ruby," Turnus said, "Miss Rose. Whatever my … whatever assurances Lady Nikos gave me, whatever the situation, it was not and would never be my intention to use you in such a way. I wanted to meet you because you're Juturna's friend, nothing more. And also, I admit, because you must be quite skilled to have been admitted to Beacon so young."

"Well," Ruby said. "I try my best. Are you a huntsman?"

"No," Turnus said. "I spent the best part of two years at Atlas Academy, but … it wasn't for me."

"Why not?" asked Ruby.

Turnus paused for a second. "My team died," he said. "They perished on a training mission in my second year. I was the only survivor."

Ruby gasped. "Oh, god!" she cried. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Turnus assured her. "Are you close to your teammates, if you don't mind me asking?"

Ruby nodded. "They annoy me sometimes, but they're still my best friends."

"Mine just annoyed me," Turnus said, with what seemed to Ruby to be an inappropriately light tone considering the subject. "To pretend to be unduly upset at their passing, to allow you to express your condolences as though I were gravely wounded in the spirit … would be rather dishonest, don't you think?"

Ruby thought that perhaps he ought to have been … well, okay, he didn't need to be traumatised by it or anything, but three people he'd lived with for two years had died around him; he ought to have been a little bit upset about it. But then, it had been a few years ago. Maybe time had healed the wound.

Maybe it wasn't her place to judge either way. "But you decided to found a security company anyway?"

"I did."

"Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Would you mind if I asked why you want to become a huntress, if indeed you do?" asked Turnus.

"I don't mind," Ruby said. "I want to help people."

Turnus waited. "That's … all?"

Ruby shrugged. "Does there need to be anything more?"

"Evidently not," Turnus replied. He took a moment. "Violence … is the birthright of my class. Throughout our history, my family, families like mine, have fought; we are warrior aristocrats."

"Shepherds of the people?" Ruby suggested.

"That is an old term, but one with meaning, yes," Turnus agreed. "I have no need to spin or sow; I live off the labour of others as my ancestors have done. But that gives me leisure to study the blade and the spear; since I do not have to work, I can learn how to fight proficiently. It is an old bargain, and though I sometimes think that in Mistral, we think a little too much upon old things, nevertheless, this particular bargain seems to me a good one."

"Would you have become a huntsman, if you'd graduated?" asked Ruby.

"I don't know," Turnus said. "If you are asking me if I wish that I had become a huntsman, the answer is no, I am happy where I am; I would trade away my men or my company for … what, exactly? I must say that being a huntsman seems to me a rather lonely existence."

"Not all huntsmen work alone," Ruby said. "Some teams stick together after they graduate."

"But some do work alone," Turnus replied. "Many, in fact."

"I guess," Ruby murmured.

"I could not do it," Turnus said. "Certainly not now, after I have experienced working with everyone. No matter how hard the battle, I am never without someone by my side."

"That sounds good," Ruby admitted, "but how did you come up with the idea?"

"Partly, it was my time working for SDC security," Turnus said. "I saw what could be accomplished by a private group, not huntsmen — or at least not all huntsmen — but well-equipped and trained regardless, and more than capable of seeing off attacks by the White Fang or most grimm. And, of course, when I came home to Mistral … the police were so corrupt. There are still corrupt elements present. It felt as though a new force could accomplish something."

"And did you?" asked Ruby.

"I … it isn't all battles," Turnus admitted. "Compared to the life of a huntsman, a lot of private security work is private clients. I have two men playing bouncer at a young noblewoman's birthday party for instance, and then there's security at FightFan Expo each year—"

"What's FightFan Expo?"

"It's a showcase of the tournament fighters," Turnus said. "They meet their adoring public; with photo-ops, autographs, question and answer sessions, it all serves to build hype for the coming tournament season. It's incredibly popular. Security involves making sure that no one dressed as their favourite fighter has brought a real weapon in with them, and no one takes the occasionally revealing cosplay of those who dress up as tournament fighters as an invitation to anything. Plus theft, disruption, antisocial behaviour, the usual sorts of things. Plus, there is also protection for touring artists and my present business escorting the man who will take a prized gemstone home to Mistral. But on the other hand, recently, some of my people caught a stalker who was harassing a singer, we protected a village from bandits and gave them such a bloody nose that I've heard nothing more from them since, and before that, we were part of a raid that rescued several children who would … otherwise have suffered an unthinkable fate." He paused again. "We do good work," he said. "We do enough good work, I think, to balance out, or more than balance out, the frivolity. And yet, good work is only possible because I employ good people. Skilled people, brave people. People like you, perhaps."

"Me?"

"I don't know what your plans are after graduation," Turnus said. "And I certainly wouldn't ask you to drop out of Beacon, but once you graduate, there will be a place for you at Rutulian Security, if you want it. A fair wage, job security, you wouldn't be at the mercy of the job board in lean times. And there's a dental plan."

Ruby chuckled. "That's … that's nice of you to offer. Really, it is, but—"

"But the answer is no?"

"I don't mind being at the mercy of the job board," Ruby said, leaving out any work that she might be doing for Professor Ozpin. "I'd rather take my chances with that than provide security for birthday parties or at FightFan Expo. It's just … it's not what I go to school for."

"I see," Turnus murmured. "Disappointing, but understandable at the same time. Still, if at any point in the next three years you change your mind, let me know. I think Juturna would like having you around, and I wouldn't mind her having a friend like you around either."

"Okay," Ruby promised. "I'll let you know if I change my mind."

But she knew she never would.

The Heart of Mistral, Part One (New)

The Heart of Mistral, Part One

The lights were on in the dorm room, and when Ruby opened the door, she found everyone else up, waiting for her.

Sunset was sitting on her bed, one leg outstretched, the other cocked upwards, bent like a mountain rising to a peek at the knee. She was looking at her scroll, but she looked up as Ruby came in.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Pretty good, I think,” Ruby replied. “He offered me a job.”

“With Rutulian Security?” Pyrrha asked, taking a step towards her.

“Uh huh,” Ruby answered. “Of course, I said no. That’s not what I want to do. It wouldn’t be what I wanted to do even without all the stuff with Salem and everything else that we know. I’m sure he believes in what he’s doing, but it’s not what I believe in.”

“How forcefully did you put your opinion across?” asked Pyrrha mildly.

Ruby chuckled. “I thanked him, but I told him that I wasn’t interested. He told me that the door was open if I changed my mind. Which I won’t, but I guess it was nice of him to offer. Oh, but he also asked if I’d like to come down and shadow his people tomorrow night when they work security at the Mistralian Embassy for that thing Pyrrha and Jaune are going to, and I said I’d do it.”

“Why?” Jaune said. “I mean, you already told him that you weren’t interested.”

Ruby shrugged. “No, but unlike some of the stuff they do, this sounds kind of important.”

“Protecting a jewel?” Sunset asked. “I mean, it probably is important, but it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d think was important.”

Ruby put one hand upon her hip. “What does that mean?”

“It means there aren’t any lives at stake,” Sunset said flatly.

“But there are,” Ruby replied. “The First Councillor is going to be there, and the Mistralian ambassador, and a whole bunch of VIPs, and Jaune and Pyrrha.”

“That’s true,” Pyrrha said, “but on the other hand, I can’t imagine there’ll be much risk involved to any of us. At least, I certainly hope not.”

“Maybe don’t tempt fate,” Sunset muttered, although the smile on her face as she said it suggested she wasn’t being serious about that.

Pyrrha gave a smile that was kind of a grimace at the same time. “Point taken,” she allowed. “But my point is, who would want to attack or disrupt an event like this?”

“Jewel thieves?” Jaune suggested.

“Perhaps, but jewel thieves probably wouldn’t attempt a robbery in the middle of a party,” said Pyrrha.

“You obviously haven’t seen enough movies,” Sunset said, the smile still on her face, “but you should be fine as long as you keep your eyes peeled for a charming, refined, and handsome con artist, an alluring femme fatale, and an awkward computer expert in glasses.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Pyrrha said dryly.

“Ruby,” Jaune said, “you never said why you wanted to do this?”

“Well, it isn’t like I’ve got anything better to do tomorrow night, right?” Ruby asked. “And I kind of like the idea of being on guard while you two are having fun. And just because I don’t want to take a job with them doesn’t mean it might not be cool to see how they operate. I might even learn something, in case I get hired for a job like this when I become a huntress.”

“You’ll be bored,” Sunset said. “Hopefully, at least.”

“That might also be good practice for when I graduate,” Ruby said.

Sunset snorted. “Maybe. Chance would be a fine thing, wouldn’t it? So, you’re all going to be leaving me on my own tomorrow night, are you?”

“You could come with me and work security?” Ruby suggested.

“Or I could see if I could get another ticket—”

“No, it’s fine,” Sunset assured them all. “I was only kidding. I’m not going to intrude where I’m not wanted. I’ll find something to occupy myself while Pyrrha and Jaune are … ordinarily, at this point, I would playfully and fondly mock how sickeningly sweet you are, but in this case, with Lord Rutulus around, I’m not sure it’s going to be as much fun as all that. And Ruby will be getting bored in the company of … who are these people anyway?”

“Some are huntsmen or huntresses who wanted what you might call a regular job, compared to the vagaries of depending on the job board for their livelihood,” Pyrrha explained. “Some are ex-police, others are simply people who had a talent for fighting but for whatever reason didn’t fit in or make it into Haven Academy. The kind of people who might have joined the army in Atlas or Vale, but Mistral doesn’t have an army, and so people like that tend to concentrate into private security companies or mercenary groups.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad,” Sunset said.

“It depends on what they do, I guess,” said Jaune.

“Turnus seems okay, actually,” Ruby said. “I mean, we didn’t talk about Pyrrha at all, and I won’t defend … that, although he does seem to think that your mother promised—”

“Yes, I’m well aware of what he believes my mother promised,” Pyrrha interrupted her, in a voice that was almost but not quite a growl.

“But other than that … he’s not perfect, he babies his sister too much and tries too hard to control her rather than trusting her to do her own thing and make her own choices, but even that I can kind of get, what with his parents and all. But apart from that … he seemed okay to me. Honestly … while it wouldn’t suit me, taking orders from someone, doing what someone else thinks is right, I couldn’t do that any more than I could become an Atlesian specialist, but for the kind of person who doesn’t mind taking orders, who doesn’t mind letting other people do your thinking for you, I can get why people want to work for him.” Ruby paused for a moment. “Sometimes…”

The others waited a moment to let her finish.

“Sometimes … what?” asked Jaune.

Ruby folded her arms. “Well, you know how we captured Torchwick and stopped the train robbery.”

“Mhm,” Sunset said.

“Well, it wasn’t just us; it was Team Rosepetal too, and Blake,” Ruby said. “And if they hadn’t been there, if we had been the four of us on our own, then maybe we wouldn’t have had so much luck.”

“We would have done okay,” Sunset said a little defensively.

“And then we were with them in Mountain Glenn, right?” Ruby said. “That … didn’t go so well, but … the point is that we were lucky to have them with us, both times, and I was reminded about that because of something that Turnus said about huntsmen working on their own and how he couldn’t imagine doing that, even if he’d graduated from Atlas.”

“Not all huntsmen or huntresses work alone,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I know, I told him that,” Ruby said, “but the most that you tend to get are just huntsmen working with the teams that they went to the academies with, and that’s fine, and I get why that happens, but … maybe there should be a time and a place for huntsmen to work in larger numbers, more often than they do. We spend four years learning to work as a team, and yet, so many huntsmen go solo afterwards, why?”

“Numbers?” Sunset suggested. “Teams of four wouldn’t be able to cover enough ground to do everything that needs to be done?”

“Or is it simply that most missions that a huntsman is called upon to undertake can be undertaken by a single huntsman?” suggested Pyrrha.

“But can they, though?” Ruby responded. “Can one huntsman defend a whole village from an entire tribe of bandits?”

“It depends on how well-trained the bandits are, I guess,” Jaune said.

“What’s your point, Ruby?” asked Sunset. “That huntsmen should work together more often?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Ruby said. “My point is that if you have a situation where one huntsman, or maybe even a team of four — if you can get one — isn’t going to cut it, you have to look to the Atlesian military or to private companies, organisations that are dependent on the decisions of one man, be it General Ironwood or Lord Rutulus or someone else; the fact is that it’s someone making decisions for everyone else, and everyone else just blindly going along with it, which isn’t what a huntsman is supposed to do—”

“Okay,” Sunset said, getting off her bed and getting to her feet, “but you see the inherent tension here, don’t you? You say that huntsmen should be open to working together, because there is strength in numbers, and sometimes, that kind of strength is necessary, but on the other hand, you say that huntsmen need to be answerable to no one but themselves and their own consciences, but how is that supposed to work in a group? Someone needs to be in charge.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Why can’t the group make decisions collectively?”

“How?” Sunset responded. “By a show of hands? What if everyone doesn’t agree, either the ones that don’t agree sit out the operation, in which case, you don’t have numbers any more, or they subordinate their feelings to the decision of the majority, which isn’t much different from obeying orders, except it’s less effective. And in battle, someone has to be in command, or you lose all coordination and the advantage of strength with it. I just … I can see your point about numbers, I can see your point about us working with the Rosepetals and with Blake, and it worked, and it does seem odd that we train in teams only to go our separate ways, and maybe more organisations that could bring huntsmen together as necessary would be a good thing, but they would need to led in order for them to be effective.”

“Maybe,” Ruby conceded. “But that leader could be elected, because there’s a difference between the majority deciding and everyone agreeing to go along with it even if it’s not what they would have done and one person just deciding for themselves without reference to anybody.”

“Yes, the one person is likely to make better decisions,” Sunset muttered.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said, “but I will never agree with Ruby on this; leadership should be the province of the best, the one.”

“What if the best isn’t the one?” Ruby asked.

“If the best were not the one, they would not be the one,” Sunset answered. “But, rather than get into that because we’ll never convince one another, Ruby, what are you going to do about it?”

Ruby blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you really think that this is a new model of huntsman … huntsman-ing, hunting, what’s the verb for what we do?”

“I think it’s just hunting,” Ruby said.

“But that describes taking a gun and shooting rabbits in the woods,” Jaune pointed out.

“And we take guns and shoot beowolves in the woods; it’s not that different,” said Ruby. “Although why would you want to shoot cute little bunnies? That’s awful.”

“Yeah, that’s why I never did it.”

“Whatever it is,” Sunset said. “if you think this is a good idea that deserves consideration, what are you going to do about it more than standing here talking about it to us?”

Ruby thought about it for a moment. “Uh … what could I do?”

“Why don’t you write a paper on it and submit it to…?” Sunset trailed off. “Is there a magazine for huntsmen? I feel like I should know this, but I don’t.”

“Blades of Honour sometimes runs articles on huntsmen and huntresses, although the publication is mostly focused upon the tournament circuit,” Pyrrha said. “I’m not sure they’d be interested in a logistical consideration, though.”

“Why don’t you submit it to Professor Ozpin, see if he knows anywhere to publish it?” Jaune suggested. “Even if he doesn’t, if he likes your ideas, maybe he’ll put his weight behind them.”

“You think?” Ruby asked. “What if he’s too busy to read it?”

“I think he’ll make the time to read it, if it’s from you,” Pyrrha remarked.

“Really?” Ruby said. “Okay then, I’ll do it!” She paused. “Did I just give myself homework?”

“Yes, yes, you did,” Sunset declared. “It’s the reward of virtue.”

Ruby groaned.

“Do you think this would help us at all?” mused Jaune. “I mean, there are so few of us who know about Salem, who Professor Ozpin can trust—”

“But that is because there are so few whom Professor Ozpin dares to trust,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Larger forces of huntsmen would be irrelevant, even counterproductive, if Professor Ozpin could trust them with the knowledge of what was really going on.”

“Not necessarily,” Sunset said. “If something like Ruby is suggesting became commonplace, then there’s no reason you couldn’t have a high echelon of leaders who knew the truth and a force of followers, footsoldiers, however you want to call them, who don’t know about Salem but only know that the cause is a righteous one and that they are doing good, fighting off the grimm.”

“That would hardly square with elected leaders and strategy by common consent,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“No,” Sunset acknowledged. “But you already knew those were the bits I didn’t agree with anyway.”

Junior's was not exactly in the heart of Vale. The club to which Bon Bon and Tempest had been summoned was located in an old industrial district, the kind of place that put Bon Bon in mind of Mantle, or perhaps what Mantle would become in a few years time: derelict and empty, abandoned old factories and closed down mills, with graffiti on the walls and boarded-up windows.

It was a strange place to put a nightclub, although Bon Bon was surprised to see people drifting in and out of the arched building, the shining and shimmering dresses of the girls, the glittering straps of their stiletto heels, looking out of place in this dark and dismal part of the city.

They also made Bon Bon herself look and feel pretty underdressed, wearing a white hoodie with the hood up so as to cover her face, with nondescript blue jeans and white trainers.

Tempest was wearing a dark grey suit with a white shirt, no tie. It … suited her, to be honest.

"Why do you think Doctor Watts wants to meet here, of all places?" Bon Bon asked as they approached the club.

"To be anonymous, I think," Tempest murmured. "No one respectable is likely to show up here. We can talk away from prying eyes."

"This club isn't exactly empty of eyes," Bon Bon replied.

"True," Tempest conceded. "But quiet doesn't always mean security, and a crowd doesn't always mean you'll be noticed."

"Mmm," Bon Bon muttered. "It was a surprise to hear from him. Or was it?"

Tempest stopped, looking back at Bon Bon over her shoulder. "Meaning?"

Bon Bon shrugged. "Have you heard from him lately?"

"Not before I got this summons, the same as you," Tempest said.

"We're not exactly the same," Bon Bon said. "Are we?"

Tempest's green eyes narrowed, even as an amused smirk sprung up on her lips. "Are you … jealous?"

Bon Bon thrust her hands into her hoodie pockets. "No."

The smirk remained on Tempest's face. "You should be pleased," she said. "My elevation means you're not working for Cinder anymore. You're working for me."

"Is there a difference?"

"You wound me," Tempest said, putting on a hurt expression. She turned around and sauntered back towards Bon Bon. "What is it that you want, Sweetie? What is it that you desire, above all things?"

Fame, glory, recognition, respect, power? No. None of those, not anymore. Sky's death had burned them out of her. "I want to protect Lyra and Dove," she said. "I want to keep them safe; I want them to be safe."

"And they will be," Tempest assured her. "I'm not like Cinder; I won't tell you to throw your friends into the fire for the sake of some little charade. I understand the desire to protect those closest to you, no matter the cost." She placed a hand on Bon Bon's shoulder. "Vale is going to bleed as a result of this, that is inevitable. Our victory cannot come without a degree of base violence. But when the shots of war break out, I guarantee to you that Lyra and Dove will be far away from it all; it will not touch them."

Unless they choose to put themselves in the middle of it. They might, being brave people, good people. Bon Bon … she would just have to ensure that they did not, by whatever means.

"You guarantee it?" she asked.

"I will give you the word," Tempest said. "And you can make the arrangements for them, as seems best to you."

Bon Bon nodded. "Thank you," she whispered.

"As I said," Tempest replied. "I know what it's like. You would rather … you would rather die than see them come to harm. Whether they deserve the care you show them or not."

Bon Bon knew that Lyra and Dove did deserve it, absolutely so — it was she who didn't deserve them — but nevertheless, she nodded. "And now?"

"We'll find out inside, won't we?" Tempest said, turning away and resuming her walk towards the club.

Bon Bon followed her, over the cobbles of the road outside and through the metallic doors into the club. A flight of stairs led down into the dancefloor, where revellers shook and swayed and raised their arms, illuminated by the spotlights of brilliant white.

Rose petals floated down from the ceiling, while wordless music thumped out across the club. Trees grew in glass cases at the corners of the dance floor, while more trees were projected by holograms, pale shadows that seemed almost ghostlike.

Tempest led the way, and Bon Bon followed, descending the stairs as the lights on the dance floor changed from white to a dark, bloody red. They skirted the edge of the dancers, moving around the trees in their cases, walking to the back of the building, where tables sat in secluded booths half out of sight.

In one such booth sat Doctor Arthur Watts.

His smile appeared from underneath his moustache. "Girls," he said. "How delightful it is to see you again."

"Likewise, Doctor," Tempest said, with more warmth in her voice than Bon Bon had ever heard from her before. She ducked into the booth, sitting close to Doctor Watts, even as she reached out to take his hands. "It was a wonderful surprise to hear from you."

Doctor Watts chuckled. "Don't take my silence for indifference, Tempest, take it for praise; I had such confidence in your efforts that you didn't need to direct you or to check up on you. And look at how my faith has been rewarded: Cinder's equal now, joint leader of the operation here in Vale." He turned his attention to Bon Bon. "Sweetie Drops. You look well."

Bon Bon threw back her hood. "Doctor."

"I feel a little chillier all of a sudden," Doctor Watts muttered. "What is the matter, child?"

Bon Bon did not sit down. She remained standing, looking down on Doctor Watts where he sat in the booth. "You gave me to Cinder," she said frostily, her voice crackling.

"I put you to work," Doctor Watts said. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"I wanted to work for you," Bon Bon snarled, "not for that mad dog!"

"Sweetie—" Tempest began.

"Shut up!" Bon Bon snapped. "This doesn't concern you."

Tempest started to rise, but Doctor Watts held up one hand.

"Sweetie is due her candour," he murmured. "Sit down, Tempest."

She sat down.

Doctor Watts' eyes were fixed on Bon Bon. "You feel that I have misused you?"

"I think you have used me badly," Bon Bon replied.

Doctor Watts was silent for a moment. "You are probably right," he admitted, "and I am sorry for it. All I can say in my defence is that I, too, have those whom I must obey. I was ordered to assign one of my operatives to assist Cinder, and I did. And while I was well aware of Cinder's deficiencies, I had no idea she would turn out to be quite so … ill-suited to her task and position. All I can say is that I'm sorry. It won't happen again. And you don't need to worry about Cinder anymore. You don't need to obey her, you don't need to listen to her, and if she tries to make an issue of that, then I will deal with it. You must believe me, it was never my intent to do you wrong."

Bon Bon hesitated. What he had done, the way that he had treated her, had seemed callous. It had been callous. But … but this was Doctor Watts. This was someone she had known for years, someone who had put her back together in every sense. Someone who understood her pain, even as he helped to heal it. Someone without whom, she would be nothing.

"Apology accepted, Doctor," she murmured as she sat down in the booth.

The smile returned to Doctor Watts' face. "Excellent," he said. "Now, you're probably both wondering why I'm here."

"The question had crossed our minds," Tempest said.

"I have no doubt that operations here in Vale will conclude successfully, now that you have taken command," Doctor Watts said. "Which means that I am looking ahead to the next phase: Mistral. I am preparing the ground, as it were. An opportunity has arisen for me to make a connection that will be very useful once the theatre of operations changes, but to secure that connection, I need your help. Now, here is what I need you to do…"

“Are you okay, Jaune?” Ruby asked as the cab carried them through the streets towards the Mistralian embassy. It was a spacious taxi, with enough room in the back for Pyrrha’s dress to sprawl out a little bit without getting crushed or creased, and with enough room as well for two rows of seats, facing one another. Ruby sat with her back to the driver’s compartment, facing the rear window and Jaune and Pyrrha, who faced forwards.

Opposite Ruby, Jaune’s legs were bouncing up and down a little bit, twitching as if he’d been shocked or something.

He smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Ruby admitted.

Pyrrha placed a green-gloved hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, Jaune,” she said. “There’s still time to have the cab turn around.”

“What? No,” Jaune said. “I’m not that nervous, not enough to ditch you.”

“I was thinking that possibly we could both not go,” Pyrrha replied. “I don’t want to make you unhappy.”

“Wouldn’t that embarrass you to not show up?”

“So?” Pyrrha asked.

“So, I’m not that nervous,” Jaune insisted. “I mean, I’ve faced way worse than this, right?”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Ruby asked.

Jaune let out a little laugh. “Okay, that’s … okay,” he admitted. “But the point is that I can handle this. It would be kind of stupid if I could risk my life in battle but not go to a party, right?”

“Well…” Pyrrha murmured. “That … rather depends on what you're nervous about.” She looked away from Jaune, and from Ruby as well, looking out of the window as the cab carried them through Vale.

Night had already fallen; the darkness closed in earlier and earlier as autumn stole over Vale, and while it didn’t seem so long ago that it had been light at nine thirty, now, it was dark by seven. By the time Ruby’s birthday rolled around, it would be getting dark by four thirty, and winter would be even worse than that.

Dark by seven wasn’t so bad, Ruby supposed, and it meant that all the stores and such were lit up, which was cool to see. Vale hadn’t officially switched on the lights for the Vytal Festival yet, but once it did, whole streets would be illuminated with special lights to celebrate the festival and everything it meant.

Ruby had been seven years old the last time Vale had hosted the Vytal Festival; Uncle Qrow had gotten four tickets to watch the final match — ‘cause I’ve got connections, kiddo’ had been his explanation for how he’d done it; Ruby now felt she had a better idea as to what he’d meant by that; probably Professor Ozpin had done him a favour — and he and Dad had taken her and Yang into Vale for the day before the big fight. Ruby had been allowed to stay up later than she normally would have too, so that she could see the celebrations afterwards.

It had been … it had been one of the most amazing things that she had ever seen: the lights strung up across all the streets with the symbols of the academies, doves of peace sitting alongside swords and axes. There were big screens set up all over the place so that people who couldn’t get seated in the arena could still watch the fights, with special meet-up points where the fans could gather.

And everyone seemed so happy. That was what Ruby remembered most about that, more than the lights or the bright colours, certainly more than the fight itself, was how happy everyone was. Everyone on the streets, everyone in the colosseum, they were all smiling, laughing, singing chants that were so complicated, it was amazing everyone could learn the words and keep the tune.

That, for Ruby, was what made the Vytal Festival worth it. It wasn’t about the fighting, that was … that was kind of silly, when you got down to it; it wasn’t what anyone should be attending Beacon or Atlas or anywhere else for, and it wasn’t what anyone should be focussing on as their ultimate goal at the academies. But the happiness, the joy that it spread throughout the kingdom and maybe throughout the whole of Remnant, the way that everyone could come together and celebrate — celebrate victory, celebrate peace, celebrate whatever they wanted — that made it worthwhile.

Only recently, Ruby’s main worry had been that she wouldn’t find it all as much fun as she had when she’d been a kid, that she’d find that she’d grown out of it, and it didn’t enthuse her the way it had done.

Now, she was worried that nobody would be made happy by this year’s Vytal Festival, that the grim mood that had gripped the streets of Vale and the hostility towards Atlas and the faunus that had sprung up out of nowhere meant that there would be no joy, no celebration, just a lot of moody and bad-tempered people watching a lot of pointless fights.

Ruby watched Pyrrha, staring out of the cab window, and doubted that Pyrrha was thinking the same thing as she was, not least because Ruby doubted that Pyrrha considered the fights themselves to be pointless or silly.

Ruby wondered what Pyrrha was thinking, then, as she stared out of the window. “Pyrrha … are you nervous too?”

Pyrrha glanced at her. “I thought I was being more subtle than that.”

“More subtle than Jaune, maybe,” Ruby replied, “but not that subtle.”

The corner of Pyrrha’s lips twitched upwards for a moment, and then dropped again. “This,” she began, “this will be my first public appearance since those allegations appeared, and while I think — while Arslan assures me — that I have convinced a lot of my doubters … I feel as though I’m bound to be asked about it.”

“I thought … I thought you were okay with that,” Ruby murmured. “You said you were okay if they decided to take your spot in the temple away.”

“I am,” Pyrrha replied. “I can bear it, at least. I have done what I can do, I have … proven myself to myself, and I hope that proves me to others also. But that doesn’t mean I relish the prospect of being asked about the whole thing.”

Ruby supposed that she could understand that. Her eyes narrowed a little. “So … why are you both going to this thing again?”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one gloved hand as she laughed. “While I don’t really want to talk about Cinder, I’m not going to let myself be driven out of life by these ridiculous unfounded rumours. As Jaune said, having put my life on the line, it would be a little absurd to be afraid now.”

Ruby nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “And Jaune, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. It is Turnus that you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

“There’s an extent to which it’s everybody else,” Jaune said. “But, yeah, it’s mostly that guy.”

“Like I said last night, I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about,” Ruby said. “He seems like a pretty decent guy. I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble.”

Jaune took a deep breath. “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “I mean, it’s all going to be public, right? So … yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe I am worrying over nothing.”

“Mmhmm,” Ruby said, nodding. “I like your suit, by the way,” she added.

“Really?” Jaune asked. “Thanks.”

He was wearing a bright blue suit that matched his eyes, with a pale yellow … sash — Ruby knew that wasn’t the right word for it, there was a word for when that kind of thing was worn with a suit, and it sounded like cucumber, but Ruby couldn’t remember what the actual word was, so sash it was — a pale yellow sash around his waist and a bow tie to match. The way they went together made even the white of his shirt feel fresher.

The taxi slowed to a stop.

“Here we are,” said the cab driver, an elderly cat faunus with tufts of white hair growing out of his feline ears. “Thirty-nine lien, please.”

“Here you go,” Pyrrha said, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning forward to pass some lien cards through the little gap in the plastic screen separating the driver from the passengers. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Ruby opened the door and was the first one out, her red cape falling behind her. She turned to watch Pyrrha and Jaune get out and also observed — as she had when they had gotten the taxi at the skydock — that the cab had two Valish flags on it, fluttering on either side of the bonnet like it was some kind of official vehicle. Ruby thought, uncomfortably, that this was supposed to protect the faunus cab driver from the kind of sentiments that were on the rise in Vale these days.

She wondered if it worked and inwardly lamented that it was necessary.

Pyrrha was the next one out, seeming to almost unfold out of the cab, her dress falling out around her, spreading across the pavement; Jaune followed, shutting the door behind him.

The cab drove off, and Ruby turned away to face their destination.

The Mistralian embassy sat in a very nice, old part of Vale; both the Mistralian and Atlesian embassies were in houses that had once belonged to aristocratic families, but which had both been sold after the war by their owners; Ruby couldn’t help but find that kind of ironic.

Anyway, it meant that this was a very nice, very high class neighbourhood, filled with old-fashioned houses, three or four floors high, built out of red brick and brownstone, all set back from the street by big gardens and wrought iron fences. It was the kind of place where the people who lived here probably lived very comfortably, even if a lot of the houses had been converted into flats by now because nobody wanted or could afford to live in such a huge house by themselves these days.

The grounds of the embassy itself were larger than most, with a lot of open space on either side of the building which stood proud in the midst of the well-tended lawns on all three sides of it that Ruby could see. Flowerbeds, blossoming with chrysanthemums of every colour, sat on either side of the stone wall, topped with iron rails, that surrounded the grounds, while more flowerbeds lined the path that led to the embassy itself.

The embassy was a tall building, six floors high, with lights burning in every window that Ruby could see.

The gates that would have barred the way onto the grounds were thrown open, and on the grounds themselves, Ruby could see armed men, and armoured; Turnus’ men, presumably, including Turnus himself, who seemed a lot bigger than he had the night before as he walked towards her.

“Ruby!” he called out to her. He was dressed in armour now, Atlesian armour covering his chest, his legs, and most of his arms, except for his left upper arm where there was only a black sleeve and a gold armband like the one that Pyrrha wore. His helmet was the only thing that didn’t look Atlesian; it was metallic and crested, and it hung from his belt, knocking gently against his hip as he walked. He wore a sword about his waist, and in one hand, he held a long spear, with a point at each end.

“Hey,” Ruby said, smiling.

As he drew near, Turnus bowed his head to Pyrrha. “Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha offered a very slight curtsy. “Lord Rutulus.”

Turnus turned his gaze on Jaune, staring at him for a moment.

Jaune stared back.

Neither of them said anything.

“Hmm,” Turnus murmured, before returning his attention to Ruby. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said.

“It’s no trouble,” Ruby replied. “It might even be fun.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Turnus said, “but I hope you won’t be too bored. Now, come, I’ll introduce you to some of my men.”

He turned away, gesturing with one hand for her to come with him.

Ruby did not follow immediately, but looked to Jaune and Pyrrha. “Well, have fun, you guys.”

“Thanks,” Jaune said. “You … you too, I guess.”

Ruby smiled at him, then caught up with Turnus in a couple of quick strides as they walked back down the path, stepping over the flowerbeds — but not on the flowers — and onto the well-kept lawn, to where a couple of men were stood waiting for them.

“Ruby, this is Lausus Agylla,” Turnus said, “and this is Ufens Aequius. Lausus, Ufens, this is Ruby Rose, Beacon student, Juturna’s friend, and up and coming huntress who has already done more valour in arms than any of us.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “That’s … you’re too kind.”

“None of us have looked a grimm horde in the face,” Ufens declared. He was a big man, even bigger than Turnus — who was looking rather large himself tonight — muscular, with broad shoulders. His head was completely bald, but there was a black beard growing around his mouth, covering his jaw and hiding his lips. Like Turnus, he wore Atlesian armour, but he had painted his black all over, and there was no armband on his arm. Across his back, he had a bow and an axe slung. “None of us are likely to either, gods willing. That you have, well, that’s something to be in awe of in anyone, especially your age.”

“Well, I…” Ruby wondered if she ought to tell them that she’d been unconscious for the actual fight at the Breach … but she had sort of looked it in the face down in the tunnel. And she found that she kind of enjoyed somebody thinking she was awesome. “I’ve always tried to do my best. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure, Miss Rose,” said Lausus with a bow of his head.

He was a man who looked about Turnus’ age, tall and gangly, a bit like Jaune; he even had the same floppy blond hair, although Lausus’ hair was even longer than Jaune’s, so Ruby wondered how he stopped it from getting in his eyes — eyes which were hazel, where Jaune’s were blue. Lausus was adorned with jewellery, gold bracelets upon his wrists, a thick gold armband upon his left arm and a smaller, slenderer one upon his right, a golden torque around his neck made like a serpent eating its own tail, rings on his fingers. Even his cuirass, which was made of white linen, had golden clasps joining the various parts of the armour together, most prominently at the shoulders. He had a sword at his hip, and across his back were slung a shield and a spear which was sufficiently heavy- and metal-looking that Ruby thought it might transform into something, although she couldn’t say exactly what.

“Lausus and I will be inside the building,” Turnus said. “Ufens will be in charge of everyone outside; you’ll be working with him. Not all of my personnel are huntsmen, but Ufens is a Haven graduate.”

“A few years ago now, my lord.”

“A huntsman is still a huntsman, right?” asked Ruby. “It’ll be a pleasure to work with you!”

“I have two men, Nisus and Euryalus, on the roof across the street watching the embassy,” Turnus explained. “I have another two, Tarpeia and Tulla, on the roof of the embassy watching the surround, and the remainder here on the grounds while I am inside with Ufens, who I will let decide how to best place you. Until later, Ruby. Ufens.”

Ufens nodded. “My lord.”

“Lausus, come with me.”

“At once, my lord,” Lausus said, and he followed Turnus as the latter set off towards the embassy, stepping back over the flowers and onto the path, before disappearing through the sliding doors into the embassy itself.

“So,” Ufens said. “My lord tells me you don’t fancy coming to work for him.”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I don’t. To be honest, I don’t really like the idea of working for anyone. It doesn’t sound like the sort of thing a huntsman should be doing. Um, no offence.”

“None taken,” Ufens said evenly. “Though I’m curious why you think that.”

“Because huntsmen are supposed to use their own judgement on how to help people and when and … everything else, not just follow orders,” Ruby said. “You … don’t think so?”

“I can’t say I ever thought about it,” Ufens replied. “I come from a place called Nersae: hardscrabble place, bad soil, hard, you have to work to get the bare scrap of life out of it. As if that wasn’t enough, there are grimm about too. We plough the earth armed, because ploughing unarmed is an invitation to become dinner. We plough armed, and we hunt in the woods, and I decided that I preferred the axe and the bow to the plough, so I went to Haven. I can’t say I had any high ideals about what it would mean to be a huntsman, just … more of the fighting grimm that I preferred to farming.”

“Then how did you end up working private security?” asked Ruby.

Ufens scratched the top of his bald head. “Well, I didn’t end up doing a lot of grimm fighting in the end. My first job after graduation was backing up the police in a raid on … they were growing something illegal, I forget what it was. That turned into a couple more jobs, and in the end, the old lord — my lord’s father — said I might as well come and work for him full time, since I kept coming back regardless. And then … when the old lord passed away, and my lord asked me to come and help him out with this … it seemed like the right thing to do by his father, you know?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, I think I can get that.”

“If you were to ask why other huntsmen might do this, or go into mercenary or security work,” Ufens went on, “I think they’d tell you — certainly, Messapus would tell you — that when you’re twenty-one and newly-graduated, being a huntsman sounds grand: fight the grimm, fight the crooks, be a hero. And then you turn forty, look around, and realise that after twenty years of contract work, you’ve got no savings, no pension, no house, and nothing to fall back on when you get too old or too injured to keep doing that job.”

“That … that makes sense,” Ruby admitted. “My Dad became a teacher.”

“Good for him; that’s safe work if ever I heard of it,” Ufens said. “But being a teacher requires certain skills. Skills different from the certain skills you pick up in the field, so for a lot, it’s easier to get a job like this. Now, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, if I may: what’s your semblance?”

“Super speed.”

“And your weapon?”

Ruby proudly pulled Crescent Rose out from behind her, stepping back away from Ufens as she unfurled the weapon to its full glory. “A combination scythe and high impact sniper rifle.”

“Sniper rifle, eh?” Ufens said. “In that case, I think the best place for you would be up on the roof with Tulla and Tarpeia. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious that might be headed this way and shout up if you spot trouble.”

The ballroom in the embassy was a spacious chamber, with a mosaic floor depicting, if Pyrrha was not mistaken, the Emperor Theseus receiving the blessing of a wizard and a witch prior to assuming the imperial dignity. As the tale went, they had not only blessed him and his enterprise but also showed him visions of Mistral’s future, which gave the artists who had constructed the mosaic plenty of licence to surround the future first emperor with scenes of Mistral’s later glory: the wars it had fought and the heroes who had made it great. From the ceiling hung suspended a great chandelier, a magnificent work of crystal and glass, so many layers that it was impossible to count them all, showering the ballroom beneath with refracted light. The ceiling was painted in a contrast to the floor: while the mosaic’s tiles depicted events on earth, the fresco above concerned the doings of the gods, the play of Seraphis and Re and their hermai of the sky who danced and sang for their amusement. Serving staff in traditional Mistralian tunics of deep green moved around the room, passing amongst those guests who were already present, bearing trays laden with drinks or canapés.

Towards the back of the ballroom, a cluster of musicians played soft music that invited but did not overpower.

Pyrrha and Jaune were not the last to arrive, but nor were they the first; the ballroom was not full, but the floor was obscured in places by clusters of guests who mingled about, conversing in a soft hubbub in which no words or single conversation could be made out. Ladies and gentlemen alike were clad in an eclectic mixture of traditional Mistralian and more modern Valish or Atlesian styles, in a riot of colours which radiated beautifully under the light of the chandelier. Jewels glistened from around the wrists and throats of the ladies, sparkling like a field of stars.

The ballroom was reached by descending a wide, grand staircase, the marble tiles concealed beneath a red carpet, with ornate iron bannisters set at intervals for the air of those who might struggle otherwise. Down those stairs, the two of them descended, into the assembly below.

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of rich green, with a halter neckline that wrapped around her neck and left her back and shoulders bare as it descended downwards, wrapping around her body beneath her armpits. The skirt was a full ballgown, with a layer of lighter, lime-green colour, decorated with leaf patterns running along the hem, at the bottom, partially concealed beneath a layer of the same rich emerald green as the bodice, which parted like curtains in the front and rode up at the sides, where a riot of red roses, leaves of green and purple and inky blue-black, large gleaming pearls, and golden chains were sewn at her hips.

A pair of long opera gloves, of the same lime green colour as her inner skirt, concealed her hands and arms beneath her honour band, while the neckline of her gown was hidden from view by the necklace that she wore: three thick bands of gold, on which were set three sparkling, diamond-shaped emeralds, and from those bands of gold descended three more gold ingots shaped like arrows or spearheads lancing down, with another emerald set in the central arrow. Chains of gold emerged from the outer arrows, looping around Pyrrha’s shoulders to fall down her back.

“Lady Pyrrha!” the slightly guttural, accented voice of Lord Wong, Mistral’s ambassador to Vale, hailed Pyrrha as she and her friends reached the bottom step.

It did not take long for her to spot Lord Wong himself coming towards them. The ambassador was a middle-aged man with a round, pock-marked face, a moderately thick moustache upon his upper lip, and a very modest goatee upon his chin. He was dressed conservatively but after the Valish fashion, in a three-piece suit of dark grey, with the chain of an old-fashioned pocket watch stretching across his waistcoat. In one hand, he gripped a cane with a golden head shaped like an eagle. With him were a woman about his age, with black hair in gentle curls framing a heart-shaped face, dressed in a red cheongsam with a white lotus flower print, and a little girl with the same hair and eyes, wearing a green dress and white stockings who bounced up and down eagerly as she approached.

“Lady Pyrrha,” Lord Wong repeated as he drew closer, his cane tapping upon the mosaic floor. “Welcome to the embassy. We are honoured and delighted by your presence.”

Pyrrha bowed. “The honour is all mine, my lord; thank you for your gracious invitation.”

“Nonsense!” Lord Wong cried, waving his free hand dismissively. “A party without the pride of Mistral in attendance would have been unthinkable. Allow me to introduce my wife, Meyrin—”

Pyrrha bowed once more. “Lady Wong.”

“Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong replied. “Welcome to our humble residence.”

“And my daughter, Soojin,” Lord Wong went on, a smile playing across his face. “Who is something of an admirer of yours, aren’t you, Soojin?”

“I’m your biggest fan!” Soojin cried, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Is that so?” she asked, as she knelt down in front of the excited little girl. “Then I am delighted to meet you, Lady Soojin.”

Soojin’s smile widened yet further. “I can’t believe I get to finally meet you! I’ve seen all of your matches, but I’ve never been able to go to one in person because we live here, and Papa and Mama said I was too young, but I really hope I get to go one day, and while you’re here, can I ask you how you get your shield to—?”

“Soojin,” Lady Wong interrupted her reproachfully. “This is a party, not a fan expo; Lady Pyrrha is here to enjoy herself, not cater to your every question.”

“Although,” Lord Wong added, “perhaps a photograph or two—?”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “Of course, my lord; it would be my pleasure, but first, I would be remiss if I did not introduce my…” — her smile brightened — “boyfriend, Jaune Arc.”

Jaune bowed, as Sunset had taught him how to do. “My lord and ladies, it is an honour to be here.”

“Many would say that the honour is to be here on the arm of Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong observed.

Jaune let out a wry chuckle. “Believe me, my lady, I’m well aware of how lucky I am.”

“I am not sure if that can be true, foreign as you are,” Lord Wong said, making Pyrrha’s stomach grow cold at the thought of what might be coming, “but you are both young still, with many years ahead of you. I remember when I was a young man—”

Lady Wong cleared her throat, while glaring sharply at her husband.

“But those days are long gone and have little bearing on anything,” Lord Wong said hastily.

Pyrrha smiled graciously. “Now, about that photograph…?”

Lord Wong laughed. “Of course, of course! Lady Pyrrha, if you please. Mister Arc, perhaps you will do the honours.”

Jaune’s smile lost a lot of tension as he said, “Of course.”

As Pyrrha knelt down once again with little Soojin, placing one arm around the girl’s shoulders, Jaune accepted the scroll which Lord Wong plucked from his breast pocket, before he and his wife retreated a short distance out of earshot.

Jaune opened up the scroll and held it at arm’s length in front of him, pointing towards Pyrrha and Soojin.

“Everybody say … everybody say ‘win’!” Jaune said.

“Win!” Soojin cried at the top of her voice, while Pyrrha hoped that her smile reached her eyes; in all her interactions with her fans, those with children were the ones where she hoped most to avoid disappointing them.

The flash on the scroll blazed out once, twice, three times. “There,” Jaune said, reversing the scroll so that Pyrrha — and Soojin — could see the picture. “How does that look?”

Soojin clasped her hands together. “Thank you!” she said brightly, with a bow in Jaune’s direction.

“Nothing would please Soojin better than to spend all evening with you,” Lord Wong said, as he retrieved his scroll from Jaune, “but we have other guests to greet and speak to, and so, farewell for now, Lady Pyrrha, Mister Arc; hopefully, we will be able to speak again later.”

“I … hope so too, my lord,” Jaune murmured.

“And I hope that you will cheer for me, and for my teammates, in the Vytal Festival,” Pyrrha added to Soojin. “We’re all counting on you.”

Soojin’s eyes widened at that. “I will! I will!”

“I have promised that if she gets good grades in school, then she may attend the tournament in person,” Lord Wong confided. “It isn’t every day one gets to watch their hero bestride the grandest stage in Remnant.”

Pyrrha coughed gently into one hand. “Well, I shall certainly do my best. Thank you, my lord, my lady; have a good evening.”

“And you, Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong said. “Come, Soojin.”

“But Mama!”

“Come,” Lady Wong repeated, taking her daughter by the hand and leading her away. “Pyrrha is not a toy for you to have all to yourself.”

Pyrrha watched them go. She slipped her hand into Jaune’s as the two of them began to drift leftwards, clearing the stairs for anyone who might come after. “That went well, I thought.”

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “Yeah, I think it did.”

“Although I do wonder,” Pyrrha added, “if she has seen my fight against Cinder. She said she’d seen all of them, but some parents might not consider a fight to the death to be appropriate.”

“Maybe you could ask her?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha looked at him. There was a smile on his face.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little,” Jaune assured her. “Does it matter? If she knows anything about what’s being said, it doesn’t seem to have dented her enthusiasm.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, I suppose not.”

“And Lord and Lady Wong seem to be on your side as well.”

“Yes, although I’m glad neither of them felt the need to bring up the subject,” Pyrrha replied. She paused for a moment. “I sincerely hope that I don’t disappoint her expectations, especially if she’s going to be watching live.”

Jaune scoffed. “As if you could,” he said. “Who have you got to worry about?”

“Well, I’ll certainly try and make you worry,” Arslan’s voice slipped between them from behind.

Pyrrha turned around. “Arslan! You look … very nice.”

Arslan Altan was dressed in a gown of sheer gold, the fabric reflecting the light from the great chandelier above them, that flowed outwards in all directions and draped upon the floor at the hem. A pair of black lines ran horizontally across the bodice, one at the waist and one just beneath her breasts. An illusion neckline, a mixture of black lace and intricate gold scrollwork in swirling patterns covering her chest and wrapping around her throat. In place of her usual necklace of fire dust beads, delicate beads of amber hung from her neck to hang down across the illusion neckline, while a string of black pearls was clasped about one wrist. Arslan had taken the trouble to get her wild mane of flaxen hair under control — to an extent, at least — arranging it in artfully messy ringlets that fell down on either side of her face.

“Just because I don’t usually make an effort, P-money, doesn’t mean I can’t,” Arslan said, a little tartly.

“Of course not, I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I’m just a little surprised to see you here.”

Arslan grinned. “Turns out, second place is still good enough to get you invited to the good parties. Jaune.”

“Hey,” Jaune said.

“To be honest, I’m a little surprised to see you here, Pyrrha,” Arslan said. “I knew you’d get invited, but I wasn’t sure that you’d show up, what with … everything.”

“I … I won’t be forced into hiding,” Pyrrha said. “I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all.”

“No, you don’t,” Arslan agreed. “I just wondered if you might take the easier path, that’s all.” She paused. “Especially since the press are here.”

“Are they?” Pyrrha asked.

“This is a news story,” Arslan reminded her. “Mistral’s been banging on about getting this ruby back for years; what’s so special about it?”

“It’s a symbol of our history, our heritage,” Pyrrha said.

“Your history, maybe, your heritage,” Arslan replied. “This isn’t exactly going to make people’s lives better down on the lower slopes, is it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “But the point is why should the Valish have possession of some of our history, especially when they looted it in battle?”

“The faunus might ask when we’re going to start giving back all of their stuff in our museums,” Arslan muttered.

“That … one would hope that faunus living in Mistral see themselves as sufficiently Mistralian that it is our shared heritage,” Pyrrha replied. “If not … then we have done them wrong and must do better, but if they really do feel that way, then by all means, their own treasures should be returned in … in turn.”

“But I don’t see it happening,” Arslan said.

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, neither do I, not at this present moment. The point is … the point is that Vale has always snapped its fingers at Mistral’s demand for justice in this matter, but now—”

“Now, we’ve got them over a barrel, and we can put the screws to them,” Arslan said.

“A little crudely put, but … yes,” Pyrrha said mildly.

“I’m a little surprised that we wanted to hang onto it so badly,” Jaune said. “I mean, like Arslan said, it’s just a ruby, right?”

“And a symbol of your victory over Mistral in the Great War,” Pyrrha said. “I … there are times when I get the impression that … Vale and Mistral are very different in many ways, but I think our two kingdoms may be united by a sense of decline. A sense that our future will be less than our past, even as … even as for other kingdoms, the reverse may be the case.”

“You mean Atlas,” Jaune said.

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted. “And so … we cling to our pasts, to our histories, to the memories of what went before, when our lands were grand and glorious, when we had power. In Mistral, that past is a rather older one, the age of heroes, the Imperial golden age when Mistral flourished. For Vale, it is their victory in the Great War.”

Jaune frowned. “I don’t know about Mistral, but I don’t see it that way. I think we’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

“Like what?” Arslan asked.

Jaune hesitated. “Well … what kind of things do you mean?” he asked back. “Are we going to be as technologically advanced as Atlas? I don’t know. Maybe not, but maybe we will, maybe all those Starhead robots will give us the edge. Or not. Maybe we’ll never be as rich as Atlas, maybe we’ll never be as powerful as Atlas; we’ll probably never have as strong a military as Atlas, but so what? Is this a game where we have to try and beat the high score? None of it matters so long as people are happy and able to live their lives. So long as we’re rich enough that everyone can afford to do that, strong enough that everyone is safe to do that, then … then what else matters? If that’s the future, then … then things look pretty good, I’d say.”

Pyrrha smiled. “You … you speak a great deal of sense,” she said, “and if more people felt that way, then the world would be a better place, but … with Vale in the mood that it is now, I think it might be a mistake to be forcing them to hand over a symbol of their triumph.”

“And yet, here you are,” murmured Arslan.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Here I am.” She paused. “And, since I am here, since we are here … I think we should probably start mingling, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Probably, we should.” He held out his hand to her.

Pyrrha placed her gloved fingers into his palm, and his fingers closed around them.

And so, together, they walked into the crowd.

“You have to admit, my lord,” Lausus said, as he watched Pyrrha and Jaune move into the crowd swarming about the ballroom floor, “they do make a cute couple.”

“Is that so?” Turnus muttered. “You should be keeping your eyes on Lord Kiro; we are working after all.”

“I can keep my eyes on many things at once, my lord, if there’s call to,” Lausus said. “Although I must say, one question does tug at my mind: why she had to go all the way to Vale in order to find a lean and long-haired blond when I’m right here?”

Turnus looked at him, fixing Lausus with a somewhat baleful gaze.

Lausus was unabashed; it was a consequence of him knowing Turnus for so long that he had no fear of him. He met Turnus’ gaze with a smile, and a shrug. “You may look at me as hard as you like, my lord, and I’d not normally be the sort of cad who would interfere in another fellow’s meal, only … well, to be blunt, the main course doesn’t seem to want you very much. Look at the way she looks at him.”

Turnus had been keeping an eye on Elagabalus, as he mingled amongst the guests in the ballroom — and seemed to be partaking a little too liberally of the free drinks being offered by the wait staff, to be perfectly honest; hopefully, he would manage to get through his speech without falling over — but he spared a glance in the direction of Pyrrha and … Jaune Arc.

They looked … she was looking at him … to be appallingly honest, it reminded him a little of his parents.

“I may not have known Mom, but I know Dad didn’t marry her because of what her last name was or how strong it would make the family.”

You are as foolish as Juturna, Pyrrha, if you think you can simply ignore such things, especially now.

But at the same time, they really did look … in love.

Dammit.

The practical arguments in favour remained, the reasons and good cause he had to feel entitled remained, but … now that he had seen … now that he had been reminded of…

He was not a cruel man, save to those who gave him cause for cruelty. He practised to be kind and generous to his friends, a faithful and benevolent lord and employer to those who served him, an honourable man to those who warranted honour.

He had never killed a man who had not earned death; he had never betrayed anyone. He had been … mildly corrupt, financially speaking, upon occasion, but never to the detriment of a friend, and he had been generous to complete strangers to balance out the scales.

The idea of severing a happy relationship, a … a loving relationship, it did not fill him with glee. He did not rejoice at the idea. He hated it. His mother, were she alive, would surely scold him for the very idea of such a thing.

But then, if my parents were alive, I wouldn’t be in this position, would I?

I have to think of what is best for the family.

What is best for the family?

“Turnus,” Lausus said, “if I might speak to you not as one of your soldiers but as someone who has known you since we were five years old with snot dribbling down out of our nostrils—”

“That was you, not me,” Turnus said.

“Have you considered,” Lausus went on, “that perhaps you ought to give this up as a bad job?”

Turnus was silent for a moment, a scowl settling upon his face. “I … am considering it now,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

“Then do it!” Lausus cried. “For gods’ sake, let it go! Unlike some of us, you have no need to marry into money, or good family for that matter; your family is better than most already, and you’re already rich. Look to … a girl who wants you. A really nice girl who might not bring wealth or a grand old name to the table but who brings beauty and virtue and … and a heart full of love. Is that not enough for a man in your circumstances, blessed as you already are in material comforts?”

“You speak like a poet,” Turnus said.

“Oh, thank you; I’ve been practising.”

“You also conjure a paragon,” Turnus went on. “Where is such a wonder to be found?”

Lausus stared at him so flatly it was almost enough to make Turnus think that he had something on his face.

“I … I don’t even know where to start with you, sometimes,” Lausus said.

Turnus frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, my lord, nothing at all,” Lausus said. “Now, not counting Lady Pyrrha, do you think any of these other ladies gathered here are single and eligible?”

“I expect a good many of them will be Valish,” Turnus said. “How much of Mistral’s high society could you find in Vale on any given day?”

“I don’t mind Valish,” Lausus said, craning his neck a little to see better. “So long as they’re rich, or their fathers are.”

Turnus’ eyebrows rose. “What happened to beauty, virtue, and a heart full of love?”

“That was for you,” Lausus said. “You can afford it; I must marry well if I’m to restore the family fortunes.”

“Is that why you’re loaded with more gold than a treasure ship?” asked Turnus.

Lausus raised his chin. “These are the equivalent of a peacock’s feathers; they’re how I advertise myself as a potential prospect.”

“It doesn’t seem to be working very well,” Turnus said dryly. “Perhaps you should do a dance.”

“Do you think that would help?”

“No,” Turnus said firmly. “We are, as I remind you again, working. Keep your eyes on Lord Kiro.”

“The only danger Lord Kiro is in is if his liver gives out on him,” Lausus said.

Turnus paused for a moment. “I must say I’m inclined to agree.”

“Does he always drink this much?”

“He’s a connoisseur.”

“He’s not drinking like a connoisseur right now.”

Turnus frowned. “He has no job, no responsibilities, nothing to occupy him.” His frown deepened. “In that respect … he’s a lot like Juturna.”

“Pyrrha and Jaune are up there,” Bon Bon murmured.

“Hmm?” Tempest asked, looking up.

The two of them were both dressed in the grey jumpsuits of janitors, their faces concealed beneath grey caps. They had arrived at the embassy that morning and had spent the day performing various janitorial tasks or getting yelled at for not doing said tasks to the best of their ability. Bon Bon had spent the day emptying bins, restocking those little yellow things in the urinals in the mens’ toilet, mopping floors, vacuuming. Tempest had probably spent the day doing much the same thing.

Now they stood in the embassy basement, in the dark, with no lights on, surrounded by various bits and pieces that had ended up accumulated in the basement over the years.

And with a bomb between them.

“Pyrrha Nikos and Jaune Arc,” Bon Bon explained. “The A and the P in Team Sapphire. They’re upstairs, at the party.”

Tempest was silent for a moment. “Does that bother you?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Bon Bon admitted.

“Why?” asked Tempest.

Bon Bon frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I would have thought that it was an obvious question,” Tempest said. “Why does it bother you? Are they friends of yours?”

“No,” Bon Bon said. “No, they aren’t. But they are my classmates, and so, it bothers me that I might be about to blow them up.”

Tempest stared at her for a moment. “Well,” she said, “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think that anyone is going to get blown up.”

“Even though we brought a bomb in here and tampered with the security system?”

“We have to look as though we’re making an effort,” Tempest explained. “But, although Doctor Watts stands to benefit either way, I think that he stands to gain more from our failure than from our success.” She paused. “But they are our enemies, and there may come a time when we have to kill them. Is that going to cause problems?”

“Only from Pyrrha’s skill,” Bon Bon said.

Tempest snorted. “Yes, that … have you seen her fight against Cinder?”

“I saw her fight against Sunset first-hand.”

“You should watch the video,” Tempest told her. “It’s … instructive. Honestly, while I appreciate Doctor Watts’ confidence in the success of the Vale operation, I don’t know what we’re going to do about her.”

“Does anything need to be done about her?” Bon Bon asked. “Her or Sunset? I … you know the endgame here, don’t you?”

Which is more than I can say, unfortunately.

Tempest hesitated. “There is … an object, somewhere in this school. Something that Professor Ozpin is hiding. Hidden somewhere only Cinder can access. We need to find it, and we need to get it out.”

“And if that could be done without fighting—”

“Impossible,” Tempest said. “We need a distraction in order to draw eyes away from the hiding place, wherever that is.”

“You don’t know?”

Tempest shook her head. “Somewhere at Beacon, that’s all I know.”

“But what I mean is,” Bon Bon said. “There’s no kill list?”

“No,” Tempest agreed. “No one is marked for death. It can be done with as much or as little bloodshed as necessary; it doesn’t matter.” She paused. “Although, I think if Professor Ozpin himself could meet his end, that would be a welcome bonus.”

“As little bloodshed as possible would suit me,” Bon Bon said.

Tempest smiled. “It’s fine to say so, but if you’ll allow me to offer you some advice: tell everyone that’s because you prefer a more elegant solution to your problems instead of Cinder’s brutishness. It will make you sound a little less squeamish. I think Doctor Watts prefers elegant solutions as well.”

“I’m not sure how elegant a bomb is,” Bon Bon pointed out.

“There is only so much you can come up with on a tight timescale,” Tempest replied. “What did you tell your teammates, to excuse your absence?”

“I told them I was meeting an old friend, one I hadn’t seen for a while who had arrived in Vale unexpectedly,” Bon Bon replied. “I told them that I was going to spend as much time with them as I could, so don’t worry if I didn’t show up tonight. I know the restaurant I’m going to say we went to, the club where we went dancing … I’ve got everything planned out. You?”

“I told Trixie I was going to enjoy my Valish liberty before we have to return to the curfews and lights out of Atlas,” Tempest said. “A lot of students have been indulging themselves in the freedom of Beacon. It’s part of the cultural exchange that is the bedrock of the Vytal Festival.”

“Lucky you,” Bon Bon said. She paused. “So, now we wait.”

“Yes,” Tempest replied. “Now, we wait.”

Author's Note

Pyrrha's dress was designed and illustrated by the wonderful Tiffany Marsou

The Heart of Mistral, Part Two (New)

The Heart of Mistral, Part Two

"You want a lollipop, kid?"

Ruby's eyes narrowed as she glanced sideways at Tarpeia, who had spoken. "I'm fifteen, not six."

Tarpeia grinned. She was a tall, muscular woman with visible muscles defined upon her bare arms, with a grey tail — a wolf's tail, maybe, or a dog's; Ruby couldn't work it out for certain — sticking out through a hole cut in the back of her pants. Her hair was black but shaved off on one side of her head and brushed entirely over onto the left side where it fell down across her face to the shoulder. Her left ear was hidden beneath her straight hair, but her right ear was covered in piercings practically from top to bottom. She wore a plain and slightly dented and beaten metal cuirass strapped across her upper chest, over a black halter top, and a dark purple skirt over black leather pants and boots with steel toecaps and bands of metal running around them. She was wearing black fingerless gloves on her hands, but little of them could be seen beneath metal vambraces that covered the backs of her hands and forearms. Her upper arms were covered in tattoos, as well as the purple bandana tied around her right arm.

She was festooned with axes, with two thrust into the tiger stripe sash she wore around her waist, two slung across her back — the handles were visible sticking out above her shoulders — and two more worn at the back of her waist, their handles also emerging from behind her so that she could grab them.

In addition, various pouches also dangled from her sash, into one of which she was reaching now, opening it up to reveal that it was full of lollipops in a riot of colours.

"I don't carry these around in case I run into children," she said, plucking a red one out of the pouch and begin to unpeel the plastic wrapper. "But it's your loss," she added, as she stuck the lollipop into her mouth, the white straw sticking out from between her lips, bouncing up and down slightly as she sucked on the sweet.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Okay, I'll have one. Do you have any lemon ones?"

Tarpeia's grin broadened as she grabbed a yellow lollipop out of the pouch and tossed it to Ruby, who caught it one-handed.

"Thank you," she said.

"Tulla?" Tarpeia asked, taking the lollipop out of her mouth. "You want one?"

Tulla gave the slightest shake of her head, not taking her eyes away from the grounds around the embassy as she stood at the edge of the roof, one hand resting upon the stone wall that stood between her and the drop. She was only a little taller than Ruby, with black bear ears emerging from out of her blue-black hair, which she wore in a bowl-cut, longer at the back than the front. She was dressed in white robes, trimmed with red and clinched with an orange belt around her waist, and baggy black trousers. Her sleeves were cut back, so that they left her forearms free and didn't get in the way of the bow that she held lightly in her left hand, while on her right hand — the one resting upon the wall — she wore one of those archer's gloves that probably had a name which Ruby didn't know, that covered her first two fingers but left the others bare.

"Do you see anything?" Ruby asked as she unwrapped the lollipop that she had just caught.

"No," Tulla murmured. "Nothing yet. Of course…"

"Of course what?" Tarpeia asked.

"I was just thinking," Tulla said. "If you wanted to cause trouble … you might want to get inside before we showed up."

There was a moment of silence up on the roof.

"That … makes sense," Ruby said. "Depending on what kind of trouble you wanted to cause."

She still wasn't sure who would want to disrupt an event like this; Valish who were unhappy about giving the Heart of Mistral back? It seemed unlikely, but then, Ruby would have said that the ways in which Vale was descending into cruelty and bitterness seemed unlikely if you'd told her about it before it started happening.

Still, that was the only motive she could come up with for attacking this event; the White Fang didn't like Mistral very much, true, but the White Fang in Vale was pretty much gone after what had happened in Mountain Glenn, and Cinder had no reason to make a move here.

It seemed strange to think that the return of an old gemstone could provoke strong feelings in anybody.

"But," she added, "I think Valish police are on guard here normally."

"If you trust cops," Tarpeia muttered. She got out her scroll, opening it up and running her thumb over the screen.

Turnus' face appeared on the screen. "Tarpeia? Is something wrong?"

"Not up here, my lord," Tarpeia said, "but Tulla just had a thought: what if trouble was already in the building when we arrived?"

Turnus was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was raised louder. "Tulla, can you hold the fort up on the roof by yourself?"

"Yes, my lord," Tulla said.

"Good," Turnus said. "Tarpeia, come inside; you can help Lausus search the building. There's probably nothing here, at least I hope so, but it is a possibility. Well done, Tulla."

"Thank you, my lord," Tulla said.

"We'll be right there, my lord," Tarpeia added.

"'We'?"

"Ufens sent Ruby up here too, my lord," Tarpeia explained. "And you did say for Tulla to hold the fort alone."

"Yes, yes, I did, didn't I?" Turnus said. "Very well, I look forward to seeing you again soon, Ruby."

"We'll be there," Ruby said, as Tarpeia hung up. "Thank you," she added.

"If Tulla's right, then she's going to be very bored," Tarpeia said. "And you seem like the kind of girl who appreciates some excitement."

Ruby chuckled. "You could say that."

Tarpeia stuck the lollipop back into her mouth as she walked briskly, almost jogging, loping with her long legs, across the roof of the embassy. Most of said roof was flat, complete with space to land an airship on the roof — although there wasn't one there now — but there was a little structure jutting out on top of the roof, with a door leading to some stairs down into the embassy itself, and it was towards that door that Tarpeia moved, with Ruby following.

Ruby was right behind Tarpeia as the latter reached the door, taking the metallic handle and turning it.

Nothing happened.

Tarpeia frowned, pushing against the door, rattling the handle.

The door did not open. It didn't even move.

"Must be locked," Tarpeia grunted out of her half her mouth.

Ruby licked at her lollipop. "I guess they didn't want anyone coming in that way during the party. Or else they keep it locked more often than not."

"Either way, we don't want to go kicking it down," Tarpeia said. "We're supposed to be the security, not the damage. We'll have to go down the ladder and get in by the front door."

That was how Ruby had got up to them in the first place: by climbing the grey metal ladder that ran all the way from the ground to the roof, passing by the many rows of windows as it went. Again, Tarpeia took the lead, her boots rattling upon every metal rung as she descended methodically downwards towards the well-kept lawn of the embassy.

Ruby would have slid down with her hands and legs on the outside of the ladder, but with Tarpeia between her and the bottom, that wasn't really feasible, so she, too, climbed down one rung at a time, her cloak rustling behind her as it bounced lightly up and down.

"Do you really think there's anything in there?" she asked.

"Likely not," Tarpeia replied, calling up to her, "but we get paid to consider it. I mean, technically, we're paid to protect Lord Kiro, not the embassy, but since he's in the embassy, you know."

"Yeah," Ruby said. "I think so. Can I ask, are you a huntress?"

"Nah," Tarpeia said. "I never went to any school or passed any exams. I'm … just a bit of a thug, really. Why?"

"I just wondered," Ruby explained. "How many huntsmen are there in Rutulian Security?"

The only sound as Tarpeia thought was the sound of her boots on the ladder. "Five … I think. I know Lausus graduated from Haven, but I don't know if his old man ever did; I don't know everything about everyone's past. Sorry."

"It's okay," Ruby assured. "It doesn't really matter; I was just a little curious."

"Nothing wrong with that," Tarpeia said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"What do you get out of going to that school?" Tarpeia asked. "Like I said, Lausus graduated, but Camilla never did, and she'd rip him apart if it came to a fight, and the same for my lord, too. Even I … I don't know if I'd win, but I'd be willing to give it a shot. And from the sounds of it, you're pretty damn handy already, and you're only … first year?"

"Yep."

"So what are you learning that makes it worthwhile? Because it doesn't seem like you learn how to fight," Tarpeia said.

"No, I guess we aren't," Ruby admitted. "Although we do get to see how a range of opponents fight in combat class, sparring with our classmates. Different weapons, different styles and techniques, so that if we run into something like them in the field, we aren't caught by surprise, I suppose. But mostly—"

"Book learning?"

"Some of that, yeah," Ruby said. "But … Professor Ozpin says that most of the students have already arrived at Beacon knowing how to fight, but that school teaches them how to be heroes."

Tarpeia reached the bottom of the ladder, leaping the last few feet onto the grass. "You mean like a mindset thing?"

Ruby slid down the ladder the last bit of the way. "I think so, yeah."

"Is it working?"

"Um … for some people," Ruby replied diplomatically.

Tarpeia didn't reply. She just sucked on her lollipop, pushing it from one side to the other around her mouth, and smiled.

The two of them walked around to the front of the embassy. Ufens spotted them, lumbering over even as they came closer to him.

"Something up?" he asked.

Tarpeia took the lollipop out of her mouth. "I hope not, but my lord asked us to come inside, help Lausus search the place, in case someone got here or something was done before we arrived."

Ufens grunted. "Makes sense, I suppose. Does Tulla need anyone up there with her?"

"She says not," Tarpeia replied.

"Hmm," Ufens murmured. "I might send Catillus up there anyway. Good luck in there; I hope you find nothing."

"I hope so too," Tarpeia replied, turning away from Ufens and approaching the door.

The door which, as they walked towards it, was covered from outside by a green barrier, a lattice of hexagons making up a wall that covered up the doors and windows and surrounded the whole embassy, rising upwards toward the roof.

"What the—?" Tarpeia muttered.

"Is that hard light?" Ruby asked.

Tarpeia didn't answer, except to pull one of the axes from her sash and throw it at the door. The weapon spun through the air, before striking the barrier, where it simply stopped, dead, the blade biting nothing, before the axe flopped down to the steps with a thump and a rattle.

Tarpeia twisted her wrist, and a small purple stone — or not a stone, a gravity dust crystal — began to glow, along with a second crystal set in the shaft of the axe itself as the axe flew back into her outstretched hand. "Ufens!" she yelled. "We've got a problem here!"

It was not just Ufens; from the corners of Ruby's eyes, she could see all the Rutulians who had been scattered across the grounds moving towards them.

"I guess it's a security measure," Ruby said. "Something to protect the embassy against attack. Although that doesn't feel very Mistralian, no offence."

"None taken," Ufens said. "But this is Vale, not Mistral, after all."

"Sure, but why is it up?" Tarpeia demanded. "If there was anything out here to be worried about, we'd know about it before anyone inside."

Ufens got out his scroll, his fingers moving with surprising deftness. "Euryalus, do you see anything?"

"Other than the shield that just went up? No, nothing."

"I'll see what my lord has to say about it; maybe something happened inside," Ufens muttered. He frowned. "I can't get a signal. How can there be no signal? He's right there."

"Could something be jamming it?" asked Tarpeia.

"But why?" demanded Ufens.

Ruby got out her own scroll, flicking through her call lists until she found Jaune's name. She pressed the call button, but an error message flashed up on the screen — no signal, just like Ufens said. "I'm not getting anything either," she said.

Jaune, Pyrrha, what's going on in there?

“Pyrrha Nikos!”

Pyrrha stopped, inhaling through her nostrils, and ever so slightly tightened her grip upon Jaune’s forearm as she turned, her skirt rustling as it swooshed around her, to face the woman who had called her name.

She was a reporter; Pyrrha had seen her on television, and her name was … Merope, Merope Plei, a woman about Professor Goodwitch’s age, with brown hair worn in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in an all-white jacket, blouse, and pencil skirt, with sparkling silver sandals on her feet. A necklace of seven diamonds, sparkling amidst a string of black pearls, hung moderately loosely around her neck. She held a microphone in one hand, and a cameraman followed her, the camera fixed upon his subject.

Pyrrha affected not to notice the camera. This was something at which she had had no small amount of practice: keep your attention on the interviewer, don’t look into the camera unless you’re being invited to speak directly to camera: it looks nervous and rude to the interviewer.

“Yes?” she said, in a tone that was calm and polite. “Hello.”

“Pyrrha Nikos, I’m Merope Plei of MBC In the Evening, may I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, because there were times when refusing to answer a question was worse than the worst answer you could possibly give. She loosened her grip upon Jaune’s arm so that he could step away from her if he chose to.

He didn’t, for which she was quite grateful.

Merope held the microphone out towards her. “Would you agree that this is a proud and historic day for Mistral?”

Pyrrha felt gratified that they were starting with something actually relevant to tonight’s event. “I’m sure that many people will be glad to see this part of our heritage returned to Mistral, where it can be enjoyed by all Mistralians in the Mistral Museum,” she said.

“That isn’t exactly the question I asked: do you think this is a proud moment for Mistral?”

“I think … that those who negotiated the return of the Heart of Mistral have reason to be proud of their accomplishment.”

“You’re like a politician, Miss Nikos; you’re not answering the question.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I think… I think that there are many things of which Mistral can be proud, but I must say I’m not sure that getting a ruby back, however much history it possesses, is one of them.”

“So you don’t think that this is a historic moment?”

“It is … of historical significance,” Pyrrha replied.

“I see,” Merope murmured. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve had a bit of a tough time of it lately with the allegations made against you, but you’ve clawed back some of that support with your recent actions, your duel against this mysterious Cinder Fall, are you proud of yourself for that?”

Yes, I am. I’m proud because I won, because I proved that I could win, that I could triumph over her. I am proud because I proved to myself that I am not doomed to irrelevance. “I wish that I had finished her,” she said.

Merope’s eyebrows rose. “You wish that you’d killed her?”

“She was my enemy,” Pyrrha said. “She is an enemy of the world.”

“How so?” Merope asked. “We know so little about this woman, except that she’s been declared an outlaw.”

“She worked with the White Fang to cause the Breach here in Vale,” Pyrrha said. “Is that not enough to name her an enemy?”

“Do you know more?”

“No,” Pyrrha lied.

“Even though she was friends with your team leader, Sunset Shimmer,” Merope said. “That’s been substantiated by witnesses; they were frequently seen together.”

“Sunset was deceived by Cinder,” Pyrrha declared. “As many others were.”

“Such as Professor Lionheart?” Merope asked. “Do you think he has questions to answer?”

“I would not presume to say,” Pyrrha replied.

“But you were not and are not associated with Cinder Fall in any way?”

“No,” Pyrrha said firmly. “As I believe I proved.”

“So you deny the rumours that the fight between you was staged.”

“I would invite anyone who thinks that fight was staged to put their name to that accusation,” Pyrrha said, her voice sharpening like the edges of Miló. “They may get the opportunity to see for themselves that I do not stage fights.”

“Are you saying you would fight more duels?”

“If I must,” Pyrrha said, “to protect the integrity of my name.”

“To the death?”

“No, of course not,” Pyrrha replied. “I would never try and kill anyone merely for the sake of my pride or my reputation.”

“Unless their name was Cinder Fall?”

“Unless they deserved death for other reasons,” Pyrrha corrected her.

“So will you be challenging those who are petitioning to have you stripped of your honours in the temple?”

“I will challenge anyone who is trained to fight,” Pyrrha said. “I will not attack anyone who does not know how to defend themselves.”

“I see,” Merope said evenly. “And are you worried about losing your temple honours?”

Pyrrha wasn’t sure if she was being asked if she was afraid it would happen or if she would mind if it did. “I would rather it didn’t happen,” she said, “but I don’t think it will.”

“You don’t think you’ll lose your honours in the temple?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I think that I’ve shown these accusations for the nonsense they are.”

“You are willing to state, here, categorically, on camera, that there is no truth to the allegations about your relationship with Cinder Fall.”

“I am,” Pyrrha said. “Absolutely and without hesitation.”

“Then where do these allegations come from, and why do so many people believe them?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts, assembling her reply, mustering it like a lord raising an army beneath their manner. How much ought she to say, how cautious ought she to be, how mild and modest, how conciliatory, how…?

Except that that hasn’t actually helped me, has it? It has not stopped the breeding of these people who seek to tear me down.

Well then, so much for them.

“I,” she said, “am Pyrrha Nikos. I was trained by the great Chiron himself, I am descended from the Emperors of Mistral past, and I have four times ridden in triumph through the streets and dedicated my spoils to Victory. And I am … blessed in the love of the people who have taken me into their hearts and raised me up with their unfailing support.”

That was not entirely how she saw it, certainly not all of the time, but this was not time to get into the particulars of how, exactly, she felt about being an object of celebrity and adoration.

“But that support, those triumphs, the honours which I have done by Mistral have bred envy in others, and I have no doubt that that envy, and the desire to see me humbled, the belief that I am made too proud and set too high, is behind these scurrilous and wholly untrue accusations against me. Those who could not defeat me in the arena wish instead to see me stripped of all those things which I earned by my own skill and effort. Very well. Let them take them, if they can. I hope, and I believe, that the people of Mistral whose support has always strengthened me and driven me to victory will see through this ridiculous defamation of my name, but if not, then let it be so.

“For I am Pyrrha Nikos, and someday, I will become a huntress, and whether I am a huntress as I will be or a student as I am now or something completely different, my sword and shield will always be at the service of Mistral, whether Mistral admires me or reviles me or is completely indifferent to my existence, then I will ever be at her service. That is my vow, upon my honour and before the gods of home, and I mean to hold to that vow such that one day men will look at my life and say it was impossible to believe that I was ever other than what I appear to be: someone who loved her city and was as she was to herself. Can my slanderers say the same?”

Merope stared. “I … think we’ll leave it there,” she said. “Thank you, Lady Pyrrha.”

She started to bow her head, then seemed to think better of it and stop herself before it could be proven to be anything more than a particularly deep nod, then backed away, then turned away and disappeared into the crowd, her cameraman following after.

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t known was building up inside her. She looked at Jaune. “How did I do?”

Jaune smiled, although his smile had a slightly nervous tint about it. “You really went for it at the end there. Pulled out all the stops. Are you sure that was the smart thing to do?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Pyrrha admitted. “But it was how I felt, and I … hiding how I feel did not really help me at all, did it?”

“No,” Jaune replied. “No, I guess not. It was … impressive. I’m not sure how people in Mistral will react, but from where I was standing, it was impressive. They certainly weren’t able to say you hadn’t answered the question on that one.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said, a touch of amusement entering her voice. “I take comfort from the fact that she stopped asking afterwards; with luck, she had no more questions to ask.”

Jaune nodded. “And for what it’s worth, even without knowing everything I know, I don’t know anyone who could look at what you’ve done and think that you could be in league with Cinder. Although…”

“'Although'?”

“Although you might not have wanted to be so clear about the extra duels,” Jaune suggested. “You don’t want to get yourself so backed up with challenges you don’t have time for anything else.”

Pyrrha chuckled, covering her mouth with one green-gloved hand. “Well, I hope that it won’t come to that,” she replied. “If I have that many challengers, or those whom I must challenge, then things are bad indeed.”

Jaune smiled. “And you’re fine calling everyone out like that?”

“I’m not looking to enter politics,” Pyrrha said. “I didn’t like the thought of giving up my reputation unfought, but at the end of the day, I don’t need the good opinion of anyone. Well … not of most people. Especially,” — she took a step closer to him — “especially if I’m going to be working in the shadows for the foreseeable future. In which case, I must admit, it might be better if I were regarded with indifference, but—”

“But you’re allowed to like being liked,” Jaune assured her. “For all the trouble that your life, your status, everything about it has caused you, I think it’s okay for you to admit that, actually, being admired for something you’re good at isn’t all bad.”

Pyrrha bowed her head for a moment. “If I had never been an object of admiration, then that would be one thing, but … to have it, frustrating as it has sometimes been, only to lose it for reasons that are not my fault, which are completely unfounded and untrue … that would be a stinging blow indeed.”

“Good thing it won’t happen then, huh?” Jaune said. “I mean, look at the ambassador’s daughter. Look at—”

“The reactions to my fight,” Pyrrha added. “One of many reasons I’m glad I fought that night.”

Jaune nodded. “You have had more of a spring in your step since that night.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Really? A spring in my step?”

“Uh-huh,” Jaune said. “More confident, more sure of yourself. You don’t hesitate as much when you speak.”

“I don’t?” Pyrrha asked. “I had no idea. But I suppose I do feel more certain of myself. I haven’t felt this confident in who I am since before the dance.”

“You’re Pyrrha Nikos,” Jaune told her.

“Yes, I am,” Pyrrha said. “But now I feel as though I know better, or know once more, what that means.”

Anything else they might have said to one another was interrupted by the sound of Lord Wong clinking the side of his champagne glass. Gradually, all the chatter in the ballroom fell silent, and the eyes and faces turned to the ambassador.

“Ladies and gentlemen, honoured guests,” Lord Wong said, his voice raised to carry across the room — not that he needed to raise it far, for he spoke loudly already. “We are gathered here for a moment of restitution. A moment when a ghost of the past is finally laid to rest. The Heart of Mistral, that most brilliant and precious gem, was not the only thing that Mistral lost at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns, or in the wider Great War.”

Indeed not, Pyrrha thought, thinking for a moment of all the men and women who had marched from small villages and quiet towns across Anima, answering the summons of their lords and of their Emperor, shouldering spears and staves and sharpened hoes because they could not let the Valish challenge pass them by.

We’ll show them all, whate’er befall,

Old Mistral counts for something still.

They had not won the war, they might not even have proved that Mistral counted for anything in the modern world, yet Pyrrha did wonder if those men and women who had fought the war, who had marched from their small villages and quiet towns, and the petty lords who had led them on, taking their ancestral blades from off the walls and girding their ancient armour on, might not have displayed more of the famous Mistralian valour than all the heroes of The Mistraliad.

“But this is at least a loss we may bring home again,” Lord Wong went on, “and for that, Vale has our gratitude. And so, it is my pleasure to welcome tonight, the First Councillor of Vale, Aspen Emerald.”

A round of polite applause, in which Pyrrha and Jaune joined, greeted Councillor Emerald as he stepped out of the crowd, the light from the chandelier shining upon his proud antlers. In his hands, he held a wooden casket, a carved box which no doubt contained the Heart of Mistral within it.

But first, he turned to the crowd.

“My grandfather fought in the Great War,” he said, “and he was proud to have done so. He was proud to have fought for Vale and for the freedom of the faunus. No doubt, there were many who fought for Mistral who were equally proud to have fought for their kingdom, its pride, its flag, its honour. After the war, I fear that there were many who did not heed the words of the Last King of Vale: with malice towards none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as we are given to see the right, let us bind up the wounds of all our kingdoms. Nowhere, I fear, is this more apparent than in the matter of the Heart of Mistral: an item taken from a slain enemy and kept as a trophy; a symbol of victory for Vale, but for Mistral, a sore wound that refused to heal.

“No more. Today, at last, we bind up that wound. Today, we leave the injury of the past behind and look towards a new, bright future of Valish and Mistralian cooperation. Tonight, it is with both humility and pleasure that I return the Heart of Mistral to the descendant of its rightful owner, Lord Elagabalus Kiro, on behalf of the Council and the People of Mistral.”

More applause, a little louder this time, as Lord Kiro stepped out of the crowd, his boots squeaking on the floor.

Pyrrha noticed Turnus edging towards the front of the crowd, with Lord Lau— no, he wasn’t a lord any longer, was he? His family had been stripped of that rank — with Lausus Agylla, then, by his side. Their eyes were fixed upon Lord Kiro.

Pyrrha had met Lord Kiro himself a few times before, although not very often. She could admit to herself that he had not impressed her greatly; he was like many of the men she had met before Jaune; he saw her name, her reputation, but not herself. And though she could now admit that she was not wholly indifferent to that same reputation, that still did not mean that she liked it to be taken as the sum total of all she was.

Plus his breath frequently smelled of drink to an uncomfortable extent, at least when Pyrrha had encountered him.

Judging by the slight roll to his gait, like a sailor, as he walked forwards, Pyrrha thought that that might be the case now, if she had been close enough to smell his breath.

“Thank you, First Councillor,” he said, plucking the wooden cask from Councillor Emerald’s unprotesting hands. “Thank you so much indeed for your warm words. Yes, we are most fortunate, most blessed, to have with us the highest representative of the Kingdom of Vale, the kingdom which killed my ancestor and stole his property, here to finally give back what is rightfully mine.” He laughed. “Except that it is not mine, is it? This gem, this precious jewel,” — he opened the box and took out the Heart, holding it up so that the light from the chandelier caught it, making it sparkle beautifully — “this was bestowed upon my house by the Emperor himself upon his daughter’s wedding day, and if it had not been looted from a corpse in war, it would be with my family still. But, because there has been a ghoulish intermission in my family’s custody, I am told that I may not take back what is mine, but only carry it homeward, to be placed in a museum for the common people to gawk at.”

“This is not what I expected him to say,” Jaune whispered into her ear.

“I don’t think this is what anyone expected him to say,” Pyrrha replied, equally quietly.

Lord Wong looked as though he was determined to look anywhere but at Lord Kiro, with the result that he was examining the mosaic on the floor as if he was seeing it for the very first time. Councillor Emerald was looking straight ahead, a rictus smile set on his face as though it had been painted there.

Merope Plei’s cameraman was filming all of it, as whispers ran through the crowd.

“Of course, the esteemed Valish councillor is not the only guest we are fortunate enough to have amongst us tonight,” Lord Kiro went on. “We are also graced by Lady Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, whose great-grandfather ordered my ancestor, and many other valiant Mistralians, to their deaths in the Great War, and specifically in the Battle of the Four Sovereigns. All hail to the butcher’s descendant, let us all thrill to her beauty and her grace. Although if the rumours are true, it seems that butchery may run in the family.”

Gasps of shock ran all through the crowd, although Pyrrha guessed that at least some of those who gasped did so in shock that he had been so gauche as to say aloud what others merely thought in private.

“Wait here, Jaune,” she murmured as she took her hand from his arm.

“What happened to not challenging those who couldn’t fight?” Jaune said softly.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Pyrrha said. “But I need to make my position clear.”

She could not fight Lord Kiro — he had never trained in arms, at least not to her level; if she fought him, she would look like as much of a mere bully as if she had challenged Jaune’s former brother-in-law to single combat — but she could make it clear that she had no intention of suffering in silence to be insulted.

She stepped forward, just past the edge of the crowd, so that she could be seen without seeming to seek to grab all attention.

“Lord Kiro,” she said, “if you were a warrior, then I would call you out. As you are not, for which you may be thankful, I ask if there is a warrior here willing to champion you and defend your lies.” She looked at Turnus. “Perhaps you, Lord Rutulus?”

Turnus’ eyebrows rose, and it seemed to take him a moment to realise that she was sincere. When he did, he let out a sort of cough laugh before he said, “That would be a rare sparring match, I have no doubt, Lady Pyrrha, but I fear that I cannot champion words that I know to be false. I do not doubt your honour, I will not question it, I will not fight in defence of one who questions it.” He stepped forwards, taking Lord Kiro firmly by the arm with his free hand. “However, I ask you all to pardon Lord Kiro, he is … unwell, and would not speak thus if he were in health. With your leave, Lord Wong, I will take him to the bathroom to … recover his composure.”

“I am not unwell—”

“Come along, you,” Turnus muttered, effortlessly manhandling Lord Kiro, in spite of his squirming struggles and his protestations, towards one of the exits from the ballroom. Lausus followed after them.

The silence that followed Lord Kiro’s departure could only be described as 'embarrassed.'

It only felt moreso the longer it was given to settle into the room, like a guest who, though uninvited, proceeds to sit down on the window seat and make themselves very comfortable indeed, so that with each passing moment, it becomes harder and harder to bid them go without seeming rude.

“Perhaps,” Lord Wong said, “Lady Pyrrha, scion of the House of Nikos, who once held the Heart of Mistral in their possession, might say a few words upon this occasion.”

Thank you very much, my lord, Pyrrha thought, as eyes began to turn in her direction.

Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking…

She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to gather thoughts she had not known she needed until a moment ago.

“This,” she said, “is a proud and historic moment.” Thank you, Ms Plei. “A moment of gratitude and celebration.”

She spoke slowly, enunciating each word with immense precision, practically drawling her words as much as she could, giving herself time as she slowly spoke each word to think about the words that would come after without seeming to hesitate or break up her sentences. It was not something that she did in private conversation, because it sounded incredibly artificial to her own ears — or worse, made her sound stupid — but it was a technique she had been taught for getting through interviews after matches, which was really the worst time to be interviewed, when you were tired, coming down off the adrenaline rush, with the roar of the crowd still ringing in your ears.

Although this situation is giving it competition. “We celebrate the return of this beautiful jewel to Mistral, where it belongs not to my family or any family, but to the whole kingdom to see and enjoy. And we are grateful to Vale for returning it to us.” She bowed her head, and her speech quickened to something closer to normal as she said, “Thank you, First Councillor, thank you, if I may be so bold, from all of Mistral, with all of our hearts.”

Fortunately, everyone understood that she had finished — Lord Wong had only asked for some brief words, after all — and began to applaud, clapping their hands together lightly, fingers to palms.

Councillor Emerald smiled and nodded to her as the musicians began to play once more.

Pyrrha’s lips twitched in a smile. “How was that?” she asked Jaune in a hushed whisper.

“You sounded a little … odd, at times, the way you were stringing out your words,” Jaune said.

“I know,” Pyrrha muttered. “That’s why I prefer to hesitate when I’m unsure what to say.”

“But there was nothing wrong with the sentiment,” Jaune assured her. “I’m sure that with practice, you’d be great at that.”

“I do not really desire practice,” Pyrrha replied. “I rather hope that I never have to do anything like that again.”

“Get your hands off me,” Elagabalus protested weakly as Turnus half steered, half-dragged him towards the nearest bathroom. “I am paying you to protect me—”

“I am protecting you,” Turnus said, “from embarrassing yourself any more than you have already.”

“Is it embarrassing to speak the truth?” Elagabalus asked.

“Sometimes, yes,” Turnus replied. Even when it isn’t dangerous.

There was a bathroom not too far from the ballroom, marked by the illuminated sign lit up in green beside the two doors for men and women.

Turnus pushed open the door into the men’s toilet and dragged Elagabalus inside, Lausus following behind them. The mossy green carpeted floor of the corridor outside was changed at once to magnolia tiles, slightly slippery as though they had not long been mopped, with a row of sinks — or rather, one continuous sink-trough with a row of taps running along it — taking up one entire wall. The other wall was occupied half by cubicles and half by urinals.

“Hold my spear a second, won’t you, Lausus?”

“Of course, my lord,” Lausus said, taking Turnus’ spear, Actor, from his hand.

Turnus guided Elagabalus towards the back of the room, leading him along the rows of taps, while Lausus remained close to the door, keeping a respectful distance.

“What are we doing?” Elagabalus asked sourly.

Turnus turned on one of the taps, sticking his free hand under it; with his glove on, he could not feel the water, but he could see it pooling a little in his hand regardless.

Until he flicked it into Elagabalus’ face. And then he did it again.

“Gah!” Elagabalus growled, flinching away from the water, raising his arm to shield himself. “Stop that! What are you doing?”

“Trying to recall you to your senses a little,” Turnus said flatly. “How much did you have to drink, or don’t I want to know?”

“I had a little aperitif in the hotel bar before we came here,” Elagabalus said. “It was nothing, really, just something to steady my nerves.”

“Your nerves?” Turnus repeated. “What did you have to be nervous about? All you had to do was take the Heart from the First Councillor and say a few pleasant nothings. Instead … what were you thinking?”

Elagabalus put down the box containing the Heart of Mistral, resting the wooden cask down in the trough that served as a communal sink for anyone who wanted to use the bathroom. He bowed his head, and Turnus thought for a moment that he didn’t want any more water thrown in his face, but then a bitter laugh escaped his mouth, causing his shoulders to shake.

“What am I thinking?” Elagabalus muttered. “What am I thinking? Perhaps I have thought too much, or perhaps you have thought too little. Perhaps I am thinking clearly for the first time in my life.”

Turnus did not reply. He wasn’t sure how to even begin. Elagabalus wasn’t making any sense to him, but he trusted — he hoped — that there was more to come that would make sense of it.

Elagabalus looked up at him. “Look at us, Turnus; look at us.” He gestured to the mirror fitted to the wall above the taps, and to their reflections looking back at them. “Look at us.” He jabbed at his own reflection with one finger. “Men bred to rule the world.” He laughed again. “Men bred to rule a world that does not exist. Born, bred, fashioned, taught, suited by blood and upbringing to command armies, provinces, kingdoms. To have our names lay all of Mistral at our feet.” He sighed. “We are raised on stories of a world that was, but the world that is has no room for us. Look at us, Turnus, and Lausus too; look at us. Would not our ancestors weep to see us brought so low?”

Turnus looked at his reflection in the mirror, dressed in Atlesian armour, standing in a bathroom whence he had just brought a somewhat inebriated man to get a grip on himself.

My ancestors would have had a slave do this.

My ancestors would have put Camilla in chains and taken her to bed for their pleasure every night until they were tired of her.

Let us not pretend that the past was a golden age from which we have declined immeasurably in all things.

“Times change,” he said, “and so does the world we live in.”

“Especially when change is forced at swordpoint,” Elagabalus said. “Vale did this to us. Vale and the House of Nikos, whose incompetence led us to ruin. How can the people cheer her, acclaim her, praise her, when it is her family that is the present cause of all of Mistral’s woes and sorrows? Is not the Great War the reason behind everything?”

“Eighty years ago,” Turnus replied. “I doubt most people care.”

“No,” Elagabalus agreed. “Of course they don’t care. Shortsighted peasants who don’t care about anything earlier than this morning and later than tonight. That is why … but it is their fault, the fault of that family. That is why … I can believe that she is all that they say she is; after all, her family has been destroying Mistral for generations back, why not her?” He paused a moment. “You wouldn’t defend me. I’m rather hurt. Were you scared of her?” He chuckled. “Is the great duellist afraid?”

Turnus snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “But as I said, I cannot defend a position that I do not believe in, and I do not believe that Pyrrha Nikos is a traitor.”

“Why not?”

“Because if the most notable champion our kingdom has had in years, our greatest warrior, has turned upon us, then we are truly lost,” Turnus said. “Woe unto Mistral if even our best believe that we are beyond saving.”

“What if we are?” Elagabalus asked.

Turnus frowned. “I do not believe it. Our ancestors rose from nothing once; we are not so badly placed we cannot rise again.”

Elagabalus was silent for a moment. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “Perhaps…” He fell silent for a moment. “We could have had everything, you know.”

“Let’s not wallow too much in self-pity,” Turnus said. “We have a great deal, still.”

“Mmm,” Elagabalus said, “Perhaps. Perhaps you’re right.” He straightened up. “I feel better now, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Turnus asked.

“Quite sure,” Elagabalus said, picking up the wooden casket with the Heart of Mistral inside, with one hand scooping it out of the trough. “I am ready to return to the ballroom.”

“Perhaps going back to the hotel would be better,” Turnus suggested. “Certainly, it would be less embarrassing.”

“I can handle embarrassment,” Elagabalus assured him. “Besides, I think that I owe Lord Wong an apology, don’t you?”

“He’s not the only one,” Turnus said. “But very well, if that is what you wish.”

“Then lead the way,” Elagabalus told him.

Turnus did as was bade, sidling past Elagabalus — who made way for him — and retrieving his spear from Lausus as the two of them stepped out of the bathroom first, with Elagabalus behind.

They were about to start making their way back to the ballroom when Turnus’ scroll went off.

“Hang on a moment,” he said.

“Of course,” Elagabalus said, taking a few steps backwards to give Turnus some space.

Turnus leaned his spear up against the wall, got out his scroll, and answered it. It was Tarpeia.

"Tarpeia?” Turnus said. “Is something wrong?" He hadn’t heard anything from outside to indicate that there was, but he didn’t know how well insulated the embassy was against that sort of thing.

"Not up here, my lord," Tarpeia replied, "but Tulla just had a thought: what if trouble was already in the building when we arrived?"

Turnus pursed his lips together as he considered that. He should, he realised, have considered it sooner, but he had trusted that the Valish police would do their jobs and ensure that there was nothing amiss at the embassy before the reception.

Careless of me. Of course it is possible for someone to slip through and into the embassy if they wished. He confessed that he could not immediately think of who would wish to do such a thing — one of the reasons he had been … complacent was that it was hard to imagine who would want to disrupt this handover; he had been more concerned about the possibility or pirates trying to steal the ruby on its way back to Mistral than anyone attempting to attack the embassy while it was being given to Elagabalus.

Of course, some people don’t need a reason. And for others, the fact that a theft is less likely here would be all the more reason to attempt it. He raised his voice so that he could be heard across the embassy roof. "Tulla, can you hold the fort up on the roof by yourself?"

Although he could not see Tulla, he could hear her reply clearly. “Yes, my lord.”

"Good," Turnus said. "Tarpeia, come inside; you can help Lausus search the building. There's probably nothing here, at least I hope so, but it is a possibility. Well done, Tulla."

"Thank you, my lord," Tulla said.

"We'll be right there, my lord," Tarpeia added.

"'We'?"

"Ufens sent Ruby up here too, my lord," Tarpeia explained. "And you did say for Tulla to hold the fort alone."

"Yes, yes, I did, didn't I?" Turnus said. "Very well, I look forward to seeing you again soon, Ruby."

"We'll be there," Ruby said, before Tarpeia hung up.

Turnus snapped his scroll shut and put his scroll. “Lausus,” he said, “start searching the embassy, check all the corridors, all the rooms that are unlocked; I’ll speak to Lord Wong about having the locked rooms unlocked. Tarpeia and Ruby will be joining you soon. Lord Ki—”

Turnus turned around, and as he did so, a barrier of green hard light, such as they had in Atlas for use in prisons, shields, that sort of thing, descended from the ceiling, planting a see-through wall down the middle of the corridor between himself and Elagabalus.

“What the—?” Turnus said. “What is this?”

Elagabalus did not look ruffled by this at all; in fact, there was a smirk playing upon the edges of his mouth as he looked up and down. “This? This is a hard light shield, I think, although you would be more familiar with the like than I would from your time in Atlas. I understand that these things were installed all over the embassy recently, when the White Fang attacks began.”

Turnus frowned. “What’s going on?”

Elagabalus was silent for a moment. “We could have had everything,” he said. “You and I. I would have given you everything, you could have been my right hand, I would have made you my Steward, given you whatever you wished. All you had to do was help me.”

“Help you?” Turnus repeated. The conversation from yesterday? “What have you done?”

“You told me that there was an heir to the throne with a better claim than me,” Elagabalus said. “And that is true, but it won’t be true for very much longer. You told me that nobody would want me to assume the throne, but the minds of the people will change once I have struck a blow against Vale and avenged the injuries done to us in the Great War, when I bring home not only the Heart of Mistral but also Mistral’s pride and glory too. And you told me you would not help me, but when you are gone, it strikes me that your pet dogs will be looking for a new master.”

“When I…” Turnus’ mouth hung open for a moment. “If you kill me, then Camilla will take your head the moment you set foot back in Mistral, you absolute idiot!”

“I’m not so sure.”

“That’s because you’re a moron,” Turnus snapped. “Take this barrier down right now—”

“Or what?” Elagabalus demanded. “You’re in no position to dictate terms to me.”

“I’m the only person who can keep you alive!”

“I will be Emperor of Mistral by the time this year is out!” Elagabalus declared. “And you … you will not even be a footnote in the history of my rise.” He turned away without another word and stomped off with what Turnus could only think to be a degree of petulance in his gait, his steps thumping despite the way the carpet muffled them.

“With respect, my lord,” Lausus said, “he was always a bit of a little twat, even when we were at school.”

Turnus snorted. “Harsh, Lausus. Not necessarily wrong, but harsh.”

“What do you think he meant about killing us, my lord?” asked Lausus.

“I don’t know for sure,” Turnus said, “but I don’t intend to hang around to find out.”

Tempest and Bon Bon stepped out in front of the brightly dressed man with the ludicrous hair who came down the corridor towards them, appearing out of the shadows to bar his way.

“Lord Elagabalus Kiro, I presume?” Tempest asked.

He straightened out his bright yellow coat, tugging on the lapels. “I am,” he said, “and you are?”

“Our names aren’t important,” Bon Bon said. “What’s important is that we are your chauffeurs for tonight, and your car is waiting, if you’d care to follow us.”

“Of course,” Lord Kiro said. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

And so they led him out of the embassy and down into the underground parking garage; no sooner had they stepped out of the building proper and into the car park than a hard light barrier rose behind them, sealing off the way and ensuring that they could not be pursued — and that nobody could escape the embassy that way.

Bon Bon jogged ahead, reaching the cleaning company van that they had used to get down here in the first place, unlocking it and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“This?” Lord Kiro demanded. “A cleaner’s van?”

“I am sure that you can arrange to arrive in Mistral in a style suitable to your exalted station, my lord,” Tempest said as she opened the rear doors for him to climb in. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Lord Kiro groaned. “Very well, if I must. What about the bomb?”

Tempest grinned. “My lord, what with all signals into or out of the embassy being jammed, there is no way that we could activate the bomb from here. So we started the timer before we even left.”

“My lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” Turnus said, his voice loud enough to strike the ceiling as he strode briskly into the ballroom, accompanied by Lausus but with no sign of Lord Kiro, “I am sorry to inform you that Lord Kiro has betrayed us. I think it would be best if everyone were to evacuate the building immediately.”

“'Betrayed'?” Councillor Emerald repeated. “What do you mean, 'betrayed'?”

“He talked about wanting to kill you, me … and Lady Pyrrha,” Turnus said, glancing in Pyrrha’s direction.

She felt Jaune’s hand tighten on her arm.

Me? But why would he … surely not because of the allegations? No, no, if that were so, then he would hardly want to kill Lord Rutulus and Councillor Emerald too.

“His scheme is absurd,” Turnus went on, “but that doesn’t mean the danger isn’t real. I don’t know what he means to do, but I advise that everyone get out now.”

“And if this is a trap?” Lord Wong asked, placing his free hand upon his daughter’s head. “If Lord Kiro means to frighten us outside, where—”

“I don’t think he’s that clever, my lord,” Turnus said, “and even if that is so, my men are outside; we will protect you.”

Lord Wong hesitated for a moment. “Very well; everyone, please make your way towards the exit; there is no need to panic.”

He might as well have commanded the winds to blow, but not too strongly; at once, the whole assembly — the guests in gowns and suits and togas and sparkling gems, the wait staff, the musicians, Councillor Emerald, Lord Wong — all began to move up the steps out of the ballroom and towards the front door in a great rush, pushing and shoving, all distance between people collapsing as everyone fought to be ahead of everyone else.

Pyrrha and Jaune were jostled by the crowd, but able to keep their feet; others were not, or might not, be so lucky. Pyrrha saw an older lady shoved down in front of her and stopped to help her up. She and Jaune held back; she felt it right that they should be the last to leave, being huntsman and huntress, and if Jaune disagreed with her, he did not say so, nor show it in any way. Rather than joining the press moving towards the door, they moved sideways along the back of the crowd, joining Lord and Lady Wong — Lord Wong’s stick slowed his progress — and little Soojin, and Arslan too.

“Do you need any help, my lord?” Pyrrha asked.

Lord Wong shook his head. “I’m fine, Lady Pyrrha, but if you could take our daughter, make sure that she doesn’t get hurt in all this madness. Calm down!” he shouted, which had as much effect as shouting at the clouds.

“Of course, my lord,” Pyrrha said. She smiled for the young girl and bent her knees and back alike so that she was closer to Soojin’s height. She held out her arms. “May I hold you?”

Lady Wong nodded eagerly. “Go with Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha kept on smiling as Soojin ran forward, and Pyrrha swept her up in her arms, holding her close, feeling the little girl's hands moving through her hair and touching her neck above her golden necklace.

“That’s right,” she said. “Hold onto me. Everything is going to be fine.”

“We can’t reach the door!” someone screamed from up ahead, at the front of the crowd.

“Let us out!”

“We’re trapped!”

“What?” Arslan demanded. “What are they saying? Pyrrha, you’re a stork; can you see what’s going on up there?”

“I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha murmured. For one thing, she was standing at a long angle, beneath those ahead, which severely limited her ability to see over their heads; for another, it was always difficult to see over a large crowd in any case. “Jaune?”

Jaune shook his head. “No, nothing.”

“Can you lift me up on your shoulders?” Arslan asked.

“Like a kid?” Jaune asked.

“I’m not asking you to give me a piggyback ride,” Arslan said. “Just let me jump on you.”

“Okay,” Jaune said, presenting his back to her and holding out his hands.

Arslan didn’t use his hands — she didn’t need the boost — she simply jumped up and put her hands on his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck as she dug her knees into Jaune’s side like he was a horse.

“Thank you,” she said. “Good thing I wore a gown with room to spread my legs. Right, what have we here?” She frowned. “The door’s blocked by a barrier, it’s … is that hard light?”

“Yes,” Lord Wong said. “We had barriers installed in case of a White Fang attack.”

“Okay,” Arslan said, “but who turned them on?”

“I don’t know,” Lord Wong replied. “I can, but I didn’t.”

“More importantly, can we turn them off?” asked Jaune.

“How, when I didn’t even know they were turned on?” snapped Lord Wong.

“What about the windows?” said Arslan, slipping down off Jaune’s back. “Can we get out through the windows?”

Lord Wong shook his head. “The barrier covers the whole building.”

“The whole building?” Pyrrha repeated.

Lord Wong nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“I’ll call Ruby,” Jaune said, getting out his scroll. His eyes widened. “No signal? Does this barrier of yours block CCT signals as well?”

“It shouldn’t,” Lord Wong murmured.

“EVERYONE CALM DOWN!” Turnus bellowed, his voice cutting through the cries of those trying futilely to escape via the door. “There is no need to panic! My men are on the other side of that barrier, and I have no doubt that as we speak they are trying to find a way to rescue us.”

“What are we going to do?” Tarpeia asked.

“I—” Ufens was cut off by the sound of his scroll buzzing. He ignored it.

“That could be the lord,” Tarpeia murmured.

“We couldn’t reach him a moment ago,” Ufens said.

“Maybe he can reach us; see if it’s him,” Tarpeia urged.

Ufens got out his scroll. “It’s Lichas.”

“Who?” asked Ruby.

“He’s guarding the entrance to the parking lot,” Ufens explained. “Maybe he can get in that way.” He answered the incessant call. “Lichas, we—”

“Are you seeing anything strange up there?” Lichas demanded. “Because first, I get run over by a cleaning van roaring out of the car park, then I go down to find that there’s some kind of barrier cutting off the way into the building, and I can’t get hold of my lord or Lausus either.”

“'A cleaning van'?” Tarpeia repeated.

“Never mind that now,” Ufens said. “Lichas, the barrier is up here too, and it’s blocking out scrolls. Get up here; we need to come up with a plan.” He snapped his scroll shut.

“Do you think there really was something or someone in there?” Ruby asked.

“I can’t think why else anyone would want to trap them inside,” Ufens muttered.

“But … don’t worry,” Tarpeia said, and it seemed like she was trying to smile reassuringly, although it didn’t come out like much of a smile, really. She put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “While everyone here wishes that they were inside instead of Lausus, my lord’s good. He’ll keep everyone safe, if there’s danger within.”

“So will Pyrrha,” Ruby replied, “but even so, I wish we could find out what was going on. I wish we could get them out of there.”

“We all wish that,” Tarpeia said, “but how? Do you think we could attack it? If we damage it enough, maybe it’ll drop?”

“Maybe,” Ufens said, “but how long would it take, and do we have time for that?”

“What about if I call General Ironwood?” Ruby suggested. “A shot from the main cannon of one of his ships should be enough to bring down that barrier, right?”

“You know General Ironwood?” Tarpeia asked.

“Uh, a little,” Ruby said.

“That probably would drop the shield,” Ufens admitted, “but what if it brings down the embassy as well?”

“Do we have a choice?” Tarpeia demanded.

“I think we should give it a second before we maybe blow up our lord and our client,” Ufens said. “Let me think.” He turned his gaze upwards, up the building, up the barrier that surrounded the building, covering it all the way to the wall that surrounded the roof.

“The roof,” Ruby murmured. “What if it doesn’t cover the roof?”

Ufens’ eyes widened. He tapped on his scroll. “Tulla?” he said. “Is there a barrier on the roof, are you standing on it?”

“There’s something covering the stairs down into the building, and something outside, but no, nothing on the roof.”

“Okay, we’re coming up,” Ufens said, hanging up and snapping his scroll shut. He nodded to Ruby. “Thank you, Ruby Rose.” He turned to Tarpeia and the other members of Rutulian Security. “Right, boys and girls, here is what we’re going to do: we’re going to break through the roof down into the embassy, and then we are going to get everybody out the same way nice and easy, and we’re going to see our lord safe home to Lady Juturna. Any questions?”

There were none, only silence and determined faces.

“Then let’s get it done,” Ufens said. “Eulalia!”

“Eulalia!” they cried, and it must have meant something to them, even though it didn’t mean anything at all to Ruby. Maybe Pyrrha would know.

Once they got her out.

Ruby thought about that ladder, that single narrow ladder and everyone who might have to climb down it, some in the choice between high heels or bare feet.

That could take a while. Unless…

And so, as the Rutulians moved towards that very same ladder, Ruby hung back and got out her scroll.

“Ruby?” Tarpeia asked.

“I’m calling Professor Ozpin,” Ruby explained. “I’ve got an idea that will speed things up.”

There was a loud bang, still loud for all that it was muffled by distance, coming from somewhere above them.

“Was that an explosion?” Arslan asked.

“It sounded like it certainly could be,” Pyrrha replied as the guests of the reception murmured and wailed in shock and alarm. “Jaune, would you mind holding Soojin for a moment?”

“I want you to hold onto me, Pyrrha,” Soojin protested, tightening her grip around Pyrrha’s neck.

“I know, I know,” Pyrrha said, in what she devoutly hoped was a reassuring tone, “but if I’m holding onto you, then I can’t protect everyone else if … if I have to.”

“You don’t have your weapons,” Arslan pointed out.

“Neither do you.”

“My weapons are on the end of my arms.”

Jaune sniffed the air. “Can … can anyone else smell that?”

“Smell what?” asked Arslan.

“It smells like … rosepetals.”

Ruby burst into the ballroom, her red cloak flying, rosepetals trailing behind her, dropping on the floor.

“Ruby!” Jaune and Pyrrha cried almost simultaneously.

“Hey guys,” Ruby said, grinning broadly.

“How did you—?” Turnus began.

“We got in through the roof,” Ruby said. “The barrier didn’t cover it up.”

“It was supposed to,” Lord Wong muttered.

“Thank your contractor they did a half-baked job,” Arslan told him.

“We’re going to get everyone out,” Ruby declared. “Everyone, just follow me!”

“Lausus, take the lead,” Turnus ordered. “Everyone, go, go! Follow her!”

Nobody needed telling twice, not even Jaune and Pyrrha — she couldn’t hang back when she had been given responsibility for Soojin Wong by her mother — they all moved forward, a river of humanity flowing in Ruby’s wake.

“I’m sorry about this, my lord, but this is no time for dignity,” Arslan said, a moment before she picked up Lord Wong in her arms, carrying him at a pace that he would never have achieved by himself, with his wife following alongside them.

They river flowed up the stairs, up several flights of stairs, climbing upwards, upwards, with some of Turnus’ men at intervals to make sure nobody got lost or wandered away from the group, moving upwards, ever upwards until they came to a landing, with several doors closed on either side of it and one open door, leading to a bedroom with a brand new hole blasted in the ceiling.

The Rutulians had made a crude ramp leading from floor to ceiling out of a bed, a chest of draws, a wardrobe at a slanted angle, and various other bits and pieces to provide a semblance of stability, and it was up that ramp, shepherded by the Rutulians, that everyone climbed, one at a time, squeezing a little through the whole in the roof — it was not especially large, although Pyrrha couldn’t blame them for fearing to blow the whole roof off or simply for not having enough dust to make a larger hole — out into the open air.

Airships buzzed all around the roof, Atlesian Skyrays, but also Bullheads as well, all of them with their side hatches open, and people — Professor Goodwitch and Doctor Oobleck aboard two of the Bullheads, and Atlesian soldiers aboard their airships, chivvying or helping people to climb aboard, filling each airship up before it began to pull away from the Mistralian embassy.

And Sunset, waiting with Ruby as Pyrrha and Jaune climbed up onto the roof.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked. “What are you—?”

“When Professor Ozpin told me that you needed airships to evacuate after you’d been trapped in here, I was hardly going to stay in our room and wait for you, was I?” Sunset demanded. She reached out and placed a hand on Pyrrha’s and Jaune’s shoulders. “Clearly, I can’t let you out of my sight.”

They got on board a waiting Bullhead, along with Soojin, Arslan, Lord and Lady Wong, along with a few others. The airship was full, everyone slightly crammed in, a forest of hands raised to clutch the bars that ran along the ceiling.

As the airship began to pull away, Jaune said, “You know what’s weird?”

“What?” Pyrrha asked.

“We didn’t get attacked or … anything really,” Jaune said. “Apparently Lord Kiro wanted to kill you, but… how? What was the point of trapping us all in the embassy if—”

The embassy exploded. Sunset raised her hands — Jaune grabbed her by the collar of her jacket in case she fell — conjuring a shield around the Bullhead as fire burst from every window in the building, as stonework shattered, as debris erupted like a mountain bursting forth when the volcano beneath roars; where a moment before had been a building, there was now a burning husk, flames ripping through the insides, the outsides falling where they had not burst outwards to litter the expertly tended grounds with debris. A pillar of flame, a beacon amidst Vale’s night sky.

“Okay,” Jaune said. “I guess now we know what the point of trapping us all in the embassy was.”

As the Valish Fire Department battled to put out the fire that was consuming the remains of the embassy — there was a row of fire trucks parked outside, with their sirens blaring, and cops keeping the gawking crowd at bay — Ruby found Turnus slumped against the wall that surrounded the grounds.

“Are … are you okay?” she asked.

Turnus did not reply for a moment. “I pride myself on running a successful organisation,” he said. “Sometimes, a job does not go entirely the way that I expect, and sometimes … sometimes, with the best will in the world and the most courageous people, things go wrong. But I have never before had a job where the client turned out to be the danger.”

“That’s not your fault,” Ruby said. “You couldn’t have known.”

“No?” Turnus asked. “He was my friend; I knew him. Or not, evidently.”

“What was his plan?” Ruby asked. “I mean, if you know…”

“He wants to become Emperor of Mistral,” Turnus explained, “and so, he planned to kill the heir to the throne, eliminating the line of Nikos, or at least its future, and he planned to kill the First Councillor of Vale to show that he had something to offer.”

“And you?”

“And me, because I wouldn’t lend him my swords to take the throne by force.”

“Right,” Ruby murmured. “I mean … honestly, that sounds kinda stupid.”

“It’s not just you; it is stupid,” Turnus replied.

“Then I don’t think you should blame yourself for not seeing this coming,” Ruby told him. “Who would have predicted … that? And besides, everyone got out safely. Nobody died.”

“But I lost the Heart of Mistral,” Turnus said.

“So?” Ruby asked. “What’s some stupid ruby compared to human lives?”

Turnus looked up at her. “That is an admirable way to look at it, perhaps,” he admitted, “but I’m not sure the Lord Steward will see things in quite the same way.”

Ruby didn’t reply to that, because she wasn’t sure that telling Turnus that if the Lord Steward didn’t agree with her then he was a callous idiot would really help. Instead, she asked, “What’s going to happen to Lord Kiro?”

“He’ll be arrested as soon as he returns to Mistral,” Turnus said, “and even if he realises just what he’s done, with warrants out for him across Remnant, I’m afraid there’s really no escape for him now.”

Doctor Watts opened the doors of the van.

The corpse of Lord Elagabalus Kiro confronted him, lifeless eyes staring upwards, a look of shock fixed upon his face.

“You might have closed his eyes,” he murmured.

“My apologies, Doctor,” Tempest replied, bowing her head as she closed his eyes with one hand.

“He didn’t give you any trouble, I suppose.”

“Of course not, Doctor.”

“What now, Doctor?” Bon Bon asked, climbing out of the driver’s seat.

“Dispose of this vehicle and the body,” Doctor Watts said. “I recommend incinerating them both. And then you both return to school as though nothing happened, or at least, nothing involving the two of you. Now, he did have the jewel, did he not?”

“Here,” Tempest said, holding out a very well-carved wooden box that Doctor Watts took from her hands. “And now, Doctor? Where will you go?”

“I,” Doctor Watts said, “will make haste to Mistral and deliver this precious gem into the right hands.”

Poisoned Gift (New)

Poisoned Gift

Juturna settled in at Camilla’s side, wriggling a little on the settee as she leaned against her, as though she were trying to burrow in.

Camilla placed one arm around her, squeezing her reassuringly, making the leather of Juturna’s jacket crumple and squeak.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Juturna was silent for a moment. “Is he … is he going to be okay?”

Camilla didn’t need to ask what this was about. This business with Lord Kiro … it had them all worried, including Turnus himself, as he had made clear on his last call, informing them that he was coming home.

The return of the Heart of Mistral was of great symbolic importance; it was a victory, long delayed, over the Valish; the fact that it had been obtained through a sort of blackmail was … actually, it was of great importance, because it added to the sense of victory: Mistral, the defeated, now had victorious Vale over a barrel and could dictate terms to them, at least in a symbolic sense.

You could not call something ‘the Heart of Mistral’ without it acquiring a degree of outsize importance compared to what it was: there were other jewels mined from the mountain; there were those that were worth more; probably, there were some that were larger too, although there were probably not any comparable rubies. And yet, despite the fact that it was just a jewel, just a ruby, by virtue of its name, it had become something more. It was … it was the Heart of Mistral, dug out of the rock of the mountain itself, a treasure of the Emperors, a treasure graciously bestowed upon his most beloved daughter upon her wedding day, a treasure lost in the greatest battle in recorded history. Lost in the battle where Mistral’s pride and honour had perished, withering in the flames.

When the dust had settled upon the field of Four Sovereigns, the Emperor of Mistral had laid down his crown and renounced the imperial dignity; many great heroes like Achates Kommenos had lost their lives, their like not to be seen in Mistral again; and the Heart of Mistral had been lost, plucked from the corpse of he who had borne it as though they had cut the heart out of his chest.

The fact that, in Mistral, it was not uncommon to preserve the hearts of particularly noted or accomplished ancestors — the heart of old Lord Rutulus, the heart which had welcomed Camilla into his family, was kept in an urn down in the family crypt, even as the rest of the old lord had been cremated and his ashes given to the wind — only added to the symbolism of the thing.

And so, for that reason, to have recovered the Heart … it may have been only a gemstone to the Valish, but to Mistral, it was something far more, the recovery of a little bit of that which had been lost in the Great War, when so much of Mistral’s chivalry had been cut down like wheat before the harvest scythe and sickle.

But now the Heart was lost, and although it was not Turnus’ fault, he considered it his fault.

More importantly, perhaps, he feared that he would take the blame.

Camilla could understand his fear, unfair though it was; it was Lord Kiro’s fault, he was the one who had decided to abscond with the Heart — and attempt to murder Turnus, and Lady Pyrrha besides — but he was gone, missing; no one knew where he or the Heart could be found. And so there was at least a chance that public opinion, heedless and quick to anger, would turn on Turnus for his failure to bring the Heart of Mistral home.

And that was to say nothing of the reaction of the Steward and the Council.

“I … I don’t know,” she admitted. “Turnus’ reputation, and that of Rutulian Security, may suffer; it would not surprise me, unfair though it is, if certain work dries up in the aftermath of this.” I wouldn’t expect to be invited back to this year’s FanFight Expo, for instance. “But there are those who will remember the good work that Turnus has done — Countess Coloratura, for instance. We will not be completely out of work.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Juturna said.

“I fear that, for Turnus, it would be quite bad enough,” Camilla murmured, for he was a proud man; a man who, without his pride, would not be himself.

A man whom, if he were not a proud man, she would not love quite as she did.

“Yeah, but…” Juturna trailed off for a second. “I mean, it could be worse, right?” She looked up, her blue eyes seeming especially large today. “Or could it actually be worse, and you’re just not telling me because you don’t think I can handle it.”

“I would not want to alarm you unduly,” Camilla murmured.

Juturna pouted. “Come on, spit it out.”

Camilla hesitated for a moment. “There is … also the social aspect to consider, as much as the business one. The reputation of the company, Turnus’ own reputation, the reputation of this family, they … they are all one and the same, in many ways.”

“Yeah, but if Turnus cared about his reputation that much, he would have—” Juturna’s words came to a sudden and abrupt halt. “I mean, um, that he would … you know what, it doesn’t matter, let’s—”

“Were you about to suggest that if your brother cared about his reputation, then he wouldn’t keep me in the house?” Camilla suggested.

“Not in a bad way,” Juturna insisted. “Just, like, some people think it’s odd, and some of them even say so, but big bro doesn’t care. Or he does care, and he kills them, but either way, the point is that you're still here, and just so you know, to be absolutely clear, you are absolutely worth losing the good opinion of some jackasses who can’t see how good you are.”

“That is very kind of you,” Camilla said, “and believe me, I am … I am not unaware of the sacrifices that your brother and your father made for my sake in terms of reputation and standing in the eyes of their peers. I can only hope that through my actions, I prove myself worthy of such—”

“Are you kidding, you already—”

“But I fear that we are talking about even worse now,” Camilla said. A frown creased her features. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were disinvited to Yan Ming’s birthday party.”

Juturna snorted. “I didn’t want to go to that anyway. Yan Ming is really up herself. Just because her mom is on the Council, she acts like she’s better than me. And who are the Mings, anyway? They’ve only been noble for like five minutes or something. And I hate her boyfriend too.” She paused. “I also hate the fact that she has a boyfriend. Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Oh, yeah, it’s because the two of you scare everyone away.”

Camilla didn’t respond to that. Rather, she said, “The point is … this will damage Turnus’ standing socially as well as financially. I fear it will, and I think he fears it will also. This is—”

“Really unfair?” Juturna suggested. “I mean it’s not like it was his fault.”

“Indeed not,” Camilla replied. “How was anyone to know that our client, scion of an old noble family, would attempt such wretched and dishonourable deeds? What was Turnus supposed to do to guard against the man who had engaged him for his protection? And yet, the world can be cruel and unkind, and its judgements based not on evidence so much as on how much that judgement will enable people to feel smug and superior about their pre-existing prejudices and preconceptions. I am afraid that people who disliked Turnus, or disliked Rutulian Security, or wanted your brother brought low will seize on this evidence as reason to confirm that they were right all along.”

“You mean like with Pyrrha?” Juturna asked. “I mean … would it sound awful if I said I’d like to believe all the things that they’re saying about her were true, that she was working with that … what was her name, Ash?”

“Cinder,” Camilla said. “Cinder Fall.” She paused for a moment. “I met her. She joined us on the Karkadann hunt. I wonder if I should have known that there was something amiss with her. She was … a little odd.”

“Lots of people are odd, or get called odd,” Juturna said. “It doesn’t make them evil.”

“But you would believe the worst of Lady Pyrrha?” Camilla asked.

“I mean, I’d like to, yeah,” Juturna replied. “I mean, come on, she’s insufferable! Perfect Lady Pyrrha, the size of a giraffe and so pretty with that bright red hair, and everyone thinks that she’s so marvellous and so talented, and the worst part is that she really is that talented and that pretty, and she has a boyfriend, and she’s only a year older than I am, and everything is perfect in her perfect little life, and it’s absolutely infuriating! I mean, wouldn’t you love it if she turned out to be evil so that you could hate her without having to feel bad about it?”

“No,” Camilla said flatly.

“That’s because you’re too nice,” Juturna grumbled. “You’d be infuriating yourself if you weren’t … so nice.”

“Thank you, I think,” Camilla said.

“The point is,” Juturna went on, “that she’s just too good, at everything! It’s really annoying! How are you not annoyed by it?”

“Perhaps because I don’t see myself as being in competition with Lady Pyrrha,” Camilla said softly.

“Maybe you should,” Juturna muttered. “The point is, if I could think that she was actually this terrible person and I could hate her with good cause, that would be great for me.”

“But you don’t believe it?” asked Camilla.

“Nah,” Juturna said. “She’s too perfect to be evil, I think. And besides, you said that fight looked real, not faked.”

“I think you would have to be very bold to risk death staging such a combat,” Camilla said. “Especially the way it ended. And, in any case, I do not believe that Lady Pyrrha has designs against Mistral. She does not strike me as the type. But, as you have just proven, there are those who are…”

Juturna smiled. “You can say it. I won’t be mad.”

“Who are driven by envy,” Camilla said quietly, and sighed after she said it. “Juturna, I’m not sure it’s very good for you to feel that way.”

“Why not?”

“Because envy feeds on the soul,” Camilla said. “Like a caterpillar on a leaf, or worse. It corrupts and devours.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Camilla replied.

Juturna fell silent, her big blue eyes blinking rapidly. “You … you know?”

“Did you think that I do not feel envy?” Camilla asked. “Do you think that I am so inhuman, so made of marble, so … so good as gold that I do not feel jealousy of her, of the way that Turnus … desires her. Yes, for her name, for her family wealth, for political and social advantages, but also … also for how beautiful, how graceful and elegant in motion — even on the battlefield, where grace is married with beautiful deadliness as puts to mind a leopard on the hunt — how vivid green her eyes, how red her hair. How her complexion is fair but not colourless … not pasty pale as mine.”

“Hey,” Juturna said, squirming where she sat, twisting her whole body around so that instead of leaning into Camilla by the shoulder, she was instead resting on her belly, body squashed against Camilla’s side like she were some kind of climbing rodent and Camilla were the tree. “Hey,” she repeated. “There is nothing pasty or colourless about your complexion, girl; you are … you’re like a winter morning, and … and green eyes suck anyway, who cares? Ugh. You … you’re beautiful.”

A smile pricked at the corners of Camilla’s lips. “You are very kind,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, you’re also not the one I want to impress.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Juturna insisted. “It might take him awhile, but he’ll get there in the end.” She grinned. “Hey, if he does get shunned by everyone, he’ll be spending more time in the house with you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Come on, we have to look on the bright side, right?” Juturna asked. “Do you really think that all of that stuff will happen?”

“I think…” Camilla trailed off. “You thought you had distracted me from talking about your envy, didn’t you?”

“It is the least interesting thing we could be talking about,” Juturna declared. “But, if you insist … how did you deal with it?”

“By reminding myself that Turnus’ happiness is dearer to me than my own,” Camilla said, “and by reminding myself that if you really care about someone, then you would rather they were happy with another than unhappy with you.”

“As I said,” Juturna replied. “Far, far too nice.”

“Mmm,” Camilla murmured. “Perhaps … perhaps if you found … if you found something—”

“Are you telling me to get a job?”

“Or a hobby?” Camilla suggested weakly.

“I have hobbies!” Juturna cried vehemently.

“You don’t…” Camilla searched for a kind way of saying ‘you don’t put a lot of effort into any of them’ and found none. Therefore, she decided to drop the subject. It wasn’t her place to talk to Juturna like this in any case, not after all that the Rutulus family had done for her.

Not her place at all, but she might mention it to Turnus when he returned.

Assuming that he didn’t have enough other things on his mind. She didn’t want to burden him unnecessarily.

“I suppose the point is,” she said, “that there are those, driven by envy, who will take any excuse to attack Turnus.”

Lord Thrax was said to be paranoid of his position, fearful of losing it; it was one reason why Turnus had never outfitted Rutulian Security with a full range of Atlesian toys. They had once talked about buying a spider droid or two — Turnus had preferred the short-range cannon variants for direct fire, but Camilla might have welcomed a howitzer or missile variant for longer range support — but in the end, Turnus had decided that such weapons would be seen as too dangerous in private hands and might draw a response from the Council. It was a line that all private security and mercenary groups walked, in this kingdom without an army. Camilla doubted that they were regarded with such suspicion in Atlas, or even in Vale, where the council had a firm hand on the monopoly of violence, but in Mistral … in Mistral, a paradox prevailed wherein independent groups flourished in the absence of central power, but at the same time, central authority looked at those independent groups askance and with suspicion.

Now that Mistral was raising an army and making a navy, that might change. As Mistral’s own forces grew, so might the scope for groups like the Rutulians to arm themselves without seeming dangerous.

That was why they were keeping a couple of Paladins and a spider droid bought from Atlas hidden in a shed rather than turning them over to the authorities, waiting in the hope that they could be revealed some day.

Although with the Paladins, they were meeting the difficulty that nobody really wanted to learn to pilot them. Nobody wanted to be known as the person hiding in an armoured shell while their comrades risked their lives; nobody wanted what was seen as an unglamourous job; these were Mistralians, after all.

Camilla glanced down at Juturna, who had resumed lying on her back against her side. “Juturna?” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Would you…?” Camilla hesitated.

She should probably discuss this with Turnus first. He would be justifiably wroth with her if he found out that she had discussed this behind his back. Now, he had never been angry with her, in the time that she had been here, but that was in part because she’d never done anything to make him angry, but this would give him cause for anger, if anything would.

But … Juturna had shown some interest in going into the field at times. She had even accompanied them on rare occasions. Not often, admittedly, but that was because it was dangerous. It might be less dangerous in the cockpit of an Atlesian war machine.

And before she was ready to take it out into battle, learning how to operate the machine to its fullest potential would give her something to do.

Something she might even find cool.

It was something to suggest to Turnus, in any case.

“Camilla?” Juturna prompted.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Camilla said, because this wasn’t something to be raised without Turnus’ knowledge. “The point is … the point is that I think that may get a little rough in the near future.”

There was a knock on the door into the sitting room.

Camilla looked over her shoulder and over the back of the settee, looking at the red door behind them. “Yes?”

The door opened, and Gyas folded and unfolded himself through the doorway. There were a few large men, tall or powerfully built men, in Rutulian Security — Turnus himself was one such — but Gyas was a particularly large man even by those standards, so much so that it took some effort on his part to fit through the door and into the room, and his head came very close indeed to touching the ceiling when he had done so.

“There’s someone at the door to see Lady Juturna,” he said, his voice a bass rumble. “Says that he’s been here before. Says his name is Watts.”

“'Watts'?” Juturna repeated, scrambling up the sofa so that she could be seen over it. “Doctor Watts? Skinny guy with a moustache?”

Gyas nodded. “Looks so thin I could snap him in half with one hand.”

Perhaps it would be as well if you did, Camilla thought, recalling what Opis had told her and Turnus about his last visit, about all the unwise things that Juturna had told him. Why had he come back? What did he want now?

She was tempted to tell Gyas to go back and tell this doctor to go away and never darken their door again, but if he had come for some dark purpose — blackmail, perhaps — then she would rather hear it in the house than hear he had gone spreading word of Juturna’s foolish thoughts to other ears.

After all, in the house, I can have him killed, if need be.

Camilla did not consider herself to be an unkind woman; Juturna had called her too nice, and though it was not intended as a compliment, Camilla took it as one. She did not feel it either shame or crime to practice kindness; after all, she had needed a great deal of kindness herself in her life.

Kindness that had been done to her by the Rutulus family, from the old lord who had taken her into his home, to Turnus who had made her his right hand, who listened to the council of a faunus girl above men of lordly family like Lausus or Mezentius, seasoned huntsmen like Ufens or Messapus.

This was her home, and she would defend it if she had to, and the men of Rutulian Security were as loyal to her as to Turnus himself; they would obey any order that she gave them, faunus though she was.

She could kill a man here, and with the help of her men, no one would ever know that she had done it; certainly, she could kill an Atlesian doctor who would not be missed in Mistral.

Camilla removed her arm from around Juturna and got to her feet. She did not have Diana’s Devotion with her, but she was wearing Valeria Victrix at her hip. Her hand strayed towards it for a moment.

“Send him in, Gyas,” Camilla said. “I will receive him here.”

He did not question her on that or remind her that Doctor Watts was here to see Juturna. Achates had allowed this stranger into Juturna’s presence, but Camilla having declared that she would keep the gate, none would question the decision.

Gyas bowed his head. “As you say, ma’am.” He turned and folded himself through the door as awkwardly as he had come through just a moment earlier.

“You know,” Juturna said, “he said that he wanted to see me, not you.”

“Yes, I heard,” Camilla said. “Just as I heard Opis' account of what you said the last time he visited.”

“You’re not still upset about that, are you?”

“I am not upset,” Camilla replied, turning to face her. “I am concerned. You said too much, and now he is back. Why? I don’t know, and I do not like not knowing.”

“So why let him in?”

So I can have Gyas snap him in half if need be. “So that I can know why he is here,” she said.

“Okay,” Juturna said quietly. “Are you going to kick me out?”

I probably should. But then … if I am here, I can prevent any harm being done. “No,” she said, “you can stay, if you wish.”

“I do,” Juturna said. “You’ll see for yourself; he’s a pretty great guy. Talking to him was like going to therapy.”

“Really?” Camilla murmured. “Have you considered—?”

“No, I’m not going to actually go to therapy,” Juturna declared. “That stuff’s for losers.”

Camilla sighed. “And he didn’t say what he wanted when he was here last?”

Juturna shook his head. “No. We just … talked.”

Camilla frowned slightly, then made an effort to remove it from her face. She needed to present a calm aspect, not hostile, until or unless Doctor Watts gave her cause for hostility.

The door opened again, and this time, a man whom Camilla could only assume to be Doctor Watts walked in, tall and thin, just as Opis had described him, in a slightly shabby suit that made look like a salesman fallen on hard times. He had a black bag in one hand, so that he looked as though he might have been making a house call to a sick patient — or trying to sell a vacuum cleaner.

“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Doctor Arthur Watts?” Camilla asked as the door was closed behind him.

Doctor Watts offered her a courtly bow, bending his back at a forty-five degree angle. “Indeed, although I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your name, Lady—”

“Miss Camilla Volsci,” Camilla declared. “I have the honour to be second to Lord Rutulus.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Volsci,” Doctor Watts said, with that sharp smile that Opis had described appearing underneath his moustache. “And of course, it’s wonderful to see you again, Lady Juturna.”

“Hey, Doc,” Juturna said cheerily. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, my dear,” Doctor Watts said, putting his bag down on a round wooden table, “but as I was in the area, I thought that I’d drop by to give you a little gift.”

He opened his bag up and removed from it a carved wooden casket, small but very well made, with images of warriors in ancient panoply of war carved into the wood in bas-relief, walking around all four sides of the box, as best Camilla could tell.

“Is it the box, or is there something in it?” Juturna asked.

Doctor Watts chuckled softly as he opened the box.

Camilla’s eyes widened, and she could not restrain the gasp that leapt out of her. There, in the box, was a great ruby, a ruby of staggering redness, of exquisite cut, that sparkled in the light coming in from the sitting room windows.

A ruby that looked sharper than diamonds and redder than blood.

“Is that…?” Juturna scrambled over the sofa, walking slowly towards the ruby, both hands held out towards it a little and yet not quite reaching for it. “Is that…?” Her voice dropped, becoming very quiet, almost a whisper. “Is that the Heart of Mistral?”

“I should certainly hope so; I would hate to give you a fake,” Doctor Watts said genially. “For what it’s worth, a great many people believed in the provenance.”

Juturna looked from the ruby to the doctor and then back again, an act she repeated several times, her head flicking back and forth, her hair flipping around her, blue streaks glowing. “You … you … how did you—?”

“Yes, how,” Camilla said, striding forward, placing herself between Doctor Watts and Juturna. “How did you come by this, Doctor, when the last report of it was it being stolen by Lord Kiro?”

Doctor Watts’ smile remained upon his face. “I came across Lord Kiro and the Heart, and he was in such a state that he wasn’t going to need it anymore, so I thought that I would—”

“'Give it to us'?” Camilla said. “Or by ‘gift’ did you mean ‘sell’?”

“Not at all,” Doctor Watts said. “A gift is a gift, just as I said.”

Camilla’s eyes narrowed. “This ruby is priceless,” she said. “You could have sold it to the Steward, to any noble family, and yet, you give it to us freely?”

“I imagine it will spare Lord Rutulus a considerable amount of embarrassment,” Doctor Watts murmured.

“It will,” Juturna said. “It absolutely will. Tha—”

“And what do you get in return for your generosity, Doctor Watts?” Camilla demanded. “What is your price?”

“No price,” Doctor Watts said. “No price at all, except that you should think well of me in future.”

“And remember the debt we owe you should you be in need of it,” Camilla said.

“You said that, Miss Volsci, not me.”

“Camilla,” Juturna said, placing one hand upon her arm from behind her. “Come on, why are you acting like this? This is a good thing! This is great!”

Is it? Camilla thought. Is it really? No doubt it seemed so to Juturna, a girl who received gifts very often and thought little of it, but Camilla … no doubt Doctor Watts wished to curry favour with the Rutulus family; that was not surprising, nor was it, in itself, malign. Plenty of people wished to curry favour with the noble families of Mistral, to profit by their wealth and status or simply to better their own conditions somewhat. It was a fact of life. It was how business was done here in Mistral.

But this … the Heart of Mistral? And so vague in his description of how he had come by it. It was not right. It did not sit right with her. Some gifts were poisoned, and this gift … Lord Kiro had stolen the Heart, declared his intention to become Emperor of Mistral, and then … what? An Atlesian doctor turns up on their door with the Heart in his possession? And what of Lord Kiro? The implication of Doctor Watts’ words was that he was dead, but he had not said so out loud, nor explained the manner of his death.

No, he had just come here with the Heart of Mistral, which he was giving to them for nothing.

Nothing except that they should think well of him.

It stank to the skies.

Shut the box, thrust it back at him, and bid him go. Tell him that we want no part in this.

And condemn Turnus to be regarded as a failure, to be shunned, ostracised, our clients abandoned us, everything that he has tried to build torn down, his reputation in tatters?

Make a failure of him because I am afraid?

“My lord, I swear by the wind and the sea and the sky, by Seraphis and Tithys, by Eulalia, Loud of the War-Cry and bearer of the Aegis, I swear, my lord, that I will never forget your kindness to me, nor cease to repay the debt I owe you.”

She had spoken those words over the body of old Lord Rutulus, as he had lain in state, waiting for his son and heir to return from Atlas before he could be given the funeral rites. She had spoken those words to a man who had given her everything: a home, a family, a purpose, a future. She had spoken those words, and in the speaking, bound herself unto this family, unto their cause.

And when Turnus returned, she had pledged herself to him also, to the living man as to the dead.

“I pledge myself into the service of Turnus Rutulus, that I will guard your back and keep your council. I swear it by Seraphis, the Lord of the Skies; by Tithys, the Master of the Waves; and by Erechthonius of the Earth, whose embrace alone shall mark the end of duty. My sword is yours, as thine honour be mine.”

My sword is yours, as thine honour be mine. And yet, she would allow Turnus’ honour to be tarnished, his standing diminished in the eyes of his peers and of all of Mistral, if she refused this gift now.

If she turned Doctor Watts away, if she slammed shut the box … then all the consequences would be her doing. She would be the one who damaged Turnus, who enabled him to be scorned, shunned, slandered, weakened.

It would be her doing, and hers alone, because she could have prevented it by acceptance of this gift.

This stinking, poisoned gift.

This means by which all unearned consequence may be avoided.

Had Juturna not been there, she would have accepted and borne the consequence, but Juturna…

It would be a fine way of honouring old Lord Rutulus if she allowed his precious daughter to come to harm.

“Camilla,” Juturna urged. “Come on, this is awesome! Turnus can give the jewel to the Steward, and nobody even needs to know that he didn’t bring it with him from Vale! It’s not like Lausus or Ufens is going to say different!”

Camilla glanced briefly over her shoulder at Juturna, smiling up at her, beaming excitedly. She returned her gaze to Doctor Watts, wishing that she could see what lay behind that smiling face.

Who are you, Doctor? What do you want?

Juturna closed the box. “Thank you, Doctor. You’ve helped us out a whole lot.”

“Juturna,” Camilla murmured.

“What?” Juturna asked. “Were you really going to not take it? We need this! Turnus needs this; you said it yourself: without it, he won’t be able to hold his head up high anymore, and he’ll hate that.”

That was true. What was also true, although little remarked upon, was that Juturna was the lady of the Rutulus family, Turnus having no wife. She was Lady Juturna, while Camilla was simply a retainer, a member of Turnus’ household, if a trusted and a privileged one.

If she wanted this, if she wanted to accept this, then what power had Camilla to deny it to her?

Or is that just the excuse that I’m using to avoid making a decision?

I am making a decision. I am deciding not to argue with Juturna, and I am deciding to allow Turnus’ reputation to be saved.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “It is exactly as you say.” She turned back to Doctor Watts and said, “Thank you, Doctor. The House of Rutulus owes you a debt of gratitude. One I hope we can repay sooner than late.”

Doctor Watts chuckled. “No need to hurry,” he said. “Debts of gratitude don’t accrue interest, after all.”

Nevertheless, I would have this family out of your debt swiftly, Camilla thought. “May I offer you some refreshment, Doctor? Tea, or something stronger? A light snack? If you are planning to stay here in Mistral awhile, you may find our hospitality superior to any hotel.”

“A generous offer,” Doctor Watts said, “but one I must decline. My journey continues; I do not have the luxury of resting here. In fact, my errand accomplished, I will take my leave of you now, Miss Volsci.” He raised his hand to his forelock. “Lady Juturna.”

Juturna brushed past Camilla, rushing towards Doctor Watts before Camilla could stop her, leaping up and flinging her arms around his neck, her legs dangling in the air as she hung off the taller man. “Thank you, Doctor Watts.”

Doctor Watts did not return the embrace, although he did not look particularly uncomfortable with it either. Although Camilla could concede that that might have been her suspicion talking. With one hand, he patted her on the side briefly. “Quite alright, my dear. Quite alright.”

Juturna let go of him, dropping back to the floor and taking a step back. “Come again soon!” she said. “Especially if you bring more presents.”

Doctor Watts kept on smiling, but said nothing else as he turned away and began to walk towards the door.

“Gyas,” Camilla called.

The door opened, and Gyas looked in. “Yes?”

“Show Doctor Watts out,” Camilla instructed.

Gyas nodded. “As you say.”

As Doctor Watts took his leave of them, Camilla took comfort in the presence of so many men, and so many swords, arrayed about the Rutulus family. What could one Atlesian doctor possibly do to harm them?

The Heart of Mistral was staying in Juturna’s room until Turnus returned.

She kind of wished that she could keep it, to be honest; it would look good as a necklace or something.

But no, this was for her brother; this was to let him keep his reputation and his honour. This was to help him out, or at least stop him getting into any trouble.

Still, it was cool that she got to keep it for a little bit, until he came back. It reminded her of when she was a kid, when she’d played at being a princess.

She was a princess, kind of, in some ways, but not the kind of princess who got to wear stuff like this all the time. That was all in the past now.

Kind of a pity, if you asked her.

Juturna sat at her dressing table, looking down at the ruby where it lay in its box. It looked so beautiful. She had jewellery, inherited from her mother — it was in the jewellery box just over there — but none of it was like this. This … this was something else. No wonder it had its own special name, and everyone wanted it.

Juturna reached into the box and plucked out the ruby, meaning to hold it up to the light where she was sure it would look even better than before.

But inside the box, hidden underneath the ruby, was a little piece of paper, small enough to have been hidden beneath the ruby, with a number scrawled on it.

A number and the words ‘I’d like to hear from you.’

Juturna put the ruby down — on the table, not on the piece of paper — and took the little paper scrap between her fingers.

She stared at it for a moment. He wanted to hear from her? She had no doubt in her mind who he was, and he … he wanted to hear from her?

That was … surprising, honestly.

Nice of him, but surprising.

And talking to him had been very … very easy. Things had just seemed to come rolling out of her, and she’d even felt better after saying them.

She picked up her scroll, opened it up, and began to text to the number on the paper.

Doctor Watts?

The very same. I assume that I have the pleasure of speaking to Lady Juturna Rutulus?

That’s me. I was surprised to find you’d left your number.

As my note says, I was hoping to hear from you.

But why?

Because I represent someone who is interested in making a great change to the world of Remnant, and we are always keen to meet someone who shares our view that the current status quo is less than ideal. You spoke of wanting to put your brother on the throne.

Sort of, I guess. I told you that’s what he wanted.

And you want to see him happy, don’t you?

Yeah. Yeah I do. I’d do anything to make that happen.

And I think that we may be able to help with that.

Juturna blinked. You can? But how? Who are you?

What’s your favourite fairytale?

Look Down (New)

Look Down

In Atlas, prison cells had — with exceptions, for prisoners like the hacking thief recently brought to justice by Rainbow Dash and Blake — moved from metal bars to walls of hard-light powered by dust, but in Mantle, at least in the rear areas of this particular Mantle police precinct, the cell door was still a row of cold, grey metal bars, a design almost as old as civilisation itself.

On the wrong side of the bars, sitting with her legs spread wide open on a narrow bench backing against the wall, sat Neon Katt.

"Hey," she said.

"'Hey'?" Ciel repeated. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

"No, I've got plenty to say for myself; I just thought I'd start with a 'hey,'" Neon replied. She grinned. "You know, if you were really my friend, you'd be in here with me instead of on the other side of that door."

Ciel didn't deign to dignify that with a response. She folded her arms. "Dare I ask?"

"I saw some cops breaking up a protest in support of the strike, outside the technical college," Neon said, "and I thought to myself 'those cops don't look like they need any help, but those kids sure do.'"

"And that's why you were arrested for assaulting a police officer," Ciel said, her voice as flat as a well-maintained road.

"Considering that no less than four cops pinned me to the ground and knelt on top of me — including one on my neck, if you please — I think I have a pretty good claim to be the real victim here," Neon said. She leaned forwards. "The law doesn't arbitrate good and evil: just because something is legal doesn't make it right; just because something is illegal—"

"Does not make it wrong, yes; I am aware," Ciel murmured, thinking about Penny and her situation and the way in which Ciel had allowed herself to be complicit in a grave injustice. The very thought of it made her shiver. I can only hope that my regret is sufficient to constitute repentance. "Even so, attacking the police—"

"Who were attacking unarmed protesters," Neon said. "Kids our age, Florentin's age, with placards and voices, and the cops were laying into them with batons and gas—"

"'Gas'? Ciel repeated incredulously.

"You don't think they would have got me without gas, do you?" Neon asked. "I yelled at the kids to run, and then I held off the cops until I couldn't breathe any more, couldn't see because of the stinging in my eyes; that's when they brought me down."

"Are you alright?" Ciel asked. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"No," Neon admitted. "But I feel better." She coughed, although it was hard to tell — even after Ciel's long acquaintance with Neon — if she was really coughing or pretending to in order to make light of the situation. Neon leaned forwards, her knees resting on her legs. "As huntsmen, we have a responsibility to protect the weak and the powerless. As a follower of the Lady, I am instructed to follow the tenets of our faith—"

"I am not sure what the Lady has to say about strikes," Ciel pointed out.

"The Lady has a few things to say about slavery," Neon replied. "Ciel, I love you, but you cannot make me feel bad about this. Just because I'm in a cell doesn't mean that I didn't do what was right."

"'And they who believeth in me, though they be cast into a bondsman's cell, shall enjoy the liberty of heaven,'" Ciel whispered. She paused for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I'm not here to rebuke you. In truth…"

She trailed off, her sense of obedience to the law and to the lawful authorities warring in her heart with Neon's call to a higher, more natural justice.

In many ways, this was all the fault of Blake and Rainbow Dash, although one might not, indeed one ought not, to call it fault. The glory of Blake and Rainbow Dash might be a more apt descriptor, the latest glory in a series of glories that had crowned Blake's brow like Mistralian laurels and rendered her resplendent.

The latest exploit in which they both had shared had been, of course, the assault they had made upon the Schnee Dust Company, the revelation of Calliope Ferny's … some, including Neon just now, called it slavery; others called it a trafficking ring; the mildest word for it was 'exploitation.' Distant mines had been raided, faunus rescued, and now, some of those faunus were returning to Mantle with their bodies — sometimes even their faces — branded with the letters 'SDC,' and tales of their harsh treatment, going back years in some cases, upon their tongues.

The effect in Mantle — the effect upon Mantle — had been electric. For a start — and this was by far the most minor impact of their actions — it had made celebrities of Blake and Rainbow Dash; it no longer mattered that Blake was a Menagerie-born transplant or that Rainbow Dash embodied every negative stereotype of the Atlesian officer who could not look at Mantle without their lip curling into a sneer; had they returned here, there wasn't a bar in the city where they wouldn't have been stood a round on the house — if they'd been old enough to drink, anyway. Long black wigs, and wigs in all the iridescent colours of the rainbow, were now a common sight in toy and novelty shops; Ciel herself had made a pair of blue cardboard ears and stuck them onto an old hairband for Alain to go along with his rainbow wig. Meanwhile, Father Gregory had asked Ciel if she could get one — or better both — of the new heroes to put in an appearance at the church fete to help raise money for the food bank, since it would be an even bigger draw than the tombola prizes.

Ciel had told him she would consider it; she knew that she really ought to ask them both — it was for a good cause, after all — but the thought of how insufferable Rainbow Dash might be about it was almost enough to make her recoil from the notion.

In any case, the effect upon Rainbow and Blake's personal popularity was, however meteoric, rather a secondary concern. The main effect of their actions, of the revelations they had brought to light and of those they had liberated coming home to Mantle, was to stir the city out of grim despondency and rouse it to outrage, even fury.

There were limits, it seemed, to what this city would tolerate.

The employees of the SDC had been the first to go on strike. They had no union — efforts to create one had always failed — nevertheless, they had voted — by a simple show of hands in the yard, admittedly — to down tools and then proceeded to do just that. The wholesalers had closed, the refineries had fallen silent, the picket lines had sprouted up as from out of the rock and stone. That would have been quite enough, but the railwaymen, the bus drivers, the firefighters, even the nurses and the teachers had walked out in sympathy with the miners.

Sympathy strikes were as illegal as wildcat strikes, but — as Neon and Penny had both separately pointed out for Ciel — just because something was against the law did not make it immoral. And besides, there came a certain point when the number of people breaking the law approached or surpassed the number of people obeying it, and law itself became something farcical and worthy of mockery.

Ciel thought — feared, perhaps — that they might have passed that point already; at any rate, it could not be far off.

It felt like anarchy; on every street corner, it seemed that there was some new demonstration — a picket line here, a protest there, a rally by Hanlon Fifestone in the middle of the street — some of which ended up clashing with the police and the garrison; the news had managed to find a few people who did not want to strike, but who felt unable to go to work or who had suffered the consequences for trying. And yet, at the same time, could she really say that they did not have cause? The mask had fallen from the SDC, and a savage face stood revealed behind it.

A savage face … or a branded one.

If people had had enough, could they be blamed? If people wanted justice, was that wrong? If people only wanted to use the outrage to advance their own positions, then did their positions not deserve advancement?

Could these actions really be condemned, on moral rather than strictly legalistic grounds?

"People all over Remnant require dust," she said. "It is the lifeblood of our world."

"Then people all over Remnant can push the SDC to settle the strike," Neon retorted.

Well … quite. To condemn the strike as causing disruption was to ignore not only the fact that disruption was the entire point, but also that Jacques Schnee could bring an end to all of his disruption simply by agreeing to the demands of the strikers.

"They're not even asking for anything unreasonable," Neon went on. "At least, I don't think so, anyway: SDC Security disbanded, workers' representatives on the board, an end to wage garnishment, and improvements to working conditions. I don't see anything wrong with any of that." She got up and started pacing back and forth in her cell, swinging her arms like a pair of pendulums. "What they've done … what Dashie and Blake found, it's wrong, Ciel; it's evil." She looked at Ciel. "You get that, right?"

"Of course," Ciel said. "Those responsible have been arrested—"

"And now we want to reckon with the system that let it happen."

"'We'?" Ciel asked.

"I'm from Mantle," Neon reminded her. "And so are you, for that matter."

"I am aware of that."

"Then answer me this," Neon said, "when did this city last feel so alive as it does now, so full of purpose as it does now? Mantle has been on the down for years, and people have been just letting it happen — you only have to walk the streets to see that — but now? Go out now and then come back and tell me that Mantle is in decline. Tell me that people are lying down and taking it without a fight. I don't recognise this as the city that let old Mrs. Peterson die alone and didn't care to catch the guy who did it; this is…" — she slammed her fist into her other open palm — "this is a city that's gotten up off the floor and put up its hands for a few more rounds. I think this might be the best thing that could have happened to Mantle. Which is ironic, considering it was Dashie who did all this."

Ciel snorted. “I wonder how much she would appreciate that.” She paused. “I must admit, there does appear to be more … it is a small thing, but I saw people cleaning their windows on my way here.”

Neon nodded. “I think that if we win this fight, there’s going to be a lot more pride in Mantle than there was before.”

“The way you say 'we' makes you sound like Robyn Hill,” Ciel murmured.

“No, I’m not,” Neon replied. “If I were sounding like Robyn Hill, I’d be ranting and raving about how awful Atlas is for keeping us down. I’m from Atlas, but I’m also from Mantle, and I’m also a faunus. I contain multitudes. The point is that all this has given Mantle something to fight for, and fighting has given Mantle something to believe in.”

“Or at least a reason to believe in itself,” Ciel suggested.

“Like I said, this isn’t the city where an old woman was left to die,” Neon said. “This, now, this is the city where everyone came together to fight for what was right because they understand we only win when we stick together. Which is kind of the most Atlesian sentiment they could have, really. The power of sheer numbers. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“About the power of sheer numbers?”

“About any of it,” Neon said.

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I cannot,” she said, “at least, not easily, not with a clear conscience. It is … disturbing, the heavy handedness with which the police will act, considering their inaction in other areas.” They would not investigate a murder, but they will assail unarmed protesters with all the force at their command. Are they officers or law or tools of the powerful?

“However,” she went on, “there is one area for which I feel I can chide you, despite your seeming sure that is impossible.”

Neon’s eyebrows rose. “Go on, give it a try.”

“Your mother has no idea where you are,” Ciel declared.

A whimper escaped from Neon’s lips. “That is … that is below the belt,” she said. “You haven’t told her yet, then?”

“Not yet,” Ciel said. “She called me, as it happens, worried sick because you didn’t come home last night. She’d hoped that you were with me and had forgotten to tell her so. I told her that you weren’t with me but that I would find you. I was worried sick myself, with all of this … everything that’s going on, I thought you might have gotten into trouble.”

“I kind of did,” Neon said.

“Yes,” Ciel agreed. “Yes, you did.”

“But for a good cause,” Neon added.

“Probably, yes, but I’m not sure that your mother will see it that way,” Ciel murmured.

“No, she won’t; I can hear the lecture already,” Neon muttered. “Throwing away my future.”

“Criminal record,” Ciel said.

“After all she’s sacrificed.”

“Don’t think before you act,” Ciel said.

“What would my father say if he were alive to see me now,” Neon said.

“Surely, she wouldn’t go that far,” Ciel said.

“Oh, she definitely would,” Neon replied.

“That … is a little harsh, if so,” Ciel said softly. “Although, everything else seems much like what I would hear from my mother if our places were exchanged on either side of these bars. Except … I fear that that would never happen.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Neon said. “If you’d been in my place, in the moment, all your concerns, all your doubts, they would have fallen away, and only the action, only the clarity of what was going on, who was right and who was wrong, would have remained.”

Ciel glanced down at the grey floor beneath her feet. “You are … very kind to say so,” she murmured. Although I’m not so sure you’re right.

“So … are you going to tell her?” Neon asked. “My mother, I mean?”

The door to her cell slid open.

“You can tell her yourself,” Ciel said, “when you tell her that you have to go to Atlas to report to Major Santiago at oh-seven-thirty hours for disciplinary action.”

Neon blinked. “I’m … going to Atlas?”

“You are very lucky,” Ciel declared. “You are not being charged with any offences; rather, the police have agreed to allow this to be handled as a matter of school discipline. Although, if you escape a stint in solitary confinement, it will be a miracle.”

Neon stared at her. “I … I can walk out of here? Like the Mistralian prisoner?”

“No,” Ciel said. “You can walk out of here and onto an airship bound for Atlas.”

Neon snorted. “Chance would be a fine thing; the skydock staff are on strike too; there are no airships flying.”

Ciel rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll call Rainbow Dash and have her come here to pick you up,” she said. “It is a right and proper thing to stand up for what is right, even if it leads to punishment; however, you still have to actually suffer punishment.”

Neon sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to console myself with the knowledge that I’ll be rewarded for my virtues in the next life.” She stepped out of the cell. “So how did Major Santiago find out that I was in here?”

Ciel didn’t meet Neon’s eyes. “I really cannot imagine.”

She felt, rather than saw, Neon put one arm around her shoulder. “Oh, I think you can imagine pretty well.”

Ciel hesitated. “I … may have pleaded with her for assistance when I found out that you were being held in custody. It was … the least I could do, after all your … everything.”

They walked out of the police station, ignoring the desk sergeant who was giving Neon a dirty look, and out onto the streets of Mantle. The air was brisk and bracing, a chill that struck Ciel’s face as soon as she emerged back into it.

Distantly, from some way off, the sound of a rally or protest drifted through the air, the repetitive chant seeming very quiet now, although it must be very loud indeed to be heard from a distance as it was.

“The miners! United! Will never be defeated!

The miners! United! Will never be defeated!”

“You see?” Neon asked. “Where would you have heard something like that around here before now?”

“I do wonder what has caused it,” Ciel murmured. “Not the outrage, but the confidence.”

“The SDC has been wounded,” Neon said. “It doesn’t seem invincible any more. People are thinking that if two kids can damage it, why can’t a whole city?” She took her hand off Ciel’s shoulder and slipped both arms around Ciel’s right arm. “So,” she said, “where to?”

Ciel looked at her. “Do you not think that you should go home?”

“Probably,” Neon muttered. “But you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

Ciel continued to look at Neon.

“Don’t give me that look!” Neon replied. “My mom loves you. She thinks you’re a good influence on me. She might not be so hard on me if you’re there to back me up.”

“Ah, so you want me to be your shield,” Ciel said.

“A little bit,” Neon replied, without a trace of shame. “Plus, she’ll be really grateful to you for getting me out. She might even make that butter chicken you like.”

Ciel sniffed. “You have no need to bribe me,” she said stiffly. “But … if you were to invite me to dinner, I would not say no.”

“No. Of course you wouldn’t. You’re too polite.”

“So long as you promise that I will not get caught up in a family argument,” Ciel said.

“Weeeeeeell,” Neon said, drawing out the word as she and Ciel set off in the direction of Neon’s home, Neon still hanging on Ciel’s arm, “I … well, besides the whole ‘getting arrested’ thing … can I tell you something?”

Ciel looked at her. “You can tell me anything.”

“Can I tell you something that my mother is going to hate?” Neon asked.

“You can tell me anything,” Ciel insisted.

Still hesitated, her whole body squirming a little against Ciel’s arm. “I … I am considering — only considering, mind — but I’m thinking about, maybe—”

“You do realise that I am not your mother,” Ciel said.

“I know!” Neon cried. “But you’re not going to want to hear this either.”

Ciel breathed in and out. “There is absolutely nothing you could say that would change the fact that you are my best friend and I love you.”

Neon closed her eyes for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “I’m thinking about not joining the military after graduation.”

Ciel could not keep her mouth hanging open, though she felt that it was to her credit that that was all the reaction that she gave. She did not stumble, she did not squawk, she did not make any other vocal sound of displeasure, her eyes didn’t widen.

Inside, she wanted to do at least a little of all those things. You too? First Penny, and now you as well?

Is everyone going to turn against Atlas?

Is everyone … going to leave me?

That was unfair on Neon, very unfair, but … they had planned to be on the same team together when they went to Atlas. Obviously, circumstances — Ciel’s injury which forced her to sit a year out — had gotten in the way of that, but Ciel had had the idea that after they had both graduated, they might be in the same unit, sister officers as it were. Specialists working together, or maybe lieutenants in the same company or battalion.

To find that Neon didn’t want that … hurt, even if perhaps it shouldn’t. It shouldn’t, but it did. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt if it hadn’t come so hard on everything happening with Penny, but it did, and so it did.

Ciel was filled with a spike of resentment towards Rainbow Dash, who had gained in Blake a friend and partner, while she, Ciel, was losing everyone.

To lose Penny could be attributable to Penny’s choice, but to lose Neon as well was starting to look like there was something about Ciel that pushed people away.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Neon said.

“Like what?” Ciel thought, worried that she hadn’t hid her expression as well as she had thought.

“Like … that!” Neon cried, waving her hand in front of Ciel’s face. “This isn’t anything to do with you.”

“Is … is it not?” Ciel asked softly. “First Penny—”

“Hey!” Neon snapped. “Don’t compare me to that two-faced bitch, okay? I don’t deserve that.”

Ciel frowned. “And Penny does not deserve such language.”

“Doesn’t she?” Neon demanded. “She puts on that happy, clappy, cheery, bouncy, smiley act in public and then kicks you to the curb. When I think about how she makes you feel, I want to kick her ass. If we were Mistralians, I would have called her out by now.”

“I am very glad that you have not,” Ciel replied. “Penny … there is more to the story than you know.”

“Then tell me the rest,” Neon urged.

“I cannot,” Ciel said.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“It’s classified,” Ciel told her.

Neon frowned. “Seriously?”

Ciel nodded. “Seriously.”

Neon blinked. “I … ooookay. I knew there was something odd about your team. Huh. Okay.”

She looked away for a second, and a silence fell between them, interrupted only by the sounds of their footsteps upon the pavement and the chanting of the crowd that was growing ever more distant.

“The miners! United! Will never be defeated!”

“I would love to serve alongside you,” Neon said. “But … I just think—”

“Are you trying to tell me it’s not me, it’s the military?” Ciel asked.

Neon grinned. “Kind of, although it isn’t really the military either. I meant what I said; this isn’t some Robyn Hill thing where I denounce the military and Atlas and spit in the General’s breakfast or whatever. This is…” She fell silent for a moment. “What is the point of going out and setting the world to rights when there is injustice and tyranny right here at home?”

“'Tyranny'?” Ciel repeated.

“Just because the tyrant is a boss instead of a king, does that make him any less of a tyrant?” Neon asked. “People have been suffering under the SDC just as much as they ever did under the kings of Mantle. It’s not as obvious suffering as burning someone alive, maybe, but … it’s still suffering, and people are dying just the same, and even if they weren’t … my point stands. When our own kingdom is so … first, take the log out of your own eye, then take the speck from your brother’s eye.”

Ciel nodded. “The epistle to the people of Crossed.”

“Doesn’t it seem like we’ve been plucking the specks from other people’s eyes for a while?” Neon asked.

“That depends on what you mean,” Ciel replied. “If Mantle’s problems could be solved by huntsmen, then Robyn Hill would have cleaned up this city by now. What is it you actually plan to do, if not join the military?”

Neon shrugged. “I thought about joining Thornmane’s Guardians.”

“I see,” Ciel murmured. “At least you are not planning to become an outlaw, I suppose.”

“But you don’t approve.”

“No,” Ciel said.

Thornmane’s Guardians were, as the name suggested, the creation of retired Major Bran Thornmane, a former Specialist, former commanding officer of the Ninth Battalion, who had founded Atlas’ first private security company, importing the model that proved so hardy in Mistral. The Guardians offered settlements, particularly small villages that might either struggle to afford to have a huntsman come out and serve them, struggle to persuade him to stay very long if he did, or have difficulty getting one to arrive in time, a permanent presence, a single defender — a guardian, hence the name — to stave off threats to the safety of these places, while Thornmane himself maintained a reserve of skilled personnel for occasional huntsman work but also to reinforce any particularly threatened area where a single guardian was insufficient to the task.

As Ciel understood the business model, the idea was that the more prosperous settlements and better paying jobs would subsidise the protection of the poorer places.

It was … not an unworthy cause, and certainly, it was better than simply complaining that the military could not be everywhere. But, at the same time…

“You could do so much more than sit on your tailbone in an out-of-the-way village getting fat and forgotten,” Ciel said, “and how would that help Mantle in any case? I understand your reasoning, and if you really believe that you can do more good outside of an Atlas uniform, then very well, but please, for my sake, think about how exactly any other path you might take will actually address the issues in this city.”

Neon grinned. “I could get in more fights with cops, and they couldn’t even arrest me for it.”

Ciel sighed. “First of all, I think they could, and second of all, please don’t descend to becoming an outlaw. Avoiding such was the great merit of becoming a Guardian.”

“Okay, okay,” Neon said. “I … guess you’ve got a point. Now that Blake and Dashie have done their thing, it’s not like there’s an enemy here who can be beaten up. It just … it felt okay to walk away when all that seemed to be waiting for Mantle was everything getting worse and worse until there was nothing but a pit of people moaning softly. But now that the city is crying out its rage, now that you can hear the people sing … it feels like quitting.” She paused. “Oh, and by the way, that’s not hyperbole; they were actually singing before the cops started in on them. Do you want to hear it?”

“Not particularly, thank you, although I have no doubt it was very stirring,” Ciel said, before Neon could get started. “I … understand; for a long time, I have wanted nothing more than to get away from here, perhaps to get my family out. But to change a city … that is not work for me. I have not the mind for it, nor the temperament; leave that to other hands. Is that really for you? And how?” She ventured a smile. “Also, your mother will no doubt kill you. Either that, or die herself of a heart attack brought on by too much apoplexy.”

Neon sniggered, leaning against Ciel’s shoulder. “Yeah, okay, I don’t need you to tell me that. She wants me to become a respectable officer, and I still might! I’m not saying that I’ve made my mind up; I’m saying that I’m thinking about keeping my options open more than I was before. Hey, Ciel?”

“Yes?” Ciel asked.

“How do you think all of this will end up?” Neon asked. “The strike, and everything else?”

Ciel looked across the street, to where a couple of children were playing in Blake and Rainbow Dash wigs. “I think,” she said. “I think that our friends might just have made a change that will last, but how much of one … I cannot say.”

Neon lived in a nicer part of Mantle than Ciel did these days; in as much as there were any nice parts of Mantle, Neon lived in one. Management in the hospitality industry paid better than serving in the military, it seemed. Mantle was basically structured in three or four rings, with the central areas of the city, the areas closest to the industries, being of somewhat poor quality, the poor quality of which Mantle was infamous in Atlas, if not in Remnant; then there was a sort of middle ring, a band surrounding the centre which took the form of what might have been called suburban had they not been so thoroughly urban in location, if not in character; then there was the outer part of the city, closest to the walls and thus closest to danger if the walls ever came down, and thus home to the very poorest, the most recent arrivals in Mantle, the new immigrants who headed north in search of jobs.

It was in the prosperous band sandwiched in the middle where the Katt family made their home, in a neighbourhood of detached two-storey houses with cladding over the walls to conceal the stonework, albeit the cladding was getting a bit dirty and showing it on account of the white colour which had probably been a mistake. It was not immune to the general Mantle malaise, by any means — the windows in this part of town could do with a good clean — but there was a car on every driveway, and there was a driveway, which was more than most homes in Mantle could say.

Speaking of the windows, the Katts’ next door neighbour was out cleaning theirs, while his children borrowed his bucket of water to fill their water pistols.

“Take this, Blake!”

“You’ll never get me, Rainbow Dash!”

“Are they fighting each other?” Ciel asked softly.

“Who else are they supposed to fight, I guess?” Neon murmured. “Who do you think would win if they did fight?”

“Blake,” Ciel said immediately.

“You said that really fast,” Neon declared. “Where’s your sense of loyalty?”

“First of all, Rainbow would never go all out against Blake,” Ciel pointed out, “and secondly, even if she did, she couldn’t hit Blake if she wanted to; Blake’s clones give her an insurmountable advantage.”

“There’s more to a fight than semblance, you know that,” Neon insisted. “If she wanted to keep swapping out clones, she’d burn through her aura, and if she didn’t, then Dash would beat her down.” She paused. “Not that it’ll ever happen.”

“No,” Ciel agreed. “No, it will not.”

The door to Neon’s house was red, a striking contrast to the white cladding over the walls around it, but which matched the colour of the four-door car out front. Neon fished her keys out of one of the pockets of her parka and opened the door with a series of mild clicks and rattles.

The walls in the hall were a grey blue, while the carpet was simply grey, and with the light from the open door blocked by Ciel and Neon, the room looked darker than it need have done.

As Ciel shut the door after her, she heard footsteps stamping quickly down the stairs.

“Neon!” Jade Katt cried as she rushed down the stairs. She was roughly of an age with Ciel’s own mother, shorter than either Ciel or her own daughter but not by a great deal, with jade green hair cut around her shoulders and big blue eyes set in a round face. A feline tail as green as her hair emerged from underneath her skirt, waggling furiously as she descended into the hallway. “Neon, you’re home!”

Neon smiled. “Hey, Mom.”

Mrs. Katt reached the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t you ‘hey mom’ me, young lady; don’t you know how worried I’ve been about you?! No idea of where you might be, no word on when you’d be back; I called your—” She noticed Ciel, and her expression softened at once. “Oh, hello, Ciel, dear.”

Ciel curtsied. “Mrs. Katt.”

“Oh, please, how many times? Call me Jade; you're old enough now,” urged Mrs. Katt. “How’s your mother, love? How’s your brother?”

“Alain is responding well to treatment,” Ciel said. “Mother is with him at the hospital, more often than not.”

“Of course she is,” Mrs. Katt replied. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’ve been lighting candles in the church for him.”

“Your concern is very much appreciated,” Ciel said. God and the Lady may not appreciate it, but we certainly do.

Mrs. Katt smiled warmly. “Thank you for looking for Neon; I felt better already when you told me that you’d go and look for her. I don’t suppose you can stay for dinner? I’m making biryani.”

Ciel smiled and bowed her head. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Katt.”

“Oh no, it’s always my pleasure having you around,” Mrs. Katt assured her. The smile slid off her face as her attention returned to Neon. “But as for you—!”

She grabbed Neon by one ear, dragging her protesting daughter — who, though she might protest, did not meaningfully resist; it was her mother after all — out of the hall and into the living room.

The carpet was grey in here as well, and the walls the same blue grey, but the large window admitted enough light that it did not seem so dark. A large picture of Neon’s late father hung on the wall facing the door, beaming down upon anyone who walked through the door, his portrait garlanded with yellow flowers.

An icon of the Lady sat on a small table underneath, with candles burning on either side of it.

In a padded armchair in the corner, beside the window, sat Neon’s paternal grandmother, Cerulean Katt, although the cerulean hair for which she had been named had mostly turned to white by now. A pair of cat ears emerged from out of that same hair.

“Ceru!” Mrs. Katt cried as she dragged Neon inside. “Look at the cat that came back at last!”

Cerulean’s ears twitched. “Neon!” she shouted. “You didn’t think to call! Your mother and I have been so worried about you!”

“I’m sorry, Nana—”

“I thought that you’d been kidnapped by robots!”

“That was in Low Town, not Mantle, Nana, and Rainbow Dash and Blake took care of it,” Neon said.

“Or had been taken away by the SDC.”

“Blake and Dashie took care of that too, Nana,” Neon said a little wearily.

“Then where have you been?” demanded Mrs. Katt.

Ciel looked away, her mouth tightening.

Neon straightened her arms at her side, not looking at either her mother or grandmother. “I … I … I was … I got arrested.”

There was a moment of absolute silence in the room; as the faces of Jade and Cerulean slid into shock and horror, the beaming smile upon her father’s face seemed almost inappropriate.

“You WHAT?!” they both yelled.

“Are you trying to throw away your future?!” Mrs. Katt shouted. “After all that I have sacrificed—”

“And there it is,” Neon muttered.

“What did you say?!”

“Nothing, Mom, nothing at all!”

Back to Vale (New)

Back to Vale

The door slid open, and a ball hit Rainbow Dash on the shoulder.

She didn’t flinch, but she did move the tray she was carrying slightly so that the ball landed on the floor instead of in Neon’s spaghetti.

Neon sat at the back of the incredibly narrow, arch-shaped cell, one hand outstretched as though to catch the ball when it bounced.

“Sorry about that,” she said, a sheepish look on her face. “Oh, hey, Dashie. You know, I’m pretty sure that solitary confinement means I’m not supposed to have visitors.”

Rainbow lifted up the tray in her hands an inch higher, although Neon couldn’t have missed it already. “I’m bringing your dinner,” she explained, as though it needed explanation.

Neon had been confined to quarters over the few days between her arrest and all the Atlas students heading back to Beacon, and now that they were actually on their way to Vale, she was in solitary confinement in the brig aboard the Hope, the same warship that had carried Team RSPT home to Atlas after the Breach.

“Can you give me my ball back as well?” Neon asked. “It’s the only company I’ve got in here.”

Rainbow nudged the ball with her foot, letting it roll across the dark cell — so dark that most of what she could make out about Neon was her hair — towards her.

Neon bent double to pick it up. “Thanks,” she said. “Is it really your job to be bringing me meals?”

“I thought you’d appreciate a friendly face, so I told the kitchen staff that I’d take care of it,” Rainbow said.

“You mean you missed me so much you couldn’t take it anymore?” Neon asked, grinning. “What’s for dinner?”

“Spaghetti with meatballs—”

“With Vacuan tagine sauce or tomato sauce?”

“Tomato.”

Neon’s face fell. “I prefer the Vacuan sauce.”

“Almost everyone prefers the Vacuan sauce,” Rainbow agreed. “And then there’s tapioca pudding for dessert.”

“Is it any good?”

“It would be if you wanted to plaster a wall.”

Neon snorted. “Thanks for the warning.”

Rainbow ducked down to walk into the cell, feeling the walls brush against her shoulders as she did so; she couldn’t imagine how they got anyone bigger than … well, bigger than her in here, and even she was pushing it.

If you were a big guy, this must be torture.

Of course, it wasn’t supposed to be nice, but at the same time, Neon didn’t really deserve to be treated too badly.

At least Rainbow didn’t think so; she was aware the law might disagree.

“Here,” she said, handing Neon the tray.

“Thanks,” Neon said, taking the grey plastic tray out of Rainbow’s hands and picking up the little plastic fork. She twirled it between her fingertips. She looked down at her dinner and then glanced back up at Rainbow Dash. “Do you need to wait to get the tray back? I thought you were supposed to leave me to think about what I did.”

Rainbow would have leaned against the wall, but she was kind of leaning against both walls already. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed. “Because if you spend too long thinking about what you did, you’ll think you’re even more awesome than you already do.”

“That’s because I am awesome,” Neon said, “and I don’t see any point in false modesty.”

Rainbow smiled slightly. “How are you holding up?”

“In here?” Neon asked. She sighed. “Bored. Which is kind of the point, I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier.” She jabbed the plastic fork into the spaghetti and began to turn it in place, wrapping the slightly orange-looking spaghetti, lightly coated in a thin layer of red tomato sauce, around it. She stuck it into her mouth and started chewing on it. She swallowed. “Do you think I did the right thing?”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. Did she think that? What did she think? Had Neon done the right thing?

Obviously, the law said no — she’d committed a crime, and been damn lucky not to have the book thrown at her for it — but the law … the law wasn’t right and wrong. The law was … the law was something else, and those who upheld the law … they were often something else too.

There was an old joke in Atlas Academy: if you couldn’t make it in the Academy, you joined the army; if you couldn’t make it in the army, you became a cop. That was harsh, but at the same time … well, it hadn’t been the cops who had stopped those kidnappings down in Low Town, and the cops hadn’t been interested in that old lady’s killer either.

There came a point where, if you wanted your name to be associated with good things, you actually had to go out there and do some good. Atlas talked a good game, and as far as some were concerned, it was maybe all talk, but Atlas had been there for Vale when it counted, in the Breach; they’d stepped in to save the day. It was like that with the cops; if you wanted to be taken seriously as guardians of the public and their trust, as people who only a villain would pick a fight with, you had to actually guard the public and earn their trust. Otherwise…

Rainbow hadn’t set out to cause a strike. She hadn’t set out to inspire Mantle, she hadn’t even been thinking about Mantle at the time, she didn’t even like Mantle, not one bit, but … she reckoned that people had a right to be upset about this. And even if they blamed Atlas for it … this had been going on for a while, and nobody had noticed. Perhaps that was something that Atlas deserved to be blamed for.

Perhaps. Maybe. But also kind of not, because it was thanks to Atlas that the whole thing had been exposed; it wasn’t like it was Robyn Hill who’d rescued Leaf.

They should be … not grateful, but, like, don’t take it out on everyone. Get mad at the SDC where your anger belongs.

But also, don’t beat up kids who want to shout about how upset they are.

“Yeah,” she said, “yeah, I think you did the right thing. I don’t know what the cops were thinking.”

“They were thinking that protests are bad, probably,” Neon replied. “So … what’s it like, being a hero?”

“In Mantle?”

“Anywhere,” Neon said. “You’re big in Mantle, but people know who you and Blake are everywhere.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow murmured. “I wish Blake could see how good it was.”

“She’s not happy about it?” Neon asked.

“Not really.”

“Is Blake able to be happy?” asked Neon.

“Yes!” Rainbow insisted. “Blake can be happy; she just … isn’t, about this.”

“She’s got kids running around pretending to be her; what’s not to like?”

“She doesn’t want to lose touch?”

Neon frowned as she chewed on the meatball that she had just placed into her mouth. She swallowed. “Come again?”

“Blake’s exact words were: 'when you get placed upon a pedestal, you become separated from those who put you there in the first place.'”

Neon blinked, her eyes narrowing. They stayed narrow, just as the frown remained upon her face, as she ate another mouthful of spaghetti. “Can you unpack that for me or does it make as little sense to you?”

“I … I think what she’s saying is that when everyone thinks you’re amazing, they also think you’re too good to associate with the likes of them, so you lose all of your friends,” Rainbow said. “That’s basically it, as far as I can make out.”

“What a lot of nothing to worry about,” Neon said. “You introduced her to your crowd, right?”

Rainbow nodded. “That’s right.”

“Then tell her, from me,” Neon said, “that I may not know your friends all that well, but I don’t need to know them well to say that you could be stuck on a pedestal two miles high with no wings to get you down and Pinkie Pie would still be standing at the bottom with a bullhorn screeching ‘Hiya, Rainbow Dash!’ up at you.”

“Pinkie doesn’t screech,” Rainbow said sharply.

“Pinkie screeches some of the time,” Neon insisted.

Rainbow scowled. “You won’t hear me admit that.”

“You don’t have to admit anything; it’s true,” Neon said. “And so is what I said about the bullhorn. Even if Blake was up on a pedestal, and, okay, sure, she’s getting there, but so what? Does she think that we’re all going to get on our knees and tell her that she must not come near us because we’re so unworthy and unclean?”

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous, but—”

“Where’s this coming from?” asked Neon.

“Pyrrha,” Rainbow said. “She hasn’t enjoyed being famous.”

“And she told Blake that—”

“I think it’s more like Blake is a little worried that she might end up like Pyrrha.”

“But Pyrrha’s Mistralian; they’re all crazy!” Neon declared. “Oh, la, sir how impertinent you dare speak to me. Once you go in for all that madness, things are bound to get messed up. We’ve got our heads on straight mostly. We do our hero worship in a responsible way. Tell her I’ll still be making fun of her as soon as I get out of this cell.”

Rainbow chuckled. “I’ll be sure to pass that on.”

“Do you think she has anything to worry about?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “But at the same time … Blake doesn’t want to be famous, and that’s … that’s her thing to not want.”

“Even if the reasons are bad?”

“That’s not for me to say, is it?” asked Rainbow.

Neon shrugged. “We need heroes,” she said. “We need faunus heroes; we need both of you—”

“I know,” Rainbow said. “Our people need to know that you can be recognized, and humans need to see that we … that we’re here, and we’re not just … that we can stand with the best of them.”

“And that was always what you wanted for Blake, wasn’t it?” Neon asked. “To stand with the best of them.”

“I wanted Blake to be all that she could be,” Rainbow said, a little defensively. “But … yeah, I wanted her to be … I thought that she could be … they call her the Warrior Princess of Menagerie. It’s not just what she does; she’s got that Belladonna name too, it’s… it’s like magic.”

“Then get it into her head and stop her moping or moaning or whatever she’s doing,” Neon said. “But I didn’t ask what Blake thought about all this; I asked what you thought. What’s it like for you, getting the recognition?”

Rainbow was quiet for a moment, only a kind of scoffing sound getting out of her mouth. She took a step back, almost out of the cell. “It’s … it’s funny,” she said. “You know I dreamed of this. Ever since I started at Canterlot … maybe even before then, when I was a little kid in Low Town staring up at Atlas and telling myself I’d live there someday. I dreamed of this. I dreamed of when I’d … when I’d rise so high, when I’d do something so great, when everyone would know who I was … now that it’s here—”

“Please don’t say something like ‘now that it’s here, I realise fame isn’t really worth anything,’” Neon said.

Rainbow laughed. “No, that’s not what I was gonna say. What I was gonna say was … is it petty of me if I wish that it had been for something cooler?”

“You’re complaining about not becoming famous in the exact way that you would have wanted, so yes, I’d say that is very petty of you,” Neon declared in a voice as flat as the deck.

“Okay, okay, but,” Rainbow went on, “I just wish that people know who I was because I’d defended Atlas, stopped a grimm horde—”

“You helped with that,” Neon pointed out.

“And then I become famous for nearly bringing down the SDC,” Rainbow reminded her.

“That … was the last straw, you might say,” Neon said. “On top of everything else that you two have been up to.”

“I just wanted to get to the truth,” Rainbow said.

Neon was silent for a second. “'The truth,'” she murmured. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I knew … something,” Rainbow said. “I’d seen someone’s face branded.”

“Well, in that case, you had to know that the answers would lead back to the Schnee Dust Company, and it wasn’t going to make them look good.”

“I know,” Rainbow replied. “But it wasn’t what I wanted to be known for.”

“Fame is fame,” Neon said. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Rainbow Dash: a real Atlesian hero.”

“Let’s not go nuts.”

“But it is pretty cool, right?” Neon pressed.

A smile crept across Rainbow’s face. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Like I said, it … it’s what I always wanted: people to know who I was, what I’d done. I want … I still want … Twilight, Twilight’s folks, General Ironwood, all the people who took a chance on me, who helped me up, who helped me get here … I feel like I’ve started paying them back, you know?”

Again, it wasn’t the way that I envisaged paying them back, but … things will work out.

If the strikes in Mantle dragged on, the Council would enforce a settlement between the SDC and the workers; they would have to, there was no other choice. Dust supplies couldn’t be interrupted for too long; there were reserves, yes, but far from unlimited; Atlas used a lot of dust each day, and then there were the other kingdoms to consider as well. Mistral had its own mines, but not enough to even fully supply its own needs, let alone those of Atlas or Vale, and Vale … Vale had some upstart little company called Starhead Industrial that was doing robotics and dust, but they didn’t have anything like the capacity required either. And Rainbow Dash had no idea what their stockpiles were like; after the robberies that had gone down this year, Vale might not have any stockpiles at all.

No, it was imperative that the strike be settled and work resume, and that would mean that the Council would act if Jacques Schnee refused to negotiate.

Although exactly how they would act was harder to say. If the workers were not happy with any terms the Council tried to enforce, what then?

They would not send in the military; Rainbow was sure of that. They were not robots, after all, but men, and in the whole military, she doubted you could find a single squad willing to take action against unarmed civilians. That wasn’t what people joined the Atlas military for; that wasn’t the enemy they signed up to fight.

The Council would never turn its forces on its own people; these weren’t the bad old days from just after the war; these people weren’t even rioting.

It wouldn’t happen.

Something would happen. Something would have to happen, but not that.

Something that wouldn’t be ‘paying back’ General Ironwood and Twilight in completely the wrong way.

“Dashie,” Neon said. “No regrets, okay? It’s a bit of a shock, everything is a bit up in the air, but … you did the right thing. Don’t regret it.”

“I don’t regret it,” Rainbow said.

“Good,” Neon said, “because you shouldn’t.” She held out her tray. “I’m all done here, by the way, if you want to take this back.”

Rainbow stepped back into the cell and took the plastic tray from Neon’s hands. “You ate your dessert,” she observed.

“It wasn’t as bad as you said,” Neon replied. “Plus, I was hungry. Will I be seeing you for breakfast tomorrow morning as well?”

“We’ll see,” Rainbow murmured. “I’d tell you to take care, but … yeah.”

“Yeah,” Neon agreed. “I was thinking about going out, you know? Go to a club, maybe catch a movie or something, but then I thought, nah, I’ll just have a quiet night in.” She shifted her body as much as the cramped space of the cell allowed. “That’s how I’m looking at it, just having a quiet night in. One of a hundred or so.”

Not only was Neon in solitary on the way to Vale, once they arrived, she was going to be confined to Beacon campus, and then she would be back in solitary on the way back to Atlas and probably once she arrived in Atlas as well.

She wasn’t under arrest, but that didn’t mean she was getting off lightly, not by a longshot.

“I … I’ll be back in the morning,” Rainbow promised, because solitary confinement was an awful punishment, and Neon deserved a break from it. “Or Ciel will.”

“That’d be nice,” Neon said. “Thanks, Dashie. You take care too.”

Rainbow nodded before she stepped out of the way of the door and pushed the green button beside it to slam it closed in front of her.

The green light changed to red, indicating that the door was now locked.

From the other side came the muffled sound of a ball bouncing on the door.

Rainbow took Neon’s meal tray back to the galley, which was pretty much empty, dinner having ceased and with no more meals to prepare until breakfast tomorrow morning. Nevertheless, it was not completely empty; there was somebody who took the tray off her hands and who remarked that she’d eaten more of the dessert than most of those to whom it had been served that evening. Rainbow didn’t admit that Neon had eaten more than her — the cooks did the best they could with the ingredients they got and the budget they had; the Atlesian military was lavishly equipped, but the fact that that same sense of money no object didn’t extend as far as the catering wasn’t the fault of the chefs or the galley stewards — she just smiled and gave the tray back and then returned to the room that Team RSPT was sharing for the journey.

For its last journey. After this, after the Vytal Festival, there would be no more Team RSPT.

That wasn’t something to get too sentimental about; this wasn’t like the disbanding of a regiment that could trace its battle honours back hundreds of years, or even the breaking up of a team that had been together, shed blood together, through Initiation to graduation and beyond. They were an artificial team in a lot of ways, assembled by the General for a specific purpose, and that purpose was almost over now, if not in the ways that General Ironwood or Doctor Polendina might have anticipated.

Nevertheless, it was an ending, and that was enough to give Rainbow pause for thought.

Apart from anything else, it made her think about what General Ironwood was going to say when Penny’s transfer request — which they were going to help her work on tonight, right now, as soon as Rainbow got through the door — landed on his desk.

Rainbow … she had no idea how he was going to react.

Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. It was kind of true, partly true, but at the same time … General Ironwood was a good man. Rainbow believed that with all her heart; she knew it for a certainty. General Ironwood was a good man, as well as a great man, and as a good man, he would be able to see what Rainbow had seen, what Ciel had come to see, what none of the three members of Team RSPT who had been assigned to watch over Penny could deny any longer: that Penny had no more need of guardians than she had desire for them; what she wanted and needed both was freedom.

And because he was a good man, General Ironwood would see that to deny Penny that freedom would be plain and simple evil, as foul as anything that had been done in those covert SDC facilities.

He would see that. He would see it because he was a good man, because it was impossible not to recognise it once it was pointed out to you, because they would make him see it.

Rainbow just didn’t know how hard that making would be, how much effort it would take to open the General’s eyes, and how he might react before they were.

But he would recognise it, and being a good man, he would see that Penny could not be denied in this, any more than any other student would be. And he would be an ally in the fight that might lie ahead, with those who … who were perhaps not such good men as the General was.

Of course that wasn’t the only thing that it made Rainbow think about it. It also made her think about the fact that Twilight would soon be going back to the lab, where Rainbow wouldn’t have to worry about her — an altogether good thing, in her opinion — and that Ciel would be … it was too early to say where exactly Ciel would end up; that would be for General Ironwood to decide, as he would decide what to do with Rainbow Dash. But if Rainbow was offered another team to lead, then she would push for Ciel to be a part of it; she would be an asset to any team she ended up on, and Rainbow liked having assets on her side.

Rainbow, Ciel … and Blake, if she could swing it. Team RSPT was ending its brief existence, but something new was beginning now, something involving Blake, the Warrior Princess of Menagerie, making her home among the clouds.

That was … that was a good thing, for Atlas and for Blake; it was a new beginning, just as Penny was setting out on a new beginning.

A new beginning for every ending.

But endings, nonetheless. And endings were a chance to, in bureaucratic-speak, conduct a lessons learned.

Rainbow had not been such a good team leader for RSPT as she had been for RASP, her first team. She hadn’t been such a good team leader to Penny. Tactically, she thought she had done … alright. You should always be your own harshest critic — that was a lesson that the General had taught her — but nevertheless, Rainbow thought that, tactically, she had done alright. The team had performed well in combat, they had assisted in the capture of Roman Torchwick, they had assisted in stopping a major dust robbery, they had assisted in defending Vale at the Breach. She had killed one of Cinder’s lieutenants, although it was very disappointing that Lightning Dust had survived that fall.

Penny had been injured because of her, and that was why Rainbow would not rate her performance any higher than ‘alright,’ but other than that black mark, there was nothing in battle for which she blamed herself.

Pastorally, on the other hand … yeah. She had focused too much on Blake, who had not been her responsibility, and not enough on Penny, who was. If Rainbow had acted differently, then Penny might not be transferring out now.

Not that there was anything to be done about it, but it was something to bear in mind for next time, next year.

I did it before, I can do it again. Applejack, Maud, Spearhead … it had taken her too long to see Penny the same way. It wasn’t a mistake that she would make again.

She wouldn’t allow herself to make it again.

She would make things right with Penny, and then she would carry the lesson forward.

Sienna Khan’s book, which Mister Tukson had given her, ended with the declaration that: Though the road to socialism may be long, the faunus will walk it because he walks on two legs, not four. It was not quite like any history book that Rainbow Dash had ever read before.

Rainbow didn’t know much about socialism, and wasn’t too keen on what she did understand — keep your hands off Twilight’s stuff, and Rarity’s too, for that matter — but she knew that she didn’t walk on four legs either, but on two, and on those two legs, she would walk the road to success, though it was as long as the road to socialism for the faunus.

And every stumble would teach her something.

Treat robots like people.

No, forget the reasons why your team was formed, forget what your orders are, treat your teammates like your family, always.

She walked through the door — it slid open for her with a hiss — and into the room.

Twilight, Ciel, and Penny were waiting for her inside. Penny was sitting on one of the lower bunk beds, with Twilight sat down beside her and Ciel standing over the pair of them.

"How is Neon?" Ciel asked as Rainbow came in.

"Bored, but okay," Rainbow replied. "She'd like a visit in the morning, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Ciel murmured. "Of course, staying to talk is not exactly in the spirit of solitary confinement."

"It's a fig leaf to keep the cops happy," Rainbow said. "It has to look like more than a slap on the wrist."

"It is more than a slap on the wrist," Ciel pointed out. "It is a harsh punishment, in many respects."

"Too harsh?" Penny asked, looking up.

Ciel hesitated. "A lighter punishment would, as Rainbow points out, have caused as much difficulty as it would have solved. The police in Mantle would have taken it badly and made a fuss about it. Neon needed to be punished in order to escape punishment, as it were, but at the same time … yes, it is too harsh a punishment for what she did. The law was made for man, not man for the law. I will go and see her tomorrow."

"Great," Rainbow said. "Because I want to go over and see Blake tomorrow about her transfer papers. In the meantime—”

"My transfer papers!" Penny cried excitedly.

"Exactly," Rainbow said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes!" Penny proclaimed, holding up the scroll which was in her hands. "I have the forms up right here."

"It's just personal details to begin with," Twilight said, looking down at Penny's scroll. "Those are easy to fill out."

Penny gave a slight nod of her head, swiping her finger across the device to bring up the keyboard covering the bottom half of the screen. Her finger skipped lightly from key to key, typing out her name. She stopped, frowning a little. "What's my date of birth?"

"Ah, yes," Twilight said. "Your birthday … rather, the birthday that was given to you, is June twenty-first, twenty-one-oh-four."

"Doesn't that mean Penny started school when she was sixteen?" Rainbow asked.

"Penny started school when she was not even one," Ciel pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but you know what I mean."

"It was decided," Twilight said. "That, um, that it would be better for Penny to be a little young in order to explain her … lack of maturity."

I guess, but sixteen isn't that young.

Twilight had spoken apologetically, but Penny didn't seem to mind. In fact, she barely seemed to notice, entering the date into her form without any qualm at all. "And I'm a student at Atlas, and I want to transfer to Beacon," she said softly as she selected the relevant options from the dropdown boxes presented to her. She stopped. "Why do I have to give my reasons?"

"Because transfers disrupt the system," Ciel explained. "Teams have already been set up, rooms have been allocated; from the day of each school's Initiation, everything is settled and in its proper place for the next four years. Transfers, especially transfers of individual students, disrupt that."

"Are there other kinds of transfers than of individual students?" Penny asked.

"Sometimes, whole teams decide that they would prefer a different learning environment," Ciel said, "although that is rare, but it does speak to a strong bond between the teams concerned when it happens. In any case, the reason why the form requires an explanation is to confirm to the satisfaction of both headmasters that this request is not made frivolously, or to no good purpose."

Penny blinked. "Does that mean people get refused their requests?"

"Sometimes," Rainbow said, "but don't worry about that; that won't be the sticking point for you."

"But," Penny murmured, "the good reasons that I have are ones that I can't say, aren't they?"

That was unfortunately true, Rainbow reflected; Professor Ozpin — who would be seeing this form just as much as General Ironwood — didn't even know that Penny was a robot, and even if they were going to tell him, which they weren't, her transfer papers were not exactly the right place to do it.

"Isn't it enough to say that Penny isn't happy at Atlas or with her team and that she wants to go to Beacon with her friends?" asked Twilight.

Rainbow stuck one hand out against the top bunks, leaning against them. "Hmm, I'm not sure that wanting to hang out with your friends is a good enough reason. Remember, we can tell General Ironwood what's really going on, but Professor Ozpin needs to be sold on what's written down here."

"The fact that Penny must conceal a little of her true nature does not mean she cannot tell the truth," Ciel murmured. "As you have phrased it, it seems inadequate, true, but to phrase it more … accurately … Penny, you should write down as your reason that you feel you have no friends at Atlas, you are desperately lonely, and feel as though only at Beacon will you be properly supported in your development as a huntress. That is the truth, is it not? That is how you feel?"

Penny hesitated, silent.

"You have been honest enough leading to this," Ciel prodded her. "It would be a fine thing to stop now."

Penny did not meet Ciel's eyes. "It's true. At least, I don't feel lonely, but … but I will if…"

"If you have to go back to Atlas," Rainbow muttered. She scowled, at herself far more than at anyone else in the room. "Yeah, when you put it like that, it does sound…" It sounds bad, and it makes us sound worse.

Of course, that being how Penny feels, we deserve to sound bad and feel worse.

"I'm sorry, Penny."

"It's okay," Penny said.

"No," Rainbow said, "it isn't. But Ciel's right; that will … Professor Ozpin won't question that. He might want to talk to you, to prove that you aren't exaggerating, but if he believes you, then he'll understand why you want to move over, and I think he won't hesitate to make the necessary arrangements, even if they are a bit inconvenient. And General Ironwood will … it'll help explain things to him as well."

Penny looked down at her scroll, then back at Rainbow and Ciel. "I don't want to get you in any trouble," she said softly. "That's not why I'm doing this."

"We know, Penny," Ciel said. "And that is … kind of you, and generous and … quite unnecessary. It will not come to that, and if it does, then as your assigned teammates, it is our duty, our last duty, to make this sacrifice for you." She drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Just as it always should have been."

The shadow of the Hope fell across the civilian skyliner as it made its way through sky and clouds towards Vale, its giant wings beating lazily up and down as it bore its human cargo through the air.

It was a little chilly out on the deck as summer was now very much drawing to a close and fall was closing in with a vengeance, but as she sat in a deck chair, with the breeze lightly ruffling her long black hair, Blake felt that, despite the cold, the view of the vast ocean spread out beneath them was worth it.

And she doubted that Weiss would have been out here with her if she hadn't felt the same way.

Or perhaps it was the solitude that she wanted; the chill in the air was driving most of the airship's passengers into the relative warmth of the interior, and they had the open deck all to themselves.

"You know," Weiss observed, as she leaned back in her soft, cloth chair, "I can't help feeling you're a little underdressed for the altitude."

Blake had changed back into her regular outfit, the black and white and … various parts of exposed skin. "My aura keeps me warm," she said. "Or at least, it stops me from catching anything from the cold." She smiled. "Or perhaps I ought to tell you that my zeal for Atlas keeps me warm."

Weiss groaned. "Please don't. You have the sincerity to pull off a ghastly line like that, which would be even worse than sarcasm." Weiss herself was dressed as she had been for the excursion down into Low Town, in her white coat and boots, with thick black stockings. She crossed her legs, leaving one booted foot kicking lightly at the air. "So you'll be headed north again soon enough?"

Blake nodded. "I will. I've decided."

"Have you filled in your transfer papers?"

"Not yet," Blake said, "but soon. I want to have them done before I land so that I can submit them promptly."

Weiss nodded. "And have you spoken to your teammates?"

Blake hesitated. "No," she admitted. "No, I … I haven't. They knew that I might, or probably would, decide this, but I haven't actually told them that I've made my decision. Do you think I should tell them before I submit?"

"Is there anything they could say that would change your mind?"

Blake shook her head. "No," she replied. "I don't even think they'd try."

"Then you don't need to wait," Weiss said, "but you should tell them as soon as possible after you submit the request; that's just good manners."

Perhaps it might have been good manners to have told them before now, Blake thought, if Sunset hasn't told them already. "I will," she said, "thank you."

Weiss shrugged. "It's nothing to me, of course, but if someone on my team were to depart, I should like to hear about it from them before they were headed out the door."

"Mmm," Blake murmured. "I possibly owe them an apology." She paused, brushing some of her hair out of her face and behind her back as she looked at Weiss. "Just like I owe you an apology, I feel."

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "What could you possibly owe me an apology for?"

"I … feel as though I've gotten you in trouble," Blake said.

Weiss' expression was as still as her body for a moment, and her body was still indeed, even her leg ceasing to kick the air. "You … you're a very curious person, in some ways," she said softly. "In many ways, even. The White Fang fighter who wants to join the Atlesian military, the huntress who never shrinks from a fight but whose semblance allows her constant escapes … the woman who exposed horrific malfeasance occurring under the auspices of the SDC and who is now worried about this is affecting the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company."

"What should I do," asked Blake, "instead of being worried about you?"

"Hate me?" Weiss suggested. "Other people will, I'm sure." She smirked. "Perhaps I should challenge someone to a duel to the death and that will make the people love me."

Blake snorted. "I'm not sure you have a valid target for that where you can reach them, and even if you did, I think that only works for Mistralians, and even then … not for all of them."

"No, Pyrrha isn't completely out of the woods, is she?" Weiss asked rhetorically. "It was still a ridiculous piece of nonsense though."

"Do you think so?" Blake asked.

"You don't think so?" responded Weiss.

"I think that if all our problems had a human face that we could battle and cut down, the world would be a simpler place," Blake said softly. "Don't you think?" She paused for a moment. "How are you doing?"

Weiss took a few seconds to respond. "I … I gave serious thought to whether or not I ought to go back to Beacon."

Blake's eyes widened. "Because … because of the reaction?"

"Not because I was afraid," Weiss declared emphatically. "I will not turn away from my ambitions because of the baying of a mob outside my window. I will fight for them whether they love me or hate me, no … no," she said again, more quietly. "It was for my brother that I thought about staying behind."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Blake murmured.

"Whitley," Weiss said. "He's fourteen. And there was a moment when everything came out when it seemed as if … as if things might fall apart completely."

"I'm sorry," Blake said.

"Sorry for what?" asked Weiss.

"Huh?"

"You said you were sorry," Weiss said, in a decidedly arch tone. "So: sorry for what, Blake?"

Blake hesitated, because of course there was nothing that she could legitimately apologise for, and Weiss knew it too. She couldn't say that she wished she hadn't helped Leaf, hadn't brought the labour camps to light, hadn't contributed to the rescue of all of those people. She didn't regret any of her actions, and so, her apology was … it was rather ridiculous, wasn't it?

"I … apologise for my empty sentiments," Blake said. "Although I do regret that this has impacted your life, even if I don't regret my part in the events that brought it on."

"I must admit, I haven't checked if we're still the richest family in the world," Weiss said. "Although I think the gap between us and the nearest competition is such that we'd have to fall quite a way to lose the crown."

"And you decided to come back to Beacon in the end," Blake pointed out.

"Yes," Weiss said. "I … things looked to be… stabilising. Father wasn't arrested, the share price stopped free-falling and even rallied just a little — or at least, it did before the strikes in Mantle started; now it's dropped again, if not as precipitously as it did the last time. It hasn't so far to fall — and I felt as if we weren't going to be turned out of our home any time soon. Whitley will be fine." She paused. "He should be fine."

"I…" Blake was about to say that she was sure he would be, but stopped herself; after all, she had no evidence of that, no way of knowing for sure, no reason to say so other than it was a commonplace.

The corners of Weiss' lips twitched up, then fell again. "The truth is, I didn't really want to stay," she admitted. "I seized the chance to say that Whitley would be okay, and then … I left him behind. Does that make me a terrible sister?"

"I don't know," Blake said. "I don't have any siblings. But I think … I don't think anyone has the right to blame you for wanting to live your own life, for not devoting it to the whims and wills of others."

"No," Weiss muttered. "My father didn't want me to go."

"No?"

"No," Weiss repeated. "He told me that we had to stand together as a family in this difficult time. I told him that if I did not go back, it might look as though we were afraid or ashamed, that we ought to carry on as though nothing had happened."

"And he accepted that?"

"At that point, he became a little distracted by the whole company seizing up like a sick man," Weiss explained, "and he stopped paying much attention."

"Will he give in to the strike?" asked Blake.

"Not willingly," Weiss said. "My father has … my father has prevented unionisation for many years. I can remember the failed attempts quite clearly. He will not give in if he can avoid it."

"I'm not so sure it can be avoided in this case," Blake murmured. "I'm guessing Mantle as a whole wasn't so up in arms before as it is now."

"No, and there wasn't so much public sympathy with their cause," Weiss replied. "You have … shocked Atlas."

"I'm glad," Blake said. "Atlas should be shocked by something like this. It demonstrates conscience."

"I … suppose so," Weiss replied. "I must say, it's a good thing that you are transferring to Atlas, or else … well, it would be a fine thing if Atlas' new darling wanted nothing more than to stay in Vale."

"I didn't set out to be anyone's darling," Blake murmured.

"Too bad for you then," Weiss said without much sympathy. Her tone softened as she went on, "Fame has its downsides, I admit, but it is preferable to infamy, as I may be about to discover for myself when we get back to Vale."

"Are you … worried?" asked Blake.

"No," Weiss said quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. She did not meet Blake's eyes as she said, "I have dealt with hostility in the past; I am … used to it, you might say. There is no discomfort I might suffer at Beacon that I cannot bear."

"I'm sure," Blake said, speaking softly so as to conceal the lack of conviction in her words. "But all the same, there will always be those amongst whom you will be safe. Including me, while I'm still here."

"While you're still here," Weiss mused, running her tongue over the words. "You may not have set out to become famous, but now that you have … you have a lever; I should make use of it, while you can, to push for the things that you want, the changes you want. That is not an opportunity to be put aside lightly, just because you're not comfortable in the spotlight. You have a voice—”

"I always had a voice."

"And now people will listen to it," Weiss said.

Blake supposed that she had a point there, as much as she might not like the fact.

"Everything is going to be different in Atlas," Weiss said. "And I mean that both for you and for the kingdom itself. Are you prepared for that?"

Prepared for what exactly? Blake didn't know for sure, and she suspected that Weiss couldn't say for sure either. But perhaps that was what she ought to be prepared for, for a change that she could not expect.

It will not all be unexpected. No, indeed; she had lived with these people, served with them, she had observed them in the field and in their homes. Not a perfect people, not a perfect kingdom; considerably imperfect in some regards, as they were only now waking up to. But a people with … a capacity for good. They could be a great people, they wished to be. One might say that they were a great people and could be greater still, as, again, they wished to be. They lacked … Blake would not be so vain as to claim that she could supply what they lacked, but she could help, she had no doubt of that.

She could help. She would help, and if she rose high enough, then she would be able to guide instead of merely helping, to guide the ship with all its power and majesty into more equitable waters.

They could be great. They had great power, and she would be a part of that power and also, being a part of it, share in it, have a hold of it, be able to call upon it.

Eventually be able to direct it.

With the help of her friends, she would not only protect this kingdom but shape it and, with fortune willing, leave it a brighter and a higher kingdom than she had found it, cleansed of some of the shadows that darkened its corners.

Of course, I've thought all this before.

"There was a time," she murmured, "when I thought that I — that we — could change the world. As part of the White Fang, with Adam by my side, we were going to bring down all corruption, end all inequality, make a better world. And then … you could describe what happened next a lot of different ways: I betrayed the White Fang, the White Fang betrayed my conscience, Adam betrayed me. And now … now, I stand poised to do it all again, with Rainbow Dash by my side." She chuckled. "Perhaps I'm just bad at learning lessons."

"Clearly, you don't actually believe that," said Weiss.

"No," Blake agreed. "No, I think that this time … things will be different. Things will be different, you're right about that … and I'm ready for whatever comes next."

Boots on the Ground (Rewritten)

Boots on the Ground

“So,” Sunset said, her voice raised a little to be heard over the sound of the engines outside, “how much of your new sword did you get a chance to use when you were here with Pyrrha last?”

“Not much,” Jaune replied, raising his own voice in turn. “The grimm didn’t stick around very long, and I didn’t get the chance to use more than, well, just the sword, really.”

Sunset grinned. “So this will be your first chance to use the new special features then.”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, I guess it will.” With his free hand — the one that he was not using to hold onto one of the grips that hung from the ceiling — he touched the hilt of Crocea Mors, the new hilt with the phial of dust, blue ice dust at present, set in the pommel like a precious stone. “I hope I can make good use of it.”

With her own free hand, Pyrrha reached out and touched his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

She had no doubt that he would do fine. In fact, she was looking forward to seeing how he performed with his new, improved weapon.

Considering how much he had improved already, his next step should be something to behold.

The engines of the Bullhead roared as it carried Team SAPR to their designated landing zone, a clearing a short trek from their first objective. They hadn’t had a huge amount of explanation yet as to the nature of the mission itself, but what they had been told made it seem quite straightforward: they were being set down as close to the objective as the terrain allowed, and they would have to make their way to two positions — a pair of security monitors, meant to alert Professor Ozpin to the activities of grimm within the Emerald Forest, which had both recently gone offline — one after the other. Killing any grimm they encountered along the way, obviously.

“Is it usual to be assigned missions while we’re on vacation?” Jaune asked.

“I mean, we’re still at school,” Ruby pointed out. “It’s not like we all left to go home.”

“It’s because we’re so awesome,” Sunset declared. “There’s no one else Professor Ozpin can rely on for anything.”

Pyrrha smiled a little, but said, “More likely, it is because so many students did go home. Blake, Weiss, and Flash haven’t returned from Atlas yet, and Team Bluebell … there are not many teams at full strength who could undertake this assignment. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that we’ve had to undertake a task while on vacation for lack of any other available hands.”

Sunset snorted. “Maybe, but my explanation sounds a lot better.”

Pyrrha smiled slightly and shook her head. Sunset’s mood had improved greatly since vacation began, the dark clouds that had hung about her head after the Breach having been banished by that mission she had undertaken with the Atlesians Trixie and Starlight — whom Pyrrha probably ought to thank for whatever they had done — with a brief lapse around the time of Pyrrha’s duel which, fortunately, had also passed. It was good to see her in good spirits, without a doubt; it was much preferable to melancholy — and she said that as someone who could be prone to melancholy herself — but at the same time, one could carry it to excess.

The Bullhead descended to just above the level of the trees, hovering over a small clearing at the base of a set of modest cliffs that, while not especially large, were nevertheless sheer enough that they formed a natural alleyway through the forest, a small valley where a path had been cut through the trees, although what the path was supposed to lead to on the other side, Pyrrha really couldn’t have said.

“I think this is where we get off,” Sunset said, before she became the first of the team to leap down from out of the Bullhead to the ground. Ruby followed, with Pyrrha and Jaune going last of all.

As her boots touched the ground, crunching the soil beneath her, Pyrrha pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her back, holding Miló in spear form while Akoúo̱ rested upon the vambrace on her arm.

Sunset checked — once again, having already checked before they got on the Bullhead — that all the chambers of Sol Invictus had a round in them. “Okay, is everybody ready?”

“Shield up, shoes tied,” Jaune said as he drew his sword and unfolded his sheath into a shield. “Ready to roll.”

Sunset grinned. “Okay. So, we didn’t get much of a briefing on this before we got here, but apparently,” — she pulled out her scroll, and unfolded it to reveal a map of the area — “the first security platform is about here, which doesn’t seem too far away. And Professor Port will be in contact if we have any questions. So for now, let’s just all enjoy a mission without Salem or Cinder or the White Fang or any of the other complications that we’ve had in our lives. Just the four of us, a place to go, and a bunch of grimm unlucky enough to get in our way. A nice, simple assignment.”

She hesitated. “Just the four of us, for…” She trailed off. “Have we ever had a mission that is just the four of us?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “No, I don’t believe we have.”

“Huh,” Sunset said. “That’s … huh. Okay then! Our first mission, as a team, on our own, nothing out of the ordinary to make things complicated or get in our way. Huntsman basics, piece of cake, let’s get it done!”

Ruby pumped one fist. “Let’s go Team Sapphire!”

Pyrrha led the way, down the little valley cut into the forest. Pots and amphorae as tall as she was or as broad as a creep littered the path and the trees on either side, overgrown with vines and half-obscured by bushes. She wondered idly what they had been used to hold — wine, olive oil, garum, something else altogether — and why they had simply been left here, abandoned in a forest like this.

I suppose it wasn’t a forest when it was abandoned.

But even so, why would they just leave so many things lying around like this?

The dirt path down which she had led the team surprised her by transforming into a paved road, covered with regular square stones that were slowly being worn away, more by the elements than by any regularity of foot traffic — at least as far as Pyrrha could see. She put her curiosity aside for a moment as she reached the edge of that road, which led to another cliff and another — much larger — drop down in the level of the land.

Below her was spread out a large flat basin of land, with a circular stone courtyard set in the centre of it and half-crumbled pillars and the remains of walls dotted here and there throughout, along with more of the abandoned urns and amphorae that Pyrrha had seen up above. All of the ruins were weathered, worn and overgrown as trees grew tall around the edges of the basin, and blue butterflies fluttered amongst the brightly coloured flowers which grew in clumps here and there.

None of which was anything like as important as the score or so of creeps sunning themselves lazily upon the stone courtyard, absorbing the heat both from the sun and the hot stone as their armour plates began to sizzle in the sunshine.

She could hear them making contented snuffling noises from here, but she knew that wouldn’t last long once Team SAPR descended amongst them.

“Get ready,” she murmured, as she knelt at the edge of the cliff. “Enemies nearby.”

Sunset knelt beside her. “So I see,” she said. “But I think we can take them. Hey, Jaune, now that you’ve got a bunch of cool new modes for your sword, why don’t you go down there by yourself and show us how it’s done?”

“Very funny,” Jaune said. “Ruby oughtta stay up here and give us covering fire.”

Sunset nodded. “Good call.”

Ruby unfolded Crescent Rose into its full and imposing length and used the blade of the scythe as a stand to brace it on the ground as she cocked the rifle and took aim. “You got it.”

“Okay then,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha, Jaune, let’s go.”

Ruby had fired the first shot as soon as Sunset leapt off the cliff, blowing a creep’s head clean off while Pyrrha and Jaune were still descending.

She shot a second one as the herd — or pack or swarm or whatever the technical term for a large group of creeps was called — was starting to wake up, growling and snarling as they picked themselves up and started to waddle towards their attackers, snapping their jaws and waggling their tails as they came.

When she was a very young girl, and her only experience of grimm had been pictures in books, it had been the creeps that had frightened Pyrrha the most; something about their heads, about the designs on their bone masks, about the way that they seemed crueller and more vicious than other grimm.

Now that she was a huntress in training and had some experience under her belt, she knew much better. They tore through the creeps, aided by Ruby’s excellently directed covering fire. Though more creeps sprang up from out of the ground all around them, though the grimm came for them in threes and fours, though the monsters vastly outnumbered them and sought to drive them apart and get them alone, nevertheless, the huntsmen shredded them and turned them all to ashes.

Once they had done so, when the grimm were all reduced to smoking corpses on the ground, Ruby was able to leap down from her cliff-top vantage point to rejoin the rest of the team.

“Nice work, students!” Professor Port’s jovial voice boomed out of the earpieces linked to their scrolls.

Despite the Breach, or perhaps because the threat to Vale proper had dissipated as a result of the Breach, most Valish huntsmen remained scattered across the small towns and villages that made up the periphery of the kingdom, leaving scant numbers to supervise students on missions. As a result, Professor Port was monitoring and supervising several teams — Team CFVY, for example, had just left on a mission of their own in the vicinity of Alexandria — remotely. In addition to the cameras distributed throughout the forest, Sunset was wearing a miniature camera on the lapel of her leather jacket that was allowing Professor Port to watch everything they did from his office at Beacon.

Professor Port went on, “Now, as you know, we’ve been having some trouble with the security network in this area. We need boots on the ground to investigate. That means you, team. Onward!”

Pyrrha had switched Miló into sword form as the battle went on, and it became close work to deal with the creeps, but now she shifted it back into spear form as she looked around. “You know, it’s almost a pity that we have to fight in a place like this.”

She turned in place, looking all around her, taking in the walls and the columns, the courtyard of stone on which the grimm had rested to take advantage of late — very late; the weather would take a turn to the chilly soon, without doubt — summer sunshine; at the basin mouth, leading out towards their objective, the skeleton of what had once been some kind of stone arch stood; there had been an inscription engraved upon it once, but time had worn it away to such an extent that Pyrrha couldn’t read it. In the grass, she could see the remains of a mosaic showing the hunt for a monstrous wild boar, not a boarbatusk, but an actual boar, albeit one of enormous size and probably unusual ferocity as well; one of the columns was carved with images of feasts and hunts and parties.

“These ruins are so beautiful.” She sighed, a sigh that had in it both appreciation and a sense of the forlorn that such beauty had descended into ruin.

“Ah, yes,” Professor Port declared, in that voice he had that would have done very well on the stage had he chosen a different destiny. “The Emerald Forest is filled with the ruins of ancient kingdoms. Keep an eye out for artefacts. Doctor Oobleck is always looking to expand Beacon’s collection.”

“Then perhaps Doctor Oobleck should have come out here himself,” Sunset said. “I’m keeping this.”

Pyrrha looked around. Sunset stood by the base of a tree and seemed to have found something by the roots which she was currently holding in her hand. Actually, on slightly closer inspection — as Pyrrha took a couple of steps closer towards her team leader — it turned out to be two somethings. Two chess pieces, both white, a knight and a pawn both carved out of some kind of horn or bone. The knight had a tiny red amethyst for an eye and a socket on the other eye hole to show where a second amethyst would have gone; the pawn, fashioned like a foot soldier rather than the more abstract representations of modern chess, was biting the top of his shield, the slightly manic look on his face providing some explanation for why he might want to do such a thing. Though they were both quite badly knocked around and had obviously seen better days, there was nevertheless something quite charming about the pair of them.

“Cool, huh?” Sunset said as she slipped them both into her jacket pocket.

“If you like old stuff, I guess,” Jaune said.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s … that’s all that it is now, isn’t it? Old stuff.”

“Pyrrha?” Jaune asked. “Are you okay?”

Pyrrha looked around once again, at the arch and the columns and the crumbling wall of stone, at the mosaic and the courtyard and all the rest. “What do you think this place was? Who do you think built it? And what do you think happened to them?”

“I … I couldn’t say,” Ruby admitted. “I don’t pay too much attention in history class.”

“That wouldn’t help anyway, Oobleck’s classes focus on modern history,” Sunset said. “I…” She took a step back, and seemed to be quite intently framing everything in her head. “Do you think … a palace?”

“'A palace'?” Jaune said.

“Yeah,” Sunset said, and as she spoke, she clapped her hands together and a wave of green light spread out from her body, engulfing the entire basin and clearing away all the remaining detritus of their battle with the grimm as she conjured ghostly, ethereal images from out of the air and from her own imaginings: the columns repaired and completed, set above with a high vaulted ceiling painted with images of winged figures dancing amongst the clouds; a raised dais where she had found the chessmen, where the high lords and ladies sat and ate and talked and, yes, played chess; a throne for the king, and petitioners kneeling before him in the stone circle. Rows of tables leading to the archway at the end of the basin.

“Wow,” Ruby murmured.

“I’ve got no proof, obviously,” Sunset said as she pried her hands apart and the vision faded from their sight. “But it could be. It would be cool if it was.”

“And a little dispiriting,” Pyrrha said. “If this was a king’s hall … who now remembers the king or the kingdom? Who now remembers what this place was? Whatever this place was, it is now nothing more than a forgotten ruin.” Her brow furrowed for a moment. “Is that what is to become of all of us, in the end? Will Beacon, Vale, and Mistral all fall to ruin and all that we did to protect them be forgotten?”

Sunset sat down on one of the crumbling columns. “Our very names erased, until none remember how bravely we fought.”

“Or how fiercely we loved,” Pyrrha whispered.

“What a dispiriting thought to bring up,” Sunset said. “I would dearly love to say that it’s impossible, that we will do deeds of such magnificent grandeur that they will endure in the memory of man while man has a memory … but I’m sure whoever used to live here thought the same thing.”

“Does it matter?” Jaune asked.

Sunset looked at him. “Of course it matters. What’s the point of being a hero if nobody remembers that you were one?”

“As long as we help people, then those people will remember what we did,” Jaune replied.

“Until they’re dead.”

“Yeah, but by then we’ll be dead as well, so … so what?”

“It’s not about memory, it’s about…” Pyrrha paused, trying to find the right words to explain herself to him. “If Vale and Mistral and all four kingdoms are fated to fade out of memory and us with them … if we leave nothing behind us, then what have we done?”

“We’ve helped people,” Ruby said. “We’ve saved lives. We’ve hunted things. We’ve had some amazing adventures together, and we’re still having them. No one can take that away from us, even if they forget all about all of it.”

“Then you’d be fine with the idea that one day, a couple of thousand years from now, someone is poking through the ruins of the dining hall at Beacon and trying to work out what it was?” Sunset said. “Or looking at a piece of wall and wondering what dork decided to carve S-A-P-R on the wall and why?”

“Sure,” Ruby said. “I mean, at least it would mean there was someone around to look and wonder, right? So long as humanity doesn’t get wiped out by the grimm, or Salem, then it’s fine that nobody cares about Beacon anymore, or that they don’t remember what it was … so long as it means that something better came along. Maybe it means they don’t even need huntsmen anymore.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes, I suppose no one can argue with that, can they?”

Ruby nodded, and then suddenly began to giggle. “Guys, I just got it.”

“Got what?” Sunset asked.

“What if,” Ruby said, stifling more giggles. “What if this whole place was the cafeteria of a school?”

There was a moment of silence before everybody started laughing. It wasn’t that funny, and it was historical nonsense, but the sudden injection of the image into her dour thoughts very nearly had Pyrrha in stitches, and the basin rang with the sounds of their laughter for a good few moments until everybody calmed down.

“Thank you, Ruby,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you very much.”

Sunset got up. “And now, keeping an eye for any more artefacts for our collection — I mean Beacon’s collection — we should probably keep moving.”

They continued on, fighting their way past another group of creeps that had joined up with a few immature young beowolves to assist them in the struggle for survival. It didn’t help as much as they might have hoped.

“I have to say, Professor,” Pyrrha said, “it doesn’t appear that the problems with the security system have allowed a major breach in this sector.”

“Hmm, you have a point, Miss Nikos,” Professor Port said. “We’ve been fortunate that no more dangerous grimm have appeared to take advantage of the lack of early warning.”

“Or just the normal ones that roam around here,” Sunset said. “When we did that exercise last semester — the one where I got paired with Arslan and Ruby with Blake and then everything went wrong with all of those grimm — we had nevermores and ursai—”

“And that cyclops that went after poor Twilight,” Pyrrha added.

Sunset nodded. “And Arslan had some trouble with a pretty weird grimm too.”

“You’ve got a point,” Jaune said. “Flash and I had to run from way worse than we’re seeing here.”

“Uh-huh,” Sunset said. “So where are they now? Why are we only meeting a few creeps and young beowolves?”

“Don’t question your good fortune too much, Miss Shimmer, or it may desert you,” Professor Port cautioned. “Now, you’re almost there. Up ahead, you’ll find a wooden bridge leading into a cave. That’s where the security control centre is located.”

They did indeed find a bridge, if you could call a few planks laid out haphazardly over a chasm a bridge. Nevertheless, they crossed it, however much it rattled as they pounded over the wooden boards, and passed through the cave that they found on the other side.

Dust crystals, growing like stalagmites and stalactites out of the cavern walls, glowed fluorescent blue, illuminating the cave in azure shades; in fact, they provided so much illumination that whoever had installed the security system had felt no need to put in any other lights. The security centre itself was … well, it was … Pyrrha was having a hard time describing it, to be perfectly honest; it was a metal tube on four legs, but she couldn’t really say more because she had no idea what all the bits and pieces were or what they were called. It just wasn’t her area of expertise.

“Right,” Sunset said, folding her arms. “Now, I do know a little bit about computers and coding, but at the same time, I can’t help but feel it might have been a good idea to have brought an expert with us … unless you know how this works, Ruby?”

“Sorry,” Ruby said, “I prefer my mechanics to come with grease involved.”

“Miss Shimmer,” Professor Port said, “I’m afraid the cameras in this cave that monitor this monitoring station have all gone offline, so I’m going to have to ask you to face the listening post straight ahead.”

Sunset turned away from Ruby and faced the device once again, standing very still, back straight, hands clasped behind her back.

“Better, Professor?” she asked.

“Much better, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Port replied. “Hmm, it doesn’t appear to have been damaged by grimm in any way; rather, there seems to have been a foreign object placed on the sensor.”

“You mean that red box with the M on it?” Sunset said, gesturing with one hand to the object in question. It was, as she had said, a box, a rather shallow box, rectangular in shape, with a red border and an equally red, somewhat stylised M upon it.

Sunset went on, “I didn’t see anything like it on the pictures of these monitoring stations I looked at before we got on the Bullhead.”

“Quite so, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Port said. “That was not there when the station was installed in the forest. Someone has added it since, and I’ll wager that it’s that device, whatever it may be, that is blocking the signals that this sensor should be transmitting to Beacon.”

“So,” Jaune said, “if we take it off, will that fix the problem?”

“What if there’s a bomb inside?” Ruby asked. “Or maybe if we just rip it off, it’ll short out the monitoring station? We could make things worse.”

“Miss Shimmer, if you pull the red lever on the side of the listening post directly in front of you, a control panel will reveal itself,” Professor Port said.

Sunset approached the monitoring station, pulling the lever that Professor Port had indicated. The panel directly in front of her flipped down, revealing a keyboard on the other side with a monitor above.

“Excellent, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Port said. “Now, if you insert your scroll into that dock on the right hand side just above the keyboard, I can upload a repair diagnostic from here that should restore connectivity without the risk of anything untoward occurring if you try and remove that foreign object.”

“You’re a computer expert, Professor?” Sunset asked, getting out her scroll and plugging it in.

Professor Port chuckled. “No, Miss Shimmer, but I do know how to press a button. You know, I’m sure I’ve seen that M symbol somewhere before.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You know, Professor, now that you mention it, I think I—”

The roar of a beowolf echoed into the cave.

“Never mind that now. It sounds like you’ve got company,” Professor Port said, sounding rather pleased to hear it.

“So it would seem, Professor,” Sunset muttered. “Okay, they’re only coming from one direction, so—” Before she could finish, more roars started coming from the other entrance into the cave. “Me and my big mouth. Right, both ways it is: Jaune, Pyrrha, take the back; Ruby, you and I have got the front.”

Pyrrha silently took up her position facing the southwest entrance, nearly opposite the way that they had used to enter the cave. The entrance way was narrow, which would surely help. She switched Miló into rifle mode and raised it to her shoulder, resting her barrel on her shield.

She heard Ruby and Sunset start to fire — the deep booming thunder of Crescent Rose alternating with the higher staccato crack of Sol Invictus — a moment before the first beowolf stuck its head into the cave for Pyrrha to blow said head off.

She’d momentarily forgotten that she wasn’t the only member of their partnership with some ranged capability anymore when she saw the blasts of white ice dust flying past her shoulder as Jaune tried to support her. His aim was poor, but that wasn’t really his fault; it was Pyrrha’s opinion that most swords were terrible to try and aim with on account of wrist movement.

“Jaune, wait until they’ve broken out of the corridor,” Pyrrha said. While the chokepoint was useful, once they broke out of it, they would do so in such a mass that they would be impossible to miss.

These beowolves were older and more experienced than the young adolescents they had come across with the creeps; they were larger, they had more armour on their bodies, and the spurs of bone protruding from the black were larger and sharper; and they were smart enough to have been able to work out that there were two ways into the cave and to launch a coordinated pincer movement. But they were limited by the nature of the entrances themselves, which enabled Pyrrha to empty two magazines into them before they broke out into the cavern proper. As they poured out into the cave, Jaune opened fire again, glowing white balls of ice dust hitting the grimm as they flooded out in such a dense black mass that he could hardly miss.

Pyrrha stayed close beside him, switching Miló into sword mode rather than spear as the grimm came closer, because it didn’t require as much room for her to move as the spear and she wasn’t sure that she would have that movement. She slashed left and right as she took the blows on her shield and lashed out with it to stun the grimm before delivering the coup de grace. Her aim, besides killing the grimm, was to make sure that Jaune never had to face more than a single beowolf at a time; had they been younger and weaker, then she might not have been so determined, but these were older grimm, larger, stronger, their bones cracked and their bodies scarred with many battles. Jaune might be stronger now, and he might have better weapons now, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be in big trouble if he were mobbed by four or five experienced beowolves converging on him from all sides.

He did well against one beowolf after another, while Pyrrha covered his back and his flanks and ensured that he never had to fight more than one at a time.

Curiously, some of these beowolves appeared to have been in a battle quite recently: their armour was freshly cracked, they had new wounds on their black hides, and some of them were even missing forelimbs. Pyrrha tucked the question of who could have done this and why SAPR hadn’t known that another team of huntsmen were in the area away for when the battle was done.

The alpha beowolf came last, when most of its pack had been slaughtered already, crouching through the stone passage and emerging into the cave with a roar.

Pyrrha threw her shield at it, striking it between the eyes — between its eye and where the other eye should have been, at least/ it had a scar and a crack in its mask and no second burning orb — and causing the monster to recoil backwards, seemingly stunned.

Pyrrha didn’t wait for it to recover; instead, she made a flying leap that carried her through the air, Miló shifting to spear as she flew before she buried it in the alpha’s neck. She pulled it out with the help of her semblance, landing on the ground and pirouetting in place to deliver a series of slashing blows across the grimm’s belly. A kick to the chest and a shot to the face were enough to finish it off before it could recover.

Another victory, she thought as she landed. “You did well, Jaune,” she said. “Good work.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ve still got nothing on you, though.”

“Give it time,” she told him.

Sunset and Ruby had dealt with all of their opponents by now, and Professor Port had finished recalibrating the control centre.

“I’ll get some of our staff to see if they can find out anything about that symbol,” he said. “In the meantime, you should proceed to your second objective. Excellent work so far, team; keep it up.”

Sunset frowned. “I really feel as though I’ve seen that M before as well. Does anyone remember that?”

“No,” Ruby said. “Sorry.”

“Did anyone else think that those grimm seemed like they’d been in a recent battle?” Pyrrha asked. “They had wounds that looked almost fresh. Professor, are there any other huntsmen operating in this area right now? Or recently?”

“No, Miss Nikos, the last person to enter this area in the past month was you for your little encounter with Miss Fall,” Professor Port said. “If there is someone out there hunting grimm in the Emerald Forest, they’re unknown to us. If you find them, congratulate them on their bravery; it takes true grit to venture into a grimm-infested forest and hunt the enemies of mankind without anyone being aware of the fact.”

“That’s assuming they’re still alive when we find them,” Sunset muttered. “It might be brave, but that doesn’t make it smart.”

They didn’t find any rogue huntsman or team of huntsmen battling grimm in the area on their own account. More to the point, once they exited the cave and proceeded through the verdant eaves of the forest, they didn’t find much in the way of grimm either. A couple of boarbatusks lurked amidst another cluster of ancient ruins, dwelling amidst the debris of a kingdom so ancient that even its name had vanished from the history books, but that was it. Other than those two creatures, whom they dealt with swiftly, the Emerald Forest — or at least this part of it — was devoid of the monsters who made it their home. Not devoid of life, certainly — butterflies fluttered above the flowers while bees buzzed past them; flies seemed drawn to the huntsmen as they made their way down the old dirt pathways; squirrels darted up the trees and across their path more than once — but devoid of grimm in a way that was remarkable, and remarkably disconcerting in some ways. Pyrrha began to wonder if there was some very old and intelligent grimm stalking them, waiting for them to enter some kind of fiendish trap.

This foreboding feeling stayed with her as they emerged into more ruins, some kind of wide building — another palace, perhaps? Or another dining hall? — overlooking the cliff edge. It was a true cliff this time — Pyrrha didn’t want to try and guess how long the drop was — and the presence of stone railings suggested that whoever had raised the house — of which only a interconnected stone archways and a couple of stone roof beams remained — had built it so that they could come out onto the wide balcony and look out across the magnificent vista.

Jaune whistled. “Quite a view, huh?”

“Echo!” Ruby yelled as loud as she could and beamed as her own voice was hurled back at her from below.

It was a view, to be sure: the tall tower, like the tower in which The Girl in the Tower had been imprisoned by her cruel father, rising up from out of the sea of trees; the winding river that cut through the landscape and the mountains that nestled along the river’s bank large enough but at the time mere foothills to the truly mighty peaks that lay beyond; the ancient trees that grew so tall that they were almost reaching the balcony where SAPR stood, their leaves rustling in the gentle summer breeze.

It was a beautiful view, and yet, Pyrrha found that her ability to appreciate it was being hampered by this sense of wrongness.

“Does it seem too quiet to anyone else?” she asked.

Sunset turned away from the view and leaned upon the ancient balcony rail. “I know what you mean, but if the grimm were waiting for their moment, how come they haven’t reached it yet?”

“Because they know there’s a better place waiting?” Pyrrha suggested. “And is there an alternative?”

“There really aren’t that many grimm around here,” Ruby suggested. “It could happen.”

“Whichever the answer is, we won’t find it here,” Sunset said. “If there is an ambush waiting, then we’ll deal with it, just like we’ve dealt with everything else fate has thrown our way.”

As they moved a little further on, to an old stone bridge from ages past, the chances of an ambush decreased a little in Pyrrha’s eyes as they came across the residue of a battle, quite possibly the same battle that had given those beowolves the injuries that had perturbed her earlier.

But it was not a battle against huntsmen, but against robots, robots of a kind that she had never seen before — after enough time around the Atlesians, she could tell the difference between the various kinds of androids they employed, and these robots were none of those — robots that had been left in pieces strewn across the stone road that led to the bridge and to the bridge itself. Some of the robots were red, some were white, and all of them — and Pyrrha proved this by levitating a cluster of different parts into something that resembled what one of the robots might have looked like intact — were larger than a man by a considerable degree. She and Jaune were the tallest members of the team, and yet, these robots were about twice their size. She’d never heard of giant androids before.

Ruby folded Crescent Rose away and tucked it behind her back as she picked up a gun that one of the destroyed androids had left behind. She cooed over it as he turned it over in her hands, always pointing the large barrel down towards the ground while her fingers ranged over the weapon, searching for something.

“Ah, here it is,” Ruby declared triumphantly as she did something that caused a blocky ammunition drum to eject from the back of the gun, followed shortly after by a tube of some description.

“Woah,” Ruby said. “Guys, I think this is a combined rotary cannon and grenade launcher! That is so cool! Only…”

“What?” Sunset asked.

“Who’d give a robot a gun this neat?” Ruby asked. “Atlas only gives theirs the basic rifles, right? This … I dunno, I could see a huntsman with a gun like this.”

“Perhaps it belonged to a huntsman,” Jaune suggested. “One huntsman using robots to back themselves up.”

“There’s no sign of them,” Sunset said. She knelt down on the bridge amidst the android components. “So, here’s what I think happened. These robots are sent to hunt down grimm. We can’t say why, but why else would they be here? And they do so, they cleanse the area of grimm; that’s why we haven’t seen that many of them around. Until they come across a pack of beowolves; these beowolves are old and experienced, and they’re able to outwit the droids and take them out, but not without cost. Those are the same ones that attacked us; that’s why they were wounded.”

“Makes sense,” Jaune said. “But doesn’t explain why anyone would sabotage the security systems.”

“I never said that I had all the answers,” Sunset said as she rose to her feet. “Maybe we’ll find them further along.”

The evidence — or rather, the continued lack of any grimm presence to spoil the virgin countryside — seemed to bear out Sunset’s hypothesis as they headed towards their second objective, another control centre. This one was placed atop a raised stone platform that must have served quite a different purpose back when this place was a flourishing city. Pyrrha couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to everyone who had once lived here and why they had all abandoned their homes in this way. Had the grimm overrun the place? It was hard to see what else could have caused a whole sprawling city to be abandoned like this.

Upon the ground sat several large cages, each one big enough to hold an ursa in them if required to do so, with wire meshing in between the glass or plastic of the walls and that same elaborate M symbol stamped upon them as they had seen upon the object that had, so they assumed, been interfering with the monitoring station.

Pyrrha further assumed that these cages were not part of the usual aesthetic of this part of the forest.

“Cages?” Ruby asked. “Was someone trying to capture grimm? But everyone knows that grimm don’t survive long in captivity.”

“I don’t know about that, but I know where I’ve seen that symbol before!” Sunset yelled as she pulled out her scroll. “Blake!”

“The symbol belongs to Blake?” Ruby asked.

“No,” Sunset said, “but Blake’s been on a few adventures up in Atlas; she hasn’t just destabilised the SDC and threatened to dry up the dust supply.”

She opened up her scroll and began to scroll through the various options. “Faunus were being kidnapped, and I don’t know why I didn't remember this until now. She sent me some pictures; here, look at these.”

She held out her scroll to Ruby, who took it from her unprotesting hands. Pyrrha and Jaune gathered around, looking over Ruby’s shoulders as she scrolled through images of robots that looked exactly like the robots whose remains they had found on the other side of the bridge.

And bearing that same M symbol upon their chests.

“The same robots we saw in pieces,” Ruby said.

“The robots were doing the kidnapping,” Sunset replied, nodding her head. “Blake, Rainbow, Weiss, they fought them to stop the kidnappings and rescue everyone.”

“Kidnapping faunus in Atlas, now capturing grimm in Vale,” Pyrrha said. “Why? What’s the connection? Who does the symbol belong to?”

“Something called Merlot Industries,” Sunset said. “According to what Blake told me, they were a company started in Vale about twenty years ago or so; they were based in Mountain Glenn, but when the city fell … everyone died, and the company folded. They hadn’t been doing so well beforehand.“

“Students, I couldn’t help but overhear,” the voice Professor Port boomed into their ears. “Indeed, I’ve just had a report that confirms much of what Miss Shimmer has just told you.”

“But thank you for bringing the Atlas connection to my attention, Miss Shimmer; I had forgotten,” added Professor Ozpin, his voice a new presence into their ears.

It appears he is as adept at appearing on the line as he is in person.

“Professor Ozpin?” Sunset asked.

“Indeed. I’m afraid that I must make a request of the four of you: given the Merlot Industries connection, it makes sense to continue the investigation into this mystery in Mountain Glenn, and given your experience there … I am sorry to ask this of you.”

“It’s alright, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “We’ll go and get to the bottom of this, won’t we?” she asked, looking at her teammates.

“Sure we will,” Ruby said.

“I kind of want to find out the answers to all this,” Jaune said.

Sunset hesitated. Her ears drooped, and so too did her tail; it hung limply down between her legs. If the colour had faded from her hair somewhat, Pyrrha would not have been greatly surprised by it. She did not look straight at any of her teammates; rather, her eyes darted between and past them, in the spaces where they were not.

“I … I’m not sure,” she murmured.

“Sunset,” Ruby said, “we have to go. Who else can do this, if not us?”

“Someone else,” Sunset said sharply. “Anyone else.”

“No one else is going to be as good as us,” Ruby said. “No one else knows Mountain Glenn like we do.”

That might be the problem, Pyrrha thought. Certainly, it was the best reason she could come up with for why all of Sunset’s pep and vigour from the beginning of the mission had deserted her.

“That doesn’t mean—”

“And after the Breach, there won’t be many grimm left in the city, will there?” Jaune added. “So it should be a lot easier than it was the last time.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured. “Perhaps—”

“I don’t get what the problem is,” Ruby demanded. “We have a job to do; we can’t just turn back because we don’t feel like it—”

“Ruby,” Pyrrha said. “Look.”

Sol Invictus was trembling in Sunset’s hands. Her whole body was shaking, in fact, as though it had grown suddenly very cold, far colder than it was here. She was gasping for breath, taking great gulps of air as though she’d eaten something that she was allergic to, her chest straining against her cuirass as if the metal was restraining her like a corset tied too tight.

Ruby stopped, her silver eyes widening. “Sunset? Sunset … what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Are you…?” Jaune trailed off before he could finish asking ‘are you okay,’ presumably because he could recognise the question would be redundant.

Pyrrha approached Sunset slowly, carefully, as though her team leader were some kind of lost animal who might, if not approached with caution, take flight and bolt into the unknown, never to be seen again.

Pyrrha slung her weapons across her back and held out her hands on either side of her, so that Sunset — if she was still able to notice such things and was not so lost in panic that the ability to do so had deserted — could see that they were open and empty.

Pyrrha’s footfalls were light upon the ancient stone as she reached Sunset and, with both hands, gently reached out towards her.

“It’s alright, Sunset,” she whispered, her voice soft and soothing, like a cool breeze on a balmy afternoon. Carefully, she plucked Sol Invictus out of Sunset’s hands and bent her knees down to gently lay it on the ground.

Sunset hardly seemed to notice. Her hands remained where they had been, as though they still held the weapon, but they trembled as much or more than they had done before.

Pyrrha rose once more to her full height and once more reached for Sunset. “It’s alright,” she repeated as she took Sunset’s hands once more in hers. “I’m here.” She clasped Sunset’s hands together; enfolding them in the embrace of her palms, she could feel the trembling in Sunset’s hands like tremors as they shook within her grasp. “We’re all here, Sunset.”

Sunset managed to look at Pyrrha. Her eyes were wide, and again, Pyrrha was reminded of some distressed creature, poised upon the precipice of flight.

Pyrrha looked straight into her eyes as she held Sunset’s hands within hers.

“There is nothing to fear, Sunset,” she whispered. “I promise you that.”

Sunset stared up at her, and though her eyes remained wide, her breathing began to ease up a little, and she did not shake up.

Pyrrha smiled at her, a reassuring smile she hoped, and a warm one too, then turned her head away for a moment. “Professor, I’m sorry, but I don’t think—”

“We’ll go,” Sunset declared, her voice hoarse as though her throat had been coated with phlegm.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Sunset?”

“We’ll go,” Sunset repeated. “We will go to Mountain Glenn. I…” She closed her eyes. “I will not have it said I was afraid.”

Sunset. Pyrrha was not at all certain that this was a good idea, not least because it was manifestly clear that Sunset was afraid, although whether she was afraid of anything that existed in the world or simply in her own heart and mind was something she would not speak to with such certainty. Nevertheless, she was afraid, and she did not want to go to Mountain Glenn.

And so, that being the case, to venture there for pride seemed to her to be folly.

Yet Sunset’s pride now drove her on.

Just as mine drove me. That thought stayed Pyrrha’s tongue. Sunset had had misgivings about some of her recent actions, misgivings that she had entirely failed to keep to herself, and yet, in the end, she had acquiesced. She had put them aside for Pyrrha’s sake, recognising Pyrrha’s desire — her need — to confront Cinder.

Perhaps Sunset now needed to return to Mountain Glenn, much though she clearly did not wish to do so.

Therefore, that being so, Pyrrha … Pyrrha was obliged to hold her peace and acquiesce, just as Sunset had; no, better, she would keep her misgivings better hidden than Sunset had.

I will watch you and take care of you, but I will do so in quiet.

“Are you quite certain, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said forcefully, though the force might as well have been directed against herself as at Professor Ozpin. “We will go, if it is needed.”

“Very well then,” Professor Ozpin said, his own voice quiet and a little solemn. “I will have a Bullhead loaded with supplies and sent to your location.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset murmured. She sighed. To Pyrrha, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Pyrrha said, just as softly and as gently, as she released Sunset’s hands and took a step back.

Sunset looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them for a second or two before she let them fall down at her sides. Her ears pricked up a little as she looked up, sweeping her gaze across Jaune and Ruby. “So, what was that I was saying about a nice, straightforward mission?”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Mostly some continuity tidy-ups in this chapter by way of changes, with the biggest one being that Pyrrha is in a better frame of mind for the most part, but the big addition here is that, while Sunset previously took the idea of return to Mountain Glenn very much in stride, here she completely freaks out about it and has a panic attack, which felt more true to what Mountain Glenn represents to Sunset, about what happened to her the last time that she was there, about the way that the entire team almost died and only didn't die because of something that Sunset remains deeply conflicted out.

And then she decides to go back anyway out of sheer stubborn pride, because of course she does.

Return to the City of the Dead (Rewritten)

Return to the City of the Dead

The return to Mountain Glenn was far less welcome than the return to the Emerald Forest had been. The forest possessed a beauty to it that was wholly lacking from the city of the dead, and absent the grimm, the Emerald Forest would have been a bright, vibrant, beautiful place, the perfect place to spend a pleasant afternoon, to walk in the woods with Jaune, perhaps.

There was nothing beautiful about Mountain Glenn. Even absent the grimm, it was still nothing more than a vast tomb that was slowly crumbling under the assault of the elements and uncaring time.

Pyrrha had not greatly enjoyed coming here the first time, and she doubted that she would find the return much more pleasant.

This place was a monument to the hubris of men and the destructive power of the grimm. It was a place of death and decay where the streets were interrupted by barricades and the ruins of rusting cars and bushes; a place where the buildings were scarred by battle and where the walls had been holed by the grimm smashing through them.

It was a place that seemed to mock them all.

As the ruins in the Emerald Forest, the dead bones of a forgotten kingdom had seemed to mock the efforts of mankind, so too the ruins of Mountain Glenn — and if anything was going to become a forgotten ruin like those in the forest, it was certainly this city, which had already been abandoned and was even now starting to be reclaimed by nature — seemed to mock the efforts of huntsmen and huntresses more specifically.

Here she was, a long scarlet sash hanging from her waist, a circlet gleaming on her brow, wearing armour that was both supposed to protect her and to please the audience watching her fights on pay-per-view; what was it all worth, in the face of this death and devastation and destruction? She had vowed to defend humanity, but what was that vow worth when confronted with the dead bodies they had seen in the police station in the underground city? Many huntsmen and huntresses had defended Mountain Glenn, and every one of them had pledged themselves life, body, and soul to defend mankind just as she and her friends had done, but all those huntsmen had failed and fallen, and the city had been lost with all of its attendant bloodshed.

Pyrrha’s prodigious skill at arms, her sense of destiny, her belief that she had been blessed with great ability in order that she might accomplish some great thing in the world, her desire to protect humanity, her wish to protect her friends who had brought so much new light into her life … Mountain Glenn mocked all of these ambitions. Every shattered window, every open door gaping like a mouth, every darkened building standing like a tomb, everything about this city clad in mourning mocked her for a fool.

Give up, it seemed to say, with a thousand voices carried on the wind. Give up your vain efforts and your vainer hopes. Turn your back and run away.

Pyrrha slapped her own cheeks with both hands, feeling a stinging sensation even through her aura. She could not think like this. She would not allow herself to think like this; she did not have the luxury of self doubt, not at this time, not when Sunset…

Sunset was standing a few feet away from the rest of them, staring at the ruins that confronted them. Her back was to Pyrrha, but by the limpness of Sunset’s tail, Pyrrha doubted that she was going to see any great confidence in Sunset’s expression when she turned around.

Sunset had agreed to come back here, Sunset had seemed to force herself to come back here, but at the same time, it was clear — to Pyrrha at least, and probably to Jaune and Ruby as well — that their leader was far from comfortable with this.

It would probably be an exaggeration to say that any of them were comfortable with this, but Sunset appeared the most discomfited of all.

Sunset was not only their inspiration, but also their confidence; Sunset always knew the right words to say to banish fear and doubt. She was not without those things, she did not pretend to be without them, but at the same time, when the moment came, she could appear to put them away, in a box within her soul where they would not trouble her.

And she always knew the words to say to Pyrrha, to make her feel better when a bout of melancholy was upon her.

But now Sunset was the one who was sorely oppressed, weighed down by the ghosts of this place.

We should not have come here.

Who else could have undertaken the duty? Team YRBN, without Blake? Team BLBL, who were nowhere close to being our equals even when they were four strong?

Are we four strong now?

Sunset is … Sunset believed in me when I was being selfish; I must believe in her now when she is acting … unwisely perhaps, but in a good cause.

I must believe … and I must be strong.

That was the point. That was why she could not allow Mountain Glenn to oppress her with all that it represented; that was why she could not take its whispers to heart. Because Sunset seemed to be doing quite enough of that already, and in her absence, it would fall to Pyrrha to be the strong one, to be strong for Sunset, strong for Jaune — strong for Ruby too perhaps, but Ruby seemed far less in need of strength than any of her teammates.

She could not falter now, for if she did, there would be no one to pick her up again.

I defy you, Mountain Glenn. I deny you and defy you. I say that you have no power over me. I have triumphed over Cinder Fall! I have seen the enemy’s greatest champion flee in terror of my arms!

Why should I fear your ghosts after such a victory?

You say that I alone, with all my skill, could not save a city such as this. True, I know it well enough. But I am not alone. I can do much, and we can do more, and I alone, or we alone, are not here to save a city such as this, but to do things that I, that we, can very easily do.

And you will not prevent us.

“I really thought we were done with Mountain Glenn,” Ruby groaned.

“It isn’t looking any better the second time around,” Jaune agreed.

Pyrrha frowned. On the one hand, it was good to know that they all shared at least some of her feelings, but on the other, those were perhaps not the feelings that were good to have at the beginning of a mission.

Sunset had once written Pyrrha a letter, a letter that Pyrrha was only intended to read in the event of Sunset’s death but which she had happened to read much sooner, thanks to Sunset’s choice of where to hide said letter.

It was a letter in which Sunset had very generously given Pyrrha her voice in the choice of who should lead the team in the event of Sunset’s death.

Sunset was not dead now, thank goodness, far from it, but nevertheless…

Nevertheless, it seemed to Pyrrha that she was not quite capable of exercising her leadership as she might have been in other places, other locations.

Which meant…

How does that speech format go?

“We’ve been here before,” she said. “Obviously, you remember that as well as I do. And it’s true that there are dangers lurking within these streets — and beneath them. We should not expect all the grimm in Mountain Glenn to have died assaulting Vale, nor that no new packs or herds or whatever the correct term for that particular group of that particular species has entered the ruins since we were here last.

“Nevertheless, we can take comfort in the knowledge that we have been here before and survived, when far more dangerous adversaries than grimm were lurking in the tunnels below. We can take comfort in the fact that the numbers of the grimm have been dramatically reduced from what they were when we were here last. And we can take comfort from the fact that we know this city far better now than we did when last we were here.

“We don’t yet know exactly what is at stake here, but mysteries left unattended have a habit of growing more dangerous with age, just like a grimm, and I am sure that we all wish to nip this particular mystery in the bud as swiftly as possible.

“If we do this properly, as I am sure we will, then we can complete our mission and be out of here without once having to set foot underground. And we will be back home at Beacon before we know it, with the Vytal Festival and a lot of fun before us. Isn’t that something to look forward to?”

Jaune grinned. “You make it sound so simple.”

“I mean … it can be,” Pyrrha declared. “If we do it right.” She glanced at Sunset, who had not reacted at all to her words. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

She turned away from Jaune and Ruby and approached Sunset.

Sunset stood with Sol Invictus held in one hand at her side, her head slightly bowed, but her eyes turned upwards, looking at the city.

She was biting her lip.

“I didn’t mean to usurp your place,” Pyrrha began apologetically. “It’s just—”

“I know,” Sunset murmured. “You did … reasonably well.”

“You could do better, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said, more in hope than expectation. “I’ve never much enjoyed publicly speaking.”

“Your words were … rough, in places,” Sunset said, “but you spoke from the heart. I, by comparison, would be conjuring…”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her shining circlet. “Team Sapphire needs its leader, Sunset.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, and then gripped Sol Invictus with both hands, very tightly; her hands themselves were hidden beneath her gloves, but Pyrrha was sure that if she had been able to see Sunset’s knuckles, they would have been white from gripping her rifle so tight.

“And it has its leader,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m with you now.”

“It’s alright,” Pyrrha assured her as the two of them rejoined Jaune and Ruby.

“All set?” asked Ruby.

“All set,” Sunset declared.

Team SAPR had just been dropped off by a Bullhead that was even now flying up and away from them, back in the direction of Beacon and of Vale. An aerial grimm sighting had forced them to be deposited on the ground further away than any of them would have liked. But, with giant nevermores in the skies, the Bullhead pilot had refused to carry them any closer towards their objective — the Merlot Industries corporate headquarters — and so they would have to make it the rest of their way on foot.

“Students, it’s nice to finally have the chance to work with you in some fashion,” Doctor Oobleck said through their earpieces. “Miss Rose, I hope that your performance in the field is better than your grades on some of your papers.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Yeah, uh, I … I’ll definitely show you my skills, Doctor.”

“You can rely on us, Doctor,” said Pyrrha, calmly but firmly too. “All that is asked of us, we shall accomplish, and all that is required of us, we shall deliver.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Miss Nikos,” Doctor Oobleck replied. “Of course, I’d expect nothing less of the up and coming team. Now, as you’re aware, old Merlot Industries technology was found interfering with our security systems; combined with the fact that it was also involved in some rather dastardly kidnappings in Atlas is very troubling. The use of Merlot technology might be nothing … OR IT MIGHT BE EVERYTHING! Which is why Professor Ozpin feels that it is worth investigating the old Merlot Industries headquarters in the centre of the city.

“Professor Port has been called away to monitor Team Coffee on their mission to Alexandria, but with my knowledge of Mountain Glenn, Professor Ozpin has asked me to keep in touch as long as possible. I’ve already uploaded a map to your scrolls detailing the route to Merlot Headquarters; unfortunately, I can’t guarantee being able to walk you through every; communications in Mountain Glenn are spotty at best.”

“We remember,” Jaune said. “I’m a little surprised that we can still hear you, to be honest. Last time, we had another team between us and Beacon to pass messages too.”

“That was probably a more reliable method of maintaining contact, Mister Arc,” Doctor Oobleck admitted. “At the moment, we’re using a Starhead transponder to boost the signal to and from, and of course, you’re not actually in Mountain Glenn yet, but I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay in touch.”

“Is there any indication on how many grimm are left in the city?” Pyrrha asked. “It seemed like a lot of them followed us down the tunnel, but…” It seemed at the time like the city must be emptying of grimm to try and force the Breach, but was that actually the case? Have more come back since? How infested or not is the city at the moment?

“The Atlesians conducted several aerial reconnaissances in the immediate aftermath of the Breach, focussed on looking for the White Fang; however, in their searches, they didn’t report any more grimm moving into the city,” Doctor Oobleck said. “However, General Ironwood decided that putting boots on the ground would not be worth the—” He broke off in a burst of static.

“Doctor Oobleck?” Pyrrha asked.

“Students, can you hear me?”

“Now,” Ruby said. “But we lost you for a second there.”

“As I suspected, the communications are … try and boost … good luck out there. Try to come back … uncomfortable parent-teacher conference.”

“What was that about a parent-teacher conference?” Jaune said.

“I think the essence was ‘don’t die,’” Sunset muttered. “Something which … something which I would also very much appreciate. There may be…” She trailed off. “Anyway…” She pulled out her scroll and consulted the map that Doctor Oobleck had sent them. “It’s this way,” she said. “We can cross this bridge and be right on top of the Merlot building.”

But first they had to make their way down a wide, spacious boulevard, the kind that had trees planted down the centre of a road with enough space for two lanes, the kind that probably would have been home to upmarket shops and somewhat expensive restaurants when the city was at its brief but thriving peak.

Now, the tables at the restaurants had been smashed, the doors and windows had either been broken down by grimm or had decayed, and the only things that inhabited the place now was the pack of beowolves who had obviously not followed the train down the tunnel to their deaths in the breach. Rather, still very much alive and present in the city, they broiled out onto the boulevard like angry bees as soon as SAPR set foot there.

Fortunately, there were only a score of them, with no visible alpha to lead their group — although there were a few who were big enough to look as though they might have ascended to that position had fate not condemned to death at this time and this place — and they were dealt with, if not without a little sweat at times. The combined fire of the four huntsmen downed several before they even got close enough to try and use their claws — Ruby in particular planted Crescent Rose into the ground and was responsible for taking down a third of the monsters with her bullets alone — and once they did, their teeth and claws did not avail them. Sunset impaled one through the chest with her bayonet, bashed in the skull of another, and then extended her bayonet outwards like a pike to catch a third as it tried to leap upon her from above. Ruby sliced a beowolf in half with a single swing of Crescent Rose, then missed a swing at another that put her in a perfect position to shoot the beowolf at point blank range. Pyrrha’s red hair and red sash both flew around her as she danced nimbly through their black demonic ranks, her spear whirling in deadly circles as they fell before her. Jaune used his ice dust to good effect, unleashing it at just the moment when his sword struck home to fill the wounds he dealt with expanding, deadly ice.

And thus were all of the grimm defeated. Would that all battles could be won so easily.

At the end of the boulevard, there was a ramp formed by the rising up of dirt and rubble that obliterated the roadway in a mud and rubble barrier that, although climbable, was nevertheless steep. Pyrrha couldn’t help but wonder if it had been created by the inhabitants of the city in a futile attempt to form some kind of barrier against the grimm.

If that was the case, then it hadn’t worked, any more than the much larger and more obvious barrier that they found when, after passing up the ramp and cutting through a sidestreet to reach the old waterfront, they arrived at the bridge that, according to Sunset’s map, would lead them to their destination.

Or it would have if it hadn’t been blocked; a sturdy-looking barricade of corrugated metal sheets as large as the fronts of houses, collapsed stone columns, concrete blocks, containers, boulders, and even a metal sign emblazoned with ‘Mountain Glenn’ had been thrown up along the entire width of the bridge. There were claw marks on the barricade, scratching the metal and scoring the stone, and now that Pyrrha looked at the bridge beneath her feet, she could see gunfire and explosives impacts.

Jaune looked at it pensively. “Do you think … do you think they thought this would hold off the grimm, or was this just a way of buying time until everybody could get underground?”

“Does it matter?” Sunset asked.

Jaune shrugged. “If they thought they could hold off the grimm with this, then … it didn’t work, but if they were trying to buy a little time, then it might have worked, even if … you’re right, I guess it doesn’t really matter after all.”

This is, without a doubt, the most maudlin place I have ever been or heard tell of, Pyrrha thought.

“I believe it does matter,” she said. “The fact that later tragedies befell does not mean that the effort to get everyone underground was not worth making or that the extra days of life that were lived underground were not worth living.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Jaune said softly, “That’s a pretty good point.”

“It doesn’t make that much difference; this is still a grim sight in every sense,” Sunset muttered. “The sooner we’re away from here, the better. Pyrrha, do you think that you and I could shift some of this, you with your semblance and me with my magic?”

“We could try,” Pyrrha murmured. “But without knowing how thick it is on the other side … it might be better to try a different approach. Could we use the old waterway to go around?”

The bridge on which they stood had been built over Mountain Glenn’s waterway system, which had apparently been designed to run through the centre of the city like a river. It had dried up now; no more water flowed beneath them, leaving only a silted up and muddy riverbed with enormous pipes sticking out from both sides. It looked sheer on both sides, but there had to be some way of getting in and out, or how would they do any maintenance?

Sunset pulled out her scroll and consulted her map. “You’re right, there’s a lock not too far away; if it’s still open or we can get it open…” She put her scroll away. “Okay then … let’s go take a walk down the sewer.”

“Just pretend it’s a day at the water park,” Ruby said as she climbed up onto the ledge separating the bridge from the dry riverbed below. “Just a day at the water park.” She wrinkled her nose. “The icky, kind of gross, and nasty-smelling water park.”

They all leapt down from the bridge, landing with a series of squelches in the mud that covered the old waterway. That mud quickly spread over the tops of their boots, and since Jaune was only wearing trainers, it seemed as though his feet were going to get it especially bad. It might even ruin his socks.

“Okay, this is … nasty,” Sunset said, looking down at her feet as they sank into the mud which was now almost reaching her pants. She closed her eyes, and a soft green glow descended down to her feet, enveloping her boots and her ankles in a green light. She stepped out of the mud with a visible effort, forcibly wrenching her feet out of the viscous muck that tried to entrap them, and then stepped onto the very surface of the mud, which didn’t give way beneath her but bore her weight as though it was as solid as concrete.

“How are you—?” Jaune began enviously.

“A variation on the cloud-walking spell,” Sunset said.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You can walk on clouds?”

Sunset grinned. “Did I not tell you I could walk on clouds if I wanted to? I need a balloon to get up there in the first place, but … I’ll tell you all about it later; for now, let me cast this spell on you all so that we can actually move down this oversized drain before we start to smell too badly. Ruby, you first.”

“Uh, guys,” Jaune said. “I think I just felt something brush my leg.”

Pyrrha stepped towards him, reversing her spear like a harpoon. “Where? Do you know what it was?”

“No,” Jaune said as he looked down at his legs and the area around them. “I just felt something brush my ankle.”

Sunset raised her rifle to her shoulder. “And I think I just saw some of that mud move a little.”

“You think there’s something alive in here?” Ruby asked as she contracted Crescent Rose into its stubby carbine configuration.

“I think I’m going to cast the spell on you all, and then we’re going to run,” Sunset said, and already, her breaths between words were a little heavier, as though she had been running already. “Starting with—”

Jaune gave a startled cry as he was dragged off his feet by an invisible force. His sword fell from his hand to land in the mud and sink into the morass as Jaune himself was pulled leftwards and off his feet, his arms flailing as he landed on his back in the mud which began immediately to receive him, the brown ooze beginning to engulf him within its murky embrace.

Not going to happen. Pyrrha’s shield was on her back; she had one hand free, and with that hand, she grabbed Jaune’s outstretched arm. The characteristic black outline of her semblance enveloped Pyrrha’s hand as she latched on to Jaune’s metal armour, all of it securely strapped around his body, and pulled towards her with all the strength at her command.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s alright, Jaune, I’ve got you.”

Jaune winced. “There’s something round my leg.”

“I can’t see it!” Sunset yelled.

“It’s there!” Jaune cried.

Ruby began to fire, letting fly from Crescent Rose as the barrel flashed brightly over and over again as bullets thudded into the mud around Jaune’s feet, throwing up miniature fountains of muck into the air as they struck home.

“Don’t hit his leg,” Pyrrha cried as she pulled Jaune back towards her.

“I’m trying not to,” Ruby said through gritted teeth. She fired again, pulled back on the lever, pulled the trigger again, only to be rewarded with a click that signified the magazine was empty. She frantically reached for another.

Pyrrha felt something nip at the back of her ankle. She half-turned, lunging down into the mud with her spear, but in that moment of distraction, Jaune was torn from her grasp and pulled down into the mud.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha yelled, and the black outline of her semblance grew to encompass her entire arm as she reached out for him, searching for metal, pulling it all towards her, everything that she could sense below and out of sight.

A host of discarded cans of pop, soda, and beer rose up towards her, but after a moment, so did Jaune, breaching the muddy surface with some kind of worm wrapped around his body. It was white, with red patterns winding their way around a body made up of a hundred segmented scales with tiny spikes growing out of it. It had coiled its way up Jaune’s leg and around his chest as though it were trying to crush him through his aura. He had grabbed the worm with both hands just below its head and was holding it back as it opened its mandibular maw and tried to bite him. Jaune’s face was a mask of concentration so intense it was hard to tell if he even noticed he had been pulled from the mud yet. The grimm worm flickered its tongue towards him.

Pyrrha’s expression was as grim as the monster's as she stepped forward, changing Miló into sword form as she did so, and with a single stroke, severed the worm’s head from its body.

Jaune let out a squawk as the dead head landed in his lap, batting it away into the mud. He looked up at her gratefully. “Thanks,” he said.

Pyrrha smiled. “Any time.” She offered a hand to help him up.

“Uh, guys?” Ruby said. “That grimm … it’s not smoking.”

Pyrrha glanced at the head that she had just severed. She was confused for half a moment, as the head was starting to disintegrate, but then she realised that the rest of the body — from which Jaune was trying to disentangle himself — was stubbornly refusing to begin turning to smoke.

Which means that it isn’t—

A yell from Sunset attracted her attention in time to see her team leader being dragged into the mud, cloud-walking spell and all. Sunset dropped her rifle, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the viscous, cloying surface, her face a mask of thoughtless panic, before she disappeared beneath the surface of the mire.

“Sun—” Pyrrha’s shout was cut off by the feeling of something biting her ankle; she whirled, and her spear whirled around in her hands as she slashed downwards with it, across her feet and into the dirt as though she were trying to shovel it out of the way. She was rewarded with a brief sensation of resistance and what sounded like a cry of pain muffled by the mud between Pyrrha and her target, but the moment of satisfaction was cut short when Jaune cried out in fear and alarm behind her.

Ruby’s eyes were wide. She fired blindly, this way and that. “Where are they?” she shouted.

Pyrrha responded with deeds, not words. She threw her shield down at Ruby’s ankles, using her semblance to keep it suspended just above the dirt and not sinking into the manky, murky depths as she hauled herself out of the mud with a mighty leap that carried her upwards just ahead of the three worm- or snake-like grim who erupted, hissing angrily, behind her as she leapt. Pyrrha landed atop her own shield, standing still only for the moment it took to grab Ruby by the scruff of the neck before she leapt again, concentrating all her aura to her legs for a kick that carried her and Ruby both all the way to the top of the nearest of the large drainage pipes that emptied like puking mouths into the old waterway.

“Stay here,” she said, “and shoot anything that sticks its head up above the surface. I’m going to get Jaune and Sunset.”

I should still have enough aura left even for this rather reckless use of my semblance.

Pyrrha threw her shield down, and with Polarity, she held it just an inch or two above the surface of the mud, holding it there even as she leapt down like a thunderbolt upon it, balancing upon the disc with her heels pressed close together, channelling her semblance through her feet to keep Akoúo̱ in place.

She spread out her hands, both of them engulfed by that black outline of Polarity, spreading it out around her, using it not like a hand but almost more like an ear, as though she were some kind of bat; except it was metal she was searching for, not sound.

They were both alive. They had enough aura to keep them alive. Some grimm were large enough to devour men whole — griffons, giant nevermores, other such great and fearsome beasts — and yet, the act of swallowing itself did not kill a victim with aura. Rather, as had been observed by huntsmen over the years, there was something in the belly of the beast that paralysed the victim despite their aura, rendering them unable to free themselves while their aura was worn away by digestion.

But they could be freed by others, alive and unharmed, if the grimm that had swallowed them were killed quickly enough.

And so she searched for metal, for Jaune’s armour, for Sunset’s cuirass and vambraces; she would take any metal, but she had already pulled out a lot of it from the mud already.

There! And there!

Pyrrha focussed, increasing the amount of aura she was putting into her semblance, grasping the metal as with invisible hands and lifting upwards.

It was a strain. She had expected it would be a strain; she was not lifting Jaune and Sunset but the grimm that sought to devour them also. She scowled, her arms trembling slightly. The weight of what she sought to move resisted her, the very mud itself, the layer upon layer of tight-packed earth resisted her. But she would not be denied in this.

Give them back to me!

She heard the distinctive booming sound of Crescent Rose and felt a little earth spatter upon her boot. She guessed that something had emerged out of the mud to search for her, and Ruby had shot it, but she did not look around, she did not even thank Ruby for the shot. She needed to concentrate.

She could feel the metal moving; she could feel it obeying her command. She could see the mud rising, great lumps of it bulging upwards until the mud cracked open to reveal the grimm.

They were not snakes at all; rather, the snakelike grimm that had grabbed Jaune were only tongues, tongues like snakes with mouths of their own and mandibular jaws emerging out of the mouths of immense black, slug-like creatures, great worms with white spurs of bone like little fins sticking out of their body at all angles and sightless masks of bone with sharp cruel beaks and lower jaws that split in three.

As Pyrrha raised them up into the air out of the mud they squirmed and wriggled, flapping their fat tails, moving their bone spurs back and forth, clacking their jaws together, shrieking harsh, piercing shrieks as their snake-tongues writhed.

Ruby held her fire, not wanting to risk hitting Jaune or Sunset if her shot penetrated these … things.

Pyrrha channelled all of her semblance through her left hand to hold both grimm in place through her grip on Jaune and Sunset. With her right hand, she drew Miló, shifting her weapon smoothly into sword mode.

With her feet, she sent Akoúo̱ gliding over the surface of the mud, carrying Pyrrha with it, flying over the dried up waterway, hearing the shots of Crescent Rose as Ruby kept her covered.

She approached the first grimm from behind, keeping clear of its mouth and its snake tongues, circling around before flying towards its harmless, flapping tail.

The grimm struggled in the grip of her semblance, shrieking wildly.

Pyrrha glided past its flank, and as she passed, she thrust Miló deep into its black, oily flesh, digging deep into the grimm’s flank and slicing it all the way towards its bony head.

The grimm opened up, and Jaune tumbled out and into Pyrrha’s outstretched arm.

His eyes were closed, and his body was cold to the touch, but both of those things … they were not good things, but Professor Port had made clear that they were to be expected in these circumstances; victims cut living from dead grimm took a short while for the paralysis to wear off.

Pyrrha rested him upon her shoulder as the grimm, no longer burdened by the metal that Pyrrha had been grasping to hold it up, flopped down onto the mud, its lifeless husk already beginning to turn to smoke and ashes. Crocea Mors hit the mud as well, but Pyrrha would have to wait to retrieve that; she couldn’t keep everything balanced all at once.

Nevertheless, the weight of Jaune upon her shoulder felt better than the weight upon her semblance, not least because he wasn’t in any danger on her shoulder.

The remaining grimm cried out, as though it could sense the death of its fellow.

Or perhaps it’s worried that it can’t hear it screaming anymore.

In any case, just a little longer, Sunset, here I come.

Once more, Pyrrha approached the grimm from behind, taking a wide arc on Akoúo̱ around it, keeping clear of beak and tongues as she slashed it open down the side and pulled Sunset out of the belly of the dying monster.

Sunset, too, was unconscious, eyes closed, body cold. Pyrrha gathered her in her arms, letting Sol Invictus fall as she had Crocea Mors, and with both Jaune and Sunset safely in her grasp, she leapt upwards, off her shield through the air to land behind Ruby on the pipe.

Pyrrha let out a somewhat weary sigh as she sat down upon the cold and rusting metal, her sash draping across it to dangle downwards as her feet kicked the air. She might have used her semblance more when fighting Cinder, but nothing that she had moved with it had felt quite so difficult as those heavy grimm.

Ruby turned around. “Are they okay?”

“They will be,” Pyrrha assured her. “Remember what Professor Port said about being swallowed by a grimm.”

“You know I can’t follow Professor Port’s stories!”

“They will be fine,” Pyrrha said. “We just need to give them a little time. Would you mind holding onto Sunset until she comes round?”

“Sure,” Ruby said, reaching out with her small, pale hands, grabbing hold of Sunset and balancing her so that she didn’t topple and fall off the pipe right back down into the mud.

Pyrrha cradled Jaune with one hand, resting his head upon her lap as, with her other hand, she retrieved Akoúo̱, Crocea Mors, and Sol Invictus from down in the waterway below.

She slung her shield across her back, handed Sol Invictus to Ruby, and kept Crocea Mors in her hand for a moment.

Already, the colour was returning to Jaune’s pale face. Already, he was not so cold to the touch. It would not be long now.

Pyrrha brushed some of his long blond hair out of his forehead; she leaned down and gently kissed him there, brushing her lips against his cold but warming skin.

Jaune made a quiet, wordless sound, a faint stirring.

His blue eyes fluttered, then closed again. Then they fluttered again, and this time, they opened.

Pyrrha smiled. “Welcome back.”

“Pyrrha,” he murmured. “I just had this awful dream where I got—”

“If you dreamed of being swallowed by a grimm in the ruins of Mountain Glenn, I’m afraid that wasn’t a dream,” Pyrrha said apologetically. “That really happened.”

Jaune’s eyes widened. “It did? Then how—?”

“Pyrrha got you out,” Ruby explained. “You and Sunset; it was pretty cool.”

“No doubt it was,” Sunset groaned. “Thank you, Pyrrha.” She blinked and shook her head. “How … how?”

“I used my semblance to pull the grimm out of the mud with you inside, then cut you both out,” Pyrrha said. “And no thanks are needed.”

“You have them nevertheless,” Sunset said.

“How’s your aura?” Jaune asked, sitting up and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve used up some of it, but are you sure you should be using your semblance so soon?” Pyrrha replied.

“I’ll be fine,” Jaune said as his hand began to glow with that white gold effect, spreading the light across Pyrrha’s body, bringing with it that warmth and the sensation of soft rain upon her skin as she felt her aura restoring immediately.

“So, I take it from the fact that we’re all perched on this pipe that there are still more grimm down there?” Sunset asked.

Ruby nodded. “I saw some of their tongues come out as Pyrrha was doing her thing.”

“'Their tongues'?” Sunset repeated.

There was a stirring of the mud beneath them as another of those grimm emerged from the mud right underneath the pipe on which they sat, its bones digging into the concrete of the waterway wall as the grimm hauled itself six feet out of the mud, its jawed tongues extending further, pressing up the wall, climbing, teasing towards them, sweeping back and forth as they probed blinding for their prey.

“What in Celestia’s name?” Sunset gasped.

Ruby fired at it, but her bullet glanced off the bony beak of the grimm, which immediately cried out and dropped back down into the mud.

Pyrrha could see the mud moving in two other places, where the grimm were close enough to the surface to disturb it with their passage.

“I can’t hit them when they’re underground,” Ruby growled. “Not just because I can’t see them but because dirt’s such a good bullet stopper. So long as they stay down there, they’re really well protected.”

“At least it doesn’t seem as though they can get us up here,” Jaune replied.

“Sure,” Sunset growled. “But they know we have to go back down there eventually. We’re like swimmers taking refuge on a rock; we have to go back in the water at some point.”

“Hmm, without metal inside them, I can’t use my semblance as I did to get you out,” Pyrrha said, “but could you pull them out with your telekinesis.”

“Hard to do without being able to see them,” Sunset said. “Besides, I have a better idea.” Her hands glowed, and she touched Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune in turn. Pyrrha felt a tingling feeling, a pleasant prickling like a particularly powerful shower, trickling down her body towards her feet.

“I just cast the variant cloud-walking spell on you all,” Sunset said. “When we get down there, the mud won’t present any problems.”

“You want us to go back down there?” Jaune asked incredulously.

“Not yet,” Sunset said as she got up, standing balanced upon the pipe. “I just don’t want to wait and not have the energy to do that later. First, I’m going to get rid of all those things, however many of them there are down there.”

She closed her eyes and held out her hands in front of her, over the mud in which the grimm lurked.

Slowly, gradually, a forest of spears began to appear in the air above the waterway; scores of them, perhaps more than a hundred in a hovering phalanx that stretched from the bridge a good way down the waterway as far as the earthen rampart that acted as a natural barrier to this section of ravine. Sunset’s brow was furrowed, her face wrinkled in concentration, her body trembling. Pyrrha couldn’t imagine what this amount of magic must be costing her.

“Sunset,” she began.

“Those things are too dangerous,” Sunset said. “I’m going to get them all in one single strike.”

More spears appeared, joining the tight mass in front of Sunset. It was a phalanx, like one of the armies of old: an unavoidable hedge of spears poised to fall from heaven upon Sunset’s enemies.

Every spear of magic thrummed with anticipation and the promise of destructive power as they hung suspended in the air by Sunset’s will.

Then Sunset opened her eyes as green as the spears themselves, and the lances of heaven fell to earth with the force of many great thunderbolts.

The world seemed to explode. Pyrrha turned away from the blinding light; she felt as though her eardrums might burst with the roar of the almighty explosion and the dying screams of the grimm that mingled with it; she raised her shield against the mud the erupted upwards in consequence of all the blasts.

And when the air had cleared, she contemplated what Sunset had done.

She had churned the earth more thoroughly than any plough could have managed; any trace of placidity about this stretch of waterway was gone. Nothing could live here, and there was no sign that anything did.

Sunset took a deep breath as a little muck fell out of her hair. “Got them,” she murmured, before she fell forwards off the pipe and down to the ground.

Pyrrha leapt after her, but Ruby was faster and reached the ground before either of them, half-catching Sunset as she fell so that she landed on her feet instead of flat on her front.

“Sunset, what’s up?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Sunset said, though she was taking very deep breaths. “I’m just … don’t expect any more magic out of me today. That really was my limit and a little more.” She picked herself up out of Ruby’s arms, and straightened up. “But I’ve still got my aura, mostly, so I’ll be fine.”

“You seem tired,” Pyrrha said, noting the way that Sunset continued to pant for breath.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sunset said. “Jaune, how are you doing?”

Jaune leapt down to join the other three. None of them sank into the churned up mud as they had done before. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Sorry I wasn’t more help back there.”

Sunset shook her head. “Those things caught us all by surprise. I don’t remember reading anything about them.” She ran one hand through her hair, then looked disgusted when it came away dirty. “But they’re dead now, so let’s keep going. The lock shouldn’t be too far ahead.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Pyrrha said, in a tone that was far more statement than suggestion. She didn’t know exactly where Sunset’s or Jaune’s auras stood, but as Jaune had just recharged her aura, she knew that hers was in a healthy state, and she was a better fighter at close quarters than Ruby. So she would lead the way, and she did not intend to brook any argument upon this point.

Perhaps the others could sense that, for they offered none, and Pyrrha took the lead and let the others follow. Together, they scaled the earthen rampart that had grown up before them, an accumulation of dirt and detritus forming a kind of dam — or it would have been a dam if there had been any actual water left; they passed beneath another bridge, this one either destroyed in the battle for Mountain Glenn or else simply collapsed until the later and even more powerful onslaught of years. It didn’t take too long for them to find the lock that Sunset had identified, a dark metallic gate leading out of the waterway and back into the city proper.

Fortunately, the door still worked, even if it did creak open with painful slowness once activated.

Unfortunately, the sound of it activating drew five ursai out of the enormous pipes where they had been making their homes.

If Team SAPR had been in their best shape and fighting condition, then five ursai — they were none of them ursa major, only the younger minors — would have been, if not easy, then at least tolerable. Between them, they would have risen to the challenge.

But after their encounter with the slug grimm, the fact of the matter was that Team SAPR was not in peak condition. Sunset in particular was visibly struggling after her discharge of magic.

Pyrrha led the way in the attack on the ursa who advanced, growling and snuffling, towards them from out of the pipes, hoping to cut them down before they could reach her more battle-worn teammates. Miló spun in her hands, and Pyrrha spun too, red sash and red hair alike flying around her as she danced gracefully amongst these demons, striking down first one and then another as Ruby matched her kill for kill.

The fifth went for Sunset. Her rifle had been buried in the mud and couldn’t shoot; perhaps the spear extension mechanism was gummed up as well, or perhaps Sunset was too tired to remember it, because she didn’t use it; she just charged at the ursa with her bayonet pointing at the bear-like grimm.

With one paw, the ursa batted her thrust aside, and with the other, it swatted Sunset aside in turn, slamming her into the nearest wall hard enough to leave minute fractures in the grey concrete.

Sunset got up, but she was swaying on her feet like a drunken man, and when she drew Soteria, the black blade trembled in her hands as though the black blade had suddenly become too heavy for her to bear the weight.

The ursa stomped towards her.

Jaune threw himself between Sunset and the ursa with a defiant shout. The ursa roared back as it swiped at him with his paw. Jaune’s shield began to glow with the brilliant light of his semblance as he took the blow without flinching, then, with another shout, he hacked at the grimm in an orgy of wild slashing strokes, abandoning precision for a blunt ferocity that nevertheless put the last ursa dead and on its back in short order.

Jaune stared at the fruits of his labour in surprise for a moment before turning to Sunset. “Are you okay?”

“I think we both know the answer to that,” Sunset said softly as she sheathed her sword. “Thanks.”

“You’d have done the same for me, right?” Jaune said, as though what he had done was nothing at all. He turned his shield back to a scabbard, and sheathed his own sword in turn before holding out one hand to Sunset. “Do you need me to—?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly as she got out her scroll.

She brought up all the team’s aura levels, and as Pyrrha and Ruby joined them, Pyrrha could see the results as clearly as Sunset herself on the transparent screen. It didn’t make for particularly appealing reading. Jaune’s aura was in the yellow after being attacked by the grimm, using his semblance on Pyrrha, and then taking that attack from the ursa just now; Sunset’s was in the yellow and likely to get red if she took another couple of hits; Ruby and Pyrrha remained in the green with their auras, but in Pyrrha’s case, that was because Jaune put himself in the yellow for her.

“If you use your semblance on me, you’re going to risk going into the red,” Sunset said. She sighed and looked up at the sky. She sighed again, with great weariness. “Some of us are low on aura, I’m out of magic, and it’s getting dark. So we’re going to find somewhere to hold up for the night, get some rest, and get to the objective fresh in the morning.”

It was phrased as order, not suggestion and — not withstanding the fact that Pyrrha knew Sunset well enough by now to know, that they all knew Sunset well enough by now to know that she would be more open to suggestion and counter-argument than she let on at times like these — nobody took issue with it, just as nobody had taken issue with Pyrrha taking the lead, and for the same reason: because it was the right call. None of them had the night-vision that Blake or other faunus like her were blessed with, which meant that if they tried to push on through the dark, they would be at a double disadvantage against the grimm with their superior night vision and greater knowledge of the area, and with Jaune and Sunset’s auras in the state they were in, they could easily find themselves in a very difficult situation if they tried to push on, and all for what? Stubborn pride? There was no reason a single night’s delay should do them harm.

They quickly found somewhere to spend the night, somewhere close by the lock gate that had just opened for them, since spending a long time searching for a shelter would have risked defeating the object of seeking shelter at all: it was a low-rise tower block, one that looked as though it had been incomplete when the city was overrun, which meant that the team did not have to worry about coming across dead bodies or grim reminders of the fate of Mountain Glenn — as though they could forget it — to disturb their sleep too much. The walls were unfinished in many parts, and there was little to the interior besides a bare floor, but even when they climbed to the top floor about eight storeys high, there was still a roof over their heads, even if there was nothing but steel girders and the empty air on all sides.

They made a fire, acquiring kindling by ripping up a few of the floorboards from the ground floor and using a steel drum that had been abandoned on the third floor to contain the blaze that soon illuminated the darkness like a lighthouse beacon.

They had begun to eat — field rations, some sort of brown goop that was hopefully nutritious since it wasn’t particularly appetising — when a burst of static filled their ears and made them all jump.

“Team Sapphire? Team Sapphire, this is Professor Ozpin; can you hear me?”

Sunset put one hand to her ear. “This is Sunset Shimmer, Professor; we can hear you.”

Professor Ozpin sighed. “Good. I was hoping that we’d be able to reestablish contact. What’s your status, Miss Shimmer?”

“We’re not far from the old Main Street,” Sunset said. “We got into a couple of scraps with the local grimm, and I decided that it would be best to make camp for the night and continue in the morning.”

“I hope that only injuries were to your aura levels,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “But—”

“I didn’t intend to reprimand you, Miss Shimmer, do not misunderstand me,” Professor Ozpin said. “Although recklessness is, on occasion, necessary, the situation where caution is a vice is very rare. I’m sure that you did the right thing. I’ll try and make sure that communications don’t fail again, but I can’t guarantee it, and unfortunately, I can’t promise to stay on the line. Doctor Oobleck will continue to monitor your progress as much as possible, but I’m afraid that I have other matters claiming a share of my attention at the moment.”

“Is everything okay back at Beacon, Professor?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, Miss Rose, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” Professor Ozpin said. “Don’t let it concern you, any of you. Focus on the mission, and tonight, focus on your rest. Goodnight, students.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” Pyrrha said before the line went dead, and they were left alone once more.

For a moment there was silence, with only the crackling of the fire in its metal drum to disturb the stillness of the night.

“Today was … not as easy as we might have liked,” Pyrrha said. “Certain grimm clearly felt more comfortable remaining in Mountain Glenn than they did following the train into Vale. Nevertheless, we are all still here, and tomorrow, rested and recovered and with an early start, there should be nothing stopping us from reaching our objective.

“The fact that we are having to overnight here is not a failure,” she insisted. “No one should see it as a failure.”

Ruby nodded. “What do you think we’ll find when we get there, to this Merlot place?”

“Someone living there?” Jaune suggested. “Maybe … more faunus who need rescuing, ones who weren’t saved by Rainbow Dash and Blake.”

“How could anyone live in a city full of grimm?” asked Ruby.

“Protected by their robots?” Jaune guessed.

“They would have to be very fortunate, if so,” Pyrrha said. “But I suppose it is not impossible, even if it is more likely that we will find … it is most likely we will find that someone has been there before us and removed things: the cages, maybe even the robots, other equipment. If that is the case, it may also be that whoever removed it is continuing work begun by Merlot Industries, and we may find clues to it.”

“What kind of work requires kidnapping faunus?” Jaune asked. “What kind of work requires kidnapping faunus and trapping grimm?”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “Sunset, did Blake or Rainbow tell you why the faunus were being kidnapped? For what purpose?”

Sunset didn’t answer. She was looking down at her boots, her ears drooped a little.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha prompted.

“Huh?” Sunset replied, looking up suddenly.

“I asked if Rainbow or Blake had told you why the faunus were being kidnapped,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Oh, um, no,” Sunset replied, in a voice that was distant and distracted. “No, they … they didn’t mention it.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said. “That is a pity, but I dare say that we will muddle through regardless.”

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. She got to her feet. “I’ll take the first watch.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked. “Perhaps you should rest and let your magic—”

“I’ll be fine,” Sunset said sharply. “I will … I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t that Pyrrha didn’t trust Sunset to wake her up when it was her turn to take over watch, but … well, Pyrrha didn’t entirely trust Sunset to wake her up when it was her turn to take over watch, the way she’d been acting, and so, Pyrrha was woken up by the vibrating of her scroll, which Pyrrha had set for the purpose, against her thigh.

She opened her eyes, blinking the last vestiges of sleep away as she sat up, looking around the unfinished building where they rested.

Jaune and Ruby were asleep on either side of the metal drum, now devoid of flames.

Sunset stood on the very edge of the building, looking out across the dead expanse of Mountain Glenn which stretched far off on every side around them.

Pyrrha got up and made her way across the floor of the building to stand by Sunset’s side.

“Sunset?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper, so as to neither startle Sunset nor disturb the others.

Sunset glanced at her. “Hey,” she whispered, speaking softly in her turn. “What are you doing up? Couldn’t sleep?”

“It’s time for me to relieve you,” Pyrrha informed her.

Sunset shook her head. “Go back to sleep. I can do more.”

“You need rest as much as any of us,” Pyrrha said. “More, perhaps; none of the rest of us ran out of our magic—”

“That’s because you don’t have any,” Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha gave Sunset a look. “You know what I mean. What makes you think that you can go without sleep?”

“Pyrrha, I’m not going to get any sleep here anyway, so one of us might as well,” Sunset managed the impressive feat of snapping while simultaneously keeping her voice down.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, saying nothing but neither making any move to go. “It’s this place, isn’t it?” she asked. She paused for a moment. “Does it … does it speak to you?”

Sunset looked at her, green eyes wide. “You’ve heard it too?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Before we entered the city. It is probably just our own fears and doubts given voice, but—”

“That doesn’t make it easy to hear,” Sunset muttered. She looked away. “I will find no rest in this place.”

I see. Well, it isn’t as though you’d simply leave me in such a state and go back to bed.

“Is it what happened here the last time,” Pyrrha asked. “Or is it what it represents?”

“It is … a little of both,” Sunset said. “But more, it is … did Blake or Rainbow tell you about what happened when they went scouting ahead for the rest of us?”

Pyrrha shook her head. “No.”

“Blake got attacked by a chill,” Sunset said. “It … it possessed her, right through her aura, took her over.” She shuddered. “The thought of more of such things lurking here, unseen, the idea of something like that happening to you, to any of you, it … I cannot bear it. If that happened, I … it feels as though we barely escaped with our lives last time—”

“But we did escape,” Pyrrha said. “All of us. We came through safe and sound — we won — against more dangerous enemies and more numerous grimm. Yes, we have had a tough day, but that doesn’t change the fact that the grimm are fewer in number here than they were before.” She paused. “And while I cannot deny that what happened to Blake is…” Terrifying. “But Blake survived, so what happened?”

“Rainbow Dash used a pulse of her own aura to drive the chill out after it had taken possession,” Sunset explained. “Like when you activated Jaune’s aura.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Then even that threat is … manageable. Thank you for telling me that; I know what to do now.”

“Unless you’re the one who gets possessed,” Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha didn’t respond to that, rather saying, “We are stronger than you think, Sunset.”

Sunset glanced at her. “You mean you’re stronger than you feared you might be.”

Pyrrha did not flinch in the face of that. “I cannot deny the truth of that. My victory has given me a surfeit of confidence that I felt myself lacking before.” She smiled. “It makes a change, does it not? You are usually the one surfeited with greater confidence than myself.”

“Or I am usually better at hiding the lack thereof than you,” Sunset said quietly. “But this place … it frays at confidence, real and assumed, all at once; I can neither be confident, nor can I pretend to be so. I feel … I feel as though we danced on the edge of the abyss when we were here last, and now, we are returned to tempt fate a second time. And for what?”

“We know not,” Pyrrha said. “That is why we are here.”

Sunset snorted. “True enough,” she conceded, “but what could we find here that would be worth the risk of venturing here to find it?”

“We will know tomorrow,” Pyrrha reminded her. She paused for a moment. “You do realise, of course, that our chances would be improved if you were to rest and recover your strength?”

Sunset let out a very soft chuckle. “Yes, yes, I am aware, with my … with what passes for my mind, my rational senses. And yet, I fear that sleep will not embrace me here.”

“Try at least,” Pyrrha urged. “Please. Or let me keep you company, lest you should sit with sorrows overlong and fall into a greater misery than is warranted.”

Sunset turned her head a little Pyrrha’s way, and a smile began to grow upon her lips. “I would be glad of your company,” she said.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered. She paused a moment. “I think that if our places were reversed, this might be the moment when you told me that we must put aside melancholy and fight on, for we must triumph here that we may win great glory at the Vytal Festival that is soon to come.”

Sunset covered her mouth with one hand. “Yes, well … possibly, I would say something like that, indeed. Would it work on you?”

“Not particularly, I’m afraid.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “Victory proved a balm for your misgivings that no words of mine could match.”

“And yet I welcomed your words, always,” Pyrrha assured her. “You know … you know that I am no longer the Champion of Mistral.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “No?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “They had the final match yesterday, in the Colosseum. Metella triumphed over Vespa.”

“I’m afraid those names mean nothing to me.”

“Vespa is … one of those faunus whom Blake would probably hate,” Pyrrha explained, “because she rather plays up to and upon her faunusness. She goes by Vespa the Wasp in the arena, and as you might guess, she is a wasp faunus — she has wings as her trait — and she wears a black and yellow banded cuirass and calls her semblance her sting.”

“What is her semblance?” asked Sunset.

“She shoots energy blasts out of her hands.”

Sunset frowned. “That doesn’t seem much like a sting to me.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “Nevertheless, she is quite talented. Not quite on the level of myself, if that doesn’t seem too proud of me, but her wings give her great speed and mobility, she has a powerful ranged attack, and she is no slouch with the sword or the knife either. In my absence, and in the absence of Arslan, I would have wagered on her to take the laurels, if I were inclined to wager.”

“But she didn’t,” Sunset said. “She lost to this Metella person, who is she?”

“She is … better than Phoebe, and more pleasant,” Pyrrha said.

“Damning with faint praise there, rather, aren’t you?”

“Moreso than she deserves, clearly, but … I confess I would not have rated her to win the champion’s honours and dedicate her spoils to Victory,” Pyrrha admitted. “Metella is also a faunus, a fish faunus of some description, and perhaps for that reason, she calls herself the Mermaid Knight. Her armour is steel, but she covers the metal up all over with painted seashells, beautiful to look at, but … in battle, she swings her greatsword around wildly, making Cinder seem a model of precision and finesse by comparison. She is … one of those fighters of whom people say ‘she has a lot of heart.’”

“You mean because they can’t think of any actual compliments?” Sunset asked. “And yet, she won. She beat the favourite with her speed and agility and sword skill.”

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said. “Though the odds were against her, she battled on, and she went the distance.”

“Is this the outline of a point that I can see emerging?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha let out the softest chuckle. “Yes, I think it might be,” she said. “I have — as you know, because I had unburdened myself to you — often felt … oppressed by the odds against us, and the odds against us are great. Salem, magic … so much that is so much grander than we are, and yet … like Metella, is it not fair to say that we have a lot of heart? And though it may appear that we lack other advantages, with that heart, may we not also triumph against the odds?”

“Winning that fight really went everywhere with you, didn’t it?” Sunset asked. “Head and heart alike.”

“Would you prefer that I be melancholy?” Pyrrha asked. “I could join you in your misery, and we could hope that in our respective despairs, we might offer consolation to the other.”

“Oh, no,” Sunset said. “This is … don’t worry; I like you this way, it is … it’s good to have you so full of hope. And you have a point; great powers have often fallen to unassuming heroes. Princess Twilight … might be offended to be called unassuming, but nevertheless. Nevertheless … nevertheless, I wish we were away from this place.”

Pyrrha placed a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “By tomorrow night,” she said, “we will be somewhere else, somewhere better than this.”

“Home?”

“That depends on what we find in Merlot headquarters, I think,” Pyrrha said. “But by tomorrow, we will be away from here, at least. So take heart and try and get some rest. I will watch over you.”

Sunset smiled. “I know you will.”

They set off again the next day, with their auras restored and Sunset's magic presumably, hopefully renewed as well. They headed down what had once been Mountain Glenn's Main Street, a sight as dismal and full of reproachful melancholy as the rest of this dead, decaying city. The fading names above the store fronts were often familiar, big chains whose names were known across the whole of Remnant, plus a few that were no longer extant but which Pyrrha guessed had been just as big in their time. Some of the shop windows proclaimed 'Grand Opening,' while others advertised the latest toy, gadget, appliance, game that had been popular when the walls fell. Just looking at it filled Pyrrha with a deep sadness, and she was very glad when they left the street behind them and continued towards the dark and looming tower that dominated the skyline.

The Merlot Industries headquarters was a colossal structure, a tall and thin black monolith rising up into the sky like a lance to pierce the heavens. It looked like the sort of place an evil sorcerer would make his home, and Pyrrha would not have been surprised to find that nevermores made their nests in the high reaches of the place. With good fortune, they would not notice the four huntresses down on the ground, so far away that they must seem like ants.

They encountered no more grimm as they crossed the open square that surrounded the Merlot tower on all sides. No beowolves, no ursai, and if there were nevermores here, they were not interested in Team SAPR. They approached the tower quickly and were halfway there when the earth began to tremble violently beneath their feet, shaking and shuddering as though the surface were about to split in two.

"What's happen—?" Jaune began. "Oh my God!"

The tower was falling. Explosions tore at the base of the long, black lance, and it began to crumble, chunks tumbling down as the enormous building collapsed inwards on itself. As it fell, an enormous cloud of dust and debris rose up and began to race towards them.

"Run!" Pyrrha shouted, but it was too late. Cracks were already racing along the ground, spreading out all around them, racing ahead of them; the chances of Pyrrha or Jaune escaping were almost none, but between Ruby's speed and Sunset's teleportation—

"Don't even think about it," Ruby said, as though she had read Pyrrha's mind.

And then the ground gave way beneath them, and they fell, down and down into darkness, while the dust cloud from the collapse passed overhead and blocked out all light of the sun.

Pyrrha felt the impact like a heavy blow, bruising her aura but not threatening it, nor even threatening to send it into the yellow, according to her judgement. More worrying was the way that she had been plunged into darkness, unable to see a thing all around her.

She leapt to her feet, Miló in hand and Akoúo̱ upon her arm. "Jaune? Sunset? Ruby?"

A ball of green light appeared over Sunset's head, illuminating their team leader as she got to her feet. "Here. Everybody, over here! Ruby? Jaune?"

"I'm coming," Ruby said. "I see you, hang on."

"Jaune?" Pyrrha called, slightly more frantically, now that he had been the only one to not respond. "Can you hear me?"

"Yep," Jaune said, with a groan. "And I can see Sunset too; just give me a sec."

Pyrrha could not restrain a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, but let's not do that again for a while, okay?"

A nervous laugh escaped between Pyrrha's lips. "Okay."

They regrouped around Sunset and the light that hovered above her head.

"Everyone okay?" Sunset said. "Sorry about the lack of magical solutions; it was too dark, and it all happened too fast."

"It's okay," Ruby said. "We're all fine, so it doesn't matter."

"We're back in the underground city, aren't we?" Jaune said.

"Looks like," Sunset said as she switched on the flashlight strapped to the end of her rifle. "I should still have the undercity maps on my scroll from when we were here last time, so we can find the nearest subway station and—"

"Leaving so soon? But doesn't this just make you even more curious about what’s going on? Surely, you can’t want to just walk away before you’ve even begun unravelling the mystery."

That voice, that all-too-familiar voice in that insufferably arch tone, echoed from the rocks all around them. Jaune drew his sword, and Ruby unfolded Crescent Rose.

"Cinder," Sunset whispered.

A flame sparking from nothing in the palm of her hand illuminated the face of Cinder Fall, looking as though it was her birthday and she'd woken to an enormous pile of presents waiting for her.

"Hello again.”

Author's Note

So, the grimm that attack Team SAPR in the waterway are the grapoids from Tremors, because I thought that would be cool. I make no apologies, especially since as I was writing the chapter I found this artwork from back when Shane still worked on RWBY showing that I was far from the first person to have the idea.

Rewrite Notes: The artwork is by Seshirukun, which I've had for over a year now in a surfeit of optimism as to how long it would take me to reach this point in the story.

The idea of grimm that are big enough to swallow their victims paralysing them until they die is a change from the original, where Sunset teleports herself out, but made sense to me when I was thinking about Roman Torchwick - and, for that matter, Pyrrha, who is menaced by a giant nevermore in Volume 3 and everyone acts as though this will kill her in spite of the fact that she has plenty of aura left.

The biggest change though, and the one that was most fun from my perspective, was the reversal of the conversation between Sunset and Pyrrha, which is not only a reversal of their roles in the original but also of their dynamic in the fic up until this point, instead of Pyrrha being the melancholy one and Sunset attempting to encourage her, here it is Sunset who is oppressed by misgivings and Pyrrha attempting to rally her spirits. It was neat to change things up a little in that regard.

The Enemy of My Enemy (Rewritten)

The Enemy of My Enemy

Pyrrha stepped forward, her body flowing like water into a guard with her shield held before her and her spear poised to strike as she placed herself protectively between Cinder and her team.

Ruby took a more direct approach and shot her.

Cinder raised her free hand, blocking the bullet … somehow. Pyrrha couldn’t work out how she was doing that; her semblance was something related to heat; that was how she was able to detonate her own arrows, how she was able to cause an explosion in the earth at the close of their duel, how she had been able to heat up Pyrrha’s arm; even the manipulation of the glass could be explained as some sort of superheating, but simply negating bullets like that? Could she be using convection currents to deflect them somehow? That wasn’t really what it looked like.

Could it be magic? But where from? She is not a pony, as Sunset is, she is from Mistral, and the only other kind of magic that we know of are the Maidens, and Professor Ozpin has them all kept safe and sound and secret.

So how is she doing that?

Cinder pouted. “Now that was just a little bit rude, wasn’t it? And quite unnecessary. I didn’t come here seeking battle.”

“Yet battle has found you as you have found us,” Pyrrha growled.

Armies manoeuvring upon the plain might not seek battle, but when they found each other, merely saying ‘I did not come here seeking battle’ would not be enough to stave off confrontation. Not when the enemy stood before them.

Time to finish what I started.

Her knees bent lower in preparation for her charge.

“Pyrrha!” Sunset’s voice cracked like a whip. She was silent a moment, her breathing heavy. “Don’t,” she said, quieter now, and more hesitant. “Ruby, lower your weapon.”

“Sunset?” Ruby asked, outrage coating her voice like syrup.

“If Cinder says that she did not come here for a fight, then I will not bring confrontation on,” Sunset declared. “I will … I will not take the risk. I do not wish any of your blood shed in this miserable place.”

'The risk'? The risk to who? Who is it that you’re protecting, Sunset? That was a harsh thought, an unworthy thought, a cruel thought to a dear friend, and yet … yet, Pyrrha could not unthink it.

Sunset supported me in the duel.

But she was not overly disappointed that Cinder had escaped with her life.

Pyrrha trusted Sunset. She trusted Sunset with her life, and if Sunset said that she would rather let Cinder escape with her life than risk the safety of any of Team SAPR in a fight with her now, then Pyrrha could not say that was not of a piece with Sunset’s thinking — cautious, if a little prone to short-termism. However … there was always something else when Cinder was involved, or Pyrrha feared there might be. A part of her wanted to grab Sunset by her shoulders and shake her, shouting ‘You are not kindred spirits! She is a monster, and she must be dealt with ere she does more harm!’

Another part of her remembered that Sunset had taken her side in the duel, uncomfortable as the whole thing had made her feel.

If it came to a fight, then Pyrrha had no doubt that Sunset would be on their side, but at the same time, she could not attribute Sunset’s desire to avoid battle wholly to their current situation. She could not escape the feeling that if they could somehow manage to go on not coming to grips with Cinder Fall, then Sunset would be much happier. She did not want the shadow to pass, only for it to keep its distance.

And that was cause for disquiet on Pyrrha’s part. It was why she had wanted to kill Cinder and banish the source of said disquiet for good and all.

All of which being said, there were valid reasons to indulge Cinder in her seeming desire to avoid battle, not least of which was the state of their auras after that fall; Cinder was likely to be in a better shape in that regard, and Pyrrha was not unmindful of the fact that the margin of her victory had been a narrow one. In another battle, where Cinder’s aura was full and Pyrrha’s was not, things might be different.

Although, by the same token, it will be four against one here instead of one against one.

Four against one, but very little room to manoeuvre and terrain with which we are not familiar and may conceal things to Cinder’s advantage.

Taking advantage of the ground had been how Cinder had come close to besting her in their first combat, after all; it would be foolish to ignore that.

So, yes, there were reasons to be cautious; Pyrrha just wished that Sunset had brought them up.

I am too hard on her, especially in this place which so badly affects her spirit.

Pyrrha kept her guard up, but straightened her legs into a less immediately aggressive posture.

“Why are you here, Cinder?” Sunset asked quietly.

“And why did you show yourself?” Jaune demanded. “If you didn’t want a fight, you could have just passed on by; it’s not like we saw you.”

“Why am I here?” asked Cinder.

Cinder blinked.

And then she blinked again, and rapidly at that. She was struggling to read the book in her hands, though it was only resting on her lap. She hadn’t noticed it at first because she hardly needed to read it — she knew so much of it inside out and could quote it from memory — but when she actually looked, when she focussed upon the printed words upon the page, it was all starting to blur a bit, becoming hard to decipher, like ancient carvings upon a stone worn down by years.

She frowned, pinching her brow as she moved the book a little closer. That was … an improvement, of sorts.

Were her eyes going? Did she need reading glasses? Her father had needed glasses to read, but Cinder hoped very much that she was not following in his footsteps in that regard. Apart from anything else, where would she put them when she was not reading? Was she supposed to wear them on a chain around her neck like some frumpy spinster librarian?

Hopefully, she was just tired, and it would pass.

“Cinder?” Emerald asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cinder grunted. She had still not entirely forgiven Emerald for that way that she had tried to interrupt Cinder’s duel with Pyrrha, although that lack of forgiveness was manifesting itself more in the form of a passive-aggressive shortness with her than anything else.

Considering how it could be manifesting itself, Emerald should think herself lucky.

If she had not acted, you might be dead.

Yes, I might be dead, and were I dead, I would not be forced to live with this shame.

As it was, shame was Cinder’s closest companion now. It was with her in the morning, it was with her in the afternoon, and it was especially with her at night, when all others were asleep and Cinder had no other to keep her company.

She could imagine Pyrrha laughing with her friends, gloating over her victory — well, perhaps not; Pyrrha was too modest to do her own gloating — but nevertheless, the imagined laughter rang in Cinder’s ears. And while Pyrrha might be too modest, too humble, too much of a good girl to brag about her own triumph, there were plenty of others willing to do it for her. Pyrrha’s victory was celebrated by her supporters, who crowed of her prowess and made so much of Cinder’s fall, while Pyrrha’s detractors rubbed salt in Cinder’s wounds by implying that they had staged the entire thing. Staged! It had been bad enough to suggest that the two of them were in cahoots, that Cinder was Pyrrha’s lackey to do her bidding, but to go farther than and suggest, not even suggest, to come out baldly and say that Cinder had intentionally and willingly lost, that she had been play fighting, that she had taken a dive — in every sense — like some unprincipled gutter trash without a shred of pride…

Had they no respect at all?

No. No, they did not. And why should they? Cinder was nothing but a loser; what respect was she owed by any of them?

By anyone?

“Emerald, I want you.”

Case in point.

Nevertheless, Cinder found herself glad of the distraction — either from pondering her humiliation or from wondering whether her eyesight was beginning to fail her — as she put down the book and looked up to see Tempest Shadow standing in the doorway.

“In this house,” Cinder said, “we say ‘please’ when we want something.”

Tempest raised one eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Well, we certainly do since you walked into the room again,” Cinder said dryly. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve become a rather frequent visitor of late; please don’t feel the need to force yourself to come all this way. I’m sure there must be many other weighty matters that require your attention.”

“It’s true that there is a great deal to keep in hand,” Tempest agreed, a smug smirk playing across her face. “You, by contrast, seem quite at ease.”

“I’ve taken the decision to step back from day to day affairs and await the coming together of my grand strategy,” Cinder declared airily. If you want to stand at the top of the tree, then get on and do it; I hope you fall flat on your face and die at the hands of Sunset or Pyrrha.

She was more than a little tempted to call Sunset and tell her Salem still had an agent within the walls of Beacon and her name was Tempest Shadow, but that … well, that might lead to an even tighter cage enfolding her, an even tighter leash upon her neck. No, better to let Tempest fail on her own, without any additional knives in the back from Cinder; then Salem would see that success was not so easily achieved as it might seem from within her far-off castle.

Of course, if Tempest failed, then that would mean that Cinder had failed as well — again — and that was not a thought that put her in a good mood.

Succeed with Tempest or fail with Tempest; neither choice was entirely to Cinder’s liking, but what other choices were there? As far as Cinder could see, she had no perfect options left to her.

Have I trapped myself within a box of my own creation?

Not entirely; if Tempest succeeds, it will be because she followed my plan, and Salem will remember that in time.

I hope.

If not … I will have her permission to die.

Honestly, it was enough to make her think about leaving: quit Salem’s service, set herself against Salem and Ozpin both. Show that she did not need, had never needed Salem or her gifts.

Except she feared to find out that it was not so.

And besides … the time for that would have been when she was feared and fearsome; now … now, she was a loser, valued only as a vessel, a living container. Who would take her seriously now? Who would fear her, shorn of Salem’s backing?

What could I accomplish? What would be the point?

Better to wait and bide my time and see that Tempest does not live to enjoy her triumph.

And in the meantime … cringe, obey, bend low, speak softly, do as I am told, adopt a slavish posture and a bondsman’s key. Is this for what I killed my stepmother and ran away? Is this for what I sought out the Dark Mother? Is this for what I have killed and lied?

Am I come to this?

What else am I?

What else can I be?

“I’m not complaining,” Tempest said. “Things are certainly easier without your ego getting in the way.”

Cinder breathed in deeply. “What is it that we can do for you?”

Tempest pointed at Emerald. “I need Emerald for a mission.”

“Me?” Emerald asked.

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Emerald is not yours to command.”

“Everything under Salem is mine to command,” Tempest said.

“Not yet,” Cinder growled.

“Shall we ask Mistress Salem and see if she agrees with you?” suggested Tempest.

Cinder snorted. “Is that how it is going to be from now on between us? Are you going to run to Mommy every time I don’t let you have your way and beg her to make me share the toys? By all means, go ahead; I wonder how long it will take before she gets tired of your importuning.”

“More time than it took her to get tired of your foolishness, I’m sure,” Tempest said dryly.

Cinder put her book to one side and got up out of the chair. “You think you’re very grand, don’t you? You think that you have risen so high. Are you already dreaming of leading operations in Mistral or Atlas? You have nothing but what Salem gives to you—”

“You had nothing but what was given to you,” Tempest replied, “and now it has been taken away, and you … you accuse me of being surfeited with pride; look at you! Sitting here with your airs and graces, your mannered pretensions: the Mistralian honour and those dusty old books. What has it gotten you?” Tempest took a few steps into the room towards Cinder. “You were on thin ice with Salem already, and you chose to take a hammer to it for … what? So that someone who hates you might think that you were brave?”

“The opinion of our peers, for good or ill, is all that we have,” Cinder said.

“Power is all that we have,” Tempest replied. “You can sit here, stewing in your wounded pride, dwelling in the past; the future will belong to me.”

“What is this mission that you want me for?” asked Emerald.

“Nothing too important,” Tempest said. “Grimm have been … it’s hard to say for sure what has been happening; they are … disappearing.”

“You mean they’re being killed,” Cinder said. “Isn’t that what grimm are for? To die for Salem?”

They’re much like us in that respect.

Tempest shook her head. “It isn’t death,” she said. “It is … Doctor Watts couldn’t entirely explain it very well; I suspect that Mistress Salem is the only one who could really explain, but … something is being done to them. They’re being turned, and turned from Salem’s will.”

“Something else is controlling the grimm?” Emerald asked, her eyes widening.

Tempest nodded. “Not in huge numbers, but it is a concern. You’re to find out who is responsible and deal with it. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened; the last time was at Mountain Glenn, just before the city fell. You should start your search there.”

“Alone?” Cinder asked. “You’re sending Emerald, alone, to deal with who knows who and their own army of grimm?”

“A small army,” Tempest said.

“Emerald is rather small herself, as you might have noticed,” Cinder replied. “I think you’re trying to get her killed.”

“You think that I would do something like that?”

“The alternative is that you’re an idiot, so I chose the option that was less insulting to you,” Cinder said dryly.

“This is somewhat concerning, but not our priority,” Tempest declared. “To expend more effort on this would be to jeopardise our main mission inexcusably.”

“Is that what General Ironwood teaches you at Atlas?” Cinder asked. “To send one person to their deaths because to send enough to keep them alive would be an inexcusable waste of effort?”

“General Ironwood teaches a lot of sentimental claptrap,” Tempest said. “I see things with a clear eye.”

“It’s too dangerous for Emerald alone,” Cinder said. “I won’t allow it.”

“It is not for you to allow anything,” Tempest said. She smiled. “And yes, that is me threatening to run to mommy.”

Cinder hesitated for a moment. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing. “Very well then,” she murmured.

Tempest smiled. Cinder wanted to rip her tongue out. “Excellent.” To Emerald she said, “Mountain Glenn. Best of luck.”

She turned away and walked away, ridding the library of her presence — for now, at least, until she decided to drop in again.

“I, um … I guess that—”

“Elocution, Emerald,” Cinder chided her gently.

“Right,” Emerald murmured. “I … suppose that I had best be leaving, hadn’t I?”

“You are not going anywhere,” Cinder said. “This task is, or at least has the potential to be, too much for you. That’s why I will be going myself, to Mountain Glenn and wherever else this trail leads.”

“Yourself?” Emerald repeated.

“It’s better than sitting around here,” Cinder replied. “There is a wolf inside of me, Emerald, and he craves feeding. I need … I need to prove that though I may have been bested by Pyrrha, there are plenty of others out there in the world who ought to fear. I need to do something, I need to fight, and ideally, I need to kill someone.”

“But Salem—”

“Has already done all to me that she can do,” Cinder said. “As she has made clear, she cannot afford to kill me, which means … I am untouchable.”

“For now,” Emerald said. “Later—”

“Then later, I will worry,” Cinder replied. “Today, I will get myself to Mountain Glenn and to the bottom of this.”

Emerald hesitated for a moment. “Why do you have to go alone? Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because I haven’t forgiven you yet,” Cinder said softly.

Emerald swallowed. “I was only trying to—”

“I know,” Cinder cut her off. “Nevertheless, you disobeyed my instructions, and for that … for that, I cannot yet forgive you. But, by the time that I return, I may have.”

Cinder chuckled. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here because … because there is another beast in the wood, and that cannot be tolerated. At the very least, it is … a matter of some concern. Isn’t that why you are here?”

“We’re here because someone has been sabotaging Beacon’s defences,” Ruby said, “and kidnapping faunus.”

“'Faunus'?” Cinder repeated. “Is that so?”

Sunset nodded. “In Atlas.”

“'Atlas'?” Cinder frowned slightly. “Why would … faunus and grimm?”

“You know about the grimm, then,” Sunset said.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Cinder replied. “In fact, I suspect that I know more than you do on that score. Someone has been … changing, the grimm. Those that are disappearing no longer respond to the commands of Salem.”

“Someone else is controlling the grimm?” Jaune muttered dubiously.

“So it would appear,” Cinder said. “You understand why this is a worrisome development, for both of us. For Salem, obviously, and for you … Salem is enemy enough to worry about, no, without some third party meddling in the game?”

“This is not a game,” Pyrrha growled. “But … you are right. If what you say is true—”

“If it were not so, why would I be here?” Cinder asked.

“To play games with us, how should I know?” Pyrrha snapped.

“The faunus that were kidnapped were experimented on,” Sunset said. “Could that be how—?”

“How the grimm are being controlled, or broken from control? I don’t see how,” Cinder said. “More likely that some mad scientist has his fingers in all sorts of unwise pies, pies that will burn his fingers off and worse.” She paused for a moment, before a smile spread across her face. “I’ve just had a wonderful idea! Since we are here on common purpose, why don’t we work together! Won’t that be fun?”

"No," Pyrrha said flatly.

Cinder tilted her head a little. "No to what?"

"To all of it," Pyrrha growled.

Cinder put on an affected expression of dismay. "Come now, is not the enemy of my enemy my friend?"

"You are not our friend,” Pyrrha said.

“Then what are we to do?” asked Cinder. “Go our separate ways, both following the same trail, both studiously ignoring one another, pretending we are not nearby, giving one another the silent treatment? Or, since we are not friends, are we to be enemies instead?”

Pyrrha hesitated, torn between the absolutely nonexistent objections that she would have to renewing the battle with Cinder and the knowledge that Cinder’s aura was probably in a healthier state than her own at present.

“Why would you want to help us?” demanded Ruby.

“There is historical precedent for it,” Cinder answered. “During the Great War, it was common understanding between the two armies that a truce would be in effect if the grimm descended on the battlefield.”

“You are the grimm,” Ruby pointed out.

“Well, not in this case, obviously,” Cinder replied, a note of impatience seeping into her voice, as though she thought Ruby was being deliberately obtuse.

“You didn’t answer Ruby’s question,” Jaune said. “Why would you want to help us?”

“We would be helping one another, would we not?”

“That is still not an answer,” Pyrrha said.

Cinder rolled her eyes. She was silent for a moment. “Because … because I’m bored, and I don’t want to play by myself. Do we not stand a better chance of success together than apart?” Her expression hardened as she took a step forwards. “Or do you think that just because you have defeated me once I have no value, that I am worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate?”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, we do not think that. We are … if we esteemed you little, we would not fret our response. But … wait.”

A shield of green energy appeared like a protective dome around Team SAPR, separating them from Cinder on the other side. Sunset's hands glowed with magic as she stepped in front of Pyrrha, between her and Cinder. "Just … wait a minute, okay?" Sunset turned her back on Cinder, to face the rest of her team. Her right hand glowed a little bright for a moment. "I've just cast a muffling spell, so she can't hear what we're saying about her. But I think we should consider this."

"What?" Ruby yelled in a high pitched voice. "But she's … she's the bad guy!"

"Not in this case, apparently," Sunset said.

"Assuming she's telling the truth," Pyrrha said. She didn't look at Sunset, but kept her eyes fixed on Cinder on the other side of the shield.

Cinder waved mockingly at her.

"If this was a trap that she'd set for us, then why not just attack?" Sunset asked. "If this is all Cinder, then why the Merlot connection? Since when has Cinder or Salem used androids? And why would allies of the White Fang be kidnapping Atlesian faunus? It doesn't make any sense for Cinder to be behind this one."

"That still doesn't mean that we can trust her," Pyrrha pointed out.

“Pyrrha, I am as glad as anyone else that your confidence is renewed,” Sunset began.

“But?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset sighed. “Much is uncertain in battle, you know that as well as I do; fortune … we are being offered an opportunity to avoid a battle which will be difficult—”

“With all four of us—” Ruby began.

“Why take the risk when we don’t have to?” Sunset demanded.

“For the reward?” Ruby said. “It’s like when Pyrrha was going out to fight and we all talked about what would happen if Cinder died, how Salem would have to retreat and start over again, how we could have, not peace, but we wouldn’t have to worry for the next four years. We can still have that, right here, right now.”

“Or we could have a grave,” Sunset said in a voice as heavy as a stone marker. “I let Pyrrha take the risk because, though heart and soul rebelled against it, because it was her risk, her choice, and because I am trying to respect the autonomy of your choices, but this … this involves all of us, including myself, and so, in this, I will have my voice heard: it is too great a risk.”

“Are our only choices between working with Cinder and fighting her?” Jaune asked. “Could we not just tell her to go away?”

“Assuming that she would,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Plus, as she pointed out, it would be ridiculous for us to work on this separately,” Sunset added.

“Hmm,” Jaune said wordlessly. “In that case … I think we should work with her.”

“What?” Pyrrha gasped, momentarily glancing away from Cinder towards Jaune.

“I’m sorry,” Jaune said. “I know that you don’t want to do this, I don’t really want to do this myself, but … if we fight Cinder, we’ll win. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, the four of us, working together; Pyrrha, you beat her on your own; if we all work together … but we’ll have lost aura, if we aren’t injured, and we’ll still have to try and figure out what’s going on, especially now, if what Cinder says is true. Someone else is controlling the grimm? Someone we don’t know? That … that’s bad. Salem is bad enough, but Professor Ozpin has been doing this for a long time, and he has records from his predecessors who passed down their knowledge to him; he knows what Salem wants, he knows how she acts, and he knows how to counter it. What does this other person want, who are they willing to hurt? If we have a chance to nip this in the bud now, I think we should take it.”

Ruby frowned. “Well … when you put it like that … I think you’re right. Working with Cinder … it’s a risk. But it’s better that we, as huntsmen, take the risk of working with Cinder, rather than other people take the risk of letting whoever this new enemy is get stronger.”

Pyrrha still kept her eyes fixed on Cinder, who would have been dead by now if looks could kill. "I do not like this.”

“You trusted that she was sufficiently honourable to meet you in single combat,” Sunset pointed out. “You don’t think that that same honour will compel her to honour any truce we make?”

Pyrrha scowled somewhat, in part because Sunset had caught her on the hip with that argument; it was very difficult to respond to. She had trusted Cinder’s honour, and that trust … Cinder had been worthy of it, if Salem had not. She had not betrayed the terms of their duel willingly — if her word to Sunset could be trusted, at least.

Why should Pyrrha trust her then, but not now?

Because it was only me at risk, then; we are all at risk now.

Because I fear Cinder’s effect on Sunset as much as her skill.

Nevertheless, unhappy though she was — deeply unhappy — it was nevertheless difficult for her to say with a straight face that Cinder could not be trusted. Pyrrha had, after all, already trusted her once.

And it was also clear that the mood of the team was against her in this; she had perforce to yield to it.

"Very well," she said, and tried not to grit her teeth too much.

Sunset looked at her solemnly. "This … this will be for the best," she said. "No good would come from a battle against Cinder in this place."

'In this place,' Pyrrha thought. Aye, that is what it comes down to, isn’t it?

Sunset frowned, but dropped the shield and presumably the spell as she turned to face Cinder. "The enemy of my enemy," she said, holding out one hand towards Cinder.

Cinder took it graciously. "Is my friend," she said. "This will be a lot of fun, just like when we hunted the Karkadann together outside of Mistral. Like old times, back again.”

Pyrrha stepped closer to Cinder. “If you betray my friends—”

“Did I not keep faith with you?” Cinder asked. “Did I not meet you at midnight as was agreed?”

“And then you fled,” Pyrrha said.

Cinder scowled. “That was neither my will, nor my doing.”

“Perhaps not,” Pyrrha murmured. “We will see, won’t we? If you are faithless here—”

“Then your vengeance will be violent, painful, and just,” Cinder said quietly. “As one of the Kindly Ones you shall be, and a Fury I will have earned with treachery. I would expect nothing less.” She smiled. “But fear not. I have never betrayed anyone, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“You’ve never betrayed anyone?” Jaune repeated incredulously. “What about all that time at Beacon you spent pretending to be one of us, pretending to be—?”

“Does the spy betray those whom they spy upon?” Cinder asked. “No, they wear their colours within their coat and practice deception upon the command of their true mistress, as did I. I was always Salem’s servant, and as Salem’s servant, I did her work. I betrayed nothing.”

“But not no one,” Sunset whispered.

Cinder glanced towards Sunset, her expression inscrutable.

“And now?” asked Jaune. “What would Salem think about you working with us?”

Cinder chuckled. “I’m sorry to puncture your vanities, but I’m afraid Salem doesn’t really care about any of you. You are … insignificant to her. Insects crawling upon the surface of the world. So she won’t really care whether we work together or not.” She smiled. “So, with all of that said, shall we get moving?”

She did not wait for a response, but turned her back on them and set off down the dark tunnels of black stone, her glass slippers clinking lightly upon the rock.

The enormous quantities of smoke that had been thrown up by the collapse of the Merlot building had begun to clear a little, the black fog that blocked out the sun decreasing to an ugly yellow haze that embraced the sky but permitted enough light to shine through for Pyrrha to see that they had not fallen so far as it might at first have seemed. They probably could, with a little effort, have made it to the surface without the need to find a subway station to help them do it.

But that was not the way that Cinder was leading them. Cinder was leading them deeper underground, where the surface would close in around them and they would be cut off from the light.

Again.

We defeated this place once; we will do so a second time.

Pyrrha glanced over her shoulder at Sunset, who was eyeing the tunnels that enclosed them warily, her ears drooping.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha whispered, hopefully softly enough that Cinder could not hear her. She smiled and hoped her smile spoke to Sunset in words that Cinder definitely could not hear.

Sunset managed a very small smile in response and nodded.

Pyrrha nodded also, and then looked around again to find Cinder looking at her over her shoulder.

Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was downturned. She, too, looked away without a word.

The collapse of the Merlot building had opened up great crevices in the earth, cracks leading straight down to the lower levels of the underground city, cracks that might be lethal to fall down if they put a foot wrong. Fortunately, there was sufficient room along the ledge of black stone down which Cinder led them that falling wasn't a serious concern.

They found a grimm at the bottom of the ledge, a single solitary creep who had either been separated from his brood or else was the sole survivor of the collapse. The creature's leg had been pinned underneath some falling debris, and it could not extricate itself. But, though it was snapping and snarling at first, when Cinder drew near, the grimm calmed down like a horse recognising a trusted master, and it even mewled in what seemed to Pyrrha an affectionate manner.

"Stay back," Cinder commanded as she advanced along the ledge alone towards the wounded creep. She knelt down before it, scratching its neck and stroking its face as though it were a dog.

"Good boy," Cinder whispered. "Easy now, atta boy."

The creep moaned and put its monstrous head in her lap. It almost seemed as though it might be crying.

"Easy," Cinder whispered softly. "Everything's going to be alright now. I'm about to make everything better."

A glass dagger appeared in her hand, and with that blade, she slit the grimm's throat. It appeared that creep died instantly or so nearly so as to make no difference. It didn't even have time to cry out.

Pyrrha could only stare astonishment as Cinder remained kneeling until the grimm had turned to smoke completely, with not a trace of it remaining. Only then did she get to her feet and face the huntsmen.

"You're surprised?" she asked.

"I … I don't understand," Ruby murmured.

"You would have killed it wouldn't you, young huntress? Just as you would kill any grimm I summoned to my aid because you're huntsmen, and all you can see are monsters."

"The grimm are monsters," Ruby said. "They kill, and they destroy, and they don't care who they hurt. They’re a danger to all mankind."

"And those are just their good points," Cinder replied dryly. “The grimm … the grimm are what the grimm were made to be. The God of Darkness created them to war, to fight, to kill, all at the command and by the will of a higher power. And ultimately, they will die, for a cause not their own, for someone who sees them as … disposable. In that way, they are not so different from huntsmen or Atlesian specialists.”

“We are nothing like the grimm,” Ruby snarled. “We fight—”

“For fat men who live within a day’s march of creatures who would freeze their blood if you did not defend them,” Cinder said. “And what thanks do you get for it, what appreciation, what acclaim do you receive for your ceaseless valour? What gifts has fate for all your chivalry?”

“Honour,” Pyrrha said. “Friendship.”

“Anguish,” Cinder replied, “and an early grave. Such do hearts heroic oftenest win.” She paused. "I gave that creature a more merciful end than any of you would have done; what else needs to be said upon the subject?"

“Uh … could you summon a horde of grimm?” asked Jaune uncertainly.

Cinder stared at them, and smiled, and turned away without quite answering yea or nay to Jaune's question.

Pyrrha let out a wordless growl between her lips. “Sunset—”

"I think I know what you're about to say," Sunset said. "Hang back, and I'll speak to her."

"I would rather do it myself," Pyrrha said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You? Why?"

"Because she needs to understand that we're serious," Pyrrha said, which was about as close as she could come to confessing that when it came to Cinder she feared that Sunset's judgement might be a little out of alignment as she could get without being unpleasant.

Sunset's mouth twisted, but she nodded. "Okay."

"Pyrrha," Jaune said. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. She smiled at him. "Watch my back, please?"

He nodded. "You got it. Always."

The other three hung back a little, letting Pyrrha quickly cover the ground with her long-legged strides until she had drawn level with the more casually sauntering Cinder. Cinder glanced at her out of the corner of one fiery eye.

"Are you here to give me a scolding?" she asked.

"I'm here to find out what you want."

"I've told you what I want."

"If you really want an alliance, then why are you being so deliberately unpleasant?"

"'Deliberately unpleasant'? This is… do you think I was being disingenuous?"

“You … you meant what you said?”

“Of course,” Cinder replied. “Is it really so surprising for you that I should feel sympathy for the creatures of grimm?”

“But not for their victims?” Pyrrha asked.

“And who are their victims?” Cinder replied. “Little men who grub at money with their dirty little hands, men who know what goes on behind closed doors but let the doors stay closed, doing and saying nought because to act would be inconvenient, men who will abuse a faunus, who will not stop to help a desperate child in need, men who allow a thousand petty evils to go on every day beneath their noses. Make no plea for the virtue of men, Pyrrha Nikos; I have seen more of the world than you, and I know the world’s deserving.”

She paused. “But you mistake me if you think I aim at the world’s destruction and the annihilation of mankind, though it may well deserve such.”

“Is that not what Salem desires?” demanded Pyrrha. “The death or subjugation of all things, once she gains the relics?”

“You would have to ask Salem what she aims at,” Cinder said lightly. “I am not her, and her goals are not mine.”

Pyrrha quickened her step still further, getting in front of Cinder and placing herself directly in her path. “Then what are your goals?”

Cinder stared at her, silent, not answering.

Pyrrha neither moved nor flinched, but waited for her answer.

“'Always be the best, the bravest,'” Cinder murmured. “'And hold your head up high amongst all others.'”

“A famous quote,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“Words to live by, no?”

“Many in Mistral think so,” Pyrrha agreed — somewhat.

“But not you?”

“I hope that I shall never be less than brave,” Pyrrha replied, “but there is more to life than this.”

“For you, perhaps.”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed. “Is that … is that all? Has that been the sum purpose of all this?”

“I…” Cinder trailed off. “What I want … what matters it to you what I want? Would you be persuaded of the justice of my cause?”

“Do you have a cause you think is just?” replied Pyrrha.

“I…” Again, Cinder failed to finish her thought, let alone her sentence. She glanced away. “I wish to do deeds, even as your namesake ancestor did, and to avenge the wrongs that have been done to me.”

“Those who wronged you are dead, as I understand,” Pyrrha said.

“Phoebe Kommenos lives.”

“Then challenge Phoebe!” Pyrrha cried. “Take her life, if you will; Mistral’s customs afford the right to you—”

“No,” Cinder said. “They do not. Because I was not gently born into the House of Nikos, I do not have a grand old name, why should the Lady Kommenos entertain my challenge?”

“Why should the world suffer for the wickedness of one woman?” Pyrrha replied. She frowned. “I … I fear that I begin to see why Sunset has hope for you.”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “You fear it?”

“I fear what it says for me that I understand someone like you,” Pyrrha said, “but you are skilled indeed, and if things had been different … you could have been my rival in the arena if fate had brought you there; you could… you could be a great huntress, if you wish to be, amongst the very best of huntresses, with as much right to hold your head up high as anyone.”

“But who remembers huntresses when they are gone?” Cinder asked. She smiled. “Emerald, in an effort to persuade me not to go through with fighting you, told me that when you are gone, Jaune will move on to some other lover.”

Pyrrha swallowed. Her throat felt a little tight beneath her gorget. “That…” Her voice became a trifle hoarse. “I do not wish to be thought selfish, therefore I will be a good girl and say that I would not begrudge him happiness.”

Cinder chuckled. “There’s only you and me here, Pyrrha; you can be as selfish as you want to be.”

“I do not want to be selfish,” Pyrrha said sharply. “That is the point.”

“And I do not want to be nothing,” Cinder said, her own voice sharpening in turn. “I … I would not be nothing,” she repeated, more quietly now. “But I will curb my tongue, if it please you, and endeavour not to give offence without cause, for the sake of our partnership. I … I really do hope that we may draw swords together ere this is done.”

Pyrrha stood there a little longer, blocking Cinder’s path, facing Cinder. Then she stepped aside. “It will come to that, I’ve little doubt,” she said. But I will not say that I look forward to it, nor that I am honoured by it.

Cinder said nothing further as she stepped past Pyrrha and strode on. Pyrrha did not immediately follow, but waited for Sunset to catch up with her.

"How did that go?"

Pyrrha sighed. “I do not know her mind,” she said. “I am not sure that even Cinder knows her mind; her motives are incoherent.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha glanced at her. “I suppose it is not, in absolute terms, but … I suppose I thought our enemy might be more committed to her cause.”

“Oh no,” Sunset murmured. “I, for one, have had quite enough of enemies who were committed to their cause.” She shuddered. “I, for one, am glad that Cinder’s mind is … not so made up that it cannot be changed.”

“That … I do not believe,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m sorry, Sunset, but she is too proud to bend in such a fashion.”

“So was I, once.”

“You are not her, and she is not you,” Pyrrha insisted. “You cannot … however poor her reasons, she remains our enemy. I cannot see that that will change.”

“Perhaps she won’t,” Sunset admitted. “But I … anyway, we should keep moving.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, we probably should.”

Cinder continued to lead the way, on and on through the lightless darkness, through corridors so devoid of feature or identifying markings that Pyrrha soon had to admit to herself that she was quite lost, with no idea of where they were in relation to the surface or anything else.

"Do you actually know where you're going down here?" Sunset asked.

Cinder stopped and half turned to face them all. "When I was last in Mountain Glenn, there was a part of the city the grimm would not venture into. A nameless fear dwelled there, something they could not properly explain to me. The White Fang soon learned that to send scouts into that part of the undercity was also a death sentence. We are aiming for the centre of that forbidden sector."

"You've known about all this since then, but you're only investigating now?" Jaune said.

"I've been very busy," Cinder said.

Busy preparing designs against us, most likely, Pyrrha thought.

They descended further beneath the surface. This wasn't like the parts of the city they had visited on their last trip to Mountain Glenn; this was not a city that happened to have been built underground. The passages they were moving through were part of a labyrinth of caves and tunnels carved out of the rock, part of an eerie subterranean world where ancient creatures might yet dwell … or where new ones might be making their home even now.

Pyrrha couldn't have said exactly how long they groped through such barely-more-than-lifeless tunnels, but eventually, they descended — literally, as the rock sloped down towards it — upon a sight more familiar: another railway yard, or a railway stop at least: two raised-up platforms connecting to buildings built into the rock itself so that only the smoothed-out fronts distinguished them, surrounding twin spurs of track that ran into the darkness. A few sections of mesh wire fence still stood here and there, though they were not connected now, and it was difficult to imagine who would have found their way down here to trespass on this place in any event.

A pair of buffers at the end of the rails signified that this was the final destination.

"I don't remember a stop here on the subway map," Sunset murmured as, with one hand, she reached for her scroll.

"It isn't on the map," Cinder said. "Which means that it was private and maybe even that whoever built it didn't want anybody else to know that this was here. Why?"

Before anybody could answer, a sound from up ahead drew their attention. It was a tapping sound, like something tapping on the metal of the railway track. Like a claw, perhaps.

Miló transformed into rifle mode as Pyrrha aimed it down the track and into the darkness; Ruby buried her scythe blade into the earth between the track spurs as a rest. Sunset raised her rifle to her shoulder, and a bow formed out of glass in Cinder's hands.

"A grimm,” Cinder murmured. “But not a friend.”

The light beneath the surface was murky, the air was stale, and Pyrrha's throat was starting to feel a little sore just from breathing it. Only the green glow of the crystals growing out of the rock tunnel walls and a few low orange lifts on the railway platforms provided any illumination at all. But as they waited, two more and brighter glows illuminated the darkness. At first, the green lights were all that could be seen, but as both lights and sounds grew closer, the creatures making both resolved themselves in the vision of the huntsmen. They were creeps, or at least, Pyrrha thought they were; they were larger than the average creep, larger than an alpha, in fact, both bulkier and much, much taller with high green spikes growing out of their backs like pilot lights, providing the illumination that had first drawn the eye. Their eyes were as green as the spikes that leapt out of their backs, and from out of their mouths, a green glow also spilled.

One waddled — in that, they were still creeps, it seemed — down the railway track, tapping its claws upon the metal rail; the other walked between the spurs.

The one upon the track stopped first, regarding the huntsmen — and Cinder — with its bright green eyes.

It opened its mouth to let out a croaking roar.

Crescent Rose's shot echoed in the cavern as Ruby fired. Cinder let a glass arrow fly from her bow. Both grimm were struck, the one shot by Ruby dying instantly, while the one pierced by Cinder's dart was only wounded, but both, as soon as they were struck, began to swell, exploding in a shower of green goop that, thankfully, was too far away to touch them.

"What was that?” Ruby demanded. “Since when do creeps explode?”

“Since someone started meddling with them,” Cinder replied.

“This is more than just taking control of the grimm,” Pyrrha said.

“I told you what I knew,” Cinder declared. “I now know more, as do you: that someone is not just mustering grimm but making them … different. These creeps were larger and would have been more dangerous if they had gotten close to us. If all grimm are the same — large beowolves, larger ursai — then it is all the more urgent that we discover who is behind this and stop them.”

“We need to find out where they’re coming from and who is creating them,” Sunset said.

“How?” Pyrrha asked. “I would have said that if we follow the rails to the end of the line, then we should find answers, but … here we are, at the end of the line, and there’s nothing here.”

She leapt up onto one of the platforms and kicked open a door set into the rock-face of the tunnel. She kept her rifle raised to her shoulder, her eyes peering into the gloom as she swept her gaze from side to side. She could see nothing, and not just because it was badly lit but because there was nothing here to see.

“Here we are, at the end of the line,” she said, turning away from the door, “and there are no answers.”

“We’re at an end of the line,” Cinder said. “But we are also at a beginning. Trains can go two ways.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, “but I can imagine trains heading towards the corporate headquarters, but where would they be going from the headquarters?”

“I don’t know,” Cinder said, “and none of us will know unless we follow the rails.”

“We should take a good look around first,” Sunset said. “There might be something, however small, that gives us some kind of answers.”

She glanced at Pyrrha, as if checking that Pyrrha took no offence from it. She didn’t; she had only glanced around a single room after all. She was quite willing to admit that she hadn’t conducted a detailed search. It was just that this place looked so deserted — and for such a long time — that it was hard to see that there was much chance of anything turning up here.

As it happened, she was not entirely correct about that. Although she was right that there was nothing here, as they searched the immediate vicinity of the railway yard, it was Jaune who noticed something.

“Did you ever notice that, when you haven’t cleaned your bedroom for a few months, a lot of dust builds up in places?” he asked.

The other members of Team SAPR — and Cinder — stared blankly at him.

Jaune let out an exasperated sigh. “None of you? You all kept your bedroom spotless?”

“Dad wouldn’t let me go outside unless I’d done all my chores,” Ruby said.

“The, um, the maids always kept my room and belongings very clean,” Pyrrha said, in a slightly shamefaced tone. She didn’t want to draw attention to the vast difference between their upbringings, but the truth was that she really had no idea what he was talking about.

“I used magic to clean my room,” Sunset said.

Cinder chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“What?” Sunset said.

“I just find it difficult to believe that you used the power to bend the very fabric of the universe to your will in order to do chores,” Cinder said. “It’s almost disgustingly frivolous.”

“It’s only frivolous if the power is rare,” Sunset said.

“Perhaps,” Cinder said. “And as for you two: well, of course, you had servants to do everything for you, and you are such a child, aren’t you?” She shook her head once more, with even greater dismissal implied. “And as for you,” she said to Jaune, “let’s just say letting that amount of dirt build up isn’t one of my life experiences.”

Pyrrha did her best to ignore the personal attacks from someone who was, by her own account, trying her best; honestly, having a chip on her shoulder about Pyrrha’s background was the least of Cinder’s sins, and of all her faults, the one to which she was the most entitled. Pyrrha had enjoyed a very privileged upbringing in many ways, after all.

“Please,” she said, “go on, Jaune.”

Jaune glanced at Cinder. “Uh, so, as I was saying, if you let the dust build up, and then you start to move things, you’ll find that they leave marks where there isn’t any dust … because it all went on top of what was there. Like a lamp. Or that book that Aunt Orange gave me that I never read … anyway, I was taking a look around here, and I saw this.”

He gestured to the ground behind him, not too far from the buffers that marked the end of the railway line. It wasn’t something that Pyrrha would have paid any attention to, but now that Jaune had brought it up and explained what they were supposed to be looking at, she could see that dust was lying unevenly upon the ground: there were squares where it was an altogether lighter dusting, not to mention footprints where the dust was thicker.

“Do you guys think that those squares are about the right size to be the cages that we saw in the Emerald Forest?” Jaune said.

Sunset stared at them for a moment, and then nodded. “So you think—”

“I think that once they were full, they were brought here, then loaded onto a train and taken … wherever the tracks go.”

“Which brings me back to my original point,” Cinder said. “We need to follow the tracks and see where they lead … and where those trains were headed.”

Since it seemed that, as abandoned as the yard might seem at the moment, it was in use or had been very recently, there was nothing to be said in objection to her point unless anybody wanted to object purely on the basis of who was making it. Nobody did, and so, they began to follow the rail line laid out before them into the darkness.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Ruby said. “If this train line is being used for something, why does it look so abandoned right now? Like … those footprints could have been made by the robots that we found, right?”

Pyrrha thought back to the androids that they had found destroyed in the Emerald Forest. “Yes, they might have been about the right size.”

“Then where are they?” Ruby said. “Why didn’t we find anything there? Or anyone?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Cinder said. “We haven’t found anything because our presence has not been completely unanticipated.”

“Whoever is behind this knew we were coming and so they started cleaning house,” Sunset said. “They packed up all their stuff and then demolished the building for good measure so that we wouldn’t find anything. That makes sense. Blake said that, in Atlas, the kidnapper was quite concerned with covering their tracks, including blowing up their own ships and aircraft so that they couldn’t be searched for intelligence.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “That’s a rather passive way of preserving security.”

“What do you mean?” Jaune said.

“She means that it’s surprising that more than a couple of perverted creeps haven’t been sent to harm us yet,” Cinder said. “I’m inclined to agree, although I expect that we’ll run into some kind of welcoming committee some time soon.”

They followed the train tracks down a tunnel which was, at times, so dark that they couldn’t even see the tracks; or at least, Pyrrha could not. Cinder always seemed completely confident in where she was going, and although Pyrrha was certainly willing to believe that Cinder affected a greater confidence than she possessed, in this case, she believed that Cinder was more confident than the rest of them, more sure of herself. Pyrrha could even believe that Cinder saw better in the dark than the rest of them. She was like a magician, except she didn’t even need to perform tricks to give the impression of possessing greater than human powers and abilities — not that there were not tricks; that business with the fire was a clever use of dust. It was the way that she bore herself, the way she acted, the way in which she showed no fear before even the most skilled opponent. She acted as though she was more than human, as if she had cast off the human frailties and vulnerabilities that the members of Team SAPR were shackled by, and by the act, she made herself seem more than she was. More than she could be.

Yet she is only human after all, and being human, she can be defeated.

They arrived, after some time of following the railway line and finding nothing at all but railway line, and at some points, a few abandoned crates that had been dumped here and there without any rhyme or reason that Pyrrha could determine, in front of a set of metal gates set into a fence dividing one part of the underground off from the rest. At first, Pyrrha was uncertain why that was necessary — considering that this was already a secret railroad, who would be allowed to see one side of the fence who would not be allowed to see the other? — before she noticed that a part of the metal wall appeared to be broken down by some great force, and she wondered if the question was not who was intended to be confined behind it, but rather, what?

The five of them weren’t the only ones to arrive before the gate, or rather, when they got there, they found a small railway cart, with a modest engine built into it and, more importantly, a bomb loaded onto its back.

“Interesting,” Cinder said.

“That’s one way to put it,” Sunset muttered.

“Think about it,” Cinder said. “I doubt this bomb has just been sitting here since the abandonment of the city.” She walked closer, the only one to do so. In fact, she walked right up to the bomb and made a careful inspection of it. “In fact, it looks very new to me, and high yield too. I think this was placed here quite recently to catch anybody who might come snooping around the ruins of the Merlot headquarters.”

“Is it active?” Jaune asked.

The bomb beeped.

“Now it is,” Ruby said.

“You had to ask, didn’t you?” Sunset said.

“If it goes off, it will probably blow a hole in the surface that will make the collapse of the Merlot building look like child’s play, not to mention burying us all beneath tons of debris, even if we do survive the blast,” Cinder said, sounding very calm for someone discussing her impending demise as though her own life — and the lives of Team SAPR — meant nothing to do her. She was even smiling. “However, fortunately, there’s a chasm a little way down the rail line that we can drop this down, and then it should explode quite harmlessly.”

Ruby said, “How do you—?”

“A little creep whispered it in my ear before they disappeared,” Cinder said casually. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Better than send the train down the tracks away from us?” Sunset said. “No, no, I don’t.”

Cinder smiled. “The stage is yours then, Pyrrha.”

“Excuse me?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m not an idiot, Pyrrha,” Cinder said. “Your semblance is magnetism, isn’t it? You’ve kept it secret for now, but you needed to go all out in order to win against me, so you let it off its leash, as it were. There’s no other explanation for how you were able to manipulate your shield like you were.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Indeed,” she murmured. “As you say, I needed to use every weapon at my disposal in order to defeat you.”

“For which honour I am very grateful,” Cinder said, inclining her head a little. “Now, if you would be so good?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “Step back, everyone.”

Only Cinder was standing close to the bomb, but she obediently shuffled backwards as Pyrrha raised her hands.

The bomb beeped again.

Pyrrha’s hands covered with a thick black outline as she mustered her semblance, flinging the metal gates open with a thunderous crack, revealing more track before them leading off into the darkness.

“I hope you’re right about this hole,” Sunset muttered.

“It’s there,” Cinder assured them.

The bomb beeped again.

Pyrrha focussed her semblance upon the train cart, flinging it out in a sharp shove that sent the train flying down the tracks, rattling upon the rails, rolling into the dark and out of sight.

The clattering of the wheels upon the tracks echoed off the walls of the cavern and the tunnel for a moment, then there was silence.

Then there was an almighty bang. The world around them trembled, and a little dust fell from the ceiling to land upon their shoulders, but it didn’t start to crack and crumble and fall upon them. Plus, they weren’t blown up.

The echo of the explosion and its attendant after-effects faded into silence, and Cinder began to applaud.

Her applause soon ceased as a different kind of sound filled the stale air all around them. The sound of paws upon stone, the sound of claws scraping and hooves tapping, the sound of growling and snuffling and snarling and hissing.

The sound of grimm on the approach, and it was coming from all around them.

The members of Team SAPR bunched closer around each other, weapons at the ready, turning in all directions looking for where the threat would come, or where it would come first.

“These aren’t your grimm, are they?” Sunset said.

“No,” Cinder said, conjuring her bow into her hands. “These are the twisted and the perverted, the servants of our mutual enemy.”

“But you can sense them right?” Sunset said. “So how many are we talking about?”

“I would say roughly … a lot of them,” Cinder said.

“Guys?” Jaune said, as he looked behind them.

They all looked. The first grimm had started to appear: all of them the larger, green-tinted versions, the ones that Cinder called abominations and perversions — her grimm, of course, were natural and wonderful, but that was perhaps an argument to have another time when they weren’t in immediate danger — the ones with extra large spikes and additional bone plates and emerald eyes that glowed in the dark. Creeps, beowolves, boarbatusks, even an enormous green ursa that was so large, it nearly took up the whole of the tunnel down which it advanced.

They all bore down upon the team and Cinder, howling and roaring and shrieking as they came.

“Run!” Sunset yelled.

They ran. Jaune turned for a moment at the gate and flourished his sword, creating a wall of ice in the open gateway, but the grimm smashed through it in moments and battered down the rest of the wall too as they raced to pursue the huntsmen and Cinder. The next few moments, the next minute or so that followed, the next however long it was, Pyrrha couldn’t be sure, because it was all a blur of green grimm howling and snarling. She remembered shooting, she remembered lashing out with Miló in spear and sword form, she remembered the bang of Crescent Rose and the green bolts of Sunset’s magic, she remembered Jaune shouting, she remembered rose petals falling and Sunset’s jacket burning as she activated the fire dust she had infused it with, Pyrrha remembered creeps springing up out of the ground, she remembered more grimm appearing from every direction, but she couldn’t have placed those events in a coherent order, she couldn’t have said exactly what happened and what proceeded from what. It was all a blur as the adrenaline took over, and all that mattered was fighting back and trying to stay alive while they escaped.

But she remembered Ruby most of all. Ruby was everywhere, her red cloak streaming behind her as she darted back and forth in all directions in a blur of rose petals. She sniped creeps from afar and made them blow up, tossing any mutated grimm unfortunate enough to be nearby upwards or backwards with the force of the blast. She ran back and forth, dragging her scythe behind her, cutting through even these larger and stronger grimm. She took the head off the giant green ursa and toppled it to the ground. She led the grimm upon a merry chase that gave the others no small degree of much-needed respite from the ever-growing horde that pursued them. She was so fast they never caught her, never pinned her down, never dealt her more than a single blow before she escaped their reach. Her expression was fearless as she practically flew before the grimm, daring them to chase her and knowing that they would never catch her.

Until one creep popped out of the ground right in front of her, when she was moving too fast to change course easily, and swelled and exploded right in her face. Ruby, who had so far escaped much harm or damage at the hands of the grimm, took the full brunt of the blast. It hurled her backwards, and her cry of pain drew Pyrrha’s attention.

Pyrrha’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the unmistakable ripple of shattering aura pass over Ruby’s body.

Ruby flew through the air, her eyes closed, her cape fluttering, her hair bouncing up and down as she fell slowly, so slowly, before hitting the black stone of the surface with a thud that was heavy, so heavy that it caused Pyrrha’s heart to skip a beat with fear. She kicked the boarbatusk that was worrying her away and ran towards Ruby, who lay on the ground unmoving, unresponsive, eyes closed as another pair of boarbatusks, small by the standards of these green-tinted grimm, advanced upon her.

An enormous blast of magic from both of Sunset’s palms hit one of them in the flank, shattering its armour plates and burning straight through its midriff like so that there was a hole in its body by the time it fell over dead. Jaune reached Ruby before Pyrrha did, yelling inchoately as he swung his sword into the grimm’s face, slashing at its mask and tusks, hitting it with his shield, knocking it onto its side through sheer furious force before he cut off its head.

Then Jaune turned to Ruby. He threw himself over her, covering her small body with his own larger and more armoured form as he began to glow, using his semblance both to restore Ruby’s aura and to strengthen his own.

Pyrrha cried out as a beowolf leapt for his back. She shot it, but it barely seemed to feel the impact; certainly, it did not stop its flying leap upon both Jaune and Ruby.

What did stop it was the green light of Sunset’s telekinesis that enveloped it, holding it still before Sunset gestured with one hand and threw the tainted creature of the grimm away into the darkness.

Which left her vulnerable to another beowolf which had snuck up behind her and slashed at her back with its claws in a series of brutal swipes. It didn’t seem to care that Sunset’s back was ablaze with fire dust, it didn’t seem to care that both its forelegs were on fire; all that mattered was that it had slashed Sunset across the back hard enough to knock her forwards, and then it hammered the ground hard enough that a row of green spikes just like those on its back erupted out of the rock to throw Sunset up into the air again like a mistreated doll. Pyrrha changed direction, going to Sunset’s aid now as she hurled herself at the grimm with the burning legs. She threw her shield, striking the beowolf on the head and stunning it as she slashed with her spear, pirouetting in place while she whirled it around, kicking it, shooting it as she leapt upwards in a flying spinning kick, anything to take it down. Down it went, but there were so many more of them. So many, and so strong.

“Are you alright?” Cinder demanded as she carved her way towards them, hacking a beowolf to pieces as it sought to stand against her. “Are you alright?” she repeated as green ooze dripped from her obsidian blades.

“I’m fine,” Sunset said, raising one hand, but as she tried to get to her feet, she stumbled a step and sank back to her knees once more.

“No, you’re not,” Cinder said. “Pyrrha?”

“I am fine,” Pyrrha said.

Cinder nodded, a fey smile upon her face, wild, almost exultant despite their circumstances. “Then let this be the hour when we draw swords together,” she said, and she laughed aloud, a laugh like a wild wind that rattles the windows and tears up the trees to their very roots, a laugh that struck the ceiling of the tunnel that enclosed them. “Jaune, carry Ruby out of here; Sunset, go with them. Pyrrha and I will hold them off.”

“Are you sure about this?” Jaune asked, though even as he asked, he picked up Ruby’s unconscious form, cradling her in his arms.

Pyrrha nodded. “I’m sure. Go. I’ll protect you.”

Sunset shook her head. “I can’t … I can’t just—”

“Go, Sunset!” Cinder snapped. “Go; you are half spent already.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “You can; go with Jaune and Ruby.” She smiled. “No goodbyes.”

Sunset blinked. “No goodbyes,” she whispered.

And so the others retreated down the tunnel, while Pyrrha and Cinder turned at bay like lionesses standing guard over the cubs as the hunt comes baying, facing the mass of green grimm that bore down upon them.

Cinder’s smile was ecstatic, a bright light in the darkness, a sharp, fierce thing like a knife. “And now, Pyrrha, enemy of my soul,” she said, “let us go and either fall, yielding glory to another, or else winning great glory for ourselves.”

Pyrrha raised Akoúo̱, and drew back Miló for a slashing stroke. “I will go,” she declared, “but I will not fall.”

Cinder laughed. “That’s the spirit.”

And so they went. That was the heroic theme, passed down from the earliest Mistralians: they must go, no matter what awaited them. As a guide, it was far better, Pyrrha thought, than striving to be the best or the bravest. Go forth, to whatever end.

And forth they went, charging the grimm, drawing all the bloated, mutated, swollen green beasts towards them, meeting their brute strength with aura, and courage and skill, for Pyrrha. And with sheer ferocity, in Cinder’s case.

Pyrrha fought as she had been taught to fight, by Chiron, by her mother, by years honing her skills in the arenas of Mistral; she danced amongst the grimm, Miló lashing out, Akoúo̱ turning strokes aside when she did not fling it forth to stun or even decapitate her enemies. She switched her weapon fluidly from spear to sword and back again, thrusting with one, slashing with the other, keeping the grimm at bay from a distance one moment and then closing in with a flurry of blows the next, Miló a red-gold blur around her as she twirled and whirled and danced and spilled this green fluid upon the black stone.

Cinder, on the other hand, did not dance, though she wore the shoes for it; rather, she tore into the grimm, that smile fixed upon her face as though it had been fused there, wielding her black sword as a single greatsword, just as she had done for a time during her duel with Pyrrha, slashing with the long weapon as though she were scything through a field of wheat. She used the greatsword until the grimm pressed too close around her, and then she formed her glass into the pair of scimitars, hacking with left hand and with right, carving the grimm like banquets fit for the hounds. Sometimes, she would leap up, above the grimm, briefly fusing her swords into a bow to rain down arrows on them, but always, Cinder would land, and the swords would return, and she would hack and slash as fiercely as before.

Many times, they were separated by the dense mass of glowing grimm, and many times, they fought their way back to one another’s sides, only to be borne apart once again; they were like sticks floating upon the surface of a river, brought together by the current one moment, then flung apart the next. Sometimes, they managed to stay together for a little while longer, even fighting back to back as the grimm pressed close all around them, striking out at the snarling, howling, fang-baring faces that were visible amidst the press of bone and black and eerie green.

And the grimm fell before them, no match for Pyrrha’s silent virtue or for Cinder’s laughing fury. Beowolf, boarbatusk, even ursa, they fell to the two Mistralian warriors like trees before the woodsman’s axe. In their duel, Pyrrha’s virtue had been pitted against Cinder’s fury, but now, virtue and fury were aligned together, and the grimm could not stand before it.

At least, not at first. There were so many grimm. They fell like trees, but trees from a vast forest, a forest that stretched on and on for miles with no ending. Just so did more grimm pour up the tunnel, and though none tried to slip past Pyrrha or Cinder — at least, none that survived — Pyrrha felt her arms, her legs beginning to grow heavy, her movements with Miló and Akoúo̱ becoming a little less precise; she still had her aura, she had not been struck, but even aura could only do much to ward off the weariness of constant fighting.

How long can I keep this up? How long can Cinder?

How many more grimm are yet to come?

Cinder’s chest rose and fell. She looked weary also, her back sagging a little, her swords hanging by her sides. She glanced at Pyrrha.

“Do you want to live, Pyrrha Nikos?” she asked.

“What?” Pyrrha replied. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Do you want to live?” Cinder asked again. “Do you want to die gloriously, in the finest Mistralian tradition and be honoured with a gilded statue ten feet tall, or do you want to live?”

“I want to live!” Pyrrha shouted. “I want to live, and I want to protect the others, but—”

“Then stand back!” Cinder cried, and as she cried, a fire sprang up out of Cinder’s left eye, forming a golden blaze around it.

Cinder let her blades of glass fall to the ground as she spread her arms out wide on either side of her. She began to rise, to float as Sunset sometimes floated, the way that Jaune’s sister Rouge had floated, only Cinder rose higher than just a few feet above the ground, she rose up to near the ceiling of the chasm as dark storm clouds gathered all around her, and the wind blew through the cave, though Pyrrha could not tell from when it came; still, it blew nevertheless and whipped Cinder’s long black hair around her.

Lightning rained down from the clouds growing around her, striking the grimm that charged up the tunnel towards them, burning them, bursting them, skewering them through their heads, destroying them. And fire, fire leapt from both of Cinder’s hands to fall to earth, forming a wall of flame in front of Pyrrha. The fire filled the cave, even as the lightning continued the fall, and as the fires burned and the lightning fell, so the grimm died, their roars turning to screams as the flames consumed them all.

What is this power? Pyrrha thought as she watched the green grimm that had a moment ago seemed so mighty and so terrifying wither and perish in Cinder’s fire, screeching and shrieking and panicking as they burned. It was like nothing she had ever seen before; the most powerful semblance could not do so much. To conjure the tempest within a cave? To bring forth fire on such a scale could not be dust, and yet, how else was it being done?

Magic? Could it be anything else, and yet … how? What magic? Where had Cinder acquired such power?

And why did she not use it against me?

For, as Pyrrha watched the flames pour forth from Cinder like molten gold, one truth stood out to her, however uncomfortable, as inescapable.

If Cinder had used this power that she possessed in their duel in the forest, then undoubtedly, she would have triumphed, and Pyrrha…

Pyrrha would be dead.

So why am I alive?

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Two big changes here, the first being the addition of a scene with Cinder explaining just why she decided to go to Mountain Glenn - and a shout-out to Kiue Jin for being pretty much spot on with their guess about that - as a result of her feelings of inadequacy, albeit also to protect Emerald.

The other change being the conversation between Pyrrha and Cinder, with Cinder being less of a smirking jackass and actually showing some humanity which helps Pyrrha to understand her a little better.

The Island of Doctor Merlot (Rewritten)

The Island of Doctor Merlot

“I’m going to talk to her,” Pyrrha said.

“Yeah,” Jaune murmured. “I thought that you might want to do that.”

Pyrrha glanced at him. “Do you … not think that I should?”

Jaune hesitated, not quite meeting Pyrrha’s eyes. “I … I get why you want to talk to her, but … what good is it going to do? What if … what if tempers get heated and you get into another fight?”

“I don’t want to fight with her,” Pyrrha replied. “I just want to understand.”

“Can you be sure that Cinder feels the same way?” asked Jaune.

“Considering what I want to talk to her about, it would be rather ironic if Cinder wanted to fight me now,” Pyrrha said dryly. “And I think … I believe Cinder when she says that she doesn’t want to fight with us.”

“You believed Cinder before,” Jaune pointed out.

“And she kept faith with our agreement,” Pyrrha reminded him. “That is not at issue; only why she did not fight me with … everything that she was capable of.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “Is it … is it okay if I say that I’m … glad that she didn’t? That power…” He trailed off, his instincts warring against his desire to avoid disloyalty.

“I know,” Pyrrha said, acknowledging that which he did not wish to say, that if Cinder had put forth that power against her which she had used against the mutant grimm, then the outcome of their battle would almost certainly have gone differently. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to know why she did not do it, or why she did what she did. She was willing to die rather than employ all the weapons at her disposal. Why?”

Jaune didn’t reply.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha said. “Only Cinder can answer that question.”

“Glory to you, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Was that a lie? Has this all been an elaborate joke?

Pyrrha even began to wonder if Cinder had lied to Sunset about her being unaware of Salem’s decision to save her from death at Pyrrha’s hands; if she had staged the whole thing — another dose of irony, that, if it turned out the fight had been staged, just as Pyrrha’s critics alleged, only by Cinder and not by her — knowing that she would be safe in Salem’s care.

Except she couldn’t think why Cinder would do such a thing; again, the only person with the answers was Cinder herself.

Everyone was giving Cinder something of a wide berth at present; it felt to Pyrrha almost as if the rest of the team was waiting for her to speak to Cinder, to answer the questions that plagued her.

She had put it off as the boat wound its way through the inland waterways of Vale, heading down the river, through the Forever Fall, passing beneath great trees with their leaves of red which sometimes drifted down to land upon the deck of the boat. There was one at Pyrrha’s feet right now, a red-gold maple leaf which, caught by a sudden gust of wind, blew in Cinder’s direction.

It felt almost like a sign.

Now, they were almost out of the river and onto the open sea, and it felt to Pyrrha as though she had delayed for long enough already.

Ruby was sat on the roof of the boat, legs crossed, Crescent Rose resting upon her legs, staring at Cinder with a look as though she would rather be looking at her through the scope of her rifle.

Sunset was out of sight of Pyrrha, but Pyrrha thought that she was on the other side of the boat cabin.

Jaune and Pyrrha were stood on the port side of the boat, with the water passing by beneath them — or rather, they were passing by the water as the vessel bore them on, watching Cinder.

Cinder herself was standing at the prow, one foot raised, her glass slipper planted upon the gunwale as the breeze, getting stronger the closer to the sea they came, blew through her black hair.

She looked like she was posing for a photoshoot. Or perhaps she was just posing for her own image, for the story that she was telling her own mind in which she was the great hero, Pyrrha of The Mistraliad reborn, a righteous avenger pitted against despicable adversaries.

What story did she tell when we fought?

“Will you wait here, please?” she asked Jaune.

Jaune bit his lip for a moment, and did not look particularly enthused about any of this, but nodded, however glum a nod it was.

“Sure,” he said.

Pyrrha smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek with one hand, before standing up on her toes to kiss him, a swift kiss and a gentle one, a light brush of her lips against his.

“I just … I need to … I want to hear what she has to say,” Pyrrha told him. “I don’t know how long this will take.”

She turned away from him, her long ponytail whipping about her as she turned and walked towards Cinder.

There was little sound upon the boat — no one else was speaking to one another — and so, she could hear her footfalls clearly as they echoed upon the metal deck. The wind blew past her, brushing her face, stroking the skin of her shoulders, running its fingers through her ponytail and pulling it behind her somewhat.

Cinder did not notice — or affected not to notice — her approach until Pyrrha was close at hand.

“Pyrrha,” she said, turning to face Pyrrha with a slight smile upon her face, a smile that did not quite reach her amber eyes in Pyrrha’s opinion. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“How long have you been a Maiden?” Pyrrha asked.

The smile remained fixed on Cinder’s face. “I don’t see that—”

“It wasn’t just in the last couple of days,” Pyrrha said, “was it?”

The smile slid off Cinder’s face. “No,” she said quietly. “No, it’s been … longer than that.”

“Then why is this the first that we’re learning of it?” Pyrrha asked, her voice quiet but sharp.

Cinder blinked. “Are you … are you upset about that? Are you upset that I fought you as a warrior, not as a Maiden?”

“Have I not cause?”

“No!” Cinder snapped. “No, you do not have cause, you … you vain and selfish girl; how dare you try and make this all about yourself when I am the one who is suffering!”

“'Suffering'?” Pyrrha repeated. “You claim that you are suffering?”

“Oh, now you not only see fit to make this entirely about yourself, but you claim the right to judge whether I do or do not have cause to feel myself aggrieved!” Cinder shouted. “Can you have any idea what it is like to go through life convinced that you are something, that you are gifted, blessed by the gods of old, and then, when you are … when you are tested, when you are given the opportunity to prove yourself equal to your imaginings, then you find … you find that you are less than you had believed yourself to be. You cannot imagine—”

“That is my life,” Pyrrha said quietly.

Cinder fell silent at the interruption, as though Pyrrha’s words had, like a sword, cut the thread of her thoughts and left them to drop to the ground like severed rope.

“You … truly?”

“Does it surprise you?” Pyrrha asked.

Cinder shrugged. “I … what does someone like you, born to the most august line in Mistral, blessed with wealth and—?”

“Talent?” suggested Pyrrha.

Cinder paused for a moment. “What do you have to prove to anyone?”

“'Have'? Nothing, perhaps,” Pyrrha admitted. “Although, as a scion of one of the most august lines in Mistral, I must perforce earn the privileges of that name through service—”

“Not all who are well born in Mistral feel so.”

“I am not an amalgam or an average of all those who are well born in Mistral; I am myself,” Pyrrha replied. “My own person. And I have always … I have always believed that I was … I was capable of some great deed, of serving the world through valour and skill at arms—”

“And now you doubt it?” Cinder asked.

“Should I not?” responded Pyrrha. “I… I have made my peace with my limitations, I am aware that there are things I cannot do, the fact that I cannot smite down Salem with my spear no longer stabs at me because I could defeat you. Or thought I could.”

“You did defeat me.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I didn’t. If you had—”

“Yes, if I had used the Fall Maiden’s power against you, then I would have defeated you, but what of that?” Cinder demanded. “The youngest and most adorable of your fans in Mistral could have defeated you, if they were the Fall Maiden and were motivated to fight you.”

“And yet, you defeated and killed the previous Fall Maiden to claim that power,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Cinder was quiet for a moment. She glanced away from Pyrrha. “I … I took her by surprise and killed her by ambush. She never saw me coming and had no chance to employ her power against me.” She paused for a moment. “If she had … I had her outnumbered four to one, and nevertheless, I would have been apprehensive of facing her in open battle.”

“An ambush,” Pyrrha repeated. “That does not seem like the action of a Mistralian warrior.”

“Did not your namesake lie in ambush for Cressida and cut her down as she was returning home from the temple?”

“My namesake was prodigiously skilled and valiant, but I do not take her every action as a guide to live my life,” Pyrrha pointed out. “I … practice to be kinder than she would have been.”

“All heroic virtues are found bound up in The Mistraliad.”

“That does not mean that every action taken by those heroes in their lives is virtuous,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Cinder wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “But … anyway, it was not my intent to mock or belittle you by holding back my magic. I meant to do you honour.”

“'Honour'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“I have kept my … kept these powers to myself for reasons of secrecy,” Cinder said, “but it was not secrecy that drove me to conceal them from you; rather … I wanted to defeat you with swords and semblance, in a contest of swords and semblance. To have used magic would have proved as little as cutting your throat while you slept during the hunt for the Karkadann. Anyone could have done that, anyone could wield magic against you, but only the true Evenstar of Mistral could face the false one in a contest of arms and by those arms and arms alone emerge victorious.”

She scowled. “Such was my thought, at any rate. Except … we have fought twice, you and I; once, I fled the battle, but I could tell myself that you had assistance. The second time, you had no assistance and won the more decisive victory, breaking my aura; that is … that is something to be proud of. You beat me. I will not have you dismiss the accomplishment of that, say that it does not count; you defeated me! I demand that you acknowledge that and take some pride in the doing of it, for my pride will not suffer my defeat to be taken lightly.” She shook her head. “I am not defeated lightly.”

Pyrrha hesitated. “You … you demand?”

“Yes, yes, I demand,” Cinder declared. “I demand that you demonstrate the appropriate response to what you have done. I … I am a skilled warrior, am I not? You said it yourself, under Mountain Glenn.”

Pyrrha nodded. “You could have rivalled me in the arena, if things had been different.”

“I am your rival, as you are mine,” Cinder said, taking a step forward, so that a very short distance separated the two of them. “Training has blended with your native gifts to make you … somewhat my superior, but I am not yet willing to concede that in different circumstances, with better fortune, I may not outmatch you yet. But I respect you, and I would have you respect yourself.” She paused. “I thought you fought me for your reputation, but it was not so, was it?”

“Not entirely,” Pyrrha conceded. “I wanted to prove to myself that I could fight you.”

“You can fight me.”

“Not—”

“The magic is irrelevant!” Cinder cried. “The magic is … in all of Salem’s service, I am the only one possessed of magic, and in all of Salem’s service, I am the most skilled in arms. There is another champion more muscular than I, there is another who is wilder than I, but I am swifter than he who is stronger than me, and I am more cunning than he who is more savage than me. And you would be a match for either of them.

“Salem … Salem thinks that I am nothing more than a vessel for the powers of a Maiden, and as that vessel, I am to be protected, but I am more than that, and you … we have skill enough to carve a place out in this story. We are not fated to irrelevance; we … I imagine Sunset has tried to persuade you of this already, no?”

“Something like it,” Pyrrha conceded.

“But you fear that your friend speaks only to console you, to say what will not be true but which might put you at your ease,” Cinder said. “But hear it from your foe: I would yet be Cinder Fall, though all the magic of the Fall Maiden be stripped away from me, and you are Pyrrha Nikos yet, though you have magic none. There is a place for us that we may cut out with strength and swords, a place upon this battlefield.

“I showed you respect by meeting you only with that force which is my own, but you disrespect me by acting now as if my own strength was insignificant, as though triumphing over me was no great thing because I did not put forth Maiden’s power.”

“That was not my intent,” Pyrrha murmured. “And I … strange as it may seem, I apologise if I have given you offence. You conducted yourself with all due honour during the proceedings of our duel, I must concede. Although I might accuse you of being as self-interested in seeking to lift my spirits as Sunset ever was, moreso, for Sunset never felt that she might be diminished if I diminished myself.”

Cinder laughed lightly. “Well, I must admit you have me there.” She paused a moment. “May I ask you something?”

“If you wish.”

“Did you not want to live?” Cinder asked. “Are you not glad to be alive, you who have … well, you certainly seem to feel like you have something to live for, or does that blond scarecrow yonder who watches us not bring you so much joy as your actions would suggest?”

“'Scare—' you mean Jaune?” Pyrrha asked. “Jaune is not a … yes, he brings me joy, and yes, I am glad to be alive, very glad, but there are some things more important than life, and there are prices at which I would not purchase life. I would not buy it at the price of you thinking me unworthy of the trouble to kill me.”

“That was not the case,” Cinder said, shaking her head. “That was emphatically not the case. You were worth my effort, which was why I made an effort, instead of relying upon easy gifts.” Her brow furrowed. “Did you … do you believe that you are the weaker party in this struggle? Collectively, I mean, not you alone.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, I do. Does that surprise you?”

“Yes,” Cinder said, “since you are obviously the stronger party.”

“'Stronger'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“There are four of you here and only one of me,” Cinder declared. “Does that not seem like you are stronger?”

“You are led by an immortal witch whose malice stretches back through history and who commands the creatures of grimm.”

“The creatures of grimm are red in tooth and claw,” Cinder said, “but, at the same time, of little worth compared with a huntsman, or why do they die in such numbers? You, on the other hand, are arrayed alongside all the forces of four kingdoms and the might of Atlas, with huntsmen some of whom are … almost equal in skill to your good self. I had understood that, once I had killed you, all the gallants of the world — and Mistral especially — would rise up, their swords leaping from their scabbards, to tear me down. They may yet, if fortune favours me at our next … hostile encounter.”

“And yet you seek it anyway,” Pyrrha said dryly. “Do you not want to live?”

Cinder didn’t answer that. “And yet you think yourself weaker, on the weaker side?”

“Our enemy, our ultimate foe, cannot be destroyed,” Pyrrha reminded her. “We … have no ultimate victory but only the prevention of defeat. By killing you, I might have prevented Salem’s plans from coming to fruition, but it would have been only a temporary victory, and it would not have freed us from the threat of her malice.”

“And yet you fight this hopeless battle regardless?”

“'Hopeless'?” Pyrrha said. “No, not hopeless, but at the same time … we are on the defensive, and the odds are against us.”

“And yet you fight, nonetheless?”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together for a moment. “Hopeless or difficult, nonetheless, it is a battle that must be fought, and I would rather perish in that battle than be shamed to shrink away from it.” Now it was her turn to pause. “Why do you fight, if you perceive that your battle is the hopeless one?”

“Because…” Cinder trailed off. “Do you truly fight for your face in the opinion of the world? You will forgive me, but I do not believe it so.”

“I fight because there is more virtue in a hopeless battle than in apathy in the face of the destruction of all things,” Pyrrha said. “I fight because my blood commands that I should fight and because … because I hope yet that I have some skill that may be of use in the fight. I fight because … because my life if I forsook the fight would be a feeble, pathetic, forsaken, and wretched thing, and not even Jaune could make it worth living.”

Cinder stared at her for a moment. “The emotions of those who are thought beautiful are often filled with sorrow,” she murmured.

“At times, perhaps,” Pyrrha murmured. “You did not answer my question.”

“No,” Cinder said. “No, I did not.”

Pyrrha took that to mean that their conservation was at an end, and so … it was a strange thing perhaps, a strange sight to be sure, but she bowed her head, and a little part of her back, so that her ponytail fell across her back and some strands of hair tickled her skin.

Cinder smiled with one corner of her mouth and bowed in turn, one fist planted over her heart.

Pyrrha turned away and returned to where Jaune was waiting, having watched everything from where he leaned against the side of their craft.

“Did … did that help?”

Pyrrha opened her mouth, but then no words emerged. She closed her mouth again and considered her feelings some more. “I … yes,” she said. “Yes, it … at the least, I know that she did not mean to insult me by her action.”

“And that … makes it better?” asked Jaune.

“It … not wholly,” Pyrrha confessed. “But in part. Although…”

“Although … what?”

“I wish she had said, or perhaps I should have asked,” Pyrrha said, “whether her consideration would extend to our next violent encounter.”

It was a few days later, after the ship that bore them on, heedless of their wishes, had passed out of the rivers and onto the open sea, bearing them until Vale and its shore were quite out of sight and they were left with not a single clue as to where they might be, it was then when Ruby sought Pyrrha out.

It was night time, the broken moon shining down upon them, and now Pyrrha was the one who stood at the prow, although she hoped that she stood there a little less self-consciously than Cinder had done earlier. She stood on watch, looking for any sign of land, any chink of light that might emerge from out of the night’s darkness or for the sign of any grimm who might emerge out of the sea to trouble them.

Jaune and Sunset were asleep, and Cinder too no doubt, though Pyrrha had not seen her go to bed.

“There is a hunger in me that will not let me rest.”

But what is it that you hunger for, Cinder? Do you even know yourself?

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha looked around to see Ruby standing behind her, clutching her red cape around her in the night air.

“Ruby?” Pyrrha murmured. “You should be sleeping, with Jaune and Sunset.”

“I need to talk to you,” Ruby said. “Alone.”

“'Alone'?” Pyrrha repeated. “Why alone? What is it that you must say to me that no one else can hear?”

Ruby did not reply. She licked her lips, but she did not take her eyes off Pyrrha. At last, after some moments had passed, Ruby said, “It’s about Cinder.”

“I … I see,” Pyrrha said softly. “Except … I don’t. What is it about Cinder?”

Ruby’s chest rose and fell with her breathing. “She has to die; you know that, right? She has to die, and … and the Maiden powers need to pass to…”

“To one of us?” Pyrrha asked quietly, her voice trembling a little, as though she were speaking thoughts that ought not be given voice. To speak of it, not so much of Cinder’s death but of … ambition. To kill an enemy was one thing; to kill a foe to obtain great power was something else altogether.

Ruby nodded. She kept her voice down too, although less perhaps out of a sense of the profane and more out of a desire not to wake Sunset or Jaune. “One of us,” she agreed. “You … or me. You would be … you’d use them well, but I’d take them if I had to. I couldn’t be a worse choice than Cinder, right?”

“Do you … do you want them?” asked Pyrrha.

“Would it be wrong, if I did?” Ruby responded. “I want to be able to help people, to protect them from danger, protect the world; isn’t that what you want too?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “But … to desire power…”

“People who say it's wrong to want power are the people who have it anyway,” Ruby pointed out. “What’s wrong with having power, so long as it’s used for good?”

“Nothing, of course—”

“And if you don’t have power, then what’s wrong with wanting power to do good?”

“Does it not depend on what you will do to obtain that power?” asked Pyrrha. “Killing someone?”

“Killing someone who has killed others,” Ruby pointed out. “Who will kill more, if she isn’t stopped. Why should we hesitate to do to her what she would do to us?”

“Because I’m not so sure she would,” Pyrrha murmured. “Ruby … we have made a truce with Cinder, and you are suggesting that we should break that truce and … and murder her.”

“We’re right,” Ruby declared. “We’re on the right side, Cinder is wrong, and she’s evil; there’s nothing that we could do to her that would make us worse than her or make her better than evil. Lie, betray, kill, just like I said; it’s all for the greater good; how can our right be doubted?”

More easily than you might think, I’m afraid, Pyrrha thought. “Sunset will never agree to this.”

“Sunset…” Ruby frowned, and this time, she did not look at Pyrrha, but glanced away, if only for a moment. “Sunset’s weak. I don’t like to say it, but it’s true.”

“Sunset has a good heart,” Pyrrha said.

“But not a heart to do what has to be done,” Ruby said. “I know that she wants what’s best, but she can’t make the difficult choices. She can’t even face up to them. Sometimes, you have to draw a line. Sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes.”

“I … understand,” Pyrrha murmured. She did not say that she agreed, only that she understood. “And … what would you propose? In the circumstances, we can hardly expect Cinder not to call upon her full strength.”

“We’d have to wait until she was weakened,” Ruby said. “Worn out by a fight; they’ve been trying so far, and they’ll probably get worse—”

“So we should deprive ourselves of an ally?”

“So we should take the opportunity,” Ruby replied. “Wait until she’s tired, then… take her out. So long as we move fast, then Sunset won’t even realise what we’re doing until it’s too late to stop us.”

“Just like that,” Pyrrha whispered.

“I … I don’t know if it will … maybe it’ll be something that we’ll have to live with, but I’m sure we can live with it. I know I can live with it.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. What Ruby was offering was … tempting. To achieve great power, greater than human power, not to use constantly, of course — that would give away to Salem that she had it, or that Ruby had it — but … at utmost need, with lives or the fate of kingdoms at stake, when secrecy was less important than survival, then to possess such abilities, who would not desire it?

I could have filled the Breach with fire and turned all the grimm within the tunnel to ashes, and no need for General Ironwood or his fleet.

And, just as she or Ruby would be strengthened, so too would Salem be correspondingly weakened. Cinder dead and the powers of the Maiden lost.

“I am swifter than he who is stronger than me, and I am more cunning than he who is more savage than me.”

He in both cases, two men, no women, no mention of other Maidens, and while Professor Ozpin might wish to conceal from us that he had lost one Maiden to Salem, if all their powers had fallen into her clutches, I have no doubt that he would confess it, the odds being that much greater against us.

Assuming, then, that Cinder is Salem’s only Maiden, that Spring, Summer, and Winter are secure under the protection of Professor Ozpin and his allies, then what a setback it will be to her to lose it.

Such a setback that I marvel Cinder was allowed to undertake this task. What folly to put her in such danger.

Professor Ozpin might say the same about Ruby or myself if we took the power from her.

“It occurs to me,” Pyrrha murmured. “That if … if we do this, then Professor Ozpin might well decide that we are too valuable to be risked in battle, and the magic of the Maiden with us; are you prepared to leave Beacon, to spend the rest of your life in hiding, secreted away?”

“Do you … do you think he would?”

“I think it is a possibility, at least.”

Ruby frowned. She licked her lips, her tongue darting out of her mouth. “I … it’s not what I want,” she admitted. “It’s not what I want at all, and I guess it isn’t what you want either.”

“No,” she said quietly.

“But, if it was for the greater good then I’d do it,” Ruby said. “I mean, keeping dangerous power out of the wrong hands, that’s a way of helping people, right? It’s almost like being someone’s bodyguard.”

“I suppose,” Pyrrha conceded. “That is a very selfless way of looking at it.”

She bowed her head.

She found that she could not so easily accept the possibility as Ruby had. She could not so easily accept the idea of going into hiding, let alone embrace the idea as an extension of the duties of a huntress.

It was not the destiny that she had had in mind, to say the least.

And yet…

Tempting, nonetheless; but at what cost?

“You … you must do what you think is best,” she said, “but I … I will have no part in it.”

“Why not?”

“Because Cinder and I have drawn swords together,” Pyrrha said. “She has turned her back on me, trusting me not to stab her in it but to protect it. That may not mean anything to you, but I’m afraid it means something to me.”

“Even if it gets you killed?” demanded Ruby.

“Even if … at least I will not have given anyone cause to say that I deserved it.”

Cinder was not asleep.

Cinder did not sleep; the grimm influence did not allow her the luxury of sleep any more than it allowed her the luxury of tasting food, of enjoying a well-cooked meal.

Not that she was particularly anxious for the whole team to know that, and so kept her condition to herself, even as, unable to settle in the cabin with Jaune and Sunset, she prowled around the vessel, keeping out of sight as she did so.

She was currently skulking about behind the cabin where, unseen by Pyrrha or by Ruby, she had heard everything.

I should gut that little rose before she can do the same to me.

But that would hardly go down well with the others, would it? It would be quite as bad as killing Pyrrha, except that Pyrrha would be alive to hate me too.

And nobody would care that I had killed Ruby Rose; it would win me no infamy. Who is Ruby Rose anyway?

No, let her live. It may be that Pyrrha’s refusal will pour cold water on her designs, and if not…

If not, then I can handle her, and that oversized gardening implement besides.

I am becoming very foolish. In past times, I would not have hesitated.

In past times, I didn’t care who thought what of me, but now…

Now, I would repay Sunset’s generous offer and vindicate Pyrrha’s faith.

After all, I’m not the only one who turned my back.

I wonder how tempting it was for you, Pyrrha, to kill me and take my power for yourself?

How hard was it for the Mistralian honour to withstand such promise?

However hard or not it was, I am … grateful.

Though we are rivals, I do not wish us to be enemies again just yet.

“Weapon check,” Sunset said. “What have we got? Or should I say 'what have we got left?'”

The four members of Team SAPR were sitting on the deck of the Merlot ship, under the shadow of the unmanned conning tower. The entire ship was completely unmanned and automated — as they had proved by searching it from top to bottom when they got on board — and was being guided to its destination by algorithms that none of them had the computer skills to crack.

As a result, they were not certain exactly where they were going. All they knew was that the ship had sailed through the rivers that ran through Vale, avoiding any major waterways or even any significant bridges as it went, until it had put out into the Shallow Sea. Whether it was headed to somewhere on Patch, to another island further out, or even all the way to Solitas, they could not say.

And they had lost contact with Professor Ozpin again. They got nothing but static on their scrolls now.

Still, with the sea stretching out boundless all around them as far as the eye could see and their ship showing no sign of stopping any time soon, all that they could do now was check their weapons and see how much ammunition they had left for the fight to come.

Pyrrha switched Miló into rifle mode so that she could eject the magazine and set it down next to the other two magazines that she had produced from her pouch. “My last three,” she said.

“I’ve got four!” Ruby said, as though it was a competition.

“What about the one already in Crescent Rose?” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Oh, I’ve got five!”

“I’m out of ice dust,” Jaune admitted. He dug around in his pockets. “But I do have … two vials of lightning dust, one vial of wind dust, and one of fire dust.”

“That makes two of us,” Sunset said, taking the red vial out of her pocket and setting it down on the deck in the middle of the circle, “which is just enough to light up my jacket one more time. But I’ve also got two lightning dust vials, and I haven’t actually used up what’s already in the bracers yet, so Jaune, take them if you want them.”

“Thanks,” Jaune said, reaching out to snatch up the vials that Sunset had laid out for him. “Let me know if you need them back. If I don’t use them first.”

“Your need will probably be greater than mine,” Sunset said.

“What about Soteria?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset shrugged. “My jacket needs it more. I can’t just magic up more dust when I’m running short. I’ve also got thirty rounds left, mostly armour piercing, a couple of fire dust rounds, a few lightning dust rounds.” She sighed and folded her arms. “So it looks like it’s going to be close quarters when we reach wherever it is we’re going.”

“Isn’t it always close quarters in the end?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yeah, but we’re great at close quarters, so it isn’t really a problem right?” Ruby said.

“Speak for yourselves; I like being able to shoot first,” Sunset said.

“Speak for yourself; I’m still struggling to aim with a sword,” Jaune said. “Slashing at stuff feels way more natural.”

Pyrrha chuckled, and for a moment, soft smiles spread out across the four of them.

“We’ve got our semblances and Sunset’s magic,” Ruby said, “and we’ve got each other, so even if we do run out of bullets, we’ll be fine.”

Sunset grinned. “Yeah, sure we will.”

“It may interest you to know,” Cinder called out from her place upon the bow, “that there is land ahead.”

They all leapt up, gathering up their dust and ammunition and reloading their weapons where they had emptied them, and as they fumbled to put magazines back into rifles and rounds back into chambers, they all made their way up towards the prow of the boat, standing more or less close to Cinder, depending on their appetite for proximity, as they all peered out in the direction in which she gestured with one imperious hand.

It was land, or at least, it looked like land. It looked like an island, a rough and rocky island surrounded by cliffs on all sides rising up just beyond what looked like barren, sandy beach. What lay on top of the cliffs, or what they might conceal behind them, could not at this distance be seen.

But there was no doubt that the boat was heading straight for it.

“It seems we have our destination,” Pyrrha said. “With perhaps a little more fortune than has attended us so far, we may be about to reach the final stage of our journey and a resolution to all these mysteries.”

“I hope so,” Jaune said. “This treasure hunt lost its allure a little while ago.”

Sunset stared at the island dead ahead of them, trying to judge the speed of the ship by how quickly the island grew in size to meet them and from that to further judge how much longer they had until they got there.

“I don’t think we have much time,” she said. “We should get ready.”

And they did, those of them who were not ready already. The person who needed to get ready the most was Sunset herself, who had to re-dust her jacket in case she needed it. Jaune only had to choose what kind of dust he wanted to load into the pommel of his sword — he chose lightning, being out of ice — and Ruby and Pyrrha were permanently primed and ready.

Cinder was the same, or at least she gave the appearance of being the same. Since she didn’t carry a gun, she didn’t have to worry about ammunition, nor did she ever appear to run out of glass, even though she probably should have, at least after her duel with Pyrrha.

Sunset hadn’t invited her to join the weapon check — she’d had a feeling that not all of the members of Team SAPR would have welcomed her presence — but as the boat sailed on without any sign of slowing down or turning from its chosen course towards the isle, she wondered just how prepared for this Cinder actually was.

“How are you fixed?” she asked, standing up and throwing on her dust re-infused — the best that she could manage in the time constraints anyway — jacket as the island grew nearer and nearer to them.

“Hmm?”

“Dust,” Sunset clarified.

Cinder continued to look out across the water at their destination. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “So what do you think is waiting for us out there?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. She was silent a moment, the sea air wafting through her hair and making the hem of her jacket ripple back and forth. “A vengeful magician, unjustly forced into exile, living alone with his innocent daughter, a true ingénue who has never beheld any man not her own father in her life.” She smirked. “She’ll probably fall in love with Jaune, which will make things awkward.”

Cinder chuckled. “A story from your home?”

“A famous one,” Sunset said. “The first male the daughter sets eyes upon is actually the son of the wizard’s enemy, shipwrecked on the isle.”

“So it is a story of revenge?”

Sunset shook her head. “A story of forgiveness and reconciliation.”

“I don’t think we’re likely to find much of either on this island.”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “Probably not. What we will find though … answers, hopefully; less hopefully, I’m afraid that we’ll find all kinds of twisted science experiments down there. We still don’t know what they did with the faunus.”

“Do you know what I think we will find there?” Cinder asked softly.

“No.”

“An arrogant man who thinks he can play god,” Cinder said, “and it falls to the angels of the true gods to remind him that it is not so.”

“'Angels'?”

“Fallen in my case, perhaps,” Cinder said, “but an angel nevertheless.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled coquettishly at Sunset.

It was not long afterwards that the boat pulled in to what was a far more miserable excuse for a dockyard than Sunset had only been expecting. The rest of the island was as it had appeared: a rough, sandy, and incredibly narrow beach bordering on high, practically sheer cliffs that could not have been climbed by any of them, nor leapt even with Jaune’s semblance strengthening their legs.

The dock into which their ship slid silently was barely worthy of the name: there was just a single crane for the unloading of the vessel, and that … that was about it. There wasn’t even a proper jetty, although Sunset supposed that such things could be regarded as unnecessary if you were never intending to carry passengers. Still, the lack of any sort of facilities didn’t bode well for the hope that they would find all the answers that they were looking for here. Just as likely, this was just another way-station, another stop on their journey that would lead them to nowhere but another location on what Jaune had accurately termed a treasure hunt.

They leapt down off the boat — with aura and its enhancements to their strength, they didn’t need for there to be any way to disembark passengers — and landed in the sand as the crane began to descend upon one of the shipping containers that had been taken on in the Forever Fall. A crude wall of wooden planks and corrugated iron that looked as though it had been assembled hastily and out of whatever leftover materials happened to be available to hand separated the dock from the rest of the beach, with only a small doorway joining the two.

There was a clanking, stomping sound for a moment before that doorway was blocked by an android. A red android, one of the crimson giants that Blake and Rainbow Dash had encountered underneath Atlas and one of the same type that SAPR had found destroyed and scattered in the Emerald Forest. It stopped, and as it stared at them for a moment, Sunset almost had the impression that it was surprised to see them.

It made an unintelligible sound in no language that Sunset recognised, and then stepped out of sight behind the barrier.

“Huh,” Jaune said. “That was—”

The barrier was smashed down as a host of robots battered holes in the wood and the iron and stomped through the breaches they had made. On the right flank, closer to the water’s edge, were the blood red robots with the stylised M in white upon their chests, with their eyes of green and their polearms tinted in the same colour. Upon the left, further towards the cliff, were the bulkier white robots with the guns with which Ruby had been so enamoured when she had taken one in the forest.

They mean to drive us onto the spears of the first group with the fire of the second.

Unfortunately for them, we’re actually quite well-placed for fighting robots.

“Pyrrha, Jaune,” Sunset said. “You take the close-quarter ones on the right. Ruby, you and me are going to take the shooting ones on the left. Cinder?”

“Yes?” Cinder asked.

Sunset grinned. “Watch as it’s our turn to show off. Ruby, hold for my signal.” She raised her hands and conjured a wide shield of magic that stretched from her out to cover her team, and Cinder, and even separate the red robots from the white on either side of her barrier. “Pyrrha, Jaune, go!”

As her swift stride carried her into battle, Pyrrha wanted very much to simply use her semblance to rip all of these androids apart in a matter of moments.

It might not work. There were a great many robots present on this beach, after all, very many indeed, and not having encountered them before, she was not certain how much power it would require to destroy them all.

But she felt … in the presence of Cinder, after the power that Cinder had displayed in the tunnel, she felt the need to … show off a little bit.

Not show off, perhaps, or at least, she hoped that it was not simply a matter of showing off, although perhaps it was. Cinder knew her semblance, after all, or should have been able to guess at it even as Arslan had, and now that Cinder had revealed the extent of her power, Pyrrha felt the need to show that, though she might not be a Maiden, her semblance was, in itself, capable of tremendous power.

Showing off, perhaps, or warning Cinder not to take her lightly, an invitation perhaps to go all out next time, as Pyrrha felt certain there would be a next time.

Or just a statement: Yes, you can destroy a lot of grimm, but look how these robots fall before me.

Of course, it would be a fine thing to try something like that only for it not to work, for the number of androids arrayed against her to defeat her semblance; it would also be a fine thing for her to use up all her aura and require an unusually large boost from Jaune.

No, it was not worth it, not merely for some petty posturing and preening towards Cinder.

No, she would win this fight — she would help her team win this fight — the way that she had won all her battles. Against an enemy that was quite literally made of metal, it should be quite sufficient.

All these thoughts passed through Pyrrha’s head in the mere moments before she reached her android enemies and joined battle with them.

The first android swung its polearm in her direction, but Pyrrha simultaneously leaned back, her knees bending even as she adjusted the swing of the spear with her polarity so that it passed harmlessly over her head. And as the glowing blade passed before her eyes, Pyrrha lashed outward with her foot, hammering the robot in the knee with enough force to shatter its joint. It tottered upon its remaining leg even as Pyrrha leapt upwards and, with a swing of her spear, sliced off its head.

Two more androids closed on her from opposite sides. They were so slow. They stomped around as though they were moving through treacle rather than air. She threw her shield at the one that was trying with almost painful sloth to approach her from behind, shattering its visage as she struck it on the forehead. With her free hand, Pyrrha grabbed the glaive of the android that she had just decapitated and threw it at the red robot approaching her from the front, aiming for the vulnerable join of its legs to its torso. Took one of its legs off and had the satisfaction of watching the android topple over onto its side. She rounded on the android behind and finished the damage to its head that her shield had begun. The second android was now trying to crawl its way over to her, but it was even slower as it tried to drag itself across the ground, and Pyrrha despatched it easily.

She charged another android. It slashed at her with surprising speed — so they could move fast when they wished to — but Pyrrha’s semblance was able to turn them all safely away from her without any damage to her aura. She jumped, landing on top of the robot's spear as she returned its slashes with a few of her own, and her strikes did not miss.

More of the androids tried to surround her, but she was able to turn their strokes aside as she had always turned the strokes of her enemies aside in the arena and, in so doing, create openings for herself. This was familiar to her, in spite of the fact that the enemies were androids instead of fellow tournament fighters, and though it wasn’t pushing her in any new directions … well, quite honestly, after some of the novelty that had entered her life recently, there was something to be said for an experience that was a little more familiar, like an old glove. She knew how to do this, and she knew that she could do it well.

And do it she did, as the androids fell before her.

Jaune concentrated. He could do this. There was no reason why he couldn’t do this, no reason at all.

He had a lot of aura, and what was the good of that if — well, okay, part of the good of that was his semblance and the way that he could help his teammates with it — but also, it ought to be good for concentrating it in certain places without leaving himself vulnerable.

After all, Rainbow Dash did that, and Jaune was pretty sure that he had more aura to go around than she did.

He wasn’t even going to burn lots of it at once on flashy punches; he just wanted to make his swings stronger.

Strong enough to cut right through a robot, maybe.

And so, as the robots advanced, Jaune concentrated, concentrated upon concentration of his aura, moving it so that it wasn’t spread evenly across his whole body, but focussed a bit more around his shield and his left arm, and even more so on his right arm and where his aura covered his sword.

He could feel both getting stronger. He could feel his legs weakening a little bit as the aura moved away from them, but not too much; there was still aura there, and it wasn’t as though he was tired already.

But his arms: he could feel the power in his arms increasing; he felt like he could punch through a mountain if he wanted to, shattering it into little pebbles. He felt as though he could withstand the tides with his shield.

It’s working. It’s working!

And not before time too, as the first of the red androids was already upon him. It drew back its bladed spear thingy and slashed at him.

Jaune parried with his sword, the android’s spear clashed with his blade, and the edge, enhanced by a greater than usual amount of aura, sliced clean through the mere metal as the bulk of the spear-blade dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Even the robot seemed a little confused by what had just happened.

Jaune yelled. He yelled as he slashed down at the robot’s outstretched arm, cutting through it and slicing it off just below the elbow. He yelled as he hacked at the robot itself, slicing through the armour of its chest until it collapsed into pieces, falling apart along the lines where he and his sword had cloven through it.

It worked! It actually worked!

And that was about the easiest kill he’d ever gotten.

“Yes!” Jaune let out a triumphant shout as if he’d just won the whole battle single-handedly, before the tramp-tramp of robotic feet reminded him that there were more enemies yet to be dealt with.

Well, let them come. His sword would cut through them all just like it cut through that first one.

“Come on!” he challenged. “Who’s next?”

They came at him, without much order or coordination that he could make out. He cut their spears in half, he cut off their arms, he cut off their legs and then their heads, he simply sliced through their bodies at the waist-line, he cut them into pieces one and all. He was killing this. He was killing them. He was … he was good at this! He’d been getting better at fighting the grimm too, but he was really good at this. As the robots fell before his blade, this was the first time he really felt like the hero he’d always—

A flurry of swift blows from behind struck his back and cut his knees out from under him, and the world spun around Jaune even as he felt more blows clattering off his armour and slicing into his aura at the same time. He hit the sand heavily, shoulder first. He heard some robotic buzzing as he looked up to see the android that had gotten behind him.

Akoúo̱ flew into his field of vision to knock the android back a step before Pyrrha leapt over him in a flying kick that knocked the robot still further back even as she sliced off its head with Miló.

She leapt back, turning to him and offering him her hand, a gleam in her eyes as her smile made her whole face light up in such a way that … well, Jaune could almost forget that there was a battle raging around them.

“You were doing wonderfully well,” she said, as she helped him to his feet. “But don’t get cocky.”

“I won’t,” Jaune said. “I’ll remember.”

As the remaining robots — the red ones anyway — surrounded them, Jaune and Pyrrha turned so that they were back to back.

As the androids closed in around them, he wasn’t afraid. Together, they had this.

He was sure of it.

Sunset cringed a little as the bullets from the androids’ rotary cannons slammed into her magical shield, sending shockwaves rippling through her consciousness.

“Sunset—” Ruby began.

“Not yet,” Sunset said as she put forth her effort and her power alike to keep the shield stable, protecting not only herself and her partner but Jaune and Pyrrha and Cinder too.

The androids kept up their bombardment. They must have thought that this was some kind of semblance that would drop if they kept shooting at it.

They were half right, but the trick was to keep it up enough for them to grow impatient. Sunset grinned reflexively before she realised that these were robots and she wasn’t going to annoy them with a show like she would a human enemy. She looked away as the bullets spat from the guns and her shield shuddered under the impacts, and she started to get a headache. Jaune and Pyrrha were making short work of the crimson androids with the spears, and if they had any sort of tactical nous, then the white androids must be getting desperate to bring her shield down and support their allies.

Come on, Sunset thought. You’ve got a load of nice, juicy grenades stuffed in there somewhere, so why don’t you—?

They fired their grenades. Two of the white androids did, anyway; the bombs erupted from the dark barrels of their enormous guns and bounced off the sand as they flew through the air straight for Sunset.

Who enveloped them both in the grip of her telekinesis, holding them there in a bright green glow, before — with a superfluous but very cool-looking flicking gesture — she flung them straight back at the robots who had fired them.

Both grenades exploded in the midst of the cluster of white androids, enveloping them in the explosive blast.

Sunset dropped the shield. “Ruby, go!”

Ruby was already speeding forward before Sunset had even finished the second word, racing towards the enemy in a burst of rosepetals.

Ruby raced towards the enemy in a burst of rosepetals, re-materialising in their midst just as the explosion from the grenades died down. Two androids were down, some of the rest were damaged; only the ones on the edge of the blast were completely untouched.

Damaged or not, none of them were fast enough to react to her sudden appearance in their midst as she twirled a still-unfolding Crescent Rose in a wide arc, slicing two androids in half. A third robot swung the barrel of its gun towards her, but Ruby jumped up onto that barrel, Crescent Rose switching back into carbine mode as she fired five or six shots into the android at point-blank range — she still had enough bullets that she could afford to fire those. Probably — into its head and chest to take it down.

With all these guns here, I’ll have one that I can disassemble to see how it all works as well as one to keep, Ruby thought as she unfurled her mighty scythe once again and buried the blade in an android’s chest. Unfortunately, it got stuck there, while the robot wasn’t quite dead.

Ruby leapt upwards, trailing rose petals as she ascended into the sky, flicking Crescent Rose and collapsing it at the same time so that her scythe blade retracted — slicing through more metal and circuits as it went — even as the robot itself was flung off and against the cliff.

She unfolded her weapon again — the mechanism was certainly getting a workout right now — as she landed on the ground, kicking up sand as she charged forward, dragging her scythe behind her like a giant scoop that swept up the half-dozen robots in her path — the last white androids remaining — and threw them all up into the air like ninepins hit by a bowling ball.

Bursts of bright green energy from Sunset’s fingertips nailed all six of them as they hung suspended in the air, and they were dead — or whatever the term was for robots — before they hit the ground.

Sunset dusted off her hands. That was even quicker than I thought it would be. We really are good at this. We’re like robot slayers.

She glanced at Cinder, who was very studiedly acting as though she wasn’t impressed. It didn’t matter. Sunset knew that she was secretly impressed, even if she was trying not to show it.

Sunset said, “As awesomely as that was done — and good job, everybody — we’ve certainly made our presence known to our enemy after all that.”

She pulled out her scroll. She got nothing but static. However, as she glanced upwards away from the wreck that Team SAPR had made of the Merlot androids, she could see a series of communications towers rising up from behind the cliffs, three of them in fact, at different points on the island.

“We need to make contact with Professor Ozpin again,” she said. “Perhaps if we get up to one of those towers, we can boost our signal.”

“Assuming that they are signal towers,” Cinder said. “Considering that this is an island in the middle of nowhere with little apparent interest in visitors, and considering that communications are being jammed, I’d say they’re more like jamming towers.”

“Hmm,” Sunset mused. “Maybe. We’ll find out when we actually get to them.”

“We should split up,” Cinder said. “Head for each tower at the same time.”

“I don’t know how much I like that idea,” Sunset said.

“I think it could work,” Pyrrha said. “We should split up by pairs: Jaune and I, Sunset and Ruby—”

“And Cinder by herself?” Sunset asked. “That—”

“Would suit me just fine,” Cinder said.

Sunset frowned. “Are you sure?”

Cinder chuckled. “I don’t need you to hold my hand, Sunset. I’m a big girl; I can get this done by myself.”

Sunset hesitated. “It … would be quicker, I suppose. All right, if you think you can manage it, then we’ll split up, but aim to reunite as quickly as possible; we’re stronger together, and I want us to be together again very, very soon.”

They couldn’t split up right away in any case, as there was only one nearby way off the beach and into the interior of the island: an archway inviting them through the sandstone cliffs and up a narrow path that wound upwards and around a rocky hill until they came to what looked like nothing so much as an arena dug into the earth. It was a rough circle, formed on three sides by the rock faces and on the fourth by a substantial metal wall with a gate set in it. The wall was less a barrier and more like the rampart of a fortress, with a parapet at the top for defenders to stand, and in fact, as SAPR and Cinder crouched behind the rocks for cover, they could see the distinctive white androids with their enormous guns standing on said parapet looking down.

The gate was, at present, open, and red androids who had exchanged their spears for metal staves that sparked with electricity were prodding a large mutated beowolf, easily the size of your average ursa, into the arena.

A dozen ordinary beowolves, led by a battle-scarred alpha, were already there.

Cinder tensed, as if she could anticipate what was coming as the gate slammed shut.

The two sides eyeballed one another for a moment, the green beowolf and the white pack, low growls rising out of their throats.

It was practically axiomatic that grimm would only intentionally hunt humans but that they would fight animals in disputes over territory.

Sunset didn’t know whether this counted as territory or not, but after a moment of staring, the pack of beowolves surged forward into the attack, kicking up dust as they descended upon the larger, mutated beowolf from all sides.

And the single green beowolf withstood them all. Though they bit at his legs and leapt onto his back, scrabbling for purchase amongst the giant spines, though they could make the larger creature howl with pain, not all of that black tide could seem to impair the creature’s ability to fight back. Enormous paws lashed out in both directions, sending beowolves flying to slam against the stone walls that made up the natural arena; one swiping paw even took a beowolf’s head clean off when it had the misfortune to stand up at the wrong time. The mutated beowolf ripped one of his ordinary opponents off his back and bit it in half. It slammed its clawed paws onto the ground, and a line of jagged green spikes erupted from out of the surface of the earth to impale the alpha beowolf.

In a matter of mere moments, the mutated beowolf had slaughtered every beowolf that had confronted him and pounded his paws upon his chest in celebration as he roared his triumph to the skies.

Cinder’s face was hard as flint. “Sunset, our road to those jamming towers leads through here, correct?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. All the towers were in various places on the other side of that gate.

A glass bow formed in Cinder’s hands. “Then I see no reason to delay,” she said as she stood up and loosed an arrow at the mutated beowolf, striking it in the eye. The beowolf’s loud triumphant roar turned into a howl of pain that was no less loud for having exchanged triumph for agony.

“Get through the gate and be on your way,” Cinder said. “I can deal with this mongrel myself. In fact, I’d prefer it that way.”

Without another word, she leapt down into the arena, loosing another glass shaft that, this time, struck the beowolf in the neck. Green ichor began to leak from the creature’s wound as it turned its head, trying to find her with the one eye that she had left it.

The androids had much less trouble noticing her and began to turn their guns towards her.

“Sorry about this, Ruby,” Sunset said.

“What are you—?” Ruby’s question was cut off as Sunset grabbed her and teleported the pair of them onto the battlements of the metal wall before the white androids could start to take their shots at Cinder.

It was to Ruby’s credit that, once they were actually up on the wall, she didn’t hesitate to charge the androids, Crescent Rose unfolding behind her as she slashed with it in a wide arc that sliced two androids clean in half already. Sunset thought she could handle the remainders, so she leapt down off the wall to where the red androids with the cattle prods were waiting.

Magical blasts shot from the palms of Sunset’s hands, punching holes in the chests of two of the androids before they could react. Since they couldn’t shoot at her, Sunset ignored the other two for a moment as she ran to the gate and slammed her fist into the big red button beside it.

Said button changed to green as the gate slid open, revealing that Cinder had changed her glass bow for a pair of scimitars as she engaged the mutated beowolf at close quarters. The altered grimm was bleeding from a dozen wounds but didn’t seem in any danger of dying at this stage.

Sunset fired another magical blast from out of her palms, which would also signal to Pyrrha and Jaune that the gate was open. She struck the beowolf on the thigh, making it turn its scarred face towards her and roar angrily.

Cinder soon got its attention back, slashing across its throat with both swords. “This is my fight, Sunset,” she snarled. “Leave me.”

“But—”

“Leave me!” Cinder snapped as she retreated back a step and led the beowolf on.

Sunset might have argued further — she felt like arguing further — but she heard the remaining red androids closing with her and turned just in time as one of them tried to wield its oversized cattle prod like a club, bringing it down upon her head.

Sunset took the blow upon her forearm, the metal clanging against the bracers that she wore.

The lightning dust infused bracers.

Sunset tapped the bracer with her free hand, and with her aura, she activated the dust that she’d infused into the metal. Lightning rippled up and down the bracers, and not only that, but it surged down the pole of the android’s weapon, the lightning snapping and crackling like a pack of angry hounds, and ripped across the crimson body of the android itself, which jerked and twitched before collapsing like an unused puppet.

Pyrrha’s shield flew over Sunset’s shoulder to strike the remaining red android before Pyrrha herself emerged into view to finish it off.

Ruby leapt down off the wall. “Nailed it,” she said as various pieces of white android followed her to the ground.

Jaune was the last to arrive. “What now?” he asked.

Sunset turned towards Cinder, still locked in combat with the beowolf.

“This is my fight.”

Then good luck with it.

“We get to the towers,” Sunset said before she turned away.

But she left the gate open for when Cinder was finished.

Pyrrha’s boots hammered upon the metal steps as she ran down them. The second jamming tower, the tower that it had fallen to her and Jaune to disable in the hope of getting their signal out, stood on the edge of a clear blue lake. In fact, the tower had been built just in the lake, rising up out of the water and casting a long shadow of beams and poles over it. The controls — or at least what Pyrrha, who would never claim to be any sort of engineer, took to be the control panel, considering that it was a glowing panel with buttons on it — lay at the bottom of the tower and underneath it.

“Pyrrha, Jaune, do you read me?” Sunset asked.

“You’re crackling a little, but we can make you out,” Jaune said. “Whoever lives here must be more concerned about jamming long-range communications.”

“Right,” Sunset said. “Ruby and I have reached the tower. I’m disabling the jammer now.”

A burst of static sounded in Pyrrha’s ear, followed by a voice that was — just about — identifiable as belonging to Professor Ozpin.

“Team…can you…resp…”

“Professor Ozpin?” Pyrrha asked. “Professor, can you hear us?”

“…don’t know…keep doing…trying…” His voice was lost amidst more static.

“Sounds like we’re onto something at least,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha, where are you?”

“Almost there,” Pyrrha said.

“Okay,” Sunset said. “We’ll see what taking two towers offline can do.”

Pyrrha didn’t reply as she reached the base of the tower, where the steps widened out into a large metal pad, with the control panel before her. Her steps slowed as she approached.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune said as he caught up with her. “Is something wrong?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, then pulled the ear piece out of her ear and switched it off so that Sunset and Ruby couldn’t hear her. “Jaune, would you…?”

Jaune frowned. “But—”

“Please,” Pyrrha said softly.

Jaune blinked, but he put his finger to his ear. “There, it’s off. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Pyrrha said, which she recognised was a silly thing to say almost as soon as she’d said it, because if nothing was going on, she wouldn’t have asked him to turn off his earpiece, would she? She walked to the control panel but did not deactivate the jammer. Not yet. She would, of course, but not yet. She turned back to face Jaune. “I wanted to talk to you without Sunset being able to overhear. Just for a moment.”

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “What is this?”

Pyrrha hesitated. She didn’t really want to tell him this, not least because Ruby hadn’t wanted to tell him this, and she was not at all sure that she had the right to tell it. But if Ruby was going to do this, then … Pyrrha valued his advice; perhaps he would see things differently to her.

Or perhaps he would see it the same way and be able to persuade Ruby not to go through with it.

“Ruby wishes to kill Cinder,” she said. “To rid us of an enemy and deny Salem a Maiden. I did not wish to be involved, but I think that she may attempt it anyway, if given the chance.”

“On her own?” Jaune asked. “That’s—”

“She means to wait until Cinder is weakened and distracted,” Pyrrha pointed out. She paused for a moment. “Do you think that I made the right decision?”

Jaune rubbed his jaw with one hand. “I … I think it would have been better if you’d been able to talk her out of it; Cinder is … Cinder’s too much for Ruby, and this thing about waiting until she’s weak, waiting until the right moment … what if Ruby misjudges it? She could be in serious trouble.”

“I would never stand by while Cinder hurt her, and neither would Sunset.”

“Does Sunset know about this?”

“No, of course not,” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Jaune said. “No, I see what you mean; we would have heard the yelling about it. All the same … I think that maybe we should tell her; that way she can stop Ruby from doing anything stupid.”

“I don’t want to cause any more trouble between them,” she said. “You know that Sunset’s attempt at respecting other people’s decisions would not stand before this.”

“I’d rather Ruby and Sunset have another fight than Ruby do something dangerous,” Jaune said. “Ruby could get herself in serious trouble doing this.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Do you think … should I have agreed to help her?”

It was Jaune’s turn to hesitate. “I’m not saying that I wouldn’t feel a little easier if Cinder weren’t around.”

“But she saved our lives,” Pyrrha said. “And then we would repay her by blowing her head off?”

Jaune winced. “You know, I remember when you used to be worried about how Sunset felt about Cinder.”

“This is not the same thing,” Pyrrha said, a touch of sternness entering her voice. “This is … a matter of obligation, and trust.”

“You’re right,” he said. “It would be … it would be rough to do that, after what we agreed and what she did; I’m just saying I’m a little surprised that … never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“I suppose it might seem that I’m defending her,” Pyrrha said. “That might be why I told Ruby that I wouldn’t stop her, even though I wouldn’t help her either. Or perhaps I just didn’t want her to think that I was putting barriers around her again.”

“Like I said, I kind of wish you had,” Jaune muttered. “Ruby could—”

“Get herself killed?” Pyrrha asked. “Has that not always been our reason, mine and Sunset, and has not Ruby always chafed at it?”

“I … guess,” Jaune sighed. “I suppose I ought to be on her side, but the idea of her going up against Cinder … did she tell you why she held back? Cinder, I mean?”

“She had a point to prove,” Pyrrha said. “Regarding our respective talents. Even after I had disproved that point, she would have preferred to die rather than use her magic against me.”

“Do you think that she’ll show Ruby the same indulgence?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s why I supported the idea of splitting up; Sunset may want us to reunite quickly, but at least in Cinder’s case, it would be better for both of them if they were to stay apart for as long as possible.”

Jaune nodded. “That sounds for the best.” He put his hands on her arms, two fingers resting upon the honour band on her left arm, the others pressed lightly against her skin. “Ruby put you in a difficult position; you weren’t left any really good choices.”

“Despite the circumstances, it gladdens me to hear you say it.”

“I’m always here to help,” Jaune said, a brief smile flitting across his face. “Sunset’s going to start wondering if we’re okay.”

She switched on her earpiece as she put it back in her ear. “Sunset, I’m disabling the jammer now. I think,” she said as she pushed what she hoped was the right button on the control panel.

“Students…almost…got you. Just…more,” Professor Ozpin said, before his voice cut out.

I suppose it’s all up to Cinder now.

For better or for worse.

Green ooze dripped off Cinder to form a trail leading back the way that she had come as she made her way up the rocky path and up the steps towards the final jamming tower.

She wondered idly if any of them had doubted that she would win the fight. And she hadn’t even had to use her Maiden powers to do it, although that would have undoubtedly ended the struggle much faster. But it would also have revealed said powers to their host, and she wasn’t quite ready to do that yet.

Cinder reached the control panel underneath the third and final tower and stood before it. There was an argument to be made for not turning it off. After all, she didn’t need to get in touch with Ozpin, did she? But she and Sunset were allies on this mission, and Sunset was counting on her.

And she would, at some point, need a way off this island, and that might be difficult to accomplish if she couldn’t get a signal out to Emerald.

I suppose, by this point, Tempest Shadow has begun to wonder where I am.

I wonder if Salem is upset with her for letting me go.

Probably not — I’ll get the blame, no doubt — but one can dream, can one not?

Once they heard that she had defeated whoever was responsible for kidnapping innocent Atlesian faunus, they’d probably be only too happy to rescue her.

Cinder flicked the switch to turn off the jammer.

Instantly, her scroll buzzed.

She reached for it. It might have been Sunset, and so, she reflexively pulled out her scroll only to be confronted by the face of an old man with a shock of white hair, an untidy handlebar moustache, and a goatee. A red eye, clearly cybernetic, burned in his left socket. A rich fruity voice emerged from out of Cinder’s scroll as he spoke.

“Forgive the cold call, as it were, young lady,” he said. “But since your comms don’t appear to be linked to any of the other children currently enjoying my island, I thought it might be nice to have a little word.”

Cinder’s eyebrows arched. “Doctor Merlot, I presume.”

“You know who I am?” he asked, looking somewhat surprised to hear it.

Cinder smirked. “Take a tip, Doctor; if you’re looking to stay anonymous, perhaps don’t splash your corporate logo on absolutely every surface that you can. Especially when that logo is the initial of your last name.”

Merlot did not reply directly. Instead, he said, “Ozpin sends his children in teams of four, so may I ask who you are and what you’re doing here?”

“I could ask what you’re doing more generally,” Cinder said. “Abducting grimm, desecrating them … there are other powers in the world beyond Ozpin, Doctor, and you have offended them greatly.”

“'Desecrating'?” Merlot asked incredulously. “I’m improving upon nature’s design.”

“'Improving'?” Cinder asked with deadly calm.

“The grimm are truly a superior species,” Merlot said, deaf to the sharpening of Cinder’s tone. “Immune to pity, to fear, to love, unburdened by all the weaknesses of mankind. But for all that, they remain frustratingly vulnerable, blinded by base instincts, prey to the weapons and abilities of Ozpin’s huntsmen. Do you know that a young grimm can’t resist attacking even though it is certain death to do so? I have taken promising savages and lifted them up, starting them along a path to their destiny as the supreme and superior species on Remnant.”

“And you will be their king, I suppose?” Cinder asked.

“A king? Why speak in such small, mean terms?” Merlot asked. “The power of my creations will set me above the gods themselves.”

Cinder chuckled. “You are a Valishman I take it, Doctor?”

“I was, once,” Merlot said. “I like to think that I have renounced and transcended the kingdoms of men.”

It was all Cinder could do not to roll her eyes. “Then, being a Valishman and a scientist, I take it you are not familiar with the vast corpus of Mistralian myths regarding men who presume to boast that they were superior to the gods in any way?”

“No,” he said, “no, I can’t say that I am.”

“Then let me sum up the general trend for you,” Cinder said. “It never ends well. I am no god myself, but nevertheless, I will remind you of what follows after hubris.” She hung up on him.

Idiot.

He’s lucky that I’m only going to kill him and not turn him into a grimm as the gods of old would have.

Cinder began to walk away. Obviously, he had some sort of facility on this island; all she had to do was find it and then find him.

In the meantime, she would let SAPR act as a distraction for Merlot’s security while she snuck in without so much interference. It was a little harsh, but she was confident that Sunset’s team would be able to handle it.

After all, they had Sunset and Pyrrha; that would be enough to see them through.

They would not perish at the hands of some arrogant irrelevance, before she had the chance to win back some of her pride.

She would not tolerate anything else.

“I think the last jammer just went down; Cinder did it,” Sunset said. “Professor Ozpin, can you—?”

“I did entertain some hope that you might provide some more scintillating conversation than your associate, but after hearing you call for Ozpin, my hopes fade by the second,” declared the voice on the other end of the line. It was definitely not Ozpin’s voice; it was richer, fuller, and a little more full of itself as well. “You’re obviously just another four of the self-righteous huntsmen that Oz so delights in churning out.”

“Who is this?” Pyrrha demanded from her position, her voice entering Sunset’s ear via the earpiece. “Who are you?”

The voice chuckled. “Not as insightful as your associate either. Permit me to introduce myself, my name—”

“Merlot,” the voice of Professor Ozpin interrupted him. “Like the rest of the world, I believed you to be dead. Unlike some, I also hoped that it was so.”

“Hoped I was dead?” the other voice — Merlot — asked in mock horror. “Come now, Oz, is that any way to speak to an old chum?”

“If we were ever friends, Merlot, I’m not aware of it,” Ozpin said dryly.

“That’s because you don’t let yourself have any friends, Oz, but believe me, there was a time when I would have done absolutely anything to make you proud.”

“'Merlot'?” Sunset said. “The Merlot? Founder of Merlot Industries? You’re—”

“Supposed to be dead?” Merlot asked. “Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, it seems.”

“I should have known,” Ozpin said wearily. “I had hoped that, you having done so much to bring about the Mountain Glenn tragedy, you would at least have had the good grace to perish alongside those you condemned by your heedless arrogance, but of course, that never was your style, was it, Merlot? It was always others who had to pay the price for your recklessness.”

“Reckless?” Merlot snapped. “You sent four children here, and you call me reckless? Tell me, Oz, old pal, how many people have you sent to their deaths over the years while you sat safe in your emerald tower?”

“Far too many for my liking,” Ozpin admitted. “And that is a weight that I have to carry; why do I doubt that the lives you’ve cost burden your shoulders nearly so much?”

“Professor Ozpin?” Ruby said. “What are you talking about?”

Ozpin sighed. “Doctor Merlot was expelled from Beacon after he convinced a team of first years to go into the Emerald Forest and act as bait as part of a plan he had devised to capture some grimm for study.”

“How could we develop superior strategies and weapons for combating the grimm if we never studied the grimm?” Merlot demanded. “Beacon clings to ancient orthodoxies without ever trying to verify them; Grimm Studies is based on fleeting observation and anecdote combined with teachings so ancient, they’re antefractionarian, simply because they’ve survived being passed from hand to hand over the centuries. I wanted to see for myself!”

“And as a result, three of your fellow students died, and another was gravely injured in the body and scarred in the mind and soul,” Ozpin snapped.

“Has any great thing ever been accomplished without sacrifice?”

“And it still wasn’t enough,” Ozpin thundered. “You didn’t stop there, did you, Merlot? You were luring grimm to Mountain Glenn, weren’t you?”

The momentary silence was broken by Merlot saying, “I needed more specimens than could be acquired any other way.”

Ruby gasped. “You … you mean you … you brought the grimm to Mountain Glenn? You’re the reason the city fell?”

“A mere speed bump on the path of scientific discovery,” Merlot declared breezily.

“We’re talking about people’s lives here!” Jaune said.

“The city was fundamentally untenable in any case; it probably would have fallen for some other reason sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t,” Jaune said. “It fell because of you.”

“And as a result, fell in a greater purpose than would otherwise have been the case.”

“You’re a monster,” Pyrrha said.

“On the contrary, my dear girl, I am a visionary,” Merlot declared. “I am the only one—”

“Shut up,” Ruby snarled, her voice coming out raggedly, as though she was about to start sobbing. When Sunset looked at her, she could see tears welling at the edges of her eyes. “Just … shut up!

“There was a girl … her name was Skye. Her parents moved out to Mountain Glenn so that they could have a better life than in Vale. She loved her friends, and the colour pink, and she had a crush on a cool young huntsman she’d seen in the Vytal Festival. And she’s dead because of what you did!

“There was a huntress, her name was Elphaba Westwick, she was Professor Goodwitch’s partner when they were students at Beacon; she believed in humanity, and she fought for humanity, and she died trying to defend Mountain Glenn against the monsters that you brought there. Those people … all of those people that you killed … all of those lives and dreams that you snuffed out … I’m going to make you pay for all of them!”

Merlot’s only response was to laugh. “My my, Oz, what fierce little kittens you’re training at Beacon nowadays.”

“Patronising ass,” Sunset muttered.

In truth … in truth, she felt nearly as sick to the stomach as Ruby seemed furious. The cloak of righteousness did not fit her well, she knew; it was a shabby, tawdry thing upon her shoulders, stained by all the ways that she had behaved unrighteously, and yet … for science? To do all this, to send people to their deaths, to condemn a city, for science? Sunset had been willing to take a risk for the sake of those she loved, but this … just to find out more? Just to advance your own knowledge?

She felt ill, although not so much at Merlot as at the fact that for all that she might disdain his motives, the end results of their actions could have been the same. If Vale had fallen as Mountain Glenn had fallen, then it would have mattered little that her intentions were arguably more noble than his.

“Do you regret it, Doctor?” Sunset asked. “Do you regret what you did, ever? Do you ever wake up in the morning and wish that you had done other than you did, that things had turned out differently?”

“I somewhat regret that I have been forced to hide on this island for many years past, does that count?”

“Do you regret the dead?” Sunset demanded. “Do you regret the cost of the advancement of your knowledge?”

Merlot feigned a yawn. “My dear girl, at least they died for something. Their deaths were worth more than their miserable little lives ever were. Just as your deaths will be worth more than your tedious lives as part of a little experiment I’ve been dying to try, if you’ll excuse the execrable play on words.”

“These students are more than a match for your robots, Merlot,” Ozpin declared.

“Yes, it will probably make you feel very smug to know that they’ve proved that already,” Merlot said. “You never did rate my androids, did you Oz?”

“If you mean that I never believed you when you said they could replace huntsmen on the battlefield then no, I didn’t,” Ozpin said. “It seems that I have been proved right.”

“These particular students are somewhat above average,” Merlot conceded, “but that’s what makes them so perfect for my experiment. You see, it isn’t androids that I wish to test. It’s something much, much more interesting.”

The sounds of gunfire erupted in Sunset’s earpiece.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune yelled.

“Jaune?” Sunset cried. “Pyrrha?”

“Best of luck,” Merlot said.

The beowolf had wings.

It was absolutely a beowolf. Pyrrha was not so wearied, confused, or discombobulated that she had mistaken a nevermore or a griffon for a beowolf. It was a beowolf: a green, mutated beowolf, but a beowolf nonetheless. But it also had wings, black leathery wings like a bat which carried the beowolf through the air towards her and Jaune, diving down towards them with its teeth-filled maw bared and open.

It was smaller than some of the mutants created by Doctor Merlot — for this bizarre chimera surely had to be his work somehow too; the green tint gave it away, for all that it was a less bright and vivid green than found on some of the mutated grimm they had so far encountered — and yet, for a moment, the sight of it so astonished and discomfited Pyrrha that she could not react.

The moment passed. This may be one of the more bizarre grimm that she had ever seen, it might have been augmented by the dark lights of a perverted science, but it was just a grimm nevertheless, and being a grimm, it could be slain.

Miló formed into rifle mode in her hands as she raised it to her shoulder, aiming down the sights straight at the swooping demon as it descended for them straight as a javelin.

“What is that thing?” Jaune asked.

“It’s just a grimm, like any other,” Pyrrha murmured, as much to herself as to Jaune.

She fired, once, twice. Her first shot missed as the grimm rolled sideways as she squeezed the trigger, but her second shot caught it in the shoulder and made it howl in pain as its roll turned into an ungainly diving fall towards the water of the lake.

Pyrrha, standing on the very edge of the metal step with the lake’s water just an inch below her toes, lined up her third shot even as the bat-beowolf tried to recover its descent.

She barely had time to register the dark shadow in the water beneath her before another beowolf, with fins upon its forelegs, erupted up from out of the lake and grabbed her by the ankles.

“Pyrrha! Jaune yelled.

“Jaune?” Sunset shouted through the ear piece. “Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha said nothing. She couldn’t say anything because the beowolf had dragged her underwater in moments; the sound of Jaune’s voice became muffled as Pyrrha’s head disappeared beneath the surface. The blue water of the lake was all around her now, beginning to darken as the grimm pulled her down towards the bottom of the lake.

It had one foreleg — one finned foreleg, like the fins that some fish faunus had, and its hind legs had webbed toes — wrapped around Pyrrha’s legs as it slashed at her, gouging her aura with its other leg even as it snapped at her like its jaws.

Pyrrha punched it on the snout with her free hand, grabbing hold of it to stop it getting its jaws into her. It struggled, of course, but she was able to hold it off for now. She still had Miló in her hand. Not all weapons were designed to work under water, but there were some advantages to coming from an old and wealthy family: namely, high quality equipment with a price-tag equivalent to said quality. Miló transformed into a spear beneath the water as easily as it would have done on land, and Pyrrha thrust it down into the shoulder of this strange aquatic beowolf.

She had little time to wonder at the strangeness of that, though it was undoubtedly strange. She had no time to do anything but fight, and so, she stabbed the beowolf with her spear, impaling it upon the weapon and releasing a cloud of green ooze out into the water all around her. Pyrrha kicked herself free of the dead beowolf’s grip, and kicked its body — turning to ash too slowly for her liking or her needs — off of her spear while she trod water, or tried to. She knew how to swim, but it was a little more difficult while wearing armour and having one hand encumbered with a weapon. Her hair floated out behind her but, being tied back, did not obscure her vision. Pyrrha floated backwards out of the cloud of ooze the dead grimm had released and looked behind her towards the surface. There was no ladder out of the lake, so she would have to scramble out onto the tower. She could do that, but she would be vulnerable while she did it.

Still, it would have to be done. She had only just had time to catch her breath before the grimm pulled her under, and she couldn’t hold it forever. And Jaune might need her help dealing with that flying beowolf.

A cry drew Pyrrha’s attention. Not a human cry, not Jaune calling for help, but a cry from the depths of the lake below her, shrill and shrieking as it echoed through the water.

She looked down. There, at the bottom of the lake, she could see some kind of square hole or open hatch, leading into a dark recess whose gloom her eyes could not penetrate; and there, out of the hatch and into the lake, were pouring more aquatic beowolves: some with fins on their legs, others with webbed toes, some with the lower halves of their bodies replaced with fish tails lightly encrusted with bone instead of scales. All, though they might circle around the lake, were rising up towards her.

She had to get out of this water, and she couldn’t scramble out with these creatures coming up behind her.

Pyrrha pulled her shield from off her back and threw it downwards like a thunderbolt descending from the heavens, using her semblance rather more than the force of her arm to overcome the resistance of the water all around her. Her arm was sheathed in black as she propelled her shield faster and faster down and down to strike the closest aquatic beowolf on the head, knocking it downwards, stunning it as it ceased to swim and began to sink instead. The other beowolves let out more of those shrill underwater shrieks and began to close upon her, swimming faster now as if anger lent them haste.

Pyrrha reversed the direction of her polarity, pulling her shield back up towards her. Come on, faster. She pulled harder, as hard as she dared without damaging Akoúo̱ with the force upon it, drawing it up towards her as the grimm closed in. She slashed with her spear, whirling it through the water with her right hand, drawing more green ooze as a beowolf whined in pain and turned away from her.

Her shield struck her feet, and as Pyrrha continued to pull it upwards, it acted almost like a rocket on her, pushing her upwards and propelling her out of the water from which she rose, spraying water in all directions, pulling her shield onto her arm as she leapt from her balance on it and towards the land.

Jaune was fending off the bat-beowolf; though he hadn’t killed it, he looked as though he had given it a couple of cuts, and he was using his shield well to keep it away from him. It flew away, circling around for another pass.

Pyrrha threw her shield at it even as she landed on the metal platform with a clattering thump, dripping water down upon the floor. Akoúo̱, guided by her semblance, struck home and dropped the bat-beowolf into the water.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried, overjoyed.

Pyrrha smiled, but only briefly. “Be careful, there are more creatures in the water.”

Jaune grinned. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as he stepped forward and thrust his sword into the lake. Then he discharged a burst of the lightning dust that he’d loaded into the pommel.

Lightning erupted into the lake, the electric bursts rippling across the surface of the water and all through it, all the way to the very bottom of the lake. Jaune held the blade into the water, he held it there, and he kept firing until he must have used half the lightning dust in that vial, but when he pulled his dripping sword out of the water again, there was no sign of any of those aquatic beowolves, or even the bat-winged beowolf, rising from the water.

Only the faint tendrils of smoke from dead and decaying grimm disturbed the tranquillity of the water.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha pulled Jaune a step back from the water’s edge just in case.

“What … what were they?” Jaune asked.

“I … I’m not sure…” Pyrrha said. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay split up any longer. Sunset? Sunset, can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Sunset said loudly. “Yes, Pyrrha, I can hear you.”

“Are you and Jaune okay?” Ruby demanded. “What was that shooting?”

“We’re fine now,” Jaune said. “We had a little run in with some aquatic beowolves?”

There was a moment of pause on the other end of the line.

“Did you just say ‘aquatic beowolves’?” Sunset demanded.

“Indeed, strange as it may sound,” Pyrrha replied. “Although I supported the idea of splitting up, I now believe we should regroup as soon as possible.”

“Right,” Sunset agreed. “Did you deal with the … aquatic beowolves?”

“For now,” Jaune said.

“Then stay put,” Sunset said. “We’ll come to you.”

It didn’t take long for Sunset and Ruby to reunite with Jaune and Pyrrha, and they all stood under the jamming tower — standing well back from the water in case there were any more surprises from that direction — discussing the encounter that Pyrrha and Jaune had just been through.

“So the experiment that Merlot wanted us to take part in … was that it?” Jaune asked.

“Well, that was certainly a part of it,” Merlot’s voice purred cheerfully into their earpieces, “but don’t think that the experiment is over just yet.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Can’t we have a little privacy while we talk about how to defeat you? Or if you’re going to eavesdrop, why don’t you tell us something useful, like how you created these weird grimm?”

“You mean to say that you haven’t figured it out yet?” Merlot asked, sounding a little disappointed. “Oz, are you selecting for brawn rather more than brains these days?”

“Oh, I’m sorry that my knowledge of mad science isn’t as good as it ought to be,” Sunset said. I’d like to see you explain the theory behind duplication decay.

“Nevertheless, as I’m sure Oz would agree, I can’t just give you the answer when you’ll learn so much more working it out for yourselves,” Merlot said. “Find your way to my lab, and you’ll find the answers you’re looking for. And we can continue our little experiment along the way. Everybody wins … until somebody doesn’t.”

“I can’t believe that I’m about to say this,” Ozpin said, “but you’re going to have to do as he says. Although you’ve made contact, I can’t yet get a sufficiently accurate trace on your location to pinpoint Merlot’s island. I can arrange forces to support you and take Merlot into custody, but for that to happen, I need to know where to send your backup. You need to explore the island further, find Doctor Merlot’s main facility—”

“And send you a signal so that you can send the cavalry in,” Sunset said.

“Exactly, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “You’ve all done exceptionally well so far. I want to make that very clear to all of you. While some decisions have been made that I disagree with, I want to say that I’m proud of what you’ve managed to accomplish … and to survive so far. And though it may be the worst is yet to come, I have no doubt that, so long as you work together, you will overcome all obstacles and return home. And until then … even though staying on this line is as close to helping you as I can come, I’ll stay here until your mission is complete.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “There were times in Mountain Glenn and after … it means a great deal to know that we’re not alone.”

“You are never alone, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “You have one another.”

Pyrrha looked a little guilty about something — Sunset couldn’t think of anything that Pyrrha might need to feel guilty about — for a moment, but all she said was, “I know, Professor.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Sunset said.

“On the contrary, students,” Professor Ozpin. “The thanks are all yours.”

“I…” Sunset hesitated, because she didn’t really know how to respond to this. She understood Professor Ozpin better now, but she still didn’t know how to react to this kind of effusive praise. “I … right. Okay. Let’s head towards the third jamming tower, see if Cinder’s still there, and then start exploring the island for this lab.”

Cinder might have come under attack by these extraordinary grimm herself, although Sunset wasn’t too concerned for her ability to withstand them. Still, they would go to her first and then see just what there was to find.

The answers seemed so close now, much closer than they had appeared to be when on the approach to the island.

The question was, how grim would those answers be once SAPR found them?

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is a good deal longer than it was, with the addition of a few new scenes, principally the conversation between Cinder and Pyrrha over why Cinder didn't use her Maiden powers in the duel, and what that means for the way they see one another.

Then we get the scene between Ruby and Pyrrha, which leads to a substantial change to this chapter, originally it was Pyrrha who wanted to kill Cinder and take her powers, having been so frightened by them that she was desperate to get them for herself. Here Pyrrha is calmer and it's Ruby who wants to stab Cinder in the back, in keeping with the ideas she expressed during the duel that the fact that they're on the right side gives them license to do almost anything for the good cause.

And then we find out that Cinder heard that.

Afterwards, in the stuff that was written already, there were fewer changes, except that Pyrrha doesn't ask Jaune for help in killing Cinder, for obvious reasons, rather they talk about Ruby's plan to do so (and Pyrrha suggests that they should split up in order that Ruby can't carry out her intentions and she, Pyrrha, doesn't have to decide what to do about it).

A Grimm Discovery (Rewritten)

A Grimm Discovery

“You know, I was as foolish as you, once,” Merlot opined as the four huntsmen picked their way across his island. Four, not five; they hadn’t found Cinder at the last jamming station, and although they’d found a trail of green ooze that seemed like a promising lead to follow, they’d eventually lost that too. It was starting … not to worry Sunset, not exactly, but to concern her at least: where was Cinder, and why hadn’t she made contact with them? She wasn’t afraid that Cinder had been defeated, but she was a little disturbed by her silent, unexplained refusal to rejoin the rest of them.

Especially since night had fallen by now; they had been working their way across the island all day without much success at actually finding anything: not Merlot’s lab, or a way to get their location to Professor Ozpin. The fact that it was night had Sunset somewhat on edge: grimm saw better than humans — or Sunset’s kind of faunus — at night, and the rocky plain on which they walked had a surface so dark it was especially hard to see anything.

She wouldn’t have done this, but it wasn’t as though they had much choice; this wasn’t Mountain Glenn, it wasn’t as though they could find somewhere to hold out for the night, this was Merlot’s island, and it was small enough for him to know it well. They had no choice but to keep going, no matter how much Sunset might dislike the fact.

The fact that Merlot just would not shut up wasn’t really helping matters.

“There was a time,” Merlot continued, “when, like you, I believed in Ozpin and his ideals. There was even a time when I wanted nothing more than to be a huntsman and defend humanity against the foul creatures of grimm.”

“I’m sorry, are you still talking?” Sunset demanded as she kicked away a pebble that lay in their path.

“I only started studying the grimm because I wanted to create better weapons, superior countermeasures,” Merlot continued. “After all, if we didn’t know our enemies, then how could we defeat them?”

“We know enough,” Pyrrha muttered.

“Ah, a traditionalist? And yet, where did your elegant weapon come from if not as a result of clever men like me working tirelessly to advance science and technology?”

“Nobody died in order to create my weapons,” Pyrrha declared.

“And yet, people die every day fighting the grimm without really understanding them,” Merlot said. “Ozpin sends them off to die, just as he has sent you, with your knowledge coming out of mouldering texts delivered to you by equally mouldering professors. Tell me, Oz, is Peter Port, the great windbag himself, still teaching Grimm Studies?”

'The great windbag'? This from a guy who seems to think we’re hanging on the edge of our seats to know his life story.

Maybe he doesn’t like Professor Port because he sees too much of himself in him. Like me and … too many people to list, really.

“Professor Port may have a somewhat discursive style of teaching,” Ozpin said, “but he takes his role of preparing the students for what they’re about to face in the field very seriously; certainly, he has never endangered any students, still less caused their deaths. Unlike some applicants for the position.”

“I just thought that it might be a good idea if you were to have a Grimm Studies professor who was actually interested in studying the grimm,” Merlot declared snippily, as though this was something that had been bothering him for some time.

“Your obsession with studying the grimm has been and will continue to be your downfall,” Ozpin replied.

“'Downfall'?” Merlot said. “My downfall? It is only through studying the grimm that I realised the truth! That I could truly appreciate the brilliance of the grimm’s design. There must be a god in this world, for only an intelligent creator could have spawned such a … a pure organism: their biology, their unbridled aggression, their focussed instincts, they are the supreme killing machine.”

“Which is why you stopped looking for ways to kill the grimm and started worshipping them instead?” Sunset asked.

“Not at first, even then,” Merlot said. “At first, I still, naively, thought that I could win back Ozpin’s trust and respect. I set to work designing androids, the greatest androids that Remnant had ever seen, better by far than anything that the Schnee Dust Company or the Atlesian military had ever developed. I thought that they could take the place of huntsmen on the battlefield.”

“As I told you, Merlot, as I have told Ironwood, as I have always said,” Ozpin said, “no robot or android, however powerful or well-designed, will ever be able to replace a huntsman on the battlefield.”

“And why is that? Because if they did, it would threaten your monopoly on violence?”

“Because the hand that pulls the trigger should have a soul behind it capable of judging whether it’s right or wrong to do so,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Quite so, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “But also because even the most sophisticated androids are slaves to their programming: they can never find a new and novel solution to an unexpected problem, they can never decide to go above and beyond what has been asked of them in the face of a threat greater than could have been imagined when the mission began, they can never dig deep within themselves and find the resolve to stand against insurmountable odds. I understand the urge to replace humans on the front lines with weapons whose loss does not affect us, but it cannot happen because, in the end, our humanity is the greatest weapon against the grimm that we possess.”

“Spare me the sermon, Oz; 'our humanity'? Humanity is doomed; can’t you see that? Against an organism as perfectly designed for slaughter as the grimm, no army or defence can stand forever.”

“We’ve killed lots of grimm,” Ruby said, “and we aren’t beaten yet.”

“And yet you haven’t even made a dent in their numbers,” Merlot said. “I admit that the grimm have their flaws, and I will even admit that troubled me. But then I made a discovery.”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I think that we’ve just made a discovery as well.”

They stood on the lip of a sharp drop down into a kind of rocky trench, seemingly carved into the stone and leading away to the east. In the trench, or perhaps it was a naturally occurring but very, very shallow canyon, Sunset and the others could see bubbling pools of ichorous turquoise ooze.

“Eww, this smells terrible,” Ruby said, wrinkling her nose in a way that would have been adorable in a slightly less tense situation. “Like Uncle Qrow’s shirt.”

On the grounds that it was the first thing that they’d found all night, Sunset slid down the slope and into the trench, walking cautiously towards the nearest pool of ooze.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said cautiously, “I’d stay away from whatever that is.”

“I’m not about to go swimming in it,” Sunset murmured as she unslung her rifle and poked at the pool with the tip of her bayonet. The substance wasn’t corrosive, or at least, it didn’t melt said bayonet, but it was viscous, and it clung to the tip of the knife when Sunset pulled back her gun.

“What’s Merlot even doing here?” Jaune asked, gesturing towards the pipes that, in the darkness, Sunset could just about make out running along the walls of the trench. “Are they harvesting this … whatever it is?”

“Students, have you found something?” Ozpin asked.

“Bubbling toxic pools and a collection of pipes,” Pyrrha said, with obviously false cheer. “We’re on to something.”

“There are a whole bunch of machines as far as I can see,” Ruby added. “I’m pretty sure they’re pumping something.”

“I suspect you’re right, Mister Arc: Merlot is harvesting this substance. He came to this island for a reason, after all, and I suspect whatever his reason is can’t be good.”

“And a gold star for Professor Ozpin,” Merlot said cheerfully. “My research into the grimm had revealed their potential, but it wasn’t until I stumbled across this island that I knew what I had to do. This is the only place on Remnant where I’ve discovered this substance. I call it Sycorax. Naturally occurring here, and only here as far as I can tell, it has unique properties that make it impossible to synthesise, even for a chemist so accomplished as myself. But, by refining what I can harvest and making a few additions in the course of the refinery process, I’ve been able to create a bonding agent that transforms the host organism in all the ways that you’ve already seen: enhanced strength, speed, survival instinct … for those organisms that survive the bonding process, that is. That’s yet another point in favour of the grimm; their existing qualities make them the perfect organism for the bonding.”

“So that’s what you did to the grimm,” Ruby said.

“You make it sound as though this ooze is alive,” Sunset said.

“Not in its natural state,” Merlot said. “But, when bonded … it is almost as if something inside the substance awakens and transmits itself into the host as part of the transformation. With the addition of Sycorax, the perfection of the grimm was almost complete. All that was needed was … well, plenty of time for that later.”

“Students, I need you to follow that pipeline,” Ozpin said. “It will probably lead you to Merlot’s main facility.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “First follow the train tracks, now follow the pipes. Nice for Merlot to always leave us a trail to follow.”

Where are you, Cinder?

And what am I going to do if we get to the end of the line and you still haven’t caught up yet?

They followed the pipes, which had overloaded in places and ruptured, emitting — fortunately — not the ooze that Merlot had christened Sycorax but simply venting out steam, which could be eliminated simply by turning one of the various conveniently placed cranks to enable to proceed without burning their aura up protecting them from steam burns.

A few of Merlot’s mutated grimm barred their way: creeps that seemed to like swimming in the toxic pools that had birthed their strange mutations, beowolves that prowled backwards and forwards as if they knew they were on guard, and some of the grimm were prodded into place by the crimson androids. But, fortunately for them, there were none of the truly bizarre hybrids that Merlot had cooked up and which he still declined to explain, and though some of the mutant beowolves were tough, SAPR was able to make good use of the fact that they were advancing down a bottleneck, funnelling the grimm towards them in small numbers, using the fact that the creeps exploded to good effect — even if it was using up what had already been a vanishingly small supply of bullets, Sunset was inclined to think that it was a good use when she saw the creeps explode and take the beowolves and the androids with them, or at least injure or damage them considerably — to inflict more damage than their weapons could have inflicted alone.

Pyrrha in particular gave good account of herself during these actions, as SAPR pushed down the trench or narrow canyon following the trail of pipes. Pyrrha always gave good account of herself, but this time, it was a little different; although when the mutated grimm with their glowing green eyes and their maws that emitted the emerald light of the island’s ooze came close enough, she would be found in her place at the forefront of the fighting, hair and sash alike swirling around her as she danced through the midst of the enemy with Miló lashing out this way and that, that was not the most notable thing about her performance in this battle. No, what was most notable was how much more willing than usual she was to use her semblance to destructive effect was. It seemed as if her shield hand — which bore no shield, as Akoúo̱ was currently slung across her back — was permanently sheathed in the black halo that signified her use of polarity, and being used powerfully, what was more. She wasn’t just using it to move the spears of Merlot’s androids a little, or even to swing them around so that they shot each other instead of Pyrrha or any of her friends. She was ripping them apart limb from limb, crushing their chests, sending their spears flying to impale the grimm in the back. She was shredding their enemies without having to use her spear or shield at all.

It was very, very impressive to see … but to be honest, it was a little worrying as well. Sunset felt, and maybe she was alone in this and almost certainly she was way out of line to think it, but as she watched Pyrrha stand at the forefront of the ground, one arm — darkened by the black corona — raised to gesture at Merlot’s androids, demolishing them with the sheer force of her will … it almost felt as though she wasn’t looking at Pyrrha anymore.

Especially since she didn’t seem to be turning it off at any point. The pipes rattled and rumbled as she passed, and a couple of times, they actually ruptured, although thankfully not until the entirety of SAPR had passed by the point at which the steam and ooze alike exploded outwards.

But more than that, there was the fact that Pyrrha didn’t seem to be … didn’t seem to be all there with the rest of them. There was a look in her eyes as though … as though only the enemy really mattered at the moment, as though Pyrrha was really fighting solo, and all the rest of them were just trailing in her wake.

She had become quieter and more withdrawn as the day had gone on; Sunset was almost certain that she was brooding upon her thoughts — that was another downside of having nowhere to stop and rest; as you got more tired, your thoughts turned to things that were best not thought about, best slept on. Everything that might have felt less urgent, less worrisome under the night of day became magnified by the darkness, and then, of course, your worries started to reinforce themselves in a self-perpetuating cycle of ever-growing anxiety.

Unfortunately, by the time Sunset had noticed this and guessed what might be happening, it already felt a little late to do anything about it.

Not least because their enemies would not give them a moment’s peace.

They came to the end of the trench, which came to an abrupt stop at the edge of a high cliff leading straight down a very sharp and very, very long drop. Fortunately, a way ahead was provided by the very pipes that they had been following to get here; they extended out over the abyss in lines wide enough to be walked upon, spreading out to the left and to the right where a mixture of more rocky cliff and bridging metal walkways awaited them.

The route to the right was cut off by a rupture in one of the pipes, venting steam upwards like a geyser. They could have crossed it, but they would have taken a hit to their aura that they didn’t need to risk, and in any case, a pipe that had ruptured was not likely to be the most stable of places to put your feet if you wanted to avoid the risk of it collapsing underneath you.

But it was Pyrrha who started first upon the left-hand path, without a word; she just started across the pipes, leaving the rest of them to follow.

I suppose it is the only way we have. I cannot tell her not to take that path any more than I can tell her not to dispose of our enemies so swiftly.

So Sunset said nothing as she, Jaune, and Ruby followed Pyrrha out across the pipes. The pipes that started to groan painfully under the influence of Pyrrha’s semblance. The metal around the pipes on either edge of the makeshift walkway began to crumple, crushed inwards by the power that Pyrrha was exerting without — unless Sunset was misreading this completely — intending to at all.

As the pipes creaked ominously, Sunset looked down at her booted feet, trying to look only at her booted feet and not at the enormous drop beneath them. Glancing up again, it looked as though Jaune in front of her was just as worried about his footing as she was. Sunset looked back over her shoulder, but Ruby’s concern seemed only to be regarding Pyrrha, not where she was walking. That figured; she could probably use her semblance to zip to either side of the cliff the moment she felt the surface give way beneath her.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune asked nervously, but she didn’t appear to hear him.

The creaking of the pipes got louder.

“Pyrrha?” Jaune repeated, with even more nervousness.

The creaking of the pipes became a screech as an entire section became flattened down as though the metal pipes designed to withstand the masses of toxic fluid swirling within them were mere drinking straws squashed beneath the palms of someone’s giant hand. Jaune squawked in alarm, crying out as he lost his balance on the metal surface, his arms whirling, thrashing blindly as he teetered out over the edge of the cliff.

Pyrrha heard that. The distance in her eyes was gone as she whirled around, replaced by blind, wide-eyed panic as she yelled out Jaune’s name and threw out her hand to him. He caught it, and Pyrrha managed to prevent herself from being pulled off with him, rather hauled him back onto the dubiously safe ground of the pipe bridge.

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I…” She looked down at the damage that she had done to the pipes. “I don’t know what happened.”

Sunset frowned, but said nothing. Now hardly seemed the time.

When they were all standing on something a little more solid, that was the time.

They quickened their pace, and with Pyrrha having — temporarily — halted the use of her semblance, they were able to move more freely and with a greater feeling of safety down the pipes and onto a metal platform supported by a tower of scaffolding secured to the cliff edge. The pipes continued to lead away to the south, but first, they were confronted by a six-strong squad of red androids, their spear tips gleaming the same fluorescent green as their eyes as they bore down upon the huntsmen.

Pyrrha raised her shield hand once again, and once again, she reached for her semblance. The distinctive black light of polarity enveloped her arm, and also enveloped the androids too. She didn’t crush them this time, she didn’t rip them limb from limb either; she simply shoved them all to the right, straight through the safety railing and off the cliff where she let them fall off the drop to their inevitable destruction.

Sunset decided that now was the time as she walked up behind her. “You’re freer with that than usual.”

Pyrrha looked down at her blackened arm. “I…” The dark shadow of her semblance faded. “I really am sorry about before,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Jaune. “I’m not used to using my semblance so continuously, without turning it off. Continuous use like this, over a sustained period, it’s … a little hard to control; I don’t have the practice.”

“Then…“ Sunset hesitated upon the edge of asking why; she felt as though she knew the answer already. “When you and Cinder talked on the boat, I thought that … I thought that the two of you had … I thought that it was settled.”

“I fear that it will not be settled until one of us is dead,” Pyrrha murmured.

“She does not hate you as she did,” Sunset replied. “At least, that is how it seems to me.”

“Yet her desire to fight with me is yet undiminished; she did not call me her rival for nothing,” said Pyrrha. She paused for a moment. “It strikes me that … Cinder … is me.”

Sunset snorted. “If I had said that, you would be the first to tell me it was not so.”

“Hiding her power,” Pyrrha said. “Fighting with less than she was capable of.”

Cinder didn’t use the least amount of her ability that would allow to win anyway, Sunset thought, but did not say because it sounded harsh. “Her reasons … are not the same as yours.”

“No, indeed, her reasons are more practical,” Pyrrha muttered. “I’d never thought of it in quite this way before, but I feel … somewhat condescended to. Not intentionally on Cinder’s part, that is some comfort at least, but nevertheless … she did not use her powers against me because they would have given her victory.”

Sunset did not reply to that. She was not certain how to reply to that. She had enjoyed the return of Pyrrha’s confidence, she was by no means anxious for it to slip away again, and yet … she was not certain how to bandage whatever wound Cinder had made. Cinder’s power was great, after all; there was no denying that. The power of a Maiden had turned the Red Queen from a bandit into, well, a queen. The power of a Maiden had been so dangerous in the wrong hands that Professor Ozpin had hidden it away, preferring to rob the world of light than risk its perversion.

All of which meant that it would be difficult for Sunset to argue with a straight face that it was of no consequence that Cinder had turned out to be the Fall Maiden.

And yet, she wanted to say something before Pyrrha did something she would regret, or fell into an even greater despair than she had suffered before her duel with Cinder.

“Such, at least, is what Cinder believes,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset tried to restrain the tendency of her eyebrows to raise up. “You don’t agree?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “What do you think is worse?” she said quietly. “Thinking that you are only alive because of someone’s sense of honour, or thinking that it need not have been so, but they, despite all their protestations, did not think enough of you to exert their full strength against you?”

Sunset shuffled on the balls of her feet. “I mean … leaving magic aside, you’re already only alive because of Cinder’s sense of honour; if she’d wanted to lure you into a trap and kill you, she could have done it already — as I believe was pointed out to you at the time.”

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “Yes, I … I recall that one of you might have mentioned it as a possibility,” she murmured. “Nevertheless … Cinder may think herself undefeatable, but recall that the Red Queens were hunted down in the past and defeated by those who, like us, had only … what we have to rely on.”

“You’re speaking rather obliquely.”

“I do not know who may be listening,” Pyrrha reminded. “My point is … I want to show that I can give Cinder a real fight, with no holding back.”

“You’re … you’re taking this better than I thought you might, I must admit,” Sunset said.

“Would you rather that I despaired?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “No, not at all, I just…”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “Nor I. I … I would rather do something about it, if I can. And that involves testing my limits, seeing how long I can last, how much I can do. Would you begrudge me that?”

“I would begrudge you nought,” Sunset replied. “Nothing at all would I begrudge you or deny you; my comradeship least of all.”

She paused for a moment. I offered you my hand, Cinder; I offered you my hand, but you refused. I am sorry that you refused, I wish that you had accepted, and if you had accepted, then I would have kept my word and walked off the board with you. But, since you refused, since you are determined to fight this thing until death and destiny has claimed a life … then you must fight me also.

I choose Pyrrha. I will always choose Pyrrha; I can do nothing else.

“I … I know that you have misgivings about me, when it comes to Cinder,” Sunset went on. “You and Ruby and probably Jaune as well, for all I know. I would not be surprised. But if it came to battle, to her against you, against us … I would not hesitate.”

“I have never doubted that,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset smiled, for all that she snorted also, “You have no need to lie to me; I bear you no malice for your doubts.”

“No doubts,” Pyrrha insisted, her teal drops on their golden chains flying left and right as she shook her head. “No doubts at all. I have always known where your heart lies.” She placed one hand over Sunset’s heart, her fingertips lightly brushing the metal surface of Sunset’s cuirass. “Here, with us.”

The smile remained on Sunset’s face. “Then let your heart lie here with us in turn,” she urged, “and recall that it was not one great warrior but five who hunted down and defeated the Red Queens, one by one. You need not face Cinder in her pomp and power alone; in fact…” Again, she took pause, considering if her next step might constitute an overstepping of her bounds. Perhaps it was, but if Jaune could ask such a thing, then so could she.

Well, maybe not, but she was going to ask it anyway, and the worst thing Pyrrha could do was refuse. “In fact,” Sunset repeated, raising her voice so that Jaune and Ruby could hear her, “I will take a leaf out of Jaune’s book and ask your word that you will not seek her out again for such a battle on your own.”

Ruby and Jaune had stood a little farther off, giving the two of them some room to talk, but now that Sunset had let them know just what the two of them were talking about, they moved in a little closer, shuffling forwards in what might have been intended to be a discreet fashion, although the exact amount of discretion involved was somewhat limited by their circumstances: it was impossible to ignore the two of them or what they were doing.

“You’re talking about Cinder,” Ruby said, her tone making clear that this was a statement, not a question.

“You are talking about setting limits on my actions,” Pyrrha murmured.

Ruby folded her arms. “How the turn tables are … turned.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one gloved hand as she failed to restrain a laugh. “You have the right to your schadenfreude, no doubt; it was in poor taste of me to attempt to begrudge it, I am sorry.”

Ruby grinned. “There’s no need to apologise; I’m enjoying this too much to need an apology.”

“Sunset’s right,” Jaune said. “You can’t seriously be thinking about taking her on after what you’ve seen her do.”

“I would not seek out another bout of single combat between us; I am not a fool,” Pyrrha insisted. “I … I would not challenge her a third time to sate my vanity or further swell my self-conceit or even to answer once again my critics in the press; I do not value my pride or honour so that I would venture such a step against such power, but … would you have me flee before her? Would you have me fly in terror of her coming? May there not come a time when I have cause to fight her?”

“Then it will be cause for all of us,” Jaune said. “Together.”

Pyrrha hesitated. “You would have me admit that she is too much for me with Maiden’s magic, but you would throw yourself into the path of that same power?”

“I would rather die at your side than live with only a memory of you,” Jaune said earnestly.

Pyrrha’s eyes widened a little. “Jaune, I … I do not ask, I cannot—”

“You don’t have to,” Jaune replied, taking a step towards her. “I offer it freely.”

“Nobody is dying, not at Cinder’s hands or any other,” Sunset declared. “Neither of you, none of us. Cinder has stolen power, and that power makes her … powerful.” Tautology is unfortunate, but sometimes unavoidable when one cannot say exactly what one means.

“But power is my birthright, and I have power that, though it be not a match for hers in raw strength … with that power and with martial excellence combined, shall we not withstand her, overcome her even?”

A smile played upon the corners of Pyrrha’s lips. “You are invigorated since this mission began,” she observed.

“I’m glad it seems so,” Sunset muttered. “Being 'scaped safe from Mountain Glenn has done me good that this of Cinder’s power cannot erase. I … am glad that you do not wish to despair, but nor would I have you think that you need bear this challenge alone. As Professor Ozpin said, we are none of us alone. And so long as that is true, the eyes of the White Tower will see us come again, by mountain or by sea or more likely by airship, but they will see us come again, I have no doubt.”

She paused. “I would have you be one of the five heroes who followed the old man, not your namesake empress who rode to Argus.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “You make me feel foolish at best, excessively self-regarding at worst.”

“There is nothing wrong with a little self-regard,” Sunset said easily, “provided it isn’t carried to excess.”

Again, Pyrrha’s expression hinted at a smile without quite blossoming into one. “Then in the spirit of a little self-regard, I will say that I still dislike the implied condescension. But your point is well made; I will not … when we face her next, as I think we must one day, we shall face her together.”

She held out her hands to them. Sunset and Jaune each took one, while their free hands were taken by Ruby.

“Together,” Jaune said.

“Well, isn’t this lovely?” Merlot observed. “And not sickeningly saccharine at all.”

“Oh, for—” Sunset bit back on something very unladylike. “Can you not leave us in peace?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Merlot replied. “Except, perhaps, to spare myself the rising nausea—”

“We are not that bad!” Sunset snapped.

“Oh, yes, I’m afraid you are,” Merlot responded.

“You know what, I’m going to start singing, and then you’ll see what saccharine is,” Sunset declared.

“Don’t be ridicul—”

“You’re never gonna bring me down,” Sunset began to sing, letting go of Ruby and of Pyrrha’s hands as she began to sway with her own crooning, hands up by her face, hips shaking, “you’re never gonna take this part of me—”

“Someone, put her out of my misery,” Merlot muttered.

Sunset felt the paw close around her neck a moment before she was hoisted into the air, feet kicking, by the beowolf that had suddenly appeared as if from out of the empty air.

It was green, as all of the beowolves were that had been infected by this substance that Merlot called Sycorax, and large too, larger than an alpha beowolf, even if it lacked the bony spurs and armoured plates. It lifted Sunset up above its head and roared into her face.

Sunset punched it in said face, which didn’t seem to faze it very much but which did make it roar again, louder this time, green-flecked spittle striking Sunset’s cheeks as her hair blew back behind her.

Pyrrha stabbed it in the back, Miló changing fluidly into spear mode as she thrust it into the small of the beowolf’s back.

The beowolf roared, flailing at her with its free and trunk-like paw. Pyrrha ducked, letting the paw pass over her head, then rolled aside, drawing Miló free as she did so.

“Jaune!” Ruby cried. “Lancaster Leap!”

“You got it!” Jaune said, gripping his shield with both hands, holding it up at an angle facing towards the beowolf, the golden glow of his semblance rippling across its surface like water.

Ruby jumped, rose petals trailing behind her as she landed upon Jaune’s shield. The light of Jaune’s semblance, shimmering and shining, began to climb up her feet, crawling across the surface of her boots, before she kicked off the surface, moving faster than before, flying like a missile, Crescent Rose trailing after.

She flew past the beowolf’s face faster than it could react to slice off the arm that held Sunset in its grip.

Sunset hit the ground with a thud, landing on her backside and feeling the blow to her aura as her tailbone came into contact with the hard, grey ground.

The beowolf roared in pain as it looked down at the stump of its severed arm, the arm itself turning to ash as it lay beside Sunset.

Then the beowolf began to laugh, a harsh, guttural laugh that almost sounded as though it were trying to cough up something stuck in its throat.

And as it laughed, its arm grew back, or rather, a new arm sprung out of the stump, or … at any rate, it had two arms again, looking as though it had never been wounded at all.

It hunched down, bending its back to leer at Sunset, showing the white teeth set in its green-tinted jaws.

Sunset threw out one hand, a beam of magic erupting from her palm to strike the beowolf dead in the face.

I’d like to see you regrow your head after I’ve blown it off.

The grimm staggered backwards, and for a moment, Sunset thought — feared — that it might absorb the blow, take the magic without perishing; then her magic burned all the way through the beowolf’s face and body and out the other side before Sunset ceased her onslaught.

The faceless trunk — not strictly headless; this beowolf had no head, only a face set into its chest — stood for a moment, facing Sunset, before it collapsed onto the ground with a thud.

Sunset scrambled backwards, every member of the team retreating away as the body exploded in a shower of the green ooze called Sycorax.

“Your powers are as interesting as your morality is tedious,” Merlot observed. “I can’t wait to get you onto the operating table.”

Sunset got up. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she muttered.

“Obviously,” Merlot said flatly.

The grey goop emerged out of the darkness and the shadow to snare Sunset, pinning her arms to her sides as it wrapped around her like … like a spider’s silk. Sunset squirmed and struggled, but the sticky thread she was ensnared by was stronger, stronger than steel; she couldn’t break it, she couldn’t even make it budge a little bit; as she tried, she felt herself in danger of toppling over onto her side.

Another grimm appeared from out of nowhere, shimmering into view as it lumbered forwards. A trail of grey thread ran from the cords that bound Sunset to its left paw, which was invisible beneath the stuff.

With a tug, the beowolf pulled Sunset off balance and onto her back on the ground.

Jaune drew his sword, swinging Crocea Mors down upon the line of silky thread, where it got stuck; Jaune grunted as he pulled at it, but he could not tug it free.

Pyrrha gripped Miló — still in spear mode — tightly in both hands. “Ruby, we’ll snip the stem; come from the left, I’ll come from the right.”

“Right!” Ruby cried. “I mean, left! I mean, let’s go!”

They both charged, rushing towards the grimm from opposite directions, feet pounding upon the ground. Pyrrha ducked beneath the thread from the grimm’s paw as she came in from the front and the right-hand side; Ruby came in from behind on the left.

Miló and Crescent Rose attacked together, Ruby and Pyrrha swinging their weapons two-handed, both aiming for the beowolf’s midriff.

Their weapons struck home, carving through the green-black flesh, cutting into the beowolf, Miló passing beneath the blade of Crescent Rose as the two of them sliced the beowolf in half.

Its upper half was still alive as it dropped to the ground, roaring, growling, still holding Sunset bound, its threads still holding Crocea Mors fast; as it lay on the ground, a new pair of legs began to grow out of its severed torso.

Pyrrha raised Miló up above her head and brought it down upon the beowolf’s face.

The bone mask cracked but did not break.

Pyrrha threw Miló up into the air, the black light of her polarity engulfing the spear as she slammed it down with her semblance, just as Ruby struck with Crescent Rose.

The bone mask shattered, and the beowolf died. Pyrrha and Ruby leapt away before it exploded.

The thread that had held Sunset and Crocea Mors stuck fast dissolved to ashes.

Sunset got up, and the four huntsmen regrouped, back to back, staring warily out into the darkness and the shadows.

No further grimm appeared.

“First aquatic beowolves, now invisible ones,” Pyrrha murmured.

“And ones that can regrow body parts, or spit whatever that was,” Ruby added.

“What is going on here?” Pyrrha asked.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Merlot said smugly.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, he’s right,” she muttered. “We need to keep moving.”

And so they did. It was not their last encounter with either grimm or robots, far from it, but they did manage to fight their way through all who tried to bar their way, until at last they stood before a black cliff-edge, rising imposingly up in front of them, and set into the stone was a great door, easily wide enough for a train to be driven through — or for a monstrous grimm to stride into and out of.

As they stood there, getting their breath back amidst the shattered remains of the robots that Merlot had set to guard the doors, and which they had despatched one and all, the door rose up with a grinding, grumbling sound of engines, although what lay within was hidden from view by the brightness of the light spilling out.

“That seems almost like a trap,” Sunset said.

“And yet you’re going to walk into it anyway,” Merlot said. “You did come all this way looking for answers, after all.”

“Mmm,” Sunset grunted. “Although I’d have thought you’d be a bit more circumspect, considering you haven’t had much luck in stopping us so far.”

“It’s true, you’ve proven to be quite prodigious,” Merlot admitted. “That’s why I want you to come inside. The quicker we can get you into autopsy, the faster I can dissect your corpse and find out what kind of marvellous power you possess.”

“Thanks,” Sunset growled. “So … what do we think?”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Therefore, let us go,” she murmured.

“Right,” Sunset said softly, making a space for Ruby to stand beside her, as Jaune stood beside Pyrrha.

They took the first step forward together.

Author's Note

Rewrite notes: The second half of this chapter is completely rewritten, to take account of the fact that I didn't want to go back to Pyrrha's angst and insecurity, and so that meant drastically curtailing, and reinterpreting her actions during this chapter from the original, replacing it with another encounter with the hybrid grimm, reusing the spider beowolf that was cut from the last chapter.

Final Exam (Rewritten)

Final Exam

Merlot’s laboratory looked as though it had been built for giants, not men.

Pyrrha was glad that she had not voiced that thought aloud, for fear that it would make her seem childish, but it was one that persisted in the back of her mind nevertheless. She was no stranger to vast rooms with high ceilings looming overhead many times higher than the tallest of men, she was not amazed by the fact that the roof was not resting just above the top of Jaune’s head. In terms of the actual size of the room — or rather, the long corridor, since there seemed to be little to nothing to actually do in this place — itself, she was not unfamiliar with the scale of it. The ancient throne room in the Mistral Palace, where the Maple Throne sat, was just as large, while the Great Hall was larger still, even if one discounted the outdoor elements; in her own house, there was a ballroom that was as large as this grand chamber — she had entertained herself sometimes, idling away a few passing moments here or there, by imagining herself gliding down the stairs into that same ballroom, while Jaune stood at the bottom of the stairs and gasped in awe at how lovely she looked, just like a fairytale; there was a reason she kept a lot of her thoughts private — and of course, Beacon’s hallowed halls included many rooms — classrooms, ballroom, even the cafeteria — that were every bit as large and as high-ceilinged as this corridor.

But all of those places felt as though they had some purpose for their size. They were wide because they were intended to fit in a large number of people: petitioners and subjects, honoured guests, students. They had high ceilings in order that they not feel too cramped with the large number of people, or to impress upon the people filling up the room with the majesty of their host, or simply that the building should by its height appear grand and imposing. But none of that, as far as Pyrrha could see, applied here. This was a facility inhabited by, as far as they could tell, a single hermit-like scientist who rattled around this vast space with only his robots and his grimm experiments for company. What did he want with impressive spaces, what did he want with vast spaces?

“I’ve seen bigger,” Sunset murmured, “but not for so little apparent purpose.”

Pyrrha smiled inwardly.

“I … I’ve got an idea,” Jaune said.

“What is it?” Sunset asked.

“You’re not going to want to hear it,” Jaune said.

“Tell us anyway.”

“I think it needs to be big so that some really big grimm can move around here,” Jaune said.

Everyone fell silent at that, contemplating what kind of grimm would need a corridor this large, even one that was broken up by columns supporting the ceiling.

“You’re right; we didn’t want to hear that,” Sunset said.

“I told you,” Jaune said.

“We should keep going,” Ruby said. “There’s no sense just standing around here.”

Nobody could really argue with that, and so the four of them advanced down the corridor. It was sterile. Pointless. It wasn’t just the fact that there was nobody here — nobody human at least — to walk these halls besides Merlot, it was the fact that if he was going to build an enormous lab for himself and only for himself, he might have put a little more of his own personality into it. This corridor was soulless: sterile white hexagons upon the floor, grey metallic walls livened up only by a pipe or two running along them, a ceiling dimly lit and peppered with only a monitor here or there. It was as though, having retreated into this self-imposed exile, Merlot was playing the part of a successful businessman-scientist, building a vast corporate headquarters like the one he had had to abandon in Mountain Glenn in spite of the fact that he had no scientists or employees of any kind to fill it up.

The only thing of any note in the corridor at all was a terminal which, when Sunset approached and tapped her finger on it at seeming random, caused the enormous door at the end of the corridor to open, revealing … more corridor, this time with a bend.

“Greetings,” Doctor Merlot said cheerfully, “and welcome to Merlot Industries, where we’re building a better tomorrow … today.”

I stand by what I said about playing the businessman-scientist, Pyrrha thought.

“Did you actually say that to people you weren’t trying to kill?” Sunset asked. “No wonder nobody wanted to buy anything from you with a slogan that cheesy, even if you weren’t a murderous mad scientist.”

“Madness?” Merlot responded. “Sending children out to fight against the most perfect creature ever designed, that is madness. Sending just four of them to confront my security all by themselves is madness. If you want to call somebody mad, why don’t you take a look at dear old Ozpin in his emerald tower? This isn’t madness, this is scientific progress. This … this is the future.”

Sunset grunted. “So what’s the plan? Make enough of these freaks and then unleash them on the world?”

“Something like that,” Merlot admitted. “The new and superior race will need its breathing room, after all.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Pyrrha said.

“You cannot stop the march of progress,” Merlot declared. “And if you try, you’ll simply be crushed beneath my triumphant parade.”

“I wish his own grimm would hurry up and eat him,” Sunset muttered. “At least then, we wouldn’t have to listen to his voice. Plus, you know, the irony would be cool.”

“Students,” Professor Ozpin interrupted them. “In order for me to help you, I need not only your location but, ideally, detailed schematics of Merlot’s facility. If you come across any terminals, see if you can use them to establish a connection.”

“I’m afraid we’re none of us particularly good with computers,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Speak for yourself,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you were a computer expert amongst your many talents.”

Sunset grinned. “As you say, I’ve got many talents. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I know enough to give it a shot.”

In fact, as they rounded the corner of the corridor, they came to a laboratory space which, in keeping the corridor that they had just left, wasted a truly staggering amount of said space while keeping the actual workshops tight and confined, with robotic arms that looked set up for the assembly of androids hived off behind glass panels in tiny spaces; while accepting that robotic manufacturing arms didn’t need a lot of room, Pyrrha still found it odd, considering how much space was wasted elsewhere. There was a terminal beside the window looking into the closest of such workshops, but when Sunset approached and started bashing the screen, she succeeded only in starting the robotic arms spinning and whirring, throwing android parts this way and that and tossing them onto the ground like a child throwing a tantrum.

There was nothing else in the room except an elevator, the doors open, inviting them, as if Merlot himself wanted them to go that way.

Except there was no other way that they could go.

Nevertheless, it was with a degree of wary caution that they entered said elevator — another example of something that was far too large for people, suggesting that Merlot’s most common use of it was to move his swollen, oversized grimm up and down within the lab — and readied themselves for whatever might be waiting for them on the other side, for surely something would be.

For all that the laboratory appeared to be built into the side of a mountain, the display on the terminal in the far left corner of the lift indicated that they were currently on the highest floor. The only way was down.

“Someone watched way too many movies where the super villains had lairs when they were a kid,” Jaune said. He brightened. “On the other hand, this kind of makes us Maven Danger, right?”

“Or Lemon Peel,” Ruby suggested.

“That series went kinda downhill after a while, right?”

“Not when she was in it,” Ruby said.

“The point is,” Jaune said, “when you think about it like that … this is actually kind of cool.”

Sunset stared at him for a moment, before a smile cracked the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

She looked a little more relaxed as she hit the button to close the elevator doors and send them rumbling down.

Pyrrha braced herself. She had little doubt that there was a welcoming committee of some kind waiting for them on the next floor down.

A feeling of light and warmth washed over her, bathing her in brightness, washing away some of the tension that she was feeling. It was so relaxing that it took Pyrrha a moment to realise that it really was a light: it was Jaune’s semblance, as he placed a hand upon her shoulder and recharged her aura.

“I thought that you could use it,” he said, slightly apologetically. “You used your semblance quite a bit on the way over here.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted sheepishly. “But what about you? If you let your aura get too low—”

“I’ll be fine,” Jaune said. “I’ve got a lot to go around, right?”

Pyrrha smiled at him and reached up to squeeze his hand in hers. “Jaune, I want you to promise me something.”

He looked into her eyes, and she had to force herself to concentrate to keep from drowning in them. “Anything.”

“If it comes down to a choice between stimulating my aura or protecting yourself,” Pyrrha said, “I want you to choose yourself.”

Jaune was silent, as were Ruby and Sunset too; the only sound was the rumbling of the elevator as it bore them down.

“I don’t know if I can make that promise,” Jaune whispered.

“I’m being serious,” Pyrrha insisted.

“So am I,” Jaune replied.

Before Pyrrha could argue with him any more, the elevator came to a stop. There were a few moments during which, though the cab of the lift was completely still and absolutely silent, nevertheless, the doors remained shut. A few moments during which all four of the huntsmen prepared themselves for a fight with whatever was waiting on the other side of the doorway.

The door slid upwards, revealing a single enormous mutant beowolf and an entire platoon of white androids, all of whom seemed to have their guns trained on the elevator.

Pyrrha and Jaune had both started trying to bodily shield the other from the fire when a green shield erupted about ten feet away from the elevator door, encompassing some large storage containers stamped with the Merlot Industries logo.

Sunset had her arms flung up, both of them glowing with the same emerald light as her magical shield as the bullets slammed into it with a thunderous force. “Everybody run!”

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby all dashed out of the elevator, temporarily protected by Sunset’s shield, which was already starting to crack under the rounds that were impacting it by the hundred every second. As she took cover behind the crate, Pyrrha could see the blue and green tracer rounds like laser beams cracking through the air to strike the shield with furious force.

Sunset growled wordlessly as her shield exploded outwards, the energy converting into a shockwave propelling not only its own force but every bullet and one or two grenades backwards the way that they had come, knocking androids off their feet at the same time as their own bullets slammed into their armour and the grenades exploded amongst them. The beowolf howled as it was injured.

That was their signal to charge out and into battle.

It was not so easy as it had been. Yes, Pyrrha could have used her semblance as she had done to dismantle all of the androids in mere moments, but that would have used up all the aura that Jaune had just replenished, and if she tried to keep that up moving throughout what seemed for sure to be a vast facility, then one or both of them would run out of aura long before they reached the end.

That would not happen. It seemed she couldn’t make Jaune promise to conserve his aura even at the cost of leaving Pyrrha’s aura broken and Pyrrha herself vulnerable, but she could try and ensure that they didn’t get into situations where he felt he had to expend the last of his aura to recover some small scraps of hers. She would win this battle as part of a team, fighting alongside her friends with the weapons that she had trained in her whole life.

This wasn’t Cinder or any other Maiden they were up against, after all; she did not need to push herself to her limits and beyond here.

She could do this well enough without.

And they did, but it was harder work and far more gruelling than it would have been to take the more self-destructive path. The androids were not completely devoid of tactical sense; they did their best to set up killing zones and trap the huntsmen in crossfire from which they could not escape. The mutated beowolf lumbered after them wherever they went, sometimes going for Pyrrha, other times for Ruby, sometimes for Sunset, and sometimes for Jaune, and in every case forcing them to flee before it, because the last thing they could afford was to get into a slugging match with that monster while there were still androids around to shoot them in the back.

But it was difficult, always trying to keep one step ahead as they whittled down the numbers of the androids. Ruby scooped them up with her scythe, lightning rippled up and down Jaune’s sword, Sunset snapped her fingers and two androids were transformed into little wind-up toy robots that looked almost cute for a moment before the beowolf stepped on them and crushed them into pieces, Pyrrha did what she could to turn the guns of the androids away from any of her friends when they seemed in especial danger, but it was hard work. Hard, gruelling work, and even when they had, through painstaking hit and run, turned the last of Merlot’s gun-toting androids into so many parts and so much scrap metal, they still had the mutant beowolf to deal with, so that by the time it fell to the floor, dead and turning to ash as the green ooze spread out in a puddle across the floor, they were all four of them looking almost exhausted.

And that had only been their first engagement since entering the lab.

“Ah, making yourselves at home, I see,” Merlot said, sounding unutterably smug as his visage stared down at them from a giant screen mounted on the wall. A door just below his smiling — smirking — face began to rise, revealing another oversized and rather sterile corridor. “I want my guests to feel welcome, but my security team rarely feels the same way.”

Sunset fired a bolt of magic out of the palm of her hand that shattered the screen into fragments.

“That doesn’t actually hurt me, you know.”

“No, but it makes me feel a lot better,” Sunset replied.

“I understand your frustration, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said, “but the best thing you can do is not let Merlot’s childish taunting rile you. He’s trying to throw you off balance.”

“Rising above isn’t really my strong suit, Professor,” Sunset confessed.

“I’m not unaware of that fact, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said mildly.

They moved on, but soon found their path down the corridor blocked by a set of burst pipes which had completely ruptured, venting vast jets of steam out across their path which would burn aura they would desperately need in what seemed likely to prove a battle of attrition.

Pyrrha glanced at the opening to a ludicrously large air duct — she could understand building many things to be larger than they strictly needed to be, but who needed an air duct large enough for three or four people to walk abreast? — but before she could suggest that they use it to circumnavigate the burst pipes, the steam jets that had been blocking their path simply ceased, as if someone…

As if someone had turned something off to help us out.

It was hard to tell, with the air ducts themselves being so dark and shadowed, but she could have sworn that she saw somebody moving in there through the grate of the vent.

Who could…? Cinder.

“Cinder?” Pyrrha called out. “Cinder, is that you?”

“Cinder?” Sunset asked.

“Someone turned off that jet of steam,” Pyrrha said, “and I could have sworn that I saw someone moving in the vent just now.”

Ruby swung Crescent Rose, slicing through the vent cover, shattering it into pieces that fell to the floor with a clatter and a rattle. She was the first one into the vent that was large enough for Pyrrha to stand upright as she followed, with Jaune and Sunset close behind.

There was nothing. No sign of anyone.

“Cinder?” Sunset yelled. “Cinder, stop playing hide and seek; we’re not in the mood.”

Answer came there none.

Ruby led the way, rounding the corridor in the vent to find … nothing. It was, to all appearances, a dead end, with no way out except the one that was being blocked by Team SAPR.

Checking the other way revealed a similar cul-de-sac, except there was a large crank at the end which, Pyrrha guessed, controlled the pipes.

“Where did she go?” Ruby asked.

“I … perhaps she was never here,” Pyrrha murmured. “Perhaps I didn’t really see anyone, just a trick of the light.”

“Then who turned off the steam?” asked Jaune.

There was a moment of silence.

“If she’s here, if she was right here, why didn’t she show herself?” demanded Ruby.

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “But if it was her, then it seemed that she helped us out—”

“She could help us more by joining in the battle,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I suppose so,” Sunset said softly.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I wish that she was easier to understand.”

Sunset snorted. “You’re not the only one.”

They pressed on, and into another battle against another large force of Merlot’s ‘security’: this time, red androids pressing a whole pack of beowolves — some of them not only mutated but grafted on with various additional animalistic traits — into the fray against them. The snarling beowolves pressed close all around them, and the androids stomped through the creatures of grimm with heavy, clanking steps, not seeming to care who or what they hit with their giant polearms as they swung them wildly in great swiping strokes. Pyrrha did her best to keep them from hitting any of her friends — and to get them hitting the grimm at the same time — but there were so many androids and so many grimm, and already, she was starting to feel weary; even she herself was struck a couple of times, though never severely.

By the time that they had prevailed in that action, all of their limbs were coated in sweat, their brows were shining with it also, and they were panting to catch their breath.

They had been a day and half a night on this island without rest … or perhaps they just needed to train harder.

Or both. It could be both, I suppose.

“Here,” Sunset said, reaching into the pockets of her jacket and pulling out four thick chocolate bars held between her fingers. “You’ll forgive me not levitating them over to you; I want to save that for when we need it.”

Pyrrha, who was not going overboard with her semblance partly for the same reason — and for many other reasons — said nothing as she stepped closer to Sunset and took the chocolate out of her hands. Ruby and Jaune did likewise, and all four of them devoured the chocolate eagerly; even Pyrrha, who rarely ate such things as they were bad for her body in every sense and respect, was grateful for the short term rush of energy that accompanied them.

“Thanks,” Jaune said. “Got any more of those in there?”

Sunset pulled a face. “One,” she said. “So we’ll have to share it at the last resort.”

“Oh,” Jaune said, not managing to restrain his disappointment. “Thanks anyway.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I needed that. Although … next time, could you pack a bag of cookies instead, they might go fur—”

Sunset looked at her.

“Okay, I’ll be quiet now,” Ruby murmured. “Thank you!”

Sunset grinned. “I’ll try and remember, I promise. But we should keep moving now before more of Merlot’s security shows up.”

As they moved, as they jogged down these large but sterile, lifeless, and uninhabited — uninhabited at this point, for there was yet no sign of the grimm here or of Merlot’s androids past the ones that they had just destroyed — corridors, Pyrrha found herself thinking, in the absence of any enemies to fight or any conversation from her weary friends, about Cinder Fall.

Cinder who had saved their lives down in the tunnel, Cinder who had shut off the pipes for them, Cinder who had probably destroyed the squad of androids that they came upon next, shattered parts of red and white robots littering the floor.

Cinder, who might not be fighting alongside them but who was helping them nonetheless.

Cinder, whom Ruby would seek to kill if the battle brought them together.

Pyrrha glanced at Ruby, her red cape fluttering behind her as she moved.

Can you really go through with this, Ruby?

Pyrrha had told Ruby to do whatever she thought was right, and she would do likewise; that was … that had been a weak thing to say, in all honesty, a way of getting out of having to argue with Ruby or try to impose upon Ruby, a way of getting out of having to defend her position in such a way as to convince anyone else of her own rightness. It felt like a mistake now, not because she wished Ruby to do as she said, but … had Ruby considered what this would do? It would destroy her relationship with Sunset, and more importantly…

Ruby would have to live with what she had done. Even if she did it in secret, then she would know, and she would have to live with it.

Of course, if anyone could live with it, Ruby could; Ruby was the last person to argue that her own … her spiritual wellbeing, for want of a better word, was worth the risk of letting Cinder walk free.

Really, once you accepted Ruby’s premises: that the victory of the light justified any number of deeds that abandoned the light and that there was nothing a huntress should not be willing to do, give, or sacrifice for the greater good of mankind, then there were vanishingly few arguments in favour of letting Cinder live.

Nevertheless, nevertheless, in spite of all that and in spite of the fact that it would make their lives so much easier if Cinder were dead, Pyrrha hoped that Ruby did not go through with it — or that the opportunity to go through with it did not come their way.

Cinder was their enemy, true, but not today. Today, she was their ally, and even were she less than ally, even enemies could come together upontimes without fear of violence or treachery.

And allies who had and were fighting alongside them even more so.

And I am not convinced that our cause justifies all; rather, must we not justify our cause through our actions?

Her train of thought was derailed when they entered a laboratory. A laboratory, to call it that seemed far too kind and far too neat; it obscured the horror of what all their eyes beheld.

'Slaughterhouse' might have been a better word. The lab was full of faunus, the faunus stolen from Atlas, the faunus that had gotten Blake and Weiss and Rainbow Dash involved in combating Doctor Merlot’s activities in the north. The faunus had been brought here, to this island and this secret facility and this laboratory.

And here, they had died. Their bodies floated in tanks of blue-green ooze, lifeless, preserved like stuffed animals or frogs in jars, floating with their eyes closed as the ooze bubbled around them.

“My God,” Jaune murmured. “This … this is what you did with everyone you kidnapped.”

“More than that,” Sunset said. She sounded as though she didn’t want to believe what she was saying or, indeed, to say it, but that she could not stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “This is … this is how you got the wings and the fins and all the rest of it on your grimm, isn’t it?”

“And a gold star for the girl who’ll soon be the latest and greatest addition to my collection,” Merlot said, with a happiness that seemed especially inappropriate in the circumstances. “I told you that bonding my special serum to the grimm was an incomplete measure when it came to elevating them to perfection. But as a geneticist, I’ve always been fascinated by the faunus and their wonderful animal traits. So many humans are threatened by the superiority of the faunus over mankind, but I saw a marvellous opportunity. By selecting only the finest genetic specimens and exposing them to my serum, I’m able to bond their traits to this island’s natural ooze in such a way that passes their abilities on to the grimm during the bonding process. Soon, not even the shallow sea will protect Vale when I unleash an army of aquatic beowolves and ursai that can swim right up to Vale docks in a wave that will sweep aside the whole kingdom before them!”

“No, you won’t!” Ruby snarled. She began to swing her scythe wildly, striking the nearest tank to her again and again, scraping the glass with the blade of Crescent Rose. Her expression was wild and intense in equal measure, and her eyes burned with fury. “Because we won’t let you!” She hit the tank again and again. “We won’t let you do this!” The tank began to crack. “We won’t let you get away with this!” The cracks spread out across the glass. “We’re going to stop you hurting anybody else, you monster!”

The glass of the tank shattered into a million fragments as the ooze burst out across the floor, drenching Ruby — fortunately, it seemed that her aura protected her from suffering any consequences, and a moment later, an automated announcement declared that decontamination processes were in effect as sprinklers turned on to drench the lab and wash the goop away — as it pooled around the shattered tank across the floor, and the lifeless bodies fell down around Ruby. Thankfully, none of them struck her.

Ruby stood, the ooze being washed off her, her head bowed; Pyrrha couldn’t tell if she was looking at the bodies or if she had her eyes closed, but when she pulled her red hood, it was clear that she didn’t want them to see her face right now.

“Guys,” Ruby said. “We need to destroy all of these tanks. We can’t just leave them like this.”

None of the others said anything. One look exchanged between them said all that needed to be said.

Then they got to work. Merlot sent in androids to try and stop them, but their discovery of the horror being perpetrated here lent them a fresh energy derived from righteous anger, especially Ruby. She was like a fiend, a fiend trailing rose petals as she slashed her way between the tanks, felling the androids as she ran between them.

And when the battle was over, and all the tanks had been destroyed, she stood in the doorway and Pyrrha could see that her whole body was trembling.

Sunset put one arm around her and whispered something into her ear so softly that Pyrrha couldn’t hear it. Nor did she really wish to. It was for Ruby’s ears and hers alone.

“Pyrrha, Jaune,” Sunset said, gesturing with her head towards the door. “Come on.”

They left, standing just beyond the doorway as Sunset herself steered Ruby that way. Sunset raised one hand and muttered something like ‘I hope this works’ as her hand began to glow as red as fire. Sunset murmured words underneath her breath as the glow around her hands intensified. She clicked her fingers, and the entire laboratory burst into flame, burning in spite of the water descending on it from the sprinklers above, consuming the bodies of those poor faunus and all the evidence of what had been done to them.

Jaune looked as though he was about to ask why Sunset didn’t do that more often, but held his peace. For her own part, Pyrrha guessed it was a relatively costly spell, and difficult.

But it felt right to use it here, and she gave Sunset a small nod of approval.

“Hey, now—” Merlot began.

Sunset destroyed the screen. Again.

“I wish…” Ruby began, but trailed off.

“Ruby?” Pyrrha said.

“I wish I didn’t know how terrible people could be to one another,” Ruby said. “I wish it was only grimm that we were fighting.”

“I think we all wish that, Ruby,” Pyrrha murmured. “At least a little.”

They pressed on. What else could they do but to press on? They pressed on, and they soon came to a rocky ledge, overlooking a room that had not been built so much as it had been, by the looks of it, carved completely out of the rock of the mountain without bothering with the floor or ceiling or the walls that made up the rest of the facility: just a chamber carved into the stone, with an uneven surface for a floor and eight or ten more tanks filled with ooze being processed through them. Thankfully, there were no dead faunus in these tanks, but there were hordes of creeps pressed up against the tanks as though they desired the fluid within; they seemed to be humming to it, mewling for it, vast numbers of the grimm gathered around the tanks as though they were worshipping before religious altars.

SAPR defeated them, and destroyed all those tanks on general principle, but by the time they had done so — yes, they were only creeps, and even accepting that mutated creeps such as these were still just creeps at heart … but there were so many of them, and the toll of the constant battles since they had entered the facility was starting to take its toll on all of them — they had used up all their ammunition for all of their guns and almost all of their dust, which was to say that the only person who still had any dust remaining was Sunset, who hadn’t ignited her jacket yet.

“I’ll know the time is right for it when … when the time is right,” Sunset said.

“Please try not to destroy all of my possessions,” Merlot harrumphed, “although my androids will simply rebuild them if you do.”

Nobody replied. Nobody had the energy to respond to his cheap jibes and tired taunts any longer. Everyone was trying their best not to look into his hideous face. And besides, now that they knew just what he had done to the faunus, now that they knew exactly how monstrous he was, it seemed inappropriate to roll their eyes at his remarks as though he were nothing more than a boorish nuisance and a windbag who overestimated his own wit. He was much more than that, and much worse, and they could not ignore it, nor would they have wished to do so.

So they ignored him, or tried to ignore him as best as they could ignore someone whose voice they could not escape and whose face seemed to be watching them from every wall like the dictator in a dystopian fiction. They left the cavernous — in every sense — processing plant and soon — passing through a corridor that was empty, save for the remains of a few more androids that someone, most likely Cinder, had taken care of in advance — they found themselves in a room filled with computers.

It looked as though there had been android guards here, but once again, it appeared that Cinder had come or passed nearby this way before them and had taken the opportunity to ease the way in some small part for SAPR.

If Ruby strikes her down, then who will be the villain in all this? Pyrrha could not help but wonder, as her friends and teammates marvelled at the vast array of computers that took up the room; they were large, the units built into the wall with a dazzling array of lights blinking out at them, the machines themselves making slightly tired whirring noises; Pyrrha wondered how old these machines were and how long they had been working on … whatever it is that they were working on.

“Whoa,” Jaune said. “That’s a lot of computers.”

“Good work,” Ozpin said into their ears. “Can you find a terminal that you can gain access to?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, trotting over to a terminal set into the centre of the east wall. She tapped her hand upon it, and it responded instantly to her touch. “I’ve got one, Professor.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” Merlot demanded.

“Excellent,” Ozpin said, ignoring Merlot. “Can you proxy the signal over to me with your scroll?”

“Um,” Sunset hesitated. She looked at her teammates for help before seeming to realise that there was little help to be had from Pyrrha, Jaune, or Ruby in this regard. “Professor, I can crack into some systems and hide my digital footprint from an untrained eye, but that … what you’re asking for now is a little bit beyond my abilities, I’m afraid.”

Professor Ozpin sighed. “Yes, I did wonder if we might run into this difficulty. Thankfully, I think we should be able to manage. Over to you, Miss Sparkle.”

“Sunset? Sapphire, can you hear me?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Twilight? Is that you?”

“Yes. Professor Ozpin asked me to provide tech support.”

“But aren’t you still in Atlas?”

“No, we arrived back at Beacon yesterday. Anyway, you want to proxy the signal from Merlot’s servers to your scroll so that Professor Ozpin can receive it with a trace, correct?”

“You’re the scientist, you tell me.”

“Yes, that is what you want to do. So take out your scroll and follow my instructions exactly, can you do that?”

“Sure thing,” Sunset said as she pulled out her scroll.

“What’s going on?!” Merlot yelled. “Who are you?”

“I’m Twilight Sparkle of the Combined Atlesian Army-Airfleet,” Twilight said. “Now get ready, Doctor, because we’re about to put you on the map.”

“Oh no!” Merlot squawked. “How could I have been so stupid!”

“I find that very easy to believe,” Ozpin murmured dryly. “You never were as clever as you thought you were, Merlot.”

Merlot growled wordlessly, as though he were one of the grimm he had experimented. “We’ll see about that. It will be hard for you to upload anything once my grimm have torn you to shreds and devoured your remains!”

Thunderous footsteps began to thud outside the room, drawing closer with every step.

Pyrrha turned her back on Sunset and stepped into a guard. “Sunset, stay on the upload; we’ll hold them off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, because surviving one more encounter with the grimm would mean little on this island if they couldn’t get their location to Professor Ozpin in time. “We can manage. Although, Twilight, anything that you can do to hurry this along would be very much appreciated by all of us.”

“I’m doing my best, but I’m only receiving your signal,” Twilight. “Everything is in your hands.”

Pyrrha listened with half an ear as Twilight explained to Sunset what she needed to do, deploying an array of scientific terms that sounded like so much nonsense to Pyrrha’s untrained ears. She was not completely ignorant of mechanics — she knew enough that she could strip down and reassemble Miló at least — but when it came to computers, she was more lost than not. She used one, but she rather relied upon it to work, and she would never have been able to repair one that didn’t work in the way that she could have repaired, or tried to repair, her weapons. She suspected it was much the same with Ruby, and while it seemed that Sunset had some programming knowledge, it was, nonetheless, a good thing they had help from a genuine expert.

Then the first grimm entered the server room, and Pyrrha had no time to think about anything but fighting to survive and protect Sunset from the grimm and the androids that charged into the room and invariably seemed to make a beeline straight for her, intent on crushing her bones and stopping the uplink to Beacon before it was complete.

They came in waves. Four waves. Beowolves, ursai, creeps, androids; they would charge into the server room in a great wave, like a tsunami trying to sweep away all resistance to them in a single charge, then, once all of that wave was dead, then Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby would be granted a brief respite, and then the attack would begin again, in even greater strength, with Doctor Merlot shouting ever more frantically for his grimm and his robots to win, to crush and to destroy them, to stop the upload before it was completed.

They didn’t. They did not crush SAPR, they did not rip them apart, they did not destroy them. Rather, though it was not always an easy battle — and made all the harder by the need to protect Sunset where she was working, which restricted movement slightly — eventually, the last grimm and android fell, and Twilight’s voice proclaimed excitedly, “It worked! Professor Ozpin, the upload’s complete. Well done, Sunset!”

“Excellent work, all of you,” Professor Ozpin said. “Now, let me see … yes, this is everything I need. Students, we have the location of Merlot’s island, and reinforcements are en route to your location now. It’s over, Merlot; why don’t you surrender now and save us all the trouble of rooting you out?”

“Over, Oz? Pray, tell me what makes you think this is over?”

“Your secret’s out, soon your island will be crawling with huntsmen; your grimm and your androids can’t protect you now.”

Merlot chuckled. “Perhaps not. But there is one thing that I can still do … and that’s make sure your puny protégés don’t survive long enough to savour their victory!”

There was a rumbling beneath the earth, a rumbling that grew louder and louder, a rumbling that made the whole room shake and the four huntsmen with it, that made dust fall from the ceiling as the floor tiles began to crack.

“What is it?” Jaune asked.

“Nothing good,” Ruby hazarded a guess.

Pyrrha tried and failed to get an accurate bearing on where exactly the rumbling was coming from. “We should—”

A giant deathstalker, larger even than the one they had confronted during the initiation that seemed so long ago, erupted up from beneath the floor, throwing all four members of Team SAPR across the room as their footings dissolved along with the floor itself as the deathstalker pushed its way up into the chamber, shattering floor tiles and spraying dirt up into the air as it emerged into the server room. Its stinger glowed a bright fluorescent green, matching the markings on its bleached white armour. Another of Merlot’s mutants.

“Behold!” Merlot cried. “My greatest creation. Come closer, students, don’t be shy; you could learn a lot from this enhanced specimen. They won’t teach you about this back at Beacon. Nature couldn’t make a beast this deadly, so I did.”

The deathstalker clicked its pincers, bringing them together before slamming them down onto the ground hard enough to make the earth shake once again. Jaune was knocked onto his knees by the shockwave, and the glowing green stinger prepared to descend upon him.

“Jaune!” His name burst from Pyrrha’s mouth as she ran towards him, but the stinger was descending so fast, and she seemed to be moving so slowly.

Ruby trailed a garden’s worth of rose petals as she burst passed the stinger before it could completely descend, grabbing Jaune by the hood of his hoodie and dragging him behind her, wrenching him out of danger as the deathstalker flung its stinger into the ground so hard that it got stuck there.

Ruby and Pyrrha exchanged smiles as Ruby got Jaune out of danger and Pyrrha ran towards the danger.

Thank you, thought Pyrrha, and hoped that Ruby understood.

Any time. That, at least, was how Pyrrha interpreted Ruby’s response.

Pyrrha charged for the deathstalker while it was still trapped, wriggling and jerking like a fish on a line as it struggled to pull its own stinger free out of the dirt. Pyrrha wielded Miló in both hands as, with a leap that carried her forwards, she thrust the tip of her spear into the bulbous and brightly glowing stinger.

Green ooze leaked out all around the edges of the wound, and a shudder wracked through the deathstalker’s whole body. If it had had a voice, Pyrrha was sure that it would have been screaming.

The pain provided the impetus it needed to rip its tail free and Pyrrha — a little too slow drawing her spear out of the wound — with it as she was flung up by the sudden whip-like motion of the tail that tossed her all the way up to hit the ceiling of the server room above before she fell back down to the ground, landing on some half-ruined tiles with a thump.

The deathstalker turned cumbersomely towards her, clicking its pinchers as it rounded on her, seeming to glare at her with its unnaturally glowing green eyes.

Sunset charged with a yell, wielding Soteria in both hands as she hacked at a black leg that was taller than she was. Merlot was taunting them now, but Pyrrha couldn’t really make out the words — she wasn’t paying him much attention right now — as she focussed on Sunset pounding on the deathstalker’s leg with a blade as black as the limb she sought to hew off. There was something smug about the way that the deathstalker ignored her, as if it knew that Sunset and her sword could not do it harm and didn’t see the need to so much as do her the courtesy of a confrontation.

Jaune charged at it, his sword glowing golden as he concentrated his aura in the blade to lend it greater strength.

For Jaune, the deathstalker did turn, shifting its position a little and throwing out one pincer. Jaune’s strike was hasty and ill-aimed, made quickly as the grimm tried to bat him aside, and it only scored the white upper armour of the pincer before he was thrown backwards across the room and into the wall.

The deathstalker scuttled once again, until it was looming over Pyrrha.

“Catch!” Sunset shouted as she threw Pyrrha her rifle, with the bayonet extended all the way out into a kind of spear half again as long as Pyrrha’s Miló in spear form at least. Pyrrha caught the weapon, guiding it into her hands with her semblance, and held it raised upright in place as the stinger descended.

Straight onto the tip of Sunset’s bayonet.

The blow didn’t pop the stinger like she’s hoped, but it made more green ooze seep out of the bulbous weapon, and it made the deathstalker recoil, shaking its tail back and forth as though that would salve the pain.

“Did you know,” Merlot asked conversationally, “that certain porcupine faunus have the ability to fire spikes out of their hair. Isn’t that remarkable?”

He said this the very moment before the deathstalker fired a broad spread of white spikes that descended like a flight of arrows towards the ground and the huntsmen. Pyrrha ran, dodging out of the way of each white spike as it struck the ground behind and all around her. She glanced behind her to see Jaune taking cover behind his shield, Sunset raising a magical barrier, and Ruby running just as Pyrrha was, just much much faster. As the last quill fell, she reversed course and charged the deathstalker at full speed, her scythe slashing wildly as she scored its armour once, twice, three times before falling back.

The deathstalker began to turn her way.

Bursts of magic shot out of Sunset’s hand to slam, seemingly ineffectually, into the grimm’s armoured flank. “Pyrrha, help me get its attention,” Sunset shouted.

This would have been easier if I had any bullets left, Pyrrha thought as she charged for the deathstalker on the other side to Sunset, jabbing with Miló before twirling it, even as her whole body twirled to slash at one leg and barely mark it.

The deathstalker stopped, havering between which nuisance to round on first.

“Lancaster Spin, go for the stinger!” Sunset commanded.

A Lancaster spin? Does Jaune have enough aura for that?

“You got it,” Ruby said as she ran at Jaune, who barely separated his shield from his sword in time to catch Ruby on his shield as she touched it with both her legs, using it like a springboard as her legs began to glow with the light of Jaune’s stimulating semblance.

Ruby shot off like a rocket. She spun in mid-air, her scythe whirring around her.

She left a deep gash along the deathstalker’s stinger as she passed by it, but she did not sever it or destroy it. The grimm’s whole body trembled, it shook from side to side, and Pyrrha was absolutely and beyond all doubt certain that it would have been crying out in pain if it had the voice to do so.

Then it disappeared into the ground from whence it came, smashing the tiles beneath its weight and causing the earth above it to slough upwards as it moved, like a shark’s fin cutting through the water.

It was heading right to the point at which Ruby landed on the ground, and it didn’t give her time to catch her breath or bearings before it rose, pincers snapping. Ruby was fast enough to avoid the worst of it, dodging nimbly as ponderous claws tried to close around her, but she caught a glancing blow at the end which knocked her sideways.

Hordes of creeps rose up out of the hole in the ground the deathstalker had made, snapping and snarling as they came. Androids red and white stomped in through both entrances into the server room, directed by Merlot to back up his bleeding prize.

I have no choice, Pyrrha thought, as she used her semblance to rip the glaives out of the androids’ hands; yes, she was using it too much again, but in this situation, against these odds, how much choice did she really have?

She brought the glaives all slamming down into the deathstalker’s back, seeking out the gaps in its armour plates to drive the spears home. The grimm shuddered, clearly wounded, but it did not stop.

Nothing they did seemed to stop it. As Pyrrha was slashing and thrusting and kicking at the creeps come to its aid, the deathstalker simply trampled them down to try and get to her. Ruby grabbed the rotary cannon of a fallen white android that she had downed and emptied it onto the deathstalker, the rounds mostly bouncing off the armour but a few seeming to punch their way through with little expulsions of ooze along the way, but this didn’t stop it either. Jaune hacked off one of its legs, and its only response was to round on him with a blow that knocked him to the ground. Sunset threw herself over Jaune’s prone body, her back to the stinger as it descended, and as it descended, all the dust infused within the fabric of her jacket exploded in a monstrous inferno, and even that, though it clearly hurt the deathstalker, was not enough to stop it. Though it was bleeding, though its movements were becoming slower and more sluggish, though it was repeatedly getting its stinger stuck in the dirt and leaving itself vulnerable, it would not stop.

And in the meantime, their aura was running low. Ruby’s was the first to go, used up in so many bursts of speed that accomplished so much but left her so vulnerable in the end. Jaune stood guard over her, protecting her from any grimm or robot that ventured too far, but to be honest, if it hadn’t been for his monstrous aura reserves, he probably would have been out by now as well.

That left Pyrrha and Sunset trying to deal with the creeps coming out of the ground, trying to deal with the androids, and even when they had dealt with the creeps and the androids, still trying to deal with the deathstalker itself, with the beast which, though it might be wounded, did not bow. They were like ants trying to devour an elephant, and though such a thing might be possible with enough time, that time was something they did not possess. The stinger seemed to be its weakness — the stringer was its weakness — but it seemed as though however many times they injured it, it was never quite enough; it was bleeding so much by now, and yet, it refused to do so much as deflate.

And so Sunset and Pyrrha tried to keep it away from Jaune and Ruby, tried to keep doing damage, tried to keep nipping at it enough to wear it down … trying to keep weariness from making them slip up through sloppy tiredness.

That last was a struggle that Sunset was not quite equal to. Her breathing grew heavier, shallow gasping breaths leaping out of her mouth, her steps became stumbles, her limbs began to tremble, until she had practically fainted by the time the deathstalker grabbed her with one of its pincers, holding her fast, its stinger drawing back to strike her down.

And Pyrrha knew with absolute certainty that her aura would not be equal to the force about to descend upon it. And if her aura was not, then … then what chance had her armour or her bones?

Pyrrha leapt, a flying jump that carried the distance separating her from Sunset, that carried onto the giant deathstalker itself where she stood upon the bleached white pincer, balanced precariously, concentrating all of her remaining aura into her arms as she gripped Akoúo̱ in front of her in both hands.

The stinger slammed down into her shield with such force that it threatened to knock Pyrrha off the pincer and down onto the ground. Her arms shuddered; she felt her aura drop and wondered just how much she had left. Enough. Just enough. Just enough to take the stroke, then turn it aside before grabbing Soteria — she had discarded Miló for a moment as she leapt — out of Sunset’s unresisting hand and swinging it down upon the stinger with all the strength that remained to her.

Green goop spilled out to cover the black sword. For a moment, all else was stillness. Then the stinger began to shrivel like a popped balloon.

The deathstalker was motionless. Then it released Sunset from its grip; Pyrrha leapt off the quivering pincer as the grimm shuddered and writhed in silence, the only sound being the disturbance of the earth caused by its thrashing.

Sunset had hit the ground, but Pyrrha scooped her up in her arms and carried her away from the deathstalker as it settled onto its belly. It was clearly dead even before it started to dissolve.

Sunset, meanwhile, was unconscious, or nearly there; her eyes were half open, but they were listless and unresponsive. Pyrrha could feel her breath, but no other motion.

“And you thought I was overdoing it,” Pyrrha murmured. She bent down and kissed Sunset gently on the forehead. “It’s alright. Rest now. It’s all over; I’ve got you.”

“No!” Merlot yelled. “No, you … my precious? My one of a kind specimen? How? How could you?”

Pyrrha sighed. “Outstanding work, everyone.”

“It’s over, Merlot,” Ozpin said calmly. “You’ve got nothing left.”

Merlot growled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Oz! Your pathetic pupils might have won the battle, but I can still make sure that they don’t live to savour their victory! There is one last thing that I can do!”

Red lights began to blink in the room, and in the corridors on either side. Klaxons of alarm began to sound.

“Warning: self-destruct sequence initiated.”

“Team!” Ozpin shouted. “Merlot is going to blow up the lab!”

“We’d kinda noticed,” Jaune said.

“You need to get to the surface as quickly as you can. Move, now!”

“Yes, Professor,” Pyrrha said, even as she privately wondered if they could possibly get there in time.

Merlot’s image had disappeared from the monitors, but they could still hear his voice as he suddenly cried out, “You? No!”

The door slid open and brought Cinder face to face with Doctor Merlot.

“You?” he exclaimed. “No!”

“Doctor Merlot, I presume,” Cinder said, smirking as she strode forward, forcing the doctor to give ground before her through sheer force of her superior will. He cringed before her face like a petty thief before the constable. “Going somewhere?” she asked, casting a glance at the black case he was holding in his left hand. “To the submarine in the marina on the lowest level, perhaps? It beats going down with the ship, I suppose.” She’d suspected that a man like this would have an escape plan in case things went wrong — he’d escaped from Mountain Glenn, after all — and as it happened, she had been in need of an escape plan of her own, so she had made sure to scout for the route that Merlot planned to use so that she could use it herself when the time came.

All traces of Merlot’s smug, superior attitude had disappeared from his face. He was practically snivelling in fear. “I … I don’t—”

“Then you shouldn’t have meddled in affairs that were beyond your comprehension,” Cinder said flatly.

With one eye, she looked around. They stood in a vast control centre, dominated by screens showing almost every corridor and lab in the facility; all of those areas were now saturated in red from the warning lights, and the klaxons sounded the alert through the speakers as a sign of the imminent destruction of the facility.

Doubtless there was some means on the control panel that ran around the centre of the room, below the screens that took up the upper wall, to stop the detonation, but why would Cinder want to do a thing like that? She had no use for any of the research here, and she didn’t particularly want any of it falling into the hands of her enemies either. Destruction was the best thing for this place, provided that Merlot was destroyed along with it.

Merlot’s face twisted from a snivel to a snarl as he reached into his jacket with his free right hand and pulled out a silver hand cannon.

Cinder didn’t bother to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she blocked the first two shots and then twisted the gun out of his hand and emptied the remainder of the magazine into his chest. It knocked him onto his back, but she had to admit that she was a little impressed that his aura didn’t break under the attack. Mind you, if he had much more to give after that, then she was very much mistaken.

“I’ve never really liked guns,” Cinder said as she examined the empty pistol theatrically. She wasn’t lying. Something about them just didn’t appeal to her and never had. Even when she was a little girl, she had preferred the sword and the bow to the more modern weapons that had partially replaced them. “So uncivilised.”

You have risen in my estimations, Pyrrha, but, all the same, you should really be ashamed of that rifle of yours.

After all this time and all that I’ve become, I’m still a romantic. “And yet,” Cinder continued, “there is a certain brutal efficiency about them, isn’t there?” She threw his gun away.

Merlot looked like a cornered fox as he picked himself up off the floor and crouched down before her, looking up with his red eye gleaming. Cinder, who wasn’t intimidated in the least bit by a mere antiquated cybernetic augment, stared straight back at him.

She briefly allowed the Fall Maiden’s corona to blaze around her orb.

Merlot’s organic eye widened. “What … what are you people?”

“I am Nemesis,” Cinder declared. “I am one who dwells in Haruiro no Mori. I am your Kindly One. I am sent to punish the whole world for its arrogant transgressions, and I’ve decided to start with you.”

Merlot stared at her, as though he wasn’t sure how serious she was. Then he rose to his feet with a growl and took a swing at her with his cybernetic arm.

Cinder caught the blow one-handed, holding it in place with no apparent effort. Apparently, Merlot had once trained as a huntsman, but his skills had obviously grown very rusty over his years of isolation because his punch was telegraphed, basic, and all the strength seemed to be coming from the cybernetics. Cinder held him by the wrist, gripping it like a vice as Merlot struggled to break free, and gradually, she turned up the heat.

She enjoyed the look of awed amazement on Merlot’s face as her hand began to glow red hot, then white hot, burning up his aura and torturing the metal beneath. He became desperate, frantic in his efforts to break free, but Cinder, stronger than him even without the strength of half a maiden at her command, would not let him go, not until his arm shattered and Cinder flung him back across the room with a gust of air, shattering his aura and several of the screens behind him.

Cinder left him there, his aura broken, his wind stolen, his forehead bleeding; she left him there moaning in pain as she walked over the screens directly above the control panel. She could see all the red lights flashing as the countdown to the destruction of the facility drew nearer, and she could see…

She could see Team SAPR trying to get out in time.

Would they make it? Ruby was moving a little slower than usual, and Sunset … Sunset was out of it, being carried in Pyrrha’s arms like a babe, her head thrown back and her hair drooping down towards the floor.

“How long?” Cinder demanded.

“What?”

“How long until the destruction begins?” Cinder yelled at him.

Merlot looked up from the floor, comprehending at once. “Not long enough for them. They’ve come too far, and the destruct sequence has disabled the elevators.”

Cinder stared at the screens, both eyes widening. Soon SAPR would realise that for themselves. Were there stairs? There were the air ducts she had used to sneak around, but could they carry Sunset that way?

No, there was no way they would have time for that.

You can’t save me, Sunset; but I’ll save you.

Cinder rounded on Merlot. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

Cinder strode over to him, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him upright. “Stop the self-destruct sequence, and I won’t kill you.”

Merlot stared at her. “Why should I believe you?”

A glass sword appeared in Cinder’s free hand. “You don’t have a lot of options, Doctor.”

“Alright, alright,” Doctor Merlot said, raising his organic hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it right away, just please don’t kill me.”

Cinder released him, and took a step back.

Merlot let out a sigh of relief. “I only ever—”

“Just get on with it,” Cinder said, gesturing imperiously towards the control panel.

She had to admit that she didn’t know what he was doing as he scurried to the controls. He might have been doing something to betray her. But she doubted it. The man didn’t have the nerve with her standing right there.

And besides, if he did try anything, she was more than capable of responding in kind.

The klaxons ceased, the red lights all went off. Merlot turned to face her. “There, I—”

Cinder raised one hand to silence him. She looked at the monitors. Pyrrha’s face was very clearly visible to her, mouth open in an O of surprise.

Cinder smiled in spite of herself. “You didn’t think that I’d let you die in this place, did you, Pyrrha? You deserve better than to perish in this place, at this man’s hands.” She paused. “Get Sunset out of here. Take care of her.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “And then?”

“And then…” Cinder trailed off briefly. “And then we will see each other again, some day, soon or late.”

“And on that day, I will show you that you are mistaken regarding the extent of your power,” Pyrrha declared.

“Oho!” Cinder laughed. “Will you now?”

“A child with that power could not defeat me,” Pyrrha said, “and neither will you.”

Cinder looked down at the controls before her for a moment, smiling for all that she knew Pyrrha couldn’t see it. “Focus on Sunset for now, get her out. All the grimm have been released from containment, and there are still androids active in the facility. Take care.”

“Thank you for the warning,” Pyrrha said. “And … for everything else.”

“Thank you,” Cinder said, “and thank Sunset for me; this has been … this has been more than I dreamed it could be. And so, in token of my gratitude, allow me to give you a piece of advice. There’s a tempest coming, Pyrrha, and when it breaks, much will fall or be swept aside. Be ready for that moment when it comes; this isn’t over yet.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I suppose it is not.”

“Farewell, both of you,” Cinder said. “Bon chance.”

She turned to face Merlot again, smiling. “Now.” She clicked her fingers. “Come on in, boys; thank you for your patience.”

Merlot’s one organic eye widened. “Who are you—?”

He was answered by a growl, and a snarl, and a low snuffling sound as a trio of beowolves — ordinary, unenhanced, unaltered beowolves — walked in, their bodies hunched, their clawed paws low to the ground.

“While you were distracted by Team Sapphire, I was able to free a few of the grimm whom you hadn’t gotten around to corrupting yet,” Cinder said. “As you can imagine, they aren’t too happy with you.” She reached out and stroked the black fur of the nearest beowolf, scratching it behind the ears, for all the oily sensation that it left against her skin. “I’m actually impressed that they held back for so long. He’s all yours.”

“Wait!” Merlot cried. “Wait, you promised that you’d let me live.”

“Actually, I said I wouldn’t kill you,” Cinder reminded him. “And I won’t. They will.”

Merlot whimpered.

Cinder chuckled. “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, Doctor, and our little lives are rounded with a sleep.”

She turned away, strutting out of the room without a backwards glance, leaving the beowolves to it.

“No!” Merlot cried. “No, please, you can’t j-aaaargh!”

The high table sits only two, Doctor, and they do not share power.

Neither grimm nor androids tried to hinder Team SAPR on their way out of the facility.

Unfortunately, that was because they were all waiting for them outside. SAPR emerged from out of the lab, running through the ruined doors that Pyrrha had smashed open with her semblance, to find a great host of Merlot’s creations, mutated grimm and androids both, standing in a horseshoe formation around the doors, filling up the valley that led to the laboratory mouth. They growled, they roared, they rose up on their hind legs and beat their chests where they had chests — or hind legs, for that matter. Beowolves, ursai, creeps, androids red and white alike, they all surrounded Team SAPR in numbers greater than they had seen in one place since arriving at Merlot’s island.

And Sunset was out of it, and the others were so drained.

Somehow, I doubt that Cinder is going to save us now.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha put down Sunset on the ground and stepped over her protectively like a mother bear as she held her shield before her and her spear ready to strike.

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, shields out where they had one and weapons pointing warily out towards the grimm. As they had all run out of dust and ammunition, all that they could do was wait for the grimm to make the first move.

Dawn began to break over the horizon, the soft light of the new day creeping into the valley.

A large mutated ursa, green and covered with bony protrusions that marked it as well on the way to becoming a major, took a lumbering step forward.

There was a buzzing sound as the ground all around the ursa exploded in a shower of bullets that tore it to shreds, along with the beowolves unlucky enough to be closest to it.

“Woohoo!” a familiar voice whooped with glee as an Atlesian airship with a custom blue paint job soared out of the rising sun and over the valley, banking hard to the left as it circled back around towards them.

“Is that … Rainbow Dash?” Ruby asked.

“Saving your butts since first semester, you’d better believe it,” Rainbow crowed as she flew overhead again, loosing missiles from beneath her wings to eviscerate a group of mutated boarbatusks. The rear hatch at the back of her aircraft was down, and from it leapt a pair of figures to land gracefully on their feet hard beside SAPR. One of them was Ciel Soleil, carrying her massive anti-armour rifle, who greeted the Beacon huntsmen with a professional nod before turning to face the grimm, immediately blowing the head off an alpha beowolf. The other was—

“Penny?” Ruby exclaimed as Penny landed beside her.

“It’s so great to see you again! I missed you so much! I’ve got so much to tell you all, I can’t wait—”

The grimm roared.

“But perhaps I should,” Penny added.

“That’s … probably a good idea,” Ruby said.

“Team Sapphire, Rosepetal elements, this is the Atlesian warship Resolution. We are commencing close air support now; do not move from your current position.”

An Atlesian warship hoved into view moments after their message passed through the earpieces of the huntsmen, the long, arrow-like prow of the sky cruiser momentarily blocking out the sun as it rose above the rocks, cannons blazing and missiles streaking from their ports up and down the hull to rain down death upon the grimm and Merlot’s androids both alike. The cruiser was accompanied and escorted by several bullheads bearing the double-headed axe of Beacon academy, and as the main compartments of the bullheads opened more, Teams YRBN — including Blake — WWSR, and TTSS leapt down to join them.

“‘Sup, Rubes,” Yang said.

“Yang?” Ruby said. “Blake?”

“I was there when this started,” Blake said. “I didn’t want to miss the ending.”

“And it’s never boring when you’re around,” Yang said. “So what’s going on?”

“The experiments and stuff, Merlot,” Ruby said. “That’s all over. It’s done … these guys just don’t realise it yet.”

“So we just have to beat it into them?”

“Something like that.”

“Cool,” Yang said. She grinned, and pounded her fists together. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s kick some ass.”

Needless to say, the grimm didn’t stand a chance.

In the library of Portchester Manor, Cinder knelt on one knee.

The Seer hovered above her head, its tentacles raised, not to strike, but in such a manner that they could strike, at any point, if the mood should strike Salem first.

Her mistress’ face was framed within the glass-like sphere, staring down at her with those eyes of blood and darkness.

“So,” Salem said, her voice issuing out of the Seer, “you disobeyed your instructions.”

“No, Mistress,” Cinder said, keeping her voice calm.

There was a moment of silence. “'No'?” Salem asked. “That is not how Tempest tells it, is it, Tempest?”

Tempest was not standing this time; she was knelt at Cinder’s side. That was already too much for Cinder’s liking, but at least she wasn’t standing on this occasion.

“Indeed, Mistress,” Tempest murmured. “I instructed—”

“Mistress, after I so foolishly disappointed you, you instructed me to work with Tempest Shadow, not for Tempest Shadow. If you intended to subordinate me wholly to … her, then you should have been clearer in your instructions.”

“So this is my fault?” Salem asked, her voice growing talons.

“Of course not, Mistress,” Cinder said. “I don’t see that this is anyone’s fault at all.”

“I gave you explicit instructions—”

“Which we have not yet established you have the authority to give me,” Cinder snapped.

“You agreed to carry out my instructions!” Tempest squawked indignantly.

“Enough,” Salem said, softly, yet sharply enough to silence the both of them. “Both of you will explain to me exactly what happened.”

Cinder glanced at Tempest. “After you.”

Tempest was silent for a second. “I … following your instructions to investigate the disappearances of the grimm; I instructed Emerald to undertake the investigation. Cinder decided to disobey me and undertake the task herself.”

“Because your instructions were idiotic and would have served only to get Emerald killed,” Cinder said. “You sought to weaken me by depriving me of a loyal and valuable servant.”

“Is that true, Tempest?” Salem asked.

Tempest said nothing.

“Tempest?” Salem repeated. “I await your answer.”

“That was … not my intent,” Tempest murmured.

“Then why did you propose to send Emerald alone?” Cinder demanded.

Tempest licked her lips. “The preservation of our forces for our main effort, here in Vale,” she said. “Is not our priority to obtain the Relic?”

“Of course,” Salem said. “But what was the point in sending someone who might die without accomplishing anything?”

“So Cinder was right to go instead?” Tempest asked.

“I did not say that,” Salem replied softly. “But the next time I give you instructions, I expect them to be carried out efficiently; I will not tolerate my desires to be put at risk by your ambition, any more than by Cinder’s vanity. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear, Mistress,” Tempest muttered.

“Good,” Salem said. “Then lower your aura.”

“Mistress—”

“Lower your aura,” Salem said.

Tempest closed her eyes, and an opal light rippled across her body.

One of the Seer’s tentacles lashed out, driving its bony tip into Tempest’s shoulder, making her cry out in pain. The tentacle twisted, digging this way and that, making Tempest wince in agony, falling to both knees, her fists slamming onto the ground.

“You’ve done very well up until now,” Salem said. “Don’t disappoint me again.”

The Seer’s tentacle came away with blood upon the tip, but Tempest affected not to notice. “Never, Majesty.”

“Now, Cinder,” Salem went on. “Explain to me why you felt it was necessary to risk yourself and your precious burden by investigating the interference with the grimm alone?”

Cinder said nothing for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I judged that my precious burden made me the most suitable to carry out this task. Events proved me right in that regard. No one who did not have the Fall Maiden’s power could have possibly withstood the grimm under Mountain Glenn.”

“I see,” Salem said, her tone even and hard to read. “And in the course of your investigation, you joined forces with Ozpin’s agents?”

“I did,” Cinder said, keeping her own voice even in turn. “It seemed preferable to opposing one another or tripping over one another in the pursuit of similar goals.”

“You didn’t think that dealing with them might be more important than dealing with the grimm problem?” Tempest asked, grunting through the pain.

“I thought that Ozpin’s agents were of no consequence?” Cinder responded.

“I’m beginning to suspect that you’re being deliberately insolent, Cinder,” Salem said.

Cinder inhaled deeply through her nostrils. “Mistress, you spurned me but a brief while ago. You demeaned me, you humiliated me, cast scorn upon my pride and made mock of my native dignity, you lowered me to the level of this … this.” She gestured towards Tempest. “If you expect, after that, that I should bend low and, in a bondsman’s key, ask Tempest Shadow how I might serve her best, then you have forgotten who I am. Tempest is fortunate that disobedience is all that she has suffered; the last woman who tried to give me commands burnt alive.”

That, at least, is what I would like to say.

“I … did what I thought was best,” Cinder said. “I meant no insolence to you by it. My only thought was how I might best serve your interests. I was confident that—”

“You have been confident before,” Tempest pointed out.

“Well, this time, my confidence was proven right,” Cinder snapped.

“So it would seem,” Salem said. “However, I am not convinced that your actions were motivated by nothing more than the selfless desire to serve me best.”

“What other motive could I have, Mistress?” Cinder asked.

Salem’s eyes narrowed, and pain spasmed up and down Cinder’s back, pain making her convulse, pain making her collapse onto her side on the floor, pain like a thousand needles stabbing into her spine.

“I should rack you with cramps,” Salem said. “Do you think I do not see through you? Do you think I do not understand what you are? I made you. I have given you everything; do you think I do not understand why you act as you do? You have both behaved selfishly and shortsightedly, with more regard for your wants and desires than for my goals. Tempest, in this instance, I am particularly disappointed in you, since you had seemed to be more … reliable in that regard.”

“My most humble apologies, Mistress.”

“But you, Cinder … it must be admitted that you got the job done. This impudent scientist is dead, and his experiments with him. However, the means by which you accomplished this: allying with Ozpin’s agents, revealing your powers to them … some would have killed you once they found out what you were.”

“Pyrrha Nikos is too noble for that,” Cinder said. And Sunset is much too kind. She did not mention that Ruby Rose had wanted to do exactly as Salem feared.

“So it would seem, since you are still alive,” Salem said. “They are weak reeds that Ozpin relies on.”

Compassion is weakness? Yes, it was, of course it was; it doomed one to be taken advantage of by the unscrupulous, the wicked; her father had been compassionate, and look what happened to him.

But, at the same time, there was something … something about it that was … beautiful.

“You performed well, Cinder,” Salem said, and the Seer reached out a tentacle to stroke her cheek softly, in a manner that was almost tender. “This time. And you are correct, I set you to work with Tempest Shadow, not for her. But, in future, I will not look so kindly upon future displays of recklessness. You carry a great gift, a gift upon which hinges all of my plans for Beacon. You must, you must, look after it.

“After all, you are indispensable to me.”

The night was dark, and it seemed darker still in Professor Ozpin’s office as Pyrrha and Sunset stood before the headmaster’s desk, if that was truly possible. Above their heads, the gears of the great clock ground away, grumbling and clanking as the enormous cogs ground against one another; the windows were opaque and emerald now, casting the large tower room in a soft and slightly forbidding green glow. There was little light even from the headmaster’s own desk; Professor Ozpin was half invisible to them, even as he leaned forward with his hands clasped together in front of him, so that they obscured the lower half of his face.

“As glad as I am to see you safely returned and your mission complete,” Professor Ozpin said, “I hope you understand why I say that I wish you had not decided to make a temporary alliance with Miss Fall, especially once she turned out to be … the Fall Maiden.”

“I understand, Professor,” Sunset said, although her tone was not particularly understanding — to Pyrrha’s ears, at least — as she said it, “but if I’d brought any of my team home in a body bag, then I think your disapproval might be a little more muted. We only made it out of Mountain Glenn in one piece because of her. Not to mention Merlot’s headquarters.”

“That is as much your interpretation, Miss Shimmer, as it is mine that a confrontation with Miss Fall there and then might have yielded results most beneficial,” Professor Ozpin replied. “As things stand, you have allowed an enemy far more dangerous than Merlot go free to continue to work mischief. And I cannot help but wonder how many will suffer because of it.”

Sunset scowled. “I made the best decision that I could for the team at the time that I made it,” she said firmly. “In the same circumstances, I’d make the same decision again.”

Professor Ozpin looked at her. The light glinted off his glasses. “Best for the team?”

“My highest priority, Professor,” Sunset said.

“And that is all there is to it?” Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset shuffled uncomfortably in place. She had her hands clasped behind her back, but her shoulders wriggled up and down a little. “I … I feel as though I almost got through to her, Professor. I’m not sure, but I think she might—”

“Might what?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Turn? Renounce her past misdeeds? Step into the light?”

Sunset pursed her lips together. “Something like that.”

“An admirable sentiment, in some ways, but rather naïve, I fear,” Professor Ozpin said. “Miss Fall has made her choice, and all that we can do now is … seek to limit the damage that she may do.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said, but if she actually believed that, then Pyrrha would be surprised. “Is there anything else?”

“No, Miss Shimmer, that will be all,” Professor Ozpin said. He paused. “I am glad to see that you all made it back in one piece.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha said, “if I may?”

“Something on your mind, Miss Nikos?”

Pyrrha looked down at her hands, clasped together in front of her. “The power of the Maidens … it’s incredible.”

Even in the dim light, Professor Ozpin looked very weary. “It is indeed, Miss Nikos, a great and terrible power to witness, and even more so, I would imagine, to possess.”

“But they were defeated, in the past?” Pyrrha asked. “Our forerunners, our predecessors in this organisation, they brought them down in the days of old.”

“Yes, Miss Nikos, they did,” Professor Ozpin said. “They brought down those called the Red Queens and enabled the powers of the Maidens to be hidden away, kept safe and secret, for generations to come.”

“Then how did the Fall Maiden come to die?” Pyrrha asked, before she could stop herself.

Professor Ozpin did not reply. He looked down, the light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes from her view.

“Mistakes were made,” he said softly. “You will forgive me if I do not wish to share details.”

“Of course, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “I’m sorry to pry, I apologise for the intrusion. I simply … I’m sorry.”

“Quite understandable, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Is that all?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “If the Maidens could be beaten before, then they can be beaten again. I admit that Cinder’s power was frightening to behold, but we are not less valiant than our predecessors were, or at least I hope that it is so, and we are, again, I hope and I believe, no less skilled. Again, I say that what was accomplished once can be so again. Please, Professor, rely on us.”

Professor Ozpin looked at her. “You are much changed, Miss Nikos.”

“For the better, I hope, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “I would rather find reason to hope than to wallow in hopeless despair.”

Professor Ozpin smiled for a moment, but then his mouth drooped downwards, as though his words displeased her. “Indeed, Miss Nikos,” he said, despite his look. “As you say, there is cause for hope.” He paused. “Not least in the example that you both set, having faced despair and overcome it. Though I may not have always approved of the methods that you used to do so, nevertheless, I am glad, very glad, to see you both renewed. Especially since…”

“Professor?” Sunset asked.

“I am afraid that I must ask more of you,” Professor Ozpin said. “The hour grows late, so we will not discuss it further, but I ask that you return here, tomorrow, at … shall we say two o’clock? There are some important matters to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “But—”

“Tomorrow,” Professor Ozpin told her. “Get some rest, Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer. It is the least that you deserve after such exertions. Tomorrow … tomorrow will come soon enough.”

They turned to go, walking into the elevator and turning to face the door.

As it closed, but before it did so, Pyrrha got one last glimpse of Professor Ozpin, his face grave, turning away from them and getting up to walk to the great windows from which he could see out across all of Vale.

All of Vale that was his charge to defend.

“What do you think he wishes to discuss tomorrow?” Pyrrha asked as the elevator began its descent.

“I have no idea,” Sunset admitted. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Do you believe what you said?” asked Sunset. “That we can beat Cinder, in spite of her powers?”

“I would not have said it if I did not believe it so,” Pyrrha said. “It has been done before.”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “Yes, it has. I…”

“Sunset?”

“I would rather we did not have to fight her.”

Pyrrha said nothing. What would be the point of saying anything; Sunset knew well enough how unlikely that was, what good in reiterating the point?

“Professor Ozpin was right, you know,” Sunset said. “You have gotten your confidence back.”

“And you have come some distance from … where you were after the Breach,” Pyrrha pointed out. “These weeks have been good for both of us.”

“Running away with Trixie and Starlight and seeking out Cinder, respectively, have been good for both of us,” Sunset replied, a slight smile upon her face. “We’re going to be alright, aren’t we? Whatever Professor Ozpin has to say to us tomorrow, whatever comes next, we’ll be alright.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “Indeed. It may be, as Cinder said, that there is a storm coming, and it may be a fierce one, but whatever the obstacles arrayed against us, we will overcome them.

“As we always have.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The biggest change that sticks out to me is the scene between Salem and Cinder at the end; whereas in the original, Salem punished Cinder for failing to eliminate Team SAPR, here Cinder manages to palm off at least some of the blame for the situation onto Tempest and her orders, and ends up gaining some ground back on her rival in the process.

With this arc concluded I'll be taking a couple of weeks break before resuming on Monday 6th March.

Sienna Khan (Rewritten)

Sienna Khan

Gilda knelt upon the ground, her fingertips brushing against the grass beneath her as she turned her face downwards.

Thus bowed in supplication, she could not see the approach of the High Leader and her guards, but she could hear the heavy tread of those same guards as they approached the place where Gilda, and a few other chosen warriors of what remained of the White Fang’s Vale Chapter, waited to receive her.

Gilda could hardly believe it. Sienna Khan had come here? When Strongheart had run on ahead with the news that the High Leader had not just sent a new commander to take Adam’s place but had actually come herself Gilda, had boggled in disbelief. The High Leader had been a great warrior in younger days, but she rarely stirred from Menagerie these days; she commanded, she set the strategy of all the chapters across Remnant, but she no longer took the field.

But she had decided to come here, to Vale. That she had felt the need was probably not a ringing endorsement of the chapter, but Gilda couldn’t deny that they could probably use the leadership that only the High Leader could provide. Mountain Glenn had left them broken, they were few in number, and even fewer of that number were any good at all; of the recruits that they had raised prior to the Mountain Glenn operation, many of them had deserted — 'deserted' might be a bit of a harsh word; they had drifted home, but Gilda could hardly blame them for that. They had joined up because they had been promised victory, the fall of Vale and the rise of the faunus; instead, they had seen their comrades die at the hands of the grimm, and they had only survived through dumb luck.

It was at times like this that you found out who had the stomach for a hard fight, a drawn-out battle with no guarantee and little chance of victory at the end of it.

There were few enough of those left in the Vale Chapter, and even amongst them, morale was in the gutter.

Nobody knew what to do to turn this situation around, Gilda least of all. Sienna Khan could not have known about all of these problems when she had decided to come to Vale personally, but it was good that she had come.

Even if it was not good for Gilda personally, it was good for the White Fang, and that was more important.

Sienna Khan had requested — via Strongheart, sent back ahead with her initial orders — that the entire chapter, what was left of it, be mustered at Adam’s grave. Gilda had obliged, but she had taken Strongheart and a few others on just a little way ahead to meet the High Leader on the way.

And here she was, kneeling as she heard the thump of booted feet along the ground as Sienna and her guards approached.

The footsteps halted and fell silent. Sienna Khan’s own tread was light, and now that her guards had stopped, Gilda barely heard a thing as she saw the tips of the black boots appear in her field of vision.

“Lower your aura, Gilda Swiftwing.” The High Leader’s voice was cold.

Gilda didn’t hesitate, though she could guess what might come next. Discipline in the White Fang, such as it was, was maintained by means of harsh punishment, and failure was not indulged.

Gilda took a deep breath. “Yes, High Leader,” she said, and lowered her aura, dimming her inner light to the point where it was more a flickering candle than a roaring flame.

A flickering candle that offered no protection to the chain that coiled like a serpent around her neck and dragged her face-first onto and across the ground, making her squirm and wriggle like a fish on a hook as the metal links began to bite into her throat.

“How is it that you are still alive?” Sienna demanded, her voice still lacking any trace of warmth.

“High L—” Strongheart began.

“Silence!” Sienna snapped. “I was not addressing you.”

It was hard to speak with the chain crushing her windpipe, but Gilda tried to choke out, “A…Ada…Adam.”

“You have the gall to blame a martyr to our cause?” Sienna snapped. “To cast aspersions on a hero who, having given his life, cannot defend himself against your slanders? Is this how you excuse your incompetence?”

Gilda didn’t reply. She probably couldn’t have replied even if she’d wanted to. She squirmed and writhed like a worm, tugging ineffectually at the chain as the strength ebbed from her arms. She couldn’t see anything because of the spots that were rapidly proliferating in front of her eyes, blotting on the sky above her. Her lungs heaved in futile search for breath, her wings beat helplessly on the ground.

And then she was released from the chain. With one hand, Gilda clutched her raw neck as she lay, coughing and gagging and gasping for air, upon the grass now pressed flat beneath her thrashings.

As the spots began to clear from before her vision, she could see the High Leader glaring down at her.

“Have you anything to say in mitigation for your actions?” she demanded. “Why are you still alive?”

Gilda glanced away. Strongheart and the others were staring at Sienna Khan with no small degree of fear upon their faces. The High Leader’s own bodyguards stood impassive, their faces concealed beneath their masks and hoods.

Slowly, and somewhat unsteadily, Gilda picked herself up to her knees once again. “I survived because … because my captain ordered me to live on.”

Sienna was silent for a moment. “Then I suppose I must commend your obedience, in this case at least. It is a pity that you did not display that same loyalty to Adam always.”

Gilda closed her eyes. “Yes, High Leader.” Though my true failure was not being able to turn him away from the path that led to his end and our ruin.

“Adam was a great man, and a true hero to our cause,” Sienna declared. “His heart now resides in Menagerie, alongside the other relics of the martyrs who, like him, made the ultimate sacrifice in our struggle for freedom. Had you supported him instead of questioning him, undermining him, and by stealth declining to obey his orders, he might have made a better end.”

'Undermined'? How much did you tell them, Strongheart? What did you say? Gilda glanced at Strongheart, but alongside her panic, the buffalo faunus seemed confused.

“And yet,” Sienna continued, “I am not without mercy. You have served our cause with valour in the past and may yet do so again, and with your valour, you may once again prove that you are worthy of a place of honour in the White Fang.” She held out one striped hand. “Do you still hold the White Fang in your heart and yearn to set our people free from the oppression that the humans have visited upon us?”

“I do,” Gilda whispered.

“Then fight for our race and earn your redemption for your past failures.”

Gilda leaned forward and kissed Sienna’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, High Leader.”

“Rise,” Sienna said, and Gilda and all the rest rose from their knees.

The leader of the White Fang was tall enough, if dwarfed in size by the spear-wielding guards who ranged around her in two columns, but she had a presence about her that far outstretched her height. As she stood, surrounded by faunus taller than she was, nevertheless, she seemed the largest person present and none felt as though they were looking down upon her.

“Pitch our camp here for now,” Sienna commanded two of her guards, who hastened to obey her, before she returned her attention to Gilda. “Is … is Adam buried near here?”

Gilda bowed her head. “He is.”

“And are your forces assembled there?”

“What remains of them,” Gilda said.

Sienna nodded gravely. “Take me to them.”

Gilda bowed her head a second time. “Follow me,” she said as she turned to lead the way. Strongheart fell in beside her as she began to walk, and she heard the tramp of Sienna’s guards following behind.

“I didn’t say things like that about you,” Strongheart murmured. “I told her the truth, but … I didn’t say that you—”

“That was the truth,” Gilda said. “I didn’t have Adam’s back up to the hilt the way I should have.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Strongheart whispered. “I get that now. We didn’t lose because you didn’t like Cinder.”

“I know,” Gilda said softly.

“Then why doesn’t the High Leader see that? I tried to tell her.”

“It’s not our place to question the High Leader,” Gilda hissed out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll be fine.”

Strongheart frowned. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Gilda couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “We’re in the White Fang, kid; none of us are here because we’ve gotten what we deserved.”

They brought Sienna Khan and all her train to the hillside beneath which they had laid Adam to rest. Neither coyotes nor foxes nor the Atlesian military had disturbed the place, which lay as it had done when they had interred him here. His sword, the only marker of the place, still lay thrust into the ground, the red blade gleaming in the sunlight.

It was at the sword that Sienna Khan stared, as she stood at the bottom of the hillside. She didn’t look towards the assembled faunus of the Vale chapter, gathered in untidy ranks awaiting her. Her attention was wholly fixed upon the sword, and on the dead hero who lay beneath.

“You have carved not a line, nor raised a stone,” she murmured. “But left him alone with his glory … and his blade. Considering the manner of his life … I cannot say that it is inappropriate. You have honoured him as best you can, but more than that, you honoured him as befits the man he was: a warrior first and foremost, one who always put the needs of our people before his pride.”

Her guards and attendants remained behind, joining Gilda and Strongheart and the survivors of the Vale chapter as the High Leader ascended the hill alone, climbing to the top as the breeze tugged at the hem of her red cape. She climbed until she had reached the grave, and Gilda watched as she reached out and placed one hand upon the tip of the sword. There she stood a moment, her head bowed, and as the sunlight fell full upon her, it cast her in silhouette beside the sword.

It almost seemed as though she was talking to Adam, communing with his indomitable spirit.

Only after she had lingered thus awhile did Sienna Khan turn to face the diminished, ragged, and bedraggled force gathered below her. They were a modest group, all that remained of a hidden army that had once ranged all across Vale and thrown a kingdom into terror with their presence. Now, the meanest Atlesian corporal’s guard could have rounded them all up, if the Atlesians had known that they were here. Once, not so long ago, they had dreamed of overthrowing Vale itself and throwing one quarter of Remnant into chaos and ruin; now, they were themselves in ruins, and their courage burned so low that a stiff wind could have made cowards of them all. Gilda could feel it all around her, the malaise that it had been beyond her powers to cure, the loss of belief in themselves, in victory, the loss of faith that she could not restore. As they stood before the High Leader, their faces devoid of masks, showing their true selves before her, Gilda had to believe that Sienna Khan could perceive it as well as she could.

“Adam is dead,” she declared, “and in him has perished a hero of our glorious cause. A cause that is built on sacrifices and stained with the tears that have been shed over them: Ares Claudandus, dying cold and hungry in a dungeon cell; Antoninus, put up against a wall and shot; Boukman, charging into the teeth of the oppressors’ fire with a warcry on his lips … and now, Adam Taurus, cut down by she whom he … trusted most of all. Now, he has gone to join the revered martyrs of our cause, and in their noble company, he shall not feel ashamed. He takes his place in the hall of heroes, feasting and drinking with our god, and he has left it to we who remain to continue the great task to which he dedicated and, ultimately, gave his life, his soul, and everything he had besides.

“His grave is scarcely marked,” she said, “and it is well that it was not dedicated, for how could we, the living, dedicate anything to the man who dedicated himself with such valour to our benefit? Rather, it is for us to dedicate ourselves to the great struggle that remains before us, the struggle that will continue until the humans accept us without condition for who we are and what we are, and all the prejudice and suffering that we endure has finally been driven entirely from the world.

“All that we ask, all that we have ever asked, is for freedom! Freedom from hate, freedom from judgement, freedom from want, freedom from hopelessness! We long for it, we yearn for it, and I see in your eyes that the same craving for freedom that burns like an inferno within my breast burns within all of you.”

And as she spoke, Gilda felt the fire within her begin to burn a little brighter than before; her back straightened, and she was not alone in that. Many of the faunus around her seemed a little braver now, and more determined.

“Adam wanted freedom,” Sienna said, her voice becoming a little quieter for a moment. “It was the only thing he wanted: for all of you, for all of us, to be free, to live in freedom and enjoy all the benefits that the humans who oppress us take for granted every day. He wanted us to be free to live our lives, to raise our children, to build homes and new societies, but he recognised that freedom cannot be given by benevolent allies or well-intentioned human do-gooders, for like the lien that the Schnee Dust Company pays with one hand and then takes with the other, what is given can always be taken away. True freedom, the freedom we all long for, can only ever be claimed at the point of the sword.

“The sword that we must now, all of us, take up in Adam’s absence. Adam Taurus is dead, but he lives on in all of our hearts, so long as we remain true to the cause he loved so dearly. In the name of Adam Taurus, who will fight with me until the fight is won?”

“I will!” Gilda cried, and so did many others too; the shout did not spring unanimously from the lips of all the gathered faunus, but enough of them took up the defiant cry and loud enough to give Gilda a little hope for the future of the Vale chapter.

“Who will take up the sword?” Sienna asked. “Who will take up the tattered flag?”

“I will!” More faunus were shouting now; only a few had yet to be swept away by the High Leader’s passion.

“Who will show Atlas, and Vale, and all these proud and arrogant men that the White Fang is not defeated?”

“I WILL!” The roar from every gathered faunus throat struck the clouds up above them and scattered birds out of the nearby trees.

Sienna smiled, her expression both beatific and fierce mingled in a single face, as she descended from the hilltop with her arms held out on either side of her, as though she would embrace them all.

“Then together,” she said, “we will avenge Adam, and all the rest who had fallen on this path to freedom. Be of good heart; soon, our struggle shall begin anew. But not tonight. Tonight, we feast!”

She raised her arms above her head. “I have brought food and drink to salve your weary spirits: suckling pig ripe for the spit and the finest wine from the vineyards of Menagerie. Tonight, we will drink deep and down libations to the memory of all we’ve lost. Tonight … tonight, we drink down sorrow.”

She smiled and motioned with a flick of her hand for them to follow.

“Gilda,” she whispered. “Attend me.”

Gilda bowed her head. “Yes, High Leader.”

Perhaps Sienna wanted nothing more than a chance to berate her or beat her some more, but if that were so, she would submit to it. It was nothing more than she deserved.

And so, while Sienna walked a little beyond the main body of the White Fang — even her guards fell back to give her space — Gilda stayed close behind her, dogging her footsteps as she led the way back to the place where Gilda and her party had met with her not long ago. Her attendants, those whom she had left behind her to pitch her tent and set the camp, had already erected several tents, and as her guards spread out to stand sentry around the camp, Sienna headed without a word to the largest tent in the centre of it.

Gilda followed, ducking inside just behind the High Leader.

Rank has its privileges, Gilda thought as she knelt down within the tent, which was larger than some of the rooms — most of the rooms — in the house that she’d grown up in.

The furniture was sparse and austere, but it was a tent after all, and even that wasn’t much to separate it from Gilda’s childhood home. A low table, low enough that it was at the right height for a kneeling person, sat in the centre of the tent with a map of Vale spread out across it and four candles burning upon the table corners. A brazier full of coals burned beside it, casting the tent in an orange glow as wisps of smoke rose out of the metal can. An open cask of deep red wine sat in one corner of the tent, while a couple of silver goblets stood close by.

Sienna Khan sat down upon a bearskin on one side of the table and gestured for Gilda to sit down opposite. As Gilda did so, Sienna smoothed out her cloak.

“Wine?” Sienna asked.

Gilda folded her wings up behind her. “Thank you, my lady.”

Sienna dipped one goblet into the cask. “When our forefathers first came to Menagerie, they had little experience in growing wine, so it is said. But they could not afford to import it from Mistral, and so … needs must. As the stories go, it was pretty rotten at first. But now, our chardonnay is equal to the best Mistralian, as the Mistralians could find for themselves, if they would only take up the tariffs. Which they will not, of course.” She held out the wine-filled goblet. “See for yourself.”

Gilda took the silver cup in one hand and downed a draught. It was sharp, tasting of spice and pepper; it burned her mouth, but in a way that left her wanting more. “It is good,” she said. “It’s excellent, but … I can’t claim to be an expert.”

Sienna snorted. “Neither can I, although I tasted enough Mistralian wine while I lived in Mistral.” She filled her own goblet and took a small sip. “Very good,” she said softly. “If we could only export this … the wealth of Menagerie would increase several times over. Which is why they’ll never let us export.” She drank a little more. “You have done well to keep what remains of the chapter together.”

Gilda blinked. She wondered if she had perhaps drunk more than she thought she had. “High Leader?”

Sienna Khan smiled in a particularly feline manner. “There is a difference between what goes on in the sight of men and what goes on that cannot be seen. In public, I rebuke you and say that Adam was a great hero of the White Fang, let down by your poor service; in private, I say that … Adam Taurus was a fool, and if what I have heard from the girl Strongheart is true, his folly came close to treason against our cause.”

Gilda stared at her. “But … you—”

“People need heroes,” Sienna said. “They bring hope in dark times, and we have more need of hope than most, and thus, we have more need of heroes. Adam will be one of those heroes, someone to inspire our people and warm their spirits in the cold nights that will surely come.”

Gilda frowned. “Forgive me, High Leader, but are all our fallen heroes … created by you this way?”

“History is written not by the winners but by those who sit down and set pen to paper,” Sienna said. “Ares Claudandus sentenced Antoninus to death in order to appease the humans who thought Antoninus too much a firebrand. His own nephew, and Ares commanded him to be shot by firing squad for the crime of … wanting to go to Menagerie after all. ‘How long must we live with our eyes fixed on Mistral?’ Later, Ares was betrayed by those same humans he had striven so hard, sacrificed so much, to appease; the House of Thrax and Rutulus joined with Crixus to clasp Ares in irons and cast him into a cell where he died, shivering and begging to be allowed to see his wife and children one last time. Yet now … now, they are equal in death, both heroes, both martyrs, both symbols of our cause and the sacrifices that it demands.”

She drank again. “So it was with Adam. He was a great man once.”

“Before Cinder got her claws in him,” Gilda spat.

Sienna nodded gravely. “We must talk about Cinder Fall and what she did. But Adam … he was a fierce warrior, a champion of our race, and it is as that champion that I will see him remembered. Do not mistake me; I grieve for his death. When his heart was brought to me, I wept … but for what he was, not the fool that he became. I am afraid that, in the eyes of the White Fang, you will have to redeem yourself for your actions, but in my eyes, in private … your judgement was sound, and you did well to save as many as you did.”

“I saved their lives,” Gilda said, “but only you could save their souls.”

Sienna smiled thinly. “Leadership is about convincing people that you know the way to success; once you can convince them of that, they will follow you anywhere.” She was silent for a moment. “That said, I hope you understand that you cannot lead the Vale chapter. You would be unacceptable at this point.”

“I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to,” Gilda said. “I can’t … I can’t lead. Those warriors out there were lost until you came.”

“That is why I have come,” Sienna said. “In all of Remnant, I have too few who can lead; Adam was one, and without him … learn from me, and cover yourself in glory before my sight and the sight of your troops, and it may be that when I return to Menagerie, you are well-positioned to lead the chapter.”

Gilda nodded, even as she wasn’t sure that she would ever be ready to lead as the High Leader led. “You’re very generous.”

“I make use of such blades as present themselves to my hand,” Sienna said. “Tell me about Blake Belladonna.”

The change of subject threw Gilda for a moment. “Blake?”

“She was there, wasn’t she?” Sienna asked. “In Mountain Glenn?”

Gilda nodded gravely. “She has joined the Atlesians.”

Sienna scowled. “I loved her once. I loved her as dearly as if she were my own daughter. Yet now, she has betrayed us, betrayed me, and joined our greatest enemies.” Her eyes narrowed. “You understand, don’t you? You have a friend with the Atlesian forces yourself.”

Gilda’s jaw tightened. “Y-yes. Yes, I do. She … she was there, too.”

“Would you kill her?” Sienna asked. “Would you repay her treachery with death?”

The thought of Dashie impaled upon her blade would have made Gilda shudder in any other company. “Dash— my friend would say that she isn’t a traitor.”

“She is a traitor to our people by taking up arms to defend the human supremacy,” Sienna said. “But leave that aside; she is an enemy. Would you kill her? Could you?”

Gilda swallowed. “I … I could kill her as easily as she could kill me if our paths crossed.”

Sienna stared at her for a moment. There was something sly about her smile. “A diplomatic answer, Gilda. The truth is … the truth is that if Blake were before me now, I’m not sure that I could strike her down, even after all that she has done against us.”

“Because…” Gilda hesitated, feeling as though she might be on thin ice if she said this. “Because you loved her once.”

Sienna nodded. “And because her parents were dear to me once, also.” She shook her head. “And yet … you are less fortunate than I am.”

Gilda frowned. “I’m sure that’s true, High Leader, but … why?”

“Because they must die,” Sienna said. “Both of them. And you must do it.”

Gilda felt her throat dry up as a chill ran down her spine, making her wings ruffle involuntarily. “They … Blake and … Rainbow Dash?”

“Blake has betrayed us,” Sienna said. “Rainbow Dash has betrayed our people. Both of them take up arms in defence of Atlas, the great enemy. Desertion and treason cannot be tolerated at the best of times, and what is worse…” She paused. “Have you heard the news from Atlas?”

Gilda nodded. “They’ve been busy,” she said, not mentioning that she had put Rainbow Dash on the trail of the kidnappings in Low Town. “What they’ve done … I’m impressed. Rescuing all of those people, busting open that trafficking ring, it’s all … and now this strike in Mantle, if the SDC makes concessions—”

“Do you think they will?” Sienna asked.

“I don’t know, but the press seems to think they’ll have to; apparently, the Vale Council is demanding it, and Mistral too, let alone Atlas itself. This all seems like really great news.”

“It’s terrible news,” Sienna declared.

Gilda blinked. “'Terrible'? High Leader, forgive me, but this could lead to things in Mantle, things for everyone who works for the SDC, getting a whole lot better; plus all the poor souls who were being kept as slaves who have been freed—”

“And all without the White Fang lifting a finger or playing any part in it at all,” Sienna said. “The actions of those two, skillfully promoted by the Atlesian propaganda machine, why … people may start to believe that results can be achieved more swiftly working within the system than outside of it; they may start to question the necessity of the White Fang, they may start to wonder what the point of the White Fang and our long struggle is.”

“And what if they do?” Gilda asked. “If things are getting better, then does it really matter how? Isn’t the condition of our people more important than how people look at the White Fang?”

“Master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house,” Sienna said sharply. “Blake, Rainbow Dash, they may gain one or two small concessions, they may accomplish enough to let General Ironwood point to them and proclaim in a plausible sounding tone of voice that he is not a racist, oh no, there are so many faunus in Atlas, and they’re treated so well, look at them smile.” The High Leader’s face twisted in disgust. “But they will be swallowed up, as all faunus who have tried to walk that path have been swallowed up; the gears will squeeze them, and they will end their days … they will end their days in despair, languishing in middle-rank obscurity, Major Belladonna, passed over for promotion to Colonel again and again, pushing papers across a desk in Atlas; or they will be locked away, as Antonio was when he challenged the established order of things.”

“Or they will die at my hands, as you wish,” Gilda muttered. “Forgive me, High Leader, but if they’re fated to fail like that, why do they need to die first? Wouldn’t letting it all come to nothing be a stronger message? It sounds…” She swallowed, aware that she was treading on very, very thin ice here, but … this was Dashie’s life they were talking about, and if Gilda could get out of having to cut off her head, then she would tread on thin ice in order to do it. “It sounds as if you’re worried they won’t fail, and you want them out of the way before they can succeed again.”

Sienna’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Gilda,” she murmured. “My private perception of you can always adjust to match your public reputation.”

“You must do what you think is best for the White Fang,” Gilda said, bowing her head and looking downwards, “but before that, I will speak the truth, as I did to Adam: I do not see the need for this.”

“Do you not think that treachery should be punished?”

“Rainbow Dash is a lot of things, but not a traitor, High Leader; she has always been loyal to Atlas,” Gilda said. Although maybe if she’d been a little bit more loyal to me, we wouldn’t be in this position. “As for Blake … is it treachery that we are punishing, or success?”

“The people will not see the flame gutter low, will not see it burn at a low ebb, blown upon by indifference and institutional prejudice,” Sienna replied. “They will only see it burn brightly, for as long as it is allowed to do so, and for that reason … we must snuff it out.”

“High Leader,” Gilda murmured. “I … I beg of you, she … she’s my friend.”

“And yet, here you are, and there she is, high in Atlas, soaring amongst the clouds,” Sienna pointed out. “Quite a friend, no?”

“I know,” Gilda murmured. “But … must she die? Must they die?”

“I understand your reluctance,” Sienna said, her voice calm and soft and soothing. “As I said, I loved Blake very much, as my own child was she to me. But now … we must make sacrifices for the cause.”

“I know,” Gilda said. “But this … I am willing to give my life but—”

“Anyone can give their lives for a cause,” Sienna said. “I am asking you to give more, I know: your conscience, your very soul. Can you do that? For our people, for the freedom of all faunuskind, for the good of the White Fang and all who depend on us?”

Gilda closed her eyes. Dashie…

For the good of the faunus. For the good of the White Fang.

If General Ironwood ordered you to take me out, you’d do it, right? You’d blow my head clean off.

You’d do it because you’re a good soldier. And so am I.

Good soldiers on opposite sides, and that means … that means that this day was coming sooner or later.

I hate it, but…

What am I going to tell my parents? What am I going to tell your parents?

I’ll tell them you were brave and did your job to the end. The same thing you’d say in my position.

Which is better than even odds, considering that I’m expected to go up against you and Blake.

Yeah, Blake. Blake was … well, Gilda wasn’t Blake’s old friend in the same way, and she kind of blamed her for letting Adam go off the rails the way he had, but at the same time … it was a pity. It was a pity, and she still wasn’t thrilled about the idea.

The High Leader is right; Atlas is using them, propping them up to weaken the cause overall.

This … this is what has to be done.

Or try to, anyway.

“I will do my best to carry out your orders, High Leader,” Gilda murmured. “But … Rainbow Dash and Blake, I’m not sure that I can—”

“I’m not suggesting that you should do this on your own,” Sienna said. “I have brought a team with me from Menagerie: specialists in infiltration and assassination. You will take command, guide them through Vale, and when the moment is right … strike.”

Gilda swallowed. I’m a good soldier. She bowed her head. “Yes, High Leader.”

Author's Note

Next chapter will (finally) begin the Grimm Eclipse arc proper.

Rewrite Notes: As well as moving the position of this chapter, so that it takes place after Grimm Eclipse and not before, the big change comes in the second half, when Sienna does not meet with Cinder but rather gives Gilda her mission.

Transfer Request (New)

Transfer Request

Rainbow Dash took a deep breath.

“Are you … nervous?” asked Penny. “I don’t see what you have to be nervous about.”

“Nothing,” Rainbow said. “Because I’m not nervous.”

“Then why did you take such a deep breath?”

Rainbow glanced at her. “Because I needed air,” she said.

Okay, so she was a little bit nervous. Together, there were four of them waiting outside General Ironwood’s office: Rainbow, Penny, Blake, and Ciel. They were waiting there not, thankfully, because they had been called up to the General’s Office aboard the Valiant but because they’d asked for some of his time and that time had been granted to them.

They were going to turn over Blake and Penny’s transfer requests.

Technically, Blake was doing the right thing in turning her request over to the General first, while Penny was doing slightly the wrong thing — the system as detailed was that you submitted your request first to the headmaster of the school that you wanted to transfer to, who would then decide if he wanted you or could fit you in somewhere; then to the headmaster of the school you wanted to leave, who had far less ability to stop any student from leaving then he did to accept students who wished to arrive — but, in view of Penny’s particular circumstances, they had decided it was best to let General Ironwood know before Professor Ozpin.

They were already kind of surprising him with this; it would be even worse if he found out about it after Professor Ozpin.

Yes, Rainbow was a little bit nervous. She was a little bit nervous about how General Ironwood would take this, less in terms of how he would react to Penny and more how he would react to her and Ciel letting Penny go about it this way.

Rainbow thought that she had done the right thing — procedurally; she knew that she was doing the right thing morally — in taking this approach. She had good reasons for why she had encouraged Penny to do this: if Penny wanted to be treated like just an ordinary student, then she should approach it like an ordinary student; if Penny was not, in fact, any different from an ordinary student, then she should be free to approach this like an ordinary student; sneaking around outside of proper channels confirmed everything that Penny — and Doctor Pietro too — was worried about; and, frankly, the more forewarning there was about all this, the more time there was to react against it; there were times when striking with surprise was more important than more and more preparation.

Rainbow thought that she had done the right thing, but she didn’t know it, and that lack of knowing was making her a little nervous.

It was going to be fine. It was all going to be fine. General Ironwood would hear them out, and he would agree that they had no moral grounds for keeping Penny at Atlas against her will. He would agree, and he would find out that Rainbow had already got Councillor Cadance on their side as well, and he would also agree that there wasn’t much anybody could do to stop Penny from doing what she wanted. He’d approve Penny’s request, he would approve Blake’s request — that part Rainbow really wasn’t worried about — and then they would all fly back to Beacon, where Team SAPR was waiting for them along with Twilight, Neon, Starlight, Trixie, and Sunburst. Penny would go off with SAPR while the Atlesians were going to take Blake out to celebrate.

Which might be just a little premature, but in Blake’s case, at least, once General Ironwood had approved her request, there wasn’t a whole lot that Professor Ozpin could do about it. The system took account of the inconvenience involved in transferring students around Remnant, but ultimately, it was still a system that recognized the importance of student choice.

Which made a lot of sense to Rainbow now. After all, the gods hadn’t given humanity a Relic of Avoiding Unnecessary Paperwork.

Speaking of which, I still need to talk to Ciel about the Maidens.

It was not something she was looking forward to, and it certainly wasn’t something she was going to bring up while they celebrated Blake’s transfer.

Which they were going to do, because that was the happy path, and things were going to proceed down the happy path.

For sure.

With luck.

Hopefully.

The door into General Ironwood's office slid open, offering a clear view of General Ironwood's desk, the window with its view of Vale and of Atlas' majestic fleet patrolling its skies, and of the General himself, sitting behind the desk.

He was looking at them, a smile gracing his face, "Come in, all of you."

"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said as the four of them entered, forming a line abreast before the desk, with Blake upon the left, then Rainbow Dash, then Penny, then finally, Ciel upon the right flank.

Rainbow, Ciel, and Blake all came to attention, saluting General Ironwood — and a pretty good salute from Blake, as well; she'd been practicing in front of a mirror. Penny did not join them.

General Ironwood's blue eyes flickered towards Blake. "Belladonna, as you aren't one of my cadets, you don't have to salute me."

"Not yet, sir," Blake replied softly.

General Ironwood didn't respond to that, instead looking at Penny, who wasn't saluting.

She didn't say anything, and neither did he.

General Ironwood returned the salutes of those who had offered them. "At ease."

Their feet struck the floor in unison as they spaced them apart and clasped their hands behind their backs.

"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Rainbow said.

"It's no trouble," General Ironwood assured her. He smiled. "I'd ask how you found your break, but from what I've heard, it was something of a working vacation for you, especially for Dash and Belladonna. I hope the break hasn't worn you out more than the semester did."

Rainbow chuckled. "Not quite, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it," the General said, "and a little surprised: one set of violent abductions foiled, one modern slavery ring exposed, and if we include Penny and Soleil, we can add a notorious thief brought to justice."

And that doesn't even include the murder, Rainbow thought. "We've kept busy, sir."

"Almost an understatement," General Ironwood murmured. "You've done good work, both of you. What you uncovered … shames Atlas, but shame must be uncovered before honour can be restored. Your actions have allowed that process to begin and justice to be done."

"Where do you think it will end, sir?" Blake asked.

"I think the Schnee Dust Company will bounce back," General Ironwood said. "The company is too large, too dominant, too rich in lien and assets in order to be brought down even by a scandal on this order of magnitude. Board members have been arrested, others may resign, but the organisation as a whole will carry on, recovering in share price, cleaning its reputation—"

"'Cleaning'?" Blake asked. "Or 'laundering'?"

"Is there a difference?" asked Penny.

"Although I would struggle to explain precisely why, cleaning implies good faith effort, laundering only the superficial appearance of the same," Ciel explained.

"People will forgive the company," General Ironwood said, "and I certainly hope and believe that the SDC will change for the better."

"You think they'll make concessions to settle the strike in Mantle then, sir?" Rainbow said.

"What else can they do?" replied the General. "Tough it out and wait for the poverty to bring Mantle to its knees? That isn't possible, politically or, I think, in a business sense. I've made clear to the Council that the military cannot endure a prolonged halt in dust processing and supply without eating into our strategic reserves, and the other kingdoms have made representations as well. And the SDC owes its position in part to the ease and reliability of doing business with it; they won't want to put that at risk. So, yes, I think that there will be a settlement, and I think that things will get better for the workforce … and I think that Jacques Schnee won't recover as quickly as his company will."

Rainbow frowned. "But he … it's because he wasn't involved, isn't it? He had no idea."

"His reputation as a master of business has taken a knock, to say the least," General Ironwood said, "and when you combine that with the climbdown that I think is coming … I'd be surprised if his voice carries the same weight that it did recently."

"And you're alright with that, sir?" asked Blake, in a voice that was soft and quiet.

General Ironwood clasped his hands together on the desk. "I've no love for the man, Belladonna."

"Maybe not, sir, but … this damages Atlas as well, doesn't it?" Blake said. "Especially when Atlas is … I understand that Atlas was coming under attack even before this."

Rainbow's mouth tightened. Even though they had been away in Atlas, they had all heard about — not least from Ruby and her account of what had happened when she went out with that Mistralian guy. It was ingratitude, pure and simple; no, it was worse than ingratitude, it was downright insulting. They had worked, sweated, put their lives on the line to defend this city and this kingdom, and this was the thanks they got: to be accused of wanting to take over, to be treated like they were the bad guys in all this; it was ridiculous!

It was so ridiculous that she was struggling to get her head around it, to tell the truth. She couldn't work out how anyone could think this way.

Although I guess you could say the same thing about the faunus; it's not like that makes much sense either.

Of course, the difference was that, although prejudice against the faunus didn't make any sense, it had been not making sense for years now, if that made sense; it had been going on for ages, and while it had always been stupid, after going on so long, it survived because, well, because it had always been around, and people who didn't like the faunus didn't stop to think much about why not. This … this seemed to have come out of nowhere over the last few weeks.

It was also making her nervous, both in the short term — what was going to happen with Blake's celebration? It would put a dampener on the mood if they got harassed for being Atlesians — and in the slightly longer term when all the rest of her friends arrived for the Vytal Festival.

Not quite nervous enough to tell her friends not to come, even if they'd listen to her, or to not celebrate Blake, because she and the occasion deserved it, but all the same, it was making her nervous.

General Ironwood said, "Tell me, Belladonna, if I was the sort of man who would prefer to maintain Atlas' reputation at the cost of keeping something like this covered up, what would you think?"

"Nothing good, sir," Blake replied.

"No," the General said, "I didn't think so." He paused for a moment. "I don't disagree that the timing is less than ideal, but it isn't your fault, and it isn't something that I expect you to care about." He paused. "What did you think of Atlas, when you saw it?"

"Atlas itself is definitely impressive," Blake said. "A marvel, really, truly a shining light. It's just a pity that light doesn't seem to extend to the rest of the kingdom."

"Sometimes there are no easy answers," General Ironwood said, "and even the answers that seem easiest to find have obstacles strewn in their path."

"Then we should try and surmount them, no?" asked Blake.

"Of course," replied the General, "but without expecting them to be surmounted easily."

"Mantle is not some helpless victim in its own fate, but a participant in the same," Ciel said crisply. "It has problems, I will not even try to deny the fact, but those problems are made in Mantle as much as they are made by Atlas to inflict upon us."

Blake leaned forwards a little to get a better look at her. "But that doesn't mean that Atlas doesn't have a responsibility to help resolve those problems."

"If they can be solved," said Ciel.

"All problems can be solved," Blake replied. "With time, and will, and resources."

Ciel did not deny it, and so a silence settled briefly in the office.

General Ironwood said, "I take it the four of you didn't ask to see me so that we could discuss Belladonna's impressions of Atlas."

"No, sir, although it's more relevant than you'd think," Rainbow replied. "We asked to see you so that we could submit these."

She got out her scroll, manipulating it one-handed so that she could maintain as much of her at-ease stance as possible, and with her thumb, pressed the 'send' button to transmit Blake and Penny's transfer requests to General Ironwood.

There was a beep from the General's desk to indicate that he had received them. He activated the holographic screen, a barrier of semi-transparent blue light dividing and yet not dividing him from the four students standing before him.

Blake's face was stoically impassive, but Penny's eyes were wide, and she began to lean forwards ever so slightly.

General Ironwood's expression had more in common with Blake than with Penny as he read through the files that Rainbow had sent him with no visible reaction whatsoever, as though none of this aroused any strong feelings in him whatsoever. He might as well have been reading a grocery list for all that it seemed to interest him at all.

It was impossible to tell what he really thought — unless he just didn't care, which Rainbow doubted.

He shut off the holographic screen, the barrier between the General and the students dissolving into nothing.

"Belladonna," he said, "your request is not unexpected." He smiled. "But no less welcome for that." He stood up. "You've already done great service to the Kingdom of Atlas, and I have no doubt that you will do as much if not more once you start wearing an Atlas uniform. Just as I have no qualms at all with approving your request. Welcome to Atlas."

"Thank you, sir," Blake said. "Your wholehearted endorsement means a lot."

The General chuckled. "Based on your record, I'd be a fool to pass you up, especially with all that you know; I can always use another operative who is privy to all the facts."

Do you know how true that is, sir? Rainbow wondered. Ciel wasn't the only one she needed to have a talk with about the Maidens.

She understood that, within Professor Ozpin's secret group, General Ironwood was only a subordinate; she understood that information needed to be kept on a need-to-know basis sometimes — and once you'd decided to go all in on secrecy, much as Rainbow disagreed with that, there was a pretty good case for keeping the Maidens very need-to-know indeed. But she had to say that it kind of hurt a little bit that Professor Ozpin had trusted Team SAPR more than the General had trusted them, even if SAPR didn't give their headmaster a whole lot of choice.

"Fitting in transfer students is always a little bit of a challenge," General Ironwood went on, "but we'll make a space for you somewhere, and somewhere close to home, if at all possible."

That's one down, Rainbow thought.

Unfortunately, that was the easy one.

General Ironwood remained standing, turning his gaze from Blake to Penny. "Penny," he said, "I'm more surprised to receive this from you. Much more surprised. Have you submitted this request to Professor Ozpin?"

"N-no, General," Penny replied. "Rainbow said it would be best to submit it to you, first."

"Sensible," General Ironwood murmured, in such a way as to suggest that sense might be rare in this situation. He glanced first at Rainbow, and then at Ciel. "I take it you were both aware of this?"

"Yes, sir."

"I was, sir."

"Something almost as surprising as the request itself," General Ironwood observed.

Rainbow swallowed. "Sir, if I may—"

"In a moment," General Ironwood said, cutting her off. "Penny, perhaps you'd best begin: what's this about?"

"I want to go to school with my friends, sir," Penny said, simply but firmly.

"Your friends meaning Beacon's Team Sapphire?"

"I hope I can make other friends," she replied. "But … yes."

"And you think that is sufficiently good reason?" asked General Ironwood.

"If I may have the General's permission to be blunt," Ciel murmured.

General Ironwood nodded. "Granted."

Ciel took a deep breath. "Either Penny has the right to request a transfer of school, or she is a slave, and we all deserve to be occupying cells next to Calliope Ferny and her SDC co-conspirators."

"That is blunt."

"But not, I think, overly hyperbolic, sir," Ciel replied. "Or, to my shame, too arguable. With all due respect, sir, and without wishing you to think that I am attempting to absolve myself through placing all the blame on you … we have been made complicit in a grave injustice, and it … soils me, sir."

General Ironwood did not immediately reply. He studied Ciel for a moment, and then a moment more, before turning his attention to Rainbow. "Do you feel the same way, Dash?"

"I'm not sure I'd put it quite that way, sir," Rainbow muttered. "But … when Penny says that she wants to go to school with her friends, put like that, it sounds like something that doesn't matter that much: this is military academy, not summer camp and all. But what it means … maybe I shouldn't put words in Penny's mouth, but she might be too nice to say that she wants to go to school with people who treat her like a person, not a … well, that isn't us, sir, and…" Here goes. "I'm not sure that it's you, sir, either."

General Ironwood did not swell up at the insult. His voice remained calm as he said, "I think you'd better explain."

"You put together a test team for Penny, sir," Rainbow explained. "Me, Ciel, Twilight, you wouldn't have done that for any other student—"

"I might end up doing it for Belladonna next year," he pointed out.

"Okay, sir, but that's how it goes with transfers," Rainbow admitted. "I should have said that you wouldn't have done it for any new students. Penny wasn't given the chance to go through Initiation and find her teammates, they were given to her, and we … well, this isn't about us, so it doesn't matter what we did or didn't do, it only matters … Penny, did you ever feel like a part of this team?"

"I…"

"Did you ever feel that you were regarded by us as part of this team," Ciel said, "and treated as an equal?"

"No," Penny said. "I always felt like I was your assignment, not your teammate or your friend."

Ciel looked away, her head bowed; Rainbow was no longer able to see her face, but she could guess the look on it.

"I know that I was created," Penny went on, "but I was created with a voice; I can tell you what I want, I can think and tell you what I'm thinking, I can feel and tell you what I'm feeling, and … and what I'm feeling is … I'm terrified of spending the next three years all alone once the Vytal Festival is over."

Silence crashed down in the office like a bomb. Nobody said anything in response to that pronouncement.

There was very little that could be said.

Rainbow's hands knotted into fists, angry not at Penny but at herself.

There was no excuse.

"Sir," she said quietly. "At this point … the only way I can think to fulfil my duty of care is to help Penny to get out from under my care and go … somewhere else. If you'll allow me to say so: sometimes, there are no easy answers, but sometimes, the answer is staring you in the face."

"And yet, even then, there may be obstacles," General Ironwood murmured.

Rainbow felt her stomach chill a little. Surely, he couldn't be about to decide against Penny.

"There is a lot of force in what you say," General Ironwood continued, his voice rising and firming up. "In what you all say. Penny … I feel as though I owe you an apology. I owe you all an apology, for putting you in this position, but Penny most of all. I thought I was doing the right thing by assembling Team Rosepetal the way I did, but maybe I would have done better by you to have kept your true nature a secret and let your teammates treat you like any other girl."

"Perhaps, sir," Ciel whispered.

"You did what you thought was right, sir," Penny said.

General Ironwood's eyebrows rose. "You want to leave Atlas so badly that you're terrified I might refuse, but you don't resent me for your situation."

"I don't blame or hate anyone," Penny said. "The fact that it didn't work out doesn't mean you didn't try your best, all of you."

General Ironwood leaned on his desk, resting his hands upon the metal. "That's … very generous of you, Penny. Very generous indeed." He looked down at his hands, and his desk, for a moment. "You understand that it is not that easy. The Council may feel entitled to a return on the considerable investment it made in creating you."

"Perhaps the Council might profitably ask itself what it was expecting in return for that investment, sir," Ciel said softly. "Or at least ask who it was expecting to give up a part of their aura in return for future Pennys. Or perhaps they might be asked to state, explicitly and without cover, what kind of world they expect any such artificial people to be born into if they deny the first of their kind exercise of her free will."

"On a more practical note," Rainbow added. "I've already spoken to Councillor Cadenza, and she's agreed to support Penny if this goes up in front of the Council."

"You spoke to the Councillor before you spoke to me?" asked General Ironwood.

"I thought it was important not to speak to you in advance, sir, on a point of principle," Rainbow replied, "that no other student would have to speak to you in advance of submitting their transfer request."

"Though it doesn't mean that they couldn't," General Ironwood responded. "Any student who was considering transferring out of Atlas could discuss the issue with me to see if we could address the reasons why they wanted to transfer or advise them on which school they would be better served transferring to."

Rainbow blinked. "That is a very good point, sir."

"But it was a good idea to gain Councillor Cadenza's support," General Ironwood went on, "although … perhaps not necessary."

"Sir?" Ciel murmured.

"Despite the possible interest of the Council in this, you make such compelling arguments for why it would be wrong to prevent Penny from following her heart that I believe it would be immoral to raise this issue and wait for them to deliberate on the question of whether Penny has a right to make her own decisions or no. Rather … I'm going to approve this request, forward it to Ozpin with a recommendation that he approve it also, and follow the same process as any other student." He frowned. "I can't make up for the mistakes of the past year, but I can avoid making them going forward."

"You mean … you're going to allow my transfer?" Penny asked, her voice fragile, brittle-sounding like glass that might shatter if dropped.

"How can I not, after hearing what I have heard?" asked the General.

Ciel began, "But the Council—"

"Won't be able to touch Penny once she is at Beacon, under Ozpin's care," said General Ironwood. "They wouldn't even be able to try and do anything without revealing Penny's true nature, which they've been reluctant to do so far and which, I hope, they would be too afraid of the consequences to do."

"They could still punish you though, sir," Rainbow pointed out.

"If they wish to do so, then that's their right," General Ironwood said. "It will say more about them than about me."

"You … you would do that for me?" Penny asked.

"I would do it because it's the right thing to do," said General Ironwood.

Penny stared at him for a moment, and for that moment, Rainbow thought that she might launch herself at the General into an embrace. But she did not. She simply clasped her hands together over her heart and said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."

General Ironwood's smile seemed a little sad. "Professor Ozpin has … a lot on his mind today, so I won't bring it up with him right now, but I will very soon, you have my word, to both of you. Penny, I honestly hope that you'll be happy at Beacon."

"I'm sure I will, sir," Penny declared. "I've got no doubts, absolutely none at all."

Dusty Old Crow (Rewritten)

Dusty Old Crow

General Ironwood had given his students — his former student in the case of Penny and his future student in the case of Belladonna — a little bit of a headstart before he, too, descended from his ship to Beacon.

He had suspected that there might be a reception committee waiting for them on the landing pad, and he hadn’t wanted to kill the mood with his presence.

Given the large crowd of Atlas students — and Twilight — that he had seen making their way from the landing pads when he arrived, including Dash and Glimmer carrying Belladonna on their shoulders while she protested ineffectually, it seemed that he had been right about that.

Penny, meanwhile, he had spotted with the members of Team SAPR.

Penny’s situation was one of the reasons why, as he rode the elevator up the Emerald Tower to Ozpin’s office, he couldn’t smile, as much as the sight of Belladonna surrounded by her new comrades might have prompted him to do so. For as much as he was gaining a wonderful new student in Belladonna, one that he had been gently angling for — and tacitly encouraging Dash to angle for — for some time, he was also losing a student, and it was his fault.

He had not treated Penny as … as he treated his other students. Which wasn’t to say that he never made mistakes with his students — he did — but never severe enough to drive them away as they had Penny.

Perhaps that’s because, even when I made errors with students like Glimmer, their comrades acted as a tether to hold them at Atlas. Penny didn’t even have that.

Ironwood believed in his people. He believed that, though he might make errors, his kids, his men and women would, with their courage, skill, and commitment, redeem those errors and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

But that did not apply in Penny’s case, because the kids had been — without meaning to apportion any blame to them by saying so — part of the error.

I should have let the chips fall.

Like with any other student.

At least there is still time to make it right, even if there isn’t time to keep her for Atlas.

As the lift ground upwards, Ironwood turned his eyes up, as though he could see through the elevator ceiling to his destination at the very top of the tower.

His journey up here, and the reason for it, was another reason why Ironwood could not smile. Ozpin had decided that the time had come for Miss Nikos and had requested his presence at the meeting, along with Glynda.

Ironwood … Ironwood had a great many emotions about this, starting with relief that it wasn’t Dash, in the end. Yes, he had put her name forward, because the times, the circumstances, demanded that he hold nothing back, that he put forward his best, but, in all honesty — and who could you be honest with if you couldn’t be honest with yourself? — if he had wanted to make Dash a Maiden, then he would have put her forward for Winter when Luna fell ill. But he hadn’t. He had suggested Glimmer instead because, while competent — very competent, or so it had seemed — he didn’t … he hadn’t wanted to lose Dash, to stuff her away in Canterlot like a miser’s gold.

He still didn’t. He was still relieved that he wouldn’t.

But that relief didn’t mean that he was without sympathy for Miss Nikos and what would be asked of her. He had supplied the machinery, but that didn’t mean that he was unaware of the aspects of this that some would find … unethical.

His mind briefly returned to his conversation with Dash, Soleil, Belladonna, and Penny from just a short while earlier. If they thought that Penny’s treatment was bad, it would be as nothing if or when they found out about this.

If or when. He didn’t know how much leeway Ozpin was planning to give Miss Nikos in terms of telling other people about all this. He was planning to tell Miss Shimmer as well, to give her at least some support — a support which did make Ironwood wonder if Ozpin’s secret hope was that Miss Nikos would refuse — but as for the rest of her team, or anyone else for that matter, he didn’t know how much she would be allowed to say.

He didn’t know how much either of them would respect any boundaries that Ozpin tried to place upon their tongues.

Nor did he know how Miss Nikos would take all this, and that lent a slight nervousness to go along with his sympathy for her. She was undoubtedly very talented, very well thought of, intelligent — but all of those things had been true of Glimmer as well, and it hadn’t made her strong enough to bear the weight. He didn’t want Ozpin to make the same mistake that he’d made.

It was a lot to put on someone, even the strongest. Of the last four girls to actually assume the powers of a Maiden, two of them had tried to flee after the fact. It was not an easy burden to bear.

Not to mention the question of how possibly the most famous girl in Mistral is supposed to disappear in Vale and be forgotten about.

But, in the present time and circumstances, they couldn’t afford to hold anything back. Ozpin needed his best, and he had decided that that was Miss Nikos.

His students, his choice.

The elevator reached the top, coming to a complete stop with a small thumping sound. There was the ring of a bell before the door began to open; even before the doors had opened completely, Ironwood was assailed by the sound of voices raised in argument.

All the voices were familiar to him, even the one he hadn’t heard in a while.

“There was very little choice—” Ozpin began.

“Don’t talk to me about having no choice, Oz! There’s always a choice, you taught me that! I can’t believe this … she’s a kid for crying out loud!”

“Qrow?” Ironwood asked, as he stepped out of the elevator.

There he was, the man himself: Qrow Branwen, Ozpin’s top and — until recently — only field agent. He was standing in front of Ozpin’s desk, one hand placed upon the transparent surface. At the sound of Ironwood’s voice, he straightened up — as much as Qrow ever straightened up, anyway — and cast a disdainful gaze upon him. “Jimmy. I gotta say, I’m surprised that you went along with this. And a little disappointed.”

James Ironwood was a tall man, but Qrow was nearly of a height with him, less than an inch between them, although Qrow seemed a deal shorter with the way he walked around with a habitual stoop, as if he was carrying an immense weight upon his shoulders — or as if he’d been born with a crooked back. He was wearing the same clothes that he’d been wearing when Ironwood had seen him last, over a year ago — which were still the same clothes that he’d been wearing years before that when Ironwood had picked up Team STRQ after their failed attack on Salem. Did the man only have one outfit, or did he have multiples of the exact same thing? Surely, he changed clothes sometimes?

Said outfit consisted of a pair of plain and unadorned black pants, with a dark grey waistcoat — no shirt underneath — and a light grey jacket with black lining visible on the collar and the rolled-up sleeves. Were it not for the ragged red cape, ripped and tattered at the hem, that hung off his shoulders, he might have looked like some sort of itinerant businessman, perhaps a travelling salesman down on his luck.

One who had forgotten to shave.

The only part of Qrow’s appearance that seemed well cared for was his jet black hair — he had not started going grey yet, lucky him — which he kept slicked back, save for the bangs that covered his forehead.

“I didn’t think it was possible for me to disappoint you,” Ironwood observed.

Qrow stared at Ironwood for a moment with his red eyes, before turning away, pulling a hip flask out of his pocket. “Yeah? Me too, Jimmy.” He unscrewed the top of his flask and took a drink. “Me too.”

“Thank you for coming, James,” Ozpin said, from where he was seated behind his desk. “As you can see, Qrow has returned—”

“To find out that I’ve wasted the last year and that everything’s turned into a real mess while I was away,” Qrow muttered, turning away from Ironwood and walking to the windows that looked out across the city and the school.

“Qrow—” Glynda began.

“Don’t,” Qrow cut her off, raising one hand. “Don’t defend this, Glynda, it… you should have called, Oz.”

“You were out of contact,” Glynda said.

“I sent you a message!” Qrow snapped, rounding on them. “I told you ‘Queen has pawns’; it was a warning.”

“And then we didn’t hear anything else out of you until now,” Glynda said. “We thought you were compromised — or worse.”

“You think that I’d get caught or killed that easily?” Qrow replied. “Nice to know you all have so much faith in me.”

He took another drink from his flask. “You could have called. You should have called. You know how it goes when I’m on an assignment like this; I don’t get in contact unless I have something to report, but you can always reach me if you need me! You need me to find Amber, you call me; you need me to find out who attacked Amber, you call me; you need someone to go to Mountain Glenn and check it out, you call me, Oz! You don’t ask Jimmy to find you some stuffed shirts, and you don’t get Ruby involved in all of this, you call me! Because I’m your guy, and I…” He turned away. “She’s a kid, Oz.”

“She has silver eyes,” Ozpin said softly. “You know how unlikely it is that she will be able to stand aloof from this struggle all her life. Nor do I think she would wish to.”

“Of course she wouldn’t,” Qrow muttered. “Ruby … she’s got too much of her mom in her for that. But that doesn’t mean that she’s ready to jump in feet first; she’s fifteen! She should be worrying about boys, not the fate of the world.”

He paused. “I don’t actually want her worrying about boys, either; is there something else that you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t keep track of the personal lives of my students,” Ozpin murmured.

“But as far as I am aware,” Glynda said, “no, there is no boy.”

“Thank gods for small mercies, I guess,” Qrow growled.

Ironwood took a deep breath, clasping his hands together behind his back as he walked around the edge of the room. “I take it that you’ve been briefed.”

“Like I said, I found out that I’ve been wasting my time,” Qrow said. “I come back to tell Oz that our enemy, the one who attacked Amber, is here at Beacon, and what do I find? I find out that you already knew that — 'knew' being the operative word because she’s gone now. I find out that you knew her name, which was more than I managed to find out.” He paused. “Do you think that Leo’s been compromised?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Ironwood said.

“I do not believe it,” Ozpin said.

“I know that you don’t want to believe it,” Qrow said. “I don’t want to believe it either, but—”

“Leo has served me faithfully for as long as any of you in this room,” Ozpin declared. “I will not condemn him based on circumstantial evidence. He has explained his actions, and I have accepted his explanation. There is nothing more to be said on the matter.”

“You mean you accepted that he let our enemy waltz into Beacon wearing a Haven uniform because he wanted to win the Vytal Festival so badly that he didn’t do his diligence?” asked Qrow.

“There is nothing more to be said on the matter,” Ozpin repeated, more firmly and more heavily this time.

Qrow frowned but didn’t push the matter further. Rather he said, “And I found out that, as a result of all this, when you got a tip about this Cinder chick holing up in Mountain Glenn with the White Fang, instead of calling me, you decided to brief Ruby, and her friends, and some of Jimmy’s kids, and sent them off into that oversized tomb instead.” He looked at Ironwood. “I didn’t think you had it in you to do something like that.”

“Bring any of my students in?” Ironwood asked. “I’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, that kid who lost it,” Qrow said. “What was her name, Twilight—”

“Starlight,” Ironwood said. “Starlight Glimmer.”

“Whatever,” Qrow muttered. “I know the Great War was fought so we could all have colourful names, but sometimes, it gets a little ridiculous.” He paused, “But that’s different, that doesn’t … it’s different. I knew that you were ambitious, but I didn’t think you’d push your kids forward to take part in this war the way you have. I thought you’d think it was too risky for them.”

Again, he turned his attention outwards, to the city of Vale and to the fleet that guarded it. “You know, they’re starting to hate you down there.”

“I’m aware of the sentiments that are being expressed in some quarters,” Ironwood said softly. “It’s a few malcontents.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little more than that; they’re starting to really hate you down there,” Qrow said. “I felt it when I was on my way up here—”

“Trawling every bar along the way, no doubt,” Glynda muttered.

Qrow sniggered. “Hey, you wanna know what people are thinking, you could do worse than go to where they drink and listen to what they have to say.”

“And what are they saying?” Ozpin asked.

“A lot, and a lot of it not good,” Qrow replied. “It’s not just Atlas that they hate — I could understand that; I share the sentiment — but the faunus as well. Now, faunus are kind of creepy—”

“That’s not funny,” Ironwood said.

“Was I making a joke?”

“I hope so,” Ironwood replied in a voice that had just a hint of a growl about it.

Qrow looked back at Ironwood so that the latter could see him rolling his eyes at what he no doubt saw as Ironwood’s po-faced righteousness. “Anyway, the faunus don’t deserve to be hated, unlike some people, but they’re catching heat just as much as Atlas is.”

“I’ve already discussed this with the First Councillor,” Ozpin said. “He intends to beef up police presence during the Vytal Festival to protect visiting tourists.”

“What about the faunus?” asked Glynda.

“Councillor Emerald doubts that they would appreciate police protection if it were offered,” Ozpin answered.

“It might not be enough,” Qrow muttered. “There’s an ugly mood out there.”

“How bad is it?” asked Ozpin quietly. “How widespread?”

“I didn’t check the whole city,” said Qrow, “but widespread enough.” He turned around to face Ironwood. “You shouldn’t have brought your fleet with you.”

“Without my forces, Vale would have been in a whole lot more trouble than it is,” Ironwood said. “Without my forces, we wouldn’t be talking about the Vytal Festival but about where to settle refugees from Vale in Mistral or Atlas.”

“And yet, they have put an energy in the air,” Ozpin murmured, “one that would not be present were it not for the vast military armada overhead.”

“If people don’t know why we’re here after the Breach, that isn’t my fault,” Ironwood said. “People’s reaction isn’t my fault.”

“The consequences of your actions aren’t your fault?” Qrow asked. “Very mature.”

“Qrow,” Glynda chided him. “As much as I find Atlesian displays of military prowess … ridiculous, James’ fleet was of great help during the Breach.”

“I’m just saying there’s no gratitude down there that I could find,” Qrow said. “I’m also saying there’s a reason we work in the shadows and use our discretion.”

“Discretion wouldn’t have done a thing when that tunnel opened up and a horde of grimm started pouring into the city,” Ironwood replied. “Discretion wasn’t going to remind … the people of Vale can hate me if they want to, they can hate the sight of my ships overhead, they can be as ungrateful as they like, but while my ships are overhead, the people of this city will know they are protected, and our enemies will fear our strength.”

“'Fear'?” Qrow repeated, taking a step towards him. “You think they’re scared?”

“I think that we’ve heard nothing from the White Fang since the Breach, so yes, I think that those that are yet living are intimidated by the power that we can bring to bear against them.”

“The White Fang aren’t our real problem,” Qrow said, “and the grimm don’t know fear. Just like you don’t know what’s waiting out there, the things that she’s made.”

“They don’t know me and mine either,” Ironwood declared.

Qrow looked away, out of the window. “I think I can see some of your kids,” he said, his tone becoming almost casual. “Looks like they’re having a party on the lawn.”

“Yes, they’re mine,” Ironwood said. “They’re celebrating.”

“'Celebrating'?” Qrow asked. “Celebrating what?”

Ironwood glanced at Ozpin. “One of your students has submitted a request to transfer to Atlas.”

“Ah, Miss Belladonna I presume?” Ozpin replied. “That is a pity, but not unexpected.”

“Someone wants to leave Beacon and go to Atlas?” Qrow asked in disbelief. “Is she stupid or just a glutton for punishment?”

“One of my students is also asking to transfer to Beacon—” Ironwood went on.

“Smart girl,” Qrow muttered.

Ironwood ignored him to go on, “I wasn’t going to submit the forms right away, because … you’re a little busy today.”

Ozpin smiled slightly. “Thank you for your consideration, James.”

“And so, this transfer student,” Qrow said, “she’s the one this is all about?”

“Belladonna has made quite an impression,” Ironwood explained.

Qrow snorted. “Picnics on the courtyard grass,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Gods, was I ever that young?” He looked at Ironwood. “They’re not ready for what’s out there. For what’s coming.”

“No,” Ironwood said softly. “But they’ll meet it bravely when it comes. If Salem takes their valour too lightly, then she’ll regret it.” He paused. “But that is why I brought the fleet, that’s why I brought all these airships that you hate so much, so that they wouldn’t have to be ready, so that they wouldn’t have to face it on their own without backup. And I’d do it again, though it incense the whole of Vale so much that they rise up against me.”

Qrow smirked. “Of course you would,” he murmured wearily. “Because they’re your kids. Except they aren’t, and you’d be better off if you remembered that.”

“How so?” asked Ironwood.

“You know how so,” Qrow said sharply. “There’s … eight kids down there on the lawn. Assuming they all live long enough to graduate, the odds are still good that half of them will be dead before they turn thirty. Chances are, by the time they turn forty, there’ll be two left at most.”

“I try and give them the tools to improve those odds where I can,” Ironwood said.

“Good for you,” Qrow said; it was hard to tell if he was being sincere or not because the drink gave him a perpetual surliness in his tone. “My point is that it doesn’t do any good to get too attached to anyone in this line of work. It’s a recipe for heartache.”

“I take it that Ruby and Yang can’t expect a visit from you then, while you’re here?” asked Glynda.

Qrow took another drink, one that seemed longer than the others. “It’s best if I stay away,” he muttered.

“Best for who?” asked Glynda.

“For them! Bad things happen when I’m around.”

“Qrow, your semblance is a part of who you are,” Ozpin said. “It isn’t something to be ashamed of, or feared.”

“Easy for you to say; it’s not your semblance,” Qrow muttered.

“I’m sure they would be delighted to see you,” said Ozpin.

“I know that Miss Xiao Long has some questions for you,” Glynda added.

“And as you’ve pointed out, the mission that I assigned to you has been rendered rather superfluous,” Ozpin went on, “so I would like you to remain at Beacon, or at least around Vale, while the Vytal Festival goes on and this … this business is conducted.”

“You don’t want me to take your new guardian away?” Qrow asked. “Whisk her somewhere safe?”

“Not yet,” Ozpin replied. “Not until we know … more.”

Everyone was silent for a moment. No one blamed Ozpin for not elaborating on what he meant by ‘more.’ They all knew, and it was … difficult, to speak of.

“So,” Ozpin went on, “you will have time to spend with your nieces, and I would advise that you do. Although … in the circumstances, I cannot deny that there might be something in what you say with regards to the benefits of a lack of attachment.”

“You’ve chosen a guardian, then?” asked Qrow.

“Yes,” Ozpin said softly. “Yes, I have chosen. I have had my eye on her for quite some time, ever since she applied to Beacon, I thought that … that she might be the one. She is intelligent, caring, strong—”

“Is she ready?” Qrow asked.

“No one is ever truly ready,” Ozpin whispered.

Qrow sighed. “So … who is she?”

The elevator door opened, and Miss Nikos emerged into the office, accompanied by Miss Shimmer.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” Pyrrha said, as she looked around the room. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, Miss Nikos,” Ozpin said, making his voice sound a good deal more genial than it had sounded just a moment earlier. “I’d say you’re just in time.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter got a whole lot shorter as a result of being completely rewritten.

The original version of this chapter was modelled after Qrow's appearance in V3's Brawl in the Family, where he acted like a complete dickhead. This time he's modelled after V4-5's super-angsty Qrow, moody and melancholy but much less antagonistic.

The Girl in the Glass Coffin (Rewritten)

The Girl in the Glass Coffin

Sunset’s ears twitched as she scratched the back of her head. “Penny’s in a good mood, huh?”

Pyrrha smiled. “Understandable, I think. If she had not wanted to transfer to Beacon, then she would hardly have applied to transfer to Beacon, would she?”

Sunset let out a little chuckle. “No,” she said. “I guess not. Still, she’s in a very good mood.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “It’s rather a pity that we had to go.”

“I’m sure Ruby and Jaune will look after her,” Sunset said.

“So am I,” Pyrrha replied. “But a pity, nonetheless.”

They had, after all, been having a rather nice time. Penny was certainly exuberant about her upcoming transfer, which seemed to have had the largest obstacle to it cleared away and to be almost guaranteed now.

“We should take her out tonight,” Pyrrha said. “To Benni Havens, or maybe to somewhere nice in Vale.” Not too nice, Penny wouldn’t want anywhere that was too formal or stuck-up, but somewhere nice, nonetheless.

Sunset glanced at her. “Penny doesn’t eat.”

“She can appear to eat,” Pyrrha reminded her. “Which reminds me, we should probably ask Twilight how to open up her chest and remove and replace the, um, the bag or whatever it’s called that her food goes into.”

“Mmm,” Sunset murmured. “That’s … that’s a point, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Well, somebody is going to have to do that,” Sunset said. “And maybe other things besides; unless Penny can open up her own chest, maybe she can, but it’ll look odd if anyone catches her doing it. Is she going to tell her new team that she’s a robot?”

“I suppose that’s up to her. It will probably depend on who her new teammates are. Do you think she’ll be assigned to Team Iron?”

“That would be easy,” Sunset said. “Although Y-R-P-N would be stretching the point for a pronunciation of ‘Iron’ even more than the B is at the moment.”

Pyrrha laughed softly. “True.” She paused for a moment, considering. “It’s a very unfortunate set of letters, isn’t it? The lack of vowels in particular is quite a hindrance.”

“Especially since you have to lead with a Y,” Sunset said. “If Ren were the leader, you could have Team Ripen.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed slightly. “Ripen isn’t a colour.”

“Lots of fruit ripens, and fruit is colourful,” Sunset pointed out. “In fact, some fruit changes colour depending on whether it’s unripe, ripe, or overripe, so it’s especially evocative of colour. Or you could keep the letters in the same order and have Team Riparian.”

“You could,” Pyrrha said. “If Ren were the leader instead of Yang.” She gave it some more thought. “Team Xiphos?”

Sunset looked up at her. “'Xiphos'?”

“It’s a type of sword,” Pyrrha explained. “Swords being frequently grey and metallic in colour.”

“I know what a Xiphos is; I’m just not sure how you’re spelling it.”

“X-L-P-V,” Pyrrha said. “The L for Lie is used in place of an I and V can be used for the F sound in Xiphos, as it is in Coffee.”

“That’s a bit of a reach, don’t you think?” Sunset asked.

“Can you think of a better idea that preserves Yang’s leadership?” asked Pyrrha.

“No,” admitted Sunset. “Of course, we don’t know that she’ll get placed with Iron, convenient as it would be.”

“True, but it would be very convenient; I think they could be trusted to know the truth, don’t you?”

“Yeah, if anyone could, it’s them,” Sunset replied. “Yang would take it in stride and Nora—”

“Would love it,” Pyrrha said, a slight smile playing across her face. “If… if it is not them, then—”

“Don’t say it,” Sunset cut her off. “Don’t even think about it.”

“We are the people who know her best,” Pyrrha pointed out. “We are the reason she decided to come to Beacon in the first place.”

“Alright then, tell me who you want to lose in order to take Penny,” Sunset replied.

“I would, of course, be willing to—”

“Not going to happen,” Sunset said, her words as heavy as the descending blade of an executioner’s axe, cutting off Pyrrha’s words.

“You can hardly expect me to name someone else,” Pyrrha said, a slight note of reproach creeping into her voice.

“No,” Sunset said. “I don’t.”

Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. “What happened to respecting the choices of others?”

“There are limits to my respect,” Sunset declared, “and what you’re proposing goes beyond them. Besides which, my nerves have been frayed quite enough lately by the choices other people have made which I have, more fool me, committed myself to respecting. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to respect you or Ruby or Jaune waltzing off to join some team of no-marks out on missions where I wasn’t and couldn’t influence anything. I should lose my hair from worry, most like, or see my tail fall off. No thank you.”

“Can your tail—?”

“I’m not willing to risk it,” Sunset said, as said tail shook from side to side. She folded her arms. “Don’t mistake me, I like Penny; I like her a lot. I just … don’t want to lose anyone.” She blinked. “Hey, maybe we should ask Professor Ozpin if Penny can stay with us, like Blake did for a little bit?”

“You mean a five-person team?” Pyrrha asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Sunset said. “There are two Ps in ‘sapphire’ after all, why not in Team Sapphire?”

“It seems rather irregular,” Pyrrha murmured. “Especially when there are two first-year teams missing a member, or will be when Blake transfers.”

“Yeah, but you don’t honestly want Penny to join Team Bluebell, do you?” Sunset asked. “Do you trust them with her?”

“They are our peers and fellow students, Sunset,” Pyrrha said, and this time, reproach did more than creep into her voice; it opened up the door and walked in. “You shouldn’t speak of them that way. Sky gave his life defending Vale; that is as worthy a thing as any huntsman has ever done or could do.”

Sunset frowned, as her arms fell down to her sides. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, I know.”

Pyrrha decided that it might be best to change the subject. “I … hope that Blake is having a good time with the Atlesians.”

“I’m sure she is,” Sunset said softly.

I suppose that wasn’t a very good choice of subject either. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Sunset asked. “It’s fine, it’s not your fault, it’s fine. This is what she wants. They don’t deserve her, but … it’s what she wants. I’m sure they’ll take good care of her.” She looked at Pyrrha once again. “In the meantime, what do you think Professor Ozpin wants with the two of us?”

“I’ve really no idea,” Pyrrha said. “I know no more of this than you do. In any case, I shouldn’t think we have very long to wait to find out.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, I suppose we don’t.”

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal that the room was occupied not only by Professor Ozpin, but also by Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and a man whom Pyrrha did not know, a man in his early middle age with black hair slicked back in such a way that vaguely resembled a bird’s tail feathers with the way it stuck out behind his head, with stubble on his cheeks and lines beneath his red eyes. He was dressed rather casually compared to the other three people in the room, in a jacket and waistcoat with no shirt.

He looked like the sort of man her servants would have sent to the tradesman’s entrance if he had shown up at the door — and even then, there was no guarantee they would have let him in — although, of course, the fact that he would have been a victim of snobbery in Mistral was no indicator of a lack of worth.

But even in this company, he looked somewhat under-dressed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, as she and Sunset stepped out of the lift. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said genially, rising from his seat. “I’d say you’re just in time.”

'Just in time'? Just in time for what, Professor?

“Professor,” Sunset murmured, bowing her head. “Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“So,” the man said, not bothering to introduce himself, “you’re Ruby’s team mates, huh?”

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha.

“If you mean Ruby Rose, then yes,” Pyrrha replied. “We have that pleasure. It appears you have the advantage of us, sir.”

The man grunted. “The name’s Qrow.”

“Qrow is a trusted colleague of mine,” Professor Ozpin said, sitting back down again. “He is my most capable field agent.”

“I was your only field agent,” Qrow muttered. “I should still be your only field agent.”

“Qrow,” Professor Goodwitch began.

“I know, I know, necessity,” Qrow said. “Doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t what I had in mind for Ruby’s school days.”

“Qrow,” Sunset repeated. “Qrow Branwen, the Q in Team Stark?”

Qrow’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah. How did you know it was spelled that way?”

“Our dorm room used to be yours,” Pyrrha explained.

Qrow stared at them for a moment before he snorted. “The wall,” he said, “that carving.”

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said. “We found the marks you made: S-T-R-Q. We took the liberty of adding our own initials beneath them.”

Qrow shook his head. “That … that was Summer’s idea,” he said. “She thought … it doesn’t matter. Kind of a waste of time, really, but knock yourselves out, I guess.”

“Ruby didn’t mention that you were coming to visit,” Sunset said.

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Why not?” asked Pyrrha.

“Because none of your business!” Qrow said sharply. “What is this, an interrogation? She doesn’t know, end of story.”

“But Qrow will certainly be paying his nieces a visit in the course of his stay here,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Qrow looked at her.

“Do you think that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos are going to keep your presence secret, when you’ve given them no reason to do so?” asked Professor Goodwitch.

Qrow sighed and pulled a hip flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a swig out of it. “This is not what I wanted Ruby’s school days to be like,” he repeated.

“From what I understand, this is pretty much what your school days were like,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah, why do you think I didn’t want it for Ruby?” Qrow asked. “This work, this war you’ve gotten yourselves into … some, it kills, and some, it breaks, and it leaves precious few unscathed. So I look at the two of you.”

He took a step towards them, a slightly swaying, slightly staggering step, and glanced rapidly between them, his red eyes flicking from Pyrrha to Sunset and then back again. “I look at you, and I find myself wondering which is which.”

Sunset’s hands clenched into fists.

“That’s enough, Qrow,” Professor Ozpin said before Sunset could say anything. “Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer, I expect you must be wondering why I called you here.”

“We were curious, Professor, yes,” Pyrrha said.

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin said, sounding weary all of a sudden. “When I enlightened the two of you, and Miss Dash and Miss Sparkle, I withheld certain pieces of information. Some of that information you have since learned, regarding the Maidens. However, there are still things that you do not know, and of some of those things I must enlighten you now. It is time.

“Some would say that it is past time.” Professor Ozpin blinked and looked down at his desk for a moment, letting silence fall in the office, broken only by the grinding gears of the clock above as they turned inexorably, heedlessly onwards. “The fact is, when Miss Fall named herself the Fall Maiden to you during your excursion in pursuit of Doctor Merlot, she lied, at least in part. Cinder Fall is not the true Fall Maiden.”

He rose to his feet. “Pyrrha Nikos, you have been chosen to become the next Fall Maiden.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. She found herself taking a step backward. She found that she was barely aware of anything or anyone else in the room besides herself and Professor Ozpin, whose words echoed through her mind.

Chosen to become the next Fall Maiden. That was … it was a great honour that she was being offered, there could be no doubting that. The Maidens of old, before they had been hidden away for their own good and for the good of the world, had been not only great warriors but prophets, teachers, leaders, figures of reverence, and she … she was found worthy — whether worthy by Professor Ozpin or by fate itself, she could not say, it was a great honour either way — to join their number? It was a great honour, a tremendous honour, an honour such as she would never again be offered in her life, and yet … and yet…

And yet.

And yet … what would it mean for her life? For it was not a Maiden as of old that she would become, but a Maiden whom Professor Ozpin and his allies hid away to keep safe from harm, to protect them from the malice of Salem but also to protect the world from the Maidens and what they might do.

What would that mean for her? Would she have to go into hiding? Would she be forced to leave Beacon, leave her friends, leave Jaune? How else was it to remain secret, what she had become? She could control the powers, she supposed; she was good at that, she had been doing it ever since she was a child, if there was anyone who could be discreet about their abilities that the world never suspected that she had them, then that person was Pyrrha Nikos. But that was a very risky hope to hang a matter of such secrecy upon, was it not?

She wanted this. She had not known she wanted it until it was placed before her, but now, like someone who doesn’t know that they’re hungry until they smell food being cooked in the next room, Pyrrha wanted this. Professor Ozpin was not just offering her great honour, he was offering her the ability to face the dark forces of Remnant that menaced humanity head, to do battle with things that a mere huntress could never hope to prevail against, possibly not even with the support of a team. Perhaps, as she was now, she could prevail against Cinder and her magic, but if she were the Fall Maiden, then how could the outcome be doubted? Would she not smite down evil and lay it to waste? Would she not guard so much that was good and worthy of protection? What could she not do, armed with a Maiden’s power?

If Professor Ozpin would let her use the powers he offered, then … then he was offering Pyrrha nothing less than her destiny itself. All that she had desired since she was young, all her ambitions, all her hopes … he offered all of them to her, here and now.

Yet still, she hesitated nonetheless. The fact that Pyrrha wanted this was no sign that she ought to take it. Some might argue that the reverse was true, that by wanting it so badly, it was a sign that she ought not to take it.

After all, if the person most to be trusted with power was one who did not seek it, then what did that say of the desire that had immediately lighted in her breast as though someone had flicked on a switch?

“Professor,” she said softly, “I … I don’t know if I’m worthy of this.”

“If you are not worthy, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, “then no one is.”

Qrow looked as though he might want to argue in favour of the latter case, but it was clear that no one in the room wished — or dared — to interrupt Ozpin in this moment. There was something sacral in the air that, for the moment, held them spellbound, a sense of a high priest dispensing a blessing to his acolyte.

Pyrrha felt very small, dwarfed by the majestic enormity of what was being asked of her: to take upon herself fully one quarter of the world’s magic, to become the latest link in a chain stretching back over a thousand years, to become … to become a Maiden.

I don’t know if I’m ready for this.

Does the world have time for me to be ready?

“How … how?” she asked softly.

“And how is Cinder not the Fall Maiden?” Sunset asked, breaking the spell. “If she’s actually one of the other Maidens, then why lie about it? And if not that, then where does her power come from?”

Professor Ozpin rubbed the space between his eyebrows with one hand. “The answer to both your questions are intertwined.” He stood up. “If you’ll come with me please.”

They all crowded into the elevator, Pyrrha and Sunset standing side by side at the back while Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow Branwen crowded in ahead of them.

It was a little snug within the lift, to be sure, but even cramped as they were, Pyrrha was still able to see Professor Ozpin pull out a key from his waistcoat pocket, which he used to open one of the locked side panels on the elevator cab wall, which Pyrrha had assumed was used for maintenance of some kind.

Instead, there was a button which he pressed.

“Where are we going, Professor?” Pyrrha asked.

“Down to the vault,” Professor Ozpin said. “Under the school.”

There’s a vault under the school? What kind of vault? Why is it under the school? Why is it a secret?

That last question sounded absurd the more she thought about it — she was here in the company of the other members of a secret society, was it any great surprise that they would have a secret location that they used for their own purposes?

Nevertheless, it was still a surprise to her.

Neither Ozpin nor Goodwitch nor Qrow nor General Ironwood said anything else to her as the lift descended. Their silence made Pyrrha hesitant to ask them anything in turn, though she had questions; she trusted that they would be answered in good time.

At the same time, she could not describe their silence as a comfortable one. It was tense, brittle, as if there was something that needed to be said but which they were all quite carefully not saying … or did not wish to say. The fact that Professor Goodwitch was looking at her with pity, while Qrow had something almost predatory in his gaze didn’t really help matters either. General Ironwood did not look at her — or would not.

They did not look as though they were about to bestow on Pyrrha some great honour; in fact, the longer it went on, the less Pyrrha was put in mind of a high priest dispensing a blessing and more of him laying the sacrifice upon the altar and preparing the knife.

She felt Sunset’s hand slip into hers and squeeze it gently.

“I’ve got your back,” Sunset said, with a faint smile on her face.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You know, it’s funny,” Sunset said. “There was a time when I would have given everything, absolutely everything, to be standing where you are now: to be told that I had been marked out for greatness, to be elevated above all others, chosen to receive great power and ascend to become something higher than a mere mortal. I guess that’s why nobody ever offers me anything like that, huh? They could see I wanted it too badly.”

Pyrrha glanced at the adults accompanying them, but none of them seemed inclined to comment on what Sunset was saying. It was as if they were capable of tuning out anything that Sunset and Pyrrha might say to one another, as though it was nothing to do with them at all.

“And … now?” Pyrrha asked. Now that I am standing where you are, do you hold it against me?

“Like I said,” Sunset said, “I’ve worked out why nobody ever offers me this kind of thing.” She was smiling, but there was a touch of sadness about it too. “If I couldn’t be a princess, if I couldn’t be … if I couldn’t be her student, then I thought … it was that or nothing, and so I ran away. I ran and ran chasing a destiny that I couldn’t accept was already gone beyond recall. I ran so far that I found you. I’m not going to run anymore. You’re stuck with me, hero.”

The well of gratitude that Pyrrha felt caused a smile to blossom on her face. “Thank you, Sunset, that means … that means a great deal. Yet, all the same … I can’t help but feel that I’m stealing something from you.”

Sunset shook her head. “This is your moment. Your ascension. You’re about to become something more than most people could ever dream of. This hour is yours, not something for me to take away from you. I’ll just have to be the best huntress I can be and hope that’s enough to escape the shadow of your wings.”

“My wings?”

“I’ll explain later if you’re still interested,” Sunset said.

He mostly had his back to her, but it seemed as though Professor Ozpin was smiling as he listened to their exchange without interrupting it.

“So how does it feel?” Sunset continued. “Knowing that you’re about to ascend.”

“You keep saying that as though I’m about to transform,” Pyrrha said, “like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly.”

“Sorry, it’s an old habit from back home; it’s just the way I think about it,” Sunset said. “But how does it feel?”

“It’s … it’s a little intimidating,” Pyrrha confessed. “I just wish I understood what this would mean for me.”

She had said that a little louder, in the hope that Professor Ozpin might give her an answer for it.

He didn’t.

Pyrrha looked into Sunset’s eyes and tried to convey with her gaze her confusion about why everyone had suddenly turned so taciturn.

“It’s going to be fine,” Sunset said. “You can do this. And whatever happens next, you’ll still have us.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath in and out, centring herself. “Thank you.”

“Any time.”

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened. Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow all got out, leaving Pyrrha and Sunset to follow them out, more slowly and more warily than the authority figures who had gone before.

They emerged from out of the lift into what was presumably the vault beneath the school that Professor Ozpin had spoken of, and it must have been far indeed beneath the school, considering how high up the ceiling was; in fact, the ceiling was so high that it receded into the darkness and could barely be seen.

Sunset got out her scroll, and looking at it, Pyrrha could see that there was no signal. They really were a very long way down.

And in what must be one of the largest structures in the school, what is more.

Perhaps it was just the fact that Pyrrha’s mind had been pointed in that direction already, but there was a grave sepulchral feeling to this vast, expansive place: the ceiling was high and vaulted, while the vault itself took the form of a long transept lined with colonnades on either side. Sconces set onto the columns burned with green fire — or at least the appearance of the same — that cast the dark enclave in a soft emerald light.

“Students,” Professor Ozpin called, turning back to face them. “Please, don’t dawdle.”

All of the other teachers and Qrow had stopped to wait for them; Qrow in particular looked rather impatient.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Pyrrha said as she led the way and Sunset followed on behind. That was something she might have to get used to, if she went through with this: people following her.

Professor Goodwitch gave her a sympathetic smile as she started to catch up. “I’m sure you have questions.”

“You’ve heard two of them already,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Before that, there are things that you must understand,” Professor Ozpin said from the front of the group as he once more led the way down the long transept. “In your research, you were not able to ascertain how the powers of a Maiden were passed down from one to another.”

“I worked out that you could get the powers by killing the previous Maiden, Professor,” Sunset said. “The stories were quite clear about that.”

“And yet the stories were not entirely accurate,” Professor Ozpin said. “The rules by which the mantle of the Maiden passes from one to another are straightforward, more so than you might think: the person who is in the previous Maiden’s last thoughts before she dies will inherit her mantle as the new Maiden of that season. Provided, of course, that they are eligible.”

“Meaning no dudes allowed, and no old hags either,” Qrow commented.

“Or another Maiden,” Professor Goodwitch added. “Just as summer and winter cannot be at the same time and the same place, neither can the mantles of two Maidens exist in the same body.”

“Not naturally, in any case,” Professor Ozpin said darkly, but he refused to elaborate on exactly what he meant.

“It’s not uncommon for the last thoughts of the slain to be of their attacker,” General Ironwood said. “So killing a Maiden is an unfortunately reliable way of claiming their mantle, but it isn’t foolproof.”

“And if the person last in the Maiden’s thoughts is someone ineligible?” Sunset asked. “Husband, brother, son, their aged spinster aunt … what then?”

“The power chooses,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“So in the legends, when it says that God chose some girl from the back end of nowhere,” Sunset said, “that was actually just chance?”

“It was better to come up with some explanation to stop people from working out the real rules too easily, don’t you think?” Qrow said.

“Even though they are now in hiding,” Professor Ozpin said, “the role of the Maidens remains crucial to the safety and wellbeing of Remnant and its kingdoms. Do you remember me telling you of the four relics left by the gods, which Salem is seeking?”

“Knowledge, Choice, Destruction, and Creation,” Pyrrha said.

“Exactly, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “Each relic belongs to one of the four kingdoms: Choice for Vale, Knowledge for Mistral, Creation for Atlas, and Destruction for Vacuo. Each relic is held in a specific location, a location that can only be opened by one of the four Maidens.”

“Winter for Creation,” Qrow said. “Spring for Knowledge, Summer for Destruction, and Fall for Choice.”

Fall for Choice. Choice for Vale. Fall for Vale. Pyrrha stopped. “You mean … if I become the Fall Maiden … I won’t ever be able to go home, will I?”

Professor Ozpin stopped too, and looked back at her with a solemn look. “The Maidens are needed not only to reach the relics, but also to protect them. Like defending humanity against the grimm, it is a watch that does not cease.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “I … I see.” That’s it then. No more white towers gleaming as they are struck by the first rays of dawn, no more river cascading down the mountainside to water the fields all around, no more standing on one of the upper levels and looking out at all the fertile land stretching out in all directions, no more climbing up from circle to circle getting higher and higher every time. No more Mistral. No more home.

“That … that doesn’t seem…” Sunset trailed off for a moment. “Is it the location they’re tied to, or the relic itself?”

“What’s the difference?” asked Qrow.

“I mean, couldn’t you swap the relics around so that Choice is in Mistral instead?”

“Sunset, it’s alright,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha lied. “After all, you left your home to pursue a higher calling; why shouldn’t I do the same?”

“I left my home because I was a spoiled brat who hadn’t heard the word ‘no’ nearly often enough,” Sunset muttered. “But never mind that, I just … this isn’t what I imagined.”

It wasn’t exactly what Pyrrha had imagined either, but there was nothing to be done about that and nothing for it. Destiny was calling to her, and if she refused the trumpets now, then they might never sound again. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she said, as she started walking again. “Please go on.”

Professor Ozpin nodded gravely. “The situation that we are in now is … rather unique,” he said. “In fact, I daresay it is completely unprecedented.”

“I don’t understand,” Pyrrha said.

“The Fall Maiden was attacked by an assailant who we now know to be Cinder Fall,” Professor Ozpin said. “That is, sadly, far from unheard of, but what Miss Fall did is: she stole some of the Fall Maiden’s power.”

“'Some'?” Pyrrha said. “You mean that the magic we saw her carry out was just a part of what a Maiden is capable of?”

“Does that worry you?” Professor Goodwitch asked. “Because it certainly worries all of us.”

“Does that mean the Fall Maiden is still alive?” Sunset asked. “Cinder stole some of her power, but she didn’t kill her.”

“No,” Professor Ozpin said. “The Fall Maiden lives … for now.”

“If you can really call it living,” Qrow muttered.

“What do you—?” Pyrrha stopped with a gasp, because they had come to the end of the long transept now, and to the far wall that marked the end of the vault.

There, beneath a rose window — or at least something that looked like a rose window, even though there was nothing to see beyond it nor any light to be admitted through it — sat some kind of device, two metal and glass pods joined together by a mass of thick wires and cables, while monitors produced a plenitude of readouts.

Inside one of the pods, clearly visible through the large glass window that took up at least a third of the pod’s front, was a girl. She was young, perhaps even younger than Pyrrha herself, with a dusky complexion and dark brown hair in a bob with a long fringe that completely hid her forehead and even her eyebrows from view.

Someone had undressed her and put her in what looked like hospital underclothes that exposed all but her most intimate parts to public view, so that just looking at her seemed almost indecent. Yet Pyrrha could not look away. She felt drawn to her, and not only because she was one of the only points of life and light in this dark place. She could not look away, nor could she stop. She walked slowly past Professor Ozpin and all the rest and towards this girl in the metal and glass pod. Her eyes were shut, and her heart-shaped face was ravaged by a mass of scars that criss-crossed across her visage as though Cinder had taken a butcher’s knife — or one of those obsidian blades of hers — to carve her up in envy of her good looks.

Are these the actions of a Mistralian warrior, Cinder? Is this how my namesake would treat her enemies? Is this our Mistralian honour, is this how the best and the bravest conduct themselves?

Is this what lies behind your airs and manners?

I knew that you had ambushed her, but this … what purpose does such cruelty serve?

“This…” she murmured. “Is this…?”

“Amber,” Professor Ozpin said. “The Fall Maiden.”

Pyrrha felt, rather than saw, Sunset draw close behind her.

“Cinder did this to her?” Sunset said. She sounded as though she couldn’t believe — or didn’t want to believe — that Cinder would be capable of such a thing.

I quite understand. I would rather not believe it myself.

“It appears so,” Professor Ozpin said. “The magic that she wielded could only have come from a single source.”

“What did she do?” Sunset asked quietly, sounding rather reluctant as though she did not particularly wish to know the answer.

“We’re not sure,” Qrow admitted. “There wasn’t time to … we don’t know. But it’s bad.”

Pyrrha stared at her, at Amber, at the Fall Maiden they wanted her to… “Wait,” Pyrrha said. “If Amber is still alive, then—”

“Because she’s dying,” General Ironwood said. “This is state of the art medical technology, and it’s only buying us time.”

“None of us knows exactly what will happen to the remainder of the Fall Maiden’s power when Amber dies,” Professor Goodwitch said, “but none of the options are good.”

“The best case, she wasn’t thinking of anyone eligible, and the power goes to someone random we have to try and find before Cinder catches up to them,” Qrow said, “but the last thing Amber saw was Cinder sucking the power out of her, so how likely do you think it is that her attacker isn’t the last thing on her mind?”

“That is, if the power doesn’t simply seek to reunite itself in a single vessel as intended,” Professor Ozpin said. “Which brings us back to Cinder once again.”

“Two out of three chances this power ends up in the hands of one of Salem’s pawns,” Qrow said. “Not good. In fact, it’s exactly the reason why the Maidens are kept secret in the first place.”

“If they’re so secret, then how did Cinder find her?” Sunset said.

“Amber was … is … young and inexperienced,” Professor Ozpin said. “Mistakes were made, and a great price was paid for them.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Professor … how is it that she … why isn’t her aura regenerating, healing her injuries?”

“Amber’s aura was … damaged in the attack,” Professor Ozpin said.

“Aura is damaged in battle, Professor,” Pyrrha said, “but it always restores itself with rest and—”

“Not in this case,” Professor Ozpin told her. “Just as Amber’s magic was split in two, so her aura has been torn asunder, ripped like a frayed tapestry, and like such a frayed tapestry, it is unravelling, unable to regenerate. Eventually, there will be nothing left. As General Ironwood said, we are buying time, nothing more.”

“Could Jaune do something?” Pyrrha suggested. “His semblance—”

“Might strengthen what remains of Amber’s aura, and perhaps buy her a little more time,” Professor Ozpin conceded, “but Mister Arc’s semblance does not have the power to undo the damage that has been done to Amber’s aura, and so it will continue to degrade, no matter much it is enhanced by artificial means.”

“I see,” Pyrrha whispered, as she looked once more into Amber’s stricken face, “but I still don’t see. If everything that you’d told me is true, then how am I supposed to become your Fall Maiden?”

Neither Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, nor Qrow spoke. They all looked expectantly at General Ironwood, expecting him to speak. He did not speak either, at least not for a few moments. “In the last few years, Atlas has begun to research aura from a more scientific standpoint. We have made significant progress, including this device which we believe can be used to extract aura and insert it into something else … or someone.”

“Sweet Celestia,” Sunset whispered. “You … you…” She looked at Ozpin and his cohorts, her mouth moving silently. “You can’t do this! You can’t just rip a soul out of its body and cram it into a new one! It’s wrong, it’s immoral, it’s … sacrilege. What happens to the person at the other end? What’s going to happen to Pyrrha?”

“We don’t know what will happen,” General Ironwood said. “This will be the first time using this device in this way.”

“Believe me, this is not a choice that I would make if I had any other choice,” Professor Ozpin said. “As you’ve heard, Miss Nikos, we don’t know what will happen to you. It may be that nothing will. But it is likely that there will be some effects from the joining of your life with that of Amber. You may be … changed, in some way. You may … you may no longer be yourself at all.”

Pyrrha understood exactly what he meant. If I get into this machine, then Pyrrha may die, and Amber may walk away in my body. The thought made her shudder. She glanced at Amber and saw her own face reflected back at her in the glass, superimposed on Amber’s own; she flinched away from it, clutching herself for comfort.

“You can’t do this,” Sunset growled. “You can’t do this; I won’t let you!”

“It’s not your choice,” Qrow said.

“Maybe I’m making it my choice!” Sunset yelled. “Sometimes, you get involved in things that aren’t your business because it’s the right thing, or to stop the wrong thing. This is immoral, and I won’t allow it.”

“Miss Shimmer—” Professor Ozpin began.

“I trusted you,” Sunset snarled, which made Professor Ozpin flinch away as though he was physically hurt by her words.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said, her voice gentle, and soft, and small, but enough to rise above Sunset’s anger nonetheless. “It’s really very sweet of you, but I don’t need you to defend me like this.”

“The fact that you say that makes me think you do,” Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha cast one last look at the dying Amber and gently raised her hand to place it on the glass and stroke it as if she could touch the face of the slumbering girl. She had a lovely face, for all her scars.

Either Amber would die, or she would, it seemed; or else, they would both die as the world knew or had known them, and what emerged would be some hybrid of the two, neither Pyrrha nor Amber, but an amalgam of their natures fused together.

“This is your choice, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “No one can force you to do this. And no one will. You know what is at stake, and what is at risk, and you must decide what you will do next.”

“And if she says no?” Sunset said. “What will you do then?”

“Then the power will fall into the hands of Cinder,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Not necessarily,” Professor Ozpin said. “If you do not wish to take this step, then I will have to find someone else.”

But who, Professor? Who will you turn to if I … if I decline this great honour that you have deemed me worthy of? If I say no, if I refuse you, if I will not do it, if I would rather live as myself than become the Fall Maiden, what then? Who then?

Will it be Blake? Will Blake Belladonna be snuffed out ere she sets eyes on Atlas again, and all her promise with her? Her transfer papers rendered meaningless, all her hopes…

Will it be Rainbow Dash, climbing into this device because she has such faith in General Ironwood, and he would never lead her astray, so she will follow his orders, though they be the death of all she is?

Will it be someone else, someone who doesn’t know all that we know? Will it be Yang? Will Ren and Nora be separated from another teammate? Yang is nearly as strong as I am, as brave as I am, more of a leader than I am, strong enough to take on the burden of the world, no matter the risk.

Or will it be Ruby? Will it be brave Ruby who would climb into this infernal machine without a second’s hesitation because it is the right thing to do, because there is no sacrifice she would not make for the greater good, even the sacrifice of her very soul?

She had been blessed to know so many wonderful people since she came to Beacon. So many brave and talented people, so many kind people, so many strong people, so many people who were as fit as she to take up the mantle of a Maiden, who were as worthy of the honour as she, who were as…

Who were as little deserving to be damned as she, or less, far less deserving of oblivion.

Which means that I have little choice. As much as her dream of destiny had become something of a nightmare, that didn’t give her the right to walk away when the right thing to do was to face it regardless, especially when the consequence was that this cup would pass to the lips of a friend, a comrade.

She could not let that happen. She could not condemn someone she knew, or even someone that she did not, even if Professor Ozpin were to turn to someone like Weiss Schnee or Lyra Heartstrings, then still, though Pyrrha had less affection for them, still it would not be right to condemn them simply because she was not willing to take the step herself.

That was not the action of a hero; rather, it was the shameful deed of a coward, and whatever else Pyrrha might be, she was not, she hoped, a coward.

This was her destiny. This was what she had dreamed of, sought after; this was the path that she had wished to walk, had set herself to walk: to protect the world, to guard it as its great defender, to be its hero.

She had not envisaged it happening in quite this way, but one could not anticipate the exact shape of one’s final goal. Though it would cost her everything … it would cost her just as much to turn away now.

This is what I wanted; I cannot pass it on to someone else.

What gifts hath fate for all her chivalry? None but hearts heroic oftenest win.

Anguish, and an early grave, just as you said, Cinder.

Well, if that is my fate … better me than another.

“I’ll do it,” Pyrrha said, though her voice trembled even as she tried to make it ring out across the vault. “I’ll become your Fall Maiden, or … or try to, at least.”

What am I suited for, if not for this?

“Pyrrha,” Sunset said. She grasped at Pyrrha’s shoulders and stared pleadingly upwards into Pyrrha’s eyes. “Don’t do this. You heard what they said; you heard what this could do to you, and you heard them say that they can’t make you do this.”

“But someone must,” Pyrrha said. “Or else Cinder … or else Salem will have one of the four Maidens, she’ll be able to get one of the four Relics; we can’t just let that happen, I can’t just let that happen. This … this must be done, and since it must be done, then … then better done by me than by … someone else.” She looked Professor Ozpin square in the face. “I’ll do it.”

Professor Ozpin did not meet her eyes. Perhaps he could bring himself to do so. “I am in awe of your courage, Miss Nikos, but there is no need to act quite so rashly. Although time is short, there is enough for you to take some time to think on this matter carefully. Take that time, take a few days, until the end of the week. Then, I am afraid, I will need your answer.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The art in this chapter is by Jindianjun000

There weren't a huge number of changes to this chapter, which I already liked a lot, the biggest one being the absence of Twilight and Rainbow Dash.

Not Even For the World (Rewritten)

Not Even For the World

“You can’t do this!” Sunset snapped, in a voice that was taut and whiplike.

“I have no choice,” Pyrrha said, her own voice soft, barely rising above the level of a whisper.

The two of them were in the garage with the door shut; it was one of the few places they could speak — or yell, in Sunset’s case — without being overheard by anyone. It wouldn’t do to go on the rooftop and let Weiss and her team hear what they were discussing now. This was supposed to be secret after all, no matter how much Sunset might be shouting.

“Stop saying that you have no choice; you do have a choice!” Sunset yelled. “You can tell them to go take a flying leap off a cloud, and you should.”

“And then what?” Pyrrha asked. She wasn’t looking at Sunset. She was sat near the closed door, knees tucked up almost beneath her chin, while Sunset paced up and down behind her. Pyrrha turned her head slightly, but not enough to see Sunset. “Yes, I can say no, but what then? What right do I have to let this cup pass from my lips only so that it can be drunk by someone else? By … Blake, Rainbow Dash, Yang, Ruby perhaps? What right do I have to tell Ruby that she has to sacrifice herself because I have not the courage?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “They could all say no too,” she said. Pyrrha wondered if that sounded as pathetic to Sunset as it did to her.

“But they won’t,” Pyrrha replied. A sad smile briefly crossed her face. “You know that they will not. Ruby, for one, certainly will not. She is too brave, too—”

“Foolish.”

“Selfless,” Pyrrha corrected. “It is not folly but selflessness that would drive her to this, and Blake besides, maybe, and…” She closed her eyes. “And that is why I must do this. I have no right to force this burden onto another. I can’t — I won’t — make a friend do something that I was not willing to do myself.” She hugged her legs, embracing them with both her arms. “This burden has been appointed to me. I must bear it to whatever end.”

“'To whatever end,'” Sunset spat, as though the words were offensive to her. “To the end of your death? We’re talking about your aura, your soul.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then how can you act like this?” Sunset demanded. “How can you just sit there and consider this? No, more than consider; you’ve already made up your mind! And don’t talk about Ruby, because if Ruby were here, then I’d tell her exactly what I’m about to tell you now: this is monstrous, and even considering it is … it’s unforgivable. Heinous. They say that they don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know. You can’t just rip the essence out of somebody and cram it into somebody else and expect there to be no change at all. Pyrrha, this…” Her voice shook and threatened to break completely. “This thing is going to kill you in every way that matters. If you get into that machine, then … then somebody else is going to walk away. Maybe Amber, maybe something new, but not you. You’re not going to become the Fall Maiden, you’re going to give up your body as a suit for the new Fall Maiden to wear; is that what you want?”

“Of course not!” Pyrrha shrieked, and her semblance exploded out of her to send Sunset’s bike flying across the garage to hit the far with a slamming thump.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha whispered.

“Don’t be,” Sunset said. “It’s just a stupid bike.”

Pyrrha let out a ragged breath. She felt something wet on her cheeks and realised that she was crying. “What I want,” she whispered, halfway to sobbing. “No, no, this isn’t what I want at all.”

I want Jaune. I want him to hold me and kiss me and love me. I want him to ask me for my hand. I want Ruby and Sunset to weave the flowers into my hair upon my wedding day. I want to have children, and to watch them grow and teach them to be brave and strong and kind like their parents.

I want to live. I want to laugh, I want to cry, I want to feel.

I want to live and love to be loved.

But why should fate, or the world, or even Professor Ozpin care for what I want when kingdoms are at stake?

“Sunset?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“Do you think he’ll be able to tell?” Pyrrha asked.

On the one hand, it was a small thing, almost pathetically so, to focus on, but at the same time, it seemed at this moment, staring oblivion in the face, to be the most important thing that she could ask.

Sunset was quiet as she walked around from behind Pyrrha to stand in front of her. She crouched down so that they were face to face. “Do I think who will be able to tell what?”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “If I … if you’re right about this, and I … if it’s not me anymore … do you think he’ll be able to tell? Will he notice that I’m gone and … and something else is standing in front of him?”

Whoever took Pyrrha’s place, if that was what happened — be it Amber or a new … someone entirely new, not either of them — they might find it convenient to pretend to be Pyrrha in the eyes of the world.

The thought of someone else wearing her body was bad enough, but to imagine them doing it while Jaune, none the wiser, held this impostor in his arms and left her breathless with his kisses and maybe even … it was too much for her. She could not bear it. She could give up her life for the sake of the world, but the world’s cause could not ask her to surrender her love to another who happened to look like her.

Sunset looked sick, but then she’d looked like that ever since they got out of the vault. “He’ll know,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“How?” Pyrrha asked.

“I don’t know, by looking into your eyes!” Sunset snapped. “By the lack of a spark when he touches your hand. Isn’t that how true love is supposed to work? Isn’t there supposed to be a thing so you can tell?”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “I think that’s just a romantic myth.”

“Oh,” Sunset said. “He’ll know.”

“You don’t know that, do you?” Pyrrha said. “You’re just saying it to make me feel better.”

“I’ve got no interest in making you feel better, only in making you realise what a stupid idea this is,” Sunset growled. “I’m telling you because it’s true. He’ll know.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because he loves you for you!” Sunset snapped. “Do you honestly think he’s so shallow that it’s your face and your body that are the only thing he notices about you? He’ll know because you won’t be the person that he fell in love with anymore. You won’t be the person that we all love anymore. Please, Pyrrha, don’t do this.”

“I have—”

“Don’t sit there and tell me that you have no choice when we both know that’s a load of crap!” Sunset yelled. “You don’t have to do this—”

“But someone does,” Pyrrha insisted.

“Do they?” Sunset said, getting up and stalking to the garage door.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “You know that. Cinder cannot be allowed to assume the whole and entire power of the Fall Maiden, Salem cannot be allowed to have unfettered access to one of the four Relics; Professor Ozpin won’t allow that to happen, someone will have to take up this great charge, and I … I have been chosen for it. Professor Ozpin chose me, asked me, first of all; why should he do that, if not because I am the most suited, the best to bear this burden? And, that being so, how can I pass this poisoned mantle on to another?

“The world is in danger, Sunset, and it needs me.”

“Screw the world, and screw the Relic, too!” Sunset shouted.

Pyrrha shook her head. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered. “I hope that you don’t mean that.”

Sunset turned to face her. “You mean more to me than they do. I make no apologies for that.”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “If I mean so much to you, then please, don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

Sunset stared at her, her mouth twisting into a kind of snarl with the teeth bared. “Why do you have to be so stupidly noble all the time?”

“Because ten thousand fates of death surround us—”

“Don’t quote poetry at me; answer me in your own words!”

“Very well, my life is put at risk by my chosen vocation, so what makes this manner of passing so special that you should recoil from it and I should do likewise?” Pyrrha demanded. “I chose to become a huntress that I might serve the world and those who live in it, as a protector, as a guardian, as a shepherd of the people. This … this is not how I expected to fulfil my destiny, but it is my destiny nonetheless.”

“Death is not your destiny.”

“It appears that isn’t true,” Pyrrha said quietly. “As much as I might wish otherwise.”

“You told me that your destiny was in your gift,” Sunset said. “Your choice.”

“And I choose this,” Pyrrha insisted. “I choose not to pass this choice onto another! I choose to stand between the world and its enemies. I choose to answer the call. I choose to take up the burden. I choose … I choose to do something that is more important than anything else I could ever do, though I live for a hundred years from hence. We are huntsmen and huntresses, we are all called upon to risk our lives in battle; if I say no, if I turn away from the battle now, when it is at its gravest, how could I look any of my fellow students in the eye ever again?”

“Nobody would know,” Sunset said.

“I would know!” Pyrrha cried. “And I would be shamed before myself for shrinking from the fighting.” She turned away, embracing herself. “You say … you say that whatever comes out of that machine will not be me … but if I did not climb into it in the first place, I would not be myself either.”

“Is there nothing I can say?” Sunset asked, her voice hollow. “Nothing at all that will convince you?”

“You cannot tell me anything that I don’t already know,” Pyrrha whispered. “I know what I’m being asked to do, I know that it will cost me … everything. But I also know that … that I’m the only one who ought to do this.”

Sunset made a grunting, moaning sound as though she were in physical pain. “Why … why do you have to be like this? What are you going to tell Jaune?”

“I … I don’t know,” Pyrrha confessed. “I’m not sure if I can tell him.”

“You have to tell him something,” Sunset said.

“What?” Pyrrha asked, as she rounded on Sunset. “What am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth?”

“He won’t understand any more than you do.”

“Perhaps that makes him smarter than you.”

“Sunset, will you please stop!” Pyrrha shrieked. “Do you think that this is easy for me? Do you think that this is anything like how I thought my life would … this isn’t how things were supposed to go. Not at all. I was supposed to achieve my destiny upon my own merits, with the support of my friends, but this … this is where my road has led, and I have to see it through, all the way to the end.”

Sunset stared at her. “Please … please tell me that this isn’t about your confidence, because I thought that you—”

“This is not about my confidence,” Pyrrha insisted. “It’s not about Cinder, or Salem, or magic or anything else, this isn’t some desperate attempt on my part to matter in a world that is grown too big for me, this … this is important. This is something that I choose to do because it is the right thing to do, because it is required of me, because I will not step back and let another take the blow in my stead.”

Sunset’s eyes were wide, large; she had large eyes, but now, they seemed particularly large. “Is there … nothing that I might say that will convince you otherwise?”

“No,” Pyrrha whispered. “Sunset … this time that we’ve spent together—”

“Don’t talk like that already; you don’t—”

“Has been the most wonderful time in my life,” Pyrrha finished. “I’m so, so glad to have met all of you. More than I think I could ever tell you.”

“Stop.”

“I need you to hear this.”

“Well, I don’t want to hear it! Why should I stand here and listen to you get your dying speech off your chest when all you have to do is choose to live?”

“Sunset—”

“No, don’t ‘Sunset’ me in that tone of reproach; you don’t seem to realise what you’re asking me to do!” Sunset shouted. “You’re asking me to watch you die! How do you expect me to feel about that? Do you have any idea how much I want to scream at you right now? Do you know how much I want to shake you and remind you of all the wonderful things that you’re about to give up for nothing? There are a million reasons not to go through with this, and not one good reason to do it so…” Sunset let out a wordless scream of anguish. “I … I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t stand here and talk about this anymore!” Sunset yelled. “I can’t even look at you right now, I’m just so … goodbye.”

Sunset was engulfed in a flash of green light, disappearing from the garage with a distinctive popping sound.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “I … I’m sorry, Sunset. I really am.”

Of course, in one thing, Sunset was quite correct: she ought to tell Jaune. In fact, Pyrrha would go so far as to say that she had an obligation to tell Jaune. To not tell him, to say nothing, to climb into that glass coffin, to embrace whatever fate awaited her, it … it would be too cruel. Worse than cruel, perhaps.

He could not change her mind. She … not hoped, perhaps — that was entirely the wrong word — rather, she … she did not know the right word; she feared that if he asked her not to do this, then she could not resist him. Her heart would not stand up to it, her resolve would not stand up to it; in the face of his entreaties, she might crumble.

She did not want that. She … she wished, yes, that was the right word, she wished to be strong enough to stand up to it, to do what was right regardless. She did not wish love to make her a coward.

Though to be brave would mean the death of love and all her dreams besides.

This is not what I want, but nevertheless, it is what I must do.

Perhaps … perhaps Jaune will understand that. Perhaps he will see what Sunset cannot.

Although I do not think it likely.

He had understood her desire to confront Cinder, despite the risk, but this … Sunset had also managed to respect her choice to confront Cinder, despite the risk, but this had broken Sunset’s resolve, so why should this be different for Jaune?

He would not like this.

And yet she owed him some explanation, not merely for the promises that she had made to him but also … also for mere common decency’s sake.

And for the sake of herself, it must be admitted; she did not want him, in ignorance, to carry on a relationship with whatever might be inhabiting her body when this was done.

Perhaps that was unworthy of her; perhaps she ought to trust him more, but … was she not entitled to her fear, without judgement of it or judgement of what it meant she judged of Jaune? She was giving up her soul for the greater good; she was allowed, she thought, to be a little concerned with what would be done with her body.

In any case, she owed Jaune an explanation.

She owed Jaune something.

She got out her scroll, fishing it out of a pouch on her belt, and texted Jaune, asking him to meet her … not here, not in this garage. She had spent too long here already, arguing with Sunset; the sight of it was becoming as hateful to her as the sight of Pyrrha had become for Sunset at the end. She wanted to get out of here, she wanted to leave this place, she wanted some fresh air, and so she texted Jaune to meet her at the cliffs, where there would be no one around to overhear them.

The message sent, she left the garage, escaping out of the dark and enclosed space and out into the sunlight.

The air was crisp, fall had fallen upon them now in truth, but there were few clouds in the sky, it was blue and clear, and it was only Atlesian warships that blocked the blue, and then only for mere moments ere they flew onwards.

The leaves had turned golden, falling from the trees, drifting lazily down in Pyrrha’s path as she walked down the paved ways, away from the Emerald Tower, away from the buildings, away from all of it; her boots occasionally stepping upon a leaf, and then upon the grass as she walked across the still-verdant green towards the cliff edge.

There was little air, no breeze to tug at her long ponytail, or at her crimson sash, which both hung limp behind her or at her side.

She stood upon the cliffs, taking what might be one of her last sights across this vast vista, at the Emerald Forest spread out beneath her and the mountains far off in the distance.

Would I were in Mistral, that my last sight could be the sight of home, the view from the walls, from the high slopes, the hills and vales spread out before me.

Or perhaps I should like to go out onto the hills, and visit Chiron in his cottage, and talk to Chariclo, and then look out one last time at Mistral rising up before me, and the White Tower rising above all the rest.

I want … I want so much more than this.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging.

She found that she was crying.

Pyrrha wiped at her eyes with one gloved thumb, the tears fell regardless, though she wiped them away more took their place.

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha gasped, half turning around, twisting her waist to see Jaune standing behind her, a few feet away, watching her.

He smiled, but there was something uncertain about his smile, as though he could already tell that something was amiss.

“I got your text,” he said, holding up his scroll. “I thought that you and Sunset were still with Professor Ozpin, since neither of you came back. I left Penny with Ruby; she’s showing her one of those games that your Mistralian friend got her into.” He took another step closer, his brow furrowing, his eyes narrowing. “Pyrrha … are you crying?”

Pyrrha turned away from him, not answering.

She felt Jaune behind her, pressing himself against her, putting his arms around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. “Hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

“How—?”

“The tears kind of give it away,” Jaune told her. “How can I help?”

Pyrrha closed her eyes, resting her hands upon his arms as they enfolded her. “You are helping,” she whispered. “You’ve already helped me so much.” She smiled. “You have made me so happy. Thank you, Jaune.”

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “Did something happen with Professor Ozpin? Is that … what’s going on?”

Pyrrha was silent a moment, eyes closed, a smile upon her face. She opened her eyes, looking down at Jaune’s arms, at his hands upon her stomach, at her hands resting on his.

She turned her head towards him, but … but she could hardly bring herself to look at him; she kept her eyes instead upon his hands, even as their cheeks were practically touching. “I wish … I wish that we could stay like this forever.”

“Okay, now you’re really starting to freak me out,” Jaune declared. “Pyrrha, what happened up there? What is all this?”

Pyrrha hesitated just a moment longer. She might not be able to stay like this forever, but she could at least stay like this for just a couple of seconds more.

But then those seconds passed, and she gently peeled Jaune’s arms away from her, and he retreated a step so that she could turn around and face him, looking upwards slightly into his eyes.

“I … there’s something that I have to do,” she said. “I don’t want to, but I must.”

“What is it?” Jaune asked. “Why do you have to do it if you don’t want to?”

“Cinder … is not the Fall Maiden,” Pyrrha said. “At least, not completely. She attacked the Fall Maiden, stole some of her power, but she didn’t kill her. The Fall Maiden is … still alive, barely. But she’s dying. Professor Ozpin … he wants me to take the rest of the Fall Maiden’s power, to keep it safe.”

Jaune stared at her, incomprehension in his eyes. “I … take the power how?”

“There is a machine,” Pyrrha said softly, a little slowly, picking her words as though she were picking her way through a cavern that might collapse on her at any moment. “An Atlesian device. They mean to use it to extract Amber’s aura — Amber is the Fall Maiden — and … give it to me, and her magic along with it.”

“Give you her aura,” Jaune murmured. “You mean like my semblance?”

“No, your semblance stimulates my aura, or the aura of whoever you use it on, strengthening it, but it’s still my aura ultimately,” Pyrrha replied. “This will…” She sought for a word that sounded less sinister than ‘insert.’ “This will place Amber’s aura inside me.”

Jaune’s mouth opened, and hung that way a second before he said, “That doesn’t … what does that mean, what will that do?”

“No one knows,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I asked you to meet me here because … because there’s a chance that … that after it’s done, I … I won’t be myself anymore.”

“Not … then … who—?”

“They aren’t sure,” Pyrrha said. “Maybe I’ll be … maybe Amber, maybe someone new, a mix of both of us. Maybe I’ll still be me, and this is all overblown, but I had to tell you because—”

“Don’t,” Jaune said, cutting her off. “Don’t do this; it’s too dangerous.”

“Much that we do is dangerous.”

“I know, but this? You can’t fight back against this; this is … this is something you’ll be letting happen.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha whispered. “Yes, I will—”

“But why? You shouldn’t!”

“You sound like Sunset.”

“Sunset sounds right,” Jaune replied. “Why—?”

“Because if I refuse, then Professor Ozpin will turn to someone else,” Pyrrha said. “Why should I allow someone to take my place?”

“It’s not your place, it’s not anyone’s place, it’s…” Jaune trailed off for a moment. “Ozpin doesn’t have the right to ask anyone to do this, but just because he’ll ask someone doesn’t mean you have to say yes when he asks you! Pyrrha, I … I don’t want to lose you.”

Pyrrha closed her eyes once again, screwing them tight shut, so tight that no light came in through them. “I don’t want to lose you either,” she whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaune said, his voice hoarse with phlegm as he embraced her once more, holding her tight, pressing her against his chest as if by holding, he could physically keep her away from Amber and the machine down in the vault. “That’s why I’m asking you, please don’t do this.”

Pyrrha did not respond. She wanted to look away, but she could not tear her eyes away from him. This was what she had been afraid of, that he would ask her to turn away, and she … she would…

It was hard. Harder than it was to refuse Sunset, much harder. The way that he was looking at her, the way that he was holding her, she wanted to say that no, she would not do it, she wanted to say that, for him, she would refuse Professor Ozpin, she wanted, and yet, she did not want to yield to him.

She wanted to be with him, and yet, if she turned aside from this for his sake, then she would be unworthy of him, would she not? She would be a coward, contemptible, despicable.

She would be worthy of nothing but scorn and the hatred of all those who suffered because she had forced this burden on another.

“I … if I don’t, would I still be the girl you love?” she asked him softly, so softly.

“Yes,” Jaune replied emphatically. “Of course you would; who else would you be?”

“Weak?” Pyrrha suggested. “Afraid? How can I refuse this simply because I don’t like the consequences?”

Jaune stared at her, silently. With one hand, reached up and stroked her face. Pyrrha closed her eyes, leaning into the palm of his hand as he cupped her cheek.

“You’re so … so brave,” he whispered. “You’re too brave, much too brave.”

Pyrrha turned her head slightly and kissed the palm of his hand, or at least the glove that covered it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“I know,” Jaune replied. “When?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha said. “Professor Ozpin gave me until the end of the week to make my decision, but—”

“Good,” Jaune said, embracing her with both arms once again. “That’s good, because … because that gives me time. Time to hold you close, and hope to everything that’s good you change your mind. And do everything I can to make sure you do.”

“And … and if I don’t?”

Pyrrha felt Jaune’s hold upon her tighten a little.

“Then … then I’ll just have to hold on to you and not let you go,” Jaune said. “I won’t let you go, Pyrrha.

“I can’t let you go.”

Sunset teleported into the SAPR dorm room.

She hadn’t gone there straight away. No, after leaving the garage, she had teleported onto a secluded patch of the grounds and then proceeded to make her way down into the Emerald Forest and spent at least half an hour tearing up the place, blasting trees apart and ripping up the shrubbery with telekinesis. She was surprised that with all the negativity she was feeling — and she was feeling a lot of negativity; rage was roiling and broiling with her chest — she only attracted a few young beowolves towards her. Or perhaps more of them, and bigger and older and stronger ones at that, would have found her if she’d stuck around longer, yelling and screaming as she used up her magic.

She had used the last of it to teleport herself back to the dorm room before that actually happened, and now, she felt exhausted. Her limbs trembled, her body was stained with sweat, and she was breathing heavily.

What she didn’t feel was any better. None of the release of her magic had actually released her emotions, because the source of those emotions had not been affected one bit by her little tantrum in the forest.

“Sunset?”

Sunset looked down. Ruby and Penny were sitting on the floor, both of them looking up at her.

It was Penny who had spoken, and now, she leapt up to her feet. “You’re back!” she cried. “How did it go? Pyrrha asked Jaune to go and meet her alone, which sounds romantic, don’t you think? Are you allowed to say what—?”

Sunset raised one hand. She placed the other upon her forehead. She could feel her heart beating furiously in her chest, even as that same chest rose and fell with her breathing. Her ears were drooped down into her mane.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I am back, Penny, I … would you both do me a favour and clear the room? I need to be alone.”

“'Alone'?” Ruby asked. “Why?”

“Just get out!” Sunset snapped. She closed her eyes, pressing the back of her hand more firmly against her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I … I’m sorry. I just … I need some privacy.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” asked Penny.

“Please just go,” Sunset begged. “Please, I’m sorry, but … please.”

They were both staring at her, eyes wide and mouths slightly open. Of course they were; they had no idea what was going on. They must think she was being rude and strange in equal measure, kicking Ruby out of her own dorm room, kicking Penny out. A fine welcome to Beacon.

But she couldn’t … she needed to be alone right now.

Alone with her thoughts, alone to hear herself think.

She hardly looked at either Penny or Ruby as they left, didn’t turn around as they scuttled off behind her, didn’t move as she heard the door close after them.

She just stood there, in the middle of the room, sweaty, gasping for breath, trembling, almost out of magic, her head pounding. Pounding with thoughts that she hated, with problems that she could not resolve.

She felt no better than when she had left Pyrrha’s company; in fact, she arguably felt a good deal worse.

Pyrrha was still going to go through with it. Pyrrha was going to go through with it, and Pyrrha was going to die, and Sunset knew that, even if she couldn’t exactly prove it. Nothing good could come from meddling in souls. Pyrrha would get into the machine, and somebody else would get out. Pyrrha Nikos, the soul of SAPR, would be gone.

Pyrrha gone. Pyrrha no more. The thought of it was enough to bring tears pricking the corner of Sunset’s eyes, not to mention sending a surge of rage spiking through her body. She was angry at Ozpin for asking Pyrrha to do this, angry at Pyrrha for being so noble as to actually go through with it, angry at Cinder for causing all of this to come to pass.

Angry at herself for a whole host of reasons: for having been stupid enough to trust Ozpin — and the fact that she could tell that he didn’t want to do this in no way diminished her rage at him for doing it anyway; if you don’t want to do something then don’t do it! — for having failed to see that Cinder was capable of such things as she had done to Amber, or seeing but choosing not to care; for having failed to convince Pyrrha not to go through with this; for not being able to do anything to stop the horror that she could see unfolding before her eyes.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. She couldn’t do anything, in any sense. She couldn’t stand by and watch Pyrrha do this to herself, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it either. She considered enlisting Blake’s help to sneak down into the Vault and use the machine on herself before Pyrrha could do it, but … even if Blake could work out how to use the machine … and it would be pretty cruel of Sunset to ask Blake to be the instrument of her spiritual demise … they’d already established that Sunset or someone derived from her nature probably wasn’t the best person in Remnant to have Maiden powers.

Sunset had no idea what to do. She had little idea what she ought to be thinking — in the whirl of thoughts that swirling around her mind, she was even starting to consider that Pyrrha might be right and that it was wrong of her to prioritise Pyrrha’s life above all others or the survival of Vale — or whether she ought to be feeling this amorphous anger that was directed at everyone including herself and not helping her at all in the process.

She had no idea what to do … but she did know who she could talk to about it. Someone wise and kind and caring. Someone who had seen much and endured much.

Sunset’s hands trembled as she pulled the magical journal out from underneath her bed. If Celestia told her that what Professor Ozpin was doing was just and necessary, then Sunset wouldn’t say another word against it, no matter what she felt within, but if Celestia told her that she was right to feel as incensed as she did, well then … then Sunset would do whatever it took.

For her friend, she could do nothing else.

Subconsciously, she might have known that she needed this even before she realised it; that was why she had sent Ruby and Penny away out of the room.

She needed privacy now, privacy and her princess.

She put the book down on the desk and opened it up to the next free page. Picking up her pen, she began to write.

Twilight, are you there?

Please be there. Please answer. Please don’t be away on urgent business. Please don’t be in a position where you can’t answer. Please, I need this right away.

She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the words in Twilight’s cursive writing begin to spread across the page.

I’m right here, Sunset. Do you need something?

Yes, I need to talk to Princess Celestia right away. It’s urgent. Life and death urgent. Please, can you send for her?

Life and death? Sunset, are you in some kind of trouble?

I don’t have time to explain it to you first. I need to speak to Princess Celestia about this. She’s the only one who can help me right now. Please, Twilight, I need her, and I need her now.

There was a pause, and Sunset could picture Twilight on the other end of the journal, staring with bafflement at the words that Sunset had so hastily scrawled on the page. Perhaps they were a little exaggerated, but they matched her mood. Even if she had time to wait, it certainly didn’t feel that way, and she had no desire to linger in this state of distraught confusion, not knowing where to turn and staring down the loss of a friend in the process. She needed guidance. She needed the wisdom that only Princess Celestia could give her.

Okay. I’ll send her a message via Spike. She shouldn’t be long.

Sunset nodded, for all that she was invisible to Twilight. Thank you, Twilight. I really mean that.

Twilight didn’t answer. There was no answer for a little while, until a familiar elegant script began to unfurl itself like a standard across the page.

Sunset? Are you there?

Even in the midst of these dire circumstances, Sunset could not prevent herself from smiling at the sight of Celestia’s words, words which she could hear as in her old teacher’s voice. I’m right here, Princess. Thank you for coming.

How could I not? Twilight said that it was urgent, that you required my council desperately. She spoke of life and death. Little sunbeam, what is the matter?

Sunset sighed. She clenched her free hand. She shut her eyes for a moment as she wondered how she could explain everything that she had just found out and everything that she was thinking and feeling and wondering.

How could she make Celestia understand?

Princess Celestia, if the world was in dire peril and the only way to save it was to sacrifice Twilight, would you do it?

There was a pause on the other end of the book, and Sunset could only imagine the horror that Celestia was feeling to read those words.

Sunset, what sort of a question is that to ask of me?

An awful one, I know, but one that I need the answer to. Would you do it? Could you sacrifice Twilight to save the world?

No. The answer came swiftly, that single word of it at least, written sharply as though she were stabbing the page with her quill. The rest of the answer came after a short delay, unfolding at a slower pace.No, I would not do it. I could not. Not even for the world.

Because you love her too much.

I am not sure that it is possible to love too much, if one has chosen to love freely and without malicious interference.

Does it not make us too weak to do what must be done?

And what must be done, Sunset? And why do we do anything, except because we love? What do we protect but that which we hold dear? If we love nothing, then why should we do anything? Love is not our weakness, though it may not always be wise, yet it remains our greatest strength. Now, please tell me, Sunset, why would you ask me such a question as this?

Sunset shivered as she put pen to paper. Because my friend is in a lot of trouble, and it’s not just that I don’t know how to save her, it’s that she’s got me asking if I should even try to save her or if I shouldn’t just let her go like she seems to want because she’s got more nobility than sense, and that’s always been her problem, and that’s why we all love her so much.

I see. Or at least, I begin to see. Perhaps you had better explain a little more. Is your world in peril?

They think it is. Professor Ozpin and Pyrrha and the rest. There’s a procedure; they want to make an alicorn; not exactly, but that’s the best way that I can think to explain it to you without going into all the details; they want to make an alicorn to guard an important magical object and keep great power out of the hands of evil. But it’s going to kill Pyrrha to do it. They want to take the soul from a dying girl and give it to Pyrrha, and I’m absolutely certain that what comes out the other side won’t be Pyrrha anymore.

I fear that you are all too correct, Sunset. Meddling in the soul in such a way, it is impossible for me to conceive that Pyrrha’s soul will not be transformed, maybe even beyond all recognition.

That was what she had been afraid of. What am I supposed to do, Princess? Pyrrha wants to do this, even knowing what it will cost her, and I don’t know what to do. Am I supposed to just let this happen because it’s what she wants? Would you let Twilight go through with something like that if it was what she wanted?

I would do all I could to prevent it. I could not bring myself to do such a thing nor to countenance it as an observer, however passive my role might be.

Not even for the world?

Not even for the world.

Then what would you do, the world being in peril?

Celestia: I would trust in Twilight to find another way. A way for good to win out without her sacrifice, or any other.

Sunset leaned back in her chair. She could feel the fog lifting from her mind. Her path felt clearer now. Another way. Another way. There was one obvious other way, and that was to save Amber so that she could go on being the Fall Maiden; that still left the fact that somebody was going to have to kill Cinder, but for now, if Sunset could save Pyrrha without having to put anyone else in the Atlesian machine in her place, then she’d be well pleased with herself and consider it a good day's work. Save Amber. But how?

And then, like sunlight breaking through the clouds, it came to her. Yes, that particular combination of spells, plus Jaune’s semblance and her own, and with enough scientific knowhow to keep her stable while all of this was going on … yes, that might just work. In any case, it was surely worth the attempt. It would save Pyrrha, and Amber too; surely, that was worth trying?

If only she could persuade Professor Ozpin to see it that way.

If only someone could persuade Professor Ozpin to see it that way.

Sunset began to scribble on the page again. Princess Celestia, I think I have an idea. But I might need your help to persuade Professor Ozpin to let me do it.

I would do anything to help you, Sunset, but in this case, I don’t quite understand.

With your permission, I’d like to introduce the two of you.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The artwork was by McMystery, and very, very well done it was too.

It also highlights the big change or addition to this chapter, which is the addition of an Arkos scene in between Sunset teleporting away in a huff and Sunset talking to Celestia. It was a bit of an issue with the original version that Pyrrha was prepared to do this thing that might, would, kill her, but she never really got a chance to talk to Jaune about it, and that omission is rectified here.

All My Gallant Stars (Rewritten)

All My Gallant Stars

Ozpin had returned to his office after leaving the vault, and now he sat, alone in that sparse and empty space, brooding upon his deeds as the gears of the clock ground inevitably overhead.

He could not say that he did not deserve the anger that had been vented upon him. He couldn’t say that he had not deserved the fear in Miss Nikos’ eyes, or the hurt and betrayal in the eyes of Miss Shimmer.

He deserved it all, and far worse besides. That Miss Nikos was willing to go along with the procedure, even knowing everything that she knew about the risks … it both gladdened his heart and saddened him in equal measure. It gladdened him, because the fact that she was willing to stand up, back straight, and do this thing that was so very dangerous, and so monstrous even in its conception was proof in his eyes that she was worthy to be the next Fall Maiden. It brought him some small measure of comfort to know that the next soul to bear the mantle would be composed in some part of Pyrrha Nikos and all her splendid virtues.

It saddened him because in doing this, he was condemning the font of those same virtues; it saddened him because the thing that might have stopped all this and saved her was Pyrrha’s refusal to go along with it, and that refusal, she would not give, no matter how much he urged her to think carefully, to take time, to consider before she answered. Her answer would be the same at the week’s end as it was now. Because she was a good girl, a sacrificing girl, the kind of girl who would have been a splendid Maiden … because of that, she would give up her life so that another being could bear that honour.

There was no proof that that was going to happen, it might yet be that Pyrrha Nikos would emerge intact and fully herself … but Ozpin doubted it. He would have to be a man of great optimism to believe that all would proceed for the best … and it had been a long time since he had last had that much hope.

It had been a long time since he had any hope at all. He sat in his tower while the waves rose up and battered the walls of Vale, recruiting children to be his weapons and sending them out to fight and die, and the best he had ever hoped for was to hold the levees, keep things in stasis, perhaps see the gradual improvements in the world that his predecessors had set in motion through their work on faunus rights, but even that yielded only the expectation of minute changes for the better.

And in the meantime, he bought time and paid for it with the blood of so many worthy young men and women, children whom he watched train and learn, live and in some cases love, grow into themselves within the walls of Beacon. He watched them become the best versions of themselves with the support of the faculty and of one another, and then when the best of them were at their best, he brought them into his circle, made them his agents, and sent them out to risk their lives against the power of Salem.

He could not escape the feeling that he had become over these long ages the kind of man whom Ozma, that great hero, that warrior mage, that shining paragon of all things good, would have held in contempt.

But he had not been Ozma for a very long time. The Ozmas of this age were the children he sent to their deaths.

His fingers moved almost independently of his dark thoughts, bringing up Miss Nikos’ permanent record. Her picture, occupying the entire upper left hand quarter of the screen, stared out at him, her green eyes vivid and a faint smile upon her face. Around the image were the functional details of her time both at Beacon and at Sanctum before that: excellent grades, nothing but praise from all of her teachers, especially her sparring instructors, only a single incident of rule-breaking, and that being the battle at the docks against the White Fang and Roman Torchwick, which hardly seemed like something to hold against her.

There had also been the foodfight of course, but he had made sure that didn’t make its way onto any of the records of the students involved.

They had expected her to choose Haven, if she chose at all; she didn’t have to attend any of the four academies; to be honest, her skill was probably already on a higher level than the average qualified huntress, and she didn’t need to graduate to continue on the tournament circuit either. But, if she had decided to go and attend one of the four academies, they had expected — the whole world had expected — her to choose Haven.

She was the champion of Mistral, after all: the Princess Without a Crown, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn.

But she had chosen Beacon. That had been the first surprise. The second had come during the personal interviews that he conducted with every student before offering them a place. He had thought that a young woman of Miss Nikos’ skill at arms might be useful to him, but it wasn’t until she sat down in front of him in his office that he had begun to see her as the next Fall Maiden in waiting.

“As honoured as I am that so illustrious a fighter as yourself wishes to attend my institution,” Ozpin began as he poured out a cup of cocoa.

“Please, Professor,” Miss Nikos interrupted him. “A man of your stature and reputation has no need to be honoured by me, and no need to flatter me by pretending otherwise.”

Ozpin sat down, and his eyebrows rose. “No, Miss Nikos?”

“You are Professor Ozpin,” Miss Nikos said. “You saved Vale from the grimm, you were the youngest headmaster ever appointed to a school, you’ve done such incredible things for humanity. All I’ve done is win a few tournaments and get good grades in my combat school. Someone like you could never be honoured by someone like me, and to be honest, I would much rather you didn’t pretend that it was any other way.”

Ozpin leaned back in his chair. “You don’t expect any special treatment on account of your celebrity status?”

“I don’t want any special treatment,” Pyrrha replied, with a certain emphasis upon the word ‘want.’ “I just want to be treated like any other student.”

“Even though you are not any other student?” Ozpin asked. He picked up his mug and took a sip of the scalding hot cocoa. “Tell me, Miss Nikos, why do you want to become a huntress? You would become far more famous and much wealthier if you stuck to participating in tournaments in Mistral.”

“I don’t fight for wealth or fame, Professor,” Miss Nikos said. “Or at least, I don’t wish to do so anymore.”

Ozpin leaned forward. “Then what do you fight for, Miss Nikos?”

“For the world,” Miss Nikos said. “For humanity. For the four kingdoms and all who dwell in them. Professor, do you know what the name Nikos means in Old Mistrish?”

“Victor of the people,” Ozpin said.

“Exactly,” Miss Nikos said. “It comes from the days when my family were … emperors and princes; do you know that in the great Mistralian epics, a common epithet for kings is Shepherd of the People?”

“I do, Miss Nikos.”

“Surely, the victor of the people has an obligation to fight for the people?” Miss Nikos asked. “To stand at the forefront of the battle against their enemies, as my ancestors did of old. That’s what I want to do, that … that is the reason why I want to come here to Beacon.”

That had been partly a lie, but as he had watched her, Ozpin had come to understand the other half of the reason why she had wanted to attend Beacon for all that her skills made attendance superfluous. But he did not begrudge her wanting to live a normal life and forge friendships that she hoped would last a lifetime, and she had never given him any reason to believe that she had not been genuine in the motive that she had revealed to him.

As he had watched her, Miss Nikos had revealed herself to be so much more than just a skilled warrior, more than just another Qrow in the making. She was a true paragon, a font of virtues worthy of Maidenhood. She had all the nobility of her ancestors and little of their overweening pride and arrogance. In her gentle grace, she reminded him of the very first Fall Maiden, who had taught him to be thankful for the gifts that the world had bestowed upon him.

Would that he could have been merely thankful for having been given Pyrrha Nikos, instead of having to ask her to hurl herself into the fires of her own destruction for him.

So much would be lost if, as seemed so likely, she accepted his offer. And Ozpin was not thinking of an old Mistralian family wiped out or the rather pompous idea that such individuals carried the history of that ancient city with them in their blood; kind hearts were more than coronets, and simple faith than Mistralian blood, for all that Miss Nikos possessed all four of those.

Ozpin’s fingers tapped upon the virtual keys, and Miss Nikos’ file — and with her faintly smiling face that seemed to mock and to torment him — disappeared, replaced by that of Ruby Rose. Unlike the faintly smiling Miss Nikos, Miss Rose looked like she was trying to look serious in her photograph, although she was not managing it particularly well: glee was tugging at the sides of her mouth, and she seemed hard put to resist it. He could still remember the day he had offered her early entry into Beacon as though it was yesterday. He could remember how Qrow and Tai had both urged against it — let her wait until she’s seventeen like everyone else; let her have two more years at combat school before getting thrown in at the deep end; she doesn’t have the grasp of the academics to skip two years without consequence — but he had ignored them both.

The allure of a silver-eyed warrior had proved too great … and someone who could already show not only such skill but such courage when still so young was wasted at Signal. There was so much of her mother in her, though she had her father’s sense of humour too.

It was partly for Summer’s sake that she was not his first choice, partly because she reminded him more of the first Summer in her nature, and partly because, however fair, it was Miss Nikos had impressed him more. But partly, it was because he didn’t wish to do this to Summer’s only child. He might wield her as a weapon, but this … did he not owe her more than that?

And yet, he would do it if he had no other choice. And he would need no other choices because Ruby would not refuse him.

He scowled, not at Ruby’s picture but at himself, at the knowledge of what he had to do and to what excellent people he had to do it to.

Miss Nikos, Miss Rose … and Amber. Amber most of all.

Uncle Ozpin! Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?!

When he thought back to the day they’d found her, the only survivor of the grimm attack that had destroyed her village, a baby shielded by her mother’s body and by the rubble of the church that had fallen in just the right way to cover her without crushing her; when they had pulled the debris away, and the sunlight through the shattered window had fallen directly on that squalling, shrieking child … it had seemed like a sign that the God of Light had not wholly forsaken him. She had been a miracle, sent to remind him at his lowest ebb that not all he did was in vain, that even if he could not save the world, he could at least save a life this day. He had broken down and wept, with Qrow and Summer and Merida and Glynda all watching him; he had wept for this poor miraculous child as he thanked all the powers of heaven for the deliverance of them both.

He had known ever since that day that she was destined for something special, and he had suspected even then that that something might be Maidenhood; that was why, when Summer and Merida had both offered to take the girl and raise her as their own, he had taken Merida’s side.

With his head, he had thought that perhaps Summer had the better argument — she was already raising one child with another on the way who would be as sisters to Amber; she knew what she was doing, unlike Merida, who was childless; she had Tai to help raise the girl, to be a father to her, while Merida was alone — but, quite apart from the fact that Merida would not give way to Summer upon the point, and the justice to her claim that Summer already had two daughters and could hardly begrudge Merida one of her own, quite apart from all of that … he had felt that, raised as the daughter of a Maiden, Amber might grow to possess a greater destiny than as one amongst the daughters of Summer Rose.

And so, Merida had taken the child and raised her in a little cottage in the woods, with only a small village nearby in the way of neighbours, and even they rarely trespassed into the forest. They were — they had been — in many ways as isolated from civilisation and humanity as the Warrior in the Wood had been.

It had been just the two of them, and Ozpin, who had been a visitor whenever time and duty allowed, an honorary uncle whose visits were always welcome.

And in that capacity, he had watched Amber grow and blossom into a lovely young woman, kind and gentle, with the most beautiful singing voice. The way that she would run to him when she was young, shrieking his name in delight, were etched into his memory. Those pleasures which Salem had denied to him when she murdered his children — their children — out of spite to keep them from his hands, he had enjoyed, in some part, through Amber.

And when Merida died, who should be in her thoughts but Amber, her own beloved daughter, the girl who had shared her life in ways no one else had for fifteen years past? Amber had become the Fall Maiden. She had become the Fall Maiden, and Ozpin had smiled at it because he could think of no one more worthy to bear the mantle.

He recalled that she had wept when he took her away to Beacon, to be kept safe and to train in the use of her new magic. She wept at her going, and then she fled from Beacon, and then, while Qrow searched frantically for her … the creatures of Salem found her first.

Ozpin found himself wondering what Amber’s life would have been like if he had sided with Summer that day, all those years ago. Perhaps Summer, with another child to look after, might not have gone on the mission that had claimed her life. Even if she had, Amber would have grown up with two strong, loving sisters. Amber might have felt overshadowed by those sisters and their prowess in combat, but other than that, she would have grown up an ordinary, happy — if Miss Rose and Miss Xiao Long were any indication — girl, unnoticed by anyone, in no danger at all.

Instead, Ozpin had given her to Merida, and so, she had become the Fall Maiden, and so, he had condemned her to be hunted by a ferocious predator knowing neither pity nor remorse.

And now, though Amber had not even seen the change of seventeen years, he would have to kill her because of that same mantle in order to keep it from the monster who had sought her death.

He was beginning to wish — no, that was not true; he had often wished it before now, though less often since the last of the usurpers had been put down and the line of virtuous Maidens restored — that he had never granted his magic to the four sisters.

They had thanked him for it, at the time, and he had told them that he ought to be thanking them for the way that they had restored his faith in humanity and its potential. They had been such sweet girls, all of them, and kind and generous besides; they had to have been to share their time and the blessings of their company with a recalcitrant old man who wanted nothing to do with the wider world beyond his walls. They had been so lovely, they … they had reminded him of the kind of girls he would have wished his own sweet babes to have grown into if they had been allowed to grow.

And so, out of gratitude, he had bestowed upon them power that they might spread joy and hope throughout the world; he had forgotten that they had not needed power to bring both joy and hope and so much else to his door in the first place. But he had hoped … he had dared to dream that, together with himself, they might finally be able to fulfil his quest from the God of Light and bring mankind together in peace.

Instead, the brutish instincts of men had corrupted the beautiful gift he had sought to bestow upon them, and he had been forced to watch as the spiritual descendants of those perfect girls had been hunted down for their power the way that animals were hunted for their pelts, as the power that he had given to those who so reminded him of his daughters fell into the hands of murderesses and tyrants, the very best of whom were nothing like he had imagined or desired the Maidens to become.

And now, because of the system he had established, he was forced to send a girl worthy to be admired and respected to her ignominious demise in darkness beneath the earth.

He would take it back, if he could. He would take back the whole system. But such a feat was beyond his power now, and had been ever since he had established it, casting the greatest part of his power upon the Maidens.

How often the decisions that we make with the best of intentions are the ones that return to destroy us.

The elevator door opened — which surprised Ozpin, as he thought he had made it clear that he did not wish to be disturbed — and Miss Shimmer walked into his office. She was carrying a rather large book beneath her arm, old and leatherbound by the looks of it. She moved with a mixture of diffidence and wariness, but she did not seem quite as angry with him as she had been when he left her.

Ozpin doubted that she would have gotten over it quite so quickly.

He didn’t ask her to leave. After what he had done to her, she had the right to stay, at least a little while. Rather, he turned off the screen on his desk and sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Miss Shimmer,” he said, “what an unexpected pleasure. And what can I do for you?”

Sunset approached his desk, but did not sit down in the chair before it. She looked down at him, and took a deep breath. “You can give me a chance to save Amber, Professor.”

Ozpin found himself sitting up straighter in his chair, completely involuntarily but irresistibly at the same time. Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

Yes, my dear; I brought you salvation.

His voice trembled a little in spite of his control over it. “I … I beg you, Miss Shimmer, for all that you have cause to hate me, I beg you, do not taunt me with false hope.”

“I have many faults, Professor, but I hope I am not become so cruel,” Sunset said. “I’m serious. I think that I — that we — can save Amber and avoid the need to transfer her aura to Pyrrha.”

Ozpin frowned. “Forgive me, Miss Shimmer, but knowing you as I do, how can I be sure that this is not simply a way to save Miss Nikos?”

“It is a way to save Pyrrha, but you could at least hear me out before you assume that makes my idea worthless,” Sunset said, with an edge of sharpness entering her voice.

She was right, of course; while he wouldn’t put it past Miss Shimmer to have put more thought into the saving Miss Nikos aspect of her plan than of the healing Amber, it was churlish of him to dismiss the possibility simply because of who was bringing it to him.

And could he really dismiss out of hand any chance to save Amber? Any chance at all, no matter how slim. The moment those words had passed Sunset’s lips, there was a part of Ozpin, the part that still remembered what it had been like to oh so briefly be a father, that had wanted to leap to his feet with a loud cry of exultation and give Sunset everything she needed.

But there was another part, the larger part, the part that had been a leader in a shadow war for so many generations, that recognised that he could do nothing that would jeopardise the chance of successfully passing on the Fall Mantle to Miss Nikos, or to one of the others if — unlikely, but nevertheless — she would not go through with it. He could not risk the Fall Maiden upon a desperate throw for double six, not even for Amber’s sake.

But nor could he ignore the chance. He sighed. “You are quite right, Miss Shimmer, and chide me well. What is your plan?”

Sunset raised her free hand, currently encased within a white silk bridal glove. “You know that my semblance allows me to enter the souls of those I touch?”

“I do not think you’ve ever told me that, Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin observed mildly. “Congratulations on unlocking your semblance.”

“It’s actually been a little while, but thanks anyway,” Sunset muttered. “The point is, I want to use my semblance to enter Amber’s soul, and once I’m in there, I think I can use my magic to tie-off the frayed edges of her aura and stabilise her condition. Then Jaune can use his semblance to amplify her existing aura until her strength returns. And then, if necessary, I can try and wake her up from where I am in her consciousness.”

Ozpin’s face was neutral, but inside, he could not help but feel a little disappointed. Miss Shimmer offered him nothing but conjecture and a gamble. “And what makes you think you can accomplish these feats?”

“Because there is a tradition of dreamwalking and lucid dreaming amongst my people, and lore around it,” Sunset said, “and the lore agrees that when you walk in dreams, you can do things that would be impossible even by Equestrian standards. I believe that the reason Amber’s aura cannot repair itself naturally is because of the means used to steal her magic; I believe that the method of the theft — some dark magic almost certainly — has left a residue that is continuing to attack Amber even now, but in her soul, I can purge her of that darkness, and even if that’s not enough, I’ll be able to do magic that is beyond me in this world to bring her back.”

“Perhaps,” Ozpin said. “You have no proof of your theory, no proof that this can be done. You have never done it before, and to do it, you would have to remove Amber from the machine that is all that is keeping her alive.”

“It’s not as though the machine is going to heal her ever,” Sunset said. She took a deep breath and calmed her voice. “Forgive me, but I believe that by keeping Amber’s core temperature low enough, we can replicate at least some of the functions of the stasis pod and continue to keep her alive long enough for me to fix her. She will not die immediately if the pod is cracked open, Professor, there is time enough; I know there is.”

Ozpin closed his eyes. Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

I’m afraid not, for it was only fool’s gold after all.

“I would give almost anything to see Amber safe and sound again,” he said.

“Then—” Sunset began.

“But what you propose is too risky,” Ozpin said. “If Amber dies while under your care, then all of the Fall Maiden’s powers will pass to Cinder Fall.”

“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “But … Professor, in its best outcome, your plan will certainly kill either Pyrrha or Amber, and possibly both. My plan at its best will save them both. I’m asking you to have the … the decency to let me try before you put my friend into that machine and turn it on.”

“I cannot act on optimism,” Ozpin said. “I must think of the larger picture of this war.”

“Then don’t call it optimism; call it faith,” Sunset said. She looked down at the book in her hands and slammed it down onto Ozpin’s desk. She opened it up to a blank page, took a pen out of her pocket, and scribbled something onto it.

She slid the book over to Ozpin’s side of the desk. “If you won’t listen to me,” Sunset said, “then please, listen to someone much wiser than I am before you dismiss me in favour of your … your terrible idea.”

Intrigued despite himself, Ozpin pulled the heavy book a little closer towards him.

Princess Celestia, the time has come.

Ozpin was about to ask what that meant, or what it was supposed to signify to him, when to his somewhat amazement, he saw writing spring without visible source onto the page beneath the words that Miss Shimmer had written.

Do I have the pleasure of addressing Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy?

Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. He glanced up at Miss Shimmer.

Sunset smiled faintly. “That book is connected by magic to another identical book in Equestria. The person writing on the other side is Princess Celestia, Equestria’s ruler and my teacher. It was she who gave me the idea that we don’t always have to choose between the world and the people we hold dear. Sometimes, we can have both, and do good for strangers too. Please, write back to her. You have my word; I won’t read a single thing that passes between you.”

Ozpin considered it. He could refuse. Perhaps it would be easiest to do so, but then what? Send Miss Shimmer away and resume his brooding? It might be good to unburden himself to someone who would not judge him for it and whose judgement made no difference either way in any case.

And perhaps, just perhaps, a ruler might even understand.

He picked up a pen of his own. “I simply write?”

Sunset nodded. “You just write and wait for a reply. I’ll … give you some space.” She turned away and walked to one of the windows overlooking the docking platforms.

Ozpin looked at her for a moment, her back to him and to her book, and then he looked down at the words written on the page before him.

He gripped his pen in his hands.

I am Professor Ozpin, as I am given to understand that you are Princess Celestia. Is it Your Majesty or Your Highness?

Please, I am resigned to obsequious formality from my little ponies however much I may detest it, but you are certainly no subject of mine. Celestia will do. I would like to start by saying thank you, for taking such good care of my little sunbeam.

Ozpin could not help but stare at that a moment before he replied. May I ask what you think Miss Shimmer has been doing here that you believe I have been taking good care of her?

I am aware of what Sunset is training to become, what it seems she already is, for you seem to blur the lines between training and practice somewhat, and I will not deny that there are times when my heart beats harder with concern for her in a world as violent as yours. But though our conversations are nowhere near as frequent as I should like, I have nevertheless noticed, and Twilight has noticed the same, Sunset growing into a fine young mare, the kind of mare I always hoped she would become but could not make of her. I think you are owed thanks for that, Professor.

You will not bear ceremony as a princess regnant, but you will stand on it before a mere headmaster?

I know enough to know that you are more than just a mere headmaster, Professor, and I am of the opinion that there is nothing mere about being a headmaster, but even were those things not so, should I not show a little respect towards my daughter’s teacher?

Thank you for teaching her, and raising her, and helping her to become that which I always knew that she could be.

Ozpin stared down at the words written on the page before him, and he … he found he could not help but smile abashedly. Miss Shimmer has certainly grown into a formidable young woman, but her friends deserve far more credit for the transformation than I do.

Something makes me suspect that you arranged for her to find those excellent friends who now surround her.

And what makes you suspect I am so devious?

I have done as much in your position when I felt the student in question required it. Recently, in fact. I am sometimes a teacher myself, you know.

Miss Shimmer mentioned that you were not only a princess but her teacher. I had assumed some kind of apprenticeship.

Sunset was my personal student for a time, but beyond that, I am also the head teacher of a school of magic, where the brightest unicorns may study the arcane arts.

Indeed? I am surprised you find the time while ruling a kingdom.

Says he who finds time to run a school while also leading a war.

Ozpin chuckled. Yes, it is miraculous what one can find time to do if one is willing to forego sleep, isn’t it?

He felt as though he could feel Celestia’s amusement on the other side of the book. Indeed. I, for one, know that I will always find time for my school and my teaching. There are times when I consider vesting myself of crown and state and royal dignity, but I would never give up teaching my little unicorns, mentoring those special sparks and helping them fulfil their potential to shine bright across all the land. There is nothing quite like it, is there?

Nothing in the whole world. I was the youngest person to ever be appointed a headmaster, as I am never allowed to forget, and I very much regret that my early promotion has left me so removed from the everyday lives of the majority of my students and gave me so little time to truly teach.

What subject did you teach, if I may ask?

I taught three subjects: History, Fairy Tales, and Grimm Studies.

There was a pause. Please do not take it the wrong way, Professor, if I say that I feel sorry for you. I have the privilege of teaching my students how to unlock the wonders of the world; you must teach them to defend against its horrors.

I do not resent you feeling sorry for me, Celestia; how can I, when I so often feel sorry for myself? Ozpin.

I beg your pardon?

No more Professor, please. As one teacher to another.

Very well, Ozpin.

Thank you, Celestia. He paused. I fear that, now I have your attention, I must chide you somewhat for the way you have misused this land of Remnant as your exiling grounds.

Yes, well, I would say that the worst of that was done in the time of my own teacher, Starswirl the Bearded. In my time, I have tried to deal with our difficulties by ourselves and on our own soil. Forgive me just a moment; one such perennial problem has just entered the room and looks bored. The seconds ticked by before Celestia began to write again. Thank goodness Fluttershy was not far behind. As I was saying: I recognise that you have grounds to be upset with us, and so on his behalf and on behalf of Equestria, I offer you my most sincere apologies. I hope that our discarded troubles have not been too much trouble for you and yours.

Compared with the troubles that we have brought upon ourselves, I’m sad to say that the troubles that Equestria has brought upon us are far from the worst.

Knowing the nature of some of what we have banished through the portal, it makes me shudder to read that. Are things really so bad as Sunset has made them out to be?

I fear it may be worse than she has conveyed to you. Or why else would I train generation after generation of students to battle an unending tide of darkness, sending them forth to gleam so brightly, like stars against the night that is constantly threatening to engulf us, until one by one the darkness snuffs them out, one way or the other?

Has this war raged for all your life?

This war was old when I was young and yet will be young when I am gone.

There was a pause on the other side of the journal. Ozpin, I trust you have your reasons for deceiving Sunset and her friends, but surely, you have no need to lie to me. What harm can I do you with the truth?

Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. I’m afraid I’ve no idea what you mean.

I mean that, as one immortal — or close enough, at any road — to another, your secret is safe with me.

For a moment, Ozpin did nothing but stare down at the words that had picked their way across the page before him. He could have done nothing else even if he’d wanted to. How did you know?

It takes one to know one. You write with the sadness of one who has seen more than a mortal’s life of sadness. You write in a way that I can recognise. That said, I wasn’t sure until you confirmed it; had I been wrong I would have looked rather foolish, wouldn’t I?

As it is, you look very wise indeed, and quite perceptive; only the very closest of my confederates know that about me. I am cursed by the gods never to find peace until I have completed my quest to vanquish Salem; I begin to think that I will never find peace. I simply endure.

Walking a long and lonely road, joined at times by fellow travellers and noble companions, but only for the briefest of moments when compared with the span of the road down which you walk, how far you have gone, and how far you have yet to go.

You understand perfectly.

How can I not, when I have lived it? In my youth, my sister Luna served as the companion of my labours; now, thank goodness, she is able to be so again. But for a thousand years in between, when she lay banished, I was all alone.

I have always been alone, and so I envy you to have even a sister to share your burden and your experience.

And I am sorry that that is a comfort denied to you. And yet to speak true, we have never truly been alone, have we? Have you always been a teacher?

No, that is quite recent. But before then, I was often a mentor, although I often coupled that role with another mask.

As we both couple teaching with another role. But, and I say this as one who is both, being a mentor to one and being a teacher to a class or a school are not so very different save in scale. It is a role that blesses and curses us in equal measure. It is our tragedy that we must raise and train these remarkable young people, kind and brave, blessed with rare talents and more blessed besides with rarer virtues; I have never had any children, and yet, at the same time, I have had so many, far more than any mother in Equestria ever brought into the world.

Ozpin smiled. I had children of my own once, a very long time ago now, and yet, I understand your meaning perfectly. So many wonderful students and protégés have touched my heart. Ruby’s mother, Summer Rose; Ruby herself now, and Pyrrha too; Amber; Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall; so many of them, I could fill up this book with their names. So many, and all of them gone now, or almost all. Only the latest generation remains, and in a blink of my eye, they will be gone too. I will send them out, as I sent all the rest, to gleam so brightly for a moment and then, nothing. All my gallant stars snuffed out by Salem or by time.

And yet, do they not shimmer and sparkle so wondrously in the time that is given to them? When they shine, does their light not touch the very corners of the world, and are we not blessed to share in that light, however brief? Yes, it is our tragedy that we must lose all whom we love, but it is our glory that we can know and love them in the first place. I will never forget a single one of my beloved students, nor would I cast those memories aside merely to assuage the pain of having lost them all. Some went out into the world and found their happiness there; some lost their way — I think we both know the taste of that quite well.

Indeed. It is a bitter draught, but one that it seems very difficult to avoid ahead of time. I have drank of it, and I have no doubt that I will drink of it again. It is the taste of our failure, is it not?

It is, every time. I am glad to say that some whom I failed, Sunset being one, find their way by other paths to a place in the world they can call home. Others are not so fortunate. Some, I have been forced to call my enemies. And some have traced their courses across the sky and left the world a better and a brighter place than they found it. Yet I have loved them all.

Even those who became your enemies?

The sting of betrayal is deep and painful, but it would need to be deeper still by far to poison all the love that had gone before, would it not?

To any other, I would be ashamed to confess it, but I agree with you.

I am glad to see we are of one mind in this. It gives me hope that you will understand when I say that I fear you have forgotten one of the most important principles of being a mentor.

And what is that?

That there comes a time when we must accept that we are not only the teachers, but have in some degree become the students also.

You refer to Miss Shimmer’s plan. It is an immense risk she asks of me.

Is any risk too great to run to save, or even try to save, those students whom we love so well?

Miss Shimmer places all her hopes in hope itself. It has been a long time since I had so much hope to wager.

That is one area where we must be the students, not the teachers. We are old, and having lived a long time, we have acquired some wisdom and much knowledge, but we err if we confuse our faults with our wisdom, if we confuse our aged weariness and caution with our hard-won wisdom, if we confuse our lack of youthful confidence with greater knowledge instead of greater years. It is our part, and for my part it is the most rewarding part of my life, to guide these young souls on their way to the fulfilment of their destinies, but there are also times when we despair and the flames of our will gutter low and the bitter watches of the night threaten to freeze our hearts with fear when we must be guided by them in our turn. They are stars, just as you named them: so many stars so bright and beautiful. Yes, they burn all, all too briefly, but do they not light up the sky most beautifully before they go out? And will their light, shining and shimmering and sparkling, not serve to guide us homeward to salvation in the meantime? You say you have no hope; Ozpin, there is no better source of hope in hopeless hours than to look at your students and realise that the world is safe with them. Trust them and let their light redeem your errors.

Ozpin closed his eyes. Ruby, Pyrrha … and Amber too? Remnant was blessed with them, and would be more blessed if the third name were joined with the other two. If Pyrrha were not forced to sacrifice herself for the sake of the Fall Maiden, but instead were joined with her as a guard and a companion in the inevitable battle … with Ruby and Pyrrha by Amber’s side, would Cinder not fall for certain?

Would such a second battle not redeem his mistake in letting the first battle be fought at all?

Be guided by their stars, Celestia urged him, not to snuff one out. Sunset offered him a chance to reignite Amber’s star. Could he ignore that simply because he was afraid?

You have convinced me, as I think only you could. If it please you, might we talk again another time?

I would like that very much. I will discuss with Sunset and see if there is not a way that we might produce another book, for you and I to use exclusively.

That would be much more convenient, wouldn’t it? Thank you. If Miss Shimmer’s plan works, my gratitude will be boundless.

It will be Sunset who deserves the gratitude, not I. Until next time, Ozpin.

I will look forward to it, Celestia.

Ozpin put down his pen. “Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset turned around, an expectant look upon her face. “Professor?”

“Save her,” Ozpin said.

Sunset straightened her back. “Yes, Professor.”

Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

Yes, my dear, I brought you a chance.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: As one of my favourite chapters, this chapter didn't get a lot of changes; the biggest one being a small thing in writing terms, but somewhat larger in implication: Celestia's implication that she is not actually immortal, simply very, very long lived. This was a subject of some controversy during the Freeport chapters, but I believe that there is a textual evidence for this: in the fact that Celestia ends the series by giving up the crown to go and live in a retirement home, in the reference to her 'bucket list' in From Dusk Till Dawn and of course the fact that there is no sign of her in G5.

Shimmering Hope (New)

Shimmering Hope

"What do you think Sunset was so upset about?" Penny asked.

She and Ruby walked slowly, and rather aimlessly, across the courtyard, Ruby scuffing her feet on the stones beneath her as she went; they passed in front of, and a little beneath, the statue of the huntsman and huntress; the snarling beowolf below appeared to fix his gaze upon them as they walked.

Ruby wished briefly that she had a pair of pockets that she could thrust her hands into; sadly, she did not. It was the downside of wearing a skirt.

"I don't know, Penny," she murmured. "But…"

Penny looked at her intently, leaning forwards, green eyes widening. "But what?"

"Well, she wasn't like that when she and Pyrrha left to go and talk to Professor Ozpin, right?" Ruby asked. "But then Sunset comes back all by herself—"

"Do you think Sunset and Pyrrha had an argument?"

"No," Ruby said quickly. "No, that's not possible; Sunset and Pyrrha don't fight." She paused, but could not resist adding, "It's me they argue with."

Penny cocked her head to one side a little. "Are you … joking?"

"I wish," Ruby muttered. "Like … I get that we're not going to agree on everything, and Sunset has gotten better at, like, not always having to have her own way and stopping me from doing what I think is best, but … is it bad that I still kind of wish that she'd just let me be right once in a while instead of just 'I think you're wrong, but I'm going to let you have your way anyway because I'm…' what's the word? It begins with 'mag'. Magne…"

"Magnetism?"

"No, that's not it," Ruby replied. "Anyway, the point is that I wish she'd admit I was right more often, you know?"

"Have you told Sunset how you feel?" asked Penny.

"Yes," Ruby replied emphatically. "That's why she started forcing herself to agree with me."

"Have you told her that you want her to admit that you were right?"

"No," Ruby said. "But … that's … harder. Sunset can stop needing to get her own way all the time, even if she disagrees with me, but if she disagrees with me, then … what? Am I supposed to ask her to lie to me and pretend that she agrees with me even when she doesn't? I'm not sure I could do that." She paused. "I don't think I want that."

"What do you want?" asked Penny. "Ruby, do you wish you were somewhere else?"

"Oh, is there somewhere you want to go?" asked Ruby. "Because we can anywhere, or pretty much—"

Penny shook her head. "No, I wasn't being literal, for once," she said. "Well, perhaps I was actually being literal, but not in the exact way of meaning 'do you wish you were in a different location at this very moment.' I mean … what you describe sounds very similar to what I've been going through with Team Rosepetal, and I decided that I wanted to leave and go somewhere where I was appreciated."

Ruby didn't immediately reply to Penny's words; she hadn't thought of it like that before, but now that Penny had said it, now that Penny had pointed it out … she couldn't brush it off and tell Penny that there was no similarity there at all.

"I get what you're saying," she said softly. "But … the difference is … well, I don't know, maybe it isn't actually a difference, I don't want to speak for Rainbow or Ciel or Twilight, but … with Sunset, and Pyrrha … it's not that they don't care. In fact, I think it's the opposite; it's that they care too much. Care too much, and maybe don't respect me enough, but … they want to take care of me; they just don't get that I don't need to be taken care of."

Penny nodded. "Do you think it's because you're younger than they are?"

"That's probably some of it," Ruby agreed, "but honestly, I think I could be their age and I'd still have to put up with this because … I don't think you could get Sunset or Pyrrha to completely stop acting the way they do without changing who they are. If I told you that they treat me this way because they're both royalty, would you understand what I was saying?"

Penny was silent for a few moments. "No," she said eventually.

"Okay, so you know how Pyrrha's family used to rule Mistral, right?"

Penny nodded. "Uh-huh."

"And you know how Sunset was raised by a princess, right?"

Penny nodded again. "Princess Celestia. She's very nice."

"So while they both might not be actual princesses, they're both … they both think that way, because like … my dad is a huntsman, my mom was a huntress, my Uncle Qrow is a huntsman too, and so that was everywhere when I was growing up, all the stories, and … and I know what it means to be a huntress, or at least I know what I think it means to be a huntress, even if not everyone else agrees with me, because I agree with it: never back down from a fight, draw your weapon and face the darkness. But Sunset, and Pyrrha too, they grew up with different stories, different examples; a princess has a duty to protect her people, just like a huntress has a duty to protect everyone, but a princess has that duty because she's wiser than everyone else, more capable. Because the people she has a duty to protect can't take care of themselves, like a mom taking care of kids. Pyrrha used this phrase to me once, 'shepherd of the people', which sounds cool and all until you realise that you're the sheep." She sighed. "It's frustrating sometimes, but they can't change it without changing who they are, and to be fair, I couldn't change either without changing who I am, so…" She shrugged.

"That makes sense," Penny said, speaking a little slowly. "Only what you said also sounds a lot like Rainbow Dash, and she isn't a princess."

"No, but she is like a big sister to all of her friends, right?" Ruby asked. "That's another job that lets you think you know better than everyone else. Trust me, I know."

Penny chuckled. "But you didn't answer my question: do you wish you were somewhere else?"

"Like on a different team?"

"Or a different academy even."

"Nah," Ruby said, shaking her head. "Because … the stuff that we argue about, it's important. It's the stuff that you probably should argue about, the stuff that you should have feelings about, one way or the other. I don't think I'd like three teammates who all thought exactly the same way that I do. It might be a relief for a second, but it would get kind of boring after a while, and when we disagree, we have to think about why we disagree, and that's a good thing. Plus, when we're not arguing about something big and serious, I like them, a lot. I told you that Sunset and Pyrrha act the way they do because they care; well, I care too, or it wouldn't bother me the way it does."

Penny nodded. "I see," she murmured. "Feelings are very complicated, aren't they?"

Ruby grinned. "Oh, you bet."

Penny smiled too. "So, if Sunset and Pyrrha didn't have a fight, then why do you think Sunset was so upset? Do you think Pyrrha might know? Could it be something that happened with Professor Ozpin?"

"That would make sense," Ruby agreed. "Maybe Pyrrha can tell us? I'll—"

A single black feather floated downwards, out of the sky, wafting slowly past Ruby's eyes, almost touching her nose as it fell.

"I wouldn't do that, kid," Uncle Qrow said as he walked around the other side of the huntsman statue, his back stooped as it so often was, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket. "Your friends … let's just say they have their reasons for being a little unsettled."

Ruby stared. "Uncle … Qrow?"

Qrow grinned. "Hey."

Ruby gasped. "Uncle Qrow!" she yelled as she rushed forwards, trailing rosepetals after her onto the stone of the Beacon courtyard, throwing her arms around Qrow's slender waist and hugging him tightly. "When did you get here? What are you doing here? Does Yang know you're here?" She grinned up at him. "Did you miss me?"

"Slow down, that's a lot of questions," Qrow said as he picked Ruby up by the scruff of the neck like she was a puppy or a kitten and lifted her up so that they were at eye level. "But the answer to your last question is 'no.'" The tone in his voice and the smile on his face gave the lie to it.

Ruby pouted. "Well then, me neither."

Qrow ruffled her hair with his free hand as he put her down. "I just got back. Ozpin asked me to come in for a little while, which I was only too glad to, since it meant I could spend some time with my nieces. And no, Yang doesn't know I'm here, not yet. You're the one I found first. Lucky you, huh?"

"Does that mean you know what happened with Sunset and Pyrrha?" Ruby asked. "You do know, don't you? Did something happen when they went to see Professor Ozpin?"

Qrow hesitated, looking over Ruby's head at Penny. "So, who's your friend here?"

"I'm Penny, Penny Polendina," Penny said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Qrow."

Qrow laughed. "'Mister Qrow' makes me sound like I belong in a kids book, just Qrow will be fine. And it's nice to meet you too, Penny Polendina; any friend of Ruby's is okay with me."

"You didn't answer my question," Ruby pointed out.

"No, I didn't," Qrow confirmed. "And I won't, at least not out here. It isn't something to talk about out in the open; none of this is something to talk about out in the open."

"I'd say we could go back to our dorm room," Ruby said, "but Sunset kicked us out. She said she needed to think."

Qrow shook his head. "I can't say that I blame her, but … she can think all she wants; it won't change anything. This whole thing is a mess, but it is what it is; there's no other option going to show up, no matter how much anyone wants it too."

Ruby frowned. "Uncle Qrow … you're starting to worry me right now."

Qrow closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, kid," he said. "I guess I'm starting to worry myself right now." He paused. "I know that Yang knows almost as much as you do—"

"She does?" asked Penny.

"Yeah," Ruby admitted. "Sunset told her."

"How did she take it?"

"She didn't like the fact that I didn't tell her."

"Anyway, why don't we see if we can talk about this in her room?" Qrow suggested.

"Okay," Ruby said, "but, just to warn you, I don't think Yang's very happy with you right now."

Qrow sighed. "Story of my life, Ruby. I've gotten used to it."

Penny took a step back. "I'll let the two or three of you—"

"No, Penny, it's fine," Ruby said. "This was supposed to be all about you and your transferring schools, I'm sorry."

"It sounds as though there's a very good explanation," Penny replied, "and if something has happened to Pyrrha or Sunset, I would like to know about it."

"If Ruby wants you to come along, then that's fine by me, too," Qrow said. "So, you're the one leaving Atlas and coming to Beacon, huh?"

Penny nodded. "That's right."

"Smart girl," Qrow said approvingly. "It'll be the best decision you ever made, trust me."

The three of them made their way back in the direction that Penny and Ruby had originally come from not very much earlier, back across the courtyard and into the dormitory. They climbed the stairs in silence, with only the sound of their feet softly thumping upon the carpet-covered boards to disturb the quiet. They reached the corridor leading to, amongst others, the dorm rooms of SAPR and YRBN.

"Yeah, I remember this corridor," Qrow said. "It looked as boring then as it does now."

He reached the point between the two doors, SAPR on one side and YRBN on the other, and looked for a second at the SAPR picture hung upon their door, of the four of them with Fluffy that they'd had taken at Benni Havens'.

"Cute," he said. "Where was this?"

"Oh, yeah, Benni Haven's wasn't around when you were here, was it?" Ruby asked.

"Is that a place?" asked Qrow. "I think I remember a Benni Haven; she was a year younger than us, I think."

Ruby nodded. "Now she runs a restaurant in the old lodge just outside the school."

"Huh, is that so?" Qrow asked. "Good for her, I guess."

"She lets all the teams that want to get pictures with the beowolf, and then she puts them on the wall," Ruby said. "To remember them, to make sure that they are remembered, when…"

"Yeah," Qrow murmured. "I know when. That … that sounds real nice of her."

"She remembers Mom," Ruby added. "She'd probably remember you too, if you went to see her."

"I doubt it," Qrow replied. "Everyone remembers Summer; your mom was … unforgettable. But I was just one face in a crowd." He turned away. "Anyway, this one's Yang's room, right? Let's see if there's anybody home."

Penny and Ruby stood on either side of Qrow as he knocked on the door to the dorm room.

There was a moment's pause before Yang answered the door. "Uncle Qrow?" she gasped. "What are you—?" She stopped, and seemed to remember, or maybe make herself remember, that she was mad at him. "We need to talk," she said, in a noticeably less enthusiastic tone than when she first opened the door.

"Yeah," Qrow muttered. "So I've been told." He held out his arms. "Can I at least get a hug first?"

Yang hesitated, staring at him with one fist plated firmly upon her hip, before she stepped forward, putting her arms around Uncle Qrow and letting him put his arms around her in tone.

"It's good to see you again, Firecracker," Qrow said.

Yang relaxed into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. "It's good to see you, too."

She let him go and stepped backwards into her room to let the three of them in. There was no sign of Ren or Nora in the dorm room, which was good; it meant that they could talk without having to worry about what they were talking about.

"Thanks for remembering to include me this time, Ruby," Yang said pointedly as she sat down on her bed.

Ruby laughed nervously.

"Don't get too mad at Ruby; it wasn't her fault," Qrow said. "Oz takes information security very seriously. The wrong people knowing the wrong things … it can get bad. Very bad."

"Is that why you didn't tell us?" Yang asked as Ruby and Penny sat down beside her, so that Ruby was sandwiched between Yang on one side and Penny on the other. "You or Dad? Because Ozpin wouldn't let you?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know," Qrow replied as he sat down opposite them, on Ren's bed in the middle of the room. "What was I supposed to do, sit you down at age six and eight and tell you there was a monster named Salem trying to collect magical relics so she can kill everyone?"

"You didn't tell us anything!" Yang replied, her eyes flashing red. "Not about Mom, about her eyes, about Ruby's eyes; Ruby has magic eyes, and we had no idea! You and Dad and Oz, you hid Mom's diary from us, her words—"

"Words about classified intel—"

"You sound like an Atlas soldier," Yang said.

Qrow winced at that as if he'd been stung by a bee. "Don't say that, it … it's not … it's complicated."

Yang folded her arms. "Complicated how?"

Qrow hesitated for a moment. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know—"

"That's obvious," Yang muttered.

"We were trying to protect you, me and your father."

"Like the way you protected us by not telling me anything about Raven, so that I put myself and Ruby in danger by going looking for her?" Yang demanded.

"Would you have rather I told you that Raven was a no-good, murdering, thieving bandit?" Qrow shot back at her. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"It's okay," Yang whispered. "I get it, I … I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have—"

"Yeah, yeah you should," Qrow replied. He sighed and groaned at the same time. "But that … that's why … Raven was the strongest person I knew; even when we were kids, she'd stand up to our Dad, stand up to grown men twice her size, and by the time we got to Beacon … she was the strongest, the toughest; she was a better fighter than your mom, easily; she could throw Summer around like a ragdoll when they sparred, and me and Tai didn't stand a chance against her, even together. And yet, all of this, Salem, the Relics, all of it … it broke her. Toughest woman I ever met, and I watched her crumble under the weight of this thing, first slowly and then all at once. That's why I didn't want you to know, why your Dad and I didn't want you to know, why I hate the fact that you're involved in this. Helping to protect the world sounds great when you're your age, just like it sounded great when I was your age; when you get to my age, you'll see it for what it is, a burden."

"All huntsmen carry that burden," Ruby pointed out.

"Not like this," Qrow muttered darkly. "Not like this. You might not want to hear it, but I'm sorry you're involved in this."

"It seems like Sunset and Pyrrha aren't the only people who want to protect you," Penny whispered into Ruby's ear.

Ruby sighed. "I think you might be right." To Uncle Qrow, she said, "You might not be, but I'm glad we found out—"

"That's because you're young."

"Maybe it is, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong and you're right; it just means you're older than me," Ruby replied. "The way I see it, I'm doing the same things any other huntress does; the difference is that I know what I'm doing, what I'm fighting against."

For a second, she expected him to tell her that she was wrong, but in the end, all that Qrow said was, "Maybe you're right. But you still didn't need to know this any earlier than you found out, either of you. What good would it have done you to know?"

"It wouldn't, I guess," Yang admitted. "So … where have you been for the last year? The last time we saw you was … yeah, it was about a year ago, when you quit teaching at Signal."

"You were a teacher?" Penny asked.

"Only part-time," Qrow replied. "But yeah, I was a combat instructor."

"Only at combat school, that means teaching us to fight grimm, not other students," Ruby explained.

Qrow's eyebrows rose. "You didn't go to combat school?"

"Um … no," Penny said. "No, I didn't. I was … homeschooled." She hiccuped.

"Really? You must be hot stuff for Oz and Jimmy to trust you anyway," Qrow remarked. "Anyway, yeah, I taught the kids a thing or two about how to handle their weapons against monsters. Ruby here was useless until I took her in hand."

"I wasn't that bad!"

"Yeah, you were," Yang said, patting her on the shoulder.

"Not a lot of people know how to handle a scythe; it's a specialist skill," Qrow said, sticking out his chest a little.

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Honestly … if I was building Crescent Rose today … I would have a sword alt-mode like your Harbinger."

Qrow smirked. "Finally found out what I tried to tell you, huh?"

"What did you try and tell her?" asked Penny.

"That a scythe is all well and good for keeping enemies at a distance, but you want options for when they close that distance and get inside your guard," Qrow explained. "That, or the ability to throw a mean right hook."

"I tried to tell you that too," Yang pointed out.

"I know, I know," Ruby said. "But if you were working for Professor Ozpin all this time, then how did you have time to teach at Signal at all? I know you weren't there all the time, but—"

"Things were quiet," Qrow said. "The enemy was passive, or at least, it seemed that way. These things, they … Oz says that they come and go. Sometimes Salem's trying something, and other times, she's licking her wounds from the last time … or planning her next attack, as the case may be."

Ruby nodded. "Professor Ozpin said that to us too; when Pyrrha was going out to fight Cinder, he told us that if she managed to win, and to kill Cinder, then it would take a while for Salem to … go back to the drawing board, I guess."

"I'd say it was a pity that she couldn't close the deal on that one," Qrow said, "but honestly, your friend is lucky to be alive."

"Why do you say that?" asked Penny. "Pyrrha's really good, she's better than Cinder, you just have to watch the video."

"Cinder … turned out to be holding back," Ruby said. "A lot."

Penny frowned. "It didn't look that way on the video."

"No," Ruby admitted. "But … when we were on our last mission, we ran into Cinder again." She decided not to get into the fact that they'd ended up working with her, in part because she was still a little … she didn't like the fact that they had done it. She understood why they'd done it, but she also couldn't stop wishing that she'd gotten the chance to take Cinder out at some point during the mission. "It turns out she's the Fall Maiden. She killed the previous Maiden and took her powers."

"'Maiden'?" Yang repeated. "You mean like Raven was talking about?"

"Magic powers," Qrow explained. "Four of them at any one time: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter."

Yang's brow furrowed. "Like the fairytale?"

"Exactly like the fairytale," Qrow agreed. "Story of the Seasons, it really happened, only instead of being immortal, it's only the magic that lives forever, passed down from host to host, always four of them at a time. When a Maiden dies, the power passes on to the last person in their thoughts — provided that they're an eligible candidate. Of course, if you kill a Maiden, there's a good chance their last thoughts will be of their attacker and bingo: you've got magic powers now."

"Magic powers that didn't stop Pyrrha from handing Cinder her ass with the trimmings," Yang pointed out.

"She was holding back," Ruby repeated. "To prove that she could beat Pyrrha without magic."

Yang snorted. "That worked well, didn't it?"

Ruby chuckled. "I guess," she admitted. "But still … she's more dangerous than we thought, and worse than we thought." Even if she did help us, she still murdered the Fall Maiden.

"That's true," Qrow said. "But what she's not is the Fall Maiden, at least…"

Ruby leaned forward. "At least not what?"

Qrow groaned. "I don't really know if I ought to tell you this, but—"

"But you're gonna," Yang said. "Right?"

Qrow stared at her, his red eyes into her eyes that were … a little bit red tinted at the moment.

"Sure," he said. "Sure, I'll tell you. Cinder lied to you about killing the previous Fall Maiden — or I should say, the current Fall Maiden. She attacked her and stole some of her power, but she didn't kill her. That's why I quit teaching last year; Oz ordered me to find the Fall Maiden when she … went missing. I caught up with her too late to protect her from Cinder, but in time to save her life and prevent Cinder from completing her theft of the Fall Maiden's power."

"Then how come Cinder was able to come into Beacon without anyone knowing who she was?" Ruby asked.

"I didn't see her face," Qrow explained. "She was … she must have had help, someone with a semblance that confused me or something; when I looked at her, all I saw was a blur, like a bad picture on TV. And with Amber in the condition she was in, I was more focussed on getting out of there than sticking around to find out who the enemy was. That was the next job Oz had for me: find who attacked Amber and where she went next." He snorted. "Of course, you figured that one out before I did."

"Amber," Penny said. "She's the Fall Maiden? That's her name?"

Qrow nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, as slowly as he had nodded his head. "That's her name."

"So where is she now?" Ruby asked. "Is she okay? I mean, obviously she's not okay, but—"

Qrow shook his head. "It's bad," he said. "It's … it's very bad. The past year, medical technology has been keeping her alive, in stasis down in the vault below the school, but that's not going to hold forever. In fact, it's not even going to last much longer. That's why…" He paused. "There are times when doing this job means doing the same thing as every other huntsman, just like you said, Ruby: saving people, hunting things. The family business. And then there are other times, when doing this job means finding some kid and telling them that you want to take someone else's aura and cram it into their body."

Penny's eyes widened. "But that technology was designed to be used on inanimate objects!" she cried. "It was never meant to be used on another person!"

"Penny?" Ruby asked. "Penny, do you know what Uncle Qrow's talking about?"

"I … I think so," Penny murmured. "My fathers created a device, a machine capable of extracting aura from a person and placing it in … something else." Penny looked at her, lip trembling. "But they only meant it to—"

"I know," Ruby said, taking Penny's hands in her own. "I know; you don't have to say it."

Yang still didn't know about Penny, after all, and Ruby had heard enough to guess what Penny hadn't said: that that machine was how she had been created: they had built Penny, programmed her, and then they had extracted the aura from … someone, presumably one or both of her fathers, and they had used this machine of theirs to bestow that aura on her along with the gift of life.

But now … all the pieces fell into place in Ruby's mind; everything became as clear as if the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds that had obscured the sky: Pyrrha and Sunset had been told everything that Uncle Qrow had just told them, about the Fall Maiden, about this Atlesian machine, which they were going to use on Pyrrha, to transfer Amber's aura to her for … some reason, Ruby didn't quite get that part, but that was why Sunset had been so upset; she wouldn't have been if Professor Ozpin and the others had asked her to do it. She might not have wanted to, and she might have gotten sad and solemn about it, but she wouldn't have snapped at Penny the way she had.

But Pyrrha … they wanted to use this on Pyrrha, and Sunset couldn't think of a way to save her, even though she wanted to.

Pyrrha…

"Why?" Ruby demanded. "Why would you … how could you?"

It was one thing to give aura to something that didn't have any, and in so doing convert a something into a someone; it was another thing to do it to someone who already had an aura of their own. Would it replace it? Mix with it like porridge when you stirred the honey in?

"What's it going to do to her?"

"We don't know for sure," Qrow said.

Ruby got up off the bed, her own eyes as wide as Penny's now, her mouth hanging open when she was not speaking. "Why … why would you do this?"

"Amber's not waking up; if she dies, then Cinder gets all the powers; this is the only way," Qrow said. "Our hope is that the remainder of her powers will be transferred along with her aura."

"And she'll be dead at the end of this," Yang said bluntly.

"I didn't say it was pretty, but the hard truth is that Amber's been dying slow for a year now; dying fast at the end won't make much difference," Qrow replied. "Now do you see why I didn't want you involved in this?"

"And you're going to do this no matter what it might do to Pyrrha?" Ruby demanded.

Qrow hung his head, but at the same time, his voice was as hard as iron as he said, "What's one girl's life against everything that's at stake?"

Ruby froze in place, as though she’d just been slapped across the face.

That was pretty much how she felt to hear those words.

It was partly the fact that it was Uncle Qrow who had said them, her uncle, who never went away but who came back with a fun story of his adventures, but more than that, it was the fact that she couldn’t say he was wrong.

Because he was right.

“There … there has to be another way,” Ruby murmured. “If … if Cinder dies—”

“How?” Qrow asked. “We don’t know where she is, and that Mistralian trick your friend pulled won’t work a second time. I hate to say it, but she had her shot and she blew it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just kill her!” Penny snapped. “You can’t … you can’t do this! Ruby, tell him! Tell him this isn’t right!”

Ruby said nothing.

Pyrrha.

If … if their positions were reversed, there was no doubt in Ruby’s mind that Pyrrha would try and talk her out of it, that Pyrrha and Sunset both would do everything they could to stop her from doing this, from going through with this procedure.

And they would be wrong. As they were always wrong and would never admit to being wrong, because they would have no argument as to why Ruby shouldn’t do it.

Say something, Penny said. But what was Ruby supposed to say? Let Amber die and Cinder get the powers? Use someone else instead, someone whose life wasn’t worth as much as Pyrrha’s?

Someone … someone who doesn’t have as much to live for?

“Don’t,” Ruby whispered. Her voice trembled, and it trembled more as it rose in volume. “Don’t do this, not to Pyrrha. If this is the only way, if it has to be done, then use me instead—”

“HELL NO!” Yang snapped, flames leaping from her golden hair, hair that turned visibly paler, lightening like sunlight as the flames spread outwards, making Penny recoil away from her. “No, no way, you are not—”

“Pyrrha has so much to live for,” Ruby said.

“You’re only fifteen; you’ve got a lot to live for!” Yang snapped. “I will break that damn machine into pieces if I have to—”

Qrow said, “Yang, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm the—”

“Ruby isn’t doing this,” Qrow said firmly. “Ozpin won’t allow it, and neither will I.”

“Because my life is worth more than Pyrrha’s?” Ruby demanded.

Qrow’s face was unflinching, and his tone flat as he said, “It is to me.”

Ruby slapped him across the face, her palm scraping across his stubbled chin. He didn’t flinch from that either.

“I don’t want you to do this either, Ruby,” Penny whispered. “I … if this is the only way, if this is the price that has to be paid to save the powers of the Fall Maiden, then let Cinder have them.”

“We can’t do that,” Qrow said.

Penny ignored him. “Ruby … Ruby, come with me. Help me stop this. Help me find Pyrrha, help me … help me.”

Ruby said nothing. She didn’t look at Penny.

The peace that endured for seventeen years was purchased with blood that was red like roses.

Pyrrha.

Ruby pulled her hood up over her head, so that no one could see her face. She hid herself beneath the shadow of the blood-red cloth. She hid her face as the tears began to fall from her silver eyes, staining her pale cheeks.

She hid her face and turned away.

She felt sick to her stomach, but this … as horrible as this was, it was also the right thing to do.

“Ruby?” Yang said, the anger dying from her voice like a fire doused in cold water.

“Ruby?” Penny asked also.

Ruby didn’t reply, to either of them. She didn’t turn back to look at them. She bowed her hood-covered face as the tears fell and said nothing.

She felt a hand upon her shoulder, a firm hand, but that didn’t narrow down who it might belong to until the owner of the hand manoeuvred around her, revealing Penny’s slightly off-white smock with the lace-trimmed front and the grey overalls she wore over the top of them.

“Ruby,” Penny whispered, reaching out with her other hand, placing her fingers under Ruby’s chin and tilting it upwards so that Ruby was looking up into Penny’s big green eyes.

Ruby’s hood fell back just a little, but not all the way.

“Oh, Ruby,” Penny said, her voice soft and gentle and breathy, in a way, even though Penny didn’t breathe. She took her hand off Ruby’s shoulder and wiped the tears away. “You don’t want this to happen, do you?”

“No,” Ruby answered, in a whisper of her own.

“Then help me stop it,” Penny implored. “Come with me, to find Pyrrha and—”

“We can’t,” Ruby said. “This…”

I don’t want to do to Sunset and Pyrrha what they always do to me.

“Sometimes,” she said, “this is the only way. Even if we have to harden our hearts to do it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Penny replied. “I won’t accept that.”

“You don’t want to,” Ruby said. “I don’t want to either, but what other choice is there?”

“I have a giant laser; I’ll shoot Cinder, Maiden or not,” Penny suggested. She paused. “I don’t know what the answer is, but I know that sacrificing one another, trading lives, isn’t it. Ruby … do I have the right to be here?”

“Yes,” Ruby said at once. “Yes, Penny, of course you do, why—?”

“Even though I could do more in Atlas?” Penny went on. “Even though I could do more for the world, help more people, as a slave in Atlas?”

“'Slave'?” Yang repeated.

Ruby ignored her. “That isn’t the same thing—”

“Isn’t it?” asked Penny. “We all have a right to life—”

“We have a right to choose,” Ruby said. “Just like Pyrrha has a choice, as awful as that choice is—”

“Then why can’t we choose to help her?” asked Penny. “There is another way, I know there is; I can’t think what it is right now, but I know it’s there.” She paused. “Or maybe not. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m too young, too naive, too stupid—”

“Nobody thinks that, Penny.”

“And if there’s really nothing else, nothing that anyone can think of, and if this is what Pyrrha wants, then … then fine,” Penny admitted. “I won’t like it, I really won’t, I want my happily ever after, but … but I won’t stand in Pyrrha’s way; I don’t have the right. But let’s at least think first, together, the five of us. Come with me. You might be right, in the end, but let’s make sure it is the end first?”

That … that was difficult to argue with, not least because Penny really was arguing with Ruby and not just dismissing what she thought, but also because who could really argue with making sure that the last resort really was before you did it?

In the end, this would be the right choice. But had they reached the end yet?

It would verge on monstrous not to make sure.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

He had hold of Pyrrha’s hand.

They were walking, but they were not going anywhere. Their feet were moving, but there was no direction to it, nothing guiding them to any place, at any place. They were just walking, aimlessly, along the cliffs or back towards the school, but then turning away again before they reached it, as though there was a forcefield keeping Pyrrha away from the tower.

Jaune didn’t push her to return there. He didn’t really want Pyrrha to go back.

Just like he didn’t want to let go of her hand; it was almost … no, there was no ‘it was almost’ about it; he was afraid that if he let go of her hand, if he let her go, then … then she would be gone. Gone before his very eyes like morning dew, or a dream disappeared at waking.

He could not let her go.

And so they walked, Pyrrha’s hand resting on his palm, enfolded by his fingers, not speaking. Pyrrha wasn’t looking at him either, though Jaune kept his eyes on her for the same reason that he didn’t dare to let go of her hand.

He wished that he knew what to say. He wished that he knew the words to make her realise what a terrible idea this was, to make her realise that she didn’t have to, couldn’t go through with this.

He wished that he knew what to say to make her stay.

She didn’t want to do this. He knew that she didn’t want to do this — she had admitted as much already — but at the same time, she felt as though she had to do this, was obliged to do it, because … because of who she was, because of what she was, because of layers of Mistralian culture and expectation and her own desire to become a hero.

A desire which, as he himself knew, could make you do some pretty stupid stuff.

And in Pyrrha’s case, it wasn’t just a desire, not just a dream, not just something cobbled together from bored nights and a feeling of malaise and all-around lack of appreciation back home; she imbued it with something like reverence almost. Pyrrha’s idea of destiny might leave a lot to her own choice, but at the same time, it was still something more than a fancy way of saying ‘this is what I want’; it was a part of her.

And he didn’t know how to say it, how to ask her to turn her back on that.

He didn’t know how to cut through it all.

He didn’t have words enough.

“Pyrrha!”

The voice was Penny’s, although Ruby wasn’t far behind her — she seemed to be pacing herself so as not to run away from Penny with her semblance. As Penny ran up towards them, Ruby looked as though she was barely jogging.

“Pyrrha,” Penny repeated. “Ruby’s uncle told us everything.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. She swallowed. “I … I see. Then—”

“Please,” Penny said. “Let’s think about this before you do anything; I’m sure that we can find some other way.”

Pyrrha closed her eyes. “Penny—”

There was a crack and a flash of green light that made Jaune flinch away and shut his eyes.

“Found you,” Sunset said, her voice ragged as though she were short of breath. “I … have been teleporting all over the school looking for you.”

“You could have just called,” Jaune pointed out.

Sunset ignored him. “Pyrrha, you don’t have to do this.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Pyrrha said, “but—”

“No, listen,” Sunset cut her off. “I’ve spoken to Ozpin, and he has agreed to let me try and save Amber before we mess around with that Atlesian machine.”

For a moment Jaune doubted that he had heard her right. 'Save Amber'? Make sure that Pyrrha wouldn’t have to get into that machine, wouldn’t have to risk herself? Make it all okay? Surely … how? How was Sunset going to do that when Ozpin’s only way forward was … to kill Pyrrha, or risk her life.

“'Save Amber'?” Pyrrha murmured, and now she looked up and into Sunset’s face. “How?”

“Using my semblance,” Sunset said. “And my magic. We’ll need Twilight’s help, to keep Amber stable, and Jaune’s help, to use his semblance to make sure her aura doesn’t give out before I’m done, but I’m pretty sure that once I’m inside her soul, I can tie off the rip that Cinder tore in her aura, which should be enough to stabilise her, hopefully bring her round.” She smiled. “I can do this, Pyrrha, I am … reasonably sure that I can do this. I can save both of you. And Ozpin believes it too. I can do this, Pyrrha. It’s all going to be okay.”

Pyrrha stared at her, silently, her lower lip trembling. “Sunset,” she whispered. “I hardly … thank you.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sunset’s forehead. “Thank you.”

Jaune let go of Pyrrha’s hand, free of fear that she would disappear the moment he did so. He released her hand, and as tears welled up in his eyes — tears of joy, tears of relief, tears that he cried because he would not have to cry, not for Pyrrha, not now — he flung his arms around Sunset in a bear hug.

“I owe you for this,” he whispered into her ear. “I owe you more than I can repay.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Jaune,” Sunset said. “You don’t owe me a thing.”

Jaune felt the fabric of Pyrrha’s glove upon the back of his neck as she put one arm around him, with the other arm drawing Ruby into their embrace.

Penny joined them from the other side, and soon, the five of them were locked together, four of them in a tangle of arms all surrounding Sunset, crushing her almost in the midst of them

Because she had brought hope to them.

And they wouldn’t let her go.

Wintry Conversation (New)

Wintry Conversation

“So,” Sunset said, “I have to admit first of all that the main reason I’m here is because I need Twilight’s help with something.”

Twilight pushed her glasses back up her nose. “My help? With what?”

“Saving a life,” Sunset replied.

“Is someone sick?” asked Spike from where he sat in Twilight’s lap.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “It’s going to take me some time to get used to the fact that you can do that.”

“It’s your fault that he can do that,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I know,” Sunset said aggrievedly. “It doesn’t mean that I find it normal.”

“Don’t dogs talk where you come from?” Spike asked.

“Not those kind of dogs,” Sunset replied, whatever that meant. Maybe they had special magic dogs that could talk and fly and Rainbow just hadn’t seen any when she was there.

“You come from a world of magical ponies,” Blake said. “I’m not sure that there’s much ‘of course’ about it.”

“Speaking of things that will take some time to get used to,” Ciel murmured.

“The times change, and we must change with them,” Midnight declared as her holographic avatar appeared above Twilight’s scroll where it sat on the desk that ran along the wall. Midnight appeared to be suspended about half an inch above the device, floating there. “If we do not move with the times and the demands that they place on us, we will stagnate and die.”

“Um … yeah, thanks for that,” Rainbow said. She cleared her throat. “So … is somebody sick?”

“Wounded might be a better word for it,” Sunset replied. She paused for a moment. “Her name is Amber, and she’s the Fall Maiden.”

Sunset stood in the middle of the RSPT dorm room at Beacon. Penny wasn’t there — she was with the other members of Team SAPR — but Blake was, leaning against the wall, one leg cocked up so that her foot was braced against the plasterwork. Rainbow sat on Twilight’s bed, with Twilight sat beside her and Spike sitting in Twilight’s lap.

Ciel sat on the other side of the room, legs together and hands in her lap. As Sunset spoke, her brow furrowed.

“'Fall Maiden'?” she asked. “You say that as though she would be familiar with the concept.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose as she looked at Rainbow Dash. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“We’ve all been busy,” Rainbow replied defensively.

“Told me what?” Ciel asked. “Have you been keeping me in the dark?”

“No,” Rainbow insisted. “It’s just that you weren’t in Atlas when we found out, and then the right time to tell you never came up.”

“It appears to have come up now,” Ciel pointed out. “If only by necessity.”

“Right, yes, you’re right about that,” Rainbow admitted. She patted her hands on her knees. “Okay, where to begin … how much do you know about fairy tales?”

“I have read them to my brothers, when they were younger,” Ciel said. “Or when they are young still, in some cases. I believe they inspired Aurelien; his own writing is very clearly influenced by that style.”

“Really?” asked Midnight. “Do you have any examples that I could look at?”

Ciel looked at her. “You wish to … read my brother’s stories?”

“Am I not allowed my curiosity?” asked Midnight.

“I suppose you are,” Ciel allowed. “Although I would not have thought a computer program would enjoy fiction.”

“On the contrary, when you can calculate and process at superfast speeds, one comes to appreciate distractions,” Midnight said.

“Ahem,” Sunset said.

“Cover your mouth,” Midnight said sternly. “What is his favourite story, if I may ask?”

“Aurelien? The Girl in the Tower,” Ciel said. “He enjoys the … metatextual aspects of it, the way the heroine writes herself into a fairy story by employing the tropes of the genre to manipulate her own life.”

“What about the Story of the Seasons?” asked Sunset.

“Alain is rather fond of that one,” Ciel answered. “I quite like it myself, its sensibility … it has echoes of our faith and of how the Lady teaches us that we should treat the elderly and the lonely.”

She paused for a moment, glancing at the watch she wore on her wrist. It was new; Rainbow hadn’t seen her wearing it until recently, until they were on the flight back to Vale from Atlas. It was one of a few new watches that Ciel had started wearing — or at least that Rainbow had first seen Ciel start wearing — on the flight back to Vale from Atlas. They were all similar, small and compact but not completely plain, with little decorations on them and suchlike. The one she was wearing today was gold, although Ciel seemed to prefer the silver one, or at least, she seemed to wear it more than the others.

Rainbow was ninety percent sure that they were the watches that had belonged to the old lady in Mantle, not least because she was sure the wooden box under Ciel’s bed was the same box that they’d taken from the old lady’s killer. The ten percent doubt was only because she hadn’t confirmed it with Ciel yet.

It wasn’t an easy question to ask: nice watches; are they the ones someone was murdered over?

Still, she was pretty sure. It must have meant a lot to old Mrs. Peterson, Ciel coming around like she did, for her to have left her anniversary gifts to Ciel the way that she had — it was the only explanation for why she had them; it was possible the woman’s relatives had given them away, but less likely. Rainbow didn’t even know if the old woman had had any relatives.

No, it was more plausible to her that Ciel had been left them, which meant that her company must have meant a lot to the old woman.

I can see why the story of the Maidens would appeal to you in that case.

Although it occurred to Rainbow Dash that if the old man had stuck to leaving the four sisters with a box of watches or the like by way of thanks, then…

Then Twilight would be dead.

Rainbow’s hand strayed to Twilight’s arm, taking her by the wrist. No, no matter how much trouble might have been caused by the Maidens and their magic, their existence was worth it if it meant that Twi was here too.

Ciel’s fingers strayed to the watch on her wrist, her fingertip brushing against it before she said, “I take it that this is your attempt to get things back on topic, and that it is the Story of the Seasons that is of some relevance to all of this?”

“It’s true,” Rainbow said bluntly.

Ciel looked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a true story,” Rainbow repeated. “The old man, the four sisters … the only part that isn’t true is that the four sisters didn’t become immortal. They died, but they passed their powers on to other girls. We don’t know how but—”

“We do now,” Sunset said. “The powers go to the last person in the Maiden’s thoughts before they die.”

“'Maiden'?” Ciel repeated. “That is the name for these … inheritors? The descendants, as it were, of the four sisters.”

“It is,” Sunset agreed.

“I see,” Ciel murmured. She paused for a moment. “So, there was an old man who possessed great magical power, and he bestowed it upon four sisters in … some time long ago.”

“That’s about the size of it, yeah,” Rainbow said.

“As a reward for the virtue they had displayed,” Twilight added.

“Quite a reward,” Ciel murmured. “You are certain of this? May one ask how?”

“Ozpin confirmed it,” Sunset said.

“Don’t you usually call him Professor Ozpin?” asked Twilight.

“And I will probably do so again in future, but right now, I don’t really feel like according him that level of respect,” Sunset muttered.

“So magic has existed from ancient times to now?” Ciel asked.

“Just like the stories suggest,” Twilight said. “If you know how to read between the lines.”

“Indeed,” Ciel said. “I suppose you were quite pleased to learn of all this.”

Twilight chuckled. “I was … I wasn’t sorry to find it out, let’s put it like that.”

Ciel nodded. “So, Team Sapphire discovered this, and you shared it with Blake and with every member of Team Rosepetal but myself?”

“You weren’t around!” Rainbow cried.

“You could have called.”

“Would you really have wanted to talk about this on the scroll?” asked Rainbow. “Besides, your brothers might have heard — or Neon.”

“That … is a fair point,” Ciel admitted. “Although I do wish that Neon knew the truth, I dislike keeping secrets from her.”

“Then tell her,” Sunset said.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “No,” she said. “No, I could not do that. General Ironwood has not authorized it, and if he wished to do so, he could tell her himself, which means that he does not wish her to know.”

“And?”

“And I have no desire to defy the General’s wishes in this,” Ciel replied. “I trust his judgement on to whom the circle of knowledge should extend.”

“Then maybe you should leave the room; I don’t have permission to tell you about some of this,” Sunset said blithely.

“Then perhaps you should keep silent,” Ciel countered.

“Perhaps I should,” Sunset said. “But I won’t.”

She paused a moment. “I met Ruby’s uncle today, Ozpin’s field agent.”

“Qrow, isn’t it?” Blake said. “What’s he like?”

“His breath reeks,” Sunset muttered. “And he didn’t seem too fond of me or Pyrrha, or your General either, for that matter. But he said something to me, to both of us, to me and Pyrrha when we went up to see him. He said that this … this thing that we’re in, this battle, it kills some people and it breaks others.”

She shoved her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. “And you know … I can’t help wondering if the reason why some people are broken by this … I can get it, I can absolutely get it, I understand why … it’s a lot, I think we all know that, it’s a lot to take in. A lot to carry. But my point is, I wonder if the reason why it breaks some people isn’t so much that they’re weak but that they didn’t have enough people to turn to, people to count on, people to whom they could unburden themselves, who could support them when the going got tough.”

Rainbow tightened her grip on Twi’s wrist, then immediately loosed it again as soon as she realized what she was doing. What Sunset was saying made a lot of sense, it made perfect sense, in fact. It would be nice, it would be better than nice, it would be great to be able to tell Applejack everything, and … yeah, yeah, it would be nice to tell everyone everything, even Pinkie and Rarity and Fluttershy, even though they weren’t huntresses and had no cause to get involved in any way. It would just be nice to be able to tell them what she knew, to be able to share it. To share it and have them understand what she was going through.

It would be nice, but it would also be selfish, because it would share Rainbow’s burden by putting it on her friends, and that … Rainbow didn’t wish it on them. Certainly, she didn’t wish it just so she could feel better. And that was what Sunset was proposing, really; yes, she was proposing it for better reasons, for sensible reasons, but all the same, she was talking about putting the weight on your friends to make it easier for you.

“Then make the argument to General Ironwood or Professor Ozpin,” Ciel said. “Not to me. As for the secrets that you ought not—”

“I may not have explicit permission, but I do have it implicitly,” Sunset replied. “Ozpin has approved this thing that I need Twilight’s help with.”

“The saving of the Fall Maiden’s life?” Twilight asked.

“Precisely,” Twilight agreed.

“The current possessor of one fourth of the magic that has been passed down through the ages,” Ciel said. “The others being Winter, Spring, and Summer, one presumes.”

“Precisely,” Sunset agreed. “Each Maiden controls access to one of the four Relics from the gods that Salem is after.”

“That element is not in the fairy story,” Ciel pointed out.

“I’m not sure what the connection is, but it’s a thing,” said Sunset. “Ozpin confirmed it.”

“You know I’m not a doctor, right?” Twilight said. “My specialties are in robotics and computing, not biology. I’m not sure how much help I can be in treating someone’s injury or illness. Surely, there are doctors who can help, they wouldn’t have to know that this person—”

“Her name is Amber.”

“Amber then, they wouldn’t have to know that she was the Fall Maiden in order to treat her,” Twilight said.

“As much to the point,” Blake added, “why were you and Pyrrha told about this; neither of you have any medical skill.”

Sunset pursed her lips. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, that…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “The Fall Maiden — Amber — was attacked by Cinder, a while ago, before the school year started, I think. She stole some of her magic … and ripped her aura while she was about it.”

“'Ripped her aura'?” repeated Blake. “That … is that even possible?”

“Aura can be severed,” Twilight declared.

“It can?” Blake asked.

“You sound surprised,” said Midnight. “When aura can be broken, diminished, damaged, why not severed also?”

“Because broken, damaged, or diminished aura comes back,” Blake said, her voice rising a little. “What happens to aura that is ripped or severed, and how do you know that?”

“Because the Atlesians have a machine to do it,” Sunset said in a voice that was halfway to being a growl. “And you know about it, don’t you?”

“That’s right, I was a minor part of the project that designed and built it,” Twilight said. “How do you…?” She paled. “Oh no. Oh no, they … they couldn’t possibly…”

“Twi?” Rainbow said, twisting around to get a better look at her. “Twi, what is it?”

“What’s wrong, Twilight?” asked Spike.

Blake began, “Why would you build a machine that—?”

“For Penny,” Twilight said, before Blake could finish. “How do you think that she has aura? Her fathers didn’t just design and build Penny; they built a machine capable of surgically removing part of their auras, severing it from their selves and grafting it onto Penny’s robotic body prior to activation.”

“So … both their auras combined together?” Sunset said, softly, quietly. “To form a single thing, different from Penny’s fathers?”

Twilight nodded. “That’s right. Penny opened her eyes, and … there she was, Penny Polendina, her own person.” She paused. “I know that it sounds bad, but … it was just a tool, to accomplish a necessary purpose, something that they needed in order to create Penny, like making a new screwdriver for a specific reason. It was never … neither of them envisaged…”

Rainbow licked her lips. She wasn’t going to like the answer to this question, but it didn’t feel like she could avoid answering it. “Envisaged what?”

“Using it on … using it to transfer aura from one living person to another,” Twilight whispered.

“Good God,” Ciel murmured.

Blake stepped forward away from the wall. “What would that have done to the recipient?”

“Pyrrha,” Sunset said, the word landing on the carpet with the thump of a lump of iron. “It was Pyrrha that they chose for this.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed sharply, creasing her forehead. Pyrrha. Of course it was Pyrrha, not — or at least not only — because she was good, but because they wanted a Mistralian to do this because a Mistralian with their head full of crap would go along with this no matter the consequences.

Something the General would have known as well as anyone, though she hoped that … that it might have inspired him to think differently about it.

“Pyrrha,” Blake murmured. “What … what would it have done to her?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said. “It’s never been tested, it was never even theorized, like I said, that was never the intention behind building it.”

“But the two auras merged in Penny, right?” Rainbow said. “That means that…”

She trailed off, because that thought kind of finished itself, didn’t it? The two auras had merged and become Penny, her own person, all new.

“It’s possible that the amount of aura being transferred, the amount the recipient already had, would make a difference,” Twilight suggested. “But … I don’t know. I don’t really want to think about it.”

Blake began, “And Professor Ozpin was going to—”

“Ozpin, General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch, Ruby’s uncle,” Sunset said. “They were all there.”

“No way,” Rainbow said. “There’s no way that—”

“What?” Sunset demanded. “No way that General Ironwood would do something like that?” She ran one hand through her hair, and her tail hung limp behind her, for a few seconds anyway. Her ears drooped right down, then perked up again halfway. “Look … I’m not very happy with Ozpin at the moment, but I think that he … I don’t think that he wanted to go through with it; he just … I can’t believe I’m defending this, but I think he felt out of options. Amber’s been dying for a whole year; her aura wasn’t neatly severed, it was ripped, and… you know how when you rip fabric or something, it starts to unravel?”

“Depends on the fabric,” Rainbow said quietly, because she’d spent enough time with Rarity to know that, even if she couldn’t name the fabrics.

“Anyway, that’s what’s been happening to Amber’s aura,” Sunset said. “She’s been kept in stasis, but that’s only slowing the process down, not stopping it.”

“And yet you spoke of saving her,” Midnight pointed out. “After all, that is why you are here, no?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “That is why I’m here. I think, and as I said, I have permission to try and save Amber without anyone … without her aura needing to be transferred; I think I can tie it off using my semblance and my magic.”

“Your semblance?” Rainbow asked.

“Touch telepathy,” Sunset said. “Or empathy. Or a bit of both. When I touch someone with my hand, I experience their memories, their feelings, and not just in a 'seeing them' way; it’s like … it’s as if I enter their mind, their soul. That’s why I started wearing gloves.” She held up one hand. “And that’s why I think that I can get into Amber’s soul and repair the damage to her aura.”

“Then what do you need my help with?” asked Twilight.

“Amber’s being kept alive in stasis,” Sunset repeated, “but I need to take her out of that in order to use my semblance on her, so she needs to be kept alive while I’m inside her soul, or her mind. Jaune can keep her aura stimulated using his semblance, but I thought that if we could keep her temperature down, then that would help too.”

Twilight nodded. “That is basically how a stasis chamber works, using low temperatures to slow down bodily processes. An ice bath would work in the short term, maybe some medical drugs to slow her heart rate … we could induce a coma?”

“I’d rather not,” Sunset said. “My hope is that she wakes up at the end of this.”

“Do you think that’s likely?” asked Twilight. “It sounds like she’s been through a lot.”

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t, once the damage to her aura is repaired,” Sunset said.

“Do you know what effect having her aura ripped up will have had on her?” asked Rainbow. “I mean, other than the fact that it almost killed her, or is killing her right now. I mean … you know what I mean, right? Just like having someone’s aura put in you might affect that person, having your aura taken away might do something to you as well.”

“Neither Doctor Polendina seemed any different after giving up a part of their aura to Penny,” Twilight replied, “but there might be a difference between a controlled severance and an uncontrolled tear.”

“But whatever the intentions of Penny’s fathers for their machine, they must have considered what the machine would do to them,” Blake pointed out. “After all, that was why they built it.”

“Yes,” Twilight agreed. “Yes, they discussed what might happen if they allowed some of their aura to be extracted. They considered that their semblances would be weakened, or might disappear altogether, memory loss…”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “And they decided to go through with this anyway? With all those possible risks?”

“They really wanted Penny,” Twilight explained. “Plus, they thought the risks were actually quite minimal. But, even if they hadn’t been … they really wanted Penny.”

“But they thought it was minimal,” Sunset said. “And nothing happened to them?”

“No,” Twilight said. “Nothing happened, as far as anyone could tell.”

“Good,” Sunset replied. “And, to be honest, even if there were side effects, wouldn’t it be better than dying? She’ll be alive; anything else can be worked through.”

“That’s … hard to argue with,” Twilight admitted.

“Exactly,” Sunset said. “So … we’ll talk more in the morning, work through the details, okay?”

“Uh, sure,” Twilight said softly.

“Good,” Sunset said. “Great.” She paused, looking unsure for a second, looking down at the floor. “Right, well … I’ll see you tonight then.” She turned away.

“Hey, Sunset,” Twilight called to her, “are you… are you sure that you can do this?”

Sunset looked at her over her shoulder. “I’m sure I’m going to try,” she said. She nodded. “Goodnight.” She walked to the door and out of the room.

The dorm room door swung shut behind her with a thud.

The memory of last night was in Rainbow’s mind the next morning as she stood just beyond the docking pads, looking out across Vale.

It was still — just — dark, or at least as dark as it ever got in a big city, with all the lights still on in Vale down below. They would start turning off soon, as the sun rose in the east over the mountains that, though she couldn’t see them, she knew were there. But, for now, it was still kind of dark, with the lights of the city looking a little like reflections of the stars in the sky — although what that made all the lights of the Atlesian airships, Rainbow couldn’t have said.

Anyway, there she stood, not on the docking pads but close by, standing on one leg, her left foot resting upon her right knee, her palms together in front of her chest.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Rainbow’s yoga felt especially important this morning for clearing her head, or at least for getting it clear enough that she could think about all this stuff.

She wished that General Ironwood hadn’t been a part of that meeting that Sunset and Pyrrha had gone to yesterday.

She wished that very much.

She wished that the General hadn’t been prepared to sacrifice Pyrrha, without even giving her a fighting chance.

She wished that they were better than that.

The best that Rainbow could think about all of this was that the General, like her, had to follow orders — Professor Ozpin’s orders, in his case — and that, like her, there came a point at which he had to trust his superior.

As she had said to Ruby, what seemed a very long time ago, at some point, you had to accept that just because you didn’t understand why something was being done — or wasn’t being done — just because something didn’t make sense from your perspective didn’t mean that it didn’t make sense — it wasn’t necessary — from the perspective of someone who was higher up, who saw more, saw further, had more information.

She had said all of that, she’d meant all of that, she still believed all of that, it wasn’t her place to set herself up as having all the answers, to turn around and say that General Ironwood was wrong. But, at the same time, she was having a hard time coming up with things that he and Professor Ozpin might know that would make this okay.

Which was why she found herself hoping that General Ironwood hadn’t been okay with it but had been stuck just following orders, trusting Professor Ozpin, hoping that he knew enough to make this all worthwhile.

She hoped that he hadn’t actually thought this was a good idea.

She took another deep breath in, and then breathed out deeply, long and slow, to let the air circulate all through her body.

I get that it’s special circumstances, but is the magic really that big a deal? I mean, they were taken out once before, right? So what if Cinder gets all of the magic? Just kill her then.

Don’t kill two people to get half the powers and then you have to kill Cinder to get the other half.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Trust. Trust the General. Trust the man that you owe everything to. Trust the man who always does the right thing.

Trust him, like he has to trust Professor Ozpin.

Trust the system.

Of course, the other thing that Rainbow and Ruby had talked about, when they had talked about duty and obedience, was what to do if you really thought that your superior had made — or was making — the wrong choice. What Olivia had done: go to her king, talk to him, plead with him, make him see, or else be made to see. Well, wasn’t that what Sunset had done? She’d seen a bad idea, she’d had a better one, she’d gone to Professor Ozpin with her better plan, and he had recognized its superiority and given the green light.

From that perspective, everything was working precisely as it was meant to.

She just wished their superiors hadn’t come up with such a bad plan in the first place.

“May I join you?” Pyrrha asked, her voice coming in from behind Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow didn’t turn or look around — it was hard to do that while standing on one leg — so she just said, “Uh, sure. If you want to.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “Blake told me this was quite invigorating.”

“She didn’t like it enough to come back,” Rainbow muttered. She grinned. “I guess that’s why she called it invigorating instead of relaxing.”

Pyrrha chuckled as she came to stand at Rainbow’s side. “I suppose. She did say it wasn’t something she could face doing every morning, but that wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy it. She also told me there might be a nice view at the end of it all.”

“I hope so,” Rainbow said; she glanced at Pyrrha, who appeared to have gotten fully dressed in her huntress outfit, her armour gleaming very faintly in the pre-dawn light, a little glimmer on her brow where her circlet caught that same light.

“You’re dressed early,” Rainbow observed.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Pyrrha said. “I don’t have as much to think about as I might have done, I suppose, but, nevertheless, I couldn’t sleep.” She raised her left leg, placing her booted foot upon her knee. “It’s like this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “It’s like that exactly. You know, I think this is originally Mistralian.”

“I think you might be right,” Pyrrha replied, “but that doesn’t mean I have any familiarity with it.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll go easy on you.” She knelt down on the grass, feeling it beneath her fingers and upon the palms of her hands. “Deep breaths, and let’s start with a cat pose.”

Pyrrha was a lot better at this than Blake. Where Blake had struggled to match Rainbow’s movements, the positions of her body, the transitions from pose to pose, Pyrrha was a natural at it. Rainbow had thought that her outfit might give her some trouble, but apparently, although it might look like a corset, it was actually surprisingly flexible. Pyrrha matched Rainbow pose for pose — not that it was a contest — even the ones like Tech-Savvy Donkey or Horse on a Bike, moving her legs, her arms, her whole body just right, stretching and twisting herself with ease.

“You’re good,” Rainbow said as she settled herself down on the ground, sitting cross-legged — that, ironically, was what seemed to give Pyrrha the most trouble with her armoured greaves and cuisses — waiting for the sunrise to break out over Vale. “Better than Blake. Better than I was expecting.”

“I prefer to dodge hits than take them,” Pyrrha said. “That means I need to be able to twist my body at least a little.”

“More than a little,” Rainbow told her. She placed her hands upon her knees and took a deep breath. “So … can I ask how you’re feeling, or do you not want to talk about it?”

“I think that if I didn’t want to talk about it, I would hardly be here, would I?” asked Pyrrha.

Rainbow grinned. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. But if you really don’t want to, then—”

“I feel relieved, obviously,” Pyrrha murmured. “That I won’t have to go through with it, to … submit to … I feel relieved. I felt relieved all night, all day since Sunset told me that she had found another way forward, and yet—”

“You still couldn’t sleep,” Rainbow said.

Pyrrha sighed. “No,” she admitted. “No, I could not.”

Rainbow gave her a second, more, in case there was anything more that she felt like saying. It wasn’t clear that there was, at least not right away.

She decided to give it a second longer.

“They gave me a choice,” Pyrrha said. “Professor Ozpin, General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch. They didn’t order me to get into that device—”

“I feel as though I ought to apologise on behalf of Atlas for the fact that we even have that,” Rainbow said.

“As I understand, it was created for Penny’s sake,” Pyrrha said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied. “Yeah, that’s what Twilight tells me.”

“In which case, it hardly needs apology,” Pyrrha said. “Without it … hardly bears thinking about. But, in any case, my point is that I was given the choice. I wasn’t ordered to do it; I was asked. I could have said no.”

“Would you?” Rainbow asked. “Would you have said no?”

Pyrrha paused. “No,” she said softly. “No, I would not.”

“Why not?”

Pyrrha looked at her. “Because if I had refused, then Professor Ozpin would have had to turn to someone else — you or Blake or Ruby or someone, anyone else — and asked them to do what I would not, to suffer the consequences that I would not entertain. How could I put someone else in that position?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess,” Rainbow murmured. “But if not anyone else, if this isn’t something that anyone else should have to do — and I agree with you, it’s not — then that gets back to, well, why you? What makes you so special that you should have to do this?”

“Nothing,” Pyrrha said. “But that I was the one they chose. Honour pricked me on.”

“Pricked you … you’re not talking to Sunset here, you know; you’re going to have to use words I can understand,” Rainbow said, with a little laughter in her voice. “Mind you, I understand honour, so I understand what you’re saying. I think. The thing about honour, though, is…” She trailed off for a few moments.

“You don’t die for honour,” she declared. “Any more than you die for clan or house or any of that other Mistralian stuff, you just … you just die.”

“You have a problem with Mistral?” Pyrrha asked.

“Not with Mistral, or with Mistralians,” Rainbow said quickly. “You seem like a very nice person, even though this might be the first time we’ve actually spoken to one another, and everyone seems to really like you, and you’re all great, I’m sure. I’ve got nothing against the people or the place; it’s just … your culture has so much power over you, and it … that’s what I have a problem with, these ideals, these ideas, the lengths that you people will go to to live up to this … you risk too much, for too little cause, that’s all. That’s how I see it, anyway.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “I … I suppose it depends on what one thinks is worth dying for,” she murmured.

“Mmm,” Rainbow muttered. “Yeah, I guess it does. Or what you think is worth living for.”

The sun rose, cresting the far off mountains, clearing the horizon of their sight, the warm glow of its rays bathing Vale in light, driving off the darkness. The sky began to lighten before their very eyes, the dark transforming into a dark blue. The lights were still on in Vale, and would be for a few hours yet, but already, the world was brighter, and felt brighter too.

Rainbow and Pyrrha watched for a moment as the sun illuminated the world before them, the mountains suddenly visible, and the great expanse of forest and field that lay between the mountains and the city walls.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Pyrrha said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Not as great as Atlas, mind.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Nor the view from the high slopes of Mistral. But still, quite a view.”

Rainbow nodded. “If you enjoyed this, then you should get Jaune out of bed to do it sometime.”

Pyrrha glanced at her. “Yes. Yes, I might do that,” she said. “That’s a very good idea.”

“I’ll find somewhere else to do my stretches that morning,” Rainbow assured her. She paused for a moment. “You’ve got a lot to live for, you know. You're loving, and beloved, isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha murmured. “I hope so with half of my heart, and with the other, I yet hope for something … grander, nobler … more glorious perhaps, if you’ll forgive my vanity.”

“There’s nothing wrong with glory, if you can win it,” Rainbow allowed. “Just remember … glory is best enjoyed alive.”

Pyrrha might have said something else, but even as her mouth opened, she looked behind her, her body twisting at the hips, as she and Rainbow turned to see Starlight Glimmer approaching them.

She was walking with a shambling walk, as though she’d just stumbled out of bed — there was probably no ‘as though’ about it; she’d just stumbled out of bed — still dressed in her Atlas standard issue pyjamas, plus boots and socks. Her hair hadn’t been combed yet and was a mess of tangled bedhead, and she covered her mouth with one hand as she yawned.

“Hey, Rainbow Dash,” she muttered. “What did you—?” She stopped as she noticed Pyrrha’s presence. “Sorry, I didn’t realise that you had company.”

Pyrrha started to get up. “I can—”

“You can stay, if you want; you can hear this too,” Rainbow said. “Starlight, this is Pyrrha Nikos—”

“Yeah, I know; I haven’t lived under a rock,” Starlight said. She held out one hand. “Starlight Glimmer of Team Tsunami.”

Pyrrha finished rising to her feet and took Starlight’s hand. “Pyrrha Nikos, at your service.”

“I’ll try not to take advantage of that,” Starlight replied. “So, Rainbow, what did you want to talk about that you dragged me out of bed this early?”

“I did you a favour, you can get some early morning training in.”

“With who? You think Trixie’s awake right now?”

“Tempest?”

“Maybe,” Starlight said quietly. “Anyway, what is this about?”

“Sit down,” Rainbow urged, gesturing to the spots on either side of her. “Take in the view.”

“If I sit down, I’m going to fall asleep,” Starlight muttered, but she did sit down on Rainbow’s right-hand side. Pyrrha resumed sitting on Rainbow’s left, where she had been before.

Starlight swayed a little, and made as though she was going to lean on Rainbow’s shoulder, but righted herself just in time.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try and keep it together, but forget training; I’m going back to bed.”

“Long night?” Rainbow asked.

Starlight nodded. “Trixie and I have been watching every video of every team that might be competing in the Vytal Festival to see if we can work out strategies.”

“You could have just made notes watching them in combat class,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Is that what you did?” Starlight asked.

“I have mental notes,” Rainbow replied. “So, against Pyrrha, I’d try and close the distance with my super speed and push you out of the arena before you could respond.”

“You … would be welcome to try that approach,” Pyrrha said.

Obviously, she didn’t think it would work.

Probably, it wouldn’t work perfectly, but then, in a battle, things rarely worked perfectly; that was why you needed to be able to think on your feet.

Rainbow’s second strategy would be to weave around her, shooting her from mid-range while using her greater speed to stay out of contact.

“Anyway,” Rainbow said. “Thanks for agreeing to come out here and meet me.”

“Sure, sure,” Starlight said, or at least, that was what Rainbow thought she said, given the way that she was yawning. “But what is this about?”

Rainbow hesitated for a second. “This … Starlight … are you the Winter Maiden?”

Starlight’s eyes widened, all tiredness seeming to disappear from her, the effect of Rainbow’s words acting like a double espresso or one of Pinkie’s sugar rush breakfasts.

“You … both of you…”

“We know about the Maidens, yeah,” Rainbow said.

Starlight’s mouth opened, and then closed. “Well … if you know, then maybe I should be asking you if you’re Maidens.”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “We do not … we aren’t.”

Starlight nodded slowly. “And neither am I,” she said. “I’m not the Winter Maiden.”

Rainbow frowned. “But you said to Twilight—”

“I dropped the name to see if it meant anything to her,” Starlight said, “because it was the only name I knew, the only piece of the puzzle that I had, but I was right, wasn’t I? There was something going on with your team, and Team Sapphire, and that business in Mountain Glenn; there was something going on.”

“Something, yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “I’m not sure it’s something that we can talk about, though.”

“Then there’s more to it,” Starlight said. “More that General Ironwood is hiding than just the Maidens.”

Rainbow licked her lips. “You could say that, yeah.”

“I don’t know why you trust him so much,” Starlight said.

“Because he’s trustworthy!”

“Is he?” Starlight asked.

“Yes!” Rainbow cried. “The General has always come through for me.”

“The General chose me and asked me to sign away my life to become a living container for magic that I would have to keep secret until the day I died,” Starlight said. She closed her eyes. “I understand that someone has to do it, and I’m sure that General Ironwood means well and acts with good intentions, but … I have to be honest, and I’ve said this to Blake already, the way that you and so many others put him up on a pedestal, it … he’s just a man, he can make mistakes, and it does no one any good to pretend that he doesn’t.”

“I know that General Ironwood can make mistakes,” Rainbow replied. “I pointed out one of them to him myself recently. But I also know that he does always try to do the right thing, and that’s what I trust: that for everything he does, every decision he makes, there’s a motive behind it that makes sense, even if it isn’t obvious to me.”

“You were chosen, you say?” Pyrrha asked. “Chosen to become the Winter Maiden? But you didn’t?”

Starlight nodded. “The Winter Maiden was ill,” she explained. “They thought that she might die, General Ironwood, and Professor Ozpin of Beacon. He was there too; I’m not sure why, but he must know all about this. The two of them called me into the hospital, and they told me all about it. Told me that I’d been chosen to be the next to receive the Winter Maiden’s power. They made it sound as though I’d been chosen by someone other than the two of them.”

“And…” Pyrrha hesitated. “How … how were you to receive it?”

“They were going to keep the Winter Maiden confined, with me as her only visitor,” Starlight said. “You know how the power transfers, right?”

“To the last person that the Maiden thinks about,” Rainbow said quietly.

“Right,” Starlight agreed. “So, by making my face the face that she would see—”

“They would make it likely that you would be in her thoughts,” Pyrrha finished. “That does not sound too inhumane.”

“No, no, it doesn’t,” Starlight said. “That wasn’t why I … I didn’t run away because what they were doing to my would-be predecessor was so awful, or even because I’d be hunted for the magic — they didn’t tell me that, by the way; it was just the obvious inference from the insistence that they had to be kept secret. Was I right about that?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I thought so,” Starlight replied. “I could have handled that, I’m not a coward, I can accept danger. I could accept that someone might come after me. What I couldn’t accept was … the responsibility. They made it sound so heavy. And so lonely. I didn’t want to be alone. And so I … well, you know what happened. And now you know why.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said quietly. “Thanks for telling us this, Starlight. It makes sense that you’re not the Maiden; we couldn’t understand why you’d be put at risk if you were.”

“Glad I could help,” Starlight said dryly. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to ask what you’re involved in because you can’t tell, and you probably wouldn’t,” Starlight said, “but I’m going to assume that it’s dangerous. So … take care of yourself, won’t you? And take care of Twilight too, and Blake for that matter.”

“Blake doesn’t need anyone to take care of her.”

“Everyone needs someone to take care of them, sometime,” Starlight replied. “Even me. Even you. And even Blake, but especially Twilight.”

“Twilight is going back to the lab where she belongs as soon as this year is over,” Rainbow said. “But yeah, I’ll take care of them. All of them. It’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Starlight smiled, although it was a tight smile around her mouth. “Yeah, you are,” she said. “And now, if you’ll excuse me,” — she got up — “my bed is calling out for my return, and I can hear it all the way out here. Unless there’s anything else you want to ask.”

Who is the Winter Maiden? No, that wasn’t information that they needed to know. It was kept secret for a reason. It was one of those things that you had to trust, that General Ironwood would have told them who the Winter Maiden was if they needed to know their identity.

“No,” Rainbow said. “No, there’s nothing else. Thanks, Starlight.”

“Sure thing,” Starlight said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d want to know as well.” She paused. “You’re not Maidens, but … have either of you been offered to be?”

Neither Rainbow nor Pyrrha said anything. Rainbow wasn’t sure how Pyrrha would want to play it, and it was, after all, her secret to tell — if something could be a secret when nine people knew about it so far — not Rainbow’s.

“So that’s a yes,” Starlight said tartly. “You don’t have to tell me which of you it is, or maybe it’s neither of you but one of your teammates, but if I were you … well, it’s pretty obvious, but I wouldn’t go through with it. It asks too much.”

“But it is a worthy cause, is it not?” asked Pyrrha.

“So it’s you, then,” Starlight replied. “'A worthy cause'? Maybe. But a worthy cause is why I’m here. They can ask me to volunteer my body and my life, and I’ve done both, gladly enough. But there are some things they don’t have the right to ask, and cutting yourself off from all others, from friendship, support, companionship … that’s more than I signed on for, more than anyone signed on for. How I see it, at least; you can make up your own mind. Just think about it carefully, before you do. See you around, Dash.”

Rainbow nodded. “See you, Starlight.”

She watched for a few moments as Starlight walked away, quickly getting onto the path that led back from the docking pads towards the school. Only as Starlight got closer to the great courtyard did Rainbow turn her attention back onto Pyrrha. “'A worthy cause'?”

Pyrrha did not look in the least bit ashamed or embarrassed. “I admit that the idea of having to remain in Vale, never being able to return home to Mistral, I confess that that caused me some degree of discomfort and unease at first, before I knew about Amber. But, nevertheless, if it were not for the manner in which the power was to be given to me … I would have taken it.”

“Because you want it?”

“Because it is a worthy thing, to keep such power out of the hands of evil,” Pyrrha replied. “Though it would be worthier to use such powers for good, to keep them safe is, nevertheless, worthy. And I would do something worthy, and of use to the world, though the use be passive and unknown to most. On the elevator ride down to the vault beneath the school, Sunset told me that it was like ascension, the way that, amongst her people, those who are judged worthy transform into something … grander.”

“I think I’ve met one who ascended,” Rainbow replied. “Wings aside, she didn’t seem that different. Nobody treated her that differently either, that I saw.”

“Then could the same not be true of a Maiden?” asked Pyrrha.

“It isn’t,” Rainbow answered.

“But it could be,” Pyrrha repeated. “I do not believe Jaune would abandon me, simply because I had been bestowed with magic.” She smiled. “Loving and beloved. Did you not say that was enough?”

Rainbow smiled. “Okay, you have me there. I can’t argue with that now, can I?”

Pyrrha laughed ever so softly. “Of course, it’s all academic now, in any case.”

“For now,” Rainbow said. “Winter, Spring, Summer; I bet the next time a spot opens up, Professor Ozpin will keep your name in mind.”

“You make it sound like promotion opportunities in a corporate enterprise,” Pyrrha said. “Or a sports team.”

“It kind of is,” Rainbow said. “Professor Ozpin is the CEO, and he decides who gets the big promotion.”

“I … suppose,” Pyrrha admitted. The smile returned to her face. “Thank you, Rainbow Dash, that was quite a pleasant way to begin the morning. And I’ll definitely think about asking Jaune to join me next time.” She stood up. “But for now, I think I’ll go for a run around the grounds before I return to the dorm room. Would you like to join me, in turn?”

Rainbow grinned. “That wouldn’t be much of a race, would it?”

“You might be surprised.”

“No,” Rainbow said. “No, I really wouldn’t.” She leapt to her feet. “But, if you’d like an even contest, you want to spar or something later?”

“'Spar'?” Pyrrha repeated. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. “That wouldn’t be much of a fight, would it?”

“Ahaha,” Rainbow said. “Humour me. Please. I’m curious. Plus … it might help to take your mind off … all this.”

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. “All right,” she said. “I shall look forward to it.”

“Awesome!” said Rainbow. “And so will I.”

Beacon's arena was kind of open-house at the moment, free for anyone to use who wanted to get some practice in before the Vytal Festival, or the selections for Beacon and Haven — although, as a note on the door said, Professor Goodwitch would prefer it if you tried not to wreck the place too much — and so Rainbow was able to go right in, grab her gear out of the lockers, and head on through from the locker room into the arena itself.

It was well-lit inside; the lights didn't go dark unless you signalled for them to go dark — and there wouldn't be much point in that when there were no spectators around to distract them anyway; they might as well leave the lights on — and no one around, not even Pyrrha.

Rainbow was obviously early.

She'd already checked her weapons, but she checked them again since she had time to kill. It only took a couple of seconds though, so she was left waiting, pacing around the arena, looking out across the seats, thinking through the fight ahead.

The doors opened, and Rainbow turned, her trainers squeaking a little on the floor as she saw Sun come in, pushing both the doors open, briefly letting in the light from behind him, before walking through the centre of the room, past the bleachers that were set up beneath the arena for the other students to watch.

He had his staff in his hand.

"Hey," he said, looking around. "You waiting for somebody?"

"Hey, Sun," Rainbow replied. "Yeah, I'm waiting for Pyrrha. We're going to have a sparring match."

Sun snorted. "Good luck with that."

Rainbow rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Sun went on, "since you've got a minute, can we talk?"

"Sure," Rainbow said. "What about?"

Sun leapt up onto the stage, planting one end of his staff upon the black arena surface. He didn't quite look at Rainbow Dash. "So … how was Atlas?"

"The be—" Rainbow stopped short of saying 'the best place in the world, as always,' because while Atlas was and had been good to her, calling it the best place in the world didn't seem appropriate right at the moment. "I had a good time. I loved it. I love it."

"Really?" Sun asked. "Still? Even after—"

"After everything," Rainbow replied.

"Why?"

"Because … because I love her," Rainbow replied. "Because she's in my soul, and so are the people who live there. Because she's beautiful. Because … because I love her, for a hundred reasons and no reason at all."

Now, Sun looked at Rainbow Dash. "You really mean all of that?"

Rainbow folded her arms. "What's this about, Sun?"

Sun hesitated for a moment. "I heard about what happened to the two of you in Atlas," he said. "It seems like the two of you, you and Blake, did good up there."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "We tried to do the right thing."

Sun took a second before he said, "While you were there, while you and Blake were there, did she … say anything about me?"

Is that what this is about? Rainbow thought, before the initial incredulity gave way to an acceptance that, yeah, okay, it wasn't that unfair of a question to ask, even though he might not like the answer. Now it was her turn to hesitate before she admitted, "No."

Sun's face twitched. He didn't scowl, but he didn't look very happy either. Rainbow had to admit that he had some reason to not be happy about it. "She didn't call either," he muttered.

"She had to watch Sunset shoot her last boyfriend in the chest not too long ago," Rainbow said. "That sort of thing stays with you. Give her a break; she's been through a lot."

"Then why won't she let me be there for her?" Sun asked.

"I don't know; I'm her friend, not her diary," Rainbow replied. "Listen, Sun, I get that you're not happy about this, and I won't even say that your wrong to be, but … if you want someone to listen to you complain about Blake, I don't want to hear it, and if you want to do something, then why don't you talk to Blake herself?"

"Would she want to talk to me?" asked Sun.

"If she doesn't, then she'll let you know," Rainbow said.

Again, Sun paused. "Is Blake still planning to go to Atlas?"

Rainbow nodded. "She put in her paperwork with General Ironwood yesterday."

"Why?" Sun demanded. "Why, after everything that she did when she was there, after everything that's come out, why … why either of you, but especially why Blake?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to wear that uniform?" Sun cried. "Why do you want to be a part of this kingdom that hates you, that thinks you're less? Why does Blake want to put herself through that?" He turned away, sitting down on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling down towards the floor below. "I don't get it. Not one bit."

Rainbow Dash walked to the edge of the stage and sat down next to Sun. "What's it like," she asked, "in Vacuo?"

"Vacuo?"

"That's where you're from, isn't it?" asked Rainbow. "They say it's a place the faunus aren't discriminated against."

"They're right about that," Sun said. "In Vacuo, the desert is our enemy. It's hot. Hotter than anything else I've ever felt, hotter than anywhere else I've ever been. And the sand gets everywhere, I hate it."

"Coarse and rough and irritating," Rainbow muttered.

"Exactly," Sun agreed. "It's a real pain in the butt. When I got to Mistral, everything was so soft and smooth, I could hardly believe it." He paused. "It's a hard life. Harder than here, harder than Mistral, definitely harder than Atlas. That's what makes us so tough."

Rainbow snorted. Sun ignored her.

"And yeah," Sun went on. "We don't discriminate. We can't. There's nobody around who would, no Council, no big business. There's just people, treating one another like people—"

"So long as they're strong," Rainbow said, "because if they fall behind, they get left behind, right? Isn't that the way in Vacuo? The strong don't defend the weak, they leave them to fend for themselves?"

"You make it sound worse than it is," Sun replied.

"Then make it sound better."

"There is no one weak in Vacuo," Sun declared. "In Vacuo, the weak die, and the strong survive, but it's not because they're left to die; it's because … it's because they can't be saved. The land's too hard, and you have to be strong to live in it. That's just the way it is. I think that might be why there's no prejudice against the faunus, because everyone's too busy just trying to survive."

"Even in the cities?"

"What cities?" Sun asked. "I guess you could call the area around Shade Academy a city, the Weeping Wall, the bazaar, but … in Vacuo, we don't really do settling down. Wherever you settle, around an oasis or a relay tower, it might get attacked by the grimm, and so we're always prepared to move on. There's no point dying in a fight over a patch of sand. No point standing your ground when you can just get out."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life," Rainbow muttered. "How do you put down roots when you might have to pull them up at any minute?"

Sun shrugged. "That's why we don't, I guess."

"Fair," Rainbow said quietly. "How old were you when you left Vacuo?"

"Sixteen," said Sun.

"And that's when you found that you got treated differently, for being a faunus?" Rainbow asked, putting one hand on his shoulder.

"I guess," Sun murmured. "Honestly, I didn't really notice it until … well, have you heard about all this stuff in Vale?"

"I've heard about it," Rainbow replied.

"And then this stuff in Atlas, with the SDC," Sun went on. "I … I used to think that the White Fang were just a bunch of freaks. I knew about them; even in Vacuo, we heard about them, but they weren't around because, well, because everyone was too busy trying to survive to worry about politics and because there isn't really any discrimination for them to get upset about. So I thought that they were just looking for something to be angry about, looking for an excuse to cause trouble. But now, with what the SDC did to all those faunus, I don't know … I can't say that the White Fang doesn't have a point."

"Of course they have a point," Rainbow said. "The White Fang has always had a point."

Sun looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Sun, I grew up in a shivering cold house in a crater looking up at the city in the sky," Rainbow told him. "I've been stopped, searched, picked up by the cops for being a faunus in the wrong neighbourhood. I've had people try to warn me away from Twilight because a faunus like me shouldn't be anywhere near a nice human girl from a good family. I'm not an idiot, I know that the world isn't perfect, I know that Atlas isn't perfect, I know what's wrong with it."

"But you love her all the same?" Sun asked.

Rainbow didn't respond to that; instead, she said, "My best friend growing up is in the White Fang, and while I could pretend that she's become a monster, that she's not the girl I used to know, that she's strayed so far off the path that I could shoot her like a dog and it wouldn't bother me at all, the truth is that her heart's in the right place, the same as it's always been. Twisted by anger, maybe, but that's because … well … the White Fang have a point, the point being that the faunus get the short end of the stick sometimes, and that's not fair. The problem is … well, there are two problems, the first of which is that they act like all humans are the problem when the truth is that if we want to solve things, then we’re going to need people who can look past our ears and tails and treat us like equals; and the second problem is that they've decided to go out and kill people and blow stuff up, and how's that going to help anybody? Blake and I were the ones who exposed what Calliope Ferny was doing, not the White Fang. Mantle isn't on strike and about to get a massive payday from the Schnee Dust Company because of anything the White Fang did but because of what we did, me and Blake. We've done more for the faunus over the last couple of weeks than the White Fang have in years. All the White Fang have done recently is try to destroy Vale, like that would have done anything for the faunus in Mistral or Atlas. We've done this, not them. Working with the system has done this, not their bullets or their bombs. Being on the inside, pulling levers, not on the outside screaming and shouting. And that's why Blake is going to put our uniform on, and that's one of the reasons why I wear it too. That and, yes, because I love her, flaws and all."

"But why do you and Blake have to be the ones doing all the work?" Sun asked. "Why can't the humans sort out their own problems?"

"Because … because once you step back you lose the right to do anything but shut up," Rainbow said. "The critic doesn't count, Robyn Hill standing on the sidelines carping, pointing out how stronger people stumble, how the person who actually did things could have done them better. It's hard work, yes, and our faces are marred by dust and sweat because that's the cost of getting things done, of actually trying. And in the end, we get the reward of triumph, or at least of knowing that we tried, and that's more than those who criticise us will know. It's more than we'd know if we just wrang our hands about how bad things are. It's not enough to say 'somebody should do something' unless you're willing to add 'and that somebody is me.' You have to get in the arena, or why should anybody care what you think or have to say?"

"I guess," Sun murmured. "It just seems like a lot of work for a small reward, you know?"

"Maybe it is," Rainbow replied, "but what would I do otherwise? What would Blake do?" She paused. "Listen, Sun, you really want my advice, about Blake?"

Sun hesitated a second. "Sure, yeah."

"I don't know how much help it will be, because I'm no expert, but…" Rainbow paused. "Some people would say that you're not good enough for Blake, that you'll be a liability to her in Atlas. I don't think that has to be true, but I do think that … Blake knows what she wants. You might not understand it, you might not agree with it, but she knows. She knows what she wants, where she wants to go, and if you love her, then you'll have to find a way to go along with that somehow. Or not, I mean … sometimes, stuff just … ends. Look at Twilight; things end around her all the time. Like with your pal Neptune."

"Yeah, stuff ends with Neptune a lot too," Sun agreed, "but I don't want this to end, I … I love her flaws and all." He grinned. "She's in my soul, I guess."

Rainbow snorted. "Then you'll have to find a way to live with Blake's choices, because, no offence, Blake isn't going to turn away for your sake. So I guess the real question is whether you can find a way to do that. Who are you, Sun, what do you want; where are you going, or where do you want to go? Answer that, and then you'll know whether you can make it work with Blake."

The Pride of Mistral, Part One (New)

The Pride of Mistral, Part One

"Are you all right, Pyrrha?" Penny asked.

Pyrrha put a smile on her face as she opened the locker door and removed Miló, holding the weapon about halfway down its spear-mode shaft. "Of course I am, Penny."

Penny looked at her intently. "I'm not sure I believe you," she said quietly.

The smile faltered somewhat on Pyrrha's face; having been somewhat disingenuously placed made it a little difficult to maintain. "Why would you think that, Penny?" she asked. "Everything is over and done with now; Sunset … came through for me, as it were. What do I have to be … at all not all right about?"

Penny didn't reply, at least not right away, and when she spoke again — after glancing down at the floor of the changing room — she said, "I'm sorry."

Now, Pyrrha was confused. She could understand why Penny would ask if she was all right, she could even understand Penny not believing her answer, but this? "Sorry for what? As far as I'm concerned, you have nothing at all to be sorry about."

"But that machine was built for me!" Penny cried. "The machine that they wanted to … it wouldn't exist if it wasn't for me, and you wouldn't have almost—"

"Penny," Pyrrha said, in a tone that was gentle but firm in equal measure, "did you know what was waiting for me down in the vault beneath the school?"

"I didn't even know there was a vault beneath the school."

"Then you have nothing whatsoever to apologise for," Pyrrha informed her. "If that machine did not exist at all, then you would not exist, and that would be a terrible tragedy." She slipped her free arm around Penny, drawing her into an embrace, resting her hand on the back of Penny's head.

Penny wrapped both her arms around Pyrrha's waist. "I'm glad you're not becoming someone else," she said. "I like you just the way you are.”

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I'm glad too," she murmured. "Very, very glad indeed."

"Really?" Penny asked. "Then why do you seem … not okay?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Sunset says that I am fashioned for melancholy," she admitted. "Perhaps she's right, and this is just the latest proof of it."

"Then you are sad!" Penny proclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"Indeed?" Pyrrha asked in a somewhat arch tone as she looked down at Penny. She paused a moment. "I did not say that I was sad—"

"Yes," Penny cut her off. "You did."

"Then I misspoke somewhat," Pyrrha insisted, letting her hand fall from Penny and, gently prying herself out of Penny's embrace, taking a step back so that she could see the other girl better. "I am not sad; certainly, I am not sad to be alive, do not mistake me, I am… I am very glad that I don't have to climb into that machine, and gladder still that no one else must do so in my place. My gratitude to Sunset is … limitless."

"But?"

Pyrrha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, it's nothing, nothing that I should trouble your ears with."

"It's no trouble," Penny said. "I mean, isn't this what friends do? Listen to one another's problems?"

"Sometimes," Pyrrha allowed, "but…" She trailed off. It might be nice to confess to someone how she was feeling, what had kept her up at night, why she was … a little less than 'all right'. And perhaps … perhaps Penny might understand better than most. "Penny," she said, "why did you decide to transfer to Beacon?"

Penny blinked. "You know why. Because it's where I want to be, with all of you. Because here I can be free."

"Free, yes, but ordinary too, no?" Pyrrha replied.

"I don't understand," Penny said.

"You told us once that you were created for a great purpose," Pyrrha said. "You were created to save the world, isn't that what you said?"

"That's right," said Penny, softly.

"But you decided to cast that aside," Pyrrha said. "For a more … ordinary life. No one will expect greatness of you here, at least … that isn't to say that you will be underestimated by any means, but with your parents, or General Ironwood, there will be no one pushing you towards supreme accomplishment."

"No," Penny acknowledged. "No, that's true. I get what you're saying, that nobody is going to expect anything of me here at Beacon the way some people would at Atlas."

"Precisely," Pyrrha said. "Did that … trouble you at all? Did you ever wonder if you were making the right choice, to give up on accomplishment or glory or achievement of some great thing for the sake of happiness?"

"No."

Pyrrha laughed lightly. "Not at all?"

"It's true that I was created to do great things," Penny declared. "My fathers — certainly, one of my fathers, my father instead of my dad — created me to be the greatest thing that he'd ever made, or that anyone had ever made, something that could fight the battles that other people couldn't, or so they wouldn't have to. And that … that was pretty cool, at first. I wanted to help. I still want to help, to help my friends, protect my friends, protect people, but … after learning about Salem, and how none of us can ever really 'save the world' that way, and then after Mountain Glenn when I got taken out so easily, I started to wonder if maybe I was broken, if maybe there wasn't any point in me being here."

"Penny, that's not true at all."

"I know," Penny said. "Because I realised that, while I still have things to learn if I want to be as good a huntress as you or Sunset or Ruby, it doesn't matter if I can't do or be what my father wanted because the purpose he had in mind for me doesn't matter. I'm me, not my father's screwdriver or his gun; it doesn't matter what I was created for, it only matters what I want, and what I want is to live my own life, yes, helping people, doing the right thing, but … but being happy at the same time."

Pyrrha smiled. "Wise words, Penny, words to live by."

"But you don't want to live by them," Penny said. "Or you're not sure if you should."

Pyrrha sighed. "A Nikos is not expected to be ordinary," she said. "One might say that a Nikos is not … permitted to be ordinary."

"Permitted or expected by who?" Penny asked. "And why should they get a say on what you do or don't do, want or don't want?"

"My mother, perhaps," Pyrrha replied. "By society, by Mistral … but most of all by the ghosts of the past stretching back many centuries and ages." She paused for a moment. "The story goes that my most famous ancestor and namesake was given a choice: to go to war and win undying glory at the cost of her own life; or to live a long, unmemorable existence, one in which she might, perhaps, be happy." She smiled. "A choice much like yours, it seems to me."

"I suppose," Penny allowed. "Is that in The Mistraliad? I tried to read it, but I don't remember that part. Didn't it start when they were already at war?"

"Yes, it does, in the seventh year of the war," Pyrrha replied, "and that story that I mentioned is not part of that tale, but took place sometime earlier."

"What kind of story doesn't start at the beginning?" asked Penny.

"To start at the beginning of so long a tale would make it long indeed," Pyrrha pointed out. "How did you find it?"

Penny glanced away. "Hard," she admitted. "And the other Pyrrha wasn't very nice. She wasn't like you at all."

"No, we share a name but little else," Pyrrha said, "but the comparison is not wholly in my favour. My namesake was more skilled than I am, most like, and certainly more resolute. Hard times made her hard as steel; I am … soft and sensitive by comparison."

"I don't think that's a bad thing," Penny declared. "There's nothing wrong with being sensitive — if other people are unkind to you, then that's their problem, not yours — and there's nothing wrong with being soft, or gentle, or nice either. I think it's better to be soft than to be the kind of person who'd let a whole army lose a battle to teach them a lesson about how great you are." Penny paused. "I think she made the wrong choice."

"You do?"

Penny nodded. "I thought it would be cool to be famous, to have everyone know who I was, to think that I was awesome, to gasp and cheer for the things that I could do."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Pyrrha murmured.

Penny smiled. "Exactly. It didn't make you happy, did it?"

Penny had scored a touch with that one, there was no denying it. And yet, Pyrrha said, "Do you not think that there may be a difference between hollow accomplishment, such as one attains through meaningless contests, and achievements of great meaning and import, deeds of true greatness?"

"I don't see why you should have to give up on your life to do something, even something important," Penny said. "Her name is Amber, isn't it? The Fall Maiden, the one who Cinder attacked, the one that they…"

"Yes," Pyrrha whispered. "Yes, her name is Amber."

"Do you think she had a choice?" Penny asked. "Do you think that they asked her if she wanted to become the Fall Maiden?"

"That depends on how she came by the powers, I suppose," Pyrrha replied. "Rainbow Dash and I talked this morning to another Atlas student named Starlight Glimmer—"

"She's the Winter Maiden, isn't she?" Penny said. "At least, Twilight thought so."

"Twilight was mistaken, in part," Pyrrha said. "Starlight was considered to become the Winter Maiden, as I was considered to be the Fall, but as in my case, circumstances — different circumstances, but nevertheless — conspired to make the choice unnecessary. It may have been the same with Amber; it … probably was. Through the diary of Summer Rose, we learned the names of two past Fall Maidens, Auburn and Merida; it is very likely that Amber was chosen to take Merida's place, although it may be that Merida died without having a clear successor in her mind and Amber acquired the magic by a sort of accident. But Professor Ozpin and his allies appear to have too great a … a control on the Maidens for that to happen." Although not so great that they could protect Amber from Cinder.

Penny clasped her hands together. "If she did choose, I wonder what she was giving up, whether she wouldn't rather have had a different kind of life."

"If she chose, then … well, then she chose," Pyrrha said.

"Maybe because she thought she had to," Penny said, "for the good of the world."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed, "but nevertheless, that was her choice."

"Maybe," Penny said. "If she did choose. What kind of life do you think she'll have, once Sunset saves her?"

Pyrrha said nothing. There was an answer, but it was not a pleasant one. She will spend her life in hiding or under heavy guard, for she is marked; Salem's forces know who she is and what she is, the shield of secrecy that she might have enjoyed and relied upon has been torn away. Even if Cinder is killed and the full power of the Fall Maiden reunites in her, she can never assume that she will be safe from danger. She will live looking over her shoulder, watching for the hunters.

"I know what it's like to have to hide what you are," Penny said. "It's not fun, even before you get to bad guys who'd want to kill you if they knew what you were. It's dark and cold and lonely, and the only light comes when you can let people in, tell them the truth, tell them what you are, and hope that … that they accept you for who you are, in spite of that. I know why the Maidens have to hide, and I know why the magic was given to them in the first place, but all the same, thinking about how they must have to live, I hate it, and I don't want … I think that we can do incredible things without magic, together, like the four sisters in the story who didn't need magic to help that old man and probably didn't need it afterwards. We can do it together, and we don't need to give up our lives to do it."

"You think that we can have it all?" Pyrrha asked.

"Well, maybe not absolutely everything, but enough," Penny said. "I mean, I don't see why not."

Pyrrha placed a hand on Penny's shoulder. "Your confidence cheers me greatly," she said. "Thank you."

Penny beamed like the sun. "Any time."

Pyrrha nodded. She stepped back and pulled Akoúo̱ out of her locker, slinging it across her back in a fluid motion, even as she slammed the locker door shut. "And now, I think we've probably kept Rainbow Dash waiting long enough, don't you?"

They left the locker room, Penny trailing ever so slightly behind Pyrrha, and emerged out into the amphitheatre. As she entered, Pyrrha heard one of the other doors close, as though someone had just left.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," she said, calling out to Rainbow Dash where she stood up on the stage.

Rainbow turned her head in Pyrrha's direction. "Nah, it's fine," she said. "Hey, Penny." She grinned. "I didn't realise I was going to have a hostile crowd."

"I … could cheer for both of you?" Penny suggested.

Rainbow snorted. "Nobody ever cheers for both sides equally; it's just something they say to avoid having to pick a side. But it's fine; cheer for Pyrrha, she deserves it. You ready for this, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha held out her hands, and Miló and Akoúo̱ both flew from her back and into her grasp. "I should hope so," she said, leaving Penny behind as she strode forwards, her red sash and her long red hair alike flapping slightly back and forth behind her, "seeing as I'm here."

"Just don't hand me an easy win because you're distracted, okay?"

"I assure you," Pyrrha said, as she leapt up onto the stage, "you have my undivided attention."

Rainbow stared into Pyrrha's eyes for a moment and nodded. She half turned away from Pyrrha and got out her scroll, pressing the screen a couple of times to activate the display upon the wall.

Said display connected to both Rainbow's scroll and Pyrrha's without her having to do anything, sensing that their scrolls were in the arena and no others were.

Both their auras were in the green. For now.

Rainbow's hands drifted towards her machine pistols in their holsters at her waist. She was wearing her wings strapped across her back, but Pyrrha would not simply use her semblance to dump her out of the ring.

That would be a low blow, unforgivably so.

She bent her knees and held Akoúo̱ before her in a low guard.

"Are you sitting comfortably, Penny?" she asked, without taking her eyes off Rainbow Dash.

"Yes!" Penny cried enthusiastically.

Rainbow grinned and pulled her red-tinted goggles down over her eyes. "Okay then. Let's go!"

Rainbow rushed forward like a bull, exactly as she had said she would do when they talked this morning, a rainbow streaking behind her as she charged at Pyrrha, aiming to bodily shove her out of the ring and end the match.

But I'm not just going to stand here and wait for you.

Pyrrha took a step forward and threw Miló over her shoulder at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow dodged, the rainbow swirling around her like fairy magic as she spun on her toe with a dancer's grace. Pyrrha rushed towards her, Akoúo̱ gripped in both hands, arms drawn back.

Rainbow leapt up into the air, the wings unfurling out of her backpack with a series of mechanical clanks and rattles, much like Crescent Rose unfolding, the metal feathers — each one was scratched with lines, Pyrrha noticed for the first time, as though it really were a feather — bursting out from behind her as Rainbow took to the air above the ring.

Pyrrha ran for Miló, shielding herself with Akoúo̱, holding it before her head and face as she recovered her weapon. Miló transformed from spear to rifle in her hands, but Rainbow had already drawn her machine pistols from the holsters at her hips and let fly, bullets erupting from the muzzles of both guns.

Those same bullets struck Akoúo̱, ricocheting off the shield before Pyrrha used a light touch of Polarity to throw Rainbow's aim off and send the rounds thudding into the floor on either side of her.

Rainbow growled in irritation, holstering her pistol in her left hand before gripping her right-hand gun in both hands, aura flowing to her hands as she fought with Pyrrha's semblance to train her weapon upon Pyrrha once more.

Miló roared as Pyrrha fired once, twice. Rainbow dodged, turning nimbly in the air, jinking left and right. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ towards her wings as she transformed Miló back from rifle into spear.

Rainbow evaded the flung shield, turning sideways to let Akoúo̱ sail past her, but as she did so, Pyrrha jumped up, planting the butt of Miló upon the floor of the arena and firing the charge of dust contained within it. Miló extended out another foot, and more importantly, Pyrrha was blasted up into the air, shooting up as though she was a spear herself towards Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow tried to get out of her way, but she was badly positioned for it having just dodged Pyrrha's shield, and Pyrrha was moving too fast.

Pyrrha struck her across the side of the head with the shaft of Miló, sending Rainbow's head snapping to the left, before the two collided, Pyrrha's momentum bearing Rainbow backwards even as her jetpack flared, fire leaping from it as it pushed back against Pyrrha.

Rainbow glared at Pyrrha, teeth gritted as she threw her face forward to headbutt Pyrrha, her brow colliding with Pyrrha's circlet — although that did not entirely stop any damage to her aura — one hand clenching into a fist.

Conscious of Rainbow's preference for aura-intensive, powerful blows, Pyrrha let go of her opponent using a sharp jab of Miló to her chest to push off of Rainbow before she twisted in mid-air, her whole body turning until she was feet first to the Atlas girl.

Rainbow rose higher before Pyrrha could kick off her, and Pyrrha was left to fall, rolling once more, turning in the air until she landed gracefully upon her feet. Akoúo̱ flew back — Rainbow managed to avoid it again — onto her left arm.

Both their auras were still in the green, but Rainbow's was somewhat less green than Pyrrha's.

Rainbow hovered in the air, looking down at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha stood upon the ground, looking up at Rainbow Dash.

Will you wait for me to come up there again?

On the contrary, Rainbow Dash came down to her, descending like a thunderbolt, head first, hands knotted into fists. Pyrrha didn't know exactly what she was planning, but she did not want to simply stand still and wait to receive it. She started to run.

Rainbow threw a punch, far too early, with no hope of hitting anything.

Hitting anything was not her intent.

Rainbow's aura boom echoed throughout the arena as she unleashed her attack upon the air itself. The stage floor cracked beneath her, shards and fragments flying into the air as a crater formed beneath her, but more importantly, a great gust of air, a shockwave, erupted all around her, exploding outwards, catching Pyrrha and flinging her sideways, tossing her like a toy to land upon the floor of the stage and roll along it as her sash wrapped around her like ribbon round a gift.

Pyrrha slammed Akoúo̱ down into the stage, burying the edge of her shield in the floor and holding onto it to arrest her movement.

She was still lying on the ground as she saw a rainbow blur out of the corner of one eye.

Rainbow closed the distance before Pyrrha could rise to her feet, delivering a sharp kick into Pyrrha's side. She threw a punch straight down towards Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha raised her shield, turning the blow away as Rainbow's fist and arm passed over the surface of her gilded shield.

Rainbow grabbed the outer lip of Akoúo̱ as though to wrench it off of Pyrrha's arm.

Pyrrha grabbed Rainbow by the belt with her free hand.

She heaved.

Rainbow squawked with alarm as Pyrrha rolled, carrying Rainbow Dash with her, throwing her head over heels and slamming her, head first, into the stage surface which cracked beneath the impact.

Pyrrha leapt to her feet, stamping with one foot on Rainbow's chest — hard — as she raised Akoúo̱ in both hands.

She brought the shield down.

Rainbow caught it in both hands, the muscles on her arms straining. She pushed off the ground with her back, her legs snapping upwards — she really was very flexible; clearly, all that yoga paid off for her — to try and wrap around Pyrrha's midriff.

Pyrrha leapt away, then rolled away — recovering Miló as she did so — before rolling upright once again.

Rainbow leapt to her feet.

Neither of them took their eyes off one another, not even to check their aura levels.

Pyrrha switched Miló into sword mode in her hand.

Rainbow darted to the left, a rainbow trailing after her, before turning to come at Pyrrha from her side. Pyrrha turned, but too slow for Rainbow's semblance, and she was punched on the side of the jaw hard enough to snap her head around, her ponytail flying around her. Rainbow dashed around the side of the arena and turned again to come at her again, but Pyrrha jumped up into the air as Rainbow, unable to stop in time, passed harmlessly underneath her.

Rainbow turned and charged again, almost like a bull — no, a bull would not have made the indirect approach trying to come around Pyrrha's flank or rear — but still, she turned and charged again, sweeping around the edge of the stage to come at Pyrrha any direction but from the front. Again, Pyrrha leapt up, her sash fluttering down behind her.

Rainbow was too smart to grab it; she could guess what would happen if she did. More was the pity.

Pyrrha landed on the ground again and quickly backed to the very edge of the stage, where Rainbow could not get behind her.

Also where she could very easily be pushed out of the ring and thus forfeit the match, but sometimes, that was the way with these things.

Rainbow's aura was in the yellow. Pyrrha's aura was still in the green, but she had put herself in a disadvantageous position.

If I were her, at this point, I would close the distance, but not close enough that I could be gotten to grips with before I unleashed another air burst to toss, well, me out of the ring.

But you aren't the only one who's thought about this fight, Rainbow Dash. I've got something to show you.

Pyrrha concentrated her aura in her legs, and to a lesser extent in her arms, weakening the shield that protected her body, her face, concentrating the greatest part of her aura in her legs and the second greatest part in her arms. It was not something that she was in the habit of doing, but she had enough aura for it on occasion, and she felt that the results would, in this case, at least, be worth it.

Ordinarily, she didn't need the big hit, but in this case, she wanted to wrap things up while she was still ahead.

Rainbow surged forward in a rainbow, stopping short of Pyrrha, well short of her, short enough to be safe from her blows, even as she drew back her fist for the aura boom that would quite literally blow Pyrrha away.

Pyrrha unleashed the aura she had gathered in her legs, hurling herself towards Dash with an unexpected swiftness, a speed that Rainbow Dash could not, did not, expect, closing the distance between them in a flash and slashing with Miló in a furious but precise flurry of blows strengthened beyond normal by the concentration of aura in her arm, one, two, three, four blows, and Pyrrha spun on her toe, sash and ponytail alike whirling before she slammed Akoúo̱ into Rainbow's face.

With her aura concentrated thus, she hit Rainbow hard enough to knock her off her feet and onto her back — and put her aura in the red.

"Yeah!" Penny cried. "Go Pyrrha!"

"Ugh, didn't see that coming," Rainbow groaned. "How long have you had that in your pocket?"

"Actually," Pyrrha said, slinging her weapons across her back and offering Rainbow a hand up, "I got the idea from you."

"Is that irony?" Rainbow asked as she took Pyrrha's hand.

"I'm not sure," Pyrrha confessed as she helped Rainbow to her feet, "but it's certainly a compliment."

"I guess I'll take it, since I can't take the win," Rainbow said. She took a deep breath. "I thought I had you there at the end."

"If we had fought when we first met, you might have," Pyrrha replied, "but you aren't the only one to give thought to a battle between us."

Rainbow laughed. "Well, thanks," she said. "Did it take your mind off things for a couple of minutes?"

"Yes, it did," Pyrrha agreed. "Thank you."

Days passed. Sunset almost vanished, spending her time down in the darkness of the vault beneath the school, preparing for her attempt to rescue Amber. Jaune was with her, also readying himself for his part in the venture, and Twilight Sparkle too.

Pyrrha was appreciative, but — quite apart from the fact that she felt Sunset was already quite aware of how grateful and appreciative she was — she felt that the best way of showing her appreciation was to let Sunset get on with it, however precisely she was going to get on with it, without disturbing her training or her preparations. After all, what she was attempting to do was not easy, or at least, it did not sound easy.

But really, when it came to Sunset's magic, who could really say for sure?

"Did you want to be stopped?” Ruby asked.

Pyrrha looked at the other member of her team who was not engaged in the attempted rescue of Amber. The two of them sat on the little wooden bench before the chicken coop and enclosure, watching the creatures waddle up and down, heads bending down rapidly to pick the food from off the ground then rising up again just as swiftly, jerking back and forth, back and forth as they walked.

They were eating well, which Pyrrha might describe as a good omen, provided they continued to eat well until the day of Sunset's endeavour.

Of course, I suppose that doesn't really apply to all chickens.

They were such simple creatures, really, living their lives with no worry, no doubt. They didn't have fears, they didn't have ambitions that they feared to fail at the realising of. They were not troubled by existential concerns.

And of course, they have their children stolen and devoured, until the day comes they are themselves put to death. They are prisoners dependent upon the goodwill of their gaolers, and that goodwill will one day run out, and they will never know why.

Much better to be a person, all things considered.

Thinking about it, indeed, was almost enough to turn one vegetarian like Sunset.

Pyrrha dismissed the softly clucking chickens from her mind and focussed her attention on Ruby. "I am grateful beyond words that I was stopped."

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Then I must ask you to clarify what you meant,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I meant…” Ruby trailed off for a moment. “Did you want to be stopped from going through with it, not from Sunset finding another way, but if there’d been no other way, if there had been nothing to do but … that … would you have wanted to be stopped from doing it?”

Pyrrha was silent. She did not speak, she did not dare to speak, she was … her heart beat hard within her breast. She kept her mouth closed. She feared as though even to open it for breathing would let words sally forth to betray her.

Did she wish it? Stopped in what way? Did she wish that Sunset had tied her up in magical chains that she could not break and cast her into some dark cell until the moment was passed, did she wish that Jaune had kept her locked in his embrace, did she wish that she had been presented with some united front that would not let her pass?

“Yes,” she whispered. “And yet, not, at the same time. I … I am … my thoughts, my feelings, my soul is … I do not know.”

Ruby looked up at her, eyes … were her eyes narrow? Or was Pyrrha just imagining that? If they were narrow, it was only slightly so, or else, there would have been no doubt, so probably, they were not narrowed at all, and Pyrrha’s imagination, her guilt, was getting the best of her.

“It wouldn’t have driven you crazy then, to have been stopped from doing what you knew to be right?” Ruby asked.

Pyrrha sighed. “I … you have never been grateful in the least, I take it.”

“No,” Ruby said bluntly. “What should I have been grateful for?”

Pyrrha let out the very slightest laugh, but felt compelled in any case to say, “I’m sorry, this is a serious matter, I know, but…” She trailed off momentarily. “Ruby, what is it that you desire? What is it that you want from your life?”

“To be a huntress.”

“And then what?” Pyrrha asked. “To what end?”

“To be a huntress is an end in itself,” Ruby said, “isn’t it?”

Pyrrha shrugged. “That is at least in part a question of personal preference,” she said. “For myself … I quest for destiny, I seek for heroism, I strive to be worthy of my Nikos name and of the long line of my ancestors. I wish to be, as I always believed that I could be, a great huntress. And yet…”

“Jaune,” Ruby said, softly and not without sympathy.

Pyrrha’s lips curled upwards into a smile. “I did not come to Beacon looking to fall in love, and yet, love found me nonetheless. I am pierced through the heart by Eros, whose shafts never miss.” She chuckled. “I have never believed in an inescapable fate, and yet, the way in which Jaune was thrown across my path, unsought for, might almost make me reconsider. And so, while the Pyrrha who strives might be willing to do this thing, loath though she might be to pay the price for her destiny, the other half of myself, the other soul fighting for control of my body even before Amber might be added to the mix, might have been — is — grateful for any means to extricate myself with honour intact.” She paused. “Is there nothing that you would so dearly live for that you would forsake yourself for it?”

“No,” Ruby replied. “No, there’s … nothing. I’m not in love, and even if I was…”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed just a little. “And if you were?”

Now it was Ruby’s turn to shrug. “I’d like to think that I … I kind of think that … you should be all in, or all out. Like Mom and Dad. Dad quit and stayed home to raise a family.”

“I thought he was a teacher.”

“Well, he went into teaching once me and Yang were old enough,” Ruby explained, “and anyway, teaching still isn’t real huntsman work, is it? The point is, he did that, and then Mom stayed in, and she didn’t let the fact that she was in love with my dad slow her down. So I’d like to think that I still wouldn’t let it stop me.”

I would pity the boy or girl in question, if that is truly the case, Pyrrha thought, but did not — would never — say. Although I’m not sure I’m one to talk in this particular instance.

“I would have done it,” Ruby said. “If they’d asked me.”

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s one of the reasons why I would have done it myself.”

An angry wordless snort, like a bull expelling air out of its nostrils while at the same time contriving to growl like a dog with its tail stepped on, emerged from Ruby’s mouth and nose as she glared up at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha smiled, only somewhat apologetically. “I fear that we can never stop.”

Ruby continued to glower, something that she did surprisingly well, all things considered, before she expelled a resigned sigh from out of her. “No, no, of course you can’t. Like I said to Penny, you’re too much a princess.”

“'Princess'?”

“Shepherd of the people,” Ruby said. “And I’m the sheep.”

“Oh, no, not a sheep,” Pyrrha replied. “A sheepdog, perhaps: valiant, but in need of direction.”

Ruby looked at her again. Pyrrha battled valiantly to keep a straight face.

“Woof woof,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha closed her eyes. “I am sorry,” she said. “I fear it is too in me, too far ingrained, as you have said, for me to promise to be other than I am.”

Ruby looked away. “All the same,” she said, “as you are, I’m glad that you’re not going through with this.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m very glad myself.”

"This is gonna work, isn't it," Ruby said, not quite asking the question, at least not in her tone. "What Sunset's doing … she'll save Amber, and then … then we'll face whatever comes next, together."

Pyrrha smiled and nodded. "Yes. Yes, we surely will."

"Hey, you two!" Yang called out as she walked down the dirt path towards them. "I thought I might find you here."

Both Ruby and Pyrrha twisted around in their seats to look at her.

“Hey Yang,” Ruby said. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Yang said, walking over until she was standing behind the two of them, forcing them both to look up at her to a greater or lesser extent, “Professor Goodwitch asked me to run the planning for the parade that opens up the Vytal Festival, since I did such a good job with the dance.”

“Wasn’t the dance you and Sunset?” Ruby pointed out.

“Yeah, but Sunset’s kind of busy right now, isn’t she?” Yang replied. “Anyway, I have been asked to run the room, talk to students from the other schools, that kind of thing, and I thought to myself that I know just the people who’d be glad of the distraction that comes from helping me out.” She grinned. “What do you say?”

“Do we have a choice?” asked Ruby.

“Not in the least!” Yang said with a slightly unnerving eagerness. “Come on! What would you rather do, throw yourself into some work to take your mind off the craziness that I still cannot quite believe, or sit here moping with the chickens?”

“Well—” Ruby began.

“Don’t answer that; just come with me,” Yang said as she grabbed them both by the arms and hauled them bodily up and onto their feet, before beginning to pull them away in the direction of the school.

“Hey!” Ruby cried. “Yang, let go of me!”

“You want me to let go? Then start walking,” said Yang, without much in the way of apparent sympathy.

Pyrrha did start walking, as indeed did Ruby. Speaking for herself, Pyrrha could see Yang’s point; this would be a distraction for turbulent thoughts which gave no benefit and amounted to nothing but merely served to give her cause for worry and consternation as they whirled about her mind. She could do nothing to act on them. Her thoughts, her feelings, her opinions upon these matters were irrelevant at this point. So why dwell on them? Why not throw herself into something which, though it might seem to pale in comparison with matters of Maidens and the like, was nevertheless of great import to many of their fellow students, to say nothing of the city and the people of Vale?

To Ruby, she said, “You told me that you were disappointed that the Vytal Festival wasn’t bringing people together the way that it ought to, the way that you remembered it from when you were a little girl. Perhaps, if we play our parts, we can put that right? Not just with the parade of course, but a good festival in which everything comes together, and the seven-year-olds of today may return home with joyous memories.”

Yang smiled. “You told them about that, huh? That the time Uncle Qrow got us those tickets to the final?”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, that was quite something, wasn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“What I remember,” Yang said, a slightly wicked gleam in her eye, “is that you got over-tired because you stayed up too late that night, and the next day, you were fussy and bad-tempered.”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“Oh, yes, you were, I remember having to deal with it!”

“Well … how was I supposed to go to sleep on the last night of the Vytal Festival?” asked Ruby. “The whole of Vale was celebrating!”

“Who was the champion of the festival that year?” asked Pyrrha. That would have been the thirty-sixth biannual Vytal Festival, two years after Lady Terri-Belle had reached the final bout, raising great hopes that it was about to come home, only to falter in the last match against the Atlesian Robyn Hill. She could not remember any great Mistralian hope who had competed in the thirty-sixth tournament, though of course, some Haven students would have competed for the honour of their school and kingdom. Nevertheless, she could not remember watching any of the matches from that tournament. She thought she had been training with Chiron at the time, in the woods beyond the city.

“Her name was Aurora,” Yang said. “Aurora Jones, she was a Beacon student; she fought with a spear—”

“It was a halberd,” Ruby said. “It was a halberd that transformed into a semi-automatic. Its name was Blinding Light.”

Yang chuckled. “As you can see, Ruby’s been into weapons from an early age. I wonder what she did afterwards?”

“Maybe she’s still out there somewhere,” Ruby suggested. “Roaming the dangerous places of the world, fighting the good fight.”

Nobody wanted to mention the other likely possibility, or at least, Pyrrha presumed that they would not, so she said, “It is a little strange to me that Professor Ozpin would not try to recruit her into his circle; how better to determine if someone is the sort of clearly superlative warrior one would expect to be highly prized than victory in the Vytal Festival tournament?”

“Seems like Ozpin has his own weird way of deciding who gets to know the truth and who doesn’t,” Yang muttered. “Including some hang-ups about certain people.”

Oh dear, that was a poor choice of subject, wasn’t it?

“Um, her opponent,” Pyrrha said, bringing the subject back onto safer ground, “her opponent was Atlesian I take it.”

“He was, yeah,” Yang agreed. “How did you know?”

“An educated guess,” Pyrrha responded. “Atlas and Beacon have monopolised victory in the Vytal Festival, certainly in recent years. It has been a long time since Haven had a champion, a fact which is of no small measure of disquiet in my home city.”

“Are they really hung up about it?” asked Yang. “It’s just a tournament. It’s fun, sure, and a great time if it’s done properly, and it’s cool to watch them fight, but it’s not something to get upset about. It’s not like it’s life or death.” She paused. “Please tell me they don’t kill people in Mistral for losing in the Vytal Festival.”

Pyrrha laughed, although it was a laugh with a trifling edge to it because she could understand why Yang thought the idea was not completely beyond the realms of possibility.

“No,” she said, “we are not quite so… indeed, but Mistral gave Remnant the tradition of heroic combat, the first arenas are all found in Anima many years before anywhere else in the world, everything that the Vytal Festival is and everything that it celebrates—”

“Peace, togetherness,” Ruby said.

“Everything that is celebrated by the combat tournament,” Pyrrha corrected herself, “derives from Mistral, and yet, Beacon and Atlas have taken our arts, our heritage, and, it appears, made them your own. At the very least, you are presently doing them better than we have managed for some little time. It is … a source of shame. There is great desire for someone to bring the triumph home to Mistral.”

“Mmm, someone,” Yang said knowingly. “No pressure then, or do you not count because you went to Beacon instead of Haven?”

“Some might see it so,” Pyrrha allowed, “but I think the majority would take anything they could claim as a victory at this point.”

“So, like I said, no pressure.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “So,” she said, “how much do you have to do to organise this parade?”

“We,” Yang said, “don’t have to do everything. The cops have given us a route to march through, and they’re going to close the roads and line the route and stuff, but what we have to do is decide in what order the schools are going to march, who's going to be there, what we’re going to wear, whether we want entertainment—”

“Entertainment for us while we’re marching?” asked Ruby.

“Entertainment for the crowd, I think,” Pyrrha said. “I recall that when the Vytal Festival was last held in Mistral, the students in the parade were preceded by acrobats, jugglers, and fire-breathers.”

“Maybe, but I’m leaning towards a ‘no’ on that one,” Yang said. “I want people to be watching us, not some literal clowns up in front.”

“And we have to do all of this with just the three of us?” said Ruby, in a voice that turned a question halfway into a groan.

“Nah, each school has some representatives; we’re having a meeting in the ballroom,” Yang said. “That’s why I roped you into this; I need some back-up.”

They soon arrived at the ballroom, where a large rectangular table had been set up underneath the chandelier, and nearby, a map of Vale — or part of it at least — sat propped up on a stand with a red line running through it, presumably marking the route of the parade.

There were several other people already in the ballroom, students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade Academies. For Haven: Arslan; Cicero Ward the Younger, son of Councillor Ward; Medea, the somewhat unsettling student who had offered to poison people if Pyrrha wished it; and Neptune Vasilias.

A tournament celebrity, the son of a Councillor, the daughter of a provincial civic dignitary and priestess, and a scion of a famous Argive family; they have chosen students who have some connection to large scale events, as if the ability to organise them is passed down through bloodlines.

Or as though Arslan has absorbed administrative skill through having attended a lot of Fight Fan Expos.

Mind you, you could say the same about my presence. What do I know about organising parades?

There were only three Atlas students, but the only one that Pyrrha recognised was Ciel, who gave Pyrrha and Ruby a nod as they walked in. Of the three Shade students, she vaguely recognised one of them, but could not put a name to her.

There was one Beacon student already waiting in the ballroom: Velvet Scarlatina, the rabbit faunus who had been the victim of Cardin’s bullying at the very start of the year.

Sea and sky, that seems so very long ago.

“Hey, Velvet,” Yang said as she led Ruby and Pyrrha inside, “I thought Coco was going to be here.”

Velvet clasped her hands together in front of her and did not meet Yang’s eyes. “She’s, um, Coco’s busy.”

“Busy doing what?” asked Yang.

“Busy sulking that you were asked to run this instead of her,” said one of the Atlas students, a girl with blue highlights in her short green hair and mismatched eyes, one blue and one green.

“Vega!” Velvet exclaimed.

“Vel, I remember what she was like,” the girl, Vega apparently, said. “If these people have spent any time with her, then they know what she’s like, and if they don’t … now they do.”

“People can change,” Velvet murmured.

“Has she?” Vega asked.

Velvet hesitated for a second. “No,” she said, in a very small voice, before rallying to turn to Yang and add, “but I’m here and I’m sure that I’ll be able to help you instead.”

“Sure you will,” Yang replied jovially, patting Velvet on the shoulder as she approached the large rectangular table. “Okay, guys!” she clasped her hands together. “Thanks for coming; now we’re all here, we can get this party started! Does anyone need introductions?”

“I would appreciate it,” Pyrrha murmured.

Medea laughed lightly. “I’m sure we all know who you are, Lady Pyrrha.”

“That may be, but I do not know everyone here,” Pyrrha replied, “and I’m sure I cannot be alone in that.”

“That’s a fair point,” Yang said. “Let’s go around the table, introduce ourselves: I’m Yang Xiao Long, I’m the leader of Beacon Academy’s Team Iron, and Professor Goodwitch has asked me to make sure we get everything sorted out, because apparently, it’s a tradition for the students to make as many of the arrangements as possible. Professor Goodwitch told me it teaches planning and logistics, but I think that, really, the teachers want to outsource their work.”

That got her a couple of laughs, from Ruby, Velvet, some of the Atlas students, Neptune; Arslan snorted, and Medea smirked.

The Shade students did not seem to find it very amusing.

“My name is Pyrrha Nikos—”

“I had no idea,” Medea said dryly.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “—and I am a member of Team Sapphire of Beacon Academy.”

“I’m Ruby Rose,” Ruby added, “and I’m also a member of Beacon’s Team Sapphire.”

“And I am Velvet, Velvet Scarlatina,” Velvet said. “From Team Coffee of Beacon Academy.”

“Arslan Altan, leader of Team Auburn of Haven Academy.”

“Medea Helios, of Team Jasmine of Haven.”

“Cicero Ward, of Team Volcano of Haven.

“Neptune Vasilias, of Haven’s Team Sun.”

“My name is Ciel Soleil, of Team Rosepetal of Atlas Academy.”

“The name’s Flynt Coal, Team Funky.”

“Vega Bleu, Team Verte.”

“I’m Nebula Violette, leader of Team Indigo, here for my sins from Shade Academy.”

“Nolan Porfirio of Shade Academy’s Team Bronze.”

“Umber Gorgoneion,” said a woman who wore her hair in tangled dreadlocks falling down her head to her shoulders and covered her eyes with a pair of impenetrable black sunglasses. “Of Shade Academy, Leader of Team Ermine.”

“Great,” Yang said, “good to meet you all; I hope we can work well together and get this done without any fuss or trouble.”

“We could always decide not to have a parade and then all go our separate ways,” Nebula suggested.

Pyrrha thought that she recognised her from combat class; she had fought … was it Sunset or was it Ruby? She found she couldn’t quite recall, so much had happened since then. In any event, her hair was an appropriate violet colour, cut short to just about reach the nape of the neck and combed over on top so that the bulk of its volume fell on the left side; she wore a light purple coat over a light grey tunic and dark grey pants, and she had a modest cuirass, about the size of a sports bra, strapped over her tunic protecting her breasts.

Yang laughed. “Very funny—”

“Who said I was joking?” Nebula asked.

Yang looked at her. “I … don’t think that’s really an option.”

“Why not?” Nebula demanded. “When Shade hosts the Vytal Festival, we don’t bother with a parade, or dances or a fairground or any of the other flim-flam flummery that you fops insist on throwing in to clutter up what ought to be a perfectly good contest of strength and skill.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Medea muttered.

Nebula scowled. “Do you have a problem?”

“Calm down, Nebula,” Umber said, placing a hand upon her shoulder. “And don’t be so quick to dismiss the traditions of these outsiders. We of Vacuo must reaccustom ourselves to the pomp and circumstance that the other kingdoms use to add tone and gravitas to monumental events; we must hone the skills for the moment when we restore Vacuo to its former greatness and have no more need to hide our envy behind scorn and feigned disregard.” She paused, a smirk crossing her lips. “Besides, you are also wrong in calling it a perfect contest. If the tournament were a perfect contest, then we would battle until auras broke … or even beyond.”

“You can’t be serious,” Pyrrha murmured.

Umber’s slender eyebrows rose into view from behind her sunglasses. “Do you think that when you face a foe in real battle and they have you at their mercy, they will stop when your aura is in the red and let you go?”

“The tournament is not a real battle,” Ciel said. “That is the point.”

“And that is its great failing,” Umber replied casually.

“I think we’re kind of getting off-topic here, guys,” Yang said. “Let’s start with … well, we’ve got the route mapped out for us, so why don’t we start with the order of march, huh? Which schools are going in what order? Now, Beacon is hosting, so I think we should go first—”

“Of course you do,” said Vega Bleu, “but Atlas won the last tournament, and as the defending champions—”

“There’s no such thing as a defending champion in the Vytal Festival,” Velvet murmured.

“—Atlas should have the honour of leading the parade,” Vega went on.

Velvet smiled. “You went pretty native up there, didn’t you?”

“You two know each other?” Ruby asked.

“The two of us and Coco all went to Pharos Combat School together,” Velvet explained, “where I seem to remember that you thought that Atlas, while it had the best facilities and could help you make the most of your potential, was, and I quote, ‘a little bit up—’”

“Let’s not go into that now,” Vega said, waving one hand rapidly before Velvet could reveal what precisely she had thought Atlas was a little bit up. “It’s all … I have had time to come and appreciate the virtues of discipline and unity.”

“It’s a hazard of letting them anywhere near Atlas,” Yang muttered. “Now, I think the fact that you won two years ago is reward enough and that since it’s our festival, we should get to lead the parade, but in the spirit of Vytal Festival friendship and cooperation, I am prepared to give everyone an equal chance to take the lead by rolling dice for it: whoever gets the highest roll goes first and so on.”

“That seems a very random way of making a decision,” Ciel said.

Yang shrugged. “Well, unless you want to fight over it—”

“Now there’s an idea,” Umber said cheerily.

Yang glanced upwards towards the heavens. “No, I don’t think we should … you know what?” She knelt down, planting her elbow on the table with her hand sticking. “We’re going to settle this with an arm-wrestling contest; each school puts someone up, each rep has three matches, and at the end of the contest, the schools march in the order that they came in. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Arslan said, flexing one arm.

“Oh, agreed,” Umber declared. “Go on, Nolan.”

“This is absurd,” Ciel muttered, “but very well.”

Yang did predictably well, seeing off Shade’s Nolan Porfirio with ease. Ciel was rather more of a dark horse; when she lined up against the Shade student, she seemed outmatched, her arms slender and rather lacking in muscle. However, although at first she seemed to be giving ground before him, a look of concentration swiftly settled on her face, and ere long, she was the one forcing him back, gradually driving his hand lower and lower until she slammed it into the surface of the table.

“Whoa,” Ruby murmured.

Ciel glanced at her. “I could not carry Distant Thunder with cocktail sticks for arms,” she said.

However, be that as it may, she was no match for Yang, as much as she struggled — and she put up quite a fight; there were moments even as her hand was forced down when she would suddenly jerk upwards, pushing Yang back, and it seemed that the pendulum might be about to swing the other way — she was eventually forced to the tabletop in defeat. The same unfortunate fate befell her at the hands of Arslan, who went on to face Yang in a match that might have been mistaken for being no match at all, the two of them kneeling opposite one another, hands clasped but arms unmoving.

It was only the intense expressions upon both their faces, the way that they grunted and huffed, the way their arms trembled, that revealed that they were actually in the midst of a desperate struggle, a struggle that went on for some seven minutes with no winner in sight — they had scarcely moved in either direction — before Arslan slammed her free hand palm down onto the table. “You know what? You want to lead the parade so badly, fine. It’s your city; you're welcome to it. I forfeit.”

And so, Yang won, and Beacon would be leading the parade, with Haven following, then Atlas, then Shade bringing up the rear.

The discussion then moved on to dress.

“All students should wear school uniforms,” Ciel said. “It will give the parade a disciplined and regimented appearance.”

“We don’t have uniforms,” Nebula pointed out.

“Although perhaps we ought to,” Umber murmured.

Nebula glanced at her. “You have not shaken Mistral off sufficiently.”

“I knew it,” Medea declared. “You are from the Kisthenian Gorgoneions; I know your sisters.”

“I am a Vacuan,” Umber said coldly. “I am reborn a child of the sun and sand; sea and sky have no more claim on me, and nor does Mistral. I belong to Vacuo now, I work for its glory, and for the glory of Vacuo alone. Something that my schoolmates should keep in mind also before they sling wild accusations.”

“Okay,” Yang said. “So, the fact that Shade doesn’t have a uniform — whether they ought to or not — is a very good point; I don’t see how we can have three schools parading in matching uniforms and then the Shade students in, like, slacks and t-shirts or whatever. If we all wear our combat outfits, then it will look consistent, and it’ll be what we’re wearing in the tournament, so everyone watching on TV will be able to recognise us once the matches start. Is that okay with everyone?”

It was, and from there, they moved yet further on. They would not have any jugglers or the like, nor would they have a combat school marching band because this was not Solitas, and neither Signal nor Pharos possessed a marching band. Would the parade be open to all students, or just the thirty-two teams who would be taking part in the combat tournament?

“I think it should be open to all,” Ruby said, “because there are teams who can’t compete, like Bluebell, who should still be allowed to march in the parade if they want to.”

“Can’t compete?” asked Vega.

“They lost someone,” Pyrrha murmured, “at the Breach.”

“But they should be allowed to march anyway,” Ruby declared, “with an empty space where Sky should be, so people can see it and remember that, although the tournament is fun and all, it’s not what being a huntsman is really all about.”

Nobody demurred from that viewpoint, how could they? How could they deny that this was, when all was said and done, a pleasant distraction, nothing more, or that it was a good idea to honour in some small part those who had upheld the traditions of a true huntsman?

Of course, that meant that a substantial amount of time was spent canvassing the students, gathering the names of which teams would like to be in the parade, and then the committee reconvening and working out the marching order of all those teams, a considerable number.

And so a few days passed in preparations, as effective a distraction as Yang could have wished.

Until the day came when the Mistralian ships arrived.

The Pride of Mistral, Part Two (Rewritten)

The Pride of Mistral, Part Two

“In the spirit of consultation and cooperation,” Tempest said, sounding as though the words were being yanked out of her throat with a pair of forceps in much the same way that Cinder sometimes wished to pull out her tongue, “I think that we should begin recalling the grimm away from the various outlying settlements around which they are dispersed and concentrate them for the assault on Vale.”

Cinder and Tempest stood on opposite sides of the table in the Portchester Manor dining room, a long room with room for many more than just the two of them, had they wished for there to be anyone present, which they did not. The table that divided them was near as long as the room itself, with space enough to seat one hundred guests — or more, perhaps — at one of the great banquets thrown by the lords of this great house in days long gone. Dust covered most of the table, the chandeliers above were lightless, listing, and neither of them wished to stand directly underneath one in case it fell. Table and chairs alike were riddled with woodworm, some of them might crumble if you nudged one with your foot.

Nevertheless, here they stood, with the table and much else dividing them, and a map of Vale, a detailed map of the city, excluding the surrounding regions, sitting on said table between them. Marks in red pen indicated areas where the grimm cultists would strike when the moment came: infrastructure and areas of large public gatherings.

That had been Cinder’s plan, after she had been exposed and chased out of Beacon, after she had had to assume that her virus, with which she had planned to infect General Ironwood’s androids and turn them against his soldiers, had been discovered and neutralised. Her revised plan had called for the deluded worshippers of the grimm to stage attacks — or at least what might seem to be attacks — on various points across the city at the height of the Vytal Festival. If they could cause blackouts, losses of communication, and the like, then, with emotions already running high thanks to the tournament, then people would panic; with the feelings stirred up in them by Sonata Dusk and her siren song, they would blame the faunus, they would blame Atlas, chaos and confusion would reign over the city.

And all that panic, that chaos, that confusion, all those negative emotions swirling around would bring the grimm down upon Vale for the second time.

And all the huntsmen, all the students, Sunset and Pyrrha and Blake Belladonna and all those gallant hearts of Beacon and Atlas and Haven would rush to the defences so there would be no one, no one at all, to stop her from waltzing into Beacon and taking the Relic.

Assuming, of course, that she could find it.

And when I do find it, Salem will order Tempest Shadow to terminate me.

She did not know that for certain, although until fairly recently, she had been certain of it. After the duel, after Salem’s reaction to the duel, after it had been made clear to her that she was only surviving her mistress’ displeasure because she was the Fall Maiden, or part of it, she had thought, she had believed, she had been unable to come to any other conclusion that as soon as Salem was relieved of the necessity of having a Fall Maiden to retrieve the Relic of Choice, so, too, she would relieve herself of Cinder. After all, she could have Tempest become the Spring Maiden, if she could find her, or Lightning Dust if she were feeling stupid. Cinder was not indispensable to her, except in as far as she held half the power of the Fall Maiden, and only the Fall Maiden could retrieve Beacon’s Relic.

At least, she could if she knew where it was.

As things stood now, however, Cinder was not so certain that her fate would be sealed along with Beacon itself. She had clawed back some ground with her actions in the Merlot incident — strange though that might be to say, considering it had involved another act of disobedience. But it was disobedience that had been successful, and moreover, Cinder had convinced Salem that it was Tempest whose judgement had been at fault, driven by malice rather than forethought, guilty of putting her own agenda ahead of the will of Salem.

The sun shone not so bright on Tempest now, while Cinder stood a little less in shadow.

In any event, whether Cinder was marked for death or not, such had been her plan; if Tempest had sought to kill her, then Cinder would not have gone meekly to the grave, not at the hands of Tempest Shadow. She had meant to kill Watts’ protégé, leave the Relic with Sonata with which to purchase her freedom, and seek out Pyrrha for one final combat.

A third time that would pay for all, in which either Pyrrha would win a second time and there would be no intervention on Cinder’s behalf, or Cinder would triumph at the last — and not long outlive her triumph, as Sunset took her revenge.

Such, indeed, had been her plan. Had been her plan. Now…

“Let the grimm remain where they are,” she said.

Tempest glanced up from the map to look at Cinder. “I know there is a risk to concentrating our forces too early; the Valish huntsmen may return to Vale, but it was never our intent to destroy Vale with the grimm, only—”

“Only to draw the defenders away from Beacon,” Cinder interrupted her. “Yes, I know the plan; I devised it, if you will recall. But you misunderstand me. I no longer believe there is a need for a grimm attack.”

Tempest stared at her, face impassive. “Would you mind repeating yourself? I may have misheard you.”

Cinder smiled with one corner of her mouth, a mocking smile full of contempt. “I don’t see the need for a grimm attack,” she repeated, more slowly this time, as if she were speaking to a child, and a stupid one at that.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Cinder said, “yes, it is.”

Tempest leaned upon the map and table, pressing both firsts down upon Vale’s agricultural district. “I see,” she said, with great softness in her voice. “And … why not?”

“Because it is unnecessary,” Cinder said. “The efforts of the cultists, combined with the work of Sonata, will be sufficient to sow confusion—”

“Confusion, yes,” Tempest said, cutting Cinder off, “but that confusion alone will not be sufficient to draw the huntsmen out of Beacon. Ozpin will keep the students safe in the school and let the police and—”

“The police, the Valish military, Ironwood’s forces, they will all be part of the problem,” Cinder declared. “Paralysed, uncertain, running around chasing their tails, not knowing what is happening, jumping at shadows, blaming each other. And the mere threat of a grimm attack under those circumstances will compel Ozpin to send out the students as the only people capable of defending Vale.”

“Until he realises that such a grimm attack is not coming,” Tempest replied. “And recalls the students to the school, where the real effort will fall. Ozpin is no fool; he will soon realise that the anticipated assault has not materialised, which is why a real grimm attack is necessary to keep the huntsmen — and everyone else — pinned on the Green Line, or the Red.” She paused. “Unless you want to keep the students safe in the school.”

Cinder snorted. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and your obsession with one half of Team Sapphire,” Tempest said, her lip curling into a sneer. “Sunset Shimmer, Pyrrha Nikos, they make you weak. They cloud your judgement. Need I remind you—?”

“No,” Cinder said. “You need not. I need no reminders from you, no instruction, no wise counsel for my own benefit.”

“Why do you not want to launch an assault with the grimm?” Tempest asked.

“I have told you once already; were you too dull-witted to comprehend?”

“Why does it matter whether it is necessary or not?” demanded Tempest. “Send them in anyway, why not? Why rely on the threat of an attack that isn’t coming when you can launch an attack that is?”

“Because I do not wish to throw away the lives of the grimm like so much cannon fodder, to use them as though their lives have no purpose but to end for my purposes—”

“For Salem’s purposes,” Tempest corrected her. “We are all servants of a greater mistress here.”

“I know it well enough,” Cinder muttered.

“Then to what end do the grimm exist but to die for Salem, at her will and by her command? What are they, that you should be squeamish at the thought of their destruction?”

They are myself, and I am one of them, Cinder thought. I thought myself superior to them, set apart, set above; even after I became partly one of them, I thought … I mistook a place at Salem’s table for an exalted state, for true importance. But we are all servants, no, more than that, we are all slaves to her, and there is no slave, no matter how trusted, no matter how highly placed, no matter how important, who cannot one day be thrown aside to achieve some greater purpose.

Salem herself revealed that to me after the duel. I wonder if she would appreciate the irony that, in schooling me upon my proper place, she has bred in me greater consideration for those beneath me.

Those whom I can now embrace as kin to me and, as my kin, abhor their slaughter in ways that I did not before.

“Do you think that there will never come a day when Salem will tire of you?” Cinder asked. “Do you think that you will continue to be useful to her always, never disappointing, never failing, never doing ought to fall out of her favour?”

“Doctor Watts—”

“Will not always remain in her favour either, perhaps,” Cinder murmured.

Tempest’s eyes narrowed. “If Salem could hear you speak, she might call this treachery.”

“Have you no more self-respect than this? Is to threaten me with Salem’s displeasure, to play the informant lurking beneath the windowsill, the only argument which you possess?” Cinder demanded. “Gods, you are a feeble wretch.”

She turned away, turning her back on Tempest as she walked to the dining room wall, placing her fingers upon the faded, mildewed, mouldy wallpaper. “You have nothing that was not given to you, and one day, it will be taken back.”

“What do you have that was not given to you?” Tempest retorted.

“I have enough pride not to go running to complain that the bad girl is saying mean things,” Cinder snapped.

“And where has your pride gotten you?” Tempest asked in a voice that was soft and sharp. She paused. “The answer to your question is that I have no fears of such, for I do not intend to fail.”

Cinder snorted. “Then you are a fool. Even if you win every battle, even if you do everything that is asked of you without fault, eventually, you will become old and tired and unable to serve, unable to keep up with the new young proteges of Ozpin or whoever succeeds him after he is dead. The aged stag can win a hundred battles, but eventually, some young buck will prove the stronger, the faster, with all the vigour and vitality of youth that has deserted the old king. And what do you think Salem will do with you then?”

“If you believe that, then why are you still here?” Tempest asked.

“Because I am not a turncoat, for all my faults,” Cinder said, turning to face Tempest once again. Because I have nowhere else to go. Because I am not fit for the company of heroes. Because I have been made for shadows now; I cannot bear the light for too long.

Because death and inexorable destiny is waiting for me; I have nothing else.

“I will fight for Salem, I will fulfil my obligations to her, I will honour her the good services that she has done for me, I will place the Relic of Choice in her hands and any other Relics she bids me fetch for her, but I am under no illusions: she is not a good lord who will keep and care for me when I am old and tired; she is not my mother. I am an instrument, as we all are, and like all tools, we will be replaced for superior models when the time comes. It does not change where my allegiance lies, but it does mean that I wish to take some care with the other tools and not break hammers pounding on a wall. In truth, I regret the Breach now, such a slaughter of beowolves and ursai and all the rest and all—”

“And all for the plan,” Tempest said. “Something like the Breach was necessary; what would you have done otherwise?”

Cinder shrugged. “Let the White Fang shoot their shot unharried by the grimm? It would have struck a blow for faunus rights, to be sure, if not the one that Adam was expecting. Or perhaps not. I would have thought of something.”

Tempest stared at Cinder, eyes boring into her, as if trying to ferret Cinder’s truth out of her heart. “And that is your only reason?”

My only reason? You have no idea, none at all.

I told Emerald that I did not wish to see Vale destroyed, and loosing even more grimm upon the city would make me seem disingenuous in her eyes.

And then there were those two members of Team SAPR, those who Tempest claimed weakened her in her obsession.

She had no idea.

Sunset was willing to give up everything for me, turn her back upon her friends, her dreams, her … everything. And Pyrrha … Pyrrha dealt with me honourably. When Ruby wanted to kill me, Pyrrha would have none of it because we had made a bargain, and she would see that bargain honoured to the last, though it would have been wiser to have cut me down while my back was turned.

How can I repay kindness and honour with more battles, with the risk of dishonourable death in the maws of the grimm, with more danger looming over Vale? Would it not prove Ruby right about me?

That would be, not the very worst possible thing, perhaps, but I would fain indeed prove that self-righteous little madam to have been correct.

I would be better than she thinks, than they all think, save only Sunset. No, even Sunset does not think I have goodness in me, not really. I would be better than they think.

The great Pyrrha once gave Juturna’s body back to her mother and father and let them have twelve days of peace to host the funeral games.

I would be as noble as a warrior princess of old and let them have their games in peace.

“That is the only reason that need concern you,” Cinder declared.

Tempest’s face twitched. “Salem may not be so concerned with the lives of the grimm as you.”

“Your place in Salem’s affections has already passed its zenith,” Cinder informed her. “The little moment when she would hear you with eager ears and think the worst of me has passed already.” She could not resist a smirk. “You threw your lofty perch aside when you put your spiteful desire to be rid of Emerald over your duty to Salem. Now she will hear us both equally.”

“And you will tell her that you can win a victory without the loss of grimm?”

“I will tell her that I can bring back the Relic of Choice without any fuss or bother.”

“I understood that Beacon Tower was to fall and Ozpin with it,” Tempest replied. “A great victory to—”

“To what?” Cinder asked. “To rouse the world in arms against this menace? To inspire heroes to rise up and resist her? What does a queen of shadows, veiled in darkness, need with a statement or a great victory? As for Ozpin, he will die, and he will tell me where he has stowed the Relic before he dies, but the tower? It is not worth the cost, and Salem will see that if you force me to persuade her of it.”

The doorhandle rattled, and there was the sound of a stuck door thumping as someone tried to open it from without.

“The door’s stuck again,” Emerald opined from the other side, because that was another issue with this old house; not all of the doors opened and closed smoothly any more.

“Put your shoulder to it,” Cinder called back to her.

“That hardly seems ladylike,” Emerald replied, putting a little more affectation into her accent as she said it.

Cinder snorted. “True enough, but even ladies must make exception to avoid being trapped in rooms.”

There was a pause, then a heavy crashing thud, and then another, and then a third as the door burst open and Emerald half staggered in.

Cinder was reminded that Emerald could really do with a wardrobe change; no lady would show that much stomach after all, although showing legs was perfectly acceptable for daywear nowadays.

So it goes, after all, until in the end, anything goes.

“What is it?” Tempest demanded.

Emerald straightened up, raising her chin in an attempt to look down at Tempest despite the difference in their heights.

She didn’t quite manage it, but she’d get there.

“The Mistralian ships have arrived,” she said. “You can see them passing over if you go outside.”

Cinder smiled. “Well then, we should get some sun, shouldn’t we?”

And without another word to Tempest, she walked away, down the long dining room table, joining Emerald as they swept out of the dining room, leaving Tempest to follow in their wake.

Tempest did follow, and the three of them swiftly made it out of the house and into the decaying gardens of the house that once must have been not only large but bright and beautiful and well tended to as well.

All gone now, of course, nothing left but decay.

Still, at least turning her eyes upwards to the sky afforded Cinder some distraction from it.

The Mistralian ships were passing overhead, directly overhead, blotting out the sun and casting long shadows over the overgrown and weed-infested grass as they made their sluggish, lumbering way towards Vale.

They were large ships, to be sure, and being large, there was something viscerally impressive about them: such length, so much metal, so many guns.

Cinder doubted their effectiveness, however; if ships of this size and design were that good, then the Atlesians would build them that way. The fact that they had gone in a radically different direction suggested that these flying fortresses might not be so secure as they might seem.

Luckily, neither Vale nor Mistral will have to find out.

“Quite a sight, aren’t they?” Emerald asked.

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Cinder replied. “If only because there is so very much to see.”

Emerald frowned. “It must take a big crew to man a ship that size.”

“Also undoubtedly, although that doesn’t mean the Mistralians brought more than a skeleton crew with them.”

“Do you think?”

“I have no proof either way, but they came to deliver the ships, not fight with them,” Cinder said. “Of course, if they did bring the vessels fully-crewed, that makes things rather interesting, doesn’t it?” She turned to Tempest. “Chaos, confusion, and the opportunity for all sorts of misplaced blame. Just as I said. And no need whatsoever for a grimm attack.”

Tempest did not reply.

Ironwood stood on the bridge of the Valiant, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed upon the image displayed in front of him as the Mistralian ships arrived in the skies over Vale.

There were five of them: two large battleships, the two ships that the Valish had purchased from Mistral; and three civilian skyliners, one of which had been converted to a carrier from which a wing of airships had just taken off.

The airships that emerged from the carrier were undoubtedly the most modern thing about this small Mistralian flotilla: they were the latest MARS designs, unless he was much mistaken, and as much as he thought that they were a little over-engineered, what with the way that a part of the fuselage seemed to have been cut away in the centre to make room for a rotor blade which formed part of the VTL, they were undoubtedly very good at what they did, perhaps an equal to the Atlesian Skydarts.

Was that what Mistral had paid for with the profits of their sale of the two battleships? They obviously hadn’t spent the lien on a carrier, which was very obviously a civilian airship that had hastily been turned into an ad hoc space to store the airships for the journey over here.

And then there were two airships which simply looked like skyliners, no more, no less. There were no visible weapons present of any kind on either of them.

Which was more than could be said for the two battleships, the things that had brought the Mistralians to Vale — although why they had come to Vale city was, at the moment, leaving him a little perplexed.

In any case, they were here: two battleships and their attendant escorts moving slowly over Vale, heading towards Beacon.

The battleships themselves were certainly well-armed, making up for the lack of armaments present on the skyliners, bristling with guns set in turrets and barbettes all along every side of the sloping, almost egg-shaped hull. The guns varied greatly in size, from the great guns in their twin turrets fore and aft, to the large, but not quite so large single turrets mounted on the sides of the hull — from what he could see, Ironwood would put the main guns at 15 inches and the smaller at 9.2 inches — and then to smaller secondary guns making up a vast broadside on every side of the two airships.

The Mistralian fighters had formed a screen in front of the two capital ships, but the Mistralians were paying — or appeared to be paying — little attention to the Courageous and Resolution moving in on their left, or to the Gallant and Vigilant coming in on their right, or, indeed, to the various Atlesian airships that were either supporting the cruisers or making flybys of the Mistralian ships in order to get a better look at them.

There was nothing to suggest that the Mistralians had come here looking to pick a fight, but if they had, then they wouldn’t catch the Atlesians unprepared.

“Schnee,” he said, “what’s your opinion?”

Winter was standing on his right and just behind him. She came to attention before she said, “I’d like to know who’s in those airships, sir.”

“They could be empty, or mostly empty,” Fitzjames suggested from his chair. “After all, the men who flew those two behemoths here have to get home somehow. It would be rather cold to expect them to pay for their own passage back to Mistral.”

“Perhaps,” Schnee acknowledged. “Although that makes me wonder why the Valish didn’t send crews over to Mistral to pick them up.”

“Because then they wouldn’t have arrived over Vale flying Mistralian colours,” Ironwood said. “This is about power projection, Schnee.”

“A concept you’re familiar with, Major Schnee, I’m sure,” Fitzjames said.

Winter did not reply, although Ironwood could sense her stiffening behind him without him having to turn and look at her. This business with her family — or with the SDC, rather, but the Schnee Dust Company was so indelibly associated with the Schnee family for obvious reasons that it was hard to separate the two — had made things difficult for her. Belladonna and Dash had done the right thing, of course, but nevertheless, it had made things difficult for Winter, as it had no doubt made things difficult for her sister too.

It wasn’t talked about, obviously. It wasn’t mentioned ever, nobody discussed it over dinner in the officers’ mess, that was not the done thing at all, but you could feel people thinking about it, you could hear it under the words they said, or in what they did not say, in the glances they shot her way.

Unfortunately, there was very little he could do to protect Schnee from it; not that she had asked for his protection, nor would she. She would bear this on her own, or try to.

He just hoped that, if she could not bear it, she would come to him before it was too late.

“Focus, Fitzjames,” Ironwood said with a slight growl in his voice. “Eyes on the Mistralians.”

Fitzjames sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Aye, sir.”

“Eighty years since the Great War,” Winter said, “and now, they decide that they want to get back on the world stage. Why?”

“Because they always wanted to, and this is the first opportunity they’ve had,” Fitzjames offered.

“Or because it took this long, and this opportunity, for those that always did to convince a majority to think their way,” Ironwood said. “Or the Breach acted a shock to the system and convinced them that they needed to strengthen their defences.”

“If defence was their intent they would have kept their ships at home and in their ownership,” Winter murmured.

“The trip was well worth it if they persuaded the Valish to part with lien for those,” Fitzjames declared. “Their salesmen must have honey on their tongues.”

“Mistral is the home of MARS, after all,” Winter reminded them.

“Those ships weren’t built by MARS,” Fitzjames replied.

“As far as I’m aware, MARS doesn’t build capital ships, or large airships of any kind,” Ironwood said, “but even if they did, government contracts often go to the lowest bidder, not the best.”

There was a collective wordless murmur of acknowledgement from both Schnee and Fitzjames, who had both been in the military long enough to learn that particular truth of the Atlesian service. It was why so much of their equipment was made by the SDC. It was also why the service was blessed with the famous Marigold Foods Plum and Apple Jam, which contained no trace of either plum or apple when tasted.

Ironwood went on, “So, Fitzjames, you don’t rate the ships?”

“No, sir.”

“Schnee?”

“I can see Major Fitzjames’ point,” Winter said. “They don’t look very manoeuvrable, and those engines at the back are a definite vulnerability. But, on the other hand, I wouldn’t like to take a volley from all those guns.”

“Projectile cannons,” Fitzjames said. “Not a laser or a missile in sight.”

“They’ll still hurt if they hit,” Winter said.

“All the same, putting those weapons on airships went out of date years ago, decades,” Fitzjames said. “Who still uses twelve-inch guns on an airship these days?”

“They’re sixteen-inch guns,” Winter corrected him. “I take your point, but note that the Valish are still using eight-inch guns on their destroyers.”

“That isn’t a recommendation for either, Major,” Fitzjames said. He paused for a moment. “Those are twelve-inch guns; there’s no way they were able to mount sixteens.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because if they could fit sixteen-inch guns, they’d know better than to use guns,” Fitzjames said.

“I see,” Winter murmured. “I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree. Unless you’d like to wager on it?”

“How much do you have in mind, Major?”

“Fifty lien?”

“Deal.”

“Focus, children,” Ironwood said dryly.

Winter cleared her throat. “Apologies, sir.”

“You both have good points,” Ironwood said. “The designs of these ships may be suboptimal, but it doesn’t follow that they’re not dangerous. At least to cruisers. Irving, get me Spitfire.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Lieutenant Irving said. “Spitfire, this is Valiant, I have Actual requesting to speak with you.”

“Valiant Actual, this is Spitfire, reading you loud and clear.”

“What’s it look like from where you are, Spitfire?” Ironwood asked.

“Sir, if you were wondering how the Mistralians were able to come up with an airship wing so fast, the answer is 'they bought one,'” Spitfire said, “Can you see the airships on your screen?”

“I can, Spitfire.”

“Then keep your eyes on them, Actual, and watch this,” Spitfire said.

Ironwood didn’t need to wait long to find out what he was supposed to be watching: an Atlesian Skydart, with the markings of the Wonderbolt squadron — a yellow lightning bolt upon a blue shield — on the wings, descending upon the Mistralian airships from above.

As Ironwood watched, the airship flipped, so that it was belly up and top down towards the ground, so that Spitfire could look down and see out of the cockpit roof.

And she stayed that way as she lowered closer and closer to the lead airship in the Mistralian formation, until there was a matter of mere feet separating the two cockpits.

“How in the gods’ names is she being allowed to get away with that?” Fitzjames muttered.

“I am looking straight down,” Spitfire said, “at a robot in the cockpit of this airship. They don’t have pilots; they have point and click droids programmed to fly.”

“Are you afraid of being replaced, Spitfire?” Winter asked.

“Whoever said that, I’m within spitting distance, and this piece of junk hasn’t even noticed me yet,” Spitfire said scornfully. “I’d be amazed if these things make it to a minute in a real fight. There’s some things you can’t substitute a machine for a person.”

“Spitfire, break contact before they get a software upgrade,” Ironwood instructed.

“Understood, sir,” Spitfire said, banking upwards, rolling rightside up as she did so, turning away from the Mistralian formation to rejoin her squadron.

The Mistralian airships, and the robots that piloted them, did not react at all.

“Spitfire,” Ironwood said. “Did you see what kind of robots were piloting those airships?”

“AK-200s, sir.”

“They’re not supposed to be on sale to the general public yet,” Winter muttered indignantly. “How did they get them?”

“A better question might be 'who in the SDC sold them?'” Ironwood said. “Spitfire, what’s your opinion on the capital ships, from a fighter’s perspective?”

“From a fighter’s perspective, it looks like those are manual guns, not automated,” Spitfire said, “so I doubt they could keep up with a Skydart in the air. On the other hand, there’s so many of them that I wouldn’t like to fly into that volume of fire, and I definitely wouldn’t want to risk bombers getting close to them.”

“Understood, Spitfire. Then it’s a good thing it shouldn’t come to that.”

“Sir,” Irving called out from the comms station. “The Mistralians are hailing us, a Polemarch Yeoh wishes to speak with you.”

“Spitfire, continue to monitor the Mistralians,” Ironwood said. “Valiant Actual out. Put the Mistralians on-screen, Lieutenant.”

The image of the Mistralian ships disappeared from the viewscreen, replaced by the oval-shaped face of a woman in middle-age, probably, although she had that very well-preserved quality of some Mistralian women which meant they scarcely seemed to age at all between twenty and sixty — they should all be so lucky.

She had coal-black hair, worn loose down below her shoulders, with dark brown eyes and skin of that golden-bronze tone sometimes found in Mistral. Although only her head and shoulders were visible, from the shoulders, it looked as though she was wearing a blue uniform, with gold detailing around the tight collar and upon her epaulettes.

"Polemarch Yeoh, I presume," Ironwood said.

"Indeed, General," Yeoh replied. "It is good to meet you again."

"Have we met before?"

"Not personally, I admit," Yeoh said, "but we fought together at the Valley of Tombs. I was with the Black Band at the time."

"That was a few years ago now," Ironwood said.

He had been a colonel at the time, commanding the Sixth Squadron based in Vacuo, serving the two masters of the Headmaster of Shade and the SDC's Vice-President of Vacuan Operations. A settlement by the name of Bauxite had been threatened by a grimm horde, and as Vacuans usually did, the inhabitants had attempted to retreat to safety, escorted by a mercenary company originally from Mistral. But not only had the grimm pursued them, but another group of grimm had come down in front of them, trapping them in the Valley of Tombs, where the ancient kings and queens of Vacuo had been laid to rest. Ironwood had taken his ships, and his men, and gone to their aid, sending one ship and one company of infantry to check the advance of the southern grimm while blasting his way through the northern horde with the bulk of his forces.

"And yet, I still remember the sight of your ships flying overhead, dispensing destruction to the grimm below," Yeoh replied. "It is my great hope that, one day, Mistralian ships will stir the hearts of men below in just the same way."

"Speaking of Mistralian ships—"

"There was no need, General, for you to order your cruisers to form a pincer movement," Yeoh informed him. "I am not here as an enemy; I am merely making delivery of a legal purchase of our two battleships to Vale."

"But I hope you won't blame me for being cautious," Ironwood replied.

"I would be a little disappointed if you weren't," Yeoh admitted.

"May I ask, Polemarch, why someone with what I recognise as a senior rank if my history is holding up is running a delivery?" Ironwood asked. "And also why you are delivering these ships here and not to the yards in Alexandria?"

"The answer to your second question is that the Valish wanted the ships here," Yeoh replied, "and the customer is always right, are they not? As for your first question, I thought that this little expedition might be just the thing to season the new recruits to my nascent force, and so, with the permission of the Valish Council, I have brought the First Cohort of the Common Army to take part in joint exercises with the Valish Defence Force."

"I see," Ironwood said blandly. He had not been informed of this, but then, the Valish no doubt took the view that he was obliged to keep them informed of everything but not the other way around. Plus, he could hardly complain about a Valish lack of forthcomingness at this point, with everything he had failed to tell Councillor Aris this past year. "May I ask what kind of exercises?"

"Drill, some Opposing Force out beyond the Green Line," Yeoh said. "I understand grimm numbers have been weakened around Vale, so we might go out hunting some; it will be good for the men to get some kills under their belts and learn that the grimm can be killed."

"But they are not to be trifled with, all the same," Ironwood said. "Be careful; estimates of grimm numbers can turn out to be inaccurate."

"I am always careful, General," Yeoh said, "but if I get in trouble, I expect you to rescue me again, just as you did at Valley of Tombs."

Ironwood snorted. "I'll do my best," he said, "but with good fortune, you'll find your time in Vale to be tedious and dull."

Yeoh chuckled. "Whatever else happens, we will be here for the Vytal Festival, and in my experience, the Vytal Festival is never dull. Disappointing for a Mistralian, frequently, but never dull."

"Are you telling me that you flew all this way so that you could watch the matches personally?" Ironwood asked.

"No, General, but it was a welcome bonus," Yeoh admitted. "As one patriot to another, I don't suppose I can interest you in a wager on the relative performance of Mistralian and Atlesian students?"

"Atlesian and Mistralian, or Atlas and Haven students?"

"Either," Yeoh replied. "Both, if you wish; we can have more than one bet."

"As a teacher," Ironwood declared, "I shouldn't indulge in gambling; it sets a bad example to the students. And to my subordinate officers."

"You sound like my daughter, General, protecting her children from the threat of vice," Yeoh said. "A threat which, to hear her, you would believe to be ever-present in the dystopian cesspit of Mistral. Where is the harm in a gentleman's wager?"

"As my students are reminded, it may start with a gentleman's wager, but it doesn't always end there," Ironwood said. "I'm sorry, Polemarch."

"No matter; I will simply have to settle for bragging rights," Yeoh replied.

"You're very confident, considering that Haven's history in the tournament is … underwhelming," Ironwood said.

Yeoh smiled. "Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling this year may be different."

"Well, in any case," Ironwood said. "I wish you good hunting, if you decide to do any, and a welcome stay in Mistral."

"And I wish you peace, in the skies above and on the earth below," Yeoh said. "Yeoh out."

Her image disappeared.

"The skies may be peaceful," Winter observed, "but they are getting a little crowded."

Pyrrha stood on the wide balcony overlooking the city, watching the Mistralian airships glide to a stately halt in the midst of what was becoming an ever more crowded sky. In addition to General Ironwood’s airships, whose numbers had increased by a full one-third since the Breach, bringing the total number of cruisers up to twelve, had previously been added two Valish destroyers, and now, these Mistralian battleships and their escorts.

And the great Amity Arena, the airborne colosseum where the Vytal Tournament would be held, had not even arrived from Solitas yet; when it did, would there be any room for it to float without a ship bumping into it?

Yes, in all likelihood there would — the sky was a large place, after all — but even so, it would add to the sense of congestion up above.

When the Atlesian fleet departed, it would seem very strange to be able to look up and not see them there.

Strange, disconcerting, possibly a little worrying at first.

In any case, the Mistralian airships were continuing to slow down and would, Pyrrha guessed, stop before they passed over the cliffs.

A modest crowd had gathered on the balcony to watch their arrival, not only Pyrrha but Ruby too, and Penny, and Yang, Arslan, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Blake, all of them standing at the wrought iron railings that separated them from the long drop down, all of them with their heads and eyes turned skywards as the ships came in.

The Mistralian battleships were queens of the sky in size terms; they were certainly much larger than any of General Ironwood’s cruisers, or even of his larger carriers, though it might be a little much to say that they dwarfed them. Certainly, they looked as though they could smash through any Altesian ship simply by flying into it, although as slow as they were, it was an open question whether they could hit anything before it got out of the way.

Certainly, they made the Valish warships seem very small by comparison, and undergunned also; whatever questions might have been raised about the state of these two ships — old as they were, mothballed as they had been — from appearances alone, one could very well see why the Valish had desired them to augment their air fleet.

If one looked past all of the guns — and that was somewhat difficult, as there were a great many guns — the Mistralian battleships somewhat resembled whales: they were rounded, slightly bulbous shapes, widening out from the tip and then narrowing in at the back, although not to the extent of any whale that Pyrrha knew of. They even had two immense, fin-like wings at the front, beating up and down, up and down, although instead of a tail fin, there looked to be a substantial engine block mounted at the rear of the two ships, and another pair of wings just ahead of the stern, beating in time with the first.

The whale shape was disguised by the sheer amount of weaponry protruding out of the rounded hull, from the great gun turrets fore and aft to the smaller turrets and barbette guns set into the hull itself. These two ships would have truly formidable broadsides if they ever had cause to fire in anger, but whether a broadside would be as effective against the grimm as against another ship of similar size and build as this, Pyrrha had doubts. After all, nevermores were not slow creatures; they would not sit and wait to take such fire.

Although, with such a volume of fire, how could they avoid it?

Nevertheless, Pyrrha could not shake the impression that these warships had been built more with other warships than the grimm in mind; specifically, it seemed as though the opponent they would be best matched against would be another ship very like themselves, with whom they could trade the fire of their monstrous array of guns. Against an opponent that did not match up so neatly … who could say?

Hopefully, neither they nor Vale would ever have to find out.

“They’re big, aren’t they?” Arslan said.

Yang smirked. “Did you work that out all by yourself?”

“Shut up,” Arslan muttered.

“It’s a pity about the guns,” Ruby said.

“Did you just say ‘it’s a pity about the guns’?” Yang asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Ruby confirmed. “They’re cool guns, don’t get me wrong, those are fifteen inch cannon in the main turrets, and I can see 9.2 inch, 6 inch, and 5.5 inch dual-purpose guns along the hull, but the problem with using guns on a ship is—”

“What if you miss,” Rainbow said.

“Exactly,” Ruby agreed. “Lasers just kind of fizzle out, but those shells are going to hit something, even if it isn’t the target.”

“Unless they have fuses set to detonate after a certain time without contact,” Ciel suggested.

“They’d need to be really short fuses to explode high enough up in the air,” Ruby replied.

“Does it matter?” asked Arslan.

“It matters if you’re going to be dropping shells over our city, yeah,” Yang replied.

“Technically, you’ll be the ones dropping shells on your own city,” Arslan said, “with the ships that you bought from us, but if you wanted lasers, you should have bought lasers; it’s not like you didn’t know what the ships were like before you bought them.”

“We didn’t buy them,” Yang said. “The Council did.”

“I wonder why they’ve come to Vale,” Ruby said, “instead of the docks at Alexandria.”

“For the same reason the Council bought them in the first place; it’s all a big gesture,” Yang said dismissively. “‘Look at us, doing things, taking this seriously, protecting Vale. Look at our new ships, don’t they look cool, don’t you feel safe?’ They’re not here to protect Vale; they’re here to protect Councillor Emerald’s poll ratings.”

“I don’t know if they make anyone feel safe, but those things do not look cool,” Rainbow declared. “They look slow as anything, and Ruby’s right; the guns are all wrong. Guns are all wrong for airships, generally.”

“Are guns wrong for airships because Atlas doesn’t use them, or does Atlas not use them because they’re wrong for airships?” asked Blake in an ever so slightly arch tone.

“Atlas doesn’t use guns on airships because the shells move too slow to hit most flying grimm, and they don’t have tracking capacity like missiles do,” Rainbow said.

“What about point defence?” asked Blake.

“It’s the speed and reaction thing,” said Rainbow. “A manually-controlled turret can’t track the target quickly enough; you need automated systems.”

“Those turrets might be automated,” Ruby pointed out. “We don’t know.”

“I doubt it, with those ships being as old as they are,” Rainbow said. “On top of which, look how slowly they’re moving; I doubt they’ve upgraded the engines from the old models they had when it was built, and even if they had, they’ve built it so big and weighed it down with so much armour and so many guns that you’d need a dozen cruiser engines at least to get it moving.”

“Speed isn’t everything,” Penny pointed out.

“Not if you can protect yourself, I guess,” Rainbow allowed, “but who's going to protect them?”

“They are intended to protect themselves, I imagine,” Ciel said. “Hence the firepower.”

“Mmm,” Rainbow murmured. “That’s what they were hoping for, I’m sure.”

“At a certain point, with so much firepower, won’t it be basically impossible to get close to them?” asked Penny.

“There’s always a way,” Rainbow said. “You just have to be a good enough pilot, that’s all.”

“These ships aren’t here as your enemies,” Yang reminded her.

“I know,” Rainbow said. “I’m not sure everyone down in Vale does, but I know.”

“Indeed,” Ciel murmured. “This would not be so concerning if it were not for the rising tide of sentiment against us.”

“And the faunus,” Blake added.

“It’ll blow over,” Yang said. “Give it a little time, and everyone will calm down and wonder just what they were thinking. I get that I’m not a faunus, and I’m not an Atlesian, and that it’s easier for me to say ‘calm down and wait it out’ than it is for you to actually do it, but … it will blow over. It has to.”

“The festival will bring people together,” Arslan said. “There’s nothing like a festival for smoothing things over, right Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha smiled slightly. “Yes. No matter what is going on in the city, whenever there is a festival or a holiday upon us, the whole city seems to forget its troubles and be seized with a great sense of joy and celebration.”

“Do you have a lot of those?” asked Rainbow.

“Not too many, I think, but some,” Pyrrha replied. “Technically and traditionally speaking, the Mistral Regional Tournament is part of a festival to honour the gods of Victory and War for their mercy and generosity in allowing us to maintain the blessings of peace. We do battle for their entertainment that the city need not bleed for such. Then there is the midwinter Festival of the Departed, where we honour the dead and Erechthoneus, the gods of the underworld, in part by fighting in the Chtoneum under the city.”

“We don’t fight in that one,” Arslan said. “Neither Pyrrha nor me. Some fighters do both, but the Chtoneum attracts a bit of a rougher crowd in every sense. Matches go on until your aura breaks, or sometimes beyond, if the referee decides that it should.”

“So it’s more like real combat, then?” Yang said.

“If I wished to see real combat, I would do as I have done and come to a school like this,” Pyrrha pointed out. “A tournament should be a relief from that, a place of sunlight, not shadow; rules, not murder.”

“'Murder'?” Ruby repeated. “People die there?”

“Rarely,” Pyrrha allowed, “but it does happen.”

“That doesn’t seem very joyful,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Joy was perhaps the wrong word in that particular case, but the whole city does come together to do honour to those that we have lost, to those that have come before us, those that wait as shades for us to join them. It is not a festival of overwhelming jubilation, but it is not unpleasant.”

“And it’s not like there’s no fun to it, either,” Arslan added. “On the first and last night of the festival, when it is said that the boundaries between the living and the dead are thinner than normal, people dress up in monster masks to ward off spirits and go around demanding candy from strangers.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What does that have to do with warding off evil spirits?” asked Yang sceptically.

“You placate them with offerings,” Pyrrha said. “Not knowing who is a real spirit and who is disguised as one. Although—”

“It’s all got a bit commercial these days; people just dress up in costumes,” Arslan said. “Great fun, though, if you’re a kid.”

“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Ruby agreed. “It’s a shame we didn’t have anything like that growing up; that would have been so cool, dressing up as monsters and going around people’s houses asking for candy.”

“And throwing eggs at them if they didn’t give you enough,” Arslan added.

“That’s just mean!” Ruby cried. “Why would you do that?”

“Because we were mean kids, probably, and we didn’t get a lot of chances to do stuff like that,” Arslan admitted. “I bet Pyrrha never did anything like that.”

“My diet did not allow me to eat candy, so I never troubled with any of that,” Pyrrha murmured.

She could have added that she spent the first and last nights of the Festival of the Dead with her mother, communing with her father’s spirit, or trying to, seeking to feel his presence from the other world. She could have, but she did not; it was personal, after all, and she feared to expose herself to ridicule for something that meant a great deal to her.

“Also you’re too good to throw eggs at someone’s house,” Arslan said.

“Well … yes, you are probably right about that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Anyway,” Arslan said, “my point is that nothing brings people together like a public holiday, and that will be true here too. When I was a kid, we used to watch the matches at school.”

“Isn’t school out this time of year in Mistral?” asked Ruby. “It is here in Vale.”

“Technically,” Arslan said. “But, it’s a bit like how school is out, but we’re all still here anyway. Where I grew up, a lot of parents couldn’t afford to take weeks off work to look after their children — I’m talking five-year-olds, eight-year-olds, that kind of age — so the schools stay open, and there’s somewhere to go to do your holiday homework and, in the meantime, watch movies and play in the playground and stuff. And watch the Vytal Festival when it was on.”

“Every year, in Canterlot,” Rainbow said, “the Apples put up a big screen in their barn, and everyone comes around to sit on the hay bales or just on the ground and watch the fights together. Well, not everyone everyone, but a lot of folks.”

“Neon and I had a ritual,” Ciel said. “Her mother has no great care for the tournament, and so Neon would come around to my house to watch it with my family. But, while she was there, her mother would record each match. And so, we would first watch the match live in the company of all of my little brothers, and then we would go back to Neon’s place and watch it again alone together and get to appreciate it on a different level.”

“Apart from the one year when we got to go to Vale and see the final fight live,” Yang said, “we used to just watch the matches at home on TV. But it was the only time of the year when Dad would try and barbecue, something about it being the right time and the right occasion.”

Ruby grinned. “Remember that one time he almost set the garden on fire?”

“Oh, yeah, he sucked at that barbecue so much, it was ridiculous,” Yang said, covering her face with one hand. “Like, Dad, there’s a perfectly good oven in the kitchen, just grill the burgers and the hotdogs, they’ll taste fine, but no, ‘I’m a man, girls, I’ve got this. It’s in my DNA.’ N-no, Dad, no, it isn’t, and no, you don’t. And it was even worse when Uncle Qrow tried to help him.”

Ruby covered her mouth as she giggled. “Wouldn’t have been the same if they hadn’t tried, though.”

“No,” Yang agreed. “No, it wouldn’t. Just like it wouldn’t have been the same if we’d eaten off regular plates and used the knives and forks out of the drawer.”

Ciel frowned. “I can see that you ate with your hands, but was there nowhere to put anything down?”

“Paper plates,” Yang explained. “And plastic disposable cutlery.”

“But why?” Penny asked.

“Because it felt right,” Ruby said. “It made it feel like being at a fair, almost like we were there.”

Yang glanced at Pyrrha. “So, Pyrrha, any Vytal Festival traditions that you had?”

“Not particularly,” Pyrrha confessed. “I also used to watch the matches twice, once for pleasure and once for analysis of the techniques of the fighters, what they could have done differently or better.”

“I don’t have any Vytal Festival traditions,” moaned Penny dispiritedly.

“Neither do I,” Blake said. “It’s not a big deal.”

Yang frowned. “I get why Blake doesn’t have any, what with the whole White Fang thing and all, but why don’t you have any, Penny?”

“Because Penny’s father was very disapproving!” Rainbow blurted out quickly.

“Yes, he disapproved of … the Vytal Festival,” Ciel said. “He would not allow Penny to watch the tournament.”

“Sounds charming,” Yang muttered. “Who disapproves of the Vytal Festival? Everyone loves the Vytal Festival.” She grinned and gave Penny a slapped pat on the back. “But look on the bright side, Penny: you get to make whole new Vytal Festival traditions right here with all your friends!”

Penny gasped. “That’s right! Oh, that’s going to be so much fun, I can hardly wait!”

“None of us can, Penny,” Ruby assured her.

“By the time this is over, we’ll all have a bunch of awesome new memories,” Rainbow said. “We owe that to ourselves. Great fights, great friends, how can we not?”

Pyrrha’s scroll buzzed. So did Arslan’s.

“Excuse me,” Pyrrha murmured as she got out her scroll to see that she’d received a text message.

“What is it, Pyrrha?” asked Penny.

“I am invited to dine with Polemarch Yeoh tonight aboard the battleship Dingyuan,” Pyrrha announced.

“And so,” Arslan said, “am I.”

The interior of the Mistralian flagship — the Dingyuan, the name meaning ‘Eternal Peace’; Pyrrha could not help but find it a strange name for a warship — had the same faux-antique style of so much else that came out of Mistral. The floor on which Pyrrha and Arslan’s feet trod was wooden, as were the walls of the corridors down which she was shown as she was led towards the commander’s cabin. Quite what the Valish would make of this when they took possession of the vessel, she could not say.

As the two of them walked, Pyrrha smiled politely at the crewmen and soldiers she encountered on the way, waving back when they waved to her, courteously acknowledging the kind of awe in which she was regarded by some of them.

Arslan waved also, and her smile seemed a little more genuine on her face, or at least, Pyrrha could not help but see it so.

“You don’t like this, do you?” Arslan whispered out of the corner of her eye.

“How can you tell?” Pyrrha asked quietly.

“'Cause you’ve got that expo smile plastered onto your face like in the publicity; I can tell it’s fake.”

“Can anyone else tell?” asked Pyrrha anxiously.

“Nah, you’re pretty good at this; I only notice because I’ve been around you a lot.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured wordlessly, glancing around the ship at the sailors who glanced at them, smiled at them, waved to them, took their pictures as they moved through the corridors of the immense battleship. Who were they? How had they come to be here, crewing Mistral’s ships on their first and last voyage for Mistral? Sailors on civilian airships, she supposed, lured by better pay perhaps. Would they remain in uniform? It seemed as though Mistral would certainly seek to construct its own airships in the future, to build a fleet to go along with its new army, but would these men remain to crew it, or would they go back to their peaceful occupations and forsake the realer risks that would come being part of the crew of an active warship?

A part of her recognised, or at least considered, that it was no bad thing for Mistral to have an army and a navy; Atlas did, after all, and even Vale possessed a self-defence force. There were far, far worse things in the world, after all, than to have a force under arms to protect the city and the kingdom from attack. But at the same time, as she looked back at all the faces looking at her and Arslan, at the men and women in their blue overalls stained with sweat and grease, in their uniform tunics with blue and white neckerchiefs tied around their necks, in their cloth caps and berets with ‘Dingyuan’ picked out in white stitching, she could not help but wish that these men and women were not endangered, even if they had volunteered for danger. A part of her, the princess part of her perhaps, could not help but wish that she and those like her could protect the people and the realm without the need for its common folk to venture their own lives upon the hazards of the field.

“It’s a nice ship, this,” Arslan said. “It seems almost a shame to sell it.”

“A warship’s worth is not its interior,” Pyrrha murmured. “I have no doubt the new ships Mistral acquires will be much more effective and will look just as nice on the inside.”

Pyrrha and Arslan were shown into a spacious cabin, with a bed shoved up against the wall and table set for three. A variety of antique weapons — swords, bows, early and primitive guns of various types — hung on the walls, as did various kinds of lutes with an increasing variety of strings.

Polemarch Yeoh, dressed in a blue uniform with gold brocade around her wrists, smiled as the two students, each wearing her huntress attire, were ushered in. “Lady Pyrrha, Miss Altan,” she said, striding forward and holding out one hand. “Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“The gratitude is mine, ma’am,” Pyrrha said as she took the older woman’s hand. The commander’s grip was firm and strong.

“And so is the honour,” Arslan added as she shook the Polemarch’s hand in turn.

“Not at all; I’m honoured to host the great champions of the arena, the heroes of Mistral,” Polemarch Yeoh said, without a trace of anything but sincerity in her voice. “In fact, I almost hate to ask, but would you mind having your picture taken? I’m afraid my granddaughter will never believe I’ve met you both without some kind of proof.”

“Oh, of course,” Pyrrha said. “We’d be glad to, wouldn’t we?”

Arslan nodded. “Always happy to pose for a picture.”

Polemarch Yeoh chuckled. “I believe your fame owes as much to the grace with which you bear it as to your respective skill at arms.”

She put her arms around their shoulders, placing herself in the middle of Pyrrha and Arslan so that they were lined up in height order, as Yeoh turned the both of them around to face the yeoman who had shown them to the room.

He had already gotten his scroll out and was wielding it like a camera.

Polemarch Yeoh drew them both a little closer to her, while she beamed delightedly.

Arslan grinned and made a peace sign with one hand.

Pyrrha smiled and waved.

“Got it,” the yeoman said.

“Excellent,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “You’ve just made Grandma look very cool.”

“Always happy to help a fan,” Arslan said.

“How old is your granddaughter?” asked Pyrrha.

“Mei is six,” Polemarch Yeoh said, “and very enamoured with you both, as so many of our people are.”

“Oh, kid fans are the best,” Arslan said. “No offence, ma’am, if you’re one of my older fans, but at your granddaughter’s age … they see you most clearly, I think. They don’t believe all the gossip magazine crap about what a horrible person you are when the lights are off.”

“Indeed,” Polemarch Yeoh said, “or that you are a traitor to Mistral and to Remnant secretly in league with your enemies, eh, Lady Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “The … staunch support of the young is a comfort in trying times, yes. I am blessed by all those who continue to believe in me, but Arslan is correct, the faith of the children is … gratifying.”

Polemarch Yeoh chuckled. “In as much as she can understand why some have turned against you, Mei cannot accept that someone so pretty as you could possibly have sinister motives. After all, princesses are never evil.”

“Neither I nor Arslan claimed that their loyalty was logically motivated,” Pyrrha admitted, “but it means much to me nonetheless.”

“As it should,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “After all, events have shown that the hearts of we adults can be fickle things; the faith of a child should be considered something precious and held dear while it lasts. Please, both of you, sit down. I would offer you wine, but you are still young, and I believe from your interviews that you do not partake.”

“No, I don’t touch the stuff,” Arslan said. “I’ve seen too much of the worst effects of it.”

“And my health regimen does not permit it,” Pyrrha said, “but thank you for the offer.”

“You are both very wise,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “Alcohol will be the ruin of an athletic body. May I offer you some green tea instead?”

“That would be very kind of you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Polemarch Yeoh clicked her fingers, and her yeoman bowed his head and disappeared, reappearing a very short while later with a tray on which he bore a pot of green tea and three small china cups.

Pyrrha and Arslan sat still and quiet as he set the cups in front of them and poured the tea.

“Thank you, Lin,” Polemarch Yeoh said. She raised her cup. “To you both,” she said, “and may I hope that I am joined by a future Vytal champion.”

“You honour us, ma’am,” Pyrrha said, before she drank.

“Do I exaggerate?” Polemarch Yeoh asked. “Of all the Mistralian students competing in the Vytal Festival, are there any more likely to take the laurels than the two of you?”

“It is not certain that either of us will be competing in the tournament,” Pyrrha said.

“Speak for yourself, P-money,” Arslan said. “I can secure my spot through victory. Although I don’t know why you think Professor Ozpin won’t pick your team to compete. In the first place, he owes you for sending you into Mountain Glenn, and in the second place, if he trusts you to go into Mountain Glenn, why wouldn’t he think you were good enough for the tournament?”

“All the same, I would hate to presuppose,” Pyrrha said.

“Your modesty does you credit, but I think Miss Altan speaks the truth,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “I would be astonished if you and your teams were not both placed in the thirty-two teams that will open the tournament, and once there, I think — and most of Mistral agrees with me, I’m sure — that you will both progress all the way to the final eight.”

“Unless we have the … unless we end up facing one another in the four by four round,” Pyrrha said, a slight smile pricking at the corner of her mouth.

Arslan groaned. “Don’t tempt fate, Pyrrha. I want … does it make me sound too like Cinder if I say I want to go one on one with you one last time?”

“So long as you don’t want to destroy Vale, then you are nothing like Cinder,” Pyrrha assured her.

“Low bar, but thanks,” Arslan muttered. “The point is that … whether I have a chance or not, I want to stand or fall against you without Jaune sneaking up on me from behind or anyone having the chance to say that you would have beaten me if it weren’t for my team ganging up on you or Jaune getting in your way.”

“Jaune has improved greatly,” Pyrrha declared. “He wouldn’t hinder me in the way you suggest.”

“Good for him, but not really my point,” Arslan said.

“No, you … whether or not you have a chance?” Pyrrha repeated.

“I was there for your fight against Cinder, remember?” Arslan said. “But I’ll give it my best shot, don’t you worry.”

“And then you will both retire, as has been mooted?” Polemarch Yeoh asked.

“It seems odd to speak of retirement at my age,” Pyrrha said. “I will become a huntress and give my attention to it full time.”

“Me too,” Arslan said. “It wasn’t what I originally planned, but … if I may, Polemarch, what are you doing here if not because you realised that the world was a more dangerous place than you’d thought and it needs capable people to step up and fight for it?”

“An excellent point,” Polemarch Yeoh conceded. “If rather disappointing for Mei.”

Arslan grinned. “I intend to make sure that there’s plenty to entertain Mei and others about my adventures in the field.”

“Indeed? Something to look forward to,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “Mistral will mourn, of course, the loss of its prize entertainers, but for myself … it is a worthy cause to which you commit yourself, a worthier cause than any I served when I was your age. I must admit, I envy you, to be so certain of your future course at your age and to be so committed to it that the call of fame and fortune means so little to you.”

“Well,” Arslan muttered, clearing her throat, “I wouldn’t go that far, but you have a sense of proportion, don’t you?”

“Lady Pyrrha,” Polemarch Yeoh said, “if I may ask … I do not ask what exactly happened under Mountain Glenn, but I do ask … what is going on that led to Mountain Glenn? Who is Cinder Fall, why did she conspire with the White Fang to breach Vale’s defences? Though our Common Army may be small, as the appointed Polemarch, I have, I think, a right as well as a desire to know if some such danger, this madwoman or another like her, will soon emerge to cast over Mistral next?”

Arslan leaned forwards without a word.

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. I will keep your secrets, Professor, but the Polemarch is right; she has a right to know. “I fear that similar danger may threaten all kingdoms, yes.”

“Why?” Polemarch Yeoh demanded. “Who are these people, and what do they want?”

“Despite what has been alleged, I was not so close to Cinder as to privy to all her wants and desires,” Pyrrha replied, “but I believe that she is a sort of … grimm cultist, of a particularly dangerous sect.”

“Grimm cultists have sects?” Arslan asked. “I mean, everyone knows they can do some horrible things, but everyone also knows that they’re basically a bunch of loser freaks, meeting in basements and chanting.”

“Not this group,” Pyrrha said. “They … they aim to—”

“I think I can guess what these deluded creatures aim at, to offer up our kingdoms and our cities to the monsters they worship,” Polemarch Yeoh said.

“Um, yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, that is it exactly. At least, I believe it so; as I say, I have not discussed Cinder’s motivations with her in great detail.”

Polemarch Yeoh ignored that, saying, “That there are such people in the world. I suppose it would be too much to ask that you know their plans for Mistral?”

“No, Polemarch, I do not,” Pyrrha said.

Polemarch Yeoh nodded as she leaned back in her seat. “Then we must make ourselves as strong as we can and settle for that.”

“By selling our ships?” Arslan asked. “I’m sorry, but if you were that worried, wouldn’t you keep them? I may not be as well-educated as Pyrrha, but I know why a snail has a house: to live in it.”

Polemarch Yeoh was quiet for a moment, leaning back in her chair. “You are correct,” she said. “Although I am glad to know the truth about the attack on Vale, the truth is also that I do not believe there is an imminent threat to Mistral. If the attack on Vale had succeeded, that would be something else, but with the assault repulsed, the White Fang destroyed here in Vale and quiescent in Mistral, and Mistral lacking the obvious vulnerability of the Mountain Glenn tunnel … I am not too concerned. Madmen as these cultists are, they would need to be as foolish as they are mad to attempt a new assault so soon after the failure of their last. Who will help this Cinder Fall now, all her designs ending in failure? But the danger, though it is more apparent than real, is nevertheless of great use to Mistral, and to me.

“I have long been a client of the Ming family and a supporter of the Self-Strengthening faction in the Council. Why should Mistral be dependent upon Atlesian protection? Why should we have no army of our own with which to defend not only ourselves but also our neighbours? Why should we weaken ourselves to a handful of swords, content to see our brave young people enlist not under the banner of their kingdom but in a plethora of mercenary companies?”

“Or become huntsmen and huntresses,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Of course,” Polemarch Yeoh conceded. “I am not suggesting anything like the Atlesian Specialist system, but I see no reason why we should not have troops, a fleet; even the Valish can say as much, and we are a larger and a wealthier kingdom than they, more populous, rich in martial heritage—”

“Perhaps the fact that our heritage is one of warrior heroes, not of soldiers, explains our present, or until recent, lack of an army,” Pyrrha said.

Polemarch Yeoh smiled. “Very likely, that has something to do with it, but do you think that warrior heroes alone are sufficient for today’s world?”

“I … would like to,” Pyrrha replied softly, “but in all honesty, I cannot say for certain.”

Polemarch Yeoh nodded. “For too long, the Council and the people have balked at the expense of ships and men, content to leave things as they are, to keep the tax rates low, to trust in huntsmen. The Breach may not have cost many Valish lives, but it has shocked Mistral out of its complacency, and for that, I welcome it. With this threat, this shadow looming over the city, I will fashion a great instrument, a weapon such as none of the great lords of Mistral’s past dreamed of possessing, and if ever I am questioned, if ever anyone asks if so much lien may be spent, I will tell them ‘remember the Breach and think on such a sight in Mistral’s streets,’ and that will quiet them. And it all begins here, selling the Valish our antiques and using the proceeds to buy new, first-rate ships capable of standing up to any grimm or Atlesian man-of-war in battle.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Arslan asked. “What if the danger is realer than you think?”

Polemarch Yeoh was quiet for a moment. “I hope,” she said, “it will not come to that.”

“So do we all, I think,” Pyrrha said softly. “So do we all.”

Author's Note

I feel like a terrible tease putting this chapter up instead of the one you all want (which is coming next, I promise) but there is a reason for it: this chapter has to happen before the start of the tournament, and since the next few chapters are all going to be very preoccupied this really is the best time for it to happen.

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is a complete rewrite, with the major changes being the presence of Arslan at dinner along with Pyrrha and the scene at the beginning with Tempest and Cinder

Parallels and Divergences (New)

Parallels and Divergences

“Hey, Yang,” Blake said, “can I talk to you for a second?”

Yang paused on her way to the door, one hand already reached out to grasp the handle. She let that hand fall to her side as she turned to face Blake. “Sure thing, what’s up?”

The two of them were in the dorm room, Team YRBN’s dorm room, that was currently Blake’s room but which wouldn’t be for very much longer.

Blake supposed that it had always felt like a transient space for her, somewhere that she was passing through, not putting down roots, a place that was merely somewhere for her to stay while she figured out where she wanted to spend the foreseeable future. She hadn’t done a lot to make the room her home, although the same could have been said about the BLBL room, when to all indications she had been set to spend four years there.

In any case, the decision to move was not a surprising one; the signs had been there from the beginning.

Hopefully, Yang would see it the same way.

“How’s the parade planning going?” Blake asked; it was putting the subject off, she knew, but at the same time, she didn’t want to get straight down to business; why shouldn’t she and Yang chat a little bit first?

“It’s going slower than the parade hopefully will,” Yang replied, grinning, “but we’ll get there. Most things are pretty hashed out by now, even the teams who want to take part. Now we just need to put them in order.”

“Are there teams who don’t want to take part?”

“Bluebell don’t seem very interested,” Yang replied. “Which is kind of ironic, considering that Ruby thought of them specifically when she argued that teams that weren’t competing should be allowed to join the parade.”

“Did Bon Bon give you a reason why she wasn’t interested?”

“She said she didn’t feel as though they’d earned the right,” Yang said. “I think … I think she’s still kind of down about Sky.”

“Understandable,” Blake murmured. “That kind of pain doesn’t go away so easily.”

“Ruby thought it would honour him,” Yang said. “Honour his memory, you know; like, the team parading with an empty space where he should be. A huntsman who gave his life for the people.”

“I’m sure it sounded good to Ruby,” Blake said, “but to Team Bluebell, it would seem a lot like rubbing salt in the wound, not deliberately, but … it would remind them of what they’ve lost. I don’t blame them for not wanting that.”

“Honestly? Me neither,” Yang said. “They’re the only First Year team that isn’t joining in; the only other Beacon teams that wanted out were a few Third and Fourth Years who did the parade in the last festival in Atlas. Apparently, two years ago, all the students wore uniforms, and the Shade students really stood out.”

“Because they don’t have a uniform at Shade.”

“Precisely,” Yang agreed. “That’s why we’re all going to march through Vale in our combat gear, so that everyone looks the same. I mean everyone looks different, but we’ll all look the same in our embrace of difference, if that makes sense?”

“Unity through diversity,” Blake said, “the spirit of Vytal.”

“I think the spirit of the Vytal Festival ought to include winning some fights as well, but sure, unity through diversity, what our ancestors fought a war for. Or fought a war against, depending on where you come from.”

“Depending on where you come from, it might be possible to have ancestors who fought on neither side,” Blake pointed out.

“True enough,” Yang admitted. “Ruby found out some stuff about our mom while you were away in Atlas, about where she came from and how she got to Beacon. You know, she came from beyond the kingdoms, the land that Vale and Mistral both tried to colonise and ended up starting a war over?”

“Obviously, I didn’t know that, since you only just found out yourself,” Blake said.

Yang chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a good point. But my real point is that I wonder which side her family fought on, or if they fought on any side or just sat out the war and waited to see which side would win.”

“That doesn’t sound much like a Rose, does it?” Blake asked.

Yang snorted. “No, no, it does not. But if you told me that Mom’s grandfather didn’t fight for either army but protected the people from the grimm drawn by the emotions of the war, I could believe that. It would fit with the whole silver-eyed thing.”

Blake nodded. “And your father’s family? I can’t help but notice that Xiao Long is a Mistralian name—”

“Yep,” Yang agreed. “According to my Dad, his great-grandpa got out of Mistral when they started cosying up to Mantle and half adopting all of their no-emotion policies. They were Valish by the time the war started. And how about you? Were your ancestors safe on Menagerie, or...?”

“We don’t tend to trace our family histories back like that,” Blake explained. “Well, no, some do; it depends whether you think that having been a slave is something shameful or that surviving slavery is something to be proud of.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Yang said. “I can’t say I want to find out more about the bandit family that Raven came from.”

“'Bandit'?”

Yang shook her head. “You’ve missed a lot while you’ve been away in Atlas,” she said. “It wasn’t only my mom that I found out more about. I learnt some more about Raven too. She paid me and Ruby a visit to talk about Salem and stuff. Oh, yeah, I know all about that. Sunset told me.”

“Sunset told you?” Blake repeated. “When?”

“After the Breach, when Ruby was in the hospital,” Yang said.

“Was she allowed to do that?”

“Probably not,” Yang replied, “but I’m glad she did. I’d have been more glad if Ruby told me—”

“Are you…?” Blake hesitated for a moment. “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Yang said at once. “I mean, it explains stuff, for sure, but I wouldn’t expect you to tell me a secret like that, any more than I’d expect you to tell Ren or Nora. It was a secret, you were told in confidence, and … it’s not like you really owe us anything. I mean, it explains a lot about what you were up to, but like I said, I wouldn’t expect you to unburden yourself to me. You didn’t owe me the truth. Maybe even Ruby didn’t owe me the truth; it was just … disappointing that she didn’t tell me.”

Blake frowned slightly. “Are you and Ruby okay?”

“Yeah!” Yang declared, turning away from the door and walking back towards the window. “Yeah, we’re cool. It’s all good now. I was upset for a while, but … we’re cool.”

“I see,” Blake murmured. She placed one hand upon the desk that ran along the side of the wall up until the door; the wood felt cool beneath her fingertips. “So … what do you think? About … everything?”

Yang said nothing for a few seconds. Her hands clenched into fists and then unclenched again. She approached the window seat but did not sit down; instead, she bent down, leaning against the window seat, looking out the window at the open grounds heading towards the cliffs.

“I got two minds about it,” she admitted. “Or maybe two souls, like that book of yours. One part of wishes that Ozpin had found me worthy to tell, like he found Ruby and Pyrrha. Wishes that he wasn’t so afraid that I’ll turn out like Raven that he could see how like my mom and dad I am. Or that he’d tell me that I was like my mom and dad by trusting me the way that he trusted them. A part of me wishes that he’d chosen me to fight alongside Ruby in all this—”

“To be with your sister or to be one of the chosen few?” asked Blake quietly.

Yang turned her head to look at Blake. “Can it be both?”

The corners of Blake’s lips turned upwards somewhat. “Yes,” she said, “I suppose. I mean, I don’t see why not.”

Yang smiled briefly. “So that’s one part,” she said, “but the other part … the other part of me gets why Uncle Qrow didn’t want either of us to know anything about this, and it doesn’t envy the fact that this is your life now. How do you feel about this? The fact that you’re committed to this, locked into it?”

“I’m not sure that I’m locked into anything,” Blake replied. “It’s not like I’ve sold my soul to anyone. If I want to, I can always walk away.”

“Like Raven?”

“I was going to say 'like your father,'” Blake said. “He’s a teacher, isn’t he?”

Yang nodded. “He teaches Elementary Plant Science at Signal Combat School.”

“'Plant Science'?”

“Yeah,” Yang said, “what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Blake said. “I just would have expected you to say that he taught combat or something.”

Yang chuckled. “Nah, Dad couldn’t teach any fighting style other than his own, which wouldn’t be great for any teacher but especially not one who doesn’t even bother with weapons. He taught me how to fight, but he couldn’t even teach Ruby, let alone other people’s kids.”

“He taught you, but you decided to use weapons?”

Yang shrugged. “Dad taught me to hit hard and hit fast, so I figured why not give myself an edge to let myself hit extra hard? And then, when I was thinking about how I might do that, strapping a pair of guns to my wrists seemed like a pretty obvious way to do it. Plus, it would let me hit anything that tried to stay out of reach of my fists, you know?”

“No, I get the logic behind it,” Blake said. “Just like I get why you feel the way you do. It’s … it’s a lot.”

“But you decided to get involved anyway,” Yang said. “You say that you can always quit later, but right now, you decided to jump in.”

Blake was silent for a second. “I … I suppose I’ve always been the kind to jump in, feet first. Or head first. It’s just who I am; it seems I can’t see a hopeless battle without wanting to hurl myself into it. Not that I think this battle is hopeless. It … it’s difficult, but it’s been won before, for years.”

“You mean it hasn’t been lost.”

“In this kind of fight, isn’t not losing the same as winning?” asked Blake. “If we hold our ground, if we preserve life and the kingdoms and the relics, isn’t that the equivalent of a win? Yes, Salem can always try again later, but … it doesn’t mean she hasn’t been beaten in the here and now. And in the meantime, the world changes. It gets better, it moves forward. And that’s a different kind of victory, maybe even the kind that I’m more interested in.”

Yang nodded. “I guess I can see that. I mean, personally, I prefer victories where you can see that you’ve won, preferably because the other guy is a mess on the floor at your feet, but I can certainly see that. But … Blake, can I ask you something about this fight you’re a part of, that Ruby’s a part of, about the work that you do for Ozpin?”

“Sure,” Blake said, “since you seem to know so much already, I don’t see the real harm in telling you more, if you want to know.”

“Did you know that they did stuff like what they were planning to do to Pyrrha?” asked Yang. “Did you know that that was the kind of thing they were involved in, that you’d be involved in?”

“No!” Blake said, her voice rising to match the firmness in her tone. “No, I had no idea about the machine, or about the Fall Maiden — I wasn’t even told about the Maidens; I had to find out from Sunset and the others. I … I would never be a part of something like that, not to Pyrrha, not to anyone.”

“But you are a part of it,” Yang said. “Aren’t you?”

Blake shivered. “I … I suppose that’s difficult to argue with, no matter how much I might want to. Is this another moment that makes you glad you’re not involved?”

“Is it better to stand on the sidelines while something awful happens?”

“It might not be better than standing on the inside while something awful happens, but it certainly makes you less morally culpable,” Blake murmured. “I’m not going to try and defend what Ozpin planned to do to Pyrrha; it was … indefensible. To sacrifice someone like that, and in that way, it … 'exploitation' hardly seems to begin to cover it.”

“You’re right,” Yang said. “I’m not involved. But my uncle is; he’s right there in the middle with Ozpin and General Ironwood, he knew all about this, and he was ready to go along with it. My own uncle, and he was going to do that to one of Ruby’s teammates, knowing the likely consequences. I just … I’m having a hard time remembering that the guy who was willing to do that is the same Uncle Qrow who got us tickets to the final of the Vytal Festival tournament.”

Blake said nothing. There was, she felt, very little that she could say, not knowing this Uncle Qrow at all, and with her not being a part of the family. Also holding her tongue was the fact that, well, Yang wasn’t exactly wrong, was she? It was, well, she had called it indefensible, and she had meant it. Blake would give her life for a just cause, if that was required — some might say that she would give her life even where it not required because some people worried too much, Rainbow Dash — but to give someone else’s life for the greater good … that was the logic of the slave owner, of Calliope Ferny and Jacques Schnee, of lives destroyed in the name of higher purpose.

Of course, that higher purpose was always decided for by someone other than the person doing the sacrifice.

Get into that machine yourself, Professor, before you ask Pyrrha to do so.

“The only thing that I can say,” Blake said, “is that Pyrrha is okay. Pyrrha is going to be okay because Sunset convinced Professor Ozpin not to go through with it, but to try something else. And that was only possible because Sunset was in Professor Ozpin’s confidence, because they … trusted one another. Imagine if Sunset had turned her nose up at working with Professor Ozpin because she didn’t trust him, because she had too many scruples, or for any other reason. Then Pyrrha would have had a stark choice, get in the machine or don’t, and there would have been no one to offer another way or convince Professor Ozpin to take it. Yes, standing aside means that you’re implicated in anything messy, but it’s only by being there, a part of something, that you can persuade the powers that be to maybe … not do it.”

“Is that why you’re going to Atlas?” Yang asked.

“That … is actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Blake admitted. “I turned in my transfer request with General Ironwood a little while ago. All of this stuff with Pyrrha, it … it drove it out of my mind a little bit, or I would have told you sooner.”

“Honestly, it’s not like I’m surprised,” Yang said. She turned to face Blake, a smile on her face and laughter in her voice. “Apart from anything else, the way the Atlesians lifted you up on their shoulders and carried you around the courtyard was kind of a clue.”

Blake covered her mouth as she chuckled. “Yeah, that was … they can get a little enthusiastic.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing,” Yang said. “You’re worth getting a little enthusiastic over.”

“That … is a very kind sentiment with no grounding, considering that we’ve done nothing together,” Blake said, “but thank you anyway, although I don’t feel as though I deserve thanks, all things considered. I feel … are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?” asked Yang. “What are you worried about?”

“The fact that I’m leaving you a team member down?” Blake suggested.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, me and Nora are both good enough to be worth one and a half huntresses each, at least,” Yang declared, pumping one fist as she said it. “And you were pretty clear up front when we took you in that you might be doing this, so it’s not like I can’t say that I wasn’t warned.” Yang sat down on her bed. “Do you know what the difference is between someone abandoning you, and someone walking their own path?”

Blake shook her head. “Not off the top of my head; fortunately, I have a feeling that you’re going to tell me.”

Yang smiled. “When someone abandons you, they don’t let you know ahead of time that they’re going to do it. They don’t say that they’re going to leave, they don’t explain why, they’re not up front that they have priorities and those priorities don’t include you. They don’t give you a choice between accepting them as they are, knowing that they’ll leave someday, or not. They’re just … gone one day, just like that, out of your life without a word, without a reason, leaving you to wonder what it was you did to push them away.” She got up off the bed and started to walk towards Blake. “Is this what you want?”

Blake nodded. “It is. I think in Atlas I can do the most good.”

“Then go for it!” Yang cried. “Live your life. Live your best life. Kick ass and knock ‘em dead.” She held out one hand. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to know you better, but if this is what you want, then who am I or Ren or Nora or anybody to stand in your way? It’s your life, and you can only live it once.”

Blake took her hand, feeling Yang’s fingers close about her with a firm grip. “Thank you for understanding. I … I’m sorry that we didn’t get more of a chance to be a real team too, but … this is where my road lies, I’m sure of it.”

“Even after everything you’ve been through there?” Yang said. “Everything you’ve seen?”

“Everything I’ve seen has convinced me that Atlas needs good people to do good,” Blake said. “It’s too important, and too powerful, to be left to the likes of Jacques Schnee or Calliope Ferny. There’s so much good that can be done in Atlas, so much that can be done with the power of Atlas … but only if we put ourselves out there and fight for it, only if we work within the system. Otherwise, it’s just like I said, we might have clean consciences, but that won’t stop these things from happening. I’m not going to walk away, not when I can stay and fight.”

Yang grinned. “And with that attitude, I’m sure you’ll go far.”

“I hope so,” Blake replied. “Plus … the people in Atlas make it worth sticking around for.”

“Well, that’s always a welcome bonus,” Yang agreed. Her face fell, the smile vanishing, her expression becoming more serious. “Have you told Sun yet?”

Blake hesitated for a moment, looking away from Yang. “No. No, I haven’t.”

Yang let go of Blake’s hand as her own hand fell down by her sound. “Okay, now that does annoy me, a lot more than the fact that you’re leaving this team. I told you the difference between abandoning someone and walking your own path; well, you’re abandoning Sun, and he deserves better.” She paused. “You know he really cares about you, but … you didn’t call him, you didn’t even text, he’s been here all on his own, and … do you know what’s been going on here since the Breach, while you’ve been gone?”

“You mean … the fact that people are turning against Atlas?”

“And the faunus,” Yang said. “I don’t think that Sun’s ever seen anything like it before; growing up in Vacuo, he’s been pretty sheltered from the whole thing. And then this, and the news from Atlas about the SDC … he’s taken it hard.”

Blake frowned. “How hard?”

“Talking about how the White Fang might not have completely the wrong idea hard,” Yang explained. “And he’s had no one that he can talk to about it because you left, and you haven’t tried to keep or get in touch with him at all. Did you even think about him at all when you were up in Atlas? Do you even care about him at all?”

There was a knock on the door that prevented Blake from responding.

“Hold that thought,” Yang said as she turned around and marched over to the door, her footsteps heavy upon the dorm room floor.

She flung the door open to reveal Sun on the other side.

“Hey, Sun!” Yang cried. “Speak of the beowolf.”

“Hey, Yang,” Sun said. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just on my way to carry on planning the big parade. Blake and I were just talking before I left.”

“Blake!” Sun cried — actually, no, crying was a bit too quiet for what he did — he yelled her name and stuck his head around the door to look at her. “Hey, Blake,” he repeated. “It’s … that is … I was hoping we could talk.”

“Be my guest,” Yang said, with almost inappropriate enthusiasm. “Like I said, I was just leaving.”

She grabbed Sun by the scruff of the neck and half dragged, half threw him into the YRBN dorm room and out of the corridor. He stumbled in, looking for a moment as though he was about to stumble so far in that he smacked straight into the window.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Yang declared cheerily, as she walked out of the room without another word, slamming the door shut loudly behind her.

I take your point, Yang, Blake thought.

She did need to have this conversation, however awkward it might be — and it did have the potential to turn awkward in a whole host of ways, if what Yang had said was true — because … because Yang was absolutely right. She had left Sun behind, and she was abandoning him, and she should have called, or if she wasn’t going to call, then she should have made that clear to him because … because he deserved better. He deserved better than someone who … someone who didn’t even take him for granted because the truth was that she didn’t even do that. If she had taken him for granted, then she would have come to find him when she got back, expecting him to be there waiting for her, but she hadn’t done that. She hadn’t even done that. She wasn’t taking him for granted, she was … she was acting like she didn’t care whether he waited or not because he didn’t matter to her.

Sun deserved better than that.

He deserved better than that because he was a really nice guy, because he was sweet and kind and funny and … and the truth was that Blake wasn’t sure if that was enough for her. The other thing that Yang had gotten right, one of many things that Yang had gotten right, was that Blake was on a path. She was on a journey. She had chosen her road, and she would walk it to the end. And that path … Blake wasn’t sure how Sun fit into that path, that path that led to Atlas, up through the ranks to power and control. That wasn’t what Sun wanted; she wasn’t sure what Sun wanted; Blake wasn’t sure if Sun was sure what Sun wanted.

But Blake … Blake couldn’t stop for him. She had to move forward, even if that meant walking alone.

But Yang was right, she should have told him that.

She did not tell him that, though. With something like this … she had no idea where to start.

And so the silence lingered in the room, the two of them not quite looking for one another.

“Hey,” Sun said, scratching the back of his neck with one hand.

“Hey,” Blake murmured, looking down at the floor.

Sun hesitated for a moment, before he said, “It’s good to see you again. You look well.”

“Thank you,” Blake said softly. “So do you.”

“Yeah, well,” Sun replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Blake closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Sun. I should have called, or texted, or I should have done something, and if I wasn’t going to do that, then I should have told you that I wasn’t, but I didn’t and I—”

“It’s fine,” Sun said.

“No, it isn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Sun repeated, his voice calm, not rising. “I … I talked to Rainbow Dash earlier, and she reminded me about Adam. As much as he seemed like a total creep to me, you … you loved him, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Blake whispered. “Or at least, I thought I did.”

“And then … then you had to … and then you—”

“Saw him die?” Blake suggested.

“Yeeeeeeah,” Sun said. “That. I guess that … that would … you went through a lot. And then you went to Atlas, and you went through a whole lot there, too.”

“I … suppose you could say that,” Blake replied. “I … Yang said … how are you doing, with the news from Atlas, with what’s been going on in Vale?”

Sun didn’t answer right away. Rather, he turned his back on her, walking towards Team YRBN’s bathroom. His monkey tail was drooped down behind him, trailing along the floor, not moving at all as though it had gone limp.

He reached the bathroom door, but instead of walking through it, he put his hands on the frame on either side of the door, leaning against it, back bending as his head bowed down.

“I feel like I’ve been a kid this whole time,” he said. “Like a kid, or asleep.”

“Because you’d never experienced anything like this before?” Blake asked.

“Because I didn’t even think it was possible,” Sun replied. “That faunus could be treated like that, that people could think like that, do that kind of thing. First the stuff in Vale, and then what you found in Atlas. Can I ask you something?”

“Are you going to ask me how I can wear an Atlas uniform?” Blake asked.

“Yes!” Sun said loudly. “Doesn’t it make you angry, what happened? I mean, you used to be with the White Fang—”

“When I first met you, you didn’t have a good word to say about the White Fang,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was before,” Sun said. “I mean, even Rainbow admits the White Fang aren’t exactly wrong.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Rainbow said that?”

“Rainbow said that the White Fang are right that the faunus are discriminated against, they just have no idea what to do about it,” Sun explained. “Is that what you think? Is that why you’re going to Atlas?”

“I’m going to Atlas for a lot of reasons,” Blake said. “I’m going because nonviolent protest didn’t work; and violent terrorism hasn’t worked and is immoral to go along with it; so why not try working within the system, being there where it counts, being in the room where it happens? I’m going because I have the right to go, because I’m a person, and faunus or not, I have as much right to wear the uniform of Atlas as anyone. I’m going because we can’t stand apart, or we’ll just encourage people to treat us differently. I’m going because I think that I can make a difference there, with the friends and connections I’ve made, with the things that I’ve done.

“And I’m going because … because it’s wonderful.” Blake said. “You should see it, Sun, it’s … it’s the most wonderful sight you’ve ever seen in your life, a city in the clouds, a shining city, a light in the sky, a testament to ingenuity and will, a … it’s marvellous, in every sense, it is a marvel, it’s … it’s amazing, and the people who live there — Rainbow’s friends, but also Weiss, who I got to know better while was in Atlas —I … I’ve never been anywhere else that made me feel quite like that.”

“Even with all its problems?” asked Sun.

Blake hesitated. “Atlas does have problems,” she admitted. “Great problems. But it has such great capacity too, and great virtues besides, and that gives me hope that the problems can be solved, and I want to be a part of that.”

“You want to be in the arena,” Sun said.

Blake nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose you could put it that way.”

Now it was Sun’s turn to nod. “I … I get where you’re coming from. I get it. I don’t agree with you, but I understand why you want this, and I believe that you think you’re doing the right thing.”

“But you don’t agree with me,” Blake repeated in a murmur.

“No,” Sun said. “Now, I admit that I only found out about all of these problems like a week ago or something, and I haven’t thought about them as long as you, but … these problems, they’re not in Atlas, are they? They’re in Mantle?”

“And Low Town.”

“But on the ground, not in the clouds.”

“That’s right,” Blake said quietly.

“Then isn’t there a danger that you’ll go to Atlas, this wonderful place up in the clouds, and you’ll forget all about the problems down below, because you can’t see them anymore?” asked Sun. “Isn’t that what everyone else does? Isn’t that why the problems were allowed to keep going for so long?”

“That … you might have a point,” Blake admitted. “But I won’t let that happen to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“What would you have me do instead?” Blake asked.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Sun said quickly. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t do it. You should. It’s what you want. It’s just not something that I could ever do, put on a uniform like that, take orders—”

“It’s not just taking orders,” Blake said. “It’s about being able to talk to the person who is giving the orders, and maybe talk them out of the bad ones. Atlas is going to exist whether I’m there or not. The difference is that, while I’m there, I can make a difference instead of decrying things from the outside.”

“Like the White Fang?”

“Well, if decrying was all the White Fang did, that would actually be an improvement,” muttered Blake.

Sun snorted. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He paused. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t do what you want. I would never do that. You know what you want. You know what you want, and you're striding towards it; that … that’s pretty incredible, to be honest. It puts me in awe of you.”

Blake made a sort of gasping sound of disbelief. “I’m not that—”

“How many people our age know what they want to do and be and achieve with so much certainty as you?” Sun asked. “I didn’t, I…”

He scratched at the back of his neck again, and his tail appeared to perk up a little bit, rising up off the floor, twitching slightly from side to side. “It’s funny, you know; this year, I’ve been asking for advice on how to get closer to you, how to … how to close the gap between us because … because the truth is that I’ve always felt, I’ve always known, that I cared more about you than … than you—”

“That’s not—”

“Let me finish,” Sun said. “Please.”

Blake swallowed. “Of course,” she murmured. “Go on.”

Sun nodded. He paused for a moment or two. “I asked Sunset, and she told me that I ought to devote myself wholly to you like I was your servant or something.”

“I’m not sure I’d take Sunset’s romantic advice,” Blake said dryly.

Sun grinned. “And then I talked to Jaune, and he told me not to take that advice either, but to give you some space, not to bug you, not to make you think that I was obsessed. Only, I did that, and it didn’t really seem to help. Not the way I wanted it to anyway. And then, most recently, I spoke to Rainbow Dash, and she helped me to get it. You’ve known for a long time what you wanted, where you were going, and you’ve marched towards it like you weren’t gonna let anyone stand in your way, and that awed me, and it impressed me, and it made me think you were awesome, but what I should have done was let it inspire me, because the truth is … the truth is that you were walking towards your goal, and I wasn’t going anywhere at all, so if it felt like you were leaving me behind … who did I have to blame but myself?”

“Please tell me Rainbow didn’t tell you to blame yourself,” Blake said. “Because you don’t need to blame yourself for my issues, and if she did say that, then I will—”

“No, no, no, she didn’t say that; Rainbow said that I needed to work out who I was and what I wanted to be,” Sun said. “The other stuff, I managed to work out all on my own.”

“Then you worked it out wrong,” Blake said.

“Did I?” Sun asked.

“You…” Blake trailed off. “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I have known what I wanted, and I have aimed to get it. And I can’t … I can’t stop. I can’t turn away.”

“No,” Sun said. “I know. That’s why I’ve thought about it, and I have decided that I am going to move to Mantle.”

Blake blinked. “Come again.”

“I’m moving to Mantle,” Sun repeated.

“I heard you,” Blake said, “but I don’t understand.”

“You think that you can change the world from Atlas,” Sun said. “And that’s great, that’s your goal, and maybe you’ll do it. I’m sure that you’ll do it. But in the meantime, all the problems are in Mantle, down below, and while you’ve solved some of them, you can’t solve all of them from up there in Atlas, at least not right away.” Sun paused. “I’m not you. I don’t have a vision for a better world, I don’t have a grand plan, I don’t have the charisma that makes people want to help me, that makes all the Atlas students want to carry me around—”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” Sun said, a smile breaking out across his face to make it brighter. “The point is that I’m not you. I’m not the kind of guy who can rise amongst the clouds. But I do know that people ought to treat each other well, that people ought to be safe, that they deserve to feel safe, to be safe, to know that someone cares about them and their problems … and I can be that guy, down in Mantle. Like you, like Rainbow said, it’s not the … it’s not the guy moaning who counts, talking about how awful things are, how awful Mantle is, it’s the guy who is willing to get stuck in and try to fix things, or at least stop them from getting worse. I can be that guy, down there, on the ground, and maybe … maybe while I’m down there, I can … keep you tethered, so that you don’t float away and forget all about us down below.”

Blake stared at him. That was not what she had expected him to say. That was not at all what she had expected him to say. She would never have expected Sun to say anything like that. It was unlike him.

And at the same time, it was completely like him. Yes, he’d never shown much interest in faunus rights before, but they’d met because he’d seen her, this complete stranger, someone he didn’t know, someone he had never spoken to before, and decided that she needed help, and he was going to help her. That was the kind of person he was, someone who saw those in need and jumped in.

“You realise what you’ll be giving up,” Blake said, “Haven, Neptune, your team—”

“Half my team hates me, and Neptune … yeah, it’ll be a pain to miss Neptune, but we can still call, right? And besides, sometimes, you have to give things up to do the right thing, right?”

Of course, that was also the kind of person he was, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to leave what he knew behind if that was what was required.

“And your schooling?” Blake asked. “You’ll never get licensed.”

“So?” Sun asked. “I can still help whether I’ve got a piece of paper or not.”

Well, there was the question of how legal his help would be without a license, but if he actually went through with this — and Blake had little doubt that he would go through with this — then perhaps she could pull some strings to get him licensed without having to graduate from an academy.

“You’re being very humble about the fact that you’re giving up everything for a city you don’t know and have never been to,” Blake told him.

“I’m giving up some stuff that doesn’t matter for a place that needs all the help it can get,” Sun replied.

“You don’t need to downplay it,” Blake told him. “What you’re proposing is so very … noble. It’s incredible, really.” She took a step towards him. “You are incredible.”

“You’ve inspired me.”

“No,” Blake said. “No, I can’t take any credit for this. None at all. This is all you.”

She stared at him. He had always been handsome and fair to look on, but now … now, it was like she was seeing him, if not for the first time, then in a whole new light, as though the clouds had parted to reveal the sun behind. She felt as though she were seeing him now not as a boy, but as a man, a man of conviction, ready to fight the good fight.

Of course, that man had always been there, but now … now, he had blossomed.

“What you’re doing,” she said, “the path you’ve chosen is as worthy as mine at least, as worthy as any student in Atlas Academy, maybe more, for you’ll be down there in the danger even as we’re still safe in school. You are … you’re so many virtues I could list that I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just say … I’ll just say that Atlas and Mantle aren’t so far away. Maybe I could fly down from the clouds to visit you on the ground, once in a while.”

She reached out towards him, but did not take his hands. Her ears drooped downwards in nervous anticipation. “If … if you’d like that.”

Sun stared at her, his blue eyes fixed on hers. He took a step closer to her. “You … you mean that?”

“I do,” Blake replied. “We … we may be walking on different roads, but they lie … our paths lie in parallel, and so I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t … reach out towards one another.”

She took his hands, and he did not protest, not even as she pulled them towards one another.

“And so,” Blake said, “even though I don’t deserve it, I’m asking you if … I’m asking you to reach back.”

Sun did not speak. He did not say a single word.

Instead, he surged forwards, gripping Blake’s hands as he kissed her fully on the lips.

And that was all the response that Blake required.

Amber (Rewritten)

Amber

“Sunset,” Twilight said, “I’m a little concerned about this.”

Sunset looked at her. They were down in the vault, a camping light illuminating their table in the darkness of the underground chamber. The pale light of Amber’s pod glowed in the shadows not too far away, beseeching and bewitching in equal measure. Soon — tomorrow, in fact — that pod would become unnecessary, for tomorrow, they were going to bring Amber round.

But tonight, apparently, Twilight had doubts.

“No offence, Twilight,” Sunset said, “but isn’t it a little late for that?”

“Probably,” Twilight conceded, “but when you first suggested this, I was just relieved that nobody would have to … you know, with the aura transfer, that no one would … and then … I just get so worked up and focussed on a project, you know? But now that we’re ready, now that we’re about to do this … I’m a little worried.”

“By what?”

“What’s going to happen if, when, we pull this off,” Twilight said.

Sunset frowned. “That’s what you’re worried about? Not the actual hard part, but what comes after?”

“What does come after?”

Sunset shrugged. “Amber wakes up. We have a Fall Maiden again.” And then we have to hunt down Cinder so that both halves of the Fall Maiden’s power are reunited in Amber.

Cinder, even if you did turn over a new leaf right this instant, I’m not sure that I could save you. Is it not inevitable that out of you and Amber, one or the other must die?

Somehow, she doubted that those particular misgivings of hers were the same as whatever was plaguing Twilight’s mind at this moment.

“Sure,” Twilight murmured. “Amber wakes up. But what … what will she be when she wakes up?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean her aura has been ripped in half; goodness knows what that’s done to her actual soul,” Twilight said. She had a large, old, leather-bound book sitting on the desk in front of her. She turned it around and pushed it closer to Sunset. “Aura is a reflection of the soul, yes?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a metaphor that Clover returns to time and time again, often using some additional detail,” Twilight said. “As she puts it, the difference between auras and souls can be explained using the idea of the distorted mirror, where different panes of glass can produce radically altered reflections. Like funhouse mirrors, except they didn’t have funhouses in Clover’s time, so she doesn’t say exactly that, but that’s certainly the general idea. Jaune’s aura is huge not because he has a huge soul, so to speak — that would be kind of ridiculous — his aura is so much huger than anyone else’s because his mirror is reflecting back his soul in such a way that it appears larger than it really is in the way that some mirrors can make you seem bigger or smaller than you really are.”

“That’s great, Twilight, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Sunset said. “Aura is not the actual soul; when our aura breaks or runs out, we’re not actually soulless beings in the interval until it comes back. What’s done to the mirror is not actually done to the thing reflected in the mirror. If you look into a cracked mirror, it doesn’t actually mean that your face is in pieces.”

“But there’s a reason simple aura damage doesn’t kill us,” Twilight said. “If Amber had just taken a couple of bad hits to her aura, then she wouldn’t be dying right now. Her aura isn’t just damaged; it’s disintegrating.”

“Dark magic.”

“But what if there is some effect on her actual soul?” Twilight asked. “What if part of the reason her aura can’t regenerate properly is because there’s less for the mirror to reflect than there used to be?”

Sunset leaned back in her chair. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s accept that for the moment. What about it? She’ll still be alive, and the alternative is that she dies one way or the other.”

“I know,” Twilight said. “I’m just worried that … what she’s been through is so completely unprecedented even before we add in the trauma of Cinder’s attack that led to her being in this condition. We don’t know what effects this will have on her: emotionally, spiritually, mentally.”

“But once again, I repeat that she’ll be alive,” Sunset said. “She might have some problems, and I’ll accept that she’s probably been through a lot, but whatever issues she might have, we can help her get through them. Celestia knows that everyone has helped me get through my issues.”

“Is it the same thing?”

“I don’t know, but why can’t it be?” Sunset replied. “She’ll be alive, Twi. In every other scenario, Amber dies in some way and probably so does Pyrrha. We don’t know exactly what she’ll be like … but we’ll be able to find out, and that’s not something that we can say in any other option, is it?”

Twilight hesitated. “No,” she said. “And I wasn’t actually suggesting not doing this, I just … I’m worried.”

Sunset patted her on the shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” she said. “We’re going to save Amber, and then … whatever comes next, we’ll handle it. Like we handle everything else.”

Twilight smiled. “You’re really good at that, aren’t you?”

“At what?”

“Acting like you haven’t a doubt.”

“I don’t have any doubts.”

Twilight chuckled. “Yeah, sure.” She glanced over her shoulder at Amber. “I don’t want to be right about this. I want her to come out of that pod every inch the person she went in. Do you really think we can do it?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I think we can. I think we have to. We don’t have a choice, for our friends’ sake.”

Twilight nodded. “For our friends’ sake.” She looked back at Sunset. “It’s funny; if this works, we’re going to make medical history, and nobody will ever know.”

“Nobody will know half the things we do; that’s what makes this so infuriating,” Sunset said. “Saving the world, and nobody knows we’re doing it. No glory, no parades, just … silent duty. But we’re doing good, so…” She stood up. “You should get some rest, Twilight. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

“And you’ve got the biggest day of all; why don’t you rest yourself?”

“I plan to,” Sunset said. “I just … I need to talk to someone while I’m doing it.”

In Sunset’s dream, she was a unicorn. A unicorn sitting on one of the many balconies of the palace in Canterlot, looking out over the many sparkling lights of the city at night as they seemed to reflect the myriad lights in the night sky above.

“The irony is not lost on me,” Luna said as she sat down beside Sunset, “that I rebelled against Celestia because I felt as though nopony would ever love the night as much as they adored the day, when if I had only had a little patience, I might have been free to see them do so.”

“Could you have borne to sit still and endure for so long, Princess?” Sunset asked.

Luna was silent a moment. “No.”

Sunset nodded. “Me neither.”

Luna glanced down at her. “You dream of home.”

“I dream of Canterlot,” Sunset corrected her. “Beacon is my home now. Sapphire is my home.”

“And yet you dream of Canterlot.”

“I dream of peace,” Sunset said. “I dream of a life free from fear and toil and turmoil. I dream of peace, for myself and for my heart’s closest. Am I ready, Princess Luna?”

“No,” Luna said. “But to make you ready would have required far more time than you have. You are as ready as your circumstances allow. You will have to muddle through.”

“I told Twilight that I would succeed because I couldn’t afford to fail.”

“As good a reason as any to succeed, I suppose.”

Sunset looked up at her. “Be honest, Princess, what do you rate my chances?”

Luna put one wing around Sunset. “You are inexperienced in this, it’s true,” she said. “And you could have perhaps have made more use of your powers in that world, but I would not have agreed to aid you this far, not even for Celestia’s urging, if I did not think you had a chance. You have made promises that must be kept.”

Sunset nodded in acknowledgement of that. “If I let Professor Ozpin down, I don’t know what he’ll be driven to do next … and I won’t be able to stop him a second time.”

“As you said, you cannot afford to fail.”

Sunset was silent a while. “Twilight — the Twilight in my world — is worried that Amber will come out of this … changed. Different.”

“She is probably right.”

“She is?” Sunset asked. “What makes you say that?”

“Because dreams matter,” Luna said. “What we see in our dreams affects us when we wake; although the dream may disappear, its effects will linger on in the back of the minds, or at their forefront in the case of a particularly vivid dream. What dreams this Amber has been having … I doubt they have been pleasant.”

Sunset tapped her hooves on the balcony. “Any last minute advice?”

“Every dream is different, as every dreamer is,” Luna said. “There is nothing specific I could say to benefit you, I fear.”

“I suppose you’ve helped me enough,” Sunset said. “Thank you, Princess, for everything.”

“It is a difficult thing that you have chosen to undertake, Sunset Shimmer,” Luna said, “but it is a noble thing, and for that reason alone, I wish you success in your venture tomorrow.”

Sunset smiled tightly.

“But something else troubles you,” Luna said. It was a statement, not a question.

“When Amber comes around, if I can bring her round,” Sunset said, “we’ll have to kill Cinder.”

“Your friend.”

“In a … manner of speaking,” Sunset murmured.

“Is there any way such a thing can be avoided?”

“If there is, I don’t see it.”

“Yet,” Luna said.

“Princess?”

“It took you a little time to see that there was a way in which another dire fate for one of your friends could be avoided, did it not?” Luna reminded her. “Focus on the task before you for now. Focus on Amber. Focus on saving her life. Then, when that is done, you can bend yourself to the task of saving Cinder’s.”

“If she even wants to be saved,” Sunset murmured. “My friends would probably tell me to give up on her.”

“No offence to your friends, but I have a somewhat different perspective,” Luna said, “and I for one am very glad that Celestia did not give up on me.”

Sunset smiled. “Then I won’t give up either. I’ll find a way … to save everyone.” She got up onto her hooves. “Thank you for everything, Princess. Wish me luck tomorrow.”

“Never stop reaching out, Sunset Shimmer,” Luna said. “You may not grasp all things you reach for, but the moment you cease to reach out … is the moment all things will become beyond you.”

The vault was crowded.

Everyone was there — absolutely everyone — standing nearer or further away from Amber as they waited for Sunset’s effort to begin: Qrow was lounging against the wall with his arms folded across his chest; Professor Ozpin was stood in the centre of the walkway, leaning heavily upon his cane, looking as though he might collapse from anticipation at any moment; Professor Goodwitch stood beside him, hands wrapped around her riding crop, her face impassive; General Ironwood stood at ease, with his hands clasped behind him, a little further away from Amber and from Professor Ozpin than the rest; Ruby and Penny, who had nothing particular to do with this but were here anyway, stood unobtrusively on the left-hand side of the vault; Ciel was helping Twilight with the last-minute preparations to the ice bath and all of her additional equipment that they would need to make a success of this; Rainbow Dash stood just a little beyond them, trying not to look at Amber but with her gaze seeming to be inexorably drawn back towards her like waves drawn back towards the shore; Jaune stood by, looking ready but nervous at the same time; Pyrrha put one arm upon his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at him; Sunset herself stood in front of Amber, looking upwards at the girl in the glass box. The girl they hoped to save.

I don’t intend for your soul to go anywhere.

Qrow took a drink from his flask. “I still can’t believe that you’re letting them go through with this, Oz.”

“If it saves Amber—” Professor Goodwitch began.

“Pretty big ‘if,’” Qrow said.

“I thought you didn’t like my machine, Qrow,” General Ironwood said. “Shouldn’t you be glad we don’t have to use it?”

“I don’t like your machine one bit,” Qrow growled. “That doesn’t mean that I believe in miracles.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should get out of here before I screw things up for her.”

“Not everything that goes awry is your fault, Qrow,” Ozpin said patiently. “Amber’s condition certainly is not. And I believe that the success or failure of Miss Shimmer’s plan rests on far more than whether you are present or not.”

“If you’re sure,” Qrow said. He took another drink. “But you never answered my question: what made you decide to put all your chips on this?”

“A conversation with a lady,” Professor Ozpin said. “One who gave me a renewed appreciation for the virtues of hope and faith.”

“Is that why you won’t explain exactly how all of this is supposed to work?” General Ironwood said. “Or is that you can’t?”

“So long as I can save Amber, General,” Sunset said, “does it really matter to you how I did it?”

She had no wish to divulge Equestria and the source of her magic to him. He seemed a decent enough man, and Rainbow and Twilight both liked and respected him, but he was an Atlesian soldier first and foremost, and he might have … notions of how to employ her and her powers that did not necessarily accord with Sunset’s own or with the desires of Princess Celestia.

“Trust me, General,” Twilight said. “If anything can work, this will.”

General Ironwood nodded. “Very well, Twilight. I’ll trust you.”

“When will you be ready to begin, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“Twilight?” Sunset murmured, glancing in her direction.

Twilight looked down at the white, sterile ice bath that she had, with some difficulty, erected in the vault. It was filled with water and ice, obviously, and ready to receive Amber. An IV drip and some additional monitors stood nearby.

“I think…” she began. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Jaune?”

Jaune raised his hands. They glowed briefly with the light of his semblance. “Ready.”

Sunset looked down at her hand. She had taken her glove off for the first time in a while. She’d had to if she was going to use her semblance. She clenched her hand into a fist.

This better work. For Pyrrha’s sake, and Amber’s.

“Then I’m ready too, Professor,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Right,” Twilight. “Ciel, unseal the casket.”

Ciel nodded briskly and strode to the very back of the vault, to where Amber slept in her enchanted sleep, where the soft blue light of her casket cast its glow upon the space around — and upon Ciel, too; she was framed as if in moonlight, or underwater, rendered with a touch of the ethereal by her proximity to the sleeping Maiden.

Ciel stopped in front of her, looking up at Amber, and then down, clasping her hands together over her chest, her eyes closed in prayer.

Nobody interrupted her, nobody chivvied her along; they let her pray, silently, lips moving without sound. If ever there was a moment for prayer, it was surely now.

And then Ciel walked past Amber to the controls located beside and just behind the sealed pod. Her nimble fingers began to tap swiftly upon the screen. “Unsealing … now.”

The seals popped open, and white smoke began to leak from the edges of the glass-and-metal pod. Slowly, as if the machine itself possessed a sense of the gravity of the occasion, the lid of the pod began to elevate upwards, inch by inch, until it stood at a right angle to the pod itself, and Amber was exposed to the world.

The machines started to beep in alarm.

“Pyrrha,” Sunset said, a single word, conveying all that needed to be said.

Pyrrha was already at the pod and, with great gentleness and even greater care, picked up Amber and held her like a bride upon her wedding day as she carried her towards the ice bath. The Fall Maiden seemed small and delicate in Pyrrha’s arms, a fragile thing, slender and lithe of limb, so young.

So young to bear this burden.

The blue light from her pod, what light there was in this shadowy chamber, cast the scars upon her face into sharp relief, the wounds that Cinder had inflicted on her seeming to cast shadows of their own.

Pyrrha’s face was grave, and her eyes were fixed on Amber as she lowered her into the ice bath as gently as though she were a babe.

The alarms that were being sounded began to quiet, although they did not silence as Twilight attached wired-up pads to Amber’s arms. “The ice bath is slowing her metabolism, as expected. Applying the IV.”

She jabbed a needle into Amber’s elbow, said needle being in turn attached to a bag of light blue fluid.

“That should help too,” Twilight said. “I’ll keep monitoring, but…” She looked at Sunset. “It’s time.”

Sunset walked forwards. Pyrrha had laid Amber in the bath with her head closest to Sunset, and for a moment, Sunset simply looked down on her, floating amidst the icy water, her brown hair spreading out all around her face like a halo. With her eyes closed and her expression passive in repose, she seemed as much dead as asleep: like a drowned girl floating in the water.

Sunset did not have time to look long. She only had time to act. She raised her hand.

“Time to wake up,” she said as she placed her palm flat on Amber’s forehead.

Sunset gasped as her eyes began to glow pure white. She felt the heady rush of energy running through her arm as her under-utilised semblance sprang to life and then—

Thunder rolled in the skies above.

There was no lightning. There was no rain. There was nothing but the incessant rumbling of the thunder, growling on and on and producing no other effects but the sound, the sound in the boiling grey clouds up above, the constant pounding sound so loud it seemed as though it ought to shake the very world as the dark clouds consumed the sky.

Anger. Pain. Fear.

Those were the three emotions that Sunset felt. They were the only three emotions that she felt as she stood in the midst of a wood somewhere, with the thunder rolling on and on and the clouds growing ever darker above her. She felt the emotions that Amber was feeling, and Amber was feeling anger, pain, and fear.

The anger was … well, it wasn’t quite as bad as the sheer rage at everyone and everything coursing through Cinder, but it was coming pretty close. The fear made Sunset want to cower on her knees in terror, putting her head in her hands and screaming for Celestia; the pain, the pain, Sunset wanted to scratch at her face until the skin fell off to try and get the pain to stop, she wanted to throw herself into a fire just to stop the cold, she wanted to plunge into the deepest darkness where no light could reach anything to just make it stop.

Sunset’s breathing was coming shallow now, shallow and quick, and she had to fight to steady it. She had to fight. She had been prepared for something like this. Not for the deluge of terror and hatred mingling in Amber’s soul — Twilight might have had more of a point than Sunset had initially credited — but for the need to protect herself from Amber’s emotions. That was the risk with Sunset’s semblance, that had always been the risk from the moment that it had activated and Sunset had been deluged with Cinder’s fury. She had to block them out. She had to remain herself if she was to see this through.

That was part of what she and Luna had been practicing at nights. She had to focus on things that were hers, things that Amber would have no knowledge of, things that would counteract the fear and pain and anger that dominated Amber’s mindscape. As the thunder howled, Sunset stood straight. She closed her eyes, armouring her soul in her own experiences against Amber’s feelings and the things that had befallen her: Ruby falling asleep curled up against Sunset in their dorm room after the field trip to Forever Fall; Pyrrha recognising her as an equal on the rooftop after their duel; the four of them getting their picture taken with Fluffy in Benni Havens’; Celestia forgiving her for all her wrongs and welcoming her back into the embrace of her affection; Blake reaching out to her for help; dancing with Flash and ending things the right way; all her friends; the silver light in Ruby’s soul driving away Cinder’s darkness as that beautiful music played all around her.

Though they could not be with her here, they were all with her nevertheless, standing guard over the integrity of her own thoughts as Sunset, though she could feel the beating of Amber’s feelings upon her soul like waves pounding at a sea wall, was able to keep her own feelings separate as she surveyed the world around her.

The clouds were not a part of any memory of Amber’s; there was no lightning emanating from the thunder, and beneath the dark clouds, the sunlight was falling brightly on the forest as though the clouds weren’t there, which they weren’t. This was a symptom of Amber’s troubles, a creation of her inner turmoil. Wherever this was, whenever this was, the day itself had been beautiful.

Wherever this was, whenever this was. One of the downsides of putting up an emotional barrier between herself and Amber was that things Sunset would have known straight away were unclear to her now. She would have to keep her eyes open and try to work things out the old-fashioned way.

And also work out if this storm was a sign of the damage to Amber’s aura or simply a consequence of her having been through a lot. Sunset eyed it carefully. It didn’t look as she and Luna had discussed the damage to Amber’s soul appearing; according to Luna, it would take the form of tears in the world around her, reality itself being torn apart. This was not that. This was just a visible sign of Amber’s emotions clouding over everything else.

She strained her ears. Was that…? Sunset listened carefully. Yes, there it was, barely audible beneath the sound of the constantly rolling thunder, but she could hear someone singing. Not like the music in Ruby’s soul, but still beautiful. Whoever was singing had a lovely voice, for all that Sunset could barely hear it.

Although, as she strained to hear it so it became easier to hear, rising above the storm, or perhaps it was more true to say that the storm receded from her ears to let her better hear the singing. Whichever was true, Sunset followed the sound. It was not far; once she picked her way through the tall trees of this stout oak forest, she soon came to a ruined building with a dirt track leading to it from out of the trees.

It was not entirely clear to Sunset what kind of a building it was: it was square, with what looked like the remains of a tower at one end, built out of grey stone blocks, with buttresses and gargoyles decorating the exterior. It was almost all gone now, only a few crumbling remains and a single weather-worn gargoyle remaining of it. The singing was coming from within — as much as anything could be said to be within such a ruin — and so it was within that Sunset headed.

The floor was gone, replaced by the same grass that dominated without the ruin walls, but against the northern wall, there remained, though overgrown by vines and moss, a marble statue of a woman, swathed in a shawl, her hands clasped beatifically to her chest as she looked downwards to where people might have stood or knelt before her.

Right now, the statue was looking down at Amber; it was clearly she, for all that she had her back to Sunset, who was standing before the statue of the lady, standing in a patch of sunlight falling through a hole in the wall. And she was singing.

She was the source of that beautiful voice, standing mirroring the stance of the statue, with her head bowed and her hands clasped to her chest, singing so beautifully. Sunset wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard such a beautiful singing voice before. Had even Princess Celestia sang so sweetly?

Sunset tentatively lowered her emotional defences; there were still the thunderclouds overhead, there was still the same anger and pain, but there was happiness here too; it was faint beneath the fear and anger, but she could feel it. She could even feel love.

“Who are you?”

Sunset turned to see Amber standing behind her. She was dressed in clothes that, although rustic in style, were clearly tailored, with golden bangles hanging from her wrist. A quick glance confirmed that the singing Amber had not moved, and in any case, this Amber — the one who had just demanded to know who Sunset was — had scars criss-crossing her face. The real Amber, the present Amber, the comatose Amber trapped in her own mind.

“Who are you?” Amber demanded a second time. “I don’t remember you; you don’t belong here.” Her amber eyes widened. “Did she send you?”

Sunset raised her hands. “My name is Sunset Shimmer. I’m a huntress; Professor Ozpin—”

Amber screamed, and as she screamed, the thunder roared louder, loud enough to completely drown out the memory of her singing in the ruin, and as she shrieked in fury, she thrust out her hands, and Sunset was struck by an enormous gust of wind that knocked her off her feet, blowing her on her back along the grass.

“Get out of here!” Amber yelled. “You don’t belong here! I don’t want you here!”

Sunset picked herself up off the ground. “I know that you’ve been through a lot—”

“Go!” Amber screamed, and she hurled a second gust of wind at Sunset. But Sunset was prepared for it this time, and with a thought, she conjured up a shield that resisted Amber’s blast as though it were nothing at all.

“I’m here to help you, Amber,” Sunset said. “I know who you are, and I’m here to help. If you’ll just trust me, I can get you out of here.”

Amber shook her head, tears forming at the edges of her eyes as she retreated away from Sunset. “You can’t help me. Nobody can help me. Just … just get out of here before one of them finds me.”

“Who?” Sunset asked. “Who finds you?”

A shadow fell across the entrance to the ruin.

“Your voice is too lovely for the squirrels and the birds alone,” Professor Ozpin said as he walked through the crumbling archway that was all that remained of the entrance to this fallen place. He was smiling; in fact, he looked more at ease than Sunset had ever seen him. His cane was nowhere to be seen, and he walked with the vigour of a much younger man.

Amber — the Amber of memory, the past Amber — turned to look at him, her green cloak swirling around her. She smiled; she was younger in this memory but not so much younger, perhaps a little younger than Ruby.

“Uncle Ozpin,” she said, in a tone that was slightly exasperated, slightly teasing, and most full of joy and happiness. “I come up here so that no one can hear me.”

“And I’m telling you there is no need,” Professor Ozpin said. “You could sing at the greatest concert halls in Vale, and you would hold the crowds enraptured.”

Amber skipped across the grass towards him. “Does that mean you’ll talk to mom?” she asked. “Does that mean you’ll take me with you when you go?”

“Amber—”

“I want to see what’s out there, Uncle Oz,” Amber said. She clasped her hands behind her as she leaned a little sideways. “I want to see the world. I want to see your world, oh, brave new world.” She twirled in place, spreading her arms out around her like a dancer. “I want to see everything and everyone. I want to see where you go whenever you’re not here. There must be so much more out there than this.”

“No,” Amber — the other Amber, the present Amber, the soul of the wounded and unconscious Fall Maiden — cried, as she shook her head desperately. “No, you don’t. You really don’t. It’s dangerous out there, it isn’t worth it, just stay here.”

Professor Ozpin smiled fondly. “Maybe later, when you’re older.”

The Amber of memory pouted. “I’m fourteen years old; I’m not a child anymore.” She smiled. “How long can you stay?”

“Not long, I’m afraid,” Professor Ozpin said. “Duty calls.”

“When are you going to tell me what it is that you do when you’re not here?”

“When—”

“When I’m older,” Amber said with mock exasperation. She kissed Professor Ozpin on the cheek. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

“And I miss you—”

“No!” the Amber of the present yelled. “No! Don’t listen to him! Don’t trust him! He’s the reason, it’s all his fault, he made me this way!”

“What are you talking about?” Sunset demanded. “Professor Ozpin didn’t attack you—”

“He put this power inside me!” Amber cried. “That’s the reason they were hunting me, he’s the reason—” She stopped, eyes wide and filling with tears. She looked around, head darting this way and that like a rabbit. “No. No, no. They’ve found me. It’s coming.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stay away from me,” Amber cried as she fled into the forest and out of sight.

Sunset didn’t pursue. As important as it was to follow her, she had a feeling that a touch of whatever dark power Cinder had infected her with was about to make itself known.

Amber and Ozpin continued their conversation in memory. Sunset didn’t pay as much attention as she perhaps should have, but she was listening for the approach of darkness, and in any case, Professor Ozpin was being so fond and tender with Amber, so unusually so in her experience, that it seemed almost indecent to spy upon the particulars of their interactions as they walked away, arm in arm, headed towards wherever, somewhere else.

Sunset looked around the ruin. So, Amber had come here to practice her singing where nobody could hear. She could understand that; she’d had a secret place in the palace garden, an overgrown and abandoned place where nobody ever went, where she would sneak off to practice spells where nobody could see, so that nobody could see her screw up. And it didn’t matter how good you were or how unlikely you were to screw up: that fear of doing so, and of failing to live up to the expectations of the person who you wanted to impress more than anyone in the world, never left you.

Amber and Ozpin departed, blissfully unaware of the approach of the enormous beowolf that lumbered through the woods, snorting and snarling. It raised its head and roared up at the thundering sky, and then it began to swipe its claws left and right, and as it slashed seemingly the empty air, the empty air was scored and wounded, revealing darkness beneath and howling winds that began to gust at Sunset as they flooded through from out of the void, released by the damage that the metaphorical beowolf was inflicting.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sunset muttered, and she clicked her fingers.

Instantly, the beowolf was engulfed in fire, its whole black body burning, and the mental grimm howled in pain as the flames rippled up its body, consuming everything.

Sunset grinned. It was good to be able to do whatever she could imagine doing. She clapped her hands together, and the earth itself rose up to swallow the burning beowolf whole, crushing it to nothingness in a vice of inescapable pressure.

“One down,” Sunset thought. “Some more left to go.”

Now, she just had to deal with the wounds inflicted on Amber’s aura and soul.

Sunset raised both her hands, as the winds blowing in from the empty void beyond buffeted her jacket and blue her hair this way and that. She raised her hands and imagined severed pieces of metal being welded together; she imagined Jaune at the forge remaking his sword, melting the fragments together as the heat of the furnace turned the metal molten. Sunset thought of that as she raised her hands, and a wave like molten metal slid down the very wall of reality itself, closing the wounds the beowolf had inflicted as the walls of Amber’s memory were cleansed and closed and made whole once again.

“Amber?” Sunset called. “Amber, where are you?”

If Amber was still somewhere nearby, then she would hear Sunset, but if not, then Sunset thought it likely that she would be—

The sky darkened. The whole world darkened. But then it was filled with light again. Light after a fashion, at least. The world was grey, and it wasn’t just because of the storm clouds booming out Amber’s anger and her fear. The world was grey because it had been a grey day. But it was windy because Amber’s aura was falling apart.

Whatever this memory was, it had been destroyed. Sunset could just about make out Beacon Tower, the green lights burning in Ozpin’s office, and so the area around here must be Beacon, but it was hard to tell. There were rents and tears everywhere; the people walking through the courtyard were mere silhouettes devoid of features that had been robbed from Amber’s memories by the decay and the destruction. Tattered shreds of remembrance fluttered free, barely tethered to the tower at the centre of it all, the only thing that was holding it all together, and the wind howled even louder than the thunder as it pulled upon the threads to tear them all to pieces.

Sunset reached out and pulled back.

It was harder going this time; the force trying to destroy this memory was much greater than it had been, and what Sunset had to work with was so much less. She was lucky that she knew some of the details herself. She could give Amber some of her own memories of Beacon courtyard, of the school, of what lay around the tower, using her memories of what ought to go where and what this building looked like and where the statue was in relation to the dining hall, and she could wrench, by force of will, the memory together and reconstruct it not exactly in her own image but out of her perception. But only the superficials. She could expel the darkness, she could banish the void, she could weld the threads of Amber’s aura together until they became whole, she could even recreate Beacon from her own experiences of it, but as to what this memory had once been, what it meant to Amber, who had been there, for all of that, Sunset was powerless. The figures remained silhouettes at best; some of them were mere clumps of mist that happened to move like men. And all Sunset could feel was fear; if there were any other emotions associated with this memory, specific emotions, they were gone now.

“How did you do that?” Amber demanded, appearing in front of the statue of the huntsman and huntress. “I’ve never … all I can do is watch it all fall apart.”

“I may not be a Maiden, but I’m not without power,” Sunset explained. “I made it this far. I really can help you; I dealt with the—”

“Don’t say it; you’ll just draw more of them,” Amber cried. “I can’t … they try to find me. We have to be quiet.”

Sunset didn’t point out that Amber had been doing most of the screaming so far.

Amber looked around. “I … I don’t remember what this was. I just remember that I didn’t like it.”

“No?”

“No,” Amber repeated. “Oh, brave new world. So often I begged Uncle … I begged him to bring me here, and when I came … I hated it. The noise, the people. Oh, brave new world that has such people in it. Ozpin sent you? To bring me back?”

Sunset nodded. “That’s about it, yeah.”

Amber retreated a step. “He’ll always send people to bring me back. He’ll never let me alone, will he?”

Sunset shook her head. “Amber, I … I’m going to be honest with you. It’s not pretty, but it’s the truth. You’re dying. I can help you, but you have to trust me.”

“Why?” Amber demanded.

“'Why'?” Sunset repeated. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“At least the pain will stop,” Amber whispered.

Sunset hesitated. “We … we can help you with that too, once you wake up.“

“Why should I believe you?” Amber said. “Why should I believe anything you say? You work for Ozpin; you just want to take me back so that I can be his weapon. Well, I won’t! I won’t!” she yelled as she turned away, fleeing from Beacon courtyard and its shadowy and barely half-remembered denizens as she ran away into a different part of her soul.

Sunset gave chase. There was no beowolf to delay her this time, and she had already repaired the damage that Cinder had inflicted upon this part of Amber’s aura. So she pursued Amber, who ran and ran through memories and experiences, some of which flitted past in an instant as Amber and Sunset dashed through them, but other times, Sunset had to linger just a little, letting Amber open up a slight lead on her as she took in what Amber was running through, what her life had been.

She had been raised in a cabin in the woods, alone except for a woman named … named Merida, that was the name that she heard Ozpin calling her when he thought Amber had gone to bed one night. Merida. The name from Summer Rose’s diary, the girl that Team STRQ had brought to Beacon, with Auburn. Auburn, the Fall Maiden, had passed her powers on to Merida, and then Merida had raised Amber as her own daughter? Had Ozpin arranged that? Obviously, since he visited them often enough. He never stayed very long, it was rare for him to stay more than one or two nights, and then he would be gone again, usually for months before his next visit, but whenever he arrived, little Amber would run down the path towards the cottage gate shrieking in delight.

“Uncle Ozpin! Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?”

He had always brought her a present: a toy, a book, some new clothes; something from his travels, something from the wider world that he would tell her of but never let her see, no matter how much she begged him to.

She was raised that way, with no other contact with anybody but Merida, who was her mother in every way that really mattered except — probably — for the having physically given birth to Amber, and Professor Ozpin. Uncle Ozpin.

As much as it had felt wrong of her, indecent, intrusive on her part to watch Ozpin and Amber’s interactions in the ruin, there were times — as Amber ran from memory to memory, dashing through her memories of Professor Ozpin as though she wanted to stay away from them almost as much as she wanted to stay away from Sunset — when Sunset had to stop and watch because they were just so familiar to her: the way that Amber and Professor Ozpin would sit in front of the fire, drinking hot cocoa while Ozpin read to her; the way that he brought her a staff with a wind-dust crystal and taught her how to use it, so patient and so understanding with all of Amber’s difficulties, rewarding even the mildest accomplishment with effusive praise; the way that there was a lesson to be found in what seemed at first to be even the most casual of their interactions; the way that he cared about her, so solicitous, so patient; it was all so familiar to her.

She had been his faithful student, his little sunbeam.

Yes, they hadn’t lived together the way that Sunset and Celestia had, but she recognised all of this, right down to the way in which they had sat in front of the fire and drank hot chocolate in Celestia’s study, and Celestia would put one wing around Sunset, draping her soft feathers around her like a blanket. Amber sang so prettily; Celestia had insisted that Sunset learn music as well as magic because she wanted her to be a sophisticated gentlemare; Celestia had told Sunset that she was destined for great things, and Ozpin had told Amber the same.

They had both found in their tutors the parental affection that was otherwise missing from their lives.

Celestia told me that she could never sacrifice Twilight, not even to save the world, but Amber is your Twilight, Professor, or your Sunset, at least.

What kind of life have you had that you could bring yourself to sacrifice her to give her powers to Pyrrha?

After all, his interactions with Pyrrha weren’t anything like as deep or as devoted as what she was witnessing with Amber.

Sunset could recognise the anger now, the constant anger that was making it thunder in the skies over Amber’s memories. The fear was general, she was terrified, but the anger, the anger had direction: it was pointed towards Ozpin, and to anyone associated with him. Sunset could feel that because so much of it — the distrust, the feeling of being used, the feeling of being manipulated and thrown into the path of danger — felt so very, terribly familiar to her.

It was like Cinder all over again: the hardest emotions to keep out were the ones that chimed with the emotions that were there already, and though she had started to get over those feelings towards Professor Ozpin, the way that he had been willing to put Pyrrha’s soul in such extreme jeopardy had brought some latent hostility roaring to the fore, and now, Amber’s own feelings on the matter were calling out to Sunset’s emotions, pushing past the barriers like flood waters breaking through the levee, seeping in even as Sunset fought to keep them out.

Sunset pursued Amber, following where she led, through memories that showed her failing to kill a deer in the woods because she couldn’t bring herself to hurt it, at which point, Merida declared that she would eat no meat until she did, because there’d be no hypocrites in their house — from what Sunset could gather, Amber hadn’t had a bite of meat since.

She followed through memories that were beginning to tear and memories that were falling apart, and whenever she came to such a place, Sunset had to stop and repair the damage as best she could, killing whatever mental grimm infested the place and tying up the fluttering threads of Amber’s aura until it was intact once again. She couldn’t do anything about the existing damage to Amber’s memories: she couldn’t repopulate the people she had forgotten, or even the landscapes that Sunset herself didn’t remember. There was mist there instead, misty holes in Amber’s soul that served to plug the gaps and achieve a measure of coherence, but as for what it would actually mean for her … Sunset couldn’t exactly say. All she could say was that the memories that Amber fled through showed the sweetest maid who ever lived, an ingénue who had never known trouble or hardship or strife, who was completely ignorant of all the evils of the world, wholly innocent and absolutely untouched by them.

And yet now, she was consumed by anger and by fear, tormented by pain, in all her memories, the happiness and love that must have once been there was but a kind of distant echo now. Where love had once run deepest, a cancer spread.

Sunset pursued Amber into a memory of Cinder.

She couldn’t look away. Though her limbs were shaking, she couldn’t turn away. She had never seen Cinder like this before, so cruel, so vicious, so utterly without mercy. She knew, objectively, that Cinder was capable of these things — how could she have been ignorant of it? — but the face that she showed to Sunset, playful, teasing, ultimately honest and even trustworthy in a sense, all of that was gone from the Cinder who stood over a helpless Amber while Mercury and Lightning Dust held her pinioned between them. All of that was gone from the Cinder who produced some kind of bug grimm, which transformed into black slime while Amber begged for mercy; all of that was gone from the Cinder who showed no mercy as she flung the slime into Amber’s face and began to rip her aura apart so that she could take the power of the Fall Maiden for herself.

It was the first time that Sunset had genuinely seen this side of Cinder before, the merciless enemy, the commander of a crew of bloodthirsty savages, the killer who would smirk as she took your life and soul alike.

This was the Cinder that others saw; Sunset understood, that now. This was the Cinder whom nobody could understand Sunset’s bizarre attachment to. This was the Cinder who made the world terrified.

And she had Amber terrified as well. The fear from this memory was overwhelming; it threatened to have Sunset on the ground puking in blind terror. And the pain, this was the focus of the pain that was tearing Amber apart. This was where it had all started, and this memory — the memory that Amber could perhaps have most done to lose — was completely untouched.

Sunset couldn’t take it anymore. Amber had already gone, and Sunset made haste to do likewise. She didn’t want to stay here, she didn’t want to see this, she didn’t want to … she couldn’t … it was cowardly, but … if she stayed here much longer, then all that she was feeling would undo her utterly.

So she followed Amber further still.

To a memory where Amber stopped, seemingly unable to simply run on, unable to pass this memory by, unable to do ought but stop and stare.

They were back at the ruins, at the old remains of what Amber’s memories suggested had been — or at least she thought that it had been — a chapel, a place of worship long since crumbled, the place as deserted as the goddess who had been worshipped here.

Amber, the old Amber, the Amber of memory, stood once more in the midst of the ruins. She was older now; Sunset could make out no difference between the Amber of memory and the present Amber who stood, silent, watching said memory; they were alike in all respects save for the scars upon the present Amber’s face.

They were not dressed alike; in her memory, Amber was dressed more simply, in a grey blouse with a black bustier worn over the top and a dark grey skirt. Her feet were bare, although she hardly seemed to notice as she danced over the grass that grew where once the floor of this chapel had been.

She was dancing, arms out on either side of her, eyes closed, a smile on her face as bright as the sun.

And she was singing. As squirrels and rabbits gambolled around her, as little birds flew about and settled momentarily upon her fingers before flying up to perch upon the crumbling stone and listen to her sweet song.

“I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream,

I know you, the gleam in your eyes—”

“Is so familiar a gleam,” the other Amber, the present Amber, whispered.

Sunset glanced at her.

“This is … this is when we met,” Amber said quietly.

“Met who?” asked Sunset, with equal softness, as though the memory of Amber could hear her and would be disturbed by too much racket.

“Here he comes,” Amber replied, gesturing to the door, the archway that had once served as an entrance to the chapel.

A young man stood beneath the arch. Not just any young man, but to Sunset’s amazement, she found it was a young man that she recognised: Dove Bronzewing of Team BLBL, dressed in a grey tunic over a black shirt and brown trousers, with a forest-green cloak hanging off one shoulder.

What’s he doing here?

What he was doing was standing as still as though he had been turned to stone, as though he were another statue of an ancient god or some such figure of worship, staring with his blue eyes wide, his mouth open, as he gazed with amazement upon Amber, entranced by the sound of her sweet voice.

“I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem,

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do,

You’ll lo—”

Amber stopped, her singing stopping with her, a gasp escaping her lips as she opened her eyes to see Dove standing there, watching her. She took a step backwards, and then another, raising one hand.

“Wait!” Dove cried, holding up his own hands pacifically as he ventured a step forward. “Please wait,” he said, more quietly now, his voice gentle. “Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I mean you no harm. I was just … I heard a voice singing, singing so beautifully, I had to see who it was.”

Amber was silent for a moment, staring at him. “My mother says I should be wary of strange men.”

“Your mother may be right,” Dove admitted, “but I would not be a stranger to you; my name is Dove, Dove Bronzewing. I live with my grandfather in town.”

“In the town?” Amber repeated, “Just past the woods?”

“Yes,” Dove said, “that’s right, in Fairmarket.”

“I’ve never been there,” Amber replied. “I’ve never been allowed to go there.”

“That explains why I’ve never seen you before,” Dove murmured. He smiled. “I would have remembered if I’d seen you before. Do you…? It doesn’t matter.”

“See how he doesn’t ask where I live,” Amber — the real Amber — said to Sunset in her memory. “He fears to frighten me, or make me suspicious.”

“Can you tell me what your home is like?” Amber asked. “Can you tell me what the world is like? Can you tell me stories?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” Amber replied. “Everything. Whatever you can tell me.”

“I would be honoured,” Dove began, and then paused. He smiled. “If I do, will you sing for me some more? I would love to hear more of that sweet song.”

Amber laughed lightly. “Come back tomorrow, and meet me here, and maybe I will.”

The real Amber let out a sob, covering her scarred face with one hand, her body trembling as she turned away from Sunset and the memory.

“I’m sorry, Dove,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Sunset asked. “Sorry for what?”

Amber shook her head, walking on and then running on, continuing to run, running away from Sunset once again. Sunset resumed the chase, but as she ran, she found that she was running to a stand still, in a sense, because all the memories were here, in this chapel; it was memories of Dove that Amber returned to again and again, of their meetings in these ruins, meetings which she kept secret from her mother and Ozpin. Memories of the stories he told her and of the songs that she sang for him.

She never did sing that song for him, the one that he had interrupted and caused her to stop, but by some art, some magic, some power of love, he seemed to come to know the words regardless, enough to sing them in his own half-decent baritone.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do,

You’ll love me at once, the way you did once,

Upon a dream.”

Memories of them dancing in the ruins, and in the woods, while birds and woodland creatures watched them in delight. Memories of them dancing in Dove’s rustic hometown, which she begged him to bring her to for a festival. Amber laughed like a child in delight to see these rather unimpressive houses, these little homes of wood and daub; to Sunset’s eyes, they seemed mere rustic dwellings lacking in beauty or sophistication, but to Amber, they seemed as marvellous as the palaces of princesses.

“Oh, brave new world,” she whispered, turning around and around gawping at everything, eyes straining to take it in. “Oh, brave new world that has such people in it.”

Perhaps if I told her that I know where Dove is, she’d stop and listen to me.

No. No, I should not do that. Dove doesn’t know about any of this; he’s given no sign that he does, and there’s nothing in Amber’s memories either. Amber wasn’t the Fall Maiden when … when they fell in love.

That was what it was; Amber’s feelings were unmistakable upon that point. They were in love, or at least, she had loved him. In her eyes, in her mind, in her soul, Dove Bronzewing was the one living person who had not betrayed her, had not abandoned her.

But she had abandoned him.

That was a memory that Amber fled through, not stopping this time, seeming to want to avoid it almost as much as her memory of Cinder’s attack, a memory of Amber, dressed just as she was now, mounted on a horse, while Dove stood beside her, looking up.

“You’re leaving then?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “You … you’re going to see Vale, just like you always wanted.” He tried to smile, but his heart was not in it, and he struggled to turn his lips up.

“Yes,” Amber whispered. “Yes, just like I always wanted.”

And yet, nothing like you wanted it, Sunset thought.

“Then…” Dove hesitated. “Then why do you seem so sad?”

Amber bowed her head. “Because … because I don’t want to go.”

Dove reached up and pressed his hand upon hers where they sat on the pommel of her saddle. “I’ll be seventeen soon,” he said. “Next year, I can come to Beacon and study to become a huntsman, just like I told you about. I’ll be there, with you. Just … wait for me, Amber. Promise me you’ll wait.”

Now Amber smiled, and unlike Dove, she was able to smile, to smile with relief, with joy, with anticipation.

“I will,” she declared. “I will!” she cried. “I’ll wait for you, Dove, for months or years or however long it takes, I’ll wait for you because … because I love you. You’re my forever fall.”

Dove reached for her, Amber’s horse obediently sidestepped away from him, not to get Amber away, but rather, to give Amber room to lean down, to lean so far that she was almost falling off the horse, to lean down far enough she could kiss him as he cupped her face with both his hands.

“We will meet again,” Dove promised. “In dreams, and then reality.”

“We will,” Amber vowed. “I know we will.”

And then, smiling, she rode away.

‘They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return.’

And at least the Empress knew what she was getting into when she rode away.

Professor, how could you make someone like this the Fall Maiden? This is a heavy burden to place on Pyrrha’s shoulders, but on Amber? How could you think she was suited for this?

She should have been sent away before her mother died.

But Professor Ozpin, it seemed, had wished for Amber to have the powers. He had not sent Merida to fetch a successor as he had Auburn, he had not sent a successor to live with Merida, he had not removed Amber from Merida’s house, and from her thoughts, he had let them carry on living together until the day Merida died and passed the powers on to her beloved daughter. Why? Why had he done this, why had he allowed it? Why did he think Amber would be a good Fall Maiden?

Secrecy, yes, but if secrecy is all, then why select for virtue? Why choose, if not because you believe the choice matters?

Then why choose Amber?

In some ways, it hardly mattered. Whether by her mother or by Ozpin, Amber had been chosen, and it was Sunset’s task to address the consequences of that.

And so followed where Amber had fled.

Following on until the end of the line.

Amber’s cottage, the home that she had shared with Merida, the place where she had lived in the woods, the place she had felt safe, that was where she’d run to in the end.

Sunset was outside the cottage and could not see Amber, but she knew she was within.

There was nowhere left for her to run.

In front of Sunset, directly ahead, just between Sunset and the cottage, was a raging vortex. The landscape had been ripped apart, and it was streaming like paper in the wind as the vortex pulled against it. Sunset guessed that they had reached the limit of Amber’s remaining aura, the point at which it was all fraying and unravelling. She could see it doing just that, tearing the way that fabric does once first you let it start to tear, little bits of sky and tree and memory pulling free and falling into nothingness. Lost like dreams forgotten upon waking.

She would have to do something about this. But first, as the wind gusted about her, she would have to do something about the grimm.

At first, there were many of them, a dozen at least, all beowolves, the remnants of whatever Cinder had done to Amber, of the darkness that she had flung into her face, the remains of the darkness corrupting her aura, tearing at it, pulling it, devouring it. They had all come to this place, drawn by Amber or by Sunset, she couldn’t be sure. But as Sunset watched, those dozen beowolves all dissolved into black ooze which moved, guided by invisible eyes and invisible intelligence, flowing together into a vast black puddle out of which arose, before Sunset’s eyes, into an enormous many-headed dragon grimm, a Colchian to give it the name of its kind, with two red leathery wings flapping on the back of its long serpentine body.

Sunset could feel Amber’s fear increasing.

“Hey, Amber!” Sunset called out, certain that Amber could hear her even if she couldn’t see. “Watch this; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The Colchian hissed as it slithered towards her on its long black trunk, red tongues flickering from out of its multitude of white, bony heads, each one triangular in shape and ridged with horns longer and sharper than their fangs.

“You see,” Sunset said as she sauntered towards the grimm and the wind blew all around her. “I am not the best huntress around.” She flung out her hand, and Crescent Rose appeared in it, because if this was a dream, then why the hay shouldn’t she be as cool as all her friends? “But I know all the most awesome huntsmen there are, no question.”

She spun Crescent Rose dramatically in the air, planting the scythe-blade in the ground like Ruby always did before she let them have it, firing one, two, three, four shots with the sniper rifle that made the Colchian hiss in pain and anger before she charged. Sunset moved faster than she had ever moved in the real world or ever could, so fast that she was leaving a trail of rose petals behind her as she ran. One of the Colchian’s heads lunged for her, but Sunset came to a sudden halt and slashed at it with her scythe, wounding it. She fired into the ground, propelling herself high up into the air, higher than the Colchian’s heads could reach, and there, she hung suspended for a moment as she turned lazily in the air, before she fell as swiftly as a thunderbolt to slice off one of the Colchian’s heads.

One down.

Crescent Rose disappeared from Sunset’s hands, replaced by Miló in her right hand and Akoúo̱ on her left arm, and like Pyrrha, she leapt with the grace of a dancer away from the snapping jaws of the Colchian, slashing at it with Miló in sword form, then spear form, then switching it to rifle mode to fire five shots at the grimm in quick succession as she leapt away, then back to spear mode as she whirled in place, slashing, then thrusting the spear into the throat of one of the creature’s other heads.

And another one down.

Crocea Mors, new and improved, appeared in Sunset’s hands as she slashed with the sword to cleave off another head cleanly from its trunk.

And another.

Gambol Shroud formed instantly, as swift as Sunset could imagine it, and she buried the cleaver in the eye of the fourth head, grappling onto the grimm’s neck as it writhed in pain, swinging around and around. Another of the remaining heads tried to swallow her, but bit down only on a fire clone that exploded in its jaws. Sunset swung around once more, and her momentum was such that with the sword she could slice off another head.

Ciel’s Distant Thunder took care of another even before Sunset had hit the ground again.

There was only a single head left, roaring and snarling and writhing as Sunset landed.

Penny’s swords appeared all around Sunset like a halo; they formed a ring around her, spinning and whirring, and from that ring erupted an enormous laser burst so bright that it threatened to blind Sunset and consume all else within her vision.

And when it was finished, there was not a single trace of the grimm remaining, nor of the darkness with which Cinder had infected Amber.

Sunset turned her attention to the void and the vortex. She grabbed hold of the flapping tendrils of aura with her thought, this dreamscape making her magic as strong as it needed to be, and once again, a wave like molten metal in the blacksmith’s forge washed down what passed for the reality of this place, stitching it together, fusing it together, remaking it as best Sunset could. It wasn’t perfect by any means; she had seen these woods too briefly to well recall what they looked like, but she had, she thought, accomplished what she had set out to do. She had closed off the tears in Amber’s aura and stopped the constant unravelling that had threatened her life.

Now all she had to do was convince Amber to wake up.

Golden light was already deluging the memories as Sunset walked into the cottage, motes of golden light falling like rain after a long dry spell, light descending as if from heaven to fall upon the ground: Jaune’s semblance, working to boost Amber’s aura now that the degradation had ceased. Why it was only visible to her now, when Jaune had been at work boosting Amber’s aura since Sunset had entered her mind, she could not say; perhaps it was only now the degradation had ceased that Jaune’s aura could have any effect.

Whatever the exact cause, Sunset felt it was rather appropriate.

“Amber?” Sunset called. “Amber, it’s okay now; they’re gone. You don’t ever have to worry about them again.”

A sob was her only answer. A sob that sounded like it was coming from the second floor of the isolated cottage, so Sunset climbed up the wooden stairs, passed framed pencil drawings that looked as though they had been drawn by Amber herself, and made her way into a child’s bedroom, rustic and simple without much in the way of décor but filled with toys and books. The window was open, and a little girl — oblivious to the thunder outside that was no part of her memories — sat on the floor humming to herself, sketching a bluebird that was perched obediently upon the windowsill.

Amber was sitting in the corner, her legs tucked beneath her chin and her arms wrapped around her knees.

Sunset knelt down in front of her. “It’s over,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Is this … is this a dream?” Amber asked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Sunset replied. “But, in this dream, you can choose to wake up.”

Amber closed her eyes. “Once upon a dream,” she murmured. “I was wishing for a never, a never-ending…”

Sunset was once again seized by the desire to tell her about Dove, how he was at Beacon, how he had come just as he had promised he would, how she could see him again if she only woke up. But … she could not. Dove was not in the know, after all. He was not trusted with this momentous knowledge. In all likelihood, whatever had befallen Amber, he would have been kept well away from her by Ozpin. He would not allow her to see him now.

To be a Maiden was to be alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I can’t change what was done to you, but I can give you a better future.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “I was so safe here. I felt so safe here. When she was here, I knew that nothing could hurt me, and when Ozpin … I don’t remember how she died. I don’t remember how I got these powers, I only know that I did. Why don’t I remember that? Why don’t I remember how my own mother died?”

“You’ve been wounded,” Sunset said. “My friend Twilight, she said that … there might some lingering effects.”

“I don’t want to remember everything,” Amber whispered. “I don’t want to remember … I don’t want to remember her, I don’t want to remember what she did to me, I don’t want to feel like this, I don’t want to hurt like this!”

“We can do something about that.”

“No, you can’t, you’re lying!”

“What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Because you’re with Ozpin and Ozpin lied to me!” Amber shrieked. “He told me … he made me think that … I loved him.”

Sunset swallowed. “I know,” she said.

“He made me think that he loved me.”

“I know.”

“But he didn’t!” Amber cried. “He just wanted me to be his Fall Maiden once Mother was gone. I don’t … I don’t remember everything, but I remember … that was why he taught me to fight, he wanted me to fight, he made me fight, he made me into a weapon, and when I didn’t want to, he just kept on bringing me back, and I had to get away and—”

“Calm down,” Sunset insisted. “That can’t be good for you.”

Amber closed her eyes for a moment. “You can’t trust him. However much you give, he always wants more of you. Until in the end, there’s nothing left.”

“I’m going to protect my friends from that,” Sunset said. “I can protect you from that too, if you want.”

“You can’t protect me from him, no one can.”

“Yes, I can, and from Cinder too,” Sunset said. “You can see for yourself, if you’ll just come with me. All you have to do is open your eyes.” She held out her hand. “What do you say?”

Amber shivered. “I’m scared.”

“We’re all scared,” Sunset said. “But we can’t let that stop us from living. In your memories, you loved to sing, to draw; don’t you want to do that again? Don’t you want to live?”

“I’m the Fall Maiden,” Amber whispered. “There’s no living with that.”

“We’ll find a way,” Sunset said. “It has to be better than being stuck in here, right?”

Amber regarded her warily. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m offering to set you free,” Sunset said. “And who else has made you an offer like that?”

Amber hesitated. “I … I don’t remember what the outside world is like. I barely knew it at all, and what I saw … those memories are gone.”

“Then you’ll just have to find out all over again,” Sunset said. She smiled. “It’ll even be fun. Trust me, there’s never a dull moment with my friends around.”

“Brave new world,” Amber murmured. “You won’t … you won’t let him hurt me?”

“No,” Sunset said, thinking that would be an easy promise to keep, since there was no way that Ozpin would want to hurt her anyway. “Come on, take my hand.”

Amber was motionless for a moment, and then another; then, tentatively, she reached out and gently took Sunset’s hand.

Sunset was returned to the vault, staggering backwards as she let go of Amber, she felt someone’s hands upon her shoulders steadying her as her eyes became reaccustomed to the underground gloom, and her soul became reaccustomed to its own company.

In the ice bath, Amber opened her eyes.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Although there were some issues with Amber's character in this story which I hope to correct, they didn't really kick in until the next chapter and subsequent to that, and so this chapter doesn't have a huge number of changes to it. The big changes are all around Amber's visions/flashbacks, some of which are tinkered with and others of which are added, in particular regarding Dove. Dove's relationship with Amber was established way, way back and obviously it comes back now that Amber is about to enter the story.

Apologies All Round (Rewritten)

Apologies All Round

Amber gasped, her arms flailing, causing splashes of water and slowly melting ice cubes to slosh over the rim of the ice bath and down onto the vault floor, slowly spreading out to lap the boots or shoes of Jaune, Pyrrha, and Twilight.

“Here, take my hand,” Jaune said, holding out a hand which she grasped with an instinctual swiftness.

“Got you,” Jaune said as he pulled her to her feet. “Careful now, take it easy.”

“Thank you,” Amber murmured, holding tight onto Jaune as she emerged, dripping, from the bath; she clambered out of it, true to Jaune’s call for caution, surmounting the bath like it was a fence, half falling out of it — perhaps she would have fallen if Jaune hadn’t put out his other hand to steady her about the waist.

Either way, she got out and stood on the cold grey floor of the vault, dripping water from her body and her hair, the water pooling around her as it fell like rain, tap-tap-tapping as it hit the surface.

“Thank you,” she repeated, looking up at Jaune.

She let out a little gasp at the sight of him, but it was followed swiftly after by a little sigh.

“Is everything okay?” Jaune asked.

“I … I’m sorry,” Amber murmured. “It’s just that, your hair and your eyes, you … I thought for a moment that … but no, it doesn’t matter; I’m sorry.”

Jaune smiled. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ve just got one of those faces, I guess.”

Amber might have responded to that, or she might not; either way, anything that she might have wished to say was cut off.

It was cut off by Professor Ozpin speaking a single word. “Amber.”

A quick glance around the room by Sunset confirmed the amazement on the faces of practically everyone present. Even Twilight, who had worked most closely with Sunset on this, was gawking in astonishment as though she was surprised that it had actually worked.

Qrow, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, they all looked as if they had witnessed a miracle, standing amazed with wide eyes and open mouths. Everyone looked amazed, everyone looked much the same with two exceptions. One was Ciel, who was murmuring to herself, speaking beneath her breath, probably a prayer.

The other was Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin did not look amazed. Professor Ozpin’s expression reminded Sunset of a flower that had been for so long deprived of sunlight, trapped under overcast skies and gloomy clouds, that was only now feeling the sun upon its petals once more and daring to open up and feel the warmth again. He looked like a man finding water in the desert, like a man finding shelter in the wilderness … and Sunset was the only one who could see how terribly wrong it was all about to go in a matter of moments, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it.

What have I done?

Amber’s eyes widened as she looked at him, standing in the centre of the vault looking so relieved to see her again. “Ozpin?”

Ozpin nodded. He even smiled, a smile more sincere and earnest and genuine than anything that Sunset had seen on his face before. He took a step towards her, holding out one hand. “It’s good to see—”

“Stay away from me!” Amber snapped, cowering behind Jaune, clinging to him as she used his body as a shield between herself and Ozpin. “You did this to me!”

The look on Ozpin’s face … there was such deep sorrow on his face, it was as though he had aged ten years in a single moment, lines springing to his cheeks and on his brow. He let his hand fall and bowed his head.

“Yes,” he said. “I did.”

Amber looked around anxiously, and she seemed to be progressing swiftly from anxious to frantic as her gaze darted around the many people in the vault. “Who … who are you? Where am I?”

“Safe,” Sunset said. “You are safe, Amber.”

Pyrrha had caught Sunset when she staggered back; now, Sunset stood upright and stepped away from Pyrrha once again, even as she drew Amber’s attention with her voice.

Amber turned her head rapidly to look at her. “It’s you! Sunset Shimmer.”

“That’s right,” Sunset said, walking towards her with her hands still raised above her head. “And these are my friends. They helped me bring you back. That’s Twilight,” she said, nodding to towards Twilight Sparkle. “She helped me more than anyone, but everyone here is here for you. They aren’t your enemies; there’s nothing to be scared of here.”

“He’s here,” Amber said, and there was no doubt who ‘he’ was.

“I told you that he’d sent me,” Sunset murmured. “But it’s okay.”

“You said—”

“I know what I said,” Sunset said quickly, cutting her off before she could repeat it. She had said what she needed to say to get Amber to come with her, but that didn’t mean that she wanted Professor Ozpin to hear it. She could see why Amber was upset with him — she had more grounds than Sunset had ever had to be wroth with Princess Celestia — but all the same, a little discretion on Amber’s part would be appreciated. “And you’ll be safe, I promise. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Amber regarded her warily, yet nevertheless, she stepped away from Jaune half a pace, releasing him from her embrace. She shivered. “I feel cold.”

“Here,” Sunset said, taking off her jacket as she walked towards her, draping it over Amber’s shoulders.

Amber grabbed it in both arms, pulling it tight around her like a blanket.

Sunset touched the jacket on the shoulder, and with her aura, she activated just a little of the fire dust sewn into the fabric, just enough so that it didn’t burn but smouldered like embers, producing heat and light but not actual flame. “How does that feel? Better?”

“A little, thank you,” Amber whispered. She looked around. “Where … where am I? What is this place?”

Sunset waited for Professor Ozpin to answer, but he did not. With the way he was standing like a statue of a despairing man, it seemed possible that he didn’t intend to say anything else at the moment.

Sunset spoke for him, saying, “This is a vault underneath Beacon Tower.”

“Under … Beacon,” Amber murmured. “So you brought me back here after all.”

“It was the only place you could be taken care of after the attack,” Qrow said. He paused for half a moment. “So, how are you feeling, kid?”

Amber stared at him. She cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowing. “Who … who are you?”

Qrow frowned. “You don’t remember me? We’ve met before, you know.”

Amber shook her head. “I don’t … I don’t remember that.”

“Memory loss,” Twilight murmured. “Unfortunately, that’s not unexpected. I’d like to run some tests to see—”

“'Tests'?” Amber repeated. “What … what kind of tests? Would there be needles?” She shook her head. “No, no thank you, I feel fine, I’m just cold.”

“It won’t take very long,” Twilight assured her, “and we can be very gentle. But it’s important that we understand your condition as soon as possible.”

“But 'as soon as possible' need not mean right now,” Ozpin murmured.

His voice was soft, but in this vault, it seemed to echo.

“Ozpin…” General Ironwood began. Then he stopped and paused a moment. “It can wait, Twilight.”

“Yes, sir,” Twilight said. “'Soon' doesn’t have to mean right now.”

“So what does happen now?” Penny asked. It was an innocent question, asked in an innocent tone, but it was also a question that plunged the entire vault into silence because nobody knew the answer.

Amber’s eyes were on Sunset as she said, “I … I’d like to stay with you, Sunset Shimmer. You saved me. I … trust you.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged, at least on a temporary basis,” Professor Goodwitch said. “After all, it wouldn’t be the first time Team Sapphire has had a fifth roommate.”

“Team … Sapphire?” Amber asked.

“That’s right,” Sunset said. “Me, Jaune you’ve already met, Pyrrha.” She gestured towards Pyrrha, standing behind her.

“Hello,” Pyrrha said. She waved. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” But then she also bowed her head. “But also a great honour.”

Amber doesn’t really feel the same way, Sunset thought, but said, “And that’s Ruby over there.”

“Hey,” Ruby said.

Amber only glanced at Pyrrha and Ruby, before her gaze returned to Sunset. “So … I would be staying with you?”

“With all four of us,” Sunset said. “But yes, I’ll be there.”

Amber’s smile was only small and soft, but it was still a big improvement over the near terrified expression that had dominated her face up until that point. “Good,” she murmured. “That … that’s good. I’d like that.”

“Are we sure that’s safe?” Rainbow asked.

“'Safe'?” Sunset repeated. “Why wouldn’t it be safe?”

“Because the Beacon campus is about to be overrun by tourists for the Vytal Festival,” Rainbow said. “It’ll be hard to police that many people; what if someone were to sneak in and—?”

“Only certain areas are open to the public: the docking pads, where the fairgrounds are and the connective space; lots of the school is still off limits,” Sunset replied. “And we—” She stopped short of saying that they would, of course, not let Amber wander around unprotected, because as much as that was true and as much as it was definitely sensible, it seemed like the sort of thing best broken to Amber more gently, and in a more convivial setting than this one. Instead, she said, “What other choice is there?”

“She’d be safe on the Valiant,” Rainbow suggested. “And she could be monitored there for … anything.”

“Subtle, Jimmy,” Qrow growled.

“This isn’t my idea,” General Ironwood said, rolling his eyes, “and I have no objection to Amber staying with Team Sapphire.”

“Sir—” Rainbow began.

“I understand your concerns, Dash, and security measures will have to be put in place,” General Ironwood said, “but that doesn’t require sequestering Amber aboard my ship, something that would just raise questions.”

“I don’t want to go onto any warship,” Amber said. “I want to stay with Sunset.”

“And you will,” Professor Goodwitch said soothingly. “Until more permanent arrangements can be made.”

She glanced around the young huntsmen in the vault. “If anyone asks, Amber is Professor Ozpin’s niece, visiting him while her mother … her mother has recently passed away, and so, Amber is visiting her uncle while he helps her settle her mother’s estate and find a new place to live. She is staying with Team Sapphire as a favour to the headmaster, since she has lost her home, and her impromptu arrival has prevented any better arrangements being made. Please stick to that story; it will prevent undue complication or attention upon Amber.”

I’m pretty impressed you came up with that on the fly, to be honest. “Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. She glanced at Amber, who aside from Sunset’s gently glowing jacket was wearing only the surgical smallclothes that she’d worn in the pod. “Um, I think Amber needs something wear—”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset said. She turned to Amber. “In light of, well, the fact that you’re not really wearing anything, it might be best if we took the shortcut to our room. You guys can follow on after, right?”

“That does seem like the best idea,” Pyrrha said.

“What are you talking about?” Amber asked.

Sunset held out her hand — her left hand, the one that was still covered by a glove to prevent her semblance going off.

Amber took it, with only a brief moment’s hesitation.

“This might just pinch a bit,” Sunset said, and then she teleported.

There was a flash of green light, a squeezing sensation, and then Sunset and Amber were standing in the middle of the SAPR dorm room.

Amber sank to her knees as Sunset released her hand. She stared at the wooden floor beneath her. She stared at all four white-painted walls of the dorm. She stared at the sunlight coming in through the window. “Where … where are we?”

“Our dorm room,” Sunset said. “Where we live. Where you live, for now.”

“So … I’m home?”

Sunset hesitated, pausing in the act of bending down to take the things off her bed. “I guess … I guess you are, yes.” She picked up the stuffed unicorn from off the bed. “This is my bed, but you can sleep here for now. I’ll get the camp bed back from when Blake was staying here.”

“What’s that?” Amber asked, pointing at the unicorn.

“This?” Sunset said, looking down at the fairground prize. “It’s a stuffed toy.” She tossed it to Amber, who didn’t manage to catch it before it hit her and bounced onto the floor, where it landed noiselessly upon the carpet.

Amber bent down and swiftly picked it up. She held it up for a moment, running her fingers over the unicorn’s fur, before she pressed it against her face and nuzzled it with her cheek.

“So soft,” she murmured, as she closed her eyes. “I think I used to have some things just like this. I … I don’t remember what happened to them.”

Sunset sat down on her bed — Amber’s bed, at least for the time being — and said, “Do you … do you want to hold onto it for a little while?”

Amber’s eyes opened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Why not, if you like it?” It will probably get more love from you than it’s gotten from me lately.

“Thank you, Sunset. It’s so soft and pretty.”

“Don’t go nuts; it’s just a stupid fairground prize.”

“'Fairground'? Is that where you got it from?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Flash, my boyfriend at the time, won it for me.”

“Boy friend,” Amber repeated. “Sunset, what’s a boy friend? Why can you only be friends with one boy?”

“It’s not, um … you really don’t know what a boyfriend is?”

Amber shook her head. “Growing up, there weren’t a lot of people around; a lot of the time, there was only my mother for company. I’ve only really known two men in my life: Un— Ozpin—”

Sunset grinned. “You can call him Uncle Ozpin if you want to; nobody’s going to get mad at you for it.”

“I don’t want to,” Amber declared.

“Are you sure, because—?”

“I don’t!” Amber snapped. “I don’t care about him at all anymore!” Sunset’s jacket fell off her shoulders to land in a crumpled heap on the floor as Amber cradled the stuffed unicorn, holding it close as though it could protect her. “I was a fool to think he loved me.”

“It was your choice to make me love you, but it was my choice to believe you loved me in return.”

But you did love me, didn’t you? I was just too selfish and too blind to see it.

Sunset wanted to tell Amber not to judge Ozpin so harshly; whatever mistakes he had made, he probably did love her, the way that Celestia had loved Sunset all along in spite of all the things that Sunset had done … but now was probably not the time, Amber’s mood being what it was, the very opposite of receptive.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Well, anyway, you asked about what a boyfriend was? So, a boyfriend is … Dove. Dove was your boyfriend, or at least a lot of people would say so.”

“Dove,” Amber whispered. “Oh, Dove.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “So … so your boyfriend, the one who gave you this, he was your true love?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Um, okay, um, well … at the time, I kind of thought he might be, but … no. No, he wasn’t, as demonstrated by the fact that he’s not my boyfriend anymore, no, um…” She trailed off for a moment. “I suppose your boyfriend certainly can be your true love, I mean, look at Jaune and Pyrrha, but … all a boyfriend actually needs to be is, well, a boy and you hang out, kiss, talk to one another—”

“That sounds like love,” Amber declared.

“Like I said, it can be,” Sunset admitted. “But not always. Sometimes, it’s just a bit of fun. Sometimes, it just doesn’t work out.”

“You mean it isn’t true love’s kiss?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You spent more time with storybooks than people growing up, didn’t you?”

“How did you know?”

“I’m very perceptive,” Sunset said dryly. “Suffice to say that while some people are lucky enough to fall in love in their teenage years, some of us have to make do with making out on the hood of his car until he realises what complete dumpster fires we are.”

“You mean—?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same to you,” Sunset said.

“Oh, of course,” Amber said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sunset smiled at her. “You didn’t; I just … I’m not proud of the way that I treated him.”

“Did you leave him behind?” Amber asked. “Did you go away and leave him?”

Sunset blinked. “No, that’s not it.”

Amber frowned. “I left Dove behind. He asked me to wait for him at Beacon, but … but I couldn’t. I … I think I … I don’t remember, but … I think I was running away. From here, from Ozpin, from all of this. I just wanted to go home.” She sat down on the bed next to Sunset, leaning upon Sunset, their shoulders touching. She still held the stuffed unicorn in her hands, resting him upon her lap. “If only I’d stayed here and waited, then none of this would have happened.”

Sunset put one arm around Amber’s shoulders, pulling her in a little closer.

“We all have regrets,” she said, “but since you can’t change what you did, it doesn’t do to dwell too much upon what you should have done; you’ll just … you’ll drive yourself to despair if you do that. You’re here now, and safe, and everything else … what matters is the future now, what we do from this point on.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “Do you think that I could find where Dove is?”

Sunset felt a pinching feeling in her stomach as though she were being assailed with crabs inside, snapping at her with their little pincer claws. “I … I’m not sure,” she murmured. “I could look into it, if you like.”

“Would you? Oh, thank you, Sunset,” Amber said. “I’d love to see him again. More than anything else in the world.”

“Mmm,” came Sunset’s wordless response.

A few seconds of silence passed between them, Amber toying with the unicorn in her hands.

“Sunset,” Amber said softly, “how did we get here?”

“We teleported,” Sunset said, relieved to be getting off the topic of Dove. “Using my magic.”

“Your magic?” Amber gasped, looking up at Sunset with wide amber eyes. “Are you a Maiden too?”

“Nope,” Sunset said. “My power is all mine, and a little different from yours.”

“How?”

“I … I’d rather not say, right now,” Sunset said. “It’s … it’s a little personal.”

“You don’t trust me?” Amber asked.

“It’s not that, exactly,” Sunset said. “It’s just not something that I tell to absolutely everybody.”

Amber pouted, but didn’t press the point. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on Sunset’s shoulder. “All right,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

“You can trust me,” Sunset assured her. “You can trust all of us: me, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Blake — you haven’t met Blake yet, but she’s really reliable — and all the Atlesians too. You can trust all of us. We’re all here for you.”

“Because I’m the Fall Maiden,” Amber said, “and the Fall Maiden is important.”

“No,” Sunset said, “because you’re lost, and scared, and you need help.” She took her arm off Amber’s shoulder and wriggled sideways a few inches away from her so that they could see each other better. “Amber, look at me.”

Amber looked at her. They were so close that Sunset could see every scar upon her face, every mark that Cinder had inflicted upon her, every wound that would never fade, no matter how many years passed.

“I have never met such brave, selfless, kind people in all my life,” Sunset declared. “These people, these people whom I’m privileged to know, they … every one of them would do anything they could to help a person in need, someone in your position, Fall Maiden or no. Not because you’re important but because you’re a person. Because you need help, and help is in their power to give. And because that’s just the kind of people they are.”

“And the kind of person you are,” Amber said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Sunset let out a sound that was a little more than a chuckle, a little less than a laugh, and a little more bitter than either, “I … no, I don’t deserve to be named in their company, I … I got lucky with them, I … I’m the one who makes the magic happen, that’s all. I bring the fireworks; they all bring the heart.”

“But you’re the one who rescued me,” Amber pointed out. “Not them.”

Sunset snorted. “Well, I … I try my best.”

“You said you were a huntress,” Amber said.

Sunset nodded. “That’s right. We’re all training to be huntsmen and huntresses.”

“Why?”

“Huh?

“Why do you want to be a huntress?” Amber asked. “I remember … I remember seeing what huntsmen and huntresses have to do. When … when Ozpin taught me about the grimm, I didn’t really understand; it wasn’t until I saw them that I realised how terrifying they are, so why do you want to fight them? Why do you want to risk your life fighting for Ozpin?”

Sunset sighed. “We all have our own reasons.”

“So what are yours?”

Sunset laughed. “Yes, I suppose that’s the obvious follow-up question, isn’t it? At first, it was all about the fame and glory. I’d had … I was like you, I suppose. I’d had a falling out with my teacher, someone I trusted and admired; I thought they’d lied to me, and worse, they’d lied about how much they cared for me, and so I left home in a huff, and I found my way here. I wanted to prove how great I was and be recognised for it. All this at first. Now…”

“'Now'?” Amber prompted.

Sunset shrugged. “I’ve found a home here. I’ve found my place here. I belong here. With my team, with my friends. This is where I stand.”

“Your friends,” Amber murmured. “Do they know where your magic comes from?”

“Yes,” Sunset said quietly.

Amber was silent for a moment. “And you serve Ozpin?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Then you know … you know about Salem, you know about the Maidens, you know everything.”

“I think so,” Sunset said.

“Then why?” Amber demanded. “Why are you still here? Why are you still in this fight?”

“Because I’ve got friends who are too brave to turn away,” Sunset said, “and I’m not going to leave them sticking in the wind. Not while I have the power to help them.”

Amber closed her eyes. “He’ll kill you all,” she whispered. “He’ll kill you, and your friends.”

“Professor Ozpin?”

“Everyone who serves him dies.” Amber declared. “He made me a part of this fight like he made my mother, and then…” She paused. “Sunset, is she going to come after me again?”

“Cinder?”

“Is that her name? The one who did this to me?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said, as her mouth turned dry. “That’s her name. And … she might try again if she knew you were awake, or where you were. But she doesn’t, and that’s why we’re going to be careful to make sure she doesn’t find out. And even if she did find out, she’d have a hard time getting into Beacon anyway, and even if she did manage to get into Beacon … we’d protect you from her. So what I’m trying to say is, don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

The door opened, and Pyrrha and Jaune walked in; the former was carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms.

“Professor Goodwitch found some of your old things in storage,” Pyrrha said, as Jaune shut the door behind them. “Hopefully, it all still fits.”

Sunset got up. “Put them down here,” she said. “Amber’s going to be sleeping in my bed for a while.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said, putting down the neatly folded clothes on top of the duvet. She looked down at Amber kneeling on the floor. “How do you feel?”

“Still cold,” Amber mumbled. “And hungry.”

“Here,” Sunset said, levitating her jacket up off the floor and handing it to Amber. “You dropped this.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you’ll feel better once you get dressed,” Pyrrha suggested. “You could take a shower, too, if you like; it’s just through that door. As for being hungry … I don’t think the cafeteria’s open, but I’m sure that I can find something for you. Is there anything in particular you like?”

“Something warm, please,” Amber said.

“She’s a vegetarian,” Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, then back to Amber.

She nodded. “That’s right. I don’t eat meat since … I haven’t for a long time.”

“I see,” Pyrrha nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Maybe I should take care of that?” Jaune suggested. “If the worst comes to the worst, I can mix something up for you, and Pyrrha and Sunset can stay here with you, I’m not the worst cook ever; in fact, my Mom used to say that I’d be a much better cook than I’d be any of the things that I … actually wanted to be, but the point is, I’m a pretty decent cook, and Pyrrha and Sunset can back me up on that.“

“He is very talented,” Pyrrha agreed.

“Are you sure?” Amber asked. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

Jaune laughed. “It’s no trouble. You’re our guest, after all.”

“Oh,” Amber said. “Then thank you; that would be wonderful.”

“Okay then,” Jaune said. “Let me see what I can do. I’ll be back as quick as I can.” He left the room as swiftly as he had entered it, the door banging shut behind him.

“Where’s Ruby?” Sunset asked, having only now noticed that she hadn’t come in with Jaune and Pyrrha.

“She needed to talk to her uncle,” Pyrrha said. “Family matters, I believe.”

“I see,” Sunset muttered. It wasn’t the best time, but at the same time, Sunset supposed that it was inevitable given the circumstances. “Listen, will you watch Amber? I need to…” She hesitated, knowing what Amber would likely think of this. “I need to talk to Professor Ozpin.”

“Why?” Amber demanded at once. “What do you have to talk to him about? It’s about me, isn’t it?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Sunset said.

“Why? I thought you were on my side.”

“I’m just going to make sure that he doesn’t bother you anymore,” Sunset lied, because she felt the truth — that she felt she owed Professor Ozpin an apology — wouldn’t have gone down very well.

Amber regarded her warily. “You promise that you won’t be long?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Ruby watched Sunset teleport away with Amber.

“I thought that went really well,” Penny said. “Until…”

“Yeah, Penny,” Ruby murmured. “Until…”

“I wonder what she has against Professor Ozpin?” Penny asked quietly.

“She’s been through a lot,” Ruby replied. “Maybe … maybe she’s just … she’s been through a lot.”

“What does that mean?” Penny asked.

“It means…” Ruby hesitated while she tried to find some way to explain it. “It means that you don’t always think clearly, coming out of a situation like hers.”

“I see,” Penny replied. “So do you think she’ll come around?”

“I really don’t know,” Ruby said. “I don’t think anyone can know until … time will tell, I guess.”

“But it will be awkward if she doesn’t, won’t it?” Penny asked.

Ruby sighed. “Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, it could get pretty awkward.”

It could honestly get a lot worse than awkward, all things considered; at some point, even if not until after Cinder was taken care of, Amber was going to have to go back into hiding again; that might be harder to manage if she hated Professor Ozpin and didn’t trust him one bit.

Maybe Sunset could persuade her to be a little nicer to the headmaster. Or maybe Amber would encourage Sunset to go back to distrusting him that way that she had.

Time, as she had said to Penny, would tell.

“Ruby?” Pyrrha asked as she and Jaune started towards the elevator. “Are you coming?”

Ruby shook her head. “I’ll catch up with you guys,” she said. “Uncle Qrow, can we talk?”

Uncle Qrow pulled out his flask and took a swig from it.

“'Talk,' huh? I guess I’ve got time for that.” He screwed the top back onto his flask and put it away. “Oz.”

Professor Ozpin didn’t respond, or even look at Uncle Qrow. He had barely said a word since Amber woke up, and now, he looked so sad that it made Ruby sad to see him like this. She wished that there was something that she could do to make him feel better, but unfortunately, she couldn’t think of anything right now.

“Hey, Oz,” Qrow repeated, slightly louder as though the professor might not have heard him the first time.

Professor Ozpin slowly raised his head and looked at him.

“Your guardian seems a little gun shy,” Qrow said.

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “She’s alive, and awake,” he said quietly. “That is … enough, for today.”

“Okay,” Qrow muttered.

“Professor,” Pyrrha said, as she approached a little closer to Ozpin. “I … I’m sorry that things have turned out this way.”

“We’re all sorry, Professor Ozpin,” Ruby said. “We didn’t mean for things to be this way.”

Professor Ozpin smiled sadly. “Thank you, children. But there is no need to apologise. This is just … the way things are.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk anymore, so as Jaune and Pyrrha headed for the elevator on the right, Ruby walked towards Qrow where he was leaning against the other wall. She looked up at him, waiting, expectant.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get out of here.”

They headed to the elevator on the left, but didn’t speak even when they got inside it and it began to travel upwards. The knowledge that he had known so much, that he had kept so many secrets from her, the fact of what he had been prepared to do to Pyrrha to keep the Maiden powers out of Cinder’s hands … she hadn’t spoken to him since that day, when had told her what he was doing here. She hadn’t known what to say, how to approach him. The idea of Uncle Qrow, smiling Uncle Qrow, fun Uncle Qrow, Uncle Qrow who always played with her when he visited when they were kids, Uncle Qrow who taught her everything she knew about how to use a scythe when she got older, Uncle Qrow who seemed kind of sad underneath it all but who seemed at the same time to be trying to hide it … the idea of Uncle Qrow being willing to do something like that was … she still had a hard time believing, and when she could believe, she didn’t like it, not one bit.

It formed a wall between them. It all formed a wall between them, a wall made up of bricks of years of deception and this big shocking revelation about what kind of … about what he had been prepared to do.

Ruby had no idea how to address it, but she knew that she wanted to.

She knew that she had to.

She wanted to ask him if it was always like this, if he made decisions like that all the time.

She played with her fingers, and she might have pressed all the elevator buttons on the way up except that there were no floors between the vault and the ground with buttons for her to press.

Uncle Qrow didn’t look at her. He had his hands thrust into his jacket pockets, and his back was bent a little as he leaned forwards, and he didn’t say anything to Ruby as the elevator climbed. And when they reached the ground floor, he just walked out, out of the elevator and out of the tower, leaving Ruby to trail behind him as he headed out into the grounds.

She followed him into the courtyard, until he sat down beneath one of the maple trees, where the golden leaves had already started to fall from the trees, if only just.

“This place sure is beautiful,” Uncle Qrow said as he settled his back against the tree trunk and looked out across the courtyard. “I forget that, when I’m away too long. I need to come back just to remind myself. You know, your mom used to sit out here and read when the weather was good. She said she preferred it to being indoors, and me and Raven could both see why. Tai thought we were nuts at first, but … he got it eventually.”

Ruby sat down beside him. “Uncle Qrow—”

“Humour me a second, please,” Qrow urged. “You can do that, right?”

Ruby hesitated for a moment, and then she smiled at him. “Yeah. Sure, I can do that.”

Qrow grinned. He looked away from her, and sighed. “So,” he said. “How’s school?”

“You mean apart from the fact that I’ve gotten involved in a war against an immortal monster?” Ruby asked. “Because that part’s not what I expected.”

Qrow snorted. “Yeah, there’s plenty of time to talk about that later. Apart from that.”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said. “It’s better than fine. It’s been kind of difficult skipping the two years of Combat School, but Sunset helped me out a lot with that, and Pyrrha too. My grades are okay, I guess. I’m acing Grimm Studies.”

“Are you getting into lots of trouble?”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask if I’m staying out of trouble?”

“Maybe I ought to,” Qrow said. “But you know me, right?”

Ruby chuckled. “The only trouble I get into is the kind that Professor Ozpin gets me into.”

Qrow winced. “For shame, kid; when I was a little older than you, I was getting detention every other week! You really mean to tell me that you never put a foot wrong?”

“Well … there was that time we had a big food fight in the cafeteria—”

“Oh, a food fight!” Qrow declared enthusiastically. “Yeah, I remember food fights. They were…” He trailed off. “There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t tell you about all this,” he said, “and there are a lot of reasons why I didn’t want you to know, but one of them is … when I look back on the best years of my life, when I look back on the things I remember … none of my memories are about the work that we did for Oz; they’re about … they’re about being here, with your mom and Raven and Tai just … living, figuring out who we were and who we wanted to be. I wanted you and your sister to have that, without … without this job hanging over your heads all the time.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Ruby said softly, “I guess … I still think you should have told us something, but … I guess I get it. Uncle Qrow; is it always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like … having to ask Pyrrha to get into a machine that might kill her for the good of the world?” Ruby asked. “Is it always hard choices, making trade-offs, weighing the greater good?”

“I hope not, because I’d suck at that,” Qrow muttered.

“I’m serious,” Ruby insisted.

“And so am I,” Qrow replied. “What happened with Amber was a unique situation.” He paused. “What’s just happened with Amber is a unique situation too; everything’s unique these days. My point is … no, it’s not usually like this. At least, it’s not usually like this for me. Maybe Oz has to do that kind of thing, I don’t know, but I … you know that story that you love, the one about the knight, what’s her name, Olive?”

“Olivia?”

“Yeah, that’s it, her, the shepherd girl,” Qrow said. “I’m … I’m Oz’s knight, kind of. Only I don’t have the armour. Or a horse. And to be honest, I’m not much of a kind of guy for honour or chivalry either, so you could say I’m not much of a kind of knight at all, but I serve Oz all the same. I go where he tells me, I do what he tells me, I fight the battles that he needs to be fought and won. And along the way, I do what I can to help those in need. I don’t decide who lives and who dies; I don’t make decisions about what has to be done, what the right thing is, what’s for the greater good. I leave that to Ozpin. I do what I’m told. I’m a fighter, a warrior, and a damn good one too. That’s what I am, that’s what I’m good for, that’s what I do, for Ozpin and the world.”

“You make yourself sound like a soldier,” Ruby remarked.

“Hmm?” Qrow murmured. “Well, now that you’ve said it … now that you’ve said it, I wish you hadn’t, because I hate soldiers, but … yeah, sure. I guess … I guess I am. I’m Ozpin’s soldier.”

“Like one of General Ironwood’s men.”

“Now, I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Qrow said. “I am not like one of those stuffed shirts lining up to kiss Jimmy’s ass. You’ll never catch me saluting Ozpin or calling him 'sir,' for one thing.”

“Do you not like him?”

“Who?”

“General Ironwood.”

“Nah, I like him fine,” Qrow replied. “He’d be a good guy if he could take that stick out of his butt. But I like to make fun of him from time to time, keeps him on his toes. He needs someone to puncture his ego once in a while, because none of his soldiers is gonna do it for him.”

Ruby hesitated. “I … I’m not sure that I like the idea of being a soldier. Having to take orders, not make my own decisions. Don’t you ever wish that you were the one deciding where you went and what you did?”

Qrow shook his head. “We need leadership in this war,” he said. “We need someone who can stand at the top of the tower and look out, seeing everything that’s happening, every battle that has to be fought, every tactic that needs to be countered, everything that has to be done. How am I supposed to know where’s the best place for me to go to stop Salem? How are you?”

“How is Professor Ozpin?” Ruby asked. “He’s just a person, like us.”

“Oz…” Qrow said. “Oz is the wisest man I’ve ever met, and he has knowledge which has been passed down to him from his predecessors. There’s no one better suited to lead this fight or to make these decisions.”

“The hard decisions?” Ruby asked. “Like the ones about Pyrrha?”

“Not even Oz makes those kind of decisions lightly,” Qrow assured her. “Or often.”

Ruby nodded. “I thought that it ought to be easy to make those kind of decisions,” she said. “Do what’s right, what’s best for the greater number, do what will save people … and then you told me about what you were going to do to Pyrrha. And then … then it didn’t seem so easy any more.”

“Raven once told your mom that she didn’t have the stomach to make the hard choices,” Qrow said. “And you know what your mom said?”

“No,” Ruby said. “Because you’ve never told me anything about Mom, remember?”

Qrow winced. “Yeah, well, anyway, your mom looked at Raven and said to her ‘I think that maybe the hardest choice is choosing to care about other people. You certainly seem to find it difficult.’”

Ruby’s eyebrows rose. “That … that was savage.”

“I know,” Qrow said, chuckling. “I thought Raven was gonna hit Summer for a second.”

“Did she?”

“No,” Qrow said. “First, she looked surprised, then she looked angry, then … then she looked annoyed that she’d got angry, and then she stormed off without saying a single word. So I guess you could say your mom had the best of that one.”

He sighed.

“My point is, don’t sweat that you were upset or that you didn’t like it or that you let yourself get talked into holding off on it by your Atlas friend. I…” He paused. “Listen, I know that what I said sounded harsh, about you mattering more to me than that other girl. I … I don’t apologise for that; you’re my niece, you’re Summer’s little girl, you … of course you’re going to mean more to me than someone I don’t know. But I want you to know, I need you to know that I’m not in the habit of throwing lives away just to make your life easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t really like it any more than you did. It’s just that—”

“None of you could see another way,” Ruby murmured. “So what happens now?”

“In the long run, I’m not sure,” Qrow said. “Only Oz can decide that, and I don’t think even he knows at the moment. For now, you need to keep that girl safe. Amber is the most important girl in Vale at the moment, and nothing can happen to her. Not again. So keep an eye on her and watch out for trouble, understand?”

“Got it,” Ruby agreed, nodding. “Nothing is going to happen to her from now. We’ll keep her safe, Uncle Qrow; I promise.”

“Sir,” Rainbow said. “If you have a second, may I have a word?”

The Vault was emptier now than it had been, with Sunset gone, then the rest of Team SAPR, then Qrow Branwen. It was only Team RSPT left with General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch … and Professor Ozpin, who looked as though he’d frozen up again after Qrow had momentarily shaken him out of it.

General Ironwood glanced at Rainbow. “Just a second, Dash.” He turned away, his attention focussed upon Ozpin. “Oz?”

“I am here, James; my spirit has not yet departed from my body,” Ozpin murmured.

The way he said it didn’t seem to reassure General Ironwood very much. He clasped his hands together behind his back, and clasped them tightly too — as Rainbow could see because the General had his back to her.

“We need to talk about what happens next,” General Ironwood said. “In terms of security and in terms of Amber’s health.”

“Later, James,” Professor Ozpin declared. “Amber … Amber has just been through a terrible experience. You are right, decisions will need to be taken, but for now … let her be. She has that right, if nothing else.”

General Ironwood nodded. “And you?”

“What of me?” Professor Ozpin asked. “I have not been newly reawakened after a year of sleep, sinking ever closer towards death.”

“No,” General Ironwood conceded. “But … I know you were fond of her.”

“More than fond,” Professor Goodwitch added. “Professor … we are your servants, but I hope it doesn’t overstep the bounds to say that after long service, in this war and — for my part — in this school, we are your comrades also. If you wish to … we can be here for you, if you need it.”

Professor Ozpin’s expression did not alter. “Thank you, Glynda, that is very generous, but I … I do not require any assistance.”

Are you sure about that? Rainbow thought. Because you look like … you look like someone you loved just told you that they hate your guts. Rainbow imagined that she’d probably look every bit as poleaxed if Twilight or Pinkie told Rainbow that they didn’t want to see her around no more, like she’d just been whacked on the head, like she didn’t know what to do.

Who was she to you?

“She’ll come around, Oz,” General Ironwood said.

“Are you so sure of that, James?” asked Professor Ozpin, sounding very much unsure of that.

“Our children are smart,” General Ironwood said. “They know the score, they know the situation. In time, they’ll understand why we did what we did.”

Probably, sir, but I’d still like to talk to you about it.

“I hope … you may be right, James,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “That will all, thank you. You may attend to your students, if you wish.”

General Ironwood hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright then. Dash … Soleil, Twilight? Penny?”

“I … would not object, sir,” Ciel said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“Nor I,” Twilight said quietly.

Penny hesitated, seeming uncertain for a moment. “I … no. It’s fine, sir.”

She doesn’t need to know because she’s leaving, Rainbow thought. Fair enough; it’s not much matter to her any more. She made up her mind about the General the same as she made up her mind about Atlas.

And that was her choice. It was Professor Ozpin that Penny needed to be concerned with now.

“Very well,” General Ironwood said. “Dash, Soleil, Twilight, with me.”

He led the way into the elevator, the one that Ruby and her uncle hadn’t taken; that had the disadvantage of leaving Penny momentarily alone with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch, but Rainbow was sure that Professor Goodwitch would take good care of her until the other elevator returned, which shouldn’t be long.

In any case, the three Atlesians got in after General Ironwood, with the General himself turned to face them all, his back against the elevator wall as it began to ascend.

“Do you want to discuss what just happened down there, Dash?” asked the General.

“Actually, sir,” Rainbow said, swallowing, “I was hoping to talk about a little before that, about before Sunset came up with this whole plan.”

“You mean you want to talk about Ozpin’s plan,” General Ironwood said. “Our plan.”

“General,” Twilight murmured. “That machine was not built to be used on another person. The effects … there is a chance that they could have been minimal for Pyrrha, but equally, there’s a chance they could have been catastrophic. Not to mention the fact that even if Pyrrha suffered minimal ill-effects or side-effects other than possession of the Fall Maiden’s power, the process would have killed Amber.”

“Amber was dying already,” General Ironwood pointed out. “It wasn’t believed that there was a way to save her, and when there was, Ozpin took it.”

“Yes, sir, but … if you will forgive me bringing my faith into this, this business … it has a whiff of the unholy about it,” Ciel said. “To create life using a machine is one thing, to create a machine to preserve life, that is something honourable and noble and pleasing to the eyes of heaven, but … to meddle in the soul is to meddle in things that we do not have the wisdom to use well, which, being the case, we should at least be wise enough to leave it be.”

“And let magic fall into the hands of our enemies,” General Ironwood said. “And let the ability to access one of the four relics fall into the hands of our enemies? I understand your misgivings, believe me; what we asked of Miss Nikos was not something that I, or Ozpin, or anyone else took lightly. It was a last resort in a desperate situation.”

“Throwing a life away, sir?” Rainbow asked. “One of our comrade’s lives? Someone who’s fought alongside us?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. He looked down.

“Was it…?” Rainbow hesitated. “Was it really that desperate, sir?”

General Ironwood didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said, “I understand why you have misgivings. I understand why you feel the way that you do. I’m not going to tell you that your feelings are invalid; I’m not going to don a cloak of moral righteousness and tell you that everything I’ve done has been right and good and just and that to question me is tantamount to treason. In your position, I’d probably react much the same. But as a senior officer, I have to take account of the good not just of all my soldiers, all my students, but also of the good of Atlas, and as a member of Ozpin’s inner circle, I have to have regard for the safeguarding of the four relics, of the magic of the four Maidens.”

“The magic, sir,” Rainbow said, “but not the Maidens themselves?”

“They are one and the same,” General Ironwood said. “In most circumstances.” He paused a moment. “In my position, in Ozpin’s position, with no chance of Sunset Shimmer providing a solution, what would you have done differently? Rather than ask Miss Nikos, or anyone else, to get into the pod, what would you have done?”

Rainbow considered it for a moment. “I … I would have let Cinder get the powers, and then when she got overconfident and tried to go for the relic, I’d hit her with everything we had. Take her out, take the powers back. The magic doesn’t make her invulnerable, sir, or else how were the powers taken back the last time? The way I understand it, there was a point when all four Maidens were evil, but they were killed, and the magic was put back into the hands of trustworthy people. It can be done.”

“It can,” Ironwood said. “But what makes you think Cinder would get overconfident?”

“She accepted a challenge to single combat from Pyrrha for no other reason than she wanted to prove how awesome she was, sir,” Rainbow pointed out. “It was kind of nuts on both their parts already, but knowing that Cinder had half the maiden magic, and that if she’d died, it would have all gone back to Amber? She put Salem’s plans at risk for her ego, and her ego would swell up twice as large once she became the Fall Maiden for real, no caveats. I think my read on her is right, sir; she’d feel invincible, and she’d forget that she wasn’t.”

General Ironwood nodded. “I’m not saying that you’re wrong. You might even be right. And if you rise up in rank and if you continue to work as part of this group, then there will come a time when you can make your case to whoever stands in Ozpin’s shoes one day. That’s the privilege of command, that you can stake out your ground and stand by it; the burden of command is that by the time you’re in that position, you might not feel the same way anymore.”

“If we want to keep working for this group, sir?” Rainbow asked.

“I can’t force you,” General Ironwood said. “If you want to back out, then so long as you give me your word to keep our secrets, I won’t stop you, and neither will Professor Ozpin. No one will fault you if you want no part in this.”

“That would be easy, wouldn’t it, sir?” Rainbow asked. “But it would also mean that I wouldn’t get the chance to make my case, to you or anyone else, and I wouldn’t have the right to complain or protest if the people who did stick around decided to ask Pyrrha to get into the pod. No, sir; I’m in on this.”

General Ironwood nodded. “And I’m glad to still have you onboard, Dash. I’m glad to have all of you.”

Penny regretted having let the others leave on the elevator without her, as it meant that she was left alone with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.

It wasn’t that she had any objection to either of them — they were going to be her teachers, after all — but that didn’t mean that she knew how to be alone with them.

Especially since Professor Ozpin seemed so sad.

She … kind of understood. She wasn’t sure if she understood how people felt well enough yet to completely understand, but she kind of understood. Professor Ozpin had wanted to be so happy here. He had expected to be so happy. He had thought that this was going to be wonderful, absolutely wonderful. But instead … instead, it had all turned out awful.

Penny had never had her expectations disappointed, but she thought that, if she did, if having got her hopes up, everything had just fallen to pieces, shattered like glass, then she would be pretty down about it too.

It must be awful for him, to be let down after having expected so much, hoped for so much.

Of course, she didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, if anything, but … if he’d done something to Amber — besides being willing to kill her to give her magic to Pyrrha, which … wasn’t wonderful, but at the same time, it wasn’t something that Amber knew about, and also, he’d … not given Amber a choice, but he probably would have if he could, and it seemed as though he’d thought she was as good as dead anyway — then why would he have expected her to be all smiles when she woke up?

If he had done things to her that would make hate him, then why would he care what she thought? You didn’t hurt people you cared about, only the ones that you didn’t care for, or didn’t even see as people at all.

Maybe he deserved it. Maybe. But Penny didn’t know that. What she knew was that he looked so sad, and while a part of her wished that she wasn’t here to have to watch it, another part of her, a bigger part, wished that she could do something to help him.

Silently, she walked across the vault. To Penny, it sounded like her footsteps were echoing loudly off the walls and ceiling of this enormous chamber, but neither of the two professors paid her any notice at all.

They didn’t notice her until she reached Professor Ozpin and reached out to put her hands around his.

“It’s going to be alright, Professor,” she said. “I’m sure that things will turn out for the best.”

“I wish that I could share your optimism, Miss Polendina,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind sharing where you come by it?”

“I look,” Penny said. “I look around, and I see a world filled with incredibly kind people where things mostly work out for the best, where people survive dangerous missions, where people make friends and fall in love, where people … who realise that they were hurting others apologise and make up for it. I see a world where nothing stays sad forever, or even for very long.”

Professor Ozpin looked at her, and looked like he was trying to smile, even if he couldn’t quite manage it. “Thank you, Miss Polendina,” he said softly. “I appreciate the offer of comfort. But for now, if you would excuse me, I require some solitude.”

“Are you sure, Professor?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said. “Yes, I must … I must seek for comfort in my own way … if I can.”

Amber stood in the shower, letting the water wash down her back and seep through her hair to drip, drip, drip onto the floor.

She bowed her head, wishing that the hot water which pressed, needle-like, down upon her back could wash away her fears as easily as it washed away the dirt.

She had both her arms resting on the wall, as if she couldn’t stand on her own. Maybe she couldn’t; she’d hardly tried. She’d always held onto something.

Her whole life holding onto someone else.

In spite of the heat of the shower, which she had turned up to its maximum temperature, she still felt cold, and the hunger in her stomach was like an aching pit.

She felt so cold, so cold and so lonely. Cold and lonely and tired. So tired, even though she had just woken up. Cold and lonely and tired and scared and angry.

“'Oh, brave new world,'” she whispered bitterly.

She bowed her head as the water droplets trickled down her face. They might have almost looked like tears.

She wanted to get away from this place. She wanted to go home, to the cottage in the woods. She wanted Dove, to see him again, to sing to him. She wanted … she wanted to be able to trust Uncle Ozpin again, to be able to love him and to believe that he loved her. She wanted to sit in front of the fire and read with him while they drank hot cocoa. She wanted everything to be the way it was.

Stupid. Things would never be the same again. Even if she could forgive him for what he’d done to her … she could never escape it.

She would never be free from this. She would always be the Fall Maiden.

She would always be hunted.

She turned her head, and Amber caught sight of her reflection, dimly in the shower screen even as the mist began to cloud it over … except it wasn’t her reflection; it was Cinder, Cinder smirking at her as the mist rose all around her, Cinder staring at her as though she were prey or meat.

Amber leapt back with a cry of alarm, slipping on the wet floor of the shower and toppling onto her rear, sliding down the wall until she was a tangle of arms and legs on the floor looking up, staring into the mist, waiting for Cinder to stride out of it. Her breath caught in her throat.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Amber?” Pyrrha asked. “Is everything alright?”

Amber breathed in and out. She stared. There was no sign of Cinder, nor even her reflection.

“Yes,” she said, quietly. She raised her voice. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Pyrrha said. “If you need anything, just shout for me.”

I need someone to keep me safe. I need someone to protect me. Can you do that?

Can anyone do that?

Sunset’s stomach became increasingly unsettled as she rode the elevator up to the top of the tower. She didn’t know for certain that Professor Ozpin would be up there — it would make just as much sense for him to still be down below in the vault, brooding — but she thought that he might have retreated to his high sanctum after the disappointment of today.

She felt ill. She felt guilty. She felt responsible. Mostly because she was guilty and responsible. She had had the idea, she had championed the idea, she had brought in Princess Celestia to persuade Ozpin to give her the go ahead, and for a while after that conversation, he had seemed renewed and reinvigorated, a younger man suffused with hope.

And now, that hope was shattered anew, and it was all Sunset’s fault.

What must he think of her right now?

It was not something that she could have said to Amber in her current state, but she thought that the Fall Maiden was being too harsh on him, just as Sunset had been far, far too harsh on Princess Celestia. Mistakes did not equal a lack of love, still less its absence. They simply meant that even the wisest were not infallible. Princess Celestia had erred in failing to see early enough that Sunset was not meant to wear the crown or bear the wings of destiny; Professor Ozpin had erred in failing to see that the weight of the Fall mantle would crush Amber beneath it, and it might be said that he had erred the greater in not realising this before he made her the Fall Maiden, or put her in such a position where she might become Fall; but in the end, they were just mistakes, not malice. Princess Celestia had turned out to love Sunset no less, and Professor Ozpin seemed to love Amber no less.

And if Princess Celestia hadn’t thought at one point that I had greatness in me, then we would never have had our time together, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

But how would any of that bring comfort to Professor Ozpin right now? How would any of that make him hate Sunset any the less for what she had done?

The elevator door opened, and the chime seemed almost as though it was ringing for her execution.

Sunset stepped out into the headmaster’s office. Professor Ozpin was there, but he had his back to her; his chair was turned right round so that he was looking out of the window.

Sunset advanced, stopping a few feet away from the desk. She found herself standing like the Atlesians did, with her feet spaced out and her hands clasped behind her back.

Professor Ozpin said nothing. Had he not heard the elevator door open?

Sunset cleared her throat.

“I know you’re there, Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin said softly. He sounded infinitely tired.

Sunset looked down at her feet. “I feel I owe you an apology, Professor,” she murmured. An apology was the least she owed, but it was all she could offer right now.

Professor Ozpin’s chair swung round until he was facing her. He looked as though he had been crying. “'An apology'? And what do you think you have to apologise to me for, Miss Shimmer?”

For a moment, Sunset was silenced by her incredulity at the words that had just come out of his mouth. “I … well, for what happened down in the vault.”

“You promised me that you would bring Amber back,” Professor Ozpin said. “And you did. As far as I am concerned, you played your part … magnificently. You don’t owe me an apology, Miss Shimmer. Rather, I owe you my thanks, for bringing Amber back to me.”

“But…” Sunset stammered. “But she—”

“Hates me?”

“I, um, I wasn’t going to use a word that strong, but … something like that.”

“And so, because of that, I should wish her dead?” Professor Ozpin asked. “I should wish her dead, and perhaps Miss Nikos too, or both of them dead and something new emerged out of their personalities because at least I would not be disdained by it? Do you think so little of me, Miss Shimmer, that you think my thoughts would run down such dark lines?”

Sunset shuffled on the spot. “No, Professor.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And besides, Amber has the right to be angry with me,” Professor Ozpin said. “She has been through so much, endured so much … but even if she did not have the right to her anger, that would still not be your fault. You did all you could; I cannot expect you to not only save Amber but to restore the relationship that we once had … the fault is mine for forgetting that our relationship was broken before Amber was attacked.”

“She couldn’t handle it, could she, Professor?” Sunset asked.

She was aware that she was trespassing on dangerous ground here, that she could very easily by her prying arouse the ire that had not fallen on her for what had happened in the vault. Nevertheless, she wanted to know; she wanted to have her … her suspicions confirmed.

But Professor Ozpin did not seem angry. He barely seemed to react at all, and when he answered, it was in the same melancholy tone as before. “It is a heavy burden, and not for everyone. Not for the wicked, certainly, but even for the good … not everyone can comfortably walk in the shoes of a prophet. And yet, I had been so sure with Amber; I had watched her for so long…”

“She was your student,” Sunset said. “Not at Beacon, but … in the way that I was Celestia’s student, in the way that she was watching me to see if I could achieve ascension … that was why you visited her so often. You were teaching her, but also seeing if she was the right kind of person to become Fall Maiden.”

“I hoped she would be,” Professor Ozpin confirmed. “When I found her, a crying babe, the sole survivor of a grimm attack, it seemed like a miracle. We had endured so many losses recently that finding her … something about her seemed almost miraculous. Merida, the Fall Maiden, took her to raise as her own daughter; she too had been drawn by this child, this life in the midst of devastation and destruction; she would suffer none other to raise the girl. She had always wanted a child, but the life of a Maiden … it is rare for them to have the opportunity.

“It was not my first thought, but living together, it was, if not inevitable then at least very likely that Amber would be the last person in Merida’s thoughts when she died, the inheritor of Merida’s magic. It was pointed out to me as a reason to separate them, but I thought that … I hoped that … it was a kind of experiment, I suppose. An experiment in a natural innocence, someone untainted by the world in all its cruelty. Yes, you are correct; I watched her, from afar and sometimes from close by. And in the watching, I came to … to love her.”

“Something else Princess Celestia would recognise, I think,” Sunset murmured.

She did not say so, but she could not help thinking that Professor Ozpin’s mistake had been in thinking that by this experiment he was creating someone pure of heart and not just someone sheltered and naïve. It was all very well to be raised in the woods with only your mother-figure for company, with occasional visits from your father-figure to tell you of a world that you could never see, and no doubt, Amber had been happy in such a life. But it did not make you an innocent, except perhaps in the sense that you had never had to deal with life and its troubles. That was why, Sunset believed, Princess Celestia had sent Twilight Sparkle to live in Ponyville, not only to be with her friends but also to suffer life in all its tiny tribulations. Yes, Twilight’s life was very peaceful and content compared to Ruby’s life, or just the life of the average person in Remnant, but nevertheless, the life she had led, the friends she had made, the lessons she had learned had prepared Twilight to ascend and become a princess.

You couldn’t call yourself an honest person until you were faced with a situation where it would be advantageous to lie. You couldn’t call yourself loyal until you were tempted to betray your friends, your principles, something. It was easy to be kind when everyone you knew was unfailingly kind to you. It was easy to be generous when you lived on the generosity of others. You didn’t really know what laughter was until you wept. Amber had not asked for any of this, but neither had she been tested in a manner that would have sufficed in Equestria, let alone in Remnant. She had not had the chance to learn a single lesson that would have prepared her for this exalted state.

It was as Sunset had long thought, ever since reading the myths of the Maidens: Remnant had it backwards, in rewarding you with great power and then expecting you to go out and do something great; in Equestria, you did something great and then you ascended in acknowledgement of your greatness. A much more sensible system.

She kept all these chauvinistic thoughts to herself, of course.

“Amber,” she said quietly. “She’s upset right now, she’s been through a lot and Twilight’s right, she doesn’t remember everything. She does remember … Professor, did you know that the boy she was in love with is here at Beacon? Dove Bronzewing of Team Bluebell?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin confessed. “Yes, I know, although I did not know at first. Merida told me that there was a boy, a boy from a village beyond the woods; we had thought that the villagers feared the woods and shunned them, but apparently, this young man was different.”

“Like the boy in The Warrior in the Woods,” Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin looked as though he might smile. “Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I suppose you’re right, Miss Shimmer. In any case, Merida did not tell me his name; she assured me she was dealing with it, and there, the matter rested. I never met the young man in question. But Mister Bronzewing … he came to see me, when the year began; he was searching for Amber. I … I told him nothing. I could not take the risk.”

“I haven’t told Amber that he’s here,” Sunset said, “Nor have I told Dove that Amber is here, either, obviously. I thought that I should wait until I’d spoken to you before I did anything—”

“That is very kind of you, Miss Shimmer.”

“But … I understand that there are reasons to keep silent,” Sunset said. “It was those reasons, as much as anything, that held my tongue with Amber earlier, Dove being ignorant of all these truths under which we labour, but … nevertheless, Professor, I, having had the walk over here and the elevator ride up to your lofty perch to consider upon the matter … I should like to bring them together without delay.”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “I … am not so sure that would be wise, Miss Shimmer.”

“Indeed, Professor, I will concede the point, but I might retort that we are at a point where wisdom and we have parted company, and only a choice of gentle follies or of cruel ones awaits us,” Sunset said. “She loves him.”

“She believes she loves him,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It is the privilege of youth in its naïve inexperience to burnish with the name of love the first flush of young affection.”

“And it is the tiresome privilege of old age in all its condescending cynicism to deny that the young may feel true passions and understand what they feel, for all that they lack years and disappointments both,” Sunset replied, her voice sharpening a little. “Amber is young, yes, as Pyrrha is young, as Jaune is young, and yet, they are in love. Young, inexperienced, but their feelings no less true for it. They are in love, as Amber is in love; I have felt it. I have been into her soul, Professor, which no one else can say, and I have felt the waves of her devotion upon the shores of my soul.”

“Can you say that Mister Bronzewing is likewise in love?” Professor Ozpin said. “Have you looked into his soul as well?”

“No, Professor, as you well know,” Sunset said. “But … from what I saw in his memories … Amber does not recall him once attempting to take advantage of her, to use her roughly, to be ungentle, or ungentlemanly. Rather, from what I saw, he seemed quite devoted.”

“‘Seemed,’” Professor Ozpin repeated. “He seemed devoted. And yet, what may seem is not necessarily what is, is it, Miss Shimmer?”

“I do not deny that not all that looks like love is true as gold,” Sunset admitted. “Some … some is mere fool's gold in the end. I admit that freely. I have mistaken the two in my own life, I own that fact, but … all I say is that that is not what I felt in Amber’s soul and not what I observed in the interactions that she had with Dove that I perceived in her memories.”

“And so for the sake of love, you would have me break secrecy and admit Mister Bronzewing into these mysteries, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Is that correct?”

Sunset shuffled a little on the balls of her feet, feeling that she was not doing very well so far; she didn’t seem to be making much of an impression on Professor Ozpin. “He need not be told everything, Professor. Of the Maidens yes, but if Amber will keep quiet about Salem and the rest, I do not see that he needs to know it.”

“To know of the Maidens is to know quite enough,” Professor Ozpin replied. “And I … you will forgive, Miss Shimmer, the condescending cynicism of old age,” — it was his own turn to sharpen his voice, to emphasise Sunset’s words as he threw them back in her face — “but I have lived through more years than you, and I have seen…” He paused, and sighed, and turned his chair around so that Sunset could no longer see his face; his reflection in the window was rendered vague and indistinct by his distance from it, Sunset could obtain no nuances there.

“I have seen what seemed like love. I have seen what seemed like the greatest love in the history of the world, a true love story for the ages … I have seen such turn to hate and bitterness, a cancer spreading where affection only once ran deep, poisoning all the weeds in the garden.”

“Are you talking about Raven Branwen and Ruby’s father, Professor?” Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin let out a bitter laugh. “Would that I were, Miss Shimmer, no, no for all her faults … for all her faults, Raven did not kill her daughter as she departed.”

Sunset did not reply to that. There was nothing that she could think to say. This was … this was an instance where youth and inexperience truly rendered her dumbstruck. Infanticide? To hate your husband so much that you would kill your own child or children? Sunset could not fathom the depths of such hatred; even Cinder, who hated many things and many people, would surely not hate someone who had come out of herself so much that she would strike it down to spite another. Such hate … what could breed such anger in a person?

Sunset had been left abandoned, a bawling filly in her swaddling clothes, outside the palace gate; she knew that the mere act of motherhood did not always breed love in the mother, but even the mare who had borne her had been moved enough to make the effort to secure for Sunset a comfortable existence and a bright future.

Fillies and foals were not left behind in Equestria; though their parents might be absent, there would never be any shortage of willing hooves and open hearts to care for their needs.

To kill a child, your own child? Such was the act of monsters greater than any that Equestria had banished to Remnant.

When Sunset found her tongue again, she also found herself darting around the edges of what Professor Ozpin had said. “I think … I think you do Dove wrong to suggest that he is such a man to betray Amber,” she said softly. “Though I do not know him well, what I have seen of him has been of a man generous and goodhearted. With no insult to Jaune intended by the comparison, I think he is as worthy to know your secrets as Jaune is.”

Professor Ozpin turned his chair to face Sunset once again, wiping at his eye with one hand.

“Yet still you ask me to trust love, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “You ask me to trust love with much that is of great import to the world, and I fear … that is not something I am able to do.”

“Then what will you do, Professor?” asked Sunset. “What will you bid me do? Lie to Amber? Keep them apart? I am not sure the school is large enough to make that practical, and even if it were … I make no great claim upon my virtue, Professor. I have done things you know well enough, and things that you do not know perhaps, and amongst those things, I have, Celestia forgive me, told lies by the airship-load, even to those who love me best and have most claim upon my honesty.” Wow, put like that, it doesn’t make me sound good does it?

What an awful person I am.

Sunset thrust her hands into her jacket pockets, bowing her head, letting her ears droop into her hair and her tail droop limply down towards the office floor, her face falling like her opinion of herself, a chill wind descending on her soul.

Sunset closed her eyes a moment and reminded herself that it was Amber, not her, who mattered now. She looked up — Professor Ozpin had kindly waited for her to continue — and said, “And yet, Professor … I fear that I may have reached the limits of my vices.”

“To find one’s conscience should never be a thing to fear, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin informed her gently. “Although … why now? If I may ask, and why is this the matter that so offends you? Surely you can see—”

“Yes, Professor, I can see why you do not wish to tell anyone anything more than you have already told them, but this … leaving aside the practicalities — or don’t leave them aside, if they will persuade you more than high-minded arguments; how easy do you think it is likely to be to keep the two of them apart? — it is a cruel thing. Amber is … lost. This world is not hers, this life was not of her choosing, by … by your design, although I know you meant no ill by it, nevertheless, by your design, she was given power and thrust into this conflict; as a result, she was attacked, she nearly lost her life, and now … now, she is lonely and frightened, and her life will never be what she would wish or imagined it might be. Now … I have the kindest team, and I have no doubt that they will make Amber welcome, but to deny her someone who would support her, stand by her side, soothe the sting of … all else that hangs over her, you would not deny her that? I know that you are not a cruel man, Professor, though you have made some decisions that might be called cruel for reasons … be kind, Professor, I beg of you. Do not become that which Amber believes you to be.”

Professor Ozpin hesitated. He did not agree, but he did not refuse her outright either.

Sunset pressed home her advantage. “And if that does not move you, then one more practical point: if Amber finds Dove, as she might, if fate and chance should have them meet, and she finds out that I have lied to her in your instruction … she will revile me as much as she does you. Though she trusts me now, that trust will not survive such a discovery.”

“And that would never do,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “You are correct, Miss Shimmer; she would think that you are nothing more than my lackey, set to manage her on my behalf, and I cannot have that. You must stay close to her, for her own sake; you must retain her trust so that you can protect her, at least for now.” He paused. “You are certain of Mister Bronzewing’s heart?”

“I do not claim to know his heart, Professor, only Amber’s,” Sunset admitted, “but what I have observed of his conduct puts me at ease.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Then introduce them. Reintroduce them, rather. Amber may ask why you did not do so immediately, but you may blame me for the minor delay; let the odium in which I am held shield you in Amber’s good opinion.”

Sunset frowned slightly. “She will forgive you, Professor, and remember that you love her, and she loves you also.”

Professor Ozpin almost smiled. “Whence comes this optimism, Miss Shimmer?”

“I forgave,” Sunset replied. “I understood that that which I had hated and resented was, in itself, love, and an attempt to protect me, even from myself. I forgave, and I understood, and now, love flows between us once again.”

“Well, we can only hope, can’t we?” Professor Ozpin said lightly; so lightly that Sunset thought he might not be taking her entirely seriously. The lightness ebbed from his tone as he asked, “How is she?”

“Cold, hungry, curious,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha is with her now, while Jaune is trying to rustle up something to eat for her.” She paused. “I could put in a good word for you with her, if you—”

“No,” Professor Ozpin said at once. “No, Miss Shimmer, that is not necessary. Pay me no mind; focus on Amber; make her welcome, stand with her in the battle that may come … and make her happy, if you can. But most of all, please take good care of her.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Amber is... not the best written character in the original version of this story, to put it mildly, and the problems started here in this chapter, when she was as concerned with whether she could manipulate Team SAPR to do what she wanted rather than with her fear or trauma. I tried to play her up as more of an ingenue in this version, with a focus on how inexperienced she is in the world, how she doesn't know much outside of the woods where she lived for most of her childhood.

Other things that changed were the conversations between Ruby and Qrow and Ironwood and Dash, it was a surprise to go back to this chapter and see just how hostile Rainbow Dash was to Sunset as a result of the way that I'd written the Breach the first time, obviously that changed, and now Rainbow's suggestion that Amber should be secured on the Valiant is motivated solely by genuine concern for her safety rather than by a dislike or distrust of Sunset. Ruby and Qrow's interaction was rewritten to take into account of what happened between them a few chapters ago.

And, of course, the Amber/Dove relationship continues to have consequences, as it's one of the things that Sunset and Ozpin talk about at the end.

Born Romantic (New)

Born Romantic

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha looked up from her book, eyes fixing upon the bathroom door. Amber was still inside, although the sound of the shower had died down a little while ago. Presumably, she was getting dressed.

Pyrrha set her book — the Fairytales of Remnant book; she had intended to re-read some of her old favourites, The Shallow Sea or The Girl in the Tower, but had found herself drawn instead inexorably towards The Story of the Seasons, to the story of the first Maidens and how they had acquired their powers; she had found it impossible not to read it — aside and got to her feet. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Amber said softly, or perhaps her voice only seemed soft because a closed door separated them. “This makeup, who does it belong to?”

“That depends,” Pyrrha answered. “Some of it’s mine, and some of it belongs to Sunset.”

There was a moment of silence, before Amber asked, “Can I borrow some of it?”

Pyrrha smiled, if only to herself since there was no one else around to see her smile. She walked briskly across the bedroom, passing in front of Sunset’s bed — Amber’s bed now — to reach the bathroom door. “May I come in?”

There was another pause before Amber opened the bathroom door. She was dressed in an off-white blouse with short sleeves, stopping above her elbows, and frilly lace-like detailing around the shoulders and the swooping neckline. A central split led the eye down to the pleated, almost peplum-like lower half that covered her thighs above her dark brown trousers. Most of said trousers were hidden, disappearing into a pair of sturdy brown thigh-high boots, boots which were, themselves, covered from the knees on down by a pair of gilded armoured boots, high-heeled with decorative work around the knee that could not but put Pyrrha in mind of her own greaves, even if they were not quite so detailed in the workmanship. Amber’s blouse was partially obscured by a brown vest which fastened about her torso like a bustier, but which also incorporated a high collar that fastened tight around her neck, while leaving her chest and the collar of her blouse exposed. An amber pendant, decorated with a trio of small feathers in red, green, and gold, was fastened onto the shoulder of her vest.

A gilded pauldron rested on her right shoulder, while a similarly gilded vambrace upon black leather was fastened around her left wrist. A pair of golden bangles hung loosely from her right wrist, falling down onto her hand.

“That outfit suits you,” Pyrrha said. “You wear it very well.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Amber asked, looking down. “It isn’t my favourite. I suppose Ozpin gave this outfit to you because he knew that it wasn’t my favourite.”

“It was Professor Goodwitch who gave us these clothes for you, not Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha pointed out, “and in any case, I think you do Professor Ozpin wrong to suggest that he would be so petty.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Amber cried. “Maybe if he turned you into one of his Maidens, then you’d understand how awful he can be!”

He did, or tried to at least, Pyrrha thought, and in ways that were more awful than simply inheriting the powers naturally, or at least as naturally as can be where magic is concerned.

For that reason, amongst others, she could not wholly deny Amber her right to dislike Professor Ozpin, or to hold him responsible for her condition. It was as she had discussed with Penny: had Amber chosen this, had she known what she was getting into? It seemed that the answer was no, and that … that did not reflect well upon Professor Ozpin.

At least I was given a choice to make with eyes wide open.

“I … do not tell you not to blame him,” Pyrrha murmured. “You have the right, but nevertheless, Professor Ozpin is not a petty man; he is not cruel and certainly not for cruelty’s sake. You do not have to like him, but he did not give you this outfit out of spite.”

“Mmm,” Amber murmured wordlessly. Her right hand brushed against the pleated hem of her blouse. “I think … I was wearing this when … when … I was … when—”

“I think I can guess; you do not need to say it,” Pyrrha said quickly. Perhaps you could have tried to find her something else, Professor Goodwitch. “If you’re not happy about it … I’m a little taller than you are, but I might have an outfit that would fit you, and if not, then I’m sure Sunset wouldn’t mind—”

“No,” Amber said, “it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked. “Because you don’t have to wear that if you don’t want to.”

Amber shook her head. “It’s fine,” she repeated. “Do you … do you really think that it looks good?”

Pyrrha nodded. “I do,” she said, smiling, glad that they had put the discussion of Professor Ozpin behind them. It was not something that she really wanted to discuss with Amber. It wasn’t something that she really wanted to think about, in all honesty. She didn’t want to think about what he had asked of her, what she had been prepared to do, what had … what it might have cost her.

She didn’t want to think about any of that. She didn’t want to try and reconcile in her head the great hero of Ozpin’s Stand, the figure of authority, the defender of the world, with the man who had, however gravely and solemnly, however filled with regret his voice had been, who had nevertheless asked that of her.

Pyrrha was not Sunset, to reject the idea that they might be called upon to make sacrifices; as a huntress, as a warrior, it might one day be her fate to flee in anger down to the shades. But to die in the dark, unknown, unheralded, unwitnessed, facing no foe, crafting no legend, that was utterly alien to the Mistralian mindset. To die at all was something to be avoided, but to die in such a way … Professor Ozpin had asked her to commit herself to oblivion.

Even though it was for a worthy cause, for the worthiest cause, nevertheless … she did not want to think about it. Or him, at the moment.

So she kept her focus upon Amber, adding, “That blouse is very lovely; that detailing in particular is very fine.”

Amber smiled at her, a smile that robbed the scars upon her face of some of their harshness. “Thank you. I added that myself.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

Amber nodded. “Un— Ozpin brought me the lace from Vale, or actually, I think it’s from Mistral originally, but Ozpin got in Vale, and I added the decoration onto my shoulders and collar; before that, it was just a little bit too plain.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. She chuckled. “You did not make the armour yourself as well, did you?”

The smile faded from Amber’s face, bringing her scars back into sharp relief; they seemed especially prevalent around and beneath her left eye, forming a dark mass where the individual marks became indistinguishable, so that when Amber’s face fell, it looked as though she were weeping horribly, all of her tears flooding out of that one eye and pooling beneath it before spreading out across her face.

Weeping, or bleeding.

Amber raised her left arm to her right shoulder, the hand beneath which sat her vambrace lightly touching her shoulder pauldron.

“The armour … no,” she murmured. “No, the armour was given to me.”

Like your magic.

“I … I didn’t mean to upset you,” Pyrrha said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Amber looked back up at her. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s just… I didn’t really want to learn to fight, but my mother insisted. I didn’t understand why.”

Pyrrha chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny?” Amber asked.

“Nothing,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I just … know a little about mothers forcing you to learn things that you might not choose otherwise. Of course, you don’t have to wear the armour if you don’t want to.”

Amber glanced at her shoulder pauldron. “What if she comes back?”

Pyrrha didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was. “Then I will make her regret it.”

“She’s very strong,” Amber said.

Stronger still since you met her last. “I … am not without strength myself,” Pyrrha said, “and regardless of Cinder’s power, I will not allow any harm to come to you by her hands, or any others, while I live.” She reached out, taking Amber’s right hand, her free hand, the hand that was not resting upon her pauldron, in both of her own hands, resting her brown-gloved fingertips upon Amber’s golden bracelets. “If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. I swear it by the seas and the skies and on the honour of my name of Nikos long-renowned.”

Amber stared up at her, eyes wide. “Why … why would you say something like that? Why would you promise that?”

“Because…” Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. “Because I am a Mistralian, and I’m afraid we have a terrible weakness for the dramatic. Because you are important, and because it would be a terrible thing were you to … were you to fall, and that was not an intentional play on words, I swear it; because you are in danger, and a huntress should fight for those who are imperilled. Because I am a warrior, and it is my part to fight. Because Cinder is my enemy, and it is my part to oppose her.” Because Cinder claims to be the spirit of Mistral, to embody our values, to be the inheritor of our traditions; and as the spirit of Mistral, as the embodiment of what it means to be Mistralian, she put those awful wounds upon your face and tore your aura. If that is what it means to be Mistralian, then woe unto us; does not Mistral deserve to be destroyed if the true heir of its spirit is so sunk into malice?

I would prove that our values are of a finer sort, the only way that I know how.

“Because…” she went on, “I say it because I would do it.”

“You don’t even know me,” Amber said.

“That could change,” Pyrrha remarked. “If you wish it so.” She smiled. “My name is Pyrrha Nikos, and I say once more that it is an honour to meet you.”

“Because I am the Fall Maiden,” Amber murmured.

“Would you prefer that I said it was a pleasure to meet Amber?” Pyrrha asked.

Amber hesitated, before a slight trace of a smile returned to her face. “Yes. Yes, I would like that better.”

“Then it is very nice to meet you, Amber,” Pyrrha said.

Amber’s little chuckle was so little that Pyrrha could barely hear it, but hear it she did, if only faintly. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Pyrrha,” she said, curtsying as she spoke, the toe of one armoured boot tapping lightly upon the linoleum of the bathroom floor as she did so. “You said that you were a Mistralian? That’s someone from Mistral, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

Amber nodded. “Can I sit down? You might think this sounds silly, but I feel a little tired, and my legs are heavy.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, backing away, turning aside, leading Amber gently towards Sunset’s bed — Amber’s bed. They both sat down upon it, the mattress crumpling somewhat beneath their combined weight, Pyrrha’s sash dropping down to rest upon the floor at her feet.

Amber placed her right hand on top of Pyrrha’s knuckles, her fingertips upon Pyrrha’s vambrace. “What’s it like?” she asked. “Mistral, I mean. U— Ozpin told me a little about it, and he made it sound…”

Pyrrha waited a moment. “He made it sound what?”

“He … he made it sound very grand,” Amber said. “So grand that I wanted to see it for myself one day, but then it was as though he was afraid that he’d made it sound too grand, and then he told me it was not so great and that if I ever came to it, I should count myself very unfortunate. I think he was just trying to keep me where I was, so that he could control me better.”

“That … is a harsh judgement of his motives,” Pyrrha said quietly. “In truth, Mistral is not a paradise. There are those, like my friend Arslan, who grow up in poverty, under the shadow of crime and want. Certainly, Professor Ozpin spoke true when he described the city as having a dark side; though I know little of it myself, it does have a reputation which goes before it into Remnant.” In that sense, though she would hate to hear it I’m sure, Cinder is a true Mistralian, though a true Mistralian of the lower slopes rather than sprung out of The Mistraliad. “But to say that you would be unfortunate to ever find yourself in Mistral … there, Professor Ozpin has misled you, and done my city wrong besides. For if Mistral has a dark side, then it is a shadow cast by a radiant light which shines down from above. Mistral … I speak with all the fondness of a native daughter, and perhaps you should remember that before you take my word for it, but to me, there are few sights more pleasing to the eye or stirring to the soul than the sight of Mistral from the air as an airship carries me home. The whole city is built upon a great mountain, layer upon layer cut into the rock, and atop the very pinnacle, like a spear raised in salute towards the sky, stands the White Tower, where of old, the watchers would look out for the return of our princes and our heroes from their wars and adventures. ‘Now all her princes are come home again, come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them; naught shall make us rue, while Mistral shall to Mistral’s self be true.’”

“Is that poetry?” Amber asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “It’s Aeschylus; he is a little out of fashion these days, but I find that for traditional — one might call them old-fashioned — sentiments, he cannot be bettered by any of the newer writers.” She paused. “In any case, where was I?”

“The view,” Amber said, “is it beautiful?”

“Very much so,” Pyrrha confirmed. “Especially at the break of day, when the sunlight rises up the city like a great wave sweeping in from the east, making the temples and the palaces gleam before lastly coming to the White Tower itself which glows like polished alabaster, it … it is magnificent, and beautiful. And once you land in the city, there is much beauty to be admired, as I say the temples, whether they are still in use or no … immense columns hold up the roofs, rising heavenward to bear a weight like the firmament upon themselves, statues of gold and bronze, of painted marble and of Imperial porphyr—”

“Statues of what?” interrupted Amber.

“Gods, heroes,” Pyrrha said, “nymphs of the rivers and spirits of the sky, guardians of fountains and protectors of the woods, all manner of things honoured in stone or metal.”

“Ozpin told me that Mistral is the heart of fashion,” Amber said, “that there are no more beautiful outfits than those that come from there. Is that true?”

“Oh, without doubt,” Pyrrha agreed. “Would you like to see some examples?”

Amber’s eyes lit up. “Could I?”

Pyrrha laughed brightly. “Stay right there,” she said as she got up from off the bed and whirled on one toe, her crimson sash flying around her as she turned away from Amber and walked to the closet on the far side of the dorm room, flinging it open to reveal all the clothes stored within.

Of which, it had to be admitted, the greatest part were hers.

Pyrrha considered for a moment, and then stepped somewhat into the walk-in closet, reaching out with one hand to grab the black and green dress that she had worn to visit Jaune’s family in Alba Longa. It did not have the belt or the cape, but it was nevertheless a pretty dress; at least, she thought so — and Jaune had thought so too — and so, she lifted it off the rail and pulled it towards her, turning in place to face Amber as held the dress up in front of her.

Amber’s eyes widened as she clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh my goodness, how lovely!”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Pyrrha agreed. “And that’s not all.” She put the green and black dress back in the closet and drew out the red dress, with the long slit sleeves that did not cover the arms at all but rather fell down off the shoulders towards the floor, the one that she had worn to dinner with Jaune’s family after she had won their acceptance at last. That dress, she presented to Amber in turn, once more holding it up in front of herself.

“That looks wonderful too,” Amber declared. “But I think I prefer the green one.”

“Do you?”

Amber nodded. “It’s a little plainer, but still I … I think it’s more beautiful.”

“It is prettier, if not so plain, with the belt around the waist,” Pyrrha remarked. “You could try it on, if you like?”

“Really?” Amber said. “But it’s yours.”

“And as it is mine, I’m offering to let you wear it, if you wish,” Pyrrha said.

Amber smiled. “Oh, thank you!” she said, starting to get up. “That would be…” She stopped, sinking back down onto the bed. “No,” she said, more quietly. “No, thank you. That … that’s very kind of you, but no.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “It would be no trouble at all, I assure you.”

“I said no!” Amber snapped. She looked away, hugging herself with both hands, shivering a little. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dropping even as she bowed her head. “But no. No thank you.”

Pyrrha swallowed. “Very well,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want to impose, after all.” She put the red dress back in the closet and shut the door. She had a feeling Amber wouldn’t want to see any more of her wardrobe.

“Mistral sounds very beautiful,” Amber said. “Beautiful and wonderful and … and I wish I could see it for myself.”

I could take you there, if you like, Pyrrha thought. We could all go, once the Vytal Festival is over, all five of us. Only the thought of what Professor Ozpin might say held her tongue; he might not want to let Amber leave Vale, to go so far beyond his reach, to entrust her only to the care of Team SAPR.

Amber was still turned away from Pyrrha, presenting her back as she embraced herself, back bent, trembling as though it had turned cold.

Poor girl, Pyrrha thought, and suddenly, the idea of what Professor Ozpin might wish seemed to matter a little less; certainly, they mattered a little less than the girl in front of her who had suffered so very much, and who even now stood in grave peril.

But she would be as safe in Mistral as in Vale, would she not? More, perhaps, since Cinder was not in Mistral. Although she might go there easily enough, and Salem had other servants no doubt.

And, with no offence to Polemarch Yeoh, perhaps to call Mistral as safe as Vale is a little optimistic at present.

Of old, it was said that in Mistral, five hundred swords would leap from their scabbards to avenge the merest flush of outrage on a fair maid’s cheek; would that it were so now, then what would Amber have to fear of Cinder or all the rest of Salem’s lackeys?

Yet wishing will not make it so.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha walked back towards Amber and said, “Perhaps we might visit one day, if you wish, the five of us?”

Amber looked at her. “'The five of us'?”

“You, me, and the rest of my team: Sunset, Jaune, and Ruby,” Pyrrha explained. “I already took my teammates for a visit during the spring break, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind going back again with you. I … I cannot say exactly when we might go; I think it would have to wait until … until things had calmed down a little, until they were safe, but—”

“I’ll never be safe,” Amber said in a voice that was half moan, half murmur. “I’ll always be in danger. They’ll always be after me.”

“Perhaps not,” Pyrrha replied. “And at least perhaps not as … urgently. You’ll always have to take care, maybe, but … but that’s why we would go with you, not only to show you the delights of my home but also to keep you safe.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure that day will ever come,” she said. “But all the same … you’re really very kind.”

“I try to be,” Pyrrha said, “especially to those who are so … deserving of kindness as you.”

Amber did not look at her, nor did she speak for a moment. “Pyrrha,” she said, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, “anything you like.”

“You … you know, don’t you?” Amber asked. “You know everything, about the Maidens, and magic, and Salem, all of it?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied, a little stiffly. “Yes, we know everything: the four of us, and Blake, and our friends of Team Rosepetal from Atlas. Professor Ozpin told us all.” Eventually, at least.

“And you serve him?” asked Amber. “You serve Ozpin, the four of you?”

Pyrrha nodded. “We do. He asked for our assistance at a moment of need, when he had no one else to turn to.”

Amber fell silent again. “Why?”

“Why?” Pyrrha repeated. “Why do we serve Professor Ozpin?”

“Why do you fight?” Amber asked, looking at Pyrrha now, full in the face. “Why do you risk your lives like this, fighting a battle that can never be won, when the only thing that can be done is to hide away and hope that no one finds you, when you might die for someone who uses you and lies to you and who doesn’t care about you except for what he can get out of you, why do you … why do you fight at all?” She paused. “I’ve never liked fighting. My mother and Ozpin told me that I had to learn, and so I did. They even told me that I was good at it, and maybe I was, maybe … there was a moment, when she came for me, when I thought that I was going to win, when it seemed like they were going to fall before me, but … maybe I am good at it, or maybe I was, at least, but I never liked it. I never liked it, not one bit; I never wanted to do it; I only learnt because they made me. Why do you fight? Why do you choose to be here?”

“Those are … interrelated questions,” Pyrrha replied. “But not exactly the same.”

She walked back to Amber, not sitting down but standing over her, looking down on her. Looking down while she wondered where to begin. With her family? With her name and its proud history? No, Amber might not understand that, and besides, it was quite refreshing to speak to someone who had absolutely no idea of who she was. With her sense of destiny? No, that would sound too vainglorious. What then? How to explain it?

“I hardly know where to begin,” Pyrrha murmured. “But perhaps on the most belly-to-earth level … I enjoy it. I like winning, and my skill has won me some measure of acclaim in the arenas of my home. I have not always enjoyed the attention, but I find that I do enjoy being the best, being seen as the best, being respected for the skills to which I have devoted myself.”

“That doesn’t explain why you chose those skills,” Amber said. “Couldn’t you have done something else?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “My mother, like yours, might have had something to say about that,” she said. “But more than that … I fight because it is my duty to do so. As a skilled warrior, if I do say so myself, it is my obligation to fight on behalf of those who are or would be less capable, to fight the battles that they cannot, to be a champion for them, a hero, a benefactor to mankind. That is why I am here, that is why I fight, that is why I serve Professor Ozpin, though the odds be great and a final victory out of sight and hopeless. Though all those things be true, they do not alter what I owe to Mistral and to Remnant: my sword and shield, my shoulder and my soul—”

“And your life,” Amber whispered.

Pyrrha nodded gravely. “If it comes to it.”

“And it’s that simple?” Amber asked. “You can say those things and … and mean it? You can say those things, and you are not afraid?”

“I am not without fear,” Pyrrha admitted, “but equally, I hope that I am not without courage.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “I was afraid,” she admitted. “I didn’t ask for this, for any of this. I don’t owe anyone anything; why do you think that you owe so much, where does your duty come from?”

“From the fact that I have had a life of luxury and privilege, given everything that I could want or wish for,” Pyrrha said. “I must repay however I can, and this is the only way.”

Amber stared up at her. “You speak so strangely to my ears,” she whispered.

Pyrrha laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. “That is because I am from Mistral, I’m afraid. If you come to visit — when you come, if you still wish to — then I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to the fact that many people speak thus. Mind you, if you spend enough time around Sunset and myself, you will grow well used to it long ere you set eyes upon the White Tower — used to it, or sick of it perhaps, I cannot say which.”

Amber giggled, covering her own mouth in turn, her shoulders quivering up and down. “'Oh, brave new world,'” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Amber said quickly. “It’s just … something from a book that Un— that Ozpin gave me. 'Oh, brave new world that has such people in it.'”

“Well, I wouldn’t…” Pyrrha trailed off, finally sitting down beside Amber once more. “You must have been very fond of Professor Ozpin once, to have called him Uncle.” She smiled. “Or perhaps I have misunderstood completely and you once called him Ungulate Ozpin or something of that sort.”

Amber didn’t smile, but then, it had been an appallingly bad attempt at humour.

“I loved him once,” she confessed. “When I thought he loved me too. Before I understood.”

Pyrrha looked away from her, looking at the wall and the open door into the bathroom. “I too have been somewhat disappointed in the professor of late,” she admitted. “And yet, I believe that he means to do good for the world.”

“'For the world,'” Amber said. “But not for me, not for you, not for us. I hate him.” She frowned. “But I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to think about him. I wish he wasn’t here. I wish that I’d never met him.” She clasped her hands together, resting them upon her knees. “What’s it like?”

“What … is what like?” asked Pyrrha. “I’m afraid that I don’t follow.”

“A life of luxury and privilege,” Amber said. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? That’s the life you had, in Mistral. That’s the life you gave up to come here and fight.”

“It is not so simple as all that,” Pyrrha said. “My life is still one of luxury and privilege, just in a different setting, and perhaps in a different manner. It was — it is — wonderful in some respects, I will not deny it. You have seen some of the wonderfulness of it already: an expansive wardrobe filled with the finest fashions of Mistral and Atlas. Maids to attend to my needs. The finest weapons created by the master craftsmen of the city. I grew up in a great house, with a large garden … and was never allowed to forget the debt that I owed, the legacy of those who came before that it was my duty to live up to: service, valour … and, if necessary, sacrifice.” She could have gone on, talking about the jealousy, the desire on the part of some to see her brought low, to find some chink in her armour, to chip away at her statue, but she did not wish to speak thus, nor did she think that Amber really wished to hear it. Instead, Pyrrha said, “And what of you? Where did you grow up?”

“In a cabin in the woods, with my mother,” Amber replied. “We … I would say we grew our own food in our garden, but that isn’t strictly true. Well, it is true, but…” She leaned closer to Pyrrha and spoke in a whisper, as though she were confessing some grave secret. “Mother used her magic to make the vegetables grow, so it wasn’t really as hard work as saying that we grew our own food makes it sound.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother … she was a Maiden?” Of course she was, she realised after a moment’s thought; that was how Amber had acquired the powers despite not wishing them.

A mother’s last thoughts of her daughter.

Amber nodded. “She was the Fall Maiden. She didn’t seem to mind, but … but if she hadn’t been, then maybe we wouldn’t have had to live in the woods all alone, hiding from Ozpin’s enemies.”

“Was it a hard life?”

“No,” Amber said quickly, shaking her head. “No, it … it was quite wonderful, really. Not like your life in Mistral at all, but all the same, quite wonderful. We didn’t just grow vegetables but flowers too, roses and violets and camelias. Mother didn’t use her magic on those; we actually had to work to make them grow, only it didn’t seem like work, but fun, tending to them, watering them, watching them spring out of the ground and bloom so beautifully. Because I didn’t have to work to make the cabbages or the cauliflowers grow, I had lots of time to read and sketch and sing — when Mother and Ozpin weren’t making me train, anyway. There was an old ruined chapel near our home, from when there used to be a village there, but it was abandoned and swallowed up by the woods.” Amber paused a moment. “I used to love to go there, to walk in the ruins. There wasn’t a lot left, a few walls that were falling down, some bits of stone here and there, and a statue; a statue of a woman. I don’t know who she was, even Ozpin didn’t know, but she looked so beautiful, so serene, and when I was there, it was like she was always looking down at me, at me specifically, with so much kindness.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Like you.”

Pyrrha let out a little gasping chuckle. “I am not made of stone,” she pointed out.

“No,” Amber admitted. “But … I used to go there and sing. It always felt so…”

“Melancholy?” Pyrrha suggested.

“I suppose,” Amber replied. “But at the same time, I always used to love it there. There was so much peace. So much calm. It was like its own world, that nothing could disturb and nothing bad could happen. Like the statue was watching over me and keeping everything else bay, everything bad anyway. That was one of the things I wanted to go back to.”

She held out her hand, reaching towards Pyrrha without actually touching her.

Pyrrha took her hand once more, squeezing it not too tightly, but gently and — she hoped — reassuringly.

She was curious about what Amber had said, about her mother using the magic of the Maidens to grow vegetables. It made sense, of course; it fit with the story of the original Maidens — they had, after all, revitalised the old man’s garden and brought forth nature’s bounty from it — but it was not something that she had considered before. It was not something that she associated with a great leader or a figure of inspiration.

That is because I am too privileged in upbringing, no doubt. I am sure that to many, the ability to bring forth vegetables out of the earth without much back-breaking labour would be the most inspiring thing they could ever behold.

And, really, what are the powers for if not for such as that? To war? That was not something the original four sisters did, that was not something that inspired the old man and moved him to create the Maidens in the first place, that was … something given to protect them, if it was an intended side-effect at all.

I think, now that I do think on it, that what Amber’s mother did was more in keeping with the intent of he who granted the magic to the First Maidens than anything that I have seen Cinder do, or could have imagined doing with such power myself.

Save, of course, that they were wielded in secret only.

She said, “Amber— makeup!”

Amber jumped a little. “What?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You came out of the bathroom asking about borrowing either mine or Sunset’s makeup, and then we got to talking and completely forgot about it.”

Amber blinked. “Oh, yes. Yes, I suppose we did, didn’t we?” She looked away. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no point anyway.”

Pyrrha frowned slightly. First the dress, and now this. “Amber,” she said gently, “is something wrong?”

Amber hesitated for a moment, and then for a moment more, before she said, “Isn’t it obvious? What would I do with pretty dresses or with makeup? Look at me! Look at what she did to me. Look at … I’m hideous.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, you aren’t hideous.”

“Yes, I am; look—”

“I am looking,” Pyrrha said, and with her free hand, she reached out and touched Amber’s cheek, turning her head so that Amber was looking at her, and she was looking straight at Amber.

“I see,” Pyrrha said, “a pair of very striking eyes—”

“Set in a ruined face,” Amber said.

“That is not your fault or your doing.”

“But it is my shame,” Amber whispered.

“'Shame'?” Pyrrha repeated. She shook her head. “No, never shame. You should not be ashamed.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you’re beautiful,” Amber said.

Pyrrha had to concede that that was, or at least might be, true. If their positions were reversed, she probably wouldn’t enjoy having the marks of what had been done to her permanently upon her face for all to see either.

“Makeup may conceal it, if you wish,” she suggested. “Although, since both Sunset and I have a paler complexion than you do, I’m not sure that we have the right kind of makeup to suit you. But I do know who will.”

“Who?” Amber asked.

“Ciel Soleil, one of our Atlesian friends,” Pyrrha replied. “She’s always very well put together, and of your colouring; I’ve no doubt that she has something that will suit you perfectly. If you don’t mind, I’ll ask her to come and join us.”

“Is there any point?” asked Amber.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Pyrrha said. “You wouldn’t have asked about borrowing our makeup if you didn’t want to look your best, and maybe you can, with Ciel’s help.”

Amber hesitated a moment. “If you say that she’s alright,” she murmured, “then very well, let her come.”

“Excellent,” Pyrrha said quietly. “I’ll just send her a message.”

She turned away and swiftly got out her scroll asking Ciel if she wouldn’t mind coming down to the SAPR dorm room — and bring her makeup with her for Amber.

It did not take long at all — barely after Pyrrha had sent the message — for Ciel to reply that she would be with them directly.

“She’s on her way,” Pyrrha announced as she turned back to face Amber once again, her sash whirling around her as she turned.

“I see,” Amber said, without too much enthusiasm; perhaps she still didn’t believe that much could come from it. She looked past Pyrrha, her eyes glancing around the room. She saw something of interest, although Pyrrha couldn’t immediately tell what it was, and craned her neck to get a better look at it, rising just an inch or two up off the bed. “Is that a guitar?”

Pyrrha looked around to see where Amber was looking: Jaune’s guitar was stored underneath his bed, but the head was just sticking out at present, visible from where Amber was sitting.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it is.”

“Is it yours?”

“No, it belongs to Jaune,” Pyrrha explained. “I don’t know how to play any instruments — I never had the time to learn — but Jaune plays very well indeed.”

“Can he sing, too?”

Pyrrha beamed. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, he has quite the delightful voice.”

“Does he—?” Amber began, before she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“I expect that will be Ciel,” Pyrrha said, walking to the door and opening it.

It was indeed Ciel, with a bag hanging from her arm which Pyrrha guessed contained her cosmetics, but she was not alone; Blake stood half a step behind her.

“Blake,” Pyrrha said, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“Your message mentioned makeup for Amber,” Ciel said. “I do not wear eyeshadow, but since Blake has a similar eye-colour to Amber, I thought that she might be able to assist in that regard.”

“I’m not sure they are as similar as all that,” Pyrrha said. “Blake’s eyes are gold; Amber’s eyes are, well, amber.”

“I might be able to help,” Blake said. “Plus, I should probably admit that I’m just a bit curious, since I’m the only one who hasn’t met Amber yet.”

“Well, come in, both of you,” Pyrrha said, retreating to let them in. “Amber, this is our friend Blake.”

“Blake Belladonna,” Blake said, as she shut the door behind her. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Amber said politely. “Both of you. I mean, we didn’t really meet down … down there, did we?”

“I suppose not,” Ciel said. She curtsied. “Ciel Soleil, at your service. Now, I understand you would like some assistance making up your face.”

“Apart from anything else, neither Sunset or I have the right supplies for Amber’s needs,” Pyrrha said. “On account of—”

“The relative pallor your complexions, yes, I see,” Ciel answered before Pyrrha could finish. She walked closer, past Pyrrha to approach Amber. “I … take it you would like to mitigate these tokens of Cinder Fall’s esteem?”

“Can you hide them?” Amber asked. “Completely?”

“'Completely'?” Ciel repeated. “I know not, but I can certainly try.” She opened her bag. “What kind of affect do you usually wear? What kind of look do you aim at?”

“Velvet finish,” Amber said. “I should like to glow. If that’s still possible.”

“Very few things are impossible when an Atlesian puts their mind to it,” Ciel declared. “Now, I usually aim for a more natural matte finish, but I believe that we may achieve a glow with the right application of product. Let us start with some foundation.” She pulled a round compact out of her back, opening it up with a snap to reveal the brown foundation within. “Hold still; don’t move.”

Amber assumed a rigid posture, back straight, hands clasped together.

Ciel bent down, almost bent double as she began to apply the foundation layer to Amber’s face, obscuring her scars; she did not, could not, hide them completely, at least not yet, but nevertheless, the starkness with which they stood out was greatly reduced, a casual observer from a distance might miss them.

As Ciel worked, Amber’s eyes turned their gaze upon Pyrrha once again. “Does Jaune write you love songs?”

“I take it that this is a continuation of your previous conversation, otherwise that would be a little out of nowhere,” Blake observed.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Amber caught sight of Jaune’s guitar. But the answer is no, he’s never written me a song.”

“That’s a pity,” Amber said. “He ought to have.”

“Not everyone can write songs, even if they can play them,” Ciel observed.

“I know, but it doesn’t have to be the best song, so long as it comes from the heart,” Amber declared. She kept her gaze on Pyrrha. “Sunset said that Jaune was your boyfriend.”

Pyrrha nodded. “That’s right, yes.”

“And that you love each other,” Amber went on, “which Sunset said not all … not all girls and their boyfriends love one another.”

“Girlfriend is the feminine,” Ciel murmured.

“That is correct,” Pyrrha said, speaking to Amber rather than Ciel. “I am very fortunate, and well aware of my good fortune.”

“When Sunset says that you love him,” Amber said softly, as soft as a breeze that cools the heat of a summer day, “is he your true love?”

“That’s a phrase rarely spoken,” Blake said.

“What is?” Amber asked.

“True love,” Blake explained. “It’s a very romantic idea, but … a fanciful one, better suited to stories than to real life. You won’t find many takers for it in this day and age.”

“Yet you will find one in this room,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune may not have fallen in love with me at first sight, but from the moment that I set eyes on him, there was … something about him, if only how bright and blue and how beautiful his eyes were, that drew me to him. And then, as I came to know him better, I saw how much more was in him to love, and thank goodness and the wind and sky and all the old gods of my home he came to see the same in me.

“I am not one to put too much stock in an inescapable fate, but within our choosings … Jaune is my destiny, and I am his, and for my part — and I dearly hope for his part as well — I will love none other than him for all my days. If that is not true love, then I would ask you all, what is?”

Amber smiled, as much as Ciel’s work would allow her to. “When Jaune gets back, I’d love to hear all about how the two of you met and fell in love. And then I can ask him why he hasn’t written you a love song yet.”

Pyrrha laughed. “Jaune doesn’t have to do that; he shows his devotion to me in myriad enough other ways already.”

“But it’s so romantic!” Amber insisted. “I wrote a song for Dove … although he never got to hear it.”

Blake frowned slightly. “Dove?”

Amber nodded vigorously.

“Please hold still,” Ciel said.

“Sorry,” Amber repeated. “Dove is my love. He was my love. He … I don’t know where he is, or whether he’s still alive, or whether he still … whether he still remembers me. I’ve … been asleep for a while, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Blake murmured. “But I’m surprised you’re aware of that.”

“I wasn’t awake,” Amber said softly. “But I was dreaming. I was dreaming for a long time, and while I dreamed … I could feel myself … if it hadn’t been for Sunset, I don’t think I could have lasted much longer.”

“I’m not sure of the exact dates, but I believe it has been about a year that you have slept,” Pyrrha said, “but if Dove really is your true love, then he would wait ten years or more and not forget you. Is that not what true love means?”

“Then where is he?” Amber asked. “He said he’d meet me here, when I went away, when Ozpin told me to come to Beacon, when I … when I became the Fall Maiden. He told me that he’d follow and come to Beacon himself, but Sunset said he isn’t here.”

Sunset, why would you lie to her? Why wouldn’t you tell her that there is a Dove in this school, in our very year? It was not certain, admittedly, that Amber’s Dove and Dove Bronzewing of Team BLBL were one and the same, and Sunset had been in a position to know more about this Dove than Pyrrha was, having seen into Amber’s soul and mind and memories; perhaps it was a completely different person unknown to them.

But the similarities were too great for Pyrrha to dismiss.

“Did Dove … want to become a huntsman?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes,” Amber said, managing not to nod this time. “He was so chivalrous, like a knight out of the old stories; he wanted to help those in need. He was … he was a lot like you, Pyrrha. He had this book, about a brave knight called Olivia who rode around the kingdom fighting monsters and bringing justice. He wanted to be just like her.”

That settled it; it was Dove Bronzewing, without a doubt. And Sunset would have known that better than Pyrrha did, yet she had lied about it. No doubt that she had meant well, as Sunset almost always meant well, but all the same…

“You loved him,” she whispered.

Amber closed her eyes for a moment. “With all my heart.”

And he is here, so close to you, and yet you are both unaware.

The decision was an easy one. The decision required no thought at all on Pyrrha’s part. She thought of what Sunset had told her, when the decision to take Amber’s soul and magic had been put to her: that Jaune deserved to know about her decision before she made it, deserved to know to what fate she was committing herself. If he had disappeared without trace for a year, or longer, if he had gone away, and they had made plans to reunite, but then, when she came to the appointed spot, he had not been there, then she would want to know what had become of him; more than that, she would give anything to see him again. She hoped that Jaune would feel the same way.

Does he think her dead, like Pylades finding Deianeira’s bloody shawl upon the hillside? Does he think that she perished on the way and never reached Beacon? Will she start to believe the same, thinking he is not here?

It was intolerable. It was not to be borne. She could not leave Amber, or Dove for that matter, to languish in ignorance, to wonder without knowing. She could not leave them to be sundered so; the romantic in her would not bear it.

“Blake, Ciel,” she said, “will you please stay and watch over Amber for a little while? I need to step outside.”

Blake was looking at her, eyes narrowed somewhat; Pyrrha was certain that Blake, too, realised that it was certainly Dove Bronzewing who was Amber’s love, who had promised to meet her here and who had kept his promise, little knowing that Amber had been delayed by Cinder’s malice.

Blake was not quite such a romantic as Pyrrha was, but she did not attempt to persuade Pyrrha not to do this. She simply gave a brisk nod of the head and said quietly, “Of course. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Ciel might not be so certain as to who Dove was as the two of them, but she glanced briefly over her shoulder and said, “And I, too.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Pyrrha said, although in truth, if Ciel had been on her own Pyrrha might not have left her; no offence to Ciel, but Pyrrha did not think that she was a brilliant close-quarters fighter, whereas Blake was very talented in that regard. Amber would be safe in her charge, no doubt, at least for a little while.

“Where are you going?” asked Amber plaintively.

“Oh, I just need to step out for a short while,” Pyrrha told her, because would it not be the most wonderful surprise? “I’ll be back very soon, I promise.”

“Alright,” Amber replied. “I’ll be here.”

Pyrrha smiled at her, then turned away, walking to the door and then walking out into the corridor.

She turned in the direction of Team BLBL’s dorm room.

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha stopped and twisted her body around to look over her shoulder behind her. Sunset stood there, a slight furrow on her brow, her tail swishing backwards and forwards.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “I’m … going to see Dove.”

“Ah,” Sunset said. “So you’ve found out then?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied, a touch of stiffness in her voice. “Amber has not concealed the fact. She has been free with it, and free with the fact that you told her Dove was not to be found.”

Sunset reached behind her, scratching her head. “Something I felt was necessary until I’d spoken with Professor Ozpin—”

“Since when do you need to consult with Professor Ozpin before you act?” Pyrrha asked. “Do you not think that Amber has a right to know? You must know better than I how well she loves him—”

“And that is why I counselled Professor Ozpin that they should be allowed to meet,” Sunset said, before Pyrrha could go on any further, “and he has accepted the wisdom of my argument.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I … see,” she murmured. “You make me feel an ass for misjudging you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sunset assured her. “You … I’m surprised you were just going to go and break the news to her without asking anyone’s permission.”

“I don’t need Professor Ozpin’s permission to do what is right,” Pyrrha said. She then realised abruptly that that could be taken as a knock on Sunset, and so she added, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine; it’s all fine,” Sunset told her, holding her hands up. “I get it. I sort of get it. You two must have hit it off in there while I was gone.”

Pyrrha smiled. “She’s a very nice girl,” she said. “Kind, I think, although she has had little opportunity to do me kindness; nevertheless, she is kindly spoken, polite and gentle in her words. Romantic, as I am, someone who would enjoy fine things if she possessed any. Sweet, and scared, and vulnerable. I would need a harder heart than I possess to be blind or deaf to her plight and not to wish to help her how I can. And since I cannot challenge Cinder to a battle to the death a second time, and so banish her shadow from over Amber … I can at least reunite her with her love.” She paused a moment. “You were in her soul; does she love him as much as she seems to?”

Sunset smirked. “Oh, yes, absolutely.” She sighed. “Of course, that doesn’t answer the question of whether he loves her.”

“Can it be doubted?” Pyrrha asked.

“Can it be taken for granted?” asked Sunset in response.

Pyrrha smiled. “Sun, Ren, excellent ladies will always acquire a devoted young man who will not stray.” No matter how much provocation they are offered, in Sun’s case.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose, and a smile played across her lips as she said, “To which list we might add Jaune, no?”

“That would require me to call myself an excellent lady,” Pyrrha pointed out, “and I would not wish to be thought too egotistical.”

Sunset shook her head. “So, we will put our trust in Dove.”

“And our trust in love,” Pyrrha added.

“Professor Ozpin fears that a weak reed on which to place his hopes,” Sunset murmured.

“And yet, what is love but a form of devotion?” Pyrrha said. “And why are we here, what do we fight for, if not because we are devoted to something, we love something, that drives us on? If love cannot be trusted, then how can any of us possess his faith?”

Sunset glanced away for a moment, not replying, until she said, “Well, as I told you, Professor Ozpin has agreed that Dove should find out the truth.”

“I am glad,” Pyrrha said. “Although I would have told them anyway, nevertheless … I am glad that he agrees with us. To think that he would choose to keep them apart … I told Amber that he was not a cruel man, and it gladdens my heart that I have not been proven wrong so quickly.” She paused. “You went to Professor Ozpin to win this right, so I will return inside and grant you the honour.”

“'Honour'?”

“Amber will be delighted, I’ve no doubt,” Pyrrha said.

“Indeed,” Sunset murmured. “In truth, I think that is one reason why Professor Ozpin is allowing this. I pointed out to him the consequences if … well, if you had gone to Dove yourself and I had seemed like a liar in her eyes. As it is, she will be grateful … but there is no reason we should not share in her delight.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t desire to hoard it to myself; the more she likes us all, the better,” Sunset replied. “And besides, you were going to go and do this thing even without permission; some might say that makes you nobler than I.”

“And some might say that you are wiser than myself,” Pyrrha countered, “but let us go together then, as swift as fairies girding the surface of the world, and bring these two young lovers to a meeting place.”

Sunset chuckled. “I think you relish this prospect, don’t you?”

“I do,” Pyrrha admitted. “So much so that I would not delay any further. Shall we?”

Sunset surprised Pyrrha somewhat by taking her arm, placing her gloved hand upon Pyrrha’s elbow as the two of them began to walk down the corridor.

Sunset glanced up at her. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Not at all,” she said. “With regards to my enthusiasm, I don’t see how anyone could call themselves a romantic and not be moved both to sympathy with Amber — and with Dove, poor Dove, what he must have suffered this past year.”

“He did not seem to be suffering too greatly,” Sunset pointed out.

“All the more reason to admire him keeping his pain so well concealed,” Pyrrha said.

“Is it good to keep pain concealed?” asked Sunset.

“Probably not,” Pyrrha conceded. “But one must admire the effort nonetheless. In any event, as I said, as a romantic … how can I not be excited at this? How can I not wish to see them reunited?”

Sunset said nothing; she only chuckled lightly as they went along.

Team BLBL did not reside as close by to the SAPR dorm room as Team YRBN did; in fact, they were slightly further away than Team WWSR, but nevertheless, they were in the same building, and it did not take Pyrrha and Sunset long at all to reach their room and stand in front of their door.

The BLBL door had a lark badge pinned to it, made of silver, a reminder to all visitors of what they had lost and explanation of why they were reduced in number.

Pyrrha knocked upon the door.

The door opened. Bon Bon stood in the doorway, regarding her with a wariness that Pyrrha could not help but feel she did not deserve.

“Pyrrha,” Bon Bon said cautiously. “Can I help you…?” — her voice cooled noticeably upon her spotting Sunset — “both of you?”

“Hello,” Pyrrha said. “I was wondering if Dove was here?”

“Yes,” Dove said, appearing into view behind Bon Bon. “Yes, I’m here. Did you need something?”

“Yes, we’d like you to come with me, back to Team Sapphire’s room,” Pyrrha said. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Come with you?” Dove repeated. “Why?”

“Just come with us; it’s best if you see for yourself,” Sunset said. “It’ll be worth it, we promise.”

Dove hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “All right, if you say so.”

“Are you sure?” Bon Bon asked.

“Why not?” Dove asked. “It’s not like Pyrrha’s going to lure me there to pull a prank or something, is it?”

“I … suppose not,” Bon Bon murmured, getting out of the way and letting Dove leave the dorm room.

He shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Bon Bon is … Sky’s death has left her…”

“Yeah,” Sunset muttered, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

And I am profoundly grateful that we need do no more than imagine, Pyrrha thought.

“It’s been hard on both of them, but on Bon Bon especially,” Dove said.

“And you?” asked Pyrrha.

“I…” Dove trailed off. “When I first came to Beacon, I was … a bit of a mess, emotionally. I tried not to burden Yang or Nora or Ren with it too much, I was worried about what they’d think of me, I didn’t want to be a bother … Lyra and Bon Bon were there for me. They became my strength. Now it’s my turn to be strong for them.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “In any case, please, follow us.”

And Dove did follow, obediently and quietly, not asking her what waited for him in the dorm room, merely following as Pyrrha retraced her steps back to Team SAPR’s room.

“And here we are,” Sunset said.

“So I see,” Dove replied. “But I still don’t see why.”

Pyrrha opened the door for him, and as she did so, she found she could not keep the smile off her face.

“Go inside,” she said. “Please.”

Dove looked a little confused, but he did go in, just as she had bade him do. He went inside, and there beheld her.

“Amber?” His voice was as quiet as a whisper and as loud as a thunderclap, he spoke with shock, and yet, he shocked also, reducing the room — Blake, Ciel, and Amber of course — to silence.

“Dove!” Amber cried, leaping to her feet.

Ciel dropped her makeup, and she and Blake retreated out of the way, leaving a clear path between Dove and Amber.

A path which neither of them took. Rather they stood, Dove in the doorway, Amber by the bed, staring at one another with eyes wide in awed amazement.

“Dove,” Amber said, her voice trembling. “It … it’s you.”

“It is,” Dove said, a smile spreading across his face, delight shining in his eyes of blue. “It is, it’s me, Amber, I—” He took a step towards her.

Amber let out a little shriek as she turned away from him, covering her face with both hands. “No! Come no closer!” she cried, her voice muffled somewhat by her hands. “You … you must not look on me. I … I am not as I was.”

Dove stopped, his hands which had raised up to take her in his arms now falling back to his sides again. “Amber. I came, just as I promised I would. I’ve been here for a year.”

Amber’s only reply was a sort of sobbing sound.

“I looked for you,” Dove said. “I looked for you at the school, and in Vale. I … learned nothing. Amber … where have you been?”

She did not reply.

Dove walked towards her, reaching out to her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders. “Amber, please look at me. Look at me, and let me look on you.”

“No,” Amber replied. “This is not the face that you have dreamt of.”

Dove spun her around on her toes, softly and slowly but inexorably nonetheless, turning her in his direction. He did not speak, nor did anyone else. There was silence in the room — Pyrrha did not even dare to shut the door and so disturb the mood — as Dove took Amber by the arms and slowly pulled them away from her face.

Amber gasped and kept her head bowed, her bobbed hair falling down somewhat to shield it from view.

Dove tilted her chin, so that he looked at him and he could see her; Ciel had done what she could in the time that Pyrrha had given her, but nevertheless, the scars that Cinder had given her were plain to see — or at least, they would be plain for Dove to see, so close to her.

His voice, when it came, was a hoarse whisper, husky; Pyrrha had to strain to hear it. “You are as beautiful as a moonlit night.”

“'Beautiful'?” Amber repeated. “I have been … marked.”

“So is the moon,” Dove said, “but it is still beautiful, though not as beautiful as you.” He stroked her face, cupping her cheek with one hand as he smiled down at her. “And besides, you worry so much, you fear to let me see a face that I have seen before so many times.”

“You have?” Amber gasped. “How? When?”

Dove’s smile broadened and brightened. “Once upon a dream.”

Amber let out a ragged sound, a squealing gasp of delight that might have contained an exclamation of Dove’s name within it as she melted into his arms.

They kissed. Pyrrha barely heard the door shut after her — Sunset must have closed it with her telekinesis — because her attention was so held by the kiss, by the way that Dove held her face in his hands, by the way that Amber threw her arms around his shoulders, by the way that she did not have to rise up on her toes to reach his mouth because the two of them fit as though they had been made for one another. The way his hands moved from her face down her body, pulling her in tight, so tight it was as though he meant to never let her go again.

Pyrrha’s hands clasped together above her heart. I do believe I have done well this day.

They broke apart, if only barely; Dove’s cheeks were flushed, and both he and Amber were breathless. He looked at Pyrrha; they both looked at Pyrrha.

“I stand amazed,” Dove declared. “How is this possible? Surely this is a miracle? To what god should I give thanks, before the thanks that are justly due to you?”

Pyrrha laughed. “A miracle indeed, though from other powers than those of heaven sent.” She paused. “All … all that you need know will be revealed to you, of how this was done and what and why, in time.” That left some latitude in what precisely to tell him, but surely, he would have to be told something; he would not be satisfied else. “But for now, rejoice, be merry, hold each other close, for you are … you are together once again. Let that be enough.”

“Thank you, Pyrrha, and you, Sunset,” Amber said. “This is … it’s just like a dream! How could I ever, why … thank you, so much.”

Sunset bowed with an elaborate flourish of her arms.

Pyrrha curtsied, placing one hand above her heart. “You’re very welcome.”

“Let it be enough,” Dove murmured. He looked at Amber once again. “Yes. Yes, it is more than enough.”

As they kissed again, Pyrrha knew that they had done very well this day.

And whatever befell in consequence, they would not regret it.

Author's Note

The image of Pyrrha and Amber (and I admit that I really wanted a picture of Amber) is by the talented McMystery, who also did the last picture to be featured in this story.

An Autumn's Tale (New)

An Autumn’s Tale

Dove and Amber were stood close together, bodies pressed up against one another; Dove’s hands were upon her arms, just below her shoulders; Amber’s arms were up, snaking around his shoulders to join her hands together behind his neck; Dove’s forehead was bowed low enough that it was touching Amber’s forehead as the two of them stared into one another’s eyes.

It was all rather dreamy to watch.

Or at least Pyrrha thought so as she did, indeed, watch the two of them. She watched as they stood there, looking only at one another, the rest of the world fallen away from them. There were four other people in the room, all with their eyes fixed on Dove and Amber, but for the two of them, none of that mattered. Sunset, Pyrrha, Ciel, Blake; Beacon, Vale, Remnant, Cinder, Maidens, and magic, none of that mattered in this place and in this moment, because here … they were in a world where only two people existed, and each of them was looking at the other.

Amber’s scars didn’t matter either; they hadn’t mattered to her since Dove had confirmed they did not matter to him, and they didn’t matter to Dove because … because he was in love, and so it was Amber’s true self that he beheld, not what Cinder had made of her face.

Pyrrha smiled to look at them. It … it made her happy to see them happy, if that was not too childish a sentiment to put into words.

Her fears on that score were alleviated by how happy Sunset looked, as Pyrrha noted when she briefly glanced at her friend. Sunset was watching the two of them also, her arms folded as she leaned with one shoulder against the dorm room wall. Her tail swished back and forth behind her as though she were trying to sweep the floor with it, and sometimes, the end of her tail would curl up on itself for a moment as though it were leaping.

Sunset’s smile was not wide, but it was bright, one of the brightest that Pyrrha had seen on Sunset for some little time.

Pyrrha thought she understood why this affected them both so, quite apart from the fact that they were both romantics — a fact which Pyrrha felt she might be more willing to admit than Sunset herself — the world was so complex, so messy, and the victories that they might win in the world were partial, incomplete. They were pitted against an enemy they could not defeat, only prevent from winning, and their more immediate, more human enemies often proved themselves to be less easily hated and dismissed than one might wish were the case.

But this? This was something unambiguous. This was a good thing with no downsides, no buts, no costs to mar it, nothing to fret over or regret. This was a good thing, a joyous thing for Amber and for Dove, something that you could simply look at and say ‘this is wonderful’ without reservation.

They were smiling, they were vicariously happy, because this was something that they could be happy about, and that was something a little too rare in their lives.

Right here and now, love had conquered all, and that was something that they were allowed to be pleased with.

Sunset didn’t look at Pyrrha, at least not that Pyrrha noticed, but she did hold out one fist in Pyrrha’s direction.

Pyrrha bumped it with her own fist. “Hoof bump,” she whispered.

Blake glanced at them but said nothing.

Amber and Dove didn’t appear to notice.

The door into the dorm room opened, and Jaune and Ruby walked in together. Jaune had his arms wrapped around two large paper bags, each so large and so bulging that, together, they practically obscured his face from view, which was perhaps why Ruby, who was bearing a single and much smaller and lighter looking bag, was the one who opened the door for him.

“Hey guys,” Ruby said. “I met Jaune leaving to get food, and he asked me to help him carry some stuff; the cafeteria wasn’t open so we went to tha—aah! Dove!?”

Jaune jumped at the sound of Ruby’s voice becoming louder and higher in pitch; a tomato fell out of one of his brown paper bags, although Sunset caught it telekinetically before it hit the ground.

“Dove?” Jaune said, trying to see. “What’s happening?”

“Let me help you with those,” Pyrrha said, taking a step towards him and relieving him of one of his bags of burden. “Welcome back,” she added as his face came into view, the smile still set upon her face as she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Jaune chuckled. “Uh, nice to see you again too, but what is—?”

Dove and Amber’s attention had finally been drawn away from one another and towards the new arrivals in the dorm room.

“Hey, Ruby, Jaune,” Dove said. “I was wondering where you were. Well, no, I admit I wasn’t actually wondering that, but I probably would have at some point. Nice to see you again.”

“How…?” Ruby began. “How are you… what are you… and Amber—?”

“Ruby, Jaune, you know Dove; he’s our fellow student, but he is also Amber’s boyfriend,” Sunset said, gesturing at Dove with one gloved hand. “Hi, Dove, you know us; we’re Team Sapphire, but we’re also secret agents.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the rustling of brown paper as Jaune and Pyrrha put down the large bags of groceries.

“I … think I’d like that promised explanation now,” Dove said, glancing from Amber to the other students in the room. “If that’s all right with everyone.”

“I should leave you to get on with things,” Ciel said, moving to pack up her makeup bag. “I am certain you can provide all the necessary details without my assistance. Amber, call on me any time if you require my help.”

“You don’t have to go,” Amber said. “I mean, not if you don’t want to.”

“I should inform my teammates so that they are not as surprised as Ruby and Jaune by Dove’s presence,” Ciel said, “and besides, one would not wish the room to become too crowded. Blake, are you coming?”

Blake hesitated for a moment, before she said, “I … sure, I’ll come with you. It was nice to meet you, Amber.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Blake,” Amber said softly.

Ciel strode towards the door, Blake following behind her. The members of Team SAPR made way for them, and Ciel opened the door and stepped through it, pausing in the doorway.

She turned back, looking beyond Blake to Dove. “Mister Bronzewing?”

“Yes?” Dove asked, a little uncertainly.

The corner of Ciel’s lip turned upwards. “Congratulations,” she said. “Make the most of your good fortune.”

Dove put one hand around Amber’s waist. “I intend to, believe me.”

Ciel nodded and turned away again, walking out of the room without another word. Blake followed and closed the door behind her.

Once more, a silence fell in the dorm room.

“So,” Dove said, to break said silence, “where … I don’t know where to start, so I’m going to have to trust you on this.”

“Why don’t we all sit down first?” Sunset suggested. “You might feel like sitting down anyway by the time we’re done, so make yourself comfortable.”

Dove and Amber sat down on Sunset’s bed, side by side. Amber picked up Sunset’s stuffed unicorn and put it down in her lap, running the fingers of one hand over the plush coat.

Dove smiled at her — and it. “Another new friend you’ve made since I met you last?”

Amber chuckled. “Sunset gave it to me.”

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, eyebrows rising slightly beneath her circlet.

Sunset shrugged gently as she sat down on her own bed next to Dove and Amber, facing the two of them, one leg turned sideways and resting on the bed, crumpling the duvet beneath her.

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby sat down on Jaune’s bed, facing Amber and Dove — and Sunset too.

“You always loved your stuffed animals,” Dove said softly, reaching out for Amber’s wrists. “I’ve still got Bramwell Brown. I brought it with me; I … I was going to give it to you.”

Amber frowned. “Bramwell who?”

“Bramwell Brown,” Dove repeated. “You know, the bear, the brown bear that I had when I was a kid. My mom kept him, and … when you came to my house, you seemed to really like him. I offered him to you, but you said that your mother would find out about us if he showed up, so…

“I … I met your mother?” Amber asked. “I don’t remember that.”

Dove frowned. “You … don’t remember. But she loved you! She kicked me out of the house and spent three hours talking to you; I went out to chop some wood and when I came back, you’d made apple pie together and were setting the world to rights over tea and homemade scones.”

Sunset cleared her throat. “Amber … Amber has been through a lot, and … some of what she’s been through may have caused her to lose … some of her memories.”

Dove looked at Sunset, but although he turned his body somewhat to do so, he did not relinquish his grip on Amber; rather, he seemed to hold her tighter than before as if he feared that she might slip from his grasp again.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, and it was a demand for all that it was softly spoken; it was clear that only a full explanation would satisfy him.

“I…” Amber began, taking a pause and a deep breath almost ere she began. “I am…” Her breathing was coming deeper now, her bosom heaving. “I am…” She was gasping for breath, a wheezing tone entering her voice, a raggedness.

“Amber, stop,” Sunset and Pyrrha said together, or near enough. It was clear that she was not up to the burden of this.

“Stop,” Sunset repeated. “It’s alright. We can tell the story.”

Amber blinked rapidly. There were tears forming in her eyes. She tried to speak, but seemed to lack the breath for it. As Dove put one arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him, laying her head upon his chest, clinging to him.

“It’s alright,” he murmured. “It’s alright, you're safe.”

Amber opened her eyes, her wet and tear-filled eyes, and glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nodded and smiled encouragingly. “Dove,” she said, “what is your favourite fairytale?”

Dove frowned. “My favourite—”

“Come, Pyrrha, let us not trespass upon Dove’s patience further,” Sunset said. And yet, having said so, she took pause a moment, gathering up her thoughts. “Amber is … Amber is what is called the Fall Maiden. What that means is that she has magic at her command.”

Dove’s blue eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “'Magic'?” he repeated. “You … magic? As in … as in…”

“As in magic,” Sunset said. “As in power, as in no dust necessary nor expenditure of aura neither.”

“You’re joking,” Dove said.

“Do you think so little of us that you think we would jest in such circumstances as these?” Pyrrha asked. “With Amber in such a state as this?”

“Well, no, I don’t, and I meant no offence, but—”

“Amber is here, is she not?” Sunset asked. “And that is not a joke.”

Dove hesitated. “But … there’s no such thing as magic.”

“That is what you are supposed to believe,” Sunset murmured.

“You know the Story of the Seasons, yes?” Pyrrha asked. “That is why I asked about fairytales. You must know the story.”

Dove nodded. “I do.”

“Except it’s not a story,” said Jaune.

Dove swallowed. “In … in what way?”

“Untold years ago,” Pyrrha said, “an old man really did bestow upon four worthy sisters immense power, the power to … to protect themselves and others, the power to inspire and awe, the power to change the world. And then he bid the four sisters go out and share their gifts with all of Remnant. Four maidens: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. That power, bestowed upon the worthy, has been passed down through the generations between then and now, and Amber stands in that line the latest to hold the power and bear the honour of being the Fall Maiden.”

Dove frowned. He looked at Amber, away from all the others. With the hand that held her, he stroked her arm down from her shoulder. “The Fall Maiden,” he murmured. “For … since when?”

That was a question that only Amber could really answer, and so, the others held their peace and waited to see if she would be able to answer it.

When her voice came, it was almost a sob. “Since my mother died,” she whispered. “She passed the powers onto me.”

“And that was why you had to go,” Dove murmured. “You had to go to Beacon, had to come here because … that was why, wasn’t it?”

Amber nodded silently.

“But … why didn’t you tell me?” Dove asked. “You didn’t say anything; even as you were leaving, you told me you were going to stay with your uncle.”

Amber made a sort of whimpering noise and pressed even closer to Dove as though she were trying to burrow into him for warmth or protection.

“You remember how I just said that you weren’t supposed to know that magic existed?” Sunset asked.

“Nobody is supposed to know, or as few as possible,” Ruby added. “About the Maidens, magic, any of it.”

“But why?” Dove asked. “You just said that the powers were given originally so that those four sisters, those Maidens, could inspire the people of Remnant, so—”

“Because there are people who would use those powers for evil,” Ruby said. “People who would kill to get them, and they have. Keeping everything a secret is for the good of everyone.”

“And for Amber’s protection,” Sunset murmured.

Dove let out a small gasp. “The scars…”

“Amber was attacked,” Sunset went on. “Sometime before the school year began. She’s been … in a coma ever since. She just woke up today.”

Pyrrha noted that Sunset didn’t mention that Amber had had some of her magic — and her aura besides — stolen by her attacker; honestly, she could hardly blame Sunset for her reticence; not only was this already a lot to drop on an unsuspecting Dove, but at the same time … what if he became nervous of what he heard? What if he thought that Amber was broken somehow? Yes, he loved her, as dear and true as she loved him, but nevertheless, they were talking about aura and souls; he might not take the news well.

To rob Amber of her comfort and support was the last thing any of them wanted.

“Sunset saved me,” Amber whispered. “She woke me up.”

Dove looked at her. “Truly?”

Sunset shrugged, as though the part she had played had been of no consequence, an incidental role only.

“Thank you,” Dove said. “I have more to thank you for than merely bringing us together. Or rather, I have you to thank for bringing us together in every sense. Although I … how?”

“Leave that for now,” Sunset urged. “It’s not important. Suffice to say that that’s why you couldn’t find her. It wasn’t that she didn’t come here, it wasn’t that she abandoned you, she has been asleep all this time, under the care of Professor Ozpin—”

“Professor Ozpin!” Dove repeated. “But I asked Professor Ozpin about Amber! After the first two weeks of looking, I went to him and asked about her, and he told me that he didn’t know anything about her!”

Oh dear, Pyrrha thought. Professor, did you really have to be so cold? Could you not have told him something?

She understood that Professor Ozpin had wanted to keep Amber’s location a secret in case Cinder came back for another attempt on Amber’s life — something she might well have attempted before her cover was blown; if she had known that Amber was beneath the tower, would she not have headed down to the vault on the night of the dance instead of up to meddle with the computers? — but could he not have said something? Since it seemed that he had given up Amber for dead — or at least, he had become resolved to kill her body, if not her soul — then could he not have told Dove that she had died? It would have been hard news, no doubt, and heartbreaking, but better that than to leave him wondering, mired in ignorance, torn between hope and despair.

Professor Ozpin — whatever his wisdom, his virtues, or the nobility of his intentions — had not covered himself in glory during this business, at least not in Pyrrha’s eyes.

“He’s a liar,” Amber said, her voice soft but sharp at the same time, and filled with anger.

“Now, hang on—” began Sunset.

“He lies, Sunset!” Amber insisted. “He lies all the time, he lied to Dove, you heard!” She sat up a little straighter, pulling away from Dove’s chest a little to look at Sunset better. “He didn’t tell Dove where I was, he pretended that he didn’t know, he did know! He forced these powers on me, he made me this! He made me hunted. I hate him.”

“I don’t feel so well disposed to him myself,” Dove muttered.

“It sounds harsh, I know,” Sunset said.

“It may sound harsh because it is,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset looked at her.

Pyrrha held out her hands. “This … is hard to defend, Sunset; I am surprised that you would try to defend it.”

Sunset ran one hand through her fiery hair. “I…”

“If Cinder had known where Amber was—” Ruby began.

“'Cinder'?” Dove repeated. “The girl who fled? Your—”

“Yes,” Sunset said quickly, before Dove could reveal that she and Cinder had been friends. “Yes, the girl who fled. She is the one who attacked Amber, and as Ruby says, if she’d known where Amber was—”

“She would have tried again,” Ruby said. “I understand why you don’t like it, but there are good reasons for not telling people about this, even people who might think they have a right to know.”

“But you know,” Dove pointed out. “The four of you, why is that? Who are you?”

“We are Professor Ozpin’s servants,” Sunset said. “Though it might not seem that way from the attitudes of some.”

“I make no apologies in this, Sunset,” Pyrrha replied. “There were other ways, things that Professor Ozpin could have said, other than he did.”

“I … I do not excuse,” Sunset murmured. “But…” She paused. “Anyway, the point is that we are trusted by Professor Ozpin to know some of his secrets and do some of his business—”

“Like going to Mountain Glenn,” Dove said.

Sunset closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, that was … Sky is dead because we failed.”

“Who is Sky?” asked Amber.

“A friend,” Dove said. “What secrets? What secrets does Ozpin have, that he needs to trust you with some of them?”

For a moment, none of them said anything.

“The Maidens,” Sunset said. “And the need to protect them.”

Now was the moment at which things could go badly wrong. Amber, of course, knew that there was much, much more to it than that, and she might choose to reveal that to Dove. She might question why Sunset wasn’t revealing more than that to Dove, and if she did … things could go badly wrong.

But Amber said nothing. She did not dispute what Sunset had just said.

“I … see,” Dove said. “But then why attack Vale, why the Breach?”

“Everyone who wants power wants to do something with it,” Jaune said. “Even if that something is just causing destruction and devastation.”

“Mmm,” Dove murmured. “And so … you fight to prevent that, too?”

“We are huntsmen,” Ruby said. “It’s kind of the point, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Dove admitted. “Yes, you’re right.” He paused a moment. “So Amber … Amber isn’t safe?”

“Not yet, unfortunately,” Pyrrha said. “We will protect her, of course, but … I think there will have to be precautions taken.”

“Professor Ozpin will set them out tomorrow,” Sunset said. “You … perhaps you should come with us, to speak to him.”

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, you should come. I want you there. I want you to stay with me."

"I will be there," Dove said, in a voice that was almost a growl. "There is a lot I want to say to Professor Ozpin." His jaw tightened for a moment, before he looked down at Amber, the sight of her seeming visibly to soften him, to gentle him. Certainly, his voice became gentle once more as he said, "Where are you staying?"

"Here," Amber replied. "Sunset has let me have her bed."

"If anyone asks, Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece," Sunset said, "staying with us as a favour to him while her affairs are straightened out with her uncle's help."

Dove's brow furrowed. "Couldn't she stay with me? There is a spare bed in my room—"

"Perhaps you should talk to your teammates before you offer up Sky's bed," Jaune pointed out.

Dove winced. "You make a good point, but still, I'm sure that they would not refuse; they've both heard all about Amber — although not as much as there is to tell — and I'm sure that they'd … can I tell them? About … about what you are, about what you … is it what you have, what you can do?"

"What I am," Amber murmured. "It is a part of me, whether I wish it or not."

"It depends," Ruby said. "Professor Ozpin will decide what you can tell to who, but … probably not. It is supposed to be a secret, after all."

"In any case," Sunset added, "it wouldn't be a good idea for Amber to stay with you and Team Bluebell, spare bed or no."

"Why not?" Dove demanded.

"Because…" Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Well, leaving aside the fact that it's easier for Amber to room with a full team of people who know her secret, there's also the fact that…" She licked her lips. "Lyra and Bon Bon…" She squirmed on the bed and looked at Pyrrha for help.

Pyrrha, who was equally at a loss for a way to put the relative weakness of Team BLBL without giving offence or seeming unduly proud of their own prowess, said nothing.

"Lyra," Sunset repeated, "and Bon Bon—"

"Aren't good enough?" Dove asked. "Is that what you're dancing around saying?"

Sunset exhaled loudly. "They lack skill somewhat, yes, especially by comparison."

"I can protect Amber," Dove declared. "She'll be safe enough with me, regardless of who else is with us."

"You don't know that," Sunset replied. "You only just found out about all of this moments ago; you have no idea—"

"Sunset," Jaune said, before she could work up a head of steam. "Calm down, Dove was just…" He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as she shuffled his bottom towards the edge of the bed, so that he was perched almost precariously upon the edge of it, the mattress buckling beneath him, creating a depression that made Pyrrha and Ruby lean in a little.

Leaned forwards as he was, Jaune was very close to Dove — and Amber too, but Dove especially.

Jaune clasped his hands together. "Listen," he said. "Dove, I get it. You grew up in a small village right? Out in the country kind of place?"

Dove looked at him as though Jaune's point was in the woods some way ahead of him, and he could not quite make it out through all the trees. "That's right," he said carefully, cautiously, quietly. "That's how Amber and I met."

Jaune nodded, smiling slightly. "Me too," he said. "So like I said, I get it. I really get it. You love Amber, you want to protect her, but you also know what's expected of a guy right now. You've always known that." He paused. "But what matters is Amber, not how it makes you feel or what your father or your grandpa or the guys at the bar back home would think. Amber, and keeping her safe, that's all that matters, and I know that you get that, because you love her, right?" He smiled encouragingly. "This is for the best, at least for now."

Dove did not reply for a moment or two, staring at Jaune without speaking. He looked at Amber. "Amber…"

"I … I want to stay here, with Sunset and Pyrrha," Amber said softly. "I … I feel safe with them."

Dove looked hurt by that, a pained look passing across his face. Amber must have noted it as plainly as Pyrrha did, for she went on quickly to say, "But I will see you every day! Every single day." She reached up and, with one hand, stroked his round face. "From when the lark sings in the morning to when the nightingale sings at night, I'll be with you."

Dove put his arms around her. "I just found you again," he said. "I don't want to let you go so soon."

Amber leaned forwards to kiss him. "And you will find me," she said. "I will never go where you can't find me."

"The … the danger is so great, then?" Dove asked.

"I fear so, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"But … but Amber has magic!" Dove cried. "Amber has magic, you say, possessed of ancient powers passed down to her. What has she to fear?"

"Too much," Pyrrha said quietly. "It is not fair, but it is so; magic does not make Amber invincible. It never has." Such is our hope, but such is Amber's curse and fear also.

"All right," Dove said, closing his eyes a moment. "Alright. Amber will stay with you. She will stay with you and be protected."

Jaune found Dove that evening in the courtyard, standing in front of the statue of the huntsman and huntress.

Night had fallen. Darkness blanketed the school, and the lights of the Emerald Tower burned in the darkness, the main light aside from the moon.

The lights of Ozpin at the top of his tower, looking down on the rest of them, plotting and scheming.

Okay, maybe that was just a little harsh, but after what he’d done — or at least after what he’d been willing to do — to Pyrrha, Jaune found that he wasn’t prepared to cut the headmaster much slack.

Certainly, he wasn’t as inclined to be as forgiving as Sunset; it surprised him that she didn’t hold much of a grudge against him for everything that had happened; he wouldn’t have expected her to get over it so easily; she cared as much about Pyrrha as he did, but… but she’d found something that encouraged her to not take Ozpin’s side, but to be charitable towards him.

Jaune couldn’t do likewise. When he looked up at the tower now, when he looked at those lights burning in the darkness, when he thought about what it meant, who was up there, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Some choices just shouldn’t be made, even in a hard place.

Jaune looked away from the tower and turned his thoughts away just as much as his eyes, focusing his attention on Dove where he stood before the statue, looking up at the huntsman who stood so heroically, sword raised up into the air.

The little shrine for Sky was still there too; someone had just laid fresh flowers there by the looks of it, but Dove’s attention wasn’t on the flowers, or on the picture of his teammate, but on the statue itself, on the heroic figure who dominated the courtyard, who stood over the beowolf, who cast his gaze across the school.

Dove’s back was straight, and his head was raised up to look at the statue that loomed over him, but Jaune thought that he noticed a slight slump in the other boy’s shoulders, a posture that he knew well himself.

“It’s a lot to take in, huh?” Jaune asked, as he came up behind Dove to stand by his side.

Dove sighed. “Yeah, yeah, you could say that. Is it that obvious?”

“It’s … a little obvious,” Jaune replied. “But especially to me, since I come out here to think too. Or at least, when I come out to think, I sometimes end up here.”

Dove nodded. “There’s something about it that … draws you, doesn’t it?”

“I guess that’s the point,” Jaune murmured. “Wouldn’t be much of a statue if it didn’t.”

Dove snorted. “True,” he acknowledged, “but I meant more—”

“Yeah, I know what you meant,” Jaune said. “It does have a certain … something. If he was alive, you’d call it charisma I guess, magnetism. He makes you want to look up at him, and not just because he’s tall.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind the company, by the way; it’s just … I know it’s a lot to process by yourself.”

“How long?” Dove asked. “How long have you known all this?”

“Not that long,” Jaune said. “Just … since just before we went to Mountain Glenn.”

“Ozpin … what?” asked Dove. “He called you up to his office and told you that magic was real?”

“Told Sunset and Pyrrha that he needed someone to fight his battles,” Jaune said. “Then they told us.”

“Sunset and Pyrrha,” Dove murmured. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Jaune chuckled softly. He looked down at his feet, scuffing his toes on the stone of the courtyard for a second, then looked back up at the statue, the black stone huntsman cast in a green glow by the light from the tower above.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” he said, “or … ironic, maybe; if that statue was true to the reality around here, it would be the huntress standing up there on the rock with her sword up.”

Dove did not laugh, nor did he smile. “I guess … I guess you’re right about that.” He paused for a moment. “Jaune … what’s it like?”

Jaune furrowed his brow. “What’s what like? I’m afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“What’s it like, not being the hero?” asked Dove. “What’s it like, not being able to be the hero, even though you want to be.” He turned away from the statue, turning to face Jaune head on. “All I want is to protect Amber, to be her hero even if I can’t be anyone else’s; I’m not sure that I’d even want to be anyone else’s hero anymore; Amber is the only … I want to protect her. I want to be able to protect her, I want to be her knight, but … but I can’t, can I? I’m not strong enough.”

“Not on your own, no,” admitted Jaune softly.

“Just like you’re not strong enough.”

“Not on my own.”

“How do you stand it?” demanded Dove. “How is it that that doesn’t eat you up from the inside out? What do you do with … what do you do?”

“I do what I can,” Jaune replied. “I do the best I can. I … like you said, I’m not the hero. I know that, and I’ve had long enough, I’ve been through enough to make my peace with it. Yeah, when I came here, I wanted to be the guy with the sword standing on top of the rock, everyone looking up at me, but … why? What would have been the point of it, what would I have gotten out of it? Would it have made me happy? No, probably not; certainly not the way that she makes me happy. Just seeing her smile, the way her eyes light up, it … it brings me more joy in my heart than hearing a hundred people cheer out my name ever could. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Dove smiled bashfully. He clasped his hands behind his back as it was his turn to look down at the ground for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Jaune grinned. He nodded. “I can’t save the world. I can’t be the hero, I can’t win the battle single-handedly … but maybe, when the battle hangs in the balance, then perhaps I can tip the scale. I can’t be anyone’s shield or protector, but maybe, because I’m there, standing with them, with her, maybe … maybe I can still make the difference whether they win or lose, live or die. And that’s okay with me, that’s enough for me … because they’re the ones who matter. She’s the one who matters.

“Just because you can’t protect her all by yourself doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need you, or want you, what’s more. Just being there for her, doing what you can, that’s all you can do, and that … that’s enough.

“And if the only reward is to see her smile, to hold her in your arms, to … to feel her lips against yours … then that’s enough too.” Jaune paused a second. “Because we’re both really lucky guys. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know it,” Dove said quickly. “I’m well aware, believe me.” He hesitated. “It’s really that easy?”

Jaune shrugged. “If you let it be. It’s only a problem if you make it one.”

Dove frowned. “If she were hurt—”

“If Pyrrha got hurt, then yes, I would probably have a hard time living up to these words,” Jaune admitted. “I’d blame myself, hate myself, beat myself up for being too weak, but … but if we work together, that won’t happen. And it won’t happen to Amber either, because it’s not just you who’s going to protect her.”

“I know,” Dove murmured. “But I just wish—”

“I know,” Jaune responded. “And that’s why we keep trying, keep training. But in the meantime, we do what we can. That’s all we can do. That, and remember that—”

“That they’re the ones who matter,” Dove said.

“Exactly.”

Dove glanced away for a second. “You know … for a while this year, I was … kind of jealous of you. Not in the way that everyone else was jealous of you, but … I was jealous of the fact that you had … you reminded me of what I used to have.”

“And now you have it again,” Jaune pointed out.

“Yes,” Dove replied. “Yes, I certainly do.” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “Who knew that miracles could happen, huh? After a year of wondering and looking and not knowing to just walk into a room, and there she is. Who’d believe it?”

“At this point, I’d believe a lot,” Jaune said.

“Really? It gets like that, huh?”

“You have to admit, it’s a lot to take in,” Jaune replied. And you don’t know the half of it.

Dove nodded. “That’s true. It’s … it is … I don’t know how to describe what it is, mostly because all I can think is that I wish Amber didn’t have these powers. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No,” Jaune said. “Not at all. If … if she wasn’t the Fall Maiden—”

“Then she wouldn’t have been attacked,” Dove murmured. “Do you mind if I say that I really wish Pyrrha had been able to finish the job against Cinder?”

Jaune laughed nervously. “You’re not the only one,” he admitted. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I know it’s a lot, and if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here, but I’m also here to say … don’t worry about it too much. Just focus on the small stuff, focus on Amber, because I can almost guarantee that she doesn’t care what you think about her being a Maiden; she just wants you to be there for her right now.”

Dove turned away from the statue, looking up at the dorm rooms that rose up behind them, at the dark windows and the windows that were illuminated with light.

At the window of Team SAPR’s dorm room, where Amber stood at the window, one arm raised and pressed against the glass.

Dove raised his hand and waved to her.

Jaune grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “We are lucky guys, aren’t we?”

Dove glanced at him, a smile of his own on his face. “The luckiest guys in the world.”

Author's Note

For those of you who didn't catch the announcement on the discord server, there will be no new chapters out next week as I have to prep for an upcoming job interview, thus severely restricting my writing time.

Dispensations (New)

Dispensations

“You’re back late,” Bon Bon observed as Dove slipped back into the BLBL dorm room.

“Not that late,” Dove replied, a smile on his face to match the lightness of his tone. “I haven’t kept you up; it’s not like you’d have gone to bed by now or anything.”

“No,” Bon Bon admitted. “But still, you were longer than we thought you’d be. We didn’t expect Pyrrha and Sunset to detain you that long.”

“Pyrrha and Sunset didn’t detain me,” Dove said quietly.

“Oh,” Bon Bon said mildly. “All right then.”

Silence fell in the dorm room. Lyra was sprawled across Bon Bon’s bed on her belly, booted feet raised up in the air, kicking slowly back and forth; her head was raised to look at Dove while a magazine sat open in front of her.

Bon Bon, banished from her own bed by Lyra’s presence, was sat on the floor at the foot of said bed, one of her gauntlets sat in lap. In one hand, she held a cloth rag, while a bottle of polish sat on the floor beside her.

Both Lyra and Bon Bon looked at Dove, who did not quite look at them.

“This would be your cue to tell us where you’ve been,” Lyra pointed out.

“Out,” Dove said.

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Out where?”

Dove walked across the dorm room to his bed, humming under his breath. “I didn’t realise that I had to tell you everywhere that I go or everything I do.”

“Well, tough, you do,” Lyra said, a grin spreading across her face. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Dove chuckled.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious!” Lyra cried. She reached down onto the floor — on the other side of the bed to where Bon Bon sat — and lifted up a rustling box of Dewberry’s Favourites, a collection of miniature bite-sized bars of the best-selling chocolates made in Vale by the confectioner Dewberry’s … and the coconut one that nobody liked but which seemed to find its way there anyway.

“Do you want one?” she asked, shaking the box.

Dove hesitated. “All right, I’ll—”

“Well, too bad; you’re not getting until you tell us where you’ve been,” Lyra said, putting the box down.

Now it was Dove’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“You might not have to tell us where you were,” Bon Bon said, getting up off the floor to look at him over Lyra.

“Yes, he does!”

Bon Bon ignored her to carry on, “But you do realise how suspicious it is that you won’t say where you’ve been, right?” She sniffed at the air, her nose pricking at the smell that had wafted into the room with Dove. “And what is that smell?”

Dove froze; the humming beneath his breath died a swift end. “What smell? I don’t know what you mean?”

“I mean the smell, the smell that you brought in here, the smell that’s on you, the smell that was not here a second ago, what is that smell?” Bon Bon demanded.

She sniffed some more. It wasn’t a bad smell, by any means; it was noticeable, but having noticed it, she couldn’t deny that it was kind of nice. Fruity, maybe? A little bit, with something else in there; she couldn’t quite say what it was, but it felt familiar to her. She’d smelled this somewhere before, but—

Lyra’s eyes widened. “It’s Pyrrha!”

“What?” Bon Bon snapped.

“What?” Dove yelped.

“The smell!” Lyra cried. “It’s Pyrrha’s hair. Or it could be her perfume, but I don’t think she wears perfume, because it’s not that strong, and also, it’s the same scent all the time, and also wearing perfume everywhere even to class would be kind of a lot.” Her voice had dropped as she reached the end of her ramble of reasons, but now it revived in volume as she carried on. “The point is that I’m ninety percent sure that it’s scented hair care products, especially since the smell is strongest coming from her hair, but the point is that that smell, the smell that is on you, Dove, is definitely Pyrrha’s smell.” Lyra somewhat laboriously rolled over onto her back and then sat up on Bon Bon’s bed. “So, Dove Bronzewing, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Dove had frozen. He didn’t speak, he didn’t even move, he was just … frozen. He stood there still, petrified.

Bon Bon thought that he’d gone a little pale as well.

She folded her arms. “Something that you want to tell us, Dove?”

Dove didn’t look at either of them. “What do you mean?”

“We mean,” Lyra said, “are you and Pyrrha … you know…?”

“Know what?”

Bon Bon was beginning to suspect that Dove was being deliberately disingenuous. “Are you having an affair?”

Lyra looked up at Bon Bon. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“'An affair'?” Lyra repeated. “Kind of an old-fashioned way of putting it, don’t you think? It’s not like either of them is married.”

“I am not having an affair, I am not anything with Pyrrha,” Dove declared. “That you would think that I … you’re ridiculous. You two are being utterly and completely ridiculous. If I wasn’t in such a good mood, I would be heartily offended.”

“Why are you in such a good mood?” asked Lyra.

Dove hesitated for a mood. His good mood did not prevent him from sighing. “I … you two are my best friends; you know that, don’t you?”

Lyra held up one hand, a hand which Bon Bon took, feeling Lyra’s fingers close around said hand.

“We had the idea, sure,” Lyra said, smiling at him.

“There are things…” Dove began, before he paused. “Just trust me on this, alright? Trust me and … let it go. Pyrrha isn’t cheating on Jaune — not with me, and probably not with anyone else either, and even if she was so inclined, I wouldn’t be a part of it. Trust me and let it go. Now, since you’ve been so kind as to point out that I do have a slight smell around me, I think that I should go and get a shower.”

He walked into the bathroom before either of them could say another word, shutting the door behind him.

They could hear some faint humming coming from the other side of the door.

“He is in a good mood,” Lyra observed. “When was the last time he was this happy?”

“I’m not sure he was ever this happy since we’ve known him,” Bon Bon replied. “He’s always been…”

“Melancholy?” Lyra suggested.

Bon Bon nodded. “Sad and solemn. Maybe he’s finally over it.”

“You mean over her?” Lyra replied. “Over Amber.”

“She was the reason why he was sad,” Bon Bon admitted. “So … yes, maybe he’s finally over her.”

Lyra winced. “Is it awful of me if I say that I hope not?”

Bon Bon frowned. “Why would you hope not? Don’t you want Dove to be happy?”

“By breaking up someone else’s relationship?” Lyra asked. “Honestly, Bonnie, no. Not really, not like this. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that Dove owes Amber his undying devotion; she’s gone, whether she left without looking back or … or she … whatever happened to her, she doesn’t have the right to reach out from … wherever she is and demand that Dove not move on with his life. That’s why I helped you try and set him up with Ciel, for all the good that did. But of all the girls out there he could have gone with, why choose the one who's already taken?”

“No boy owns their girlfriend.”

“I’m not saying they do,” Lyra said. “But…” She flopped down onto her back. “If I were in a relationship, I would like my partner to be faithful to me. I’ll even go further than that: I think if we were in a relationship, I would have the right to expect that, to demand it. And so, because I’m not a hypocrite, I’m not gonna lie here and say that it’s okay with me for Dove to be a part of something like that. If you’re not happy, then break up. If you want to see other people, then break up with the person you're seeing already — or have a threesome or something, I guess, but anyway. Maybe it’ll be hard, but tough. Do it anyway, do the right thing. And don’t be a party to the wrong thing, even if you’re not involved with anyone else; that’s just basic stuff.”

“Hmm,” Bon Bon murmured. “And you’re sure that smell is Pyrrha’s?”

“My nose doesn’t lie,” Lyra replied. “Although … I have to admit I never would have thought that Dove would … he’s too upright.”

“Me neither,” Bon Bon said softly. “Still, there’s nothing that we can do to stop him, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens next.”

Glynda folded her arms. “Mister Bronzewing is Amber’s boyfriend?”

Qrow laughed sourly. “It sounds really weird hearing you talk like that, Professor,” he muttered. “But why don’t we start with the fact that Amber even has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, so you can say it?” Glynda asked.

Qrow smirked. “What can I say? I’m down with the kids.” He took a swig from his flask. “So … Amber has a boyfriend?”

Ozpin sighed. Glynda, Qrow, and Ironwood were all with him in his office; very soon, Amber would arrive, accompanied by Team SAPR and — so Sunset had informed him by text message — Mister Bronzewing, to discuss the arrangements for Amber’s security going forwards and her arrangements for the near future until more permanent arrangements could be made.

There would also need to be a talk with Mister Bronzewing about what he knew and how important it was that he did not share it.

For now, though, it was just the four of them: himself and three of his five lieutenants, the most trusted three. Ironwood stood at his left hand side; Glynda was on his right but a little farther off, a few feet from his desk. Qrow stood near the centre of the room, closest to the elevators.

“Yes, Qrow,” Ozpin said. “Amber has…” If Glynda could not say the word ‘boyfriend’ without it seeming strange passing from her lips then what chance did he have? “Amber is romantically involved with a young man.”

“I thought Merida raised her in the woods precisely to avoid this kind of thing,” Qrow muttered.

“And yet, nevertheless…” Ozpin murmured. “Apparently, he found her in the woods regardless. Love finds a way, it seems.”

“'Love'?” Qrow repeated. “Come on, Oz; these are kids we’re talking about.”

“Amber believes that she loves him,” Ozpin said.

“Really?” Qrow muttered. “Thank gods Tai raised Yang with more sense. But kids believe a lot of things; it doesn’t make it true; nobody knows what love is at that age.”

Glynda’s eyebrows rose. “And how old was Tai when he and Raven—”

“Raven left,” Qrow said harshly. “If you love someone, you don’t run out on them, leave them literally holding the baby. What Tai had with Summer, that was love, and that … that kind of thing takes time, maturity, the ability to pull your head out of your ass and see that the girl you needed might not be the girl you want, but the one who's been there for you the entire time.”

“Whether Amber’s feelings for this boy are as real as she thinks or just a passing fancy hardly seems relevant,” Ironwood murmured.

“Indeed,” Glynda agreed. “What matters is that he is here, a student at this school. Quite a coincidence.”

“Mister Bronzewing came to Beacon in part to look for, and to be with, Amber,” Ozpin said. “That is no coincidence at all. It also, I must say, speaks passing well for his character.”

“Who are you trying to convince, Oz?” Qrow asked. “Us or yourself?”

“Oz did the right thing,” Ironwood said.

Qrow blinked rapidly. He looked down at the flask that was still in his hand. “I must have had more of this than I thought,” he said, “because I could have sworn that you just said that you thought Oz had done the right thing.”

“I did,” Ironwood said, with an air of long-suffering patience.

“You agree with Ozpin?”

“It has been known to happen,” Ironwood declared.

“Maybe, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen now,” Qrow said.

Ironwood clasped his hands together behind his back. “Recently, my students have reminded me about the importance of free will, of letting these kids make their own choices, their own decisions, maybe even their own mistakes … reminded me that if we try and put them in cages, even for their own good, then … then no matter how benevolently designed the cage, it’s still a cage, and it still ends up hurting them to be confined.” He sighed. “Which reminds me, Oz, we need to talk at some point.”

Ozpin leaned back in his chair a little as he turned it to face Ironwood. “There is time now.”

Ironwood’s eyebrows rose. “Aren’t we a little busy right now?”

Ozpin held up his hands. “What is there to be said? Mister Bronzewing has been informed and reintroduced to Amber. Whether you think that it was a good idea or no, whether you think that I should have allowed Miss Shimmer to do it or no … it is rather irrelevant now, wouldn’t you agree? What’s done is done.”

“What’s he like?” asked Qrow.

“Hard working, for sure,” Glynda said. “Of the male students in his year, I would have rated him the best—”

“'Would have'?” Qrow repeated.

“Mister Arc has been improving rapidly,” Glynda explained, “but Mister Bronzewing is no slouch, although I’m not sure that his choice of weapon does him any favours. He is not the most popular student, but he is far from unpopular. If I had to describe him in a word, I would choose … reliable. He does not possess star quality or exude charisma, but he is reliable. If I asked him to do something, then I know it would be done.” She paused. “He is also wasted in Team Bluebell. He should have been kept with Team Iron, and they should have—”

“Glynda, at this point, that particular argument verges upon ancient history,” Ozpin pointed out.

“Team Iron,” Qrow said. “That’s Yang’s team, right?”

“Of your two nieces,” Glynda said, “I consider Miss Xiao Long the more reliable.”

“That’s not a compliment,” Qrow said.

“It is from me,” Glynda replied.

Qrow snorted. “'Reliable' is what you look for in a family car or a refrigerator. In a warrior, you need some flash to get the job done.”

“Glynda,” Ozpin said, “would you really rather that it were Miss Xiao Long I had invited down into the vault to become the next Fall Maiden? Or Miss Valkyrie? Would either of them have been able to devise a way to save Amber without anyone needing to go through with the transfer?”

Glynda bowed her head slightly, even as she pushed her half-moon spectacles up her nose. “No, Professor.”

“In any case, as I said, it is ancient history now; what’s done is done,” Ozpin said. “As for Mister Bronzewing, at the very least, he does not sound like the worst sort of boy who could be in this position. He is, by all accounts and outward appearances, a conscientious young man. Yes, it could be worse. So, James, you were saying?”

Ironwood hesitated for a moment. “Miss Polendina’s transfer papers, her request to move from Atlas to Beacon next year. I know that she should have submitted the forms to you first, but given the special circumstances, I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“'Special circumstances'?” Qrow asked.

“Miss Polendina is … an unusual student,” Ozpin explained, without explaining very much of anything. “But one you may rest assured that we will take excellent care of, as we strive to take the very best care of all our students here at Beacon.”

“When you’re not recruiting them into this little war,” Qrow muttered.

Ozpin frowned, both because the sally pained him and because he knew that he deserved it; in the face of what he did, the way that he chose particularly talented students and recruited them into his private army, in the face of the way that he had treated Miss Rose … it did make Beacon’s nurturing pretensions seem rather hypocritical, didn’t it?

“There was no need for that,” Glynda said.

“And yet, you are not wrong,” Ozpin whispered.

Qrow looked guilty, biting his lip and sticking his hands into his pockets. “No, Glynda’s right; that was out of line. I’m sorry, Oz; I know that … I know you do what you have to do, just like I know that, for some students, joining up with you is the best thing that ever happened to them.”

And for others the worst, Ozpin thought. For every Qrow, there was a Raven … or a Miss Shimmer: someone who faltered and failed in the face of the burden that he placed upon them.

“I don’t have the right to lecture you about how to treat Penny, so I won’t,” Ironwood went on, “but … if it could be somehow arranged for her to stay close to Team Sapphire, at least at first, until she makes other friends, then I would take it as a personal favour.”

“That is not so easy,” Glynda said.

“But we will see what we can do,” Ozpin assured him. “After all … after all we ask of these students, these children, to try and ensure that they are happy and comfortable when they are not in battle with the world at stake … that seems like the very least that we can do, does it not? As it is with Miss Polendina, so it is with Amber. She is a Maiden, she is a Maiden who has been wounded and sundered from part of her power, she is … condemned to be a target of Salem until she dies. Letting her have her young beau is really little enough.” Compared with what I have asked of her, it is nothing at all.

There was the chiming of a little bell, and the elevator door opened.

With six people inside, the elevator up to Professor Ozpin’s office was definitely crowded. One might even go so far as to call it overcrowded.

Or one could just call it cramped, which it absolutely was, especially when five of the six people inside were trying to give Amber as much space as possible so that she didn’t feel too hemmed in.

Not that it was possible not to feel a little hemmed in in a place like this.

Sunset was turned partly side on, so that she could press her shoulder against the closed lift door without worrying about her tail getting caught in said door when it opened — if only because she was holding her tail out of the way with her free hand. She turned her head somewhat, but not too much, since she didn’t want to get her hair caught in the door either, to look at Amber.

Amber was in the very centre of the elevator; everyone was trying to make room for her, yet nevertheless, she was hunched up, shoulders bent and drawn in, hands clasped together in front of her, head down.

“It won’t be too long now,” Sunset assured her, although it seemed to her that the lift was taking longer than normal to grind its way up to the top of the tower. “It won’t be long, and we’ll be out of here.”

“And with him,” Amber murmured.

Sunset frowned. She knew exactly who ‘him’ was, everybody knew that she was referring to Professor Ozpin, but … Sunset didn’t know how to get Amber to stop feeling this way.

Pyrrha … well, Sunset hadn’t actually spoken to Pyrrha about this, but Sunset had the impression that Pyrrha, and probably Jaune too, felt that Amber was justified in feeling as hostile as she did towards Professor Ozpin.

Probably because they felt pretty hostile towards Professor Ozpin at the moment themselves. Sunset could not deny that they had cause to feel that way; what Professor Ozpin had been prepared to do to Pyrrha was … regardless of the emergencies of the situation, it had been a pretty monstrous thing to contemplate. It was not the sort of thing that Princess Celestia would have done.

No, Sunset could not blame Pyrrha for being a bit miffed about it, even if she had been willing to go along with it for the greater good; nor could she blame Jaune; it was a lot to ask that someone take almost losing the love of their life with perfect equanimity and no smouldering resentments at all.

But Amber … Amber had been … regardless of what mistakes Professor Ozpin had or had not made with Amber, Sunset could not help but think it would be better for both of them if they were to reconcile. It had been better for Sunset when she had made up with Princess Celestia, after all; she had felt less angry afterwards, less melancholy, less abandoned, less … less many negative things. She had regained a mentor, a confidante, a tireless figure of wisdom, authority, and patience whom she could approach for advice at any time. Someone she could trust to be there for her, no matter what.

Amber would benefit from having someone like that in Professor Ozpin. To be perfectly honest, almost anyone or everyone would benefit from having someone like that in their life, but in the immediate context of their present situation — and hers — Amber would certainly benefit from having someone like that in Professor Ozpin.

It was just a matter of how to make her understand that.

It was also a matter of whether Amber was receptive enough to the message that Sunset ought to risk it; Professor Ozpin had made a good point that if she pushed too hard, then she might jeopardise Amber’s trust in her. If Amber came to believe that Sunset was Professor Ozpin’s woman, set to be not her guard but her gaoler, then it would make things more difficult in the near term.

And yet, it itched at Sunset to just leave things like this; it stuck in her craw, knowing what she did, knowing how much it would help Amber to mend fences with the man who had taught and tutored and helped to raise her. It was difficult to simply see this situation, far from ideal for all concerned, continue unchecked.

There was a difference between allowing people the liberty of their own thoughts and opinions — such as allowing Pyrrha and Jaune their cooled feelings towards the headmaster — and not doing anything to help someone who needed it.

“He…” Sunset hesitated. “Professor Ozpin is not a monster.”

“What if,” Amber began, “what if he tries to take me away?”

“I won’t let that happen,” Dove declared.

“I don’t think Professor Ozpin will do that,” Sunset said. “In fact, I’ll go further and say that I’m sure he won’t, at least not right now.” She paused. “But, Dove … you do realise that Amber can’t stay here at Beacon for four years, right? Or even for the next three? People would start to ask questions.”

“What are you saying, Sunset?” Amber asked.

“I’m asking Dove if he’s prepared to leave this school to go with you, wherever you go,” Sunset explained. “Because it’s likely that you’ll be going somewhere sooner or later. Somewhere secret and safe.”

“'Safe'?” Amber repeated. “Where is safe now, in the whole world?”

“I’ll go wherever Amber does,” Dove said. “It will … it will be a wrench to leave Lyra and Bon Bon behind, and I don’t know how they’ll continue on as a team of two, but … I won’t leave you again.” He reached for her hands, taking one of them inside his own. “I’ll never leave you again.”

Sunset nodded. “Good boy, that’s the right answer.”

“Family first, huh?” said Ruby.

Dove’s cheeks flushed a little. “Well, I … I mean, we’re not … but I suppose you … could say that.”

Sunset grinned. “Your teasing game is getting better, Ruby.”

“But I wasn’t teasing anyone,” Ruby replied.

“Yeah, you were; you just didn’t realise it,” Sunset said airily, the smile remaining on her face.

Amber didn’t seem teased in the least. She seemed to relax a little more, her shoulders loosening and losing some of their hunch, a smile of her own spreading across her face. Not a grin, like Sunset wore, but a soft smile, a gentle one, although with a touch about it that some might call coy. She placed her free hand on top of Dove’s.

“Family,” she whispered.

Pyrrha’s smile was small but noticeable.

Amber’s brow furrowed somewhat. “What will I do when you’re not around? Do you … this is a school, isn’t it, and I can’t … I don’t think that I want to join you in your classes—”

“We don’t have classes at the moment,” Jaune explained. “The school year has ended, and we’re … we’d be on break, except that the Vytal Festival is about to start, so we’ll need some cover for that—”

“Vytal Festival?” Amber repeated. “What’s a Vytal Festival?”

“You don’t remember what the Vytal Festival is?” Ruby asked.

“Amber might not have ever known,” Sunset pointed out. “She did live in the woods. You didn’t have a television, did you?”

“No,” Amber replied. “Everything that I know about the outside world comes from … from Ozpin.”

She didn’t even start calling him ‘Uncle’ Ozpin this time. That’s not good.

“Very convenient for him,” Dove muttered.

“It’s not like that,” Sunset said.

“Then what is it like?” Dove asked.

“It’s like … I don’t know, I wasn’t there, but you do the man wrong; he’s not a monster,” Sunset insisted.

“Amber,” Ruby said, “you have woken up at just the right time; the Vytal Festival is going to be terrific. I hope it’s going to be terrific anyway. It should be. There are going to be parades and dances and parties—”

“Really? That all sounds lovely,” Amber said. “And you’re going? Can we go, Dove?”

“That’s something that we can certainly talk about once we get up to the office,” Sunset said.

“And if he says no?” Amber asked. “That’s it? I’m a prisoner?”

“No, of course not,” Sunset replied. “It’s just—”

The bell chimed, indicating that they had reached the top floor.

“Oh, thank goodness for that,” Sunset muttered, shuffling backwards as the doors to the lift opened up, not catching Sunset’s hair or tail or anything else about her.

They exited, as quickly as they could without spilling out, walking across Professor Ozpin’s office, passing beneath the shadows of the grinding gears of the clock above, to stand before the headmaster’s desk.

Amber stood in the centre, with Dove at her right hand side; they were still holding hands. Pyrrha stood on Amber’s left, with Jaune by her other side. Sunset stood to the right of Amber and Dove, with Ruby upon the far flank of the group.

Professor Ozpin sat behind his desk, his lieutenants arrayed around him: Professor Goodwitch at his right hand; General Ironwood upon his left; Qrow Branwen standing off to one side, arms folded, his back reflected in the tinted glass of the office windows.

Beyond said windows, one of the newly arrived Mistralian battleships could be seen hovering just beyond the cliffs, its nose and all the considerable armament of its forward battery facing their way. Bullheads seemed to be rising up towards it in some numbers; if Sunset had to guess, she would say that it was the Valish crew being taken up to their new ship to learn the ropes.

It would have been easier to do that in a dockyard, surely.

But in a dockyard, they wouldn’t look as imposing, and Vale wouldn’t look as safe.

She focused her attention on Professor Ozpin as he smiled. “Thank you all for coming so early; I’m aware that the dining hall hasn’t even opened for breakfast yet, but I wanted to get everything straightened out before the wider student body has a chance to come across Amber.” He paused a moment. “Good morning, Amber.”

Amber did not look at him. “Good morning,” she murmured, with a brittle quality in her voice that the politeness of her tone sounded strained already.

“How are you?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“I’m fine,” Amber said quickly. “Last night was fine.”

That was a lie, although perhaps only a little white one: Amber’s night had not been fine last night; she had slept, but fitfully, tossing and turning and moaning in her sleep, waking Sunset and the others up at various points during the night to hear her. None of them blamed her for it — after what she’d been through, it was hardly surprising that she was tormented by nightmares — but as it had not been restful for them, so Sunset doubted that it had been restful for Amber.

It was exactly the sort of thing that it would have been good for Amber to speak with Professor Ozpin about, if she could only have brought herself to trust and love him as she once had.

Perhaps Sunset would talk to him about it anyway, without Amber knowing; he could get her some sleeping pills or something.

The smile faded from Professor Ozpin’s face. “I see,” he murmured, pushing his glasses further up his nose closer to his eyes; the light seemed to glint off of them, hiding said eyes from view, concealing what might be found there. “I am … glad to hear it.”

Amber shivered.

“Are you cold?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I’m fine; stop asking me,” Amber snapped.

Professor Goodwitch looked embarrassed. General Ironwood seemed to be staring a few inches over Ruby’s head at the wall at the back of the office, or perhaps the elevator door — and wishing he were inside it — anywhere but at the people in the office with him.

Nobody spoke.

Until Qrow said, “So, you’re the boy, huh?”

“If you mean me, then yes, I suppose I am,” Dove replied. “And you are?”

Qrow ignored that, saying instead, “Well, I can’t say I’d let you date my nieces; you look a little boring to me. But I guess I thought the same of their dad, too.”

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said reproachfully.

“Uncle?” Dove asked.

“What, I’m just messing with the kid; you know I love your dad,” Qrow said breezily. “I just don’t get why so many cute girls go for these basic boring losers. Like that guy over there.” He gestured at Jaune with one hand.

“Qrow!” Professor Goodwitch snapped.

“I’m trying to lighten the mood! Gods know that this place could do with it, don’t you think?” Qrow declared. “They get that.”

He looked at the students.

Pyrrha was glaring at him like a beowolf that has just spotted its next meal.

“Tough crowd,” Qrow muttered. “All right, all right, I’m sorry; I’m sure your boyfriend’s a really nice guy; just forget I said anything.”

He huffed, and took a drink from his flask.

“'Uncle'?” Dove repeated.

“I’m sorry about him,” Ruby said. “He can be a little, uh … yeah.”

“Shall we proceed?” asked Professor Goodwitch.

“By all means,” Professor Ozpin said. “Thank you, Glynda.”

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming,” she repeated. “We are here to discuss the arrangements for Amber’s security for the foreseeable future. At some point, more permanent arrangements will be put in place, but for now, certainly for as long as Amber remains here at Beacon, then the dispensations made today will stand. Mister Bronzewing.”

“Yes, Professor?”

Professor Goodwitch looked at him over the top of her spectacles. “You are aware of Amber’s … condition?”

Dove nodded. “I am, Professor.” He frowned. “I’m also aware that both you and Professor Ozpin knew all about where Amber was when I asked, and you both lied to me and said that you didn’t know anything.”

“Should we have told you the truth?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Knowing what you know, that Amber was in critical condition having been attacked for her powers, can you honestly say that we did not act in Amber’s best interests by keeping the knowledge of her whereabouts a carefully guarded secret?”

“I wouldn’t have blabbed the news all around the school,” Dove replied. “What reason would I have to do that?”

“You might have told Miss Heartstrings and Miss Bonaventure,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “Or Miss Xiao Long, your own team leader at the time. And who might Miss Heartstrings or Miss Bonaventure confide in? The risk was too great.” She paused for a moment. “Mister Bronzewing, a great trust has been placed in you with this. Not many are privileged to know what you know. I happen to believe that you are worthy of that trust, but I would hate to be disappointed in my assessment of you.”

Dove breathed in, and out. “I promise you, Professor, I promise all of you that I’ll do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, in order to keep Amber safe. You have my word on that.” He paused a moment. “I take it that means that you don’t want me to tell Lyra and Bon Bon—”

“No more than any other student ought to know,” Professor Goodwitch said, quickly and a little sharply. “That Amber is Professor Ozpin’s niece and that she is staying with Team Sapphire for a little while. You must not tell Miss Heartstrings or Miss Bonaventure anything about the Fall Maiden.”

“They might still wonder why you told me you didn’t know anything about her,” Dove pointed out.

“You may blame us if you wish,” Professor Goodwitch replied, “or say that we did not believe the Amber you were looking for to be our Amber. Either way, they are not to know about magic, or Maidens, is that clear? I want your word on that, Mister Bronzewing, upon your honour. Amber’s safety may depend upon it.”

Dove bowed his head. “Upon my honour, Professor, you have my word. I will not breathe a word of it.”

“Thank you, Mister Bronzewing,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “I am glad to see you understand the magnitude of all this. For what it may be worth, little enough though that may be, I am sorry that we had to deceive you. I took no joy from it, and Professor Goodwitch especially took none. We did … what was best for Amber. Although you may not believe it, Amber, we have always tried to do what was best for you.”

Amber said nothing. She barely seemed able to look at Professor Ozpin.

“Thank you, Professor, for letting us tell Dove the truth, now that Amber is awake,” Sunset said, glancing at Amber and at Dove. Maybe you could try for a little gratitude?

“Yes, thank you for not lying even more,” Amber muttered.

Sunset closed her eyes and tried to suppress a wince. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?

Professor Goodwitch ploughed on. “For the time being, Amber will remain as a guest in Team Sapphire’s room, where she will sleep.”

She waited a moment as though she expected Dove to object.

“We’ve already explained to Dove why that is for the best, Professor,” Pyrrha supplied helpfully.

“Thank you, Miss Nikos,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “Until Professor Ozpin decides otherwise, Amber should be accompanied at all times by a member of Team Sapphire, at least one member of Team Sapphire. When no member of the team is available to guard her — such as during your participation in the Vytal Tournament, which we have neither the desire, nor perhaps even the means, to deny you — then Miss Shimmer, you will be responsible for ensuring that other arrangements for Amber’s security are made.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “May I ask what other arrangements will be considered satisfactory?”

“Dash or Belladonna will be fine,” General Ironwood said. “Or Penny, for that matter.”

“In a pinch, you can ask me for assistance,” Professor Ozpin said, “and I will have Qrow watch over Amber for a little while.”

Amber gave a little sniffing squeak, as if the idea alarmed her.

Sunset found that she couldn’t wholly blame her, Ruby’s uncle or not; quite apart from her distaste for how freely he used that flask, there was also the fact that … well, he didn’t look much like a gentleman, did he? Much as he might be at a loss for why girls like Pyrrha and Amber might be drawn to kind, courteous, and considerate men like Jaune or Dove, so too Sunset couldn’t think for the life of her what anyone in their right mind would see in a pirate like Qrow. She found herself fighting the urge to curl her lip into a sneer and call him ‘bandit scum’ or something.

“And … me, Professor?” Dove asked.

Professor Goodwitch’s mouth tightened. “I’m afraid, Mister Bronzewing, that we cannot trust you with this on your own.”

Dove swallowed, but otherwise kept any sign of disappointment that he felt to himself. “No,” he said softly. “No, I suppose not. I understand.”

Whatever you said to him last night, Jaune, it seems to have worked wonders.

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “It would also be for the best if Amber did not leave the school grounds for the time being.”

“Not leave?” Amber gasped. “So I am trapped here?”

“It is for your own protection,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“And your control!” Amber snapped.

“Professor,” Sunset said, taking half a step forwards. “If … if I may … regardless of the wider concerns, Benni Havens is only just outside the school grounds, so at the very least, an exception might be made there.”

“True enough,” Professor Goodwitch allowed. “Very well, Miss Shimmer.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset said.

“I don’t—” Amber began.

“Amber, please,” Sunset said, looking back at her to cut her off. “Trust me, okay?”

Amber hesitated a second. “I trust you,” she murmured.

Sunset nodded and smiled at her, before turning her attention back to Professor Ozpin and his allies. “And, well, Professor, with the Vytal Festival soon to be upon us, and hordes of tourists soon to descend upon the school grounds for the fairgrounds and in between matches … is the school really going to be so much safer than the city of Vale?”

“The school grounds will be guarded and patrolled by my forces,” General Ironwood reminded her.

“Isn’t the city also under your protection, General?” Sunset asked.

“Yes, but I don’t have troops on the streets of Vale or controlling the entrances and exits,” General Ironwood replied. “It will be much easier for Cinder to slip into Vale than it will be for her to slip back into Beacon.”

“Nevertheless, the best guarantee of Amber’s security will be our presence,” Sunset said, “and she’ll have that whether she’s in Vale or at Beacon.”

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment. “I … I am sorry,” he said, “I know that this confinement is not to your liking, but with the present unsettled state of Vale, it is too great a risk.”

The present unsettled state of Vale is a reason why it would be good if we had Maidens who could go out amongst the people and inspire them to do better, Professor, Sunset thought.

“But Amber will miss some of the best parts of the Vytal Festival!” Ruby cried. “Yeah, she’ll be able to watch the matches and go to the fairgrounds, but there’s so much more to it than that. Right, Uncle Qrow? You remember, that time when you and Dad took me and Yang, and you got us those tickets to watch the final.”

Qrow smiled wryly. “Yeah. Yeah, Oz got me those tickets. That was … that was a good day.”

“That was a good few days,” Ruby said, “because I remember the time that we spent in Vale just as much, just as vividly, all the things that we did and the places we went, everything that was going on … it was the most wonderful time, the best time I’ve ever had in Vale, one of the best anywhere. I think … I know it’s dangerous, but so much is dangerous right now, I think that it would be good if … if Amber were to have a chance to make those wonderful memories before she has to hide again. I think she deserves that after everything she’s been through.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha began, “perhaps security in Vale could be stronger than it is at Beacon? Perhaps if two of us were to accompany Amber in the city, as opposed to just one on the school grounds?”

General Ironwood bent down and whispered something to Professor Ozpin; Sunset couldn’t make out everything he said, but she was sure that she caught the word ‘cage’ in there somewhere.

Professor Goodwitch furrowed her brow, but Professor Ozpin nodded.

General Ironwood straightened up once more.

Professor Ozpin said, “General Ironwood reminds me that misguided efforts at protection and safekeeping can do more harm than good. Therefore, I will permit Amber to be escorted into the city of Vale—”

Sunset smiled. “Thank you, Professor—”

“When escorted by all four members of Team Sapphire,” Professor Ozpin went on. “Or by Qrow. There will be no other circumstances in which I permit this, no exceptions, and you are to stay close by Amber at all times until you return to school. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Professor,” Pyrrha said. “Perfectly.”

“At the moment, this applies before the start of the Vytal Festival,” Professor Ozpin went on. “Whether it is extended to cover the Festival itself remains to be seen.”

“You mean, if it all goes okay beforehand, you’ll allow it?” asked Ruby.

“Yes, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It depends entirely on you.”

Ruby nodded. “Then we won’t let you down, Professor. You won’t regret it.”

“I hope not, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said heavily.

Amber opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. She licked her lips, took half a step forwards, or began to but then hesitated. She put one hand to her chest, above her heart. “Uh … Ozpin,” she murmured.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. “Yes, Amber?”

“Thank you,” whispered Amber.

Professor Ozpin’s expression resembled a flower long cast in shadow that has just felt the sunlight on it once again for the first time. It was like watching him bloom and blossom before their eyes, his eyes, his whole face brightening.

“You are very welcome, Amber,” he said.

Sunset smiled as she looked down at the floor.

You know, maybe, just maybe, they’re going to be okay.

Recognition (New)

Recognition

The elevator door opened, and the six of them — Sunset, Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Amber and Dove — relievedly exited onto the ground floor of the Emerald Tower; this early in the morning, it was deserted, save for the Atlesian androids on guard. The soft green light of the tower lobby reflected off their sleek white bodies as they moved with stiff gait and clanking noises around the room.

They paid Team SAPR, Amber, and Dove no mind, but Amber shrank back from them a little regardless, stepping closer to Dove while at the same time trying to put Pyrrha and Sunset between herself and the robots.

"It's alright," Pyrrha reassured her. "They're not here to hurt you. They're here to protect the tower; they're completely harmless."

"Unfortunately they're halfway to harmless to their enemies as well," Sunset muttered.

Ruby, who overheard her, snorted.

"There's really nothing to be scared of," Pyrrha went on. "They recognise us as friends."

Amber frowned. "How?" she asked.

Pyrrha opened her mouth, but did not speak for a moment. "I … must confess I'm not entirely sure."

"There's a database with all of our faces on it," Ruby explained, "which it has because it's got access to the official school database so it knows who all of the students are and what we look like, and then it uses facial recognition algorithms to identify us, and we're all tagged as friendly. Twilight explained it to me."

"But … how does that work for me?" Amber asked. "I'm not a student here."

"Probably Professor Ozpin put your ID into the records regardless, so that the androids would have access to your picture," Sunset said. "It's the sort of thing that he'd consider as soon as you woke up."

Amber glanced at Sunset. "You like him, don't you? Ozpin, I mean?"

Sunset stopped walking towards the door. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"I didn't, at first," she said, "I didn't trust him, his motives, his desires, what he'd do to my friends to get what he wanted. But … I understand him better now, and I find him a better man than I gave him credit for." She frowned. "I don't defend what happened to you, or the part that Professor Ozpin played in this situation you're in, but it was a mistake, not malice. I won't stand here and tell you that Professor Ozpin always makes the right decision, but he always tries to do what's best."

"Best for who?" Amber asked softly.

Sunset did not reply to that, because she was not immediately sure of the correct response to that; she wasn't sure of the correct response absolutely, but more importantly, she wasn't sure of how exactly Professor Ozpin would try to respond to that. Best for humanity? Best for the Maidens? Best for his agents? You could take a collection of his decisions and argue for any one of those positions based on the things Professor Ozpin had done and decided to do.

"It depends, I think," Sunset admitted. "But up in his office just now, he did what was best for you, not for himself."

Amber looked down at her hands, playing with the golden bracelets around her wrist. "That's not…" she began, before trailing off. "I suppose he was kind to me, letting me leave." She looked around, not only at Sunset but at Pyrrha and Ruby. "Thank you all for speaking up for me."

"No thanks are necessary," Pyrrha said,

"But you're welcome anyway," added Ruby.

"Now," Sunset said, "are you up for getting breakfast in the cafeteria, or do you want to go back to the dorm room, and we can pick you up something that you can eat there?"

Amber hesitated for a moment. "I … let's get breakfast in the dining hall, like we said we would."

"There are going to be a lot of people in there," Sunset warned her.

Amber swallowed, but at the same time tried to stand up straighter. "I … I don't want to hide forever," she said. She glanced at Dove. "And I want to meet Dove's friends, Lyra and Bon Bon."

Sunset nodded. "Okay then," she said. "Come with us, right this way."

They left the tower, unhindered by any Atlesian android, and ventured out onto the stone square, with the crossed axes of Beacon Academy painted in white upon the slate grey stones, where they found Penny waiting for them.

"Good morning, everyone!" she called brightly, waving with one hand as she jogged across the grey slabs towards them. "How did it go with Professor Ozpin and everyone?"

"It went pretty well, Penny," Ruby said. "Amber's allowed to leave the school grounds, so she'll be able to take in everything about the Vytal Festival."

"Although you've been volunteered as a potential bodyguard for Amber if we're not around, so prepare to be summoned for that at some point," Sunset said.

"That will be wonderful, I'm sure," Penny said, walking towards Amber. "Greetings. My name is Penny Polendina, and I hope that we can get to know one another much better and become good friends."

She did not, in spite of what one might have expected, leap on Amber for a tackling hug, but rather, held out one hand towards her.

Gingerly, delicately, Amber reached out and took her hand. "Likewise," she said. "I look forward to getting to know you, too."

"Wonderful!" Penny cried. "I can't wait!" She looked down at Amber's other hand, still holding Dove's. "So it's true what Ciel said," Penny gasped. "You did know Dove before all of this."

Amber let go of Penny's hand and pressed close against Dove, wrapping said hand around his elbow. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, we knew each other very well."

"And now you've found one another again, that's so sweet," Penny said. "It's just like a story."

"It is indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "A rebuke to those who say that such stories are inherently unrealistic."

"Does anybody really say that?" asked Amber.

"Some people do," said Jaune.

"But why?" asked Penny.

"I can't say for sure," Pyrrha replied, "but I think they must be rather unhappy."

"You couldn't believe it either," Penny said. "Do you like stories, Amber? Blake gave me a book of fairytales to read, or do you not need to bother with reading them when your life is a story already?"

Amber laughed, a sweet sound like water pouring down a rocky brook. "I'm very lucky," she said, "but if I hadn't loved stories about love and charming princes—"

"I'm hardly a prince," Dove said.

"You are to me," Amber insisted. "In my heart, and in yours." She kissed him on the cheek. "If I hadn't read about it, how would I have recognised it when it happened to me?"

Penny nodded eagerly. "So which is our favourite?"

"The Girl in the Tower, it has to be," Amber declared.

"Really?" asked Ruby, undisguised scepticism in her tone. "That one?"

"Yes," Amber said. "Why, is that so hard to believe? I don't see how anyone could not love it, the story of a fair princess rescued from her wicked father by a dashing hero!"

Sunset glanced up at the very tall tower that rose behind them, and to the old man within who had been the closest to a father Amber had ever known.

Perhaps this present hostility was coming even before Amber became the Fall Maiden, Professor.

"Although," Amber went on, "if I were telling the story, then the great hero who came for her would have fallen in love with her via letter before he ever set eyes on her."

"But then how would he be any different than all the knights and lords who came before, who sought only to obtain the old king's realm as their dowry by killing him and wedding his daughter?” Pyrrha said. “The point is that the hero, the one who rescued her, did so without thought of reward, still less of her heart but only of doing the right thing and rescuing someone who is in need."

"But isn't it so much more romantic to fight for love?" Amber asked. "Her words showed her true self to him long before they set eyes on one another."

“It would have been better if the princess had rescued herself,” said Ruby.

“A little unfair,” Pyrrha murmured. “Her father had never taught her how to fight, after all.”

“Yeah, but that’s only … I mean the story can be whatever, right?” Ruby asked.

“Unless it really happened,” Sunset pointed out.

They all looked at her.

“'Really happened'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“Well, why not?” Sunset answered. “The Story of the Seasons happened, sort of. Who’s to say what other stories are based on truth? Why not the Girl in the Tower?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Ruby muttered.

“Indeed, although I suppose we will never know the answer,” Pyrrha said. “One way or another. But, for my part, it is not true. What real life for the princess and the hero could ever live up to the happily ever after attributed to them in the story?”

They arrived at the dining hall shortly thereafter. The cafeteria was almost empty; it was not entirely empty — which was good, because when you’re the absolute first to arrive at a place like a cafeteria, you can’t help but be haunted by the fear that they haven’t actually opened yet — but the tables were sparsely occupied, mostly empty, with vast acres of unclaimed space within the cavernous hall. There were a couple of less notable Beacon First Year teams who had, like SAPR and Dove, gotten up early, and Sunset supposed that she ought to have recognised her classmates — and she did, a little bit; one of them was named Jack Darby, and he was the leader of Team … Team … it would come to her in a second — but the only person in the hall who Sunset really recognised was Pyrrha’s friend Arslan, who was sitting alone with a cooked breakfast of sausage, bacon, and eggs in front of her.

“Arslan?” Pyrrha asked softly.

“Do you know her?” Amber asked.

“Oh, yes, that’s Arslan Altan,” Pyrrha replied. “She is something of a rival, but also a good friend.”

Pyrrha led the way in Arslan’s direction, the others all following behind her without demur.

“Arslan?” she said again, as they drew closer to her. “What are you doing here?”

Arslan looked up at her, “Hey, P-money; I’m here to have breakfast, what do you think I’m doing here?”

“I meant why are you here by yourself?” asked Pyrrha patiently.

“Oh, right,” Arslan muttered. “Because my team either doesn’t like me or doesn’t want to get up early.”

“On no!” Amber cried. “That sounds awful!”

Arslan looked at her, leaning back on the long stool to get a better look at her from around Pyrrha.

“Arslan,” Pyrrha said. “Allow me to present Amber…” She paused, a light smile coming to play across her lips. “You know, I don’t believe you’ve ever mentioned your last name.”

“Oh, didn’t I?” Amber said. “It’s Briarrose, Amber Briarrose.”

Arslan rose to her feet. “Nice to meet you, Amber; I’m Arslan Altan.”

Amber smiled, and curtsied. “It’s nice to meet you, Arslan. Do you mind if we join you?”

“Are you sure?” asked Sunset.

“If that’s alright,” Amber replied. “I’d … I’d like to make some new friends.”

“It’s fine by me,” Arslan said. “As you can see, I’m not overburdened by company at the moment, but I’m not desperate for my solitude either. Sit yourselves down, or get something to eat first and then sit yourselves down; I doubt the table is going to be taken in the next few moments.”

“It’s this way,” Sunset said, indicating the right-hand side of the dining room, where the various hot options sat under heat-lamps to keep them passably warm, while the various cold options sat growing ever so slightly lukewarm, which might be for the best, compared to how cold it began. Here, there were sausages and rashers of bacon lying in metal trays; here, there were fried eggs beginning to fuse into one; here, there were baked beans,and porridge in deep dishes. Here, there was fruit salad, and here grapefruit; here was various brands of Pumpkin Pete’s and other cereals—

“That’s you, Pyrrha,” Amber said, picking up the box of Marshmallow Flakes.

Pyrrha laughed a trifle nervously. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, that’s me.”

Amber looked at Pyrrha, and then looked at the box. “But why?” she asked. “Why did they put you on the box?”

“Well,” Pyrrha murmured, “I happen to have won some small acclaim in tournaments back home; they put me on the box to honour me.”

“I see,” Amber said, “so being on this box was your reward for victory?”

“Not exactly,” Pyrrha replied. “But … it’s a little complicated to explain; why don’t we get something to eat and sit down rather than standing here, holding everyone else up, while I attempt to explain it?”

“All right,” Amber said. “Would you recommend this?”

“No,” Pyrrha said immediately. “Not only is it not very good for you, but having tried it, I can’t even say that it’s very good.”

“Come on now,” Jaune said. “It tastes great. I ate my way through fifty boxes of it, and I still liked it just as much at the end as I did at the beginning.”

“But I do wonder sometimes that you still have enough of your own teeth for that charming smile of yours,” Pyrrha said softly, and with a rather sweet smile of her own.

Amber chuckled and put the cereal box down, taking a bowl from the nearby pile and ladling some porridge into it instead.

“Is there any honey?” she asked.

“It’s here,” Jaune said, grabbing a handful of little plastic tubs of honey from one of the high shelves over the cereal and putting them down on Amber’s tray. Amber looked at them curiously, picking one up and turning it over; if she had seen anything quite like it before, then she had obviously forgotten.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Dove reached for the porcine options on display under the heated lamps, but then thought better of it — possibly out of deference to Amber’s vegetarianism — and had the vegetarian sausages and the meat-free bacon instead. Pyrrha had the real thing, following Arslan’s lead in having sausages and bacon — although not a fried egg. Sunset contented herself with a bowl of grapefruit, while Jaune flew the flag for sugary cereals with a bowl of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes. Ruby had porridge, like Amber, but unlike Amber, she garnished it with a handful of raisins and sultanas, and almost certainly with that banana that she’d just grabbed and which she would doubtless cut up into slices once she got back to the table.

Penny made do with an apple, which didn’t look like much but was quite enough to fake eating, Sunset supposed.

They returned to the table; Pyrrha sat down opposite Arslan, with Jaune on her right and Amber and Dove on her left; Sunset sat down on Arslan’s right opposite Amber, with Ruby opposite Dove. Penny sat down opposite Jaune.

“So, Pyrrha,” Amber said, “why did they put your picture on the box?”

“She only just found out about the cereal box?” Arslan asked.

“Amber has had a … somewhat sheltered upbringing,” Pyrrha explained. “The truth is … it was not technically a reward for my victories, it was not on offer as a prize for winning any fight, but…”

“But after she won the tournament three times, the first person to do so since Herakles two hundred years ago, the cereal company came banging on her door asking her to promote their stuff,” Arslan said.

“That sounds very impressive,” Amber said, “although…”

“Although what?” Pyrrha asked.

“You talk about tournaments,” Amber murmured. “That’s fighting, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Pyrrha said. “Fighting for honour, for glory, and for the entertainment of the crowds under safe, controlled, rule-bound conditions.”

“But why?” Amber asked.

“For honour, for glory, and the entertainment of the crowd,” Arslan said, before cutting off a slice of sausage and sticking it into her mouth.

Amber frowned. “Fighting for pleasure, not for anything but just because you enjoy it … I can’t … I can’t understand it.”

“I feel the same way sometimes,” Ruby said. “It feels a little bit pointless.”

“It’s fun!” Arslan exclaimed, her mouth still half-full before she swallowed.

“Do you really enjoy it?” asked Amber. “Do you like fighting?”

“Yes,” Arslan said.

“But why?”

Arslan shrugged. “Because I’m good at it. Because it’s the thing I’m best at. Because it gets my blood pumping like not much else. Because I like to hear the roar of the crowd in my ears. Isn’t that enough?”

“You … you don’t get scared then?” Amber asked. “You don’t feel afraid?”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “That is a big question to ask someone you’ve just met.”

“In tournaments, there is nothing to be afraid of,” Pyrrha supplied. “Everything is well-regulated, with rules in place; everything is organised. No one is in any real danger.”

“Are you sure?” asked Amber. “How … how can you be sure that it’s safe?”

“Because … it is,” Arslan said. “It is safe, nothing bad ever happens.”

“Well,” Pyrrha murmured. “That isn’t quite true. My mother had to retire from the tournament circuit when an errant stroke broke through her aura and severed her hamstring.”

Amber flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, okay, sometimes, bad things happen,” Arslan admitted. “But very rarely, and it's not like anyone’s ever died in the modern era. My point is, the occasional accident aside, there isn’t really much to be scared of.”

“And on the battlefield?” Amber asked nervously. “Are you not scared then?”

Arslan was silent for a moment. “Again, that’s a big question to ask when we’ve only just met.”

Amber looked down at her bowl of porridge. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I shouldn’t pry.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Arslan declared, though she gave no sign of actually answering the question. “Anyway, if you don’t mind me saying so, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

“No,” Amber whispered. “No, I … um, I, uh—”

“Amber is Professor Ozpin’s niece,” Sunset said, coming to her rescue with the agreed story as laid out by Professor Goodwitch. “She’s staying with the headmaster for a little bit, while her … late mother’s affairs are settled. Professor Ozpin asked us to take her under our wing while she’s here.”

Arslan’s eyes seemed to linger for a moment upon the scars on Amber’s face. “I see,” she said softly. “I’m sorry. That … I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence. Amber began eating her porridge. No one else seemed to know quite what to say. The story that Professor Goodwitch had given them was convenient, to a certain extent, but it was also rather grim and something of a mood-killer.

“You know, Amber,” Pyrrha said, “you did a lot better than Jaune to recognise me on that cereal box. He once ate fifty boxes in order to win a prize hoodie, and yet, he still had no idea who I was when he saw me in the flesh.”

Jaune snorted. “You know, if you count the cereals I ate before I started trying to win the hoodie, it probably came to a lot more than fifty.”

Amber swallowed a mouthful of porridge. “Ah, but you see, that’s really romantic,” she declared. “Because it means that Jaune didn’t see you, really see you, until he beheld your true self, and that’s when he loved you.”

There was another silence. Jaune’s face reddened a little. “I mean … I might have kind of had a crush on the girl on the box—”

“And on Weiss Schnee,” Sunset added.

Arslan rolled her eyes. “Don’t try and come with that false humility; you’re the most romantic couple in the school, own it.”

Pyrrha smiled knowingly. “I think there might be a challenger for our crown now,” she said, glancing at Amber and Dove.

Arslan’s eyebrows rose, her eyes darting between Amber and Dove. “Oh,” she said, “fast, but—”

“We knew each other before Beacon,” Dove explained.

“Ah, not so fast then,” Arslan replied. “Well, no offence, but I’ll take you seriously as contenders when I see it. Not that I go out of my way to see that kind of thing; it’s none of my business. Just … anyway, you’ve picked a good time to come visiting, I must say, despite the … circumstances, what with the Vytal Festival and all. Oh, that reminds me, Pyrrha, the film crew is coming the day after tomorrow; we need to start filming our stuff for that Vytal Festival documentary.”

“'The day after tomorrow'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“Is that a problem?” Arslan asked.

“I suppose not,” Pyrrha murmured. “It’s just that that’s when my mother is arriving. That’s—”

“Lucky,” Arslan said.

“I was going to say 'unfortunate,'” Pyrrha murmured. “Sunset, Jaune, would you mind going to meet her at the Skydock when she arrives?”

“Sure thing,” Sunset said, “but that TV thing is still happening?”

“Well, it hasn’t happened yet, has it?” Arslan responded.

“Yeah, but … they’re cutting it fine, aren’t they?”

“It’s not like a cartoon or something; documentaries don’t have long production lead times,” Arslan said. “Besides, as I understand it, it’s mostly done now; they’ve got the voiceover from Autumn Blaze, talking head segments with historians back home; they’ve got everything except for us.”

“What is it that we’ll be required to do, precisely?” asked Pyrrha, a trifle trepidatiously.

“Once the Amity Colosseum arrives, we’re going to do some stuff there, talking to the camera, exploring the colosseum, that kind of thing,” Arslan explained. “But the day after tomorrow is just talking to Professor Ozpin and getting some stuff from students about what the festival means to them.”

“Might be a good one for you, Ruby,” Sunset said.

Ruby chuckled. “I don’t know if I’ve got the way with words; you should do it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short; you're very articulate once you build up a head of steam,” Sunset replied. “This thing isn’t going to keep you all day, is it? We’ve got Last Shot the day after tomorrow.”

“Hey guys,” Yang hailed, as Team YRBN breezed into the dining hall as part of the ever-growing trickle of students who were beginning to fill up the cafeteria as the morning wore on and the hour became a little less early. “Mind if we join you?”

“Hey, Yang,” Ruby said. “Sure, I mean, if it’s okay with Amber.”

Amber looked up from her porridge. “Hello, Blake,” she said, smiling.

“You two know each other?” Nora asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“We’ve met,” Blake said. “This is Amber.”

“Amber Briarrose,” Amber said, standing up.

“You don’t have to get up,” Yang said, waving one hand. “It’s fine, really. So, Amber huh?” Her violet eyes widened. “Hey! Amber! Right, um, it’s nice to meet you. Really great, uh … I’m Yang, Yang Xiao Long, and this is Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, and apparently, you’ve already met Blake.”

Amber nodded, “She and Ciel gave me some help with my makeup last night.”

“Huh,” Nora said, as she glanced at Blake. “It does look pretty good, doesn’t it, with those wings like flames on her eyes. Mind you, Pyrrha does the same thing.”

“Yes, but Blake’s eyes are closer to Amber’s in shade,” Pyrrha explained.

“Oh, right, yeah, I guess that does matter,” Nora acknowledged.

Yang put her hands on her hips. “I gotta say, I’m a little surprised to see you here, Dove.”

“Oh, hey, Dove, I didn’t see you there for a second,” Nora said. She paused for a moment. “Wait a … Dove?”

Dove blinked. “Uh, yes, Nora?”

“Amber?”

“Yes?” Amber said. “Is everything alright?”

“AMBER?!” Nora cried, making Amber flinch into Dove’s shoulder.

“Nora, don’t shout,” Ren said. “It’s still a little early.”

“But it’s Amber!” Nora yelled. “Remember? The girl who Dove came to Beacon to look for!”

Yang’s jaw dropped. “You … you’re that Amber?”

Amber smiled as she wrapped her hands around Dove’s elbow. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. You … mentioned me?”

Dove looked at her. “I told a lot of people; I hoped that someone might have seen you, heard something about you. And besides, why would I ever want to keep you a secret?”

“Okay, now I buy that they’re contenders,” Arslan said.

“But how?” Nora demanded. “What are you doing here, and after a year, and why weren’t you here when Dove got here even though you promised to meet him here, but you’re here now, and—?”

“Why don’t we get some breakfast before we start bombarding her with questions?” Ren suggested in an even tone.

“Perhaps we don’t have to bombard her with questions at all?” Blake added. “This is breakfast, after all, not an inquisition.”

“But I want to know now,” Nora whined. “Don’t you want to know?”

“What I’d like first is something to eat,” Yang said. “Come on, food first.”

Thank you, Yang and Blake, Sunset thought. And Ren too, I suppose. It occurred to her, as it probably should have occurred to them sooner than this, that the Professor Goodwitch approved story of Amber being Professor Ozpin’s niece come to stay with him while her mother’s affairs were straightened out did not mesh perfectly with the story about Amber being in a coma for a year.

How are we supposed to explain why Amber didn’t meet Dove when he first came to Beacon as they had arranged?

How to explain why, if she’s been in a coma for a year, Professor Ozpin hasn’t sorted out his late sister’s estate yet?

“Hey, Amber,” Arslan said, a degree of solemnity in her voice.

Amber looked at her. “Yes, Arslan?”

“Certain icy kingdoms like to act as though they’re the only ones who do good by their neighbours,” Arslan said, “but that’s a load of crap; us Mistralians invented hospitality, so, I know you probably won’t need it since it seems you’ve got Team Sapphire looking out for you, but if there’s anything that I can do for you, just ask, okay?”

Sunset frowned. Where did that come from? She looked at Pyrrha, who had no immediate obvious spark of recognition in her face that suggested she knew what was going on.

“Mistralian,” Amber repeated. “So you’re from Mistral too? Just like Pyrrha?”

“No,” Arslan said. “P-money’s from Mistral just like me.”

“I’d love to visit Mistral some day,” Amber declared. “Pyrrha’s going to take me there!”

“Really? I’d love to see Mistral too!” Penny declared. “If that’s alright with you, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “That would be lovely, Penny. I’ll take you both to visit Mistral; we can all go, together. Provided that Ruby and Sunset don’t object to seeing it again.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ruby said. “There must be plenty more stuff to see that we didn’t get around to last time, right?”

“Oh, indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “Even I haven’t seen everything there is to see in Mistral.”

“Not everything is worth seeing,” Arslan muttered.

“I … would certainly have no objection to seeing Mistral again,” Sunset said. Though I fear the rosepetals might have fallen from my eyes a little bit since we were there last. “But Amber … might have secured her new situation by the time it’s possible to go.” How are you going to persuade Professor Ozpin to allow this, Pyrrha?

“I don’t see that that means Amber won’t be in the mood for a vacation,” Pyrrha replied, a touch of primness creeping into her voice. “And Mistral is a very romantic city, after all.”

“It is?” Jaune asked.

“It was for us, no?” Pyrrha replied.

Okay, Pyrrha, but how are you going to persuade Professor Ozpin? Letting Amber go into Vale is one thing, but this? A whole other kingdom?

Have you thought about this at all?

Or have you thought about this and decided that the answer is you don’t care what Professor Ozpin thinks or wants?

Ren was the first of Team YRBN to return, sitting down on the other side of Arslan opposite Ruby. “I apologise for Nora,” he said. “She can be a little overenthusiastic at times, but she has a good heart. She has the best heart that I’ve ever come across.”

“I see,” Amber replied, a smile playing across her face. “That’s quite alright, Lie.”

“Ren,” Ren said. “I go by Ren.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Ren assured her. “Just something to remember, if you can.” He paused a moment. “I … I think that we can guess your story. You don’t need to relive it for our benefit.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “You … you can guess?”

Ren nodded. “The world can be a treacherous place, as Nora and I have more cause than most to know. As I say, we don’t need the details; the gist is a familiar enough story to most.”

Right. This is an awful world where people are getting attacked and killed almost every day.

Sometimes I forget.

Vale and the other three kingdoms are safe havens in a world of darkness, isn’t that right, Professor Port?

Nora returned next, her plate piled high with pancakes oozing syrup down off the plate and onto the plastic tray that she was carrying.

“Sorry about earlier,” she said contritely as she sat down next to Ren. “I didn’t want to … I was just surprised, is all.”

“It’s quite alright, really,” Amber said. “I wasn’t expecting to be recognised by anyone.”

“Are you kidding?” Nora said. “Dove said you were his whole reason for coming to Beacon in the first place!” She leaned forward. “You must feel so lucky right now, huh, Dove?”

Dove beamed. “The luckiest, the very absolute luckiest.”

Nora smiled. “You know, normally, I think that it’s us girls who love longest, even when all hope is gone; it’s our … it’s our thing, even if it isn’t something that a lot of boys would envy. But Dove … Dove’s been the real thing this whole year, even when it must have seemed like he’d never see you again. I think you’re pretty lucky yourself, Amber.”

Amber cocked her head to one side, her face falling, her expression softening even as the scars that criss-crossed her face seemed to stand out more. “Are you alright, Nora?”

Nora had just been about to dig into her small mound of pancakes. She paused, the fork halfway to her open mouth. “Uh, yeah, why?”

“You … seem sad,” Amber said.

“'Sad'?” Nora cried. “What? No! Come on, what have I got to be sad about?” She gave a laugh as hearty as it was obviously false.

Amber glanced at Ren, before she said, “Of course, how silly of me, please forgive me; I don’t know what I was saying.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Nora said. “I say dumb stuff all the time.” She stuck the forkful of pancakes into her mouth.

Yang and Blake were the next to arrive, Blake with some healthy muesli and Yang with what looked like six sausages — but more of them could have been hidden under the baked beans that she had slathered them with.

Blake sat down on Sunset and Arslan’s side of the table, while Yang sat down on the side with Ruby and Amber. Except she did not sit down, although she put her tray down on the table with a soft tap. Yang herself remained standing, looking down on Amber.

“Amber,” she said, “what has blonde hair and is here to help?”

“Jaune?” Amber guessed.

“No, not Jaune, me!” Yang said. “I’m blonde, and I’m here to help. You need anything, you just gotta ask, okay?”

“Okay,” Amber said. “Everyone … everyone is being so very kind to me.”

“The friendliest place on Remnant,” Yang said, as she actually sat down. “A place where we learn how to beat one another up. That has to be some kind of irony.” She took a drink from a glass of orange juice.

“Not really,” Ruby said. “I mean, we aren’t just here to learn how to beat one another up; that’s not even the main thing we’re here to learn. We’re here to learn how to stand together against monsters, and so of course we’re going to be all friends. So we can all have each other’s backs when we need to.”

“You’re all so brave, too,” Amber said quietly. “I could never do what you all do.”

“I don’t know; you look ready for a fight,” Arslan pointed out.

Amber glanced down at the pauldron on her shoulder. “I … I know how,” she admitted. “But I’d much rather not.”

“That’s fair,” Yang said. “The huntress life isn’t for everyone. So, what were you guys talking about before we showed up?”

“Mistral,” said Amber.

“Last Shot,” said Sunset.

“Oh, yeah, right, that’s coming up,” Nora said. “Are you guys going to enter?”

“Of course,” Sunset replied. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“You hardly need to,” Yang said. “Everyone knows that Professor Ozpin is going to pick Team Sapphire to go into the Vytal Festival.”

“Nobody knows anything,” Sunset declared. “Professor Ozpin could pick…” — she waved her arms in the direction of Jack Darby and his teammates, whose name had still not come to her yet — “them to represent Beacon in the Vytal Festival if he wanted to. If a team that hasn’t impressed much over the year has a good showing in Last Shot, and a team that looked like a nailed on bet doesn’t bother to show up out of sheer complacency, what do you think Professor Ozpin is going to think, huh? Who is he going to look favourably on?”

As it happened, Sunset did think that Team SAPR was as close to a surefire bet to get picked to represent Beacon as any team in the school, all things considered, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t meant every word that she’d just said to Yang. Complacency could be the downfall of the greatest, as she had learned at Canterlot to her cost, especially when it came to the estimation of teachers. Especially since Professor Ozpin would probably not allow external circumstances like the services Team SAPR had rendered him to affect his judgement in any way when it came to Vytal selections.

“And besides,” she added, “I’ve never objected to showing off our skills.”

Yang laughed. “Okay, so we come to the real reason.”

“All my other reasons were valid too,” Sunset said.

“And that is why I told you we should do it,” Nora said.

“You weren’t going to do Last Shot?” asked Ruby incredulously. “Don’t you want to get picked?”

“I want to get picked; I just figured we’d probably get picked anyway, and I didn’t want to let everyone know what we could do before the tournament,” Yang said. “But now … I’m reconsidering.”

“Excuse me,” Penny said, “but what is Last Shot?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Arslan said.

“Its real name is Voluntary Student Proficiency Demonstrations,” Pyrrha explained.

“So you can see why we call it Last Shot,” Jaune added.

“It’s a thing where,” Ruby began. “Okay, back up a second; Professor Ozpin picks the eight teams that are gonna fight for Beacon in the Vytal Tournament, right? But how does he pick them?”

Penny thought about it for a second. “Out of a hat?”

“No, I think that’s Shade,” Ruby replied. “Professor Ozpin picks by … well, I think he just picks. He decides who he thinks deserves to get to fight in the tournament, but before he picks, there’s something called Last Shot where all the teams who want to get picked … actually, I suppose that’s not strictly true because it’s voluntary, and you don’t have to participate, but basically, it’s a set of random four on four matches, teams against teams, and it's the last chance to impress Professor Ozpin before he makes his decision. That’s why it’s called Last Shot.”

“Makes sense,” Arslan said, “but if you’re going to go and have matches anyway, then you ought to just do what we do and have qualifiers. Which we are having today, as it happens; by today’s end, we will know who the eight Haven teams moving on to the tournament proper are.”

“So I guess we can’t use the amphitheatre for last minute practice,” Nora said.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Ren suggested.

“Are you concerned?” Pyrrha asked Arslan.

Arslan snorted. “Give me some credit, Pyrrha; I could take on the entire competition on my own. With one hand behind my back.” She paused. “Okay, I’d probably need both hands, but I could definitely take any other team in Haven on my own.”

“I heard that,” Sun said, as he and Neptune entered along with what had grown from a trickle to a flood of students coming in, filling up the tables with alacrity. “Don’t forget, we’re going to be in those qualifiers too.”

“Yeah,” Arslan said. “I know.”

Sun snorted. “No respect at all,” he muttered, walking around the table until he was behind Blake. His tail flicked out to tickle her on the cheek. “Hey, Blake.”

Blake smiled even as she rolled her eyes. “Good morning to you too, Sun.”

Sun sat down beside her and kissed her on the cheek. “Morning.”

“And good morning to you too, little lady,” Neptune said, catching sight of Amber and beginning to walk around the table. “I don’t think I’ve seen you—”

Sunset put one arm to arrest his progress. “She’s not in the mood, and neither are we.”

Neptune hesitated for a second. Amber looked more confused than anything else, although Dove had put one arm around her and taken her hand with his.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I see; it’s like that, right. Sorry, dude; I didn’t mean to … just taking a chance, you know.”

He sat down next to Sun.

Sunset was of the opinion that Amber shouldn’t need to be explicitly in a relationship in order to be spared Neptune’s dubious charms — it was called showing some restraint. And respect, for that matter. And possessing just a smidgeon of dignity — but she refrained from saying so.

"Ignore Neptune," Sun said. "He's just … very friendly when it comes to meeting new girls, I mean, new people. I'm Sun, by the way."

"I'm Amber," said Amber. "Are you … Blake's boyfriend?"

Sun grinned boyishly as his tail once more snaked up over Blake's shoulder, resting upon it in place of a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Amber looked at them both, and for a moment, it looked as though she might say something, but then she thought better of it and resumed eating her porridge.

"So," Blake said, looking at Sun. "You've got Vytal qualifiers today."

"Yep," Sun replied.

"You don't seem very tense about it," Blake observed.

"I'm not," Sun said. "It's going to be a piece of cake."

"Don't get overconfident," Neptune warned him. "Some teams actually had a semester together because their team leader didn't ditch them to run off to Vale early."

Sun laughed nervously. "Okay, but those teams are all a bunch of losers; who is there who's better than us?"

Arslan cleared her throat loudly.

Neptune said, "Maybe teams that aren't at war with one another? You know Scarlet literally hates you at this point, right?"

"Hates you?" Ruby said. "Why would anyone hate you?"

"Scarlet should be thanking me," Sun declared. "I'm leaving, and he can become team leader, just like he always wanted."

You're doing what now?

"Leader of a three-man team, a weakened team," Neptune replied. "Plus, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for condemning me to serve under Scarlet's leadership."

"You said you were cool with it," Sun said.

"I said that because I'm a good friend, and I want to see you happy," Neptune said. "It doesn't mean I want to see you leave."

"You're leaving?" Yang asked. "Where are you going?"

"Don't you want to be a huntsman any more?" Ruby added.

"He's moving to Atlas to be with Blake," Neptune said.

"Well of course he is," Amber murmured. "How could he do anything else?"

Nobody took any notice of her, in part because, at that point, the remaining members of Team RSPT arrived, as the cafeteria was really starting to fill up.

"Hey, everyone, are these seats free, and are you really moving to Atlas?" Rainbow asked, already holding a breakfast tray in her hand.

"Good morning, Amber," Twilight said, "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Good morning," Amber replied. "I … slept."

"Hmm," Twilight murmured. "I see."

I suppose she'll have to take a look at Amber today at some point, Sunset thought.

"The seats are free," Yang said, in answer to Rainbow's question, "and your other question is one we're all kind of waiting to hear the answer to from Sun."

"Thanks," Rainbow said, as she, Twilight, and Ciel all sat down. "I gotta admit I'm surprised. I know I told you to work out what you wanted to do, but I didn't expect you'd do that." She paused. "I have to say, I'm not entirely sure you're gonna fit in at Atlas."

"Then it's a good job I'm not going to Atlas, certainly not to Atlas Academy," Sun said. "I'm moving to Mantle."

"‘Mantle’?" Sunset repeated. "You're moving to Mantle?"

"I didn't know you'd ever been to Mantle," Rainbow said.

"I don't need to go to a garbage dump to see that it is, in fact, a garbage dump," Sunset declared magisterially.

"Speaking as someone from Mantle, you are … far more correct than I should like," Ciel admitted.

"Precisely," Sunset said. "Mantle is one of those places where nobody you meet who comes from there is ever homesick in the slightest."

"Come on, guys, let's not discourage Sun," Yang said. "Blake, did you know about this?"

Blake nodded. "Sun told me about it a little while ago."

"So you are giving up on becoming a huntsman?" asked Ruby.

"I … yeah," Sun admitted. "Yeah, I guess I am. Becoming a huntsman or a huntress is fine and all, but it'll take another three years before I can actually get out and start helping people, but there are people in Mantle who need help now, and it's great that Blake wants to change the world, but while she's trying to do that, somebody needs to stand up for the little guy on the street."

"Mantle could do with a hero," Ciel murmured. "The current one is unsatisfactory for a whole host of reasons."

"How do you mean?" asked Sun.

"Are you going to bang on about how bad Atlas is every chance you get?" demanded Rainbow Dash.

"No."

"And are you going to kill people?"

"No!" Sun cried.

"Then you'll be doing better than Robyn Hill already," Rainbow said. She held out one hand. "Best of luck, Sun."

Sun took her hand and shook it. "Thanks."

Rainbow grinned. "You proud of him, Blake?"

"It's Sun's decision," Blake said. "It's not for me to approve or disapprove of it."

"But yes?" Rainbow guessed.

Blake smiled, her mouth closed but the corners of her lips rising noticeably. "Yes."

"I guess that does sound pretty cool," Ruby said. "It's a pity you can't graduate and get your licence, but it's still pretty cool what you're doing."

"It's also technically illegal," Twilight pointed out.

"Doing the right thing is illegal?" Ruby asked, her voice rising with a touch of disbelief.

"Unauthorised use of weapons is illegal," Twilight explained. "And so is carrying out huntsman activity without a licence. Sun … you do know that if you do this, you'll be a criminal, don't you?"

"No," admitted Sun, "I didn't know that, because it's not like that in Mistral, and it's certainly not like that in Vacuo, but … if doing the right thing is illegal—"

"Then the law is wrong," Ruby added.

"They've got a point, Twi," Rainbow said. "I've said to Ciel that if Mantle could fight back, maybe it wouldn't be in the state it's in, but even if I'm wrong about that … what kind of system looks at the guy actually trying to help and solve problems and says 'no, you're the bad guy'?"

"I never said that Sun was the bad guy," Twilight replied. "I just wanted to make sure that he understood what he was getting into."

"Mantle's a rough town?" asked Arslan.

"A rough city," Ciel corrected her, "but yes."

"With problems?"

"More than a few," said Ciel.

"And the police," Arslan went on, "ineffectual or corrupt?"

"The former, I hope," Ciel answered.

"Then once you start doing good, people will be too grateful for someone helping them out to turn you in," Arslan said, "but until you can establish yourself, you need to find a community that will protect you, people who know what you're planning to do and agree with it and are willing to shield you, not just from the cops, but from any enemies you make as well."

"How—?" Pyrrha began.

"Not every vigilante who ever tried to take on the gangs could retreat up to a big house on the upper slopes," Arslan explained. "Some of them had to find ways to survive down below, amongst the people they were fighting for."

"Huh," Sun said. "Well, uh, thanks for the advice."

"So," Blake said, "I suppose, in a way, this Vytal Festival will be your … last hurrah?"

"More like last fling of fun before he gets down to business," Neptune replied. "Which is why you should be taking these qualifiers more seriously than you are. This will be our only shot at this; we don't want to blow it."

"I told you, we'll be fine," Sun assured him.

"Is this tournament the most important thing about the Vytal Festival?” Amber asked. “More than anything else?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Ruby said. "Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is. It's the big draw; it's what most people show up for."

"I see," Amber said, quietly and without much enthusiasm. "You … are you … you're not competing, are you, Dove?"

"No," Dove said. "No, my team … we … no, I'm not. We're not."

"I am glad," Amber said, leaning on his arm and shoulder. "Even if they say it's safe, I … I couldn't bear it if you were hurt. I don't think I could bring myself to watch."

"But there's lots of other stuff going on too," Ruby said. "Even if the tournament is what interests a lot of people, if you're not interested in it at all, then it doesn't matter; there's still plenty for you. I'm sure that … okay, maybe not everyone here has some great Vytal Festival memories, and not all related to the tournament, either."

Pyrrha put her hands on the table. "I was eight years old," she said, "when my mother took me to Atlas to watch the finals of the thirty-fifth Vytal Festival."

"But the thirty-fifth Vytal Festival would have been ten years ago," Ruby pointed out.

"And it was my birthday yesterday," Pyrrha said. "I'm eighteen now."

She had spoken mildly, gently, without a hint of reproach in her voice, but Sunset felt grievously reproached nonetheless. "Pyrrha! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to make a fuss," Pyrrha replied. "Especially with … there was a great deal going on yesterday."

"But come on," Jaune said. "You should have mentioned it; we would have done something."

"We should do something now," Amber declared. "Something to celebrate."

"I didn't mention it in order to—"

"Maybe not, but you have mentioned it," Jaune said. "Which means it's too late to back out now."

"There's really no need to do anything."

"But we want to do something," Jaune said.

"And besides the want, which we do want," Sunset said, "there is a need: the need to salve our consciences."

"Your consciences have nothing to feel bruised about," Pyrrha replied.

"Give up, Pyrrha," Amber instructed her firmly. "This is going to happen. I, for one, won't hear of anything else."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "May I at least finish what I was about to say?"

"You may," Sunset allowed. "But why did you go to Atlas that year, and so young too?"

"That was the last time it felt like Mistral had a shot," Arslan said.

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "That was the tournament where the Lady Terri-Belle, daughter of the Steward, swept all before her into the finals. The city dared hope that she would be the one to reclaim Mistral's glory, and many of the great and good made the flight to Atlas to witness for themselves, not only my mother but the Lord Steward himself and many others."

"Really?" Sunset said. "Can we expect the great and good to descend on Vale now?"

"I doubt it," Pyrrha replied. "Regardless of what may be said, I think that many people are privately steeling themselves against disappointment; they will not want to raise their hopes too high again. Besides which, I am … in any case, no matter the disappointing outcome of the final match, it was my first time in Atlas, and Mother indulged me in exploring the city somewhat."

"What did you think?" asked Blake.

Pyrrha smiled softly. "It was like being in a fairyland," she said. "So many lights, so many bright colours, so many amazing sounds. The robots were, I admit, rather intimidating as they clanked along, but even they … it really was as though I had stepped into another world, completely different to the one that I'd left behind. Like The Girl Who Fell Through the World, except I had fallen upwards into the sky. I'd never had to wrap up so warm before in my life; the mink fur trim of my coat was so soft against my neck and cheeks. We went to a concert, of various musically inclined Atlas students, at the Nicholas Schnee auditorium, where I must admit that the acoustics were better than anywhere in Mistral. I suppose it was designed with very scientific principles in mind. And the fireworks were—"

"Fired from the cruisers," Rainbow said.

Pyrrha looked at her. "You were there?"

"Not for the thirty-fifth — I didn't get up to Atlas for another couple of years —" Rainbow said, "but you could see the fireworks — some of them, anyway — from down below in Low Town, they were so bright. Me and Gilda sat on the roof of my parents' house, sharing a blanket, huddled up together like penguins or something, just watching all the bright colours exploding in the sky. Plus … that's how they always do the fireworks when Atlas holds the Vytal Festival."

"A fact which makes it no less impressive in my memory, those immense volleys of fireworks," Pyrrha said. "My … my father had just passed away that year, but while I wished he was with us, at the same time … the sadness, it was as if it belonged to a different world, if that makes the least bit of sense. The world that I had left behind, if only for a while."

"It feels like that even without travelling," Arslan said. "Not least because it's a public holiday in Mistral; everyone gets the whole thing off, no school, no work."

"Really?" Jaune asked. "The entire festival?"

"Bread and the games," Pyrrha murmured.

"Not so much bread, but yeah, definitely games," Arslan said. "Our lords and masters have to keep the people happy somehow."

"We used to watch the tournament in Applejack's barn," Twilight said. "With a big screen up, everyone sitting on the ground or on bales of hay."

Rainbow grinned. "Well, that's how we watched the thirty-eighth festival, but we went to Atlas for the one two years ago."

"Yeah, I know," Twilight said. "But I preferred the thirty-eighth. Remember how Pinkie decided that we should throw our own fair on Sweet Apple Acres?"

"Yes!" Rainbow cried. "Did she ever tell you where she'd gotten all of those stuffed animals?"

"No," Twilight said. "She said she'd never tell."

"'Stuffed animals'?" Amber asked.

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "We worked out that if we were going to do a fairground, then we needed some fairground prizes, and Pinkie just says 'leave it to me,' and then the next thing we know, she has this giant truckload of stuffed animals that she got from somewhere, and she's all like 'do you think this will be enough'?"

"And the funniest part was that it was just enough," Twilight said. "As in, every single bear or bunny or whatever was won by somebody. Exactly. Not a single one left, not a single kid or anyone else disappointed. Exactly as many animals as were needed for prizes."

"I swear, Pinkie is doing the exploding sprinkles thing with dust," Rainbow said. "Her real semblance is precognition or something."

"The point is that there's plenty to enjoy about the Vytal Festival, even if you're not interested in the tournament," Ruby said. "I guarantee that you'll make some wonderful memories." She put her hand on Penny's shoulder, as if to include her along with Amber without needing to say it.

Amber looked at Pyrrha, and then at Ruby, and then let her eyes sweep all across the table.

"Well, if you say so, then what am I supposed to do but trust you?" She paused, smiling for a moment without speaking. "But what are we going to do about Pyrrha's birthday?"

"There's really no need to do anything," Pyrrha insisted.

"But I want to do something," Amber replied. "What do you usually do to celebrate your birthday?"

"Mother would usually hold a ball or a soiree at home, and it was frightfully dull," Pyrrha replied. "This should be…" She trailed off.

Amber cocked her head to one side. "Pyrrha?"

"If it is my choice," Pyrrha said, "then why don't we go into Vale, the seven of us: you, me, Jaune, Dove, Sunset, Ruby, and Penny. We can do some shopping, get something to eat, have a nice day out."

A nice day for Amber as much or more than for you.

Amber's eyes brightened a little. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "But are you sure that it's what you want?"

"This is absolutely what I want," Pyrrha stated firmly.

"Then I can hardly wait!" Amber cried. "Actually, I'm afraid … could I do one thing before we go?"

"Certainly," Pyrrha said, "what is it?"

"I'd like to meet Dove's friends."

Tempest stared at the table on the other side of the cafeteria, where Teams SAPR and RSPT were sitting with all their hangers-on — and her.

It was not possible. How was it possible? Tempest had known she wasn't dead, but … sitting here?

Doubt beset Tempest. Maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was someone else who just happened to look like her.

But the scars…

"Tempest?"

Tempest realised that she had been staring too long and had drawn the attention of Starlight Glimmer, who was watching her curiously.

"Is everything okay?" Starlight asked.

"Yes," Tempest said quickly. "But … I need to step outside for a little bit."

"Why?"

"I need to take care of something," Tempest said. "Something personal I've just remembered. Don't wait for me." Not that they would, fortunately; Tempest wasn't popular enough with the other three members of the team for that. Starlight, the smartest of the three, might wonder what it was that she had only just remembered and why she had to dash off and attend to it now, but even she would forget about it soon enough.

Tempest didn't give Starlight time to answer; she just walked away, striding the opposite direction to the great mass of students flooding into the dining hall, pushing her way through the crowd with a swift, determined stride, turning and twisting to get through gaps, sometimes just bodily forcing people out of her way, never slowing or stopping.

She escaped the cafeteria into the morning sunshine that fell upon her as she stalked across the courtyard, her boots thumping like a drumbeat on the stone, passing beneath the shadow of the black stone statue, walking away, out of the courtyard and onto the grassy lawn that lay beyond.

She found a secluded spot where no one was. Everyone was either on their way to breakfast, or else they were lying in this morning; there was no one on the grass and nobody underneath the shady tree where Tempest stopped, hiding out of sight of the students crossing the courtyard on their way to the dining hall.

It was her. It was her, Tempest was certain of that: Amber, the Fall Maiden, the one whom Cinder had failed to kill.

What should, in hindsight, have been seen as a forewarning of the litany of Cinder's failures yet to come.

And yet, she should have been, if not dead, then certainly … not alive. Not walking around, not sitting at a table, not eating, not looking absurdly happy.

How had they done it? Tempest had really no idea. But they had, because that was the Fall Maiden, she was convinced of it. They had revived her somehow, despite the wounds that Cinder had inflicted on her.

And, with Cinder banished from Beacon, they thought it safe to let her wander around.

Possible with Team SAPR ranged around her like bodyguards.

And Bon Bon's teammate for some reason; Tempest would need to ask her about that to find out what was going on there. He had not been let into Ozpin's confidence, had he?

It mattered little. What mattered was Amber's … return, to all intents and purposes.

A slow smile spread across Tempest's face. Yes. Yes, she had the plan now; it was all coming together in her mind: first, Amber would die, and the two halves of the sundered Fall Maiden power would be reunited in Cinder. And then, with a little help, Cinder would die, and who should be in her thoughts, who should she see last but Tempest Shadow, who would inherit the magic from Cinder in turn and be a Fall Maiden in whom Salem could rely?

For many seasons more.

Maiden Guard (New)

Maiden Guard

Amber stopped, looking down at her hands even as she clasped them together for a moment, then started fussing with the golden band upon her wrist.

Ruby and Dove, walking on either side of her — it was a little awkward that someone had to go with Amber to be introduced to Dove’s friends, but of the four members of Team SAPR, it was only really Ruby who could claim any connection to the members of Team BLBL, even if that connection was to Dove, not to Lyra or Bon Bon; it was still better than the way that they hated Sunset — stopped.

“Amber?” Ruby asked. “Is everything okay?”

Amber didn’t answer her. She just kept on playing with her bracelet.

“Hey,” Ruby said softly, reaching out to touch Amber’s arm. “Amber?”

“Amber,” Dove said also, putting his arms around and on her shoulders. “Amber, what’s wrong?”

Amber looked at him. “These are your friends,” she said. “They supported you for a year, while you thought I was … when you didn’t know where I was. What if they don’t like me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous; they’ll love you.”

“What if they don’t?” Amber asked.

“You won’t know if you don’t meet them,” Ruby pointed out. “I guess I can understand why you’re nervous, since Dove is so close to them and they’re his teammates, but … meeting new people can be tough, but if you don’t do it, then you’ll never meet anybody. Everyone is new to you at some time or other. Yesterday … was it really only yesterday?”

Amber thought for a moment. A little giggle escaped. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think it was.”

“Huh,” Ruby said. “Long day, wasn’t it?”

“Longer for you, I think,” Amber replied.

“Longest for Sunset,” Ruby replied. “Anyway, the point is … the point is that, yesterday, we were strangers to you; you didn’t know Sunset, or Pyrrha, any of us. But now you’re good friends with both of them.” A year ago, I didn’t know Sunset or Pyrrha, and now they love me so much they fight with me all the time, and I love them even when they’re making me mad.

After all, if she didn’t care what they thought, then … well, she wouldn’t care what they thought, would she? It was only upsetting because it mattered to her, just like if they didn’t care about Ruby, then they’d let her do whatever she wanted, no matter how dangerous they thought it was.

While I…

If I didn’t care about Pyrrha at all, I wouldn’t have hit uncle Qrow.

I wouldn’t have felt bad about the way that I…

I do care. I just care about other stuff as well. More, maybe. Because there are things that are … more important.

That was the crux of it. Ruby had the impression that Pyrrha and Sunset viewed themselves as the collective Rolands to her Olivia, talking her out of throwing her life away in a pointless battle.

Ruby, on the other hand, sometimes thought that Pyrrha could play the Olivia perfectly well herself, while Sunset…

Sunset had a touch of the Percy about her. No, no, that was not quite right; Sunset wouldn’t put her own desires above the kingdom, she wouldn’t make love to the prince and put the whole kingdom at risk because she couldn’t control her own passions.

No, Sunset would come across Percy and Tristan making love and quietly shut the door and say nothing about it to anyone because they were in love, and they were her friends, and what was more important than that?

The kingdom, the kingdom was more important than that, and the alliances the king had made with his son’s hand in marriage.

But that was all just a little bit beside the point; the point was … well, the point was that Sunset and Pyrrha didn’t aggravate her out of dislike, still less from sheer indifference, but out of care, and it was because she cared in turn that Ruby was irritated by them; they would have been a lot easier to ignore otherwise.

And the fact that she hadn’t rushed to save Pyrrha’s life no matter the cost or consequence, didn’t mean that there was no care in her heart — it was simply one of many cares, and being numerous, it fell to her to sort and to consider them by magnitude of consequence.

Hopefully, Amber’s new relationships would be a lot less complicated, but the real point was that simply because they were new now was no sign that they could not grow and blossom in the time that Professor Ozpin meant to allow her.

“Now, you don’t know Lyra or Bon Bon,” Ruby went on, hoping that Amber hadn’t noticed the pause, “but who knows how close you’ll feel about them tonight?”

Amber looked down at Ruby, in a literal sense. “You … you’re right, of course. I mean, even Dove was a stranger to me, once upon a time.” She smiled. “There was a time we hadn’t even met in dreams.”

Ruby frowned. “'Met in dreams' … is that your semblance, Dove? That would explain why I’ve never seen it.”

Dove chuckled. “No, that isn’t my semblance. That’s just an expression. It’s something that I heard Amber singing when I first met her, when the sound of her voice drew me to her: I know you—”

“I walked with you once upon a dream,” Amber murmured.

“You … heard her singing?” Ruby asked.

Dove nodded. “I was hunting in the woods — for game, not for grimm; I used to set snares for rabbits and bring them home for mother to cook for supper, with herbs and a few nice potatoes. Anyway, I was in the woods, and I heard this voice, this sweet voice, the most lovely voice that I had ever heard or will ever hear.” Amber smiled to hear that and leaned into Dove, resting her back against his chest, reaching up to take his hand and arm. “I heard her singing there, and I … I knew I had to find her, the owner of that sweet voice.”

"Huh. That…"

Honestly, what impressed Ruby the most was the way that Dove was able to say all that with a straight face and not a trace of embarrassment. She wasn't sure that Jaune would have been able to do that. Also, it was pretty cute, in a sappy way. It made her smile, anyway.

"That's sweet." She looked at Amber. "Was it?"

"Honestly, it was a little startling at first," Amber confessed. "But Dove was so gentle and so charming that … yes. Yes, it became very sweet, very quickly."

"Aww," Ruby said. "It's great that you were able to find one another again." Which you wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Sunset.

That … that was something else. Ruby had called Sunset weak, unable to face up to hard decisions, to the tough choices that a huntress sometimes needed to make. And that was … well, it wasn't entirely wrong, was it? Sunset didn't like making tough choices; she played it safe, and she kicked her cans down the road if at all possible in the hope that something would turn up between now and then that would make her life easier. And she had saved Amber. She had saved Amber … because of that. Because she wasn't willing to confront the hard choice.

Ruby, confronted with the apparent necessity of Pyrrha's sacrifice, had balked at the idea of forcing Pyrrha to give up her life even for the sake of the world; she had — through Penny’s sage counsel — accepted that it had to be Pyrrha’s decision, of Pyrrha’s will, but she would not have thought … she would not have considered that it might be possible to overthrow the grim equation with which they had been confronted: Pyrrha’s life, or the loss of the Maiden’s power whole and entire.

It was Sunset, unable to accept the hard choice, unwilling to make it herself or allow it to be made by others, who had saved Amber's life, who had made it so that she and Dove could be reunited, could smile and kiss and tell the sappy story of how they met.

Ruby would have … well, it was not clear what would have happened if Pyrrha had gotten into that machine; possibly, Amber would have lived in Pyrrha’s body, having taken it over. But equally, Amber might well have died.

Instead, she had her life.

The life of a girl who had not chosen this, who had not sought out danger, a girl who was loving and beloved, a girl who was … who had been in need of salvation and now was in need of protection. Was that a life to throw away?

I guess … I guess the answer is that sometimes there is another way, and you just have to be willing to think.

Maybe that’s as important as being ready to die, is being able to think about how not to.

"Ruby?" Amber asked. "Is everything alright?"

"What?"

"You seem … a little sad," Amber said, bending down a little so that she was closer to Ruby's face. "Is everything alright? Is there anything that I can do to—?"

"Everything's fine," Ruby said quickly. "Everything is, really, it's fine; you don't need to worry about me." She took a step back, casting around for a change in subject. "So, Dove, what is your semblance, or have you not found it yet?"

"Oh, no, I know what it is," Dove replied. "It's not just not very useful in Professor Goodwitch's class, at least not in a one on one fight."

"But it is in a team fight?" asked Ruby.

"I hope so," Dove said. "My semblance … I create images of myself, not clones, or at least I don't think of them as clones; they're more like … statues of me, or images, like I said, and I create them in front of people that I care about, and each one absorbs a hit from an enemy, and then it's gone." He paused. "I haven't worked out a name for it."

"Can I see it?" Ruby asked. "In action, I mean?" She walked a little bit away from them. "Can you create one of these images in front of Amber? We all know you care about her, after all. Or does she actually need to be in danger?"

"No, I can do it," Dove said. "If you don't mind?"

"No," Amber murmured. "Not at all. It isn't dangerous, is it?"

"No."

"Then I'd like to see your semblance, too," Amber said.

Dove smiled slightly. "Well, alright then, if you both insist."

His body seemed to glow for a moment, a bright light shining out of him as if his aura had only just been activated — maybe it had; it wasn't as though it was strictly needed around the school, although personally, Ruby couldn't see any advantage to deactivating your aura ever; you might as well just go around with it always on; it wasn't like there were any disadvantages — before it faded, and he went back to normal. But, even as the light faded from Dove, a truly shining Dove, a still and silent Dove as bright as starlight, a radiant Dove who looked as though he were made of some strange combination of marble and glass, who seemed to be either or both gleaming or glowing, from an external or internal light, this vision of Dove appeared before Amber, between her and Ruby, sword not drawn but body placed between beloved Amber and any who would do her harm.

"That," Ruby murmured. "That's really pretty, apart from anything else. That's much prettier than Blake's clones."

"Perhaps a bit less useful," Dove murmured.

"I wouldn't say that; don't sell yourself short," Ruby replied. "I mean, they basically do the same thing; they take hits. Speaking of which, can't you use this on yourself?"

"As I said, it's only on people that I care about," said Dove.

"But don't you care about yourself?" Ruby asked.

"Yes, but…" Dove paused. "What would be the point? It uses aura to create these images, so what's the difference between taking a blow to my aura or spending aura to create something to take the hit?"

"Well," Ruby said, "how much of your aura does it take to create one of these?"

"I can make fourteen of them in all," Dove said. "Trying to make a fifteenth breaks my aura."

"Okay, so that's…" Ruby did the maths in her head. "Seven percent of your aura for each one? I think that's about right. Anyway, does it absorb any attack? Has any blow or anything gone through one of these and kept on coming?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Well, then let's say that an attack was coming at you that would take off ten percent of your aura," Ruby suggested, "It would make more sense to create an image with seven percent of your aura and have that take the blow instead, wouldn't it?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Dove said softly. "But I suppose that makes sense."

"And have you thought about augmenting them with dust, the way Blake does?" Ruby went on.

"No, I hadn't thought of that either."

"You should definitely try that," Ruby insisted. "I'm not sure how it would work, or if you could actually do it, but you should try it, absolutely, because if it does work, it'll be a big help."

Amber giggled, covering her mouth with one hand.

Ruby chuckled. "Sorry, I can get a little carried away."

"Don't apologise," Amber told her. "It's good that Dove has someone he can talk about this sort of thing with. I mean, after all—"

"He can't talk to you," Ruby murmured.

"I … don't really want to," Amber said. "I learned how to fight because I was made to, but … but I don't really want to … the fact that you all seem to find it so much fun, that you want to fight in a tournament even when you don't have to fight is … I don't understand it."

"I get what you mean; it is kind of pointless," Ruby said. "But it means that we get to have a festival where everyone comes together to celebrate, so that's worth it in my book. If it was me, though, I probably wouldn't bother with the tournament; it's just that it means a lot to Sunset and Pyrrha, so I'll do my part in the first round and then let them have their fun in the two-on-two rounds."

She paused a moment. "But, anyway, if you don't want to talk about this stuff, then we won't. We're supposed to be going to Team Bluebell's room anyway."

She started to turn away, then stopped. "But Dove?"

"Yes?"

"Shining Armour," Ruby said, "that's the name of your semblance."

Dove hesitated for a moment, before a smile blossomed upon his round face. "Well, if you say so, then how can I object?"

They resumed walking, and soon, they stood in front of Team BLBL's dorm room, the room that Dove now shared with Lyra and Bon Bon.

"Would you mind waiting outside for a moment, with Ruby?" Dove asked. "I'll leave the door open, I just … this is sort of … I just need to have a quick word with them first?"

"All right," Amber said, smiling. "But don't be too long, I don't want to be standing out here all day."

"I'll be quick, I promise," Dove said, kissing her on the cheek before he fished his scroll out of a pouch on his belt and used it to open up the dorm room door.

Ruby, stood behind Amber as they waited outside, couldn't see exactly what was going on in the dorm room, but she could hear everything that was going on, mostly because no one was making any effort to keep their voices down.

"Well, look who's back," Lyra said.

"Good morning, Lyra," said Dove.

"You have to wish us a good morning now because you got up and snuck out before we were awake," Bon Bon remarked.

"If you can sleep through me getting showered and dressed, may I suggest that that's as much a you problem as it is a me problem," Dove said dryly.

"No, the fact that you felt the need to slip out without saying a word is definitely a you problem," Bon Bon replied. "Where have you been?"

"You've got that smell on you again," Lyra declared. "Did you sneak out early to meet up with Pyrrha before Jaune was up?"

What smell? Pyrrha? What are they talking about? Ruby wondered. She sniffed the air. There was a smell, but it wasn't coming from Dove; it was closer, coming from—

Amber using Pyrrha's shampoo! Their hair smells the same!

Even so, to think that Pyrrha would cheat on Jaune, really?

"Nothing is going on between me and Pyrrha, and can you both be quiet for a moment?" Dove demanded. "There is … there is someone who I would like you to meet. And someone who wants to meet you, although she might not after hearing the way that you've been carrying on. Lyra, Bon Bon, meet Amber."

Amber stepped delicately into the room, her hips swaying as she put one foot directly in front of the other, her heel almost touching the toe of the foot before it. The light glimmered off her shoulder pauldron and her armoured boots. She held one hand out by her side and the other poised above her heart as she curtsied.

"Good morning," she said. "It's wonderful to meet you both."

Dove gestured to her, a beaming smile upon his face. Ruby lingered in the doorway, waiting.

Lyra and Bon Bon, sitting side by side on one of the closer beds, were silent. The whole dorm room was silent, waiting just as Ruby herself was waiting.

Waiting for them to say something.

Their eyes were wide. Lyra's mouth was open.

"Amber," she repeated. "You … your Amber?"

Dove let out a little laugh. "I'm not sure I ought to say that."

Amber reached out, and took his hand. "You can, if you want to."

Dove bowed his head for a moment. "Then yes," he said, "my Amber."

"The Amber who was supposed to meet you here at Beacon?" asked Lyra.

"The very same," Dove said. "She has … we've found each other again, at last."

"Gods," Bon Bon whispered.

"That…" Lyra trailed off for a moment, looking to Bon Bon, and then back at Amber and Dove. She began to laugh, a joyous, gasping laugh as though she were short of breath before the laughter had even begun. She clapped her hands, clad in her riding gloves, together delightedly. "That's great! That's incredible!" She leapt up off the bed, her white cape flapping up above her shoulders and flying behind her. "That is … you must be the happiest guy in Remnant right now."

"It…" Dove looked away. "It feels that way, a little bit. I … there are times when I can't believe that Amber's real, that she's standing here, that she's holding my hand; and then there's another part of me that believes and feels like singing in consequence."

"Well if that's what you want, then don't let us stop you," Lyra said. "We're Canterlot Girls, after all; we're used to musical interludes. Does this mean we're about to see a happier, less brooding you?"

"You … might?" Dove ventured. "I don't feel like brooding at the moment. I can't think what I'd have to really brood about."

"You know, I can't imagine what that might be like, but I'm dying to see it," Lyra said. She turned back to Amber. "And Amber!"

"Yes?"

"Amber!"

"Yes?"

"Amber, it is so good to finally meet you!" Lyra cried as Ruby discreetly shut the door behind her, something she possibly should have done sooner.

Lyra went on, "Dove has told us so much about you, I feel like I know you already, but also, I can't wait to really get to know you. I want us to become best friends and…" She sniffed. "Wait a second, that smell—"

"Yes," Dove said, firmly and not without some relish. "Yes, that is what you smelled on me last night and just now; it was Amber that you smelled, not Pyrrha, and I will take my apology now, if you don't mind."

Lyra sputtered indignantly. "Well, why didn't you just say something last night?!"

"And possibly more to the point," Bon Bon said, rising to her feet more slowly than Lyra had done. "How? How is Amber here? I mean it's wonderful to meet you, and Dove seems happy, but … you were supposed to meet Dove here almost a year ago when school began. Where have you been? And why is Ruby here? Hi, Ruby, not that we don't want you here, but it is a bit strange."

"Honestly, it feels a little strange being here," Ruby remarked. "Like I'm intruding."

Bon Bon didn't remind Ruby that the door was behind her if she felt that way, but she did look at it over Ruby's head.

Dove put one hand around Amber's waist and drew her in closer to him. "That question … it isn't—"

"I was attacked," Amber said, bowing her head. "On my way … here. I was attacked, and I … I've been asleep for the past year, that's why Dove couldn't find me."

"'Asleep'?" Bon Bon repeated.

"In a coma," Ruby clarified.

"Oh," Lyra said. "Oh, honey, that … that must be where—" She started to reach out for Amber's face, and the scars that Cinder had left her there, but then she thought better of it and pulled her arm back. "Oh, honey," she repeated. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what … you must be so … I'm sorry. But … at least you're awake now, right?"

Amber smiled at her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, at least I'm awake now. I'm awake, and I'm here, and…"

"But … we checked the hospitals," Bon Bon pointed out. "We went to King's Hospital, Limehouse for serious grimm injuries, the district hospitals, we went everywhere, and we couldn't find any record of Amber as a past or present patient."

"Amber … wasn't in hospital," Dove admitted. "Ozpin was keeping her under personal observation."

Bon Bon frowned. "'Personal observation'?"

"Bon Bon," Lyra said, "we don't need to talk about this right now—"

"Amber … Amber…" Ruby began, stammering a little. She kind of wished that Sunset was here instead of her right now; Sunset was better at lying than she was. "Amber is…" How close to the truth can I get without telling them anything? She began to speak slowly, leaving extra-long pauses between words to give herself more time to think. "Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece, and he was worried that that was why she'd been attacked and that whoever attacked her would try again, which is why I'm here to protect her."

Bon Bon looked at her. "Professor Ozpin's niece? You're Professor Ozpin's niece?"

Amber nodded mutely.

"You didn't tell us that Amber was Professor Ozpin's niece!" Bon Bon reminded Dove.

"I didn't know," Dove said.

"How could you not know?"

"Bon Bon—" Lyra said.

"And you said you went to Professor Ozpin, and he—"

"He lied to me," Dove said, "because he didn't trust me, so he didn't want me to know the truth about Amber."

There was a moment of silence in the dorm room that was broken by Lyra saying, "What an ass."

Amber covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. "Yes," she said, her shoulders shaking, "yes, Lyra, he is."

Bon Bon began, "But—"

"Bon Bon, enough with the questions," Lyra said. "Amber just got here, she's been through a lot, she doesn't have to … let's just be happy for Dove, okay? This … this is the best thing that has happened to this team all year. So let's just be happy, yeah? Why not?"

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. "Why … why not, indeed." She smiled. "Congratulations, Dove, this … this is a miracle. Lyra's right, it really is the best, it … I'm sorry, Amber, I shouldn't have…" She shook her head. "We never actually introduced ourselves, did we? This is Lyra Heartstrings, and I am Bonnie Bonaventure, but you can call me Bon Bon. Please call me Bon Bon; it's so much easier." She held out her hand. "It's nice, no, it's wonderful, to meet you at last."

Amber took a step away from Dove and reached out to put her hands on Lyra and on Bon Bon's shoulders. "I … I wasn't here when I was supposed to be," she said, "and that wasn't my fault, but all the same, I wasn't here, and Dove didn't know where I was, and … and I've heard that you two were there for him more than anyone else. I've heard that the two of you have helped him so much this year, and for that, I will always be so very grateful. Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything."

Lyra grinned. "Well, you know, what are friends for? Besides, Dove's helped us out a lot as well."

"He's been there for us too, definitely," Bon Bon added. "We've been through some tough times of our own, and Dove…" She looked away, wiping at her eyes with one. "You're a lucky girl, you know that?"

Amber nodded. "Yes. Yes, I know that very well."

"Come here, Dove!" Lyra cried, throwing out her arm. "Bring it in!"

Dove approached, and Lyra grabbed him, pulling him and Amber and Bon Bon into a wrenching hug, Lyra's arms enfolding them as much as she was able, the arms of Dove and Bon Bon intertwining with her own, all of them embracing Amber.

Ruby smiled as she watched. If any team deserved some good luck after what they'd been through, it was Team Bluebell. Sure, Bon Bon had made some mistakes around Blake, but losing Sky, and … they deserved a break, and it looked like they were happy enough for Dove that it almost seemed as if they'd gotten one at last.

"This," Lyra said, "is going to be the start of something wonderful, I can feel it."

She took a step back, out of the group hug. "We should celebrate!" she cried. "We should … we could go into Vale, or—"

"I'm, I mean we're already going into Vale," Amber murmured. "With Pyrrha and Sunset and Ruby and Jaune. It's for Pyrrha's birthday."

"Oh," Lyra said, sounding a little down to hear it. "Well, that's okay, we'll come with you!"

"We will?" asked Bon Bon.

"Sure we will," Lyra said. "Why not?"

"Because it's for Pyrrha's birthday, and we aren't Pyrrha's friends?"

"Neither is Dove," Lyra pointed out. "It's not like we're crashing dinner for two or anything; it'll be fine." She looked at Ruby. "Won't it, Ruby?"

Ruby stared for a moment, a rictus smile spreading across her face. "Uh … of course!" she declared. "The more the merrier!"

“'The more the merrier'?” Sunset repeated. “Really?”

Ruby was back in the SAPR dorm room; Amber was in the bathroom, freshening up with the help of Ciel; all four members of Team SAPR were in the main room, waiting for her to be done.

Ruby shrugged. “I … what was I supposed to say?”

“You could have said no,” Sunset suggested.

“And why would Ruby have done that?” Pyrrha asked. “This … this is a good thing.”

“It is?” Sunset asked sceptically.

“Yes,” Pyrrha insisted. “Nobody really believes that this is about my birthday—”

“It is a bit,” Jaune said.

“This is about Amber,” Pyrrha went on, ignoring Jaune for once. “This is about her happiness, her … having a nice time. If that means spending time with Dove’s friends as well as with us, then so be it. It’s probably good that she get to know them. After all, they are Dove’s friends.”

Sunset sighed. “I … I suppose so,” she muttered. “I just … yeah, okay, let’s take them with us. It’ll reduce the number of things that we can talk about even more—”

“I don’t think Amber would really want to talk about Maidens in any event,” Pyrrha said. “Do any of us want to talk about Maidens?”

“Not really,” Ruby said.

“No,” Jaune added.

“Fine, fine, you make excellent points,” Sunset conceded, settling down onto the camp bed where she was sleeping for the moment. She looked up at Pyrrha. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“That’s not for me to decide,” Pyrrha responded.

“It’s a little for you to decide,” Jaune said, “At least. You should have told us. You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jaune smiled. “You should have told me for you; it’s your birthday, you’re the one who missed out.

“On what?” Pyrrha asked him. “It was hardly the right time for … anything, was it? And besides, I really don’t want a fuss; I had enough fuss made of me for the first—”

“Except you didn’t,” Jaune said, “did you?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“Those balls in the ballroom, those parties that your mom threw,” Jaune said. “They weren’t for you, were they?”

Pyrrha glanced down for a moment. “They were in my honour.”

“But not for you,” Jaune repeated, holding out one hand to her from where he sat on his bed.

A soft, close-mouthed smile played across Pyrrha’s face as she took a step closer towards him, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. “Today isn’t for me either,” she said softly. “And whether or not you are right—”

“Which I am,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha chuckled. “You think you know so much, don’t you?”

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Jaune said. “I think you’ve told me enough. And if I’m wrong, then tell me so.”

Pyrrha said nothing, except to say, “This is Amber’s day. I want her to enjoy herself.”

Ruby smiled. “You like her, don’t you?”

“She is somewhat after my own heart,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I should hope to have some empathy for anyone in her position, be she ever so much or so little like myself, someone who has suffered, who has lost time, and who now finds herself in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar people.” She frowned. “I do hope that she’s alright.”

“She’ll be okay,” Sunset assured her.

“Can you be certain of that?” asked Pyrrha.

“Everything that you just said can be managed,” Sunset declared. “Well, certainly, finding yourself in a strange place surrounded by strangers … you can adjust to that. You learn the sort of place you’re in, the people that surround you, eventually, you start to feel at home. Even the worst can manage that, and Amber … Amber is far from the worst. And she has Dove.”

“And us,” Ruby added.

“Yeah,” Sunset agreed, nodding. “And us, for now.”

“For now,” Ruby repeated. “Where do you think they’ll go? Amber and Dove? Where do you think that Professor Ozpin will send them?”

“Are we certain that Ozpin will keep his word and allow Dove to go with her?” asked Pyrrha.

“Yes,” Sunset said firmly. “Yes, I am very sure. I would stake my … I would stake anything on it. He will not separate them. I … I wish that you would not—”

“I know that you trust him,” Pyrrha murmured. “But I … it comes harder to me now.”

“You were prepared to do as he asked,” Sunset reminded her, “to throw your life away at his asking—”

“Because of need,” Pyrrha said, “because there was so much at stake and such dire consequences, either for the world or for whoever else he turned to if I refused, but … Ozpin has the right to ask me to give up my soul for the sake of the world; he does not have the right to expect me to look on him with fondness afterwards, especially … with what we have learned of Amber, it becomes harder, not easier, to regard him with the trust and esteem in which I once held him. I regret that he no longer seems the man I thought he was.”

“I’m a little surprised that you trust him, Sunset, to be honest,” Jaune added.

Sunset rested her elbows upon her knees, clasping her gloved hands together. “I … I know that even the most beloved mentor can make mistakes, mistakes that can turn you against them, for a time. But I also know that, if you bear malice for those mistakes, if you attribute malice to what was well-meaning effort, if you turn your back on those who have your best interests at heart, then … you hurt yourself as much or more than you hurt them.”

“No offence, Sunset, but Ozpin isn’t your princess back home,” Jaune said, swinging his legs off the bed so that he could sit up instead of lying on the mattress. “Princess … Celia?”

“Celestia.”

“Right, Princess Celestia never asked you to get into a machine that would suck out another person’s magic and combine it with yours, did she?”

Sunset shuddered a little. “No,” she muttered. “No, she didn’t.”

“Then it’s not the same,” Jaune said. “What Ozpin was going to do to Pyrrha was … how are we supposed to trust him with our lives when he was willing to throw Pyrrha’s life away?”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “I … I do not take that lightly,” she said. “I do not esteem Pyrrha’s life little, that … does that need to be said?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, of course not. You … without you, I would not be here, any more than Amber would be.”

Sunset looked into Pyrrha’s eyes, and it seemed to Pyrrha almost that there was a surfeit of gratitude there, as though Sunset had feared — a sudden fear, perhaps, but no less fearful for it — that Pyrrha might doubt it, might think that her sympathy for Ozpin meant some callousness towards Pyrrha and her fate.

Pyrrha knew better than that. She would always know better than that. Sunset … would always have her back. Her sympathy for Ozpin would not change that.

“I am glad to hear it,” Sunset murmured. Her body sagged forwards a little. “And yet … what he asked of you, he did not ask lightly.”

“And yet he asked it nevertheless,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Yes,” Sunset whispered. “Yes, he did. And so I will not try to persuade you to see him by a different light, but for myself … Princess Celestia trusts him. And I … I think … I think he is in a difficult position, and I think that Amber would benefit from … reconciling with him.”

“She doesn’t seem to think so,” Ruby remarked.

Sunset looked at her. “And what do you think, Ruby? About Professor Ozpin?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I … I don’t think that he took it lightly, what he asked of Pyrrha. If he did, then he wouldn’t have cared when Sunset had another idea, but he did. I think that he really couldn’t see another way; I think that he was doing what he thought was right, for the greater of Vale, of Remnant. He’s … Rainbow Dash told me once that they have to trust General Ironwood because he can see the whole board, and they can’t. I’m not sure that’s right, I think that abdicates responsibility, but I think Professor Ozpin is trying to look at the whole board and make the best calls he can. That’s not to say that he gets them right all the time, but he has good intentions.”

“I would say that sounds fair enough,” Sunset replied. “You know I think that hiding the Maidens is a bad thing—”

“Although on that point…” Pyrrha murmured, “does not the fate of Amber suggest that there are good reasons why it is so?”

“Is not Amber better protected by us than she was by secrecy?” Sunset replied.

“Amber … Amber’s very nice and sweet,” Ruby said, “but I’m not sure that she could ever really inspire anyone. I just … she doesn’t seem the type, if you get what I mean?”

“Well, hmm, you … might have a point there,” Sunset murmured. “But, as to your original question … I have no doubt that Dove will go with Amber wherever she goes, but where that will be … I can’t say.”

“There must be somewhere she can hide,” Jaune said. “Vale’s a big country.”

“But now that Salem knows what she looks like, she’ll have to stay pretty isolated,” Ruby replied. “So it will be good that Dove’s with her; he can buy the groceries and stuff and bring them back to wherever they’re staying; Amber doesn’t have to leave the house.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a life,” Jaune said.

No, indeed. A circumscribed life, a little life, a half life. A life bound within a walnut shell. A life trapped by your own gift, by that which ought to have been a great blessing upon you.

No wonder Sunset thinks it such a crime to hide the Maidens away; that this is the life they are condemned to is indeed a terrible thing, although in Amber’s case, I am not sure what help there is for it.

“You’re right, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Wherever she goes, Amber will be … trapped, set apart from the world by her gifts, by that which ought to make her celebrated. I fear that there is nothing we can do about that.”

“What about taking her to Mistral, as you promised?” Sunset asked.

“A promise I will keep,” Pyrrha declared. “I will take her to Mistral, with all of you if you will come, and then show her the delights of my home, but … but I cannot keep her in my house forever and keep her out of Ozpin’s reach at the same time as protecting her from Cinder and any others Salem might send. At some point … at some point, she will have to hide, and when she does … when she does, I fear her world will become a small thing indeed, with only Dove to brighten it. And so I think it is incumbent on us to make these days here the most pleasant for Amber that we can, to bring joy and sunshine into her life, while we may.”

Sunset smiled, and so did Ruby, and when Pyrrha looked at Jaune, she found that he was smiling too.

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “Yeah, that’s something we can do, while we have the chance.”

There was a knock on the door.

Sunset got up off the camp bed, her hand glowing green as she telekinetically turned the door handle and opened the door.

Rainbow Dash stood on the other side of the door, her wings strapped across her chest, her guns in the holsters at their hips.

“Hey, guys,” she said, glancing around the room. “Not done yet then.”

“Not yet, no,” Sunset replied.

“I thought not,” Rainbow said. “Rarity wouldn’t be ready yet.” She stepped inside the door room. “How did Lyra and Bon Bon take it?”

“Well,” Ruby replied. “Very well, they … they looked at Amber like she was a miracle.”

“And if ever a team deserved a miracle,” Pyrrha murmured.

Rainbow glanced at her but didn’t say anything. She returned her attention to Sunset. “Are you sure that this is a good idea? Taking Amber into Vale?”

“You don’t think Cinder’s going to be hiding behind a post box in the city, do you?” Sunset asked.

“She’s more likely to be there than she is to be here at Beacon,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Of course she is, but that would mean keeping Amber trapped here at school,” Sunset said. “As Ruby pointed out, she’d miss all the fun bits of the Vytal Festival — especially since she’s not interested in the combat tournament. And even if you ignore the Vytal Festival, then … it’s no life having to huddle up here, is it? As your General Ironwood seemed to point out to Professor Ozpin when we discussed it with them all this morning.”

“Really?” Rainbow asked. “He did?”

“It seemed that way,” Sunset said. “He intervened at just the right moment.”

Rainbow blinked. “Huh. I guess he took what we said when talking about Penny to heart. Good for him. And good for Amber too, I suppose, if the General says it okay—”

“And so does Professor Ozpin; it’s all been cleared,” said Sunset. “Something else you should know: Lyra and Bon-Bon are coming with us too.”

Rainbow grinned. “Lyra invited herself, didn’t she?”

“How did you know?” Ruby asked.

“Because I know her,” Rainbow said. “Good luck, but it doesn’t really change much from our perspective: Penny is going to be with you, Ciel and Blake will be keeping you covered from high vantage points, and I’ll be up in the air with The Bus; if things get hairy, I’ll give you a rapid extraction.”

“Wouldn’t Blake be better off down on the street with the rest of us?” asked Ruby.

“Ciel needs a spotter,” Rainbow said. “I don’t want her to be on her own. And besides, there’s going to be the four of you and Penny and Team Bluebell; you should be able to manage without Blake until I can pick you up.”

“I wasn’t saying that we needed her,” Ruby protested. “Just talking about where she could do the most good.”

“I’m sure Blake will swing into action if we need her,” Sunset said. “Literally. Is Twilight going to be in the airship with you?”

“No, Twilight is going to be observing everything with drones from the safety of the dorm room,” Rainbow corrected. “Midnight is going to be my co-pilot.”

“A computer program?”

“A smart computer program,” Rainbow corrected. “Trust me, it’s the right call. Twilight can help while staying out of harm’s way, and anyway, I’ll still be in the cockpit.”

“And this is all just a precautionary measure,” Sunset added. “We aren’t actually expecting any trouble.”

“Not for you guys, you’re not Atlesians,” Rainbow said. “So whatever’s going on in Vale isn’t going to bother you, hopefully.” She paused for a moment. “What’s she like?”

“Gentle and kind,” Pyrrha said. “As you saw at breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah, I suppose I did,” Rainbow said quietly. “Going through what she did, and she can still smile.”

“She’s got something to smile about,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Yeah, I guess she has. And you’re going to protect that smile, right?”

“We are,” Sunset confirmed. “We all are.”

Rainbow nodded. “When Ciel is done in there with Amber, tell her to meet me and Blake at The Bus; I’ll drop them off and then take up a holding pattern until you’re back at Beacon — or unless you need me, which you hopefully won’t.”

“But if we do, we’ll shout for you,” Sunset replied.

“Right,” Rainbow said. She held out one hand. “Good luck out there.”

Sunset took her hand, clasping it tight. “As you say, hopefully we won’t need it.”

Rainbow nodded again, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Do you think that’s necessary?” asked Ruby. “Getting the Atlesians involved?”

“I would rather waste the time of Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight,” Sunset said, “than get Amber hurt. It probably will be a waste of their time, but … if not—”

“Then we will be glad of Rainbow’s airship, no doubt,” Pyrrha said. “Shall we tell Amber about this?”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sunset replied. “We don’t want to scare her, after all.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, of course we don’t.”

The bathroom door opened, and Amber emerged hesitantly, her steps slow and a little cautious, fussing with the bracelet on her wrist.

“How … how do I look?” she asked.

“You look lovely,” Pyrrha said, because Ciel had done a splendid job when given the time to do it with no interruptions: she had practically covered Amber’s scars to the point where they could scarcely be seen, and even then when you knew to look for them, Pyrrha doubted that casual observers would notice them at all. Not only that, but Ciel had given her a circle of green eyeshadow, more prominent above her eye but by no means invisible beneath it, which made her eyes glow like a goddess, the light, amber brown of her eyes rendered especially luminous by the green that surrounded it. Amber’s eyelashes looked a little longer than Pyrrha remembered, which made her wonder if Ciel had put any extensions in, and her skin had a glossy shine to it, most prominently upon her cheeks, which had a slight touch of pink about them besides, but by no means absent elsewhere upon her face, which suited her very well. She gleamed in the light that fell upon her; how much more so would she gleam in sunlight once they got her into Vale?

“You really do look beautiful,” Pyrrha added.

“It’s pretty,” Ruby said.

“You look great,” said Jaune.

“Good job, Ciel,” Sunset said.

“Yes, yes, she did do wonderfully, didn’t she?” Amber asked. “I mean, if you’re sure that it’s all right.”

“It is,” Pyrrha said. “Dove will be delighted, I’m sure.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Amber replied. “Thank you, Ciel, I … thank you.”

“It is nice to know that if my career in the military were to end prematurely, I would have a future career as a beautician,” Ciel said, dryly but not without a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Is she upset about something?

Not upset enough to stop her from coming here to do us this service, clearly.

I’m afraid that if she is upset, we must leave it to Rainbow Dash to address, rather than addressing it ourselves.

“In all sincerity,” Ciel went on, some more warmth entering her voice, “I am most glad that you approve of the outcome. It was a pleasure to assist you in this.”

“You’re very kind to say so, but I don’t see how it can really have been a pleasure,” Amber replied. “Coming here to help someone else with their makeup.”

“It was no trouble,” Ciel assured her. “It was … a very pleasant distraction.”

“I’ll try and remember the things you said you were doing,” Amber said. “I don’t want to have to keep dragging you down here.”

“No!” Ciel said, with a little more force that was strictly necessary. “I mean, um … you must do whatever you think is best for you of course, but … I will always be ready to assist you, if you have need of it.” She looked away from Amber, clutching her makeup bag closer to her, looking very diffident and uncertain. “I … I should go. If you will excuse me, Amber, everyone.”

She squeezed past Amber and then hurried out, moving at a rapid double-quick pace, not looking at anyone on her way out. She didn’t even shut the door properly on her way out; it was left ajar, and Sunset had to shut it.

Before she did, they could hear her rapid footsteps moving away.

“Did I say something wrong?” Amber asked.

“No,” Pyrrha assured her. “No, Amber, that … whatever that was was not about you.”

“Oh, I see,” Amber murmured. “Except I don’t. I’m glad that I didn’t upset her, but I wonder what was wrong with her.”

“Perhaps you can ask her when you see her next,” Sunset suggested.

“Perhaps,” Amber said softly. “I hope she’s alright; she was very nice to me to help me like this. Everyone’s been so nice to me. It’s … is all the world so full of kindness?”

“Not all full,” Pyrrha said, “but there is more kindness in the world than there are murderers and thieves.”

“But in these walls, even in this very room, you have met some of the kindest hearts that you will ever meet in Remnant,” Sunset added.

Amber smiled. “I know it to be true. Brave new world.” To Pyrrha, she said, “Are you … are you going out dressed like that?”

Pyrrha was wearing her huntress attire. “Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Why?”

“I thought you might want to dress up, since it’s your belated birthday,” Amber replied. “Not that what you're wearing isn’t pretty, but…”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I understand,” she assured Amber, “and under different circumstances, I might wear a dress or something else, but I must be armed and well-prepared, we all must, in case…”

Amber swallowed. “In case … in case she is there? In case she comes for me?” She took a step back, and her whole body began to tremble.

“It’s not likely,” Sunset assured her. “In fact, it is incredibly unlikely. But as Pyrrha says, we have to be prepared; after all, Professor Ozpin has charged us with your safekeeping: the protection of that which is most precious to him in all of Remnant.”

Pyrrha had some doubts that that could be true; surely, if Amber was the most precious thing to Ozpin in all the world, he would not have wanted to treat her soul thus, but her focus was more on Amber than on Sunset’s laying it on a little thick.

Amber nodded, but by the way that she was breathing, the way that she reached out for the frame of the bathroom door as though she feared she might fall, it seemed that she was not entirely convinced by it.

Pyrrha and Sunset both moved towards her.

You were right not to tell her about the Atlesians, Sunset.

“It will be alright, Amber,” Pyrrha whispered.

“We swear to protect you,” Sunset said. “I didn’t wake you up just to let harm come to you now.”

Amber’s gaze flickered between them. “It … it will be safe?”

“It will be safe,” Pyrrha said. “Safe with us, Sunset and I, Ruby and Jaune, and Dove besides, and Lyra and Bon Bon too. We will keep you safe.”

“We are your Maiden Guard, on this day and in the days to come,” Sunset said. “You may depend on us.”

“I … I trust you both,” Amber said. “I trust all of you, but … especially you.” She reached for them, and both Pyrrha and Sunset took her hands in theirs.

Amber closed her eyes. “You must think I’m very foolish.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha assured her. “After what you’ve been through, it is natural to be afraid. But you are not alone, nor unprotected.”

Amber nodded. “No,” she whispered. “No, I’m not. I’m with you.”

There was another knock at the dorm room.

“That will be Dove, most likely,” Sunset said. “Are you ready to see him? Are you ready to go?”

Amber hesitated for a moment, before she let go of the hands of Pyrrha and Sunset and straightened herself, petting her hair with both hands.

She took a deep breath. “Do I still look alright?”

“Better than alright,” said Pyrrha. “Like a vision.”

This time it was Ruby who opened the door, to reveal Dove, dressed in his school uniform but with his sword at his hip, his shoes, by the look of them, freshly polished, and a blue half cape stretched somewhat awkwardly across his shoulders.

“Dove!” Amber cried. “You look very dashing.”

“And you have grown no less beautiful since I saw you last,” Dove said, striding into the room and cupping Amber’s chin with his fingers as he gave her a gentle kiss upon the lips. “Are we ready to go?”

Amber glanced at Pyrrha. Pyrrha gave a shrug, meaning to suggest that it was Amber’s decision.

“Yes,” Amber said. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Thanks for agreeing to help us out with this,” Rainbow said, as she strapped herself into the pilot’s seat of her airship.

“You’re welcome, Rainbow Dash,” Midnight said, her voice emerging out of somewhere from the mouthless android body that she was piloting.

“Well, thank you as well, Midnight,” Rainbow muttered, “but I was actually talking to Blake.”

“I see,” sniffed Midnight. “It’s nice to know that my hard work is appreciated.”

“Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do,” Rainbow declared.

“Don’t I?”

“No!” Rainbow said firmly. She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing. “Do you?”

“I will have you know that I could be busy solving the mysteries of the universe right now,” Midnight declared. “Instead, I’m here, preparing to help babysit some girl.”

“Okay, in the first place, Amber is not just some girl; she’s the Fall Maiden, that makes her important,” Rainbow said. “And in the second place…” It occurred to her that this had kind of been the problem with Penny. It wasn’t exactly the same thing — Midnight wasn’t really alive; she was making a good job of acting like she was — but it was kind of the same thing, or close enough to make Rainbow pause. If General Ironwood could learn better, then so could she. She had to, if any good was to come from all this. “You know what, I’m sorry. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. Go … solve the mysteries of the universe, whatever that means.”

Midnight was silent for a moment. The android body leaned back in the chair. “I don’t think I will,” she said.

Rainbow blinked. “You won’t?”

“I’d rather hang out with you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Then … then why—”

“I don’t want to be taken for granted, that’s all,” Midnight said airily.

Rainbow stared at her. “You are the weirdest computer I have ever met,” she said.

Midnight folded her android arms across her chest. “Why thank you, Rainbow Dash; you always say the nicest things.”

Rainbow continued staring at her. “You … you know what, fine, you have a right to make fun of me. Midnight?”

“Yes, Dash?”

“Can you put a face on that or something?” Rainbow asked, pointing with one finger towards the android faceplate, which was blank impenetrable black. “It’s a little weird talking to … that. It’s even weirder having it talk back.”

“There isn’t the functionality to project a face onto the face plate,” Midnight replied. “Which suggests it has been somewhat unfortunately named. However—” She unfolded her arms, holding up the palm of her right hand, the palm onto which Rainbow could see now had been added a little holoprojector, a projector which glowed blue as a miniature hologram of Midnight appeared above it. She shook her long hair free. “Whew, good to be out of that suit. How’s this? Better?”

Rainbow nodded. “Much better, yeah, thanks. You look like someone I can hold an actual conversation with.”

“You mean that I’ll be harder to ignore?”

“Much harder,” Rainbow answered. “But right now, Blake really does deserve some thanks too for coming out here and giving up her time.”

Rainbow looked over her shoulder, half turning in her seat to look behind her into the main body of the airship. The doors were open, letting the sunlight in from beyond to shine on Blake, making her white tunic seem brighter beneath her black waistcoat.

Blake was smiling with amusement, presumably at Midnight, and her voice was light as she said, “It’s not a problem. In fact I daresay it’s the least I signed up for when you told me about everything and I agreed to work for the General and Professor Ozpin.”

“'The General'?” Midnight repeated.

“Midnight?” Blake asked.

“You called General Ironwood ‘the General,’” Midnight pointed out.

Blake was silent for a second. Then a little kind of amused huff came out of her mouth. “I guess I did. Is that bad?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “Just one more sign you’re becoming one of us.”

“Like the victim of a zombie bite,” Midnight said.

“Hey!” Rainbow snapped. “Whose side are you on?”

“Never fear, Rainbow Dash; that was just a joke,” Midnight assured her.

“It better be,” Rainbow muttered.

“Anyway,” Blake said, raising her voice just a little bit, “the progress of my assimilation aside, since I’m involved in this, it wouldn’t exactly be right to beg off when everyone else is doing their part—”

“If by ‘doing their part,’ you mean enjoying a nice day out with all their friends,” Midnight pointed out.

Blake ignored her. “And besides, it’s not as though I had anything better to do today.”

“You didn’t fancy watching Sun qualify for the Vytal Festival, then?”

Blake frowned slightly. “To be honest … I’m a little worried that he won’t. Team Sun feels … a little divided.”

“I wish I could say I was surprised,” Rainbow said, “but I’m not. But I also think you should have more faith.”

“Good teamwork can overcome individual skill,” Blake pointed out, “and individual skills can be undermined by poor teamwork.”

“Yeah, but there are eight spots, and even with their problems, I can’t think of eight teams better than Team Sun,” Rainbow replied. “Haven doesn’t have that many stars.” She paused for a moment. “It’s Ditzy that I feel sorry for.”

“'Ditzy'?” Blake said. “Is she the one who fought Pyrrha?”

“That’s right, Ditzy Doo,” Rainbow said. “Another Canterlot alumnus. She and her team went on a mission; apparently, her team leader went crazy, killed her other two teammates, and ran off. Ditzy’s the last one standing.”

“Gods,” Blake murmured. “Is she okay?”

“Ditzy always seems like she’s okay,” Rainbow said. “But … I don’t see how anyone could be okay after that; I mean … you don’t have to love your teammates to feel something when two of them aren’t there any more, and it’s the fault of your own team leader. I feel like I should … I want to do something for her; I just don’t know what. We went to the same combat school, but I don’t actually know her very well.”

“Maybe just getting to know her would be a good place to start?” suggested Blake. “She could probably use a friend, especially if she’s in a … if she left her own kingdom to go to Haven Academy, she might not know a lot of the other Haven students. I’m sure she’ll appreciate any support she can get.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow murmured. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She fell silent for a moment, looking away from Blake, and away from Midnight too, looking out of the cockpit window, out across the skies and the towers of Vale and the Atlesian warships gliding by or holding position like huge airborne fortresses.

“You know, they’re really lucky,” she said. “They’re so lucky I’m kind of jealous.”

“Of Ditzy?” Midnight asked.

“Of Amber,” Blake said, walking into the cockpit. “And Dove.”

“And Blake gets it,” Rainbow said, the words coming out like a sigh. “They get … I know that she wasn’t actually dead, but she was in a coma for a year, and she might as well have been dead as far as he was concerned; she was dying, for sure, but now … now, she’s back. Now, they get a second chance. Lyra and Bon won’t get that. Ditzy won’t get that.” I won’t get that, and neither will Aska, or the General. “I hope they appreciate how lucky they are.”

“They certainly seemed to,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Yeah, they did, didn’t they?”

“You didn’t answer Rainbow’s question,” Midnight pointed out.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t answer if you wanted to go and watch Sun qualify,” Midnight said. “Or fail to qualify, as you fear.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a closed door event,” Blake said. “No spectators.”

“Would you watch if you could?” Rainbow asked. “If you didn’t have to be here?”

“I might,” Blake murmured. She smiled. “Or I might like to be pleasantly surprised. To be honest … whatever the result, I doubt he’ll be able to keep it a secret from me. So, if we celebrate tonight, you’ll have a hint as to who's in the Vytal Tournament.”

“Are you going to celebrate with him if he gets in?”

“I think I owe him that,” Blake said. “Don’t you?”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Rainbow replied. “What do you want?”

“I want to have some fun with a nice guy,” Blake said. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing; it’s a fine thing,” Rainbow said. “It just had to be what you wanted, that’s all.”

“And what he wanted,” Blake murmured. “I hope that he’s doing what he wants, and not what he thinks I want.”

“I don’t think that it’s just about you,” Rainbow replied. “I think this SDC stuff, it … it lit a fire under him. Got him thinking.”

“It wasn’t only that which got him thinking,” Blake pointed out.

Rainbow grinned. “I just … gave him a bit of a pointer in the right direction. I knew that you couldn’t stop moving, and that you were just going to walk further and further away from him if he stood still. So I told him to make a move. I didn’t tell him where to go; he came up with that all on his own.”

“We’re not moving to the same place,” Blake said softly.

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “But you’re both moving, and your paths are close enough that you can reach out to one another.”

Blake smiled. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, we can.” She put a hand on Rainbow’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“All part of the service,” Rainbow said.

Ciel leapt into the airship, Distant Thunder — collapsed down to a manageable length — slung over her shoulder. “I hope I have not kept you waiting.”

“Nope, the Skybus only just left,” Rainbow said, pushing the button to close the doors. As they slid shut, she asked. “How’s Amber?”

“She is in good spirits,” Ciel replied.

“Yeah?”

“Indeed,” Ciel said.

“That’s … you gotta admire that,” Rainbow said. “Still being able to smile after what she’s been through.”

“It helps that she has Dove,” Blake said. “But she seems to be getting on well with Team Sapphire as well.”

“It does not surprise me,” Ciel said, from behind them. “She is … very likeable.”

“Is that why you don’t mind going over there to do her makeup?” Rainbow asked.

“Someone must,” Ciel said. “Someone close to her complexion, which requires a different approach than Pyrrha knows. Unless you have some beauty secrets you have given no sign of.”

“Yeah, no,” Rainbow said. “On the rare occasions when that kind of thing is necessary, Rarity takes care of it.”

“Would she rather you learned how to do it yourself?” asked Blake.

“I don’t think so, the amount she seems to enjoy doing it to me, I mean for me,” Rainbow replied, quickly correcting herself.

“That does not surprise me,” Ciel said softly. “If one is so inclined, it can be … quite pleasant. To help Amber thus and to have her appreciate my assistance, it is … perhaps it is selfish to admit that I hope she does not learn how to pretty herself just yet.”

Rainbow had a feeling that she knew what this was really about. She unbuckled her seat — they had time; Team SAPR and Amber and the rest wouldn’t be landing in Vale for a little bit — and got up. Blake made way for her, and Rainbow squeezed past her before walking to the hatchway separating the cockpit from the fuselage.

Ciel sat on one of the seats near the cockpit, her hands clasped together in her lap, her head down.

“I’d ask if you were okay,” Rainbow said, “but I can guess the answer.”

Ciel hesitated. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

“I don’t believe you,” Rainbow said flatly.

Ciel glanced up at her but didn’t say anything. She looked away again. “We should go,” she said, quietly and stiffly.

Rainbow’s response to that was to go and sit down beside her on the bench between the cockpit and the door, their shoulders almost touching.

Rainbow didn’t look at Ciel; she kept her eyes ahead of her, at the grey metal door on the other side of the airship.

Without looking, she reached out and took Ciel’s hand.

“You’ve done the right thing,” she said. “You don’t also need to be okay with it, at least not with me. Because I’m your team leader, and while I haven’t been the best team leader, I am still your team leader, and that means that you don’t have to be good or strong or virtuous or stoic or anything else. You want to let it out, here’s the place.”

Now, Rainbow looked at Ciel. Ciel was still for a second, and silent too. She raised her head. And then her whole body shuddered, and she made a sort of choking sound.

She did not cry, but she sounded a little choked up, her voice getting kind of hoarse.

“Neon thinks that Penny is ungrateful,” she said. “She calls her a word that I shall not repeat, and I … I know that it is not so, but … but I feel it too. In my heart. Lady forgive me, I feel it too. And so, to have the opportunity to help Amber, to have someone who appreciates my help … it brings me joy for itself, and for the joy that it brings to Amber, but it also brings me sadness, for what I wanted but was denied. I … I am foolish.”

“No,” Rainbow said. “No, you’re not; you’re just … human after all. Making mistakes. Feeling things that aren’t always what people looking at us from the outside might call ‘good.’ But it doesn’t make you a bad person. Penny … you tried harder for Penny, did more for her, than me or Twilight; of the three of us, you are the one who least deserves the blame, and if anyone deserves any credit out of this, it’s you — which my final report will reflect, if that matters to you at all — and I’m sorry that Penny can’t see that yet. Hopefully, she will, one day.” She paused. “But until then … or whatever happens … it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry.”

“What good will that do?”

“You won’t explode from trying to hold it in,” Rainbow told her. “The fact that Penny can’t see how you loved her doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

Ciel closed her eyes. “That … may be as you say,” she murmured. “And I thank you for it, truly, but … but for now, we have a job to do, do we not?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, we do.”

“Then we should go to it, should we not?” asked Ciel.

Rainbow looked into Ciel’s eyes. “Are you good?”

“Duty will be a balm to all my heartache,” Ciel said. “And I would not see Amber come to harm because I was moping like some … someone who wallows in heartache. Let us go. We have a Maiden to guard.”

Rainbow nodded and started to get up, but as she rose, she put a hand on Ciel’s knee. “If you ever want to talk about it, you know where I sleep,” she said. Then, only then, she returned to the cockpit and strapped herself back in.

“Control, this is Atlas Echo Three-Oh-Three requesting permission to take off, disembark passengers in Vale and then assume holding pattern delta-nine as specified in my flight plan request.”

“Copy that, Echo Three-Oh-Three, permission granted.”

“Roger that, Control,” Rainbow said, as she guided her airship up off the docking pad and into the air, following the Skybus with Amber and the rest aboard on the way to Vale.

Tempest Shadow watched the Skybus head out in the direction of Vale, carrying with it the Fall Maiden, Amber, along with Team SAPR, Penny Polendina … and Sweetie Drops.

Sweetie, and Lyra Heartstrings, and Dove Bronzewing.

That was surprising. Team SAPR, Penny, they were in the know, they were Ozpin’s agents, it was to be expected that they would be set to guard the Fall Maiden. It was a little more surprising that the Fall Maiden would be allowed to venture into Vale, but leave that for now. That was not important.

What was important was the proximity of Bon Bon — or Sweetie Drops, whichever name you preferred — to the Maiden.

How had she managed it? How had she managed it for her whole team? Why had Ozpin decided to trust them?

It was certainly fortuitous, so fortuitous that Tempest almost wanted to distrust it.

Almost because, in trusting it, it offered the opportunity for this to be far, far easier than she had thought.

She turned away, her mind awhirl with possibilities.

Busted Taillight (New)

Busted Taillight

The girl who sat next to Gilda in the front of the truck looked human.

Pretty much, anyway; there were a few markings on her face, and on her hands and shoulders too, that looked like they might be freckles, or else some kind of skin condition, but which Gilda thought were actually speckles, or maybe even isolated scales.

She still wasn’t quite sure exactly what kind of faunus the other girl was though, and she could pass for human, pretty much, which was why she was sitting in the cab of the truck with Gilda while the rest of the infiltration unit that the High Leader had assigned to her for this mission was shoved into the back like the sacks of coffee that, according to the logo on the side of the lorry, they were supposed to be carrying.

The girl’s name was Ilia, Ilia Amitola, and it was probably a bit rich of Gilda to call her a girl when there probably wasn't much in it between them in terms of age. She was smaller than Gilda, and slighter too, with blue-grey eyes and reddish-brown hair worn in a long high ponytail that rose up behind her head and then dropped down to her waist. The cap that she was wearing, a cheap grey thing to go along with the cheap, crumpled grey jumpsuit that she was wearing to complement her look as a delivery person, had a hole in the back to let the ponytail out.

Gilda was dressed just the same way, although she was wearing a larger suit than she really needed so that she could wear her black bodysuit underneath.

What she couldn’t have with her was her swords. Ilia didn’t have her weapon with her either; it was in the back with Gilda’s blades and the rest of the crew.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t have any problems. If they did have problems … then they would deal with it.

For now, they had not had any problems. Gilda’s fake ID had gotten them through the Atlesian troops manning the Green Line, and now they were approaching the Red Line, the walls of Vale that served as its main defence against an attack by the grimm.

Gilda kept her hands on the steering wheel, even as she shifted her body uncomfortably in her seat. This seat wasn’t made for bird faunus, and having to keep her wings tucked up behind her was really cramping them, not to mention the fact that every time she even tried to lean back, she hurt her wings from crushing them, which meant that she had to lean forwards all the time, and her back was starting to protest.

She would be very glad when they reached the safehouse they were heading to — a place in one of the majority faunus districts of the city, where they could lie low with little chance of being betrayed — and she could get out of this truck and stretch her wings.

Of course, when they did reach the safehouse, then they would also be that much closer to their goal, to the mission that the High Leader had assigned her: the deaths of Blake and Dashie.

Their deaths for the crime of helping the faunus and attacking the SDC.

Their crimes of making the White Fang look bad by the fact that two Atlesians were able to get more results than them.

The High Leader had a way of talking, and her reasons, her motivations, sounded reasonable, plausible … but Gilda couldn’t help but think that there was something vindictive about all this, something spiteful and petty. ‘You’ve shown me up, so I’ll kill you.’

Or perhaps Gilda just didn’t want to go through with it, and so she was thinking up reasons why it would be a bad thing to do.

She didn’t really want to do this, not even to become leader of the Vale Chapter. She would do it, because she was a good soldier, a loyal and dutiful soldier, and she would follow her orders, but she didn’t want to do it.

She didn’t want to kill Rainbow Dash because Dashie was still her friend in spite of everything, and she didn’t want to kill Blake because … it was harder to say why she didn’t want to kill Blake. Blake, far more than Rainbow, had it coming: she had betrayed her mask, joined with hated Atlas; she had abandoned Adam and the cause.

But she had also fought alongside them before she left, which might be said to make the betrayal even worse, or it might … it would be easy to say that Blake had never stood shoulder to shoulder with them, but then people might say the same about her after the way she’d behaved with Adam and Cinder and Mountain Glenn and the rest.

Blake had stood shoulder to shoulder with them, as much as Adam would let her, until it became too much for her to take.

It was hard for Gilda to judge her for that. After all, they were all outlaws, renegades, criminals in the eyes of the law. They had no laws of their own; they had no uniforms, no officers. All they had, really, was their belief in the cause, and if that belief stopped … who was to say you couldn’t walk away?

Ideally, you wouldn’t walk away and then put on an Atlesian uniform afterwards, but Gilda didn’t think that had been Blake’s plan when she left.

It had become the plan, obviously, but sometimes, life came at you fast, didn’t it?

And she was Lady Belladonna’s daughter, the daughter of the High Chieftain of Menagerie, but more importantly, she was the daughter of the woman who had made it possible for Gilda’s parents to retire to Menagerie, to leave their lives of graft in the Low Town cold behind and live it up on some sunny beach, drinking fresh mango juice while goldfish nibbled at their toes, to hear them tell it. That reminded her; she should check on that PO box she had in the city while she was here, there might be more letters from home. Gilda’s letters were frequently terse, mostly because she was lying through her teeth about her life in Vale, but her parents' letters were more expansive; they couldn’t wait to tell her all about what a wonderful time they were having in Menagerie, a land without work, without business, without laws or cops, without fences or boundaries, without debts or slaves or servants. A land where all were idle, and nature’s bounty supplied all their needs without the need to toil for them, as though the God of Animals himself had blessed the land, or blessed the people that the land should keep them.

They made it sound like a paradise. Such a paradise, in fact, that the idea that the faunus had fought a war to avoid having to go there seemed ridiculous.

And it was all thanks to Blake’s mother, who sponsored so many poor and humble faunus like Gilda’s folks to make the journey to paradise.

And for that, Gilda was going to kill her daughter? It didn’t seem right. It stuck in her craw.

She shook her head; it wasn’t doing her any good to think about this, just thoughts going around and round in her head, nothing new or good coming out of them.

“Everything okay?” Ilia asked.

They were the first words she’d spoken to Gilda since they got in the truck. Until then, she’d been content to stare out of the windscreen, eyes on the road ahead, acting like Gilda wasn’t there — or as though she, Ilia, were somewhere else.

“I’m fine,” Gilda muttered. She furrowed her brow. “You’ve come from Menagerie, right?”

“Yeah,” Ilia said. “What about it?”

“What’s it like?” Gilda asked.

Ilia glanced at her. “Why? You want a transfer?”

“No,” Gilda said quickly. “My folks live there. I want to know if it’s as awesome as they say it is or if they’re hyping it up too much.”

Ilia was quiet for a moment.

“Menagerie isn’t perfect,” she said quietly. “The interior isn’t really habitable — the wildlife is too dangerous, and water is too scarce — so our people have to live on the coast. That means there isn’t enough space; that means people live cramped together, all except for the Belladonnas, who get to live in their big house on the hill lording it over the rest of us!”

“Privilege of being in charge,” Gilda said.

“At the expense of their people?” Ilia asked.

“The High Leader’s hall isn’t small, is it?” Gilda replied.

“The High Leader doesn’t live in Kuo Kuana,” Ilia answered. “The White Fang headquarters are in the interior.”

“But you just said—”

“Water is scarce, but you can find it if you look,” Ilia explained. “And we have nothing to fear from the local wildlife. We’re not taking space that others desperately need.”

“Hmm,” Gilda murmured. “My parents tell me that nobody works. That the land provides for everyone.”

“That’s not entirely true, but I can see why they said it,” Ilia said. “There are those who work, either in Kuo Kuana or on the coast, or even braving the inland; there are vineyards, and fishing boats, but … but your folks aren’t wrong. It’s like crops just spring up out of the ground, fruit trees sprout with no urging and always bring forth so much, and so succulent, soft and juicy too. It’s not quite right to say that no one works, but it is right to say that no one has to work. Nobody has to crawl into the dangerous darkness to add more zeroes to Jacques Schnee’s bank balance; nobody has to break their backs to pay rent to the Mistralian lord who owns the land; nobody has to live in terror of the bailiff or the debtor’s cell, the pink slip or the eviction notice. In Atlas, they say ‘is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?’, but in Menagerie we ask ‘is a man not entitled to a share in the common wealth?’”

“Sounds as idyllic as my parents speak of it,” Gilda murmured.

“Your parents weren’t born there, were they?” Ilia asked. “They moved.”

Gilda nodded. “From Low Town, under Atlas.”

“Menagerie might not be perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than Atlas,” Ilia said, almost growling.

“And you don’t think the Belladonnas have something to do with that?” Gilda asked. “Something that warrants the big house, maybe.”

Ilia scowled. “No one deserves to have so much more than the rest,” she said.

Gilda supposed she could see that argument, whether she agreed with it or not. “So why did you leave? What makes you want to leave a place like Menagerie and fight in Vale or Mistral?”

Ilia was quiet for a moment. “For the cause,” she said shortly, and kind of sharply too. “I’m not going to shirk my duty to our brothers and sisters in the rest of Remnant, who need someone to fight for them.”

That sounded … it sounded a little like she’d memorized it, perhaps to answer questions like the one that Gilda had just asked. But, if that was the case, then it was no doubt because she didn’t want to share the real answer with just anyone, and that was fair enough in Gilda’s book. They’d only just met after all, and they weren’t friends.

No, you’re going to kill your friend.

Gilda ignored that thought. The point was that she and Ilia were only here because the High Leader had commanded it so; it wasn’t as though they were going to hang out once this mission was over. Once the mission was over, they would probably never see each other again.

So she let the conversation lapse, let the silence fall, let the only sound be the noise of the truck, its engine grumbling as it devoured the road on the way to Vale.

The Red Line was directly ahead of them now, the wall rising up out of the ground to bar their way. The defence of Vale was a mixture of concrete and metal, a solid rampart with a solid metal gate — one of several — built into it, with firing slits in the wall and guns built into it and resting on top of it, all pointing outwards towards any grimm horde that might head towards the city. How many of those guns were still in good condition, how many people could fire out of those firing slits, Gilda couldn’t have said; Vale had a bit of a reputation for letting its defences slide, but they certainly looked impressive enough. She wouldn’t have wanted to attack them head on, any more than she had really wanted to go through that tunnel and the Breach.

There were a few men who could be seen moving up on top of the solid walls, but there was no one manning the gate as Gilda drove the truck up to it. Instead, there was a camera and a microphone mounted on top of a metal pole painted yellow. Gilda pushed down on the brake, pulling the truck up next to the camera, and leaned out of the window to press the button that would alert whoever was monitoring the camera to her presence.

There was a moment’s pause before a voice emerged out of the tinny speakers. “What’s your business?”

“Coffee business,” Gilda said, “Magic Beans coffee business. We just got back from a delivery.”

“They make you deliver outside of Vale in a truck?”

“Airships cost too much,” Gilda said.

The voice on the other end of the line whistled. “I do not envy you, buddy. ID please.”

Gilda got out the fake ID, identifying her as Goldie Fawn, Valish born and bred.

She flashed it in front of the camera.

“I’m opening the gate for you now,” the voice said. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks, Mister,” Gilda said. “It’s good to be back.”

There was a moment’s pause before the gate opened, the metal sheet — painted in Valish green, with red and black warning stripes along the base — rising up into the wall itself, opening up a view into Vale itself, or at least its outer limits. Nobody really lived so close to the defences; even if they didn’t really worry that the defences might not hold, nobody wanted to live right up against a wall where there might be soldiers marching around or test firing artillery or generally making it difficult to get a good night’s sleep. It would be like having neighbours who really loved their fireworks. And so, as Gilda drove the truck through the open gate, it was clear that most of the buildings were warehouses, for storing the kind of things that wouldn’t be disturbed by marching feet or guns going off.

As they drove through the gate, Gilda turned on the CCTNav; she’d already programmed in their destination, and shortly, a little map of Vale, or at least the part of Vale they were in now, appeared on the dashboard, with a yellow line indicating what road to take.

Gilda turned right, as directed.

Ilia looked down at her hands. They were clasped together in her lap.

“You’ve seen Blake, haven’t you?” she asked.

Gilda kept her eyes on the road. “'Blake'?”

“Blake Belladonna,” Ilia said, as though there might be a different Blake in the Vale Chapter of the White Fang. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“Sort of,” Gilda said. “It was in the middle of a battle, so I didn’t get a good look.”

“In Mountain Glenn?” Ilia asked.

“No, I … actually, yes, I did catch a glimpse of her in Mountain Glenn,” Gilda admitted. She’d forgotten that, until Ilia reminded her. “She was running to catch a train.”

“How did she look?”

“How do you mean?” Gilda replied. “Do you want to know if she looked happy, healthy? I told you, I was busy, and I didn’t get a good look at her.”

“Forget it,” Ilia muttered, looking away out the window as she rested her elbow on the door.

Gilda let it lie for a moment, focusing on the navigation, taking the turning indicated, before she said, “Did you know her?”

Ilia took a second to answer. “We were in the Mistral Chapter together. She … she was my friend.”

“I didn’t know Blake had any friends,” Gilda muttered.

“Well, she did,” Ilia snapped. “I shouldn’t have let her go to Vale by herself.”

“She was with Adam,” Gilda pointed out.

“Obviously, that wasn’t enough, was it?” Ilia demanded.

“No, I guess not,” Gilda murmured. “I wish she’d stuck around too.” She frowned. “Listen, I know what it’s like. I’ve got a friend with the Atlesians too.”

“The other one that we’ve been ordered to kill, right?” Ilia asked.

Gilda nodded slowly. “That’s right. Rainbow Dash.”

“Is that going to be a problem for you?”

“Is killing Blake going to be a problem for you?” Gilda shot back.

Ilia didn’t respond. “What do you think made her do it?” she asked.

“Quit?”

“Sell us out,” Ilia said, “to Atlas.” She spat the name with all the venom of an adder.

Gilda took a deep breath. “I can’t speak to why she decided to wear the Atlas uniform, but she left the White Fang because she couldn’t stand … I think it’s because she couldn’t stand the killing anymore. I don’t know what happened on that train job to push her over the edge, but I think it must have been more of a last straw kind of thing.”

“And so she betrayed us?” Ilia demanded. “And so she doesn’t just leave, she doesn’t even just go to Beacon, she joins Atlas? Atlas? After everything that they’ve done to m—” She stopped. “After everything that they’ve done to us, to our people, she chooses them, she chooses … what would make her do something like that? After all Blake has been through, after all we went through together—”

“You two were close, huh?”

“I…” Ilia didn’t finish whatever sentence she’d just about begun. “Blake … was my hope. I thought that she would be the one to lead us to freedom.”

“I thought the same about Adam, once.”

“Adam was never … Adam was always a dog,” Ilia declared. “Blake was made of the right stuff. Or at least, I thought she was. The High Leader thought so too; that’s why she was grooming Blake to succeed her.”

“Then why didn’t she make Blake leader of the Vale Chapter?”

“The High Leader said she needed to learn to follow before she’d be ready to lead,” Ilia explained.

“That worked out well,” Gilda muttered.

Ilia said, “And you’ve no idea why she decided to join … them?”

“I haven’t been in a position to ask her about it,” Gilda pointed out.

“What about your friend, why did she join Atlas?” asked Ilia.

Gilda huffed. “A bunch of humans got their claws into her. They did things to her brain.”

“Maybe your friend got her claws into Blake,” Ilia suggested. She was silent for a few seconds. “The answer is yes.”

“Yes … what?”

“Yes,” Ilia said. “I can kill her. I’ll kill them both by myself if I have to. For the cause.”

“Right,” Gilda said. “For the cause.”

Or for yourself?

Gilda made the next turn, coming onto a two-lane street sandwiched between some suburban houses, with modest front gardens with lawns and flowerbeds and garden gnomes fishing in the tiny ponds.

Whatever else Gilda and Ilia might have said to one another was interrupted by the sound of a siren blaring behind them.

Gilda looked out of one of the wing mirrors; the first thing she saw was a red and blue light flashing brightly, almost blindingly so, but once she could look beyond the white light, she could make out the cop car that was flashing those lights.

Gilda cursed under her breath even as she started to pull over on the side of the road, easing the truck to a stop.

The cop car pulled up behind them. It was a blocky vehicle, mostly black with a big white stripe running down the middle of it and the letters 'VPD' written on the hood. The siren stopped, but the lights remained on, flashing red and blue, as the doors of the car opened and two police officers emerged.

They were both humans, two men, their sleeves rolled up to expose their muscular arms, each with one hand hovering above the holsters of their blocky Valish pistols as they split up, each walking around one side of the truck.

“What do we do?” Ilia asked. “Fight?”

“'Fight'?” Gilda repeated. “I thought you were supposed to be an infiltration specialist; no, we’re going to talk our way out of this.” She kept her hands on the wheel.

One police officer appeared beside her, looking up at her with his brown eyes, a sneer playing on a sallow face that might have been cute if it hadn’t been for the disgusted way that he was looking at her.

Gilda could see no sign of his partner.

Gilda tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Is there a problem, officer?”

“You’ve got a busted taillight,” the cop said.

“No, we don’t,” Gilda said.

There was the sound of breaking glass from the back of the truck.

“Yeah,” the cop said, “You do.” He smirked. “Better not contradict me too much, feathers; it makes you sound hostile. Hostility makes me nervous.”

The other police officer appeared on the other side of the truck, facing Ilia. He was the older looking of the two, with sunken cheeks and heavy brows that overshadowed their eyes.

“What’s a good-looking girl like you doing with a bird like this?” He leered. “Why don’t you come for a ride in our car, love; I promise it goes a lot faster than this thing.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Ilia said flatly.

“Look, officers,” Gilda said, “we’ve got a job to do, a lot of deliveries to make—”

“I’m going to have to ask you to watch your tone,” the cop standing at Gilda’s door said.

“There’s nothing wrong with my tone!” Gilda squawked.

“Calm down!” the cop snapped, hand going to the grip of his weapon. “Keep your hands on the wheel.”

Gilda’s knuckles went white as she gripped the wheel so tightly it might crack. With their aura, she and Ilia could certainly kill these two if it came to it, without the help of any of the guys stuffed in the back of the truck, but that might bring attention to them which they really didn’t want.

But what was the alternative? Get shot? Drive off and get chased all through Vale?

Hope that these cops weren’t actually in the mood to shoot someone.

“Where did you get this van, eh?” the cop standing opposite Ilia asked. “Did you steal it?”

As a matter of fact, they had, or at least the White Fang had. Ilia said, “It belongs to our company; read what it says on the side.”

“I can read,” Ilia’s cop said. “I just don’t believe any self-respecting company would employ a bird to drive for them.”

“Let me see your licence and registration,” Gilda’s officer demanded.

Gilda took one hand off the wheel to get the fake ID.

Her cop drew his weapon and pointed it at Gilda’s head. “Put your hands on the wheel now!” he roared.

“But you just—”

“Hands!”

Gilda put her hands back on the wheel. “There, my hands are on the wheel.” It took a great deal of self-restraint not to add ‘are you happy now?’

She didn't say it, but she might as well have, because there was little doubt in her mind at this point that these two meant to shoot them.

They were going to shoot them, and then they were going to say that Gilda had been hostile, that she'd made them afraid for their lives — and, yes, they might well be afraid for their lives with the White Fang around, but they didn't know that Gilda and Ilia were White Fang, and if they had known that, they wouldn't have dared pull them over without backup — and so, really, who could blame them for pulling the trigger?

And if Gilda and Ilia hadn't been in the White Fang, if they hadn't had aura, if they weren't able to kill these two basically whenever they chose, then…

Then we'd be dead.

This was why the White Fang was necessary. Stuff just like this, stuff that Blake and Dash, for all their good intentions, would never stop, would probably never even see, stuff like this that went on every day in Vale, and Mantle, and Mistral, and everywhere faunus and humans lived together. This was what the White Fang was for, when you got right down to it, to stand up against stuff like this, to bite back every once in a while.

Maybe the White Fang hadn't exposed slavery on the part of the SDC, maybe they hadn't started a strike in Mantle, maybe they hadn't changed the world yet, but they could strike back against small injustices, they could revenge wrongs done to the faunus, and they could make sure that a couple of bad cops wouldn't get the chance to hurt any faunus who were less prepared for trouble than she was.

Yeah. Yeah, Gilda was going to kill them both. That hadn't been the plan at first, and it would not be without its problems, but … well, first of all, it didn't look like these cops were going to give them the chance to drive away peacefully, and secondly, they were really starting to get on her nerves.

"This isn't a city for faunus any more," said Ilia's cop. "The real Valish are taking our kingdom back."

Gilda didn't look at Ilia. No doubt one of the High Leader's elite would know what to do once Gilda made a move.

Three, two—

There was the sound of another car pulling up behind the truck and the cop car, although Gilda couldn't see what kind of car because she didn't want to look in her mirror to check. She heard a door open and then slam shut.

"What's going on here, fellas?" asked the new voice. It was a woman's voice, with a thick, strong accent.

"Get back in your car, love; this is an ongoing incident," said Ilia's cop.

"It's 'Lieutenant' to you, darlin'," the apparent lieutenant said. "Lieutenant Martinez, Flying Squad. Now, I'm going to ask you again: what's going on here?"

"Pulled this truck over for a broken taillight," said Gilda's cop, looking away from Gilda. "The driver became hostile."

"Is that so?" asked Martinez flatly. "Probably because you broke their taillight."

"We—"

"Yeah, you did," Martinez said. "And I know you did because I can see the glass on the ground. Or am I supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"

Gilda's cop snorted. "You want to watch yourself, Lieutenant. The kind of cops who throw accusations like that around find that nobody answers when they call for backup."

"I'll take my chances," Martinez growled. "Now, why don't you two get back in your car and drive on?"

There was a moment's pause. Neither of the two uniformed cops moved.

"Now!" Martinez barked.

Now, they moved. Too slow for Gilda's liking, and with obvious reluctance, but they moved all the same. Out of her mirror, she watched them slouch back to their car, slamming the doors petulantly as they went. They turned off the bright flashing lights that meant that Gilda had to squint to look at them.

Their engine growled as they started to drive away.

They both stared out of their windows at Gilda and Ilia as they drove past.

As the squad car disappeared down the road, Lieutenant Martinez walked into view. She was a faunus, which was at once surprising — a faunus lieutenant in the police — and at the same time unsurprising, because who else would have bothered to stick up for them like that? She was a tall woman, with shoulder-length brown hair and kind of ducky lips that made her look as if she was permanently pouting, all set in an oval-shaped face. She wore a dark grey trouser suit with a white blouse, and a brown horse tail emerged from out of her pants to drop towards the floor.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "On behalf of the VPD, I apologise."

"Thanks for the help, Lieutenant," Gilda replied.

"Yeah, well," Martinez muttered. "Do you have long to go?"

"Why?"

"Because now you really do have a busted taillight, and anyone else who wants to pull you over will have an excuse," Martinez explained. "So get where you're going as fast as you can."

"Should we be worried?" asks Gilda.

Martinez frowned. "This city … ever since the Breach, something has been different about it. And I'm not just talking about people being on edge — that you could understand — I'm talking about people blaming the faunus. People … being more open about how they feel. There have always been my fellow officers who didn't like me — they were there when I joined, and some of them will still be there when I take my pension — but now it's like they feel they can say it louder than they used to."

"But you still work for them," Ilia said.

"It's not all of us, kid," Martinez replied. "It's a few rotten apples; there are plenty of good cops, and I happen to think I'm one of them."

"One rotten apple spoils the whole barrel," said Ilia. "That's the point."

Martinez snorted. "Well, if I get left to have my head kicked in the next time I call for backup, I'll know you were right, but you haven't been right yet." She took a step back. "Best of luck to both of you."

"And you, Lieutenant," Gilda said. "Thanks again." She put her foot on the accelerator, gently easing the truck forward off the curb and back onto the road.

"She's deluding herself," Ilia muttered.

"Same as Rainbow Dash," Gilda replied. "Same as Blake too, probably."

Doesn't mean that they deserve to die for it though.

But her doubts … her doubts were lessened now; they didn't shout so loud, they didn't grab at her attention so easily. What had just happened had quietened them down by reminding her of the importance of the cause, of the struggle. Reminding her that they were fighting to bring an end to things like that, as only the White Fang could.

"The High Leader's right," she said. "Dashie, Blake, the things they're doing … they might do some big flashy stuff, convince people that things are changing for the better, but all it does is paper over stuff like this, stuff that happens to ordinary faunus, stuff that doesn't mean headlines or get attention but which has to be stopped."

"And that's why they have to be stopped," Ilia said. "That's why we have to stop them. And we will." She clenched her hand into a fist. "Blake is going to pay the price for her betrayal."

Brave New World (New)

Brave New World

Amber stared at the city with eyes wide, turning in place on the sidewalk as she took in Vale as it rose up all around her, the towers of glass and steel, the buildings of stone, the airships in the sky up above, this city that was both modern and antique in equal measure and in equal measure visible around them.

They had just left the Skydock, all eight of them, and seven of them now stood on the pavement leading to and from the glass doors that they had exited, huddled together somewhat, watching Amber as she skipped a few steps on ahead, to where the road from the Skydock joined the street, one of many that crisscrossed Vale like the streams fanning out from a mighty river.

“This … this is Vale?” she asked, her voice a reverential whisper as she regarded Vale much as Sunset had regarded Mistral as she first caught sight of it from the air, as she and her teammates were borne towards it through the skies.

Sunset did not find Vale so impressive, but if Amber did, well, then who was Sunset to argue with that?

“Yes,” Dove replied, a smile upon his face as he watched her and her enthusiasm. “Yes, this is Vale. It’s impressive, but at the same time, I found it a little overwhelming at first. It’s … I could hardly imagine that anywhere so big could exist anywhere in the world.”

Amber looked down and looked at Dove. “It is very big, isn’t it? Ozpin told me that it was vast, but … I never imagined that he meant … it’s so, so big. So big that I can’t see the end of it, or the beginning.”

Dove’s smile broadened. “Once, I told Lyra and Bon Bon that I was going to keep on walking until I reached the city limit.”

Lyra snorted. “Three hours later and without aura, we would have been quite definitely footsore, and even with aura, we were getting pretty fed up with this guy.”

“You went with him?” Amber asked.

“Of course we went with him,” Lyra said, “we weren’t going to let Dove just start walking off towards the Red Line with no idea of how long it would take him to get there. What if he’d never come home?”

“That’s a little bit of an exaggeration,” Bon Bon pointed out. “I’m sure he would have given up and turned around eventually.”

“I don’t know,” Lyra said. “Dove can be as stubborn as a rock sometimes.”

Amber giggled. “Did you make it? All the way to the end of the city, I mean?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Lyra said. “After four hours, Bon Bon and I were willing to call it quits, but Dove wasn’t — so much for ‘he’d have given up eventually’—”

“So these two cheated,” Dove declared.

“We did not cheat, and if we did, you did too,” Lyra replied quickly. “And we saw the edge of the city, what more do you want?”

“What did you do?” asked Penny.

“We got a cab to the wall,” Lyra explained. “Like sensible people.”

Amber’s brow furrowed. “A cab?”

“Oh, yeah, Dove didn’t know what they were either,” Lyra said. “It’s a car that you can pay to take you places.”

“A car,” Amber repeated. She turned around, and with the same wide-eyed wonder that she had had for the city, she regarded the automobiles whizzing by down the road she stood beside. “That’s them, isn’t it, those horseless carriages? I think I’ve been told about them; they’re cars, aren’t they?”

“When did someone last say ‘horseless carriage’?” asked Bon Bon.

“Just now,” Sunset said. “Try and keep up.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Dove said. “Yes, those are cars.”

Amber gasped in amazement. “Oh—”

“Brave new world?” Sunset guessed.

Amber looked back at her. “I’m sorry. I suppose I say that too much.”

“Is it really possible to say anything too much?” asked Pyrrha. “Provided the words are not offensive or insulting, I think not.”

“Although I am a little curious as to where it comes from,” Sunset added. “Assuming it comes from anywhere outside of your own head.”

Amber fell silent for a moment. “I … I don’t remember,” she admitted. “I feel as though I ought to remember, but I don’t. I … it’s gone from my mind. I think I must have read it somewhere, but I don’t remember where, or what else I read alongside it, or why the words stuck with me so. That’s all that I remember. ‘Oh, brave new world.’”

“'Oh brave new world, that has such people in it?'” Ruby guessed. “I think they’re Percy’s words.”

Sunset frowned. “'Percy'?”

“The Swan Knight,” Ruby explained. “She served King Edward at the same time as Olivia; she’s even mentioned a few times in the Song of Olivia, but her story is told more completely in other stories. Like Olivia, she was a country girl, or so she thought; when she found out that her father was actually a knight in King Edward’s court, she set off to find him and to claim her place as his acknowledged daughter. When she arrived in Vale, at the King’s court, she was astonished by … everything, and everyone she met: Olivia, King Edward, the wizard Osfred, Nimue, the other knights: ‘Oh, brave new world.’” Ruby grinned. “You’re not the only one who remembers quotes from stories.”

“Wherever it’s from,” Amber said, “it fits, doesn’t it? This is a brave new world, to me, at least; if I was ever here before, I don’t remember it, and I … I can’t think that I would have ever come here before. And it’s so full of wonderful people, who have made me feel so warm and so welcomed.” She beamed, as bright as the sun that shone down upon them. “So, Pyrrha, where do we go from here?”

Pyrrha was smiling too as she said, “Wherever you like, it’s entirely up to you.”

“Really?” Amber gasped. “But it’s your—”

“It’s entirely up to you,” Pyrrha insisted.

Amber fell silent, once more turning to look around her at the vast city, the enormous beating heart of this kingdom, that sprawled all around them.

“Whatever I want,” she murmured. “What I want…” She laughed for joy. “I want to see the concert hall where the great singers perform, I want to see the library where every book ever written is stored, I want to see everything that Ozpin told me about and more! I want to see all of your favourite places, too! I want…” She held out her hands towards Dove. “I want you to show me the Valish life.”

Dove walked towards her, his borrowed cape bouncing a little through the combination of his movements and the breeze as he approached. He reached out for her, enclosing her hands in his own.

“I’m hardly Valish in that sense myself, but I’ll do my best. And I’m sure,” he went on, looking back at the others, “that the others will help me if I get it wrong.”

“You can’t get it wrong,” Ruby assured him. “Not if you’re seeing what you want to see.”

“You can get the directions wrong,” Dove pointed out.

“Okay, yeah, you can, in which case, we’ll help,” Ruby said. “Assuming we don’t get the directions wrong ourselves.”

“I’m sure we’ll find our way somewhere, somehow,” Sunset declared. “Although seeing the whole of Vale and its life is likely to be a bit of a tall order for one day.”

“But we can start, can’t we?” Amber asked. “We can start, before…”

She trailed off, and for the benefit of Lyra and Bon Bon — the benefit of keeping Lyra and Bon Bon in the dark, at least — Sunset was glad that she trailed off, but Sunset could guess — and probably all of them who knew the truth could guess — what she had been about to say.

“We can start before I have to go away into hiding.”

As Pyrrha had said, they couldn’t stop that; it was Amber’s fate, and would be now for as long as she lived, since Salem knew that she was the Fall Maiden. Even if Cinder died, then there would be other hunters, other servants of Salem who coveted the power of a Maiden. Secrecy would be Amber’s cloak and prison both until she breathed her last.

But not right now. Right now, as Pyrrha said, they had the opportunity to make not only Amber’s stay with them but her life more comfortable, more pleasant, to be a ray of light for her in what would otherwise be a rather miserable existence, otherwise brightened only by the presence of Dove by her side.

They had the opportunity to give her some memories that would last a lifetime, so that when she had to go into hiding and dwell in secret in some misbegotten forest far from the hustle and bustle of the world, she might look back and remember the days when she had such friends as they to keep her company and had seen such sights as Vale and Mistral had to offer.

“As I said,” she said, “we’ll find our way. A concert hall, you said?”

“The concert hall,” Amber corrected her. “Ozpin … he once told me that I was good enough to sing there, and although he was such a liar, I’d like to believe that he was right about that.”

“He was not a liar in all things,” Sunset murmured. “And not, I think, in this.”

“No,” Dove agreed. “Certainly not in this. Take it from someone who has never lied to you.”

“You know, Dove’s told us so much about your voice that we have to hear you sing sometime,” Lyra said. “I’m kind of musical myself, so I’d love to jam with you.”

“What kind of music?” asked Amber.

“I can sing,” Lyra said, “though I don’t know if I’d have the nerve to try and sing alongside someone whose voice can make a man fall in love just from hearing it,” — she smirked — “but I play the lyre too; I could accompany you, if there’s a song we both know.”

“Oh, the lyre!” Amber sighed. “I love the lyre; it has such a sweet sound, doesn’t it? I had a silver lyre that Ozpin gave me, but … I don’t remember what happened to it. Dove, I don’t suppose that you know?”

Dove shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I remember the instrument — you played for me once or twice, when we sat together beneath the trees — but I don’t know what became of it; I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Amber assured him. “It wasn’t your harp.”

“Professor Ozpin might know,” Sunset suggested.

Amber hesitated. She sighed. “I … I suppose he might,” she admitted. “Sunset, would you mind asking him for me when we get back?”

That was meant as an invitation for you to go and talk to him, maybe start the process of building a bridge between the two of you, Sunset thought, with a degree of chagrin.

But if Amber really didn’t want to speak to him, then … then it wasn’t the place of Sunset or anybody else to force her.

“Very well,” she said. “I will speak to him. But first,” — she got out her scroll — “let’s see if we can’t find the grandest concert hall in Vale.”

She started with the relatively simple search of ‘Concert halls Vale,’ which yielded a modest plethora of results, which she then began to scroll through, looking at each one in turn.

“While we’re here,” Ruby said, “it might not be much fun, but we should also get you a new weapon as well.”

The smile died from Amber’s face. “Do I … do I have to?”

“It’s for the best, as Ruby says,” Pyrrha said gently. “It doesn’t mean you’ll have to use it, but … at least you’ll have it, in case of need.”

Amber embraced herself, putting her hands upon her arms, shivering a little though it was no colder. “I … I suppose,” she whispered.

“Weapons aren’t something that can be so easily replaced,” Bon Bon pointed out.

“Not all of them,” Ruby admitted. “But we could find something, or just get the parts on order.”

“What kind of weapon did you use?” Jaune asked. “Or, I guess 'what kind of weapon do you want' would be the question.”

A staff, Sunset thought, with a dust crystal set in it. But, since she had learned that fact from Amber’s own memories, she kept it to herself.

“A staff,” Amber said. “I learned how to use a staff.”

“Okay,” Jaune said. “I think we ought to be able to find one of those somewhere.”

“We’ll make time to swing by a weapons store,” Sunset said. “But first … let’s see … the Queen’s Hall, the Big O, Fetterley Stadium— ah, the Salvation Hall. Built after the Great War to celebrate blah blah, expanded after Ozpin’s Stand blah rhubarb, has hosted some of the biggest names in music including Weiss Schnee, Sapphire Shores, and Countess Coloratura.” She looked up. “That sounds like the place, doesn’t it?”

“Do you know where it is?” Amber asked.

“Not exactly, but I’m sure I can find it with this map,” Sunset replied.

A drone buzzed past overhead — but not very high overhead, so that it was rather loud and rather noticeable too.

“What was that?” asked Amber, ducking a little.

“A drone,” Bon Bon said.

“That’s a little flying machine,” Lyra explained.

“I wonder what it was doing spying on us,” Bon Bon muttered.

“What makes you think it was spying on us?” asked Lyra.

Because it was, as it happens, Sunset said. Twilight, do you have to fly it so low?

“And so they’re off,” Blake murmured as she watched Amber and her large escort set off down the street, having to move in a mass or a column because there wasn’t room on the street for them all to walk level with one another. Even then, they had to shift position, to flow like water, in order to let people coming the other way pass them by.

“Mmhmm,” Ciel murmured. “Hopefully they do not go anywhere it becomes difficult for us to follow them discreetly.”

Blake nodded. “I hope they have a good day. I feel like anyone who has been through what Amber’s been through deserves a good day, at the least. And hopefully more.”

“Indeed,” Ciel said, still speaking very softly. “Amber is not the only one who deserves one and many more good days, but … yes, she does.”

Blake watched the group move off, glancing at Ciel, who was kneeling down beside her. They were stood on the flat roof of a two-storey building — the lower storey was a fried chicken eatery; the upper storey was probably where the owner lived — across the road from the skydock. Fortunately, it seemed that the roofs were all flat in this area, so they should be able to keep pace with the group, or at least continue to follow on after them, letting them get a little ahead, for some time now.

Blake glanced at Ciel again. Ciel herself did not look at Blake; her eyes were completely fixed upon Amber and the others.

Blake wondered if she ought to mention it. It didn’t seem like her place; she might be joining Atlas but she wasn’t actually a part of Team RSPT, she didn’t know Penny that well, and to be honest, she wasn’t too close to Ciel either. Ciel might not welcome her intrusion in this matter.

And yet, at the same time, Blake felt as though it was a third person up on the roof with them, Ciel’s … anger? Sadness? Bitterness? She wasn’t entirely sure how to say it. It had not been there with them in General Ironwood’s office, but then, she supposed that Ciel wouldn’t have wanted to show it in front of Penny.

“Ciel—” she began.

“I do not require your condolences, as appreciated as they are,” Ciel muttered.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “How did you know?”

“I guessed based on the awkward tone with which you began,” Ciel replied. “You would not have said my name with such trepidation unless you wished to venture upon a delicate matter.”

“I … see,” Blake said softly. She paused for a moment. “But Rainbow’s right, bottling up your feelings—”

“Perhaps I am an old-fashioned girl,” Ciel said sharply. “But I worship at the altar of God and the Lady, not of … self-expression. There are feelings that are fit and proper to be expressed and those which are not; those, I shall keep in my heart and pray for the strength to expunge them.”

Blake frowned. “Does Penny know?”

Ciel sighed. “Penny knows more than I should like. I … I said some things to her before I comprehended the justice of her cause. And her cause is just. I know that, with head and heart, I have accepted that, that is why I spoke in her favour before General Ironwood, that … that is what makes it so unseemly that I…”

“You realise I can’t finish that sentence if you won’t say how you feel, right?” Blake said.

“What makes you think I want you to finish my sentence for me?” asked Ciel.

“You … you’re right,” Blake murmured. “I … I’m sorry; I’m prying into your affairs, and I’m not even your team leader. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“It is alright,” Ciel said. “Your attempt at kindness is appreciated. As is the aid you rendered to Mantle.”

“Thanks,” Blake said. “Although I wasn’t exactly trying to help Mantle at the time.”

“Nevertheless, you have brought hope to the city,” Ciel said. “It … it takes a kind soul to look at a place like Mantle and see somewhere in need of assistance and not just somewhere to escape from.”

“Perhaps not a kind soul,” Blake replied, “but an outsider’s eye.”

“No, I think you are most definitely kind,” Ciel answered. “It may not express itself in boundless exuberant embraces or an effervescent manner, but nevertheless … you are so full of kindness it rather awes me somewhat.”

“I…” Blake hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t set out to awe Ciel, or anybody else for that matter, and to hear that she had … first Rainbow, now Ciel, what was it about her — about her — that people seemed to find awe-inspiring? She didn’t even consider herself particularly inspiring, let alone awe-inspiring. “I … don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing and take the compliment,” Ciel suggested.

Blake snorted. “Okay then,” she muttered. Again, she paused, then she said, “I know that I said I shouldn’t intrude—”

“And yet,” Ciel said.

“And yet … I’ve been in Penny’s situation,” Blake said. “I’ve done what Penny did; I left a group of people who…”

“Please do not compare us with the White Fang,” Ciel said flatly.

“It’s not an exact comparison, of course,” Blake said, “but at the same time, if you can’t expunge those feelings, as you put it, then I worry that … they will gnaw at you.”

“As I said,” Ciel replied, with some asperity in her voice, “I have accepted with head and heart that this is for the best for Penny, or at the very least that this is what Penny wants. I have accepted that she is — that she must be — free to choose this of her own volition, that no man has the right to stop her and that is how God would have it. My … sadness has no bearing on that, it will not eat at me, it will not corrupt my heart. It may linger, and it may make me sad, but it will not make me cruel because I do not believe that I am right, not even in my heart of hearts.” She paused. “Will she be happy?”

“Penny?”

“Of course Penny,” Ciel said sharply. “Do you think she will be happy here at Beacon?”

“Nothing is certain,” Blake murmured. “But … yes. Yes, I think that she’ll be happy here. Very happy, surrounded by…” She trailed off, unsure of a way to compliment Penny’s Beacon friends without insulting the Atlesians.

Ciel closed her eyes a moment. “That … that is all that matters. Do you think that Amber will be happy?”

“No,” Blake said at once. “No, I don’t think she will.”

“Indeed,” Ciel whispered. “I fear it will be so also.”

“How can she be happy?” asked Blake. “Leading the life that she’ll live once Professor Ozpin spirits her away somewhere she can be kept safely hidden from Salem.”

“In my faith,” Ciel said, “when it was stronger, when religion as a whole was stronger and more prevalent across Remnant, there once arose a heresy of those who, misinterpreting the Lady’s word, believed that the divine justice was to be found in this world, not the next.”

“You mean they thought that people would get what they deserved in this life, not after death?” Blake said.

“Precisely,” Ciel said. “The truth, the truth as revealed to us, is that God shall judge us in the life to come and that those who were hungry, those who were cold, those who were put down and put upon shall inherit the riches of Heaven. But the Interventionists believed that all of that would occur in this life, that as we sin, so do we suffer. It was not a movement that enjoyed widespread acceptance because so many people could see that it was patently false, or else why is it the innocent who seem to suffer so much: Amber, Penny, Alain … all those people you liberated from the clutches of the Schnee Dust Company? What sins had they committed to suffer so?”

“None,” Blake said. “Or at least, none deserving of their suffering.”

“Quite,” Ciel said. “And yet … it is a cruel world, is it not?”

“All the more reason we should be kind in it,” replied Blake.

Ciel nodded. “What…?”

“What … what?” asked Blake.

“What if Amber did not have to go into hiding?” Ciel suggested. “What if she could go somewhere that, while not hidden, was nevertheless safe, somewhere she could be protected without having to huddle away in the darkness and the shadows, somewhere she could dwell in light and in security—?”

“You mean Atlas,” Blake said. “You mean why can’t Amber go and live in Altas?”

“Was it so obvious?”

“The bit about light gave it away just a little bit,” Blake told her, a smile playing upon her lips.

Ciel chuckled. “You must allow a girl her love of Atlas, surely?”

“Allow it?” Blake repeated. “I do more than that.”

“Yes,” Ciel agreed. “Yes, you do, don’t you? In any case, yes, it was Atlas to which I was referring. It is a great city — she would not grow bored there for some time — a city where she and Mister Bronzewing might live enjoying every modern convenience and amenity, a city where she could hardly feel trapped even if she were forbidden to leave the city limits, a city that is well-guarded and, I daresay, a little hard for any servant of Salem to gain entrance to, what with our sophisticated means of surveillance and identification of visitors. Atlas is not a place one can sneak into.”

Blake thought about the way that she had been recognised upon stepping off the airship, greeted by a hologram that knew who she was and that she didn’t have a hotel booked. “I can see your point, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to infiltrate,” she said.

“No,” Ciel allowed. “But there are no remote places in Atlas, at least not unless you descend down into the lower levels at certain times of day, and why would Amber wish to do that? It is not a place teeming with likely locations to stage a discreet ambush and killing. It is, at any rate, preferable to a hole in the ground or a cabin in the woods, you must agree.”

“Oh, definitely,” Blake agreed. “I think … Amber hasn’t expressed any desire to go to Atlas, but I think that, if she enjoys Vale, then she could enjoy Atlas, even if she didn’t quite come to love it. Like you say, it’s got everything that you would need for a life, including good people to be friends with. That doesn’t mean that it will happen, though; it’s not our call, and … I think the Maidens are supposed to remain in their own kingdoms.”

“Would Pyrrha have been forced to remain within this Kingdom of Vale?” Ciel asked. “One of the most famous living Mistralians barred forever from returning to Mistral, an exile forever from her home, an exile who could not even explain the reason for her self-imposed banishment.”

“Self-imposed or imposed by Ozpin?” Blake asked. “But I take your point, it does seem … but what about the Relic of Choice?”

“What of the Relic?” Ciel demanded. “It cannot think, it cannot feel, it does not want or desire; it simply is. If we are to put Penny’s will and desires above the claims of Atlas, as we should, then how can we place the good of Amber lower than the good of some lifeless Relic?” She took a breath. “I will speak to the General about this, whether you agree or no, that … I did not do the right thing in regards to Penny; I was too concerned with orders and duty, well, though I cannot make that right, at least the Lady shall let me learn from it and do better in this case: whatever duty Amber might have to Vale, whatever duty we might have to Professor Ozpin to comply with his decisions in the disposing of Amber, they cannot override Amber’s own will, her happiness, can they?”

Blake scuffed the toe of her foot upon the ground. “Well, when you put it like that, it’s hard to disagree with you.”

“I will speak to General Ironwood about this alone if I must,” Ciel declared, “but I should like your support. You are well-liked by him, and have a passing persuasive tongue if its effect on Rainbow Dash is anything to go by.”

“You’re being pretty persuasive yourself, at the moment,” Blake murmured, a slight smile upon her face. “So much so that I’d agree to help you except for one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You haven’t talked to Amber about what she wants.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “That … is a very good point,” she admitted. “Habits are hard to break, it seems.”

“With the right attitude, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually,” Blake told her.

“I hope so, with … I hope so,” Ciel said. She watched Amber and the group, getting a little further away from them by now. “We should move.”

“Agreed.”

The two of them trailed after Amber and the rest, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between them until they were directly across the street from them, which was also the point at which Amber and others came to a crossroads, with sets of lights to guide both traffic and pedestrians across the two lanes going east west and the other two going north south. As cars flowed east-west and west-east in a river that seemed as though it had neither beginning nor end but which might form an endless loop of growling vehicles circling around Vale before coming back again to this same crossroads, the group waited for the red man to vanish and the green man to show himself. As Blake and Ciel watched, they could see Sunset jabbing the button with her thumb multiple times to no avail.

“Blake,” Ciel said, “can you leap across the distance between us and the other side of the road?”

Blake looked over the side of the roof on which they stood across the traffic-filled road. “I think so,” she murmured. “With some help from Gambol Shroud. You?”

“Possibly not; I may have to catch up with you as swiftly as I may,” Ciel said. “Blake, may I ask you something in turn?”

“If you like,” said Blake. “What?”

“Are you happy,” asked Ciel, “that your light has drawn Sun to Mantle?”

“I never thought of myself as being or giving light,” Blake replied, “but yes, I am happy, provided Sun is happy. I am … you say that I awe you, but Sun awes me that he’s doing this in part for my sake, even if he’s also doing this for the faunus and the people of Mantle. I hope … he’s giving up so much, and I … am I worth it?”

“Probably not, but that is not for you to decide; his choice is made,” Ciel said, bluntly and with consideration in equal measure. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” Blake said. “I will be, so long as he’s happy. Do you … think he’ll be happy, in Mantle?”

“That … that depends,” Ciel replied.

“Depends on what?” asked Blake.

“Upon so much,” said Ciel. “Upon what he finds when he arrives — it may be different than he imagines — upon what he does, and the response to what he does, and what is done to him. Mantle is not such a paradise as Beacon is that I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Sun will be as happy there as you say Penny will be at Beacon. But then, I suppose that if Mantle were such a paradise, then Sun would hardly need to go there at all.”

“How’s it looking down there, Twilight?” Rainbow asked from where she sat in the cockpit of The Bus, circling in the skies over Vale.

“I can see them clearly,” Twilight replied, her voice coming loud and clear over the comm. “Unfortunately, they also saw me.”

“That’s a risk with drones; don’t worry about it,” Rainbow assured her. “Amber probably doesn’t even know what drones are.”

“Everyone else does,” Twilight pointed out.

“And those who know won’t care,” Rainbow told her. “Everyone except for Lyra and Bon Bon is in on this, and even if they work it out, they’ll understand why we’re doing this. I mean, they know that Amber was attacked, right?”

“Probably,” Twilight replied. “I’m not sure what they were told.”

“I’m going to have to make a list of who knows what so I can keep it straight in my head,” Rainbow muttered. “Anyway, if you can see them, how does it look?”

“They’re having to wait a very long time to cross the— oh, the lights changed, finally; they’re moving again,” Twilight said. “For what it’s worth, everyone seems to be getting along.”

“Awesome,” Rainbow said.

“I’m a little worried about Penny, though,” Twilight murmured.

“Why?” asked Rainbow. “What’s there to worry about with Penny? She’s got what she wanted, she’s transferring, there’s … nothing else to it.”

“Except for Amber,” Twilight said.

“What about Amber?”

“Well, it’s probably nothing,” Twilight murmured, “but Penny was Team Sapphire’s extra friend, their friend outside of their team—”

“Team Sapphire have a lot of friends outside their team,” Rainbow pointed out. “Including us.”

“I know, I know,” Twilight replied, “but I suppose what I’m worried about is that Penny might feel … displaced by Amber in Team Sapphire’s affections. And their attentions; I mean, you saw them at breakfast: they were all focussed on Amber, and she lives with them—”

“And there are good reasons for all of that,” Rainbow said. “Come on, Twi, you know as well as anyone that you can have a lot of very good friends; I didn’t feel jealous when you met Applejack, or Pinkie, or Rarity; I knew that you and I would always share a bond, and I formed a bond with the others right along with you. Penny will make friends with Amber as well, and she’s smart and nice and emotionally smart enough that she’ll understand why the others need to focus on Amber for a bit. No offence, Twilight, but I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”

“Jealousy does not always need to be rational,” Midnight declared. “Whatever Penny might know to be true might not dictate how she feels.”

“Maybe not, but Penny isn’t the jealous type,” Rainbow insisted. “There’s no reason for her to become jealous when she and Amber are going to become good friends. You’ll see.”

“You sound very sure of yourself,” Midnight observed.

“I’m sure of Penny,” Rainbow replied. “She’s easy to like, as witnessed by the fact that Team Sapphire likes her so much—”

“And yet her own teammates didn’t like her,” Midnight said pointedly.

Rainbow scowled. “We liked her enough in the end that we were willing to put our careers on the line to help her out,” she said, her voice sharpening. “Yes, we weren’t the best teammates or the best friends, but that was because … there were reasons for that, and they weren’t Penny’s fault. It doesn’t have anything to do with whatever might or might not happen between her and Amber. Who are going to get along, I know it. They’ve got no reason not to.”

Midnight’s holographic form clasped her hands together behind her back and tilted her body a little to the right. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong,” Rainbow said.

“But what if you are?”

“Then Penny still isn’t the jealous type. Twilight, why is your computer such a downer?”

“Possibly because she’s reflecting my thoughts about this,” Twilight suggested, “and I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t a little concerned.”

“Or perhaps because I agree with Twilight’s thought processes, though they are no longer my own,” Midnight said. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Rainbow muttered. “You’re here, and I’m here, so why not?”

“Why did you agree to let Penny leave Atlas, though it is not what she was intended for?” asked Midnight. “Why did you agree to take the possible risk for her sake? Why did you not follow your orders?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Rainbow said.

“That is an answer that explains nothing,” Midnight pointed out.

“Because … because Penny isn’t like you,” Rainbow said. “She’s not just a computer with a simulation of a personality; she’s an actual person, she has thoughts and feelings, she has a voice, she has a soul, she … she’s a person, not a thing, and because she’s a person, then orders and intentions, none of it matters. If two parents have a kid who they intend should take over their store one day, or study medicine, or become the greatest concert pianist that Atlas has ever seen, it doesn’t matter how long they planned for that or how much effort they put into helping their kid realise that dream; if the store-owners’ kid decides they want to study medicine and the one who was supposed to play piano wants to run a store while the one who was supposed to be a medical student wants to play piano, then, well, so what? That’s their choice, because it’s their lives, not their parents’ lives, not anyone else’s, and so nobody gets to tell them how to live, what dreams they’re allowed to have. And it’s the same with Penny; she’s a living thing, a person, and so it doesn’t matter what anyone wants but her.”

“Because she’s conscious?” asked Midnight. “Or because she has a soul?”

Rainbow shrugged. “She has both.”

“But what if she didn’t?”

“She does,” Rainbow replied. “So what’s the point of asking me that?”

Midnight was silent for a second or two. “I suppose there’s no reason,” she admitted.

“What do you think about Sun going to Mantle?” asked Twilight.

“I did not see that one coming,” Rainbow said. “But … I don’t know, I hope it works out for him.”

“Do you think it will?”

“I … I don’t know; it’s Mantle,” Rainbow replied. “I don’t know the place that well, and the fact that I don’t like it means that maybe I judge it too harshly. I respect the guts that it takes to actually decide to move there, especially to do what he’s doing. It’s not a road that I’d want to walk, and to be honest, it’s not a road that I’d want anyone I was really close to to walk either, but it’s a brave road, and like I said, I respect that. He’s got courage, you’ve got to give him that. Plus, you know, it’s sweet that he wants to move closer to Blake.”

“Do you think that Blake deserves that?”

Rainbow winced. “Harsh, Twi, real harsh.”

“You know what I mean though, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But it’s not her fault, it’s … Blake has a road to walk down, and I can’t blame her for that, and nobody else should either. She knows what she wants; it’s not her fault that Sun was standing around still trying to figure it out while she got moving. And now he has, and now he’s moving too, so everything’s okay.” She paused, leaning forward in her seat. “Everything will hopefully be okay,” she said, a little more quietly. “I hope that the two of them can make it work, and I hope that he manages to do some good.”

“Me too,” Twilight said quietly. “If Blake wants to … never mind.” It took her a little before she said anything else. “It was surprising, though; it wasn’t the kind of thing that I would have expected Sun to do. He didn’t seem to really care much about faunus in general.”

“People change,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah,” Twilight replied. “And Sun isn’t the only one.”

Rainbow frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I…” Twilight hesitated. “It’s just that … since we met Blake, since she … since the two of you … over the last year, I’ve noticed that you have become more … faunus.”

Rainbow blinked. “I was always a faunus, Twi; these ears don’t come off.”

“I know, I know,” Twilight said quickly. “I just … what I’m trying to say is … oh, I don’t know, maybe you should … I’m sorry, I—”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, leaning further forward, holding the microphone even closer to her mouth. “Twilight, come on; there is nothing that you can say that you have to apologise to me for. Whatever you want to say, whatever is bothering you, you can say it, and I will love you just the same. But you do need to actually say what you actually mean if you want me to answer it.”

Twilight chuckled. “I know, I know, I … let me see… you didn’t used to call them ‘your people.’ The faunus, I mean … it used to feel like we were your people, but now … I don’t know; perhaps I’m the one who's jealous and everything about Penny was just me projecting.”

“You are my people,” Rainbow declared. “You will always be my people, you and Pinkie and Fluttershy and Applejack and Rarity and you … you most of all. You will always be my people, but at the same time…” She closed her eyes. “Do you remember how I told you, way back when we first got to Beacon, that you would never be able to understand what it was like to be me, not completely?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, I remember.”

“Now, if Ciel were listening to this,” Rainbow said, “you haven’t spoken to Ciel about this, have you?”

“No!” Twilight said firmly. “No, I’d never talk to anyone about this behind your back.”

“No, no, of course you wouldn’t, sorry, I … it’s just that I think Ciel tried to pull me up on this a while back. She didn’t like me reading Sienna Khan’s book.”

“I wasn’t thrilled about it myself,” Twilight murmured. “I mean, it is Sienna Khan.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t Sienna Khan when she wrote it, if that makes sense,” Rainbow replied. “I mean, that was her name, but she was just a history teacher. Before she got fired for trying to teach. Did you know that Ares Claudandus ruled Mistral for eighteen months?”

“Really?” Twilight asked. “I thought the Councils were established after the war when the monarchs laid down their crowns and sceptres.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Rainbow said, “but after the faunus won the war, Ares Claudandus was invited to become Lord Protector of Mistral for the purpose of restoring the kingdom.”

“'Invited,'” Twilight said, “or invited himself?”

“That’s a very good question; as far as I can tell, it was a bit of both,” Rainbow said. “He wanted to be in charge, they got to decide exactly how they would word it. After about a year, he issued a constitution, which named him Protector for life and gave him the power to name his successor.”

“So he was Emperor, basically, in all but name,” said Twilight.

“Pretty much,” Rainbow agreed. “Which he might have gotten away with, except that he spent — or at least, he seems to have spent — a lot of his time in charge sawing the branch off that he was sitting on. He ordered the ex-slaves back to work on the farms and plantations, made it illegal for them to leave on pain of forced hard labour, and yeah, they got a one-tenth share of the crops they produced, but that probably didn’t make up for giving the landlords the right to beat them with sticks.”

“'Beat them'?” Twilight repeated. “Is it me or does that sound a lot like what Calliope Ferny was doing in the SDC mines?”

“Well, she didn’t bring up the comparison, but now that you mention it…”

“Why would a former slave turn around and impose conditions like that on other former slaves?” Twilight asked.

“For the economy, apparently,” Rainbow said. “They needed to get the farms back up and producing again so they had something to export. You’re right, though; that doesn’t make it okay. It makes it … it was wrong. It was wrong, it was not what people deserved, it was worse than what the King of Vale had wanted for the faunus after the Great War. I mean, what does that say, when the faunus of Mistral had more to hope from a Valish king than from one of their own? And it was stupid too. Like I said, he sawed the branch off while he was sitting on it. They were his army, the freed slaves from the fields and the farms, they’d fought for him, they’d won the war, and he’d betrayed them, or that’s how it looked to them. So, when the lords of Mistral pulled out their knives for Ares, they wouldn’t rise up for him, they wouldn’t fight. Why should they? He fell, and that’s when Mistral got its Council.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “I … I didn’t know any of that.”

“Me neither,” Rainbow said. “Although … it was a bit off topic, I think, um … the point is … well, there’s a story, about Claudandus; he was being nagged by Lady, um … Lady … I want to say it was Lady Ming, but it might be Lady Yin, or Lady Qing, I can’t remember her name, but she wanted a job for her son, and she kept on bothering Claudandus to give him this post, and eventually, he must have just gotten fed up with her because he let her have it. He told her that she was a fool if she thought he didn’t know that she hated him, if she thought he didn’t know that she would put him in chains if she could, if she thought he didn’t know how much she hated having to beg him for favours. He knew that she would never forget what he was.”

“I’m guessing her son didn’t get the job,” Twilight said.

“No, actually, he gave him a position; he was a weird guy in a lot of ways,” Rainbow answered. “The point is … like, take Ciel—”

“The point is wandering away from the point some more?” Midnight asked.

Rainbow glared at her.

“I’ll be quiet,” Midnight murmured.

“Thanks,” Rainbow muttered. She cleared her throat. “Ciel acts like the best Atlesian, the most Atlesian Atlesian who ever … anyway, you know what I mean; it’s so that nobody will know that she’s from Mantle, or even if they do know, they won’t judge her for it. And maybe it’ll work. She does Atlas very well, so she’s got a good chance, I think. And I guess that there have been times when I’ve tried to do that too, and maybe you preferred it when I did—”

“Rainbow—”

“Twilight, please,” Rainbow said softly. “Let me finish.”

“Of course,” Twilight murmured.

“Even if I could do that,” Rainbow went on. “Even if other people could forget that I was a faunus … I’m not sure anymore if I should. Twilight … you’re an Atlesian; you’re just an Atlesian, that’s your story, the story of how we rose up after the Great War and came back from defeat to become the greatest kingdom that Remnant had ever seen, a military power, a leader in technology, a shining light for the world to look to. That … that’s a great story, and that is my story too, because I’m an Atlesian, but it’s not my only story because I’m also a faunus, and so my story is also the story of slaves who took up arms to claim their freedom, who wouldn’t just let themselves be deported to Menagerie without a fight, who started from nothing and worked hard to build lives for themselves and better lives for their kids. It’s the story … it’s the story of my parents, of my dad struggling down in Low Town to support a family. It’s a story that I’ve ignored. I left my family behind, I watched them go off to Menagerie, I came to live with you, I turned my back on Low Town, and I acted as though I could just put it all away. But I can’t. I don’t have … it’s like Pyrrha’s ancestors, inspiring her to fight and live up to their example, almost like she’s obligated to them, well, maybe I’m obligated too, to go further than my ancestors, to fly higher, to do better, to build on what they worked so hard to leave me.”

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes. “Am I … am I making any sense with this at all?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, now that you’re talking about it, you make a lot of sense. At least, I think you do.”

“But,” Rainbow went on, “if it’s bothering you, I can try and tone it down.”

“No,” Twilight said, “no, I don’t … I don’t want to be the friend asking you if you can’t be less of a faunus sometimes, I would never do that, that … that’s not who I want to be. I suppose … I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” Rainbow assured her. “You won’t. You never will. No matter what else I am, I’m still an Atlesian. And I always will be.”

“Right. I shouldn’t have doubted that,” Twilight said. “So … we’re good, right?”

“Come on, Twilight, we’re always good, we’re better than good,” Rainbow replied. “You … you will always be a part of my story.”

Twilight chuckled. “And you’ll always be a part of mine.”

Rainbow smiled. “What’s going on now?”

“They’ve stopped to get coffee from one of those street vendor places.”

“Lucky them.”

“You know the new mass production models of the Paladin have a coffee machine included?”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. “They do? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Twilight said. “Apparently, you can also use it to boil water for instant soups and things like that. I think the intent is that the pilot never has to leave the cockpit for any reason.”

Rainbow frowned. “'For any reason'? But what—?”

“Yes, there’s a toilet as well; it’s under the seat.”

“That … okay,” Rainbow said. “Okay, but … lucky Paladin pilots, I guess.”

As fall was well under way, the air in Vale had grown colder even as the trees in the parks and planted along the thoroughfares had turned to red, amber, and gold, shedding their leaves upon the pavements and the grass. The air was cold, but the polythene cups were warm in Sunset’s hands as she took the last two cups offered by the guy in his little van and handed one of them to Amber.

“Tea, milk, no sugar,” she said, “here you go.”

“Thank you,” Amber said, smiling gently as she took the mug out of Sunset’s hands. She looked at the black plastic lid with a slight degree of suspicion, but was nevertheless able to work out without prompting that she ought to drink through the little hole in said lid. She sipped experimentally, managing to drip just a little bit down onto the pavement beneath her feet, and winced at the heat of it.

“It’ll cool down fast enough in this weather,” Sunset assured her, “and if you twist the lid around a little bit, it might not drip.”

Amber nodded and twisted the lid on top of the cup a little, although she did not drink from it.

“Thank you, sir,” Ruby said, to the man in the van who had just had to make nine drinks at once.

“Any time,” said the man, who probably didn’t make so much at once usually.

“And thank you for paying, Pyrrha,” Dove added, as the group resumed walking. “It was very generous of you.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Pyrrha assured him. “Nothing at all.”

Sunset got her scroll back out again, bringing up the map that would show them the way to the concert hall. Because she had the map, she led the way, with Ruby walking beside her, then Amber and Dove with Pyrrha and Jaune beside them, and Penny on the other side of Amber. Lyra and Bon Bon brought up the rear.

“So, Ruby,” Sunset asked as they walked down a street that was a little wider than some, wide enough that Pyrrha, Jaune, Amber, Dove, and Penny could all walk more or less side-by-side without either being too crammed together or blocking the way for other people. Autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet, breaking apart in some cases or turning into a mush that covered the ground. “Tell us more about this Percy person.”

Ruby looked up at her. “What do you want to know?”

“I’d kind of like to know why she was called the Swan Knight,” Sunset said.

“Because she could talk to swans,” Ruby answered. “The stories never use the word, but I think that must have been her semblance. Also, she wore a helmet with like swan’s wings on the side and had a black swan on a white field upon her shield, but I think that was just a continuation of the fact that she could talk to swans.”

“That doesn’t sound like the most useful semblance for a knight,” Penny pointed out.

Ruby looked back at her, grinning. “That’s what the Giant of Tar Mulber said before she sicced, like, fifty swans on him. He wasn’t laughing so much after that.”

“They are supposed to be able to break someone’s arm,” Jaune said. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

“There are swans in the ornamental ponds of the Imperial Gardens in Mistral,” Pyrrha said. “They look very beautiful, but people are supposed to keep their distance, especially when the swans have young.”

“'The Imperial Gardens,'” Sunset murmured. “I don’t think you showed us that when we were there.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “There wasn’t time to show you everything, especially with how we had to cut our visit short.”

“Why did you have to do that?” asked Amber. “Did something happen?”

There was a moment of slightly awkward, somewhat uncomfortable silence.

“Perhaps—” Sunset began.

“You see,” Pyrrha explained, “my mother did not approve of Jaune, or at the very least, she did not approve of him as my boyfriend, and so, when she saw that we were … growing closer,” — she slipped her hand around Jaune’s arm, holding him by the elbow — “she lied to Jaune to pretend that I was engaged to be married to another. When I found out what she’d done, I had to leave. I couldn’t stay in that house any longer. We all came back here to Beacon.”

“That sounds awful!” Amber cried. “How could anyone do such a thing?”

“Ozpin did, to Dove,” Lyra pointed out from the back.

“Professor Ozpin was driven by a little more than snobbery,” Sunset said.

“Although I wouldn’t be amazed if there was some of that,” Dove murmured. “Amber’s mother didn’t care for me very much.”

“Really?” Amber asked, looking at him with wide eyes. “You never told me that. Or … or did you tell me, and I … I don’t remember it.”

“No,” Dove said. “I didn’t want to turn you against your own mother, I didn’t want to give her any more reason to dislike me than she already had, as she would have done — with good reason — if I’d tried to drive a wedge between you. But, after I took you into my village and she caught the two of us together, she was very clear with me: I was not for you, nor you for me; you were meant for greater things than to be a crofter’s wife.”

“Oh, Dove,” Amber murmured. “I … I’m so sorry. She had no right, no right at all, to—”

“It’s fine,” Dove said, “it’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t fine.”

“It’s done,” Dove insisted. “And in the past, and … and anyway, it may have spurred me on a little because … because I told her that I meant to be more than a crofter myself; that’s when I told my mother that I was definitely going to Beacon.”

“You hadn’t made up your mind until then?” Ruby asked. “When was that?”

“I was sixteen,” Dove said, “and don’t get me wrong, I’d thought about it before; ever since I’d read the Song of Olivia, I’d thought about it; my grandfather had given me some training, and I picked up scraps here and there from huntsmen passing through the village; I persuaded one of them to test me and certify me as having equivalent skill to a combat school graduate … but I wasn’t certain. My … my mother didn’t really want me to come; she would have preferred me to stay home, become a tanner like her. I wanted to be … I wanted to be more than that, but I also didn’t want to disappoint her or make her worry, so … I was stuck. I couldn’t make my mind up. Until Amber’s mother talked to me like that. It made up my mind. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. I knew what I wanted to be. Someone worthy of Amber, in her eyes, and everyone else’s too.”

Amber smiled, and as she smiled, she wrapped one arm around his waist and pressed herself against him, closing her eyes.

“I don’t need you to be worthy,” she said, ever so softly. “I just need you to be mine.” She paused a moment, and then opened her eyes again. “Did your mother ever apologise for what she did?”

“Not in as many words,” Pyrrha murmured, “but she has changed her mind about Jaune, or at least, she has accepted that I am not going to change my mind and made her peace with it as best she can. I … I was willing to accept that. I didn’t really want to fight with her, as much as she might have deserved it.”

Amber nodded. “I don’t think I could have forgiven my mother, if I’d known what she did, what she said to Dove. I don’t think … why can’t they let us be happy?”

“Because they become so concerned with what they want, with what they’ve planned, that they forget that we have wants and needs of our own, and that those might be different from what they intended,” said Penny, quietly.

Amber looked at her. “You too, Penny?”

Penny’s smile was soft, and a little sad. “My father wanted me to be … a great hero for Atlas. He wanted me to be the greatest Atlesian soldier that there ever was. But I … I didn’t want that. I suppose that all I really want is to have friends, at least right now, people who like me for me, who care about me as myself, and not for what I could become or do or mean for Atlas.”

“Love, and be loved,” Amber said, her voice soft and gentle. “That’s all that really matters.”

“Well, maybe not all that matters,” Ruby said. “If everyone thought like that … we have obligations to one another, according to our…” She trailed off, as if she had been about to say ‘according to our abilities’ but had then remembered that Amber was forbidden from using her abilities by Professor Ozpin, a secrecy with which she was broadly in favour. Or maybe it had occurred to her that by that logic Penny should have stayed in Atlas.

“We can’t just ignore the people that we don’t love, is what I mean,” Ruby clarified. “That’s what it means to be huntresses and huntsmen after all: fighting for the people, even if we don’t know them, even if they’re strangers to us.”

“Like the knights who went forth at the king’s command, to fight for the lords and common folk far off,” Dove said, “in lands the knights had never been to before, places that were not even names on a map to them, but which needed aid nevertheless.”

“Exactly!” Ruby agreed enthusiastically. “We are the knights of the modern day.”

“But without a king,” Sunset murmured; although Ozpin came close to kingship, he lacked some of the essential qualities of monarchy, not least a crown or diadem, and the acknowledgement by realm and people of his regal dignity and temporal authority.

He lacked immortality as well, of course, but that was something even unicorn kings had managed without in the days of old.

“Or a castle,” Jaune added.

“Beacon is sort of a castle,” Penny replied.

“It’s not really, though, is it?” asked Lyra. “It doesn’t even have a wall.”

“What would it need a wall for?” Bon Bon asked.

“To be a castle.”

“Okay, but we don’t need a castle or a king or a court,” Ruby said. “So long as we have the spirit of those knights of old, to be sworn to valour and protect the helpless, like Olivia and Percy, Sagramor, Elyan, Leodegrace, and all the others. Apart from the bad ones.”

“I think … is there a story,” Amber began, “I don’t remember it very well, but … talk about swans reminded me, stirred something in my memory … isn’t there a knight or a princess who is turned into a swan?”

“Yes, that happened to Percy,” Ruby said. “after she failed in her quest to recover the Great Crown—”

“The Great Crown?” Sunset interrupted. “How was it better than all the other crowns?”

“This one is … I think it’s the crown from the Indecisive King, or at least, it’s supposed to be,” Ruby replied. “At least, I think it is. It’s never confirmed, but I’m pretty sure. It was lost, but in the time of King Edward, the wizard Osfred called for all the knights of Edward’s court to quest and seek it out.”

“Did they all get turned into animals?” asked Penny, a trifle anxiously.

“They didn’t all fail,” Ruby said, “although most of them did. But Elyan the Pure recovered the Crown, though they died delivering it into Osfred’s hands.”

“That must have been a hard battle, to wound them so,” Pyrrha said.

“No, they didn’t die of their wounds; they just died,” Dove said. “Like dropping dead.”

“I never liked that part of the story,” Ruby said.

“They had just completed their greatest quest,” Dove said. “What else would they have done?”

“Lived?” Sunset suggested.

“Yeah, I agree with Sunset on this,” Ruby said. “Think how many other battles they could have won, people they could have helped, if only they’d survived. But anyway, back to Percy, she actually saw the Crown, in the castle of Arthur, and if she’d only asked about it, then she would have gained the Crown and healed the master of the castle from his cursed wound. But she didn’t; she went to sleep, and when she woke up the next morning, the castle and the Crown were both gone. And so, Osfred cursed her foolishness and turned her into a swan, a curse that could only be broken by someone asking her who she was.”

“Who would ask a swan who they were?” asked Penny. “Except, perhaps, someone who could speak to swans.”

“That would be ironic,” Sunset agreed. “The one person who could break Percy’s curse was Percy herself.”

“But it was broken,” Ruby told them, “by Prince Tristan, the son of King Edward. She … served him, I guess would be a way of putting it, as a swan, and with the help of the other swans who still served her. She pulled his boat down the river into the Forever Fall, where he met Lady Elsa, and swore to serve her on condition that she not ask who he was, and when she eventually did ask, Percy pulled his boat away again. And in between, she spied for him, fished to feed him, fought with him as best she could; she really does absolutely all the work in Tristan’s stories. It's kind of ridiculous. Eventually, he realised that she wasn’t an ordinary swan and asked her name, and she was transformed back into a knight again.”

“And they fell in love,” Amber murmured contentedly. “At least, I think they did. I’m sure they did.”

“They did,” Ruby agreed, “but it was a cursed love, a forbidden one. Tristan was supposed to marry someone else, a princess chosen by his father, but unlike Edward and Olivia, Tristan and Percy weren’t able to put their feelings aside for the sake of duty. It … caused a lot of trouble.”

“Frankly, if what you say is true, I think that was the least she was owed,” Sunset said.

“For her, maybe,” Ruby said, “but the kingdom deserved better.”

A momentary silence fell, broken by Penny saying, “If you didn’t get the chance to see the Imperial Gardens the last time you were in Mistral, maybe we can see them when we’re all there next time?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said enthusiastically. “Yes, Penny, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Over the course of the day, they wore out their feet somewhat heading around Vale. They took in the great concert hall, which was more geometric in design than Sunset had been expecting but which was, nevertheless, an impressive sight, every bit as impressive as Amber had been led to believe by Professor Ozpin. And after that was seen, they took in some other notable Valish sights and monuments that Amber had been told of by the headmaster — some; with Vale being as large as it was, there was no way that they could see all of them, still less all of the city. Nor, Sunset though, would it be accurate to say that they showed Amber the Valish life, rather the Valish tourist experience currently being shared with the new arrivals descending on the city from Atlas and Mistral for the Vytal Festival: the extraordinary buildings, the parks, the scenic spots. That was not a criticism, mind you: Amber was, in many respects, a tourist here, even more than the Beacon students were tourists, for while they would be living here for a while longer, Amber would be gone soon, into whatever life awaited her after this. Why not, then, see the good parts of the city only, and leave the bad parts out of her imagination? Why not let her think that Vale was every bit and only as marvellous as Professor Ozpin had painted it for her?

Sunset continued to hope, though it was a somewhat diminished hope at this point, that it would give them something to talk about.

“Uncle Ozpin, Vale was just as wonderful as you said!”

I wish. I thought she might be open to seeing things his way, but now … she cannot bring herself to love him.

And I dare not push too hard.

At Amber’s request, they called in at an arts and crafts store, where Amber bought — or had bought for her, at least — drawing pencils of various sizes and levels of fine detail and some books of drawing paper.

“I used to love drawing,” Amber explained. “No colours, just black and white, but I could spend hours drawing the goat in the garden, the chickens feeding, the sheep in their little paddock. Mother would let me sit and draw her shearing the sheep for their wool, even though I probably should have been helping her. Sometimes, I would go out into the woods and draw the trees, how old and tangled they looked, the way their branches stretched out like arms. Or I’d draw the ruins in the woods, the remains of the walls, the statue in the chapel.” She smiled. “Or I’d draw Dove. Do you remember all the times I used to make you sit absolutely still so that I could capture you just the way I wanted? And you were so good; you never complained.”

“I did complain once,” Dove admitted. “When I was talking to you; I wasn’t looking at you for … some reason, I was asking you if you thought that I should go to Beacon or not, and I thought you were listening to me, and then I looked around, and you’d just been drawing me the entire time.”

Amber blinked, tilting her head a little to one side. “I … I don’t remember that.”

“No?” Dove asked. He paused for a moment, and then said, “I’m glad. I don’t think I really want you to remember me upset.”

“I can’t even imagine you upset,” Amber said.

“And that is the way that it will stay,” said Dove.

Amber looked around. “Do you mind if I draw all of you? You’re all so pretty, I’d love to have pictures of you. Pictures that were mine to … to take with me.”

“I would be flattered,” Pyrrha said.

“It’s fine by me,” Sunset said.

“Sure, if you want to,” Ruby agreed.

“I mean, I see myself as handsome, rather than pretty,” Jaune said, “but yeah, I don’t have a problem with it.”

“You’re pretty handsome,” Pyrrha said.

Ruby groaned. “Ugh, Pyrrha!”

“Oh, was it that bad?” asked Pyrrha.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, it kinda was.”

And they found time to go a weapons dealership, not a blacksmith's — there was no indication that the weapons were made anywhere on the premises — but a place where the windows were covered with wire so they couldn’t be easily broken into, a place with what looked like armoured shutters ready to descend over the door, a place where the well-lit interior was filled with swords and spears and guns lining every wall.

Amber did not look especially thrilled to be there; she shied away from the weapons somewhat and huddled closer to Dove, or to Pyrrha, or to Sunset herself, as though the weapons themselves might come alive and hurl themselves at her, gasping for her blood or her soul. She walked in with a slow, reluctant step, walking upon her toes, her heels barely touching the floor, glancing here and there, looking as though it would not take much to get her to bolt from the store.

Nevertheless, she went in, and however tentatively she moved, she did move, to the back of the store where there were a few different kinds of staves on display. They were fewer in number than the swords or the guns — or even a subsection of guns, like the pistols or the automatic rifles — but there were some there, from simple wooden sticks to a metal staff of shining steel that looked as though it collapsed in on itself.

Amber walked closer and closer to the staves on display, her mouth open a little, her eyes just a bit wider than normal. She glanced over the weapons on the wall.

“Now, the things you want to consider about your weapon,” Ruby said, “are first of all what kind of weapon, but then also how complex you want it to be, how much maintenance your willing to do on it, whether you want something that converts for a ranged option, are you going to use dust—?”

“This one,” Amber said, and as she spoke she reached out and laid one hand upon a simple wooden quarterstaff, a shaft of wood about six feet tall — a little taller than Amber herself, about of a height with Pyrrha or Jaune — that had been rounded and smoothed out by the plane and the lathe until there were no gnarls, no barky edges, no roughness to disturb the hand that held it — or, in fact, to make it harder to keep a grip on in the heat of battle. There was a slight crookedness near the tip of the staff, where the wood split up into four thick wooden fingers, like a crown, or the receptacle for a dust crystal of decent size.

“Well, don’t just pick the first one you see,” Ruby said. “You can consider your options; we could go somewhere else—”

“This one,” Amber repeated, her voice no less soft, no less quiet, but quite firm all the same. She closed fingers around the dark brown wood, and as her fingers closed, so did her eyes, her head descending forwards an inch or two as though she were speaking to the staff, or making communion with it.

“It’s made of wood from the Forever Fall,” she murmured.

“How does she know that?” asked Lyra quietly. Everyone ignored her.

Is it the magic of the Maidens that lets her hear its story so? Sunset, for her part, remembered Cinder telling her what ought to have been obvious, that the Forever Fall was a magical place, and all the trees within it touched by magic. That being so, and Amber also touched by autumn’s power, the two were suited for one another as if by fate.

“It has hoped for a gentle owner, who will use it only at need, and not for sport or pleasure, but only … only for safekeeping.” Amber kept her eyes closed as she lifted the staff off the wall. “Stand back, please.”

Everyone shuffled backwards, clearing some space on the shop floor as Amber, eyes still closed, retreated somewhat from the wall, until she had room to hold the staff before her, gripping it in both hands.

She turned to the right, the tip of the staff presented outwards, the butt in parallel with her lower legs. Then she began to move, advancing, swinging the staff in swift arcs, making circles with it, causing the air in the shop to whip sideways as she twirled her staff forcibly.

And as she moved, Amber was transformed before their eyes, the shaking, the trembling, the nervousness leaving her, all of Amber’s seeming weakness falling from her, and in her place, there was a woman who had been trained by Professor Ozpin himself, who had been blessed with a formidable tutor and the talent to take advantage of their skill and knowledge.

She was fast. She was faster than Jaune, faster than Sunset — the way that she was moving, she would have either knocked Soteria out of her hand or just gotten into Sunset’s guard before Sunset could react — and though Pyrrha would have given her a fight, it would have been just that: a fight. Sunset glanced at Pyrrha and could see her nodding approvingly, a smile playing upon her lips as she watched Amber strut and prance before their eyes, showing the skill that had lain dormant, hidden, the skill that Sunset would never have suspected had she not been into Amber’s memories. Lyra and Bon Bon watched with astonishment, eyes wide and mouths open, and Jaune, too, looked as though he could scarce comprehend it. Dove watched her intensely, but his expression was guarded and inscrutable. Ruby was bouncing up and down upon the balls of her feet, hands clenched into little fists.

Amber turned, whipping around on her toe, lashing out with her staff to strike an imaginary foe in the throat. She brought it down, straight down in a slashing stroke upon the crown, then upwards with the butt. Her movements were elegant, circular; they flowed into one another like water, putting Sunset somewhat in mind of Pyrrha’s style with the spear when she held it in two hands, minus, of course, any use of or reliance upon the tip. But it was similar in the way that there was no staccato to it, there was no stuttering succession of attacks, it was all one, like a woven tapestry, every motion, every strike, every assault blending together in a seamless story.

Doubtless, it would be different in a battle — real enemies would interrupt things somewhat — but as an ideal, as a thing to watch, it was quite, quite beautiful.

Amber came to a stop, her whole body shuddering as she opened her eyes.

“Whoo!” Lyra whooped. “Go Amber!”

“That was awesome!” Ruby cried.

“Don’t,” Amber said, her voice quiet but sharp at the same time. “Please don’t, I … I have done nothing to be applauded for here.” She let out a long breath, not quite a sigh in manner but close. “This one,” she repeated.

“As you wish,” Pyrrha said, taking a step forward. “We’ll get that one for you.” Her smile broadened. “You will need to give some thought to a name.”

Amber looked at her. “Forever Fall,” she said. “Its name is Forever Fall.”

A Quiet Place (New)

A Quiet Place

The farm was silent. Night was almost fallen, the last light of day lingering dimly upon the far horizon, the rays of the sun struggling to get up over the mountains. The chickens were nowhere to be seen; probably, they’d already gone inside their wooden coop to sleep, or to lay eggs, or to do one first and then the other. You could still see the goat, lazily chewing upon the grass, paying no attention to anyone or anything, his eyes looking towards the dying light, but was he even paying attention to that? Ruby couldn’t say.

“How’s this?” she asked, as Amber sat down on the wooden bench that sat beyond the chicken’s wire-fenced enclosure.

“Oh, this is perfect,” Amber said, laying her hands upon her knees. “Vale was lovely, absolutely delightful, but … but so crowded. So full of people, so full of sounds, even the skies were full. At times, especially after a day in a crowd, it’s good to be able to go somewhere quiet and peaceful.”

“This place is certainly quiet,” Ruby said.

“Whether it will stay that way with all of us around, I don’t know,” Sunset added.

Amber chuckled. “It will be alright, I’m sure, with you.”

Ruby sat down next to Amber, upon her right, while Dove sat down upon her left, one arm looped around her waist. There was only room for three people on the wooden bench, so Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny — Lyra and Bon Bon had gone back to their dorm room — had to either sit on the ground or stand up. None of them chose to stand up. Sunset sat down at Ruby’s feet, sideways on, her back to Amber — and also leaning on the side of the wooden bench for a little support, as her long hair spilled out behind her and into Ruby’s lap. Penny sat directly at Ruby’s feet, not quite leaning against them but getting pretty close, so close that Ruby was kind of amazed that Penny could balance herself like that. Pyrrha and Jaune sat down facing the same direction as everyone else, Pyrrha lifting her red sash up and draping it over her legs rather than letting it touch the grass beneath her, she and Jaune leaning against one another’s shoulders.

There wasn’t much to look at. In fact, there was nothing at all to look about, but it was certainly quiet, and it was certainly peaceful, and that was what Amber had said she wanted.

So as long as she wanted what she said she wanted, this place was pretty much perfect right now.

“I take it there are animals here during the day?” Amber asked.

Ruby nodded. “Chickens,” she said, “and, well, there’s still the goat.”

“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Yes, there is. It’s a pity there’s so little light left; he— is it a he or a she?”

“I haven’t checked,” Ruby admitted. “I think it’s a he.”

“Mmm,” Amber murmured. “He’d make a wonderful sketch subject, as still as he is, if only there was more light.”

A green glow intruded into the corner or Ruby’s vision as Sunset raised one hand up into the air. There was a soft snapping sound, and a ball of green light appeared over the goat, hovering above the creature as it looked up to stare at the sudden light above it.

“How’s that?”

Amber laughed. “That would be better,” she said, “and even better still if I worked in colour, but I don’t have my sketchbook or pencils with me. We left them in your room.”

“It’s your room as well, for as long as you’re with us,” Pyrrha reminded her, “and I could go and get them for you.”

“Or I could,” Ruby suggested. “I’m faster.”

“That’s very kind of you, both of you, all of you,” Amber said, “but there’s really no need. Drawing can wait until daylight.”

“Then you don’t need my light either, I suppose,” Sunset said. She raised her hand, holding it as though she was about to snap her fingers.

“No!” Amber said quickly, her voice rising a bit. “No,” she added, going quiet again. “Please, leave the light. I like it. I … I’m not too fond of the dark.”

Sunset lowered her hand again. “As you like,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” Amber whispered as the ball of green light that Sunset had cast spread out over the goat, across the grass, partway into the chicken pen, and touched the huntsmen and Amber like water lapping at their feet as the tide came in.

“You really do have the most versatile semblance,” Dove remarked. “It’s astonishing. How someone, just an ordinary person—”

“There’s nothing ordinary about me, Dove Bronzewing,” Sunset interrupted.

Dove ignored her and carried on regardless, “—can have a semblance that is even more versatile than the Schnees.”

“Versatile, yes, but I wouldn’t mind having their summoning on top of everything else,” Sunset replied. She paused for a moment, and her hair moved around on Ruby’s lap as Sunset shuffled a little bit where she sat beside her. She looked around, her back twisting, her hair flowing in the other direction. “But the truth is—”

“Sunset,” Ruby murmured, in case Sunset wanted a second to think about this, in case she wanted to reconsider telling Dove this secret.

Sunset did pause, long enough to sigh. “Now that Dove has been taken into our confidence,” she said, “he might as well know the rest. This isn’t actually my semblance. My semblance is the touch … telepathy, empathy mixture that I used to save Amber. This, and the energy attacks and the shield and everything else, that’s magic.”

“'Magic'?” Dove repeated. “So does that mean that you’re a Maiden too, like Amber? But then how come you can be here, where you could—?”

“No,” Sunset said, “no, I’m not a Maiden. I’m a maiden, as it were, but I am not a Maiden with a capital M. I can’t do what Amber can, and Amber can’t do what I can do. My magic is of a rather different sort.”

“What kind of difference?” Dove asked.

Sunset didn’t reply. “Well, when I said you might as well know the rest…”

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” Sunset said.

“Isn’t it?” responded Dove.

“No,” Sunset replied. “I mean, I suppose it is sort of, but it’s nothing for you to take offence at. I trust your love of Amber, I trust you to protect her, I trust you to follow where she goes, I trust you to stay by her side, but you are not dear to me, you don’t have the sort of claim upon my heart that would lead me to tell you all my secrets. I hope you can understand what I’m getting at when I say we’re not that close.”

Dove chuckled lightly. “I suppose, when you put it like that, how can I take offence? It’s just a fact, after all; we really aren’t that close. I suppose I should be honoured that you’ve told me as much as you have.”

“Don’t go overboard,” Sunset said. “It’s not that much of an honour.”

“Nevertheless…” Dove began, but didn’t really get to saying anything about it. “I suppose I shouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“No,” Sunset said. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Then it will not pass my lips,” Dove promised.

Sunset chuckled. “‘It will not pass my lips’,” she repeated. “It’s a pity you’ll be leaving soon; you’d fit right in with us.”

“What do you mean?” asked Amber.

“Antique manners,” Sunset explained. “The knight in shining armour thing.”

Amber laughed lightly. “Yes,” she whispered. “He’s very gallant, isn’t he?” She paused for a second. “Speaking of gallant men,” she said, “Jaune.” She drew out his name, like an extra-long ‘aw’ sound, like ‘Jawwwwwwwn’.

“Why does that sound make me think that I’m in trouble?” Jaune asked nervously.

“A little bird told me,” Amber said, “that you have never written Pyrrha a love song.”

“Is that bad?” asked Penny.

“I don’t think so,” Ruby added.

“Well, it certainly isn’t a good thing!” Amber declared. “How can you call yourself a gallant gentleman if you haven’t written anything to serenade your lady fair?”

“One who can’t write songs?” suggested Ruby.

“Yeah, I’m with Ruby on this one,” Sunset agreed. “It’s all very romantic and all, but some people just don’t have the talent for it. You have to have a special gift to be able to write songs; not everyone is born with it.”

“Hey! What makes you think I haven’t written Pyrrha a song?” Jaune demanded.

Nobody knew quite what to say to that, and a silence dropped on them, like a bucket of water or something.

Sunset was the first to speak, “Because we haven’t heard it?” she said, “and frankly, I don’t think you have the self-control to keep quiet about something like that. If you’d written her a love song, she’d be blushing enough to light up the whole dorm room. She’d be blushing bright enough for Amber to draw by right now.”

“Sadly, you might be right about that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Ruby told her. “I mean, it might be funny for us, but it would also be really cute.”

“Well … Pyrrha hasn’t heard it yet,” Jaune muttered.

“That rather defeats the object of writing her a love song then, doesn’t it?” Sunset asked.

“Is this going to be one of those situations where Jaune claims that he’s written a song when he hasn’t and then has to scramble around to write something before he has to play it for everyone?” asked Penny.

“You mean like a sitcom?” Ruby asked.

“It’s not a sitcom,” Jaune declared. “I really do have a song, I just … I guess I was too nervous to actually play it for Pyrrha.”

“I sympathise,” Dove said. “I was a nervous wreck. And I didn’t even play any instrument, and I don’t have a great voice either—”

“Then why did you try and write a song?” asked Penny.

Dove smiled. “Because I thought Amber would appreciate it,” he said. “She was always singing for me; I thought that … I thought it might be nice to return the favour. Even if I did expect that she’d beg me to stop as soon as I’d begun.”

“And did she?” asked Penny. “I mean, did you?”

“No,” Amber said. “No, of course not. Songs from the heart can never be bad.”

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Sunset murmured, “but musically debatable.”

“Jaune,” Dove said, “however bad you think it is, however afraid you might be about how Pyrrha will react … just remember that you can’t possibly do worse than me, because you can actually sing and play guitar, so just go for it. You’ve actually written the thing; why make it wasted time?”

“Because…” Jaune murmured. “Because … what if—?”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said gently, “do you really think that I’m the kind of person who would be unappreciative of something so heartfelt?”

Jaune laughed embarrassedly. “Well, when you put it like that,” he muttered, “I guess I have to play it for you now, don’t I?”

“For all of us,” Sunset said, “having whetted our curiosity.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary at all, not unless Jaune wishes it so.”

“Oh, come on!” Sunset cried. “At least sing us a few bars of it.”

“I’d like to hear it too,” Amber said, “but Pyrrha’s right; it ought to be for her, and her alone, at least at first. It’s her song, after all; Jaune wrote it for her, she should be the only audience.”

Ruby thought that wasn’t exactly why Pyrrha wanted to be the only one to hear it — it was as much about sparing Jaune any embarrassment, or so she thought — but Amber had a point, and a sweet point, and a point well made at the same time, so as much as she would have kind of liked to hear it too, she let it go.

“Thank you, Amber,” Pyrrha said. “Did you have a nice time today?”

“Yes, yes, I did,” Amber replied. “Yes, I really did. Vale … Vale was loud and crowded, and I’m glad to just have this moment to sit somewhere quiet, even it isn’t so quiet with us here—”

“As I said,” Sunset cut in.

“But Vale was … completely wonderful, too,” Amber said, sighing softly as she said it. “It’s just…”

“Just like Professor Ozpin said it would be?” asked Ruby, prompting Sunset to look around at Amber.

Amber frowned. “I … suppose so,” she muttered.

She really didn’t like him, did she? The same as Pyrrha. It was kind of funny really; Sunset had been ice cold on Professor Ozpin, then warmed up to him, but Pyrrha had gone cold on him now to balance it all out. Ruby … Ruby wasn’t surprised that Pyrrha had gone cold upon the headmaster, what he’d asked her to do … well, it would be enough to make anyone take a second look at someone, wouldn’t it? Especially kind of out of the blue like that, come down into this vault and do this thing that might kill you. It was more surprising to Ruby — a lot more surprising — that Sunset was still warmed up to him, for want of a better word. It was a little surprising that Pyrrha had started calling him ‘Ozpin’ like that — even when she didn’t like him, Sunset had called him ‘Professor Ozpin’; Ruby was surprised that Pyrrha had that much disrespect in her — but it was a whole lot more surprising that Sunset didn’t hate him for what he’d tried to do to Pyrrha.

There weren’t a lot of people who could do things to Pyrrha and not incur Sunset’s undying hatred in doing so; the only two people Ruby could think of who could get away with it were Professor Ozpin … and Cinder.

That probably wasn’t a list that Professor Ozpin would be flattered to know he was on, would it?

Mind you it showed … what did it show? Did Ruby even want to know what it showed? Did it show that Sunset trusted Professor Ozpin, or just that she thought he was evil but that that wasn’t a dealbreaker for her?

Probably the first one, given that she kept trying to get Amber to forgive him in ways that she never tried to get anyone to forgive Cinder.

Ruby wondered if Princess Celestia had anything to do with the way that Sunset didn’t seem to be down on Professor Ozpin for what he’d tried to do? She knew that Sunset had spoken with her old teacher, even if she didn’t know what they’d said to one another.

Sunset was very fond of comparing her situation with other peoples, as if it were the only way she could really relate to them; maybe she could forgive Professor Ozpin because she’d forgiven Princess Celestia, and thought Amber should do it for the same reason.

That … that might well be it.

Jaune, meanwhile, was as cold on Professor Ozpin as Pyrrha was.

Ruby could understand that, too.

As for herself … Professor Ozpin was trying to do the right thing. It wasn’t the nice thing, it wasn’t always a thing that they — Team SAPR, or anyone else for that matter — wanted, but it was the right thing. That wasn’t always easy, as Ruby had found out when Uncle Qrow had put the terrible choice to her, and so she had to respect Professor Ozpin’s ability to follow through with it.

He was… he was a strong man, Ruby didn’t think that that could be denied.

And Ruby did not envy him one little bit. She found herself very glad that she wasn’t in his position, deciding who had to die so that others could live.

She couldn’t imagine how he did it, day after day, and losing so many people along the way.

He must have numbed his heart, or he would never stop crying.

And the thought of that made Ruby feel a little bit like crying herself.

“Ruby?” Penny asked, breaking into Ruby’s thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah!” Ruby said quickly, and a bit too loudly. “Yeah, I’m fine, Penny. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” asked Amber. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I’m really okay; I was just thinking, that was all. Got carried away by them a little bit.”

“Ah, I see,” Amber murmured. “I suppose this place is conducive to thinking. Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Ruby replied. “Not a lot of people do, so it’s pretty quiet apart from the chickens. It’s … it’s kind of like a secret hiding place, almost, just one that everyone could find if they actually wanted to.”

Amber laughed. “Those are the best hiding places. The ones that people haven’t found, yet they might find, but the ones that people just don’t want to go to, well … they’ll never want to go there, will they?”

Ruby grinned. “Exactly.”

Amber glanced down at her lap. “Thank you all,” she said, “for a fantastic day today.”

“It isn’t over yet,” Penny pointed out. “We’re all still here, and the light is amazing at this time of day. Night. The light is amazing at night.”

“Sunset,” Sunset said. “Sunset is amazing.”

“We know you are,” Ruby said. “But what’s the light like?”

Sunset snorted. “That was…”

“It is nice to look at,” Amber agreed. “It is nice to be here, with you, at the end of a good day, in a place like this.” She leaned her head upon Dove’s shoulder. “I wish that things could stay this way forever.”

“What if they could?” asked Penny.

“I don’t think it works like that, Penny,” Sunset said.

“But why not?” Penny asked. “Why should Amber have to go anywhere she doesn’t want to? Why should she be forced to do … anything? What if … what if you wanted to stay here, with us?” she asked, looking at Amber now.

“It would be dangerous for her,” Ruby said, “to be somewhere she could be found.”

“It was dangerous today,” Penny pointed out, “but we protected her. It ought to be Amber’s choice, not Professor Ozpin’s or anyone else’s. If … it ought to be Amber’s choice.”

That … was hard to argue with. Ruby would go even further than that and say it was impossible to argue with. Yes, Amber was a Maiden, and that meant that she was in danger from Salem’s forces; you could even say it meant that she had responsibilities beyond what she wanted. But you could say the same about Penny, that she had been created by Atlas, that she owed them, that she had responsibilities towards them, to serve the kingdom, to fight for them.

Except that nobody — at least nobody sitting here — had actually said that, because that would have been stupid and wrong. Nobody owned Penny, she was a person, she had her own will, she had the right to her own choices, and she had made her choice, to stay here, at Beacon, with them.

Why should Amber be denied the same choice? Why should she have to go into exile, to live in the shadows, to crawl under the bed with only Dove for company and hope the monsters didn’t find her? Why should she have to do all of that if she didn’t want to? If she wanted to stay here, if she chose to stay here, knowing the risks and accepting them, then what right had they, or Professor Ozpin, or anyone else to say ‘no, you can’t, you have to go’?

Just because she was a Maiden didn’t make her Professor Ozpin’s slave, or his soldier; he couldn’t just give her orders and expect her to snap to it.

They — Ruby and the rest — were his soldiers, from a certain point of view, but … while spending her life defending Amber wasn’t the top of the list of things that Ruby wanted to do either with her life or as a huntress, at the same time, it wasn’t unworthy either. It was kind of like Prince Tristan, sworn to serve the Lady of the Forever Fall, only they wouldn’t up sticks and leave just because Amber asked their name. Being a hero wasn’t always about seeking the monsters out, as the stories made clear; sometimes, it was about protecting a specific someone in case the monsters came to them.

Sunset looked uncertain. She licked her lips. She opened her mouth, and Ruby, Ruby knew — by the look in her eye, by the slight clenching of her jaw, and simply by the fact that Sunset would put them all on leashes if she could convince herself it was for their own good … in a good way, or a fond way anyway — that she was going to object, to point out some problem, point out the danger, something.

“Sunset,” Ruby said, before Sunset could say anything, “either the principle matters, or it doesn’t.”

If Penny deserved to leave Atlas, if Leaf deserved to go to Atlas, then Amber deserved to stay here if that was her choice. Either you had the choice, or you didn’t.

Sunset’s mouth remained open, but no words emerged. She closed her mouth, and then opened it again to say, “Valid.”

Wow. Is this the first time I’ve ever won or the first time I’ve won so easily?

“What say you then, Amber?” Pyrrha asked gently. “If your will could have its way, what would you do?”

A bird cawed from somewhere in the night, a harsh cry like a raven or a crow, coming from somewhere Ruby could not see it.

“I…” Amber hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. My will can’t have its way.”

“Yes,” Penny said, “it can. Trust your friends and trust … trust that Professor Ozpin really does care about you and about doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t seem like he does. Trust them, and you can do anything you want to.”

Except that it isn’t about doing the right thing, is it? Ruby thought. It’s about being free to do the wrong thing. The right thing would be for Amber to hide and keep her half of the Maiden powers hidden.

She kept that thought to herself; it would only muddy things that were clear to everyone else right now.

Again, it took Amber a couple of seconds to say anything. “I…” She leaned on Dove. “I would like to spend more time with all of you. Some of you, I feel as though I know already; some you, I wish to know better. And I don’t want to hide somewhere, with no one but … Dove, I love you, I love you more than anything, but with just the two of us … what if you grow tired of me?”

“That will never happen,” Dove assured her. He sounded kind of amused as he went on, “But if you’re trying to say that you’d like some other company than just me, you can say so; I wouldn’t blame you if it were so.”

Amber chuckled softly. “I don’t want to hide,” she said again. “I want to see Mistral with Pyrrha, I want to see all of Vale, I want … I don’t want to hide, but … but I don’t think that I want to stay here either, with all of these weapons and all of you training to fight and kill and die, it…” She shuddered, her whole body trembling. “I don’t like it here,” she said. “I wish I were somewhere else. So, I suppose, the answer to what I want is … I don’t know.

“I just don’t know.”

Lyra plucked at the strings of her harp, her fingers nimbly dancing from one to the other, a soft and calming melody emerging as each string vibrated in turn.

“Once, like a dream,” Lyra crooned, eyes closed, her voice shifting up and down somewhat as the words emerged. She was on her feet, the better for her diaphragm, pacing up and down in her boots as she sang.

“Once, like a dream,” she repeated, “he looked at her.

“And everything felt new.” She stopped singing, the sound of the harp ceasing also as her fingers were stilled. “You know, for one of the great love songs, this gets awfully sad later on.”

“A lot of love songs are sad,” Bon Bon murmured from where she sat on her bed, not really looking at Lyra, rather looking at her own leg where it was crossed upon her other knee. “A lot of love stories, too.”

“I suppose so,” Lyra admitted, “but this one sounds like one of them’s died.”

Bon Bon looked up. “You think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“I haven’t studied the song,” Bon Bon replied.

Lyra began to play again, her fingers moving as swiftly and as nimbly as before, the sound emerging from the harp as sweetly as before. “Some people fall in love for life,

Others never get it right,

Love’s fickle when it calls.

One thing that I know for sure,

Longer than our lives endure. 'Longer than our lives endure,' if you please, now what’s that supposed to mean except that somebody’s died?”

Bon Bon shrugged. “You’re probably right,” she said in an even tone. “But so what? It’s a sad love song. Like I said, a lot of love songs and stories are sad.”

“But not this one,” Lyra declared. “Not Dove and Amber, their story has come back from the brink for a happy ending. No, I can’t play Forever Fall for them, even if it is one of the great Valish folk songs; it’s too miserable. I need something with a bit more … well, something with the promise of a happy ending would be a start, something fitting for their story.”

She turned away, her cape swishing about her as she resumed her pacing up and down in the dorm room.

“Their story isn’t over yet,” Bon Bon muttered.

Though she had spoken more to herself, it was her misfortune to have spoken the words aloud, and so for Lyra to have heard them too.

She turned to face Bon Bon, looking down on her, a slight glint in her gamboge eyes as she began to play again, a tune that was perhaps a little less melodic than before, but with a rhythm to it that made it sound well suited to the plucking of the harp, bouncing rapidly from note to note as Lyra’s fingers danced the strings.

“What’s the matter with you, my lass?

And where’s your dashing Lyra?

Them huntsman boys have picked her up,

And taken her far from me!”

Bon Bon looked up. “Huh?”

“What’s the matter?” Lyra repeated.

“Nothing,” Bon Bon said.

“I know that’s a lie,” Lyra answered. “Because if nothing was up, you would have answered that first verse with ‘and I wish they would’ or something like that.”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. “It, uh … it’s been a while since you last played that harp. Not since…”

Not since we lost Sky.

Lyra smiled out of one corner of her mouth. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Yeah, it … it felt … I mean, it’s stupid; I’m sure that if Sky were here, he wouldn’t have wanted us to go around being all grim and miserable for his sake—”

“A point you made to me, if I recall,” Bon Bon said softly.

“I … might have said something to that effect, yeah,” Lyra replied. “But all the same, it … well, I hope I was right about what I said, because otherwise, he’s going to be upset with me, but all the same, it … it didn’t feel right, you know.”

“He thought you had a great voice,” Bon Bon told her. “He thought you played really well.”

“I know,” Lyra murmured. “But all the same, it didn’t feel right. Or perhaps it didn’t feel right because he liked it so much. It felt … disrespectful. That’s why I put it away.”

“But not anymore,” Bon Bon pointed out.

“No,” Lyra agreed. “Not anymore. Hopefully … hopefully, Sky is okay with us … moving on. With finding some joy. Amber … and Dove … they’ve brought joy back into the world.”

Bon Bon couldn’t help but smile at that, if only a little. “Have they now?”

“Yes!” Lyra cried. “I mean, don’t you think so? Isn’t it … it’s like a miracle or something, she was … we all thought she was dead, let’s be honest about that; we couldn’t find her, nobody could tell us anything—”

“Nobody chose to tell us anything,” Bon Bon corrected her. “Or else they chose to lie.”

Lyra ignored that, ploughing on ahead regardless. “It seemed like she must have died on the way here. Died on the road, or else…”

“Or else she didn’t love him as much as he loved her,” Bon Bon supplied the thought that had crossed both their minds upon occasion when it came to contemplating Dove’s forlorn search for Amber and her apparent failure to meet him as she’d promised.

Lyra nodded. “I preferred to think she was dead, almost. Dead like the singer of Forever Fall.” She plucked at her harp. “But now she’s back! Well, not back because she was never actually dead, but now she’s here! She’s … she’s here! It’s—”

“The first good thing to happen to this team in a long time,” Bon Bon said.

“Exactly!” Lyra cried. “Sky … Sky’s gone, and he won’t come back, and there’s nothing that we can do about that but carry him in our hearts, but Dove … Dove gets to get it right. Dove has been blessed. Dove … it’s like some god has smiled upon him.”

“Let’s not go nuts,” Bon Bon said.

“She was in a coma for a year, and then she woke up,” Lyra said. “What do you call that, if not a miracle?” Again she began to pluck the strings. “In this big world, I’m lonely,

And I am but small,

The angels in heaven don’t care for me at all.

They’ve heard my heart breaking,

It rang through the skies. But when they heard Dove’s heart breaking, they cared. They cared, Bon Bon, and they did something about it! This … this is the best thing that … this is the best thing,” Lyra finished simply. “I just don’t get why you can be like … like this?”

Because I know what’s coming, Bon Bon thought. I know that Dove and Amber haven’t made it to happily ever after just yet.

Cinder was still out there, and Tempest Shadow was still in here, and Beacon was a target for both of them, and neither of them would care whose blood they had to spill in order to get what they wanted: a golden crown, hidden somewhere in the school, a golden crown to place upon the head of Doctor Watts’ unseen mistress, the guiding malice behind all things.

Sky was dead because of them. Because of her, because of Bon Bon, because of her foolishness, because of her weakness.

Because she had been — because she had allowed herself to be — involved in this, to be used, to be flattered, to be manipulated.

Because she had been too weak to do anything about it.

Because of that weakness, Sky was dead. Because of her weakness, there would always be an empty bed in Team BLBL’s room.

Because she had drawn them into this. Into a struggle they hadn’t been aware of.

While this battle was fought over Beacon, neither Dove nor Amber could be counted safe from it.

Bon Bon had been too much of a coward to do anything about that fact up until now; she had put Lyra at risk, she had put Dove at risk, she had told herself with weak and faltering conviction that she could protect them, but the truth was that was nonsense.

She could save no one. Not even herself.

All she could really have said in her own defence was that Lyra and Dove — and Sky too — had volunteered for this life and the risks that it entailed. But Amber … Amber was not a huntress. Amber was just Professor Ozpin’s niece; she hadn’t chosen to be involved in this. She had already suffered from a tangential connection to Professor Ozpin, attacked because she was his relative, but now…

Brought to Beacon to be safe, only to end up in far greater danger.

Lyra was right, this was a miracle. This was a happy story in a sea of darkness. This was hope incarnate. This was … this was something to believe in.

Team BLBL was not a good team. Dove was good, and Bon Bon was better than she let on, but Lyra was painfully below average, a far better singer than a huntress, and even with Dove’s help, they would never be heroes. They would never be great huntsmen, their names renowned. They would, at best, reach the level of painfully average.

But they could be happy. Dove, at least, could be happy, with Amber.

So long as nothing happened to them here at Beacon because of Cinder, or Tempest, or Bon Bon’s folly.

She was fairly sure that Team SAPR were on guard against Cinder, if they knew half as much as she thought they did, but Tempest … nobody knew about Tempest; Tempest was free to do as she liked. Tempest was making her plans.

I can’t let Dove and Amber get caught in the middle of this.

I’ll … I’ll go to Rainbow Dash, I’ll tell her everything, I’ll swear on the honour of a Canterlot Girl, she’ll believe me, we were at combat school together.

She’ll believe me when I tell her that I’ve betrayed them all.

I’ll tell her about Tempest, I’ll tell her everything.

And then … and then she’ll kill me, or lock me up.

Bon Bon felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she imagined the outrage, the fury in those magenta eyes, the hands at the end of those muscular arms balling into fists, and she realised with a chill that even the courage required to confess to Rainbow’s face would be beyond her.

I’ll leave her a message, and then run away before she hears it.

I’ll go to Vacuo and find some sand to crawl into and hide from Rainbow Dash and Doctor Watts, who isn’t likely to be very happy with me either.

She got up.

Lyra blinked. “Bon Bon?”

“I’m just stepping out for a bit,” Bon Bon said. “I just … need some air.”

Lyra frowned. “Seriously, what is with you?”

“I … I’m fine,” Bon Bon insisted.

“No,” Lyra said. “You’re not.”

Bon Bon hesitated. “No,” she admitted. “I’m not.” Because I’m never going to see you again. “But everything is going to be okay, including me; I just need to go out for a second.”

She walked to the door before Lyra could protest any more, throwing it open and striding through it. She walked quickly, down the corridors and the staircases, her pace quickening with every other step she took as she went from striding to power walking to almost marching at the double quick as though a snare drum’s rapid tattoo urged her on, until she was running, running as fast as she could, footsteps hammering on the floor as she burst out of the dorm room and into the night, running across the courtyard, running beneath the statue of the huntsman who seemed to glare down at her in disappointment, running, running, running until she came to the cliffs.

There was no one here. There was rarely anyone here. Sometimes students might come down here for private romantic rendezvous, but if she’d seen any of them tonight, Bon Bon would have gone somewhere else; there were other, only somewhat less secluded spots, but this was the most secluded.

Bon Bon’s hands trembled as she got out her scroll.

She … she didn’t really want to go.

But this was for the best, for Dove and for Amber.

All the same, she would delay the actual sending of the message, uploading it to the CCT and putting it on a delay to actually send to Rainbow Dash. That would give her a head start over the pursuit.

Assuming she wasn’t too pathetic to be worth pursuing.

She started recording.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said. “Hey.” She closed her eyes. “What I’m about to tell you is the truth. It might not seem true, but it is.

“I am a traitor. I’ve betrayed Lyra, and I’ve betrayed myself as a Canterlot Girl, and I’ve betrayed you and Trixie and Ditzy and Applejack and everyone else too. I’ve betrayed Lyra most of all.

“This year, and before this year, I’ve been working for a man named Doctor Arthur Watts. You don’t know him, but General Ironwood will know his name, I’m sure. And I’ve been working with Cinder Fall. Now I know you know who she is.

“I have no excuses. I don’t even have a sympathetic motivation for why I did what I did. I could say that I haven’t done much, and that would even be true, but I acted as though I was morally offended by Blake and her past even though I was as guilty as she was, I led my team to the Breach knowing what was coming, causing the death of Sky Lark, and I participated in the bombing of the Mistralian Embassy here in Vale and the murder of the Mistralian envoy Lord Kiro.

“And I did that alongside an Atlas student, Tempest Shadow of Team Tsunami. She’s involved with Doctor Watts as well; I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Trixie isn’t and that she doesn’t know anything about this, I’d stake my reputation on it if I had one, but Tempest absolutely is. She’s … Doctor Watts likes her better than me. I’m sure she knows where Cinder is. I don’t know that, but if you make Tempest talk, I’m sure you can snap her up as well.

“I’ve been a pretty rubbish villain, all things considered, which maybe isn’t too surprising, considering that … gods help me, I wanted to be you. I wanted Lyra to look at me the way Twilight looks at you, I wanted … I did whatever Doctor Watts asked of me because he seemed like he trusted me the way that General Ironwood trusts you. I wanted everything you had, and I was willing … I was willing to let people get hurt in order to get it.

“You might wonder why I’m telling you this now, and honestly, it’s because of a girl named Amber. Maybe you’ve met her; she’s tight with the Sapphires right now. She’s also Dove’s girlfriend. No, she’s more than his girlfriend, she’s … she’s his one true love, if that doesn’t sound too ridiculous. For some people, it would be ridiculous, but I can believe it of Dove because he’s … that kind of person.

“I don’t want to see them get hurt. They deserve their happy ending, and I won’t be a part of them not getting it.

“I wish I could tell you all about Cinder’s plans, but I don’t know what they are. I cut ties with Cinder after the Breach; my only contact is Tempest now, and she keeps things to herself. But Beacon still isn’t safe, although maybe it will be with Tempest out of the way.

“Take care of Lyra for me.”

She stopped the recording, and with a push of a button on her thumb, she uploaded it onto the CCT network. Unless she stopped it, the message would be sent to Rainbow Dash in twelve hours’ time.

Best catch an airship then, hadn’t I?

Nevertheless, Bon Bon stood still. She didn’t move. She was rooted to the spot like one of these trees that grew just behind the cliffs.

She really didn’t want to go.

But she didn’t really want to stick around at this point either.

Leaving was for the best for all concerned.

“Hello, Sweetie,” the voice of Tempest Shadow intruded upon her thoughts. “How lucky meeting you here. I was hoping to talk to you somewhere private.”

Bon Bon reminded herself that she wouldn’t have to put up with this for much longer as she turned around. Tempest stood a few feet away, bathed in moonlight, making her tall crest of hair seem to glow a little bit. Her tone had been playful, but there wasn’t a smile or even a smirk on her face.

Her eyes were hard and cold as they stared right at Bon Bon.

“What do you want?” Bon Bon asked.

“Brusque,” Tempest remarked. “Is something wrong?”

“Everyone keeps asking me that.”

“Maybe you should modify your behaviour so they stop,” Tempest suggested. She took a step forward, closer to Bon Bon. “You were with someone today, a girl named Amber.”

Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. What does Amber have to do with this?

Was it … was it Cinder who attacked her? But why? Because she’s Professor Ozpin’s niece, so what?

“I was,” she agreed. “What’s it to you?”

Tempest hesitated for a moment. “That girl,” she murmured. “She … she is important in all of this. She has … she has to die.”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. No. No, it can’t be. Not Amber, not Dove.

One thing that I know for sure,

Longer than our lives endure.

No.

“No,” she whispered. “No!”

“Yes,” Tempest insisted.

“She’s Dove’s girlfriend!” Bon Bon cried. “He loves her!”

“And that’s a pity,” Tempest said, “but nevertheless—”

Bon Bon hit her, punching her on the jaw hard enough to send Tempest’s head snapping around, to twist her shoulders and her body around besides, but her own fist got a bit of a shock as well; her aura flared as the blow landed as though she’d just tried to punch the cliff face behind them.

It was only with restraint and self-control that Bon Bon was able to stop herself from wincing or shaking her hand free.

Tempest was still for a few seconds, her body in that twisted unnatural position it had been in after that punch. She didn’t speak. She still didn’t speak as she gradually restored herself to a normal stance.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked.

“You,” Bon Bon growled, “are going to leave Amber alone.”

“I can’t do that,” Tempest replied, infuriatingly calmly. “Neither of us can.”

“Why not?” Bon Bon demanded. “What makes Professor Ozpin’s niece so important—”

“Is that what they told you?” Tempest asked. “Amber is so much more than that. She has … she has a power. A power that is the only way to get what we want. Cinder was supposed to take the power for herself, but — being Cinder — she bungled the job and only has some of the power.”

And I suppose that put Amber in a coma for more than a year, Bon Bon thought as everything started to make sense in her mind.

“When she dies,” Tempest went on.

“Amber is not dying,” Bon Bon declared. “Not by your hand or Cinder’s.”

Tempest’s eyebrows rose. “You seem to think you’re in some position to give orders,” she said.

Bon Bon permitted herself a smirk. It had all fallen into place in her head; she had it all worked out. “I’ve sent a message,” she said, holding up her scroll. “It’s already loaded up onto the CCT, and if I don’t stop it, it will be sent to Rainbow Dash, telling her everything about you, and Doctor Watts, and what we’ve done, and what you’re planning to do.”

Tempest’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’re bluffing.”

Bon Bon pressed her thumb against her scroll.

“Rainbow Dash,” Bon Bon’s recorded voice emerged from her scroll. “Hey.” She closed her eyes. “What I’m about to tell you is the truth. It might not seem true, but it is.

“I am a traitor. I’ve betrayed Lyra, and I’ve betrayed myself as a Canterlot Girl, and I’ve betrayed you and Trixie and Ditzy and Applejack and everyone else too. I’ve betrayed Lyra most of all.

“This year, and before this year, I’ve been working for a man named Doctor Arthur Watts. You don’t know him, but General Ironwood will know his name, I’m sure. And I’ve been working with Cinder Fall. Now I know you know who she is.”

Bon Bon thumbed the pause button. “Do you need me to continue?”

Tempest stared at her. Her eyes had widened a little. “Why?” she asked. “You didn’t even know that I was going to—”

“I was going to turn you in to protect Amber,” Bon Bon said.

“What makes you think Rainbow Dash will believe you?” Tempest demanded. “I’m an Atlas student, I wear the white, I’m part of the sorority of sisters—”

“You’re an outcast whose own team doesn’t like having you around,” Bon Bon replied. “You’re not part of any sisterhood. You might wear an Atlas uniform, but you might also find that going around acting so aloof and so superior has its consequences. What do you think is more likely: that Trixie is going to go to the mat for you with General Ironwood, or that she’ll say she always knew you were a bit of a strange one and all this is really no surprise? I’m a Canterlot Girl; Rainbow will trust me enough to act on this.”

Tempest was silent. The slight tremor of her arms showed that she thought — she feared — that Bon Bon might be right. Her hands clenched into fists.

Bon Bon took a step towards her. “Go ahead. Kill me.” She even deactivated her aura to make the job easier. “Snap my neck. If I’m dead, that’ll just lend credence to my account.”

Tempest took a step backwards, a scoff escaping from her mouth. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would you—?”

“For love,” Bon Bon said. “Because someone deserves to be happy. Because they deserve to be happy. They’re the ones who matter now. And so you are going to leave her be, you’re going to leave them both be, I don’t care what kind of powers she has, she’s going to stay safe, or everyone is going to find out what you really are. But so long as you stay away, then I’ll keep pushing delay on the sending of this message, and your secret will be safe.”

Tempest scowled. She bared her teeth. She snorted. She huffed. She muttered. “You’ve grown a backbone. I don’t like it. Doctor Watts—”

“I’m done with him, too,” Bon Bon said. “Just like you're done with Amber.”

This was … this was kind of perfect, honestly. Not for Amber, perhaps, except it was because Amber was going to be safe. Bon Bon would keep her safe, she would keep Tempest Shadow at bay, and she wouldn’t even have to go anywhere. She wouldn’t have to run away, she wouldn’t have to reveal herself to Dash, she wouldn’t have to leave Lyra. She wouldn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do.

And she could keep Amber and Dove safe. It was like having her cake and eating it too.

Tempest glowered at her but said nothing before she turned and stalked away.

She was impotent. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't get to Amber while Team Sapphire was guarding her, and she couldn’t do anything to try and get at Amber without Bon Bon exposing her, which meant that she would have to flee like Cinder and lose all chance of getting the prize hidden away at Beacon.

She was toothless. And Amber was safe.

Everything was going to be just fine from now on.

Blake’s scroll buzzed.

“Who is it?” asked Nora.

Blake got her scroll out. “It’s from Sun,” she announced to the dorm room, “letting me know that the qualification tournament went well.”

“So he got in, then?” Nora asked.

“I doubt he’d tell me that it went well if he didn’t,” Blake replied. She put her scroll back. “If he didn’t qualify, he’d probably be too busy looking for a place to hide from his irate teammates.”

Yang snorted. She was sat down upon her own bed; she paused in the act of taking off one of her boots. “You know, it’s funny,” she said, “but at the same time … it kind of isn’t. I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter since he’s ditching them again to go live in Mantle, but … he’s their team leader; it’s not a good thing that they seem to hate him.”

“Neptune doesn’t hate him,” Blake pointed out.

“That’s one; what about the other two?” Yang replied. “It’s no way to run a team. Or to expect a team to function properly.”

“You … aren’t wrong,” Blake admitted. “Although, as you say, it doesn’t much matter now. He’ll be leaving, and … and they…”

They’ll be carrying on with three members. Like Team YRBN or YRN or YR_N or however they end up referring to themselves or being referred to.

“Hey,” Nora said, vaulting over Ren’s bed — Ren’s protests went ignored — to close the distance between herself and Blake. “Hey, Yang wasn’t talking about you. You’re not our team leader, for one thing.” She grinned. “And for another thing, Yang and I are awesome enough that we can take care of ourselves and carry Ren without needing a fourth teammate.”

Ren harrumphed. “I don’t need to be carried by anyone.”

“You do a little bit,” Nora said, holding her thumb and forefinger close together to emphasise the smallness of what she was describing. “Sometimes, anyway.”

“Nora’s right,” Yang agreed. “We’re completely different from Team Sun.”

“Have we ever actually seen Team Sun in action?” asked Ren.

There was a pause for a moment while they thought about it.

“We know that one of their guys was the only one who got in real trouble during that issue in the forest last semester,” Nora pointed out. “That’s not good.”

“Mmm,” Blake murmured. “Do you think they’ll be okay without Sun?”

“Is Sun really that good that he can make a huge difference?” Nora asked.

“Sun is … good,” Blake said. “I…” She searched for a way to phrase it without maligning him or seeming disloyal. “He’s no Pyrrha or Yang, but he’d do well in some match-ups.” She glanced at Nora, and ventured the slightest smile. “I think he might give you some trouble with how fast he moves.”

Nora snorted. “Maybe he moves too fast for the hammer, but I don’t meet many who can move too fast for the grenades, honey.”

Blake’s smile twitched ever so slightly up further. “Is he ‘carry a whole team by himself’ good enough? No, but then, who is? Hardly anyone, if anyone at all. Is he good enough to make a difference? Yes, without a doubt.”

“So … what?” asked Yang. “Are you saying you don’t want him to go to Mantle?”

“No,” Blake said immediately, without a trace of hesitation. “No, if this is what he wants, if this is the course that he’s chosen, then I want him to do it, especially since the flight from Atlas is easily doable.” Her smile permitted a momentary show of teeth. “What I worry about is that if something were to happen to Neptune, then he’d blame himself if he found out.”

“And if it did, and if he did, then you’d be there to help him through it,” Yang told her. “Which is really all that you can do in the circumstances. You can’t make the rest of Sun’s team, or his old team, or his soon to be old team, you can’t make them drop out, you can’t whip them up a new teammate — although maybe they’ll get one anyway, from somewhere. All you can do is hope that Haven’s headmaster doesn’t put them in any unnecessary danger and, if anything happens, be there for Sun.”

She paused a moment. “You can’t stop people from feeling responsible, even when there’s nothing they can do. All you can really do is be there if you need it.”

Blake nodded. “You’re right. As so often.”

Yang grinned. “Hard won wisdom that I’m happy to share. Hey, tomorrow, do you guys want to see if we can get some sparring in before Last Shot? I’ll see if I can get Sapphire and Wisteria down there, and maybe some others too.”

“Sounds good,” Nora said, “but are Sapphire going to be okay, what with the new girl, Amber, and all?”

“She can watch,” Blake suggested. “Or Rosepetal can stay with her.”

“Or Rosepetal can stay with her, and they can all watch,” Yang said.

“Right,” Nora murmured. “That … I know she’s Professor Ozpin’s niece, but is this much security really necessary? Did Blake really have to help stalk her—?”

“It’s not stalking; it’s surveillance,” Blake corrected.

Nora shrugged. “The point is, why?”

“Amber has already been attacked once,” Ren pointed out softly. “And severely too, by the looks of it.”

“Yeah,” Nora admitted. “And that sucks for her, I get that, I’m sorry. But that … these things happen to people; it doesn’t mean she needs a permanent bodyguard.”

Yang frowned, but both she and Blake were spared having to answer Nora by a knock at the door.

Yang glanced towards it, then strode to said door, flinging the door open.

The door, thus opened, prevented Blake from seeing who was on the other side, but she did see — could hardly miss — the way that Yang stiffened up, the way she took half a step backwards, the way her back straightened.

“Good evening, Miss Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Is Miss Belladonna here?”

“Uh—”

“Yes,” Blake said, wondering slightly why Professor Goodwitch’s appearance had so surprised Yang as she went to join her at the door.

And then she saw that Professor Goodwitch was not alone on the other side of the doorway.

Blake’s ears pricked up. Her eyes widened. Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation as a single word passed her lips.

“Mom?”

Kali (Rewritten)

Kali

“Mom?”

Of all the people that Blake might have expected to see standing on the other side of this door, her mother was certainly not one of them. What was she doing here, in Vale, in Beacon? How had she known where and how to find Blake? What … what was she going to say to her, now that she had come?

Mom said nothing. Rather, she stepped forward, pushing the door open the rest of the way to give her space to enter — neither Yang nor Blake tried to hinder her in that, the former stepping back to give her the room — and enfolded Blake in her arms, drawing her in and holding her close.

“I’ve missed you, my little baby girl,” she whispered.

Her cheek rested against the side of Blake’s face; Blake could feel it there, warm against her own skin. She could feel her mother’s hair brushing against her, tickling the side of her nose just a little bit.

She could feel the strength in her mother’s arms as she held her, but she could feel the softness too; Mom wasn’t willing to let her go just yet, but it was not uncomfortable.

Far from it, in fact.

And Blake could hear her mother’s voice, hear the lack of anger in it, or disappointment. There was warmth there, and longing too, and a touch of sadness for which Blake supposed that she bore the largest share of responsibility, but there was no anger in it.

Blake relaxed into her mother’s embrace, resting her head upon her shoulder, tentatively raising her hands up to join them around Mom’s waist.

“I … I’ve missed you too, Mom,” she whispered.

Mom held onto her, not letting her go. Blake might have felt that it was going on for a little while, but, well, she’d been six years away; that was long enough that Mom deserved a nice, long hug if she wanted one.

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. “Yes, well, if that will be all, ma’am? I’m sure that Miss Belladonna can show you back to the docking pads when you’re ready to leave.”

That prompted Mom to relax her embrace, although she kept one arm upon Blake’s shoulder even as she turned away from her to face the professor.

“Yes, that will be fine,” she said, her mellow voice acquiring a touch of a more businesslike tone, if only for a moment. “Thank you, Miz Goodwitch.”

Professor Goodwitch nodded, or perhaps bowed her head — it lay somewhere in the space between the two. “Of course. I’m sure that Professor Ozpin would like to speak to you at some point while you’re in Vale, but, for now, I’ll leave you to catch up.”

She turned away, and walked away, the carpet of the hallway muffling her footsteps as she went.

There was a moment of silence.

“Nora, Ren,” Yang said, breaking said silence, although she kept her voice subdued while she did so. “We should go and take care of that … thing.”

“Yes!” Nora squawked. “Yes, that ol’ thing that we … need to take care of. We should totally do that now.”

Mom laughed apologetically. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to drive you out of your room. Please, stay, it’s alright.”

“No, ma’am, it’s fine,” Yang assured her, waving off her concerns with a flap of one hand. “You don’t want the three of us gawking at a moment like this.”

Mom smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Miss…” She glanced at Blake. “Blake? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“You only just got here,” Blake reminded her. “But yes: Mom, these are my teammates … my current teammates, Yang Xiao Long, Nora Valkyrie, and Lie Ren. They … they took me in after I had some trouble at school earlier this year. Everyone, this is Kali Belladonna, High Chieftainess of Menagerie … and my mother.”

Yang smiled. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.” She paused for a second. “And now we’ll give you two some privacy. Come on, guys.”

Blake retreated into the dorm room, drawing her mother — who still had a hand on Blake’s shoulder — with her, giving space for Yang, Ren, and Nora to shuffle out, glancing at Blake and murmuring polite nothings to her mother as they did so.

Blake heard Yang knocking on a door — presumably SAPR’s door, given the proximity — in the moment before the Team YRBN door shut behind them.

Leaving her alone, with her mother.

Her mother whom she hadn’t seen for nearly six years. Not since she and Dad had boarded the ship bound for Menagerie and Blake had not.

It had all been very well-choreographed, so much so and so conveniently that Blake had sometimes found herself wondering if the whole thing had been arranged by Sienna Khan. The White Fang had wanted her father gone, and frankly, so had their sympathisers outside the movement; they wanted him to make way for a new approach, for Sienna, who had studied the tactics of the great heroes of the liberation struggle, the strategies that would lead them to the promised land. And, by that time, Dad had wanted to go as well; he was tired, worn out by failure and by the waning of support for him within the movement. But, by the same token, there was no desire to humiliate him either, to defenestrate him into obscurity. As Sienna had taken over the leadership of the White Fang, she had paid Blake’s father a generous tribute, praising his eloquence, his dignity, and the energy with which he had inspired a mass movement. ‘When the histories of our struggle are written, Ghira Belladonna will be justly remembered as a titan of the movement,’ Sienna had said, before she began to turn the White Fang into the antithesis of everything Blake’s father stood for.

But what to do about her father? How to remove him without shame or admission of failure, and how to prevent him from lurking in the background, a king over the water, a magnet for discontent and a source of interventions that the new High Leader might find unhelpful?

And just like that, the High Chieftain of Menagerie had died. An old man, he had no heirs of his body, and so the people of Menagerie had acclaimed Ghira Belladonna as their new High Chieftain, an honour he had, of course, graciously accepted. And so it had gone, almost like a dance: the Belladonnas gone to Menagerie, Dad resigning the leadership of the White Fang with his dignity intact and going to Menagerie where he would be far removed from the activities of the White Fang and in no position to comment upon the new direction in which his successor was leading them.

Very convenient for all concerned, but not for the one Belladonna who had not wanted to go to Menagerie, to abandon the fight in the kingdoms of Remnant, the Belladonna who had believed in Sienna Khan, her plans, her tactics, her proposals.

The Belladonna who had wanted to see it through, and in so doing had been forced to choose between her parents and her ideals.

The ideals that she had … well, either she had betrayed the ideals, or the ideals had betrayed her. The truth probably lay somewhere in the middle between the two.

That had been the last time that she had seen her mother, when she stood on the pier and watched their ship sail away. Mom had been standing on the stern, looking back at her, or at least, Blake had thought that she had been looking back, but when Blake raised a hand to her, Mom had only turned away.

It had been Sienna Khan into whose shoulder she had cried, while Adam had stayed with her that night so that she didn’t have to be alone.

Whatever might be said about their goals, it could not be denied that they had used her kindly, and with gentleness.

I have no personal quarrel with either of them, or with most in the White Fang, only general arguments.

All of which thoughts were somewhat of a distraction from the present reality: her mother returned, with her, alone in this room.

She was alone with her mom for the first time in six years.

With her mom and a tied tongue.

She had no idea what to say. She had to say something, but … but what? What could she say that could scale the wall of six years separation, of the words said before they parted, of all that had happened to her since?

Mom’s hug had been warm, welcoming, perhaps that should have been an invitation to Blake to speak, but … but still, she could not find the words.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Mom suggested, picking up perhaps upon Blake’s hesitation and uncertainty; she’d always been very perceptive. “That window seat looks quite comfortable.”

She guided Blake to the window that neatly divided the dorm room in two, between the beds of Yang and Blake on one side and Nora and Ren on the other. The two of them sat down there, although the curtain was already drawn and there was no light coming in through the window, nevertheless, they sat, facing one another, sitting almost as if they were riding horses sidesaddle, legs skewed off to one side.

“So,” Mom said, “this is where you sleep?”

Blake nodded. “Yes,” she murmured. “This is it.”

Mom looked around. “It certainly looks comfortable,” she observed. “Although you don’t seem to have done much to personalise it.” She paused. “Is it at all awkward, sharing a room with a boy?”

“There’s a screen there,” Blake said, pointing out the presently folded-up green canvas room divider that sat between the beds of Ren and Nora. “At night, Ren unfolds it to separate himself from us girls.”

She thought for a moment about the fact that she had never seen any such thing in Team SAPR’s room when she had stayed there; it seemed strange to think that Yang or Nora might be more modest in such matters than Sunset, Pyrrha, or Ruby, but apparently, it was so.

“Ah,” mom said. “I see.”

The inessential smalltalk apparently exhausted, the silence returned, settling upon them with all the weight of the matters that lay between the two of them.

Blake looked down at her lap, and her hands which were balled up in her lap. “Are you … is Dad here too?”

“No,” Mom replied. “He had to stay behind; his duties on Menagerie demanded his attendance.”

“Right,” Blake murmured. “His duties, of course.” She hesitated. “Mom… what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”

“Not because you told me that you’d left the White Fang, or decided to train as a huntress, or that you were thinking about joining the Atlesians,” Mom said, her voice sharpening a little like a cat extending its claws. “I was surprised to get a letter from an Atlas student named Rainbow Dash—”

“Rainbow Dash!?” Blake squawked.

“She sent me a photograph of you and a girl whom her parents confirmed to be this same Rainbow Dash,” Mom went on, “and she told me that you’d left the White Fang, gone to Beacon, been exposed as having been a member of the White Fang, had it covered up by Vale and Atlas, worked with Atlas, were considering joining Atlas, and…” — Mom reached out, and took Blake’s hands in her own — “and you’d done some things that hurt you.” Mom paused for a moment. “Well … with all of that, how could I not come running?”

Blake was silent for a few moments longer. Rainbow Dash had written to her mother. Rainbow Dash had written to her mother? Rainbow Dash had written to her mother?

What right did she have to do any such thing? Who did she think she was, deciding what was best for Blake like that?

The same person who decides what’s best for all her other friends?

That doesn’t mean that she should do it to me; there are big differences between me and the likes of Pinkie or Fluttershy.

I’m going to kill her.

Blake looked into Mom’s eyes, the golden eyes that Blake had inherited from her, shining with desire to help her daughter, in spite of all the time that had gone by and everything that had passed between them.

Or I might thank her instead.

“I … I…” I don’t know where to start. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “You and Dad, you were right about the White Fang, about Sienna’s vision, about the violence; I … I should have listened to you, I had no right to—”

“Shhh,” Mom urged, “Shhh, it’s alright, Blake; there’s no need to go over all of that again. It’s all in the past now. Washed away by the sea.”

Blake looked away, looking at the red curtain that had been drawn across the window. “It’s not that simple,” she muttered.

“It can be,” Mom said, reaching up and taking Blake’s chin with one hand, turning Blake’s head so that she was looking at her mother once. “If we want it to be. I didn’t come here to fight with you about things that happened six years ago. I came here to see you now, my daughter, grown up to be a very beautiful young woman.” She grinned. “Obviously, you take after your mother that way.”

“Mom,” Blake said, a little laughter touching the edges of her voice as she pushed her mother’s hand away, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Mom chuckled. “There’s that smile I remember.” She waited a second. “You can tell me as much or as little as you like. There’s nothing that I need to know, but at the same time, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I wouldn’t like to know.”

Blake bowed her head a little. Once again, she was left with the problem of where to start. There was so much to tell, six years to tell, but … but at the same time, she didn’t really want to talk about those years with the White Fang, and in spite of what Mom had said, Blake thought it wasn’t unlikely that that was really what Mom wanted to hear in any case.

“I … I left the White Fang a little over a year ago,” Blake said. “I … it was all too much, it had gotten too much, the violence, Adam. It wasn’t about results, it wasn’t about making a point, it was just about killing, because we could, because we wanted revenge, it was about paying back the cruelty of men with even more cruelty. When I realised that, when I couldn’t deny it anymore … I left. I left the White Fang, I left Adam… I was in Vale already—”

“But you could have gone anywhere,” Mom said. “You could have come home.”

Menagerie is your home, not mine, Blake thought, but it would have sounded like a rebuke to have said so, and a rebuke was not merited.

“Could I have?” she asked instead.

“Yes!” Mom insisted, leaning forward. “Blake … there is no world in which we would not have welcomed you back with open arms.”

“Even—”

“You’re our daughter,” Mom declared. “There is nothing that you could say or do to ever change that, or change how much we love you.”

Blake glanced. “I … I love you too, Mom,” she whispered, “and I’m glad to hear you say that, really, I am, but … I didn’t go to Beacon just because I thought that I wouldn’t be welcome in Menagerie; I went to Beacon because I know how to fight. It’s one of the only things that I really know after five years with the White Fang. It’s something I can do. It’s something that I can do well, and just because I didn’t want to fight for the White Fang didn’t mean that I wanted to throw away Gambol Shroud and live in peace on Menagerie. I wanted to fight for something that was worth fighting for. And I found that in Atlas.”

“In Atlas?” Mom repeated, disbelief in her voice. “So it was true what Rainbow Dash said, you are considering it?”

“I’m more than considering it by now,” Blake admitted. “That letter is a bit out of date; I’ve turned in my transfer request already.”

“To Atlas?”

Blake laughed. “I am as surprised as you,” she said. “When I first came here, a year ago, if you’d told me that by the end of this year, I’d be leaving Beacon to go to Atlas instead, I would never have believed it. I mean … Atlas. And when Rainbow Dash and I first met, we hated one another. I thought she must hate herself and be ashamed of what she was to sell out her people that way, and she thought … well, the fact that she thought I was human didn’t make it easier for her to hear what I was saying.”

“'Human'?” Mom repeated. “Why did she—?”

“I was hiding my ears with a bow,” Blake explained. “I didn’t want to deal with being a faunus, even in Vale.”

Mom raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “So you could say there was an element of projection involved in accusing Rainbow Dash of being ashamed?”

“I wasn’t ashamed,” Blake insisted. “I just … I was afraid.”

“But not anymore,” Mom observed.

"Not anymore," Blake agreed.

She paused, wondering how much to say, and how much not to say. She could say nothing about Salem and the rest, nor would she have said anything about that even if she could, but of the rest? How much did her mom really want to hear?

Everything, she had said, but battles with the White Fang? Was that really what she had in mind?

Perhaps, or perhaps not, but either way, it was difficult to deny their importance.

"The White Fang, Adam, they allied with someone," Blake went on. "Someone named Cinder. She wanted to bring down Vale, with the help of the White Fang."

"'Bring it down'?" Mom repeated. "What do you mean? The obvious meaning worries me."

"The obvious meaning is unfortunately correct," Blake replied. "The White Fang stole dust, lots of dust from all over Vale. I … got involved in trying to stop them, and so did Rainbow Dash," — she decided to elide over the exact how of both Rainbow and herself getting involved in that; it was a part of their relationship Blake preferred to forget and not one she wanted to colour her mother's view of Rainbow — "and so did Rainbow's team, and some other friends of mine you'll have to meet at some point called Team Sapphire, and … a boy, named Sun."

"'A boy'?" Mom said. "You said that very suggestively."

"No, I didn't!"

"Are there no boys on Rainbow Dash's team?" Mom asked. "Or this Team Sapphire?"

"Well, there's Jaune—"

"Then what makes Sun worth singling out?" Mom asked.

Blake paused for a moment. And then a moment more.

"Okay," she said, "we have gone out—"

She was cut off by the squeal of delight passing from her mother's lips.

"Now, this is the kind of news a mother wants to hear! What's he like? Is he broody?"

"Definitely not."

"Thank God for that," Mom replied. "I was worried your taste in reading had carried over to real boys. But what do you mean by 'have'? Did something happen?"

"In a…" Blake trailed off. "I haven't deserved him, not really. I haven't been attentive, haven't been there, haven't … I've asked him to wait while I put myself first, and now…"

Mom waited expectantly for further words which did not come. "'And now'?"

"Now," Blake said, "now, I think, things will be easier. Sun has found something to drive him on; he's moving to Mantle to … how much do you know about the latest scandals involving the SDC?"

"There are always scandals involving the SDC," Mom said. "Since I've been politically conscious, they've never amounted to anything."

"This time could be different," Blake said. "But I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit. Cinder leaked the fact that I had been a member of the White Fang. She wanted to punish me for interfering in her operations—"

"What does she want?" asked Mom, "a human working with the White Fang? I'm astonished Sienna trusted her."

"This was Adam's decision, not Sienna's," Blake replied. "As for what she wants … there are those who understand her better than I do, but I doubt even they could adequately explain her motivations. It's enough to say that she desires destruction and that she's dangerous."

"And vindictive, it seems," Mom murmured.

Blake nodded. "After my past came to light, I was arrested, briefly. Which is … it's when the Atlesians helped me. When Rainbow helped me. She convinced General Ironwood to get me out of prison so that I could help them deal with the White Fang."

"Not a completely altruistic gesture, then," Mom observed.

"I guess not," Blake admitted, "but far from a strictly functional one."

"No?" Mom asked. "It seems to me as though they were just using you."

"If they were just using me, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to make me feel at home with them, comfortable with them," Blake responded, "and not just Rainbow Dash, but Twilight, Ciel, Trixie, Starlight, General Ironwood … none of them have treated me like an asset to make use of, but as … they've treated me like one of them. I'm not entirely sure why, but they did. They embraced me."

Mom frowned. "The White Fang embraced you once too," she murmured.

"No one from the White Fang wrote to you to let you know where I was or what I was doing," Blake responded.

Not even Ilia, who had always been ever so solicitous of Blake's wellbeing when they had been in Mistral together, had ever done that, but Rainbow had.

Mom nodded. "A good point, well made," she acknowledged. "What happened on those missions with Atlas? I know that something happened, Rainbow told me as much, although she didn't give specifics."

Blake frowned. "The … the White Fang, and Cinder, they tried to breach the defences of Vale and unleash grimm into the city. That's what the dust was for, a giant mine to blast through the defences."

"They really…" Mom trailed off. "My God, is that what the White Fang has come to? Have they really fallen so far?"

"I don't think Sienna would have approved, " Blake said. "At least, I hope she wouldn't have, but Adam…" It had come to the point where there was no avoiding it. "We stopped the attack, we repelled the grimm, but the White Fang … a lot of faunus died. Including Adam."

Her mother went very still, frozen in place, her grip on Blake tightening for a moment. "Adam? Adam's dead?"

Blake nodded. "I … I was there when Sunset..."

"You don't need to say it," Mom said, wrapping her arms around Blake again and drawing her in, turning Blake's head and resting it upon her breast. "My poor baby. I can't imagine what that must have been like."

"You're doing a very good job of pretending that you didn't hate him," Blake observed.

"What I felt about that boy doesn't matter right now," Mom said. "Only how you're feeling matters now."

Blake closed her eyes. "I don't blame myself anymore for what happened—"

"'Anymore'?"

"But that doesn't mean I don't regret his death," Blake went on. She pulled away from her mother, withdrawing so far that they could look at one another again. "I … I want a world where hurt and wounded people like Adam can receive help and sympathy, not be abandoned to sink further into bitterness and hate."

"A worthy ambition," Mom said softly. "And your road to making that dream come true lies through Atlas and its uniform?"

Blake paused for a moment, marshalling her thoughts like a general on a battlefield. "Dad resigned the leadership of the White Fang because peaceful protests, marches, and rallies weren't accomplishing anything. The authorities just ignored them. But the violence pursued hasn't accomplished anything either. Sienna said that those who ignored peaceful protest would listen to violence, but all they've done is fight back against it. So, with those options out, what remains? To work within the system, to rise within it, as high as we can, all the way to the top if possible. Then, when we are the authorities, we'll be impossible to ignore or refuse."

She paused, aware that that made her choice sound as cold-blooded and calculated as the Atlesian offer to keep her out of prison.

"And besides," she added. "I like them: the Atlesians, Dash, and all the rest of them. They have their faults, yes, as Atlas does: they're a little too pleased with themselves, their pride can sometimes stray into the ridiculous, but … with what they've built, I think they have the right to be a little proud. Their camaraderie, more than anything else, their togetherness, the bonds between them impress me and make me want to share in those same bonds, to enjoy the support of so many fighting alongside me, pushing. I can believe that I can do more in the Atlesian military than I ever could as a huntress, just as I believe there is a great well of righteousness in Atlas waiting to be unearthed from beneath the excesses of the Schnee Dust Company. And I believe that that unearthing may have already begun."

"Is this where we return to scandals in the SDC?" asked Mom.

Blake nodded. "The news doesn't seem to have reached Menagerie yet, but Rainbow and I uncovered a series of illicit facilities, operated by bad actors with the SDC; they … they were abducting faunus, to all intents and purposes, holding them as … slaves. We exposed this, Rainbow and I—"

"And nothing was done," Mom said.

"No," Blake countered. "Everything was done. The facilities have been shut down, those involved have been arrested, Mantle is on strike, the dust processing plants have fallen silent. A voice has cried out 'no more.' Everyone believes the SDC will have to yield and grant better terms and conditions to its workforce. And that's something we did, not the White Fang or Dad. I think … I think that proves I'm on the right path. And I'm on it with my friends. Even Sun—"

"Is he an Atlas student too?" asked Mom. "Or is he following you to Atlas for love?"

"Sun's going to Mantle," Blake replied. "Partly … for me, one of the signs I don't really deserve him—"

"In matters of the heart," Mom said, "deserving doesn't really come into it."

"Obviously," Blake replied. "Or else he would have dropped me by now. But it isn't just about me. It's about the people of Mantle, the people who are sometimes forgotten by Atlas amongst the clouds. The point is … it feels like everyone is on this journey with me, lifting me up on the wings of their belief, their confidence."

Mom was quiet, looking at her without speaking. "This … this isn't the life I would have chosen for you," she said, "but it is your choice, and, well, I can't really deny that it's a better choice than the White Fang. Are you certain that this is what you want to do? This is the life you want?"

Blake nodded. "I am. It is."

"You know that it won't be easy?"

"Is anything worthwhile ever easy?" asked Blake.

Mom smiled. "You have my looks, but in spirit, you take after your father: righteous and dedicated. I hope you fare better than he did." She paused. "If this is what you want, then … then what can I do but support you?"

Blake let out the breath she hadn't known that she was holding in. "Thanks, Mom, that … I didn't want things to be … like last time."

"Things are very different from last time," Mom assured her. "You're not a terrorist, for one thing."

Blake snorted. "Mom!"

"Well, it's true," Mom replied. "So, when do I get to meet Sun and Rainbow Dash? Ooh, how about right now?"

"'Right now'?" Blake gasped.

"I am here, after all."

"Sure, but you're going to be staying a little while, right?"

"Perhaps, but why wait?" Mom asked. Her eyes narrowed. "Unless there's something you don't want me to see or know about either of them?"

Blake would have welcomed the chance to give both of them a heads up about her mother's presence before they met her, but it seemed that would be a non-starter. Unless … yes, that might work, even if it would be a little rough on Rainbow Dash.

"Okay," she said. "You're right, since you're here…" She got up off the window seat. "Follow me."

"So, Penny," Rainbow began. She hesitated, because this was kind of a selfish request, but at the same time one that she was well within her rights to make, she thought. Nevertheless, she chose her words carefully. "Now that you're transferring to Beacon, how would you feel about … not going through to the one on ones of the Vytal Festival?"

It wasn't just Penny that looked at her. Ciel and Twilight looked at her too, their heads and gazes snapping up from the book and drone that they had been reading and tinkering with respectively.

Midnight's holographic form appeared from out of Twilight's scroll. "That didn't take you very long, did it?"

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean to take Penny's vacant slot, I presume," Midnight said.

"Yeah."

"Mmm," Midnight replied. "As I said, that didn't take you very long."

"That…" Rainbow looked away from Midnight and returned her attention to Penny. "It's just that the whole point of sending you all the way in the Vytal Festival was supposed to be to complete your testing for Atlesian service—"

"And to allow Doctor Polendina to bask in his achievement," Ciel added, "even if the rest of Remnant was unaware of the nature of said accomplishment."

"That too," Rainbow acknowledged. "But you're leaving Atlas, you're going to Beacon, so I don't see why we need to finish testing you—"

"So that Penny has a better idea of her strengths and weaknesses before she goes to Beacon," suggested Twilight.

"Do you think you need that, Penny?" Rainbow asked.

Penny said, "Is this … is this about punishing me for leaving?"

"No!" Rainbow said at once. "No, Penny, this isn't a punishment; this is—"

"This is about the fact that Rainbow really wants to compete in the finals," Twilight said.

"Yes, yes, it is," Rainbow declared. "Yes, it is, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I want this. I want to walk out onto that stage and represent Atlas and myself. I want to show what I've got. I've wanted that for years, since General Ironwood helped me get into combat school, since before then. I was willing to put all of that on hold for the good of the mission, and for your sake, but you don't want to represent Atlas. You want to leave, and that's fine, that's your choice, but I don't see why Atlas Academy shouldn't be represented by a student who actually wants to go to Atlas, and, you know, I don't see why I should have to be completely selfless about all this." She paused. "But, if you really want to fight in the finals, then that's fine. Take your chance. Show what you're made of."

"But you'd rather that I didn't," Penny replied.

Rainbow shrugged. "It's not up to me."

"But I don't think it should be up to me either," Penny said. She put down her scroll — she'd been reading about some more of those old Valish knights and the hunt for the crown that had seen one of them turned into a swan — and got to her feet. "I can't say that I don't like the way you've treated me like your mission, not your friend, and then turn around and say 'but it's your mission to send me through to the finals,' now, can I?"

"I mean, you could," Rainbow said. "If you wanted to."

"But I don't want to," said Penny. "I want … I do want to go through to the finals. I want to face Pyrrha, I want to see how much I can do, how far I can go—"

"Then—"

"But that only means as much as you wanting it for the same reasons," Penny said. "So, if we were friends and we both wanted to be the one from our team, how would we choose which of us went through?"

"Hmm," Rainbow mused. "Well, if neither of us were such good friends that one of us would get out of the way for the other, then—"

There was a knock at the door.

"Hold that thought for a second," Rainbow said, holding up one finger as she turned away from Penny and all the rest and strode to the door.

She opened it to find Blake standing on the other side.

Blake was not alone.

"Hey, Rainbow," Blake said. "I don't believe you've met my mom."

Rainbow opened her mouth and made a sort of choking sound out of her throat. Blake's mom? Blake's mother? Lady Kali Belladonna was here, standing right in front of her?

The Lady of Menagerie stood at pretty much exactly the same height as Blake, which was to say she was a little smaller than Rainbow Dash, although unlike her daughter, she carried herself in such a way as to make the height difference seem much less, if it existed at all. She looked … well, she looked a lot like Blake, to be honest; a few years down the line, for sure, but by the same token, ageing very well, she could have been taken for an older sister instead of a mother. She had the same golden eyes as Blake and the same jet black hair, although she wore it much shorter, down to the nape of her neck at the back without coming close to her shoulders, curling upwards at the tips to cut across her cheeks. Her skin was a little more tanned in colour than Blake's, but Rainbow was pretty sure that was more to do with there being more sun in Menagerie than anything else. Like Blake, she had black feline ears, but she had pierced them with gold earrings, two on one side and one on the other. She was dressed in a long white tunic-underskirt, visible through two slits at thigh-level on the black skirt she wore over it, and a white tunic with a silver trim at the plunging neckline. On both her arms, she wore long black arm warmers that extended up past her elbow on her left arm, the arm that Rainbow could see because she was also wearing a black snug with gold, leaf-patterned trim and one baggy sleeve covering most of her right arm. Around her left wrist, she wore a pair of solid-looking gold bracelets, and at the top of her arm warmer, she had a purple bandana tied around her arm.

There was a small, playful smile playing upon her lips as she took in Rainbow every bit as much as Rainbow was taking her in.

Rainbow felt her head spin. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to … etiquette. Etiquette. When meeting Mistralians … two years of this class and nothing on Menagerie?

Come on, it wasn't as if it was Vacuo!

Etiquette demanded a level of respect for foreign cultures — such as officers serving in Mistral bowing to Mistralian aristocrats — but it also said that this should only be done in Mistral, out of deference to the native culture, and not if they should happen to meet elsewhere.

That attitude didn't seem right in this case, with the Lady of Menagerie here.

Lacking any sense of what a Menagerite bow might look like, Rainbow used the old Mantle bow, which was never used in Atlas — who was there in the res publica to bow to? — but which was still taught as a kind of ornamental bauble — or maybe just in case of situations like this.

Rainbow dropped to one knee, hunching her back so she was practically doubled over, curling her right hand into a fist and placing it above her heart, bowing her head. A gesture of absolute obeisance, the gesture of someone who would obey their king in all things, even to the outlawing of art and expression.

"My lady," she said, "I am at your service."

Lady Belladonna had a laugh that was soft, like a shower that pitter-patters on the ground and refreshes without ever getting too uncomfortable. "Come, come, get up! There's no need for that, absolutely no need at all. I'm here as Blake's mother, here to speak to one of my daughter's friends, and it would be much easier if you would speak to me instead of the floor."

Rainbow hesitated for a moment, then, a little slowly — especially by her standards — she got up, retreating into the dorm room towards the back wall. "Would you like to come inside, ma'am?"

"I'd love to," said Lady Belladonna, squeezing past Blake to beat her daughter into the dorm room.

"Ten-hut!" Rainbow snapped.

Twilight scrambled to her feet, while Ciel by contrast made the move from sitting to standing at attention look easy, accomplishing the whole thing in a single motion that managed to look fluid even while possessing the required amount of snap. Penny had already been standing and, so, had a much easier task.

"At ease!" Rainbow yelled, and her teammates adopted the same stance as her, feet apart and hands clasped behind their backs.

"Is all this really necessary?" asked Lady Belladonna.

"Yes, ma'am," Rainbow said. "If we'd known you were coming, we'd have put on dress whites."

"Yeah, this is a surprise, isn't it?" Blake said. "Almost as much of a surprise as finding out that you had written to my mother."

For the first time, Rainbow caught the glint of irritation in Blake's golden eyes.

"I thought that she might write back," Rainbow offered.

"Oh, I'm far too much of a Curious Cat to send a letter when I could come and see my daughter," Lady Belladonna said. "Or talk to the author of the letter to me," she added with a smile, closing the distance between the two of them. "You look bigger than in your picture."

"Thank you, ma'am?" Rainbow ventured.

Lady Belladonna had gotten close enough that she could wrap her arms around Rainbow, pressing her body against that of the Atlas student for a second. "Thank you," she murmured, "for bringing me news of my daughter."

Rainbow felt her face heating up. "I, uh, it was nothing, ma'am."

"No," Lady Belladonna said. "To a mother, it was everything." She paused a moment. "I delivered the other letter to your parents; they confirmed that the girl in the photograph was their daughter, Rainbow Dash. And they kept the picture, just as you thought they might."

Rainbow swallowed. Her throat was dry. "How … how was it, ma'am?"

"Wet," Lady Belladonna said. She smiled. "And very endearing. You have very loving parents."

"Yes, ma'am, I…" Rainbow looked down at her feet.

"It's fine," Lady Belladonna assured her. "That's the wonderful thing about parental love: it's not conditional, and it doesn't run out."

Rainbow didn't know what to say to that, and so said nothing at all.

Blake came to her rescue. "Mom," she said, "let me introduce you to the other three members of Team Rosepetal: Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle. Ciel, Penny, Twilight, this is my mother, Kali Belladonna."

"An honour, ma'am," Ciel declared.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Twilight said.

"Yes, it's very nice to meet you," said Penny.

"The pleasure is all mine," Lady Belladonna. "You've obviously made quite an impression on Blake, and while I won't pretend I'm overjoyed at the idea of her joining Atlas, you all have my thanks for taking care of her."

"The lion's share of the credit in that belongs to our leader, ma'am," Ciel replied. "The rest of us have very little claim upon it."

"Mom," Blake said. "Is it okay if I leave you with the Rosepetals for a little bit and then bring Sun over here?"

Lady Belladonna's eyes narrowed a little, but her voice was pleasant as she said, "Of course, dear, if that's what you think best and your friends don't mind keeping me company."

"Not at all, ma'am," Rainbow said.

"Thanks," Blake said. "I'll be back … soon."

"Take as long as you need," Lady Belladonna said to her as Blake left the room

The door closed after her.

"Is there something about her boyfriend that she doesn't want me to see?" Lady Belladonna asked. "Is he fake, and she needs to get her story straight with an impersonator?"

"If that were the case, I'm afraid we wouldn't snitch on her, ma'am," Rainbow said, "but it isn't. He's real."

"So, you wouldn't tell me if she were lying, but I should trust you that she's telling the truth?"

"Yes, ma'am. Or you could just trust Blake."

Lady Belladonna laughed. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I could, couldn't I?"

"Would you care for some tea, ma'am?" asked Ciel.

"That sounds delightful, thank you," replied Lady Belladonna, "but you don't have to keep calling me 'ma'am."

"I'm afraid we do, ma'am," said Ciel. "Anything else, I fear, would be most improper."

She started towards the door, crossing the distance on a series of swift, martial, almost marching strides. She opened the door but stepped only halfway through it before she turned back to Lady Belladonna.

"I must confess that I had doubts about Blake at first, ma'am," Ciel said. "Doubts about her suitability, her attitude. But she really has done splendidly well, and I would be remiss not to say that we are very lucky to have her."

Lady Belladonna chuckled. "That is not something I need to be told."

"No," Ciel murmured. "I will be back shortly, ma'am."

She closed the door behind her and walked so lightly in the corridor beyond that she could not be heard outside.

"I … I should probably take the chance to thank you, ma'am," Rainbow said. "Without you, my parents, and my friend Gilda's parents, they would never have made it to Menagerie. I owe you a lot for what you've done to help folks like them relocate."

Lady Belladonna shook her head. "Paid in full," she replied. "Not even thanks necessary."

"If you say so, ma'am," Rainbow said. "Ma'am, about Blake joining Atlas—"

"Why do you?"

Rainbow's words stuttered to a halt. "Ma'am?"

"Why do you fight for Atlas, wear that uniform?" asked Lady Belladonna. "Your parents moved to Menagerie, but—"

"I stayed, yes, ma'am," Rainbow replied. "And I'm proud to wear this uniform."

"Why?" asked Lady Belladonna.

Rainbow glanced at Twilight. "Because it's where my home is, and my heart too. Because Atlas has been good to me, and I owe it to return the favour. Because there are people I love that I can't abandon." She smiled. "You know, ma'am, Blake couldn't understand it either, but I got a ton of reasons to go through spanning half my life if you've got time to listen to them all."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," said Lady Belladonna. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. You grew up in Mantle?"

"Low Town, ma'am."

"Ah, yes, the crater. I knew you couldn't be from Atlas proper, or your parents wouldn't have needed my help to go to Menagerie. If they'd even wanted to."

"Rainbow has spent a lot of time on Atlas," Twilight declared. "She lived with me for a while before we went to combat school."

Lady Belladonna's eyebrows rose a little. "Really? And how did that happen, may I ask?"

"Do you have to, ma'am?" Rainbow asked. "I don't see what the point of these questions is."

"You're right, that was prying, forgive me," Lady Belladonna. "But I'm curious as to who is leading my daughter to Atlas. You can understand that, surely?"

"The most loyal friend that Blake could ask for," Twilight said. "That's who's leading Blake to Atlas, ma'am."

"Rainbow Dash has always gone the extra mile to help Blake," Penny added.

"Your friends think highly of you," Lady Belladonna remarked.

"It humbles me, ma'am," Rainbow murmured, her shoulders sloping downwards.

Lady Belladonna paused a moment. "I notice that you didn't say anything about serving Atlas to help the faunus."

"No, ma'am, I didn't, but that doesn't mean … one of the ways that Blake has changed me is by making me more aware of what it means to a faunus, to be part of this struggle, for want of a better word. Which is ironic because I'm pretty sure Blake has become less concerned with helping the faunus and more concerned with helping everyone, but anyway … it would be great to rise high enough that I had the power to make a difference, but the truth is that even if I knew now that I was never going to make corporal, I would still want to wear this uniform because I'm not in this for myself. I might have done the best I can on my own for Atlas by giving it Blake, but even if that's true, I'm still proud to be a part of something so much bigger than myself. I'm proud to have something bigger than myself to believe in. Because … because Atlas is home, at the end of the day, or at least it's home to the people who are home to me. If I'm going to fight, then where should I fight instead?" She grinned. "I mean, how many reasons do I need?"

Lady Belladonna smiled. "Fewer than you have, I'm sure. And this latest business with the SDC doesn't change your mind?"

"We brought that home to roost, ma'am," Rainbow said. "If anything, I think that proves we're on the right track, Blake and I; we've gotten things done that no one else has."

Lady Belladonna nodded. "I suppose you have," she admitted. She paused a moment. "That picture you sent me made you and Blake look like very good friends."

"I know Blake would take a bullet for me, ma'am, no hesitation."

"And would you take a bullet for her?" asked Lady Belladonna.

"If I had to, but I'd rather take out the bad guy before they got a shot off if I could, ma'am," Rainbow replied.

Lady Belladonna smiled a particularly catlike smile. "And that, Rainbow Dash, is a good answer."

Sun whistled. "So," he said, "your mom, huh?"

"Mmm," Blake muttered as the two of them walked down the corridor in the direction of the RSPT dorm room. Sun was holding onto her arm with both hands and leaning against her a little. It was … kind of nice.

Rather nice, in fact.

"My mom," she confirmed. "I'm sorry to spring this on you at such short notice. It was sprung on me at short notice too."

"Ah, it's fine, don't worry about it. These things happen," Sun declared. "I mean, who hasn't had their estranged mother show up out of the blue from another continent for a surprise visit after your best friend wrote them a secret letter without telling you?"

Blake looked at him.

"Okay, maybe that exact thing doesn't happen to everyone," Sun conceded. "But, you know, stuff happens, stuff comes up, you just gotta roll with the punches. Be like water."

"You're taking this very well," Blake observed a little sceptically.

"It could be worse," Sun replied. "It could be your old man here."

"Yes, yes, that would be worse," Blake allowed. "But even so—"

"The way I see it, this is an opportunity for me," Sun said. "I can win your mom over with the old charm." He winked.

Blake laughed softly. "Well, it worked on me," she said. "Hopefully, it won't work on Mom in quite the same way, but…" She trailed off.

"Is everything okay?" Sun asked.

"I just wish I could prepare you better for this," Blake murmured. "But I'm not sure how Mom is going to react to you. She seemed more enthusiastic about you than she did about anything else, like me going to Atlas—"

"Well, that's good, right?"

"If it stays that way then sure, but what if…" Blake sighed. "You have already put up with so much from me, the last thing I want, the last thing you deserve, is to face a grilling from my mom."

"Your mom can grill me all she wants; I only cook at extremely high temperatures," Sun assured her. He spun Blake around so she was facing him as he took both of her hands in his. "I am certain that your mom is going to like me, because in case you hadn't noticed, I am very, very likeable."

"It's come to my attention."

"But if she doesn't, then so what? I love you, not your mom. This time next year, you'll be in Atlas, I'll be in Mantle, and your mom will be back in Menagerie, and we won't be able to hear her talk about how I don't deserve you. This … it doesn't have to change anything, unless you want it to."

"No," Blake said firmly. "No, I don't. But, I also don't want to patch things up with Mom only to fall out with her again, so … let's call that Plan B."

"Where Plan A is the charm offensive," Sun said. "Got it."

Blake smiled up at him. "Right." She reached up and stroked his face with one hand, running her fingertips against skin weathered by the sun and hardened by the sand.

"I really don't deserve you," she murmured as her fingertips reached his hair.

"Well, too bad," Sun said, grabbing her hand and pulling it away so that he could kiss it. "You're stuck with me. So, any advice?"

"I haven't seen Mom in six years," Blake said. "I'm afraid that anything I could tell you would be pretty out of date."

"Into the unknown, got it," Sun said. "Which, you know, that's fine. I love surprises."

Blake patted him reassuringly on one shoulder as the two of them reached the door to the RSPT dorm.

The two of them stood, side by side, facing the door with neither giving any indication of their intent to knock on it.

"Should I have worn a tie?" asked Sun suddenly. "I feel like I should have borrowed a tie from Neptune—"

"Definitely not; my mom would have smelled the insincerity," Blake said. "Just be yourself, your loveable self."

"'Loveable,'" Sun repeated, "got it."

But there was no getting around it any longer.

Blake knocked on the door.

It was opened by Ciel. "Hello again," she said. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Um, okay," Blake said.

Ciel nodded, and stepped aside to admit them — back or otherwise — into the room.

Mom was sitting on the floor, scratching Spike on the belly idly with one hand, while a cup of tea sat on a coaster on the carpet nearby.

She looked up as Blake and Sun came in. "Ah, you're back," she said. "And you must be Sun." Her eyes travelled up and down him, seeming to pay particular attention to his bare chest. "Well, I can certainly see what Blake sees in you."

"Mom!" Blake groaned.

Sun laughed, although his laughter had a bit of nervousness to it as though he wasn't really sure whether he ought to be laughing. "Uh, thanks, Mrs B. Yeah, I'm Sun, Sun Wukong. It's great to meet you. You raised an awesome daughter!"

The smile froze upon her mother's face. "Well," she said quietly, "I didn't do all of the raising, did I?"

Sun squirmed. "I mean … the first twelve years?"

Mom remained quiet for a few seconds, before her eyes lit up once more, and her smile returned, seeming even brighter now.

"So," she said, "your Blake's boyfriend? I understand that she hasn't always treated you very well—"

"Mom."

"I'm sorry about that; Blake has always had trouble remembering other people's feelings."

"Mom!" Blake squawked. The fact that her mother was … not entirely wrong didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Nah, it's nothing like that; you're way too hard on Blake," Sun replied, waving away Mom's criticism with one hand. "She knows what she wants, and she goes for it. There's nothing wrong with that; in fact…"

Mom's eyebrows rose. "'In fact'?"

Sun looked down for a second. "Well, one of the things that makes Blake so cool is her passion and commitment," Sun said, starting off quietly, almost mumbling. "She stands up for what's right, and she doesn't let anything stand in her way. I … I've always been a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, letting things carry me along, just going where life took me, so … so when I see Blake facing up to all these obstacles, like when she sees a mountain coming towards her, and she thinks about how she can climb it, not how she can get out of the way, that … it awes me a little bit, and it inspires me, and I wouldn't ask her to change that just so that … just for me."

Blake slipped one hand into his and squeezed it gently.

Mom looked at her, one eyebrow slightly rising, the look on her face turning from smile to smirk.

Blake rolled her eyes. Yes, Mom, she was very lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

"So," Mom went on. "Where are you from, Sun? Or where are you from, son? Or where are you from, son Sun?"

"Vacuo," Sun said. "But I go to school at Haven for now?"

"'For now,'" Mom repeated. "Yes, you're becoming a delinquent, aren't you?"

"I'm going to help people," Sun said. "Instead of waiting another three years to—"

"Get qualified?"

"Do what I already know how to do right now," Sun said.

"In Mantle?"

Sun nodded. "That's right. In Mantle."

"But why?" asked Mom. "Why Mantle?"

"I … I guess I've been inspired to find a cause," Sun said. "I know I'm not the kind of guy who can change the world, but I can stand up for the little guy who might get forgotten otherwise. I … I've been lucky, growing up in Vacuo, not having to deal with what faunus have to put up with in a lot of other places. I can't make it so that faunus in Mantle don't have to put up with it, but I can … I can make things easier for them. Or at least, I hope I can." He smiled. "Plus, you know, it's a lot closer to Blake than Haven is. That's certainly a reason not to stay in Mistral."

"Well, quite," Mom purred, yes, purred. "And if you have the patience to deal with Blake, I'm sure you'll survive in Mantle, too."

"Mom!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Mom said. "But seriously: thank you all for putting up with my daughter."

"MOM!"

Lady Belladonna had missed the last skybus flight from Beacon into Vale, so Rainbow flew her down in The Bus.

To be honest, even if Lady Belladonna hadn't missed the last skybus, Rainbow would still have flown her back in The Bus.

"You sure I can't drop you off right outside your hotel, ma'am?" Rainbow asked.

Lady Belladonna's voice was warm as she said, "Thank you, Rainbow, but no; the skydock will be fine."

"Then I'll have to insist on walking you to the hotel, ma'am," Rainbow replied. "I've heard there's a lot of anti-faunus feeling going around; I don't think you should be walking around a strange city in the dark alone."

"Your friend is very solicitous," Lady Belladonna observed to Blake. Lady Belladonna sat in the co-pilot's seat, claiming it was more comfortable than any seat in the back, while Blake stood behind her, both hands upon the back of her mother's chair.

"She's very protective," Blake replied.

"I care about the people I … care about," Rainbow said. "I make no apologies for that."

"And I wouldn't ask you to," said Lady Belladonna. "It's a dangerous world, after all. But you say that you've heard about anti-faunus sentiment?"

"I haven't been down to Vale recently myself," Rainbow admitted, "but I've heard about it from people I trust."

"Sun's experienced it," Blake added.

"I see," murmured Lady Belladonna. "I suppose this is to do with the White Fang attacks."

"That's their excuse, but that's all it is," Blake declared. "People feeling free to say what they were always thinking."

"I hope not," Rainbow said. "Or else … I hope they weren't all thinking that; I'd rather … I'd prefer if it really was the Breach and the White Fang."

"What would the Breach or the White Fang have to do with telling Sun to go home?" asked Blake.

"In my experience, you're both correct," said Lady Belladonna. "There are those who jump at the chance to legitimise awful views they has always held, but there also those who … had no great feeling for the faunus and recoiled from any overt racism but were susceptible to the course of events and the tide of public turning their concerns about safety into concerns about the faunus in general. What 's happening to the faunus in Vale, have there been any incidents?"

"Nothing big enough to be newsworthy," Blake said, "but that doesn't mean there haven't been any."

"Quite," murmured Lady Belladonna. "Thank you for bringing this up, Rainbow Dash."

"Uh, you’re welcome, ma'am."

Lady Belladonna was quiet a few seconds before she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"You've asked me a fair bit already, ma'am; why stop now?"

Lady Belladonna laughed. "A good point." She paused. "Why did you write to me without talking it over with Blake?"

"I'd like to know that too," Blake huffed.

"Don't be like that; it's worked out okay," Rainbow replied.

She paused, shifting her posture in the pilot's seat, rubbing her back upon the back of the chair. With The Bus on autopilot for now, she looked at both of them.

"Hearing Blake talk about you, and about her father … it made me think about my own parents, and about the way I treated them," Rainbow admitted.

"You don't write to them very often, do you?" Lady Belladonna said.

"No, ma'am," Rainbow replied shamefacedly. "I … The point is that I wanted to apologise to my dad, and I knew that Blake wanted to apologise to her parents as well, only she was too worried about how you'd react." She shrugged. "So I decided to do it for her, because I thought it would do her good to hear from you, like I put in my letter."

Lady Belladonna smiled and kept her eyes on Rainbow Dash as she reached up to take one of Blake's hands. "Well, I'd say it all worked out pretty well. Wouldn't you agree, Blake?"

Blake snorted, but there was a fond smile upon her face as she said, "Yes, Mom, yes, I would.

"Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter got an almost complete rewrite, which ended up adding in a lot more comedy of parental embarassment, but was mainly done to take account of Blake's changed place in the story, in particular the increased emphasis on her relationship with Rainbow Dash, whom Kali gets to meet before Sunset or any of the other members of Team SAPR.

Sonata's Plan (Rewritten)

Sonata’s Plan

“How dare she?” Tempest snarled as she stalked up and down, her feet hammering the wooden floor beneath her as she pounded this way, then turned to head the other way.

Her hands were clenched into fists as she imagined bringing them down upon Bon Bon’s face.

“How dare she?” Tempest repeated.

“Quiet!” hissed Lightning Dust. “If you keep shouting like this, then Cinder will hear it, door or no, and if not her, then Emerald. I’m sure that she listens at doorways.”

“That’s not very ladylike,” Sonata said. “Or is it?”

While Tempest paced up and down in the sitting room of the old manor house, and Lightning Dust stood by the doorway, Sonata was sprawled out on one of the decaying sofas, seeming to not care that it was falling apart, that the cushions were wearing away, and that the wood probably had woodworm. Upon a table, in equally poor condition, she had an array of snacks laid out: crisps in open, half-eaten packets, candy — there were wrappers on the floor — and a big bowl of red fruit punch, that had at some point overflowed out of the bowl to stain the table underneath a dark red, like blood.

There was dust on the back of Sonata’s jacket. She didn’t seem to notice.

Tempest ignored her pronouncement, which might be true but which wouldn’t stop Emerald from sneaking around if she thought she had to. There was a reason Tempest had tried to send her to her death: she was too firmly in Cinder’s faction, and that made her a danger to the rest of them. She might discover things, hear or see things that Cinder was too proud, too high and mighty, to notice.

“And what if she does overhear?” Tempest asked, rounding to face Lightning. “What if she does discover that Amber is awake and runs to tell Cinder about it, what then?”

“Then Cinder will want to know why you didn’t tell her about it,” Lightning said.

“And I will say that I was going to, or that I meant to make her a gift of Amber’s life,” Tempest said. “And she will believe it. Or she won’t. But what is she going to do either way? Is she going to complain about me to Salem, after all the scorn that she has poured on me for doing the same? No. No, she will spit, and hiss, and make some remarks which are intended to cut me, and then she will focus on Amber.”

“Then why don’t you tell her?” asked Sonata.

Tempest swung around to stare at her.

“I’m only asking,” Sonata said plaintively. “Would anyone like some fruit punch?”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Tempest muttered.

And yet … maybe Sonata had a point? Maybe she should tell Cinder what she had seen. After all, it would be difficult for her to get close to Amber, with or — as it seemed — without the cooperation of Bon Bon, and if she did get close to Amber, then she would be exposed immediately, which would make her worse off than Cinder, a fugitive but without any magic to show for it. But if she told Cinder, then … then what? What was Cinder going to do about it, how was she going to get to Beacon?

What would she do, except perhaps call up Sunset Shimmer to ask her what was going on and thus expose that Salem still had eyes at Beacon? Ozpin would whisk Amber away into hiding. It was a minor miracle that he had not done so already; perhaps he needed time to make the arrangements, but even so, to keep his treasure exposed, to let her go into Vale? Reckless, utterly reckless.

But anyway, telling Cinder was not something that would help her at all.

“Cinder,” Tempest said, “is just not reliable at the moment. We’re going to have to take care of this ourselves.”

“If we can,” Lightning said.

“Yes,” Tempest said. “If we can.”

“Can’t your Doctor Watts get Bon Bon’s message out of the CCT so that she can’t spill on you?” asking Lightning.

Tempest shook her head. “You can’t hack into the CCT servers remotely, you need a hard connection in order to get in; that’s why Cinder had to physically break into the tower.”

“Right, of course.”

“And even if we could delete the message, then so what?” Tempest asked. “She could just rat me out with her own voice.”

“Kill her too,” Lightning said.

“And get close to Amber how?” Tempest demanded. “Bon Bon would be my best chance if only she would … how dare she defy me, defy Doctor Watts, defy everything that we’re working towards? How dare she put her conscience, her desires, her friends above our orders?”

“You know, you’re sounding a lot like Cinder right now,” Sonata observed.

“I am nothing like Cinder!” Tempest snapped. “I am … I am … I’ve got good reasons to be upset.”

“Okay, okay,” Sonata said, holding up her hands pacifically. She sat up. “But, you know, I’m sure that I’m just being completely stupid here, but … why do you need to kill this Amber girl at all?”

So that I can kill Cinder too and take her magic. “Because she is the Fall Maiden,” Tempest explained, “and only a Fall Maiden can open the vault to recover the Relic of Choice—”

“Which is what you’re here for, right?” Sonata asked.

Tempest nodded. “That’s correct, yes.”

“Sooooo,” Sonata said, drawing out the word, “Amber can open the vault to get this relic you want so badly, but you want to kill her so that Cinder can get the magic and she can open up the vault and get the relic?”

“Yes, so that we can give it to our mistress.”

“Right, right,” Sonata agreed.

She began to giggle, her body shaking a little back and forth; she covered her mouth with one hand as the light, tinkling sound got away from her to fill up the whole room.

“What’s so funny?” Tempest demanded.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Sonata said quickly, the laughter dying. “Like I said, I’m just being stupid, I’m sure. But … what if you didn’t kill her?”

“What do you mean?” asked Lightning.

“I mean … what if you didn’t kill her?” Sonata repeated. “I mean … Amber can open the vault, right? Amber can give you the relic?”

“'Can'? Yes,” Tempest said. “Amber can, any Fall Maiden can, or could, but why would she? She’s Ozpin’s Fall Maiden; why would she betray him, and everyone else, and give the Relic of Choice up to Salem?”

“To live?” Sonata asked. “I mean, if she doesn’t, then you’re gonna try and kill her, right? And Cinder will, and everyone else will, because Salem isn’t gonna stop until she gets that relic, yeah? And that means she needs to get that magic, right? But if Salem had the relic, then she doesn’t need the magic no more, and so … well, I don’t know, but there wouldn’t be any need to hunt Amber down, would there? She might not want a spot on the team, but she could go where wants to go, and there wouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

Sonata rose to her feet, humming softly to herself. The gem around her neck glistened as she advanced on Tempest. “I’m sure that’s what she wants. I’m sure that’s all she wants.”

Tempest frowned. There was a certain underlying logic to it. In fact, from a certain angle, it was actually quite brilliant, in a way that seemed more and more compelling the more Tempest thought about it. Even with the powers of the Fall Maiden, they were suffering from the disadvantage of not knowing whereabout the Relic of Choice was; it was something that Lionheart couldn’t tell them; it was apparently an incredibly well-kept secret, known only to the Fall Maiden and to Ozpin.

They had intended to get the information out of Ozpin, if at all possible, but that was likely to be difficult, and if they couldn’t manage it, then they would be stuck searching the Beacon grounds and hoping that they weren’t evicted by a counterattack before they found the Relic. But Amber knew where the Relic was, she was one of the two people who did, so if she was to agree to hand it over, well … she could. Who was to stop her?

There might not even be any need for a grimm attack after all. It was possible that Amber could give up the Relic without a shot fired or a sword drawn, without anyone ever realising what she’d done.

Not likely, unless Ozpin was completely blind, but still…

Of course, this all hinged on Amber being willing to cooperate. She might not. She might be a stalwart hero — Ozpin had chosen her as a Maiden after all — she might be the sort of person who would rather die than betray his trust, in which case, even approaching her was likely to get Tempest exposed.

I could get Bon Bon to do it, if she was willing.

Not that it will matter too much who approaches her if Amber’s reaction is to refuse.

Again, there, Sonata had a point. She put it so simply, so compellingly, that Tempest wondered why she hadn’t seen it herself. The Relic of Choice would buy not only Amber’s life, but her freedom, too. Who wouldn’t take such an offer?

A hero wouldn’t. Was Amber a hero, as well as a Maiden? Was there any way to find out, without asking her about this?

Cinder was able to ambush her in the first place because she was running away, just like Spring. That doesn’t suggest someone who is willing to risk everything for some higher cause.

“Besides,” Sonata added, smiling up at Tempest as she put one hand upon her shoulder, “what have you got to lose?”

Another good point. It wasn’t as though they could get to Amber in any case, not with hostile intent. Tempest might be disdainful of Ozpin’s decision to let her wander around, but she was never defenceless. The chances of defeating her guard and breaking Amber’s own aura and killing her before she got help or escaped … very unlikely, to say the least.

There would still be the matter of getting a private word with her where all this could be broached without her protectors, Ozpin’s servants, hearing all about it, but that posed a less formidable challenge, especially if Bon Bon helped, since it seemed that she was trusted around Amber, at least a bit.

“What about Cinder?” asked Lightning.

Sonata cocked her head to one side. “I mean … what about Cinder?”

What about Cinder? What about Cinder indeed? It wasn’t as though she’d been a lot of use recently. She had jeopardised herself, her magic, put the whole mission at risk through her desire to fight Pyrrha Nikos, and then she had wandered off again, and the fact that she’d gotten away with it only made things worse as far as Tempest was concerned.

She was not reliable. Her obsession with Sunset and Pyrrha … she was too wild, too untamed; she was not committed.

Salem deserved someone better, and for the Mistral and Atlas operations, she would have it: someone committed, someone loyal to her, someone who would act with obedience and diligence in all things, someone who wouldn’t be dragged down with unwise attachments. Someone worthy to be the Spring Maiden, or the Winter.

Let Cinder be cast aside. It wasn’t as though she’d have any right to complain about it, after her combination of disloyalty and incompetence.

“This…” she murmured. “Sonata, this is brilliant.”

“Really? Oh, come on!” Sonata cried, waving the praise away. “I mean it’s kind of obvious when you think about it, right?”

“Obvious to you, maybe, not to us,” Lightning replied.

“Well, I mean, if you really want to give me the credit in front of Salem, I guess I can’t say no,” Sonata replied, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, it might even be nice.”

“Yes,” Tempest murmured. “Yes, that’s what we’ll do.”

Salem would need to be told about this, a change to the plan this drastic, the sidelining of Cinder and Amber’s … Amber’s grace, for want of a better word, would need to be approved by Salem herself; only she could call off the beowolves and give Amber the safety that Sonata seemed to think she would choose. Yes, Salem would need to be told about this, and when she was told … why shouldn’t Sonata get the credit she deserved? Why shouldn’t she get to stand before Salem and say ‘yes, this was me, I thought of this’?

Anything else would be just … it wouldn’t be right, would it?

“We will take this to Salem, right away,” Tempest declared. “She needs to know about this as quickly as possible.”

“Yes!” Sonata hissed, punching the air with both hands even as she kept her voice down. “You guys are so awesome. So when are we going to do it, are we going to do it now?”

They did, indeed, go now; the three of them crept through the mouldering and decaying corridors of Portchester Manor, avoiding the areas where Cinder held court but keeping an eye out for Emerald wherever she might be sneaking about. There was no sign of her; she might be acting all lah-de-dah with Cinder in the library again. But they kept a lookout, nevertheless.

When Salem was not using it to communicate with her servants in Vale, the Seer rested in the ballroom. It sat upon the floor, looking less like a grimm and more like a crystal ball, albeit a very dark and dirty one, or perhaps one of those toys that you shook to get your fortune told.

Except that Salem wouldn’t tell them to ask again later.

The Seer sat upon the dirty floor, the floor that was not wood as it was in so many other parts of the house but tiles, cracked and filthy. All the Seer’s tentacles had been drawn up into itself and were invisible. The fangs around the bottom were still visible, but they looked less like teeth and more like a decorative base or stand for a curio or a paperweight.

The Seer was completely black, a deep and inky black that their eyes could not penetrate.

It was almost completely silent, but as they approached, Tempest thought that she could hear a soft snuffling sound coming out of it, like snoring.

Lightning shut the ballroom doors behind them as softly as she could.

“Heeeeey, Salem!” Sonata cried, raising her arms up into the air.

“Shhhh,” Tempest hissed.

“What, you wanna whisper to the boss lady?” Sonata asked. “She’ll think we’re up to something. Aria’s always up to something when she whispers. Unfortunately for her, Adagio has very good ears.” She sniggered. “And besides, we needed to wake up that thing, right? What would have been the point of us standing here whispering while it just kept on lazing away?”

She had a good point, at least; her shout did appear to have woken the Seer up. Gradually, slowly at first, it rose into the air, and as it elevated, it began to glow, the deep blackness within illuminated by a golden light which didn’t exactly reveal anything, but certainly suggested that there was something there to be revealed. The Seer rose up, its tentacles descending downwards as it rose. It rose until it was as high as Tempest was tall, and then it rose a little higher still, high enough that its tentacles didn’t touch the ground as they fell down towards it, their sharp bony points separated by empty space from the faded tiles.

And then, lit up by the golden light within the darkness, the face of Salem appeared, looking down upon them.

“Mistress,” Tempest murmured, as she and Lightning Dust knelt before her. Sonata remained standing.

“Sonata,” she said, her voice disinterested, touched with a little disappointment, “I wasn’t expecting that you would have anything to say to me.”

“I get that a lot,” Sonata said, clasping her hands together behind her back.

Salem glanced at Tempest. “Tempest. Where is Cinder? Or is it of Cinder that you wish to speak.”

“I’m going to tell you how you won’t need Cinder by the time we’re done,” Sonata said. “Does that count?”

Salem sighed. “I have no time to waste on distractions; you had best make this brief.”

“Amber is awake,” Tempest said.

Salem’s expression did not alter. “You know this?”

“I have seen her,” Tempest said. “With my own eyes.”

The news still made no dent upon Salem’s expression. “How?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, Mistress,” Tempest admitted, “but it is definitely her. She is at Beacon as we speak, protected by Ozpin’s agents amongst the students.”

“And she’s going to give us the Relic of Choice!” Sonata cried. “Oh, sorry, were we supposed to be saving that for later?”

Salem’s eyebrows rose a barely perceptible amount. There was still a lack of expression in that pale, corpselike face. “You have a plan, I assume?”

“Sonata has a plan, Mistress,” Tempest said.

“Sonata?” Salem repeated. “You have a plan?”

“I get that a lot, too,” Sonata replied. “How are my sisters?”

“Well enough,” Salem answered. “As well as they have been.”

“Can I see them?”

“If you want them to continue being well,” Salem said, “you will explain your plan.”

“Okay, okay, I was only asking,” Sonata said. “As for my plan, well, it’s pretty simple really. Amber is going to give you the relic, because in return, you aren’t going to try and kill her anymore. I mean, nobody wants to die, right, so who wouldn’t give up a relic in exchange for their survival? And you don’t need her magic once you’ve got the relic, so why would you come after her?”

“Why indeed?” Salem murmured. “But what makes you think that one of Ozpin’s Maidens will so easily betray him?”

“This Ozpin guy didn’t stop Cinder from messing her up, did he?” Sonata asked. “So, if it was me, I’d ask myself who could protect me better: the guy who didn’t protect me the first time, or the one who could keep me safe just by not trying to kill me anymore? But that’s just me; what do I know, right?”

“More than you let on, it seems,” Salem replied. “And what of Cinder? She will not take this well.”

“Nor is she likely to obey your commands, on past experience,” Tempest replied. “It … seems to me, Mistress, that just as Amber has a choice between the man who failed to protect her and the one who can shield her through inaction, you have a choice between Amber, who has every reason to cooperate and none at all to betray you, and Cinder, whose incompetence and disobedience have made this task so much harder than it needed to be.”

Salem was silent for a moment. She said, “I am a good mistress. I was old when this Remnant of a world was young, and I recall the great princes and warlords of the fallen past, the rings they gave and the tales that were told of them. I am a good mistress, and I reward my faithful servants. Carry out your plan, approach Amber, and tell her that if she delivers the Crown of Choice to me, then she will be safe from me and mine forevermore. No grimm will touch her, and no servant of mine will assail her, and anyone she chooses, anyone at all, even Ozpin himself, will likewise be safe from my malice, provided only that they do not attack my servants about their business or seek in any way to hinder my designs in any fashion. If this is done, if the Relic is mine, then you, Tempest, and you too, Lightning Dust, you shall have places of honour at my table, and when all is done and the world is made anew, you will be queens in the new world that I will fashion for your pleasure.

“And as for you, Sonata Dusk, you who have devised this plan and have done so much to carry our ambitions in Vale forward, to you, I will release your sisters and give you all the Kingdom of Vale to be your plaything.”

Sonata’s eyes widened. “A … a whole kingdom? For realsies?”

Salem smirked. “For a relic, I would give as much without hesitation. Tell Cinder nothing of this; the threat of her presence will be useful in stoking Amber’s fear; when the Relic has been recovered, then will be the moment to dispose of her, but until then, tell her nothing of this. Keep it secret and go to Amber and see if her fear is stronger than her sense of duty.

“Bring me a Crown, and I swear to you that I will make all your dreams come true.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: This chapter got moved around in the story order slightly, and got a bit of rewrites to take account of changes from earlier (like Mercury no longer being alive) but otherwise preserves the spirit and key substance of the original.

Flight Response (New)

Flight Response

Rainbow got out her scroll.

“Devices should not be present at the breakfast table,” Ciel murmured.

Rainbow glanced sideways at her, a bemused look upon her face. She opened up her ‘device,’ regardless of Ciel’s disapproval, which was probably not entirely serious. Not that you could tell from the look on the Atlesian girl’s face.

“Save your breath, Ciel,” Neon said, placing a hand upon Ciel’s shoulder. “Your attempts to bring the light of civilisation to these backwards and benighted peoples are sadly doomed to failure. Rainbow here might as well be a Vacuan.”

Rainbow turned her whole head to look at her.

Neon grinned, her feline tail rising up over her shoulder to sway back and forth as though she were using it to wave at Rainbow.

“What is it?” asked Blake. “Something private, or—?”

“It’s from Cadance,” Rainbow said softly, looking at the message that had appeared on the screen of her scroll. “She’s sent me a link, hang on.” She tapped the link with the forefinger of her left hand.

Sunset was sat on the other side of the table in the dining hall, where they were all — Team SAPR, Amber, Team YRBN, Team RSPT, Team BLBL, Sun, Neptune, and special guest Neon Katt of Team FNKI — were sat down for breakfast; an array of hot and cold foods — sausages and bacon, pastries, porridge, cereals, fruits and yoghurts — sat in front of them upon the plastic trays.

Because she was on the other side of the table, she couldn’t exactly make out what it was on the link that Cadance had sent to Rainbow Dash, but she could tell that it was a news website, or at least she was pretty sure it was, just as she was fairly certain that that was a picture of Jacques Schnee that she could see inverted on Rainbow’s scroll.

“Oh, hey,” Rainbow said. “Oh, yes! Blake, everyone, listen to this: the SDC has settled with the Mantle strikers.”

“Really?” Blake asked, her voice rising enthusiastically.

Rainbow nodded. “Yeah, it’s right here in the link that Cadance sent me; it’s breaking news: ‘Following a period of intense negotiations and arbitration by the respected huntsman and private security contractor Bran Thornmane, the Schnee Dust Company announced that it had reached an agreement with Hanlon Fifestone, unofficial leader of the Mantle-based employees of the SDC who have been on strike for blah blah … Hanlon Fifestone in turn confirmed that all strikes had been called off immediately, declaring that they had struck a square deal for the people of Mantle and for hard-working people across the Kingdom of Atlas.

“‘Fifestone also praised retired Colonel Thornmane for his mediation efforts, saying that he had been open-minded, fair, and impartial throughout.’”

Rainbow grinned. “‘The recent wave of strikes that have brought Mantle to a standstill along with over fifty percent of dust processing activities in Atlas was precipitated by the actions of former Atlesian special agent Blake Belladonna and Atlas Academy student Rainbow Dash, who together—’”

“Blah blah blah,” Blake said, cutting her off before she could finish.

Rainbow pouted. “Aw, come on, Blake.”

“We know what we did,” Blake said softly, as softly as the smile that was playing across her face.

“Ah, but does everyone else know what we did?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Yes,” Neon said firmly. “Yes, we know what you did, and it was awesome, don’t get me wrong, but we really don’t need to hear it again. I say this with love, of course.”

“I don’t know what you did,” Amber murmured tentatively.

“Nothing much,” Blake said. “We happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“To uncover a modern slavery ring and shut it down,” Rainbow added.

“Mantle is the story,” Blake insisted. “Not us. Fifestone and Thornmane are the heroes, not us.”

“Come on,” Rainbow said. “We’re a little bit heroic.”

“They’re not wearing Fifestone wigs on the streets of Mantle,” Neon added.

“Hmm,” Blake said. “He’s probably glad about that.”

“It’s the price of celebrity, I’m afraid,” Pyrrha said sympathetically. “There’s very little to be done about it. Have they brought out toys of Gambol Shroud yet?”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “I … I don’t think so; is that … is that a thing?”

“You can buy Miló and Akoúo̱ toys,” Pyrrha said. “It wouldn’t surprise me, considering the impact of this story and the fact that your fame is only likely to increase following the Vytal Festival, if there are Gambol Shrouds in toyshops by the time the year turns.”

“If they’re going to do it, then they’ll want to get it out for Longest Night; it’s when we give presents to celebrate the new beginning,” Neon said. “But would they really do that?”

“Perhaps not; I don’t know Atlas well enough to say,” Pyrrha admitted, “but I don’t think the possibility should be discounted.”

“What are they like?” Ruby asked. “The toys of your weapons? Do they transform?”

“Akoúo̱ is little more than a plastic frisbee painted gold,” Pyrrha explained. “For Miló … there is an expensive toy which does transform, albeit completely manually, more laboriously, and in a manner that is not entirely accurate to my weapon. There are also three cheaper toys that are simply the spear, the sword, and the rifle without any capacity to change between them.”

“When you say ‘not entirely accurate,’” Blake said, “what does that mean?”

“I gather there are some difficulties in replicating the means by which Miló transitions from one mode to the other,” Pyrrha said, “and so, especially when it comes the rifle, there are various extraneous bits of plastic sticking out that are necessary for the sword and spear modes but had no place on the rifle. The manufacturers told me this is quite common when making toys based on shifting weapons. They call it kibble; I’m not quite sure why.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured.

“Don’t act like that would be a bad thing,” Rainbow said.

“I didn’t do this for fame,” Blake said.

“No, but since you did it, there’s no harm in being famous too,” Rainbow replied. “Look at it this way: the more people know who you are, the more people are going to listen to you when you start talking.”

“She’s got a point,” Neptune said. “Celebrities have influence, even when they don’t have any power.”

“But isn’t power preferable to influence?” Blake replied.

“Yeah, but you don’t have any power yet either way, so why get rid of your influence?” asked Sun.

Blake paused for a moment. “That … that’s a good point, I suppose.”

“I’m warning you now,” Neon said, “that if you two do get toys made of your weapons, I am absolutely going to swap out the real ones for the toys at some point. I will find a way.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Amber said, quietly and warily.

“No,” Neon agreed, “but it will be hilarious.”

“What are the terms?” Blake asked, bringing the conversation back onto more serious ground. “What have the SDC agreed to in order to stop the strike?”

“Hmm, let me see,” Rainbow murmured, scrolling downwards through the article for a second. “Right, okay: SDC Security is to be disbanded; Fifestone’s union is to be officially recognised by the SDC, and they’re allowed to recruit members without fear of penalty; one third of all the seats on the board of directors are to be elected by the employees; an immediate end to wage garnishing for accommodation at SDC facilities; and everyone gets one day off sick self-certified and up to seven days sick per doctor’s note with no limit on the number of doctor’s notes you can get.”

“Pay?” Blake asked. “Working conditions?”

“Nothing about that here,” Rainbow said, “but I guess that the big victory is electing board members and getting the union acknowledged; now that they’ve got those two things, they can fight for better pay and conditions regularly, in the boardroom and with more legal strikes if need be.” She snapped up her scroll. “It seems like they’ve made it a lot harder for any future Calliope Fernys to come along and start doing what she did, which I guess was the main point of the exercise. Anything else they want will come later.”

Blake nodded. “I suppose Fifestone didn’t want to be seen as too grasping or opportunistic, addressing issues outside of Mantle’s original complaints related to what we found. And you’re right; it will make it a lot harder for anything like that to happen again, not least because of the oversight given to workers’ representatives.”

“Will there be enough huntsmen to defend the SDC facilities now that SDC Security has been disbanded?” asked Ruby. “I know that the boss turned out to be running the slave camps, but couldn’t they have just reformed it instead?”

“Who would have trusted it?” asked Rainbow in reply. “Some things, you just can’t come back from, and it wasn’t just Calliope Ferny; she admitted herself that a lot of her guards were in on it too. Would the workers really be able to trust that Security was there to protect them, not keep them in line?”

“SDC Security had a bad reputation amongst the faunus even before this,” Blake added. “When … the White Fang feared going up against Atlesian military, but they relished the opportunity for payback against SDC Security. This will be welcomed by all the faunus, and it’s like you said, huntsmen can be hired to protect facilities against the grimm, or the White Fang. Or independent private security like this Thornmane person.”

“Bran Thornmane,” Neon said. “Former officer, like it said in Dashie’s article, retired from the military and founded Thornmane’s Guardians.”

“Huntsmen?” asked Ruby. “Or not?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all huntsmen,” Neon replied. “Thornmane stations them in little villages and places that might not be able to afford to hire a huntsman whenever they got into trouble, or where a huntsman couldn’t get out to them in time. Hence the name; they’re guardians of their communities.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Nora said. “There are a lot of places in Anima that could do with a guardian like that. By the time some of these villages figure out they could do with a huntsman, it’s already too late; the grimm or bandits are closer than any huntsman is.”

“Indeed,” Ren murmured, “but if these places cannot afford a huntsman in an emergency, then how do they afford the full-time protection of one of these Guardians?”

“It’s, um, Ciel, help me out with the word,” Neon said. “That thing where you charge less than you should for some things, and more than you need to for others, and it means that things even out, and you end up with the right amount of money.”

“I am not sure there is a dedicated word for that, unless it is simply evening out costs,” Ciel replied. “The point is that Thornmane’s prices for certain other huntsman activities are higher to enable him to support his Guardians in poor communities.”

“But they still work alone, the Guardians?” Ruby asked.

“Mainly, yeah,” Neon said. “I think Thornmane sends backup if anyone needs it.”

“Huh,” Ruby murmured. “That sounds … that sounds like a great way of doing it, really.”

“Doing what?” asked Jaune.

“Everything,” Ruby replied. “Not as rigid or controlling as a military, but not everyone just working on their own either; there’s a way of bringing people together when you need to.”

“But there is a boss,” Sunset reminded her. “I mean, this Thornmane is in charge, right?”

“But in charge of what?” Ruby responded. “I guess he’s not giving orders all the time, only when he absolutely has to. I think … maybe that’s the way that it ought to be done.”

“I can see where you’re coming from with this, but no,” Yang said firmly. “I don’t want to be under some other guy’s instructions, even if they are rare, and I don’t want to be stuck in one village for the rest of my life; I want to be able to go where I want, when I want, and be my own boss; I wouldn’t want to give that up.”

“Not even if it was important?” Ruby asked.

“If it was important, then sure, I’d put that to one side,” Yang said. “But when it stopped being important, I’d like to pick it up again.”

“Anyway,” Jaune said, “that sounds like great news, about the SDC.”

“Indeed,” Sunset said. “You’ve both done very well. And it will impress your mother, no doubt, to hear about it, if she hasn’t heard already by the time you see her again.”

“Yes, I—” Blake stopped as Weiss and her team entered the dining hall.

Weiss didn’t look at them as she led the three boys inside. She didn’t look at anyone, but kept her face to the front, eyes up, moving with a gait that would have been perfect if it hadn’t seemed a little stiff; she moved with the brittle dignity of someone who was trying hard to ignore the opinions of others.

She didn’t look at any of those sat with Sunset around the table. She didn’t look at anyone in the dining hall, despite — or more likely because — of the fact that a number of people were looking at her, faunus and others.

Sunset couldn’t tell what they were all thinking, but even without using her semblance, she could take a guess.

“Weiss!” Blake called, getting to her feet.

Weiss stopped, turning her head; her long ponytail flapped around her a little as she looked at Blake. “Yes?” she asked quietly.

Blake smiled at her. “There’s room here, if you’d like to sit with us.”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. Her teammates also paused, waiting to see what she would do; none of them offered her any advice, or even their own opinions on the matter. They kept quiet and looked at her, and looked at the empty spaces next to RSPT on the end of the table, and they waited.

“Thank you,” Weiss said, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition,” Blake said. “I, we, would welcome your company. Please.”

Weiss stared at her for a moment, and then a moment more. She inclined her head in gratitude. “Well, in that case, how can I refuse?”

Her wedge-heeled boots tapped against the floor as she made her way towards the first empty space, on the left flank of Team RSPT.

She stopped as she noticed Amber, sitting between Pyrrha and Dove.

“Hello,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No,” Amber said. “No, I don’t think we have. My name is Amber Briarrose, and I … I’m staying with Team Sapphire for a while.”

“Amber is Professor Ozpin’s niece,” Pyrrha explained. “Staying at Beacon while other arrangements are made.”

“I … see,” Weiss said quietly, not sounding as if she saw at all, but evidently deciding that it wasn’t her place to push the point. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amber; I’m Weiss Schnee, and these are my teammates, Flash Sentry, Cardin Winchester, and Russel Thrush.”

“Good to meet you,” said Flash, with a slight bow of his head.

“Indeed,” Cardin added.

“Hey,” Russel said. “I didn’t know Professor Ozpin had a niece.”

“Not too surprising; he’s our headmaster, not our friend,” Weiss said as she sat down next to the Rosepetals, “and some men wish to keep their family circumstances private.” She glanced at Amber. “That being the case, it’s best not to pry into those circumstances.”

Perhaps it was the presence of Amber nearby, and the marks on her face that were nearly completely concealed beneath expertly applied makeup, but Sunset couldn’t help but notice the scar on Weiss’ face, the mark that ran from her temple down — via her eye, which she was lucky to still have — to her cheek. Amber’s treatment of her injuries begged the question that Sunset had not previously considered of why Weiss didn’t try to hide her own injury, which she surely could have done.

People were different, of course, and it was entirely Weiss’ choice, but still … Sunset found herself curious. Clearly, it was not something of which she felt ashamed, or even regarded with any distaste.

She didn’t know how Weiss had gotten the scar; they weren’t close enough for Sunset to ask.

And, as Weiss had said, it was best not to pry into the circumstances of those who wished to keep such things private.

“How are you holding up?” Blake asked.

Weiss looked at her. “I’m sure there are some people around this very table who find your being solicitous of me to be very odd indeed.”

Blake glanced down the table. “If that is true, then they don’t know me as well as they think.”

“Civis Atlarum Sum,” Rainbow said quietly. “Like I told you when we first arrived, if you need any assistance, then … you can call on us, or any Atlas students to assist you.”

Weiss snorted. “A very generous offer, but I think that some of the Atlas students are amongst those who can’t see beyond my last name.”

Blake winced. “Has … anything … happened?”

“It hasn’t helped our reputation as the racist team, that’s for sure,” Russel muttered.

“Not with anyone with any sense,” Flash said. “No one who thinks seriously about this thinks that Weiss could be involved with this; her father isn’t even involved.”

“But the company that bears my name is,” Weiss declared. “I don’t begrudge people their shock, and I don’t begrudge them their reactions to this news either; it … is the sort of news people should have strong reactions about.”

“That doesn’t excuse…” Sunset began, trailing off since as yet Weiss had given them no indications of what those ‘reactions’ have amounted to. “Flash, has anything happened? Has anyone … graffitied your door?”

“You had to bring that up,” Cardin muttered.

Sunset winced. “Sorry, it was just an example that came to mind.”

“No,” Flash said. “No, there’s been nothing like that. It’s just—”

“Staring,” Russel said. “And whispering. I feel like my grandad when he started to get on, thinking that everyone was talking about him behind his back, plotting against him: the bartender, the shopkeeper. Only, he was going round the bend; I’m certain they really are talking about us.”

“What did your grandpa do about it?” asked Yang.

“He picked fights and got himself barred from everywhere,” Russel replied. “I’d try picking fights, but some of these people are bigger than me.”

“Plus, you don’t want to get thrown out,” Jaune added.

“Well, yeah, that too, I suppose,” Russel said.

“It will pass,” Weiss said.

“Will it?” asked Russel.

“Yes!” Weiss said sharply. “I will not be defined by my father’s actions, and I certainly will not be defined by his incompetence! At the risk of sounding defensive, I would remind you all that my father knew nothing of what was going on under Ms. Ferny’s direction. That … does not make him the great businessman that he was believed to be, including by myself, but it does not make him a monster, and it certainly does not make me one.

“I am the granddaughter of a hero as well as the daughter of a … flawed man,” Weiss went on, “and I will not allow my name to be defined for me by my father’s mistakes or by the judgement of the wider world on those mistakes. I will define this name myself, by an accounting of my deeds, as we all will define our names and the name of Team Wisteria. Starting at the Vytal Festival.” She swept her gaze imperiously up the table. “I hope that none of you feel so much sympathy for me, for us, that you think of going easy on us, should our paths cross.”

Sunset snorted. “No chance of that.”

“Good,” Weiss said. “I’m delighted to hear it. Just as I was delighted to hear that this strike in Mantle has been settled to the benefit of Mantle.”

“'Delighted'?” asked Neon. “Really?”

“It is delightful news, isn’t it?” asked Penny.

“It’s delightful news for Mantle,” Neon replied. “Not for her family.”

“Neon,” Ciel said gently.

“I am more than just my name; I have opinions beyond what is for the good of the SDC’s bottom line,” Weiss said, a touch of frost covering her voice. “I can recognise the justice of Mantle’s cause in response to how my father’s company has behaved.”

“Then you’ve heard?” Blake asked.

“That the strike has been settled? Yes, and on what terms,” Weiss replied. “I have to say I feel as though this Fifestone fellow has been quite generous, not wringing any increases in pay or the like out of my father.”

“I think he wants to keep focussed on the issues that led to the strike in the first place, so as to not risk sympathy,” Rainbow said.

“You may be correct,” Weiss murmured, “but whether Fifestone is correct … he may have thrown away his best chance.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Ciel. “There will be other chances to negotiate better pay, better conditions, no?”

“In theory,” Weiss agreed. “But…”

“You can’t stop now; you’ve got us hanging off your every word,” Sunset said.

One corner of Weiss’ mouth twitched upwards. “But my father is a proud man,” she said. “I fear that he will take this as a defeat and bear malice for it.”

“Really?” asked Penny. “Even though it wasn’t his fault in the first place?”

“He has been blamed,” Weiss reminded her, “and his reputation damaged. I’m afraid…”

“Afraid of what?” asked Blake quietly.

“That … he will be stubborn in future,” Weiss said. “Even moreso than he was before.”

She shook her head, her ponytail shaking from side to side. “In any case, that is something for the future, something that may never happen, something that certainly shouldn’t detract from what Mantle has accomplished and what the two of you began.”

“See?” Rainbow said. “Weiss thinks we’re heroes.”

“As I was saying,” Sunset said, “this will be some good news to share with your mother when you see her next.”

“Whose mother?” asked Weiss.

“My mother,” Blake said. “She has come from Menagerie to visit me; she arrived last night.”

“Is that far away?” asked Amber.

“Quite far, yes,” Blake replied. “Farther than Mistral, and farther from here than Atlas too, I think, although in a different direction.”

“I see,” Amber said softly. “She must love you, to come all this way.”

Blake’s face reddened a little. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, she does love me, very much. She always did.” She looked away, her head bowing just a little.

“Did … did I say something wrong?” asked Amber. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not your fault,” Blake assured her. “You weren’t to know. My mother and I, my parents and I … I didn’t appreciate them, and we left things … badly. When Mom turned up last night, it was a chance to start making things a little better.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sunset said. Now if only Amber would do the same with Professor Ozpin. Once you forgive those who raised you for the mistakes they made and accept that they were just trying their best, then … then you find that they have so much more love to give you.

I really believe that Amber and Professor Ozpin would both benefit if she could forgive him; it would help him a lot, but it would help her too if she could go to him for advice, for mentoring, for love.

I just don’t know how to make her see that.

Perhaps Princess Celestia herself will know. Although she couldn’t make me forgive her, I had to come to that on my own.

Nevertheless, she may have some wisdom from which I may benefit.

Perhaps Professor Ozpin will have to make the first move.

I will see what she has to say.

“What’s she like?” Ruby asked. “Your mom, I mean.”

“She’s sharp as a tack,” Sun answered for her. “Really smart.”

“Really smart or smarter than you?” asked Neptune.

“Dude, when did you get replaced by Scarlet?”

“Oh, Scarlet would have much, much worse to say than that,” Neptune assured him.

“Is your mom coming up to see you again today?” asked Yang.

“Yes,” Blake said. “She is.”

“I’m going to fly down and pick her up after I’m done with breakfast,” Rainbow added.

Yang frowned. “Can’t she just get a skybus up here? Or is this respect for Blake’s mom?”

“It’s partly that, and partly all of this anti-faunus sentiment in Vale,” Rainbow replied. “I don’t want Blake’s mom to get mugged by some jackass on the way to the skydock, or harassed on the bus.”

“I guess that’s a fair point,” Yang conceded. “So, I take it that means you won’t be joining us for that sparring session then, huh?”

“No, I’ll be there,” Blake answered. “I wouldn’t want to put any of you out.”

Yang stared at her. So, too, did Nora and — more discreetly — Ren.

Blake blinked. “What?”

“Your mom is here,” Yang said.

“Yes.”

“Your mom who you haven’t seen in forever, right?”

“Six years,” Blake answered. “So?”

“So what are you doing sparring with us instead of spending time with your mom?” Yang demanded.

“I’m keeping my skills in touch and preparing for the Vytal Festival,” Blake said. “Meanwhile, Mom can watch me spar; we’ll have all the time when we’re not sparring and afterwards. It’s not like I don’t have plans.” She paused. “Sun, Sunset, Twilight, Ciel, are you okay to come to dinner with Rainbow, Trixie, Starlight, and me tonight? Mom wants to get to know you all.”

“Yeah, sure,” Twilight said. “That sounds great.”

“Count me in too,” Sun added.

“Where are you having dinner?” asked Neptune warily.

“Probably just the restaurant at Mom’s hotel; she didn’t say,” Blake replied. “Why?”

“Because Sun cannot show up dressed like that,” Neptune declared. “Do you still have your Haven uniform, or did you lose it?”

“You know I’m not a uniform kind of guy.”

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

“Not on purpose,” Sun said. “I put in the washing machine and it wasn’t there when I checked on it. The next day.”

Neptune rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude, you can’t go to dinner with your girlfriend’s mom in that shirt and those pants.”

“All the Atlesians are gonna be there; it’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes,” Neptune said. “All the Atlesians are going to be there, so what’s it going to look like to Blake’s mom when you’re the only one who hasn’t dressed up?”

Sun’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow, you’re right; what do I do?”

“You don’t need to—” Blake began.

“Just come with me,” Neptune said, taking Sun by the arm and drawing him to his feet, “and let a cool guy with fashion sense take care of everything.”

“I really don’t think that—” Blake tried to protest, but it was too late, as Neptune was already leading Sun away out of the dining room.

Blake watched after that, before turning her attention to Team RSPT. “Are you really going to dress up?”

“I was going to wear dress whites, yeah,” Rainbow said.

“It’s only my mom,” Blake pointed out.

“She’s the Chieftainess of Menagerie,” Twilight replied. “And your mom.”

“Not to interrupt, but what was this about a sparring session?” asked Weiss.

“We’re having a quick few rounds to get ready for Last Shot,” Yang explained. “Team Iron, Team Sapphire, Team Rosepetal are going to keep their hand in as well.”

“Would you like to join us?” asked Blake.

Weiss quickly shared a glance with her teammates, who all nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, thank you; that would be great.”

"Are you sure you're going to be okay here?" asked Sunset.

The smile was a little tight upon Amber's face, but it was a smile nevertheless, however small it was. "I'll be fine, Sunset," she said as she sat down next on one of the benches that sat on the lower level of the amphitheatre, beneath and around the stage.

"Okay," Sunset said. "It's just I know you said that you weren't really very interested in tournament-style fighting." It was her turn to smile. "Although, who knows, maybe we'll be able to light a fire in you with our displays of superlative skill."

"Maybe," Amber conceded. "But I doubt it." She paused. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if all your battles could be for show and play, not life and death against monsters or murderers?"

"Show and play make them all seem very facile," Sunset remarked, "but, as to your point … yes, that would be very grand … save that I am not sure if we were all nought but Mistralian gladiators whether we would have some of us here. There are those who are driven by intent too serious who would not stoop to entertain a crowd upon a regular basis."

"No, I suppose not; you're all so very gallant and selfless," Amber murmured. "But then, if there were no enemy, no grimm, no … nothing, then … then those people could find something safe to do, something they loved."

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "Yes, I suppose they could." She knelt down in front of Amber, exchanging looking up down upon her for looking up at her. "And what would you do, in this world without monsters or murderers?" Or magic, though I cannot speak of it.

Amber's smile brightened, not least because she opened her mouth to show her teeth. "I would sing," she said. "In that great concert hall you all showed me. Or … or perhaps not. Perhaps … I don't know, the city is wonderful, but I don't know if I'd like to live there all the time. A little cottage, with Dove, that might suit me better."

Sunset chuckled. "A patch of land to call your own, with some woods, and a stream running by, and a couple of servants to do all of the hard work for you perhaps. The pastoral idyll sought throughout the ages."

"I wouldn't need people to do all the work for me," Amber said. "I could learn how to farm; I enjoy growing things."

"You might not once it became work, life and death," Sunset replied.

"Perhaps," Amber admitted. "Perhaps I could make things, and sell them instead."

"Or become a famous singer for a little bit, make your money and then retire to that cottage with no need to worry about how you'd support yourself," Sunset suggested.

"Perhaps," Amber murmured. She sighed. "But that … that isn't the world that we live in, is it?"

"No," Sunset conceded. "No, it's not."

"What are you talking about?" asked Dove as he ambled over, holding a lime green can of some sort of pop that he must have gotten from the vending machines outside. He handed it to Amber.

"Thank you," she said. "Sunset and I were just talking about what we'd do, in a world where … with none of … none of this. No need for huntsmen or huntresses, no … none of this."

Dove sat down beside her, which required Sunset to scoot a little bit to make room for him. "That … I don't know, really. I suppose I would have had to become a tanner like my mother, in that case."

"Or moved to the big city to seek your fortune," Sunset said.

"I'm not sure that I have the ambition for that," Dove replied. "It really took Amber to get me out of the village."

"There's nothing you want?" Sunset asked. "If you could be anything you wanted, anything at all, what would it be?"

Dove was silent for a moment, and then a moment more. He glanced at Amber, and then up at the darkened ceiling of the amphitheatre which covered all their heads. "A gamekeeper," he said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'A gamekeeper'?"

Dove nodded. "Sometimes protecting the animals, other times hunting them, I think that might suit me."

"Huh," Sunset said. "Not an answer I was expecting, but okay." Maybe Professor Ozpin can arrange for you to hide out on some grand country estate? "Anyway, I've got to go now, but the stage isn't far away, and there'll always be someone not on stage. If it's not us, it will be the Rosepetals, or Blake at the very least. You good?"

Amber reached out for Dove, taking one of his hands. "Yes. I'm very well, thank you."

"Awesome," Sunset said. "Try and enjoy it, okay?"

So saying, she turned away from Amber and Dove and wandered over to join Yang and Weiss where they stood close by the stage.

"Is she okay?" Yang asked.

"Yeah, she's fine."

"You're very solicitous of her," Weiss observed.

"I'm naturally a very kind person," Sunset said, in a tone as dry as dust. "But seriously, she … Amber's been through a lot."

"Mmm, I suppose she must have," Weiss murmured. "At least she has an uncle who is well placed and has the means to assist her." She glanced past Sunset. "Dove Bronzewing also seems quite familiar with her."

"They're old friends," Sunset explained. "They used to live nearby one another."

"'Old friends'?" Weiss repeated.

Sunset smirked. "It's true love."

Weiss raised her scarred eyebrow. "If you believe in that sort of thing."

"I couldn't share a room with Jaune and Pyrrha and not believe in that sort of thing," Sunset replied.

Weiss snorted. "Well, that is as may be, I suppose. Either they'll make it work, or they won't; it's no concern of mine."

Sunset was left uncertain whether she was talking about Amber and Dove, or Jaune and Pyrrha, or both of them.

Weiss went on, "I suppose we're going to wait for Rainbow and Blake to return with … Blake's mother before we begin?"

"Are you in a rush?"

"Not particularly," Weiss replied. "But I would rather be up on stage when they arrive."

"You don't want to meet Blake's mother," Sunset guessed.

"She's hardly likely to look kindly upon a Schnee," Weiss said. "I'd rather remove the potential for frostiness."

"Well, we don't have to wait," said Yang. "Yeah, we can't do four on fours until they get back, but we could do some single sparring? Or doubles? Weiss and Flash against Pyrrha and Jaune?"

Weiss put one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. "I certainly wouldn't object to that."

"We're here," Rainbow declared, as she and Blake pushed open the doors and walked through into the amphitheatre, accompanied by a woman who looked like a slightly older — but still very well preserved; certainly you could not say that Lady Belladonna had grown old before her time — Blake, albeit with much shorter hair, that being the main difference between the two of them, apart from their clothes.

"Oh, hey," Yang said, turning to face them. "You're here. We were just about to start without you."

"Everyone," Blake said, "for those of you who don't know, this is my Mom, Kali Belladonna. Mom, this is … everyone." She began to point out the various people. "You've met a lot of them already, but that's Dove Bronzewing, Amber Briarrose, Lyra Heartstrings, Bonnie Bonaventure, Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Sunset Shimmer, Russel Thrush, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, and…" Her finger hesitated over Weiss, who was both not looking at Blake or her mother — her gaze was going past Sunset's human ears and somewhere into the middle distance — but also looked as though she were trying to turn herself invisible by the act of remaining completely still and motionless.

"And Weiss Schnee," Blake said. "A good friend of mine in recent weeks."

No one said anything. The amphitheatre was silent, save for the soft sounds of Lady Belladonna's footsteps upon the black floor as she walked forwards. Yang and Sunset made way for her, retreating a few paces so that they did not crowd her in as she walked, without a word, towards Weiss.

Weiss still did not turn her head; rather, her icy blue eyes darted in Lady Belladonna's direction, like a hunted animal who fears that its stillness stratagem has not worked to fool the predator.

"Weiss Schnee," Lady Belladonna said. Her tone brightened. "Well, any friend of Blake's is a friend of mine. It's wonderful to meet you, Weiss."

Weiss' mouth opened, forming a square or oblong of surprise as she could not resist looking at Blake's mother. "I … that's very kind of you, ma'am."

"Is everyone going to call me 'ma'am'? It makes me feel very old," Lady Belladonna asked. "And what, exactly, is so very kind about it? After all, you are Blake's friend, aren't you?"

"Yes, but…" Weiss clasped her hands together behind her back. "Not only that, ma'am."

"And I am not only Blake's mother," Lady Belladonna said. "But that is what I'd expect you to see when you look at me. You are more than Blake's friend, as we are all more than just one thing, but as I'm Blake's mother, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me seeing you as one of her friends."

Weiss stared at her, before she bowed her head. "I understand. Thank you, ma'am."

"Thank me for what?" asked Lady Belladonna. She turned away, "Blake, is Weiss coming to dinner with us tonight?"

"Um…" Blake shrugged. "Weiss, are you doing anything tonight?"

"Having dinner with you and your mother, it seems," Weiss replied.

"Splendid!" Lady Belladonna cried. "Now, who else did you say you were going to invite?"

"Rainbow, Twilight," Blake said. "Sun—"

"I don't see Sun here," Lady Belladonna remarked.

"He's … being helped to get ready," Blake murmured. "I'm afraid … Sun's team doesn't like him enough to join him for a sparring session, and besides, the Haven students already had their qualification round. Anyway, you'll see him tonight if not sooner, and then there's Starlight and Trixie — they're not here either — and Sunset."

Sunset bowed, as she had done to Lady Nikos, spreading her arms out on either side of her. "An honour to meet you, my lady."

"'My lady'? I think I might prefer 'ma'am,'" Lady Belladonna said.

Sunset smiled. "In that case, ma'am, I apologise."

The corner of Lady Belladonna's mouth twitched upwards. "Sunset Shimmer," she repeated. "Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose, you must be Team Sapphire, then."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "We have that honour, ma'am."

"Thank you," Lady Belladonna said, "for taking Blake in during the unpleasant business that happened to her last semester. I'm very grateful for all the support that she received from her friends. I'm glad that she seems to be surrounded by such good people."

"We've been very fortunate to have Blake's support," Sunset said. "Our efforts would have been … we've been lucky."

"That wasn't how you felt at first," Blake observed.

"That sounds like a fascinating discussion to have tonight," Lady Belladonna said amusedly. "But for now, I won't keep you from your sparring any longer." She walked to an empty seat. "I shall just sit, and watch, and cheer Blake on."

"Oh, you'll get something to cheer all right, ma'am, guarantee it," Yang declared. "So, now that we're all here, how about some four on fours?"

"Actually—" Weiss began.

"We'll take you on," Sunset declared. "Team Sapphire versus Team Iron, rematch from the start of the year."

"But I—" Weiss protested.

"Oho, yeah!" Yang cried. "Come on, guys, let's do this!"

Sunset turned to her teammates. "I take it no one has any objections."

Jaune shook his head. Pyrrha said, "This is why we're here, after all."

The four of them climbed up onto the stage, standing on the left hand side of it, while Team YRBN assembled on the right.

Sunset looked at them for a moment. Blake hadn't been a part of their team the last time; that would make this a little bit harder.

Still, Sunset was quietly confident that they would come out on top.

Sunset got out her scroll, Yang doing likewise, and the press of a button later, the aura levels of all four members of Team SAPR appeared on the wall on the left, and all the aura levels of Team YRBN appeared on the right.

At present, all the students were in the green, a hundred percent.

As the lights went down, shrouding the amphitheatre in darkness, hiding the spectators from view, Yang called out, "Hey, Weiss, do you mind refereeing for us?"

Weiss sighed. "Very well. I'll give you some time to discuss your strategies."

As Team YRBN went into a huddle, Sunset turned away from them and beckoned her teammates to join her. They drew in, huddling close, so that they could speak in hushed whispers without being overheard.

"Now, I hate to say this," Sunset said, "but man for man, woman for woman, I think they're mostly better than most of us, but I think we can win this if we break them down and take them out piece by piece. Jaune, I need you to pin Yang down; you don't have to beat her, just don't let her get away from you, take the hits for a little bit. Pyrrha, can you take Nora and Blake, at least for a little bit?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I believe so." She smiled. "Blake's semblance will be a novel challenge."

"Watch out for her use of dust," Sunset warned her. "Ruby, stay back and provide fire support to Jaune and Pyrrha as you think they need it."

"What about you?" asked Ruby.

"I'm going to take out Ren; he's the weak link," Sunset said. "Then I'll engage Blake long enough for Pyrrha to finish off Nora; Blake will probably take me out, but by that point, it will be three against two. When that happens, Ruby, switch fire support completely to Jaune and let Pyrrha deal with Blake, and then finally go for Yang to claim the win."

"And is Team Iron supposed to remain quiescent while this is going on?" asked Pyrrha. "Blake's semblance makes her uniquely capable of breaking contact."

"If that happens, then follow Blake," Sunset told her, "and leave Nora to me."

"I will try and deal with them both before you are done with Ren," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset grinned. "That would be great, but not completely necessary. Are we all clear?"

Jaune and Ruby both nodded their assent.

"Okay then, let's do this," Sunset said, and whirled around to face their opponents.

Their opponents faced them too. Yang's hands were clenched into fists, down by her sides at present but with her elbows bent so that she could rapidly bring them up. Nora's feet were widely spaced apart, her weapon in its hammer form gripped tightly. Ren's Stormflowers dropped out of his sleeves and into his waiting hands, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Blake was reaching over her shoulder, one hand upon the hilt of Gambol Shroud.

"Are both teams ready?" asked Weiss, her voice emerging from out of the darkness.

Sunset's left hand glowed a faint green as she gathered her magic. "Ready."

"Ready," Yang said.

"Go get 'em, Blake!" cried Lady Belladonna.

"Go Team Sapphire!" yelled Penny.

"Begin!" snapped Weiss.

Sunset raised her hand and fired a bolt of magic at Nora; she hoped that Ren would take the hit for her, but instead, it was Blake who dived in front of Nora, only to transform in the instant before the magical blast struck into a stone statue, an earth dust clone which took the hit, shattering into pieces but absorbing all of the magic in the process.

Blake was already in the air, hanging suspended for a moment before she descended towards Pyrrha like a hawk descending upon the hapless field mouse.

Ruby fired upwards, Crescent Rose barking. In the air as she was, Blake couldn’t dodge the shot, so she had to burn another clone on it — an ordinary clone, no earth or ice or fire dust involved — to take the hit, while she appeared back on the stage, the advantage of her descent lost.

She charged at Pyrrha, and Nora and Yang were doing likewise, rushing across the stage towards Pyrrha, doubtless to overwhelm her and thus give themselves the leisure to finish off the remainder of Team SAPR.

Ren alone hung back. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and shot at him, her rifle spitting, but he leapt out of the way, rolling along the stage and back onto his feet, the bullet missing him by yards.

Ruby fired twice more at Blake, who evaded one shot and used a clone to take the other for her.

The three YRBN huntresses closed in on Pyrrha from three sides, like a pack of hounds upon the deer. For her part, Pyrrha bore herself more like the majestic stag than like a hunted doe, head up, back straight, her armour glimmering even in the little light that illuminated the stage. Her weapons were in her hands, but her hands were by her sides, only late did she raise her Akoúo̱ up to protect her or bring Miló up in sword mode to strike above her shield.

Yang was on the right of YRBN’s approach, and Jaune rushed towards her, shield up, reforged sword held aloft.

Ren moved to intercept him.

So that’s your plan, Yang.

Sunset teleported, appearing right above Ren and bringing the butt of Sol Invictus — gripped by the barrel in both of Sunset’s hands — down upon his head.

There was a crack as the blow struck home, driving Ren face first onto the floor of the stage.

Sunset landed, standing over him. She raised her gun, intending to empty it into him while he was lying there. Ren rolled aside, and as he rolled, he grabbed Sunset by the ankle, yanking her off her feet so that she landed on her backside with a thump that she felt on her tailbone despite her aura.

Ren kept on rolling, rolling onto his knees, Stormflowers up.

Sunset’s hand glowed with telekinesis as she flung Sol Invictus at him like a javelin, guiding it bayonet-first into his chest hard enough to toss him backwards and onto his back.

Sunset leapt up, drawing Soteria across her back, but holding it in the grip of telekinesis, not her hands, which were both aglow by now with magic.

Ren, too, leapt upright, fire spraying from the muzzles of his Stormflowers as he blazed away at Sunset.

Sunset didn’t conjure a shield — she would have had to let go of either Sol Invictus or Soteria if she had — rather, she ran across the stage, ducking, feeling at least some of the bullets hit her but hoping that not too many did as she flung both of her weapons telekinetically at Ren. She slashed at him with Soteria. He parried with the blades on his pistols, but in so doing, he left himself open to Sol Invictus lunging at his back. He twisted out of the way, his body contorting, but with telekinesis, Sunset could, somewhat ironically, redirect the movement of her weapons more easily than if she were wielding them in her hands, so she was able to turn the rifle and hit him in the side with the barrel.

“Sunset, behind!” Ruby cried.

Sunset spun around. Behind her, Jaune had just taken a couple of hits from Yang straight to the chest that had knocked him on his back and across the stage; Akoúo̱ was lodged in one of Blake’s ice clones, and Pyrrha was locked in a furious battle with Blake, Miló in spear mode whirling in her grasp as Blake assailed her with sword and cleaver both; between Blake’s semblance and Pyrrha’s skill, neither was able to land a blow upon the other.

Of more immediate importance to Sunset, however, was the way that Nora was coming to Ren’s aid, hammer drawn back for a swing.

Ruby fired once more, shooting Nora in the back, staggering her mid-charge. Sunset retreated, conjuring a shield all around her to protect her from Nora in front and Ren behind.

Okay, I can distract the both of you, so long as Pyrrha can close the deal with Blake.

As Sunset thought this, Pyrrha lunged at Blake, spear drawn back for a thrust. Blake disappeared, the clone she left behind dissipating into shadow as Pyrrha charged through it, her red hair flying out behind her like a burning banner, rushing straight for the ice clone that Blake had left behind as part of an earlier evasion. Pyrrha’s brow was furrowed beneath her circlet, her jaw set, her expression firm as she ploughed into the ice statue shoulder first, shattering it beneath her impact, recovering her shield from the ruins as it fell to the ground.

Blake tried to catch her but was slowed by the need to evade fire from Ruby as Pyrrha charged towards Nora.

“Nora!” Blake yelled.

Nora barely had time to turn her head before Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at her, striking her on the back and partly on the side of her head, jolting her forwards with staggered steps.

Pyrrha did not recover the shield as she reached Nora; rather, she wrapped her free arm around the discomfited girl’s neck and hauled her backwards, wrenching her over Pyrrha’s head as Pyrrha’s own back contorted rearwards at a sharp angle, ploughing Nora headfirst into the floor of the stage which shattered beneath the impact.

Pyrrha leapt up, away from Nora, recovering Akoúo̱ and throwing it in moments to deflect the hook that Blake flung towards her legs, transforming Miló from spear into rifle to snap off two shots at Yang.

Miló transformed once more from rifle into sword as Pyrrha landed back in the midst of her foes.

Sunset dropped her shield as the pitter patter of running feet alerted her to the fact that Ren was making a run at her.

He slashed at her with the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers. Sunset caught the blow on her arm, taking the damage to her aura before she activated the lightning dust infused into her vambraces.

The lightning erupted from out of her jacket sleeve, snapping and crackling, snarling like some feral beast as it leapt towards Ren, rippling up his weapons and across his body, tearing at his aura. Ren gasped in pain, his body quivering.

Sunset hit him with a magical blast, point blank range, straight to the chest, sending him flying backwards and off the stage.

“Lie Ren is eliminated by ring out,” Weiss declared, her voice ringing out of the darkness.

Unfortunately, a cry from Jaune alerted Sunset to the fact that Yang had lost patience with him. In the dim light of the arena, Yang’s flames burned bright, her hair as pale as sunlight even before it was covered with a layer of flames, flames that covered her body too, as though she had covered herself in fire dust and ignited it. Thus all aflame, she pounded Jaune with her fists, wrenching his shield out of his grasp before hitting him once, twice, three times, the blows striking him in the gut, Ember Celica exploding with fire each time as Jaune was driven backwards towards the edge of the stage.

Jaune swung at her with Crocea Mors, the blade glowing as Jaune strengthened sword and sword-arm with his aura for a mighty swing.

Yang caught the blow one-handed, fingers closing around the sword as she wrenched it out of Jaune’s grip and tossed it aside.

Pyrrha tried to go to Jaune’s aid, but this time, Blake did not use a clone, but physically barred Pyrrha’s way; she paid for it, her aura dropping as Pyrrha slashed at her with Miló, struck at her with Akoúo̱’s edge, but she delayed Pyrrha more than a dissipating clone would have.

Sunset fired a blast of magic, striking Yang squarely on the back.

Yang grabbed Jaune by the scruff of his hoodie and with one hand — and a wild shout — turned and threw him at Sunset.

Sunset caught a glimpse of Yang’s eyes turned bright crimson before her view was obstructed by Jaune flying towards her, arms flailing.

Sunset caught him, just about, with the downside that she was knocked on her poor tailbone again as they landed in a heap together.

And Yang was bearing down upon the pair of them, eyes aglow, wreathed in flame.

There was a sound like a whimper out of the darkness beyond the stage.

“Amber!” Dove cried. “Amber, wait!”

It was the fire that had done it.

Amber hadn’t enjoyed watching them fight, up there on the stage. She hadn’t enjoyed watching their faces twisted with determination; she hadn’t enjoyed watching the bullets fly, watching the weapons swung with vicious abandon; she hadn’t liked watching the levels of their aura drop downwards. She hadn’t liked any of it, not one bit.

But it was the fire that had done it. She couldn’t stand the sight of the flames, the horrid flames that sprung up all over Yang. She couldn’t stand the way she burned so brightly. Watching her burn, watching her fire, watching her eyes turn red, so bright and so cruel, watching her attack Jaune so viciously, then turn on Sunset too, it … it was too much.

As the flames rose up, all Amber could think of was Cinder, Cinder of the flames and the cruel eyes, Cinder standing over her while her allies held Amber still, looking at her with a tiger’s lack of pity.

And the flames, the flames that had enveloped her, the flames that she had ignited, the flames that had erupted all around Amber to burn away her aura and leave her vulnerable.

She could not bear the flames. In Yang’s face, she saw nought but Cinder.

She could not bear it, she would not endure it, she could not stay. It had been hard enough before, but this? No, no, she had to get out of there; she could not stay, not for one second more.

And so she ran, fleeing from the amphitheatre, bursting out into the sunlight, heedless of the cries of Dove and the others, she ran and ran, and she kept running as her sides stitched up, as her legs ached, as the pain of cramped muscles flared up everywhere protesting this harsh usage.

But she ran all the same because she could not bear to stay.

Not for one moment more.

She ran from the amphitheatre, she ran from the school, she ran through the courtyard, passed the statue of the huntsman and the snarling beowolf, she ran and ran, ignoring the hue and cry that had been raised for her, ignoring the voices calling out her name, she ran and ran until she reached the farm, the isolated and out of the way farm, the halfway secret place that Ruby knew, the place where they had spent last night, quiet and isolated.

There she ran, and there she fell, down on the ground, her body wracked with trembling, her muscles aching, her lungs straining. There she fell, on the ground, not sitting on the bench but with her back leaning against it.

There was no fire here, there was no Yang, no Cinder, nothing but chickens and that lazy goat, but still … still, she could see the flames, still, she could see Cinder and Yang, the two of them mingling together so that Cinder’s eyes were red as she stood over Amber, while Yang enveloped Jaune in flames instead of herself.

She did not want to be here. Dove was here, and Dove was wonderful, Team SAPR were wonderful too, Sunset and Pyrrha, Jaune and Ruby too, although she knew them less well, and she was fond of Lyra and Bon Bon also, and Ciel … they were good people here, kind hearts and brave, and in any other place, she would cherish their company and their friendship, but this place … she did not want to be here. She didn’t want to go into hiding, she didn’t want Ozpin to stuff her away into a dark hole where she could not escape, but she didn’t want to be here either, with these warriors, with these weapons, with these horrible things that…

How could any of them stand it? Pyrrha, Sunset, Ciel, Blake, any of them. How could they be here? Didn’t they know that they were all going to die? That there was no victory? Ozpin would kill them all, and she would be hunted, and Dove too, and … and there was nothing that she could do about it. It was her fate. It had been chosen for her, it was set in stone now, the Maiden powers were a prison she could not leave behind.

It was something none of these brave friends could protect her from.

Pyrrha had promised to protect her, by her life or her death. But Pyrrha’s death would not protect her. Pyrrha couldn’t keep her safe, nor Sunset, nor any of the rest of them.

It was all hopeless, and the worst … she had got Dove involved in this too.

If I was a good, kind girl, I would send him away.

But I’m not good, and I’m not kind; I’m selfish and lonely, and I want to love and be loved.

And it would kill him too, as it would kill her.

A rose petal, a single rose petal as red as blood, floated down from the sky above to land upon the wooden bench behind her.

“Amber!” Ruby cried, suddenly standing over her. Amber did not know whence she had come; she hadn’t heard her, but there she was. “Found you.”

“Ruby,” Amber murmured.

“I thought you might come here,” Ruby said. “You seemed to like it here last night.”

“It’s quiet, and peaceful,” Amber said softly. “And alone.”

Ruby was quiet for a moment or two; she sat down next to Amber, sitting upon the hem of her cloak.

“There … there are a lot of times when we shouldn’t be alone,” she said. “There are even more times when you shouldn’t be alone.”

“Because I am the Fall Maiden,” Amber said.

“That’s right,” Ruby answered. “Because you’re important. Well, I mean, everyone’s important, but you … you’re … you’re in danger, because you’re the Fall Maiden, and if…”

And if Cinder got the rest of my magic, then it would be terrible, Amber thought.

“Why did you run?” asked Ruby.

Amber hesitated.

Ruby shuffled a little closer to her, so their shoulders were almost touching.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever it is, you can say it. Whatever we did, if we did anything, then we can make sure that we don’t do it again. Was it the fighting?”

“It was the flames,” Amber said. “I … I didn’t like the fighting, but the flames … when I saw Yang … all I could think of was … it frightened me.”

“Yang’s semblance does look kind of scary,” Ruby admitted. “Especially when her eyes change colour.” She giggled. “When I was a kid, she used to hide in my closet and jump out at me with her eyes turned red like that; it used to scare the pants off me, especially when she did it before I could turn the lights on.”

“That sounds…” Amber trailed off, unable to say how it sounded because it sounded quite frankly horrible.

“It was fine,” Ruby assured. “It was just sister stuff. I got my own back on her by eating cookies in her bed and leaving crumbs everywhere.” She smiled, as though this was supposed to make Amber laugh.

It didn’t. She failed to see the funny side of it.

The smile faded from Ruby’s face.

“Anyway,” she went on, “even though Yang can look scary with her semblance, she’s actually a really kind person, warm and caring. She would never set out to make you feel afraid.”

“Because I’m not her sister,” Amber murmured.

“Um … well, I … not exactly,” Ruby said. “She doesn’t scare me anymore either.”

“I imagine you’re too brave to be scared,” Amber said, looking at Ruby. “You must be brave, to be here.”

Ruby stared at her for a second. A faint blush of colour rose to her cheeks. “I mean… I’d like to think so.”

“I think so,” Amber repeated. “I think you’re all so terribly brave.” She paused for a moment. “Are you afraid of anything, Ruby?”

“Lots of things,” Ruby replied. “Failure, people dying because I screwed up, because I couldn’t do what had to be done. Letting people down. Letting my mom down.”

“Those are very brave things to be afraid of,” Amber told her. “You’re not afraid of dying?”

“No,” Ruby said at once. “Not at all.”

“'Not at all'?”

Ruby shook her head. “We all die sooner or later, and huntresses sooner than later, or sooner than most. Dying’s not the hard part, or the part that I worry about. I…” She looked away. “I worry about not living a worthy enough life before I die, but the dying? That doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Brave,” Amber whispered. “Brave new world.”

“'New'?” Ruby repeated. “Nah, I don’t think it’s new. I think these are good, old-fashioned values, like Olivia and Percy would recognise.”

“They’re new to me,” Amber replied. “My … my mother told me that if I was kind, I’d leave Dove be. That was after she found out about him obviously. She told me that if he was involved with me, he would only be involved in things that would hurt him. That if I was kind, if I cared about him, I’d let him go. But I didn’t let him go, because I’m not kind—”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Ruby said. “I think … I can see what your mom meant, but she didn’t explain to you what she meant. Were you supposed to figure it out? Take her word for it? I think … I think that if you can find joy and love and happiness in your life while you can, then that’s a good thing, provided that you don’t lose your sense of what really matters because of it.”

“You don’t think that love is what really matters?” asked Amber.

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I … maybe it is for some people,” she said. “But if you let it blind you to duty, to right and wrong, if you let it cause you to make terrible decisions … it’s possible to love too much. There are more important things than whether we’re happy.”

“Why?” Amber asked. “Why don’t we deserve to be happy?”

“Because … because I chose this,” Ruby replied. “I chose this road, I chose to put my life on the line and dedicate it to protecting others, I don’t get to do that and then complain that I don’t also get to have a perfect life filled with ordinary happiness as well. If that’s what I wanted, I shouldn’t have come to Beacon.”

“But you chose this,” Amber said. “I never did. I didn’t want to come to Beacon, I didn’t want to become Fall Maiden, nobody asked me, Ozpin never asked if I wanted this, any of this, he just … it just happened. Because my mother loved me enough to think of me with her last thoughts, or hated me enough.”

“I’m sure she didn’t hate you—”

“Then why did she curse me like this?” asked Amber. “Why did she make me this way, this … this thing they hunt?”

“We can—”

“You can’t protect me, none of you can!” Amber cried. “You’re all going to die, and maybe you can accept that, but I … I can’t. I just can’t. Now that they know who I am … to be a Maiden is to die. Everyday, a little death in darkness until one day … the final death. Maybe…” She closed her eyes. “If I was brave, like you, like all of you, if I was brave, then I could bear that. I could bear it for the greater good, for duty, for the sake of everyone else. But I’m not brave. I’m frightened, and I want to live.”

“I’m frightened, and I want to live.”

Bon Bon hadn’t been sure at first why she was hiding. She had followed Ruby looking for Amber, because Ruby seemed to know where she was going, and because Bon Bon wanted to make sure that Tempest hadn’t found Amber while she was out of sight of any other protectors. But when she’d caught up with Ruby, at this place that she hadn’t even known existed, and seen Amber there … she had been about to turn away, satisfied that Amber was found and safe, maybe let Dove know about it. She had no desire to pry into what passed between the two of them.

Then she had heard some of it. Just a snatch, but it had been enough to give her pause, to make her crouch down behind this bush so that she could hear more.

Amber was frightened. Well might she be frightened, all things considered, but to hear her confess it … no Beacon student would have spoken like this. Even if they had felt it, then pride and bravado would have made them put a false front for fear of being disdained, regarded as pathetic. But Amber wasn’t a Beacon student. She was the Fall Maiden, and she had been trained to fight, but she hadn’t chosen to be a warrior, a protector of the people, or even a servant of Salem and Doctor Watts; she had chosen none of this, none of the risk or the sacrifice.

Yet the risks were hers nonetheless, and the sacrifice … she feared the sacrifice would be her end.

For Dove’s sake, Bon Bon would try to protect her from that, but the best that she could do was to stall Tempest.

No, not quite; she could stop being such a coward herself and actually out Tempest, and in the exposure, expose herself, but … but Tempest was only one person. Cinder was still out there, and Salem could always recruit others once Tempest was gone: other cruel, ambitious, or simply foolish people who thought they deserved more than life had given them.

People like Tempest, people like Cinder, people like Bon Bon.

If only there was some way that Amber could be made safe, protected for good.

If there was, then Bon Bon — and Amber too, she thought — would take it in a heartbeat.

If only she could see a way.

Prowling the Streets (New)

Prowling the Streets

"So, there isn't a table?" Blake asked.

Mom shrugged apologetically. "There are rather a lot of you," she pointed out. "Which isn't a criticism, by any means, I'm delighted to meet all your friends; it's just that I'm told a table for nine would be a difficult fit at the best of times, and, well, what with so many tourists in Vale for the tournament, these are not the best of times."

Blake supposed that she could understand that, but even so, she would have thought that Mom could have gotten a table in the restaurant of the hotel at which she was staying. But then, of course, the hotels would be full up too as part of the influx of visitors from across Remnant, drawn — despite the shock of the Breach, or perhaps reassured by the measures that Councillor Emerald had announced in response, or by the presence of General Ironwood's forces — by the allure of the Vytal Festival.

As a result, the nine of them — Blake, her mother, Sun, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Sunset, Weiss, Starlight, and Trixie — were stood outside of the large, towering hotel where Mom was staying. It was not one of Vale's grandest hotels with a proud pedigree — Mom might be the High Chieftain's wife, and on Menagerie, that might come with many perks, but it didn't make her rich by the standards of the world beyond Menagerie — it looked too modern for that, a building in the new, featureless style, all plain walls and large windows rising up into the night sky. The name, Traveller's Rest, made Blake think that it might be part of a chain of hotels, all identically named. Nevertheless, it looked reasonable enough, it wasn't obviously disgusting to look in through the large, glass, automatic doors, and looking through the windows into the restaurant, it did seem to be quite full. Whoever had told Mom that they couldn't fit her party in did not seem to have been being disingenuous.

Not that that was much consolation to anyone standing outside in the darkness of night, as the light of the stars above mingled with the lights of the warships, Atlesian and Valish and Mistralian all alike that were crowding up the sky and blocking the stars, shining their counterfeit lights down on Vale in place of the celestial illuminations. How many people consciously looked up at those lights and felt safer about coming to Vale for the Vytal Festival because of their presence, Blake wondered, and how many people simply felt instinctively more secure as a result?

Mom hadn't changed, probably because she'd travelled quite light, but everyone else was wearing something a little different.

Rainbow Dash was wearing what she referred to as the dress whites, which meant that all trace of grey had been banished from her Atlas uniform: in place of her grey waistcoat, she wore a crisp, white, long-sleeved jacket, with her red aiguillette looping adding a splash of colour as it looped around her right sleeve before disappearing under one of the silver epaulettes that sat upon her shoulders; her skirt, too, was white, and so too the white stockings that she wore and might well have been glad of in this chill air; even her hands were enclosed beneath a pair of white gloves; the only things about her that were not white — aside from her skin and hair, obviously — were the black shoes on her feet and the black tie, the beginnings of which were just about visible before it disappeared beneath her jacket.

Twilight had pinned her hair up into a high bun, visibly rising above her head, with only a pair of strands of hair falling down on either side of her face to frame her cheeks. She was dressed in a light blue blouse with a collar — around which she was wearing a moderately-sized pink bow, like a bow tie, but bigger and more bow-ish — and short puffed sleeves which, unfortunately in the current circumstances, left most of her arms bare and exposed to view; her skirt was lavender and a little longer than thigh length, with her emblem of the six-pointed star emblazoned upon one side. Her socks were a light lilac colour and went up to just beneath her knees, which might have felt as much of a chill as her arms were doing. Her shoes were black, with a pink border around them, and high heeled, adding some inches to her height; there were sparkling crystal buckles on the toes.

Sun … well, it was easy to see what Neptune had done. What Neptune had done, in point of fact, seemed to mostly have been lent Sun his clothes; fortunately, they were so similar in size that any poor fit was not noticeable, but that didn't mean that Sun looked at ease in an ocean blue jacket with white and turquoise trim around the cuffs, a pair of pristine white pants, or the red shirt with blue tie that he had on beneath the jacket. The only thing Sun was wearing that appeared to be actually his were his yellow trainers, which rather stood out against the rest of what he had on.

Sunset was wearing an emerald cocktail dress of a shimmering fabric, even in the darkness outside the hotel; it had a V-neckline that was low enough to begin to reveal without going on to reveal too much and a skirt which flared outwards from the waist before ending around her knees. A couple of inches of translucent black lace descended just below the hem of the skirt and covered Sunset's chest and shoulders from the neckline and the sleeves that Blake couldn't see to her neck, ending in what looked like a black choker fastened around her throat. Blake couldn't see the sleeves, but whatever they were, they were sufficiently unobtrusive that Sunset was able to wear her leather jacket over the top of it. Over her hands, emerging from beneath her jacket sleeves, she still wore her white gloves.

Weiss had chosen to change her outfit but not to dress up; in fact, since she was wearing the same thing that she had worn to assist Blake and Rainbow Dash in Low Town — the white double-breasted coat and flaring skirt with black petticoats, the white boots that rose higher than her knees; the only thing different was that she had shorted the length of her black stockings, which now ended just above the top of her boots and left her lower thighs exposed — one might almost say that she was dressing down for the occasion. Nevertheless, she still managed to wear it in such a way as to imply a class not borne out by the garments themselves, and she had changed clothes, after all.

Trixie was dressed all in blue, a dark blue bodice with a square neckline and long sleeves that were more of a midnight blue, with ever so slightly puffed shoulders. Her skirt was knee length and of the same shade as her sleeves. It all looked rather plain, but Trixie made up for that; first with the light purple cape around her neck, descending to below the level of her skirt and decorated with a riot of stars, gold, silver, shades of blue, all sparkling even in the light from the street lights on the pavement; and second with her incredibly chunky boots that were a deep, dark blue, high heeled, and looked thick and heavy enough to be used as clubs in an emergency. A purple band ran around the ankle of each boot, decorated with three silver stars in front and fastening at the back with golden buckles, while the tops of her boots folded downwards like the collar of a shirt, with purple amethysts set in gold — or the appearance of gold — pinned to the top.

Starlight Glimmer had joined Rainbow Dash in wearing the Atlesian dress whites, with the only differences being the lack of any sort of aiguillette and the fact that her stockings were jet black as opposed to white. Blake thought the contrast might work better than the continuity.

As for Blake herself, she hadn't bothered to change. She didn't see why she needed to; after all, while her mom might be Lady Belladonna, ma'am, the High Chieftainess, or their girlfriend's mother to the rest of the group gathered here, shivering outside, to Blake, she was just … her mom. A mother with whom, after everything that Blake had done, after everything that she'd been through, after everything that had passed between them, she was probably past the point of being able to impress by dressing well.

The one concession Blake had made to altering her appearance in any way was to tie her long, wild black hair back into a ponytail, which hung down behind her almost to her waist. Blake … couldn't say she liked it. It might work for Pyrrha — or Ilia, for that matter — but it wasn't working for her, at least in her own opinion. Sun had said it was cute, but he was either lying to be nice, or he was mistaken. Still, at least it looked as though she had made some little effort to change things up.

"Never mind, ma'am," Rainbow said. "I'm sure we'll find somewhere that can fit us in."

"You'd certainly hope so, in a city this size," Mom replied, smiling somewhat. "If anyone has any ideas, lead the way."

"I checked a few places before we came down here, just in case we had any trouble," Twilight murmured. "Not that I … just in case. As a backup."

"And you found somewhere?" Rainbow asked.

"There were a couple of places that seemed nice," Twilight replied. "Unfortunately, I didn't try to actually book us a table, but hopefully, they'll be able to find us somewhere."

"As I said," Mom said, "lead the way."

"Right," Twilight said, nodding her head. She got out her scroll, her slight and nimble fingers tapping on the scroll once, twice, three times. "The closest place … let's see if I can book us a table … no, they don't have anything free right now."

"With luck, they'll be keeping some tables free for walk-ins," Mom said. "We may as well head there anyway and find out; it's as good as standing around out here, isn't it?"

"Okay," Twilight said, sounding not too confident about Mom's assessment. Blake wasn't too confident about it either, but she had a point that they might as well get on the move as stand here in front of this hotel all night.

"It's this way," Twilight said, gesturing to her left. She began to walk in that direction, walking past Trixie and Starlight in order to do so.

Rainbow followed, undoing the top button of her jacket for some reason, and everyone else present began to flow in that direction.

"Blake?" Mom asked quietly, as she did not immediately join the others. Rather, she moved closer to Blake, leaning in a little bit to speak in a hushed voice. "Your friends are all very deferential. Are you sure they're your friends and not your sycophants?"

Blake smiled softly, even as a snort escaped her nostrils. "It's not me, Mom, it's you. The Atlesians are taught manners on the curriculum, and Sunset's a snob, and frankly a bit of a bootlicker to the aristocracy — or at least to their parents; I don't seem to count in her eyes, and even Pyrrha counts less than her mother." At least, Blake had never caught Sunset referring to her as 'Lady Pyrrha' the way that she so fastidiously referred to Pyrrha's mother as 'Lady Nikos.' Perhaps familiarity bred … not contempt, but an erosion of deference in her eyes. Or perhaps it was merely that she would not force titles on those who would not want them. "The point is, they are my friends. They're just your sycophants."

"Except for Sun," Mom pointed out.

Blake's smile became a little wider, and a little less soft. "Sun is from Vacuo," she reminded her mother. "They do things differently there."

"Do things better, perhaps," Mom suggested. "Are you sure that Atlas is where you want to go?"

"They're courteous, Mom; they're not bad people," Blake said.

"I never said they were; I like Rainbow already," Mom declared. "I'm just not sure I'd want to live with the stuffiness all the time."

Blake chuckled. "Well, fortunately, you don't have to." She took her mother by the shoulder and turned her in the direction in which the others had begun to move. "Now come on, before any of them start to wonder why you're still standing here."

As a matter of fact, Sun appeared to have already noticed, having stopped to wait for them, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white pants as she did so. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"It's fine," Blake assured him. "But thanks for checking."

"So," Mom said, raising her voice as they caught up with the others. "I know most of you already, which means that you must be … well, one of you is Starlight Glimmer and the other—"

"The Grrrrrrreat and Powerful Trrrrrixie at your service!" Trixie said, turning elegantly on her toe and beginning to walk backwards down the street even as she bowed to Blake's mother.

"Which would make me Starlight," Starlight said, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"The pleasure is all mine, meeting my daughter's friends," Mom said. "I'm so glad she has some; she was such a moody, lonely child."

Blake groaned wordlessly. "Rainbow Dash?"

"Yeah?"

"I might have to take my revenge on you for this."

Rainbow laughed. "Your parents can embarrass you for a few hours at a time, Blake, but they can love you for their whole lives."

"Perhaps I should have brought your parents with me," Mom said.

"I'm glad you didn't make me practise what I preach, ma'am," Rainbow said, smoothly and without a trace of shame.

As they walked down the street, cars whizzing past them on their way to somewhere or other, Mom said, “So, have you all fought alongside Blake?”

“'Fighting' is a bit of a strong word, in my case,” Twilight replied. “But everyone else … yeah, I think so.”

“If there’s anyone here besides Twilight who hasn’t fought with Blake, then stick your hand in the air,” Sun said.

Nobody raised their hands.

“Comrades in arms,” Mom murmured. “Not the life that I envisaged, but … better than a lonely life, I suppose.” She smiled. “Much better than being lonely.”

Sunset smirked. “Of course, if we were to use a different definition of ‘fighting with Blake,’ then how many people here could raise their hands for having not done so?”

“If you mean what I think you mean,” Starlight said, sticking her hand in the air.

Twilight also raised her hand.

Sun half-raised his. “I mean, what counts as a fight?”

“I think the other person has to be there for it to count as a fight; you can’t just stew in their absence,” Sunset informed him.

“Oh,” Sun said. “Cool.” He lowered his hand.

Mom’s eyebrows rose. “All the rest of you have…”

“I … may have gotten off to something of a rough start,” Blake admitted, turning her face away and giving serious consideration to leaving a clone of herself behind while she scarpered back to Beacon.

Except Rainbow would probably just fly Mom up there to talk to her about this.

“I see,” Mom murmured. “Except I don’t, which makes me think that I’m going to need to hear a lot more details than I’ve gotten so far about all of this, starting … well,” — she looked around, her skirts swishing a little as she turned while she walked, casting her golden gaze around the assembled group — “I’m afraid I’m going to have to rely on you to tell me exactly where the beginning is. How did all of this start, this road that led Blake to Atlas, this rough start that made you all so fond of her?”

A moment of silence descended on the company. If they were all wondering where they ought to begin, and how much they could or should or wanted to say, then their thoughts were only mirroring those of Blake herself, who didn’t really want to tell her mother the whole story, even the bits that weren’t secret, because … well, because it was kind of embarrassing in places. Despite how far she had come, despite the esteem in which Rainbow and the other Atlesians held her, the fact remained that she had not covered herself in glory in the early days at Beacon, and she was not particularly keen to revisit that with her mother.

She decided to take the initiative, before anyone else could do it for her. “I had a quiet first few weeks at Beacon—”

“Well,” Sunset said, cutting her off almost immediately, “that isn’t entirely true, is it?”

Blake honestly had no idea what she was referring to; her time at Beacon had been entirely placid and uneventful until Rainbow Dash had shown up; it was a little funny to think that if Penny hadn’t run away to Vale and forced Team RSPT to come and get her, then she, Blake, might have remained the leader of Team BLBL all year.

And nobody would have stopped the White Fang from robbing the dust at the docks.

Everything might have been peaceful — or Vale might have been overrun on the Breach.

Either way, it’s all because of a curious girl with a yearning to be free.

On such things do the fates of kingdoms turn.

Take that, socio-economic forces of history!

Although I doubt Sienna will be pleased by the vindication of Great Man history.

She said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the first time you went out of your way to put yourself in harm’s way,” Sunset said. “During the … leadership exercise, for want of a better word.”

“Oh,” Blake. “Oh, that … that wasn’t—”

“I don’t think I know this story,” Rainbow said.

“Okay,” Sunset said, putting one hand into the pocket of her jacket, even as she gestured with the other, holding it about level with her face, turning back and forwards as she walked so that she was looking at everyone, her eyes meeting theirs, “there was a grimm horde moving towards Vale—”

“A different grimm horde, I take it, to the one that the White Fang planned to loose on the city?” Mom asked.

“Yes, Mom, a different one.”

“How many grimm hordes have you had to deal with?” asked Mom, concern in her voice.

“It was only a small horde, level one,” Sunset assured her.

“Still,” Starlight said, “a horde is a horde. But what does this have to do with Blake?”

“Because we had to go and deal with it,” Weiss said. “'We' being the team leaders, which at that time included Blake.”

There was a moment of silence from the Atlas students.

“So,” Starlight said, “you got plucked out of your teams and sent … where, exactly?”

“The Emerald Forest,” Blake replied.

“You got plucked out of your teams and sent into the Emerald Forest to fight an approaching grimm horde.”

“A level one grimm horde,” Blake insisted.

“A horde, as I said, is a horde,” Starlight declared. “That … how is taking you away from your teams supposed to teach you anything about leadership?”

“We were supposed to work together, without just barking orders at people who felt they had to obey,” Blake said. “That, in itself, teaches something about interpersonal dynamics, how to obtain consent or obedience, how to make plans that command confidence—”

“Did it work?” asked Twilight.

“It doesn’t matter if it works or not; it was reckless,” Starlight said. “I would not have allowed that.”

Trixie chuckled. “Trixie appreciates the concern, provided it stays on the right side of patronising, but I’m not sure you would have had much choice.”

“So you never do anything like that in Atlas?” Mom asked.

“Beacon does more fieldwork than any other academy, ma’am,” Weiss said. “That’s one of the reasons why it’s the best.”

“Really?” Rainbow said. “Really?”

Weiss didn’t say anything, but there was a faint smile upon her face.

“What would Atlas or Haven have done in that situation?” asked Mom.

“I don’t know if I’ve been at Haven long enough to say what Haven would have done in that situation,” Sun admitted. “Maybe … I don’t think they would have done that; I’m not sure that students would have been used at all—”

“Students were used when one grimm roamed too close to Mistral for comfort,” Sunset pointed out. “Although from what Professor Lionheart said, that was only as a last resort, due to the shortage of huntsmen present in Mistral at the time. I think that under better circumstances, Lady Terri-Belle would have led out her forces to confront the grimm, as Professor Ozpin once led out the huntsmen of Vale after Mountain Glenn.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Sun agreed. “Professor Lionheart did say that we wouldn’t be doing any fieldwork until the end of the second semester at Beacon at the earliest. That was one of the reasons why I left; being stuck in the classroom listening to Professor Mars talk into the blackboard about old Mistralian history sounded really boring.”

“In Atlas,” Rainbow said. “Well … it would depend upon a few things really: availability of air assets, the exact path the horde was going to take. In cases where a settlement is vulnerable…” She trailed off, and her head dropped forward a little bit. “In cases where a settlement is vulnerable, students are sometimes deployed to assist in evacuation efforts, but not as a front line force.” She paused, and Blake guessed that she was thinking about Kotetsu, General Ironwood’s son, and how he had lost his life in just such a support role, a role which wasn’t supposed to put him on the front line but the front line had found him anyway. “That’s not to say that stuff doesn’t happen: surprises, accidents … mistakes. But it wouldn’t be done intentionally. First preference is to smash them up from the air if possible.”

“I feel, even though I’m not actually from Vale, that I should point out that there was a warship standing by,” Sunset said, “and military forces.”

“Then why didn’t they use them?” asked Starlight.

“Because it was an exercise for us,” Sunset said. “Now, can I go back to telling the story, or do you have more points to make about how wonderful Atlas is?”

“Please,” Twilight said, “go on.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” Sunset said. “As I was saying, we team leaders were set down in the Emerald Forest. Now, most of the leaders of our cohort moved forwards to confront the grimm, but Weiss, Blake, Yang, and I, we decided to—”

“Be too clever for our own good,” Blake muttered, because if she was going to be dragged through the mud over this, then Sunset was going to share in it.

Sunset paused a second. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, it was … yes, it was too clever of us. Of me.”

“What did you do?” asked Rainbow.

“We decided that instead of meeting the grimm head on in a battle we couldn’t possibly win, we would work our way around the flank of the horde and try and take out the apex alpha,” said Sunset.

Trixie whistled. “That was bold.”

“That was reckless,” Rainbow said. “You could have got yourselves in a lot of trouble.”

“Mmm,” Weiss murmured. “Nevertheless, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Although this doesn’t seem like a story in which Blake bears greater culpability than the rest of you,” Mom pointed out.

“Not yet,” Sunset said. “You see, we did manage to avoid the rest of the grimm, we worked our way around the horde without being spotted by any outriders, and we even came upon the apex alpha, the four of us.”

“Apex alphas are heavily guarded,” Starlight pointed out. “They surrounded themselves with powerful grimm; some of them are alphas in their own right.”

“That’s why I did—”

“Something rash—”

“Something necessary,” Blake insisted. “Someone had to draw off some of the apex alpha’s bodyguards, and I thought that I had a better chance of doing that and staying ahead of the grimm than Sunset, Weiss, or Yang. My semblance makes me uniquely suited for evasion, and I’m fast and nimble. It wasn’t mere recklessness; it was a calculated decision based on the necessity of the moment.”

So long as Rainbow doesn’t tell Mom about the time I said I wished Neon had blown my head off, I should be able to get away with presenting my reputation as overblown.

And, to be fair to myself, I wouldn’t wish that nowadays. I’ve changed since then, so she doesn’t need to know about it.

“That is as may be, but you still scared us for a little bit,” Sunset said.

“What happened?” Mom asked, sounding a little anxious even though the proof of the happy ending was the fact that Blake was standing right there, whole and entire.

“We killed the apex alpha, causing the grimm horde to begin to dissolve, although the remnants of it remained in the Emerald Forest for some time,” Weiss said. “But … Blake’s decision may have been reckless, but we were all reckless; we got ourselves into a situation from which we had no escape plan; if Professor Goodwitch hadn’t been monitoring us, then we would have been in a lot of trouble. In some ways, Blake performed the best of all of us; she wasn’t there for the kill, but she did manage to find her way back to safety without being picked up.”

“You outran all those grimm, on your own?” Rainbow demanded. “You definitely didn’t tell me that.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it’s really awesome, that’s why!”

Blake shrugged. “I’m not one to boast.”

“You won’t fit in in Atlas with that attitude,” Weiss muttered, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice.

“So why did the four of you decide to go after the apex grimm?” asked Mom. “Why didn’t you go with the others to meet the horde head on? What made you do it?”

The three of them who had been there — Sunset, Weiss, and Blake, minus the absent Yang — were all momentarily quiet.

“None of us here can speak for Yang,” Blake said, “but—”

“Personally, I’m afraid to say that it was for the glory,” Sunset confessed. “I wanted to make my reputation, and how better to do that than by cutting the head off a grimm horde, even a small one?”

“I wouldn’t put it so crudely,” Weiss murmured, “but I would probably say the same thing with different words. I … whatever you may think about my family, ma’am, to me, the name of Schnee, descending as it does from Nicholas my grandfather, who tamed the wilds and brought nature itself under our control, is a great burden to live up to. I wished to do some great deed that would demonstrate my worth in that regard.”

“I…” Blake hesitated. “It sounds … I supposed I’d forgotten about the Valish destroyer or the defence forces; I thought … I was genuinely worried about what might happen to Vale if the grimm horde continued on its way. And so, to stop the horde, to keep the grimm mired in the Emerald Forest, that, for me, was worth the risk.”

“Sure, make the two of us sound really bad by comparison,” Sunset said, rolling her eyes.

Rainbow grinned. “Well, when you put it like that, it makes it really hard to condemn you.”

“You’re so brave and so selfless,” Sun told her, rubbing her back and up and down with one hand. “Are you even real?”

Blake chuckled. “Yes, Sun, yes, I am quite real.”

“Some of the most rrrrrreal people in the world are also the most extraordinary,” Trixie declared. “Like the Grrrrreat and Powerful Trrrrrixie.” She smiled. “Or the Brrrrave and Selfless Blake Belladonna!”

“I am not calling myself that,” Blake said flatly.

“I don’t know,” said Mom. “I think it has a certain ring to it.”

“Mom!”

“Do you think it’s better or worse than the Warrior Princess of Menagerie?” asked Twilight.

“Can I say I think they’re both equally bad?” asked Blake.

“Warrior Princess? Now, I like that,” Mom said, “Although I should point out that Menagerie isn’t a hereditary monarchy, so Blake won’t automatically inherit the title of High Chieftain once her father dies.”

“Which won’t be for many years yet, in any case,” Blake said.

“That’s probably for the best, what with Blake coming to Atlas and all,” Rainbow said. “But who will be the next High Chieftain, ma’am?”

“My father is still in very good health,” Blake said. “Isn’t he?”

Mom nodded. “Oh, yes, of course, dear; your father’s fine; I wouldn’t have left him if he wasn’t. As for who will succeed him … well, as Blake said, it’s early days at this stage; I’m sure that Ghira will attempt to groom a successor, someone he feels has the strength of character to be a good ruler for our people, but ultimately, the people themselves will decide who will rule over them. Ghira’s dying voice will carry some weight, but nothing is certain.”

“You mean there’ll be an election?” Rainbow asked. “Like for the Council?”

“It sounds more informal than that,” Sunset said.

“Quite,” Mom agreed. “Those who wish to be High Chieftain will present themselves, or be presented, before an assembly of the people of Menagerie, who will cry out for the High Chieftain that they desire.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to pick the next High Chieftain with a shouting match?”

“It is the old way,” Sunset said. “Or an old way, at least.”

“I think we’re almost at the restaurant,” Twilight announced. “The new restaurant, anyway. Let’s hope that they can fit us in.”

It turned out that they could not, in fact, fit them in. The restaurant was already crowded; just standing huddled in the doorway before the desk, they could see how crowded it was, how ram-packed with patrons; the sound of their conversation echoed to the ceiling and spilled out on the street behind them. The maitre’d apologetically informed them that they didn’t have a table, still less a table for nine, at least not now, possibly not at all tonight. The best he could offer was that if they waited an hour or so, then he might, might be able to fit them in.

And it was the same story, or much the same story at least, wherever they went. They trudged — certainly, it eventually came to feel like trudging, their steps heavy, their stomachs empty — through the city of Vale, searching for somewhere, anywhere in this whole city that might be able to seat and feed them.

Surely, in a city the size of Vale, there must be somewhere they could go to eat.

So, at least, you would have thought.

Twilight shivered from the cold as they walked across a pedestrianised square, with trees planted on the corners. Rainbow took off her jacket and draped it over Twilight’s shoulders like a cloak. Twilight smiled at her gratefully and, with one hand, grasped the jacket lapel and pulled it a little tighter around herself.

Everywhere they went, as the night sky grew darker, had no room for them. Some of them were obviously full up, they could tell that from looking; some of them were so obviously full up that the group didn’t even bother to go in, just looking in at the windows was enough to tell them that there was no chance of getting a table at some of these places.

Which was a pity, because some of them had nice-sounding menus.

Some of them did not look quite so full, although the staff insisted that they were, that any tables that might look empty were reserved for diners who were due to arrive at any moment; they might even have been telling the truth, although the way that their eyes flickered to the ears atop the heads of Blake, her mother, Rainbow, and Sunset, the way they looked at the tails of Sun and Sunset, made Blake think they might not have been entirely honest in the regard.

Some restaurateurs were honest with them, although it was hard to commend them for it.

“We don’t serve your kind in here, not anymore!” one woman snapped at them, flapping her hands to drive them from the doorway as though they were errant cats. “Not after what you did! I don’t know how you have the nerve to walk around here as though you own the place; clear out, all of you, and your damn Atlas friends! You northerners lie down with dogs, you’ll get fleas; clear off, we want none of you! Get out! And go back to the jungle you came from!”

Sadly, she wasn’t the only person to express such sentiments, either in refusing to serve Blake and her friends or just shouting at them as they passed on the street or in the square.

“Animals!”

“Murderers!”

“Atlas scum!”

“Go back where you came from!”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you!”

“Is it always like this?” asked Mom, her ears drooping. “I thought Vale was better than this.”

“It was,” Sunset replied. “It’s got worse recently.”

“This is why I didn’t want you to walk back to your hotel alone, ma’am,” Rainbow said.

“Yes,” Mom murmured. “Yes, I find myself glad that you insisted.” She paused, then seemed to make an effort to brighten visibly. “So, what happened next?”

“Ma’am?” asked Rainbow.

“You were telling me all about Blake and how you’d fought alongside her,” Mom reminded them. “What happened after that business with the grimm horde?”

“Then things went back to being quiet,” Blake said.

“Until we disturbed your peaceful life, is that it?” asked Twilight, smiling a little.

“More or less,” Blake admitted apologetically. “But please, don’t take that as me being ungrateful. If I hadn’t … well, I was just thinking that if you hadn’t arrived in Vale when you did, then a lot of things would have been very different.”

“Does this mean that we’re going to get to hear why you took your team to Beacon early, Rainbow Dash?” asked Trixie. “Trrrrrixie can hardly wait.”

“Is this some sort of secret?” asked Mom, sounding rather thrilled at the idea.

“It’s not a secret,” Rainbow assured her.

“It is to us,” Starlight pointed out. “A few weeks into semester, you bailed on us; next thing we know, it’s been announced that your secondment to Beacon has started early. So what happened?”

Rainbow shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Penny … Penny wasn’t happy at Atlas. In fact, she was so unhappy at Atlas that she’s transferring to Beacon next year, but nobody was ready to take that step then, so … she stayed at Beacon for the year. Which I suppose should have been a pretty big clue as to how things would shake out, but … yeah, that’s it. It was for Penny, it was for… for her happiness, I guess you could say.”

That’s probably about all you can say without telling everyone what Penny really is, Blake thought.

“Is that why you didn’t invite Penny to join us?” Mom asked.

“Penny and I aren’t that close,” Blake said. “Even when I worked with Team Rosepetal, we never … we’re just not that close. We’re like … ships passing in the night; we have friends in common but that doesn’t make us friends. Penny … Penny is a friend of Team Sapphire. That’s … how I met Team Rosepetal.”

“Through Sunset and her team?”

“No, because Team Rosepetal was sitting with Team Sapphire when I came down for breakfast,” Blake said. “I … I don’t think that you need to hear again what happened between me and Rainbow Dash at first, and I don’t want to go over it.”

“Me neither, if it’s okay with you, ma’am,” Rainbow muttered. “I thought, I did some things that I’m not proud of, Blake and I have moved past all that, way past it, but … I’d rather not go over it all again.”

“We both made mistakes,and reacted with prejudice,” Blake said. “And we both learned better, to look deeper, to see further. I … I’m sure you’d much rather hear about how I first met Sun!”

It was like distracting a cat with a laser pointer. “Oh, yes, do tell.”

“It was about halfway through the first semester at Beacon,” Blake explained. “Weiss had heard a rumour that the Shade students would be arriving that day for the Vytal Festival—”

“That would have been a little early, wouldn’t it?” asked Starlight.

“I know, I was taken in, and I didn’t think it through,” Weiss admitted, “but I wanted to check out the competi— I mean, I wanted to welcome our guests from foreign shores.”

“Who’d want to welcome a Shade student anywhere?” Trixie asked mockingly.

Nobody answered her.

Blake went on. “So, Weiss dragged myself, Sunset, Yang, and Rainbow Dash down to the docks to see the Shade students arrive. As it turned out, there were no Shade students.” She glanced up at Sun. “But there was a certain Vacuo-born Haven student who had stowed away on a ship bound for Vale which had just docked on the same day.”

“A stowaway?” Mom asked, her tone making it unclear what exactly she thought of this revelation.

Sun laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head with one hand. “Well, Mrs. B, you see, the thing is—”

“You know, Blake’s father and I used to stow away all the time on ships travelling between Anima and Solitas in the early days,” Mom said.

“Really?” Sun and Blake said at the same time.

Mom nodded. “Especially before Blake was born; after I had a child, we tried to be a little bit more legitimate in how we moved around, but in those first years, when we’d just gotten together, when we were first married? Yes, we stowed away, we snuck onto liners without tickets and hid where we could, we slept in cargo holds; you have to understand that there wasn’t a lot of money in the White Fang in those days, and what donations we received went to support faunus in need. So, when it came to going to this kingdom or that kingdom, to make a speech or attend a rally, to lobby for change, we made do; we cut our cloth as short as it would go. That’s why, now that Ghira is the High Chieftain, I do my best to help faunus get to Menagerie if they wish to: because I remember when our travel options were limited and so were our means, and I hate to leave people trapped that way.”

“I’m sure that everyone appreciates it, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “I know that my parents do.”

Mom nodded in acknowledgement of Rainbow’s gratitude before she returned her attention to Sun. “So, is that what you meant about not wanting to spend time in class?”

Sun laughed again. “I … my feet were getting a little itchy, I suppose.”

“And are you sure your feet won’t get itchy in Mantle?” asked Mom.

“If they do, I’ll give them a scratch,” Blake said, with almost a purr in her voice.

“Thanks, Blake, because that was an image that I wanted,” Rainbow muttered.

“The point is,” Blake said, “that the first time I saw Sun was when he was running down the street having just leapt off the boat, pursued by a group of angry sailors and cops. That kind of thing … leaves an impression.”

“Although you were the only one on whom that particular kind of impression was made,” Weiss pointed out. “The rest of us were rather more preoccupied with Sun’s lawbreaking.”

“It’s a victimless crime!” Sun cried.

“You’ll note that the word ‘crime’ is still in that sentence,” Weiss pointed out to him. “I don’t deny that there are some people whose circumstances are so strained and their need is so great that they have no choice but to resort to such measures, but you … it wouldn’t have killed you to stay at Haven that semester, would it?”

“Maybe not, but I’m glad he did all the same,” declared Blake as she leaned against Sun. “Sun … was the only one who was there for me that night, when no one else was.”

“Because we couldn’t find you,” Sunset said. “We were looking.”

“Is this…?” Mom trailed off. “Is this when … when you first found out that Blake had—”

“We didn’t find out that Blake hadn’t been an Atlesian agent undercover with the White Fang for a while yet, ma’am,” Rainbow said quickly.

“Yeah, an Atlesian agent,” Starlight said, a knowing smile spreading upon her face. “Undercover with the White Fang as part of Operation Tissue Thin.”

“Starlight—”

“Come on, Dash, we’re all friends here, right?” asked Trixie. “And we’re not completely stupid. Speaking for herself, the story … Blake’s story, shall we say, in case anyone is listening, is … an inspiring one. To go from that … that to a true hero of Atlas! We’ll keep your secret; just don’t think that we don’t know that it’s a secret.” She winked at Blake.

Blake chuckled softly. “I suppose … thanks.”

“For what?” Starlight asked with deliberate disingenuousness.

Rainbow shook her head. “But yes, ma’am, that is where I found out who Blake had been … undercover with. Blake—”

“I ran away,” Blake said. “And while I was running away, I ran into Sun again, and he suggested that we ought to stake out the docks in case the White Fang tried to rob a large dust shipment that had just arrived.”

“It made sense to me at the time,” Sun added.

“And we did,” Blake said simply. “And that … that is how this whole adventure got started. The White Fang, Cinder, me being exposed as an … undercover agent, working with the Atlesians, deciding to go to Atlas … it all came down to that one day.”

“Sounds like fate,” Mom said. “But, if you’ll forgive me, Starlight, Trixie, I’m still not seeing how the two of you come into this.”

“We’ve been in the background,” Starlight admitted, “but we did have the honour of fighting alongside Blake on a mission to a little village called Badger’s Drift.”

“General Ironwood suggested I might like to see what other Atlas teams were like, besides Team Rosepetal,” Blake explained, “and so, I agreed to join Team Tsunami, and Twilight, when they went to check on a village where contact had been lost. We also got off to a rough start.”

“Every team leader has their own style,” Trixie declared. “It took Blake a little while to appreciate the unique style of the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie. Just as it took Trixie a little while to appreciate Blake’s own sterrrrrrling qualities.”

“Was everyone alright?” Mom asked. “In the village that had lost contact, I mean?”

“Most of them,” Starlight said. “We found them sheltering in some nearby caves. Blake delivered the coup de grace to the grimm that was threatening them. Carried the grenade herself to blow up the nexus of a rat-king.”

“Are you sure you don’t have a reckless streak, dear?” asked Blake’s mother.

“I’ve chosen a risky life, Mom,” Blake informed her, “and I do what I have to do to get the job done, to save lives.”

“And Blake has saved a lot of lives, ma’am,” Weiss added. “On her own or in part.”

It was shortly thereafter, after some time walking fruitlessly around Vale looking for somewhere with the will and the capacity to take them in, when it seemed that they had finally found somewhere: a hole in the wall place in just outside the boundaries of Vale’s Little Mistral, sandwiched between two other, larger establishments, with a scrawny-looking man standing outside with a handful of fliers in his hand.

“Good evening!” he called out to them as they approached. “Are you looking for somewhere to eat?”

“Is it that obvious?” asked Twilight.

“Just the place for you right here, three course meals for just twenty-five lien a head,” the young man said, holding out one of the fliers. He did not quite reach all the way to Twilight, who grasped the flier with her telekinetic semblance and pulled it into her hand.

“What about tonight?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you could fit a table of nine tonight?”

“Yes! Yes, we could, absolutely; just go right down, someone will help you get settled.”

The little gap, the hole in the wall, was a staircase that led down underground, into a basement with a beige carpet and a room that was half separated by a dividing wall, but with no door, just a doorway.

There were tables here, some large and some small, and all of them completely empty. Vale was heaving with hungry diners, so many of them that they were filling up all the other restaurants in town to the extent that Blake and her family and friends could not get a seat anywhere, but this place was empty.

Although perhaps there were other people here; they were just hidden on the other side of the wall.

And besides, it wasn’t as if everywhere else in Vale was completely full; some of them were just racists.

A young woman, about the same height as Ruby, with sandy brown hair, appeared, a smile fixed on her face. “Good evening ladies and gentleman, are you all together?”

“We are, yes,” Twilight said. “The man outside said—”

“Yes, yes, we can fit you in, no problems,” the girl said. “Just … oh, yeah, there’s a nice big table over there if you want it, that round one there.” She gestured to the corner, where there was indeed a large round table with room for ten.

“Perfect,” Twilight said, “thank you.”

“Great! Just sit yourselves down, and I’ll be back in a minute with your menus.” She turned, and bustled off.

They all sat down. Sunset took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. Twilight did likewise with Rainbow’s jacket. One by one, they pulled out their chairs and took their seats. The restaurant was silent; there was no canned music, nothing. No sound but what they would make themselves.

Mom began, “So, Weiss—”

“I’m not staying here!”

The voice that had spoken so loudly, and so harshly, belonged to a woman about the age of Blake’s mother, perhaps a little younger, a firm voice, with a somewhat strong accent, although perhaps the volume and the anger in her voice was making it seem stronger. It was coming from the other side of the wall, wafting in through the doorless doorway.

“Look at that,” she said, although to whom she was saying it, Blake couldn’t tell, perhaps the waitress. “That’s not cooked!”

“Well, I—”

“Some of this, I’ve got to say, some of this stuff that you’ve put here in front of this, it’s absolutely disgusting. You shouldn’t be serving food like this; it’s an absolute disgrace.”

“Madam—”

“I’m not paying for that. I’m not paying for it, and I’m not eating it. Come on, love; we’re not staying here.”

“But Mum!”

“No, we’re not staying here, we’ll find somewhere else; come on, grab your coat.” The woman’s voice rose again. “I wouldn’t serve a dog some of that.”

A woman bustled out through the doorway, leading by the hand a young boy in a bright blue raincoat. The woman herself cast an eye on Blake and the others where they sat. “I wouldn’t, if I were you,” she muttered, before leading her son past them all and up the stairs towards the exit.

There was a moment of quiet as the group at the table looked around.

“Do you guys want to go somewhere else?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Oh, Celestia, yes,” Sunset said.

Of course, once they had got up from their seats, and got out, and ignored the young man pleading with them to come back as they walked away, they were faced with the return of the fact, on the evidence, there really just wasn’t anywhere else to go.

“We could always go back to Beacon?” Sunset suggested. “I bet Benni Haven's could fit us in.”

“It’s hardly food for Lady Belladonna, is it?” Rainbow replied.

“Pyrrha’s eaten there,” Sunset pointed out.

“I doubt that Mom will mind,” Blake said. “Would you, Mom? They’re talking about the diner near Beacon.”

Mom didn’t answer; at least, she didn’t answer that question. Instead, putting one arm around Blake’s shoulder, she said, “You know, this reminds me of my very first date with your father.”

Blake blinked. “You and Dad?”

Mom laughed lightly. “You say that with such surprise, as if you thought that he and I leapt straight into marriage.”

“No, obviously not,” Blake said. “I just … I’ve never really … I suppose it didn’t help that by the time I was old enough to think about you and Dad getting together, you’d already gone to Menagerie.”

Mom smiled and drew Blake in a little closer to her. “Your father wasn’t quite the leader of the White Fang at the time; that would come a little later, although he was important. He’d come to meet with Sienna, who was still a professor at the University of Mistral at the time. And I was her teaching assistant.”

“You were a TA to Sienna—?” Twilight began, before she was hushed by Rainbow.

Mom bowed her head a moment as she laughed some more. “When he met me … it seemed incredible that this tongue-tied man standing in front of me with his face turning red could be a leading figure in the White Fang, the future of the movement. I mean, how was he going to make a speech when he couldn’t even say two words to me? But he kept coming back, day after day, to meet with Sienna. It was on about the fifth or sixth day that Sienna told me that he hadn’t had anything new to say or ask her about faunus history or her thoughts on the political situation since the second day at most and that he either repeated himself or … asked about me. And so, when he came on the seventh day, I said to him, ‘you know, if you want to ask me out, you should just go ahead and do it.’”

Blake smiled. “And what did Dad say?”

“He stood there, in front of me, looking down at me, and after a moment’s silence, he said, ‘Well, how about it?’” Mom chuckled. “And I told him to pick me up at seven. Which he did. Only it turned out that he didn’t have anything planned; poor boy had been so nervous that he hadn’t booked a restaurant, he hadn’t thought about where we’d go … he said he hadn’t wanted to lock me into something that I wouldn’t like, but … well, as with tonight, we found that because we weren’t locked into anything, there weren’t any doors that would open. And, as tonight I’m afraid to say, the fact that we were two faunus certainly didn’t help.”

Blake’s brow furrowed a little bit. “So what did you do?”

“A moonlit picnic,” Mom said. “We bought a couple of boxes of noodles from a ramen stand and found this delightful spot overlooking one of the waterfalls. And so we sat there, in the dark, watching the moonlight dapple on the water, listening to it babble by, looking at the city down below. Nice meals in classy establishments are all very well, but sometimes, all you need are noodles and good company.”

There were smiles on every face as she said that. Starlight put an arm on Trixie’s shoulder around her neck, drawing her in slightly. Twilight leaned against Rainbow’s side.

Sun reached out to take Blake’s hand.

“You know,” Sun said, “I think I might know a place where we can go.”

They couldn’t find a noodle stand, but they did find a van parked on the side of the road that was selling burgers, hot dogs, and fries, and so, they bought polythene boxes filled with warm, greasy burgers, the fat of which was turning the boxes wet and soggy from the inside out — regular burgers, cheeseburgers, bacon cheeseburgers, hot dogs, fries, fries with cheese, macaroni cheese, some of them had more than one box, piled up in their arms as they followed Sun through the streets, under the lights of streetlamps and under the much higher lights of the airships flying above, following him down to the docks, down to the very waterfront.

The very waterfront where they’d met.

“Moonlight on the water,” he declared, gesturing out to sea, where it was possible to see the moonlight like silver, like seafoam, topping the waves as they rose and fell, rose and fell, pulling outwards from the city, out towards the open ocean.

Out, like the first faunus called to the island by the God of Animals, if you believed in such things.

“Moonlight on the water,” Twilight repeated. “It’s lovely.”

“Yes,” Mom agreed. “Yes, it certainly is.”

And so they sat down on the waterfront, some of them sitting on the metal railings, some of them sitting behind but with their legs dangling out above the water, all of them just sitting on the waterfront, eating burgers and hotdogs and fries, keeping one eye open for seagulls.

“If we keep our eyes open,” Sun said, speaking very softly and very carefully, “we might see a mermaid.”

“A what?” Blake asked.

“You know, a mermaid!” Sun cried. “A huge sea cow that lives … you know, in the sea. They’re grey, they have a big flipper on their backs, they sing beautiful songs out in the ocean to entertain sailors … or lure them to their deaths, I can’t remember which one it is, but they live underwater, and they mostly come out at night. Mostly.”

“That sounds like a myth,” Twilight said.

“I’ve heard sailors tell stories about them,” Sun insisted. “Do you think they were all making it up or something?”

“I can believe it,” Sunset added. “There are a lot of things in the oceans.”

The waves rolled high and low, and the moonlight fell upon them.

“Mooooo!” Trixie called out, attempting to deepen her voice. “Mooooo! I am a sea cow, and I can’t decide if I want to please you or eat you! Moooooo!”

“Moooooeeeeeeeoooooo!” The sea cried back, or at least a voice from the sea, a voice that was both high pitched and low, a voice that rolled like the waves themselves, echoing out of the darkness towards them.

Trixie let out a startled, wordless cry of shock as she toppled backwards off the railing and landed on her backside. She scrambled backwards a couple of feet. “What … what the—?”

“It’s a mermaid!” Sun cried. “Just like the sailors’ stories!”

“Moooooeeeeeeeoooo!”

Those who were sitting got to their feet, and all of them — aside from Trixie — stood at the rails, looking out across the dark but moonlit water, hoping for a glimpse of this creature Sun had spoken of, this thing that Twilight had dismissed but which was apparently very real and calling out to them.

Blake could see nothing. Her eyes were better attuned to the darkness than most, but she could see nothing. Nothing but the water.

“I wish I had my goggles with me,” Rainbow muttered.

“I don’t know; I think it might be better this way,” Sunset replied. “A few mysteries make the world feel a little larger, don’t you think?”

“No,” Twilight said. “We should strive to solve mysteries, to understand all things—”

“And when you understand everything, then what?” Sunset asked. “Where’s the wonder, where’s the excitement, where’s the novelty? You’d be bored. There is nothing that this mermaid out there could look like that would match what our imaginations conjure up. I like to think it has horns.”

“'Horns'?” Twilight said.

“Bulls have horns,” Sunset pointed out.

“Okay, okay, leave the mermaids for a second; I’ve got something to say,” Rainbow declared, turning to look down the rest of the ground where they were lined up against the railing. “We are all here tonight — with aching feet but full stomachs at last — because of one person: Blake.

“We’ve all fought alongside her. We’ve all seen her in action, and we’ve all seen that she is someone who never gives less than one hundred and ten percent to the job. Sometimes, that scares us, who care about her, but I don’t think that it’s ever failed to impress us a little bit, even more than the skill with which she fights.

“It’s easy to fight for a place that’s treated you well. It’s harder, I think it must be a lot harder, to look at a place that hasn’t treated you as well as you deserve and still see its good points and decide to fight for it anyway and to fight for it so well.

“I know that we don’t have glasses to raise, or even cups, but nevertheless, I’d like you all to raise them in spirit to Blake Belladonna, Atlas’ hope and Menagerie’s glory. To Blake!”

“To Blake!”

Double Date (New)

Double Date

"Remind me," Neon said, "why are we here?"

"Because God would have it so, it seems," Ciel replied.

Neon's eyes narrowed, even as she contrived to look at Ciel out the side of them. "I meant why are we on this rooftop?"

"I know," Ciel said, calmly and almost casually.

Neon was silent for a moment. "Are you in a funny mood?"

"No," Ciel said firmly. "Why would I be in such a thing?"

"I don't know; why won't you answer a simple question?" asked Neon.

Ciel sighed. "I apologise," she murmured. "It was … an impatient answer in the least. The correct answer to your question is that we are here because from here I can see Benni Haven's through the scope of Distant Thunder."

To prove the point, she hefted the rifle up and raised it to her shoulder, looking through the scope down upon the restaurant below. She and Neon were stood on the roof of one of Beacon's dormitories, the dorm room used by the first year Beacon students, in point of fact. Ciel believed that directly below them was the room of Team WWSR. It was a good vantage point, with a view of the CCT tower across the campus, the courtyards below, and of course, the restaurant just beyond the school boundaries.

She had a bird's eye view of half the school from up here.

"Okay," Neon said. She crouched down at the edge of the roof, her legs spread apart and her elbows resting on her knees. She had a telescope in one hand, a boxy instrument like an old-fashioned video camera, and she raised it briefly to one eye as if to confirm that she, too, had eyes on the restaurant, before she lowered it. "So why do you want to see the diner through your scope? And why do you need a spotter?"

"Because Amber is going there tonight, and I'm going to cover her," Ciel replied. "And you are going to spot for me."

"Am I?"

"Do you have anything better to do?" Ciel asked.

"Oh, wound me, why don't you, prod at my bruises?" Neon whined theatrically. "No, no, I don't have anything better to do because I am confined to campus, as you well know." She paused. "You, on the other hand, what are you doing up here? Why aren't you down in Vale with Dashie and Blake and Blake's mom?"

"Someone has to watch over Amber," Ciel replied.

"Why?" asked Neon. "Sure, she's Professor Ozpin's niece, three cheers for nepotism, but so what? If he wants to have her protected, he should put his hand in his pocket and hire a bodyguard, but okay, fine, he's cheap, so he gets some of his students to do it for him, but you're not a Beacon student, so why are you standing up here with your gun, ready to watch over her when she shows herself?"

Because she is one of the most important girls alive in the world today, Ciel thought. Not that she could say that to Neon, obviously. She glanced down at the drop off the roof. Just another step, and she would be in for rather a fall. Her aura would not like it, to say the least.

"You know," Ciel said softly, "it occurs to me that Team Wisteria below can probably hear everything that we are saying."

Neon looked down. "You think so?"

"It is not so far to their window, I believe," Ciel said.

Neon paused for a moment, before she called down, "Yo, Team Wisteria, can you hear us?"

"Yeah," replied a voice that sounded like Russel Thrush. "We can hear everything."

"Then shut the window and cover your ears; this is private!" Neon yelled.

"It's our room!" Russel cried.

"So what, it isn't your rooftop!" Neon snapped. She glanced at Ciel. "There, you were saying? Not that I honestly think that you would be about to say anything that you would be embarrassed by other people hearing. Unless you would."

"I very much hope not," Ciel said dryly.

"So?" Neon demanded. "What's the answer? Why are you up here?"

"I am here because my duties do not cease to apply just because someone is not an Atlesian; Amber needs help," Ciel said. "She has been attacked once; she may be attacked again, for all we know."

"So it wasn't grimm who attacked her the first time," Neon said. "I thought it must be, to have given her those…" — she mimed swiping a set of claws across her own face — "to remember them by, but you wouldn't be worried about grimm coming back for her, not here. For that matter, you wouldn't be worried about bandits coming back for her. Yeah, sure, I could see that someone might try and grab Professor Ozpin's niece on the road, hold her for ransom, but here? At Beacon? They'd be nuts."

Ciel was somewhat inclined to agree; to attack Amber here, at Beacon, would rash even by the standards of Cinder and her allies, foolish even. Their chances of getting away with it would be low, verging upon nonexistent. Nevertheless, that only held so long as Amber's protectors did not grow overconfident. If they relaxed their watch here, then, conversely, they would make Beacon the most dangerous place for Amber to be.

"Only if, and because, we keep our guards up," she said.

"What's so important about her?" Neon asked. "What makes her so special?"

Ciel thought about Sunset's advice, to just tell Neon everything and hang the consequences. It was … tempting, in all honesty. She had known Neon Katt longer than anyone at Atlas or Beacon, longer than some of her own brothers. It was not easy to keep secrets from her, nor to justify why Ciel should know the truth but Neon should not. Neon was as valiant as Ciel was, and more skilled at close quarters — though Ciel could hardly fail to be a better shot. And yet, Ciel had been chosen, as much because she was on a team with Rainbow Dash as anything else. If Ciel could know, then why should Neon not? What right had Ciel to keep the truth from her?

I have the passive right of not having been granted permission to tell her.

I have the right of having been ordered to keep this to myself.

And if ever there was a moment to render to the king that which was his, surely, it was this one.

"General Ironwood has asked us to assist with Amber's security for the time being," Ciel said. "He has not said why, and it is his prerogative to make this request without explanation. It is little hardship for me in any case; I find Amber sweet; a little naïve, perhaps, something of an ingénue taken to the extreme, but nevertheless, it is little hardship."

"Even though you could be down in Vale right now, with Blake and Dashie, hobnobbing with the Lady of Menagerie?"

"Do you wish you were there?" Ciel asked. "I am sure you would have been invited, were you not—”

"Grounded."

"Indeed."

Neon shrugged. "What do I care about Menagerie? Mantle is my home, and unlike some … some faunus might dream of getting out and going to live on Menagerie, dipping their toes in the tropical sea, but not me. Not my family either. I think you'd have to drag Mom out of her house kicking and screaming, and you could follow the route to the airship to take her to the boat by the way her fingernails had been digging into the tarmac. For her, going to Menagerie would mean admitting that she'd failed in Mantle, and she'd never admit that."

"Your mother has no failure to admit to," Ciel said. "From cleaner to manager of a prestigious hotel, that is quite an accomplishment."

"I know, you don't have to tell me that," Neon said. She paused for a moment. "Do you … can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything, and I will answer it," Ciel said. "Within reason."

"Our going to Atlas Academy, it gets treated like this big thing," Neon said. "But, do you ever worry that, having gotten there, we won't turn out to be as nearly as impressive as our parents who worked so hard and sacrificed to get us there?"

"You are become philosophical."

"I'm sorry; it's the dark of the night," Neon replied. "It won't happen when the sun is up, I promise."

Ciel snorted. She hesitated. "Somewhat," she admitted. "You?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if it hadn't crossed my mind," Neon said.

"All the more reason for us to aim high, no?" Ciel said. "Major Katt, of the … have any particular preference?"

"Hmm…" Neon mused. "No, I'm not too fussed. But what's this 'Major' business? Colonel Katt, if you please. And you can be my XO."

A smile played upon Ciel's face. "Can I? Well, thank you for that. I thought you were considering not joining the military?"

"I'm still considering it, considering not," Neon said. "But … it's all very well and all very worthy, but you need rank to feel like you've made it in the Kingdom of Atlas."

"And do you?" Ciel asked. "Want to feel like you have made it?"

"I mean, I wouldn't mind it," Neon replied. "What's the point of being as awesome as me if nobody knows you are? I haven't made up my mind, but if I did … it would repay all of Mom's hard work, and Dad's too, all those nights driving taxis." She paused. "But yeah, to answer your original question, I don't want to go and hang out with Blake's mom; she's nothing to me. You?"

"If she is so little to you, what should she be to me?" Ciel asked. "Besides, if I had gone down to dinner tonight, who would have kept you company?"

Neon's eyebrows rose, but she smiled, or looked as though she might smile, or looked in fact as though she were struggling not to smile, all the same.

"When's Amber going to show herself then?"

Ciel checked the time on her watch, the silver one on this occasion. "It's almost time," she said.

Pyrrha clasped her hands together. “Oh, Amber, you look wonderful!”

Amber looked down, her gaze sweeping up the borrowed dress she wore. “Really? Do you think so?”

“I really do,” Pyrrha insisted. “I would not say it if I didn’t mean it. It suits you.”

Amber smiled bashfully, even as she said, “Not as well as it suited you, I’m sure.”

“It was made for me, but I don’t think that there is too much in it,” Pyrrha replied. “Red as a colour doesn’t demand anything to match, thankfully. Although I am sorry that we didn’t think to get you a few additions to your own wardrobe when we were in Vale.”

“It’s alright,” Amber assured her. “I mean … what would have been the point?”

Pyrrha felt as though she knew what Amber meant, but nevertheless, as her brow furrowed beneath her circlet, she felt compelled to ask, “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Amber trailed off for a moment. “That when this time is over, this tournament … Ozpin is going to lock me away in the darkness, in some lonely place where there is no one and no one can find me. What am I going to do with gowns and dresses then? What occasions will I have to wear them, what parties will I attend, what reason will I ever have to dress up?”

“For yourself?” Pyrrha suggested. “For your own pleasure, your own happiness, because it makes you feel beautiful and happy, is that not reason enough?” She paused. “Or, if that is not enough for you, then you must have a dress for when you visit Mistral, and I shall take you to the palace as my guest, I insist upon it.”

Amber smiled, but her smile had something melancholy about it; it did not reach her eyes, or if it did, it sparked no light of joy in them that suffused radiance in her face. “You don’t need to pretend, Pyrrha,” she murmured, turning away from Pyrrha with a swish of her red dress, the skirt rustling as Amber retreated to the window seat, sitting down there with her back to the curtains and her hands resting between her legs. The golden bands upon her wrists glimmered softly in the artificial light within.

“You don’t need to pretend,” she repeated. “I’m not going to Mistral, or Atlas either, or anywhere else; Ozpin won’t allow it.”

“Ozpin, Professor Ozpin, is not your master,” Pyrrha replied, walking towards her, sitting down upon her own bed, close enough to Amber to reach out for her, although she refrained from doing so right way. “He may not say where you may go, or not go; he does not own you. If you wish to come to my city—”

“I do,” Amber said quickly, before carrying on just as swiftly, before Pyrrha could say anything, “but at the same time … although I don’t like Ozpin, although I don’t want to be stuffed away like the bride in the old oak chest, I … I can’t … I don’t … I’m scared, Pyrrha. I’m scared of Salem, I’m scared of Cinder, I’m scared of what’s out there, and I … I don’t want to fight, I don’t want to be attacked, I don’t want to be in danger, and if that means that I have to hide in the darkness, then … then I’ll do it. I’m not brave enough to stand in the light if that puts me in peril.” She paused. “I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Pyrrha repeated. “Sorry for what? What have you to be sorry about? If you do not wish to visit Mistral, that is your decision; I have no right to drag you there any more than Professor Ozpin has to leash you. But if you are worried, I do not say that you are not right to be worried, in your position—”

“I’m sure in my position you’d be very brave,” Amber said. “I’m sure that you’d go exactly where you wanted to, no matter the risk.”

“Is that bravery or foolhardiness?” asked Pyrrha. “Some would say I have been both, at one time or another, but deny that they are one and the same.” Now it was her turn to pause. “What I was going to say was that … if you went to Ciel or Rainbow Dash, perhaps even Blake, they would tell you that Atlas is the safest city in Remnant, guarded by a ceaseless vigil.”

“And you?” asked Amber. “Would you tell me the same of Mistral?”

“I would not be so bold,” Pyrrha said, “but our swords are sharp, and our hearts are valiant, and I think that there is little chance that Cinder, or any agent of Salem, will attack you in the middle of the street in a great city.”

Amber bowed her head. “I wish this power had never come to me. Then Dove and I could go wherever we wanted, see whatever we wanted, live however we wanted. I wish that I didn’t have to be afraid, that I didn’t have to look over my shoulder, that I didn’t need to be guarded all the time. I wish that I could go out to eat without Ciel watching over me with a big gun, I wish…”

“That you might be away from this war, and live unchanging after?” Pyrrha guessed. “There are many who would share your sentiments.”

“Even you?” asked Amber.

“I … I must prove my merit and earn the adulation that is bestowed upon me with great deeds,” Pyrrha said. “Yet even I…” Now she reached out and took Amber’s hands in her own. “If I could take this burden from you, I would so, in a heartbeat, and so would many others here, I know. But, since we cannot … we must find what joy we can in the lives that have been granted to us.” She got up and pulled Amber to her feet also, putting a smile upon her face. “So come on,” she said. “No more of such sad talk, not tonight. We are too lovely to be sad, no, and with too much to smile about.”

Amber giggled. “I … yes, yes, I suppose we do. After all, I’m safe here, and you’re here, and Dove and Jaune aren’t far away, and … and I’m awake. And I’m alive, and I … there are no shadows here. I’m surrounded by lights that keep them all away. Thank you, again, for the dress.”

“It was no trouble,” Pyrrha assured her. “In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that it was my pleasure.”

Amber was wearing one of Pyrrha’s red dresses, the one in the Mistralian style that she had worn on her last night in Alba Longa, the dress with the golden belt around the waist, the golden detailing around the chest, the band of gold that seemed to support Amber’s bust and run upwards to the swooping collar, the dress with the sleeves that had been slit open so that they hardly seemed like sleeves at all, falling down the sides of the bodice and the skirt while leaving Amber’s shoulders and arms bare to the world.

Amber had exchanged the vambrace on her left arm for one of Pyrrha’s moderately large gold bracelets, while on her right arm, she had stacked her existing bracelets above the one that she had borrowed from Pyrrha.

It was perhaps not the gown that, of all the dresses Pyrrha owned, would absolutely suit Amber the best, but Pyrrha thought that the gown of hers that would best suit Amber’s complexion and the shade of her eyes was the gold ballgown that was embroidered with so many white camellias, and while Pyrrha was not averse to dressing up simply because you wished to do, because it would please you to look pleasing to the eye, there probably had to be some limits.

And putting on a full ballgown adorned with so many flowers that it looked as though they were bursting out of the bodice probably pushed a little over those limits.

Besides, while it might not be the best, the red dress suited her very well.

Amber had also borrowed one of Pyrrha’s necklaces, the heavy gold one that she had worn to the Mistralian embassy, the three bands of gold and the three ingots hanging from it shaped roughly like arrows. The emeralds didn’t really go with anything, but that was going to be an unavoidable issue with a lot of things that Amber borrowed from Pyrrha.

“How are you finding the skirt?” Pyrrha asked, because of course the trouble with Amber borrowing one of Pyrrha’s dresses was that Pyrrha was rather taller than Amber was, so they had had to take up the hem of the skirt a little with safety pins so that Amber could walk without tripping over the dress. Ciel and Ruby had, before they departed to take up their respective sentry posts, done a very good job in hiding said safety pins from the casual eye, so that if Pyrrha hadn’t known they were there, she would never have, well, known they were there.

Nevertheless, she wanted to be sure that the skirt had been taken up enough.

“It’s fine,” Amber assured her. She smiled, and this time, her smile reached her eyes, and even seemed to soften what little of her scars could be seen beneath the makeup that Ciel had helped Amber apply. “You look very lovely yourself, by the way. That’s a gorgeous cape.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “I’m rather fond of this one.” She was wearing the black and green dress that she had worn to accompany Jaune to Alba Longa on the first day, the black bodice with the green skirt and the forest green cape that covered her neck and shoulders before falling down her back. Like Amber, she wore a pair of golden bracelets on her wrists, and like Amber, she had painted her nails golden.

Or rather, Amber had painted Pyrrha’s nails, and Pyrrha had painted Amber’s. It had been rather enjoyable.

“It’s a very nice cape,” Amber repeated. “Perhaps I should wear mine?”

“You could, of course,” Pyrrha said, “but I’m not sure how well the green would go with the red of the dress.”

“Mmm, you’re probably right,” Amber admitted. She hesitated. “This … it is alright, isn’t it? I mean, it isn’t too much?”

“Probably it is,” Pyrrha admitted, a little laughter in her voice. “But what of that? If we enjoy the way we look, who should tell us that we are wrong?”

“Joy, while we can,” Amber said softly.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha agreed. “Now, I believe our—”

The door opened, revealing Jaune and Dove on the other side.

“Perfect timing,” Pyrrha declared, turning to face them both, her green cape swirling around her as she turned.

The two boys were more casually dressed than the two girls, in different ways, which was not a mark against them, to be sure; if they were comfortable, then there was no need to observe a dress code of any kind, any more than there was any need for the girls to show except that they wished to do so.

Jaune wore a very bright yellow t-shirt, with his orange detachable sleeves covering more of his arms, and a similarly orange shirt — button up, but short-sleeved — worn over the top of it, the buttons undone to reveal the yellow t-shirt underneath. His trousers were white-grey, like his now-absent armour, and on his feet, he wore his usual trainers. Around his waist, he wore a red sash, shorter than Pyrrha’s — it did not come near the floor — but long enough to reach his knees regardless, wrapped around his belt in a serpentine fashion as well as being tied off on the right hand side.

Dove, on the other hand, was dressed entirely in subdued colours, in shades of grey and black and brown. He wore a grey-brown tunic, somewhat long, descending past his waist all the way to his thighs, clasped about the waist with a black belt whose brass buckle provided perhaps the only colour in the outfit; the collar, shoulders and sleeves were black, with the collar being open and turned downwards at the tips. His trousers were brown, and accompanied by a pair of dark brown boots reaching almost to his knees.

“Dove,” Amber gasped, “that’s—”

“What I was wearing when we met,” Dove confirmed, stepping into the room. “Yes, it seemed … right.” He smiled. “That, and I wasn’t really sure about the puffy shoulders on the outfit Lyra and Bon Bon wanted to put me in.”

Amber snorted and giggled lightly at the same time, half-covering her mouth with one hand as she did so, “Well, now you’ve got me intrigued.”

“Really?” Dove murmured. “I suppose I shall have to wear it then at some point, won’t I?” His voice was reluctant, but the smile on his face gave him away as he crossed the room to stand in front of Amber. “You look beautiful,” he said, reaching out to brush his knuckles across her face.

Amber reached up and clasped his hand in both her own. “Pyrrha’s been very kind, lending me her dress.”

Dove glanced at Pyrrha for a moment, but said nothing.

“Hey, Dove, take a step back for a second,” Jaune said, getting out his scroll and holding it up. “Let me get a picture of the two of them.”

Dove, obediently and without argument, retreated out of the way, leaving the field between Jaune on one side of the room and Pyrrha and Amber on the other, clear.

“Okay, now close up a little,” Jaune instructed. “Um, Pyrrha, you might want to bend down a little bit so I can get you both in the shot clearly.”

Pyrrha chuckled and did as she was bade, putting one arm around Amber’s waist — and feeling Amber do likewise — as the two of them closed up together, shoulder to, well, side due to the height difference between them. Pyrrha bent down, arcing her body sideways so that her head came down level with Amber’s, or near enough, even if at a slight angle.

“Perfect,” Jaune said. “Now smile.”

The two of them beamed, for though there were many shadows in the world, this was a moment of light, and all the more to be appreciated because of the shadows that lay about.

“Got it,” Jaune said, before he turned his scroll lengthwise. “Now let me just get a full-length shot … and got that too.”

“Send me a copy, will you?” Dove asked.

“Sure thing; I’ll do it after dinner if that’s okay.”

“Fine by me,” Dove replied. He paused for a moment. “Do you feel underdressed?”

“That is not my intent, I assure you,” Pyrrha said. “This for my, for our benefit, not your obligation. So long as you’re comfortable, that’s all that matters.”

“And besides,” Jaune added, a touch of amusement in his voice, “I always feel a little underdressed, standing next to Pyrrha.”

“Well,” Amber said, “in picture books, when the prince and princess stand next to each other, or dance, does anyone really care what the prince is wearing?” She paused a moment. “Although,” she added, “you’re wearing a sash, Jaune.”

One of Jaune’s hands strayed down to the aforementioned sash. “Yeah.”

“And Pyrrha, you … well, you’re not wearing one now, but you usually do,” Amber said. “And Jaune, I … have I seen you wearing that before?”

“Um, maybe, yeah,” Jaune replied. “Why?”

Amber smiled, a smile that hovered somewhere between smug and sweet. “Which of you started wearing it first, and which one of you did it to match?”

“Oh, that was me,” Jaune said, a little touch of colour rising to his cheeks, “I mean, I came second. You see—”

“That is a story,” Pyrrha said, “which might be told at the table.”

“Right,” Jaune agreed. “I mean, we’re ready if you are.”

“We’re ready,” Amber said, taking Pyrrha’s arm just below the elbow, even as she offered her other hand to Dove.

Dove took it, even as Jaune fell in on the free side of Pyrrha, taking her hand inside his own.

And so they departed, leaving the dorm room and proceeding down the corridors and stairs, sometimes having to break or disrupt their line in the process, until they passed out of the dormitory altogether and into the cool night air.

As they walked away, crossing the courtyard and heading across the campus in the direction of Benni Haven’s, Pyrrha glanced upwards and back at the dorm. She could not see Ciel, but she fancied that she did catch a glint of moonlight upon the scope of Distant Thunder, telling her that Ciel was there and watching over them.

As like as not, it was her imagination, but she knew that the Atlesian girl would be there, regardless. She was a woman of her word, after all.

She’s being extraordinarily decent, Pyrrha thought. I shall have to make it up to her somehow.

Although I’m not sure how.

I could always start by asking her; perhaps she will not disdain gratitude.

And so, under the gun of the watching Ciel, they left the school — just about, not going so far that Professor Ozpin’s tighter strictures about Amber’s protection needed to be observed, or else Pyrrha and Jaune would have had to go armed, with less opportunity to dress up — and approached the old hunting lodge with the neon sign upon the roof.

The old hunting lodge that was now surrounded — at least in front — by a forest of outdoor tables and chairs, sprawling out on either side of the cinder path, covering the grass that grew before the wooden walls of Benni Haven’s.

Benni herself was outside, her tail curled up at the tip, putting out even more tables and chairs. She unfolded and put down the last chair of the four that she had been holding and turned around as they reached the path.

Benni put her prosthetic hand upon her hip. “Now, what are a pair of pretty girls like you doing at a dive like this?” she asked.

“Aha, hoping for a table,” Pyrrha said, a slight wince in her voice as she began to worry that, yes, they were overdressed.

Benni spread her arms out, gesturing at the sea of tables all around her, and all of them empty. “Well, as you can see, there are plenty of ‘em,” she said, “but there’s also plenty of room inside, which you might prefer.”

“It might be a little warmer inside,” Pyrrha said. The four of them began to walk down the path towards the door. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing?”

“Temporarily expanding my business,” Benni declared. “As you’ll know as well as anyone, the Vytal Tournament is right around the corner, which means everyone and their three kids will be descending on Beacon to watch the fights. But where are they going to eat when they get up here, are they going to fly back down to Vale? No, they’re going to come to Benni Haven’s, that’s where they’re gonna go. I’ve got a captive market.”

“Isn’t there food served at the fairgrounds?” asked Jaune.

“Yeah, but have you ever tried the fairground food?” asked Benni. “Take it from me, it’s terrible. Trust me, I’m going to clean up. Hence the extra seating capacity. I’ve even taken on a couple of extra hands to help out in the kitchen. And I’ve got Rowlf to bring that Benni Haven’s atmosphere outside too.”

She gestured towards a fake grimm that it took Pyrrha a moment to identify as a sabyr, a species of grimm native — insofar as that word could be applied to the grimm — to Solitas, a sleek, catlike grimm that walked on all fours, with a sharp, icy white skull and what looked like shards of ice growing out of its black fur amidst the bony spines. Sabyrs, from what Pyrrha had read, typically had two sabre-teeth descending down from their upper jaws, but Rowlf only had one, the other looking as though it had been cracked off.

Around his neck, there hung a sign saying Children Please Ride On Me.

“Has Beacon had the Vytal Festival since you opened this place up?” Jaune asked.

“No, that was the year I lost my arm,” Benni said as she walked towards them. “I watched the final from a hospital bed. I didn’t buy this place until the next year, when I’d worked out what I wanted to do next. But this has already been the best year for this place since I opened up, on account of all the students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade, so I’m pretty sure I’m right that this is going to be big.” She paused. “Anyway, you want to get inside and get something to eat, not stand out here listening to me yammer on. We’ve got special Vytal Festival menus you should try.” She paused again, her eyes lingering on Amber. “You know, I know Dove, I know Jaune, and I know Pyrrha, but I don’t know you.”

“Amber,” Amber said quietly. “My name is Amber Briarrose.”

Benni smiled. “Nice to meet you, Amber, my name’s Benni, Benni Haven, it’s my name on the roof.” She held out her prosthetic hand.

Amber regarded the artificial limb warily; Pyrrha wondered if she had ever seen the like before. Raised where she had been, there was a good chance that the answer to that was no; it was the kind of medical technology that had not yet spread outside of the big cities, and even then, unless you were wealthy or well-connected — or had wealthy or well-connected friends — there was a good chance that you would wait and long in vain for such a device as that. Such, at least, was the case in Mistral — that was why Pyrrha had been honoured to help the Asclepius Institute in any way she could — it was perhaps different in Atlas, but in Vale? Benni did not seem to be particularly wealthy or well-connected, but she had been a huntress; perhaps they got preferential treatment.

Or perhaps it was simply better in Vale.

In any case, Pyrrha judged it likely that Amber had not seen a limb quite like hers before.

Amber took Benni’s offered hand, but tentatively, as if she feared that Benni’s grip might crush her bones. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said quietly.

Benni shook her hand gently. “So,” she said, ignoring Amber’s uncertainty around her arm, “what team are you on, and why’s it taken you so long to get down here to Benni Haven’s, huh?”

“Amber isn’t a huntress,” Pyrrha explained. “She’s our guest at Beacon for a little while.”

“Oh,” Benni said, showing only the smallest amount of surprise and no real curiosity. She glanced at Dove, and her eyes seemed to find Amber’s hand in the crook of his arm. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Hey, wait a second! For weeks at the start of this year, I had you and Lyra and Bon Bon coming in, and you were talking about some chick; you asked me if I’d seen her, is she—?”

“Yes,” Dove said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he placed his free hand on top of Amber’s. “Yes, this is she. This is Amber.”

Benni grinned as she put both hands on her hips. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She fell silent for a moment, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then saying nothing. “You know, it doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Congratulations, kiddo; you know, that explains something. Anyway, as I said, you don’t want to be standing out here, so go right in, pick any table you want; I’ll be right behind you.”

Amber and Dove temporarily split up from Jaune and Pyrrha, the four parting to flow around Benni, who reached out to tousle Dove’s hair indulgently as he went by, repeating her congratulations to him.

“You know her?” Amber asked.

Dove nodded. “Everyone knows her, and not just because she owns this place, but because she goes out of her way to know us too. She’s great. It’s like having an aunt who lives right outside the school.”

“I heard that!” Benni called to them. “Call me Auntie or Aunt Benni, and you’ll be banned for life!”

Dove laughed as Jaune pushed open the door and the four of them stepped inside, greeted as always by Fluffy, snarling affably at the door as he held out his paws to swipe — or hug — anyone who crossed the threshold.

Ruby and Penny were already seated in the corner of the restaurant, Ruby nursing a cup of some sort of hot drink — Pyrrha could see the steam rising from the large cup but couldn’t make out what was in said cup — while Penny had a bag of crisps open on the table in front of her.

On the table in between them sat a boardgame that looked to be set in some sort of jungle from the looks of it.

Pyrrha couldn’t see Crescent Rose, but she knew that Ruby would have it with her; she, like Ciel, was helping to keep Amber safe tonight, as indeed was Penny.

Ruby raised one hand towards them as they came in, which prompted Penny, with her back to the door, to turn and wave to them also.

“Salutations, everyone!” she called out.

“Good evening, Penny,” Amber said. “Ruby.”

“Hey,” Ruby said. “It’s your roll, Penny.”

“Oh, right,” Penny said, picking up the dice and rolling it across the board. She sounded disappointed as she announced, “Five.” She picked up a blue piece and began to move it across the squares of the board, bearing down upon a red piece just up ahead. “One, two, three, four,” she paused, the blue piece in Penny’s hand hovering over the red piece.

“Five,” Ruby prompted.

“But I don’t want to knock you off the board,” Penny complained. “You haven’t got any of your other pieces off the basecamp.”

“Neither do you, Penny, so you can’t move any other piece than that one,” Ruby told her.

Penny pouted. “I don’t see why we can’t cooperate to get out of this jungle.”

Ruby chuckled. “You know, knocking me off the board used to be Yang’s favourite part of this game.”

“Hello, Lyra,” Dove said. “Bon Bon.”

His words drew Pyrrha’s attention to the fact that, yes, Lyra and Bon were there, sat not facing one another but side by side, facing the door even though they were sat near the back of the restaurant, in a position to see all of it.

Despite the fact that they were both facing the door, nevertheless, Lyra feigned a look of surprise. “Hey there, guys! Fancy seeing you here.”

Dove’s eyebrows rose. “You knew I was coming here. I told you.”

“And we decided to come as well, since it’s a free kingdom,” Bon Bon said. “To eat dinner and not to rubberneck in any way, shape, or form.”

Dove muttered wordlessly, but Amber looked amused as the four of them walked towards a table in the middle of the restaurant.

“You have very good friends,” Amber said.

“I know,” Dove agreed. “But don’t tell them that, for goodness’ sake.”

Benni came in as they sat down, and told them, “I’ll be right there with the menus,” before she walked to grab them from the back of the house, returning swiftly with both the regular menus and the Vytal Festival menus, printed on colourful green card with a picture of the Amity Colosseum upon the front, floating high up in the sky with clouds all around it.

“I’ll give you a second to take a look,” Benni said.

“Thanks,” Jaune replied.

“Hey, Ruby, Penny, you two figured out what you want yet?” Benni asked, bustling over to their table.

“Can we start with a sharing bowl of Friendship Fries, and can I get a side of mac and cheese?” asked Ruby.

“Coming right up,” Benni said, taking the notepad out from one pocket of her apron and jotting down Ruby’s order in it as she walked away.

Amber stared down at the special menu, the tips of her fingers running over the image of the Amity Arena.

“It’s flying,” she murmured.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “That is where the chosen contestants will compete in the Vytal Tournament, a flying colosseum capable of travelling from one kingdom to another under its own power. It’s … a marvel of the modern age.”

She opened up the menu; it unfolded from the centre, revealing an interior that was designed to look like the interior of the arena, complete with silhouetted figures battling at the bottom of the page. A lot of the items on the menu looked to be very similar to the items on the main menu, only with Vytal references in their names like All Day Breakfast of Champions, the Two-on-Two Round Burger — two burger patties, each with two rashers of maple-cured bacon on top — or the Friendship Fries that Ruby had just ordered. However, there did appear to be some slight difference in what made up the breakfast, the seasoning on the fries, that sort of thing.

“So that’s what Arslan meant when she talked about the Colosseum arriving, so that you could do your filming?” Amber asked.

“Yes, I remember that too,” Dove said. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you making a documentary?”

“I’m not making it; Arslan and I are merely presenting a little of it,” Pyrrha said. “It’s for Mistralian State Television, and I suppose they wanted a couple of famous faces associated with the tournament. Arslan did us a kindness last semester, and she asked me to repay her by doing this programme.”

Amber nodded. “But you’re starting tomorrow, even though the arena hasn’t arrived yet?”

Pyrrha nodded. “It sounds as though we’ll be doing some interviews — hopefully, the questions have been written for us — and talking to some of the other students about … well, what the Vytal Festival means to them, I suppose: glory for some, a celebration of peace for others, great honour or simply a respite from more serious battles, the chance to relax in a battle with rules instead of monsters or murderers.” She smiled. “Or all of the above, as the case may be.”

“Do you wish you were fighting, Dove?” Amber asked. “Do you wish that you could?”

“Yes,” Dove admitted. “Yes, I do. Or at least, I did. I … I wished that I could have the chance to strut in front of the crowds and the cameras, to show my quality. But it’s not to be, and it would have been … it would have verged on monstrous to have been upset about that when the reason for it was … well, it was the least of our worries once, and now…” He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “Now, it doesn’t seem to really matter; there are so many more important things.”

“You’re right,” Jaune said, “but it’s the more important things that make having the break matter, almost.”

Dove looked at him. “You’re looking forward to it, then.”

Jaune shrugged. “I know that I’m not going to progress past the four-on-four round, so it’s not like I’m looking forward to lots of opportunities to show what I’ve got, but … would I like one chance to show how I’ve improved since I started out, to show my parents and my family that I’m not hopeless? Yeah, sure I would. I want them to see for themselves that I can handle myself, that I can do this. But more importantly, I want—”

“Pyrrha to succeed,” Amber suggested.

Jaune chuckled. “Well, that, yeah,” he agreed. “Obviously, I want to see you go as far as you can. If that’s what you want.”

“It is what my mother wants,” Pyrrha murmured. “She has prepared me for this moment for more years of my life than not.”

“But is it what you want?” Jaune pressed. “Or would you rather send Sunset through to the one-on-one round?”

Pyrrha’s lips twitched upwards. “I fear that if that were suggested, Sunset would split in two, torn in half between her delight and her horror.” She paused. “Actually … that would have been true, once, but now … I am not sure the desire for glory burns so strong in her now; in fact, I know that it does not. There might be a deal more horror than delight, especially when she thought about what my mother might say.”

Pyrrha hesitated, clasping her hands together upon the table, gathering her thoughts.

“I am not free from pride,” she confessed. “Nor vanity either. I am not so humble as I … for all that I have spoken of my dislike for my reputation, I am not without concern with it. If this is to be my last tournament, and it will be, then I would rather bow out a champion of champions, if such is within my grasp, than anything else. The truth is that I did not triumph in Mistral four times solely because my mother wished it so, but because I did not wish to suffer the sting of defeat. That desire, that reluctance, is as strong in me now as it has ever been.”

Amber frowned. "You … enjoy it, then? Fighting?"

"In … in abstract, yes," Pyrrha said. "In the right conditions, the proper circumstances, when bounded by rules, guidelines, conventions of honour understood by both sides, then, yes. Perhaps I should not say so, but there is a beauty in the song of swords, a melody pleasing to the ear even when one's own life is at the hazard." She paused. "Of course, when there are more lives than one's own being ventured, then … then the beauty falls away, and there is little left but desperation."

"It's always desperate," Amber murmured, looking away from Pyrrha. "It's always desperate, and it's always awful, even when it is a game. Even then … it isn't."

At the moment, before Pyrrha or anyone else could reply to Amber's point, Benni returned and took their orders, providing a momentary distraction from the conversation. By the time that she had gone again, all their wants and desires written down upon her notepad, a silence lingered after her.

Amber rested one elbow on the table, her arm propped up, and leaned upon her hand. "So, Jaune," she said. "You were going to tell us what prompted you to start wearing that sash. Was it so you and Pyrrha would match?"

Jaune laughed. "Well, I mean … I wasn't exactly thinking of that." He took a breath. "Honestly, it isn't much of a story, really, and it's going to seem really anticlimactic now that you've waited for it, but … Pyrrha's always worn a sash, with her combat gear, I mean, for as long as I've known her." He looked at Pyrrha. "You can't see it on the cereal box, but the rest of your outfit is the same, so—"

"Yes," Pyrrha answered the question before he could ask it. "Yes, I wore it at that time; it was a gift from Chariclo."

"Chariclo, I can't take this."

"Why not? It is easy; you reach out with your hands and grasp for it. All those lessons with Chiron, and he hasn't taught you how to pick things up?"

Pyrrha laughed. "I mean … this cloth is very fine quality—"

"The best quality, as fine as any member of the Weaver's Guild could weave," Chariclo declared. "Do you think I would give you some ill-made rubbish that will fall apart in three weeks?"

"No, of course not," Pyrrha replied, marvelling at Chariclo's ability to put her on the back foot. She could only conclude it was a good thing that she spoke better with Miló than with her own tongue. "But, what I mean is, this must have been expensive."

Chariclo shrugged. "What is the point of being married to the most renowned tutor-in-arms in Mistral if you cannot afford a few expensive things from time to time?" she asked reasonably enough. "And from this bolt of expensive cloth, I make a tunic for my husband, which he does not appreciate, a dress and shawl for myself, which I appreciate, and with what remains, I make this sash for you, which you had better appreciate, or I will show you that I can still rap you across the knuckles, warrior or no."

Pyrrha could not help but laugh at that. "That … this is very generous," she said. "Too much so, I fear; it is not for you to give me gifts, who have done so much for me ever since I was a babe. I should be the one giving you gifts to repay all your service, all your kindness."

"I will take my repayment in your living a good life," Chariclo said. "And not as my husband means it: honour, glory, fah!" She waved one hand dismissively. "Be happy, my child, and come back safe from all your battles." She reached out and tapped the new honour band that Pyrrha wore upon her left arm. "You took a gift from Chiron."

"That was tradition."

"And if you refuse me this, it will be an insult," Chariclo said. "And you would not refuse old Chariclo, would you? Not when I am so old and have so little left to live for?"

Again, Pyrrha could not help but laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. "You have many years left in you, I have no doubt," she said. More years, perhaps, than I do, the life of a huntress being what it is. "But I will take this gift, with all gratitude and humility, for all that I hardly feel I deserve it." She reached out, and as Chariclo had first bidden her, she took the sash in both her hands. "I swear that I will bear this proudly and do honour to you by my deeds in wearing it."

"Chariclo," Amber repeated. "Who is Chariclo?"

"My nurse, when I was a little girl," Pyrrha explained. "Her husband, Chiron, taught me all I know of combat, of spear and sword and gun. And while he taught me, Chariclo continued to care for me much as she had done, to feed me and clothe me." She smiled, a tad bashfully, a little colour rising to her cheeks. "I fear she spoiled me a little, compared to the other children in Chiron's charge. She … made it a very happy time." Before I became famous.

"Is she going to watch you in the Vytal Festival?" asked Jaune.

"I think that is more likely than not," Pyrrha said mildly. "She used to send me cards whenever I won the Mistral tournament."

"She sounds lovely," Amber said. "I wonder … I wonder how Blake is getting on with her mother."

"Well, I hope," Pyrrha said.

"Have they really not seen one another for years?" Dove asked. "I can't imagine that, not if they're both alive. Just … not talking, not seeing each other, not writing to one another, nothing? No contact at all?"

"Sometimes, you have to get away," Jaune said. "Sometimes, it just doesn't seem like there's a way forward, it just looks like there's no choice at all but to go separate ways."

"But for years?" Dove asked. "For years?"

"Blake is filled with righteousness and passionate intensity," Pyrrha said quietly. "I think that, for her, leaving her family behind would be, however hard a price it was to pay, a price worth paying in the service of a higher goal. And, while it appears that Blake's mother was blameless in whatever rift might be said to have formed between them, it is not always so. Sometimes, a child has good reason to turn away from their mother."

"But even you turned back towards her, didn't you, Pyrrha?" Amber asked. "That's why she's coming tomorrow?"

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "Yes, she is. But that was … I would not have done so if she had not at least signalled a willingness to admit her wrongdoing." She looked at Jaune. "Jaune, are you going to be alright meeting her tomorrow; if you'd rather not, I'm sure that Sunset will be alright on her—"

"It's fine," Jaune said.

"Because I realise that it was rather presumptuous to ask, because in a way, you were rather more insulted by what she did than even I was, and she hasn't apologised to you—"

"It's fine."

"So if you'd rather not see her, or even that I—"

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, his voice rising above her own as he reached across the table to take her hands. "It's fine," he said, for the third time and in the heaviest manner possible. "I told you, I don't want to be the reason why you don't talk to your mom. If you don't want anything to do with her, then that's fine too, I won't push you, but I want you to decide for yourself, not because of what I want and certainly not because of what you think I want. And because I don't think that you don't want to talk to your mom," — he paused, eyes turning upwards as though he were checking that his words had properly conveyed his meaning — "I'm happy to go and meet her at the skydock, though I'm glad Sunset will be there too — mostly. She knows how to deal with your mom, but she might also make me look bad by comparison."

Pyrrha smiled. "You shouldn't care what she thinks of you."

"I don't," Jaune assured her. "Except when she's standing right in front of me, giving me that look."

Pyrrha giggled now, looking down at her hands, and Jaune's hands atop them, gently holding hers. "For better or worse, she is my mother," she said. "My link to the long line of my ancestors. Not to mention the fact that my home is her home. I … am glad that I do not have to sever all ties with her, and for what it's worth, I think that Blake is glad, too, that her mother has chosen to reach out to her in so dramatic a fashion."

"I…" Amber began. "I wish that I had more time with my mother, and not only because if she were here, then I wouldn't be … I'm sorry, Dove; I know that she wasn't fond of you, but—"

"But she was your mother, nonetheless; I understand that," Dove assured her. "Knowing what I now know about what … about everything, I can understand why she didn't want me around, even if I'm glad she didn't get her way."

Amber nodded. "But all the same, she always seemed so … she knew what to do, or at least, I thought she did; she was always … I don't know how she managed to bear it. She was so strong. More like … more like all of you, than me."

"There are many kinds of strength," Pyrrha said. "The strength to bear misfortune as you have suffered, and still to smile, that is strength in itself, strength to be envied."

Amber did not protest it; in fact she said, "You're very kind." But she did not look particularly reassured; in fact, she looked slightly distant for a moment before she said, almost crying out, "Jaune, the sash! I'm sorry, we keep interrupting."

"It's fine," Jaune assured her. "Like I said, it's not much to say, I mean … there was a class, an exercise, Pyrrha and I were split up. It was supposed to test how well we could work with other partners; anyway, it meant that I was going into the Emerald Forest to fight the grimm ahead of her. And so Pyrrha gave me her sash."

"So that a part of her would still be with you," Amber murmured approvingly.

"Yeah," Jaune agreed. "And … I thought it looked okay on me, maybe even kind of cool, so … I guess I decided to copy her." He shrugged. "I said it wasn't much of a story."

"I don't mind," Amber said. "And you're right, it does suit you."

She said … little else. Amber was rather quiet for the rest of the evening, all through dinner, and as they left to make their way back towards the dorm.

As they passed back into Beacon itself, passing under the eyes of the Emerald Tower that gleamed above, Amber stopped, halting in place as if she had been suddenly frozen.

"Amber?" Pyrrha asked.

Amber was silent a moment, and then a moment more. "Jaune, Dove, would you … would you give us a moment?" She raised her voice. "Ruby, Penny, would you come here please?"

Ruby and Penny had both been lagging behind a little bit, keeping a discreet distance, but now, they hastened to join the others.

"Is everything alright?" asked Penny. "Is there anything we can help with?"

Amber didn't answer her. She glanced at Dove. "Dove…"

Dove looked a little disappointed, but also looked to be trying to keep from showing it. "Of course," he said. He stepped forward, taking her by the arms, and kissed her. "Good—" He kissed her again. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning?"

"You will," Amber promised. "You will."

Jaune said, "I'll see you back in the dorm room?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Of course."

"Okay," Jaune said. "I'll … leave you to it." He retreated, Dove with him, melting away into the darkness, their footsteps echoing somewhat on the stone as they left the girls behind.

"Amber," Ruby said softly. "What is it? What is it that you couldn't say in front of Jaune or Dove?"

"Nothing, really, but … I feel like this is a thing for us," Amber said. "For girls. I want you to come with me; once Sunset comes back, I want you all to come with me."

"Come with you?" Ruby repeated. "Come with you where?"

"To the Relic," Amber declared. "I want to show you how to find the Relic of Choice."

Author's Note

No new chapter this Friday as I will be away.

Reliquary (New)

Reliquary

“That was nice,” Lyra said. “I had fun tonight.”

Bon Bon snorted. “Spying on Dove and Amber?”

“We were not spying!”

Bon Bon smirked. “Lyra, there’s no one here but us; we can admit it.”

Lyra folded her arms. “Well … okay, so maybe we were, but it’s not like that’s all we were doing. And we were with one another, so … I still had fun tonight.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Bon Bon said.

Lyra grinned. “It’s nice to have stuff to smile about, isn’t it? We … I thought that things were going to be … this is nice. It’s … a reminder that good things can still happen.”

Bon Bon’s smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, it is.”

The two of them were headed back towards their dorm room, and for a moment, there was no sound but their feet upon the stairs, a thump, thump, thump as they ascended one stair after another.

Lyra frowned. “Hey, Bon Bon?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think’s going to happen next year?” asked Lyra.

Bon Bon blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … well, Amber’s not going to be here forever, is she?” Lyra pointed out. “She’s not going to spend the next three years living in Team Sapphire’s dorm room.”

That was true, and would have been true even had Amber not been the Fall Maiden. As Amber was the Fall Maiden, it was even more true than Lyra knew.

Amber, the Fall Maiden; that was a thing that was marvellous and terrible, a thing that Bon Bon really, really wished that she wasn’t. A thing that was so very hard to believe: that Amber, this sweet, unassuming girl who did not look at all as though she belonged in the middle of this game of gods and monsters, this girl who looked as out of place in all of this as Bon Bon herself, held the power that monsters like Cinder and Tempest were so assiduously seeking, the power that was one of the main prizes in this struggle and a key for unlocking even greater prizes still.

Amber was the key to all of this. Amber was the brass ring. Amber was the Fall Maiden.

Amber was dear to Dove. Amber was humble and kind. Amber was no warrior.

It was hard to reconcile it all in Bon Bon’s mind, and the only point that was clear to her was that Amber didn’t belong here.

So, yes, Lyra was right, more right than she could understand. To be honest, Bon Bon wasn’t sure what Amber was still doing here; it was daylight madness to let her stay in Beacon, roam in Vale, even protected by Team Sapphire. Unless Professor Ozpin was so confident in the strength of her bodyguards.

Or he was letting Amber stay in Vale for the Vytal Festival because the Vytal Festival was awesome, and he wanted to give her a treat.

That … that was nice of him, if so. A little stupid, maybe, but nice all the same.

But that niceness wouldn’t last forever. At some point, and if Bon Bon was right, then it would be at some point after the Vytal Festival, then Amber would be bundled off to … where? Well, that didn’t really matter did it? Somewhere safe, somewhere Cinder couldn’t find her, somewhere quiet, somewhere they didn’t know.

“No,” Bon Bon answered. “No, I don’t suppose she will. I mean, if you’re not a huntress in training, then why would you want to stick around here when you could go somewhere else, do … something you really want to?”

Hide and hope not to get found again.

“What if Dove goes with her?” asked Lyra softly.

Bon Bon blinked. “Huh?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”

“Um, well, I—”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, honestly. You’ve been here the same as me, you’ve seen the way that he looks at her, you’ve seen the way that they are together, and you’ve seen how he was the whole year when he couldn’t find her, and he thought that she was gone.”

“Dove is serious about being a huntsman,” Bon Bon pointed out. “He’s more serious than you.” And definitely more serious than me.

“Well, I’m serious about talking about this, and I’m not going to let you deflect me with an insult so that we end up fighting instead,” Lyra declared. “Dove, yes, Dove was serious; he had serious, good reasons for wanting to become a huntsman. But he’s also serious about Amber. I just … I don’t think he’ll want to let her go again, to let her leave, go somewhere else where they’ll be apart. Somewhere there’s a chance that she’ll disappear again, or worse … what if the people who attacked her before come after her again? If Dove was here instead of where she was, even if that was just in Vale, then … he wouldn’t be able to take it, would he?”

“No,” Bon Bon murmured. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“So,” Lyra went on. “If he goes with her, if he leaves Beacon to be with her — and, honestly, I think he should—”

“You do?” asked Bon Bon. “Give up his dreams for love?”

“Amber is his true dream,” Lyra replied. “And he won’t let her go, and he shouldn’t.”

“No,” Bon Bon murmured. “No, he shouldn’t. He … if Dove can be happy, then he should be, and if Amber makes him happy, then he should be with her. Like you said, he’s already lost her once; I wouldn’t ask him to take that risk again.”

“But, that leaves the question, doesn’t it?” Lyra said. “What’s going to become of us? You can’t have a team of two people, especially not two people who…”

“Speak for yourself,” Bon Bon muttered. She folded her arms. “But I know what you mean.” She paused for a moment. “What if … what if we left too?”

“Huh?”

Bon Bon shrugged. “I mean, you say things like … you imply things like we’re not good enough to be here; have you thought of just … walking away? Quitting while we’re ahead?”

“It would be a simple answer, I guess,” Lyra admitted. “But it feels … doesn’t it feel a little bit like betraying Sky’s memory? I mean, he gave his life, and we’re just—”

“Sky wouldn’t want us to join him,” Bon Bon pointed out. “I mean … it’s a possibility, don’t you think?”

“And do what instead?” Lyra asked.

“Go back to Atlas?” Bon Bon suggested. “Live in Vale, if you’d rather? I … I’ve got some money from my trust fund; we could … get a house, get jobs, get ordinary lives. Peaceful lives. We’re not heroes, Lyra, so why … why pretend we are and risk being worse?”

She was possibly laying it on a bit too thick for Lyra’s liking, but now that Lyra had raised the idea, Bon Bon found it tempting, very tempting: just walk away, away from everything, Tempest and Cinder and all the rest, just leave. Turn around and go. Shrug it all off. Be something, someone, else. Completely different.

Of course, Lyra wasn’t quite in her position, so maybe she wasn’t in the mood for the hard sell.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Lyra murmured. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, but … maybe. I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to decide right away,” Bon Bon assured her. “It was just … an idea. But Dove hasn’t even left yet.”

“Right,” Lyra agreed. “We’ve got time.”

They rounded a corner, turning into the corridor that would lead straight on to their dorm room.

Tempest Shadow was leaning against the wall, barring the way to their door.

“You.” The word was out of Bon Bon’s mouth before she could stop it, half-growled, almost spat.

“Bon Bon?” Lyra asked.

Tempest peeled herself off the wall. “Good evening,” she said calmly, almost softly. “I’m sorry about the intrusion, but I was hoping for a word with you.”

“You … you’re Trixie’s teammate, aren’t you?” Lyra asked. “Do you and Bon Bon know each other?”

“A little,” Bon Bon muttered. She took a deep breath. “Lyra … could you give us a second? I’ll be right on through; I just need to talk to Tempest for a moment.”

“Thank you,” Tempest said, quietly and without any smugness.

Bon Bon would have told her to get lost, that she had nothing to say to her, but that would have meant explaining to Lyra why she was being so hostile. Better to get Lyra inside, out of the way, and then she could tell Tempest to take a running jump.

“Okay,” Lyra said. “Well … have fun, I guess.”

“Mmh,” Bon Bon muttered wordlessly, smiling tightly as Lyra left, walking past Tempest — who didn’t try to stop her — down the corridor.

She looked at Bon Bon — and at Tempest — as she reached the door, and then she disappeared into the dorm room.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Bon Bon said.

“Then listen,” Tempest said. “And walk with me.”

“Why?” Bon Bon asked. “Why would I want to go anywhere with you?”

“Because you want to protect Amber,” Tempest said. “Don’t you?”

“And you wanted…” Bon Bon lowered her voice. “You wanted to kill her the last time we spoke; now, I can still—”

“Yes, yes, I know that you can; I haven’t come here to ask you to change your mind about that, but…” Tempest looked around. “This really would be much better if we could talk about it somewhere else where we might not be overheard.”

“Too bad,” Bon Bon said.

Tempest took a deep breath. “I suppose I haven’t given you much reason to trust me,” she admitted, “but … you can’t keep Amber safe forever just by threatening to expose me to my fellow Atlesians. I’m not that important. If Cinder doesn’t come for her, then it will be someone else, someone new. You know this, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for Bon Bon to answer; instead, she barreled on ahead. “But I know how Amber can keep herself safe, for good, for the rest of her life—”

“The life you wanted to end.”

“I was stupid, okay,” Tempest said. “I hadn’t thought about it; I was fixated on … hear me out. Please. For Amber’s sake … if she gives up the Relic, then there is no more reason to go after her. That’s what I came here to say.”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. “The Fall Maiden—”

“Matters because only the Fall Maiden can retrieve the Relic,” Tempest said. “The magic … it’s powerful, but it doesn’t really matter. There are other powers, other magics; we can make do without. It’s only the Relic that is essential; that’s what matters. If Amber gives the Relic up to us, then she can go.”

Bon Bon took a step back. It was … she wasn’t Amber, obviously, but from her perspective, it was tempting. It was more than tempting; it was … it seemed a little too good to be true, honestly. “Cinder—”

“Has screwed up too much to deserve consideration,” Tempest said. “Once we have the Relic, then Cinder will be getting a short, sharp stab in the back.”

“When?”

“You can’t expect us to give up all our cards too early, can you?” Tempest asked. “We need some way of keeping Amber honest. Assuming that she’s willing to do it.”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. Assuming. Would Amber be willing to do it? She didn’t seem like the hero type. There were certain kinds of people that you knew immediately that they would never, not in a million years, go for a deal like this. There were certain kinds of people who would reject it, instantly, because they were heroes, and heroes didn’t do that kind of thing.

But Amber … Amber didn’t seem like a hero. Of course, there was a long distance between saying that someone wasn’t a hero and that they would be willing to give up a powerful magical artefact to enemies on the promise of safe passage and a way out of this fight, but…

Amber seemed mostly to care about Dove; she didn’t seem interested in this fight, she never talked about it, she didn’t talk about herself as a hero, a warrior, only as a victim.

And a victim would take any chance to escape.

And this… “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. “How do you expect me to trust you?”

Tempest frowned. “What sort of proof can I offer?” she asked. “What sort of proof would you like?”

Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. “I can name it?”

“This is important,” Tempest said. “As I told you before, this is the lynchpin of the entire Vale operation. If we get the Relic, then nothing else matters; if we don’t, then nothing else that we accomplish matters.”

Bon Bon thought about it. If Tempest was right, then yeah, it was definitely a tempting offer. If she could be sure, if she could trust Tempest, then…

Then Amber would be safe. Amber would be free. Amber and Dove could skip off and live happily ever after.

If only Bon Bon could trust Tempest.

But how? What could Tempest do to prove to her that this offer was genuine?

‘Turn yourself in’ was the obvious answer, but then how would they get in contact to arrange Amber handing over the Relic? ‘Kill Cinder’ was another one, but Tempest seemed to have made clear that that wasn’t going to happen yet.

“Kill Cinder?” Bon Bon suggested, because it was worth trying. “Now?”

Tempest raised one eyebrow.

“So I don’t get to name the price completely, then,” Bon Bon said.

“No,” Tempest said quietly. “Not completely. But if there’s anyone else that you want killing—”

“No,” Bon Bon said quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s … no. I want … I want…”

What could she ask? What could Tempest do? What could she do to prove to Bon Bon that she was in earnest and that Amber really would be safe if she went through with this?

“Give me a weapon I can use against you,” Bon Bon said. “Give me something that I can use to protect Amber from you if you turn on her, and I’ll trust you enough to take your offer to her.”

“Will she accept it?” Tempest asked.

“I don’t know,” Bon Bon admitted, “but you’ll have to trust that I will advocate for you.”

That would be a risk on her part, because if Amber wasn’t the sort of person who would take such an offer, then she would have no reason not to turn Bon Bon in — after all, she would have to reveal her allegiances in order to persuade Amber. But the prize, in Bon Bon’s opinion, was worth it: safety for Amber and Dove, the possibility of redemption for Amber herself. Happy endings all around.

No more target on Amber’s back, no more possibility of Amber and Dove being torn asunder, no more risk that their story would come to a tragic end, no more darkness hanging over them. Nothing but light and love, nothing but happiness; it was perfect, really.

And all it would take would be proof of trust.

Tempest was silent for a moment. “Very well,” she said. “I will be back with something that I think will satisfy you.” She paused. “Until then, you’d better get inside your room, hadn’t you? We wouldn’t want you to keep Lyra waiting.”

Pyrrha was momentarily lost for words. Amber was … Amber was going to take them to the Relic?

She was going to show them where the Relic of Choice could be found?

One of the four Relics, the four keys that Salem and her forces were seeking, and Amber was going to show it to them?

It sounded … absurd, and yet, at the same time, for all its absurdity, it was a great honour also. A great honour to be shown this wondrous thing, this thing that it was Amber’s sacred charge to guard, passed down to her from her mother and the Maidens of the past, this precious gift. This gift that she wished to share with them.

It was a great honour, and yet, at the same time, utterly absurd that she would show them this precious thing, this hidden thing, this thing that was so sought after, this thing that, if found, could have such consequence. Why would Amber wish to show it to any of them?

Why would Amber do such a thing, take such a risk?

I suppose I could ask her, since she’s standing right here.

“Why?” Pyrrha asked, finding her voice. “Why would you—?”

“Because,” Amber said, before Pyrrha could finish. “Because I…” She fussed with one of her golden bands, turning it around and around upon her wrist. “Because … I might die,” she said softly, so softly that the night air nearly stole her words and snatched them away ere they reached the ears of Pyrrha or those who stood with her.

“Amber,” Pyrrha said, in almost equal softness but, she hoped, a little more audible. “You will not die.”

“I might.”

“Not while we live,” Pyrrha declared. “And Sunset lives. Is that not so?” she asked, looking at Ruby and at Penny where they stood on either side of her.

Ruby was looking at Pyrrha, not at Amber, and Pyrrha found that she could guess, or thought that she could guess, what Ruby was thinking.

“Now you agree that there are things worth dying for?”

I never … well, alright, Ruby, yes I suppose I did.

And yes, I would give my life for Amber, for duty’s sake and also … and also because … because she has been ill-used in this, plunged into the midst of darkness and death through no want of her own, put at risk through no want of her own, that is something, it strikes me, that is worth protecting, even at the greatest of hazards if we must.

In the mythology of Mistral, there were women, young women, maidens if you would, whom the gods … to put it delicately, more delicately that it probably deserved to be put, took their maidenheads from, and as some kind of recompense, bestowed upon them immortality. An immortality that they had not asked for, had not sought, that condemned them to watching their fathers, mothers, brothers die before them, to take no husbands, to live in no way the lives that they had expected before their beauty caught the eyes of lusty divinities.

Amber, it seemed to Pyrrha, was much the same. Yes, she had not been deflowered by Professor Ozpin, he had not taken her for his pleasure beneath a tree somewhere, but he had made her something else than she had been, he had bestowed on her a great gift, a gift that had twisted her life beyond Amber’s expectations, that had made it so that she could not live the life that she had wanted.

She was a victim in all of this. Pyrrha felt that if one were to conjure up the ideal of the sort of person a huntress was meant to defend, it would look somewhat like Amber.

And, on top of all of that, Pyrrha felt there was a … a connection between them.

She had been chosen to be Amber’s heir, her inheritor, in a sense, in more senses than one. To inherit not only her powers but also perhaps some of her personality too.

She had been chosen, and then asked to choose. She had not chosen, Sunset had made it so that she did not have to choose, but nevertheless, the very act of having been chosen created a bond between her and Amber; though she had not spoken of it to Amber herself, Pyrrha felt it there regardless.

Why should I not fight for her with all that I possess?

“I don’t want you to die for me,” Amber said. “I don’t want anyone to … that’s not what I meant, that’s not why I … please, just listen.”

She paused. She breathed in and out. She looked down and clasped at the open sleeve that fell off her shoulder and fell down her side as part of the borrowed red dress.

“If I die,” she repeated. “If they kill me, then … then I will think of you. I will try and think of you, anyway, one of you, or Sunset, the people, the girls who I…” She smiled. “You’re my first friends. I’ve never had any friends before Sunset woke me, before you. Living in the forest, there was just my mother and me and Ozpin, and then I met Dove, but … well, if I had any other friends, I don’t remember them, and Dove hasn’t mentioned them either, so … you are my friends. You’re my first and only friends. Dove is my friend, but you … you’re dear to me, and you can inherit the Maiden powers, while Dove and Jaune can’t, and so if I die, I will … I’ll try and give the powers to you, if I can.”

If you can, Pyrrha thought. If the powers do not simply seek to reunite in Cinder. Professor Ozpin, after all, had thought it likely that they would. Thought it possible, at the very least, although they had also thought that perhaps those powers that still resided in Amber would transfer after the usual fashion — but to Cinder again, as the last person in Amber’s thoughts.

That was not the case at the moment, and might not be the case again.

“And so,” Amber went on, “if that happens, if one of you becomes the next Fall Maiden, then … then I want you to know where the Relic is, how to get to it. I don’t want you to rely on Ozpin telling you; I want you to be … I want you to be able to be free of him.”

“Amber,” Pyrrha murmured. “This … this is a great honour that you offer us, but I’m not sure that … your words are kind and generous, but perhaps a little too grim; I would not have you look forward to your death in such a fashion.”

“I can see the sense in it,” Ruby said. “Not because I think that Amber’s going to die, because she isn’t, but … if the enemy, if Cinder, finds out where the Relic is, then if Amber is the only one who knows, then she’ll have to go there. But if she tells us now where to go, then Amber can stay safe, and we can go and confront Cinder or whoever on her behalf.”

“You speak good sense,” Pyrrha conceded. “Perhaps it is as well that we know, just in case.”

“If this is what you want,” Penny said, “but don’t you trust us to protect you? To keep you safe?”

“I trust you to try,” Amber replied.

“But not to succeed?” asked Penny.

Amber said, “It’s all so dangerous. And she’s so powerful.”

That is the counsel of despair. Would that Sunset were here to conjure up some words to drive it off. “Is there nothing that we may say that may cause you to have hope?” Pyrrha asked. “Nothing to make you feel … our enemies are many, and they are powerful, that is true, but we are not dead yet, none of us. You were … many thought that you must surely perish, but here you are, well and happy, and in love. Loving and beloved, as some might say. You are alive, and we are all still alive, and despite the stretching forth of great powers against us, despite their attempts to kill and to defeat us, we are alive, and we have triumphed against these grave enemies. We are alive, and where are our foes? Defeated, their plans in ruins, whipped curs licking their injuries.”

That was, perhaps — more than perhaps — over-egging things a little bit when it came to Cinder, who had been in fine form when they had left her last, but even she … powerful as she might be, it was difficult to see what she might do next, her dust used up, her stratagem failed.

Of course, that was not to say that it would remain thus always, but … things were not so bleak as Amber painted them.

“Things are not so bleak,” Pyrrha went on, because she thought that sounded rather good. “Please, Amber, I would not have you lose all hope. I would have you smile, if you can.”

“I can smile,” Amber replied, and proved it with a soft smile, albeit a sad smile, it seemed to Pyrrha. “Thanks to you, and all of you, and Dove, thanks to all the things that you do for me, I can smile. I can smile at the light in the darkness, but that doesn’t make the darkness disappear.”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “No, I concede that it does not. And Ruby does make a very good point. Penny, would you like to see the Relic?”

“I’m not sure that I want to,” Penny admitted. “I don’t know if it’s something worth seeing or not, but I can see it might be useful to know where it is, and if Amber wants to show it to me, then that’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Amber said. “I’m telling you that I might pass my curse onto you.”

“Oh,” Penny said. “Well, I’m sure you’d only do that in a nice way.”

Amber stared at her. Then she grinned. Then she looked as though she was trying to stifle a laugh, her mouth crinkling and her cheeks bulging a little. Then the laugh broke out of her mouth.

Ruby snorted. Pyrrha chuckled softly.

“That didn’t come out right!” Penny protested. “But I know what I meant!”

“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Yes, we know. The kindest of curses. Never was a curse meant so well and given with such affection.”

“Then maybe it isn’t a curse,” Penny suggested. “Can a gift from a friend ever be a curse?”

“If you gave a friend a poisonous snake or something,” Ruby said.

“But why would you want to give your friend something like that?” asked Penny.

“Because … that’s a good point; I don’t know.”

“It is a curse,” Amber said. “It was not meant as a curse, at first, but … but it has become one.”

“But a curse which must be borne,” Pyrrha said. “But we will help you bear it, while we can, if we can, and if that means that we will see where the Relic is kept, then let us go … once Sunset arrives.”

Sunset was holding her jacket in one hand, draped across her shoulder like a pelisse, as she walked into the dorm room.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m back.”

She need hardly have said that, because not only was it self-evident that she was back — otherwise, she wouldn’t have been in much position to say it, would she? — but also because everyone was looking at her, as if their eyes had been fixed upon the door, waiting for her to come in.

“Hello,” Sunset said. “Is there something I can do for you?” She noticed that Penny was there, sitting on Ruby’s bed next to Ruby. “Um, sorry, Penny, that might have sounded rude, hey, it’s nice to see you, I didn’t notice you because I was distracted by the mildly creepy staring.”

“That’s fine,” Penny assured her. “I’m not upset.”

Amber got up off of her borrowed bed. She was wearing one of Pyrrha’s dresses, albeit one which suited her pretty well. Sunset wondered what they’d done to lift up the hem; it was very good, she couldn’t see how it was being done.

“You need to come with us,” she said, “I mean, I’d like for you to come with us, with Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny; I want to show you how to get to the Relic of Choice.”

Sunset blinked. “Hello, Sunset, how was your evening? Oh, it was all right; we couldn’t find a restaurant to take us in anywhere, but we had some fun prowling the streets of Vale and ended up hearing mermaids down by the docks. How was your evening, guys? Well, we decided to go and look at the Relic of Choice, and you should come too!”

Amber sniggered. “I’m sorry, I suppose it is a little abrupt. It made more sense, considering that I’d already talked to Ruby and Pyrrha and Penny about it; I forgot that it would seem very strange to you.”

“Ruby and Penny and Pyrrha,” Sunset murmured. She glanced at Jaune. “Ladies’ night?”

Jaune shrugged, a sheepish smile upon his face. “I can’t become a Maiden, so…”

Sunset’s brow furrowed a little bit. “So … why?” she asked.

“We might need to know,” Ruby said. “In case we have to defend the Relic from Salem’s forces, it would be good if we knew where it was, and Amber wouldn’t have to lead us there.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, yes, that is a reason…” She looked at Amber. “I’m not sure it’s a reason that you would come up with, Amber, no offence.”

“None taken,” Amber said quietly. “I’m not very martially minded, I know.”

“So—”

“Do Amber’s reasons matter?” asked Pyrrha. “They’re a little … melancholy, shall we say?”

“I … I suppose they don’t technically matter,” Sunset admitted, “but at the same time, having just walked in here not anticipating going to be told that we have a field trip, I think that I’m allowed to ask what brought this on and why it has to be now.”

“Because I might die,” Amber said.

Melancholy, Pyrrha? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. “You’re not going to die; I won’t allow it.”

“You might not be able to prevent it,” Amber said.

“I’ve done it once,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know,” Amber said. “And I’m grateful. I’m so grateful, I … I can never repay—”

“You could start by not talking about dying,” Sunset suggested.

“If I die, then I … I know that I’m not a very good Maiden. Ozpin, my mother, they chose wrong, they chose so wrong.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself—”

“Pyrrha spoke such beautiful words to me tonight,” Amber said, “about hope. I can’t … I should be saying something like that to you; a Maiden should be speaking those words, isn’t that right? Isn’t that what they did in the story, isn’t that why there even are Maidens? But I can’t, I don’t have … I can’t speak, I can’t fight, I can’t inspire anybody—”

“You have inspired us to pledge ourselves to your protection,” Pyrrha pointed out. “That is not nothing.”

“No,” Amber agreed. “No, it is not nothing, but it is your kindness and your courage, not my charm.”

“Charm is…” Sunset trailed off a moment, because she had a better and a more important point to make. You could argue that all of the things that Amber was concerned about falling short in were irrelevant to the circumscribed Maidens of the modern day, that all that Amber needed to do was not die and let her powers fall into the hands of evil. That was … a melancholy thing, though, to use Pyrrha’s understatement of earlier, and it wasn’t a message that Sunset wished to give voice to, no matter how true it was.

Not to mention that it probably wouldn’t help Amber much to hear it.

“If you want to be as the Maidens of old, if you want to inspire, to lead, if you want to be as they were, then that is possible,” Sunset said.

“I’m not—”

“These qualities are not innate,” Sunset declared. “I thought … I’m a snob, I admit that. I own that, without the shame that is implied by talk of admission. I kowtow to Lady Nikos and genuflect in the direction of the blood of Old Mistral. But I will also say — and again, I say it without the shame that would be implied by saying ‘I admit’ — that there are many great leaders, some of them known to me, who have risen to become the focal points of a peoples’ hopes and dreams without a drop of noble blood in them.” How much would you be blushing to hear this, Twilight? “Public speaking, oratory, how to bear yourself as a leader, these things can be taught and have been taught for many years, and the rest? Qualities of character can be built by…” Sunset paused. She knew how Princess Celestia had taught Twilight Sparkle the qualities of character required for her ascension — by sending her to Ponyville to make friends and learn lessons — but she searched for the words to frame it and also to apply it to Amber’s situation. “By experience, which is a fine teacher of such things. Wherever you go next … perhaps you will be allowed to interact with the people living nearby; I’m sure that you won’t be so isolated that there is no one living within walking distance — where would you get your food from? — and you can … you can become a figure of hope to them, if you wish. These things are not beyond you.”

“No?” Amber asked. “What makes you think so?”

“Because a little bookworm who spent her early years haunting the libraries did what I could not,” Sunset said. “Because she learned, because she experienced, because she tried, supported by good friends. It’s … it might not be easy, but it isn’t complicated, if that makes sense.”

“Did what you could not?” Amber repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Um … let’s just stay on topic for now, shall we?” Sunset said. “I can tell you about myself later, if you wish, but for now, I’d like to focus on the fact that you want to take us to see the Relic of Choice, shall we?”

“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Yes, very well, I … do you really think that I could? Do you really think that I could be allowed?”

“I think that the bigger question is whether you want it badly enough,” Sunset said.

“What I want,” Amber murmured. “What I want is … it doesn’t matter what I want; what matters is what I am, and what I have, and what I … I want to show you where the Relic is just in case. So that you’ll know. So that you can … regardless of whether I live or die, I can’t protect the Relic, but you … maybe you can’t either, but the difference is that you’re brave enough to try. Please, let me do this, let me show you? I won’t open the inner sanctum and get the Relic out, but at least you’ll know where it is, and more importantly, how to reach it. Ozpin … it’s not somewhere you can just walk into. Please, let me show you.”

Sunset looked away from Amber, at Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny.

“You’ve all agreed to this?” she asked. “You all want this?”

“'Want' is a strong word,” Pyrrha murmured. “I do not relish the idea of Amber’s death, but, yes, I am ready.”

“And me,” Penny said.

“And me too,” Ruby said. “There’s good reason for it.”

“Yes, I suppose there is,” Sunset murmured. “Well, in that case, who am I to be the odd one out? Okay then. Amber, lead the way.” She paused. “Would you like my jacket against the cold? It’s gotten a little chilly out by now.”

Amber nodded. “Thank you.”

Amber put on Sunset’s jacket, where it clashed with the dress but not that much more than it had with Sunset’s cocktail dress, and then she led them out of the dorm room — did Team YRBN wonder what they were doing coming and going so late? — and out into the night air that was as chilly as Sunset had said.

So chilly that she half wished that she hadn’t given her jacket to Amber. Sunset shivered a little as she and the others followed Amber out into the night, walking across the courtyard, beneath the statue of the huntsmen and the huntress.

The huntress was too far back upon the rock, but the eyes of the huntsman above and the beowolf below seemed to follow them, staring at them as they walked, as if asking them where they were going at such an hour as this.

A crow cawed somewhere in the night as the five of them left the paved courtyards behind, passing beneath the glowing green lights of the Emerald Tower and moving out in the grass of Beacon’s expansive grounds. So late as it was, there was no one around, no one to observe them, no one to question them, no one to say or do anything at all. There was only them and the somewhat distant sounds of the Atlesian airships moving above, indifferent to their small shapes as they walked like ants across the face of the earth.

Amber led them far from the buildings, in the direction of Vale, roughly, but not towards the skydocks. She led them away from there, away from the paths and the trees, away from all of it, towards the drop down from the school to the city below, but to a very secluded part of the drop off, to where the river cut across the grounds and then dropped in a waterfall down before it flowed down towards the sea.

It was not much of a river, it had to be said — it could be called more of a stream, in fact — but at the edge, at the point at which it fell off the edge and down to the city below, it certainly sounded loud enough.

“It’s just down there,” Amber said. “Although it’s a little hard to see.”

“Let me,” Sunset said, holding out her hand and casting a ball of magelight, glowing green, illuminating the grass on which they stood and the water rushing inexorably by on its way down and out, illuminating everything as it floated out just beyond the cliffs and stayed there, hovering in the air.

Amber crouched down, and approached the edge gingerly, arms held out on either side of her, golden bangles gleaming green in the light of Sunset’s magic.

“It’s just down there,” she said. “There’s a ledge; you can see it now.”

They all clustered at the edge, more or less warily. Penny looked the least concerned about the drop, possibly she was built that resilient, or maybe she had that good balance. Sunset knew that if needs must, she could teleport back up, the way that she had done when she was horsing around with Cinder that one time.

Pyrrha and Ruby were the slightly more nervous, the latter more than the former, perhaps because Pyrrha had grown up on a mountain, but even Pyrrha was crouched down rather than at her full height.

Nevertheless, nervous or no, they gathered at the edge and looked down to where they could indeed see a little rocky ledge, about ten or twelve, maybe fifteen feet down from where they were, next to the waterfall, getting splashed by the water dropping down nearby.

“Well,” Pyrrha said. “We’ve dropped further, haven’t we?”

“Is there room for all of us down there?” Sunset asked.

“I think so,” Amber said. “There should be?”

“Okay then,” Sunset said. “I’ll go first, make sure it’s stable.”

That being said, she dropped down, jumping off the edge, falling the relatively short distance and landing on the rock below with a bit of a thump and a jolt to her aura. But the rock held; it didn’t give way under her weight.

Sunset tapped her foot on the rock as she felt the water splash her face. “Okay,” she called up. “Come down, one at a time.”

So, one at a time, they descended, first Pyrrha, then Amber herself, then Ruby, then Penny last of all, jumping or scrambling down the rock or, in Amber’s case, levitating herself down with the corona of fire blazing around her as she let the air currents lower her gently down.

“I take it that this drop isn’t the means of defending the Relic?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Amber said. “No, the Relic … the Relic is…” She held out one hand, holding it out towards the waterfall beside them, letting the water splash upon her arm and on the gold she wore upon her arm.

“Valour,” Amber whispered. “'A huntsman is sworn to valour. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.'”

Sunset shivered, unable to avoid thinking about how much of that oath she had broken; the only part she’d managed to keep to was the bit at the end about wrath.

Nevertheless, Amber spoke the words, and at her word, the waterfall moved aside, like a curtain, revealing that the ledge of rock continued — and that, beneath the waterfall, there was a cave mouth gaping, a hole leading down into the darkness.

“Is that magic?” Pyrrha asked.

“A spell cast by … one of the old Maidens, I think, when the Relic was put here,” Amber said. “Or maybe by Ozpin.”

“I take it we couldn’t simply have walked through the water,” Sunset said.

Amber shook her head. “If you don’t speak the words, then you’ll get swept away, dropped down below,” she said. “Come on, it’s this way.”

Since she would have had to squeeze past Sunset and Ruby, she didn’t lead the way, but it was pretty obvious where they were meant to go: into the cave, and once they were inside the cave, down the steps that they found there, down into the darkness.

And yet it was not such complete darkness as it might have been, for bioluminescent green moss grew on the rocky walls of the tunnel that they descended, and set into the walls of stone were blue crystals that also gave off a faint light, and together, they combined to make a turquoise glow that was the equal of Sunset’s magelight, to the extent that she didn’t need her magic to light the way because the way ahead was lit up well enough already.

And so they went, the five of them, walking down the steps, their path lit up by moss, somewhat overdressed for cavern exploration — in the case of Sunset, Pyrrha, and Amber anyway — but going nonetheless, descending until they came to a point where the tunnel opened up into a cavern that was, if not vast — the ceiling was still fairly low, for one thing — was certainly more expansive than the tunnel, widening out to allow the five of them to stand side by side, and room for moving around if they had wished.

Set into the walls of the cavern were carved statues, half in relief, half sunk into the rock: statues of kings all wearing the same crown, a crown with a single sharp point descending down beneath the brows, sharp like a blade, as though the crown itself meant to skewer those who wore it between the eyes. Above, there were five points, sharp if not so blade-like, a little more jagged in shape, and in the centre of the crown, a stone of some sort, a jewel of a colour that could not be made out from a statue of grey stone.

All the same crown, on every kingly brow.

Sunset felt it looked a little sinister, to be honest. Was this the Relic? Was this why it was depicted here? She couldn’t think why else there would be all these kings otherwise. It was the one thing that they all had in common. Some bore swords, others did not; some wore armour, others did not; some had ermine robes, others did not. Clothes, faces, they all varied, but they all wore the crown.

In the centre of the cavern, there was another statue, a woman this time, and one who did not wear the crown: a young woman, with short hair — much like Amber’s own — and a kerchief tied around her neck.

There was something regal about her bearing, about the way that she held herself, the way that she looked down on them — and she was looking down on them, as all the ancient kings looked down on them.

It was as if the room itself resented them for trespassing.

And beyond the statue: a door, a great door as wide and as high as the cavern itself, a door that almost resembled a wall of ice or crystal, a door that was a fiery red, as red as any leaf in the Forever Fall, a red glowing brighter than any moss or crystal, casting its light down into the cavern.

The five of them stood there, coloured red by the glow of the door, standing, staring at the cavern before them, with its statues on either side and the door before them.

“That door,” Pyrrha murmured, “is that—?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said from behind them. “That is where the Relic of Choice is stored. Only the Fall Maiden can open it.”

The five of them whirled around. Amber gasped with shock and shrank back behind Sunset.

“Professor!” Pyrrha said. “You—”

“Yes, Miss Nikos, I did,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice so calm it was impossible to tell if he was really calm or just pretending. “Amber … why?”

“I … I thought that they should see,” Amber replied, her voice trembling. “I thought that they should know. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“In case … in case they needed to come here,” Amber said. “In case … in case … in case I—”

“Amber,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice sounding notably less calm now; it sounded like it might start trembling itself save that he had such control over it. “Amber that is … that is what they, what we are here to prevent. Please, do not … this is not necessary.”

“We did try and tell her, Professor,” Sunset said, “but at the same time … if we must come here, best that we know now and that Amber does not have to lead us here in the midst of a crisis.”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that. Nevertheless, you should have consulted me first.”

“We’re sorry, Professor,” Sunset said.

“No harm done, really,” Professor Ozpin said lightly. “But I would appreciate it if you would all come with me now, and not return here without good cause.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “Of course. And of course, we won’t come here again, hopefully ever.”

Nevertheless, as they followed Professor Ozpin out, Sunset looked back at the fiery red door behind them and thought of the crown — that sinister-looking crown — that lay behind it, the crown for which great powers contended and people like Amber paid the price.

And the statue, the statue Sunset presumed could only be of a Maiden, of the Maiden, watched them as they walked away.

Lady Nikos' Apology (New)

Lady Nikos’ Apology

The skydock bustled with activity. Through the glass skylight above them, Sunset could see a pair of airships moving in, almost at once. One, coming in from the east, was from Mistral, the other, from Atlas, was coming in from the north. Both were performing a stately aerial dance, circling around one another like great flying creatures, like immense birds or whales of the air as they both lined up to land without colliding with one another in mid-air or in the descent.

The skydock was busy already; another airship had just landed about ten or fifteen minutes ago, this one a short-hop flight from Alexandria to the south, and people were still flooding off it to spill out onto the concourse beneath the immense glass skylight. Even if all the passengers had disembarked by now, there were still people milling about the concourse, greeting people, waiting for their cabs, buying the toothpaste they had forgotten to pack or the alcohol they could get cheap from the off-license. Others were sitting or standing in the lounge, waiting for their outbound flight to be called.

Activity was all around, and the air was abuzz with conversations which struck the glass ceiling up above.

Hopefully, it would lessen a bit soon, or Lady Nikos might not be able to spot them in the press.

"Do you think we should have made a sign?" Jaune asked as he and Sunset stood just beyond the egress gate onto the concourse, watching the doors through which Lady Nikos would emerge when she disembarked from her airship and made her way inside.

"Lady Nikos knows what we look like," Sunset replied.

"Yeah, but will she be able to see us?" asked Jaune.

It was a fair point, with so many people around. Nevertheless, Sunset replied, "I do not think Lady Nikos is the sort of person who would wish to be welcomed with a homemade sign held above our heads."

Jaune let out a single laugh, almost a bark except that it wasn't quite loud enough. "I guess you might have a point about that. I'm a little surprised she's flying in an airship, to be honest."

Sunset glanced at him, raising her eyebrows slightly. "As opposed to flying with her wings?"

Jaune rolled his eyes. "No, as opposed to, like, chartering a yacht or something. That's something rich people do, right? They have their own private airships, or they hire them?"

"It is," Sunset allowed, "but I think that if my lady owned her own airship, then she would have sent it for Pyrrha, at least to fly us from Piraeus to Mistral, when we visited. And besides, while I've never been aboard a private yacht, I imagine that with the best will in the world, they're small and a little cramped. It's probably not quite as bad as flying long distance in Rainbow's Skyray, but why would you want to put up with the privations when you can just get a stateroom aboard a skyliner? Plus, it's probably safer."

"You think?"

"You don't?" Sunset responded.

"A larger airship means more people," Jaune said. "More people means more chance of attracting grimm, and one of those airships isn't going to outrun nevermores, is it?"

"No, but a larger ship means someone is more likely to answer your distress call," Sunset said.

"Maybe," Jaune allowed. "Do you think they have huntsmen on board?"

"I have no idea," Sunset admitted. "Ruby would know."

"How do you think she and Penny are getting on with Amber?" asked Jaune.

"I imagine that Penny is learning a lot about knights," Sunset said. "Whether she finds it interesting is something else altogether."

"Knights and princesses," Jaune said.

"Yes, of course, we mustn't leave out the princesses," Sunset said.

She paused for a moment, watching the two airships descend in a slow and steady fashion towards the great tarmac expanse that awaited them outside the dock. A smile played across Sunset's lips.

"Have you considered that you're a bit of a Percy yourself?"

Jaune blinked. "The swan girl? How do you mean?"

"A princess with a grand old name, the heir to a great kingdom—"

"Pyrrha isn't really the heir to anything."

"One whose hand their parent is anxious to give away to someone of their choosing," Sunset went on, "and the knight who chooses to follow their heart, casting all else aside to be ruled by passion."

"That's not funny, Sunset," Jaune declared, folding his arms. "Her mom might actually mean it."

"Right," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, sorry, that was in … sorry, I should have thought."

"It's okay," Jaune muttered.

"Obviously not," Sunset said. "You know, Pyrrha wouldn't have asked us to come down here and meet with Lady Nikos unless her mother had at least given the … outward form of having reconciled herself to your relationship. If she didn't think that Lady Nikos was going to treat you with at least a modicum of courtesy, then she would have left her mother to stew down here, and she wouldn't see her and she wouldn't ask any of us to see her either."

"But you would have come down here to see her anyway, right?" Jaune asked.

"I would," Sunset agreed. "Does that seem like treachery in your eyes?"

Jaune shook his head. "You thought that if Pyrrha were to cut all ties with her mom, then the day would come when she'd regret it. You might have been right about that. We'll never know for sure, but … I was afraid you were right too, that Pyrrha would regret it and that she'd blame me for being the cause of it. That's why … I'm glad you did what you did. And I'm glad that Pyrrha and her mom are talking again; I just … I just wish I knew how she was going to react when she saw me here."

"If I thought that she would be hostile, I wouldn't have asked you to come," Sunset assured him.

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and shook his arms a little.

Both airships had landed, settling down upon the ground, their wings ceasing to beat. Landed and stationary, they looked quite different to when they were in flight above; they looked like buildings, long buildings of glass and steel.

Yes, definitely more comfortable than chartering a yacht.

The food's probably better too.

"It won't be long now," Sunset murmured.

"Uh huh," Jaune said quietly.

"It'll be fine," Sunset assured him. "Lady Nikos will be the soul of courtesy, I have no doubt. Whatever thoughts she may have harboured about you, you are Pyrrha's boyfriend and look set to stay that way for some time to come, and so I believe that Lady Nikos will wish to reconcile with you, if only for the sake of her own relationship with Pyrrha. In fact, I will go so far as to say that Lady Nikos will be more afraid of you than you are of her."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "No way, come on; you're just making stuff up to make me feel better."

"I am saying what I believe based on what I know: you are far more secure in Pyrrha's heart than her mother is," Sunset declared. "Of course, Lady Nikos won't actually admit her fear to you — she is too proud for that — but … what she did, what she said, why she did it, it wasn't right. I don't defend it, but … she loves her daughter, after her own fashion. I ask that you try and remember that."

Jaune nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know. I remember."

"Good," Sunset said.

She glanced around the skydock, taking note of the large number of police officers present on the concourse; and not even regular police, but the ones with machine guns and body armour. They watched the crowd, their faces grim, set in almost scowls, one hand seeming to stay ever close to the triggers of their weapons.

They were there to provide reassurance, part of First Councillor Emerald's drive to reassure the people of Vale, and all its visitors as well, that Vale was safe and there was no further risk of any terrorist action by the White Fang or anyone else.

Not everyone looked reassured. Some people were giving the police a wide berth, glancing at them anxiously, pulling their children away, steering clear. Especially the faunus. Sunset supposed that she could understand why.

People were starting to come in now, the glass doors opening as visitors from Atlas and Mistral alike — and probably some from Vale coming back from Atlas or Mistral too — poured into the lounge and headed towards the egress gates that would release them onto the main concourse and, thence, out into the city itself. There was no sign of Lady Nikos, but as the gates opened and the weight of passengers from two airships poured out, forcing Sunset and Jaune to back away from the gate somewhat, as the air was filled with the sound of voices calling out to one another, Sunset was doubtful whether she could have seen or heard Lady Nikos in any case.

Perhaps Jaune had a point about the sign.

Nevertheless, lacking a sign, Sunset and Jaune waited, even as the crowd flowing out of the gate began to abate, even as they began to see a little more clearly again the lounge and the glass doors beyond.

The doors which opened, the bulk of the press having passed by, the concourse yet being full but the lounge being rather empty, to admit Lady Nikos into the skydock. Pyrrha's mother was dressed in red, in a dress that was long enough to cover her entire legs and her feet too, while not being wide in any sense, falling straight down from her hips to the floor without any expansion of any sort; the bodice was of the same colour, and pooled a little around the waist rather like a peplum, while the collar was white lace with an emerald brooch worn at the neck. Over her bodice, she wore a jacket, also red, with gold detailing upon the lapels and slightly puffed shoulders, along with long sleeves that covered her arms all the way down to her hands, even as her hands were half-concealed beneath a pair of flimsy lace gloves. She walked slowly, with the aid of an ebony walking stick, and moved more stiffly than Sunset remembered from their time in Mistral.

She was followed by a maid dressed in black, with a bag slung across her shoulder and dragging a large suitcase on wheels behind her. The skydock door very nearly closed on it.

Lady Nikos stopped, and leaned upon her stick a moment.

"My lady!" Sunset called out to her.

Lady Nikos' head instantly turned in their direction, although it did not settle there but glanced around a moment, presumably looking for some sign of Pyrrha. Seeing her not, Lady Nikos began to walk towards them, moving with the same stiff gait as before, her stick tapping lightly upon the tiled floor as she crossed the lounge.

She held out one hand, and her maid handed her a scroll, which she held up to the scanner on the egress gate to open it, allowing her and her maid both to depart the lounge and pass onto the concourse.

Then, as the gate closed after them, Lady Nikos turned to face Sunset and Jaune.

"My lady," Sunset said, bowing to her, "I bid you welcome to the Kingdom of Vale."

"My lady," Jaune repeated, somewhat matching Sunset's bow.

"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, sounding a little out of breath. "It is good to see you again. Mister Arc." She paused a moment. "Pyrrha—"

"Is unavoidably detained, my lady," Sunset said. "She bid us come in her stead, welcome you, and see you safely settled in."

"'Unavoidably detained'?" Lady Nikos repeated. "How?"

"Pyrrha is … recording for a TV programme," Jaune explained. "It's a Mistralian documentary about the Vytal Festival, and she and Arslan Altan are doing some presenting for it."

"Is that so?" Lady Nikos asked. "How did that come about?"

"Arslan did us — did me — a good service, my lady," Sunset admitted. "She asked for Pyrrha to do her this favour in return."

"I see," Lady Nikos said. "Very well then, that is what it is, although I must say they have left it rather late."

"Apparently, the production is almost complete, and the lead time is not onerous, my lady."

"I do seem to recall that the commercial for that ghastly cereal was released very swiftly after the filming was completed," Lady Nikos admitted. "It can be done, I suppose. In any case, Pyrrha is not here, but I am glad not to have been greeted by absence alone."

"It is our pleasure to attend you, my lady," Sunset said.

"Flattery can be carried to excess, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, a slight degree of amusement entering into her voice. "Nonetheless, I am glad to see … both of you. I would have speech with you, in absence of my daughter. But not here, somewhere more private, and somewhere without this skylight generating such oppressive heat."

"It is cooler without, my lady," Sunset promised. "Much cooler; fall is fully upon us. Does…?” She hesitated a moment, fearful of overstepping the bounds of propriety. But, at the same time, watching Lady Nikos made it very difficult not to ask, “Does my lady require any assistance?”

“No, thank you, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos replied. “I am merely a little stiff from so long cooped up aboard an airship.”

Sunset wasn’t sure exactly how true that was, but nevertheless, she offered a slight bow, and said, “As my lady says. If you will follow me.”

As she turned away, in the direction of the exit, she heard Jaune say, “Do you need any help?”

Sunset looked back at him, wondering why he was offering Lady Nikos the same assistance that he must have just heard her refuse from Sunset, but as she looked back, she realised that he was not speaking to the lady, but to the maid.

He held one hand out in the direction of the large case.

“I’m fine, sir; I can manage,” replied the maid. She had dark hair, flecked with grey, and a few barely visible lines beneath her light brown eyes.

“Are you sure?” Jaune asked.

“Quite sure, sir,” the maid replied, her tone clipped, her voice verging upon sharpness.

“That is … generous of you, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos said, not looking back at him. “Hestia, permit it.”

The maid — Hestia — hesitated for a moment. Then she curtsied, though her mistress had her back to her. “As you say, ma’am,” she said. “Here you go, young sir.”

“Thanks,” Jaune, taking the case from her now unprotesting hands, lifting it up — it cannot have seemed so heavy to him, with aura, as it had seemed to her — and carrying it along in the wake of Sunset and Lady Nikos as the four of them made their way towards the exit.

Sunset kept her pace slow, so as not to outpace Lady Nikos; she put one foot barely before the other, moving along at an easy pace, betraying no sign of impatience with Pyrrha’s mother as she walked beside her.

She kept her gaze on Lady Nikos, though she tried to hide the fact, in case she slipped or stumbled or it all became too much for her.

It did not, and they made it outside of the skydock, where absent the great skylight, it was much cooler, the crisp fall air lightly tapping them upon the faces. There was a carpark to the south of the skydock, but directly in front of them was an empty taxi rank, and a road flowing by directly beyond, with cars zipping along it, including at least one yellow cab that Sunset could see.

“If my lady will wait here, I will get us a taxi,” Sunset said, before walking out to the edge of the taxi rank and holding out her hand. “Taxi!”

A yellow cab drove past her, completely ignoring her.

So did another one, blind or oblivious to Sunset’s outstretched hand.

Sunset frowned and stepped out into the road, yelling again, “Taxi!”

A car swerved to avoid her, honking its horn as it did so; another yellow taxi drove past without acknowledgement of who she was or what she wanted.

It’s 'cause I’m a faunus, isn’t it?

A scowl settled on Sunset’s face as she stomped back to Lady Nikos and the others.

“Call us a cab, Jaune,” she barked, snapped almost. Perhaps she did snap, although it wasn’t Jaune’s fault. “Please.”

“Uh, right,” Jaune said, putting the heavy case down and walking out to the taxi rank. He didn’t even go as close to the edge of the road as Sunset had before sticking his hand out. “Taxi?”

Two cabs — two cabs, if you please — rolled up.

It was only her desire to maintain her dignity in front of Lady Nikos that prevented Sunset from saying something unseemly.

“So, it is true what has been said in Mistral,” Lady Nikos murmured.

“I have no doubt that many things are said in Mistral, my lady, but I must ask you to be more specific as to what is true,” Sunset murmured.

“That the city of Vale, the heart of this enlightened kingdom of tolerance, as it would proclaim itself, is becoming unsafe for faunus,” Lady Nikos said.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it unsafe, my lady,” Sunset said, as she picked up Lady Nikos’ case and began to carry it towards the first of the two waiting cabs, “but there is an ill-mood against us. I am surprised the word of it has reached Mistral.”

“There is a degree of schadenfreude to it, considering Mistral’s reputation in that regard,” Lady Nikos confessed, “but it is part of news that had some suggesting that it was foolish of me to come here, that this city is becoming a rough, rowdy, violent place, unsafe for good Mistralians.”

“That is exaggerated, my lady, let me assure you,” Sunset declared as she approached the rear of the cab and popped the trunk, lifting Lady Nikos’ case into it. “Some here in Vale are exhibiting coarse manners, towards Atlesians or towards faunus, but this city is as safe as anywhere in Remnant, and more than many places.”

Lady Nikos turned her eyes towards the sky. “I hope the Valish are having joy of our ships,” she remarked.

Hestia got in the front seat of the cab, leaving Sunset, Jaune, and Lady Nikos to share the back. Jaune got in first, scooting across to the far side of the back row, with Lady Nikos getting in after him and Sunset last, leaving her to shut the door after them all.

“Where to, ma’am?” asked the cab driver.

“The Hotel Majestic,” Lady Nikos said.

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the cab driver, pulling away and back into the flow of traffic.

As the taxi drove along, devouring the road beneath it, Sunset looked at Lady Nikos and said, “What news from Mistral, my lady?”

“Mistral?” Lady Nikos responded. “Mistral is Mistral, in all its faults and all its glories too, as it had been these many years past.” She paused a moment. “I suppose that is not entirely accurate; we have broken with our recent past in one crucial aspect: it seems that we are to raise an army.”

Sunset stopped herself from asking why; the answer was plain to see: “Because of the Breach, ma’am?”

“Because Mistral is no longer certain that a small number of huntsmen can be relied upon to defend the city,” Lady Nikos said. “Which, yes, is the result of this Breach in Vale; it concentrated many minds on what would have happened if such a thing had happened in Mistral. We have purchased androids from the Atlesians, and men are being raised in arms.”

“What kind of men?” asked Jaune. “I mean, not huntsmen, I guess, so—”

“Poor fellows, I think, for the most part,” Lady Nikos said. “Some will have a hankering for adventure, but I believe that more will have a hankering for steady pay and three meals.”

“Meanwhile, you have sold your warships to the Valish,” Sunset could not help but observe.

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “I am not inherently opposed to the idea that Mistral should have an army — we have been haunted by the ghost of Ares Claudandus and his host for far too long — but either we have woken up to the need to look to our own defences, or we have not. Even if the two warships are old and obsolete, then I must believe they are better than no ships at all; to sell them before they have been replaced by newer vessels suggests that the security of Mistral is not being treated with the utmost seriousness.”

“Then why are you raising an army?” asked Jaune. “Isn’t that pretty serious, my lady?”

“Because it attunes with the agenda long held by Lady Ming and her Self-Strengthening movement,” Lady Nikos said. “Long has she desired to restore Mistralian power upon the stage of Remnant. As I say, the idea is not inherently without merit, if properly implemented.”

“And…” Sunset paused a moment, considering whether this was an appropriate topic of conversation with Pyrrha’s mother. However, Lady Nikos had no doubt been following closely the ebb and flow of Pyrrha’s reputation of late, and she had spoken about it with Pyrrha, granting her blessing to her challenge against Cinder. It would feel strange not to mention it. “And how fares Pyrrha’s reputation, my lady?”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment or two, her back unbending, her face unyielding.

“There have always been those who have resented either Pyrrha or the House of Nikos,” she said, in a voice as hard as stones cascading down the mountainside. “Either for Pyrrha’s own skill or for the fame that she possesses, for the place that she has in the heart of the people; or else for her name, thinking that the House of Nikos is too wealthy, too important still in Mistral, too … I sometimes think that there are some who think we are too extant and that things will not be well until the line of Nikos has been rendered extinct. Of course, the very things that they resented about my daughter made them quiet; her popularity made it impossible to speak out against her. Now that they have the semblance, the illusion of good cause, they, like maggots and worms, feel free to crawl out of the shadows where they have lurked and spew their bile openly.”

Again she took pause.

“If Pyrrha thought that her victory over Miss Fall would silence all detractors once again, I fear that she was much mistaken.”

“Then … then it was all for nothing?” asked Jaune.

Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “'For nothing,' Mister Arc? No, not for nothing, not in the least. Pyrrha proved that she was willing to answer her critics with her very life, and her victory has burnished up her reputation yet further. She convinced many who might have wavered in their convictions. But, as some philosopher or other has no doubt observed before now, you cannot reason someone out of a position that they were not reasoned into, and those who hated, feared, or loathed Pyrrha before this will not be reasoned out by such a thing as a battle to the death.”

She took a breath. “But they are worms indeed, maggots and worms; I do not fear them. Pyrrha should not fear them either.”

“Are you … are you sure, my lady?” asked Sunset. “I mean no disrespect, but Pyrrha has mentioned that there are, or were, moves afoot to strip her honours from the Temple of Victory.”

“That will not happen,” Lady Nikos declared. “Those who seek for it would need to prove much greater cause than they have in order to accomplish it. The last Champion to have their name erased and cast to oblivion was an attainted traitor to Mistral, who was seen by a whole army on the wrong side of a great battle. Compared to that, these allegations are nothing, mere words with no proof, just insinuations spewed out by some anonymous gossipmonger. That is not reason enough to go against the verdict of arms.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Sunset murmured. “Nevertheless, I … I must again apologise for placing Pyrrha in such a position, my lady—”

“You were deceived, Miss Shimmer, as I understand,” Lady Nikos said. “That should, itself, be a subject for regret, but regret of a different sort than you express now.”

“That … my lady is most generous.”

“My lady sees clearly,” Lady Nikos said. “It is an unfortunate state of affairs, I will admit, but envy is ever the lot of the great; the only way to avoid it is to settle for mediocrity, to live a little life, accomplishing nothing. Pyrrha is made for more than that by far. Aye, it is the lot of greatness … and the lot of Mistral too, I fear. Eighty years since the Great War ended, seventy-five years since Ares Claudandus was brought down, and our politics still feel … febrile, unsettled. ‘The Princess Without a Crown’; so much weight would not be placed upon the Nikos name if there were not still those who hearkened to the restoration of the monarchy, if there were not those who feared the same in equal measure, if there were not those who thought the Council illegitimate or looked upon the Steward as a caretaker only.

“There has been much written, not least by we Mistralians ourselves, as to why Mistral has declined over the years, but I think that one reason is that we are not comfortable in the ordering of our affairs, we have not taken to the idea of a Council as Vale or Atlas have; it seems an alien thing, imposed upon us from without. Few love it, and yet, there is no consensus on what should be put in its place.”

“Does my lady have any thoughts upon the matter?” asked Sunset.

“The Council is too small, for a start,” Lady Nikos said, “There is no voice for the great families of Mistral, no way for any number of New Men to be shepherded to power and prominence. With a Council of five and two of those seats occupied by the Steward and the Headmaster of Haven, the lords and ladies of Mistral are left to scrap over what little power is yet available to them, while men of talent and ambition rage at the limited scope for their advancement. And all of this squabbling over the bones of a realm fallen in might and in majesty.”

She paused a moment. “But enough of this; let gloomy talk of Mistral lie in Mistral where it belongs. How is Pyrrha?”

Sunset felt it was exceedingly fortunate that Lady Nikos was asking that now, and not just a little while earlier when she might have been forced to lie. “Pyrrha is in good health and in good spirits, my lady. She is in fine fettle.”

“Is that so, Mister Arc?” Lady Nikos asked. “Is Pyrrha in fine fettle?”

“Yes!” Jaune yelped. “Yes, my lady, Pyrrha is … Pyrrha’s great, Pyrrha … Pyrrha’s doing great.”

Lady Nikos looked at Jaune for a moment. “It was Pyrrha’s birthday not long ago,” she said. “How did you celebrate?”

Ah, yes, I should have expected that this would come up. “My lady,” Sunset murmured. “I must confess that we … we have been … preoccupied of late. I fear the celebrations for Pyrrha’s birthday were … not in keeping with her deserving.”

“Is that so?” Lady Nikos asked.

“It is, my lady.”

“Hmm,” Lady Nikos murmured. “No doubt, that pleased Pyrrha very much.”

Sunset could not restrain a slight laugh. “Indeed, my lady, she was not displeased.”

Nevertheless, despite the fact that Lady Nikos apparently bore no malice over the fact, she did not mention the fact that they had missed the day until Pyrrha mentioned it.

She hoped that Jaune would not bring it up either.

“Nevertheless, I would have hoped for better,” Lady Nikos declared. “Tell me, what is this preoccupation of yours?”

Many things that would, I fear, shock you into ageing yet further, my lady, Sunset thought. “A … we have a charge, my lady, laid upon us by Professor Ozpin. The headmaster’s niece, Amber, was attacked, wounded, and spent some many months in a coma as a result. Now that she has awakened, Professor Ozpin, fearful that some villain may attempt to harm her again, has tasked us with protecting and caring for her. That is why Ruby couldn’t be here to greet you alongside us; someone has to stay with Amber and ensure her safety while we are here and Pyrrha is recording. Pyrrha is very taken with her; they have already formed a close bond, but it has taken a great deal of our attention recently.”

Lady Nikos’ somewhat wrinkled brow was wrinkled yet further by a perplexed frown. “This seems somewhat strange to my ears,” she said. “I can understand an uncle’s fears for his kin, but why, and what gives him the right, to outsource that duty to his students? Let him hire a huntsman and let you concentrate upon preparations for the Vytal Festival!”

“I assure you, my lady, we are well-prepared for the tournament,” Sunset said, glad to move the subject onto ground where there was not the need to tell so many lies or half-truths to Lady Nikos. “If we are selected, I give you my word that you will not find us wanting.”

Lady Nikos might have questioned that more, but at the moment, they arrived at their destination, the cab pulling up in front of a tall, luxurious-looking hotel with a white marble or marble-seeming front, with great columns in the Mistralian style on either side of the door and stone gargoyles perched upon the higher levels of the building, looking down with ugly, leering faces.

Sunset couldn’t see the appeal of such things, let alone why they had become a symbol of opulence, but nevertheless, a symbol of such they were.

Also a symbol of opulence was the doorman in a red jacket and top hat, with white gloves on his hands and polished brass buttons on his coat, who smiled as he opened the door of the taxi.

His smile faltered when he saw that it was Sunset Shimmer sitting there.

“Relax,” Sunset told him. “I’m just here escorting my Lady Nikos.” She climbed out of the cab, and gestured to where Lady Nikos sat. “She is your guest.”

The doorman did a poor job of hiding his relief as he tipped his hat. “Welcome to the Hotel Majestic, ma’am.”

“I have some luggage in the trunk,” Lady Nikos informed him.

“Of course, ma’am,” the doorman said, getting Lady Nikos’ bags out of the boot of the taxi while Lady Nikos paid the cab driver, then she and Jaune and Hestia got out of the cab, which drove away while the doorman carried Lady Nikos’ luggage inside.

Lady Nikos checked in and was shown to a palatial suite on the tenth floor. A four poster bed with soft silk hangings of royal blue sat facing the large window that looked across one of the nicer, more historic parts of Vale. There was a plush green footstool sitting at the foot of the bed and a complementary dressing gown with the ornate HM livery of the hotel picked out in gold upon it. The carpet was exceedingly soft under Sunset’s feet, and there was a bowl of fruit — real or imitation, Sunset couldn’t say — placed on a small table in the centre of the main chamber. The dressing table had a gilt vanity mirror and a faux-marble tabletop, while there was a luxuriant green armchair, a chaise-longue for reclining, and a working chair tucked beneath a writing desk all present, and that was before they got to the presence of an adjoining room for Hestia.

“This will serve,” Lady Nikos declared, looking around the room. “Hestia, excuse us for a little while; I will call when I require you.”

Hestia curtsied. “Of course, my lady,” she said, and retreated into her separate adjoining room, shutting the door behind her.

Sunset and Jaune were left alone with Lady Nikos, who regarded them with keen eyes.

Her gaze settled upon Jaune.

"Miss Shimmer," she said, not looking at Sunset, not taking her eyes off of Jaune, "will you wait without? I would speak with you and will summon you, but for now, I would have private conference with Mister Arc."

Sunset bowed. "As my lady wishes."

Sunset left. Jaune really wished that she wouldn't.

He could feel the sweat beneath his armpits as Sunset retreated out of the luxurious hotel room, closing the door behind her with what seemed to him to be a very final thud. He could only hope that the black of his hoodie would hide the sweat stains from Lady Nikos' eyes.

Although if it started to drip down his arms, then she would certainly notice that. That was one of the reasons why he was holding his arms tightly against his sides.

Lady Nikos looked at him. She stared at him, her green eyes — so much colder than Pyrrha's, or so it seemed to him — drilling into him.

It was all very well for Sunset to tell him that he held the power in this relationship, on account of the fact that Pyrrha had chosen him over her mother, but that didn't change the fact that this woman frightened him. He wanted to cringe before her.

Come on, get it together; I've faced so much worse than this.

I faced down Reuben; I can face Pyrrha's mom as well.

But of course, there was a crucial difference there: Reuben thought that Jaune was worthless, and he had been wrong about that; Lady Nikos thought that he wasn't good enough for Pyrrha, and on that … well, she kinda had a point, didn't she?

"Please don't talk like that, Jaune; I hate it when you talk like that."

The voice was in his head, but it sounded like Pyrrha, to the extent that Jaune almost fancied that he could feel her breath on his cheek as she whispered into his ear.

She — he, whatever — was right; Pyrrha wouldn't want him to be scared here; she wouldn't want him to be afraid of her mother.

Jaune tried to straighten his back and push his shoulders back a little.

But he still kept his arms by his side, because he was still sweating.

Lady Nikos leaned upon her walking stick. He didn't remember her needing one before, although she'd walked with a limp. Had she gotten worse? Was she ill?

"Would…" Jaune swallowed. "Would you like to sit down, my lady?"

"If I wished to sit, I would sit, and need no permission from you before I did so, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos snapped.

Jaune winced. "Right. Of course. Um, my lady."

Lady Nikos closed her eyes, breathing deeply in, her grip upon the handle of her stick — it was silver, and shaped like the head of a phoenix — tightening until her knuckles whitened.

"Mister Arc," she said, her voice growing quieter, if not necessarily softer. "It appears … it is a truth that I owe you … an apology. Regardless of my opinion of you, it was a low deed on my part to lie to you as regards Pyrrha's … status, her … availability. I had the right to disapprove of you and to make plain my disapproval, but in deceit, I overstepped the bounds of honour and propriety. And for that, you have my regret."

Her words were stiff, and sounded as though they were being wrenched out of her gullet, but because of that, they didn't sound insincere; maybe they were — she'd already lied to him once, after all — but when she'd lied to him, the lie had come much easier than this sounded. And whether it was a lie or not, the fact remained that she was apologising to him. That was something, right?

"Apology accepted, my lady," he said quietly.

Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "That is it?"

Jaune blinked. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I did not expect it to be so easily done," Lady Nikos replied. "Is there no price you would exact for my misconduct?"

"I don't think there's anything you could give me greater than…" Jaune trailed off; it wasn't right to talk about Pyrrha as a thing he owned. "Even if I wanted you to pay, my lady, you've paid already with the months that Pyrrha wouldn't speak to you. It's done; it's over. I don't want to be your enemy, my lady; all I want … is to make Pyrrha happy. And while that might not be exactly what you wanted, you were trying to do what was best for her, as you saw it."

Lady Nikos looked at him. "That is very maturely spoken, Mister Arc," she murmured.

"Thank you, my lady?"

Lady Nikos turned away from him, moving stiffly towards the large window, as tall as Jaune or maybe even taller, that looked out over the city. "Do you know the origins of our family, Mister Arc?"

"I know that Pyrrha is descended from the Emperors of Mistral," Jaune said.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos said. "But beyond that? Do you know how our line began, or is said to have begun?"

"Um … with the first Emperor, my lady?" Jaune ventured.

"True, if rather obvious," Lady Nikos allowed. "But do you know who he was?"

Jaune hesitated. "No, my lady."

"No, I didn't imagine Pyrrha would have spoken of it," Lady Nikos said. "It would sit ill with someone who … wished to appear 'normal' to claim descent from gods."

Jaune swallowed. "From gods?"

Lady Nikos let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I did not think that Pyrrha would have spoken of it, although if you had attended Haven Academy, it would have been taught as part of the mythic history of our city. If one believes the myths and legends, then Theseus, he who raised the first buildings on the mountaintop and slew the arachne that dwelt in the catacombs beneath, he who united all the peoples who dwelt round about into a single polity and from whose line the Emperors of Mistral would spring, was the son of the sea god Tithys by a mortal woman. In the course of his labours, he fell in love with Alcestis, a companion hero in his quest and the daughter of the sky gods Seraphis and Re, and on their return to nascent Mistral, they were wed. If one believes in myths and legends; few enough do these days."

Jaune's mouth felt very dry, but he found his voice sufficient to say, "I think … I think that I'd prefer not to believe it, for the sake of feeling a little less inferior."

Lady Nikos snorted. "Yes, Mister Arc, I suppose that is one lesson to be taken from the story: inferiority. Who, after all, could compare against a god? Who could be worthy of the descendant of a god, or even an emperor?" She paused. "I confess that … that was my thought, looking at you, a Valishman of no birth, of no … nothing, wondering what in Remnant you possessed that would make Pyrrha look at you with such … eyes. You are a handsome youth, I will concede, sweet-faced and lithe of limb without descending overmuch into skinniness."

"Uh…" Jaune murmured, wondering if he ought to thank Lady Nikos for the compliment.

"And yet, there are many handsome youths in Mistral, or so I told myself," Lady Nikos went on. "Mistralian, and better born." She paused. "I own myself a hypocrite, Mister Arc."

"My … lady?"

Lady Nikos turned around, her back to the window, facing Jaune once more. "Has Pyrrha … has she talked of her father?"

Jaune shook his head. "No, my lady."

"I was not the beauty that my daughter is, even in the blush of youth," Lady Nikos admitted, "and yet, such was my wealth and the grandeur of my old name that I had many suitors. Suitors of families almost as old as mine, wealthy burghers well-connected in the Guildhall. And yet … I took the view that I was rich enough, or would be rich enough when I inherited from my father, and well born enough for myself and for any husband I might choose; I preferred a brave man to a wealthy one."

"You … married a commoner, my lady?" Jaune asked.

"Goodness no, Mister Arc; we must have some standards," Lady Nikos said dryly. "Achilles was a hippeis, do you know what that word means?"

Silently, Jaune shook his head.

"It means that, in days of old, he would have been considered wealthy enough to equip himself for war as a horseman," Lady Nikos explained. "I believe the Valish equivalent would be 'knight,' shorn perhaps of some cultural connotations." She paused. "I believe your father is a landowner, Mister Arc?"

"That … that's right, my lady," Jaune murmured. "It's not much, but—"

"And who stands to inherit?"

"My oldest sister, Rouge," Jaune said.

He thought about mentioning that Rouge didn't have any children of her own, but first of all, he wasn't entirely sure who it would go to after that — Saphron was the next oldest, but she lived far away, so it might go to River and then her children — and second of all, that was none of Lady Nikos' business anyway.

Lady Nikos gave a faint nod of her head. "So," she said, "are you a brave man, Mister Arc?"

"I … try to be, my lady."

"Mmm," Lady Nikos murmured wordlessly. Again, she paused a moment or two. "And do you understand what is…?" She trailed off, seeming to fail in choosing her words.

Jaune frowned slightly. "My lady?"

"One reads a great deal these days about Modern Young People," Lady Nikos said, with audible capital letters. "In Vale, in Atlas — although in this particular instance, it does not appear to be the root of modernity — and even in Mistral, of the … relaxing of social mores, of the lessening of standards, or perhaps it would be fairer to speak of the rise of new standards, different than those that came before. Of the … casualisation of relations between boys and girls, or boys and boys and girls and girls and what have you, so that that which the satirists of yesteryear railed against now seems staid and stuffy by comparison—"

"My lady," Jaune said, cutting her off, "I think I can guess where this is going, so let me stop you there and spare you the embarrassment of going on."

Lady Nikos raised her eyebrows. "That is very kind of you, Mister Arc," she said in a tone as dry as dust.

"I don't know whether you were going to warn me, or threaten me, or demand answers or something else," Jaune admitted. "But I can give you an answer all the same: this isn't something casual for me. I'm not planning to dump Pyrrha after a year, or two, or after graduation; I'm not about to use her and then throw her away; trust me, my lady, there's nothing you can say that I haven't heard already from Sunset, and I'll tell you exactly what I told her: that Pyrrha has given me her heart, and I mean to take good care of it, as she does mine.

"I love your daughter, and she loves me, and I don't see what else matters at the end of the day, my birth or hers or how much land my father owns, so what? It might matter to you, but it doesn't seem to matter to Pyrrha, and so … and so, it doesn't matter to me, either."

Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "You say that you try to be a brave man," she said. "I sincerely hope that it took some courage for you to say that, Mister Arc."

"Just a bit, my lady."

"Hmph," Lady Nikos muttered. "Eros, it seems, has struck Pyrrha with his irresistible arrows, and you as well, it would appear. That being so … who am I to stand against the decrees of fate?" Her mouth twisted into a sour expression, as though she would have rather liked to stand against such. "I would highly recommend that you remember Pyrrha's birthday next year, Mister Arc, and a belated gift for this year would hardly go amiss."

"Yes, my lady."

"You are dismissed," Lady Nikos declared. "Bid Miss Shimmer come in."

Sunset was standing outside the door as if on guard; it would have felt inexcusable, in the present circumstances, with Lady Nikos just beyond, to have slouched or leaned against the wall or do anything else but maintain a rigid, upright posture, perfectly poised as befit a gentlemare.

It felt a little bit as though she were waiting to be called into the princess' study for a dressing down.

Save that I have done … not nothing wrong, but nothing worthy of a serious scolding.

I've only forgotten Pyrrha's birthday and left us unprepared for the Vytal Festival.

I had good reasons for both of those.

Not that Lady Nikos knows that or can know that.

Our natural talent will see us through the latter, and as for the former … I am contrite; I have no good excuse, save that Pyrrha herself seemed little concerned by it.

If I were Lady Nikos, then I would be more concerned with the duel, but Lady Nikos approved of that.

I have little cause for apprehension. It is only the circumstance that makes me apprehensive.

The door opened, and Jaune stepped out, leaving the door open behind him. He sagged with relief.

"How did it go?" Sunset asked, ever so softly.

Jaune let out a ragged breath. "Better than I thought it would."

Sunset snorted, the corners of her lips turning up. "I can see that."

Jaune ignored that, saying only, "You're up."

Sunset nodded. "Are you going to wait for me or are you going to head back?"

"I'll wait," Jaune assured her.

"Thank you," Sunset said, clasping her hands together behind her back as she walked inside. With a deft touch of telekinesis, she shut the door — a quite heavy door; she had heard nothing of what passed between Jaune and Lady Nikos; evidently, this hotel took the privacy of its guests very seriously; how much could even Hestia overhear? — behind her.

"My lady," she murmured, bowing once again.

"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos murmured, before she shuffled across the room and sank into the expansive armchair, which absorbed her slender, bony frame as though it were a monster set to devour her. A sigh of relief escaped Lady Nikos' wrinkled lips.

Sunset frowned. "If my lady will permit me, that does not seem to be a mere case of stiff limbs."

"I told you once, Miss Shimmer, that I was old before my time," Lady Nikos declared. "I seem more Pyrrha's grandmother than her mother, and I am only getting older. Yet, what of that? I have given strength to Mistral, and glory renewed such as has scarce been seen these many years. If aching joints and infirm legs are the price that I must pay, then I will pay it with a high heart." She gestured around the room to the other chairs. "You may sit, Miss Shimmer, if you wish."

"Thank you, my lady," Sunset said and perched herself down upon the edge of the chaise-longue, her back straight, her shoulders back, her ears pricked up.

One advantage of sitting down was that it was harder for her tail to twitch, and harder still for Lady Nikos to see it.

"Does it upset you?" asked Lady Nikos. "The sudden upsurge in hostility to the faunus, I mean."

"I … am not a firebrand for faunus rights, my lady," Sunset said. "It offends me, but it does not fill me with a rage against injustice."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "Mister Arc tells me that you warned him to take care of Pyrrha's heart."

"Did he, my lady?" asked Sunset softly.

"Yes, he did, Miss Shimmer."

"Then I hope you will forgive the presumption, my lady."

"I have no objection to it," Lady Nikos said. "Though it somewhat surprises me."

Sunset laughed just a little, and self-effacingly, she hoped. "I … I am conscious, my lady, that the unique glory of our sex — though indeed, it is no great glory to be coveted, nor is it always to our advantage — is that of loving longest, even when hope, or even existence, of… love, or of being loved in return, is gone. Men do not always appreciate that, nor should they always, but nevertheless, I sought to remind Jaune of it because … because Pyrrha is dear to me, my lady." If I may venture to say it, she has my heart, even as she has Jaune's. But no, she would not venture to say it, not to Pyrrha's mother. If taken sincerely, it would seem too saccharine; if taken insincerely, it would seem overly familiar, a ham-handed attempt to curry favour through protestations of devotion. Rather, she said, "Dearer, even, than my fondness for other young girls in love for whom I will confess a somewhat weakness."

“I see,” Lady Nikos said softly. “Miss Shimmer, what is going on here in Vale?”

Sunset hesitated. “Would my lady like to be more specific?”

“My lady would indeed like to be more specific,” Lady Nikos said, “but so much madness seems to have engulfed this kingdom that my lady scarce knows where to begin. Dust robberies involving the White Fang in alliance with local criminality; some sort of grimm cultist with an animus against my daughter dancing in the shadows; a plot to open a way for a horde of grimm to storm into Vale, red in tooth and claw; rumours of treachery; the Mistralian embassy blown up; battle after battle; and now, feelings against the faunus and the Atlesians running high. I say again, Miss Shimmer, what is going on? You tell me that Vale is safe, and I begin to wonder if you are either delusional or you think me beef-witted.”

“I certainly do not think you stupid, my lady,” Sunset assured her.

“And your delusions?”

“That remains to be seen, my lady.”

Lady Nikos arched one eyebrow. “In the present circumstances, I do not find that very amusing, Miss Shimmer.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” Sunset begged. “I … it is true, that we have endu— we have experienced a great deal in one year, as has Vale…” And that was not even a comprehensive list, my lady. “To the extent, I sometimes feel as though we need a vacation to rest after everything that happened over our vacation.” She sighed. “I can see how my words at the skydock might have sounded glib or nonsensical … what I meant was that, with the power of the Atlesian fleet, with the greater preparedness of the Valish forces, with the ships bought from Mistral, with so many students here … there is no risk of Vale being overrun, or at least, I do not think there is.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Lady Nikos said. “That does not answer my question, however; what is going on? I have heard from Polemarch Yeoh, who told me that Pyrrha warned that similar dangers may soon descend on Mistral, and over all kingdoms.”

“I … see,” Sunset murmured. Pyrrha hadn’t told her that she’d said that, although it made sense that she would; there came a point, arguably, at which keeping secrets put others in danger. “How wide has this warning gone?”

“Polemarch Yeoh only informed me because she wondered if I knew of it,” Lady Nikos confessed. “Beyond that, I think she has relayed it to the Lady Terri-Belle and to the Lord Steward.”

“Not to Professor Lionheart, my lady?” Sunset asked. Of course, Professor Lionheart knew more already than Polemarch Yeoh could reveal, but it was odd that he had not been informed.

“Professor Lionheart is a servant; if the Lord Steward wishes to inform him, then he will,” Lady Nikos said. “So it is true then, what Pyrrha said?”

“I do not think that all events over the past year are connected, my lady,” Sunset said. “The destruction of the Mistralian embassy was the result of one fool’s ambition and unconnected with everything else, but … yes, it is true. There are…” She paused.

Of course, continuing was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that she, Sunset, didn’t know exactly what Pyrrha had said, to what she had attributed this grave menace threatening all the kingdoms.

It occurred to her that Lady Nikos had not mentioned that, and wondered if the omission was purposeful.

What might Pyrrha have said?

“There are those,” Sunset said, “who are desirous to destroy the kingdoms of Remnant. The White Fang being likewise for a change in the status quo, it made sense for them to ally together — here in Vale, at least; I cannot say how the wider movement feels about all of this. Pyrrha is correct in that I fear they have the mobility and the will to strike in all kingdoms … although unlike Pyrrha, I am not sure that they have the means to do so.”

“Indeed?” Lady Nikos said. “And why is that, Miss Shimmer?”

“Resources, capability, practicalities, my lady,” Sunset replied. “It took Cinder half a year of preparation to launch her assault on Vale in alliance with the White Fang, with the aid — as you say — of the local criminal element. She had to acquire dust, build up her forces … and in a single day of fighting, all of that preparation turned to dust and ashes. Now, she is reduced to fighting Pyrrha in single combat. She has no plan, no means; the scorpion has lost its sting.”

“Then why are there so many Atlesian ships left in the sky?” asked Lady Nikos.

“General Ironwood is a cautious man, my lady,” Sunset said. “My point is, though there are those who would doubtless like to threaten Mistral, they do not have the power to do so.”

“This Cinder Fall may not,” Lady Nikos allowed, “but how do you know that there are not other cultists already in or around Mistral preparing their own designs against us, while Miss Fall worked here in Vale?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Professor Ozpin did not seem particularly concerned that Remnant might experience simultaneous assaults on all the kingdoms at once; nor, for that matter, did General Ironwood, who would scarcely have left Atlas if he expected it to come under attack while he was away. But at the same time, they could be mistaken, and even if they were not, she could hardly say to Lady Nikos that Professor Ozpin acted as though Salem would only attack one place at a time.

“You are correct, my lady; I cannot say that for certain,” Sunset admitted. “Although, if there were so many of these villains, then Cinder would hardly have needed to recruit the White Fang. I think these … cultists are few in number.”

“I can see how you have come to that conclusion, even if it may not be correct,” Lady Nikos allowed, “but how is it that you and Pyrrha have become caught up in this? Are there no seasoned swords able to guard Vale against this menace?”

“Apparently not, my lady,” Sunset murmured. It then occurred to her that that might sound unnecessarily frivolous. “I apologise, again, my lady; that was … I think it is fair to say that we became caught up in this by … not quite by accident, but by a snowball. What began with trying to help a fellow student of ours, Blake Belladonna, became battles with the White Fang, which then alerted us to Cinder’s true intentions, and so, without intending it to go so far, we were led step by step and mile by mile into the catacombs under Mountain Glenn.”

Put like that, she realised, it all sounded … not like Blake’s fault, per se, but something that Sunset could have put a stop to by giving Blake a good firm no at some point early on, when the second semester began, perhaps. What would their lives have looked like if she had?

What would Vale look like if I had?

“My lady,” she said, bowing her head, “I am sorry that Pyrrha has become caught up in this; when I agreed to join with Blake upon some small matter, I little thought that it would lead to this, and yet … I fear that by the point it became clear that it would lead to this, or something like it, Pyrrha’s heart heroic would not allow her to turn away. Pyrrha and Ruby are too bold; it has been all that Jaune and I can do to stand at their sides and share the perils with them.”

“And now?” asked Lady Nikos. “Are there more perils yet to come?”

“A huntress’ life is never free from such, my lady, but in the specific … I hope not,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha need not have encountered Cinder after the Breach had she not sought her out herself, and … as I say, the scorpion has lost its sting: the attempt on Vale has failed, the White Fang are broken here, the stolen dust has all been expended.” And the Fall Maiden is awake again, so even the hope of obtaining all the magic is beyond Cinder. Half the Fall Maiden’s power is all that she possesses now, and that is not enough to break Vale by itself. All that she could try to do is take the Relic, and she doesn’t know where it is or how to get at it. “Whatever Cinder or her allies might wish to do, they cannot do it, at least not for a while longer yet. I believe — I hope — that the storm has passed.”

“And Professor Ozpin’s niece?” Lady Nikos asked. “Was she attacked by this same group? Is that why she is in your charge?”

“She is in our charge because we are her contemporaries in age, and Professor Ozpin felt that she might be more comfortable with us than with distant, older huntsmen,” Sunset said. She ventured a smile. “We are a very convivial group.” She let the smile drop. “My lady … I do not begrudge your questions, or your concern, but the worst is past now; the battle is done. Please, allow no worries to distract you. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the tournament. It will be worth it, I guarantee.”

It was evening by the time that Pyrrha called upon her mother. The curtains were not drawn in the hotel room, but the lights were on inside, dimming how much could be seen of the night-lit city beyond.

“Good evening, young mistress,” Hestia said, curtsying to Pyrrha as she opened the door for her and stepped back to allow her inside.

“Good evening, Hestia,” Pyrrha said softly, as she stepped into the room. “And how are you?”

“Very well; thank you, m’lady,” Hestia said.

“That will be all, Hestia,” Mother said as she got up from where she sat at the writing desk, putting aside a book.

Hestia curtsied again. “Yes, m’lady.” She retreated into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Mother.”

“Pyrrha,” Mother said, crossing the distance between them somewhat slowly.

“Are you alright?”

“I am sick of being asked that; I am not dying,” Mother snapped. She reached Pyrrha and gave her a kiss, first on one cheek, and then the other. Her lips felt cracked and a little dry upon Pyrrha’s skin. “I am told that you could not meet me at the skydock because you were filming some sort of documentary?”

Pyrrha made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a wince. “Yes, Arslan and I were doing some … interviews, I suppose you might say. Or talking head bits, as Arslan calls them.”

“Being interviewed?”

“No, interviewing,” Pyrrha explained. “Professor Ozpin and Doctor Oobleck on the history of the Vytal Festival, what it means to Professor Ozpin as Headmaster of Beacon—”

“Less perhaps, than it means to him to be defending Vale against insane worshippers of the grimm,” Mother said.

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “You—?”

“Did you think that Polemarch Yeoh would not speak to me?” Mother asked.

“I didn’t really think about it,” Pyrrha asked.

Mother turned away from her and walked over to the chaise-loungue, sitting on it rather than reclining; perhaps she feared that she would not be able to maintain her dignity while in the reclining position, although it might have been better for her leg if she had lain down.

“Miss Shimmer believes that the danger is past,” Mother declared. “I am not sure you feel the same way, or you would not have spoken to Yeoh as you did.”

“I … am not sure the danger can ever be truly called past,” Pyrrha murmured. “I understand Sunset’s point, or rather, I believe that I can guess Sunset’s point; I have even made something like it myself to the others—”

“But now you have switched positions?”

“If you would let me finish a sentence, Mother, I would much appreciate it,” Pyrrha said quietly.

Her mother’s eyebrows climbed up her wrinkled forehead. “You speak boldly.”

Pyrrha wanted to smile at that, but restrained herself. “Beacon has been good for my confidence,” she said. “So has Jaune. Thank you, Mother, for not treating him too harshly. He says that you were quite tame in your remarks, all things considered. Although did you have to tell him that we were descended from Tithys and Seraphis?”

“I told him that it was reputed in legend and myth; I did not claim it for a fact,” Mother responded. A true lady, of course, did not smirk, but Pyrrha’s mother came close to it as she added. “How did he take it?”

“Well, it didn’t change his attitude towards me that I could tell,” Pyrrha admitted, “but all the same, I wish you hadn’t told him. It’s all nonsense in any case, old superstition; there is no truth to it.”

“You sound very certain of that,” Mother said.

Because there are only two gods, and I am descended from neither of them. “I can believe that there may be forces at work in the world greater than ourselves, but I do not believe that they answer to the names of Tithys and Amphitrite, Seraphis or Re. If there was a Theseus, then he may have had a wife named Alcestis, but she was not the daughter of gods.”

“'If'?” Mother said. “Someone founded Mistral, someone brought our people together on the mountain, someone founded the line of Nikos. That someone might as well answer to the name of Theseus as any other name, no?”

“I suppose so, Mother, yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “My point is that I am glad you were not hostile towards Jaune.”

“What would be the point of hostility?” Mother asked. “It would risk me much and gain me nothing. You love him?”

Pyrrha smiled. “Yes. Yes, Mother, I love him. With all my heart.”

“And you are sure of him?” Mother asked. “This is no dalliance on his part, no fling; you are sure that he is not, as I believe the Valish say … dating you? Having some fun?”

“Those words sound strange upon your tongue, Mother,” Pyrrha said, almost sounding amused.

Mother harrumphed. “They are strange to say; I hope never to have to say them again.”

“In answer to your question,” Pyrrha said, “I am sure of Jaune, yes; he is … he is mine, as I am his.”

“You see him as your future?” Mother asked. “Marriage, children?”

“If our futures permit,” Pyrrha said softly, as soft as the smile on her face. “If it is left up to our choosing, then yes, yes to both. He is a good man, Mother, brave and kind. There is more worth in that than in the long line of Rutulian ancestors.”

Mother did not answer for a few passing moments, looking up at Pyrrha without speaking.

“I would not lose you,” she said. “I confess, when you left my house, I did not expect you to prove so stubborn in this matter. I did not expect … I did not expect him to mean so much to you, that you would choose him over your own family. That is why I was not hostile to him today. You having made your choice, and proving your choice made with your behaviour … what can I do but accept it with what tattered shreds of grace remain to me?”

“Nevertheless,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head, “you have my thanks, for your acceptance and for your apology to Jaune.”

Her Mother breathed in deeply and exhaled just as deeply. “I suppose it would be nice to meet my grandchildren,” she admitted. “Someone must tell them the stories of our house, of its legends, its history, its many glories; I am not sure that you would do it justice.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You are not so old as you look, Mother. If you do not hear the pitter patter of little feet about the house, it will be…” It will be not because you have been taken to the underworld, but because I have, or Jaune. It will be because fortune decreed our happiness should be short-lived.

“Mmm,” Mother murmured, seeming to guess her thoughts. “And so we return, once again, to the matter of danger.”

“In our lives, it is ever present,” Pyrrha said, “and I would hate to become complacent. Sunset’s point is well taken in that I do not expect another attack on Vale to come soon, but I would not predict that the future will be quiet.”

Perhaps if I had killed Cinder, it would be different, but as I did not … who can say what she will do next?

“There is a tempest coming, Pyrrha.”

When and where? In Vale? In Mistral? Soon or late?

Surely, Cinder cannot be ready to move again so quickly.

Perhaps she merely meant to discomfort and to worry me, although if that is the case, why was she so cordial up until then?

But if she meant to warn me, then why was she so cryptic about it?

“Miss Shimmer claims that you became involved in this business by accident.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Certainly, we had no idea when we started where the road would take us.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said at once. “You said that, for Professor Ozpin, hosting the Vytal Festival must seem much less than defending Vale against this menace; you even came close to suggesting that the Vytal Festival was a rather trivial thing.” It was not something she had expected to hear from her mother, to say the least. “He did not make it seem so.” Although she thought that perhaps Professor Ozpin did think so, he had done a fair job of pretending otherwise. “He spoke of what the Vytal Festival means, why it was established, the ideals of peace and friendship that lie behind and underpin it … but, for myself, you have hit it.

“I have spent the last third of my life being acclaimed to the skies having done nothing. Acclaim in the arena, spoils dedicated in the temple, what of it? What of any of it? Once, generals rode in chariots through the streets to dedicate the spoils of real battles, real victories, accomplishments of meaning and import; I merely play-acted at empty copies of those rituals, shadowplay for the people; I was an entertainer, nothing more, and for that, I was called Invincible, declared the Evenstar of our kingdom, its pride and glory reborn.

“But now … now I am doing something real and important. I am saving lives; I am fighting battles that mean something, even as the great heroes and warriors of old Mistral did; I am becoming at last all the things that I pretended to be … even as I cease to be acclaimed for all those things. There is, perhaps, an irony there, but it does not dismay me. This is what I always wanted, one of the things I always wanted, at least; I am doing something for the people of Remnant, and I think…” Pyrrha closed her eyes a moment. “I think I am at last doing something of which my noble ancestors would not feel ashamed.”

Amber's Choice (Rewritten)

Amber’s Choice

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked.

“What?” Rainbow asked, looking at her. “Yeah, I’m fine, of course I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Because you just said you were fine three times,” Twilight pointed out. “And because you’re making fists.”

Rainbow looked down at her hands. She was, indeed, making fists. She hastily unclenched them both and let them hang down by her sides.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, in the teeth of the evidence.

Twilight gave her a Look.

Spike also gave her a look that suggested that he didn’t believe her either. It was weird.

“Twi, don’t look at me like that,” Rainbow said. “And you, especially, don’t look at me like that. A dog shouldn’t look so smart.”

Spike, who was being held in Twilight’s arms, didn’t speak, thankfully, but he did switch from looking sceptical to looking smug. That might have been even worse.

“What’s wrong?” asked Blake.

“She’s worried,” Twilight said. “Aren’t you?”

Rainbow, Twilight — and Spike — and Blake were standing on the edge of one of Beacon’s docking platforms. In the midst of an already crowded Valish sky, the Amity Colosseum was making its way above the city, moving so slowly that you might have almost thought that it was drifting, lazily moving inland towards Beacon, where it would stay until the tournament was over.

It was an impressive sight, but Rainbow’s eyes weren’t really on it, and her heart wasn’t really in appreciating it.

Because the reason why Rainbow, Twilight, and Blake — and Spike — were standing at the docks wasn’t to watch the Amity Colosseum arrive, but to wait for the Crystal Heart to come in from Atlas, with Councillor Cadance on board and Shining Armor and all the rest of their friends and little sisters.

And Rainbow … Twilight was right: Rainbow was worried.

She felt she had a right to be at least a little worried.

“Aren’t you a bit worried, too?” Rainbow asked. “With what’s been happening, with the feelings against Atlas that are coming out…”

“More police are being deployed into the tourist areas of Vale,” Twilight pointed out. “Our friends, the girls, Cadance, they’re not likely to go wandering off into the rough parts of town, are they?”

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “No, they’re not; they’re gonna stick to the nice parts of Vale — you’re right about that — but still … I’m not afraid they’re going to die or anything like that, but that doesn’t mean that I want their vacation to be ruined by some jackass yelling at them or insulting them or refusing to serve them or anything like that.”

“I can understand that,” Blake said, “but, considering that at the start of last semester a more valid concern would have been that if they came to visit for the Festival, then they might get caught up in a White Fang terrorist attack, I’d say that things have improved around here a lot.”

Rainbow glanced at her and smiled out of one corner of her mouth. “Well, okay, yeah, you’ve got a pretty good point about that. I guess some ingrates getting mad about Atlas does feel like small apples compared to what was going on not too long ago.”

Blake frowned. “Isn’t it 'small potatoes'?”

“Apples are generally bigger than potatoes,” Rainbow said, “and my worries aren’t that small.”

“Right,” Blake murmured. “In that case, I think they could be smaller. And more potato-sized. After all, as you said, it’s only the risk of being yelled at or refused service. That’s not even something that would ruin a whole vacation, let alone cause harm. It’s the sort of thing you get over ten minutes after it happened.”

“If it happens once,” Rainbow pointed out. “I just … I wish that things would calm down a little bit, you know? If there was absolutely no trouble at all, they wouldn’t be putting more police into the uptown areas, would they?”

“I suppose not,” Blake admitted. “But even so…”

“They’ll be fine,” Twilight insisted. “They’re going to go from the hotel, to the skydock, to Beacon, and then maybe some sightseeing, shopping. They’re not going on a mission to Mountain Glenn, they’re not going on a train through grimm-infested territory, they’re not fighting the White Fang. It’s Vale, not a warzone. For all its troubles, it’s still a kingdom, a safe-haven of humanity, and that means that it’s safe.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, you’re right. I … I worry too much.”

“Sometimes,” Blake said, “you worry just enough.”

“And other times, yeah, you worry too much,” Twilight added. “But we appreciate it. Most of the time.”

Rainbow snorted. “I’m still going to tell Applejack about stuff so she can keep an eye on everyone.”

“Of course you are,” Twilight muttered.

“Hey, there’s no reason I can’t worry less and take precautions at the same time,” Rainbow insisted. “I … I promised Aunt Holliday and Auntie Lofty that Scootaloo was going to be okay here; they were worried after the Breach.”

“Who?” asked Blake.

“Scootaloo’s aunts; they take care of her,” Rainbow explained. “Because her parents—”

“Travel a lot,” Twilight said. “For work.”

“Oh, sure, they travel for work, and what work is that?” Rainbow demanded. “They’re deadbeats, Twi.”

“Sometimes,” Blake said, “parents don’t have any choice but to leave their children behind.”

Rainbow returned her attention to Blake. “That’s different. You wanted to … be left behind.”

“That doesn’t mean…” Blake trailed off. “Is it really your place to judge Scootaloo’s parents?”

“I wouldn’t,” Rainbow said, “if Scootaloo … maybe you’re right. It doesn’t matter. The point is that Scootaloo is looked after by her dad’s sister and her wife, and I promised them that Scootaloo was going to be safe in Vale.”

“And she will be,” Twilight insisted. “It’s all going to be fine. Vale is going to be fine. Obnoxiousness doesn’t equal danger, and the danger is over for now. You don’t need to fret. If you really thought that Vale was still dangerous, you would have told them not to come. You would have told Scootaloo’s aunts not to let her come. And you know that as well as I do. I think, sometimes, you just like worrying.”

“I don’t like worrying,” Rainbow insisted. “I just have a lot to worry about.”

“Mhmm,” Twilight murmured.

“I don’t!” Rainbow squawked. “Blake, back me up; do you think that I like worrying?”

Blake shrugged.

“Oh, great, thanks,” Rainbow said. “It’s great to know that I have a partner I can count on to have my back.”

“I have your back,” Blake said. “In battle. Outside of battle, if you need someone to tell you that you’re wrong or being stupid or ridiculous, I’m here for you for that too.”

Rainbow half-stared, half-glared at her for a second, before she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

Blake chuckled and put a hand on Rainbow’s shoulder, stroking it gently back and forth.

“They will be fine,” Blake assured her. “It’s all going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow murmured. “Yeah, it’ll be fine, and we’ll go back to Atlas with some great memories.”

There was a moment of silence as the three of them watched the Amity Colosseum drift across Vale, getting larger and larger — slowly, but still — as it approached Beacon.

“I take it that this was an Atlesian idea,” Blake said. “The similarities with Atlas itself are … hard to miss.”

“I wish I could say that, but I think it was actually the Beacon Headmaster’s idea,” Rainbow said. “Not Professor Ozpin, some old Beacon Headmaster.”

“Professor Osfred,” Twilight supplied the name.

Rainbow frowned slightly. “Why do you think they’re all called Oz-something? Maybe it’s a rule; you have to change your name to get the job.”

Twilight chuckled. “They’re not all called Oz-something … just the ones who held the job longest and did the most. Anyway, he was the one who proposed a roaming arena. Before that, the fights were held inside the academies, until they found that there wasn’t room for the size of the crowds.”

“And then Mistral suggested that it should hold the festival permanently, since it had an arena large enough to accommodate the crowds,” Blake said. “That part, I remember. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t go down well with the other kingdoms.”

“Hence Amity,” Twilight agreed. “It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?”

It was, indeed, quite a sight. The Amity Colosseum was not the largest thing in the air — that was Atlas, by a long chalk — but it made the Atlesian cruisers in the sky around it look like minnows next to a whale by comparison, and even the carriers and those bulky Mistralian warships the Valish had bought looked small by comparison; just the docking bays on the arena looked so big that it almost looked as though you could park an Atlesian cruiser there and get the crew off. They probably weren’t quite that big, but they were still very big considering that only skybuses were going to be landing there.

The arena was absolutely massive. Rainbow hadn’t been able to believe how big it was when she got inside, but there were … well, she hadn’t done an exact count, but she reckoned that there were about a hundred rows of seats for the spectators, all rising up from the bottom to the top, and that was without counting the special boxes for the elite spectators who got special service. And that was without taking into account the lounges for those same high class spectators and the concession stands for everyone else; you couldn’t get a meal up there, but you could get popcorn or hotdogs; it was kind of like being at the movies except that there wasn’t much plot — or, considering how the tournament tended to shape out, it might be more true to say that you had to make your own plot with help from the fighters themselves, who was the hero, who was the villain, who was the underdog going to go the distance. Rainbow was aware that labelling someone ‘the villain’ was not exactly in the spirit of the Vytal Festival, but she imagined that Robyn Hill had been a villain to the Mistralians after she beat Terri-Belle Thrax and ended Haven’s best run for the title in years, just like she’d been a hero to Atlas for bringing it home in a year when Atlas had been hosting the tournament.

And then, of course, she’d thrown her hero status away by betraying the General and her uniform, but that hadn’t happened until later. For that tournament, and especially for those final rounds, she had been the hero to one kingdom and the villain to another. What was one kingdom’s triumphant story about rising to the top was another kingdom’s bittersweet story of falling at the last hurdle.

It was like that every couple of years. That was just how it went. The Vytal Festival didn’t have a plot like a movie did, but stories spun up around it nonetheless, just because of how important it was.

That was why there were so many sports stories about the tournament. Heck, they’d even been about to make a movie about Robyn Hill before she became an outlaw.

The Arena was shaped roughly like a cone, beginning with the large hunk of dust — it wasn’t real dust, which you could tell because gravity dust was purple, and this fake dust at the bottom was grey, but it looked cool enough — sticking out of the bottom, shards pointing down towards the ground; there was a grey metal base, rounded like a bowl, curving upwards; then there the docking bays, two whole layers of them, with enormous arches that you could see in through a little bit, even at this distance; and then above that, giant panes of glass that you see all the lights and the cameras up top; and then, finally, the grey metal ceiling curling in on itself.

It was something to see for sure.

But as Rainbow watched it come in, moving slowly and carefully, her mind was more on what kind of stories would be spun around this tournament. Who would be the hero, who would be the villain, who would be the underdog.

Pyrrha. Pyrrha is going to be the hero. That’s pretty much set in stone already.

Except for the people who still think she was working with Cinder; I guess to them, she’ll be the villain.

“Rainbow Dash,” Blake said, breaking into Rainbow’s thoughts, “I’ve heard that you’re thinking about going through to the one-on-one rounds of the tournament?”

“Did Twilight tell you that?” Rainbow asked, kind of amused.

“I didn’t think it was a secret,” Twilight said.

“It’s not,” Rainbow replied. “Not least because if I do it, then everyone will see me on TV.”

“I’m a little surprised,” Blake murmured.

“You weren’t the only one,” Twilight added.

“I…” Rainbow trailed off before she could say that she deserved this. “The only reason…” She searched for a way in which she could put this without sounding harsh, or down on Penny.

“Penny doesn’t want to be an Atlas student,” she said. “Penny doesn’t want to be a part of the kingdom of Atlas. That’s fine. That’s her right. She wants to go to Beacon and be a Beacon student, that’s also fine, and you both know that I helped her with that and I went to the General and I went to Cadance and I backed her up on that. But if she doesn’t want to be a part of Atlas or an Atlas student, then she can’t also turn around and say that she wants to represent Atlas in the tournament. Standing for your kingdom and your school in the limelight with all the world watching you is a privilege, not a right, and it’s a privilege that Penny forfeited when she decided that she wanted out. Atlas deserves better than to be represented by someone who is going to tear their uniform off the second the lights go out.” She paused. “That … that kind of got away from me a little bit; I’m afraid it sounded mean.”

“Harsh, more than mean,” Twilight ventured.

“A little … vindictive,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow scowled. “Robyn Hill,” she muttered.

“Pardon?” asked Blake.

“Robyn Hill, she…” Rainbow took a deep breath. “She told Penny that … that everyone would turn on her once she decided to walk away, because no one is allowed to walk away, but really … I’d like to say that she was as full of it as she is with everything else that she opens her mouth about, but … I get why Penny wants to leave, which is more than I can say for Robyn; I guess… the similarity, I don’t know. I know that Penny isn’t malicious, I know why she’s doing what she’s doing, and on the whole I support it. I’m not baffled by it, I don’t find it incredible, I’m not mad at her, but … but this stuff matters. This tournament matters. You can say that it doesn’t save lives, it doesn’t make any real difference, you can say it’s all play acting, it’s irrelevant … but it’s not. People watch this, and that’s really cool if you’re the one being watched, obviously, but the people who watch this are looking for heroes; kids are looking for someone to look up to. Like I was. I was eight years old sitting in a freezing cold house in Low Town with Gilda watching on a blurry old TV because all of the good TVs were for sale, not for us, and I watched this woman go all the way to the top, beating everyone who stood against her, Beacon students, Shade students, and in the end, she beat the great hope of Mistral and took the crown for Atlas. I watched a hero dominate the battlefield; she was smart, she was quick, she could adjust to changing conditions, she was a crack shot, and she could go close quarters against a close combat specialist and win. She had everything; she… she was Atlas, great and glorious.

“When I finally got to meet her in person, Robyn Hill, Colonel Hill, Vytal Champion Hill, I was … I was so honoured. So awed. Twilight, you remember when she came to Canterlot? I couldn’t string two words together.”

Twilight smiled and made an imitation of Rainbow’s wordless gushing sound, an incoherent string of vowels lacking any consonants to give coherence to them. Her smile faded a little bit. “But Penny’s not Robyn.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed. “No, she isn’t, but … I don’t want someone to look up to Penny and imagine that she represents the best of Atlas and then find out later that, no, Penny didn’t want anything to do with Atlas. The folks back home deserve better than that.”

“They deserve…” Blake began, but then trailed off.

“Don’t,” Rainbow urged. “Please don’t say it; I’m not … I guess that I can’t really say that I’m not doing it for myself, especially since that wouldn’t be entirely true, but … I’m not saying that I’m the hero that Atlas deserves, but at least I’m going to stick around for a few more years.”

“You didn’t say any of this to Penny,” Twilight pointed out.

“I didn’t want her to think I was getting at her for leaving,” Rainbow said. “I don’t want to make her feel guilty; I just want to take her spot in the tournament.”

“Midnight would have something to say about that,” Twilight murmured.

“Yeah, I know she would; your computer’s getting a real smart mouth,” Rainbow muttered. “I’m not saying that you need to wipe her short term memory, because that would be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that you told me that computers that don’t have regular memory wipes are at risk of developing personality quirks.”

“Yes, that is true,” Twilight admitted. “Although at least Midnight hasn’t started to swear yet.”

“What?” asked Blake.

“Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out,” Rainbow said. “But, back on the subject of heroes, have you thought about being put forward for the one-on-one rounds yourself?”

“No,” Blake said. “Because representing my school and my kingdom is a privilege, not a right, and I lost that privilege when I decided to walk away to Atlas.”

Rainbow blinked. “Okay, you’ve got me with that one.”

“I can’t be a hero to Atlas — not in the tournament, anyway — while I’m wearing a Beacon uniform,” Blake said, “and Beacon, Vale, deserves a hero who is going to stick around for a couple of years. That means that either Yang or Nora will go forward to the one on one round for Team Iron, for Beacon and for Vale, and honestly, they deserve it. It’ll probably be Yang, but either one of them will be great, and I’ll be glad to cheer for them from the sidelines. I don’t need to steal their spotlight.”

Rainbow held up her hands. “I get it, I promise; it was a stupid idea, and I shouldn’t have brought it up. You’re right. It’s kind of a pity, but you’re right.”

“There’s always two years’ time,” Blake said.

“With only eight teams getting selected for each tournament, it’s rare for any team to get two bites of the apple,” Rainbow cautioned.

“But I won’t have had my bite as part of Atlas,” Blake reminded her.

“That,” Rainbow said, “is a very good—”

“Rainbow, Blake!” Twilight cried. “Look, that’s them!”

All their eyes turned outwards, over Vale and out to watch the Crystal Heart swoop through the skies, cutting between the cruisers and the carriers, circling with nimble grace around the Amity Colosseum as she turned to head towards Vale.

The Crystal Heart was a sleek and elegant design, curving back from the sharp prow in beautiful curving lines so that there was barely an angle to be seen on the vessel. It was dwarfed by any of the warships in the skies, but at the same time, it was more than three times longer than a Skyray and able to travel long-distance without needing to stop for fuel or to pick up supplies for the passengers. It was luxurious too, more than most skyliners that Rainbow had travelled on, certainly more than any cruiser that Cadance might have travelled aboard. The yacht was painted a dazzling crystal blue so bright, it seemed to sparkle in the sunlight as it made its approach; eight fin-like wings upon the sides beat up and down as the Crystal Heart came in, so that she almost looked like an eel swimming through the sky.

As she flew in, Rainbow could see Pinkie’s face pressed up against the glass of one of the windows.

Despite the Crystal Heart’s size, there was still plenty of room to accommodate her on the docking pad as she banked sharply to the left, presenting her flank to the trio — and Spike — as she dropped down out of the sky and came to a stop atop the black tarmac surface.

The engines stopped, although they were so quiet to begin with that Rainbow barely noticed the difference. The wings ceased to beat.

There was a moment of stillness, where nothing happened; then, the door in the side of the ship, which had been invisible until now, slid backwards, into the rest of the airship’s hull.

Rainbow braced herself.

“What are you doing?” Blake asked.

Rainbow didn’t reply, since it would be obvious in just a second.

A set of steps began to descend down from airship to the docking pad, but before that—

“EVERYONE!”

Pinkie leapt out of the airship, eyes taking up more of her face than usual, arms outstretched as she flung herself through the air, bearing down on Twilight.

Rainbow shoved Twilight out of the way — gently, obviously, not like knocking her down or anything — and held out her own arms in turn, catching Pinkie as she fell.

And that, Blake, is why I braced, Rainbow thought, as she managed to withstand Pinkie’s impact without getting knocked flat on her backside on the docking pad; although she was pushed back a foot by the collision, her feet scraping across the tarmac, she kept her feet and was able to turn in place, spinning Pinkie around like a toy airship for a couple of seconds before setting her down on the docking pad.

“Hey, Pinkie,” Rainbow said. “You know, it hasn’t been that long since you saw us last.”

“I know,” Pinkie acknowledged. “But I always miss you girls. Anything exciting happen around here since you got back?”

“Nothing as exciting as you getting here,” Twilight said smoothly.

“Aww!” Pinkie cooed, reaching out to pull Twilight into a wrenching hug, which caused Spike to let out a yelp of protest.

“Oops, sorry Spike,” Pinkie apologised as she drew back.

“Pinkie Pie! There was absolutely no need to rush,” Rarity scolded mildly as she descended the steps, arms held out elegantly on either side of her. The sunlight glinted off the gold bracelets on her wrists, and a blue handbag hung from her elbow. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of very large sunglasses. “Twilight, darling.” She held out her arms, but rather than hugging Twilight, she took Twilight’s face in her hands and kissed her once on each cheek. She proceeded to do the same to Rainbow Dash — her lips were moist and felt soft — and Blake.

“Did I hear you right?” Rarity asked. “Nothing of import, nothing to report since we parted last?”

“Actually, yeah, there are a couple of things,” Rainbow said.

“Hold on, y’all,” Applejack declared as she and Fluttershy made their way down out of the Crystal Heart to join the others. “Wait for us, and you won’t have to repeat yourselves.”

“And we should maybe wait for the girls too,” Fluttershy said softly. “Hello again, Spike.”

“Hey,” Spike said. “I mean, uh, woof. Woof!”

“What was that about waiting for us?” Apple Bloom asked as she, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo started to run down the steps.

“Don’t run down the steps, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity commanded.

“What were you going to do without waiting for us?” Scootaloo asked. “Is the tournament going to start without us?”

“Ah told y’all, the tournament don’t get started for another few days,” Applejack insisted. “I don’t think they’ve even announced whose takin’ part yet, have they, Rainbow?”

Rainbow shook his head. “The Beacon students are only having their Last Shot today, and then after that, Professor Ozpin is going to make his mind up, and then everybody finds out together tomorrow.”

As Scootaloo reached the docking pad, Rainbow turned to her, bending down a little bit so that she was closer to Scootaloo’s level. “How are you doing, kid?”

“I’m so excited!” Scootaloo cried. “I know that we came to visit you here at Beacon a little while ago, but this is my first time really visiting another kingdom! And for the Vytal Festival too!”

Rainbow grinned. “It’s going to be awesome,” she promised, because Blake had convinced her that it would be, that it wouldn’t be ruined by a few Valish jackasses with chips on their shoulders, that everything … everything would be pretty much okay.

After all, they’d already beaten all the real dangers; what were a few bad tempers compared to that?

“Vale,” Rainbow went on, “isn’t Atlas, but it is a pretty nice place to see, and you have time for some sightseeing before the tournament starts.”

“Anywhere you’d recommend?” asked Cadance, as she walked down the steps, accompanied by Shining Armor and … Maud Pie?

“Maud?” Rainbow asked, before remembering herself and coming to attention, saluting Shining Armor.

“Stand easy, Dash; no need to stand on ceremony here,” Shining Armor assured him, reaching out to ruffle Twilight’s hair with one hand. “How’s it going, Twily?”

“I am glad this year is almost over,” Twilight admitted. “It feels as if it’s been exhausting. I’ll be glad to get back to the lab. But, yeah, Maud, we didn’t know you were coming.”

“It’s not just Rainbow Dash that’s going to be fighting in the tournament,” Maud pointed out, the words coming in that slow, considered manner out of her mouth. “It’s Trixie and Sunburst too. How could I miss it?”

“So what was this exciting news that you forgot to mention the first time?” Pinkie asked.

“Blake,” Rainbow said, putting one arm around Blake’s shoulders and drawing her in a little closer, “has filed for her transfer to Atlas.”

“It’s not that exciting to you guys,” Blake said, “Rainbow shouldn’t have—”

“'Not that exciting'?” Rarity exclaimed. “Darling, that’s tremendous news.”

“Not least because it means we’ll be seeing so much more of you from now on,” Pinkie added.

“Welcome to the club, sugarcube,” Applejack said with an approving nod.

“Does that mean you want to become an Atlas specialist?” asked Scootaloo.

Blake nodded. “Eventually, after I graduate, yes.”

“Wow,” Scootaloo said. “I wouldn’t have expected that from when we last met.”

Blake snorted, a smile playing across her face. “Thanks to Rainbow Dash, I … I’ve changed quite a bit since we last met.”

“We’ve changed each other,” Rainbow said. “And that isn’t Blake’s only piece of news either—”

“They don’t need to hear—”

“Blake’s mom arrived all the way from Menagerie to see her,” Rainbow said.

“Oh my goodness!” Fluttershy gasped. “That sounds like quite a trip.”

“Ain’t no trip too long for a mama to see her little girl again,” Applejack declared. “Ain’t nothin’ like a family, and nothin’ more important.”

“But, if I may, how did your mother know to find you here?” asked Rarity. “I thought you weren’t in contact.”

“We weren’t,” Blake said. “But someone—”

Rainbow chuckled nervously. “Hey, it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?”

“Someone decided to write to my mother without telling me,” Blake said.

“Tsk, Rainbow Dash!” Rarity said, shaking her head, making her hair bounce a little bit. “Really?!”

“Well I knew that Blake was never going to do anything on her own,” Rainbow said. “I had to take steps.”

“Even so, darling, it does sound rather … well, rather in-character for you, I must admit,” Rarity said.

“Uh … thanks?” Rainbow murmured. “Anyway, Blake, tell them that you’re actually happy with what I did.”

“No, because I still haven’t entirely forgiven you,” Blake said. “Yes, I … I’m glad that I had the chance to make things right with Mom, and I’m glad that she’s here, but at the same time … you girls understand, right? I can be okay with the outcome without excusing what Rainbow did to bring it about.”

“Makes sense to me,” Applejack said. “You should have told her, sugarcube; you should have told her what you were gonna do, or you should at least have told her after you’d done it.”

“Like you should have told me that you didn’t like my pies,” Pinkie added.

“Or you should have told me that—” Fluttershy began.

“Okay, okay, I get it, but I only lie to you when I’m trying to help.”

“But it don’t help,” Applejack replied. “Does it?”

“Actually, in this case, I think it did help Blake a lot,” Rainbow said.

Applejack’s green eyes narrowed.

“I’m still going to swap your guns out with the toys if and when they ever come out,” Blake informed her. “I’m going to beat Neon to the punch.”

“Oh, really?” Rainbow asked, folding her arms. “Well, now that you’ve told me, you won’t take me by surprise.”

“Won’t I?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “No, you won’t.”

“Your mother,” Cadance murmured. “That would be the Chieftainess of Menagerie?”

“High Chieftainess,” Blake corrected gently, “but, yes.”

“And she came all the way here, to Vale,” Cadance said. She smiled. “She must love you very much.”

Blake looked away, a flush of colour rising to her cheeks. “Perhaps a little … too much,” she murmured.

“I’m not sure that it’s possible to be loved too much, especially not by your parents,” Cadance said. “As much as I’d hate to get in the way of your mother-daughter time … I’d like to meet her, if I may?”

“Of course!” Blake said, her voice rising. “I’m sure that she’d be honoured to—”

“The honour,” Cadance said, cutting Blake off with a shake of her head, “would be all mine.”

The queue to get into the Beacon amphitheatre was so big that it extended outside the building and spilled into the courtyard beyond. It was somewhat disorganised, less of a true queue than a serpentine mass of people crammed together, like a great beast which, as one got closer, one could see was not a beast at all but a mighty host of little creatures that only appeared to form a single, greater whole. They spilled past the doors and out into the courtyard beyond, students of every year all pressed together, teams sticking together in lines or clumped together.

Professor Port strolled up and down one side of the line, offering encouragement to certain teams or students in between ineffectually exhorting the line as a whole to settle down.

As one of the taller students, Pyrrha was able to look over the heads of many of her fellows — especially when she rose up onto her tiptoes — and see that the doors were forming something a chokepoint; beyond that, she guessed that the corridors into the locker rooms were slowing down the movement of students into the building.

“We should have got down here sooner,” Sunset muttered.

“We’ll be fine,” Pyrrha assured her. “They aren’t going to begin until all of the students are ready.”

And it did seem as though all the students, or nearly all, wished to take part in this, the Last Shot before Professor Ozpin made his choices for the Vytal Tournament. Looking around, Pyrrha could see Yang’s bright yellow hair, she could see Cardin looming above the press — although Weiss was hidden amongst the crowd, too small to be picked out — she could not see anyone from Team BLBL, but they were the only team that Pyrrha knew were not and would not be here. They had no interest in the tournament, it not being possible for them to compete with only three members, and so they were keeping Amber company in Team SAPR’s absence.

With Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch needed to supervise Last Shot, Ruby’s uncle Qrow Branwen was handling Amber’s protection. Pyrrha hoped that he didn’t bring down the mood by his presence overmuch, although as an older man, he would probably be at least somewhat inhibiting.

Unless, of course, he chooses to keep a discrete distance.

“How much longer, do you think?” Ruby asked, unable to see anything over anyone’s head and, thus, completely at the mercy of reports from Pyrrha and Jaune.

“We’re moving,” Jaune said as the whole heaving mass shuffled forwards slightly.

“Slowly,” Ruby grumbled. “Sunset, can you teleport us into the locker rooms?”

“I’m not sure that would go down particularly well,” Pyrrha murmured.

In the meantime, the delays as the queue moved slowly forwards did provide ample opportunity to look up at the Amity Colosseum as it drifted over the cliffs and over the grounds of Beacon itself, as if the arena itself were coming to look down upon all these students who wished so much to compete upon the shifting surface of the arena; as if it was the Colosseum itself, and not Professor Ozpin, who would be choosing which of the eight teams would receive the coveted honour and compete to win the laurel crown of victory.

Jaune looked up at it as well. “I know that you mentioned that it was a flying arena before,” he muttered. “But even so … whoa.”

“First time seeing it?” Sunset asked.

Jaune nodded, without taking his eyes off the floating arena.

“Me too,” Sunset said.

“Really?” Jaune asked, jerking his head in Sunset’s direction, if only for a moment. “I thought you would have … I’m surprised.”

“First time seeing it with your own eyes, I could believe,” Pyrrha said, “but you didn’t watch the last tournament on television?”

“Why would I want to watch other people having more fun than me?” Sunset asked. “Why would I want to watch other people basking in the love of the crowd while I was … languishing in … while I was not basking in love and honour, let’s put it like that.”

Now it was Sunset’s turn to turn her eyes upwards towards the Amity Colosseum. “It’s an impressive sight, isn’t it?”

“I can’t see it very well from down here,” Ruby grumbled, “but I remember it was really cool inside.”

“It has been some time,” Pyrrha murmured. “But from my memories, I appreciate the effort to approach an authentic arena experience … although it does look a little odd in metal, rather than in stone; it makes it look … very modern.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sunset pointed out.

“Not a bad thing, exactly,” Pyrrha replied. “Rather … the Amity Colosseum has many years of history behind it by now; it has many stories to tell, it has borne witness to many things … and yet it does not seem so, if that makes sense.

“When I wait in the tunnel of the Colosseum in Mistral, I can see where those gladiators who came before me, stretching back into ancient times, have carved their names into the stone. I can reach out and feel where their fingers have weathered the building blocks. Just outside the arena itself, there is a statue of Eulalia, loud of the war cry, whose foot, by tradition, ought be touched for luck by gladiators about to fight that day; her foot has been touched so often by so many that it has been worn down and looks deformed and misshapen. It is clearly the place of history that it is in fact; Amity Arena, for all its wonders, seems to have been finished only yesterday.” Pyrrha paused a moment. “It matters little in the grand scheme of things, I know, but…”

“It still looks really cool, though,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it does.”

“I didn’t think it would be so big,” Jaune went on. “Is it as big as it looks?”

“It’s huge when you get inside,” Ruby said. “The crowd all just kind of blurs together, you can’t make out more than the people nearest to you, it’s like … it’s like being in a city.”

“A city with all eyes upon us and our deeds,” Sunset said softly.

“No pressure, then,” Jaune muttered. He looked at Pyrrha. “Any tips?”

Pyrrha smiled at him as she placed a hand upon his shoulder. “You won’t notice,” she told him. “That may not sound plausible, it may sound as though I’m just saying something to make you feel better, but I’m not. Yes, you are aware when you go in, you see the crowd, and more importantly, you hear the crowd thundering in your ears—”

“That doesn’t sound like not noticing,” Jaune pointed out.

“—but once the battle starts,” Pyrrha went on, “once swords are drawn, once combat is joined, then there is nothing but your opponent, nothing but the struggle. Everything else … falls away: the crowd, the arena, the rest of the world itself beyond the battlefield. If it doesn’t … you aren’t taking the battle seriously.”

“There must have been times you didn’t take the fighting seriously,” Sunset pointed out. “There must have been times you knew you could win with one eye closed.”

“I always gave my opponents the honour of my full concentration,” Pyrrha said, which was not entirely an answer to Sunset’s question, although she did give more of an answer when she followed up with, “Not least because so many of my opponents would have punished me severely had I done anything less.”

Sunset didn’t say anything, but the look on her face, the faintest hint of a smirk, told Pyrrha that she had caught what Pyrrha had said — and what she had not said.

The queue had shuffled forward to the point that they could actually get into the amphitheatre, joining the flow of students moving through the outer corridors, past the doors leading directly into the main chamber, into the locker rooms. All of them were already dressed for battle, with no need to actually change clothes, but they all needed to get their weapons out of their lockers.

Sunset also had to gird her armour on, strapping her vambraces around her wrist and fastening her cuirass across her chest. She discreetly — but not so discreetly that Pyrrha didn’t notice — brushed her fingertips against the welded patch where Adam had run through her cuirass, as though she were touching the foot of Eulalia for luck.

All armed, and all armoured where armour was applicable, they proceeded out of the locker rooms and into the main amphitheatre. The lights were down, as though this was a movie theatre and they had arrived after the trailers had already started running, and the four of them had to fumble their way through the crowd somewhat looking for seats.

“I hope we don’t get drawn against Team Iron,” Ruby murmured.

“We could take them,” Sunset said. “We had them on the ropes before Amber freaked out.”

“I heard that,” Yang said cheerily. “Hey, Ruby, come over here.”

Ruby led the way as they scurried across the room to take the seats next to Team YRBN.

“You absolutely did not have us on the ropes,” Yang declared. “I was about to dump Jaune out of the arena—”

“Pyrrha would have stopped you before you could,” Sunset said. “Or I would, or Ruby would.”

“Only if you could have gotten past Nora and Blake,” Yang replied, her voice starting to rise a little. “If we go again, you’ll see that Pyrrha can’t be everywhere.”

“You can’t be everywhere either,” Sunset said. “Especially when you’re tied up with Jaune.”

“Quiet please, everyone,” Professor Goodwitch said, her voice carrying across the auditorium despite her lack of a microphone. She stood in the centre of the stage, the spotlight upon her, the only person or thing illuminated in the auditorium. “Professor Ozpin will say a few words before we begin.”

Professor Goodwitch stepped aside, and Professor Ozpin walked into the spotlight, coming to a stop more or less where Professor Goodwitch had been standing just a moment ago.

He leaned upon his cane and looked around the room in silence; his eyes seemed to be able to pierce the darkness, to see the huntsmen and huntresses sitting in the dark.

To see Pyrrha sitting there amongst her teammates.

Pyrrha could not help but wonder if he would not rather be somewhere else, with Amber perhaps, doing something other than watching students compete for a place in what might seem to him to be a rather irrelevant celebration. He had done a good job of concealing the fact that he found this whole business to be trivial and banal when Pyrrha and Arslan interviewed him, but she was certain that he could not take it as seriously as the rest of Remnant took it.

Professor Ozpin stood in silence for a few moments, moments which seemed to stretch out some little time, before he spoke. “It gladdens my heart to see so many eager young faces here today, keen to represent their school and kingdom. For those of you who don’t know, and must have wandered in here on the basis that everyone was headed this way—”

A soft chuckle ran around the auditorium.

Professor Ozpin smiled ever so slightly as he went on, “—the Vytal Festival that has been crawling towards us since the year began will be upon us very soon now, and even sooner, I must select those teams which will carry the honour of Beacon and of Vale into battle in this, the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament. The purpose of this tournament is not only to celebrate the continued blessings of peace that have prevailed in Remnant since the end of the Great War, but also to remind each and every one of you to always strive to better yourself, to reach for new heights, to never settle for mediocrity or even for second place.

“To that end, I will select just eight teams to compete against eight teams from each of your three fellow academies of Atlas, Haven, and Shade. I will select those teams which, in my judgement, best embody the Vytal ethos of constant striving for improvement, which best embody the values of this academy, who have demonstrated a constant commitment to their studies here, and, yes, those which display a superlative skill in combat. It is a little late, to say the least, for you to do much about my first three criteria, but today is a final opportunity, a ‘last shot’ if you will, to demonstrate the last.

“Please take note that this is not a tournament. Victory does not guarantee you a place in the chosen eight teams, nor does defeat doom all your hopes. All you can do today, all you need do today, is show me what you’re capable of.”

Professor Ozpin glanced outside of the spotlight. “Professor Goodwitch, when you are ready, please call the first match.”

With that, Professor Ozpin stepped back out of the spotlight and presumably — it was hard to make out in the darkness — made his way off the stage to find some spot from which he could observe the contests. The stage itself became fully lit up, so that the combatants in the battles about to begin could at least see one another, and revealed that Professor Ozpin was indeed doing just that, although as soon as he left the battlefield, he was lost to Pyrrha’s sight once more.

The lights also illuminated Professor Goodwitch, whose head was down a little to check the tablet — larger than a scroll — cradled in one arm. “The first match of the day will be—” — she pushed a button, and the images of the four members of Team WWSR appeared on the right hand side of the screen opposite four students that Pyrrha didn’t recognise — “Team Wisteria versus Team Onyx.”

“Go Flash!” Sunset yelled, pumping one fist as she half rose out of her seat.

People turned to look at her. Sunset didn’t look nearly as abashed about that as Pyrrha would have felt, as Pyrrha did feel just by being nearby.

“What?” Sunset said. “Are we not supposed to say anything?”

“There is no prohibition against cheering, Miss Shimmer; it’s just customary to wait until the two teams are actually in the ring,” Professor Ozpin said, mirth in the voice that emerged, unseen, from out of the darkness.

Team ONYX swaggered up onto the stage, looking for all the world as though they had already won the battle.

Pyrrha frowned at that, it was a kind of attitude she had seen more than once — though it hadn’t been directed against her in quite some time — and she never liked it when she saw it; no matter who your opponent was, you should do them the honour of taking them seriously.
Pyrrha herself tried never to take her victories for granted, and no matter how many times she fought Arslan, she never allowed herself to forget that this might be the day that her record of victories came to an end and Arslan paid her back for all her prior triumphs. That was the courteous thing to do, but it was also the pragmatic thing: there were few things a crowd liked better than to see a swaggering braggart taken down a peg or two by an underdog.

That was one of the reasons why Phoebe was not a favourite of the crowd.

In any case, Team WWSR took to the stage to face off against their older opponents. Aside from Sunset’s shout, nobody cheered for them; in fact, as they made their way up onto the stage — Pyrrha could see Weiss better than most others, dressed in white as she was she shone like a star, even in this darkness — it seemed as though the four members of the team were afflicted by a chill wind that blew around them, piercing their aura and biting them to the bone.

Weiss kept her chin up, but she moved with a sort of brittle grace, as though she might shatter if put under the wrong sort of pressure.

How many people think Weiss to be her father? How many of them cannot see her for who she is?

The embattled team mounted the stage and gathered together, where Weiss whispered something to them, her arm sweeping out across the battlefield in broad gestures.

Team ONYX, on the other hand, seemed to find strategy beneath them; they waited with a patience no better disguised than their contempt.

Perhaps it was Pyrrha’s hopeful imagination, but she half-thought she saw Professor Goodwitch glower at them slightly as she cleared the way for the ensuing battle.

“Begin!” she cried.

Team WWSR split into two pairs, Cardin and Russel on one hand, Weiss and Flash on the other, each taking one flank of the stage. At first blush, Pyrrha thought they meant to try and catch Team ONYX in a pincer, but as ONYX in turn split up by pairs, Pyrrha recognised that that had been the aim of Weiss’ plan: to split their opposition and force them to fight two on two.

It was a decision that was not altogether to the advantage of Cardin and Russel. The two of them did better than some might say they had a right to, their coordination and teamwork making up for the fact that, individually, they were neither of them the strongest fighters, but although they did better than, on their individual merits, they ought to have done, although they managed to whittle down the aura of the two students opposing them, eventually, they were both taken into the red, and eliminated.

But by that time, Weiss and Flash had demolished their opponents.

Cardin and Russel had worked together to be better than they were individually; the same was true of Weiss and Flash, but to a much greater extent. Weiss was as nimble as a fly on the wing, as a dragonfly dancing through the air, gliding and leaping on her glyphs of solemn black and gleaming silver-white, while Flash was like a rock, or a safe harbour from the storm, whom Weiss could retreat behind when she was hard-pressed by their opponents. Weiss would emerge from out behind Flash, zipping across the stage, striking with dust, holding one enemy in place with a glyph, cutting the two of them off from one another so that she could fence with one without fear of the other. And then she would retreat, taking cover behind Flash’s shield and his semblance while he lashed out with his long spear, holding their enemies at bay.

And in this way, they knocked out two of their opponents, and then turned on those who had just eliminated Cardin and Russel.

By this point, whatever the wrongs of the Schnee Dust Company, it wasn’t only Sunset cheering WWSR on as they eliminated another of their opponents. There was only a single member of Team ONYX left, Orlando Adrian by name, and he was sweating profusely as he backed away from the opponents who now outnumbered him just as surely as they had shown that they outclassed him.

Flash took a step backward. Weiss took a step forward. She raised her rapier in a gesture like a salute, as a glyph like the gears of a ghostly clock began to form beneath her feet.

Orlando charged at her, his axe drawn back to strike, but already, his movements seemed slow, sluggish, trapped in treacle.

Then Weiss charged. She was a white blur, dancing from glyph to glyph which appeared in the air all around Orlando, trapping him in a maze of white as Weiss leapt from one to rebound off the other, and with each pass, she dealt her opponent another blow.

When the buzzer rang to signal that Orlando’s aura was in the red, it looked as though Weiss could have kept going for twice as long.

“Team Wisteria stands victorious,” Professor Goodwitch said, and although she tried to keep her voice dispassionate, Pyrrha thought that she could detect a note of pride there. “Congratulations.”

Orlando got heavily to his feet. “This isn’t fair,” he grunted.

“And what, precisely, do you find objectionable, Mister Adrian?” Professor Goodwitch demanded, sounding rather more prickly than sympathetic.

“Atlas already has eight slots,” Orlando growled. “Why do they need to steal one of ours?”

Pyrrha gasped, scarcely able to believe that he had said such a thing; she thought that she heard others gasp as well. That was … completely contrary not only to the spirit of the Vytal Festival but also to the founding principles of the Academies themselves.

It was, with no offence intended to Rainbow Dash — or, indeed, to General Ironwood — the sort of attitude she would have expected to hear from an Atlas student rather than a huntsman of Beacon.

Professor Goodwitch was deathly silent as she pushed her spectacles back up her nose. “Miss Schnee and Mister Sentry are students at Beacon Academy, Mister Adrian; now, if you will please vacate—”

“They think that they can just take whatever they want like they—”

“Mister Adrian!” Professor Goodwitch snapped. “Another word from you, and you’ll be spending the Vytal Festival picking up litter around the fairgrounds. Clear the stage so that the next match can begin.”

And so it went. Teams were called up two by two, and in their pairs, those teams of four made their way onto the stage and fought until one was the winner and the other was not. Team YRBN won a hard-fought bout against second year Team CFVY, a battle so hard fought that, by the end of the combat, Ren and even Nora had both been eliminated, and the auras of Yang and Blake were only a feathers’ breadth away from entering the red.

Nevertheless, Team YRBN were the winners, and as she stood with her aura almost drained, Yang had an enormous smile upon her face, the biggest smile that Pyrrha had ever seen on a face that was never slow to smile.

Such was the power of the arena, a magic beyond the reach even of a Maiden.

And so it went, match after match, until the images of Team SAPR appeared on the right hand side of the screen.

“The next match,” Professor Goodwitch announced. “Is Team Sapphire versus Team Grey. Please make your way onto the stage.”

Pyrrha got up, studying the names of their opponents of Team GRAY as they were written beside their headshots: Gregory Douglas, with a beefy, bullet-shaped head; Rue Farran, with iron grey hair combed to fall entirely down the left hand side of her face; Aspidistra Glaucus, whose blue-grey eyes were large and stormy; Yarrow Lloyd, a deer faunus who had shaved his head down to stubble around his antlers.

She could see Sunset studying them as well, though less their pictures and more their opponents themselves as they got up onto the stage: Gregory was huge and carried an enormous zweihander with what looked like fire dust infused via the pommel much like Jaune’s blade; Rue carried a trident in one hand and a net in the other; Aspidistra looked to be armed with a fasces, the bundle of rods with an axe shoved into it that had once — the practice had fallen into disuse as magistrates lost the power of life and death over their fellow citizens — been carried in Mistral by attendants upon the Emperor and their legates; Yarrow had a staff, or at least it looked like a simple staff at the moment.

Sunset bent down to whisper in Ruby’s ear as they climbed up onto the stage. “Ruby, what do you think of that fasces?”

“The what?”

“The rods and the axe.”

“Oh. I think it’s a rotary cannon until it’s an axe. And I bet that net is infused with lightning dust.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, we’re going to do a Lancaster straight serve to take out that cannon before she can fire, then Pyrrha, you’re going to go for the big guy; Jaune, go for Rue but then castle Queen and Rook at Jaune’s discretion; I’ll cover you and then help Ruby deal with the last guy if she needs it. Understood?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. It rather amazed her how Sunset had come up with that so quickly, and it all made sense too.

“Good luck, Team Sapphire!” called out the recognisable but, at the same time, surprising voice of Penny from out of the darkness.

Pyrrha wondered briefly how she had gotten in here, but then realised that the real question was whether anyone who noticed her coming in would have cared enough to stop her. After all, unlike the Mistralian qualifiers, winning or losing in these matches did not explicitly yield or cost a tournament slot. Nothing was being revealed here that demanded secrecy.

And it was nice to have another friend down in the pits.

“If both teams are ready,” Professor Goodwitch said as the two teams squared off against one another. Team GRAY did not, at least, look as though they were taking the threat of Team SAPR with anything less than complete seriousness; whether that was because the reputation of SAPR went before them or they were simply more sensible than ONYX had been, she could not say. The audience were completely silent, and Pyrrha could sense the anticipation rolling off of them like fog. “Begin!”

The fasces was a rotary cannon. No sooner had Professor Goodwitch given the word than Aspidistra lowered it to take aim as the axe began to retract and the rods began to reveal themselves as rotary barrels.

But even as that was going on, Ruby had leapt onto Jaune’s shield, angling her body straight towards Aspidistra Glaucus.

When Aspidistra’s barrels were still arranging themselves, Jaune’s semblance had spread around his shield and up Ruby’s legs.

When Aspidistra’s cannon was assembled and ready to fire, Ruby had already launched herself across the ring in a shower of rose petals. Her own weapon formed in her hands, Crescent Rose expanding, almost erupting, finishing its extension as it slammed, barrel first, into Aspidistra’s chest.

Ruby fired, Crescent Rose booming forth as the combined force of shot and impact combined to throw Aspidistra clean off the edge of the ring and into the auditorium, even as Ruby was blasted backwards by the counterforce. The klaxon blared as a red X defaced Aspidistra’s portrait, and even as the other members of Team GRAY were turning on Ruby, she had swung her scythe to cut Yarrow’s legs out from under him and knock him off his feet.

Pyrrha and Jaune were both in motion by now, and as she ran, Pyrrha converted Miló into rifle mode and fired a shot at the back of Gregory’s head in case he forgot that Ruby wasn’t his only opponent. Sunset fired too, a fire dust round exploding against his shoulder, but it was to Pyrrha that Gregory turned as she charged towards him, Miló forming a sword in her hands as she adjusted her hold upon it appropriately.

Sunset fired again, Sol Invictus cracking behind Pyrrha, and this time, she must have fired an ice-dust round, because the big huntsman’s leg was enveloped in ice, sticking him to the stage.

Pyrrha charged straight at him. He swung his enormous sword down at her, but Pyrrha skidded, sliding along the floor of the stage so swiftly that his blow and all the fire that exploded where it landed struck the point at which she had been a few crucial seconds too late as she skidded between his legs. She slashed with her sword at his unfrozen leg as she went, before driving the point of Miló into the stage floor to slow her movement to a halt.

Gregory freed his leg and began to turn towards her, but he was slow, so slow, and he turned only swiftly enough to see Pyrrha leaping through the air, Miló forming a spear in her hands as she flew like a swift arrow straight towards him. She drove Miló forward to strike him square on the chest, making his breastplate ring as he staggered backwards, then she hit him in the face with her shield and kicked him first with her left foot and then her right as she knocked him flat onto his back before she landed just beyond him, rolling to her feet as she heard Jaune’s voice.

“Pyrrha, switch with me!”

Pyrrha’s head snapped up. Jaune was in retreat, although his aura was still in the green. Rue was swiping with her net back and forth, trying to tangle up his legs with it even as she jabbed with her trident, and Jaune was not nimble enough to readily evade.

But Pyrrha was.

She charged, and even as she charged, Jaune broke off from his opponent and ran the other way towards Gregory as the big man tried to regain his feet. Rue’s eyes widened as she saw Pyrrha coming straight for her at full tilt, Akoúo̱ held in front and Miló drawn back to strike. She swept her net in front of her, aiming to tangle Pyrrha’s legs and impede her movement, but with a touch of her semblance to keep the metal net low to the ground, Pyrrha was able to jump clear over it and through Rue’s guard.

One blow with Miló to stagger her backwards.

One blow with Akoúo̱ to force the net out of her hand.

Pyrrha pirouetted, slashing with Miló. Her hair spun around her as she swept Rue’s legs out from under her and kicked her up into the air. She leapt up after her, adding a final blow to drive her straight back down into the ground again with enough force to drive her into the red with the blaring of the klaxon.

The klaxon blared again as another red X obscured the face of Yarrow Lloyd.

Pyrrha saw Jaune bring his sword down onto that of Gregory Douglas, who had not gotten up but had his sword in one hand and was trying to parry with it. Lightning erupted from the dust vial in the pommel of Crocea Mors to ripple up Jaune’s blade, down Gregory’s blade and up and down his entire armoured form. Sunset fired, and she must have used a lightning dust round too, because the amount of lightning snapping up and down that immense body increased before Pyrrha’s eyes even as aura ground down and down until it was in the red.

The klaxon sounded for the fourth and final time. “Team Sapphire stands victorious,” Professor Goodwitch announced dispassionately.

“Yes!” Sunset said, without much grace in victory. “Is that a new record?”

Pyrrha gave her a slightly reproachful look, but as she walked across the stage towards where Jaune stood and Gregory Douglas still lay on his hands and knees, she struggled to think of what to say that was more gracious. 'Well fought'? That might seem rather patronising, and Pyrrha had had it taken that way even by opponents who had fought far better than Team GRAY — the first time she had ever encountered Arslan in the arena, the latter had responded to Pyrrha telling her ‘well fought’ with a stream of invective that Pyrrha had been shocked a girl their age knew, ending with an instruction to ‘shove it, because you’ll see me again real soon’; Pyrrha was glad that they understood one another better now, after more such meetings — and yet she felt as though she ought to say something rather than let Sunset’s mild crowing be the last word from them.

As she approached, Gregory got to his feet, casting a shadow over both her and Jaune.

“Do I get a badge?” he asked.

Pyrrha blinked. “I … excuse me?”

“A badge,” Gregory repeated. “For joining the ‘Lost to Pyrrha Nikos’ club?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You lost to Team Sapphire,” she reminded him, “not to me.”

“I suppose so,” Gregory muttered. “It happens sometimes. You did pretty well, all of you.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, looking away from him and across the rest of the team. “Yes, I rather think we did.”

The Amity Arena resembled, to Amber's eyes, a pudding bowl, a large tin pudding bowl floating across the sky like a balloon, coming to rest over Beacon as though a child had suddenly grabbed hold of its string.

Put like that, it seemed a little ridiculous — or else it would make her sound ridiculous, which was why she didn't say — but in spite of that, she couldn't take her eyes off it.

She was sitting under the shade of one of the trees that dotted the Beacon lawn, with Dove sitting next to her, his shoulder resting against hers, and Lyra and Bon Bon with them. Qrow, Ozpin's enforcer with the bad breath, was supposedly watching them, but Amber couldn't see him. Perhaps he wasn't watching at all, but more likely, he was being very discrete, and Amber wasn't wise enough to mark his hiding place. Lyra had her harp with her, and the sweet sound of the plucked strings had, if not filled the air, then at least filled Amber's ears with airs that gave delight and hurt not. But as a shadow had grown over them, as it had engulfed the trees, swallowed the grass on which they sat, as it had blotted out the sun and plunged them all halfway into darkness, it had become impossible to avoid the thing that was filling the sky above them, impossible to turn her eyes away from it.

And now that she had looked, neither she nor Dove could take their eyes off it.

"'Brave new world,'" Amber murmured, because as much as it might look like a gigantic bowl for mixing batter and cakes, a place for beating eggs into the flour and the milk, a place to whip meringue until you could turn the bowl upside down and wait to see if said meringue would fall upon your head or not, despite the ridiculousness of its appearance, there was, at the same time, something awe-inspiring about it too.

Someone had built this. Someone had built this. Someone had fashioned such an enormous structure out of metal and then they had made it fly amongst the clouds it dwarfed with its sheer size. It looked so big that Amber almost dreamed that you could fit the world within that flying place and float it out of danger, free from the perils of the grimm upon the ground forevermore. It was so large, a giant could scoop ground up in their hand and still not fill the arena up.

"When you said that it was a flying arena," Dove murmured, "I wasn't expecting … this."

Lyra giggled. "You two are such a pair of country mice, aren't you?" She plucked at the strings of her harp.

"As opposed to you, who are so terribly worldly and sophisticated?" Bon Bon asked archly.

"I know what the Amity Colosseum looks like," Lyra replied plaintively.

"How many people can fit up there?" asked Amber.

"Thousands," Lyra said. "It's got the biggest capacity of any stadium or the like anywhere in Remnant. I think."

"You think?" Bon Bon asked. "I would have thought that someone as experienced, as learned, as urbane and cultivated a city mouse as you would know for sure."

"Shut up," Lyra muttered. "I never said I knew everything."

Thousands of people. It was … it was incredible to think of, standing up there amongst the clouds, in front of thousands of people, all of them looking down at Pyrrha or Sunset or Penny or the others. It was incredible, and a little bit terrifying, not so much because of the crowds themselves — there had been a time when Amber had dreamed of singing in front of huge crowds, egged on by Ozpin, who told her that she had the talent for it — but because of what they would be doing up there to entertain the crowds: fighting.

Arslan said that it was perfectly safe, that it was all performance, but if Pyrrha's mother had been injured performing like that, then … then maybe someone could be worse than injured.

They would all be up there, all of them fighting. But fighting for sport, fighting for fun...

The memory of the sparring match, the fight she had had to run from, had to escape, rose unbidden to the forefront of Amber's mind. Yang on fire, Yang with her eyes ablaze, Yang with that cruel smirk upon her face, Yang about to kill Jaune—

Amber shook her head. No, no, that wasn't right, that wasn't Yang, that was Cinder.

But it was terrifying all the same.

"Amber?" Dove asked, with the same gentleness in his voice as in his grip as he took her by the hand. "Amber, what's wrong?"

He was looking at her now. At her, and not at the arena up above them.

"Nothing," Amber said quickly, tearing her own eyes away from the enormous structure above them, the arena at which she no longer wished to look. "I-I'm fine." She smiled at him. "I'm fine."

Lyra plucked at the strings of her harp. "So, Amber," she said, "how does it feel to be without a bodyguard looking over your shoulder for once?"

"Oh, I've still got one," Amber replied.

"Where?" Bon Bon asked, looking around.

"Um … I don't know," Amber admitted. "He's probably here, but … perhaps he's giving us some space."

"A lot of space," Lyra said, craning her neck a little as she looked around. "I can't see anyone who's paying the slightest bit of attention to us."

Amber chuckled softly. "That's not a bad thing, necessarily."

"No, I guess not," Lyra agreed. She grinned. "On that subject, are you and Dove going to come to the Losers' Party or are you going to take advantage of the place being nearly empty and—?"

"Don't be vulgar, Lyra," Bon Bon said.

"What makes you think I was going to be vulgar in any way, shape, or form?" demanded Lyra.

"Why else would they need to take advantage of the place being nearly empty?"

"I think you've got the dirty mind, not me," Lyra said. "Anyway, are you coming to the Losers' Party?"

"What's that?" asked Amber.

"It's a party for Losers."

"I don't think that helps explain very much," Dove said dryly. "Once the teams competing in the Vytal Festival are announced, the teams that made the cut go — or can go — to a celebration in Vale—"

"A boring celebration," Lyra said. "It's all leading civic dignitaries and corporate sponsors; it's a networking event, no fun at all."

"That's what people say who didn't get invited," said Bon Bon.

"The Losers' Party is held here at Beacon for everyone who wasn't fortunate enough to make the list," Dove added.

"Even if you didn't want to make the list?" Amber asked. "You didn't try and compete in this tournament."

"But it's open to all students," Lyra said. "Whether you failed or didn't try, we're all losers."

Amber laughed. "I'm not even a student, but … if you wouldn't mind, it might be fun."

Except that if Team SAPR were selected to the tournament, and Team RSPT too, and Blake, then who would watch her?

Who would watch me in the dorm room if they all go to the celebration in Vale? Qrow again?

If he's as discreet as he's being today, that might not be so bad. It's like he's not even here at all.

That might be true of Qrow Branwen, but it was not true of the girl who Amber now noticed watching her for a moderate distance away across the grass. Watching her, or … was she actually watching Bon Bon? It was a little hard to tell; the other girl was too far away to be sure who she was looking at, but she was definitely looking at one of them. Perhaps she was even looking at both of them.

Amber didn't recognise her; perhaps she had seen the other girl before, but she didn't recognise her, although she was quite recognisable, being as tall as Pyrrha — made even taller by the way her hair stuck straight up like a crest.

"Amber?" Dove asked.

"Who is that?" Amber murmured. "Do you know her?"

Bon Bon looked around, following Amber's gaze towards the tall girl. Her mouth twisted in distaste.

"That … that's a friend," she muttered. "Wait here; I'll take care of it."

From his perch on one of the high branches of a tree, Qrow watched Amber.

He couldn't hear what was being said between her and her friends. He didn't need to; if someone were to show up and start attacking her, then he'd know about it from seeing, without needing to hear about it as well.

And in the meantime, well, it might be okay for Ruby and her friends to hang out with Amber, but that didn't mean that she wanted some guy old enough to be her father cramping her style.

Oz wanted things to be as gentle for Amber as possible, for things to be as comfortable for her as possible. Maybe that was the guilt talking, but — notwithstanding the fact that Qrow had more to be guilty about than Ozpin did; he was the one who had been too late to track Amber down after she ran away — just because it was driven by guilt didn't mean that it wasn't also kind.

The alternative was to lock Amber in a box with air holes until the danger was passed, and that … that sounded in Qrow's head a little too close to Jimmy's way of doing things for Qrow to feel comfortable advocating.

Nah, he was fine where he was, and Amber was fine where she was, underneath his watchful eye.

So Qrow sat in the tree and watched as one of Amber's friends down on the ground below got up and started walking away. Qrow didn't pay much attention to where she was going.

His attention was on Amber. So long as he kept his eyes on her, everything would be fine.

Bon Bon seethed as she stalked across the grass towards where Tempest Shadow waited. How dare she? Did she think that Bon Bon was bluffing? Did she think that Bon Bon wouldn't expose herself to expose Tempest, if it meant protecting Dove and Amber? Did she think that she could come so close, and look like that, on a whim?

It did occur to Bon Bon that Tempest might have the answer that she had demanded from her, the surety that would prove that she could be trusted, that would allow Bon Bon to go to Amber and suggest that she betray Ozpin and the others and hand over the Relic to Tempest. It might be that, but even then, even if that were the case, why do it here? Why now, in such a manner; couldn't she be more discreet about it?

And so, a scowl settled upon Bon Bon's face as she approached Tempest. They were both under the shadow of the Amity Colosseum, and so, Tempest's face was harder to make out than it would have been in other circumstances, but nevertheless, as she got closer, Bon Bon could see that Tempest was scowling herself. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie with a white skull on it, and her hands were thrust into her pockets so that she looked less like a huntress and more like a bored delinquent waiting to be chased out of the mall by security.

"What are you doing here?" Bon Bon demanded.

"I've noticed that Amber is almost always accompanied by an entourage," Tempest said softly, "and for obvious reasons, it would be best not to say anything about my plan where any member of Team Sapphire could hear it. But today, Team Sapphire is at Last Shot, watched by Penny Polendina; Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna are meeting with their civilian friends; and Ciel Soleil is watching Amber through a sniper scope, which means that she can see perfectly, but can't hear anything. There will never be a better time than now."

"Except for the fact that you—"

"Yes, yes, I…" Tempest started, cutting Bon Bon off, then trailed away. The scowl on her face deepened. Her right shifted in her pocket. "I … I want you to know that I take no pleasure in this. I do it only under the greatest duress, because the mission demands it."

She removed her hand from her pocket, revealing that she was holding some kind of little remote control in her pocket, a small black square with two buttons on it, one red and one white.

She held it out towards Bon Bon, then pulled it back again. She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and held it out once more.

Bon Bon reached for it. Tempest pulled it back.

Bon Bon's eyebrows rose.

Tempest growled wordlessly. "Damn you," she muttered and thrust it out at Bon Bon.

Bon Bon took it, quickly, before Tempest could take it back again. "What is it?"

"It's a remote for my artificial arm," Tempest muttered. "Pressing the white button will completely disable it until you press the white button again. Pressing the red button…"

Bon Bon waited a second for her to finish. "Go on."

Tempest let out a seething breath. "Pressing the red button will reverse the flow of nervous signal," she said. "In essence, my own arm will deliver an electric shock to my system. The harder you press the button, the more extreme the shock." She glared at Bon Bon. "You asked for a weapon in case I turned on you and on Amber? Well, there it is!" She held up her prosthetic arm, the arm that she had just used to hand over the controller. "This arm is … I don't know if I can explain to you what this arm means; you wouldn't—"

"It makes you whole," Bon Bon murmured.

Tempest was silent for a second, her eyes widened a little.

"You're not the only one with metal in you," Bon Bon said softly.

Tempest did not reply to that. Instead, she said, "I can hide the metal," she said, "but I couldn't hide missing an arm. I couldn't hide not being able to do things that require two hands. And after so many years … it is a part of me now. I can scarcely remember what it was like not to have an arm that weighed down on my shoulder, to have an arm that it didn't hurt to sleep on, to not have itches that I could never scratch."

"No," Bon Bon agreed. "It … it goes away, doesn't it? At first, it's strange, and awkward, and uncomfortable. Then it's your new normal. Then … it's the only normal that you can recall." Her hand gently, ever so gently, pressed down upon the red button.

Tempest jerked, a wince of pain escaping from her lip as her arm seized up, the only part of her that did not convulse swiftly like an eel pulled out of the river. She glared at Bon Bon. "Was that necessary?"

"I had to see if it worked," Bon Bon replied.

Tempest bared her teeth. "I hate that I must give this to you," she said. "I hate it, and I … but it gives you what you want, doesn't it? If I betray you, then you can disable me, or hurt me. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Bon Bon took a step backwards, weighing the remote in her hand. It was a small thing, but it worked — she had just proven that — and she had asked for something to protect her from Tempest in the case of treachery.

It was very hard to argue that Tempest had not delivered in that regard.

"It isn't just Amber who needs to be safe," she said. "Dove, too."

"Who is Dove?" Tempest asked, with a shrug.

"He's—"

"It was a rhetorical question," Tempest added. "Yes, Dove can be spared, anyone can be spared provided that they don't actively get in the way. Even Team Sapphire; if they are prepared to walk away, then they can walk away. If they are prepared to stand aside, then they will be in no more danger from the grimm than anyone else. Amber can have her boyfriend. Amber can have anyone who's prepared to go along with her; they're not that important. The only person who cannot be spared is Ozpin."

"I don't think Amber would want to spare him anyway," Bon Bon replied.

Tempest snorted. "So … will she go for it?""

"I'm frightened, and I want to live."

"Yes," Bon Bon said. "Yes, I think she'll go for it."

"Then I'll leave you to it," Tempest said. "Let me know when she agrees, and then wait for my instructions."

"When—"

"I've just given you the power to make me disabled; you don't get everything all at once," Tempest snarled. She took a deep breath, and visibly got a grip on herself. "When you need to know," she said, "then you will know." She turned around and walked away.

Her arm swung lightly at her side.

Bon Bon pressed the white button.

Tempest's arm seized up. Tempest half-turned around, eyes blazing.

Bon Bon hastily pressed the button again. Tempest's prosthetic hand clenched into a fist, and she stared at Bon Bon as though she would like to drive that fist through her chest, before in the end turning away again and continuing to walk off.

So, that button works too.

Bon Bon looked down at it, the surety that she had wanted.

Now, it only remained to convince Amber to take the deal, the deal that would protect her, and Dove, better than Team SAPR or Professor Ozpin or the whole Atlesian fleet could do.

The deal that would protect them both forever.

As she walked back towards Amber and the others, Bon Bon had a spring in her step that hadn't been there since … since they'd lost Sky, at least.

Just watch, Sky; I'm about to make sure we won't lose anyone else.

"On a mountain, to the east of Vale, stands a lonesome pine," Lyra sang, her fingers strumming nimbly over the strings of her harp. "Just beyond, in a cabin there lives a little girl of mine."

"Her name is June and very, very soon, she'll belong to me," Bon Bon sang, a smile playing across her face as she rejoined them, her very tall friend having gone somewhere else. "For I know, she's waiting there for me, 'neath that lone pine tree."

Lyra beamed. "Iiiin the—"

Bon Bon held up one hand. "Another time, Lyra, maybe."

"Come on, Bon Bon," Amber urged. "That was the first time I've ever heard you sing, but you have a wonderful voice."

"Well, thank you," Bon Bon said, "but right now, I need to have a word with you." She looked at Lyra. "A private word."

Lyra frowned. "About what?"

"Just … give us a second, okay?" Bon Bon asked.

"Do you—?" Dove began.

"No," Bon Bon said. "You're fine."

Lyra pouted, but muttered, "Okay, if you say so." She got up and started to head back in the rough direction of the dorm rooms.

Amber frowned. "Bon Bon," she murmured, "what couldn't you say in front of Lyra?"

Bon Bon hesitated. The smile had faded from her face as she sat down in front of the two of them, close to the two of them.

"I…" she paused. "You need to stay calm," she said. "When you hear what I'm about to say next, you need to stay calm."

"That doesn't sound very calming," Amber whispered.

"Bon Bon, what is this?" Dove asked. "Why are you talking like you're about to say—?"

"I know," Bon Bon said abruptly, the words leaping out of her mouth. "Amber, I know the truth, I know that you are the Fall Maiden, I know about the Relic, I know everything. And I'm sorry, so sorry, for what has been done to you."

Amber gasped in shock. Bon Bon … Bon Bon knew? Dove's friend, Dove's team leader, someone he trusted and spoke highly of, and she knew? She knew everything?

"'Relic'?" Dove repeated. "What's a Relic, and how do you know?"

"Because there is a war being fought, and I'm on the other side," Bon Bon said, short and sharp, words hushed for all the force with which they were delivered.

She was quiet, and yet, she spoke like a hurricane. Amber shrank back, pressing herself against the rough back of the tree behind her. She could feel her heart pounding inside her chest; she could feel her stomach turn to ice as she gasped for breath. Bon Bon not only knew, she was … she was … she was an agent of Salem? She was working with Cinder? She was an enemy, and she had waited until Amber was alone, without Sunset or Pyrrha or anyone else to protect her, and now…

Now, she was going to kill her.

Fear rushed through Amber's veins, fear … and anger too, anger like the fire at her command, anger at Bon Bon's lies, for lying to her like Ozpin had lied to her.

That anger made her surge forward, to grab Bon Bon's hands and hold them fast before she could make any move to use them, to hold Bon Bon in place as flames began to flicker at her fingertips.

"Give me one reason," Amber snarled, her voice harder than it had ever been before, "give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Bon Bon blinked rapidly, and it almost seemed as though there were tears in her eyes.

"You probably should," she admitted, "but I didn't tell you this because I wanted to hurt you. I'm telling you this because I want to offer you a way out."

"'A way out'?"

"You needn't be hunted," Bon Bon said quickly. "You needn't be afraid, you don't need to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, you can be free, you and Dove, to do what you like, live as you like. You can be free of all of it."

Amber shook her head. "That's not possible. My power—"

"Doesn't matter," Bon Bon said. "Except because it's needed to get the Relic, but if you give up the Relic, then the Fall Maiden power isn't needed anymore. And Cinder will be dead. They're going to kill her. She won't trouble you ever again. I swear."

"You swear?" Amber said. "Why should I believe you?"

"What other choice do you have?" Bon Bon asked. "To stand with Ozpin? You'll be hunted all your life, you know that. You can kill me, you can kill Cinder, but there are other agents in Beacon still, and there will always be someone else. You'll always have to watch your back. You'll always have to worry about Dove getting hurt."

Amber let out a wordless growl, as Bon Bon yelped at the sudden heat of her wrists.

She let out a ragged breath. "You know it's true," she said. "In this war … we put the people we care about in the path of danger. It's inevitable." She paused. "They can't protect you. Team Sapphire, Team Rosepetal, Ozpin, they can't keep you safe. And if they try…"

If they try, then they'll just die trying, Amber thought. She let go of Bon Bon's hands, leaning back away from her. With one hand, she lightly touched her face, her fingers brushing away the makeup that concealed her scars.

The scars that came from defying Salem. The scars that came from serving Ozpin. The scars that came from being a part of this dark struggle.

The scars that would never leave her.

Just as she would never stop being hunted for her power … unless she gave up the reason why her power was sought for.

The Relic.

Amber closed her eyes. Bon Bon was right. Amber knew she was right. She had the scars to prove that she was right.

"'Oh brave new world, that has such people in it,'" she whispered.

Brave people, kind people, wonderful people.

Dead people, if they tried to stand between her and darkness. She could see it all so clearly in her mind's eye: Pyrrha and Jaune fallen, reaching out for one another, blood staining their matching sashes, the light gone out of their eyes; Sunset screaming as she was torn apart; Ruby devoured; Penny weeping as Cinder cut her throat.

And Cinder, Cinder stalking amongst her nightmares, haunting her imagination, Cinder burning, Cinder with eyes blazing red as blood, Cinder cackling like a madwoman as she cut down all who sought to stand between Amber and danger.

Laughing as she smote Dove upon the crown and made an end of him.

She would kill them all, or someone would, someone sent by Salem would do for them all, and in the end, after all their sacrifice, there would be no one left but Amber.

Or she could give up the Relic, and Cinder would die, and everything would be fine, and everyone would be fine, and nobody would need to suffer at all.

Put like that, it seemed a very simple choice, didn't it?

"Amber?"

Amber opened her eyes. Dove was very close to her face, looking at her intently. He had such lovely blue eyes, such pretty eyes. She had to protect those eyes; she couldn't let the light go out of them.

"Amber," he said again, "what is she talking about?" He looked at Bon Bon. "And who are you?"

"I'm a failure," Bon Bon admitted. "And a fool. But I'm also your friend. I've always been your friend. You don't have to believe it, but it's true. I didn't know about Amber until after she woke up, and I didn't intend … I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want you to suffer. I want you to be happy. That's why this is my gift to you, to both of you. I've done nothing worth doing in my life, but if I can set you free to live and love and be happy … it will be the best thing I've ever done. If you agree to do it."

"There is … the reason that I'm so important," Amber explained, "is that the Fall Maiden is the only one who can unlock a magical door, behind which lies a magical relic, a relic that is sought by … someone. Someone powerful, someone who sent Cinder to kill me and try and take my power. But I know where the Relic is, and I can give it to them, and then … then they won't need my magic anymore."

"And what are they going to do with this Relic?" asked Dove. "What even is it?"

"A crown," Amber said. "A magical crown. I don't know what it does or what they'll do to it. Does it matter?"

"It does … it does if it's being used to hurt people," Dove murmured.

"People will die trying to stop this," Amber said. "The enemy, the one who wants the Relic, who wants me, Salem … she can't be killed. She can't be stopped. She'll just keep sending more people after me, people like Cinder, and everyone who tries to protect me will die: you, Pyrrha, Sunset, everyone. I don't want that to happen. This … if this will give her what she wants, then she won't have any reason to attack Vale anymore. This … this will make everything better, don't you see? It will all stop. Nothing else will stop her, but this will."

She leaned forwards, resting her forehead against his. "I don't want to fight anymore, Dove. I don't … I can't. Not after … I can't. I want to surrender and walk away; I want to live. And I want, no, I need you by my side. There are so many reasons to do this, Dove, and every reason is a life spared. But I need you with me."

"I am with you," he whispered, putting his hands upon her shoulders. "I'm always with you, because I'm yours, as you are mine."

She kissed him, she kissed him full on the lips, leaning into him, her tongue touching his. She broke off, a sigh of relief passing her lips and a grateful smile upon her face. "I love you."

"I'll do whatever it takes, for you," Dove promised. "You're the one that matters."

Amber looked away from him, looked at Bon Bon: Bon Bon who had lied to her, and yet who, at the same time, had offered her hope.

"I'll do it," she said. "I'll give you the Relic, if that's what you want."

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: It's hard to say exactly how much of this chapter is preserved, or at least preserved in some form because I'm pretty sure that both Cadance's arrival at Beacon and Last Shot were both originally in different chapters to this one, but equally there are bits of both preserved here from their original usages. Meanwhile, Amber's choice itself, and everything surrounding it, is quite different. It gets to the same place in the end, but it gets there by a different route.

Are You Excited (Rewritten)

Are You Excited?

The amphitheatre was filling up with students, as young huntsmen and huntresses from every school gathered in the auditorium for the announcement of the thirty-two teams who had, by various methods, been selected to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.

As Team SAPR took their seats in the upper gallery, it was interesting for Pyrrha to watch the way in which the balance of students filling up the room reflected the methods by which each school selected their eight teams of contestants.

The Shade students had drawn lots, amongst themselves but under the supervision of Professor Goodwitch to ensure fair play, while the Haven students, of course, had held a qualifying tournament, and so they both already knew exactly who would be competing and who would not. As a result, the numbers of students from those two academies were rather low, although still a little higher than the thirty-two students needed to make up eight full teams. Probably some others had come along to support their friends, or simply to see first-hand who their schools’ representatives would be going up against from Atlas and Beacon.

From Haven, Pyrrha could see Team SSSN on the upper gallery with them, with Sun temporarily abandoning his team to head over to speak to Blake; she could also see Team ABRN down below, mostly by locating Arslan’s rather distinctive mane of pale hair in the semi-darkness.

But it was Beacon and Atlas students who dominated the assembly, as it seemed as though every team from Beacon who still retained any hopes at all of qualifying for the tournament — Pyrrha didn’t see Team GRAY anywhere and couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for them — had arrived to see if their names had been chosen or if Professor Ozpin had passed them over. The Atlas students were almost as numerous, although perhaps not quite so much; perhaps they had a better understanding of how General Ironwood perceived them, and thus, their likelihood to make the cut.

It was from Beacon and Atlas, too, that most of the electricity in the room was coming; for the students of Shade and Haven, this outcome was already preordained — well, of course it was already preordained for everybody; the choices had been made — but for those from Beacon and Atlas who did not already know the outcome, it felt as though there were still possibilities waiting before them, and anticipation filled the air in consequence.

Pyrrha could see Team WWSR below, Weiss’ white bolero glowing to make her look even more ethereally lovely than usual in the lack of light; Team YRBN were up in the gallery above, not far from Team SAPR, and Ruby and Yang were chatting as they waited for the selection to begin. A slight stir behind them alerted Pyrrha to the arrival of Team RSPT; Penny waved to them as the Atlesians took their seats near the back.

There were also cameras in the auditorium, which was not usual but at the same time not unexpected; the Vytal Festival was a public event, after all, and the selection of the competing huntsmen was no less public business than any of the fights themselves. That was why the news crews were in here, gathered between the students and the stage, even as other cameras, mounted on low-flying drones, hovered near the ceiling capturing wide-shots of the students sitting down below and in the gallery above.

The fact that one of those drones seemed to be looking directly at her served as a reminder to Pyrrha, as though she could have forgotten, that there would be even more publicity waiting outside.

It cannot be helped.

The price of glory.

A price I can pay for a little while longer.

“Hey, everyone!” Penny said, as she left her team to approach them. “Are you excited?”

“Hey, Penny,” Ruby said.

“I would say,” said Sunset, “that we are quietly confident.”

Yang snorted. “Only without the quiet part. You know that you’re going to make it through because there’ll be riots in Mistral if Pyrrha doesn’t get selected.”

“We are going to make it through because we had a fantastic Last Shot,” Sunset replied, “and because we’re awesome. You must be feeling pretty confident yourselves; you had a good showing, you’ve done well.”

Yang held up her hand, rocking it gently back and forth. “I’d say nervous and excited, in equal measure, more or less.”

“Yang just doesn’t want to jinx it by saying we’re a shoo-in,” Nora said from the end of the bench on which the team was sat. She folded her arms behind her head. “But I’m not nervous at all. I had a dream where we got picked and then went on to win the whole tournament.”

“Really?” Sunset murmured. “I wouldn’t put money on that if I were you.”

“How about you, Penny?” asked Ruby. “Are you excited, nervous…?”

“I…” Penny hesitated for a moment. “I was looking forward to it, but now … I suppose I still am looking forward, but not as much as I was … the idea of showing off in front of everyone just doesn’t seem as important anymore.”

“Nah, it’s not important,” Yang agreed, “but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun, right?”

“I suppose it could be,” Penny allowed. She hesitated again, clasping her hands together, dry-washing them nervously. “Can I ask your advice about something?”

Everyone twisted in their seats to look at her.

“Of course, Penny,” Pyrrha said. “Any way that we can help, we’d be glad to.”

“I think I might know what this is about,” Blake murmured. “Is this about who goes through in the matches?”

“What do you mean?” asked Sunset.

Penny nodded. “Yes, that’s it, exactly.”

“I thought you were going through to the one-on-one round?” Jaune said.

“That was the plan,” Penny said softly. “But now, Rainbow Dash says that, since I’m transferring to Beacon at the end of this year … that she wants to be the one to go through to the final round.”

“I’ll bet she does,” Sunset muttered.

“That’s … that’s just mean!” Ruby said. “The whole year, you’ve been told that you were going to be the one competing in the final round, and now, Rainbow just wants to yank it all away from you! How could you?!”

That last was said with a raised voice, directed towards Rainbow Dash where she sat with the rest of her team.

“Calm down, Ruby,” Blake said. “It’s not … as bad as it sounds.”

“It sounds, I must say, like a punishment,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although, I must admit…”

Penny looked at her. “Must admit what, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “I … it doesn’t matter.”

She didn’t wish to offend Penny, after all; their friendship was more important than the rights or wrongs of some tournament.

“No, it does; I’m sure it does,” Penny said. “Whatever you have to say, I won’t be upset.”

Pyrrha smiled slightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I … I do not know what Rainbow said to you, nor do I claim to know her mind, although I’m sure Blake will correct me if I misspeak, but … to fight in the Vytal Festival tournament — to fight in any great tournament, but especially this one, the greatest tournament in the whole of Remnant, is a great honour. Not only the honour of being allowed to strut upon the grand stage before the eyes of kingdoms, nor of being allowed to offer up our skill and courage as offerings to … to the gods, perhaps, or if not them … I know not, but I believe there must be some higher being or essence that governs the contests within our little world, looks down upon our efforts, smiles at the valiant and honourable and creases their forehead in a frown at those who disgrace the arena with their contact. In any event, the greatest and most sacred honour that is done to us is that of being allowed to do honour not to ourselves but to those for whom or in whose name we fight.

“To win the Mistral tournament was not merely a matter of placing a laurel crown upon my head or driving in a chariot through the streets with an actress pretending to be Victory, it was a matter of becoming, for a year’s turn, the embodiment of Mistral and its highest ideals, of proving myself worth to represent Mistral and all that is best about it. And, while I am not the most fond of it, the name ‘the Princess Without a Crown’ that was bestowed on me displays that I fought not only for myself but for the long line of my ancestors, without whom I am … nothing.

“To fight in the Vytal Festival tournament, to be amongst the names that will soon be announced, that is not just to ascend to a flying arena and fight a few matches for a cheering crowd—”

“That’s pretty much exactly what it is,” Ruby said.

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “No, it is more than that; it is to carry the honour of Beacon, or Atlas, or Haven, or Shade like a banner upon our backs. We do not fight merely for ourselves, but for our teams, for our schools … and for our kingdoms. Yang makes sport of me when she says that Mistral will be displeased if I am not selected, but … Yang is not wrong. I do fight for Mistral, as much or more than for myself, or else why should they look forward in Mistral to the prospect of my victory, why did so many — myself and my mother included — fly to Atlas hoping to see Lady Terri-Belle triumph? Why was Robyn Hill the toast of Atlas when she took home the victory? We do not fight only for ourselves but for those who put us on our pedestals, pedestals which, though they may be uncomfortable for us at times, nevertheless are signs that we are done great honour.

“And so, I must agree with Rainbow Dash, if that is her thought, that it seems … perverse that you should receive the honour of representing Atlas Academy at a time when you are poised to take your leave of Atlas.” She glanced at Blake. “Is that her thought?”

“Pretty much,” Blake murmured. “Perhaps in fewer words.”

Pyrrha let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Well, yes, that … that is to be expected.”

“Hmm, when you put it like that,” Penny murmured, “I suppose … I wish Rainbow had said that to me, instead of saying it to Blake and then waiting for Pyrrha to translate it for me.”

“Would you have listened, if Rainbow had said it to you?” asked Blake calmly.

Penny’s mouth opened a little, but she said nothing. “I … maybe not,” she admitted, “but now that you’ve said it… I’m not sure if I should even go forward into the two-on-two round. I don’t really deserve it, do I?”

“Is it about what you deserve?” asked Ruby. “What Pyrrha said sounds all well and cool and all, but if you really want to fight—”

“But do I?” asked Penny. “Or is that just what my fathers expected of me?”

“We can’t answer that one, Penny,” Sunset said. “Only you can.”

Penny nodded silently. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, you’re right. I can answer that.” She smiled. “Thank you, Pyrrha, that was very helpful.”

“Was it?” asked Pyrrha. “I’m glad I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all,” said Penny, shaking her head vigorously. “I get it. Mostly. You’ve given me … something to think about. And I should probably go back and do that—”

“Not right now,” Jaune said. “I mean, you’ve got time, right?”

“Yes,” Penny agreed. “Yes, I do, but I should still probably—”

“Quiet please, everyone,” Professor Goodwitch said, her voice echoing off the rafters of the auditorium as she walked up onto the stage, followed quickly after by Skystar Aris.

Skystar was dressed in a short white dress which went down to her knees, adorned with white feathers — swan feathers, perhaps, or maybe dove feathers to represent the peace that the Vytal Festival as a whole celebrated — at the shoulders, and about the hem of her dress. The golden straps of the sandals that she wore on her feet glistened slightly as she bounded up onto the stage.

She was wearing a microphone around her head, and as the ambient conversation in the auditorium died down, she used it to send her voice booming out.

“Hey, everyone!” she cried. “We’re about to announce who is going to compete in this, the fortieth biannual Vytal Festival; are you excited?”

A soft smattering of murmured affirmation ran across the room.

Skystar pouted. “Come on, guys, that was terrible! Let’s try that again with a bit of feeling: are you excited?!”

“Yes!” Pyrrha cried, along with Jaune and Ruby and even Sunset, along with Penny, along with a great mass of voices coming from above and below.

“Yeah, that’s better!” Skystar cried. “I’m going to need you to keep up that energy because this is going to be broadcast live in just a little while. That’s why all the cameras are here, obviously. Now, as Amity Princess, it is my great honour to reveal the names of all the teams who will be taking part in the tournament. Professor Goodwitch has given me the names, thank you, Professor.” She bowed her head in the direction of Professor Goodwitch, who did not react. “I haven’t seen them yet, they’re on my scroll, and I will read out the team names, and the names of all the students who make up that team, starting with Shade Academy, then Haven, then Atlas, then Beacon. As I read out the names, the team initials will also go up on the big board behind me, so that everyone knows how to spell them.”

She paused. “Because, I have to tell you, I have no idea how you get to some of these pronunciations. I asked for Professor Goodwitch to give me the team names as words, because otherwise, there was just going to be no way … it would have been me up here gargling letters and trying to make them fit together.” She smiled, as chuckles rang across the auditorium. “As I say, this is going to be broadcast, so if you get picked, please feel free to look and act enthusiastic; it’s all in good fun and, it would be awesome if that came across to the viewers at home. If you didn’t get picked, please don’t look too disappointed; it…” She trailed off for a moment. “Can I be real for just a second? Sorry, Professor, I’ll get back on track soon, I promise.”

She looked down at her feet for a second, one hand brushing against the feathers on the hem of her skirt. “I know that this hasn’t been the best Vytal Festival ever,” she said, her voice becoming quieter. “It’s been … it’s been a year, hasn’t it? It’s been a tough year for some people, a lot’s happened, a lot’s changed … to those of you visiting from other kingdoms, I’m sorry that we couldn’t give you the experience you were probably looking forward to.

“But what that means is, what I’m trying to say is, that whether you get chosen or not, whether I read out your names or I don’t … you’re all heroes in my eyes; you survived the year, you stepped up when it counted, you’re all heroes, and you all deserve to be proud of yourselves, whether or not you get in the fight in the tournament or not.”

Skystar took a deep breath and then put the smile back on her face. “But with that seriousness out of the way, I think we’re almost ready to start, isn’t that right?” She directed the question to someone down below, whose response Pyrrha couldn’t hear, presumably because they weren’t wearing a microphone. “Yes, yes, we are almost ready. I don’t know what the other kingdoms are filling the airtime with, but I think that here in Vale, they’ve got Beacon’s own Doctor Oobleck talking about the history of the Vytal Festival while they wait for us. Just some quick housekeeping before we begin: tonight, for those of you who are selected, there is a special celebration being held at the Lord Mayor’s Palace where there are a lot of people who are very keen to meet you from all four kingdoms, and for those of you who did not get selected, there is a party being put on for you in the ballroom here at Beacon. Also, it isn’t just the televised news; it’s the newspapers as well, so once the announcements are done, if all students who are competing in the tournament could make their way outside to the statue in the courtyard for a big group photo, and then there may be requests for individual interviews with certain students.” She paused. “Okay, with all that out of the way…” She leaned forwards, towards the edge of the stage. “Five seconds? Great.”

As a drone descended from the ceiling to hover in front of her face, Skystar began to count down. “Five, four, three, two, one: Hello everyone! My name is Skystar Aris, and I am the Amity Princess of this, the fortieth biannual Vytal Festival! Amongst my duties, it is my great pleasure, honour, and privilege to announce for you, today, which of the many splendid students from the four Huntsman Academies will be competing for your entertainment and the honour of their schools in the tournament to begin very soon.”

She’s very good at this, Pyrrha thought admiringly. I wonder how much practice she did beforehand?

“If this is your first Vytal Festival,” Skystar went on, “let me briefly summarise how it works for you: each school has selected eight teams, which I will announce very soon. Each of those eight teams will fight one battle with all four members of the team, after which, the winning team will choose two of their members to advance to the next round, facing off against another pair of winners. From the winning pair, one single huntsman or huntress will be chosen to advance, giving us eight final contestants, who will then compete in three more rounds to give us a single winner crowned as this year’s Vytal Champion.”

Skystar got her scroll out from the purse that hung across her shoulders. “And so, without further ado, let me announce the contestants, beginning with Vacuo’s Shade Academy.” She glanced very briefly down at her scroll, but only very briefly before she returned her attention to the camera drone in front of her, and then to the audience of huntsmen and huntresses gathered to hear her words.

“Team Bronze,” Skystar declared, as the letters BRNZ appeared on the screen behind her, accompanied by four headshots of the members of the team in question. “Brawnz Ni, Roy Stallion, Nolan Porfirio, May Zedong.”

There were a few scattered cheers, but nothing extraordinary, which made Pyrrha feel a little sorry for Team BRNZ.

Skystar did not let it discomfort her, but continued on regardless. “Team Indigo,” she said, as the letters BRNZ and the pictures of the team members were replaced by the letters NDGO, and the pictures of four girls, all of whom whooped at the announcement. “Nebula Violette, Dew Gayl, Gwen Darcy, Octavia Ember.

“Team Umber,” Skystar said, prompting cheering and stamping on the floor not only from Team UMBR themselves as their names and faces appeared up on the board, but from three other teams sat around them also. All of them, Pyrrha noticed as she looked down, were wearing silver armbands upon their right arms, like Mistralian honour bands, but each of them absolutely identical. And, of course, worn on the wrong arm. Pyrrha wondered if there was some significance to it, if it had anything to do with Umber being from Mistral, but — according to her own words whilst planning the parade — having left in something of a bad odour.

“Umber Gorgoneion,” Skystar said, reciting the names of the members of Team UMBR. “Mariel Bell, Bellerophon Podasos, Reap Eastbound.

“Team Gear,” Skystar continued, as the faces of Team UMBR made way for those of Team GEAR. “Olive Gashley, Elektra Fury, Ariadne Guimet, Rae Noire.

“Team Sugar,” Skystar said, and the GEAR was replaced in its turn by an SUGA. “Silver Blaze, Uxbridge Scot, Garron Numidian, Alexander Fourprong,

“Which party are you planning to go to?” Penny whispered.

Aware that there was a camera on her, and not wanting to appear rude, Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed straight ahead and did not look at Penny; however, with her attention thus distracted, she found it hard to pay attention to the other Shade teams.

“We hadn’t quite decided yet, Penny,” she said, very softly, and out of only one side of her mouth, in hopes that it wouldn’t be too obvious for the cameras that her lips were moving. “Not least because—”

“We should go to the winners’ thing,” Sunset hissed.

“We don’t yet know that we are winners,” Pyrrha replied. “Or even competitors. And even if we are, what does it gain us?”

“You said that I should go and meet Turnus Rutulus because he was a useful person to know,” Ruby reminded her. “Isn’t it the same case here?”

“For you, perhaps,” Pyrrha conceded. “I fear that I am already far too well connected.”

Sunset snorted. “As if there is such a thing.”

“An evening of getting snubbed by snobs doesn’t really appeal to me—” Jaune began.

“They won’t be snubbing you,” Sunset assured him. “We’re the Vytal contestants, we’re the stars; they’re all going to be there to meet us.”

“Why?” asked Jaune.

“Sponsorship, for one,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Sounds boring,” Nora said, a little too loudly, so that someone sitting nearby shushed her.

“Some people are trying to listen,” Ren pointed out.

“Sorry,” Nora whispered. She was silent for a couple of seconds. “It still sounds boring, though.”

“I’m not sure whether it’s meant to be interesting,” Blake said, “but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t useful.”

“Of course you’d think like that,” Yang said, a touch of amusement evident despite how quiet she was being, “but just because it might be useful for you in your military career doesn’t mean that we’ll get anything out of it.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Penny agreed. “Ciel was talking about how it was important to make future connections to influential figures, and I can’t see why—”

Now someone shushed Penny, who quieted instantly.

“And that’s all of the Shade teams, congratulations to all of you,” Skystar declared, “and now, moving swiftly on, it’s the Haven students, beginning with: Team Jasmine!”

The entire Haven student body erupted in applause — whether Team JAMM, as their name appeared on the board, were so very popular, or else because the Haven students had decided to support one another, come what may, Pyrrha didn’t know; she wasn’t sure it really mattered — as the faces of Medea, Atalanta, Jason, and Meleager appeared underneath the letters of their names.

“Jason Chrysomallos,” Skystar said, doing a commendable job with the Mistralian names, “Atalanta Calydon, Medea Helios, Meleager Aetolis.

“Team Volcano,” she announced, to more applause as the JAMM became replaced with the letters VLCA. “Violet Valeria, Lily Cornelia, Cicero Ward the Younger, Rufus August.

“Team Ball,” Skystar continued, and for once, the letters BALL were quite as expected, and almost unnecessary. “Bassianus Hadrian, Aemilius Alba, Lavinia Andronicus, Lucius Andronicus.

“Team Sun,” Skystar said.

Blake stood up and started applauding as the VLCA made way for SSSN.

“Sun Wukong—”

“Aren’t you going to cheer for him?” asked Yang.

“I don’t really have a cheering voice,” Blake replied.

“Scarlet David—”

“Give it a try,” Yang urged.

“Sage Ayana—”

Blake’s cheeks reddened a little as she took a deep breath, before saying in a voice that was barely louder than her speaking voice. “Good luck, Sun. Do your best. Yay.”

“Neptune Vasilias.”

Yang’s eyebrows climbed up into the recesses of her overhanging yellow bangs. “Yeah, you’re right; you don’t have a cheering voice, do you?”

“Team Auburn,” Skystar said.

“Yes!” Pyrrha said, clapping her hands together. She had never really had a doubt, of course, but that did not diminish her pleasure.

If the fates allow, Arslan, it will be an honour to face you across the battlefield one last time.

Sunset was applauding too.

“Arslan Altan—”

“Yeah!” Arslan yelled, leaping to her feet and raising one fist into the air. “Get ready, 'cause here I come!”

Skystar went on regardless. “Reese Chloris, Bolin Hori, Nadir Shiko.”

Sunset’s applause slowed down, and she ventured a sideways glance to take in her own team, Team YRBN, and Penny. “You’re all being very shortsighted,” she said quietly. “Except for Blake, and Pyrrha, to an extent.”

“Shhhh.”

“Oh, shush yourself!” Sunset snapped quietly, her fiery hair tossing around her as she turned to look for the source of the reproach.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured, a little reproachfully in her own right.

“My point is,” Sunset went on, “that it’s always good to have friends in high places. You might not think you need them now, but who’s to say, a few years down the line or more, you might be glad that you can say to someone rich, or someone important, or someone who can help you speak to someone important ‘remember me, we met at the Vytal Festival?’ On the other hand, if you just don’t show up, if you act like you don’t care, like it doesn’t matter to you at all, then people will remember. Some things, you just have to sit through, not even for the sake of a good reputation, but simply to avoid getting a bad one. We should all go to the contenders’ thing, and that includes you, Penny.”

“But I—”

“You’ve burnt your bridges with Atlas,” Sunset informed her, not unkindly, but not sugarcoating the point either. “There’s no time like the present to start building some in Vale.”

Pyrrha leaned towards Sunset ever so slightly, so that she could whisper into Sunset’s ear. “Speaking from experience?”

The corner of Sunset’s lip twitched. “Princess Celestia dragged me to all sorts of things,” she said. “Concerts, soirees, dinners with the great and the good.”

“I hope you enjoyed it more than I did,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Not really; I felt superior to all of them and resented having to share the princess,” Sunset admitted. “It didn’t do me any good, but it didn’t do me any harm either. And it would have done me good, much good, if I had fulfilled the destiny that my princess intended for me. Or any other destiny I chose, for that matter.”

“And now,” Skystar said, “for the Atlas teams.”

The group fell silent. They didn’t want to miss this, at least not until it was confirmed that Penny’s team had indeed been selected.

“Team Tsunami—”

Blake smiled as she began to applaud. So, too, did Sunset.

“Trixie Lulamoon, Tempest Shadow, Starlight Glimmer, Sunburst Flare.”

“Yes!” cried Trixie, as her fellow Atlas students began to applaud in a polite and dignified manner. “Yes, Trixie got in! We got in, Starlight! We’re going to be in the Vytal Festival! Woohoo!”

She pulled Starlight up, onto her feet, and into a wrenching embrace as she half-danced up and down, tugging Starlight this way and that, while her fellow students watched in various degrees of amusement, bemusement, or despair.

“Team Pastel,” Skystar went on, as the letters PSTL formed on the board, together with the pictures of Phoebe and her teammates. “Phoebe Kommenos, Mal Sapphire, Thorn Hubert, Lycus Silvermane.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips. If fate were to decree that she and Phoebe’s paths did not cross, she would not be sorry for it, although a part of her wanted to pay Phoebe back for smearing her name as Pyrrha was almost certain she had done.

Nevertheless, that was only a part of her, and not the dominant part at that. She would rather have a fight that she could look back on with pride than fleeting revenge against someone who was, in the end, a rather minor, unimportant figure in her life.

“Team Funky!” Skystar announced, seemingly powerless to avoid putting the inflection at the end of the word as the letters FNKI appeared above her. “Flynt Koal, Neon Katt, Kobalt Cecilia, Ivori Blesdale.

“Team Sabre,” Skystar said, prompting the appearance of the letters SABR on the board. “Sabine Silverband, Aaron Moore, Bella Roseeye, Reynard Kerak.

“Team Rosepetal—”

Pyrrha had known this was almost certainly coming, but that didn’t stop her from letting out a gasp of delight. “Congratulations, Penny.”

She gave a wave to the other members of Team RSPT, besides. Rainbow, looking rather pleased with herself as she embraced Twilight with one arm, gave her a thumbs up, before enfolding her other arm around Twilight as well. She might not be dancing up and down the way that Trixie was, but as Pyrrha looked at her, from the way that the light glinted in Rainbow’s eyes, it looked as though the Atlesian girl might be about to start crying.

“Great job, Penny!” Ruby said, as Sunset reached out with one hand to ruffle Penny’s hair.

Penny smiled, but only slightly, and a little sadly too. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank … thank you,” she added.

Pyrrha frowned. “Penny,” she murmured. “I … I didn’t upset you before, did I? I promise, it wasn’t my intent; I—”

“No,” Penny said. “No, no, that’s not it at all; it wasn’t … well, maybe it is, a little, but only because it’s true, and because, well … I think I might owe Rainbow Dash an apology. I thought … especially since I’m not even sure how much this means to me anymore.”

“If you do apologise, I’m sure she’ll understand,” Ruby urged. “Everything has changed for you lately; it’s understandable that things are a little confused.”

“Now,” Skystar said, “the Beacon teams and students taking part in the Vytal Festival are as follows.”

“Ooh, ooh, this is us,” Yang said.

“Team Iron: Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren, Blake Belladonna, Nora Valkyrie.”

“Oh, yeah!” Yang shouted, pumping both fists as Ruby whooped in delight next to her.

“Go us!” Nora shouted.

“Team Wisteria,” Skystar went on, as the YRBN made way for the WWSR. “Weiss Schnee, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, Russel Thrush.”

“They have come a long way,” Blake murmured, clasping her hands together over her heart.

“Team Coffee,” Skystar said. “Coco Adel, Fox Alistair, Velvet Scarlatina, Yatsuhashi Daichi.

“Team Jugular,” Skystar said, as the letters JGLR appeared up on the board together with four more headshots. “Jessica Tubal, Grace Maidstone, Lance Gobham, Redwine Belmont.

“Team Ichor,” Skystar announced, JGLR being replaced by ICHR. “Iris Marilla, Castor Laconia, Harold Noblestone, Roland Roncesvalles.”

“You should make up with Rainbow before the celebration thing,” Sunset urged, “or it’ll just make things awkward.”

“You’re really not letting up on that, are you?” Yang asked.

“You’re all going if I have to drag you there myself,” Sunset said. “Answer me this: you’re tired, you’re worn out, you’ve been on the road for a while, do you want to depend on the kindness of strangers, or do you want to call up a well-placed contact who has the resources to supply you with everything you need for the next phase of your journey?” Sunset barely waited for a reply. “And it’s one night of your lives; really, what have you got to lose?”

“Well, when you put it like that—” Yang began.

“Team Sapphire,” Skystar said. “Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose.”

“Congratulations!” Penny cried, attempting to wrap her arms around the necks of all four members of the team, as the SAPR letters and their headshots appeared on the screen above. Her arms were not quite long enough, but they were sufficient to begin pushing the four of them together, even as Penny pushed her head into the gap between Jaune and Pyrrha. “Congratulations, all of you! Are you excited?”

Certainly, some people were excited, many of the Haven students were cheering for her, and Yang and Blake were applauding.

And Pyrrha … Pyrrha found that she was excited too. This was her last tournament, her last showing in the arena before she said goodbye to that old life, to the Pyrrha Nikos of trophies and crowns, to the Invincible Girl and all the rest. After this tournament, after this year, she would be a huntress only. A huntress and a servant to Professor Ozpin — somewhat reluctantly, at this point — and to the people of Remnant. After this tournament, she would be … someone else. Someone less famous, someone less known, someone less thought of, and yet, at the same time, someone who was doing better work, living a worthier life than she had done before.

This would be her last tournament, a tournament filled with good friends and worthy opponents, fought on the grandest stage in Remnant, before the greatest crowd, on the most significant, almost sacred of occasions.

What more could she, or her friends, or even her mother possibly ask for?

This would be her last tournament, and it was shaping up to be the best one yet.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This chapter is shorter than the original, with stuff like Pinkie's afterparty removed and the focus solely upon the actual announcing of all the Vytal Festival teams. This is because there is some stuff after this around parental reactions and interviews that turned into one of the longest chapters in this entire story so far, so this chapter got cut off at a somewhat reasonable point.

Proud Parents (New)

Proud Parents

It was no These Are My Jewels, but the statue of the huntsman and the huntress in Beacon courtyard was a reasonable backdrop to the photoshoot, at least as far as Rainbow was concerned.

The thirty-two teams, one hundred and twenty eight students in all, were formed up by their teams and by their schools, one rank kneeling at the front and the other standing behind. Nobody was actually standing on any part of the statue, which would have reduced frontage but maybe would have been disrespectful.

Even so, with a hundred and twenty eight students, the photographers had had to get quite far off in order to get them all in the shot. It was going to look like a class graduation photo, and about as detailed.

Although Rainbow thought they would be coming in for closer shots of only some of the students later on.

Nevertheless, despite the lack of detail in the group shot, Rainbow felt it was a pity that the press weren’t going to give out free copies to the students actually in the picture. It wasn’t a graduation photo, but … it still would have been nice to have, you know?

She smiled for the camera, but not too much; everyone was supposed to look happy — it was the Vytal Festival, after all — but she didn’t want to look manic or deranged.

“Rainbow Dash,” Penny whispered from where she stood between Ciel and Twilight. “I need to talk to you, to you and Ciel.”

“Not right now, Penny,” Rainbow replied out of one corner of her mouth. “Later.”

“Okay,” Penny whispered.

Rainbow glanced briefly past the photographers, to where she could see the General standing not far away, watching them, along with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.

General Ironwood didn’t react to Rainbow at all, so she could only think that he hadn’t noticed her looking at him.

The photographers advanced towards them, flashes going off in rapid succession, like muzzle flash from rifles, flash, flash, flash as they bore down upon the students, narrowing their fields of view, taking pictures of just the Beacon students, or the Atlas students, or just this team or that team; maybe they were focusing on individual students, Rainbow couldn’t tell.

Whatever was necessary to adorn the websites of the virtual newspapers, in support of whatever articles their editors might want written up as soon as possible.

“And we’re done!” a man in a suit who had not been taking pictures but who had been supervising the photographers declared. “Anyone who isn’t needed for interviews, you’re free to go.”

“Blake Belladonna!” a woman called, from the crowd of reporters who had been standing just behind their photographic colleagues, the words passing her lips as soon as the possibility of dismissal was raised, just in case Blake got any ideas that her time was her own again. “Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna, I’d like to speak to you, please.”

Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t going to be about the Vytal Festival? Rainbow thought as she glanced at Blake, only to find that Blake was already looking at her.

Rainbow shrugged. What were they going to do, after all? It wasn’t like they could say ‘no’ or pretend that they hadn’t heard her. Regardless of what this woman actually wanted to ask, they were all supposed to be available for interviews right now; it was a price of being part of the Vytal tournament.

The price of glory.

And so, as the student body broke up, some of them answering requests from other reporters — Rainbow heard Pyrrha’s name called, and Weiss’ — Rainbow moved through the currents of students, joined quickly by Blake as they walked towards the reporter who had hailed them, who beckoned them to step to one side slightly.

She was a woman with dusky skin, so probably an Atlesian, with dark hair worn short above the shoulders, wearing a blue dress with a big red stripe running right down the middle of it and gold lines running up and down so that it looked kind of like a ladder. A drone hovered just over her shoulder, its one eye fixed on Rainbow and Blake as they walked across the courtyard towards her.

“Hello, students,” she said. “Jillian Khalisa, Northern News…” She glanced past the two of them. “General Ironwood, I’m afraid I don’t need a comment from you at this time.”

“Thank the gods for that,” General Ironwood muttered, “but I’m afraid I don’t need your permission to keep an eye on two of my students. They might not be used to your methods yet.”

Ms. Khalisa inhaled through her nostrils. “My ‘methods,’ General Ironwood, are to report the truth without fear or favour.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Two of your students? I understood that Blake Belladonna was a Beacon student?”

“I’m transferring to Atlas,” Blake said.

“The paperwork has already been submitted to and approved by myself and Professor Ozpin,” General Ironwood added.

“That was done with little ceremony,” Ms. Khalisa noted.

“I wasn’t aware that a student transferring from one school to another was considered newsworthy,” General Ironwood replied. “I’ll make a note to send you a press release every time it happens.”

Ms. Khalisa gave a very tight smile and made a wordless noise that sounded like it was maybe intended to be mocking laughter — or irritation, perhaps; it was hard to tell. Either way, she looked at her hovering drone. “Did you get any of that?”

The drone burbled.

“What do you mean you weren’t rec— never mind. Start recording!”

A light switched on from just beside the camera lens jutting out from the drone’s spherical body.

Ms. Khalisa cleared her throat. “Rainbow Dash, let’s start with you. How does it feel to be called the White Fang’s best recruiting sergeant?”

“What?” Blake snapped, her hands clenching into fists. “That’s—”

“Belladonna, calm down,” General Ironwood said. “She’s trying to get a rise out of you. Dash, don’t answer that.”

Rainbow looked at him, where he stood on the sidelines, watching without being in-shot. “Sir, if it’s alright by you, I’d like to try.”

General Ironwood looked into Rainbow’s eyes, silent for a moment, before he nodded. “Go ahead, Dash.”

Rainbow clasped her hands together behind her back. “I … think,” she said, “that you should be asking whoever is calling me that what they mean by it. Because if they mean that we should have done nothing, that we should have let the SDC keep on abusing people in those camps, just to keep it all hushed up so the White Fang wouldn’t have anything to complain about? That says more about the people talking about me than it does about me, or Blake. But, if you ask me what I think, I think it’s a load of crap. I think the fact that we have proven that it’s possible to trust the system, to trust the authorities to do the right thing, I don’t think that helps the White Fang at all.”

“Hmm,” Ms Khalisa said. “So you would reject the accusation that your actions place the needs of the faunus above the needs of Atlas?”

“Yes!” Rainbow snapped.

“This interview is supposed to be about the forthcoming tournament,” General Ironwood declared. “Either ask some relevant questions, or we’re done.”

Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment or two. She glanced down at the scroll in her hand. “Rainbow Dash, do you feel proud to represent Atlas in the tournament?”

“Absolutely,” Rainbow said. “It’s a great honour. There are a lot of people I hope I can make proud: General Ironwood, Cou—”

“Don’t list them all, kid; this is an interview, not an awards ceremony,” Ms. Khalisa muttered. “And Blake Belladonna, conversely, does it disappoint you that you aren’t getting to represent Atlas in the tournament? Do you feel as if you have the right to compete under false colours?”

“They aren’t false colours yet,” Blake growled. “I’m still a Beacon student. I take your point, but that’s why I won’t be continuing on past the four by four round.”

“But even then, you’ll still be competing.”

“And if I didn’t compete, then my team wouldn’t be eligible for the tournament,” Blake said. “I don’t see why I should deny my teammates their moment of glory just to indulge a point of principle. That would be pointlessly selfish of me.”

“I see,” Ms Khalisa murmured. She smirked. “And how have you both found Vale as a host for the fortieth biannual tournament?”

Rainbow caught the frown on General Ironwood’s face, and thought that she could work out why: she was trying to get them on the anti-Atlas stuff that had been going on lately.

Based on the look on General Ironwood’s face, he would rather that they didn’t get into that, and so Rainbow said, “There’s no place like home, but Vale is nice enough. Everyone here at Beacon has been very welcoming and friendly. I’ve made some great friends here in the spirit of the Vytal Festival.”

“And you, Miss Belladonna?” asked Ms. Khalisa, sounding a bit disappointed in Rainbow’s bland answer.

“Um … the same,” Blake said uncertainly. “After I was … exposed as an Atlesian agent … I’ve had reason to be grateful for the support and the welcome I’ve received from the other students here at Beacon.”

“But we’re not talking about Beacon,” Ms. Khalisa insisted. “We’re talking about Vale, the city, the kingdom; how have you found Vale as Atlas students?”

“The cafes are okay,” Rainbow said. She grinned. “But you can’t get a decent apple pie like my friend’s granny makes.”

“You haven’t experienced any hostility from the general population?” Ms Khalisa asked.

A wordless rumble issued from General Ironwood’s throat.

“It’s a valid question, General, considering that Vale is hosting the tournament.”

“I’ll decide what a valid question is to ask my students,” General Ironwood said.

“Then perhaps I should be asking you, General, whether you think it is an appropriate use of Atlas’ resources to be defending a kingdom which can’t or won’t defend itself? If the Valish are so arrogant as to think that they can get by without proper kingdom defence, then why should Atlas pick up the slack? You want to protect your students from me, but you want them to die for Vale?”

“There’s a difference between fighting and dying,” Rainbow said. “We do the first, not the second.”

“But we’re prepared to give our lives, if need be,” Blake declared. “For the sake of humanity. You might call it dying for Vale, but Atlas can’t survive on its own, any more than Vale could, or Mistral, or Vacuo. We’re all interconnected, and we all have to stand together.”

Ms. Khalisa glanced at her, then returned her attention to General Ironwood. “Did you teach her to say that?” she asked.

“Belladonna isn’t a parrot to recite phrases; she’s a student who has imbibed the values of the huntsman academies and this festival,” General Ironwood. “And you’re done.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes,” General Ironwood said heavily. “You are.”

Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment. She stared at General Ironwood as though she was trying to intimidate him. Then, snorting in irritation, she snapped her fingers, and the light on her drone went out.

“Off the record, General Ironwood, you do appreciate the irony, don’t you?” she asked. “Protecting your students from the monstrous reporter, but not the monsters with teeth and claws.”

“Teeth and claws, they can handle with aplomb,” General Ironwood said. “The press can be a trickier adversary.”

“Only if you’re afraid of the truth.”

“'The truth'?” General Ironwood asked. “Or your agenda?”

“The people are waking up, General Ironwood,” Ms. Khalisa said. “They’re asking themselves why we spend so much lien on outfitting ships and soldiers to fly around the world defending other kingdoms while our own people live in poverty in Mantle. They’re waking up, and the lofty-sounding pieties that you’ve got your students mouthing so well won’t convince them for much longer.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “And if they have to choose between their wellbeing and that of the faunus—”

“I think Mantle made that choice already,” Blake said. “It chose to understand that humans and faunus are stronger together than they are apart.”

Ms. Khalisa didn’t reply. She simply turned away, her dress swirling around her a little bit.

General Ironwood watched her go until they could be sure that she was heading towards the docking bays, then he turned his attention back to Rainbow and Blake.

“It’s unfortunate that happened,” he said. “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let her get within fifty yards, but the press have to be allowed in to report on the Vytal Festival.” He smiled a little. “On the plus side, I thought you both handled that pretty well, especially you, Dash. Belladonna, I was a little worried what you were going to do after that first question.”

“She had no right to say that,” Blake growled.

“No,” General Ironwood agreed. “But that’s Jillian Khalisa’s stock in trade; she seeks to rile up her interviewees through provocative statements, get them to lose their cool. I’m glad you didn’t lose yours.”

“But who is she?” asked Blake.

“She works for Northern News,” General Ironwood said. “They’re—”

“Racist?” Blake suggested.

“Isolationist,” General Ironwood said. “They believe in Atlas first, and let the other kingdoms stand — or fall — on their own two feet. As for the faunus … the general tenet of their reporting, certainly of Khalisa’s reporting, is that the faunus will not, cannot ever be regarded as fully Atlesian.”

“So … racist,” Blake said.

Rainbow snorted.

The corners of General Ironwood’s mouth rose in a slight smile. “Yes, Belladonna, you could say that.”

“Does she have viewers?” asked Blake. “Do people listen to her?”

“That’s assuming that she’s telling people what to think and not reflecting what they already think back at them,” Rainbow said, “but don’t worry about it; Northern News is a joke: they get low ratings, the production values are terrible, and like you said, Mantle made its choice, and it chose to stand up for the faunus because they’re a part of Mantle as much as the humans are. All of that ‘we’re the voice of the real Atlas’ stuff is just garbage; you’ve seen the real Atlas. You’ve actually seen more of Atlas than I kind of hoped you would.”

Blake looked at her, eyebrows rising. “Really?”

“You think I wanted to show you Mantle?”

Blake chuckled. “No, I suppose you probably didn’t,” she admitted. “But I’m glad you did.”

“I’d be prepared for your words to be taken out of context,” General Ironwood warned, “but Dash is right: I wouldn’t lose sleep over it; it’s unlikely that many people will hear your words or see your face.” He paused. “Which is almost a pity, because you answered that first question well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said. “I don’t suppose there are any real journalists around who want to interview us?”

General Ironwood laughed. “I’m sure that you’ll be able to find someone who wouldn’t object to hearing from the Warrior Princess of Menagerie or the Ace of Canterlot, if you really want to tell a camera how proud you are to be representing Atlas in the tournament.”

“I am proud, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’m proud, and … I meant what I said there, although she didn’t let me finish, that there are a lot of people that I want to make proud, a lot of people who’ve helped me get this far: Twilight, Twilight’s parents, my parents … you.”

General Ironwood’s back straightened a little bit, which was impressive because he hadn’t exactly been slouching before now. Nevertheless, it was like he managed to push his shoulders back a little bit more, to straighten up even further.

He also raised his chin a bit more, but that wasn’t so impressive.

“You … you don’t need to compete in a tournament to make me proud, Dash,” he said. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, but his hand felt heavy all the same. “You’ve done that already.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said quietly. “But I’d like to do it again, if I can.” She paused. “Um, sir … I’ve been thinking about something, and I’d like to hear what you have to say about it … I know how this might sound, but I think that I should go forward to the one-on-one round instead of Penny, since she’s going to be transferring to Beacon for next year.”

“On the grounds that someone who doesn’t want to stay at Atlas doesn’t deserve to represent Atlas at the tournament,” General Ironwood murmured.

“Yes, sir.”

“The purpose of Team Rosepetal was to get Penny into the final rounds of the tournament, as a test of her abilities,” General Ironwood pointed out.

“And the purpose of Penny was to do as she was told, sir; we’re a long way from our intentions,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Undeniable,” General Ironwood muttered. “Have you spoken to Penny about this?”

“I’ve … started talking to her about it, sir.”

“And Penny has talked about it to her friends, sir,” Blake added. “I think she understands the point that Rainbow is trying to make.”

“Then if she’s agreeable, do it,” General Ironwood said. “It would be perverse to say that she’s free to transfer schools but that she’s not free in regards to how far she goes in this tournament.”

“Right, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“And for the record,” General Ironwood added, “I’m certain you will make me proud.”

Rainbow came to attention, one foot slamming down upon the stonework. “Yes, sir.”

General Ironwood removed his hand. “I should go check on the other students,” he said. “Good luck to you as well, Belladonna.”

“Thank you, sir,” Blake said, and she came to attention as well as the General walked between them, walking back towards the statue, to where some of the Atlas students still lingered.

“You know,” Rainbow said, “one way that this really does matter, although even then, I accept it doesn’t matter all that much, but … this is the one time when everyone who supports us gets to see that we really are pretty good at this. And yeah, it’s not the important work, but they can’t see that; they just have to imagine it. This is the one time we can show that ‘hey, this is what you got for all your help.’”

“I’m not sure the people who helped me would appreciate that,” Blake murmured.

“Do they watch the Vytal Festival in the White Fang camp?” Rainbow asked.

Blake raised her eyebrows at her.

“Don’t look at me like that; it’s not a stupid question,” Rainbow insisted. “What do the White Fang do for fun?”

“They’re a resistance group, not an alien species,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, but they hide out in the wilderness; do they even get TV?

“That depends on how close the nearest relay tower is and how confident we were that there was no one trying to locate our position by tracking signals to and from the CCT network,” Blake replied. “I suppose the answer to your questions is that it depends, on the availability and on the character of the leader of any given camp whether they allow it or not.” She paused. “You handled that reporter pretty well, just like the General said. I was surprised you didn’t get upset at that first question.”

“I’d be upset if someone that I cared about said it,” Rainbow replied, “but the kind of people who watch her show, what do I care what they think?”

“So long as there aren’t that many of them,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that, once ideas become sufficiently popular, they enter the mainstream and have to be recognised,” Blake said. “That’s the essence of democracy. That was what my parents were always trying to do, push ideas of faunus rights into the mainstream by rallying support. It didn’t work, but … that was the theory.”

“I get what you’re saying, but her ideas aren’t that popular,” Rainbow assured her. “Speaking of your parents, are you going to call your mom and tell her you got into the tournament?”

“Blake?” Lady Belladonna called. “Blake?”

Blake’s ears wilted a little bit. “Apparently, waiting for a call was too much to ask,” she murmured. “It doesn’t seem fair that she can just come up here whenever she wants without asking me first.”

“Poor Blake, with your loving mother,” Rainbow said, reaching out to slip an arm around Blake’s shoulders. “You’re so oppressed.”

Blake made a wordless growling moan, before she said, “One day, I am going to meet your parents.”

“I know; that’s why I’m making fun of you while I still can,” Rainbow replied. “Frankly, I’m more worried about the fact that your mother made her way up here by herself with no escort.”

“Clearly, she made it okay.”

“That,” Rainbow said, “is not the point.”

Heading in the direction of the docking pads, it didn’t take them long to come across Lady Belladonna coming the other way, wandering down the path from the docks, hands cupped around her mouth as she called out Blake’s name.

Her face lit up at the sight of her daughter. “Blake! Congratulations!” she cried, rushing towards them, her black skirt bouncing up and down. “When I heard the news, I had to come up here and congratulate you in person.”

Blake frowned. “How did you get up here so fast?”

“Well, maybe I was already on the way up here when I heard the news because I had that much confidence in you?” Lady Belladonna suggested. “Does it really matter? The point is that this is wonderful news.” She threw her arms around Blake, enfolding her in a hug.

Blake slowly raised her hands onto her mother’s back, even as she said, “It’s not that big of a deal, Mom; I’m not even going to advance past the four-on-four round.”

“It’s still the Vytal Festival tournament,” Lady Belladonna replied. “You’ll still be up there, in the spotlight, showing what you’re made of in front of all those people.” She laughed. “And besides, I’ve missed six of your birthdays, and even if I hadn’t, I’m still your mother: I’m entitled to be gushingly excited about things that don’t matter to you.”

Blake smiled. “Okay, Mom.”

“Are you excited, Blake?” Lady Belladonna asked, pulling away from Blake just a little bit. “Even a little?”

The smile remained on Blake’s face. “Yes, Mom, I am, although as much for other people as for me. This … this is going to be fun, and everyone deserves some fun after the year we’ve had.”

“Always thinking about others, just like your father,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “I’m so proud of you.” She reached out to pinch Blake’s human ear.

Blake recoiled, ducking her head and holding up her hands to shield her face. “Mom, stop!”

Lady Belladonna covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. She turned her attention to Rainbow. “And Rainbow Dash, did I hear right that your team will also be competing in the tournament?”

“That’s right, ma’am,” Rainbow said.

“Then congratulations are in order for you as well,” Lady Belladonna said, before she reached out and pulled Rainbow into an embrace of her own.

Rainbow froze, arms hanging down limp by her side as she felt Lady Belladonna’s arms around her shoulders, her hair tickling Rainbow’s cheek. “M-… ma’am?”

“Well, your own mother isn’t here to do this, so I’ll just have to fill in for her,” Lady Belladonna said casually. “I hope that you’re more excited about this than Blake is.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Maybe just a little bit, ma’am. I’ve got a list of people I want to impress.”

“In a spiteful way, or a positive one?”

“Um … is there a spiteful way to try and impress someone, ma’am?”

Lady Belladonna released Rainbow from her embrace, taking a step back. “I once asked Ghira, very early in our relationship — maybe a little too early, but it didn’t do me any harm — what drove him on. And he talked about justice and equality and the wellbeing of our people, of course, but then, eventually, he admitted that he was also doing it to show his father that the path he’d chosen was not a worthless one, and not the wrong one for him either.”

Did he feel like he’d managed that by the time he stepped down as leader of the White Fang? Rainbow wondered, but didn’t ask because it didn’t seem like the right time. “In that case, it’s the other kind, ma’am, the … the good kind. All the people who’ve helped me get where I am now.”

“Including your parents?” asked Lady Belladonna.

Rainbow swallowed. “They aren’t here to see it—”

“But I’m sure they’d love to hear that you were selected to compete in the tournament,” Lady Belladonna suggested. “If you give me a letter for them, I’ll make sure to deliver it when I get back to Menagerie.”

Rainbow frowned. “But … the tournament will be over by then, ma’am.”

“Then write more letters,” Lady Belladonna suggested. “Give me a whole sack full of letters for your parents, and I guarantee that I’ll deliver them all, just as I guarantee that they will be overjoyed to receive them, even the ones that are out of date.”

Rainbow didn’t say anything for a second. She supposed … she supposed she really ought to write to her parents some more. Just one letter, dropped on them out of the blue, and then nothing … it wasn’t much better than not writing at all, was it? In fact, it might even be worse, because she’d gotten their hopes up with the first letter.

And it wasn’t as though she didn’t have stuff to talk about, and she’d have more stuff by the time this tournament was over, hopefully.

“Are you sure, ma’am?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“You helped me find my daughter again,” Lady Belladonna declared. “You’d have to go a lot further than that to put me out.”

Rainbow nodded. “Well, if you say so, ma’am, then sure, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll write you that bag full of letters. Thank you.”

“Ciel?” Penny murmured. “Can I … talk to you for a second?”

Ciel’s hand went to the pretty little silver watch she was wearing on her wrist. She had been about to turn away from Penny, now that the photographs had been taken, and nobody had asked to interview either Ciel or Penny, but as Penny called to her, she paused, halfway turned away, one foot half-raised, toe resting on the stonework.

And her hand upon her watch, as if she was about to pull on it.

Twilight stood just behind Penny. Rainbow had already gone with Blake to answer that reporter’s questions.

Maybe it would have been better to have waited until she could speak to Ciel and Rainbow Dash together, but Penny wanted to get it … not get it over with, exactly, but she wanted to say it now, while it was still fresh in her memory.

Maybe it was more Rainbow that she ought to say this to, since it was Rainbow who had brought it up, but this concerned Ciel too, and Penny wanted to say it.

Talking to Pyrrha and the others, what Pyrrha had said about the tournament, it had explained a couple of things to her. It had cleared some things up. Before today, there had still been some things that, as it turned out, she hadn’t quite understood.

About the Vytal Festival tournament, anyway, and about what it meant to compete in it.

Maybe she should have worked them out for herself. Yes, Rainbow hadn’t done so good a job of explaining it as Pyrrha, but at some point, Penny would have to start understanding things on her own and not wait for someone else to lay it out for her all nice and clear.

She shouldn’t have argued with Rainbow Dash when they first bought the subject up. What did the Vytal tournament matter to her anyway? What did it mean to her, whether she won or lost or even competed at all? It was just … no, no it wasn’t just anything, was it? That was what Pyrrha had made clear to her, but at the same time, to her, it kind of was just something, and it was the fact that it was just something to her that meant that she didn’t deserve to have all of the things that the Vytal Festival was.

That made sense. That totally made sense, the logic aligned perfectly, she simply lacked the words to express it in an organic fashion.

To compete in the Vytal tournament was a great honour, and it was an honour that Penny didn’t deserve because she didn’t feel very honoured by it.

There, perfect sense.

Why would she want to compete in the Vytal tournament? To honour Atlas? Atlas meant nothing to her; its flag didn’t stir any pride in her heart, its values didn’t move her at all, she could look up at the sky and feel nothing at the sight of a cruiser gliding overhead. She didn’t feel any drive or desire to honour Atlas, to make the kingdom proud; Atlas might be the kingdom that had made her, but Beacon— Vale was the kingdom she had chosen, the kingdom of kindness that she had found here.

Sometimes, you were born as part of a kingdom that was not the kingdom you were physically born in.

That was something else that made sense, and Penny could point to Blake — born an Atlesian in … Penny didn’t actually know where Blake had been born. Mistral? The point was that she was born an Atlesian but not born in Atlas — as an example to prove it.

Penny herself hadn’t been born, but she had been made in Atlas — but she hadn’t been made an Atlesian, and so, representing Atlas wasn’t something that enthused her; it didn’t fill her soul with warmth or light.

Which meant that she really oughtn’t to take that opportunity away from someone who wanted it, from someone who did feel pride in being Atlesian and wearing the Atlas uniform.

Why would Penny want to compete in the Vytal tournament? There wasn’t anybody she wanted to impress; the only person who might be impressed was her father, and Penny wasn’t that bothered about impressing him. Everyone else, Dad, her friends, they wouldn’t care one way or another. They would be pleased for her if she won, but it wouldn’t change the way they thought about her. Even if she won the whole tournament — not likely, since that would mean beating Pyrrha, and how likely was that? — then they’d be there to cheer her on and to congratulate her, but it wouldn’t change her life.

Penny had already changed her life. A trophy wouldn’t change it any more.

Penny … Penny had already changed her life with the help not of her friends, but of her teammates. Her teammates who maybe deserved some thanks for that.

Her teammates whose lives might be changed by winning this tournament, or at least getting far along the road.

Her teammates who had been born Atlesian and who had something to prove and who … it might not change their lives, but they would probably get more out of it than Penny would.

Ciel looked at Penny without turning her face towards her. “You … want to speak to me?”

“Yes,” Penny said. “I do. I … I owe you … I’m sorry.”

Ciel’s blue eyes got a little bit bigger, and now, Ciel looked at her full on in the face, although she still kept one hand on her watch. “'Sorry'?” she repeated, her voice soft. “Sorry for what?”

“I … I haven’t treated you and Rainbow Dash … I haven’t always … there are things that I should have understood a lot sooner,” Penny said. “You gave me what I really wanted, even though you weren’t supposed to … and then I asked for even more.”

“I am not certain what you—”

“I think Rainbow Dash should go into the one-on-one round of the tournament,” Penny said, “and I think that you should go with her into the two-on-two.”

Behind Penny, Twilight gasped.

Penny turned around. “I mean, unless you want to be the one to fight alongside Rainbow Dash, Twilight, then maybe you and Ciel should play rock, paper, scissors for who gets the spot.”

Twilight sniggered. “No, Penny, that … I will be glad to leave this whole thing behind me after the four-on-four round is over.”

“You want me to go with Dash?” Ciel asked. “You do not even want to go into the two-on-two round?”

Penny faced her once again. “It’s not just about what I want, is it?”

“Much has been about what you want thus far,” Ciel observed.

“Because that was about me,” Penny insisted. “My self, my choice, my freedom. This … this is about more than me; this is about glory and the school and the kingdom and honour and … and it’s too big to just be about what I want. Even if I wanted to fight, even if I wanted to reach the final … I don’t know if I do, I don’t know what I want, I know what my father wanted very much, but whether it’s what I want or not is something that maybe proves that I don’t want it, at least not that much. Because if I wanted it, then I’d know I want it, wouldn’t I?”

“It … is hard to say for certain,” Ciel murmured. “But that is certainly … a possibility.”

“Do you want it?” Penny asked.

Ciel hesitated. “One hesitates to confess to the sin of ambition, but at the same time, one must be honest about one’s flaws as well as one’s virtues—”

“Is it really a flaw or a sin when the biggest celebration in the world is built around it?” Penny asked. That didn’t make a lot of sense to her.

“Nevertheless, glory is not a thing which should be sought too eagerly,” Ciel replied.

“You haven’t sought it eagerly; you wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t brought it up,” Penny pointed out.

Ciel blinked. “I … yes. Yes, I want it.”

“Why?” Penny asked.

“Does it matter?”

“No,” Penny said, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing, if you don’t mind telling me.”

She wouldn’t have blamed Ciel if she had decided not to tell her, but, after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Because the question of who rises and who … does not in Atlas is not purely determined by merit. Fame grants extra feathers to the wings of those who have it, and helps them to fly higher and more swiftly. One might call it perverse that it is better to be known for what is, in the grand scheme of things, a rather inconsequential thing than for deeds of true consequence, but … I would be known, then when it comes to assignments and postings, commanders will remember me and recall that they liked what they saw of me and re-… and accept my request to join their units or their bases.”

“Then you should do it,” Penny said. “You should go into the two-on-two. You … it would mean more to you than it would to me.”

Ciel’s brow furrowed. “Penny … this is what—”

“This is what I choose,” Penny said, before Ciel could say anything about her being made for this. That didn’t matter. Only what she wanted mattered.

And what she wanted was to make amends a little bit, if she could.

Ciel was silent a moment. “That … thank you, Penny; that is very generous of you.”

“Not really,” Penny said. “Not compared with the generosity that I’ve gotten from you and Rainbow, and you too, Twilight.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, “but you do realise that if we don’t win the first match, all of this becomes extremely academic, and arguably hubristic.”

“You don’t think we’re going to win the first match?” Penny asked.

“Nothing’s guaranteed, is it?”

“I note you waited until Rainbow Dash was not around to hear that before you said it,” Ciel observed archly.

“I…” Twilight stopped. “I have faith in all of you; I just don’t want to make arrogant assumptions.”

Penny’s scroll went off. Ciel’s started buzzing at almost the same time.

“It’s your parents,” Twilight said. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Penny got out her scroll; Ciel did likewise.

“It’s my Dad!”

“It is my mother.”

“Told you,” Twilight said.

Penny looked around; she could see other students already on their scrolls, or else reaching for them as their devices buzzed; they were moving apart from one another, splitting up in this direction or that as so many students received a call from someone or other to congratulate them on being selected to compete.

Penny’s gaze, having flitted across the student body, returned to Ciel. “Well … have fun talking to your family.”

Ciel nodded. “And you also. Give my regards to the good doctor.”

“I will,” Penny said. She looked at Twilight. “I’ll tell him you both said hi.”

“Thanks, Penny,” said Twilight.

There was a moment that wasn’t that quiet, with their scrolls buzzing in their hands, but they were quiet towards one another.

Without another word, they turned away from one another, walking in opposite directions, their eyes upon their scrolls.

With the crowd around her thinning out, Penny answered her scroll.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hello there, darling!” Dad said cheerily, his voice echoing out of the scroll as his face appeared upon it. “I just heard the news. How do you feel about it?”

“It … it’s nice, I suppose,” Penny said. “You know that I was supposed to go into the one-on-one round, if we made it that far?”

Dad pushed his glasses back up his nose. “'Supposed to'?”

“I decided I didn’t want to,” Penny told him. “If Team Rosepetal wins the four-on-four round, I’m going to step back.”

“I see,” Dad said, although Penny couldn’t work out what he saw, unless it was her.

“See what?” she asked.

“What you just told me, I guess,” Dad said. “Why did you decide to do that?”

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

Dad laughed jovially. “Penny,” he said, “I just want to understand a little bit better, not because I’m mad or I mind — whatever you want to do is fine with me — I guess I just want to make sure that it was what you wanted to do.”

“It was,” Penny confirmed. “I … it’s just not that important to me. I already have what I want; being called a champion or getting to fight on TV won’t change that.”

Dad smiled up at her out of the screen, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Hearing you say that makes me prouder than any number of tournament wins you could rack up,” he said. “I can’t promise Japeth will agree with me, but … are you happy, Penny?”

“Yes,” Penny said at once. “Yes, I am.”

“Then as your dad, that’s all I could wish for.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Penny said. She hesitated for a second. “Do you think … what do you think Father will say, when I tell him?”

“You don’t have to tell him right away,” Dad said.

“But he’ll find out eventually, won’t he?” asked Penny.

“I suppose he will, the tournament being on TV and all,” Dad admitted, “and when he does, I suppose you’ll just have to tell him that it’s your choice, not his. But do you want to tell him now?”

Penny shook her head. “Not really.”

“Then leave it for a little while,” Dad said, “Until you feel ready, and up to it. Listen, take care of yourself, darling; I know it’s only a tournament, and only one round, but accidents do happen, so take care.”

“I will, Dad,” Penny replied. “Trust me, everything is going to be great, I promise.”

"Is that your folks calling?"

Ciel looked up to see Neon drifting towards her through the dissipating crowd, nudging other students gently aside with her elbows as they came between her and Ciel.

"Yes, it is," Ciel replied. "I am a little surprised that your mother has not called you to offer her congratulations."

"My mom's at work," Neon reminded her. "She won't find out until she gets home tonight and watches the news."

That was true, and something that Ciel should have remembered. "Your grandmother, then."

Neon shook her head. "At this time of day, Nana will be watching … what day is it, yeah, Bazaar Bargains."

"Even today?" asked Ciel.

"Oh, Nana's not going to miss out just because I might be on the news," Neon said. "She won't miss her daytime TV even to watch my matches. She's obsessed with these programs." She grinned. "Remember that time she gave me two hundred lien and told me to go round all the markets and not come back without a bargain?"

Ciel did remember that; it had seemed such a hopeless cause that agreeing to keep Neon company had seemed the only reasonable thing to do. "As I recall, we had little luck."

"We found that knife," Neon reminded her. "That was pretty cool."

"It turned out to be worth less than you paid for it," Ciel pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was still pretty cool," Neon said. "I still have it. But you're right, we didn't find something that would make our fortunes at auction. And Mom wasn't too happy about the money, either." She paused, then nodded to the insistently buzzing scroll in Ciel's hands. "You should probably answer that."

Ciel did not remind Neon that it was she who had interrupted Ciel before she could answer, and simply pressed the green button to take the call.

"Ciel!" Alain cried as his face appeared on the screen, taking up so much of it that Ciel could scarcely see anything else. "You made it!"

"Good morning, Alain," Ciel said, the slight reproof in her voice clashing with the slight smile upon her face.

Alain made a face that was half smile and half pout. "Good morning, Ciel," he said. "But you did make it, didn't you?"

The smile on Ciel's face widened a little. "Yes, I did," she said, and she simultaneously reached out with her free hand to draw Neon in while moving her scroll so that both of them were in the screen. "And I am not alone in that, either."

Neon grinned as she put one arm around Ciel's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo," she said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm feeling so much better," Alain declared. "They let me out of the hospital and sent me home for a while until my next appointment, but Maman says I have to stay in bed."

"Maman is perfectly correct; you do not want to jeopardise your recovery with rash action," Ciel declared. "Where is Maman?"

The scroll screen moved a little away from Alain, revealing that they were in Alain's bedroom, with Florentin squatting next to his little brother's bed. "She's downstairs making lunch, but she says congratulations and good luck. I suppose good luck to both of you."

"You suppose?" Neon cried. "Highest ingratitude; next time you pick a fight with an angry boyfriend, I'll let you get your nose broken. Hmph! Hmph, I say!"

"I am sure that Florentin has learned his lesson, and there will be no repeat of that incident," Ciel murmured.

"You wouldn't want me to abandon a girl in distress, would you?" Florentin asked. "What would the Lady say to that?"

"The Lady reminds us that the intentions of the foolish man count for nought; his folly will undo him regardless," Ciel declared, asperity and amusement warring in her voice.

Now it was Florentin's turn to pout.

"If you and Neon are both in the tournament," Alain said, "does that mean you'll have to fight each other?"

"Teams from the same academy are not pitted against one another in the first round," Ciel said, "and while it is conceivable that we might be brought together, it is not likely."

"Of course," Neon added in a faux-casual tone, "if we were to be matched against one another, we both know who would win."

"I would," Ciel replied, "because your partner fights with a trumpet, of all things."

"Yeah, and why do you think he gets away with that except because he has a partner like me?"

"How many matches are you going to have?" asked Alain.

"She can't know that; it depends on who wins," Florentin told him.

"That is correct, but I hope for two," Ciel replied.

"'Two'?" asked Neon. "I thought you were going to bow out after the four-on-four?"

"I was," Ciel said, "but now I am not."

Neon frowned. "You and Penny?"

"Rainbow Dash and I," Ciel corrected her.

"Really?" Neon asked. "Okay then."

"What do you mean about dropping out?" asked Alain.

"Oh, right, this is going to be your first tournament, isn't it?" Neon said. "You're going to remember this for the rest of your life, trust me. Now, for this tournament, each team starts with four students, but after they win the first match, two of them drop out, so in your sister's team, only her and her team leader Rainbow Dash will go through and fight in the next match, and when they win that one—"

"If we win," Ciel murmured.

"Whatever, the point is that only one of them will go on and fight in the finals."

"Will that be you?" asked Alain.

"No," Ciel said. "My weapon is not suited for one-on-one combat at close quarters, and those I would be up against are supremely trained and skilled in close combat. I would be overmatched."

"Unlike me," Neon said, raising a fist level with her head. "I'm never unarmed, and I will be going into the finals, so you'll have someone to cheer for all the way through."

Alain giggled. "Everyone seems so excited. Is it going to be amazing?"

"Absolutely amazing," Neon promised. "In years to come, when you're older than your parents, one day, the eightieth Vytal Festival is gonna come around, and you'll be able to bore your grandchildren by telling them how you saw your big sister and her best friend compete in the fortieth Vytal Festival, you've never forgotten." She looked at Ciel, beaming. "Because we're going to make it worth every minute, aren't we?"

Ciel looked at Neon, and then looked down at Alain, his face so excited, positively glowing with excitement.

Thank you, Penny.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I should say we will."

"Miss Schnee?"

Weiss ignored the rather plaintive voice and continued to walk away.

"Miss Schnee!?" the voice called out to her, rather more insistent this time. She could hear footsteps on the stone behind her.

Weiss sighed as she came to a stop. It was not that there was no getting around this — she was fairly sure that she could outrun any journalist — but there was a difference between walking away and pretending that you hadn't heard someone and taking to one's heels, leaving no doubt that you had heard but didn't want to reply.

One was infinitely less dignified than the other.

She was not wearing Myrtenaster, which was a pity, not because she had need of it but because gripping the hilt of her rapier would have given her something to do with one hand as she turned to face her pursuer.

Said pursuer was a woman, blonde, wearing a pink jacket and a pencil skirt that wrapped tightly around her legs; it was rather impressive that she'd been able to run in it. A drone hovered over her shoulder, four small engines glowing with the purple light of the gravity dust they were burning. A single camera lens jutted out of the drone's boxy body; it was pointed straight at Weiss.

"Miss Schnee," the woman repeated. "Cerise Carnelian, ANN; I was wondering if—"

"If you want to ask me about anything other than the upcoming tournament, then my only answer is 'no comment,'" Weiss declared. "I'm not my father, I'm not his publicist, and I'm not a spokesman for the Schnee Dust Company, and I won't be taking questions on matters in Atlas." She paused for a moment. "Now, if there's nothing else—" She began to turn away again, her toes scraping upon the stone of the courtyard.

"Why would you enter this tournament?" Cerise asked, the words leaping out of her mouth as though they were a rope she was flinging out to lasso Weiss before she could get away.

Weiss paused, not turning back but not walking away either. "I was selected, as was the rest of my team," she said. "It's a great honour—"

"An honour which you could have denied," Cerise pointed out. "No team is forced to participate in the Vytal tournament against their well; you have to put your name forward for consideration. So why did you?"

Weiss raised her chin up a little, and still didn't look at the reporter. "I don't see why we shouldn't have."

"Aren't you worried about how people will react to your presence?" asked Cerise. "Aren't you worried about your treatment by the crowd?"

"No," Weiss said at once, and now, she faced Cerise Carnelian. "No, I am not. I'm not worried because I've done nothing wrong, and so anyone who wants to boo me or jeer me or heckle me for no reason shames only themselves; they have no power to make me ashamed. And furthermore, I won't be alone in the arena; I'll be with my teammates, and I wouldn't be a very good team leader if I denied them this opportunity because I'd rather hide under the bed from the opinions of the crowd. For that matter, I wouldn't be very much of a huntress. The crowd may think as they please; they will not dictate my actions."

"Then you don't see this as an attempt to redeem your family name?" asked Cerise.

Thus inviting me to confirm that I see the name as being in need of redemption, Weiss thought. That was something that she was in two minds over: on the one hand, she could not deny the stain that hung over the family and the company by the revelations of what SDC employees had done and what her father, in his ignorance, had tolerated, but at the same time, it irked her that her father — who had not even been born a Schnee but had married into it — was allowed put a seemingly indelible mark upon a name that was not his own, that he had taken from her mother and her grandfather.

"No comment," she said, because whatever she thought about the possibility that the Schnee name might need redemption, she certainly wasn't going to admit the fact in front of some reporter.

"Do you hope to do well in the tournament?" asked Cerise.

"Obviously," Weiss said, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.

"Why?"

"You are familiar with the concept of a tournament?" Weiss responded.

"Do you hope to face either Rainbow Dash or Blake Belladonna in battle?"

"There are no battles in the Vytal Festival; there are matches," Weiss corrected her. "Do I hope to face either of them in a match? I doubt it will happen, especially in Blake's case, but yes, I would welcome it."

"Why?"

"Because they're both very skilled, and I'd relish my chance to test myself against the best," Weiss said sharply. "For all the talk of celebrating peace and unity — ideals to which I subscribe — this is, at the end of the day, a contest, and as a contest, it ought to be challenging. I want to know where I stand relative to my peers."

Cerise smirked slightly. "Isn't that the point of class, Miss Schnee?"

"Perhaps I want the world to know where I stand relative to my peers," Weiss suggested.

"Then you don't want to seek them out for revenge?"

"Revenge for what?" Weiss asked calmly.

Cerise opened her mouth, and then closed. "I … it's not typical for the interviewee to ask questions."

"Is it common for the interviewer to make such loaded statements?" Weiss responded. "What do I have to seek revenge for?"

Cerise was silent for a few seconds. "Tarnishing the name of the SDC," she said, in the end. It was, after all, just about the only thing that she could say.

"Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash are both friends of mine," Weiss said, and kept her voice calm, even if she did allow a little chill to enter into it. "They did something that they can be proud of, and Atlas should be proud of them for doing it, and that's all I have to say on the matter."

Cerise's mouth turned downwards in disappointment, but all she said was, "Thank you for your time, Miss Schnee." And then it was her turn to turn and walk away.

Weiss barely gave her a second glance before she resumed her course. She meant to head … somewhere else, although she wasn't entirely sure why. Somewhere quiet, away from the media circus.

Her scroll rang. Opening it up and checking the caller ID revealed that it was Klein calling her.

Weiss answered immediately. "Klein?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I should hope not, Miss Schnee." The call was voice only, so Weiss was left to imagine his round face, the walrus moustache concealing his upper lip, the bald patina upon his head. "I was merely calling to offer my congratulations upon your having been selected to compete in the tournament."

"You were watching?" Weiss asked, surprised that he'd been given the time off.

"Alas, no, Miss Schnee," Klein said. "I believe that young Master Whitley watched the announcement live — at least, he was when I brought him a macchiato in the sitting room — but my duties meant I had to content myself with listening to the announcement on the radio whilst doing the ironing." He paused. "May I ask how 'Wisteria' is spelt?"

"W-W-S-R," Weiss replied.

There was a moment of silence before Klein said, "Pronouncing that 'Wisteria' sounds like rather a cheat, Miss, I must say."

Weiss laughed. "You may be right, but on the other hand, what kind of a word are you going to make out of Weiss Schnee, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, and Russel Thrush?"

"I'm afraid you might need to let me think about that one, Miss Schnee," Klein admitted.

Weiss chuckled. "So, Whitley knows?"

"I believe so, yes."

"And…" Weiss hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer to this or not. She had an idea already — Klein hadn't mentioned either of her parents watching the announcement with Whitley — but nevertheless, she felt drawn towards the question, if only for the slim possibility that she would be proven wrong. "And my parents? Did they … are they aware that I have been selected?"

There was a moment of silence upon the scroll. "I'm afraid that your mother has taken to bed, Miss Schnee, with a dreadful headache; otherwise—"

"Yes," Weiss said, cutting him off with a voice that had suddenly turned brittle. Mother has gone to bed nursing a hangover, you mean, or else she certainly would have been out in the garden with some more wine out of the cellar and not watching television to see who had been chosen to compete in the Vytal tournament. "Yes, of course she would have. And … my father?"

"Is very busy at the moment, what with everything that is going on," Klein murmured apologetically.

"Yes," Weiss said quietly. "Yes, of course he is."

"But I'm sure that once he learns the news, he will be as proud of you as I am, Miss Schnee," Klein added.

My father will be as proud of me as my butler. It ought to have sounded absurd, or worse, cynical: calculated false compassion from a man who was paid to care about her feelings.

It ought to have, perhaps, but it didn't. It … couldn't, at least not to Weiss. It felt … it warmed her inside, like one of his coffees on an exquisitely cold day.

Though Klein couldn't see it, a smile blossomed upon Weiss' face like a flower opening with the dawn.

"Thank you, Klein," she said. "If your duties don't permit you to watch the matches, I'm afraid that the radio coverage may not be an adequate substitute, but nevertheless, I appreciate your support."

"You're very welcome, Miss Schnee."

“Pyrrha Nikos! Pyrrha Nikos? Arslan Altan, please don’t go anywhere, but can I start with Pyrrha Nikos?”

Pyrrha let out a slight sigh, but not too much of one, because it hadn’t been very difficult to see this coming. And besides, she thought as she walked towards the woman she recognised as Merope Plei of the Mistralian Broadcasting Corporation, there are, perhaps, others here who are going to get a much rougher ride than I am.

She doubted that the reporter who wanted to speak to Rainbow Dash and Blake at the same time was that interested in discussing the Vytal Festival.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said, as she reached Ms. Plei, who had tied her hair back into a more informal ponytail in place of the bun that she had worn the last time they had met, at the Mistralian embassy. Her cameraman also looked different; this one had a beard, although that aside, they were both fulfilling the same function of pointing a camera over Merope’s shoulder and in the direction of Pyrrha’s face.

Pyrrha added, “I thought you did the evening news?”

“I’m also heading up MBC’s coverage of the whole Vytal tournament,” Merope said.

“Congratulations,” Pyrrha said.

Merope smiled. “Thank you. Now, may I ask you a few questions?” She shoved the microphone pre-emptively towards Pyrrha’s face.

Pyrrha put on her practised public relations smile. “Of course!” she said, injecting a note of apparent bonhomie and enthusiasm into it. “That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

So long as she sticks to the usual questions, then this will be over and done with very quickly.

And if she asks any unusual questions, then I can deal with it, just as I did before.

“Excellent,” Merope said. “Pyrrha Nikos, how do you rate your chances in this tournament?”

“Well, I’ll certainly give it my best shot,” Pyrrha said, “but there are a lot of very talented students here competing, and I’m not taking anything for granted.”

She had been asked that question before every tournament since she had returned to defend her championship title for the first time, and she always gave the exact same answer. She was a little surprised that people kept asking.

“Even though you’re a Beacon student, a lot of people will interpret your victory as a victory for Mistral; how do you feel about that?”

That was a new question, but not wholly unexpected, given the context.

“I’m grateful for the support of all my fans,” Pyrrha began, “but I’d like to remind everyone that there are no kingdoms competing in this tournament. Mistral isn’t competing, Vale isn’t competing, Haven Academy is competing, and Beacon Academy, and so, while I am a Mistralian and I will always be a Mistralian, I’m not representing the Kingdom of Mistral in this tournament because no one is.”

“But that’s not what I asked,” Merope said. “I asked how you felt about the fact that people will see your victory as a victory for Mistral, not whether that was accurate or not.”

“Talk about my victory is somewhat premature,” Pyrrha replied. “As for your question … I can’t control what people think; if that is how they want to look at it, then I can’t stop them.”

“But do you approve?”

“I … understand why they would feel that way,” Pyrrha said, and hoped that was diplomatic enough for Merope to take it as an answer and move on.

“Do you regret that you won’t be competing as a Haven student?”

“No,” Pyrrha said at once. “I don’t regret my decision to attend Beacon Academy.”

Merope nodded. “It’s been suggested that if you or a Haven student wins the tournament that you should be honoured with free dinners at the public expense at the Prytaneum; what do you think about that?”

“That would be a great honour, albeit not one that I particularly require,” Pyrrha replied.

“I see,” Merope said. “Thank you, Pyrrha Nikos. Arslan Altan, can I have you over here please?”

Pyrrha smiled graciously, and gratefully, as she stepped away from the camera. Jaune was waiting for her, lingering not too far away, his eyes fixed upon her.

“Thank you for waiting,” she murmured as she slipped her hand into his.

“You weren’t very long,” Jaune pointed out. “I thought it would take longer.”

Pyrrha shook her head, her long ponytail swirling behind her in response to the motion, her hairs tickling her bare shoulders. “These kind of interviews aren’t designed to go in depth, and since they’re essentially fluff pieces, they don’t ask the tough questions. It’s all to get a couple of quotes to splice into the news bulletin for later. If Arslan comes up with something good, they might not even use anything I said.”

“So … not the worst experience you’ve ever had with the press, then?” Jaune asked as they began to walk away, a little aimlessly but mostly ambling in the direction of the docking pads.

“Oh, no, far from it,” Pyrrha replied. “I may not particularly like it, but this kind of thing, I can handle very easily by now.”

“Are you going to tell your mom?” asked Jaune.

“Mother has already been taking my participation for granted,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m not sure what would be changed by confirming it.”

“Yeah, but … it’s a done deal now,” Jaune pointed out. “Excited?”

Pyrrha paused. “Yes, strangely enough.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything strange about it,” Jaune replied. “It’s a big deal.”

“Is it?” asked Pyrrha, looking up at him. “I mean … there is a sense in which Ruby is right, and it doesn’t really make much difference. But at the same time … this is a part of my life ending. A swan song, if you will; is it wrong if I want to bring the curtain down in style?”

“No,” Jaune said. “No, it isn’t wrong at all. It makes perfect sense. And you’re going to do it too.” He bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I believe in you.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I should hope so,” she said teasingly. “Are you going to call your family?”

Jaune’s eyes darted back and forth, and the smile faded off his face. “I, uh … I don’t know about that,” he said. “I mean, it’s not such a big deal for me—”

“That isn’t the impression I got when we were staying with them,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I’ll only be fighting in one round,” Jaune pointed.

“That’s more than many people ever do,” Pyrrha responded. “Jaune … do you not want to call them?”

“Don’t you want to talk to your mom?” asked Jaune.

That was … that felt unfair while at the same time being entirely deserved. “Point taken,” Pyrrha murmured. She leaned closer to Jaune, resting her side against his arm, putting her free hand upon his bicep, squeezing it gently, letting her long red hair drape down his arm. “I know that Sunset is quite right about attending this reception, but I can’t say that I’m particularly looking forward to it.”

“It won’t be bad, will it?” Jaune asked. “It’ll just be stuff that you can handle easily, like that interview.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed. “But I was rather hoping to leave all efforts to commercialise my image behind.”

“Maybe you can donate the proceeds to charity, like you did with the Pumpkin Pete money?” suggested Jaune.

“That … yes, that’s a very good idea.”

“So is that what this is going to be about?” asked Jaune. “Sponsorships?”

“I expect that will be some of it, no doubt,” Pyrrha replied. “There may be other things as well, a chance to meet politicians, prominent figures, business magnates. It will be valuable to have their good opinion, as Sunset suggests.”

“Unless you’re Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, and you can afford to ignore all of that because everyone knows you anyway,” Jaune said teasingly.

Pyrrha chuckled softly. “Yes, well … perhaps even I could do with some contacts. Or perhaps I could help with the introductions for the rest of you.”

“Just because we’re fighting in the shadows for Ozpin,” Jaune said, “doesn’t mean that people in the light can’t help us out. Maybe, anyway. If … if you still want to be involved.”

Pyrrha glanced up at him. “You mean…”

“I mean … you haven’t seemed … I can’t blame you, I mean, I’m not … what he asked of you—”

“Seemed necessary,” Pyrrha whispered.

“That doesn’t make it right,” Jaune said harshly.

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “No, it does not, and I … I doubt that I will ever look at him the same way again, trust him the way that I did, but to walk away from his cause and his service because I do not like the man? No, I could not do that.”

“The way…” Jaune trailed off for a moment. “The way I understand it, in Mistral, in the old days, if a lord treated their retainer like that … then they’d walk.”

Pyrrha blinked. “In Mistral, in the old days?”

Jaune let out a sheepish chuckle. He reached up and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’ve been trying to get to grips with your culture.”

Pyrrha stared at him for a moment, before her mouth formed into an O and a soft sound escaped her lips. “Oh, Jaune, that … that is so sweet of you.”

“Emphasis on the word ‘try,’” Jaune told her. “I don’t know how Sunset finds this stuff so easy, or you, for that matter; I understand every other word I’m reading sometimes—”

“That comes with being brought up with it, I think.”

“And I understand the people even less.”

“That certainly comes with being brought up with those tales,” Pyrrha said, “and with the attitudes that underpin them.” She paused a second, looking away from him, down at their feet as they walked. “But, in answer to your question, perhaps that would have been the reaction in Mistral, in the old days … but the old days are gone, and Cinder is right to say that I am not a figure out of the past, whole and entire.”

“She’s wrong that that’s a bad thing,” Jaune said.

“I think so.”

“I know so,” Jaune said. “I may not understand everything, but I understand that.”

“And I understand that though Professor Ozpin may lead, this struggle, nevertheless, is bigger than him,” Pyrrha said. “It is so much bigger, it takes in Amber and the other maidens and Mistral and the whole of Remnant. I cannot turn away simply because I feel that Professor Ozpin has not treated me as I deserve. I am not my namesake ancestor, to sulk in a tent until my injured pride has been assuaged with flattery — or my sense of injury has been replaced by rage.”

After all, although she did not mention this to Jaune, the decision of Pyrrha of old to forsake the battle had cost her the life of Camilla, her dearest companion. She would not take that risk.

“No,” she said. “I will fight on. But perhaps with a little less deference.”

Jaune nodded. “That sounds fair enough.”

His scroll went off; pressed against him as she was, Pyrrha felt the vibrations making him tremble.

She released him, giving him space to fish his scroll out of one of the pouches on his belt.

He got out the device. “It’s … my mom?”

“Either she has heard the news already,” Pyrrha said, “or she knows that it’s coming and she wants to hear from you what the outcome was.”

Jaune hesitated.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re a Vytal Festival contestant. You have nothing but good news.”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Just … old habits, I guess.”

He answered the scroll.

“Congratulations, Jaune!” the voice of the legion — actually, it was the voice of Jaune’s family, but all speaking together, they achieved rather the same effect — issued out of his scroll.

Pyrrha edged closer, close enough to see Jaune’s mother and his father and as many of his sisters as were present — so no Saphron — and would fit into the frame, all beaming up at Jaune from out of the screen.

“Hey, Pyrrha!” River called as she caught sight of her. She waved excitedly. “Congratulations to you too.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you, very much.”

“This…” Jaune murmured. “Is this about the Vytal Festival?”

“I’m not sure what it’s about,” Aoko said. “I’m happy for you, though.”

“Yes, it’s about the Vytal Festival,” Sky said. “And Aoko, we told you that.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“We all watched the announcement of the competitors live on the new TV that Dad bought,” Rouge explained. “What were you talking about during the ceremony?”

Pyrrha felt herself grow a little colder. “You … you saw that?”

“There was a camera that kept cutting to you,” Rouge explained.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. “Well, it was … one of our Atlas friends had a problem regarding … well, it’s a long story, but they needed some advice.”

“Are they competing as well?” asked Sky. “Are they better than you?”

“Don’t ask that!” River cried. “It’s really rude!”

“It might be important, though,” Sky said.

“Nobody is better than Jaune’s team,” Mister Arc declared. “Isn’t that right, Jaune?”

“But no pressure.” Kendal added.

“The pressure was there already,” Jaune said. “But Dad … you bought a TV?”

“We couldn’t exactly watch you on the oven, could we?” asked Mister Arc.

“Yeah, but…” Jaune trailed off. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks … everyone.”

“I’m just glad you’re fighting in a competition,” said Mrs. Arc, “and not against monsters.”

“Are you excited, Jaune?” asked River.

“I … I am, yeah,” Jaune said, his back straightened. “I’ll make you proud, just watch.”

“Don’t do it for us!” Kendal cried. “Do it for yourself. And have fun!”

They hung up.

Pyrrha chuckled. “You know … we may have gotten off on the wrong foot to begin with, but you have a very nice family.”

“They bought a TV,” Jaune muttered.

Pyrrha blinked. “Jaune?”

“They bought a TV so that they could watch me,” Jaune said. “So that they could watch me. I never thought … I never thought that they’d actually … they never believed in me like that, not ever. I never…”

“They’ve seen that you’re … a very believable person,” Pyrrha told him, taking him by the hands. “Just like I did.”

Jaune looked at her, a smile playing across his face. “'Believable'?”

“Mmm, not quite right, is it?” Pyrrha admitted.

It was the turn of her own scroll to go off, not the continual, verging on incessant buzzing of a call, but the single droning note of a text message.

It was followed by two more buzzing alerts.

Three messages then, and arriving in quick succession.

Pyrrha checked them on her scroll, pulling it out of one of her pouches and opening it up.

“Three people, or one person pushing ‘send’ three times?” Jaune asked.

“Three people,” Pyrrha said, a little amusement in her voice. “From Chariclo, my old nurse—”

“The one who gave you your sash, right?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha nodded. “That’s right. She says…” She trailed off as she actually read what Chariclo had written and decided that she didn’t really want to read it to Jaune. She could feel her own face reddening.

Jaune laughed. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “I … I cannot believe that the little girl whose… that the little girl whose bottom I used to clean is now the great hope of Mistral. I also cannot believe that you would talk during a solemn ceremony; you were raised better than that. But never mind that; nobody’s perfect. I will be watching, and my husband too, and all our hopes and all the gods are with you. You are great. Now show Remnant. Love, Chariclo.”

“Aw, that was nice,” Jaune said. “Apart from the bit about cleaning your bottom, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha said, her face not feeling like it was going to return to its normal colour any time soon.

Jaune laughed again as he enfolded her in his arms, drawing her closer towards him. “Give it time,” he said, “and I’m sure my mom will tell you all sorts about me as a kid too.” He stroked her head and ran his fingers through her hair; she could feel him tugging slightly against her ponytail. “What are the other messages?”

“Um … one is from Chiron, Chariclo’s husband and my tutor. It says ‘Tyche Agathe.’”

“Too-what?”

“Tyche Agathe,” Pyrrha repeated. “It means ‘With good fortune’; it is the words that I had engraved on the honour band that Chiron gave me when my training was complete.” She looked down at her scroll. “The last is from my mother: 'Always be the best, the bravest, and hold your head up high above the others.'”

“The Mistralian words,” Jaune said softly. “The ones that all Mistralians are supposed to live by.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. She looked up at him. “As I said, you have a very nice family.”

He didn’t reply to her.

He didn’t need to.

Everyone else had gone from the statue, but Ruby still sat there, under the muzzle of the snarling beowolf.

Uncle Qrow sat beside her, with Yang sat on the other side of him.

The stone beowolf hovered over all of them, like a less cute version of Fluffy, mouth open to bite, arms poised to strike. But not moving. Not making a sound.

Uncle Qrow plucked the flask out of his pocket and took a swig. Silently, he offered it to Yang.

Yang stared at him. “Seriously?”

“You’re old enough to risk your life fighting monsters, you’re old enough to drink,” Qrow said. “Besides, you are old enough to drink, right?”

“Yeah, I am; I guess I just … you know Dad would kill you if he knew about this, right?”

“I know that he’d try,” Uncle Qrow said, dark laughter in his voice. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“No,” Yang scoffed as she took the flask out of his unresisting hand. She knocked it back, throwing her head backwards and raising the flask upside down for a few seconds, before she hunched over, belly bent. Her face twisted, grimacing with pain, her mouth making all kinds of weird shapes as her eyes fluttered between red and lilac.

“Uncle Qrow!” she shouted. “That’s disgusting! What is that stuff?”

“Kaledonian whisky,” Uncle Qrow said. “Hard stuff, but delicious.”

“You call that delicious?” Yang said. “That was foul.”

Uncle Qrow shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste, I guess.”

“Can I try some?” asked Ruby.

“No,” said Yang and Uncle Qrow at the same time, the former more vehemently than the latter.

“Ruby, you do not want to try that, trust me.”

“You’re a little too young,” Uncle Qrow added.

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said, but there need to be some limits, right?” Uncle Qrow asked. He smiled for a second. “So … you both got in, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, we did.”

Uncle Qrow looked first at Ruby, and then at Yang. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, it does.”

“It means getting to cut loose and have some low-stakes, high action fun,” Yang declared. “It means getting to show what we’ve got with everyone watching. It’s … it’s our exhibition. It’s when we get to show off. It’s when we get recognised. It’s … it’s the time when people pay notice of us when they’re not relying on us to save their lives, and that … that’s special. At least, to me, it is.”

“It’s fun for everyone,” Ruby said. “It’s all it is, but sometimes, that’s all it needs to be, because it’s something we all need. It’s memories that will last a lifetime. It’s important to Pyrrha, and I think to Sunset too, and like Yang said, it’s important. It’s not important in the same way as some other stuff, but it’s still important. Plus, you know, it’s the reason why Penny came to Vale, and Sun, and all the other students from all the other schools, it’s the reason why we made so many friends, and that … I love this festival, and I’m glad that I can be a part of it, along with everyone else.”

Uncle Qrow leaned back a little bit, and nearly fell backwards before he righted himself. “That’s good,” he said. “I was worried you were going to say it didn’t matter to you.”

“That day,” Ruby said, “was one of my best days ever. It’ll never not matter to me.”

Yang chuckled. “I wonder,” she said, “if there are a couple of kids out there somewhere who are going to come and watch the tournament, and in a few years, they’ll be Beacon students remembering how they watched us fight and hoping that they get to make an impression on the next lot of kids.”

“And so on and so on and so on forever?” Ruby asked.

Yang snorted. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda stupid.”

“No,” Ruby said quickly. “No, it doesn’t, not at all; it sounds … it sounds really cool. I hope it’s true. I hope they’re out there somewhere.” She paused and bowed her head. “Plus … I kind of like that we’ve got this break where … we don’t have to … I’m seeing the benefits of it not mattering. A break … a break from…” From soul-wrenching choices.

Uncle Qrow nodded. “Yep, that’s another advantage to it,” he agreed. He sighed. “You know, when I was your age, it was only Tai out of the three of us who knew what the hell the Vytal Festival was. Your mom came from outside the kingdoms, and Raven and I, well … you know.”

“What did you think of it?” asked Yang.

“Raven thought it was stupid at first, but she came to love it,” Qrow replied. “Specifically, she loved the attention, the fame, the glory. When the two of us won our two-on-two round—”

“You two went into the two-on-twos?” Yang asked. “Not Mom or Dad?”

Uncle Qrow shook his head. “Your mom was a great leader, and she could kill grimm like nobody’s business, but when it came to fighting other huntsmen, Raven and I were better than her, and definitely better than your dad. Anyway, after we won that match, with the crowd cheering our names like … it was like thunder, but like water too, waves of thunder, thunderous waves crashing down on us from all sides, and the two of us in the middle of it … Raven looked ten feet tall that day.”

“But she didn’t go through to the finals, did she?” said Ruby. “You did.”

Uncle Qrow snorted. “Well … Raven wasn’t the only one who found the love of the crowd intoxicating. After … let’s just say that I wasn’t always the super cool uncle that you know — back then, I wasn’t always Mister Popular — but in that arena, with Harbinger in my hand, they loved me, and I couldn’t get enough of it.”

Yang grinned. “So, if you both wanted it — and it seems like you did — how did you pick? Just because I’m curious, you understand, and not because I might need it for when me and Nora go to pick which of us gets to make it to the finals.”

“Raven wanted to fight for it, but Summer wouldn’t allow it,” Uncle Qrow explained. “So we settled for arm wrestling.”

“And you won,” Ruby said.

“Yep,” Uncle Qrow said happily. “And I won.”

“And Mom?” asked Ruby. “What did she think about the tournament?”

“She thought it was frivolous, at first, play fighting for entertainment,” Uncle Qrow said. “She went along with it, but I’m not sure how much she ever really got it. She loved the rest of the Festival, though, said she didn’t need to see the world because the world had come to Vale to meet her.”

Ruby smiled. “That … that sounds like a really nice way of putting it.”

“Treasure these moments, kids,” Qrow said. “They’re the days that you’ll remember for the rest of your lives.” He paused. “And kick some Atlesian ass for me, so that I can keep looking Jimmy in the face.”

Ruby snorted. “We’ll try, Uncle Qrow.”

“Try nothing, we’ll do it,” Yang declared. “Just watch, Uncle Qrow. Watch our every step.”

Sunset walked into the dorm room, shutting the door behind her with one hand.

The room was empty apart from her; there was no one here, not even Amber.

That was all to the good, Sunset thought as she got her magical journal out from under the bed — under Amber's bed, now; thankfully, the other girl didn't seem inclined to go prying down here — and set it down upon the desk. It wasn't that she minded having people around to watch her do this, but it was a lot easier when she wasn't going to be disturbed.

Everyone was busy with their own things right now, and this was her thing. She should have done this sooner, really; she had a lot to catch Twilight and Princess Celestia up on.

And something in specific that she could use their advice upon.

Sunset opened the book up to the first blank page. There were not too many blank pages left. If she was going to create a new book for Professor Ozpin, then she would do with making one for herself as well; she wasn't in danger of running out of pages just yet, but it was going to creep up on her if she didn't get to it.

That was still something for the future, however; for the nearer future than the farther, sure, but for the future all the same. For now, she just wanted to talk.

And so, with a blank page before her, Sunset started to write.

Hey, Twilight. I'm sorry that I haven't written for a little while; things have been

Sunset paused, choosing the right word.

busy.

She leaned back in her chair somewhat, her tail flicking backwards and forwards as she waited for a response.

The words began to appear on the page in Twilight's elegant cursive script.

Who are you again?

Sunset snorted, even as she rolled her eyes. I said I was sorry.

Yes, you did, and you maybe didn't even have to do that. If you're busy, then you're busy; it's just one of those things. But, since you're here now, shall I ask Celestia to come over?

Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I want to speak to you as well, but, yes, it would be good if I could speak, or write, to Princess Celestia.

Hold on, I'll just get Spike to send the message.

I'll be here.

There was no response from Twilight. Sunset could imagine her finding Spike and dictating her message to Princess Celestia. The imagining of it, of Twilight prowling the corridors of her castle in search of her assistant, occupied her mind somewhat as she waited. She had some idea of what Twilight's castle looked like from Twilight's description, but that description nevertheless left a great deal to the imagination, and so, in her imagination, Sunset built it, crafting rooms out of nothing, polishing the walls, making the floors sparkle.

A crystal castle.

A living crystal castle.

Only in Equestria could you find such wonders.

Remnant was a fair enough place, some parts of it were more than fair enough, and its people more than fair, but it had nothing to offer in such a comparison. There was too little magic here to sustain a marvel of that sort.

I've sent the message. I'm sure Princess Celestia will be here soon.

Thanks Twilight. So, how have you been recently?

Well, it's probably a good thing that you didn't get in touch before now; things have been rather hectic over here too. I've got a new apprentice.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Really? Who are they?

THer name is Starlight Glimmer

Starlight Glimmer? I know the human version of her; she was a big help to me not so long ago.

Really? She helped?

Sunset's brow furrowed. Yeah, she and Trixie both. She sought for a suitable phrasing. They picked me up when I was down very low.

My Starlight tried to erase me from existence.

Sunset stared at the page, because surely, Twilight hadn't actually just written that.

No, no, she had. Those were the words that Twilight had written.

Come again?

It's a bit of a long story, but to keep it brief, I first met Starlight not long after the incident with Tirek that I've already told you about. She was stealing the cutie marks of other ponies and ruling over them in a village in the middle of nowhere, a village where everyone would be equal and nobody would feel outshone because of the special talents of others — at least, that was how Starlight justified herself. My friends and I defeated her and freed all the other ponies, restoring their cutie marks, but Starlight herself escaped. Then she came after me for revenge, planning to travel back through time and stop me from getting my friends and I from getting our cutie marks.

But time travel beyond seven days from the point of the spell casting isn't possible, and even then, you can hardly keep yourself in the past for more than a couple of minutes.

That was the conventional wisdom, but Starlight had found a lost spell by Starswirl the Bearded that allowed to travel back as far as she liked for as long as she liked. She's incredibly powerful magically, more powerful than me, as I am now, an alicorn.

Sunset swallowed. A unicorn is more powerful than an alicorn? That's not possible.

Why not?

Because alicorns are the elite! They represent the best of ponykind, the strengths of all three races blended together in harmony! Some unicorn can't best them, otherwise, what's the point?

To inspire? To lead? To show other ponies the way forward? Things that required wisdom, patience, charisma, not brute magical strength.

I love the way you just sneakily claimed that you are wise, patient, and charismatic. But I suppose you might have a point. I take it from the fact that we can talk like this that pony Starlight didn't succeed in breaking time, but why did you take her on as your apprentice? How did you even stop her in the first place?

Because I came to understand what was driving Starlight, and I think that, for the first time, consciously, Starlight accepted what was driving Starlight too. Everything else — the hatred of cutie marks, the village — it was all just an attempt to create a world where she wouldn't be abandoned, left out in the cold. Of course, I'm hoping to show her a better way; I truly believe that with her intelligence, drive, and of course, her immense magical power, she will do great things for Equestria if she's given the opportunity.

Just like that? She was your enemy, now she's your friend.

Just like that. What else is there?

Nothing at all, in an ideal world.

Are you discussing Starlight Glimmer, Twilight's new student?

Sunset found herself sitting up a little straighter. Hello, Princess.

It is good to hear from you again, Sunset.

Yes, Princess, I'm sorry for my tardiness. Although Twilight explains that she might not have been in a position to receive my messages lately. What do you think of this new student of hers?

I am proud, and beyond proud, that Twilight has taken this step and started following in my footsteps.

You'll make me blush, Princess.

No concerns?

I trust Twilight's judgement; what concerns should I have?

Sunset smiled, for all that it could not be seen. None, I'm sure, Princess Celestia, none at all. Best of luck then, Twilight, I hope it goes well for you.

Me too. I'm sure that it will go great as soon as Starlight learns not to reach for magic whenever something frustrates her or stands in her way. But what about you? What was keeping you busy while I was battling to maintain the integrity of the timeline?

It worked. I saved Amber. She is awake, and Pyrrha is out to harm's way.

That is wonderful news! I'm sure that Luna will be thrilled to hear it once she wakes up.

I couldn't have done it without her instruction.

What's she like?

The frown returned to Sunset's face. As you might expect from someone who's been through what she has, she is frightened, uncertain, lost in an unfamiliar world.

She is fortunate, then, to have you to guide her, little Sunbeam, someone who has experience in finding this world strange and unfamiliar.

Sunset chuckled. I suppose so. In truth, she has taken to our whole team very easily, for which I am glad. She trusts me, and she is very fond of Pyrrha. She dislikes none of us and has given us all great tokens of her trust. And, as it turns out, she was — before all this — in love with a boy who found his way to Beacon, and we were able to reunite the two of them. Dove, that is his name, has been a balm to her in this time.

It sounds as if everything's going pretty great.

Oh, it is, believe me. There is a lot to like and a lot to be thankful for: Amber is awake, Pyrrha is not in danger of having her self destroyed, and we have even been chosen to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.

Is that something prestigious, or merely something you look forward to?

Something very prestigious. The Vytal Festival is held every two years to celebrate the end of a great war — called the Great War, imaginatively enough — eighty years ago. It celebrates peace and friendship and harmony, I suppose, between the four kingdoms of Remnant, and the tournament between students of the four huntsman academies is the highlight.

Fighting to celebrate peace? Other than that, it doesn't sound half bad, but that feels out of place.

It's a display of prowess and one which shows the change in the world: instead of fighting to the death on battlefield, we fight to the cheers of the crowd in carefully controlled conditions.

I suppose that makes a degree of sense.

What else does this festival involve?

It involves the students from all the other academies coming here to Vale; there's already been theatre, parties; there'll be parades and more parties and a fairground, foreign food. And it will be fun. It will be a lot of fun which, quite frankly, we deserve. Considering it feels like we need a vacation to recover from the vacation that we've just had, a lot of fun is the least that we deserve.

Then I hope you enjoy it, Sunset, and all your friends too.

Thank you, Princess, we will certainly. If there is any fly in the ointment now, and it is but a small fly in the scheme of things, it lies, I fear, with Amber. She does not like Professor Ozpin. She is not alone in that — Pyrrha is none too fond of him either, now, and Jaune is the same.

As harsh as it may be, I can't really blame them for that, can you?

No, I confess, not after what he asked of Pyrrha. No matter how good his reasons, I cannot begrudge an instinctive distaste on her part, or from Jaune. But Amber is

Sunset paused, pondering.

They were close, once. I saw that in Amber's soul, in her memories, when I was saving her, they were Again, Sunset took pause as she considered how best to describe Professor Ozpin's relationship with Amber. They were almost as we were, Princess. Or perhaps, since they did not live together, I should say that they were as you and Princess Twilight are now: teacher and student and bound alike by ties of great affection. Except now, that tie is sundered and the affection turned to dust. Amber casts the blame for all her troubles, those that she has endured and those that surround her still, upon Professor Ozpin. I wish I could bring them back into affection, and yet, I see no way to do so.

Why?

Princess?

Why do you wish it?

Because

She stared at that word, 'because,' that had so much promise ahead of it like a young filly just about to set off into the world, without even her cutie mark discovered.

So much promised to be narrowed down by what came after.

Because I see myself in her, or at least in her relationship with Professor Ozpin, I see us. I think that, if Amber could reconcile with him, it would only be to her benefit, as it benefitted me to reconcile with you.

I am glad to hear it, but that reconciliation was not brought about by Twilight or by the external meddling of anyone else, but by a change in you that made you see things differently.

But Amber doesn't need to change.

Then neither does she need you attempting to force a reconciliation she does not desire; if you attempt it, you will only push her away. Do you believe that Professor Ozpin truly cares for her?

I do.

For what it is worth, I think you are correct in that. And, that being so, I believe that there will come a time when Amber realises that also, or perhaps it is better to say that she will remember it, having forgotten. But you cannot compel her to remember, you cannot force them to be to one another what they were, you could talk Amber's ears off upon Professor Ozpin's virtues, and all you would get for it would be a frustrated Amber less inclined to pay you mind.

You speak wisdom, Princess; indeed, that is why I did not harangue Pyrrha upon reconciling with her mother. I should do nothing, then?

It will come, or it will not, as Amber wills. You cannot bring it on; all you can do is be a friend, and a support to him, as they require.

Your advice makes me impatient, Princess Celestia, even as I recognise it is correct.

Patience is hard, but sometimes, a sad necessity. In the meantime, enjoy your festival with all its fun, and even enjoy your tournament, as baffling as it seems to us looking from the outside. Revel, I beg you, and be joyous while you can. I look forward to hearing all about it from you later.

And, as you say, you all deserve it.

Author's Note

There will be no new chapters for a couple of weeks, as I have to prepare a presentation for a job interview.

Eminent People (New)

Eminent People

“Blake!” Rainbow cried excitedly. “Blake, Blake, Blake!”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Blake said, although a smile played across her face as she said it. She took in the grin splashed across Rainbow’s face, the way that she was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “What are you so excited about?”

“We’re going to be on TV!” Rainbow squeaked, her voice rising to such a high pitch that even Ruby might have asked if she couldn’t go a little bit lower. “This is gonna be so awesome!”

Blake blinked. “We … on TV?”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow said eagerly, as she grabbed Blake by the arm and began to drag her across the great hall. “Come on, there’s somebody that I want to introduce you to.”

“Wait, who?” Blake asked, pulling back against Rainbow’s tugging for a moment.

“I’ll tell you when we get there, come on.”

“There’s no need to manhandle me!”

“Then move!”

The hall of the Lord Mayor’s palace was lit with green, white, blue, and yellow lights hung from the ceiling — which didn’t look particularly good in Blake’s opinion, even if they did deliver the message of the Vytal Festival with all the subtlety of a brick — and Rainbow dragged Blake through pockets of yellow, blue, and green light with a strength that appeared irresistible before Blake gave up and decided to just follow her, meet this person, and find out the answer to this mystery.

Me? On television? Blake wasn’t sure that she wanted that. She was not at all sure that she wanted that. What did it even mean? More interviews, like the one from Miss Khalisa? If so, why was Rainbow so happy about it? Maybe they were going to make a true crime documentary about Calliope Fearny and her conspiracy? That might be valuable, as a reminder of what she had done, but on the other hand … Blake still wasn’t sure that she wanted to be personally involved. If they were going to do that kind of thing, then she would prefer that the focus be on the victims, not on her.

The truth was that Blake had never wanted to be a hero. She hadn’t even particularly wanted to be a leader, although she had led when the situation demanded it. She knew that Sienna Khan had been preparing her for leadership, grooming her to one day assume a position of power and influence in the White Fang, and while it had been nice to have her skills and potential recognised, Blake had also been savvy enough to understand that her name had a great deal to do with it also.

That was one of the reasons — one of many reasons, and not all of them good — why Blake had been willing to stand in Adam’s shadow, letting him take the lead, gain the glory, build his legend. It had been … a more comfortable position for her, one better suited to her temperament.

The shadows, it seemed, were denied to her now, or perhaps it was more true to say that she had denied herself the shadows by her actions, but either way, it seemed that any chance of hiding in Rainbow’s shadow as she had in Adam’s was gone. She was the Warrior Princess of Menagerie, and even if she hadn’t been, she got the feeling that Rainbow Dash, if not pushed her out in front of Rainbow herself, at least dragged her up so that they were standing side by side much as she was dragging Blake now.

Blake hadn’t wanted to be a hero, a symbol, but a degree of what some might call heroism — although Blake would prefer to call it doing the right thing — and she had become one whether she wished it or not.

That didn’t mean that she had to embrace every opportunity to jump into the limelight that came her way.

Especially when she had no idea in what way, sense, or form it was proposed to put her on TV.

She followed Rainbow Dash — which had the advantage of feeling as though she had more say in the matter — across the tiled floor of the hall, towards one of the arch-shaped windows looking out across the central courtyard of the palace. General Ironwood stood there, and with him stood a tall man with a large amount of sandy brown hair worn in a mullet covering the top and sides of his head, as well as a rather extravagant beard that surrounded his mouth and descended over part of his chest, giving him the look almost of some old-fashioned prophet — or at least a cinematic facsimile of the same. He was dressed in a plum-coloured suit and a purple shirt, with no tie — and no socks either that Blake could see, just deck shoes worn over otherwise bare feet.

He was talking to General Ironwood, gesturing with both hands as he spoke in a voice that had more than a little bit of gravel in it.

“—If they’re willing, then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that programmes like yours have the potential to influence public opinion towards Belladonna and Dash on a massive scale,” General Ironwood replied.

“Jimmy, baby—”

“It’s General.”

“General, baby,” the man said without missing a beat. “That’s the whole point! I get the hottest show of the season, and you get half of Atlas believing that your kids are heroes.”

“They are heroes,” General Ironwood said flatly. He glanced at Rainbow Dash and Blake as they approached. “Ah, Dash, you’re back,” he said. “Good evening, Belladonna.”

Blake came to attention. “Sir.”

“So you must be Blake Belladonna, huh?” the man with the mullet said. “You’re even cuter in person.”

General Ironwood cleared his throat loudly. “Belladonna, I don’t know how much Dash told you—”

“Not a lot, sir,” Blake replied, with a slightly reproachful glance in Rainbow’s direction.

“But this is Mister Mockingbird—”

“Call me Funky.”

“He’s a producer with the HUB television network in Atlas,” General Ironwood went on.

“I … see,” Blake murmured. She hesitated for a moment, then held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Mockingbird.”

“Funky, please, Funky,” he insisted, as he took her hand and, bowing, raised it almost, but not quite, as far as his lips. “And it is definitely a pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

“'Miss Belladonna' will be fine, thank you,” Blake said, softly, but with a touch of steel in her voice, as she shot another glance at Rainbow Dash, this one even more reproachful than the last.

This is the person you wanted me to meet?

Now, it was Rainbow’s turn to clear her throat. “Mister Mockingbird — Funky —” she corrected herself before Mister Mockingbird could correct her, “has a proposition for us; he wants—”

“I want to put you on television!” Mister Mockingbird exclaimed. “Well, not you, you, your story. Well, a story, about you two.”

“You … want us to become actors?” Blake asked. Is this really what you were so excited about?

“No,” Rainbow said, “we’re going to be played by actors. Mister — Funky — is going to make a show—”

“The Adventures of Blake, Warrior Princess!” Mister Mockingbird proclaimed. “An original series, only on the HUB! Title subject to change; we’re still workshopping.”

“The lead characters are going to be called Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow went on, “and they’ll be based on us. and the plot … the plot is…” She trailed off.

“This show is going to have a serialised storyline, of course,” Mister Mockingbird declared. “I mean, this is the golden age of television, after all; what kind of show doesn’t have a serialised dramatic arc?”

“I prefer episodic shows,” Rainbow said. “It feels like there’s more space to get to know the characters.”

“Well that’s why we’re gonna do both, sweet cheeks,” Mister Mockingbird assured her. “We’re gonna intersperse the story arc with cases of the week. Trust me, it’s going to be great. I can see it all now: monsters, villains, gunfights, sword fights, every kind of fights that you can imagine, love, betrayal; this story is gonna have it all!”

“It had … a lot of that, I must admit,” Blake murmured. “But … this isn’t going to be based directly on our lives, is it?”

“It will be inspired by you and your adventures, of course, honey; otherwise, we wouldn’t be putting your name on it,” Mister Mockingbird told her. “With necessary licence taken for dramatic effect.”

“I … see,” Blake said, even though she didn’t, not really. She turned away from Mister Mockingbird and faced General Ironwood. “General, what do you think about this?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “You should be aware,” he said, “that once people see fictionalised versions of you, they may not only mistake those fictional versions for the real thing, but at the same time … feel a sense of ownership over your real selves that isn’t warranted by your roles as huntresses. That said, you do have an opportunity to promote not only yourselves, but Atlas Academy and the Atlesian military, which will have a say in production in exchange for our cooperation.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, the usual arrangement,” Mister Mockingbird said. “Wouldn’t dream of altering it.”

“Mmm,” General Ironwood murmured. “Ultimately … the military and the academy can do whatever we can to protect not only the reputations of our institutions, but also your own reputations … but it’s something that has upsides and downsides.” He paused for a moment. “It’s something that you’ll have to decide for yourselves, I can’t make that decision for you.”

“I see,” Blake said calmly. She looked at Rainbow Dash. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Good,” Blake said, and now it was her turn to drag Rainbow away, through the pools of white, green, and blue light, until they were a discrete distance away from Mister Mockingbird and she could hiss at Rainbow Dash without too much fear of being overheard.

“What were you thinking? That’s what you wanted to show me?”

Rainbow frowned. “You don’t seem very happy about this.”

“You think?”

“I don’t get it,” Rainbow said. “What’s not to like?”

“The sleazeball of a producer, for a start,” Blake muttered. “‘You’re even cuter in person’? I feel like I need to wash my hand.”

“Okay, I wouldn’t want to hang out with him,” Rainbow admitted. “But it’s not like we need to see him every day, or ever again; like I said, we’re not going to be acting in his show, it’s just going to be based on us.”

“It’s going to have characters named after us,” Blake corrected her. “Are you really okay with people seeing someone called Rainbow Dash on TV and thinking that that’s you? Thinking that’s who you are?”

“I think it could be kind of cool, yeah,” Rainbow replied. “I think it could even be pretty awesome if they get the show right.”

“And if they don’t?” Blake asked.

“Then the show will get cancelled, and everyone will have forgotten all about it soon enough — if they even watched to begin with,” Rainbow said. “That’s the cool thing about bad shows; nobody even knows they’re on. But a good show, a hit show — and whatever else he is, Mister Mockingbird has put out some hits — our names are going to be everywhere!”

“But it won’t be us,” Blake insisted. “What if I don’t want to give away my name to some fast-talking producer to do with as he wishes, what if I want to keep it for myself?”

“Too late for that; you’ve already given your name away, we both have,” Rainbow informed her. “To all those kids in black and rainbow wigs running up and down Mantle pretending to be Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash.”

“That’s different,” Blake said.

“Only in scale,” Rainbow replied. “Look … I get that you're reserved, but did you really think that you could rise up in Atlas without getting a spotlight shone on you?”

“That…” Blake hesitated for a moment. “That, well, that is different!” she said. “That’s me; I can control what I do! This … what if … what if they write me a love interest who isn’t Sun, or—”

“Are you worried that Sun will think that it’s real?”

“No, I just…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “And why is it only my name in the title and not both of ours?”

Rainbow shrugged. “Because Warrior Princess sounds cool, I guess,” she said. She paused for a moment. “Listen, Rudi Antonio says—”

“You’ve read—”

“Yes, I’ve read Antonio; Twilight gave it to me,” Rainbow said quickly. “As I was saying, Antonio says that we need cultural power, doesn’t he? That we need faunus—”

“In head offices, in the headmaster’s office,” Blake said.

“And on TV and in the movies,” Rainbow added. “We need to be everywhere so much that bigots are crying out ‘not another damn faunus,’ isn’t that what he says?”

Blake nodded. “It’s something like that, yes; I’d have to look up the exact quote.”

“Whatever else this is,” Rainbow said, “however it treats us, this is going to be a show about two faunus kicking ass, saving people, hunting things, and doing it all for Atlesian glory. That’s worthwhile. That’s … that’s hierophancy.”

Blake frowned. “Do you mean hegemony?”

Rainbow hesitated. “Probably, yes. I knew it started with an H. The point I’m trying to make is that stuff like this can help change the world, and it isn’t only me that says so. Really smart people say so too.”

Blake didn’t reply to that immediately, because there wasn’t an immediate pithy response that she could make. After all, Rainbow was right: Rudi Antonio had written about the importance of hegemony, the way in which culture, the media, shaped people’s expectations of what was and wasn’t possible, what was and was not acceptable, and — so he had written — in doing so prevented radical change by convincing the people that it was a mere pipe dream. Blake wasn’t sure that two faunus huntresses on television counted as radical change — after all, there were a lot more than two of them in real life — but Rainbow was also right that faunus in the entertainment industry was a specific example given Antonio himself.

It was all there, in a text so seminal that even Sienna Khan had been forced to acknowledge it, even as she had profoundly disagreed with his conclusions.

And I suppose Rainbow has a point that it was naive of me to expect that I could accomplish anything from the shadows, especially in Atlas.

The lights shine too bright there, and — as with everywhere — they shine brighter still the higher you go.

She still wasn’t filled with immense enthusiasm for the idea, but at the same time, she could feel the walls of her resistance dissolving like sand before the inexorable waves of Rainbow’s arguments.

“I…” she began. “Are we going to be played by real faunus? I don’t want ‘the best actress for the part’ to be a human wearing cat ears—”

“We can insist on them casting actual faunus before we agree to do it,” Rainbow assured her.

“Good,” Blake said. “Good, that … good.” She took a deep breath. “We’re not going to regret this, are we?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “I mean, I hope not.”

“If we do—”

“Then you can blame me,” Rainbow told her.

“Yes,” Blake said. “Yes, I will.”

The Lord Mayor's palace did not look particularly palatial in size: it was only three storeys high — that was by counting the windows, although the ceiling rose significantly above the third row of windows and so possibly it could accommodate more floors than that within — and not that much wider than the ballroom at Beacon, at least Sunset didn't think so. She would not have called it a palace based on its size. But she had to admit that what it lacked in size, it made up for in the grandeur of what little there was; the architecture of the palace was a riot of buttresses jutting out of the grey-brown stone walls; at each corner of the building, there rose a tower with a sharp roof, like the point of a spear, or perhaps, considering all the lumps of stone set to those roofs, like some sort of mace or other bludgeoning weapon. Another tower rose above the high roof, and stone gargoyles mounted on the high places kept watch upon the streets below. The windows were arched, and for the most part very tall, with stonework separating the panes of glass. The wooden doors were set into a great archway of white stone, and around the arch was built something almost like a gatehouse emerging from the palace itself, white against the brown grey, with the coat of arms of the City of Vale — two hippogriffs supporting a shield bearing the image of a crown in one quarter and an axe diagonal to it, the shield surmounted by a helmet with the crest of a gryphon's wing — sat atop the gatehouse, carved in white stone.

Two stone giants, each as large if not taller than the building which they guarded, stood on either side of the gatehouse; they were both armoured in a slightly ornate style, with pteruges hanging from their waists and cuirasses upon their chests and cap-like helmets whose tops curled up above their heads. One bore a spear, the other an axe; they both looked down with open, snarling mouths upon the people down below.

"What … are they?" Penny asked, sounding a little less than impressed by the sight of them.

"That's Gog and Magog," Ruby explained. "Two giants who used to live here, or at least that's how the story goes. The very first king of Vale killed them both and took their land to found this city. The statues commemorate them."

"That doesn't sound very nice," Penny pointed out. "Killing someone to take their land."

"They were man-eating giants," Ruby replied. "Anyway, it's just a story. Someone lived here before the Valish — you can see some of their ruins down in the basement, if you want — but they were long gone before Vale was founded, and they weren't." She paused. "They probably weren't giants."

"Most likely the same people whose relics can be found in the Emerald Forest," Pyrrha murmured.

"Maybe," Ruby said. "But there are two sets of cliffs between there and here, and who knows how many peoples have risen and fallen before the four kingdoms we know came to be?"

"True," Pyrrha acknowledged.

All told, there were eight of them outside the doors: Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Yang, Nora, and Ren. Blake was in there already, with the Rosepetals.

The invitations they had all received on their scrolls after their teams had been announced as Vytal Festival competitors had stated the dress code as school uniforms or combat attire if presentable. That was a little disappointing — moreso for some than for others, admittedly — but, Sunset supposed, understandable enough: they were, in a sense, being honoured as contestants in the tournament, and so, they were expected to look the part. Pyrrha, Ruby, and Penny had gone down the combat attired route, as had Ren and Nora; Sunset, Jaune, and Yang wore their Beacon uniforms.

Sunset felt that Nora might have done better to have worn the school uniform as well but kept that to herself.

"We should probably go in, right?" Yang asked.

"Or we could not go in and go somewhere actually fun instead?" suggested Nora eagerly.

"No," Sunset said.

"Sunset's right," Yang said. "This … we might not enjoy ourselves, but we'll get the benefit for years to come. Hopefully."

"But what do we do once we get inside?" asked Penny, her voice trembling slightly.

"Mingle, in a word," Sunset said.

"Ah, okay," Penny said. She paused. "How do you do that?"

Sunset put one arm around Penny's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Penny. Stick with me; I'll show you how it's done."

"Because you have so much experience with this," Yang muttered.

"Yes, I do, as it happens," Sunset replied proudly.

As it happened, her experience was more with … being mingled with than mingling, if that made sense; she had spent many nights stood at Princess Celestia's side at this reception or that soirée — if she'd been lucky, there had been a concert or something beforehand — and she had watched countless obsequious and, in Sunset's opinion, quite unworthy ponies line up to kiss the hoof of Princess Celestia and seek special access to the princess through currying favour with her favourite student.

Sunset had taken a rather proud and haughty line with them at the time, disdaining to sully her relationship with Princess Celestia with anything so base as trying to wheedle favours for other ponies out of her; it was something that Sunset regretted somewhat now. Not the disdaining to sully her relationship part — that, she did not regret at all — but she probably hadn't had to be so harsh in her rebuke of anyone who tried to reach the princess through her.

I took a torch to all my bridges, but not before I'd doused them in oil.

Not that they would have helped me much, but still…

The point was that she knew a little about how to approach eminent people. She'd even done some of it herself, if only under great duress at Princess Celestia's urging.

She knew enough to help Penny navigate this first step into a new world.

"Don't be daunted, Penny," Pyrrha said. "Or anyone else for that matter, although it may seem daunting. Remember that we're the stars of the show tonight. Everyone is here for us, or for our competitors, friends, rivals; as much as you might imagine everyone standing aloof, waiting to be approached, they're far more likely to come to us."

"Is that why you were standing alone at that reception in Mistral?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha paused, her mouth open. A little nervous laugh escaped her lips. "That's … none of us are so well known here in Vale for familiarity to have bred that kind of … it will be different," she declared. "I promise."

“Besides,” Yang added, “we’ve faced grimm hordes; compared to that, this is nothing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ruby muttered.

Yang laughed. “It’ll be fine,” she assured her. “Come on, let’s go.”

They headed inside, the frontage of their little group narrowing as they advanced up the steps towards the gatehouse and the wooden door which, however wide it might be, was not quite wide enough for all eight of them to walk through in line abreast.

There were two men upon the door: one older and stouter, with round spectacles upon his fleshy face; the other younger and leaner, bouncing impatiently upon the balls of his feet. Both were dressed in red jackets and matching waistcoats over white shirts and black ties; the older fellow wore a top hat, although the younger did not. Both held squat black scanners in their hands.

“Can I check your scrolls please, ladies and gents?” the younger man said, holding up his scanner. “Just need to check your invitations.”

Sunset got out her scroll — Penny did likewise, as did everyone else — and found her invitation to the event, holding it out to the younger man, who flashed his scanner over the QR code embedded in the invitation. There was a beeping sound, and Sunset caught sight of her own name and face appearing briefly on the scanner.

“Thank you very much; head right on inside and have a good evening,” the younger man said as he proceeded to scan Penny’s scroll.

Sunset waited for Penny, and for the others, as they all got their invitations scanned.

“Well, what do you know, I think I left my scroll back at Beacon!” Nora exclaimed. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just have to—”

“I have your scroll here,” Ren said, holding it out to get scanned. “I picked it up from where you left it on the bed.”

Nora pouted and made a wordless sound that was almost, but not quite, a growl, but said nothing.

“Have a good evening, folks,” the older man said, and the fact that he was saying it to Pyrrha after he scanned her invitation didn’t make it any less apposite.

Inside, Sunset found the floor was stone beneath her feet, grey flagstones, occasionally painted with this or that coat of arms — a black cross on white here, a blue shield with gold fleur de lis there — painted on them, along with names like de Belleme and Clito that she did not recognise but possibly would have if she’d been better versed in Valish history.

On the left, there was a set of stairs leading downwards, and a sign indicating that way to the crypt and the ruins, but it was cut off by a red velvet rope. The way forward was open, and so Sunset and the others went that way, down the stone corridor until they entered into a high, cavernous hall, the vaulted ceiling set so high above them that those stone giants on guard without could almost have fit inside.

The stone walls were partially obscured by wall hangings, the banners of Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade hanging in order down between the windows. Coloured lights hanging from the ceiling cast the chamber in shades of white, blue, green, and yellow, which … Sunset could see what they were going for, but it did give the hall something of the air of a disco.

A string quartet sat in the corner of the room, playing soft, soothing mingling music, while wait staff in black waistcoats and trousers mingled as assiduously as the guests, bearing trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of sparkling wine and orange juice.

It seemed as though the Beacon students were amongst the last to arrive, because Sunset could already see the Rosepetals in their Atlas uniforms, Blake in her black and white huntress attire, Trixie Lulamoon in her starry cape, and Arslan Altan, who had bent the dress code just a tad by wearing a robe with two sleeves instead of the one that Sunset saw her in most often.

And, of course, the guests — or perhaps if one took the view that the students were the guests, then one might call them the dignitaries — of whom Sunset recognised Professor Goodwitch, First Councillor Emerald and Bramble, Skystar Aris — that was bound to be awkward for Cardin — General Ironwood, and … a lot of other people Sunset didn’t recognise.

Penny isn’t the only one who needs to do some mingling.

“Penny,” Sunset said, “how would you like me to introduce you to the First Councillor of Vale?”

“Um—”

“Come on, Penny; it’s the First Councillor,” Sunset insisted. “And while there is a risk he might be gone soon, and his polling ratings were bathypelagic when he took office, things seem to be going up for him now.”

At least his party’s polling was going up, to the point where it was now merely submerged and reaching out towards the surface, and the news sites were full of praise for his ‘competent, managerial’ style of government, ‘a welcome change from the chaos of the past year’; Sunset felt that was both a little unfair to Councillor Aris, who hadn’t done anything to cause the chaos of the last year, and a little over generous to Councillor Emerald, who had benefited from events without doing anything to influence them.

But that, she supposed, was politics. And she had to admit that Councillor Emerald had been dealt a rough hand — and she had better admit that she was the one who had shuffled the cards — and he had played them about as well as could be expected.

All of which was somewhat beside the point in any event; the real point was that it would do no harm for Penny to meet him, and it might do Penny a lot of good.

"Let me introduce you," Sunset said, guiding Penny forwards across the stone floor.

"Okay," Penny said. She paused. "What's he going to do when he's not First Councillor anymore?"

"That…" Sunset trailed off. "That's a good question to which I don't actually know the answer." Obviously, that wasn't an issue in Equestria, and she hadn't really paid much attention to what Atlesian councillors did when they left office. "Don't ask him that, though; it might seem like an insult."

"Oh, right."

Councillor Emerald was wearing a dark suit, with his emerald green tie the only splash of colour on his outfit; he was half-turned away from Sunset and Penny as they approached, talking to an avian faunus in a Valish military uniform. Bramble Emerald, wearing a chocolate-brown t-shirt that matched his eyes, fidgeted beside him, looking a little bored.

Probably for that reason, it was Bramble who noticed the two of them first, his eyes lighting up even as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "Sunset! Sunset Shimmer!"

Sunset smiled as she knelt down in front of him, one elbow resting on her knee. "Young Master Emerald," she said, "what a pleasure it is to meet you again. And how are you this evening?"

"A little bored," Bramble admitted.

"'Bored'?" Sunset cried in mock, exaggerated, theatrical — even more theatrical than usual — shock. "'Bored,' when there are so many awesome huntsmen and huntresses around here for you to meet?" She leaned forwards. "Some of them are even faunus. Get to know them, and you might have other playground options. How … you know, hold that thought; where are my manners? Master Emerald, meet my friend Penny Polendina; she's going to be competing in the tournament as well; Penny, this is Bramble Emerald, son of the First Councillor."

Penny beamed; rather than kneeling down as Sunset did to get on Bramble's level, she picked him with both hands so that he was on her level as she held him up above the floor. "It's nice to meet you, Bramble Emerald!"

Bramble looked down at the gap between his feet and the floor, and then at Penny's smiling face. "You're funny."

Penny's eyes closed as her smile widened, and she cocked her head slightly to one side. "Oh, thank you!"

Bramble laughed. "It's nice to meet you, Penny. Are you a faunus too?"

Penny's face fell a little. "No," she said. "No, I'm not; I—"

"But you don't have to be a faunus to be really cool," Sunset said. "Or brave or admirable." She put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "Or feel different from the people around you."

"Quite right," Councillor Emerald declared, crossing the not too great distance between them, his Valish officer following silently behind him. "Go too far down that road, and … well, best not." He cleared his throat as he looked down upon Sunset, and seemed to look even further down upon her by virtue of the majestic antlers that spread out on either side of his head and added an extra foot or two to his already considerable height. "Miss Shimmer."

Sunset curtsied. "Mister Councillor," she said, "allow me to introduce my friend Penny Polendina, who will be attending Beacon Academy from next year."

Penny opened her mouth, then stopped as she remembered that she was still holding onto Bramble Emerald. She put him down, gently, then straightened up and held out one hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

Councillor Emerald chuckled lightly as he took her hand gently, holding onto her fingers rather than her palm. "A pleasure, I'm sure, Miss Polendina. If you will not be a Beacon student until next year, then—"

"She's from Atlas," Bramble supplied. "Team Rosepetal: Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle."

Councillor Emerald raised his eyebrows. "If my son put half as much care and attention into his homework as he did into all things huntsman- and Vytal-related, he would be the top of his class, I'm sure."

Bramble pouted. "It's boring," he complained.

"And sprouts taste foul, but they are good for you nonetheless," Councillor Emerald replied. "Homework is boring, but you won't get into a good school with a knowledge of huntsman-related trivia."

Bramble mumbled something that Sunset couldn't make out, before he said, "Do you have to do maths at your school?"

"Uh … no, not at Beacon," Sunset admitted. As Councillor Emerald's face assumed a thunderous aspect, she quickly added, "But I was brought up by someone who, like your father, was a great believer in the virtues of education. I wasn't allowed to study any of the cool stuff until I had all the boring basics down and could calculate square roots in my head."

"Ninety two," said Penny.

"Nine point five nine one six six to five decimal places," Sunset said without missing a beat.

"You're supposed to be on my side," Bramble complained.

"We're all on your side," Councillor Emerald said. "You're just too young to realise it at the moment." To Penny, he said, "So, Miss Polendina? You are an Atlas student, and you wish to transfer schools?"

"Yes, sir," Penny said. "And I will; all my papers have been submitted and approved."

"I'm glad to hear it," Councillor Emerald said. "It's rare but good to meet an Atlesian who doesn't automatically assume that their own kingdom is the best at everything." He paused and glanced away for a moment, a frown crinkling his brow. "The … recent ugly sentiments expressed towards Atlas and Atlesians in some parts of Vale didn't put you off, then?"

"Nothing like that has happened to me, sir," Penny said. "I … had to go home for some … treatment after the semester ended, so I only got back to Vale pretty recently."

"But you want to study at Beacon nonetheless."

"Yes, sir," Penny said. "I do."

"Why, if I may ask?"

"Um … because I think I'd prefer it," Penny said. "Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Councillor Emerald admitted. "This kingdom needs all the huntsmen and huntresses that it can get; I'm sure you'll be a fine addition to Beacon's ranks, Miss Polendina, and I hope you'll be very happy there."

"I'm sure I will, sir, thank you," Penny said. "And I … I'm at your service."

Councillor Emerald's eyebrows rose, and stayed that way for a moment, before the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a slight smile. "Indeed, Miss Polendina? That is very kind of you; I shall let you know if I require your services." He actually sounded as though he meant it.

"Miss Polendina," the Valish officer standing behind Councillor Emerald said, taking a step forward to accompany his interjection. "Colonel Sky Beak Aris, Mount Aris Light Dragoons, presently the liaison officer with the Atlesian forces."

Penny started to salute, then stopped herself. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Perhaps, as an Atlas student transferring to Beacon, you might have an opinion—"

"You don't need to canvas the opinion of the student body, Sky Beak," Councillor Emerald muttered.

"Of a notion that I've been toying with over the last few weeks," Colonel Aris went on, heedless of the First Councillor, "something that I think the Council should take into active consideration."

"The public won't wear it," Councillor Emerald insisted. "The principle of voluntarism is too well-established to be cast aside so quickly."

"Even in circumstances like this?" asked Colonel Aris.

"What are you talking about?" asked Penny.

"A Valish Corps of Specialists, on the Atlesian model, to support our defence forces," Colonel Aris explained. "Beacon students funnelled into the Valish Defence Force and used to spearhead military operations without the need to rely on the mercurial inclinations of individual huntsmen and huntresses."

"I don't know what Miss Polendina might have to say about that," Professor Goodwitch said as she stalked over, her high-heels tapping on the stone, "but I know that Professor Ozpin would not approve of anything of the sort."

"Surely, the changing times require at least a willingness to consider changing one's mind in turn?" asked Colonel Aris.

"That depends on what you are asking us to change our minds to," replied Professor Goodwitch. "Funnelling students? Are you talking about mandatory conscription, or simply the use of incredibly heavy-handed pressure to join the military such as Atlas applies to its students? I must confess, neither option thrills me. The independence of Beacon Academy, and of the huntsman system, is well established."

"Just because something is well established doesn't mean that it works," Colonel Aris insisted. "Just because something has been done doesn't mean that it is the best way; the Atlesians have the ability to respond much more swiftly to situations that require huntsmen because the huntsmen are under the control of a central authority—"

"With all due respect, Colonel," Sunset murmured, "I think for some students, that might be the problem." She looked around for Ruby, spotting her and Yang having just drifted away from … someone. "Hey, Ruby!" she called out, gesturing with one hand. "Come over here a second."

Ruby came, with Yang following on behind her.

"Mister Councillor, Colonel, Master Emerald," Sunset said, "allow me to introduce my teammate Ruby Rose and her sister Yang Xiao Long; Ruby, Yang, this is First Councillor Emerald, Colonel Aris of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons, and Councillor Emerald's son Bramble, who is a big fan of huntsmen and huntresses."

"Is that right?" Yang asked, grinning as he put her hands on her hip and bent at the waist, her long blonde hair falling down over her shoulder as she descended closer to Bramble. "You must be looking forward to the tournament then, huh, kid?"

Bramble nodded eagerly. "It's going to be brilliant, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's going to be better than brilliant," Yang promised. "It's gonna be awesome!"

"Ahem," Councillor Emerald cleared his throat.

Yang laughed nervously as she straightened up, but said nothing.

"What can we do for you?" asked Ruby.

"Colonel Aris here," Professor Goodwitch said, disapproval dripping from her voice, "believes that Beacon students should be forced or strongly encouraged to join the Valish military, in a specialist branch emulating the Atlesians."

"What? No," Ruby said at once, "that's a terrible idea."

"Yeah," Yang agreed. "Yeah, it is."

"You both sound very certain of that," Colonel Aris pointed out.

"Because we are," Yang said simply.

"Why should we trust your judgement on where to go and where to fight over our own?" asked Ruby. "Why should we let you make the decisions for us? That … that's the big question; that's the only question. That's all there is to it; I just don't think that you should."

"You don't consider that someone older, more experienced, might know better than you on who needs protection, what battles need fighting?" asked Colonel Aris.

"According to you," Yang said. "I won't speak for Ruby, but I'll say this: I don't live in Vale, I live in Patch, where there aren't always enough huntsmen or huntresses, because the places that need them can't always afford them, and because the Council doesn't care. And the Council still wouldn't care if the military had control over the huntsmen and huntresses; you'd keep them all in the cities where most of your voters live, and you'd ignore Patch and the outlying villages because they don't get you elected."

"A remarkably cynical attitude, Miss Xiao Long, I must say," Councillor Emerald murmured.

Yang shrugged. "But am I wrong, Mister Councillor?"

"Considering that the Council has been paying for huntsmen to protect the outlying villages for more than half a year now, I would say that some charity might not go amiss, if not some gratitude," Councillor Emerald replied. He paused. "And yet, I doubt that you're saying what many others would not also say. Another reason, Sky Beak, why this will not work: the people will never trust a state-run system to be as responsive to their needs as the current private system."

"It's about freedom," Ruby said, "the freedom to ask for help and the freedom to give it without having to get permission first." She paused. "But, that's not to say that things are perfect right now."

"You have criticisms, Miss Rose?" Professor Goodwitch asked, eyebrows rising above her half-moon spectacles.

"Well … not exactly, but…" Ruby hesitated for a second. "Like, take Sunset and Yang. Say that they were both huntresses, looking at the job board. Someone's put a job up there for three hundred lien, and someone else put a job up there for one hundred lien because its all the kingdom will pay out for that type of job, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t urgent for the person who requested it.

“Sunset takes the first job, and that means she gets three hundred lien—"

"Before tax," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"But Yang only gets a hundred lien when she takes the second job. And maybe she needs to get her bike fixed, or … get her hair done, or—"

"Are you groping for the financial responsibilities of adult life, Miss Rose?" Councillor Emerald suggested.

"I'm saying that maybe that hundred lien isn't enough to live on," Ruby said. "So … yeah, I guess so. What I'm trying to say is maybe Yang doesn't take that job because she can't live on the money, and there are other jobs that pay better. But then who comes to help the person whose job only pays a hundred lien?"

"A valid question," Councillor Emerald said. "You have an answer?"

"Well," Ruby said, scratching the side of her nose for a moment, "what if Sunset and Yang worked together? They didn't work together like go on the same jobs, but when Sunset took the first job and Yang took the second job, they both put the money in a pot and then split it equally between them so that they both had two hundred lien—"

"And that is why you need to study maths," Councillor Emerald said to his son out of the corner of his mouth.

"And there'd be no reason why they couldn't take the low paying jobs as well as the high paying ones, because it would all even out," Ruby said, "and the more people you got together, sharing the fees they got like that, the more money everyone would have—"

"Possibly," Councillor Emerald said, "in your hypothetical example, if Miss Polendina were to go into this business with Miss Shimmer and Miss Xiao Long, she would have to earn at least two hundred lien to compensate the other two for the reduced amount they would receive from their initial four hundred lien now divided three ways instead of two."

"Okay," Ruby admitted. "Yeah, you might be right about that, but it's still better than a hundred lien for a huntress taking that job all by herself. It would mean less chance that people would just be left behind because their jobs don’t pay enough to make it … huntsmen and huntresses could do the jobs like that and not worry because they'd have that, like a safety net underneath them."

It would help out those who work for Ozpin too, since they don’t get paid for it, Sunset said. Ruby would never be so cynical as to suggest it out of her own self-interest, but nevertheless, it would do no harm.

“It could also encourage some members of this collective not to pull their weight and rely on the rest of the group to support them,” Professor Goodwitch said. “One of the reasons the system is set up as it currently is is so that all huntsmen and huntresses must work hard and strive for excellence.”

“I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t do that anyway, Professor,” Ruby replied. “Can you?”

Once again, Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses back up her face. “… No, Miss Rose, I cannot.”

“And besides,” Ruby added, “If it meant that people didn’t have to worry that no huntsman would show up for what they could pay, I think it would be worth it.”

“It sounds all well and good, I must say,” Councillor Emerald replied, “but it also sounds entirely like something that huntsmen and huntresses would have to decide for themselves, how to apportion the profits, how to organise; I take it the lack of role envisaged for the Council or the Kingdom was quite intentional?”

“Yes, sir,” Ruby said, nodding her head. “I think … I wouldn’t want to give up my freedom to act, and I don’t think I’m the only one.”

Councillor Emerald nodded. “And Miss Polendina, our soon-to-be Atlas transplant, what say you?”

“I don’t really want to join the Valish military any more than the Atlesian one,” Penny said, “but Ruby’s idea makes a lot of sense.”

“Indeed,” Councillor Emerald murmured. “Well, Sky Beak, the students don’t want it, and the public won’t want it—”

“The public haven’t been asked,” Colonel Aris replied. “Although I accept the fact that student resistance is an issue. None of you can see any advantage to it at all? None of you?”

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of takers for it amongst the Atlas students, sir,” Sunset said softly, “but we’re not Atlas students.”

“No,” Colonel Aris muttered. “No, you’re not, are you?”

“We will continue to provide Vale with a strong defence, supported when necessary by huntsmen and huntresses,” Councillor Emerald declared. “That will have to suffice, as it has done. And frankly, the last thing we need is reckless innovations disturbing the public just as things are getting back to normal. Remember, Colonel; you’re there to watch the Altesians, not to become one of them.”

Colonel Aris coughed. “Yes, First Councillor.”

“And now, if you’ll excuse me,” Councillor Emerald said, taking his son by the hand. “Miss Polendina, Miss Xiao Long, Miss Rose … Miss Shimmer.” His voice dropped when he got to her name. He gave a nod in their direction and turned away, leading Bramble off in the direction of another part of the room. Colonel Aris followed after him.

Professor Goodwitch stayed but a moment longer before she murmured, “Children,” and also left them to it, heading off towards a different part of the cavernous-ceilinged hall.

Sunset looked at Ruby. “So,” she said, “how long have you been keeping that idea under your hood?”

“Well … I thought about what you said about how the more people started working together, the more someone would have to be in charge and everyone else would lose their freedom,” Ruby said. “So I thought about ways that no one would be in charge, and I thought about people … working together but not working together; they’d cooperate, but they’re not a unit or anything.”

“And the working together?” Sunset asked. “The cooperation, for when numbers are required?”

“That’ll happen anyway, if it needs to,” Ruby said. “I mean, it did after Mountain Glenn fell, right? People will come together, if they need to.”

“Yeah, you’d need a heart of stone not to in those circumstances,” Yang agreed. “I mean, your idea wouldn’t suit me — it kind of seems like it relies on everyone staying in more or less the same place so they can pool their money, apart from anything else — but it doesn’t seem like it could hurt.”

“It seems like a pretty good idea,” said an unfamiliar, rather calm and deadpan voice.

A voice that was coming from right behind them.

Everyone flinched a little bit as they turned around, to see that they had been stolen upon by someone as tall as Professor Goodwitch and brawnier in the arms, armoured in the Mistralian style with a black linothorax cuirass and pteruges protected her torso and thighs, iron vambraces upon her forearms, and iron greaves and cuisses covering her legs. The greaves, the cuisses, the vambraces were all adorned with stars — stars embossed upon the metal — and set with little gemstones that sparkled under the multi-coloured lights.

Or were they all gemstones? Sunset thought that actually some of them might be dust crystals; the purple stones set on her wrists, for example, might be gravity dust.

Gravity, lightning, fire; decorative and functional.

Like Pyrrha, she wore a band of gold around her left arm. Unlike Pyrrha, there was no decoration upon the band; it was just a simple band of plain unvarnished gold, standing out against the lesser metal of her armour.

The woman’s hair was a brownish blonde, the colour of honey, and tied back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, that looked down upon them all, were a similar golden brown.

“Hello,” said Penny, with a wave of one hand.

“Down here,” said the voice, although the Mistralian woman’s mouth did not move.

Their eyes travelled downwards — quite far down, as far as the big woman’s waist and a little further — to where a child stood in front of her, wearing a crinkled blue tracksuit, bottom and top, and a pair of blue and white trainers on her feet. Her hair was light brown, cut in a bob that framed her face, although her bangs were half-hidden behind the large pair of goggles that she was wearing over her forehead, just above her stone-grey eyes and the pair of rimless glasses that she wore over them. She was holding a bright lollipop in one hand, that glistened in such a way as to suggest that she’d already been licking it.

“Oh,” Penny said. “H—”

“Please don’t pick me up like you did Bramble Emerald,” the little girl said. “It would be very bad for my dignity.”

“Uh…” Yang murmured. “Hey, there, kid; how did you get in here?”

“I’m an invited guest,” the girl said. “I’m Iona Rockshaw, the CEO of Starhead Industries. This is Antiope, my assistant.”

“I’m your bodyguard,” Antiope murmured.

Sunset blinked. “You … you’re the CEO of Starhead Industries?”

“The company that makes the circus robots?” Ruby asked.

“What’s the point of being the boss if you can’t greenlight the occasional fun project like a robot circus, right?” Iona asked as she stuck her lollipop back in her mouth.

“I guess you’ve got a point there,” Yang admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “You’re the CEO?”

Iona took the lollipop out of her mouth. “Didn’t I already tell you that?”

“Yeah, but … how old you are?” Sunset demanded. “Eight?”

“I’m eleven,” Iona said, with just a touch of pique entering her voice.

“That still seems very young to be running a company,” Penny said.

“I inherited it from my father,” Iona said. “He had a tragic accident with a robotic elephant. An army of lawyers assure me it’s fine for me to take over the company. Anyone who disagrees is free to take it up with them.”

“No, no, I’m sure that’s fine,” Ruby said. She paused for a moment. “Those circus robots really were cool. I suppose you just told someone that’s what you wanted—”

“No, I designed them myself,” Iona said. She smiled, if only a little bit. “The truth is, I much prefer getting into the guts and the programming of a robot than I do signing … business stuff. I do that because I have to … and because I don’t trust people not to steal my company, but I prefer to design and build the robots. Robots … are much easier than people. You can understand them perfectly. You connect their circuits in just the right way, you put the code in just the right way, and you can make them do anything, and they always do just what you want them to.”

“Apart from the one that killed your father,” Sunset muttered.

“Right, that,” Iona murmured. “Well, maybe not that one.” The smile remained upon her face as she put the lollipop back in her mouth.

Sunset found herself taking a step backwards.

“Yeah, I get it,” Ruby said, seemingly oblivious to the implications of what Iona had just said. “Machines are cool that way, they make sense, there are no—”

“Hidden meanings behind what they say?” Sunset suggested.

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Sooooooo,” Yang said, drawing out the word, “it’s nice to meet you Miss Boss Girl, I’m—”

“Yang Xiao Long, Penny Polendina, Ruby Rose, Sunset Shimmer,” Iona said. “I studied all of your files before coming here, obviously.”

“'Obviously'?” Sunset repeated.

“Antiope,” Iona said, “what’s the one valuable lesson my father taught me?”

“Always do your research before you invest, Miss Iona,” Antiope said.

Iona nodded as she sucked on her lollipop for a few more seconds, the straw shifting across her mouth, first to the left and then back to the right again. She pulled it out of said mouth and then pointed the diminished, still glistening red lollipop at Ruby. “You.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Iona nodded. She pointed the lollipop at Yang. “You don’t interest me.” She pointed it at Sunset. “Nor do you.” She pointed it at Penny. “You’re … very cool, but not in that way.” She pointed the lollipop at Ruby once again. “But you… I’ll pay you a hundred thousand lien to come and work for me.”

“What?” Ruby said flatly.

“What?!” Yang cried.

“Huh?” Penny said. “What just happened? I’m confused.”

“You’re not the only one,” Sunset said.

“It’s simple,” Iona said. “I’ll pay you a hundred thousand lien, and you drop out of school and come and work for Starhead Industries.”

“Doing what?” Sunset asked.

Iona shrugged. “Whatever I ask you to,” she said. “Of course, I’ll pay you a salary on top of your starting bonus.”

Ruby’s mouth hung open, the same way that Ruby seemed to hang with her shoulders bent forwards, like she might flop down face-first onto the stone floor. “Wh—… why…?” She stopped. She took a step forward as she shook her head. “That’s really generous, but … no. I’m sorry, I’m not looking for a corporate job, not even for a hundred thousand lien. I … I need to do what I think is right, not what you want. I hope you find someone, but that someone isn’t me.”

“Yes,” Iona said. “Yes, it is. Because you just passed your interview.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “But I—”

“If you were the kind of person who’d take my money to run errands for me, you wouldn’t be the kind of person I was looking for,” Iona said.

Ruby blinked rapidly. “I … I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

Iona was quiet for a moment. “My … my brother wanted to be a huntsman,” she said.

“Miss Iona, you don’t need to tell them this,” Antiope murmured.

“Yes,” Iona said. “Yes, I do.” She looked down at the lollipop in her hand. “Coll … wanted to help people. He wanted to help the world. But he never got the chance.”

Ruby held out a hand towards her, reaching out gingerly, not quite touching the other girl. “What … happened to him?”

“The White Fang,” Iona said. She was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to become a huntress and honour Coll’s memory. I probably wouldn’t be much good at it. But I still want to make his dream come true, and I need a huntsman or huntress to help me do that. What you said, about places and people that can’t afford a huntsman to come and help them … Coll talked about that. He used to say that he’d help people for nothing, since he was so rich it would be wrong to ask people to pay him.

“You’ve got a good idea, but there are a couple of things missing from it.”

Ruby licked her lips. “What are they?”

“A wealthy backer,” Iona said, “and all the dust and tech support that you could ask for. Weapons, vehicles, gadgets; if we can build it, then it’s at your disposal. And I’ll pay you, and anyone else in your group who goes in with you, so that you won’t have to worry about the fees from any job you do. And all that you have to do in return is be a great huntress and make Coll proud.”

Sunset’s eyebrows climbed so high that they were nestling in her hair. That … this was … assuming this was legit, and the burly Mistralian bodyguard certainly suggested that this was at least somewhat on the up and up, then this was incredible. This was great for Ruby. This was … this was the world on a plate for her.

Free to do anything and everything she’d ever wanted, without needing to worry about any of the practicalities.

Considering everything we’ve put her through, I can’t say she doesn’t deserve this.

Sunset didn’t quite take another step back, but she did lean backwards a little, rocking on the balls of her feet as she clasped her hands behind her back and allowed a slight smile to cross her face.

Ruby … would be free. Free to do as she wished, no team leader to hold her back, no teammates to mother her, no one to treat her like she was too young, no one to disagree with her, no one to argue with her.

Free to be a huntress as she thought a huntress ought to act.

Of course, that sense of how a huntress ought to act was what they’d been arguing about in the first place.

But, as Ruby had pointed out, the principle mattered; if it was good for Amber to be allowed to do as she wanted, why wasn’t it good for Ruby as well? Because they were worried about her? It seemed she wasn’t worried about herself, so why should they worry?

Because I know better.

Debatable. The little rich girl with all the money certainly doesn’t seem to agree.

“Why…” Ruby asked. “Why me?”

“Because I think you get it,” Iona said. “I think you’re the kind of huntsman that Coll wanted to become. One who just wants to help. Or am I wrong?”

Ruby was silent for a few seconds, and then for a few seconds after that. She glanced down at the ground, and with one hand, she reached for the silver rose at her belt, stroking the jagged leaves with her fingertips.

“No,” she said, “you’re not wrong. At least, I sure hope you’re not wrong. But I am just a student. I don’t have my huntsman licence

“You can start when you get it; I’m not going to get old waiting for you to graduate,” Iona said. “It’s not like I’ll be twenty. And in the meantime, if you want anything, you can just ask.”

“What … what kind of things?” Ruby asked.

“Anything,” Iona said. “You have any ideas, show them to me, and I’ll tell you if we can build it.” She paused, sucking on her lollipop. “So, you wanna come by the lab some time and talk about toys?”

“Uh, yeah!” Ruby squawked. “Yeah, I would, I … I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” Iona said. “I’m counting on you.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “I … I’ll make your brother proud, I promise.” She gave a firm, vigorous nod of her head as she brought one hand up into a fist above her heart. “I’ll make everyone proud, I promise.”

The Eyes of the World (Rewritten)

The Eyes of the World

The eyes of the whole world were turned upon Vale.

It was always thus, when the Vytal Festival began, but it was especially so now; Cinder had seen to that.

As she sat in the parlour of Portchester Manor, with Emerald sitting by her side, Emerald’s scroll propped up against some hardback books so that they could watch the parade, she was reminded of the fact.

She was the one who had shaken Vale to its foundations and caused all eyes to turn towards it, not merely with curiosity but with concern.

She had done that. Whatever else she had done, or not done, she had done that.

Though all else felt like water slipping between her fingers, she had done that.

The eyes of the world were turned on Vale, and all the positive news coverage and puff pieces about the great Pyrrha Nikos couldn’t disguise the fact that there had only recently been a grimm incursion into Vale itself, that the skies were full of Valish and Atlesian airships, that the streets below were full of Valish troops, that sentiment against the Atlesians and faunus alike were on the rise.

All the talk about the Vytal virtues of harmony and togetherness couldn’t disguise the fact that the city hosting this year’s Vytal Festival was in a decidedly unsettled state.

The police officers lining the route of the parade might manage to stop any disruption from spoiling the parade itself, and the parade of all the huntsmen might be able to drive away all fear and concern from the minds and hearts of men for a little, but after that, after the parade was over, the world would still be watching Vale with worry, not knowing what would come next.

But at least they could watch the parade and take their minds off things for a little while, just as Cinder meant to.

“Is this a very ladylike thing to do?” asked Emerald.

Cinder blinked as she glanced at her. “Hmm?”

“I asked if this was a ladylike thing to do,” Emerald repeated.

“Oh, yes,” Cinder assured her. “The games mark the mingling point between high and low culture, where the interests of great lords and common men alike come together. Bread and the games, Emerald, it was ever thus: the great were offered glory, the low a respite from their woes. Now, in this more egalitarian age we live in, the low may rise high and attain glory in their own right if they have the skill, but all those who do not fight are yet offered a respite from their woes, as well as a chance to admire the skills of outstanding athletes, mimicking the forms developed many generations ago by our hallowed ancestors.”

“Is that why you’re watching?” Emerald murmured. “For a respite from your woes?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. She drummed her fingers lightly upon her knee. “You have gotten very bold to ask me that,” she murmured. “Not long ago, you would have been too frightened to give voice to the suggestion.”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Emerald said softly. Her eyes widened a little. “In a good way, obviously.”

Cinder snorted. “Thank you for the clarification,” she said dryly. “The difference being, I suppose, that I have become a pussycat in your eyes, rather than you having learned to stand up to me.”

“No,” Emerald said. “No, it’s not … I just … I don’t think you’d hurt me, not anymore.”

Is that a compliment? It feels at once like a compliment and, at the same time, not.

After all, it is not too far off saying that I have turned pussycat; it is only said more politely.

And what have I been teaching her, after all, but to say things more politely?

Nevertheless … nevertheless, it does not hurt me; rather…

Well, it worries me a little, but at the same time … it does not wholly displease me.

I shall take it as a compliment, even if it was not meant as one.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Emerald smiled with one corner of her mouth. “You’re welcome.” She paused. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No,” Cinder agreed. “No, I did not.”

Emerald, in turn, did not respond. A silence settled between them, but a comfortable one, as they watched the parade begin, as they watched the students of Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade Academies begin to march through the streets of Vale to inaugurate the Vytal Tournament.

Am I watching this for respite from my woes? Cinder asked herself as she watched Sunset, not too far from the front of the parade, her fiery hair distinctive. Am I the same as all those people lining the way, cheering for their favourites?

Perhaps I am. And what of that? I have woes as great as any, and greater than most. I have lost Salem’s unbridled confidence, and very soon, I shall be of no use to her.

I have set the stage. Whatever else I did or did not do, however else I have failed, I did that. I have put all things in readiness.

Soon, the last act will begin.

But in the meantime … respite from my woes, I may join the rest of the world with its eyes on Vale and lend my support to … well, Pyrrha, having beaten me, the very least you could do is win this and prove yourself the greatest warrior of your generation.

And then the third time will pay for all.

But until then, best of luck.

Enjoy it while it lasts, all of you.

As I shall try to do.

The eyes of the world were turned on Vale.

They were the eyes of a little girl in Mistral named Diana Archer, eight years old, and her six-year-old sister Selene; they shared a bedroom, and on the bedroom wall was a poster of Pyrrha Nikos. On the nightstand was a picture from last year’s FightFan Expo of the two sisters, with Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan kneeling down on either side of them, smiling as the two sisters put their arms around the shoulders of their idols.

The two sisters were a little too young to understand the nuances of the difference between a tournament fighter and a huntress, but they both agreed that they were, collectively, the coolest people ever. Diana wanted to be a huntress/tournament champion herself when she grew up; Selene thought they were awesome, but she still wanted to be a vet and treat sick cats and dogs and bunny rabbits.

Currently, they were both lying on their fronts on the floor in front of the TV, in the house of their stay-at-home mom and caravaneer dad, roughly halfway up the city. Their parents — Dad had gotten back from a caravan run to Kisthene just in time — sat on the sofa behind them, watching the parade over the heads of the two children. As the cameras panned up and down the column of students, the two girls tried to spot the fighters that they knew.

“Ooh, look, there’s Jason down there, with Meleager,” Diana said. She sighed slightly. “He’s so dreamy, isn’t he?”

“What does that mean?” asked Selene.

Diana looked at her little sister. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“There!” Selene cried, almost leaping up to her feet. “There she is, there’s Arslan!”

“Yes!” Diana squawked in loud agreement. “And look, there’s Pyrrha over there!”

“Where?” asked Selene

“There, next to the girl in the red hood, behind the one with kitty ears.”

“Yes! Yes, I see her, I see her!” Selene shouted.

“She’s only right next to you,” Dad observed amusedly from behind them.

“Sorry, Dad,” Selene murmured. “When they finish walking, are they going to start the fights?”

“Not yet,” Mom said. “First, there’s the opening ceremony, and then the lighting of the Fire of Friendship, but then, after that, yes, the fights will begin very soon.”

They were the eyes of Leaf Kelly and her new roommate and fellow mechanic, Veil, as they sat in their decidedly modest underground Atlas apartment. The lights were off, which, with no windows, made some of the apartment very, very dark indeed, but it also meant that the image from Veil’s laptop was very bright, and there were no inconvenient reflections getting in the way of the picture. This apartment was better than the one Leaf had first moved into, but they still didn’t have a kitchen, so they’d gotten a sharing bucket from the fried chicken joint a couple of corridors down. It sat between them on the cheap sofa, a plastic tray ensuring that they didn’t get any grease stains on the furniture.

“So, that’s them, right?” Veil asked, helping herself to a fry. She was a dark-skinned human, with black hair worn in cornrows down the sides of her face and eyeshadow of almost luminescent pink above her eyes. “The one at the front of the Beacon students with black hair, and the one second Atlas row, with the rainbow hair, that’s them, they’re the ones who rescued you.”

“Yep,” Leaf agreed. “But you already knew that, right? I mean, how can you not know who Blake and Rainbow Dash are? They’re big heroes now.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” Veil said. “You know they’re making a TV show about them? At least they’re talking about it.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Veil said. “It was reported in this week’s Entertainment Digest. Let me just…” She wiped her fingers on a napkin and picked up the magazine from off the floor.

“You can’t possibly read in this dark,” Leaf said as she popped a popcorn chicken into her mouth.

Veil angled the magazine in such a way that the light from the laptop fell upon the open page. “The new show, currently being developed for pilot, is provisionally entitled Warrior Princess, will tell the story of two Atlas huntresses, and faunus, Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash, based on two Atlas students who recently blah blah … as the two of them work to uncover the mysteries of Blake’s past, the death of her mother, and her connection to an ancient evil threatening Remnant.”

Leaf frowned. “A what?”

“An ancient evil threatening Remnant,” Veil said.

“That sounds like a lame idea,” Leaf said. “And I’m pretty sure Blake’s mom isn’t dead; she told me that she fell out with her, but she made it sound like she was still alive.”

“Well, they have to make it exciting for television,” Veil pointed out.

“If they didn’t think they were exciting enough, why are they making a TV show about them?” Leaf replied. “Isn’t fighting monsters each week exciting enough?”

“Atlesian audiences want more sophisticated entertainment these days; everything has to have an overarching plot about the end of the world,” Veil said. “Still, it might be worth watching.”

“Probably not,” Leaf muttered. “Who’s in it?”

“Um … they’re talking about someone called Jacaranda Padalecki to play Blake, and Jetsam Ackles as Rainbow Dash. I’ve never heard of either of them.”

Leaf grunted. “Let’s just watch the real deal.”

Veil put the magazine down and helped herself to a couple more fries. “So,” she said, “which one are you rooting for?”

Leaf glanced at her. “I’m rooting for both of them, and Ruby and Sunset.”

Veil rolled her brown eyes. “Yeah, but they can’t all win, can they? So which is your favourite?”

“They’re my friends; I don’t have favourites.”

“I’m not asking you to pick which one is going to live and which of them is going to die,” Veil said, “just which one you want to win the tournament.”

Leaf hesitated. “I don’t feel right saying.”

“Come on!” Veil insisted. “They’re not going to know, are they? Spill it!”

Leaf huffed, and kept her eyes on the laptop as she said, “Blake.”

“Interesting!” Veil said. “Why?”

“Because she’s like me, kind of,” Leaf said. “She ran away from her mum, she came to Atlas, she found herself … I just think that’s pretty cool. I’d like to see her keep succeeding.”

“And uncover the secrets of her mysterious past.”

“Stop that,” Leaf said. “This … this is going to be much cooler than any show that they could come up with, trust me.”

They were the eyes of Saphron, Terra, and Adrian Cotta-Arc, who sat watching TV in the living room of their house in Argus, on the north coast of Anima. As they watched, the parade came to a close, and all the students began to file into a public park, where the headmaster of Beacon was waiting to give a speech and the Amity Princess held the torch to light the Fires of Friendship.

Saphron dandled little Adrian upon her knee. “That’s your Uncle Jaune out there,” she cooed, pointing to the screen. “Yes it is. Yes it is. And the woman you’ll be calling Aunt Pyrrha by the time you’re old enough to talk.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, dear,” Terra said as she walked in from the kitchen, carrying a big bowl of popcorn in her arms and a bottle of heated milk in her hand. She sat down next to her wife and placed the bottle in Adrian’s mouth.

“Oh, you saw the way that they were together,” Saphron said. “If they’re not meant for one another, I’ll eat your … what do you have that I could eat?”

“Nothing that I’d want you to,” Terra said primly. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Although I admit that they make a cute couple. Almost as cute as you and me.”

Saphron chuckled before kissing her on the cheek. “How do you think they’ll do?”

“You’re asking me like I’m an expert,” Terra said.

“You were the one who knew who Pyrrha was.”

“I know that she’s good,” Terra said. “As far as Mistral is concerned, she’s the best, and she’s proved it four times. Some people think that Arslan might finally get the win, and maybe she will, but … I wouldn’t count on it. If this was another Mistral tournament, I’d bet on Pyrrha. But is there someone better out there from Vale or Atlas or Vacuo? I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll just have to watch and see.”

“And wish them luck,” Saphron added.

Terra smiled. “Yes,” she agreed. “That too.”

Adrian pointed frantically at the TV, wordless noises leaping excitedly out of his mouth like gambolling little lambs.

“What’s that?” Saphron asked, following his pointed finger. “Oh, you found them! Who’s a clever boy? You are. Yes you are. You found your Uncle Jaune and Aunt Pyrrha.”

“Please stop that,” Terra said.

They were … not the eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower, as she sat in her office feeling as though she might be going cross-eyed as she looked at another request for a huntsman — to escort Councillor Kiyat to one of his estates in the country. He was offering a substantial sum of money for the task, so there should be no difficulty finding a willing huntsman to take the assignment.

The next job, however, was for someone to go out to the village of Decelea, on the road north to Argus, and help a farmer there: someone or something had killed one of his sons in the fields, and the farmer wanted it — or them — dealt with. A worthy cause, to be sure, but not one that offered a particularly heavy purse.

Terri-Belle sighed. She would have taken the job herself except, that she felt chained to her desk by all of this interminable paperwork. If she could not prod either Shining Light or Blonn-Di to do it, then she would, at the last resort, order one of her Guard to go and accept the low fee.

It chafed at her to leave the mission untaken, vengeance unfulfilled, regardless of the freedom of the job board.

Behind her, visible out of the little window in the back wall of her study, a dead man swung slowly from a gibbet. One of his neighbours had accused him of worshipping the grimm.

Polemarch Yeoh had reported back what she had learned from Pyrrha Nikos about Cinder Fall, the architect of the attack on Vale. It wasn’t much, and offered little to benefit Mistral or enable them to prepare their defences, but Pyrrha had let slip that Cinder Fall was apparently a grimm cultist driven by pursuit of their insane creed.

It was illegal to worship the grimm in public, to keep a black altar in your house, for any man or woman to be a priest of that profane faith, or for more than three people to gather in worship of the grimm in private. By special edict of the Council, those laws had been tightened: any worship, public or private, was prohibited on pain of death. The danger to Mistral would not be tolerated.

Terri-Belle was … she would confess herself to be a little concerned about the low standards of evidence on which some people were being convicted, but … there were no summary judgements handed down, no rubber-stamped warrants for execution; everyone who was accused was tried before a jury of their peers in accordance with the laws and customs of Mistral, and in accordance with those laws and customs, it required a majority vote of the jury to convict them. If a jury of honest Mistralians felt that the accusations of a neighbour, the discovery of a poppet — a cursed doll meant to sic the grimm upon they whom the doll represented — was sufficient to vote to send a man or woman to the gallows then who was Terri-Belle to gainsay them?

The House of Thrax were stewards, not emperors; they were servants to the law, not masters of it.

And while some of the evidence, and the sudden emergence of a class of people who seemed to make it their business to lurk under windowsills listening for any incriminating word that they could take to the Praetor, troubled her somewhat, surely they were better than the alternative? Surely it was worth it to keep Mistral safe?

The thought inured her against the sound of the gibbet swinging squeakily back and forwards outside her window.

Swift Foot stepped into the room, her eyes lingering for a moment on the dead man outside, before she looked downwards at Terri-Belle.

“It’s starting,” she said.

“Enjoy it then,” Terri-Belle murmured, not needing to ask her what was starting.

“I’d enjoy it more if you were there,” Swift Foot replied.

“I’d enjoy that too,” Terri-Belle said softly. “Unfortunately, I’m busy.”

“And who warned you that taking on all of this work yourself was a terrible idea?” Swift Foot asked.

Terri-Belle looked up to glare at her.

“Well, I did,” Swift Foot muttered.

“Yes,” Terri-Belle admitted. “You did. But it was necessary, even if you were right.”

“You deserve a break,” Swift Foot insisted. “Everyone deserves a break; it’s the Vytal Tournament! It’s a public holiday!”

“Not for huntsmen, unfortunately,” Terri-Belle replied. “The downside of setting your own hours is that you don’t get public holidays.”

Swift Foot was silent for a few seconds. “You know, some would say that as the Warden of the White Tower, the highest huntress in Mistral and as a Vytal finalist yourself, it’s your duty to watch Mistral’s hopefuls compete for the honour of the kingdom.”

Terri-Belle looked at her. “Seriously?”

Swift Foot shrugged. “Semi-seriously.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Terri-Belle said, looking back down—”

“Oh, come on!” Swift Foot said. “You can dip in and out for the Mistral matches, they don’t take very long, you can spare that amount of time. And you can make up for it by sleeping less.” She smiled. “And besides, I don’t see anyone beating a path to your door looking for work right now, do you?”

She had a point there: she could catalogue the missions on offer, but having taken on the job of managing all the assignments, she was dependent upon huntsmen and huntresses actually wanting assignments. They had to come to her, and Terri-Belle would lay out what was on offer, how much it paid, how dangerous — as rated by Terri-Belle herself based on the information provided — and then they would either take the job they wanted or leave them alone.

And as Swift Foot had pointed out, there was no one here at the moment.

Which meant … she couldn’t say it wasn’t tempting.

Swift Foot was right; the individual matches themselves didn’t take very long.

“I will be in and out,” she said. “For the Mistral matches only.”

“Fair enough,” Swift Foot agreed. “Hey, do you really think it’ll come home this year?”

“It had better,” Terri-Belle said as she got up. “I don’t know when we’ll have a chance like this again.”

They were the eyes of Juturna Rutulus, sat on the sofa in the sitting room, intermittently tearing her eyes away from the giant TV to tear open another bag of popcorn.

About twenty opened bags of popcorn already littered the sitting room.

And there were some unopened bags still on the seat next to her.

She stuck one hand into the bag and rummaged around, her fingers groping through the toffee popcorn until she felt something plastic. She fumbled for it, reaching deeper into the bag until she could get two fingers scissoring the flat, plastic object lurking with the box. With a triumphant grin on her face Juturna pulled out a Pyrrha Nikos card.

“Lavinia Andronicus again!” Juturna moaned.

A shadow fell over Juturna, causing her to look up into Turnus’ face.

“Hey, bro,” Juturna said. “Is Camilla coming?”

“She’s finishing up in the kitchen,” Turnus said. He put his hands on his hips as he added, “Although I don’t suppose you’ll be very hungry for the next few weeks. You know, you might have waited until you’d eaten the first bag before you opened the second or the third.”

“It’s not about the popcorn, duh!” Juturna replied. “I want the cards. Or at least, I want a card. I’ve got a Pyrrha, two Arslans, three Cicero Ward the Youngers, Jason, Meleager, three each of the Andronicus siblings, two Phoebe Kommenoses— do you think they know who the contests are before we do?”

“I think they might make cards for all the students on the off-chance,” Turnus replied.

“The point is, I really want a Ruby card, and I can’t find one anywhere,” Juturna said. “I’ve opened all of these bags, I’ve got a ton of Pyrrhas, like I said, I’ve got her boyfriend and her right-hand girl, but I don’t have Ruby yet.”

“Hmm,” Turnus murmured, without a lot of sympathy. “Are you going to eat all of those?”

“Maybe, eventually, some of them,” Juturna said, grabbing another unopened bag of popcorn. “I mean, it’s not like we can’t afford to waste them, right?”

“True, I suppose,” Turnus muttered. “Even so, it’s a little excessive.”

“I’ll eat some of them eventually,” Juturna assured him. “I don’t want to fill up too quickly, though; what have we got?”

“A quiche, with spinach, beans, and tarragon,” Turnus said.

Juturna looked up at him for a moment. “I think I might prefer the popcorn,” she said, popping open another bag.

“Is that so?” Camilla asked as she carried the quiche into the sitting room. “I am sorry to have disappointed you.”

“No, no, I didn’t … don’t do that,” Juturna said. “I’m sure it will be great. Do you ever think it’s a little weird that you two know how to cook?”

“Father always said that it relaxed him, helped him to unwind,” Turnus said as he sat down next to her. “I think the smiles on your face as you ate his cakes definitely didn’t hurt either.”

Juturna leaned sideways, resting on Turnus’ arm and shoulder. “They were pretty great, weren’t they? And he didn’t even need to use a packet mix sometimes. Did you guys make the pastry yourselves?”

“No,” Camilla said, putting the quiche down on the table in front of them. “The pastry came in the same delivery as all your popcorn.”

Juturna reached inside said popcorn packet, because it was open by now after all, and soon found what her fingers were looking for, pulling out— “Ruby!” she yelled. “I got it, finally, yes! A Ruby card!” She held up the card triumphantly, a very cool-looking picture of Ruby Rose posing with her scythe held behind her, blade on the ground and the shaft lancing upwards past her head. Juturna wondered if she practised that.

“Camilla, Camilla,” she said, momentarily turning to mist and air as she travelled across the sitting room — using her semblance to avoid tripping over the table and knocking the quiche onto the floor or something, to end up kneeling in front of the TV. “Take a picture: me, watching Ruby, with my Ruby!”

They were the eyes of Lieutenant DJ Martinez, VPD, who had been … strongly encouraged by her captain to take some time off. Apparently, she hadn’t taken enough days off this year. Or the year before.

It was a view with which her husband was in wholehearted agreement. Martinez would have thought that of all the people who might understand why she worked so long and so late, it would be a coast guard officer, but apparently not. Traitor.

Still, now that she was lying on the couch, and on the lap of her husband, Mike, with a bowl of cheese puffs on her own lap, taking some time off didn’t feel like such a bad idea.

I wonder why I don’t do this more often.

Crime. All the crime is why I don’t do this more often.

Her two sons, Stuart and Tyler, were both wearing huntsman costumes — not any particular huntsman than Martinez recognised, just generic ideas of huntsmen — and they were running up and down in the living room, laughing as they whacked at one another with plastic swords.

“Hey, hey, settle down, you two!” Martinez called to them, loudly but not harshly. “If you want to do that kind of thing, go outside; I don’t want you breaking anything in here.”

The two of them lowered their swords. “Sorry Mom,” moaned Stuart.

Tyler turned around to look at the TV. “Hey, when are they going to start fighting?”

“Soon, buddy, they just got a few things to take care of first,” said Mike, as with one hand, he played with Martinez’s hair absently. “Now step aside a couple of inches; you’re blocking the view.”

Tyler stepped out of the way. “Which are the ones that you know, Mom?”

Martinez put the bowl of cheese puffs down on the floor as she rolled off the sofa and crawled a little closer to the TV to get a better view. The cameras kept moving around, but fortunately, she was used to that; she could spot a suspect in a crowd in a snap of her fingers. She looked for Weiss’ distinctive white hair; unfortunately, with how short she was, she was kind of hidden by just about anyone who was bigger than she was — which was pretty much everyone.

Cardin was easier to spot; his hair wasn’t so unique, but there weren’t many kids his age who were as big as he was or built like he was, and so, she soon spotted him, sticking up in the ranks of students like a rock emerging out of the water. From there, she could spot Russel’s mohawk and — now that she knew where to look — Weiss’ brilliant white hair.

“There!” she said, pointing. “There, that’s them, they’re the ones that I got to work with. Team Wisteria. Weiss, Cardin, Flash, and Russel.”

Tyler and Stuart both leaned in for a better look.

“If they worked with you, then they must be the best,” Tyler said.

“Nah, Mom’s the best,” Stuart said. “But everyone who works with her is just lucky.”

“Well, that is very sweet, but they are actually pretty good,” Martinez said.

“Good enough to win?” asked Tyler.

“I don’t know about that, sweetie,” Martinez admitted, “but they are pretty good, so I would say … they’re in with a shot.” She nodded. “Yeah, they gotta be. They gotta be in with a shot.”

Now don’t make me look like an idiot after I said that by getting knocked out in the first round, okay, kids?

They were the eyes of the Arc family, and many guests who had come around to their house, either invited or otherwise. Some had come round because they knew that ‘the Arc boy’ or ‘young Jaune,’ who had come home for a visit recently much changed — and with a lovely-looking young girlfriend to boot; who would have ever seen that coming? — was taking part in some big old shindig in the city. Some had come round because the Arcs had a television set, one of the only ones in Alba Longa, and their neighbours wanted to get a good look at it.

For once, Mrs. Arc wasn’t doing the cooking; rather, since the weather was keeping fine and there were an awful lot of guests — and because it seemed appropriate to the festive spirit — Mister Arc was out in the garden out back, practising that most masculine of the arts: the barbecue.

He was joined by Kendal, who expertly flipped a burger over on the grill.

“You’ve gotten pretty good at that,” Dad observed, turning over a sausage. He smiled. “I remember when I tried to show your brother how to do this — I thought he was going to set himself on fire!”

Kendal chuckled. “Yeah, Jaune was happier in the kitchen,” she said. She paused for a second. “Funny, isn’t it? Who would have thought he’d end up at Beacon, and about to compete in the Vytal Tournament?”

“Who would have thought?” Dad agreed. “But, you know … lately, I … I’ve been thinking: about Jaune, about you … was it ever difficult for you, like it was for Jaune?”

Kendal shrugged. “I … maybe. A little.”

Dad looked at her, eyebrows rising.

“Okay, yeah, more than a little sometimes,” Kendal replied. “You weren’t exactly supportive.”

“I’ve been thinking that maybe I didn’t give Jaune enough credit for the courage of being himself,” Dad said. “Or you, for that matter.”

“Well, Jaune wasn’t always trying to be himself; he was trying to impress you half the time,” Kendal pointed out. “But … thanks, Dad. I think that would mean a lot to Jaune if he were here to hear it.”

She flipped the burger again. “And that’s another one done. Anyone want a burger? Or another burger?”

From out of the crowd of friends and neighbours milling around stepped Miranda Wells, raising one hand timidly. “I’ll take one,” she said.

“Coming right up,” Kendal said, whirling around to grab a paper plate from off the folding table behind her, then putting half a bun down upon it. With practice ease, she flipped the burger down onto the bun. “Cheese, sauce?”

“Um, no cheese, but I’ll have some mustard, if you—”

“Gotcha covered,” Kendal said, grabbing the big mustard tube that they only used for barbecues and squirting a great big glob of the stuff right down into the centre of the burger, before she planted the top half of the bun down squarely on top of it. “And there you go.”

“Thanks,” Miranda said softly, as she accepted the proffered burger with both hands, one hand holding the plate and the other resting on the top bun.

Kendal put her hands on her hips. “So how are you doing?”

“I…” Miranda hesitated for a moment. “I’m better,” she said. “I’m doing better.” She paused. “Big day for Jaune, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kendal agreed. She put one hand on Miranda’s shoulder. “You know, if you need anything … just let me know, okay?”

Miranda smiled softly. “You mean, like a refill or another burger or something?”

Kendal nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, trusting that Miranda knew what she really meant. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Thanks,” Miranda said. “I’ll bear that in mind. You know, you two are going to miss everything if you stay out here. Opening ceremony is almost over.”

“It’s not unmissable,” Dad assured her. “Ozpin’s probably using the same speech he gave when I was a student.”

“Was it a good speech?” asked Kendal.

Dad shrugged. “It wasn’t bad. But we’ll be done here before the fights start, don’t worry. If people haven’t eaten by then, it’s their fault.”

At that moment, Sky came out of the house and made a beeline for the barbecue. “At this rate, we’re going to run out of beers,” she said.

“Send Chester round to the store to pick up some more,” Dad said.

“Rouge already did that,” Sky said. “Even so, it’s a big crowd.”

“It’s a big day,” Dad said. “A big few days, even more for Pyrrha than for Jaune.”

“Because she’s got more fights ahead of her?” Sky guessed.

“Yep,” Dad agreed. “And because each fight, you have fewer teammates with you, and each fight, the pressure builds.”

“But she’s got Jaune waiting for her when the fight ends,” Kendal said. “That’s something worth fighting for, right?”

“It better be,” Sky said.

“For her, it is,” Miranda said. “I’m sure it is.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Dad said. “At least, she convinced me as much as she convinced anyone else. So we should probably get the rest of this meat served up before the opening ceremonies end. Okay, who wants sausages?”

They were the eyes of Doctor Diggory, where he sat ensconced in an armchair, while young Miss Pole and young Mister Scrub sat on the settee nearby eating ham sandwiches, while some of Mrs. Macready’s lemon cupcakes waited on the table in front of them for when they were finished.

“Is everyone who helped us competing in this tournament, Doctor?” asked Miss Pole.

Doctor Diggory took a sip from his teacup. “Miss Shimmer, Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer are all present,” he said, “but not Miss Doo, I’m afraid. After what happened … she doesn’t have anyone with whom she could fight in the earlier matches.”

“They could have let her try anyway,” said Mister Scrub. “I mean, she’s brave enough, isn’t she?”

“Without a doubt, my dear boy, but rules are rules,” Doctor Diggory replied. Personally, he had always, even when he was a student himself, found himself agreed with young Mister Diggory: it was unfair, frightfully unfair, that those students who lost a teammate were barred from competing in this, the greatest of all contests, when it might be said that they had proved their worthiness more than any others. But what could be done? How was it to be managed? If they were allowed to compete with fewer members, would that give them an unfair advantage?

And, if it did not, what did that say about the teams they were up against?

“In any case,” he went on, “our friends who are present will no doubt appreciate your support.”

“Did you ever compete in the tournament, Doctor?” asked Miss Pole.

“Oh, yes,” Doctor Diggory replied. “Of course, I was a much, much younger man then. As I recall, we did rather well. I fought in the second round, the two-on-two, and we were victorious, although my team leader chose to send one of the other fellows into the final round. We both wanted it very badly … and then he lost his match, and I never let him forget it.” He chuckled softly to himself, momentarily overcome by the memory of bygone days long ago.

My goodness, the world seemed simple then.

Simple and grand and ever so glorious.

I wonder if it seems as simple to those young men and women there today?

It was not likely that it seemed so simple to Miss Shimmer, Miss Glimmer, or Miss Lulamoon. Still less to Miss Doo. Not after what they’d been through here at Arcadia Lake.

He hoped, he very much hoped, that all the fun of the festival would be a balm to all their burdens. It had been for him. After Mountain Glenn, Vale had been the next kingdom to host the festival, although there had been many arguing that it was too soon or inappropriate, nevertheless, it had gone ahead, and Diggory had found himself drawn to it, wandering the fairgrounds, watching the children, the eager students, all the tourists, just reminding himself that there was still so much life in the world, and so much good.

It had helped him to find a little peace.

He hoped with all his heart that the young huntresses who had come to defend Arcadia Lake when it was in need would find some of that same peace by the time this festival was over.

And many, many more. Across the kingdoms, across all of Remnant, the eyes of the world were turned towards Vale as their hearts reached out towards the Amity Coliseum, pinning their hopes and dreams upon one hundred and twenty-eight huntsmen and huntresses who would fight for kingdom, school, and honour … and for the delectation of the crowds.

The eyes of the world were turned on Vale, the hearts of the world reached out towards the arena … but would they behold a shining light of hope, or a dark fire of death and destruction?

Time, only time, would tell.

Author's Note

Since the Vytal Festival is in large part a public event, and since a large part of the villains’ plan is to induce a mass of negative emotions in people to attract the grimm, it seemed right to have a short chapter to introduce placeholders or representatives of the wider population to cut back to every so often to show how they’re reacting to events as they unfold. The advantage of having such a large cast of minor characters is that I didn’t have to introduce many new people here, mostly using existing ones from earlier in the story.

Rewrite Notes: Looking back at the original author's note leaves me a little baffled because I didn't have that many characters in this chapter, and a fair few of them were new. I feel like this time around I was able to deliver on the intent a little better by virtue of having a lot more minor characters to use: Lt Martinez, Terri-Belle and Swift Foot, Turnus, Camilla and Juturna, Leaf, Doctor Diggory, the Arcs. I was able to cut some characters from the original, like the Mistralian gladiators, and still have plenty of talking heads whom you've alreayd met. This... this has actually proven to be a bit of a bane to me in writing upcoming chapters, but let's enjoy it here while it lasts.

We're Gonna Take You Down (Rewritten)

We’re Gonna Take You Down

The voice of Professor Port boomed out across the arena. “Aspic Braun has been eliminated! And with that, Team Aspidistra is out of the match! Team Sun of Haven Academy stands victorious!”

“Yes!” Blake said, pumping both fists. “Great job, Sun!”

Applejack chuckled. “Ah think you might need to shout just a little bit louder if you want him to hear you from all the way over there, sugarcube.”

Blake chuckled nervously. “You’re … probably right.”

Sun turned, and pointed a pair of fingerguns squarely in Blake’s direction. Looking up at one of the big screens presently displaying a closeup of Sun’s face, Pyrrha could see that he winked at her.

Blake’s cheeks flushed. “Did he … hear me?”

“With his heart, perhaps,” Pyrrha murmured, a smile playing across her lips.

There were seats in the front two rows of the Amity Arena that were reserved expressly and explicitly for Vytal Festival contenders — in a certain section of the front two rows, in any case; it would have been an awful lot of room to waste cordoning the entire front rows of this vast arena purely for a maximum of one hundred and twenty eight students — but Team SAPR and Blake had joined Rainbow Dash’s friends amongst the general crowd.

That had its disadvantages — Pyrrha thought that she had been subject of at least two photographs, and those were just the ones who had been indiscrete about it — but, since Rainbow’s friends weren’t competing in the Vytal Festival, and since Blake in particular wanted to watch these matches in their company, there was little to be done about it.

And Rainbow’s friends were good company, in any case.

“That’s the second loss for Atlas in a row,” Rarity observed. “I have to admit I’m a little disappointed.”

“Sun’s very good,” Blake said. “And so is the rest of his team,” she added.

Sunset snorted. “Smooth. Very smooth.”

“It’s just the way it is,” Applejack said. “Some you win, and some you lose; you celebrate the winnin’, and you learn what you can from the losin’ and get stronger next time. Ain’t nobody can win every single thing every single time, not even Atlas.”

“And besides, there’s still Rainbow Dash’s fight to come! They ain’t seen nothing yet!” Pinkie cried.

She was rather curiously dressed in a short tank top that left her midriff bare to the world and a short skirt that barely covered her thighs, while her knees were at present concealed beneath the pair of blue and red pom poms that she was holding onto. Pyrrha wasn’t sure why, but she suspected that she’d find out soon enough.

Her hair was tied up in a pair of rather large buns on either side of her head, so that they looked like rather pom poms themselves.

“Maybe not,” Jaune said, “but the Haven fans certainly seem to be enjoying themselves right now.”

He was quite right. The whole Colosseum was awash with noise, cheering for the victors, the occasional mean-spirited jeer for the defeated Atlesians, but one sound gradually rose above the discordant harmony of the arena: the cheering of the Mistral crowd transforming from a babble of wild tongues crying wildly out, to a united choir that was, more or less, managing not to hit the right notes, but at least all to follow the same beat as they half-sang, half-chanted the old familiar song.

“It’s coming home!

It’s coming home!

It’s coming!

Fighting’s coming home!”

“There’s always something faintly premature about that song,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You’ve heard that song before?” Jaune asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s been around for a few years by now,” Pyrrha said, “ever since Lady Terri-Belle made it to the final fight ten years ago. ‘Thirty years no yield, never stop believing.’ I suppose it should be forty years now.” She could not help but sigh. “Forty years since the last time a Haven student, or a Mistralian in whom Mistral felt it could take pride, won the Vytal tournament.”

“Why do they say it’s coming home?” Ruby asked. “The Vytal Festival doesn’t belong to Mistral, and neither does the tournament.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed, “but Mistral invented heroic combat as a spectator sport — there have been no arenas found by archaeologists that predate what we might call Mistralian civilisations — and the Vytal tournament is the supreme expression of that art, and so, it galls my people that we are not supreme in it.”

“Forty years, that is a run of bad luck,” Applejack said. “Makes Atlas losin’ two matches on the trot seem pretty small apples by comparison.”

“I’m not sure the crowd will agree with you,” Rarity replied, “unless Rainbow Dash can restore some lustre to the name of Atlas in this next match.”

Blake folded her arms. “Pyrrha,” she murmured. “Do you think … do you think the fact that Sun is from Vacuo will count against Sun with the crowd?”

“It doesn’t seem to be counting against him at the moment,” Sunset said. “The crowd’s still going, listen.”

“It’s coming home!

It’s coming home!

It’s coming!”

“My understanding was that Sun doesn’t have any particular links to Vacuo beyond the accident of having been born there,” Pyrrha said.

“I’d say that was fair enough,” Blake allowed.

“Then unless Vacuo tries very hard to claim him as their own, he should be safe enough,” Pyrrha said. “What Mistral wants most of all is a winner, and he proved himself to be one today.”

Blake smiled. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, he certainly did.”

“That was another disappointing result for Atlas Academy,” Doctor Oobleck declared, his words somewhat blurring together as they echoed out over the tannoy, his face — along with that of Professor Port — appearing on the giant screens. “But they’ll have a chance to win back some of their dignity with our next exciting match!”

“Yes, it’s an Atlas versus Haven rematch coming up next,” Professor Port declared. “Will Team Rosepetal of Atlas and Team Jasmine of Haven please make their way up to the arena so we can start this next match as quickly as possible? Team Rosepetal have made something of a name for themselves this year with their combat performance, but will it be enough to overcome their opponents?”

“Who can say, Peter, who can say?” Doctor Oobleck asked. “Doing well against grimm or against petty criminals is no guarantee of success against highly skilled, well-motivated huntsmen and huntresses.”

“'Petty'?” Sunset repeated. “'Petty'? I’m sorry, who are they calling petty criminals?”

“They’re just trying to fill the air,” Pyrrha said softly.

“There was nothing petty about some of the criminals we went up against,” Sunset declared.

“'Petty'?” Cinder repeated. “'Petty'? Ill-mannered wretch! Insolent, impertinent—”

“They’re just trying to fill air,” Emerald murmured apologetically.

“I am no petty criminal!” Cinder cried, jabbing her finger in the direction of the scroll as she got up from her chair and began to pace up and down. “I am Cinder Fall, I am half a Maiden, I am fear and fire and foe, and I will not be made light of by a pair of bloviating halfwits from a commentator’s booth! They should stick to stating what we can all quite plainly see with our own eyes. Hundreds of years, Emerald, the noble traditions of the arena have endured without the need for commentators or a punditocracy; now we cannot watch but we must endure the opinions of these two learned professors. 'Petty.' Really?”

“They were probably talking about Torchwick,” Emerald offered.

Cinder snorted. “They will learn their lesson soon enough,” she declared, still pacing up and down, her slippers tapping on the floor. “Call me petty, the nerve of it!”

“We, and all of you, will find out soon enough,” Professor Port said. “But before then, as we wait for the thrilling match, time for some messages from our sponsors.”

The image of Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck up in the commentator’s box dissolved and was replaced by a video of a clean-cut man, looking a little overdressed in a jacket and shirt — but no tie — as he stood in a hospital room, beside the bedside of a woman holding a kicking, squirming baby in her arms.

A guitar began to play over the soundtrack, and a voice began to sing slowly.

“All the small things,

True care, truth brings…”

Short clips briefly flashed across the screen — the man watching the baby crawling around on the floor of a family home, clapping delightedly as a little girl took her first steps out in the garden, dropping her off at school — all of them intercut with images of the same man, getting gradually older but never appearing to change his clothes, walking down the same street somewhere in Mistral.

A man in a hoodie, hood up to conceal his face, stepped out in front of him with a knife as the music slowed.

The camera lingered on the knife as the man in the hoodie brandished.

And the man in the suit pulled out a gun that had been sitting concealed beneath his jacket and shot him.

The music returned as the camera now lingered upon the MARS lettering upon the barrel of the black pistol.

A clip of the man watching his daughter’s graduation gave way to what was, even without any dialogue, obviously the daughter bringing a boyfriend home to meet her father.

Her father who was ostentatiously cleaning some of his wall of MARS firearms.

Until the prospective boyfriend pulled back his own jacket to reveal that he, too, was carrying a pistol on his hip.

The father nodded approvingly.

“MARS,” came a deep voice in voiceover, as the image transformed to a joyous wedding day, and then finally a return to the hospital room for the birth of a grandchild. “By your side, for all life’s moments.”

Sunset blinked. “I … what was that?”

“That was the MARS Vytal Tournament advertisement,” Pyrrha explained. “They release a special one each festival; some people look forward to it a great deal.”

“Huh,” Ruby said. “You’d have thought that an advert for an arms dealer would have had more actual weapons.”

“I suppose they wanted to highlight what the weapons represent,” Pyrrha replied. “Safety and security.”

“It was pretty wholesome,” Ruby conceded.

“The slogan is a bit vacuous though,” Sunset said. “‘By your side for all life’s moments’; that doesn’t mean anything!”

“Hey, Pyrrha, it’s you!” Jaune said, pointing up at the screen, which was now showing … a Pumpkin Peter advertisement.

“Oh no,” Pyrrha murmured, wondering if she would be best off putting her head in her hands. She remembered filming this, and she doubted it had gotten any better since.

“Psst! Pyrrha!”

Pyrrha looked around in the direction of the fortunate distraction: Medea Helios stood on one of the staircases running up the many levels of the bleachers, the hood of her dark blue shawl down, beckoning to Pyrrha with one slender hand.

Pyrrha would have embraced practically anything that meant she didn’t have to watch that awful advert — she had been glad to be the face of the cereal, but doing the television side had confirmed that she was not cut out for acting — so she stood up and excused herself as she sidled in front of Jaune and Ruby and those other spectators who sat between her and the staircase.

Apologising as she went, she gained the stairs, where Medea descended a step to put herself beneath Pyrrha.

“I’m very grateful to be summoned like that,” Pyrrha informed her, “though I am a little curious as to why. Shouldn’t you be preparing for your match?”

“Time enough for that, Lady Pyrrha, time enough,” Medea said lightly. “In the meantime.” She turned downwards, and near the bottom of the steps Pyrrha could now see the rest of her team waiting: Atalanta, Meleager, and Jason.

With the same hand that she had used to beckon Pyrrha towards her, Medea now imperiously gestured towards her teammates.

Neither Jason nor Meleager quite met Pyrrha’s eyes as they climbed up the steps towards her. They had both grown up since the three of them had trained under Chiron, even as Pyrrha had herself; some might even say that they had grown into handsome young men, although Pyrrha herself preferred slightly softer features in a boy. Jason was square jawed, his dark hair cropped short atop his head, his golden eyes looking anywhere but at Pyrrha; Meleager’s hair was a dark brown, but longer and curly, a well-tended bush surrounding his head, and his eyes were smouldering coals of dull red.

Jason wore a leather cuirass, Meleager’s was linothorax of fiery red; in neither case did it prevent them from bowing at the waist.

Jason coughed into his hand to clear his throat. “Lady Pyrrha,” he said. “I … we … owe you an apology.”

“That was many years ago,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Nevertheless,” Meleager murmured. “It was … we were a pair of little twats.”

Pyrrha had not expected him to phrase it in quite that way. Her eyebrows rose up to meet her gleaming circlet, as her mouth formed a slight O of surprise.

Meleager shrugged. “It’s true, no?”

Pyrrha hesitated. “You were children,” she said. “We were all children.”

“You didn’t try to poison us,” Meleager pointed out.

“Our jealousy was unbecoming,” Jason murmured.

Pyrrha didn’t bother to deny that. They were absolutely right; it had been unbecoming of them both.

But at the same time, she had no desire to hold a grudge over it. She did not hold a grudge over it, she scarcely thought of it; it was merely something that had happened to her some time ago. A thing of little consequence.

“Apology accepted,” she said, smiling down at them.

Jason closed his eyes and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lady Pyrrha,” he said. “You are most gracious.”

“And we are most grateful,” Meleager added.

“There,” Medea said, “now that wasn’t so hard, was it, boys?”

Jason glanced at Meleager, and then at Medea. “No,” he admitted. “No, it wasn’t.”

Medea chuckled. “A gracious apology will always be accepted by a gracious person. Thank you, Lady Pyrrha; that is a great relief to them and me. But now I’m afraid we have to go; we must prepare to beat your Atlesian friends.”

“You may not find that so easy,” Pyrrha warned.

A smirk crossed Medea’s purple-painted lips. “They may not find it so easy to beat us either, Lady Pyrrha.” She snapped her fingers as she turned away. “Come along, dearest, and you, Meleager. Battle awaits us, after all.”

Pyrrha watched them go, then sidled back into her seat, apologising as she went as she stepped in front of people on the way, looking down to avoid legs and holding onto her sash so that it didn’t get caught on anything.

“Who were they?” asked Applejack as she returned to her seat.

“They,” Pyrrha said, “were Team Rosepetal's opponents.”

“Oh, goodness,” Fluttershy murmured. “What did they want?”

“To apologise to me for an insult long past,” Pyrrha said. “It’s a long story; you wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Are they any good, darling?” asked Rarity.

“Not as good as Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie declared.

Pyrrha considered for a moment. “Jason and Meleager both trained under a very well-regarded master,” she said, neglecting to mention that she had trained under that same master. “Medea and Atalanta, I have not seen fight, but Haven selected its Vytal competitors by battle, so … they cannot be wholly without skill.”

Rainbow Dash pulled her sweat bands over her hands to her wrists, then followed up by pulling a pair of fingerless gloves on over her hands. “You know,” she said. “I don’t really see why they can’t move the lockers up to the Colosseum while the tournament is on. Then we could just arm up and move out instead of having to arm ourselves then fly up to the arena.”

“Because that’s such a hardship,” Twilight murmured.

“Yeah, I know, but it would be convenient,” Rainbow said, as she pulled the Wings of Harmony out from her locker and started buckling them across her chest.

Ciel took her Distant Thunder out of her own locker. She extended it for a moment — in a direction so that it was not pointing at anybody — and checked the sights. “On the other hand, their presence there would be inconvenient if we were attacked on the ground. We need our weapons here in case we need our weapons here. Tautology, but true.”

She checked the chamber, then collapsed her weapon into its more portable form and slung it across her back.

“I guess, though if we get attacked, we’re going to have more troubles than just waiting a little longer for our lockers,” Rainbow muttered.

She pulled out Brutal Honesty and Plane Awesome and checked both of them weren’t already loaded before she proceeded to load them both and sling them into the holsters at her hips. She looked at Undying Loyalty, nestled cosily at the back of the locker. It was tempting, but there was a strict - mostly strict, you could bundle up disposal throwing weapons so they only counted as one; sadly the same didn’t apply to guns - two-weapon rule at the Vytal Festival, and she was already testing the spirit of the rules with her wings and two guns.

She slammed her locker door shut. “Okay, team. Is everyone ready?”

Twilight’s armour spread up her body like a living thing until it had completely subsumed her within it. “Ready,” her voice echoed out from behind the helmet.

“I am armed and well prepared,” Ciel said.

Penny, of course, didn’t have to get anything out of her locker and had simply been sitting quietly in the locker room waiting for the rest of them to be done. She got to her feet. “Combat ready.”

“Awesome,” Rainbow said. She looked over them, her team. Hers to lead, hers to protect, hers to take pride in. “Okay everyone, listen up because I’ve got something to say.”

They all looked at her. At least Penny and Ciel both looked at her; it was a little hard to tell what Twilight was looking at because that armour covered up her face.

Still, Twilight was probably looking at her; she wasn’t the kind to look anywhere else.

Rainbow took a couple of steps towards the rest of them, and as she walked, she gathered her thoughts and turned them into words. Speeches for tournaments or other sporting events were a little different than pre-battle speeches; they were a little less … formulaic. Or at least they could be; there was no saying that you couldn’t give a formulaic speech before a tournament or an exhibition match, but you didn’t have to use quite the same formula.

Leadership class had even spelled out why that was the case: because nobody was going to die in a tournament and everyone knew that, and so there was no reason to be scared in the same way that creeping dread would steal upon you before a battle or terror grip you at the moment when the fighting started. No, before a tournament, with it all, ultimately, in good fun, you didn’t have to worry about acknowledging people’s fears or the dangers of the situation because there weren’t any. You could just go for it and gin up as much enthusiasm as you could get.

But at the same time … it was the beginning of the end, wasn’t it? And it would have felt strange not to acknowledge that just a little bit.

“This team,” Rainbow said, “has not been … it hasn’t quite worked out the way that it was supposed to. Twilight … well, you’re getting a lab from General Ironwood, so I guess this all worked out pretty well for you in the end.”

Twilight’s visor retracted, revealing her face. “I’m honestly trying not to think about that too hard.”

“Why not?” Rainbow asked. “It’s great news for you and for Atlas.” She looked at Penny. “Penny, I hope you find what you're looking for at Beacon next year.” She paused a moment. “Ciel … I don’t know what the future holds for either of us, but if I have any say in the matter at all, I would be honoured to continue serving alongside you.”

Ciel did not respond right away. She was silent, and still, and a bit of a statue, kind of. Finally, she said, “You … have not been so bad a team leader as I feared you might be. I, too, would be amenable to continuing our relationship.”

Rainbow nodded. “Glad to hear it,” she said. “And, as the life of this team comes to a close, I think it’s fair to say that whatever issues we might have had, our combat performance hasn’t been part of the problem. We’ve beat the White Fang, we’ve beat grimm, we took down Torchwick, and whatever Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck might say, all of that is way harder than winning a fight in the Amity Colosseum.”

“I think they were just saying that to keep the crowd on the edge of their seats,” Twilight murmured.

“Whyever they did it, it was insulting,” Rainbow declared. “This team might be ending soon, but before this team actually comes to an end, I want us to bring the curtain down with some victories that we and Atlas can be proud of, with the whole of Remnant watching. And I’m going to be honest with you all: Atlas could use a win right now.”

It wasn’t just Team APDT that had been taken out; before that, Team VERT had been torn a new one by Team UMBR of Shade — of Shade Academy! The barbarians really were at the gates — without yet managing a win. Atlas was zero for two, and not even against Beacon, which wouldn’t have been great but would have been better than being two down against the perennial also-rans at the start of the tournament.

“We are zero for two, and I don’t know about the rest of you,” Rainbow said, “but I am not going to let it be zero for three. Not me, not this team. We are not going to embarrass General Ironwood like that, we are not going to embarrass Atlas like that, and we are not going to embarrass ourselves like that! I don’t know what the problem was with Team Aspidistra or Team Verte, but this is Team Rosepetal, and we have chewed up and spat out everybody who has come to play with us! Atlas is counting on us to uphold the honour of the school and the kingdom; our classmates are counting on us to win back all our rights to hold our heads up high and be proud to wear the whites. General Ironwood is counting on us to save him some face today.

“Team Jasmine … I’ve looked at their files. They’re not bad. If they were that bad, they wouldn’t be here, but you know what they’re not? They’re not us. They haven’t faced what we’ve faced, been through what we’ve been through, fought the battles that we’ve fought. We can do this. I know we can do this. So who’s ready to get out there and win one for the General?”

“YES!” they cried, raising their fists in the air.

“Then let’s get out there and get it done!” Rainbow declared, as she turned to lead the way.

To their last campaign.

“So, this is it,” said Vice Principal Luna, sitting with her sister in Celestia’s office, watching Celestia’s propped-up scroll on the desk as they both waited for the match to start. She took a sip of tea. “Canterlot’s favourite daughter takes the stage.”

“Do you mean Rainbow Dash or Twilight?” Celestia asked amusedly.

Luna chuckled. “It brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Celestia nodded. “It certainly does.”

Her eyes strayed to a photograph on her desk, not far from her scroll: a photograph of herself and her sister in their younger days, taken just after they’d won their match in the two vs. two round.

She still thought that Luna had been unlucky against Qrow in the singles. Her gaze left that photograph and went to the wall, to the picture of Rainbow Dash and her friends that hung there along with other photographs of those students of whom Celestia was especially proud.

“And now a new generation takes their moment in the sun,” Celestia said. “One day, it will be the turn of Rainbow and Twilight to watch TV and feel nostalgic for days gone by.”

“One can only hope they last that long,” Luna murmured darkly.

“Yes,” Celestia said. “We can hope.”

“Atlas isn’t doing so hot so far, huh?” Juturna said as she took a fistful of popcorn out of the tub and stuffed it into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out like those of a squirrel as she chewed on it.

“No,” Turnus murmured. “No, they are not.”

“No one can win all battles; they have had ill luck, as anyone might,” Camilla said. “Haven, on the other hand, had a stroke of good fortune; that is no guarantee it will continue on.”

“'Good fortune'?” Turnus asked.

“Team Sun lacked any coordination or teamwork,” Camilla declared. “They were fortunate.”

“You think so?” Turnus asked. “I thought that Sun Wukong and Neptune Vasilias worked together well enough.”

“But Scarlet David and Sage Ayana worked together with them not at all,” Camilla replied. “They were like two teams of two loosely allied against a common enemy, rather than a single team of four.”

Juturna said something that was too indistinct to make out, a wordless mumble accompanied by bits of popcorn falling out of her mouth to land on Turnus’ lap.

He swept them away onto the floor with one hand. “Swallow first,” he said.

Juturna rolled her eyes, then swallowed. “But they still won,” she said. “Which means if you're right, then the Atlesian team must have really sucked.”

“That…” Camilla paused a moment. “Yes, it does imply a greater lack of skill on their parts that they could not leverage the situation.”

“Atlas will turn things around, I have no doubt,” Turnus said. “Although, if they do not … I suppose it might be pleasant to see Haven on a winning streak for once.”

“Off to a great start, huh?” Swift Foot said.

Terri-Belle’s response was a wordless mumbling sound.

Swift Foot frowned. “Are you actually watching this, or is your mind still in your office with all of your paperwork?”

“Half of it is,” Terri-Belle admitted.

Swift Foot rolled her eyes. “Come on, relax! Try and enjoy yourself! It’s the Vytal Tournament; everyone is taking the day off, from the lowliest peasant to the wealthiest merchant.”

“I think the lowliest peasant may be scraping to survive as they always have,” Terri-Belle muttered, “and I doubt the shepherd in the fields is taking the day off to watch the tournament for the simple reason that the wolf and the bear are not taking the day off from preying on the flock. Our enemies are not resting; I—”

“Can go back to your desk when there isn’t a Haven team or Pyrrha competing, how’s that?” Swift Foot suggested. “I’ll come get you when it’s an important match coming up.”

“A Haven match is not necessarily an important match,” Terri-Belle said, her leg twitching as though she wanted to leap up from her seat already. “I think Atlas will pull back a triumph in this next battle.”

“You don’t think Haven can keep up this run of success?”

Terri-Belle looked at her as though she had just said something slightly imbecilic.

Swift Foot sighed. “Okay, I know, it’s Haven, but this team has two people trained by Chiron himself—”

“And what is it really worth to be trained by Chiron?” asked Terri-Belle.

Swift Foot blinked rapidly, not really knowing how she ought to respond to that. “I … I mean, he trained you, didn’t he? And trained you well?”

“Yes,” Terri-Belle said. “Yes, he did, and from him, I learned many things, yet that alone was not enough to carry me to glory, nor did it enable me to kill the scorpion who has been hunting our huntsmen and huntresses. To have been trained by Chiron, to be given an honour band by him, it grants no power to me, nor any other pupil of his. Jason and Meleager have been well taught, they could have no finer instructor, but … who taught Sun Wukong? A Vacuan by birth, someone with no name and no connections, and yet, he led his team to triumph. Why?”

Swift Foot thought about it. “Because … he’s good?”

“Because he is hungry,” Terri-Belle corrected her. “Because he knows that he has nothing but his skill and drive to prove himself and earn his place. I … I sometimes fear that we old families, or even provincial gentry like the House of Helios or Aetolis, are too … complacent, too cosseted by our old names, our history, our inherited wealth. We have so much to fall back on, so much to grease our paths in life, that we lack the edge of those who have no recourse but to fight for all they have.”

“We’re supposed to earn what we have through service to the kingdom and the people,” Swift Foot pointed out.

“'Supposed to' indeed,” Terri-Belle said. “But do we?”

“You do,” Swift Foot said. “And I will, and … and if you’re right, then how do you explain Pyrrha Nikos? If you’re right, then why hasn’t Arslan Altan from the lower slopes won the regional tournament?”

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. “You may be right,” she admitted. “I suppose … we will just have to see what happens in this next match.”

“So, your girl’s up next,” Veil observed. “One of your girls, anyway.”

“Yep,” Leaf agreed. “This next match is going to be awesome.”

“You think she’ll win?”

Leaf looked at her. “Do I— yes. Yes, I think she’ll win, I know it. Rainbow Dash is going to kick ass. She took down the entirety of SDC security; beating four other students isn’t going to be any problem at all.”

“Scootaloo, why have you got your scroll up like that?” Apple Bloom asked. “You’re going to miss Rainbow’s first match.”

“No, I won’t; I’m using the camera function,” Scootaloo said. “I can see everything going on through my scroll.”

“Why don’t you try seeing it through your eyes?” Apple Bloom suggested.

“Because she needs to take pictures for her Rainbow Dash scrapbook, right?” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yep,” Scootaloo said, nodding along. “I can’t not have pictures of Rainbow’s Vytal fights in there.”

“Did you just say ‘Rainbow Dash scrapbook’?” asked Sunset.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo said enthusiastically. “I don’t have it with me right now, but I can show it to you sometime if you like.”

Sunset was silent for a second. “I hope she understands how lucky she is,” she said.

“Thank you for joining me, Lady Belladonna,” Cadance said, rising from her seat to welcome the other woman.

Kali smiled. “Please, Councillor Cadenza, call me Kali.”

“Only if you call me Cadance,” Cadance said, returning Kali’s smile with one of her own. “Please, sit down.”

Kali did so, taking the seat next to Cadance. “This is … a lot more private than I expected.”

Cadance currently had one of the boxes at the top of the coliseum all to herself, with the remaining ten seats currently lying vacant, although Shining Armor was standing in front of one of them as he stood guard behind her, and the rest of her security detail was taking up a little space as well.

“Yes, it’s a privilege of my position,” she said. “And a sad necessity.” There was a part of her that would rather be watching down in the stands with Twilight’s friends, but that was the kind of security nightmare that she would never be allowed to indulge in. And so here she was, exiled to the upper boxes which only the wealthiest could afford. “The view is not the greatest, but you’ll find the refreshment selection on the right arm of your chair very comprehensive.”

“And complimentary?”

“Of course,” Cadance said lightly. She handed Kali a set of opera glasses. “You might need these.”

“Thank you,” Kali said. “Although I think Blake might prefer it if I didn’t see her fight. Not that I intend to take any notice of what she wants in this instance.” She glanced at Shining Armour. “Not dressed like your other bodyguards?”

“He’s my husband,” Cadance said. “He’s just overprotective.”

“Ma’am,” Shining Armour said to Kali.

“I see,” Kali said. She grinned. “Nothing like having a big, strapping man around the house to make a woman feel safe, is there? But I doubt you asked me to join you simply to show me your fine husband or treat me to complimentary refreshments.”

“General Ironwood might be joining us, as and when and if his duties permit; I trust that isn’t a problem.”

“I have no quarrel with the Atlesian military,” Kali said. “I always felt it was Atlas that had a quarrel with us.”

“Something we can discuss,” Cadance said. “I asked you to join me so that we could talk in private. Although not perhaps during this match. I don’t want to miss a second of this.”

The cheers of the crowd echoed down from the rising banks of seats that rose up all around the circumference of Amity Arena. They echoed down upon Team RSPT as they made their way into the arena, walking across what were currently blank, featureless modules, mere metal sheets, a white latticework criss-crossed with grey beams. Once the battle began, the featureless flat would disappear and be replaced by the terrain over which the battle would be fought, but for now, it was a flat surface for the two teams to cross to the hexagon in the very centre of the ring.

Team RSPT made their way into the centre of the arena from the north, while the Mistralian Team JAMM made their way in from the south, until they were both standing in the hexagon, lined up and facing one another.

The voices of the crowd were dissolved into an unintelligible mass of noise, in the same way that Rainbow couldn’t make out any faces, just a load of people in the distance. But she could — and she would swear to this — make out Pinkie’s voice, rising high-pitched above all the others to cheer her on.

It put a smile on Rainbow’s face as the two teams faced each other.

“As I understand,” said one of the female members of Team JAMM, Medea Helios, the one who was hiding her face under the hood of her cloak and the gilded skull of a ram worn like a helmet, “you four are friends of Lady Pyrrha.”

“Pyrrha?” Penny repeated. “Yes, we’re friends of Pyrrha.”

Medea chuckled. “Don’t expect us to go easy on you on her account.”

Penny blinked. “I … I don’t understand; why—?”

“They’re trying to make us angry to put us off balance,” Rainbow said. “Don’t expect us to go easy on you either, for Pyrrha’s sake or any other reason.”

The other girl on their team, Atalanta Calydon, snorted, “The way these two have behaved, Lady Pyrrha would probably thank you for going rough on us.”

“Ugh,” said Jason Chrysomallos, the team leader. “Atalanta, that sounds like an innuendo.”

Atlanta wrinkled her nose. “It does?”

“Yes, yes, I’m afraid it does,” Jason muttered.

“Oh,” Atalanta said. “Well, it wasn’t meant to.”

Professor Port’s voice boomed out across the arena. “Team Rosepetal of Atlas!”

The cheers from the sections of the stands most occupied by Atlesians and their supporters were redoubled as the names of the RSPT members flashed up on the board, showing all their aura levels as being in the green.

“Versus Team Jasmine of Haven!” This time, the cheers rose from the Haven sections, as the names of the huntsmen of JAMM appeared opposite the Rosepetals and allowed Rainbow to start putting names to the faces confronting her team.

Jason Chrysomallos, the leader, didn’t look like he shaved as much as he should; maybe he was trying to grow a beard, but if he was, it wasn’t really working out for him. His cuirass was uncoloured brown leather, and he wore a golden fleece down his back like a cape, with the ram’s skull with its two golden horns acting like a kind of helmet. He had a short sword in one hand and a large round shield — larger than Pyrrha’s, maybe as much as twice the size — in the other.

Atalanta Calydon was a bear faunus, with claws where her fingernails ought to have been; that didn’t stop her holding a bow in her hand with an arrow fitted to string. She was wearing a white tunic that stopped just above her knees, and her chestnut hair was cut short above the shoulders. Around her neck, she wore a loose necklace of boar tusks on a string. Brown sandals wound around her feet and ankles, and brown fingerless gloves covered most of her hands. Beside her bow, she had a long knife with a bone handle with a pommel carved in the shape of a lioness’ head, and hanging from her belt by a pair of brown strings was a single, simple-looking brown pouch.

Rainbow wondered if she had dust crystals in there.

Medea Helios wore a light purple dress that was kind of narrow but at the same time looked loose enough that it wouldn’t get in her way if she tried to move; over the dress, she was wearing a dark green cloak with the hood up, and over that, she was following the lead of her team leader in wearing a golden fleece, with the skull resting on top of her head like a cap or a helmet and casting a shadow over her so that between that and the cloak, the only thing that was visible was her chin and her lips, which were painted blue. Rainbow couldn’t see a weapon on her, but then, she couldn’t see her hands either, so she must be hiding the weapon in the long sleeves of her dress the same way.

Meleager Aetolis had dark hair that was long and curly; it surrounded his head in ringlets like a tangled bush. Like his team leader, he was trying to grow a beard, and like his team leader, he was ending up less in ‘beard’ and more in ‘forgot to or couldn’t be bothered to shave.’ His cuirass was a fiery red, and so was the cloak that fell down his back, except for the hem where it was trimmed with a fiery yellow. He had a brilliant red spear in his hand which, judging by its look, Rainbow guessed transformed into something else, while he was wearing a vambrace on his right arm that had a gun mounted onto it on the outside. No, not a gun; a miniature flamethrower if Rainbow as any judge, going by what looked like a little dust canister hooked up to it by a tube strapped around his arm. He looked a bit off balance, he kept looking at his off-hand, and Rainbow guessed that he usually had a shield and probably another vambrace with a second flamethrower, but that he had had to leave them both behind due to the Vytal tournament’s two-weapon rule.

Them’s the breaks, thought Rainbow, her thoughts briefly flying downwards to where Undying Loyalty waited in her locker.

“Both teams, prepare for battle!” Professor Port commanded as the sound of the crowd was redoubled.

Both teams readied their weapons: Rainbow drew her pistols and aimed them at Meleager, who brandished his spear at her; Ciel aimed her rifle at Medea; Penny brought Floating Array out of her back, the swords circling around her head like a halo, all pointed at Atalanta, who responded by aiming her bow at Penny; Jason stepped into a guard, his shield held before him, while Twilight did not react at all.

All around the edges of the arena, the terrain indicators began to light up, cycling between the different options available like the cherries and pineapples on a slot machine: woods, mountains, desert, all flipped past until the icons behind RSPT landed on a symbol that Rainbow didn’t recognise until a set of urban ruins, all shattered buildings and broken walls that looked as though it had been bombed out, rose up behind them.

A rocky desert, dominated by a vast and towered mountain of brown rock, arose behind Team JAMM.

“Three,” Doctor Oobleck’s voice boomed across the arena. “Two … one. Begin!”

Distant Thunder boomed as Ciel took the first shot, but the members of Team JAMM had already scattered, dodging and diving as they ran … backwards? They were retreating already, running towards the cover of the rocks that littered the desert sand in the shadow of the mountain, zig-zagging as they went so that neither Ciel’s thunderous rounds nor the laser fire from Floating Array could quite hit them.

Actually, that wasn’t quite true; Penny managed to wing Atalanta on the shoulder and knock her down for a moment, but it didn’t stop the others running, and once she got up — minus a good slice of her aura – it didn’t stop her from running either.

Rainbow’s first impulse was to pursue, but though that impulse screamed at her, she resisted it. She resisted it because it was likely to get at least some of her team taken out, and even in a mock battle, that was something that she’d prefer to avoid if at all possible. JAMM were running not because they’d been forced to but because they’d decided to. That meant that they had a plan.

“Back!” Rainbow ordered, because if JAMM had a plan, she wanted to find out what it was from a safer position than standing out in the open in the middle of the battlefield. “Fall back to cover!”

“Oho, what’s this?” Professor Port asked, as sections of the crowd started booing at the sight of Team RSPT emulating JAMM and breaking behind them for the cover of the urban ruins. “Are both teams running away from each other?”

“I can’t decide if he’s playing for the crowd or demonstrating his lack of fitness to be a teacher,” Ciel muttered barely above her breath as she leapt over a low wall and took cover behind it. The rest of the team did likewise.

“What do we do now?” Penny asked as she got halfway to curling up into a ball like a hedgehog behind a particularly low patch of ruined wall.

“If anyone sticks their head above cover, shoot them,” Rainbow said. “Like her!” she said, pointing at Medea who had just risen to her feet. Rainbow had to duck as Atalanta loosed a fire dust arrow in her direction. It flew over Rainbow’s head and exploded brightly but harmlessly.

The powerful desert sun — yes, the desert biome came complete with its own sun, because this coliseum did nothing by halves — was in their eyes, but between Rainbow’s magenta goggles, the fact that Penny had photoreceptors instead of eyes if you wanted to be technical, and Twilight’s armour, the only one who was really in trouble from the bright sunlight was Ciel; and even Ciel had a one-eyed visor covering her shooting eye. If JAMM were relying on the sun to blind RSPT, they had another thing coming.

Which was probably why they seemed to be relying on Atalanta’s arrows to keep their heads down while Medea did whatever it was she was doing.

Medea raised her hands. Penny fired at her with three of her swords, green bolts streaking across the arena towards her. Jason threw himself between Medea and the fire, raising his shield as all three laser bolts struck it more or less in the centre, hurling him backwards into the mountain.

But by then, it was too late.

Rainbow’s eyes widened as skeletons began to rise out of the ground in the centre of the arena. No, she wasn’t lying, and she wasn’t exaggerating. Actual skeletons with swords and round metal shields were popping out of the ground. A couple of them had spears, but for most of them, it was sword and shield as they rose one after the other in the centre of the arena, surrounded by a ghostly blue light that made them look even creepier than the fact that they were skeletons would have.

Is this her semblance? What kind of a creepy person has a semblance like this?

Ciel shot one of the skeletons, blowing it to smithereens with a single shot of Distant Thunder, but another skeleton simply rose out of the ground to take its place.

The skeletons, sixteen in total, stared at RSPT out of their lifeless sockets. Then, slowly, they began to advance, marching forwards in regimented unison with their swords and shields held useless by their sides.

Ciel fired again; another skeleton was blown to pieces before a replacement rose out of the floor. Then, with a blood-curdling scream, they charged, shields held before them and swords and spears brandished above their heads.

Rainbow fired, spraying bullets from both pistols into the midst of the skeletal horde. Ciel kept shooting; Twilight thrust her armoured fists forward, blasters emerging out of the vambraces to fire purple beams into the skeletal horde; Penny rose up from behind cover with all her swords retracted into carbines as bolt after bolt erupted out of every fang of Floating Array. But every skeleton that was knocked down picked itself back up again, and every skeleton that had its head knocked off simply stumbled about for a moment until it found its head and put it back on again; and for every skeleton that was completely destroyed, another rose out of the centre of the arena to take its place and charge towards Team RSPT. And they were getting closer all the time.

“Logic dictates that if we defeat Medea, then these creations of her semblance will disappear,” Ciel said as she blew one away.

Rainbow had emptied the mags in both her pistols. She reloaded but held her fire. “Okay,” she said, “here’s what we’re going to do: Penny, you are going to hold this position and keep those skeletons tied down; Ciel, fall back to high ground and give me covering fire while I get over there and take out Medea; once I’ve done that, you’ll continue to provide cover while Penny joins me for our counterattack. Twilight … stay here with Penny.”

Twilight sounded almost amused. “Got it.”

“Does everyone else get it?” Rainbow asked.

“Understood,” Ciel said.

“Penny?”

Penny nodded. “Got it. I can do this.”

“I know you can,” Rainbow replied. “Okay, we’ve got this, so let’s get it done! Ciel, move!”

Ciel broke cover, turning and running towards the two-storey building, or at least the reasonable facsimile of what had once been a two-storey building that was, in the end, just a couple of walls and the remains of two floors stacked one on top of the other. Nevertheless, it was the highest ground on their side of the battlefield, and Ciel ran towards it, her skirt leaping up and down as her legs pumped, Distant Thunder rising and falling like a ship on rough seas. As Rainbow saw her leap up onto the first floor, Rainbow herself started to retreat, backing away from the skeletons, leaving them to Penny, who was fencing with the closest ones with some of her swords while using a few others as carbines still to keep shooting at the more distant manifestations of Medea’s semblance.

She left Twilight too.

“Twilight?” Rainbow said.

“Go, go on,” Twilight said, as her left gauntlet began to project a lavender shield in front of her. “Win one for the General.”

Rainbow took a deep breath. It’s only a mock battle. She took another step backwards and unfurled her Wings of Harmony.

As the metal feathers spread out around her, Rainbow took to the skies.

She soared upwards, over the ruins and the desert both, dodging an arrow loosed at her by Atalanta as she rose, rising close to the edge of the forcefield that surrounded the battlefield and protected the spectators from any stray bullets or arrows or flying contestants being flung out of the ring. If the arena was its own little world, then Rainbow Dash flew to the top of the sky before she began to descend, like a shower of bombs dropped from an Atlesian cruiser, straight towards Team JAMM.

Ciel gained the upper storey of the ruined building — fortunately, it didn’t feel like it was about to collapse beneath her feet, despite the lack of supporting walls — and crouched down at the edge of the wall, putting Distant Thunder to her shoulder and lowering her eye to see the battlefield through the scope.

Through the scope, where everything was so simple.

She could see Rainbow Dash descending. Jason and Meleager were getting ready to defend Medea, but she could certainly … why was Atalanta breaking off?

The bear faunus girl had loosed a few arrows at Rainbow Dash as she flew, but now she was running away from Rainbow Dash, abandoning her three teammates and running towards Penny and Twilight — and Ciel.

She stopped, nocking two arrows in quick succession and shooting them upwards towards Ciel, who had to scramble aside along the rooftop not to be struck by them.

Ciel raised her rifle scope to her eye again. This battle had been filled with manoeuvres that seemed strange — the retreat of JAMM, the retreat of RSPT, even her and Rainbow’s actions at first — all of which had been part of a plan to achieve victory. It would be foolish in the extreme to assume that Atalanta’s behaviour did not stand in the same line.

She, then, was Ciel’s target, and she seemed to be aware of the fact by the way that she was dodging, diving, darting this way and then that, never moving in a straight line, never staying in the same place.

Precognition On!

If anyone had been standing close by, and not distracted by the battle raging all around, they would have seen Ciel’s eyes turn a brighter and more brilliant blue.

Thanks to her semblance, Future Echo, she could see not only what was but what would be, she could see where Atalanta would move before she moved there, and more importantly, she could shoot her there.

She tracked, not Atlanta’s movements, but the echo of her movements, the sight of where she would be when Ciel’s bullet struck.

She fired, Distant Thunder roaring.

Atlanta was hit in the chest and hurled backwards, and through her scope, Ciel could appreciate the look of surprise on her face as she was hit despite her efforts to prevent it, tossed backwards out of the central hexagon and into the sands of the desert biome.

Ciel worked the bolt of Distant Thunder, and a large cartridge case thumped down onto the roof beside her.

“It seems that Ciel Soleil has activated her semblance!” Professor Port declared. “This allows her to perceive the future movements of her adversaries and target not their present locations, but their future one.”

Thank you for revealing my secret, Professor, Ciel thought. There were certain students who had opted out of consideration for the Vytal Tournament because when they faced someone in battle, they didn’t want them to know everything that they could do from seeing it on television.

Ciel was beginning to understand their position.

Especially since it wasn’t only the audience at home who could hear the commentary, but Atalanta.

The Mistralian huntress leapt to her feet and launched a flurry of arrows towards Ciel’s position, the blur of her swift motions seeming even blurrier by the fact that Ciel was seeing not only her current movements but her future ones as well. Arrows leapt from the string of her bow, and the fact that Ciel could see where those arrows were going to land did not free her from the necessity of evading them, and it was Ciel’s turn to play the leapfrog as she darted this way and that, avoiding the flight of this dart and then another as they landed here and there, striking the roof. Some of them, Ciel could see, were primed with fire dust, and it was necessary for her to momentarily vacate the top floor lest she be blown off it in any case by the explosions which she had foreseen. Once they had exploded, harmlessly, and conscious that she could only sustain her semblance for so long — her best record before her aura entered the red was three minutes — Ciel leapt back up onto the roof to find that Atalanta was on the move again.

Ciel took aim at Atalanta’s future location. She could see the echo of her opponent reaching into her pouch and pulling out … something, it was too small to make out, but she would throw it towards Penny and the skeletal figures with whom she and Twilight were locked in combat.

Ciel fired.

Atalanta was struck, but not before she had thrown the object that Ciel could not make out. As Atalanta was hurled backwards again, her aura dropping into the deep yellow that was not far from red, that which she had thrown soared through the air, bounced and skidded along the ground and finally came to a halt not far from Penny’s feet.

It was a marble. It was an ordinary glass marble of dark … it was glowing. Before Ciel’s eyes, before all their eyes it was glowing. It was turning golden, as golden as … it was the most golden thing in the world, the most beautiful desirable thing in the world.

So beautiful that she could not take her eyes off it.

“And now it is the turn of Atalanta Calydon to use her semblance,” Professor Port said. “Now, this unique skill allows her to use some of her aura to imbue an object with glamourous properties.”

Penny wished they would both shut up, because they were both distracting her. Distracting her from the precious gem at her feet, the golden marble.

She didn’t care about anything else, certainly not the ethereal skeletons slashing at her or stabbing her, taking slices off her aura as they did so. What did that matter? What did her aura matter? What did any of it matter when there was this beautiful marble to look at?

To behold its gilded radiance was all that she…

All that she…

Wanted.

Wanted…

Wanted … what she…

What I want.

What I want is…

What I want … is to choose what I want!

I want to decide for myself!

Penny tore her eyes away from the golden marble. The spectral skeletons were all around her, hacking at her, stabbing her, taking her aura down. And two of them had brought Twilight down to the ground; she must have been distracted by the marble too — she still was; she didn’t seem to be reacting at all as her aura dropped lower and lower.

Penny moved her arms as best she could, sweeping her swords around to clear away the space, slashing the skeletal figures aside, batting them away with the combined strength of all her blades united.

Then she brought one foot down upon the golden marble, crushing it beneath her heel.

“What— what was…? Ahem, forgive us ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Port said. “It appears that we, too, were affected by Atalanta Calydon’s semblance.”

“Though it appears that Penny Polendina was not!” Doctor Oobleck declared. “How did she do it?”

“That’s a good question,” Sunset said, leaning forwards. “Could it be…?” She left the question unspoken, but lingering in the air nevertheless.

“Could it be what?” asked Pinkie.

Pyrrha didn’t answer her, but rather Sunset as she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s it. She was affected, you could see that, she was as affected as any of us.”

“But then she just wasn’t?” Ruby said.

“I wonder,” Pyrrha murmured. She began to smile.

“Wonder what?” asked Pinkie.

“I wonder,” Pyrrha repeated, “if Penny might have found her semblance.”

Ciel blinked rapidly as she shook her head. What … what had—?

“…by Atalanta Calydon’s semblance.”

Ah, yes of course.

“Though it appears that Penny Polendina was not! How did she do it?”

Thank you, Penny, Ciel thought; she would ponder the whys later; for now—

She took aim at Atalanta, who appeared somewhat stunned by the way that Penny had just resisted her semblance.

Ciel took the shot before she could recover.

Distant Thunder roared angrily.

Atalanta’s aura broke as she was tossed like a ragdoll across the sands.

“And that’s our first elimination of the match as Atalanta Calydon’s aura is depleted!” cried Professor Port. “First blood to Team Rosepetal!”

Rainbow Dash dropped down feet first, falling from the skies as her wings folded neatly back into the jetpack with a series of clicks and clanks and rattles of shifting metal.

Jason and Meleager both moved to cover Medea, and as they did so, Meleager raised his vambrace, and, yep, it was a flamethrower, which Rainbow could astutely determine from the way that it sprayed fire upwards in a cone of crimson towards her.

Rainbow shielded her face with her arms, crossing them in front of her; yes, the flames licked at her aura, she could feel the heat all around her as the fires engulfed her, sure it wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but she knew that she had enough aura to withstand the flames, easy.

Just like she knew she had enough aura for an aura boom.

Rainbow hit the ground wreathed in flame, a fiery comet dropping out of the heavens, and like a comet, she hit the ground with force. Her knees buckled to a crouch, she landed one arm out, but with the other hand, she punched the ground beneath her as she made landfall, kicking up sand in all directions, throwing out a booming shockwave all around her which threw Jason and Meleager backwards and off their feet, arms flailing as they were tossed over the sands to land upon the backsides.

Leaving Medea wide open.

Rainbow didn’t give any of Team JAMM time to recover. Her target was right in front of her, and so she sprang forwards, a rainbow trailing after her as she streaked across the sands.

Medea fumbled in the baggy sleeves of her dress, producing a knife with a crooked blade that zig-zagged back and forth for some reason; she brandished it in front of her.

Rainbow came in fast, and as she closed, one hand shot out to grab Medea’s wrist and twist the dagger from her hand.

Medea winced in pain.

She did a lot more than wince as Rainbow drove her first into Medea’s stomach, making her bend double with a gasping oof at the same time as she was knocked backwards.

Rainbow hit her again, in the stomach once more with her other hand, then with her right again across the jaw, knocking the ram’s skull off her head as face snapped sideways. One more to the gut, lifting her up into the air and then an uppercut to send her flying as her aura dropped into the red.

“And Medea Helios becomes the second member of Team Jasmine to be eliminated!” Doctor Oobleck shouted, as the crowd went wild from the Atlas side of the stadium. “Can Team Jasmine turn this around with only two huntsmen left in contention?”

Not a chance, Doctor, Rainbow thought, as she turned on her toes, sand scraping beneath her feet, to face the last two members of Team JAMM.

They had both regained their feet, and now they closed on her from both sides. Meleager was aiming his flamethrower at her again.

Which was why Rainbow closed with Jason, the rainbow trail marking her semblance as she sped over the sands towards the leader of the enemy team.

She drew Brutal Honesty and Plane Awesome and fired them as she ran, firing one gun at Jason and the other at Meleager; she made Jason bring his shield up to cover his head, and she gave Meleager something to think about for a second.

Rainbow ploughed bodily into Jason, crashing into his shield, wrapping her left arm around it even as she aimed Brutal Honesty underneath it and held the trigger down, emptying the magazine into Jason’s stomach.

He shouted in pain and slashed at her face with his sword. Rainbow discarded her machine pistol and let go of his shield as she leaned backwards, letting his blade pass harmlessly over her head as she kicked him in the shin.

He was wearing greaves, decorated with more rams’ heads because why not, and so, Rainbow felt the blow through the aura around her foot, but Jason felt it too, because his leg buckled underneath him, and he dropped to one knee.

Rainbow straightened up and made to kick him in the head when she heard the roar of Distant Thunder, accompanied by the pulsing, hissing sounds of Penny’s lasers all firing at once.

“And in a single volley, Meleager Calydon’s aura is depleted, and he is out of the match!” Professor Port.

Thanks, guys, Rainbow thought. And now she kicked Jason in the side of the head, knocking him sideways.

He rolled and rose to his feet, sword and shield still gripped tightly in his hands.

He had to have known that he had lost the match, but nevertheless, he faced Rainbow Dash, hands steady, face set with determination. She had to give him credit for that.

His blade was glowing blue; Rainbow guessed that it was ice dust.

He charged at her, shield held before him, blade raised. He swung his shield at her. Rainbow grabbed it with both hands, using it — and the fact that it was strapped to his arm — to hold onto him as she turned, spinning on her toes, carrying her opponent with her until she threw him like a frisbee.

And as she threw him, she hit him with a good dose of her aura for good measure.

And as he flew, she kept on hitting him, able to keep up with his movements thanks to her speed semblance, able to follow up, able to keep on laying into him while he struggled to respond, lashing out with her fists left and right, one, two, three, four, until his aura dropped into the red and Rainbow Dash let him drop, defeated, down onto the sand.

“And with the elimination of Jason Chrysomallos, the entire Team Jasmine has now been eliminated!” Doctor Oobleck shouted. “Victory goes to Team Rosepetal of Atlas!”

“YES!” Rainbow yelled, raising both fists into the air as she jumped for joy. “Yes! Yes, we—” She realised that one of her opponents was lying right in front of her and so she forced herself to calm down, clearing her throat. “I mean, um, ahem, good… good game, well fought, uh—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason groaned. “You won fair and square; you’ve got a right to celebrate.” He grunted as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, then gradually rose to stand on his feet again. “Rainbow Dash, yes?”

Rainbow nodded. “That’s right.”

Jason took a deep breath. “I … I am honoured to say that I took lessons from Chiron in Mistral. I will be equally honoured to say that I took lessons in the Amity Colosseum from you.”

Rainbow grinned; she didn’t know how serious he was about that, but she grinned all the same. “Thanks.”

“Do well,” Jason told her. “The farther you go, the easier the sting of this will be to bear.”

Rainbow snorted. “I’ll do my best, since you asked. But now…” She glanced back to the ruins, where the rest of her teammates waited.

“Of course,” Jason said. “I have consolation of my own to offer. See you around, Atlas.”

“See you around, Mistral,” Rainbow replied as she sped back across the sand, across the central hexagon, back to the ruins, where Ciel descended from her high point to join Penny and Twilight.

“It’s done, then?” Penny asked. “It’s over? We won?”

“It’s over, Penny,” Rainbow agreed. “We won. How do you feel?”

“It … was fun,” Penny said. “But it might be even more fun to watch, without having to actually worry about what’s happening.”

Rainbow hesitated. “You know … if you and Ciel want to—”

“No,” Penny said. “No, it’s fine; you two should go on. You both did really well today.”

“We all did well today,” Rainbow told her. “That’s why we won.”

“A victory for Atlas,” Ciel said, “the first victory for Atlas. Yes, indeed, I think it is not unfair to say that Rainbow is correct: we have all done very well.”

Luna leaned back in her chair. “They did it,” she said softly.

Celestia chuckled. “Was there ever a doubt that they would?”

“There is neither shame in losing to a skilled opponent nor shame in contemplating that those you would rather win may be so defeated,” Luna said. “Those semblances of the Jasmine girls were quite something.”

“But they relied on them too heavily, I think,” Celestia said. “They seemed helpless before Rainbow Dash at close quarters; what are they teaching them at Haven?”

“You may well ask,” Luna muttered. “Or perhaps we should not ask and simply take pride in Rainbow Dash’s skill and accomplishment?”

Celestia smiled. “Yes, Luna, why not? That sounds like a much more pleasant idea.”

Swift Foot huffed. “That was disappointing.”

“As a display of skill in arms, I thought it was quite entertaining,” Terri-Belle murmured.

“Yeah,” Swift Foot admitted. “I was still hoping for Haven to win, though.”

“As I said,” Terri-Belle replied, getting up out of her chair, “the Atlesians wanted it more badly, and so they took it. That, and they were just better than their opponents.”

“I told you Atlas would turn it around,” Turnus said.

Juturna blew out of her mouth, making her lips flap a little bit. “Yeah, yeah, you did,” she admitted. “You also said it might be cool to see Haven on a winning streak.”

“And so it might have been,” Camilla murmured, “but fate had it otherwise.”

Juturna nodded. “What is it about faunus? They seem to be some of the best fighters in this tournament. That Sun Wukong guy, then this Rainbow Dash—”

“Don’t,” Camilla said, softly but firmly all the same. “Please, Juturna, do not speak so; it … we are not so different from one another.”

Juturna looked at her, eyes wide. “I … yeah. Sorry, I … sorry.” She paused for a moment. “Still … great fight, huh?”

“Yes,” Camilla murmured. “Yes, it was a very enjoyable match.”

“What did I tell you?” Leaf said as she opened up her packet of cigarettes. “I told you they were going to kick ass, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Veil admitted. “And they did.”

“Like I said,” Leaf added. “Nothing compared to the SDC.” She pulled a cigarette out of the packet and stuck it in her mouth.”

“Do you have to stink up our place with those?” Veil asked.

“I need one!” Leaf insisted, speaking out of one corner of her mouth. “It’s been, like, an hour since I had my last one. Look at me; I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.” She held up one trembling hand as she fumbled for her lighter with the other.

“Well, go outside and smoke in the corridor,” Veil said.

“If I do that, I might miss the start of the next match,” Leaf protested.

“The next match will be between Team Iron of Beacon and Team Bronze of Shade!” Professor Port’s voice boomed out of the television. “Beginning in ten minutes!”

Author's Note

Medea's semblance is a homage to the film Jason and the Argonauts because once that became the theme for the team names I thought, why not?

Rewrite Notes: This chapter got longer as a result of more character reactions before and after, and the fight itself also got a bit of a rewrite.

The biggest change here is Penny's semblance, which is quite different to what it eventually turned out to be in the original; I thought that this semblance, the nature of which will be more fully explained later, was more appropriate to Penny's journey throughout the story as well as possibly being more useful in a variety of different contexts (although we'll see about that last part).

You're Not So Tough Now You're In Our Town (Rewritten)

You’re Not So Tough Now You’re In Our Town

As Team RSPT exited the battlefield, they were met in the corridor beyond by a large crowd: Rainbow’s friends, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, and Team SAPR.

“That was awesome!” Pinkie cried, pumping her pom poms up and down in the air.

Rainbow grinned. “I couldn’t have done it without you cheering me on, Pinkie.”

Pinkie’s smile squeaked audibly. “C is for Rainbow Dash, right?”

“No,” Penny said. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

“It’s a private joke, Penny,” Rainbow told her.

Scootaloo pushed forward between the older not-quite-adults, with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle following a little behind.

“That was amazing, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo cried. “The way you were like wuh-wuh-wuh—” She started boxing with the air, throwing out punches with her right hand and her left, jabbing at imaginary foes that only she could see. “Although I kinda thought you might use your guns more.”

“It might sound strange, but I can do more damage with my fists,” Rainbow said as she knelt down and put a hand on Scootaloo’s shoulder. “Plus, it made for a cooler-looking fight, didn’t it?”

Scootaloo chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it did. I got some great pictures too, including the one where that other guy is up in the air as you hit him.”

Applejack took a step forwards, one hand lightly brushing over Pinkie’s shoulder as she advanced on Rainbow Dash. She smiled as she held out one hand, touching the brim of her hat with the other. “Congratulations, Rainbow.”

Rainbow kept one hand on Scootaloo’s shoulder, even as she reached upwards and outwards to take Applejack’s hand with the other. “Thanks.”

Applejack nodded. “And you too, Twilight.”

Twilight laughed lightly. “I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Sweetie Belle added. “It was like you weren’t even there.”

“Twilight didn’t get eliminated in any way,” Applejack pointed out, “so Ah’m inclined to call that one a win myself; it’s not like this is your natural habitat or nothin’.”

Rainbow looked behind her, where Twilight stood a little diffidently, hands clasped in front of her.

“How does it feel?” she asked. “Having fought your last fight?”

“Like I maybe should have made it a little more memorable,” Twilight suggested. “But mostly relieved.” She paused. “Yeah, definitely something like ninety-nine percent relieved. It’s over, and done, and I will never volunteer for anything so stupid ever again.”

Rainbow grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“We could be asking you how it feels, darling,” Rarity said, “to have upheld the honour of Atlas after a somewhat dismal start to the tournament.”

“Not to mention put some pep back into the Atlas crowd,” Blake added.

Everyone fell silent for a moment, listening to the roaring of the crowd above them.

“You’re not singing anymore!

You’re not singing anymore!”

Rainbow laughed. “That … feels pretty good, I have to say.”

“As a sensation, it is … far from unpleasant,” added Ciel.

“'Far from unpleasant'?” Neon squawked, her voice rising above the members of Team SAPR as she pushed her way through the crowd. “'Far from unpleasant'? Only you could make winning your first match in the Vytal Tournament — and scoring the first win for Atlas into the bargain — sound like going to the dentist’s. Can’t you just say you’re happy and you had fun?”

Ciel glanced away, and downwards slightly at the metallic floor beneath her feet. “I am … proud of myself.”

“That’s more like it!” Neon shouted, dashing forward the remaining distance between them, briefly trailing a rainbow, until she was close enough to wrap one arm around Ciel’s neck and pull her in. “Although, I should warn you, enjoy that warm feeling while it lasts, because I will be outshining you like the sun outshines the moon when it’s my turn.”

A smile pricked at the corners of Ciel’s lips. “I hope so, and look forward to seeing it with my own eyes.”

“You should be proud,” Ruby said. “Just because it may not seem like the biggest deal compared to some of the stuff that you’ve done, you should be proud anyway. You too, Penny, that was incredible out there!”

“I, um…” Penny hesitated. “I’m not really sure what I did.”

“Well,” Pyrrha said. “How did it feel, when you threw off Atalanta’s semblance? What was going through your mind, or your soul?”

“I…” Penny paused. “I was enraptured by that marble she threw; I didn’t even notice that those skeletons were attacking me—”

“We noticed,” Sunset said. “You gave us a bit of a scare there for a second.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“We know, Penny, we know,” Sunset assured her. “Just … go on, keep answering Pyrrha; I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“All right,” Penny murmured. “I was looking at the marble, and thinking about how I only wanted to look at it, but then … it was as if I remembered that that wasn’t what I wanted to do, or at least, I remembered that I wanted to decide what I wanted to do and not have anybody make that choice for me. And just like that, it was like it didn’t affect me anymore, and I could break it.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I see.”

“What?” Penny asked. “What do you see?”

“Pyrrha,” Sunset said, “You’re on the verge of being smug, just tell her.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, her cheeks reddening. “I didn’t mean to … I think, Penny — in fact, I’m fairly sure — that you have just found your semblance.”

Penny gasped. Her green eyes widened. “My … my semblance? You think I’ve found my semblance?”

“It’s difficult to think what else it could be,” Pyrrha said.

Penny’s eyes widened even further, which Rainbow wouldn’t have thought was possible, although she could get why; finding your semblance was kind of a big deal, after all; it … some people held that it told you a little bit about who you were; others said that it only manifested once you already understood yourself well enough that you didn’t need it to tell you who you were, you saw yourself reflected in your semblance; other people said that was all nonsense and semblances were halfway to completely random, which was a little bit boring if it was true.

“I found my semblance!” Penny cried. She started leaping up and down. “I found my semblance!”

Ruby laughed for joy as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Penny as the two of them bounced up and down, locked in embrace. “Congratulations, Penny; we’re all so happy for you.”

“But…” Penny stopped. “What kind of semblance do I have? I could ignore Atalanta’s semblance, but … is that it?”

“Almost certainly not,” Ciel said. “Few semblances are that specific.”

“If you want to find out what your semblance can and can’t do, then you need to try it out,” Ruby said. “When I first found my semblance, Yang had me running up and down outside our house all day so that we could work out how fast I could go, how easy it was for me to change direction, that kind of thing; we should do that.”

“I’m sure that we all want to see Blake’s match,” Pyrrha said. “But after that … there isn’t another fight that I couldn’t miss until Team Auburn versus Team Coffee, and there are four fights between Blake’s fight and that, so after this next match is over, why don’t we all go back down to Beacon and find somewhere we can explore Penny’s new semblance a little?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Penny said. “That is, if you all don’t mind.”

“It’s no trouble,” Pyrrha said, smiling.

“We’re happy to help you,” Ruby added. “Plus, it’ll probably be a lot of fun.”

“Did I hear that right?” General Ironwood asked. “You’ve found your semblance?”

“Officer on deck, ten-hut!” Ciel declared, disentangling herself from Neon as they both came to attention, booted feet slamming onto the floor beneath them.

Rainbow stood to attention too, and so did Applejack — and Blake. The others did not, but they did make way for the General, parting like the clouds before him as he walked down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.

“Uh … yes, yes, sir,” Penny said. “At least … we think so. Or other people do, and I trust them.”

“No, it makes sense with what you did out there,” General Ironwood said. “Congratulations, Penny. And you too, Soleil, Dash; you did well out there.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said. “We did our best.”

“And your best was good enough,” General Ironwood replied. “I know that I shouldn’t take these things too seriously, but I’m glad you were able to deliver a win for Atlas.”

“It was our pleasure to be of service, sir,” Ciel murmured.

The General nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you any further; I just wanted you to know that I’m proud of you.” He turned his back on Rainbow and Ciel, but looked at Blake. “Belladonna?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Best of luck.”

Kali raised the opera glasses to her eyes. “You’ll have to forgive me, Councillor,” she said, “but I’m afraid that this is a match that I don’t want to miss a minute of.”

Cadance chuckled. “Of course. Your daughter.”

“Yes,” Kali said. She was silent a moment. “Councillor — Cadance; do you have any children?”

Cadance thought about the fact that she’d missed her period this month; she hadn’t taken a test, or been to a doctor yet. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, especially when it was still possible that she was simply late for some reason. And yet, all the same, she couldn’t help but wonder. “No,” she said. “I don’t. Not yet, at least.”

Kali looked at her — neither team was yet on the field yet, to say nothing of the match beginning — with a smile on her face. “You’re still young, of course.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“But tell me, Cadance,” Kali said, “if you had a child of your own, how would you feel about them being forced to sign away their freedom either to a jail or to a military, regardless of their feelings on the matter?”

Cadance looked at her guest. “I would probably take it with less equanimity than you’re displaying.”

“I suppose that being Blake’s mother has prepared me to accept things which I can’t change,” Kali said. “I couldn’t stop her joining the White Fang … why should I be able to stop her joining the Atlesian forces?”

“A decision that Blake is making voluntarily, irrespective of how she first came into our orbit,” Cadance pointed out.

“Yes, I know,” Kali acknowledged. “I asked Blake why she would want to fight for Atlas, and she told me that I was wrong about them, that the Atlesian military was full of good people.”

“Blake’s right,” Cadance said.

“I know,” Kali said. “I spoke to one of them, Rainbow Dash, the leader of Team Rosepetal. I asked her why a faunus would want to fight for Atlas, and she told me, in a few more words, that it was out of a mixture of pride and loyalty. But what she didn’t tell me, what perhaps neither of them could tell me, is why those good people whom Blake praised so highly would fight for Atlas and why it would matter to someone like Rainbow Dash whether a place like Atlas thought well of her or not, whether it had any regrets about its decision to give her a chance or not.”

“Atlas is not the enemy of the faunus—”

“It was never a friend of the faunus, as I remember,” Kali said.

Cadance was silent for a moment. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said, “but I think … I think that sometimes we fight for the Atlas that exists in our hearts rather than the one that exists in the skies above Solitas.”

Kali looked at her.

“Please let me explain,” Cadance said. “This isn’t a fairytale, nor a dream spun from thin air; this other Atlas, this better Atlas already exists in potential, like a sleeping giant that can only awaken if we will it so. A kingdom that does more good to its friends than it asks from them in return; a kingdom that makes its friends by conferring not receiving favours; a kingdom where all its citizens alike, from the lowest to the highest, take care not only of their private but also contribute all they are able to the public good; a kingdom where we rely upon our hearts and hands, where we live at ease and yet are as ready to face peril as any warriors trained from early youth. A kingdom that is thrown open to the world. A kingdom of harmony.”

“Such a city would be the school of Remnant, if it existed.”

“It can exist,” Cadance insisted. “Its foundations are already laid in Altas if we are only bold enough and good enough to build upon them.”

Kali chuckled. “I don’t know about Rainbow Dash, but that is surely the kind of idealism that appeals to Blake. She wants to change the world.”

Cadance smiled. “If more people believed it could be done, perhaps the world would change.”

Kali chuckled. “You remind me that you’re almost as young as my daughter and her friends, just as Blake reminds me of her father when we were her age.”

“You think that it’s inevitable that she’ll lose her idealism as she gets older?”

“You don’t?”

“I hope not,” Cadance said. “It would be better if she could prove you wrong, don’t you think?”

Kali considered that. “That … that would be wonderful, you’re right. Those students whose impressive display we’ve just watched, are they friends of yours? Your interest went beyond Atlesian loyalty.”

Cadance nodded casually. “Twilight is my sister-in-law — I’ve known her since she was very young — and Rainbow Dash is a friend of the family. They were both bridesmaids at my wedding.”

“Actually, only Rainbow Dash was a bridesmaid,” Shining Armor interjected from his place standing guard over his wife. “Twilight was … the best girl, I guess?”

Kali chuckled. “Well, to somebody, I’m sure she is. But in that case, didn’t you want to go and congratulate them on their performance?”

“Yes,” Cadance admitted. “Very much so, especially after what Rainbow did out there. But, however close we may be, I’m still an Atlesian councillor, and I don’t want to make things awkward. So I’ll leave them to their friends for now. Shining Armor and I can catch up with them later on.” She frowned ever so slightly. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if Blake would want me down there to congratulate her when she wins,” Kali said. “Do you think she would even want me to be watching her now?”

“Would it change anything if you knew for sure that she did?”

Kali paused for just a moment. “No,” she conceded. “I wouldn’t miss this for all of Remnant.”

They had lost their seats as soon as they got up from them, and so it was a bit of a struggle to find enough seats for SAPR, RSPT, the Canterlot girls, and the little sisters to all sit together, with some walking up and down the stairs, and even having to search in different parts of the vast coliseum, before they finally found a row of seats devoid of people and were able to claim them quickly before anyone else realised that, actually, this Beacon team — including but not limited to the Warrior Princess of Menagerie, as they were calling her in Atlas — was going to be a fight worth sticking around to see.

“How do you think they’re feeling?” Pyrrha asked as she sat down on the aisle seat.

“If Yang was nervous at all, she wouldn’t let on about it,” Ruby said. “Nora … pretended to be nervous, but I think she was only kidding around.” She smiled. “I mean, it’s not like they’d really become social outcasts just because they lost a fight.”

“You’d hope not,” Jaune muttered. “It wouldn’t exactly be very friendly.”

“So,” Rainbow said, looking at her scroll, “which fights are you guys interested in watching? I mean, Sapphire’s fight is the last one of the day—”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sunset said. “We’ve got Team Pastel.” It was kind of weird to think that they were going to be going up against Cinder’s stepsister, the source of all her pain.

Do you know that’s coming, Cinder? And if so, what do you think about it?

And no, no, I am not going to arrange for her to meet an unfortunate accident in the arena.

Although, come to think of it, I don’t know if you’d really want me to. You’d probably rather do it yourself.

For myself, I’ll settle for beating her.

Her confidence — and she did feel confident — did not dispel the sense in her stomach of how weird it was that things should have fallen out this way.

Rainbow snorted. “You got lucky with that draw; they shouldn’t give you much trouble.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sunset replied. “We’ll win, but I don’t know about that.”

“What is Phoebe’s team like?” asked Pyrrha.

“As far as I can tell—” Sunset began.

“You can go over that yourselves later,” Rainbow said. “For now, I want to work out who's watching what fight. So we’re all here for the Iron against Bronze fight and then … Pyrrha, you said you want to watch Team Auburn.”

“I do,” Pyrrha agreed. “I feel that it would be disrespectful to Arslan not to. Of course, I don’t expect anyone else to feel the same way.”

“I’ll watch it with you,” Jaune said. “I mean, we may as well.”

“Me too,” Sunset added. “I want to check out what she’s got.”

“I’m not that fussed about that one,” Rainbow said, “but after that, we have Team Wisteria against Team Indigo, which I definitely want to see, and I think Blake will as well, and after that, it’s Team Tsunami; who wants to see Trixie and Starlight fight?”

“Yep,” Twilight said.

“Ah wouldn’t mind,” said Applejack.

“Yeah, that sounds fun,” Apple Bloom said. “Trixie always puts on a show.”

“I’d like to see that too,” Sunset said. Not just because it would enable her to check out the competition, but also because she felt that she kind of owed them her support after the help they’d been to her at Arcadia Lake.

“Team Funky is fighting second to last, is that not so?” asked Ciel.

Rainbow scrolled down her list. “Yep, that’s right. They’re up just before Sapphire and Pastel.”

Ciel nodded. “I cannot miss that.”

“Are there any other matches that people want to watch?” Rainbow asked. “Ruby? Jaune?”

“Um…” Ruby hesitated. “I might watch Team Wisteria, but … no, not apart from that.”

“That’s a no from me as well,” Jaune added. “I might not even bother watching Team Wisteria.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, but okay,” Rainbow said. “Girls, how about you? Any other fights that I haven’t mentioned already?”

“I don’t think so,” Fluttershy said quietly.

“None are particularly coming to mind, darling,” Rarity added.

“Then we’ll have a lot of time in the afternoon between Team Tsunami and Team Funky’s fights if we want to meet up at the fairgrounds and have some fun,” Rainbow said.

“Shouldn’t it be Twilight doin’ the schedulin’?” asked Applejack.

“Hey, this is not scheduling,” Rainbow retorted. “If it were scheduling, I would be telling you where in the fairgrounds we were going to go and when, which I’m not; I’m just suggesting something that we could do if we wanted to.”

“It might be nice to get to know Blake’s teammates a little better, say thanks to ‘em,” Applejack said. “We don’t know much, or any at all, honestly—”

“Do you think that we’ll get to meet her mother?” asked Rarity. “Because meeting a queen of sorts would be rather—”

“Settle down, Rarity,” Applejack drawled.

“Aha, I mean that it would be wonderful to meet the mother of our good friend, Blake, of course,” Rarity said, with a touch of nervous laughter in her voice.

“As I was sayin’,” Applejack went on, “we don’t know Blake’s Beacon teammates; are they any good?”

“Of course they’re good!” Ruby declared. “They’re really good.”

“And they’re going to walk this match,” Sunset declared. “I’ve been studying the other teams, and Team Bronze … it’s kind of appropriate they’re named that because iron is superior to bronze in every martial respect.”

“Are they bad?” asked Rainbow.

“They’ve got three close quarters specialists and a sniper,” Sunset said. “I don’t think their close quarters specialists are on a level with Iron’s four close quarters specialists, and I don’t think their sniper is good enough to make up for it.”

“Overconfidence can be a grave weakness,” Pyrrha warned.

“The leader of Team Bronze fights with knuckle dusters, the leader of Team Iron fights with sawn-off shotguns strapped to her wrists,” Sunset said. “At some point, it stops being overconfidence and becomes plain fact. Watch, and you’ll see that I was right about this.”

Since Ozpin didn’t have a specific job for him to do right now — with all of Team SAPR and Team RSPT up in the coliseum, Ozpin was watching over Amber himself — Qrow had retired to a bar in Vale that he knew called, appropriately enough, Crow Bar. It was a tiny little place on the docks, with an open front and a bar barely big enough for four guys to sit side by side. That was one of the things he liked about it; it was quiet, not the kind of place where a lot of people came and certainly not at this time in the morning.

Of course, the downside of that was that when the barkeep was looking for somebody to shoot the breeze with — he probably thought he was doing his job by being friendly, but couldn’t he spot a guy who wanted to drink alone and in silence when he saw one? — there wasn’t a whole lot of choice when you were the only guy in the bar.

And so, as the television switched between reminding everyone of the result of the match that had just gone and previewing the match that was about to come, the bartender leaned on the bar opposite him and said, “You know, I’m not sure about all these Atlas types around here, but those kids weren’t half bad.”

Qrow snorted. Ironwood might think a lot of those four brats, but he was considerably less impressed. “They got lucky.”

A decent opposition — by which Qrow meant his memories of Team STRQ in their prime, memories that were still too raw to dwell on for very long but vivid enough to still recall that they had been an unstoppable force of nature when they were together — would have made mincemeat out of them.

Of course, if Summer were still here, she would have told him not to be such a sour jackass to those kids; she might have told him that it was no shame if they wanted to carry a new addition to their group around on their shoulders, if they wanted to have a picnic on the grass, or if they acted like one big happy family.

After all, Team STRQ had been the same once. There was a time when they had all believed their team would last forever.

That was one of the reasons he didn’t like to think on those days too much; he didn’t know whether Summer’s memory was the better angel on his shoulder or whether she was a fool who had died believing in dreams and empty sentiments.

Would you tell Ruby to go for it, or would you tell her to grow up? I wish I knew.

I wish I knew what you’d say to me.

I wish you were still here.

But when had wishing for something ever gotten him anyplace? About as often as believing in one another and standing together as friends had gotten Team STRQ any place.

“You didn’t like them?”

“Huh?” Qrow asked.

“The Atlas kids, you didn’t like them?”

Qrow shrugged. “You don’t like having Atlas in town?”

“I know they say they’re here to keep us safe,” the barkeep said. “But I don’t know; there’s an awful lot of them, and I guess things are safe, but … what if they decide not to go home when the danger is passed? I mean, things have gotten a lot calmer lately, but they’re still here. Or maybe things are calmer because they’re still here, I don’t know. Smart people handle all of this stuff; there’s probably nothing to worry about … but I can’t help but worry, you know.”

“Trust me, I know,” Qrow muttered.

“But then I see kids like that, and I think, you know, they’re not so bad,” the barkeep said. “Like I said, I just don’t know what to think.”

“You’re probably not the only one,” Qrow said. All over the city, people who don’t know what to think, waiting for something to push them one way or the other.

But where’s the shove going to come from?

Qrow finished his drink and motioned for another. He wasn’t going to find the answer sitting in here … but he would get to watch Yang’s fight in relative peace and quiet.

“Turn it up a little bit, will you?” he asked. “I want to hear this next one.”

“Sure thing,” the barkeep said. “You rooting for the Vale kids?”

“Oh, you bet,” Qrow said, not seeing the point in telling the guy that two of those ‘Vale kids’ were from Mistral and another from Menagerie. He didn’t want to talk any more politics, and he didn’t want to do any more work; he just wanted to watch his niece kick some ass.

Are you watching this too, Raven? Did you steal someone’s TV and a generator, and you’re sitting in camp right now watching the festival with a hundred thieving murderers? Or if I went up to the coliseum, would I see a bird perched on the roof looking down?

Whichever it is, I think we’re about to see something pretty cool.

Gilda found Ilia in the attic of the safehouse, all alone unless you counted the spiders whom Gilda couldn’t see but who no doubt infested all those cobwebs that ran between the slanted roof beams.

Ilia was sitting on an upturned trunk that looked a little dusty and kind of small to sit on, looking at her scroll.

“Are you watching Blake’s fight?” Gilda asked as she climbed up the ladder and stood on the chip board that served for a floor, keeping her back bent and her wings tucked in behind her.

Ilia jumped, her whole body turning blue as her head whipped around to look at Gilda. “I … no, I … well, yes, but … I’m only doing it so I can get a look at how she fights now. It’s been a while since I saw her in action last. Since we’re going to fight her at some point, I need to know how strong she is now.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair enough,” Gilda muttered. “That’s why I watched Rainbow Dash’s fight just a little while ago.”

The blue colour did not entirely vanish from Ilia’s skin, but it did fade a little. She kept her eyes on Gilda and did not take them away.

Gilda, for her part, turned away from Ilia for a second to pull the ladder up after her and shut the attic door with a soft thump.

“Hopefully, that opens from the inside,” Gilda remarked. “If not, we’ll just have to break through the ceiling.”

“What are you doing?” asked Ilia.

“Saving us both from eyes who wouldn’t understand the importance of an accurate assessment of enemy capabilities,” Gilda said. “Coming up here was a good idea; I should have thought of it myself.” She grabbed another of the old trunks that littered the attic and dragged it over to where Ilia was sitting. Then she sat down upon it, wings unfurling ever so slightly so that they came close to touching Ilia’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ilia murmured.

“As the leader of this operation, I think I do,” Gilda replied. “It’s important that I know what we’re up against.” She ventured a small smile. “Who knows, it might even be fun.”

"Ooh, here she comes! Here she comes!" declared Leaf, bouncing up and down on the sofa just a little bit.

"Down, girl," Veil drawled, a smile playing across her features.

Leaf rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me for being excited that someone I know, someone who rescued me, is going to be on TV fighting in the biggest deal ever. Clearly, I should be apathetic about this whole thing."

"I didn't say that," Veil insisted. "It is actually pretty cute to see you like this, so cute that I have to make fun of it just a little." She paused. "What's she like, the Warrior Princess?"

Leaf thought about that for a second. "Quiet," she said. "She lets Rainbow Dash do a lot of the talking, or at least she did when I met her. Whether that's because she's the strong, silent type or because she was as new to Atlas as me, I don't really know." She paused. "Two bigshots, two heroes, two people who know councillors and generals, and … and they took time out to help me when I arrived. To help me. I mean … who am I? I'm nothing to them; who does that?" She grinned. "I get the feeling that if they were here, they'd say 'Atlesians do that', but—"

"They're giving this place too much credit," Veil remarked. "They know Councillor Cadenza, right?"

Leaf nodded. "Yeah."

"Yep, she likes to talk about how great this place is, or could be," Veil remarked, "and don't get me wrong, they're good words, but … I don't hardly recognise the place she's talking about sometimes, and sometimes, it feels like the people who live in the place she's talking about aren't hardly human at all. We've got a lot of cool toys up here amongst the clouds, but as people, we're no better than anybody else."

"Except for Blake, and Rainbow Dash," Leaf said.

Veil smiled. "Well, everywhere you go, there are people who stand out above the rest. Maybe Councillor Cadenza spends too much time with them, and that's why she thinks we're all so marvellous." She leaned back on the sofa. "But if your princess friend is as good a fighter as you make her out to be a person, this should be quite a fight. I hope it's as good as the last one."

Blake was standing in the corridor leading out into the arena, cast in shadow by the tunnel ceiling above her, waiting, when she was joined by Yang, Ren, and Nora.

"Here you go," Yang said, handing Blake her weapon. "One Gambol Shroud, as requested." She grinned. "No hot sauce."

Blake snorted. "Thanks," she said as took her weapon from Yang's outstretched hands and slung it across her back, where Gambol Shroud magnetically attached itself to the metal plate on her back. "How are you feeling about all this?"

Yang's eyebrows rose. "Are you asking me if I'm nervous?"

"You," Blake agreed. "Or anyone."

"We're not nervous," Nora said. "What have we got to be nervous about? It's only our entire futures on the line."

"Whatever claims might be made for this tournament, I'm not sure it's quite that important," said Blake.

Nora shrugged. "Maybe not. But if you take it seriously, you won't slip up from not caring."

"We'll be fine," Yang assured them all as she limbered her arms, stretching first one and then the other. "Trust me, we've got this."

"You've been studying the opposition?"

"Nope," Yang replied. "I've been studying us. There may be a team or teams out there who are better than we are, but I know for sure that some Shade team nobody had ever heard of before five minutes ago isn't one of them. I mean, look at us. We may not be the most conventional team of four that has ever walked through the halls of Beacon, but look at what we've got. We've got a thunder goddess who can bench press ten of herself and hit like a truck—"

Nora made a sort of cackling chuckle as she pumped her arms, showing off her guns.

"We've got basically a ninja," Yang went on.

"Well…" Ren murmured, rocking one hand side to side equivocally.

"A warrior princess," Yang said, winking at Blake, "and me, whose awesomeness doesn't need explanation or qualification, right, guys?" She grinned, as she put one hand upon her heart. "So really, what are they going to bring that could make us come out in a sweat? We've got this. We just need to believe in ourselves."

"That's the spirit!" Sun said loudly as he stepped out of a nearby service doorway and into the tunnel. "Just believe in yourselves, and everything will work out fine."

"Oh, hey, Sun," Yang said. "I'd ask what you were doing here, but I think I can guess."

"Well, you know," Sun said, folding his arms, "I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought I'd—woah!"

He attempted to lean nonchalantly against the tunnel wall, arms folded and one foot crossed behind the other with a sort of self-conscious coolness that would, to Blake's mind at least, have prevented him from looking actually cool even if he hadn't misjudged the distance, lost his balance and fell, squawking with alarm, to smack his head against the corridor wall.

Blake winced as she walked between Yang and Nora to reach him. "Are you okay?" she asked as she held out her hand to help him up.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," Sun assured her as he took her hand, although he was rubbing at his forehead with his other hand. "What's aura for, right?"

"True enough, I guess," Blake agreed. "Congratulations, by the way, on your victory. You had a good match out there just a little while ago."

Sun flashed his teeth at her, his smile causing his eyes to light up. "I knew that I heard you cheering for us."

Blake chuckled. "I doubt that very much," she said. "I'm not sure that Sunset or Applejack heard me cheering, and they were sitting right next to me."

"Well, I heard you," Sun said. "Like you were whispering in my ear."

"I'd have to be whispering in your ear for you to hear it," Blake said, amusement in her voice. "But either way, you did well."

He had done rather better as a fighter than as a leader, failing to corral Sage and Scarlet into really following his lead, but it would have been cruel to have pointed that fact out, especially since they had won the match regardless.

"Thanks," Sun said. "You'll hear me, I promise. And not as a whisper in your ear either; you'll be hearing me loud and clear!" He paused. "But not so loud that it gets distracting or anything, because I wouldn't want to throw you off your game, just loud enough that you know that I'm there, or I will be there, up in the stands. I guess, what I'm trying to say is—" He cupped her cheek with one hand, and kissed her. "Knock 'em dead out there."

"Nice way of wishing someone luck," Nora remarked.

Blake felt her cheeks heating up ever so slightly as she took a step backward. "I'll … try not to disappoint you."

This time, Sun managed to lean casually upon the wall, and as she stepped back from him, he waved to her with his tail, which snaked into view from over his shoulder.

Blake smiled, then turned away as the four members of Team YRBN — for now — stepped out of the tunnel and into the arena.

They emerged out of the shadow and into the light to the sound of applause falling upon them like rain.

“Team Iron of Beacon!” Professor Port declared. “Team Bronze of Shade!”

The applause was redoubled at the announcement of their names as the two teams made their way to the central hexagon and squared off against one another.

Brawnz Nii had hair that began dark but turned — first slowly and then all at once — to grey, slicked to the left so that it covered one side of his face while leaving the other mostly bare. His purple eyes were set in a firm face with a square jawline, and his arms bulged somewhat with muscles, easy to view since he was wearing a sleeveless top that started grey and graduated to purple by the time it reached his waist. Bronze kneecaps were strapped around the knees of his black pants, and around his hands he had a pair of fairly thick-looking metal slabs with small claws extending just past his knuckles.

Roy Stallion was a dark-skinned youth, his brown hair worn in dreadlocks combed back behind his head, wearing a green vest over a black t-shirt, with white pants, black fingerless gloves upon his hands, and white vambraces upon his upper arms; those same vambraces also held his weapons, a pair of bronze-looking spinning discs like miniature buzzsaw blades.

Nolan Porfirio had hair of dark red, worn long and untidy, falling down across his forehead and almost obscuring his pink eyes. He wore a white shirt with a black hoodie over the top and then a blue denim vest worn over that, making him look a little bulkier than he probably was. His pants were burgundy and artfully ripped in a way that looked like deliberate choice, not accident. Like his teammate Roy, he wore black fingerless gloves, although unlike him, Nolan had no vambraces, and his only visible weapon was the cattle prod he was holding in his hand, twirling with his fingers.

May Zedong was the only female member of the opposition team, strands of dusky rose hair peeking out from under a black beanie hat pulled down so low that it hid one of her light blue eyes from view completely. She wore a red and white striped jacket and blue tracksuit pants, and a black scarf wrapped around her neck. She had a sniper rifle with a long, slender barrel slung across her back.

As they had done for the RSPT fight, and all the fights before that, the biome selectors rolled for each half of the battlefield, producing a lush thick forest that rose out of the depths of the arena behind Team BRNZ, while the image of a palm tree and a beach presaged the rising, behind Team YRBN, of a scene straight out of a pirate story: the gutted wreck of an old-fashioned sailing ship, a rich blue ocean, and a sandy beach spotted with the occasional palm tree. The ocean predominated, covering most of their half of the arena without much promise of dry feet or sure footing.

“I guess we’re going forwards then,” Yang declared. She grinned. “The best way to go. Most of the time.”

“Three,” Professor Port called out. “Two … one … begin!”

Three members of Team BRNZ — Brawnz, Roy, and Nolan — began to charge across the centre of the arena towards Team YRBN; the fourth, May Zedong, broke for the cover of the trees behind them.

“Nora,” Yang called, pointing to the gap between Brawnz and Nolan.

“You got it,” Nora said, converting Magnhild into its squat grenade launcher form nestled in her arms. The explosive canister traced a pink trail behind it as Nora fired at a low angle towards the three Shade huntsmen.

They split up, Nolan going one way and Brawnz and Roy going the other; the grenade exploded in between them with a bang and a cloud of pink smoke. Two more grenades burst from the mouth of Magnhild to further drive the three Shade students apart.

Yang glanced at Blake and nodded. Without another word, the two of them charged for Nolan, trusting Ren and Nora to handle Brawnz and Roy for at least a moment.

Blake drew Gambol Shroud from across her back as she charged. She reached Nolan first, slashing crosswise and forcing him into a desperate parry with his cattle prod. She pushed forward, using a sequence of shadow clones to leap forward without Nolan being able to see it, much less respond. With every clone she left behind, Blake closed the distance yet further, sending Nolan stumbling further backwards to get away from the swift strokes of her furious blades. As his aura was carved like a joint of ham, he had no chance to do anything but desperately, futilely attempt to defend himself.

A shot landed near her feet, chipping the ground in the centre of the arena. A second shot dispelled the shadow clone that Blake had left in her place as she got out of the way. A glint of light from the trees was the only thing that revealed the presence of May Zedong and her sniper rifle there.

Before Nolan could take advantage of his reprieve, he was forced further back by a pair of blasts from Ember Celica, neither of which hit him but which did make him dance a little as Yang put herself between Blake and Nolan.

“Blake, get the sniper,” Yang ordered.

Nolan hit her in that moment of distraction, slamming his cattle prod across her face like a stun baton, following up with hitting her across the side and on the leg before driving his cattle prod into her gut and turning it on. Lightning rippled up and down Yang’s whole body, snapping and crackling like a pack of hungry hounds upon the hunt. Yang tensed for a moment, and then her hair began to glow more golden than the sun as smoke started rising from her body.

“Oho, looks like Yang Xiao Long has just activated her semblance,” Professor Port said jovially.

Blake ran, ignoring both Doctor Oobleck’s explanation of what Yang’s semblance was and the sounds of Yang getting to work on Nolan behind her — she sounded as though she was having fun, even if he wasn’t — as she ran, back bent and arms swept back behind her, towards the thick forest that covered BRNZ’s half of the arena.

The forest where May Zedong was hiding.

Shots flew out of the trees, shots that were a little slower for coming from a different location each time: May was changing her position so that Blake couldn’t use the source of the fire to work out where she was. That was a smart move, even if it did mean that she was slower to shoot, but since she was only hitting Blake’s shadow clones as Blake bore down upon her, then a higher rate of fire wouldn’t have made much difference, as every shot she fired simply dispelled the fake Blake and revealed the actual Blake somewhere different — and closer to May’s position.

She couldn’t see May, and May was smart enough to keep moving to make herself harder to find in the thick foliage.

Unfortunately for her, Blake had an answer to that particular problem. Gambol Shroud was empty right now, but as she began to slow down, Blake reached into her tailcoat pocket and pulled out a magazine of fire dust rounds, which she loaded as soon as her weapon switched to pistol configuration.

The klaxon blared out loudly behind her.

“Nolan Porfirio has just been eliminated,” Doctor Oobleck declared as the cheering from certain sections of the crowd intensified.

Nice going, Yang, Blake thought as she started to run across the front of the forest, firing at random into the tops of the trees with her fire dust rounds, strafing back and forth until she had emptied the entire clip.

Possibly, May thought that she was desperate, firing blindly until she hit something.

She probably realised what Blake was really up to once the trees started to catch fire.

Blake changed Gambol Shroud back from a pistol into its black sword form and watched, still and silent, as all the trees before her began to bloom in shades of gold and crimson like so many candles.

Any second now.

May stumbled out of the blazing forest, coughing a little and rubbing her one visible eye against the smoke that was beginning to rise from the burning trees.

And as she emerged, Blake was on her.

May was unprepared, she had no close combat weapon, and although she tried to parry with her sniper rifle, Blake had landed three slashing strokes upon her before May took her first clumsy swing with the butt of her rifle.

She hit nothing but a shadow clone as Blake appeared behind her, sending her flying forwards with a kick to the small of the back. Blake left a clone behind as she raced forwards, appearing in front of May before she hit the ground, dealing out another kick that sent her flying upwards as Blake followed, leaving clones behind as she rose up one slash with sword or scabbard at a time, as though each motion was a step up a ladder, one, two, three, before the dispelling of her last clone revealed her hovering on top of the helpless May who could only watch, wide-eyed with horror, as Blake brought her foot down on her stomach hard enough to send the Shade student slamming down to earth with a resounding crash.

The klaxon sounded. “May Zedong has just been eliminated,” Professor Port said, to even more cheering from the Beacon-supporting section of the crowd.

Blake left her lying on the ground as she headed back to where her teammates were still fighting on the edge of the ocean. Yang was still on fire as she battled against Brawnz Ni, the leader of the opposing team. It wasn’t that he wasn’t getting any hits in — Yang’s aura was in the yellow — it was just that he was also taking hits, and Yang was simply hitting harder than he was, culminating in Yang punching him in the gut so hard that his feet left the ground and following up with a blow down on the top of his head that sent him into the ground and bouncing along it until he reached the very edge of the arena. The klaxon sounded and Doctor Oobleck announced his elimination.

That left only Roy Stallion, who seemed to be sweating a little as he tried to keep out of the way of Nora’s hammer while using his discs — they flew and then returned to him — to keep Ren at a distance and constantly dodging.

“Blake,” Nora called. “Hit me!”

Blake turned Gambol Shroud to pistol mode and loaded a magazine of lightning dust. “Copy that,” she murmured as she snapped off two shots that struck Nora square in the abdomen.

Gasps rang out from the crowd across the arena as Nora was thrown backwards.

“It looks as though Blake Belladonna just fired on one of her own teammates!” Doctor Oobleck cried. “Have we ever seen anything like this in the Vytal Festival before?”

“Perhaps not, Professor—”

“Doctor!”

“—but then, we haven’t had a semblance quite like this one in the Vytal Festival before,” Professor Port declared as Nora got up, grinning like a fiend as lightning crackled across her body. “You see, Nora Valkyrie’s semblance allows her to store the raw power of electricity in her muscles, greatly increasing her strength in the process.”

“Wait, wh—?” was as far as Roy Stallion got before Nora was in his face, still grinning as she swung her hammer straight into his gut hard enough to fling him out of the arena and plaster him face-first against the shield protecting the crowd.

“And with that final knockout, Team Iron wins the match.”

Qrow allowed himself a triumphant smirk as he put down his glass. “Now that was a match.”

But maybe try and do it without getting hit so often next time, huh, Yang? Not all your enemies will give you the chance to come back at them the way those guys did.

It worried him a little bit, that Yang would get so used to taking hits to fuel her semblance that, in the end, when she met someone whose blows she couldn’t shrug off, she wouldn’t know what to do.

But he was sure Tai had raised her to fight smarter than that. For now, he could take pride in a fight well won.

If only he didn’t have to wait until the very end of the day to see Ruby in action too.

“Yes!” Kali cried as she leapt her feet, the opera glasses clattering to the floor as she clasped her hands together. “Great job, Blake!”

Cadance smiled. “She really was very good.”

“Her father would be proud,” Kali said as she sat back down in her seat. “At least … I hope so.”

Cadance pursed her lips together for a moment. “This isn’t anything like the kind of life you wanted for her, is it?”

“No,” Kali admitted. “But then … if it’s the life that she’s chosen, then who am I to question it? I didn’t…”

Cadance waited for her to finish. “Kali?”

“I was just going to say,” Kali murmured, “that if I didn’t question her previous choice of life, then how can I question this one? It isn’t the life that I, or Ghira, wanted for her, but … she’s become a fine young woman, and I’m glad of that … and proud of it too.”

“Are you going to go down and see her?” Cadance asked.

“No,” Kali said. “Like you, I’ll leave her to her friends for now. I’m sure they want to celebrate after that swift victory. Are all the battles ended so quickly?”

“Drawn out fights are rare,” Shining Armor said. “But you’re right, that was fast.”

“Is that because Blake and her teammates are that good or their opponents were that bad?” Kali asked. “Excuse the question; I’m not very experienced when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“Team Bronze weren’t great,” Shining Armour admitted, “but that isn’t to say that Team Iron weren’t pretty good: tough and coordinated. If they always fight like that, then—”

“Then they’ll be able to manage without Blake?” Kali asked.

Shining Armor smiled slightly. “Yes, I think that’s fair to say. Blake played her part in this victory, but equally, she’ll be able to leave the other three behind without any worries or regrets.”

“Well,” Gilda said, “Blake certainly hasn’t lost her touch.”

“No,” Ilia said, smiling slightly. “No, she hasn’t.”

Gilda sighed. Blake and Dashie. We’ve really got our work cut out for us, haven’t we?

“YES!” Leaf shouted. “Now that was incredible, wasn’t it?”

Veil nodded. “She was pretty cool.”

“Mhmm,” Leaf agreed. “There’s just one problem.”

“'Problem'?” Veil repeated. “What problem?”

“The rest of the day’s going to be really boring now until Sunset and Ruby’s fight,” Leaf said. “There’s no one else I want to see.”

“That was an amazing fight, Yang!” Ruby cried, trailing rose petals in her wake as she ran towards Team YRBN, catching them just as they exited the arena. “You’ve gotten so strong.”

Yang grinned. “Well, I’ve got to give the folks something to talk about while they wait around all day for you to show up.”

The rest of Team SAPR, Team RSPT, and the rest of Blake’s Atlas friends all followed Ruby towards Team YRBN at a slightly slower pace.

“You were pretty good too, Blake,” Sunset said. “Neat trick smoking out their sniper like that.”

“Not as cool as what you did with the clones,” Rainbow said. “But more awesome if you stop and think about it.”

“Indeed, you were very impressive,” said Rarity.

“If that is the final act of your time at Beacon,” Ciel said, “it is, I daresay, a full stop of which you need not feel ashamed.

“C is for Blake!” Pinkie cried, waving her pom-poms in the air.

“Thanks,” Blake said. Her smile had a slightly sheepish quality about it. “I just hope that they don’t need the forest terrain again.”

“Aw, don’t worry about a little thing like that, Sugarcube; Ah’m sure they’ve thought of everything, and it’s already taken care of,” Applejack declared.

“I’m not even sure they ever re-use the scenery, it’s so usual for it to be damaged in the fighting, so there are plenty of replacements for each variant available,” Pyrrha said with an undertone of amusement in her voice. “You all did wonderfully well; congratulations.”

Ren scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think that I added that much to proceedings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ren,” Nora said cheerfully. “Just because you didn’t get the knockout blow doesn’t mean you didn’t do anything. That guy would have been too fast for me without you helping me out.”

“Hey, Blake!” Sun cried, leaping out of the stands and down to the tunnel mouth to join them, causing the others to scatter a bit so that he wouldn’t land on them as he slammed down onto the floor.

“Dude!” Neptune called down from above. “You could have just walked down there to be there to meet her!”

“That wouldn’t have looked as cool,” Sun protested, before he turned his gaze on Blake. “Although my entrance still didn’t look as cool as that win out there.” He looked at Yang. “You should seriously consider—”

“No,” Blake said. “No, she shouldn’t, not when … Nora deserves this more than I do.”

“I don’t know about ‘deserve,’” Nora said, “but I definitely want it more than you do.”

“Are you sure?” Sun asked Blake. “Because you’d look really cool out there?”

Blake smiled. “Perhaps I’d rather just look.”

Sun chuckled. “Well, if there aren’t any other fights you want to look at right now, I thought that maybe we could take a look around the fairgrounds together.”

“That sounds great,” Blake said. “And we will, later this afternoon. Right now…” — she looked at Penny, who was starting to fidget impatiently, playing with her hands, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet — “we all promised to help Penny work out the limits of her semblance.”

Author's Note

I've watched the JNPR vs BRNZ fight several times this week and the more I watch it the more I'm left with the impression that BRNZ are nothing special and that Pyrrha was nerfed terribly (compare her performance against CRDL), which is a real pity considering that this is her last fight before the tragedy of Penny's death and then Pyrrha's own defeat and death at the hands of Cinder.

All of which didn't leave me particularly well disposed towards Team BRNZ which is perhaps one of the reasons they go down so easily here. The other reason is that I just don't think they're up to much compared to their opponents.

Rewrite Notes: The fight in this chapter stayed pretty much the same, with the rewrite focusing on events around the fight; one of the things you'll notice is that because these fight chapters can get quite long, post-match reactions often get pushed into the next chapter, and this starts here.

Finding Freedom (New)

Finding Freedom

"Are you sure that this is alright?" Amber asked. "Shouldn't you be … watching the matches or something?"

She was sitting in Ozpin's office, on a chair that was a few feet across the room from his desk. She didn't want to sit too close to him, after all.

With Team SAPR and Team RSPT and Blake all participating in the tournament, and what was more, with them all watching the matches at the moment, then the question of her security had become a little acute. There was no one present to keep an eye on her unless she wanted to go up to the great flying coliseum above, which she did not wish to do.

Judging by what had happened when she had tried to watch SAPR and YRBN sparring, it probably wasn't a very good idea for her to watch the Vytal Tournament.

Sunset had told her that they would send her a message when they were back down at Beacon, and they could explore the fairgrounds together, although … Amber wouldn't have minded not being with them, since…

Since she wasn't in any danger anymore.

Since she had made a deal with … with Salem.

Or with Salem's agents and servants, anyway.

I have done the right thing. And not just for myself, for Dove, for Sunset and Pyrrha, for Lyra, for Team SAPR and all the rest.

It was a pity that she wouldn't get to see Mistral with Pyrrha and the others, that she wouldn't get to see Atlas with Ciel, but this way, Pyrrha would be alive to see Mistral again, Ciel would be alive to go home to Atlas, and neither of them, none of them, would ever have to live with the danger that came from trying to stand between a Maiden and the powers opposed to them.

She didn't want the people she had met in this brave new world to die for her sake, and all that she had to do to prevent that, and to assure her own security into the bargain, was to give up a crown. A crown. A hollow band of gold.

What was a crown against so many wonders? What was a golden circle against the light of so many stars? Even if it was a relic, it was only one relic. Only one.

However heavy gold might be, it could not weigh against the lives at stake.

It was not so precious.

No, Amber … Amber had no regrets. It might have been nice to know exactly how Bon Bon was going to clear the school so that she could get the relic, but even if it involved the grimm … Amber was certain that they could handle it and protect Vale against the grimm. They seemed so brave, so gallant, and so strong. So long as Salem's hand was not raised against them directly, then they would be fine.

She had no regrets. She was doing the right thing, without doubt.

However, as brave as they were, as noble and as kind, Amber knew that her new friends would be unlikely to see it the same way, and so — as much as she enjoyed their company — she might also have welcome a little separation, a greater space in which she could be sure that her secret would not come out.

She did not, however, welcome it when the alternative was spending time with Ozpin.

She would have been preferred to have been watched by Qrow, who was good at making himself unobtrusive, but instead, Ozpin had asked her — told her, really — to come to his office so that he could … he wanted to spend time with her.

Sunset had not quite encouraged her to go and to forgive him, but Amber had been able to see her thinking it.

I am not you, Sunset, and Ozpin is not the person you were unjustly angry with.

She did not like being here, alone with him. She wanted Dove. She wanted to be somewhere else.

"I … will not say that tournaments have grown stale with repetition," Ozpin replied. "That would be rather harsh upon my students, but though I have obligations towards them, I also have obligations towards you, and I think I am allowed to put them first, upon this one occasion."

The clock ground overhead, the sounds of the gears constant, incessant, and a little disturbing to her ears. She did not like the sound. If she had ever liked the sound of that clock, of those great gears, then she did not remember it.

Though it disturbed her a little less, now, than it had done — it had been a reminder to her that her time was finite, running — but now … soon, she would be free of Ozpin, and she and Dove would have all the time in the world.

"How … how is it going?" Amber asked. "The tournament, I mean."

Ozpin looked at something on his desk. "It is proceeding well enough," he said. "Atlas got off to a bit of a rough start, but Team Rosepetal have scored the first victory for their academy, and I am sure there will be others to follow; General Ironwood has some capable teams coming up in the following matches. Beacon has not been greatly tested yet; Team Iron has just fought Beacon's first battle and won it. Team Jugular is next, and after that, I have high hopes for Team Coffee, although Miss Altan is not an opponent to sneeze at. Haven and Shade have, as yet, little cause to feel dismay; their honours are even with their disappointments."

"I see," Amber murmured. "I'm glad for Team Rosepetal, and … Team Iron is Blake, isn't it?"

"Miss Belladonna is at present a member of Team Iron, yes," Ozpin replied. "Although … come next year, everything will be rather in flux in that regard. Miss Belladonna gone, Miss Polendina here, Mister Bronzewing … there is a part of me that is inclined to have a new Initiation for some of the second years."

"'A new Initiation'?" Amber asked. "What do you mean?"

"That at least some of the students — Miss Polendina, Team Sapphire, what remains of Team Iron and Team Bluebell, would sit Initiation again, separately from the first years, and be reorganised into new four man teams," Ozpin explained. "That way, something closer to even numbers — and with good fortune, a more even balance of skills — could be achieved."

Amber frowned. "But … Team Sapphire serves you, they work for you. If you split them up…"

If you split them up, it would be better for them, but not for you.

"Well, quite," Ozpin murmured. "And besides … while Miss Shimmer has displayed a steadfast loyalty of late, in a manner that has been both surprising and … rather humbling, nevertheless, I think that attempting to split her team apart might try even her patience with my antics. Nevertheless, something will need to be done, about Miss Polendina, about Team Bluebell, about…" He smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm beginning to talk to myself; there is no need to trouble your ears with such things."

"It…" Amber trailed off, stopping herself from saying it was fine because she didn't really want him to continue. She looked down at her lap, which on this occasion was covered by a dark green skirt she was wearing over her trousers. "Do you…?" she began, but did not finish.

"Please," Ozpin said, leaning forwards a little, hands resting upon his desk. "Whatever it is, you may ask it."

Amber hesitated a moment longer, nevertheless, before she said, "Do you care about them? Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby? Do they … matter to you?"

Ozpin stared at her for a moment, for more than a moment, for seconds ticking on, marked by that interminable grinding of the clock above, marking the length of time for which he looked at her.

The lines in his face had never looked quite so deep to her before.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "I do care," he said, "just as … I do care."

"But you make them fight," Amber said. "You put them in danger."

"They are willing to take the risk," said Ozpin.

"I wasn't," Amber whispered.

Silence fell in the office, broken only by the grinding of that awful clock, inexorably marching on.

"I cared about you too," Ozpin insisted. "I still do."

"You could have taken me away," Amber said, "From…"

"From your mother?" Ozpin asked. "It would have broken her heart."

"It would have kept me from turning into … this," Amber said. "From being … I could have had a life, a Valish life, a life with Dove, a normal life."

Ozpin did not meet her eyes. "I … I am sorry," he said. "I should have … someone must bear the powers of the Fall Maiden, to which you may well ask me why that someone must be you, to which I have no other response but to say … who else?"

"I … I don't know," Amber admitted. She paused a moment. "I don't want…" There is no one I would choose to pass this burden onto, but why does that mean I have to choose it for myself?

"I am sorry," Ozpin repeated. "I … I have not done right by you, and the more I think on it, the more I believe that your mother would have understood … that this was not the life that she would wish for you. It was never my intent to see you attacked, to see you hurt, to see you … until Miss Shimmer came to me with her proposal … I thought I had lost you. It brings me no joy to put you in this position, or to send Miss Shimmer or Miss Nikos out to risk their lives in battle. None of it brings me any joy."

"But you do it anyway."

"I must, Amber," Ozpin insisted. "There is evil aboard in the world that cannot be resisted by General Ironwood's robots; you know that better than most."

Amber shuddered, and one hand rose involuntarily to her face, to the scars that her makeup only partially concealed.

"Someone must fight against that evil," Ozpin went on, "and that fighting is as dangerous as it is necessary."

Amber did not reply to that except to say, "They're all so very brave. Perhaps you should have made one of them your Fall Maiden."

Ozpin did not reply. He would not meet her eyes as he said, "This school is full of brave young men and women."

"That's what the tournament is for, isn't it?" Amber asked. "To show everyone else how brave and how good they are."

"The tournament is the crowning glory of a celebration of peace and unity," Ozpin corrected her, "but yes, it also allows for the brave young men and women to be celebrated, if not necessarily for the deeds they ought to be celebrated for."

Amber hesitated for a moment. "I … thank you, for letting me stay for the festival."

Ozpin looked at her now, and looked almost as though he might smile. "You always wanted to see it," he said.

"Did I?"

"Yes," Ozpin said. "I described it to you, and you thought it sounded … very wonderful."

"Oh," Amber whispered. "I … don't remember that. But Ruby, Pyrrha, the others, they made it sound wonderful too. They made it sound … thank you, for letting me be here for it, with them, for not … sending me away so soon."

"I have yet to make the arrangements for a suitable location," Ozpin said, "but when I do … Team Sapphire cannot protect you forever, you do realise that?"

They won't have to. "I know. I wouldn't want them to, not forever; I wouldn't want to…" I wouldn't want to put them in danger like that. She did not say so, though; it would have sounded too cruel.

And she did not want to be cruel. She didn't like him, she didn't agree with what he'd done, she didn't desire to forgive him, but … she didn't want to be cruel to him. What would have been the point? Soon, she would be free, and away from him forever.

He had no more power to hurt her now, so why be cruel?

"I know that I can't stay," she said. "They're on a different path to me. I wish them … I wish them luck with it. You didn't punish them for going with me to the relic vault, did you?"

"No," Ozpin said. "Although I am still a little surprised you took them there."

"I thought that they should know," Amber said, although in honesty, it was something that she regretted now. It might have been better if they had not known; that way, she could have gotten the relic and gotten out that much easier. She regretted it, but at the time … at the time, with the shadows so long, it had seemed like the right thing to do. "I thought that they should know. Just in case."

Ozpin sighed. "You may be right," he said. "I hope it will not come to that, but you may be right." He paused. "How … how is Mister Bronzewing?"

"Dove?" Amber asked. "Dove's fine, Dove's wonderful, Dove is…" She smiled. "The whole world seems brighter because of my happiness." And because of my safety which I've guaranteed.

"I am glad," Ozpin said softly. "When your mother told me that you believed yourself in love—"

"I was in love," Amber corrected.

"Yes, yes, so it would seem," Ozpin acknowledged, "but at the time, to your mother and I … love at first sight … it seemed a pretty plot for fairytales—"

"A better fairytale than the one you wrote for me," Amber said. She frowned. "I'm sorry, that was—"

"It is quite alright."

"No," Amber said, "no, it isn't, I … I don't hate you," she said. "I don't like you, and I don't forgive you, and I don't…" I don't ever want to see you again. "But I don't hate you."

"But you no longer trust me, as you once did," Ozpin said.

Amber shook her head. "There was a time when time spent with you was the happiest time. When it was what I looked forward to more than … anything. There was a time … there was a time when I thought that you would never hurt me, not ever, but … that time is gone now. And whatever Sunset might think, whatever she might want … I don't think that we can bring it back."

"No," Ozpin murmured. "No, Miss Shimmer … I fear she is very optimistic in that regard. I do not need your trust. Or your love, although … all I need is for you to be safe."

Amber nodded. "I know. And I will be."

Her scroll went off, making Amber jump. She fumbled with the device that was still unfamiliar to her, struggling even to remember how to open it up.

"Let me help you," Ozpin said, getting up from behind his desk and swiftly crossing the room towards her, taking the scroll from her unprotesting hands and doing with ease what Amber herself had abjectly failed at: opening the device.

"Thank you," Amber said quietly. Her voice rose as she went on, "It's from Sunset; she says that I can meet everyone at the amphitheatre … if I want to."

"Do you wish to?" Ozpin asked.

Amber thought for a moment. The fact that they were in the amphitheatre was a little worrying, but on the other hand … they wouldn't be fighting there, not after what had happened last time. They wouldn't do that to her.

And if the alternative was to stay here with Ozpin … it wasn't much of a choice.

"Yes," she said. "I would."

The smile he gave her was a little sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Then I'll escort you down," he said.

Penny felt … it was hard to describe how she felt except to say that she felt like skipping.

That was hard, because everywhere was so crowded, but she felt like it nonetheless.

She had found her semblance! She had found her semblance.

She had a semblance, she was…

She was real.

That might sound unfair to people who hadn’t found their semblances, and Penny knew that there were people like that even at this school — and people like Jaune who had only found theirs recently — but all the same, there were times when it had seemed like everyone she knew had a really cool semblance that not only made them better people, that not only helped them out in battle, but also, in some way, expressed themselves.

From Rainbow Dash or Ruby being fast enough, Jaune being able to help with anything, Sunset’s ability to understand what you were going through, the fact that Blake was so skilled that she was even more untouchable on the battlefield than Pyrrha in some ways, their semblances were not only a part of them but also said something about them as well. And Penny had felt, sometimes, that her not having semblance, not having something that expressed her, that it … that it maybe said something about her.

That it made her a little less real than the people around her.

Until today. Until she found her semblance.

She had a semblance! Admittedly, she wasn’t entirely sure what it did or what it said about her, but that was what they were going to find out! And find out they would, because she had a semblance!

They — Penny, Team SAPR, Team RSPT, Blake, Sun, and Rarity, though not the rest of Rainbow Dash’s Canterlot friends — made their way across the grounds of Beacon; to the east of the courtyard, and on the grass beside the path leading to the docking pads, everything on the eastern side of the school grounds, had been turned into enormous fairgrounds nestling in the shadows of the Amity Coliseum. There were food stalls in plenty, as well as any number of games to play and rides to ride; there was a ferris wheel, a helter skelter, a hall of mirrors and a carousel. And even outside the fairgrounds, the grounds of Beacon — although not the buildings themselves — were mostly open to the public, and there were plenty of people in the courtyard, on the docking pads waiting for flights up to the coliseum, or just on the grass, enjoying the day. Everywhere you looked was a heaving mass of people, casually dressed or dressed in costumes — Penny spotted a few Pyrrhas, and some Blakes and Rainbow Dashes, and even one or two Sunsets; nobody that she could see was dressed like her — eating, drinking, wandering around, carrying stuffed animals and candy floss and big tubs of popcorn. There was an energy in the air, it was like … good feelings all around.

Or maybe that was just her own good mood.

Either way, the school was crowded, much more crowded than usual; there were places when they could hardly move at all and were stuck in the press waiting for a way forward to appear, queuing up just to take a few forward steps; Penny could only imagine for the moment what it would be like when they actually got into the fairgrounds later on.

For now, just trying to get to the amphitheatre felt slow, and ever slower because people kept stopping Pyrrha, and Rainbow and Blake, for selfies.

Penny admired the way that they dealt with it … well, she admired the way that Pyrrha dealt with it, with grace and a smile and endless patience; it was harder to admire the way Rainbow dealt with it when she was obviously enjoying every second of it, while Blake was equally obviously not enjoying it at all and could barely muster a smile for anyone no matter how many times Rainbow prompted her.

But regardless of how well or not each of them handled it, it was starting to make Penny a little impatient. She wanted to get to the amphitheatre and find out more about her semblance! Why couldn’t all these people leave them alone?

“I’m tempted to just leave a clone behind to get the picture taken,” Blake muttered.

Rainbow snorted. “You’re so flat, I kind of thought that you were doing that already. Would it really kill you to be a little more enthusiastic?”

“It just might,” said Blake. “I didn’t do this for the fame or the glory.”

“And yet, fame and glory finds us nonetheless, whether we would have it so or not,” Pyrrha said. “I understand your discomfort, but it isn’t the fault of those who look up to you.” She glanced behind her at Blake. “At the risk of sounding as though I’m reproaching you, they deserve better than a sullen, painfully obliged response.”

“At the risk of sounding as though you’re reproaching me?” Blake repeated. “What are you doing if not reproaching me?”

“Well … I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said, her voice lowering a little. “It’s just … I’ve always remembered not to take my frustrations out on the fans. It’s common courtesy. Whether you sought fame or not, you have done deeds worthy of fame, and that has its consequences. You cannot avoid them, much as you might like to.”

“Is it that easy for you?” asked Blake. “To just smile and put all your real feelings aside?”

“I have had a lot of practice,” Pyrrha conceded, and hardly sooner had she said that then she spotted a family approaching her through the crowd, and instantly, her face became a pleasant mask. “Oh, hello there!”

Eventually, and it probably wasn’t even that long except that Penny really, really wanted to get there, they made it to the amphitheatre, which was physically open, even if it wasn’t actually open to the public. They made it inside, and with no need for anyone to change, they went immediately to the main auditorium, where Sunset turned up the lights so that they could actually see what they were doing.

“Thank you all for your help with this,” Penny said.

Pyrrha smiled, a more genuine smile than she had offered to anyone who had asked for a selfie or an autograph, and said, “We’re happy to help, Penny.”

“Although I’m not entirely sure how we can help,” Sun added.

“I’m not sure what to do either,” Penny said. “I just used my semblance instinctively before. How am I supposed to do it again?”

“I found that pretty easy,” Jaune said. “After I’d used it the first time, it just … came to me. Once I knew what my semblance was, once I’d found it or unlocked it or however you want to call it, I could just … use it. I just thought about using my semblance the same way I’d think about opening or closing my hands, and it happened.”

“Except that you don’t really think about opening or closing your hands, do you?” Ruby said. “You just do it.”

“You sort of think about it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to control it,” Sunset said.

“Okay, yes, but you don’t think ‘I’m going to open my hand,’” Ruby said. “You just want to do something with your hand. And your semblance is the same way, or at least mine is. I want to go fast, and I go fast.”

“Yeah,” Jaune said, “that’s what I was saying to Penny.”

“This has gotten a little confusing,” Penny said. “Should I think about it or not?”

“Not consciously,” Pyrrha said, “except by wanting to use your semblance.” She paused. “I’m going to pick you up just a little by your backpack—”

“How are you going to do that, darling?” asked Rarity.

“It’s Pyrrha’s semblance; keep it to yourself,” Rainbow hissed to her.

“Well, naturally, darling, I’m the last person to gossip.”

“I think,” Pyrrha said, as though the two of them hadn’t spoken, “that you should be able to use your semblance to free yourself from mine. Are you ready?”

“Um … I suppose so,” Penny said, because she couldn’t think of how she could get more ready.

Pyrrha raised her hand, and Penny caught sight of the black outline that surrounded Pyrrha’s arm when she used her semblance a moment before she felt an invisible hand close around her, hoisting her up off the floor and into the air.

I want to use my semblance to get out of this.

I want to use my semblance.

I want to get out of this.

Please?

Nothing happened. She was hovering a few feet off the ground in the grip of Pyrrha’s semblance, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

But I don’t want to be up here! I want—

Penny gasped as she felt herself freed from the grip of Polarity, the invisible hand letting go of her as though she were greased, as she dropped back down to the floor, landing on both feet with a solid thump.

“Yes!” Ruby cried. “Great job, Penny.”

“It wasn’t the best,” Penny said. “It took me a little while to remember to feel it, instead of thinking about it.”

“Then let’s try it again, shall we?” Pyrrha said, and once more, Penny could just about make out the black outline around Pyrrha’s brown-gloved hand before she felt the invisible hand close around her, its fingers tightening before Penny was lifted.

But Penny didn’t want to be held like this, she wanted to be released, and the moment that she thought of that, she felt that, then the invisible hand released her, and she dropped to the ground again.

“That was faster this time,” she said, “wasn’t it?”

“It certainly was,” Sunset said.

“So your semblance is … nullifying other semblances?” Jaune said.

“Or ignoring them,” Twilight said. “When Penny nullified the effect of Atalanta’s semblance upon herself, I was still affected by it, and so was Ciel.”

“Indeed; I was not freed until Penny destroyed the marble,” Ciel added.

“So she can nullify other semblances on herself, then,” said Jaune.

“I’m not sure it’s that comprehensive,” Pyrrha murmured. “Based on what Penny has told us—”

“I think I see where you’re going, Pyrrha,” Blake said. “Sun, would you mind having a couple of your clones jump Penny?”

Sun blinked. “I mean … Penny, would you mind getting jumped by a couple of my clones?”

Penny thought about that for a second before she shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

"Well, okay," Sun said as he clapped the palms of his hands together.

His body glowed golden for a moment, and seemed to freeze in place as two … two golden shadows of himself, two Suns made of shining light, two golden and transparent Suns, emerged out of him, on either side of him, breaking on either side of Sun himself as Pyrrha and Ruby and all the rest made way for them.

Penny didn't move as the two of them approached her from the flanks, leaping upon her from both sides; she did nothing as the two clones barrelled into her, although she was surprised by how solid they felt for all that they looked as though they were made of light.

They were so solid that they bore her to the ground, pinned down beneath them.

I want to be free from this, Penny thought. I don't want to be stuck like this.

Unfortunately, 'stuck like this,' she very much remained, the two clones firmly ensconced on top of her.

"Um … I think it's stopped working again," Penny said plaintively from underneath the golden clones.

"No, I think it's working as I thought it might," Pyrrha said.

"Mmm," Blake murmured.

"Does that mean I can stop now?" asked Sun.

"I think so, yes," Blake said. "Thank you."

"No problem," Sun said as his clones disappeared into motes of light, which themselves faded into nothingness after mere moments. "It just cramps me up having to freeze up for a long time."

"You can't move?" Penny asked, as she picked herself up off the floor.

Sun shook his head. "Nope. The clones can move; I can't."

"So you're kind of the opposite of Blake," Penny said.

Sun raised one eyebrow. "Huh, you know, when you put it like that, I guess I kind of am." He grinned. "Pretty cool, right?"

"Not necessarily," Blake said. She smiled out of one corner of her mouth. "But, yes, pretty cool."

"Except," Sun went on, "I don't think I can infuse my clones with dust the way Blake can."

"Have you tried?" asked Twilight.

"No," Sun admitted. "Where would I get the dust?"

"I don't understand," Penny said, bringing the conversation back to herself. "Why I was able to break free from Pyrrha's semblance but not from Sun's?"

"Because Pyrrha's semblance was controlling you in a way that Sun's was not," Ciel murmured. "That was your thinking, Pyrrha, was it not?"

"It was my guess," Pyrrha said, "based on Atalanta's semblance. I thought — and I think I am right — that as you have sought for freedom, so semblances that take away that freedom, you can resist."

Penny frowned. "But weren't Sun's clones taking away my freedom by sitting on me?"

"In a physical sense, yes, I suppose they were," Pyrrha allowed, "but—"

"But," Sunset said, a smile playing across her face, "you have to allow a reflection of your soul to exist and operate in the realm of metaphor and imagery, if anything can. Sun's clones are like … it would be like Rainbow Dash pinning your arms behind your back and forcing you to the ground."

"Why me?" asked Rainbow.

"Because you're made of muscle," Sunset said, "why not you? The point is that it's a different order, a different type of thing than Atalanta making you stare at a marble, or Pyrrha picking you up. Apart from anything else, you could resist physical coercion physically; your semblance gives you the ability to resist strings that would—"

"That would otherwise be unbreakable to you," Pyrrha finished.

"That … makes sense, I think," Penny said, although she had to think in order to get her head around it. It wasn't as simple as 'run really fast' or 'boost aura' or even 'see the future.' But, when she thought about it, it made sense.

And, when she thought about it, she found that it was actually pretty cool.

I'm free, and nobody can take that away from me.

"Of course," Pyrrha went on, "we could really do with another … coercive semblance, one might say, or one which has that potential, in order to test it."

"What are you talking about?" Amber asked as she and Professor Ozpin walked into the auditorium. "What are you doing down here?"

Rainbow Dash and Ciel came to attention.

"Good morning, Professor," Sunset said.

"Hello again, Amber," said Pyrrha.

"Penny found her semblance during her match," Ruby explained. "We've been helping her figure it out."

"Really?" Amber asked. "That sounds wonderful. Congratulations, Penny."

"Yes, congratulations, Miss Polendina," Professor Ozpin added. "The discovery of a semblance is a milestone in any young huntsman or huntress's life and career."

"Thank you, Professor," Penny murmured. "I'm very grateful to all my friends for helping me with it."

"What kind of semblance is it?" Amber asked, stepping forwards, into the midst of the crowd, slipping in between Pyrrha and Sunset. "What was Pyrrha saying about needing another type of semblance?"

Penny waited for Pyrrha or Sunset or someone to explain, but instead, Pyrrha gestured towards Penny, as if to say that, as it was her semblance, she should explain it.

Penny blinked. "I … we think that … semblances that try to control me, that make me do things that I don't want to do, I can … ignore them, or break them."

"Has your aura level gone down?" Ruby asked.

"I … think so," Penny murmured. She checked her aura on her scroll. "Yes, it has, but I'm still in the green."

Ruby nodded. "So you're spending aura every time you free yourself. Not much, but a little. That's how you do it: you use a little aura and cancel out the semblance."

"The trouble is that we don't have a lot of semblances like that to try it out on to be sure," Blake explained.

Amber swallowed. "I … I've got one," she said. "Sort of. I think it might fit, anyway. I could try it on Penny, and see if it … doesn't work. If you want to."

"What kind of semblance?" asked Penny.

"I call it Enchanted Sleep," Amber said. "It will … put you to sleep, just like it says." She smiled slightly. "Or not, in your case. Everyone should stand back a little bit, or you'll be affected too; it isn't very precise."

Everyone shuffled backwards a little, clearing the space around Amber as though she were diseased, or a social pariah.

"Please," Penny said, "go on."

Amber nodded and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and bowed her head a moment, taking another deep breath.

Then, much as Pyrrha had done, she raised her hand. A glow, an amber-golden glow, began in the centre of her palm, faintly at first and then brighter, a glow enveloping her entire hand but brightest in the centre of her palm.

Motes of golden light began to rise out of Amber's hand, like dandelion fluff or sycamore seeds borne on the wind, little lights floating in the air, rising out of the nothingness, emerging from Amber's palm and wafting through the amphitheatre, blown by no wind, in Penny's direction.

Jaune yawned; Sunset rubbed at her eyes and began to blink rapidly; Ruby's head began to nod, her eyelids drooping; Rainbow also let out a lionlike roar, mouth open wide; Twilight's ears looked as though they were starting to turn red.

Penny found herself taking a step backwards as the motes of light floated through the air towards her, getting closer and closer.

Closer and closer until they began to surround her, floating around her, gathering as more and more golden lights rose from the palm of Amber's hand.

Penny's eyelids felt heavy. They had weights hanging from them; keeping them up and open was a sore trial; she found her limbs growing heavier too, her head drooping, her mind fogging.

But I don't want to go to sleep.

Penny felt a shiver run through her aura as her head snapped upwards, the golden lights around her vanishing as though they had never been to start with.

Amber lowered her hand, the stream of golden motes of light ceasing, as those that she had already conjured ceased to move but hung suspended in the air until they, too, faded from sight.

"It didn't work, did it?" she asked. "Or should I say that your semblance worked."

"Yes," Penny said, and she could not help but beam. "Yes, it worked … it worked perfectly."

"Quite a semblance of your own you've got there, Amber," Sunset muttered as she rubbed at her eyes one last time, her tail swishing from side to side.

"It's not that wonderful," Amber replied. "It takes a while to take effect, and I need to concentrate; that's why … I didn't have time to use it when…"

"Now that Penny has found her semblance," Jaune said, coming to Amber's rescue before she needed to say any more, "it needs a name."

"Hmm," Sunset murmured, cupping her chin with one hand. "How about, No Strings Attached?"

"That's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?" asked Jaune.

"It's not like Penny needs to say it every time she uses it," Sunset replied.

"Semblance Canceller?" Rainbow mused.

"A little on the nose, darling," Rarity said. "A semblance name should strive to a certain level of poetry, like Diamond in the Rough."

"Unbound?" Pyrrha suggested. "Or Unbound … something, although I admittedly can't think what. Unbound by Any?"

"Freedom," Ruby said. "The name of your semblance is Freedom."

The room fell silent. Eyes turned towards Penny.

Penny kept her own eyes upon Ruby. "Freedom," she murmured, her tongue rolling over the word. "Freedom," she repeated, a smile blossoming upon her face. "Freedom," she said, for the third and last time, nodding approvingly.

She had found Freedom, in every single way.

Photo with an F (New)

Photo with an F

As they emerged from the amphitheatre, the sun falling upon their faces once again, they were soon met by the remainder of Rainbow’s friends heading their way.

“Hey, you guys!” Pinkie cried, waving enthusiastically. “Did you get everything done?”

“I think so, yeah,” Rainbow replied.

“Great!” Pinkie cried. “Then that means we’ve got time to have some fun in the fairgrounds before Trixie’s match, right?”

“Blake and I want to watch Weiss’ match,” Rainbow said, “but yeah, apart from the details, sure, we’ve got time.”

“Awesome!” Pinkie yelled. “Because I spy with my little eye,” — she leaned forwards getting closer to Rainbow Dash as her voice acquired a sing-song cadence — “something beginning with F.”

Rainbow blinked. “F … F … fairgrounds?”

“Well, yes, that would be a right answer, but no!” Pinkie cried. “Photo Booth!”

“'Photo Booth' starts with a P, Pinkie,” Twilight murmured.

“This one doesn’t!” Pinkie declared. “These particular photo booths spell 'photo' with an F, presumably for copyright reasons, but more importantly: you all know what this means, right?”

“Uh … no,” Blake murmured. “No, I don’t.”

Pinkie gasped. “Blake doesn’t know about the photo booth!”

“She’ll pick it up pretty fast,” Rainbow replied, putting an arm around Blake’s shoulders and using it to forcefully steer her along. “Lead the way, Pinkie!”

Sun trailed after them, uninvited, but no one objected to his presence.

“'Lead the way'?” Blake repeated. “Lead the way where, where are you taking me?”

“We’re going to a photo booth that spells 'photo' with an F, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Pinkie just finished tellin’ us so.”

“Okay, but why?”

“To take silly group pictures,” Fluttershy said, as though it was obvious.

“Hope you’ve got some good funny faces,” Rainbow said.

“I think Blake’s normal stern expression would work rather well as a counterpoint,” Rarity suggested. “Unless you want to join in more conventionally, of course.”

“It’s a tradition,” Twilight explained. “Every time we go to a fair, we always get silly pictures in the photo booth if they have one. It wouldn’t be a fair without it.”

“Silly group photos?” Blake repeated. “How old are you people?”

“We’re between seventeen and nineteen, but you can deduct ten off that to get our mental age sometimes,” Rainbow said as she pulled Blake along as part of the group, all of them following where Pinkie Pie led.

“It’s a tradition!” Twilight insisted. “It’s something fun to remember that we were all there and what a great time we had.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Blake murmured. “Are you sure that you want to include me in this? Are you sure that you wouldn’t—?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Rainbow insisted. “You’re a part of this group now, and you’re going to be in our photos.”

“One of us!” Pinkie chanted. “One of us!”

A chuckle escaped Blake’s lips. “I … I’m flattered, really.”

“Ah don’t know about no flatterin’ thing,” Applejack said, “but with luck, it’ll be a little fun.”

“I’m sure it…” Blake faltered. “Wait, where are the kids?”

“My sister Maud is taking care of them for just a little bit,” Pinkie explained.

At that point, the Atlesian group disappeared into the crowd, the sounds of their voices lost amidst the general hubbub, the sight of them disappearing as people moved back and forth all around them.

“Is it really tradition?” Ruby asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Sunset informed her. She folded her arms. “You know … I should probably have some mocking or cutting remark right now, but the truth is … I was always kind of jealous about this stupid thing that they did all the time … and the fact that they had each other to do it with.” She turned to the others. “So do you guys want to go and get silly photos?” She paused. “Um, not you, Ciel, I—”

“I am not part of your group, of course,” Ciel said. “In any case, I have plans to meet up with Neon and her teammates, so I will leave you to your pleasures. Penny. Amber.”

“Perhaps we could meet up again later?” Amber suggested. “After you’re finished with your other friends?”

Ciel paused for a moment. “I would like that,” she said softly, curtsying briefly to Amber before she, too, set off, her skirt bouncing just a little with her steps, the hem rising and falling in small degrees.

That left the members of Team SAPR, and Penny, and Amber.

Sunset felt a little guilty, watching Ciel go off on her own, but at the same time … it wasn’t as though they were close, was it? Possibly, she could have handled things a little better, but Rainbow hadn’t felt the need to bring her along, so why should she?

And besides, it would have been patronising to have offered to include her just because she seemed lonely.

And it wasn’t as though she didn’t have other friends.

Sunset clasped her hands together. “So: group photos, how about it?”

“I’m not really sure what it is,” Amber murmured.

“We all cram into a space that’s really too small for us and make faces for a camera,” Sunset explained, “and that camera takes pictures of us.”

“Oh,” Amber said. She smiled. “Oh, well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather fun.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Penny added, clapping her hands together eagerly.

“It will certainly be a novel experience,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Really?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha glanced at him. “You’ve done this before?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid with my sisters,” Jaune said. “Okay, now we have to do this.”

“Why not, right?” Ruby asked. “Come on, let’s go.”

“If we can find the place,” Sunset said. “In hindsight, we probably should have been quicker off the mark in following Pinkie and the others.”

Nevertheless, she had seen the direction in which Pinkie had been leading them, and so, the six of them set off in that same direction, moving as fast as they could through the crowds that pressed so thickly all around them, plotting a course through the clumps of friends, the family groups, the big and bulky mobility aids on chairs or spider-like legs who moved brief distances, then stopped as the crowd closed in around them and made it impossible to move forward. As Sunset pushed on, trying to see over the heads of the crowd, looking up at the signs for this or that fairground stall, she felt a hand grasp hers tightly.

As Sunset looked back, she saw that it was Amber’s hand.

“I … I’d rather not lose you,” Amber explained apologetically. She glanced left and then right, at the people pressing close all around, and Sunset felt her hand trembling even as she could see her whole body moving thus. “I didn’t realise there were going to be quite so many people here. I … I’d rather not get lost.”

That was no idle worry. Looking behind her Sunset could see — or perhaps it was better to say that she could not see — that they had lost both Ruby and Penny, and it was only the tallness of Pyrrha and Jaune that meant she could still see them, the gleam of Pyrrha’s circlet beneath her red hair and Jaune’s blond mop giving them away.

Sunset smiled as she closed her fingers around Amber’s hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can go back to the dorm room for a bit, maybe—”

“No, no, I want to have some fun,” Amber insisted. “I just … I didn’t realise that fun came with so many other people around.”

“It’s an unfortunate hazard,” Sunset murmured. “Hey, Ruby! Penny! Where are you?”

“We’re here,” came Penny’s voice in reply, although it was yet unmatched by any sign of Penny’s face, or any other part of Penny for that matter. “We’re here, we just—” Penny squeezed through a momentary gap in the crowd, leading Ruby by the sleeve. “And here we are!”

“And so are we,” Pyrrha announced, as she and Jaune rejoined them also. “I hadn’t thought it was possible, but this may be even more crowded than FightFan Expo. Or perhaps I simply didn’t notice because I wasn’t really part of the crowd.” She took a look around. “To be frank, I think that these fairgrounds and the arena could both do with some stewards.”

“We’ve got the Atlesian troops and robots for security,” Ruby pointed out.

“Yes, but can you ask a robot for directions?” Pyrrha replied. “Would you want to approach an Atlesian soldier if … if you had a problem?”

“I suppose it would depend on your problem,” Penny said.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, I think you’re right about that, Penny.”

Amber looked away, her head snapping around to the right. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Hear what?”

“A child,” Amber said. “I can hear a child crying. It’s this way.” She began to pull on Sunset’s hand as she sought to lead the way, pushing into the swirling, bustling crowds. “Excuse me? Excuse me, thank you; can we just get through? Thank you very much.”

Sunset couldn’t hear what Amber heard, but she didn’t let go of Amber’s hand; she allowed herself to be pulled along as Amber now led the way, let the others follow after without prompting.

She couldn’t hear … wait. Wait, she could hear something; it wasn’t exactly easy to make out with so many other sounds, but she could hear something that might be a child crying. She marvelled that Amber had been able to make it out so clearly.

Nevertheless, Amber had heard right; as Sunset followed her through the crowd, she could see the crying child now: a little boy in a sailor suit with blond curls surrounding a chubby face which had not yet escaped its baby fat. Cheeks and eyes alike were red from weeping as sniffling sounds escaped from his trembling lips.

“Oh no,” Amber cried as she swooped down to kneel beside him. She smiled slightly, in a manner which offered encouragement without seeming to make light of the boy’s present troubles. “What’s the matter, little man? Why are you crying?”

The little boy shuffled his feet a little bit. “M-mummy says not to talk to strangers,” he mumbled.

“I’m sure that’s very good advice,” Amber said, her voice calm, soft, with a slightly breathless intonation that made Sunset think of lullabies and bedtime stories. She leaned a little closer to him as the others caught up with them. “My name is Amber Briarrose, and these are my friends, Sunset Shimmer, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, Ruby Rose, and Penny Polendina. You might have seen Penny fight earlier today, did you?”

The little boy looked up at Penny.

Penny waved. “Salutations.”

The little boy nodded. “I remember. You were on the screen.”

“There,” Amber said. “You see? We’re not strangers anymore. So you can tell us what’s wrong, and maybe we can help you?”

The little boy hesitated a second, and then another. “Mummy was talking to someone, and I got really bored, and then I let go of my balloon by accident, and then I chased it, but I couldn’t catch it, and then when I looked around, I couldn’t see Mummy anymore, and I don’t know where she is!” His lip trembled, and then a wordless wail passed between them.

“Oh, dear,” Amber murmured. “Now, now, don’t cry. It will be alright.” She looked up at the others. “Does anybody have a pocket handkerchief? And could I borrow it?”

“Here,” Sunset said, pulling one out of her pants pocket.

“Thank you,” Amber said, taking the handkerchief and beginning to wipe away the tears from the boy’s face with it. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. My friends and I are going to help you find your way back to your mother.”

“We are?” Penny asked.

“Well, we can’t just leave him here, can we?” Amber replied.

“No, no, we can’t,” Ruby agreed. “Although … I’m not sure what we ought to do to actually help.”

“Some stewards would be of great help in this situation,” Pyrrha murmured.

“We have fought our way through Mountain Glenn twice; I am sure that reuniting mother and child is not beyond our wit and talents,” Sunset declared. “That said…” She joined Amber in kneeling down in front of the child. “What’s your mother’s name, kiddo? What’s your name, for that matter?”

“I’m Hans.”

“Nice to meet you, Hans,” Sunset said. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Mummy.”

“Right,” Sunset muttered. “Of course it is.” She paused for a moment, looking around at her friends and teammates for some ideas.

“You’d think there’d be some rules for this sort of thing,” Jaune observed.

“Maybe we’re supposed to figure it out for ourselves,” Ruby suggested. “It’s like a test from Professor Ozpin. I mean, Sunset’s right; we should be able to figure this stuff out.”

“Kind of rough on Hans there,” Jaune said. “I mean, he never asked to be part of any test.”

“Jaune, let’s focus, okay?” Sunset asked in a tone that was almost imploring. She stood up, and cupped her hands together to shout through them like a bullhorn. “Has anyone lost a little boy named Hans? Has anyone got a son, Hans, that they can’t find? Because we’ve got him here!”

Nobody answered. Nobody even seemed to notice, except for a few people who looked at Sunset as though she was acting in some way strangely. Otherwise, the hustle and bustle of the fairgrounds continued on as normal, men and women and children heading this way and that, squeezing past one another, swirling in crowds, moving according to routes and conventions no less real for being unmarked and unspoken.

“Why don’t we go and look for your mother?” Pyrrha suggested, and now it was her turn to get down on the ground, her knees bending so far that you could see the boot underneath her greaves and cuisses as they came away from one another. “I’ll lift you up above the crowd, and if you see her, then you can shout to her — and to us.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Amber said.

Hans hesitated. “Mummy says I’m not supposed to go with strangers either.”

“Well, you’ve already talked to them, so what’s one more step?” asked Sunset.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

“I understand,” Amber said. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against Hans’ chubby cheek. “There are a lot of people out there who are scary and dangerous, and it’s good that your mother wants to keep you safe and away from them all.” The smile returned to her face. “But my friends are some of the nicest people in the whole world, and I promise that you’ll be perfectly safe with them.”

Sunset felt her cheeks heat up a little bit and saw that sensation mirrored in the blush colouring Pyrrha’s face.

“Okay,” Hans said. “Thank you.”

“All part of what it means to be a huntress,” Pyrrha said as she picked Hans up and placed him on her shoulders, holding onto his little legs with both hands. “Now, hold onto my hair and don’t let go.”

Hans dug his little fingers into her hair, clinging onto Pyrrha as though she were a horse, and as Pyrrha rose, she lifted him up into the air until he was higher than Sunset, higher than Jaune even; he was set higher and loftier than all of them.

“Do you remember where your mom was when you ran off?” Ruby asked. “Because that might be a good place to start.”

“Do you think she’ll still be there?” asked Penny.

“No, she’ll be looking for her son,” Ruby said, “but she’ll have started there and probably won’t have gone very far.”

“It was…” Hans started, and then trailed off. “I don’t remember.”

“Never mind,” Amber consoled. “We’ll make do. Just keep looking and don’t be afraid to say anything.”

With the added height advantage that being sat on Pyrrha’s shoulders gave him, the crowd no longer presented much of an obstacle to Hans, and as they worked their way through the crowd, it didn’t take him long to … well, the first time turned out to be someone whose hair made her look like his mom from the back, but the second time, it actually was his mother, who was effusively grateful to them for reuniting her with her boy.

“Thank you all, thank you so much,” she said.

“Yes, thank you,” Hans added.

“Not another word!” the woman snapped, as — carrying him — she turned away. “What were you thinking, running off like that? I should take you straight home this instant!”

“But Mummy—”

“Don’t you ‘but Mummy’ me, young man!”

Sunset snorted as she folded her arms. “Another successful mission.”

“It actually is, kind of,” Penny said. “You know that in Atlas, one of the missions available to huntsmen is to escort children to school?”

“Seriously?” Ruby asked. “Like … to school-school? Not to combat school, or—”

“No, these are … I don’t know how small exactly, but they’re very small children,” Penny said. “And it’s not a rare occurrence either, I think they hire a huntsman to do it every day.”

“Have you done it?” asked Ruby.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Penny said. “That’s a job for qualified huntsmen.”

“Is this one of those things where the parents have more money than they know what to do with?” suggested Sunset. “So they’re hiring a huntsman to walk their children to school?”

“I don’t think they have too much money in Mantle,” Penny replied.

“In Mantle?” Sunset repeated. “That is … in Mantle, really?”

“They probably just want their kids to be safe,” Jaune said.

“Safe from what?” Sunset asked.

“Bad drivers?” suggested Jaune. “Anyway, I bet if you look at the job board here in Vale or in Mistral, you’ll find the exact same thing. Atlas isn’t that different from everywhere else. People love their kids and want them to be safe everywhere. It just … I don’t know, the word hasn’t gotten around like it seems to have in Atlas.”

“Leaving all of that aside,” Sunset said, “how did you hear that little boy? I’ve got four ears, and I couldn’t say that I heard him.”

Amber shrugged. “Maybe … your four ears aren’t very good?” she suggested, smiling slightly.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose unamusedly.

“I don’t know,” Amber said. “I just … I heard him, I … I heard him. I can’t explain why I could hear him when you couldn’t, but to me, it was as clear as a bell.”

“For which I am sure he is very grateful,” Pyrrha said.

“Maybe not when his mom gets through with him,” Ruby muttered.

“Amber!” the shout from Dove interrupted them before anyone could say anything else; he emerged sideways from out of the crowd. “I didn’t realise you were finished with Professor Ozpin.”

“Yes, for a little while, I’m sorry,” Amber said, taking a step forward to kiss Dove on the cheek. “I just got a little caught up in things. But now you’re here, you can come with us to take photographs. Can’t he?” she asked, looking at Sunset.

“Unless anyone has any objections,” Sunset said, because there were very few grounds to exclude Dove without also excluding Amber, and Sunset had no desire to be seen as churlish in what was, after all, supposed to be a bit of fun.

And Dove … was a pretty decent guy, wasn’t he, really? Amber loved him, and he seemed reasonably worthy of her love. Why not let him be in their photos, if Amber was? In days to come, when he and Amber both had disappeared off into hiding, they might look back at their photographs and their memories and miss him as much as they missed her.

“It’s fine by me,” said Ruby.

And so, no one else having any objections either, and nobody having changed their minds upon the subject, they resumed their journey towards the photo booth that couldn’t spell. Amber took Sunset’s hand once more, even as she held Dove’s hand with her other, and thus, they made their way through the crowds until they came to the booth that spelled ‘photo’ with an F. As in, the only name that they could come up with for a photo booth was ‘Photo Booth’, which then had to changed to ‘Foto Booth’.

For copyright reasons.

Regardless, there were two booths, both of them rather flimsy-looking cubicles with walls that looked barely thicker than cardboard and beige curtains covering the entrances, but both of them looking reassuringly like they could fit a decent number of people. Sun was loitering outside of one of them, his tail twitching back and forth.

"Hey, Sun," Ruby said. "Whatcha doin' out there?"

"Wouldn't they let you in with the rest of them?" asked Sunset.

"It wouldn't have been right," Sun replied. "I mean, the rest of them don't really know me, and I'd only get in the way. But Blake and I are going to get our own pictures later, so it's all good."

"Maybe I should—" Dove began.

"It's fine, Dove, you're fine; if it wasn't, we would have told you so by now," Sunset assured him. To Sun, she said, "I'm a little surprised they're still in there, to be honest."

From inside one of the photo booths, there came a shrieking sound that sounded like a mingling of Twilight, Pinkie, and Fluttershy's voices, followed by a succession of solid thumps.

"I think they're finding it a bit of a tight squeeze in there," Sun said.

"Will we be alright?" asked Penny, sounding a trifle anxious.

"Yeah," Sunset said. "Yeah, we'll be fine."

"Well," Pyrrha murmured, gently placing a hand on Amber's shoulder.

Ah, right, yes. Sunset felt a twinge of shame for having forgotten. "If you'd rather go somewhere else, then there is a lot of other things that we can enjoy while we're—"

"I'd like to try this," Amber said. "I … I don't know if … once we get inside, I'll let you know if I can manage. I…" She smiled. "I'd like something to remember you all by, too."

Sunset nodded. "Alright then," she said. "Let's get in there before someone snatches the booth out from under us.

One of the minor benefits of being Vytal Festival contestants was that the fairground activities — although not the food — were free, presumably on the grounds that there wouldn't be all of this hoopla without them, or perhaps taking pity on the students who might not have very much money. Either way, all Sunset had to do was hold up her scroll to a little reader beside the curtained-off entrance to the booth, and a beeping sound and the flash of a green light provided her cue to go on in.

The back wall of the booth was a sort of turquoise, slightly heavier on the green than the blue, and sat in the middle of the booth was something that resembled a table more than a bench, with more space at the back than would be required for someone to sit on it, even sitting all the way back with their knees on the wood.

Ruby, Penny, Amber, and Dove sat down at the front, while Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune knelt down on their knees behind them, not set too high above the others while still being visible over their heads. As they took their places, they could hear the voices of the Atlesians in the next booth.

"Okay," Twilight said, "Pinkie, get down from the ceiling for a second; Applejack, you and Rarity—"

"Should one of us be on the ceiling?" asked Penny.

"I wouldn't advise it, since none of us are Pinkie Pie," Sunset said. "Just … everyone do something fun."

"Can … can we do something sweet, first?" asked Amber tentatively. "I … I want to remember this."

There was a moment of silence as Pyrrha snaked her arms around Jaune and Sunset's shoulders. "I think that we can manage something sweet," she said.

Both Sunset and Jaune reached up and placed a hand on top of one of Pyrrha's; Penny tried to put her arm around Ruby but succeeded in getting her in a headlock instead, although Ruby didn't look too discomfited by it and joined Penny in giving a peace sign to the camera.

Amber leaned on Penny's shoulder, even as she reached out and took Dove's hand — both of his hands, in fact, the two enfolding hers; she blinked rapidly, almost as though she were trying to blink back tears.

"Amber," Sunset murmured. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Amber said quickly. "Yes, everything's fine, I just … I wish … I'm really very happy right now."

There was a bright flash of light as the first picture was taken.

"Aww," Ruby said. "We're happy too, Amber."

"Yep," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "Hey, Pyrrha, I'm sorry about this."

"Sorry about wah!" Pyrrha cried, as Sunset grabbed her by the arm and the sash and, arms straining, pitched her forwards, half-tossing her into Penny and Ruby.

There was a bright flash of light as the image froze on Pyrrha, arms flailing, face a mask of surprise, while Penny and Ruby were thrown forwards, Jaune was caught by an errant kick from Pyrrha's boots, and Dove pulled Amber out of the way.

Pyrrha, Penny, and Ruby landed in a heap on the floor in front of the table. Pyrrha, her hair looking slightly more frazzled than it had been a moment earlier, sat up and gave Sunset something of a glare with her green eyes.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked.

"Not necessary, no," Sunset allowed. With one hand she gestured to the screen. "But worthwhile, I hope you will agree."

Pyrrha's mouth twisted into something like a pout as she glanced towards the screen, which yet preserved the image of herself in her astonishment.

"Startlement can be amusing, I suppose," she allowed, before she held out her hand towards Sunset.

Sunset just had time to notice the black outline around her glove before she was hoisted into the air by her cuirass, gripped in an invisible hand which, unlike Penny, she had not the power to get out of.

The camera captured her in mid-flight, suspended like a flying character in a play as though the Atlesians in the next booth were hauling her up with wires.

The next shot captured Sunset falling as Pyrrha dropped her down onto the wooden table.

The next shot after that captured Sunset's laughter.

She gave a thumbs-up to Pyrrha. "Perfect."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Really? I … I'm happy to oblige."

Sunset rolled onto her side, propping up her head on her elbow as she offered a sultry look, or at least what she imagined a sultry look, straight to the camera.

Her face was hidden behind that of Penny as she popped up in front of her.

"Oh," Penny said. "Sorry, Sunset."

"Don't worry, Penny," Sunset said, ruffling Penny's hair with one hand. "That was perfect too."

After that, smaller numbers of the group took the booth for themselves for a picture or two: Jaune and Pyrrha made a heart with their hands; Sunset and Pyrrha stood back to back; Amber and Dove spent so long in there together that Sunset got a little worried, only to pull back the curtain and find them making out alone; Penny had a photo with Ruby, then Pyrrha, then Sunset each in turn.

Once they had all the pictures they wanted — and possibly more pictures of Amber and Dove kissing than anyone but them needed — Ruby's stomach began to growl.

"Good point," Sunset said. "We should look for something to eat."

That proved to be easier said than done. Well, to be fair, finding somewhere selling food was quite easy; there were lots of places across the fairgrounds that were selling anything from noodles to burgers to waffles to macaroni, and while a lot of options tended towards the meaty, it would have been unfair to say that there was nothing for the palates of Sunset or Amber. No, the issue was not availability, rather a combination of queuing up — there were long lines everywhere — and seats, or the lack thereof.

The large crowds that made navigating the fairgrounds a tricky prospect meant that the designated seating area in the southeast corner of the fairground was completely full up, every seat sat on, every table surrounded by faces of all ages, and people without seats surrounding the area like predators watching the herds, pacing back and forth as they waited for seats and tables to become available. No sooner did one group rise than someone would snatch up the table in an instant, with barely seconds passing without chairs occupied.

"That doesn't bode well," Jaune murmured.

They wandered up to Benni Haven's, only to find the situation was no better there, every single one of the tables and chairs that she had put outside being now taken up and people obviously waiting for them to become vacant.

Sunset sighed. "How do we feel about grabbing take-out and … taking it back to our room?"

"Do we have any other options?" asked Ruby.

"There's the rooftop," Jaune suggested. "The view is better from up there than from the dorm room."

Sunset considered that. "You've got a point about that. Any objections?"

Amber shook her head. "That sounds fine."

So they picked up something — noodles, with various additions or none at all, served by an old guy with a strangely familiar face — and made the short trek up the various staircases of the dorm room, feeling the heat of the cardboard noodle boxes in their hands, until Sunset opened the door and led the way out onto the rooftop.

Only when she got there did she find that Team WWSR had beaten them to it.

Cardin was squatting on one of the pipes that ran along the back wall, Russel was sat cross-legged on the roof itself nearby, Flash was leaning against the wall on the other side of the door, while Weiss had made a makeshift chair for herself out of a pale white glyph and was sitting on it suspended about level with Flash's face, her legs dangling.

"Oh," Sunset murmured. "I didn't expect to find you guys here."

"In spite of the fact that many people seem to have difficulty remembering this, this is the rooftop above our dorm room," Weiss replied, a touch of asperity entering her voice. "We have as much right to be here as anyone, and more than most." She paused a moment. "That being said, there's plenty of room if you'd like to join us."

"Are you sure?" asked Ruby, peeking around Sunset. "We don't want to disturb you."

"It's fine," Weiss assured them. "There's nothing that we need our privacy for."

"Thank you," Sunset murmured as she walked forward, sidling around Weiss and her glyph and approaching the edge of the roof, the others following on behind her.

"Yes, thank you, Weiss," Penny said. "It's very kind of you."

"No, it isn't," Weiss said. "But at the same time … I appreciate the compliment, today of all days."

Sunset frowned, wondering just what she meant by that and wondering whether Weiss would appreciate being asked. Instead, turning to face Weiss and the rest of Team WWSR, she said, "So, you guys couldn't find anywhere to sit and eat either?"

"You could say that," Weiss murmured.

"Yeah, you could say that," Russel said, almost smirking. "You could also say that we're hiding."

"'Hiding'?" Jaune repeated. "Hiding from what?"

Russel's eyebrows climbed so high that it was only his lack of hair that prevented them from disappearing out of sight. "Really, mate? Really?"

Jaune looked at Weiss. "Oh! Oh, yeah, right."

"What is it?" asked Amber.

"It doesn't matter," Sunset told her.

"My father … became rather embarrassed recently," Weiss explained. "Some of his employees turned out to have been behaving poorly, and he was blamed for it. And, as his daughter, I have been blamed by some also. Hence we dine on the rooftop, which is out of bounds to visitors."

"But … everyone will see you once the match starts," Penny pointed out. "Won't they?"

"One would hope so," Weiss murmured, "but when the match starts, I will be able to defend myself, in a sense at least; I will let my actions speak for me, in ways that words never could."

Penny blinked. "But nothing that you can do in the tournament will make any difference to anything about your father, or the Schnee Dust Company," she said. "I … I don't understand."

"You understand well enough, I think," Weiss said. "I cannot hope to launder the reputation of my father or his company by my victories, by the victories I hope to win, but if I can win some glory for myself, then there may be those who will be able to overlook the name I could not choose in favour of the deeds they have seen me do."

"Glory in arms wipes away many sins," Pyrrha murmured. "Especially those sins that were not of one’s own choosing."

"It isn't only Weiss who could do with that," Cardin muttered. "We could all use a little sprinkling of tournament glory to season our reputations right now."

"Speak for yourself," Russel said. "Nobody thinks anything bad about me except because I'm associated with you three racists."

"Russel," Weiss said. "Don't."

"I was only joking."

"And it wasn't funny," Weiss said. "Don't."

"Unfortunately," Flash said, "he's not exactly wrong."

"Weiss, I can understand for all that it isn't right," Sunset said, "but the Cardin stuff? Water under the bridge at this point, surely?"

Cardin shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. The point is, it would be nice to have something to point to instead of that when people talk about this team."

"Indeed," Weiss murmured. "This team does not enjoy the exalted reputation of Team Sapphire; we will not walk into the arena trailing clouds of glory in our wake. We…" She trailed off, and fell silent. "Do any of you ever think about the road not taken?"

Pyrrha took a step to one side. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Weiss said, and then fell momentarily silent as she chewed upon some fries. Only after she had swallowed did she resume speaking, "I mean, think back to Initiation—"

"That seems a really long time ago," Ruby said.

"Indeed," Weiss murmured. "Indeed. So much has happened since then, and yet … when we look back, we can recall our plans, yes? Those of us who had plans, who knew which partners we wanted, and perhaps what teams?" She looked at Pyrrha. "I suppose it will come as no surprise to you to learn that I was set on you being my partner, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Yes, I rather gathered that."

"And I still maintain that we would have made a very good team," Weiss said. "But, at the same time, I am glad that I have not soiled your reputation by association with my … current troubles. You deserve … you don't deserve that."

"Perhaps more to the point," Pyrrha replied, "I think you'd have to concede that we have both been very fortunate in the partners that fate chose for us."

"'Fate'?" Ruby said. "We found Jaune pinned to a tree with your weapon."

The eyes of Team WWSR — and Penny, to whom all this was also new — turned to Pyrrha.

Pyrrha's face began to redden somewhat. "Well … my sense of destiny allows me a degree of freedom of choice. I am neither bound nor wholly beholden to random acts of chance."

Cardin snorted. "You should try that excuse next time you get caught cheating."

"Pyrrha doesn't cheat," Sunset said.

"Except in matters of the heart, it would seem," Weiss said softly, a smile playing across her pale lips.

Pyrrha's face remained as red as it had been before. "I … it all worked out well in the end, did it not?"

"Oh, I'm not judging you," Weiss assured her. "You knew what you wanted, and you pursued it; who can fault you for that? However, it does make speculating on what might have been a little pointless."

“It’s pointless because there is so much that could have changed, so many decisions, so many chances that we had to do things differently,” Sunset said, “that trying to work out what might have happened is … anything might have happened.”

And, in some cases, if you wonder too hard, then you might not like the answer that looks back at you.

“Sometimes,” Ruby murmured. “Sometimes, it’s better not to know, not to think about it, just … accept what is. Sometimes … sometimes, it’s better that way.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. Something we agree on; that’s surprising enough, but if we agree for the same reasons, I’ll be very surprised indeed.

Weiss sighed. “You’re both right, of course. All we can really do is face the world and the future that lies before us. Still … I would have said that there was a certain irony in the fact that I wanted to be Pyrrha’s partner, Jaune wanted to be my partner, and in the end, we neither got the partner that we wanted, but … well, once I found out that Pyrrha had arranged everything—”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Pyrrha insisted.

“No, no, you simply…” Weiss paused. “I suppose I simply wondered, because, as I was about to say, Team Wisteria does not enjoy the sort of reputation that Team Sapphire possesses, if you and I had been partners, then we would share a reputation, for good or ill, but as it is … nothing comes before us into the arena, I fear, but the odium of our unfortunate connections, the slanders that we do not deserve but have built up around us nonetheless by association. That … it’s not good, obviously, but at the same time … if there is anywhere we can give good account of ourselves and win a positive reputation in our own right, unconnected to our names, our pasts, what nonsense we’ve become associated with … if there is anywhere, then it is the Amity Colosseum, no? Here, we may show that we are more than names.”

“If we wish,” Pyrrha said.

Weiss nodded her head, conceding the point. “Yes, if we wish.”

Pyrrha smiled. “You are confident, then?” she asked. “I daresay you would not speak so if you did not believe that you could win at least the first round.”

“Team Indigo aren’t that tough,” Cardin said.

“You shouldn’t be overconfident,” Dove warned.

“I’m not overconfident,” Cardin replied. “They’re the ones who are probably overconfident because, like Weiss says, we haven’t got a reputation except a bad one. Nobody thinks that we’re any good, that we have it together. And those Indigo girls are full of themselves anyway; they’ll think they have this in the bag, and they’ll make mistakes because of it.”

“That is the hope,” Weiss said. “Otherwise … as we proved at the Last Shot, Team Wisteria is not the mess that it once was. We will prove it again, before the eyes of Remnant.”

Pyrrha nodded. “In Mistral, it is said that that which we inherit, in accomplishment or virtue, will be coated over by our own deeds for good or ill; only by doing nothing will you preserve the gold, or coal, exactly as it was bequeathed to you.”

“Whatever I may do,” Weiss said. “Whatever the outcome of this tournament, whatever happens to me, to all of us, in future, one thing I certainly do not intend to do is nothing at all.” She paused. “Since fate, and you, saw to it that we cannot be teammates, then we must be rivals, for this tournament at least.” She lifted her chin up, so that she almost seemed to be looking down at Pyrrha in spite of the fact that, even elevated as Weiss was, Pyrrha was still the taller. “Look for me in the final rounds.”

Pyrrha took a step towards her. “I will,” she said. “And I will look forward to it.”

We're Not About to Give Up (New)

We’re Not About to Give Up

“Here she comes! Here she comes!” shouted Diana Archer, jumping up and down in front of the TV. “Here she comes, it’s Arslan. This is going be wicked!”

I’ve got no reason to be nervous, Arslan thought, as she waited in the dark to go out — to lead her team out — into the light, into the arena, into the gaze of the cameras and the crowds.

No reason to be nervous at all.

I am the Golden Lion of Mistral; I’ve contested the finals of the Mistral Regional Tournament four years running; I won my first tournament — the Eleusinoi Junior Tournament — when I was just ten years old; I’ve won the Synoikia twice, I won the melee in honour of Lady Swift Foot’s birthday last year, and I won the games held by Councillor Ward to celebrate his wedding, and I’ve won a dozen other games and tournaments up and down Anima. I have fought single combats, and I have fought vast sprawling melees. I have fought in arenas great and small, all the way up to the great Colosseum in Mistral itself. I have no reason to be nervous.

And yet…

It never left her, not completely. No matter how many fights she won, no matter how many trophies she picked up, no matter the prize money that made its way into her bank account, there was a part of her that would always be that kid from the lower slopes shuffling nervously into view, looking around at the ladies and gentlemen with their dust and their armour and their weapons, and feeling like she didn’t belong.

Like she was nothing but a grubby peasant intruding into the domain of princes.

It wasn’t an easy feeling to shake off, no matter how many times she won, no matter how many of her fellow gladiators were just as poor as she’d started off, or more; some of them were even faunus. Nevertheless … the crowd might love you, and Arslan flattered herself that the crowd did love her, but there was always a sense, at least Arslan had felt a sense, that the arena didn’t really belong to people like her. It belonged to P-money, it belonged to Phoebe, it belonged to the bluebloods with the long lines of their ancestors; people like Arslan were admitted upon the sufferance of their talent.

That was why she kept a suitcase full of lien under the bed back home in Mistral in case that sufferance should ever be withdrawn.

Once poor, never rich, as the saying went. They might also have said ‘once lowborn, never high,’ and there would have been even more truth to that.

Some feelings never went away, no matter what.

No matter how much she knew that they made no sense at all.

This wasn’t even Mistral; this was the Amity Colosseum, floating over Vale, where they did things differently, where they had ideas about equality and the like; this space, this battlefield belonged to her as much as it did to anyone else.

And yet still, she felt nervous.

To tell the truth, Arslan wasn’t sure that she would want to banish these nerves even if she could; complacency was the enemy of the greatest of warriors: she had seen gladiators stride into the arena with puffed out chests and heads held high and then proceed to get their asses handed to them with all the trimmings in the space of mere minutes. You invited that kind of thing if you acted like that. Hubris was always followed by nemesis. And more practically, you needed a little edge about you, a little wariness; it was what kept you sharp, kept you on point.

It was what would bring you the win, even if your opponent turned out to be tougher than you expected.

And Arslan expected her opponent to be a little tough. She didn’t know this Team CFVY personally, but she’d asked around, and apparently, they were good. They were second years, and the word was that Professor Ozpin liked them. They were his favourites in the sophomore year, which meant that they got extra training missions and the like, which wasn’t necessarily Arslan’s definition of favouritism, but okay.

Not everyone was a fan of the team personally, but everyone Arslan had spoken to acknowledged their ability.

Of course, a little healthy nervousness wasn’t the same as defeatism; she’d fought tough adversaries before, and beaten some of them. She’d even fought multiple tough opponents at once, usually during melees when a group of contestants had decided to gang up on her to take her out of the running.

It didn’t work.

Arslan took a deep breath in and out. It was important not to swagger into the arena believing that you couldn’t possibly lose, but at the same time, it was just as important to walk in there believing that you could win.

And she could win.

Not least for the crowd above her, seated in the stands, who wanted her to win, who wanted Mistral and Haven to win, who had come a long way to watch a display of superlative skill in combat.

And Arslan, for one, didn’t mean to disappoint them.

She could hear them, up above, as they waited for the match to start. Team CFVY were late arriving, and so Team ABRN was being held here in the tunnel while they waited upon their opponents to finally show up. And while they waited, so the crowd waited too, and while they waited, they clapped their hands together rhythmically; Arslan could hear it like thunderclaps echoing down out of the heavens, clapping their hands, stamping their feet, the unison noises shaking the corridor around them.

And they were singing.

“Sweet Caroline!

Bah Bah Bah!

Good times never seemed so good!”

“I haven’t heard that one before for a Haven team,” Reese observed.

“That’s because it’s one of mine,” Arslan said. “The Arslan Army adopted it. I’m not sure why.”

“Of course it is,” Bolin muttered.

Reese stared at Arslan. “The … Arslan Army?”

“Her fan club,” Bolin said dismissively.

“Don’t sneer just because you’re jealous,” Arslan said.

Bolin shook his head. “I’m not…” He stopped. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Arslan asked.

“No,” Bolin said.

Arslan took a step towards him. “You’ve got something to say, then say it; come on.”

“Guys, come on,” Reese said, “Let’s not fight amongst ourselves; the enemy is waiting for us on the other side.”

“Or not, which is why we’re stuck waiting here,” Nadir pointed out.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“There are a lot of things that I could say,” Bolin declared. “About you, about your leadership or the lack thereof, about the fact that the only reason you’re team leader is because you’re a famous fighter … I don’t like you, and I’m not ashamed to say so. I’ve got no reason to be ashamed to say so. But I’m also a Mistralian and a Haven student, the latest of three generations of Horis to attend Haven Academy, and I want our kingdom and our school to do well in this tournament. And, with Pyrrha Nikos fighting for Beacon, I think you’re the best chance for Haven to win glory alongside Mistral. And so … use me as you will; I’m at your service.”

Arslan stared up at him for a moment, silent; surprise had temporarily left her silenced. She hadn’t expected him to say that … probably because she hadn’t made much of an effort to get to know him.

You know he’s got a point about the team leader thing.

“I’ll fight to be worthy of your confidence,” she muttered. “As for using you … what I need from the three of you are your best efforts and time. Maybe I can take on all four members of this team at once, but four on one is … tricky.” That was an understatement, at least against skilled opponents. She’d done it — once — at Ochre Gorgoneion’s wedding feast, and it had been a tough fight; only Pyrrha had ever pushed her harder. If she could avoid it, she would. “If you can take any of them out, then great; if not, then just hold them down, chip away at their aura a little bit, and I’ll take care of the rest piece by piece.”

“Where do you plan to start?” asked Reese.

Arslan considered that. Team CFVY. Where to start? Where to start? “The big guy,” she said, “Yatsuhashi.”

If her guess was right, the rest of the team would try and use him as the anvil on which their hammer would break Arslan and the rest of Team ABRN, but Arslan had fought big guys before, and on his own, there was a good chance that he’d be unable to match her speed. She’d take him out before any of his teammates could drive her onto his sword. After that … the faunus girl, Velvet; people whom Arslan had talked to about her said that she hid her weapon, nobody knew what it was, while in combat, she was said to be … from what she’d heard, it was as if the girl had a hundred different styles and none at all. She was their trump card.

Arslan would go for her next.

Reese nodded. “Yatsuhashi, got it. The big guy. Okay, we’ll leave him to you to begin with. Right, fellas?”

Bolin nodded. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

Nadir said nothing.

“Nadir?” Reese asked.

Nadir shrugged.

“Nadir,” Bolin said sharply. “This is about Haven and about Mistral, not about us.”

Nadir glanced at him. “You sound like an Atlesian.”

“I sound like a patriot — and a proud Haven student — which I am,” Bolin replied. “This tournament is bigger than our egos.”

Arslan felt as though his words were needles pricking at her, and not in a pleasant acupuncture sort of way, either. “Listen, I … I know that I haven’t been a very good team leader, and while I say that part of that is because you wound me up … I know that part of it was also because I was just here for the tournament, and I didn’t really care about being a leader, or a huntress, or a good student, or anything like that. But I’ll do better next year. I understand better now; I want to be a huntress.”

“A legendary huntress,” Reese observed.

“Well, duh!” Arslan said. “If you’re going to do something, you might as well try and be famous doing it.”

Bolin snorted. “We’ll see,” he said. “But for now, we’ll cover you as best we can.”

“Will Team Coffee and Team Auburn please make their way out onto the arena to start the match,” Doctor Oobleck phrased it as a demand, not a request.

Arslan cricked her neck to one side. “Looks like this is it. Are we ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” Nadir murmured.

“Okay then,” Arslan said, and strode out of the darkness and into the light.

Into the light, into the sight, into the view of the cameras. Arslan could see herself in close up on the big screens that were visible from all angles in the coliseum. She smiled for the cameras, she waved to them, she blew a kiss to them as she led Team Auburn out across the grey-white metal.

“Team Auburn of Haven!” Professor Port boomed, but his voice barely carried over the applause and the cheering, the exultant sounds of the crowd that had redoubled when Arslan made her appearance.

I am gonna miss this, Arslan thought as she turned on her toe to face the home crowd behind her, raising her hands in the air to prompt even more and louder cheering, a renewed burst of singing, as though she were a conductor instructing the orchestra to give it a bit more of the old fortissimo.

This … it might not strictly be real, it might not be a substitute for love or anything like that, it might be temporary and would disappear quickly enough, but … but it was still pretty cool.

Maybe I can still fight the odd fight here and there, do just the Synoikia or the Theseia, or the Eleusinoi. Or just do weddings and the like.

No, no, that wouldn’t really be in the spirit of it, would it?

Or would it? Being a huntress is a job at the end of the day, and if I make money from the odd fight here and there, then I can afford to take jobs that I wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise.

That sounds like an excuse.

I can think about all of this later. For now, I need to keep my head in the game.

“And Team Coffee of Beacon!” Professor Port declared as Arslan’s opponents made their way out from the opposite tunnel. People were cheering for them too, but Arslan flattered herself that they weren’t getting so many cheers as Team ABRN was.

The two teams met in the centre of the arena, facing off against one another. The faces of Team CFVY were displayed on the big board on their side of the battlefield, displaying the faces to go alongside the names in case anyone didn’t know.

Coco Adel: the leader of the team, a girl who was about as tall as P-money, with a pale complexion and sunglasses that hid her eyes from view. A black beret sat on her head but didn’t hide the brown hair that was hanging down around her head in a bob cut. She wore black pants and a brown sweater that looked too big at the arms and too small at the waist — as in, Arslan could see her waistline — with a black corset on the outside that Arslan … Arslan was no expert, but she was pretty sure that Coco was wearing it wrong if you could see the seam, which hadn’t been done up properly, from the front. A black scarf enveloped her neck, and a half-dozen or so black chains must have been dangling from there too, although Arslan could only see them when they dropped below the scarf. She had a large, boxy handbag in one hand, and she was swinging it lightly back and forth.

Fox Alistair was as tall as his team leader, a dark-skinned young man with a shock of red hair that was untidy-looking in that very specific way that takes a lot of effort to achieve each morning — Arslan knew that because she’d gone through a hair gel phase herself when she was about thirteen-fourteen, spending time sculpting it every morning to get exactly the look that she wanted; the trouble was the hair gel wreaked havoc on her skin, and she’d eventually realised that whatever coolness she was accruing with great hair, she was losing again thanks to truly terrible acne. Fox was wearing a pair of black pants, just like his leader, and an orange-red sleeveless vest that left his muscular, heavily scarred arms visible to view down to his lower forearms, which were covered by the black fingerless gloves that covered his hands. Around his wrists, he wore a pair of massive blades, sweeping backwards like wings until the point was higher than his shoulders, almost level with his pale, white, sightless eyes.

Velvet Scarlatina looked to be very tall, but mostly because of her rabbit ears sticking up out of the top of her head, which didn’t really count in Arslan’s opinion; without them, she reckoned that she, Arslan, was a bit taller. Velvet was slightly built, and the layers that she was wearing weren’t doing much to change that. She was wearing, or at least Arslan thought she was wearing, a black bodysuit, with brown pants and a muddy brown top over it, with a gap between them at her waist, and gilded, segmented pauldrons on her shoulders and gilded bracers on her wrists. High black boots, very high boots, rose as far as her thighs and her navel, so that very little of her pants could be seen. Her hair was a brown a little darker than her outfit and fell down straight past her waist. Arslan couldn’t see her weapon, but she was wearing a box at the back of her waist, which probably had the weapon in it; she was just waiting to get it out.

Yatsuhashi Daichi was a giant of a man, eight or maybe nine feet tall, absolutely ridiculous, and heavily built to boot with a bull neck and arms like tree trunks. He shaved his dark hair close to the top of his head, and his eyes were dark and a little bit beady. He wore a green robe, on only one shoulder a lot like Arslan herself, over a black muscle shirt, with brown pants and black boots partly covered by grey iron greaves over his legs. He wore chunky olive green vambraces over his wrists and a nice looking manica, of the same colour but tinged with darker green edges, covering his left shoulder and most of his arm with only a slight gap between that and the vambrace. In his right hand, he held a sword that, while it was not quite as big as he was, was quite big enough, a thick, bronze-coloured blade that was broader at the base than the arm of its wielder and curved towards the tip, so that Arslan it almost looked less like a sword and more like the jawbone of some ancient creature like you might see in the Mistral Museum, a sea monster or a dragon or something.

He held it in one hand at the moment, but Arslan expected him to switch to using it two-handed when the battle began in earnest.

“So,” Coco said, “I hear that one of you is some bigshot tournament fighter back in Mistral.”

Arslan wondered if she was being baited by being implied to be not that famous. But, the truth was, that she was really only Mistral-famous. You had to win the Mistral Tournament like Pyrrha to escape from Mistralian fame and become world famous.

“Yeah,” she said, “that’s me, I guess.”

A smirk flashed across Coco’s face. “But you decided to come here and see some real fighting, huh? Don’t worry, kid; we’ll take you to school.”

Arslan didn’t reply. There was no point. She was going to reply with her fists soon enough.

The rings that brought up the different biomes that would divide the arena began to spin around and around. Arslan didn’t see the point of them really; you didn’t need rocks or fake mountains or a lake in the middle to enjoy the ancient art of combat — okay, yes, the Colosseum in Mistral could be flooded, but still — in fact, Arslan would go so far as to say that they were an active detriment; gimmicks like that took away from the essence of the sport, the purity of the combat.

And besides, cameras or not, surely it was better when the audience could see everything?

And it wasn’t as if they’d had the ability to create all these fancy environments eighty years ago when the tournament started, so you couldn’t appeal to its history or anything. No, someone too clever by half — an Atlesian, probably — had sat down and thought that the thing that combat as a sport really, really needed was a forest coming out of the floor.

Idiots.

Still, they were here now, and Arslan was stuck with it the same as anyone else; nobody was listening to her opinion that all an arena needed was a floor to fight on. And so the images spun around and around before settling upon an icy biome for Team CFVY’s half of the arena and a fiery one behind Team ABRN.

An ice shelf, mostly flat but littered here and there by great icy stalactites rising up out of the ground, spikes protruding out of them, bounded by a semicircular wall of ice that curled in on itself like a skating track, rose out of the floor behind Team CFVY.

Behind Team ABRN, the plain metal floor was replaced by something that looked like smouldering lava, if probably not so dangerous to touch; it also had things sticking up out of the ground, although Arslan wasn’t so sure what they were supposed to be.

It didn’t really matter. She didn’t intend to go back.

Arslan cracked her knuckles.

“Three!” Professor Port called out, his voice echoing across the arena.

Yatsuhashi gripped his sword in two hands, just as Arslan had expected he would.

“Two!” Doctor Oobleck cried.

The members of Team CFVY settled into fighting stances, ready to go.

Arslan kept her eyes on Yatsuhashi.

“One!” Professor Port yelled. “Begin!”

Arslan sprang at her opponent like a lion, racing forward, both hands clenched into fists, back hunched to put her low to the ground. She could just about hear the sound of Reese’s pulse pistols going off, the rattle of Nadir’s rifle, and she trusted her teammates to at least buy her a little time before her opponents started ganging up on her.

For now, her focus was Yatsuhashi.

He seemed to know it, because he kept his eyes on her just as she raced towards him. He didn’t advance to meet her, but as she closed the distance between them, he raised that massive jawbone of a sword of his and slashed at her in a great swinging stroke like he was harvesting the barley in the fields or something, a stroke that swung across all the space in front of him.

Arslan leapt over the sword as it swung at her, jumping over it as though it was a skipping rope being swung by her friends, letting the enormous blade pass harmlessly underneath her before she landed back on the ground.

Yatsuhashi reversed his stroke, swinging his sword again, this time with the flat of the blade leading the way because he didn’t have time — or didn’t want to take the time — to turn it around. Obviously, he knew it would still hurt if he smacked Arslan with it. Either way, he swung the blade back, and Arslan jumped over the sword again, but this time, as the sword passed underneath her, she laid one foot down upon the swinging blade and kicked off it, off and upwards and flying straight for Yatsuhashi’s face.

His mouth widened in an O of surprise as Arslan shot towards him. He tried to bring up his sword, but the blade was moving too slowly compared to her. He let go of his sword with one hand and brought up one meaty hand to shield his face.

Arslan reached out and grabbed two of his fingers, wrapping one hand around them — they were big and meaty enough — and using them to swing herself up, over the hand that tried to grab her, so that she could bring her foot straight down onto the top of his head like a ton of bricks.

Yatsuhashi groaned as his head bent forwards. Arslan landed on the ground in front of him, inside his guard, and immediately began to throw punch after punch, a furious flurry of blows all aimed at his gut for the simple reason that she couldn’t really reach much higher than that on this tree of a man, but that didn’t matter because she was hitting him, knocking his aura down, driving him backwards onto the ice.

He swung blindly for her, not with his sword but with his free arm, flailing with it to drive her off. Arslan ducked beneath his swinging arm, rolling along the metal at the centre of the arena, rolling up into a low crouch.

As she rolled, one hand reached up for her necklace of fire dust crystals, ripping one away and igniting it with a touch of her aura, turning the crystal into a fireball that she flung at Yatushashi.

He blocked the fireball with his sword, but although the fire dissipated harmlessly, the explosion blinded him for a second as Arslan closed the distance between them once again.

She had another fire dust crystal clasped between her fingers.

Yatsuhashi didn’t slash at her again; rather, as Arslan charged, he raised his sword and brought it straight down towards her. Arslan rolled, feeling the vibration of the blade hitting the ground.

She came up and threw another fireball at him before he could bring the sword up again.

The fireball hit him square in the chest; he hadn’t been able to defend himself in time. The blast made him recoil backwards, onto the ice.

Arslan leapt at him. Yatsuhashi swung his sword, but Arslan rolled beneath it, rolling sideways, skittering around the bigger man until she flanked him. She closed from the side instead of the front. He skidded on the ice trying to turn to face her, which was when Arslan lashed out with a sweeping kick that cut his trunk legs out from under him.

Yatsuhashi flailed as he fell. Arslan jumped up and punched him square in the chest just to drive him home. He landed on his back on the ice with an almighty crash that seemed to shake the whole arena. Arslan raised his fist to hit him again.

Yatsuhashi locked eyes with her.

And Arslan … what was she … huh, hadn’t she just been about to—?

Yatsuhashi reached for her with one meaty hand. Arslan avoided his grasp upon instinct, years of training and experience kicking in to make her feet move on their own as she danced out of his grasp.

Vytal Festival. First Round. Big Fight. Enemy.

Don’t exactly remember how I got there; I thought I was just about to…

Does his semblance take my memories away?

In spite of my aura?

Okay, that was … that was scary, that was what that was. Scary and unnatural. What kind of a monster had a semblance like that? Think what you could do with a semblance like that. You could make it so that Arslan wasn’t Arslan any more, stripped of all her memories, of all the things that made her who she was.

I’ve got to take this guy out before he does it again.

Yatsuhashi was getting to his feet now, but slowly; that was his problem: he was too slow, at least too slow for her.

Arslan didn’t give him the chance to get up. She threw herself at him, skidding on the ice a little bit, but she got there before he was on his feet, before had the chance to use his semblance on her again. She kicked him in the face, knocking him straight back onto his back where he started, and then she stood on his chest and kicked off the ice, using Yatsuhashi like a sled as he slid across the ice, Arslan squatting on top of him, using her foot kick this way or that, to send him dodging the icy stalactites and keep sliding towards the wall of ice that marked the limits of the battlefield.

She hit him for good measure a couple of times in case he got any ideas.

Arslan kicked off the ice again and again, pushing her human sled faster and faster as they approached the ice wall, leaping off him at the last moment, sliding herself across the ice but still able to watch Yatsuhashi hit the wall hard enough to smash clean through it and drop out of the arena and out of sight.

“A double elimination!” Doctor Oobleck proclaimed. “Yatsuhashi Daichi has been ejected from the arena, and his aura has dropped below the permitted level!”

“Unfortunately, it’s not all plain sailing for Team Auburn,” Professor Port added. “Nadir Shiko has just been eliminated by aura depletion. The two teams are neck and— oh, no, Reese Chloris has also been eliminated! Team Auburn is down two members while Team Coffee has only lost one!”

It won’t stay that way for too long, Arslan thought, as a glance at the board confirmed that — of course — the two teachers were correct. She was two people down; only Bolin remained beside her.

On the plus side, all of the remaining members of Team CFVY had lost some of their aura, if not always very much.

Arslan turned to face her next opponents.

Bolin was still battling it out against Fox Alistair, but Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina both seemed now to be focused upon Arslan. Certainly, they were both turning in her direction.

Coco’s purse had unfolded into a rotary machine gun of black and yellow; the six barrels began to turn a split second before she opened fire.

Arslan ran, staying one step ahead of the stream of fire that Coco was throwing in her direction in spite of the way her slippers kept slipping and skidding upon the ice. Coco strafed sideways, tracking Arslan, her rounds shredding the icicle stalagmites and the ice wall surrounding their half of the arena.

But she wasn’t hitting Arslan yet, and Velvet didn’t appear to be doing anything.

No sooner had Arslan thought that then another rotary machine gun appeared in her arms, identical to Coco’s, except that instead of being solid metal and plastic, this one was insubstantial, made of hardlight dust.

But when Velvet opened fire, she started shredding the scenery just like Coco, so obviously, the damage that it did was real enough.

Velvet was firing in front of Arslan and working her way towards her from the other side, to trap her between their fires and leave her with nowhere to run.

Except that she could still run forwards, and she did just that, rushing towards the edge of the ice field and back towards the centre of the battlefield. Coco kept trailing after Arslan with her fire, while Velvet ceased firing — until she started firing in front of Arslan to cut her off that way. So Arslan changed direction to run towards her instead. Velvet tried to track her, but Arslan could move herself faster than either Coco or Velvet could move their weapons, and she was able to keep herself always one step ahead, just one step ahead all the time, and while they demolished the landscape — good, Arslan preferred to fight on the flat ground — they didn’t ever manage to hit her.

Something that they both recognised, as Coco’s machine gun collapsed back into that thick, boxy purse, while Velvet’s weapon disappeared into nothing at all.

They both charged at her before Arslan was out of the ice which crunched beneath their feet as they rushed at her.

Velvet reached her first; she was closer and faster than Coco, throwing a flurry of fast punches that Arslan had to work to dodge. As she punched, two weapons formed out of light upon her arms: the gauntlets that the Xiao Long girl used.

Her weapon is something in that box that lets her copy other people’s weapons, huh? Arslan thought as she dodged both the punches and the fire spitting from the hardlight gauntlets.

No, no, it wasn’t just the weapons, Arslan realised as she dodged the punches and the shots equally, retreating in the face of Velvet’s advance. It wasn’t just Xiao Long’s weapons, it was her fighting style as well; she’d seen the blonde girl fight in combat class a few times, and Velvet was standing like her and throwing punches like her as well.

Arslan backflipped twice, putting a little distance between herself and Velvet. Velvet followed, throwing out her fists one after the other. Arslan let her come as she produced her dagger, Nemean Claw, out of her wrist, attached to a rope wrapped around her hand. Velvet attacked. Arslan backflipped again, throwing Nemean Claw as she did so. Knife and rope wrapped around Velvet’s leg, and Arslan pulled on the rope, yanking Velvet off balance, off her feet, and upwards to where Arslan kicked her square in the chest to send her flying.

Velvet was thrown backwards, but before Arslan could follow up, Coco charged in, purse drawn back, swinging it like a brick aimed at Arslan’s head.

Arslan took the blow on her left forearm — she could feel her aura draining from the strength of the blow, feel the force of it running through her arm, feel her arm tremble at Coco’s strength — while with her right arm, she hit Coco in the face, knocking her sunglasses off — although Arslan couldn’t see her eyes as she was thrown away.

Arslan followed up on her — yeah, she’d intended to deal with Velvet first, but that had assumed that her own team would last a little longer and she wouldn’t be tag-teamed. In the circumstances, getting rid of Coco while she could was a good option.

Plus, having worked out Velvet’s secret, she didn’t seem quite so dangerous.

Arslan bore down on Coco like a lion upon the buffalo. Coco was quicker on her feet than Yatsuhashi had been; she’d gotten up again by the time that Arslan reached her.

She let her weapon hang off her shoulder, facing Arslan with her bare fists, curled up and raised. She must have thought that her purse was too heavy and slow and she stood a better chance unarmed.

Arslan threw a punch, then another; Coco blocked them both with her forearms. Arslan kicked her in the gut, and that, Coco did not block as Arslan knocked her onto the fiery half of the battlefield, Team ABRN’s side.

Arslan was hit by something on the side of the head that knocked her to the ground. She rolled upright just in time to see a hardlight copy of Akoúo̱ soar back onto Velvet’s arm.

Velvet had had a hardlight Miló, in spear form, in her other hand, and now, she was standing like Pyrrha, even standing on her toes in the absence of high heels, looking as if she expected a dramatic wind to blow through her hair and make the sash she wasn’t wearing fly out beside her like a flag.

Oh no, you didn’t, Arslan thought, because that was just … that was just insulting. That was salt in the wound, that was. Utterly and completely … no respect at all. None at all. Just … seriously?

You think that just because P-money has beaten me every time that you can copy her weapons and you’re going to copy her fighting style and you’ll beat me too?

Let me tell you something, Missy, it’ll take a lot more than copied weapons and a copied fighting style to take me down!

Velvet might not be wearing Pyrrha’s sash, but she was definitely showing a red rag to the golden lion.

Arslan snorted out of her nostrils. Some things were just disrespectful, plain and simple, and this was rubbing salt in the wound.

She charged towards Velvet. Velvet charged towards her, arms pumping, long brown hair flying out behind her like a—

Stop it.

It was annoying how uncanny it was.

They came together like two lions clashing for control of the territory and all the lionesses who lived there, and as they made their final approach, Velvet whirled upon her toes, lashing out with her shield at head height, while whipping her spear around at ankle level so that Arslan could neither duck beneath one nor leap over the other but had no choice but to backflip clear and out of the way. Velvet thrust the fake Miló for Arslan’s chest; Arslan parried with Nemean Claw, knocking the spear away before throwing a punch that Velvet took upon the false Akoúo̱. Arslan kicked, but Velvet shuffled back out of the way before driving Arslan back with another thrust of the fake Miló.

Arslan ripped another fire dust crystal off her necklace, ignited it with aura, and threw the ensuing fireball at Velvet.

Velvet charged through the fireball as Pyrrha would have done, taking the blast upon her shield as she rushed forwards, the false Miló thrusting forwards.

Arslan fell back. Getting to grips with Pyrrha was always part of the problem; she had reach on Arslan with her weapons, and she was too fast for Arslan to get around her at all.

Let’s see if you can copy her speed as well as her fighting style.

Arslan sprang to the side, trying to get around Velvet’s flank and past her guard before she could respond, but Velvet was able to turn in time, presenting the fake Miló and Akoúo̱ towards her, shield and spear ever ready.

She wasn’t as fast as Pyrrha — at least, Arslan didn’t think so — but she was fast enough.

Fast enough for that, anyway.

But not quite as fast as Pyrrha, and she didn’t seem to be able to transform her false Miló at all; it was stuck as a spear.

“Bolin Hori has just been eliminated!” Doctor Oobleck declared. “Arslan Altan is now the only member of Team Auburn left standing! Can she pull off an astonishing upset?”

Just you watch, Doctor, Arslan thought, even as she could see Coco and Fox starting to circle around her like wolves. They meant to attack her all at once and bring her down.

Arslan took a moment, while they got themselves into position, and in that moment, she found that she could see a way forward.

She turned her back on Velvet and her Pyrrha cosplay and charged towards Coco.

Coco didn’t fire, probably worried about hitting either of her teammates; she waited. Arslan expected that she thought that if she could just hold Arslan off for a second, then her teammates would be along to back her up. Arslan could already hear them chasing after her.

But, you know, the problem with using Pyrrha’s weapons and Pyrrha’s fighting style is that I can take a pretty good guess what P-money would do in a situation like this.

Arslan dived for the ground, throwing out her hands and turning her dive into a roll along the ice as the false Akoúo̱ flew over her head and — without Pyrrha’s semblance to redirect it anywhere — hit Coco Adel square in the face, knocking her flat onto her back and taking her aura down into the red.

“Coco Adel has been eliminated by friendly fire!” Professor Port boomed. “What an unfortunate turn of events for Team Coffee!”

Velvet gasped. “Coco! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Her apologies were cut off as Arslan went for her. Velvet gripped the fake Miló in two hands, whirling it almost like a staff, passing it from hand to hand in front of her, using it to block all of Arslan’s furious punches. Arslan put her on the backfoot for a second, but then she came back at her, spear whirling, lashing out with it at Arslan’s feet and at her face. Velvet’s whole body whirled, hair flying around her.

And Arslan did something that she never would have dared to do with Pyrrha and reached out for Velvet’s long, flying hair and grabbed hold of it.

Pyrrha would have punished her for that; Arslan was halfway convinced that was why she grew it so long, as a challenge: go on, try it, grab my hair, see what happens.

But Velvet wasn’t Pyrrha; she was fast, but she wasn’t fast enough to respond before Arslan had yanked her off her feet off her feet by her hair, and then it was Arslan’s turn to whirl around and hurl Velvet like a hammer in the hammer throw straight for Fox Alistair.

He caught her, taking less damage to his aura than he would have done if he’d let her hit him, but unfortunately for him, that left his hands full as Arslan leapt through the air after her missile to fall upon them both.

With her left hand, she punched Velvet in the gut, knocking her back against Fox’s chest, while with her right, she hit Fox himself, making him half-double over and drop Velvet on the ground at Arslan’s feet. Arslan stepped over her, throwing more punches — one, two, three — at Fox’s face to drive him back.

Velvet leapt upright behind her. Arslan turned as fast as a whipcrack and kicked her hard in the face, taking her aura down into the red.

“Velvet Scarlatina has been eliminated!” Doctor Oobleck proclaimed. “What a reversal of fortune in just a few moments!”

Fox rushed her. Arslan didn’t know what he was hoping to achieve with those awkward blades, but it was like he was throwing his punches short so that the blades would get her instead.

But Bolin had already done most of the work on his aura, and so Arslan fell back, pulling two more fire dust crystals from her necklace, igniting them, and throwing them at him, one after the other.

He held up his arms to protect his face, but she took his aura into the red regardless.

“Fox Alistair, the last member of Team Coffee, has been eliminated!” Professor Port said as the cheers from the Haven section of the crowd rose up like an immense tidal wave sweeping towards the shore. “Team Auburn wins the match!”

“Yeah! That’s right!” Arslan yelled, raising both hands in triumph. “Yeah! And stay tuned, because I promise, there is so much more to come!”

Swift Foot beamed from ear to ear as she leaned forwards in her seat.

“Our gladiators are the pride of Mistral,” she said. “Can it be doubted?”

“No,” Terri-Belle replied, in a voice that was almost a grunt. “It’s just a pity,” she added, as she got to her feet, “that the same cannot be said of our huntsmen and huntresses.”

Author's Note

In English cricket, up until the 1960s, there was a division between the so-called 'Gentlemen' and 'Players'; 'Gentlemen' were upper-middle class amateurs, who competed as members of professional cricket clubs but were not paid for it; 'Players' were paid for their time and effort, and were generally from more working class backgrounds. The Gentlemen vs Players match was the highlight of the English cricketing calendar until the division between the two was abolished.

So if you're wondering 'how is Arslan able to have won tournaments without ever having beaten Pyrrha?' it's because Pyrrha, in this conception, is a 'Gentleman', someone of independent means who competes for the prestige but has no pressing financial need to compete in every single tournament in every single year. Arslan, by contrast, is a 'Player', who makes her living on the tournament circuit and so she will troop round every tournament and every fancy wedding and birthday party because that's her job. And sometimes Pyrrha won't be there.

We're Only Bringing It More (New)

We’re Only Bringing It More

“Arslan!”

Arslan turned in the corridor — this one more brightly lit than the one immediately leading out of or into the battlefield itself — to see Pyrrha walking towards her, her sash trailing a little behind her as she advanced.

“P-money,” Arslan said, turning away from her teammates for a moment — with a slight gesture of her hand to indicate that she’d be back — to walk towards her.

The two met halfway down the pristine, metallic corridor, where the lights from above glinted on Pyrrha’s abundance of metal.

“Congratulations,” Pyrrha said, a bright smile upon her face. “You did well. You did very well. Today, I think that you are the pride of Mistral.”

If Arslan had had a paler complexion, she probably would have blushed; as it was, she let out a sort of embarrassed chuckle and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “Don’t say that yet; the day’s not over. Most importantly we haven’t had your match yet.”

“I doubt that I will be eliminating all four members of the opposing team by myself,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Probably not, but…” Arslan stopped short of saying that that was because Pyrrha had better teammates than she did, “that’s no reflection on you.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “But it does mean that in raw achievement, you are unlikely to be matched.” She paused. “You did very well. In particular … you did very well against … well, me, for want of a better word.” Her smile became a little mischievous. “Should I wonder if you’ve been holding back against me all these years?”

Arslan’s eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know you were joking, I’d be very upset with you right now,” she said. “I have never held back against you in my life.” She scowled for a moment. “She wasn’t you. She moved like you, she had copies of your weapons, but she wasn’t you. She didn’t have your speed, for a start, and she didn’t have … there’s only one of each of us, P-money, in all of Remnant and beyond; we’re unique and irreplaceable, and no semblance can change that.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha murmured, sounding a little bit as though she didn’t believe Arslan, for whatever reason. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Arslan replied. “I just did.”

“Nevertheless, I…” Pyrrha trailed before saying what she meant, or what she wanted to say. Instead, she said, “I suppose your parents will be very pleased.”

“My parents don’t watch my matches,” Arslan said.

“Really?” Pyrrha asked.

Arslan nodded. “My mom says they’re too tense. Which is the same reason she doesn’t watch pretty much any dramas on TV these days, so I know it’s nothing personal.”

“And your father?”

“He doesn’t want to make Mom watch, and he doesn’t want to watch it without her,” Arslan said.

“I … see,” Pyrrha murmured. “How does that—?”

“It’s fine,” Arslan said. “I know that they support me, or that they would support me if they could bring themselves to actually watch, and they’re always pleased to find out that I won after the fact — or to console me if I didn’t. I don’t need them to be glued to the TV whenever I’m on it to know that they love me; they showed me that by taking care of me all my life.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. Are you planning to stay and watch the matches or head down to enjoy the fairgrounds?”

“I’m not really interested in Weiss Schnee,” Arslan said. “I’m going to head down. You?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “I thought about giving it a miss, but then … Weiss challenged me, she wishes to meet in the one on one rounds, and while that may or may not happen, I feel it would be bad form not to watch her fight.”

“Yes, that would be a bit of an insult, to act as though you don’t even need to see how she fights.”

“I’ve seen how she fights,” Pyrrha pointed out. “But yes, the circumstances … honour demands it. And I have little doubt that she will put on a good show.”

Rainbow sat down with a large tub of popcorn in her hands. Pinkie, Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy weren’t joining them for this match; it was just her and Blake at the moment, with Team SAPR to join them later on — even Jaune, probably because the other three members of his team were all going to be here, which had surprised Rainbow a little bit — and so they didn’t have to go scrambling round for seats with the rest of the crowds; they could take their seats in the places at the front reserved exclusively for contenders. The seats were a little bigger and more comfortable than those behind them, which seemed a little bit of a waste, considering that they weren’t going to be used that often, but at the same time, she wasn’t going to complain too hard because they were very comfortable.

Rainbow held her popcorn tub out towards Blake. “Feel free to take any of this, by the way; I got it for both of us.”

“Thanks,” Blake murmured without looking at Rainbow Dash — but she reached out and plucked a handful of popcorn from out of the tub.

Rainbow grinned and took a couple of pieces of popcorn herself, holding them between her fingers. “I hope this is more like the stuff you get in the movie theatres than the stuff you get in the store,” she said.

“It doesn’t taste great either way,” Blake said, as she put some into her mouth. “But it is … moreish, and strangely satisfying in a sense.”

“Yeah, but the movie theatre quality stuff does taste — or feel, maybe — a lot better,” Rainbow said. She popped the corns she was holding into her mouth, chewing the soft, very chewy, popcorn in her mouth. “Which this is. Score!” She paused a moment. “Did you ask Sun to join you for this?”

“No,” Blake said. “No, I didn’t think that would be right. It sounded as though he was really upset by—”

“Weiss had nothing to do with that,” Rainbow said. “He gets that, right?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “At least, I think.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “You think?”

“We haven’t talked about Weiss,” Blake pointed out.

“Fair enough, but…” Rainbow paused a moment. “He’s not going to do anything stupid, is he?”

Blake glanced at her. “Sun isn’t going to lash out at Weiss, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“You’re the one who told me that he was upset.”

“He was upset, but you know Sun; he’s not malicious, he doesn’t hold grudges,” Blake said. “What he found out, this view of a world that was different than he’d imagined … it inspired him to do the right thing; it didn’t fill him with a need for vengeance. I think … I think that’s the difference between Sun and Adam. In the end, what Adam wanted most was revenge for the wrongs that had already been committed; Sun wants to try and stop more wrongs from being done, as far as it’s in his power to do.”

Rainbow kept her lips closed, but some trace of a kind of giggling sound slipped out anyway.

Blake turned her head towards her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rainbow said.

Blake regarded her flatly. “What?”

“Nothing!” Rainbow insisted. “I just think it’s really cute, you know, the way that you’re all hyping up your boyfriend. It’s … cute. A little unexpected, but cute.”

“'Unexpected'?”

“Well…” Rainbow squirmed a little in her seat. “You know. You weren’t exactly—”

“Yeah,” Blake murmured. “I know. But now … I’m doing better by him. That … that’s all there is to it, really. Now that he’s closing the distance between us, I can … see him better.”

“Awww.”

“You sound like my mother,” Blake muttered.

Rainbow snorted. “I can appreciate romance as much as the next girl.”

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said as she led Team SAPR to join them.

“Okay, maybe not the next girl, but the one behind her for sure,” Rainbow said. “Hey, everyone. I wasn’t sure that you were going to join us.”

“We weren’t sure that we were going to join you,” Jaune replied as the four members of the team sat down next to Rainbow.

“Yeah?” Rainbow asked. “Then why did you?”

“A conversation with Weiss on the rooftop,” Pyrrha said. “A reminder of how seriously she’s taking all of this. It would have felt wrong not to watch.”

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” Rainbow said. “After all the ways that she helped us in Low Town and in Atlas, it would have been just ungrateful to have let her fight the fight all by herself.”

“How do you think they’ll do?” asked Jaune.

“They’ll win,” Sunset said.

“Weiss certainly seemed confident enough,” Pyrrha added. “Or at least, she felt that she had sufficient grounds to present confidence.”

“She’s got good luck, going up against a Vacuo team,” Rainbow declared. “All— most Vacuans are kind of … full of crap. Ooh, ooh, hard places breed hard people, we’re so tough, ooh, give me a break. They’re full of hot air.”

“It can be true,” Blake said. “I learned how to fight on the road, moving around outside the kingdoms.”

“You learned how to fight because you were brought up by terrorists,” Rainbow said. “You could have been raised in a White Fang base in the middle of Vale and you’d still know how to fight; you didn’t need to grow up sucking on sand to do it. All of that stuff the Vacuans come out with is just sour grapes; they’re not as rich as us, they’re not as advanced as us, so they try and cover up their jealousy by acting like their disadvantages make them better than us. Which it doesn’t. Leave aside our numbers, all our tech, everything else, man for man, we’re still better than they are, because we’re better trained without all of this warrior nonsense filling our heads.” She glanced at Pyrrha. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Pyrrha murmured.

“They do have some reason to be upset,” Blake said softly. “Atlas exploited Vacuo’s natural resources at great cost to the environment and continues to do so today on a smaller scale, which is only a smaller scale because so much was extracted out of Vacuo before the Great War.”

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. “That … is true,” she admitted. “We haven’t always been the nice guys, or the good guys. But Atlas today isn’t Mantle then, you know that, and we could help them if they weren’t so proud. Atlesian technology might be able to help … mitigate some of the damage that Mantle caused way back when.”

“Maybe it could,” Blake said. “But … when people blame you for something … it can be hard to persuade them to let you fix the problem that you caused. I think that’s something we’ll probably both run up against in years to come, in all kinds of ways.”

Rainbow sighed. “You’re a real ray of sunshine sometimes, Blake,” she said. “Anyway, on the question of who is going to win, my point stands: Team Wisteria is going to clean up, and you’ll see it with your own eyes soon enough.”

"Are you sure that you two don't want to catch a skybus up to the arena and watch the next match?" Skystar asked. "Because we could. I mean, we might miss the beginning, but we could get there."

"No," Silverstream said firmly. "No, why would we want to do that? To watch Cardin's match? Ugh."

"Why are we here in the first place?" Terramar asked.

"Because Skystar is the Amity Princess, so she has to be here, and we're here so that she doesn't have to be here by herself," Silverstream reminded him. To Skystar, she added, "But just because you have to be here doesn't mean that you have to watch every single match, especially not that guy."

"It's also Weiss' match," Skystar pointed out.

"Yeah, well," Silverstream murmured.

She hadn't … she didn't blame Weiss, exactly … she didn't blame Weiss at all for what had gone on — it seemed like even her father hadn't known, so why should she have known? — but at the same time … it left a sour taste in her mouth. It made it hard to enjoy Weiss' music, or even to appreciate her skill as a huntress, knowing that everything that Silverstream had thought was cool about her: the fashion, the musical talent, the prodigious skill at everything she turned her hand to, had all been paid for by the suffering — the real suffering, not just ordinary hard work but, like, slavery and stuff — of faunus like her and Terramar. Even though she hadn't known about it, it was still hard to look at her the same way.

She hadn't thrown away all of her merch or anything, because it wasn't as though it was all tainted, and maybe she wouldn't feel as strongly about the whole thing later on, but for now … they'd had pictures. They'd had pictures of the people at the camps that the Atlesians had liberated, and some of the people were so thin and sick looking, like they were about to drop dead at any moment, and the markings on their faces, the letters burned into their skin…

It was hard to forget that. There were times, at night, when she'd just finished brushing her teeth, and she went to turn off the bathroom light, and as the light went off, it was as though, in that split second, she could see reflected in the mirror her own face with the letters 'SDC' burned onto it.

It made it hard to cheer for Weiss Schnee, regardless of how little she had known about the whole thing or how little she could have done to stop it.

When you put that together with the fact that Cardin was on Weiss' team, and, well, it wasn't a hard decision to make.

"I'm not feeling Weiss or her match at the moment, especially not when she's fighting alongside that guy," she said. She smiled a little. "Unless you want to cheer for him to get his ass kicked."

Skystar looked as though she might laugh, but didn't. "No," she said. "No, I … I don't hate him like that, but … that doesn't mean that I want to watch him win either, let's do … something else, what do you guys want to do?"

"I'd like to give that shooting gallery a try," said Terramar.

"Okay then," Skystar declared. "Away we go!"

"Settle down kids, settle down," Lieutenant Martinez instructed, snapping her fingers as she sat up on the sofa. "This is the one fight that I really want to see."

"Doesn't seem like they've got the crowd on their side," Mike said as the kids quietened down and got out of the way, leaving their parents a better view — at least for the duration of this fight.

"They don't need the crowd on their side," Martinez said. She had never had the crowd on her side in all her years as a police officer, or at least, she'd never felt as though the public was really on her side. It hadn't stopped her yet. "They just need to be better than the other guys."

"And are they?" Mike asked. "Better than the other guys?"

"They'd better be," Martinez muttered. "Or I'll have some words for them once they're done."

"Prim! It's about to start!"

"I'll be through in a second," Primrose Seacole called back from out of the kitchen as she continued to squash up the banana slices with the back of a spoon until it was scarcely recognisable as banana at all, more a sort of yellow-ish mush of indeterminate origin, a little bit like baby food, only with less chemicals.

No, the chemicals were all in the Mistralian yoghurt that she poured on top of the mashed banana, half covering the yellow mush beneath a thick layer of white liquid. She stuck the spoon into the bowl of yoghurt and banana and carried it through into the living room.

Their new house in Canterlot was certainly a big improvement on the place where they'd lived in Low Town; in fact, Canterlot was a big improvement on Low Town in every way, except the people. Primrose missed cranky old Grampa Gruff running the store, for one, and Gallus trying to escape; but Canterlot seemed full of very nice people so far, and Prim didn't even know them that well yet.

And in every other way, Canterlot was a huge improvement: the weather was better, the air felt fresher, and their new home wasn't nearly as draughty as the old one had been.

The kitchen was larger, with every modern convenience, and the living room was bigger too, although they didn't really need the extra space. Certainly, they wouldn't once she and Lavender went off to school.

It worried Prim a little what would become of Grandma once that happened; there had already been some arrangements made: a man named Brian came round three times a day to help Grandma get up in the morning, make her dinner in the late afternoon, and wash her and put her to do bed in the evening, and all of that would be vital once her grandchildren weren't around, but … three visits a day wasn't a lot; there was a lot of time in between to be lonely.

Word on the street was that the SDC would soon be bringing out robots capable of cooking and cleaning and caring for people — but even if that was true, it couldn't keep you company the way a real person could.

That was for the future, however; for today, for right now, Grandma was sat enthroned in a huge armchair — a powered one with a little dust engine under the cushions to help her get up out of it — her rheumy eyes glued to the television. A little round robot was quietly vacuuming the carpet, dancing effortlessly around the legs of Grandma, Lavender, and even Prim as she walked in.

"Hey, Grandma," Prim said, kneeling down next to her as she placed the bowl of banana and yoghurt between her grandmother's hands. "I made you something." Unfortunately, Grandma's teeth weren't up to chewing very much, and certainly nothing with too much substance to it.

"Thank you, child," Grandma said.

Prim glanced at the television; it didn't look like there was anything happening, she couldn't see anything, but she didn't know what to expect. "Has it started?"

"No, no," Grandma said. "Miss Weiss hasn't led her team out onto the field yet. You've still got time."

Prim nodded. "Are you going to be okay eating that?"

"I'm gonna be fine," Grandma said, slightly irritably. "Just enjoy the fight."

Prim shook her head. "I wonder if she realises that you're cheering for her."

Or if she appreciates it if she does know.

I am the granddaughter of a hero.

I was not born guilty of my father’s crimes.

Weiss opened her eyes and put one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. “Is everyone ready?” she asked.

Cardin was visibly impatient, shifting from one foot to the other, rolling his shoulders. “I’m ready,” he said.

Russel was scratching his knuckles. “Ready.”

Flash was frozen, still, stiff, utterly without movement; beneath his gilded helmet, his face was pale. “I’m ready,” he whispered.

Weiss nodded. She paused, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling. She didn’t know exactly how the crowd would react to them, but she doubted they would cheer too loudly.

It fell to her, then, to supply the encouragement that the crowd would not.

“I want you all to remember something,” Weiss said. “We’re here for us. Not for them, for us. Ignore the crowd, ignore everyone outside of this arena, ignore anyone who might be watching, ignore whatever they say. We’re here for us, and we’re the only ones who matter, us and our opponents.

“I’m not going to tell you that this battle will be easy. Our opponents are—”

“Windbags,” Cardin said.

“Are huntresses,” Weiss corrected him. “They are students of one of Remnant’s most prestigious academies, just like us. They have trained, just as we have. They are motivated, just as we are. They will fight skillfully to achieve victory.

“But we have skill of our own. We are more coordinated than they realise, more skilled than they realise, more motivated than they realise. And we have a plan.”

“We do?” asked Russel.

“When the fighting begins, I will provide support to the rest of you with my glyphs,” Weiss declared. “None of you have to worry about covering me — I can take care of myself — but in the initial stage, you will advance, and I will provide all necessary support to you. Once I see who is exposed to multiple opponents, I will come to your assistance as soon as the situation on the battlefield allows — rest assured, I won’t leave any of you hanging. I may not be leading you from the front, but you can all count on me.

“However we started out, we’ve shown that we can work together as a team. So long as we continue to do so, then we will win, I’m sure of it.”

Cardin nodded. “Sure we will.”

“We’re with you, Weiss,” Flash added.

Weiss smiled slightly at him. “I know.” She breathed in deeply, and then sighed. “Shall we go, then?”

“Better had, or they’ll start to wonder where we are,” Russel said, a grin flitting across his face.

Weiss nodded. “Remember: it doesn’t matter what they think of us. Heads held high.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think, but show them that we don’t care?” Russel asked.

“Of course,” Weiss replied. “I don’t see the contradiction.”

Russel hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Sure, why not. Lead the way, boss.”

Weiss turned upon her toes and kept her hand upon the hilt of Myrtenaster as she led her team out of the tunnel and into the arena.

“Team Wisteria of Beacon!” Professor Port cried as they emerged out of the shadow and into the light, but as much as he tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, the professor was half-drowned out by the booing — most prominently from the Shade part of the audience, but not completely absent anywhere — that fell like rain down upon them.

Weiss ignored it. Weiss tried to ignore it. She wished that she could stop up her ears with cotton wool so that she could not hear them booing her, jeering at her, hurling down their curses and their aspersions at her.

I have done nothing wrong. You cannot bring me down.

I will not allow myself to be brought down by the likes of you.

Team WWSR reached the centre of the arena and lined up there, facing—

“Team Indigo of Shade!”

The names of the members of Team NDGO appeared on the board, with a portrait to go along with every name for reference.

Nebula Violette was taller than Weiss — not, unfortunately, that that was particularly difficult — but more or less of a height with all four of her teammates; her skin was lightly tanned, her eyes were olive, and her hair was indigo and brushed across her head onto the left side of her face in a rough wave descending downwards. She wore a modest metal breastplate, so small that it only covered her breasts, over a grey shirt with a high collar, and over her shirt, she wore a lilac jacket with the left sleeve rolled up to reveal the black leather vambrace she was wearing around her wrist. Upon her right shoulder, she wore a grey metal pauldron, her pants and boots alike were dark grey, and similarly, dark grey fingerless gloves enclosed both hands. She was holding it behind her back, making it just a little difficult to see, but it seemed that in her hands she held a crossbow of a dark grey, almost black metal.

Dew Gayl was the tallest member of her team, although there was not much in it, and like her leader, she had a light tan typical of the Vacuans; her eyes were a striking violet, and her hair was a light, sandy brown, worn long past her shoulder but swept entirely to the left side where it fell in rolling waves like sand dunes stretching far away. She was armoured in a bodysuit of golden scales that covered her neck and her entire left arm, but left her right arm bare, protected only by a bronze pauldron on her shoulder, fastened across her body by golden chains. Over her scales, she wore a forest green dress with shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline, with a sash of lighter green tied around her waist. On her right arm, she wore a golden armband above the elbow, and various bracelets and bangles of gold stacked up on her right wrist, while on her left hand and wrist, she wore what was still called a ‘slave band’ a ring linked by chains to a bracelet around her arm. On her legs, she wore more scales, as armoured stockings this time, with brazen greaves upon her legs. In her hands, she gripped an ornate golden spear with a long shaft and a broad head and a green wind dust crystal set just below the head.

Gwen Darcy was the shortest member of Team NDGO, with that Vacuan tan about her skin and black hair which she wore in curls falling down behind her head to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were brown, but did not seem entirely so because of the purple eyeshadow that she was wearing. She wore a light grey top with a collar of deeper grey and sleeves of black lace that covered just below her elbows; over the top, she wore a black corset dress, the corset hugging her figure tightly up to the bust, while the knee-length skirt spread out in an A-line in all directions, with petticoats of a rich, deep purple just above visible beneath it. She wore a sash of purple around her waist, tied into a bow at the back of the waist, and from her sash, she hung, on either side, a pair of armoured tassets. Of weapons, Weiss could see no sign.

Octavia Ember was the fairest member of the opposing team, with olive eyes and brick red hair left long and loose, hanging down beyond and over her shoulders, with only a slight fringe swept to the right across her forehead. She wore a brown top with a tailed teal waistcoat over it and a short, sleeveless teal jacket over that. Her underskirt was creamy white and somewhat short — it didn’t reach her knees — the overskirt was brown and left a slit down the front to better view the underskirt. A pair of banded spaulders protected both her shoulders. Around her neck was clasped a sky-blue choker. She held a long knife in one hand, a slender bladed, crooked dagger with red markings like flames winding their way up the blade, growing narrower the closer it came to the point.

The two teams faced one another.

A smirk crossed Nebula’s face. “Weiss Schnee, huh? We are honoured, aren’t we, girls?”

Russel rolled his eyes. “Any chance we can skip the trash talk, loves? It’s all been done before, hasn’t it?”

“Do you want to be spared the cliches?” asked Dew. “Or spared your feelings?”

“I bet that you imagined this moment, didn’t you, Miss Schnee?” Nebula asked.

“My name is Weiss,” Weiss muttered stiffly.

“Yeah, but that’s not what your Atlas bootlickers call you, is it?” Nebula responded. “I’ve heard them: yes, Miss Schnee; no, Miss Schnee; can I sharpen your sword for you, Miss Schnee.” She spat on the ground next to her. “You’ve got them all wrapped around your little finger. Or you used to. Like I said, I bet you had this whole thing imagined in your mind, but you could never imagine that you could walk in here and the crowd would be on our side.”

“I bet you could hardly imagine the crowd would be on your side either,” Russel muttered.

“It took long enough,” Nebula went on, “but finally, the world sees your family for what it is.”

“My family?” Weiss squawked. “My family raised Remnant out of the mud and mire to build civilisation—”

“Your family stood on the backs of our people,” Nebula said, “and never cared whose backs broke beneath your weight.”

“Weiss isn’t her father or her family,” Flash said.

“No, but she has their name,” Nebula said. “And what was that dress, that weapon, that tiara paid for but with blood money?”

Weiss’ grip on Myrtenaster tightened somewhat. “I am more than a name,” she said, “as you will soon discover.”

“We’re in trouble now, girls,” Octavia said.

The images representing the different environments appeared, a beeping sound alerting the two teams as the options began to cycle, rotating in and out of view faster and faster until two biomes were selected and began to rise out of the depths of the arena.

Behind Team NDGO arose a savanna of tall grass, taller than most people, and a single crooked tree rising out of the grass; behind Team WWSR, there rose a rocky field, dotted with pools of water and intermittently erupting geysers leaping loudly into the air.

“Three!” cried Doctor Oobleck.

Russel twirled his dust daggers in his hands.

“Two!” cried Professor Port.

Cardin hefted his mace, Executioner, in both hands, bringing it up and then down again upon his open palm as though he were testing the weight for the first time.

“One!” yelled Doctor Oobleck.

Flash settled into a fighting stance, shield held before him, Caliburn in spear mode at the ready.

“Begin!”

Now, Gwen revealed her weapons. Like a magician pulling something out of her sleeve, she produced six throwing knives from out of her spaulders, throwing them towards the members of Team WWSR.

Weiss took a step forward, flourishing Myrtenaster as she drew it from her waist and pointed it towards Gwen, and as she pointed it, she conjured up four black glyphs before her and her three teammates. Gwen's knives struck the glyphs and rebounded backwards off them — although not hard enough to fly back towards the members of Team NDGO who had, in any case, already begun to retreat.

As Gwen's knives clattered to the ground, the Shade students melted away into the long grass of the savannah.

Russel took a step forward after them.

"Hold!" Weiss commanded.

Russel came to a stop, looking at her.

"They want us to follow them," Weiss went on. She was fairly certain that she had divined NDGO's plan: lure Team WWSR into the long grass where they would be unable to see one another, still less support one another, and they could be defeated in detail by the superior — in their own minds, at least — Vacuan warriors.

Obviously, Weiss was disinclined to simply give them what they wanted.

"Okay," Cardin said. "But what do we do?"

Weiss hesitated for a moment, thinking. They needed to flush NDGO out.

And she thought she knew how.

"Stay where you are for now," she said, "but get ready."

Weiss flowed fluidly into a high guard, Myrtenaster raised up to eye level and drawn back for a strike, and as she raised the blade, Weiss cycled through the cartridges of dust she had loaded until she had yellow lightning Dust chambered.

She raised her hand, pointing out towards the long grass, and behind her, she conjured up a row of six blue-white glyphs, turning slowly in the air.

Weiss' ice blue eyes narrowed. "On second thought, you might want to give me a little more room," she said as she opened fire, brilliant white bolts of energy leaping from the centre of her glyphs to land amongst the long grass in a barrage of fire to smoke outtheir adversaries.

That, at least, was Weiss' plan and hope, that her assault would so discomfort Team NDGO, would make their position so untenable, that they would be compelled to emerge and offer battle in the open.

Her bolts of energy flowed into the grass, and Weiss could see them striking the ground, see dust and grass alike leaping up into the air, and if the cry of alarm hadn't told Weiss that she'd hit someone, the drop in Gwen's aura would have.

But it was not a great drop, nothing like enough to put her out of the match and not, it seemed, enough to draw Team NDGO out of their concealment.

Weiss kept firing. The drain upon her aura from each glyph was very minor indeed; she was consuming more dust than aura at present.

But when the lightning dust ran out, well…

A crossbow quarrel erupted out of the long grass, flying straight towards her; Flash pushed her aside, knocking Weiss to the ground — accidentally, she was sure — and took the quarrel upon his shield, Rho Aias. The missile skittered off the shield and skidded along the ground to Cardin's feet; he kicked it away contemptuously.

Flash looked down at Weiss on the floor. "Sorry," he said, "I—"

"It's the thought that counts," Weiss told him as she scrambled back onto her feet.

"Speaking of thought," Cardin said, as he and Russel made their way over to join the other two, "I don't think they want to come out and play."

"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "So it would seem." She paused, and as she paused she cycled Myrtenaster's dust cylinders until she landed on red fire dust. "Loath as I am to straight up copy another student, we are being left with little choice."

She took three steps forward ahead of her teammates, towards the long grass, before she thrust her slender blade forwards, point angled slightly towards the ground.

Fire spat from the rapier's tip, and a line of fire raced along the surface of the central hexagon towards the long grass, which looked dry and yellow.

It began to burn at once, flames and smoke alike rising as they spread outwards.

Now they would see how long NDGO could remain there.

Weiss saw the grass move, saw the tips of the long yellow stalks, barely visible, rustle and sway, before the great gust of wind burst out of the grass to slam into Weiss. Weiss conjured a black glyph in front of her like a windbreak in the split second before she was blasted back into the geyser field, but she could still hear the wind howling around her, feel it gusting through her ponytail as its claws curled around the edges of her glyph — and she could feel the heat of the flames all around her as her own fire was blown back at her with much increased intensity, her simple line of flames roused to an inferno. Weiss conjured up more black glyphs to ward and shield her, but she still felt the heat, and felt the sweat mounting upon her brow.

Weiss closed her eyes, cycling from fire dust to green wind dust of her own, dropping her glyphs in the same moment she swept her sword in a wide arc before her, meeting wind with wind as she sought to turn the fire back upon Team NDGO.

The winds of the east and west strive against one another, with the fire trapped between them, both blowing on the flames, seeking to turn them this way or that.

Instead … they blew the fires out like birthday candles, leaving nothing but scorch marks on the ground and a few smouldering patches and grass that was either burnt out or blown down by the wind.

Either way, its value as concealment was somewhat reduced. Weiss could see Dew Gayl standing before her, her golden spear gripped tightly in her hands.

Before Weiss could react, the other members of Team NDGO charged out of cover, Gwen leading the way, throwing her knives before her.

Weiss conjured more black glyphs to protect herself and her teammates from the blades — how many knives did she have? It was so unfair that disposal weapons were an exception to the limitations — as Nebula and Octavia followed her.

Weiss had planned to hang back and support her teammates with her semblance; instead, she found herself in the front line, with the enemy team descending upon her.

Russel was the first to come to her aid, spinning through the air in a whirl — his semblance was not particularly versatile, but it could come in handy in the right circumstances — to slam into Gwen Darcy and knock her sideways. The Shade student rolled to her feet, daggers glinting in her hands, and then the two of them were locked in combat, daggers clashing with the ring of steel.

Flash planted himself in front of Weiss, Rho Aias held before him, Caliburn drawn back. Nebula — whose crossbow had converted, somewhat crudely in Weiss' view, into an arming sword by virtue of the arms drawing back and a blade emerging — and Octavia hesitated, standing off warily.

Neither made any move to intercept Cardin as he rushed at Dew, swinging his mace at her two-handed.

Dew took the blow upon the head of her spear and parried it, sweeping Executioner down towards the ground even as she struck Cardin on the face with the butt. Cardin growled as his head snapped back and sideways but retaliated with a backhand blow with his left hand that sent Dew reeling. She recoiled, parrying another stroke from Executioner before sweeping Cardin's legs out from underneath him.

"Flash, go help Cardin," Weiss ordered.

"But—"

"I'll be fine," Weiss informed him. "I've got this."

She had expected to enrage Nebula and Octavia, and she wasn't disappointed by the furious scowl on Octavia's face.

"Cocky, aren't you?"

Weiss smiled. "Prove me wrong, if you can."

Flash broke off, running to support Cardin, who was trying to avoid Dew's spear long enough to get up. Neither Nebula or Octavia made any move to stay him; their attention was fixed on Weiss.

Weiss tucked her off hand behind her back and assumed a classical duelling stance, side on, Myrtenaster at the ready in a low guard.

"Dance with me, then," she said softly. "I await your pleasure."

Nebula and Octavia shared a glance; then they attacked, like trained hounds leaping on the noble stag together. Weiss stepped forward to meet them, her sword a silver streak as she lunged at Nebula. Nebula parried, trying to beat Weiss' sword away. Octavia thrust at her, but Weiss pirouetted gracefully to parry her stroke away in turn. Nebula hacked downwards at her with a two-handed stroke, but Weiss danced nimbly backwards and let the sword descend before her before she countered, Myrtenaster leaping forth to strike a touch.

Octavia slashed at the air, a ribbon of flame flying from her crooked knife, but Weiss raised her free hand to conjure up a glyph that kept the flames at bay. She kept the glyph there, a shield between her and Octavia as she focussed upon Nebula.

A glyph of shimmering, shining, brilliant white appeared beneath Weiss's feet, then another behind her, and two mote in front of her, towards Nebula. Weiss glided on these glyphs, back and forth, sliding forward to thrust at Nebula, then retreating before she could counterattack. Her strokes did not always land — Nebula was able to parry her as often as not, their blades clashing a swift succession of strokes and counterstrokes — but Nebula was not once able to hit her either, and Weiss could see the frustration mounting on her opponent's face.

Octavia worked her way around to join Nebula directly facing Weiss, and Weiss released all her glyphs.

Once more, Octavia unleashed a ribbon of fire in Weiss' direction, and once more, Weiss blocked it with a black glyph. The two attacked together, nearly shoulder to shoulder, barely an inch between them. That was advantageous for Weiss in some respects — she did not have to move much to parry the both of them — but less so in others, since they could not easily be separated, and Weiss found herself on the backfoot, driven backwards towards the geyser field, where the columns of hot water hissed aggressively as they rose upwards.

As she parried first Octavia, then Nebula, Weiss risked a glance up at the board: the honours were just about even between Russel and Gwen — she couldn't guess which of them would run out of aura first — but Flash and Cardin were wearing Dew down.

If she could win without losing any of her team, that would be quite an accomplishment, would it not? "Cardin!" Weiss shouted, her voice ringing out across the battlefield, "break off and assist Russel." She paused, becoming aware that a look at the aura levels might not give an accurate reflection of the reality that she dare not take her eyes off her own opponent's long enough to gauge. "If practical," she added.

For herself, Weiss was nearly at the edge of the geyser field; she could hear the spouting of the geysers themselves growing ever louder behind her.

At present, she did not see how she could escape being forced into them — except by venturing there willingly.

Weiss took a step back, conjuring a pair of black glyphs to hold back Octavia and Nebula for a second as Weiss turned her back upon them both and ran into the midst of the geysers.

She conjured up white glyphs beneath her feet, using them to plot a path between the geysers, choosing the narrowest passage between the boiling columns and then leaping from glyph to glyph as though they were stepping stones, stepping stones that disappeared as soon as she had left them behind.

She turned, balanced upon a glyph, to see that Nebula and Octavia pursued her, but the path that Weiss had taken was too narrow for them both abreast; they had either to split up and let the geysers come between them or else go one behind the other.

They chose to split up, just as Weiss had hoped they would.

The shining white glyph disappeared from beneath Weiss' feet, and in its place, as Weiss swept Myrtenaster up before her face in a salute-like gesture, appeared a glyph as grey as quicksilver, a glyph on whose smoky form could just about be made out the gears of a clock.

A time dilation glyph.

The world around Weiss slowed, as if everyone but her were trapped in treacle. As the battle moved so slowly around her she could see Cardin about to reach Russel and Gwen, Executioner already drawn back. She could see Flash knocking Dew's spear away with his shield.

And she could see Nebula, alone and vulnerable. Weiss conjured white glyphs, a dozen, a hundred white glyphs all around Nebula, surrounding her all around and above in a dome of brilliant white, while she, it seemed, could only start reacting.

Weiss leapt to the attack, speeding along her glyphs to skewer and knock her — slowly, it seemed — flying. Weiss darted from glyph to glyph, Myrtenaster outstretched to thrust at Nebula from all sides. She came at from the left and right, she hammered her from above, Weiss was as swift as light itself, a streak of light that raced between her glyphs like dawn's light racing across the world, and as she raced, she struck at Nebula again and again and again, she sent her flying up into the air, and still, she struck at her until she could dimly hear, distorted by the slowness of time, a buzzer sound and Professor Port announce Nebula's elimination in words so drawn out that Weiss could barely comprehend them.

The time dilation effect ended, and it was the turn of Weiss to be trapped in treacle. Her limbs were heavy, so heavy that she could barely move them, while everything around her seemed to be moving so fast in comparison, from Nebula falling to the ground to the ribbon of fire that was speeding towards her.

Weiss yelped in pain as the flames struck her, burning away her aura, hurling her sideways and onto the rocks.

Octavia was on her before she could do anything; even as time normalised for her, she was not quick enough to stop the other girl from hitting her across the face with the hilt of her dagger.

The Shade student's face was a mask of fury, teeth bared like a dog as she punched Weiss on the nose, making Weiss' head snap back as she winced. Octavia grabbed Weiss' wrist and twisted Myrtenaster out of her hand, kicking the sword away.

"What's the matter, princess?" Octavia demanded, as she hit Weiss again. "All out of tricks?"

Weiss could conjure glyphs without her sword — some of them, anyway, the basics — but it was a lot harder to do when someone wouldn't stop hitting you. Plus, she'd never been particularly good at unarmed combat. As Octavia grabbed by her ponytail and used it to slam her face into the rock before dragging towards the nearest geyser, that seemed like a significant gap in her skillset.

Weiss beat at Octavia with both hands, but the other girl barely seemed to feel it as she held Weiss's face out over the geyser.

Doctor Oobleck said something, but Weiss wasn't able to make it out as the water erupted up into her face. Gods, it was so hot! She could feel the scalding heat through her aura, even as she could feel it burning away her aura, the combination of intense heat and immense pressure tearing away her shield like … like dirt being scrubbed off some silverware.

It occurred to Weiss that if her aura broke before the geyser stopped spouting, there was a trap chance she might…

Thankfully, before she'd had much chance to contemplate that, the geyser did stop, and Weiss was left with the knowledge that she had not yet been eliminated.

How long that would last, she couldn't say.

Octavia slammed her down onto the rocks, the impact sending a shockwave through Weiss' aura.

She raised her knife.

Russel yelled wordlessly as he dropped upon them both, holding Flash's Caliburn in spear form in both hands, thrust out in front of him like a lancing thunderbolt.

Octavia stepped back, letting Russel land between her and Weiss. Russel waved the spear wildly, swinging with untutored enthusiasm that was nonetheless sufficient to get Octavia to give ground.

Cardin closed with her from behind, wrapping his arms around Octavia to grip her in a bear hug, lifting her up despite her struggling and flinging her into a nearby geyser just as it erupted.

The water blasted her upwards, shredding her aura before dumping her back down in the central hexagon.

"Octavia Ember has been eliminated by aura depletion," Professor Port cried. "And with that, Team Indigo has been completely eliminated. Team Wisteria takes the match!"

"We…" Weiss looked up at the board. There were crosses covering the faces of all four members of Team NDGO. "I didn't—"

"You were a little preoccupied there at the end," Flash said as he offered her a hand to help. "But yeah: we got them."

"And a good thing too, while we were still in time to rescue you," Russel said.

"Although it would have been a lot harder without you keeping those two busy," Flash pointed out.

"Maybe," Russel admitted. "But we still rescued her."

"Yes," Weiss agreed. "And I am very grateful, thank you." A smile blossomed upon her face. "We won. We won!" She jumped for joy as though she were a child again who had just mastered her first glyph. "We won!"

She couldn't hear the crowd. She genuinely couldn't hear them; their sound didn't reach her ears. What they thought, how vehemently they booed, it didn't matter to her.

She had won. They had won.

And that was all that mattered.

Lieutenant Martinez leaned back on the sofa, a slightly smug look in her face as she spread out her arms.

"You look like a proud parent," Mike observed.

"I am a proud parent," Martinez replied.

"I know you are," Mike said. "But they're not your kids."

"No, of course they're not," she said. "But they did well, and I don't know if I had anything to do with it, but … I'm proud of 'em anyway." The approving smile on her face grew broader. "Yeah, they did damn well."

Weiss had said that it didn’t matter what the crowd, or anyone, thought. She had said that all that mattered was their own pride in themselves, that they fought the fight and they won it.

She had said all of that, and she had meant it.

But when she led her team back into the tunnel, to see Blake waiting for her, and Rainbow Dash, and Team SAPR, and they had been making the tunnel echo with their applause, well…

That had felt good.

That had felt very good indeed.

The Plans We Make (New)

The Plans We Make

Shining Armor stiffened to attention as General Ironwood appeared in the entrance to Cadance’s private box. Her security detail made way for him as he stepped inside.

General Ironwood received Shining Armor’s salute and then returned it. “Captain Armor, it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise, sir.”

“How’s guarding the Council?”

“It … continues to be a great honour, sir.”

The corner of General Ironwood’s mouth turned upwards ever so slightly. “I’ll bet it is.”

“General Ironwood,” Cadance said, as she herself rose to her feet. “Thank you so much for joining us.”

“Yes, General,” Kali said, “thank you so much for joining us.” She had not, Cadance noted, risen to her feet.

Cadance cleared her throat. “General Ironwood, allow me to present Lady Kali Belladonna, wife of Ghira Belladonna and, thus, High Chieftainess of Menagerie. Kali—”

“This is the great General Ironwood, who needs no introduction,” Kali said, her voice soft and her tone somewhat unclear. From where she sat, slightly twisted around in her seat, she extended one arm out towards him.

But if General Ironwood was at all discomfited by it, he did not show it; he stepped forward, bowing as he himself reached out and took Kali’s hand, raising it almost, but not quite, to his lips. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

“Hmm,” Kali murmured.

General Ironwood straightened up, turning a few inches in Cadance’s direction. “Councillor, I would say that I came as soon as my duties permitted, but the truth is that I did watch that last match, if only out of a sense of what might have been.”

“'What might have been'?” Kali asked. “What might have been if young Weiss Schnee had attended Atlas instead of Beacon, I suppose?”

General Ironwood. “And Mister Sentry too, another Atlesian from a good family; but yes, Miss Schnee. Her sister Winter is one of my most promising young officers; I don’t mind admitting that I would have liked to have gotten her sister as well.”

“Perhaps Jacques Schnee felt that you’d collected enough of his children,” Kali said. “It might be one area in which I could understand his point of view.”

“Kali—”

“With respect, Councillor, the point is … a reasonable one,” General Ironwood said, raising one hand to stifle any objections that Cadance might make. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Belladonna told you that she’s transferring to Atlas next year.”

“Blake told me, yes,” Kali said.

“Then I’m sure, ma’am, that she didn’t tell you that I pushed her into it in any way,” General Ironwood said. “I’m sure that she didn’t tell you that because it didn’t happen, and Belladonna isn’t a liar.”

“No,” Kali admitted. “No, Blake … but nevertheless, can you perhaps understand my concerns? Do you have any children of your own, General?”

General Ironwood became very still and very quiet. Even when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. “I … I had two children, ma’am: a son and a daughter.”

Kali blinked. “'Had'?”

“My son … passed away, a couple of years ago.”

Kali’s golden eyes widened a little, her mouth forming an open O of shocked surprise. “I … I’m so sorry, General, I … it wasn’t my intent to stir up harmful … I can’t imagine what that must have been like.”

“It’s quite alright, ma’am,” General Ironwood replied, his voice becoming a little louder, but also stiffer, like an old tree that might crack under strong winds because it no longer had the ability to bend. “You were hardly to know.”

“And…” Kali paused a moment. “And your daughter?”

“Gone to Anima,” General Ironwood said. “I … haven’t heard from her in some time.”

“Ah,” Kali murmured. “Well, that … that is something that I understand very well. You have my deepest sympathies, General, and my hope that, one day, your daughter’s best friend will reach out to you behind her back in the way that Rainbow Dash reached out to me.”

General Ironwood’s eyebrows rose. “Dash did? Behind Belladonna’s back?”

“The wording makes it sound perhaps a little more malicious than it was,” Kali replied. “But yes, Rainbow Dash wrote me a very fine letter, and did so without telling Blake about it. For which I am very grateful; I fear that if it had been left to Blake, then either fear or stubbornness would have prevented her from ever making contact.”

General Ironwood almost smiled. “Dash has a good heart,” he said as he walked around the row of seats until he was standing over and in front of Kali, so that she didn’t need to twist her body around to look at him anymore. “A good heart, a strong heart, a brave heart. I’m afraid that if I need to wait for Aska to find a friend like that in Mistral who will reach out to me on her behalf, I might be waiting a long time; there aren’t that many like Dash around.”

Kali smiled. “You’re fond of her.”

“I wouldn’t speak to her like that for fear of making her head swell,” General Ironwood replied. “But yes, ma’am, I am very fond of her.”

“Then you must have been very pleased and impressed by her performance in the match a little while ago,” Kali said. “She did you proud.”

“All of my students have done me proud today, even the ones who didn’t quite manage to clinch victories,” General Ironwood declared. “But you’re right, Dash and her team were very impressive. And so was Belladonna.”

“Yes,” Kali said, “yes, Blake was marvellous, wasn’t she?” She looked up at General Ironwood. “Would you like to sit down, General? If only for the sake of my neck.”

General Ironwood sat. “You’d rather Blake stayed at Beacon with Team Iron, ma’am?”

“A part of me would rather that she wasn’t a huntress of any kind,” Kali admitted. “It’s a worthy cause, I know, but … her father and I never set out to raise a warrior, although the extent to which we can be said to have raised Blake at all can be unfortunately debated.” She paused. “Blake speaks very highly of Atlas, and of her Atlas comrades. More fondly than I might expect.”

“Have you met them?” General Ironwood asked.

“Some,” Kali said. “Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Trixie Lulamoon, Starlight Glimmer—”

“Then you know that they deserve every good word that Blake has to say about them, and more,” General Ironwood said.

Kali was quiet for a moment, but her golden eyes twinkled a little. She spoke softly but clearly as she said, “I’m beginning to suspect that you have a lot more than just two children, General Ironwood.”

General Ironwood made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. “Well, ma’am, I … I make no apologies for being proud of my kids. If I wasn’t, I’d only have myself to blame for not teaching them better.” It was his turn to pause. “Coming to Atlas is Belladonna’s choice, not mine.”

“But you welcome her presence,” Kali said.

“I welcome all talented students who wish to come to Atlas,” General Ironwood said. “And Belladonna is very, very talented.”

“You talk almost as if you did nothing to seek her out,” Kali said. “You got her out of jail, you brought her into your fold—”

“We needed her assistance,” General Ironwood reminded her. “I think that Dash might have had some longer term plan for Belladonna, but for my part, I never laid any obligation on her, and I didn’t envisage where this road would take her when we set off down it.”

“So what you’re telling me is that this Rainbow Dash’s fault, not yours?”

“I’m telling you that this is Belladonna’s choice,” General Ironwood said.

“Mhmm,” Kali murmured. “Blake has always made her own choices, whether I agreed with them or not.”

“What is it, in particular, that you disapprove of?” General Ironwood asked. “Atlas, military service, or something else?”

Kali was silent for a moment. “Honestly … I’m not sure that I could say. Certainly … I’m sorry, General, this isn’t your fault, and I can’t even say that … as you say, Blake’s made her choice, and I’m prepared to live with it. She wants to be a huntress, and I have to accept that. If she also wants to be an Atlesian soldier as well, then … as the wife of a high chieftain, I can hardly get on any anti-authority horse, can I? I suppose … I suppose I’m a little upset that she decided without talking to me about it, although, of course she didn’t talk to me about it; I wasn’t here.”

“The fact that there is a good explanation doesn’t make it any easier,” General Ironwood murmured.

“No,” Kali said. “No, it doesn’t, does it?” She sighed. “She’s not going to be a trophy for you, is she? You’re not going to put her on a metaphorical shelf somewhere so that you can point to Blake Belladonna, daughter of a former leader of the White Fang, proof that you and Atlas aren’t racist?”

“I’m going to put Belladonna in school with all of my other students,” General Ironwood said, “and when she graduates, I’m going to put her to work with all of my other specialists. I don’t have propaganda soldiers, I don’t have trophies; I have brave kids who are willing to offer up their guns in the service of Atlas.”

Shining Armor coughed, “Well, sir—”

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Captain Armor,” General Ironwood said.

“I don’t understand,” Kali said.

“My husband’s position guarding the Council keeps him out of the field,” Cadance explained. “I fear General Ironwood has just made him feel meanly of himself.”

“For no reason,” General Ironwood insisted. “It’s a job that has to be done.”

Kali glanced Shining Armor’s way. “I don’t suppose there’s any way that Blake…” She trailed off. “No, no, that … Blake wouldn’t want me to interfere and she certainly wouldn’t want a position like that.”

“No,” General Ironwood agreed. “I don’t think she would.”

Kali was quiet for a moment. “All of this is, to some extent, reassuring, General, but … it really never occurred to you that having someone with the Belladonna name in your forces would be a fillip for Atlas?”

“Despite having two seats on the Council, ma’am, I’m more than content to leave politics to the politicians,” General Ironwood said.

Kali chuckled. “Is that so, General? Then perhaps I should redirect my question to Cadance?”

“I would never presume to interfere in General Ironwood’s running of the military,” Cadance said as she sat down on the other side of Kali, “but, at the same time, I’m very glad that Blake’s involvement provided an opportunity for us to meet like this.” Now it was Cadance’s turn to pause. “Efforts to help the faunus within Atlas are often slow, and made slower by vested interests and, I have to admit, a certain indifference from some who live amongst the clouds for the lives of those who live on the ground below. It can sometimes take a big impact, like the discoveries that Blake and Rainbow Dash made around those secret SDC facilities, to cause a shift in public opinion that opens up space for radical action. But, when it comes to diplomacy … there is less popular interest in foreign policy, and so there is more room to act without constant reference to the opinion of a public that doesn’t really hold strong views either way. It isn’t ideal, but I think that Atlas may be able to help Menagerie more easily than we can help our own faunus living in Mantle or Low Town.”

“Help Menagerie how?” asked Kali.

“That depends,” Cadance replied. “What does Menagerie want?”

“We do we want?” Kali repeated. “Oh, I could give you a list if you have time for it, but to start with, Menagerie wants admission into the family of kingdoms. We’re not some out-of-the-way backwater that you can forget about; we have as much claim to be regarded as a kingdom as Atlas, Mistral, Vale, or Vacuo. What makes Vacuo a kingdom that Menagerie does not possess? Unlike the four kingdoms, we actually have someone who might with justice be called a king. We want recognition, we want to be able to trade freely with our neighbours, and we want to be able to talk to our neighbours as well; we want a CCT tower. Can Atlas give us that?”

“I don’t see why not, since it was Atlas who gave the network to the four kingdoms in the first place,” Cadance replied. “General, can you think of any reason why a fifth tower could not be built in Menagerie?”

“I’m not a technician, Councillor, so I couldn’t say for certain,” General Ironwood replied. “I know that the CCT system was designed to work with four towers, but whether that means that it’s impossible to add more … personally, I’d welcome a fifth tower; it would mean that one of the towers could go offline without the whole system dropping out. I can certainly have it looked into.”

“You can have it…” Kali trailed off. “You … you’re serious?”

“I was asked a serious question; I gave a serious answer,” General Ironwood said.

“And you,” Kali said, turning to Cadance. “You’re serious?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” asked Cadance.

“Because…” Kali stared at her for a moment. “Why?”

“Because this is something that I can do, while there are other things that I would like to do which I cannot,” Cadance admitted. “Because, as I told you, there is sometimes more latitude in foreign affairs. Because Atlas has a moral obligation, conferred on us by our wealth and strength alike, to show a leadership that is both moral and practical and … not always exercised by us as it should be. And because you’re right; there is nothing that sets Menagerie apart from the four kingdoms — the other four kingdoms — except that the four kingdoms themselves act as though it should be so. Why shouldn’t Menagerie have a CCT Tower? Why shouldn’t Menagerie have a huntsman academy, why shouldn’t there be teams from that academy fighting in the Vytal Festival, right here and now, for our entertainment?”

“Because the Last King of Vale didn’t like Menagerie,” Kali said. “He didn’t agree with the plans of Mistral to deport their faunus — it is hard to condemn him for that; many faunus didn’t like it either — he wanted the faunus to be treated as equals within the kingdoms, not sent away to somewhere else entirely. That was not immoral of him, but the way that he wasn’t able to see that some faunus might actually wish to live in their own land, away from men, the way that he acted as though if Menagerie were ignored and excluded, it would eventually go away … he was a great man, without doubt, but he erred greatly in that.”

“And a man who has been dead for many years,” Cadance said. “Why should we be bound forevermore by his disapproval? Menagerie is a fact, and how can we claim to treat the faunus as equals while treating the homeland of the faunus as inferior to majority-human kingdoms? If Menagerie wishes to join the international community, then I will do all I can to open up the doors.”

Kali nodded. “That would be … incredible, but I’m afraid that there are some in Menagerie or amongst the faunus who won’t see it the same way.”

“The White Fang,” Cadance murmured.

“Obviously, but not just them,” Kali said. “I wouldn’t worry about the White Fang; Sienna will huff and puff, but she won’t start a fight in Menagerie—”

“Can you be certain about that?” General Ironwood asked.

“I can, actually, seeing as I live there,” Kali replied, with a touch of asperity in her voice. “Certainly, we wouldn’t need Atlesian troops deployed to secure the CCT tower. That would do more for instability than anything Sienna Khan might say or do, no … the White Fang is popular on Menagerie; it’s seen as a group that is fighting for our people and their rights. But, crucially, that support is based on them fighting for our people and their rights somewhere far away from Menagerie and those who support them. That support is broad, yes, but not deep, and if Sienna chooses to start shooting or setting off bombs in Menagerie, then she’ll soon find out just how shallow the sea of her support is. She’s not so much a fool. No, the White Fang is not the issue; the issue is the fear that some will have — the fear that I share, to some extent — that if we step through the doors that you offer to open, we’ll be opening our own doors to exploitation by the SDC.”

“I didn’t realise there was dust in Menagerie,” Cadance said.

Kali nodded. “In the interior. Between the hostile environment and a lack of heavy mining equipment, we haven’t had much luck getting it out of the ground, but we’re pretty sure it’s there. Faunus who came to Menagerie from the mines of Mantle were convinced of it, and dreamt of extracting it for their own benefit, to no avail.”

Cadance was silent for a moment. “Then perhaps,” she said, “it is time for that dream, too, to come of age.”

Kali’s eyebrows rose. “Why … why would an Atlesian—?”

“Recent events,” Cadance said, with a sigh in her voice, “have unfortunately demonstrated that the Schnee Dust Company is not only a far poorer standard bearer for Atlas than could have been guessed, but also that it may not even be a reliable partner for Atlas. A company in which the CEO is unaware of what several of his own board members are doing is … as I say, it isn’t very reliable.” Cadance paused for a moment. “Perhaps the time has come to try a new approach.”

All the skybuses down from the arena were adorned with festive bunting on the outside, flags in green, blue, white, and yellow adorning all of the airships that ferried the contestants and the crowds alike between the arena and the grounds of Beacon below.

Including the airship that Team SAPR was on, bringing them back after the end of Team WWSR’s victory over Team NDGO.

It was crowded. The airship that had brought them up here had been crowded, and the one that was bringing them back was crowded too. No doubt, when Sunset came back again to watch Team TTSS, then that would be crowded, and it would still be crowded when Team SAPR took the skybus back to the arena for their match.

Pyrrha was beginning to think that there was not a single thing connected with this tournament that was not crowded.

Sunset had hoped that, mid-afternoon as it was, they might catch a flight back that was a little more vacant, but that had proved to be very optimistic of her.

The skybuses were little more than flying boxes, albeit reasonably comfortable flying boxes; there was no pilot, and no one checking tickets either; everything was fully automated — although someone with more mechanical knowhow than Pyrrha might know how to manually override everything in a pinch — programmed to go between the docking pads and the Amity Colosseum at set intervals. The flying box was mostly taken up with row after row of cushioned red seats, in rows eight seats wide, but all of those seats were taken up, and it was standing room only, with people pressed together throughout the skybus right up to the windows.

It was against one of the windows that Pyrrha was standing now, with Sunset on one side of her and Jaune on the other, with Ruby beside him. Turning her head — the only movement she could really make at present — she could see one of the Atlesian cruisers hovering nearby, attended by a small throng of lesser airships looping around it. Beyond that, she could see a Valish destroyer with its guns emerging out of the sloping armour of the hull, and beyond that, compensating with its sheer size for the fact that it was farthest off, one of the giant Mistralian battleships that Vale had purchased to augment its defences.

A flash of light from inside the skybus made her close her eyes for a moment, and Pyrrha looked back inside the airship.

Someone, a bearded and bespectacled man standing up in his seat, lowered his scroll from in front of his face. He did not apologise.

“A bit rude, don’t you think?” Sunset demanded.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured, fixing a smile upon her face. “Let it go.”

“He didn’t even ask!” Sunset snapped. “You didn’t even ask!”

“Do you ask permission of the painting in the gallery or the statue in the museum before you take a photograph?” Pyrrha asked.

“Actually, I think a lot of art galleries have rules about no pictures,” Ruby pointed out. “We got thrown out once because we didn’t read the signs.”

“Well … yes, I suppose that wasn’t a particularly good example,” Pyrrha admitted.

“Not least because you’re not a painting,” Sunset said, “or a statue.”

“But I am public property,” Pyrrha said softly, speaking out of the side of her mouth as the smile remained fixed upon her face. “We all are. That’s what it means to compete in the Vytal Tournament.”

Sunset frowned. “It wouldn’t have killed him to ask you if it was okay first.”

“It is what it is,” Pyrrha replied. “The only thing that making a fuss will accomplish is to get a bad reputation. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Sunset huffed for so long that it almost became a sigh. “I suppose not; that wasn’t much fun the first time,” she said. “Still…” She trailed off, which Pyrrha took for begrudging admission that she, Pyrrha, was right.

No other flashes went off inside the skybus, but the man who had taken the picture was not the only person inside the airship who was interested in Pyrrha. There were eyes turned her way, and scrolls too; Pyrrha thought it likely that at least one person was filming her, although why they would want to when she was just standing in a skybus waiting to land was rather beyond her.

But they watched her nevertheless, as though even the spectacle of Pyrrha Nikos standing still was a momentous and fascinating one.

She had been a celebrity for many years, arguably since she had been born, and yet, there were still times when she found it to be a very strange world indeed.

She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers, less than a moment before she felt his lips upon her cheek.

The smile upon her face became a little more genuine, even as Pyrrha’s eyes widened in surprise just a tad as she turned her head to look at him.

Jaune grinned sheepishly as he shrugged. “Well, if they were going to look anyway, I thought … give them something worth looking at?”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really?”

“Well, I—”

Pyrrha reached out with her free hand, wrapping it around Jaune’s neck, her fingers in her long, floppy hair, as she leaned forwards, her body pressing against his, and kissed him fully on the lips.

Her eyes were closed, but nevertheless, she could see the light of the flashes going off; they would leave blotches of blue and green in her vision when she opened her eyes, but Pyrrha found she really didn’t care.

No, she didn’t care one bit.

“Now that was something worth looking at,” Pyrrha said mischievously as she broke off, moving back a little — only a little, as much for practical reasons as emotional ones — from him.

Jaune stared at her, a rich, ripe blush upon his cheeks, his eyes wide. “Yeah,” he murmured weakly. “Yeah, I … I guess it probably was.” He managed a smile. “Worth … worth it, too.”

Sunset sighed, and when Pyrrha looked over her shoulder, she saw their team leader shaking her head.

“I’m not sure that I’d want people watching that,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Sunset’s right, Ruby; we aren’t statues. If people are going to watch, then let them watch; why should we circumscribe our lives for their benefit? I’m not ashamed to be in love; what do I have to hide?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Ruby murmured. “Good for you guys, I guess.”

Pyrrha glanced across the skybus to where Team WWSR was stood against the other side of the airship. There were eyes on Weiss too — and on Rainbow Dash and Blake, who were near the front of their airship, their backs to everyone; although as Pyrrha glanced their way, she saw a little girl wearing a rainbow wig tug on one leg of Rainbow’s pants to get her attention — flashes going off in her face, and in the faces of her teammates.

Weiss didn’t deal with it by kissing anyone, but she was ignoring everyone taking pictures of her or staring at her; instead, she was deep in conversation with Flash, their faces pressed very close together, almost touching.

Sunset was watching them too. Pyrrha didn’t find that particularly strange, but the fact that Sunset was smiling as she watched … that, Pyrrha did find a little odd.

“You’re smiling,” she observed.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling,” Pyrrha repeated, smiling herself.

“I…” The smile faded a moment, then returned to Sunset’s face. “Well … why wouldn’t I?”

“Well…” Pyrrha trailed off.

The smile remained on Sunset’s face. “That was all a long time ago, Pyrrha; it’s been done a while, and I’m over it.” She paused a moment. “Ruby, can you text Penny and ask her if she can stay with Amber for a little while longer?”

“Sure,” Ruby said. “But why? Aren’t we going to meet up?”

“Not right away,” Sunset replied. “First, since it seems that there isn’t anywhere else that won’t be crowded, we’re going to go back to our dorm room, and we’re going to plan out our strategy against Team Pastel.”

“That will be difficult without knowing the terrain on which we’ll be fighting,” Pyrrha murmured.

“True,” Sunset allowed. “But we can still lay down some ground rules, some principles to guide our approach to the battle.” She paused. “I know that you’ve beaten Phoebe Kommenos every time that you’ve met her — not that that says too much; you’ve beaten everyone every time you’ve met them, but still — but I don’t want to underestimate her, and I don’t want to underestimate her team, and I especially don’t want this team to fall on its tailbone in front of your mother and the whole of Remnant because we breezed into the arena like we had it in the bag. We’re going to take this seriously, okay?”

“Right,” Jaune said. “Nobody wants to mess this up.”

“How much do we know about them?”

“I know some things,” Sunset replied. “I’d like to get a second opinion, though. Hey, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow looked across the skybus towards them. “Yeah?”

“Can you come with us when we land?” Sunset asked. “I need to pick your brain about something.”

Rainbow did, in fact, come with them; when the skybus landed back on the docking pad, they left Blake and Team WWSR behind and moved down the path, passing as swiftly as they could through the heaving crowds until they reached the near-deserted sanctuary of the dormitories, where tourists and visitors were not allowed. Once they were there, it was only a short hop back to the dorm room, which felt quite refreshingly free of people as Pyrrha sat down in the window seat, tucking her red sash over her legs.

Outside her window faced the direction to let her still see the fairgrounds, the packed crowds, and the many available entertainments, and a little of the noise still reached her ears through the windows.

It was little enough, though, that she had no issue with ignoring it and keeping her attention on Sunset.

The latter had gotten a chess set out from underneath her bed — or Amber’s bed, considering who was using it presently — taking out a total of eight pieces, four white and four black.

Jaune sat down on his bed, while Ruby grabbed one of the chairs from the desk running against the wall and turned it around so she was facing Sunset.

Rainbow leaned against the door, her fingertips tapping against the wood.

“So, what’s up?” she asked. “What do you need my help with?”

“I need your thoughts on Team Pastel,” Sunset explained. “Seeing as they’re Atlas students.”

“Yeah, Atlas students three years above me,” Rainbow said. “I’m retaking my first year, but I was never in the same year as Phoebe or her team.”

“You’ve seen them fight though, right?” Sunset asked.

Rainbow nodded. “A little bit. First and second year students are invited to watch some of the upperclassmen combat classes, to gain the benefits of their experience.”

“Then you can correct me if I’m getting anything wrong,” Sunset said. “Unless your loyalty to Atlas is greater than any bond that we share.”

“For some teams, I wouldn’t help you,” Rainbow said. “If you were up against Tsunami, even Funky, I would be out the door, but Pastel … nah, you can take them out. If Phoebe wants loyalty, she ought to show some once in a while. What do you want to know?”

“I’m just thinking about how we want to approach this,” Sunset said. She squatted down on the floor with her chess pieces. “Okay, so the white pieces are us, and the black pieces are Team Pastel.” She picked up the first piece, the white queen, and pointed with it towards Pyrrha. “That’s Pyrrha.” She put down the queen and picked up the white knight. “This is me.” Down went the knight, up went the white rook. “This is Jaune, the rook.” She put down the white rook and picked up the white bishop. “And this is Ruby.” Sunset put down the white bishop. “And for Team Pastel, we have Phoebe Kommenos, the black queen; Mal Sapphire, the black knight; Thorn Hubert, the black rook; and Lycus Silvermane, the black bishop. Is everyone with me so far?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Although, having only ever encountered Phoebe in the arena, those names mean nothing to me.”

“Fortunately, I’ve done some snooping around on that front,” Sunset said, “although Rainbow will surely correct me if I’m wrong.”

Rainbow grinned. “Surely,” she said.

Sunset snorted. A green glow surrounded one of her hands, as she telekinetically lifted up the black queen. “Pyrrha, you’ve fought her before; what’s Phoebe’s semblance? I tried to find out, but I couldn’t. I know the semblances of her teammates, but not hers.”

“How do you know her teammates' semblances?” asked Ruby.

“I asked around,” Sunset said. “And I…” She cleared her throat. “I may have spent a little of Lady Nikos’ money getting Atlas upperclassmen to talk to me and spill the beans on Team Pastel. A use of which I have no doubt Lady Nikos would approve wholeheartedly.”

“Just so long as you didn’t bribe any of Team Pastel to throw the match, I’m sure you’re right,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset looked at her. “Pyrrha. Please. I have my pride, and my faith in this team. Anyway, the point is that nobody could — or would — tell me about Phoebe’s semblance.”

“I’m not surprised; I’m not sure myself,” Pyrrha admitted. “Certainly, I’ve never seen her use it. It may not be of much use in combat.”

“Or she’s hiding it,” Ruby suggested.

“It hasn’t done her much good if she’s keeping it quiet,” Jaune pointed out.

“True,” Sunset murmured. “Either way that’s … unfortunate, but it is what it is. If she has a semblance that she can use but isn’t making much of, that’s not something we have to worry about. If it’s a non-combat semblance, then again, we don’t have to worry about it. If it’s something else … there’s nothing we can do. Anyway, moving on to her teammates.” She levitated the black knight up into the air to join the queen. “Mal Sapphire; her semblance is fire-breathing—”

“It’s called Dragonsbreath,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, but it’s breathing fire, isn’t it?” Sunset replied. “Is she a pyromaniac?”

Rainbow frowned. “I don’t think so, why?”

“Because I’ve heard she lights herself on fire as well,” Sunset said.

“It’s not like that,” Rainbow said. “She sets her cape on fire with dust. You do that too; it doesn’t make you a pyromaniac.”

“I don’t breathe fire as well,” Sunset murmured. “But anyway, she fights with a staff—”

“Don’t let the dust crystal at the top of her staff fool you,” Rainbow said. “She’s got seven dust chambers built into that staff and can cycle between them.”

Sunset levitated the black rook up to join the queen and the knight. “Thorn Hubert; he’s Team Pastel’s long range combatant; he’s an archer and another one who doesn’t make much use of his semblance as far as I could find out.”

“My guess is that whatever his semblance is, it isn’t much use for a bowman,” Rainbow said. “He’s a good shot though, and he uses all kinds of trick arrows.”

“You mean dust?” asked Ruby.

“Dust, sure,” Rainbow said. “But other things too; I once saw him shoot an arrow that burst in mid-air like a Hailstorm missile, and each fragment then exploded when it hit the floor.”

“And lastly,” Sunset said, as she levitated the final black piece, the bishop, up to join the others, “we have Lycus Silvermane—”

“His first name sounds Mistralian,” Pyrrha observed.

“I think he’s from Argus,” Rainbow said. “Mistralian mom, Atlesian dad. Or the other way around. Or something like that.” She paused. “Phoebe pays his way.”

“How do you mean?” asked Jaune.

“I mean that the word around Atlas is that when he started out at the academy, he dressed like Sun,” Rainbow said, “but now, everything he wears is tailored. She buys his loyalty.”

“Let’s not rush to cast aspersions, even if it is Phoebe Kommenos,” Sunset said quickly, a certain stiffness in her voice. “Just because … maybe she recognises his talent and wishes to nurture it.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, you may be right.”

Clearly, Sunset was not enjoying the comparison, and while it was a ridiculous comparison — nobody paid for Sunset’s loyalty, and certainly not Pyrrha’s mother — Pyrrha thought that Sunset might rather move on from the subject instead of being reassured upon the subject.

“Why him?” Jaune asked. “Why him specifically?”

“Because he’s good,” Rainbow replied. “I’d say, having seen the team in action, that he’s the best of them. He’s not always their vanguard — Phoebe likes to go tip of the spear herself, for bragging — but he’s right there beside her. He fights with sickles, although he’s pretty good with his fists, and his semblance—”

“Lets him disguise himself as other people,” Sunset murmured.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “I don’t think he can do it for very long; I saw him use it once, and it drained his aura like you wouldn’t believe. Like he had a hole in his bucket. He uses it to throw people off their game.”

Sunset nodded. “Having seen them in action, what’s your opinion of them as a team?”

“I don’t like giving Phoebe any credit,” Rainbow muttered, “but she runs a tight ship. She may be an awful person and a poor fighter on her own, but she’s got a good team. They’ve got a good balance of close, medium, and long range, and they all know what they’re doing.”

“Well, so do I,” Sunset muttered. Her brow furrowed. “So, what do we do about this good team that we’re up against? Jaune? Anyone?”

Jaune leaned forward, elbows resting on his knee, one hand cupped around his chin. “You say … you say that Phoebe leads?”

Rainbow nodded. “That’s right. As far as I’ve seen, anyway.”

“Right,” Jaune murmured. He glanced at Pyrrha. “She’s going to go after you. Everything points to it. The fact that you’re rivals, the fact that you’re our best fighter, Mistralian values, it’s all there; she’s going to go for you. I don’t see how she can do anything else.”

“But Pyrrha’s always beating her,” Ruby pointed out.

“I’ve heard that Team Pastel uses numbers,” Sunset said. “They isolate certain members of the opposition, take them out, and then move on.”

“I’d say that’s fair, from watching them,” Rainbow agreed. “From what I’ve seen, they use Mal Sapphire to block; she keeps the … other members of the enemy team pinned down while Phoebe and Lycus deal with the target.”

“And Thorn Hubert?” Jaune asked.

“He can go either way, supporting the Mal or the main thrust; it depends how it goes,” Rainbow said.

“So,” Sunset said, “if we assume Jaune’s right — and he makes a good point — we should expect that Team Pastel will try and isolate Pyrrha and take her out before moving on to the rest of us.”

“But we’re not going to let that happen, right?” Jaune said.

Sunset grinned. “Come down here and play with these chess pieces while we work out how to stop it.”

She put down the black pieces and picked up the white queen, moving it to a position on the carpet a little way away from the others.

“Pyrrha,” she said, “on the basis of past actions and cultural mores and … personal grudges, we say that Phoebe and Lycus will go for her, with possible archery support from Thorn.” She placed the black queen and black bishop near to the white queen, with the black rook set a little behind them. “I agree that’s likely. Thoughts on how to stop it?”

Jaune got up and walked across the room, moving carefully so as not to step on any of the chess pieces. He squatted down opposite Sunset, one hand hovering over the remaining white pieces.

“I’m sure that Pyrrha could take on two opponents,” he began.

“That’ll get you another kiss later,” Sunset muttered, grinning.

“Hey, I’m serious,” Jaune said. “But … it would be best if we didn’t let them have things their own way. I’ll hold off Mal and Lycus; Ruby can take care of Thorn from a distance.” He put the white rook and bishop down on the carpet, moving the black knight and bishop further away from the two queens. “While you stick with Pyrrha.” He put down the white knight next to the white queen.

Rainbow frowned, but said nothing.

Sunset blinked. “You and Ruby?” she said.

Jaune nodded. “Sure. Why?”

“It’s not a bad start,” Sunset said. “But you have it backwards in one respect.” She swapped the white knight and the white rook around. “You stick with Pyrrha. I’ll hold off Mal and Lycus, and like you say, Ruby can take out Thorn.”

“Sniper duel?” Ruby asked.

“Sniper duel,” Sunset confirmed.

“Are we sure that it’s necessary for me to confront Phoebe?” Pyrrha asked. “If this Lycus Silvermane is the best fighter on their team, then perhaps I should seek to oppose him instead?”

“Your fans might prefer another instance of you stomping Phoebe into the ground,” Sunset pointed out.

“Are we here to win or to please my fans?” Pyrrha asked.

“Ideally both,” Sunset replied. “But I take your point—”

“Except that if Phoebe really wants to fight you—” Jaune began.

“That’s no different from her wanting to bring her team to bear on Pyrrha,” Ruby said. “We’re stopping that; why not stop Phoebe?”

“It could be more awkward, but not impossible,” Sunset murmured. “Okay, how is this? Ruby takes care of Thorn; I’ll go for Phoebe; Pyrrha, you and Jaune go for Lycus.” She started rearranging the chess pieces on the floor: the black rook and the white bishop at opposite ends, far away from one another, the white knight against the black queen, the white queen and rook against the black bishop. Only the black knight remained. Sunset tossed it up and down in her hands. “But what would Mal Sapphire do in that circumstance? Support her leader, or support Lycus?”

“I could … at least delay her,” Jaune offered.

“On the logic that our opponents will at least try and swarm Pyrrha, I’d rather have you stay close by her so that she’s not alone,” Sunset said. “And besides, you’re more use for your semblance than your sword. No offence.”

“None taken,” Jaune said.

“If Mal Sapphire does attempt to support Lycus Silvermane, then I should be able to deal with them both,” Pyrrha said. “As should you, Sunset, I think. Certainly, you are Phoebe’s equal, else she would have faced you for Soteria herself.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay then. Obviously, things like the terrain will play their part, but in principle, I think we have the beginnings of a plan.”

Phoebe Kommenos was in her own dorm room, in the bathroom, with the door closed.

She wanted a little privacy.

Her purse sat on the washboard in front of her, open.

She had taken the pictures of her mother and sister out and placed them up against the wall, with the scented candles burning around them and the little silver icons of the gods of Mistral placed nearby, with the candlelight reflecting off the metal.

Not many people were religious these days, but Phoebe’s ancestor had fought a war for self-expression, so she would make her respects to the gods when she wished to. Nobody in her team questioned it. If they ever wondered why the bathroom smelt sometimes, they didn’t ask her.

Phoebe breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of ocean air that wafted from the burning blue candles.

Her eyes fell on the little icons of the gods. The gods of her household were all gone; they had burned in the fire that had swept through the House of Kommenos and claimed the lives of her mother and sister; the clay had cracked, the metal had melted, there had been nothing left of the gods of the household — the gods who had failed to protect the household. It was fitting, perhaps, that they should have burned alongside those who they were meant to watch over.

But it meant that Phoebe was without household gods, just as she was without a home or a household. It was only the gods of Mistral that she could speak to now, where she was but one voice amongst many that still called out to them.

Nevertheless, she would speak.

Phoebe closed her eyes. “Erech, god of the underworld, god of the dead, look kindly upon the souls of my mother and sister as they wander in the domain of shades. Lead them to the Blessed Isles where the grain-giving earth bears honey-scented fruit. Let them live afterlives untouched by misery.

“And if the gods and merciful shall grant me victory upon this day, then let the sound of my triumph echo down into the domain of the shades and let it reach their ears through the gate of ivory that they may know it is no false dream but the truth. Let them know that I have done well at last. That I have laid her low and bested her and redeemed the honour of our house against the House of Nikos.

“Callisto, sharpen my mind and make me cunning. Eulalia, loud of the war cry, strengthen my arm. Thessaly, lady of the night, shower down a hundred curses upon Pyrrha Nikos and let her be wracked with a thousand pains like maggots devouring her from the inside out until she is consumed by them. Let her die, but let me defeat her before she dies.

“All of this, I ask, O gods, and vow to command the sacrifice of a white bull from my herds, and two fat sows besides, that the scent of their flesh will waft up to the skies and be most pleasing to your nostrils.”

Phoebe opened her eyes, her gaze fixing upon the picture of Philonoe. How fair might she have grown to be, had she lived? Would she not have been a beauty to dazzle all of Mistral and put Pyrrha Nikos in the shade?

Turnus would have loved you fair, for all he turns his eyes away from me. He would have loved you, and it would have contented me to see you wed the Lord Rutulus, my sweet, dear sister.

Oh, happy fair.

Oh what a life that was denied to us.

Watch me, sister. I will yet give you reason to be proud.

Phoebe blew out the candles, and as the smoke filled the bathroom, she picked up her pictures and put them away in her purse, closing it up with a snap and a click of the clasp, before she…

Before she looked up, and caught sight of her own face in the bathroom mirror.

This is your last chance.

Your last chance, and you will waste it, as you have so many other chances before.

You can’t beat her. You never have, and you never have because she’s better than you. Better and more fortunate in every way, blessed by the gods.

She has everything, and you have nothing. You deserve to have nothing.

Such a disappointment.

Phoebe’s face twisted into a snarling scowl as she slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering it, sending cracks spreading out across the glass, her single reflection becoming half a hundred different reflections, all looking at her with anger and disgust.

“Phoe—” Lycus started to speak from outside, his voice coming in from the other side of the door. “My lady?”

He understood deference, did Lycus, even if he was only an Argive mongrel, a half-breed in every way. He understood what she required of him, not only in battle, but in other respects as well. He understood how she expected him to behave if he was to maintain the lifestyle to which, thanks to her, he had become accustomed.

He was a good boy.

Phoebe picked up her purse, holding it in one hand as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Lycus was waiting for her, already dressed for battle, wearing custom-fitted blue jeans with black synthetic poleyns and cuisses strapped to his upper legs and knees and a hole specially cut at the back for his grey lupine tail to emerge without damaging the integrity of the pants; often, when faunus had to take scissors to their garments, it led to things starting to unravel, but not in this case. His black t-shirt was tight over his body, revealing every muscle underneath, while more muscles bulged upon his arms, only partly hidden by the black synthetic coulters and vambraces around his lower arms and elbows. His shoulder pauldrons, too, were black, as were the fingerless gloves that sat upon his hands. He was already armed, a pair of sickles thrust into his belt. Around his left arm, he wore a plain gold honour band, a band that she had given him to bind him to her.

His features were sharp, and his hair was long and silver white and the most untidy thing about him, a long shock of hair falling down between his eyes and covering his nose, partly concealing one blue eye from view. He was a handsome youth. If he were not a faunus, if he were not of such common birth, if he were fully Mistralian, then she might … but no. No, she was not Pyrrha Nikos to be so heedless of custom, manners, and propriety. Faunus might make good servants, but servants made poor partners.

He was useful, but his uses had limits.

“Is everything okay, my lady?” he asked.

“Everything’s fine,” she said briskly as she shut the bathroom door. She would get Mal to clean up the broken glass later.

Phoebe walked to the desk that ran along the wall of this Beacon room, pulled out a chair, and sat down upon it, facing Lycus.

He kept his eyes upon her.

“Once, long ago, when Mistral was young,” Phoebe said, “Mistral went to war with the Kingdom of Thrace, a rival for power in Anima. The Emperor sent his best and noblest general, Lord Paullus, to subjugate the Thracians, and he did, defeating them in battle and taking their queen prisoner. Lord Paullus brought the Thracian Queen Tamara home to Mistral in chains, accompanied by her husband and children. But for Paullus, the victory was tinged with bitterness, for both his sons had perished in the war, and he had no other heirs to carry on his line. The House of Paullus would end with him. So who was the more fortunate, or unfortunate, in the end? The general who conquered his enemies and won great glory; or the queen who was defeated, but who yet had the consolation of her family around her even in the midst of ruin. Who was the more unfortunate?”

Lycus was quiet for a moment. “I would say … it was the queen,” he said. “Yeah, she had her family still, but the Emperor could have had them all killed whenever he wanted, and there would have been nothing that she could do about it.”

No, you’re wrong; the most unfortunate person is myself, Phoebe thought, for I have neither great glory in arms to take pride in nor the love of my family to console me in the lack of great accomplishment.

I have nothing and no one.

While she has both, glory and love. How is that fair? How can that be just? How can it be right that not one single tragedy has befallen her to balance out the blessings she has had of fortune?

“What…?” Lycus pause for a moment. “What did happen to her, my lady?”

“Who?”

“The Queen of the Thracians.”

“Oh,” Phoebe said, “the Emperor’s son became besotted with the beauty of Tamara’s daughter and took the Thracian princess to wife. When he took the throne, he raised her kinsfolk to high honour.” And now, they are the Stewards of Mistral and rule the city in the absence of an Emperor. How fortune turns.

“Huh,” Lycus said. “Lucky them.”

“Yes,” Phoebe murmured. “Lucky them.” She paused. “Get Mal and Thorn in here.”

Lycus got to his feet. “Right away, my lady.”

He crossed the room in quick strides, flinging the door open. “In,” he said peremptorily.

Mal Sapphire and Thorn Hubert shuffled inside from where they had been waiting in the corridor for her to be ready to deal with them.

Mal was a little sheep faunus girl, with ram’s horns emerging from out of the sides of her head to curl around her ears. Her hair was blonde, dyed blue at the tips to match her eyes, and her features were soft, too soft in Phoebe’s opinion; she looked as though she were forever about to start crying. She wore a sapphire blue dress with long, baggy sleeves, although much of it was covered by a black cloak that trailed along the floor.

Thorn was a little shorter than Lycus, but broader in the shoulder and just as muscular in the arms. He was dressed in various shades of brown and green, like a mixture of fresh leaves and dead ones, with the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to expose his biceps to view. His hair was dark and cut short, and his features were square and solid like an anvil fit for smithing swords upon.

Phoebe regarded them both, her gaze flitting from one to the other.

She did not invite them to sit down, nor did they move to do so. Even Lycus remained standing after he shut the door behind them.

“This battle,” she said, “will not be an easy one. The reputation of our enemies goes before them, and that reputation is … well merited. I do not walk into the arena expecting easy victories. But nor will I resign myself to defeat, not yet.”

Though I cannot outfight Pyrrha, I may yet outwit her.

“Nor will I permit you to resign yourselves to defeat either; we may yet triumph. We may yet cover ourselves in glory and bring honour to our names. We may, I say we shall yet win because we will confound their expectations.

“They think that we will focus on Pyrrha, their strongest, their champion; they think that Mistralian honour and my pride will compel me to seek her out. No doubt, they are already making plans for how to counter our plans that they have imagined in their minds. But it will not be so.” On the desk were four pictures, pictures of the members of Team SAPR. Phoebe spread them out, pushing them closer to Mal and Thorn. Her fingers lingered over Pyrrha’s boyfriend, Jaune Arc. “We will deal with the weakest members of Team Sapphire first: Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose; only then will we confront the stronger half of the team, when we have the advantage of numbers. In this way, we will take them completely by surprise and force them to react to us and our actions. Thorn: when the battle begins, you will make Sunset and Pyrrha dance with your arrows; Lycus, you and Mal will cut off Jaune Arc from all aid and tear through his aura.”

“He’s got a lot of it, my lady,” Lycus murmured.

“I’m sure that you can destroy quite a lot of it at a time,” Phoebe told him. “Can you not?”

Lycus nodded. “I’ll get it done.”

“Then do so,” Phoebe said. “And leave Ruby Rose to me; she will be helpless once I close the distance with her. Once those two have been eliminated, then, and only then, will we focus our efforts on Pyrrha; in the second stage of the battle, Mal, you will occupy Sunset Shimmer until Pyrrha has been eliminated, then the rest of us will join you. Do you all understand?”

They nodded their assent. That was all she required.

“Good,” Phoebe said. “Very good.”

They’ll never see it coming.

You Got Nothing On Us (Rewritten)

You Got Nothing On Us

This was the beginning of the end.

All Pyrrha's life she had been trained to fight, not just to fight but specifically to fight in tournaments. It might not have always been what she had wanted, it might not have always been the goal that she had envisaged for herself when she had been training under Chiron, but nevertheless it had been what she was training for. It had been the reason why her mother had sent her to train under Chiron, had outfitted her with the finest weapons, had ruthlessly pruned all other interests that she might have pursued. She was a warrior, but she was more than that, she was not just any warrior, she was a champion in the breeding … right up until the moment when she had become a champion.

Her life had revolved around the arena like the moon revolving around Remnant. She had fought within the circle of the Colosseum, and of amphitheatres and arenas up and down Mistral, at local tournaments and festivals and weddings and birthday celebrations, she had had special dispensation to be absent from Sanctum as often as she needed to be; she had fought, and when she had not been fighting she had been training to fight, her eyes always fixed on next year's tournament.

The arena — as an idea, the place of combat, the home of battle, the little world from which the rest of the world fell away completely as though it had never existed — had been as much or more a god to her as any god of Mistral, and she… she had not worshipped it, precisely, but she had been its priestess, it's humble servant, slaving in service to the idea, diligently working for its glory, and being rewarded for her service with glory in her turn.

Much joy that it had brought her. In the service of the arena, as an acolyte of this most demanding of gods, Pyrrha had felt like an actor on a darkened stage, only herself illuminated by the spotlight, watched by all but at the same time … utterly alone. An object of fascination but not companionship, separated from all other men by an invisible wall, observed but not marked. True, it was not only arena glory that had brought that fate upon her, but without it the Nikos name would alone have amounted for little. It would have opened a few doors into splendid rooms, but it would not have made her an object as her triumphs had.

That she was a Princess Without a Crown would have been of little note had she not possessed a champion's laurels on her brow.

No doubt there was someone, somewhere — and when the year began Pyrrha suspected that someone had been very close at hand — who would have loved it: parades, processions, dedications in the Temple of Victory, her name on every tongue. But Pyrrha… there had been times when even the unimpeachable Mistraliad, that font of honour, spoke less to her than the ancient satirists who preached the empty vanity of worldly things: political power, martial glory, oratorical eloquence.

Although I cannot be satisfied with only a healthy body and a healthy mind, Pyrrha thought, with a glance at Jaune where he was getting his gear out of his locker. That, too, might be a rather lonely life.

She did not have a lonely life. Since coming to Beacon it was as though the lights had flipped on, illuminating the whole stage and revealing it to be full of people, to have been full of people this entire time. She was still watched, but it was so much more tolerable than it had been when she had felt alone, singing her heart out to a spotlight that followed her steps and would not let her slink off into the darkness. Since coming to Beacon the demands of the arena-god had seemed less and less oppressive.

And now she was leaving their service completely.

A part of her life was coming to an end. Even if she won every battle between now and the end of the tournament, even if she won the tournament, that would be five matches. Five battles, at most, and a door would close behind her. That for which she would be armed, and trained, would be gone.

Not that there was any force, not even Professor Ozpin, that could stop her from going back, but she did not, would not wish to go back. Having ascended to the highest summit, she wished to leave it all behind.

Yet all the same the prospect filled her with trepidation. A door was closing, and she was flinching from the click of the latch, or the lock.

This had been her life; just as the life of a farmer was dictated by the rhythm of the seasons, the coming of the rain and sun, so too had her life been in large part set by the rhythm of the tournament seasons, the spacing of the festivals throughout the calendar, the times to fight and the times to train.

This had been her life, and soon that life would be over.

It made her apprehensive, and yet at the same time it filled her with excitement.

She already knew some of what came next — three more years here at Beacon, service with Professor Ozpin — but at the same time there was so much that she could not anticipate, so much that would be novel simply by having excised this entire part of her life and all that came with it. How long, after she left the arena, before she faded from the public eye, just another huntress?

It might be a little over-optimistic of her to think that she would ever be completely anonymous, but at the same time she had no doubt that, once she had stepped out of the arena for good, the public eye would cease to find her so interesting, would cease to look for her as it had done. She would become, with good fortune, a memory, a name on a roster of winners past, a name invoked as a kind of commonplace, someone idly recognised without much interest.

And all the while I'll write true deeds into the book of heroes; there is some irony there, but at the same time it is rather wonderful.

"Pyrrha?"

“Oh!” Pyrrha started, suddenly noticing Jaune looking at her. “I’m sorry, did I space out for a moment?”

Jaune grinned. “Kinda, yeah? Got something on your mind?”

“Something like that,” Pyrrha said. She looked around the locker room, at Sunset and Ruby. Everyone was waiting for her. Everyone was here for her. “I was just… I was just thinking about how I spent more than half my life preparing to fight in tournaments, years more actually competing, and in a few days that will all be over.”

“Well, at least you’ll actually get to reach the culmination of all your efforts and your training,” Sunset observed. “Not everyone is so lucky before life takes a turn and everything changes.”

“With good fortune,” Pyrrha murmured, touching her golden honour band with one hand.

“With good fortune, and your skill,” Sunset said. “And my invaluable assistance.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Of course.”

“How do you feel about it?” asked Ruby. “Leaving that part of you behind? Would you ever have maybe decided to carry on with it?”

Pyrrha thought for a moment. “Perhaps,” she admitted. “If… if things hadn’t worked out here, then… it might have been nice to return the comforting embrace of a field which I knew how to navigate. In which I knew how to excel.” She smiled. “Fortunately, it all turned out so much better than that.”

“But you’re still a little nervous, right?” Ruby asked.

“Nervous and excited in equal measure,” Pyrrha confirmed.

“It’s not over yet,” Sunset pointed out. “It may be over in a few days, but we’ve still got those days to get through first.”

“I’m aware,” Pyrrha said. “A few more days in the brightest of limelights.”

“Yay,” Ruby muttered, without much enthusiasm.

Sunset glanced at her, eyebrows rising as a slight, close-mouthed smile pricked up the corners of her mouth. “Nervous?”

“I … wouldn’t say no to having the matches in a dark room somewhere and people could only see it on video afterwards,” Ruby said.

Sunset snorted. “It’s going to be fine,” she said. She paused for a moment. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“I think a lot of people have been waiting for this for a long time,” Jaune said.

“Yeah, probably,” Sunset agreed. “When I first came to Beacon, when I got accepted, I thought that this tournament was going to be my shot. My chance to show what I was capable of. How great I was… how great I thought I was. I thought that this tournament would be my chance to force people to stop disrespecting me, stop treating me … like a faunus. I thought that this tournament would be my chance to be recognised, acknowledged, to become … somebody. I was wrong about that. This tournament wasn’t my shot, it wasn’t my big chance … you were. I may have wanted to win the tournament, but you gave me what I needed instead. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t take this seriously. That doesn’t mean that we can’t go out there and aim to win this whole thing, because while this may be only a tournament, it’s still our big chance to show the world just how awesome we are and I say that we take it!

“I think that we deserve that chance. Not me, but all of us. After all we’ve done, all that we’ve been through, every battle and every trial we deserve not only a break but also some recognition!

“It may not matter whether we win or not but I still say that we go out there and give it our best shot! So let’s go out there and show them all what Team Sapphire is all about.

“And, just as importantly, let’s go out there and have some fun.”

“So,” Terri-Belle said, “here it comes.”

Swift Foot was leaning forward in her seat. “Yeah,” she said, a grin of eager anticipation on her face. “Here it comes. Mistral’s champion takes the stage for the last fight.”

“Former champion,” Terri-Belle corrected her.

“Yeah, right,” Swift Foot muttered. “That’s going to take some getting used to after four years.”

“Mmm,” Terri-Belle said. “Though it will get annoying for Oceana if people don’t at least make an effort to remember.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Swift Foot insisted. “I just forgot, that’s all.”

“I know,” Terri-Belle said softly. “In any case, it is as you say, our former champion taking the stage. And against Mistral’s own Phoebe Kommenos besides.”

Swift Foot snorted. “But does anyone really care about that?”

“Someone must,” Terri-Belle replied. “And we should, if no one else does; Phoebe may not be a favourite of the arena but the Kommenos family could become an important ally once she graduates and returns home.”

“They’re a minor house,” Swift Foot said. “A traitor house imposed upon Mistral by the King of Vale.”

“Yet wealthy still, with an old name,” Terri-Belle said. “And we need all the support we can muster in these trying times. At the very least we should not make needless enemies with mockery and antagonism.”

“But…” Swift Foot hesitated. “But she’s so awful!”

“Shining Light and Blonn-di like her,” Terri-Belle pointed out.

“That’s a mark against her in my book,” Swift Foot muttered.

Terri-Belle didn’t reply to that. There was too much there to get into right now. “In any event, let’s watch the match.” She paused. “It’s unfortunate for Phoebe that she has gotten this match-up. She might have made it into the two on two rounds, but—”

“But now she won’t,” Swift Foot said.

“It is unlikely,” Terri-Belle said diplomatically, although who precisely she was being diplomatic for was a little difficult to say.

Swift Foot tapped her fingertips against her knees. “Do you think that Pyrrha will sweep the competition like Arslan did earlier? Take out all four members of the opposition team by herself?”

“I doubt it,” Terri-Belle said.

“Why not?” Swift Foot asked. “Pyrrha’s as good as Arslan. She’s better, or else how do you explain the fact that Arslan’s never beaten her?”

“It’s not a judgement on their respective quality,” Terri-Belle explained. “That kind of sweep requires two things: first, the person doing the sweeping has to be very good—”

“Which Pyrrha is,” Swift Foot insisted.

“True,” Terri-Belle allowed. “But it also requires that the rest of the sweeper’s team is … not so good, and I’m not at all sure that’s true of Team Sapphire.”

“Do you know them?”

“I know their reputation,” Terri-Belle said. “I know what they are accounted to have done, the actions they have taken part in. And I know that Pyrrha is very defensive of them, she doesn’t like to have them thought of as lesser than her, mere limbs of her greatness. I … talked down to them a little bit, when they were in Mistral — I wasn’t intending rudeness, I was just brusque and a little out of sorts from travelling — and she did not take it well. I think… I think that Pyrrha will not seem to do so well as Arslan has today.”

“That’s disappointing, if you’re right,” Swift Foot muttered.

“The victory is what matters, at this stage,” Terri-Belle countered. “And victories won through teamwork are as valuable as individual heroics; the time for that will come later. For now, the team is all.”

At some point after Arslan’s fight, during the lull without anyone interesting competing, Serena Archer had gone upstairs for a nap. Now Diana nudged her awake.

“Serena! Serena, wake up!”

Serena groaned wordlessly, and turned over.

“Serena!” Diana chided her. “Pyrrha’s about to fight!”

“Wuh?” Serena murmured, opening her eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really, it’s the last fight of the night. Mum’s making dinner for after.”

Serena sat up. “My head hurts. And my mouth feels all funny.” She swallowed, and her face twisted in a pained expression.

“I told you not to go to bed,” Diana reminded her.

“I was tired.”

“You’ll feel better when you come downstairs and watch the fight,” Diana assured her. “Come on, I’ll bet she’ll beat everyone all by herself, just like Arslan did.”

“Do you think so?” asked Serena.

“Of course I do,” Diana replied. “Pyrrha’s at least as good as Arslan, after all.”

“So, you know these people as well, right?” Veil asked. “From Vale?”

“Partly,” Leaf told her. “I know Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose, but I don’t know the other two.”

“Pyrrha Nikos and Jaune Arc?”

“Right, I never met them. Only Sunset and Ruby.”

“So you don’t know the celebrity superstar,” Veil said. “Unlucky.”

“I know two Atlas celebrity superstars,” Leaf pointed out. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Can you ever know too many celebrity superstars?” asked Veil with a grin.

Leaf shrugged. “It depends, I guess. I think if you want to use them to help you out you probably don’t deserve to know any.”

“A surprisingly selfless attitude, from you.”

Leaf frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought you’d want to get ahead, even if it meant leveraging your connections.”

“If that’s who I am then what am I doing here?”

“I mean, you did get the Council to pay you while you looked for a job.”

“That was different,” Leaf protested. “That was… that was different. I was in a bad way and I didn’t have a lot of options back then. I needed help. I wouldn’t go around to Rainbow Dash or Blake and ask them to get me a better job or whatever; I didn’t even ask Sunset to put me in touch with her Atlas friends, she did that on her own.”

“That was nice of her,” Veil observed.

“Not as nice as it was of them to help me out,” Leaf replied. “But… yeah, I guess it was. It was… yeah, it was nice of her. I think… from what Ruby said, she’s kind of overprotective. But it worked out for me this time around.” She paused. “So, which of them is the celebrity superstar? Is it Pyrrha Nikos or Jaune Arc?”

Veil stared at her.

“What?” Leaf asked.

“You don’t know?” Veil said. “You’ve never heard of Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Should I have?”

“She’s on the boxes of that teeth-rotting cereal you like?”

“The Marshmallow Flakes?” Leaf said. “That’s her?”

“You didn’t recognise her when you saw her in the parade?”

“I only saw her from behind,” Leaf pointed out. “Besides, I didn’t think that was a huntress, I thought that was a model on the box or something. Oh, wow. She’s gorgeous.” She thought about telling Veil that she’d had a bit of a crush on the girl on the cereal box, but decided against it for fear of making herself look stupid.

Veil nodded. “She certainly is. Everyone agrees that she could do so much better than her current boyfriend.”

“Who’s he?”

For the second time, Veil looked at her like she was an idiot, or just a country bumpkin. “Jaune Arc, the fourth member of this team, you really don’t pay attention at all, do you?”

“To celebrity gossip, no,” Leaf said, deciding against adding that she had better things to do. “Who is he? This boyfriend? I mean, I know you said he’s the other member of the team, but apart from that? He’s the blond one, right?”

“Yes, that’s right, he is the blond one,” Veil agreed, in an ever-so-slightly patronising tone. “Apart from that, he’s… he’s not much as far as I can tell. He’s just some guy from Vale.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being from Vale,” Leaf said defensively; after all, she was just some girl from Vale herself. “Is he any good as a huntsman?”

Veil shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Yeah,” Leaf murmured. “If she’s all that I wonder what she’s doing with just some guy?”

Veil shrugged. “Maybe the heart really does want what the heart wants?”

“That’s just something people say that doesn’t mean anything,” Leaf said. “She should break up with him.”

Veil’s eyebrows raised. “Harsh?”

“No, harsh is how she’s going to feel about herself in ten or twenty years when she realises that she’s wasted her life with some guy instead of living it to the fullest,” Leaf said. “I broke up with my boyfriend to come here.”

“I thought you snuck away without telling anyone?”

“I think if your girlfriend sneaks away to another kingdom without telling you the breakup is implied, don’t you?” Leaf asked. “The point is that… he was a nice guy, and I liked him, but… he didn’t want anything. He didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything or be anyone, he was content to just live in this same place he grew up in and race bikes and… I wanted more than that. And there comes a time when you have to think about yourself, put yourself first.”

“And that’s fine,” Veil said. “But maybe Pyrrha doesn’t want that? Maybe she doesn’t want to do anything or be anyone either?”

“Maybe,” Leaf acknowledged. “As long as she wants to win this match, I guess.”

“These are the kids who helped you out, right?” asked Norm, the bartender.

“Yeah,” Red agreed. “One of them is some kind of big celebrity, but I’m more interested in what the team leader does.”

“You mean the faunus girl?”

“Yeah, her,” Red said. “She had a lot of spunk. I can’t wait to see her in action.”

"So, to be clear," Saphron said, bouncing Adrian gently up and down on her lap, "Pyrrha has never lost one of these in her life."

"No," Terra said. "I mean, yes, you're correct, Pyrrha's never lost. That's why they call her the Invincible Girl."

Saphron nodded. "And she first won the big Mistralian title when she was ... thirteen?"

"Yes."

Saphron hesitated. "How?"

"By being really good? Don't ask questions that will ruin the magic," Terra instructed her.

Saphron shrugged. "Fine, but... what you're telling me is that she has this in the bag?"

"What I'm telling you is that Pyrrha has never lost a tournament bout."

"So this is going to be boring?"

Terra restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "It's the journey that matters, not the destination. Just because you know the outcome doesn't mean it isn't worth watching how it was arrived at."

“Please, Amber, sit down,” Professor Goodwitch said, a beatific smile upon her face as she gestured to the settee lined up against the wall.

Amber looked around, at the desk, and the sofa, and the table, and the bowl of sweets, the potted plant in the corner, the photographs upon the wall. “I… this place feels familiar, but … I don’t remember it. Have I been here before?”

“Yes,” Professor Goodwitch said, the smile remaining on her face. “Yes, you have. After you… after you first came to this school, after your mother passed away.”

“I see,” Amber murmured.

Professor Goodwitch picked up the bowl of sweets on the desk. “Would you like one?”

Amber hesitated for a moment, before she said, in a soft voice “Yes, alright, thank you.”

She took a step closer, and then another, and reached out to pluck a purple sweet from the bowl. She looked around for a bin as she unwrapped the paper that surrounded the sweet itself.

“Over by the door,” Professor Goodwitch told her.

“Ah, yes,” Amber said, and threw the paper away once she had unwrapped the sweet. She popped it into her mouth; it had a sour taste, but not an unpleasant one. She started chewing on it as she sat down on the sofa by the wall.

“It’s good,” she said, with her mouth half full.

“I should hope so,” Professor Goodwitch replied. She paused a moment. “How are you finding Beacon?”

“I… I like it here,” Amber said. “I like it here a lot. Or … I suppose I should say that I like the people here a lot.”

Professor Goodwitch was still smiling, in fact her smile became a little broader than it had been before. “It’s often the people who make a place what it is, isn’t it? And I think that is doubly so for a school, despite — or perhaps because — the students are never here for very long. Four years at most.” She paused again. “And yet they give a school its character, its … soul, if you will. We teachers like to credit ourselves, and the particularly pompous teachers like to preach about the values of the institution as though bricks and stones could live and speak and pass down instruction, but the truth is that a school is what the students make it. We here at Beacon are fortunate to have very good students, and to the extent that there are what might be called school values they are passed down from one year to the next; but more often the students bring their values with them, but they happen to be, on the whole, very good values.”

“I’m very lucky,” Amber said, “to be surrounded by such good people.”

Good people I will betray.

For their own good, but I’m not sure they’ll see it that way.

They will hate me. They will all of them hate me when or if they learn what I’ve done. Pyrrha, Sunset, Ciel, they will all turn on me and revile me.

Dove will be the only one who will stay by my side; Dove, and maybe Lyra, although I don’t know her as well or like her so much as those who will hate me.

She didn’t want to be hated. Most especially she didn’t want to be hated by her friends.

But whatever she did, or didn’t do, those friends would be torn away from her. Whether by Ozpin’s will or by her own actions she would be sundered from them.

That being so, she… she owed it to them to give them the best chance she could.

This was a kindness, even if it wasn’t a kindness they would understand.

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “Yes,” she said, “yes, they are good people, and you are fortunate.”

“Do you like them?” Amber asked.

Professor Goodwitch hesitated for a moment. “They … are not my favourite students,” she admitted. “But I do not dislike them, certainly. They have virtues that I recognise, and can respect. And I admit that … no one other than Miss Shimmer could have saved you. Without her…”

“Without Sunset I’d be dead,” Amber murmured. “And … my powers would…”

“Best not to think about that,” Professor Goodwitch suggested. “It does no good to dwell on ugly might-have-beens. Miss Shimmer was here, and she saved you, and now you’re here. That is enough.”

“Yes,” Amber murmured. “Yes, that’s quite enough for now, I suppose. Do you think they’ll win? Team Sapphire, I mean. They’re fighting now, aren’t they?”

“The final match of the day has not quite begun,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “But it will shortly, and yes, it will pit Team Sapphire against Atlas’ Team Pastel.”

“And Team Sapphire will win?”

“Perhaps,” Professor Goodwitch murmured.

“Why wouldn’t they?” asked Amber. “People say that Pyrrha is supposed to be very good at this, everyone thinks she’s wonderful. Are this Team Pastel very good as well?”

“They are more competent as a team than some of its members are as individuals,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I am not sure that I would say the same of Team Sapphire. The members of the team are gifted, but I’m not sure that Miss Shimmer… she has yet to convince me that Professor Ozpin made the right choice in making her the leader.”

“Who do you think should lead them?” asked Amber. “Is it Pyrrha?”

Professor Goodwitch shook her head. “I believe that she would be Miss Shimmer’s choice, if anything were to happen to Miss Shimmer herself; she might even be Professor Ozpin’s choice, but she would not be my choice. My choice … having given it some thought, and observation… I believe it should be Mister Arc. He is quiet, true, but conscientious, hard-working, intelligent… in the absence of Miss Shimmer’s voice I believe he would blossom, like a flower removed from the shade and placed in sunlight.”

Amber frowned. “I can’t imagine Jaune being a leader. What’s wrong with Sunset?”

Professor Goodwitch was quiet for a moment. “She relies on miracles,” she said. “Sometimes she gets them, or makes them, as I must admit she did when she saved you, and when that happens it looks very impressive, spectacular even. But you can’t rely on miracles, that’s almost definitional. If you want to avoid consequence, even disaster, then you need hard work, careful planning, forethought… qualities I’m not sure Miss Shimmer possesses. She has the intelligence to possess them, if she wished … or if she could cease to be guided by her heart, but … I think that she will make a mistake as great as any miracle that she has worked, and I don’t relish being around to see it.”

Because you keep putting them in danger, Amber thought. You, and Professor Ozpin, and everyone else. You’re the reason that Sunset needs miracles.

And I’m going to give her one more.

In her box — a private box, naturally, she had purchased every seat present so as to ensure that she was not disturbed; only Hestia was with her, waiting any needs that she might have — Lady Nikos waited for her daughter and her team-mates to arrive in the arena.

She felt such anticipation as she rarely felt any more. Even as she gripped her walking stick tightly between her hands she could feel her arms trembling with an excitement so pronounced that it reminded her of the days when she had been the one competing before the crowds, before injury had put an end to her fighting career. And even though the excitement of the crowd, that low anticipatory hum that would explode into sound the moment Pyrrha appeared before the eyes of the world, was not for her, the fact that it was for her daughter was a decent second best. Especially when Lady Nikos had done so much to shepherd her to this point.

This was Pyrrha’s hour: the hour to stand at the highest pinnacle of martial achievement, the greatest young warrior in all of Remnant.

And being Pyrrha’s hour, it was her hour too, as the mother of a champion, the mother of a great warrior, the mother of one whose like would not be seen in the world again.

Or would it? As much as she had little affection for him as a man, Lady Nikos found her thoughts turning to consider what Pyrrha’s children by Mister Arc might be. He had copious aura, after all; if his children inherited it they would be well blessed.

As heirs to the name of Nikos and all its lands and wealth they would be well-blessed regardless.

There was a chance the Evenstar need not presage the fall of night.

But even if Pyrrha was indeed the last flowering of the skill and valour of the Nikos line or indeed of all of Mistral’s pride and honour … Lady Nikos could be content with that, once she had seen her daughter emerge victorious upon this stage.

She had complete confidence in the outcome of this first match: the Kommenos girl was a mere dilettante, and she had faith in Miss Shimmer to lead Mister Arc and Miss Rose in providing Pyrrha with all the support she might require. She was mainly interested in how well Pyrrha would achieve victory, not in the question of victory itself.

It had crossed her mind that Miss Shimmer might lead the rest of the team in providing a little too much support. It would have been very good if Pyrrha could have matched Arslan Altan’s achievement in defeating all four members of Team PSTL herself, but Pyrrha’s teammates were — a little unfortunately — too good for Lady Nikos to consider that a realistic possibility.

Still, a victory would be a victory; it was a pity that the talk of the taverns of Mistral would be of Arslan Altan’s achievement, but provided Pyrrha was not shown up in this battle, provided that she laid the enemies before her low, then Lady Nikos would be content.

There would be plenty of time for Pyrrha’s light to shine in the subsequent rounds, most especially in the one on ones.

For now, the victory was more important than how it was won.

Lady Nikos had often felt that the arena was a world unto itself, separate and apart from the wider world that surrounded it. How much more true that was here, when the arena was elevated into the skies, raised above Remnant and its troubles. All the ills that had befallen Vale, all her fears for Pyrrha, all her questions … they seemed so meaningless now, and so small. Left behind on the ground with all care.

Here in the sky, in this little world, this O of metal, there was only the impending battle, and the imminent chance to watch her daughter shine.

“I confess that I sometimes feel the need for privacy, but I also find that events like these are often best enjoyed with company.”

Lady Nikos looked up to see Professor Ozpin standing over her. He had crept up on her while she was preoccupied with other thoughts.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Hestia said, “but—”

“Quite alright, Hestia,” Lady Nikos said. “I would not expect you to stand in the way of so eminent a visitor.” She did not rise to her feet; perhaps he would consider that a result of her poor leg. “Professor Ozpin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Ozpin sat down without waiting for an invitation. “Considering that this fight involves some of my most promising students and that one of those students happens to be your daughter it seemed a good time for us to become acquainted, Mrs. Nikos.”

She looked at him. “I have not been called that before.”

“You are not in Mistral any more, to insist upon ancient titles.”

“True, but a more courteous man would offer me courtesy regardless.”

Ozpin chuckled. “Perhaps he would, Lady Nikos, forgive me. I admit that I sometimes find the pride of your ancient kingdom … a trifle pompous.”

“Oh, it is, without a doubt,” Lady Nikos said. “But if we were to lose sight of our traditions what would be left of Mistral? Are there not worse things than a little pomposity?”

“True,” Professor Ozpin said. “Have you sampled many of the delights of the festival?”

“No,” Lady Nikos said. “Too much movement wearies me; I have been watching the matches since they began.”

“And what is your opinion, as a former fighter yourself?”

“Haven has done a little better than expected, Atlas has done a little worse,” Lady Nikos said. So far, only four Atlas teams — RSPT, TTSS, FNKI, and SABR — had won their matches, and she did not believe that Team PSTL would be making it five; Haven also had four teams moving onto the second round — SSSN, ABRN, VLCA, and BALL — but Haven Academy had been starting from a base of far lower expectations. “You must be feeling reasonably proud of yourself, Professor; by the end of this match you will have five teams progressing, the highest of any academy.”

“I try not to prejudge the outcomes of fights that are yet to be fought,” Professor Ozpin said. “Or to judge my colleagues too harshly. If I may, Lady Nikos, the same people who underestimate Professor Lionheart and the calibre of students that Haven is producing under his stewardship are the same who will judge General Ironwood for the perceived poor performance of his students. Both opinions are equally unjust.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Nikos allowed. “And yet a man who has such a puffed out chest as General Ironwood deserves to savour the taste of schadenfreude, it seems to me, and as for Lionheart… he has been lucky. He can hardly claim credit for the talents of Arslan Altan. Just as I do not think you will be allowed to claim credit for the success of Pyrrha which we are about to witness; it will be claimed for Mistral, as it should be.”

“Even though she is my student, and as I have said, a most promising one?”

Lady Nikos shook her head dismissively. “You have a fine reputation, Professor, but I doubt that there is anything you have taught my daughter that she did not already know before she came to you.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ozpin said. “I think that Beacon has taught her teamwork, as we may see in just a little while. All the same you are to be congratulated: you have raised a fine young woman.”

“I have indeed,” Lady Nikos said. “And over the next few days we will see her at her finest.”

“Once again I must disagree with you, my lady; I think Pyrrha has far more to offer Remnant than victory in this little tournament.”

“Little tournament?”

“Prestigious, to be sure,” Ozpin said. “But just a tournament all the same.”

Lady Nikos snorted. “I think that Pyrrha would agree with you, Professor Ozpin.” She paused a moment. “Professor, if we were on the ground I would have a bone to pick with you, regarding the events of this year.”

Professor Ozpin sighed. “Yes, my lady, I can imagine that you would.”

“But we are not on the ground,” Lady Nikos went on. “So, for now, let us leave such matters far below us, and let this … little tournament, and its delights, engage all our interests and our passions.”

“And so, at last, we pass from Canterlot’s favourite onto its prodigal daughter,” Luna observed.

“It seems from what Rainbow told us that Sunset made something of herself at Beacon,” Celestia said. “Just as I thought — and hoped — she might. I’m very glad she found her path in the end.”

Luna glanced toward her elder sister. “And that’s why you’ll be rooting for her and hers, in spite of the fact that it’s an Atlesian team arrayed against them.”

Celestia smiled. “As Beacon alumni ourselves, I feel that we should be allowed to support our old school against our present kingdom on occasion. And after all, isn’t the Vytal Festival meant to be a celebration of unity and peace? What does that mean if we can’t occasionally root for a team beyond our own kingdom?”

Luna smiled in turn, even as she shook her head. “I never understood your soft spot for her.”

“She was lost and lonely.”

“And full of wrath and pride,” Luna added. “I also don’t understand why Ozpin brought her into his organisation.”

“She has changed, by all accounts.”

“All the same, she doesn’t seem like his type.”

“Sometimes it isn’t about the individual,” Celestia said. “Sometimes it’s about the team.”

“You’re thinking about Team Stark,” Luna murmured.

“Indeed,” Celestia said. She and Luna had been recruited as a pair, their two team-mates remaining wholly ignorant of the greater struggle and of the work that Ozpin and his allies did behind the scenes, but Team Stark of course had been recruited as a quartet. “Do you think that Ozpin would ever have approached Raven on her own, if she hadn’t been on a team with Summer, Qrow, and Taiyang?”

“Considering that I never understood why he recruited Raven in any case that’s a hard one for me to answer,” Luna muttered.

“She was valiant, once, and true,” Celestia said, with just a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Was she?” Luna asked. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder.”

“In any case,” Celestia said. “I wouldn’t discount the possibility that Ozpin’s recruitment of Sunset Shimmer was as much to do with her team as with her own qualities: Summer’s daughter, Pyrrha Nikos—”

“This Arc boy of whom no one has ever heard?”

Celestia chuckled. “Not every team can be Team Stark. And who knows, he wouldn’t be the first great huntsman to emerge from obscurity.”

“No,” Luna admitted. “We shall see.”

“I certainly hope so,” Celestia said. She leaned back in her seat. “Show us what you’ve become, Sunset Shimmer.”

“Do we think that this will be a good fight, or a let down in its brevity?” asked Turnus.

Juturna had moved across the sofa so that she was now opposite her brother, with Camilla perched between them, steadfastly refusing to do anything like rest her head on his shoulder or nestle against his side the way that Juturna was doing to Camilla.

Juturna tried to shove Camilla sideways into Turnus, but unfortunately she wasn’t strong enough; Camilla ignored her insistent nudges as though she wasn’t even there.

Juturna said, “I mean, it’s Phoebe, so it’s going to be over quick, but I don’t know if that makes it unsatisfying. It’ll be fun watching her get dumped on her ass no matter how quick it is.”

“That’s a little unkind,” Camilla murmured.

“It’s Phoebe, she deserves unkindness,” Juturna muttered. She had good instincts about people, she could tell when they were good news or bad news, and Phoebe Kommenos was definitely bad news.

Juturna leaned forwards, looking past and around Camilla to get a better look at her brother. “What do you think?”

“Phoebe’s team may elevate her,” Turnus said. “I don’t know them, so I can’t say.”

“Pyrrha’s got a good team as well,” Juturna said, forced into defending Pyrrha of all people because the alternative was Phoebe Kommenos. “There’s Ruby, and Pyrrha’s Camilla—”

“Her name is Sunset Shimmer,” Camilla said quietly.

“Yeah, her, and … that guy,” Juturna finished.

“Jaune Arc,” Turnus said. “Yes, true they… I imagine they work well together. Still, with eight combatants on the field a great deal can—” His scroll went off, interrupting whatever he might have said.

“Why do you have that on?” Juturna asked.

“Because it might be important,” Turnus said, as he got up off the sofa. “Excuse me a moment.”

“Of course, my lord,” Camilla whispered.

“Hurry back,” Juturna instructed him.

Turnus didn’t respond to his sister, rather he fished his scroll out of his trouser pocket as he left the sitting room, stepping out into the corridor beyond and shutting the door behind him.

He opened up his scroll and was surprised to find that it was Phoebe Kommenos calling, as though she had known that she was being talked about.

Nevertheless, despite his surprise, he answered.

“Phoebe,” Turnus said. “I would have expected you to be getting ready for your upcoming match.”

Phoebe Kommenos looked tired, honestly; there was darkness beneath her eyes that makeup could not wholly disguise, though it was making a gallant effort. Despite that tiredness however, she smiled at him. “Are you watching?” she asked. “Will you be watching?”

“Of course,” Turnus said. “How could I not? Is there anyone in Mistral who is not watching?”

“No,” Phoebe murmured. “No I suppose not, but… all of Mistral is watching, of course. Watching to see her. Watching to see her triumph over me.”

Turnus said nothing. When old Lady Kommenos had died in that awful fire he had reached out to Phoebe; he knew what it was like to lose a parent too young, to be forced to assume the responsibilities not only of adulthood but of lordship, the burdens of a great old family. He had helped with the funeral arrangements, all the paperwork, that sort of thing. Their relationship had soured after she had suggested he should get rid of Camilla, and they had very rarely spoken after she went back to Atlas, but nevertheless he had little desire to be cruel to her.

And yet there was nothing to say in response, because she spoke the truth, unpalatable though it might be for her.

So he kept silent.

“I… I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing,” Phoebe said, “going back to Atlas after Mother and Philonoe died. Perhaps I should have done what you did, stayed home in Mistral, taken up my duties.”

“I didn’t have a choice about going back to Atlas,” Turnus reminded her.

“No, but…” Phoebe paused for a moment. “I sometimes wonder if I might have been happier there than here.”

“What would you have done?” Turnus asked.

“I … don’t know,” Phoebe admitted. “But I could have done anything, anything I wanted. That’s the wonderful thing about being rich, isn’t it? There are no limits.”

“There will be plenty of time for you to do whatever you like after graduation,” Turnus told her. “And if you’d dropped out you would have missed the Vytal Festival.”

“Yes,” Phoebe acknowledged. “Yes, I would. I would have missed this chance.” The sadness, the weariness seemed to fall from her face, like a cape shrugged off her shoulders. “I will defeat her,” she declared. “This time, this last time, I will win out. I have planned and prepared, my team is ready. I will win. And when I do, will… will Mistral think better of me?”

“If you defeat Pyrrha Nikos then your name will resound throughout the streets of Mistral, beyond doubt,” Turnus said.

“And you?” Phoebe asked.

“I … will be very impressed, to be sure,” Turnus replied.

“Very impressed,” Phoebe whispered. “Yes, of course. Everyone will be impressed. They will have no choice but to be impressed. Then watch me, Turnus, Lord Rutulus, for I shall give you reason to be impressed, without a doubt.” She paused. “And now I must go. I have a battle to win, after all.” She hung up.

A frown creased Turnus’ brow, and remained on his face as he opened the door and walked back into the sitting room.

“Trouble, my lord?” Camilla asked. “A client?”

“No,” he assured her. “No, it was… it was Phoebe Kommenos. She wanted… I’m not sure what she wanted.”

“I can guess,” Juturna muttered.

“What did you say to her?” asked Camilla.

“Very little, and less of substance,” said Turnus. “I told her the truth, that if she wins this fight then Mistral will talk of nothing else.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Juturna said with a contemptuous snort.

Turnus leaned forward to look at her. “You never liked her, did you?”

“Was there ever anything to like?” Juturna responded.

“Lady Kommenos is well born,” Camilla said quietly. “But I… with respect, my lord, I fear that if she obtained your hand she would not treat Juturna as she deserves.”

“Really?” Turnus said. “I wasn’t aware of that. I did know that she wouldn’t have treated you as you deserve.”

“I hardly count, my lord.”

“I disagree, vehemently,” Turnus said, and as he sat down he put one arm around her shoulders. “And that is why I would never have married her, or ever will.”

Camilla was silent for a moment, and still. Her voice, when it came, was as soft as melting chocolate. “Thank you, my lord.” She paused. “I hope for an enjoyable match.”

“I don’t,” Juturna said. “I hope for one that’s over in a flash.”

“Yo! Atlas!” Arslan called out, waving with one hand as she walked down the rows of seats in the cordoned off contestants’ part of the stands, with Reese trailing a step behind her. They walked along the very edge of the stands, where there was a forcefield — invisible at the moment, until or unless it was struck by something — to protect the crowds from any stray bullets or explosives that might be unleashed in the battle, as well as a more conventional barrier which wouldn’t stop a huntsman or huntress from vaulting over it, but would keep most normal people from getting down onto the battlefield. They walked to join Teams RSPT and YRBN where they sat in front row seats, some of them — Nora Valkyrie in particular — leaning against the barriers in front of them.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Arslan went on. She looked at Team YRBN. “I’m a little more surprised to see you here, though.”

“My sister’s on Team Sapphire?” Yang reminded her.

Arslan blinked twice. “Right. Yes. It’s a little hard to keep track of everything. I remember that Team Rosepetal are P-money’s Atlas friends, but other than that… sorry.”

She gestured to two seats next to Yang, who sat at the very edge of the group. “Are those seats free?”

Yang shrugged. “Knock yourselves out,” she said. She looked at Reese, and said, “You’re one of Arslan’s teammates, right? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t,” Reese said. “I’m Reese, Reese Chloris, at your service.”

“Yang Xiao Long,” Yang said. “These are my teammates Blake Belladonna, Lie Ren, and Nora Valkyrie, and these are the members of Team Rosepetal of Atlas: Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle.”

“Salutations,” Penny said.

Reese waved. “Hey. A pleasure to meet you all.”

“Your team don’t usually show up,” Rainbow remarked. “I’m surprised to see one of them.”

“No true Mistralian would miss seeing Mistral’s champion in action,” Reese declared.

“Pyrrha’s not actually the champion anymore,” Arslan muttered as she sat down.

Reese frowned. “She isn’t? Really?”

“No, she didn’t defend her title this year,” Arslan said. “Otherwise you would have noticed her being gone back to Mistral.”

Yang grinned. “Isn’t that something that a true Mistralian ought to know?”

Reese sighed. “Probably,” she admitted. “But… well, I’m actually from Mantle, but I’ve got the heart of a Mistralian. Or at least I’d like to have.”

“Because you feel more at home in Mistral than you do in the place where you were born, right?” Penny asked.

Reese nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, exactly. Mantle is filthy and it smells and nobody cares about anyone else, even their own neighbours. Mistral… Mistral is bright and beautiful and the White Tower shines like a spear piercing the heavens, and everyone… I love it. I love everything about it.”

“That’s cause you haven’t seen half of it,” Arslan said. “Don’t get me wrong, I like Mistral well enough, I wouldn’t leave her for anything, but I’ve told you before that you shouldn’t go putting her on a pedestal until you’ve seen the lower slopes. If you want to make a place your home then you need to see its flaws as well as its virtues.”

“I’ve grown up in flaws,” Reese replied. “I’m sick of flaws.”

“Then why don’t you just move to Atlas?” Yang asked. “They pretend that it’s got no flaws all the time, right?” she grinned at Blake.

Blake shook her head, while Rainbow Dash let out an obviously false laugh.

“We do not pretend that Atlas doesn’t have any flaws,” Rainbow insisted. “We’re just honest about the fact that it has fewer than anywhere else.”

“In Atlas, I’d always be from Mantle,” Reese said. “In Mistral, it doesn’t matter whether I’m from Atlas or Mantle; I’m a foreigner, but I get the same chances either way: I can stay the Atlesian, and that’s fine, or I can try and become more Mistralian, and that’s fine too. Either way, nobody holds Mantle against me.”

“Mmm,” Ciel murmured wordlessly, pursing her lips together.

Arslan wondered idly if it was the same in Atlas, if someone from the lower slopes who went to Atlas Academy was treated the same as some old blood like Phoebe Kommenos, in a way that they wouldn’t have been treated the same if they both went to Haven. It didn’t seem likely to her, but then what Reese was talking about probably didn’t seem all that likely to the Atlesians either.

“And you’ve chosen to integrate,” Blake said. “Which is why you’re here, watching this match, being more of a true Mistralian than your Mistralian teammates who aren’t here, watching the match.”

“Bolin’s watching,” Reese explained. “He just didn’t want to watch with us. He’s watching on a screen in the fairgrounds with some old buddies of his.”

Reese didn’t mention that Nadir wasn’t watching, and Arslan didn’t bring it up either. If the others got the inference then good for them, but she wasn’t going to make it explicit for them.

“Anyway,” Nora said, “this should be a pretty cool match, right?”

“I don’t know,” Arslan said.

Yang looked at her. “If you don’t know then why are you here?”

“Because it’s my duty to support a fellow gladiator,” Arslan said. “But I don’t expect Phoebe to put up much of a fight against Pyrrha, she never has before. It’s not exciting watching one person effortlessly tear another up one side and down the other.”

“Don’t underestimate Team Pastel,” Rainbow said. “I know that Team Sapphire aren’t, they pulled me into their planning session.”

“They had a planning session?” Reese asked.

Rainbow looked at her. “Yeah; they already know how they’re going to play this fight.”

“How?” asked Arslan.

“If I told you you wouldn’t need to watch the match, would you?” Rainbow asked. “The point is that Team Sapphire isn’t taking this fight lightly, and we shouldn’t either. They’ve still got everything to play for here.”

“This is it, huh?” said the bartender at the Crow Bar. “Last match of the day.”

“Yup,” Qrow said. “Finally.” He drained his glass and put it down on the bar. “Another.”

“Are you sure—”

“Another,” Qrow repeated.

“Okay,” the bartender said, reaching under the counter for the whiskey bottle. “So, you glad for the first day to be over or something?”

“What?” Qrow asked. “Why…” he realised that what he’d said could have been taken that way. “No, no, I… I’ve just been waiting for this fight, that’s all. One of my nieces is on the Beacon team.”

“Really? Lucky you, man.”

Qrow snorted. “Don’t talk to me about luck.”

The bartender frowned for a second as he poured Qrow another drink. “Are you able to see straight enough to point your niece out to be me?”

“Am I able to see straight, what are you talking about?” Qrow demanded. “I can see both of you plain as day!”

The bartender’s eyebrows rose. “Uh—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Qrow assured him, before the guy decided to kick him out for his own safety. “I’m fine. I wouldn’t get myself cross-eyed and miss my niece’s match, I’m not that bad of an uncle. I’ve got a liver like a dialysis machine, I could drink twice as much as this and not even feel it.” He reached out and grabbed the new drink that had just been poured for him. “Thanks,” he added, raising his glass to the bartender before he took a healthy drink.

“No, sir,” he said, “I wouldn’t miss this for the whole world.”

I just wish that Summer could be here to see it too.

“So,” Emerald said, “I guess, I mean, I suppose that there’s no great mystery as to who you’re rooting for, h— is there?”

Emerald, in this you have no idea, Cinder thought.

She did not lean forward, that would have set a terrible example for Emerald in posture, but she had shuffled forward on her chair slightly, as far forward as she dared.

You had better win, Sunset.

I will be terribly disappointed in you if you don’t win.

And you, Pyrrha… if you can defeat me but not Phoebe then… I would be enraged and ashamed in equal measure.

I would have to kill you sooner rather than later just to get some semblance of self-respect back.

You have to win.

You have to crush her.

“Who do you think I want to win?” Cinder asked softly.

“Team Sapphire, of course,” Emerald said. “You wouldn’t want to be…”

“You may speak,” Cinder said.

Emerald swallowed. “You wouldn’t want to be diminished by anyone defeating the person who defeated you.”

Cinder was silent for a moment, before a smirk crossed her features. “Well done, Emerald.” It seems I underestimated you.

Emerald smiled. “You’ve taught me well, Cinder.”

Evidently.

Although I don’t just want Team Sapphire to win.

I want Team Pastel to be crushed. I want Phoebe to be utterly humiliated. I want her to be left broken and weeping in the middle of the battlefield, I want her to be humiliated before the eyes of the whole of Remnant.

If she were to suffer an accident that would cripple her I would not take it amiss, Sunset.

Just don’t kill her. I want that pleasure for myself.

But, apart from that, stopping short of that, do as you will.

Better yet, do as I would. Pay her back for all the humiliation that she visited on me.

Make me proud, Sunset, I beseech you.

No woman can shun her destiny.

Those were the words etched into the interior of Phoebe’s honour band, the armband of gold that sat upon her left arm and gleamed dully in the little light coming into the tunnel from without.

It had been given to her by her mother, when she left for Atlas; somewhat late in the day, but then… Phoebe hadn’t earned it until that point. It wasn’t until she was leaving, setting out on her journey, that she deserved this gift, this parting gift: the band of gold, embossed with the six-pointed star of the House of Kommenos, and set with rubies that blazed like fire.

Like the fire that had consumed her home and her family.

And the words engraved within.

They were from The Mistraliad, of course, that font of wisdom, although not a direct quote. The true quotation read ‘No woman or man born, coward or brave, can shun her destiny’ but that would have been rather a lot to fit on the inside of her honour band; the letters were very small as things stood.

And she had captured the essence, at least.

No one could escape their destiny.

That was a comforting thought at times, and a fearful one at others; if she had only known her destiny then she would have known whether to be comforted or fearful.

Today, as she waited in the tunnel, she was comforted.

She would take her enemies by surprise and scatter them.

And you too, Pyrrha, you cannot escape your destiny either.

She was resplendent in her panoply of war, she was a prince of old, she was a Mistralian warrior, she was…

She was a Kommenos, as Achates had been, one who would redeem the honour of her family after it had been cast into disgrace by the treachery of Ilioneus.

She was a Kommenos, and she would restore the honour of her house.

Phoebe had her helmet off, but now she raised it over her head, the tall crest of crimson horsehair touching the ceiling of the tunnel.

If I have a destiny, then I will triumph today, upon the last day.

I will triumph today or I am nothing.

Mother, Philonoe, watch me.

Phoebe breathed in deeply, in and out, her chest rising and falling beneath her cuirass.

The cheers of the crowd outside were not for her, she knew; but if she won, if she triumphed, then they would be.

“Let’s go,” she commanded, as she lead her team out into the light.

Tyche Agathe.

Those were the words engraved on the inside of Pyrrha’s honour band. They meant ‘with good fortune’.

With good fortune we will win. With good fortune my mother will be pleased. With good fortune I will give a good account of myself.

With good fortune I will leave this life behind, and go on to an even better and more satisfying one to come.

With good fortune, I will have all that I desire and all that I wish for will come true.

An arrogant wish, to be sure, but as I have come to acknowledge I am … a little arrogant.

I am proud of my skills, and though I acknowledge the flaw I also do not disdain it as wholly a flaw. Rather I say that I have good reason for a little pride.

Or why else should I fight here, in this tournament?

I fight for Beacon, I fight for my teammates, I fight for my mother, I fight for Sunset, I fight for the pride and honour of Mistral.

But I also fight for myself, because I wish to prove myself the best in this arena, the last and greatest arena.

I wish to plant my flag upon the highest summit before I descend the mountain never to return.

And with good fortune, I shall.

Team SAPR waited in the tunnel, waited to emerge, waited for Sunset to lead them out. Their team leader stood in the mouth of the tunnel, her back to the others, half in the light that spilled in from without. Her rifle was slung across her shoulder, Soteria was across her back, and Sunset’s tail twitched back and forth in anticipation as she waited for the moment.

Jaune was behind her, a little pale of face.

Pyrrha reached out, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Are you alright, Jaune?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah,” Jaune said again. “I just… my parents are watching. And Saphron, and… it’s the only time they’re going to see me in action.”

“Is that not a good thing?” Sunset asked, half turning her head, but not completely looking over her shoulder. “Is that not a thing to make your heart swell with pride?”

“No,” Jaune admitted. “No, it… this is the one time they’re going to see me. What if… what if I mess up? What if they see me and think I’m the same useless—”

“They won’t,” Pyrrha told him.

“But what if—”

“They won’t,” Pyrrha repeated. “You have grown so much, Jaune, you’ve come so far; and your parents and your sisters will see that, just as I have.” She embraced him, putting her arms around him, pulling him close so that she could feel the cold metal of his breastplate against her skin. “It’s going to be fine, Jaune,” she whispered. “I promise. You have faced worse than crowds and Team Pastel.”

“I know,” Jaune whispered back, as he put his arms around her in turn. “But my family wasn’t watching me while I did it.”

Pyrrha laughed lightly, and kissed him on the cheek. “They will be proud of you,” she said, “I guarantee it.”

“You should think yourself fortunate,” Sunset said, still not wholly looking back. “To have such concerns, I mean. At least those who love you can watch you. I think that you are blessed in that.”

Pyrrha stepped back from Jaune, releasing him from her embrace. “Do you wish that your princess could see you fight?”

“Not entirely, I fear that she would not approve of fighting,” Sunset murmured. “But, at the same time… I wish that, this one occasion where what I do is for display, that Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight both could witness it. Merely telling them what happened… I fear it will be cold, and words will not do it justice. If they could see me, just once… I would count myself well blessed.”

“Then I regret it is beyond my power,” Pyrrha murmured. “How do you feel else?”

Sunset paused. “Are you asking me if I’m nervous?”

“Are you?” asked Pyrrha.

“No,” Sunset said. “In this I have no fears at all. I only wish that Princess Celestia could see me win.” She turned a little back towards the rest of the team. “What about you, Ruby?”

Ruby’s answer was not words, but the fact that her hood was up, and her back was a little bent.

Pyrrha smiled, softly and, she hoped, sympathetically. “It will be alright, Ruby,” she said.

“It sounds like there are so many people out there,” Ruby murmured.

Indeed, the crowd beyond, the crowd above, was making a great deal of noise already, and they hadn’t even shown themselves yet.

“Three lions on a shield!

Jewels remain, still gleaming!”

That song is technically about Haven, not Mistral, but never mind.

“Don’t worry about them, Ruby,” Pyrrha instructed her. “Just … put them from your mind. The crowd doesn’t matter. What they’re saying, what they’re cheering, it doesn’t matter. Only the battle matters, us and our opponents.”

Ruby looked at her. “But how do you ignore the crowd? They’re right there, screaming.”

“Actually, it becomes very easy once the fighting starts,” Pyrrha told her. “Once the match gets underway you’ll find there’s really no time to think about anything else. There is only the fighting. Or at least there should be, unless you want to get distracted and make a mistake at the worst possible time.”

Pyrrha had known some fighters who played to the crowds overtly, grandstanding for them, acknowledging their cheers and their applause. Pyrrha had never failed to make them pay for taking their lapses of concentration.

Ruby sighed. “I guess that’s okay,” she said. “I know you’re used to this, but didn’t it make you nervous the first time, hearing such a huge crowd like that, cheering and singing?”

“Maybe they had less to cheer the first time,” Sunset suggested. “They didn’t know what they were about to get.”

“That’s true,” Pyrrha said, a touch of amusement in her voice. “But the most important thing to remember, the most important lesson that Chiron taught me around tournaments, is that the crowd has no power. Whether you are loved or hated, cheered or booed, none of it, like so much surrounding tournaments, really matters. It cannot make you less skilled, or more, it cannot carry you to victory or cast you down to defeat. In the arena, as in the field, skill is the only real measure. Skill, and courage, I suppose. And we have that in abundance, no?”

Ruby reached up, and threw back her hood. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we do.”

“You’re getting good at this,” Sunset observed.

Pyrrha laughed lightly. “I had a very good teacher.”

Sunset didn’t respond to that, except with the very slightest turning up of one side of her mouth as she said, “Is everyone ready?”

Jaune rolled his shoulders. “Ready.”

“Ready,” Ruby agreed.

“And I’m ready too,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset smiled more fully now, a fierce smile, and full of anticipation. “Then let’s not keep them waiting any longer,” she said, as she led them out of the tunnel and onto the battlefield.

Sunset was the first one out, her eyes squinting at first she stepped from the shadows of the tunnel into the bright sunlight that bathed the battlefield.

The applause of the crowd was a deluge down upon her ears, cheers like rain descending, drowning out the sound of her own footfalls upon the white metal that, for now, formed the surface of the Colosseum; still more did it drown out the footfalls of her teammates behind her.

With four ears, Sunset could hear that not everyone was cheering; there were few boos, the remains of Phoebe's — or probably, most likely Phoebe's — work in spreading those rumours about Pyrrha and her connection to Cinder.

Fortunately, they were far outnumbered by the cheering.

"Team Sapphire of Beacon!" Professor Port declared, and the many cheers and the small number of boos and jeers alike were redoubled, the vast crowds that thronged the arena discovering some reserve of passion in their throats that they had been holding back until now. The singing had mostly died down now, the words converted to more wordless expressions of enthusiasm.

Pyrrha was probably right to say that they would swiftly take no notice of it once the fighting began, but at the same time, for now, Sunset was glad of it. It had been a long time since… well, in truth, she had never been received by a crowd like this, not ever, not even in Canterlot. In Canterlot there had never been occasion for her to be received by a crowd like this, so rapturously and with such adoration.

It is a little unfair that only pegasi get the chance to bask in the glow of the crowd's love like this, back in Equestria, Sunset thought. Flying is all very well and good if you have the wings for it, but where are our magic contests, where are our showcases, where are the opportunities for unicorns to bask in acclaim?

Although Pyrrha would tell me they are well off out of it. Nevertheless, it would be good to have the opportunity.

Sunset herself… she had told herself that the tournament had become less important to her, she had told herself that her ardour for glory had faded, and she had not lied to herself, intentionally or otherwise; nevertheless, as she walked out onto field of white metal, as she led her team towards the central hexagon, as she could see herself on the screens mounted a four points around the ceiling of the arena, as the applause and the cheering fell upon her, as all of that happened Sunset could not keep the smile off her face.

She would have waved, but she had just about enough self-awareness left to know that they were not cheering for her.

"Team Pastel of Atlas!" Professor Port said, and Sunset told herself that she heard no noticeable uptick in the volume of the cheering as their opponents made their way out.

Like SAPR, they advanced in single file, with Phoebe Kommenos in the lead. Her face was concealed beneath a black helmet with a tall crest of Mistralian green that added another foot to her height — and she was more or less of a height with Pyrrha even without it. Her cuirass, too, was black, the metal painted over so that it reflected no light. All her armour — the vambraces on her arms, the greaves upon her feet, were black; the splashes of colour came from the gleaming gold armband, set with rubies, that she wore upon her left arm, and the fiery orange skirt she wore that covered her thighs from view.

And the purple stones set in her vambraces that Sunset thought might be gravity dust crystals.

Upon her back was slung a spear, and a rectangular tower shield perhaps two thirds as tall as she was.

Her teammates followed after her: Mal Sapphire was small, with her hood raised to hide her head and her knuckles white as she gripped a staff which had been made to look like wood, gnarly and a little bent at the top, even if it was not; Thorn Hubert's was a large man with a flat face, his features firm but at the same time somewhat brutish to Sunset's eyes, like a human anvil, or a person fashioned more from wood or stone than flesh; Lycus Silvermane, on the other hand, was all angles, sharp cheeks, sharp jaw, it was a wonder that he didn't cut himself.

They were both big men, and Phoebe was not small either; Sunset wondered if that alone was ever enough to intimidate anyone.

The two teams reached the central hexagon and lined up, facing one another. Sunset, on the right of her own line, faced Lycus, the L of Team PSTL, while Phoebe was facing Ruby.

Phoebe laughed, that high-pitched and ever-so-fake sounding laugh that grated on Sunset's ears. "Why, Pyrrha," she said, "I'm surprised that we're meeting like this so soon."

"This is the only way you'd get a chance to meet Pyrrha in this tournament," Sunset growled. "Tell me, Phoebe, do you wish you could pay someone to fight this match for you?"

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, "that is unnecessary. I look forward to facing you again, Lady Kommenos."

Phoebe's face was hidden beneath her helmet, but her voice seemed a little lower, and a little tighter, as she said, "As do I. I understand that you're retiring after this tournament is over."

"That's correct, yes," Pyrrha said. "I'm going to devote myself wholly to being a huntress."

"How very noble of you," Phoebe said. "I suppose that I'll just have to make this count, won't I?"

On the edges of the four quadrants of the arena the images appeared, the brightly coloured indicators of the possible biomes whirling around and around, one picture replacing another, the rotation going faster and faster until, with a beeping sound, the images stopped moving.

Behind Team PSTL, the image was of a mountain; behind Team SAPR… Sunset wasn't entirely sure, a lot of black lines upon a purple background.

"Oho! The gravity biome!" Professor Port said, as the floor of the arena around the central hexagon opened up. Behind Team PSTL arose a tall grey mountain, surrounded by grass and a few rocky outcroppings which might serve as cover. Behind Team SAPR, on the other hand, arose something that looked… Sunset wasn't quite sure how to describe it, it was a series of black platforms and columns, with some things that looked like children's play blocks but giant sized, squared in comparison to the rectangular platforms and pillars. They were all black, and all surrounded on the long sides by lights, some of them white and others purple; they were arranged higgledy-piggledy, it didn't look possible to jump between them unless you could run vertically up some of the columns.

Although if you could, then you would have a very high vantage point indeed.

"Yes, this is the first time that this biome has made its appearance so far in the tournament!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "For those of you for whom this is your first Vytal Tournament, allow us to provide a little explanation: each of those platforms and pillars that you see has been infused with gravity dust; when the lights surrounding the platforms are white, the gravity dust has been activated and the platforms exert a pulling effect which will allow students to run up vertical surface or stand upside down on the reverse of platforms — but they should beware! Once the lights turn from white to purple the gravity dust is deactivated and the effect ends, so mind your surroundings! And watch your step!"

"Possibly the most interesting biome used here at the Amity Colisseum," Professor Port said. "I'm looking forward to this match already."

You and everyone else, Professor, Sunset thought.

"Three!" Doctor Oobleck cried.

Jaune drew his sword and unfurled his shield; Crescent Rose unfolded with a series of clanks and hisses; Pyrrha drew Miló and Akoúo̱ across her shoulders; Sunset unshouldered Sol Invictus.

"Two!" Professor Port boomed.

Team PSTL mirrored Team SAPR's actions: Phoebe drew her own shield and spear; Lycus drew the two sickles from his belt; Thorn pulled his bow from across his back and grabbed an arrow from the quiver at his hip; Mal seemed to tighten her grip on her staff, which Sunset wouldn't have thought possible.

"One! Begin!" Doctor Oobleck shouted.

A blaring klaxon sound signalled the beginning of the battle. Ruby darted backwards, trailing rosepetals along the metal surface after her as she ran towards the elevated gravity platforms. Pyrrha surged forward, Jaune two steps behind, as Phoebe gave ground before her, retreating into the grass on Team PSTL's side of the field. Mal, too, and Lycus, they were all retreating in the face of Pyrrha's advance. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, taking aim at Lycus Silvermane — until she noticed Thorn Hubert had nocked an arrow and was drawing on her.

She snapped off a shot, hitting him and knocking him down, flat on his backside on the metal of the central hexagon. Sunset's finger was already squeezing the trigger again when a great gust of air struck her with all the force of an invisible punch, lifting her up off the ground and dumping her, in turn, onto her tail, her rifle slipping from her grasp and skidding a few feet across the floor.

The blast, Sunset saw, had come from Mal Sapphire, whose black cloak was now ablaze with fire, green fire — Sunset wondered how she was achieving the effect, when fire dust exclusively burned yellow no matter how hot it got — the flames leaping up from all across her back, and who was pointing her staff in Sunset's direction.

Sunset telekinetically summoned her rifle back into her hands, but as she did so Mal turned her attention to Pyrrha and Jaune, unleashing another gust of wind in their direction.

Pyrrha avoided it, leaping away, rolling across the grass of Team PSTL's half of the battlefield in the direction of Sunset, but Jaune was less fortunate; more heavy-footed than Pyrrha, he was hurled back out of the mountainous biome and into the central hexagon once again.

Pyrrha rolled onto her knees, Miló shifting smoothly from spear to rifle mode as she and Sunset both fired at Mal. Her green flames did not protect her from bullets and down she went, setting some of the grass aflame — although not so much that it looked as though it would spread.

But Thorn had regained his feet by now and began to loose arrows in Pyrrha's direction, his arm a blur as shaft after shaft left his bow, arrows which burst in the air like rockets, blossoming flowers of fire that illuminated Pyrrha's gilded armour as she danced nimbly to avoid them.

Sunset shot him again, and down he went again, but not before Mal had scrambled to her feet. She swept her staff before her in a wide arc, and as she swept it a wall of ice, fifteen or twenty feet high, appeared in front of her, spreading out across the battlefield, splitting it in two wherever the ice wall rose. Mal disappeared from view on one side of it, and so did Lycus, and Phoebe.

And Jaune.

Phoebe isn't going for Pyrrha at all, she's trying to pin her down while she takes out Jaune first. She must be worried by his semblance.

Well played. Rainbow was right about you.

Sunset dropped Sol Invictus, the rifle clattering to the ground, as she raised her hands to conjure up a shield in front of Pyrrha and herself, a green barrier against which Thorn's arrows struck or even exploded harmlessly; Sunset could feel the explosions against the magic through her connection to the shield, but she felt no risk of the shield breaking.

Especially since she wasn't going to keep it up for very long.

"Pyrrha!" she shouted. "Go to Jaune, I'll handle things here."

Pyrrha nodded wordlessly, and — secure behind Sunset's shield — she threw her own, rather more solid shield against the ice wall that Mal had conjured up. It did not break the ice, but Akouo did lodge itself in the midst of the spiky ice, eight or nine feet up, maybe more. Pyrrha ran towards the ice wall, leaping up, effortlessly grabbing her shield and pulling herself up onto it, using it as a springboard — one which she grabbed on the way — as she vaulted the rest of the way over the ice wall, red hair and red sash alike flying, streaming out behind her as she disappeared down on the other side of the ice.

Thorn scowled, his glance flickering between Sunset behind her shield and where Pyrrha had just vanished over the wall.

Sunset dropped the shield, grabbed Sol Invictus off the floor, and teleported right up into his face.

Thorn's eyes widened.

Sunset swung the butt of her rifle into his gut. Thorn let out an off as he doubled over, staggering back a step. Sunset hit him again, swinging the wooden stock of the rifle up into his jaw and making his head snap around. She reversed her grip on her rifle and swung it downwards for the top of his head.

He caught it with one hand, his meaty fist closed around the gun.

Sunset let go with one hand, an emerald bolt of magic erupting from her palm to strike him in the chest and throw him backwards.

She held her palm towards him, the glow of magic surrounding it as she prepared to hit him again.

He locked eyes with her.

Sunset felt a pricking sensation in her eyes, a stabbing pain like pins and needles in her hands, a tightening in her chest.

And Adam appeared before her eyes.

The world was black, the sky was red, the arena and the mountain and the crowds and all else in the world melted away and there was only Adam Taurus, a black figure with a blood red sword, bearing down on her.

She was in Mountain Glenn, the sun had failed and the moon was dead, dead as the city that surrounded her, dead as the old bones that littered this place, dead, dead, dead.

She was on the train, that awful train, rushing down the rails towards Vale, the thump, thump, thump of the train as it rattled along echoing in her ears.

She was on the train, she was in Mountain Glenn, Adam was there, Merlot’s deathstalker was poised to bring its stinger down upon her, she was everywhere, everywhere that she feared to, facing those that she feared.

Sunset staggered backwards, her hand falling to her side, her eyes wide; she gasped for breath, her chest strained against her sun-emblazoned cuirass, she wanted to tear it off, but… but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move her hands, she could barely feel them at all. She felt cold, so very cold, as cold as the dead city that filled her mind, the chill of the underground biting her bones through her aura. She trembled like a leaf, even as her legs became as rooted to the spot as an old tree that is torn up by the storm because it is too rigid now to bend.

She could barely see Thorn; the wall of ice she could not see at all. Amity Colosseum, the Vytal Tournament, all of it had fallen away. She was in a world of her own now; a dark world, and terrible.

And she couldn’t breathe.

Ruby ran backwards as the fight started. She heard Sol Invictus bark, but she didn’t hear the sounds of any swords clashing, which surprised her a little bit, surprised her enough to make her look over her shoulder and see that most of Team PSTL was retreating away from Pyrrha and Jaune.

That was … probably not good, actually. It meant they were likely up to something.

But she’d have a better chance of spotting what it was if she got up higher than the ground.

Ruby left the central hexagon in a burst of rose petals, slowing down as she passed beneath the first of the elevated gravity dust platforms.

Ruby was inclined to agree with Professor Port: the gravity biome was pretty cool. It was like a videogame, with all of the platforms to jump and run along, only without any barrels or irate gorillas trying to hit you as you did so — only irate opponents, possibly, if any of them penetrated deeply enough into Team SAPR’s side of the battlefield.

Ruby leapt up onto the first, lowest platform — or at least she tried to leap up onto it, but kind of misjudged how strong the gravity effects were and ended up on the underside of said platform, stuck to it by the soles of her feet, standing upside down like a sleeping bat with her falling down towards the ground and Ruby herself getting a little bit of a headrush. Fortunately the gravitational effects, although sufficient to keep her from falling, were not so great that she couldn’t move around pretty freely, and certainly weren’t enough to stop her from getting right side-up in short order.

She stood on the lowest platform, with a small pillar before her leading to another, higher platform, and a block on her right, what would be closer to the back of the battlefield.

Ruby chose to go forwards, running along the platform, noticing the lights turn from white to purple but, thanks to being topside, not being effected by it, although she did note that the colours were changing kind of fast.

She leapt off the platform and hung, suspended, in the air for a second before the gravitational effect of the pillar in front of her caught her in its embrace and pulled her towards it. Ruby might have been slammed into it — or at least gently shoved, she wasn’t being pulled that fast — face first, but as she flew Ruby rolled in mid-air, tucking her legs up to her chest with Crescent Rose resting on her knees, before extending her legs again to touch the pillar with the soles of her feet.

Her knees buckled for a moment before she started to run directly up the black column, her red cloak flying out behind her, rose petals dripping from her body to form a pile down on the arena floor.

Okay, this? This was pretty cool. No doubt there were some people whose semblances let them do this all the time, but for Ruby, it was cool. Even cooler than a videogame because she was living it herself.

She reached the top of the pillar and leapt off it, being quickly caught and pulled in by the force of the next nearest platform to which she floated, gently as a cloud in the sky—

Until the lights on the platform above turned from purple to white, even as the lights of the platform below remained stubbornly white also.

Ruby hung in the air, caught between two equal and opposite gravitational pulls, one seeking to yank her up towards it, the other to drag her down towards it in turn.

And she herself not going anywhere.

Well, this never happened in any game.

Fortunately, she had something an Atlesian plumber didn’t: recoil.

Ruby spun in the air, not as fast as she would have liked, but she spun nonetheless, turning to face in the opposite direction to where she wanted to go. She aimed Crescent Rose straight ahead of her, and pulled the trigger. The blast sent her gliding backwards, like a pebble dropped into a treacle and slowly sinking through it. She fired again, and moved further back, staying between the two platforms, but moving in the right direction at least. She started to squeeze the trigger to fire a third time, but the lights on the platform beneath her changed from white to purple, and she was pulled upwards towards the lower side of the higher platform, having just enough time to orient herself in the air so that she landed feet first.

Conscious of the rush of blood to her head, Ruby moved quickly, rushing along the bottom of the platform and jumping off it, rolling in the air to land upon the side of the tallest column in the biome, a black slab stretching up into the air until it must have been coming close to the shield that protected anything — like missiles or whatever — from getting outside the arena via the hole in the ceiling.

Ruby ran up this column, just as she had run up the smaller pillar, her feet pattering upon the black synthetic surface, her crimson cloak riding up and down like a wave or the wake of a speedboat, Crescent Rose shaking a little in her hands.

She had almost reached the top when the lights changed from white to purple.

Ruby let out a little startled squeaking sound as she suddenly lost her foot, all grip on the vertical side of the column slipping away. She threw Crescent Rose outwards, using the scythe blade like a grappling hook, catching it on the very top of the column as she held onto the rifle tightly, very carefully not looking down at the long drop below.

Ruby grunted with effort as she managed to get her feet back on the black surface. Unfortunately, without any gravity, it was a challenge getting them to stay here, and without much in the way of handholds on the slender barrel of Crescent Rose it was going to be a bit of a trial climbing up it.

Which meant climbing wasn’t necessarily the best approach.

Ruby took a deep breath, and kicked off the column, reversing Crescent Rose as swiftly as she could and firing downwards, firing once, twice, three times, blasting herself upwards into the air each time by the recoil of her weapon until she had blasted herself up high enough that she could reach out, grab the top of the pillar, and pull herself up onto it.

From this high perch she, like an eagle on a mountaintop, could see everything.

And she could see that things hadn’t quite gone according to plan.

A lot of the battlefield had been cut in two by a wall of ice, a wall which left Pyrrha and Sunset on one side, with Thorn Hubert, and Jaune on the other side of it with Phoebe Kommenos, Lycus Silvermane, and Mal Sapphire.

You didn’t have to hate Jaune and want to put him down to say that that was not a great position for him to be in.

The only member of Team SAPR for whom that might have been a good position was Pyrrha, for whom it would have been the case that Phoebe, Lycus were stuck on the wrong side of the ice wall with her, but Jaune… Jaune, not so much.

Ruby aimed down the sights of Crescent Rose. “Don’t-a worry, Jaune,” she muttered, momentarily slipping into an accent appropriate for platforming, “I’ve got-ta you covered.”

Phoebe led the way, and it was Phoebe that Ruby shot at first, hitting her on the tower shield that she held up in front of her, covering her face so Ruby could only see the big green crest on her helmet. The shield took some of the effect of the shot, so that Phoebe was only staggered instead of being thrown backwards — must have been a pretty good shield — and she continued to rush forward, rushing… past Jaune? She darted around him, not even trying to attack him. Jaune looked for a moment as though he might try and intercept her, but Lycus was on him before he could, sickles slashing.

Mal, meanwhile, was brandishing her staff in his direction. That was an easier target than trying to hit Lycus while he was locked in combat with Jaune, so Ruby shot at her first — seven shots, with ten in the magazine, she would have to reload soon — and then shot at her a second time hoping to get her aura down, but Mal held her staff up in front of her, and the sight of her seemed to shimmer and ripple like water. Ruby fired again, but nothing happened that she could see. She didn’t react as though she’d just been shot, and a check on Mal’s aura level didn’t show any change at all.

She must be using wind dust to deflect the bullet. Ruby frowned just a little bit as she switched targets to Lycus, or tried to, watching him hurl himself at Jaune, sickles swinging, watching Jaune frantically block the blows with his shield, trying to find openings to counterattack.

They were too close together, and moving too fast, she couldn’t fire without risking hitting Jaune. And where was Phoebe?

There was a flash of bronze, the sunlight glinting off it to momentarily blind Ruby as she stared through her scope, as Akoúo̱ slammed into the side of Lycus’ head and knocked him off his feet.

Now Ruby shot him, redirecting his movement completely as he rolled into the grass, rolling upright and onto his feet, sickles still in his hand.

Pyrrha was there, spear in hand, smoothly recovering her shield as she stood between Jaune and their two opponents.

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. Jaune was going to be fine now that Pyrrha was back with him. But where was Phoebe?

A thump from below her directed Ruby’s attention towards the lower platforms, the lowest platform that Phoebe had just gained.

So that’s where she is. Right.

It occurred to Ruby that they might have misjudged Team PSTL. Apparently the Mistralian warrior values weren’t what they used to be.

Considering some of the dumb things that those values have made Pyrrha do, that might be a good thing.

Just not for us, right now.

But she still had time before Phoebe actually made her way up to Ruby, time to check on Sunset at least, see how she was doing.

Sunset … was not doing well. She had frozen up. Ruby couldn’t tell why she had frozen up, but she had.

Actually frozen up wasn’t the best way of putting it, with the way that she was shaking. It was like… it reminded Ruby of their mission in the Emerald Forest, when Professor Ozpin had asked them to go back to Mountain Glenn and Sunset had just… not freaked out exactly, it had been too quiet for that, but at the same time it was the best way that Ruby could think to describe it.

There were a lot of things that Ruby could be annoyed with Sunset about, and sometimes they could make her very, very annoyed indeed … but then there were moments when Sunset reminded you that she had some pretty nasty scars on her soul, even if she was generally pretty good at hiding them, and it got harder to hold her attitudes against her even if she was flat wrong and pigheaded about it.

This was one of those times, especially when Thorn Hubert hit her across the face so hard that she was knocked to the ground and she barely seemed to notice.

Ruby didn’t know what could have triggered this, but she was barely reacting as Thorn straddled her and started pounding on her with his fists, fists like rocks rising and falling.

Rainbow couldn’t tell us what his semblance was.

Could it be … scaring people?

Might be nice for an update on that, Professor Port.

“It looks as though Sunset Shimmer has fallen afoul of Thorn Hubert’s semblance,” Doctor Oobleck said. “This allows him to trigger an opponent’s traumatic memories … and Miss Shimmer seems to be suffering a particularly bad reaction.”

Not for long, Ruby thought, as she took aim. She would worry about Phoebe later, for now, Sunset’s needs took priority. Let’s see how easily you can keep it up under fire.

She pulled the trigger.

The blast caught him by surprise.

Not Pyrrha, of course, she’d leapt clear of the gust of wind as it came roaring towards them. But of all the things that she could teach him, how to move as fast as she did, as nimbly as she did, as light upon his feet as she did wasn’t one of them.

Or perhaps they just hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Or perhaps it was his own fault for deciding pre-emptively that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of the way and he’d be better off trying to take the blast head on.

Jaune raised his shield before him, and the shield began to glow with shimmering golden light as he concentrated his aura upon it.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to stop him from being lifted clean off the ground. Jaune fought to keep hold of sword and shield as he spun around and around, turned head over heels before being dumped unceremoniously upon his front upon the grass.

He groaned wordlessly, even as he tried to pick himself up as quickly as he could.

He heard something behind him, a rustling, rippling sound, but it wasn’t until he got to his feet — he still had hold of both parts of Crocea Mors, thankfully — that he saw what it was.

Mal had switched from wind dust to ice, and with that ice she had conjured up a barrier, a wall of ice that was way too high for him to consider jumping over, a wall that cut cleanly across most of their half of the battlefield, and all of the central hexagon, encroaching slightly into Team SAPR’s side with the gravity biomes.

A wall that separated him from Sunset and Pyrrha.

A wall that left him alone with three members of Team PSTL.

This isn’t good.

It wasn’t good because it wasn’t the plan — they’d assumed that Phoebe would be bent on Pyrrha, but apparently not; it seemed that Phoebe’s actual plan was to pick on the weak members of Team SAPR first, starting with him.

Which … wasn’t good for him, obviously, but at the same time Jaune wasn’t sure that it was such a great plan for Team PSTL; he guessed that he could see it, but at the same time they were almost certainly going to lose their one poor guy on the other side of the ice wall, and they’d still have Pyrrha and Sunset to deal with.

Plus, while he was under no real illusions about how he would do in a three against one, Jaune had no intention of going down without a fight.

It was a pity that his family would see him knocked out, but hopefully they’d appreciate that he gave a good account of himself first.

Jaune stepped into a guard, shield before him, sword raised to strike, a clear view of his opponents over the top of his shield.

“Okay,” he whispered, so quietly that he doubted any of Team PSTL could hear him, “whose first?”

Phoebe was first, rushing forwards with her own shield held up in front of her – too high up, he thought, he wasn’t sure how she could see over it — and her spear held loosely in her other hand. A shot from behind Jaune struck the shield, which staggered her and made him realise that she wasn’t holding her shield so as to guard herself from him, but to shield herself from fire from above.

From Ruby.

Jaune would have thanked her, except that he didn’t dare to turn his back on any of his opponents. Just because they hadn’t gone for him yet, they would doubtless follow Phoebe’s lead as she… as she rushed past him as though he wasn’t there at all.

She’s going for Ruby. They meant to take out the both of them, then, and hopefully have a numbers advantage against Pyrrha and Sunset. Again, Jaune wasn’t wholly convinced by the plan, but at the same time he supposed it wasn’t a bad one.

It was sufficiently good that he decided to interrupt it; with his aura reserves, he’d rather take on all three of Team PSTL until Pyrrha and Sunset finished with Thorn than let Phoebe engage Ruby up close — she was better off covering him.

He took the first step towards Phoebe, sword stretched out towards her; he had ice dust loaded, if he could—

“Not so fast!”

Jaune turned to see Lycus Silvermane descending on him, silver-white hair flying, face set with a savage smile, both sickles raised for a parallel slashing strike.

Jaune took half a step back, raising his shield to take the strokes as the sickles flew diagonally downwards, scraping across the shield’s surface hard enough to make Jaune reel a little to the side.

Lycus landed on the ground, slashing again, more wildly this time, first one sickle then the next in wide arcs. Jaune gave ground, stepping backwards, taking both strokes upon his shield before countering with a slashing stroke of his own.

Lycus took the blow in one sickle, turning the stroke, trying to twist Jaune’s sword out of his hand. Jaune lunged at him, using his shield like a battering ram aimed at Lycus’ face, forcing him back a step.

Jaune heard again the booming report of Crescent Rose, but obviously Lycus wasn’t the target.

He thrust at Lycus, point first, aiming for the eyes, but Lycus dodged the stroke, his body swaying nimbly to let the sword pass beside him.

Lycus let go of one of his sickles for a moment to grab Jaune’s outstretched arm; he was still grinning as he started to pull Jaune off balance.

Jaune hit him with his shield, making him let go, making him turn away in pain; unfortunately he converted that turn into a spin with his remaining sickle, slashing at Jaune’s unprotected belly now that he wasn’t covering himself with his shield.

Jaune winced as he felt some of his aura sliced away, and again he retreated backwards.

Lycus fluidly grabbed his other sickle off the floor and surged towards him in a flurry of swift strokes. Jaune tried to remember — well, no he did remember what he’d been taught in as much as Lycus wasn’t tearing him apart already, but although he was blocking with his shield, openings for him to counter with his sword were so few and far between as to be practically nonexistent. Lycus attacked him with a furious energy, sickle strokes scraping off his shield, striking sparks where they struck the metal.

Lycus hooked one of his sickles around the lip of Jaune’s shield, pulling it down, trying to wrench it away. Jaune slashed at Lycus’ wrist, but he parried with his other sickle.

Jaune thrust his head forward — not something Pyrrha had taught him, more a leaf out of Rainbow Dash’s book — at the same time as Lycus decided to do the exact same thing.

Their two heads slammed into another with a blow that Jaune felt through his aura. He would have taken a step back but Lycus still had a sickle hooked around his shield.

Until Akoúo̱ slammed into the side of Lycus’ head, knocking him sideways, sending him flying across the grass.

As he landed, Jaune fired a burst of ice dust, the ice sweeping out across the grass towards him before he could get up, covering his legs and keeping him stuck there as Pyrrha landed in front of Jaune.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said.

As she vaulted over the wall of ice, hair and sash alike streaming out behind her, Pyrrha’s eyes sought out Jaune and swiftly found him, locked in combat with Lycus Silvermane.

Mal Sapphire was watching them, seemingly unwilling or unable to risk hitting Lycus with any of her dust when he and Jaune were so close together.

And Phoebe… Phoebe was trying to reach Ruby on top of the gravity platforms.

We really did misjudge you, Phoebe.

There would, she hoped, be time to deal with Phoebe later. For now, her focus was on Jaune. She and Jaune were to stick together, that had been the plan, and as much as the plan was somewhat in tatters now there was no reason why they couldn’t salvage as much of it as possible.

And while Jaune was holding his opponent off, which gladdened her to see, he didn’t seem to be in much of a position to launch a counterattack, if left unaided.

He wasn’t losing, but how long might that state of affairs remain unchanged if she did nothing.

And so, as Pyrrha fell to earth like a thunderbolt from the heavens, she threw her shield before her, Akoúo̱ spinning through the air to strike Lycus on the side of the head and throw him away from Jaune who, with quick thinking, used some of his ice dust to freeze him in place before he could get up.

Lycus was straining against the dust as Pyrrha landed gracefully in front of Jaune.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, as Akoúo̱ flew back to her like a pet falcon, landing smoothly upon her wrist.

Jaune grinned. “No, I’d say you’re just in time,” he said. “Sunset—”

“Can handle herself, and Thorn,” Pyrrha replied. “We’ll deal with these two.”

As she spoke, she shifted Miló from spear into rifle mode, snapping off two shots at Mal Sapphire.

Neither of them seemed to strike; Mal did not flinch, her aura did not diminish at all.

Wind dust to deflect bullets. It was not unheard of. It meant that Pyrrha would have to get close.

“Follow me,” she said to Jaune as she started to run, darting this way and that, zig-zagging to make it harder for Mal to hit her with her dust. It was unfortunate that, just as her wind dust made it necessary to get in close, the green flames that wreathed Mal made that, too, a tricky proposition.

But with the reach of her spear — the spear into which Miló reformed in her hand — she should be able to manage it.

Mal thrust her staff out in Pyrrha’s direction, forcing Pyrrha and Jaune to leap to one side as another cone of wind emerged from out of the staff like a cyclone; Pyrrha could feel the wind lapping her face, playing with the strands of her hair as she leapt away, using a touch of Polarity this time to grip Jaune’s armour and make sure that he leapt away as well, the two of them landing closer to the ice wall than they had been, leaving a clear route between Mal and Lycus.

As Mal brandished her staff before her, a stream of ice emerging to form not a wall but a path, a path towards her trapped teammate down which Mal began to slide, skidding along even as the icy road began to weep from her flames, it appeared that that had been her intent.

Pyrrha stepped forwards, thrusting Miló outwards, setting off the dust charge to extend the spear’s reach by another foot and jab Mal in the shoulder, knocking her off the ice path.

She flailed as she fell, and Pyrrha spun upon her toes, red sash wrapping around her waist as she struck Mal from behind with the shaft of her spear, cutting her tumbling feet out from under her before thrusting down, straight down like a thunderbolt, smiting Mal upon the breast and driving her down into the ground.

Mal’s hood fell back, revealing her ram’s horns and her soft features, and her mouth from which fire spewed.

Pyrrha recoiled, feeling the heat of the fire upon her face but not feeling any damage to her aura.

Mal’s staff was lying on the ground, and while fire leapt from Mal’s mouth more fire leapt from her staff, burning its way across the grass to encircle Lycus where he lay trapped in ice.

With a growl, Lycus burst from the melting ice, standing for a moment amidst the flames that flickered in his eyes and reflected off his sickles, before he leapt clear of the fire.

“Thanks, Mal,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

Mal’s response was to surge to her feet and lunge for Pyrrha, arms outstretched, fire erupting from out of her mouth, seeking to engulf Pyrrha in the flames of mouth and cloak and staff too, the staff that she brandished in one hand.

Pyrrha raised her shield, letting the flames break upon Akoúo̱, washing over it a little, heating her face, licking at her aura, but not doing nearly as much as they would have done otherwise. And while she covered her face with Akoúo̱, she threw Miló the short distance between the two of them, striking Mal square on the chest to put her aura into the red.

“Mal Sapphire’s aura has been depleted in the first elimination of this match!” Doctor Oobleck cried as Mal, knocked back, flopped onto the ground. “Metaphorical first blood to Team Sapphire!”

“He’s getting away!” Jaune yelled.

Pyrrha returned her attention to Lycus, who had evaded Jaune’s attempts to snare him in more ice and was fleeing away from them, running towards the gravity platforms, where Ruby was perched.

And where Sunset was locked in combat with Phoebe Kommenos.

The thunderous boom of Crescent Rose swept all else away.

Mountain Glenn, Adam, all gone. Sunset was in the Amity Colosseum again, fighting in the Vytal Festival Tournament, fighting… fighting against Thorn Hubert, who was lying on his back a few feet away from her.

Anger surged through Sunset, making her ears droop, making her bare her teeth. He had done something to her, he had used his semblance that they hadn't known about, he had…

And Ruby had saved her.

Sunset turned back as she scrambled to her feet; she saw Ruby, precariously balanced upon the highest pinnacle of the gravity platform, and she could see Phoebe, distinctive by the tall, green crest of her helmet, on one of the lower platforms, trying to reach her.

It wasn't fear that made her teleport, it wasn't that she was afraid of getting another dose of Thorn's semblance, no, it was a sound tactical decision based on the strengths and weaknesses of the team.

That was why she teleported away, appearing on top of the smaller pillar that lay in Phoebe's path, between Phoebe and Ruby.

"Ruby!" Sunset yelled. "Focus on Thorn, okay? Leave this to me."

"Sniper duel?" Ruby called down.

"Sniper duel," Sunset replied.

Phoebe growled wordlessly beneath her helmet. "Don't get cocky, my little pony."

"You made me cocky when you paid Bolin Hori to fight me instead of facing me yourself," Sunset reminded her. "Why didn't you get your teammate to do it?"

Phoebe snorted. "It was beneath the dignity of an upperclassman to brawl with a first year."

"But it wasn't beneath your dignity to pay someone to beat me up?"

"If concepts like dignity and honour are to have any utility at all then they must evolve with the times," Phoebe declared. "I hired a huntsman to do me a service. I thought that was rather the point. Or did you mistake me for Pyrrha, so wedded to the old ways that I would seek her out for yet another… that I would seek her out, despite all the evidence of past experience?"

"I underestimated you," Sunset admitted. She put one hand to her shoulder, and with a touch of aura she ignited all the dust woven into her jacket, the flames of crimson and gold spreading across her back and shoulders, a burning cape settling upon her. "But I'm glad to have this chance to take you down myself."

She drew Soteria across her back, and as with her cape she ignited the fire dust and let the flames spread up the black blade.

"That's mine!" Phoebe snarled.

Sunset smirked. "Then come and get it."

She barely heard Crescent Rose firing above her. Sunset was wholly focused upon Phoebe as the lady of the Kommenos family charged at her.

Phoebe slung her shield back upon her back as she leapt, gripping her long spear in both hands. The gravity of the pillar seized her in its embrace, carrying her to the column's side where she landed upon her feet.

Sunset charged down the pillar to reach her; if she remained atop it the column then she would be unable to reach Phoebe with her sword even while Phoebe could reach her with her spear perfectly well. And so she charged, running down the side of the column with Soteria swept back for a strike.

Phoebe struck first, thrusting with her spear and forcing Sunset to parry, beating the thrust aside.

Phoebe thrust again, Sunset parried again. Phoebe twirled, almost like Pyrrha did but not as smooth or graceful, whirling her spear in her hands as she tried to sweep Sunset's legs out from underneath her.

Sunset jumped over Phoebe's sweeping spear, aiming a kick at her in the process. Phoebe caught the blow on the shaft of her spear, twisting it — and Sunset's foot — so that she was in danger of slamming face-first into the side of the column.

The lights on the pillar changed from white to purple.

With nothing holding either of them anywhere close to the column, they both began to fall. Sunset angled herself with her back to Phoebe, to hopefully land on top of her with her phoenix flames burning, but Phoebe was able to kick off the column and float back to the low platform where she'd started, landing on her feet once more.

Sunset did likewise, pushing herself off with one hand to just about make it into the gravitational pull of the low platform. With one hand she fired a bolt of magic at Phoebe, hitting her on the chest and knocking her back but not, unfortunately, knocking her clean off the platform. Phoebe rolled to her feet, tower shield once more half before her, and charged at Sunset so as to bull into her and knock her off her feet.

Sunset jumped out of the way, throwing herself sideways and upwards, borne onto one of the slightly higher platforms on her left. She turned in midair, magic leaping from her fingers as she floated. Phoebe turned to her, taking the magical blasts upon her shield.

Yes, Sunset had left the way to Ruby open, but if Phoebe tried to take it then she opened up her flank to Sunset in turn, while if Phoebe wanted Sunset and Soteria then Sunset had the high ground.

Sunset stood on the edge of the platform, Soteria raised and gripped in both hands.

Phoebe faced her, looking up.

Phoebe discarded her shield for a moment, splitting her spear into two smaller, lighter, javelin-looking weapons, one of which she hurled at Sunset.

She missed, the javelin flew past her shoulder and Sunset needed to do nothing to help it in its way.

Phoebe leapt, and as she leapt what Sunset was now certain was a dust crystal in her vambrace began to glow purple. Phoebe leapt up and over Sunset, tucking her legs up beneath her, rolling in mid-air, unfolding her legs to—

Sunset struck her legs as she moved to land, slashing at them with Soteria, the flaming sword slicing at Phoebe's aura to knock her flat onto her chest and face.

Just as Phoebe's javelin, summoned back to her, struck Sunset in the gut.

Her cuirass meant that she did not double over, but she was knocked off the edge of the platform, floating down to the platform below.

The javelin, summoned by the gravity dust, flew back to Phoebe's hand. She reformed her spear into one double-pointed weapon.

The two of them stared at one another.

At least, Sunset assumed that Phoebe was looking at her.

Sunset teleported up onto the platform next to her, on Phoebe's unshielded side. She slashed at her with Soteria once, twice.

Phoebe staggered, but turned, presenting her shield to Sunset. The ring of fire dust crystals surrounding the shield boss began to glow a moment before they exploded, a blast of fire emerging with a roar to engulf Sunset before she could conjure up a shield to protect herself. She felt her aura drop as the flames washed over her, but she wasn't eliminated yet.

Nevertheless, she retreated to the edge of the platform, throwing Soteria and using telekinesis instead of her hands to guide the blade, weaving it around Phoebe's spear and shield, striking past her defences in a way that, in all honesty, she would never have been able to do up close.

With a snarl of irritation Phoebe rushed at Sunset, ignoring the black and burning sword that harassed her, but by then Sunset had torn off her jacket and flung it at Phoebe.

Phoebe faltered, seeking to avoid the burning flames as they swooped down on her, dodging around her shield, avoiding her spear.

"Mal Sapphire has been eliminated! Metaphorical first blood for Team Sapphire!"

There was another blaring klaxon sound.

"And Thorn Hubert has also been eliminated!" Professor Port declared. "But not before he unleashed his last attack!"

As soon as Sunset called out to her, Ruby put Phoebe from her mind. Sunset would take care of it.

Her focus was on Thorn Hubert.

After Sunset had teleported away he must have realised that he was now on the wrong side of the ice, separated from all relevance to the battle, and while he could have moved forward to get around the ice wall that way, instead he had decided to mimic Ruby by getting to higher ground. He turned, and ran for the mountain at the rear of Team PSTL's half of the battlefield.

Unluckily for him, Ruby was already on the higher ground, as she reminded him when she shot him again. She estimated that one more hit would take him out.

Unluckily for Ruby, she had to reload.

Ruby ejected the spent magazine, letting it drop down to the floor of the arena, pulling another from a pouch on her belt and slotting it smoothly into the magazine well. She worked the bolt, chamfering her first round. The whole process took seconds, at best, but they were seconds in which Thorn had loosed a quartet of arrows in her direction.

Ruby took cover, retreating onto the reverse side of the column — the lights had switched from purple to white, and the soles of her feet stuck to the black surface once more, but just in case she kept herself hooked to the top of the column with the blade of Crescent Rose — until the arrows passed overhead.

By the time Ruby regained her position on top of the column, Thorn was leaping up the mountain in a zig-zag that made his movements hard to track, she couldn't predict where he was going to go in order to get a shot at him. Ruby scowled as she watched him through her scope, leaping from point to point, until he had almost reached the top of the mountain. She would get him then, he would have to stop if he wanted to loose at all.

He leapt instead. As he had nearly reached the top he jumped off the mountain, surprising Ruby so much that she was late off the mark in tracking him, and rolling as he hit the ground, rolling into cover behind some rocks at the foot of the mountain.

Ruby resisted the urge to take a shot out of sheer pique.

Thorn showed himself, bow drawn back, arrow on string, he emerged from out of cover.

Ruby shot.

Thorn loosed.

Ruby's shot hit Thorn, sending his aura into the red even as it threw him to the ground.

But Thorn's arrow soared up into the air, up and up towards the shield, and then, with a pop like the explosion of a modest firework, it burst into a hundred, no more than that, there were hundreds of them, hundreds of fragments falling gently down like shooting stars upon the battlefield.

As he saw the fragments of Thorn's last arrow begin to fall, seeming as though they were going to fall everywhere across the battlefield, Jaune was reminded of what Rainbow had said: that they were like missiles.

And they were falling everywhere.

He couldn't do anything for Sunset or Ruby, but Pyrrha was right on front of him and he could certainly do something for her, and so Jaune rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he spread his semblance over, the golden light spreading from his hands to engulf her, shimmering over her like dawn's rays chasing away the darkness.

Boosting her aura as the bombs came down.

They fell everywhere. They shattered the wall of ice that Mal had made, sending it crashing down in shattered icy chunks, they tore up grass and earth all around. They exploded, and Jaune could feel the explosions pounding on his aura, hammering it, tearing at it. He could feel his aura dropping as the explosions burst all around, but he kept his grip on Pyrrha, and he kept his semblance. She was going to be still in the fight when the explosion cleared, he guaranteed it.

As the bombs — or whatever they were technically called — started to fall, Sunset teleported up onto the highest pinnacle with Ruby, throwing up a tight shield around them both, a barrier of green magic like a cocoon enveloping them, so close that it was practically touching the top of Sunset's head as she crouched down with Ruby.

Explosions burst upon the shield like fiery flowers blooming, explosions blossoming then fading just as quickly. They burst upon the tip of the shield, but Sunset could see them exploding elsewhere too, even tearing holes in some of the gravity platforms, not to mention the grass and the central hexagon.

She couldn't see any of Team PSTL, those still in the fight or those who had been eliminated; she couldn't really see Jaune or Pyrrha, but as the explosions threw up soil and smoke she could still see a light, a shimmering white-golden light, that told her Jaune was there, and that he was protecting Pyrrha.

The explosions died down. The skies cleared, the smoke began to drift away, revealing that the higher platform on which Sunset and Phoebe had fought had a trio of holes ripped in it, with the gravity dust within the platforms plain to see, while the lesser pillar that formed part of the way up to their high column was gone completely. The lower platforms also loomed as though it had taken a hit, but as the smoke cleared Sunset was glad to be able to make out her jacket looking intact, although it had ceased to burn.

"Are you okay?" Sunset asked Ruby, as dispelled her shield.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ruby replied. "You?"

"That last one hit my magic hard," Sunset said. "But I've been careful with using it so far, so I'll be fine. Can you see Phoebe or Lycus?"

Ruby shook her head. "No, I— no, wait! There she is!"

She pointed, and Sunset followed the line of her outstretched hand and pointed finger to where Phoebe had just emerged from underneath a platform, having obviously taken shelter there from the barrage. Now she began to run and leap, crossing the distance between herself and the tall pillar atop which they stood.

Lycus joined her, emerging himself from beneath the rearmost platform, at least it seemed as though he was going to join her in the same direction before Pyrrha flew into him like a javelin, knocking him off course and giving him more than enough to worry about without helping Phoebe at all.

Nor did Phoebe make any move to help him. She kept on coming for Ruby and Sunset, as before.

Ruby raised Crescent Rose.

"No," Sunset said. "Or at least… I'd rather finish her myself."

"Do you have a plan?" asked Ruby.

"Yeah," Sunset said, sounding slightly affronted. "Yeah, I've got a plan."

"Okay, then," Ruby said, lowering her weapon. "I've got mine, get yours."

"Much obliged," Sunset said, as she searched for Soteria, hopeful that it, too, had— yes! There it was!

She kept her eye on it, but as yet made no move to grab it with her telekinesis.

Rather, she waited for Phoebe, letting her come on, letting her run across platforms and up columns.

Sunset waited until she had reached the tallest column, Ruby's column, and was running up it, before she charged downwards to meet.

Phoebe had her spear, and her shield, and all her sable raiment of war. Sunset had no weapons, not even a jacket. All she had were the vambraces on her wrists, infused with lightning dust.

Yet she charged down towards Phoebe like a bull in the field that has spotted a rival.

Phoebe let out a loud war cry as she thrust her spear, overarm, towards Sunset.

Sunset caught the blow, feeling the force of Phoebe's thrust jar her arm, feeling her aura drop, nevertheless she grabbed the spear with one hand, gloved fingers closing around the metal shaft just behind the tip.

Her other hand touched her vambrace, and with her aura activated the lightning dust.

Lighting erupted out of the shining metal vambraces, crackling, snarling, snapping like a pack of hunting dogs, lashing out in all directions, snapping up the metal shaft of Phoebe's spear towards her.

The lightning rippled up and down Phoebe's cuirass, snapping as it bit and tore at her aura. Phoebe jerked and twitched in pain, half-coherent sounds of pain emerged out of her helmet-concealed mouth.

And as Phoebe jerked and twitched, as she writhed, as the lightning devoured her aura, Sunset grabbed Soteria on the grip of her telekinesis and pulled it towards her, dragging it swiftly through the air.

The black sword flew up the side of the column and struck Phoebe from behind just as Sunset let go of Phoebe's spear.

Phoebe's back arched, she cried out in pain, and she lost her footing on the vertical surface.

Sunset brought Soteria down upon her one last time, from the front, knocking her off the pillar and sending her falling down, plummeting like an angel cast from heaven, towards the floor of the battlefield below.

"Phoebe Kommenos has been eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck yelled as the klaxon sounded. "Team Sapphire is only one more elimination away from a clean sweep!"

"And for the record," Sunset yelled down at her. "I would have kicked your ass the first time if you hadn't been too chicken to face me!"

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, an edge of anxiety in her voice as the smoke of the explosions cleared. Thanks to Jaune her aura was completely intact, in fact it was full again. "Are you alright? How's your aura?"

"A little run down," Jaune admitted, a touch of laughter in his voice. "But I'll be fine. How about—"

"I'm okay," Pyrrha told him. "Thanks to you."

She looked around, to see Lycus emerge from his cover beneath one the gravity platforms, and start leaping up them towards Ruby — and Sunset, who was up there with her now — even as Phoebe started to do the same.

She wouldn't be able to intercept either of them on foot, swift as she was they were just too far away. But…

She looked apologetically at Jaune. "Do you have enough aura left to give me a boost?"

Jaune grinned. "Of course." He recovered his shield, and held it up at an angle facing towards the damaged gravity platforms. "Hop on."

Pyrrha smiled, and as she smiled she leapt up onto Jaune's shield, balancing upon it with her arms out and her knees bent. She could feel Jaune's semblance, so soft and warm, like bathing in sunbeams, creeping up her hugs, even as Pyrrha concentrated her own aura in her legs.

She kicked off, jumping like a frog, propelled by her concentrated aura, enhanced by Jaune's semblance, flying through the air like a human spear towards her target.

She switched Miló from spear mode into sword in her hand as she flew.

Pyrrha intercepted Lycus in mid-leap, bearing him sideways, Pyrrha's momentum great enough to overcome the pull of the gravity dust upon her. She slashed at him with her sword while he could only flail in response — she had much more experience fighting in mid-air than he did, and it showed — slicing him across the torso once, twice, three times before switching Miló fluidly into spear mode and smiting him hard enough on the breast to send him flying backwards into the nearest pillar with a thud.

Pyrrha began to drift slowly towards that same pillar — too slowly for her liking. She let go of Akoúo̱, letting her shield be pulled forward by gravity while she kicked off it to accelerate herself, landing underneath Lycus and grabbing his boot—

No, not a boot, a trainer.

Pyrrha looked up. Jaune stared down at her, eyes wide with fear.

Pyrrha hesitated, grip on his foot loosening.

He tried to kick her in the face, but Pyrrha swayed aside, her ponytail swinging behind her, and instantly her grip upon his foot tightened again as she spun on her toes, bodily hurling Lycus over her shoulder and slamming face-first into the side of the pillar.

Lycus, now looking like himself again, groaned as he pushed himself off the column and floated onto the nearest platform. "Seriously?"

"Jaune wouldn't try and kick me," Pyrrha said.

Lycus grunted. He brought his two sickles together, a long shaft extending between the two of them to form a single, double-bladed weapon.

"Okay," he said, twirling his new weapon. "Let's do this."

Akoúo̱ was still drifting towards her. Pyrrha reached out to catch it, settling it on her arm for a moment before slinging it across her back. The two-handed spear would serve her better against Lycus' longer weapon.

She kicked off the pillar just as the white light turned to purple. The lights on the platform on which Lycus stood also turned purple, so there was no gravity to pull her towards the platform, only her own momentum which carried her over Lycus and behind him.

They charged at one another, weapons swinging. Pyrrha parried his downwards stroke with one blade, turned it away, tried to sweep his legs only to be parried in turn by his second blade. She slashed at him with the point but he retreated, he slashed at her legs but she leapt over his blade. They blocked one another with their shafts, whirling their weapons in their hands, weaving delicate shapes in the air with them as they blurred.

The clack clack of their clashing weapons rang in Pyrrha's ears. She did not feel at all in danger, but openings were a little hard to come by.

She leapt backwards, rolling over in the air, releasing Miló with one hand to pull Akoúo̱ off her back and hurl it straight at him.

Lycus deflected it, batting the shield away, but in so doing left himself open as Pyrrha followed, switching Miló from spear to sword.

With her free hand she grabbed Lycus' weapon, pulling it towards her.

With her other hand she slashed him across the belly. She spun around, slashing at him again as he let go of his weapon, letting her throw it away rather than throw him away.

He threw a punch at her, and then another, but Pyrrha dodged them both, slashing at him once more, twice more driving him back to the edge of the platform before she kicked him off it.

The lights around the nearest pillar had turned from purple back to white, and he floated towards it, but his aura had dropped into the red.

The klaxon sounded.

"And Lycus Silvermane, last member of Team Pastel, has been eliminated!" Professor Port cried, his words half drowned out by the sound of the cheering that Pyrrha became once again aware of, as though her ear drums had popped and she was only now becoming able to hear once more.

"The winners of this match are Team Sapphire of Beacon."

Pyrrha closed her eyes as the applause fell on her like rain. They had won. They had passed the first test. They had won. It was over.

The end had begun, and she hoped it had begun well.

"Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha opened her eyes to see Sunset leaping from pillar to platform towards her, a bright smile on her face and joyous laughter spilling out of her mouth. "We won!" she yelled, as she flew through the air towards Pyrrha, drawn towards her as if by the bond between them.

Even if it was really gravity dust doing the pulling.

"We won!" Sunset yelled again.

Pyrrha laughed, Sunset's smile infecting her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, we did."

Sunset landed on the platform before her, and no sooner had she landed than she enveloped Pyrrha in a hug.

"We won!" she repeated with a childlike glee. "Congratulations to us!"

Pyrrha put her arms around Sunset. "We won," she agreed. "Congratulations to all of us."

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Well, this chapter went long.

It was clear from when I wrote the plan chapter that I would have to rewrite the fight scene (and to think there was a time when I'd hoped these tournament chapters wouldn't need much alteration) and I did, with the addition of the gravity platform after V7 showed how that works, which was pretty fun to play around with a little bit.

The rewritten fight scene gives more to certain characters and less to others, while hopefully preserving the sense of a team effort.

Thorn's semblance comes out of rewatching Snow White (his allusions is to the huntsman) and how terrified of him Snow White becomes once he pulls the knife on her, and yes, that's probably because he just pulled a knife, but I liked the idea of a terror semblance that would let him temporarily get the edge on Sunset.

Congratulations (New)

Congratulations

Phoebe lay on the ground, the gravity platforms, overshadowed by said platforms as she was by so much else.

She lay in shadow, listening to the cheering of the crowd.

Cheering that was not for her.

It was Pyrrha that they cheered for: Pyrrha again, Pyrrha as always, Pyrrha once more, Pyrrha and that cursed faunus who flaunted Phoebe's birthright in front of her.

She had lost, again. She had failed, again. Pyrrha had triumphed over her once more, and now, she reaped the rewards: the love of the commons, applause falling upon her from all sides, progression in the tournament.

And now she was retiring! She would climb to the top, plant the greatest of laurels upon her brow, and then declare herself to be done. She would walk away, her reputation secured — more than secured, it would be unassailable. Not until someone came who could claim five consecutive tournament triumphs would she be spoken of in Mistral with anything but reverence and awe. Jealousy would persist, of course; in fact, it would be magnified, but who would dare speak openly against her? If she were to win the Vytal Tournament, was there any possibility that the Temple of Victory would strip her of her honours? When she had done what no Mistralian had done in forty years and brought the Vytal glory home?

The Evenstar indeed, such a light as had not been seen in Mistral these ages past.

Such a star to be so well beloved, and so accompanied. She had not even needed to see to Phoebe's defeat herself, but rather handed off responsibility to her faithful acolyte, that faunus, Sunset Shimmer, bearer of Soteria.

Phoebe would gladly eat her raw.

She was a scion of the House of Kommenos. Her ancestors had fought at Cynoscephelae and Raphia, her great-grandfather had fought alongside the Valish King at the Battle of Four Sovereigns…

Had fought against his home, his people, his Emperor.

There were some who said that the House of Kommenos was cursed, condemned by their own treason, detested by the gods for oathbreakers and rebels.

And as she lay there, in the shadows, listening to the crowd cheer her defeat and downfall, Phoebe found that she could well believe it.

Perhaps the valour of her house had died with Achates Kommenos. How else to explain the fact that she was such a failure?

She could not triumph over her rival, she could not win back her family sword, she could bring neither honour nor glory to her name or house. She could do nothing.

She was nothing.

She was the heir to an old name and a storied line, and she was nothing. She had nothing.

Neither honour nor love.

Nothing.

She lay in shadow.

Beneath her helmet, Phoebe began to weep. She would have been grateful that the helmet concealed her face, but honestly, nobody was looking at her in any case.

The shadows deepened. Someone was standing over her: Pyrrha, with Sunset Shimmer hovering diffident nearby, at one watching and trying not to watch. Lycus was there too, face downcast, eyes on the ground, but it was Pyrrha who stood over her, looking down on Phoebe as she always had.

She held out her hand to Phoebe. "You fought well," she said. "Your strategy quite took us by surprise."

She held out her hand. She held out her hand? She had the gall, the sheer barefaced audacity, to hold out her hand and murmur words conciliatory after this? After all that she had done!

She held out her hand!

Phoebe raised her head enough to spit on Pyrrha's outstretched hand.

"Choke on your insincerity; I need it not," Phoebe spat. She got up herself, without any assistance from Pyrrha. "I will not play my part in this dumbshow of yours, this performance of magnanimity for crowd and camera. Get you gone! Go and celebrate your victory."

"You'd know—" Sunset began, but fell silent at a raise of Pyrrha's hand.

"I…" Pyrrha began, trailing before she had said much. "I'm sorry," she said. "It was not my intent to give offence."

She turned away, began to walk off, leaving Phoebe behind, as she had already done in all ways else.

Her creature lingered a moment longer, giving Phoebe a sour look with those sullen eyes of hers.

They reminded Phoebe of her wretched stepsister; she had been one for sullen looks as well, always watching, staring, challenging Phoebe. No matter how Phoebe beat her, she was always watching.

Knowing that she had perished in the same fire that consumed her mother and sister had been the one small consolation in the whole miserable affair.

In any case, Pyrrha's faunus watched her for a moment, then turned away, following her mistress like a good little dog.

As the victors left her behind, Lycus approached. He moved slowly, diffidently, head bowed, not looking her in the eye.

"I … I'm sorry, my lady," he murmured. "We did…"

He trailed off again. Had he been about to tell her that they had done all they could? She found herself very glad that he had kept that to himself; it was … it made no difference. If they had done all they could, and yet had failed to eliminate even a single member of Team SAPR, not even Jaune Arc … then that just went to show how worthless and wretched they were.

Phoebe didn't answer him. She turned away, her eyes on Pyrrha and Sunset as they walked to join Jaune and Ruby.

As she watched, Sunset put one arm around Pyrrha's shoulder.

Phoebe didn't know what offended her more, that Sunset did it or that Pyrrha allowed it.

Lycus reached out to put a hand upon her shoulder. "My lady—"

"Don't touch me!" Phoebe snapped as she pulled away from him. "Remember your place."

Lycus bowed his head even lower. "Yes, my lady. I … should have done more."

His admission of error took some of the anger out of her, deflating like a balloon. While she remained angry, it was harder to be angry at someone who had confessed their fault than who attempted to defend themselves.

Instead of him, it was on Sunset and Pyrrha fully on whom Phoebe found her wrath focussed. Look at them, so happy, so carefree, so … so insulting to Phoebe and her struggles. It was disrespectful, insolent, impertinent. It was not to be borne!

Phoebe snatched her spear up from the ground.

"Sunset did very well in the end, didn't she, Professor?" Plum said.

"Yes," agreed Doctor Diggory. "She gave a rather good account of herself, after…" He elided over what had come before, rather murmuring, "Remarkably versatile semblance, she has."

"Why did she get so scared?" Plum asked. "That's what they said, wasn't it? That's what the boy did to her?"

"Yes," Doctor Diggory agreed. "Yes, that was his semblance. To all intents and purposes, at least."

"But she got very scared," Plum said.

"She must have a lot to be scared of," said Malmsey Scrub.

"Quite so, Mister Scrub," agreed Doctor Diggory. "It is an unfortunate truth that huntsmen and huntresses see much which is liable to remain with them, much that, if recalled, may cause them great anguish. No doubt that is the case with Miss Shimmer, for which she has my most sincere regret and deepest sympathies."

Terri-Belle got to her feet. "As expected, in many ways."

Swift Foot nodded. "Pyrrha didn't eliminate all four members of the opposition, but I thought she did well enough."

"She will do better with fewer teammates," Terri-Belle muttered. "But yes, she did well enough. But as I told you, it is Arslan Altan who of all the warriors of Mistral has most impressed this day."

Swift Foot smiled. "Do you think she might defeat Pyrrha, finally?"

"No," Terri-Belle declared, a note of scorn entering her voice. "No, she will not do that, but they will talk of her tonight, more than of Pyrrha Nikos or any other."

"Possibly," Swift Foot agreed. She frowned, tossing her long, wavy hair. "I feel sorry for Lady Kommenos."

Terri-Belle's eyebrows rose. "For what reason?"

"For the reason of our class," Swift Foot replied. "We are called to be warriors, it is our born purpose; to be anything else, to have a trade, a profession, is … shameful, subject for mockery—"

"One may be a lawyer without shame," Terri-Belle pointed out.

"Only because the law in Mistral is an extension of politics," Swift Foot said, "and even then, one is looked down on still if one is not also a warrior."

Terri-Belle found she could scarcely argue with that. "We are born to be shepherds of the people, true."

"Imagine how it must feel to be just bad at it," Swift Foot said. "To be bad at the one thing that, above all others and all else, is expected of your birth or valued by your peers."

Terri-Belle was silent a moment. "You would have a point," she admitted, "save that I am not convinced she is so poor at it. In personal combat, perhaps, but leadership? Tactics? She surprised Team Sapphire—"

"But her plan failed," Swift Foot pointed out. "Badly. And not just because she had bad luck: her plan called for one guy to keep Pyrrha and her team leader tied up; it was never going to work."

"At least she had a plan," Terri-Belle replied, "and we have need of those with wit as well as with strong spear arms. I will make a place for her in the Guard, if she will have it." She turned away. "But now I must go; I have work to catch up on."

"You won't come back to watch the second round draw, I take it," Swift Foot said.

"No," Terri-Belle declared. "Let me know if anything interesting results from it."

"You know, I had no idea if they were any good or not," Leaf observed. "But they were, weren't they?"

"Mmhmm," Veil agreed. "Although I thought your friend Sunset was gonna lose it for a second there."

"I think she did lose it," Leaf replied. "That was weird, wasn't it? Like … sure, that guy had a semblance, but still … what could make someone freak out like that?"

Diana groaned. "Pyrrha didn't take out everybody," she grumbled.

"Maybe she was giving everyone else a chance," Serena suggested. "Like in school?"

Diana knew what she meant. School sports, they were constantly reminded, were about participation, not skill.

That didn't make being bad at netball any easier.

"You're probably right," she agreed. "Pyrrha's just being nice. It's just like her, when you think about it."

Saphron whooped with glee, leaping up off the sofa with Adrian held up in her arms.

Adrian raised his own little hands, gurgling excitedly whether he understood what mommy was excited about or not.

"Yay! They did it!" Saphron cried. "Uncle Jaune and Auntie Pyrrha—"

"That's still weird," Terra muttered, but despite her tone there was a fine smile playing across her face. "Now, I ask you, was that boring?"

"No, no, it wasn't," Saphron admitted. "No, it wasn't, Adrian, was it? Was it?"

Adrian gurgled.

"I'm sure he like the bright colours, even if he didn't recognise Jaune or Pyrrha," Saphron said. "I do kind of wish that Jaune had gotten to do something cooler, but I don't suppose that was ever on the cards."

"He didn't disgrace himself," Terra pointed out.

"No, he didn't," Saphron agreed, "and I guess, so long as he's satisfied with himself, that's all that really matters."

"To be honest," River said. "I was hoping for a little more from Jaune."

"Give your brother a break; he only started training this year," Dad pointed out. "A lot of students have been training half their lives. It's impressive he held his own."

"Impressive and thanks to Pyrrha," Kendal said.

"Right," Sky said. "Thanks to Pyrrha. So let's not be down on Jaune, okay? Let's just be happy for both of them that they got the win and wish Pyrrha well from all of us and best of luck in the next round."

As they walked towards their teammates, and towards the other two members of Team PSTL, the crowd felt almost as distant from Sunset as they had been during the battle itself. Not quite so distant — she could actually hear them now, their cheers like the crimson leaves of the Forever Fall falling downwards upon their heads — but at the same time, it still didn't feel like they were really there with Sunset and the others.

They were separated, by more than just distance, like gods observing the goings-on of the little world encompassed by the arena, or ghosts observing the living but unable to interact with them.

And yet, it was good to hear them nonetheless.

"I must admit," Sunset said, "I struggle with the fact that you don't like this."

Pyrrha chuckled. "No doubt it seems to you very fine?"

"It is … not displeasing to the ear," Sunset admitted.

"But imagine it was all your ears could hear," Pyrrha said. "No kind words from a friend sincerely meant, no honest counsel, no love's whisperings, nothing but the cheers descending from far off." She smiled. "Like sugar, it is best in limited doses."

"But it can be enjoyed," Sunset said, slipping an arm around Pyrrha's shoulders, "as part of a balanced diet."

They drew close to the others. Jaune turned towards Pyrrha, a smile beginning to crawl across his face like the rays of dawn across the surface of the world. "How did it go?"

Pyrrha wiped her hand — the hand that Phoebe had spat on — upon her sash. It was not the first time she had done so since Phoebe spat on it. "It … wasn't well received, unfortunately."

Mal Sapphire winced. "Sorry about that," she murmured. "Phoebe is … switching it off after a match is difficult for her."

Sunset thought that was being very generous, but did not say so. Instead, letting her arm fall from Pyrrha's shoulder, she said, "You fought well."

"You fought better, obviously," Mal said quietly. "But thanks anyway. Phoebe thought that you'd expect us to focus on Pyrrha Nikos, and you did, didn't you."

"Yes," Sunset said. "Yeah, we did." Her gaze flickered to Thorn. "You've got a nasty semblance, if I may say."

"Are there any bad semblances?" Ruby asked. "Or just bad uses?"

"I'd say the second one, obviously," Thorn replied. He scratched his elbow with one hand. "It doesn't usually affect people as badly as that. I didn't know what it would do to you."

"But you still took advantage of it," Sunset pointed out.

Thorn shrugged. "We were in a battle."

Sunset couldn't really argue with that, so she didn't even try. Instead, she returned her attention to Mal. "Can I ask you something? How do you get that cool green effect with your flames?"

Mal blinked. "You mean on my cape? You like that?"

"Yeah!" Sunset cried enthusiastically. "It really stands out. What are you doing?"

"Copper shavings," Mal explained. "I adulterate the fire dust with copper to get the green colour."

Sunset's brow furrowed slightly. "Doesn't that reduce the intensity of the flames?"

"They don't burn as well, no," Mal admitted. "But I think it's worth it."

Sunset might have said something else, had Pyrrha not at that moment shoved her roughly aside.

Sunset stumbled, righted herself, opened her mouth to question Pyrrha when she saw Phoebe Kommenos charging towards Pyrrha, spear aimed at her back.

Pyrrha was already moving; she had shoved Sunset aside to clear the space around her, and now, she flowed like water, sash whirling, pulling Akoúo̱ across her back to turn the blow.

Sunset fired before that was necessary, a bolt of magic leaping from her outstretched palm to hit Phoebe in the side and send her flying. Thorn and Mal rushed to her side, as did Lycus as he ran to catch up with her.

Pyrrha glanced at her. "Please don't think me churlish, but was that necessary?"

"As far as I'm concerned, yes," Sunset growled, as she stomped past Pyrrha and the others towards Phoebe. "What was that, huh? You trying to land a late hit on my teammate?"

Phoebe roared with frustration as she leapt to her feet and had to be restrained by Thorn from throwing herself on Sunset. She tore her helmet off her head, and Sunset could see that there were tears in her eyes. "This is not over, you filthy, disgusting, flea-ridden little thief! Thorn! Let go of me this instant!"

"Yeah, Thorn, let her go," Sunset said. "Try it; I'll toss you clean off this stage!"

"Sunset, stop," Pyrrha insisted, grabbing Sunset by one shoulder and hauling her back sufficiently for Pyrrha to get in front of her, planting herself between Sunset and Phoebe. "Sunset, this is not seemly."

"Don't turn your back on me, Pyrrha!" Phoebe raged. "Don't you dare turn your back on me!"

"The battle is over, Lady Kommenos," Pyrrha declared, her voice weighty and firm. "The only thing you do by this is shame yourself."

“I never liked her,” Juturna said as they watched Phoebe try — and fail, obviously — to get free of her own teammates and attack Pyrrha. Like that was going to work.

Fun to watch, though, Juturna thought as she munched on some popcorn.

“This is an absurd display,” Turnus said, getting up and turning his back on the whole affair. “Pointless and ridiculous in equal measure.”

“She is in grief,” Camilla pointed out. “It can conjure strong passions.”

“Perhaps it can, but what does she hope to accomplish by it?” Turnus demanded.

“I … know not, my lord,” Camilla admitted. “I cannot see into her mind. Or her heart.” She paused. “The rest of the battle was enjoyable, I thought.”

“Team Sapphire fought well, but so did Team Pastel,” Turnus declared. “Better than might have been expected. Phoebe led her team better than might have been expected. Which is why it is so … disappointing that she has chosen to sully her reputation thus.”

Cinder tsked and tutted and clicked her tongue as she beheld Phoebe's outburst, watching as she raged and screamed and wept and hurled herself against the force of her own teammates as she sought to reach her disdainful adversaries.

It was a delight to see, and all the more delightful for giving Cinder the ability to make moralising mock of her.

"Such a poor sport she is," Cinder murmured, shaking her head sadly.

A smile crept across Cinder's face as a thief creeps into an empty house to steal the treasure within. "And yet," she went on, "Phoebe being so poor a sport, I think we may have sport with her." She leapt to her feet, her glass slippers tapping loudly on the floor. "Come, Emerald, attend me. We have business in the city."

Emerald looked from Cinder to the scroll and back again. "Now?"

"This very night, presently, at once," Cinder replied. She paused. "Yes, now, come, come, up, up!"

"But…" Emerald began, "the second round picks—"

"We'll find them out tomorrow, ere the contests recommence," Cinder said. "This will not wait."

"Won't— I mean, will it not?" asked Emerald. "What business, what rush, what sport, what is all this?"

That was a fair question, for all that Cinder was somewhat loath to give the answer. She would have preferred obedience absolute and based on faith. "You asked that with a pretty tongue," she said softly.

Emerald stood up. "I would rather be answered than be flattered."

Cinder chuckled. "I'm very proud of you nevertheless. Well, since you ask so prettily, I … I know Phoebe Kommenos by … reputation. By reputation of dark deeds, rather. Defeated as she is, humiliated as she has been, enraged as you can see she is, she will this night seek out cruel consolation." It had ever been so. Those had been the worst of Cinder's nights, when Phoebe, beaten, would render Cinder black and blue in turn and … worse besides.

It was not a cause for hate she could admit to Sunset, still less to Pyrrha herself, and familiarity had dulled it greatly, but … Cinder had often wondered if it would have pained Pyrrha so much to give Phoebe a victory and spared Cinder thus a night of torment.

"Therefore into Vale we'll go," Cinder went on, "and straight to the skydock to linger thereabouts for Phoebe, and … I fear that I must ask you to play a helpless part, to look a victim, homeless and hungry as you were when we first met, a person of no consequence, one who could die and not be missed, one who could scream and not be heard, one upon whom Phoebe may work her will without fear. Entice her thus, draw her to some dark secluded place…" A little laugh, a low-throated growling rumble of anticipation, escaped her throat and passed her lips. "There shall she find me waiting and be hoisted on her own petard as I have my fatal sport with her that she had thought to have with you." She spread her arms out wide on either side of her. "A fine plot, no?"

"A fine plan," Emerald agreed. "If she comes."

"She will come," Cinder declared. "I know she will."

"How do you know?" Emerald asked. "And why do you care?"

"Ask me not that, Emerald," Cinder said, turning away and striding towards the door. "Ask me not."

"I must help you get into Vale, I have to help you take that risk, but I can't know why?" Emerald demanded, frustration rendering her words more vulgar. "Would Sunset know why? Could you tell her?"

Cinder's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over her shoulder. "That is unworthy of you to ask."

Once, Emerald would have trembled in fear of Cinder's displeasure. Now, she stood her ground, with all hints of trembling nearly vanished. "I won't help you unless you give me a reason," she said. "The risk of us being seen in Vale, tonight of all nights, when the whole city is alive with celebration … not without a reason. Why do you want her dead? Why should we take the risk for her?"

"Because…" Cinder began, but soon trailed off again. She could have invented reasons, claimed that Phoebe's death — Phoebe, the Mistralian noble and the Atlas student — would set the cat amongst the pigeons; but Emerald would reject such, and rightly too. Such reasons would be weak if they were true.

She could not tell her all the truth. She could not bare her soul to Emerald, confess all her sorrows, unburden herself of the sad story of her early days. Sunset had ripped Cinder's truth from out her soul; she whom Cinder was most content to share it with would never have been granted it voluntarily. Certainly, she would not yield up to Emerald her real name, her history, all the rest. But … though she could not give Emerald the whole truth, still, she could give her something.

She owed her something.

"I know the bitch of old," Cinder declared. "And of old, she … did me injury. I will repay it, with the interest of these years. The time, it seems to me, is fitting now. I owe her a debt, as she owes a death; I mean for them to come due."

"But … why now?" asked Emerald. "You could have killed her when we were at Beacon."

"I was afraid," Cinder said, which was far truer than she would like to admit. Even now, she could not be certain what would become of her when she and Phoebe came face to face again. She could not be certain that she would not become once more poor frightened Ashley, frightened, useless girl. Nevertheless, she had to try. "That if I did so, investigation might lead to our discovery, but now … I may get no better chance than this; I must attempt it."

Emerald was silent, looking into Cinder's eyes, her own eyes of crimson narrowed slightly. "If you must try," she said quietly, "then I must help you. Come, let us go, as your old book says."

Cinder sniggered. "So it does," she agreed. She paused a moment. "You have my thanks. You … you are a good friend to me. Better than my conduct has of times deserved."

"You're the … you are the only friend or family I've ever known," Emerald confessed. "However I can best help you, I will. Let's go, if this will make you happy."

"I hope it will," Cinder replied.

And all the more did she hope that it might bring her peace.

"Kommenos!" The voice of General Ironwood, raised to a bovine bellow, cut through the noise of the crowd. "That is enough!"

The cheering that had greeted Team SAPR's victory had become more infected with boos and jeers, but General Ironwood's voice cut through them all.

The man himself strode onto the field, and as he did so, Team PSTL immediately leapt to attention, even Phoebe, the spear falling from her hands to land with a thud upon the central hexagon.

General Ironwood's hands were clasped behind his back as he bore down upon his students, casting a shadow over even the tallest of them.

"That is enough," he repeated, his voice seeming at once quieter but also sharper at the same time.

Phoebe trembled. "Sir, I—"

"We will discuss your punishment for bringing yourself, your team, and Atlas Academy into disrepute tomorrow morning at oh-seven-hundred hours," General Ironwood declared, cutting her off before she could explain. He turned to Team SAPR. "Team Sapphire, I regret that in addition to congratulations on your victory, I must also offer my apologies for the conduct of my students."

"That's not necessary, sir," Pyrrha murmured.

"Unfortunately, Miss Nikos, it is," General Ironwood declared.

"In which case, sir, the apology is accepted," Sunset replied, with a slight but hopefully noticeable bow of her head.

General Ironwood bowed in turn, a rather more noticeable bow from the waist, one hand upon his heart. He straightened up and turned his gaze — a gaze that seemed to become at once more baleful as he turned it — upon Team PSTL. "Dismissed!"

None of the Atlas students said a word more as they marched away, heading back through the tunnel from which they had first emerged out onto the battlefield.

General Ironwood lingered a moment more, looking around the crowd, listening to the booing and the jeering, then he followed Team PSTL towards their corridor away.

From out the other corridor, the one that Team SAPR had used to enter the arena, emerged out onto the battlefield Professor Ozpin and Skystar Aris. The latter was dressed in Valish green, accented with Atlesian white, Mistralian blue, and even Vacuan yellow. Her dress itself was green, made of a shimmering fabric, with a single shoulder and a diagonal neckline that ran from that shoulder to down beneath her other elbow. Upon her feet, she wore white high-heeled sandals with straps that wound around her ankles halfway up to her knees. Around her wrists, she wore bracelets of yellow amber beads, and a necklace of large blue topazes, each bigger than both of Jaune's thumbs pressed together, hung from about her neck. Her hair was adorned by feathers in all four colours, green, white, blue, and yellow so that she seemed almost some riotous bird of paradise.

She smiled brightly as she approached Team SAPR, although it seemed to Sunset there was something just a little strained about it.

"Congratulations!" she cried.

"Thanks," Sunset said. "We did our best."

"You did really well," Skystar assured them all, before moving to the very centre of the central hexagon.

Professor Ozpin stood by her side silently, a mug of cocoa held idly on one hand.

Skystar raised the microphone she was holding and turned it on.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, has this been a great first day of the tournament or what?"

Despite the fact that the day had been a little marred at its very ending very recently, the crowd still gave her a resounding 'YES!' like a sudden thunderclap bursting overhead.

Skystar chuckled. "I just want to thank our contestants, winners and losers, for giving us such entertaining fights, on behalf of Vale and all of us here: your bravery has not gone unnoticed, and your skill is appreciated." She paused. "But it's not over yet! Please don't all rush to leave the coliseum, because in thirty minutes, right here, we will be announcing which students will be moving forward into the two-on-two round and revealing second round match-ups! In thirty minutes, so can we please have all teams which won their first round matches gathered here for that? That's going to be so exciting, so please, stick around; concession stands are still open, grab some more popcorn. And then, after that, the fairground will stay open for the rest of the night. There's also a couple of other events being held in Vale: the Beacon Alumni Society is holding a dinner disco where I'm told that Doctor Oobleck will be DJing; the Iceberg Lounge is holding a celebration of cross-cultural trends in music and refreshment … I think that means music and drinks with influences from outside Atlas; and at the Museum of Arms and Armour, there is a celebration of Mistralian martial arts sponsored by the Mistralian embassy, including Arslan Altan doing a self-defence workshop for children which I think sounds really cool, even if I am probably too old for it." She grinned. "But first: second round picks, right here, in thirty minutes!"

Team SAPR exited the battlefield the same way that they had entered it, passing out of the sight of the crowds and into the corridor that led beneath the stands. Professor Ozpin and Skystar Aris remained behind, although they had a long time to wait until the second round announcements were made. As Team SAPR departed, the mountain and the gravity biomes receded, disappearing into the buried recesses of the Amity Colosseum, replaced with four grey metal quadrants bearing the arms of the four competing academies. The central hexagon, bearing Skystar and Professor Ozpin, elevated upwards above the rest, so that the two were unable to leave even if they wished to.

The cheering and the jeering alike began to die down to a low murmuring, like the rumble of the trembling earth that precedes an avalanche, interspersed with the occasional bursts of 'it's coming home' or other songs that Pyrrha did not recognise.

The four of them were met in the corridor by Penny. Arslan was there too, and Yang, and Rainbow Dash, and Blake, and the rest of Teams YRBN and RSPT; but it was Penny who stood at the forefront, bouncing eagerly upon the balls of her feet, and it was Penny who rushed towards them as soon as they entered the corridor.

"That was incredible!" she cried, sweeping Ruby up onto a hug that swept her off the ground before Penny twirled her around in the air. "You all did so well!" She enveloped Pyrrha in a hug that encompassed Pyrrha's arms, pinning them to her side as Penny squeezed her so tight that Pyrrha would have winced if she had not been smiling. "I'm afraid I was actually a little worried for a moment." She pressed Sunset's head against her shoulder, her fingers interwoven through Sunset's fiery hair. "But you came back and you did it! You were sensational!" She lifted Jaune as far off the ground as their respective heights allowed, which was, as it turned out, not very far.

Sunset chuckled. "I won't hold your momentary lapse of faith against us, Penny. For a second there, I was a little worried myself."

"I told you that Phoebe was a better leader than she was a fighter," Rainbow observed.

"Yes, yes, you did," Sunset accepted. "We … misjudged her."

"How do you mean?" Penny asked. "You weren't expecting her to react so badly to losing? I don't think anybody was expecting that."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "Although perhaps we should have expected that too. But what Sunset means is that, since Phoebe and I have a history in the arenas of Mistral, we expected that she would make me her priority target, instead of singling out Jaune and Ruby."

"It might not have been what you saw coming, but you made it work," Yang said. "And I think being able to improvise, adapt, and overcome in the heat of the moment is as important as going in with a great plan to start with. You did that; they didn't." She grinned. "Nice shooting out there, Ruby."

"Yes, indeed," Sunset agreed. "Without you, I … that guy's semblance is…"

"Mmm," Blake murmured. "I'm almost glad it was you facing that instead of me. I wouldn't want to have that used on me."

"On the other hand," Twilight said, "I think that for some people, it would hardly affect them at all."

"Small consolation, that, if you are one of those it hits hard," Ciel murmured.

"I don't understand," Penny said. "Why did Phoebe react the way she did?"

Arslan began, "Because she's a complete and utter—"

"Because she is a Mistralian," Pyrrha said.

Arslan frowned at that. "We're all Mistralian, P-money; we don't all act like that."

"Because we are blessed with skill that Phoebe is … not," Pyrrha suggested. "For all that she has gifts in other areas, those areas are not so valued by our society, especially not by the class that she and I share. We live our lives seeking to be the best; even as we recoil on envy from those who are superior to us, we seek both to grow tall and to cut down the tallest. What happens then to those who fall short? For Phoebe, I fear that these are not merely defeats but humiliations, humiliations that she could brook no further."

Penny frowned. "I … you don't make your own kingdom seem very nice, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled and put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "I'm sorry; without doubt, there is much beauty in Mistral, much greatness in its people. It is my home, and as my home, it will always have a claim upon my heart, but … I am neither blind to its grievous faults nor the type to conceal them from my friends."

"I see," Penny said. "I suppose that's a good thing. And I'd still like to see your home one day, with Amber and the rest of you."

"And I would love to show it to you," Pyrrha said. "Now … I know not what we will do to while away these thirty minutes until the second round contestants and match-ups are announced, but if you will all excuse me, I must call upon my mother in her box." She paused. "Actually, would you mind coming with me? Jaune, Sunset, Ruby, I mean. I think that she'd like to speak with all of you, or certainly, she wouldn't be averse to seeing you all after the match."

"And I, for one, have no objection to calling upon my lady," Sunset said.

"Of course you don't," Blake muttered.

"Hey, you know Atlas councillors and generals," Sunset pointed out. "You have lost your right to mock me for my deference."

Blake was quiet a moment. "That's a good point," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

"I'll come too," Jaune added.

"And me too," said Ruby. "Why don't we let you know when we're done and then we can all … get drinks or something while we wait?"

"That sounds wonderful!" Penny said.

"Sure thing," Yang said. "Just send me a text when you're through." She smirked. "Have fun reporting to Pyrrha's mom."

There wasn't much that she could say in response to that, and Pyrrha didn't even try. Instead, leaving the others behind, Pyrrha led her friends upwards, around the great circle of the coliseum and up the various levels into which it was divided, climbing shallow staircases, passing Atlesian androids deployed for security, climbing upwards and upwards, winding around and around, until at last, they came to the private box that her mother had purchased for herself.

Hestia stood … not guard, exactly — she was no warrior — but she offered the guard of propriety and courtesy, that no one at all mannered would force entry that Lady Nikos' attendant denied to them.

At the sight of Pyrrha, Hestia curtsied and stepped. "Good evening, young m'lady. You can go right in."

"Good evening, Hestia, and thank you," Pyrrha replied.

Hestia smiled. "And congratulations too, young m'lady." She cleared her throat. "Lady Pyrrha and her team, m'lady."

"Of course," Mother said, and as Pyrrha and the others stepped into the box, she pushed herself to the feet with the aid of her cane.

"Mother," Pyrrha said. "There is no need to—"

"I am not so infirm yet," Mother said sharply. She was silent a moment, waiting, watching.

Without needing to be bidden, the four members of Team SAPR formed a line facing her, as if for inspection.

And Mother did indeed appear to inspect them for a moment, her sharp-eyed gaze sweeping across the company.

"You are an excellent shot, Miss Rose,” she said.

"Thank you ma— I mean, my lady," Ruby said.

Mother nodded, however short a gesture it was. "Mister Arc," she said. "Miss Rose struck the final blow on one adversary, Miss Shimmer one, Pyrrha two … and you, none."

Sunset began to speak, "If my lady will—"

"We will come to you, Miss Shimmer, fear not," Mother said.

Pyrrha frowned, but curbed her own impulse and desire to defend Jaune herself. She slipped her hand into his, but said nothing. Her defence would do him no good presently.

Jaune was silent a moment. He bowed his head and almost frowned, but the frown was gone when he raised his head again. "My lady," he said. "I'm still the weakest member of this team; it would be weird if I wasn't. But I wasn't a liability, and I'll even say that I helped, with my dust and with my semblance. Because of me, Pyrrha didn't have to fight two on one. I'm sure that she would have won two on one, but because of me, she didn't have to. We won the fight, and we all played a part in that, so I don't think that talking about who eliminated how many matters very much."

Mother didn't reply, which might have meant almost anything, impassive as her countenance was. "Miss Shimmer," she went on, "you weren't expecting the opposition's tactics, were you?"

Sunset cleared her throat. "I fear that we expected a more Mistralian … sense of priority from Lady Kommenos, my lady. Instead, she looked upon this battle with a different eye."

"Phoebe Kommenos desired victory," Mother said. "That was the uppermost in her thoughts, and should have guided your estimations of her thoughts also, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, my lady," Sunset murmured.

Mother paused, and as she paused, she smiled ever so slightly. "How did it feel to defeat her?"

Sunset allowed herself a small smile of her own. "Very good, my lady."

Mother nodded approvingly. "Indeed. I confess I always took some pleasure in her downfall. In fact, having witnessed that obscene display, I hardly feel I need confess it. What she hoped to gain by it, I know not." She paused. "I am sorry that that young man's semblance affected you so, Miss Shimmer. You have my sympathies."

"And my lady has my thanks," Sunset murmured.

Mother did not answer that, but rather, at last, turned her attentions towards Pyrrha. "You did not distinguish yourself the most of all Mistralians today," she said.

"No," Pyrrha replied without shame. "And you must have known I would not after Arslan won her great victory. Our own triumph was one won by the team, a joint enterprise in which I did not disgrace myself. I am content with that, and I urge you to be content likewise. You have my word, in rounds to come, I will meet your expectations."

Mother's eyebrows rose. "Will you?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "For in this, they are my expectations also. I would take leave of all arenas with my head held high."

"I should hope so, and yet, it gladdens my heart to hear it nonetheless," Mother said. "Very well, I shall await tomorrow's round with eager anticipation. And in the meantime … congratulations to you all."

Second Round Picks (New)

Second Round Picks

The teams who had won in their first round match-ups were gathered back in the arena. Sixteen teams stood arrayed in parade-ground fashion, each team in line abreast, each team forming a column, all of them facing the Amity Princess and the headmaster of Beacon where they stood on the central hexagon, elevated up above the students below.

The arrangement of column by school made it easy to see that Beacon had done better than average and Shade had done worse, with Beacon having five qualifying teams and Shade three. Atlas and Haven were both exactly average with four winning teams apiece, which was disappointing for Atlas, which really ought to have done a lot better.

As a school, they would have to collectively up their game going into the second round.

Team RSPT were second in the Atlesian column, behind Team TTSS but ahead of teams FNKI and SABR.

On the right of the line, looking up over Trixie's hat, Rainbow waited. She wondered if Doctor Polendina was watching this. She didn't know if Penny had told him that she wasn't progressing any further on the tournament, but Rainbow doubted it.

When he found out, Doctor Polendina was likely to have views.

For that matter, Doctor Pietro might be a little disappointed too.

It didn't change her decision, but at the same time, it wasn't really something she was looking forward to.

Something to worry about a little later. For now, she wanted to know who she'd be up against in the next round.

"Good evening, students," Professor Ozpin said. He spoke without the aid of a microphone, and while Rainbow could hear him just fine, she wasn't sure how his voice was carrying to the stands.

Perhaps he didn't want the crowds to hear him.

"When this day began, there were thirty-two teams prepared to fight for their own glory and the honour of their schools in this tournament. Now, only sixteen teams remain, and per the rules of this tournament, only two huntsmen or huntresses from each team may progress into the next round.

"In the vocation you have chosen, it is sometimes necessary to make difficult decisions. You may have to leave comrades behind to accomplish your goals, split up and send only part of your force to complete an objective. The choice that you have to make tests not only the ability of half a team to function without the other, but also your ability to choose: do you know the strengths and weaknesses of your team members well enough to select the best choices? Can you put your own desires for glory behind the greater good of the team, if that is what is best?

"This is a tournament, a celebration and a relief, but do not think that nothing that happens within this arena has lessons applicable to the world beyond." He paused. "Miss Aris, if you would be so good."

Skystar Aris took a step forward. She was speaking into a microphone, and it let her voice carry out over the students, and they must have been able to hear her in the stands.

"Hello again, people of Remnant! Whether you're here with us in the Amity Colosseum or watching on TV, welcome back as we announce the second round draws!" Skystar cried. "First, the students of all teams that won their first round matches will submit the names of the two students going forward into round two, which I announce for you all. Then, the computer will assign match-ups for tomorrow's eight matches, and I will announce those as well. So without further ado, team leaders, will you please make your submissions!"

There was a flurry of rustling around as all the team leaders got out their scrolls, Rainbow included. An app had been added to her device, and presumably to Sunset's and Trixie's and every other team leader's scroll as well, when she had been selected for the tournament. It linked to a database, which Skystar could access from her end.

At her end, as she opened up both scroll and app, all Rainbow could see were the names and headshots of herself and her three teammates.

Around her, Rainbow could hear beeps as leaders made their selections and sent them off.

She glanced at Ciel, who stood next to her. "Are you sure about this?"

Ciel, in turn, looked at Penny. "A chance remains to change your mind."

Penny, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. She shook her head. "You two go for it. And good luck."

Rainbow sighed, even as she felt a little more apprehensive than relieved. "Okay," she said. "Here goes."

She selected her own name and Ciel's. With two people selected, a send button appeared in the corner. Rainbow picked that too, at which point, a pop-up appeared to check she was sure, and by this point, Rainbow just wanted it to accept her answer already.

Skystar had her scroll out, balancing it in one hand as she held onto the microphone with the other. Professor Ozpin looked over her shoulder.

Skystar kept a smile on her face throughout. She was still smiling as she cried out, "And that is all selections made, no take backs, no changing your mind, it is done! And so, without further ado … those of you who watched the announcement of competing teams will remember that we did Shade Academy first and Beacon last. We're going to reverse that order today and announce the Beacon students in alphabetical order, we have … from Team Jugular: Jessica Tubal and Lance Gobham!" She paused to allow some cheering from those who had been impressed by JGLR in the first round, then went on. "From Team Ichor: Iris Marilla and Castor Olympus. From Team Wisteria: Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry!"

There were more cheers for the WWSR duo, but also more booing as well, which Skystar affected to ignore.

"From Team Sapphire," she went on, "Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos!"

Even more cheers for them, obviously, and fewer — although not none — boos. Some people started singing the Mistralian song, but Skystar's voice overrode them easily.

"And from Team Iron: Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie!"

Ruby was amongst those cheering that announcement, raising her hands in the air as she whooped. "Go get 'em, sis!"

Nora reached in front of her and ruffled Ruby's hair.

Skystar's smile became a little broader for a second. "And now, the Atlas teams beginning with Team Funky: Flint Koal and Neon Katt!"

There were some pretty loud cheers for them; one match, and Neon had already made herself a fan favourite.

"Team Rosepetal," Skystar cried, and Rainbow swallowed involuntarily. "Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil!"

Rainbow glanced again at Ciel's face. Her expression was frozen, as though she couldn't quite believe what they'd done. Rainbow could hardly believe it, and it had been her idea.

"Team Sabre: Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak!" Skystar announced. "And Team Tsunami: Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer!"

Trixie swept her hat off her head as she bowed in acknowledgement of the cheers that fell on her like snow.

By now, the faces of all the competing Beacon and Atlas students, plus their names, had appeared on a holographic board behind Skystar.

"And now for Haven Academy," Skystar said. "Beginning with Team Auburn: Arslan Altan and Bolin Hori!"

She paused a moment for the applause, and then had to pause for a bit longer because there was a lot of applause, and singing. Eventually, Skystar began to speak over it to announce, "Team Ball: Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus!"

There was less applause for them, but Skystar waited a few seconds for it nonetheless. "Team Volcano: Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward the Younger! And Team Sun: Sun Wukong and Neptune Vasilias!"

As the faces of Sun and Neptune appeared on the board, Rainbow couldn't help but notice that a lot of team leaders had put themselves through in spite of what Professor Ozpin had said.

Of course, she was one of them, so who was she to talk?

"And of course, last but not least, the teams from Shade Academy!" Skystar declared. “Team Gear: Elektra Fury and Ariadne Guimet.

“From Team Sugar: Uxbridge Scot and Alexander Fourprong.

"And from Team Umber: Umber Gorgoneion and Reap Matthias!"

She stopped and turned to the board, gesturing towards it. "And there they are, our second round contenders! I'm sure you all have your favourites, but let's just take a moment to appreciate all of them. They've done so well already, and the entire point of this whole festival is to come together in celebration, so … well done to everyone for today and good luck for everyone for tomorrow. And so, without further ado: let's have the second round match-ups!"

There was a murmur of anticipation from the crowd and from the gathered students as the names and faces disappeared. Some of them reappeared, then disappeared again, flickering in and out of sight as the computer made its inscrutable decisions.

The faces of Sunset and Pyrrha were the first to appear, opposite the faces of Trixie and Starlight.

"Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon's Team Sapphire against Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Atlas' Team Tsunami!" Skystar announced, as cheers from Atlas warred against the cheering from Beacon and from Mistral.

Rainbow winced. That was really bad luck for Trixie and Starlight; there was no way around it. Against most other teams, Trixie could have made it into the final eight — Starlight would have been a better choice, but there was no way she was even going into the two on two except out of affection for Trixie — but against Sunset and Pyrrha?

She wouldn't say that they had absolutely no chance … but their chances weren't great.

The next match to be revealed also pitted Beacon students against Atlas.

"Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon's Team Wisteria against Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas' Team Sabre!" Skystar announced.

Behind her, Rainbow heard, or thought she heard, Sabine let out a little cheer of satisfaction. She might have been imagining it, because there was a lot of cheering, and a lot of booing too, but she resolved to talk to her about it after they were done here.

Thankfully, the next match-up to appear on the board didn't involve any Atlas teams, pitting Pyrrha's friend Arslan and her teammate against the two Beacon students from Team JGLR, Jessica and Lance. Flint and Neon got lucky and were paired against one of the Shade teams, the Team GEAR pair, while Sun and Neptune also got lucky being pitted against the two from Team SUGA.

Rainbow found herself glancing towards Team YRBN; after all, there weren't many teams left who hadn't been assigned a match already.

She wasn't looking forward to putting Blake in that position.

Rainbow let out a sigh of relief when Yang and Nora's faces appeared and the faces of Rainbow and Ciel were nowhere to be seen.

"Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Beacon's Team Iron versus Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus of Haven's Team Ball!" Skystar declared.

Which meant, with only two teams left, that Rainbow and Ciel were going up against the last remaining Haven team.

"Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil of Team Rosepetal of Atlas against Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward the Younger of Haven's Team Volcano!" Skystar announced to the applause of the crowd.

Rainbow looked to her right, where the Haven students were formed up. She had a bit of a hard time spotting the Team VLCA duo; they looked pretty nondescript apart from the name of the guy they were putting forward.

Not that Rainbow was underestimating them, of course, but … could have been worse. Could have been a lot worse.

"And there you have it!" Skystar said. "Our second round matches all lined up for tomorrow. Which means that is that from us for tonight. If you're here for the festival in person, have a great night; if you're competing, then have a great night but also get some rest; and if you're watching the live coverage, then we hope to see you back here at ten AM, Vale time, for the start of the matches. Until then: goodnight!"

The giant screens all around the arena all turned off; the coverage was over for the day. When Rainbow had been a kid, they'd followed the first day's festival coverage with the premiere of a new show they really wanted everyone to watch; she hadn't checked the TV schedule to see if they were doing that this year.

Anyway, whatever they were doing or weren't doing, the coverage was over, and they were all free now to do as they liked. The central hexagon, with Skystar and Professor Ozpin on it, was starting to come down.

Rainbow turned her head as Blake approached her.

"I thought I was going to have to watch you fight Yang for a second there," Blake said.

Rainbow grinned. "Yeah, it would have been awkward watching me best your team leader—"

"I heard that!" Yang yelled.

Rainbow sniggered. As the student body broke up, heading for the exits, Rainbow spotted Team SABR out of the corner of her eye.

"Excuse me a second," she said to Blake and turned away from her, walking quickly to catch up with Team SABR. "Yo, Sabine, wait up!"

Team SABR were a rarity on Atlas, and amongst all the academies from what Rainbow had seen, in being an entirely faunus team.

Sabine Silverband was a sable faunus, with a matte black tail emerging from between her legs to curl around one of her ankles. She was dressed in a black as matte as her tail, a black dress with a white jacket over the top, but even the jacket had a black fur collar. A pair of silver bracelets dangled from her wrists over a pair of glossy black gloves, and her boots were black, high-heeled, and topped with silver. She wore a necklace of ice dust crystals around her neck. Her hair was as black as her tail and worn long, bound into a braid that fell down behind her until it met her tail, while her eyes were as icy blue as the dust around her neck.

Aaron Moore was a mole faunus with a pair of digging claws emerging from out of his hands. He wore thick brown leather overalls over a blue shirt and a red kerchief tied around his neck. He was bald, with a large, round face and eyes that seemed set into such a permanent squint that it was hard to say what colour they were.

Bella Roseye was a badger faunus, and like Aaron, she had claws on the ends of her fingers, although they didn't look like they were as long as her teammate’s. Her eyes were as red as her name, and blind besides; she used a sort of assistive VI to see for her by transmitting infrared images directly to her brain. At least, that was how Rainbow thought it worked. She was the tallest of the team by a foot and a half in spite of Sabine's heels, being a giant of a woman standing over seven feet tall, and a lot of that seven feet being muscle too. She wore a black robe and a white headdress that covered all of her head bar the face, but underneath the robe, Rainbow could see hints of copper-coloured armour on her arms.

Reynard Kerak was a fox faunus with a bushy red tail and hair of the same colour to match, which he wore long and untidy, falling down around his face with no order, rhyme, or reason. He had a nasty scar on his cheek from an ursa's claw that had only just missed one of his green eyes. A lot like Starlight, he wore Atlesian infantry armour, but unlike her, he had painted his white, save for the thick stripe of blood red running down the centre of the chest and stomach.

Sabine stopped and turned, and the rest of her team stopped and turned with her.

"Rainbow Dash," she said, in a tone that was mostly neutral but sounded like it was edging just a little bit towards dislike. Rainbow couldn't think what she'd done to give Sabine reason to dislike her … maybe Sabine was upset that Rainbow couldn't remember what she'd done?

"Something we can help you with?" Sabine asked.

"Uh, yeah, maybe," Rainbow murmured, scratching the back of her head because this was … kind of awkward. "So … you're going up against Weiss Schnee, huh?"

Sabine grinned. "Oh, yeah. Sometimes, fortune does smile on us."

"You sound very happy about it," Rainbow observed.

"My only regret is that this didn't happen in the first round," Sabine declared. "When we all could have shared in kicking the asses of that whole racist team of hers."

Her teammates murmured their wordless agreement.

"'Racist team'? Come on, guys," Rainbow implored. "Weiss isn't her father, and she's not a racist."

"Her name is Schnee," Reynard spat.

"You don't get to choose the name you're born with," Rainbow replied.

"You get to choose to swan around in tiaras purchased with the blood of our people," Reynard growled.

"After what has come out, after what you found," Bella said, "how can you defend her?"

"Pretty easily, since she has nothing to do with it," Rainbow said sharply. "How can you all blame her?"

"Because I had an uncle in one of those slave camps!" Sabine spat. "An uncle I haven't seen since I was three years old; they told us he was dead. We mourned for him, my parents mourned for him … now he is back with the letters 'SDC' burned into his face, and she, the Schnee princess herself, pampered by the suffering of so many faunus, swans about, struts here and there, competes for glory in the Vytal Festival? If there was any justice, if she had any shame, she would burn her fine clothes and wander Remnant naked, begging for forgiveness from every faunus she came across—"

"Gods, Sabine!" Rainbow spat.

"I don't have the power to make her do that," Sabine went on, "but I do have the power to end her tournament in painful humiliation, and I intend to make the most of it."

"For something her father did?" Rainbow demanded. "For something that her father's company did? You've got a right to be angry, but not with Weiss. Weiss has helped faunus in need, she was down on Low Town with me and Blake, she … she's a friend to Atlas, and she's a friend to me too, so I'm asking, please, just … keep it to the spirit of the tournament, okay?"

Sabine folded her arms. "Oh, well, if the great Rainbow Dash asks, how can we little people possibly refuse?"

Rainbow scowled, her ears drooping down into her iridescent hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re a house faunus, Dash, and you always have been!" Sabine snapped. "General Ironwood's loyal fireside dog—"

"I am no one's dog!" Rainbow growled.

"Then why are you coming over here telling me, telling all of us, that we aren't allowed to be angry?" Sabine demanded. "That we're not allowed to want even a little payback?" She shook her head. "When I found out that you had been the one to uncover all of this, I thought that maybe you'd changed. But I see that you're still the same bootlicker that you always were."

"Says who?" Rainbow demanded. "You? Who made you God of Animals so that you can tell me that I'm not enough of a faunus?"

"A real faunus wouldn't be standing up for a Schnee over her own kind, after all they've done to us," Sabine declared.

"I don't know if real Atlas students would be sounding like the White Fang, either," Rainbow muttered.

Sabine scoffed. "You got to show the world those SDC brands and then go home and feel righteous afterwards. I have to go home and see it on my uncle's face. You don’t have to be White Fang to see that there’s something rotten in this kingdom. You have to be stupid not to.” She turned away, and walked away with her tail up, shaking back and forth.

The rest of her team followed her. Reynard gave Rainbow a dirty look as he went past.

Rainbow, on the other hand, didn't go anywhere. She just stood there, thinking. Thinking not that Sabine might be right, but … between Twilight asking her if she was becoming too much of a faunus, the faunus telling her that she wasn't enough of one, where did that leave her?

Where did that leave Blake? If this was Rainbow's bed, then she would lie on it, but Blake … Blake deserved better.

Not that she would understand this if Rainbow tried to talk to her about it.

And yet, at the moment, as a result of Sabine's words ringing in her ears, it was all that she could really think about right now.

Not enough of a faunus to be a faunus, not angry enough, not desperate for justice.

Too much of a faunus to be a good Atlesian. Too aware of the problems and the injustices, not able to shut up about them.

Neither fish nor fowl.

Rainbow found that she didn't want to talk to Blake right now, or Twilight, or her friends, or anyone else. She just … she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

And so she took her thoughts away, without a word to anyone.

Rainbow took herself up, all the way up, to the eaves of the Colosseum, up above the docking pads where the skybuses were starting to ferry people down to Beacon below.

She was about level with the private boxes, although getting to where she was from there wasn't easy; the stairs and elevators were designed to take you down, not out to where Rainbow sat amongst the struts and the support beams. It was like an attic, except that it came with a view.

It came with maybe the second best view in all of Remnant, Rainbow thought as she sat, looking out, with Beacon below and the whole of Vale spread out before her. She could see everything, all the way to the Green Line and beyond. Heck, she thought she could even see Mountain Glenn from up here, a dark and shadowy patch, a place not to go amidst a vista of inviting wonders. A place beyond the borders of mankind's territory here.

But apart from that, yes sir, it was quite a view. Especially now, at twilight, when the whole city was lit, and all the airships too.

"I can certainly see why you wanted to come up here," Lady Belladonna said as she ducked beneath a couple of support beams to approach Rainbow, although she didn't approach her all the way to the edge where Rainbow sat. "It's quite something."

Rainbow twisted around, climbing carefully up onto her feet. "Ma'am? What are you—?"

"Blake thinks from your sudden exit that you want to be alone right now," Lady Belladonna said. "She might be right, but I know from my greater experience," — she smiled playfully — "that the times when we want to be alone are often the times when we shouldn't be."

Rainbow hesitated. "I … appreciate this, ma'am, but … you don't need to concern yourself with me. You should … celebrate with Blake—"

"I think I'd only cramp her style with Sun and all her friends," Lady Belladonna replied. "And I wouldn't want to do that all the time, now would I? No, I think that the best thing I can do for Blake is … well, this." She paused a moment. "You're Blake's best friend, and without you, I wouldn't know where she was or that she was even alive." She grinned. "You brought me into your life; I'm afraid you're stuck with my meddling ways until I return to Menagerie."

Rainbow snorted. "Well, if I've only got myself to blame, ma'am." She walked away from the edge, walking closer to Lady Belladonna. "Ma'am, can I ask you something? Adam, did you know about his…" She waved one hand in front of her eye.

Lady Belladonna's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"A scar," Rainbow said. "A brand on his face. An SDC brand."

Lady Belladonna stared at her. "So that's why he never took off his mask."

"I take it that's a no, ma'am," Rainbow said.

"I'm afraid that Adam would never have trusted me or Ghira with something like that," Lady Belladonna said. "Did … did Blake know?"

"Yes," Rainbow replied, her voice getting a little hoarse. "Yes, ma'am, she did. Ma'am … can I ask, did you ever get angry?"

"About?"

"Faunus rights?" Rainbow said. "You and Blake's dad always supported peaceful protest, but … did you ever want to just join Sienna Khan in smashing stuff up?"

"Rainbow Dash," Lady Belladonna said, concern creeping into her voice. "What's this all about?"

Rainbow sighed. "The team that Weiss Schnee has been drawn against for the two on two round is a faunus team, and they're angry. I tried to … I asked them not to take it out on Weiss, because it's not her fault, but ... it seems I'm not a real faunus. I'm—"

"A house faunus?" Lady Belladonna suggested.

Rainbow's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"Sienna said the same thing to me, once, near the end, when she was on the verge of taking over the movement," Lady Belladonna said. "I was a house faunus, I was a mongrel, the humans could wave a ham in front of me, and I'd chase it all over Anima."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose.

"Don't ask," Lady Belladonna said. "Sienna was very angry that day. Ghira had managed, after much patient effort and wooing of the Mistralian Councillor Gracchus, to get a motion tabled on land reform that would have granted agricultural tenants greater rights: protection from eviction, that sort of thing. The rest of the Council voted it down. It was … a bitter blow. Months of effort wasted. Sienna wanted to go out into the fields and start burning the great estates, to terrify the bailiffs and the rent collectors until they hid beneath their beds and dared not stir abroad. I pointed out that they would loose huntsmen on us, and Sienna … well, she lost it with me.

"And the truth is, the answer to your question is … yes, I was angry too. The whole business was intensely frustrating." She smiled. "Fortunately, Sienna was kind enough to offer me a healthy outlet for my frustration. I hit her in the face with a dinner tray."

Rainbow laughed. "Seriously, ma'am?"

"She may have been my boss at one time, but I wasn't going to let her talk to me like that," Lady Belladonna said. She reached out and brushed her fingers over Rainbow's ears; it tickled a little bit. "You are a faunus, a child of the Shallow Sea, and no one — but no one — has the right to deny you that, to tell you that you're not behaving right, that you don't feel the right or sufficient passions, that you don't want the right things. Not for any reason. You are a faunus, it is your birthright to be one of us, and that is not something that any gatekeeper can take away from you."

"You make it sound like an honour," Rainbow said.

Lady Belladonna shrugged. "Just because others see it as a mark of shame doesn't mean that we must."

Rainbow chuckled. "I'll have to introduce you to Neon Katt sometime; you'd get along like a house on fire." She paused and looked away from Lady Belladonna for a second or two. "What they said … well, it wouldn't have bothered me so much before I met Blake, but now … Blake has, or rather, since meeting Blake, I … I've become more … aware? Of … you know." She paused, her ears drooping. "It makes my friends uncomfortable."

Lady Belladonna's ears drooped, whether in sympathy or because she was genuinely upset, Rainbow couldn't have said. "They told you this?"

"Not exactly, but … Twilight told me that she was worried I'd become less Atlesian."

"And what did you say?"

"That I was a faunus and an Atlesian, and that meant I would always be a little different compared to … a human."

Lady Belladonna nodded. "A reasonable answer, and a true one." She smiled. "Before you worry too much about your friends, remember that this change in you, the change that you've told me only happened this year when you met Blake, is new to them. You aren't the same person they met, and it may take a little getting used to. But by the same token, that doesn't mean that they'll reject the change or that they can't understand it if you explain it to them. Give them a chance before you assume you're fated for solitude."

Rainbow was quiet for a second. “You … you’re very wise, ma’am.”

Lady Belladonna chuckled. “Not everyone has always thought so, even my own daughter didn’t think so, but … I appreciate the attempt.”

“I mean it,” Rainbow said. “I was up here getting all hot and bothered and worried, and you … cut through it.”

“I’m older than you,” Lady Belladonna reminded her. “And age, and experience, bring a kind of wisdom that is all their own. Did you ever wonder, before you met Blake, about your friends? About whether or not they—?”

“No,” Rainbow said at once. “In fact … I got kind of annoyed with Blake for suggesting it, when we first met.”

Lady Belladonna smiled. “Then don’t start doubting them now,” she urged. “I may be the High Chieftainess of Menagerie, but that doesn’t mean that I want every faunus in Remnant to cut themselves off from all human contact, distrustful, suspicious. That way lies—”

“Sienna Khan?” Rainbow guessed.

“Or worse,” Lady Belladonna said. “You don’t have to choose. Blake doesn’t have to choose. No one has to choose. We can come together in understanding, Ghira always believed that, and I believed him. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re right about Weiss Schnee as well. Children lash out blindly in their frustration, taking their feelings out on anything and everything in reach; I think that if you’re old enough to bear arms into battle, then you should also be a little more mature than that. That girl doesn’t deserve to be tainted by her family’s actions any more than Blake and her ambitions deserve to be tainted by our failures.” She smiled. “And so, unless you really, really enjoy the view from up here, I would suggest that you go down and join your friends and remind yourself of where you belong. And put your foolish fellow Atlas students out of your mind. They don’t sound worth your time.”

Rainbow snorted. “No, ma’am, I guess they’re not.” She bowed her head. “Thank you, ma’am, again.”

“Well, I must confess to an ulterior motive,” Lady Belladonna replied. “I’m glad that Blake has a friend she can rely on, and I’m glad that it’s you.”

A smile pricked at the corners of Rainbow’s mouth. “Thanks for that too, ma’am. Now, if you’ll let me escort you down before I take your advice, I—” Her scroll went off. “Hold that thought for a moment, ma’am,” she said, as she got out her scroll and checked the caller ID.

It was Doctor Polendina calling.

Rainbow stared down at the scroll, her chest rising and falling.

I suppose I should be glad he waited this long.

“You look as though you’re preparing for battle,” Lady Belladonna observed.

“Hopefully not, ma’am, but you never know,” Rainbow said. She answered the call. “Good evening, Doctor.”

Rainbow was a little surprised — although she maybe shouldn't have been — when it wasn't only Doctor Polendina's face that appeared on her scroll, but the three faces of the remaining members of her team.

None of them looked particularly happy about that, although Ciel hid her discomfort best, as she so often did; Penny looked as though she was visibly trembling, in spite of what Rainbow thought was Ruby's hand upon her shoulder, the rest of Ruby Rose just out of view in the small screen window.

And, of course, in the bottom right-hand corner, the face of Doctor Polendina himself; he looked older than he had been when they were in Atlas — he was older, but he seemed to have aged a fair amount in a pretty short amount of time. It was around his eyes, and in them; there wasn't exactly more grey in his face, there wasn't more white in his hair, but in his eyes … his eyes looked older.

His voice was sharp, like a bayonet being slid between Rainbow's ribs. "Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil?"

"You were watching the second round picks, Doctor," Rainbow murmured.

"Of course I was watching!" Doctor Polendina yelled. "I watched everything—"

"You didn't call," Rainbow pointed out, making Twilight wince.

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. "And why should I do that? Penny has made it clear that my opinion means nothing to her."

"I found my semblance," Penny murmured.

Doctor Polendina ignored her. "But I never thought that the two of you would so brazenly … this is not what I agreed with Ironwood, and this is not what we discussed! How dare you? How dare you? I want to know whose idea this was, and I want to know right now!"

"It was mine," Rainbow said, because it was half-true and because regardless of how true it was or was not, it was her responsibility as team leader to take the hit for things like this.

Doctor Polendina stared up at her from out of the screen of the scroll. "Yours?" he repeated. "This was your idea?"

"Yes, sir," Rainbow said softly.

"It was your idea to deny Penny her rightful place—"

"With all due respect, sir, I have denied Penny nothing," Rainbow interrupted. "Nothing, since Penny ran away to Vale, and I persuaded General Ironwood to let her stay here with her friends — this isn't about asking for gratitude by the way, Penny, don't worry about that," she added quickly, before continuing on. "Everything that Penny really wants, we have given her."

"Not anymore," Doctor Polendina declared. "This tournament—"

"Is what you wanted," Penny said, her voice quiet, but it was a quiet that was like … like the still small voice in Ciel's holy book — Rainbow had took a look at it a couple of times; she had trouble with the language, but there were parts she could sort of remember — the one that could be heard over the hurricane and the earthquake and the snowstorm tempest. Penny's voice could be heard in spite of how quiet she was. "Not what … I wanted."

Doctor Polendina blinked. "Not … not what you wanted. But … I thought … the fame, the glory—"

"Don't matter to me as much as … as being happy," Penny replied. "It might have been fun, it might even have been wonderful, but…" She trailed off, falling silent for a few seconds. She glanced away, off screen, at Ruby, probably, or maybe at her whole team. "It doesn't mean everything to me, and I won't get … it didn't seem that important in the end."

"But it matters to these two who are going to be holding stop signs in Mantle for the rest of their careers?" Doctor Polendina asked.

Penny frowned. "Rainbow and Ciel aren't going to be holding stop signs in Mantle for the rest of their careers."

"We'll see about that," Doctor Polendina muttered. "Penny, this … this was—"

"It's done, Doctor," Twilight pointed out quietly. "The submissions have been made, and they're final."

"My legacy," Doctor Polendina whispered. "My accomplishment. You … people were supposed to see what I had … even if they didn't know that I'd done it."

"You…" Again, Penny glanced off-screen. "You made me," Penny said. "Whatever I do next, everything I do, even if it's where the TV cameras can't see it, that's your legacy, isn't that enough?"

Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. "Would it have hurt you so much to do me this one thing?"

Seriously? Seriously? Come on, Doc, I know that you're ill and dying, but … come on!

Penny's eyes widened. Her lip trembled. Her mouth opened — before a hand, a small pale hand, reached in from off-screen.

Penny's corner of the screen turned black.

"Penny?" Doctor Polendina cried. "Penny, what … where has she gone?"

"Somewhere more pleasant, one might hope, which might be almost anywhere," Ciel murmured. "Doctor, you have the right to your anger, you even have both right and power alike to ruin the both of us — at the very least, you may attempt it. But to speak to Penny in that way … was unbecoming, at the least. Though Penny is your child, she is no more bound to service to your interests than any other child." She paused. "Penny found her semblance today, as she attempted to point out to you, if you had had the ears to listen. She discovered the expression of herself, another part of who she is. That … is a wondrous thing, far moreso than any tournament triumph. If you had wished to speak to her about it, then I am sure that Penny would have welcome the discussion."

"I…" Doctor Polendina closed his eyes. "I only wanted her to excel, and to be seen to excel."

"Penny does excel," Ciel replied. "She excels at being herself, and in being herself, she is well-beloved and well-regarded, welcomed into the embrace of good company, not to mention that she is not without skill as a huntress for all that you will not see it again in this one tournament. That is enough, Doctor. She is enough.

"Let it be enough, for God's sake, while you still have time."

Joy (New)

Joy

Penny stared down at her scroll.

The scroll that Ruby had just disconnected from Penny’s call with her father.

Pyrrha found that she could quite understand why — his attitude had been rather obnoxious — but at the same time … it might be said to have been an overstepping of the bounds.

Of course, only Penny could say that for certain, one way or the other.

Penny turned her head a little to look at Ruby.

“I … I thought,” Ruby murmured. “It wasn’t right, what he was saying to you. The way he was talking to you. I didn’t think … I didn’t think that you should have to force yourself to listen to that.”

Penny didn’t reply. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even keep looking at Ruby. She looked down, at the metal floor of the Colosseum. Around them, the great crowds swirled, moving according to their own peculiar rhythms, totally ignoring Penny just as Penny was ignoring them.

Just as they were all, the four of them, ignoring the crowds, their focus upon Penny.

Sunset put a hand on Penny’s shoulder. Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, recalling — who could forget? — that Sunset was often the voice for reconciliation in these matters, for understanding … Pyrrha was not altogether certain that would be welcomed by either Penny or Ruby in such circumstances.

Perhaps Sunset realised that too, for she said nothing. She simply had a hand on Penny’s shoulder, standing silently behind her.

Pyrrha herself took a step closer to Penny. “He … had no right to speak thus,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “To ignore the news about your semblance was boorish to say the least, but more than that … you are your own person, not bound to alter your actions for their desires.”

Penny didn’t respond. She stood as still as any of the statues of Pyrrha’s ancestors in the garden of the Nikos house in Mistral, if a little more meekly posed than any of them.

“Penny?” Jaune asked.

Penny’s eyes flickered towards Ruby for a second. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Ruby let out a sigh of relief it had not been obvious that she was holding in. “You’re welcome, Penny.”

Penny didn’t look at Ruby, or at any of them.

“I thought that … I hoped that … I didn’t realise that it would matter that much to him.”

“It’s not your fault, Penny,” Ruby insisted. “You’ve done the right thing.”

“Have I?” Penny asked.

“Have you done what you thought was right, for you?” Ruby replied.

“Yes,” Penny said. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then you’ve done the right thing,” Ruby declared. “And you can’t beat yourself up for it.”

Penny raised her head, looking around at the four members of Team SAPR, a smile slowly spreading across her face as she reached out to pull both Ruby and Pyrrha into an embrace, squeezing them tightly with one arm each, holding them close against her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so lucky to have run into you!”

Pyrrha chuckled, despite how tight Penny was holding her. “The good fortune was ours, Penny,” she said, “or, at the very least, we share in it.”

Penny released them. “So, what happens now?”

“The night’s still young,” Ruby said. “So we can do … whatever we want, pretty much.” She paused. “What do we want to do?”

“There’s the carnival down in Vale,” Sunset said. “That Mistralian thing that Arslan is going to be at, we could get drinks at the Iceberg Lounge, or we could just have some more fun at the fairgrounds. Perhaps we should wait until we get down to Beacon, and we can see what Amber wants to do as well.”

“That is a good point,” Pyrrha murmured. Personally, she was not too enthused about the idea of the Mistralian exhibition, since she suspected it would be a great deal that she already knew a great deal about, but if everyone else’s interest tended in that direction, then she would not oppose them.

Not least because she doubted that the will of the majority would tend in that direction.

“But,” she added, “there is a possibility that my mother might wish for us to dine with her tonight. I should like to check with her, if that’s alright with you.”

“By all means,” Sunset replied. “It would be discourteous not to, in the circumstances.”

“Yes, quite,” Pyrrha said softly, and now, it was her turn to get out her scroll, even as Penny put hers away.

Pyrrha opened up the device, and called her mother. She did not, as Penny’s father had done, include the other members of her team in the call, but she felt and saw Sunset move to stand closer to her nonetheless.

Their shoulders were practically touching.

The crowds continued to move around them, not even really glancing Pyrrha’s way.

I suppose they’ve had their bellyful of me today already. I have become a stale sight in their eyes.

If only that would happen more often.

Mother answered fairly swiftly, her face appearing on the screen. “Pyrrha,” she said. “I was not expecting you to call.”

“Were you not?” Pyrrha asked. “You watched the second round draws, I take it?”

“Of course,” Mother said quickly. “Your opponents, Miss Trixie Lulamoon and Miss Starlight Glimmer of Atlas’ Team Tsunami, are they known to you at all?”

“They are, my lady,” Sunset declared. “Besides being our classmates, they … did me a singular good service not too long ago. It is not too much to say that, without their help, I might not be here.”

Mother’s eyebrows rose a little. “Indeed, Miss Shimmer? Did they do this service for your teammates also?”

“Alas, no, my lady, I was … on my own, at the time, or at least without the rest of Team Sapphire. It is … a story somewhat awkward to recall.”

Quite, Pyrrha thought, recalling their concern during Sunset’s unexplained absence. Magic or not, you could have let us know.

“I see,” Mother murmured. “Leave that for now, then; I take it from what you have said that they are skilled?”

“Starlight has a semblance that lets her take other semblances, or just stop you from using yours,” Ruby piped up.

Mother blinked. “That is … quite a semblance,” she said. “A somewhat unnerving semblance, I must say. I didn’t see Miss Glimmer using it in her match today.”

“Some people do like to keep their semblances a secret, Mother,” Pyrrha reminded her gently.

“Yes, that is undoubtedly true,” Mother conceded. “And Miss Lulamoon?”

“May seem to play the fool upon occasion,” Sunset said. “And in close combat, she is not the best trained or equipped, but yes, she too is far from unskilled. I would say they are amongst Atlas’ best.”

“And you are already devising a plan to best the best, I hope,” Mother said.

“It is germinating in my mind as we speak, my lady,” Sunset said. Pyrrha had no idea whether or not that was actually true.

“In the meantime, Mother,” she said, “I called to see if you had any plans for this evening?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Mother replied. “Lord Wong has invited me to dine with himself and his wife.” She smirked, ever so slightly but quite clearly nonetheless. “So you and your friends may amuse yourselves as you no doubt wished to without my interference.”

“That … that was not…” Pyrrha trailed off. “Thank you, Mother.”

“But take care not to exhaust yourselves before tomorrow’s battle,” Mother admonished. “I would have you both well-rested for the struggle with these Atlesians.”

Sunset bowed her head. “We will, of course, take care of ourselves in preparation for the contest to come, my lady.”

“In that case,” Mother said, “I wish you a moderate and tempered joy of the evening. Goodnight, Pyrrha. Miss Shimmer, Mister Arc, Miss Rose.”

“Goodnight, Mother,” Pyrrha said as she hung up the call.

She folded up her scroll. “So, the skybus then, as Sunset suggested?”

“Sounds fine by me,” Jaune said.

“And me, too,” added Ruby. “If … Penny, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Penny declared. “I’m fine. Let’s … let’s go!”

There were queues at all of the docking platforms waiting to take people down off the coliseum back to Beacon, with all of the events of the day concluded and nobody having any reason to remain on the coliseum any more, but by the same token, there were also a lot of skybuses, docking at every platform to fill up with students and spectators and ferry them down to Beacon below, and they must have been scarcely waiting to deposit their loads before they rose up into the sky once more. All of which meant that, although Team SAPR and Penny had to join the back of a queue at their nearest docking pad, they were not actually waiting very long as the queue moved quickly.

Soon it was their turn. They did not sit down, since the skybus was so full and there were others who deserved or required seats more than they did, but stood against the windows as they had the last time they descended downwards, after watching Team YRBN’s match against Team BRNZ.

“I don’t suppose Yang mentioned what she had planned for the evening?” Pyrrha asked.

“She and Nora are going to the carnival in Vale,” Ruby answered.

Pyrrha nodded. “And Ren?”

“Oh, Ren’s going too; he’s just not as enthusiastic about it,” Ruby explained.

“What is the carnival?” asked Penny.

“Why don’t we wait until Amber’s here, then Ruby only has to explain it once,” Sunset suggested, a little grin playing across her face.

Penny covered her mouth with both hands as she giggled. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Ruby assured her. “But … Sunset has a point; maybe we should leave it.”

The skybus was full, but it was not quite so full as to stop a few of the children running up and down on either side of the rows of seats, yelling and shrieking in delight as they whacked one another with a variety of rolled up fliers, painted cardboard tubes, and toy weapons — including a couple of toy Milós.

“Those are not supposed to be used to strike people,” Pyrrha murmured. “It says so on the packaging.”

Sunset looked up at her, a bemused look on her face that looked to be verging into outright amusement.

“Someone could get hurt,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Or they could break the weapon.”

“That’s for their parents to worry about,” Ruby said. “Nobody will thank us for interfering.”

“No,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “No, I’m sure you’re right.”

Soon they had landed at Beacon and were part of the great surge of passengers off the skybus and onto the illuminated docking pad. As they disembarked, Pyrrha could see that the left and rightmost docking platforms were being used by the skybuses down from Amity Arena, while at the central docking pad, a great skyliner had docked, ramp extended outwards to touch the platform, and was loading people up for the trip down into Vale. There was another queue for it on the docking pad, and from what she could see — albeit, there was some little distance separating them from the grounds — Beacon was a little less crowded with people than it had been earlier.

“Hey, kiddo!”

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby cried, dashing across the docking pad, leaving a trail of rose petals upon the black tarmac behind her as she raced towards her uncle, who ambled with his hands thrust into his pockets in her direction.

He pulled one hand out of said pockets and ruffled Ruby’s hair as she enveloped him in a hug.

“Did you watch the fight?” Ruby asked.

Qrow shrugged. “You were okay.”

“'Ok—' we won!” Ruby protested. “We won really well! We got a clean sweep! Did you get a clean sweep in your four on four?”

“Of course we did; what do you think we were, amateurs?” Qrow asked. He grinned. “But, okay, I guess you did a pretty good job.”

“Were you in the coliseum?” asked Ruby.

“Nah, I just watched it on TV.”

“Seriously?” Ruby asked. “You didn’t bother to come up to the arena, for me or Yang?”

“Does it matter where I watched it from as long as I watched it?” asked Qrow. “It’s just … I’m not crazy about the huge crowds up there.”

“Well … as long as you were watching, I guess,” Ruby mumbled, although the softness of her voice could not quite hide the disappointment. “Have you spoken to Yang?”

“Nah, I must have missed her,” Qrow said dismissively. “But there’s always tomorrow, right?”

“I guess,” Ruby muttered. “So, are you doing anything tonight? Apparently Doctor Oobleck’s DJing for old Beacon students.”

Qrow snorted. “Please. Like I’d go to something that lame.”

Ruby looked up at him. “You don’t have any old friends from school you want to say hi to?”

Qrow was silent for a second. “I’ll see you around, kiddo,” he said, turning away with a swish of his short red cape.

“Wait!” Ruby called. “If you’re not … maybe we could…” She glanced back at the rest of her team. “That would be okay, wouldn’t it?”

“Despite how you act sometimes, I don’t actually want to have you muzzled,” Sunset replied. “Do as you wish.”

Ruby nodded, and looked back at her uncle. “We could, I don’t know, play some video games? Like we used to?”

Qrow said nothing for a moment, looking at Ruby over his shoulder. Then a smile began to spread across his stubbled face. “Yeah. Okay, I’d like that. That … I’d like that a lot.”

Ruby let out a kind of squeaking sound as she said, “Okay then! Let’s go.” As she closed the distance between them, she looked back and mouthed ‘thank you.’

Pyrrha smiled as she watched the two of them walk away.

He may be a rather sad man, or gives that impression, but, at the same time, very fortunate in his family.

They gave Ruby and her uncle a bit of a head start before they, too, left the docking pad, and began to follow the path down towards Beacon itself. They met Amber about halfway there, accompanied by Dove and by Professor Goodwitch, who stood a little behind the other two, looming over them like … well, like a bodyguard, which she was.

“Hello, everyone,” Amber said, a bright smile upon her face as she approached them. “I hear you won.”

“We certainly did,” Sunset agreed. “And handily too. Good evening, Dove.”

Dove bowed his head. “Sunset.”

Pyrrha bowed. “Professor Goodwitch, thank you for taking care of Amber during our absence.”

“It was my pleasure, Miss Nikos, even as it is now my pleasure to … release Amber into your custody,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “Congratulations, all of you, upon your victory. And good luck to you, Miss Shimmer, and you, Miss Nikos, in the next round.”

“So you got your miracle this time,” Amber said.

Sunset frowned a little. “Excuse me?”

Professor Goodwitch coughed into one hand. “Well, I have a lot of work to do, so I’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves. Goodnight. Amber.” She turned away, her heels clicking against the stones of the path.

“Goodnight, Professor,” Pyrrha called to her.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that,” Amber murmured. She added, “We passed Ruby on the way, with Qrow.”

“Yeah, she’s going to hang out with her uncle,” Sunset explained, “while we still need to decide what we’re going to do tonight.”

Pyrrha began, “Although without Ruby—”

“Without Ruby, who’s going to explain what the carnival is?” asked Penny.

“Well, there may be some differences between Mistral and Vale, or between Vale and Atlas,” Pyrrha said, “but essentially, the carnival is an enormous street party held across the three nights of the tournament. There’s a parade, but it is somewhat irregular, and anyone can take part in it, dancing in the street, colourful costumes, music, juggling, and fire-breathing, that sort of thing.” She paused a moment. “When I was a little girl visiting Atlas, I found some of the costumes rather frightening, people dressed as grimm or as other horrors, but when the festival was held in Mistral six years ago, when I was a little older, I found it wasn’t nearly as frightening.”

“That sounds like fun,” Amber said. “Can we go there?”

“But we don’t have a full team, now that Ruby’s gone with her uncle,” Jaune pointed out.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “I was just about to stay, we need to have the full team assembled in order to escort you into Vale.”

“But there are three of you here,” Amber pointed out. “And Penny; surely, she’s as good as Ruby is.”

“I try,” Penny said, “but I’m not exactly sure.”

“More to the point, I’m not sure how Professor Ozpin would see the matter,” Sunset said. “He might agree with you, or he might not. The letter of his instructions on the matter were rather clear.”

Amber pouted. “Really?” she demanded. “So unless all four of you are here, it doesn’t matter about Penny or Blake or anyone else?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Sunset confirmed. “But don’t worry; remember, Pyrrha said that the carnival is held on more than one night. Tomorrow, we’ll speak to Ruby, and then we can all take you down to the carnival tomorrow night. And in the meantime, tonight, since Ruby’s absence rules out anything in Vale by the same logic, why don’t we take a turn around the fairgrounds? It feels like we didn’t get the chance before.”

“No, we didn’t really, did we?” Pyrrha said. “That would be fine by me.”

“And me,” Penny agreed.

Dove glanced at Amber, who nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely, too.”

“Then let’s do it,” Jaune said. “Where do we want to start?”

“Somewhere with stuffed animals,” Penny declared.

Sunset laughed. “Well, finding some of those shouldn’t be an issue.”

Amber and Dove fell in with them as they set off down the path. The crowds were a little thinner, but there were still plenty of drones zipping through the air just overhead, or else hovering only a little higher than the height of a person, cameras scanning the crowds even as the crowds thinned, harvesting footage for the news items on the end of the Vytal Festival. A couple of them pointed their cameras in the direction of Pyrrha and the others, although none of them lingered for too long.

They crossed the courtyard, and shortly after arrived at the fairgrounds, making their way between the stands to one particular stall, run by a pair of middle-aged men in straw hats and blue and white striped waistcoats. They both had red hair, streaked with white, and one had a bushy moustache covering his upper lip. Both were calling out to passers-by in mellifluent, fruity voices.

“Roll up, roll up, don’t be shy! You like prizes, we got prizes!” one of them called, gesturing with one hand to the row upon row of enticingly large stuffed animals

“Simply shoot down five cans to win a prize!” added the other man. “And from this range, you can hardly miss! Easiest game in the fairground!”

Team SAPR, Amber, and Dove began to drift in their direction, something that the two men didn’t miss.

“You! Yes, you!” called out the man without the moustache. “I’m sure that such highly skilled huntsmen and huntresses as yourself will have no trouble at all winning one of our fabulous prizes!”

“Hey, Dove,” Sunset said, “maybe you’d like to have a go, win something for Amber?”

“Um…” Dove hesitated, trailing off a little bit. “No,” he muttered. “No, thank you, I … no.”

Sunset frowned. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little bit peaky.”

Now that Sunset mentioned it, Dove did look a little unwell; his face was pale, and there was a slightly clammy or sweaty quality to his complexion, his face and hair alike so damp that it was as though he’d just run from Vale to catch up with them here. He was holding onto Amber’s hand, and holding it tightly too, holding it for dear life. Pyrrha could have understood that — he had almost lost her once, after all; if he held onto her for fear that she would vanish into thin air the moment that he let her go, well, what could be more natural than that? But at the same time, Pyrrha didn’t recall him holding Amber in that way before. He had been much more gentle with his touches.

But Amber didn’t seem to mind, so it was hardly Pyrrha’s place to comment on that. Unless it was a symptom of the sickness that appeared to have afflicted him.

“I’m fine,” Dove murmured. “I’m fine, really, there’s nothing wrong. I just…” He glanced at Amber. “Alright, I’ll give this game a try.”

“Fantastic!” cried the man with the moustache. “Only ten lien for five shots!”

Dove got out his wallet and handed over a small-value lien card.

“Thank you,” said the man without the moustache.

“And here you go,” added the man who possessed one as he took out a short-barreled rifle from underneath the counter, attached by a chain which ran out of sight beneath that same counter so that the gun couldn’t be taken just anywhere, and handed it to Dove. There was also a wire connecting the gun to some out of sight thing on the other side of the stand, and Pyrrha guessed that it was a hose to channel air into the rifle, since it didn’t use dust.

“And here,” the man with the moustache added, “are your five shots.” He deposited five small, soft-looking foam pellets, bullet shaped but rather too colourful to be made of metal, upon the counter.

Dove didn’t look ill as he got to work; in fact, he looked rather professional as he opened up the breach of the rifle and methodically loaded in the five soft foam bullets.

He snapped the breach shut and put the rifle to his shoulder.

Of course; he used to hunt back home, if I recall.

Dove pushed the rifle a little harder into his shoulder, looked down the sights, then fired rapidly, once, twice, three times, four, five shots barking out of his rifle, a rifle which barely moved as he pulled the trigger so well did he control the recoil.

The distance from rifle to the tin can targets was only ten feet at most; someone with less than half an hour’s training could have made those shots, and yet, Dove did not appear to hit a single thing. Of the four sets of five cans, all stacked up three below and two above, not a single can fell.

They were all still standing after Dove had fired his fifth and final round.

Dove lowered his rifle, and as he lowered it, he stared at all the stubbornly, resolutely still-standing cans. “I … I may be a little out of practice with a normal gun.”

“Mmm,” murmured the man without the moustache. “Well, don’t worry about it, sport; sometimes, these things just happen.”

“Here’s another ten lien,” Sunset said, putting the money card down with perhaps a little too much force. “Give the gun over, Dove.”

“Five more rounds,” said the man with the moustache as he produced five more of the colourful foam bullets. “Best of luck.”

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed as she watched Sunset load the rifle; her movements were not as precise as Dove’s, but she was every bit as quick — quicker even — despite the fact that there were not so many satisfying clicks or snaps as she opened or shut the weapon.

Like Dove before her, Sunset raised the rifle to her shoulder; the leather of her jacket squeaked a little as she did so. Sunset tossed her head, flipping some of her fiery hair out of the way, as she aimed down the sights.

Sunset stood still, letting the rifle rise and fall as she breathed in and out. Her breathing slowed, then stopped; the rifle went still.

BANG! Sunset fired, the muzzle flashing.

Not a single can fell.

Sunset breathed out heavily, then breathed in, then held her breath. She fired again, twice in quick succession.

Still, not a can fell.

Pyrrha frowned beneath her circlet. Slowly, she placed one hand into Jaune’s. She felt his fingers close about hers, which was very nice in itself, but was also nice in this particular instance as cover for the black outline that surrounded her hand as she probed at the tin cans with her polarity.

As Sunset fired twice more, Pyrrha groped at the cans with her semblance, finding that they were secured onto the shelves where they sat with magnets.

The easiest game in the fairground indeed.

It would be if you were more than common cheats, thieves, and con-artists!

Unfortunately, the scale being as small as it was, there was little point trying to get the authorities involved.

Sunset let out a wordless snort of irritation as she slammed the gun down onto the front of the stall. “The sights are off,” she declared.

“You know what they say about a bad workman and their tools,” said the man with the moustache. “Does anyone else think they might have better luck?”

Sunset scowled and turned around. “Show them, Pyrrha,” she said.

Pyrrha smiled with one corner of her mouth. “I, um, I’m afraid I’m a little too precious of my dignity to venture it on such a game as this,” she murmured, “but I think you should try again. I’ll pay if the money is an obstacle.”

Sunset snorted. “You’re a little too precious of your dignity, but you want me to dent mine even more than I already have?”

“Please, Sunset,” Pyrrha urged. “I really believe that your luck is about to change.”

Sunset stared at her, eyes narrowing a little.

The smile remained on Pyrrha’s face as she nodded encouragingly.

The corner of Sunset’s lip twitched in turn. “Okay,” she said softly. “But keep your money; I can afford another ten lien.” She produced another small-value money card from out of her jacket pocket and put it down. “Five more shots, if you please.”

“Here you go,” said the man without the moustache as he produced the extra rounds.

Sunset loaded, as quickly as before.

Pyrrha reached out with her Polarity, the touch of it lingering gently upon the cans, so that she could feel them without actually affecting them — yet.

Sunset bared her teeth and squeezed the trigger.

BANG! Sunset fired, and as she fired, Pyrrha gave the first can a firm nudge with her semblance, knocking it off its perch and onto the ground below.

The man with the moustache gasped in surprise. Sunset let out a sort of snigger of triumph.

BANG! She fired again, and another can fell. Sunset fired a third time, and Pyrrha pushed a third can down, and a fourth, and finally a fifth.

Sunset grinned as she set the rifle down. “Five cans,” she declared. “Now if I remember correctly, that means I get a prize, doesn’t it?”

The man without the moustache seemed to have been robbed of speech, but the man who had the moustache groaned.

“Take your pick,” they said.

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured, putting one hand on her hip as she stared at the row upon row of stuffed animals that all stared back at her with smiling faces: bears, rabbits, pandas, polar bears — distinguishable from the ordinary bears by being white instead of colourful — penguins, ponies, a whole host of stuffed creatures sat upon hooks, waiting for a liberator to come set them free.

“That one,” Sunset said, pointing to a pink winged unicorn with a horn of gold emerging from out of the midst of her teal mane, and multi-coloured wings with stripes of orchid and shades of blue which darkened towards the tips. “I’ll take that one.”

The man with the moustache practically threw it at her. “Thank you for playing,” he said sharply.

“My pleasure,” Sunset said, then turned crisply upon her toes and walked away, her tail swishing from side to side behind her.

The others turned to follow her. When they were a moderate distance away, Sunset turned and offered the large stuffed winged unicorn — it was larger than Sunset’s head — to Pyrrha. “I think this belongs to you,” she said.

Pyrrha fought to keep a straight face. “Why—?”

“You used your semblance on the cans, didn’t you?” Sunset asked.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Well … yes,” she admitted. “But I wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been using magnets to stop the cans from falling. The game was rigged so that nobody would win.”

“Why would someone do something like that?” asked Penny.

“Because they’re cheap?” suggested Jaune.

“You … you aren’t upset?” Pyrrha asked.

“Why would I be upset?” Sunset responded. “The only reason I needed your help is because they were cheating, like you said; now, do you want the alicorn or don’t you?”

Pyrrha smiled as she reached out with her free hand and wrapped her arm around the stuffed animal, pulling it out of Sunset’s unresisting grasp and pressing the soft felt against her cheek.

“I love it, Sunset,” she declared. “Thank you.”

“Rainbow Dash!” the voice of Jillian Khalisa rose above the hubbub of the crowds.

Rainbow groaned as she turned her face away and tried to hide said face behind one hand; she and Lady Belladonna had descended down out of the eaves and returned to the outer ring of the arena, where students and spectators alike were queuing up to board the skybuses carrying people down to Beacon. They had been walking around the circle to try and find the others, but considering that Jillian Khalisa had found them first, it might have been better to have just gotten aboard the nearest skybus and waited for Rainbow’s friends down on the ground at Beacon.

Lady Belladonna looked at her. “Do you know this person?” she asked anxiously.

“Unfortunately, I know who she is,” Rainbow muttered. “She’s a reporter; maybe you should step away in case—”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Lady Belladonna said quickly. “I’m not here to cause a scene, that’s true, but I’m not going to simply slink away and hide either. Besides, it’s been a while since I was involved in politics. This woman probably won’t even know who I am.”

It was Khalisa’s drone that appeared first, hovering above the heads of the crowds on the docking ring, followed shortly by the reporter herself, wearing a dress of the same style as she’d worn the last time, right down to that golden ladder-thing running down the centre of it, but with more red this time and a lot less blue.

“Rainbow Dash,” she repeated. “Jillian Khalisa, Northern News—”

“Yeah, I remember,” Rainbow said.

She didn’t introduce Lady Belladonna, because she didn’t think that Lady Belladonna would really want to be introduced like that, and Jillian Khalisa didn’t even look at her. Her attention was wholly fixed on Rainbow Dash.

“May I have a word with you,” she said, “without General Ironwood hovering nearby, dictating what I can and cannot ask?”

Rainbow hesitated for a second, because Khalisa was absolutely right about General Ironwood being nowhere to be found, but so long as she didn’t feel like she had to answer every question and remembered how to say ‘no comment,’ then she should be okay.

And if she wasn’t, then Rainbow had a hunch that Lady Belladonna might step in for her, or at least step in to tell her when she ought to keep her mouth shut.

“That … would be fine, ma’am,” she said, clasping her hands together behind her back.

She clicked her fingers, and the drone hovering over her shoulder began to shine a bright light into Rainbow’s face, making her flinch away from it for a moment before her eyes got used to it.

“Rainbow Dash, congratulations, first of all; that was a fight well fought,” Khalisa said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “My whole team did their best.”

“A good fight,” Khalisa repeated. “And a necessary fillip for Atlas after the two defeats that preceded your victory. Why do you think Atlas performed so poorly today?”

Rainbow blinked. “With four out of eight teams through to the second round, I wouldn’t say that we did poorly; I’d say that we performed … averagely.”

“Some would say that an average performance from Atlas is a poor performance,” Khalisa replied. “Don’t you think that people back home were expecting more from Atlas Academy? Don’t you think they have a right to expect more?”

“I don’t know what people back home were expecting,” Rainbow replied. “I don’t think they have a right to expect more than they’ve gotten, which is the best effort of every team selected so far. We’ve got a lot of good students at our school, but so do Beacon and Haven and even Shade Academy; there’s no shame in losing to any of them. That’s just the way it is sometimes.”

“You don’t think that your fellow Atlas students were put off by the hostility they’ve received in Vale recently?”

“You’d have to ask them that, ma’am, but we weren’t,” Rainbow replied.

Khalisa’s expression was hard to read. Rainbow didn’t think that she’d given her anything, but at the same time, she didn’t look upset about what she had or hadn’t got either.

“What was it like to win?” she asked.

Rainbow was so surprised by the question that she didn’t say anything at first; she just stood there, staring. It took a couple of seconds for her to recover enough to say, “It was pretty awesome. I mean, Team Jasmine fought a good match, they were good huntsmen and huntresses, it just wasn’t their day, but … yeah, it was pretty awesome to win; thanks for asking.”

Khalisa snorted. She clicked her fingers, and the light on her drone died. “Despite what you might think, I am rooting for Atlas,” she said, and then turned away, pushing through the queues and crowds, maybe in search of more students to interview.

“She didn’t seem so bad,” Lady Belladonna observed.

“Mmm, that was her being pleasant, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “She and Northern News root for Atlas in everything, if you take my meaning.”

Lady Belladonna’s eyes narrowed. “You mean—”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, it’s like that. She doesn’t really like anyone who isn’t from Atlas, she doesn’t like Mantle, and I don’t think she’s really very fond of the faunus either. She kept a lid on it just now, but I’ve heard worse.”

“She sounds charming,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “But I think you got away with it on this occasion, helped by some largely pretty innocuous questions.”

“Except for that one about the hostile atmosphere,” Rainbow said. “As if she wanted someone to tell her that Vale had put our students off their game.”

“And you don’t think that it has?” Lady Belladonna replied softly.

“If it had, then we wouldn’t have had four wins, ma’am,” Rainbow replied. “It’s like I said: sometimes, the other team is just a little better.”

“Not having ever trained as a huntress, I’ll have to take your word for that,” Lady Belladonna said. She paused for a moment. “I spoke to your friend Councillor Cadance today.”

Rainbow glanced at Lady Belladonna as she resumed walking. “Really, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes,” Lady Belladonna confirmed. “I was her guest for the matches. Although, of course, we paid full attention to yours and Blake’s fights.”

“I’m glad to hear it, ma’am,” Rainbow said, “but when we weren’t dazzling you, am I allowed to ask what you talked about?”

Lady Belladonna smiled, although she didn’t show her teeth as she was smiling. “We talked about a few things,” she said, “including a huntsman academy on Menagerie.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Lady Belladonna nodded. “Well, why not?” she asked. “Is there any reason why Menagerie shouldn’t have a huntsman Academy when Vale, Atlas, Mistral, and Vacuo do?”

“Does Menagerie have grimm, ma’am?”

“A few, although they tend to stick to the interior, where we don’t go,” Lady Belladonna said. “But they do exist, and we could use a few more huntsmen, I suppose. Or they could send money home to Menagerie. I have to admit that we could use the lien. Or … well, it might just be nice, mightn’t it, to have teams representing an academy on Menagerie competing in the Vytal Tournament?”

Rainbow chuckled. “I guess it might, ma’am, yeah.” She paused, thinking about it. An academy on Menagerie. “Yeah, it might be pretty cool. Have you got an idea for a name for it?”

“That might be getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Lady Belladonna replied. “Although if you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

“Hmm,” Rainbow murmured. “How about … Slope Academy? As in climbing the slope towards equality?”

“A possibility,” Lady Belladonna murmured.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’m not sure that the theme should have to be spelled out,” Lady Belladonna said gently, “but there’s plenty of time to think about it; discussions are only in the most preliminary of stages. Besides, I didn’t actually tell you about it to get your name suggestions.”

“No, ma’am,” Rainbow said, a touch of laughter in her voice.

“Obviously, this new academy will need teachers,” Lady Belladonna said. “But it will also need students; now, we can find children on Menagerie who want to train as huntsmen, but I was thinking that it might be good if we can get some good upperclassmen who have spent two or three years at another academy, who can show the young freshman ropes, since nothing like this has ever existed on Menagerie before. Not you, of course, or Blake — I wouldn’t ask you to leave Atlas — but I was wondering if you knew anyone who might be willing to transfer schools when — or if — we get our new Academy up and running.”

“Faunus students, ma’am?”

“It is a faunus island,” Lady Belladonna pointed out.

Rainbow was silent for a moment. Faunus students, willing to leave Atlas and go to Menagerie to finish their training — meaning students who didn’t have military aspirations.

She thought about Team SABR, and how they might fight for what Lady Belladonna was envisioning — except that Rainbow wouldn’t want the likes of them to be anywhere impressionable young faunus students; you might as well invite Sienna Khan to be the school councillor.

“I … I’d have to think about it, ma’am; no one’s coming to mind off the top of my head,” Rainbow admitted. “To be honest, you might be better off talking that one over with Councillor Cadance; maybe … maybe you could set up a programme whereby Atlas upperclassmen volunteer to spend a year or two on Menagerie, but not transfer to your academy, just until you have some upperclassmen of your own; that way, the Atlas students wouldn’t lose their chance at joining the military afterwards if that’s what they want.”

“Ah, yes, of course, your military advancement,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “Yes, I suppose most students wouldn’t be eager to throw that away after working for it. Thank you, Rainbow Dash; I’ll take that up with the Councillor once we start to get down into the nitty gritty of the negotiations.”

“Glad I could help, ma’am,” Rainbow murmured. She spotted another drone flying over the heads of the students and the spectators, a drone that she recognised as belonging to Twilight. She waved to it and was rewarded by the sight of the drone stopping, letting out a kind of boop-boop sound as it turned in mid-air until its eye, for want of a better word, was fixed on Rainbow and Lady Belladonna.

Rainbow smiled as she heard Twilight’s voice.

“I see her! She’s over there!”

Sure enough, and soon enough, she could see Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy all coming her way, gently moving the crowd aside, slipping and sliding through the people.

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight repeated. “We wondered where you took off to.” She bowed her head as she noticed Blake’s mom. “Oh, good evening, Lady Belladonna. Allow me to introduce my friends: Jacqueline Apple, Rarity Blumstein, Pinkamena Pie, and Fluttershy Warren.”

“Woof,” Spike said.

“And this is my dog, Spike,” Twilight added quickly. “Everyone, this is Lady Belladonna, High Chieftainness of Menagerie and—”

“Mother to one Blake Belladonna, in case the name and resemblance didn’t give it away,” Lady Belladonna said. “Do you all know my daughter?”

“We all know Blake, sure!” Pinkie cried. “She’s awesome! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady B!”

Lady Belladonna chuckled. “If you’re friends of Blake’s, then the pleasure is all mine.” She looked around. “Has Blake already gone down to the surface?”

Twilight nodded. “She thought that Rainbow wanted to be alone.”

“Did you want to be alone?” Pinkie asked.

“…Yes,” Rainbow admitted, after hesitating for a second. “But Lady Belladonna reminded me that sometimes, just because we think we want to be alone doesn’t mean that we should actually be alone. Have you guys seen Weiss? Weiss Schnee, I mean?”

“As opposed to Weiss Smith, darling?” Rarity asked archly.

“I think that she got on a skybus as well,” Twilight said. “Why, is something wrong?”

Neon beamed broadly as she stared at the enormous hamburger that she held in both hands, fat dripping from out of the patties to land on the grass at her feet.

Neon’s burger consisted of no less than three such dribbling patties stacked together, the burgers themselves almost invisible beneath layers of melted cheese that was a little too firm to drip off completely but was not so firm as to stop it from running off the burgers down the sides. As she looked at this monstrosity, Ciel could see some bacon on top nestling amongst the lettuce leaves. Said greenery — and the red of a tomato slice — looked distinctly outnumbered by the sheer amount of meat present.

“You do realise that will kill you,” Ciel observed.

The smile didn’t waver from Neon’s face. “I am here for a good time,” she declared. “Not a long time.”

She opened her mouth wide — almost grotesquely wide — and clamped her jaws around the oversized burger, biting down upon it, distorting the shapes of the burger patties, causing cheese and mayonnaise and fat to begin to spill out onto Neon’s chin.

As Neon began to chew, Ciel got out a handkerchief from one of her belt pouches and began to wipe Neon’s face.

Even as she was still chewing, Neon looked as though she wanted to laugh. She swallowed and said, “Thank you, momma.”

Ciel snorted. “You are very welcome.”

“You want a bite?” Neon asked, waving the burger up and down in her direction.

Ciel leaned away from it. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Neon said. “It’s not like what you went for is particularly healthy.”

Ciel looked down at the box of popcorn chicken that she held in her free hand. As Neon said, it was not particularly healthy.

It was, however, small enough she could eat it without making a mess.

The two of them were sitting almost at the cliffs, a little way off from the docking pads, with the view of the city of Vale spread out before them. The sun had set, and the whole city was illuminated even more brightly than usual, with sections of the city seeming to be bathed in so much light it was as though they were auditioning to replace the sun in the sky. Prominent civic buildings were lit up in green, blue, white, and yellow — as, for that matter, were the Atlesian warships in the sky up above, parading in the Vytal colours as though they might convince people that their presence was a normal part of the festival — while great squares and boulevards were filled with so much light and colour that it was visible even to Neon and Ciel where they sat high above, looking down upon a city that seemed so small it was almost like a model.

“So,” Neon said. “Two-on-two rounds, huh?”

Ciel allowed herself a very slight, very small smile. “Indeed. I hope that I do not make an absolute fool of myself. That would be … embarrassing at the best of times, and even moreso in the circumstances.”

“Because you weren’t supposed to get picked,” Neon said. “Because Penny was supposed to go with Dashie, I’m guessing, to the two-on-two, and then move on to the one-on-one round where she could show her stuff all by herself.”

Ciel was silent. “You … are correct. That was … the intention, at the formation of this team.”

“So what changed?” asked Neon. She grinned. “Did Dashie want to make the one-on-one round that badly?”

“No,” Ciel said. “Well … yes, as a matter of fact, she did, but … that is not why. Penny…” She paused. “I am not sure how much I wish to talk about it, to be perfectly frank.”

“Ah, it’s like that,” Neon murmured.

“To an extent,” Ciel allowed. “Suffice to say that Penny was no longer much interested in the tournament and was prepared to stand out for our sake.”

“Might be the first nice thing she’s done for you,” Neon muttered.

“Neon,” Ciel murmured reproachfully.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Neon said quickly. “I won’t say anything like it again.” She bit into her burger and spent some time chewing on the large mouthful, as her cheeks bulged so that she looked more cat than squirrel. Only when she had swallowed did she say, “You feeling confident?”

“I know little of our opponents,” Ciel replied. “But together … I think, I hope, I do think, with head not heart, that Rainbow and I will make a reasonably good team.” She paused. “And you?”

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” Neon assured her. “Who are we up against? A couple of Vacuans?”

“Some Vacuo teams did surprisingly well today,” Ciel pointed out.

“And yet, they still only had three wins out of eight, compared with our four,” Neon responded. “And if they’re all right, why do they need to try and poach our students?”

Ciel frowned. “How do you mean?”

“I had one of the Vacuans come up to me a little earlier before you caught up,” Neon explained. “That one who’s always covering her eyes with her sunglasses.” She looked around, pointing behind her as she shifted on the grass. “There! She’s at it now!”

Ciel turned in turn, following Neon’s outstretched arm and pointed finger to where she could see Umber Gorgoneion, of Shade’s Team UMBR, deep in conversation with the four members of Team SABR.

“Perhaps they know each other from somewhere,” she murmured.

Neon shook her head. “Nah, she’s giving them the sales pitch. I told you, she did the same thing to me, tried to sell me on ditching Atlas to come to Vacuo. Promised me—”

“A life of freedom?” Ciel guessed. “No ranks, no orders, no structure, no sovereignty? Complete freedom to do as you would, provided you were strong enough to survive?”

“Strangely, no,” Neon answered. “I thought the same as you once I realised where it was all going, but no. That’s not what she said at all. In fact, she was pretty explicit about offering me the opposite: ‘all must serve, with faith and honour, but those who serve shall be given not merely honour in turn but pride; those who came may hold their heads up high amongst all men and known themselves to be amongst the best.’”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “Unusual words to hear from a Vacuan. Serve who?”

“I didn’t ask,” Neon admitted. “The Headmaster of Shade, I suppose; who else is there? Maybe the Vacuans are going to start raising an army? It’s the fashion these days.”

“They had better not start by raising it from amongst our classmates, or General Ironwood will have strong words for Professor Theodore, no doubt,” Ciel muttered. “What did you say?”

“Hmm?”

“To this Vacuan who speaks so strangely, who wanted to whisk you away to serve in desert sands?”

Neon grinned. “I told her I was proud enough already, and I had no trouble keeping my chin up just where I am, thank you very much. Besides, if I went anywhere that hot, I should probably melt.”

“I see,” Ciel said, unable to stop herself from smiling a little to hear it. “How did she take it?”

Neon shrugged. “Well enough. She just … kind of left.” She paused. “I think some might take her up on it, though.”

“Really?” Ciel asked.

Neon nodded. “Mantle kids, faunus—”

“We are from Mantle, and you are a faunus,” Ciel pointed out. “And yet it did not appeal to you.”

“No, but not everyone’s like us, are they?” Neon said. “Some people … I don’t know, but … going to a place where you’re automatically the best, where there’s no risk of anyone sneering at you for what you are or where you come from … I can see how that might appeal to some people. Not to you, perhaps, and not to me either, but … to some people.”

“But … Vacuo?” Ciel said. “All that sand and sun, and not a single luxury to speak of. It sounds unbearable.”

“Maybe it’ll turn out to be unbearable once they get there,” Neon replied. “But, for anyone who does decide to buy into the recruiting spiel … best of luck to them, I suppose.”

“I have to say,” Kali said, handling her chopsticks with aplomb as she pulled up several strands of noodles out of her bowl, “when you said you were going to take me to dinner, I was expecting something a little … fancier.”

The old man running the noodle stand where Cadance and Kali were sat gave them something of a dirty look.

At least, Cadance thought he did; the way that his eyes were set in a permanent squint was making it a little hard to tell.

Nevertheless, she smiled at him. “It’s really very good,” she told him.

That didn’t do anything to change his expression as he turned away from her — from both of them.

Kali was sat to Cadance’s right, with two large — very large — bowls of noodles sat in front of them. Shining Armor was sat to her left, while the rest of Cadance’s security detail was stood around them, keeping the thinning, constantly diminishing crowds at bay.

Darkness had well and truly fallen over Vale, but Beacon itself was kept well-illuminated by the lights of white, blue, green, and yellow that were strung everywhere across the fairgrounds, reaching from pole to pole to banish all shadows from the grounds.

Drones run by the various news corporations continued to flit here and there, taking in what remained of the crowds, the students that could be seen, and … people like Cadance and Kali.

However, it didn’t seem as though many people recognised the High Chieftainess of Menagerie, which was … rather a damning indictment in many ways, however convenient it might be.

Cadance rooted around in her bowl with her own chopsticks; she was a little less expert at the use of them than Kali. “Do you want me to take you somewhere fancier?”

Kali chuckled. “No,” she said, “I’m just surprised by the notion of an Atlesian councillor…”

“Slumming it?” Cadance suggested.

“You said that,” Kali pointed out, “not me.”

Cadance let out a little chuckle of her own. “I mean … since we’re here, we might as well sample all the delights that Beacon and the Vytal Tournament have to offer, no?”

Kali held up one hand. “I’m not complaining, truly,” she insisted. “In some ways, even more than your private box, this is the best seat in the house.”

Cadance followed Kali’s gaze, away from the noodle stand and across the fairground, to where she could see, bathed in the four-coloured glow of the lights, Blake Belladonna and a young man, a monkey faunus by the look of him, an aficionado for lack of shirts and vests, baring his chest at her as they sat — well, Blake was sitting, while the young man was lying with his head in Blake’s lap while she … seemed to be reading to him.

A smile spread across Cadance’s painted lips. “Boyfriend?”

“I’d hope so, for him to be acting so familiar,” Kali said, without force or malice in her voice. “They make a cute couple, don’t they?”

“Oh, certainly,” Cadance agreed. “Do you know what she’s reading to him?”

“No,” Kali admitted. “Hopefully, it’s not one of her gothic romances; I would never say this to Blake’s face, of course, but she has absolutely terrible taste.”

Cadance let out a laugh. “Well, I’m sure she knows best what he’d appreciate.”

“Perhaps he doesn’t care what she reads; just the sound of her voice is enough,” Shining Armor suggested.

Kali snorted. “Something of a romantic, Captain?”

“He has his moments,” Cadance pointed out. “Also his moments of denseness—”

“I was not dense,” Shining Armor declared. “I was nervous; that’s a completely different thing.”

“What did you have to be nervous about?” asked Kali.

“I mean…” Shining Armor trailed off for a moment. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked as a flush rose to his cheeks. “I didn’t think that someone like Cadance would ever go out with a guy like me.”

“In other words, you were dense to the signals that I was giving off practically since we met,” Cadance said.

“How did you meet?” Kali asked, leaning forwards.

“I was his sister’s babysitter,” Cadance explained. “I was a law student, earning a little extra money here and there—”

“And I was a first-year at Atlas,” Shining Armor added. “Cadance came from a good family—”

“So did you,” Cadance pointed out. “Your father was General Ironwood’s brigade XO.”

“And you were so beautiful and put together, and everyone knew that you had so much potential—”

“And you didn’t?” Cadance asked. To Kali she added, “All these years, and he still won’t accept that the only thing stopping him asking me out was himself.”

Shining Armor held up his hands. “That may be true, but the fact is that it was how I felt back then, and so … just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean that it isn’t real. I felt … I didn’t feel … cool enough, I guess.”

Kali smiled. “So when did that change?”

“After I won the Vytal Tournament,” Shining Armor said. “My teammates told me that I should do it on TV as I was getting the laurel wreath. I didn’t do that—”

“For which I am both glad and a little disappointed,” Cadance said.

“But I thought to myself … I knew that I’d never feel as on top of the world as I did right at that moment, and that if I didn’t do it then, if I didn’t have the guts to do it then, then I never would.”

“And it worked out for you in the end, however frustrating it might have been for you, Councillor,” Kali declared. “I hope it works out for them the same way.”

“It seems to be,” Cadance said, with another look at Blake and her boyfriend.

“Yes, it seems to be,” Kali said. “But Blake will be in Atlas next year, and Sun is moving to Mantle to become…” She trailed off. “Councillor … Blake would never forgive me for this, so please don’t tell her that I asked, but I don’t suppose that you could do me a favour?”

In spite of all Sonata's provocations, it seemed to Cinder's eyes as though a carnival atmosphere prevailed in Vale this night.

Probably because of the carnival.

The streets — certainly, the streets around the skydock where Cinder was presently lurking — were filled with revellers, partygoers drinking, shouting, dancing with wild abandon, simply making their swaying way from here to there, leaning on old friends or new acquaintances. The night air was shattered by the sound of drums, by high-pitched woodwind, and by strings. People were dressed in bright colours, in brilliant whites and blues of sea and sky, by as many shades of green as could be found in forest and in field. Not everyone was wearing Vytal colours either; there were troupes of dancers in bright red and gold, there were people concealed completely beneath long robes, wearing ghoulish or monstrous masks, there were men and women on stilts so that they looked like giants, and there were people dressed as grimm.

That last was very convenient to Cinder; she had stolen somebody's beowolf costume and was presently concealed within it, her face, her whole body utterly hidden from view, and in this guise, she stood unnoticed, nobody dreaming that she was, in fact, the wanted fugitive Cinder Fall, enemy of the world.

Now that Pyrrha has defeated me, would they care even if they knew? Cinder wondered bitterly. Would I even frighten them any longer?

That was … hard on herself, perhaps, but it was hard not to be hard upon herself in the watches of night, when the dark closed in around her, even in the midst of such festive gaiety as she was presently immured in.

In fact, it was harder, for the merriment of those all around only seemed to emphasise Cinder's comparative lack of the same. She was as trapped beneath her discontent as she was hidden beneath this beowolf costume.

My time is coming soon. We draw close to the close.

Oh, but the hours seem long.

The passing days did not devour the time as swiftly as Cinder might have wished, and until the appointed time … a few entertaining squabbles in the Amity Colosseum might divert her for a little while, but they could only distract her passingly from the fact that she was in limbo, all things in abeyance, waiting, a captive of time's sluggish onward march, waiting.

It would be grotesque bad manners to attack too soon; Sunset deserves her tournament, and just as the gods allowed Camilla her moment of glory before death, so too show I that courtesy to Pyrrha. The greater the glory that she wins here, the greater will her death shock all the world.

Or else the greater will I seem for putting up a hard fight against her ere I fall.

And yet, ay me, the days seem long. Begone, moon! You have waxed yourself into a shine like polished silverware, wane now and get you hence from our sight!

Let it be the time, that I may cease my sighing.

Wish for the moon to wane swifter? I might as well wish for the return of my moon blood, it is as likely.

Not that I would wish for it, what need have I to pile pain upon discomfort?

With good fortune, what she would do here in Vale tonight would give her some respite from sighs and weariness and restless anticipation. What she would do here in Vale tonight would give her a taste of that sweet nectar of the joy that these revellers all shared in.

And more than that, perhaps, if fate was kind.

She had dreamt of this, back when she could still dream. When she could sleep and taste and ache with discomfort at the moon's turning, when she was human. When she was human, she had dreamt of this, and now, being more than human, she had anticipated it. The moment when she would complete the work begun these many years past and lay so many shades of her past to rest, once and for all.

Father.

Her father had betrayed the memory of her mother, abandoned the home that they had made together, fleeing from her shade to cheat on her with that rancid sow Lady Kommenos; he had 'moved on'; he had 'kept moving forward' as the saying went, and moved so swiftly that the funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables; he had betrayed his wife and wedding vows, and in the betrayal, he had condemned his daughter to a living hell made all the more hellish when he, like her mother before her, abandoned her for Erech's cold and dark dominion. As she hated her mother for dying, so, too, she hated her father for remarrying before he died in turn, and yet still, she would make of Phoebe's blood an offering to her father's spirit that he might know she had survived in spite of everything.

And when we meet again, we shall speak of the trials I have endured and the enemies that I have vanquished.

Come, Phoebe, come. The croaking raven bellows for revenge.

And so, Cinder lurked, her beowolf costume as black as her purposes as she waited.

Despite the festive atmosphere, despite the great day of entertainment that had passed, nevertheless, there were signs even here and even now of Sonata's power at work in Vale. As Cinder lurked in the shadows and watched out of these too-small eye sockets, she saw a heavyset man, wearing a T-shirt that was white with the gear-and-spear symbol of Atlas upon it, be accosted by two young men; there words were hard to make out, but grew louder the longer that they spoke, and soon escalated from shouting to shoving and from shoving to the exchange of blows, and suddenly, the man in the Atlas shirt was face-down on the pavement, and the police were hauling the two young men away as an ambulance sped down the road towards the scene, sirens flashing.

It was almost as difficult to hear with this mask on as it was to see, but nevertheless, Cinder could hear the anti-Atlas chanting, just as she could observe the way the young men gathered in packs like beasts, quiescent for now but waiting for some weak prey, some opportunity, to present itself. There were plenty of police present — that, in itself, was a sign that Sonata had done her work well — yet nevertheless, someone stole a camera from a faunus, snatched it right out of their hand, and walked away as though he had no fear of the law at all.

And the law did nothing, justifying his complacency.

Yes, even here, the faultlines lay; the cracks on the ice were visible to those who cared to look. Ozpin would plunge through it soon enough.

But first: great glory for Sunset and Pyrrha.

And revenge for me.

Cinder turned her attention back to Emerald where the latter waited, a little down the road from the skydock, lingering upon the pavement — not that there were any cars on the road tonight; the carnival had taken it over — occasionally asking a passerby if they could spare a few lien, please sir, help me ma'am. Like Cinder, she had disguised herself just in case; unlike Cinder, she was not wholly concealed beneath a beowolf costume. Rather, Emerald had exchanged her usual attire for a pair of tatty old jeans from a thrift store, a plain white vest, and a threadbare-looking leather jacket fished out of the dumpster, with a smell to match. The only thing that Emerald had on that was in any sense new was the red wig beneath which she concealed her emerald hair, and the brightness of which ensured she was not so anonymous that Cinder might lose her in the crowd.

Thus unrecognisable to the casual eye, Emerald waited, impeaching and imploring, reaching out with both her hands for charity. Sometimes, she got it, lien cards disappearing into her jacket pockets, but more often, she got harsh words or shoves to move her aside — although Cinder suspected those who sought to shove her were likely to find their wallets missing when next they looked — or, most of the time, she was simply ignored. People passed her by without looking at her, their steps quickening in embarrassment, their faces set straight ahead of them as though guilt would overcome them if they looked at her.

And then Cinder saw her: Phoebe Kommenos, her … her stepsister.

She had not changed out of her armour. She was just as she had been in the match against Team SAPR, when Sunset had overthrown her. Had she even showered since, or did she still have the sweat and stench of defeat upon her?

She walked with thunder clouds above her; doubtless, she had not been in the vain to dress for the carnival, to put on pretty clothes, to make herself up, to tend to her hair. Such things had always come hard to her when the black mood was on her — in their younger days, Lady Kommenos had sometimes had to command Phoebe to get changed after a defeat and send Cinder to help her do so. Cinder had hated such occasions, since she was always the target for Phoebe's frustrations, but since then, she had found that she sometimes felt the same as Phoebe did: when one was upset, dress and grooming appeared to be of little import.

In any case, here Phoebe was, dressed for battle and armed for it too, spear and shield alike slung across her back as she slung down the road from the skydock like a lioness, one that is hungry, one that has not made a kill for some time, one that grows desperate.

She walked towards Emerald, and Emerald saw her too; perhaps she used her semblance upon Phoebe, Cinder couldn't be sure, but it would explain the straight course that Phoebe made right towards her. Phoebe's helmet was off, her face and her curled blonde hair visible, but even without her crested helmet, Phoebe was tall enough — taller than Emerald by some way.

Phoebe bent her head a little to speak to Emerald; Cinder was too far away to hear what passed between them, but she could see clearly — as clearly as she could see anything, at least — as Phoebe grabbed her by the wrist and began to pull her away. Emerald did not resist, although she could have done, but that was not the part that Cinder wished her to play, and Emerald was a very good girl. And so, she allowed Phoebe to drag her off, barely even trying to pull away.

Cinder followed them discreetly — at least as discreetly as one could do anything while dressed as a beowolf; it was an appropriate outfit for the hunt, to be sure, but … not the stealthiest. Cinder was very fortunate that Phoebe looked supremely unconcerned about being followed: she did not look back, nor even look around; she simply dragged Emerald along behind her, as though her intentions were completely innocent, and there was nothing to fear from detection or discovery. Perhaps Emerald had a hand in that, also.

Cinder kept to the shadows were she could regardless, hiding around corners, following from a discrete distance, following like a creature of far greater subtlety than a beowolf, as Phoebe brought Emerald to an industrial district, out of the carnival path, where great warehouses loomed like temples to commerce and industry, or with their dirty walls and broken windows, perhaps it was better to say that they were pyramids marking the tombs where commerce and industry once thrived. Perhaps they looked less dead in daylight, but right now, at night, there was something of the grave about their silence and their emptiness. The sounds of merriment scarce reached this place, only the distant rumble of the drums carried so far, and there was not a single colourful costume to be seen, not a costume at all save Cinder's beowolf.

Cinder watched as Phoebe dragged Emerald into one of the warehouses and slid the door shut after her.

Now is the moment.

This is the night that I have waited for.

And yet, having waited for it, Cinder hesitated. The air around her seemed to grow solid, to trap her as a fly in amber, to freeze her in place and forbid her movement.

Her hands trembled.

Close your eyes, don't look up,

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

The memory of what Phoebe had done to her, the memory of all that Phoebe had done to her, they deluged down on Cinder like autumn leaves, like the applause that had fallen on the heads of Sunset and Pyrrha in the Colosseum this afternoon. They set her heart racing. How could she … she had dreamed of this, she had dreamed of confronting Phoebe, sword in hand, of avenging upon her flesh all the injuries that Phoebe had done to her, but … what if she could not? What if she froze, as she had done outside the ice cream parlour, only now there would be no Sunset to come to her aid?

What if … what if she could not do it? What if the dream became a nightmare, and she did nought but lay herself open to more of Phoebe's torments?

What can I do else, having come so far, having involved Emerald? If I do nothing, then I leave Emerald to fend for herself, to suffer at Phoebe's hands.

If I do nothing, if I turn away, then Phoebe has won, a final and irreversible victory over me.

I can do this.

This is my hour.

Thoughts black, hands apt, blades fit, and time obeying,

Stars aligned and no creature seeing.

Eulalia.

Cinder strode forwards and, with a single paw, rolled open the warehouse door in time to see Phoebe strike Emerald across the face and shove her to the floor.

"Enough!" Cinder barked, voice echoing off the dark walls and concrete pillars, striking the remains of pallets and old packing crates that littered the spacious warehouse.

Phoebe turned towards her, gasping in shock — until she must have realised that Cinder was not a real beowolf, because she took a step towards her, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here? Get out, this is a private matter."

"'A private matter'?" Cinder repeated. She held her hands down at her sides, and with her semblance, she set a fire within her beowolf costume. With her fingertips, she set the paws to burning, set fires on either hand that swiftly spread up the arms and across the whole body, consuming the whole outfit, turning it to ashes, the flames uncovering her, revealing her, and as the fire raged, Cinder stepped out of the burning beowolf like a phoenix emerging from the inferno. "Yes, Phoebe, this is a private matter," she agreed, a wild, fey smile fixed upon her face. "A private matter between you and I. A matter many years in the making. The tree that grew in the forest many years ago has been cut down and placed upon the fire that now is ready to burn."

Phoebe's mouth hung open. Her eyes were wide. "Cinder Fall," she whispered.

"Emerald, guard the door," Cinder commanded. "See to it we are not disturbed."

Emerald nodded wordlessly as she leapt to her feet, darting past Phoebe, running past Cinder and the last smouldering remnants of the beowolf costume. Cinder heard her roll the warehouse door shut, enclosing the two of them in darkness, with only the moonlight shining in through the broken windows set high in the ceiling for illumination.

Phoebe swallowed and raised one hand. "Now, if this is about what I said about you and Pyrrha—"

"What you…? Is that what you think this is about? Is that all you think this is about?" Cinder would have laughed in incredulity, save that the sight of Phoebe standing before her stopped all laughter in her throat. It was all that she could do to speak, let alone laugh. "You have no idea, do you? You don't recognise me at all. You never recognised me, not at Beacon, not on the street." Cinder shook her head. "I was worried, at first. I was worried that you would recognise me, and … it had the potential to cause so many problems. But like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to the danger. I wanted to see you. I wanted you to see me. I wanted to see if you would know me, know who I was." She let out a breath, a ragged breath that was the closest thing that she could reach to an exasperated laugh. "But no. Nothing. I didn't even change my name, but you had no idea at all!"

"What are you talking about?" Phoebe demanded.

"You gave me this name!" Cinder yelled, taking a step forward. "I was not born to it; it was bestowed by you. I'd owe you thanks, did I not hate you so."

"Your name?" Phoebe whispered, and Cinder could see the recognition dawning in those eyes of hers, the way they narrowed and then widened, the way her mouth formed a square block of surprise. "Cinder?"

"Finally," Cinder growled. "Did you curse me with so commonplace a name that it never dawned on you that there might be some connection there?"

"But…" Phoebe shook her head. "You died in the fire."

"I set the fire," Cinder corrected her. "And made sure to be outside the house when it burned."

She thought about that night. It was … a steadying memory, a memory that never failed to strengthen her. No matter what happened, no matter how little control over her life or the world around her she felt she had, the memory of the night that she had escaped from the House of Kommenos and burned it to the ground was always a balm to her uncertainty, a reminder that she had a destiny grander than the meanness and degradation that her tormentors had in mind, a reminder that she had the power to be the architect of her own good fortune, if only she had the courage to try.

It was a memory that gave her strength, a strength she needed now, with Phoebe before her.

"You?" Phoebe barked. "You set the fire? You killed my mother, you … you killed Philonoe?" For a moment, she was silent, before she bared her teeth in a bestial snarl as she pulled her spear across her back and brandished it at Cinder. "You twice accursed bitch! I swear, by Thessaly, by Eulalia loud of the war cry, that I will make an offering of your blood to the spirit of my dear Philonoe and send your soul fleeing in anger down to the shades." Her snarling look turned to a smirk as she stepped forwards. "But not before I make it hurt. Just like old times."

Close your eyes, don't look up.

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

Cinder took a step backwards, her glass slippers tapping on the concrete below.

I am not who I was. I am not that girl.

But I am still Cinder, and she is still Phoebe.

Phoebe's lip curled into a sneer. "What's the matter, Ashley? Did you think that you could come in here, reveal yourself, and … what? That I would turn into a terrified puddle of goo on the floor?" She sniggered. "You fool. Stupid, sweet, sensitive Ash—"

"My name is Cinder Fall!" Cinder snarled.

"And I have seen you fall!" Phoebe replied. "Should I tremble when I have seen Pyrrha shatter your aura and leave you helpless?"

Cinder drew her swords; metal swords, not glass, so it would be harder for anyone to tell that she had done the deed after they found the body. "You," Cinder growled, "are no Pyrrha Nikos." She held her steel scimitars out on either side of her and fought to stop her hands from trembling.

I can do this. I can exorcise this demon.

I must.

Cinder attacked; she would waste no more words, she would waste no more time. Now was the moment for action. Now was the moment to charge forward, blades bared, metal glinting in the moonlight.

Phoebe met her with gritted teeth, thrusting forward with her long spear. Cinder leapt up, letting the tip of the spear pass beneath her before she landed on the shaft, balancing both precariously and yet with grace as she ran down the shaft before Phoebe could respond and kicked her in the face.

Phoebe grunted as her head snapped up and back; she staggered backwards, and the all the moreso after Cinder followed up with one swift slash with her swords, and then another.

Phoebe turned, her spear jerking upwards to throw Cinder off. Cinder landed upon the cold concrete of the warehouse, just as Phoebe rolled, rolling to face Cinder once more, even as she pulled her shield from off her back.

She held the great tower shield so that it covered her left, while she held her spear in her right hand only, gripping it now overarm for a thrust.

She had replenished the fire dust in the shield, or so Cinder thought; the red circles surrounding her shield boss gleamed like rubies.

Or like blood.

Cinder stood, swords at the ready, waiting.

Phoebe held her shield so that the bottom half of her face was obscured; she could only see Phoebe’s eyes, glaring at her.

Still, Cinder waited. She felt every nerve in her body crying out for her to attack, but she mastered herself and held firm. Better to wait and see what Phoebe would do.

Phoebe attacked, her steps sounding heavy, pounding upon the floor as she rushed towards Cinder like an oncoming bull.

She thrust downwards with her spear, but Cinder deftly turned the stroke aside with one of her swords. Still, Phoebe came on, shield before her, aiming to slam right into Cinder and bear her backwards. Cinder pirouetted upon her toe, dancing so nimbly that she would have been admired in all Mistralian ballrooms as she turned around Phoebe, her hair flying about her. Phoebe tried to turn as well, but she seemed so painfully slow and heavy-footed in comparison, slow to turn her shield, leaving her flank open for the savage kick that Cinder dealt her.

Phoebe staggered to the right, half-hunched over, still turning, jabbing with her spear. Cinder avoided it effortlessly, retreating out of range.

Phoebe straightened up and once more held her shield out in front of her.

This time, she made no effort to attack. She began to circle Cinder, or tried to, while Cinder circled her in turn; they were like two crabs contesting for dominance of a single stretch of beach, moving sideways with their spidery gait, clicking their claws at one another, never actually closing with their rivals.

They did not speak a word; the only sounds in the warehouse were the soft chinking of Cinder’s slippers and the heavier thudding tread of Phoebe’s boots.

Phoebe’s grip on her spear was now underarm, defensive; Cinder guessed that she meant to wait for Cinder this time.

And it would be so disobliging to keep her waiting too long.

Cinder attacked, dashing forward, swords swept back for a duel slashing stroke.

Phoebe brought her shield up before her. Still, Cinder came on.

The fire dust set in Phoebe’s shield began to glow even brighter. Still, Cinder charged with a great shout, but unseen to Phoebe, she activated her semblance, heating the air all around her, setting the air currents swirling as though she was in the very eye of the storm which raged around but touched her not.

The fire dust glowed ever brighter, and as Cinder closed the distance between the two of them, it erupted in a great explosion, a fiery roar shattering the stillness of the warehouse as flames erupted from out of the shield, engulfing Cinder.

Engulfing her, but passing all around her, driven by the currents of air that Cinder had set to swirling. Cinder felt the heat pass over her face, her aura was singed by the flames in places, but the fire did not consume her, it did not burn her aura all away, it didn’t even come close. Her semblance carried the fire off, so that it surrounded her without doing harm.

But it looked very impressive as she leapt through the fire with eyes wild and hair askew, if she did say so herself.

She kicked off Phoebe’s shield as she tried to retreat before her, spinning in the air like a leaping salmon as she landed behind Phoebe. Cinder kicked at her, striking Phoebe in the knee and forcing her down. As Phoebe dropped onto one knee with a gasp, Cinder slashed at her back with her swords once, twice, three times, then drew both swords across her throat for good measure, slicing her aura, if not her arteries.

Is this it? Is this the monster that I feared so much? Is this the terror of my childhood?

Nought but a shadow that turned to nothingness when the light was shone upon her.

Cinder kicked her again. Phoebe rolled and came up to face Cinder, casting her shield aside as she charged at Cinder with her spear held in two hands, whirling it in her grasp, weaving patterns in the air.

Cinder stood her ground. She would not yield to Phoebe, she had no need to yield to Phoebe, she parried her swipes and sallies, she clashed her swords with Phoebe’s spear as the sparks flew, but she did not yield, not one step, not one inch. She stood fast, turning aside every stroke that Phoebe threw at her, enduring like a sea wall endures the waves, like a mountain endures the wind — save that the mountain cannot counter-attack when the wind falters, which Cinder most assuredly could.

She slipped her swords through the gaps in Phoebe’s guard, she filled the holes in Phoebe’s defences, she drove her blades forward at every opening opportunity. She snatched away parts of Phoebe’s aura like guests at a party snatching up the canapes, every hungry hand lunging forth until there wasn’t a vol au vent left.

Phoebe retreated, breathing heavy, eyes wide.

Eyes filled with fear.

Cinder imagined that her own eyes had looked like that, once upon a time.

How many times had Phoebe seen her eyes like that, as she dragged Cinder from her hiding places or clamped her hand over Cinder’s mouth to stifle her screams?

Was there ever really anything to be afraid of?

Yes. Yes, there was, once. But I grew strong, and she stayed where she’d always been.

Cinder’s smile was as sharp as the blades in her hand.

“You’ll hear the screams, and now you’ll know,” she said, a slight sing-song cadence entering her voice. “Mommy and…” She paused. “Mommy can’t help you now.”

Phoebe stared at her, eyes so wide, her whole body trembling. She stared at Cinder, and then she threw her spear at her as she turned and ran for the warehouse door.

Cinder dropped her swords, letting both scimitars clatter to the ground.

With one hand, she caught the spear, stopping it dead in the air.

The other hand, she raised towards the fleeing Phoebe as Cinder called upon the magic of the Fall Maiden. She drew upon her half of the power, dragging it out of the depths of her soul like trying to draw treacle from a well. She could feel it resisting her, straining against her, but her will was the stronger, and she was the mistress. Though it was difficult, though it made her body ache, this magic would obey her.

It did obey her. Cinder dragged the magic up from the depths and cast a fireball from her outstretched palm to strike Phoebe in the back and knock her to the floor.

Cinder let the corona blaze around her eye as Phoebe turned over to look at her.

Now you’ve got something to really be scared of, Cinder thought as she conjured up more fire, as she let it dance around her, form rings in the air that turned and gambolled like some playful, living creature.

“What…” Phoebe gasped. “What are you?”

“I?” Cinder replied. “I am more than you could ever dream of.” She stretched out her hand once more and let a river of fire burst forth from her palm towards Phoebe.

Phoebe grabbed her shield, still lying on the ground where she had cast it, and held it up in front of her. The flames broke upon the shield, lapping and licking over it, but for the most part diverted away by it, doing little harm to Phoebe’s aura.

Still, Cinder cast the flames, pouring the fire out of her as she advanced on Phoebe, getting closer and closer as Phoebe, pinned down by the fire, stayed where she was, huddling beneath her shield, making no move to extricate herself.

Cinder bore down upon her, continuing to pour fire upon her from her hand until she was close enough to reach out, grab Phoebe’s shield, and throw it away.

Then she grabbed Phoebe by the neck and hoisted her up, slamming her into the wall. With her semblance, she heated Phoebe’s neck, ignoring Phoebe’s fists as they pounded at her — she could survive that much damage to her aura, and more — as she reversed Phoebe’s own spear and smote her on the breast with it.

Phoebe’s aura broke, a green light rippling across her body. Phoebe’s whole body seemed to sag, all strength departing her, her head pitching forwards, her blonde curls falling across her face.

Cinder dropped her, letting her slide down the wall to land at Phoebe’s feet.

Phoebe trembled as she looked up at Cinder.

“Please … please—”

“'Please'?” Cinder snapped. “'Please'? You ask for mercy? You ask me for mercy, me? After what you did to me?” Her lip curled into a sneer. “I grant you the mercy of a swift end, without the suffering you promised me.” Her voice softened. “Go, and greet your sister.”

She thrust the spear forward, piercing Phoebe’s cuirass and her breast. Her life blood spilled out of the wound, falling down the breastplate towards the floor.

Phoebe’s eyes widened, and an exhalation of breath that was almost like a sigh but not quite escaped her.

Her head sagged forward as her limbs were dissolved in cold, and her spirit fled in anger down to the shades.

Cinder took a step back, wrenching the spear out of the wound.

She stared down at the lifeless corpse before her, the shell of flesh that had once been her tormentor, the terror of her nights and the misery of her days, the nightmare of her childhood. She that had once set the painful boundaries of Cinder’s world, now dead at Cinder’s hands.

I used to think you were so strong, so powerful.

Now, strength and power are mine, and you are food for worms.

I would have expected to feel more triumphant than this.

I killed Phoebe! I have destroyed the House of Kommenos, that old blood which fought as Cynoscephalae and Raphia, the august house which drew its sword for the Emperor at the Battle of Four Sovereigns, this family so old in years now utterly destroyed by me.

I am avenged in my childhood hurts.

So why can I take no joy in it?

Why is it that I can yet feel nothing but this empty cold inside, this hunger?

Have I become so inhuman that even the sweet nectar and ambrosia of victory is denied to me?

Yet, I have won. Joy will come, in time, I hope. Until then … I have won. I have beaten her and killed her.

It is over.

Now … now only great battles lie before me.

It is over.

It begins.

Author's Note

I start a new job tomorrow, with a longer commute into work, and as I settle in and learn the ropes I'm not sure how much writing time I'm going to have, so the fic is going on hiatus for a month, coming back in September with, hopefully, some more cool stuff for you all.

Unwelcome Discoveries (New)

Unwelcome Discoveries

The sunlight crept in beneath the curtains to gently illuminate the bedroom of Lieutenant Martinez.

She and Mike had both been up for a while, and now Mike lay on his back, recovering from his exertions. Martinez would have been quite happy to go again, but for Mike's sake, she, too, lay in bed, on her side, watching the room get lighter around them like an insistent knocking on the door.

At the point at which the actual knocking on the door started, the message would become inescapable.

"We should probably get up," Mike murmured.

"Not yet," Martinez said quietly. "Just a couple more hours."

Mike snorted. "The kids will be up soon."

"And when the kids are up, I will get up," Martinez replied. "But unless I've gone deaf, the kids are still in bed, which means that I am gonna stay right here until—"

Her scroll buzzed on the nightstand.

Martinez glared at it.

That glare had reduced hardened criminals to quivering wrecks but did nothing to shut the scroll up.

She felt Mike's hand upon her back. "Are you going to answer that?"

"No," Martinez grunted.

"It might be work."

"Then that's too bad," Martinez said. "I'm on vacation. I was told to take a vacation. They can't tell me that I work too much and then call me in on my off-day."

The scroll continued to buzz insistently, oblivious to Martinez’s irritation.

Martinez huffed wordlessly and sat up, swinging her legs out of bed as she threw the covers off herself. With one hand, she reached for her scroll, opening it up. It was work. It was Mallard, to be precise.

Martinez scowled and answered the scroll on private mode, so that she had to raise the device to her ear in order to hear what Mallard was saying. She didn't want him to disturb the kids if she put him on speaker. "This is Martinez."

"Sorry to bother you, El-Tee," Mallard said. "It's just … there's been a body found in the warehouses near Springhill Market. A dead girl."

"Murder?"

"Yes, boss."

"Sounds like one for the Murder Investigation Team," Martinez said.

"MIT don't want to touch this one with a ten foot pole, boss," Mallard explained. "They've thrown it to us, and ninth floor is backing them up on it."

Martinez frowned. It wasn't usual for the Flying Squad to be called in on a simple murder case; organised crime was their beat, and even when that was the case, she'd never heard of MIT voluntarily relinquishing a murder case before; usually, you had to fight tooth and nail to get them to back off.

"What's going on, why us? Who is this girl?" Her first thought was some gangster's girlfriend, or their daughter. Except she couldn't think of any that had daughters she knew of.

"… she's an Atlas student, boss."

Okay, that explained why MIT didn't want to touch it. She didn't want to touch it either.

Martinez bowed her head, letting her dark hair fall down around her face. "Ah, crap.”

Gilda was in the safehouse kitchen. The coffee was in the cup and the kettle was on, and Gilda herself was bent over, rooting around in the fridge for something to eat. She had just straightened up, a box of eggs held in her hand, when she noticed Ilia standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her.

Her expression was grim.

Gilda frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"We need to talk," Ilia said, her voice firm, like a slab of concrete. "Everyone's waiting in the living room."

"So 'we' is bigger than you and me, in this instance?" Gilda asked.

Ilia nodded. "This involves all of us."

Gilda wasn't too keen on that, to be honest; the people that the High Leader had assigned to this operation were … well, Gilda was sure that they were perfectly good fighters, and skilled in infiltration and … assassination, and she understood that with the Vale Chapter having lost a lot of its best and brightest, they were going to be dependent on the High Leader's entourage for a mission like this.

None of that meant that she liked the team that she had been picked to lead, however. Of the Menagerie fighters, Ilia was the most tolerable of the bunch, and other than her…

But they were the group that she had been tasked to lead; they were the team that the High Leader had given her, and that meant that Gilda had to put up with them just as she had to put up with orders that she didn't like. That was what a good soldier did.

Compared with the fact that she was going to have to kill Dashie, the fact that she didn't like Yuma was pretty trivial by comparison.

And so, Gilda shrugged and put the eggs down on the light brown sideboard of the galley kitchen and followed Ilia out and into the living room next door.

Ilia was correct: everyone was there. Yuma — Gilda didn't know his surname and didn't much care to — was a bat faunus, with a pair of black leathery wings sticking out from his back, kind of folded up but at the same time a little bit spread out too. He was tall, and muscular too, with short brown — slightly reddish-brown, but not much — hair that was cut short and styled in rows of spikes sticking up out of his head. A goatee covered his chin, while leaving his square jaw bare and hairless. He was wearing black and grey, with only a brass-coloured zipper breaking up the colours, and he wore a black glove on his right hand, although his left hand was bare.

Trifa was another one whom Gilda didn't know the surname of. She was a spider faunus, and her traits manifested in the form of grey hands, like they'd been covered in stone, or turned to stone, and a greyness that spread visible up the veins on her arms, grey lines beneath her skin. She was on the shorter side, taller than Ilia but not so tall as Gilda, but with a bit of muscle definition on her bare arms. Like Yuma, like Ilia, she wore black and grey suitable for stealth, but her top had no sleeves, and the zip was undone, exposing the grey lines criss-crossing her chest. Her hair was as grey as the lines beneath her skin, cut short level with her jaw and the nape of her neck, framing her face and combed over so as to cover one of her grey eyes.

Woundwort was a rabbit faunus, with a pair of oversized incisors jutting down from his upper jaw that looked big enough to tear a man's throat out. There was a lot about Woundwort that looked big; the man was a giant, he looked ridiculous sitting in an armchair made for someone of average size, as though he would start to bulge out over it at any moment. When he stood up, he had to duck to avoid the ceiling. Muscle corded his entire body, and his black sleeveless vest wasn't really doing anything to conceal it. His face was puffy, bloated looking, and one of his eyes had been ruined by the SDC brand across his face.

Savannah was … Gilda wasn't entirely certain what she was; an ape faunus, Gilda thought, one of the ones with big teeth, but Gilda couldn't have said exactly what kind of ape, and Savannah had been in no mood to enlighten her. Like Woundwort, she had lost an eye, but there was no brand upon her face, just a lot of old scars concentrated on the left side of her face. Her remaining eye was a soft golden colour, one of the few things about her that really did look soft, because the rest of her features looked sharp enough to cut. Her arms were a little bit too long, and there was a wiriness about her whole body. Her hair was a light brown, like grass dried out under the sun, but cut so short that she might have been bald.

Rill was an otter faunus, with a large rudder-like tail visible between his legs; he was not so visibly bulging with muscle as Woundwort, but he clearly had some there, and he was nearly as tall as the rabbit faunus besides. Unlike the greys and blacks of many of his companions, Rill wore bright red pants that were a little too big for him and a river-blue vest that was sleeveless and half open, revealing the tattoos on his arms and chest — as well as what looked like a couple of bullet wounds that he'd survived at some point in the past. He had blue eyes and golden-brown hair cropped short on top of his head, and as he stared at Gilda, his hand kept straying to the knife at his belt.

There were seven of them, with Gilda and Ilia. Six of them chosen by the High Leader and Gilda chosen to lead them.

Seven of them against Dashie and Blake.

Gilda's eyes swept around the group. "Okay, I'm here," she said. "What's this all about?"

"Kali Belladonna is here," Ilia said.

Gilda's eyes bulged. "Ka— you mean Lady Belladonna? She's here? In Vale?"

"'Lady'?" Savannah repeated. "'Lady Belladonna'?"

"She's our High Chieftainess, isn't she?" Gilda replied.

"I serve one high lady, and Kali Belladonna isn't it," Savannah said. "She is no ruler of mine; she's nothing but a … a pampered housecat, sitting in the lap of luxury while the rest of us scavenge in the trash."

"Let's not use words like that, okay?" Gilda asked. "House cat, house faunus…" She tried to remember if she'd ever called Dashie anything like that. She didn't think that she had. She'd called her a sell-out, for sure, and a traitor, but she hadn't called her anything like that. Secure in the knowledge that she might be a lot of things but she wasn't a hypocrite, Gilda went on, "Especially not someone who does a lot of good for our people. There are a lot of folks living it up on Menagerie who wouldn't be if it weren't for Lady Belladonna."

"Including … your parents, Sister Gilda?" Yuma asked, his voice sinuous, soft, and a little slippery to Gilda's way of thinking.

"I'm not your sister," Gilda muttered.

That affectation — brother this, sister that — wasn't a White Fang thing; it was religious, hardcore God of Animals stuff: those whom the God had called to the Shallow Sea had been bound together, brothers and sisters of the spirit, joined together by fate, they and their descendants, in a common purpose. Gilda was no militant atheist, she believed in the old stories, but as far as she was concerned, addressing everyone as brother or sister was carrying it a bit too far.

Especially when you made it sound as though the person you were addressing was the black sheep of the family you would rather disown.

"But yes," Gilda said. "My parents live on Menagerie, thanks to Lady Belladonna." She returned her attention to Ilia. "How do you know that she's here? Are you sure?"

"I saw her on the news," Ilia replied, getting out her scroll. She opened it up and held it out towards Gilda as she started to play a video clip, some kind of news item.

"The Vytal Tournament began yesterday with sixteen thrilling battles between teams of four," the voice of a female reporter declared, as clips of various students — Gilda recognised Dashie and her team amongst them — played in a swift montage of bright colours and flashy moves. "At the end of the day, five Beacon Academy teams had emerged victorious, alongside four teams from Atlas Academy, four from Haven Academy, and three from Shade Academy. A shocking upset came early in the day as Team Coffee, a Beacon Academy team widely tipped to make the one-on-one round, was demolished in their match, the entire team being eliminated by a single Haven student, Arslan Altan of Team Auburn. With me in the studio to discuss this is former Vytal champion—"

"Hang on," Ilia muttered. "Let me move ahead." She ran her thumb around the bottom of the scroll screen, moving the video along before pausing it on a picture of a fairground at night, lively-looking even though there weren't many people around.

In the centre of the picture, sitting at some kind of noodle stand, Gilda could see Lady Belladonna, sitting with a man in an Atlas uniform and a woman in a bright pink trouser suit.

It was definitely the High Chieftainness of Menagerie; Gilda had never met her, but she'd seen plenty of pictures.

"Huh," Gilda said. "What's she doing here? Do you think she came to see Blake?"

"She came to sell us out," Ilia declared. "That's an Atlesian councillor she's talking to."

Gilda frowned as she looked down at the picture. There did look to be some security goons standing around in the picture, but still… "At a noodle stand?"

"That's Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza," Ilia insisted. "She's been on our list ever since she destroyed the Atlas Chapter. And she's meeting with Kali Belladonna. What does that tell you?"

"I don't know what it tells me," Gilda replied. "Maybe … maybe they're just talking about how well Blake and Rainbow Dash did in the first round matches?"

"Or maybe she's selling out our people to Atlas," growled Savannah.

"How would she do that?" Gilda demanded. She barely waited for a response before she said, "What is this? So what if Lady Belladonna is here, what is it that you want?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Woundwort growled.

Gilda snorted. "Maybe it is," she admitted. "But I want one of you to have the guts to say it, partly because I hope I'm wrong."

She looked at Ilia, but she said nothing. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged. She looked away, hugging her arm with her other hand as her skin turned a pale shade of green, while her spots and eyes turned a light blue.

"Say it," Gilda growled. "Somebody say it, or we're done here."

"They have to die," Trifa said, her voice flat and a little distant sounding, as though she wasn't really there in the room with the rest of them. "The Atlesian councillor and—"

"Lady Belladonna?" Gilda asked.

Trifa shrugged. "We're killing the daughter, why not kill the mother too?"

Killing Blake is bad enough, Gilda thought. "Because she's the High Chieftain's wife? Because what do you think Lord Belladonna will do once he finds out that we killed his wife?"

"What do you think he'll do when he finds out we killed his daughter?" asked Rill.

"That's different; that's our mission," Gilda declared. "Those are our orders from the High Leader. Nothing was said about killing Lady Belladonna, or any Atlesian councillor for that matter."

"The High Leader didn't know that she was here," Ilia said, finding her voice once more.

"That's irrelevant," Gilda said. "We have our mission objectives, objectives, I might add, that will be hard enough for us to accomplish without diverting our efforts onto this!"

"Surely you can see that our objectives pale into insignificance in the face of the prize that now lies before us, Sister Gilda," Yuma said, leaning forward. "Who is Rainbow Dash? Who is Blake Belladonna? Today's heroes, yes, but tomorrow, they will be nobodies, forgotten women."

So the High Leader says, Gilda said. But she wants them dead all the same. Maybe she's not altogether certain that they'll just fade away.

"But," Yuma went on, "if we strike down a Councillor, we will not only avenge the Atlas Chapter, but we will demonstrate that there is no one, no matter how high or mighty, who is safe from the wrath of the White Fang. We will have shown how long and sharp our claws truly are in a way that will be remembered for decades to come!"

"And Lady Belladonna?" Gilda demanded.

"Sic Semper Tyrannis," Ilia muttered, the green shade of her skin deepening.

Gilda's brow furrowed. "Translation?"

"Thus ever to tyrants," Ilia explained. "Why should the Belladonnas live so high on the hill and leave so little for the rest of us?"

Gilda shrugged. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm here to fight for faunus rights, not worry about inequality amongst the faunus." She paused. "More to the point, I'm here to do as I'm told, and I've not been told anything about Lady Belladonna or Councillor Cadenza. Everything that you've said, about killing them, that's not for us to decide. Only the High Leader can make those sorts of calls, and the High Leader isn't here. So are we going to follow our orders and complete our mission, or shall I be sure to tell the High Leader when we get back that you lot thought you knew better than she did and see what the Higher Leader thinks of your initiative?"

As Gilda had expected, as she had hoped, she struck home with that question. It was clear to her that the High Leader did not value disobedience, and the reminder of that fact caused a silence to dampen the fire of the group for more bloodshed.

Ilia's skin changed from green to blue, matching the colour of her speckles and her eyes. Rill shifted uneasily in his seat. Savannah scowled and looked away. Neither Yuma nor Trifa would meet Gilda's eyes. Only Woundwort seemed unaffected, but even he didn't speak up in favour of the course that they had so desired.

Gilda … Gilda believed in everything she'd said — these weren't their orders, this wasn't their mission, and the High Leader wasn't likely to look kindly upon them just deciding to do something else other than what they'd been told to do. But she also just didn't want to do it. She didn't want to kill Lady Belladonna. She didn't really want to kill Lady Belladonna's daughter either, but she wanted to kill the mother even less. As far as she was concerned, Lady Belladonna was a hero to the faunus, and she'd imagine she was far from the only one who felt that way.

It was bad enough to kill those who were trying their best, even if they were wrong; it was something else to kill someone who was honestly making the world a better place, for some people anyway.

But she wasn't sure how far that would get her with this lot; they were a bit of a band of cutthroats in Gilda's opinion, so if she could just convince them to knuckle down and do as they were told, then so much the better.

"You're right," Ilia whispered. She spoke more to the floor than to Gilda, but she spoke nevertheless. "We are all … loyal and obedient servants of the High Leader, and we will obey the commands the High Leader has given us. The High Leader has commanded that Blake and the Altesian who corrupted her shall die, so we will do it, no matter what … no matter what else we might want to do, or how we might feel about our orders." She paused, and her skin colour returned to normal, as did the colour of her eyes and her speckles. "So … how are we going to do it?"

"We…" Gilda trailed off, gathering her thoughts together because she had been giving it some thought, even if she'd rather have had something to eat before getting into this. "We're going to start," she said, "by getting tickets to the tournament…"

Cinder stared at the screen.

She could hardly believe it. She couldn’t believe it at all.

She had meant to catch up on what she’d missed as she and Emerald snuck into Vale to deal with Phoebe once and for all. She had meant to see who was going forward into the two-on-two round and who would be up against whom in that round. She had watched the news merely to sate her curiosity, to find out early what she could have found out by simply watching the matches as they came up. It wasn’t as though it took Lisa Lavender to inform her that Sunset would choose Pyrrha and herself to move forward, after all, and she could have waited to find out which poor saps they would be crushing beneath their chariot wheels.

But she had watched, because she wanted to see a few clips of how it had happened, and because … well, because she had nothing better to do.

She was also, she confessed, curious as to how the death of Phoebe Kommenos would be reported, although it had not yet been reported. Apparently, the Vytal Tournament was more important than a dead Mistralian heiress.

What was the world coming to?

Cinder would have been amused by it in other circumstances.

But now, having watched the news on something of an impulse, having looked upon it as a relaxing diversion, now, all of a sudden, Cinder found herself transfixed by the screen, held captive by it, unable to tear her eyes away, unable to do aught but stare into wonder and amazement.

Emerald had put the stream on pause, holding a single frame suspended before their eyes. No doubt to the editors, it seemed a frame of no great import; there was some passing mention of Pyrrha Nikos, and so, alongside a brief clip of Team SAPR’s victory over Team PSTL, there was also a clip of that same Team SAPR walking amongst the fairgrounds.

But Cinder was more interested in who had been captured walking with them in that picture. There, besides Sunset and Pyrrha and Jaune Arc, there was a fourth girl, not Ruby … actually, there were five girls; the Atlesian was there as well, the redheaded one, but she wasn’t important - she was so unimportant that Cinder couldn’t even remember her name. She wasn’t why Cinder was staring in awed disbelief.

There, with most of the members of Team SAPR, walking through the fairgrounds as though she hadn’t a care in the world, was Amber.

Amber, the Fall Maiden. The Fall Maiden who Cinder had…

At last, Cinder was able to tear her gaze away from the screen and from the sight of Amber; at last, she was able to look away, but only to look down at her own hand, the hand from which a thread of grimm essence had leapt, like the fire that had kept Phoebe huddled beneath her shield, to half-engulf Amber’s face and bind the two of them together, dragging Amber’s magic, and her aura, out of her and passing both to Cinder.

The hand that had made her powerful.

The hand that had made her monstrous.

The hand that had made her so much more and less than human.

“Is that…? That can’t be,” Emerald murmured. She leaned forward, back bent, getting very close to the screen as she squinted with her dark red eyes. “Can it?”

“It is her, unless mine own eyes deceive me,” Cinder said. That was possible, but the weaknesses of her eyesight had so far pertained only to reading. Amber was not blurry to her sight; she could still make out her face and all the details on it.

“I don’t see…” Emerald began, but then trailed off.

Cinder waited a moment for her to finish. “What?” she demanded. “What don’t you see?”

Emerald looked up at her. “Scars,” she said. “When you … there were a lot of scars on her face, but I don’t see them.”

“Because she’s hiding them with makeup,” Cinder said. “Do you not agree that if that is not Amber, then it is the most uncanny resemblance?”

Emerald was silent for a moment. “I thought,” she said. “I mean … how?”

“That,” Cinder replied, “is the question. There is no way that she should be walking after…” She looked down at her hand once again, clenching and unclenching her fist. She could feel the grimm essence within more strongly than she could feel the stolen magic; she could feel it numbing all other sensations: warmth, the feel of her sleeve upon her skin. There was nothing but the cold, cold fire burning her up from the inside out.

“After what I did to her,” Cinder murmured. The process, the transfer, the theft of her power and aura should have killed Amber. It would have killed Amber if one of Ozpin’s huntsmen hadn’t interrupted it. He had severed the connection between the two of them, cleaving the grimm tendrils with his sword, and Cinder and the others, worn out by their battle with Amber, had been forced to beat a retreat — even as Ozpin’s huntsman had done likewise, prioritising Amber’s rescue over pursuit of the enemy.

The last that Cinder had seen of Amber she had been lying comatose in the arms of her rescuer, her face … scarred, just as Emerald had said.

Cinder did not believe that she could have recovered from that, from what had been…

From what I took from her.

The technology did not exist to heal the injury that Cinder had dealt her; the power was not…

The power was not in this world.

But in another world.

“Sunset,” Cinder breathed.

“Cinder?” Emerald asked.

“Sunset,” Cinder repeated. “Sunset has done this.”

Emerald looked, stared really, up at Cinder. She stared up even as she straightened up, forced to do so by the difference in their heights. “How can you be so sure?”

“I know of none other who could have done it,” Cinder replied.

Emerald’s eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t mean—”

“Then how was it done?” Cinder demanded. “She did not simply get better!” Seeing Emerald take a step back, Cinder closed her eyes and sighed. “Forgive me,” she murmured. “That was … this revelation has me…” She sighed again, and even deeper this time. “Sunset, what have you done?”

There was a part of her that felt betrayed, even as another part of her recognised the absurdity of that feeling of betrayal. Sunset owed her … nothing. At the very least, even if you could make a claim upon some gratitude on Sunset’s part — she had saved their lives, after all; Merlot would have blown the whole of Team SAPR to kingdom come if it hadn’t been for her — then one would be hard pressed to argue that it extended to letting Amber die, or letting her languish in a sleep like death, waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.

If one were being perfectly fair, one would probably have to say that Cinder’s actions in saving Team SAPR were as a molehill compared to the Mistral mount of debt that Cinder owed to Sunset for all the grief that Sunset had been forced to endure, in every sense, because of Cinder’s actions.

In either case, no one could reasonably say that Sunset owed Cinder enough that she ought not have to saved Amber’s life if the opportunity arose.

But the heart was not always rational, and Cinder’s heart no more rational than Sunset’s own, and so, her irrational heart could not but feel betrayed, to see not only the other Fall Maiden, the true Fall Maiden, awake and well-seeming and happy-seeming because of Sunset’s actions, but also walking with Sunset, smiling, happy.

And Amber looked happy to be with Sunset too.

Of course, Sunset made her choice long ago. I have no right to complain of it now.

By what right could I ask her ‘how could you do this’? Rather, I should ask myself what else I would expect her to do.

No … no the question is…

How did she come to do it?

That was not the question, of course. The question was what she, Cinder, would do now that she knew that Amber was awake, but Cinder didn’t have the answer to that question just yet, and so, while she thought about it, she busied herself with simultaneously wondering just how Sunset had been in a position to heal Amber thus.

Obviously, Ozpin had given her the opportunity, but … why? Because she was dying? She had been dying for some time, and when Cinder had last been at Beacon, there had been no sign of Amber. And Sunset had believed Cinder when she told her that she was the Fall Maiden, whole and entire, that she had killed her predecessor. She hadn’t called Cinder a liar; she hadn’t pointed out the existence of another Fall Maiden, the true Fall Maiden from whom Cinder had stolen only some of the magic. No one had. At that point, at the time of their mission against Doctor Merlot, nobody had doubted that Cinder was the one and only Fall Maiden and that she had acquired the power through murder.

So it was after that that Ozpin told Sunset the truth.

Because … because he was desperate? Because he had realised that Sunset’s magic might be able to do what his could not?

Or did Sunset have the idea?

Because…

Because…

Because, because, because of the wonderful wizard he was.

Because… She could not answer the because. She could not explain why it had happened now, how Sunset had found out about Amber, any of it.

All she could do was … deal with it.

“What now?” Emerald asked. “What will you do?”

“An excellent question, Emerald,” Cinder murmured. “Perhaps the only question that really matters: what will I do?”

What will I do?

“Does it…?” Emerald cleared her throat. “Does it matter?”

Cinder looked at her, and raised one eyebrow inquisitively.

“I mean,” Emerald hesitated a moment, her hands balling into fists, before she said, with more force than was perhaps necessary, “why do you need the Maiden’s powers when you’re planning to die? If you don’t want anything but to kill Pyrrha Nikos and then get slaughtered by vengeful Mistralians, then what does it matter whether you have all the powers of the Fall Maiden or not?”

Cinder stared down at her, silent for a moment, and then a moment more. “Did it take courage to ask me that?”

Emerald swallowed. “Some, yes.”

Cinder chuckled. “I am sorry for it, even as I commend your courage. In truth, it is … a fair question. What need…?” She looked down at her hand again. “What need, indeed? I would not kill Pyrrha as a Maiden, and as you say … I will rouse such a fury against me by Pyrrha’s death that Maiden’s magic will not protect me. And yet…”

Emerald blinked. “And yet?”

“I would be something, Emerald,” Cinder said. “I would be … more than I am, more than I was, more than I was born, more than I was made, I would be … do you believe in destiny, Emerald?”

“No,” Emerald said flatly.

“That was quick,” Cinder remarked.

Emerald shrugged. “I don’t,” she said. “I don’t believe that we’re all on rails that someone — who? If destiny is a real thing, then who set it down? Who is laying these rails we’re on? — placed in front of us years ago, that we can’t deviate from. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“The Fates,” Cinder answered.

“Hmm? I mean, pardon?”

“The Fates span out our … fates,” Cinder explained. “The sisters three who sit at heaven’s spinning wheel, weaving the tapestry of all things with the occasional pointed suggestion of the gods. So, at least, it was said in Mistral, by those who believe in such things.”

“But they’re not real,” Emerald pointed out, “are they?”

“Many — most — would say not in this day and age,” Cinder admitted. “And yet … I confess myself a little surprised.”

Emerald’s brow furrowed. “By what, and why?”

“Because when I was like you — powerless, alone, desperate — I clung to destiny,” Cinder said. “It was my comfort, my reassurance, my strength. If I had not understood that I was meant for more than I was and had, that there was something better and grander waiting for me … I could scarcely have put one foot in front of the other.” She paused. “I would see my destiny fulfilled. Though it avails me nought, I would become something glorious, majestic, powerful. I would rise transcendent above the run of the common men; I would be exalted ere they tear me down and lay me low. It is true that I could enter the vault and retrieve the relic with the power that I possess, if only we knew where the vault was, but for me … the power is like a victor’s laurels on my brow. The having, not the use, is all.”

Emerald did not look particularly satisfied with that response. The frown remained upon her face; her nose was wrinkled up, her lips crinkled with distaste. “Then what?” she asked. “What are we going to do?”

Finish what I started, was the obvious answer. Kill Amber and take the rest of the power. But how to do that? It was not so easy. Cinder could not simply walk into Beacon after all.

Sweetie Drops has abandoned me, and I do not trust Tempest Shadow.

And yet, unable to enter Beacon as I am, I may have little choice but to trust her.

Or perhaps… Cinder’s gaze fell upon Emerald. Not to kill, no, but to observe, at least.

“How would you feel,” Cinder said, “about disguising yourself for the second time in as many days?”

At Large in Vale (New)

At Large in Vale

Lieutenant Martinez stepped out of the car almost before it had stopped moving, surveying the exterior of the warehouse. The fact that this was the place was obvious, not only because of the uniformed officers standing outside and the blue and white crime scene tape surrounding the area, but also, unfortunately, because of the reporters who were already starting to gather like carrion birds.

The uniforms were keeping them at bay and stoically refusing to answer any of the questions that were being thrown at them, but nevertheless, Martinez wasn’t particularly pleased to see them.

“Crap,” she growled. “How in the gods’ names did they find out about this?”

“Maybe someone in MIT tipped them off, boss?” Mallard suggested.

Martinez sighed. “Maybe,” she muttered as she started to push through the press pack. “Okay, move aside, make a hole, coming through.”

Shoving them out of her way — don’t worry; she didn’t push any of them off their feet or anything — felt good, but unfortunately, it had the downside that they recognised her voice, and the ones that didn’t recognised her face as soon as they turned around to look at her.

“Lieutenant Martinez!”

“Lieutenant, is the Flying Squad handling this investigation? Why?”

“Is this gang related?”

“The investigation has just begun; no comment at this time,” Martinez said, looking at no reporter in particular as she raised her voice enough to let it carry across the whole pack of them. She flashed her badge to the uniform sergeant as she ducked under the blue and white tape and strode towards the warehouse.

Mallard followed in her wake, walking quickly to catch up with her.

“Have we ID’d the victim yet?” Martinez asked as she walked through the open warehouse doors.

“Yes, El-Tee,” Mallard said. “Her name is Phoebe Kommenos; she was on television this afternoon.”

Martinez stopped. “The Vytal Tournament?”

“That’s right,” Mallard said. “Did you see it?”

“I watched most of it,” Martinez replied. “I don’t remember a Phoebe Kommenos.”

“Last fight of the day, boss,” Mallard explained. “Team Sapphire of Beacon against Team Pastel of Atlas. Our victim is — was — the leader of Team Pastel.”

“I didn’t watch the last couple of fights,” Martinez explained. “The kids were getting restless so I made dinner. Who won the fight?”

If Team Pastel had won, then that might be a possible motive, sore loser looking for payback and all that.

“Team Sapphire, from Beacon,” Mallard said. “That Sunset Shimmer girl who got caught in the bombings a while back.”

“Right,” Martinez murmured. “So our victim lost?”

Mallard nodded. “She didn’t take it very well.”

“Really?”

“Not at all,” Mallard said. “Tried to rush one of her opponents after the fight was over, made a spectacle of herself.”

“Hmm,” Martinez muttered. That kind of shot her possible motive out of the water; if you’d won a fight fair and square, why would you seek out the person you’d just beat in public and kill them?

Unless the victim picked another fight and died doing it.

But if it was self-defence, why not call it in?

I don’t know. It’s all just speculation at this stage anyway.

She walked into the warehouse, the morning sunlight disappearing into the shadows of the warehouse. The shadows were dispelled only by some lights set up to illuminate the body of a dead girl, lying sat up against the warehouse wall, slumped, with her head bowed.

She had a very nasty wound in her chest like she’d been impaled with something.

She probably had been.

Martinez stepped closer, taking in the victim: she was wearing her battledress, with armour on; she had come for a fight, or at the very least, she’d been prepared for one.

Beside the dead girl knelt the medical examiner, Doctor Fleur Badland; she was an elderly woman, with a round face with plenty of wrinkles on it and platinum blonde hair that she almost certainly dyed, although Martinez didn’t know for sure. She was wearing blue forensic overalls that covered her from neck to shoes, so that only her head and face were visible.

Fleur glanced up at Martinez and Mallard as they came in. “Lieutenant,” she said, “I wouldn’t have thought this was your usual beat.”

“MIT thought this stank, and they didn’t want to get the smell on their suits,” Martinez said. “Morning, Doc. I take it the cause of death is that wound on her chest.”

“It certainly doesn’t appear to be postmortem,” Fleur replied. “Although, of course, I won’t know for sure until I’ve completed my examination. Did you see her on television yesterday?”

“No,” Martinez said. “I’ve heard she got into it with the opposition after the fight was over.”

Fleur nodded. “She seemed very upset about something.” She paused. “You know, I knew a Vytal Tournament contestant once.”

Martinez took a deep breath. “The same way you’ve known everyone else?”

Fleur smiled. “He led his team to victory and then proclaimed his love for me from the middle of the arena. And then we went to a motel to celebrate with—”

“Yeah, I think I can guess,” Martinez said quickly. She gestured with one hand at the spear lying beside the victim, with blood on the tip. “Is that the murder weapon?”

“I would say so, yes,” Fleur agreed. “Although—”

“You’ll have to complete your examination to know for sure,” Martinez finished the sentence for her. “So what happened to him?”

“Him?”

“The huntsman who proclaimed his love for you from the centre of the arena.”

Fleur chuckled. “I like to taste wine, Lieutenant, but I could never live on just a single vintage for my whole life, no matter how excellent it was.”

“Mmm,” grunted Martinez, who had married her high school sweetheart. “What do we know about the victim? Besides that she was an Atlas student and she fought in the Vytal Tournament yesterday.”

“Twenty-one years old,” Mallard said. “Mistralian by birth. General Ironwood has been informed, and so has the Mistralian embassy; we’re hoping one or both of them can tell us more about her.”

At that moment, Martinez heard the soft hum of an airship’s engines close by — and getting closer. She could hear an indistinct noise from the reporters outside, even if she couldn’t make out quite what they were saying. It was enough to tell her that something was going on out there.

She turned towards the warehouse doors, still open, just in time to see General Ironwood leap from one of his military airships, which hadn’t landed — there wasn’t quite the space — but was hovering just above the ground, close enough for a safe drop.

So, he decided to come and check things out himself. That was kind of annoying, but at the same time, it was also … well, she couldn’t help but respect him for it a little bit.

General Ironwood strode into the warehouse, hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t pay Martinez, or Mallard, or anyone else any notice at all. His look, his attention, was fixed on the dead girl slumped against the wall.

His dead girl.

He walked towards her, ignoring everything and everyone else.

He knelt down beside the body.

“Gods,” General Ironwood murmured, and with one hand — his gloved hand — he reached out and closed her eyes.

He stayed kneeling down for a few seconds, fingers resting upon the face of the late Phoebe Kommenos; his head was bowed, almost like he was praying.

Perhaps he was praying; Martinez couldn’t say that he wasn’t a religious type.

General Ironwood rose to his feet, head still bowed; only when he had clasped his hands behind his back did he raise his head, at the same time as he turned to face Martinez.

“It’s Lieutenant, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” Martinez replied, taking a step forward. “Lieutenant Martinez, VPD Flying Squad.”

General Ironwood nodded. “She was too young for this.”

Martinez had seen younger, but she didn’t like the fact, and she wasn’t minded to disagree with the general’s sentiment. “I don’t suppose her next of kin are in town for the tournament?”

“She doesn’t have a next of kin,” General Ironwood said. “Her mother and sister died in a house fire during her first year at Atlas.”

“Father?” Martinez asked.

“Dead before she came to the Academy,” General Ironwood said. “I admit I’m not sure how. It wasn’t something she brought up.”

“Understandable,” Martinez murmured. “So no relatives, at all?”

General Ironwood shook his head. “She was the last of her family.”

“You say that like her family mattered,” Martinez said.

“I think it did, in Mistral,” General Ironwood answered. “A lot of our Mistralian students at Atlas come from what the Mistralians regard as good families. She was from one of those.”

“So she was rich?” Martinez asked.

“She never wanted for anything,” General Ironwood said, “although I never pried into her financials.”

“I don’t suppose you know who inherits, with no immediate relatives?” asked Martinez.

“I’m afraid you’ll probably need a Mistralian lawyer to answer that one for you,” General Ironwood said, “and they might need a genealogist, for all I know. All I can tell you is that she didn’t have any direct family. Of course, we try and make the Academy a home for all our students, but Kommenos … she didn’t want what she saw as pity.”

“What was she like?” Martinez asked.

“Talented,” General Ironwood said. “Not the best fighter, man to man, but a good leader, a good student, disciplined, hard working.”

“Any enemies?”

“No,” General Ironwood said at once. “Not that I know of, at least.”

“What about what happened in the tournament yesterday?” Martinez asked.

“That … Kommenos got carried away,” General Ironwood said.

“Hmm,” Martinez muttered.

She wouldn’t put it past the general to try and protect the reputation of his academy or his students, even if that meant letting a murder go unsolved. It was the way the world worked, in her opinion, especially when it came to so-called elite institutions. They closed ranks to protect themselves, and all the important and powerful people associated with them.

“I’ll need to talk to her teammates,” she said, hoping that they might be more honest with her than the general, or at least know more than he did.

“Of course,” said General Ironwood. “I can take you up to Beacon in my airship, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, General, just give me a minute,” Martinez said, turning away from him and beckoning for Mallard to come closer. “Get forensics down here, check the whole warehouse for anything that might come up. Then get ahold of the Mistralian police and ask them to send over everything they’ve got on the fire that killed Phoebe Kommenos’ mother and sister.”

“You think there’s a connection?” asked Mallard.

“Just because we don’t know who inherits doesn’t mean the person who inherits doesn’t know,” Martinez pointed out. “It’s worth a look, anyway; we don’t have that many leads that we can just ignore one. And check all the CCTV between her and the skydock. Phoebe came down here ready for a fight; maybe she didn’t come here alone.”

“So,” Blake said, “do you two have everything figured out for your fight today?”

Team YRBN walked into the dining hall, to be greeted by the smells of the breakfast buffet wafting through the air towards them over the heads of the students who were already present and seated.

Said students included Team SAPR, who were sat down on their habitual table with Penny, Amber, and Teams WWSR and BLBL; they also included Team RSPT, who were sat — minus Penny, obviously — on the other side of the hall, with many other Atlas students, including most of Team TTSS and Neon Katt.

It was a little strange to see Team RSPT not sat with Team SAPR, but Blake supposed that variation from time to time might be a good thing.

“What’s there to figure out?” Nora asked. “We’ll just hit ‘em hard and keep on hitting ‘em until we win, right, Yang?!”

“That’s pretty much our strategy, yeah,” Yang said.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “I think you might find your opponents aren’t quite obliging enough to let it be that simple.”

“Well, obviously, that’s why I said that it’s ‘pretty much’ our strategy,” Yang said. “Obviously, I have an actual plan; what do you take me for?”

“A good team leader,” Blake said. “Perhaps the best team leader at this school. That’s why I thought it was weird that you seemed so blasé about this coming fight.”

“I guess it could have seemed that way,” Yang admitted, “but, in my defence, between me and Nora, we don’t have the speed or the agility to outmanoeuvre our opponents, and while we could try and fight from a distance, and we could do some damage that way, we probably couldn’t keep the distance open if our opponents wanted to close, and we’re better up close. So hitting hard as fast as we can and trying to keep the pressure up until we’ve smashed our way through probably is our best bet.”

Blake found that the logic of that, once expressed more fully, was rather inarguable. “True,” she said, “but even so, there’s room for some finesse.”

“And I will come up with some finesse, don’t worry,” Yang said. She paused. “What do you mean, I’m ‘perhaps’ the best team leader?”

Blake shrugged. “You and Sunset have different gifts; it makes it hard to make an absolute judgement between you.”

“Right,” Yang murmured as the four of them drifted across the dining hall towards the table where Team SAPR sat with Amber, Penny, and Team WWSR. “I’m not sure Sunset will be pleased to hear that either. Or Weiss, for that matter.”

Blake chuckled softly. “I’m sure I’ll survive their disapproval.”

“Hey, Blake!” the voice of Rainbow Dash intruded upon their discussion as the Atlesian team leader made her way across the cafeteria towards them, intercepting Blake and the rest of Team YRBN before they could reach the SAPR table. “Hey,” she said again, “can I borrow you for a second? Great, thanks.”

She wrapped one arm around Blake’s shoulders and began to steer her away, towards the table where Team RSPT — absent Penny — sat with TTSS and the various other Atlas students.

“Morning, by the way,” Rainbow said.

“Good morning,” Blake said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” Rainbow said. “It’s just that you should have breakfast with us this morning.”

Blake blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re one of us, or you will be; in fact, you pretty much are already,” Rainbow explained, while not explaining anything. “And it’s important that we stand shoulder to shoulder today.”

Blake’s brow furrowed a little. “Is this … is this because Trixie and Starlight are facing Sunset and Pyrrha? Is that why you’re not having breakfast with Team Sapphire?”

“Yes, Blake, that is it exactly,” Rainbow agreed. “Trixie and Starlight need to know that we are on their side, and they need to know that you’re on their side, and you need to show that you’re on their side, the same as the rest of us.”

“Do they really care that much?”

“Have you met Trixie?”

“Yes, yes, I have, and underneath the performative persona, she had as good a sense of priority and duty as any huntsman,” Blake pointed out. “This is just a match in a tournament; it doesn’t really matter.”

“Maybe not, but that’s why we can — why we have to — do stuff like this,” Rainbow countered. “I mean, obviously, if there was a real fight going on between them, and Trixie and Starlight were wrong, then I’d be on the side of Team Sapphire, but this isn’t a real fight, and there is no right or wrong, and so, it’s our duty to support our fellow Atlesians, any way we can.”

“By eating with them?”

“Well, we’re not just eating with them,” Rainbow said. “We’re also helping them plan out their strategy, and since you know Team Sapphire as well as anyone who isn’t actually a part of Team Sapphire—”

“You want me to help them?” Blake asked. “Do you really think they can win?”

“I don’t know if they can,” Rainbow admitted. “But I know that we have to support them every step of the way until the fight is over, win or lose.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “Penny’s over there with Team Sapphire,” she pointed out.

“Penny isn’t one of us,” Rainbow replied. “Or at least, she won’t be. She doesn’t want to be. She isn’t. It’s hard to say it right with these school transfers; you and Penny have made the leap, but it’s like you’re still stuck in mid-air, suspended until the year ends, and you can both move on to where we all know that you want to go.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Blake replied. “But at the same time, the way that you talk about Penny … it feels a little bit…”

“I guess,” Rainbow admitted. “But what I’m trying to say is that her real friends are from Beacon, she wants to go to Beacon, so she’s under no obligation to pretend that she isn’t rooting for Sunset and Pyrrha. She can even help them out with their battle plan, if she likes.”

“I’m not sure she knows enough about either Trixie or Starlight for that.”

“No,” Rainbow agreed. “But she could help, if she had any help to offer them.”

They reached what Blake now could not help but think of as the Atlas table, where she felt herself to be under the gaze of many Atlas students. Fortunately, most of those gazes were friendly, although she felt as though some — such as those coming from the members of Team SABR — were a little less so.

Trixie touched her fingers to the brow of her starry hat. “Blake.”

“Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst,” Blake greeted the members of Team TTSS, at least the ones who were there for her to greet. “Where’s Tempest?”

“Who knows?” Starlight asked.

“Who cares?” Trixie added.

“Trixie,” Starlight said in a tone of mild reproach.

“What?” Trixie asked.

Starlight shook her head. “Hey, Blake.”

“Morning,” Blake said, sitting down in an empty space between Starlight and Twilight. “How are you feeling about today?”

“The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie is suprrrrremely confident!” Trixie proclaimed. “We’ve got this.”

“Really,” Blake said. “Then you don’t need any help then, do you?”

“No, wait, Trixie didn’t say that!” Trixie squawked, waving her hands frantically. “I mean, ahem, the Grrrrreeat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie would of course welcome all advice that could possibly refine our already excellent battle strategy into an even more perfect form.”

“Although perhaps Blake should be allowed to get something to eat before we begin,” Twilight suggested.

“'We'?” Blake repeated, as she looked around the table. “You’re all—”

“Why not?” Neon asked. “Those Beacon kids are fine and all, but we all want to see Atlas win.”

“Fair enough, but don’t you have your own matches?” Blake asked. “You do.”

“Against some Vacuans, yeah,” Neon said. “We’re all agreed that Trixie and Starlight have the biggest obstacle in their path.”

“Is that so?” Blake asked. She looked again around the table, taking in Neon and her teammates, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, before focussing her attention upon the four members of Team SABR. “I know that we don’t know one another, but you’ll forgive me if I say that you’re being complacent; you should worry less about what Trixie and Starlight are up against in Sunset and Pyrrha and more about what you’re up against in Weiss and Flash.”

“Well, that’s us told, isn’t it?” said Sabine, the leader of Team SABR. “A Belladonna has spoken, and we must obey.”

Standing across from Blake, not quite having sat down at the table, Rainbow Dash drew in a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils like a bull.

Blake kept her own voice very calm, or she endeavoured to, at least, and even thought that she’d managed it. “I don’t expect my name to carry any special weight, but I’d appreciate it if nobody sought to use it against me. I’m not my father, or my mother, and I’m not telling you anything; I’m just giving you some advice: Weiss won’t go down without a fight.”

Sabine opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Neon.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just … just don’t, okay.” Neon yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. “It is far, far too early in the morning for any of your crap, and it’s certainly too early in the morning to be starting fights with Blake. Come on, we all like Blake, right? Some of us like Blake a lot more than we like you.” She winked at Blake. “So let’s just save the fighting for the arena, yeah? Or at least until I’ve had my second coffee of the morning.” She grinned. “Especially since Old Blakey might have a point? If you want to take the Schnee heiress down a peg — and I know that Flynt would be one hundred percent on board with that—”

“One hundred and ten percent,” Flynt Coal said. He was a tall young man, with dark skin that was nevertheless a little lighter than Ciel’s, who kept his hair hidden beneath his grey fedora. “But just because I don’t like her doesn’t mean that she should be taken lightly; that was a good fight she had yesterday; she’s no pushover.”

Sabine hesitated for a moment, before she let out a sigh. “Fine, fine, I get it. But have some faith in us, why don’t you? Seriously. Ugh.”

“You want some help after we’re done helping Trixie and Starlight plan their way to victory?” asked Neon. “Flynt has enough brainpower for that, even if I don’t. In fact, weren’t you thinking about ways that you could take her out before the tournament started in case we got drawn against her?”

“Yeah, but they mainly relied on my semblance,” Flynt said. “I don’t know if Sabine or Team Sabre could do much with them.”

“We can see for ourselves if you tell us about them,” said Sabine.

“After us,” Starlight said.

“And after Blake has gotten something to eat,” Twilight reminded everyone.

Blake chuckled. “Yes, if no one has any objections.”

“We’ll be here when you get back,” said Sunburst.

“I’ll come with you,” Neon declared, stretching both her arms above her head. “I could use a little more myself.” She climbed over the table, jumping over Ciel’s head to land on the floor behind her, giving her a pat upon the beret as she landed. “Come on, Blake.”

“Um, right,” Blake said, getting up from her seat and following Neon across the dining hall — although she hardly needed showing the way — to where the various breakfast options, hot and cold, were on display.

Neon went to the coffee machine, grabbing a plain white cup from the cupboard and putting it under the metallic nozzle. The machine began to whirr and grind as Neon pushed the button to select a black Atlesiano.

“On the one hand,” she said, “I’m sorry about Sabine spitting at you like that; she had no right. You’re right: you’re not your mom, you’re not your dad, you’re one of us. You’re soon to be one of us, anyway, and you were trying to help. But don’t worry about Team Sabre too much; they’re just…”

Blake waited a moment for her to finish. “They’re just what?”

“Angry,” Neon said. “Their hearts are in the right place, but they’re angry. And they’re angry at people who aren’t angry.”

“Like my parents.”

“Like you, maybe,” Neon added. “And Dashie too. They got into it with her last night, when she asked them to … maybe not take their feelings out on Weiss.” The coffee machine went quiet, and Neon pulled her cup out from under the machine and immediately took a swig of the black, bitter-looking coffee.

She sighed contentedly. “Yep, I need this.”

“It sounds like your team leader could do with being told that as well,” Blake pointed out.

Neon took another sip from her coffee. “Look,” she said, “something you’re going to understand if you’re going to be one of us is that, strange as it may seem, the Schnee family is not universally popular in Atlas. It acts like it is, and I guess that Atlas itself acts like it is. But it isn’t.”

“Why not?” Blake asked. “I mean, I can understand why faunus like Team Sabre might resent the SDC, but Flynt—”

“Nobody gets to be as rich as Jacques Schnee without stepping on some people to get there, and it isn’t just faunus,” Neon told her. “Flynt’s dad used to own a dust shop in Mantle, until the SDC stopped selling to retailers so that everyone would have to buy from the SDC directly. Drove his old man out of business.”

“That’s … unfortunate,” Blake said. “Immoral, even. But that’s not Weiss’ fault.”

“No,” Neon admitted. “But Flynt can’t hurt Jacques Schnee, and neither can Sabine or the rest of Team Sabre.” She smiled. “But it’s only a tournament fight, right? It’s not like they’re going to lurk down a dark alleyway and attack the little princess meaning to do her any harm? They’re angry, but they’re not the White Fang. I mean, when you think about it, isn’t this a pretty good and harmless way of settling grudges? Like those Mistralian duels.”

“I … suppose, maybe,” Blake murmured.

It had, after all, worked for Sunset and Pyrrha; they had fought a duel to clear up the antagonism between them, and now, they were best friends, able to rely on one another absolutely. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but there seemed to be some … not magic, that seemed the wrong word to use with how much she knew about real magic, but some alchemy that made it work, in certain circumstances anyway.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

“Because you can be a bit of a self-righteous nagging scold sometimes,” Neon said. “I say this with lots of love, of course.”

“Of course,” Blake muttered dryly.

“And I would hate for you to get up on your high horse for no reason,” Neon went on. “Because, you know, not everyone would be as tolerant of that as me.”

“Mmmhmm, thanks a lot,” Blake said.

Neon grinned. “You’re welcome!”

Blake grabbed some breakfast — pancakes, with berries to cover them — and then, Neon having secured for herself a bacon muffin, they returned to the table, where everyone was still waiting for them.

“So,” Blake said as she sat down, very carefully not meeting the eyes of any member of Team SABR, “what’s the plan?”

Trixie had four salt and pepper shakers — two salt, two pepper — sitting on the table in front of her, and at Blake’s words, she started to push them across the table, separating the salt from the pepper.

“Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos,” she said, indicating the two salt shakers. She gestured next at the two pepper shakers. “Starlight Glimmer and the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful—”

“We know,” Sabine grumbled.

“Trrrrrixie!” Trixie finished as though Sabine hadn’t said anything. “Now, Sunset can fight up close, but she’s more of a medium-range fighter; Pyrrha Nikos, of course, excels in close quarters.”

“She can shoot,” Blake pointed out.

“Sure, but given the choice, it seems like she prefers to close in with sword or spear,” Starlight said. “Especially since I don’t think she has many rounds in that rifle of hers.”

“It’s five,” Rainbow said. “At least, I think it is.”

Blake hesitated. It’s only a tournament. Only a play-fight, after all. “That’s right,” she said. “She has five rounds in there.”

Starlight nodded. “Like I said, close quarters.”

“So you’re going to try and keep your distance and fight at range?” Twilight asked.

“Would that work?” responded Starlight. “Pyrrha’s fast, and Sunset can teleport; if they want to close the distance, there isn’t a lot we can do about it.”

“And besides,” Sunburst said, “Starlight’s no slouch up close herself.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to go close combat against Pyrrha?”

“If she wants a fight, then we’ll give her one,” Trixie declared. “Starlight will engage Pyrrha, while Trrrrrrixie deals with Sunset. Trrrrixie is something of a medium-range fighter herself, after all. Whichever of us defeats our opponent first will go to the aid of the other.”

Blake was silent for a moment. As a skeleton, it wasn’t a bad idea: matching up their specialities against their opponents, provided that they got more out of that than they would out of trying to support one another. Of course, if they did that, then Sunset and Pyrrha would be trying to support one another as well — especially since … Blake had a feeling that Sunset’s inclination might be to let Pyrrha shine on this one, to please Pyrrha’s mother and play to her standing with the crowd. She wouldn’t let Pyrrha fight alone, of course, but at the same time, if Sunset could step back, she probably would.

From a wholly disinterested perspective, it might be interesting to see the two of them fight together. It’s not something that ever happened when I was with them.

Not in the sense of real, supporting one another togetherness, at least, as opposed to just being in the same battle.

But, from an Atlesian perspective, from the perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win…

Blake wasn’t entirely sure that she did, but she understood Rainbow’s point that she had to act as though she did, just to show willing.

From a perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win … is splitting up, even to split their opponents, the best move for them?

“Sunset and Pyrrha,” Blake said softly, “have never fought … as a pair before. If your teamwork is good, you might find that splitting them up for one-on-one fights advantages them more than you.”

“But if you’re right,” Rainbow said, “then their instinct is going to be to split Trixie and Starlight off for a pair of one on one duels, so it would be best to prepare for that.”

“Not necessarily,” Blake replied. “Sunset is very invested in Pyrrha’s performance in the tournament, more than in her own ego—”

“If she was not invested somewhat in her own ego, then she could have sent Jaune through to the second round,” Ciel pointed out.

“Well … yes, you have a point there, I suppose,” Blake murmured. Put like that, the idea that Sunset would try and engineer a situation where Pyrrha took out both Starlight and Trixie began to look a lot less plausible. After all, why go through to the second round if she did not hope for at least some glory in her own right?

And besides, thinking about it, while Sunset was most effective at medium range, she’d demonstrated repeatedly that she was willing to try just about anything in a good cause, even engaging up close with enemies who were stronger than she was. There was no way that she would simply be content to hang back and engage at medium range if that meant allowing Starlight and Trixie to combine their efforts against Pyrrha, certainly not if that looked to be causing Pyrrha any sort of real difficulties.

“But do you think you can take them?” she asked. “One on one?”

Starlight’s lip curled upwards. “That’s what we’ll find out in the arena, isn’t it? I know her reputation, and I’ve seen her fight, but I’m not so bad myself. So we’ll see how it goes.”

“It would go better if you had a good semblance,” Sunburst said. “Something that would maybe give you an edge on Pyrrha in combat. Something that she wouldn’t see coming.”

“An excellent idea, Sunburst,” Trixie said, looking around the table. “Flynt, with your ability to copy yourself—”

“Now, hang on a second,” Flynt said, raising one hand. “I mean … I’m rooting for you and all, I want to see Atlas do well, but … it’s my semblance.” He looked away, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face.

Rainbow frowned. “Ciel, with your precognition, Starlight could see Pyrrha’s moves before she makes them, give her a chance to respond to them.”

Ciel also looked away, unable to meet the eyes of either Starlight or Trixie. “I would rather not,” she said softly.

“Starlight’s only going to copy it, not cut it!” Trixie said, her voice rising even as Trixie herself surged to her feet.

“Trixie,” Starlight murmured. “It’s okay—”

“No, Starlight, it is not okay!” Trixie yelled. “I am sick and tired of you getting treated this way, and by Atlas students no less! We’re supposed to be a band of brothers!” She put one hand on her hip as she glared around the table. Flynt, Ciel, even Neon shrank away from her accusing gaze. “We’re supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder. Or is that only some words to be said when it’s convenient, huh?”

“You can have my speed,” Rainbow said. “Bull rush her the moment the fight starts and—”

“No,” Blake said, laying her hand out on the table. “Take my clones. You can dodge the hits, and if you use dust in conjunction with the clones — if you can work out how to do that — then you might even be able to use the clones to damage Pyrrha, or trap her.”

There was a moment of silence around the table.

Starlight smiled. It was a soft smile, close-mouthed, but a smile nonetheless. “Thanks Blake. I appreciate that. You too, Dash.”

Trixie inclined her head in Blake’s direction. “A true Atlesian indeed.”

Blake scoffed. “I don’t know about that. A kind person, maybe.”

“So … which is it going to be?” Twilight asked. “Rainbow’s speed or Blake’s clones? Or… you know, if you hang around, I’m sure that Applejack would let you copy her super strength.”

“I’m sure she would,” Starlight agreed. “But, having seen Blake’s semblance in action—” She started to move her hand towards Blake’s open palm. “Are you sure about this?”

Blake smiled. “It’s a use of your semblance, not invasive surgery.”

Starlight placed her hand on top of Blake’s. Starlight’s hand rippled with an opal light, just as Blake felt a little pinch on her palm, an ever-so-slight reduction of her aura.

Is that it?

“Thanks again,” Starlight said, taking her hand away. She held it up in front of her, as though the secrets of Blake’s semblance could be found written on her palm. “Wow, you’re pretty versatile, aren’t you?”

“It’s one of the most versatile semblances I’ve ever seen,” Sunburst said. “I’d say … second most versatile, after the Schnee semblance.”

“You … you really think so?” asked Blake.

“How many other people do you know that can modify their semblances with dust?” Sunburst asked. “Sunset Shimmer’s got a pretty versatile semblance, I suppose, but … I have a hard time getting a read on that.”

“Anyway,” Starlight said, “I’ve got Blake’s semblance now, so—”

“PYRRHA NIKOS!”

The eyes of all the students at the Atlas table turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as Lycus Silvermane, Thorn Hubert, and Mal Sapphire of Team PSTL strode in.

“Where’s Blake going?” Ruby asked as they watched Blake get steered away by Rainbow Dash to sit amongst the Atlesians.

“She’s showing solidarity with Atlas,” Sunset replied. “She’s showing that she’s rooting for Trixie and Starlight to beat us.” She bit into her blueberry muffin, chewing upon the crumbly, slightly dry cake for a second or two. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Let’s not get overconfident,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You seem quite sure that’s why Blake is going over there,” Jaune pointed out.

“I lived in Atlas long enough to understand how their minds work,” Sunset replied.

“I lived there too, and I still don’t understand how their minds work,” Penny said.

Sunset snorted. “And you don’t want to, Penny; it’s very dull.”

“Rather a generalisation, wouldn’t you say?” asked Weiss.

“There are exceptions to every rule,” Sunset said blithely.

“Hey, guys,” Yang said as she led Ren and Nora over to the table presently being occupied by SAPR, their friends, and WWSR. “As you can see, we lost Blake on the way.”

“Sunset says she’s showing solidarity against us,” Ruby explained.

Yang frowned. “That’s … okay, that makes sense, but it also seems really rude.”

“Considering that they have supported us stalwartly in real battle, one can hardly take too much umbrage when they wish for a team from their own school to win the tournament match,” Pyrrha said.

“But isn’t part of the point of the Vytal Festival to be bigger than school ties?” asked Amber. “To not pit different schools against one another?”

“Competition will always pit people against one another; otherwise, it wouldn’t be competitive,” Sunset said. “And if they didn’t want the different schools to feel like they were in competition, they shouldn’t make an issue out of which schools the different teams come from; they just have a free selection of thirty two teams, regardless of what school they’re from.”

“But then some schools might not be well represented,” Ruby pointed out.

“Exactly, which is why it won’t happen,” said Sunset. “But Pyrrha’s right; it’s not a big deal. We’ve made friends with teams from Atlas, from Mistral … well, we’ve made friends with a member of a team from Mistral, anyway, but the point is that we’ve all lived up to the spirit of the Vytal Festival … most of the time.”

“You two are the first up today, huh?” Yang said. She grinned. “Nervous?”

“No,” Sunset said at once. “What have we…?” She trailed off. “No, I don’t want to insult them — they’re actually pretty good — but all the same, we’ve nothing to be nervous about.”

Yang looked over her shoulder. “Is the whole of Atlas Academy helping them plan out their strategy or something?”

There’s a joke to be made there, but I shall refrain and be the bigger person, Sunset thought.

“There’s no rule against seeking help from others,” Dove observed.

“Rainbow helped us plan out our strategy against Team Pastel,” Ruby pointed out. “I wonder what’s changed that it’s so important that they all be on the right side against Sunset and Pyrrha.”

“Perhaps they just didn’t like Team Pastel?” Lyra suggested. “Everyone likes Trixie and … everyone likes Trixie.”

“Do they?” Weiss asked softly. “No offence, but she strikes me as being a little bit of a…”

“Blowhard?” Flash asked.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she murmured. “That word fits well enough.”

“Well … you’re not entirely wrong,” Flash admitted. “But in a strange way, that’s part of her charm. If she wasn’t going around calling herself Great and Powerful and referring to herself in the third person, then she wouldn’t be Trixie.”

“Fair enough, but I fail to see how that makes her more likeable,” Weiss said, “or even more bearable.”

“Her magic show is a lot of fun,” Lyra pointed out. “So that helps. Not to mention that she’s got a great singing voice.”

“And she’s got it when it counts,” Flash added. “Not singing, I mean; I’m talking about … she’ll have your back when it matters. She may not always act like it, but she’s someone to have by your side.”

“She even had Sunset’s back a little while ago,” Ruby said. “Didn’t she?”

Weiss looked at Sunset. “Really?”

“When was that?”

“Oh … a little while ago,” Sunset replied. “I was…”

“Is that when you bailed and nobody knew where you were?” Yang asked. “When Ozpin sent you on that solo mission?”

“It wasn’t quite a solo mission,” Sunset replied. “Trixie and Starlight were with me.”

“'Solo mission'?” Russel repeated. “Is that a thing?”

“Ozpin sent you out to fight by yourself?” Amber asked. “That sounds—”

“Worse than it really was, trust me,” Sunset said. “The point is,” she went on, keen to divert attention, or get things back on topic, depending on how you wanted to look at it, “that I’ve seen a little bit of Trixie and Starlight in action.”

“I don’t like Starlight’s semblance,” Ruby muttered.

Sunset glanced at her. “It’s just a semblance.”

“Nobody should have the power to affect other people’s semblances,” Ruby insisted.

“I can affect other people’s semblances,” pointed out Penny, plaintively.

“That … that’s not the same thing, Penny,” Ruby said quickly. “Your semblance … it lets you free yourself from what others are trying to do to you with their semblances, but it doesn’t stop those people from using their semblances in the first place. Starlight can stop people from using their own semblances, steal them for herself; nobody should have that kind of power. If semblances are the reflection of our souls, then what does a semblance like that say about her soul?”

“If that’s the case, then what does my semblance say about me?” Yang asked. “If you ask me, all that reflection of the soul stuff is just a bunch of … it’s old religious nonsense from the days when people believed there was a man in the sky causing thunderstorms. Our semblances are just random; they don’t say anything about us; we just have to learn how to make the best of them, just like Starlight has.”

“Some would agree,” Ren murmured, leaving the fact that others might not agree to be merely implicit.

“I’ve not seen anything malicious about Starlight,” Sunset said quietly, although as she said it, she couldn’t help but think about what Princess Twilight had told her, about the Starlight of Equestria who had tried to erase the Elements of Harmony from history.

But then, she repented and became Princess Twilight’s very own apprentice. Like as not, she will be Princess Starlight soon enough, and an alicorn — at least then, her power won’t seem to be too great for a mere unicorn.

The point being that, in my world, although she may have gotten off to a rough start, she has turned out to have a good heart in the end, as judged by Princess Twilight and Princess Celestia. Who is to say that in Remnant, she didn’t simply skip the rough start and have a good heart all along?

Though there is no princess to judge her here, there are many who have a great respect for her, whose opinions I also respect after a fashion.

Not least of which being my own opinion.

The people here share names with folk who live on the other side of the mirror, but they are not mere mirror images; Starlight is not fated to walk the same path as her other self who shares her name.

“I have seen no malice in her,” Sunset repeated. “She is … stalwart, and so is Trixie when it comes down to it … just as Flash says. I don’t underestimate them.” She grinned. “Of course, we’re going to beat them, all the same.”

“Does that mean you have a plan?”

Sunset shrugged her shoulders somewhat. “A plan? Last time, when we — I — tried to get inside the heads of her opponent, I got it wrong.”

“It sounds as though you know Starlight and Trixie a little better than you knew Team Pastel though, right?”

“Perhaps,” Sunset conceded. “I think … I think…”

What do I think?

What are you going to do, you two?

"I think," Sunset said, "that perhaps we should think less of what Starlight and Trixie will do and more of what we will do: together, they are a formidable team, but if I distract Trixie, then Starlight will be no match for you in combat. Defeat her, and Trixie will fall before our combined might."

"Assuming you haven't beaten her already yourself," Pyrrha replied.

"I'll certainly try my best," Sunset said, "but by setting low expectations, I protect myself against accusations of underperformance if things don't go entirely my way." She smirked. "But in all seriousness…" In all seriousness, Trixie bested Evenfall Gleaming, one of the strongest unicorns of ancient times. A unicorn far stronger than myself, possessed as she was with the power not only of unicorns but of pegasi and earth ponies too.

The memory made Sunset think of the bag beneath her bed, of Evenfall's dark regalia stored in a sack, unused and little thought of. Sunset had, in fact, thought of giving them to Amber, to better arm her against the threat of Salem's minions. She had not done so partly because she wasn't sure that it would actually be possible for Amber to harness Equestrian magic, not having been born a pony — although, against that, it had to be admitted that Evenfall had not been born a pegasus or an earth pony but had taken to their magics just fine — partly because even if Amber could use the powers in theory, where she would be going, there wouldn't be anyone around to teach her how to use them properly, and partly … partly because Sunset was concerned about the side effects. Yes, Evenfall had hardly been a model of gentleness and moderation before she had fashioned her dark regalia, according to Princess Celestia's account, but all the same … nothing would come for nothing, as far as dark magic was concerned. It promised power greater than birth or station had imbued one with, but in return … in return, it would make use of any who sought to make use of it.

She did not want that for Amber. It was not something she would gift to her for the sake of a greater security that was, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat dubious in the circumstances.

And in any case, all that was little to do with the matter at hand.

"In all seriousness," Sunset repeated, "I do not underestimate her. They might try and stick together for greater protection, but Pyrrha and I should be able to outmanoeuvre them. That's the basis of it, anyway." She looked from Yang to Weiss and back again. "What about you two? How are you feeling about today's fights?"

"It seems," Weiss began, only to pause for a moment. She looked at Flash. "It seems, if Rainbow Dash is to be believed — and I don't see why not — that we should expect some hostility from our opponents."

"Because—" Flash began.

"Yes," Weiss said, in a brittle voice like thin ice cracking as people walked upon it. "Because of the recently exposed activities of the company which shares my name."

"It's so stupid how people can't see past things like your name," Ruby declared. "As though that had anything to do with you. It's no better than the way people look at the faunus."

"Names have power," Pyrrha said softly. "Over us, and over others as well. That cannot be escaped, no matter how much we might want it to."

"I'm not sure I would," Weiss replied. "I … my name is not the whole of me, but it is part of me nevertheless. A part that, though I do not own the whole of my name and its attendant reputation, is nevertheless fused inseparably from my own. Take away Schnee, and … and you tear up Weiss as well. Without my name, and all that my name means, I would not be myself. Though it brings me some hostility, that struggle, too, is mine to bear, mine to fight against, mine to overcome. I would not give it up, nor trade it away for all the wealth in Remnant."

"Is that not because you already have all the wealth in Remnant?" Sunset asked.

Weiss snorted. "Well … perhaps I could have made a better choice of words there."

"It's because sometimes our pain is what makes us stronger," Ruby said. "It gives us a reason to keep moving forward."

Cinder would have something to say about that, if she could hear it, Sunset thought. Instead of saying that, though, she asked, "Did anyone watch Team Sabre's fight yesterday?"

"No," Flash admitted. "That seems like an oversight now."

"I didn't," Yang added.

"Me neither," said Nora.

"Nor I," Weiss said quietly. "We are … somewhat in the dark."

"Don't worry about it too much," Yang said. "Nora and me are just the same; we didn't bother to watch Team Ball yesterday either."

"You face two of the children of Titus Andronicus, a Mistralian huntsman of great renown in his day," Pyrrha said. "In fact, the family itself has — or had — great repute."

"Oh, well, Pyrrha can come to our rescue, at least," Yang said, with a slight grin. "Bad luck, Weiss."

Weiss made a wordless muttering noise that could have meant many things.

"Are they a noble family?" asked Jaune.

"Not noble, no," Pyrrha replied. "A middle-ranking family, not unknown before Titus, but of no great antiquity either." She paused. "It is a rather sad story. Titus Andronicus was one of the greatest huntsmen of his day, a slayer of grimm, a champion of justice; wherever he went, it was said, darkness retreated from him. But of his twenty-five sons—"

"'Twenty-five'?" Jaune exclaimed. "Twenty … he had twenty-five kids?"

"Twenty-six children," Pyrrha corrected him. "Twenty-five sons and one daughter."

Jaune stared at her, eyes so wide that they might have been about to pop out of his head. "Twenty-six … and I thought my mom was heroic."

"Sounds like a regular clan of heroes," Yang said.

"Assuming that they all became huntsmen," Penny said. "They might not have. They might have wanted to be … something else. Anything else."

"But they did not, and therein lies the sadness of it," Pyrrha said. "Twenty-five sons, and twenty-one of them have perished in the field, against grimm or bandits. Little has been heard of Titus Andronicus these recent years. Some say that grief has maddened him, others that he broods upon it; either way, he does not stir abroad."

A moment of silence followed her words; it dropped upon the table like … like the shroud of one of the dead sons of Titus Andronicus.

Twenty-one sons, dead. Twenty-one, and not in some old story, no, this had happened … in the last few years, within their lifetimes. These were people who had been living when they were living, but now drew breath no more.

Twenty-one sons, that … well, that was very bad luck indeed for their father, but also … that could not be normal, could it? It could not be normal for so many huntsmen to die?

Or was it so, and they simply hadn't realised it?

Twenty-one sons, dead. Well might their father go mad with grief. Fewer losses might be the undoing of Lady Nikos; a single daughter's death might make Lady Belladonna weep.

Sunset looked — surreptitiously, she hoped — around the table. No one here had twenty-one siblings, still less twenty-five, that such great losses might be borne by their parents with anything approaching equanimity. And yet, at such a rate of loss…

How many of us will die, and how swiftly?

I will not allow it.

Have I power to prevent it?

Sunset felt her hands clench into fists — and then she felt two hands around her right, clenched fist.

Amber's hands.

Amber smiled as she looked into Sunset's eyes. "It will be alright," she said, giving Sunset's hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "It will all be alright. That is not the fate that awaits you."

How can you be so certain? Sunset wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her throat. They stuck in her throat, and then dissolved because, as she looked back into Amber's eyes, it was clear that the answer was because Amber was a Maiden, and it was a Maiden's part to bring hope, just as they had brought hope to the old man, the wizard, back in ancient times.

Sunset could feel Amber's hands through her gloves, she could feel the warmth of them, a warmth that was spreading down her arm and across her body, rippling out to warm the whole of her and melt away all the ice of fear.

Amber was right; that need not be their fate. It would not. She would not stand for — would not permit — so empty a table.

It would be alright. She would not suffer such ill-fortune.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Amber nodded. "Although," she said, "after losing so many of their brothers, I'm surprised that the two siblings that Yang and Nora will be fighting still want to be huntsmen."

"It's because they're brave, and they understand what's at stake," Ruby said, "and I guess that it's a way of honouring their fallen brothers, too."

Yang sighed. "I gotta say, Pyrrha, I wish you hadn't told us all that. It makes it a little harder to beat them."

"I'm sure that neither of them would wish for pity, or for you to give anything less than your best," said Pyrrha.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure not," Yang agreed. "Do you know anything about how they fight? Did you ever come up against either of them in a tournament?"

"No," Pyrrha said, with a shake of her head, "the Andronici are true huntsmen; they have never been involved with the tournament circuit. Nevertheless, I believe that they favour traditional weapons."

“You mean no transformations?” asked Nora.

“I mean that, as I understand it, the family mainly use — or used — ancestral weapons, passed down to them by their predecessors.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Ruby said. “For them, I mean. If you don’t have a weapon that’s yours, that’s made for you, that’s a part of you, then … how are you going to use it properly?”

“I…” Jaune trailed off. “Think you make a good point.”

“I use Soteria reasonably enough,” Sunset pointed out.

“Eeh, you’re not that great with it, are you?” Ruby replied. “You’re not on the same level as Blake or Weiss.”

“Well, okay,” Sunset conceded. “But all the same—”

“PYRRHA NIKOS!”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as three members of Team PSTL strode in. Phoebe wasn’t with them, and at the head of the trio stood Lycus Silvermane, dressed for battle, muscles bulging.

A group of Atlas students, none of whom Sunset could put names to, followed after him. Thorn and Mal both had hands upon his arms, but he shrugged them both off as his eyes swept over the cafeteria.

It didn’t take him long to catch sight of Pyrrha.

“PYRRHA NIKOS!” he roared again, like a bull in the field beholding a rival. He marched towards her, devouring the distance beneath his quick strides. His footsteps upon the floor were heavy as the beating of a drum. “GET UP!”

Pyrrha rose slowly to her feet. Sunset got up as well, more quickly than Pyrrha; Jaune rose also, while Yang and Ruby both rested their hands upon the table so that they could get up if they had to. Amber shrank into Dove’s shoulder.

All eyes, not just on their table but on other tables also, were fixed on Lycus as he, heedless of the comrades who sought to restrain him or of the other students who trailed after him, bored down upon them.

Sunset barred his way to Pyrrha, saying nothing but letting the stern look upon her face speak for her. She didn’t know what he wanted, but you didn’t march into a room bellowing somebody’s name if you wanted a nice cosy chat, so no, he wasn’t getting too close to Pyrrha.

Lycus looked down on her, baring his teeth at her. “You,” he snarled.

“Good morning,” Sunset said. “Can we help you?”

Lycus breathed in and out heavily, his chest rising and falling, his exhalations forcing their way out between his gritted teeth. His gaze, as sharp as the sickles that he wielded in battle, flickered like swift slashing strokes between Sunset and Pyrrha.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Pyrrha asked softly.

Lycus’ face twitched with irritation. “Don’t act like you don’t know!”

“Lycus,” Mal murmured. “They probably don’t; why would they—?”

“They must know!” Lycus snapped at her. “Who else would … who else would want to … it wasn’t enough for you to humiliate her, you had to kill her too?”

“'Kill her'?” Jaune repeated. “Kill—”

“Phoebe?” Pyrrha whispered. “Phoebe is—?”

“She’s dead!” Lycus yelled, in a voice that struck the high ceiling of the dining hall. “Phoebe is dead! Murdered!”

Sunset’s eyes widened in spite of herself. Phoebe … Phoebe was dead? Phoebe had been murdered?

Cinder.

Sunset had no proof. She didn’t know how Phoebe had been killed, or when, or where, but she almost didn’t have to. She knew in her bones, in her soul, that Cinder had been the one to do this. Who else would? Pyrrha would not stoop so low; why would she? She had won the fight, and anyway, it wasn’t in her nature.

I would not stoop so low either, not even when my back was more flexible than it is now.

But Cinder…

Cinder had the motive, without doubt. If anyone deserved to kill Phoebe Kommenos, it was Cinder, the stepsister she had abused and humiliated. Such had been what Phoebe had done to Cinder that it was very hard to weep for her. Sunset was more concerned about how Cinder had done this. It was hardly likely that Phoebe had ventured beyond Vale, which meant that Cinder must have come to her, at least in some fashion.

“Where?” she demanded. “When?”

“As if you don’t know,” Lycus spat.

“We do not,” Pyrrha said, beginning to walk around Sunset to get closer to Lycus. “We knew nothing of this until you arrived, I swear it by sea and sky and on my sacred honour.”

Lycus’ face twitched again. “Your honour?” he repeated. “Your honour?”

“We have witnesses that will put us here all night,” Sunset added.

“Of course you do,” Lycus snarled, his lips curling into a sneer. “Your friends will alibi you.”

“So we are killers, and they are liars?” Sunset demanded. “What grounds do you have for any of this?”

“I think that many of us would like to know that,” the voice that spoke was a smooth one, belonging to Medea of Team JAMM as she drifted over in their direction. Nor was she alone; just as several Atlesian students had followed in Lycus’ train, so did Medea bring with her a coterie of Haven students, not only her own teammates, but Team ABRN too, and Sun, Neptune, and others besides.

“That is a serious accusation to shout where so many ears can hear,” Medea went on, raising her own voice somewhat so that it carried across the dining hall, “serious when made against anyone, but especially serious when directed against a former Champion of Mistral. Such accusations should be brought before the magistrate, with witnesses and evidence … unless your purpose is to provoke a duel in defence of insulted honour?”

“It’s really not,” Mal said quickly. “He’s just…”

“Please, forgive him,” Thorn added. “We just found out that our team leader was dead, and Lycus is—”

“I don’t need the two of you to talk for me!” Lycus yelled, tossing his head as he once again cast off their arms. “I need…” He bowed his head, and his white mane falling over his face, and his next words were half-choked as if by a sob. “I need justice.”

“And I pray you find it,” Pyrrha said softly, “but you will not find it here, not with us. I promise you.” She paused, and when Sunset glanced at her, she saw that Pyrrha was looking down anxiously. She reached out and put her hand in Jaune’s, letting his fingers close around her. With her other hand, she played with her sash. “I…” she began, but then stopped and trailed off once again. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Sunset could see nought but misery upon her face, her mouth set downwards.

“I…” she began, but then trailed off again. “I know that Phoebe and I … instead of what happened at the end of the match yesterday, I prefer to remember that she came to me on the eve of my duel with Cinder and … offered to let all be bygones between us. She kissed my cheeks and offered me her hand in friendship. That … that is the Phoebe that I prefer to remember.”

A Phoebe that never really existed? A Phoebe who was lying? A Phoebe who was secretly rejoicing because she thought that you might die?

A Phoebe who is of more use in this situation than the real one.

Sunset had hated Phoebe’s visit to Pyrrha, had hated the whole circus surrounding it, all those insincere people beating a path of Pyrrha’s door to do the ritual thing, the expected thing, the thing that would make them look good, that would make them esteemed in the eyes of their peers. She had hated all of it, the insincerity, the performativity of it, the fact that they didn’t really care whether or not Pyrrha lived or died — that some of them, like Phoebe, were actively hoping for Pyrrha’s death.

Now, Pyrrha was playing the same game. Did the fact that she clearly wasn’t enjoying it make it any less insincere?

No, but it was perhaps more understandable in the circumstances.

“You have my condolences,” Pyrrha said, to the members of Team PSTL. “If there is anything that I can do for you … please, you have but to ask. I am at your service.”

“We are all at your service, within the bounds of good conduct,” Medea added. “Let us all remember gentle Phoebe, to each of us the soul of courtesy while she lived.”

Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, would it? Sunset thought.

“Th-thank you,” Mal murmured. “We are … thank you.”

Lycus did not reply. He stood with his head bowed, his body trembling.

“I … she …” he began. “My lady.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed a little. “You—”

“I spoke out of turn; I was angry,” Lycus declared, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have … I’m sorry, I just … forgive me.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “No … of course.”

Lycus didn’t look up. He remained where he was, head down, face concealed beneath his hair. Then he turned away and strode away as swiftly, and almost as violently, as he had come, forcing the Atlas students to scramble aside lest he trample them down beneath his booted feet.

Thorn followed after him, but Mal hesitated for a moment. “It was … they told us it was in Vale, last night. During the carnival.” She, too, hurried after Lycus.

Sunset turned her back on him, looking towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha looked at her, and Sunset could see her thoughts mirrored in the gravity of Pyrrha’s expression.

Cinder. Cinder in Vale.

Sunset and Pyrrha both looked towards Amber.

Amber swallowed. “What … what is it? Why are you both looking at me like that?”

Professor Ozpin needs to know. He needs to know that Cinder is at large in Vale, or was last night, at least. He needs to know … even if that means that he must know why Cinder would be so eager to strike down Phoebe Kommenos.

I’m sorry, Cinder, I really am, but you leave me no choice.

With you in Vale … I have prized your confidence above much, but I cannot prize it above Amber’s safety.

I am sorry.

You brought this on yourself.

The fact that that was undoubtedly true didn’t actually make Sunset feel any better, but at the same time, she had had far worse things to feel worse about lately.

“Excuse me,” she said as she started to walk out of the cafeteria.

“Wait,” Amber called out. “Where are you going?”

“To speak to Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said.

Breaking Confidence (New)

Breaking Confidence

“What’s she going to speak to Professor Ozpin about?” Amber asked as Sunset walked away from them, out the dining hall and into the courtyard beyond.

Pyrrha was almost certain that she knew, although Sunset hadn’t told her so: she was going to tell Professor Ozpin that it was Cinder who had murdered Phoebe Kommenos.

That was Pyrrha’s thought, and she would be astonished if it were not Sunset’s thought as well; she had seen it in Sunset’s eyes, the knowledge, the certainty.

After all, whatever enemies Phoebe might have made in the arena, they were far less likely to have murdered her than the murderous stepsister whom she had … well, Pyrrha wasn’t entirely sure what Phoebe had done to Cinder, but Sunset had certainly implied that it was bad, perhaps even bad enough to drive Cinder to villainy, and Sunset, with her semblance, ought to know.

They both, it seemed, suspected Cinder, and once Professor Ozpin knew the truth about her, knew where she came from, then he would likely suspect her too, and then…

Well, Pyrrha was not sure about the what then, but the now was quite worrying enough. That Cinder had been able to get into Vale, although she was wanted, hunted, although her name and face had been distributed to every police precinct, although everyone knew that she was responsible for the Breach, an enemy of Vale, an enemy of mankind … yet still, she managed to reach into the heart of Vale and strike down Phoebe.

Phoebe.

Pyrrha … Pyrrha found herself … regretting Phoebe’s death. They had not been friends, and despite what she had pretended, despite what she had been forced almost by necessity to pretend in front of Lycus and the others, there had never been a true reconciliation between them. She had not liked Phoebe, not ever, and according to the ancient customs of Mistral, it might well be said that she had given Cinder cause and more to take her life, but all the same, Pyrrha found there was a regretful feeling in her heart. A sickly feeling, that felt as though it might overturn her stomach.

A life snuffed out, and a great Mistralian house too. Phoebe’s ancestors had fought on both sides of the Battle of Four Sovereigns, they had carried Soteria into battle for the House of Nikos on many occasions through many generations; an ancestor of hers had been the first over the wall during the storming of Thebes, another had been the first to land upon the shores of Kaledonia. The Kommenos family had been retainers of the House of Nikos when the Thracian lords had been kings of their own realm and rivals for the throne of Anima. Phoebe had come from a line as old as any in Mistral, older than most, and old in honour too; and now, that line was ended, with her life.

Cinder had not only killed a person, which would have been bad enough, but she had struck down a part of Mistral’s history, too.

She felt a hand upon her shoulder: Jaune’s hand. His face was solemn, not sad as Pyrrha felt, but solemn-looking in respect of the occasion nonetheless. He did not say anything; he neither asked if she was alright nor sought to make her feel better. But his hand was upon her shoulder, and that was not nothing to her.

Pyrrha thanked him with her gaze as she raised her right hand and placed it gently atop his.

“Pyrrha?” Amber asked. “Are you…?” Amber trailed off. “Did you know her?”

“She was their opponent in the fight yesterday,” Nora explained.

“And they’d fought each other before, in the arena in Mistral,” Ruby added.

“All the same, I’m a little surprised that you look so glum about it,” Arslan said. As the other Haven students began to drift back to their seats and tables, Arslan took the seat so recently vacated by Sunset. “Unless you really did make up before your duel.”

Pyrrha didn’t say that she had not, and surely, Arslan could not expect her to; instead, she said, “A woman is dead, and an old Mistralian family is ended; should I not regret these things?”

“'An old Mistralian family,'” Arslan repeated. “P— Pyrrha, I know that that is your world and all, but having had to sit through one term of the history of our old families already, I have to say, in the nicest possible way, if you people have inherited the virtue of your noble ancestors, then how do you explain Phoebe?”

“Arslan, she is dead,” Pyrrha replied, a touch of reproach entering her tone. “Might we not—?”

“Lie about her?”

“Show some respect,” Pyrrha corrected.

“No,” Arslan said bluntly. “I didn’t like her, and I’m not going to pretend that I did just because she’s not around anymore. Didn’t it stick in your throat having to say that?”

“It would have troubled me more if Lycus had continued to accuse me of the crime,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Arslan frowned. “Well, that’s a point, I suppose.”

“He seemed very upset,” Amber murmured.

“He was her teammate,” Ruby said.

Jaune shook his head. “No, it was more than that,” he said. “He loved her.”

Pyrrha looked at him. “Love? Loved Phoebe?”

“Are you sure about that?” Arslan asked.

Jaune nodded. “I’m sure. I’m positive.”

“I agree,” Dove added. “For what it’s worth, I think Jaune’s on the money. It’s the way that he sounded, right?”

“The … anguish in his voice, yeah,” Jaune agreed. “And the anger, too, the frustration. He didn’t sound or act like someone who’d just lost a friend, or at least, I don’t think he did. I think … I think there was more there.”

Dove nodded in agreement.

The corners of Yang’s mouth turned up a little. “Well, you two ought to know, I guess.”

Nora looked at Jaune, and then at Dove. “What do you think, Ren?” she asked.

Ren shrugged. “They could be right,” he said. “He was clearly attached to her, but some friendships can be very strong, and the emotions when those bonds shatter can be equally powerful.”

“Mmm, yeah, I guess,” Nora muttered.

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “But … I’m not aware of Phoebe dating anyone, were you, Arslan?”

“No, but I wasn’t really looking to find out,” Arslan said.

“Neither was I, I suppose, but I would have expected to see something about it,” Pyrrha murmured. “And besides, Phoebe would never date a faunus.”

“I didn’t say that they went out, or that she loved him,” Jaune pointed out. “I just said that he loved her.”

Yes, that was quite true; he hadn’t spoken of any reciprocity on Phoebe’s part, only of Lycus’ own feelings.

Did you know, Phoebe? If you had known, what would you have done?

If you had known that you could be happy, would you have turned away from your desire for fame and glory?

Obviously, it wasn’t a question that she could ever know the answer to; she would have needed, like Sunset, to be able to look into Phoebe’s soul to find the answer, and even if she had that power, it was too late to use it now.

“Rough on him if you’re right,” Cardin grunted. “She’s gone, and he has to live with it.”

“But he’ll get over it,” Penny said. “Won’t he? I mean, obviously, he won’t forget her, but … he’ll move on. He’ll move forward. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes,” Weiss said softly. “But just because you’re supposed to do something doesn’t mean that you will. Sometimes … sometimes, the hurts that people carry are too great, the wounds inflicted too deep, to be moved on from.”

“So … what then?” asked Penny.

Weiss sighed, as she clasped her hands together on the top of the table. “I can’t say,” she admitted. “I’m not sure that anyone can. It’s all … up to the person concerned. It all depends on them; on him, in this case. Depending on just how much she meant to him, what kind of person he is … none of us can really say where he’ll go from here.”

“All we can do is wish him well and hope that he has some good friends to support him,” Ruby added.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “Indeed.”

She bowed her head and closed her eyes a moment and briefly prayed for the soul of Phoebe Kommenos, that her shade would find rest in whatever awaited the spirit after death.

Then she got to her feet. “Amber,” she said, “may I speak with you — and Dove, you too, I suppose — for a moment, outside the cafeteria?”

“Oh, of course, Pyrrha,” Amber said as she, too, rose to her feet, and Dove as well.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “Excuse me,” she added to Jaune and Ruby, “I’ll be back soon.”

She walked out of the dining hall, with Amber and Dove following behind her, leading them not only outside but around the edge of the building towards the rear; the tourists hadn’t yet started to arrive for the second day of the tournament, but already, there were plenty of students about, moving in and out of the cafeteria and around the courtyard, getting their breakfast before the tourists did arrive, not to mention everyone setting up the fairground attractions. Even without the vast and heaving crowds that would shortly descend on Beacon, there were enough people able to make Pyrrha nervous of being overheard, and so she brought Amber and Dove around the rear of the dining hall, where there were no windows and hardly anyone actually went; it looked like a loading dock, with space to land an airship, with wheeled cages to transport goods back and forth and with some stacked tubs of industrial-quality fat that Pyrrha would very much rather not think about. And so, lest they be disturbed by any of the kitchen staff instead of the students, they moved on yet further, passing the loading dock and finding an unobtrusive spot beyond, where she could see no one and it appeared that nobody could see them either.

“A slightly less cosy part of Beacon,” Dove observed.

“But quiet,” Pyrrha replied.

“Yes,” Amber murmured. “Yes, it does look very quiet.” She paused for a moment, looking around. “What is it, Pyrrha?” she asked. “What did you want to talk to us about?”

“I…” Pyrrha trailed off, because it was somewhat … well, no, it wasn’t difficult — it was very straightforward really — but at the same time … she didn’t want to alarm Amber; that was the heart and the truth of it. She didn’t want to frighten her, after all that she’d been through already. She deserved better.

But in this world, we do not always get what we deserve, do we?

So, since I cannot give Amber what she deserves, I should at least give her the truth.

“Phoebe, the dead girl, the … murdered girl found in Vale,” she said. “I believe, and Sunset believes it too — that’s why she has gone to speak with Professor Ozpin — that Phoebe was murdered by…” — she drew in a deep breath — “Cinder.”

A gasp tumbled out of Amber’s mouth. Her eyes widened as she staggered a few steps backwards. “Cinder?” she repeated, her voice a high-pitched whisper. “Cinder, no, that … that’s not possible, that … it can’t be!”

“We may be mistaken,” Pyrrha said. “But I do not think it likely.”

“Why not?” Dove asked. “Why would Cinder want to kill an Atlas student? Who was this Phoebe person to her?”

“I would…” Pyrrha hesitated a moment. She did not really want to say; it would, after all, be a breach of confidence to someone who had, whatever her faults, saved Pyrrha’s life on two occasions — once in the Mountain Glenn tunnel, when her strength had begun to falter, and again when she had forced Merlot to disable the self-destruct mechanism. Although they were enemies, it did not sit entirely right with Pyrrha’s conscience. “I would ask that you trust me on this; there is cause to believe it. Cinder has cause, and I — we — know of no one else of whom we can say the same.”

“But I … but she…” Amber began.

“Amber?” Pyrrha asked, not really understanding what she was trying to say.

“Amber,” Dove murmured, putting his arms around her, his hands upon her arms just beneath the shoulders.

Amber shook her head. “She, Cinder, she’s here?”

“She is in Vale, or was, if our suspicions are correct,” Pyrrha said. “But Vale is not Beacon, and while I must confess it is concerning that she could come there, nevertheless, Vale is not Beacon. Please, do not be too afraid. I tell you this because it is true, and because you deserve and because perhaps you should be on your guard, but I beg you, do not be too afraid.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Professor Ozpin may have some additional thoughts on how to protect you once Sunset tells him all of this, but until then … I will ask Yang to keep you company during Sunset and I’s match this morning; she is strong and valiant. Perhaps Ruby also would not mind giving the fight a miss and stay with Amber instead? “And then Sunset and I will return swiftly. Perhaps … I hesitate to confine you, but in the circumstances, perhaps it would be best if you stayed in our dorm room today, out of sight.”

Amber was silent. She clasped her hands together in front of her and bowed her head, as though it was her turn to pray for guidance or protection or both.

Pyrrha watched her but did not press her for a reply.

Dove, too, was silent, his arms still upon her, watching her; there was concern etched upon his face, but he said nothing.

Amber was silent a moment longer, and then another. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.

What are you thinking? What do you feel? How fearful is your heart?

“No,” she said as she opened her eyes and looked up, looking Pyrrha in the eyes. “No, I … I am afraid,” she admitted, her whole body trembling. “But I don’t want to … I don’t want to be caged again. I don’t want to be shut away; I don’t want to shut myself away.”

“You do not want to let the fear rule you,” Pyrrha said softly. She smiled. “That is very brave and very admirable.”

Amber glanced away from Pyrrha towards Dove. “I don’t want to be shut in a cage.”

Pyrrha reached out and took Amber’s hands in hers. “Then we will see you well-protected,” she promised.

“And,” Dove began, his voice uncertain, “if Ozpin—”

“Sunset will not allow him to put you in a cage, I hope,” Pyrrha said. “I shall not, but I hope that will not be necessary. Sunset has more regard for Professor Ozpin than some of us now have, but nevertheless, in his presence, she will fight for you, I have no doubt.”

Sunset walked across the courtyard. It was still too early in the morning for visitors, but there were a fair few students heading the other way to her, towards the cafeteria and towards their breakfast.

Sunset paid them very little mind. They were a blur to her, vague shapes in uniforms or combat gear, moving past her like mist or shadow, insubstantial. Her mind was on other things. Her mind was a maelstrom. Her mind leapt from thought to thought like a flea on the back of a dog.

Cinder was in Vale. Cinder had, at least, been to Vale, although she might not be there now. Cinder had killed Phoebe Kommenos. Cinder had been to Vale. Phoebe was dead. Cinder had killed her. Phoebe was dead.

Sunset felt no pity for Phoebe Kommenos. She had been … knowing what she knew, it was hard not to think that Phoebe had gotten what she deserved, although possibly others kinder than Sunset — Pyrrha or Ruby — might scold her for an attitude like that. But they had not felt Cinder’s soul and heart as Sunset had; they hadn’t felt the fear of Phoebe that Cinder, that Ashley, had felt; they hadn’t felt the pain of what Phoebe had done to Ashley, the humiliation. They might know what Phoebe had done to Cinder, but only in the vaguest terms since Sunset had couched them in the vaguest terms. They didn’t know … they hadn’t felt the way that Cinder had felt.

Having felt it, Sunset could understand why Cinder had wanted her revenge, wanted it so badly that she had been willing to take it even though it had grown cold indeed.

Had wanted it so badly that she had been willing to give away her presence in Vale.

Of course, and this is very much a good thing from our perspective, she doesn’t know that there’s anything worth concealing her presence for; she doesn’t know about Amber, thank goodness.

Also, thank goodness we didn’t go down to the carnival last night; if Cinder had spotted Amber down there … it hardly bears thinking about.

How much of this really bears thinking about?

For Celestia’s sake, Cinder, couldn’t you have let us enjoy the tournament in peace without having to worry about all this stuff?

Really, you have only yourself to blame for the fact that I’m about to tell Professor Ozpin your secret. If you didn’t want it to come out, you shouldn’t have put me in a corner like this.

Sunset’s ears dropped into the midst of her flaming hair.

Not that you’ll understand.

Forgive me.

“Sunset? Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset stopped, pulled up by the voice of Mal Sapphire of Team PSTL; the Atlesian huntress stood beneath the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the Beacon courtyard, hood down but the shadow of the statue obscuring her face a little nonetheless. She was waving one hand to attract Sunset’s attention, although it hadn’t worked out terribly well up until now.

Sunset shook her head as she made her way, a little curious, over to the statue and to Mal Sapphire. “Sorry,” she said softly, “my head was … somewhere else.”

“It’s fine,” Mal said quickly. “I’m feeling a little bit like that myself, ever since they told us…”

“Yeah,” Sunset muttered. “Yeah, I can imagine.” She paused for a moment, thrusting her hands into her pockets as she looked around. “Where are your teammates?”

“Thorn is with Lycus,” Mal explained. “Although I’m not entirely sure where that is right now. In Atlas, when Lycus … when it all gets too much for him, he goes up onto the roof; Atlas is just one big tower, you see, so from the roof, you can see all the way out across the city and beyond. It’s a beautiful view, even if it is a long way up. Lycus likes to take the stairs because he says that just the climb helps with his mood, never mind the view. There isn’t really anything like that here.”

“The view from the cliffs isn’t bad,” Sunset suggested, “provided you don’t mind trees.”

“That … well … maybe,” Mal murmured. “Thanks for the idea.”

Sunset took a step back, looking down at the black base of the statue. There was no sign of Sky’s picture, or of the flowers that had been left for him.

“After the Breach, there was a little memorial here to the student that died,” she said. “I’d suggest something similar, but with all of the tourists, I’m not sure that it would be allowed.”

“That’s fine,” Mal said. “When we get back to Atlas, Lycus can put her picture up on These Are My Jewels if he wants to, and maybe her … maybe there’ll be something for her in Mistral. I know that she had a lot of family history there.”

“Yes, so I understand,” Sunset murmured. “It was a storied line.”

Mal nodded. “That … we don’t really have those in Atlas; the old noble families were either purged before the war, or they died in the war, or they faded into irrelevance pretty quickly afterwards with everything that was changing. The closest thing we have is the Schnee family, and that’s only three generations old.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “I am … I lived in Atlas before I came to Beacon.”

“Oh,” Mal said. “Right. I didn’t know that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you what dust is. Anyway, the point is … well, I suppose that I don’t know what it’s like in Mistral the way you know what it’s like in Atlas; maybe the other old families will honour her in some way … or maybe they’ll forget, since her family doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t know if she did anything for her family. But whatever, the real point is that Lycus can honour her back in Atlas, I suppose.”

Sunset noted that she hadn’t said anything about either her or Thorn honouring Phoebe, but she didn’t comment upon the fact. She didn’t want to get into that; in fact, she didn’t really want to be here at all; she wasn’t sure why she was here. She didn’t know — and wasn’t in much of a mood to speculate — as to why Mal had flagged her down the way she had. What did she want?

“I’m not,” Mal began, but then stopped, pausing. “It’s considered bad form to speak ill of the dead, and I wouldn’t want to say anything that would be frowned on in etiquette class. But, or should I say nevertheless … I’m sorry about what happened in the dining hall back there; it was … rude and uncalled for, and it doesn’t reflect opinions among the entire team, much less amongst the Atlas students generally. If you’re worried that this is going to precipitate some sort of hostility—”

“I wasn’t,” Sunset said, “I, we, have enough friends amongst the Atlas students that I wouldn’t expect that.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Mal said. “Rosepetal, Tsunami, Blake Belladonna … although I’m a bit surprised that the rest of Rosepetal have forgiven you for tempting one of their teammates away from Atlas.”

“We didn’t tempt Penny anywhere; she chose to come to Beacon,” Sunset said, a touch of terseness creeping into her voice.

“Right, sure,” Mal said quickly, raising both hands in a pacific gesture. “I’m sorry, I … I’m really not very good at this. I … I’m sorry. I meant no offence, I promise. Please accept my apology.”

Does she think that I’m going to hit her or something if I don’t accept it? Sunset wondered, before she remembered who Mal’s team leader was. She didn’t know how Phoebe had treated her teammates — Lycus certainly seemed to be broken up about her death, so she must have treated him okay — but, well, the chimera didn’t change its stripes, did it?

“It’s fine,” Sunset said. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused for a moment. “You’ll excuse me, but I was on my way—”

“Yes, sorry,” Mal apologised again. “I just wanted to say … I suppose I’ve said it, but I’m sorry about the way that Lycus confronted your teammates. We don’t think that she did it, and I don’t think that he does either. I … I have no idea what happened, but it seems so strange to think of a student from one of the academies committing a murder.”

“I agree,” Sunset said, which was easy when she knew — or at the very least strongly suspected — who had done it. “It doesn’t matter. I think that Pyrrha was able to defuse the situation with her words; if anything stuck, I would be surprised — or I might not be so forgiving, I must admit. But nobody … I don’t think anybody will take it seriously, and … if anything deserves to be forgiven, it's somebody in the throes of grief. I hope…” Now, it was Sunset’s turn to trail off, searching for the right words. Searching, moreover, for words which, if they conveyed no truth or profundity, at least appeared to be more than the regurgitation of shallow cliche. “It, um … it’s hard to know what to say that doesn’t sound banal, stale, and said too often, devoid of real sentiment or sympathy. To be honest, I’m not sure that I ought to wish for it to stop hurting him.”

“No?” Mal asked.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “I think … it ought to hurt, when you lose someone close to you. If it doesn’t, if it ever stops hurting, isn’t that a sign that you’ve forgotten them?”

“Or that you’ve moved on from it,” Mal suggested.

“How is that any different, other than that it’s phrased in such a way as to suggest a positive?” Sunset asked, and as she asked it, she could not help thinking about Cinder’s diatribe upon the subject on the night after the dance.

“I will not move. Not one step.”

“I … you can’t grieve forever,” Mal said. “You’ll destroy yourself. I think that Phoebe … it doesn’t matter.”

“Pyrrha’s thoughts are with Lycus, no doubt,” Sunset declared. “You can tell him that. It might be better than telling him what I just said.”

“Y-yes,” Mal murmured. “But I’m glad … there are no hard feelings. Now I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said quietly. “I hope … Lycus isn’t the only one who has my sympathy.”

Mal didn’t say anything, but she nodded.

Sunset nodded back at her and resumed her journey towards the tower.

With so many of the students headed towards the cafeteria, the way to the tower itself was not so crowded, although there were more Atlesian combat robots in the vicinity of the tower than elsewhere, and the guards upon the tower itself. Still, neither human nor robotic guards hindered Sunset in her progress, and she walked through the doors into the green-lit lobby of the tower itself.

It occurred to Sunset that perhaps she ought to have called ahead, if only to make sure that Professor Ozpin was both in his office and not busy. But the only times when Professor Ozpin didn't seem to be in his office appeared to be either when he was making announcements to the student body or popping up behind you like some sort of ninja to dispense sage wisdom — Sunset checked behind her to make sure she hadn't missed him — so she was reasonably confident that he would be at the top of the tower.

And if he wasn't, the elevator probably wouldn't let her go up that far.

As for whether he was busy, well, if he was, then he could always tell Sunset to go and she would go, and come back later.

So Sunset summoned an elevator and stepped into the first one available.

She used her scroll to confirm her identity and pushed the button to take her all the way up to Professor Ozpin's office on the very top of the tower.

The lift did not reject her request, but rather began to grind upwards, throbbing and thrumming as it carried Sunset slowly up and up.

Sunset breathed in and out.

"Hello, Professor, there's something that I've been sitting on for a bit that I've decided to finally tell you about."

I had good reasons for keeping it a secret.

Although I'm not sure Professor Ozpin will consider 'Cinder asked me not to spread her secrets around, and I promised I wouldn't' as a good reason.

It's not as though it would have really helped to have known the truth about her childhood, would it? It doesn't change who she is or what she's up to now.

Well, I suppose it did change what she was up to in Vale last night.

How was I to know that she was going to be in Vale last night?

Perhaps I should have known that she'd go after Phoebe.

I didn't think that she would be able to reenter Vale so easily.

We all thought that she was done. Now, Cinder has reminded us that it is not so.

Was that part of the point of this, Cinder? I know that you did it for your revenge, because of what she did to you, but at the same time, did you seek to remind us that you're still there and that your fangs are sharp? Or was it a mistake on your part to rouse us from our complacency?

If it had been part of a plan on Cinder's part, it was difficult to see what she gained by it, although of course, that was not to say that Cinder didn't gain anything by it, just that Sunset wasn't smart enough to work out what it was.

What, if anything, do you gain by a death? By this death?

"I gain my comfort, Sunset; I gain my peace, I gain my vengeance, I gain the sweet satisfaction of a nightmare banished. In this, I kill not only foe but fear itself." Sunset could hear Cinder's voice in her head, every word overemphasised and lingered upon in that theatrical manner than she had.

"Yes, Cinder, but how does that help you on your path to victory?"

In Sunset's head, Cinder laughed at that. "How does it help? Sunset, this is the Vytal Festival! In Mistral, it is a holiday, and nobody works towards their higher goal upon a holiday. You must allow a girl a little fun as this great celebration reaches its conclusion."

I hope that's all it is, Cinder.

The lift slowed to a halt, and the door opened with a soft beeping sound; Sunset stepped out into Professor Ozpin's office, her footsteps quiet compared with the grinding of the gears above.

Professor Ozpin was present, and he was alone, standing with his back to Sunset and the elevator, looking out of the immense windows at the world spread out beneath him. Sunset wondered if he could see the preparations in the fairgrounds for the second day of the tournament, or if his perch was too lofty to see so low.

Professor Ozpin looked over his shoulder. "Miss Shimmer," he said in a tone of mild surprise.

Sunset took a few steps forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Professor."

"Not at all, Miss Shimmer, not at all; I was merely observing the state of affairs," Professor Ozpin said as he turned around and walked back to his desk. "It occasionally does me good, I find, to look out and remind myself of what we are fighting to protect. Not, of course, that I do much fighting these days." He smiled, but only slightly and very briefly too. "What can I do for you, Miss Shimmer?" he asked as he sat down.

Sunset approached, until she was perhaps half a dozen paces away from the desk, the shadows of the gears above passing over her face. She clasped her hands together behind her back as though she were an Atlesian soldier and it was General Ironwood who sat before her. "You … are you aware that an Atlesian student died last night, Professor?"

Professor Ozpin nodded solemnly. "I am, Miss Shimmer; a very sad business. My thoughts are with her surviving teammates, of course."

"Of course, Professor," Sunset murmured. "Professor … Professor, I think that this was Cinder's work."

Professor Ozpin went very still, as if a cockatrice had ridden up in the elevator alongside Sunset and petrified him. He stared at her, unblinking, his grey eyes inscrutable, but his very stillness did not suggest that he was taking the news particularly well.

"Cinder Fall," he murmured.

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said, the words sounding heavy as they dropped out of her mouth.

Professor Ozpin continued to stare at her; it might have been Sunset's imagination, but she could have sworn that she saw the lines on his face deepening. "She returned to Vale?" he asked. His mouth opened, and Sunset heard the beginning of a 'wh' sound, or thought she did, but Professor Ozpin did not finish the word, let alone the thought, before he changed tack, "Miss Shimmer…" Again, he trailed off, falling silent.

He turned his chair around, putting his back to her, looking once more out of his window as an Atlesian airship glided by, temporarily obscuring most of the view of the immense Mistralian battleship floating above the city.

Sunset said nothing. She waited, patiently, for the professor to speak; even her tail was utterly still.

"Must move more swiftly. I should have…" Professor Ozpin murmured, speaking more to himself than to Sunset. He raised his voice, "Miss Shimmer, where is Amber now?"

"I left her in the dining hall, Professor," Sunset said, "with Pyrrha and the others."

"Have them bring her here, at once," Professor Ozpin said. "And if possible, have Miss Xiao Long join us also."

"Uh, yes, Professor," Sunset said. "At once." She turned away — not that there was much point, with him already having turned away from her — and fished her scroll out of her jacket pocket, opening it up and selecting Pyrrha's name out of her address book.

It did not take long at all for Pyrrha's face — with sky beyond it; she had obviously gone outside — to appear on the screen of Pyrrha's scroll. "Sunset," she said, "How did—?”

"Hey, Pyrrha," Sunset said, cutting her off. "Amber's with you, right?"

Pyrrha nodded. "And Dove, too."

"Good," Sunset said. "I need you to keep hold of them and bring them, Ruby, Jaune, and Yang up to Professor Ozpin's office."

"Yang?"

"Yes, and Yang, too," Sunset said.

"Right away?"

"Right away, yes."

Pyrrha frowned, but nodded. "Very well; we'll be there shortly."

"I'll see you then," Sunset said, before hanging up on her.

"Mister Bronzewing too?" Professor Ozpin asked.

Sunset turned around, to see that Professor Ozpin had done likewise and now looked at her from over his desk.

Sunset folded her scroll and put it away. "Yes, Professor," she said. "I take it that's not a problem."

"No," Professor Ozpin said softly. "No, I suppose it's for the best. She would … hate me, else." He paused, but not for long, seconds at most. "I take it that you have no objections to General Ironwood joining us in this meeting, Miss Shimmer? I think that he should hear this."

Sunset's arms fell down to her sides. "No, Professor," she said. "I understand why this would concern him."

Professor Ozpin tapped the transparent surface of his desk, bringing up a holographic interface over which his fingers moved nimbly.

A holographic screen appeared, divided into three, with the faces of not only General Ironwood but also of Professor Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen.

"Jimmy, Glynda," Qrow said. "Something up, Oz? We normally have these meetings in person?"

Professor Ozpin tapped a button on his interface, and the three images flickered for a moment.

"Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch murmured; obviously, Professor Ozpin had reversed the direction in which the three were looking, so that they faced her instead of him.

"Professor," Sunset murmured.

"Miss Shimmer has come to me with…" Professor Ozpin trailed off as he walked around the desk to stand, not exactly beside her but at least in her vicinity, in view of General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch, and Qrow. "Perhaps you had better tell them, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. She took a deep breath and focussed her attention on General Ironwood. "General, I believe that your student, Phoebe Kommenos, who was found dead this morning, I think … Cinder is responsible."

"Cinder?" Qrow repeated. "She's in Vale?"

"If Miss Shimmer is correct," Professor Ozpin said.

"Why?" General Ironwood asked. "Why would Salem be interested in an Atlas student?"

"It wasn't for Salem, sir," Sunset said. "It was for Cinder herself. Phoebe Kommenos is, was…" — she swallowed, for her throat was dry — "Cinder's stepsister."

There was a moment of silence.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

"You didn't know about this, Jim?" Qrow asked.

"I didn't know that Kommenos had a stepsister," General Ironwood said. "I didn't know that she had a stepfather; applying for Atlas, she told me that her father was dead and her mother had raised her and her sister alone. Miss Shimmer, how do you know this?"

"I…" Sunset raised her hand, opening and closing it in front of her face. "My semblance is … empathy, or touch telepathy, or more accurately, it's a bit of both. I touch people with my bare hand, and I can see their memories, feel what they are feeling — in fact, the default of it is that their emotions guide which of their memories I see. On the night that Cinder was revealed as an agent of Salem, I fought with her, and I touched her arm. My semblance activated, and I saw her memories of her past: Cinder's father married Lady Kommenos after his own wife died, and after he died too, Cinder was left in her stepmother's care. It…" Sunset hesitated. There were things that Professor Ozpin — and the others, she supposed — needed to know, but surely, they didn't need to know all the details. They didn't need to know what Cinder had gone through to turn Ashley Little-Glassman into Cinder Fall. "It didn't go too well for her. They were cruel. Phoebe was especially cruel."

"A bully," Professor Goodwitch murmured.

"Worse than a bully, Professor," Sunset said softly.

Professor Goodwitch looked at her, green eyes unblinking behind her spectacles. "I see," she said quietly, in a tone that made it hard to say if she truly saw or not.

"And you believe that Cinder murdered Miss Kommenos out of revenge for this … childhood mistreatment," Professor Ozpin said.

"I do, Professor," Sunset said. "She … Cinder killed her mother and her other stepsister; she set the fire that burned down the house with them inside. It seems … logical that she would want to kill Phoebe as well."

"Makes sense to me," Qrow muttered. "Honestly, it's far from the worst thing that she's done."

"Qrow," General Ironwood growled.

"Don't give me that, James," Qrow replied. "Not all of us were lucky enough to have dads who sprayed water on the roof with a hosepipe so you could fall asleep on the night of your big exam. I used to fall asleep dreaming about cutting my old man's throat while he slept because of the way he treated us."

"And did you?" asked General Ironwood.

"No, I cut it off in battle; he was leading a raid on some podunk village, and I happened to be nearby," Qrow said. "But it was still a good day. This Cinder girl has done some real evil: what she did to Amber, attacking Vale. That, I'll condemn. But sometimes, the monsters in your family give you as little choice as the grimm out there, and I won't condemn anyone for doing what they have to, no matter what kind of person they turn out to be afterwards."

"For justice?" asked General Ironwood.

"For peace," Qrow corrected him. "For a little … closure, I guess."

"That's as may be," General Ironwood said, before he fixed Sunset with a baleful gaze, "but that doesn't change the fact that you knew about this, you've known for months, and you didn't say anything!"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you keep silent, Miss Shimmer?" asked Professor Ozpin calmly.

"Because," Sunset swallowed again, "because Cinder asked me to, Professor. She wasn't thrilled about my knowing the truth about her past; she didn't want anyone else knowing it either."

"So you kept it entirely to yourself?" asked Professor Goodwitch.

"I … told my teammates before Cinder called with the message inviting us to Mountain Glenn," Sunset admitted. "She wasn't particularly happy that they knew, particularly not that Pyrrha knew, and she was very insistent that I not tell anyone else. She told me that she had a right to the privacy of her past, and I agreed with her."

"The privacy of her past has gotten one of my students killed," General Ironwood growled. "If any of what you say is true; that isn't the Kommenos that I knew."

"You can't have it both ways," Qrow said. "Either Sunset here kept the truth from you, which might have gotten the girl killed but also means that she sounds like she had it coming, or it isn't true, in which case—"

"The fact that Cinder Fall believed it still means that there was a target on Kommenos' back," General Ironwood said. "If I had known, I would have—"

"What would you have done, James?" asked Professor Ozpin. "Spirited her away to Atlas for safekeeping? Set a guard upon her?"

"Perhaps both," General Ironwood replied. "Did it not occur to you that you might be putting Kommenos in danger by keeping Cinder's confidence?"

"General, I would put money on Phoebe having put Pyrrha in danger by spreading rumours about her that goaded her into challenging Cinder to a duel to the death," Sunset said. "All I did … Cinder had been chased out of Beacon; first, she was at Mountain Glenn, and then … I didn't think that she could get back into Vale. I didn't think that their paths would ever cross again. I knew that Cinder had motive, but I didn't expect her to ever get the opportunity."

"What's done is done," Professor Ozpin said. "Recriminations cannot bring Miss Kommenos back. James, it is pointless to cast blame in this. None of us expected that Cinder Fall would be able to reenter Vale."

"If she did," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Miss Shimmer offers a compelling motive, but no proof."

"True, Glynda, but I suggest that we proceed on the assumption that Miss Shimmer is correct, if only for Amber's safety," Professor Ozpin said.

"What's the plan, Oz?" Qrow asked. "Tell the cops who are already supposed to be looking for Cinder? How did she even get past the gate?"

"We don't know the semblances of her confederates," Professor Goodwitch said. "Or Cinder's own semblance. Perhaps one or more of them has some ability that allows them to infiltrate past Vale's defences."

"Something happened when my team caught up with them," General Ironwood said. "According to Captain Ebi's report, one minute, they had Cinder's team on the ropes, the next … he describes it like a madness coming over them."

"Great, somebody has a semblance that can mess with your head," Qrow growled. "Those are the worst kind." He paused for a moment. "Maybe the second worst."

"I do not wish to risk the police prying into our secrets by having them question Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said, "but I will politely request that they redouble their vigilance for Cinder Fall, for whatever good that may do. In the meantime, James, I would be grateful if you could have your units begin searching Vale, beginning with the area around the crime scene. It is possible, at least, that Cinder may have gone to ground nearby; your people may have better luck in a second round."

General Ironwood nodded. "I'll get them on it right away."

"I could take a look around, too," Qrow offered. "I might hear something Jimmy's Atlesian special operatives drown out with their boots crashing around."

"No, Qrow, I have something else I need you to do," Professor Ozpin.

At just that moment, the elevator pinged. The door opened, and out stepped Pyrrha, Amber, Dove, Ruby, Jaune, and Yang.

"Professor," Pyrrha said, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I apologise if we kept you waiting."

"Not at all, Miss Nikos; you're all just in time," Professor Ozpin said, venturing a slight smile. "Please, come in, Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long, Mister Arc, Mister Bronzewing. Amber."

"Ozpin," Amber said softly, so softly that Sunset couldn't discern a tone in her voice.

"Professor Goodwitch," Yang said. "Uncle Qrow?"

"Hey, kids," Qrow said. "Oz, what's Yang doing here?"

"Oh, thanks a lot, Uncle Qrow!" Yang said, bristling visibly. A red tint entered her eyes as she planted both hands upon her hips.

Qrow sighed. "I didn't mean … I'm sorry, kiddo, I just—"

"If we may continue," Professor Ozpin said. Nevertheless, despite having said that he paused for a moment. "It has been brought to our attention that, last night, Cinder Fall may have entered into the city of Vale and taken the life of one of General Ironwood's students. While we had always considered the possibility that Vale might be unsafe, and my requirements that Amber should be accompanied by at least all four members of Team Sapphire in the city reflected that, nevertheless, the events of last night have brought home to the precariousness of our position. Therefore, I have decided to accelerate our plans. Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long, as soon as the Vytal Tournament is over, I would like you to take Amber … and Mister Bronzewing to Patch, to your home, to stay with you and your father until I can find a more permanent residence for Amber. Qrow, I want you to go with them also."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Oz?" Qrow asked.

"There is no one that I trust more, Qrow," Professor Ozpin replied, calmly but firmly at the same time.

Qrow was silent for a moment. "Okay," he grunted. "If you're sure."

"Patch," Amber murmured. "Where is Patch? What's it like?"

"It's an island just off the coast of Vale, a little to the west of here," Ruby explained. "It's kind of small, and kind of quiet, especially at our house because it's … a little bit out of the way."

"It's a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere," Yang said.

"But it's really nice and cosy," Ruby insisted. "It's comfortable, and Dad has a great garden that he takes really good care of, with sunflowers and roses and all kinds of flowers, and then, like Yang said, there are woods all around with badgers and foxes and rabbits, and cliffs with … with a really great view of the sea."

"That … that does sound lovely," Amber agreed. She smiled a little. "It almost sounds like the sort of place I might like to stay forever."

"That won't be possible, I'm afraid," Professor Ozpin said. "Secluded as it is, there is always a chance that our enemies might seek to look for you at Tai's house. This is a stopgap measure, nothing more."

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, of course it is. I see."

"But we'll have some fun while you're with us," Yang assured her. "Make some memories that you'll never forget. Hey, does this mean that I'm part of the club now? Can I come to all your secret meetings?"

"This isn't a game, Yang," Qrow said.

"No, it's not a game; it's the biggest thing in the world, and you kept me on the outside of it while letting Ruby stroll through the door," Yang said, all levity dropping from her tone.

Qrow didn't meet his niece's eyes.

Professor Goodwitch said, "You have a right to your frustration, Miss Xiao Long, but you are correct; from this moment, you are, as you say, in the club. Where I always thought you belonged."

That last sentence was accompanied by a brief glare in Qrow’s direction.

"Professor?" Jaune said, raising his hand a little. "If … if it's so urgent to get Amber away, and I guess I can see why you want to, why wait until the tournament is over? Why not send Amber to patch right now?"

"Because Miss Xiao Long is still due to fight in the tournament, and even Miss Rose's absence would be noted if she were to suddenly disappear while her team was still in contention," Professor Ozpin explained. "Even if they were to leave unseen, their vanishing might be noticed and, on being noticed, might invite questions that could point to Patch. It will be better to take advantage of general dispersal at the end of the tournament, as students from all the academies return home to their own kingdoms to prepare for the new academic year at their own schools. Amidst everyone else going home, Miss Rose and Miss Xiao Long doing so will not be noted."

"So … until then," Sunset began, then hesitated because once she had asked the question she wouldn't be able to ignore the answers that she — or Amber, more importantly — didn't like. "Until then … are there to be any changes to Amber's … arrangements?"

Amber went very still, her eyes flickering between Sunset and Professor Ozpin.

No one spoke as the gears of the clock ground on above them.

Professor Ozpin held out his hands in front of him, looking as though he wished he had his cane so that he would have something to hold or lean on. "What do you think, Miss Shimmer?" he asked. "Or any of you?"

"I think … that Cinder, having had her revenge, has little reason to remain in Vale or to return again, not knowing that Amber is awake," Sunset said. "And I think, Professor, that if Amber is to be spirited away so soon, then it would be a shame if … if she couldn't make the most of her last couple of days with us. Amber wanted to go down to the carnival tonight; I don't know if she still does, recent events might have changed her mind."

"I … I don't…" Amber trailed off. Dove took her hand, and Pyrrha placed a hand of hers upon her shoulder. "I suppose … I suppose I am afraid," Amber went on. "But I don't … I don't want to let my fear … I don't want it to keep me prisoner, the way that…" She didn't finish, but the conclusion was obvious, and so was the way that Professor Ozpin flinched from the unspoken accusation. "If I do have to go back into a dark box soon, I want to live in the light as much as I can before that."

"It's a large crowd," Professor Goodwitch warned. "A lot of noise, a lot of people."

"It won't just be the four of us, Professor," Sunset said quickly. "Team Rosepetal will join us too, and Blake, and Yang too, I hope."

"Fine by me," Yang said. "Just happy to be included."

"That's nine people, since Twilight doesn't really count and shouldn't be counted," Sunset went on. "We can arrange a comprehensive plan for Amber's protection; we've done it before for her first trip into Vale."

"The circumstances will be more challenging this time," Professor Ozpin warned.

"Yes, Professor, I'm sure, but I'm also sure that we can adapt to that," Sunset declared. "Please, Professor, I … I understand your concerns, but I ask that you … do not let Amber's last days here be nothing but grey misery of anticipating her impending departure. As Amber says, let the light shine a little longer."

Professor Ozpin did not offer an immediate response. Eventually, after some little time marked by the incessant sounds of the clock above had passed, he said, "You will provide me with your plan for Amber's protection; I will approve it, or Amber will remain here at Beacon."

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. "Of course."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Very well then," he said quietly. "I … it was never my wish to make you unhappy Amber, only to keep you safe."

"And the magic," Amber whispered.

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. "Yes," he admitted. "And the magic." He opened his eyes again. "I shall look forward to seeing your plan, Miss Shimmer, but for now, I think that you and Miss Nikos should prepare for your match, the opening bout of the day."

Sunset chuckled. "Yes, Professor, I suppose we better had."

Professor Ozpin almost smiled. "I know I probably shouldn't say this, especially in front of General Ironwood, but: best of luck, to both of you."

And We Have a Reputation (New)

And We Have a Reputation

The Amity Colosseum hung in the sky above, but Yang was down on the ground below, with Amber and Dove.

It was kind of a pity that she wouldn't get to see Pyrrha and Sunset's two-on-two fight — contrary to what she had told Ren and Nora, she would have enjoyed watching it — but you couldn't on the one hand complain that you'd been left out of all the secret stuff and then complain again when you were asked to start pulling your weight.

And besides, while she was a little disappointed, Yang could stand to miss the fight more than Penny, or maybe even more than the other Atlesians.

Than the Atlesians, she supposed she ought to say; Penny was kind of pretty much a Beacon student already.

Just like Blake was pretty much already an Atlesian.

Yang wondered idly if they would be getting Penny next year, to replace Blake; that might not be so bad: Team SAPR certainly appeared to like her, and she seemed a nice enough person. But there was something … not something bad, not at all, but something … something about her. Yang couldn't explain it, but … it was like there was something going unsaid, something…

Something that other people know about her but I don't.

More secrets.

More secrets that Ruby was keeping from her.

Maybe. She hoped not.

Or at least I hope there's a good reason if she is.

Yang sighed and leaned forward just a little bit. The grounds were starting to fill up now, as day two of the tournament got under way, but it was not too crowded just yet — although it would be soon, the way more people kept spilling off the airships that seemed to dock at the platforms one after the other like they were on a conveyor belt — and so, she, along with Amber and Dove, had managed to get a table in the northeast corner of the fairground that was reserved as a seating, eating, and drinking area.

For Yang, the Mistraliano in a cardboard cup and the bacon bap with brown sauce wrapped in paper sitting on the table in front of her covered that off. She wouldn't normally have eaten again so early in the day, certainly nothing so big, but she was going to be burning off a lot of calories later on today, and it was going to be so crowded that lunch might not be possible.

Out of the corner of Yang's eye, she spotted a little girl wearing an immense blonde wig that was so big that it nearly swallowed up her whole head underneath it, not to mention the way it spilled down to the ground behind her. Yang was kind of amazed that she could see out of it, the way her eyes were hidden by the wig's bangs.

Or maybe she couldn't see and needed her mom to guide her around.

It took Yang a little while to realise, since the little girl wasn't really dressed like her at all, but after a few seconds, it occurred to her that those yellow cardboard tubes that the girl was wearing on her arms might be Ember Celica.

And I do have … quite a lot of hair.

Not that that was a bad thing, of course. Yang liked her hair, she liked the colour of it, she liked the shape of it too, the volume. She liked the glossy sheen it had as well, but she had to admit that that was getting a little harder to maintain because there was getting to be just so much hair that it was becoming a bit of a trial to wash in the mornings.

On the other hand, it does make me recognisable.

A smile crossed Yang's face. I've got a fan. I've got a fan!

At least somebody thinks I'm awesome.

Although — and no offence to the little girl in question — if somebody was going to recognise her qualities, she would rather that it be someone … closer.

Finally in the club, and I'm still upset.

No, I'm not upset, I'm broody. I've got things to be broody about.

"Yang," Amber's voice was an interruption to Yang's thoughts, an intrusion, albeit a gentle one like someone standing in the doorway tapping lightly on the door with their knuckles. "Yang, is everything alright?"

"I should probably be asking you that, shouldn't I?" Yang asked as she straightened up. She couldn't get too lost in her own thoughts; she had a job to do, after all, and it might lead to more jobs afterwards if this went well. "But, if you don't mind, I'd rather ask you something else."

Amber rested her hands and her forearms upon the plastic table. Her hands were close together but not quite touching. "Ask me what?"

"What's it like, being special?" Yang asked. "What's it like being so important that everyone is always looking at you, thinking about you, everything is always about you? What's it like—?"

"Being hunted?" Amber asked. "Attacked? Wounded?"

Yang was silent for a moment. She could see … the scars on Amber's face were always there, but makeup covered them so well that it was easy to not notice them sometimes, or to forget about them. But then there were other times when they seemed to stand out more on her face, like they were flaring up or something, times when you couldn't ignore them. Times like now.

"Well," she murmured, "I guess it's not all good."

"And besides," Amber went on, "I would have thought that you could have asked Pyrrha what it's like to be famous. She is very well known, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Yang agreed. "Yeah, she is, but that's not really what I'm talking about; I'm not interested in what it's like to be famous, a celebrity. Pyrrha … I like Pyrrha, but she's not…" Yang struggled to wrangle her thoughts into some form of coherent order.

"Fame," she said, "isn't the same as importance. All the stuff that makes Pyrrha famous, the trophies, the 'noble blood' that the Mistralians care about, none of it — with the exception of the fighting skill that got her the trophies, I guess, but anyway — none of it matters. If Pyrrha disappeared — not that I want her too, obviously — it wouldn't really … it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the world. You … people don't know who you are the way that they know who Pyrrha is, but at the same time, you're so much more important than she is."

Amber shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm not important at all—"

"You're important to me," Dove said, sliding his hand over to take hers.

Amber smiled. "And Pyrrha is important to Jaune, in just the same way," she reminded him as she took his head, their fingers intertwining. "And in a different way, important to Sunset also, and Ruby, but that isn't really what Yang is talking about. What Yang means, I think…" She looked at Yang again. "In the way you mean, I'm not important. I carry something important, something valuable and desired, but the worth is in the thing I bear, not in myself."

"I … guess," Yang admitted. "And I guess, in one way, Pyrrha is important: she was chosen by Ozpin to do his work for him."

"Is that what this is about?" asked Amber. "Do you feel … do you wish that Ozpin had chosen you?"

"He did," Dove pointed out.

"Yeah, eventually," Yang retorted. "He picked Team Sapphire to go and fight his enemies, he picked Pyrrha to—" She stopped herself, realising that Amber probably didn't know about the whole 'transfer Amber's aura to Pyrrha, definitely killing at least one and maybe both of them' plan. It probably wouldn't be a great idea to tell her, either.

"'Picked Pyrrha'?" Amber repeated. "Picked Pyrrha for what?"

"Oh, nothing," Yang said in what she hoped was a dismissive tone. "It's just, you know, Pyrrha, Sunset, they get to do stuff. Ozpin trusts them, even more than he trusts Ruby or Jaune. Certainly a lot more than he trusts me."

"And you want him to?" Dove asked. "You want him to trust you, the way that he trusts Team Sapphire?"

"Well … yeah," Yang said, as though that should have been obvious. "I mean, in a way, he trusts you more than he trusts me."

Dove laughed. "I don't think so."

"You don't?"

Dove hesitated for a moment. "Amber needs to have somebody with her, at all times, someone from an approved list chosen by Ozpin. That list includes you now, but it doesn't include me. I'm not trusted to keep Amber safe, although even Jaune is — alone."

"And does that bother you?" Yang asked.

"No," Dove said, although Yang wasn't entirely sure that she believed him. "I mean … if I'm being perfectly honest, it's a little bit grating that Jaune is now considered to be stronger than I am, given … well, you know, what he was like when the year began, but at the same time, Jaune helped me realise that getting upset about it wasn't going to make me stronger or keep Amber safe. And Amber's safety is the most important thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Yang agreed. "Yes, it is." She took a drink of her coffee before it got cold.

"I have to say," Dove went on, "I'm a little surprised that it bothers you, being left out."

Yang's eyebrows rose, disappearing into the recesses of her bangs. "Really?"

Dove shrugged. "On our first night at Beacon, you told me that you didn't want to settle down, and your dream was to travel across the four kingdoms," he reminded her. "Serving Ozpin doesn't seem compatible with that."

"I wouldn't be so sure; I think my uncle gets around," Yang said, before she realised what she'd said. "Not like that … well, maybe it's like that too, but anyway … the point is … my point is … why them and not me? I'm pretty much as strong as Pyrrha is, stronger than Jaune or Ruby, and I could punch Sunset's lights out if I could close the distance with her. I'm a good team leader, even Professor Goodwitch thinks so. I guess I don't like the implication that I'm not good enough. Not worthy enough."

"It is no great thing, to be found worthy," Amber murmured. She reached across the table with her free hand, sliding her slender fingers over the black fingerless glove that covered Yang's hand. The sunlight glinted off the golden bangles on Amber’s wrist. "Trust me when I say that it is no honour to be envious of." She smiled sheepishly, even as she looked down for a moment. "I am a … if I could have all of this time again, with Dove, to live simply, an ordinary life, unknown, no trouble to anyone, and all that I had to do was give up my burden? I would do it, in a heartbeat." She looked at Dove, and the smile that came upon her face banished the harshness of her scars. "Some things are more important than being important."

All very well for you to say, Yang thought, but nobody loves me either, so what does that leave me with? She didn't say that, though, because that wasn't Amber's fault and because it would have sounded kind of self-pitying too. Instead, she forced a smile and said, "Well, if simple is what you're looking for, then I'm sure Patch can oblige. Life's pretty simple there. I can't say that it's always peaceful in our house, but it is simple. Are you sure you're going to be okay, coming with us to lie low at our place for a while until Ozpin can find you something else?"

"I think it could be a good thing," Dove said, before Amber could speak. "Getting … away from it all." He put his other hand on top of hers. "Getting away from all of this … somewhere quiet and isolated." He smiled, although for a moment, it seemed as though his smile wasn't quite gonna reach his eyes, but it got there in the end. "Honestly, with what I've heard, it sounds a lot like home. And even more like Amber's home."

"Yes," Amber said softly. "Yes, I suppose it does. The cottage in the woods where my mother and I used to live, before…"

"I'd call it a cabin rather than a cottage," Yang said, "although … can cabins have more than one floor? Because we have two. We've only got one spare bedroom, but don't worry, I can share with Ruby, Amber can take my room, and Dove can have the spare room." She grinned. "Unless you'd like to sleep together."

Dove blushed. Amber's complexion made it hard to say if she was doing the same, but her whole body did go stiff and rigid as though she'd been shocked by some lightning dust. "I—" she began to splutter, before she hesitated, looking at Dove. "I … I mean … we could. If … if you wished."

Yang hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn; she'd just wanted to embarrass them a little bit and lighten the mood of the moment. Now, she found herself very quiet, not even breathing too loud in case she disturbed them.

Dove's eyes were fixed on Amber, blue points in an otherwise red face. But there was no embarrassment in his voice, only a certain uncertain trembling as he said, "You … you mean it?"

"I do," Amber said, sounding a little breathless, looking into Dove's eyes. For a moment, Yang was so put in mind of the answer to a different question that she wondered why Amber had replied like that, but of course, it did make sense.

Amber withdrew her hand from Yang's, brushing her fingertips across the tabletop as her hand made its way towards Dove, rising up his chest, stopping about halfway. Amber leaned a little towards him. "I … I don't know … I mean I've never," Amber murmured. "But I should like to. Would … wouldn't you? Wouldn't you like to … love me?"

"I would," Dove whispered, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I do. But … I mean, we're not—"

"You have my promise," Amber said, "and I yours. Is that not enough?"

Dove was silent for a moment. "It is," he said at last. "It will be."

They kissed, a very deep and, from what Yang could tell, judging by the way that their bodies pressed against one another, the way that their lips worked, the way that they seemed to be taking breaths as they kissed so that they could go on kissing; all in all, it seemed fair enough to say they were kissing a very passionate kiss.

Their bodies not just pressed against one another but starting to move.

As she watched, unable to take her eyes away, Yang felt a mixture of happiness for them, but at the same time, a sort of squirming discomfort in her stomach, a sort of … she didn't want to call it jealousy or envy or anything like that, but, well, as much as she didn't want to call it that, it kind of was.

After all, nobody loved her. Nobody wanted her.

That's not their problem though, is it?

No, no it isn't. They're happy, they've found happiness with one another; there's nothing wrong with that. They shouldn't have to pretend that they haven't just to spare my feelings.

Although, as she watched, as she couldn't help but watch, Yang began to wonder if they might not be getting a little too into it. When she'd suggested it, she certainly hadn't intended for them to start right now!

"Okay!" Yang said loudly, clapping her hands together. It was sufficient to get their attention; they jerked away from one another, both gasping for air a little, Dove's face still red.

"Well, that's certainly settled," Yang said cheerfully. "So, when we get home, the two of you can … well, you can take the spare room, can't you?"

"Your father won't mind?" Dove asked.

Yang shrugged. "Amber isn't his kid, so I doubt he'll care. And Uncle Qrow … Uncle Qrow can sleep on the couch, I guess. How does that sound?"

"It sounds … fine," Amber said softly. "It sounds … almost wonderful. If only…"

Yang leaned forward. "'If only' what?"

"Hey, you two!" Lyra called out as she and Bon Bon made their way towards the table. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Lyra reached the table, Bon Bon just a step behind. It was only at that point that Lyra appeared to notice Yang's presence. "Yang? What are you doing here?"

Yang glanced up at Lyra. "Oh, you know," she said, "just hanging out."

"Fair enough, I guess," Lyra muttered. She took the last remaining chair, leaving Bon Bon to grab another chair from a different table. "So, what's up?"

Neither Amber nor Dove spoke. Dove leaned a little closer to Amber, drawing him towards her once again, while Amber's eyes darted towards Bon Bon, but neither of them spoke.

"Um," Dove mumbled. "Well, uh … you see—"

"We're leaving," Amber blurted out, the words leaping out of her mouth like animals running away from a forest fire.

Bon Bon frowned. "You mean … you're leaving sooner than you thought you would?"

Amber nodded. "As soon as the tournament is over."

"As soon … you mean you're leaving in two days?" Lyra demanded. "The day after tomorrow, you're going to be gone?"

"Yes," Dove said softly. "So it would seem."

"But that's … that's hardly any time at all!" Lyra exclaimed. "We didn't know that you were going that early; how are we supposed to throw a proper goodbye?"

"That's hardly the most important thing, is it?" Dove asked.

"It is!" Lyra exclaimed. "Or at least, it might be." She looked from Dove to Amber and then back again. "I mean … why?"

"Because of that girl who died last night,” Yang said. “The Atlas student.”

"The girl whose teammates were really upset, right," Lyra murmured. "But … what does that have to do with Amber? Why does that suddenly make Vale so much more unsafe that he has to whisk you away like this?"

"Ozpin, Professor Ozpin, is … protective," Dove said. "That's all."

Lyra didn't reply to that. Instead, she paused for a second before saying, "So … where are you going? Does this mean you have a place to stay?"

Amber looked at Bon Bon for a second, although Bon Bon hadn't said anything and didn't really seem like she was going to. She was staring at her hands with wide eyes, and she'd been like that ever since Amber had announced that she'd be leaving.

"We—" Amber began.

Yang cleared her throat. They probably weren't supposed to tell anyone about taking Amber and Dove to Patch. They were supposed to lie low there, after all.

"Nowhere permanent, yet," Dove said.

"But you're both leaving," Lyra said quietly.

"Yes," Dove declared. "I can't … I won't leave Amber's side again. Never again."

"'Never again,'" Lyra repeated. "But … are we ever going to see you again?" She glared at Bon Bon. "And are you going to say something at some point?"

"I…" Bon Bon stood up, pushing her chair back as she did so. "I have to go. I'll be back." She turned away and began to stride away without another word of explanation.

It no doubt seemed strange to those who knew — Sunburst, for one, and others in Atlas too — that Tempest Shadow wasn’t up in the Amity Coliseum watching her two teammates battle for their glory and the glory of Atlas in the very first match of the second day of the tournament.

No doubt, they found it, if not strange, then at least very telling: a sign of her unsociable attitude, another indicator of the way that she didn’t really fit in, that she wasn’t a very good Atlesian, even if she was a pretty good huntress.

Well, let them think that; she’d be away from here soon enough, and free from all of them.

Soon, she would present the Relic of Choice to Salem, and then, she would be elevated so high. No more putting up with Trixie’s nonsense; no more having to listen to Starlight telling her to knock it off, to play nice, to go along to get along; no more having to pretend to have the slightest shred of respect for Sunburst.

No more having to bear any of them. Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Neon Katt, Blake Belladonna, they were all utterly unbearable. How did they manage to be so awful?

If they weren’t too loud, they were too cheerful, and if they weren’t too cheerful, they were too noble; one way or another, they were all nauseating. Tempest didn’t know how they could stand one another, or themselves.

Soon, she would be away from all of that. Free from them. Free from Cinder too, who — Tempest had come to realise — was every bit as bad as the Great and Powerful Trixie. They might not seem very similar, but when you scratched the surface, they were actually very much alike: each believing that they were following a star when, in truth, they were only guided by their respective delusions, both convinced that they were much more powerful, much more important than they actually were.

Cinder might actually be worse than Trixie, because for all her faults, at least Trixie lives in the present day. She might roll her rrrrrs too much at times and refer to herself in the third person, but at least she doesn’t go around acting like she just stepped out of some musty old book or as though, by sheer effort of will, she can transform the world to fit her fantasies.

You had to live in the world that you … lived in. There was no other choice. You took the world as it was: cold, cruel, and unforgiving, a place of hatred, suspicion, and mistrust.

A place where they would always see her as something less than human, so she would make them less than her.

Gods, she hated this place. She hated Atlas, she hated her fellow students, she hated the way that people’s eyes lingered a little too long upon her arm, she hated the way that the children who were, even now, starting to fill up the fairgrounds pointed at it and asked why she looked like a robot where she could hear, she hated the way that people obviously wanted to ask what it was like but didn’t actually have the courage to ask.

She hated the way that they all acted like they were such good, close, loyal friends, as though they wouldn’t drop any of their number the moment they took an injury like hers … just the way that her friends had abandoned her.

She’d like to rip Rainbow Dash’s arm out of its socket and see how many fine friends she had left after that.

Not many, Tempest was sure.

It was a cruel world, and Tempest hated all the people who pretended that it wasn’t.

But she would be gone soon. Out of their lives, as they were out of hers, she would be with Doctor Watts, who understood, who was sympathetic, who was appreciative, who alone in all of Remnant truly cared for her.

With Doctor Watts … and Salem.

When she brought Salem the Relic of Choice, she would be rewarded beyond her wildest dreams. For Sonata, the reward of victory would be freedom, but for Tempest, it would be … trust. A place at Salem’s right hand, the place that would soon be vacated by Cinder as she left this living world behind and went to … wherever the spirits of the dead went in the Mistraliad, perhaps.

Tempest would take her place, a more competent and reliable servant than Cinder had ever been, to take the lead in the assault on Haven, or Atlas, or even Shade perhaps, wherever Salem commanded that the next blow should fall.

She would take the Maiden powers of Spring or Winter or Summer, and she would open the next vault and take the next relic without the aid of Sonata Dusk or Amber. And she would do it much more quickly than Cinder had managed — and without spending so much time sitting around in a house, either.

Tempest wondered idly if she should recruit some minions. No, no, unlike Cinder, she had no need of such; she could do it all on her own. Anyone else would just slow her down — or stab her in the back.

Well … perhaps it might be nice to have someone around. Someone unthreatening. Someone weak, someone who wasn’t able to contribute anything but who could … amuse her upon occasion, someone she could talk to from time to time to stop herself from going mad in the confines of her own head.

Someone who could serve her as Emerald served Cinder, as a walking, talking sounding board.

Not Lightning Dust; Tempest wouldn’t trust her once this mission was concluded. She would chafe under Tempest’s leadership the way that she had chafed under Cinder’s; she was another one whose ego outstripped her ability by some distance.

Tempest would … suggest to Salem that she should be sent away on a diversionary assignment; if Tempest was going to Haven, then Lightning would go to Atlas or Shade, to mislead Ozpin and the others as to their true intentions — and hopefully get herself killed in a way that wouldn’t get any blood on Tempest’s hands.

She was not such a monster that she enjoyed the prospect of murdering her own allies, after all.

Tempest was stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, where they trailed away towards the empty, quiet parts of the grounds. Unfortunately, she couldn’t just take herself off to some secluded spot and wait out the day until all the crowds of tourists had gone; she had to be available in case something happened.

Something like whatever was causing Bon Bon to make her way over towards where Tempest lurked.

Tempest looked up, to where the Amity Coliseum hung in the skies over Beacon, with skybuses climbing up through the skies towards it, wings flapping lazily. Soon, it would all start, with Trixie and Starlight going up against Pyrrha Nikos and Sunset Shimmer.

Soon, Trixie’s dream would be dead, or else, Ozpin would be revealed to have chosen very poorly.

Don’t take it too personally, Trixie; all dreams die in the end.

It’s just that the absurd ones die first, that’s all.

Tempest lowered her gaze as Bon Bon drew near, although she affected to barely notice the other girl, presenting her side to her, not even turning her head.

“We have a problem,” Bon Bon said.

“Only one?” Tempest asked insouciantly.

Bon Bon’s mouth twisted as she seemed put off by Tempest’s response. “Amber’s being moved.”

Now, Tempest looked around; in fact, her head snapped around because if Bon Bon was correct, then that was bad news. This had the potential to be very, very bad news indeed. Amber was everything to their plan; without her … without her, they were reliant upon Cinder once again, and that was not a prospect that filled Tempest with joy.

It would almost be more than she could take.

Worse than that, if Amber was moved away … there was always the possibility that she might change her mind, especially if she felt safe and danger seemed far off.

“Why?” Tempest demanded. “When?”

“I don’t know why; Amber wouldn’t say,” Bon Bon said. “Or at least, she couldn’t say with Yang breathing down her neck. They’re spooked about something.” She paused. “Do you think it could have something to do with—?”

“The dead student?” Tempest finished for her. “Possibly, but what? A murder has been committed, but what of that, what makes it more dangerous for Amber to be at Beacon now than it was yesterday? It doesn’t make sense. She couldn’t tell you why, but she could tell you that she was being moved?”

Bon Bon nodded. “She told me — and Lyra too — that she and Dove are going away as soon as the tournament is over. She would have told me where she was going, but Yang cut her off.”

Tempest breathed a sigh of relief. “After the tournament, you say?”

“Straight after,” Bon Bon insisted.

Tempest waved that off with her prosthetic arm. “It doesn’t matter. Our business will be concluded with the tournament.”

“It will?”

“Obviously, because I’ll be leaving myself once the tournament ends,” Tempest reminded her. “If we were not done then, I would be shipped back to Atlas.” She paused for a moment. “Did she seem worried to you at all? About her impending departure?”

Bon Bon hesitated for a second. “I … I would say so, yes.”

“Then go back and reassure her,” Tempest said. “Tell her…” She paused while she searched for a discreet form of words that wouldn’t arouse suspicion in Amber’s minder, Yang — Yang; Tempest hadn’t known that she was involved in this. “Tell her that things can change very swiftly and that’s why it’s important to always be prepared.” She smirked. “And that goes for you as well.”

Bon Bon swallowed. “Is it … today?”

“Tomorrow,” Tempest said. It could have been done today, but Cinder — foolish as she was — wanted to let the tournament end first, and Tempest wasn’t ready to move against her yet, not until she had the Relic in hand.

“Tell her,” she instructed Bon Bon. “Tell her and bear it in mind.”

“I will,” Bon Bon said. She sighed and looked around. “I will,” she repeated, more quietly this time, before she turned around and hastened off.

Tempest remained where she was, poised on the edge of the fairgrounds, poised on the edge of greatness, alone, watching all those whom she held in contempt begin to fill up the space just as they filled the skies with their annoying chatter.

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I will get what I deserve.

Amber felt ill.

She wasn’t sure if it was one thing or many.

She hadn’t wanted to betray her friends. She didn’t want to harm Sunset or Pyrrha or anyone else. She didn’t want them to die in her defence, to stand between her and harm until there were none of them left, until they had all perished, one by one. Even though she had shown them the vault, it wasn’t because she wanted them to go down into the dark to fight in her stead and possibly not come out again.

That wasn’t what she wanted at all.

She hadn’t wanted to betray her friends, she didn’t want to betray them, but … but it didn’t seem that there was any other way. She didn’t want to betray anyone, but equally, she didn’t want to be hunted all her life either. It was like she had said to Yang: if she could have all her time back to lead a simple life, and all she had to do was give up her powers, then she would take that chance, without needing to think about it.

She couldn’t give up her power, but she could give up the Relic of Choice, and that was just as good when it came to freeing her from all of this, lifting the threat of Salem’s malice off her shoulders.

Salem’s threat, but not Cinder’s.

Cinder would not leave her alone just because Amber had given up the Relic of Choice. Cinder had … stolen half of her magic. It wasn’t something that they talked about, it wasn’t something that she had told Dove, it wasn’t something that Sunset or Pyrrha or even Ozpin had ever brought up. Nobody ever called her half a maiden, nobody ever made mention of the fact that she only had some of the magic left — they were all very kind in that regard, to spare her feelings so — but Amber could feel it, within herself.

There was … an emptiness inside of her. A hollow that had once been full. It was like … it was like being permanently tired, her heart pounding in her chest as though she’d just completed some strenuous exercise. It was like always feeling as though she had overdone it, and that if she kept on pushing herself, then she would falter and collapse.

Amber wondered if Cinder felt the same as she did, if she struggled with the magic she had stolen, if she felt tired even without doing anything? Or perhaps the thief had it easier than the person she had stolen from.

Cinder’s threat had not been lifted by the bargain that Amber had made with Bon Bon. Cinder would not be satisfied with the Relic. Cinder would want all of the magic; she would want to reunite both halves and become the undisputed Fall Maiden.

If not, then Bon Bon and her friends wouldn’t have been planning to kill her. But they were; they were going to kill her because they wouldn’t need her anymore once they had the Relic; they didn’t need the Fall Maiden’s magic, and they didn’t need a would-be Fall Maiden, so they were going to throw her away.

In that way, Amber thought, Salem and Ozpin were very similar: they used people for their own purposes, consumed them, ruined them, and cast them aside for someone else, and the whole process started again.

I suppose that means that Cinder and I are similar too.

It was almost enough to make Amber feel sorry for her.

Not quite enough, because Cinder had attacked her, scarred her face, stolen her magic, put her in a coma, and was the reason why Amber had not felt quite right since waking up, but it was almost enough.

Cinder chose this; I didn’t.

Cinder had chosen this, and she would choose to attack Amber if she had the chance, regardless of what agreements Amber had made or promises she had had from Bon Bon.

Amber felt that they could have killed Cinder already, but of course, she knew why they wouldn’t; Bon Bon … she hated Bon Bon. She could barely stand the sight of her now. Lyra was a dear, a true friend to Dove, always so pleasant, so cheerful, so earnest and genuine with her feelings, and with such a lovely voice as well, but Bon Bon? She was just another Ozpin, hiding evil behind a kindly smile.

Bon Bon didn’t really care about Amber, and because of that, she was perfectly willing to let Cinder wander around so that Amber would remember that she was there and why she needed to be a good girl and hand over the Relic of Choice.

Amber glanced at Dove. She knew … no, she suspected, because they hadn’t talked about it, but she suspected that he saw going to Patch as a way to get out of the bargain that she had made: go to Patch, hide where she couldn’t be found, let them whistle for their Relic.

Don’t betray anyone. She could understand why he thought that way, why he wanted it. It was … certainly tempting. Go to Patch, stay with Yang and Ruby and their father, love Dove. Do nothing. Stay hidden. Wait for Ozpin to find somewhere else to bundle her off to, and then wait there, staying hidden, shut up in some secluded place, hoping that Dove didn’t start to chafe at the confinement and blame her for it, hope that his love would be strong enough to stand against the strain of isolation.

Not that tempting after all.

It was all very well to say now that all they needed was one another, that they would sing like two birds in a cage, and in the walls of Ozpin’s prison would outlast scores of valiant warriors, brave Sunsets, and noble Pyrrhas cut down in Ozpin’s active service. But was it true? Would it really be true? Could even true love stand up to such? She hoped so, but she did not want to condemn Dove to a life that he would come to hate, nor suffer him to hate her for the condemning.

And besides, even if Dove understood all of that — and he probably did not, because Amber’s understanding was only complete enough to perceive the darkness that lay before them — then he did not understand the danger that they faced. He understood that she had been attacked, and now he understood why, but not what power drove on the attack; he didn’t understand that it was so much more than Cinder, and so much worse. He didn’t understand that it was an enemy who would outlast them all, who could never be beaten. An enemy who would never stop until … until she had all four relics in her possession.

The other relics are better guarded, and the other Maidens too. How will she get the Relics of Creation, Destruction, or Knowledge? Opzin already keeps the other Maidens as confined and hidden as he wished to keep me, and so he keeps the Relics safe.

He can afford to lose this one.

She did not regret her choice, even as she felt ill in her stomach.

This … this was … she hoped that she could get the Relic away and into the hands of Salem’s followers without bloodshed. If she could do that, if she could make it so that nobody had to die, then wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t it better to lose a crown than to lose the lives of Sunset, Pyrrha, all these people here at Beacon, Ruby, Jaune, Ciel, Blake, Penny — Yang too! What was a Relic that they should die for, or a Fall Maiden, for that matter?

They might call it betrayal, but if by a single act of treachery she averted a bloody battle and saved not only her own life but the lives of many others too … was that not a noble thing, by some lights at least?

She did not want anyone to die for her, nor did she want to die for the world. Therefore, she chose this path. It was not the most upright path, and she would not pretend that she didn’t understand why it made Dove uncomfortable, but it was the best path available to her.

Amber truly believed that.

This move to Patch … as tempting as it might be — for Dove at least — to go along with it and hope to get away from their enemies, for Amber, who had a better idea of how implacable those enemies were … she knew why Bon Bon had left in such a hurry, but she didn’t know what Bon Bon planned to do about it. If she assumed that she was attempting to break the terms of her agreement and escape, then … then Cinder might be loosed on her in truth like a tiger. If she assumed, correctly, that this was an unfortunate circumstance caused by Ozpin’s caution, then … what would she do? She might still decide it wasn’t worth abiding with Amber.

Or she might accelerate her plans.

It would have been so much easier if they could have talked about this openly. Amber didn’t mind Yang, she seemed a nice enough person, and that had been a very good idea of hers, that she and Dove should consummate their affections soon, but all the same, Amber rather wished that she would leave, so that she and Bon Bon could get on with things.

So that she could assure Bon Bon that she wasn’t trying to get out of anything, that she could be trusted if only Bon Bon would bear with her.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately,” Lyra said.

“Who?” Yang asked.

“Bon Bon!” Lyra declared. “She’s gotten downright squirrely lately, always sending me away or wandering off or slinking around corridors talking to weirdos.”

“'Weirdos'?” Yang asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.

“Well, Atlas students, which is the same thing a lot of the time, but don’t tell Rainbow Dash I said that,” Lyra said. “The point is, she’s been acting more strangely lately.”

“She has been through a lot,” Dove pointed out.

“I know that,” Lyra said. “We’ve all been through a lot, and anyway, this is after that. I’m not talking about how she was after Sky died, I could understand that even if I didn’t like it, this is more … it’s more recent. I don’t know. I love her, but there are times I feel like I don’t understand her.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand, eventually,” Amber said. “And when you do, it will all make sense.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Lyra murmured. “I hope you’re right.” She looked up. “Speak of the beowolf, where have you been?”

“Around,” Bon Bon said as she sat back down again.

Lyra’s eyebrows rose. “'Around'?” she asked, her tone inviting Bon Bon to continue.

Bon Bon nodded. “Around,” she repeated.

Lyra scowled. “You can’t just get up out of nowhere, stomp off without saying a word, then come back and refuse to say—”

“Lyra,” Bon Bon said, cutting her off. “I had to go because … because I was upset, about Dove leaving so soon, and Amber.” She looked at them, more at Amber than at Dove, despite what she’d said. “I’ll be sorry to lose you,” she said. “I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to both of you.”

Liar, Amber thought. You just want what I can give you.

“I get that, I’m sorry too,” Lyra said. “There was no call to be rude about it.”

“I was surprised, and I needed to go for a walk to think about it,” Bon Bon said. “I’ve grown very attached to Amber in the little while we’ve been together.”

There was a part of Amber that wanted to roast her alive. The fact that someone like this had been so close to Dove, had made him think that she was his friend, had comforted him in her absence … it made her skin crawl.

She hated the fact that she needed Bon Bon’s help.

“And … what did you think, when you were walking?” Amber asked quietly.

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. “I think … it’s the way things are, sometimes,” she said. She looked Amber right in the eyes, unblinking. “Things can change so suddenly, when we least expect. That’s why we always have to be prepared for when they do.”

Meaning that they are moving ahead, and swiftly, Amber thought. That’s what she’s telling me. They will try and take the relic before I leave.

Good. I can be free then, and Dove and I can go where we will, with no one to trouble us.

The sooner it is done, the better.

Will it be tonight?

“Because we weren’t able to go last night, and because I’d still like to have a little fun before I leave, Dove was going to take me to the carnival tonight.”

“Oh,” Bon Bon said. “That sounds nice. I hope you have fun there, and stay safe.”

Not tonight then. Tomorrow.

And tonight…

Amber wasn’t just going to the carnival for the fun of it. She had wanted to go, she had wanted to enjoy herself, the music, the dancing, the colours and sounds, all of it, but now … she was afraid of Cinder, she was afraid of the fire, afraid of the anger, afraid of the cruel look on her face as she had stood over Amber and started to steal her magic away. There was a part of Amber — the same part of her that wanted to roast Bon Bon — that would have welcomed the chance to cross paths with Cinder again: to wound her as Amber had been wounded, to scar her face, to pay back tenfold every injury that Cinder had inflicted upon Amber. But that part of her was outweighed, outnumbered, and outvoted by the part of her that was afraid that the result of the second contest might turn out even worse for her than the first.

No, Amber wouldn’t have dared to venture out with Cinder abroad except … except that Bon Bon needed her.

Salem needed her.

And because they needed her, they would have to see that she was well protected.

Even if that meant killing Cinder and giving her the security she craved.

Overall, Emerald thought that she had done a pretty good job with her disguise.

The fact that she was in Beacon and hadn’t yet been killed or arrested seemed to suggest that she had a right to feel that way.

Of course, this wouldn’t really have been possible outside of the tournament. Under normal circumstances, under ordinary circumstances, Emerald wouldn’t have dreamt of coming back here, and she would have told Cinder that it was a fool’s hope to think that she could.

She would have told her regretfully, but firmly nonetheless. If it had been only students here, then she would have been spotted at once, and for that reason would have refused to go.

But it was not only students here today, and Emerald had gotten off the skyliner with the other tourists and walked right down the road and now she stood in the courtyard, with that old black statue of the huntsman and huntress looking down on her as though they were the only two people in the world — or at Beacon right now — who knew who she was.

It was the tourism that allowed that; quite apart from the crowds themselves, which were easy to hide in, the sheer number of people around the school — around certain parts of the school, anyway — meant that the facial recognition on the Atlesian androids, which they used to scan and match faces against the registered Beacon IDs, had been disabled; otherwise, they would have been going off incessantly, with potentially messy consequences. For that reason, the risk of being identified by a robot had been lifted from Emerald’s shoulders.

Which meant that the only risk that she ran was running into someone who recognised her as Emerald Sustrai, Cinder’s accomplice — and that was what the disguise was for.

The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament was a big help — a great help, it was a great help in that regard; she had to keep remembering to choose the right words in her head, or else, she would forget to use the right ones in public. Ladies said great, not big; at least, they did some of the time.

The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament had been a great help to Emerald in disguising herself to sneak back — to waltz back, rather; there was not a lot of sneaking involved in stepping off a skyliner onto the docking pad — onto campus. She could hardly believe that you could buy accessories, or even full costumes, to dress up as these losers.

Wait, that wasn’t phrased in a particularly ladylike manner either, let her try something else … Emerald could scarcely believe that all manner of accessories and outfits pertaining to these … pathetic oafs — these errant nuisances — were available to purchase from all good retailers.

But available they were, as Emerald had quickly found out as she had hunted through Vale looking for the means of disguising herself. You could buy wigs that supposedly would make you look like Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash, even Sunset Shimmer; now who would want to dress like Sunset Shimmer, of all people?

Well … as it turned out, Emerald did. She had stolen an official licensed Sunset Shimmer wig from a costume shop — shoplifting was very straightforward when there were no other customers around; it was just a matter of making the clerk think that you had handed over the lien, then he would ring you up, hand you a receipt, and you could walk out the door and be out of sight before he realised that actually, no, you hadn’t paid him anything; with a bit of luck, you wouldn’t even have to break into a run — a leather jacket and a pair of biker boots from a thrift store, and a pair of jeans and a purple top from a low end department store. It wasn’t a perfect costume — it didn’t have Sunset’s symbol anywhere on it — but it did look like the sort of thing that someone who didn’t have a ton of money to spend might come up with if they wanted to dress up like Sunset Shimmer.

Although why they would was a mystery to Emerald.

Although, to be perfectly honest, Emerald did not hate Sunset. She even … she felt as though she understood the other girl now, better than she had done; it couldn’t be easy being the voice of wisdom to a Mistralian who was over-obsessed with that one bloodthirsty book and had a head full of ludicrous notions in consequence. It couldn’t be easy watching someone you cared about who seemed determined to destroy themselves and who would do it no matter what you said to try and persuade them not to.

No, that wasn’t easy at all, and Sunset had Emerald’s sympathy in that regard.

Perhaps that was why she had chosen to dress up as Sunset, rather than Pyrrha or Blake, because Sunset was the one closest to her own temperament in that regard; at least, Emerald had thought she was. That was certainly the impression that she had gotten in their one real conversation in preparation for Cinder’s duel with Pyrrha.

She hadn’t liked Sunset up until that point — she still didn’t like Sunset very much, and they were still enemies — but at the same time, there had been a connection there between them, two people condemned to watch because they lacked the power to change.

Although it seemed that, since then, Sunset had changed something very, very big, if Cinder was right. She had brought Amber back from the … not back from the dead, but back from the almost dead, which was still pretty … still rather impressive.

Emerald couldn’t imagine how she’d done it.

What else might she be capable of?

Let’s hope I don’t find out.

The other reason, the more important reason, why Emerald was dressed as Sunset rather than anyone else was that it was, all told, a pretty low key outfit. Certainly, it was not as flamboyant as Pyrrha’s corset and armour, as idiosyncratic as Blake’s tailcoat and tights, as attention-grabbing as Yang’s outfit. It was low key, at least to an extent, although that was offset in part by her hair.

Still, bright colours aside, even the wig was helpful because it changed the shape of Emerald’s face to anyone looking at her, and who had only seen her with her hair tied up in twin tails before, the way the wig framed her face would cause it to look a little different.

And just to help, she was wearing green coloured contact lenses. Technically, they were ‘Pyrrha Nikos contact lenses’ intended to make your eyes look that very bright and beguiling emerald shade, as opposed to Sunset’s eyes which had a bit more turquoise in them. But it was a change from Emerald’s own red eyes and decreased the likelihood that she would be recognised.

Not that she intended to take any chances; she would keep well out of sight of anyone who might recognise her.

That was why she was lurking kind of— lurking ever so slightly, rather — as she watched Amber.

Emerald was standing half-hidden behind a holographic advertisement for Pumpkin Pete’s; Pyrrha’s face kept flickering in front of her, occasionally making her lose focus. If Amber had been trying to get away from her, then it might have been enough for Emerald to lose track of her, but as it was, Amber wasn’t going anywhere. She was sitting at a table with Yang Xiao Long, a boy and a girl whom Emerald couldn’t assign names to … and Sweetie Drops, or Bon Bon, whichever you wanted to call her.

Emerald appeared to be looking at her scroll; she had it open in front of her and had her head bowed down as though she were looking at it, but her eyes were truly fixed on Amber, and Bon Bon.

Bon Bon who was supposed to be on their side. And yet who had said nothing of Amber being awake.

Bon Bon was sitting there, with her, and yet, Cinder had had to find out from the TV news.

Emerald was starting to feel herself getting irate about it until she remembered that Bon Bon hadn’t known — didn’t know — about the Fall Maiden. She hadn’t been part of the operation to obtain Amber’s power, and she hadn’t been told about it afterwards either. She didn’t need to know any of that.

Perhaps she needed to know now?

Emerald considered it, but that consideration foundered upon the risks of trying to approach her without being identified by Yang or someone else; plus, there was the fact that Bon Bon had not exactly been a reliable asset for them lately.

Or ever.

No, Emerald would not approach her. She would not take the risk. After all, she was only here to observe Amber — she didn’t even have her weapons with her, not that they would have done her much good — and nothing more. And she did not need Bon Bon’s help for that.

So she would watch, and be discreet, and report to Cinder anything of interest.

"Here we are then," Swift Foot said, settling down into an armchair. "Day two."

"Yes, well, one day does tend to follow another," Terri-Belle muttered as she, too, took a seat in front of the television. "At least today, there are only five matches of interest."

Swift Foot looked at her out of the corners of her eyes. "You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic."

"I am very enthusiastic," Terri-Belle replied. "I'm also very busy."

"With what?" Swift Foot asked. "No huntsmen came to see you yesterday looking for missions."

"All that means is that the missions are piling up on my desk, and there will be a great flood of huntsmen looking to take them soon enough, or at least, I hope there will, or there will be a great many people in danger or disappointed throughout the land of Mistral." She paused for a moment. "And besides that, do you think that my titles as Captain of the Imperial Guard and Warden of the White Tower are merely for show? Do you imagine that I do nothing all day?"

"I know that you have duties," Swift Foot replied, slightly defensively, like a hedgehog curling up for protection against the teeth of Terri-Belle's offence, "but I didn't think that any of them would be occupying you right now; I mean … it is a holiday throughout the whole city."

"And yet, life goes on," Terri-Belle murmured.

A silence descended between the two sisters for a moment, companionable enough but a silence nonetheless.

"How … how are the huntsmen taking it?" asked Swift Foot. "Having you for their employer and no job board?"

"I am not their employer," Terri-Belle corrected her. "I am merely the facilitator of their employment, a sort of talking, breathing job board."

"Very well," Swift Foot conceded. "How are they taking that?"

"With good cheer in some quarters and much grumbling in others," Terri-Belle muttered. "Professor Lionheart came to seem me the day before yesterday, to tell me that several eminent people had come to him with their concerns that I was hoarding power, that I might be unduly influencing huntsmen on what jobs to take, that I might be choosing which missions went to the top of the pile."

Swift Foot blinked. "What did you tell Lionheart?"

"Professor Lionheart," Terri-Belle said gently. "And I told him to go back and tell them that if they really thought I was behaving improperly, they could make those accusations publicly; if not, then let them keep their opinions as well as their names to themselves."

Swift Foot crossed her legs, resting her left foot upon her right knee. "I'm not sure I believed that really happened."

Terri-Belle frowned. "You think that I am making it up to … what? Aggrandise myself by appearing defiant?"

"No, I believe that Lionheart—"

"Professor Lionheart."

"He's not my teacher."

"Yet," Terri-Belle said.

"Then when I am at Haven, I will call him Professor," Swift Foot said. "Until then … I believe that he came and talked to you; I'm not sure I believe that anyone talked to him. Certainly not eminent people. Why would they? He's a faunus—"

"Let's not have any of that sort of talk," Terri-Belle said reproachfully.

"You know what I mean," Swift Foot insisted. "In this city … you've told me yourself how people look down on him, because he's a faunus, because he's useless—"

"Professor Lionheart is not useless," Terri-Belle declared. "He cares for his students and their wellbeing, he is a first rate counsellor — and a good counsellor besides. He gave me much good advice when I was a student there. That Haven has been unlucky under his leadership is his bad luck also. Besides, why would he lie to me about it?"

"I … I don't know," Swift Foot admitted. "Maybe he doesn't like what you've decided but wanted to attribute it to other people instead of himself. Has anyone had the nerve to come to you with their own problems?"

"Some," Terri-Belle said, "mostly huntsmen who find coming up to see me to be an unwanted imposition compared to a job board. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I would be more sorry to lose more huntsmen because someone is passing out mission information to a huntsman killer." She shook her head. "In any case, no problems that are not surmountable, thank goodness, or I would certainly not be sitting here. But I am here, and I hope that Haven will do well today."

"Haven or Mistral?" asked Swift Foot.

"Both," Terri-Belle said. "Pyrrha Nikos, yes, but of the Haven students? Arslan Altan; Councillor Ward's son, Cicero the Younger; two children of Titus Andronicus; a Vasilias of Argus; if we cannot make some victories out of such a company, we deserve to close down Haven and withdraw from contention out of shame."

"We could have said the same yesterday, about the likes of Jason and Meleager," Swift Foot pointed out.

"True," Terri-Belle admitted, "but the fact remains that there are some good raw materials remaining to us; hopefully, they can make victories out of it." She paused. "Did you watch these Atlas students yesterday?"

Swift Foot nodded. "It was while you were gone."

"What are they like?"

"I thought they were a lot of fun," Swift Foot said. "Their leader, Trixie, is vain and showy, but in a good way." She chuckled. "The Great and Powerful Trixie!"

Terri-Belle gazed at her younger sister with slightly narrow eyes.

"What?" Swift Foot asked. "That's what she calls herself."

"Really?" Terri-Belle muttered. "Standards must be going down in Atlas. Robyn Hill never engaged in any such nonsense."

"She's playing for the crowd," Swift Foot replied. "Or at least I think she is. And besides being entertaining, she and her team were very good yesterday. And yes, they were only up against a Shade team, but—"

"Honestly, I don't think we have any right to look down on Shade Academy, considering our record," Terri-Belle said.

"No," Swift Foot admitted. "Which isn't—"

"Bad luck," Terri-Belle insisted. "Not an indictment."

"If you say so," Swift Foot said. "But, in any case, whoever their opponents were, Team Tsunami did well yesterday. I honestly think you'll be glad you watched this."

"I wish Pyrrha was fighting someone else," Diana grumbled gently from where she and her sister lay on the floor like two cats staring up at the television in front of them.

Selene looked at her. "Why?"

"Because Trixie was funny," Diana explained. Selene had gone for a nap and so missed that fight, but Diana had stuck around for it and been rewarded. "I don't want her to get knocked out."

Selene pouted. "Traitor!"

"I still want Pyrrha to win!" Diana squawked. "And she will. I just wish she was beating someone else, that's all. I don't want my favourites to fight each other."

"What about Arslan?" Selene asked.

"I can have three favourites," Diana said. "Like … my favourite fruits are apples, grapes, and satsumas."

"They're not real favourites; there are too many of them."

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not, there's only three!"

"Well, I'm still rooting for Pyrrha," Selene said primly. "Because I know that she's way better than your boring old Trixie. Go Pyrrha! Go Pyrrha! GO PYRRHA!"

"Settle down in there!" Mom called from the kitchen.

Leaf held the Snowburger bag in her mouth as she fished her scroll out of the pocket of her green coat and used it to open the door of her apartment.

The door slid open, revealing Veil sprawled out sideways on the sofa, holding her scroll up in front of her face with one hand.

She scrambled upright as she heard the door slide open, looking at Leaf. "Did you get everything?"

Leaf made a wordless noise out of her mouth and shook her head a little to emphasise the rustling brown paper bag in her mouth. She stepped in the doorway and heard the door slide shut behind her.

She put her keys into her pocket so that she could take the bag out of her mouth. "Yes," she said, "I got everything." She put the coffees down first, two big cups in a cardboard cupholder. "One black, one white with extra sugar." Then she put the paper bag down. "One sausage and egg snowmuffin, one bacon and egg snowmuffin, two hash browns, and a bag of mini pancakes."

"You are amazing," Veil said, opening the bag up — it rustled some more — and lifting out the bag of mini pancakes, which didn't look much like pancakes at all as far as Leaf could see — more like nugget-shaped globs of batter — as well as the plastic tub of maple syrup.

"You know, I really don't like giving that place my money," Leaf complained as she shrugged off her coat and threw it onto the back of the sofa. "On account of, you know, the fact that they kidnapped me and made me a slave."

"That was the SDC, not Snowburger," Veil countered, without looking up.

Leaf flopped down onto the settee. "Snowburger is part of the SDC. Or at least, it's owned by the Schnees."

"Yeah, but they're like … a subsidiary or whatever," Veil replied. "It's all different managers, different people; I mean, it's not like they had you enslaved flipping burgers in a fast food place."

Leaf exhaled audibly out of her mouth. "I don't like giving that family my money."

"Hard not to in this city," Veil said. "Who do you think we're paying to watch TV?"

"SDC owns the cable company?" Leaf demanded, her eyes boggling.

"No, SDC owns the power company; it's why we have electricity," Veil corrected. She paused. "Although they might own the cable company as well; I'm not sure. But, anyway, you're the one who didn't want to go to Patty's."

"The nearest Patty's is a whole floor up," Leaf moaned, "and—"

"You can't walk that far because you smoke too much," Veil finished for her.

Leaf glared at her. "No, I was going to say that it would all be cold by the time I got it back here. Besides, so much of the stuff from Patty's has a weird taste, I don't like it. I'd go to Burger Bar, but that's even further away."

"We do live in a bit of a fast food desert," Veil admitted. "I think it's because when you live in an apartment as nice as this, you're expected to be the kind of people who do at least some of their own cooking."

Leaf blinked. "So, you're saying that if we had a crappier apartment, we'd have more dinner choices?"

"I'm saying one of us should probably learn to cook," said Veil.

"Not it!" Leaf called at once. "I don't need to eat much anyway." But she got out her snowmuffin regardless, because she needed to eat something, and the morning was when she was generally hungriest, because she hadn't had a single cigarette yet. "So, what were you looking at when I came in?"

"Oh, nothing, just looking at the news," Veil said. "You could tell it was a quiet day because a lot of it was about yesterday's tournament, all the stuff we already watched. They were trying to talk up Trixie and Starlight too."

"Yeah, they might be good, but Sunset's better," Leaf declared. "Sunset and that Pyrrha girl, they've got this."

"I hope you're wrong about that," Veil said. "I know that you're friends with her and all, but Atlas didn't do as well as everyone thought yesterday — that was in the news as well—"

"They got four wins, out of eight matches," Leaf said. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Not for Atlas," Veil said. "Not for some people around here, anyway. I'd like to see us get some more wins in today, even if it does mean your friend has to get in the bin."

Leaf huffed. "Well, if I'd known that," she said, "I wouldn't have brought you breakfast."

Saphron popped the bananas into the blender and pushed the button. The blender stirred to life at once, whirring loudly as the individual bananas disappeared into a yellow blur, splattering in parts upon the plastic jug, spinning round and round in an ever less coherent-looking, ever less recognisable paste.

Adrian, sitting in his high chair, covered his ears with both hands. He liked what came out of the blender but wasn’t so thrilled about the sound that it made to get there.

Saphron wasn’t in love with it either — it would have been great if they could have come up with a quiet version — but it was something that she had learned to put up with over time.

And besides, it never lasted too long; why, even as she thought that, the blender came to a stop, the whirring, screeching sound dying.

Saphron turned the device off before she lifted the plastic jug off the white stand with the motor in it and lifted up the lid to reveal the yellow mush that was, colour aside, completely unrecognisable as banana.

And yet, despite not being recognisable, the puree still looked pretty good.

“You know, instead of freezing it, I might have some of this myself with a yoghurt or something,” she declared.

Terra walked in from the living room. Her glasses had begun to slip down her nose; she pushed them back up again.

“You want to have the same breakfast … as our baby?” she asked.

“No,” Saphron said as she started to spoon the banana puree out of the jug and into a bowl for Adrian; there were cartoon snowmen in hats and scarves having a party on the bottom of the bowl, but they swiftly began to disappear beneath the yellow puree that Saphron doled out onto their smiling faces. “Adrian is going to eat this on its own. I’m going to have it as an accompaniment to something else.” She looked at Adrian over her shoulder. “You don’t mind sharing with Mommy, do you?”

Adrian nodded his head.

“He doesn’t know what he means,” Saphron said.

Adrian opened his mouth and pointed into it.

“He certainly knows what he wants,” Terra replied, a touch of amusement entering her voice. “I think that you should put what’s left of the banana in the fridge — where we have those strawberries going soft if you want to puree something for us to go with a yoghurt.”

“I suppose they do need eating before they go off,” Saphron conceded as she reached into a cupboard for a plastic tub to hold the rest of the banana puree. “Once I’ve got the puree out, can you wash this while I feed Adrian? Or you can feed Adrian, either way. The point is, if we work together, then we can get everything done and our own breakfast ready without missing any of the next match.” To Adrian, she added, “We don’t want to miss any of Auntie Pyrrha’s next match, do we? Do we?”

Adrian shook his head vigorously.

“I remember when you were certain that the black haired girl was his girlfriend,” Terra said.

“And I remember when you recognised that the red-haired girl was a famous Mistralian celebrity and didn’t say anything,” Saphron remarked pointedly as she finished spooning the last of the puree between Adrian’s bowl and the plastic tub.

Terra chuckled softly. “If I had told you, would you have expected Jaune to chase after a celebrity who was out of his league?”

Saphron hesitated for a moment. “Would it make me a horrible big sister if I said ‘yes’?”

“Perhaps a little bit of one, yeah,” Terra said. “I’ll wash up and get started on the strawberries. You feed Adrian.”

“Will do,” Saphron said, planting a kiss on Terra’s cheek as her wife walked around the unit, and around Adrian’s high chair, to stand beside Saphron, facing the sink. She grabbed Adrian’s bowl and a little blue plastic spoon and walked towards Adrian with a big smile on her face. “Here comes the airship, Adrian!” she said, spooning some of the puree onto the spoon. “Open wide?”

Adrian gurgled in happy anticipation as he opened his mouth very wide indeed.

“Wheeeeeee!” Saphron said as she steered the spoon by a slightly winding course into his mouth. Adrian’s mouth closed around the spoon, and there was scarcely a trace of banana puree left of it when Saphron pulled it out from between his lips.

“There you go!” Saphron cried, spooning out some more puree. Behind her, she could hear the sound of running water gushing from the tap.

“My dad sent me a text,” Terra said. “He told me that he knows that Pyrrha is your brother’s girlfriend, but he’s never met any of your family—”

“We should probably do something about that,” Saphron murmured. It was unfortunate, but she’d chosen to get married to Terra before introducing her to her family, for fear that … well, for fear that they would treat Terra the way that they had treated Pyrrha, to be perfectly honest, and try to break the two of them up. Also because she’d been a little afraid that if she brought Terra home without a wedding ring on her finger, then she might lose her nerve at the last minute and ask Terra to pretend they were just roommates or something. Anyway, the point was that although Terra’s parents had been at their wedding, her family had not, and the two halves of the Cotta-Arcs had never met at any subsequent point, either.

“The ball is in your court on that one,” Terra replied calmly, her voice raised only to be heard over the sound of the running water. “Anyway, the point is, as much as Pyrrha is dating your brother, he’s still rooting for the Atlesians.”

“He had to tell you that?” Saphron asked, putting the spoon back into Adrian’s mouth, which gleefully closed around it.

“He had to tell somebody,” Terra said. “And he couldn’t tell Mom.”

“Of course not,” Saphron said, smiling. Terra’s father was an Atlesian, a CCT technician — now retired — who had come to Argus to work on the tower; her mother, on the other hand, was a Mistralian, Argus born and bred, and proud of it. “I take it that’s why he texted you instead of calling.”

“Mm-hmm,” Terra agreed. “He’s setting himself up for so much disappointment, of course.”

“You’re not worried, then?” Saphron asked.

“Are you?”

“Those Atlesian kids were pretty good yesterday.”

“Arslan Altan is pretty good, at the least,” Terra said. “Cicero Ward is pretty good. Jason, Meleager, Oceana the Mermaid Knight, Vespa the Wasp, they’re all pretty good, and do you know what they all have in common? Getting their butts kicked by Pyrrha Nikos. And it will be the same way here too, take my word for it.”

“Because a princess of the old blood will conquer her enemies?” Saphron asked. “You are your mom’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“It’s a family tradition,” Terra acknowledged. “But it’s also just a fact. I love my dad, but there’s no way he’s going to get what he wants out of this fight.”

“Here you go, love,” Mrs. Macready said, setting a bowl of porridge down on the breakfast table in front of Plum Pole. “Best eat up before Miss Shimmer’s match with Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer starts.”

“Thank you,” Plum said, smiling. Mrs. Macready had already laced the porridge with lashings of honey, which she — picking up a spoon with a wooden handle — began to stir in. She looked up the table to where Doctor Diggory sat, eating from his own bowl of porridge. “Doctor?”

Doctor Diggory glanced up, “Yes, Miss Pole?”

“The Vytal festival, the tournament,” Plum said, “it’s to celebrate peace, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Doctor Diggory said. “It is now eighty years since the Great War — and no, I am not quite so old that I remember it,” he added, chuckling a little, “— and every two years, a great celebration in one of the four kingdoms to rejoice at the fact that peace between the kingdoms has prevailed ever since.”

“But they celebrate it by making people fight one another,” Plum said, “even friends like Sunset and Trixie and Starlight. It doesn’t seem very peaceful.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head, dearie,” Mrs. Macready declared. “I’ve never understood it myself.”

“It is…” Doctor Diggory paused for a moment. “It is because peace is maintained not only through goodwill and mutual understanding — although that is a part of it, and that is celebrated too as part of the broader festival; that’s why Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer, although they are from Atlas, were here in Vale to help defend us when we needed it, and Miss Doo, as well, a Haven student — but because of the bravery of young huntsmen and huntresses like Miss Shimmer, Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer. The tournament is a celebration of them, a chance for those who didn’t require to have their village saved by them to know who they are, and to see and to appreciate their skill.”

“I … see,” Plum replied. “But still, I think it must be quite hard fighting against your friend.”

“In a real fight, I’m sure that it would be,” Doctor Diggory replied. “Thankfully, I’ve never had the experience myself. But this is a tournament, it is only … play fighting, you might say. Nobody gets hurt, and nothing is won or lost. Nothing is at stake but pride and bragging rights. They may be friends, and they have fought together in the face of real danger, but today… today I imagine will be quite a fun diversion for all of them.

“Or at least, we must certainly hope it will; it would be a terrible shame for them to fall out over something so trivial, having been through something so momentous together.”

“You bet against Pyrrha?” Juturna said.

“Yes, I did,” Lausus replied.

“You bet against Pyrrha?”

“I think I just said that.”

“You bet against Pyrrha?”

“Are you having trouble hearing what I’m saying?” asked Lausus, tilting his head a little to one side. “Are you going deaf?”

“You bet against Pyrrha?!” Juturna yelled.

Lausus recoiled. “Okay, just because your hearing is going is no need to act as though mine is.”

“My hearing is fine,” Juturna said, “I just can’t believe it. You bet against Pyrrha?”

Camilla stepped out into the corridor in which Juturna and Lausus stood. “What’s going on?”

“Lausus bet against Pyrrha,” Juturna said.

Camilla’s eyebrows rose. “You bet against Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Why does everyone keep repeating that?” asked Lausus.

“Because it’s stupid,” Juturna declared. “Listen, I don’t like Pyrrha very much—”

“Juturna,” Camilla murmured reproachfully.

“What?” Juturna demanded, turning around to face her. “I’m not going to pretend that I like her when I don’t. If she were to get taken down a peg or two, that would be fine by me.” If she were to die, that would be fine by me as well, but you know. “But I’m not going to bet against her. I’ve put money on her to win this whole thing.”

She regretted saying that as soon as the words had passed her lips. Camilla frowned and folded her arms.

“With what money?” she asked.

Juturna licked her lips. “With my … credit card, that my brother gave to me and which I can…” — she shuffled in place — “spend however I like.”

“Within reason,” Camilla reminded her. “You know that my lord would not approve of gambling.”

“He might not disapprove,” Juturna suggested. “Especially if he never finds out about it.”

“Juturna—”

“Don’t say it like that; you weren’t supposed to find out either,” Juturna insisted.

“Why would you, though?” asked Lausus.

“Oh, you’re asking me that as though you haven’t bet against her?” Juturna said, rounding on him.

“Yeah, I bet on the Atlas pair because you can get twenty-eight-to-one odds on it,” Lausus replied. “If this comes in, I’ll be rich! I’ll be able to buy back our house from that damned upstart caravaneer who’s been squatting in it. I can get my father his pride back, I can … put my mother’s bones back in the family crypt where they belong.”

Camilla’s arms fell down by her sides as she walked forwards. “Lausus … how much did you bet on this improbable victory.”

“Only my lien,” Lausus said at once. “Not my father’s.”

“That is not what I asked,” Camilla pointed out softly.

Lausus chewed on his lip a little. “Most of what I had saved away.”

“Lausus,” Camilla sighed.

Juturna reached up, putting her hand on his arm, just below the silver honour band. One finger just brushed against the cold metal. “You know … you know that it…” She hesitated. “It’s not likely to happen. In fact, it probably won’t. You know that, right?”

Lausus was silent for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh, raggedly, his body bending as far as his cuirass would allow. “I am proud to be a Rutulian warrior, and to serve Turnus, and to fight alongside you, Camilla. The friendship that this family has offered to mine, even after our disgrace, is a gift that I cannot repay. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t shame me, to be reduced to the status of a retainer, to see the even greater shame stooping my father’s shoulders, to be cast out of our house, out of society, to have our name turned to mud. If there is a chance to change that, to regain all that we lost, shouldn’t I take it? Am I not obligated to take it?”

“And when the bet fails, you will have even less than you did before,” Camilla murmured. She walked towards them both. “I … do not begrudge you your desires, but … I fear this was not wise.”

“Probably not,” Lausus admitted. “But then I’ve never been a particularly wise fellow. And, frankly, as much as I wouldn’t dream of taking any other work than this, I’ll never make enough to restore my family’s status on the salary and bonuses that my lord pays me.”

“What’s this?” Turnus asked, as he walked up the corridor, approaching the group from behind Lausus. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Juturna said. “Nothing at all, we were just—”

“Lausus has made a rather foolish wager,” Camilla said softly.

Turnus stopped mid-stride. “Is that so?” he said softly.

Lausus clasped his hands together behind him. “Yes, my lord. I’ve bet … fifty thousand lien on Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer to win this match that is about to start.”

Turnus was silent. He stared at Lausus, his eyes unblinking, unmoving. “'Fifty thousand lien,'” he repeated quietly. “That … what was that as a proportion of what you had available?”

“Most of it,” Lausus admitted. “There’s some in stocks and the like, but they haven’t been doing very well recently, either.”

“I’ve told you, you should use my broker instead of investing in every ‘next big thing’ that turns out to be anything but,” Turnus muttered. He paused for a moment. “It is all your own money, you didn’t borrow from anyone else?”

“No, my lord,” Lausus said. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not so much a fool.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Turnus said. “Assuming that you don’t suddenly come into a fortune very shortly, I’ll give you twenty-five thousand lien by the end of the day. That should enable you to conceal the fact that you’re broke from your father and anyone else. You can pay me back, little by little, over the next few years.”

Lausus gasped. “My lord—”

“We wouldn’t want you to have to gnaw on the crust of humility now, would we?” Turnus asked. “Where would we be without your peacock’s feathers brightening up the place.”

Lausus let out a little laugh. “You’re a real pal, my lord … Turnus.”

Turnus allowed the use of his name, this time anyway. “I hope so,” he replied. “I try to be.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, if that was the only thing that you were discussing—”

“It was, my lord,” Camilla said, for which Juturna was very grateful; she wasn’t sure if Turnus would have been as nice to her about this as he’d just been to Lausus.

“Then we should probably head in,” Turnus said, “and witness Lausus lose his bet.”

Lausus sighed. “Very probably, my lord.”

"So, Dad," River said, as she sat down on the couch, "is there anything else different between today's matches and yesterdays, or is it just that there are only two fighters instead of four, so we've seen the last of Jaune already?"

"There are four terrain types today," replied Gold Arc, sitting down on the sofa next to her. "Not just two like there were yesterday."

Kendal was sitting on the arm of the couch already, so she was able to look over River's head down at their father. "So … the number of fighters goes down, but the number of different environments goes up?"

"That's the way it is," Gold said.

"But with only two-on-two," Kendal said, "do they all get used?"

"No," Gold said, "but I guess that's not the point; the point is that all the huntsmen who are on the field get more choice, more chance to play to their strengths — or to their opponents' weaknesses. At least, that's my best guess as to why things are the way they are."

"They could have done that and still kept four huntsmen on each team," Sky grumbled, from where she sat at the foot of the settee. She had to turn her head and crane it to look up at everyone.

"It's like Ozpin said—" Gold began.

"Yeah, Dad, I know what the old headmaster said," Sky replied before he could finish. "But that doesn't change the fact that I would have liked to have seen more of Jaune. Wouldn't we all like to have seen more of Jaune?"

"Not according to the messages on this livechat," Aoko murmured. She was crouched beneath Kendal, at the side of the sofa, and just like yesterday, she had her laptop open on her lap.

"I meant all of us Aoko; nobody cares what the random people on your computer think," Sky declared. "And can't you put that away and watch on the new TV with the rest of us?"

"This way, I can watch and work," Aoko said. "Miss Rockshaw has assigned me to join a new tiger team brainstorming ideas for innovative gear of use for a small huntress."

Kendal frowned. "Why a small huntress? Why not a big huntress, like Pyrrha or Jaune?"

"I don't know," Aoko said. "Maybe the big ones don't need the help."

Kendal rolled her eyes.

"I understand what you mean, Sky," Rouge said, sweeping out of the kitchen, the doors flapping shut behind her. She had a tray of steaming hot pastries in her arms, and she didn't miss a beat in stepping over Sky's leg. "It would have been nice to get some more of Jaune, considering how much he's improved."

"You know, I'm not sure that 'improved' is the right word," Kendal said.

Sky looked up at her. "Why not? He was awful, now he's better. He's improved."

"Except that he wasn't awful, was he?" Kendal replied. "Jaune was … I don't think you can say that he was bad when he hadn't been shown or taught to do anything and didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. It would be like saying that I'm bad at … bookbinding, or illustrating comics. I'm not bad at either of them, I don't do them—"

"But if you did try and do them, you would probably be bad at them," Rouge said, "just like… well, just like Jaune was bad when he tried to become a huntsman, by his own account. And then, thanks to Pyrrha, he got better. He improved, like Sky said."

"I suppose," Kendal conceded. "But most people are going to be bad at something when they try it for the first time, and the reason why he'd never tried it before is because of us! If we had—"

"If Jaune had known what he was doing when he went to Beacon, then maybe he wouldn't have met Pyrrha," River pointed out. "These things have a way of working out for the best."

Kendal snorted. "Sometimes they do, Mrs. Happily Married with a Kid on the Way. Other times … oh, it doesn't matter. Let's just watch Pyrrha's match. And pass me one of those pains au chocolat; they smell really good."

"So, here we are," Vice Principal Luna declared. "Canterlot's prodigal daughter versus…" She paused for a moment. "How does one describe Trixie?"

"Not the favourite daughter, nor the brightest star," murmured Principal Celestia, "and yet, nevertheless, a bright star in the sky. Call her … Canterlot's Surprise, for Trixie does have a way of surprising people. Even me, upon occasion."

Luna chuckled. "If she wins this match, she will shock most of Remnant, I think."

"Having taught both Sunset and Trixie," Celestia said, "I, of course, do not have a favourite. That would be very inappropriate."

"Oh, of course, sister," Luna said, a smile playing upon her features.

"I don't," Celestia insisted.

"And I agreed with you."

"With your words, you agreed," Celestia declared. "Not with your tone or that smirking expression on your face."

"This is my resting face," Luna protested.

"Then exercise it," Celestia told her. "I don't like the look of it when it's resting."

"I'm sorry," Luna said. "I didn't mean to bother you."

But the smirk remained upon her face regardless.

Up in Councillor Cadance’s box, Kali Belladonna sighed.

Four of Blake’s friends pitted against one another, who am I supposed to root for?

If I knew who Blake was rooting for, I could root for them. But I don’t.

It is what it is, I suppose, but nevertheless … I wish the tournament had thrown up a different result when selecting the matches.

Lady Nikos winced a little at the pain in her leg as she sat down in her private box for the second day of the games.

The arena beneath her was full up, the common stands heaving with people, their noise buzzing upwards to reach her.

It would have been like being in the Colosseum in Mistral, but the games in Mistral were not quite so … commercialised.

Not that there was not, unfortunately, a commercial element, but in Mistral, it was at least not common for people of all ages to dress up as their favourite warriors to watch the tournament. That sort of behaviour was reserved for FanFight Expo and other such events which it was Pyrrha’s duty to attend for the sake of her public image, but in the arena itself, a more rarefied atmosphere prevailed.

It was to be regretted that such was not the case here. Although it was to be rejoiced at that Lady Nikos was set so high up above the stands that she could scarcely see the offending outfits.

Nevertheless, she was aware that they were there, and it was somewhat irritating. This was a festival, and games held at a festival were — or ought to be — sacred. This was not only the grandest tournament in Remnant, but a tournament in celebration of peace, or — as they would have put it in Mistral of old — a celebration in honour of the goddess Concord. There ought to be — deserved to be — a degree of solemnity as part of that.

But then, even in Mistral, there was less solemnity around the tournaments than there had been once — it was a strange thing, but in some respects, the games that most preserved the sacred character of the arena were the impromptu tournaments held in celebration of someone’s wedding, by virtue of their link to the solemn nuptials — what chance that there would be any solemnity at all in Vale, a kingdom that could scarcely be called solemn in any way?

And yet, here she was, despite all her complaints.

Despite all her complaints, she would not have missed this for the world. Not for the restoration of her ancestral throne would she have stayed away.

Lady Nikos gripped the handle of her walking stick tightly.

Come, Pyrrha, she thought. Show the world what Mistral’s glory was in the days of old.

Show them what it means to be our Evenstar.

“Does it bother you that Blake isn’t here?” Penny asked.

Ruby looked at her. There was an empty seat next to Ruby in the competitors’ stands where she and Penny sat — Ruby had reserved it for Jaune, who would be joining them shortly — but all the other seats around them were taken up with Mistralians: Arslan, Bolin Hori whom Sunset had defeated, the members of Team JAMM who had been beaten by Team RSPT yesterday, the team whom Ruby thought were the ones that Rainbow and Ciel would be fighting later on, and the ones that Yang and Nora were going to be facing later on as well. It wasn’t quite fair to say that every Haven student competing in the tournament was crowded in here with them — there was no sign of Sun or Neptune, although she could see Sage and Scarlet a little way away — but it was certainly most of them.

And judging by the way in which the ordinary seats behind them were taken up with Haven students in black uniforms — so that you could tell immediately that they were Haven students and thus from Mistral — it certainly seemed as though they’d made an effort to present a united front.

Ruby wondered if possibly Lycus’ accusation at breakfast had had anything to do with that; Team JAMM had led the way in getting behind Pyrrha then; maybe they’d decided to show their support tangibly.

Although given that Ruby hadn’t seen the death reported anywhere, she wasn’t sure how many people would really get it.

Still, it did feel different than it had done yesterday, when they’d been watching with all their friends.

It felt a little weird, sitting here surrounded by all these Haven students, like an island of Beacon-ness, an island of Valishness, an island like Patch in the middle of a sea of strangers.

But did it bother her? And did it bother her specifically that Blake wasn’t here?

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I don’t think it bothers me; why should it?”

“Because she’s supporting Trixie and Starlight,” Penny explained. “Not Sunset and Pyrrha.”

“More fool her,” Arslan muttered.

Ruby ignored her and focussed upon Penny. “I mean, it’s her choice. It’s not like she killed someone.”

Penny blinked. “You … don’t care at all?”

“No,” Ruby said. She smiled. “Just like no one cares that you’re supporting Pyrrha and Sunset — except for Pyrrha and Sunset; I’m sure that they appreciate it a lot.”

“Your norderlust friend can support who she wants—” Arslan began.

“Our what?” Ruby asked.

“'Norderlust,'” Arslan repeated. “It’s a word we have in Mistral for people who are entranced by Atlas. They think it’s so cool and modern, so they end up dressing Atlesian, going to live in Atlas to find out how cool and modern people live. And sometimes, they end up going to Atlas Academy, because it’s—”

“'Cool and modern'?” Ruby guessed.

“You’re catching on quick,” Arslan told her. “And we call it 'norderlust.' Where we don’t just call it something much ruder. I mean, at least your friend doesn’t have more money than sense, so she’s got that going for her, but other than that—”

“Blake doesn’t think Atlas is cool or modern,” Ruby pointed out. “She thinks they’re righteous.”

“That might be even worse,” Arslan muttered. “Anyway, my point is, she’s in for some disappointment.” She grinned. “All of Atlas is in for some disappointment.”

“Thanks for joining me up here,” Maud said, in that reserved, soft-spoken tone that she had. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Sunburst said enthusiastically as he sat down beside her. “We wouldn’t dream of leaving you out, right, guys?”

“No, of course not,” Rainbow declared, as she took the seat next to Maud on the other side. “What, did you think that we were going to sit down in the competitors’ section and leave you sitting up here all by yourself?”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Sunburst agreed. “Not to an honorary member of Team Tsunami.”

Rainbow made a kind of choking sound that made Blake wonder for a moment if she was alright. “An honourary— what are you talking about? Maud was on my team for a whole year; she doesn’t need to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami.”

“But I don’t mind,” Maud said, without sounding particularly pleased about it.

“Well … if you don’t mind, then I guess it’s okay,” Rainbow muttered, squirming in her seat and causing some popcorn to spill out of her bucket.

Blake smiled ever so briefly out of one corner of her mouth, so briefly that there was no chance at all of Rainbow catching sight of it.

“No need to be jealous, Rainbow, darling,” Rarity said. “There is plenty of room in Maud’s heart for you and Trixie, I’m sure.”

“I’m like a dolomite,” Maud declared.

A moment of silence followed.

“Uh,” Applejack said, “Maud, for the benefit of those of us who ain’t geologists—”

“Dolomite is a very porous kind of rock,” Twilight said. “So … Maud can absorb a lot of love?”

Maud nodded. “And like a rock, I have … difficulty in release.”

“Don’t say that, Maud!” Pinkie cried. “You know you shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Pinkie’s right; there’s no need to put yourself down,” Rainbow said.

Especially when the rest of the world will be so quick to do it for you, Blake thought.

“If you want to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami—” Sunburst began.

Rainbow made a quiet wordless growling noise. Nobody took any notice.

“You have to believe in yourself,” Sunburst went on. “Like Trixie! She always believes in herself, and it helps all of us to believe in ourselves too.”

As Starlight and Trixie waited in the tunnel below, they could both hear the sounds from the crowd above them, from all the people waiting in the stands, filling the floating Amity Coliseum. The ones who were cheering already, the ones who were singing, the ones who were just chattering away while they waited for the fight to start — for the first fight to start.

All of that noise was just blurring together, forming a buzzing sound that was making the corridor tunnel vibrate around them; as she leaned against the metallic wall, Starlight could hear it humming a little behind her.

So much noise, echoing down to them where they stood in the shadows, waiting.

So why was Trixie standing there with her head down, her magician’s hat casting a shadow over her face so that Starlight could barely see it?

“Trixie?” Starlight asked. “What’s up? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I already know that’s a lie.”

Trixie raised her head just a bit, although not too much; the brim of her hat was still casting a shadow over it, but at least Starlight could see her blue eyes now, if only a little.

“A lot of cheering out there,” Trixie said quietly.

Starlight grinned. “Yeah, that’s what surprises me, honestly. I thought it would have had you stoked.”

“Yeah, well,” Trixie murmured.

Starlight peeled herself off the wall and crossed the tunnel, standing much closer to Trixie now. “Well … what? You know, you were a lot more peppy yesterday.”

Trixie glanced towards the end of the tunnel, outside into the light, where the field of battle was waiting for them. “How many of those people out there do you think are here for us?”

Starlight blinked. “Is that what this is about? I don’t know, I haven’t polled, but I think we’ve got a fuller house than we did yesterday, and I’d say that we made a good impression on the crowds with our four on four fight.”

“But still,” Trixie said, “everyone … come on, Starlight, everyone thinks that we’re gonna get our asses kicked out there. Even Rainbow Dash and Blake and the others, they all think it too; they’re just humouring us by pretending that we have a chance—”

“I think we have a chance,” Starlight said.

“Now you’re humouring us,” Trixie muttered.

“Hey,” Starlight murmured reproachfully, as she raised a hand to Trixie’s cheek and chin, cupping Trixie’s pale cheek with her dark hand, at the same time as she tilted Trixie’s chin upwards, forcing the other girl to look at her. “That’s not fair. Just because the odds are against us, just because a lot of other people think they know what’s going to happen out there before it happens, just because of who we’re up against, that doesn’t mean that we don’t believe in us. I believe. I believe with all my heart, and with all my heart, I know that our friends believe in us as well, no matter what you think. And I believe all of that because…

“You know, all of this, the crowds, the cheering, being on TV, this ought to terrify me. I never wanted to be in the spotlight, I always hated being under pressure, but when I’m with you, it’s like none of that matters. I can go out there and do my best, and I don’t feel the eyes on me or the weight of expectations, but at the same time, I feel like we can’t fail because we’re Team Tsunami, the team led by the Great and Powerful Trixie, the leader who never gives up and who always believes in herself! And because you believe so strongly, so passionately, all the time, I can believe too: in you, in me, in us. I believe,” she grinned, “so it would be great if you could believe too, or else, I’ll feel really stupid.”

Trixie looked up at Starlight — not that she had much choice — and as she looked up, a smile spread across her face.

“I do believe,” she declared. “I believe that we can do this.” She put her hand on top of Starlight’s. “Sorry, I guess I just let it get to me for a second there.”

“Not a problem,” Starlight assured her. “Pyrrha may be a champion, but we’re not rookies ourselves. And we have magic on our side.” She winked.

“You got that right!” Trixie cried. “Now let’s get out there and kick some ass!”

Starlight chuckled. “That’s my Trixie.”

“So, how are you two feeling about this?” Jaune asked.

He was standing in the tunnel with the two of them; soon, he would go and leave Sunset and Pyrrha alone to face this next challenge before the crowds, but for now, he was here with them, embraced in shadow so that no shine reached his armour from the light coming in from outside.

“I must confess I feel … confident,” Pyrrha said. “Moreso than yesterday, though I know that I probably should not.”

“You felt nervous yesterday?” Sunset asked. “You didn’t let on.”

“Not … nervous, exactly,” Pyrrha murmured. “But rather … the fact that it was the beginning of the end, or at least the beginning of an end, weighed upon me. But now, the end has begun, and we are in the middle of an ending, and as a result … it weighs upon me not at all, strange as that may seem.”

Sunset snorted. “It makes sense,” she said. “Sort of, anyway. As for me … they’re good, no doubt about that, but I don’t have to beat Trixie; I just need to keep her busy long enough for you to deal with Starlight, and then you can deal with Trixie.” She smiled. “I wish I knew what semblance Starlight would be using, though.”

“Whatever semblance she has borrowed, I will adapt and deal with it,” Pyrrha declared. “The semblances of one’s opponents, like their choices in weapons, are simply things that one learns to work around.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jaune said. “I mean that’s great to hear, I mean it’s good that you’re not—”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said gently, a touch of laughter in her voice, “you sound more nervous than we do.”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Well, I mean, not about the fight, but … you see…”

“Take your time,” Sunset said, a smile playing across her face. “After all, Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck haven’t even announced the second day of the tournament yet.”

Jaune sighed, a wordless murmur dropping from his lips. “You see…” he said again, scratching the back of his head with one hand. “This is actually all Amber’s fault, when she asked about me wearing this sash, the same as you, it … I guess it got me thinking that maybe, I don’t know, maybe you could … maybe I could … it took me a while to think of something but…” He took a deep breath as he reached into his pocket. “Pyrrha, I know that your outfit is, like, really well put together already, but all the same, I thought that, maybe you could wear this.”

Out from this pocket, he produced a strip of golden silk, too neatly severed to have been torn off anything; rather, it looked as though it had been cut with scissors, perhaps from a bolt of fabric.

Pyrrha smiled, and chuckled while she smiled, covering her mouth with one hand. “Is that what you are so nervous about? Oh, Jaune, that looks lovely, and I’d be delighted to.”

Jaune’s cheeks flushed a little. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like—”

“It would sound like that no matter how it was put,” Sunset interjected.

Pyrrha held out her right arm, that bore neither honour band nor vambrace upon it. “Would you mind tying it around my arm for me?”

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said. “Above the elbow or below?”

“Above, please,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Right,” Jaune said, and he wrapped the silk around her arm above elbow and glove, so that Pyrrha could feel the softness of the fabric upon her skin.

As he tied it, and Pyrrha felt the slight tightening of the fabric around her arm, felt the knot pressing gently upon her skin, Pyrrha asked, “Where did the silk come from?”

“Oh, um,” Jaune hesitated. “Well, you see, it took me a while to think of something because I don’t really wear a lot of yellow or gold, even though it’s kind of in my name, and my hair isn’t long enough for me to cut off some you could wear, so—”

“Why do I get the impression that I might not like the answer to this,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I cut off some of the inside lining of my dad’s suit,” Jaune explained. “He gave it to me after the anniversary party, said that it didn’t fit him anymore but it looked good on me. I thought about cutting off some of the outside, but then that would have spoiled the look of it—”

“So you decided to ruin the inside instead?” Pyrrha asked.

“Is it really ruined, though?” Jaune asked her in return. “Nobody is going to see the inside of it, are they? At least people are going to see it now, right? I mean, what do jackets even have insides for, anyway?”

“I am sure that there must be a reason,” Pyrrha said softly. “But … thank you, Jaune, I’m very flattered.” She cupped his face with one hand — her left hand — and leaned forwards to kiss him on the lips, tickling his tongue with hers before she pulled away. “I shall bear it proudly.”

Jaune stared at her for a moment, his eyes into her eyes, his eyes that were so very blue and very beguiling. Then he took a step backwards, looking from Pyrrha to Sunset and back again. “Have fun out there,” he said. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.”

“We know it too,” Sunset agreed. “But thanks anyway.”

A voice as if from the heavens boomed down amongst them, the voice of Professor Port amplified by his microphone.

“WELCOME, one and all, to the second day of the Vytal Festival tournament!”

The cheers of the crowd were redoubled or more in volume; they would have leapt so high as to strike the clouds were it not for the fact that they were already up amongst the clouds by virtue of the Amity Arena.

“I should get up to my seat,” Jaune said.

“Go,” Pyrrha told him. “You will be with me, nonetheless.” Her hand rose to the strip of silk that he had wrapped around her arm.

He beamed brightly and nodded, and then turned away, jogging back down the corridor, towards the outer ring of the arena, and thence up into the stands to watch her — watch them — fight.

Sunset shook her head. “You two are…” She trailed off. “Anyway,” she said. “Just think, one more fight, and you’ll be rid of me and have the field of glory all to yourself.”

Pyrrha laughed as she shook her head. “I am not anxious to be rid of you,” she said. “On the contrary, I … well, it occurs to me that we have never fought together thus, you and I. We have fought as part of the team, the four of us, but we have never fought just the two of us against two opponents.”

Sunset was silent for a second, her eyes rising upwards to suggest that she was thinking about it. “It wasn’t against two opponents, but we were the last two left against that mutant deathstalker.”

“I’m not sure it counts, considering that Jaune and Ruby were with us then, even if their auras gave out before ours did,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Good point,” Sunset admitted. “Such a good point that it makes me wonder if I’ve made a mistake with this selection.”

“I do not believe you have,” Pyrrha declared. “As I say, I look forward to fighting by your side; or rather, since in many respects you have always fought by my side, perhaps I should say that I look forward to drawing swords together with you against a foe. It seems perverse that I should have done so with Cinder Fall, my enemy, but not with my best friend. We shall find our way to victory, I have no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Sunset agreed. “After all, while we may not have drawn swords together, it isn’t as though we don’t each know how the other fights. I’ll keep Trixie off your back, you have my word.”

“And I will defeat Starlight Glimmer,” Pyrrha agreed. “You have my word on that.” She paused a moment, the smile remaining upon her face. “This will be fun, will it not?” she said. “I hope that it will be, even as I feel perhaps that I should not wish for something fun, on the day—”

“You owe her nothing,” Sunset declared. “Her death … she was your enemy and would have sent you to your death given the opportunity; she has no right to cast a pall over you this day or any other day.”

Pyrrha glanced downwards. “I would have been friends with her and had her love.”

“She would not be friends with you, nor give her love,” Sunset replied. “That being so, put her from your mind. Today is … this is your time, not a time to grieve for one who hated you. Whatever the manner of her death, you cannot be obliged to weep for her.” She reached out for Pyrrha. “Let us go, and either yield great glory up to Starlight and Trixie, or else win great glory for ourselves, and have a lot of fun either way.”

Pyrrha smiled and placed her hand into Sunset’s outstretched open palm. “Let us go,” she said.

“We are now ready to begin the two-on-two rounds!” Doctor Oobleck declared excitedly. “As you’ll remember from yesterday, each victorious team selected just two of their members to go forward to fight in today’s matches!”

“Yes, but repetition doesn’t do any harm, Doctor,” Professor Port declared. “Now, kicking off today with a bang, we have two pairs of fan favourites who impressed the crowd with their performance. Can Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos, and Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer, please make their way out into the arena?”

“Looks like we’re up,” Sunset said. “Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset let go of her hand and turned to lead the way out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena — the light of the world beyond the shadows. The cheers of the crowd grew even louder, and Pyrrha could hear snatches of ‘Three Lions on a Shield’ competing with the cheers, and with the sound of Mistralian hunting horns blowing amidst the press of the crowd.

They walked across the metal surface of the arena, no terrain having been selected yet, and stood in the central hexagon.

Of their opponents, there was yet no—

An explosion of blue and purple smoke erupted in front of them, spilling out from the other side of the hexagon. And when the smoke cleared, there stood Trixie, her arms thrown out and upwards, her starry cape billowing around her, and Starlight Glimmer in her synthetic-looking Atlesian armour, staring at Trixie with a fond smile upon her face.

“The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie has arrived!” Trixie declared to the world as certain sections of the crowd began to cheer louder for her, just as other parts of the audience had redoubled their volume for Pyrrha and Sunset.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

Pyrrha glanced at her. “Did I hear you call someone else ‘dramatic’?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied. “What of it?”

“I say this with love,” said Pyrrha, “but I don’t think either of us have any grounds to throw stones on that account.”

“And after that unorthodox entrance,” Professor Port said, “all our contestants are now assembled: Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!”

Still more cheers, even as the terrain indicators began to whirl around and around — for the two-on-two round, the terrain would be divided four ways, not two as had been the case in their first round match.

Pyrrha would have rather fought on the flat as was the Mistralian custom, but it was what it was.

And even in Mistral, the arena is not without its novelties. I still remember that naval battle to commemorate the anniversary of the conquest of Thrace where they flooded the arena and floated wooden ships upon the water.

“Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Atlas!” Professor Port declared. Trixie swept her hat off her head and bowed low to the crowd.

The holographic icons for the various different terrain types came to a halt one after the other: lava and geysers behind Sunset and Pyrrha, forest and ruins behind Trixie and Starlight.

The metallic surface that Sunset and Pyrrha had so recently crossed disappeared as quadrants of terrain, smaller than the halves over which they had previously fought, emerged from out of the depths of the Coliseum.

Trixie produced a slender white wand from somewhere on her person, twirling it between her fingers.

“Just because you’re some far-famed tournament champion, Pyrrha Nikos,” she said, “don’t expect either Trrrixie or her glamourous assistant—”

“Ahem.”

“—partner to just lay down and let you take the victory without a fight,” Trixie concluded, correcting herself without missing a beat.

Pyrrha smiled as she pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders, settling into a ready stance with Akoúo̱ held before her and Miló, in spear form, drawn back for a thrust. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Starlight also pulled her weapon over her shoulder. In its gun mode, it resembled a standard Atlesian rifle such as General Ironwood’s soldiers used, except for the glowing blue line running down the barrel indicating it did not fire bullets.

And Pyrrha already knew from having seen Starlight fight Ruby that it could transform into a polearm.

It occurred to Pyrrha that, while Sunset was wondering whose semblance Starlight had borrowed for this fight, neither of them had speculated that she might try and copy one of their semblances, possibly even while denying it to Pyrrha or Sunset.

After all, Arslan had worked out what Pyrrha’s semblance was from her match with Cinder; why not Starlight also?

No matter; Pyrrha would not let Starlight lay a hand on her.

“Three!” Professor Port cried, his voice booming out across the arena.

“Two!” Doctor Oobleck shouted.

“One!” roared Professor Port. “Begin!”

Pyrrha started forwards, the sunlight glinting off her polished greaves and cuisses, her red sash beginning to stream out behind her as she took the first steps of her charge toward Starlight.

Starlight raised her rifle — if Pyrrha had heard the name, she shamefully did not recall it — and, even as she began to advance slowly towards Pyrrha with a careful tread, she opened fire, blue bolts of energy erupting from the muzzle of her gun to fly towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha leapt aside, rolling on her shoulder along the grey surface of the central hexagon; she came up onto one knee and flung Akoúo̱ at Starlight. Pyrrha didn’t wait to see if the shield struck home or not; she charged right behind it, Miló gripped in two hands now but still drawn back for a thrusting stroke.

Starlight dodged the flying shield, darting aside, twisting her body at the waist to let Akoúo̱ fly past her, but in that moment, she ceased firing, and a moment was all that Pyrrha needed to close the distance between the two. Teeth gritted, she thrust Miló forward to smite Starlight on the breast.

And Starlight vanished, disappearing into whiffs of smoke that dissipated instantly, as though Miló were a fan blowing them all away.

Of Starlight Glimmer, there was no sign.

So, it was Blake’s semblance, then.

A wise choice, Starlight Glimmer.

“Those of you watching who also watched yesterday’s battle between Team Iron and Team Bronze—”

“And why weren’t you watching all of yesterday’s matches?” asked Professor Port, with a degree of asperity entering into his voice.

“—you may be thinking that you recognise the move that you just witnessed,” Doctor Oobleck said. “Starlight Glimmer’s semblance allows her to temporarily borrow or steal semblances — only one at a time — from others and make use of them herself. It appears that she has borrowed the semblance of Blake Belladonna of Beacon’s Team Iron.”

I wonder if you will reveal my semblance the moment I make use of it, Doctor, thought Pyrrha.

If so, it cannot be avoided, I suppose, and I will have no grounds to complain of unfairness after Ciel and Starlight were thus so rudely outed.

And besides, I only concealed my semblance for an advantage in the tournament, and that circuit is behind me now. So … say on, Doctor Oobleck, I suppose.

Pyrrha held out her arm, and Akoúo̱ flew back onto it, landing smoothly upon her vambrace.

She looked around and could still catch no sign of Starlight Glimmer, which made Pyrrha think that she had gone to ground either in the forest or the ruins, since Blake’s semblance didn’t allow one to disappear for long stretches of time. She would have become visible to the eye the moment Pyrrha dissipated the clone, unless, of course, she were out of sight by more conventional means.

Blake’s semblance. A very good choice.

Amongst her peers, there were two students whom Pyrrha … not feared, but felt a certain amount of caution or wariness towards the prospect of fighting, on account of their semblances: Blake and Weiss. That was not to say their semblances were the only things that made Pyrrha cautious of them — they both had many fine martial qualities — but their semblances were both, each in their own way, particularly tricky.

Yet neither of them were rendered invincible by them, any more than Pyrrha was.

Speaking of 'invincible,' she had to wonder why Starlight hadn’t shot at her yet.

Pyrrha risked a quick glance across the battlefield, to the lava field where Sunset was locked in battle against Trixie, who seemed to be shooting what looked like magic of her own from the tips of her fingers.

Could she be a unicorn from Equestria as well?

There would be time enough to wonder about that later; for now, Starlight was her opponent, just as she and Sunset had agreed before the battle began.

So why haven’t you fired at me, Starlight? I’m standing right here.

Since Starlight would not be so obliging as to reveal herself with a burst of fire, Pyrrha would have to make a choice: the forest or the ruins?

Or, it occurred to her, she could choose to make Starlight reveal herself.

Pyrrha turned, her hair flying behind her, her sash whirling about her, and began to run towards Trixie where she was locked in battle with Sunset.

A burst of fire interrupted her, just as she had expected it would, blue bolts flying out of the dark recesses of the forest and forcing Pyrrha to throw herself to the floor to let them pass overhead.

Pyrrha rolled along the ground as more bolts followed, slamming into the central hexagon and spitting up dust and shards of grey concrete. She leapt to her feet and darted into the geyser field, pursued by more shots from Starlight’s rifle as Pyrrha took cover behind a low rock, huddling beneath it as best she could for maximum concealment.

So, it was the forest then.

A geyser erupted, boiling hot water leaping into the air, spray seeming to dance in the air as it fell from the vertical stream; the first geyser was still erupting when a second blew off also, and Pyrrha used them both to conceal herself, darting behind first one, then the other, invisible to Starlight from behind the walls of water, changing her position without her Atlesian opponent seeing it.

Well… Pyrrha’s eyes darted swiftly up to the enormous television screens — something else they didn’t have in any Mistralian arena — mounted above the four corners of the ring; they were for the benefit of the crowd, but they could also, she supposed, benefit one’s opponents.

They could have benefited me, if I had thought to use them in my last match, Pyrrha thought to herself, but I am not used to their presence in my tournaments.

She had hope that the trees would prevent Starlight from seeing Pyrrha, or anything else, on the screens.

Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword as she used the cover of another erupting geyser to swift positions again, moving closer to the edge of the battlefield, and thus to the place were the forest and geyser biomes met as part of the circumvallation of the central hexagon.

And so, unseen by Starlight and untroubled by fire from out of the forest, she was able to cross from the geyser field and into the woods without having to expose herself by crossing the open ground in the centre of the battlefield.

The woods were thick, or at least they seemed so to Pyrrha; to her, the trees pressed close and cast long shadows. She could see no sign of Starlight anywhere; perhaps she was not there, perhaps Pyrrha had not seen her leave just as she had not seen Pyrrha enter, but Pyrrha doubted it. Starlight was still here, and though her Atlesian armour did not look stealthy, it was still a good sight stealthier than Pyrrha’s gilded armour, the gorget around her neck, the golden circlet on her brown, the bronze shield she bore.

Pyrrha did not expect to sneak up on her opponent; rather, the reverse.

She kept Akoúo̱ up in front of her, covering her chest and the lower part of her neck, as she moved cautiously through the trees, Miló held in a low guard ready to strike.

She could see nothing but the trees all around her and the shadows they cast upon the artificial grass. They surrounded her still, and yet, by the very fact that they concealed her foe, there seemed to be a malevolent aspect about them, as though they were a hostile crowd — no, worse than a crowd, for a crowd would cheer at least. These trees, it seemed to her, had chosen their side, and yet, even as they watched to see if Pyrrha would fall, their support for Starlight lacked enthusiasm. It was a cold thing, almost … dead.

As dead as Phoebe’s ambitions. As dead as they always were since her mother died, lacking anyone for whom she fought or anything but bitterness and envy.

Pyrrha frowned. She should not think of Phoebe now; she would not. She had a battle to fight; think only of that, focus on that.

Fight for Sunset, she thought. She glanced quickly at the golden silk tied around her arm, fight for Jaune, fight for everyone who puts their hopes on me.

Come, Starlight, will you not help drive these distractions from my mind? Or do you intend to hide from me until Sunset and Trixie have decided the issue between them?

Starlight emerged from the shadows, weapon slung across her back, fists clenched, throwing a punch at the back of Pyrrha’s head.

Pyrrha whirled around just in time, raising Akoúo̱ to deflect the blow. Starlight’s fist glanced off the bronze surface of the shield, her arm sliding over it. Pyrrha stepped forward, using Akoúo̱ to pull Starlight off balance while she slashed at Starlight’s midriff with her sword.

Starlight dissipated into smoke and shadow, reappearing a couple of feet behind where she had been, before she hurled herself on Pyrrha once again, fists at the ready.

Pyrrha met her, slashing crosswise with Miló. Starlight evaded the blow, her body twisting nimbly despite her armour, managing to throw a punch in Pyrrha’s direction, but the blow was weaker than it would have been, and with Starlight out of position as she was, Pyrrha was able to evade the blow in turn, pirouetting on her toe with a dancer’s grace to not only let the blow fly past her but also build momentum for another slashing stroke.

Starlight threw herself onto the ground, rolling backwards before leaping to her feet. Pyrrha pursued, not wanting to let Starlight slip away into the shadows. Not that it seemed that Starlight had any thought of escaping from her; as Pyrrha came on, she launched a spinning kick aimed squarely at Pyrrha’s head.

Pyrrha took the blow on Akoúo̱, shielding her head and face with it, feeling the force of Starlight’s blow as it jarred against her arm; she felt her aura drop slightly and had to brace her shield with her sword hand to stop the blow.

But once the blow was stopped, she was free to slash down at Starlight’s leg.

Starlight used another clone to get away, then reappeared behind Pyrrha, dropping down upon her from on high.

Pyrrha switched Miló from sword to spear for greater reach, turning and lunging upwards to puncture Starlight’s clone, which disappeared.

Starlight attacked from her right, and Pyrrha gave ground to give herself time to switch Miló back from spear into sword again, these trees pressed too close for a long weapon; doubtless, that was why Starlight was attacking with her fists instead of with her polearm.

Starlight followed after her, throwing out punches, trying to catch Pyrrha before her weapon transformed; fortunately, Miló could transform very quickly indeed, and Pyrrha thrust out with the blade, pricking Starlight’s shoulder with the point.

Another clone, another shadowy figure gone before Starlight appeared behind Pyrrha once again — behind and very close at hand, so close that Pyrrha could feel her breath on the back of her neck.

Pyrrha threw herself forwards, using Akoúo̱ as a battering ram to smash through a tree in a shower of splinters before turning, shattered wood falling down all around her, to face Starlight.

Starlight who wasn’t there.

Starlight who had jumped up into the air and now descended through the trees like a thunderbolt, one foot extended to slam down into Pyrrha as she crashed through the branches of the trees.

Pyrrha sidestepped, cutting upwards, her blow aiming for Starlight’s navel.

Another clone, another shadow dissipated, another Starlight appearing at Pyrrha’s side, leg lashing out in a sideswipe to cut Pyrrha’s legs out from under her.

Pyrrha jumped up, letting Starlight’s sweeping kick pass harmlessly beneath her before she kicked out with one foot at Starlight’s chest.

Starlight turned into a statue of ice; at least, she did for a second at most before the ice sculpture expanded outwards into a mere clump of ice — a clump which enclosed Pyrrha’s leg up past her knee.

Starlight was above her, fist drawn back.

Pyrrha gritted her teeth, throwing her shield straight upwards at Starlight even as she kicked at the ice with her free foot. Starlight disappeared, the clone disappearing in a shadowy haze as Akoúo̱ flew through where she had been, while Pyrrha’s blow — she had concentrated her aura around her boot a little more than usual — shattered the block of ice, scattering icicles in all directions.

Pyrrha fell, landing on her back on the forest floor, leaping to her feet immediately.

Starlight reappeared, and she seemed to have given up on her fists, because she had her rifle cradled in her arms once more — although the barrel was pointed towards the ground, not aimed at Pyrrha.

“You know,” she said, “I thought for sure that if I came at you from all directions, I was bound to catch you by surprise from one of them — or at least be faster than you could move. I underestimated you.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Starlight paused for a moment. “Before the match, I wondered if you might have come up with a strategy to deal with Blake’s semblance … letting Blake — or me — drain my own aura creating clones while you just didn’t let yourself get hit, that is your strategy, isn’t it?”

“Not the most elegant way of winning, not the most satisfying,” Pyrrha admitted. “And not a manner of winning that will please the crowd, I fear. But Blake’s semblance is so very enviable: she can’t be hit unless she allows herself to be hit. I’d never admit this to her, but I’m really rather jealous.”

Starlight sniggered. “Yeah, well … Blake’s just cool, isn’t she? Maybe cool enough that she could have landed a hit on you.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I … will not deny the possibility. As you say, she is very cool. You’ll be lucky to have her, up in Atlas.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Starlight replied. “Just like you don’t need to tell me that this isn’t really working out. So…” She raised her rifle, aiming at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha charged forwards, the black glow of her Polarity surrounding both arms as with one hand she summoned Akoúo̱ back to her, and with the other, she threw Starlight’s aim off ever so slightly so that the blue bolts of her rifle flew just past Pyrrha’s head and over her shoulder.

Starlight’s eyes widened as Pyrrha closed in.

Pyrrha fell upon her like a wolf from the fold.

Again, Starlight left a clone in her place, but this time, the clone was of earth, a stone statue of Starlight Glimmer standing where the real Starlight had stood just a moment ago.

And the real Starlight standing behind it, at the edge of the forest, already firing.

She meant for Pyrrha, carried by her momentum, to smash through the stone clone and take the fire.

And it was too late for Pyrrha to stop, her momentum would bear her on regardless, but it was not too late to throw herself forward, landing flat on the ground, skidding along the grass with her left hand — the hand onto which Akoúo̱ flew and landed on her vambrace — held out in front of her as Miló switched from sword to rifle mode in her right hand.

Pyrrha skidded forwards, smashing through the feet of the earth clone which toppled forwards — Pyrrha raised her legs at the knees in an almost equine kick to shatter the statue before it could fall on her — and continuing to skid forwards as Starlight’s bolts of energy flew over her.

Starlight adjusted her aim downwards, but with Miló in rifle mode — and discarding Akoúo̱ to one side for a moment — Pyrrha could aim too, and she fired first.

It was not quite true to say that Blake, or someone with Blake’s semblance, could only be hit if they allowed themselves to be hit.

They could also be hit if they were taken by surprise.

And Starlight was surprised as the rifle round hit her in the chest. It did not knock her off her feet, but it did make her reel backwards.

The second shot, following hard upon the first, did knock her off her feet.

Pyrrha rose to her knees, and while Starlight was momentarily down, she switched her attention to Trixie, firing a single shot in her direction.

Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset, a great gust of flame erupting from it, boiling out of it like dragon’s breath straight.

Sunset took a step back, raising her hands as she conjured up a shield to protect herself, the bubble of green magic surrounding her like a cocoon. The flames passed around the shield, lapping over it like water sweeping over a rock; they burned all around Sunset … but Sunset felt nothing of them. She ought to have been able to feel the flames against her shield, trying to break through the magic, but she couldn’t. She felt nothing at all.

Of course not.

Sunset lowered the shield and stood in the middle of the flames that did her no harm, did not even chip at her aura, did not even make her feel a little warmer. There was nothing to the illusory flames, conjured by Trixie’s semblance, but seeming.

Just as there was nothing but seeming to the Trixie who stood in front of Sunset, seeming to cast the flames that did not burn her.

So where was the real Trixie? To the left, to the right?

Above!

Sunset looked up to see Trixie in the air above her; she must have concentrated her aura into her legs to have made such a mighty leap, and now, she had soared up towards the shield that sealed off the arena ceiling, the gold and silver stars of her cape glistening in the morning sunlight as the cape itself flew out behind her.

Trixie’s wand was in her right hand, but it was her left hand that she drew back as if to throw something.

Sunset raised her palms, two bolts of magic blasting out of the palms of her hands, just as Trixie threw a handful of miniature fireballs — dust crystals that she had energised with her aura, no doubt — down towards Sunset.

Sunset teleported backwards, into the midst of the lava biome, where — a new feature that had not been present in the four-on-four round — streams of lava leapt intermittently upwards into the air, the burning hot molten rock rising six or seven feet up before falling down to the surface again.

Luckily, none of them were immediately near Sunset, but she kept one eye on them regardless. With her other eye, she saw Trixie’s fireballs slam down into the central hexagon where she’d been standing.

She saw one of her twin bolts of magic miss Trixie as she began to fall.

But she also saw the other bolt wing her on the shoulder, turning her descent into a spinning drop, her cape wrapping itself around her body as she fell towards the edge of the lava field.

Sunset unslung Sol Invictus from her shoulder as quickly as she could, took aim, and fired a fire dust round, and then another.

Like with the magic, the first missed.

Unlike with her magic, the second shot missed as well.

And Trixie hit the ground before Sunset would have expected she would, based on—

Right. More illusions.

Trixie leapt to her feet and leapt towards Sunset; she didn’t run, or charge; she truly leapt in a single bound that carried her over the lava, flying towards her opponent like an arrow from a bow.

Sunset fired a third time, and this time, she definitely hit, but though Trixie’s aura dropped, her momentum was not slowed in the least.

Trixie raised her wand.

Sunset raised one hand, conjuring another shield around her as the flames, real flames this time, surrounded her, engulfed her, passed all around the shield and over it as well. She could feel the heat through the shield, and she could feel the flames licking at her magic, biting at it, trying to find a way to break through and get at Sunset herself.

The flames died as swiftly as they had sprung up as Trixie flew through the dying flames, slamming the palm of her left hand into the green magical barrier. Sunset could feel the force of the blow, it vibrated through her hand and down her arm as though she had physically blocked the stroke — although she had the advantage that it did no damage to her aura — but it wasn’t powerful enough to break the barrier.

Trixie roared as she half-spun upon her toe, delivering a prodigious kick with a foot which must have still had more than its fair share of aura concentrated within it. Trixie’s boot collided with Sunset’s shield with enough force to make a crack appear in the magic.

Sunset let out a gasping breath, her arm trembling as she felt the force of that more powerful blow through the magic. She dropped the shield and teleported away, reappearing with a crack and a flash of green light on the border between the lava and geyser biomes.

Sunset’s hand was still up, and still wreathed in emerald magic, as she fired another magical blast straight at Trixie.

Trixie flinched away as she raised her own hand, and a blast of light blue something, a burst that almost resembled a cloud, so fluffy were its borders, whatever it was, it leapt from Trixie’s palm and intercepted Sunset’s magical bolt, colliding with it in mid-air, where both exploded in a turquoise blast.

Sunset’s eyes widened. Her eyebrows rose besides.

What was that?

She could almost hear Princess Celestia’s voice in her head. “I’m surprised at you, my little sunbeam, that you cannot recognise magic when you see it in front of you.”

But, Princess Celestia, humans don’t have magic!

“Then why was Pyrrha’s life in danger? Why did you strive to revive Amber? Why is Amber still in danger?”

Point taken, but the magic of the Maidens is so special precisely because it’s rare. There are only four of them, and I am confident in saying that Trixie isn’t one of them.

Although Rainbow did think that Starlight might be. She could have been on the right track but not quite aiming at the right target.

But then why would she use her secret magic in the tournament? Why would she be allowed to?

“Why should there not be other magics in the world, besides the four Maidens? Rarity need not imply exclusivity, after all.”

Another fine point, Princess, and yet at the same time … magic? If humans have magic of their own, then why am I only seeing it now? Can it really be so rare? And if it is not rare but rather secret, then again, why is Trixie so casually revealing it now?

Could it be she doesn’t know what it is she has?

Trixie opened her eyes.

“It … it worked?” she asked. “It worked! It worked! Yes! Trixie is great and powerful!” She pointed at Sunset. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve!”

Sunset grinned. “So it would seem. Great and powerful after all.”

“Naturally,” Trixie declared. She preened like a parrot as she held her wand out, not pointing it at Sunset but off to her side, and ostentatiously ejected the fire dust canister from the base of her wand.

From out of her sleeve, Trixie plucked a thin phial of cyan hard-light dust.

“Trrrrrixie doesn’t usually use hard-light dust,” Trixie declared as she slammed the phial into the base of her wand, “but against someone almost as powerrrrrrrful as me, Trrrrrixie was ready to pull out all the stops!”

A thin line of hard-light emerged from out of the tip of Trixie’s wand, extending about three feet out from the tip of the white wand like a slender sabre made of light.

Trixie grinned, twirling the blade in one hand as lava flows erupted on either side of her.

Sunset fired a bolt of magic from her palm. Trixie’s blade was a blur of light in her hand as she whirled it in front of her, intercepting the magical hand blast and deflecting it off towards the crowd in the stands. The blast struck the shield that protected the spectators from such effects, but Sunset doubted that stopped at least some people from shrinking back before the assault.

Trixie raised her left hand, palm out facing towards Sunset, fingers bent ever so slightly, not enough to be making claws but close.

Her fingers twitched.

Five clouds — that really was what they looked like to Sunset; she couldn’t help but think of them that way — of Trixie’s magic, wherever she’d gotten it from, appeared above her head, surrounding her like a half-halo.

One by one, they leapt forward, cutting through the air towards Sunset.

From the fingers of her free hand, Sunset cast magic straight back at them, miniature bolts of magic leaping from her fingertips to intercept Trixie’s blasts just as Trixie had intercepted hers. With her other hand, she quickly slung Sol Invictus back over her shoulder and loosed more magical blasts from her other fingertips.

Sunset’s first volley collided with Trixie’s attack, a succession of turquoise explosions blooming in the air between them. Sunset’s second volley shot through the clouds, returning Trixie’s compliment, but Trixie’s hard-light beam traced delicate patterns through the air as she deflected all of them away from her — to the ground, sending lava bursting into the air left and right, towards the stands, even back at Sunset, which she narrowly avoided.

More magic leapt from Trixie, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own.

She hadn’t intended, going into this tournament, to show off her magic to this extent; play it safe, she thought, rely on weapons and dust, she thought, keep it low-key, she thought. Don’t raise too many questions.

Well, that was then. That was before she found out that Trixie — Trixie! — had magic. She certainly wasn’t going to hold back now. If this was a magic duel, then she wasn’t going to give Trixie Lulamoon any reason to think that she had beaten Sunset Shimmer!

Trixie fired more magic at her, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own, magical bolts flying from the fingers of her right hand to answer every blue cloud that Trixie hurled her way, catching all of them as myriad turquoise flowers bloomed in the air between them.

Sunset, she had to admit to herself, used her magic in a few simple, trusted ways in a fight; Trixie, it seemed, had only one way of using her magic in battle — although perhaps she simply hadn’t had occasion to do anything else with it. But, in spite of that lack of versatility, as she fired her magic at Sunset, she had such a bright smile on her face, so much light gleaming in her eyes — she looked as though she were about to laugh with joy — that it seemed almost a shame not to hand her the victory.

Not that Sunset was going to, of course.

Teleport in close, use Soteria to beat down her guard, blast her in the chest?

That might work, but it might not provide me with the satisfaction I'm looking for.

If this is a magical duel, I'd like to beat her with magic.

A lava flow erupted, spewing the molten rock up into the air.

Sunset smiled out of one corner of her mouth, and surreptitiously — she hoped it was surreptitious, at any rate — she shifted her right hand behind her back so that Trixie couldn't see it glowing with magic.

With her left hand, Sunset kept up the duel with Trixie, although all of her magical bolts were intercepted either by Trixie's own magic or by the hard-light emanating from her wand. On the other hand, none of Trixie's magic was getting through either. It was starting to look as though they were at a stalemate, neither able to penetrate the other's defences.

Perhaps Trixie might have tried a new approach if another lava flow had not burst upwards at just that moment.

Sunset seized the leaping lava in the grip of her telekinesis; it was a little difficult with liquid — there was always a slippery quality to it that she could feel through her magic — but nevertheless, Sunset was able to hang onto the lava, wrapped in a bubble of her magical power, and yank it through the air, over the lava field and smack it into Trixie even as she turned to see it coming.

Trixie cried out as the lava covered one side of her face, her hand and arm, parts of her body, dropping her aura down into the yellow as she was knocked to the smouldering surface of the lava field. Trixie scrambled upright, barely avoiding another erupting lava flow, and raised her hand towards Sunset again.

This time, nothing happened.

Trixie grunted, twitching her fingers. Still, nothing happened.

Trixie growled wordlessly, a sound like a lawn-mower passing her lips as she screwed up her face in concentration.

Nothing happened.

"Projectile … go!" Trixie shouted. "Projectile … go!" She let out a kind of screeching sound. "Why isn't it working?"

Because it's tied to your emotions, Sunset thought, and you've come down off the euphoria of being able to do it the first time. Do you believe that you can do it consistently?

She might have been wrong about that, it might be that Trixie had simply used up her reserves of magical energy, or it might be something completely different — this wasn't Equestrian magic, after all. But, if it was Equestrian magic, then, well, there was an emotional component to it. It was a component that magic school — any magic school, still less a prestigious one — worked hard to train young unicorns out of so that they could master their abilities in any mood, but the link was there, especially if you were self-taught or just starting out as Trixie was.

But this was hardly the time or the place for Sunset to start giving Trixie advice on how to use her magic — there would be time for that after the battle was over — and so she kept quiet and drew Soteria across her back.

She had already used more magic than was wise, and Trixie's hard-light gave her a counter to it, and at this point, it felt a little unfair to abuse her advantage over Trixie; it would be like rubbing in her misfortune.

Trixie saw her and stopped growling at the failure of her magic. She settled into a fighting stance, her wand-sword drawn back behind her head, the light itself extending just past her eye level, while with her free hand she pointed at Sunset.

For her part, Sunset gripped Soteria in both hands, the black blade held before her in a low guard.

Lava erupted around Trixie. The geysers leapt up behind Sunset.

Sunset charged back into the lava field, and Trixie charged to meet her. As she charged, Trixie produced another fire dust crystal, charged it with a touch of aura, and flung it as a fireball straight at Sunset, who batted it aside with a blow of her sword. The fireball exploded, the heat washing over Sunset, but doing no harm to her aura as she charged.

The two closed in on one another like rival stags. Sunset swung Soteria two-handed in a diagonal slashing stroke. Trixie parried with her hard-light beam in one hand, but Sunset could see the force of her own blow jarring Trixie's arm, forcing it downwards. Trixie took a step back, yanking her blade away before countering, twirling her wand in her fingers before she brought the beam of light down on Sunset's shoulder. It was Sunset's turn to parry, turning the stroke aside before—

Starlight Glimmer charged at Sunset from her right, her pole-arm whirling.

Huh? What happened to Pyrrha?

Sunset began to retreat, trying to keep both Trixie and Starlight in view. Starlight brought her polearm straight down towards Sunset's head; Sunset raised her sword to block the blow.

Trixie slammed her beam of hard-light into Sunset's armoured gut and into her side, beating her aura level down as Sunset staggered backwards, parrying a third blow even as she glanced left and right to try and avoid any lava eruptions.

Starlight had disappeared.

Because she was never there at all.

Sunset attacked again. Trixie gave ground before her, but not fast enough to get away from Sunset, who thrust Soteria straight forwards. Trixie parried, but she wasn't strong enough to turn the stroke aside enough to stop Sunset from jabbing her in the gut. Trixie countered, forcing Sunset to parry in turn, and she was able to turn Trixie's thrust aside completely before she slashed at Trixie's midriff. Trixie jumped back a step, the stroke missing her. Sunset reversed her slash for a second attempt; Trixie parried, holding her wand in both hands now, resisting Sunset's momentum for just a second before bringing her light beam upwards and then down towards Sunset's crown. Sunset let go of the hilt of her sword with one hand, raising it above her to take the blow upon her vambrace, while with the other hand jabbing outwards with her black sword.

Trixie winced as she was struck in the stomach, staggering back, scuttling away when some lava burst out of the ground too near her.

"Trrrrixie," she declared, "is grrrrreat and powerrrrrrful, not a great swordswoman." The beam of hard-light streaming from her wand died as she ejected the phial of hard-light she had inserted into it earlier. "That was meant for you attacking me from a distance."

And now you've disarmed yourself, Sunset thought as she closed in for the metaphorical kill.

Again Trixie jumped, somersaulting over Sunset's head, and as she leapt, she produced a canister of yellow lightning dust that she slammed into the back of her wand so that when she landed, she was armed once more.

Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset.

Sunset gathered her magic to conjure up a shield.

There was a bang, the sharp report of Miló echoing in Sunset's ears as Trixie's wand was blown out of her hand, flying away to land somewhere in the lava field.

Trixie stared, a little wide-eyed, at her empty hand where her wand had been.

She blinked twice, then looked at Sunset.

"She's good," Trixie said.

Sunset grinned. "Yep," she agreed. "She's the best."

Trixie sighed and then raised her palms, her feet shifting as she settled into a posture that almost certainly belonged to some martial art, although Sunset didn't know the name of it. "Trixie won't go down without a fight!"

"I'd expect nothing less," Sunset said.

Trixie charged. Sunset let Soteria fall to the ground and unslung Sol Invictus once more from her shoulder.

She had time for a single shot before Trixie reached her.

A single shot was all it took.

"Trixie Lulamoon's aura has dropped below the limit!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "She has been eliminated from the match."

Trixie stood, not still — she was swaying a little from side to side — but without any sense of deliberate motion. Finally, with a low and wordless moan, she dropped to her knees.

Sunset stepped forward, and offered Trixie her hand up. "That was pretty fun, I thought."

Trixie looked up at her. "Aren't you going to—?"

"What?" Sunset asked. "Steal Pyrrha's kill?"

"I was going to say help out your teammate," Trixie said.

"Nah, Pyrrha doesn't need my help with this," Sunset replied. "And as much to the point, I doubt her lady mother would appreciate it if I gave her my help. I'm sorry, but Pyrrha's got this."

I hope you don't mind the helping hand, Sunset.

Pyrrha returned her attention to Starlight.

They were both out of the forest now, perched upon the edge of the ruins, with rubble strewn around them as though one of General Ironwood's cruisers had flown overhead to drop a bomb or two upon the place. Starlight, having regained her feet, was set a little higher than Pyrrha, upon a slightly slanted slab of debris — part of a wall, or meant to resemble such — supported by an uneven mound of rubble beneath.

The rifle in her hands transformed; it shifted, accompanied by a fair amount of electronic buzzing, out of its rifle mode and into its polearm form; the blade glowed blue as Starlight gripped the metal shaft with both hands.

Pyrrha rose to her feet, Miló transforming smoothly from rifle into spear; she held said spear in one hand while she slung Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her left arm.

She did not think that Starlight would lightly use another clone.

And so she attacked, Akoúo̱ held before her; as she came on, approaching the fallen wall where Starlight stood, Starlight swiped at her with her polearm, trying to use her longer weapon to keep Pyrrha at bay, but Pyrrha ducked the blow and let the glowing blade pass cleanly over her head. She rose up, half turning to bring Akoúo̱ down upon the polearm, hoping to force it to the ground and maybe even out of Starlight's hand, but Starlight wrenched it away, turning in place and raising the weapon so that it swiftly passed out of Pyrrha's reach. Pyrrha closed the distance with Starlight, thrusting Miló forwards towards her chest. Starlight gave ground, retreating so that Pyrrha ran out of arm's length before the tip of her spear touched Starlight's armour. Starlight leapt backwards, vaulting onto a shattered wall behind her, gaining greater elevation over Pyrrha as she brought the polearm down on Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha raised Akoúo̱ above her head and turned the stroke aside, angling her shield in such a way that Starlight's blade skittered off the bronze as Pyrrha twisted her body aside and used the shield to force the halberd blade down to the ground, where it bit deep into the stone. She swiped at Starlight's legs with Miló, but Starlight leapt over the spear and landed on the wall again.

Pyrrha backed away a step or two, then mounted the wall where Starlight stood, so that they faced one another both perched upon this narrow strip of shattered stonework.

Pyrrha slung Akoúo̱ across her back and gripped Miló in both hands, sacrificing a little of the spear's length for greater control; for her part, Starlight adjusted her grip on her own weapon, holding it closer to the blade so that she had less reach but, again, more control over it.

They met in the middle of the wall, weapons whirling in their hands. Pyrrha attacked high and was blocked; Starlight countered by trying to cut Pyrrha's legs out from under her, but Pyrrha leapt over the swiping blade to land upon the wall again. Starlight did the same thing when Pyrrha tried it, just as Pyrrha blocked Starlight's high attack with Miló.

She was good. Quick, strong, well-trained; Pyrrha could not break her guard, even as Starlight could not break Pyrrha's. Miló clashed with Starlight's glaive again and again, metal ringing and clanking, but whatever one did, whatever approach one tried, the other could counter it. They parried, and they parried, and they parried, and if they had chosen to attack the wall, they would have done more damage to it than they were doing to one another's aura. Miló was a blur at times in Pyrrha's hand, but Starlight's weapon was just as much a blur in her sure-handed grasp, and there was not enough in it between them for Pyrrha to break through in a frontal assault.

Pyrrha could see why General Ironwood had thought that she might be worthy to guard the powers of a Maiden.

But still … her polearm was made of metal.

Pyrrha did not especially like using her semblance in this way; it felt … it felt more dishonest, perhaps because she was keeping it a secret, than the more flamboyant, obvious uses to which other fighters put their semblances.

She did not like using her semblance in this way, but at the same time, it was her semblance, to do with as she would within the rules of the tournament, and she did like winning, at least a little.

And so, a faint black outline surrounded her right hand, and as Starlight moved her polearm to black Pyrrha’s next strike, Pyrrha threw her weapon ever so slightly off.

And in so doing, created an opening that Miló crashed through to slam into Starlight’s chest. Pyrrha let off the dust charge in the butt of her spear, extending Miló’s tip outwards and adding yet more force to the blow as Starlight was hurled backwards off the wall to land heavily upon the rubble beneath.

She began to roll down the rubble slope, but Pyrrha did not wait for her to stop; she leapt down in pursuit of her adversary, pulling Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her arm as she did so. She stood astride Starlight and slammed her shield down onto the back of Starlight’s head, doing the double damage of the impact and the fact that it slammed Starlight’s head down into the ground.

Pyrrha raised her shield and brought it down again, but this time, Starlight did use another clone to escape.

She reappeared in the shadows of the bombed out building that dominated the ruins, charging out with her polearm levelled like a spear. Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ around to block and turn the blow, but Starlight recoiled before she struck, drawing back, then parrying Pyrrha’s own thrust with Miló.

Two more thrusts, and again, Starlight held her off, her reflexes swift and sure enough to withstand Pyrrha’s probing attacks, for all that she was forced to give ground in the face of the onslaught.

Another touch of Polarity, another slight movement in Starlight’s weapon, another gap opened in Starlight’s guard, and Pyrrha struck her in the shoulder with such force that Starlight staggered back into the wall of the building.

She stared at her polearm for a second, and then discarded it, letting it clatter down amongst the stones of the ruin.

Starlight raised her fists as she stepped away from the wall. Her face was inscrutable.

Pyrrha nodded and stepped into a guard.

Miló switched from spear to sword in her hands, clicking and clacking.

Starlight attacked with a bellowing roar, rushing Pyrrha and lashing out with a high kick that made Pyrrha retreat before it. Starlight threw out one punch, then another, both her fists slamming into Akoúo̱ with a jarring force. She kicked again, leaping into the air before bringing her foot down upon Pyrrha, who took the blow upon Akoúo̱ — she could feel the force of it jarring through her arm — before using the shield to toss Starlight backwards. And as Starlight fell, so, too, did Pyrrha fall on her, slashing at her with her sword once, twice, three times before Starlight struck the ground and rolled immediately back onto her feet.

Starlight hesitated, head down, hands down by her side.

Then she looked up at Pyrrha and grinned.

And then she attacked again.

Pyrrha flowed forwards, slashing with Miló.

Starlight exploded. Or rather, the clone infused with fire dust exploded, the heat washing over Pyrrha, the light blinding her as the force of the blast picked her up and bore her backwards, carrying her into the wall on which she and Starlight had lately fought with a force that cracked the stonework and sent shockwaves reverberating through Pyrrha’s aura as it dropped.

Pyrrha recovered her feet and jumped over the wall, half-crouching down behind it as cover, eyes searching for Starlight.

She found Starlight standing where her clone had exploded, looking at Pyrrha.

She held up one finger of one hand.

One hit. She had gotten a hit on Pyrrha.

Pyrrha straightened up and bowed her head, then, shifting Miló from sword back into spear mode, she threw it like a javelin at Starlight Glimmer.

It flew straight and true and smote her on the breast.

“And now, Starlight Glimmer has also been eliminated by aura depletion!” Professor Port declared, as Starlight fell backwards. “The winners of this match are Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos!”

A vast cheer rose up from the crowd then fell on Pyrrha like a great wave crashing down upon the shore. It seemed to come from all sides, it fell like rain from the heavens, it echoed like thunder above her head.

But it could not drown out the single voice that drew closer and closer to her.

“We won!” Sunset yelled as she ran across the battlefield. “WE WON!”

Pyrrha laughed brightly. “Yes,” she said, as Sunset scrambled across the ruin to reach her. “Yes, we did.” She raised one eyebrow. “Did you ever doubt it?”

Sunset gasped. “No,” she said at once. “No, of course not, but … but even so.” She placed both hands on Pyrrha’s shoulders. “We won, together.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Together. After a fashion.”

“Well, yes, I suppose we didn’t exactly fight as one, but…” Sunset trailed off. “That shot of yours, it was a very nice shot, but you could have shot Trixie herself. Did you want to leave her for me, or were you showing off your own accuracy?”

Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. “Can it be both?” she asked.

Sunset chuckled. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I mean, if there is ever a time for showing off, I suppose this is it.” She pulled Pyrrha into a hug, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha’s shoulders and drawing her in. Pyrrha could feel Sunset’s hair against her cheek, a cushion between their two faces.

“Thanks, Pyrrha. I’m glad … I’m glad we were both here.”

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle of her own as she put her arms around Sunset’s waist. “I’m glad we were both here too.”

They half released one another, but they kept one arm each on the other — Sunset’s arm on Pyrrha’s shoulder, Pyrrha’s arm around Sunset’s waist — as they turned to face a part of the crowd that surrounded them and waved to acknowledge their cheers.

Pyrrha wore a polite smile, but Sunset’s smile was bright, joyous; her green eyes sparkled, her tail swept eagerly from side to side. She looked like someone parched who had come to a river of cool, clear water.

She looked like someone who had been waiting years for this.

Pyrrha laughed a little, and her own smile brightened, and she waved more eagerly to the crowd because today, whatever had happened, whatever would happen, today was a good day.

They kept their arms on one another as they took a bow, together.

Author's Note

The picture of Trixie and Starlight, which I have wanted for quite some time, was done for me by Schruby, while the picture of Sunset and Pyrrha there at the end was done by the talented McMystery.

The Gathering (New)

The Gathering

“Starlight?” Trixie called as she picked her way over the rubble of the ruin, her boots slipping a little on the uneven surface. “Starlight, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Starlight replied, her voice a little hoarse as she raised one hand in the air. “Yeah, Trix, I’m okay.” She picked herself up off the ground, brushing some dust off her pants as she did so. She didn’t quite look at Trixie, and when she did, there was a sheepish quality to her smile, and she didn’t raise her head all the way. “Trixie—”

“Starlight,” Trixie said, before Starlight could really say anything. She put one hand upon her hip and fell silent for a moment, raising her head to look around her at the crowd, the crowd that were cheering for Pyrrha and Sunset. “Starlight,” she repeated, “as my father once said to me: sometimes, you kill it up on stage, and sometimes, you die. On stage, I mean; actual dying isn’t something to be so blasé about.”

Starlight chuckled. “I thought your old man owned a magic shop in Atlas.”

“Yeah, now he does,” Trixie declared. “But in his youth, Artemis Lulamoon was one of the greatest performing magicians ever seen in Remnant! Not to mention an adventurer and a treasure hunter besides. Trixie’s point is … play up, and play the game.”

“You were … unfortunate,” Pyrrha said quietly, “but I do not think that you have anything to be ashamed of.”

“We have a little to be ashamed of,” Trixie said, “and Trixie is disappointed that we’ll never get the chance to settle the score with you.”

“Not in the arena, no,” Pyrrha admitted. “But outside of it? Who can tell how the winds of fate will blow?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Trixie’s mouth. “Then the great and powerful Trixie will look forward to it. In the meantime,” she swept her hat off her head, “Trixie takes her hat off to you both.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Much obliged.”

Sunset took a step towards her, and then another. She closed the distance between them until she was practically whispering in Trixie’s ear. “When you get back to Atlas after all this, give me a call; I might be able to help you out with your magic. No guarantees, but … it might help you out.”

Trixie was very still and silent for a moment. “Seriously?” she asked softly. “You … seriously?”

“Like I said,” Sunset reminded her, “I don’t promise anything, but … yes, seriously. Honestly … I think I owe you that much.”

“Yeah, you bet you do!” Trixie declared. Her tone softened almost immediately. “Do you really think you can?”

Sunset hesitated. “I have … no idea.”

“That isn’t quite the answer that Trixie would have liked,” Trixie muttered. She sighed. “To be able to use it whenever, on command, no effort, no screw ups, no problems … that would be more wonderful than winning this whole tournament. Trixie — I — would appreciate that.”

“Then I’ll do my best,” Sunset said. “And perhaps in return, you can tell me where it comes from?”

Trixie shrugged. “Trixie’s mother gave it to her.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Not your father?”

Trixie chuckled. “Trixie’s father used to escape from a locked box before he drowned. Trixie’s mom has the real magic. But Trixie’s dad … dad always believed, even when mom didn’t, and a believing heart … that’s kind of magical too, don’t you think?”

Sunset smiled. “Absolutely.” She held out her hand. “Well played.”

Trixie took Sunset’s hand and squeezed it firmly. “Congratulations, Sunset Shimmer.”

They both released the other’s hands, and Sunset turned away from Trixie — and Starlight — and walked back towards Pyrrha.

“Shall we?” she asked, holding out her arm.

Pyrrha chuckled lightly and slipped her hand into the crook of Sunset’s arm as they began to walk across the battlefield towards their exit.

The cheers of the crowd were still falling down upon them, although the clamour had settled down a little so that, rather than falling like rain, they were falling instead like autumn leaves.

It was still very pleasant to listen to.

Sunset found that she was even getting used to that Mistralian song.

“Jewels remain, still gleaming,” Sunset murmured.

“I’m sure there’s no need for that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sunset replied. “It’s kind of catchy. I might start to sing it when your one-on-one matches start.”

“You would probably sing it more pleasantly than most,” Pyrrha conceded, a smile upon her face, “but please don’t feel obliged to. Your good wishes are more than sufficient, and I feel those in my heart without you needing to give voice to them.” She paused for a moment. “What was it that you and Trixie were talking about?”

“I…” Sunset lowered her voice just a little, even though she wasn’t sure if there was a point to that. “I offered to help Trixie with her magic, over the scroll, when she gets back to Atlas.”

“'Her magic'?” Pyrrha repeated. She was silent for a moment. “So … it was magic, what I saw. I caught a glimpse of it, and I thought … well, it did seem very similar to your own, but at the same time … how? Is she—?”

“A Maiden?” Sunset guessed. “No, I don’t think so. I think a Maiden would be more cautious in how they used their power.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, with a touch of amusement in her tone. She paused for a moment, and there was a little less amusement in her voice as she went on, “You were … showing off rather a lot.”

“I could make a remark about the pot and the girl who casually shot my opponent’s weapon out of her hand,” Sunset declared, “but I’ll take your remark in the spirit that it was intended and say … well, she started it.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose.

“What? I couldn’t just let her beat me!” Sunset declared. “Magic is … it’s my thing. I wasn’t going to let Trixie think that she was stronger than I was, better at the arcane arts. I had to stand up for myself, even if it meant … pushing the boundaries more than I had intended at the beginning of the tournament.” She paused. “And, you know, I’ve gotten away with it so far, so I shall probably, hopefully, continue to do so.”

“Tyche Agathe,” Pyrrha murmured. “So, if Trixie is not a Maiden, then…”

“She said it was inherited, the same way that I came by my magic,” Sunset said. “Perhaps Twilight is right, or more than right; perhaps magic is more common in the world that anyone realises.”

“If it was that common, then surely it would have been realised by now,” Pyrrha replied.

“Not if it was being hidden.”

“Professor Ozpin and his predecessors might hide four Maidens, but he is evidently not hiding Trixie,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Nor could they hide a larger group.”

“True enough,” Sunset admitted. “Perhaps … perhaps it died out. Perhaps Salem hunted down the magic users because they were a threat—”

“If that is so,” Pyrrha said, “do you think that she might be in danger?”

“More than any other huntress?” Sunset asked. “Who can say? I cannot, except to say that if she is in danger, then she is probably as safe amongst her comrades as anywhere else that she might go or be.” She paused. “Honestly, I don’t know how Trixie came by magic, I don’t know how many others might have it, or why it isn’t more common; that is … an interesting thing to ponder, perhaps, but I fear that it would be a very philosophical pondering, with the answer never truly known. But as for Trixie herself, she has magic, but an imperfect control over it; I might be able to help her with that, and so, I would like to do so.”

“Yes, I suppose you would,” Pyrrha agreed. “And if that is what she wants, then, I suppose, I hope that you are able to help her. Although … whether she will still want it afterwards when the consequences come calling is something else altogether.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sunset said. “Trixie would love to be famous.” She paused. “So, how do you feel about the one-on-ones?”

“We’ve only just finished our two-on-two match,” Pyrrha pointed out. “There are seven more battles yet to come.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “But still … how do you feel about the one-on-one round?”

Pyrrha paused for a moment. “Weiss concerns me. She and Blake are the two in our year that I think would trouble me the most.”

“You seemed to do more than well enough against Starlight with Blake’s semblance,” Sunset pointed out.

“True, but Blake is more experienced with her own semblance, naturally,” Pyrrha replied, “and while Blake is a better, more ferocious fighter than Weiss, Weiss’ semblance is extraordinary, and extraordinarily versatile.” She paused for a moment. “Moreso than your magic, I must say.”

“Must you?” Sunset asked. She snorted. “Well, you’re right about that, I have to admit.” She paused. “But we did alright out there, didn’t we?”

“I should say so, yes,” Pyrrha agreed, a smile playing across her face. “What will you do now?”

“I’m going to watch Weiss’ match against Team Sabre,” Sunset said. “Weiss and Flash. Will you join me, as you did for her four-on-four?”

“I would,” Pyrrha said. “As you say, I did before, but that … well, that was before. As much as I would like to show respect to Weiss, in the circumstances, I feel as though I should return to Amber. We don’t want to impose on Yang for too long, do we?”

Sunset chuckled. “No, I suppose not. Okay, well you do that — and you’ll probably take Jaune and Ruby with you; I don’t suppose that either of them will want to see Weiss in action either — and then when you come back up to watch Arslan, I can go down and look after Amber for a little bit. Maybe Penny can watch her while we’re watching Rainbow and Ciel.”

“You don’t think that she’ll want to watch her teammates?” Pyrrha asked.

“I don’t know,” Sunset said. “Will she?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I … don’t know,” she admitted. “Perhaps she wouldn’t. I suppose we can ask her. In any case, you’re right about the rest; I will go down now, and then we can switch places later. But first,” she added, “we should—”

“PYRRHA!”

Sunset and Pyrrha both looked up; they were approaching the tunnel now, the egress that would lead them off the battlefield and under the stands, but it was the stands that now drew their attention, as Arslan stood directly above the tunnel, surrounded by her own team and a great many other Haven students — possibly the entire body of Haven students that were still competing in or had been eliminated from the tournament; Sunset couldn’t have put names to all the faces, but she could tell that there were a lot of them up there — and all of them looking down at Pyrrha.

Medea put one hand to her lips and blew a kiss. “Thank you for starting us off in style, Lady Pyrrha.”

“Good job, P-money!” Arslan cried. She raised one fist in the air. “Thirty years!”

“Never stop believing!” the Haven students chorused, raising their hands in the air before breaking out in a chorus of whoops and cheers.

“You are too kind,” Pyrrha said, joining her hands around Sunset’s arm. “This was a doubles match, and the victory belongs to both of us.”

True, of course, but maybe not worth making a point to your own supporters about, Pyrrha, Sunset thought. Not that I don’t appreciate it, obviously.

There was a moment of silence. A smile crossed Medea’s painted lips. “Of course. Of course. The victory belongs not only to our Pride of Mistral, but to … the bearer of Soteria also. And if she who carries the black sword into battle cannot be regarded as a sort of honorary Mistralian, then, really, who can?”

“A Haven student?” suggested Arslan’s teammate Reese Chloris.

“Shhh,” Arslan hissed.

“The Evenstar and the Swordbearer,” said one of the Haven students, a young man whom Sunset should probably have recognized from seeing his — ah, yes, she did recognise him, it had just taken her a second: he was Cicero Ward the Younger, one of Rainbow and Ciel’s opponents in their two-on-two.

“I mean, we could just call them Pyrrha and Sunset,” Arslan muttered, but nobody marked her.

“The Evenstar and the Swordbearer,” Medea declared. “You have lit a torch for the rest of us to follow.”

Another huntress, a blonde-haired young woman with what looked from this distance to be prosthetic hands, began to sign something, her hands and fingers moving deftly, making shapes that Sunset could not discern — she had never learned sign language.

Jason of Team JAMM made a sound that was a sort of wince combined with a slight laugh. “Yes, Lavinia, we do remember that we lost our match and so shall not be following anywhere.” He sighed. “We remember it very well indeed, believe you me. What Medea meant was that … a torch has been lit for those of you who were lucky enough to be victorious in your matches. Arslan and Bolin, Lavinia and Lucius, Cicero and Lily, Sun and—”

“They aren’t here,” Scarlet grumbled.

“Of course he isn’t,” muttered Atalanta.

“He isn’t one of us,” Scarlet said. “And Neptune is corrupted by his influence.”

“Whatever the case,” Jason said, raising his voice a little, “he and Neptune carry a share of our hopes, as do the rest of you. As does the Evenstar.”

“Yes, well…” Pyrrha murmured. She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. “Jewels remain.”

“Still gleaming!” the Haven students cried, before breaking into a round of applause.

Pyrrha smiled, a forced smile, a public smile, a smile that remained on her face until she and Sunset had walked into the tunnel and were out of sight and then disappeared immediately thereafter.

“You handled that reasonably, for something that you didn’t enjoy,” Sunset remarked.

“I may not particularly want to be a symbol of Mistralian prowess, but I understand what is required in that role,” Pyrrha said. “What concerns me more is what they had to say about Sun.”

“I mean … they’re not wrong, are they?” Sunset asked. “He isn’t one of them, as proven by the fact that he’s leaving to move to Mantle and become a vigilante at the end of the year.”

“I … suppose,” Pyrrha conceded. “But did they have to say it like that? And with him … would they have spoken so about a human, do you think?”

“There was a faunus up there with them, at least one that I saw,” Sunset said. “Atalanta, of Team Jasmine. But they’re your people, not mine; do you think they dislike him because they’re racist or because…” — she shuffled her feet for a moment — “or because he’s a flake where anyone not named Blake is concerned?”

Pyrrha frowned. “I think … I think it is not unfair to my people to say that it is probably a little of both. I suppose I can see why his behaviour might draw ire—”

“I seem to recall that you had some ire for me when I did something similar,” Sunset said mildly.

“And you deserved it,” Pyrrha said. “Which means that Sun may also, but at the same time, I am not sure … I think, but cannot prove, that it would be more tolerated from a human, certainly from a human of good family.”

“And yet,” Sunset replied, “I am the Swordbearer.”

“I didn’t say my home was a cesspit of bigotry,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Only that it didn’t help.” A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “But yes, you have an epithet. And you are an honorary Mistralian, at least in the eyes of some. How does that feel?”

“I’m trying to decide if I like it more or less than the people dressed up as me in their leather jackets,” Sunset replied, grinning. “I think … it’s not quite as good.”

Pyrrha chuckled, covering her mouth as she laughed. “I’m very happy for you,” she said, “truly.”

“Hey, you two!” Ruby called out to them as she and Jaune approached them down the corridor. “Congratulations!”

“Yeah, you did great out there,” Jaune added. As he approached Pyrrha, he reached out to her, one hand gently brushing down her arm, lingering for half a moment upon the strip of gold silk tied above her elbow, before he took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her.

“Although,” Ruby went on, her eyes on Sunset, “did you really have to—?”

“Use so much magic out there?” Sunset guessed.

“I thought you were going to hold back,” Ruby pointed out, “at least a little.”

“I was,” Sunset admitted. “But honour was at stake.”

“Because Trixie…” Ruby trailed off. “That wasn’t her semblance, was it?”

“I’m pretty sure that Trixie’s semblance is the illusions she used to throw me off a couple of times,” Sunset replied. “That … was magic. As I was saying to Pyrrha, I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s there.”

“So … is that just a thing now?” Jaune asked. “Magic is just … out there?”

“It already was,” Sunset pointed out. “The Maidens, Ruby’s silver eyes—”

“Okay, but there are only four Maidens, and the only people with silver eyes we’ve heard of are Ruby and her mom,” Jaune replied.

“Only because I don’t know the rest of my mom’s family,” Ruby pointed out. “Mom left her home beyond the kingdoms to come to Beacon, and she had a father who didn’t want her to go … I might have all kinds of silver-eyed relatives on the other side of the mountains.” Ruby paused, her head dropping a little. “I could have all kinds of relatives on the other side of the mountains. Mom’s relatives, a whole other side of the family.”

“Would … would you like to find out, for certain?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah,” Ruby said at once. “Yeah, I would, but … like … you mean, like, go there?”

“It is only on the other side of the mountains,” Pyrrha said.

“'Only'?” Jaune repeated. “You say that as though they aren’t pretty big mountains, and a big country on the other side. I think the east of Sanus might be bigger than Vale is.”

“It is not so large,” Pyrrha said. “Anima is bigger by some distance.”

“Anima is civilised,” Sunset pointed out. “It has airships and railways linking its towns and cities together. Does the east of Sanus even have towns? Or roads? Or anything but wild men in their reed huts?”

“My mom didn’t live in a reed hut, Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully. “People who live outside the kingdoms are … well, they’re outside the kingdoms; that doesn’t make them primitive. Although it might make them hard to find.”

“Yet that is no reason not to try,” Pyrrha said. “Didn’t you say that Professor Ozpin uses traders who brave the wilds to spread word about Beacon and try to lure the brave and the bold like your mother to Vale and Beacon?”

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “'Lure' makes it sound like he’s doing something wrong,” she pointed out.

Pyrrha folded her arms, shifting slightly uncomfortably in place, her red sash swaying back and forth by the movement of her hips. “Well,” she murmured. “One could say that … but leave that for the moment, or I fear that we shall wander very far off topic. What I was going to say is that there is no reason you could not accompany a caravan — I’m sure they would be glad of the protection; in Mistral, no caravan feels safe without at least one huntsman to protect it — and they will know either where the main gathering places for the population are, or else the people of the beyond will come to them; I cannot believe they simply wander around a wilderness looking for people; surely, that would be no way to turn a profit?”

Ruby giggled a little. “Yeah, that would be kinda stupid, wouldn’t it? What you say makes a lot more sense. That … I mean, I’m not a huntress yet, but I do know how to shoot and kill grimm, so maybe … what do you think Dad would say? Do you think Professor Ozpin would let me go?”

“If you were to go during next spring vacation and not ask for time off from school, then I don’t see what business it would be of Professor Ozpin’s,” Pyrrha said, with a touch of the tart entering into her normally sweet voice.

“We are somewhat at his service, are we not?” Sunset pointed out. “Ruby, are you considering this?”

“I mean … I wasn’t, until a few seconds ago,” Ruby said, “but now … yeah. Why not? If Mom has relatives out there, why shouldn’t I want to meet them? Why shouldn’t I get to meet them?”

“Fair enough,” Sunset conceded. “And, although we are at Professor Ozpin’s service, we are his retainers, not his slaves, and thus entitled to a little bit of time off, and why not during vacation? But even so … it’s a big country, and a wild country, and far away. I accept that the people who live there might not deserve to have me turn my nose up at them, but nevertheless … places established outside the kingdoms have a lower survival rate than attempts to expand the kingdoms, at least it seems that way.” She looked away. Don’t be down on this, if it’s what she wants. “Will you at least ask Yang to come with you? She might even want to meet your mother’s side of the family herself.”

“Well,” Ruby said, “I mean, yeah, I will, but … I was thinking … would you three mind coming with me?” She smiled slightly. “I can’t promise a big fancy house to stay in once we get … wherever, but it would be cool to share … I mean, I know it isn’t really my culture, but it kind of is my culture because it was my mom’s culture and so that means that I have a right to it, don’t I?”

“I think so, yeah,” Jaune agreed.

“An indelible right,” Pyrrha said. “And we would be delighted to accompany you, if you would have us. Wouldn’t we, Sunset?” she added, looking Sunset in the eye.

Alright, alright, Pyrrha! “Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, we certainly would. A road trip into Darkest Sanus, won’t that be fun?”

Dirt and bugs and cold hard ground to sleep on. It’s the life of a huntress, I suppose.

Dirt and bugs and cold hard ground to sleep on and answers for Ruby.

“I … really mean that, even if you think I don’t,” Sunset said. “If this is what you want, and you want us to do it with you, then we’ll be right there. And you’re right, it is your culture.” She smiled. “Live in as many mud huts as you want to.”

“Sunset!”

“I’m kidding!” Sunset assured her. “We shall all go into the east together, and I shall refrain from being snooty or superior to anyone. I’ll try, anyway.”

“Try hard, please,” Ruby said, before the smile returned to her face. “This is going to be terrific; who knows who or what we might find out there, other silver-eyed warriors, or just other Roses, maybe my grandfather is still alive, maybe I’ve got cousins, or … do you think they’ll hold a grudge that my mom left home and went to Beacon even though they didn’t want her to?”

“How should we know?” Jaune asked. “We won’t know unless you meet them. And if you meet them, and they don’t want to know you, then that’s their loss, and we can come back home again, but if you stay away because you’re afraid of how they’ll react, of how they think about your mom … it might feel better than taking the risk, but I think, in the end, you’ll regret that you didn’t take the chance while you had it.”

“You … you’re probably right,” Ruby murmured. “You are right,” she said, louder and more firmly. “Thanks, Jaune, I needed to hear that.” The smile slipped off her face. “Wait, no, we can’t go next spring because we promised Amber that we’d take her to Mistral, didn’t we?”

“What we said,” Sunset said, “what Pyrrha guaranteed, is that we would take Amber to visit Mistral and Atlas before she had to go into hiding, but that can’t happen because she’s going into a sort of hiding with you and Yang and your father in just a couple of days' time, and we can’t go to Mistral or Atlas, let alone both, before that. We will just have to hope that Professor Ozpin lets us stay in touch with Amber and that we can take her out in…” Sunset paused. They had promised Amber first, but on the other hand, having decided that they would all make this trip eastwards to see if any of Ruby’s line yet dwelt in the untamed wilderness, it would be as well not to put that off either, lest Ruby start to think that they — or Sunset, at least — were backsliding on their commitment. “No, I’ve got it, what if … what if the next break Amber goes to visit Atlas with Ciel — she seems to get on well with Ciel — and Blake; and maybe Penny could go with her as well—”

“Unless Penny would like to come with us,” Pyrrha said.

“Where is Penny?” Ruby asked. “She was right behind us when Jaune and I left to come down here and congratulate—”

“You could have waited for me!” Penny cried out plaintively as she ran down the corridor, her footsteps heavy upon the metal floor. She dashed past Ruby and Jaune to grab both Sunset and Pyrrha, enveloping them both around the waist, squeezing them so hard that Sunset winced in pain.

And the only reason that it was only a wince was because all the air to do anything else had been driven out.

“Well done, you two!” Penny cried. “That was so much fun to watch!”

Pyrrha managed a weak laugh as she patted Penny on the shoulder. “We’re very happy we could oblige, Penny.”

“What took you so long, Penny?” Ruby asked. “I thought you were going to follow us.”

“I did!” Penny declared, releasing Sunset and Pyrrha, if only so that she could put her hands on her hips while she glared — as much as it was possible for Penny to glare, anyway — at Ruby. “But I got stuck behind a whole crowd of people all pouring out of the stands, and I couldn’t get through them, and you two didn’t even notice!”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Sorry, Penny. I guess we just assumed that you were behind us. You’re right, we should have made sure.”

“It’s okay,” Penny said. “You wanted to congratulate Pyrrha and Sunset. But what were you talking about when I got here?”

“I’m going over the mountains to find my long-lost relatives in the uncolonised east!” Ruby squealed.

“And we’re all going with her,” Jaune added.

“Really?” Penny cried. “That sounds so cool and exciting! When are you going, can I come with you, what’s it like out there?”

“We have no idea, that’s one of the reasons I’m going,” Ruby said. “And of course you can come with us. Although that means that you won’t be able to go to Atlas with Amber, if Sunset’s plans work out.”

“Amber won’t be coming with us?” Penny asked.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, even if the notion didn’t make Professor Ozpin keel over and die from a heart attack,” Sunset muttered. “It’s one thing to take Amber to a civilised city, a safe haven of humanity as Professor Port would have it, but it’s quite something else to take her into the middle of somewhere with no help for miles around, where anyone could come upon us. We can take that risk, but we can’t take it with Amber. No, it’s best if she goes to Atlas while we’re out traipsing through the wilds, and then in summer break, we can take her to Mistral. Assuming, of course, that Professor Ozpin lets her out.”

“It shouldn’t be Professor Ozpin’s choice,” Pyrrha said, “but Amber’s. We should demand the right to stay in touch with her. I am sure that she would like to hear from us, especially if the alternative is complete and utter isolation from the wider world.”

“But what if Salem’s people trace our calls and find out where she is?” asked Ruby.

“There must be some way to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Sunset replied. “Like encrypting calls or something; the Atlesian military must have something. I’ll talk to Twilight about it.”

“The next match, between Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon and Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas, will begin in ten minutes!” Professor Port declared.

“But not right now,” Sunset added, “because I really want to see this fight. I know that Pyrrha doesn’t want to join me, but do any of the rest of you feel like watching Weiss and Flash win?”

“Not really,” Ruby said.

“I was going to go and check on Amber,” Pyrrha said. “As I said to Sunset, we should take the burden off Yang as soon as possible.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” said Ruby. “And we can ask Yang about coming on the trip east while we’re there!”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “Although, before we descend back down to Beacon, I should probably call on my mother.”

“I hope I didn’t let you down out there,” Starlight said as she and Trixie walked across the arena towards the exit. “I know you were counting on me taking out Pyrrha in order to snatch the win.”

“Starlight,” Trixie declared as she reached across Starlight to put a hand on her far shoulder. “It isn’t possible for you to let me down.”

Starlight looked at her.

“What?” Trixie asked. “Trixie is being serious. You couldn’t let me down. Or at least you’d have to work very, very hard.”

“You don’t seem very disappointed,” Starlight said.

“Well, I’m glad that it comes across that way,” said Trixie.

Starlight shook her head as she reciprocated Trixie’s gesture, draping her arm across Trixie’s shoulders. “You can be upset, you know, if you want to be.”

“Trrrixie is not upset!” Trixie insisted. “Trixie admits that she is a little disappointed that we couldn’t bring home a win for Atlas at the start of the day and make the General proud, and she is a little concerned that Rainbow Dash and Blake and all our classmates are going to be disappointed with us, and Trixie is a little disappointed with herself too for the fact that she wasn’t quite Great and Powerful enough when it counted—”

“So not upset at all, then?”

“But,” Trixie went on, “I am also aware…” She smiled, a small smile but noticeable. “You won’t take it personally if Trixie is kind of thrilled about what she did with her magic today, will you?”

Starlight laughed. “Not at all,” she said. “Not at all.”

The two of them fell silent for a moment as they listened to the cheering and the singing of the crowd.

“Some of them are still cheering for us, right?” Trixie asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Starlight agreed. “Totally.”

Trixie didn’t care if Starlight was actually right or not; what mattered was that they could both believe it, even if it was just pretend.

And so, even if they were pretending, they both continued to march towards the exit, with the cheers of their fans ringing in their ears.

“Hey, Starlight,” Trixie said, “Sunset agreed to help Trixie become even grrrrrreater and more powerrrrful by mastering her magic!”

“Really?” Starlight asked. “She can do that?”

“Apparently,” Trixie said. “Maybe, anyway. Won’t that be awesome? Think of all the things that Trixie will be able to do, the battles that Trixie will be able to fight, the glllory that Trrrrixie will be able to win! Think of all the people that Trixie will be able to help with all their monster problems.”

“Just think, you might become so great and powerful that you won’t need a team anymore.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Starlight,” Trixie declared. “The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrrixie will always need her glamourous assistant and her humble researcher.” She paused. “We could maybe do without Tempest, though.”

“Trixie!” Starlight said reproachfully.

“Well, after all the snide, smarmy, and disrespectful remarks that Tempest has made about Trixie, it would serve her right if I did punt her from the team, and right out of the academy,” Trixie said. “She wouldn’t be smirking then, would she?”

Starlight didn’t reply to that as the two of them reached the mouth of the corridor and passed beneath it, out of sight of the spectators in the stands. Despite the sudden shade — what was up with the lights down here? — it was still possible to make out Sunburst, Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Maud Pie, and Blake waiting for them down there in the tunnel.

Surprisingly, none of them looked too disappointed.

Actually, no, that wasn’t really very surprising, was it? They were just those sorts of people, after all; the idea of being disappointed wouldn't really register with them.

Except for Dash, maybe, but she was nice enough not to show it.

Twilight took a step towards them, clasping her hands together over her heart. “Starlight, Trixie … we’re so sorry.”

“Thanks, Twi, but we’re okay,” Starlight said. “Really.”

“Really?” Rainbow asked.

“Well … mostly really,” Starlight corrected herself. “We’re not…”

“We’re not falling to pieces over it,” Trixie said. “But thank you anyway, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Abrasion,” Maud said, “is the process by which two rocky surfaces rub against one another. When that happens, the softer rock will be rubbed away more than the harder rock. That’s a natural law. But it doesn’t mean that the rock which was worn away isn’t a perfectly good rock.”

In different circumstances, Trixie might not have liked being compared to a soft rock very much, but in the circumstances, she said, “Thank you, Maud. Trixie supposes that in the right, or wrong, circumstances, even shining diamonds can be cut.” She paused. “Can sapphires cut diamonds?”

“Apparently, yes,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Thanks for your semblance out there, Blake,” Starlight said. “I’m not sure I got the best use out of it, but it definitely felt as though it kept me in the fight.”

“You could have used dust more with the clones,” Blake said. “But, honestly, I think your real mistake was that Starlight would have been better off facing Sunset, and Trixie going up against Pyrrha. No offence, but … the fact that you had to use my clones so much in the forest shows that there was a skill difference between you and Pyrrha when it came to close combat; Trixie might have been able to keep her at a distance.”

“I don’t know, she’s pretty quick on her feet,” Trixie said. “And besides, Trixie will never apologise for having faith in Starlight.”

“More to the point,” Rainbow said, “what was with all of the … what was that you were doing?”

“Magic, obviously,” Trixie said.

“Really?” Twilight gasped.

“Magic,” Maud repeated. “Magic doesn’t—”

“Magic does exist,” Twilight said. “I just didn’t … I mean—”

“You didn’t believe the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrixie when she told you that Trrrrixie had magical powers?!” Trixie demanded, putting her free hand on her hip. “You’ve seen Trrrrrixie teleporting! You’ve seen Trixie produce a child’s lost cat out of Trixie’s hat!”

“Actually, Blake saw that; Twilight was fixing the relay tower,” Starlight reminded her.

“You saw Trixie do magic and you didn’t tell me?” Twilight demanded as she turned to Blake.

Blake shrugged. “I … didn’t think about it. A grenade blew up in my face and drove the thoughts out of my mind.”

“Right,” Twilight winced. “Sorry.” She returned her attention to Trixie. “So you really do have magical powers, since when?”

“Since forever!” Trixie shouted, her voice echoing off the corridor walls. “Trixie is always telling you all so!”

“Yeah, but then when you try to demonstrate it,” Rainbow said. “It … doesn’t often work.”

Trixie opened her mouth to refute that, but found to her a-little-more-than-mild irritation she couldn’t. Her magical powers, great and powerful though they were, had an incredibly annoying habit of not working on command.

“Unfortunately, you have a point,” Trixie admitted through gritted teeth. “But that is what Sunset has offered to help me with.”

“Really?” Rainbow said. “Awesome, if she thinks she can.”

“I know, it is awesome.”

“Perhaps,” Blake murmured. “Aren’t you a little worried about the attention that you might receive if you start using magic all the time?”

Trixie stared at Blake in astonishment. Rainbow didn’t, but then, Rainbow had had a lot longer to get used to Blake’s eccentricities.

“Why would Trrrrixie be worried about that?” Trixie asked. “Being famous is amazing! If you don’t like it, Trixie will gladly serve as the subject for your TV show.” She grinned. “Trixie imagines that Jetsam Ackles would play her rather well.”

“That’s not really the point,” Blake said. “The point is that … the point is that nobody thinks that magic exists at the moment, or at least, not many people do,” she corrected herself, with a glance at Twilight. “If it comes out that it does, and that you have it—”

“Then Trixie will be the centre of attention, and she’ll deserve it,” Rainbow said. “It’s nobody else’s business but hers; there’s no reason why it should affect anyone else, right?”

Well, you two have something going on, Trixie thought. Of course, they’d all known that for a while now, ever since that Mountain Glenn operation that Team TTSS had been dragged in on and which they had never bothered to properly explain, but it was clear that whatever it was hadn’t ended at Mountain Glenn, or they wouldn’t have needed to act like this over … whatever it was.

Did they know something about magic? Something that made Blake think it was a bad idea for Trixie to use hers openly because … because of the other magical people that they might know? People who didn’t want it to be found out that they had magic? Well, that was their choice, Trixie supposed, even if she couldn’t understand it one bit; who wouldn’t want to be known and celebrated for all their stupendous talents and monumental powers? But, if they were so stupid as to want to hide their lights under a bushel, then Trixie supposed that they were allowed to do so.

What they weren’t allowed to do, what nobody was allowed to do, was tell Trixie that she wasn’t able to shine as brightly as she possibly could.

And the idea that she ought to … Blake might want to come to Atlas, but she clearly had a lot to learn if she thought that humility had any place in the city in the clouds.

Up in the north, you didn’t hold back or hide what you were capable of, and Rainbow ought to make that clear to her if she hadn’t already.

“Uh, no,” Blake said, “no, of course not, Trixie’s the only one who matters here.”

“Trixie and her magic,” Twilight said. “Can I run a few tests on you? How does it feel to have magic inside of you? Can you feel it? How do you … use it?”

“Hey, Twi, come on, can’t all of that kind of thing wait until after the tournament is over?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight laughed a little bit as she scratched the back of her head. “Yeah, right, of course,” she said. “I mean, apart from anything else, we don’t want to miss Weiss’ fight, do we?”

"Pow!" Diana cried as she cradled an invisible gun in her hands and mimed Pyrrha shooting the wand out of Trixie's hand. That had been an awesome shot, Pyrrha was so cool!

"I guess your dad won't be very happy," Saphron said, bouncing Adrian gently up and down on her lap as she looked over at Terra.

"No, he won't," Terra replied. "Mom will, though."

"And so will Jaune, and the rest of the family," Saphron said. "So I'm afraid your dad is just going to have to live with it."

"Don't worry, I don't have a lot of sympathy for him on this one," Terra replied. "After all, Mom's been living with the disappointment of Haven's poor performance for years; now, he can do the same for once."

"Perhaps," Saphron said. "Atlas still has three more matches to go."

"Yes, there's that too," Terra agreed. "But in the meantime," — she leaned forward and smiled at Adrian — "Auntie Pyrrha just notched up another victory."

Saphron's eyebrows rose. "I thought you didn't like that."

"I'm still not sure that I do," Terra replied. "But then I thought about how my mom would react if I had Pyrrha Nikos as my sister-in-law, and you know, the thought of her screeching … is quite terrifying, actually, but I guess I'll have to get used to it."

Saphron giggled. "How will she react to having a princess of the old blood in the family?"

"Oh, Pyrrha has no idea what she's letting herself in for, poor thing," Terra lamented. "I hope Jaune's worth it. No offence."

"That's not really the point, is it?" Saphron replied. "It doesn't matter what he's worth, only what she thinks he's worth."

"Oof," Juturna winced. "Rough luck for Lausus, huh?"

"He brought it on himself," Turnus said. "But I will shield him from at least some of the consequences nevertheless." He shook his head. "To bet against the Champion of Mistral. I understand that the odds were good, but nevertheless … madness."

"Do you think that Pyrrha's semblance could be something like mind control? You notice how whenever an opponent seems like they might be able to match her, they start to go off their game?"

"Her semblance is clearly telekinesis," Camilla said. "It explains her performance in the duel with Cinder Fall perfectly. She manipulates the objects around her. It is an enviable skill. What you refer to, Juturna, is that her enemies are so dazzled by her reputation that their nerve fails them at the moment of crisis."

Turnus looked at her over Juturna's head. "You think it's all morale?"

"Is it not, my lord?" Camilla asked. "Is the battle not decided as much by how much one side believes they can win, as by skill or the quality of their weapons. It was the same with Trixie Lulamoon: she lost her nerve, and so, she was undone."

"She was undone because Sunset has cool powers," Juturna said. "Why is it that some people get semblances like that, and I can turn into a mist cloud?"

"It is all random chance," Camilla said softly.

"That is not what all say," Turnus replied.

"I know, my lord, and I know what others say," Camilla said. "However, the idea that our semblances reflect our essences, and that we may be thus judged by the quality, the usefulness, the versatility of our semblances, and that people may, by our semblances, claim to know us as people … to speak frankly, my lord, I find the idea almost too dire to contemplate."

The fabric of Pyrrha’s sash brushed lightly against the patch of bare skin between her microskirt and her stockings as she climbed the steps up to her mother’s box. Her footsteps rang upon the metal steps, just as Sunset’s steps did as she followed behind her.

As yesterday, Hestia was waiting at the entrance to the box, maintaining her mother’s privacy in the absence of any other, greater service that she could provide.

She curtsied to Pyrrha. “Good morning, young m’lady, and congratulations upon your victory.”

“Good morning, Hestia, and thank you,” she said. “I hope you slept well.”

“Well enough, young m’lady, and thank you for asking,” Hestia said. “I fear … well, that’s for my lady to tell you, I’m sure. I won’t keep you any longer.”

“It is Pyrrha without, I take it, Hestia?” Mother called.

“Yes, m’lady, and young Miss Shimmer too,” Hestia replied.

“I should hope so,” Mother muttered. “Then pray, do not stand upon the threshold, both of you, enter, enter!”

As Hestia stepped aside, Pyrrha led the way in, with Sunset just a step behind her. Mother rose from her seat more quickly than she had done yesterday, perhaps because she had not been sitting so long, and so, there had not been the time for her leg to go stiff. In any case, she rose quickly enough and seemed to lean upon her cane less.

“Good morning, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “How do you feel?”

“I slept poorly,” Mother complained, “but my leg felt better after an absence of sleep, for it does not trouble me now. Or perhaps I am simply invigorated by a victory. Come.” She stepped forward and placed a hand on Pyrrha’s face; her skin felt wrinkled where it touched Pyrrha’s smooth cheek, but it also felt strong nevertheless. Her lips, as she kissed Pyrrha first upon the right cheek and then the left — moving her hand aside — were dry, despite the fact that refreshments were on offer.

“Another victory,” Mother said. “Another obstacle surmounted, another step towards greatness taken.”

“Yes, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “I hope that I performed satisfactorily in your eyes.”

“You had to use your semblance,” Mother said. “Did you not?”

“Yes, I did,” Pyrrha replied. “Starlight was quite skilled; she gave me little choice.”

“I do not fault you for it; that’s what it’s there for,” Mother replied. “But I know that you dislike using it.”

“As I said, Mother, I had little choice,” Pyrrha repeated.

“There is no shame in it; that is why I had you practise using your semblance in such a way,” Mother reminded her. “As for my satisfaction: you did well. You faced a skilled opponent, and you overcame her, in spite of her own semblance — or rather, the semblance that she had borrowed from this Blake Belladonna, the Princess of Menagerie.”

“The warrior princess, my lady,” Sunset said, with a slight trace of a smile. She cleared her throat and curtsied. “Forgive me, my lady, I should have bid you good morrow.”

“I did not say aught to you, Miss Shimmer, when I ought to have, so there is nothing to apologise for,” Mother replied. “And yes, you are quite right, she is the Warrior Princess of Menagerie. I must confess I find that I regret that your paths will not cross in this tournament. It would have been quite a spectacle in the eyes of the public, and if she is skilled with her semblance, then it would have been quite a match for those of us who can appreciate the martial art, also.”

“I, too, regret it, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “Although I am also relieved; she would have run me a close race, I have no doubt, for in addition to her semblance, Blake is most fierce, valiant, bold, and skilful besides. I … would not be overconfident against her.”

“You make disappointment war with relief in my heart,” Mother said dryly, so dryly it was impossible for Pyrrha to tell if she was being sincere or not. “In any case, you have done well and triumphed again, and now, the solo battles are before you.” She paused for a moment. “That was a very pretty light show, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset coughed into one hand. “Aha, yes, my lady.”

“In all earnestness,” Mother said, “thank you for your contribution; you should feel proud and leave the tournament with your head held high.”

Sunset bowed the head that she had just been instructed to hold high. “I will, my lady, and thank you.”

"Mother," Pyrrha said, and yet after saying it she paused for a moment, mulling over the words. Eventually, she decided that to be direct was probably the best course, and so, she went on, "Phoebe Kommenos is dead."

Mother's eyebrows rose. "'Dead'? How?"

"Murdered, my lady," Sunset said softly. "In Vale, last night." She did not mention that they were reasonably sure of the murderer.

"I … see," Mother said, in equally soft tones, although what, precisely, she saw remained unspoken. "How do you know of this?"

"One of Team Pastel … accused Pyrrha of the deed," Sunset said.

"He was mad with grief," Pyrrha explained. "He meant no ill."

"'Meant no ill'? By accusing you of base murder?" Mother demanded.

"The matter was resolved, my lady, have no fear," Sunset said. "The Haven students were a great help; they came to the aid of Pyrrha and of her reputation, and with their help … the student in question withdrew his allegations and his person."

"I see," Mother muttered. "Nevertheless, I am minded to ask you to challenge him on Pyrrha's behalf, Miss Shimmer."

"I'd much rather you didn't, Mother," Pyrrha said quickly. "And Sunset, I would rather you didn't do it, even if you are asked."

Sunset licked her lips, her tail twitching a little between her legs. "My lady … my gratitude towards you notwithstanding … my first loyalty and devotion are to Pyrrha; therefore, I must beseech you not to put me in a position where I must, with all due sorrow and regret, refuse you."

"Fear not, Miss Shimmer; your loyalty is where it should be," Mother said, with a slight quirk of her lips. "Nevertheless, I am concerned by what may come of this? Where one student goes, the police may follow, however patently ridiculous it is that you should be involved. In my legal affairs, I am advised by the firm of Ward, Atticus, and Crane, who have an office in Vale as well as in Mistral. I will supply you their contact details. If anything comes of this, then contact them, and they will clean up the mess."

"We will, my lady," said Sunset.

Mother nodded. "So," she said, "so ends the House of Kommenos. So dies the history they made, so dies the virtue in their blood. I grieve for Mistral, but not for Phoebe Kommenos, as I did not grieve her mother. Pyrrha, let this not distract you, not for one second. Immortal glory lies before you; think only on that."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Yes, Mother."

General Ironwood was standing in the centre of the bridge of the Valiant, a hive of activity bustling around him, when he heard the door slide open behind him. He heard footsteps on the floor approaching, but he did not turn around.

"Sir," Schnee said, her voice crisp and clear.

"How did it go, Schnee?" asked Ironwood.

Schnee's voice held a little displeasure in it as she said, "Lulamoon and Glimmer … were defeated, sir."

Ironwood's jaw tightened for a moment. "That's unfortunate," he said. "I hope that they aren't taking it too hard." Lulamoon in particular could be a little … highly strung at times; he hoped that she didn't allow this defeat to deflate her. It was, after all, only a tournament; prestige might be at stake, but lives weren't on the line. Nobody would die because she and Glimmer had been overcome. He would try and find some time to check in on them later. "How was the match?"

"They fought hard, sir," Schnee informed him. "Lulamoon displayed some … interesting abilities."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," Schnee said. "I'm not entirely sure how to describe it."

"You intrigue me, Schnee," Ironwood said. "I might have to review the footage later."

"You don't seem very disappointed, sir," Schnee observed.

"Any loss is disappointing, Schnee, but of all the losses we could have, tournament losses are hardly the kind to get upset about," Ironwood replied. "And besides, with no disrespect to Lulamoon or Glimmer, they were up against it from the start. The fact is, Schnee, that Atlas got unlucky at the match selections last night." Against different opponents — against the Shade teams, or the Haven teams, against most of the other teams, to be honest — he would have expected Lulamoon to progress to the final round. "Not only Lulamoon and Glimmer being pitched against Miss Nikos and Miss Shimmer, but Silverband and Kerak going up against your sister and Mister Sentry next." Silverband and Kerak appeared to be as confident as the stunt they had planned was — in Ironwood's opinion — unwise, but Ironwood … well, he knew how capable a Schnee could be, and that family semblance of their was quite something.

He wasn't entirely discounting Silverband and Kerak — gods knew that they were motivated enough for this upcoming match — but he was putting most of his hopes for Atlas in this tournament on the two pairs of Flynt and Katt and Dash and Soleil.

Of course, we would have been better placed with Penny. But that horse had well and truly bolted, and besides, of all the reasons to bemoan what had happened with Penny, the fact that she wouldn't be representing Atlas in the later stages of the tournament was very definitely a minor one.

All of his students would do their best, he had no doubt about that, just as he was certain that Lulamoon and Glimmer had done their best against capable opponents.

In any case, he had other things to worry about than Atlesian progress through the tournament.

"Des Voeux," he said, "get me Spitfire on the line."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux answered, the young lieutenant's fingers flying across the control panel in front of him. "Wonderbolt Leader, this is Valiant, do you copy?"

Spitfire's voice emerged onto the bridge. "This is Wonderbolt Leader, receiving loud and clear."

"Spitfire, this is Ironwood," Ironwood declared. "How are the grimm looking down there?"

"I've just completed my second flyover of the eastern concentration, sir," Spitfire said. "I'm certain there are more of them than there were yesterday."

"That confirms ground radar readings," Ironwood said. Reports — reports that Colonel Sky Beak was good enough to share with him, even though reading between the lines of what the colonel didn't say, it seemed that he wasn't supposed to — from Valish huntsmen stationed in the outlying towns and villages had suggested that the grimm which had been virtually besieging those areas for the last few months had begun to withdraw over the last few days, but it was more recently than that that a mixture of ground radar and aerial and ground-based surveillance had begun to pick up large numbers of grimm gathering in the vicinity of Vale itself. They were not yet at the gates of Vale — they were massing outside of artillery range of his troops on the Green Line, let alone small arms — but they were close enough to rush the gates if they so chose, or if something prodded them to do so.

They were definitely up to something. Or Salem was.

It was difficult, if not impossible, to determine when something was her doing and when the grimm were just being their natural destructive selves. There was enough bad blood in Vale, between anti-Atlesian and anti-faunus sentiments, that the grimm might have been drawn in this direction naturally.

Except grimm usually stay away from places like Vale because they know that they'll never break through the defences of a great city. Not without a breach.

Speaking of which, it was surprising — and a little alarming — that there were still so many grimm in Vale even after the losses they had taken during the Breach. No matter how many grimm they killed, more of them just sprung up out of the ground.

"Are their numbers still increasing?"

"Yes, sir," Spitfire said. "I think a lot of them are coming in at night, but I can see beowolf packs and lone ursae drifting in beneath me."

"What about aerial grimm?" asked Ironwood.

"Skies are clear, sir," Spitfire said. "But, the speed they move, I wouldn't rule out the idea of them joining the party after it gets started."

"Understood," Ironwood said. "What are they doing now?"

"From what I can see, they're just standing around, sir," Spitfire said. "Waiting, maybe. I'm not sure what they're waiting for, but they don't look to be in any hurry."

"Does it look like a horde forming to you?"

Spitfire didn't reply for a second. "I guess it could be, sir," she finally said. "I've never seen a horde form up before. I can't see an apex alpha, but they do all look pretty small from up here. But I wouldn't say that they're a horde yet; in fact, I think if we shoot them up now, then we could break them up and discourage any further concentration. Requesting permission to begin strafing runs against the target."

"Negative, Spitfire."

"Sir," Spitfire's voice was tinged with outrage. "We have a chance to take these creeps out, and nobody in Vale has to know they were even here."

"And that will be my recommendation to our Valish allies," Ironwood told her. "Continue to observe the grimm until I've spoken with General Blackthorn."

"Since when do we need Valish permission to do what has to be done, sir?" Spitfire asked.

"Since it became a condition of their hospitality, Spitfire," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

"Thank you, sir," Colonel Sky Beak said. He, like Schnee, was standing a little behind Ironwood.

Ironwood glanced at the Valish officer over his shoulder; he stood awkwardly, diffidently, out of place in his green Valish uniform amidst all of the Atlesian white on display, like one of the animals caged in Jacques Schnee's menagerie, a creature that had wandered somewhere he didn't belong.

"It's no trouble, Colonel," Ironwood said. "I've no doubt that General Blackthorn will want this dealt with quickly and see things the way that Wonderbolt Leader and I do."

"I certainly want this dealt with quickly," Sky Beak said. "The sooner the grimm are gone, the better."

Ironwood turned away from him. "Des Voeux, contact General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force; inform him that I'd like to speak to him."

"Yes, sir," des Voeux said, and once again his fingers darted nimbly over the control panel.

Unlike Spitfire, General Blackthorn did not reply at once, but eventually — after perhaps a minute had passed, as the activities of the CIC continued to occur around Ironwood in a well-practised dance — the voice of General Blackthorn filled the bridge. His tone was curt, his voice clipped. "This is Blackthorn. What do you want, General?"

"General Blackthorn," Ironwood said, "I'm contacting you about the five large and growing concentrations of grimm that we're seeing around Vale."

"Not important," Blackthorn said. "The grimm aren't making any hostile movements towards Vale."

"Not yet, General, but they could, once their numbers have swollen large enough," Ironwood said. "I would like to engage them from the air before that happens and inflict sufficient casualties to—"

"No, General," Blackthorn said. "Permission to engage is denied. Firing upon grimm who are far away and pose no danger would do more to panic the people of Vale than letting the grimm alone."

Panic again, always panic. Ironwood fought to keep his voice calm. "General Blackthorn, any panic that might be caused by our fire will be swiftly dispelled once people learn what it was we were shooting at and what the result was. With the grimm dispersed, people will soon calm down and resume watching the tournament coverage."

"That is your opinion, General; it is not mine," Blackthorn declared.

Ironwood took a deep breath. "Do you not think that you should consult with First Councillor Emerald before—?"

"I am responsible for the defence of Vale, not the First Councillor," Blackthorn declared. "General Ironwood, your forces will remain stationary and not engage the grimm, do I make myself clear?"

And what are you going to do if I don't, you obnoxious ass? Ironwood thought. If he decided to do what he thought was best, there would be little that Blackthorn or the Valish Defence Force could do to stop him, but if he did what he wanted, it would provoke an almighty row between Vale and Atlas, and that wasn't something he wanted. And so, though he had to force the words out somewhat, he said, "Understood, General."

"Excellent," Blackthorn said. "Blackthorn out."

Ironwood tightened his grip on his hands as he clasped them behind his back.

"I'm as confused as you, General Ironwood," Colonel Sky Beak said. "I don't understand why Blackthorn would take such a cavalier attitude towards grimm concentrations so close to Vale. It hardly seems like the man I knew."

"Rank and additional responsibility can change a man," Ironwood said. "Regardless of what happened, we have to live with who he is. Have Wonderbolt Leader return to the carrier."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said. "Sir, Polemarch Yeoh of the Mistralians is hailing you."

"Really?" Ironwood said. "Put her on."

"General Ironwood," Polemarch Yeoh's voice filled the air.

"Polemarch Yeoh, to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Ironwood.

"Perhaps I called to laugh at you for the defeat of your students in the first match," Yeoh suggested lightly. "Or perhaps I called to ask what you're planning to do about all those grimm?"

"The Valish wish me to do nothing," Ironwood said. "They are concerned that a lot of gunfire will cause a panic."

"Really?" Yeoh asked dryly. "That was General Blackthorn's view, I take it?"

"Yes," Ironwood replied. "How—?"

"I don't like that man," Yeoh said. "There is something about him … it cloys at me, like too much perfume. His personnel already have their hands on the Zhenyuan, but I'm stalling handing the Dingyuan over."

Ironwood coughed. "I should tell you, Polemarch, that my Valish liaison officer, Colonel Sky Beak of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons, is standing behind me."

"Really? My Valish liaison officer has come down with a terrible case of food poisoning," Yeoh said. "Colonel Sky Beak, do you feel safer with the grimm gathering than you would if you heard a few rockets going off?"

"Not really, Polemarch."

"Then you are a sensible man, Colonel," Yeoh said. "I understand why you feel that you must go along with General Blackthorn for now, General Ironwood, but I want you to know that if the time ever comes when you feel you must go your own way, you can count on my support.

"And, also, bad luck in that last match."

And You're About to Fall Down (New)

And You’re About to Fall Down

Earlier that morning…

Technically, this meeting with the General only required the two students who would actually be competing in the two-on-two round, Sabine and Reynard, but all four members of Team SABR were standing in General Ironwood’s office aboard the Valiant, lined up at attention, facing his desk.

Because, although it was only Sabine and Reynard who would be doing it, it had been their collective idea, and they were here to take collective responsibility for it.

Plus, there was another matter that they wanted to discuss with the General that did involve all four of them.

They had just finished explaining their intentions. Now, General Ironwood, sat in his chair, looked at them, hands clasped together as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair.

“To be quite honest,” he said, “I’m a little surprised that you came in here and told me that you planned to do this. You could have sprung it on me just as much as everyone else.”

“Perhaps we could, sir,” Sabine said, “but that didn’t feel quite right. Especially since it … it might come back on you.”

“I appreciate your consideration,” General Ironwood replied dryly. “And if I told you that I didn’t want you to go through with it, would you stop?”

Sabine licked her lips. “I really hope that you won’t tell us that, sir.”

“That isn’t what I asked, Silverband,” General Ironwood said, his voice becoming a little firmer.

Sabine was silent for a moment. She glanced at Reynard, and then at Bella and Aaron.

Reynard gave her a slight, but short and sharp, nod of the head.

Sabine took a breath. “If you order us to stand down, sir, then we will stand down, of course.” She paused for a moment. “But, as I say, sir, I really hope that you won’t do that.”

General Ironwood didn’t reply straight away. Instead, he got up out of his chair, so that he stood taller than any member of Team SABR, looking down at them instead of up. “So you’re saying that it’s really up to me?” he asked. “Thank you, Silverband, I appreciate that.”

Sabine let out a little cough, that might have become a bit of a laugh under different circumstances. “That wasn’t what I meant, sir. I … didn’t mean to put you—”

“In a difficult position?” Ironwood asked.

Sabine blinked. “Sir, you’re making me start to think it would have been a better idea to take you by surprise.”

“It might have been easier to manage afterwards,” General Ironwood said dryly. “But I’m still glad that you came to me.” He paused for a moment. “Some would say that politics should be left out of the Vytal Tournament.”

“Life is political, sir,” Sabine said. “And so is this tournament. It’s a celebration of peace between four kingdoms that started after the bloodiest war in the history of Remnant; how is that not political? The favourite to win is a Mistralian aristo who could afford the best trainers and the finest quality gear since she was a kid because her society still rests on a foundation of inequality and privilege. And the fact that…” Sabine trailed off, wondering if she might be about to bound over her step with this last point. After all, there was a Schnee on the General’s staff.

She felt Reynard’s hand close around hers and Bella’s hand on the other side of her. They were with her, her team was with her. They were with her, and they looked to her to speak for them here, as many faunus would look to her and Reynard to speak for them in the arena.

“And the fact that a Schnee gets to launder the reputation of her family through competing in this tournament, that’s political too,” she said quickly, before her nerve could fail her again. “I would also like to point out to the General that there are no rules in the tournament prohibiting anything like this.”

She would have liked to have given some examples of times when it had been done before now, but they had only come up with the idea at short notice, and it had been all that they could to surf through the rules and find that there was nothing prohibiting this, without finding some precedents into the bargain.

General Ironwood looked down on them all, his eyes resting particularly upon Sabine. Sabine fought against the temptation to flinch. If she didn’t flinch, if she showed that she was firm in her resolve, then the General was more likely to go for this.

She hoped, anyway.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Being born with the name of Schnee is not a crime, Silverband. Nor is it an indication of sin.”

“I didn’t say it was, sir.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, sir,” Sabine replied. “I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting Major Schnee by suggesting otherwise, but at the same time, I don’t think you can argue that Weiss Schnee isn’t a brand ambassador for the Schnee Dust Company. General, she wears the company logo on her back; she might as well be sponsored by them. Sir, I’ll go further than that: if she were only sponsored by the SDC, she’d have enjoyed less of their money.”

General Ironwood continued to look down at her. “I’m told that you had a verbal altercation with Dash last night,” he said. “I’m told that you called her something that I won’t repeat.”

Sabine’s brow furrowed a little as she tried to work out who could have told the General that. Dash wouldn’t tell; she had a lot of faults but she wasn’t a tattletale who would go snitching to the General just because she had hurt feelings. But who else could have told on them?

“It was Lady Belladonna,” General Ironwood said, as though he could read her mind. “High Chieftainess of Menagerie. It was only the fact that she has no standing in the matter that prevented her from making a complaint against you.”

Sabine swallowed. “Sir,” she said. “You don’t know what it’s like—”

“No,” General Ironwood said. “I don’t. But I do know that that is an ugly phrase, I know that it causes offence, and I know that all Atlas students are expected to hold themselves to a certain standard of behaviour, behaviour which you fell short of last night. Which is why you’ll be spending tonight cleaning tables and swabbing the floor in the mess hall on this ship after dinner, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Sabine said at once. She supposed … she supposed that it had been a harsh thing to say. She stood by the spirit of her words; Dash was even now far too quick to bow her head and bite her tongue for the sake of a quiet life with the humans, not willing to stand up for their people. But calling her a house faunus had been going a bit too far; it was a pretty nasty phrase, a legacy of slavery, and according to a lot of new historians, inaccurate as well. She, they, should have been better than that. “Do you want me to apologise, sir?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” General Ironwood said. “You’re old enough to decide that for yourself. Just as you are old enough to decide to go through with your plan.”

Sabine hesitated a moment, waiting for a catch that didn’t seem like it was going to come. “Sir … you mean—?”

“I don’t like this,” General Ironwood said, turning away from them to look out of the window. “I think that a lot of other people won’t like it either, although there will be those who are overjoyed by it. There will be those, at least if the four of you are anything to go by, for whom this gives them hope, a sign that they are not forgotten.

“Though you are students, you are all trusted to carry weapons, to fight, to die, to kill if need be. It would be strange, bordering on absurd, if I trusted you to do all those things but not to make decisions like these for yourselves. I don’t like this idea, but if it is your intent, if you want to go through with this and you’re prepared to face the consequences, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Sabine would have stood to attention if she hadn’t been doing so already. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” Having received his permission, it seemed a little churlish to bring up the other matter now, but they had agreed to do so, and they might not get another chance. “Sir, General, there is one other matter that we’d like to bring up with you.”

General Ironwood turned back to face them once again. “Let’s hear it.”

“Sir,” Sabine said. “We are … we haven’t come to a firm decision yet, but … we’re thinking about transferring to Shade Academy.”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “I see,” he said softly. “Can I ask why?”

“It’s nothing personal, sir,” Sabine said quickly. “You’ve always been fair with us, and we’ll miss you when we go.”

“But there are things about Atlas which you won’t miss,” General Ironwood said.

“Yes, sir,” Sabine replied. We hear that, in Vacuo, a faunus can stand up. She wasn’t sure if that was the kind of thing that she ought to say to the General, however; he might take it to mean that in Atlas they couldn’t, and that … that was true, at least in as far as Sabine always felt as though she had to hunch her shoulders just a little, but at the same time … that wasn’t the General’s fault. She always felt like he was trying his best, and she didn’t want to sound like she was blaming him for anything. “Sir, we haven’t made a final decision yet, it’s just … we thought you should know, just in case. We didn’t want to spring that on you either.”

“I see,” General Ironwood said. “Well, if you transfer as a team, it will certainly be more convenient than some transfers happening this year.” He managed to smile slightly. “But, in all seriousness, you’ll be missed. I’ll be sad to see you go, I think you’ve done very well here in Atlas, and if I don’t get the chance to see that continue, I’ll be sorry for it. But at the end of the day, you have to do what’s best for your team, and if, as team leader, you decide that what is best for Team Sabre is to take them to Vacuo, then who am I to stand in your way?

“Make the best decision you can for yourself and your teammates, and I’ll wish you the best of luck with whatever decision that happens to be.”

“Hey, kids!”

Team WWSR were standing at the docking platform, the far left platform, waiting for a skybus to take them up to the colosseum where Weiss and Flash would soon have their doubles match.

Weiss was not saying anything to any of her teammates. She stood watching the skies, eyes turned upwards towards the floating arena, watching as a skybus descended towards them with what seemed to be an aching slowness.

She was certain that it hadn’t been that slow yesterday; what was taking it so long now?

She had one hand upon Myrtenaster’s hilt, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the cold metal, not looking at Flash, nor Cardin or Russel, only looking at the skybus as though she could will it to get down here faster.

The voice, that familiar voice with the strong accent, the oral equivalent of a particularly pungent cheese, made her turn her head away from the slowly descending skybus, past the queue of other people — some students, mostly tourists — who were also waiting for the airship, and to Lieutenant Martinez, who was stomping towards them in a dark grey trouser suit and a white blouse.

“Lieutenant?” Russel said. “What are you—?”

“It’s about that Atlas student,” Weiss said softly, although not so softly that her words didn’t reach Lieutenant Martinez. “Isn’t it?”

Lieutenant Martinez stopped in front of the four students. With both hands, she fastened up her jacket with one button. “Yeah,” she said shortly, her equine tail giving a little toss behind her. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. You kids heard about that.”

“You could say that,” Flash murmured.

“And you could say that one of the dead girl’s teammates stormed right into the dining hall and accused—”

“Russel,” Weiss cut him off. “Not in front of the tourists.”

Russel seemed to abruptly realise that they were not alone. “Oh. Oh, right, yeah.” He coughed. “Sorry.”

“I see,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “Is there a suspect that I should know about?”

“No,” Weiss said. “There’s no way that it could have been … her.”

Lieutenant Martinez glanced at the queue of people waiting to board the skybus — when it finally arrived. “I take it that we’re talking about a certain Mistralian here.”

“Yes,” Cardin said. “Very much so.”

“Right,” Lieutenant Martinez muttered. “Well, for what it’s worth, I agree; I don’t see her as a suspect either.”

“But you are here to investigate,” Cardin said. “Right?”

“Yes, Cardin, that is why I’m here, instead of watching your match in the comfort of my own living room with my husband and my two boys,” Lieutenant Martinez said.

“I wouldn’t have thought that this was a Flying Squad case,” Cardin went on.

“That makes two of us; I don’t think this is a Flying Squad case either,” Lieutenant Martinez replied. “Unfortunately, I don’t get paid to make that kind of decision.” She paused. “Anyway, don’t worry about that; I just wanted, while I was here, to wish you good luck. I won’t be able to watch the two of you, but I’m rootin’ for you anyway.”

Weiss pushed back her shoulders a little. “Thank you, Lieutenant; we’ll do our best not to disappoint.”

“You’d better,” Lieutenant Martinez said. “I’ve been singing your praises all round the office.” She smiled. “You all did pretty good last time, by the way.”

“Thanks, El-Tee,” Russel said.

Lieutenant Martinez looked at Weiss. “Listen … I don’t know how it’s been, since … I don’t know if anyone’s said anything, or … but if they are, then don’t listen to them. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still a diamond. Now go knock ‘em dead up there.”

“I shall certainly…” Weiss began. “I will,” she said.

“We will,” Flash added.

“That’s the spirit,” said Lieutenant Martinez. She glanced upwards to where the skybus was almost upon them. “I’d better leave you to it and get back to work myself.” She turned away, her jacket flapping a little as the updraft from the airship’s engines caught it, and began to walk back towards the school just as the skybus landed on the docking platform.

The door on the side of the airship opened, and Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, and Penny emerged.

At least Sunset is staying to watch my match, I suppose, Weiss thought.

And besides, I would wear the self-pity better if I had watched Sunset and Pyrrha. Instead, she had used the time to attempt Summoning, the last aspect of the Schnee semblance that she had not yet unlocked. Once she did so, then she would be able to summon spectral avatars of foes that she had slain — grimm, principally; at least, that was all Weiss had ever seen Winter summon — to fight on her behalf. If she was able to do it, if she was able to unveil the ability at the tournament, then it would no doubt make quite a stir.

Sadly, for all her effort, she still hadn’t been able to do it. That last piece of her birthright remained frustratingly beyond her reach.

Instead of explaining all of that, Weiss said nothing more than, “Congratulations, Pyrrha.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, “and the very best of luck to both of you. I’m sorry that I won’t be able to watch, but I have some … pressing matters to take care of.”

“Of course,” Weiss said, with an easy tone that masked her disappointment. “Think nothing of it. Besides, you’ll have other chances to see me, I guarantee it.”

Ruby led the way as the airship rose behind them, carrying Team WWSR and everyone else up to the arena for the next match. Ruby and the rest were heading in the opposite direction, down the path towards the courtyard, her silver eyes glancing this way and that looking for—

Sunset? Ruby stopped, and Jaune coming up behind almost walked right into her. What was Sunset doing here? They’d left her up in the colosseum, but there she was standing in … oh, oh, no, right, no, it wasn’t Sunset was it, it was somebody dressed as Sunset. Someone who, now Ruby could actually stop and look at them, had darker skin than Sunset, much darker, like Ciel or Rainbow Dash. Although, if they were such a fan of Sunset that they wanted to dress as her, then surely they would have gone up to the colosseum and watched her match? It wasn’t as though they were going to get another chance now.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed a little. You know … there seemed something familiar about this girl, dressed as Sunset but kind of looking as though she was skulking about.

The Sunset cosplayer looked in Ruby’s direction and seemed to jump a little bit as though she was—

“Ruby?”

Now it was Ruby’s turn to jump — just a little bit — as she realised that Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny had been joined by Yang, Amber, and Dove, and she hadn’t even noticed. It was Yang who loomed over her, back bent a little bit to get their faces on more of a level, looking down at her with worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” Yang asked. “You seemed a little bit spaced out there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ruby said. “I was just—” She looked back towards the … but she was gone. While Ruby had looked away, she had disappeared; there was an empty space in the crowd where she had been.

“Ruby?” Pyrrha asked.

“I…” Ruby shook her head. “It’s nothing, sorry, I just … thought I saw someone, but it was just someone in a costume.”

Yang laughed. “Yeah, I saw someone dressed as me — kind of dressed as me anyway; they had my Ember Celica — earlier. Which, you know, I think it’s kind of cool, seeing people all dressed up as us.” She looked at Pyrrha, a grin spreading across her face. “I bet you’ve gotten so used to it by now that all the fun has gone out of it.”

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed red. “Well … you are … not entirely wrong.”

Yang snorted. “I take it you won, then?”

Pyrrha chuckled just a little bit. “Yes. Yes, we won.”

“Congrats,” Yang said.

“Yes, well done,” Amber said, “to you and Sunset.” She paused. “Where is Sunset?”

“She stayed behind to watch Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry in their match,” Pyrrha explained.

“Oh, yes, she and Flash were … he was her boyfriend, wasn’t he?” Amber asked, putting a hand on Dove’s arm.

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed. “Although that was a while ago now, or at least I think it was. I don’t think Sunset ever said exactly when they broke up.”

“Can’t have been that long before the Beacon year started; they would hardly have been old enough to date before that,” Yang pointed out.

Ruby began to speak, “They could have—”

“They would hardly have been old enough to date,” Yang said, forcefully and with emphasis, as she looked down at Ruby.

Ruby rolled her silver eyes. Seriously? Seriously? “Relax, Yang, there’s nobody like that.”

“Good,” Yang said. “I don’t want you getting any ideas from Amber and Dove over here.”

“'Ideas'?” Ruby asked.

Amber beamed so brightly that Ruby almost watched to squint her eyes. “Dove and I are going to—”

“They don’t need to hear it, and they certainly don’t need to hear it here,” Yang declared. “Just know that it’s going to be happening at our place.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Penny.

“Penny,” Jaune said, his ears burning red as though he’d been lying with them both pressed up against a pillow … somehow; maybe with two pillows. “Even if I were sure that you wanted to know the answer, and I’m not, I don’t think I want to be here when it gets explained.”

Ruby blinked as she tried to work out what Yang was saying, or not saying. “Are you talking about—?”

“Yes,” Yang said quickly. “Yes, I am, but how do you know that?”

“Because I’m fifteen, not ten?” Ruby suggested. “And because I’ve read the Matter of Vale stories; what do you think Percy and Prince Tristan were doing that was so terrible it brought down the kingdom? They weren’t just kissing.”

“You told us that Percy and Tristan were in love,” Penny pointed out. “So if it wasn’t just kissing—”

“They’re talking about where calves come from, Penny,” Jaune said.

“'Where calves come from'?” Yang asked.

“Your parents showed you cows, didn’t they?” Dove suggested.

“My Dad took me out to see the bull in the west field when they let the cows in,” Jaune replied. “And then I saw the calf birthed nine months later. You?”

“It was pigs,” said Dove.

“How was that?” asked Jaune.

“Filthy,” said Dove.

“Could we … could we please talk about something else?” asked Pyrrha, who had turned about the same colour as a beetroot. “Amber, I rejoice at your happiness, but I confess I am not finding this conversation particularly edifying or decorous.”

“Sorry,” Jaune murmured.

“It’s not your fault; I’m the one who brought it up,” Yang added. “Sorry, Pyrrha; sorry, everyone, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s private between Amber and Dove. I suppose it isn’t as funny as I thought it was.”

“It’s quite … there’s no need to apologise,” Pyrrha said as she looked down at her own feet. “It’s just that … where I come from, this isn’t something that ladies of a good background discuss in public. Especially not when there are other things to speak of, Ruby.”

“Yes! Right!” Ruby cried. “Yang, we were thinking about taking a trip east, and I think that you should come with us.”

Yang put her hands on her hips. “East? You mean, like, to Mistral?”

“No, not to Mistral, east of the mountains,” Ruby explained. “We’re going to see if we can find any of our long lost Rose relatives! Mom’s relatives!”

Yang frowned. “You mean like the land beyond the kingdom? East beyond Vale?”

“Uh huh,” Ruby agreed. “Where Mom came from?”

“That is a perilous journey,” Dove murmured.

“Is it really?” Amber asked. “Is it so dangerous?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Ruby assured her. “It’s not like it was in Olivia’s time, Dove; we’re not going to get ambushed by huge numbers of grimm. There are people who live there, people like my mom and her family, and there are even traders who travel between Vale and the land beyond, and we’re hoping that we can travel with them so we don’t have to, like, search the whole of the country looking for a town or whatever. People have been living there since before the Great War; just because neither Vale nor Mistral was able to hold onto it doesn’t mean that the land is super dangerous or uninhabitable. It just means that you maybe have to be a little bit tougher to survive there than you do in Vale or Mistral or Atlas.”

“So … Vacuo?” Penny suggested.

“Yeah,” Ruby agreed. “Yeah, Penny, that makes a lot of sense. It’s probably a lot like Vacuo, except it doesn’t have a huntsman academy.”

Certainly, it didn’t deserve to be looked down on the way that Sunset did.

Probably not, anyway.

Yang didn’t look very excited about all of this. She wasn’t smiling; she wasn’t really frowning either, but it almost looked as though she might get there if she was given long enough.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of this figured out already,” Yang murmured.

Ruby smiled. “Just a little bit.”

Yang nodded. “So … when are you thinking of leaving?”

“Not right now,” Ruby said. “Maybe next spring break.”

“Amber,” Pyrrha said gently. “Unfortunately, we might have to postpone the Mistral trip, but we thought that perhaps—”

“It’s fine,” Amber said quickly, taking Dove’s hand in her own. “It’s fine, really. We don’t have to go right away, or even the first thing when you’re free. Just the fact that you were willing to … I can wait. Please, don’t worry yourselves about it.”

“Thanks, Amber,” Ruby said. “That’s really kind of you. It’s just … this means a lot to me.”

“You want to learn more about your mother and who she was and where she came from,” Amber replied. “Believe me, I understand it perfectly. I loved my mother very much, but … there were times when I wondered who my blood family were, what they were like, what it would be like to meet them.”

“Mmm,” Yang murmured. “This … this all sounds great, Ruby, it really does, but … I don’t get why you want me to come with you.”

“Because she’s your mom too,” Ruby insisted. “Because you should know as much as I do; don’t you want to know?”

“Yes, I want to know, I just wanted to be sure if you wanted me to know!”

“How many times do I have to say that I’m sorry about that?” Ruby demanded. “Professor Ozpin—”

“You didn’t have to listen to Professor Ozpin!” Yang cried. “You could have … do you think of me as your sister … or just your half-sister?”

Ruby clasped her hands together. “You’re my sister,” she said. “You’ll always be my sister. We had the same mom, and I want you to come with me to find out more about her and about where our family comes from. Our family. I never … if Mom were here, she’d tell you that her family was your family just as much as it is my family, and I never wanted to make you feel differently. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Yang whispered.

“No, it isn’t,” Ruby replied. “I hurt you.”

“Yeah,” Yang agreed. “But it’s still okay.” She went quiet for a little bit. “I want to come,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I really want to come, but … what if Mom’s relatives don’t feel the same way? What if they—?”

“Then we turn around and come straight back home,” Ruby declared. “If they don’t want both of us, then they don’t deserve either of us.”

Yang stared down at her. “You … you’d do that, for—?”

“For family?” Ruby asked. “Every time.”

Finally, and about time, Yang smiled. “I love you. I love you a whole lot.”

Ruby grinned. “Well, I love you even more.”

“Boooo!” Leaf jeered at the TV “Boooo!”

“They’re not even on the field yet; you can’t see anything,” Veil pointed out.

“I know,” Leaf said. “I’m starting early.”

“Because she’s a Schnee?” Veil asked.

“Because her family’s company was going to sear their initials into my skin, yeah!”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Veil muttered. “I guess you want to see her taken down a peg, huh?”

“Absolutely,” said Leaf.

Rainbow, Blake, Twilight, and Sunset took their seats in the competitors section in the front of the stands. There was no sign yet of Weiss' teammates who weren't taking part in the battle, but Rainbow was sure that they'd be here at some point before the match got under way.

She stared down at the empty arena, the terrain from Trixie and Starlight's match all cleared away, just the white metallic surface, waiting for the next group of combatants to set foot upon it.

"Am I alright to sit here?" Sunset asked. "Or should I go to the other side of the arena where my cheering for Flash and Weiss won't bother you?"

"What are you talking about?" Rainbow demanded. "We're cheering for Weiss and Flash too."

"Oh, are you now?" Sunset demanded. "What, you wouldn't root for me and Pyrrha against Atlas students, but you'll root for Weiss and Flash?"

"She has a point," Blake murmured.

Rainbow, who hadn't looked at Sunset and who didn't look at Blake, folded her arms. "Yeah? Well … you won anyway, right?"

"Rainbow Dash?" Twilight said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rainbow muttered.

"Liar," Twilight said. "What's up?"

Rainbow turned her head to look at her. "You don't want to know."

"Obviously, I do want to know, or I wouldn't be asking," Twilight pointed out as she grabbed Rainbow by the chin and turned her head so that she was forced to look at Twilight's face.

Twilight's face with her lower lip covering her upper lip, and her eyes seeming to get bigger, rounder, sadder, all her features softening up before Rainbow's very eyes.

"Twi," Rainbow said. "Come on, Twi, please don't do that."

Twilight kept on doing it anyway, because she knew what worked.

"Okay, okay, fine," Rainbow said. "It's not fair the way that you do that."

"It works, doesn't it?" Twilight asked, a smile replacing the pout on her face.

"I know it works; that's why it isn't fair," Rainbow said, raising her voice just a bit. She sighed. "She called me a house faunus last night."

"Who did?" Blake demanded.

"Sabine Silverband of Team Sabre," Rainbow explained. "One of the two that Weiss is going up against today. That's why I'm rooting for Weiss and Flash. I mean, it's also because we're friends, but partly, I want to see Sabine and Reynard get their heads pounded into the floor, even if that is a little disloyal to Atlas."

"Is that… that's why you disappeared for a little bit," Twilight said. "And then you came back with Lady Belladonna?"

Rainbow unfolded her arms, letting them both fall down onto her knees. "Yeah," she said. "I needed to go away and think about it—"

"What's there to think about?" Twilight asked. "They were just … did you take it seriously?"

"No," Rainbow said quickly. "If I took it seriously, I wouldn't be so mad at them for having said it. I just really didn't like the fact that they said it. All I asked them to do was not take how they felt about this SDC stuff out on Weiss, and they threw that at me."

"They sound like a charming bunch," Sunset murmured. "Maybe they'd be better off with the White Fang."

"That's not fair," Rainbow said.

Sunset looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"They called you—" Twilight started.

"I know what they called me," Rainbow said. "And I want them to get beaten down for it, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't make them evil or terrorists. It just makes them jackasses … angry jackasses, but the fact that they're jackasses doesn't mean that they don't have a right to be angry, if that makes sense."

"I feel like I should be the one saying that," Blake murmured.

"You can take the next one," Rainbow said.

Blake smiled softly.

"Is that … is that what it's going to be like for you?" Twilight asked. "Whatever you do for the faunus, you're going to get told that you're not enough of a faunus to … to be a faunus?"

"Perhaps," Blake admitted. "I know that my dad got called that a few times."

"And your mom," Rainbow said. "She told me that Sienna Khan called her one once, and she hit her across the face with a tray." She grinned. "You didn't tell me that your mom was such a badass."

"I never thought of my mom as being any kind of badass," Blake replied. "To me, she was just … Mom." She paused. "Do you think … do you think Team Sabre might try and take it out on Weiss? I mean, they didn't like you suggesting that it wasn't her fault."

"What are they going to do?" Sunset asked. "The tournament has rules."

"I know, I'm not suggesting that they'll try and injure her," Blake said, "but you can win with grace, or you can humiliate your opponents, and I worry that they'll be trying for the second option."

"They've got to win first," Sunset said.

"And that," Rainbow added. "That's what I hope won't happen."

"Are you okay?" Flash asked, as they waited in the tunnel.

"Of course," Weiss replied at once. She brushed her fingertips lightly against the hilt of Myrtenaster. "Everything that I told you all yesterday remains true today." She ventured a small smile. "Except that I dare to hope that we won over some hearts and minds yesterday."

Flash smiled too. "I'm pretty sure we made a good impression."

"And today, we will make another," Weiss declared. She frowned ever so slightly. "I do wish that we knew more about our opponents; unfortunately, I've not encountered this Team Sabre until now. I don't suppose you know anything?"

Flash shook his head. "No, nothing. We probably should have asked Rainbow Dash, or you could have asked Blake."

"Would they have told us?" Weiss asked. "You saw how they were this morning; Rainbow Dash and Blake are both my friends, but when it comes to this tournament, they're on the side of Atlas — the Academy, not the kingdom. I doubt they'd tell us anything. I would say that we know that our opponents are from Atlas, and we do … but that doesn't really tell us very much, does it?"

Flash chuckled. "No," he said. "Not really. I guess it could mean, it hopefully means, that they won't give us a hard time over … you know."

"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "We can certainly hope so, but we can't be sure. Anyway, we should—"

"Have you heard from anyone?" Flash asked her. "From back home, I mean, congratulations on making it into the second round?"

Weiss paused for a second. "Well," she murmured. "My little brother, Whitley, did send me this text message once we were done with our match yesterday." She got out her scroll, grateful to have something to do with her hands while she waited, and opened it up; Whitley's message was near the top of the list, and she found it easily. She read it out, although it was so short that she could have given the gist of it by heart. "'Dear Weiss—'"

"Is he sending you a text or writing you a letter?" Flash asked.

Weiss let out a little laugh. "The formality of our house would make many a Mistralian of the Old Blood stare in amazement," she declared. She thought about the Mistralian aristocrat that she knew best — not that well, admittedly — and revised her remark, "Well, perhaps not them, but everyone short of that proud station would doubtless find us very odd. May I continue?"

"Of course," Flash said. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's no trouble," Weiss assured him. She cleared her throat and began to read once again. "'Dear Weiss, I see that you managed to emerge victorious from that bit of barbarism, even if it did mean letting yourself get assaulted by some desert savage. I could never voluntarily subject myself to such indignities, and it amazes me that you can. I am as awed by the courage as I am dismayed by the folly of it all. Well done and best of luck in the next round brawl.'" She closed her scroll.

Flash stared at her. "That … that was … at least he wished you luck."

Weiss covered her mouth with one hand as she put her scroll away. "That was actually quite a supportive message."

"Really? What would an unsupportive message look like?"

"Sheer venom," Weiss said. "Possibly with a coating of strong sarcasm." She paused. "I don't expect Whitley to understand why I'm doing this — the tournament, or Beacon, or becoming a huntress; just the fact that he's watching is nice to know. Oh, and I heard from Klein as well?"

"That's … the butler, right?" Flash asked.

"Yes, that's right," Weiss replied. "He gave me a call last night."

"Nice," Flash said. "But … you didn't…" He didn't ask about her parents, although she could tell that he wanted to, or had been about to, or at least that he had noted the absence of any mention of either of her parents. But he did not actually mention it, and for that, she was grateful.

"And you?" Weiss asked. "Did your mother call or send you a message?"

"No," Flash said at once. "No, she wouldn't; she…"

"Doesn't approve," Weiss murmured.

"Yeah," Flash agreed. "That's about the size of it." There was a rather forced quality to his smile as he added, "Still, I'm sure that when I get back to Atlas, she'll have fun showing me off at all the parties, especially if we win this match."

Weiss would have very much liked to say that she didn't know what he was talking about; unfortunately, she really couldn't.

"Yes, well…" She reached out with one small, pale hand, enclosing it around some of his fingers. "Just remember that we do not fight for those who seek only to borrow the light of our prestige, but for ourselves. This isn't about your mother or my parents or the SDC; this is about us, huntsman and huntress, and all that we are and all that we can be. And all that we have done and will do. It's all for us, not for them."

Flash looked at her, and then he looked down at her hand, around his fingers. He moved his other hand towards her, as though he meant to take it, but then, before he actually did, he almost recoiled, pulling his hand away. "We should … probably get out there," he said.

Weiss let go of his fingers. "Yes," she said, "you're probably right."

She led the way, out of the shadows and into the light of the arena, emerging into view to a … rather more muted reception than she had, in all honesty, been hoping for. Nobody was singing songs about them — or Atlas, for that matter. There were some cheers, more than there had been yesterday, there were some boos as well, but overall, there was just not a great deal of noise.

There were not a great many people around to make the noise. That was not to say that the colosseum was empty — she was sure that the crowd assembled would have filled up many lesser venues — it was just that in the vast space of the Amity Arena Weiss could not help but notice — without even having to look around much — that there were a large number of empty spaces.

I bet there weren't this many empty seats for Pyrrha.

Apparently, I'm not considered much of a draw.

Weiss was not blind to the irony of the fact that, forced into singing by her father, she regularly filled up whole concert halls and stadiums full of people come to hear her do something that didn't even rise to the level of a hobby in terms of her enjoyment of or commitment to it, yet now, when she was following her passion and ambition both at the same time, nobody wanted to know.

Fewer people, anyway, or it seemed so, whatever the exact numbers.

The irony was not lost on her, but that didn't mean she had to like being greeted with the attendance equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders.

Is to be regarded with indifference better or worse than being hated? A question to be asked.

Nevertheless, in spite of the indifference of the crowd, Weiss and Flash made their way to the central hexagon, where they waited for their opponents to show themselves.

It was only once Weiss and Flash were both stood still and waiting that Weiss saw the two figures emerging from the opposite end of the stadium. They walked quickly across the white metal, and as they got closer, Weiss saw something that caused her eyes to widen and her mouth to flap open with a gasp of surprise.

Both of their opponents had painted the letters 'SDC' upon their faces, surrounded with a square border, all in a brownish red like old, congealed blood that looked unmistakably like the pictures of the brands found on the faunus rescued from the facilities uncovered by Blake and Rainbow Dash.

They … they really … is this allowed?

The crowd seemed as confused about that as Weiss was, because they didn't cheer for the Team SABR duo, nor did they boo them; instead, the overwhelming sound that Weiss heard was one of confusion, surprise, and uncertainty.

Or perhaps that was simply what Weiss wanted to hear because it was better than sympathy.

The girl, Sabine Silverband, smirked as her matte black tail swished eagerly back and forth behind her. She was wearing a white jacket — with a black collar — over a black dress, with a necklace of blue ice dust crystals around her neck. Strapped to her right wrist, she had what Weiss presumed to be her weapon: a grey, square, blocky contraption that looked as though it shot something; something flat, judging by the slit at the front.

"Is there a problem, Miss Schnee?" she asked, the smirk fixed on her face.

Weiss was reminded of the way that Rainbow Dash had greeted her when they first met, Miss Schnee this and Miss Schnee that. I should have known that deference would be thrown back in my face at some point.

Of course, the two Atlas students had put her in a position where she couldn't really complain about it without seeming petulant and thin-skinned. Was she supposed to stamp her foot and demand that they wipe those letters off their faces?

It has nothing to do with me, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I wonder if everyone watching feels the same way.

Weiss drew Myrtenaster with a flourish, pointing it towards Sabine. "Not at all," she said. "The only problem is that the match hasn't started yet."

Sabine snorted. “We are here for all the faunus!” she declared as the view from the giant screens lingered on the letters she had painted on her face. “And you,” she pointed at Weiss, “will get what you have coming to you.”

Weiss did not respond. What would have been the point? The last thing she wanted to do was be drawn into an argument about her responsibility for the actions of elements of the Schnee Dust Company.

“Kick their asses, Weiss! And Flash!”

Weiss smiled slightly as the shout from Rainbow Dash reached her ears.

Not quite here for all the faunus, then.

“Ahem,” Professor Port cleared his throat; even that sound echoed around the arena. “Let’s get things underway, shall we?”

“Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon!” announced Doctor Oobleck as the icons for the different terrain types began to spin around the edges of the diagonal sides of the hexagon. “Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas!”

Reynard wore his Atlesian armour white, with a red stripe running down his chest and stomach; he had a long but sturdy arming sword at his hip, which he drew, while on his left arm, he carried what looked like a cross; Weiss guessed that it would use hard light dust to generate a shield, although it could be used as a launcher for some other kind of dust, however ungainly it might be to wield it thus.

She thought she was right on her first guess, however.

With a succession of beeps, the rolling images came to a halt, selecting the four biomes for this battle: behind Weiss and Flash, the ice field and the savannah; behind Sabine and Reynard, the mountain and the shipwreck.

The floor around the central hexagon opened up, and the biomes arose: the white field of ice, the savannah with its long grass and solitary tree, the dashed wooden ship with its tall mast, the mountain rising above all else.

“Three!” Professor Port cried.

“Two!” shouted Doctor Oobleck.

Weiss stepped into her preferred starting stance, Myrtenaster drawn back past her head, the blade at eye level with her face.

Flash pulled Rho Aias off his back and into one hand, holding Caliburn in spear mode for an overarm descending thrust.

“One!” Professor Port bellowed. “Begin!”

Sabine raised her arm — with the square, heavy gauntlet attached — towards Weiss and immediately fired at Weiss a disc, a thin metal disc about the size of a buckler, with a small, fine circle of ice dust set in the centre of it. The disc blasted out of her gauntlet, spinning as it flew for Weiss’ head.

Flash moved in a flash, despite his bulky-seeming armour, throwing himself between Weiss and Sabine, planting his feet like a tree planting its roots in the soil, raising Rho Aias to shield his own face. The disc slammed into Flash’s shield and bounced off, spinning away to some distant corner of the battlefield, while Flash himself was unmoved, the force of the blow absorbed by his semblance.

Sabine scowled, and more discs fired out of her gauntlet, leaping from the narrow slit to razor through the air towards the two members of Team WWSR. Sabine loosed disc after disc, and disc after disc slammed into Flash and his Rho Aias, rebounding off the shield, flying away somewhere, while Flash stolidly endured the strikes and, thanks to his semblance, wasn’t moved by them at all; he stood like a stone wall, taking everything that Sabine could dish out without flinching.

But his aura was dropping under a combination of Sabine’s hits and his own semblance use. He couldn’t keep this up forever.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to.

Weiss cycled the cylinder built into Myrtenaster’s hilt, cycling through red fire dust, yellow lightning dust, blue ice dust, until she came to the pale blue hard light dust that she was looking for.

“Just a little longer, Flash,” she told him as she conjured up an array of white glyphs, charged with hard light dust, half a dozen of them forming a halo around her head.

You’re not the only one who can shoot.

Laser beams erupted out of Weiss’ glyphs like bullets from a rotary cannon, glyphs firing in sequence one after the other, from the left and working their way to the right before starting again. The bolts of hard light soared over and around Flash’s head towards Sabine.

It was the turn of Reynard to put himself between his team leader and the attacks of their opponent. He planted his cross upon the arena surface, and immediately, it began to glow with a pale blue light.

Hard light. I was right.

The cross grew larger, beams of hard light extending upwards and outwards, and then more hard light filling in the space between the arms of the cross, a honeycomb-pattern barrier of hard light that absorbed Weiss’ laser fire without breaking, without even seeming to fluctuate under the fire.

Weiss kept up her bombardment, for now, if only for something to do while she thought — and in part for the hope that the shield might prove weak and she could batter through it if she could just keep up the fire for long enough. That was a strategy, not least because she could fire over Flash, while Sabine couldn’t fire over Reynard’s hard light barrier, so of the two of them, she was the one who could continue firing while the SABR duo had rendered themselves immobile and incapable of responding.

However, while Weiss might have taken the chance that a hard light pavise like this one made in Mistral or Vacuo might crumble under pressure and shoddy workmanship, she was a little more wary of doing so when faced with Atlas tech.

There was a good chance that she would run out of hard light dust for her lasers before Reynard’s shield gave way, in which case, she and Flash would be worse off than their enemies.

But there were other ways, and her point that the enemy had immobilised themselves held true.

“Flash,” she said, “I need you to keep Reynard pinned down with a frontal assault, while I—”

“Do you really think that’s all I’ve got, Miss Schnee?” Sabine yelled, her voice cracking.

At first, it was very faint, so faint that Weiss took a moment to notice it: the glow of ice dust crystals, each one glimmering blue, sparkling as the metal discs in which they were set rose into the air from all the different parts of the battlefield on which they had landed.

“What an extraordinary display!” Doctor Oobleck declared from the commentators’ box. “Sabine Silverband’s semblance allows her to manipulate ice, so by placing a small amount of ice dust within each of her discs, she can control them as if by telekinesis!”

Weiss knew, because she had overheard the grumbling about it, that a lot of students participating in the Vytal Tournament didn’t especially like having the details of their semblances revealed to the audience at home — and to their competitors in the arena. Unfortunately for Weiss, knowing how Sabine was doing it — and yes, it was rather clever of her — didn’t really help Weiss to do anything about it.

It did not, for example, help her to stop the metal discs that were closing in on her and Flash, emerging from out of the tall grass and the ice field, rising up out of the water, descending from the mountaintop. They closed in like a swarm of flies come to eat their fill.

“Stay where you are, Flash,” Weiss said as she skipped three steps towards him and, with both hands, rammed Myrtenaster, point first, down into the grey metallic surface of the central hexagon. She grunted as she conjured up glyph after glyph, black glyphs, the barrier glyphs, she threw them up one another after all around the two of them, conjuring them in haste as Sabine’s discs began to rain down towards the pair of them.

The discs flew down, and Weiss threw her barrier glyphs up, trying to form a dome of glyphs that would completely encompass the both of them before the discs — there were twelve of them, maybe more, maybe as many as fifteen; it was hard to accurately count — struck home. The glyphs appeared in mid-air, forming lines stretching up from the ground, stitching patterns together, and where they appeared, Sabine’s discs bounced off them a second time, and even a third.

But there were so many glyphs that Weiss had to conjure, and before she had conjured enough, before she had completed her dome of protection, three of the metal discs had slipped through the net and into her defences.

And they were all aimed at Weiss.

Flash, no longer having to worry about a frontal assault, turned away and batted one aside with a thrust from Caliburn, but the other two were too quick, and Sabine’s control over them too dexterous.

Weiss drew her sword from out of the ground — now that the glyphs were conjured, keeping them so did not require all her attention — and the rapier blade lashed out, a silver light cutting through the air, to strike first one disc and then the other, knocking them away.

As more discs slammed into her glyphs from the outside, these three struck from the inside, and from either side, the glyphs held firm.

That was mostly to the good, but not so good, considering it meant that they were essentially trapped with these three discs of Sabine’s that had managed to get in.

They flew at Weiss again, from all directions this time. Again, Flash caught one of them, but two more came from other directions, and Weiss was forced to pirouette on her toes, her ponytail whirling around her, to catch them both with Myrtenaster.

Obviously, this situation couldn’t endure forever, but the moment that Weiss let the glyphs go, then more of these discs would descend upon them. She needed a plan, and she needed to fend off these three discs while she planned, whirling in place, conjuring more glyphs where she could, trying to keep an eye on all three discs at once as they darted this way and that in search of an opening.

Weiss and Flash stood back to back, so that Weiss did not have to look everywhere to protect herself; his gilded cuirass felt hard against her back, the crest of his helmet was scratchy against the back of Weiss’ head, but there was something reassuring about the feeling as well.

It was reassuring that he was there, here with her.

It was reassuring to hear the solid clanging sounds as Sabine’s discs rebounded off his shield; it was, she had to admit, a much more reassuring sound than the noise made as she deflected them with Myrtenaster.

Come on, Weiss, what’s the plan? You can’t just stand here until your aura runs out.

I’m still the fastest person on this battlefield, and the most nimble and manoeuvrable as well. So long as I can stay ahead of her discs … or stop them.

A smile crossed Weiss’ face. Yes. Yes, that might work.

She cycled the cylinder in Myrtenaster to red fire dust.

“I take it that you have a plan,” Flash said.

“What makes you say that?” asked Weiss as she batted aside a disc with a flick of Myrtenaster.

“Because you wouldn’t be changing dust if you didn’t,” Flash replied.

Weiss smiled. “Then yes,” she said, striking out with her rapier to knock another disc away before it could hit her. “I have a plan. When I drop my glyphs,” — she paused, expecting Flash to protest; he didn’t, for which she found herself rather grateful — “I want you to go forward, keep Reynard busy. I’m going to work around and behind his barrier and deal with Sabine.”

“Fair enough,” Flash said. “What about all these discs?”

Weiss took a step forward, the better to assume a fencing stance, one foot forward, blade at the ready. “I’ve got a plan for that, too,” she said, and dropped all of her black glyphs.

Every disc that Sabine had fired descended on Weiss at once, as though Sabine wanted to crush Weiss underneath her shield-like discs.

“Go, Flash!” Weiss yelled as she spun in place, and as she spun, she let a tongue of fire rip out of Myrtenaster which whirled around Weiss like a dancer’s ribbon.

Because Sabine couldn’t control the metal of the discs — she wasn’t using telekinesis or ferrokinesis — she was controlling the ice dust, and the ice dust only, which meant if that dust was gone, then the discs, once fired, were useless.

Thank you, Doctor Oobleck.

Weiss’ tongue of fire engulfed the three discs that had been caught on the wrong side of Weiss’ glyphs, the three that were closest and had troubled her the most; the fire swept over them, and though it wasn’t hot enough to melt the metal, it did make the embedded dust crystals explode, falling in tiny shards down to the floor — and the metal discs with them. Sabine couldn’t move them anymore.

Weiss allowed the smile to remain on her face as she danced in place, turning this way and that, shooting fire out of Myrtenaster at each disc as it shot towards her, sometimes conjuring a glyph here or there to cover herself, but mostly relying on the flames, on the flames that burned the ice dust to nothing and sent disc after disc falling with a clatter to the ground.

Weiss was not quite fast enough to catch all of the discs; one of them slipped past her flames to slam into the side of her head, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground. But Weiss still had Myrtenaster in her hand, and as the disc swung around for another pass, she raised the blade, a fireball leaping from it to catch the disc in mid-air, consuming the little ice dust wafer embedded within.

Weiss didn't wait for the disc to fall. She was already on her feet, running across the central hexagon towards the savannah biome.

Soon, after only a few pounding steps, she ceased to run, conjuring instead a white glyph a couple of inches off the ground, a glyph onto which she leapt as it turned lazily in the air, a glyph which took her weight as solidly as the floor beneath. A glyph from which she conjured a whole line of glyphs, a column of them running across the central hexagon and then rising above the tall grass of the savannah, so that as the glyphs carried Weiss along, she seemed to run atop the surface of the grass with such light step that she did not disturb it.

"Look, grandfather, look at me fly!"

Weiss laughed a little to remember that now, of all times: the joy that she had taken in her semblance then, the way the old man had smiled from his chair as though she had accomplished the most wonderful thing, and not the very least that should be expected of a Schnee.

Look, grandfather, I will make you proud yet.

Weiss skated rapidly atop her glyphs, over the savannah grass and towards the shipwreck. A mockup of an old wooden sailing ship, its hull of wooden planks holed and tattered but its mast still rising proud and tall above the broken deck, lay half-submerged in an artificial sea, with a narrow border of sandy beach where the biome joined to the mountain, the savannah, and to the central hexagon.

Weiss conjured up more glyphs out over the surface of the water, gliding over the artificial ocean around the edge of Reynard's hard light barrier.

She could see that Flash had his shield pressed up against that barrier, discharging the lightning dust in his shield in an effort to break through, but whether he broke through or not, Reynard could not turn away without leaving himself exposed and vulnerable.

Sabine was another matter. She could see what Weiss was doing, as plainly as Weiss could see Flash attempting to batter through Reynard's barrier, and because she could see, Sabine rushed towards Weiss and the shipwreck biome. She was slower than Weiss, without any glyphs to glide over, but as she ran, she raised her arm and fired more discs from her gauntlet.

Weiss retreated, white glyphs carrying her backwards towards the edge of the battlefield, while she raised her free hand and Myrtenaster; with her hand, she conjured up a pair of black glyphs to shield herself; with Myrtenaster, she loosed fireballs towards the discs that flew towards her.

The fireballs struck home; the discs passed through the flames, borne onwards by their momentum, but the ice dust within was gone.

The spinning discs slammed into Weiss' black glyphs, and there, they remained, suspended, spinning without moving.

"Would you like to see all I've got?" Weiss muttered, as she closed her hand into a fist. The black glyphs that held Sabine's discs turned a brilliant blue as the discs rebounded backwards as though they had run into rubber, flying backwards towards Sabine.

None of them struck her; Sabine dived out of the way, rolling along the ground, but as she dived, she had to stop shooting any more discs in Weiss' direction. Weiss passed over the water on a line of glyphs and reached the central hexagon again.

Sabine rolled to her feet, ripping one of the ice dust crystals from around her neck off its string and throwing it towards Weiss. It landed just short of her, before her as she glided forwards, the dust crystal erupting into a wall of ice to block her way. Weiss waved Myrtenaster in front of her like a wand, and a wave of fire swept out before her, burning through the ice — at the cost of the last of the fire dust stored in Myrtenaster. Weiss switched to yellow lightning dust as she burst through Sabine's collapsing barrier and raced towards her.

Sabine scowled, wiping one hand down her face, smearing the SDC letter she had painted on her skin, smearing her face with red lines like streaks of blood, before she tore off two more ice crystals from around her neck. She flung one ice crystal down to the ground at her feet, forming a round patch of ice onto which she leapt, while the other transformed in her hand into an icy sword, jagged, with spikes and shards of ice jutting out from all over the blade like thorns on rose.

Sabine swept the sword backwards for a slashing stroke as her patch of ice moved forwards, skidding across the arena surface towards Weiss.

Weiss glided sideways a step upon her white glyphs — she had no desire to physically collide with her opponent — but kept on skating across the grey surface towards Sabine. They met, close to the centre of the battlefield, Weiss' Myrtenaster clashing with Sabine's icy sword once, twice, as the two of them glided past one another like old-fashioned jousting knights.

And just like knights in the joust of old, they turned to face each other once again.

Weiss contemplated raising Myrtenaster in a salute to her opponent, but she doubted that Sabine would have appreciated the gesture, at least not coming from Weiss Schnee.

Instead, she drove hard at Sabine Silverband, using her glyphs to propel herself faster. The colosseum, the crowd, the whole world blurred around her as she flew faster than an arrow aimed straight at her enemy. Sabine fell back, parrying desperately. Her sword of ice clashed against Myrtenaster with subtle crunching, tingling sounds. Sabine's expression, teeth bared, brows turned outward, eyes wide, was one of mingled frustration and concern.

Did you expect me to be some useless pampered princess? Weiss thought, as she thrust at Sabine again and again, Myrtenaster's point seeking out the weaknesses in her guard.

"Weiss!" Flash shouted. "Behind you!"

Weiss retreated, gliding backwards away from Sabine even as she turned to see all the stalagmites from the ice biome, wrenched out of the ground by Sabine's semblance, flew like spears towards her.

Weiss held out her hand, conjuring a black glyph as tall as she was to cover her back against Sabine, while before her, she traced spindly silvery patterns in the air with Myrtenaster, shattering the icy spears one after another. Shards of broken ice fell at her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss saw Sabine float on her icy platform around Weiss' glyph.

Weiss didn't bother to turn around; rather, she skated forwards, then, with a deft switch from white glyphs to black beneath her feet, launched herself up into the air, staying ahead of the discs that Sabine fired at her, all of them flying through the empty air where she had been but was not now. They would turn on her, no doubt, moved by Sabine's semblance, but they would still have to catch her first. Another white glyph, conjured in the air, provided a platform to stand on for half a second or less before Weiss moved on, leaping to another glyph that hung at an upside down angle.

Weiss hung, ponytail drooping down towards the ground, and began to conjure up a series of black glyphs all around Sabine, a prison of dark swirling shapes and patterns that hemmed her in and confined her.

Sabine turned this way and that, slashing at the glyphs with her icy sword to no avail.

"Now you're putting me in a cage?!" she shouted.

Weiss ignored her ranting and dove down, propelled by her glyph. Speed was her ally and her hope, and as Sabine's discs pursued her, Weiss dove like a seagull upon the chips of the hapless tourist — or perhaps something a little more majestic and less verminous — down on Sabine.

The black glyphs which held Sabine and would have shielded her from Weiss' onslaught dissipated a second before Weiss flew past Sabine, lashing out with Myrtenaster to knock one of her legs out from under her and send her falling to one knee upon her ice platform, but otherwise, she was untouched as Weiss skated around behind her — placing Sabine between Weiss and all of Sabine's discs which were now flying straight at her.

Sabine had no time to react before her own weapons slammed into her in such a mass that Weiss thought they were going to bury her for a second, but which did knock her off her platform, knock the sword of ice from her grasp, and knock her flying backwards, head snapped around, arms and legs flailing.

And as she flew, Weiss jammed Myrtenaster, point first, into Sabine's back, and discharged her lightning dust.

Lighting rippled down the slender blade and up and down Sabine's body, snapping, biting, tearing at her aura as Sabine contorted in mid-air, devouring her shield until it dropped into the red.

A klaxon blared across the battlefield.

"Sabine Silverband has been eliminated by aura depletion!" Doctor Oobleck yelled.

Sabine flopped down onto her back on the ground, glaring up at Weiss without a word.

Weiss took two steps back, her attention turning to Reynard. Flash had brought down his hard light barrier, and now, the metal cross stood abandoned where he had planted it on the ground. Reynard and Flash were clashing, Reynard's sword against Caliburn in sword mode and Rho Aias.

Reynard's aura was lower than Flash's, and Weiss could see that Flash was methodically working his way to victory, taking the blows upon his shield and creating openings for his own blade; there was no doubt in her mind that, if left alone, he would eventually triumph.

But that didn't mean she couldn't help him along.

Weiss cycled back to hard light dust and once more conjured a set of pale blue glyphs, eight in total, all around her.

She fired a single volley, eight light blue laser bolts flying from her glyphs to strike Reynard, throw him to the floor and take his aura down into the red.

The klaxon sounded once again.

"Reynard Kerak has been eliminated!" Professor Port declared. "The duo of Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry wins the match!"

There was a moment of silence in the arena, then, beginning quietly, like the first stirrings of distant thunder, then growing louder and louder like a tempest all around them, the booing began.

Jeers fell down like rain. Weiss turned in place, looking this way and that, as if, by turning, she could see the friendly voice she could not hear. She could see Rainbow Dash with her distinctive hair, but if she was cheering, the sound of it was drowned out by the sound of the crowd's disdain that rained down so thick, despite the relative paucity of the crowd, that it threatened to fill the arena and sweep both Weiss and Flash away.

I suppose that answers that question: I preferred it when they were indifferent.

And to think I once thought that I might win the crowd over.

As Sabine got to her feet, she laughed darkly, but not bitterly as Weiss might have expected, unless it was with bitter satisfaction. "Congratulations on your victory, Miss Schnee," she said, and the strong sarcasm coating her words was made even stronger by the mocking curtsy that she offered Weiss. "May you have joy of it."

“Two victories,” Twilight said. “Two victories, and still, they boo her! That last win was nearly flawless.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rainbow said, shaking her head from side to side. “As much as we might wish it otherwise, the wins don’t matter. In fact, the wins — especially this win — kind of make it worse. The narrative has been set.”

“The … narrative?” Blake repeated. “This isn’t a story; this is Weiss’ life.”

“This is the Vytal Tournament, and the fact that it’s really happening doesn’t mean that we don’t tell stories about it,” Rainbow replied. “Or else, why do people root for underdogs?” She paused, and then continued on more quietly. “Who is the hero, who is the villain, who is the underdog?”

“And so, Weiss, she’s the villain?” Sunset asked. “I get what you’re talking about in the abstract — our lives are made of stories after all — but … Weiss?”

“Unfortunately … I can see why,” Blake said softly. “It isn’t right, and Weiss doesn’t deserve it, but I can see why.”

“Right,” Rainbow muttered. “She’s become the villain of this whole tournament, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Hope You Didn't Spend Money (New)

Hope You Didn’t Spend Money

Lieutenant Martinez answered her scroll, because it was from her husband, so of course she was going to answer.

“Hey, Mike, is everything okay back there?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, darlin’, don’t worry about us,” Mike replied in a soft, genial tone. “Any chance that you can make it home soon?”

Martinez made a kind of gargling noise with her throat. “I … I dunno, honey.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I got no leads, no suspects—”

“Seems like there isn’t much more than you can do up there,” Mike observed.

That … was not entirely incorrect, unfortunately; for sure, it was more true than Martinez liked, but at the same time, it wasn’t quite true enough to justify her going home yet, even if this was supposed to be her day off.

“Yeah,” she said, “but I still have to finish interviewing some more witnesses, and then I have to go back to the office and write it all up—”

“Are you going to make it home for dinner?”

“Yes, yes, I will definitely make it home for dinner,” Martinez promised. “They don’t get to drag me in on my vacation — a vacation they told me to take — and have me stay late doing paperwork. I will be home for dinner, you can bet on it.”

“I could probably get good odds on that.”

“Ah-ha, ah-ha, you should resign from the Coast Guard and do stand up comedy, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Probably you did, the last time I made a joke like that,” Mike replied easily.

Martinez snorted. Considering that most husbands would have left her by now for working too long, or too much, or leaving him going stag at work socials because she had to go kick down a door somewhere … if all that he did was make the occasional crack about it, then she was a very lucky woman indeed.

“I’ll be back,” she repeated. “What is it?”

“Tonight, Madame,” Mike said, his voice slipping into an appropriately culinary accent, “I will be cooking chicken arrabiata with chorizo and bacon, on a bed of spinach and half-roast potatoes.”

“Oh, my god, I’m drooling already,” Martinez said.

“Best wipe your mouth before interviewing your next witness,” Mike suggested. “You’re not letting those kids give you any trouble, are you?”

“I’m trying not to,” Martinez said. “I just had some Mistralian kid half my age correct me on the pronunciation of her name like I was some knuckle-dragging moron. I don’t know how they haven’t had a revolution over there.”

“I think they did, didn’t they?”

“Well, they didn’t do a very thorough job of it,” Martinez said sharply.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Yes, but not over the scroll,” Martinez said. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight, over a couple of glasses of whisky. And whatever you’re drinking.”

Mike laughed. “I’ll have them waiting for you when you get home too,” he promised. “Listen, the reason that I actually called you is that I have two little boys here tugging on my trouser leg who have a question to ask you.”

Martinez smiled, although with the call on voice only, neither Mike nor the kids could see it. “Is that right? You’d better put them on, then, before they tear your pants.”

“You got that right,” Mike said. “Hey, kids, it’s your mom.”

“Hey sweeties!” Martinez said into the scroll as she held it up to her face. “What’s up?”

It was Tyler who spoke, “Mom, why are they booing the huntsmen you like?”

Martinez frowned. “What do you mean, Ty?”

“We just watched Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry,” Stuart explained. “You like them, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Martinez said. “I worked with them a little while ago.”

“They won,” Tyler told her. “But everybody’s booing them.”

Martinez rolled her eyes. “Well, you see, the thing is,” she rambled a little bit, “Weiss’ dad is a really famous guy. You know, every time Mom or Dad fills up the car, we have to pay Weiss’ father.”

“Really?” Stuart asked.

“Yeah, really,” Martinez told them. “Only now, a lot of people are mad at Weiss’ dad because of something…” She trailed off, searching for a way to explain it.

“Because of something he did?” Tyler asked.

“Not exactly, honey; it’s more that some people who worked for him did some very bad things, and so, people are mad at Weiss’ dad because he’s the boss, and he’s supposed to know everything that goes on.” And that, Martinez thought, was fair enough; if there had turned out to be a dirty cop in her unit, then she would expect to take the blame for not realising that they were bent; in just the same way, if she lost someone, then she’d rightly be brought to book for that as well. Having rank and position didn’t just mean a pay increase and everybody calling you ‘lieutenant’; it meant taking responsibility when things got screwed up. “And because he’s her dad, they’re mad at Weiss too.”

“But she didn’t do anything, right?” Stuart asked.

“No,” Martinez said, "no she didn’t."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the scroll.

“People are jerks,” said Stuart.

Martinez chuckled. “Unfortunately, you’re right,” she said. “More often than I would like you to be.”

Obviously, most of Team SAPR weren’t waiting for them in the tunnel when they walked off the battlefield — it would have been astonishing if they had been, considering that Weiss had seen them getting off the same airship that her team had gotten on — but Sunset was there, and Rainbow and Blake, and Twilight Sparkle as well, along with Cardin and Russel.

They were all waiting for her and Flash as they left the arena and all its jeering and booing behind, disappearing from the sight of the spectators who had taken such a disliking to them.

They seemed to be struggling to smile, for reasons that didn’t take a genius to understand.

“I’m quite alright,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Really?” Rainbow asked, sounding surprised. “Not at all?”

“Not at all,” Weiss lied, although she hoped it was not too much of a lie, more of an exaggeration really.

She very much hoped so, at least.

Blake’s eyes narrowed, but for the moment, at least, she said nothing.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, clasped her hands together and plastered a rather jovial smile across her face which strained to reach her eyes and almost managed it. “Okay then!” she declared. “In that case: congratulations; that was nearly flawless!”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “Only nearly flawless?”

“Well, you did take a couple of hits,” Rainbow pointed out. “And although it was technically a sweep by you, the fact that it took one hit for you to take out Reynard means that it doesn’t feel like you swept, if that makes any sense.”

“You mean the fact that I didn’t brawl with each member of the opposition in turn like Arslan Altan yesterday means that it doesn’t feel as though I’ve matched her accomplishment.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Rainbow said, a little apologetically.

“That’s fine; it doesn’t feel like I’ve matched her accomplishment either,” Weiss said. Not least because I only had two opponents, not four. “Especially since Flash did a lot more than it seemed like the rest of Team Auburn did for Mistral’s Golden Lion.”

“You’re flattering me, Weiss,” Flash said. “I didn’t do much of anything.”

“You kept your opponent pinned down so that Weiss could face off against Sabine one on one,” Sunset pointed out. “You broke through his shield, and you were winning your fight against him—”

“Before Weiss decided to killsteal,” Russel cut in. “That showed a very selfish and unpleasant side to you.”

He grinned to show that he didn’t mean it maliciously.

“Well, it wasn’t…” Weiss trailed off, before turning back to Flash with an apologetic smile. “No hard feelings, I hope?”

“For what?” Flash asked. “We won the fight; isn’t that what matters?”

“Yes, we did,” Weiss replied. “And Sunset — and Russel — are quite right, by the way; you played your part … invaluably. If it doesn’t feel like I took on the entire enemy force and defeated it myself, it’s because I didn’t; this was a team effort, even if the statistics don’t reflect it.” She paused and could not resist adding, “And besides, I don’t think that the crowd would care whether it felt like I swept all before me or not.”

“So it does bother you,” Blake observed.

“Certainly not,” Weiss declared, putting one hand upon her hip, and tilting her chin so as to stick her nose upwards into the air. “What care have I for the opinion of the fickle multitude, be it so good or bad?”

She could see out of the corner of her eye that nobody looked particularly convinced by that. In fact, they were all, with the very kind exception of Flash Sentry, looking at her with various degrees of scepticism upon their faces.

Sunset exhaled loudly out of her mouth. “You are correct, of course, in theory,” she said. “We all know it. And yet, we crave their approval nonetheless.”

“Not I,” Weiss insisted.

Sunset folded her arms. “Is that so?”

“Well … not as much as I might,” Weiss muttered. She lowered her chin a little. “I must admit it is a little annoying. I am not my father, and even my father wasn’t guilty of anything! To have them … are they allowed to do that? Is there no rule against it?”

“No, I’m afraid there isn’t,” Twilight murmured apologetically. “It isn’t even the first time that the Vytal Festival has been used as the site or expression of political protest; during the very first tournament after the Great War, before the Amity Colosseum was even built, a group of faunus stormed the arena itself, interrupting the one-on-one rounds to protest the deportations to Menagerie.”

“And so they can…” Weiss stopped short of saying ‘and so they can imply that I had something to do with what went on at those facilities’ for fear that Blake and Rainbow Dash — especially Blake — might feel her petty and self-centred if she appeared to care about her own reputation in that matter than the real victims in all of this.

“I see,” she murmured. “I can’t help but feel that it would suit the stated aims of this tournament better if politics were kept out of it, but … if it is legal, then it’s legal. And I did win the match, so I suppose I can’t complain about their behaviour too much. Even so … I suppose I had hoped that I might restore … I had hoped that people might be willing to look at me as myself, as Weiss Schnee, not as a mere limb of my father, to give me a chance and not to just see a chance to vent their frustrations with the SDC.” She took a deep breath. “I will go as far as I can, I will win as many battles as I can, and the dislike of the crowd will not dissuade me from that; but a victory that was accompanied by affection would have been sweeter, I admit.”

“Do you think…?” Rainbow glanced at Blake. “Maybe if we told everyone that Weiss was the one who helped us find out where that SDC facility was, they’d lay off? I mean, without your help, we never would have found Leaf; you’re arguably more of a hero in all of this than we are!”

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you,” Weiss said softly. “While it might, possibly, change the opinions of the people … I doubt it would please my father very much.”

“So he’s one of those,” Cardin muttered.

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “Without knowing exactly what you mean by that, I think he might well be, as you say, one of those. And so I would rather keep my name out of it.”

Twilight frowned. “And so… you’re more afraid of your father than of the crowd?”

“The crowd can only jeer at me in the arena,” Weiss said. “My father… well, let’s just say…” actually, she decided not to say, and simply trailed off. “It’s not important.”

Rainbow frowned. “And so there’s nothing that we can do to change the fact that…” She gestured at the tunnel entrance, and to the arena and the stands beyond. “That.”

Cardin frowned. “I … I might have a way.”

Blake glanced at him. “What is it?”

Cardin didn’t look at her, although thankfully, his reticence appeared to be driven more by embarrassment than by any sense of superiority; his head was too bowed for him to seem superior.

“I … I don’t know if it will work,” he said. “And she might just tell me to get lost — and I’m not sure that I’d be able to blame her if she did, and even if she doesn’t, then—”

“Cardin, you’re not selling this very well,” Flash pointed out.

Cardin barked with laughter. “No, I’m really not, am I?” he asked. “Maybe that’s because what I really want is to be told that I don’t have to go through with it, or that I shouldn’t go through with it, or … anything, really, other than that I have a good idea and that I should totally do that. Because I don’t really want to.”

“Then why would you?” Weiss asked.

Cardin shrugged his broad shoulders. “Because … because we are a team, after all, and you’ve been a pretty good leader lately, since … and it isn’t fair that people think of you as the bad guy. I mean, you didn’t even do anything; it’s all just about your father. It doesn’t seem right. And so … I’d like to help, and this is all that I can think of that might help, and so even though I don’t really want to do this, I will try if … if you’d like.”

“Before we ask Cardin to do something that he really, really, doesn’t want to,” Blake said, “perhaps my mother could help? She could … make a statement—”

“Saying what?” Weiss asked. “Please don’t be mean to me?”

Blake cleared her throat. “When you put it like that…” she muttered.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow murmured. “I mean … aside from the fact that some people would probably just call your mom a house faunus.”

She grumbled something under her breath, giving Weiss a moment to wonder what a house faunus was supposed to be. A faunus with a house? A faunus in a house? And why was it supposed to be a bad thing? It seemed like a perfect decent and respectable for a faunus; didn’t everyone want to have a house of their own, to live in and to pass on to their children? Would anyone use ‘house human’ as an insult? No, so then why ‘house faunus,’ and why would it matter if someone called Lady Belladonna that?

Weiss wouldn’t have shown her ignorance by asking for an explanation in any case, but Rainbow went on, which meant that she had no opportunity to do so in any case. “And even if they didn’t, and even if Lady Belladonna could say something that would help, and I’m not sure what that would be … I’m not sure if it would be a good idea for your mother to announce the fact that she’s here in Vale. With the way things are … I’m afraid that she might be making herself a target.” She looked at Weiss. “I mean, no offence, Weiss, but—”

“I understand,” Weiss said, smiling slightly to show that she understood, even agreed. “My getting on the wrong side of the crowd in the Amity Colosseum is no reason for Blake’s mother to put herself in harm’s way. I’m not worth it. Or at least, my reputation is not.” She paused for a moment. “Cardin, you had a suggestion.”

“I’m not sure now,” Cardin muttered. “I was going to say that maybe … maybe I could try and … maybe if Skystar would listen to me for a few minutes and didn’t just run away or scream or slap me, I could, maybe, ask her to … but it’s like Rainbow Dash said, what would she say? What’s anyone going to say?”

“She could appeal to the values of the Vytal Festival?” Twilight suggested. “I mean, she is the Amity Princess, after all.”

“How much do people really care about the values of the Vytal Festival, as opposed to paying them lip service?” Sunset asked.

“That’s a cynical question,” Twilight muttered.

“That doesn’t make me wrong,” Sunset replied. “The crowd on the stands singing that Mistralian song about thirty years of hurt doesn’t care about cooperation between kingdoms; they just want a trophy to put in their otherwise barren and cobweb-infested cabinet. Anyway, Cardin’s right, I’m not sure what Skystar could say to calm the waters.” She looked at Cardin. “Although it was…” She thrust her hands into her pockets. “It was very brave of you, to even offer to do it.”

“Or stupid,” Cardin muttered. His jaw clenched. “If there is any point in talking to her about it, maybe you should be the one to do it; she seems to still like you.”

“Mmm, well,” Sunset muttered.

“Is there any point in anyone talking to her about it?” Russel asked.

“I…” Weiss trailed off. “I doubt it. I appreciate your efforts to find something that will alleviate my discomfort, but I don’t think that having an authority figure stand up and tell everyone to be nice to me is the way forward.” She fell silent for a moment or more. “I’m not sure that there is a way forward, except to continue as I have done and fight as hard as I can and hope that even if I cannot impress the crowd, there will at least be some of those against whom I fight who will be impressed with my efforts.”

“And … the rest?” Blake asked. “The restoration of the Schnee name, the—”

Weiss laughed. “It might be a little soon after the scandal to take that on, and in the wake of what came out, that was always going to be harder than even I expected. But I’m still young, and the SDC isn’t going anywhere. I have time to work on that and, hopefully, for some of the anger at the Schnee Dust Company to fade. For now, if a record of victories, however unwelcome to the public, is all that I can achieve…” She smiled. “Then there’s nothing too bad in settling for that, is there?”

“The next match, between Jessica Tubal and Lance Gobham of Beacon and Arslan Altan and Bolin Hori of Haven, will commence in ten minutes!” Professor Port announced.

Arslan won her match, kicking off Haven's day with a victory — or Mistral's day with a second victory, judging by the way that all of the Haven students had reacted to Pyrrha and Sunset's triumph over Trixie and Starlight — as well as putting an end to Beacon's winning streak. According to Pyrrha, who had watched the match, it was not of Arslan Altan’s best showings, if only because the pair from Team JGLR were not the toughest opponents that she’d ever faced. Still, a victory was a victory, for Arslan and for Haven; it raised the spirits of the Haven students yet higher.

That was followed by Neon Katt — and her partner Flynt Coal — regaining some glory for Atlas after two consecutive defeats, by winning the first match of the day for the northern academy. That turned out to be the beginning of a bad streak for Shade, whose second team to enter the arena was also defeated — by Sun and Neptune, in a second victory for Haven, albeit one that was not, unfortunately, as celebrated by the rest of the student body. No doubt, the love of the crowd was ample compensation for the ambivalent attitude of their fellow huntsmen.

"Does it bother you at all the way that they've taken Sun to their hearts?" Rainbow asked Blake, as the two of them sat in the stands watching Sun and Neptune do a dance that Twilight would have been ashamed of in the middle of the arena, waving their arms in the air and thrusting their chests at one another like … Rainbow wanted to say it was like mating baboons, but she wasn't actually sure that was right. It might be gorillas. Or she might be a hundred percent wrong about it being anything like any apes or monkeys at all. She'd have to ask Fluttershy about it.

"Hey, Fluttershy, what animal is it that thrusts its chest out towards someone else when it wants to mate."

"Um, I think that might be humans, actually."

"Bother me? No," Blake said. "Why should it bother me, isn't that the point? Didn't we just talk to Weiss about how unfortunate it is that people aren't taking her to their hearts?"

"Yeah, but it's the specific way in which they're taking Sun to their hearts that I'm talking about," Rainbow said. She pointed across the arena. "Look, there, there's a girl with a life-sized picture of Sun's abs."

Blake leaned forward. "Really? You have better eyesight than me."

"In the daylight, maybe," Rainbow said. "Trust me, it's there."

"And during the first match, there were boys and girls with their Pyrrha pictures blown up to be as big as their own heads," Blake pointed. "And Sunset pictures, come to that."

"Yeah, and I guarantee you that Jaune doesn't like it," Rainbow said. "He won't say anything about it because he doesn't want to seem like That Guy, but I guarantee, I absolutely guarantee, that he isn't happy that people see his girlfriend that way."

"I'm not sure that Pyrrha likes it very much either," Blake murmured.

"Quit changing the subject," Rainbow insisted. "Does it really not bother you?"

"No," Blake said simply.

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "No? Not at all?"

"Not at all," Blake repeated. After taking a second, she went on, "And I think you're wrong about Jaune too, by the way. He's not as insecure as you're making him out to be."

"Who said anything about insecurity?"

"What other reason would there be to get upset about that?" Blake asked. "I mean, if Sun didn't like it the way that Pyrrha doesn't like it, that's one thing — they have the right to object to being … commodified, for want of a better word — but me? Jaune?" She took a second before she went on, "If Sun was going to leave me, he would have done it by now. God knows I've given him cause. But he hasn't, so he won't, and so what do I have to worry about from some girl with a placard?" She smirked. "Besides, I can—"

"Stop," Rainbow said, holding up one hand. "Just … stop. Stop now. I know what you're about to say, and I don't want to hear it." She shook her head and ignored Blake's little chuckle.

Rainbow watched Sun's dorky dance with Neptune for a few seconds longer. "You know what I worry about?" she said.

"What?" asked Blake.

"I really hope that Mantle doesn't grind him down," Rainbow said. "Turn him cynical and bitter and a dick like so many other people down there. Or worse."

"That won't happen," Blake said. "Not to Sun. Not ever."

"I hope you're right about that," Rainbow said with a sigh. "I really, really hope you're right."

After the victories won by Sun and Neptune and Neon and Flynt against Shade teams, there was a real danger that Shade Academy might be swept out of the competition completely; however, Umber Gorgoneion and Reap Matthias managed to forestall that outcome by defeating their Beacon opponents to claim the first and only possible Shade victory of the round.

And so, with only two matches remaining, Beacon Academy had claimed two victories, Haven two, and Atlas and Shade only one apiece. If the pairs from teams BALL and VLCA could win their matches, then Haven would achieve a nigh unprecedented four victories from four matches in the second round and have the potential to dominate the one-on-one round the next day. However, if Yang and Nora and Rainbow and Ciel could win their bouts, then Beacon would go into tomorrow leading with three competitors, and Atlas would regain a smidgeon of lost pride by drawing level with Haven in sending two huntsmen each through to the finals.

It was time for Yang and Nora's match.

“I’m a little surprised by this, to be honest,” Swift Foot said.

“Surprised by what?” Terri-Belle asked, as she settled down.

“The children of Titus Andronicus competing in this tournament,” Swift Foot replied. “I mean, their family always shunned the arena, unlike … practically any other family of note with any connection to arms or combat. Their father was a famous warrior, and yet, none of the children competed in the ring, in any tournament. It looked like a point of principle.”

“I believe it was a point of principle,” Terri-Belle said. “Certainly, Alexius told me so. His family were huntsmen, not performers; defenders of the people, not entertainers of them.”

“Alexius,” Swift Foot murmured. “Was he—?”

“Yes,” Terri-Belle said quickly. “But before he … before that, we were students at Haven together.”

“One of your teammates?”

“No,” Terri-Belle said. “No, his team, Team Amarylis, had the room across the corridor from us, but for that reason, we were good enough friends … and rivals too.”

Swift Foot frowned. “I know I was only young, but … I have vague memories of the friends that you brought over, but I don’t remember him at all.”

“Yes, well,” Terri-Belle murmured.

The truth was, the unspoken truth that nevertheless she sensed, was that their father had not been particularly fond of the Andronicus family. It sounded absurd, that the Steward of Mistral should be jealous of the most minor of patrician houses, but nevertheless, Terri-Belle believed it to be the case that he had been … envious or afraid or both; the acclaim that old Titus Andronicus had won as a huntsman had troubled him. Threatened him.

He had not been the only one. It was a sad fact of Mistral, an exceedingly sad fact, that when Alexius and twenty of the other sons of Titus had fallen, one after another, falling in battle against the grimm or the brigands who roamed Anima, there had been many in the high halls of the upper slopes who rejoiced at it, and rejoiced all the more when Titus retired to his house in what some called grief and others madness.

So it was with anyone who threatened to grow too tall or burn too bright: it would be devoutly hoped that they would burn out.

I suppose we should be grateful that the days when such people would be ‘encouraged’ to burn out, when the tall stems would have the garden scissors taken to them, are gone and left in the past now.

Even so, it is little wonder that our society is stuck in the mud with such a crab-bucket attitude to greatness.

“In any event,” Terri-Belle said, “he told me that his family did not compete in our Mistralian tournaments because they were a huntsman family. Not a warrior family, certainly not a gladiator family, but a huntsman family, specifically.”

“And yet, here are Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus,” Swift Foot remarked, “fighting in a tournament.”

“A huntsman tournament, specifically,” Terri-Belle pointed out. “It may be that they believe that there is a difference between this — an event specifically for aspiring huntsmen — and other tournaments. Or … it may be that they wish to keep their family name in the public eye, to remind the people that in spite of the losses they have suffered and the condition of their father, the House of Andronicus is not yet vanquished.”

“Or both, I suppose,” Swift Foot said. “They did well yesterday, but then so did their opponents.”

“Did they?” Terri-Belle asked.

“Yes, but you didn’t see that because you only watch the Mistral matches,” Swift Foot said pointedly.

“I didn’t see it because I have work to do,” Terri-Belle replied. “Who are they up against?”

“The last Beacon pair who haven’t fought yet: Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Team Iron,” Swift Foot explained. “They fought against the appropriately named Team Bronze of Shade yesterday and beat them handily. Admittedly, Team Bronze weren’t brilliant, but even so, Team Iron did well against them.”

“Yang Xiao Long?” Terri-Belle murmured. “Her name sounds Mistralian.”

“Unfortunately, if you’re thinking that we could take credit for her somehow, that’s a no-go,” Swift Foot said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I had the same thought,” Swift Foot replied. “That she might be a Mistralian, obviously not from a good family, but a commoner perhaps, who had chosen to go to Beacon instead of Haven. But they’ve got all the competitor biographies available online, and it says that she was born on Patch.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere in Vale,” Swift Foot explained.

“I see,” Terri-Belle muttered. “And yet, that is a Mistralian name.”

“I did some more looking,” Swift Foot said, “and you aren’t the first person to think that, either. Apparently, there is Mistralian ancestry in her family, from back before the Great War.”

“Ah,” Terri-Belle said, understanding. So, the Xiao Longs were a family who had moved out of Mistral before the war, probably because they opposed the policies forced on Mistral by the alliance with Mantle. They were not the only ones, but it would be very difficult to point to them as examples of Mistralian success in that case. “Can’t be helped, I supposed.”

“The girl who’s going to be fighting with her is Mistralian, though,” Swift Foot went on. “Nora Valkyrie.”

“Really? It isn’t as obvious from her name,” Terri-Belle pointed out. “Where does she come from?”

“I’m not sure,” Swift Foot said. “Her biography just says that she’s from Mistral. I think … she might be a child of the wind.”

“Really?” Terri-Belle asked. “That’s … commendable, I suppose, that she has made it to the Vytal Tournament itself, but at the same time, in spite of her accomplishments and the effort it must have taken to attain them … not very useful.”

‘Child of the wind’ was probably the kindest term for what were otherwise called such things as street rats, vagrants, the forsaken. Often, they were the orphaned survivors of grimm attacks; sometimes, their parents didn’t want them. In any case, if they were not found quickly and taken in — and in a land as large as Anima, that did not always happen — then they became wanderers, drifting from place to place, unwanted anywhere. Often … usually, they did not survive very long. If they didn’t starve, then the grimm would get them. That this Nora Valkyrie had both survived and thrived … she must have a great deal of tenacity and a lot of luck.

On the other hand, much as it perhaps should have been otherwise … tenacity and luck was not enough to get you admired in Mistral. No one would cheer for a child of the wind; the prejudice against them — thieves, beggars, bringers of the grimm with their sorrow and negativity, the feral subjects of a hundred horror stories and urban legends, filthy, disgusting — was too great, that what would have been admirable if they had grown up even on the lower slopes became abhorrent in them.

Sad to say, there would be no propaganda success gotten out of Nora Valkyrie, yet nevertheless … Terri-Belle could not say so, but she found herself rooting for the girl anyway, even against the children of a celebrated Mistralian huntsman.

“So they’ve got a plan, right?” Ruby asked as she sat down in the stands with Ren, Blake, Pyrrha, and Jaune. Sunset was down below with Amber and Dove — along with Penny, who wasn’t too fussed about watching Yang fight either. Which Ruby felt was a bit of a pity; it would be nice if they could become closer, not least since Penny might even be joining Team YRBN, or YRPN, however that would be pronounced, next year.

But at the same time, someone did need to keep an eye on Amber, and two heads were better than one in that regard, especially since the fairgrounds had really started to get crowded this afternoon.

So, Penny would miss out. Ruby would sure that she would miss something pretty special, but there it was; there wasn’t a lot to be done about it.

Provided that Yang and Nora had a plan.

“Nora has reach, with both the hammer and the grenade launcher,” Ren explained, “and she will use it. If the enemy seek to close the distance, Yang will be there to stop them and protect her. Once Nora’s grenades have softened up the opposition, they will attack, Yang leading and Nora providing support. Close support. Very close support.”

“How close is 'very close'?” Ruby asked.

“I hope Yang can duck low enough to avoid Magnhild,” Ren said.

“Yeah, that is pretty close,” Ruby said quietly. “But, I mean, it sounds like an okay plan, right?”

“A lot depends on how these Andronicus siblings fight,” Blake murmured. “Pyrrha, you know them—”

“I know their family and its reputation,” Pyrrha corrected her, “but if you want details on their weapons and fighting style … that, I’m afraid, I cannot provide.”

“I guess there isn’t a family style that they all adhere to,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha shook her head. “There isn’t really any such thing. There are various schools of the martial art, and families will often adhere to one of them, but there is no specific way of fighting that is the property of the Nikos family or the Andronicus family. My mother was a dual wielder, but I fight with a shield.”

“You didn’t want to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” asked Jaune.

“My teacher, Chiron, did not hold with dual wielding,” Pyrrha said, shaking her head. “He called it a foolish vanity.”

“So what we should be asking is 'who trained Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus?'” Ren said.

“Perhaps, yes,” Pyrrha replied. “Unfortunately, I don’t know the answer to that either. But, as huntsman and huntress who have never felt the need to so much as dabble in the arena, they may be free from the … they may not cleave to history as much as many other Mistralian warriors do. They may be more technologically advanced than you might expect from a Haven student. I do not necessarily say they will, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it turned out to be the case.”

“Less swords and shields, more guns?” Ruby guessed.

“Exactly,” Pyrrha said. “Firearms are often seen as a rather gauche weapon for the arena; the crowd much prefer melee weapons — which are safer, in any case, for the aforementioned crowd — and for the battles to be resolved at close quarters. And on top of that … our heritage is one of fighting with sword and spear and shield, the way our ancestors won undying glory.”

“Neptune uses a gun,” Blake pointed out.

“Neptune’s family are great swimming champions, but they have no martial pedigree,” Pyrrha replied. “They have no stake in Mistral’s old traditions that they should seek to uphold them. That is not the case for most, who are either born into such traditions or seek to ape them in order to be accepted as part of the elite.”

“And that’s why Miló’s rifle mode is its weakest,” Ruby said.

“I would not call my rifle weak,” Pyrrha said, sounding a little bit … kind of offended, but not as bad as that sounded, but something like it. “But, yes, I don’t deny that my spear and sword are my primary weapons. My point is that, if anyone from Haven were to break with that trend, I would expect it to be the scions of Andronicus, who have little care for such shows but seek only to vanquish the grimm and defend the people. I just hope Yang and Nora are prepared for an enemy who may shoot back.”

In the tunnel beneath the stands, Yang grinned at Nora.

“Are you ready for this?”

“Oh yeah, you bet!” Nora declared. “Let’s kick some Mistral ass!”

Yang frowned. “Aren’t you from Mistral?”

Nora blinked. “Well, yeah, I guess,” she said. “But I’m an equal-opportunity ass-kicker.”

Yang laughed. “Well, if you’re so comfortable with dishing it out to everyone and everything, maybe I should send you into the one-on-one round.”

“Nah, you’re good,” Nora said. “I love this hammer of mine, but it’s kind of clumsy to swing it around sometimes.”

"Well, if you insist," Yang said. "We should probably get out there before the crowd starts to get impatient."

Nora held out her hand, fingers slightly curled, as though she wanted to do some impromptu arm-wrestling before the match began.

Yang grinned and slammed her palm into Nora's hand, the two girls' fingers closing around one another's hands.

"Let's do this!" they chorused, before they both turned towards the tunnel mouth and walked out of the shadow and into the light.

Their opponents, Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus of Team BALL, were likewise leaving their own tunnel on the other side of the arena, sparing Yang and Nora from having to wait for them, and the two pairs crossed the plain metallic surface almost simultaneously, coming to a standstill in the central hexagon, while the cheers of the crowd blew on them like wind from all directions, the cheers for Yang and Nora mingling with the cheering for the Andronicus siblings until it was impossible to tell who was supporting who, unless you could catch a whiff of that Mistralian song floating above the general hubbub.

Lucius Andronicus had a short fur hat on his head that was only a few inches high, even if it did cover most of his dark hair, so that you could only tell that it was dark because of the bits that came down around his ears. He had a round face with a heavy brow overhanging his golden eyes. He wore a red cloak, fastened around the neck with a gold clasp shaped like a fox's head, over a white t-shirt that left his arms bare, displaying the tattoos that he had on both his arms: on his right arm, a spear wreathed in flames that swirled and danced around it, with the tip pointing downwards towards his hand; while on the left arm, what looked like waves, dancing waves of dark blue and sea green rippling up and down as they travelled down his arm, and amongst the waves were written names in black ink, a lot names, twenty-one names, maybe. Yang couldn't read the names, but the number of them suggested what they were. And all of this in addition to the snarling beowolf's head tattooed on his right cheek. His pants were the brown of wood, and his boots were black and rugged looking. In his hands, he held a pair of … Yang wasn't entirely sure what they were; they looked a little bit like large candles; were they flamethrowers then? Or maybe nunchucks? Or both?

Or just red batons that he'll try and hit me with, Yang thought. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

He wasn't wearing an honour band, Yang noticed, which probably wasn't something that she would have noticed a year ago, but she had spent enough time around Mistralians to notice it now. Admittedly, it wasn't something that they all had — Pyrrha's friend Arslan didn't have one, but Yang was fairly certain that was because she was common as muck and had never had a fancy master to give her one — but Yang would have expected someone from a well-known family to have one. It didn't matter, but at the same time, Yang couldn't help but wonder why he didn't.

Lavinia was a little taller than her brother, with honey blond hair falling loosely down behind her shoulders; her eyes were golden, like her brother's, and her face was … well, it was a pretty face, no doubt about that, and it remained so in spite of the fact that, like Ruby's friend Amber, there were scars on both cheeks that were still just about visible despite the make-up she was wearing to conceal them. She, too, wore a cloak, and although her cloak was forest green, it fastened with a fox-head clasp just like her brother's; Yang guessed it was a family symbol. She wore a sunshine yellow t-shirt with red detailing on the sleeves and waistline, and a red skirt over green trousers and high brown riding boots. She didn't have any visible weapons on her, at least none that Yang could see.

Her arms were both prosthetic, below the elbow on the left but past it higher towards the shoulder on the right. The metal was plain to see, undisguised except for the white bandage strips wrapped around her hand like a boxer might wrap around their knuckles before putting on their gloves, but it was painted in patches, strips of burning red and yellow on the right, softer green and brown upon the left. Unlike her brother, Lavinia was wearing an honour band: a golden armband above her left elbow, with what looked like a decoration of beowolves marching in a ring around it.

Lavinia smiled and began to sign out words, her fingers moving deftly to form shape after shape. It's a pleasure to meet you both. Win or lose, I hope this will be a fight to remember.

Yang smiled back and signed back too, holding up both hands as she formed the words; her movements weren't quite as swift or deft as Lavinia's, but she thought that she was able to make her meaning plain. I certainly plan on winning, but I also hope to make this one for the books.

The smile remained on Lavinia's face as she signed, I'm mute, not deaf, so you can speak to me, if you'd rather.

I'm fine with this, Yang signed back. Unless that was a polite way of telling me that I'm mangling the words.

Lavinia's smile broadened as she shook her head. Not at all; you're actually doing quite well for someone out of practice.

Who says I'm out of practice?

Your hesitation does.

"Wait a second," Nora said. "Yang, you know sign language?"

"Yeah," Yang said. "I learned it at Signal."

"Why?" asked Nora.

"In case I ever needed to communicate with a deaf or mute person," Yang replied. "Not everyone in danger from the grimm is gonna be able to talk or hear, right?"

"That … makes a lot of sense," Nora acknowledged. "Beacon should offer classes in that!"

"I'll wager that a lot of your fellow students didn't make as much effort as you," Lucius muttered.

“I made an effort,” Yang said, signing it out as she said it.

A chiming sound alerted all four students to the fact that the terrain indicators had just flashed up on the edges of the battlefield and were, even now, cycling through the various options available.

“Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Beacon!” Professor Port announced, as parts of the crowd roared in approval.

Have you noticed that they always announced Beacon first? Lavinia signed.

We are the host school; that has to count for something, Yang signed back. She rolled her shoulders, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as Nora pulled her hammer across her shoulders.

“Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus of Haven!” Professor Port cried, and this time, the roar came from the other parts of the stands.

Lucius raised those whatever-they-were in his hands, so that they were practically level with his face. Flames leapt from the tips of them, making the resemblance to candles even more uncanny but making Yang increasingly certain that they were flamethrowers, with dust canisters concealed within.

Lavinia still gave no sign of any weapon; she just raised her arms into a boxing stance, and like Yang, she got onto her toes and the balls of her feet, swaying in place a little in anticipation.

Yang grinned as she pumped her fists, opening up Ember Celica to reveal the guns concealed within.

Lavinia nodded in approval.

The wheels of the terrain randomisers came to a halt, and all around the four, the surface of the arena disappeared, and four biomes arose to take their place. Behind Lavinia and Lucius rose the savannah and ruin biomes; behind Yang and Nora, the desert and the mountain.

Okay, there’s stuff we can work with here.

Stuff that they can work with too, probably, but we can … work around that.

Once we start our barrage they’ll probably make for the ruins — there’s more cover there than in the savannah — but I bet Nora can knock those buildings down, and then won’t that be fun?

The plan is sound; stick with the plan.

“Three!” Doctor Oobleck yelled.

Lucius twirled his candle-like flamethrowers in his hands.

“Two!” Professor Port’s voice boomed out.

Nora whirled Magnhild above her head, as though it was a competition.

“One!” Doctor Oobleck cried. “Begin!”

Yang stepped forward, sidling closer to Nora as she opened fire with her Ember Celica, fists pumping like she was shadow boxing, each punch causing a booming shot to erupt from one of her vambraces.

She fired at both the siblings, taking intermittent shots first at Lavinia, then at Lucius, then at Lavinia again, but just as Yang had done, Lavinia stepped between her partner and harm. As she did so, she raised her left arm, with its green and brown colour scheme, so that her palm was level with her face and her knuckles were facing outward, and as she did so, a ring of lights upon the back of her hand began to glow pale blue, before a hard-light shield emerged in front of her, on which Yang’s shots struck harmlessly.

The Andronicus siblings began to back away, in the direction of the ruins just as Yang had predicted, with Lavinia using her shield to, well, shield Lucius from Yang’s shots, as they hit the barrier with no effect that Yang could make out.

Pretty advanced tech for a Mistralian, Yang thought.

But let’s see how much it can really take. “Let ‘em have it, Nora!”

Nora had switched Magnhild into its grenade launcher form, and she cackled wordlessly as she raised the gaping barrel into the air and fired.

The grenade flew over Yang’s head, tracing a pink trail through the air as it rose, and then began to fall down onto the Andronicus siblings.

Lavinia took a step back, raising her right arm, the one painted in fiery reds and yellows. A compartment just behind her wrist opened up, and two squat barrels rose up into view. There was a loud bang, a flash from the muzzles, and Nora’s grenade exploded in mid-air.

Nora growled and fired again, and again, and again, grenade after grenade erupting out of Magnhild, flying over Yang’s head as Yang opened fire, Ember Celica blazing so brightly that she could barely see.

But what she could see was … not great. Lavinia half-crouched down, taking cover behind her hard-light barrier, which would have been great if there was any sign that the barrier was going to drop, either because she was taking too much damage or because her dust was going to run out, but Yang couldn’t see any such sign. She was pinned down, maybe, but none of Yang’s shots were getting through, and her right arm reached out from cover again and again to shoot Nora’s grenades down in the air before they landed. The air above the battlefield was filled with more pink smoke than a gender reveal party, and the only thing it was doing was probably making it harder for all the spectators to actually see the fight.

Nora stopped firing.

“Are you out?” Yang called.

“Not quite,” Nora replied. “But I might need the dust for the hammer.” She didn’t mention that the grenades were so clearly not working as to make it pointless to keep on firing.

She didn’t have to; Yang had eyes.

Yang had almost exhausted her first row of dust phials, so she ejected them, sending them clattering to the floor around her feet, and then reloaded by the simple means of pumping her arms very hard, causing the second row of dust phials to move to the front and chamber.

Now, she wouldn’t run out suddenly when they got into close quarters.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she muttered. “Let’s do this.”

She charged forward, and Nora followed behind her with a bellowing warcry on her lips. They attacked with Yang in front and Nora behind, the smaller girl hidden behind Yang except for her giant hammer. Yang took the lead, firing with Ember Celica as she went, not blazing away but letting out a shot here, another there, keeping the pressure on, forcing Lavinia to keep her shield up.

The Andronicus siblings scuttled back towards the edge of the ruins, where they took cover behind a low stone wall. Now, it was Lucius’ turn to take the lead, turning to make a stand behind the wall, while Lavinia retreated further in, towards the shattered shell of a house that dominated the biome.

Yang quickened her pace as Lucius levelled one of his weapons in her direction, and a cone of fire erupted out of it.

Yep, it was a flamethrower alright.

The fire rippled over her; Yang could feel the heat, feel her aura beginning to give way before the fire that consumed it, but she could also feel her semblance activating, feel herself getting stronger and faster as she pressed on through the fire. She leapt through the flames, fists flying, shots firing from Ember Celica to hit Lucius square in the chest and knock him backwards onto the rubble. He rolled to his feet quickly and was ready for Yang as she leaped over the wall and threw a punch.

He blocked it, turning her fist aside with one arm so that punch and shot both failed to connect. Then he hit Yang across the face with his other flamethrower, which was quite sturdy enough that it could serve as a baton too.

Yang’s head snapped sideways as she felt both the impact of the blow and the flame as it scraped across her cheek.

And she felt herself get stronger because of it.

Yang’s eyes did not go red, but her hair was a pale, blazing yellow as she looked back at Lucius with a savage grin on her face.

She fancied that his own face palled a little before she hit him.

Her first punch came downwards, driving him to his knees. Her second was an uppercut to the chin that sent him flying upwards.

He just missed Nora as she jumped over Yang’s head, back arched and Magnhild raised above her, flying towards Lavinia to bring her hammer down upon her head.

Lavinia braced, crossing her arms over her face, her hard-light barrier still projected in front of her.

Magnhild descended with a force that seemed inevitable, shattering the barrier like glass, hitting Lavinia’s crossed arms with a sound like a gong being rung that echoed out from the two of them, a shockwave that rustled through Yang’s golden locks and stirred up the dust that lay on top of the rubble in the biome.

Lavinia’s knees bent, she dropped a little bit closer to the ground, but she stayed on her feet, and though her arms trembled just a bit, that was … a lot less than happened to most people when Nora hit them with her hammer.

Does she have a shock-absorbing semblance, like Flash?

“Incredible!” Doctor Oobleck cried. “And this isn’t even Lavinia’s semblance!”

That’s me told, then.

Nora’s eyes widened as she began to drop towards the ground.

Lavinia smirked as she spun on one toe and kicked Nora in the gut hard enough to send her flying backwards, backwards straight into Yang, and hard enough to carry both of them backwards, out of the ruins and into the central hexagon, where they skidded across the grey surface before coming to a stop in a tangled heap.

Nora groaned. “Ugh. Are her legs robotic too?”

“Nah, I think she’s just doing that focus aura thing that Rainbow Dash does,” Yang muttered.

“If she was doing that, then I’d have broken her aura at the arms,” Nora countered as she rolled off Yang and got to her feet. She shook her head. “I think we might need a new plan.”

Yang got to her own feet in turn. “I think you might be right,” she muttered. “We need to—”

She was interrupted by a growl of thunder. Not a thunderous gunshot, but real thunder … well, real fake thunder, anyway; through some really smart means, the arena could create a fake thunderstorm on top of the mountain the same way that they could create a fake sun above the desert.

A fake thunderstorm complete with lightning.

Yang pointed to the mountaintop, with the storm raging around it. “You need to get up there,” she said.

Nora grinned. “Got it!” Her smile faltered a little. “But what about you?”

Yang shrugged. “You know, I’ll hold them off.” She gestured to the ruins, where Lavinia was helping her brother to his feet. The two of them now had their sights set once more on Yang and Nora.

“You sure about that?” Nora asked. “She kicks really hard.”

“Sure she does, but I’ll make do,” Yang replied. “Come on, it’s me.” She winked.

“Okay,” Nora said, in a voice that was not as full of confidence as Yang would have liked, but at least wasn’t despairing either. “On three?”

“On one,” Yang said. “One! Go!”

Where Yang had led the way in their assault, now, she brought up the rear in their retreat; as Nora ran for the mountain, her legs pounding, Yang hung back, blocking Nora from attack or from sight, running backwards towards the mountain biome.

The Andronicus siblings pursued, with Lavinia in the lead and Lucius following. Lavinia’s shield was down — probably, she couldn’t reactivate it after it had been broken — but she kept her right hand raised, guns blazing. Yang danced as the bullets flew around her, her feet leaping from here to there, trying to dodge without exposing Nora to any fire.

She wasn’t entirely successful — at the dodging part; she covered Nora just fine, but she took a couple of hits, taking her aura down into the yellow. Luckily Lavinia’s gun wasn’t a large enough calibre to knock her off her feet or anything; it staggered Yang backwards, but she was still going in the right way to protect Nora.

The mountain dominated the mountain biome obviously, but while the mountain was surrounded by grass, the ground around was also littered with rocks, smaller than the mountain, of course, but still pretty big.

Big enough.

Yang ignored the bullets nipping at her aura — what didn’t kill you, after all — as she bent down and dug her fingertips into the base of the rock where it met the ground.

She grunted with effort as she heaved. The rock resisted, then it shifted, then all of a sudden, it gave way as Yang wrenched the boulder free out of the ground and with a wordless shout threw it at Lavinia.

Lavinia threw up her arms to protect herself, the boulder shattering on impact, throwing up dust and shards of rock in all directions.

Blinding both the Andronicus siblings for a few crucial moments as Yang flew through the dust cloud to fall on Lavinia.

Lavinia blocked her first punch, just the same way that Lucius had done, turning her hand away so she didn’t get hit and Yang’s shot went wide. Yang kicked her in the leg, which didn’t cut her legs from under but did shake her posture just enough for Yang’s gut punch to land. Lavinia exhaled as she bent double.

Flames leapt from Lucius' wands, roaring across the distance towards Yang, who fell back before them. What didn't kill her might make her stronger, but too much of such strengthening would put her aura into the red. So Yang leapt back, away from the flames that licked out at her like the angry tongue of a hungry grimm.

Lavinia burst through the flames, the red fire dying around her as she threw herself at Yang, fists flying. She snapped out one punch, then another, then a spinning kick, and still, Yang fell back. The second-hand experience of Lavinia's kick had been quite enough.

Lavinia threw another punch. Yang dodged it, weaving deftly to the right, her whole body swaying aside, before she threw a punch of her own with her left hand. Lavinia leaned backwards, back arching, as fist and shot flew harmlessly over her head.

Yang pulled her hand before Lavinia could try and grab it. She spotted Lucius running towards the mountain that Nora was, even now, climbing up towards the storm-wracked peak.

Nope.

Yang retreated back a couple of steps away from Lavinia, and as Lavinia pursued her, Yang leapt up, firing Ember Celica down at the ground beneath her feet, launching herself up, up into the air, over Lavinia's head — and over Lucius too — to land just behind Nora on the lowest slopes of the mountain.

Yang launched herself off this vantage point like a missile, firing Ember Celica behind her for more thrust as she blasted straight at Lucius. She was moving so fast that she barely felt the flames that burst from both his candles; she simply didn't spend enough time within the cones of fire to lose much aura, and his flames certainly weren't strong enough to slow her down. She barrelled through the fire before colliding with him, doing more damage to his aura than to hers as she knocked him clean off his feet and onto the grass as he skidded backwards with her on top of him.

He head-butted her, his head jerking up to collide with her nose and snap her own head back and upwards.

Yang gave it right back at him, and again.

She was about to grab him by the neck — with the intention of hopefully tossing him clean out of the arena — when she felt a pair of cold metallic arms wrapping around her torso, pinning Yang's arms in place as she was bodily pulled off Lucius like a squalling, brawling child restrained by the teacher.

Yang threw her head backwards, and even through her mass of hair, she felt herself hit something, but she might as well have missed for all the good it did in terms of getting herself out of here.

Lucius leapt up off the ground before Yang's lashing feet caught him square in the chest and sent him reeling backwards.

He got up again and aimed both his flamethrowers at Yang. He was willing to burn through Lavinia's aura in order to take her out.

While he was doing that, he wasn't stopping Nora reaching the top of the mountain, but that didn't mean that Yang was just going to hang there and take it.

She thrust her head back again, with all the strength that she could muster, colliding with something with a crunch, even as she kicked backwards with both her legs, flailing with them in the hopes of hitting something.

She writhed and wriggled in Lavinia's vice-like grip.

The flames spurted out of the tips of Lucius' red batons.

A grenade, trailing a pink cloud after it like a comet through the sky, fell down from the mountain to explode at Lucius' feet, blasting him up and sideways, sending him pinwheeling through the air, head over heels.

Nora had not quite gained the top of the mountain, but she stood a little bit below the summit, giving Yang an informal salute with one hand.

"I'd salute back if I had my hands free!" Yang yelled up at her. "So you'll have to settle for a 'thank you'!"

Lavinia threw Yang aside, where she bounced along the grass until she hit a rock near the base of the mountain. Lavinia leapt up, trying to follow Nora up the mountain in spite of her head start, but Yang leapt after her, using the blasts of Ember Celica to propel her faster than Lavinia's legs alone could carry her. The two of them collided in mid-air, grappling with one another as they fell to land in the desert sands.

They rolled away from each other, each having sand in their hair as they scrambled upright.

A quick glance at her aura level confirmed what Yang felt: her aura couldn't take much more of this.

A triumphant cry from behind confirmed that Nora had reached the top of the mountain.

"I HAVE THE POWER!" Nora yelled, and as the thunder rolled, Yang wished that she dared turn her back on Lavinia long enough to see it.

But, while she might not have been turned around to look at Nora, she could see the shadow passing overhead as Nora flew over her, descending on Lavinia Andronicus with hammer raised overhead for the second time.

A second time that was different in a few crucial respects.

Lavinia, her eyes wide, seemed to realise that she wasn't going to be able to tank this hit the way she had the last. She was frantically backing away as Nora fell.

Nora landed hard upon the ground, between Lavinia and Yang. A shockwave rippled out from her approach, spraying sand on both the other two huntresses.

Lavinia, having avoided the direct assault, went on the attack, one fist drawn back. She threw a punch with her right hand.

Nora caught it, one-handed, her pink fingerless glove squeaking a little as she closed her hand around Lavinia's fist.

Nora grinned and cackled through her clenched teeth as she hefted Magnhild in one hand and brought it down upon Lavinia's head.

The blow smacked Lavinia down, face first, into the desert sand, driving her into the sand, her face buried in it, her hair splayed out around her.

A klaxon sounded.

"Lavinia Andronicus' aura has been depleted!" Professor Port announced as sounds of exultation and dismay leapt from the throats of those watching. "She has been eliminated.

Nora let go of Lavinia's hand, which flopped down onto the ground beside her.

Yang bent down and rolled the Mistralian huntress over, so that she was looking up at the sky — and at them. So you can breathe, she signed.

Lavinia's fingers twitched, but she didn't reply.

Yang turned away from her; after all, the battle wasn't finished yet.

Lucius was charging towards them, zig-zagging to try and avoid fire. It was a forlorn gesture in a lot of ways — he didn't have enough aura left to take on Nora even if he did get close to her — but she admired the fact that he wasn't just waiting around to lose but determined to go out swinging.

That didn't stop her from trying to shoot him, fire spouting from the barrels of her Ember Celica as rounds flew across the battlefield. Lucius zigged this way and zagged that, Yang's fire flying past him on either side.

He got closer and closer.

Nora strode forwards.

Lucius crossed into the desert biome.

Nora swung her hammer. Lucius ducked underneath it, turning on one toe, almost twirling around Nora, not moving to attack her at all. It was Yang that he wanted to take down, even if he went down himself after.

Flames trailed from his candle-like weapons as he swung them in a wide arc towards her.

Yang hurled herself forwards, with one hand reaching out to grab his arms, with the other taking the last shot that she might get before his flames engulfed her.

She hit him on the shoulder, spinning him around and, more importantly, taking his aura into the red.

"Lucius Andronicus' aura has been depleted!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie win the match!"

"YEAH!" Yang yelled, raising her arms into the air as the crowd cheered her on, acclaim falling on her from all sides, everybody cheering.

How can Pyrrha just give this up? Yang wondered as she stood with her arms held up in the air, acknowledging the applause, the cheering, the appreciation, the love. How has she not gotten so hooked on this that she can't get enough of it? Was she really that strong, or did she simply not get how incredible this was?

Because it was incredible. All of this … all of this feeling, and all for her. In this place, at this moment, with all this noise ringing in her ears, it didn't matter about Professor Ozpin, it didn't matter that nobody rated her, that nobody wanted her, that she was only invited to join Ruby's secret club at the last moment, that nobody told her any secrets. None of that mattered because, right now, these people loved her, and right now, they were the universe.

"YEAH!" Yang shouted again, laughing for joy as the crowd filled her up with their acclaim.

She turned to Nora and lowered her arms a little, a triumphal gesture turning into the offer of a hug.

It was an offer that Nora accepted eagerly, leaping into Yang's embrace while treating her to a bone-crushing bear hug in return.

"They really love us, don't they?" Nora asked.

"Yeah," Yang said, rubbing her back. "Yeah, I think they really do."

As she let Nora down, Yang noticed Lavinia Andronicus rising unsteadily to her feet.

Despite the circumstances, she had a smile on her face.

Congratulations, she signed. That was a lot of fun.

Author's Note

There will be no new chapter out on Friday as I am away, the next chapter will be out on Monday 25th September

'Cause You're Losing That Bet (New)

'Cause You’re Losing That Bet

Terri-Belle sighed as she and Swift Foot watched Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie acknowledge the acclaim of the crowd.

“Such a pity that we can’t claim them for Mistral,” she murmured. “But one of them is definitely not a Mistralian, and the other…”

The other would not be borne by anyone who matters.

“I thought that the children of Andronicus didn’t disgrace themselves,” Swift Foot ventured. “Lavinia in particular was quite impressive.”

“Indeed,” Terri-Belle agreed. “In terms of raw skill, I would say that there was precious little between her and Yang. Nora was a little more talented than Lucius Andronicus, and the two of them … they were more coordinated, I think. They had a sense of how the battle should go, what should happen next. A rare skill—”

“Like seeing the moves in chess?” Swift Foot asked.

“To an extent, but this skill is rarer,” Terri-Belle said. “It will stand Yang Xiao Long in good stead, I think.” She paused. “But, yes, you’re right, Lavinia Andronicus has nothing to be ashamed of. I shall definitely try and get them for the Imperial Guard once they graduate. In fact, I might offer to make them huntsmen early so I can get her now.”

Swift Foot looked across the room at her. “You think she’s ready? You think they’re both ready?”

“I fear that if I offered advancement only to Lavinia, then she might refuse on behalf of her insulted brother,” Terri-Belle replied. “And frankly, I need all the help I can get.”

“But if they’re not ready, then…” Swift Foot trailed off for a moment. “Aren’t you just setting them up to … to…”

“To die?”

Swift Foot nodded. “As their brothers did,” she said.

“And what is 'ready'?” Terri-Belle asked. “Who is ready? What is it about this arbitrary line, the end of four arbitrary years, that separates the ready from the not?”

“Four years is the end of the curriculum,” Swift Foot pointed out. “Are you saying that’s arbitrary?”

“I’m saying that I’ve known very few huntsmen or huntresses who were genuinely so much improved at the end of four years at Haven that I couldn’t imagine them becoming huntsmen or huntresses sooner,” Terri-Belle said. “Some are ready ere they set foot in one of the four academies. And even those who did some growing … four years of growing?”

“What about you?” Swift Foot asked. “When were you ready?”

Terri-Belle considered that for a moment, trying to cast her mind back and create an honest evaluation of herself: who she had been and who she had become.

“By second year,” she said. “First year, I was, quite frankly, a mess, but Professor Lionheart soon set me straight. I’m not sure how much more I learned in the last two years.”

“That might say more about you than it does about Haven or the curriculum,” Swift Foot said softly.

Terri-Belle stared at her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Swift Foot held up her hands, even as a slight smile turned up the corner of her mouth. “A jest. A jest, that is all.”

“Hmm,” Terri-Belle muttered. “Would you wait?”

“What?”

“If I were to offer to make you a huntress, right now,” Terri-Belle said. “If I, or someone else, were to bid you take up your sword and defend Mistral, would you do it? Or would you say ‘no sister, no father, no sir, I am but a girl of sixteen and have my four years schooling to get through first’?”

Swift Foot was quiet for a moment, turning her head a little bit so that it was hard to see her face beyond her mass of wavy turquoise hair that fell down so long all around her.

“I … would accept,” she said softly. “And I would welcome your trust in me.” She looked at Terri-Belle. “Are you offering to make me a huntress?”

“No,” said Terri-Belle. “You are not ready yet.”

Swift Foot folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” Terri-Belle told her. “And in any case, Father would not think you ready; at least, I do not think he would. But Lavinia … to be frank, I think that all three huntresses that we just watched are ready. I see very little that any of them will gain from two or three more years of schooling.”

Swift Foot frowned, but in the event, she chose not to press the point but instead returned her attention to the television. “So,” she said, with a bit of a huff in her breath as she said it, “Beacon will send three fighters through to the one-on-one round. Shade only one. Haven has lost its chance to send more huntsmen through than any other school. If Cicero Ward the Young and Lily Cornelia win this next match, then we, too, will send three fighters through, as many as Beacon, and more than Atlas which will send only one.”

“While if they are defeated, then we and Atlas both will send two huntsmen through to the final round tomorrow,” Terri-Belle said. “That is … not so bad. It is better than some hoped for at the start of the tournament, though none will admit it now. Rather, all will say that they always believe we could do it … right up until the moment where we do not do it, and then, everyone will recall sagely how they knew it was foolish to get our hopes up.” It had been exactly the same in her year, during her run at the title. Everyone had believed she could do it, right up until they had, with the cosy benefit of hindsight, never believed that she could do it.

She didn’t mind that they had not believed — to be a fan of Haven was to grow accustomed to disappointments — but it did irk her a little bit that everyone felt the need to pretend otherwise — or to lie, to put it another way.

“Do you think that Cicero and Cornelia will win?” Swift Foot asked. “I mean, their opponents are two from the team who defeated Team Jasmine yesterday.”

“Yes, it’s an unfortunate match-up,” Terri-Belle agreed. “But we can hope. I’m sure that, inspired by the words of our good Councillor Ward, the Haven students will fight bravely, at the least. ‘Live as brave men, and if fortune is adverse, front its blows with brave hearts.’ Whatever else may be said of the Councillor, he does know how to turn a phrase.”

“But not, perhaps, to live up to one,” Swift Foot murmured. “When was the last time he did anything brave?”

“Some might say that it takes courage to face some of the men he has prosecuted in court,” Terri-Belle pointed out. “Or to face those who are prosecuting the men he has defended. There are more kinds of courage than can be found upon the battlefield.”

“I know,” Swift Foot said, but quietly and with a touch of contrition in her voice. The contrition did not survive the cheeky grin that spread across her face. “Hey,” she said, “if Cicero the younger is defeated, do you think that his father will publish a letter on how to bear up after defeat, or will he publish the letter about how to respond to triumph that he would have sent his son if he had won?”

“I feel as though there is an unkind jest there,” Terri-Belle murmured. “Councillor Ward is a Councillor of Mistral—”

“He’s also a bit of a blowhard,” Swift Foot said. “Yes, he writes well, but gods, he likes the sound of his own voice. Or he likes to see his own words set down in print, anyway, whether he spoke them or not. This is a man who published a courtroom speech he didn’t give in defence of a man who was convicted.”

“But a Councillor of Mistral, nonetheless, and one who deserves better than to be mocked by a mere girl,” Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot bowed her head. “As you say, Captain.” She paused for a moment. “In any case, his son was skilled enough yesterday.”

Terri-Belle nodded. “I have heard,” she said, “that he is not the best student at Haven—”

“But that doesn’t matter, according to you.”

“Nobody likes a sophist,” Terri-Belle instructed her. “My point is, or was going to be, that although, as I have heard, he is not the best student, he and his team have already triumphed once, so who is to say that they cannot do so again?”

“And so, we began the day with Canterlot Alumni, and we end the day with Canterlot Alumni,” Vice Principal Luna declared. “At least we are unambiguously clear on who to root for this time.”

Principal Celestia chuckled. “Indeed. Indeed. I have every confidence in Rainbow Dash. From what we saw of these Haven students yesterday, I don’t think they’re a match for her.”

“Hmm,” Luna murmured.

“You doubt it?” Celestia asked. “You doubt Rainbow Dash?”

“I think she has made a mistake, bringing Soleil into the round with her,” Luna said. “I would have preferred to see more of that Polendina girl.”

“She did seem to possess quite a talent,” Celestia allowed. “But I’m sure that Rainbow Dash had her reasons.”

“I hope so,” Luna replied, “for her sake, at the very least.”

“Leaf!” Veil yelled. “They’re about to start!”

Leaf, loitering outside the open door to the apartment, hastily stubbed out the cigarette that she’d been smoking and rushed inside. The door slid shut behind her.

“You know you really shouldn’t litter the tunnel like that,” Veil told her.

“Won’t a robot come along and clean it up?” asked Leaf.

“That’s not the point,” Veil said. “It’s about having some civic pride in where we live.”

“Okay, I’ll go and pick it up,” Leaf said. “But after this match, because I don’t want to miss any of Rainbow kicking ass.”

“I imagine they’ll be starting soon, sir,” Winter said quietly.

“Yes, Schnee, I imagine they will,” Ironwood replied.

For a moment, there was quiet in the CIC. Not silence, of course, but the ambient, calm, orderly quiet of professionals who knew what they were doing getting on with their assigned tasks in an orderly manner, devoid of fuss. The quiet of footsteps on the deck, of questions asked and answered, orders given and acknowledged, the quiet of a lack of alarm or panic.

The quiet of good order.

Winter said, “You know, sir, we can afford for you to step away for a short period, if you wish. The grimm haven’t advanced, it doesn’t appear as though anything is going to happen, and either I or Major Fitzjames can alert you immediately if it does.”

“I can, sir,” Fitzjames said. “Since the Valish have put a leash on us and won’t take it off, we’re all rather … marking time at the moment, in limbo. There’s nothing happening that requires the commanding general’s presence.”

“Am I cramping your style, Fitzjames?” Ironwood asked, with a touch of amusement in his voice.

“No, sir,” Fitzjames said immediately. “But we all know that you … if you wanted to observe—”

“No, thank you,” Ironwood said. “I appreciate your concern, both of you, but it’s quite unnecessary.”

“Sir,” Winter said. “You allowed me to—”

“Yes, Schnee I did,” Ironwood said, before she could finish. “But you aren’t the commanding officer. Not yet, anyway.”

“No, sir,” Winter murmured.

“In any case,” Ironwood said, “I have my yeoman recording the match for me.”

Fitzjames chuckled.

“I’m sure they’ll give good account of themselves, sir,” Winter said.

“I agree,” Ironwood said. There was a part of him that mildly regretted that fact that he wouldn’t get the chance to see Penny in action, but there was another part of him that was glad that Soleil was getting this opportunity, and that part of him was possibly a little larger.

“Gods know that we could do with the win,” Fitzjames muttered. “Three matches and only a single victory out of them, and a most improbable victory at that.”

“'Improbable'?” Ironwood asked.

Fitzjames shuffled a little in his seat. “I must confess, sir, I didn’t have much hope of the fellow with the trumpet. I must confess I find some of the gimmicks of your students a little … too out there.”

“I admit I’ve thought so too, at times,” Ironwood admitted. “But it seems to work out for them. Coal is better than his weapon might suggest, although I think it was Katt who we have to credit for the victory in their case; she’s the strength at the heart of Team Funky.”

“If you say so, sir,” Fitzjames said. “In any case, we’ve had damnable bad luck today.”

“Our students have faced damnable good opponents,” Winter corrected him.

“Believe me, Major Schnee, I didn’t mean to disparage your sister at all,” Fitzjames said, “but being pitted against good opponents could, in itself, be called bad luck, no?”

“Is there such a thing as a poor opponent at this stage in the competition?”

“I hope so,” Fitzjames said, “and that the Team Rosepetal duo are up against them. We could do with an easy ride to draw level with Haven in the honours.”

The doors to the bridge opened, and Colonel Skybeak walked in. Ironwood turned to face him as he did so. The Valish Colonel came to a halt level with Schnee and offered Ironwood a salute which Ironwood returned.

“General Ironwood,” he said, “I’ve just been speaking to the commanding officers of the Valish units on the Green Line: the Patch Light Infantry and the Green Lancers. They’ve been observing the grimm from a distance, but like you, General Blackthorn has ordered them not to engage. They don’t understand it either, and I still don’t, but I suppose it shows that it’s nothing personal against you or Atlas.”

“I suppose it does,” Ironwood conceded. “Although I’m not sure how much comfort that is.”

“I’ve known General Blackthorn most of my career, General,” Sky Beak said. “And though I don’t understand what’s driving him at the moment, I’ve never before known him to be an insensible man. I hope there is some method in his actions, and I would like to believe that I’m just not seeing his plan.”

“Blake!” Mom cried. “How wonderful to see you again!”

Blake stopped. She had just walked into Cadance’s private box, accompanied by Sun, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Now, as the rest of Rainbow’s friends crowded in around her, she put one hand upon her hip. “Again? You saw me yesterday, Mom.”

“Yes, but that was a day ago, dear,” Mom replied.

Blake rolled her eyes. “Hello, Mom.” She bowed her head to Cadance. “Good afternoon Councillor, Captain Armor.”

“Blake, please,” Cadance said. “This isn’t official business, after all.” She smiled. “Twilight, girls.”

Twilight beamed. “Hey, Cadance. Hey, Shining Armor.”

“Twily.”

“Woof,” said Spike, who was cradled in Twilight’s arms.

Shining Armor frowned. “What did he say?”

“He … barked,” Twilight said, her eyes widening just a little bit behind her spectacles. “That’s what dogs do, after all.”

“He didn’t sound as though he was barking,” Shining Armor replied. “He sounded like he was saying ‘woof.’”

“Have you by any chance been working too hard, Captain?” Rarity asked. “I mean whoever heard of a dog saying ‘woof.’ It sounds to me as though the long hours of lonely sentry duty might be getting to you. Cadance, darling, perhaps you should consider giving your dashing husband a bit of a break.”

Cadance laughed. “Is that right, Shining, am I working you too hard?”

“No, not at all,” Shining Armor assured her. “I just … never mind; I misheard the little guy, obviously.” He reached out and patted Spike on top of the head.

Spike looked rather smug, thought Blake, considering that it was only thanks to Rarity that he had gotten away with it.

Can he bark normally now?

“Well, let me know if you do need a break,” Cadance instructed him. “But anyway, how are you girls?”

“We’re doing all right, thanks for askin’,” Applejack replied. “We’re doin’ a mite better than Atlas has been doin’ today, I have to say.”

“Yes, it hasn’t our best day so far, has it?” Cadance admitted.

“Only because we’ve saved the best for last!” Pinkie declared.

Cadance chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure that will turn out to be the case. Please, all of you, sit down, make yourselves comfortable, and you can order concessions through the pad on the right armrest.”

“Ooh, free concessions?” Pinkie asked.

“Don’t gorge yourself, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity told her.

“I will!”

“Thank you for inviting us up here,” Twilight said as she led the way towards the vacant seats. “You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I thought it might be fun,” Cadance said. To the younger girls, she said, “And how about you, children? How have you been enjoying the tournament so far?”

“It’s been awesome!” Scootaloo declared.

“And the fair grounds have been a lot of fun too,” Apple Bloom added.

“There does seem to be a lot of effort to keep everyone entertained outside of the matches, doesn’t there?” Mom asked. She smiled. “Forgive me, I’m Kali Belladonna, Blake’s mother.”

“Pleased to meetcha, ma’am!” Apple Bloom said cheerily. “Ah’m Apple Bloom, Applejack’s little sister.”

“And I’m Sweetie Belle, Rarity’s little sister.”

“And my name’s Scootaloo, I’m Rainbow Dash’s … honorary little sister.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Apple Bloom told her. “You make it sound like it’s less or somethin’.”

“So did you come to watch Blake in the Vytal Tournament, ma’am?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“No, that was more of a happy coincidence,” Mom said. She glanced at Blake, who hadn’t yet made a move to sit down. “You see, I haven’t seen Blake in quite some time, so when I had the chance to come to Beacon and see her, I jumped at the opportunity. The Vytal Tournament happening at the same time was just a bonus.”

“Why has it been so long?” Scootaloo asked. Her voice took on a slightly accusatory tone. “Do you travel a lot for your ‘work’?”

“No, it’s not that,” Blake said quickly. “It’s … it’s my fault, I—”

“Why don’t we save that story for another time?” Twilight suggested. “We don’t want to spoil the mood ahead of the match.”

Everyone started to sit down. Everyone except for Blake, and Blake did not because she noticed that Sun wasn’t making any move to sit down either. He was loitering in the entranceway into the box, with Shining Armor and the rest of Cadance’s security occasionally glancing his way, as though they, too, were wondering why he didn’t just get inside already.

“Sun?” Blake murmured, reaching out for him a little.

Sun squirmed. “Sorry,” he said, “I just don’t—”

“Ah, you must be Sun Wukong,” Cadance said. “Kali has told me so much about you.”

“She has?” Sun asked.

“You have?” demanded Blake.

“Why are you glaring at me as though I’ve done something wrong?” Mom asked innocently; Blake couldn’t tell whether she actually believed she was innocent or not.

“Please,” Cadance said, gesturing in front of her. “Come.”

Sun hesitated.

Blake reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be okay,” she assured him.

“I don’t bite,” Cadance said.

Still, Sun’s steps forward were cautious, wary, like an animal that might bolt at any moment if he were startled.

Cadance and Kali both seemed rather amused by it.

Blake, following behind Sun, put a hand on his shoulder.

“So,” Cadance said softly, “Kali tells me that you plan to drop out of school and move to Mantle.”

“You told her that?” Blake demanded as her feline ears pressed down into the midst of her wild black hair.

“I thought she could help,” Mom replied.

“Uh … yes?” Sun said. “Yes, I am, ma’am.”

“Cadance,” Cadance told him. “I insist.” She paused. “I have to say that a school drop-out isn’t the kind of boy I’d want my daughter dating, but on the other hand, you might say that Mantle has enough freelance Atlas graduates running around its streets. And, in any case, Blake isn’t my daughter, and Kali has asked me to help you.”

“Help … help me how, ma'a—, I mean, help me how?” asked Sun.

“Yes, Mom,” Blake said through gritted teeth. “Help him how?”

Cadance was quiet for a moment. “I take it that you don’t want to go to school in Atlas?” she said.

“No,” Sun said at once. “No, I don’t.”

“Because…?”

“Because I don’t need it,” Sun said. “I haven’t learnt much while I’ve been at school, and I don’t think I’ll learn much more in the next three years. And anyway, the world isn’t going to wait for me to sit in a classroom bored out of my mind; things are happening now, people need help right now, and I want to help them, right now.”

“Even if it means stepping outside the law?” Shining Armor asked. “Becoming a vigilante?”

Sun’s nervousness seemed to slough off him like dirt being washed off in the shower. “If doing the right thing is a crime, then that says more about the people who make the laws then about those who break them.”

Cadance’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re becoming more like Blake, I see,” Mom observed.

Sun laughed nervously. “Not really,” he said, “but … if I had to learn from someone, if I had to pick someone to be my … my guiding light, I could think of a lot worse people to follow than someone who always knows the right thing and who never gives up.”

Blake felt her cheeks start heating up. She looked away, murmuring, “We all have a better guide in ourselves.”

“I’m not sure that’s always true,” Twilight said. “Although it does sound a lot better than blaming yourself for the failures of others.”

“Sun, your passion is admirable,” Mom said, “but I hope you can understand that I don’t particularly want Blake’s boyfriend to go to prison. Hopefully, you can both forgive me for asking my new friend Cadance here to do what she could.”

“And … what is it that you can do?” Blake asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Cadance was silent for a moment. She folded her arms, creasing the sleeves of her pink trouser suit. “This would be easier if you weren’t a young man in a hurry,” she said. “But … what if I could get you licensed? Or does the vigilantism aspect appeal to you, the thrill of sneaking around, dodging the police, hiding yourself and your actions?”

“There’ll be some of that anyway,” Shining Armor said flatly. “The only thing a licence protects you from is a charge of illegal use of weapons; it doesn’t protect you from the consequences of your weapon usage.”

“True,” Cadance said. “But it does grant just a little more freedom of movement and action.”

Blake was silent. Licensed? Just like that? Was that possible?

“Licensed?” Sun stammered, seeming to have much the same thoughts as Blake herself. “You mean … like a huntsman?”

“Exactly like a huntsman,” Cadance said. “I could ask Shining Armor to do it right now, if you like. Any huntsman can make a huntsman, isn’t that right, Shining Armor?”

“In theory,” Shining Armor said, sounding reluctant to admit it. “But just because any huntsman can make a huntsman doesn’t mean that any other huntsman is obliged to recognise the fact, let alone the state. That’s why the academies exist, as an organised channel through which recognised licences can be issued that everyone can trust to be legitimate.”

“But surely the licence is the important part, as far as protecting Sun from the law is concerned,” Mom pointed out.

“Yes, but I can take care of that,” Cadance assured her. “I can make sure that Sun is licensed, if Shining Armor tells me that he’s ready for it. If that’s what you want, Sun Wukong, if you don’t want the allure of being a romantic outlaw.”

“It kind of sounds like I’ll be a bit of an outlaw anyway,” Sun pointed out.

Cadance chuckled. “Well,” she said, “that really depends on what exactly you plan to do in Mantle, doesn’t it?”

“I want to help,” Sun said. “I want to protect the people?”

“But protect the people from who?” Cadance asked. “That’s a rhetorical question, I’m not expecting an answer out of you; have you even been to Mantle?”

“Um … no,” Sun admitted. “No, I haven’t; I only know what I’ve heard on the news.”

“And yet, driven by … devotion, you’re going anyway,” Cadance said with a glance at Blake. “What you find when you get there, what you decide to do with what you find, that will determine whether you become an outlaw or not … unless you’re not licensed; then you’ll be an outlaw no matter what you do.”

“If it’s so easy,” Blake said. “If you can make Sun a huntsman with a snap of your fingers, then why haven’t you done it for Rainbow Dash?”

“Because a huntsman licence is not a commission, and that’s what Rainbow really wants,” Cadance replied. “And that can only be earned through graduating from Atlas.”

“Of course,” Blake murmured. “All the same, you’re being very generous, considering you don’t know Sun at all.”

“I’m doing a favour to a new friend, as a token of what I hope will be a beneficial friendship between Atlas and Menagerie,” Cadance said.

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. That was … that was an answer. It was an answer that she couldn’t say whether it was good or bad; it sounded like it would be good for Sun, and that was a good thing, whatever Cadance’s motives for it.

If it was what Sun wanted.

“Sun?” she asked softly.

Sun shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Blake almost laughed. Of course Sun would cut right through it all.

The corners of Cadance’s lips twitched upwards. “All right then,” she said. “I’ll let Shining make the arrangements for your final exam, but right now … we should probably all settle down before the match begins, shouldn’t we?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Neon called out as she walked down the corridor, hips swaying to such an exaggerated degree that it could only be by intent, not accident. “Wassup, how are we feeling?”

“Oh, you know,” Rainbow said. “Pretty good, but not overconfident.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure you’re hitting the balance perfectly,” Neon replied. As she drew near to Ciel and Rainbow Dash, she reached out and put her arms around their necks, drawing them in closer to her — and bending Rainbow’s back to force her head down at more like Neon’s level. “You guys know what is at stake here, right?”

“If we are defeated, Atlas will have fallen behind Haven,” Ciel muttered.

“Well, yes,” Neon said. “But more importantly, I will laugh at you. And I will never stop. Ever.” She grinned. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

“The thought itself is torment,” Ciel muttered dryly.

Neon sniggered. “Well, then you’d better get out there and win, hadn’t you?” She released them both. “Do you know who you’re up against out there?”

“Cicero Ward—”

“The Younger,” Rainbow said. “Apparently, we can’t forget that part.”

Ciel continued on, “—is the son of a Mistralian Councillor.”

“So he’s coasting on Daddy’s influence?” Neon guessed.

Rainbow shook her head. “It’s not like that. I mean, if you wanted to do that, you’d probably choose something less dangerous, but Ciel, tell her all the competitions he’s been in.”

“Oh, you actually decided to do some research for this round, huh?” Neon asked, a grin on her face that verged on the unpleasant.

Ciel gazed at her in turn with a look that verged upon a glare.

“Don’t look at me that way,” Neon said, pointing at Neon’s eyes. “I love you, but you know you were caught out in your last match. You hadn’t done the prep-work—”

“We had been rather pre-occupied,” Ciel pointed out.

“I know, I know,” Neon said. “But you know that you walked on the wild side for that round; otherwise, you wouldn’t have looked into this pair.”

“You know that one-on-one rounds are fought blind, right?” Rainbow asked. “Everyone is in the arena, and they just draw the first match and off you go. Your name gets called, you get out there. No prep, no planning. It’s not until the second to last match gets called that you know, if you’re one of the last pair, who you’ll be facing ahead of time.”

Neon nodded. “Yeah, I know the way it works. I watched the tournament when I was a kid too.”

“And you know why it’s all done blind, right?” Rainbow asked. “Because when you go out there on the battlefield, you don’t know what you’ll be up against ahead of time, what you’ll be facing and what they can do.”

Neon’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re telling me that your lack of preparation was a deliberate choice on your part to wing it? For realism?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Rainbow said, with a nod of her head. “I’d rather show that I can put something together on the wing, even if I am taken by surprise. Sure, I could have come up with a detailed plan, that has its place, but so does the ability to adapt and overcome when you’re taken by surprise.”

“So why are you making a plan now?” Neon asked bluntly.

“For my sake,” Ciel said.

“It’s Ciel’s plan,” Rainbow said. “Her show. Tell her what you told me about the two we’re up against.”

“Mister Ward has won some acclaim in the Mistralian tournament circuit,” Ciel declared, after clearing her throat. “Fourth place in last year's Eleusinian Games, sixth place in last year’s Mistralian Regional Tournament, third place in the Synoikia—”

“Fourth, sixth, third, has he ever actually won anything?” Neon asked.

“He won the games held in honour of his father’s wedding,” Ciel said. “Obviously his second marriage.” She could not help a note of disapproval entering her voice. “To a much younger woman.”

“Maybe that was why his son was mad enough to win the tournament that time,” Neon muttered.

“That might be a point in his favour, if so,” Ciel replied.

“Times like these remind me that you’re both religious,” Rainbow said.

“It’s not about religion; it’s about … you don’t think there’s something kind of … icky about an age gap?” Neon asked.

Rainbow shrugged. “Love is love.”

“And he’s a powerful guy; what makes you think love has anything to do with it?” asked Neon.

“A bit cynical, don’t you think?”

“I prefer to call it ‘having eyes,’ Dashie.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, anyway—”

“Anyway, it doesn’t sound like you have too much to worry about with him. He’s not that good by the sounds of it.”

“He is not so terrible that we should blithely underestimate him,” Ciel replied. “His teammate, Lily Cornelia, comes from Eleusinoi, a moderately sized town just beyond Mistral proper. She has not competed in tournaments, at least not as far as I could discover. But she is reasonably well-regarded as a student. They are both close range fighters, so we have the advantage in that regard.”

Neon grinned. “Let me guess: Rainbow is going to cover you while you snipe them.”

“Not quite,” Ciel replied. “Cicero Ward—”

“The Younger.”

“He has a semblance that allows him to launch a powerful sonic attack with his voice, giving them some ranged capability. Therefore, my plan calls for Rainbow Dash to fly upwards and engage from a distance similarly to myself, only closing the distance if absolutely necessary.”

Neon cocked her head to one side. “Then who’ll cover you? With Dash up in the air, you—”

“I shall have to defend myself, if possible by movement and concealment,” Ciel said. “If not, by defending myself.”

Neon frowned. “No offence, Ciel, but you’re not the best up close.”

“I am a soldier of Atlas,” Ciel replied. “I am not helpless.”

“I didn’t say you were, but…” Neon trailed off. “I’m not sure I like this.”

“Then I hope that you will change your mind when you see it — and me — in action,” Ciel said softly.

“Hey, don’t say it like … it sounds like I don’t have any faith in you,” Neon protested. “I have faith, I have…” She peeled herself off the wall, and reached out to take Ciel’s shoulders in her hands. “It’s going to be great,” she said. “You’re going to be great, and I am sure that I will love every minute of it. Unless I don’t get a seat because I’m standing around here. Knock ‘em dead! But not literally, or you’ll get in trouble! Good luck!” She sped away, the rainbow that she left behind illuminating her passage even after Neon herself had disappeared out of sight.

Rainbow looked after her for a moment, then turned her attention back to Ciel.

“So,” she said, “how are you feeling?”

Ciel smiled. “I am always left feeling better for Neon’s presence, even once that presence has departed. And in any case … I am confident.”

“You should be,” Rainbow said. “Not overconfident, maybe, but the only thing that we don’t know is Lily Cornelia’s semblance, and that … I’m sure we can deal with that, whatever it turns out to be. She might not even have one.”

“Or she is hiding it,” Ciel responded.

“Well, if she is, I’m sure Doctor Oobleck will spill the beans for us the first time she uses it,” Rainbow said.

Ciel let out the slightest laugh in response to that. “He is rather … indiscreet.”

“I suppose it is his job,” Rainbow said.

“I would prefer that it were not his job to make our lives harder once this tournament is over,” Ciel said. “But it is what it is. Thank you for allowing me to give some consideration to our opponents on this occasion.”

“In the first match, we showed that we’re strong enough to overcome surprises,” Rainbow said. “In this match, we show that we can think. The audience is getting the full spectrum of us in this tournament.” She paused. “Although, I can’t help but think that Neon has a point; are you sure that you’re going to be alright, on your own, with no one standing between you and the opposition?”

“As I told Neon,” Ciel said, “if the situation does come to it, I will be fine.”

“Okay then, if you’re sure,” Rainbow said. “Are you ready to strut our stuff?”

“Strutting is not something with which I have great experience,” Ciel replied. “But I am ready to go.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Rainbow asked.

They turned, and side by side, they walked out together, into the light of the arena.

The crowd cheered for them, or else they cheered for their Haven opponents who were making their way out from the opposite side of the arena, the cheering intermingling in a whirlwind of noise in which all voices, all particular sounds, were lost in a mere mass of sound, like bad music inattentively listened to, audible wallpaper for the senses as they were distracted by some other, more important task.

Like focussing upon their opponents, who came into view as the two sides closed with one another, approaching from opposite sides to meet in the middle.

Team VLCA was a second-year team, and each of its members, by this point of the year, passed their nineteenth birthday, but nevertheless, Lily Cornelia looked younger than her nineteen years, courtesy of her very clear blue eyes and the way that she wore her blonde hair in pigtails, tied off at the ends with green ribbons, which combined to take at least a year off her actual age. She was of average height and willowy in build, with a beauty spot under her right eye. She wore a lava red tunic on top of a rocky grey skirt, with a slit up one side that revealed her leg and the riding boot that enclosed it. A lily white kerchief was tied around her neck, while a simple bronze pectoral was strapped across her chest. Her arms were bare, save for the bronze band that she wore above her left elbow, but her hands and wrists were both concealed beneath sturdy-looking riding gloves. A broad-brimmed straw hat sat on her head, casting a shadow over her face. She held a metal staff in one hand, the tip resting upon the ground.

Cicero Ward the Younger was taller than his teammate, but only by a little, with dark eyes and dark hair. His face was handsome enough, Ciel supposed, with rather chiselled features and fine cheekbones, helped by the tidy manner in which he arranged his hair, slickly combed across his head to the left with plenty of oil to hold it in place, but all of it marred somewhat by the prominent mole on his right cheek. He wore robes of chickpea yellow that flowed out behind him while exposing the fiery orange tunic that he had on underneath. His trousers were black, but red lines rippled up and down the legs so that they almost looked like blood vessels. He wore no armour across his chest, but he did wear a set of black leather pteruges around his waist, covering his hips, and strips of purple linen bound around his hands and arms up to his elbows. Above his left elbow, like so many Mistralians, he wore a band of gold, with a yellow topaz set in it.

In his right hand, he held a whip, fashioned out of metallic segments with flexible joints connecting them, with a phial of lightning dust set in the handle; in his left hand, he held a short sword with a phial of fire dust in the hilt.

The two sides faced each other in the centre of the battlefield.

“My father may want to write about this,” Cicero said. “So if we could all make it somehow worth writing about, that would be for the best.”

“Write about it how?” Rainbow asked. “I thought your father was a Councillor.”

“Do you imagine that Councillors don’t write?” asked Lily.

“I know they can write; I’m not just not sure why one would want to write about a tournament match,” Rainbow replied.

“He’ll probably write about courage,” Cicero explained. “Or martial training. Or … to be quite honest, my father could write an essay about the scrambled eggs on toast he had for breakfast, and he’d publish it in the expectation that people would be interested in his views.” He paused. “While we’re on the subject, I don’t suppose that you could let me win so that I can avoid a sternly worded letter on how I’ve let him down.”

“You have my sympathies, but I fear we must decline,” Ciel murmured.

“I mean, it’s not like we don’t have people of our own who we don’t want to let down,” Rainbow added.

“I thought as much,” Cicero said with a sigh. “But I thought it couldn’t hurt to try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. We’ll just have to beat you fair and square, I suppose.”

Rainbow snorted. “You can give it a go, sure.”

The chime sounded as the images of the various biomes appeared on the edges of the four quadrants of the battlefield and began to whirl around and around.

“Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil of Atlas!” Professor Port announced, prompting renewed cheering from certain sections of the crowd.

“Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward of Haven!”

“The Younger, Cicero Ward the Younger,” Cicero muttered. “Would it have been so hard to remember?”

One by one, the biomes were chosen, the rotating images each settling upon one single image, and that image in turn prompting the terrain itself to rise from the depths like a grimm of the deeps emerging to devour a ship at sea: behind Ciel, the coast and the shipwreck; behind Rainbow Dash, the forest; behind Cicero Ward the Younger, the gravity platforms; behind Lily Cornelia, the savannah.

“Three!” Doctor Oobleck called.

Distant Thunder expanded in Ciel’s hands as she pulled it over her shoulder, feeling the satisfying weight of it against her gloved palms.

“Two!” Professor Port’s voice boomed out.

Rainbow Dash’s Wings of Harmony unfurled with a series of mechanical clanks and clatters, giving a clue as to what Rainbow meant to do once the battle started.

“One!” Doctor Oobleck shouted.

Lily and Cicero both settled into fighting stances, ready to go.

“Begin!” cried Professor Port.

Rainbow Dash leapt upwards, taking to the skies. Lily began to retreat backwards towards the long grass of the savannah. Ciel raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder, but before she could even take aim at Lily, a crack of Cicero’s whip in her direction forced her to leap aside.

The sound of Rainbow’s pistols were soft, quiet snapping sounds like well-behaved dogs as she opened fire upon Cicero, who tried to deflect the fire with his short sword, to only mixed success.

With Cicero thus engaged, and with Lily having disappeared into the long grass, Ciel decided to take up a better position than exposed in the centre of the field. Two options lay behind her: the mast of the ship and one of the trees of the forest. Both offered a high, commanding view of the battlefield — although the gravity platforms might have offered a better one, if they had not brought her so close by Cicero and potentially so close to Lily — but the mast was the more exposed, and so Ciel chose to follow the lead of May Zedong by taking cover in the trees.

Fortunately, Cicero was not so well-equipped to respond to that as Blake had been.

Ciel retreated, her footsteps pattering lightly upon the grey metallic surface of the central hexagon, brushing briefly over the sandy shore of the shipwreck coast, and then passing — steering clear of Rainbow’s battle with Cicero — into the shadowy eaves of the forest, where sunlight dappled through the trees.

Jumping with Distant Thunder was a little tricky due to its weight, but without any enemies close by, Ciel was free to concentrate her aura into her legs to give her extra power for a jump which carried her up into the high branches. There, at the edge of the forest, she crouched, balanced upon a sturdy-seeming outgrowth of the tree.

She raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder, her world shrinking to what she could see through the scope.

What she could see was Cicero Ward the Younger making somewhat flailing efforts to hit Rainbow Dash with his whip. The whip extended outwards, elongating itself, but it did not extend enough to be able to catch Rainbow Dash, who sometimes soared so high that she nearly touched the shield that formed the ceiling of the arena before swooping down again to increase the accuracy of her pistols, only to turn back and soar up once again beyond the range of Cicero’s retaliation.

Cicero shouted, unleashing a sonic attack with his semblance, powerful soundwaves erupting out of his mouth, so powerful that Ciel could see them like rings of smoke expanding outwards, but Rainbow Dash was too good a flyer to be struck by them; she turned away, rolling and angling herself and her wings to so that the sonic waves passed by her, without touching her or harming her.

Then she resumed firing upon Cicero, who was able to deflect some but not all of Rainbow’s rounds.

Ciel sighted him. With the damage that his aura had already taken, it might be that … no, it would take more than a single shot from Distant Thunder to eliminate him from the fight.

But it would do much to bring him to that point.

Ciel’s finger began to squeeze the trigger.

Ciel felt something, a disturbance in her aura caused by someone nearby, someone in very close proximity. She started to look up, but even as she did so, she felt something solid strike her very hard in the gut. Ciel winced, firing Distant Thunder as the barrel jerked downwards, blowing a hole in the floor.

Ciel looked around. She could see nothing, there was nobody there, but then—

She was struck again, this time on the side of the head, a blow which knocked her sideways off the branch on which she had been standing. Ciel struggled to keep hold of her rifle as she fell to the ground, tumbling around and around in circles before landing on her back with a heavy thud.

She could see nothing but trees above her, but nevertheless, she rolled to one side to avoid an expected blow. If she could get back on her feet, then—

She was knocked down again, her legs cut out from under her, then another blow to her back forced her right down onto the ground, head pressed against the artificial grass and soil that littered the forest floor.

Lily’s semblance. She must have the ability to… conceal herself, or turn invisible. She retreated into the long grass, concealed herself, then emerged out of the long grass and crossed the arena into the forest without anyone realising it.

She has done very well to conceal her semblance all this time — no pun intended.

As the invisible Lily kicked Ciel in the side, Ciel found herself wishing that her opponent had not done quite so well.

If I use my semblance, I will be able to see where the blows are going to land.

But will that help me to hit back?

Have I any other options?

The soft spitting sounds of Rainbow’s pistols sounded much closer now, as Rainbow Dash stood in the eaves of the forest, firing Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome at the Lily whom Ciel could not see.

But Rainbow Dash could, thanks to the goggles covering her eyes.

Ciel couldn’t see her opponent, but she could see Rainbow’s bullets hitting something, bullets thudding into something invisible.

Unfortunately, by the time that Ciel was in a position to fire herself, Rainbow had ceased shooting.

Rainbow strode towards her, head turning this way and that, guns pointing this way and that. “Are you okay?”

“I have been better, but I am still in the fight,” Ciel muttered as she regained her feet. She worked the breach of Distant Thunder, ejecting the cartridge that she had misfired; it landed with a thump on the ground beside her.

“Then we should take cover for a second,” Rainbow growled, taking Ciel by the shoulder and giving her somewhat of a nudge, although Ciel hardly needed it. She and Rainbow retreated deeper into the woods, taking cover behind a pair of stout trees with long branches, putting the thick wood between them and Cicero as he unleashed a sonic attack into the forest biome, a high-pitched shriek that blew away an expanding cone of forest, shattering trunks, turning wood to chips and kindling, littering the forest floor — the floor of what had been a forest — with sawdust and letting the late afternoon sunlight shine down upon the ground. But the cone of destruction stopped before it reached them, though Ciel felt the dying soundwaves grasp at her black hair, lifting the tips of them up before they fell against her cheek, but it didn’t damage her aura.

“How did you know?” Ciel asked, glancing at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow grinned out of one side of her mouth. “One advantage of flying so high, I was level with the big screens; they showed you … in a bit of trouble.”

“I am … obliged to you,” Ciel said. “You saw her with your infrared vision?”

Rainbow nodded. “Only I’ve lost her now; she’s gone into the trees, and I can’t see her. She could have dropped her semblance for a little while, and I still wouldn’t see her.”

“On the other hand, that is probably why Cicero—”

“The Younger.”

“—is not destroying more of the forest,” Ciel said. “Speaking of whom.” She braced Distant Thunder against her shoulder before turning and leaning out from behind the cover of her tree.

Cicero growled low at her, and the bass rumble seemed to be more controlled than the high shriek, because it didn’t tear up the forest but, rather, flew toward Ciel in a single focussed beam.

Ciel fired, Distant Thunder roaring, but Cicero’s shout turned the shot right back at her, and she would have been struck by round and sound if she hadn’t scrambled back into cover — and to new cover, as Cicero changed the direction of his shout enough to destroy her tree.

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “Here’s what we do: I’ll close the distance with my speed before he can react and punch his aura out; you stay close, then I’ll find Lily.”

“And I shall look helpless while all the glories of the victory accrue to you?” Ciel demanded. “No, not in this instance. In any other battle, yes, but not when there is nothing more at stake than our reputations.”

“All right, do you have a better plan?”

Ciel thought for a moment. “Can you keep me covered while I relocate to the shipwreck biome? Once I am upon the ship’s mast, then you take to the skies once more and resume your engagement with Cicero.”

“And what about you?”

“I will be fine.”

“Against an enemy you can’t see?” Rainbow asked incredulously.

“I will be fine,” Ciel repeated. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “If you think you can make it work, then let’s make it work.” She took a breath. “On three: one, two, go!”

Ciel ran, Distant Thunder rising and falling as she cradled it in her arms, darting between the trees, Rainbow Dash following with his back to Ciel, eyes peeled for any sign of Lily Cornelia.

There was no sign of her. She did not prevent Ciel from reaching the edge of the forest and out of it into the other biome. Rainbow halted there, on the edge of the woods, her wings, which had folded to allow her to move in the forest, unfurling once again.

Ciel splashed across the shallow water, getting the hem of her skirt a little wet as she reached the shipwrecked wooden sailing ship, a simple one-masted vessel of wooden planks that seemed to be built to evoke a much larger craft, one of the great Mantle galleons that had plied the seas between Solitas and Vacuo in days of old.

The ship was broken, a hole in its hull, the craft leaning at an angle, water filling it up and lapping at the deck; even the mast was at an angle, but it would serve nevertheless.

Ciel climbed up out of the water and onto the deck, and from there — concentrating her aura to her legs once again — leapt up onto the spar of the mast, where she retreated to the highest point on the spar, with the water beneath her and only a single avenue of approach.

She gave Rainbow Dash a thumbs up. Rainbow returned the gesture, with a grin for interest, and then took to the skies, ready to resume the contest with Cicero.

Who had, unfortunately, gained height himself by retreating to the gravity platforms.

But Ciel was sure that Rainbow could handle it. Her focus was on Lily.

Precognition on!

Ciel’s semblance would not help her to spot Lily; it wouldn’t make the invisible visible to her future sight. In that sense, it might not seem as though it was of much use to her.

But it did mean that Ciel spotted the ripples in the water caused by an invisible girl wading through the ocean to get to her before they happened, so when she aimed at where those rippled had been and pulled the trigger—

BANG!

The shot roared out of Distant Thunder and hit Lily as she was crossing the water. Ciel saw the splash as Lily, still invisible, was blown off her feet and into the water. She worked the breech — the cartridge dropping down to hit the wooden deck below — and fired again.

BANG!

She ejected the cartridge, hearing it strike the wooden boards beneath, even as her eyes swept the waters around her. She couldn’t see any sign of Lily emerging from the water again.

Having been betrayed by the water, she will stay under it, but she must emerge at some point.

Somewhere concealed, where I will not notice it so easily.

Using the hull as cover.

Ciel looked to the prow, and then to the stern, where she saw the future echo of water dripping off an invisible form, falling across the wooden deck as though there was a raincloud being blown hard across the ship towards the mast.

BANG!

Ciel fired again, and a section of the deck collapsed as Lily was blasted down through the wooden planks into the recesses of the flooded ship.

“Lily Cornelia’s aura has dropped below the limit!” Doctor Oobleck shouted. “She has been eliminated!”

Ciel closed her eyes, deactivating her semblance as the crowd — or parts of it, at least — went wild around her.

She opened her eyes again to see that, despite having gained height, Cicero was still faring poorly against Rainbow Dash, who was now keeping distance where height alone would not have sufficed. She was chipping away at Cicero’s aura with the fire from her machine pistols, darting this way and that, out of range of his whip, avoiding his sonic attacks, soaring gracefully here and there and firing all the while as she did so.

Ciel was not sure what Cicero could yet do.

What he could do, as it turned out, was leap off the highest gravity platform, twisting in the air, and then unleash a low, deep sonic roar behind him, a focussed blast which bore him backwards, through the air, towards Rainbow Dash.

Of course, Rainbow could have avoided him. She could have flown out of the way and let Cicero fly right past her — although he could have tried to redirect.

But if she had done that, she would not really have been Rainbow Dash, and so, being Rainbow Dash, as Cicero rocketed himself towards her, she flew towards him.

She holstered her guns as she did so.

Cicero twisted in the air so that he was facing her. He lashed out with his whip.

Rainbow rolled, the whip flying out past her face without touching her.

She drew back her fist.

The boom as she hit Cicero in the face with a substantial chunk of her aura echoed across the arena.

Cicero was hurled backwards, his aura dropping rapidly as she flew past the gravity platforms and past the edge of the arena to hit the outer barrier that protected the spectators. He hung there for a moment, splayed out like a swatted fly, before he fell down towards the surface below.

“Cicero Ward the Younger has been ejected from the arena and is eliminated!” Doctor Oobleck shouted. “Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil win this match!”

Cowboy (Rewritten)

Cowboy

Terri-Belle got to her feet. “Disappointing,” she pronounced. “And all the more disappointing for being at the last.” With the victories of Arslan Altan and Sun Wukong, Haven had appeared to be on a roll, only for the momentum to be lost in the last two matches.

“Three Beacon students, two from Haven, two from Atlas, one from Shade,” Swift Foot said. “It’s not bad, by any means.”

“Are you saying that, like so many, I have once again raised my hopes too high?” Terri-Belle asked.

“No,” Swift Foot said. “I’m just saying … it’s not bad. Two out of eight. It’s on the average. And if you count Pyrrha as one of ours, not one of theirs, then it’s three of ours, so we’re in the lead.”

“The trouble is that if you start playing games like that, then Sun Wukong becomes a Vacuan, Weiss Schnee an Atlesian, Umber Gorgoneion becomes a Mistralian also—”

“Really?”

“I am fairly certain she is of the Kisthenian Gorgoneions,” Terri-Belle said. “You’ve read the biographies of the contestants, what does it say?”

“About Umber Gorgoneion? Very little,” Swift Foot said. “Only that she enjoys sculpting out of stone in her spare time and has a pet snake called Allecto. Nothing about her background, where she was born, anything of that sort. She’s a complete cipher.” She paused. “The Kisthenian Gorgoneions, does that mean … that would make her the sister to Lady Euryale and Lady Verde?”

“By her age, that would seem likely,” Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot frowned. “I didn’t know they had a third sister.”

Terri-Belle nodded. “Yes, she was … little seen.”

“'Little seen'?” Swift Foot repeated. “What does that mean?”

“I scarcely know myself; I am not close to the family,” Terri-Belle said. “All I know is that there is a third sister, a third daughter of Lady Gorgoneion, and that she is, or was, mostly hidden away out of the public eye. Illness, I believe.”

“If that’s her, then she doesn’t look ill,” Swift Foot pointed out. “And anyway, how and why would the sick and secluded daughter of Lady Gorgoneion end up as a student at Shade Academy?”

“Perhaps she was sick and tired of being secluded?” Terri-Belle suggested. “In any case, what I am saying is that if we judge the huntsmen and huntresses by their country of origin … well, I fear that we are speculating already as to who will go through to the final round.”

“Pyrrha Nikos, Arslan Altan, Weiss Schnee, Nora Valkyrie, Rainbow Dash, Neptune Vasilias, Umber Gorgoneion … I don’t know which of Flynt Coal or Neon Katt will be sent through.”

“But you’re so certain of the others?” Terri-Belle asked. “Why Neptune Vasilias?”

“Because he’s a Mistralian of … a reasonable enough family, when one makes allowances for the fact that they’re Argives,” Swift Foot said. “Whereas Sun Wukong is a faunus from Vacuo.”

“Reasoning which might make sense, if the team were led by a Mistralian,” Terri-Belle replied. “But I’m not sure that Team Sun abides by our rules of … proper conduct.”

“You think they’ll send Sun Wukong through?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t really want to speculate for fear of looking foolish when I turn out to be mistaken,” Terri-Belle said. “We will see tomorrow how things stand. All we know is that there will only be two Haven students among the eight.”

“Two Haven students and Pyrrha Nikos,” Swift Foot said.

Terri-Belle hesitated a moment before she said, “Yes, I suppose it is safe enough to venture that. Two Haven students, and Pyrrha Nikos.”

"That," pronounced Vice Principal Luna, "verged upon the perfunctory."

"I don't know; Miss Soleil was hard up against it for a moment," Principal Celestia replied. "Although Rainbow Dash never seemed to be in any real difficulty — which is to her credit, I think."

"To her credit and to Haven's discredit in equal measure," Luna said. "What is Leo teaching them?"

A mischievous smile crossed Celestia's pale features. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear from you."

Luna pouted. "I shouldn't even dignify that with a response, but I will, to say that he would have no reason to welcome a word from me, not after all these years, and certainly not to rebuke his teaching style. In any case, not all his students did so poorly today; it may be that they were simply outclassed by their opponents."

"No doubt they were," Celestia said. She paused. "I know why you didn't, but there are times I wish you'd kept in touch with him."

"Really?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" asked Celestia. "I know you're … lonely, with only me to confide in, and there are times when I think Leo must be rather lonely too. Ozpin has Goodwitch, you have me … who does Leo have, marooned at Haven?"

"You might ask the same of James," Luna pointed out.

"James at least has the consolation of being well-beloved by his students, even if he cannot share the burden with them," Celestia said. "And James is not a faunus surrounded by … not a faunus in a rather traditionalist realm."

"You could just say 'racist,'" said Luna. "There is no Mistralian here to object."

"I suppose," Celestia said. "But you see my point?"

"I do," Luna acknowledged. "And yet, I am not sure a few words from me would solve anything." She let out a sigh. "The burdens that we carry, the burdens that Ozpin places on our shoulders, are heavy ones that cannot be so easily lifted by a few kind words." She looked at the television and the image of Rainbow Dash displayed upon it. "I hope they all appreciate this tournament for the respite that it is."

"Booyah!" Leaf yelled, clapping her hands together. "And that's how it's done!"

"How would you know?" asked Veil.

"'Cause I've watched all these matches, obviously," said Leaf. "Although it was a bit disappointing that one of the two Haven students spent the whole match invisible so we couldn't see her."

"It's reality TV, not scripted," Veil observed. "Sometimes, I guess, that's just the way it is."

"Woohoo," said Fluttershy softly from Cadance's box high up in the arena.

What Fluttershy lacked in volume, Pinkie more than made up for. "GO, RAINBOW DASH!" She shrieked, oblivious to the way that Applejack and Rarity were leaning away from her whilst covering their ears. "YEAH! WOO!"

"That was pretty straightforward, wasn't it?" Twilight said, turning to Blake.

"Cicero didn't have an adequate response to Rainbow's ability to fight from a distance," Blake replied, "and Ciel made the best use of the terrain."

"She got lucky with that," Applejack observed. "If it hadn't been for all that water—"

"I'm sure Ciel would have made it work somehow," Blake replied. "But yes, I agree, the battlefield did favour her a little."

"Ooh, you know what we should do?" Pinkie said. "We should all go out and celebrate, and Blake can bring Sun, and we can invite Flash, and do you think Weiss Schnee would like to come too?"

"'Weiss Schnee'?" Rarity repeated. "That would be splendid, but do you think she would?"

"I … I think Weiss would be happy too, especially with Flash," Twilight said. "But, um, you see—"

"Unfortunately, neither Rainbow or I, or Twilight, can make it," Blake said, cutting in. "We're busy tonight."

"'Busy'?" Rarity said. "Busy with what, darling?"

Blake and Twilight shared a glance; Twilight, for one, had no desire to lie to everyone, but it wasn't as though they could just tell them about Amber, could they? Well, they certainly couldn't tell them the whole truth about Amber.

Nevertheless, they had to say something. "We," she began, "we have to—"

"It's work," Blake said. "Team Sapphire have asked us to help them out with something."

"Every answer raises further questions," Rarity murmured.

"You get used to it," Sun remarked. "I don't get what they're up to, and I've been on one of their missions."

"And it don't bother you, not getting it?" asked Applejack.

Sun shrugged. "I trust Blake, and that means that I trust it's something important."

"But why are you getting missions during the Vytal Tournament?" asked Fluttershy.

"Perhaps I'm less trusting than Mister Wukong, but I'd like to know that too," remarked Cadance.

"Is it Professor Ozpin's niece?" asked Sun.

"Yes," Twilight said, relieved to have that part out there. "Yes, yes, that's it exactly. We're providing security for Professor Ozpin's niece at the carnival tonight."

"'Professor Ozpin's niece'?" Shining Armor repeated incredulously. "Two teams of huntsmen, plus Blake—"

"And Yang," Blake said softly.

"Two and a half teams for…" Shining Armor trailed off. "I don't want to accuse the Professor of anything, but I've got a hard time seeing how that's a valid use of resources. Cadance doesn't have that much security!"

"Which doesn't mean that she doesn't need protection," Lady Belladonna said. "But, by the same token, if she does need protection, then shouldn't that be provided by adults?"

"We're not children, Mom," Blake said. "We've seen more than some huntsmen twice our age."

"A fact which doesn't thrill me, believe me," said Lady Belladonna.

"And I love a party more than anyone," Pinkie said, "but if the Professor's niece is in danger, then why is she going to the carnival?"

"Because, just because she's in danger doesn't mean that she should have to live her life in a box, does it?" Twilight asked.

Pinkie nodded. "That's a good point."

Cadance's blue eyes were narrow. "I take it that General Ironwood is aware of all this?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is," Blake said, her voice even and her tone become more formal.

Cadance pursed her lips. "Twilight, what's your role in this?"

Twilight debated whether and how to tell Cadance and everyone else that she was the getaway driver. Since it was imperative and necessary to say something, she said, "I will be on the airship in case it's needed for extraction."

"The fact that you’re not going to be in the line of fire is something, at least," Cadance said. She paused a moment. "I don't like this. I don't like the fact that there are things neither you or General Ironwood are saying. But I suppose, as Sun reminds us, we should trust that you — and General Ironwood — know what you're doing—"

"Should we?" asked Lady Belladonna.

Cadance chuckled. "Is there an alternative?"

Lady Belladonna shook her head. "No. No, I suppose there isn't. God knows that Blake never took well to attempts to tell her no, or wait, or it’s not safe. So you're right; we will have to trust you."

"Until such time," Cadance added, "as the trust proves to be misplaced."

The cheers of the crowd rang in Rainbow’s ears as she flew across the battlefield to land upon the deck — the deck that was even more broken now than it had been when the battle started — of the shipwrecked vessel.

“So,” she said, looking up at Ciel, who was still perched on the mast. “Using the water disturbance to track her movements? That was your plan?”

“'Her'? I am here, you know.”

“Where?” Rainbow asked, looking around. “And how do you still have the aura to keep your semblance going?”

“Down here,” Lily said grumpily, but then, considering that she’d just lost the match, she was probably allowed to be a little grumpy. A hand, a visible hand encased within a riding glove, appeared out of the hole that Ciel had blown in the ship’s deck as Lily pulled herself up and onto the wooden planks. She grunted with effort as she rose to her feet. “For the record, you’d be surprised at how little demand my semblance places upon my aura.”

“Yeah, I would,” Rainbow replied. “You can turn invisible, fully and completely invisible, and it doesn’t even burn through your aura to do it?”

“As has just been proven, it also doesn’t make me invincible,” Lily muttered.

“No,” Rainbow allowed, “but if it’s that good, why have you kept it to yourself all this time? We couldn’t find out what your semblance was.”

“I haven’t needed it until now,” Lily explained. “I’ve been saving it for the right moment.”

Ciel leaped down off the mast, landing with a heavy thud upon the wooden boards. “Some might say,” she said, “that having saved it so long, the right moment might be more…”

“Important?” Lily suggested. “You’re implying I wasted it in a tournament match, aren’t you?”

Ciel hesitated. “I would not wish to—”

“Well, you did,” Lily told her. “And I would see your point, except the grimm don’t watch TV. Not that it works as well on grimm as it does on people, since they can still sense my emotions, but it kind of works, and bandits don’t watch TV either. At least, I hope they don’t. Nobody who I might be going up against in future is going to be better off because they saw me use my semblance in this match.”

It would be great if that was true, Rainbow thought. Does Salem watch TV? Does anyone who works for her?

“Anyway,” Lily went on, “when I found out what we were up against, it was clear that I was going to have to pull out all the stops, or you’d just end up taking me out from a distance before I could get close enough to respond.” She paused. “I mean it didn’t work, but not using it wouldn’t have worked out either.” She shook her head. “When you retreated to the ship, I knew what you were trying to do, but I thought I could move fast enough that you still wouldn’t be able to hit me. But I forgot about your semblance, didn’t I?”

“It was a valiant effort,” Ciel told her. “I was in real difficulty after you surprised me in the forest.” She held out her hand. “Well fought.”

Lily slapped her hand into Ciel’s, then shook it vigorously. “Well won,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go clean Cicero up off the floor. His father is going to be insufferable about this. He already thinks that we don’t work hard enough.” She paused. “And it would have been nice to have had more finalists than you Atlas lot for once. But, as the gods and fate decree, I guess.” She nodded in Rainbow’s direction before she turned away, jumping off the ship and down into the water.

Rainbow could hear the splashing sounds as she waded through the sea before she climbed out onto the shore.

“That was a pretty good plan of yours,” Rainbow informed Ciel. “I’m guessing that you chose to stand up on the spar like that so that there was only one place she could be standing if she got up there with you. You could just fire down the spar and be sure to hit her?”

“In the last resort, yes,” Ciel said.

Rainbow nodded. “And you came up with that on the fly?”

Ciel smiled slightly. “Is that not something laudable?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Rainbow agreed. She stopped talking for a second, letting them both listen to the cheering crowd, all those people crying out at how well they’d done, how much they’d enjoyed seeing them do it, how much fun they’d had.

Cheering out their approval and affection and acclaim for Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil.

“So how does it feel,” she asked, “knowing that that’s for us? How does it feel to win? How does it feel to be…” She swept one around out across the arena. “How does it feel to be a poor girl from Mantle and stand here and listen to this?”

“How does it feel to be a faunus from Low Town?” Ciel responded.

Rainbow didn’t reply right away. She took another moment, a couple more moments, to listen, to just drink the whole thing in, to let it fall on all her ears.

It wasn’t, like, the best sound ever, it wasn’t the best thing that she’d ever heard or that would ever happen to her, let’s not go nuts or anything, but … she kind of wished that her parents could hear it.

I should have asked Scootaloo to record it for me.

“It’s great,” she said. “It’s incredible, it makes me feel small. But … at the same time…”

“The relative insignificance of all of this circus means that it does not fill one up,” Ciel replied. “Fast food, not a nourishing meal.”

Rainbow looked at her. “You too, huh?”

“Many people have made sacrifices for my sake,” Ciel said. “For my being here.”

“And it would be great to say ‘this proves that everything they did was worth it,’” Rainbow added. “Only … it doesn’t.”

“As you say,” Ciel replied.

“But we will,” Rainbow insisted. “We have done, already; and in the meantime … this isn’t nothing. This is … it’s pretty cool, if nothing else, and I bet it’s pretty cool for your family watching too, and for my friends, and Blake, and … so let’s enjoy it, huh? Because you have to agree, it’s kind of awesome.”

Ciel smiled. “Indeed,” she said softly. “It is … rather marvellous, to have come so far.”

“And that concludes today’s exciting matches!” Professor Port declared, his voice booming out across the arena, and into the homes of everyone watching. “Tomorrow, eight brave huntsmen and huntresses will go forward and compete in the one-on-one round until only a single champion remains. Now, you may be expecting that we will introduce those eight huntsmen and huntresses tonight, but you would be wrong! Amongst the qualities expected of a true huntsman is the ability to rise to the occasion even in the face of the unexpected. And so, not only will our final eight competitors not be introduced until shortly before the battles begin, but each round will be randomly determined immediately before the match! There will be zero time to prepare!”

“Who will compete?” Doctor Oobleck asked. “Who will they face? And who will emerge victorious in all battles to snatch the crown of victory? All these questions will only be answered tomorrow, here in the arena and broadcast live on major television networks!”

It was not long afterwards that Sunset and Rainbow Dash stood in Professor Ozpin’s office.

The headmaster stood behind his desk, the better both to be seen by the two team leaders but also to see the hologram that was being projected over said desk by Sunset’s scroll.

The hologram displayed, in transparent shapes and lines of light blue, a view of the centre of Vale, or at least of a part of it, the part down which the carnival would … progress, after a fashion, although it didn’t move like a parade but sort of ambled along in a great mass, like a snake that vaguely meant to go somewhere but would be just as happy staying where it was, perhaps rolling over for a little while.

In any case, the hologram showed a view of the centre of Vale, an area marked by an abundance of tall buildings looming over the main road on both sides in a mixture of old-fashioned designs, columns for some, buttresses and gargoyles for others, and hypermodern architecture of steel and glass. As per the plan that Sunset and Rainbow had come up with, all those vantage points ought to be more help to them than hindrance.

A red line ran down the main street, which was at times called the Kingsway, at other times the High Street, at times called Main Street, and sometimes called Broadway, depending on where you were and whether you’d passed through certain squares or not because they couldn’t just pick a name and stick with it, could they?

Coloured dots — red, yellow, orange, blue, green, all the colours of the rainbow — were placed upon the hologram, indicating the positions of various members of the combined force.

Professor Goodwitch stood by the right hand side of Professor Ozpin’s desk, while General Ironwood stood upon the left, both of them looking down upon the hologram, even as Professor Ozpin did.

Professor Ozpin stared at the hologram, as if he might discern the plan without Sunset or Rainbow having to say a thing to him about it. At length, or after what seemed like a length, although the gears of the clock had not ground on too much, he raised his head and looked at them.

“Please,” he said, “explain.”

Sunset was the first to take a step forward. “The carnival moves, after a fashion, down this main road indicated in red, which goes by several names but which we will call the Kingsway because that’s what it’s called when it starts—”

“I would prefer it if you called it Broadway, Miss Shimmer, or Main Street,” Professor Ozpin interrupted her. “The Kingsway is … rather a vanity that should have been left in the past.”

Sunset blinked rapidly. “Um, ahem, very well, Professor, as you wish.” She gestured down the red line, her hand and fingers passing through some of the holographic buildings. “The carnival moves down Broadway, beginning at Saint Mary’s Place and ending at Old Forest Park, although Amber won’t join the carnival until it passes the skydock, here.” She pointed towards it. “We can’t say for sure how far she’ll get from that position, because once you’re part of the carnival, you can be as fast or slow as you like, crowd permitting. She might just hang around outside the skydock all night dancing with Dove until the music stops.” She paused for a moment. “Amber will be accompanied not only by Dove but by myself, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny, all in close proximity. We’ll provide close protection to Amber, as indicated.” She pointed to a cluster of five dots near the holographic skydock. One of them was amber, and one was white; they were Amber and Dove — the reason it was white instead of brown was that they’d found that dark colours were harder to see on the hologram. Deployed around the two of them were four more dots: red for Pyrrha, yellow for Jaune, orange for Sunset, and green for Penny, all placed protectively around Amber and Dove.

“That may be difficult in a crowd,” General Ironwood observed. “How can you be sure that you can keep people away from Amber?”

“So long as we stay close to her, sir, then we should be able to make sure that no one does her harm,” Sunset replied. “Everyone wants to stay close by their friends, so nobody should find it odd if we hold on to Amber or shove people aside who try to come between us. Anyone would do the same for their nervous friend who was experiencing the big city for the first time; no one will think anything of it.”

“Even so,” General Ironwood said, “it will be hard to see an attack coming.”

“That’s where the rest of us come in, sir,” Rainbow said, and now, she, too, took a step forward, pointing to the purple dot some distance in advance of the others; Blake was purple instead of black for the same reason that Dove was white instead of brown — the brighter colour showed up better on the hologram. “That’s Blake; she’s going to be the vanguard of this operation, moving ahead of Amber and Dove to try and spot trouble before it reaches them. She’ll continually double back towards Amber before moving out again, sweeping back and forth for any danger.”

“And if the danger ambushes Miss Belladonna?” Professor Goodwitch asked. “Your plan puts her alone, unsupported.”

“And if anyone tries to mess with Blake because they think being alone makes her an easy target, they’ll soon regret it, Professor,” Rainbow replied.

Professor Goodwitch looked down at Rainbow from over the top of her spectacles. “Bravado, Miss Dash, is hardly a substitute for proper planning.”

“It’s not bravado, Professor,” Rainbow replied. “Yes, I have faith in Blake, but I also have an assessment of her skills and capabilities that I believe to be accurate. I wouldn’t have put her in this position if I didn’t think she could handle herself, and I think that she is the best person for this post. Penny is too inexperienced to know what to look for, Jaune would be at risk by himself, Sunset and Pyrrha are not only two of the people best able to protect Amber but also two of the people that Amber trusts most, so having them close by will be a comfort to her. Plus, unlike anyone else, Blake has lived in the shadows and fought in them; if anyone can spot danger lurking there, it’s her.”

“I find there is some sense in what Miss Dash says,” Professor Ozpin said. “The fact is, these children know one another far better than we know them at this point, for all that we are their teachers. Miss Shimmer, Miss Dash, please continue.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset said. She pointed to the red dot on one of the roofs of the tall buildings overlooking the street. “Ruby will be providing close cover from directly overhead, moving to keep pace with Amber and the rest of us down below.”

“Meanwhile, Ciel will be stationed up here, at the top of Frakes’ Folly,” Rainbow said, pointing to the blue dot on top of a particularly tall holographic tower that loomed above the park at the end of the carnival route and all the buildings around it. It was at least twice as high as the other buildings in the vicinity, built in the old-fashioned gargoyles-and-buttresses style, as though it were the last remnant of some grand old fortress that had once dominated the surrounding countryside.

Unfortunately, the whole thing was only built after the Great War.

“From the top of that tower,” Rainbow went on, “she can see right down the road and keep an eye on Amber without needing to change position.”

“Are you suggesting that Soleil should start firing Distant Thunder into a crowd of people?” General Ironwood asked, more mildly than the question might suggest.

“No, sir; she’s already put in a requisition for an ASR-37F for the night,” Rainbow replied. “She’ll have Distant Thunder with her, but the sniper rifle will be her primary weapon.”

General Ironwood nodded silently.

“I’ll be on the other side of the street from Ruby, based on top of the Liver Building here,” Rainbow said, pointing to the other blue dot on the map, to a smaller tower midway down Broadway. “From there, I’ll be able to observe everything going on down below and maintain communications with the rest of the team, so I’ll be exercising control of the operation.”

“Not you, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I won’t be able to get such a clear view of what’s going on from down on the street with Amber,” Sunset said, “but at the same time, it’s best if I stay close to Amber’s side just in case.”

“I’m sure that Dash will be more than capable of commanding this operation,” General Ironwood said. “Assuming that the overall plan is approved.”

There was a moment of quiet, as the clock ground on inexorably above them.

“And if Amber comes under attack?” Professor Goodwitch asked. “Or if Miss Belladonna encounters any danger, or—?”

“In the event that Blake, Ruby, or Ciel spot something that doesn’t feel right, they’ll report it to me, and I will assess the situation,” Rainbow said. “If I decide that the situation warrants it, or if Amber or any member of the team comes under attack, I will give the abort order. When I do, one of the following will happen: if Blake is under attack, then Ruby and Ciel will provide fire support,” Rainbow’s hand clenched into a fist; Sunset suspected that it was taking some effort for her not to add ‘and I’ll swoop in to back her up.’ “If Amber comes under attack, Blake will move back to reinforce the main group protecting Amber and Dove, while Ciel and Ruby provide fire support. If a credible threat has been identified without engagement, then it will be kept under observation.”

“Whatever the case,” Sunset said, “my group will move Amber northwards, off Broadway. Yang will be waiting on Ironmonger’s Way with her motorcycle,” — she pointed to the yellow dot on the hologram — “and once Rainbow issues the abort, she’ll move in on her bike to rendezvous with us and pick Amber up.”

“She will then drive Amber to Aris Crescent, covered by me from the air,” Rainbow said. “We’ve identified Aris Crescent as the nearest place big enough to land a Skyray, so that’s where Twilight will pick Amber up and fly her, Yang, and myself up to the Valiant where she’ll be safe.”

Again, there was, if not silence, then at least quiet; none of the professors said anything.

Professor Goodwitch folded her arms. “The extraction element is the weak link,” she pronounced. “You may not be able to get Amber to safety whilst under attack.”

“That’s why I’m there, Professor,” Sunset said. “If necessary, I’ll hold the attack off while Pyrrha leads the others in getting Amber out of there.”

“Some might call that overconfident, Miss Shimmer.”

“I’d rather call it ‘I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do that in my place,’ Professor,” Sunset said. “And I hope it won’t be necessary.”

“We all hope that, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “We all hope that Amber will have nothing more than a wonderful evening.” He paused. “Nevertheless, Professor Goodwitch is correct; it is the potential weakness of your plan.”

“It’s a difficult situation,” Rainbow said.

“Perhaps an argument for keeping Amber at home,” Professor Goodwitch observed.

“With the main road shut down for the carnival, traffic on the approach roads is likely to be light,” Rainbow said. “Yang shouldn’t be held up.”

“But if a fight breaks out, then people will likely panic,” Professor Goodwitch said. “How will you move Amber through a crowd of confused people trying to run?”

“That’s why we’d rather spot trouble in advance, with Blake,” Sunset said. “But if need be, we’ll just have to force our way through however we can.”

Professor Goodwitch frowned. “Professor Ozpin, I acknowledge they have done the best they could, but this whole notion puts not only Amber but innocent lives in danger. If Cinder is in Vale—”

“Then she doesn’t know that Amber is, Professor,” Sunset pointed out.

“Be that as it may, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch replied, “it is a great risk.”

“And yet the alternative is to cage Amber already,” Professor Ozpin murmured.

Professor Goodwitch bit her lip for a moment. “It is unfortunate, but it is her fate. The fate of all Maidens.”

“A fate I bestowed upon her,” Professor Ozpin said. “A destiny that she cannot escape because of me. If this is her last taste of liberty, then … let her drink from it.” He looked into Sunset’s eyes. “You have done well, Miss Shimmer, and you, Miss Dash; this is well thought out. You may go now and tell Amber the good news.”

Sunset smiled and bowed halfway from the waist. “At once, Professor, and thank you.”

The holographic image of Vale vanished from above Professor Ozpin’s desk as Sunset picked up her scroll, putting it in her jacket pocket as she and Rainbow Dash both walked back to the elevator at the far end of the room.

Soon enough, they were on their way down to the base of the tower.

“That went okay, I thought,” Sunset said. “I mean, we got what we wanted.”

“Professor Goodwitch could have had a little more faith in Blake,” Rainbow muttered.

“As if it isn’t killing you that you don’t get to back her up as soon as she gets into trouble,” Sunset muttered.

“That … that’s different,” Rainbow replied. “That’s … just because I don’t like the idea of leaving Blake in the lurch doesn’t mean that I don’t think she can handle herself. I know she can handle herself; I just don’t really like the fact that I have to stand on top of a tower while she fights.”

“That’s command, I suppose,” Sunset replied.

Rainbow wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Yeah,” she said. “If you could, would you switch places with me?”

“I can’t,” Sunset said.

“I know you can’t,” Rainbow said, “but if you could. If you didn’t have to be down there for Amber, would you be willing to be the one on top, making all the decisions?”

“While Jaune and Pyrrha were down there, on the ground?” Sunset asked. She shook her head. “No. No, I wouldn’t switch with you.”

“I didn’t think so,” Rainbow said.

They were silent for a few seconds, with only the gentle humming of the lift to disturb them as it bore them downwards.

“I’m a little surprised that Amber still wants to go through with this,” Rainbow said. “I mean … if I knew Cinder had just killed somebody in Vale, I wouldn’t go down there for a party. Well, maybe I would, but I can take care of myself; Amber—”

“Knows how to fight; she just doesn’t want to,” Sunset replied. “She really doesn’t want to. So what are you saying, that she ought to cower in fear of Cinder?”

“It’s not cowardice,” Rainbow insisted. “It’s … some risks aren’t worth taking.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say that to Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said.

“Hey, we agreed to come up with a plan, and we presented the plan,” Rainbow replied. “Doesn’t mean that I understand what Amber’s thinking.”

“Amber is thinking that, tomorrow night, she’s going to get bundled off to Ruby’s house in the sticks, and from there, she’ll get bundled off again to some miserable lonely place, and that this might be her last chance to have a little fun,” Sunset said. “I know … I know that it’s for her own protection, but that doesn’t mean … I don’t like it. I don’t really like anything about this. I still trust Professor Ozpin, I think he’s trying to do the right thing, but everything about this … sticks in my craw; I can see why Pyrrha’s tolerance has snapped.”

“When you told us about the Maidens,” Rainbow said, “I thought that hiding them was a bad choice. I thought that you could defend them better by putting them under heavy guard, a guard who knew what they were guarding and how important. Which is us, I guess, so we’re actually putting my theories into practice.” She paused. “But … I’m not sure that Amber would enjoy life on a cruiser, or in a fortress, to be much more fun than life in a hiding place.”

“They’re both prisons, of sorts,” Sunset said.

“Pretty sure they’re not,” Rainbow replied.

“She can’t leave, can she?” Sunset asked.

“Okay, that sounds very clever, but I’m pretty sure most prisons don’t let you out to go to the carnival,” Rainbow pointed out.

“That … is also a good point,” Sunset admitted. “But even so … you’re right. I’m not sure there’s a scenario in which Amber’s life is wholly pleasant for her. Certainly, it’s not the life she would have chosen.”

“We don’t always get to choose how our lives turn out,” Rainbow said. “Sometimes … sometimes, the only choice we get is whether we’re going to make the best out of the hand that we’ve been dealt. At least she has Dove with her, or she will have. So she won’t be completely alone.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, that’s the silver lining to all of this.” She hesitated. “Do you … do you think that’s enough? That they love one another, that they have one another … is that enough? Is that all it takes, having the person you love beside you?”

“Why are you asking me something like that?” Rainbow asked.

Sunset looked at her for a second. “I don’t know, really,” she admitted, a touch of laughter in her voice. “Because you brought it up, I suppose.”

Rainbow snorted. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Only if what you think is comforting,” Sunset said.

“Right,” Rainbow muttered. “Okay then.”

She did not tell Sunset what she thought.

Instead, she said, “So … Phoebe was Cinder’s stepsister all along, huh?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, and left it at that.

“And you knew?”

Sunset did not look at Rainbow Dash. “Yes,” she said. “I knew.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “And she — Phoebe, I mean — she … she made Cinder this?”

“She didn’t make her a servant of Salem; I still don’t know that part of the puzzle,” Sunset admitted. “But yes, she made her the sort of person who would do the things that Cinder has done. Someone angry at the world, someone hurting from their injuries. Someone who wants payback.”

“She’s got that now,” Rainbow replied. “I suppose it’s too much to say that she’ll stop.”

“I wish she would,” Sunset said. “But I fear not.”

“No,” Rainbow murmured. She was silent for a second, and then for a second more. “I never … it makes me think … I wish it didn’t, but…”

“What does it make you think of?” asked Sunset.

“It makes me wonder if there could be others like her,” Rainbow said. “Hiding their villainy behind the white. I wish I didn’t, I wish I could trust everyone who wears this uniform, but if Phoebe could be a monster and nobody could see it, then … could there be others?”

“It’s possible, I suppose,” Sunset replied. “Although I can’t think of any off the top of my head. Is there anyone you suspect?”

“No,” Rainbow replied. “But … maybe I might, in the right — or wrong — circumstances.”

The elevator came to a stop, and they both walked out as soon as the doors opened. The lobby of the CCT was not quite empty — there were a few people coming in to make late afternoon calls to distant kingdoms — but it was very quiet, and nobody got in their way as they headed out onto the grounds of the school.

The grounds were not so quiet, with people following the path towards the docking pads; the fairgrounds held no more delights for them today, and they wanted to go home. Of course, not everyone was leaving right away, and there were still a fair number of people in and around the fairgrounds as Rainbow and Sunset went in search of Amber.

They found her, and everyone else — Pyrrha, Ruby, Dove, Penny, Yang, Ciel — gathered around a fenced-off paddock, watching Jaune not get thrown off a horse.

The horse — a white one, dappled with patches of brown — was trying very hard to throw him off, bucking wildly, kicking with its hind legs, sometimes leaping up into the air with all four legs off the ground, tossing and stamping, doing everything that it could, but Jaune was hanging on in there.

In fact, he didn’t even look as though he was having to try very hard to do it. In fact, as far as Sunset could make out as she and Rainbow approached, he was smiling, and even able to free one hand to wave to the crowd, who responded by cheering his gallant efforts.

Rainbow folded her arms. “You know, he’s not bad.”

“'Not bad'?” Sunset repeated. “He looks pretty good to me.”

“I’ve seen Applejack do that bareback on a bull, that’s good,” Rainbow declared. “But Jaune isn’t bad.”

“No, he certainly isn’t,” Sunset said. “I suppose I should have known that someone who would do what he did to get into Beacon would have a stubborn streak.”

As they got close to the paddock and their friends, Sunset walked up to Pyrrha, who was standing on the right-hand side of the group, and leaned upon the metal barrier.

“Did you know he could ride a horse?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “But he’s very impressive, isn’t he?”

Sunset watched Jaune for another couple of seconds, clinging on to the horse with a practised ease. “He certainly is,” she said. “Where did he learn to do that? At home?”

“Apparently,” Pyrrha said. “He’s making me wish that I knew how to ride horses.”

Sunset smiled. “So that you could go on romantic rides together?”

Pyrrha’s cheeks flushed a little. “I’m afraid so, yes,” she murmured.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sunset said. “I think it sounds pretty cute.”

“Jaune isn’t the only one who knows how to ride!” Penny declared. “You missed Amber showing us her barrel weaving! She was so quick and agile.”

“I’m not that good,” Amber murmured. She looked from Sunset to Rainbow Dash and then back to Sunset again. “So … what did Ozpin say?”

“He said we’re okay to go,” Sunset replied. “If … if you still want to. I mean … it could be … if you don’t feel like it, if you’d rather not, if you’re—”

“Scared?” Amber suggested.

“No one would blame you if you were, in the circumstances,” Sunset said.

Amber smiled and walked around behind Ruby and Pyrrha to approach Sunset. “But I’m not afraid,” she said, “not anymore. I’m not afraid because … well, because I’m with all of you.” She smiled. “I feel safe with you. Safer than I’ve felt since … for a long time.”

“Well, that,” Sunset scratched the back of her head with one hand. “That is both very sweet of you to say and puts a great burden of expectations on our shoulders. But, if that’s how you feel, then as soon as we’ve rounded everyone up and you’re ready to go, we can leave.”

Emerald watched them go, watched them climb aboard one of the skyliners ferrying people down from Beacon into Vale.

And they hadn’t been shy of making known where they were going either. They would stand out in their huntsman and huntress outfits — ironically, since some of them looked a lot like costumes, Pyrrha — which would make them easy to find.

The number of them around Amber, and the quality as well, was a little concerning; Ozpin wasn’t being completely careless with Amber’s security. Emerald had observed that she was never alone, there was always someone — Yang, Pyrrha, Ruby, Penny — close at hand to ensure her safety, and that was even more pronounced now, when the whole gang was there.

When considering the numbers, and the quality of those like Pyrrha and Sunset, Emerald considered simply not mentioning Amber’s trip into Vale to Cinder. Let Cinder remain ignorant of it, let her stay away from Amber and from all the weapons gathered for her defence.

But she couldn’t do that. Cinder would not want her to do that. Either she would damn the odds and attack anyway, or she would be cautious and sensible and do what Emerald would rather she do, but either way, it would be her choice.

Hers, not Emerald’s.

Emerald could not deny her this, even though … though she couldn’t see that it would lead anywhere but further sorrow, nevertheless, Emerald could not deny this to Cinder. She could think Cinder was going in the wrong direction, she could advise and plead, but she couldn’t decide for her. Only Cinder could do that.

Emerald got out her scroll.

Author's Note

Put a pin in Jaune being able to ride a horse, it will come up later.

Rewrite Notes: At this point it might be easier to list the chapters that weren't completely rewritten, of which this would not be one. Obviously, Amber isn't sneaking out this time, and a lot of the chapter is dedicated to how the gang plans to keep her safe. Also, Cinder running into Amber is set not to be a coincidence, but the result of Emerald's observation.

Rising Sun (New)

Rising Sun

Neptune whistled. “Imagine being able to get the Amity Colosseum for a private event?”

“I mean, you make it sound like she’s throwing a party up here, dude,” Sun said. “Although now that I’ve said it, I’m kinda surprised that they don’t do that.”

“They do,” Neptune said. “It’s the tournament afterparty. How did you not know that?”

“Because I grew up without TV, and nobody told me anything about this,” Sun replied. “You’re lucky I even know what the Vytal Festival is.”

The two of them were stood in the tunnel, the same tunnel in which they had stood that same day, together, preparing to go out and fight their two on two match.

Things were a little bit different now. It was dark, for one thing, with night having fallen outside. It made the tunnel darker than it had been when they had been waiting before, without the sunlight coming into the corridor from outside. The only light now came from the floodlights around the edge of the battlefield itself, and they were all pointed inwards, towards where the contestants would be — if there were any contestants — and they didn’t send a whole lot of light in the direction of Sun and Neptune.

There were lights in the tunnel itself, but they weren’t that bright, and anyway, Sun preferred sunlight to artificial lights; it just wasn’t quite the same to him. They were too cold, for one thing.

The other big difference was how quiet it was. Back then, earlier today, the arena had been full of people, more people than Sun had ever seen before in his life; the stadium had been heaving with them. They’d been packed in tighter than the popcorn was stuffed into the cardboard tubs that they were selling it in — and that was saying something, because those tubs could hold a lot of popcorn — and all of those people, all of that huge number of people like Sun had never seen before, they had all been making noise like…

Well, like Sun had never heard before either.

When Sun had first come to Mistral, he had thought that it was huge; it was huge, it was so much larger than Vacuo City; even the most packed location in downtown Vacuo had nothing on any market in Mistral. And he had thought that Mistral was loud too, as loud as it could possibly get, with so many people crammed together in one place making noise.

And then this tournament had begun, at which point, Sun had realised that he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Those crowds sure knew how to raise the roof.

Not that the Amity Colosseum had a roof, but, you know.

The point was, they were loud. This tournament had been loud. It was a good thing that some of the crowds out there making the noise were cheering for him, or it might have been a little intimidating.

But now, the crowds were silent.

The crowds, in fact, weren’t even there at all, so it was the arena which was silent.

Because there was no one there.

Which was a big change from earlier today. It was … kind of weird. Just Sun and Neptune, waiting in that tunnel, in the dark, with no sound outside. No one singing that Mistralian song, no one cheering, no one yelling.

No sound at all but what they made.

Yeah, a little odd, after the last couple of days.

But, at the same time, like Neptune had said, it was kind of impressive that Councillor Cadenza had been able to pull this off.

“Must be nice being an Atlesian Councillor,” Sun said.

Neptune nodded. “Must be nice being any kind of Councillor.”

“Nah, being a Vacuan Councillor kind of sucks,” Sun said. “Nobody takes any notice of anything you say, and everyone knows that the headmaster of Shade is the guy who’s really in charge.”

“Really?” Neptune asked.

“Yeah, really,” Sun said. “I mean, there’s no police, there’s no military, there’s no … nothing. There’s nothing but huntsmen, and they can’t even fire the headmaster.”

“Yeah, you’re right, that does suck for them,” Neptune muttered. “Sounds like barbarism to me.”

“It would to a Mistralian, sure,” Sun replied.

“Isn’t it?” Neptune asked.

Sun thought about it for a moment. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it pretty much is. Although Headmaster Theodore talked about sorting things out a bit. Not sorting things out so much that he wouldn’t be in charge anymore, but sorting them out. Making things a bit more—”

“Civilised?” suggested Neptune.

“Normal,” Sun said.

“I can see why you didn’t want to go to Shade,” Neptune said. “Who does want to go to Shade? How do they have any students?”

“So,” Sun said, “you know how you told me that rich Mistralian aristos who don’t like their own kingdom enough go to Atlas because they think it’s everything that Mistral isn’t?”

“Because they think that it’s organised and disciplined and people there still have some respect for authority and breeding,” Neptune confirmed.

“Right, yeah, that,” Sun said. “Well, Atlesians who don’t like their kingdom go to Shade because they think Vacuo will be everything that Atlas isn’t: wild and free with nobody to tell them what to do.”

Neptune was silent for a moment, looking upwards a little bit as though he was thinking over what Sun had just said. “So … if the Mistralians are going to Atlas, and the Atlesians are going to Shade, doesn’t that mean that you should have gone to Beacon with a bunch of other Vacuans?”

It took Sun a moment to work out what he was talking about. “You mean … and the Valish would go to Haven?”

“Round and round in a great big circle,” Neptune said. He folded his arms. “But talking about you going to Atlas—”

“We weren’t—”

“Yeah, but let’s talk about it anyway,” Neptune said. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Do I wanna go out there and fight this guy, or do I wanna move to Mantle?”

“Both,” Neptune said, “but you could lose the fight — in fact, you probably will lose the fight —”

“Hey!” Sun protested.

“What?” Neptune asked. “No offence, but you’re up against a qualified huntsman, a guy who won the Vytal Tournament in his year—”

“And a guy who's been guarding a door in Atlas for years since,” Sun pointed out.

“Okay, sure, maybe he’ll be rusty,” Neptune granted. He hesitated for a second. “Do you really wanna do this?” He scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I mean, dude, I know she’s hot—”

“Blake is not hot; she’s gorgeous.”

Neptune frowned. “What’s the difference?”

“I don’t know,” Sun said, “But there is one. Calling her hot feels, I dunno, kind of … I can’t explain it; it just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

“No,” Neptune said. “No, I don’t know.”

“Well, I know, even if I can’t explain it to you,” Sun said. “But, anyway, the point is that it’s not about that.”

Neptune’s eyebrows rose sceptically.

“Okay, it’s not just about that,” Sun said.

Neptune’s eyebrows remained in their raised, sceptical position.

“It isn’t!” Sun cried. “Yeah, it’s some about that, but it’s also … it’s also about doing some good, you know? Doing some good for people who haven’t had much good done to them, or many people to do good to them.”

“And you can’t wait another three years because—”

“Because bad stuff is happening all over now, and it’s not waiting for us to graduate!” Sun cried. “Kidnappings, robberies, slavery, it’s all going on right now, this instant, and if I wait around for three years, who knows how many people will get hurt in the meantime? People that I could have helped. And that’s the point, really … say I waited and stayed at Haven until I graduated, then … Mistral has tons of people who can fight for it, and who will step up and fight for it when the time comes? You, Sage and Scarlet, I guess; Team Auburn, Team Jasmine — Pyrrha! Mistral has, or it’s gonna have, or it has and is gonna have, a ton of heroes. Who does Mantle have right now?”

Neptune was quiet for a little bit. “All valid reasons,” he said. “But also because of Blake, right?”

“Oh, totally, yeah,” Sun agreed, nodding his head vigorously.

Neptune chuckled. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you too much. But I will miss you, though. I can’t believe you’re leaving me with Scarlet.”

Sun laughed. “You’ll be fine. Hey, without me around, Scarlet might actually sweeten a little bit.”

“I don’t think Scarlet has any sweet in him,” Neptune said. “He’s as sour as grapefruit with no sugar. And you know how much I need sugar on those in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sun said. He hesitated. “I’m gonna miss you too, man.” He grinned. “Hey, you could come with me! We could—”

“Thanks for the offer, dude, but from what I’ve heard about Mantle, it doesn’t seem like my scene, at all,” Neptune declared.

“Why, what’s it like?”

Neptune’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? Are you … are you kidding me right now?”

“What?”

“Wh—… sometimes, I think Scarlet might be right about you,” Neptune muttered. “Have you not done any research, anything at all, about the place you’re going to go and live in? You haven’t even opened a book?”

“I know it’s in rough shape; that’s why I want to go there.”

“'Rough shape' is putting it mildly,” Neptune said. “I … I don’t know, I’m not an expert, but you should probably try and become, maybe not an expert, but at least not an idiot about it in the next few days before you move there! Gods.” He shook his head. “The point is that post-industrial derelict style is not my style.” He grinned. “And besides, I’m not sure how your new Atlas friends would feel about two of us moving to Mantle to become vigilantes together. I think they’re only tolerating you because they like Blake so much.”

Sun thought about that for a second. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, that’s probably fair.”

“Plus,” Neptune went on. “You know that if I did decide to drop out of school and move to Mantle, my mom would absolutely flip her lid. Like, she would actually kill me.”

“She wouldn’t be able to reach you in Mantle.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her to hire the Iron Grenadiers to black bag me from Mantle back to Argus so that she could throw me into the harbour herself,” Neptune said. “And that’s nothing compared to what she’d do to you for talking me into it.”

“Yeah, you should probably stay in school,” Sun said. “Hey, listen, dude … I’m sorry that I wasn’t a great team leader over the last year.”

“You weren’t around much for a lot of the last year,” Neptune pointed out.

“So it was pretty much impossible for me to be a good team leader, wasn’t it?” asked Sun. “All the same, I’m sorry. Lionheart should have chosen … well, you probably.”

“Me?” Neptune said. “You…” He pointed at himself. “You think I should be team leader?”

“Yeah, sure, why not you?”

“Why me?” Neptune asked. “What about Scarlet?”

“Scarlet? No way,” Sun said. “Scarlet wants it, sure, but that doesn’t mean that he’d be any good at it. He might try, but … he’d follow you more easily than me, so you’ve got that going for you, Sage likes you, everyone likes you, you’re like Yang that way, and that’s why you’d make a good team leader.”

“But…” Neptune trailed off. “Where would I even start?”

“How would I know?” asked Sun. “I was a terrible leader, remember?”

“Yeah,” Neptune said. “Yeah, you were.” He held out one hand. “But you were an okay friend. Now get out there and try to kick his butt.”

Sun clasped Neptune’s outstretched hand and arm, squeezing Neptune’s wrist. “I’ll do my best,” he said. He pulled Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang — linked together in their combined staff form — off his back, and twirled it in his hand.

I mean, if I lose, I can still go to Mantle and be even more of a vigilante than I’ll be if I win.

Or lose while still impressing the guy, I guess.

But I’ll try and win, 'cause otherwise … why wouldn’t I try and win?

He stepped out of the corridor and into the silent arena.

“Woohoo!” cheered Mrs. Belladonna. “Go, Sun!”

Sun turned and walked backwards towards the ring itself, thankful that the colosseum was not completely silent. “Thanks, Mrs. B!” he yelled out to her as he waved. “Or Lady B, sorry.”

“Either’s fine,” Mrs. — or Lady — Belladonna called back to him. “Just focus and do your best, honey.”

“Will do,” Sun promised. It was really nice of her to come up here — or stay up here — and cheer for him. He kinda wished that Blake could have done the same, but she had to work tonight, protecting that Amber girl. Sun wasn’t entirely clear on why Amber needed protecting, but Blake said it was important, so … it was important.

And maybe it was better this way. He’d be able to surprise her with the news of whatever happened up here tonight, rather than being distracted by her being up here watching him.

The arena was bare; there were none of the biomes that had risen up out of the arena to provide terrain to fight on during the day — of course, even during the day when he and Neptune had walked out here, the terrain hadn’t been ready and waiting for them; it was just that, tonight, it wasn’t going to come up either.

They were going to be fighting on the flat tonight, upon the white surface, with the symbols of the four academies on the floor and the metal struts criss-crossing it.

That was the surface that Sun walked across, his footsteps so light that they made no sound at all, adding to the quiet of the colosseum.

The air was crisp tonight, but he’d had colder nights by far back home. This was nothing at all.

He wondered briefly how a night in Solitas would compare to the desert cold of a Vacuo night. He probably should have asked Blake how cold it had gotten for her in Atlas.

Sun reached the hexagon in the centre of the arena, the same hexagon where he and Neptune had waited for their match to start today, with half the crowd cheering them on.

Unlike then, his opponent now wasn’t here yet.

Yet.

A clanking thud echoed out of the tunnel on the other side of the arena, the tunnel that Sun could only just make out thanks to the lack of light. But he could hear the sound just fine; he could hear all the clanking footsteps coming, heavy footsteps, almost like a massive grimm but too metallic, pounding footsteps echoing out of the dark.

Until eventually they weren’t coming out of the dark, and Sun could see what was making the noise. Shining Armor — because Sun could still see his head, which was bare — was wearing something that reminded Sun a little bit of Twilight’s armour, only it was a lot bulkier and blockier and not at all sleek or rounded like the suit that his sister wore.

Still, it was armour, and fancy armour too. A lot of Haven students wore some kind of armour, but it was all the old-fashioned kind, metal or linen or metal and linen, like the kind their ancestors had worn since way back when, back before the Great War, back when Mistral was young. Shining Armor was wearing modern armour; he was wearing better than modern armour, armour that let out little whirring noises when he moved — Sun could only hear them now that he was getting closer — like the whole thing was powered.

It probably was.

The armour was blocky, with lots of square parts to it; the centre over his chest and stomach was segmented, so at least he could move his waist, but his shoulder pauldrons were big and boxy with what looked like little guns mounted on them, and the armour that completely covered his arms and hands was square too, with joints only at the elbows, until you got to the fingers, which were segmented again. The legs didn’t even have that; it was like … honestly, it was like a kid wearing cardboard boxes and pretending to be a robot.

Only Sun, who would never say that out loud, thought that this armour was probably a little tougher than cardboard.

Also, cardboard boxes didn’t have pipes like engine thrusters sticking out of the back of the legs — well, you could use toilet roll tubes for that if you really wanted to — and what he thought looked like more thrusters on his back, with two exhausts visible sticking up past his shoulders.

The armour was purple, with gold outlines surrounding each individual piece where it joined with another — gold around the knee where it met the two leg pieces, gold around the armour, gold around the shoulders, everywhere, there was gold surrounding purple. Sun was kind of glad that they were doing this at night; he might have been blinded otherwise. In the centre of the chest piece was a six-pointed lavender star on a shield, which Sun guessed was Shining Armor’s emblem.

Shining Armor had a shield, a kite-shaped shield, resting on his left arm, while strapped to his right arm, there was a grey rifle that would have looked like a pretty normal Atlesian rifle — one of the ones with a scope — except that it was about as big as Ciel’s rifle, and that was huge.

Also, from the way it was glowing, Sun guessed that this rifle shot lasers.

“Hey,” Shining Armor greeted him. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Um … yeah,” Sun murmured. “Is that … are you gonna … you’re gonna wear that to fight?”

“I wouldn’t have put it on otherwise,” Shining Armor replied. “It’s pretty neat, huh? Twily made it for me. I haven’t had the chance to wear it in a while; I ought to thank you.”

“You don’t, uh, you don’t think it’s a little much?” Sun suggested.

“I want to see what you’ve got,” Shining Armor said. “It wouldn’t be much of a test if I went easy on you.”

“I guess not,” Sun agreed. “So … does this thing fly? Because I know that Twily—”

“Made Rainbow Dash’s wings, yeah, she did,” Shining Armor agreed, “but as you might have noticed, Sibling Supreme is a little bit heavier than the Wings of Harmony, so all I can really do is—” He stopped talking as his armour lifted about a foot off the ground, lifted up by jets coming out of the soles of his feet.

“That’s pretty cool,” Sun said. He paused. “Sibling Supreme, is that its name?”

“Yeah,” Shining Armor replied. “Something wrong with that?”

“No,” Sun said quickly. “No, no, nothing at all. That’s a great name.”

He stopped talking and tried to start thinking instead. That armour, even assuming that there weren’t any other tricks in there like hard light shields or nothing, would combine with aura to make Shining Armor tough, strong, and probably fast as well. Sun’s only hope was to, well, hope that it wasn’t too manoeuvrable on top of all that. If he could stay in Shining Armor’s blind spots, then maybe he could hammer him from the back and sides, use his semblance, just stay out of the guy’s way.

It would have been easier if the biomes were active — some of them anyway — but never mind.

He’d have to do his best.

“Go for it, honey!” Cadance shouted.

“Take him down, Sun!” yelled Mrs. Belladonna.

Shining Armor grinned. “Nice to have at least one fan, right?”

“Kick his butt, dude!”

Sun grinned right back. “I think I’ve got one more than you tonight.”

Shining Armor chuckled. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna need the support.” He descended back down to the surface of the arena, landing with a thump upon the metal. His head disappeared from sight, concealed beneath a helmet that emerged with clanks and rattles out of the chest to cover up his head. The helmet, too, was square and blocky, with a pair of purple eyes blazing out of it and a pair of horns coming out of the sides like a bull.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice coming out kind of distorted compared to what it had sounded like before.

Sun twirled Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang in one hand. “I guess I am,” he said.

“Okay then,” Shining Armor said. “There’s no commentator to count us in, so what’s say we get started?”

“Sounds good to—” Sun was cut off as the rifle strapped to Shining Armor’s arm detached itself, floating in the air for a second before Shining Armor grabbed it by the grip, lifted it up with one arm, and started shooting.

Blue laser beams — yep, called it — leapt from the barrel of the gun, forcing Sun to dive out of the way as the bolts zipped past him to slam into the shield surrounding the battlefield.

“You could have waited until I said I was ready!” Sun yelled as he dodged out of the way of Shining Armor’s hard-light beams, the fire from the huge rifle tracking him as he jumped and rolled.

“Think of it as a test of your reactions,” Shining Armor said as he kept on trailing Sun, turning in place, always keeping Sun under fire.

Worse, he sounded like he was having fun as he said it.

Sun gritted his teeth as he jumped out of the way of a couple of blue bolts, bolts which flew through the space where he’d been to slam into the shield behind him.

He didn’t know whether Shining Armor was deliberately letting him dodge or whether he really couldn’t hit him, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to impress anyone by just not getting hit.

Probably not; he didn’t know what Shining Armor’s standards were like.

It wasn’t a chance he was prepared to take.

But he might need to take a chance of a different kind.

Sun stopped running, clasping the first two fingers of both hands together above his chest — just below the point at which Shining Armor’s bolt of hard light slammed into him like a hammer blow. Sun felt a tingling like a static charge, like rubbing a balloon against his hair then sticking it to his hand, running through his chest and all over his body, the vestige of the pain making itself felt through his aura as he was thrown backwards and onto his back on the ground.

He felt a prickling sensation everywhere, like his hand sometimes felt when he woke up having slept on it, but his aura was still up, so he didn’t have a hole in his chest or nothing.

He lay still on the ground, because being still was the price for using his semblance.

There was a faint chiming sound as four clones, insubstantial but golden, shining in the darkness, burst out of Sun and scattered in different directions, breaking off to the left and the right, circling around the battlefield before charging towards Shining Armor.

Shining Armor shot at them, his rifle blazing, bolts erupting out of the barrel as he walked backwards over the metallic surface of the arena, retreating to open up more ground between himself and Sun’s clones. Sun grinned a little bit as he directed his clones like a puppeteer directing his puppets, having them leap and roll out of the way just like he had leapt and rolled out of Shining Armor’s fire, all the while closing the distance upon his opponent.

Shining Armor hit one of the clones anyway, in spite of Sun’s dodging, making it dissolve into motes of light and making Sun wince in pain — he could feel a little bit of what the clones felt; it was the price he paid for being able to direct them like this — but before he could take any more shots at the others, they were right on top of him.

All three clones leapt upwards before descending down on Shining Armor with fists and legs drawn back to strike.

Shining Armor took cover, turning his body and bringing his shield up to protect himself.

Sun’s clones hit the shield, and all of them exploded at once, bursting into blazing balls of light that engulfed Shining Armor — for all of a couple of seconds before Shining Armor burst out of the light, still holding his shield before him, gilding over the surface of the arena, levitating a couple of inches off the floor while using the thrusters on his back and legs to hurl him straight towards Sun.

Sun summoned two more clones — he still had time for that, just about — which threw themselves between Sun and Shining Armor, both of them grabbing at the Atlesian, trying to hold him backwards.

It didn’t work, the two clones weren’t strong enough, Sun could feel them being pushed back, just like he could see them being pushed back, like objects caught in a tide.

He summoned two more clones — he was kind of stretching himself here; he could feel his aura dropping like a rock — but hopefully, he wouldn’t need to keep this up for very long. Those two more clones rushed to join their fellow clones and were just enough to slow Shining Armor down, bodily holding him back.

The fifth clone — Sun gritted his teeth and hoped that his aura didn’t give out on him — burst out of Sun’s body to rush straight towards Shining Armor, his movement slowed, held back by all the other clones.

The fifth clone launched himself at Shining Armor with a flying kick that struck the Atlesian squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards and off-balance — just as all five clones exploded all at once.

Sun breathed a sigh of relief as — finally able to move again — he sat up and saw Shining Armor tumble backwards towards the—

The thrusters on his back fired before he hit the ground, lifting him up and righting him, setting him down again on his feet with a solid thud.

A thud that sounded a lot like Sun’s chances in this fight.

“Oh, come on,” Sun protested.

Shining Armor didn’t reply, he just let his shield drop from his arm — it hit the floor heavily, landing upon the Haven Academy symbol where it was painted on the surface — as his rifle transformed in his hands into a giant two-handed sword, as big as Shining Armor himself or maybe even a little bigger, single-edged, with that edge being a beam of hard-light.

Kind of overkill, don’t you think?

Shining Armor’s rockets launched him up into the air, maybe only a few feet up but enough that he could drop down again right on top of Sun, his enormous sword hefted up.

Sun remained where he lay as the sword swept down, but he brought his staff up to take the blow, the soft blue beam clashing with the bright red staff as Shining Armor landed, straddling Sun, his impact making the floor under Sun tremble.

Sun grunted, the muscles on his arms standing out, his veins bulging under his skin — if only Blake could see this, huh? — as he struggled to hold back Shining Armor’s sword. Dude was strong. Or maybe that was just the armour. Or it was a little bit of both.

Either way, it was taking a lot out of Sun to hold him off. In fact, he wasn’t really holding him off, his arms were giving way, they were starting to shake, his elbows were bending; Shining Armor’s sword was getting closer to his chest.

Sun lifted up his legs and lashed out sideways with them both, a scissoring kick aimed at the back of Shining Armor’s left knee, coming in just over the top of his thrusters. It didn’t cut Shining Armor’s leg out from under him, but it did bend his knee, made it jerk forwards and off to the side a little.

Made his sword break off for a second.

Sun launched himself through the gap in Shining Armor’s legs, passing between them and spinning around as he passed so that he was looking up at Shining Armor’s back, able to see all the rockets attached.

Able to see Shining Armor turning around a lot slower than Sun had moved.

Sun split Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang into their component halves, the nunchucks whirling in his hands as he raised two of the nunchuck-shotguns and unloaded them into Shining Armor one after another with a pair of roaring bangs. He flipped the weapons in his hands, switching from the empty to the loaded halves of the weapons, and fired again, two more blasts echoing in the silent arena.

Sun really wished that he could see how much aura Shining Armor had left. But then, Shining Armor would be able to see how much aura he had left as well, and that didn’t feel like much.

Sun leapt to his feet, using his nunchucks as, well, as nunchucks, whacking Shining Armor on the side a couple of times before leaping away as Shining Armor finished turning, backflipping across the arena surface out of reach of even that gigantic sword.

Sun reformed his staff out of both his weapons; it still didn’t give him reach against that two-hander, but it was better than nunchucks.

Shining Armor looked at him for a moment, then levelled his sword at Sun like a lance. His blade didn’t have a hard-light tip, but Sun guessed the metal would hurt him a bit if it hit him just the same.

Shining Armor thundered towards Sun, sword drawn back but still looking pretty outstretched with how big it was. Sun sidestepped, batting the sword aside with a swipe of his staff. Shining Armor set one foot down especially heavily and converted his thrust into a sideways slash aimed at Sun’s midriff. Sun parried with his staff, blocking the blow even as it pushed him sideways, his feet sliding along the slick metal surface beneath him. Shining Armor turned in a circle, and Sun was turned in a circle too, whirled around Shining Armor until he dropped down, letting the enormous sword pass over his head.

Shining Armor dropped the sword, just like he had dropped the shield earlier, letting it fall down at his feet like it was nothing at all.

Sun leapt up, staff spinning in his hands as he rushed—

The guns on Shining Armor’s shoulders opened fire. Yep, they were machine guns all right, and they were spitting bullets right at him. Sun braced, spinning Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang in front of him in a swirling red circle, rounds deflecting off of the spinning staff to fly in all directions, slamming into the shield that protected Mrs. B and Councillor Cadance.

Shining Armor kept up the fire as he produced what looked like a tube from out of his wrist.

A beam of hard light, like the one that Trixie had used in her fight against Sunset, emerged from out of it.

The motors of Shining Armor’s suit whirred as he drew back the sabre.

Sun gripped his staff tightly in both hands.

They stared at each other for a moment, then attacked, each at the same time, rushing towards one another. Sun whirled his staff, lashing out with it, meeting the slashes and the thrusts of Shining Armor’s hard-light sabre. Shining Armor slashed at him, but Sun parried it away before bringing his staff down on Shining Armor’s shoulder, a blow Shining Armor took on the forearm before brushing Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang aside. He slashed again, upwards and diagonally, but Sun parried again, countered only to have his own hit blocked.

Shining Armor retreated and thrust at him, Sun turned the blow aside and tried to take advantage, but Shining Armor pulled his sword back just in time to protect himself.

And so it went, back and forth, slash, parry, counter, parry again, break off for a second, then one of them would attack again, and so, the cycle would restart, with a blow from the left or right, up or down, always countered. Neither of them was strong enough to break through the other’s guard, neither of them could—

Shining Armor swept Sun’s staff out of his hands with a flick, sending Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang skittering away across the surface of the battlefield.

Shining Armor’s helmet retracted with a set of clanks and rattles, revealing his face. “I think I’ve—”

Sun hit him, punching him square on the nose, sending his head snapping backwards as far as the design of his suit would allow. He drew back his fist for another blow.

Shining Armor grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground.

“That’ll do,” Shining Armor said. “I’ve seen enough.”

Sun’s legs kicked at the air. “Were you holding back?”

“Of course,” Shining Armor said. “I wanted to see how good you were, not how fast I could take you out.”

Sun was silent for a second, legs still kicking, tail shaking this way and that. “And?” he asked.

Shining Armor was quiet for a second. “You’re pretty fast, pretty fast with your hands or your weapon too, quick thinking, and you can handle yourself in a fight. Your semblance burns through your aura, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sun admitted. “It’s a pretty cool semblance, don’t get me wrong, but I think it would have drained me out if I’d tried to use it again. I probably used it too much.” He paused. “But I wouldn’t have had to use it if you hadn’t been wearing all … that.”

Shining Armor snorted as he set Sun down on the ground.

“Overall, I’d say you’re all right,” he said. “In fact, I’d even say you’re pretty good. I can see why your team decided to send you into the finals, although I wouldn’t put money on you taking the crown at the end of this tournament.”

“That’s … not exactly encouraging,” Sun replied.

“Kid, I’m not saying that you’ll definitely be knocked out in your first one-on-one match; I’m just saying don’t be too disappointed if you are,” Shining Armor told him. The hard-light sabre in his hand fizzled out, the beam retracting back into the tube. “As for your future plans … are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay in school for three more years?”

“Do you think I’d learn much if I did?” asked Sun.

“Learn to fight? No,” Shining Armor said. “I doubt you’d come out at the end of your fourth year much better than you are now. Would you be wiser, a better leader, more tactically proficient … probably, yes.” He paused. “But Cadance says you’ve made your choice, no matter what anyone says. Is that right?”

Sun nodded. “I know what I want, what I want to do, where I want to go. Back to school isn’t it.”

Shining Armor raised one eyebrow. “I hope she’s worth it.”

“It’s not—”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, if it is,” Shining Armor assured him. “What you’re doing … I think it’s pretty cool, even if it is also dumb as a bag of rocks. After all, what’s the point of being a young man if you can’t be dumb for love?”

“Were you?” Sun asked.

Shining Armor grinned. “I was so dumb I almost let love slip right through my fingers without ever realising it. I don’t blame you for wanting to be close by for the next three years, but Atlas—”

“I want to be close by, but I don’t want to smother Blake either; I don’t want to…” Sun hesitated for a second, thinking it through, putting his words in order. “I will always be there for Blake, but I don’t think Blake needs me to be always there, you know? She’s got so much going on in her life, so much that she wants to do and that other people want her to do and to be, so many plans … I don’t want to be the clingy guy, the guy who has to always have her close—”

“The guy who sends an a capella troupe round to his girlfriend’s work because he feels neglected?” Shining Armor suggested.

Sun stared at him.

Shining Armor smiled. “At first, I was puzzled when I saw Twily’s friend Rarity in the Council building, along with some people who I didn’t know. Then they started singing to one of the secretaries.” He paused. “They were pretty good, but you probably won’t be surprised to hear the relationship didn’t last.”

Sun chuckled. “I’ll always be there when she needs me,” he repeated. “But she doesn’t need me all the time; she’s got … so many other people to help. And there are so many other people who need someone to help them, because Blake can’t do everything by herself.” He hesitated. “One of the weird things about this year has been watching this place change. Vale, I mean, not Beacon. I never really stuck around in any one place to see it change before, or if I did, I didn’t notice because I was still getting to know it. But Vale … I’ve seen Vale change, and for the worse. I think it might be kind of nice to see a place change for the better, especially if I could say that I had something to do with that.”

Shining Armor nodded. “I can see the attraction,” he agreed. He sighed. “I … I can’t say for certain that you’re the saviour that Mantle has been looking for, because I’m not sure that you’re that good … but also because I’m just not sure that any one person can save Mantle. But I also think, based on what I’ve seen, based on my judgement, that you won’t die the moment you set foot in Mantle, so I will tell Cadance that you are up to this, and in the morning - because this should be done in the light of the sun, not in darkness - you can take the oath to me, and Cadance will sort the paperwork out and you will be a huntsman. Something that Blake won’t be for another three years.” He smiled. “Congratulations, Sun Wukong.”

“Really? I passed! Yeah!” Sun cried. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. I won’t—”

“The only person you can let down, the only person you should worry about trying not to let them down is yourself,” Shining Armor told him. “Just … don’t have any regrets.”

“I won’t,” Sun assured him. “I won’t have a single one.”

Be Free and Fare Thou Well (New)

Be Free and Fare Thou Well

The Liver Building was so called because it had once been the home of the Royal Liver … Liver Company? Or was it Liver Insurance? Royal Liver something, anyway, and they must have really been something because their old headquarters was still a pretty big building; it wasn’t the tallest building in Vale anymore, not by a way, with big towers around like the one Ciel was perched on top of, but it was still pretty big, up and across, with two clock towers set at either end of it, the clocks facing north and south across Vale. The style of the building was not really old-fashioned — it was built of reinforced concrete for a start — but it wasn’t hypermodern either; it was kind of in-between, solid and firm, but with a few old-style decorative touches on it, like the stone crown at the top, running between the two clock towers, which was done to resemble the crenellations of a castle wall, or the round domes on top of the clock towers: one was golden like the sun, the other silver like the moon.

Whatever the name of the company that had built the building had been, both the company and the building had been named after liver birds, and statues of said birds sat on the roof, chained down at the feet, looking down over Vale below.

Rainbow stood amongst the statues. Ruby had said that the liver birds were mythical creatures who had inhabited the coast when the first settlers had founded what would go on to become Vale, and that the statues were chained down because if they were ever to fly away then Vale would be destroyed by flood. Personally, as a result of birdwatching with Fluttershy, Rainbow thought that the birds depicted on the statue looked like spoonbills, birds which were very much alive and not mythical in the least. But she supposed that if they’d lived long enough ago it was possible that nobody had been able to draw pictures of the real thing, and anyway these statues were so high up hardly anyone would be able to spot the details anyway.

In any case, Rainbow had one hand upon one of the liver bird statues, resting on top of its head, as with her other hand she held up a pair of binoculars up to her eyes — the reason not to use the magnification on her goggles was in case she suddenly needed to look at something much closer, which could get awkward — and used them to sweep up and down the street.

“Okay, com check,” she said, speaking into the earpiece lodged in her, well, ear. “Everyone report in.”

“This is Yang, I’m right here if you need me.”

“Blake here. I’m about … thirty yards in front of Amber’s current position, nothing sighted so far. I’m continuing to move forward.”

Rainbow’s gaze swept down the street. It was hard to make people out in this crowd, from this distance, what with all the motion and the dancing, and everything, but she was able to catch sight of Blake, her white vest kind of glowing, or seeming to, underneath her black waistcoat.

“I see you,” Rainbow said. “Can you see anything?”

“Not at the moment, I just told you.”

“I meant ‘are you confident that you could spot a threat?’” Rainbow clarified. “There are a lot of people out here.”

“This is Sunset, I’m here with Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny. Not to mention Amber and Dove.”

“That’s great, but I need to hear it from them,” Rainbow said.

“Hello, Rainbow Dash,” said Penny.

Rainbow snorted. “Hi, Penny. How are you doing?”

“I didn’t expect there to be this many people.”

“Although I suppose we probably should have,” Pyrrha remarked. “I mean, this is Pyrrha here.”

“And Jaune here, receiving you loud and clear.”

“Are you saying you think we should abort?” Sunset asked.

“Would Amber go along with it if we did decide to abort?” Rainbow replied.

“I think so,” Sunset said. “I’m not sure she’d be happy about it, but I think so.”

“There are a lot of people out here,” Rainbow remarked. “But, like Pyrrha said, we probably should have known that there would be a lot of people out here; if we abort now, with no actual danger, just because we didn’t realise that a public event in the Vytal Festival would have a lot of public present then we’ll look like idiots.”

“I’m not sure that our saving face is a good reason to keep Amber in harm’s way,” Pyrrha remarked.

“Neither would I, but we don’t know that she is in danger,” Rainbow said. “I just wish that I could see more clearly from up here. Blake, you never answered my question, can you see clearly? Do you trust yourself to spot a danger or is the crowd concealing it?”

“I can see,” Blake said. “I know where to look and I know what I’m looking for. I’m fine.”

“Then we’re fine,” Rainbow said. After all, she’d told Professor Goodwitch that she trusted Blake, and she did, so she would. “Ruby, how’s it looking from your side of the street?”

“It is packed,” Ruby said. “I’m glad I’m up here and now down there. But I can see Blake, and I can see Amber and everyone else, too.”

Rainbow looked up the road; she spotted Pyrrha first, distinctive in her gilded armour — even when people were wearing costumes, Pyrrha’s Mistralian gear stood out, even more than Jaune’s armour over his hoodie — and then everyone else afterwards. Amber and Dove were in the middle, with Pyrrha, Sunset, Jaune, and Penny gathered around them. They looked like bodyguards, there was no getting around or away from that, but nobody seemed to be objecting to it or to the fact that they were armed. There was a slight degree of width being given them, but not too much — not too much from the perspective of someone who wanted to feel like part of the carnival anyway, from a security perspective the wider the better.

Amber and Dove didn’t seem to notice — no, that was wrong, they clearly noticed, it just didn’t seem to be bothering them too much. They were dancing, in the middle of their protectors. Or at least they were trying to dance, it wasn’t going all that well, it was like watching Twilight’s dancing. Rainbow guessed that they didn’t have a lot of practice.

Considering that Amber had been raised alone with her mom and visits from old Professor Ozpin, and that she had spent a lot of time with old stories, it wasn’t surprising that she was a bit arms and legs when it came to modern dancing.

And that kind of went for Dove and his rustic village, too.

They looked ridiculous, but at the same time it was kind of charming, if only because they were both so into it.

When two people look as happy as that, does the quality of the dancing even matter?

“Ciel,” Rainbow said, addressing the one person who hadn’t reported in yet. “Are you okay up there?”

“I can hear you,” Ciel said. “And for what it may be worth I think we should continue for now.”

“How’s it looking up there?” asked Rainbow.

“They are a handsome couple,” Ciel declared.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Ciel said, a little amusement creeping into her voice by the backdoor, like a teenager trying not to wake their parents. “I have a clear view of the entire thoroughfare, and I have eyes on Blake. Like her, I see nothing to be concerned about at present.”

“Good,” Rainbow said. “That’s what I like to hear.” She paused. “Okay, I’ll call for regular checks. If anyone doesn’t respond I’m going to abort. If you see anything or hear anything or even sense anything, let me know, okay?”

“Copy that,” Ciel responded.

“You got it,” said Ruby.

“Understood,” said Sunset.

Rainbow Dash lowered the binoculars. “Good luck out there, everyone.”

She fell silent. Everyone fell silent. There was no sound on the line.

Up here, so far from the partying crowds moving slowly and fitfully along down below, there was very little sound at all. She could hear, just about, a mélange of noise rising up from the road towards her, music and voices, but all vague and indistinct; it was like the arena, but worse. There the crowd sounds all mingled together, but they sounded loud at least, even if not very clear. The only sound that Rainbow could really make out from down below was someone playing a trumpet; maybe it was Flynt. Probably not, that would be pretty long odds, but if he was using his trumpet then that would explain why Rainbow could hear it faintly rising to make itself known above the other sounds.

Everything else was just a bit of an audible blur, really, although she imagined that Blake, Sunset, and all the others weren’t feeling the same way actually down in the carnival.

Rainbow was glad that the earpieces they were wearing had noise-cancelling to cut out all that excess sound, otherwise it might have been a struggle to understand what they were saying.

As it was, she could barely hear a thing, all the sounds were far away.

Except for…

Rainbow switched the hand that was holding the binoculars, and with her now-free hand she reached up and tapped the button on the lower back of her earpiece, switching the setting to one-way. For now, she would be able to hear what was being said, but nobody would be able to hear her speaking.

Nobody would be able to hear her as, taking a step back from the edge of the Liver Building and the statue of the liver bird, Rainbow turned around, facing the nearest clocktower, which also provided a route up onto the roof — the same route that Rainbow had used to get up here — and said, “Applejack? And who’s that with you?”

“I’m afraid it’s me, darling,” Rarity said, as she and Applejack stepped out from around the back of the clocktower, into Rainbow’s view. Rarity had a bag slung over one shoulder, and she was holding onto the strap with one hand.

“How did you know it was me?” Applejack asked.

Rainbow grinned. “Because you said ‘shhhh, sugarcube’.”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed a little.

“What are you two doing up here?” Rainbow asked.

“Do you think that maybe we oughtta be askin’ you that question, sugarcube?” Applejack suggested.

“This is the end, culmination, and high point of the Vytal Festival,” Rarity said. “You’ve just won a place in the final rounds of the greatest competition in Remnant. The whole of Vale is celebrating. And yet here you are, standing up on the roof - at the top of a very long flight of stairs I must say - with only these statues for company.” She paused. “You look as if you’re auditioning for the role of a grim and brooding superhero.” She ventured a faint smile. “I have to say your hair doesn’t really match the aesthetic, darling.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Okay, but Twilight—”

“We heard Twilight, and we heard Blake,” Applejack said. “And what we heard didn’t sound like the whole truth. I guess we were hopin’ that you’d be a little more honest with us.”

Rainbow was silent for a second, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “I mean … Twi told you that we had a mission, right?” she said.

“Eeyup,” Applejack said. “That she did. Somethin’ about the headmaster — Professor Ozpin, not even the General — the headmaster’s niece, if Ah recall.”

“You recall correctly,” Rarity murmured. “Professor Ozpin’s niece, who requires so much protection that you all have to provide it, and yet at the same time requires so little protection that it must be provided by students.”

“Hey, there’s nothing little about our protection,” Rainbow said. “We’ve done this really well, if I do say so myself.”

Rarity held up one hand. “No offence intended, Rainbow, of course, I merely meant to draw attention to the… well, the slight absurdity of this being done as an extracurricular activity, as opposed to Professor Ozpin hiring a huntsman or two if he is so concerned about his niece’s wellbeing.”

“It don’t make a whole lot of sense to us, is what we’re sayin’,” Applejack said. “It feels like there’s some part of all this that you and Twilight and Blake are leavin’ out. And Ah know that we aren’t the only ones who feel that way, Cadance feels it too, and Blake’s momma as well. Now Cadance is willin’ to trust you, although how much of that is because she’s already asked you the questions and gotten no answers from you Ah don’t know, but—”

“But you don’t trust me, is that it?” Rainbow asked.

“Ah would trust you with mah life!” Applejack declared, taking a step forward. “Ah just… Ah ain’t so sure that Ah trust you with yours. Whatever was goin’ on in Mountain Glenn, whatever you and Blake got yourselves involved in, and now this… there’s a lot of unanswered questions around you and we worry about you, Sugarcube. We worry about you and we worry about Blake and we worry about Twilight—”

“You don’t need to worry about Twilight,” Rainbow assured them. “Twilight is fine and Twilight is going to be fine, I guarantee.”

“Ah know,” Applejack said. “And Ah believe you, because Ah trust you with Twilight too.”

“Which is why we’re more worried about you, darling,” Rarity added. “You and Blake.”

“You can trust me with Blake, too,” Rainbow said.

“Can Blake be trusted with herself?” Rarity asked.

“I would say actually, yeah,” Rainbow replied. “More or less. Now.” She paused. “Listen, guys, I appreciate that you are concerned, and maybe in your position… okay, certainly in your position I would be concerned and I’d want answers too.”

“And I doubt you’d take no for an answer,” said Rarity.

Rainbow drew in a deep breath, and let out a laugh. “No,” she admitted. “No, I probably wouldn’t.”

She turned away from them, saying, “I have to get back to this, even if we’re not done.” She walked back to the edge of the building, and raised the binoculars to her eyes, sweeping over the partygoers in the carnival down below.

She heard, rather than saw, Applejack and Rarity coming to stand both on her left, since the statue on her right was obstructing the view from that direction.

“So Blake is down there somewhere, Ah guess?” Applejack said.

“Yep,” Rainbow said. “I’d give you the binoculars so you could see her, but I need to keep an eye on things.”

“You runnin’ this show?” Applejack asked.

“No need to sound so surprised,” Rainbow said. “Yes, I’m in charge. Sunset is down there in the field, I am up here … deciding whether or not to abort or not.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it, darling,” Rarity said.

“She ain’t happy about it,” Applejack said. “She wants to be down there with Blake.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if Blake were up here and I were down there,” Rainbow said. “She could do with some command experience. She was a team leader, briefly, but she wasn’t a very good one, not very … involved with her teammates. I think that she could do better the second time around.”

“Then why didn’t you suggest that she command from up here, if that would make you happier?” asked Rarity.

“Because this is a serious mission, and I — we, Sunset and I — thought that Professor Ozpin wouldn’t go for our plan if we left command in the hands of someone who didn’t have experience,” Rainbow said. “And besides … Blake is well-suited for her part of the mission. She’s on up ahead to ferret out danger in advance of Amber and the others.”

“I see,” Rarity murmured. “And Twilight, she—”

“Is up in the sky, waiting for the word,” Rainbow said. “If everything goes well tonight she won’t have to do anything at all.”

“Surely if everything goes well tonight then none of you will have to do anything at all,” Rarity said.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Yeah, that’s right. If everything goes well.”

Neither Rarity nor Applejack said anything for a second. There was silence, or near silence, what with the sound coming up from the carnival down below.

“You know,” Applejack said. “That could be us.”

“If things were different, maybe,” Rainbow said. She frowned, and lowered the binoculars so that she could look at Applejack and Rarity. “Is that where Pinkie and Fluttershy are right now?”

Rarity shook her head. “It was considered, what with it being an experience, and you know that Pinkie would just love it,” she said. “But, ultimately, the fact that this was considered something that required such a degree of protection for Professor Ozpin’s niece made us decide that we couldn’t really risk bringing the girls. Just how dangerous is this event, darling?”

“Hopefully it isn’t dangerous at all,” Rainbow said. “It shouldn’t be dangerous to anyone—”

“Except Professor Ozpin’s niece?” asked Rarity.

“Amber,” Rainbow said. “Her name is Amber.” She paused, and raised the binoculars to her eyes again. “That being said… yes. Except to Amber.”

“What is it with this girl?” Applejack asked. “Sugarcube, what is goin’ on?”

Rainbow didn’t reply.

Rarity rummaged in her bag, making a noise that was much louder to Rainbow’s ears than anything coming from the carnival below. “Would you care for some tea, darling?”

Rainbow looked to see that Rarity was offering a vacuum flask, a royal blue one without any other colours or decorations on it.

“Thank you,” Rainbow said quietly. She raised her voice a little as she said, “You’re really not leaving here without an answer, are you?”

“Nope,” said Applejack.

Rainbow chuckled. “Rarity, would you mind pouring me that, I need to keep hold of these.” She held up the binoculars.

“Of course, darling,” Rarity said softly, unscrewing the lid off the flask, that could also serve as a little cup, and pouring out some of the brown, milky-looking tea into it. She held it out towards Rainbow.

Rainbow took it in one hand, downing practically the whole cup in one go. It was a little bitter, but not too much so on account of the milk. And it was warm, which was the main thing.

“Thanks,” she said, before going quiet. “I trust you with my life, too. You know that, right.”

“We know,” Applejack said.

“And I think Blake would say the same,” Rainbow went on. “And I know that Twilight would.”

“We know that too, darling,” Rarity said softly.

“I know,” Rainbow whispered. “I know that you know.”

She would have run one hand through her hair, but she didn’t have a hand free. Instead, she raised her head and looked up at the moon, shining down upon them all. The broken moon, with all the little pieces hanging up there. Rainbow had often wondered why they didn’t fall down. Twilight said they were being held in place by the gravity of the moon itself, the big part; that didn’t explain to Rainbow why they never looked like they were moving at all. Surely gravity would have pulled them back in by now and they have smashed into the moon like pieces of a jigsaw — or maybe something not as neat, but anyway, it was less like gravity and more like gravity dust.

Only dust didn’t work in space, so it couldn’t be that.

I’m distracting myself, aren’t I?

“I trust you with my life,” she said quietly. “But I’m not allowed to trust you with hers. You’re right, there’s more going on than you realise, but I can’t tell you what it is. And honestly… I’m not sure you want to know. There are times when I wish I didn’t know.”

There. She’d said it. She couldn’t have said that to Ciel, or Sunset, or Penny because one and all they would have judged her for it. She couldn’t have said it to Twilight, because although Twilight wouldn’t have judged… Rainbow didn’t want Twi to think of her as weak that way.

She certainly couldn’t have told Blake, and for much the same reasons that she couldn’t have told Twilight: Rainbow didn’t want Blake to think of her in that way.

But Applejack, and Rarity… them she could tell. She couldn’t tell them why, that there were times when the things that Rainbow knew felt like a tumour in her brain constantly pressing down against everything else in her head, but she could tell them the plain fact of it.

Yeah, sure, it was better to know, it was better to be a part of something, to do what she could; Rainbow knew all that, and she didn’t really regret being a part of all this, doing her part to protect Atlas. But the lying, even to the people who were closest to her, the mealy-mouthed excuses for why she couldn’t say anything, the way that knowing about Salem made everything seem like so much more of a grinding battle of attrition than just defending the kingdoms against the grimm had seemed, the way that Professor Ozpin was willing to trade lives for time, the way he’d been willing to give up one of either Pyrrha or Amber give himself some breathing room.

The memory of Salem herself, down in the tunnels under Mountain Glenn, what she’d put in Rainbow’s head, what she’d made her feel.

It was a lot. It was like a constant headache.

“That sounds ominous,” Rarity muttered.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t…” Rainbow paused. “It’s not meant to… it’s the truth, but don’t get too down about it.”

“It ain’t always that easy, Sugarcube,” Applejack pointed out.

“I know,” Rainbow murmured. “But… I promise, I will not let anything happen to Blake or Twilight. I won’t let them come to harm.”

“And you?” asked Applejack.

Rainbow grinned. “You know me. I always come back, even if I’m carrying someone else across my shoulders. I’ll be fine.” She paused. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, but … if you wouldn’t mind sticking around I… I’d appreciate the company.”

Rarity smiled. “We’d be glad to, darling.”

Yang leaned back, her butt resting on her bike, which was in turn resting against the wall.

A polythene box filled with noodles slathered in ketchup, that she had bought from a van parked just a little way down the street, sat on the seat of Bumblebee, just next to her.

In her hands Yang held a magazine, Buffs, Babes, and Bikes, which she looked at for the pictures of the motorcycles, obviously, and not for the various attractive models who they took pictures of posing alongside them. Not that she would ever let Ruby catch her with this, it had been bad enough when Nora found them.

So Yang stood there, flicking through the motorcycle pictures, occasionally reaching down to twirl a few noodles around the plastic fork and put them into her mouth — they were holding their heat pretty well, and Yang liked the texture of them, the feeling of the oil they’d been fried in — as she waited to be needed, possibly.

Of course, she would only be needed if things went sideways at the carnival, so she should really be hoping for a quiet night.

Around her, the street was on the move, people were walking past her in both directions, headed this way or that; there was practically no traffic, she hadn’t seen or heard a car or another bike go by in ages, but there were plenty of pedestrians, passing her by without so much as a glance in her direction.

Not too long ago — as in, just days ago — Yang would have taken that as a pretty sad metaphor for her own existence, but now … it felt a bit weird to say that being involved in the war against an undying witch was making her feel better about herself, but, well… being involved in the war against an undying witch was making her feel better about herself.

Yeah, maybe she would have a quiet night tonight. Maybe she would stand here, with her magazine, buying food out of trucks parked on the kerb until morning came, but so what? If that happened it would be because everything was working out for Amber, there was no sign of Cinder, and nobody was in any danger, and that was a good thing. It wouldn’t be because nobody trusted her, or thought that she had a part to play in all this.

In fact, as much as she might not do anything tonight, if she did do something then she had one of the most important jobs in the whole plan. If anything went wrong then she was the one who would have to get Amber to safety, her, with only Rainbow Dash to support her. That was pretty important, you had to admit.

Yang certainly had no problem admitting it. It was pretty important. She was pretty important. And that didn’t change even if she had a quiet night.

A raven croaked from somewhere up above, it must have been perched on a roof somewhere.

Yang flicked the page of her magazine, although she was barely looking at it, lost in her thoughts as she was.

She… did she really want to do this all the time? Did she want to devote her whole life to it, the way that Mom had? Maybe not, was the honest answer; she wasn’t sure that she wanted to be on call all the time, ever-ready to drop everything and do Professor Ozpin’s latest bidding, run his errand, fight his battle. But she wanted that to be her choice, made on her terms, and not made for her by people who couldn’t see past who her birth mother was.

The only thing we share is long wavy hair, and sometimes eye colour. I’m nothing like her.

The raven croaked again; Yang ignored it.

And just because I don’t want to give up my life doesn’t mean that I’m not prepared to do the right thing. It doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to help out when necessary. Just because I don’t want to be always at the beck and call doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be trusted.

I’m stronger than Ruby is, I’m better at close quarters, I’m pretty much as good as Pyrrha is, so why shouldn’t they trust me?

An intuition prompted Yang to look up, from thoughts and magazine alike, and see Lavinia Andronicus walking towards her. She was wearing a white summer dress with flower print and a frilly neckline, and had partially covered up her prosthetic arms beneath a pair of old-fashioned opera gloves with gold scrollwork around the top where you pulled them on. Her hair was tied up in a bun behind her, except for two long strands that fell down on either side of her face to frame it.

A smile played across her face as she sauntered over to Yang.

Hey, she signed.

Yang blinked. Hey yourself, she signed back. What are you doing out here?

I could ask you the same question, signed Lavinia. What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this on the second night of the Vytal Tournament?

Yang grinned. Okay, first of all, I asked first. Second of all, what kind of a girl am I?

A cool one, signed Lavinia.

A laugh jumped out of Yang’s mouth. Well thank you, for that, she signed. But you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?

I came here to see you, Lavinia signed. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who can read sign language competently?

We all took classes.

I’m sure you did, Lavinia replied. But the number who remember it is disappointingly rare. It’s… She paused, her fingers still and unmoving. It’s cool to find someone outside of my team who can understand me. And even cooler when the person who can understand me is someone that I… that was a good fight today. You were good out there.

Nora got the final blow in that took you out, not me.

Your friend Nora was good too, don’t get me wrong, Lavinia signed at her. But don’t sell yourself short.

Yang grinned. Are you telling me that I should think I’m all that because you couldn’t beat me? Someone’s not too modest.

What’s the point in being modest? Asked Lavinia. Nobody’s ever going to give you any credit for it, at least not in Mistral. Anyway, the point is, you can understand what I’m saying to you, and you seem like a pretty cool person, so… I was wondering… if you wanted… to hang out, or something? Lavinia cringed. That looked really pathetic, didn’t it?

What? No! No, not at all, Yang assured her. Before you think too much of me, be aware that you are giving my memories of sign classes a real workout but, with that said, and give you a warning that I may have to jump on this bike and run off at some point, although I hope not, sure, I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you either. She gestured to the polythene box. You want some noodles?

Lavinia looked down. Is that ketchup on those noodles?

Yeah.

Lavinia’s eyes boggled. Ketchup on noodles? What kind of a barbarian are you?

A Valish one, Yang signed back.

Oh, well that explains everything then, signed Lavinia.

Yang laughed. Do you want any or not?

No, thank you, I’m good, Lavinia signed. So what are you doing out here? After all, I answered. So now it’s your turn.

I guess that’s only fair, Yang signed. I’m waiting.

For someone?

Sort of, Yang replied. Someone or something. Someone might need me to pick them up and give them a lift, but only maybe. Or I might be free to spend all night out here.

And you’re okay with that? Just waiting all night on a possibility? There’s nowhere you’d rather be? Like … wherever cool girls go in Vale.

I wouldn’t actually know, Yang replied. I’m not as cool as I look.

Lavinia’s only reply to that was a sceptically raised eyebrow.

But no, Yang went on. I don’t actually mind, because… She paused, considering her next words, or signs. You must feel like you’ve got something to live up to, right? What with your dad, and all your brothers. I mean, if I’m out of line just tell me, but—

No, it’s fine, Lavinia signed, although she didn’t say anything else for a few seconds. I know what you mean. It is a lot. People expect a lot. Or at least it sometimes seems like they do. Maybe all they really expect is that I’ll get myself killed doing something brave and noble like so many of my brothers did.

I’m sure that’s not true, Yang told her.

I’d like to believe it isn’t, but I’m not sure, Lavinia replied. The point is that you’re right. My father was a great huntsmen, my brothers were brave, fearless even, true protectors of the people. My name, Andronicus, is a name to conjure with because of their courage and their accomplishments. If I did anything else, if I took any other path in life, I would be seen as… as having betrayed that legacy.

Would you want to do something else? Yang asked. If your name was something else, if you had a choice?

No, Lavinia signed back instantly. Especially not now.

Yang frowned. What do you mean?

Lavinia shrugged. You won’t have noticed, but the world isn’t always that kind to people with robot arms. As a huntress, I’m a hero; walking down the street I’m a freak, even if my name is Andronicus.

Yang was quiet for a moment, wondering if there was anything she could possibly say that would rise above the level of banal platitude, and whether — that being the case — it might be better to keep her fingers still. But then, that might seem indifferent more than anything else. That isn’t right, she signed eventually, feeling like it was a lame thing to say even as she said it.

Maybe not, Lavinia signed. But it is anyway. She paused. But, if I’ve made you think that I had some big dream that was ruined by societal prejudice, not really. After all, hunting things is what my family does. What else was I going to do? Just because I like horses doesn’t mean that I was going to become a groom, or even a jockey. I’m happy with what I chose. It’s a worthy cause, isn’t it?

Oh, yeah, absolutely, Yang replied.

But why do you ask, about my family?

Because… because it’s kind of the same for me. With legacy and all. I never had so many brothers, I’m the oldest in my family, but I do have something to live up… and something to live…

Lavinia tilted her head to one side. If you’d rather not talk about it—

Then I shouldn’t have started talking about it, should I? Yang signed back. My mom was a hero. She gave her life to protect the world, as a huntress, and because of that I’ve got a lot to live up to. But at the same time… there’s someone else, another person, a coward who ran away and abandoned the battle and their family, and that… half the time it feels as though everyone is just waiting for me to follow in her footsteps.

Just because people expect something doesn’t mean that it’s guaranteed to happen, Lavinia signed.

But that doesn’t stop them from expecting it, signed Yang. The point is, that’s why I’m here, because if there’s a chance to show that they’re wrong about me, that I can, that I will rise above the bar on the floor and get a little closer to my mom’s legacy then I’ll take it. I’ll take it every time.

Lavinia nodded. Understandable. Perfectly understandable. Even on a night such as this. She paused. If you have to go then that is fine. But until then, I hope you will permit me to enjoy your company while I have it.

Tempest didn’t like this.

She didn’t like being in this carnival, and she didn’t like the way that at least certain people were looking at her, but more than that she didn’t like the fact that Amber was here.

She didn’t know what the girl was thinking.

Of course, she had been down to Vale before, and it was possible that this trip was no different from the others, and that Amber had no notion of any greater danger than before.

That was possible, just as it was possible that there really was no greater danger than before, but Tempest doubted it. She doubted both of those.

As far as the danger went, there was the fact that Phoebe Kommenos, one of the Atlas upperclassmen, had been murdered last night; she knew that because her teammates — one of her teammates in particular — had stormed into the cafeteria to announce it loudly and angrily. Which, alone, she might have attributed to Sonata’s good work in stirring up anti-Atlas sentiment; except that not long after the late Phoebe’s teammate had accused Pyrrha of the crime, Sunset Shimmer had got up from the table and stalked off up to Beacon Tower. Now, why would she do that? Because she was scuttling off to see Professor Ozpin. Why would she do that? Because she knew something about this death.

And Cinder had left the house.

Tempest had not been too concerned when Bon Bon told her that Amber was going down into Vale for the carnival that night, but then Lightning Dust had called her in a panic to tell her that Cinder and Emerald were both missing, that neither she nor Sonata had noticed them leave, and that they didn’t know how long they’d been gone. That was bad enough, bad enough for Tempest to rebuke Lightning for her incompetence — she was considering leaving her with Sonata when all this was over, it was clear that Lightning would be of no use to her — but even worse because it put the pieces together in Tempest’s mind.

Cinder had killed this Phoebe Kommenos, although for what reason escaped Tempest. But then, Cinder’s motives were often opaque, especially to those who didn’t buy into her idiosyncratic way of viewing the world.

Regardless of the why, Sunset Shimmer thought that Cinder had done it, and that was why she had rushed off to tell Professor Ozpin about it.

And Cinder was still in Vale.

Did she know about Amber? Did she know that Amber was awake? Tempest didn’t know; certainly neither she nor Bon Bon had told her, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know, she could have… she could have seen Amber on a wideshot of the fairgrounds on a news report about the tournament, although it would be bad luck if she had. But she was still in Vale, for whatever reason, and that meant that coming here was dangerous for Amber.

And they knew it too, Sunset Shimmer and all the rest, that was why Sunset, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, and Penny Polendina were all arrayed around her, that was why Blake Belladonna was scouting ahead, and if Ruby Rose wasn’t up on a rooftop somewhere with her sniper rifle then Tempest would be astonished. They knew, or at least they feared. In which case it was foolish of them to bring Amber here, but then they were a sentimental lot, weren’t they?

That was why they would fail.

Did Amber know that she was in more danger than before? It was possible that they hadn’t told her of the risks, but that would have been unlikely. Why would her friends hide the truth from her like that? But, if they had told her, why would she come down here anyway?

It occurred to Tempest that Amber might have decided to come down here because she wanted Cinder to make an attempt on her life, and thus fall upon the blades of her protectors. It was even possible that she knew that Tempest and Bon Bon would have to kill Cinder rather than allow her to die; that was a very cynical thought, and it seemed unlikely coming from such a nice, sweet girl … but that was just the word, wasn’t it? She seemed so nice.

‘She seemed so nice’ was what the neighbours said on the news about the woman who had just poisoned her husband of eight years before smothering the children in their beds and taking enough pills to euthanise a small elephant. She seemed so nice.

They were, after all, talking about a girl who had decided to sell out her friends and her cause for the promise of safety for herself and her boyfriend, obviously she wasn’t that nice.

So when the idea came to Tempest’s mind that Amber might have engineered this entire situation to bring about Cinder’s death, or even just that she was hoping for that outcome, she did not discount it.

And if it happened, if Cinder attacked, then … she couldn’t be allowed to kill Amber, not now; not now that Salem had made the bargain with Amber. Not least since Cinder would undoubtedly work out that Tempest, and possibly even Salem herself, had betrayed her.

What would Amber do, once Cinder was dead? She would still betray her allies, or at least Tempest hoped she would. After all, even with Cinder dead, there would be other Cinders. She knew that Salem would never stop hunting the Fall Maiden until she had obtained the Crown. And so, even absent the most immediate danger, she would still give up the crown in order to preserve her own life, and that of the boy she loved.

Sentimentality again.

Tempest had decided against having Bon Bon join the others in protecting Amber; leaving aside the question of necessity — they seemed to have done a fairly good job regardless — having Bon Bon be armed would raise some questions. She had to decide to place some faith in Ozpin’s agents to do their jobs, while she scouted ahead looking for trouble, and for Cinder.

Hopefully she would not come, hopefully she didn’t know that Amber was here or even awake. Hopefully this night would pass quietly.

But if she did come, Tempest would be ready.

And if she had to end this, once and for all, and put Cinder out of her misery, well… that wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen, would it?

Cinder lurked behind a couple of bins — the big, almost industrial ones, that clubs and restaurants disposed of their garbage in at the end of the night — in a small, dirty, rather shabby little alleyway off Broadway; it was an intensely squalid place, but it was out of sight of the street itself.

A bin was hardly a place for a warrior to conceal themselves, but it would serve to conceal her until she was ready.

Cinder breathed in and out. Her obsidian blades were already formed, and held before her; in the darkness, with the moonlight obscured by the tall buildings that rose up ahead of and behind her, they were almost invisible. Mostly she felt them, rather than seeing them, she felt the hilts of the swords in her hands.

She would not really see them until she stepped out into the main road, and everyone else could see them too.

She heard a slight sound, a footfall, light and soft, so soft that she barely heard it. But she heard it nonetheless, a moment before Sunset— no, no it wasn’t Sunset, it was Emerald wearing a Sunset costume. That was rather amusing. It had tickled Cinder when she first saw it, and it still amused her now.

Although Emerald did not like wearing it, nevertheless it brought the slightest smile to Cinder’s face, the pricking of one corner of her lip.

Besides, although Emerald was dressed in some dark colours, Cinder could at least see her by the bright, fiery colours of her wig.

“How now, Emerald?” Cinder asked. “Is she there?”

“She is,” Emerald said, sounding a little breathless. “She — they — landed at the skydock, and now they have joined the carnival. She’s heading this way. But Cinder, she is well protected. Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny Polendina, they’re all close by her, like bodyguards. Blake is up ahead, trying to catch sight of trouble before it gets too close to Amber.”

“And Ruby?” asked Cinder. “The other Atlesians?”

“I don’t know, but probably covering the others from high ground,” Emerald said. “Cinder… I think… I think this might be too much for you.”

Cinder snorted. “Tell me, Emerald, did you have to think long and hard whether to tell me that Amber was coming into Vale? Did you consider leaving me ignorant?”

“No,” Emerald said at once. “I don’t want you to do this, but… no, I didn’t consider lying to you.”

“No?”

“No,” Emerald said again. “Would a lady lie to her friend?”

“Oh yes, definitely, if she thought that she had a good reason,” Cinder replied. “Or simply because she thought that it would benefit her.”

There was a pause. “That doesn’t seem very honourable.”

“No, it isn’t,” Cinder acknowledged. “But in truth, there is very little honour to be found amongst the upper slopes of Mistral. In all those lofty palaces you will struggle to find anyone who isn’t primarily concerned with their own advantage.”

“That sounds a lot like everywhere else,” Emerald pointed out.

“But far more comfortably appointed,” Cinder said. “And with much greater freedom from consequence.”

“Hmmm,” Emerald murmured. Her voice remained quiet as she said. “I think this might be too much for you.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know, but you didn’t take any notice of me the first time I said it,” Emerald pointed out.

Cinder was none too keen to respond to the point now, either, so she said, “Did you see Tempest or Sweetie Drops at all, when you were at Beacon?”

“I saw Bon Bon talking to Amber at Beacon, and Tempest far more recently,” Emerald replied. “She’s … trying to stay out of Blake’s way while doing the same thing that she is doing, or so it seems to me.”

“I see,” Cinder whispered. She closed her eyes. “So, they have betrayed me. Salem has betrayed me.”

“You don’t know that—”

“They would not dare do this without her leave,” Cinder declared. “Amber has betrayed Ozpin, Sunset, Pyrrha, and the rest; and Salem has betrayed me.”

“Why?” Emerald asked. “Why would she do that? When I saw Bon Bon with Amber… I don’t understand. I thought that perhaps she didn’t know that Amber was the Fall Maiden, and I didn’t tell her because I wasn’t sure that she was still with us, but I don’t understand. Why have they betrayed us? Why would Amber work with Salem?”

“Because Salem offers her protection from me,” Cinder said. “And because Amber knows where the Relic is, which I do not. Amber will give up the Relic of Choice to Salem, Salem will cease all further attempts on Amber’s life, and I…”

There was a moment when neither Cinder nor Emerald said anything. All the sound was the music of the carnival, the banging drums, the horns, the raucous singing. It drifted into the alleyway, like grimm drawn to the dark thoughts that swirled around Cinder’s mind.

The fact that these grimm promised only annoyance instead of death did not make them any more welcome.

“And you?” Emerald asked quietly.

“And I am no longer needed,” Cinder said. “They will kill me.”

She closed her eyes. So, we are come to it. The clock strikes twelve.

And so they wait for me, all my foes, just beyond the alleyway. All I need do is step into the light and find … my fate. I do not call it destiny, but fate. It waits for me. It calls to me. They call to me, Sunset and all the rest.

The readiness is all.

Emerald’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper. “Let’s go, Cinder,” she said. “You can’t fight them, not all of them, Sunset, Pyrrha, Tempest, you can’t beat them all and even if you did there would still be Amber to contend with and we barely beat her the last time when we had Mercury, and Lightning Dust. This is not a battle you can win. And you know that.” Her voice trembled. “I know that you know that, and that’s why I think that you… I know that you want to go out there but please, please don’t. Come away, with me.”

“Come away where?” Cinder asked. “Go where?”

“Anywhere!” Emerald cried, a piercing shriek leaping out of her voice for a moment, only to fall back into her throat as she became quiet again. “We can go to Anima, and get the treasure that you told me of, buried under the cherry tree. We can live … anywhere. Anywhere you like.”

Cinder smiled, although she didn’t know if Emerald could see it or not. “To live in a cottage in the woods somewhere together, you and I?”

“If… if you like,” Emerald said.

“Sunset offered me the same thing, once,” Cinder told her.

“Did she?” Emerald muttered. “And … what did you say?”

“That I could not,” Cinder replied. “I am… I have made myself… I am suited for battle, for this battle, and for nothing else. I do not have it in me to live a peaceful life.”

“You haven’t tried,” Emerald said.

“I could not try,” Cinder replied. “I could not do it.”

“So you’ll go out there and fight them all?” Emerald demanded. “Cinder, if you go out there, you’ll die!”

“Perhaps, if the gods decree it so,” Cinder said. “But I am still half a Maiden, I possess as much magic as Amber now. I may triumph in spite of all of them.”

“But you don’t care whether you do or not, do you?” Emerald asked.

“What better place to fight than this?” Cinder asked. “What better battlefield than in the sight of a great crowd, who will bear witness to the combat and to the outcome, whatever that outcome may be?”

“Cinder…” Emerald murmured. “Please… please don’t, won’t you at least, please just…” She sobbed. “I hate you. I hate that you have made me care what happens to you. Please, Cinder, you’re all I have.”

“And yet you have it in yourself to be so much more, once out of my shadow,” Cinder said. “Go now, Emerald. I release you from my service.”

“Go?” Emerald repeated. “You… you’re sending me away?”

“Your part in this tale is done,” Cinder declared. “Go to Mistral, and the tree upon the hill. Find the treasure, live… live in such a manner as seems best to you but for my sake and at my urging, live in comfort.” She lowered her swords down at her side, and bent down to kiss Emerald on the forehead. “You have been a better companion to me than I have deserved, but I have no need of company on this road I am on.”

“But I…” Emerald said. “I could—”

“No,” Cinder said, before she could ask. “This battle is mine and mine alone. Live, Emerald. Live, and remember me.”

Emerald was silent a moment, and a moment more. “Is that… is that your last command to me?”

“It is,” Cinder said. “If you will have it so.”

It seemed, from the movement of the wig, that Emerald bowed her head. “Then I will obey.” She sniffed. “Goodbye, Cinder.” She turned to go.

“To wind and sky be free,” Cinder said, as she saw dimly Emerald walk away, retreating down the alley in the opposite direction to the carnival.

Emerald’s step quickened, Cinder could hear it as a swift staccato beat, she was running.

“Be free,” Cinder repeated. “And fare thou well.”

But Emerald was already lost to her sight.

Cinder was alone, with her swords.

Her sable arms which did the night resemble as she lay hid behind the ominous bin.

Hmm, lacks something of grandeur at the end, doesn’t it?

Still, I have my arms. Arms black as night, black as my purpose.

Thoughts black, hands apt…

She was under little illusions. Emerald had been correct, this battle would doubtless prove difficult. But then, the greatest battles, the most memorable, were frequently difficult.

And yet they must be fought regardless.

The readiness is all.

She raised one of her swords up and kissed the black glass. She barely felt it.

Yet she was armed, and well prepared.

Cinder walked out from behind the bins and strode towards the mouth of the alley.

Her destiny awaited.

Death or Glory (New)

Death or Glory

Blake’s voice crackled into Rainbow’s ear. “Cinder’s here.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened. She covered her ear with one hand. “Blake, are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” Blake said, her voice dispassionate, calm. Almost eerily calm, in the circumstances. “I’m moving to engage now.”

“W—” Rainbow bit back her instinct to tell Blake to hold off, wait for … backup, or something. But there wasn’t any backup coming, that wasn’t part of the plan they had made; the plan they had made called for Blake to fight alone, for now at least, while the others got Amber away.

Just as the plan called for Rainbow to stay up here and exercise command, in the face of all her instincts screaming at her to get down there and help Blake.

She had to have faith. She had to believe that Blake could manage this.

She did have faith. Blake could manage this.

Hopefully.

“Don’t get yourself killed out there,” Rainbow muttered.

“'Killed'?” Rarity repeated from where she stood at Rainbow’s side. “Darling, what—?”

Rainbow held up one hand to quiet her. She needed to concentrate for this. “All units: abort, abort, abort. Yang, roll in. Twilight, head to the rendezvous point. Midnight, are you okay on the gun?”

“Locked and loaded, Rainbow Dash,” came the reply from Midnight.

“Inbound now,” said Twilight.

“Rolling in,” announced Yang. “Sunset, Pyrrha, get her ready for me.”

“Got it,” Sunset said. “We’re moving now. Amber, come on, we have to go!” There was a pause. “Because—”

“Sunset, clear the comm!” snapped Rainbow Dash.

There was no response, but Rainbow couldn’t hear any more of Sunset explaining to Amber what was up either, so she took that as a sign that Sunset had put herself on mute.

“Rainbow Dash, what is—?” began Rarity.

“Not now!” Rainbow said sharply.

“Give her a minute, sugarcube,” murmured Applejack. “I think she’s kinda busy.”

Rainbow ignored them both — for now — as she scanned the street below her, sweeping down it until she found Blake — and Cinder.

Cinder had emerged — or so it seemed — from out of one of the side alleys, her glass swords in her hands, and now, she began to rush up the wide thoroughfare in Amber’s direction, shoving people aside as she went, but only shoving them. Rainbow had to admit she was surprised by that; she would have expected Cinder to just cut them down if they got in her way, and she had her blades out already after all, but she seemed to be using her shoulders rather than her swords.

And anyway, a lot of people were getting out of her way, scrambling to either side of the road or just running in the opposite direction to her; the sound of the carnival floating up to the top of the Liver Building was becoming twisted with the discordant fearful shouting of those who could see Cinder and — whether they recognised her face or not — understood that she was someone they should have nothing to do with.

The flames that were burning out of the sides of one eye — what the hell? Seriously, what the hell? — was a pretty good indicator of that. A few people — a few idiots – were filming her on their scrolls, but most people had more sense and were putting as much distance between her and them as possible.

Of course, there was one faunus whose sense could be debated who was heading straight for her.

Blake rushed towards Cinder, Gambol Shroud in sword form held on one hand, her cleaver scabbard in the other, both arms pumping up and down as she cut through the parting crowd like a gallant ship through the waves.

"Ciel, Ruby," Rainbow said, "do either of you have a shot?"

"Not yet," replied Ruby.

"Affirmative," came the response from Ciel.

The sharp, snapping sound of Ciel’s rifle echoed off the tall buildings as though she were a multitude of snipers; but the first thing that Cinder probably knew about Ciel firing on her was when the first shot slammed into her back.

Ciel was using ice dust rounds. They had agreed that beforehand as a crowd safety thing. Rainbow and Pyrrha had both seen Cinder block bullets, after all, and nobody wanted a round deflected — if she did deflect them; none of them were entirely sure what Cinder was doing to block shots — into the crowd to kill somebody. Ice dust was non-lethal, but it could still make it very hard to move around if it got you.

And so, Ciel's first shot pitched Cinder off her feet, hurling her forwards, with a patch of ice blossoming on her back, spikes of pale ice like the bone spurs on a grimm growing as though they were erupting out of her.

The next two shots hit her in the feet before she could get up, encasing Cinder's feet and ankles in rugged lumps of ice.

"Great shooting, Ciel," Rainbow cried. "Now get her, Blake!"

Cinder was there. She was right there.

Blake wasn’t sure exactly when she’d emerged into view — her eyes were sharp, and she knew what she was looking for, but there were so many people around at this carnival that she couldn’t see everything all of the time — but one moment, the coast had appeared to be clear of danger, and the next…

The next moment, Cinder was standing there, in the middle of the revelling crowd, as if she had shimmered into view, teleported like Sunset into the middle of the street.

It was extraordinary. So extraordinary that Blake didn’t believe, couldn’t comprehend it for a second; she just stood there, dumbly, staring at Cinder.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed Cinder either. Although she stood there with her glass scimitars in her hands, held down beside her, the points directed towards the ground, in spite of that, nobody seemed to realise or care or recognise that this was Cinder Fall, wanted criminal.

The carnival continued on around her, with drums beating and horns and trumpets being played somewhere in the procession and everybody dancing with gay abandon, arms waving, feet tapping.

The street was a riot of colour, whirling skirts and feathers and sequins galore, and in the midst of it all, obscured for a moment by a girl in a canary yellow dress who twirled in front of her, but standing right there when the dancer had passed, stood Cinder Fall.

Barring the swords, in her red dress with the fine gold threadwork, she actually fit in rather well; probably, that was why the blades themselves — and Cinder’s wanted status — had gone unnoticed.

She looked right at Blake and smiled.

Yellow flames erupted from the corner of one eye.

Magic. That’s what Pyrrha saw when Cinder used the stolen maiden powers.

Cinder let out a great roar, like a lion that has trespassed into the territory of a settled pride issuing challenge to the old male who rules that particular rock, to let them know that a younger, stronger, hungrier rival has come to claim the land and all its bounty for himself. Just so did Cinder roar out her anger, drawing the attention of everyone around her.

Now, people took notice, and they began to move away, scrambling back from this woman with the mysterious flames coming out of her eyes.

They didn’t move fast enough for Cinder, who began to push them away, shoving into them with her shoulders while yelling, “Move! Move! Out of my way!”

Blake drew Gambol Shroud — in sword mode — over her shoulder. She pressed her free hand to her ear. “Cinder’s here!”

“Blake, are you sure?” Rainbow responded; the earpiece made her voice a little crackly, but Blake could hear the concern there clearly enough regardless.

“Quite sure,” Blake said, and she was almost surprised by how calm she sounded — how calm she felt. Now that the initial shock of Cinder’s appearance had worn off, dispelled by Cinder’s own movements, it was … well, it was what they had prepared for, wasn’t it?

She did not feel afraid. She did not feel alarmed. This was a possibility, this was the reason she was here. This was … in the bluntest terms, this was the job, wasn’t it?

“I’m moving to engage now,” Blake added, taking her hand off her ear and pulling her scabbard-cleaver over her free shoulder.

“Don’t get yourself killed out there,” Rainbow muttered in response, and Blake appreciated Rainbow restricting herself to saying that, and only that. It must have been very hard for her.

I’ll try not to, Blake thought, but had no time to say that because she was moving now, moving towards Cinder, trying to find a way towards her through the crowds that were panicked, moving in this direction and that, milling around in front of her, filling the space between her and Cinder.

Cinder was moving in her direction, yes, but not straight towards her; her target was not Blake but Amber, after all, and if she could reach Amber while avoiding Blake she would no doubt do it.

And so Blake had to get through the crowd to intercept her just as Cinder needed to get through the crowd to reach Amber.

And Blake had to do it without quite so much violent shoving — she was supposed to be the good guy, after all.

Although Cinder could be doing a lot worse than shoving.

A part of her wondered why Cinder hadn’t started hacking through the crowd with her swords, as she no doubt could have; but it was not so great a concern that it occupied much of her attention. It didn’t change what she had to do.

What she had to do was get to Cinder.

Her semblance was a help in that regard, she left clones behind her while she slipped through gaps in the crowd as though she was teleporting, but the need to preserve her aura for the actual fight meant that she used her semblance only when she had no choice, for the rest she slipped physically through what gaps she could find, she leapt over people here and there, and as the crowd began to thin out in response to Cinder’s presence then Blake just ran, running as the ocean of carnival-goers became more of a Shallow Sea.

Blake's legs pounded on the roadway like a heart far less calm than her own, her arms pumping up and down.

Cinder pitched forward. Blake hadn't heard a shot fired, but Ciel had warned that they might not hear the shot until after they saw the round strike, with this new rifle she’d be using, and it was clear that Cinder had been shot, what with the spikes of ice that were rising up on her back, that looked a little as though they were coming out of her back.

Cinder was hit again as she lay on the ground, lumps of ice enclosing her feet and ankles before she could get up.

They would only hold her for a moment.

A moment was all Blake required to get the first strike.

Blake leapt upwards, her long, wild hair flying out behind her as she closed the distance between her and Cinder, descending upon her with sword and cleaver alike drawn back for a slashing stroke.

Cinder didn’t hear the shot that hit her in the back.

If she had heard it then it might not have mattered — she probably would have been too late to turn and block it — but she would never find out because she did not hear the shot that hit her.

At least, not until after she’d been shoved onto the ground with her face in the tarmac. Then she heard the shot.

But by that point one might say that it was a little late.

Cinder pushed herself up onto her knees and found herself shivering. Shivering and feeling a heavy weight upon her back, a chill weight.

Ice dust, of course.

Ruby - or that Atlesian girl, what’s her name… I can’t remember, but the one with the large rifle - wouldn’t want to blow the head off some innocent bystander, would she? No, that would never do.

So they’re using ice dust, just to make sure nobody gets hurt.

Very noble, but if they think that will stop me—

Two more shots hit her on her glass slippers, less notable for the damage they did to her aura than to the way that they caused mounds of ice to erupt outwards from the point of impact, spreading out to engulf her feet and ankles, sticking them to the road.

Cinder pursed her lips together.

I’m coming very close to feeling insulted.

She consoled herself with the thought that they didn’t expect for it to hold her indefinitely, just long enough for the rapidly approaching Blake Belladonna to get a few hits in before Cinder could respond.

Possibly it had been a mistake to loudly roar out her presence as she had, and so alert the enemy to her presence. But, well, she had wanted to alert her enemies to her presence.

What was the point of going out to find a desperate battle against your destined opponents in the middle of a crowded public place with power and fortune’s favour on the line if you weren’t allowed to make a dramatic entrance?

And besides, Cinder was less impressed with Blake than the Atlesians seemed to be.

Blake descended on her like a thunderbolt — but Cinder was the one with power over the lightning.

She had the Maiden’s magic ready at her command; she had prepared it for the way it looked upon her eyes, for the way the fire would intimidate the crowds and drive them from her path — and in case she needed to use the magic to remove any brave obstacles from out of her way.

As Blake fell on her, Cinder clasped her hands together above her heart, looking almost as though she were in prayer, hiding the flames in the palms of her hands. Then, just before Blake struck home, Cinder swept both her arms out in front of her, unleashing a wave of magical flame that caught Blake in mid-air.

Blake used a clone to escape, but no matter, for wherever she was, she did not strike Cinder.

Cinder used her own semblance to melt the ice on her back, even as she shattered the ice that sought to bind her to the road as she rose to her feet with a growl.

The crowd had thinned enough for her to make out Amber, surrounded by Sunset and Pyrrha. They looked small to her — from a distance, not from her failing eyesight; that seemed to mainly affect reading and screens — like her…

Like her glass menagerie that Phoebe had destroyed.

Cinder shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, the memory. She had killed Phoebe, would that she had killed those memories along with her and put them in the grave — or on the pyre.

Amber was there. Amber was before her, and Sunset and Pyrrha too. Sunset and Pyrrha and the others, who seemed to be trying to hustle Amber off the stage. Did they have some escape planned for her?

Cinder began to run. The moonlight glinted off her obsidian blades as she ran for Amber.

This was the hour of fate. This was the death or glory moment, as in the old tales when the rebels sighted the Emperor’s banner across the field and knew that now was the moment to risk everything on a single charge for death or glory.

For death or glory!

I am resolved this night to conquer all or perish.

She would reach them. She would reach them. She would reach Amber and her protectors, and she would not let Blake or Ruby or Tempest Shadow stand in her way.

She was hit again, again without hearing the shot until it was too late, and again, the ice encased her foot and stuck her to the road.

Cinder bit back a curse as she freed herself, using a combination of semblance and sheer brute force to break and melt the ice in equal measure.

No sooner had she done so than her other foot was frozen.

A third shot hit her on the thigh; whatever kind of gun they were using was sufficiently small that it didn’t do much to her aura, but as more ice spread out across her upper leg, making Cinder shiver from the cold, it was both intensely irritating and a delay that she could hardly afford.

Especially with Blake once more closing the distance with her. Even after what Cinder had done the last time, still Blake threw herself on Cinder with reckless abandon.

Cinder let her come on, making for the moment no effort to free herself from the ice that bound her to the road — she would simply have been shot and stuck again — waiting until she was close enough to reach out with a thrust of the sword in her right hand.

Another clone popped like a balloon, dissipating into shadow and smoke even as the real Blake appeared behind Cinder.

Cinder shattered the ice that trapped her as she turned as swift as the mood of a wicked stepsister, rounding on Blake to parry her first stroke, and her second, then countering with a slash that dissolved another clone of Blake.

Blake was at her side, hair flying out behind her as she charged with a furious flurry of blows.

Cinder withstood them all, standing like a mountain before the howling wind, parrying sword and cleaver both, the metal ringing off the glass as black swords clashed, but every parry, every stroke, every time that she struck Blake only for it to turn into a clone as the real Blake attacked from another direction, every moment was a moment that she could ill afford.

Cinder turned Blake's stroke aside with one sword, then slashed at her in turn with another, dispelling yet another clone — did she never feel ashamed of the way she overused these wretched things? — and giving Cinder time and breathing room to call upon her magic.

She conjured up a wind, a great cyclone blowing all around, circling her while she stood safe in the eye of the storm. The wind was wall and moat to her, Blake could not break through it, and the rounds of the sniper, whoever they might be, would be whipped away — so it was a good thing they were only using ice dust.

While she was within the winds that lashed at her face, grabbed at her hair and disturbed its careful arrangement, she was safe.

She was also immobilised and half blind, and while she stood in the wind, Amber was being ushered stage left, exeunt Amber, Sunset, Pyrrha, and the rest.

But then, she didn't intend to stay here forever.

Cinder's glass scimitars dissolved in her hands, reforming into a single long, thin spear, too long and unwieldy to use against Blake, but hopefully long enough for her purposes.

Cinder reversed the blade and drove it downwards into the road beneath her feet, piercing the tarmac as she pierced the breast of Phoebe—

Cinder grunted with irritation at the intrusion onto her thoughts. She drove the spear down into the road, burying more and more of the glass beneath the tarmac.

This would either work, or she would hit a power line and cause a blackout.

She felt, just about, the tip of her spear touch something, something hard, possibly metallic.

Cinder smiled as she stabbed down deeper, piercing the metal with the tip of her obsidian spear.

She let the winds die down around her as the tarmac in front of her was torn apart by the onrushing water from out of the damaged pipe, water that rushed upwards like a geyser in the Amity Colosseum, cracking the road surface round about and leaping up into the air between Cinder and the sniper, completely concealing her from whichever sniper with the quiet gun had been making a nuisance of herself hitherto.

Cinder noticed that small patches of water were temporarily freezing and guessed that the sniper was trying to freeze the waterspout solid as a preface to shattering it, but the gush of water was too great, it was always renewing itself, whatever they managed to freeze was swept away again in no time at all.

And so, as the drops of water fell from the gushing geyser to pitter patter down upon Cinder’s face — would that she had been able to feel the damp upon her skin — Cinder turned and ran for Amber.

She was not too late.

She would not be too late.

“I have lost her,” Ciel said, her voice clipped with disappointment.

Rainbow cursed under her breath. “The water spout?”

“Affirmative,” Ciel replied. “I no longer have a visual on the target.”

Rainbow reflected that one of the disadvantages of sticking one of their snipers on top of one of the tallest buildings in Vale was that it was very difficult for her to redeploy if, well, if something like that happened.

She thought about flying over there to carry Ciel back here — the Wings of Harmony were rated to take that much weight, just about — but she needed to be ready to escort Yang and Amber to the rendezvous with Twilight.

“Ruby, Ciel just lost sight of Cinder; please tell me that you have a shot.”

“I can see her,” Ruby said. “But ice dust didn’t seem to do much to her when Ciel was shooting.”

“Copy that,” Rainbow replied. Unfortunately, she was right about that, but on the other hand, when Cinder had created that tornado all around her — so that was Maiden magic, huh? — she had kind of proven them right in deciding to use the ice dust rounds in the first place. As of right now, some poor guy who had just come out to have a fun night at the carnival had half his body encased in ice like he was a cartoon character. If Ciel had been firing standard rounds, then he’d be dead right now.

“But remember,” Rainbow said, “we don’t need to take Cinder out; we just need to delay her long enough for Amber to get away, and the ice dust did slow her down.”

“But even once Amber does get away, we still need to deal with Cinder afterwards,” Ruby pointed out.

“Once Amber’s gone, she’ll retreat,” Sunset interjected over the line. “What’s the point in her staying to fight it out?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby admitted, “but what if she doesn’t retreat?”

“Then this will end tonight,” Rainbow declared, “but until then, keep going with the ice dust rounds; anything else risks civilian casualties.” She paused. “If you really think that it’s having no effect, then you can descend to street level and rejoin the rest of Team Sapphire.”

She thought that she heard Sunset suck a breath inwards when she heard that, but the other team leader didn’t challenge her authority on the matter.

You need to take the leash off, Sunset, or she’s going to chew through it the same as Penny.

I mean, I get it, don’t get me wrong, but what you need to get is that she hates it. Not everyone can stand to be treated the way I treat my friends.

“Yes!” Ruby said. “Copy that.”

“That’s only if you think that sniper fire is having no effect,” Rainbow warned. “Blake could use some cover out there.”

“Right,” Ruby said. “Roger. Affir—”

“Yeah, I get it, don’t worry,” Rainbow told her. “Yang, where are you?”

“I’m on my way,” Yang said. “Not much longer.”

“Good,” Rainbow said. “Sunset, how’s it looking down there?”

“It looks like Cinder’s coming right at us, but as long as Yang gets here soon, then Amber will be fine,” Sunset said, although her voice trembled a little. “But I don’t know about you, but I think that Cinder has found the weakness in Blake’s semblance.”

Rainbow frowned. “Blake’s semblance doesn’t have a weakness.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Sunset said. “I think we were wrong.”

In every epic, in every great poem of heroes and battle, there was the aristeia, the moment of the hero's greatest process and glory when they transcended all other warriors upon the battlefield.

Cinder would not have said that this was her moment of transcendental prowess — although hopefully, that would come very, very soon, considering how close at hand were her real enemies — but she was put in mind of it as she made her charge down the boulevard because the aristeia most frequently took the form of a laundry list of enemies cut down, one after the other, in an unstoppable harvest home of death.

Aura made it nigh impossible to match the conventions of epic poetry amongst skilled opponents, but as Cinder cut down yet another of Blake's clones as she surged onward, ever onward towards Amber, it occurred to her that this was the closest to the traditional aristeia that she was likely to get in her life.

And then blazing Cinder, full of furor, smote a clone of Blake Belladonna on the breast. Yet another clone swung her black sword towards her, but swift-footed Cinder cut her down all the same. Then it was the turn of Blake's clone again, because this woman has no other ideas.

No. No, it wasn't really working, was it?

Blake's semblance was a blessing on her. It was no wonder, much as Cinder might sneer internally, why she made such use of it.

It had a weakness, though; not a weakness to Blake herself, true, but a weakness nonetheless: it could only protect Blake.

If Cinder had been trying to strike Blake down and send her soul fleeing in anger to the shades, then Blake's semblance would have been unparalleled; even with her magic, Cinder could hardly have hit her without some great good fortune or Blake's aura running out.

But Cinder didn't want to kill Blake Belladonna; Cinder, at this point, could not care less: let her go to Atlas, let her freeze off her feline ears, let her waste her life trying to fix the proud northmen as she had tried and failed to fix Adam Taurus. Cinder cared not and cared nothing for her, one way or the other.

Her business was with Amber, with Sunset, and with Pyrrha, and she would allow nothing to stand in her way.

And standing in the way was not something that Blake's semblance was very good at.

Every time Blake burned a clone to spare herself, every time she left a substitute in her place to take the blow that was meant for her, every time she vanished and left shadow and smoke behind, she only allowed Cinder to move forward.

Clones could not hinder her, no more than could the air itself.

Which was not to say that Blake didn't try; she left earth clones behind, stone statues of herself planted athwart Cinder's path, but Cinder hacked them into shards and fragments with a single swing of her obsidian blades. She left fire clones that exploded, engulfing Cinder in the flames — but Cinder was fire in ways that Blake and her tricks with dust could never dream of, and she passed through the flames taking no hurt from them, nor even damage to her aura.

And Blake used ice, just as their other sniper was doing now, to try and trap her, or slow her at least.

But Cinder would not be stopped. She would not be stayed. At this time, in this moment, this once, she would keep moving forward, physically at least, and none would withstand her progress. Ice dissolved within the heat of her flames or shattered before her strength.

At one point, they must have thought they had her, when Cinder threw herself recklessly forward against what turned out to be an ice clone. Cinder had thought to physically bull the false Blake aside, but the clone dissolved into ice, which erupted in all directions, enclosing her entire body.

Their second sniper started shooting, each round adding more ice to that which encrusted her like barnacles.

Blake did likewise, her sword transforming into its pistol form as she, too, piled ice upon ice as it seemed to imprison Cinder within an iceberg large enough to sink ships.

But tonight, there was no iceberg large enough in all of Remnant to sink her ambitions, not while the magic of half a Maiden remained to her. The ice began to glow as Cinder conjured the firestorm from her hands, magic and her semblance working together as her icy prison began to glow from within like a dirty lantern. Blake and the sniper piled ice on ice, but it was not enough to stop the heat that roared from Cinder.

The flames that would set her free, just as they always had.

Fire had been her servant then, at the beginning of her journey, and so it was again, devouring the ice, melting so much within that the outer shell shattered before the wind that Cinder conjured, the wind that picked up Blake and tossed her aside even as she was showered with icy fragments.

Cinder paid her no more mind as she ran on, flew on; flames leapt from the palms of her hands and beneath the soles of her glass slippers and sent her flying forward as if on rockets, gliding along the surface of the road.

Tempest tried to stop her, literally placing herself athwart Cinder’s path, but as much as Cinder might have relished the chance to kill Tempest in different circumstances, that would come later, if it came at all. Right now, she had no time for her.

And so she simply did not stop, flying right into Tempest, enduring the blow of Tempest’s staff, enduring the damage to her aura as a small price to pay as she bore Tempest backwards before her inexorable assault, grappling with Salem’s servant — Cinder, it seemed, had been stripped of that title — and throwing her away with a burst of fire to the gut for good measure.

It may be that we will meet again, but for now, you interest me as little as a gnat.

Blake, also — she was still going? Perhaps Cinder could see why the Atlesians so admired her and why Adam had been so drawn to her — made another attempt to hinder Cinder, casting her hook on its silk ribbon like a fisherman casting his line, trying to catch Cinder like a fat river trout.

But Cinder was moving too quickly; she had left Blake behind: her hook fell short and fruitlessly struck the tarmac of the road.

Amber was growing larger and larger in Cinder’s eyes, as Sunset and Pyrrha and the rest made ready to defend her.

She was almost there.

It was almost over.

Amber was terrified — and not a little incensed.

The terror was obvious, and it was the main part of her mind and heart as she watched Cinder fly towards her with Amber’s own magic that she had stolen from her, intent on taking the rest — and Amber’s life.

Honestly, when the word had first come from Blake that she had spotted Cinder, when Rainbow Dash had given the abort signal, Amber had not been that concerned. In fact, she thought that it had probably baffled Sunset and Pyrrha and the others how little concern she had shown for the fact, even as they — and Jaune and Penny — had begun to hustle her away to meet with Yang.

She thought that Dove, whose hands had been shaking and who had clearly been missing the absence of his sword, had been more worried than she was.

She had played it off as being because of them, flattering Sunset — Sunset was a dear, but she was also a proud dear, who liked to be admired and respected by others — by suggesting that she felt safe in her presence.

It wasn’t even a lie, not really; she did feel safe with Sunset and Pyrrha, and Jaune and Penny too, and with Ruby and Ciel watching over her.

But it wasn’t the only — perhaps not even the greatest — reason why she had felt little fear, even hearing that Cinder had come for her.

She had felt unconcerned because she had made an agreement with Bon Bon, with Tempest Shadow, with Salem herself. She had promised them the Crown of Choice, and in return, she would be safe, she would be protected, Cinder would not be permitted to come near her.

It was obvious that Cinder did not feel bound by this in any way, shape, or form.

It was also obvious, and far more shocking to Amber, that there seemed to be no way of restraining her.

And so now, with Yang not yet in sight, if she was coming at all, Amber watching Cinder fly through the air towards her, passing between crowds of people who were either trying to get as far away as they could or else treating this whole thing as though it were as entertaining as the great tournament, holding up their scrolls to film or cheering and shouting as though this wasn’t life or death being played out before their eyes.

Amber watched Cinder fly towards her, the woman who had stolen her magic, the one who had almost killed her, the one who had plunged some grimm monstrosity into her body, scarred her beautiful face, Amber watched her come to finish what she had started.

She had bested Amber when Amber was a Maiden and Cinder was nothing; now, Cinder was half a Maiden, the same as Amber was, so what chance did Amber have in the rematch that Cinder was so eagerly pursuing?

She had gotten past Blake, she had gotten past Ciel; Ruby had descended from her lofty perch, shooting on her way down to slow her descent before racing to the side of her teammates in a burst of rose petals, and now, she stood with Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny as Cinder flew towards them.

Now … now Amber was starting to worry.

Amber was starting to do more than worry.

Cinder looked even more terrifying than she seemed in Amber’s nightmares. When Amber dreamt of her face, when it loomed in her imagination, when it appeared reflected in the mirror, it didn’t have the flames burning out of her eyes, the flames of the stolen magic, the flames of the power that made her unstoppable.

She had been terrible already, and now … now, she seemed irresistible.

What a fool she had been, to think that this situation might work to her advantage, to think that she might be able to somehow bring about Cinder’s death and the lifting of her greatest fear.

She had been a foolish little girl who played with fire, and now, she would burn for it.

Such were the fears that thudded through Amber’s heart as she took a stumbling step backwards, into Dove’s arms.

Her heart was thudding too, thumping hard in her chest as though she had run without aura up many flights of stairs, all the way to the top of Ozpin’s enormous tower.

“It will be alright, Amber,” Dove promised, although he would have sounded a lot more reassuring if his voice hadn’t stopped shaking. “I swear, I’ll protect you. I won’t let her hurt you again.”

No, Dove, you can’t protect me. Not from her.

And as much to the point, he shouldn’t have had to, shouldn’t have had to try, shouldn’t have had to even consider it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

They were supposed to take care of her! For once, Amber’s anger was not directed at Ozpin but at his enemies. They had promised! They had told her that so long as she did what they wanted, gave them what they wanted, then they would guarantee her safety! Well, her safety didn’t feel very guaranteed at the moment!

Tempest had made a half-hearted effort to get in Cinder’s way and been swatted aside for it; it was pathetic! Was Cinder the only one who was actually worth fearing?

No, no, that wasn’t true; Salem was worth fearing, if only for the fact that she would never die and would keep sending more and more killers after Amber until she got her crown, but even so, she didn’t seem nearly as frightening as Cinder did at this particular moment.

This was not at all what Amber had been led to believe would happen.

It was enough to make her wonder if she had made a mistake.

Sunset had one hand out, firing green bolts of her own magic from her fingertips. They all flew straight and true — at least, they did for most of the way, but as they approached Cinder, she held out her hands in front of her, and Sunset’s magic veered away, shooting off to hit the buildings on either side of the street.

Sunset bared her teeth and growled wordlessly.

“I do hope nobody got hurt by that,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Don’t worry; I’m controlling my power level for that reason,” Sunset replied.

“But how’s she deflecting your shots?” asked Ruby.

“I think she’s using convection currents; the hot air is bending the light trajectory,” Sunset explained. “She’ll do the same to Penny’s lasers.”

“Then it will come to swords then,” Pyrrha declared as she stepped in front of Amber. “Whether Yang arrives in time or not, it seems a battle is inevitable.”

“You … you’re going to fight her?” Amber demanded. “No!”

The word leapt from her mouth because this hadn’t been what she had wanted or intended, not at all. She hadn’t just made her deal with Salem for her own sake, no, but for them too, so that they wouldn’t have to fight a battle like this! Now that the battle had come upon them … this had been what she wanted to avoid; this had been everything that she wanted to avoid.

“I swore to protect you,” Pyrrha said. “Do you not recall?”

Yes, Amber recalled; she recalled only too well, that was the problem. “But I didn’t … I don’t…”

She could not let this happen. She could not let them fight this battle, fight this monster, she could not … she didn’t want to see them die, so brave and kind and … they didn’t deserve this; it wasn’t right!

I only wanted to save them.

But I can’t even save myself.

Perhaps … perhaps realising that she couldn’t save herself … perhaps it was the only way to save them.

She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live with Dove. But she didn’t want to watch Pyrrha die either, or Sunset, or any of them. Sunset had saved her life, and had been so solicitous of her well-being and desires, and Pyrrha was in love with Jaune, and they had both brought Dove back to her. They had defended her from Ozpin. They had all, all been so very good to her, and now…

Amber clasped her hands together over heart.

She ought to take a step forward. She ought to step in front of Pyrrha.

She ought to…

She ought to…

But her leg felt so heavy.

Let me be brave.

Please, let me be brave.

Amber took one step forward. Could she take another? Would her legs permit? Could she step forward so that it was she who stood in front of Pyrrha and not the other way around?

“I’ve got an idea,” said Sunset.

It was not a very good idea. It wasn’t an idea that Sunset would have considered in many other circumstances, but, well … they were going to have to fight Cinder anyway; at least this way, they could go all out without having to worry about accidentally killing anyone with a stray shot.

“Please,” Pyrrha murmured. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”

Sunset licked her lips, because this wasn’t the best plan she’d ever come up with, and it would ask a lot of Pyrrha in particular.

“Penny,” she said. “Stay with Amber and Dove until Yang gets here. I … am going to throw up an inverted shield that will trap Cinder inside of it with the four of us.”

“Why not just trap Cinder in the shield?” asked Ruby.

“Because she might get out,” Sunset said. “She’ll probably get out, with the power we’ve seen from her, but with—”

“With us fighting her, she won’t be able to, and Amber can get away!” Ruby cried, catching on. “That’s—”

“Not ideal,” Sunset said. “But the shield won’t just stop Cinder from leaving; it will mean that we can shoot as much as we like and use as much dust as we want and basically blow up the road underneath our feet if we want to, and we won’t hurt anyone who hasn’t gotten away yet. Run, all of you!” she yelled at the idiots who still hadn’t gotten away yet. “This isn’t a movie set! This is real; it’s dangerous! Put your scrolls away!”

Nobody took a blind bit of notice. They just turned their scrolls on her in order to film her outburst.

Sunset rolled her eyes. Of course, Cinder would be free to use all of her power as well once inside the shield, but then, there was nothing stopping her at the moment — except for the fact that she had been somewhat careful so far; as far as Sunset could tell, the worst she’d done to any noncombatants was push them out of her way.

Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?

Sunset dismissed the irrelevant question and turned her gaze on Pyrrha. “But, once the shield is up, it’s going to be most of what I can do to keep it up, especially if it has bullets and fireballs slamming into it. I won’t be able to help much, which means that you’ll have to do a lot of the heavy lifting against Cinder herself. Are you…? Just tell me if it’s not possible, and we’ll—”

“It is possible,” Pyrrha declared, softly enough but in a declaratory tone regardless.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure?”

“I know not the final outcome,” Pyrrha said, “but if I could not, with Jaune and Ruby’s help and whatever small assistance you are yet able to render, delay her long enough for Yang to reach us and be off again, I would be shamed indeed before you all … and before the eyes of Vale which are turned upon us no less than in the colosseum.”

“I don’t…” Amber murmured. “I don’t want you to—”

“That is kind of you, Amber, but in this, I fear that your desires are of little consequence,” Pyrrha murmured. “We promised to protect you.”

“And anyway, this is kind of what huntresses do regardless,” Ruby added.

“I want to help you too!” Penny cried. “Why can’t Dove stay with Amber?”

“Because Dove can’t fight as well as you can,” Sunset said, ignoring the way that Dove kind of glared at her, squinting his eyes. “He isn’t even armed.”

“But that won’t matter since Cinder will be in there with you,” Penny pointed out.

Sunset considered that for a fraction of a second. “Welcome aboard, Penny,” she said. “Glad to have you with us. Amber, Dove, back off.”

“But—” Amber began.

“Trust us, Amber,” Ruby said. “We’ve got this.”

Amber opened her mouth, but no more words came out. She bit her lip and allowed Dove to lead her backwards, away from them.

The five of them stood in a rough line: Team SAPR and Penny.

Sunset was glad that Penny was with them; with Sunset half out of it, they could use the help.

“Is everyone ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Pyrrha declared, holding Akoúo̱ before her, Miló in spear form drawn back ready to strike.

“Ready,” Ruby said, slamming a magazine of lighting dust rounds into Crescent Rose.

Jaune took a deep breath. “Ready,” he said. “After all, it’s five … four and a … three and two bits against one.”

Penny began. “Who is the—?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Jaune,” Pyrrha and Sunset said almost together, with Pyrrha a little ahead.

“Anyway, are you ready, Penny?”

The blades of Floating Array emerged out of Penny’s back to form a metal halo around her head. “I’m combat ready,” she declared.

“Okay then,” Sunset said. She cricked her neck for a second. “Let’s do this.”

She didn’t do anything at first, not yet; she waited just a little longer, for Cinder to get closer, closer, for her to get close enough that Sunset wouldn’t need an absurdly large shield to enclose her and the five of them within it.

Cinder flew towards them, flitting a little this way and a little that, seeming to try and angle herself so that she would pass between them and be on Amber before they could respond.

Unfortunately, Cinder…

As Cinder drew close, Sunset raised her left hand skywards, as if she meant to grasp the moon and lift it out of its sphere, leaving only the shattered fragments to hang suspended in the night sky.

Her elevated hand glowed with magic as she conjured up a shield, a dome of energy that encompassed Team SAPR, Penny, and Cinder Fall, enclosing them off from the rest of the world beyond.

Cinder flew into Sunset’s barrier; she was moving too swiftly to stop before she struck it.

She could not say that it was like running into any sort of wall, because unlike most walls, this magical barrier didn’t shatter upon impact with her.

It did, on the other hand, ache a little bit. She had thrown up her hands and forearms at the last moment, but they still ached. She could feel the throbbing pulsing through her aura.

Cinder’s slippers chinked gently upon the ground as she stepped backwards.

Amber stood before her, on the wrong side of the shield. Out of her reach.

For now.

Cinder drew back her hand, flames leaping to her palm.

Crescent Rose roared. Cinder turned, spinning on the toe of one glass slipper, holding up her hand to deflect the shot.

“I take it that wasn’t an ice dust round,” Cinder drawled.

“No,” Ruby said, in a voice as hard as the barrier that Cinder had just slammed into. “It wasn’t.”

Cinder smirked, one corner of her lip turning upwards. “So, you trapped me in here with you not only to protect Amber from me, but to protect the people out there from your own strength?”

“Well, since we are all here, battle does seem the logical next step,” Pyrrha said softly. “Unless you would care to surrender?”

Cinder laughed. “Careful, Pyrrha,” she said. “That is almost an insult.”

She turned her gaze and her attention upon Sunset, standing with her hand still raised, her hand still wreathed in her own unique magic. How much more than that could she do? Was she now rendered immobile, useless by the need to keep the shield up?

Cinder took a step towards her. Pyrrha moved swiftly to bar her way.

So, she is defenceless, or at least, they fear she is.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Sunset,” Cinder said. “I really, truly don’t.”

“Then don’t,” Sunset replied. “We don’t have to fight, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Cinder said.

“You know what I meant,” Sunset said.

“Yes,” Cinder acknowledged. “I know what you meant.”

She glanced at Amber, hiding outside of the shield, cowering, letting Sunset and the others do the fighting for her.

Perhaps I should be glad that I put so much fear in her.

Although the means by which I did it were hardly worthy of me.

I could tell them what you’ve done, Amber. I could tell them right now that you’ve betrayed them, that Tempest Shadow put herself in my path because she is an agent of Salem and you have sold them out to Salem to save your own life.

But I won’t. I won’t because they wouldn’t believe me anyway, and because…

Because I want this. I want this battle. I want them to fight me, though it costs me you and your power, though it costs me my life, though it costs me everything, I want this.

If this is the final battle, then I am content with that.

People were watching her. She had wondered how to achieve that, how to get the audience that she desired, and now, she had it. Here she was, facing Pyrrha and all her foes, with a great crowd watching, with them filming her.

It was not quite as she had imagined, it was not a single combat that would allow her to kill Pyrrha — or try to — before an enraged Sunset took her life in turn, it was not everything that she had planned for, and quite frankly, she would have rather that the rambunctious Atlas girl not been here for this, but, with that said, it was not at all displeasing to her humour.

Even if Amber were to escape, as it seemed likely that she would — no doubt, someone was coming to sweep her off at this very moment — then, well … Cinder had come to the point where she had little use of becoming the Fall Maiden.

The battle had come upon her, and she had power enough to see it through, or fall yielding glory to her foes.

I would wish that Sunset were in a position to fight and take her share of the glory, but never mind. I’m sure her part will be recognised nonetheless.

Cinder took a deep breath, taking a step backwards as she called upon her magic, letting the flames spout from her eyes.

“I hope you don’t expect me to hold back this time, Pyrrha,” she said, looking towards Mistral’s Evenstar. “After all, what was honourable restraint in a single combat would become mere folly now that you’ve got me outnumbered…” She smiled. “Three and a bit to one.”

“Four to one, at least,” Pyrrha declared. “And, as you know, I found your prior restraint … somewhat insulting. Use whatever power you may, as shall we.”

Cinder bowed her head in acknowledgement. She looked around, at the enemies who surrounded her, all poised to strike. It was really very good of them to wait upon her thus, very noble, very heroic.

Very decent.

She cast one last glance at Amber, the Fall Maiden beyond her reach. Cinder favoured her with a smile.

Let that be your last memory of me, the gleeful smile. Let them whisk you off to safety before you see me cut down.

Cinder opened her eyes, holding her obsidian blades which did the night resemble out on either side of her.

Now, gods, stand up for knaves.

“I think I’m ready for my close up now,” she said.

And yet, for a moment longer, no one moved. All was frozen into stillness, as though Sunset’s barrier was not just enclosing them but holding them as if in … as in amber.

They were frozen in a tableaux, perpetually on the verge of battle but not yet engaged.

They stared at one another, all their eyes narrowing as each waited for another — someone, anyone — to make the first move.

Cinder was the first to move, charging towards Pyrrha like a tiger, keeping her body low, her black blades held out on either side of her, swept back until she drove them both forwards in a thrust at her opponent.

Pyrrha took the blow upon her shield, bending her knees and getting lower to the ground. The black blades struck the gilded shield, and as they did so, both of Midnight’s blades shattered into shards of glass as though they had no aura of Cinder’s to strengthen them at all.

Cinder grinned savagely as she used her semblance to hurl the shards of glass at Pyrrha; they moved like fish, like a pod of savage orcas that roamed the sea, ducking and weaving beneath and around Pyrrha’s shield to nip and bite and tear at her aura as they flew around her feet and ankles.

Pyrrha winced, recoiling away from the sudden assault.

Cinder leapt up, the smile fixed upon her face as she descended upon Pyrrha. Fire leapt in her right hand as she drew it back to slam it into Pyrrha’s—

Pyrrha’s face was fixed into a grimace as she rose up and slammed her shield into Cinder’s gut. Cinder let out an ‘oof,’ breath leaving her, a stream of flame leapt from her hand, but Pyrrha had thrown her off, and it only caught her ponytail and her back at the edge instead of consuming her face and body as Cinder had intended.

Cinder, meanwhile, found herself lifted upwards as Pyrrha used her shield to throw Cinder over her back and dump her on her own — Cinder’s — back upon the tarmac.

The blade of Crescent Rose descended through the air towards her, point down.

Cinder caught the blade between the palms of her hands, then let the upwards force as Ruby tried to pull her weapon back yank Cinder up and onto her feet.

Pyrrha spun around, slashing at Cinder with her spear; Cinder turned the stroke aside with the flat of her hand — it hurt a little bit more than it would have using a blade — which of course meant that Ruby was free to pull her weapon back, spinning it in front of her so that it looked like nothing so much as a spinning red disc.

Cinder sprang at her, flames leaping from the soles of her slippers to hurl her through the air faster than Pyrrha could catch up with her, and as she flew, she conjured up a flaming scimitar by magic into her right hand.

Ruby darted away from her, flying around the edge of the shield, a cloud of rose petals surrounding her, and as she flew back, her scythe collapsed into a stubby carbine that she used to fire at Cinder.

The barrel of her gun flared again and again, the loud bangs echoing off the shield.

Cinder held up her free hand, compressing the air in front of her to form a barrier against the rounds, but she wasn’t able to control fire and air at the same time with her magic, and so, she had to stop flying after Ruby and settle on the ground. The flaming sword stuttered and died in her hand.

Pyrrha threw her shield at Cinder’s head. Cinder grabbed it with one hand, feeling the impact on her aura — less than if it had hit her in the head, obviously — but didn’t let on.

You couldn’t mind that it hurt, especially not with people watching.

Ruby kept shooting at her as Pyrrha charged, spear whirling in her hands, and as Ruby kept shooting so, Cinder had to keep some of her energies — and her magic — focussed on blocking the shots.

Cinder threw Pyrrha’s shield back at her. Pyrrha caught it on her arm, twirling on her toe, her sash wrapping around her waist as she slung her shield across her back and resumed her rush at Cinder, and all with such perfect grace that it was frankly infuriating.

Pyrrha’s spear whirled in her hands as she lashed out at Cinder’s face. Cinder caught the spear just as she had caught the shield, but Pyrrha surprised Cinder by letting go of her weapon and punching Cinder square on the nose. Cinder’s head snapped back, and she recoiled a step, feeling rather than seeing Pyrrha’s follow up as she drove her fist straight into Cinder’s gut.

Fire leapt from Cinder’s hands. Yes, it meant that she had to expose herself to Ruby’s shots, and that was less than ideal, but Cinder forced herself to try and not mind that it hurt as Ruby’s bullets slammed into her side, into her thigh, into her leg. She was using lightning rounds, not ice, and the shocks of the electricity travelled up and down her body, lasting longer than the impacts of the bullets into her aura.

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

I can withstand this. I have endured worse than this.

Down in the lower slopes, I have seen drunkards do worse than this in sport.

More importantly was the fact that the flames struck Pyrrha in the chest, bearing her backwards with a wince of pain, knocking her down onto her side as she tried to use her shield to keep the flames at bay.

Jaune rushed to her, his own shield blazing with a white-gold light — his semblance at work — as he planted himself in between Pyrrha and the flames, letting them lick at his shield and lap around it to bite at him.

Cinder let him do the romantic thing as, with her other hand, she unleashed another jet of fire in Ruby’s direction, forcing the girl in the red hood to leap away, leaving a cloud of rose petals in her wake.

The flames caught them and consumed them, turning them to cinders.

The Atlesian girl attacked, flinging a trio of her swords out to cut Cinder’s legs out from under her. Cinder leapt up, the blades passing underneath her, and changed the target of her flames from Ruby to the Atlesian.

There was a cloud of rose petals as Ruby slammed into the Atlas — Penny! Her name was Penny. Rose petals, rosepetal, RSPT, P for Penny, her name was Penny. Penny … something — into Penny’s side and pushed her out of the way with such force that Ruby was carried out of the way too, the flames only passing over her flying cloak for a second.

Cinder flew towards them both; if she could catch them both before they could recover—

Soteria flew through the air towards her. Sunset might not be able to contribute much, but she could do that, it seemed; her free hand was glowing as she used telekinesis to direct the sword. Cinder dodged, diving and turning in the air to let the sword pass over her, but the time she spent doing that meant that Pyrrha and Ruby had both recovered themselves enough to start shooting at her.

Cinder landed, summoning the glass shards of Midnight back into her hands, forming them into a spear which she twirled in her hands, deflecting the shots from both Pyrrha and Ruby, deflecting Soteria as Sunset tried to hit her in the back, parrying all of Penny’s swords as she swung them all towards Cinder in a wave meant to sweep her away.

The floating swords pressed against Cinder’s spear, Penny exerting surprising strength considering that she was only puppeteering her blades with those wires.

“Golden Rose Cannonball with cover!” Sunset snapped. “Penny, keep her busy!”

How are you supposed to keep track of what those ridiculous names mean? Cinder thought. She knew that it presaged some sort of pre-planned attack, but it wasn’t one of the ones that she had heard before, and she couldn’t work out what it might mean.

Nor was Penny giving her much of a chance to see or work it out, as she pulled back her swords for a second only to hurl them at Cinder, the wires stretching out as her swords surrounded Cinder, only to descend on her with thrusts and slashes that kept Cinder turning this way and that to fend her off, and Sunset wasn’t helping with the way that she added Soteria to the mix, either.

And then the blades retreated.

And then Cinder found out what the Golden Rose Cannonball was as Pyrrha, who had been standing protectively in front of Jaune and Ruby, got out of the way to reveal Ruby balanced on Jaune’s shield, the light of his semblance travelling up her legs.

Ruby flew towards Cinder like the very cannonball itself, speeding through the air, moving so fast that Cinder had no time to react, no time to dodge, no time to do anything except get the wind knocked out of her as Ruby, not bothering with her weapon, bodily slammed into Cinder and bore her backwards, slamming her into Sunset’s barrier.

Cinder roared in anger as flames erupted from both her hands, engulfing Ruby, surrounding her in fire as she was blasted backwards. Jaune caught her, but the force hurling her away was so strong that he could only cushion her from the impact a little as he was knocked onto his backside.

Pyrrha charged in, closing the distance between them while Cinder was focussed on Ruby, her weapon now in its sword form, her shield in her hand. She slammed her shield into Cinder’s gut and then followed up with a slashing stroke down upon Cinder’s head. Cinder dodged, swaying nimble aside, but not so swiftly that the stroke didn’t strike her in the shoulder. Cinder lashed out at Pyrrha’s flank with her glass spear, but Pyrrha parried the blow with her sword, countering with an upwards slash that Cinder just about managed to dodge.

Cinder used Sunset’s shield as a wall, blasting off of it and repaying Ruby’s complement to Pyrrha, slamming into her and carrying her back all the way across the battlefield to bear her into the shield on the far side.

Pyrrha didn’t strike the wall so roughly as Cinder had; rather, she took the impact on her feet, her legs bending until she was almost crouching upon the shield, and as she crouched, she grabbed Cinder by the arm, kicked off the shield, rolled in the air, and bodily threw Cinder around and over her and slammed her into the ground.

Not this again! Cinder thought as Pyrrha held onto her, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other trying to pin her hands.

And lest Cinder thought that she could repeat the trick from their duel, Pyrrha was hauling her upright.

Cinder squirmed and writhed in Pyrrha’s grip, but Pyrrha held firm.

She held onto Cinder as Jaune jabbed at her with his sword and unleashed the lightning dust stored within the blade, the yellow lightning rippled down the sword and across Cinder and Pyrrha both alike. Cinder could feel Pyrrha being shocked by the electricity, her limbs jerking, trembling, Pyrrha’s teeth chattering in Cinder’s ear, but she held onto Cinder nonetheless.

She held onto Cinder as Cinder kicked Jaune away, using Pyrrha’s hold on her to kick off the ground and plant her feet into Jaune’s chest hard enough to send him flying.

Pyrrha held onto Cinder even as Cinder let fire erupt out of her in all directions, leaping out of her hands like the dragons of old Mistrali legend, long necks craning this way and that, the fire engulfing them, engulfing Pyrrha, burning her aura away.

Yet she hung on regardless.

“Penny!” she cried.

Penny’s eyes were wide with anxiety, or fear, or just with concern, but nevertheless, she gathered all her swords in front of her, forming a ring of swords. No, not of swords, because the swords condensed down, halving in length.

A ring of green lasers, their beams combining into a single awesome beam as thick as the trunk of the mightiest tree.

The beam, which cut through Cinder’s flames and slammed into her, carrying her and Pyrrha both into the shield once again.

The beam which shattered Cinder’s aura.

Red light rippled up and down Cinder’s body as Pyrrha released her from her grip.

Cinder flopped forward, breathing heavily, gasping for breath as her heart pounded. She felt the impact with the tarmac beneath her. She felt the pain in her hands, her arms, her elbows, her breasts, her face, everything which struck the ground.

Everything which had not, too. It all hurt. Every nerve and cell in her body was protesting.

My body must protest, since my spirit cannot.

She had lost. Again. And the consolation that this time she had been mobbed and defeated by a multitude meant very little because she had lost again. She had been defeated, for the last time.

This was how her story would end: death, not glory. The last forlorn charge had, indeed, proved to be a forlorn and hopeless thing. She couldn’t even see Amber anymore. When had she gone? Cinder hadn’t even noticed, so caught up had she been in the battle.

The battle which she had lost. The emperor had survived, the rebellion had been snuffed out, and she…

Dust and food for worms.

Sunset, she could see, was down on one knee, panting a little. Maintaining the shield must have been difficult with all of the abuse they were inflicting on it.

Cinder began to reach for her, sliding her tired, heavy, aching arm across the tarmac surface of the road.

Will you remember me, Sunset? Will I linger in your memory?

She clenched her hand into a fist, and pulled her arm back.

Or will it be as Emerald said, that we are fated to be forgotten ere our bodies are grown cold?

Sunset looked at her. There was something in her eyes, something … Cinder wasn’t sure how to describe it, she didn’t know what it meant, but there was something … something there, she was sure of it.

She just didn’t know what it was.

Remember me, Sunset. Please.

She smiled, because she would not beg. She would not beg for her life, nor for anything else. She was not Phoebe. She would not die like Phoebe. She would be resolute, in her last moments.

Pyrrha walked in front of her. Her steps were tottering, uncertain. She looked as though she might fall. It occurred to Cinder that her aura, too, might be broken. Or perhaps not; she did not look quite heavy-footed enough for that.

She had her spear in her hands.

Cinder looked at her, silent but expectant.

“What would you have of us?” Pyrrha asked. “What mercy?”

“No mercy,” Cinder said. “Let that which is customary be done.”

“That which is customary,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Pyrrha,” Sunset whispered.

Now, it was Pyrrha’s turn to close her eyes for a moment. “You saved my life,” she said. “You saved all our lives.”

“And yet, I am your enemy,” Cinder reminded her.

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, you are all our enemy.”

The sound of sirens began to echo in the distance, still some way off now but growing closer by the moment.

“Let that which is customary be done, you say,” Pyrrha repeated. “Yet you forget that we are not in Mistral, Cinder. It is the custom of this country that those who have broken the law will be tried according to the laws of Vale, sentenced, and then Valish justice shall be done upon them. When the police arrive, as I think they soon will, we will hand you over to them.

“That is the custom in this kingdom. And that is what we shall do.”

Speak Only Good Things (New)

Speak Only Good Things

Cinder sat on the other side of the two-way mirror, her hands, her painted nails — painted black, in what was perhaps a case of taking a point too far — resting lightly upon the metal table in front of her.

Her wrists and ankles were both bound. Team SAPR had advised the arresting officers that merely suppressing Cinder’s aura might not be sufficient, and so, both hands and legs were held in place with gravity-dust-infused restraints, too heavy for her to resist.

It was possible that she could use magic to escape from those restraints regardless, aura or no, except that she didn’t really seem to want to escape. Since losing the battle, she had … well, she had undoubtedly been disappointed at being taken alive, but she hadn’t tried to get out, to force the issue to a second fight, she hadn’t put them in a position where they simply had to kill her because nothing else would do to stop her rampages. She was quiet and still. She sat with her back straight, refusing to lean against the back of the chair, and although she rested her hands upon the table, she did nothing with them. She looked at the door, and said nothing, and did nothing, and did not move. She did not even turn her head.

It was … rather uncanny, to be perfectly frank. She seemed less like a person and more … more like a doll, a perfect, pretty, obedient little doll who sat in her appointed place in the tea party and smiled and said or did nothing untoward.

Except that Cinder was not smiling. Her mouth was tight and close, the corners of her lips turned slightly down. No, she was no smiling doll; for all her stillness, there was too much melancholy hanging about her like perfume, she was … she was a puppet whose puppeteer had left her unattended, and so she sat, and waited for someone to pick up her strings and bring her life again.

Is that all she ever was? Is that what we all feared so much? Salem’s puppet, who was nothing without a hand to pull her strings?

If that is all she was, then why were her strings pulled in that particular direction tonight?

That was something … with the heat of the moment passed, it was something that Pyrrha was somewhat puzzled by. Yes, there had been a chance that Cinder might triumph and kill Amber, but it had been a thin chance indeed, especially the brazen way in which Cinder had chosen to go about it, to announce her presence when Amber was so far away and they had so much time to summon Yang to spirit her off, so much time to plan their response.

Cinder had been indiscreet tonight, to say the least, and that … that made Pyrrha feel that it was rather unfair of her to think of Cinder as a mere puppet, a vessel for Salem’s will.

Cinder’s actions tonight had been the actions of a particular sort of warrior, one who had marinated for too long in certain Mistralian traditions, one who carried them to excess, to the point … the point, perhaps, of self-parody.

No, Cinder was not a puppet; she was … she was someone who knew how she wished to be seen and was willing to sublimate all other considerations towards that end.

In that, she might, perhaps, be found somewhat admirable. Certainly, it was easier to admire her after a night in which no one had died, in which no one — as far as Pyrrha knew — had suffered anything more than scrapes and bruises.

If only she had not sat so still, and so lifelessly.

But if she wishes to do so, then who am I to tell her otherwise? If silent stillness is the last consolation that remains to her, then I should leave her to the pleasure of it.

All other joys are ours tonight.

Why Cinder had done what she had done, what had driven her to it, that mattered less than the fact that she had done it, and all else that had flown from that.

They had won. They had beaten her. Truly defeated her, not a partial victory or a symbolic victory or a victory that renewed the spirit but offered no material change in their circumstances; they had beaten her. Cinder was locked away, and Salem’s tooth was pulled.

Amber was safe. They were all safe, and they could go forward into tomorrow’s tournament and the days to come in peace and serenity.

Whatever fresh challenges or new enemies might lie before them, that all lay ahead, in the future, perhaps the distant future. For now … Pyrrha remembered the night of her duel with Cinder, when it had seemed then that she might be able to bring an end to things. That had proven beyond her skill, but it had not proven beyond their combined skill and courage tonight.

They had won. The shadow, though it might lengthen and grow again, was lifted. Tonight, there was only joy, and all good things that belonged to them.

Let us speak only good things tonight and let no sorrow intrude upon our thoughts. For this is our hour. Tonight we have repaid at last the faith Professor Ozpin placed in us.

Though Pyrrha was a little out of love with Professor Ozpin now, compared to times past, nevertheless, the fact that they had now finally proved themselves worthy to have been chosen, for all that the act of choosing had been a little less of an honour than it might have once had seemed, it formed a piece of the mosaic of proud good cheer that swirled within her breast.

Tonight, we have proven ourselves worthy, beyond doubt, for all that the worth of Professor Ozpin is less than I once thought.

But think not of that. Not tonight. Speak only good things.

We are triumphant, and may enjoy light hearts for a while at least.

The five of them — Pyrrha, Jaune, Sunset, Ruby, and Penny — were standing in a police station, the closest one to the sight of their battle and Cinder’s downfall. It was a grey, sterile-smelling place, where the lights were very bright, making the somewhat under-cleaned state of the room quite obvious. They stood outside of the interrogation room, watching Cinder as she sat so still, so unchanging in expression.

Meanwhile, the squadroom floor around and behind them was abuzz with activity, officers moving this way and that, doing this or that, Pyrrha wasn’t entirely sure. Several of them were making scroll calls, although who they were calling, she couldn’t have said either. Some of the police officers were plainclothes detectives, but there were a great many officers in forest green uniforms and body armour, their faces hidden behind masks and helmets, carrying submachine guns in their hands as they stood on guard or simply patrolled restlessly, fingers not far from the triggers of their guns.

They were there because of Cinder. Nobody had tried to interrogate her yet, but it would surely come soon.

At least, Pyrrha thought it would. Perhaps it wouldn’t. Perhaps the case against Cinder Fall was so open and shut that there was no need to ask her anything.

Would she answer any questions, if she was asked? On the evidence of her behaviour, it didn’t seem likely.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Ruby asked, her voice soft so that it didn’t carry across the room, but only reached the five of them.

Penny looked down at her. “You mean stopping Cinder?”

“No!” Ruby said at once. “No, obviously that was the right thing.” She paused. “I mean … did we do the right thing handing Cinder over to the cops?”

“What other choice did we have?” asked Jaune.

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Ruby. “We could have—”

“Killed her?” Sunset asked. “You wanted to kill her in the street, in front of all those people?”

“She deserves it,” Ruby said.

“She saved our lives,” Pyrrha reminded her.

“That doesn’t cancel out the bad that she’s done,” Ruby pointed out.

“Maybe it doesn’t, but do you really want to be remembered for the rest of your career for that video of you gutting someone in the street in the sight of the whole crowd?” asked Sunset. “Is that what you want the legacy of Ruby Rose or Team Sapphire to be?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I guess … when you put it like that … no, not really. I wouldn’t mind doing it, but … no. No, I don’t want that to be what I’m remembered for. I don’t want it to be … everyone would just bring it up all the time, wouldn’t they?”

“I rather fear so,” Pyrrha murmured. “Nevertheless, if it were a choice between killing Cinder or letting her go … but I do not see that we have at all failed, or done anything disgraceful by our present course. Quite the opposite, in fact.” She smiled. “We’ve won. Cinder is beaten. So, please, let’s not regret. Let us speak only good things tonight.”

Ruby looked at her. “'Only good things'?”

“Why not?” asked Pyrrha. “What ill have we to speak of on this, our victory night?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Ruby murmured. She smiled. “Our victory night. It does sound pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

“I think we deserve to sound pretty cool,” Penny declared. “Because we were pretty cool, weren’t we?”

“You, especially, were very cool, Penny,” Pyrrha told her. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Really?” Penny gasped. “But all I did was—”

“Break Cinder’s aura?” Pyrrha suggested.

“But you and Ruby had weakened it, and Jaune too, and you were the one holding her down—”

“And it was a team effort,” Jaune put in. “We did together what I think not even Pyrrha could have done by herself.” He smiled sheepishly at her. “No offence.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Can there be offence in being right?”

Jaune shrugged. “Depends on how you say it, I guess.”

“You said it plainly and well enough,” Pyrrha assured him. “We won because we stood united, while Cinder stood alone. If any of us had stood alone, and she half a Maiden … but this is not the time to dwell upon such might-have-beens.”

Jaune grinned. “'Only good things.'”

“'Only good things,'” Pyrrha agreed.

“You all did very well,” Sunset murmured, taking a step closer to the one-way glass. “You all … you were superb, all of you, first rate in skill and courage.”

“But we couldn’t have done it without you, Sunset,” Penny told her. “Just because you didn’t—”

“Contribute much of anything?” Sunset tossed out the suggestion without turning her head.

“That’s not true!” Penny insisted, taking a step forward and reaching out to take Sunset’s hand. “It was you who made that shield so that we could all fight Cinder without anyone else getting hurt! Otherwise, there might have been stray bullets, or Cinder’s fire, or… who knows what might have happened and to who? Sunset, look at us!”

Sunset turned her head. Her brow was furrowed, and her ears were drooping downwards ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Penny.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself down just because you were preoccupied with keeping the shield up,” Penny said. “The shield was important. It was a team effort, and it was an effort by you as part of the team just as much as anyone else. It’s like Pyrrha said: you can’t be miserable tonight just because you didn’t get to do a load of flashy attacks.”

Sunset laughed slightly. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound very silly indeed, doesn’t it?”

Penny stepped back, pulling Sunset back with her. “That’s because you are being silly,” she said.

“Alright, alright, don’t rub it in,” Sunset said, with laughter in her voice. She looked at Pyrrha. “Are you really ready to pronounce this a victory, and banish all … uncertainty? All—”

“All for tonight, but our accomplishment,” Pyrrha said. “Tell me, Sunset, why should we not? If I am being a fool, forgetful, or naïve, if there is some dark cloud that I have failed to notice or comprehend, then tell me true, for in truth, I see it not. This is not like Mountain Glenn, this is not like my duel with Cinder in the forest, this is no incomplete victory, this is no wounded triumph that we have snatched from the jaws of disaster, this … this is all silver, and an absent cloud, or so it seems to me. Cinder has not just been defeated, but locked away in that very room before us, and she seems … she seems to me defeated in the spirit as well as in the body. She will be locked away, for a little while at least, where she can do no harm to anyone, least of all to Amber. Amber is safe and sound and beyond harm, and she may come to Mistral with us, and thence to Atlas maybe with Ciel and the others; she may see the world, with us but without fear of who may dog her steps there, for who might have dogged those steps sits before us under lock and key. Salem still lurks, true, but she must wait 'til she can find some other Cinder to do her wickedness. What have I forgotten? What is there that stains our golden world?”

There was a moment of silence as her friends considered that.

“Emerald?” Ruby suggested.

“Emerald … is but a limb of Cinder,” Pyrrha declared. “She did Cinder’s bidding, served her in some offices, but absent Cinder’s bidding, her guiding mind, she cannot harm us. I am not sure that she would even want to. Cinder was everything, and Cinder … Cinder sits before us.”

“Your voice is full of conviction,” Sunset observed.

“I should hope so; I am convinced,” Pyrrha replied. “And full of the desire to convince you, that you might share in my joy of this.” She paused for a moment. “But I spoke truly when I say that if I am wrong, if I am mistaken, if I am forgetting something, then … tell me. Speak up, I beg, lest … well, I’ve probably already humiliated myself with that speech, but nevertheless, I would staunch the wound of my embarrassment, if it is that I am unaware of.”

“You’ve convinced me,” Jaune said, putting one arm around her, and pulling her close, so that their bodies were pressed against one another, side by side. “And it does feel … different, doesn’t it? Like Pyrrha said, it doesn’t feel like Mountain Glenn, or like that night in the forest; it … it doesn’t feel like there’s anything … I don’t know about the rest of you, but is anyone really thinking ‘oh, I wish that I’d been able to do this’ or ‘if only this had gone better’? Does anyone have any regrets about tonight, any at all?”

“Well … I have one,” Penny said tremulously.

“What is it, Penny?” asked Ruby.

“I’m a little disappointed that we, and Amber, didn’t get to have fun at the carnival without getting interrupted,” Penny pointed.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes, yes, I suppose that is a fair point, Penny, but—”

“But think how much more fun Amber will be able to have, now that she doesn’t have Cinder to worry about,” Ruby said.

“Right,” Penny agreed.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” Sunset said. “This … this is a win. This is a real, unmarred win.” She let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and sigh, rattling as it issued from her throat. “Huh. So that’s what that feels like.”

Pyrrha reached out, wrapping her free arm around Sunset’s shoulder and drawing her in, pulling her close on the other side of her from Jaune, even as Ruby and Penny joined in the embrace on Jaune’s side.

“It’s over,” she said. “As we thought that it might be on the night of the duel, it is over. We’ve done it.”

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Ruby asked, prompting a round of soft laughter from the others.

“What will happen to Cinder now?” asked Penny.

Silence fell among them, everyone’s eyes once more turning to the one-way mirror and their fallen foe who sat so still within, and so utterly silent.

“She…” Jaune began, but then trailed. “She’ll be put on trial, I guess; that’s what usually happens with criminals, at least. And then, after that…”

“She’ll pay for what she’s done,” Ruby said, her voice firm and unyielding.

Sunset began, “You mean—”

“She’ll hang,” Ruby said.

Pyrrha was a little surprised that they still hanged people in Vale. Yes, in Mistral, it was the most common method of execution — the last person to be crucified had been so put to death during the Great War — but she would almost have expected Vale to have had some more modern practice. If indeed they put people to death at all.

“Perhaps Cinder would have preferred a death in—”

“Dead is dead,” Sunset said. “No matter how it happens, the end result is still the same.”

“But the manner of it—” began Pyrrha.

“Doesn’t matter much compared to the result,” Sunset muttered.

“Cinder chose this,” Ruby said. “She chose this life.”

“Not at first she didn’t,” Sunset replied softly.

“You pity her,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I think I do pity her. I always have, ever since that night. I pity her and … is there not something in her to be pitied?”

“From what you have said, it seems so,” Pyrrha admitted. “And yet … Ruby is right: she chose this road, she cannot complain where it leads. Nor do I think that she would want to.” She paused. “And, once she is … it seems likely that the … you know, will be reunited in Amber.”

“Yes,” Sunset acknowledged. “Yes, Amber … Amber triumphs from this, even more than we do. The shadow is banished from her completely.”

“Maybe not completely,” Jaune pointed out. “They know who she is now.”

“But for now, she’s free,” Penny said. “And so are we.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, Penny, so are we.”

Their attention was all arrested by the sound of snapping feet upon the grey linoleum floor of the police station.

They turned to see Professor Ozpin walking into the room, accompanied by Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood and greeted by salutes from the uniformed police officers.

He did not return their salutes, but he did nod affably to the officers and murmured a few words to them as he passed by.

He, and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch, made their way towards Pyrrha and the others. It seemed to Pyrrha that there was a spring in Professor Ozpin's step that she had not seen before; he walked with an uncharacteristic bounce, and his cane, too, bounced somewhat as he held it by his side, rising up and down as he walked like a ship borne upon strong waves.

A smile played across his features, and Pyrrha would even go so far as to say that he seemed a younger man, the lines on his face less pronounced, the slump of his shoulders vanished.

"Professor," Pyrrha said, a touch of surprise entering her voice. "Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood."

"Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said warmly as he came to a halt close by, looking down upon them all. "Miss Shimmer, Miss Rose, Mister Arc; Miss Polendina," he added, after a moment's pause. "You have — you all have, and ever shall possess — my thanks."

"And our congratulations," Professor Goodwitch added, pushing her spectacles back up her nose with the fingers of one hand. "As I have already been forced to admit to James, your plan worked better than I would have expected, and you have won a great victory in consequence."

"Well done," General Ironwood agreed. "I understand you got the final shot, Penny."

"Yes, sir, I did," Penny replied. "But only because Pyrrha was holding Cinder in place — in spite of Cinder trying to burn her — so that I could hit her. It was a team effort, by all of us."

"The greatest victories often are," Professor Ozpin declared. "There are valid reasons why the Vytal Tournament is structured as it is, but there are times I think the man who established it erred by not allowing teams of four to compete all the way to the final battle, that the message of cooperation not be diluted by the celebration of individual prowess."

"We kept the lesson well enough in mind, Professor," Sunset pointed out.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Yes, Miss Shimmer, that … that can hardly be disputed, can it?" He paused and began to blink rapidly behind his spectacles. "You have my thanks," he said once more. "On my own behalf, and on behalf of Amber, also. You have lifted a shadow from her and a burden off my shoulders. Thank you. You have done very well."

Sunset bowed her head. "Thank you, Professor; you are most generous with your words."

"It is over then, Professor?" asked Penny. "It really is finished?"

"Barring an escape," General Ironwood muttered. "Do you think they can keep her contained?"

"She doesn't seem to want to go anywhere, sir," Jaune pointed out.

Professor Ozpin, General Ironwood, and Professor Goodwitch turned their attention to the one-way mirror, and statue-like Cinder on the other side, frozen in the interrogation room.

They gazed at her as though she were a recalcitrant creature in a zoo, and they, the paying customers, were desirous for her to roar, or flick out her long tongue, or show her fangs, or do whatever it was that that particular animal was supposed to do to delight and awe the crowd. Cinder stubbornly refused to do any of it, until eventually, it began to sink into them that she had not done and would not do it.

"It seems you are correct, Mister Arc," Professor Ozpin murmured. "Although that could be a trick of some sort. Nevertheless, I would rather worry about Miss Fall's escape than worry about what she might do at liberty. Is it over, Miss Polendina? I feel confident in saying that something is over, even if that something is not necessarily 'it.'"

"In that case, Professor," Pyrrha murmured, "perhaps — at some point, even if not here — we might talk about Amber's future and whether she—"

"You are correct, Miss Nikos; now is not the time or place," Professor Ozpin said. "Apart from anything else, Amber herself should probably be present for the discussion, no?"

Pyrrha let out a sheepish laugh. "Yes, Professor, she should."

“Where is Amber now, Professor?” asked Sunset.

“She is back at Beacon,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Safe.”

“To say that she is safe now is almost a matter of course,” Professor Ozpin said. “Team Rosepetal is with her, but I almost think that we may dispense with a guard at this point; what further need has Amber of protection?”

“We don’t know,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But that doesn’t mean the need doesn’t exist.”

“You seem like you’re in a very good mood, Professor,” Ruby pointed out.

“Yes, Miss Rose, I daresay that I am,” Professor Ozpin replied with a lightness in his voice. “You must forgive me, all of you, but such good news, and so uncomplicated in its goodness, comes so rarely that I find that when it comes, I am inclined to savour it.”

“Just don’t make yourself ill by savouring too much,” remarked Professor Goodwitch.

“Professor, General,” Penny said, glancing around to make sure that all the police officers and suchlike were out of earshot. “A lot of people were filming our fight against Cinder, and she … well, she was using … you know. How are you, or we, going to explain that? Isn’t it supposed to be a secret?”

“Dust,” Pyrrha said at once. “Is there anything that Cinder did that cannot be explained by the use of copious quantities of dust?”

“How about the burning eye thing?” Sunset suggested.

“Well … in Mistral, there are dancers who paint their faces — and sometimes, I believe, more than their faces — with fire dust when they perform,” Pyrrha explained. “They wear it like makeup, only applied with considerably more gusto and less subtlety in at least some cases.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Penny said.

“No, indeed, it isn’t safe,” Pyrrha agreed. “A stray spark could ignite it.”

Penny began, “Then why—?”

“I’m guessing that’s the point,” Ruby interjected.

Penny blinked. “What’s the point?”

“The fact that they can pull it off without setting themselves on fire shows how good they are,” Sunset said. “How they can literally dance on the edge of the fire and not burn. It’s meant to awe the crowd with their prowess.”

“Quite,” Pyrrha agreed. “Or so they wish for it to be seen, at any rate. But my point is: who is to say that Cinder was not inspired to wear fire dust like eyeshadow? After all, I daresay that if I were wearing dust instead of my eyeshadow, patterned as it is, it might make a burning wing effect if it were ignited.” She paused. “I would rather not put it to the test.”

“Can I ask how you know about this?” Sunset asked. “It doesn’t seem like your scene, somehow.”

“I have never been to the sort of club where they perform,” Pyrrha confirmed, “but some dancers of that sort were part of the entertainment before the matches began in the last Regional Tournament in which I competed. It was … quite mesmerising to watch, I must admit; at times, it seemed as though they were competing to see how close they could get to the flames while still coming away unscathed.”

“It must cost a lot of money to be able to just wear dust like makeup like that,” Ruby said.

“Is it that different to me putting dust in my jacket?” asked Sunset. “I use that up and have to replace it, the same as they do.”

“Yeah, but you don’t wash your jacket every morning and have to replace the dust,” Ruby replied.

“Maybe that’s part of the point too,” Jaune said. “That they can afford so much dust that they can waste it that way.” He frowned. “Although, if the whole point of that is that it’s dangerous, and that if the dust catches fire, then that’s not good, then wouldn’t people expect it to hurt if Cinder set her eyeshadow on fire like that?”

“It would depend entirely on how much dust,” General Ironwood interjected, reminding them of the presence of the adults. “While I would strongly discourage any student of mine who wished to use dust to set their own body on fire, with a sufficiently light-touch application of it and aura that was in no danger of breaking, it could be done.”

“Although I’m not sure Cinder would like everyone thinking that she was inspired by a dancer,” Sunset murmured.

“Forgive me if I’m not swayed by that argument, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said dryly. “Yes, dust use is our best hope of covering up … what should be kept concealed. Fortunately, Miss Fall has been involved in the theft of a very large amount of dust.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ruby asked, “What happens now, Professor? I mean, I know that Cinder is going to go on trial, and then she’ll be found guilty and executed, but right now? Like now, now, what happens now?”

Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. “I am not entirely sure, Miss Rose. I should probably suggest that I be the one to interrogate Miss Fall, rather than an officer from Vale’s gallant police department. There are questions that need answering, and I fear that a police officer will not know to ask them.”

Like how Cinder, or Salem, knew that Amber was the Fall Maiden, Pyrrha guessed, but did not ask for confirmation.

“In fact,” Professor Ozpin went on. “I daresay that I should go and do that now, before anyone decides to finally—”

“Is she here? Is she here?” Councillor Emerald demanded as he strode into the squadroom, followed by the two Valish officers whom they had met at the reception in the Mayoral Palace not too long ago, General Blackthorn and Colonel Skybeak, and two files of Valish infantry. The soldiers — there were eight of them in total — were distinguishable from the police by the red cockades they wore on the left-hand sides of their helmets, as well as by the golden epaulettes they wore upon their shoulders. The police, uniformed and plainclothes alike, made way for them as they trooped inside, following their officers and the First Councillor of Vale.

The First Councillor himself outstripped them all, striding ahead of his general, his colonel, and his military escort — Pyrrha wondered why he felt the need of one — as he caught sight of Professor Ozpin and all the rest and headed towards them with the speed of a Bullhead outpacing a lumbering skyliner.

“Is it true?” he demanded, his voice trembling. “Is she here?”

“Good evening, Mister Councillor,” Professor Ozpin said pleasantly. “Or perhaps it should be good night, if that did not have connotations of—”

“Get on with it, man!” snapped Councillor Emerald. “Is Cinder Fall here?”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Miss Fall has been taken into custody, that is correct, thanks to the efforts of these brave young huntsmen and huntresses you see before you.”

Councillor Emerald turned his gaze upon them. Well, no, actually, it was Sunset, and Sunset alone, upon whom he turned his eyes. He stared at her, so much so that Sunset detached herself from Pyrrha’s embrace and stepped to one side, bowing her head, her ears drooping into her hair, her tail going slack and still … what did she have to be ashamed of? Why should she feel embarrassment before the First Councillor? She had played her part in a great victory; surely, she was not still plagued by the feeling that she had not done enough, when without her, the fight would not be possible?

Speak only good things tonight, Sunset, Pyrrha urged mentally as she reached out for Sunset’s nearest hand.

“Yes,” Councillor Emerald said softly. “Yes, I had heard that.” He held out his own hand towards Sunset. “Congratulations, Miss Shimmer; you have done Vale a great service.”

Sunset looked up, and swiftly too, her head snapped up so suddenly it was a wonder that she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Councillor?”

“I said 'congratulations,'” Councillor Emerald repeated. “Well done. Very well done, I must say.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Mister Councillor, First Councillor, I—”

“Have brought to justice the criminal responsible for all of the misfortunes of this year,” Councillor Emerald declared. “Thanks to you—”

“To us,” Sunset interrupted him. “Forgive me, Councillor, but if you really mean your praise, then the victory belongs not to me but to us all.”

Councillor Emerald gave a firm nod of his head as he turned his attention upon them. “Yes. Yes, I have no doubt that it does. Miss Nikos, I daresay that when this gets out, your reputation amongst the Mistralians will be burnished even brighter, if that is possible. Miss Rose and … Miss Polendina, isn’t it? Miss Penny Polendina, who will be transferring to Beacon next year.”

Penny nodded vigorously, a smile upon her face. “That’s right, Mister Councillor! I’m surprised you remember me.”

“You made quite the impression, Miss Polendina,” Councillor Emerald replied. “And, while I can’t speak for your teachers, I would say that you are off to a very good start in your Beacon career.”

Penny’s smile widened. “Really? Thank you, Mister Councillor!”

Councillor Emerald returned his attention to Sunset. “Will you shake my hand, Miss Shimmer? It would be very rude of you not to.”

Sunset looked down at his hand as though it might bite. “I … you do me an honour I am not sure I deserve, First Councillor.”

"Whatever has been done in the past," Councillor Emerald said. "Whatever mistakes or follies there have been, nevertheless…" He fell silent for a moment, and in that moment, Pyrrha thought his hand might drop to his side, but it did not. He kept it raised, proffered out towards Sunset. "Nevertheless, this is a moment for praise and celebration. A fugitive captured, and all without a single serious injury, which I understand was your doing, Miss Shimmer?"

"Yes, First Councillor," Sunset said softly. "Yes, it was."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "Take my hand, Miss Shimmer. You have earned it."

Sunset swallowed, and the look on her face still seemed far from overjoyed, but her ears at least pricked up a little as she took the hand that was offered her. "Thank you, First Councillor. I would be honoured."

The two gave a firm handshake, before Councillor Emerald let his hand fall to his side once more.

"This night," he declared, "is a night of accomplishment. A night for nightmares to be put to bed and mistakes to be put behind us. This is a victory won not by Atlesian guns but by our own Beacon students, into whose training Vale has invested so much."

Pyrrha could not help but wonder if he was practising his remarks for a subsequent press conference.

"Cinder Fall will be tried with the utmost despatch, found guilty, put to death and a line will be drawn between all the sordid business of this year. It is over now, and all done." Councillor Emerald turned to Professor Ozpin. "Where is she?"

Professor Ozpin gestured to the one-way mirror. "Just in here, Mister Councillor."

Councillor Emerald approached the glass, and as the others had before him, he gazed in at Cinder where she sat, as still as death, on the other side.

"Her?" Councillor Emerald said. "This is she? This is the person who brought down Novo, who terrified Vale, who has cast her shadow over this whole city for a year?"

"She has been more active than this in the past, Your Excellency," Pyrrha pointed out gently.

Councillor Emerald snorted. "No excellencies here, Miss Nikos; you're not in Mistral now. Has she said anything?"

"Not yet, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said. "I was about to request a closed interrogation, undertaken by myself."

Councillor Emerald frowned. "'Closed'? You mean no recordings, no video?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you up to something, Ozpin?"

"I have the legal right, Mister Councillor,” Professor Ozpin said mildly. “As I’m sure you are aware, being a former lawyer yourself, huntsmen—”

“Huntsmen have the right to interrogate suspected terrorists and organised criminals without details of said interrogation being recorded in any way; however, any accounts of such interrogations, such as the huntsman in question relaying what was said to him, are inadmissible in court, being counted as hearsay,” Councillor Emerald replied. “Yes, Ozpin, I am aware. I am also aware that that rule exists in the interests of life: in circumstances where every minute may count to prevent loss of life, it was felt that giving suspects the ability to speak freely without fear that they would incriminate themselves would encourage them to confess the whereabouts of any bombs, hostages, co-conspirators, or the like. But where is the risk to life that justifies such actions now?”

“Miss Fall may not have planted a bomb which we must race to locate, Mister Councillor,” Professor Ozpin said, “but she has obtained access to information that I, for one, believed to be a closely guarded secret. She has already attacked an … associate of mine, involved in dangerous undercover work with various unsavoury groups. I should like to know how Miss Fall learned their identity and whether any other associates of mine are similarly at risk.”

“And so you don’t trust the police to keep confidential information to themselves?” General Blackthorn demanded. “You don’t trust us?”

“Come on, Blacky, it’s not about trust,” Colonel Sky Beak said. “We keep information close to our chest; it’s about things not getting out further than they need to.”

“It’s ‘General’ or ‘sir’ to you, Colonel,” General Blackthorn said coldly.

Colonel Sky Beak cleared his throat. “Yes, sir, my apologies, but nevertheless—”

“As the leader and defenders of Vale, I would insist that we have the right to know everything that Professor Ozpin does,” General Blackthorn said. “Except that I’m not sure that a mere headmaster has any secrets worth discovering.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Councillor Emerald muttered. “Much as I might have wished otherwise at times.”

“First Councillor,” General Blackthorn went on, ignoring the interruption, “this is a waste of time; let’s collect the girl and be on our way.”

“'Collect'?” Professor Goodwitch repeated. “Collect Miss Fall?”

“Yes,” Councillor Emerald answered. “General Blackthorn has suggested, and I am inclined to agree, that Cinder Fall should be taken into military custody. She can be kept more secure by the defence forces than by the police.”

Professor Ozpin’s eyebrows rose. “That is … somewhat irregular.”

“No more irregular than keeping Roman Torchwick aboard an Atlesian man-o'-war,” Colonel Sky Beak pointed out.

Professor Ozpin managed a slight chuckle. “An excellent point, Colonel. Nevertheless, I find that I am a little surprised by this.”

“Just because something is new doesn’t mean that it’s a bad idea, Ozpin,” Councillor Emerald said. “Even a conservative like myself has to admit that once in a while. Without wishing to disparage the police, the Valish Defence Forces are better equipped and can more easily deal with Miss Fall if she should attempt to escape.”

Will it matter that much, if she does decide to escape? “You will be very careful, won’t you, General Blackthorn?” Pyrrha said. “Just because you have more guns than the police doesn’t mean that you should underestimate her.”

“This isn’t Mistral, Miss Nikos,” General Blackthorn replied. “I don’t need advice from a little girl, whatever her name is.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Of course, General, I—”

“I’m sure that Pyrrha has fought more battles than you have!” Penny declared. “What have you ever done that gives you the right to be so mean?”

“Penny!” Pyrrha gasped.

“What?” Penny asked, looking at her. “Don’t friends stick up for one another?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, a smile playing across her face. “Yes, they do, Penny.”

General Blackthorn’s face reddened, and a sort of rumbling sound, like the koax koax of a frog, began to issue from out of his throat.

“Don’t make a fuss, Blackthorn,” Councillor Emerald said. “You deserved that for your rudeness, tonight when these ‘little girls’ have brought the bogeyman to book.”

“First Councillor—”

“You will get your prisoner,” Councillor Emerald informed him. “And as it happens, I think that taking good care of her so that she does not escape before she is hanged is a very good idea. You will get your prisoner, but first, Professor Ozpin will get his interrogation. The law allows it, and as much as I would like to pry out some of his secrets, I see no need to pry into the identities of confidential informants and the like. Question her, Ozpin; we will wait here.”

“Thank you, Mister Councillor,” Professor Ozpin said, bowing his head. “I believe there should be a dark room somewhere in the precinct where we may speak unobserved.” He turned to Pyrrha, and to Sunset. “Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer, will you please bring Miss Fall for questioning?”

Cinder's Tale (Rewritten)

Cinder’s Tale

“Are you ready?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset didn’t answer for a second before she said, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“That pause was not necessarily reassuring,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I’m fine,” Sunset insisted. “What’s she going to do to us?”

“I didn’t suggest that you were afraid,” Pyrrha murmured.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, you didn’t.”

The two of them stood outside the door to the interrogation room, the room which the two of them would shortly move Cinder out of, and down to the dark room in the basement where Professor Ozpin could question her without anyone listening in. Where Cinder could spill the beans about Maidens and Salem and everything else without anyone who wasn’t supposed to know about them finding out.

How had Cinder found out about Amber? How had she come into Salem’s service in the first place? Would Professor Ozpin even care about that, or would he only be interested in what she’d done once she made it that far?

“You were right,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha waited a second for Sunset to go on before she said, “About what?”

“It is over,” Sunset said. “Everything … it’s over. Just as you said. This part of the story is done. And soon … Cinder will be over too. Cinder will be done. It’s like Ruby said, like Councillor Emerald said. They’re going to hang her.”

Pyrrha’s voice did not, thank goodness, become inflected with outrage, nor did her expression twist into something like disgust. Her expression remained mild, her eyebrows turned outwards, her head tilted somewhat, and concern remained the overwhelming tenor in her voice as she said, “And that troubles you?”

“I…” Sunset hesitated. “So what if she deserves to die? How many other people also deserve to die but don’t, who aren’t put to death?”

“She is a killer,” Pyrrha observed.

“I know that,” Sunset said sharply. “I’m sorry, I … I didn’t mean to snap—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m not sure it is,” Sunset said. “It’s just … maybe I just don’t like the idea of…”

“Of death?” Pyrrha asked. “Of dying?”

“Either?” Sunset replied. “Both.”

Pyrrha nodded slightly. “When I challenged Cinder to the duel, you told me that—”

“That was different,” Sunset said. “It seemed as though … only one of you could walk away. That was the point, those were the terms. Two enter, one leaves. That being the case … I didn’t want to lose you. I was prepared … as much as I feel … I don’t know how to describe what I feel towards Cinder.”

“Pity?” Pyrrha suggested.

“That,” Sunset agreed. “But not only that.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s what I have been afraid of.”

Sunset frowned. “That hurts, just a little bit.”

“Can you blame me?” Pyrrha responded. “Truly.”

“Yes, truly,” Sunset declared. “A bit.” She paused. “I chose you, on the night of your duel. I would … I will always choose you, if it comes to it, if I am made to choose between you. I would not trade or sacrifice you for her sake, and not only because I find the very idea of such things to be abhorrent, but … when you returned with news that Cinder had escaped, I was inappropriately glad of it. And now, when I do not have to choose between you, when you are safe and sound no matter what … I wish that she would not die.”

“It is…” Pyrrha hesitated a moment. “It is difficult to see how her road could end else. She started down a bloody path; did she imagine that it would end any other way?”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, I think that Cinder always … I don’t know, maybe there was a time when she thought that power could be hers, so much power that nobody could ever harm her, but no, I think … I think that she was always aware of the threat of death, and accepted it, provided that she might do some great thing before she died.”

“Something great according to her lights, at least,” Pyrrha said.

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, according to her lights, if not the lights that guide others. According to the old Mistralian values, pure and ancient and bereft of the … touch of modernity with which you gentle them.”

“I thought you liked Mistralian values.”

“It turns out that I like the pretend Mistralian values that you so often model,” Sunset replied. “The real ones … the edges are a bit too sharp for my liking. Which brings me to my point: just because Cinder accepted death as an occupational hazard doesn’t mean that I have to like it. Ruby accepts death as an occupational hazard — so do you, for that matter — and I don’t like that either.”

“It is the life we all have chosen.”

“That doesn’t change what I just said,” Sunset muttered.

“Would you have rather that I—?”

“No,” Sunset said at once, before Pyrrha could finish, because she could guess — she felt that she could guess, at least, what Pyrrha was about to ask. “No, I would not. She would still be as dead, and I would not care for that either.”

Some might say that all of this is grossly hypocritical of me, considering that I killed Adam. But I hope that some might at least be open to the possibility that, as a killer, I am in a position to know whereof I speak when I say that no, actually, killing people isn’t a very good idea.

Certainly, it didn’t do my soul any good.

And whether it did the world any good … Adam’s death may not have done the world any harm, but as for the rest.

And even Adam … I do not regret saving Blake, not for a moment, but…

Would there were water enough in Remnant to clear me of these deeds.

“I fear,” Pyrrha said, “you cannot save her now. The die is cast.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “Why do you think I’m like this?”

Pyrrha frowned a little beneath her circlet. “You don’t have to do this. Penny could—”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, I do have to do this. I … I owe her this. After all, this might be the last time that I… I owe it to her to look her in the eye.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Very well. Shall we go, then?”

“Yes,” Sunset said at once. “Yes… let us go. Let us go and either… let us go.”

She pushed open the door and stepped into the interrogation room, with Pyrrha a step behind her.

They were here to take Cinder to a dark room, but the room that she was already in seemed literally dark enough, with the light dim and the walls a very dark grey. Sunset thought the lights might be motion triggered, and Cinder had turned them off by being so very still, but even when Sunset and Pyrrha walked in, the lights did not stir.

Cinder did stir, however, the silent statue turning her head to look at them, her black-painted lips twitching.

“Sunset,” she said. “And Pyrrha,” she added, her tone becoming a little more arch as she said it. “What a…” She smiled. “Well, you are a sight more pleasing to the eyes than the heavyset police officer I was expecting to come through that door.” She chuckled. “A rather belated good evening to you both.”

“It is night now,” Pyrrha said, a touch of grumpiness entering into her voice.

“Is it?” Cinder asked. “Is it so? Have I sat here so long? Have I … slumbered without sleeping all this while? Have I let time’s flow carry me off so far?”

“It has been some time,” Sunset conceded. “Were you lost in your thoughts?”

Cinder did not answer that; though she was silent for a few moments, no answer to Sunset’s question came even when she spoke. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “If it were Pyrrha alone, I might think that she had come to do what she failed to do in the street—”

“'Think'?” Pyrrha asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Or 'hope'?”

“What do you think?” Cinder asked. “Do you think that I think or that I hope?”

“I do not know,” Pyrrha said. “You might hope for the chance to escape.”

Cinder laughed. “And what would that avail me? To be a fugitive running—”

“Have you not been a fugitive running all this time?” asked Pyrrha.

“Yes, I suppose you have a point there, but even so…” Cinder murmured. “Who would fear me then, were I to escape? You have beaten me, in the sight of all. The world has seen you defeat me. I am Cinder Fall, but what is Cinder Fall once all of Remnant has seen her fall? In truth, after you defeated me in the forest, I was much diminished, but I thought — I hoped — that I might yet recover some of my former menace. I fear that is beyond me now. There is … nothing left. Nothing but…”

“An early grave,” Sunset said, her voice becoming hoarse, a croak clawing its way out of her throat.

Cinder looked at her. “So, you are come as messengers, as in some old tragedy, to bring me news? Here I sit like the Mistralian Women, while heralds come and pile misfortunes on my head, telling me of—”

“A daughter dead?” Pyrrha asked. “Is that now the news you would have had some messenger bring my mother? Word of my death and the downfall of my line?”

Cinder looked at her. “Is your point that I have no grounds to complain, or are you personally affronted that I wanted to kill you?”

“Mostly the first,” Pyrrha said. “Those who live by the sword must accept that they may die by it, or they are the most monstrous hypocrites, no?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a monstrous hypocrite, would I, not when I’m already so many other kinds of monster,” Cinder said lightly.

“But I must confess that I am a little … I never did you ill, that I recall,” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Cinder admitted. “No, you did not. I … it was a shadow of you that I hated. A figure that I created in my own mind and gave the name of Pyrrha Nikos. At most, the best that I can say, is that I wished to end you because you were a symbol. A hero to many, an idol to more, someone whose death would grant me immortal life.”

“'Immortal life'?” Sunset repeated. “Did you think that … that Pyrrha’s blood would let you live forever?”

“I thought my name would live forever,” Cinder corrected her.

“And your body?” Sunset asked. “Your … your actual, real life, what of that?”

“What of it?” asked Cinder. “My life has been … my body is … I had little enough worth living for.”

“Did you try and find anything worth living for?” Sunset demanded.

Cinder leaned back on her chair. “No,” she admitted, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. She chuckled. “I suppose it’s a little late for that now.”

Sunset did not laugh. Neither did Pyrrha. Sunset couldn’t speak for her, but she, for one, didn’t think that there was anything funny in what Cinder had just said.

The smile faded from Cinder’s face. She kept her eyes on Sunset as she said, “Did you know that, in Mistral, a scion of a lordly house will be hanged with a silk rope, not the hemp rope that will be used on a commoner? So, Pyrrha, for instance, if she should fall out of favour like a star falling from the heavens, would get a silk rope around that pretty neck of hers.”

Sunset looked at Pyrrha. “Is that right?”

Pyrrha kept her eyes on Cinder as she nodded. “Yes, that is correct. It is an ancient custom, as so much in Mistral is. One that probably should have been reformed some time ago.”

“I would rather that Vale had some similar custom,” Cinder said. “I don’t think it does, do you?”

“I … doubt it,” Pyrrha said.

“I didn’t think your family was well-born enough to warrant you any such dignity,” Sunset pointed out. “Unless you meant to claim it through your stepmother.”

“Well, it would be the first and only time I would be glad of the old bat’s existence,” Cinder replied. “She ought to be good for one thing, at least; is that not fair enough?” She paused. “I do not fear to die,” she said softly. “But I would not … I do not … do not wish to be dragged forth caged and chained before the baying of the mob and made to kick my heels for their amusement. Is that not also fair enough?”

Sunset swallowed, but said nothing. There was nothing to be said upon the matter, at least in her eyes. It was fair enough, save that there was nothing else save for Pyrrha or Ruby to have made an end of Cinder in the street while she lay helpless, and that … that was no better, to Sunset’s eyes. It might tarnish Cinder’s pride a little less, but Cinder’s pride would be as dead as she was, so what matter if it were tarnished?

“We,” she said, “we are not here to tell you how you will … we are here to bring you to another room where you may be questioned by Professor Ozpin.”

Cinder wrinkled her nose. “Ozpin? Really?” She sighed. “And after that? When the learned Professor has squeezed me dry to his own satisfaction, what then?”

“You…” Sunset hesitated. “You will be taken into military custody pending your trial.”

“Ah, so I’ll be sharing the cell next to Roman?” Cinder asked. “That will be a joy.”

“Valish military,” Pyrrha corrected her. “Not Atlesian.”

Cinder became almost as still as she had been before Sunset and Pyrrha walked into the room. She blinked. “Valish military? I will be taken into Valish military custody?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “It was thought that … they’re worried about you trying to escape.”

Cinder laughed. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, I’m sure they are. They are very worried that I might escape and…”

Sunset took a step closer towards her. “Cinder?”

Cinder remained silent for a moment more, before she gave a smile that was almost but not quite a smirk. “Well, you don’t want me to tell you here, do you? Anyone might hear us here. I should keep quiet, and wait until you have brought me to the place that has been prepared, the dark place, for dark secrets, when I can tell you everything.” She raised her hands, although it seemed to take her some effort and involve a degree of fighting with the gravity dust. She grunted, and the muscles on her arms could be seen straining through the sleeves of her red and gold dress. “Come, then. I am in your charge and at your mercy. You may drag me there, or somewhere else, or anywhere you wish.”

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, who gave a nod of her head — the teal drops swayed on their golden chains, hanging from her circlet — as they both stepped forward, taking one of Cinder’s arms and pulling her upright.

The chair on which she had been sitting dragged and scraped along the floor a little as they hauled Cinder up. She weighed a lot more than Sunset had been expecting — probably thanks to the gravity dust, although Sunset couldn’t discount the possibility that Cinder’s dress was hiding a surprising amount of muscle — but with aura, and with Pyrrha there to help with the literal heavy lifting, they were able to manhandle Cinder out of the interrogation room.

And it was manhandling, because Cinder seemed to be averse to assisting with her own movement in any way, shape, or form. She let her glass slippers drag along the floor, the toe step scraping at the linoleum, while Cinder hung almost limp in the grasp of Sunset and Pyrrha, like a dead stag that had been shot by the hunters who, now, having killed the creature, had the difficult task of getting its carcass back to their waiting transportation.

The difference being that the hunters asked for this, Sunset thought, as she grunted with the effort of pulling an unresponsive Cinder along. “Would it kill you to move your legs a little?”

“You do remember that I’m about to be hanged by the neck until dead, don’t you?”

“Okay, yes, that was in poor taste, I admit, but even so—”

“And my legs are shackled together, if you’ll recall,” Cinder responded, in a tone that would have seemed very affable under different circumstances.

“Even so,” Sunset muttered. “You know you’ll ruin your slippers letting them drag on the floor like that.”

Cinder’s response was to suck in a sharp intake of breath and, with a grunt of exertion all her own, raise her legs up off the floor.

“Oh thanks, thank you very much!” Sunset snapped. “You know, sometimes, you can be absolutely insufferable!”

“Only sometimes?” asked Pyrrha and Cinder at the same time.

Cinder grinned. Pyrrha cleared her throat a little too loudly.

“Somehow, Sunset, I doubt that I’ll have much occasion for amusement in what remains of my life,” Cinder said. “You must allow me to have my fun while I yet live.”

Sunset gave a wordless growl, though directed less at Cinder and more at the fact — of which she had just been reminded — that Cinder was going to die … and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sunset had her faults, Celestia knew. She had her faults, and those faults had led her to make some bad decisions and do some things that she wasn’t proud of, things that she regretted. Things that would destroy her life if they came out. But whatever else she was — and she could be called many things, no doubt — she was … Sunset searched for a word for what she was that didn’t sound unbelievably arrogant, aggrandising, mythologising.

She didn’t want to call herself a saviour, a protector; that sounded too grand, too full of herself, too … too much, much too much. But equally, all the more prosaic alternatives sounded rather wordy: a saver of people, it just sounded as though she was dancing around saviour.

She wasn’t a saviour, but she was … she saved people, that was the long and the short of it: she saved people. She had saved Pyrrha from Amber, or rather, it made Amber sound less menacing to say that she had saved Pyrrha and Amber from one another, and from Professor Ozpin’s reluctant ill-intentions; she had helped save Amber from Cinder; she had saved Miss Pole in Arcadia Lake from the Tantabus and from Evenfall Gleaming; she had saved Blake from Adam.

She had saved all of her friends under Mountain Glenn, although that … that was certainly not something that she wished to put herself on a pedestal over.

Nevertheless, she … she didn’t let people die. She might … she might play some part in their deaths, but she had never been one to stand by and let someone perish while she could do something, anything, to prevent it. She found a way, just as she had with Amber and Pyrrha.

But this? How was she supposed to save Cinder? How was she supposed to find a way when the whole apparatus of the Valish state was turned against her, and as importantly, so were Sunset’s friends?

Because there were easy ways to save Cinder, provided that one was prepared to damn the consequences, but Sunset was not prepared to damn the consequences. She wanted to save Cinder’s life, but she wasn’t about to just spring her right here and now, or teleport away with her somewhere.

She wasn’t going to betray the others like that, not Pyrrha or Ruby, Professor Ozpin, not even First Councillor Emerald.

But, since she wasn’t going to take such a step, since she didn’t have the kind of … since she didn’t have it in her, for good or ill, then what was she to do?

And no, it didn’t matter that Cinder didn’t seem to care much about being saved. Since when had Sunset ever cared about that?

What mattered was that she couldn’t see a way.

I suppose if I was a real saviour, I’d just do it even though it meant everyone thought I was as much of a monster as Cinder.

I’m not sure a real monster would put Cinder back on the streets, in all honesty.

I’m not a saviour, I’ve just got an aversion to loss. Like an allergy for the soul.

Except I wouldn’t change it. It’s who I am. It is my crowning glory yet, for all that it has brought me shame.

Yet nowm it fails me. I cannot see a way.

Cannot see a safe way, for what that might be worth.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

“What?” Sunset responded, her head — which had become bent and bowed down to the floor — snapping up and around to look at her. “Yes, did I miss something?”

“That depends,” Pyrrha said. “But it has felt a little as though I’ve been leading you around as well as Cinder.”

“Right, sorry,” Sunset muttered. “I was just—”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “Yes, I imagine you were.”

“Sorry,” Sunset said again.

“We’ve all done it,” Pyrrha said. “At least, you and I have.”

“Not when we were carrying someone who refuses to pull anything like their own weight,” Sunset pointed out.

“I was managing,” Pyrrha said mildly.

But Sunset was glad that Pyrrha had roused her from her thoughts, both because they were approaching a flight of stairs, but also because Sunset’s thoughts were going nowhere, and getting her nowhere, for that matter.

It didn’t help, but focussing on the immediate destination, and of carrying Cinder there, was a welcome distraction. They carried Cinder — still refusing to help at all and taking a perverse glee in the lack of assistance — down a flight of stairs into the precinct basement, and from there, they followed some empty corridors, carried Cinder passed a couple of large printer/scanner/photocopiers that were obstructing the corridor, bore her between walls of breezeblock painted white, and all the while under the fluorescent lights that shone sterile light down upon them.

That might have been preferable to the oppressive — if appropriate — darkness of the dark room into which they finally got Cinder.

There was no one-way mirror here, no glass to see in, no cameras mounted in the corners, nothing to see, nothing to hear. Nothing but a small metal table and a chair with a wooden back, with slats running up and down it that, in the circumstances, looked a little bit like prison bars.

Sunset was a little worried about tripping, so dark was the room. But it seemed that it was as barren as it was dark, because they were able to get Cinder across the room and into the seat facing the door without incident.

Sunset let out a deep breath. “I hope you enjoyed that,” she said.

“It was somewhat of a bumpy ride, but I’ll be sure to give you a good review regardless,” Cinder said. “I’d give you a tip, too, but I’m a little financially embarrassed at the moment.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, we…” It seemed absurd that this was how it would end, that this would be the last time that she would ever see Cinder, the last time that she would talk to her, and yet…

Perhaps it was inevitable, as Pyrrha and Ruby and everyone else said. Perhaps it was the natural consequence of the roads that they were on, yet nevertheless … Sunset didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit.

And regardless of how she liked or didn’t like it, surely, they could all agree that it was absurd that this — this — should be the final moment between them. This!

“I…” I don’t want to go. I don’t want our last words to be sniping at you about a stupid thing that you did.

I don’t want it to end like this.

I want to save you.

But I don’t know how.

Cinder leaned back in her chair. “You know,” she said, “I would much rather talk to you,” — she glanced at Pyrrha — “both of you, I suppose.” She returned her gaze and attention to Sunset. “I would much rather talk to you than to Ozpin.”

“If that is what you wish, Miss Fall, then I don’t see why you shouldn’t,” Professor Ozpin said as he walked into the dark room.

Sunset looked in his direction. “Professor?”

Professor Ozpin closed the door behind him. “I am not so fond of the sound of my own voice that I must hear it,” he observed. “If Miss Fall would rather speak to you than to me, if she would rather hear you ask the questions which I trust you know to ask, then … by all means, I have no objections. Whatever helps this process to go as smoothly as possible. The truth is all that matters. If Miss Fall would rather give the truth to you, and to Miss Nikos, then … you won’t even know I’m here.”

He smiled benevolently as she leaned against the wall beside the door.

Cinder bowed her head. “Thank you, Professor; that is most courteous of you, most gentlemanly.”

“But why?” Sunset asked. “Why us?”

“Why you?” Cinder repeated, disbelief in her tone. “Why you? Come, Sunset, don’t you know?” She paused for a moment, before a smile crossed her face. “It’s because I want something from you in return.” She winked.

“Of course you do,” Pyrrha muttered.

“It is no onerous task, I assure you,” Cinder replied. “It will make no great demand upon your time — well, it may make some demand upon your time, but not upon your body or your soul. I do not ask that we should exchange armour, like Glauce and Helen, or that you should ransom me back the body of my daughter and my royal heir. It is nothing so … it is no great sacrifice I ask of you.”

“Then … what is it?” Sunset asked, sitting down on the edge of the table, looking directly down on Cinder. “What is that you would have of us? What is it that is in our power to grant?”

A rescue or a swift death.

“There was a time when I hoped for immortality,” Cinder murmured. “There was a time I dreamed of glory. That was what it was all about, really. Yes, power, I sought power, power to make myself safe and secure, power so that the likes of Phoebe and the rest of this bastard world could never hurt me again, but more than that … I wanted the world to know my name. I wanted Remnant to know who I was, to know that Cinder Fall was somebody.”

“Somebody to be feared,” Sunset murmured. “Somebody to be hated?”

“Well, it was clear to me that I was never going to be loved,” Cinder said. “But I could at least — I hoped I could, at least — write my name into the history books with infamy; though writers would record how awful I was, how I killed and ate up what I killed, how I slew the fairest and most promising flower that grew on the mountain and thus deserved to be cursed forevermore…” She glanced at Pyrrha. “At least they would record me. At least they would recall me. I would not just be one among the many who live and die in obscurity on the lower slopes, forgotten, cast aside, flushed out with the sewage.”

She bowed her head. “It hasn’t really worked out, has it?” She laughed, though there was more sadness than merriment in her laugh. “But … if you … if both of you, if…” She looked up into Sunset’s eyes. “Remember me. That is my price. I will tell you all you wish to know, and some that you will wish you did not know, but before that, I wish … I ask that you hear my story and that you remember me. Remember me, I … for I would not be forgotten. I would not fade, I would not disappear, I would … I would live on, in the hearts of … I would live on in your hearts, though Emerald tells me that that is impossible. I would be remembered. That is not so much to ask, is it?”

“No,” Sunset said softly as she found herself leaning forward a little. “No, it … it isn’t much to ask. Not at all.”

Pyrrha looked a little less happy about it, with the way her lips were pursed together, but even she took a step closer to Cinder. “I suppose … it is not too great a request, as you say. It is … you have been a dangerous enemy. At times, you have been a fearful one. I was not wholly confident that I would survive you, going into our duel.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cinder said.

“In that way,” Pyrrha went on, “you are worthy of remembrance, at least. You will … you mean to start at the beginning, then?”

“At the beginning,” Cinder said softly. “Well, yes, I would start at the beginning, except that … except that I don’t have a beginning. I simply sprang, fully formed, out of the darkness like a grimm. Do you know how the grimm are made?” She looked at Professor Ozpin. “I would have thought that you would know, but then, if you know, why keep it a secret?”

“Does it matter?” Pyrrha asked. “Amongst my people, our people, there were some who believed that they were Seraphis’ punishment for a sinful humanity, others who believed that they were animals corrupted by dark spirits, and others yet who thought them gods. There are still some who worship them as higher beings, more perfect than we are. None of it changes their nature, or what we must do to fight them, or even how we fight them.”

“No, no, I suppose it doesn’t,” Cinder allowed. “In any case, if we got onto that, I daresay that I might stretch your patience, and I wouldn’t want you to get bored before we’ve even started talking about me yet.” She smirked. “Now, where was I?”

“You have no beginning,” Sunset remarked. “And at this rate, you will have no ending either.”

Cinder snorted. “Oh, very good, Sunset.” She paused. “Even so, I have no beginning. I was born as you see me now, Cinder Fall, fashioned as if out of the clay. But there was a beginning. There was a girl, once. A stupid, naïve girl, who believed in joy and love and happiness—”

“She sounds very wise,” Pyrrha said.

“We should all hope to be so foolish,” Sunset added.

Cinder did not respond to that, but carried on as if they had not spoken. “She died, poor thing; she died, but not before the world taught her the error of her ways, how wrong she was to believe in stupid dreams. This life, this world … it killed the dream she dreamed, and as it killed her dream … so it killed her.

“But, for a while at least, she was happy, and safe … and loved. She was born in Argus, to … honest parents, but not poor ones. M— her father had wealth from … he had it from his father, who I think had been in business. Yes, yes, he had been a trader of sorts; he had owned an airship — although he never flew it, as I understand, he paid people to do that; he just took a cut of the profit — plying the route between Argus and Atlas, bringing tobacco, tea, and silk to the northland and bringing back dust in great store. He was so successful that he was able to buy more ships and left a small fleet of vessels for his son to inherit, that his son became a notable man about the city.

“It was due to his notability that the little girl’s father was invited to attend the annual Town and Base Ball held at the Argus military base, where the garrison opened its doors to civic notables and dignitaries in the aim of building better relations with the civilian population. And there, across a crowded room, the little girl’s father met the little girl’s mother, who was a young airship pilot newly assigned to the Argus station.

“He used to tell the little girl stories about her mother,” Cinder murmured. “When she was old enough to understand them. He used to tell them even after … well, even when he had to tell them very softly, and very secretly, he used to tell her anyway, because he loved her so. Because she was his first love, and his true love, and a part of him remained true to her in spite of everything.” Cinder closed her eyes, screwing them up tight, and then blinked rapidly.

Sunset wondered if she might be trying to blink back tears, but no, she could not see them coming.

“Which I think speaks well of that man’s character, don’t you?” Cinder asked, looking up, her eyes flitting between Pyrrha and Sunset. “I think that a man should be faithful to his first love, don’t you? All this modern talk of moving forward, moving on, finding new beginnings … all rot and nonsense. Offensive. Wicked. I might even call it profane.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Don’t you agree, Pyrrha? Men should be faithful in their hearts and hold dear the memories of those who gave them their hearts, even when they are gone?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Is that not rather cruel, such a request? What if they have many years ahead of them? Must they spend it in loneliness?”

“Better to be lonely than to be a traitor,” Cinder said.

“And what of women?” asked Pyrrha. “Do they not have an equal duty to fidelity? Or are the rules that bind men so tightly relaxed for them?”

“Is it possible for a woman to betray the memory of love as men do?” Cinder asked. “What do you think, Sunset? Are women capable of getting over it, the way men do? Or is all the glory of our sex the curse of loving longer, and more hardily, despite the circumstances?”

“Women are capable of realising when they have been in the wrong,” Sunset said. “When what they may have thought was love was something more noxious by far. But, at the same time…” She licked her lips. “I fear I am of your colour in the rest, I … if Pyrrha were to fall, and I were to see Jaune turn to embrace Weiss or Yang in his arms, I would curse them both.”

“You are more cruel than I then,” Pyrrha murmured. “I would only wish him happiness.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “That is why I said I fear it so, yet it is who I am; I am not of this travelling temperament, I cannot change it. Not without great effort, anyway.” She ran one hand through her hair. “I think I would rather hear about this little girl’s parents than continue this discussion, for just as I fear my nature, I fear the revelations of my nature make me seem a beastly sort in Pyrrha’s eyes.”

“I have never told myself that you were perfect,” Pyrrha said quietly. “But I am in agreement with you; say on, please.”

“Very well,” Cinder said, leaning back in her chair. “Where was I?”

“Your … the little girl’s parents had just met, in Argus,” Sunset said. “At the Town and Base Ball. Y— her father told her stories.”

“Yes, yes, he told her stories,” Cinder agreed. “Such stories. He told m— he told her about the dress that she was wearing that night, and how nervous he was to ask her to dance. She was an Atlesian officer, after all, and thus, however beautiful she looked in her dress, how gracefully she moved upon the floor, she was bound also to be as fierce and deadly as a hawk, as proud as a queen. Plus, as he told it, every officer and gentleman wished to dance with her, handsome young gallants of Mistral and Atlas; why would she want to dance with someone like him, a merchant with soft hands and spectacles over his eyes?” Cinder smiled. “But she did. Eros fired his arrows that night, and the two of them were drawn together by fate, whom no man can escape. They danced two dances, then the little girl’s mother danced with one of her fellow pilots, but after that, nothing would please her but that she should dance with the girl’s father again. Two days later, he offered to show her around the city, since she was new to Argus. A few days after that, she took him ice skating, and he made an adorable fool of himself upon the ice.

“By their third date, he was sufficiently convinced that she was the one that the girl’s father proposed marriage.” Cinder sniffed. “Jaune needs to shape up.”

Pyrrha’s only reply to that was a snort.

“What kind of family did the girl’s mother come from?” Sunset asked, despite herself. It wasn’t important, obviously, and some might no doubt have said that it was Sunset’s duty to move all this along as swiftly as she could … but there was a part of her that wanted to know all the same.

And if they were going to remember Cinder, then some would say it was their duty to remember as much of her as they possibly could.

“An ordinary one, I think,” Cinder replied. “She was more guarded in talking about her family. As I understand, they disapproved of her marrying a man she had just met. They made her choose, and she made her choice. I believe … I believe there was a brother, in Atlas, but the little girl never met him, never heard from him, never … he was not a part of her life. Her mother’s family were irrelevant to her; they might as well have been dead.

“Which didn’t bother the little girl, because what you don’t know, who you don’t know, you don’t miss. She had her mother, and she had her father — I fear that I have gotten ahead of myself, but suffice to say that the merchant of Argus and the Atlesian pilot were soon married, and only little over nine months after, the pilot was delivered of a healthy baby girl. A happy little girl, who spent her earliest years in the city of Argus.” Cinder frowned. “When did you come to Argus, Pyrrha?”

“Not until I was thirteen, to go to Combat School,” Pyrrha said. “After I had completed my training with Chiron — although I still returned to him during the summer vacation, and I was absent from Sanctum to compete in tournaments.”

Cinder nodded. “You and that little girl, then, were never in the city at the same time. Your paths did not cross, not even as ships passing in the night, you coming to the city as she left it. You see, the little girl, this foolish girl, this spoiled girl whose parents gave her every luxury and comfort … this girl who wore pretty frocks and ribbons in her hair of all the colours of the rainbow, this girl who collected little glass animals, all lined upon the shelves, a glass menagerie of elegant creatures, all the beasts and birds of Remnant in miniature; this girl who was so loved, who was loving and beloved, this girl who thought that life could be a fairytale … when she was six years old, her mother didn’t return from a mission. She was answering a distress call from a freighter, although I didn’t learn that until much, much later. All the little girl knew was that her mother wasn’t coming home, and that her father was sad, and that all the comforting Atlesian platitudes about duty and sacrifice and all the rest of that crap, all the volley salutes and carefully folding up the flag couldn’t disguise the fact that mommy was gone. That Atlas had taken her away.”

“Cinder,” Sunset murmured, reaching out across the table towards Cinder’s hands.

Cinder jerked her hands away. “We’re not talking about me yet, Sunset. This all happened to someone else. Someone who has passed beyond the need for your pity.”

Sunset sucked in a sharp breath. “Of course,” she muttered. “Of course, you’re right, how stupid of me. I should have remembered.” She paused a moment. “But, nevertheless, it occurs to me that, if it hadn’t been for Atlas, that little girl’s father and mother would never have met, and she would never have come to be.”

Cinder stared at her and made no reply, just stared at Sunset for moments that passed, as though she had once more lapsed into the stillness that she had settled into in the other interrogation room.

Then she resumed her story. “The little girl’s father was unable to bear his grief in Argus, haunted as it was by the memory of his late wife, so full of the places that they had gone and the things they had done together. And so, he sold his stake in the business, sold his house, and took his careless, spoiled little girl back with him to Mistral, from whence his family had hailed before his father set out to seek his fortune in Argus. There, he met another woman, a woman by the name of Lady Kommenos. Her first name wasn’t ‘Lady’ of course, her name was Alexia, but almost everybody called her 'Lady Kommenos' or 'my lady,' so her first name might as well have been ‘Lady.’ I imagine it’s the same for your mother, isn’t it, Pyrrha? And it will be the same for you, eventually. You’ve got a life of being 'Lady Nikos' to look forward to, until the only hard evidence that you were ever called Pyrrha at all is some Vytal memorabilia that has survived in the collections of obsessive fans.”

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “Stick to the point, please.”

“'The point'?” Cinder asked. “Yes, I suppose I ought to have a point, oughtn’t I? The point, the point, the point. Well, yes, the point is that he met a woman named Lady Kommenos, a woman of good, if not of first rate family, the current head of a house which, for all that it had had its ups and downs, for all that there were some who questioned its worthiness, for all that some said that they descended from traitors who had sold out their kingdom during the Great War and deserved to hang for it — with a silk rope, obviously — nevertheless retained noble status, and some claim to ancestral virtue through deeds done both long ago and more recently, through the valour of Achates Kommenos, who had remained faithful to the Empire and the Emperor during the War.

“He never loved her, of course, the little girl’s father. How could he love her, such a cold-hearted bitch as she was? How could he love someone so wretched, so ruthless, so conniving, so self-centred, so utterly and completely incapable of love? How could he go from his first wife, beautiful, kind, warm-hearted, the most perfect wife and mother, the most perfect woman that the gods could fashion … how could he go from Alcestis to a harpy? How could he make such a downward step?”

“No doubt,” Sunset said, for she had experienced the answer — or what Cinder believed to be the answer — in her own soul, when she discovered her semblance, “he was thinking of his daughter. How she needed a mother’s care.”

Cinder laughed. She threw back her head and roared with laughter. “Yes. Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what he was thinking. 'A mother’s care' indeed, his very words. His very words as he sat that little girl down on the bed and told her that he meant to propose marriage to Lady Kommenos. After all, she came from a good family, the best family that a man of his background could hope to marry into, especially as a widower with a child, his child who would be protected by the match. It was all for his child, his little darling, his beloved daughter. That’s what he told her, anyway. She would be a lady, which was almost the same as being a princess from a fairytale. Doors would be opened to her, she would attend the very best parties and wear the very best dresses, and handsome young men would come courting her. She would want for nothing, she would be able to do whatever she wanted, she would hold all of Mistral in the palm of her hand, free to do as she wished, and none would gainsay her. It sounds a wonderful vision to describe, doesn’t it?”

“It is not so simple as that,” Pyrrha murmured. “Even in the best circumstances.”

“No,” Cinder agreed. “No, not even in the best circumstances. He was a liar, that man, her father. He lied to her. He told her that it was all for her, because on top of everything else, she would have a mother again.” Cinder’s voice suddenly rose, becoming very high-pitched, ending somewhere in the region of Ruby’s voice, or even higher than that. “‘But papa,’ the little girl said, ‘I don’t want another mother.’ ‘Well too bad,’ her father said, although not in as many words, ‘you need a mother to take care of you, and I mean to make sure that you get one.’”

“And in return,” Pyrrha said, “Lady Kommenos received his money, I suppose. That, at least, was what my mother always believed: that Lady Kommenos had married a wealthy man of the middle class because the financial position of the Kommenos family was not as secure as it seemed, and she needed to shore it up.”

“I don’t know,” Cinder admitted. “I was never privy to the accounts, and neither was the little girl, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The Kommenos family didn’t have the broad foundations of prosperity which the likes of Nikos or Rutulus or Thrace or Ming rest on; they didn’t have vast landed estates that had survived the Great War. So it might be true that they needed that girl’s father’s money, and that they relied on it after … but again, I get ahead of myself. The little girl’s father married Lady Kommenos, showing either that the gods had stolen his wits away or that it was a complete fluke that he had been able to recognise the excellence of his first wife when he saw her across a crowded room.”

“Or that he was prepared to swallow a lot for his daughter’s sake,” Sunset suggested.

I’ve become so used to reflexively defending people’s parents and parental figures after they fall out that I’m now entering the lists to champion a man who has been dead for years.

“Much good it did her,” Cinder said. “If that really was his motive, then he was … but no matter. His motives are of little import now, and he cannot tell them. Suffice to say that he married Lady Kommenos, and the little girl gained a stepmother, and two stepsisters a few years older than her: Phoebe, whom you both know very well, and Philonoe.”

Cinder looked at Pyrrha. “If anyone has a cause to hold a grudge against you, Pyrrha Nikos, it would be that little girl, if she lived. All those times that you defeated Phoebe, all those times that you humiliated her, all those times that you made her look pathetic, incompetent, useless, even though she was older and stronger than you, did you ever think about how she felt? About what she did when she got home, who she took her frustrations out on?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, and for a moment more after that. “No,” she admitted. “No, I did not.”

“You were only a child; it’s not your fault,” Sunset said. “It’s not Pyrrha’s fault,” she repeated. “What happened to … to that little girl, it wasn’t Pyrrha’s doing; she didn’t make Phoebe … it would have happened anyway, probably.”

“Because Phoebe was inherently vicious and cruel?” Cinder asked. “Yes, I suppose you might have a point there. In any event, she didn’t become truly unbearable until after the little girl’s father died, when she was nine years old.”

Pyrrha nodded. “And shortly after that, the stepdaughter of the Kommenos family disappeared from public life. It was … even years later, it was something whispered of the Kommenos family. Lady Kommenos said she was dead, of the same sickness that had taken her father.”

“Did people believe her?” Cinder asked.

“Some,” Pyrrha replied. “Some thought that Lady Kommenos had poisoned them both in order to secure her husband’s fortune. Others … whispered of darker things.”

“But nobody did anything but whisper,” Cinder said.

“No,” Pyrrha said defensively. “Phoebe was … a bit of a bad sport at times, and yes, she could show flashes of a nasty temper, but to leap from that to assuming that she was … that she would … she was a lady of Mistral, the daughter of a noble house—”

“And so she was above suspicion?” Cinder asked.

Pyrrha swallowed. “It was believed that she would abide by a certain set of standards and values, yes.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Cinder snapped. “Far from it, in fact. So far from it as to make mock of all your standards and your values, even while I think that Phoebe Kommenos was the truest expression of what it means to be a Mistralian aristocrat that lives, or lived, until very recently. Her cruelty, and not your beauty fair, your kindness, your humility, Phoebe was the true face of Mistral.”

“No,” Pyrrha declared. “No, I do not accept that; Mistral is not so foul. There are many good and honourable people amongst its upper echelons.”

“Are there?” Cinder asked. “Name some of them?”

“Lady Medea, of Colchis, though her manner be a little … disconcerting, at times,” Pyrrha said. “And apart from that, the Lady Terri-Belle, the Steward’s daughter, another who can be a little blunt and direct but is a valiant warrior and an honourable one, a good Warden of the White Tower and a devoted protector of the city.” She hesitated. “Lady Medea’s teammates, Jason and Meleager, although as children, we were … not close, I think they have grown up to be huntsmen of good heart. Hector—”

“I was not expecting a list,” Cinder admitted. “It must be nice, to move in the right circles so that you can meet so many nice people. Or perhaps it’s just nice to be so protected by your money, by your grand old name, by your reputation that wafts before you stronger than perfume, that everyone falls over themselves to at least feign niceness towards you, because they don’t dare do anything else.”

“Cinder,” Sunset said sharply. “Lay off.”

“Forgive me,” Cinder said quickly. “I … you must allow me a little bitterness, in the circumstances. You see, after her father died, that little girl … she saw all her dreams, all her hopes, all her naïve and stupid beliefs about the way the world worked … she saw them all come crashing down around her. Without her father to protect her, the true nature of the Kommenos family was revealed: cold, cruel, grimly determined to promote their own interests, no matter who they had to hurt to do so. The little girl was abused, humiliated, stripped of her prized belongings, forced to watch as her glass menagerie was smashed for sport. All those beautiful creatures, so pretty, that glimmered in the light with such loveliness … all broken. All shattered. All destroyed, and for what? Just to make the little girl who loved them miserable, to make her cry, to remind her that she was all alone in that house with no one to protect her. And now I find out that everyone thought that she was dead! Well, they weren’t too far off the mark. They killed that little girl, Phoebe and Philonoe and Lady Kommenos, but Phoebe most of all. They killed that little girl, so sweet and loving, and in her place … in her place was someone who would steal the keys, lock up all the doors and windows, and then set fire to the house with Lady Kommenos and Philonoe trapped inside.” Cinder smiled. “I could hear them banging around in there, trying to get out as the flames devoured them.”

“They were two people you condemned to burn to death!” Pyrrha cried. “Two human beings!”

“Two humans? What were their names?” Cinder asked. “Because their names were not Lady Kommenos and Philonoe, I assure you.”

“Just because they were—”

“What?” Cinder demanded. “Just because they were what, Pyrrha Nikos? Do not make light of what they were, or of what they made that little girl endure. I will not suffer that. They got what was coming to them, and so did Phoebe.”

“So you did kill her,” Sunset said. “Phoebe, I mean?”

“Of course I killed her,” Cinder said. “Who else would have?”

“I’m not sure,” Sunset said. “But it clears things up now that you’ve admitted to it.”

“Happy I could help.”

“You do not regret?” Pyrrha asked. “Not even a little?”

“Regret what?” asked Cinder in turn. “I have regrets, to be sure, but if you’re asking if I regret what I did to Lady Kommenos, to Philonoe? No. I had cause. They had earned the fates that befall them ten times over. Am I not entitled to revenge the wrongs that were done to Ashley? Am I not allowed my anger, and to inflict that anger and the wrongs done upon those who did the wrongs?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Not according to the law.”

“If the law denies me justice, then fie upon the law!” cried Cinder. “If the law binds those whom it does not protect and protects those whom it does not bind, then what right has law to claim the standing of moral right? What right has law to deny the right of vengeance? There are older things than the current laws of Mistral. Ancient laws and older customs still. Simple laws, perhaps, but aren’t simple laws the best? Kick the altar, pay the price? I gave them the only justice that would ever be visited upon them. I will not try and say that about all those whom I have killed, some I will admit did not deserve to die, and some … some I will even own that I regret, but them? Those two? No. No, their deaths are not near my conscience; they do not move me. By all the old customs, I had the right to take their lives.”

“The old days are no more,” Pyrrha informed her. “And the old ways with them.”

“Perhaps that is a cause for pity, not for rejoicing,” Cinder said.

“The old ways would have made me a slave,” Sunset reminded her.

Cinder’s mouth opened with no words coming out. She stayed that way for a couple of seconds, frozen with her mouth open like a frog trying to catch flies. “Well,” she said eventually, “it seems that Pyrrha isn’t the only one who can embody a sanitised version of our Mistralian history.”

Sunset shook her head. “What happened after you killed Lady Kommenos and her daughter?”

Cinder shrugged. “I spent some time amongst the criminals of the lower slopes, I made an unsuccessful attempt to infiltrate the high society of the high mountain … but I didn’t really belong in either of them. I didn’t feel like I fit in anywhere. I was … I was too covered in ashes for the high, too ambitious for the low, because I was ambitious. I had a destiny, you see. A grand and glorious destiny. Everything that I endured, everything that I suffered, it was all just a prologue to the glories that were to come. All my sufferings were simply tests of my resolve, of my ability to endure. One day, it would all come good. One day, I would be rewarded. One day, I would have such power that nobody could ever hurt me again.

“One day, my name would live in glory alongside the likes of Pyrrha’s namesake, the two Juturnas, Camilla, Penelope, Theseus, and Alcestis, the great heroes of our storied past. One day, they would remember Cinder Fall in such exalted company.”

“Even if only as a villain?” Sunset asked. “A killer? A nightmare?”

“Better to be remembered as a monster of nightmare than to be forgotten as the kindliest little ant that ever crawled about underfoot, no?” asked Cinder.

“No,” Sunset said. “No, I … I once thought as you did, I admit, but now … to be an ant, surrounded by other ants who love it, who offer without reservation the treasure of their company … that is a finer thing than to be the most infamous demon or the most exalted hero who ever sat upon their high pedestals, far removed from all others.”

“I must confess that I … since I began to … I have enjoyed Emerald’s company of late,” Cinder said. “She made a better friend than a servant or a minion.”

“Where is Emerald?” asked Pyrrha.

“Gone,” Cinder said at once. “Whither she has gone, I know not, but she has gone. She has gone where she will, and I wish her joy of it. I sent her away.”

“Why?” asked Sunset.

“Because … because I cared about her,” Cinder admitted. “Because I didn’t want her to get hurt. Because I knew how this would end, or at least, I thought I did, and I didn’t want her to get caught up in it. She deserved better than that.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose a little. “I … see.”

“Do you?” Cinder asked. “Do you really? Or have I managed to shock you with my nobility?”

“You shock us because you sound like you intended to lose,” Sunset said. “What’s going on, Cinder; what was tonight about?”

“We haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet,” Cinder said.

“Right, no, we haven’t, have we?” Sunset muttered. “Have we got to the part of the story where you explain to us how you entered into Salem’s service? I mean, I can understand why you did — you wanted power, you wanted greatness, and Salem could offer you both those things — but … how? Nobody even knows Salem exists—”

“But people find her anyway,” Cinder pointed out.

“Exactly my point,” Sunset said. “How did you? How … how did you end up this way?”

“I chased a legend,” Cinder said. “Obviously. You know the story of how the prophetess Helen died, of the bandit and the Dark Mother?”

“We do,” Sunset said. “The Dark Mother told the bandit how she could attain great power by killing the prophetess, which she did, and used it to take over Mistral and become the first Red Queen. The Dark Mother was Salem, I take it; she’d found out — or worked out — how the Maiden powers worked and wanted to use them, and the trinket that she asked for in return, that was the Relic of…” She glanced at Professor Ozpin. “The Relic, it doesn’t matter which one it is, but the Relic held under … where were the relics held before the Academies?”

“You assume, Miss Shimmer, that the Relics were stored beneath the Academies,” Professor Ozpin said, speaking for the first time since Cinder had begun her account, “and not that the Academies were built over the vaults of the Relics.”

“In any case, you’re right,” Cinder said. “Salem was the Dark Mother, or the Dark Mother was Salem, either way. But how did she find the bandit? How did she seek out this outlaw, and why? Why her, out of all the brigands in Anima, in Remnant, why her?”

“Because she was eligible to possess the Maiden powers?” Pyrrha guessed.

“But how would Salem know that?” asked Cinder.

“Magic?” suggested Pyrrha.

“Magic can do a lot, but it isn’t an answer for everything,” Sunset murmured. “But don’t keep us in suspense, Cinder; if you know how she did it, then tell us.”

“There is a tale,” Cinder said, “that the bandit was not sought out by the Dark Mother, as the version of the Red Queen that is commonly told would have you believe; rather, it is said that a part of the tale is missing, that it was … misplaced, and that this missing part of the story tells that it was the bandit who first sought out the Dark Mother.

“In this lost part of the fable, the bandit, harassed by the Empress’ household warriors and desirous to find a way to save her robber band, went to a certain cave, a cave that was said to be the entrance to the underworld itself, where if one went down and down and far enough down, they would find themselves amongst the spirits of the dead and the spirits of those yet unborn waiting by the river Toth to rise to join their physical bodies on the appointed day. The bandit, it is said, went to this cave, and though she did not find any underworld there, no spirits of the dead, no clue to Mistral’s future and its heroes yet to come, she did find an immense pit, a gaping maw of darkness. And, though it was too dark to see, the bandit nevertheless perceived that something dwelt within. And so, she offered her plea to the darkness: she was a brigand, a bandit, a killer, and a thief, and she sought power to protect her people from those who would do them harm.

“From the darkness, it is said, came there no answer; but a few days later, the bandit was visited by the Dark Mother, who told her how she might obtain the power she sought, and so much more besides.”

Sunset swallowed, for her throat had become dry. “And … and is that true?” she asked. “Is that how you found Salem, did you … did you find this cave?”

“I did,” Cinder said, so simply, so casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that she had just described. “After all, the bandit and I had things in common; our wants were not dissimilar. And I thought … I thought that if there was any chance that the Dark Mother or someone like her would give me power, as she had pointed the way to the Red Queen, well … it was a chance worth taking, no? I couldn’t see how else I was to achieve my destiny; if I had another choice, I could not tell what it might be. And so, yes, I found the cave, although to put it so simply risks underselling the difficulty of it. Do you know how hard it was to find one specific cave in Anima? There are caves everywhere! If the location of this particular cave was ever widely known, it has long been forgotten, and it wasn’t as though I was welcome in any library to do research, scruffy-looking urchin as I was, with a malnourished and an unwashed look. I had to rely on scraps of geography mentioned in some versions of the legend, on local myths and old names by which places were sometimes known in days long gone. And by physically setting out across the wilds of Anima to find some of these places and see if they were what I was looking for.

“It was not always an easy road. It was often cold, there was very little shelter, my clothes fell apart, and I didn’t always have money for new clothes, or for food. I had set out to follow in the footsteps of a bandit, and for a time, I became a bandit myself. After all, while I had no money, no food, and no clothes, I had taught myself to fight, and I had weapons, and when you are cold and hungry on the road, and you have a bow and a sword and the person coming down the road in your direction has food or lien but no bow and no sword and no aura to protect him … I don’t need to spell out the temptation, do I? A temptation I was not always physically equal to resisting, and what resistance I made was as much to do with not wanting huntsmen set on my tail as anything else.

“Even then, subsisting upon the proceeds of banditry left my stomach aching, my body shivering, my skin clinging to my bones as my clothes turned ragged. It rained, it snowed, or else it was too hot, and I was drenched in sweat as I plodded on, step after step, under the heat of the sun. Only the thought of my destiny, only the thought that, one day, this would all come good, that it would all be worthwhile, only that belief kept me going.” Cinder snorted. “It seems I am as much a fool as that little girl.”

“But you did find the place?” asked Sunset. “You found the cave that you were looking for?”

Cinder nodded. “I did, eventually. I found the cave, the right cave, and just as the bandit had done before me, I went down into the dark and offered up my truth and my desire. I was a murderer, I confessed, and I wanted to rise so high that all would be forced to look up to me in awe.”

“And terror,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Terror is a form of awe, don’t you think?”

“So you spoke to the darkness,” Sunset said. “And then what? Did Salem visit you, as she had the bandit?”

“No,” Cinder said. “No it was a grimm who answered from out of the darkness, a giant grimm that swallowed me whole.”

Sunset blinked. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Cinder insisted. “It swallowed me, and the last thing that I remembered was the great bony head of this monster erupting towards me out of the darkness, with burning red eyes, and then … nothing. Nothing until I opened my eyes again, and I was … somewhere else. Somewhere else altogether. Not Anima, a different place, a dead place, no birds, no beasts, no grass or flowers, a dead world of barren rock under a blood-red sky.

“And Salem, standing over me, offering me a hand to help me up.” Cinder smiled. “Or perhaps the grimm ate me, and everything has been a sort of fever dream in my last moments as I am digested.”

“I hope not,” Pyrrha said.

“No,” Cinder agreed. “No, I rather hope not too; that would be very disappointing, that … that wouldn’t do at all.” She paused. “She was terrifying, Salem. Terrifying and alluring and majestic and … powerful. She showed me her ability to command the grimm, she showed me some of her magic, and she convinced me that she was the one who could answer all my prayers. She was the one who could help me achieve my destiny, and my heart’s desire.”

“And so you agreed to work for her,” Sunset said.

“You agreed to help her wreak destruction on the kingdoms,” Pyrrha said sternly.

“What had the kingdoms ever done for me?” asked Cinder. “Yes, I agreed to be her servant. I knelt to her and swore her my allegiance, to be her sword and faithful servant. She, in turn, promised to be a good and faithful mistress, that I should always have a place at her table.”

“And then she sent you to kill Amber,” Pyrrha said.

“No, first, she told me of her own need,” Cinder said, “of the Relics and that the only way to open the vaults that held them was to possess the Maiden powers. Then I made my plan, I recruited Emerald and Mercury and Lightning Dust, I hired Roman Torchwick, and I approached Adam Taurus of the White Fang, who refused me, at first. He didn’t want his people dying for a human cause. Or that’s what he said. I think, as much as anything, he just didn’t believe that I could pull it off.

“Then, after all that, I attacked Amber.”

“How did you know where she was?” Sunset asked. “Or rather, I suppose the question is how you knew who she was? The identities of the Maidens are kept secret.”

“Yes,” Cinder agreed. “Yes, they are a carefully guarded secret. You don’t know who the other Maidens are, do you, either of you? And the Maidens don’t know who their fellow Maidens are. The only people who know the Maidens’ identities are the inner circle within the circle. Tell me, Professor, which of your most trusted counsellors did you suspect of treachery? Or did you trust them all too much and simply chalk it up to bad luck?”

“Answer the question, Cinder,” Sunset growled impatiently. “How did you know?”

“Lionheart,” Cinder said. “Professor Lionheart has bent the knee to Salem, as I did.”

Pyrrha gasped. Sunset’s eyebrows rose. That … that would explain a lot, actually; not only how Cinder had managed to get into Haven in order to infiltrate Beacon this year, but also the dearth of huntsmen protecting Mistral during the spring break. It might even explain Haven’s general poor performance under his leadership.

She looked over her shoulder, at Professor Ozpin where he leaned against the wall. Outwardly, he was impassive, his expression inscrutable … but he was gripping his cane a little tighter, and the white of his knuckles betrayed him even if his blank and bland expression did not.

“That … that is … can it be true?” Pyrrha whispered. “So many have fond memories of Professor Lionheart’s tutelage.”

“And so many others sneer at him for his faunus race, or for his incompetence, or for the lack of silverware in Haven’s trophy cabinet,” Cinder replied. She paused. “Do you know that it requires the affirmative vote of all three other headmasters of the remaining academies to appoint or dismiss the headmaster of any academy? It wasn’t the Mistral council who wanted Lionheart; it was his fellow headmasters who secured for him this post where he could be constantly humiliated, put down, spat on, derided; those who called themselves his friends made his life a living hell, and you find it impossible to believe that he might seek vengeance upon them for it?”

“Is that why?” Sunset asked. “Because he was tired of the racism and the criticism?”

“Or perhaps because he wanted to rule Mistral once the dust settled,” Cinder said. “Or perhaps he was simply afraid for his life, terrified by the insurmountable odds against you, and Salem promised him that he would be spared the bloodbath. I don’t actually know; we never discussed his motivations. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t really be very surprising, would it?

“And, if you want more proof, why don’t you look at how many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have disappeared recently?”

“'Disappeared'?” Pyrrha repeated.

“It hasn’t been widely publicised, but I doubt it can be kept a complete secret,” Cinder went on. “Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have been having the bad luck to consistently run into other servants of Salem. Now, why don’t you ask yourselves how that keeps happening, and who would have the information about their missions to pass onto us — and knowledge of the Fall Maiden’s identity?”

Sunset said nothing. She had already mentally conceded to herself that it made sense. And, in truth, she had no reason not to believe it. Who or what was Professor Lionheart to her? A man she had met all of twice, a man who hadn’t impressed her enough that she would give him the benefit of the doubt, a man who had the means to do all that Cinder accused him of doing.

“How long?” asked Pyrrha, her voice trembling a little. “How long has Professor Lionheart been in service to Salem?”

“I don’t know,” Cinder confessed. “Since before I came into her service, but after the Spring Maiden disappeared.”

“'Disappeared'?” Sunset asked.

“Yes, it seems the Spring Maiden ran away some time ago,” Cinder said. “The burden of her task got to be too much for her. She has not been seen these many years. Salem has someone looking for her, in between his other duties, and I presume that Ozpin has someone looking for her too, but Lionheart didn’t know where she was or have any information on the progress of the search. But, as much as the idea of striking down Pyrrha with a sword fashioned by the gods themselves appealed to my sense of the dramatic, Salem had decreed that the Relic of Choice should be the first to fall into her hands.” Cinder paused and looked at Professor Ozpin. “She wants you dead. She believes that with you dead and Beacon gone, then the world will fracture, and descend into chaos.”

“That will not happen now,” Pyrrha observed.

Cinder glanced at her. “You think … of course you do; you think you’ve won, you think that I am the only … there is a part of me that wishes it were so, although at the same time, I should admit that if it were so, I would never have … you asked why I acted the way I had, earlier. The reason why, the reason why I made such a grand entrance, the reason I made such a mad charge, the reason I was willing to risk everything is because … because I have nothing left. Salem, it seems, has grown tired of my incompetence; Lionheart is not the only one to betray your cause.”

“Someone else?” Sunset asked. “Who?” Not General Ironwood, surely; that would break the hearts of Blake and Rainbow Dash.

Professor Goodwitch? But then, she’s had chances to kill Amber if she wanted to; they’ve been left alone together.

Cinder licked her lips. “Do you know what a siren is?”

“Yes, it’s a magical creature from my home,” Sunset said, as much for the benefit of Pyrrha as for Cinder herself. “There were three of them; they had the power to use their voices, their song, to cause strife and discord amongst those who heard it. They would then feed on the negative emotions that they had stirred up to increase their own magical power, which they could then use to bend the wills of others.”

The way that worked was, in Sunset’s opinion, both ingenious in the way that it made use of a feedback loop whereby they never had to worry about a lack of negative emotion to feed on because they could create the negative emotion without expending their power to do it; for the same reason, she also felt that it was a bit of a cheat.

“They threatened to take over my homeland with that power, but they were defeated by a great wizard, who banished them to…” Sunset stopped, abruptly aware of where this was going. The anti-Atlas sentiment, the anti-faunus sentiment, the way that — for all that it could be argued there was cause for it, the Breach, the actions of the White Fang — that both had seemed to spring out of the ground one day, with no build up; the way that both Ruby and Yang had said that this didn’t seem like the Vale they knew, that something strange had taken over their kingdom. All of that was signs of a siren’s influence, but Sunset hadn’t even considered it.

Even after meeting Eve, after having it brought home to her the way that Starswirl the Bearded had used Remnant as a dumping ground for every villain and monster that he had wanted out of Equestria, even then, she hadn’t made the connection. She had just nodded along and accepted it when the others had said that it must be because of the Breach, because of the White Fang; she had just accepted their theories when she should have known better.

She should have known that there were other possibilities. More Equestrian possibilities.

Just because I’m far from home doesn’t mean that I’m alone. I should have remembered that. “He sent them here, didn’t he?”

Cinder nodded.

Sunset groaned and closed her eyes. “Once more, Professor, I must offer you an apology on the behalf of my people; we have used your world appallingly.”

“After you exposed me, and I had to leave Beacon,” Cinder went on, “Salem sent a siren here to Vale, at my request.”

“They serve her?” asked Pyrrha. “Then why hasn’t she used them before now?”

“They have been Salem’s prisoners,” Cinder corrected her. “Salem doesn’t trust them not to act in their interests, not hers. That is why she only sent one siren and kept the other two as hostages for her good behaviour. Nevertheless, one siren was enough for the new plan that I devised after you scotched my old one. I take it you found the virus in the CCT?”

“Twilight did, yes,” Sunset said.

“Clever, clever Twilight,” Cinder murmured. “I had intended to use the virus to turn General Ironwood’s androids against you, as well as to manipulate the draws for the tournament fights as part of a scheme too convoluted to get into now, but anyway, after it became clear that wasn’t going to work, I decided to use the siren, Sonata, to stir up enmity and hatred amongst the people of Vale instead. At some point, probably soon, grimm cultists will launch attacks on key elements of Vale’s civic infrastructure, which will be the cue and cause for the eruption of chaos in the city, rioting, and general disorder.

“Unfortunately, for both of us, Sonata has spread her influence into the Valish Defence Forces, so there will be no help there in defending the city. That’s why I’m to be handed over into their custody, so that they can kill me, before … well, it’s a bit late to shut me up, isn’t it, but I’m sure that they still see the value in damage control by taking my life as soon as possible.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sunset said. “The siren, yes, I could believe that, but the Valish military? Killing you? You’re the one with the Maiden powers, or with some of the Maiden powers; you’re indispensable to their whole operation; without you, then … without you, then what’s the point?”

“The point,” Cinder replied, “is that the chaos in Vale, probably combined with a grimm attack — although I opposed that — will force the deployment of the students and all other available forces either to manage Vale and or repel an attack on its outskirts,” Cinder said. “Which will leave Beacon empty and the Relic of Choice ripe for the taking.”

“Taking by who?” Sunset demanded. “You say that you opposed a grimm attack, opposed who, is the siren making this plan?”

“Tempest Shadow and Bonnie Bonaventure, Salem’s other agents in Beacon,” Cinder explained.

“Tempest … you mean Trixie’s teammate?” Sunset declared. “And Bon Bon? Bon Bon? Come on, Cinder, we … we’ve sat here, we’ve listened to everything that you have to say, and now … you can’t just pluck names out of thin air; you might as well say that Yang is working with Salem, or Ren and Nora.”

“Either of those three would be more competent than Bon Bon,” Cinder said. “Nevertheless, Bon Bon is who I was stuck with, and Tempest … Tempest was more of a rival than a servant. And now, she is the rival who has displaced me. I have no doubt that she is now in overall command of the Vale operation.”

“But she is not a Maiden,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Even if what you say is true, though we have little reason to believe it, Bon Bon or this Tempest Shadow could not open the vault and retrieve the Relic of Choice, even if they knew where to find it.”

“No,” Cinder said. “But Amber could, and Amber will. She has betrayed you all.”

“Oh, come on!” Sunset yelled, getting up off the table and stomping across the room, turning at the wall before finally rounding on Cinder. “You really … we have done what you asked. We have done everything that you asked, we have heard you out, and now … this!? This, seriously? Are you being serious right now?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” Cinder said.

“Of course we don’t believe you!” Sunset cried. “This is … this is Amber, we’re talking about. You’re asking us to—”

“You are asking us to believe you, our enemy, who has sought our deaths, and sought Amber’s death, and sought the downfall of our school and of Vale itself, against a sweet girl and a dear friend,” Pyrrha said coldly. “Why should we do such a thing? Why should we indulge in such a folly? Have you any proof?”

“Tempest defended her tonight,” Cinder pointed out.

“Perhaps that’s because she saw a deranged woman flying down the street and thought you were up to no good!” Sunset yelled. “Not to mention the fact that for that to constitute any sort of proof, we would first have to accept that Tempest is an agent of Salem, which we do not.”

“You attacked Amber,” Pyrrha said. “You stole half of her magic, you rent her soul and left her for dead; why would you do that to an ally?”

“She wasn’t an ally then,” Cinder said. “I believe—”

“Oh, you believe,” Sunset sneered dismissively.

“Yes, Sunset, I believe it so,” Cinder snapped. “I believe, I am convinced, that Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon — and Sonata too — hatched a plan to cut me out of this operation. They convinced Salem to go along with it, and she, despite her oaths and promises to me, agreed, because she had grown tired of my … my failures, my disobedience, the risks I took like meeting you, Pyrrha, in single combat. They went to Amber, and she, not wanting to die, not wanting to be hunted all her life — do you really expect people to remain loyal to you when you give them nothing but the most awful lives, with no prospect that things will ever improve for them? — agreed to give up the Relic of Choice.”

“That’s a hunch!” Sunset said. “That’s what you think, you can’t know that, you can’t prove any of that.”

“If I did not believe it so, why would I act thus?” Cinder demanded. “Why would I tell you all, why would I make such a spectacle, why would I … why would I make so as to throw my entire life away! Why would I court death in such a way except because I have been betrayed by Salem, and I … and I have nothing now.” A sigh escaped her black lips. “Nothing to fight for, nothing to live for, nothing but … why else would I do this?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “I don’t know, I don’t … I don’t understand you, Cinder! There are times when I think I do, there are times when I think that we are alike, but then there are other times when you do something or say something, and you remind me just how alien we are to one another.” She shook her head, even as she put one hand to her brow. “I … I don’t know. But I do know Amber—”

“And she is so very brave that she would never do this?” Cinder demanded.

“She is so very gentle,” Pyrrha said. “And mild, and good of heart.”

“Gentle-hearted girls get broken by the world in all its cruelty,” Cinder said. “And then … something else remains, something darker.” She sighed again. “I have said my piece. I have told you all. Believe me or not, as you will; do with what I have told you, as you will. Although I would rather that you believed me and acted upon what I said while there is yet time.”

“Why?” Sunset asked.

“Why?” Cinder repeated. “Why, is…” — she laughed — “is it not obvious? It’s because I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: This is another chapter that got a more or less complete rewrite, although the gist of Cinder's backstory remains unchanged, just with some more details added to it, such as describing her childhood as though it happened to someone else. The biggest change otherwise is that Sunset, Ozpin and Pyrrha don't believe everything that Cinder says with regards to Amber etc, because they don't really have a lot of reason to, at this stage.

Keep Calm and Carry On (New)

Keep Calm and Carry On

Lyra had been kicked out of her own room — she was so very obliging — and Dove was with Amber, obviously, and so Bon Bon was free to meet with Tempest.

Tempest was currently sitting on Dove’s bed, watching Bon Bon as she paced up and down the length of the bedroom, hands clenched into fists.

Fists like the one which felt as though it had closed around her stomach, squeezing it until it was in agony. It was all that she could do to keep her back even vaguely straight. A part of her wanted to run to the bathroom; another part of her just wanted to double over in the hope that it would ease the pain.

“We are so dead,” she muttered.

“Calm down,” Tempest replied evenly.

“How can you tell me to calm down when we are so dead?” Bon Bon demanded. “Cinder is going to tell them everything—”

“Calm down.”

“You don’t seem to understand the position that we are in!” Bon Bon cried. “Cinder is going to tell them about us, and then Rainbow Dash is going to kick in that door and come in here—”

“Calm down.”

“We’re going to be shot. We’re going to be imprisoned and then shot. Or we’re going to be hanged from the highest yardarm in the Atlesian navy—”

“I told you to CALM DOWN!” Tempest bellowed, leaping off the bed and striding across the room to grab Bon Bon by the shoulders. Her grip was tight, as tight as the grip of fear on Bon Bon’s stomach and just as painful, as she shook Bon Bon back and forth like a supine tree assailed by a strong wind. “You need to get a grip on yourself,” she declared, punctuating the device by slapping Bon Bon across the face with the back of her hand, hard enough to make Bon Bon’s head snap sideways.

“Ow!” Bon Bon cried.

“We must keep clear and cool heads!” Tempest declared, turning her back on Bon Bon. “We must keep calm and carry on. We must—”

“Keep our stiff upper lips?” Bon Bon suggested, clutching her cheek. “Do you have any idea what you sound like right now?”

“At least I don’t sound like a frightened, mewling infant,” Tempest snapped. She paused for a moment. “I am sorry. We don’t need to fight.”

“Maybe not,” Bon Bon said. “But it might make us feel better before they come to break down the door.”

Tempest snorted, before turning around to face Bon Bon once again. “Things are not as dire for us as your fears make out. So long as we keep our heads and don’t do anything stupid, we will ride out this storm and win through, just as we planned. Yes, the situation is not what we expected, and certainly not what we wanted, but we will win everything nevertheless. This is not even a setback on our road to victory.”

“How can you say that?” demanded Bon Bon. “How can you … do you really believe that? They’ve captured Cinder! And if she has worked out what we are up to, then what makes you think that she isn’t going to tell them everything—?”

“What makes you think that anyone is going to listen to a word that Cinder has to say?” Tempest countered. “She can sing like a nightingale serenading two lovers, and they still won’t want to hear it. What’s she going to tell them? That Amber has betrayed them and is working with us? Who is Ozpin going to trust: his own Fall Maiden, or his enemy who has been nothing but a thorn in his side for a year? Who are Sunset Shimmer and Rainbow Dash and Blake and all the rest going to believe, their friend or their foe? Even if Cinder has worked out everything — and, I admit, she might have — she still has no proof. There is no proof; it’s not like we wrote anything down. All Cinder can do is ask her enemies to take her word for it, and how likely is that?”

Admittedly, Tempest made a good point. A very good point, in fact. Cinder might say a great deal, but she was not the most trustworthy of people, even to her supposed allies. Bon Bon could only imagine how much less trustworthy she seemed to her enemies.

Although I’m one of her enemies now, I guess.

Nevertheless, one thought nagged at her. “I’m not so sure about Sunset. They were close, when Cinder was at Beacon.”

“Hmm,” Tempest murmured. “And they did ally together against Doctor Merlot.”

“They what?”

“Right, of course, you didn’t know anything about that, did you?”

“No, I didn’t, and what do you mean they allied together—?”

“Relax,” Tempest insisted. “It was just a temporary arrangement.”

“One which might have built trust between them,” Bon Bon pointed out. “How long did this alliance last?”

“Only a few days,” Tempest assured her, although Bon Bon didn’t find that length terribly reassuring. A lot could happen in just a few days.

“It would be ideal if Cinder didn’t get the chance to open her mouth,” Tempest admitted, “which is why I have, on behalf of Sonata, asked General Blackthorn to take her into military custody, where Ozpin and Sunset and all the rest won’t be able to listen to a thing she says. However, even if that doesn’t work and they hear her out first, have you seen the way that they flock around Amber? The way that they fawn all over her? They’re not just bodyguards; they’re her friends.” She loaded the word with a double barrel-load of contempt. “They might have seen a less adversarial side of Cinder not too long ago, but if she accuses Amber, sweet Amber, precious Amber, dear Amber—”

“Stop that!” Bon Bon said sharply.

Tempest frowned. “Stop what?”

“All that … that sneering,” Bon Bon said, waving one hand in front of her face. “Amber is sweet, and she is precious, and she is dear. And if you’re right at all, if you have any chance at being right, the only … maybe not the only but the biggest reason why I think you’re right about all this is because Amber is loveable. Even I … I don’t think that she cares for me very much.” Bon Bon’s shoulders slumped. “I guess I can’t blame her for that, knowing who I work for, but … nevertheless, she doesn’t have to like me for me to find her … when I see them together, her and Dove, it … I want to protect that. I want to see that flower blossom freely into something even more beautiful. Everyone does. It’s not charisma, exactly, it’s not like Blake has or Sunset has, people don’t want to follow her, but they do want to keep her safe, not just because they’re being asked to, or because of what she is, but because of who she is.”

“She inspires the protective instinct, you mean?”

“You make it sound so … cold and unloving,” Bon Bon murmured.

“And you make it sound like a mass of verbiage,” Tempest replied. “But I will take your point; a lot of people care for her, including you. But your point bolsters mine; they won’t believe that she means ill, that she has turned on those who only wish to protect her.”

“I think Amber would deny it too,” Bon Bon replied. “She’s trying to protect them.”

“Does she really believe that?” Tempest asked. “Or is that just what she tells herself to sleep at night?”

“I’m not sure how well she sleeps at night,” Bon Bon murmured. “But she believes it. I think that she believes it.” Her eyes narrowed. “She believes it in part because she’s been promised that Team Sapphire will be allowed to live—”

“So long as they don’t interfere in our plans, future or present,” Tempest said. “An easy promise to make, but one which will be kept, nonetheless.” She paused. “What will you do, when this is over?”

“What?” Bon Bon asked, thrown by the change in subject so sudden that it made her head spin. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A calming one,” Tempest murmured. “A focussing one. Focus on what you want, focus on what you’re aiming for. Cinder’s capture is a complication, yes, but one that we can manage. We just need to keep our eye on the prize: the Relic, triumph here at Beacon, all of it within our grasp. We stand on the verge of a golden world. I’m just wondering what that looks like for you.”

Bon Bon didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t have answered immediately even if she’d wanted to. She was … unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted anymore. When she had started, when Doctor Watts had flattered her and ensnared her, then there had been something she wanted, there must have been.

“I wanted to be you.”

Yes. Yes, that had been it, hadn’t it? She had wanted to be Rainbow Dash, or at least, she had wanted to be like Rainbow Dash: someone respected, someone popular, someone powerful.

Stupid, childish, pointless.

But now? Now what? What did she want? What would she do, when all of this was over? What would she get out of this golden world that Tempest told her they were on the verge of? When they won, when they got the Relic of Choice, what then?

Then … then Amber would be safe, and Dove too, but Amber wasn’t likely to want her around, unless Bon Bon had completely misread the looks that Amber was sending her way. She wouldn’t be welcome in their new life, and that was fair enough, honestly. Bon Bon was part of the thing that Amber feared, the thing that she was trying to get away from.

Plus, three was a crowd and all that.

They’ll join their hands in wedding bands, and married, they shall be, Bon Bon thought, as some words from one of Lyra’s old country ballads came to her mind. And they won’t want someone like me hanging around for that.

But maybe … maybe I could find a kind of happiness of my own. Maybe with Lyra, if she’ll come with me. We could do what Amber and Dove will do, just walk off the board. Go somewhere, anywhere, where we don’t have to be a part of all this.

Find a small village somewhere and wait for … for whatever happens at the end of all this. And just live until then.

Just live.

“I think … I think that I might try and see what it’s like to live a peaceful life,” Bon Bon said. “I’m not sure exactly where yet, but not in Vale. Well, not in the city, anyway. Maybe out in the countryside somewhere, north or south of here, or maybe in Anima, some out of the way place where nobody goes. I’ll try my hand at farming or fishing or foraging, or I could use my aura-given strength and become a woodcutter, felling trees with my hands and carrying the logs back home. But something peaceful, somewhere out of the way. Somewhere I’ll bother no one, and no one will bother me.”

She did not mention Lyra to Tempest; she didn’t want to give away that much of herself to the other girl.

Tempest’s eyebrows rose. “That’s it? After all this, after retrieving one of the four Relics, artefacts handed down by the gods themselves, you’re just going to walk away from it all and live in the woods, tearing down trees?”

“I’m going to live a life where I don’t have to look over my shoulder, or remember who I lied to, or what I said,” Bon Bon replied. “I know that I haven’t given much service, but even that little — and you wouldn’t have gotten close to Amber without my help — is enough to earn me the right to be left alone, isn’t it?”

“Everyone has the right to be left alone,” Tempest agreed. “Their rights stop when they decide to deliberately put themselves in harm’s way, in the path of misfortune. Go, if you want to, though you will miss the rewards to come.”

“'To come'?” Bon Bon asked.

“There will be other battles, other wars, other kingdoms and academies to bring down,” Tempest said. “Other relics to retrieve.”

“And you will be there for them,” Bon Bon murmured.

“I will be there for all of them,” Tempest declared, spreading her arms out wide and pirouetting on her toe. “I will lead the assaults on Atlas and Haven, I will bring down Shade—”

“Beacon isn’t enough for you?” Bon Bon asked.

“Beacon doesn’t give me what I want,” Tempest replied.

“And what’s that? Power?”

“In a sense,” Tempest said. “I want…” She paused for a moment, her head dropping forwards a fraction. “I want to stand above Atlas, and look down as everyone who ever spurned me for my arm, everyone who ever looked at me funny, everyone who judged me, everyone who made fun of me, everyone who ever made an inappropriate remark, I want to look down upon them all as they reach out for me and beg for me to save them. And then I’ll turn away, the way that Atlas turned away from me.”

Bon Bon shivered. “Seriously?”

“They have it coming,” Tempest told her. “So much of the world has it coming. Think about it: this whole world, so proud and so mighty, so full of itself and its accomplishments, brought to its knees by a band of outcasts. Doesn’t that sound like something? Doesn’t that sound like something amazing? Of course, that was Cinder’s dream as well, only she was too easily distracted, too willing to let her delusions lead her off course, too prone to chasing dreams of glory instead of the realities of victory and revenge. Well, I’m smarter than she is, I’m more focussed than she is, and I’m twice the outcast and more than she is, so I won’t lose my way. I will be the nemesis that this world deserves, and all these would-be heroes will watch the monuments to wickedness they sought to defend crumble before their eyes.”

“Assuming that you’re not arrested in the next few minutes,” Bon Bon pointed out. “You’re almost certainly right about Amber, but what about us? Will they really be so quick to dismiss what Cinder tells them about us?”

“Why should they suspect us?” Tempest asked. “We’ve done nothing suspicious. I tried to protect Amber from the rampage of the dangerous Cinder Fall.”

“You’re being very blasé about this,” Bon Bon said. “You can’t really be so certain that they won’t act; you can’t know that there is nothing that Cinder might say that will strike a chord with them.”

“No,” Tempest acknowledged. “I don’t know that; I can’t know that. That’s why I have a plan.”

“'A plan'?” Bon Bon repeated. “If you had a plan all along, then why didn’t you say so before you…? I was really worried here!”

“Worried over mostly nothing,” Tempest said.

“'Worried over' … never mind,” Bon Bon muttered. “What is this plan of yours? What are you going to do? Are we going to step up the plan and go tonight?”

“No,” Tempest said. “That’s not possible, not on this short notice.”

“Then what?”

“I’m going to divide our enemies and turn them against one another,” Tempest said. “So that they’ll have no time, no energy, and no inclination to look for any more enemies without.”

Bon Bon frowned. “You’re talking about Vale and Atlas? Or Mistral?”

“I’m talking about Sunset Shimmer,” Tempest said. “And what a bad girl she was under Mountain Glenn. You know that it’s her fault that Sky died?”

Bon Bon blinked, the furrow of her brow grew deeper, as though it had been ploughed anew. “What do you mean? Cinder—”

“It wasn’t Cinder who blew up the mine and caused the Breach,” Tempest said. “It was Sunset.”

“'Sunset'?” Bon Bon repeated. “How, why?”

“Because Cinder had left her a detonator to do it with,” Tempest said. “That’s the how. The why is that her team was trapped down in a tunnel with a horde of grimm on their heels, and she didn’t want them to die. So your teammate died instead, and five others besides. Not to mention a hole blown in the centre of Vale, a great amount of property damage, fear, panic, political upheaval … all in all, that seems like something people would want to know about, doesn’t it? It seems like something that her upright teammates, not to mention Professor Ozpin, might want to know about as well.”

“They don’t know?” Bon Bon asked.

“I don’t think they do,” Tempest said. “I haven’t read their minds, but I don’t think they’d be so nice and friendly with her if they did, do you?”

“No,” Bon Bon murmured. “No, they wouldn’t.”

Forget knocking her tooth out, I should have strangled the life out of her for what she did.

But then, who would punish me for what I did?

No. No, as much as she grieved for Sky, Bon Bon was not so lacking in self-awareness that she could fill herself up with a righteous anger at Sunset Shimmer for what she’d done. Sunset might have set off the mine, but it was Bon Bon who had led her team down into the maelstrom. It was Bon Bon who had colluded with the person who had, regardless of who pressed the detonator switch, stolen all the dust used to make the mine and stored it under Vale ready to blow.

No, Bon Bon didn’t have the right to blame Sunset for this.

But other people? Yes, there were other people who had the right to blame Sunset, absolutely.

“But how are you going to do it?” she asked. “I mean … you don’t have any proof, do you? And in order to expose her, you’d risk yourself being exposed when the accusation was traced back? All Sunset has to do is deny it—”

“Which she will, I’m sure,” Tempest said. “But there will be some who don’t believe her denial, some who think that she’s guilty, maybe even some in her own team. And as a result, she will be under a cloud of suspicion, and suspicion, recrimination, accusations flying of who knew what, who was involved, and why they covered it up.”

“But how?” Bon Bon demanded. “How are you going to do it while keeping your name out of it?”

Tempest smirked. “Did you know that nothing is ever really gone from the CCT network? Even the emails that you deleted because you decided not to send them. They don’t disappear, they just … sink to the bottom and get lost amongst the sediment. Unless you’re a bottom feeder who makes a habit out of looking for that sort of thing. I thought that it might be useful to have something in my back pocket, so I had some of Sonata’s new friends in the military go scouring the depths for anything useful, and lo and behold, they found treasure there amidst the waste. Treasure that, while it might not destroy Sunset Shimmer, will certainly make her life very difficult for a while.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” Bon Bon said. “Except for one thing.”

“One thing?” Tempest repeated. “What one thing, what don’t I have figured out?”

“Amber,” Bon Bon said. “With Cinder in custody, and after the way that Sunset and Pyrrha and the others rescued her … are we sure that she’s still with us? Are we really and truly certain that she isn’t having second thoughts?”

"Have I made a terrible mistake?" asked Amber.

She was in the bathroom, in Team RSPT's bathroom, with Dove.

She didn't care what they thought she and Dove were doing in here together; what mattered was that there was a door between her and Dove on one side and Rainbow Dash, Ciel, Blake, and Twilight on the other side. A door that was shut.

For good measure, she had the shower on, so that the sound of the water would drown out the sound of their voices to anyone listening from outside.

Plus, she liked the way it felt.

Amber was sitting in the shower itself, letting the cold water cascade through her hair, letting it fall through her bangs to drip down onto her face, letting it wash off the makeup that Ciel had so carefully and expertly helped her with, letting it trickle down her scars, like rivers following the ruts carved into the earth.

It was getting into her clothes as well, for which Amber felt a little guilty because they weren't really her clothes; she'd borrowed another of Pyrrha's dresses, the black and green one with the fetching cape — although she hadn't borrowed Pyrrha's bracelets, but still wore her own — and now, the water was soaking through the bodice and the skirt, maybe ruining it for good.

But she hadn't had time to change, and she did like the feeling of the water on her face, her skin, even the way it made the fabric of her bodice feel as it stuck to her.

Dove was in the shower with her; he had worn a suit to the carnival, a turquoise suit like the head of a rock dove, with a light maroon waistcoat and a white shirt with a black bow tie. He had taken the jacket off and draped it around Amber as a sort of extra cape above the green cape she wore, and the water had soaked his white shirt so that it was beginning to turn see-through and expose his chest where the waistcoat wasn't hiding it.

The water was falling down his hair too, matting it to his forehead as it ran in rivulets in front of his eyes.

She didn't think it was the running water that was giving his face that tight, sort of almost cringing expression.

"I think…" He began, before trailing off. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, it does; of course, it does; it matters so much. I love you, Dove, and I … I want to hear what you think. I don't … I'm sorry if you think that I've taken you for granted, I just … please, tell me."

"I never felt that," Dove assured her, as he put one hand around her shoulders. "It's just that this is your magic, your enemies after you—"

"Ozpin's enemies," Amber interrupted. "Not mine. I never wanted any part of this."

Dove nodded. "But, if you want to know what I think … I think you've made a mistake."

Amber nodded. Things … things no longer seemed as certain to her as they had done just a little while ago.

Amber laughed, a little giggle slipping out of her at how absurd it was. "It's funny, isn't it?" she said. "It's funny that … Cinder's gone now. Well, she's not gone, but she will be soon, and … and even now, she can't hurt me anymore, but … I don't feel any less worried; I don't feel safer."

"Because of what you did?" Dove murmured softly and without reproach. "Or because there are more like Cinder out there waiting?"

"Both," Amber murmured, her words barely rising above the pitter-patter of the cold shower water that rained down upon them.

In truth, she didn't really know what she was thinking right now. Perhaps in the past, she had thought too little, but now, it felt as if she thought too much, thoughts whirling around her head, round and round.

When she had fought Cinder, when Cinder and her henchmen had attacked her, and Amber had been left with no choice but to defend herself, she had conjured up a mighty wind, a tornado turning furiously around her, and in those winds, she had swept up all the leaves that lay roundabout and coated them with ice until they were as sharp as daggers. Just so, now, did it feel as though a mighty wind blew about her head and swept up all her thoughts and made them painfully sharp.

They did not just prick her conscience; some of them felt like they were stabbing it.

She had trusted Salem's people. She had trusted that they could keep her safe, and they had … well, the most charitable thing that could be said is that they had tried. The image of Tempest Shadow being swatted aside by Cinder with contemptuous ease was seared into her mind. Had it been Tempest alone on whom she was reliant for her protection, then Amber would be dead. She had trusted them; she had accepted their offer, for all that they asked of her, because she had thought — she had believed — that they could protect her from Cinder.

More fool her, it seemed.

But if the image of Tempest's swift defeat reminded Amber of her foolishness, another image reminded her that … that she was wicked, or that others might call her so.

She was … wicked, or something like it, or thoughtless, or unkind, or all of them, maybe. She was something, and the proof was in the other memory, of the way that everyone had been before Cinder had reached them: Sunset, Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Penny, all of them ready to fight, to fight Cinder with her magic, to fight in Amber's defence.

It was one thing to have Pyrrha vow to her that she would rather die than let Amber come to harm; it was another to see it happen with her own eyes, in spite of all of Amber's entreaties to them.

She had not asked them to fight, to risk death for her, but they had done it anyway.

And they had won, which felt beside the point and yet at the same time very, very much the point.

Amber didn't want them to die. She didn't want them to suffer pain or heartbreak; she didn't want Jaune to be without Pyrrha, or Pyrrha without Jaune, or any of them to be alone, bereft.

But they had won the fight. They had captured Cinder — though Amber had rather they had killed her and been done with it.

They had won. Those that Amber had trusted to protect her had proven themselves feeble; those she had sought to protect had proven themselves to be strong indeed.

It was backwards.

Amber, it seemed, had had it backwards.

And yet…

Salem.

Salem the immortal, Salem the inexorable, Salem the undefeatable, Salem who was the reason, even more than Cinder, why Amber had done as she had done.

Salem was still out there, and would not be proven as feeble as some of her servants had been.

Salem would never stop coveting the Fall Maiden's power, hunting the Fall Maiden, not until she had what she wanted: the Crown of Choice.

All these thoughts besieged her, turned her first one way and then the other, the valour of Team SAPR warring with the danger of Salem which fought in turn against the wretchedness of Tempest Shadow.

"I don't know what to do," Amber said. "I don't know what to think, what to feel, I … maybe I should have been braver, like Sunset and Pyrrha; maybe I should have had more faith in them and told them about Bon Bon when she told me what she was. But even if that's true, isn't it too late now? If I tell them what I've done, then—"

"Then they will forgive you," Dove declared.

Amber laughed softly, a mocking laugh, although she hoped it did not sound cruel in mockery, for cruelty was not her intent. "Just like that? So easily? No, no, that isn't possible, not after what I was ready to do."

“It is,” Dove insisted. “For them. They are … they’re good people, you know that; you know that as well as anyone.”

“'Good' doesn’t mean—”

“It does for them,” Dove said. “You know that too. Look at the way that they’ve taken you into their hearts, welcomed you, welcomed us. Sunset didn’t have to bring us back together, but she did, out of the goodness of her heart. And they all have good hearts. They have … some of the best hearts of any people I’ve ever met.”

Amber nodded, or at least got halfway to nodding before she felt compelled to add, “You said the same about Bon Bon.”

Dove frowned. “I know,” he admitted. “And I was wrong about her. But I’m not wrong about the others, about Team Sapphire. I … I’m not wrong about them. If you go to them, now, or as soon as they get back, or just quickly … or not even quickly, maybe, whenever you do it, if you go to them and confess and say you’re sorry … they’ll forgive you.”

That … that was a wonderful thought. It was a wonderful, beautiful thought. The idea of laying it all before them, like a gift, almost, except a very unwelcome, almost poisoned gift, but nevertheless … the idea of laying it before them and having it accepted. The idea of this burden being lifted off her shoulders, being free of it…

That was what it was all about, wasn’t it? Being free of burdens? She’d wanted to be free of being the Fall Maiden, and now, she wouldn’t mind being free of what she’d done to be free of being the Fall Maiden.

“Don’t worry about it,” said the Sunset in Amber’s head. “We’ve all made mistakes. We just have to learn from them and move on.”

“We understand that you’re afraid,” said Pyrrha, “and fear can drive us to do things that our best selves would not. But it does not make you any less of a good person or our friend.”

“You just wanted to take care of the people you love, right?” asked Jaune.

“So long as you’re sorry, that’s all that matters,” said Ruby.

Ozpin … somehow, Amber couldn’t imagine Ozpin being quite so forgiving.

But there was such hope in Dove’s eyes, such enthusiasm, it was making him smile, making his face light up. The look of it, so much more pleasant, so much lovelier than his wincing look of earlier, made Amber smile a little too.

“You never liked this, did you?” Amber asked him. “You never liked … what I was going to do?”

“No,” Dove admitted. “I understand why you did it, but … if we could find a way back, if we could go back to the light, then I … I would feel a lot better.”

Amber leaned against him, throwing her arms around him. “Don’t forsake me, Dove,” she whispered, as the cold water fell upon them. “Please.”

“Never,” Dove whispered in return, kissing her on top of the head as he put one arm around you. “I swore that I wouldn’t leave you, and I don’t mean to break my word. I lost you once, I won’t do it again, I’m by your side, but—”

“But you wish that my side would be the right side,” Amber murmured. “The side of Sunset and Pyrrha and the others, the side of Ozpin—”

“The huntsman side, yes,” Dove said. “Perhaps I should have said something before, but I wasn’t sure…”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I will always listen to you.”

“Listen to your own heart,” Dove urged. “You know that … they’ll forgive you. They’ll all forgive you everything, so long as you come clean, but if you wait, and if you go through with this plan, however good your intentions are, they won’t forgive that; you know it.”

Amber frowned. That wasn’t something she really wanted to think about.

Because he was right, and she knew that too.

“And you know,” Dove said, “after tonight, I really believe that they can protect you better than any promise from Bon Bon or Tempest or whoever it is they work for.”

Amber didn’t reply. On that … she both agreed and did not agree. Dove might be right, probably was, in the small scale, but on the grand scale? On the grand scale, nothing had changed.

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” Dove said. “But I won’t pretend to be neutral when it comes to the choice you make.”

“I … I don’t know,” Amber said. “I really don’t know.”

Who can protect me? Who can I trust?

I want to be safe and free.

But who can give it to me?

Can Team SAPR win all the battles? Can they fight every enemy?

If I give the crown to Salem, then it is done, and so am I. But… what if it isn’t?

What do I do?

What should I do?

“I don’t know,” Amber said again. “But I’ll think about it, Dove, I promise I will. I’ll think about it, and … and I’ll decide. Tonight, I’ll decide … if I dare tell them everything that I was going to do.”

Protest Too Much (New)

Protest Too Much

With Professor Ozpin gone to question Cinder, and Sunset and Pyrrha gone to manhandle Cinder down to where she could be interrogated, everyone else was left waiting.

Ruby got the impression that there was no one it wasn't a little bit awkward for.

Certainly, it felt awkward for her, and from the looks on Jaune's and Penny's faces, it was a little bit awkward for them too.

It wasn't the adults’ faults that they were here, Ruby understood that they'd wanted to see for themselves that Cinder really had been taken into custody — although she was less sure why they all wanted to stick around here now — but it was making things kind of awkward. It was hard to talk to Jaune and Penny with Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, or the First Councillor of Vale all standing so close by, casting their shadows over them.

As it was, Ruby found her thoughts turning inwards. Professor Ozpin hadn't said so — yet — but she was starting to doubt that Amber would be coming with her and Yang to Patch. Professor Ozpin had decided to send her there because Cinder was on the prowl, and, well, she wasn't on the prowl anymore, was she?

Just as she wasn't looking so smug and superior anymore, with that stupid smile on her face like she knew some big secret.

But more importantly than Ruby's own sense of smugness at the downfall of someone who would have irritated her even if she hadn't been evil was the fact that Professor Ozpin's emergency plan to safeguard Amber was no longer necessary.

That was a bit of a pity for Ruby, since it would have been cool having a house guest, someone to show around Patch, someone who would have enjoyed the woods and the wilds and the view from the cliffs, but at the same time, it was pretty good, really good, for Amber, and that was what really mattered.

Amber could … she couldn't quite do what she liked. Pyrrha thought that Amber would be able to visit Mistral or Atlas, and maybe she would, but privately, Ruby had some doubts. She was still the Fall Maiden, after all, and if Cinder had known who she was, then there was nothing stopping Salem from sending others after her.

If she had any others to send. She might not, Pyrrha seemed to think that she didn't, Sunset seemed willing to accept that she didn't, and even Professor Ozpin seemed to agree that it would take Salem a while to move on from this, to find someone else to smirk like they knew things you didn't and talk like they were smarter than you and go around like they were so high and mighty when really…

Anyway, the point was … maybe they were right. Maybe Salem didn't have any substitutes lined up. Or maybe it would be Emerald trying to end the world next week, and Pyrrha and Sunset and even Professor Ozpin were all just engaged in wishful thinking because they wanted it to be done, or if not done, then at least put on hold for a little while. They wanted to believe that they had put a period on something.

Ruby wanted to believe that too; it would have been great to be able to believe it.

She just couldn't be certain.

It did make sense, she supposed. If you were never going to die, then you had all the time in the world to think things through, and if they still didn't work out, then there was nothing to stop you from taking a little time to work out what went wrong and what could you do better next time.

Maybe choose a right-hand woman who isn't so full of herself next time.

But, if the Maidens were usually kept secret, their identities hidden, then it would also make sense to strike while you knew who the Fall Maiden was in the hope that you could get the powers before Amber died and there was a new Fall Maiden whose name you didn't know.

All of that being said, Pyrrha had been prepared to take Amber to Mistral even before they caught Cinder, so … perhaps that wouldn't bother her even if Ruby brought it up.

She just didn't want Amber to have to hide and get shut away for her own safety.

Ruby could get that. It didn't sound like much of a life, and she knew better than some that restrictions weren't made easier to bear by being placed on you by someone who meant well and thought they were doing the right thing.

But the risk…

Ruby didn't know. They had won tonight, after all. Pyrrha was absolutely right: they had won, no buts, no drawbacks, no qualifications; they had won.

However long or short it lasted, this triumph could not be taken away from them.

She just wasn't sure how long it would last.

And she really wished that she could have talked to the others instead of being stuck in her own head like this.

Ruby supposed, while she was stuck with her thoughts like this, that the important thing was … was what was important. Important to you, or important to everyone, just generally.

Like, Pyrrha had decided that she was going to take Amber to Mistral, even before they'd gotten Cinder, way before, because Amber wanted to go, and Pyrrha had decided that Amber's happiness was more important to her than Professor Ozpin's desire to keep everything hush hush.

And Ruby … Ruby could appreciate a blow struck for freedom of the individual, and as she had said to Sunset at the time, if you were going to have a principle like that, then you couldn't quibble when it came to following through.

So let Amber visit Mistral. They'd all go — go back, in the case of Jaune, Sunset, and Ruby herself — to Mistral.

But they owed it to Amber as well as to themselves to be prepared for the possibility of trouble once they got there.

But what about it? They'd just proven, with extra emphasis and the seal of undeniable success, that they were prepared to deal with trouble. And you couldn't stuff people away in the dark just because it was more convenient for you.

You could do almost anything you wanted, provided you were prepared to face the consequences, and provided you didn't hurt anyone else in the process.

So if Amber wanted to see the world, they would show her the world and guard her while she saw it. And then…

Then Amber would have to go back into the dark because Team SAPR couldn't protect her forever.

They'd have next year's classes, for one thing.

Not to mention, as much as Ruby liked Amber, she didn't want to devote her whole life to the Fall Maiden's protection.

Not to mention, how likely was it that Amber was going to want them around for the rest of her life? Eventually, she and Dove would want some alone time.

And then she would want as many aunts and uncles around as she could get, the way Uncle Qrow was always coming over when Ruby and Yang were little.

Well, not exactly like that, because Amber wouldn't be gone, and neither would Dove, and there wouldn't be another woman … or another man. But the point was, she'd probably want some help once they got to that point.

Ruby's memories of those days were a little fuzzy, but the implication that she and Yang had been a bit of a handful had been more than confirmed by Uncle Qrow's stories from that time.

Did that all make sense? Ruby hoped that it made sense, but it might not. It felt … it felt like it was three in the morning, and she was awake with only thoughts that might or might not be sensible for company.

Except she didn't feel dehydrated.

General Ironwood broke the silence, for which Ruby was very thankful. He clasped his hands together behind his back as he said, “Mister Councillor, General Blackthorn, since we’re all here, I wonder if I might have a word with you regarding the gathering grimm concentrations—”

“'Grimm concentrations'?” Ruby asked, her ears pricking up — not literally, although Ruby sometimes thought it might be pretty cool to have ears that pricked up like Sunset or Blake — at the mention of such a thing. “Where?”

General Blackthorn said, “Nothing that a child—”

“The grimm are massing beyond Vale,” General Ironwood interrupted. “Aerial reconnaissance shows that their numbers are growing; at present, they are holding their positions, but more grimm have been mustering all day, and the day before when we really began to notice it. Even if Miss Rose were a child, a child would know that such things can’t be ignored.”

“Where are they coming from?” asked Jaune. “I mean, after the Breach, I thought that most of the grimm … I thought they were weakened?”

“Not all of the grimm in the southeast took part in the Breach,” Professor Goodwitch reminded them. “As I believe you found on your second trip to Mountain Glenn recently. In particular, I believe — and no doubt Doctor Oobleck would agree with me, if he were here — that the older grimm, wiser and more experienced, would have been reluctant to take part in a direct assault against one of the kingdoms thus. Grimm who survive that long tend to know better than to hurl themselves against mankind’s defences.”

Jaune frowned. “I know that Mountain Glenn wasn’t empty when we were there, but it was a lot emptier than it had been, and a lot of grimm did go down the tunnel after us. And besides, if what you’re saying is right, wouldn’t the old grimm who don’t want to risk a direct assault hang back from this as well?”

“One can hope,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Grimm are still, however old and experienced they become, creatures of instinct, and sometimes, those instincts cannot be resisted. Sometimes, forces stronger than the caution of age compel them to act.” She paused. “But I don’t know what General Ironwood’s pilots have been telling him. Reports of the gathering grimm have been so scarce and well-concealed that my information is very limited.”

“There are grimm coming up from the southeast,” General Ironwood confirmed, “but in limited numbers, confirming your belief that the majority of grimm in that region were either wiped out in the Breach, or else, as Professor Goodwitch says, they’re too canny to run straight towards our guns. From what we’ve observed, the southeastern concentration is the weakest of the grimm forces—”

“'Forces'?” Penny repeated. “You mean it’s not just one group?”

General Ironwood shook his head. “At first, there were several smaller groups, seven in total. Some of those groups have now merged, but we can still observe four groups: three around Vale, one that came up from the southeast, one due directly east between Vale and the mountains, and one to the northeast; there is also a fourth group coming down directly from the north, but whether it will turn aside to join the northeastern group or remain independent, I can’t say.”

“You talk about them as though they were an army,” Colonel Sky Beak observed. “As though they have a commander pondering whether to have four slightly weaker assault columns or to use their reserve to reinforce the three units they already have in position.”

“I’m not sure about that,” General Ironwood said, “but in some ways, they are an army, and although they may not have a general and his officers pondering that choice, in some way, that choice will be made, and there will be reasons why it was made. They may not look like us, they may be more instinctive than we are, but in many ways, they are an army, an army equally capable of wielding the subtle knife or the blunt hammer, depending on the circumstances.”

An army under the control of Salem? Ruby wondered. How much control over the grimm does she really have? Is she the one who will make the choice about the northern grimm?

Is this because she’s angry that we captured Cinder?

No, no way, the grimm have been gathering before that, General Ironwood just said so.

Then … was Cinder supposed to do something, with the grimm, and maybe now that we’ve captured her, the plan has been spoiled?

So what will the grimm do now?

Unfortunately, it looks like Salem isn’t ready to step back and lick her wounds just yet.

“But where are so many grimm coming from?” asked Penny.

“It appears, although we need more confirmation and observation to be certain, that they are pulling out from the villages that they’ve been passively threatening for some time, and moving to Vale instead,” General Ironwood said. “At least three huntsmen providing security for rural settlements have reported that the grimm are gone; I’m sure if we asked, we’d get more such reports.”

“So they’re leaving the countryside and heading here instead?” Jaune asked. “What are they going to do, are they going to attack again?”

“It doesn’t matter what they’re going to do,” Ruby declared. “What matters is what we’re going to do about them.” Her silver eyes flickered between General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch. “What are we going to do?”

“I was just about to ask the First Councillor if he would reconsider granting permission to commence an aerial bombardment of the grimm,” General Ironwood said. “I know that you’re worried about causing panic, but even leaving aside the fact that engagement with distant grimm will be far less panicking than another attack on Vale, the boost to public morale provided by the news of Cinder Fall’s capture will surely outweigh any negativity caused by the sounds of my bombs dropping.”

“Are you sure that you don’t just want to drop bombs before you go home so that you can say that you accomplished something, General Ironwood?” asked General Blackthorn.

“My forces already accomplished something when they saved Vale during the Breach,” General Ironwood replied blandly, “although I would like to make sure that Vale was still safe before my fleet returns to Atlas.”

“Vale is safe,” General Blackthorn insisted. “Are the grimm moving towards Vale?”

“They have moved towards Vale,” General Ironwood pointed out. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.”

“But they’re not getting any closer now, are they?” demanded General Blackthorn.

“No,” General Ironwood admitted. “They’re holding their positions as they are continually reinforced, which Colonel Sky Beak may recognise as the tactics of an army maximising its advantages before—”

“As you said yourself, General Ironwood, they are not moving!” General Blackthorn snapped.

“So do you think they’re just going to sit there forever?” Ruby demanded. “Or decide to turn around and go home? Why would so many grimm come together around Vale like that except because they were going to attack? And even if they don’t attack, with so many grimm around the city, how is anyone or anything going to reach Vale by land? No one will dare risk it. They’ll cut the roads, and maybe even the railway line. And that will cause panic, and that will draw even more grimm.” She ignored General Blackthorn, who seemed like a complete idiot, and focussed her attention on Councillor Emerald. She took a step forward. “I understand that you’re worried that the sounds of a battle might scare people, but it’s like General Ironwood said: some things are scarier than the sounds of a battle, and those scary things will come to Vale unless something is done now. It may not seem like it, but now is the time to defend Vale, not when the grimm decide that they’re ready.”

General Blackthorn scowled, but didn’t say anything.

Councillor Emerald, meanwhile, adjusted the fit of his dark green jacket, although it had looked fine before, so Ruby thought that maybe he just wanted something to do with his hands for a second.

“No doubt General Blackthorn will rebuke me for allowing a girl of your years to sway my opinions, Miss Rose,” he murmured, a touch of amusement creeping into his voice like one of the grimm creeping towards Vale, “but I think there is some force in what you say. Of course, I’m not an expert on the behaviour of the creatures of grimm.” He looked over Ruby’s head towards Professor Goodwitch. “Professor, as a more experienced huntress than Miss Rose, perhaps you have some insights to share on what we might expect from these monsters?”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. “With no disrespect intended to Miss Rose, I have known grimm to approach a settlement without attacking; they changed course before coming into contact with the defences. I think they wanted to make us sweat a little, but at the same time knew that they were not strong enough to overrun the settlement itself. However, I have never seen such behaviour with a horde, only with more modest groups of grimm.” She looked at General Ironwood. “Are we talking about a horde, general?”

“It’s looking that way,” General Ironwood replied. “I’d put it at Class … Three, maybe Four. By tomorrow morning, it might be a Five; their numbers are rising all the time.”

“In that case, I would be very surprised if they moved off,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Where would they go? If they meant to go anywhere but Vale, they would hardly have come to Vale, and with grimm coming in from all directions, it would be strange if any of them turned back the way they had come.”

“I see,” Councillor Emerald murmured. “So … what would you advise that I do about this situation?”

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. “Professor Ozpin is the headmaster of Beacon, and sits on the Council; he should advise you, Mister Councillor.”

“Perhaps, but since he isn’t here at the moment, perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me the benefit of your thoughts,” Councillor Emerald pressed.

Professor Goodwitch said, “Attacking the grimm risks provoking them to attack in return — you cannot simply expect them to hold still under bombardment — but that, in itself, might prove to be a blessing, if they attack before they have gathered their full strength.”

Councillor Emerald nodded. “So you think that I should allow General Ironwood to attack?”

Professor Goodwitch paused a moment before she said, “Yes, Mister Councillor, I think that might be for the best.”

“I see,” Councillor Emerald murmured. “Thank you for your advice, Professor, but I have other ideas.”

“But—” Ruby began.

“What I propose,” Councillor Emerald went on, “is that if these grimm are moving away from the outlying settlements to come here, then we must in turn recall all the huntsmen who went out to those settlements to protect them in the first place. We will stuff their mouths with lien to bring them here, if need be, and carpet the job board so thick with ‘come to Vale’ postings that no other work will get a look in. And then, once the Vytal Festival is over, and the Atlesians and all our other guests have departed for home, then we will unleash our Valish strength upon the grimm. The huntsmen that we have hired in bulk will spearhead the attack, with the Valish Defence Forces and our new warships for which we have paid so handsomely in support. General Blackthorn, please begin drawing up plans of attack immediately.”

General Blackthorn drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Yes, Mister Councillor, as soon as Cinder Fall has been safely taken into custody.”

“And now, Miss Rose,” Councillor Emerald said, smiling down at her, “I believe you were about to be outraged.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Well … I guess it doesn’t matter now,” she admitted. Truthfully, she felt like this whole ‘Valish, not Atlesian’ thing was kind of stupid — they were all people, and they were all fighting together against the grimm, after all — but, apart from that … it wasn’t a bad plan. Yeah, it meant waiting for all the huntsmen to show up, which might take a few days, but having them around would be great, and they’d be way better at fighting the grimm than General Ironwood’s soldiers, so, yeah, why not? It all sounded like a pretty good idea to her. “I know it doesn’t matter, but … thank you for doing the right thing.”

“It is what politicians strive to do, as much as it might seem otherwise,” Councillor Emerald replied.

“And we can help too,” Ruby added. “My team and I, I mean; we’d be glad to join the push, wouldn’t we?”

“I’m sure that Professor Ozpin would be amenable to some training missions in support of this hypothetical offensive,” Professor Goodwitch said. “For experienced and exceptional teams.”

“Well,” Councillor Emerald said, “I’m sure that—” He stopped, interrupted by a buzzing coming from his breast pocket. “Excuse me a moment; this might be important.” He turned away, putting one hand into his trouser pocket as, with the other, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his scroll. As he walked away from the wider group, he opened up the scroll one-handed.

He hesitated a moment, looking down at his scroll, before he pushed a button and then put the device to his ear.

“Novo,” he said, “I’m a little surprised you’re still—” He stopped abruptly. “Novo? Skystar what?”

Ruby frowned. Skystar? Was she in trouble?

“The press?” Councillor Emerald said. “But how did they—?”

“Excuse me, viewers, just one moment.”

The voice of Lisa Lavender, issuing out of screens mounted on the corners of the squadroom, drew Ruby’s attention. It had always been on, a late night news broadcast, including the news that they had captured Cinder Fall, but because it had either been stuff that Ruby knew — like today’s Vytal fight results or the fact that they had captured Cinder — or hadn’t been interested in — like Countess Coloratura’s troubles with her management — she hadn’t really paid it much attention. But … maybe it was because Councillor Emerald had mentioned the news, or maybe it was just because Lisa Lavender’s words hinted at something surprising to come, but either way, it caught Ruby’s attention in a way that the rest of the programme hadn’t.

Judging by the way that he let his hand fall to his side, still holding his scroll, and turned towards the nearest TV screen, Councillor Emerald felt the same way.

Lisa Lavender had her head down. She had just been passed a note by someone in the studio, and she appeared to be reading it with intense concentration.

She kept her face still, she didn’t frown or scowl — or smile, either — she was acting a lot like Cinder had been acting before Sunset and Pyrrha took her away, she was wearing a mask over her face just like them, so that you couldn’t make out what was going on underneath.

She raised her head, and her face was still as expressionless as ever, though her voice was grave.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for that, but I have just been made aware of a late-breaking news story,” she said. “Only minutes ago, this studio, along with other reputable news outlets, received, from an anonymous source, an email, addressed to us and to our fellow news outlets, written by the Amity Princess Skystar Aris but later deleted without being sent. This email, recovered and sent to us by someone who, in their own words, felt that the public have a right to know, accuses student huntress Sunset Shimmer of having caused the Breach and, thus, the deaths of six people, by detonating the mine in the tunnel underneath the city, creating the hole through which the grimm emerged.

“What?!” Penny cried. “What are they … why would anyone say something like that?”

“Sunset Shimmer, a student at Beacon Academy,” Lisa Lavender went on, as Sunset’s portrait appeared on the screen behind her, her smirk seeming obscenely inappropriate in light of what she was being accused of, “will probably be familiar to viewers as a contestant in the first two rounds of the Vytal Tournament. Miss Shimmer is the leader of Beacon Academy’s Team Sapphire, which has gained a reputation in certain circles for being unusually active for first year students. Their achievements include the foiling of a major dust robbery at the docks, the capture of the wanted criminal Roman Torchwick, being present at the defence of the Breach and, as we were reporting on only tonight, the defeat and capture of the anarchist Cinder Fall as she attempted a terrorist attack at tonight’s Vytal Carnival.

“The Breach is the name given to the incident in which an explosion originating in the abandoned subway tunnel linking Vale to the ruined city of Mountain Glenn allowed grimm to emerge into Lost Valley Square. Six people lost their lives in the incident. It is now alleged that Sunset Shimmer caused that explosion.”

“That’s insane!” Jaune said. “It was Cinder who did that, Cinder who blew the mine, Sunset … why would Sunset … why would Skystar just make this up?”

“And why would anyone believe her?” added Penny.

“According to the account delivered to us, Amity Princess Skystar Aris was present when Sunset Shimmer confessed the truth to First Councillor Aspen Emerald, then Councillor for the Interior, and former, then current, First Councillor Novo Aris. This was on the night of Novo Aris’ resignation as First Councillor, and we have confirmed from eye-witnesses that Sunset Shimmer did visit the First Councillor’s official residence that night.”

“But that doesn’t prove anything!” Jaune said. “I mean, just because Sunset was there doesn’t mean that she said … that! Why would Sunset confess to something that she didn’t do?”

“Why indeed?” General Blackthorn asked, an ugly smile upon his face. “Or we might ask why Skystar Aris would make up such a lie? Mightn’t we, Mister Councillor?”

Councillor Emerald’s chest rose and fell. His face had gone pale, but his voice carried sharply as he turned to face the general. “I don’t think I care for your tone, General,” he declared. “I don’t appreciate snide insinuations based on—”

“According to Miss Aris’ testimony, Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Novo agreed to keep the truth a secret. As yet, no other evidence has been produced to substantiate these allegations,” Lisa Lavender went on.

“Baseless allegations!” Councillor Emerald declared, pointing at the television. He looked around the room, prompting Ruby to do likewise: the eyes of all the police officers present were either upon the televisions, or upon the First Councillor, or upon the remaining members of Team SAPR.

Their looks were wary, suspicious, in some cases, downright hostile.

Ruby could understand why. If the allegations were true…

If the allegations against Sunset were true.

If the allegations against Sunset that Jaune and Penny had just dismissed out of hand were true.

“Nevertheless, that was not the last time that Sunset Shimmer has been observed visiting the First Councillor’s residence,” Lisa Lavender went on.

“It isn’t?” Jaune asked. “When did Sunset—?”

Councillor Emerald raised his voice. It carried across the squadroom. “Quite frankly, I am disgusted at the low journalistic standards being displayed by our press tonight; I had thought that Lisa Lavender at least was above this sort of thing, which would shame the lowest gutter tabloid on the market. An email, an email that was never sent by its so-called author, but which we are asked to take on faith despite the sender being anonymous, despite the fact that the author deleted it without showing it to anyone … can anyone find any of this remotely credible, even before we get into the story itself?

“I am not only the First Councillor of Vale; I am also a patriot. I love this kingdom, this kingdom that welcomed my grandparents when they fled out of slavery in Mantle, this kingdom that has given me the opportunity to rise to become its leading representative and its chiefest servant. Yes, servant. I have always served Vale with all my heart, and I would not — I would never — participate in a cover-up of this nature. If I knew of such a crime as was suggested just now, I would not hesitate for one second to drag it into the light!”

“And Sunset would never do something like that either!” Penny cried.

“No, no she wouldn’t,” Jaune said. “Sunset … Sunset wouldn’t … that’s not her.”

Isn’t it? Ruby thought, and felt a little dirty for the thinking.

It felt wrong to think it. It felt wrong to doubt Sunset, to consider that these allegations might be true, but…

Well, she did.

It would have been nice, it would have been great, it would have been wonderful to have been able to be like Jaune and Penny and just denied it, just heard it and immediately gone ‘no, Sunset would never.’ It would have been nice to have that much faith in her, to have thought that highly of her.

Maybe that’s how you were supposed to think of your team leader.

But Ruby … Ruby liked Sunset, most of the time, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but think about all the things that Sunset had said, and all the things that Sunset had done, and the people that Sunset cared about, and the people that she didn’t.

She couldn’t help but remember how Sunset had looked ill when they boarded the train heading down that tunnel, how she hadn’t wanted to go and had practically had to be bullied by the others into doing it.

Ruby couldn’t help but remember that Sunset had been all alone at the front of the train when the mine blew up; she’d gone on ahead to try and stop the train.

Ruby couldn’t help but remember that if the mine hadn’t blown up, then they would — probably, most likely — all have died down in that tunnel, died fighting the grimm, died fighting like true huntsmen and huntresses, died doing their part to keep Vale safe.

But Ruby couldn’t help but remember that Sunset never showed much appetite for dying, under any circumstances.

Ruby couldn’t help but remember all that, and so as much as she would have liked to have been able to believe in Sunset the way that Jaune and Penny could, instead…

Instead, Ruby found that she could believe in the allegations.

She could believe in them very easily indeed.

Is it true, Sunset? Is it true that you did this?

Did you really do what they’re saying you did?

Were you really just a monster all along, and we never saw it?

Cinder was walking now. In fact, she was walking with as broad a step as the shackles on her ankles would allow her, no shambling, shuffling gait, but a proud stride as though she were on her way, not to be taken away to prison, but to an appointment that she had been looking forward to and anxiously desired.

Her back was straight, her head was up, and she affected not to notice Sunset or Pyrrha, who yet held her by the arms — not that they needed to drag her or lead her on; if anything, it was they who were restraining Cinder at times.

She did not look a captive, other than the shackles and the fact that she was bound between … alright, yes, she did look a captive, but she did not look … she did not look as one might expect a captive to look. There was no trace of shame, no trace of defeat, there was no sense in her bearing, in the expression on her face, in her posture or her motions, that this was something that she did not desire or even welcome.

Perhaps she did welcome it; after all, the reverses that she had suffered did make her long for the release of death, but Sunset doubted it. Rather, she thought that this was another act that Cinder was putting on, another mask she wore, another show — for Sunset, for Pyrrha, even for Professor Ozpin, and eventually, for everyone else who might see her as well.

Equestria did not have a tradition of conduct going to the gallows, for the simple reason that they did not have gallows at all, or any other means of executing prisoners. Amongst ponies, to punish your enemies at all was seen as very gauche indeed, the behaviour of a less advanced, more barbarous race like dragons or griffons. Amongst ponykind, amongst sophisticated, civilised folk, it was the height of the aforementioned sophistication and civilisation to forgive those who wronged you, and even if they had done things too great to be forgiven, done wrongs that could not be dismissed with the wave of a hoof, then you shuffled them off to some far away place and forgot about them.

Sunset had sometimes wondered where she got her touch of the barbarian from; she had even contemplated the possibility that she might have some dragon blood in her, although Princess Celestia had told her that was impossible. The more unwelcome possibility was that ponies were not as civilised and sophisticated as they liked to think, and that in the absence of their cosy Equestrian lives and magical comforts, they could become as violent and bloodthirsty as the wildest of dragons.

No, no, that couldn’t be it; that fault was in Sunset herself, not in her kind.

In any event, the point was that the Equestrians had no tradition of how one was supposed to bear up in the face of impending death, or at least not in the face of impending public execution, and so, Sunset had been surprised to find out, on arriving in Remnant, that in this world, there was just such a tradition.

It hadn’t been quite as surprising that there was still such a thing as a public execution, but in any case, it had still been somewhat surprising to learn that the very same people whom kingdoms and citizens had condemned to be put to death were admired for the manner in which they met it.

After the Great War, when the last King of Vale had laid aside his crown, a relative of his — not one of Jaune’s ancestors, but a closer cousin to the royal family, a branch that had been snipped away to pave the way for the primacy of the Arc claim — had claimed the throne and sharked up a list of lawless resolutes to press it by force. He had been defeated, captured, and sentenced to death. And then, when he had gone to the gallows to be hanged, he was said to have borne himself so nobly, and given such a fine speech, that many of those watching had been swayed to his side and wished that they had flocked to his banner while there was still time.

The authorities had hanged him quickly to prevent a riot.

And this a man who had tried to overthrow the democracy, and yes, democracy was a wretched system that empowered the very worst sorts, but the Valish seemed rather pleased with it on the whole and did not cry out for the return of the autocratic monarchy, even though that return would be in their own best interests.

They did not cry out for it, that is, until its representative was about to die and given the opportunity to spin a few pretty words before he died.

Unless Sunset was very much mistaken, and she doubted that she was on this occasion, Cinder was attempting to stand in the same line; she wished to go, or to be seen to go, to her death as nobly and as proud as a princess, and with a grace and bearing that would make all who had opposed her regret they had not been her servants. She probably had a speech prepared.

All this, in spite of the fact that she was not, in fact, going straight away to her execution, but only into confinement.

Although it might be the death of her nonetheless if Cinder spoke true.

If Cinder spoke true.

None of them spoke about it; on their way back from the cell, neither Sunset nor Pyrrha nor even Professor Ozpin said a word about all the things that had passed between Cinder’s black-painted lips, and most especially, they did not talk about her laundry list of accusations of those who had embraced the cause of Salem.

Professor Lionheart, Tempest Shadow, Bon Bon, Amber. Amber. Amber most of all.

Sunset did not believe that. Sunset could not believe that. She could believe it of Professor Lionheart, by simple virtue of not knowing him and not caring whether he turned out to be a villain or not — Professor Ozpin might have a harder time of it — Bon Bon was a little strange to even think about, Tempest Shadow was another one Sunset had no opinion on except to note that she was one of Trixie’s teammates, but Amber? Amber?

Their Amber? Sweet Amber, lovely Amber, romantic Amber, fragile Amber? No. No, there was no way; she did not have the temperament to do such a thing, nor even to attempt it? Amber a traitor? Amber, a servant of evil? No. No, no, no, it was impossible. If Cinder had wanted to be halfway convincing, she should have named someone who had, in the nicest possible way, greater reserves of courage and fortitude, not to mention someone who could stand to see others hurt.

One or the other, at the very least. Amber had none.

The accusation was so supremely unconvincing that just about the only thing it had going for it was the argument that it was ridiculous that why would Cinder make it up instead of a more convincing alternative?

No, there were definitely parts of Cinder’s account that Sunset did not believe, just as she did not believe for one minute that Pyrrha or Professor Ozpin believed a word of them either.

But there were other parts of what Cinder had said that Sunset could believe, most particularly the bit about the siren. Pyrrha and Professor Ozpin — and the others, when they heard it — might not get it as instinctually as Sunset did because the idea of a siren was alien to them, but to Sunset … to Sunset, it all fit perfectly. So perfectly that she was mentally kicking herself for not having thought about it before — the only excuse she could make for herself was that she hadn’t expected them to be in Remnant.

Although I probably should have expected that too, all things considered.

Starswirl the Bearded may have been the greatest mage in his day, but he was not very considerate, and he has much to answer for.

Regardless of that, the point was that Sunset could well believe, could perfectly believe, that there was a siren in Vale, stirring up discord against Atlesians and faunus alike, and that she had some part to play in the plans that Cinder had devised and that … someone, not Amber, but someone, Tempest Shadow perhaps, or maybe the siren herself, would carry forward.

They needed to find her. They needed to find her quickly. Sunset would need to convince the others of the urgency of it — and of the need to wear earplugs.

She would need to convince Professor Ozpin that this one part of Cinder’s story, at the least, was worth taking seriously.

It seemed to be getting chillier in here, for some reason.

Or perhaps it wasn’t actually getting colder; perhaps it was just the looks that the cops were giving them as they led Cinder into the squadroom.

No, not them, her. Sunset thought at first that they were looking at Cinder, but no, they were looking at Sunset herself. She didn’t know why they were looking at her like that, but they were looking at her with hard eyes, with the looks of those who had just spotted a serpent slithering in their garden, with tight mouths, scowls crinkling their faces.

With hands that were twitching as though they wished to knot them into fists.

It was enough to make Sunset frown herself. What had she done?

They were approaching the others: Ruby, Jaune, Penny, General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch, Councillor Emerald, General Blackthorn and Colonel Sky Beak. The Valish officers, with their soldiers behind them, were standing facing Ruby, Jaune, and Penny, with Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood standing just a little behind them.

Councillor Emerald stood in between the groups, like a man caught between a rock and a hard place.

What was going on?

“Is something wrong?” Pyrrha asked as they drew near.

It was as though they had suddenly realised that they were there; perhaps they had only just realised that they were there, and they had been too distracted up until then by whatever else was going on. Whatever was the case, alerted by the sound of Pyrrha’s voice, they turned to them.

They turned to Sunset.

Everyone was looking at her. Even Jaune, who could normally be relied upon to look at Pyrrha first, looked at Sunset first, and his eyes lingered there.

Eyes that were wide; Jaune and Penny were both looking at her like they were frightened of something, eyes wide and mouths open; Professor Goodwitch’s eyes were narrow behind her spectacles; General Ironwood’s brow was furrowed.

Ruby was … Ruby was staring at her intently; her eyes were wide too, but without the open mouth of Jaune or Penny; no, her mouth was a hard line, turned slightly downwards at the corners.

Her hands were shaking.

“Sunset,” Penny said. “They … they’re saying—”

“A reminder of our breaking news story,” Lisa Lavender said, her voice issuing out of the screens mounted in the corners, issuing out from all four corners of the room to surround Sunset. “Amity Princess Skystar Aris has accused Sunset Shimmer of causing the Breach, and First Councillor Aspen Emerald and former First Councillor Novo Aris of covering up this fact.”

Now it was the turn of Sunset’s eyes to widen, to widen like saucers as she stared up at one of the television screens and at the images of Sunset and Skystar that now flashed up on either side of Lisa Lavender.

They both looked inappropriately happy; the smirk on Sunset’s face would have looked inappropriate in almost any circumstances, but neither it nor Skystar’s happier, less satisfied beam of joy seemed appropriate in the context.

Skystar? Why would you … and why now?

“This information was obtained from a deleted email written by Miss Aris and sent to various news outlets by an anonymous source.”

Sunset’s mouth opened. It hung there for a moment. This was … this was … this was the work of…

Cinder was right. There is someone still out there. And they have done this.

They’ve done this because they want people to be looking at me, instead of for them.

I think it’s working.

Everyone was staring at her, except for Pyrrha and Cinder, who were — being as new to the situation as Sunset was — staring at the television.

What do you have to look at, Cinder? You know it’s true.

“That…” Pyrrha murmured. She made a scoffing sound out of her throat. “That’s preposterous, of course,” she said, leaning forward to look around Cinder at Sunset. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it, Sunset?”

Sunset knew that she had to answer. She knew that she ought to answer. She ought to agree with Pyrrha, to say that, of course, it was preposterous, it was all nonsense, that it proved Cinder right about continuing dangers waiting for them, trying to drive them apart. She ought to deny this for a load of nonsense, fabricated, forgery. She ought to challenge them to ask Skystar if she had even written this.

She ought to deny it.

But she could not.

She could not deny it, she could not … she couldn’t say anything, she was … the words caught in her throat.

She couldn’t muster the strength to get them out of there.

“Well, Miss Shimmer?” General Blackthorn demanded. “Is it ridiculous? Or should we be taking you into custody as well as Cinder Fall?”

“General Blackthorn—” began Councillor Emerald.

“You are not free of this either, Mister Councillor, certainly not free to pontificate,” General Blackthorn snapped. “I asked you a question, Miss Shimmer: are these accusations true or false?”

Sunset said nothing. Her words … her words were turned to dust and ashes.

She glanced at the screen, her eyes flickering between General Blackthorn and the television. Between her accuser and the picture of herself as she had been once, all smirking arrogance, all ego, careless in her pride and heedless in her conceit.

She hated that picture so much that she wanted to blast the television apart with a bolt of magic.

She could say nothing. She could not deny it.

She knew that she ought to deny it; if she was going to confess, then the time to do it would have been … some time ago, to be quite honest, and certainly not now. She had left it too late, if only for the sake of Councillor Emerald, who would be destroyed by this if it came out, having hidden the truth for so long.

But at the same time … it was true. It was all true. It didn’t matter if Skystar had written it, or Tempest Shadow, or someone else altogether; it was true. Sunset had caused the Breach. And the fact that she had left it this long to confess … she wasn’t sure that she had the energy to perpetuate the falsehood, to deny it further, to deny it to the faces of her friends.

She didn’t have the energy to lie, she didn’t have the courage to confess, and so, she stood silent, and by her silence, she condemned herself.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha said softly.

“Sunset?” asked Ruby.

“Of course it’s nonsense!” Cinder declared, shaking her arm free of Sunset’s loosening grip. “Thin, contemptible, unbelievable, arrant nonsense! Slanderous, vile nonsense, to dare suggest that there was anyone responsible for the Breach but I when there was not! No hand but mine, no ambitions but mine own, no design but my intent to spread discomfort and a plague of fear upon this kingdom. I will not stand here idly by and suffer to be robbed of all the infamy that is my right, as though I am a mere factor to store up fear and hatred before it may be idly plucked from off my brow and bestowed on Sunset’s head, no! I will not suffer it, I say—”

“Silence!” snapped General Blackthorn.

“Silence yourself, churl; fall to your prayers!” Cinder shouted. “Cut out my tongue if you would silence me, for otherwise, I’ll speak with most miraculous voice and chew through any gag that you might place upon me.” She paused. “You have defeated me. You have captured me and bound me, and you will kill me too, but while I live, I’ll speak my piece, for I am a fair, plain-speaking villain. Yes, I am a villain, I do declare it and confess it. I am a villain. I have done villainy.

“I have done murders. I have murdered Phoebe Kommenos, I do confess it. I killed the Purifier, I confess that too, though if any mourn his passing, I have not heard of it. I caused the Breach. I and I alone, I do confess it, though confession would not be necessary if it were not for these continual, base efforts to steal my credit—”

“'Credit'?” Ruby demanded. “'Credit,' for what you’ve done?”

“Aye, Ruby Rose, for what I have done, I and no other,” Cinder replied. “For what I have done, for I have done such things which, though they may be wicked in the extreme, have nonetheless possessed a power about them, a glamour borne of darkness, or why else do we discuss them now, why else does it lead the news? If I have done nothing of note, why does it lead the news that Sunset is said to have done this deed which I committed?

“This is not the first time that this has happened to me, you will recall; it was not so long ago that some scurrilous rodent, sneaking about to send in anonymous tips to muckraking magazines, suggested that Pyrrha and I were in cahoots together, with Pyrrha, of course, Princess of Mistral, Evenstar, Pride and Glory of that ancient realm reborn, she was the prime mover and I was her errand girl despatched out into the wilds to do the dirty work. Pyrrha and I disproved that charge with a ferocious combat; well, give me a sword! Set a blade in my hand and let Sunset draw Soteria, and I will prove it a second time that these accusations are false; she is no friend of mine.”

“But you were friends, once,” Professor Goodwitch said quietly. “Weren’t you?”

Cinder raised her chin. “No,” she said firmly. “No, there could never have been any true friendship between Sunset and myself, because I never let Sunset see the truth of who I was and what I was; she never met me as myself, and hence, she could never truly call herself my friend. How can one be friends with someone one does not know, will some wise fellow answer me that?

“I am the victim of repeated disgraceful allegations, and if I may say, this second set of allegations are more disgraceful seeming for the looks upon your faces. Did you ever look at Pyrrha with such suspicion? Or did you take it for granted that the great and illustrious Pyrrha Nikos would never stoop so low?

“I am the victim of repeated disgraceful allegations. I am continuously beset by them, which should tell you something about the nature of these slanders so carelessly and casually thrown about. Who will be my next master? Who will be the next amongst you to have been secretly holding my leash? Will it be you, Ruby? Or you, Jaune Arc? Or perhaps it will be…” She gestured at Penny. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting your name.”

“Penny,” Penny said. “My name is Penny.”

“Penny, yes, P is for Penny. Rosepetal: R-S-P-T, P is for Penny. I’m very sorry,” Cinder said lightly. “I do not know what it is that makes me so unacceptable to the popular imagination as a villain, as a mover in these things, that they must invent co-conspirators, and superiors giving me my marching orders, as if they know me so well that they have judged I could not possibly have made my own decisions. I would blame the snobbery of it, but that would only explain Pyrrha and not Sunset. Nevertheless, these tiresome accusations vex me sorely, and are each as false as the other, you may depend upon it.

“I am no noble creature. I am, as I confessed, a villain. I have done things … such that it were better that my mother had not borne me. I have smiled, and murdered while I smiled. I have betrayed the faith of those who trusted me and hurt those who thought they cared for me. I have spread misery where’er I have been, and I daresay none will weep for my impending passing. Yet though I have shown little enough virtue, I nonetheless demand the dignity of my vices, mine to me. All that I have done, I did, of my own initiative, and neither Sunset nor Pyrrha nor any other played any part in directing me or assisting me or any other part that you could name or define … save in opposing me, and in the end, in bringing me down.

“And for that, Sunset deserves better credit than suspicion.”

Cinder stopped and half looked as though she were hoping to get a round of applause from someone. No applause came, but Sunset saw some of the police officers in the corner of her eye nodding thoughtfully.

For that matter, Jaune nodded too.

Did you say all that because you were trying to help me out, Cinder, or because you really are upset at the idea of losing the credit?

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder, a gesture which made her jump, so sudden and so unexpected was it, and in such a shredded state had the news rendered her nerves in so short a time.

But it was only Professor Ozpin, resting one hand gently on her shoulder as he smiled benevolently over her head.

“I must admit that I am very loathe to agree with the likes of Miss Fall on anything, and certainly, I do not agree with her that there is any such thing as the dignity of vice, or any sort of glamour that accrues to the doers of wicked deeds, but in the broadest terms, I must agree that those who look upon Miss Shimmer with suspicion on the basis of this … well, on the basis of what appears to me, I must say, to be much ado about nothing … show less sense and good judgement than would be hoped for by people in serious, in some cases exalted, positions.

“Is Miss Shimmer perfect? No, which of us is? Does she yet have room to grow? Yes, of course she does, so do all of us; almost all of us, at least. But is she of low character, is she a villain? No. No, she is not. She is … Miss Shimmer is a brave girl; intelligent, if not as wise as I might always hope for; loving, to a fault; loyal to her friends; generous to those in need when she encounters need. She is, in all her faults and in her glories, a credit to Beacon Academy. She is a huntress I would trust with my life.”

Despite the fact that she knew with her head that he was saying what he felt had to be said in order to get her out of this trouble, despite the fact that, with her head, Sunset could note that he had avoided flat out saying that she had not done what she was accused of doing, despite the fact that, with her head, Sunset spotted that he had managed to subtly point out a few of her faults, or at the very least, damn her with faint praise … despite all of that, despite all that she knew in her head, nevertheless, in her heart…

In her heart, Sunset could not help but be touched. Touched that he would stick up for her in this situation, though he, too, knew her to be guilty.

Touched that he would say those things, and in that way.

You would … you would trust me with your life? Truly?

True or not, it is very generous of you to say so.

“Professor,” she murmured.

“And on the evidence presented,” Professor Ozpin went on, “well, it hardly seems worthy of the name, does it?”

“Indeed it does not,” Councillor Emerald said. “Until and unless anything is brought forward to substantiate these — I hesitated to use the word — allegations, the only crime that I see before me is that someone has hacked into Skystar Aris’ emails and obtained this from her deleted folder. If, indeed, she wrote it at all.”

“And if she wrote it, then deleted or not, do you not think we are entitled to ask why?” asked General Blackthorn.

“I suggest that she should be given the opportunity to answer that before you start arresting people,” Councillor Emerald said sharply.

“For once, Mister Councillor, we are in agreement,” Professor Ozpin said. “Certainly, as her headmaster, I could not allow Miss Shimmer to be taken into custody upon such flimsy grounds.”

“Don’t worry, Ozpin, that won’t happen,” Councillor Emerald assured her. “Let the press … no, I don’t think I shall let the press prattle on, not for long, but for now, they may say what they like — but without consequence.” His eyes fell upon Sunset for a moment, but he said nothing to her and swiftly looked away.

That was probably for the best, all things considered.

“In any event,” Professor Ozpin went on, “there are more important matters to concern us than a few words bandied about regarding Miss Shimmer. I have just learned from Miss Fall that there may be another attack on Vale planned imminently. I know you like to be kept abreast of these things, First Councillor.”

“I see you couldn’t give me much warning again,” Councillor Emerald muttered. “But I suppose this time it isn’t so much your fault.” He paused. “'May'?”

“Not all of Miss Fall’s information is credible,” Professor Ozpin admitted. “I am not sure how much of what she told me I believe. Nevertheless, there is no harm in caution. If what she told me is true, then there will be attempts to sabotage key Valish infrastructure, possibly coordinated with an attack by the grimm gathering outside Vale.”

General Ironwood cleared his throat.

“The answer is still no, General Ironwood, although if this attack does take place, I will be grateful for your assistance,” Councillor Emerald said. “I take it, General Blackthorn, that if the grimm attack before we are prepared to move forward, you will have no further objections to shooting at them?”

“No, First Councillor,” General Blackthorn said in a voice that was almost a growl. “None at all.”

“Then I will have the police beef up security around our infrastructure: power stations, pumping stations, the subway and the overground railway and the skydocks,” Councillor Emerald added. “I assume that you and General Ironwood will continue to take responsibility for the CCT tower, Professor?”

“I will indeed continue to take good care of it, First Councillor,” Professor Ozpin replied.

“Good,” Councillor Emerald said. “Then if anyone tries anything, they should find us ready for them. General Blackthorn, kindly take your prisoner, Cinder Fall, away.”

“Here I am,” Cinder said, holding up her hands. “Come, let’s away to prison.” She chuckled.

Pyrrha released her as two Valish soldiers walked towards Cinder, the others moving to train their guns on her.

“Pyrrha,” Cinder said, “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come. Seriously, do try and survive and win; it would be frightfully humiliating for me if someone else managed to kill you after I had failed at it.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “I will try.”

“You do that,” Cinder said. She looked at Sunset. “Be of good heart, Sunset, for you … for you have always had a good heart, in spite of what some people might tell you.”

Yes, Cinder, some people might disagree with you.

I might disagree with you myself.

But thank you, anyway.

I wish … I wish that I could do more.

Cinder did not look like she wished that Sunset could do more. She did not look like she wished for anything; as the soldiers took her by the arms and dragged her away, she held her head up high, looked, as she had done when Sunset and Pyrrha had her by the arms, as proud as a princess.

Sunset’s gaze followed her. A part of her would have liked to have actually followed Cinder, but a combination of what remained of her sense and the lingering shock over what had just happened meant that she stayed rooted to the spot, only her eyes following.

She did nothing but watch as they bore Cinder away, as General Blackthorn departed with his soldiers, leaving only Sky Beak behind; as they departed, taking Cinder away to an uncertain fate.

As Cinder was borne out of sight, dragged off to who could really say where, Sunset was forced to look somewhere else and was reminded that Cinder was not the only one facing an uncertain fate.

That was unfair; no one was going to kill Sunset.

Although there were a couple of cops who looked as though they might like to.

Pyrrha looked sympathetic to her presumed plight as a fellow victim of malign accusations, her head tilted slightly to one side, one corner of her mouth in a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile, her eyes shining.

Penny had a confused frown upon her face, as though she didn’t understand why any of this was happening.

And Ruby…

Ruby was still staring at Sunset. Ruby was glaring at her Sunset, the normal light absent from her silver eyes.

Glaring at her like she knew she was guilty.

Expelled From Paradise (Rewritten)

Expelled from Paradise

Amber had made her decision.

She was going to tell them everything.

She was going to confess to Sunset and Pyrrha, to Jaune and Ruby, she was going to confess to all of them. She was going to do what Dove had suggested and trust in the fact that they were good people, kind people, people who cared about her.

People who would forgive her.

They would forgive her because … because that was who they were. That was who they were, and that was all there was to it.

She was still a little nervous as she waited in Team RSPT’s dorm room, but at the same time … the ice in her stomach had begun to melt; it felt warmer down there now, and less unpleasant.

She simply awaited the return of her friends to admit the mistake that she had made.

She would tell them everything, they would forgive her, and then … then they would deal with Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow, she supposed. They would get locked away with Cinder, and then … then something would happen to them after that, she supposed, although she didn’t know what.

Whatever it was … they would be out of her way.

All of Salem’s followers would be out of her way.

And then … and then everything would be alright. Everything would be alright, and everyone would be safe, and … and then, she would have to say goodbye to those good, kind people, and go into hiding with only Dove for company.

Of course, she would have always had to say goodbye to her friends and go into hiding with only Dove for company, no matter what choice she made. At least this way, she got to actually say goodbye and leave them behind on good terms.

As opposed to them hating her for what she’d done because they were too brave to understand.

This had not been an easy decision for Amber. It had not been an obvious decision for her to make — obviously not, or she wouldn’t have made the opposite choice before now — because … because she wasn’t her friends; she couldn’t just do the right thing, no matter, no matter how hard the path or how dangerous the road.

She had to judge on what the choice meant for her safety, for the safety of others too — at least, she tried to keep that in mind — and for her, difficulty and danger were more likely to put her off a road than anything else.

It had been a difficult choice. The considerations were … finely balanced. Because of course, if she told her new friends everything, if she betrayed Bon Bon and Tempest, then … then Salem would keep coming after her. She really would have to hide, then; it wouldn’t just be a case of avoiding Ozpin and Sunset and all the rest, it would be a case of hiding in some dark place, isolated and alone, she and Dove constantly looking over their shoulders for Salem’s next agent come to claim the Maiden’s powers.

That was a worry. That was a worry that had been on her mind, but against that worry was the fact that … that they had protected her, her friends, they had fought for her, and they had won, while Salem’s people who had promised to do the same had been shown to be pretty pathetic by comparison.

While her friends had saved her, for the second time, after Sunset had saved her life and brought her back. That … that earned them something, that made them … it made them seem, at this moment, the more trustworthy side to choose.

Certainly, they were the side who — Ozpin aside — didn’t want to use her for anything.

And they would forgive her; if she had thought that they would not, that her behaviour would be punished by them, she wouldn’t have been able to say anything. Fear would have tied up her tongue, and worse — she still hadn’t told Tempest and Bon Bon what she had decided; until she actually spoke to Sunset and the others, her options were, in theory, open.

Not that she was likely to change her mind. She had made her decision.

And it was a decision that pleased Dove too.

Amber felt ashamed to admit it, but it turned out that she had missed the tension that had been in Dove since she had made her bargain with Bon Bon and, through her, with Tempest and with Salem. She felt sure that that wasn’t entirely her fault — it couldn’t have been easy finding out that Bon Bon had been lying to him all this time — but nevertheless, since she had made her decision, it seemed that that tension had drained out of him. He looked so relaxed now, as he lay with his head in her lap — they were both on Penny’s bed, Penny not being here, Amber kneeling upon it, with her skirt spread out around her, falling off the bed on both sides; Dove lay lengthwise, his head resting upon Amber’s lap, and even as she thought, even as her thoughts carried her far away to the cliff edge to look for Team SAPR’s return, Amber’s hand idly stroked at his face and played with his hair where his fringe covered his forehead.

And Dove smiled up at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

He thought that she was making the right decision. He didn’t have any doubts at all. The fact that he had been willing to stand at her side even though he thought that she was making the wrong decision made her love him even more, appreciate him even more, but now … she was glad that she was making a decision that made him happy.

She didn’t want him to be sad on her account.

And Bon Bon deserved to be punished for lying to him, for lying to someone so good.

Amber hoped that they did something harsh and terrible to her for that. Dove had trusted her, clung to her in Amber’s absence, and she had betrayed him.

It’s alright, Dove. I’m here now, and I won’t leave you again.

She wondered … it was probably, certainly — almost certainly at least — unlikely that they would still want to take her to visit Mistral now; there would probably be some price for what she had done, for the lies that she had told, for the way that…

The way that she had betrayed them, just like Bon Bon had betrayed Dove.

Or worse.

But they will forgive me.

I hope they’ll forgive me.

Dove says that they’ll forgive me.

And I think he’s probably right.

If she didn’t think that, then Amber would not have decided as she had.

I can still…

No. No, I can’t change my mind. Look how happy Dove is. I can’t change my mind to something that would make him unhappy again, I can’t do that to him.

Not unless it’s something that he’d understand.

I’m asking so much of him already; I can’t ask for more than that. I can only ask him to follow me so far.

Unless it’s something that he could understand, and what would that be?

Nothing, because they’ll understand as well.

“Yo, Amber!”

The voice of Rainbow Dash recalled Amber to her surroundings so violently that she jumped, and shuddered a little, and nearly displaced Dove’s head for the violet movement of her thighs made his head bounce up and down as though a horse were trying to throw him.

“I’m sorry,” Amber said quickly, stroking his face to soothe it. “I didn’t mean to, I was…” She looked up, to see that everyone currently sharing the room with her — Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight — were all currently looking at her.

Blake had a rather arch smirk upon her face, that looked as though the only reason she was not about to burst out laughing was that she was above such things, at least in such situations as these. Twilight did look as though she was about to laugh, and was covering her mouth in readiness. Rainbow’s smile was a little slighter, but no less fond for it; even Ciel had such a fond smile upon her face, her lips pressed together, the corners of her mouth arching upwards, for all that she seemed to be trying to look disapproving with how stiffly she sat, and on the very edge of her chair, her fingertips resting upon her knees.

“Is everything alright?” Amber asked, looking around them. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Rainbow said at once. “No, nothing’s wrong at all—”

“Well,” Ciel interrupted her. “I am not at all sure that Dove ought to be lying like that.”

Rainbow frowned. “What’s wrong with how he’s lying?”

Ciel blinked. “It is … his head is…” She gestured to her own lap.

“Country matters?” Blake suggested, in a tone as arch as her face.

Ciel cleared her throat. “Yes, Blake, thank you. Although how you can say that without blushing astonishes me.”

“That’s pretty tame considering some of the stuff she reads,” Rainbow muttered.

“So, for that matter, is a young man lying with his head in a lady’s lap,” Blake pointed out. “Sun has laid his head in my lap.”

“Yes, but we’ve just established that you are a girl of … certain tastes,” Ciel murmured.

“Can you honestly say that you don’t think it looks cute?” Twilight asked.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “No, I cannot deny that it looks rather sweet, if one can ignore—”

“If you can stop seeing things that aren’t there,” Rainbow said.

Ciel sighed. “I apologise, Amber.”

“It’s fine,” Amber assured her. “I mean … Yang said something today that got me thinking — that got us thinking — about how Dove and I should … about how much I want to … I think Yang got rather embarrassed—”

“In which case, we shall probably get rather embarrassed too, or at least, I shall,” Ciel said. “So could we perhaps set the subject aside?”

“That would probably be for the best,” Dove said. “Some things are best left private.” He smiled up at her. “I’m just glad you’re in such a good mood, after tonight.”

“We all are,” Rainbow agreed. “I called out to you because you were kind of spacing out, and we were worried about what kind of thoughts might be going around in your head—”

“You were worried,” Twilight said. “It was obvious that only good thoughts could be going on in the mind of someone who was playing with her boyfriend’s hair while he lay his head in her lap.”

“I just wanted to make sure!” Rainbow declared.

“I’m fine,” Amber assured her. “I … I’m better than fine. I’m good. I’m wonderful. Because things are wonderful, aren’t they? Cinder is gone, and everything is going to be fine from now on.”

Rainbow chuckled. “That … yeah, that sounds about right, doesn’t it? At least for now.” She tucked her hands behind her head and leaned back, pressing her hands between her head and the wall. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“For now,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, sure, for now,” Rainbow agreed. “There’s always something. But for now, this particular something that we’ve been dealing with, that’s over, and everything is going to be fine. Tomorrow is the last day of the tournament and then … and then we go home.”

“And I go north,” Blake added. “For good this time.”

“And I’ll go back to the lab,” Twilight said.

“And we three, the rest of us, shall have new teams,” said Ciel.

Rainbow nodded. “New teams for a new year at Atlas. A new year with a new purpose. A year without … without so much to worry about, hopefully.”

Blake chuckled. “Hopefully.”

“Yes, hopefully,” Twilight agreed. “Definitely hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Ciel said softly. “If the Lady will have it so.”

“The Lady might not agree with me, but I think we’ve earned a break,” Rainbow said. “A year when we’re just doing school stuff … well, actually no, not just school stuff. I wouldn’t say no to a few missions, just to remind everyone that we’re the team that gets picked for missions, because we’re the team that gets it done. Team…” She paused. She silently began mouthing words. “If Applejack comes back, and the General lets me keep Ciel, and Ciel, you still want to be on this team with me, then we can get back to Team Raspberry R-A-S-B.”

“Or you could pronounce the C softly, as it is in Ciel, and get to the sound of Raspberry that way,” Twilight pointed out.

“True,” Rainbow agreed. “But, on the other hand, it might be cool to have a different team name, if anyone can think of one that has all of our names in it.” She looked at Amber, and at Dove. “How about you two? Any plans for a quieter year ahead?”

“My year was already quite quiet,” Amber pointed out softly.

Rainbow’s mouth opened without any words coming out. “Yeah,” she admitted. “Yeah, I guess, uh, I guess that it … sorry, it’s just—”

“It’s alright,” Amber said.

“It kind of feels like you’ve been here a while—”

“It’s alright,” Amber assured her. “I just … I’d almost like a year that wasn’t so quiet. Not in the sense of battles or enemies, or even particularly adventure, I suppose, but … something. I think that quiet is what awaits me: a quiet year, a quiet life.”

Dove sat up. “There’s nothing wrong with a quiet life. Our lives were quiet enough before you went away, and they were nice, weren’t they? I was happy.”

“And so was I,” Amber said, taking Dove’s hands in hers. “I was so happy, happier than I was to leave you by far.” She paused for a moment. “I miss the cottage where I lived with my mother, and the woods where we met, and where we kept on meeting. I miss the tree where I would sit, and you would lie” — she looked up at Ciel — “with your head in my lap and let me sing to you. I miss the way the autumn leaves fell down around us. But…” She sighed. “I don’t know, maybe it’s just the part of me that used to love to listen to Ozpin’s stories about the world beyond our little world, that wanted to see it for myself, or maybe it’s the part of me that’s gotten used to having so many new friends, like Sunset and Pyrrha and Ciel—” She smiled in Ciel’s direction. “I know that we’ll be very happy together, you and I, just the two of us…” She glanced down at her hands, holding his, and flashed her teeth in a bright smile. “Just the two of us for a while, at least. But at the same time, it feels like … like a door has just opened on a new world, a brave new world, that was also dangerous despite how brave it was … and now, just as the danger has passed, that door is about to be shut on me.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Twilight said, “it makes us talking about the new worlds that wait for us next year sound a little crass.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Amber said. “I would never … you all have so much to look forward to, and you have a right to look forward to it; I just—”

“You wish that you could have some Fluttershy adventure before you have to settle down,” Rainbow said.

Amber frowned. “'Fluttershy adventure'?”

“Nice, gentle, and peril-free,” Rainbow explained. “Perfect for a friend of ours.”

“She sounds like a very wise and sensible friend, whoever she is,” Amber replied. “Nice, gentle, and peril-free adventure, yes, that sounds lovely. That sounds very fine indeed.”

“What about you, Dove?” asked Blake. “What are you looking forward to in the year to come? Or perhaps, should the question be, what kind of year would you like, if you had the choice?”

Dove was quiet for a moment. “Something … something for you to bear in mind is that, unlike you, I actually had a quiet year,” he reminded them. “I wasn’t privy to all of your missions, your battles, everything else. All I did was—”

“Worry about where Amber was,” Rainbow said. “I guess that got pretty stressful, at times.”

“It … weighed on me,” Dove agreed. “And after I … after I gave up hope … then that was a different kind of weight.”

Amber leaned upon him, resting her head upon his shoulder, pressing her body against his to remind him that he had never truly lost her, and he never would, now that fate and Sunset Shimmer had brought them back together.

She felt Dove put one arm around her in turn.

“When I came here to Beacon,” Dove said, “I wanted two things. I wanted to find Amber, but I also wanted to be, how do I say it? I would say I wanted to be a hero, but that sounds a little too grand for my ambitions — it isn’t as though I wanted to save the world or anything — but, at the same time, I wouldn’t have objected to being a knight, or something like a knight, in any case, a knight like in the old stories, like Olivia or Percy or, to choose an example who was a man, like Bors or Owain or Sagramor the Northman. But I learned I wasn’t really cut out for that sort of thing.”

“You do yourself a disservice, I think,” Ciel said. “You have not failed, that I am aware of; indeed, I would not say that you have been tested.”

“I—” Dove began, but then stopped almost immediately. He was silent for a second, then he laughed, or forced a laugh. “I’d say the fact that nobody thought that I was worthy of being tested, nobody thought that I was testing material, that says something, don’t you think? Nobody thought I was on your level, or Blake’s, or Team Sapphire’s?”

“That doesn’t mean much,” Rainbow told him. “There’s a lot of great guys I could name who don’t know what we know; it doesn’t make them chumps: Trixie, Starlight—”

“Neon,” Ciel added.

“You’re all very kind,” Dove told them.

“We are honest, or at least, we strive to be, when circumstances allow,” Ciel said. “From your combat performance, I would rate you higher than Jaune.”

“Jaune’s gotten pretty good,” Dove said, “and that sword of his has gotten a lot more versatile since it was reforged.”

“You could get a new sword as well,” Twilight said. “I could help you come up with some specifications; I’ve designed weapons for my brother, and Rainbow Dash, as well as Starlight’s—”

“Again, you’re all very kind,” Dove said, raising one hand. “But not being able to find Amber, thinking she was gone, thinking that I’d lost her, and then getting Amber back, it’s shown me, reminded me, what really matters.”

Rainbow nodded. “Fair enough. You know what you want, so go for it. Go for it with everything you’ve got. Doesn’t answer the question of what you want out of the year to come, though.”

“Amber,” Dove said. “Just Amber, at my side, or I at hers, however you want to phrase it. That’s all I want.”

Ciel sighed. “For that, Mister Bronzewing, I think you are entitled to lay your head in her lap without fear of further censure.”

Rainbow’s scroll went off. She looked first this way, and then that, before remembering where her scroll was and fishing it out of one pocket.

“It’s from Ruby,” she said. “Team Sapphire’s back. And they want us to go down there. Apparently, there’s something that we have to talk about.”

The ride on the airship back to Beacon had been … uncomfortable, to say the least. Probably the most uncomfortable airship ride that Sunset had ever been on.

Mostly because it had taken place in near complete silence. Professor Ozpin had been of no help whatsoever in that regard, lost in his thoughts as he was, although that was, to be fair, quite understandable.

Sunset would have liked to have been lost in her thoughts too. Even if that meant that she were lost in thoughts of Cinder and her impending fate, which might be very close at hand if she was right. She would like to be lost in thoughts of all the other things that Cinder had said, and which were right and which were wrong and which were worth looking into; thoughts of the Siren at large in Vale, and possible other servants of Salem lurking in Beacon, and the imminent attack and all the rest.

She would have liked to have been lost in thoughts of all such things, not necessarily because they would have been good thoughts — they almost certainly would not — but because at least they would have been better than the thoughts that she had at the moment.

Those thoughts, those other thoughts, those arguably more important thoughts, they still existed, in her mind, and to what extent they were able, they warred against the other thought that occupied her head at present, trying to squeeze out space for themselves, to make the case for their importance. And of course, they were important, more important than Sunset’s own troubles.

But Sunset’s own troubles, which were also in her mind and were the reason why she could not become as lost in thought as she might have wished, threatened to make them irrelevant.

Why was that, you might ask? Had not the allegations, raised without proof, little more than speculation or malicious gossip for all that they happened to be true and accurate, been dismissed by Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald? Had not Cinder spoken up in her defence, pointing out that very similar — and false, this time — allegations had been made against Pyrrha not too long ago? No official action was going to follow, she was not going to be hauled off to prison; some might believe what they heard on the news, and her reputation in some quarters might be tarnished accordingly, but that…

If that were all, then Sunset would not have felt such a chill about her. She would not have felt as though she had attracted a micro-climate as cold as Atlas around her and only her, chilling her to the bone despite her aura.

If it had been only the opinion of the general populace that had become, or was soon to become, mixed on her at best, then Sunset would scarcely have given it much thought. She might even have hoped that the vast majority of the people would not believe such a thin tale, without any backing, and that they would continue to regard her favourably for all else that she had done.

If it had only been the opinion of the general populace.

But it was not. It was also Ruby’s opinion; and Ruby, Sunset feared very much, believed it.

She believed the truth, which was much more awkward than believing lies because … because Sunset wasn’t sure; she didn’t think that she had it in her to lie to Ruby about this.

Or at least, she didn’t think that she had it in her to lie to Ruby about this anymore.

Despite the fact that, on some level, in some respects, she ought to lie, for the sake of Professor Ozpin and First Councillor Emerald, both of whom she had rendered complicit in her misdeeds — or perhaps it might be said that they had rendered themselves complicit, not that the difference was material — she ought to say what needed to be said to convince Ruby that all was well, that the accusations against were scurrilous, that there was nothing in it, nothing to worry about at all.

But Sunset couldn’t do that. She just … she couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to at the police precinct, when Lisa Lavender’s words had stolen away Sunset’s own, and she doubted that she would be able to now, either.

She couldn’t lie to Ruby, who had divined the truth already; she couldn’t lie to Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha either, who believed in her innocence.

She had betrayed their trust enough, it seemed.

I’ve picked a fine time to become honest.

Then again, I suppose if you can’t be honest from the start all the time, then the second best time to start is always right now.

That’s probably what Twilight would tell me, anyway, if I had time to ask her about it.

Perhaps I am lost in my thoughts, after all.

Just not the thoughts that I would prefer to be lost in.

But Sunset could not grow too lost in her thoughts because she could feel Ruby’s eyes upon her, burning into her the way her silver-eye powers burned away the grimm. All through the airship ride, Ruby was staring at her, and every second that passed reinforced Sunset’s impression from the police station that Ruby had read her right — read her better than Pyrrha, Jaune, or Penny had.

She would confront her once they were alone; of that, Sunset was certain.

Once they had left the airship, once they returned to their dorm room, Ruby would confront her; she would demand to know the truth.

And Sunset didn’t think that she could lie to her — to them.

And then…

And then…

What then?

Sunset had really no idea, except that it was unlikely to be good.

And in the meantime, there is a Siren loose in the city, there may be other followers of Salem lurking in the shadows, and Vale may be about to come under attack.

We don’t have time for this.

Which is why they’ve released this information now, of course.

Sunset glanced at Professor Ozpin, who was as silent as she was, and looked even more contemplative.

He would no doubt take steps to handle the impending attack; indeed, he had already begun to do so, and would continue to take more of them. He might, if he believed Cinder, take steps to safeguard the other Maidens whose locations were known to Salem, and to deal with Professor Lionheart. He might even do something about the Siren.

Sunset hoped he did, since she doubted that Team SAPR would be getting around to it.

I fear your swords are out of action, Professor; perhaps one of them will be so for good.

Whatever was about to happen to Sunset, she doubted that she would be allowed to remain as leader of Team SAPR with no fuss, no foul; the capacity for forgiveness that the others possessed was great, but it was not infinite.

The awkwardness — to say the least — between Sunset and Ruby infected the others; no one said anything at all, and Pyrrha’s few attempts to make conversation died pitiful deaths, and since Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood — who was returning to Beacon with them, not heading to his own warship — seemed no more inclined to speak than anyone else, it meant that the Bullhead which bore them across the rooftops of Vale was entirely silent.

It would have been a relief when the airship finally landed, if Sunset hadn’t thought she knew what was coming next.

The air was bracing as she leapt down out of the airship onto the docking pad, but it wasn’t as chilly as Sunset had felt inside the airship.

There was still no sound as everyone else exited the airship too, all in silence, the only noise being the thuds they made upon the docking pad surface as they disembarked.

It was Professor Ozpin who broke the silence, his voice sounding weary, although — hopefully — that was just from the fact that it was getting late.

“Students, as it is rather late by this point, and Miss Nikos has at least one fight ahead of her tomorrow, I strongly suggest that you go to bed,” Professor Ozpin said. “Glynda, James, I must keep you up a little longer and ask that you join me in my office; we have things to discuss. I will ask Qrow to join us there.”

“Of course, Oz,” General Ironwood said softly. “We’re right behind you.”

“Thank you both,” Professor Ozpin said. Nevertheless, he did not start right away for his office, but lingered on the docking pad, resting his cane upon the surface beneath their feet.

“I know that the end of this night was a little surprising,” he said, his gaze sweeping across Sunset, Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny. “But, if you can, don’t let it take away from your sense of accomplishment. You won a victory tonight. Whatever else happened, or will happen, do not forget that.” He looked a little as if he was trying to smile, but it was hard to be sure because it didn’t get very far, his lips barely even twitching. “Goodnight, children,” he said.

“Goodnight, Professor,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Goodnight, Professor,” Penny said, with a little more volume. “Goodnight, General.”

General Ironwood did smile, despite the circumstances. “Goodnight, Penny. Lead on, Ozpin.”

Professor Ozpin did not reply by words but by his actions; he began to lead the way, the tip of his cane tapping lightly upon the ground, letting out a slight rattling sound as it did so, and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch fell in behind him as he led on, following him down the path from the docking pad towards Beacon, heading for the Emerald Tower that rose up out of the darkness, its green lights shining in the sky to guide them in.

Sunset and the others lingered a little, there in the silence, giving the adults a little time to draw ahead of them.

Sunset thrust her hands into her pockets.

Ruby got out her scroll.

“What are you doing?” asked Pyrrha.

“I’m texting Rosepetal, asking them to come join us in our room,” Ruby replied. “They should all be here for this.”

“But Professor Ozpin said—” Penny began.

“I know what Professor Ozpin said,” Ruby said, her voice growing sharp, like the edge of Crescent Rose. “But there’s something that we have to do first.”

Nobody gainsaid her further; Sunset certainly wasn’t going to, little though she expected this to be any kind of pleasant experience for her, and it seemed that no one else felt that they should or could or wanted to either.

Ruby’s thumbs worked across her scroll, sending her message to Team RSPT — and Amber too, perhaps, and Dove as well; how many people were going to be there for this? How many people were going to bear witness to her confession?

And can Rainbow Dash avoid giving herself away when it all comes out? She’s another one I don’t want to get into trouble.

Sunset licked her lips. “Could … could we do this in private, first? Does everyone have to be here for this at once?”

“It’s better to only do it once,” Ruby said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Sunset didn’t reply, but it seemed like that was the end of that.

The croaking call of a raven briefly disturbed the otherwise silent night.

Ruby put her scroll away and began to lead the way without asking or waiting for anyone else. She set the pace, the rest of them following along as though they were strangers here and Ruby alone knew where she was going.

In a sense, she was the only one who knew where she was going, just not in a strictly literal sense.

And so, with Ruby leading, they arrived at their dorm room, to find that the others — Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Blake, Ciel, Amber, and Dove — were all waiting for them outside the room, having had a shorter journey from the RSPT room than they had had from the docking pad.

“Hey, you guys,” Rainbow said, hailing them with a wave of one hand. “Listen, congratulations on your big win — and I really mean that, by the way; you did something important out there tonight.”

“You all helped,” Penny pointed out.

“A little, perhaps, but it was by your efforts that Cinder was — finally, one might hope — subdued,” Ciel replied. “You deserve all the praises that have and, if the Lady wills, will fall upon your head.” She held her right arm before her waist and took a step back with one foot in an almost curtsy-like motion, even as she bowed from the waist as though she were leaning over her own arm. Her free arm swept outwards, her fingertips brushing the opposite wall. “I salute your courage and your skill.”

“Really?” Penny gasped. “You do? Thank you, Ciel, that … that really does mean a lot. It means a whole lot. Thank you.”

“All the same,” Rainbow said, “it’s getting late, and Pyrrha and I have to fight tomorrow — if it isn’t today—”

“Yes, it’s today,” Twilight said. “It’s past midnight.”

“Okay, Pyrrha and I have to fight today,” Rainbow said. “So as much as I would normally appreciate a good victory celebration—”

“This isn’t a celebration,” Ruby said. “And it won’t take long.” She opened up the door with her scroll. “Come on in.”

Rainbow frowned as she looked at Sunset. Unfortunately, Sunset couldn’t think of a way to convey ‘Ruby knows about the Breach’ through her eyes alone.

And so, everyone followed her, trooping inside the SAPR dorm room. Sunset stayed closed by the door, standing against the wall between the bedroom door and the bathroom door, not really looking at anybody else, keeping her eyes fixed upon the wardrobe doors on the other side of the room.

Except she could not wholly keep them there; her eyes fell to the initials and symbols carved on the wall next to Ruby’s bed.

They were small, and smaller seeming at this distance, but Sunset could still make them out: the STRQ letters, and then the SAPR letters below them.

It seemed so very, very long ago, and they seemed such different people than they had been then.

Was I a better person or worse than I am now?

I had a worse attitude, but I hadn’t done so many bad things.

I miss those days.

And I miss them more for knowing that they’ll never come again.

The door shut, and it seemed to Sunset that it shut very heavily indeed, although she doubted that had been Rainbow Dash’s intent.

Nevertheless, the door shut.

Amber looked down and fussed with the little gold bracelets on her wrists. Dove put one arm around her waist and whispered something into her ear.

Sunset heard something — a bird, maybe — tapping on the windows, but when she briefly glanced towards the window, she saw nothing there.

“Ruby,” Blake said, “what’s this about?”

“This,” Ruby said, facing Sunset, looking right at her. “This is about how Sunset caused the Breach. Didn’t you?”

“Ruby!” Pyrrha cried. “That is completely uncalled for!”

“Why would you say something like that?” Penny demanded.

Sunset herself said nothing, as Rainbow Dash looked at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

“What?” Blake said. “I mean … what … Penny’s right, why would you say something … what’s going on here?”

“Don’t you know?” Jaune asked. “It was on the news.”

“We haven’t checked the news,” Twilight said softly.

“Although it seems that perhaps we should have,” Ciel said. “Has Sunset—?”

“It’s an accusation,” Jaune said. “I don’t know why…” He trailed off, glancing at Ruby.

Blake’s brow furrowed as she got out her scroll, and opened it. “Let’s see … I haven’t gotten a notification.” She swiped her finger across the screen and began to read. She blinked.

“Is it what Ruby made it seem?” asked Ciel.

“It seems,” said Blake, with emphasis upon the word, “that someone has gotten hold, somehow, of a deleted email that Skystar Aris never sent—”

“How can anyone get hold of a deleted email?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is,” Twilight said,

“But they’re deleted,” Rainbow replied. “That’s the whole point!”

“They’re deleted off your account,” Twilight countered. “Nothing is ever really deleted off the CCT network.”

“Except viruses, one would hope,” Ciel murmured. “Blake, please, say on, what does this deleted email say?”

“What you’d think from what Ruby just said,” Blake said, “that Sunset caused the Breach, that she detonated the mine at the end of the tunnel, that Skystar was there when Sunset confessed to her mother — Skystar’s mother, not Sunset’s mother, obviously — and Councillor Emerald, and that the two of them agreed to cover it up.”

“And it’s true,” Ruby declared. “Isn’t it, Sunset?”

“Ruby, how can you say that?” Pyrrha demanded. “How can you ask that? How can you gather everyone here like this for an absurd charade?”

“Pyrrha—” Sunset began.

Pyrrha ignored her, going on, “Need I remind everyone, as Cinder so recently reminded some of us, that I was subject to malicious accusations not so very long ago, and none of you suggested that those accusations were anything other than false. I am grateful for that, truly I am, but why can you not give Sunset the same faith and confidence that you gave me? This is very unkind, I must say.”

“I’m not saying that Sunset worked with Cinder, or that she’s working for Salem; that would be ridiculous,” Ruby said. “But Sunset was up at the front of the train alone, and we were behind her: you, me, Jaune, Rainbow, Blake, Applejack.” She paused. “And if the mine hadn’t gone off, if there hadn’t been that way out of the tunnel, then … even with my silver eyes, we would have probably died down there, wouldn’t we?”

Pyrrha hesitated a moment, before saying, “That seems … yes, I think you’re right.”

Ruby nodded. “And that’s why you did it,” she said. “Isn’t it, Sunset? Because you couldn’t let us die. Because … because our lives meant more to you than Vale surviving. Because our lives have always meant more to you than … because you’ve never been able to make the hard calls. You’ve always…” Again, Ruby paused, hesitating for a moment. “Or am I wrong?” she asked. “Look me in the eye and tell me that I’m wrong. If you do, if you can tell me — not Cinder, not Professor Ozpin, you in your own words — if you can tell me that I’m wrong, and all of this is just make believe from Skystar or whoever, then … then I’ll believe you.” Ruby swallowed. “Because I’d really like to believe that, even now.”

Now they were come to it. Now they had arrived at the moment. Now was the point…

Now was the point at which it could no longer be avoided.

There was a voice in Sunset’s head which was telling her to lie: lie for the sake of Professor Ozin, lie for the sake of Councillor Emerald, lie for the sake of Rainbow Dash — although, hopefully, that wasn’t what was on Rainbow’s own mind as she shook her head ever so slightly.

Lie for the sake of the team.

Lie for the sake of herself and the life that she had here that was about to come tumbling down.

There were a million reasons to steel herself and look Ruby in the eye and lie with all the conviction that she could muster. A million reasons to just look her in the eye and say ‘I didn’t do this; these allegations are false.’

A million reasons to lie, and only one reason to tell the truth.

Because it was true, and because she didn’t have it in her to lie anymore.

Okay, two reasons to tell the truth.

Everyone was looking at her. Everyone was looking at her with curiosity, confusion, with the exceptions of Rainbow Dash and Ruby.

Sunset was sure that that would be preferable to the way that they’d be looking at her in a second.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

She tried to steel herself. She wasn’t sure it really worked.

“Sunset?” Penny whispered.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked straight at Ruby. She looked Ruby in the eye, just as she had asked her too, and said, “I can’t.”

Rainbow closed her eyes and bowed her head. Pyrrha gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth. Amber’s eyes widened, while Dove glanced frantically between Sunset and Ruby, his grip upon Amber seeming to tighten.

Penny stared at Sunset. “You can’t? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“You mean…” Jaune began. “You mean—”

“I did it,” Sunset said. “I did … everything in that email is true.”

“But … how?” Blake asked. “How could you physically—?”

“Cinder had left me the detonator,” Sunset explained. “It was there, in the train cab, when I arrived.”

“The detonator?” Blake repeated. “Not a detonator?”

“The detonator or a detonator, what’s the difference?” Rainbow demanded.

“Calling it ‘the detonator’ implies that it was the only one,” Blake pointed out.

“Then it was a detonator; there’s no way that Cinder would put the only detonator on the train where it might not get used and all her planning might come to nothing,” Rainbow declared. “If Sunset hadn’t done it—”

“But Sunset did,” Ruby said, in a voice that was not loud, not raised, but nonetheless managed to rise above Rainbow Dash and silence her. “It doesn’t matter how many other detonators there were; it just matters that Sunset used the detonator that was right in front of her. To save us.”

“That’s right,” Sunset said, in a voice rendered hoarse by her dry throat. “To save you.”

“You prized our lives above all of Vale?” asked Pyrrha.

“Yes,” Sunset said softly.

“But people died!” Jaune cried.

“I know,” Sunset said, her voice still quiet.

“People died!” Jaune repeated, striding forwards towards her. “Miranda almost died! Her friend actually died, and Miranda … you saw how sad she was, how she couldn’t even stay in Vale any more, and that … that was because of you?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Well, it did!” Jaune shouted into her face.

“I know,” Sunset whispered, cringing before him.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha began.

“What did you think was going to happen—?!”

“Jaune, that’s enough,” Ruby said, again in that voice which managed to be powerful without being loud. Perhaps it was the sharpness of it, for though it was not loud, it was sharp nevertheless, a scythe blade of a voice cutting through all other voices.

Jaune looked over his shoulder. “But—”

“I know,” Ruby said. “What Sunset did was wrong. But that doesn’t mean … that’s enough. Please.”

Jaune hesitated for a moment, looming a little over Sunset, casting a shadow over her, enveloping her in it as he blocked out the light. Sunset shrank back before him, and she remained shrank back as Jaune turned and walked away, leaving everyone else free to stare at Sunset, just as they had before.

“Nevertheless, it is a question to be asked,” Ciel said. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“Does that matter?” asked Ruby.

“Does any of this matter?” Ciel responded. “We are not a court, we have neither power or authority to punish Sunset for her actions, so surely, the only reason for us all being here is so that we may gain some measure of understanding?”

“I asked you here because I wanted you all to know,” Ruby said.

“And I, knowing, would like to understand,” Ciel declared. “If that is permissible?”

“I thought,” Sunset said, “I thought that the warning, sent on by you to General Ironwood, would enable the Atlesians to respond in time to repel the assault.”

“As we did,” Rainbow interjected, prompting Blake to glance at her.

“And if there hadn’t been a warning?” demanded Jaune.

“Then Sunset would have made the same choice,” Ruby said. “Wouldn’t you? You still wouldn’t have let us die down in that tunnel?”

Sunset shifted in place. “I … I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?” asked Ruby.

“No,” Sunset insisted. “But … I fear not. You are too precious to me.”

“Our lives are not worth a kingdom,” Pyrrha murmured.

“So you have said,” Sunset replied. “And I, with my deeds, have answered you.”

“But you confessed,” Blake said. “If what Skystar wrote is right — and it was right on that, so why not? — then you confessed to the First Councillor of Vale, and the former First Councillor. Why?”

“Because I felt guilty,” Sunset said. “I … First Councillor Aris was about to be thrown out of office because of the Breach, because of what I did, because of me. I thought that if I came clean with her, then she could use that information to save herself.”

“You felt guilty about a politician’s career but not about people dying?” asked Jaune incredulously.

“Of course I felt guilty!” Sunset snapped, her voice rising. “I … you can judge me all you want, hate me if you want, but please don’t … don’t assume that I have borne this with a light heart all this while.”

“The blows on your face,” whispered Pyrrha.

“So you told the First Councillor, the past and the present one,” Ruby said, “and then they covered it up between them?”

Sunset nodded.

“Why?” Ruby demanded. “Why would they do something like that?”

“Councillor Emerald didn’t want to, at first,” Sunset said. “He wasn’t very happy with me.”

“You could have fooled us with how chummy you and he were tonight,” Jaune said.

“He … his attitude towards me has softened a bit,” Sunset said. “But back then, it was Councillor Aris who pressed to keep it all secret. They talked it out in private so I don’t know exactly what passed between them, but … I think they were afraid that feeling in the city would be even worse than it was then if it came out. And it was too late to save Councillor Aris, far too late. It was better for Vale if they kept on thinking that I was a hero who had defended the Breach, rather than—”

“The reason there was a Breach at all,” Ruby finished for her.

“Yes,” said Sunset, in a voice so low it barely carried past her lips.

“So when Councillor Emerald defended you, he was lying,” Ruby said.

“Yes,” said Sunset, scarcely louder than before.

She made no mention of Professor Ozpin. She would not mention him unless pressed to do so.

Ruby frowned. “I can’t believe they did that,” she muttered.

“Councillor Emerald seemed so nice,” Penny pointed out. “I think … I think that he must have thought that he had a good reason for doing what he did; just like Sunset thought that she had a good reason for doing what she did, even though we don’t agree. Even though it was wrong, what she did. It was wrong, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Yes, Penny, it was wrong. It put people in danger. A huntress would have known that we accepted the risks when we went to Mountain Glenn, we accepted the risks when we got on that train—”

“Sunset didn’t want to get on the train,” Rainbow pointed out.

Stop trying to defend me, Dash; you’ll give yourself away.

Ruby inhaled through her nose. “No,” she said. “No, she didn’t, I remember that. But Sunset was the one who volunteered to head up to the front of the train and stop it. And you ought not to have undertaken it unless you intended to go through with it. Our lives … a huntress would have known that we accepted the risks and that we were prepared to give our lives to defend the people.” Her mouth tightened. “But I’m not sure that you were ever really a huntress, were you?”

Pyrrha frowned at that, but said nothing.

Sunset, too, said nothing. As a charge, it was hard to deny, no matter how much it stung.

Ruby seemed to grow taller before Sunset’s eyes; she seemed to be looking down on Sunset from on high, as though she were even taller than Pyrrha as she said, “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Anything at all?”

“I could not lose you,” Sunset whispered. “I … just couldn’t lose you. You mean everything to me. That … was my only thought. I couldn’t lose you.”

Jaune frowned and put his hands in his pockets and snuck a glance at Pyrrha, even as Pyrrha clasped her hands together and looked down at the ground with a melancholy expression on her face. Penny reached out — towards who, exactly, Sunset could not say — before pulling her hands back quickly.

“That’s too bad, because you have,” said Ruby, without any malice in her voice, as casually as though she were stating the weather. “First Councillor Emerald may have decided that this was worth keeping a secret, but I’m going to tell Professor Ozpin—”

“Professor Ozpin knows as well,” Sunset said.

Now it was Ruby’s turn to let out a little gasp, her silver eyes widening a little bit. “Professor … he knows?”

“I told him too,” Sunset admitted. “Councillor Emerald knows that he knows, but Skystar doesn’t. That’s why he wasn’t mentioned.”

“A small blessing amidst all this,” Ciel observed. She frowned. “General Ironwood—”

“Doesn’t know, unless Professor Ozpin told him without letting me know,” Sunset said.

“Professor Ozpin knows?” Ruby repeated. “Professor Ozpin knows? But he … he’s supposed to be … he’s a huntsman? He’s the model of a huntsman. So why would he let you get away with this?”

“Because he…” Sunset hesitated. “You might have to ask him that; I’m not sure that I could explain it.”

“I will,” Ruby declared, some of the firmness returning to her voice after it had been shaken by the revelation about Professor Ozpin. “I suppose … I suppose that we don’t have to agree with every decision that Professor Ozpin makes. It’s not like we’ve all been a hundred percent behind him in the past, is it?” She paused. “I suppose … I suppose it is important that we not panic people. Vale is on edge as it is, and if everyone knew what you had done, then it might turn them against the faunus even more than they have already, and I don’t want that. Nobody wants that. And I guess that it’s the job of people like Professor Ozpin and the First Councillor to see the big picture, even if I don’t agree with how they’ve arranged the little pictures to get there. So everything that you’ve just told us will stay between us, and everyone else can be convinced by what the First Councillor says, that it’s just an accusation with no proof behind it, like happened to Pyrrha.” Another moment’s pause. “But you have to go, Sunset; you can’t stay here anymore.”

“I…” Sunset had expected this, dreaded this, and yet, all the same, now that the moment had arrived, it caught her by surprise. “No.”

“Yes,” Ruby replied, her words as heavy as inexorable destiny and just as inescapable. “You’re not a huntress, if you ever were, and you don’t belong here, if you ever did.”

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, as if there might be some—

“Don’t look at her,” Ruby said. “You and Pyrrha don’t get to pat me on the head and tell me I’m wrong, not this time.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I don’t know you, Sunset Shimmer. For a while, I dreamed I did. For a while, I dreamed of someone just like you, someone who cared too much about some things and cared too little about others; someone who was selfless and so, so selfish at the same time; someone strong, and at the same time, oh so weak. I dreamed of someone just like that, but now that I’ve woken up … I despise my dream. I never knew you. None of us did.”

“In that, you’re wrong,” Sunset whispered. “You knew me in my faults and in my glories too. You knew me better than anyone has known me since she who raised me knew me. You knew me well enough to know that I had done this thing, though all around insisted I had not. You knew me, and knowing me, you hold me in contempt.”

She would not cry. She would not weep; she would not have them think that she was turning on the waterworks in a bid for sympathy, to try and guilt Ruby into changing her mind. She did not want to be seen that way, here at the end. She would depart with her dignity wrapped around her, what tattered shreds of it remained. She would depart like Cinder going to the gallows, head held high.

Partly for that reason, because she feared that her dignity would slip away from her if she lingered too long, and partly because she doubted that Ruby had the patience to allow her a long goodbye even if everyone else in the room had been willing to hear it, Sunset prepared for this rare instance to be brief.

“There are things that Pyrrha heard from Cinder that are important,” she said. “Please, don’t forget all about them because of this.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, we shall not; I … we shall not.”

There was so much else that Sunset wanted to say that the unspoken words kept her rooted to the spot for a time, but she had told herself that she wouldn’t try and draw this out — not that anyone else would want her to draw this out — and so, her breast heaving, she turned towards the door.

“Hang on, hang on,” Rainbow said. “Ruby, you can’t just … you can’t just banish Sunset!”

“I can,” Ruby said, and her voice trembled a little despite her control over it. “I do.”

“Rainbow,” Sunset murmured. “That’s enough.” She walked towards the door, though her legs felt heavy, and every step felt a struggle. Even to reach for the door handle felt like it was putting a cramp in her hand.

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

Keep it together.

She looked back, back at everyone who had made her life, her world, so different from what she had imagined, so much better.

The people who, like that life, were lost to her now.

“It’s … it’s been fun,” she said, and then flung open the door and stepped through it before she — or anyone else — could say more.

The door shut behind her, with an even heavier sound than when it had shut with everybody coming in.

At least, it sounded that way to Sunset.

The corridor was empty. No one stirred from Team YRBN’s room to investigate the noise.

No one stopped Sunset as she started to walk away. She walked away as quickly as she could, her stride quickening with every step she took until she was running, running down the corridor, running down the stairs, bursting out of the door at a flat run with her head bowed and her ears drooped down into her hair and tears flying out after her.

Memories filled her head, memories that she didn’t want to think about, memories that rose unbidden, memories that demanded to be recalled, memories that would never come again, memories that kept the tears flowing.

Sunset’s arms pumped as she ran past the statue of the huntsman and huntress, ran … she didn’t even really know where she was running to until she came to a stop not far from the Emerald Tower.

She looked up to where the green lights burned in the darkness. Up to where Professor Ozpin worked with his lieutenants to plan the defence of Vale.

Take care of them, Professor, Sunset thought. I beg of you.

She wiped the tears away, although more followed on so swiftly after that there wasn’t much point.

“Yes,” she whispered to the night and to the moon and to the green lights above. “Yes, it’s been fun.”

Amber only understood some of what had just happened.

Everyone had talked about something called the Breach. The Breach. The Breach. Sunset had caused the Breach, people had died in the Breach, Sunset had fought — or people thought she had fought; that part was unclear — to defend the Breach.

It had involved an explosion and something about a tunnel and a train, but nobody had told Amber about this Breach, and nobody had stopped to explain what it was, and given the mood of the room — and her own mood — Amber didn't feel like asking.

Besides, she understood the important part well enough.

She understood what had just happened here very well indeed.

Dove had advised her to come clean, to confess what she had done or planned to do. Dove thought — and he must have believed it, or he never would have advised such a course — that they would forgive her, because they were kind people with forgiveness in their nature.

Amber had believed him. Amber had thought the same as he.

She did not think so now.

Amber didn't understand what the Breach was, but she understood perfectly that Sunset had ventured upon the forgiveness of her friends, and those friends — Ruby, in particular — had rejected her.

No, it was worse than that; Ruby had done worse than that. She had destroyed Sunset before their very eyes.

Amber could not confess now, not after what she had seen, not after that glimpse of what awaited her if she did confess.

Sunset had thought that she was saving her friends, Sunset had thought that she was doing the right thing — Amber understood that much, at least; they would have died were it not for Sunset — and none of it had mattered. None of it had availed her in the eyes of Ruby and the others.

In the morning, they had loved her. In the morning, they had embraced her as their dear friend and comrade. In the morning, she had been a part of them, but now...

Now, they knew her not. Now, they despised her. Now, she, and the time that they had spent together, was but a dream that they had dreamt, a dream worthy to be held in contempt.

She was their friend, was, or had been, and had protested that they knew her as well as anyone. It made no difference. Ruby had cast her out all the same. She was unclean, her deeds too dark to be expunged, too vile to be borne.

And Sunset had the sanction of Ozpin, which Amber certainly did not possess and was scarcely likely to receive.

It had not been enough to save Sunset, and Amber did not even have that shield — and that was without considering how Ozpin himself was likely to react when he found out what she had planned to do.

No. No, these were not forgiving people, and Amber could not put her trust in them; she could not tell them all. They would do … Amber wasn't certain what they would do, but it would surely be terrible.

Perhaps they would wait until Cinder was dead, then find a new Fall Maiden and kill her to pass the powers along. Perhaps it would be Ruby, who seemed so righteous and so free from indecision.

Amber could not tell them, and Dove would understand that now, for sure, having witnessed the same as she, the same cruelty, the same absence of any mercy or forgiveness.

He would understand that they were locked into their course, as little as they liked it.

The dorm room had been silent throughout Amber's deliberations, no one speaking, no one even breathing loudly. Ruby stood in the centre of the room, back straight and head up, but her body trembling from head to toe.

"I didn't mean to be cruel to her," Ruby said, ignoring the fact that to Amber's eyes she had been very cruel indeed, "but as huntsmen and huntresses, there are certain," — she sniffed — "certain standards that we have to uphold; there are values that we have to live by, or calling ourselves huntresses doesn't mean anything. Sunset broke too many of them."

"But," Penny began, "Professor Ozpin—"

"I know," Ruby said. "I know, I need to … at least, I want to speak to him about that. I need to tell him…" She blinked, and wiped at her pale cheek with one finger. "I didn't want to be cruel, but I did the right thing, I'm certain. There was no way that … Sunset might not be punished for what she’s done, but she couldn’t stay here, and she couldn’t lead this team, not anymore. She should never have led this team to begin with.” Her voice dropped. “It would have been better if she’d never come at all." She sniffed again. "Pyrrha?"

"Yes?" Pyrrha asked uncertainly. "Yes, Ruby?"

"Will you take Sunset's book?" Ruby asked. "Her magic book, her journal, and try and catch up with her before she leaves and give it to her? She should have it, and I don't want her to … I don't want her to have to come back for it later. I hope that having it will bring her some comfort."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "Right away."

"And I'll go with you, if that's alright," interjected Amber. "I … I'd like to say goodbye."

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Aside from getting a chapter title change, and a complete rewrite, the two biggest changes to this chapter are that Amber is on the verge of confessing everything about her dealings with Tempest and Bon Bon, before... all of this, and what happens to Sunset.

Sunset is not going to prison this time around, for reasons that are hopefully obvious after the last couple of chapters, where there are powerful people with a vested interest in the narrative of her innocence. As far as I can tell or recall, people didn't really like Sunset going to jail, and I became less and less of a fan of it myself, so what we have here and now preserves the essential point of the break between Ruby and Sunset, while not giving every man and his dog the the ability to kick Sunset while she's down, hopefully avoiding the 'The 100' levels of angst that came to plague the original.

I Would Have Followed (New)

I Would Have Followed

A raven cawed out in the darkness. Sol Invictus jostled a little on Sunset’s shoulder as she trudged across the ground towards the garages.

She had called in on the locker room — it was locked, but that was no obstacle to someone who knew the layout of the room well enough to teleport inside — to retrieve her rifle and her armour, but she had left Soteria where it was; she did not have it with her. The cuirass and vambraces she had thought about leaving, since they had been purchased with Lady Nikos’ money, and she was hardly going to be putting them to the use to which Lady Nikos had intended, but, at the same time, it might also be said that Sunset had already paid Lady Nikos back the value of the armour in the services which she had rendered on the battlefield and in the Amity Colosseum.

And besides, what was Lady Nikos — or anyone else, for that matter — going to do with an ordinary breastplate and two vambraces, plain and unadorned? Did she not have an armoury of antique gear of war, groaning with pieces much finer than these and with more distinguished histories? What would happen to these things, if she left them behind, except that they would be thrown away, tossed in the garbage?

They deserved better than that, although what Sunset could give them, and whether that qualified in any way as better, she could not say.

But Soteria … Soteria was different. Soteria was no ordinary blade, purchased with a few of Lady Nikos’ lien; Soteria was an ancient and a venerable blade, old in honour, storied in history, a sword the ownership of which the heirs of Nikos and Kommenos had contested. It was a sword that Lady Nikos had gifted Sunset out of that same armoury in which Sunset’s armour would seem too mean to command a place, a sword that had played a part not unremarkable in the history of Mistral itself. Lady Nikos had given Soteria to Sunset that she might use in Pyrrha’s defence, or at the very least to fight at Pyrrha’s side. It was not Sunset’s to take with her into mean, dishonourable exile in … where?

Where did Sunset mean to go next?

She did not know. Her thoughts had carried her no further than the garage, where now, her steps brought her to rapidly catch up with thought. She had intended to get her gun, which she had done, and then go to the garage and get her bike, which she was about to do, because she would have need of transport where she was going.

Except she didn’t actually know where she was going, only that wherever it was, having her bike with her might be advisable.

Except … would it? Would it really? Did that not all depend on where, precisely, she was going to go, a question that had not yet been answered, a question that had, in point of fact, scarcely been asked?

Sunset’s steps slowed, until eventually, they came to a complete halt. Where was she going? Or perhaps the question was, where did she mean to go? Until that question was answered, could she really say yea or nay to whether she needed to have her bike?

Was she going to ride, or try to ride, through the hordes of grimm that General Ironwood said were gathering upon the outskirts of Vale? Did she really—?

No. No, I do not hope for that. Though I have lost much, I do not … for whatever reason, I do not desire to swiftly end in a beowolf’s belly.

Perhaps it is just a sense of the inherent hypocrisy — not that I am inherently opposed to all hypocrisy, but still — of being exiled for saving the lives of my friends and then immediately getting myself killed.

Or perhaps I still have hope.

Or perhaps I am still vain enough to think that life and fate may not be done with me yet.

Or perhaps … perhaps I just don’t want to die.

That was a satisfactory enough explanation; it even had the merit of being — or feeling, at least — true. She did not want to die.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with her life, but she did not want to end it.

But what would she do? Where would she go?

You could go home.

Is that my own thought suggesting that, or Princess Celestia?

Princess Celestia would probably add some term of endearment, but yes, she would remind me that I will always have a home in Equestria, if I wish it.

I could go back, I suppose. There is nothing to stop me, unless you count the possibility that flights are grounded by grimm activity. But that will be cleared up eventually, or at least, one would hope so, and after that, I could get a flight to Atlas, and from there to Canterlot, and from there…

Just a step there through the mirror, and I would be back in Equestria.

Back in Equestria, back on four hooves, back with a horn protruding out of my head; I would never have to worry about grimm or Salem or anything else ever again.

I could find something to do there, no doubt. I would not be a hero there — Twilight and her friends have that covered — but at the same time, I wasn’t much of a hero here, so it’s probably for the best that I wouldn’t need to get involved there. But I could find something to do, with my brains, my magical talents. I could do research. I could become an adventuring explorer like Daring Do. I could … I could do whatever I wanted, and no one would gainsay me. I could do anything. I could make new friends; I am not too old for that.

I’d have to make new friends, seeing as how I’d never hear from or of the old ones again.

Sunset stood, halfway to the garages, and adjusted Sol Invictus where it sat on her shoulder. She kept one hand upon the sling of the rifle, gripping it tightly, perhaps even a little too tightly.

If she went back home, then not only would she never see her friends again — there was a very high chance that she would never see them again anyway — but she would never hear of them again either. Never hear of their deeds, their successes or failures, their fates. She would never read an article or watch an item about Jaune and Pyrrha’s wedding; she would never find out how Penny was getting on at Beacon, never catch word of Blake’s promotions, her rise through the ranks of the Atlesian military. She would never know anything. If she went back to Equestria, if she went back through the mirror, then she would be severing all connection not only with the place where she had lived for years now, but also with the only people she had ever loved who were not named ‘Princess Celestia.’

If she went through the mirror, if she severed that tie, then she would be left to wonder. She would be left to wonder for all that she could do would be to wonder, and Sunset knew that if she put herself in that position, then for as long as she lived, for the rest of her days, she would wonder; she would wonder how they were doing, what had become of them, what victories they had won, whether they were happy.

Whether they were still alive.

If she went back to Equestria, then she would leave a piece of herself behind here in Remnant, a piece of her soul that remained trapped here, unable to depart, and that missing part would eat away at her and feed her dissatisfaction.

If she went back to Equestria, then a part of her mind would be forever turned back towards Remnant, consumed with speculation.

I will never be able to forget.

No. No, I cannot go back. I am sorry, Princess Celestia, but I cannot go back to Equestria. These people, they … they mean too much to me. Though they may not want to see me, though they want nothing to do with me, though they think me now as bad as Cinder, nevertheless, I cannot simply waltz off to another world.

Not like I did before.

Yes. Yes, that was what she had done before, wasn’t it? Failed in Equestria, so gone to Remnant; well, it might be said — and with some truth and justification behind it — that she had failed in Remnant too, but nevertheless, she would not simply respond by going to Equestria as she had once fled to Remnant.

Fleeing to another world had turned out to be the best decision that she’d ever made, but that hadn’t made it a right or good or certainly not a mature decision. She was not that person anymore; she had … she had something to stick around for, if that made any sense at all.

Yes, Ruby had banished her, yes, they had forsaken her, but nevertheless … nevertheless, she was going to stick around. She couldn’t just leave Remnant; she couldn’t just leave them. Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash … though they might not want her around, nevertheless, she would…

Sunset wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do, but she wouldn’t leave this world, with all of them in it, behind. She wouldn’t run away to a different world where her life would be easier. That wasn’t who she was, not now.

What she was, now that she was no longer a huntress — if, as Ruby said, she had ever been a huntress — or a Beacon student, that was something that was harder to decide.

Where did she go from here? She had narrowed it down to going somewhere in Remnant; unfortunately, that didn’t narrow it down very much.

“You could come with me.”

Sunset tried — and largely failed — to stifle a gasp of surprise as she whirled around to see someone standing at her side, about six feet away from her.

She was a tall woman, taller than Sunset herself, about Pyrrha’s height or maybe even a little taller, wearing ornate armour of blood red and black, lamellar in nature, with segmented vambraces and pauldrons covering her arms and shoulders, and a patterned cuirass decorated with … it was hard for Sunset to make out exactly what the decoration was supposed to be. It was like an optical illusion, that looked at one moment like a storm of feathers, and the next managed to like blood spattered over a black background.

Her armour, and her high boots, left only her face and a little of her upper thighs visible, but that was enough to reveal a fair complexion and a face that still retained a youthful aspect, even as the lines of middle age began to encroach upon it.

Though there was little youthful about her eyes. The woman’s eyes were red, a little like Yang’s eyes when she became angry, except that Yang’s eyes, when they turned red, seemed to possess an inner fire behind them. This woman’s eyes were the cold red of shed blood, ebbing out of a dying man. All the youth that remained upon her face seemed banished from those eyes. Tangled necklaces of crimson beads hung from her neck, and she had one hand resting upon the hilt of a large sword that she wore on her hip.

Sunset shuffled backwards a step, one hand beginning to glow green with magic.

The woman, whoever she was, raised the hand that she was not keeping on her sword. “If I’d come here to pick a fight with you, I wouldn’t have startled you with a word; I would have cut you down while you were lost in thoughts.”

“Who are you?” Sunset asked. “What do you want with me? What do you mean, come with you?”

“That last one’s quite obvious, don’t you think?” the woman asked. “As for the first question, my name is Raven. Raven Branwen.” She smirked. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Sunset blinked. “Ra—… you’re Yang’s mother?”

“Summer Rose is Yang’s mother,” Raven said. “I just delivered her, in every sense.”

“That’s…” Sunset trailed off, because as much as it sounded harsh and cold, it was, at the same time, fair enough. As much as the instinct was towards revulsion, it was arguably a healthier attitude to take than to abandon her daughter but then turn up years later seeking to assert some kind of maternal rights over Yang, in defiance of the fact that she had left her to be raised by someone else. It was better, arguably, to say that Summer Rose was Yang’s mother; it was certainly true to say that.

Sunset had never wondered who had delivered her, in every sense. The question had never really entered into her mind. She was aware that she must have been delivered by someone, some mare had made her with the help of some stallion, someone had left her on the steps of the palace, but Sunset had never really asked who they were. There had been another mare in her class, Rosemary, a gifted girl from an orphanage in Canterlot; she had been obsessed with her parents, to the extent it had started to interfere with her grades, she was always doodling pictures of her and her mom in the margins of her homework. Sunset had found it bizarre at the time, and to a great extent, she still found it bizarre. Her mom, if she was still alive, had left her behind. She had dumped her in that orphanage; forget the question of why she would come back for her daughter, the question was why you would even want her to.

Sunset had always been free of such questions, such daydreams. Such cares had never troubled her.

If Raven and Yang could both have come to similar such positions, it would have been for the best for both of them.

Although, if Raven really ceded all rights and relations with Yang, that didn’t explain why she’d shown up during the break when Sunset had been in Alba Longa.

And it certainly didn’t explain what she was doing here now.

“Yang,” Sunset said, “isn’t here.”

“Obviously,” Raven said flatly. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Really?” Sunset muttered, shifting her hand from the strap of her rifle down to her hip. “About what, exactly?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “About the fact that you’ve just been kicked out of Beacon, to all intents and purposes—”

“How do you know—?”

“I know,” Raven declared. “I know that Ruby Rose, every bit as righteous as her mother but without, it seems, so much of her compassion, has disowned you. I know that you won’t be welcomed back into your team any time soon. And, whether or not Ozpin would take your side or Ruby’s side, it’s clear that you’ve decided to leave the school. Just like it’s clear from the way you were standing there woolgathering that you have no idea where to go next. So, I’m offering you a place to go, a place to stay, with me and my tribe.”

“You and your bandit tribe, you mean,” Sunset said. “You and your tribe of cutthroats and desperadoes?”

“Don’t talk like you’re any better than I am,” Raven said, her voice sharpening. Her heels clicked on the stone as she walked a few steps closer to Sunset. “We both know what you are, and more importantly, we both know that if you weren’t a murderer, Ruby wouldn’t have kicked you out, and you wouldn’t be slinking off in the middle of the night.”

“I did—”

“What was necessary, I know,” Raven said. “You did what had to be done, for the good of the group. Unlike Summer’s girl, I don’t see any shame in that.”

That doesn’t exactly take away my shame, to be honest with you, Sunset thought.

“You have my sympathies, for the position you’re in,” Raven went on. “I know, I might be the only person in Remnant who really understands what you’re going through right now. I know very well what it’s like to love those who are so much—”

“Better than you?” Sunset suggested.

She had meant it as a barb, thinking to prick Raven, to get under her skin, even though there was little rational reason for wanting to get under her skin, just a vague irritation at her presence, even at the sympathy that she professed to offer. But, instead of growing irritated by her words, Raven seemed to become … sad. The corners of her mouth turned down, and her head bowed for a moment.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Better than me.” She looked at Sunset. “I know what it’s like to love them, and I know what it’s like to feel as though the very things that make them better than you are what will eventually, inevitably, destroy them. And you’re right. It will destroy Ruby in the end, just as it did her mother.” She paused for a moment. “I know what it’s like to try and protect them anyway, just as I know what it’s like when that divide between you and them, between their virtues and your … when it finally becomes an unbridgeable chasm, and you can’t reach them … and they lose interest in reaching you.”

Is that what happened? Or is that what you tell yourself happened?

“Yes,” Raven said. “I was a lot like you when I was younger. Of course, I didn’t have your … gifts. But, because I understand what it’s like, because I understand what you’re going through better than anyone else, I’d like to offer you an answer to the dilemma that you were pondering earlier.”

“You want me to become a bandit,” Sunset said flatly. “Working for you.”

“And for yourself,” Raven replied. “You’d get your share of the spoils—”

“And do my share of the killing, too?” Sunset asked. She went on before Raven could respond. “Yes, I caused some deaths; I admit that, I’m not going to stand here and deny it, claim that I have any real right to a moral high … high ground. I caused the deaths of those people, and I have to live with the consequences of that, but I’ll tell you this: I didn’t do it so I could steal their stuff!”

Raven was silent for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “No, I suppose you didn’t. And, since we’re being honest, I’m not going to stand here and pretend that what I’m offering you is some sort of wonderful life. I could talk about the marvellous community on offer, the sense of family, but—”

“But if it was all that, you wouldn’t have left your daughter behind,” Sunset murmured.

“Precisely,” Raven agreed. “As I said to you, I knew that Tai, and Summer, would give Yang a better life than I could with the tribe.”

“Did you…?” Sunset hesitated. “Did you know that they would—?”

“I can’t see the future, if that’s what you’re asking,” Raven replied. “But I knew that Summer liked him. The only one who didn’t realise that was Tai himself; everyone else could see it plain as day. But she didn’t have the guts to act on it when we were at school. She just stood there, supporting him, waiting ever so patiently for him to notice her, like a good girl should.”

Raven chuckled. “She told me that she didn’t blame me for making the move when she wouldn’t or couldn’t. Told me that she didn’t hold me getting in her way against me. That didn’t stop me feeling guilty about it. I … hoped that she would step in, once I was out of the way. That way, I could tell myself I was helping them too, not just myself.”

She paused. “I wouldn’t be here, offering this to you, if you had any better offers; there is camaraderie amongst the tribe, there is community, there is a bond we share … but there is also a lot of running from huntsmen and mercenaries hired to stamp us out, a lot of constant moving around, a lot of staying one step ahead of the authorities, and a lot of going hungry because the pickings are lean this season, and you can’t find a target that you can pillage that you didn’t already clear out the year before. Plus, if you’re squeamish, the raiding and the pillaging itself can be off-putting.

“I won’t pretend to you that this is a romantic life, living in the greenwood, robbing from the rich, letting the humble ploughman pass us by. The rich man might have bodyguards, you see, and the ploughman won’t, so we’re more likely to bother him because it’s safe. I wouldn’t be here offering my hand to you if you were still a student here, if you had anywhere else to go. But you don’t have anywhere else to go, do you? You don’t have anyone offering you a hand but me. I could use you, and you need a home, though it be a bad home compared to the ones you’ve known, it beats being all alone in the world, don’t you think?”

“Is that what you told yourself when you went back?” asked Sunset. “That it beat being all alone in the world?”

“Yes,” Raven said simply. “That’s what I told myself.”

“And you may be right,” Sunset admitted. “No doubt, the world is a cold place for the lonely, a fact I may discover to be even more true than I thought I knew before. I may be robbed of all my possessions by a pickpocket to rub my face in the fact that my cushy life is over; I may have to fight with orphans over mouldy food from a garbage can. I may descend into such ignominies as I can scarcely imagine but which will be the terror of me. But, though such fates stand before me, I fancy that I am not yet descended to the point where I consider turning bandit. One must have some standards after all.” And goodness knows what Princess Celestia would say if I were to turn brigand. I can scarcely imagine it.

Actually, no, I can imagine it quite well; I just don’t want to.

I fear that her reproach would be less gentle than she has been wont to address me of late. And I would deserve it too.

“And you,” she added, “should be grateful for my refusal.”

Raven smirked. “And why is that? Because in two months you would usurp leadership of the tribe from me and cut off my head?”

Sunset shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I am not so … I am not minded even to attempt such a thing anymore, and I would probably fail at it if I tried; I was never as good at that sort of thing as I thought I was. No, you should be grateful because … imagine that I joined your tribe, and then imagine the day came when your tribe found itself being opposed by Pyrrha, or Ruby, or my Atlesian friends. In such a circumstance, which side do you think I would be on?”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “You would still side with them? They have betrayed you, banished you, turned their backs on you, and still, you would take their side?”

“Always,” Sunset said.

Raven was silent for a moment. Then she nodded, the corner of her lips curling upwards into a slight but noticeable smile. “You will find, as you say, that the world is a cold and lonely place,” she declared. “And yet, I cannot help but admire your attitude. I hope the coldness and the loneliness doesn’t wear it away.” She bowed her head, if only ever so slightly. “Since you’re leaving this place, I doubt that I shall see you again, but you have … my thanks, for taking care of Summer’s daughter.”

Sunset could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Ruby doesn’t appreciate it very much.” Nor should she, in truth; not according to her lights, at least.

“Maybe not,” Raven said. “But I’m not Ruby, am I? Good luck to you, Sunset Shimmer, wherever the wind takes you.”

She turned away and began to walk off, back straight, her long and wild black hair swaying and bouncing a little behind her as she walked into the darkness and the shadows.

Sunset kept an eye on her for a moment, but she was walking quickly, and Sunset soon lost her in the dark; she would have expected that all of that red she was wearing would have enabled Sunset to track her a little better, at least at first, but she blended so well into the darkness that it was as though she had just disappeared completely.

Not that it mattered; it was as she had said: if she meant Sunset harm, then why spend so much time talking to her beforehand? It made no sense, therefore, the only explanation that made sense was that she meant Sunset no harm.

She had really wanted to extend a hand to Sunset, however strange it might seem.

She really had wanted to offer Sunset a place amongst her bandit tribe.

If that’s the standard of offers that I’m going to get now, I think that’s a pretty good indicator of how far I’ve fallen.

Still, in rejecting it, I have made a decision. I have decided that there are two places where I am not going next: to Equestria, and to a bandit tribe.

Maybe if I stand here 'til morning, I can eliminate my way towards working out where I actually want to go next.

Probably not; morning is too close at hand now.

Where do I go from here?

“Sunset!”

Sunset’s ears pricked up first, then she turned around at the sound of Pyrrha’s voice, slicing through the darkness as smoothly as Miló ever sliced through anything. She turned, and she saw Pyrrha herself coming — not only coming, but running — towards her, her sash flying out behind her as she ran. Amber was with her, following just a step behind, still wearing the dress and cape that she had borrowed from Pyrrha for the carnival, and the borrowed cape, too, trailed out after.

Sunset began to smile at the sight of them, before she remembered that Pyrrha no doubt despised her as much as Ruby did by now, and Amber … it was hard to believe that Amber, gentle Amber of all people, would not feel the same way, unless it was because she did not understand what Sunset had done.

“Pyrrha?” she murmured, wondering why Pyrrha and Amber were here. Her heartbeat quickened a little with anxiety, wondering if Pyrrha had come specifically to tell her what she had not had the chance to tell her in the dorm room. Had Pyrrha decided that she didn’t deserve the chance to slink away quietly?

She hoped it was not that; for Ruby to cast her out was bad enough, but to get the same treatment from Pyrrha…

Sunset felt her hands begin to tremble at the prospect.

Pyrrha, and Amber, came to a stop in front of Sunset. Pyrrha, Sunset saw, had a bag in her hand, a grey Beacon rucksack that she held by the shoulder straps.

Pyrrha’s sash settled down by her side, and Amber’s cape fell down her back.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset swallowed. “Pyrrha,” she said softly.

Pyrrha looked at her for a moment, and then a moment more, moments stretching out in silence, before she let out a little gasp as though she had forgotten something. She hastily held out the rucksack. “You forgot your book. Your journal.”

“My journal!” Sunset cried, seizing the rucksack from out of Pyrrha’s unresisting hands. She opened it up, to find the magic book sitting within, the only thing sitting within, but that one thing was enough. It was quite enough.

Enough to brighten Sunset’s face as she said, “Thank you, Pyrrha, I … I could not bear to leave this behind.”

Though it will enable me to tell Princess Celestia that I have been exposed and disgraced, nevertheless, I am glad to have it with me.

“It’s nothing,” Pyrrha murmured. “Ruby thought that you should have it.”

“Oh, of course she did,” Sunset said. “That … that was very thoughtful of her.” She looked away, turning her eyes towards the ground, unable to meet Pyrrha’s eyes, unable to look upon her face.

Pyrrha, for her part, said nothing more. Sunset could not blame her for that; what was she meant to say? What could she say, now, to the likes of Sunset? What Sunset had done, what Pyrrha now knew that Sunset had done, it raised a wall between them, a wall that no words, however eloquently spoken, could surmount.

“You’re leaving, then?” Amber asked. “You’re really going?”

Sunset swallowed again and ventured to raise her head enough to look on Amber as she replied. “Yes, I am. I doubt that Ruby — or anyone else,” she added, “—wishes my company any longer.”

“That is…” Pyrrha began, but trailed off and did not finish the thought.

“Why should Ruby get to decide that?” Amber demanded. “Who is she, that she should be so cruel? Surely Ozpin—”

“I’m not going to go to Professor Ozpin and ask him to keep me on against Ruby’s will,” Sunset replied. “That would be cruel indeed.”

“But there must be something you can do?” Amber cried. “I mean … Blake’s leaving, isn’t she, she’s going to Atlas? So you could join—”

“I think that Ruby would have as little love for the idea of me joining Team Iron as she would for my remaining a part of Team Sapphire,” Sunset said. “I think … I think that only my departure from Beacon, bag and baggage, will satisfy her, and that alone only because … there is no other punishment that may be inflicted upon me. Anything else would likely drive her from Beacon, and … others besides. I could not do that. I will not do that.”

Amber frowned, accentuating the scars upon her face. “It seems so unfair.”

“'Unfair'?” Sunset repeated. “Hardly. I have deserved worse than this.”

“You saved me,” Amber said. “You saved my life, you brought Dove back to me, and whatever it was that you did … you were only trying to save your friends.”

“And people died because of it,” Sunset said.

“People die all the time,” Amber said. “Death is … it’s all around us, from the trees in the forest, the rabbit killed by the fox, the fox killed by the hunter, the hunter mauled by the bear … there’s so much death that if you wept for all of it. you would run dry as a wrung out cloth before day’s end. So all you can really do is care for the ones you love as best you can. At least, that’s what my mother used to say.”

“A fine thing for a mother to say, but I fear that Ruby feels a huntress should set their sights a little higher,” Sunset murmured. “And she is right.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha murmured too. “And…”

Sunset did not ask her to finish.

“Pyrrha,” Amber said. “Do you really … are you really going to let this happen? Are you really going to just let Sunset leave, to let Ruby send her away?”

“I wish you would not speak thus, Amber,” Pyrrha said. “As though Ruby were the one in the wrong.”

“She’s sending my friend away; she is in the wrong,” said Amber. “Although…”

Sunset frowned a little. “'Although'?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amber said quickly, with a shake of her head.

“As you say,” Sunset whispered. She looked at Pyrrha, she forced herself to look at Pyrrha, Pyrrha whom she would soon be parted from, Pyrrha who might hate her now, Pyrrha whom Sunset would loathe to leave behind, and yet … and yet must leave.

She must go.

I may not be a hero, but the heroic theme yet applies it seems. I must go also, unwilling though I am, though it is not to death but only exile that I go. Yet go I must.

But there are things that I must say before I go, however hard it is to say them.

Not things that she wanted to say, things that she had to say, before she left, things about what Cinder had told them, things about what was or might be going on in Vale.

“Pyrrha—”

Pyrrha held up one hand to forestall her. “If I may,” she said ever so softly.

Sunset hesitated for a second. “Of course.”

Pyrrha did not speak immediately. She glanced downwards towards her own feet, then back up again. “I … I do not — I cannot — condone what you did, down in that tunnel,” she said. “I … we are called to the shepherds of the people, to care for them—”

“Does not the shepherd kill the lambs whenever he grows hungry?” Amber asked.

“Ye— that … that isn’t the point,” Pyrrha said quickly. “The point is, Amber, I say this with love, but this is hard enough without interruptions. I know that you wish to defend Sunset in this, although a part of me wishes that you would not defend her in so … lively a fashion, but please, if I may?”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I just—”

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Sunset has your love, and you would not be parted from her after this fashion.” She paused a moment. “I thought to find you here,” she said. “But I did not think to find you without Soteria.”

“I did not think I had the right to take it,” Sunset replied. “It was given to me by Lady Nikos for a purpose, and I can hardly fulfil that purpose now.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. Again, she took pause a moment. “I cannot approve of what you did, for all that you did it in part for my sake. I am not worth a city, not worth six other lives, no, I am not worth a single life given in sacrifice for my own.”

“I must confess I fear a world without you in it would be a grim, grey, miserable place,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha’s mouth lingered open a second, as her cheeks flushed somewhat. “That,” she said, “is very sweetly said, and yet, for all its sweetness, of very little consequence.” Her brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “I must confess that there have been times when I feared that you were too much of Cinder’s hot blood, and in this respect, I am sad to have been proven right. Is it right that you should be so attached to me, or any other, that you would do such things for our sake?”

“No,” Sunset accepted. “No, it is not, and yet … it is who I am, for good or, yes, for ill. And yet … I would not sound apologetic, I … I should have found another way.”

“And if there was no other way?” Pyrrha asked.

“I would have found one,” Sunset insisted. “Had I but thought to look and not let the situation overbear my wits.”

“And if you had sought, and found another way not?” Pyrrha pressed. “What then?”

“What then indeed,” Sunset replied. “What then, Pyrrha? Would you have had us make a glorious last stand, worthy of remembrance?”

“The time may come when that is all that we may do,” said Pyrrha. “And we should not fear that moment so much that we will dishonour ourselves and do deeds black as this night to avoid it.” She closed her eyes. “And yet…” She opened her eyes once more. “Have you considered that, if you were to wait, Ruby might—?”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, she will not; you know that she will not, not in this.” She hesitated. “And … and you?”

"And I," Pyrrha began, "I … regret that we must part thus. Greatly, I confess, do I regret it, for all I understand why it must, and even should, be so. Yet greatly do I regret it, for you … for you have my love yet."

Sunset's eyes widened, even though a part of her felt they should have narrowed as before unexpectedly blinding sunlight yet still they widened in amazement nonetheless. "I … I have … even still?"

"Always, I think," Pyrrha answered. "If my heart be constant, and though it be fault in me or glory, it is a constant heart, or seems so."

Sunset felt her whole body tremble, as though a sudden weakness had come over her, as though it had been too long since she had eaten and the lack of sugar was catching up with her. "Pyrrha…" She wiped at her eye with one hand. "I do not deserve this."

"I could dispute that, I think, with all that you have done and all that we have been through together. But it matters not, for I offer this not from your deserving," Pyrrha said. "Rather I offer this from … from my constant heart only, only. Your deeds do not erase what we have shared." She paused a moment. "I … where will you go?"

"In truth," Sunset admitted, "I know not."

"You will not go … home, then?" asked Pyrrha.

"No," said Sunset at once. "No, I will not go home. I will not … I will not."

Pyrrha nodded. "Then … see my mother. She will be able to aid you, I have no doubt."

"She may," Sunset allowed. "But would she? I—"

"Have done little, I would suggest, that Mother would greatly disapprove of," Pyrrha said. "You will have her love yet also, or I guess false. And take Soteria with you; it is for my Mother to ask for it back, not for you to forsake the gift. You insult my mother else."

"Well, I should not wish to insult my lady; that would be unforgivable," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha looked for a moment as though she might smile, for all that she had tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I … I would have followed you," she said. "To whatever end, or the end of all things, I would have followed."

Sunset let out a little laugh. "I never wished to lead you to any end; that was my fault."

"And yet your virtue too," Pyrrha said. "And I would have followed nonetheless."

Sunset closed her eyes, even as she wiped at her face with one sleeve. "Pyrrha," she muttered. "Sweet words make a hard parting indeed." She frowned. "You must be on your guard. What Cinder said—"

"You cannot believe what Cinder said," Pyrrha answered, with a glance at Amber.

"Not entirely, no," Sunset allowed, "but I believe in the Siren in Vale, and I am willing to accept that Cinder may not have been Salem's only weapon here. Be on your guard, both of you, please, I beg of you."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "I suppose we should consider the possibility. What of this Siren?"

"I hope Professor Ozpin will start to search for her," Sunset said. "If he does not, prod him about it." She looked at Amber. "Since I probably won't see you again, I can offend you by asking you to look like a friend upon Professor Ozpin; he is no just target for your rancour."

Amber hesitated a moment. "I … I'll think about it."

“Please, do,” Sunset begged. “For my sake, if no other. But, whether you take my advice on that or no … I wish you good fortune, wherever your road or … your road or Professor Ozpin’s decisions take you. I wish you every happiness with Dove, especially. Love is … love is a thing that should endure.”

“I know it is, and I hope it will,” Amber said. “Thank you, Sunset, I … I would wish you luck too, but I do not know your plans.”

“Neither do I,” Sunset said. “So … just wish me luck generally.”

Amber smiled. “Alright. Good luck, Sunset. Wherever and whatever.”

Sunset nodded before she returned her attention back to Pyrrha. What could she say to her? She felt free now to say something, as free as Pyrrha had been with her own feelings, but what? What could she say to encompass all that she felt?

"I should have liked to have led you, also," Sunset said. "I am sorry that I have let you down thus."

"Don't," Pyrrha whispered. "Don't … not now. Speak—"

"Only good things?" Sunset asked. "Are we not beyond that?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but even so," Pyrrha said. "Is this not a sad moment enough without our dwelling in sorrow here at the end? I … I wish you good fortune in all your endeavours."

"And I wish you every happiness," said Sunset. "I … you may not like this, but when you and Jaune are wed, I expect full coverage in all the magazines. I would see the gown that I will not see in person."

"Very well," Pyrrha said. "I will endure it, for your sake."

"Thank you," Sunset said. She paused a moment.

"In … in Equestria," she went on, "to bear the title of princess denotes not blood but … something of accomplishment, grace, virtue, worthy of the highest admiration." She took a breath. "You, too, are my princess."

Pyrrha was silent a moment, eyes fixed on Sunset, saying nothing.

Then she pulled Sunset into an embrace, one hand around her waist, drawing her in, holding her close, the other upon the back of Sunset's head, Pyrrha's fingers amongst Sunset's hair as she pressed Sunset's head against her cheek.

Sunset could feel that cheek against her temple, feel Pyrrha's arm about her waist, feel the warmth of her embrace. It was not something that she wished to leave.

"I will miss you," Pyrrha said, her voice trembling. "I will miss you terribly. Friend of my soul."

Sunset said nothing. She simply lingered in Pyrrha’s embrace. She did not even embrace Pyrrha in turn, her hands were holding onto the Beacon rucksack, and her arms were pinned in place by Pyrrha; she was like a child, receiving comfort without giving in return, being hugged without hugging back. And she lingered thus, feeling Pyrrha’s strong arms, her gentle hands, her face on Sunset’s head.

Tears welled up in Sunset’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ruined everything, and I’m so sorry.”

“No more, Sunset, no more of that,” Pyrrha whispered. “Say only that you will miss me too, and nothing more.”

Sunset sniffed. “Need it be said?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “No,” she said. “No, I suppose not.” She released Sunset from her embrace — Sunset would not have minded if it had continued on a little longer — but kept her hands on Sunset’s shoulders even as she stepped away.

“This has been…” she trailed off.

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, it has, hasn’t it?”

“So where are you going to go?” asked Amber. “To see Pyrrha’s mother?”

“Not now,” Sunset replied. “It is late, and doubtless, my lady is abed; no, tonight I will … I will…”

A single urgent, but not continual, buzz from Sunset’s scroll informed her that she had a message.

How fortuitous.

Pyrrha let her arms fall from Sunset’s shoulders as Sunset slung the backpack with her journal in across one shoulder and got out her scroll.

“It appears,” she said, “that I am going to see Skystar Aris. At least, she has asked to see me.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps … I am not sure why.”

“Neither am I,” Sunset admitted. “This business puts her in the spotlight as much as me, and her mother and Councillor Emerald are … but I am not sure what she would want to say to me.” She paused. “Still, I suppose I will find out soon enough when I go and see her.” She straightened her back and wiped her eyes with one-gloved hand. “Fare you well, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Fare you well, Sunset Shimmer.”

If It Was Me (Rewritten)

If It Was Me

Pyrrha and Amber stood outside the Beacon garages, watching Sunset drive away on her ramshackle bike.

She had Soteria slung across her back alongside Sol Invictus, having gone back to retrieve the venerable weapon, and the Beacon-branded backpack, containing her magic book, sat over both weapons.

Sunset did not look back. As she drove away, onto whatever new path awaited her, she did not turn her head back in Pyrrha's direction.

Pyrrha did not begrudge her that. After all, they had already made their goodbyes, and after a certain point, one was merely dragging things out.

And yet, Pyrrha felt compelled to stay and watch her go.

As she watched Sunset disappear out of sight, trailed by the buzzing engine of her homemade motorcycle, Pyrrha felt Amber slip her hand into Pyrrha's.

"I'll probably never see her again," Amber murmured. "But then … I suppose there was always going to come a point where I never saw her again."

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Although I know Sunset would not have objected if that had come later."

Amber looked at Pyrrha. "Do you think you'll ever see her again?"

"I know not for certain," Pyrrha said. "But I may." She could not resist a slight chuckle. "I may see her again so soon that it renders all this melodrama of our parting seem quite unnecessary frivolity."

"How do you mean?" asked Amber, frowning slightly.

"I mean that if Sunset does go to see my mother, as I have urged, then I can quite easily imagine a world in which Mother offers Sunset…" Pyrrha paused a moment, considering what, precisely, her mother might offer Sunset. The idea of a place in the household was a rather old-fashioned one, for non-domestics, and it was not clear what use Mother would have for a warrior in the normal state of affairs. As a bodyguard, perhaps, but she had never needed one before, and Mother would not insult Sunset by giving her a meaningless sinecure or pointless busywork. "My mother is a woman of wealth and influence in Mistral. Our name of Nikos could open many doors for Sunset there, and I have little doubt that she will offer to open them."

Pyrrha did not know how people in Vale, waking to the accusations against Sunset, would respond to them, but in Mistral, the support of the lady of the House of Nikos would count for something when set against anonymous slanders, or even Sunset’s faunusness. With her mother's support, and after her good showings in the tournament, Sunset could probably find a place in the Imperial Guard if she so wished.

If she so wished. Pyrrha did not think that Sunset quite knew what she wished at this point.

But she need not live a lonely and circumscribed existence, if she wished it otherwise.

"So," Amber said softly. "Why … what Sunset did is so horrible that Ruby can't stand to be in the same school as her, but your mother will help Sunset find something to do now? I … I don't understand. Is what Sunset did bad or not?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "Yes, Amber, it is, but—"

"But you don't hate Sunset for it, the way that Ruby does," said Amber.

"I am not sure I would say that Ruby hates Sunset," responded Pyrrha. "Rather…" She gathered her thoughts, marshalling them so that she could explain this in a way that made sense. "Six people died because of what Sunset did. Including our own fellow student Sky Lark. We … should not forget that. Ruby, certainly, does not forget that. I, for my part, I know that what Sunset did was wrong, and yet, that knowledge is not enough to erase the great affection that I have for her, the sorrow that I feel at our parting." She wiped at her cheek with one gloved hand, smearing the tears across her face. "Mine own affection is stronger than my sense of principle. Though I recognise the wrong, it does not smother what I already felt." Pyrrha paused. "But for Ruby, it is different. Ruby is not ruled by the passions of her heart as Sunset is and I can be. For Ruby, nothing matters more than to live as a huntress should, obedient to the code and values that guide and drive a huntress on: to live for others, not for oneself; to defend the helpless even to one's last breath."

“To live as a huntress should,” Amber repeated. “Even if that costs her life.”

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said.

"And that is not what is in her heart?" asked Amber.

“I … when put like that, I suppose I must concede it is,” admitted Pyrrha. “And yet, it feels less … I suppose that, given Sunset and I have both treated her as though she lacks sense, I can hardly complain at you suggesting that Ruby, too, is ruled by her heart, but in the present circumstances … she seems to be more in her senses than I feel. Did you not see how she…? She did not rage at Sunset, she did not yell or shout or scream—”

“Like Jaune did,” murmured Amber.

Pyrrha looked down at her feet, clasping her hands together. “Yes,” she whispered. “As Jaune did.” Jaune had his cause for anger, that was certain; it made Pyrrha feel a little guilty that she was not angry herself. She could only hope that he would not hold her lack of fury against her. “Jaune has his reasons to be angry with Sunset. An old friend of his, Miranda Wells, she was not amongst the fallen, but a friend of hers was. Poor Miranda has not been the same because of it, and to find that Sunset was responsible … I do not blame him. I only hope that he does not…”

“And you?” Amber asked. “You don’t blame Sunset?”

“What good would it do?” replied Pyrrha. “I am not sure it is even possible for any of us to blame Sunset more than she already blames herself. I think that Ruby feels the same way; that is why — as I was saying — she was not at all angry with Sunset—”

“She seemed cold to me,” Amber said. “Cold and cruel and rather heartless.”

“You do her wrong,” Pyrrha said sharply. “You do her … gravely wrong. I thought you liked Ruby?”

“I like Ruby well enough,” Amber said. “Or at least, I did. But … I like Sunset more. Sunset saved my life.”

And cost others their lives, Pyrrha thought, and could not help but treacherously wonder if Sunset would have lifted a finger to save Amber if Professor Ozpin had not suggested the aura transfer.

Sunset would never have known about Amber were it not for Professor Ozpin’s suggestion of the aura transfer.

But still, as a hypothetical…

I am sure that she would. Sunset … whatever Sunset did, she is not a monster. She made a mistake, driven by instinct and by love, but she is also not someone to simply ignore others because she can, or because it doesn’t affect her.

She went to Councillor Aris — former Councillor Aris — precisely because she wanted to help, even though nobody would have known if she had not — and much trouble would have been avoided.

There is a certain irony there, that Sunset has been undone because in a generous moment of charity, she exposed her most ungenerous and least charitable moment.

But she would have helped Amber, had she known, I’m sure.

“Your heart is your own, of course,” Pyrrha said softly. “But nevertheless, Ruby did what she thought was right, and as much as I hate to see Sunset go, to say goodbye, to part like this, nevertheless, I understand why Ruby sent her away. She was” — it was a hard thing for Pyrrha to say that it had been right for Ruby to do so; it felt so treacherous to someone who had done so much for her. But, nevertheless, it had to be said, for Ruby’s sake — “right to say that Sunset did not display the virtues required of a huntress. And I do not believe that she took any pleasure in it. In fact, I believe it hurt her, for all that she hid it well. My point, — what was my point? — my point is that Ruby does not deserve censure for her actions or for the spirit in which she undertook them. She has acted as best she could in the circumstances.”

“Assuming that the virtues of a huntress are the right ones,” Amber said.

“For a huntress, they are so,” Pyrrha interjected. “Older and wiser heads than ours have pronounced it to be thus, and who are we to question them, young as we are?” And that was why … that was why Sunset had to leave.

“Assuming that the virtues of a huntress are the right ones,” Amber repeated, sounding very unconvinced, “Sunset did what she did for your sake, to save all of you, including Ruby, and for that, Ruby turns her away, says she doesn’t know her, despises her? You say that she acted without cruelty, but was that not a cruel thing to say? Even if Ruby thought Sunset deserved that, it didn’t mean that she had to say it or that Sunset had to hear it. And…”

“You think that Sunset did the right thing?” Pyrrha asked carefully, keeping her voice free of any judgement so that Amber would feel freer to speak her mind.

“Does not your mother feel that way?” asked Amber. “Isn’t that why you told Sunset to go and see her? You say that Sunset did this horrible thing, this terrible thing, this thing that gave Ruby no choice but to turn her back upon Sunset, and then you send her to your mother who will help her with your name and your wealth? Surely, what Sunset did was wrong, or it was not?”

“There is a third choice, which is that not everyone agrees that what is wrong is wrong or vice versa,” Pyrrha said. “Professor Ozpin would judge himself more leniently than you, or even I, and my mother will, I think, judge Sunset far less harshly than Ruby has.”

“Why?”

“Because my mother is not a huntress, nor was she one, nor did she ever wish to be one,” Pyrrha answered. “My mother is a patrician of Mistral to the bone, and she … she loves me, after her fashion, for all that we have had our … differences in the past. I think, I fear, I believe, I must admit that she will likely think the risk to Vale, or even the loss of life, to be of little consequence compared with my survival.”

Amber was quiet for a moment. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Pyrrha was very much afeared that she was going to announce that she agreed with Pyrrha’s mother, which Pyrrha would rather she kept to herself, if it was all the same to Amber. Even if she thought it, Pyrrha would rather not know that she thought it.

“So when you insist that what Sunset did was wrong,” Amber said, “are you saying it because you believe it, or because you’re afraid that actually you agree with your mother?”

“Amber!” Pyrrha cried. “How can you … that is … why would you even say something like that?”

“I’m sorry,” said Amber. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me,” Pyrrha said stiffly, and with a little bruising audible in her voice. “I was just … surprised, that’s all.”

“I’m still sorry,” Amber insisted. “It’s just that…” She looked away, and with one hand, she gripped at the hem of her light green cape, fussing with it, playing with it, tugging on it until the cape was halfway draped around her body like an old-fashioned toga. “You know, there have been times when I’ve been in awe of your bravery. Times when I’ve been astonished and amazed by how courageous you all were. Just tonight, when you faced Cinder the way you did, even though you could see how powerful she was, even though she could have killed you.”

“It was nothing,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“No,” Amber said. “No, it was … it was everything, or it seemed like it was at the time; it was … and that’s not the only time either, when I’ve thought about what you do, and what you’re willing to do, and … I’ve felt like such a coward by comparison to you.”

“If all men were brave, none could boast of their valour,” Pyrrha said, citing the incontestable authority of The Mistraliad.

Her namesake, refusing to rebuke those warriors fleeing the battlefield, had gone on to add, ‘And as I would be known as a most valiant prince, as the most valiant warrior who ever bore arms, I am glad that there are cowards yet, even amongst the great-hearted Danaians, that my courage may shine all the brighter by comparison.’ Needless to say, Pyrrha did not quote that part.

Rather, she went on to say, “And now you do not feel the same way, I take it?”

“I still feel as though you are brave,” Amber declared. “I could not deny the proof of it before my eyes tonight. But, at the same time, if this is courage, if this is valour, if this is what it means to be brave, then … then I am glad that I’m not brave and that I never pretended that I was. Jaune was there with you, wasn’t he?”

Pyrrha felt with a creeping sense of dread stealing over her that she knew where this was leading. She nodded stiffly. “Y-yes,” she admitted. “Yes, he was—”

“Aren’t you glad that he survived?” Amber asked. “Aren’t you glad that he lived on, with you, thanks to Sunset?”

“That,” Pyrrha said, “is not the point.”

“Is it not?” asked Amber, dubiously.

“No,” Pyrrha said quickly. “No, it isn’t.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I cannot say that I wish Jaune … I cannot say that I wish any harm on Jaune, you will not hear me say it, the words would stick in my throat if I tried, and my throat would rather let me choke upon them then let them pass my lips where anyone might hear them. It is not for me to put a worth upon Jaune’s life, or Ruby’s life, or the lives of Rainbow Dash or Blake or their friend Applejack. But at the same time, it is not for me, or Sunset, to say that any of our lives are worth the lives of anyone living in Vale today, still less a kingdom. That is not my choice to make, and it was not Sunset’s choice to make either, for all that she made it nevertheless.”

“But—”

“Please, Amber,” Pyrrha half-cried, her voice becoming higher pitched and a little more shrill for all that it grew no louder. “Please … I do not wish to…” Now that Amber had spoken thus, her mind was filled with visions of Jaune’s death: he reached out for her, and yet, she could not help him; he cried out in pain; he wept as they devoured him; he cursed Pyrrha for not keeping him safe, for not sending him away from danger but rather leading him into it; he died bravely, but all his bravery counted for nothing at the end as his blue eyes, empty and dead and devoid of the light that made them so wonderful to look upon, gazed upwards as they left his head for last. “I do not wish to think on this. I beg of you, have pity on me. These visions that you conjure with your words have sharp fangs.”

“Alright,” Amber said, her voice becoming ever so gentle, as gentle as the breeze that was lacking tonight, the air being so still and placid. Her voice was as gentle as her hands, as she reached out and took Pyrrha’s hands in her own. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I promise. I just wanted to understand, because this … it all seems so sudden to me.”

“It is sudden to me too,” Pyrrha said, with a sigh in her voice. “And you are still so new to us, and to all of this, that I suppose I can’t blame you for being confused. But all the same, there are some things that I would very much rather not think about.” And yet, now that Amber had planted the thought, she could not banish them again so easily. “Jaune was … Jaune was on the train with me, yes, but Dove was in the city. Had fortune been less good to Dove, had fate decreed it otherwise, it might have been he, not his teammate Sky, who … counts that for nothing?”

“If things were different, I might think differently,” Amber admitted. “But isn’t that how it is with everyone?”

It took Pyrrha a moment to realise what Amber was saying. “No,” she murmured. “No, I don’t think they do. Not all. Not Ruby, certainly.”

“You mean she always thinks the same thing, regardless of what’s going on.”

“I mean that she is driven by the good of the people above all else,” Pyrrha said. “Above kingdom, or love, or … all else.”

“And is that … good?”

“It is very rare,” Pyrrha answered. “And, being exceedingly rare, is probably very desirable.”

“I do not desire it,” Amber replied. “Ruby … her courage awes me, I must admit, but, at the same time, it terrifies me a little.”

“Ruby,” Penny asked, raising one hand tentatively.

“You don’t need to raise your hand, Penny,” Ruby said, without looking at her. Ruby’s eyes were fixed on the wall, where Sunset had been standing.

She had scarcely moved at all since Sunset left; even after Pyrrha had taken Sunset’s book and left with Amber, she had still been standing there, looking at that wall.

Jaune wondered why that was; it was honestly starting to freak him out just a little bit.

Maybe … maybe Ruby wasn’t holding it together as well as she was pretending to? Maybe she was afraid that if she moved, then she’d break? But why? Who was she pretending to hold it together for?

Maybe she just hadn’t found a reason to move yet.

If that made sense.

“Oh, right,” Penny said, softly lowering her hand. “But, still … why did you send Pyrrha out with Sunset’s book? You could have caught up with Sunset much faster with your semblance.”

“Because Pyrrha cares about Sunset,” Ruby replied, her voice firm but soft at the same time. “Even still, she cares about Sunset, and she deserves the chance to say a proper goodbye if she wants to, without feeling rushed or ashamed or embarrassed by us being here. I don’t want to see that. I don’t ever want to see Sunset again, but if Pyrrha wants to get it all out, then that’s fine with me. That’s why I asked Pyrrha to do it, so that she didn’t have to feel like she couldn’t go after her, or feel bad because she did.”

“Oh,” Penny said. She hesitated. “I would have…”

Ruby turned her head ever so slightly, to look at Penny over her shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” Penny said. “It doesn’t matter.”

You would have liked to say goodbye to Sunset too, huh? Jaune thought. I mean, you could just say so. Isn’t that the lesson here, from what Ruby just said? That she doesn’t mind if you still like Sunset, if you want to say goodbye to Sunset, if you still think of Sunset as your best friend, then that’s all okay with Ruby, just so long as Sunset isn’t here, and Ruby doesn’t have to look at her.

So say something, Penny; just say that you want to go and say goodbye to Sunset as well, and Ruby won’t stop you.

As for himself, Jaune wasn’t interested in saying goodbye to Sunset. To be honest, he was a little more preoccupied in trying to work out how he felt about the fact that Pyrrha, as Ruby had said, still cared about Sunset.

Of course, before he could understand that, then he needed to work out how he felt about Sunset.

Sunset, who had gotten Miranda’s friend killed and wounded Miranda.

Sunset, who had done that to save their lives.

What she’d done was wrong. There was no denying that, no arguing it, but at the same time … the alternative was pretty tough to imagine. When she had stood there, and talked about why she did it … yes, it had been easy to feel angry, to feel furious, to feel betrayed that their friend, their leader, someone they trusted had done something like that, had hurt his friend like that.

But then, when Ruby had challenged Sunset to speak in her own defence…

“I could not lose you. I … just couldn’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

Put like that … it didn’t make it right, for sure, but there was a reason why everyone — except Ruby — had kind of deflated at that moment, why Jaune had been certain that Penny had been about to reach out to Sunset, to touch her shoulder or hug her or something, only to be get scared off by … by Ruby’s disapproval, probably, although it seemed as though she needn’t have been — needn’t be — so scared.

“I could not lose you.”

Put like that, it was hard to be angry at Sunset, no matter the wrong that she had done.

“You mean everything to me.”

It was possible to look at someone standing in front of you saying ‘I did the wrong thing because I care about you’ and reply that it was still the wrong thing.

It was harder, a lot harder, to hate them for doing it, no matter the consequences of their actions.

Yes, what Sunset did had been wrong, and it was awful what it had done to Miranda, but when you heard her explain…

When you thought about the consequences if she’d made the other choice…

“You mean everything to me.”

Pyrrha meant everything to him too, and the thought of her being ripped apart by grimm … it wasn’t something that he wanted to think about.

Just because Sunset had made the wrong choice didn’t mean that he was saying it was easy to make the right choice, that’s all he was saying.

So, although he didn’t feel the need to say goodbye to Sunset himself, it wasn’t because he was so disgusted with her that he couldn’t look at her without wanting to do violence, and it didn’t mean that he was going to get upset at Pyrrha if she wanted to speak to Sunset one last time. He knew how close they were.

And while Sunset deserved for Ruby to kick her out — probably — after what she’d done, she also deserved to get a chance to say a proper goodbye to her best friend.

It was just kind of a pity that it didn’t seem like Penny had the nerve to ask for the same opportunity.

Jaune supposed he couldn’t blame her too much, Ruby was being … kinda intimidating at the moment.

“So,” Penny murmured, her voice trembling a little bit, “you’re okay with the fact that Pyrrha doesn’t hate Sunset, even though you do?”

“I don’t hate Sunset, Penny,” Ruby said.

“You said you despised her,” Penny pointed out.

“Yeah,” Ruby said softly. “Yeah, I know I did, but that … that doesn’t mean I hate her. It doesn’t mean that I … I know that a lot of things would have been a lot worse without Sunset around. We wouldn’t have had Amber back, or we might have lost Pyrrha, or … there are some things that I just can’t forgive, but that doesn’t mean that I hate Sunset or that I expect everyone else to hate her either.”

“I … I see,” Penny murmured.

“I think,” Blake said, “that you’ve been very kind, to Pyrrha at least. A little sneaky and underhanded, perhaps, but kind all the same.”

“'Kind,'” Ruby repeated, her voice dull. “'Kind'? I … thanks, Blake. That wasn’t something I was expecting to hear, but I appreciate it.”

“You do realise,” Rainbow said, “that when people find out that Sunset’s gone, she’s going to look guilty as sin?”

“Sunset is guilty,” Ruby reminded her. “If she looks guilty because of what she’s done, some would say that’s a good thing.”

Jaune frowned. “But what about Councillor Emerald, didn’t you say—?”

“I’m not employed by Councillor Emerald to make him look good or to cover up his mistakes,” Ruby declared. “I don’t want to cause a panic, so I’m not going to go running around Vale telling everyone I can find the truth, but I’m not going to help him or Professor Ozpin bury the truth either, especially if it means that I have to choke on letting Sunset soil this place. I’m sure the First Councillor can find some way to make everything seem okay.”

“That … that doesn’t sound like something you say about someone you don’t hate,” Penny murmured.

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I’ve answered that already, Penny,” she said softly. “I don’t want to answer it again.”

Penny bowed her head a little, and hunched her shoulders down, and cringed a bit. “Oh,” she said. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Ruby sighed. “No, Penny, I’m sorry, it’s … it’s okay. I shouldn’t have … it’s been a long night, that’s all, and this is … it’s a lot for you, I know, but it isn’t nothing for me either. All the same, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Penny said, in a very soft voice. She paused for a second. “So … who’s going to lead Team Sapphire now?”

“I will,” said Ruby. “Pyrrha doesn’t have the strength to make the hard decisions, and Jaune…” Now, at last, she looked at Jaune. Her expression was not as apologetic as he might have expected. “No offence, Jaune,” she said, “but—”

“Don’t worry,” Jaune told her. “I get it. I’m not exactly team leader material.”

“Without meaning to suggest that you are not the right choice, Ruby,” Ciel said, “it seems to me that this is a choice that should be made by Professor Ozpin, rather than treating the leadership of the team like a crown that you may pick up off the floor once you have knocked if off of Sunset’s head.”

Blake glanced at her. “Did you just suggest that the leadership of a team is more valuable than a crown?”

“You’re right, Ciel,” Ruby said. “I don’t have the right to just make myself the leader. I guess that I probably don’t have the right to send Sunset away either, but I had to do that, it was the least that she deserved and the least that I could stand. But as for who leads the team, you’re right, that’s Professor Ozpin’s decision. I need to go and see Professor Ozpin anyway.”

“To tell him what you have done?” asked Ciel.

“To find out why he kept this secret,” Ruby replied. “He knew. That’s what Sunset said, he knew what she’d done, he knew for almost as long as Councillor Emerald. The First Councillor is one thing, but Professor Ozpin? He’s a huntsman, he is the huntsman, and yet, he let Sunset get away with betraying everything that a huntsman or huntress is supposed to stand for? He found out that she had spat on everything that a huntress is supposed to be, and he let her carry on attending this school, leading this team?” She glanced at Jaune. “Maybe Amber was right about him, Amber and you and Pyrrha. It certainly makes a lot of sense now why Sunset was always defending him. Of course she defended him; he’d defended her. They’re all as bad as—” She cut herself off. “I need to talk to him,” she said, her voice calmer again. “Now.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Pyrrha to come back?” asked Penny. “I mean, don’t we need to talk about what Cinder said to Pyrrha and … to Pyrrha?”

“You can say her name, Penny,” Rainbow said. “Sunset. She didn’t get erased like those unpersons in Mantle before the War.”

“She’s right,” Ruby added. “You can say her name, if you want to. As for waiting, or what Cinder said … I’m sure Cinder said plenty. I’m not so sure that any of it was any use at all. She probably talked a lot about how wonderful she is and flattered Pyrrha and Sunset and … we don’t need to hear all of that. We do — I do — need to talk to Professor Ozpin.”

Penny nodded. “I understand,” she said. “In that case … can I come with you?”

Jaune’s eyebrows rose. Penny wanted to go with Ruby? Based on the way that she’d been acting, he wouldn’t have expected that she wanted to spend any time alone with Ruby.

Ruby hesitated, maybe because she was surprised as well. “Okay,” she said softly, after a moment had passed. “Okay, you can come with me. Let’s…” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go. I don’t want to wait around.”

She strode towards the door, leaving Penny to follow behind her as quickly as she could. Ruby flung the door open and walked out into the corridor without another word. Penny lingered in the doorway for a second, giving a half-hearted-looking wave to everyone that was still in the room, before she followed Ruby out.

As the door closed, it was as though Ruby and Penny had taken all the sound in the dorm room with them too, because it was silent — dead silent, if that wasn’t something too unfortunate to think about — in their absence.

Rainbow Dash looked down the line of Twilight, Ciel, and Blake. “We should probably be going too,” she said. “Unless there’s anything else?”

“No,” Jaune said, with a shake of his head. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about, and think about.”

“You could say that,” Ciel murmured. “Blake, will you indulge us by—?”

“I’ll come with you, of course,” Blake said. “I don’t know where Yang is, but I don’t want to disturb Ren and Nora. I might crash on the floor of your room, if that’s okay?”

“The floor?” Rainbow repeated. “Take Penny’s bed; I’m sure she won’t mind.” Rainbow nodded in Jaune’s direction. “Goodnight, Jaune, Dove.”

Dove didn’t say anything, just as he hadn’t said anything all night, a fact that Jaune was only now realising. So much had happened that Dove’s silence had allowed him to fade into the background, but now, with the room a lot emptier than it had been, Jaune was starting to notice him again.

And to notice that he hadn’t said a word.

The Atlesians — and Blake, if that needed to be clarified — trooped out of the room, and Dove’s quiet was even more noticeable now that Jaune was alone with him.

He still didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at Jaune; his focus was on the camp bed that Sunset had been sleeping on, having given up her bed to Amber.

“If nobody’s using that,” Dove said, pointing at the camp bed, “would you all mind if I crashed here tonight? Lyra’s probably in bed by now, and I don’t want to disturb her by crashing into their room — our room. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not leave Amber … I’d rather not leave Amber.”

“Uh,” Jaune stumbled over his words, caught by surprise that that was what Dove wanted to talk about, after what he’d heard. “I guess. I mean, we don’t have a team leader to tell you no, so … sure.” The only reason to say no to Dove was so that they could talk about stuff he didn’t know about yet, like Salem, but since Ruby had dismissed the idea that Cinder had any intelligence worth listening to, Jaune guessed that that wasn’t going to happen. In which case, reasons to kick Dove out were … nonexistant, as far as he could tell.

And if they needed to talk, then they could always ask him to give them some privacy.

It wasn’t like he was going to be sleeping there permanently, after all.

“Thank you,” Dove said. “If Ruby or Pyrrha has any objection—”

“Can I just say?” Jaune said, holding up one hand. “Can I just say that you’re being really, kind of weirdly calm about all of this, considering… considering that Sunset is the reason Sky died?”

“Sky died because of the grimm and because he was a brave man,” Dove declared, raising his head. “To say that it was all because of Sunset like that, it … it insults him and his memory.”

“I didn’t mean that; I just meant…” Jaune trailed off for a second. “I guess I’m surprised, is all.”

Dove frowned and drummed his fingertips on the desk behind him. “I suppose,” he glanced at Jaune. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Jaune replied. “I mean … you’re not going to tell me that you did something terrible as well, are you?”

Dove let out a strained laugh. Jaune supposed that it had been in pretty poor taste; he just didn’t want to get burdened with that kind of secret, you know.

Dove paused for a second, before he said, “No. No, it isn’t anything like that; it’s just … there is someone that I blame for Sky’s death, to be honest, and it isn’t Sunset. Yes, Sky was brave, braver than he was skilled, to be perfectly honest with you, and I’m not going to deny him all the agency in his own … he made his choice, to fight for Vale, and I respect that. But it doesn’t stop me blaming Bon Bon for what happened.”

“'Bon Bon'?” Jaune repeated. “You … you blame Bon Bon?” He blamed Bon Bon? Jaune could hardly believe the words that he’d just heard come out of Dove’s mouth, especially when coupled with the fact that he didn’t blame Sunset, especially in light of what he — Dove — had just heard. “But … you’re friends!”

“You and Sunset were friends,” Dove pointed out. “Ruby and Sunset were friends, and now look.”

“That is true,” Jaune allowed, “but unless I missed something really big, you never called Bon Bon out in front of a crowd and told her that you’d never known her at all and you held her in contempt.”

“And then said that I didn’t hate her afterwards,” Dove muttered.

“Let’s … let’s just leave that for a second, okay?” Jaune asked. “Let’s stay on track. You blame Bon Bon?”

“She doesn’t know it,” Dove told him. “And I’d rather that she didn’t find out — that’s why I asked if you could keep a secret — but, yes, I blame Bon Bon for Sky’s death.”

Jaune frowned. “But … why?”

“Because she led us there,” Dove declared. “She led us down to that square, where all the grimm came pouring out, and for what? At least Sunset had a reason for what she did.”

“Yeah, she did,” Jaune accepted. “But Bon Bon … had a reason too, right? I mean, she was trying to help?”

“Was she?”

“I don’t know, wasn’t she?” asked Jaune. “You were with her.”

“Yes,” Dove said softly. “Yes, I was with her. Me and Lyra and Sky were all with her. That’s why I blame her, and that’s why I can’t forgive her and—”

“Why are you keeping this to yourself?” asked Jaune. “Or should I be asking why you’re telling me?”

“I’m telling you so you understand why I don’t seem as … affected by this as you expect,” Dove said. “I mean, I’m sure that part of it has something to do with the fact that I don’t know Sunset as well as you do, so I don’t feel as betrayed.” He paused. “Or perhaps it’s the fact that Sunset brought Amber back to me, and there is nothing in the whole world she could do that would undo my gratitude for that. Does that sound terrible?”

“Honestly? No,” Jaune said. “Maybe it ought to, I don’t know, I’m not the smartest guy in this team, but I don’t think so. She’s the love of your life, right?”

The corners of Dove’s mouth turned upwards. “Right,” he agreed. “I’m glad you see it that way, seeing as you were the one who told me to make Amber my highest good and priority in the first place.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” Jaune replied, scratching the back of his head with one hand. “I mean, when I said that … it feels like there should probably be some limits.”

“Do you know where those limits are?” asked Dove.

“Probably somewhere around a whole kingdom,” murmured Jaune.

“'A whole kingdom,'” Dove repeated softly. He looked up, past Jaune and out the window. “How much do you know about the knights of Vale?” Dove asked. “Olivia, Percy, that kind of thing?”

“Not a lot,” Jaune admitted, a little thrown by the change of subject. Perhaps Dove just didn’t want to talk about the Breach anymore and was looking for a subject to take his mind off things. “Only what Ruby tells me. Why?”

“Olivia was the greatest of King Edward’s paladins,” Dove declared. “But her pride got herself and her followers killed. Percy was in love with Prince Tristan, and even though he was engaged to a princess from another kingdom, even though that marriage would seal an alliance that would bring peace and unite the kingdoms, still, they put their love ahead of everything, and war and tyranny resulted. Derfel, Owain, Nimue, I could go on and on … they were all heroes, mighty and brave and, for the most part, noble as well, but all of them erred. All of them had moments where they succumbed to their pride, or their desires, or their … or their fear. They all erred; they all fell.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “I feel like there’s a point here, but—”

“My point is,” Dove said, “that if those legendary heroes could make such colossal mistakes with such huge consequences, great as they were … what chance do ordinary guys like us have, or even Sunset?”

Jaune’s mouth worked without speaking for a second or two. “That,” he said. “I mean, I get your point, and it’s fair enough, but at the same time … what are you trying to say? They were still the wrong choices, just like Sunset made the wrong choice.”

“I’m not sure what I’m trying to say,” Dove admitted. “Except perhaps that I’m glad that I’ve given up on heroism. Certainly, I’m glad that I wasn’t in that tunnel with you. All my envy of you, all my jealousy, that’s all … all been driven out of me now. If it hadn’t been already, it certainly would have been after hearing about what Sunset had to choose down there. Can I … can I burden you with another secret?”

“You’re not sure that you wouldn’t have done the same thing, are you?” Jaune asked.

“I think if Amber had been on the train, I would have absolutely done what Sunset did,” Dove murmured.

“Because she means everything to you,” Jaune whispered, although those who would object the most to hearing this were far away, and wouldn’t hear them even if they shouted.

Dove nodded. “And … you?” he asked. “If you’d been in Sunset’s position, and you had had to…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to; Jaune knew what he was asking: whether he would have had the … whether he would have been able, physically or morally or anything else, to condemn Pyrrha to death by his inaction.

He didn’t even want to imagine it. They very thought made his skin crawl, and worse.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, in a voice even more quiet than it had been a moment before. “I’m afraid not.”

“'Afraid'?” Dove repeated, in a whisper that seemed almost conspiratorial to Jaune. The fact that he took a couple of steps closer didn’t make him seem any less conspiratorial. “Afraid that you’d choose the love of your life over—”

“Over a whole city full of people?” Jaune asked. “Kind of afraid, yeah.”

“Like I said, that’s why I’m glad that I gave up on heroism,” said Dove. “I also gave up on having to feel guilty about choices like that. But remember what I said, even the greatest knights—”

“Made bad choices, right,” said Jaune. But it doesn’t make them good choices just because they were made by heroes. He changed the subject. “So, why don’t you want Bon Bon to know that you—?”

“Hold her responsible?” Dove asked.

Jaune nodded. “I mean, I’ll keep your secret, but I don’t really get why.”

“Because…” Dove trailed off. “I suppose,” he went on, speaking slowly, as though he were only thinking a couple of words ahead, “that I don’t want her to freeze me out of her decisions because she thinks, because she knows, that I won’t be onboard with it, or with her. I suppose I want to know what she’s thinking so that if she has another bad idea like the one that led us down to the Breach, I can be ready for it. And for that, I need her to trust me still, for a little while longer.”

“That sounds … not good for a team,” Jaune said. “And that’s putting it mildly.”

“But you won’t say anything, will you?” asked Dove.

“No,” Jaune replied. “No, I won’t. I said that I wouldn’t, and … it isn’t good for the team, but I suppose that you won’t be a team for very much longer anyway, will you?”

“No,” Dove said softly. “No, we won’t.”

“And I guess Team Sapphire is hardly in a position to lecture anyone about what a functioning team looks like,” Jaune went on. “So I’ll keep your secret, for the little time left that it matters.”

“Thank you,” Dove murmured. “For the little time left that it matters before…”

“Before it’s just you and Amber,” Jaune said.

“Before it’s just me and Amber,” Dove repeated. “That is, if it isn’t already.”

Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight were all silent until they got back to the Atlesian dorm room and the door was shut after them.

That was just fine by Blake. It gave her time to think on the way.

It gave her time to think about what she had just learned, of course, about what Sunset had done, about what would become of Team SAPR — or whatever their new name was — without Sunset, but it also gave her time to think about Rainbow Dash.

About the way in which she hadn’t seemed very surprised when Ruby made her accusations against Sunset. Everyone else had been shocked, first because of what Ruby was saying and then again when Sunset confirmed that, no, it was all true. But Rainbow Dash hadn’t seemed so shocked by any of it. In fact, she had leapt to Sunset’s defence with a remarkable alacrity.

And Blake could not help but remember that Rainbow had been the second one to reach the front of the train. Sunset had teleported on ahead, and then Rainbow had followed on after, using her wings to fly through the tunnel to the front of the train while the rest of them fought their way down the roof the hard way.

You knew about this, didn’t you?

You knew … and you said nothing.

Rainbow’s silence both was and was not surprising to Blake; it was a little surprising, considering that most people seemed to feel that Sunset had crossed a line, considering how Ruby had reacted, how even Pyrrha had reacted, that Rainbow Dash — who was certainly not as close to Sunset as Pyrrha was — had agreed to condone the action by her silence. On the other hand, when one considered what kind of person Rainbow Dash was, as opposed to what kind of person Pyrrha was or certainly what kind of person Ruby was … then it became much, much easier to understand.

Just as Ruby had found it easy to believe that Sunset would have caused the Breach, once the idea had been planted in her mind, so, too, Blake found it easy to believe that Rainbow could have known what Sunset had done and decided to keep it to herself. Indeed, it was easier to imagine that than it was to imagine her doing anything else. Turning Sunset in, denouncing her, condemning her, casting her out as Ruby had done? No, that wasn’t Rainbow’s style.

I suppose that she did kind of do that to me when she found out about my past, although I ran away before she could get around to the official denouncing.

But Rainbow has … mellowed a lot since then, and I think that what happened between us is a large part of why she wouldn’t do anything like that again.

So, in a way, that would make this my fault.

If, indeed, it is a fault.

That was on Blake’s mind as well, because once she had decided, or at least come to a reasonably sure assumption, that Rainbow had covered up Sunset’s action, then she had to decide if that constituted any sort of fault on Rainbow’s part.

She supposed that, logically, she ought to start by asking if what Sunset had done constituted a fault in her eyes, according to her lights. Well, yes. Yes, was the answer to that, and a pretty easy answer too, considering that what Sunset had done had been to enable Adam’s plan to risk an entire kingdom, and she had done so without the excuse that she was trying to strike a blow against monstrous evil.

No, she was just trying to save the ones she loved.

That doesn’t make it okay.

No, but some might say that it makes it more sympathetic than doing it to make a political statement.

The characters in my trashy books might say that, sure, but there’s a reason why I can refer to them as ‘trash.’

Blake was not one to turn her nose up at an engaging page turner in which some soppy drip swooned, her bosom heaving and her heart aflutter, as some rugged and tormented soul committed a massacre on her behalf — there was nothing wrong with indulging harmless fantasies, after all, and there was something rather appealing about the idea of a love so strong it broke all bonds of morality — but that didn’t mean that she wanted to become such a person, any more than her possession of a copy of A Mistralian Country Dungeon meant that she wanted Sun to break out the whips and chains.

It turned out that the problem with a love strong enough to break all bonds in real life was that it … broke all bonds, and you couldn’t just forget the consequences by turning the page.

What Sunset had done … what Sunset had caused … what Sunset had put at risk … that was at once easy to believe and hard to comprehend.

And it was wrong. Ruby was right about that. The punishment that she had decreed seemed hard, but then the crime itself deserved a hard punishment. Their lives … they had been better as bones down in that tunnel than risked all of Vale.

And Rainbow had known about it.

Sunset had crossed a line, and Rainbow had known about it.

And in the knowing, it turned out, she joined a list that included the headmaster of Beacon Academy and the First Councillor of Vale. Which meant … one could say that it didn’t change the morality of any of it, but one could also say that it was pretty harsh to say that Rainbow Dash had done something heinous when that same act had been committed by two of the most powerful men in the kingdom.

One might even call it downright racist, to blame the relatively powerless faunus for things that powerful men did with impunity, were Councillor Emerald not a faunus himself.

Then again, Sienna Khan would probably say that Councillor Emerald has deracinated himself, which would mean it could still be racist.

I probably shouldn’t still be agreeing with … no, no, I can still agree with her on some things; she wasn’t wrong about absolutely everything.

But I probably shouldn’t agree with her when it comes to just declaring that faunus who don’t toe the White Fang line aren’t real faunus in some way or another; that would disqualify Rainbow Dash as well.

And anyway, it isn’t the point. The point is … if Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald can know what Sunset did and keep it quiet, why can’t Rainbow Dash? Why does she have obligations that they don’t? Because Councillor Emerald isn’t a huntress? But Professor Ozpin is a huntsman. If he thought that it ought to be kept quiet, why can’t Rainbow do the same?

Because she isn’t as powerful as Professor Ozpin, because she doesn’t occupy his exalted position?

Surely, that puts more of an onus on him to act properly, rather than her.

And that’s without even considering the possibility that Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald and Rainbow Dash are right, and the whole business ought to have been kept quiet, and Ruby is the one in the wrong for shining a light on what was previously comfortably veiled in shadow.

That both was and was not a comfortable thought. Yes, things could live in the shadows; Blake had lived there for a time, and the faunus had been surviving there for years, but they had always craved the light, envied the light, been willing to fight and suffer and die to obtain the light. Nobody who dwelt in shadow loved it there, or even liked it.

Sunset probably wasn’t enjoying keeping a secret like this.

But there were some things that could only live in shadow; the light destroyed them, or opened them up to destruction absent the protection of the dark.

Most of the examples of such things that Blake could think of were none too savoury, like the White Fang, but was it not possible that there might be things that could only live in darkness that nevertheless deserved life?

Possible, yes, but in this case? If we are talking of deserving of life—

We’re not talking about Sunset’s actions here; we’re talking about the cover up. Yes, what Sunset did was wrong, but did it have to come out? Was Rainbow Dash obliged to drag it out into the light, any more than Professor Ozpin?

Was even Professor Ozpin obliged to drag it out?

“That was … unexpected,” Twilight said, as the RSPT dorm room door shut behind them.

“Quite,” Ciel said, in a clipped tone.

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose, and sighed as she settled down on her bed. “I feel … sorry for her. Sunset, I mean.”

“Because of her fate?” Ciel asked.

“No,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, kind of, actually … it must be awful to have that happen to you. To feel so much, to care so much, and then … to have all of that thrown back at you, to have backs turned on you. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.”

“She is not some blameless victim in all of this,” Ciel pointed out. “She bought it on herself.”

“I know,” Twilight admitted. “But … to think about what that must have been like for her, in the cab of that train, with that choice to make.” She paused. “Of all the things that Cinder has done, I think that must be the most sadistic by a long way.”

“She tried to kill you,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Yes, she did,” Twilight replied. “But … well, okay, that was kind of sadistic, but it wasn’t like that. Giving Sunset a choice between her friends and the whole of Vale, what kind of … that’s monstrous, don’t you think? How is anyone supposed to make that kind of choice?”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose.

Twilight glanced at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, unapologetically. “Would you have really found it easy? Would you have just remembered a piece of holy scripture and that would have made it alright?”

“Considering that everyone involved is a heathen, I am unsure how helpful a strict reading of the holy writ would be in that situation,” Ciel admitted, “but a less literal reading would remind me that all men are created by God in his own image.”

“And that would have made it easy?” Twilight asked.

“To sacrifice Team Sapphire for the greater good? Yes,” Ciel replied immediately. “And even Blake and Rainbow Dash also. No offence.”

The corners of Blake’s lips twitched upwards. “None taken.”

Rainbow shrugged her shoulders.

“But if it had been Neon?” Twilight asked. “Or your family, or Penny?”

“You sound like an ethics question,” Ciel said, her voice sharpening a little. “Next you will be asking me about a doctor trapped in a fire with my grandmother.”

“And you sound like you’re dodging the question,” Twilight pointed out. “I’m not arguing that there isn’t a right or wrong answer—”

“Are you not?”

“No,” Twilight replied.

Blake wasn’t sure whether she believed her wholly or not.

Twilight went on, “I’m just saying that it’s not the easy decision that you’re making it out to be. Applejack was on that train.”

“And Applejack’s life is worth so much?” asked Ciel. “It is worth Vale?”

“I don’t know the people living in Vale,” Twilight said, her own voice growing claws of its own to match Ciel’s. “I know Apple Bloom and Granny Smith and Big Macintosh, and I’m glad I’m not the one who had to tell her that their sister and granddaughter wasn’t coming home! Because she was buried in some tunnel in the middle of nowhere!” She leapt up off her bed. “There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

Ciel took a step back. Rainbow Dash, who had had her back to the pair of them, now turned around, although she didn’t move any closer to Ciel.

“It … is a good thing that you are not a huntress,” Ciel murmured.

“On that, we can agree,” Twilight replied.

Ciel pursed her lips together. “And … and if it had been Applejack in the city, instead of on the train?”

Twilight began, “That—”

“Is a fair question,” Rainbow said, softly spoken but cutting over Twilight nonetheless.

“Then what is the answer?” asked Ciel, courteously enough.

“Am I still on the train or is it someone else?” asked Rainbow.

“Does it matter?” replied Ciel.

“I think so, yeah,” Rainbow said. “Because … so long as this other person, Sunset say, or anyone else, so long as they had done what we did, and gotten word back to the General that there was an attack coming, with time to set up like they had … that’s job done. That was our job done: we were sent into Mountain Glenn on a reconnaissance and rescue mission, and we completed both objectives by the time we got Applejack out of that storage shed, and you and Penny were on your way back to Vale. Once the mission objectives were complete … once that person on the train had gotten word to us of the impending attack … I wouldn’t have any grounds to object if they focussed on extracting themselves after that. I don’t have the right to demand that anyone die for me and mine, I won’t do it. I … won’t demand that anyone … force that feeling onto someone else.”

“And if Applejack had died regardless?” asked Ciel.

“Then that would be on me, not them,” Rainbow said, her voice unshaking.

Ciel was silent for a moment. “And … of course, that answer presupposes that it was not you on the train, but Sunset still, or another. If it had been you on the train, regardless?”

“With hindsight, I wouldn’t have gotten on the train in the first place,” Rainbow said.

“That is not an answer.”

“Okay then, the answer is that I wouldn’t push the button, but I wouldn’t stop anyone else from pushing it either,” Rainbow said. “And I would trust the General, and in our comrades, and in our troops, to handle the situation, as they did. We only have one life to give, Ciel, so if you’re going to give it, you’d better be sure there’s nothing better you could do with it first.”

“One can never know that for sure, so it is a recipe for never giving one’s life on the grounds that some greater purpose for it might yet turn up,” Ciel murmured. “Which I suspect might be the point, all things considered.”

“The point,” said Rainbow Dash, “is that sometimes, there is an hour to play and the last man in and then you have to play up and play the game, but otherwise … it’s for a ribboned coat.”

“Or the—”

“I wouldn’t use that word,” Rainbow said, before Ciel could go on. “But … you’ve got my answer; you can make what you like of it.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I suppose,” she said softly, “that I cannot accuse you of being inconstant in your convictions. And I must concede that you come by it honestly enough. There are times when lives have been thrown away pointlessly, for little purpose or reward, I do not deny it. I would not agree with your assessment of the situation, but … as I say, you come by it honestly.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to agree with what Sunset did,” Blake murmured, “but I understand, I think we can all understand, why she did it. Sunset loves them. I might even include myself and Rainbow Dash and say that she loves us too. She … Sunset loves too much, perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still love.”

“That does not make her choice acceptable,” Ciel said.

“No,” Blake agreed, “but it does make it understandable. We all have people we love, people who are dear to us; perhaps they’re in this room, perhaps they’re somewhere else, but they exist. Faced with that choice … I would have left that trigger well alone, or at least, I’d like to think I would. But I won’t sit here and tell you so righteously that it wouldn’t have hurt me to do it. And for my part, I would have been very glad that I didn’t have to be the one to break the bad news to Apple Bloom, or Scootaloo, or Pinkie, or Rarity for that matter. One of the advantages of dying myself down there, I suppose.”

“Don’t,” Rainbow said, her voice dropping into the conversation with all the weight of the bombs that the Atlesians had dropped on the Breach. “Don’t talk like that, don’t joke about it, it’s not funny. It’s especially not funny coming from you.” She pointed at Blake. “You’ve gotten a little better, but … it’s still not funny.”

“I feel as though I’ve gotten a lot better,” Blake said, a tad defensively.

“Yes,” Rainbow agreed. “Yes, you have, a whole lot. I don’t worry about you the same way that I used to. It’s still not funny, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Blake said softly.

“And as for all of the rest of this,” — Rainbow waved her fingers in a circle to encompass them — “I stand by what I said in the Sapphire room: there’s no way Cinder would have actually left the choice in Sunset’s hands. If Sunset hadn’t pulled the trigger, Cinder would have done it herself.”

“But Sunset did pull the trigger,” Ciel pointed out. “By her own admission.”

“And because of that…” Rainbow trailed off for a second. “You can only sacrifice your life once. For the cause, for the kingdom, for the flag of Atlas, for the glory of the fleet, for the Lady of the North, whatever it is that moves you, you can still only do it once. Because, at the risk of stating the obvious, once you do, you’re dead, and you can’t do it again. Maybe … I guess, if you’re going to go out, going out keeping a whole kingdom safe is a pretty way to go, if you think that you will keep that kingdom safe, because if not … there’s at least a possibility that all Sunset would have done by her other choice is make the tally of the Breach twelve dead instead of six. And without Sunset, Amber dies. Without Blake and I, Leaf ends up stuck in that slave camp with everyone else, and Calliope Fearny continues on her merry way. Without Blake and I, Weiss and Flash have to try and stop the kidnappings in Low Town by herself, and maybe they don’t manage it. You can’t know, when you make a choice, how it’s all going to turn out; you can’t know for certain that it’s all going to turn out for the best. You might sacrifice your life, full of zeal and passion and righteousness … and all that happens is that you break someone’s heart.”

Ciel pursed her lips together. “I … you have my sympathies, of course, but that is not a licence to endanger lives. Nor does it acknowledge the fact that, if Cinder detonated the mine—”

“So you admit that she would have?” asked Rainbow Dash, with an edge of triumph in her voice.

“So you admit that Sunset could have done the right thing with no consequence?” Ciel replied. “That train would have soared out of the tunnel, and Sunset would have had a clean conscience these past months.”

“Are we really going to stand here and condemn Sunset?” Twilight asked. “We, of all people?”

Ciel blinked. “What do you mean, ‘we of all people’?”

Rainbow frowned.

“I mean,” Twilight began, but then paused afterwards. She glanced at Blake. “I…” She licked her lips. “Blake, I say this with no malice and a lot of love, but … we have forgiven you for a lot more.”

“Twilight!” Rainbow squawked.

“Well … I said that I don’t mean this as a slight against Blake or anything, but it’s true, isn’t it?” asked Twilight.

“Yes, it’s true, but that doesn’t mean that you should say it!” Rainbow cried. “Especially not to Blake’s face!”

“Would it be preferable to say it behind her back?” asked Ciel dryly.

“No!” Rainbow snapped. “It—”

“Rainbow Dash,” Blake murmured. “It’s … you don’t need to … Twilight has the right to say so.” She paused, a sigh escaping from between her. “Honestly, it isn’t something that I’d thought about myself, but now that Twilight has brought it up … at this point, I’d love to say something like ‘the time that I’ve spent with you has been so wonderful, and so real, that my time spent with the White Fang seems like it was only a dream by comparison.’ But that would be a lie; my time with the White Fang still feels real to me, and I think that it always will.” She hesitated. “During the course of my time with the White Fang, as an operative, and a leader, I tried to minimise casualties: get in, get out, complete the objective with minimal fuss; a victory is the enemy never knowing we were there. Nevertheless, I … I took lives with my own hands, people died in missions that I led or took part in, and … well, you could counter Rainbow’s consequentialist argument with one about the consequences of the things that I did, the repercussions—”

“You don’t need to defend yourself,” Rainbow said. “Not here, not to us, not ever to anyone.” The corner of her lip rose up a little. “Don’t make me go get your mother to give you a good talking to.”

“Not funny,” Blake said sharply. “But … thanks anyway.” She drew a breath. “But Twilight asks why you can all forgive me, but you can’t forgive Sunset, and now that she’s asked the question … what’s the answer?”

“The answer is that you did not spend the last year spying on us for the White Fang only to now tell us that your change of heart, feigned before, was in fact genuine,” Ciel said. “You were a good person when we met you, and the fault was ours for not realising that sooner.”

“Harsh,” Rainbow said. “Are you saying that Sunset isn’t a good person?”

“I am saying,” Ciel replied, “that Sunset did not do this thing under a different flag, a different coat, a different … anything. Blake has left the White Fang, and we are all decided that she — that you — deserve a fresh start, with your deeds considered only as though you were a newborn. Or as though, as you said, your time with the White Fang was a mere dream, and only your time in our company has been real. But Sunset … it is harder to separate because she did the thing while she was here.”

“So it’s about timing?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” Ciel said. “Or do you think I would be so forgiving if you had passed information from us on to the White Fang this year?”

“No,” Blake said. “No, I don’t think you would. That … thank you, Ciel, that makes me feel … a little better, for all that your argument doesn’t entirely convince me—”

“Please don’t tell me you heard an argument for forgiving Sunset and took from it that you shouldn’t forgive yourself,” Rainbow said.

“No,” Blake said, “I didn’t. I’m just … I’m not sure it’s fair to say that Sunset betrayed anyone either, on that analogy.”

“She has betrayed the values of a huntress, has she not?” asked Ciel.

“What are the values of a huntress, and why do they give anyone the right to decide who lives or who dies?” asked Twilight.

“Is that not what Sunset did?” replied Ciel.

“No, Sunset left the decision up to chance,” Twilight declared. “In spite of what Sunset did, there was no guarantee that Rainbow, Blake, Applejack, or anyone else would have made it out of that battle alive. Out of the tunnel, yes—”

“Not even then,” Rainbow pointed out. “There was a nasty grimm down there that was giving us some real trouble before Ruby’s silver eyes went off.”

“Yes, exactly,” Twilight said. “Sunset didn’t push a button, get everyone to safety but put six innocent people down in that tunnel instead; the fact that everyone survived is because of luck and fighting skill, and the fact that six people died is … very bad luck that a hole in the net opened up the way it did. I just don’t think it’s fair to talk to Sunset, or about Sunset, as though she chose to make this big sacrifice as though what she did determined anything. The only thing that Sunset did was refuse to take six lives, seven if you count her own. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Sunset did not condemn any to death with malice aforethought, no, anymore than, admittedly, she saved the lives of those down in the tunnel,” Ciel said. “In that sense, you are correct; some of the words flung at her have been … imprecise. But I will be precise then and say that Sunset endangered lives, out of carelessness but nevertheless, and I am quite comfortable in calling that wrong on her part. That may only rise to the level of Reckless Endangerment and Involuntary Manslaughter, but nevertheless, it is a crime. Or do we excuse the driver who did not mean to run somebody over? If the worst that has happened to Sunset is that she has suffered some harsh language, then she should think herself fortunate.”

“And what will Team Sapphire suffer without Sunset?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “Kicking Sunset out isn’t going to bring anybody back … but it might just put someone in the ground, and for what?”

“For … for the limits that there must be, if drawn at some extremes, or else…” Ciel paused. “Or else civilisation crumbles. We must accept constraints if our lives are to be anything more than nasty, brutish, and short, and there must be consequences if those constraints are breached. And Sunset has breached them. And having breached them, who can trust her not to breach them again? And what happens to a team without trust?”

But has Rainbow breached them? Blake wondered. Is keeping the secret that someone else did something the same as doing the thing?

Is keeping the same secret being kept by the First Councillor of Vale and the Headmaster of Beacon a breach of the constraints at all?

Probably not, actually. I mean, to accept Ciel’s argument, the next question is, who is drawing the limits? Why, political leaders and civic authority figures, the very people who knew what Sunset did and decided it was best to keep quiet about it.

So, since they decided that there wasn’t really anything to say, who am I to decide that there is anything to say about Rainbow Dash deciding that there was nothing to say?

Now, Blake could admit to herself that there was an element of motivated reasoning there — after all, she’d been willing to defy the decisions of elected officials and civic leaders when she thought they were wrong, but … she didn’t think they were wrong.

She didn’t want to think they were wrong.

She didn’t think that they were wrong, and it wasn’t just because of her friendship with Rainbow; it was also because Rainbow made a point: exiling Sunset wouldn’t undo any of the damage she’d done; it just prevented her from helping in situations where she could help.

Situations where she might, as with the whole deal with Pyrrha and Amber, be the only one who could help.

Ruby might decide — had decided, evidently — that she could live with that, but Rainbow had chosen otherwise, and Blake wasn’t going to condemn her for that choice.

Blake couldn’t say whether she would have made the same decision in Rainbow’s place. It wasn’t something that she wanted to examine too closely.

Except that Rainbow’s secret was safe with her, so, in a way, Blake supposed that actually her choice in that situation was pretty plain.

Considering that she’d just made it.

“You know, you don’t have to come with me, Penny,” Ruby said, as the two of them made their way past the statue of the huntsman and huntress. Ruby stopped there for a moment, her head turning towards the statue, looking up at the huntsman with his sword, standing heroically above the snarling beowolf.

The epitome of what it meant to be a huntsman.

The embodiment of all that Sunset had betrayed.

Penny stopped too, and like Ruby, she looked up at the statue that loomed over them. “Are you … are you saying that you want me to go?” she asked.

“No,” Ruby said quickly. “No, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying … that you don’t have to come with, if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” Penny said, softly but firmly at the same time. “Why do you think there are two of them?”

“Huh?”

“The statue,” Penny said, as she gestured towards it with one hand. “Why do you think there are two of them?”

Ruby stared at the statue for a moment, the huntsman with his sword, the huntress with her axe standing a little behind him, almost hidden in his shadow. She’d never really thought about it before, but the placement of it was kind of odd, the way that you didn’t really notice the huntress at first. It wasn’t that she hadn’t realised that the huntress was there, but it was always the huntsman that drew the eye, and then after him, the beowolf beneath. You looked to the huntsman with his sword, with his heroic pose, with the way that he almost looked like he was stepping on the beowolf. You almost didn’t notice the huntress at all, and when you did, it was just as someone who was … just there. Just standing there, with her axe; it sounded stupid to say that she looked like she was just hanging out, but that was almost what it looked like.

“I … I don’t know,” she admitted. “Because … because this is a school for huntsmen and huntresses, and the huntresses aren’t supposed to feel left out?”

“I don’t think that’s why,” Penny said. “I think it’s because we’re not supposed to be alone, because even the greatest hero needs someone to stand at their side, and watch their back, and just be there for them.” She smiled. “I don’t think you should be alone either, Ruby.”

Ruby didn’t feel much like smiling right now, but she made an effort anyway and managed to get a corner of one side of her mouth up just a little bit, which was … something. “Thanks, Penny,” she murmured. “I appreciate that.”

She turned away from the statue — and whatever it did or might represent — and resumed her journey towards the tower, drawn by the green lights that burned at the top.

Professor Ozpin would still be there, she was sure; he might still be with General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch and Uncle Qrow, discussing Cinder and the attack on Vale that might come soon.

She didn’t care if she did have company. They deserved to know what he had done, what kind of man he was. Maybe Pyrrha and Jaune had been right not to trust him, maybe—

Maybe Sunset had been right about that too, before Ozpin bought her loyalty with his silence.

How could you do such a thing? How could you tolerate knowing what she’d done?

If there was one thing that made Ruby hesitate about bringing up the subject in front of others, it was the fear that they — that Uncle Qrow especially — wouldn’t care. That they would be as fine with keeping it a secret as Professor Ozpin had been. She would rather break up his whole inner circle than have that happen; she would rather that they turn away from him in disgust rather than nod sagely and agree that he had been right all along.

Except … except that that wouldn’t be very good for Vale, would it?

Ruby frowned. She didn’t want to think about that. Mostly because she knew that that particular thought was correct; Professor Ozpin was needed. Beacon needed him, Vale needed him, the fight against Salem needed him; he was their leader in the great war between life and death, light and darkness—

But he chose to shelter someone who had brought death to Vale.

Ruby didn’t understand how he could do that, but at the same time … she didn’t want to leave Vale exposed herself; if she brought down Professor Ozpin, if she left Beacon leaderless and Vale vulnerable to attack just so that she could feel better, then was she really any better than Sunset?

Yes! Yes, I am better than Sunset, I would never put anyone’s life at risk just to save my own skin — or that of a friend.

But would I put anyone’s life at risk so I could feel like the wicked had been punished and all’s right with the world?

That was the point, wasn’t it? If Ruby yelled out Ozpin’s secret, what he had known about Sunset, and then General Ironwood turned away, or Professor Goodwitch, or Uncle Qrow, or all of them … then Vale might suffer. People might suffer. People might die because nobody was listening to Professor Ozpin, though he was the wisest man amongst them and knew what to do.

If he is so wise, then why didn’t he do the right thing?

That was an uncomfortable question, and the only thing that was mitigating the discomfort at the moment was the hope that Professor Ozpin would have a good explanation for her, an explanation that would square the circle and offer up a rationale that didn’t destroy her faith in the headmaster’s righteousness.

She should probably let him give that explanation before she started running her mouth to other people.

No, she wouldn’t accuse him in front of Uncle Qrow or the others. If they were there, then she would hang back and ask to speak to Professor Ozpin privately, and make clear that she wasn’t leaving until she got her private conversation.

“What are you thinking?” asked Penny.

“I was just thinking about how I want to handle this,” Ruby said. “How I want to approach Ozpin, what I want to say, and when and in front of who.”

“Ozpin?” Penny repeated. “You mean Professor Ozpin?”

“Well, yeah,” Ruby replied. “Who else would I mean?”

Penny frowned. “I’ve noticed that people only call him Ozpin when they don’t like him very much. Like Amber. When people like him, they show him respect by calling him Professor Ozpin.”

“That’s … not always true,” Ruby replied. “Sunset always called him Professor Ozpin.”

“That’s because Sunset was a proper young lady that way,” Penny said. “Is, I mean, not was. Since she’s not dead, after all.”

No, just dead to me. “Is that why Pyrrha went back to calling him Professor Ozpin, do you think?” asked Ruby. “Because she got less mad at him, or because she’s a proper young lady too?”

Penny considered that for a moment. “Could it be both?”

“Maybe,” Ruby replied. She paused for a second. “I don’t dislike Oz— Professor Ozpin yet. I’m just … disappointed, right now. That’s why I’m giving him a chance to explain himself.”

“You don’t think he should have kept what Sunset did a secret,” Penny said. It was a statement, not a question.

“No,” Ruby agreed. “No, I don’t.”

“So what do you think he should have done instead?” asked Penny.

“I…” Ruby hesitated. “He should have done what I did, at least. I can see that maybe, or not even maybe, I suppose once he found out that Councillor Emerald knew and was keeping the whole thing a secret, then sure, I can accept that it would have been difficult to punish Sunset the way that she deserves, to reveal the truth about what she did, without causing trouble and maybe panicking people. But he should have still kicked Sunset out of Beacon; he should have told us the truth. I hope he has a good reason why he didn’t.”

“Punished the way she deserves?” Penny repeated. “What do you mean by that, Ruby? What punishment do you think that Sunset deserves?”

“A lot more than being kicked out of this school,” Ruby declared, a touch of venom sneaking into her voice. “I’d like to … I’d like to break her sword in half and shave off all her hair and hang a sign around her neck telling everyone exactly what she’d done and make her march around Beacon so that everyone can read it and know what she did!”

“That sounds awful!” Penny protested.

“No, what Sunset did is awful!” Ruby cried. “What Sunset did, and what Professor Ozpin covered up, that’s what’s awful! What I said … even that would be justice, but it would be better than letting her walk away like I’ve had to.”

Penny blinked. “I don’t understand,” she murmured. “You say that you don’t hate Sunset, but then you say that you want to do all of that to her, but at the same time, you let Pyrrha say goodbye because you know how much Sunset means to her, and Pyrrha to Sunset, and it doesn’t bother you that Pyrrha still feels that way. And you gave Sunset her book, when you could have destroyed it or kept it or … anything other than what you did. I … don’t understand.”

Ruby let out a kind of laugh, one in which bitterness mingled with weariness like eggs and flour in a cake batter, turning to a sort of mush in which neither of them was recognisable. “I guess it is pretty complicated, Penny. It’s so complicated that I don’t really know how to explain it to you. I guess…” She hesitated. “Maybe a part of me does hate Sunset. Hates her for lying to me, for pretending, for… a part of me that wishes that I’d never met her.”

Penny stopped walking and was silent for a moment. “Do you want a hug?”

Ruby stopped too, looking back at Penny at first before she looked down. “No, Penny, that’s okay.”

“Oh,” Penny said softly. “Alright.”

Ruby hesitated. “Well, I mean … if you wouldn’t mind.”

Penny smiled and put her hands upon Ruby’s shoulders to draw her in, then guiding Ruby’s head until it was resting upon Penny’s shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, Ruby,” she said. “I’m here for you.”

“I know, Penny,” Ruby said softly. “Thank you, for that.” She paused. “I really didn’t do any of what I’ve done because of how I feel. I meant that. It’s not about me. It’s about Sunset and about a measure of justice.”

“I know that too,” Penny assured her. “You’ve always done what you thought was right.”

“And I hope I always will,” Ruby said.

“Mm-hmm,” Penny agreed. “You’re such a strong person, Ruby, much stronger than I am.”

“I don’t know about that, Penny,” said Ruby.

“I think you are,” Penny murmured. “Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.”

“And you won’t be mad?”

Ruby blinked. “You’re going to tell me that, if you’d been in Sunset’s place, you couldn’t have done it, or not done it, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Penny admitted. “I really don’t know. You mean everything to me too. That’s what I mean, when I say you’re a stronger person than I am.”

Or maybe it means that you’re more human than I am, Penny, Ruby thought, because … because it was sometimes hard to remain sure that you were right when it seemed like everyone was insisting that you were wrong.

I am right. I am.

Penny ran her fingers through Ruby’s short hair, ruffling it on the back of her head. “So do you know what you’re going to say to Professor Ozpin?”

“I … I’m going to ask to speak to him alone,” Ruby said. “And then I’m going to tell him that Sunset’s gone, that I know everything, and then … I’m going to ask him why he did it.”

And hope he has an answer that satisfies me.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: Another completely written chapter, preserving mostly the sentiments but in different conversations, with the whole chapter altered so that instead of all talking to one another each character speaks to an interlocutor outside of the core team: Pyrrha to Amber, Jaune to Dove, Ruby to Penny. The exception being the Atlesians and Blake, who still talk to one another in their scene.

Compromised (New)

Compromised

Ozpin’s office was dark. What light there was to illuminate the space was a sickly-looking fluorescent green, the lights that burned above — the lights that gave Beacon its name, if any did — leaking downwards through the windows to reach them here within.

Ozpin sat behind his desk, hands clasped together in front of him, elbows resting upon the transparent surface, half-masking his face from view. It combined with the lighting to give him a rather sinister aspect, although he didn’t deserve it.

Much.

That was a hard thought, and Ironwood knew it, but he also knew that he didn’t think that this business around Miss Shimmer was so easily dismissed as Oz and the First Councillor had made it out to be back in the police station. Yes, Miss Nikos had also been the victim of false accusations, but those accusations had been a lot vaguer than these ones, and based on nothing substantial besides.

The accusations against Miss Nikos had basically amounted to pointing out that she and Cinder Fall had occasionally been in somewhat proximity to one another and then saying ‘what if there’s something going on between them?’ The accusations against Miss Shimmer were rather more concrete.

All Skystar Aris would have to do to put the whole thing to bed would be to say that she had never seen any such meeting as she had described between Miss Shimmer, First Councillor Emerald, and former First Councillor Aris. And perhaps she would do just that.

But then why make up such a specific accusation in the first place, if it could be so easily denied?

It didn’t add up to him.

Just like it didn’t add up why Ozpin was so quick to dismiss the whole thing.

Mind you, I covered for a former White Fang terrorist and now she’s one of the people I trust the most, so who am I to talk?

Oz had his reasons for what he did, and Ironwood tried to remember that when he couldn’t understand those reasons - or bring himself to agree with them.

Ironwood stood on Oz’s left, with Glynda standing on the right, both a little ahead of him, facing his desk rather than standing around it.

None of them spoke. Ozpin seemed to be waiting for Qrow to join them, and neither Ironwood nor Glynda were kicking things off themselves.

Ironwood clasped his hands together behind his back and remained quite still. He glanced at Glynda, trying to discern in her eyes, in her expression, if she found Ozpin’s behaviour over Miss Shimmer as odd as he did.

She gave him precious little to work with. Her face was a mask of professionalism, the kind of face that she used to mask her feelings from the students. He couldn’t work out what she was thinking underneath the mask.

Just like he couldn’t work out what was keeping Qrow; didn’t he know that it was urgent?

The chiming of the elevator sounded louder than it should have done in the quiet chamber, a second before the door opened and Qrow staggered out.

“Okay, I’m here,” he said. “What did I miss?”

“Qrow,” Glynda growled.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, sheesh,” Qrow muttered as he walked towards Ozpin’s desk.

“So,” he went on, “Ruby’s team leader turned out to be a second Raven, huh? Or worse.”

Ozpin took a deep breath. His voice, when it came, had an edge of frustration to it, like the blades of a saw. “As Miss Shimmer has not yet deserted Beacon or our cause in order to dwell in wilderness exile as a bandit, I’m not inclined to make too much of the comparison.”

“And Raven never left the whole of Vale exposed to a grimm attack, but you get what I’m saying, right?” Qrow said. “The moment I set eyes on her, I knew. I knew that she was—”

“That she was what, Qrow?” Ozpin demanded.

“Professor—”

“That she was what, Qrow?” Ozpin repeated over Glynda’s objection.

Qrow thrust his hands into his pockets. “You know what, Oz. You know damn well, what. Unreliable. Didn’t have what it takes. A weak reed. Just like Raven. You should never have brought her in on this, and you definitely shouldn’t have made her team leader. You should have made Ruby the leader, like her mom.”

“That’s one of the reasons I didn’t make Miss Rose the leader of Team Sapphire,” Ozpin murmured.

“Leaving that aside,” Ironwood said quickly, before they could get sidetracked; they had enough to discuss tonight without rehashing a past many years gone, “we should talk about what happened tonight.”

“A lot happened tonight,” Ozpin murmured.

“You know what I mean, Oz,” Ironwood said.

“Yes, James, I know, just as I know that we have many other, more urgent, matters to discuss before morning,” Ozpin replied.

Ironwood began. “More urgent than—”

“Yes, much more urgent!” Ozpin snapped.

Ironwood’s eyebrows rose. To hear Ozpin raise his voice was … when was the last time he had heard Ozpin raise his voice?

Ozpin did not look at him. He did not look at Ironwood, or at any of them; he looked past them instead, over Qrow’s shoulder to some indeterminate point.

“I understand that there are times when you have doubts about me,” Ozpin said. “There are times when I welcome your doubts and misgivings, your arguments; I have never claimed to be infallible. But I hope that I retain your confidence sufficiently that you will believe me when I say that Miss Shimmer is not Raven, nor is she the weak reed that you suppose. She is … I have faith in her, and I ask that you have faith in me also. There is nothing to be concerned about from Miss Shimmer; she is not a danger of which we must be wary, she is … she has made mistakes, yes, but she has also done good service. We all owe her a great debt.”

“Are you sure that that debt isn’t clouding your judgement, Oz?” Qrow asked. “I get that she saved Amber, but—”

“That would be a strange thing for a servant of Salem to do,” Glynda pointed out. “If she were an agent of our enemy, then she might pretend to be trying to help Amber, but would she not kill her in the process and ensure that the power passed to Miss Fall, before it could be transferred to Miss Nikos or another new host?”

“She doesn’t have to be working for the enemy,” Qrow said. “Raven wasn’t.”

“We can’t view the present entirely through the prism of the past,” Glynda pointed out. “As much as we may want to see these children as echoes of ourselves when we were younger, we do them a disservice in the process, and we do all those who depend on us a disservice if we allow such misconceptions to impact our planning for the future. We must look at Miss Shimmer for who she is, not as a young Raven, or as a new Raven, not as someone who must or is doomed to tread in Raven’s footsteps. There is no Raven here, neither Miss Shimmer nor Miss Xiao Long.”

“But Qrow is right to say that she doesn’t have to be working for Salem,” Ironwood pointed out. “According to that leaked email, Miss Shimmer didn’t blow the Breach because she wanted to bring down Vale, but because she was scared of losing her teammates down in that tunnel.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Qrow began.

“And I am saying,” Ozpin said firmly, “that … if you really wish to discuss this, then we will. But later. It is not the most significant thing to happen tonight. Not by some distance. Miss Fall had much news, some of it obvious balderdash, but some of it … some of it concerns me much more than anything that might be said about Miss Shimmer. If we might discuss those concerns first, I promise that we will return to Miss Shimmer in due course, if you insist upon it.”

“Very well,” Ironwood said. “We can table it for now, and to be fair, we probably should. You want to discuss this possible attack on Vale you mentioned to the First Councillor?”

Ozpin nodded, resting his hands upon his desk. “Miss Fall had a great deal to say, most of it concerning her own past, interesting but ultimately inconsequential. It was only towards the end of her account that she began to yield up … a mixed bag of intelligence. As I say, some of it is nonsense: she attempted to convince us that Amber had betrayed us and was planning to give the Relic away to Salem.”

“Amber?” Glynda repeated. “And after that, you believe a word to come out of Miss Fall’s mouth?”

“Is it really impossible to believe?” Ironwood asked.

“Oh boy,” Qrow muttered, pulling his flask out of one pocket.

Glynda glared at him over the top of her spectacles. “She is the Fall Maiden, James.”

“Who has already tried to run away once,” Ironwood said.

“And been attacked once by the woman who now accuses her of treachery!” Glynda declared. “She has been in a coma for the past year, and ever since she woke up, she has been under constant observation. When would she have been able to arrange this betrayal, and why would she?”

Ironwood conceded the point. They knew Amber much better than he did, after all. If they thought that she would not, or could not, have done this, then who was he to suggest otherwise, and on what basis? He didn’t know her, he wasn’t close to her, he hadn’t formed a judgement of her character. They had, and in spite of what Ozpin had implied tonight, he did generally trust Ozpin’s judgement.

“But you think that Cinder wasn’t lying about everything?” he asked.

“I am less certain that she was lying about everything,” Ozpin clarified. He sighed. “Although there are some things she said which I would very much like to believe are lies. Amber was not the only one alleged to have betrayed us.”

Qrow drunk from his flask. “Let me guess: Leo.”

From where he stood, Ironwood could see Ozpin’s eyes close behind his spectacles. “Indeed,” he murmured.

Ironwood couldn’t say that he was astonished to hear it. After all, they’d already considered the possibility that Leo had betrayed them back when Cinder’s own allegiances had come to light. Leo had let her and her teammates into his school, after all, and while he had managed to come up with a plausible-sounding reason for that, that didn’t foreclose the possibility that his ‘reason’ had been just an excuse.

Not to mention the other unanswered questions, like how Salem’s forces had found Amber, or rather, how they had known that Amber was the Fall Maiden.

“Miss Fall knew that Persephone is missing,” Ozpin said. “Apparently, Salem has one of her servants searching for her even as we speak. The fact that she knew that … it was not mere luck or chance that led Miss Fall to Amber. We must consider that the identities of all the Maidens are compromised.”

“Gods,” Ironwood murmured. Luna. “We should move them, immediately.”

Luna wouldn’t like that, not one bit, but in this, if rarely otherwise, he was prepared to force the issue with her if he had to. She couldn’t stay in Canterlot, not just for her own sake — he knew that Luna could handle herself, especially with Celestia’s help — but for the sake of the children who might be caught in the crossfire if Salem attacked the combat school.

“I agree,” Ozpin said. “I do not think that we need to rush to send Amber to Patch — she might well be safer here until a more permanent home can be arranged for her — but Luna and Sophie? We can’t do anything about the fact that their names are known, but we can get them to other locations unknown to Salem—”

“Or to Leo,” Qrow muttered.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Ozpin said softly. “Leo has been named, and while I do not dismiss the possibility, nor do I wish to prejudge him guilty.” He paused for a moment. “Qrow, I need you to set out for Mistral at first light. Question Leo, determine his guilt or innocence as you think best.”

“As I think best?” Qrow asked.

“If he has betrayed us, it will be necessary to act swiftly,” Ozpin murmured.

“'Act swiftly,'” Qrow repeated. “You mean kill him?”

“Yes,” Ozpin said, without hesitation. “If Leo is a traitor, then he must be removed immediately.”

Qrow took another swig from his flask. “And you want me to be the judge of that?”

“I trust your judgement, Qrow,” Ozpin said.

“There are times when I wish you didn’t,” Qrow muttered.

“You are the only one who I can send to do this,” Ozpin reminded him. “James and Glynda would be noticed by their absence, and the children … I wouldn’t want to burden Miss Nikos or Miss Rose—”

“No, don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to burden Ruby with that either,” Qrow said quickly. “God only knows what her father would say. No, don’t worry, I’ll be your executioner.”

“If necessary,” Ozpin reminded him. “Leo may be innocent.”

“But if he isn’t,” Glynda said, “who will take over as Headmaster of Haven?”

“Don’t look at me,” Qrow muttered. “I quit teaching for a reason.”

“No, once matters are resolved with Leo, I need you to find Persephone, or her successor if she has died, before Salem’s agent does. Find her and drag her back here where we can decide what to do with her.”

Qrow nodded. “Find the needle in the haystack. Got it.”

“As for the new Headmaster of Haven … I don’t know,” Ozpin admitted. “It is not a choice I had thought to have to make for some time. I am afraid that we will have to cross that bridge when we get to it.” He glanced upwards. “Unless you fancy a move to Mistral, Glynda?”

Glynda sniffed. “Very droll, Professor.”

“I was being quite serious, I assure you,” Ozpin said. “You would make an excellent headmaster, I have no doubt.”

“That’s very kind of you, Professor,” Glynda said, “but I think Beacon needs me here, where I flatter myself I do a lot of good. Although if I might suggest, this incident shines a light on the fact that, while Theodore has Professor Rumpole, neither Leo nor James have anyone by their side that they can depend on.”

“I have a whole school that I can depend on,” Ironwood said.

“You know what I mean, James,” Glynda replied. “Or will Luna be filling that role from now on?”

“To be honest,” Ironwood replied, “I was thinking about posting Luna aboard a cruiser; the command of the Reliant has just fallen vacant, and she has the rank for it, if not necessarily the aerial experience.”

“Far be it from me to criticise your decisions, James—” Ozpin began.

“But,” Ironwood said.

“But airships are … rather fragile,” Ozpin went on.

“I assure you, Oz, there is nothing fragile about one of my cruisers,” Ironwood declared. “And I could keep the Reliant safe around Atlas; I’m not suggesting giving Luna a ship and then sending her off on dangerous patrols.”

Although she probably wouldn’t mind if I did.

“I would simply rather that the Winter Maiden were not placed in a situation where she might die simply because…” Ozpin spread his hands. “Because something went wrong with the engine on her ship, or because there was a storm one night, or any other reason why airships fall from the sky.”

“You sound like an old man railing against newfangled technology he doesn’t understand,” Ironwood pointed out.

“I am an old man, James,” Ozpin pointed out. “It’s my prerogative to sound like it every now and then. Please, James, not a warship. Can’t you do as Glynda suggests and find her something at Atlas Academy? One would think that you’d appreciate having her around.”

“I might appreciate it more than she would,” Ironwood muttered. “But all of the positions at Atlas Academy are filled at the moment, and I’m not going to fire someone doing a perfectly good job just so I can make room for Luna.” He paused. “On the other hand, you know that Luna will hate being summoned to Atlas to take up a sinecure or, worse, to sit around doing nothing all day.”

“Yes, in hindsight, she was a terrible choice for a Maiden,” Ozpin allowed.

“How about with a little foresight?” Glynda murmured.

“Yes, Glynda, I do recall that you counselled me against it,” Ozpin admitted, “but she seemed like a perfectly good choice: intelligent, capable, warm-hearted—”

“She had no patience then, and it seems that she hasn’t acquired much of it since,” Glynda said.

“I’m not sure you can be a good teacher without having at least some patience,” Ironwood replied, “but she does need to feel like she’s doing something.”

“Keeping the world safe by making sure that magical power stays out of the wrong hands isn’t good enough for her?” asked Qrow.

“Unfortunately, that’s a little too passive for Luna’s liking,” said Ironwood.

Qrow snorted. “Fair enough, I guess. So what are you going to do with her?”

“I don’t have the list of all current vacant positions memorised, but there will be a place available for her, I’m sure,” Ironwood said. “I’ll think of something, and not the Reliant, as you ask. And I’ll tell Luna to come to Atlas early while she waits to take up her appointment, whatever that appointment turns out to be.”

“And I will get in touch with Theodore and have him move Sophia to somewhere … else,” Ozpin said. He paused. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t like to take Leo’s place at Haven, Glynda? Ideally, the new headmaster would know about Salem, the Maidens, the Relics, and so on and so forth before they were trusted with the key to the vault, and yet, the number of candidates who fit that criteria are … well, you and Professor Rumpole.”

“As I said, it was a mistake for Leo not to have someone at his side who could step in in such a case as this,” Glynda repeated. “As it would be for you, James.”

“Winter Schnee,” Ironwood said. “She’s trustworthy, I’d bet my life on it. If you let me tell her—”

“I will consider it, earnestly, and give you an answer soon enough,” Ozpin interrupted him. “You don’t need to make your case to me, if you trust her … Glynda is correct, I have had cause to note recently that our circle is very small, and even now it has grown larger, the bulk of it is too young to be of help in situations like these. But, in the case of Haven … a realisation come to a little late, I’m afraid. Glynda, I may have to disregard your feelings in this matter.”

Glynda pushed her glasses up her nose. “Mistral may not appreciate an outsider being foisted on them.”

"That may be true, in general," Ironwood said, "but I think you'd be one outsider that Mistral would be happy to have foisted on them."

Glynda's eyebrows rose above her green eyes. "Perhaps you'd better elaborate, James."

"It's quite simple, really," Ironwood replied. "Which school wins more Vytal trophies than any other?"

"Beacon," Glynda said, "of course."

"And who is responsible for that, in no small part?" asked Ironwood.

Glynda cooked her head slightly to one side. "That's very kind of you to imply, James, but Professor Ozpin—"

"Sits here at the top of his tower, while you arm the students with the skills they need to survive in this harsh world," Ozpin said.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were conspiring to get rid of me," muttered Glynda.

"Glynda, I would be devastated to see you go," Ozpin declared, looking up at her at first, then getting to his feet. "But, even if the pool of qualified candidates were not so limited, we both know that your growth is being stifled by my shadow."

Glynda was silent for a moment. Her voice, when it came, was soft. "And what if I do not wish to leave? What if I would rather remain here and, as you so generously put it, continue to arm the students, rather than become a distant figure sitting at the top of the White Tower?"

"I would hardly blame you if you did," Ozpin murmured. "And if you did, you would be very sensible. Alas, duty demands much of us that we would not wish under more ideal circumstances."

Again, Glynda took a moment before she said, "Very well. If Leo is a traitor, then … then I will take his post at Haven. But you must promise me, Professor, that you will replace me here, and not just teaching all of my classes. It is not good for you to be alone, with no one to counsel you."

"No," Ozpin agreed. "No, it most certainly is not." He sank back down into his chair. "Thank you, Glynda; you take a weight off my mind."

"I find my hopes for Leo's innocence have increased," Glynda muttered.

Qrow snorted. A smile pricked at the corners of Ironwood's mouth.

Ozpin also smiled, though it was a fleeting smile and faded quickly. "Miss Fall, although alleging Leo's complicity, also alleges that one need not be a traitor to let a serpent into the garden. She alleges that there are two students still here in service to Salem. One from Beacon and one from Atlas."

"'From Atlas'?" Ironwood repeated. "Who?"

"Miss Bonaventure of Team Bluebell, " Ozpin said, "and a Tempest Shadow of—"

"Team Tsunami," Ironwood finished for him. "That's what she said, that they were working for Salem?"

"That is what Miss Fall alleged, yes," Ozpin said.

"I don't believe it," Glynda declared. "More nonsense. Miss Bonaventure is … I hesitate to speak ill of any of my students—"

"But," Qrow said invitingly.

"But if Salem were looking to recruit so young, I would expect her to choose someone less … unremarkable," Glynda went on. "Miss Bonaventure is in the lower half of the rankings in my combat class, her grades with Peter and Barty vary from average to mediocre, she displays some aptitude in Peter's practical exercises but is outclassed by some of our more talented students, and since she became the leader of Team Bluebell, she has failed to impress me with any great talent for leadership. It makes no sense to me. Does she seem like the sort of person Salem would bother to reach out to?"

“No,” Qrow conceded. “But—” He took another drink from his hip flask. “That’s only one way of looking at it. Yeah, sure, when you wanted to find some likely kid to help you out instead of calling me, you went to some of the best students that you could find. But, if you already had someone, and you wanted to send them into the school, maybe you’d tell them to keep a low profile and not get themselves noticed.”

“There is a difference between keeping a low profile and barely keeping your head above water,” Glynda replied. “Surely someone aiming to keep a low profile would be displaying a measure of quiet competence in all their classes?”

“I don’t know; the verge of incompetence seems to be working out pretty well for this chick in terms of deflecting suspicion,” Qrow muttered.

“You sound like you’ve judged her guilty already,” Ozpin murmured. “There is only the word of a known enemy to go on — and an enemy who has already lied to us.”

“Okay, I’m not saying to believe everything that comes out of her mouth,” Qrow said. “You know Amber, so if you say she’s good, that’s fine with me, but it doesn’t sound like any of us know these other two kids that well.” He looked at Ironwood. “Unless you know this Atlas girl?”

“I know Shadow,” Ironwood replied. “Do I know her well? I’d have to admit not. You know how it is when there is one member on a team who is quite a character; they can drown out the other members of their team. On Team Tsunami, that’s Lulamoon; she sometimes makes it hard to see her teammates.”

“Even Starlight Glimmer, the girl you thought might be a good Winter Maiden?” asked Glynda.

“At some point, you’re going to have to let me live that down,” Ironwood muttered. “We all thought Luna might be dying, we had to act quickly, and Glimmer’s semblance—”

“She ran away, James,” Glynda reminded him. “She’d barely been told to give the notion some thought, and she ran away into the wilderness.”

“As much as I like making fun of Jimmy, perhaps we should cut him some slack on that, considering that she’s not the only one who ran,” Qrow pointed out. “At least Twilight—”

“Starlight.”

“Whatever, at least she ran away before she actually got her hands on the magic. Persephone and Amber weren’t as considerate. It seems like kids these days just can’t handle the pressure the way we could back in our day.”

“Now who sounds like an old man, Qrow?” asked Ozpin, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice.

“I feel old,” Qrow grumbled. “Ruby and Yang make me feel old.”

“Are you sure that’s not just the drink?” asked Ironwood.

Qrow chuckled darkly. “Could be that too.” He had another drink. “So, do you know anything about this … Stormy—?”

“Tempest Shadow,” Ironwood corrected him. “In answer to Glynda’s question, even Glimmer stands in the background behind Lulamoon. I think she likes it that way. Up until very, very recently, I would have said that they all liked it that way: Glimmer, Flare, and Shadow. I still think that Shadow likes it that way, but perhaps not for the same reasons that I would have given before.”

“You suspect her?” Ozpin asked, sounding surprised. “I must confess, I expected you to swell up somewhat at the insult to Atlas Academy.”

“I just found out that one of my students abused her stepsister enough that she became one of Salem’s most dangerous servants,” Ironwood said. “Let’s just say that I’m having to rethink my reflexive loyalty. That doesn’t mean that I think Shadow is guilty, but I’m not going to deny the possibility out of hand. I’ve not noticed anything suspicious, but as Qrow points out, she could just be keeping things low key. I’ll have Lulamoon and Glimmer keep an eye on her, watch out for anything … unusual.”

Qrow said, “What if her teammates—?”

“No,” Ironwood said firmly. “No, that I won’t consider. I can admit that maybe I don’t know all of my students well enough to spot when they are … trouble, but Lulamoon? Glimmer? Them, I know. Underneath Lulamoon’s cape and her affectations, she’s made of the right stuff. They both are. They’re made of true mettle.”

“'Both'?” asked Glynda. “Starlight Glimmer—”

“Wasn’t equal to the burden of being a Maiden,” Ironwood admitted, “but that’s a heavy burden, as I’m sure that Oz will agree.”

“One of the heaviest,” Ozpin murmured.

“And one that a lot of people aren’t equipped to shoulder; that’s why it’s important to choose the right candidates, that’s why even the right candidates sometimes let us down,” Ironwood said. “The fact that Glimmer couldn’t shoulder that weight doesn’t say anything about her courage or her resolve as a huntress, and it certainly doesn’t say anything about her loyalty. She might run away from the power of a maiden, but she would never betray her friends, not for one second. Despite what I’ve learned, there are some who still have my absolute trust, and those two are amongst them.”

“And you have my trust, James, so do as you will in this matter,” Ozpin said. “Set Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer to watch their quiet teammate. As for Miss Bonaventure—”

“She has been around Amber in the past,” Glynda pointed out. “She and Mister Bronzewing are friends, and Miss Bonaventure and Miss Heartstrings have been in her presence on numerous occasions; no harm has come to Amber as a result.”

That might be because Amber— Ironwood cut off that thought. Ozpin said not, Ozpin said it wasn’t possible, and Ozpin, as he had reminded them, was still their leader. If he said that it wasn’t possible, if he said that there was no way that Amber could betray them, well … they ought to listen. They owed him that much.

Not to mention the fact that Amber was almost always accompanied by at least one member of either Team SAPR or Team RSPT, and when she wasn’t, it was because one of Ozpin’s inner circle was with her instead — not Ironwood, but Glynda, Qrow, Ozpin himself. Hatching treachery would be exceedingly difficult under those conditions.

So would harming Amber. Assuming that all of Salem’s agents knew that Amber was the Fall Maiden, it would nevertheless take a boldness verging upon madness to attack her while she was being so closely protected.

That didn’t stop Cinder Fall.

And look where it got her.

“Could it be a double bluff?” Ironwood suggested. “Cinder gives us two names, one of which is really an enemy, and the other isn’t. The name that is not is so clearly not an enemy that we dismiss both names, thinking that she must be lying?”

“It is a possibility,” Ozpin conceded. “That would also explain why she named Amber—”

“Perhaps even Leo,” Glynda offered.

“They can’t all be false leads, or that just defeats the object,” Qrow muttered.

“I fear that we dare not assume that any of them are false leads without proof,” Ozpin murmured. “Loathe as I am to suspect one of the students … what Miss Fall has said cannot be ignored, as much as we might wish to.”

Glynda frowned. “Then what do we do? I’m not sure I would trust Miss Heartstrings to spy on Miss Bonaventure, the way James trusts his students.”

“No, nor would I,” said Ozpin. “No, we will … we will tell them that, as their team will shortly be reduced to two people once Mister Bronzewing takes his leave, that they are being temporarily suspended while we explore our options for their future study. That will remove Miss Bonaventure from Beacon and give us time and space to investigate her thoroughly.”

“What if she runs?” asked Qrow.

“Then we will know that Miss Fall was telling the truth about her,” replied Ozpin.

Glynda pursed her lips together. “I see,” she murmured. “That’s that decided then, I suppose. What else?”

“The attack on Vale,” Ozpin said. “And, related, possibly more disturbing news. Miss Fall told us that Salem has sent a Siren to Vale, to spread discord and strife amongst the people. The recent upsurge in hostility towards Atlas and to the faunus is apparently their doing.”

“And here I thought people just didn’t like Jimmy throwing his weight around,” Qrow said.

“You can apologise whenever you like,” Ironwood told him.

“Worse still,” Ozpin said, “the Siren’s influence has reached as far as the Valish Defence Forces.”

“To General Blackthorn?” Ironwood asked. “That would explain a lot.”

Ozpin nodded. “Miss Fall certainly seemed to regard being taken into their custody as a death sentence. She believed that the Valish soldiers were under the control of those elements of Salem’s faction who had betrayed her.”

“But only because they were working with Amber right?” Qrow asked. “Which is a load of bull.”

“But if we are willing to accept that there are other agents of Salem present, we cannot rule out the possibility of some … palace intrigue amongst them,” Ozpin said. “It would not be the first time that Salem’s schemes have been undone by jockeying for power and status amongst those who serve her. It has enabled her agents to be defeated in detail, or better still, they have defeated themselves. It may be that Miss Fall has fallen, if you will forgive the pun, victim to such infighting and has leapt to the conclusion that Amber is also involved. She did not claim to have any proof of Amber’s involvement.” He paused for a moment. “Miss Shimmer certainly found the idea of a Siren’s involvement to be plausible, and I am inclined to trust her judgement on the matter. For that reason, as she is familiar with this creature, I thought to have Miss Shimmer and Team Sapphire take the lead on hunting down the Siren once the tournament is over. Miss Shimmer may have a better idea of what she is looking for and how to combat it than we would, or would be able to instruct, say, James’ Atlesian specialists. That will also free us up to concentrate upon the Siren’s influence.”

“How strong is that influence?” Glynda asked. “Could the Valish forces become hostile?”

“General Blackthorn is doing nothing while hordes of grimm gather outside the walls,” Ironwood pointed out. “You could say that he’s already become hostile.”

“Yes, but he isn’t actually shooting at anyone yet,” Glynda pointed out.

“That’s part of the problem,” Ironwood replied. “But I take your point.” He paused. “How far and deep does the rot spread? And what about Councillor Emerald?”

“I think it would be very strange indeed if the Siren’s influence had made the First Councillor more emollient and reasonable than he was before the creature arrived,” Ozpin murmured dryly. “I think that he is not under her spell, thank goodness. As for your other question, I know as much, or as little, as you.” He clasped his hands together. “As I see it, there are two questions before us: first, how are we to defend Vale against an impending attack by the grimm without, possibly aided by saboteurs within, and secondly, what are we to do if the Valish Defence Forces become hostile?” He looked at Ironwood. “This is where I should be very glad of your opinion as a military man, James.”

“And yet, I don’t think that you’d like my initial answer, as a military man,” Ironwood replied, “which is that, if the Valish start shooting, I can blow them out of the sky in under five minutes.”

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” Qrow said.

“Valish airships are heavily armed, true,” Ironwood allowed. “Those monstrosities the Mistralians persuaded them to buy are even more heavily armed. But they’re slow and sluggish to manoeuvre, and their armour is designed to protect them from the beaks and claws of grimm, not from laser fire. All I’d need to do is order my ships to target their engines and force them down. But I’m guessing you’d prefer to avoid the casualties.”

“We are talking about human beings,” Ozpin pointed out mildly. “Human beings, moreover, who are not in control of their actions. Not to mention that the idea of airships falling down upon Vale makes my stomach churn. If there is a way that eschews military conflict, I would welcome it, yes. If this time of peace can be at all preserved … the last thing we need is a war between kingdoms.”

“It only takes one to start a fight; sometimes, the best thing you can do is finish it,” Ironwood said. “But…” He considered the problem. “If First Councillor Emerald isn’t affected, then he could overrule his military commanders and order his forces to stand down.”

“Would they listen?” asked Glynda. “If the Siren has gotten to them—”

“No, they wouldn’t, but that’s where the second element of the plan comes in,” Ironwood went on. “A decapitation strike by a small, elite unit descending on the headquarters of the Valish Defence Force and capturing General Blackthorn and his command staff. Once captured, he can be compelled to order his forces to surrender, if possible; if not, then at the very least, those Valish forces which have not obeyed their councillor will be left leaderless and without coordination.” Ironwood looked down at Ozpin. “Although at that point, I’m afraid it may not be possible to resolve the matter without engaging and eliminating the holdouts.”

“If it must be so, I would prefer to leave that to Valish units that have remained loyal to the First Councillor,” Ozpin said. “The last thing we need is images of Atlesian airships reducing Valish military positions from the air.”

“Do you think that they’ll fight each other?” Ironwood asked. “Do you think that the First Councillor will give such an order? Why would he?”

“Why would your men fight against the Valish?” asked Ozpin.

“Because they’ve started shooting at us,” Ironwood replied.

“Yes, well,” Ozpin murmured. “I do like the idea of this decapitation strike, though; like killing an apex alpha to scatter a horde. Prepare your team, but do it in the strictest secrecy, I beg you, with as small a number as possible and only those you can trust.”

“I already have just the team,” Ironwood assured him.

Ozpin nodded. “Councillor Emerald has ordered, or told me he would order, the police to increase security around key infrastructure. He seemed to feel that something was not quite right about General Blackthorn, which is why he is using the police, not the military. I hope that this will counter the potential for sabotage and leave us free to concentrate on the threat from the grimm beyond the city.”

Ironwood got out his scroll and, after a couple of taps of his fingers, put it down on top of Ozpin's desk.

A hologram appeared above the desk, a top down map of the outskirts of Vale, including Beacon, with lines, squares and icons of white for the Atlesians, green for the Valish and blue for the Mistralians scattered across the map.

"As things stand," Ironwood said, "I have my Fourth Battalion deployed on defensive positions on the Green Line, with their airships positioned above them in support. Elements of the Ninth Battalion, which arrived from Atlas after the Breach, are here at Beacon, with another company in reserve behind the Green Line. The First Battalion is my general reserve, standing by aboard ship, with the ships of the First and Ninth Squadrons patrolling over Beacon or Vale.

"Currently," he went on, gesturing to the green line — not to be confused with the Green Line — running south of the white line representing the Fourth Battalion, "the Valish have an infantry battalion of their own on the Green Line, with an armoured regiment in support."

"Tanks," Qrow muttered scornfully.

"With proper infantry support to stop the grimm from closing on and ripping through their armour, they can be effective," Ironwood said quietly.

"Then why don't you use them?" Qrow asked, in a tone that was approaching a demand without quite getting there.

"Because we prefer walkers," Ironwood said. "They don't require as many crew, and they aren't helpless up close. But I can see why the Valish might disagree, especially since they don't have our airpower. In any case, the Valish have three more infantry or marine battalions in Vale itself, together with two airships, the Terror and the Zhenzhang. The Mistralians are here, camped between the Green and Red Lines; they've been conducting exercises with the Valish."

"Who's winning?" asked Glynda.

"The Mistralians, surprisingly," Ironwood replied. "From what my people have observed, Polemarch Yeoh keeps luring the Valish into ambushes."

"An unexpected tactic, from a Mistralian," Glynda observed.

"From an aristocrat, perhaps, less so from an old mercenary," said Ironwood. "The Dingyuan hasn't been taking part in any exercises, but according to Polemarch Yeoh, it's still under Mistralian control." He paused. "While we can't know how the Valish troops will react in the event of a grimm attack, as I see it, there are three broad options: either they attempt to stand their ground, in which case, I can move in the ships of Ninth Squadron to provide covering fire, or they retreat from their positions, or they—"

"Turn on your guys next to them," said Qrow.

"Exactly." Ironwood said. "In the second scenario, it would become a race to see whether we could occupy the vacated positions on the Green Line before the grimm reached them. Our best chance would be to expand the frontage of the Fourth Battalion out along the entire perimeter, then reinforce with the Ninth and, if necessary, First Battalion to strengthen the line. Having the Mistralians move forward might also be of assistance. If the Valish turn hostile, then to be perfectly honest, I don't think we can hold the Green Line. I am confident that so long as we can control or even contest the skies, we can repel a frontal assault by the grimm; we have enough firepower to make it impossible for them to move forward. But I'm far less confident about our ability to do that while being enfiladed from the flank. In that case, I think our best option would be to evacuate the Fourth Battalion by air while using the First Battalion to seize the Red Line positions by a coup de main, and make our stand there."

"On the edge of Vale itself?" Ozpin said.

"They still won't make it inside Vale " Ironwood said. "I guarantee it."

There was a moment of pause before Glynda said, "Would you need the assistance of the students?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind having some of them assisting on the line, but I wouldn't mandate it even if I could," Ironwood said. "No one will be refused, but that choice is for them to make, not for me to make for them. I won't fault them either way."

A ping from the elevator drew the attention of Ironwood and everyone else in the office.

"Expecting someone else?" asked Qrow.

The doors opened before Ozpin had a chance to reply. They opened to admit Ruby Rose and Penny into the headmaster's office.

"Miss Rose, Miss Polendina, what an unexpected pleasure," said Professor Ozpin in an amiable tone. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Fallen Idol (New)

Fallen Idol

Ruby didn’t say anything as the lift carried her and Penny up to see Professor Ozpin.

To see the second person who had betrayed her trust tonight.

It was arguably even worse, because while Ruby had believed that Sunset would do something like what she had done, to find out that Professor Ozpin had known all about it and done nothing was … it had not been something Ruby had seen coming.

Professor Ozpin was … Professor Ozpin. The man who had saved Vale after the fall of Mountain Glenn, defeating the great grimm horde that had swept down upon the city, breaking its back at Ozpin’s Stand. The man who led the battle to defend the world from Salem. The man who had mentored her mother, who had inspired her to come to Beacon and then helped her — and her father, and her uncle — to become great huntsmen, protectors of the weak and the innocent.

The man who had trusted her to take her mother’s place in the fight against Salem, the fight of life against death, the fight to protect all mankind.

He had trusted her, and she had trusted him as well. She had trusted him to do the right thing, to be the model of a huntsman, to make the choices that had to be made for the sake of Remnant and humanity.

And Professor Ozpin had shown himself willing and able to make those choices in the past. Even when Ruby had been glad that those choices had not, in fact, had to be made, like when Sunset had found a way to save Pyrrha and Amber both, nevertheless, Professor Ozpin had been willing, in the absence of any better options, to make the hard choice.

Ruby admired him for that. She could understand why Pyrrha and Jaune didn’t, because as much as it might be necessary to sacrifice for the greater good … well, it was sometimes necessary to kill a cow so you could eat hamburgers, but you didn’t expect the cow itself to be happy about it, did you?

Not that Ruby was saying that Pyrrha was a cow, just that … forget that. Ruby was glad that she hadn’t said that out loud.

The point was that, while Ozpin could be persuaded that there were better ways, he ultimately didn’t hesitate to take the hard path. He wasn’t swayed by sentiment or sentimentality; he was strong, as a huntsman sometimes needed to be strong in all the hardest possible ways.

Ruby had thought he was, anyway.

Apparently, it was not so.

That disappointed her more than what Sunset had done. What Sunset had done was worse, but Sunset could at least plead in mitigation that her behaviour was entirely consistent with her character.

Sunset was … Sunset was like the snake that the farmer’s wife rescued from out of the hot sun and nursed back to health, only to get bitten on the breast by way of thanks.

“You knew I was a snake when you took me in.”

Yes, yes, they had all known what Sunset was. They had all known that Sunset was someone unscrupulous, someone who fundamentally didn’t care about anyone outside of a close — widening gradually over time, sure, but still close — circle of people who she deigned to…

'Deigned' wasn’t the right word. It made it sound like Sunset was condescending — okay, she condescended to Ruby plenty, but not in the same way — to give them her affection. That wasn’t right, and as much as Ruby was judging Sunset pretty harshly at the moment, she wasn’t going to malign her by pretending that Sunset’s affection for them had been false, had been a pretence, had been something burdensome or bothersome to her that she had endured.

Sunset’s feelings had been real. So real that they had driven her to do something terrible.

And they had known that. They should have known that — they should have been able to see that coming — because Sunset had never hidden who and what she was.

That was why Ruby had found it so easy to believe that Sunset had done what she was accused of, even in the face of denials from First Councillor Emerald and Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin…

She had expected better from Professor Ozpin. He was no viper but a huntsman, and a noble huntsman at that.

Or at least, Ruby had thought he was.

Apart from anything else, if he had been willing to excuse Sunset’s actions, then … how could the same man willing to ask Pyrrha to sacrifice her life or her soul for the greater good be willing to turn a blind eye to Sunset’s blatant disregard for the same?

It just … it didn’t make any sense to her, and because it didn’t make any sense to her, it was starting to rankle with Ruby as the elevator made its way up to the top of the tower.

Yes, make the hard choice if absolutely necessary. Yes, ask Pyrrha to make a sacrifice — it was a hard thing to ask, it had been a hard thing to sit still for, and Ruby had had a very hard time indeed sitting still for it; she’d had to… she wasn’t exactly proud of how she’d acted back then; putting her hood up like that felt, in hindsight, a little bit like turning a blind eye to what was going on, when she ought to have faced it and tried to make Penny understand the necessity of what was happening, but, whatever, it hadn’t actually been necessary—

Because of Sunset.

Which wouldn’t have—

Sometimes, peace must be bought with blood that is red like roses.

But not their blood. Never the ones we swore to protect. Never.

Yes, it was good that Amber was alive, and Pyrrha was alive, but if it meant that the price was Sunset being allowed to carry on at Beacon, even after what she had…

Ruby shook her head. She was getting off track. That wasn’t the point. Sunset was … dealt with now, for good or for bad. She was—

“Ruby?” Penny asked, putting a hand on Ruby’s arm. “Are you okay? You were shaking your head there.”

“I know,” Ruby murmured. “I know I was, I just…”

Penny cocked her head to one side. “Just what?”

“I can’t understand why Professor Ozpin would be willing to ask Pyrrha to give her life for the good of humanity,” Ruby said, “but at the same time, when he found out that Sunset had put humanity — or Vale, at least — at risk just to save our lives … he was okay with that. It doesn’t make any sense to me. Surely, someone who could see that the first was necessary, even if it was hard and sad, could also see that the second was wrong. Wholly, totally wrong. How could the same person make those two decisions?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “In my experience, people are often very complicated and do things that don’t always match up with the way they acted before.”

“In your experience?” Ruby repeated.

“I’ve had a little experience by now,” Penny said. “I wasn’t assembled yesterday!”

Ruby couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “No. No, you weren’t, were you?” She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s all it is, but I—”

“You wish that there was a reason?” Penny asked.

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied. “I don’t think there’s anything that Professor Ozpin could say that would make me think he did the right thing … but then, if I think that, then what am I doing here, going to see him? Maybe that’s all I’m going to see him for, so that there’ll be some sort of reason that will explain why it was necessary to cover up what Sunset did, why he had to cover it up. Some reason that will … let me keep believing in him.”

“And stopping panic in Vale,” Penny suggested. “That isn’t a good enough reason?”

“It’s a good reason for not throwing Sunset in jail, I guess,” Ruby admitted. “But to not even kick her out of Beacon, to let her keep leading this team? No, it’s not a good enough reason. Not for me.”

“I see,” Penny murmured. She hesitated for a second. “What … what will you do if Professor Ozpin doesn’t make you team leader?”

“I guess I can’t do anything but put up with it,” Ruby replied. “But … maybe he will make the wrong choice — he’s made the wrong choice before, or we wouldn’t be here — but … I hope that he’ll make the right decision.”

“Which is you,” Penny said.

“Yes,” Ruby said flatly. “Yes, it is.” She looked at Penny. “I suppose that I shouldn’t say that out loud, I suppose that makes me look grasping or ambitious or whatever, but I am the only choice. Jaune doesn’t have the experience, and Pyrrha … Pyrrha couldn’t make the hard decisions. She might have condemned Sunset, just about, but when put in Sunset’s place … she’d make the same bad choices that Sunset made.”

Penny frowned at that. “Pyrrha was willing to risk everything to become—”

“And Sunset was willing to die facing Adam,” Ruby reminded her. “Sunset was never … never a coward when it came to her own life, her own safety. She could risk that just fine, just like Pyrrha could risk her own life fighting Cinder in that stupid duel. It was other people’s lives they couldn’t stand to risk. Do you really think that Pyrrha has it in her to let Jaune die, even if it’s for the sake of the whole world?”

Penny blinked. “No. No, I don’t think that she would. I don’t … think that she could.”

She didn’t elaborate on whether that was a good thing or not, and Ruby didn’t ask her to. She didn’t need Penny to agree with her, and she didn’t want to fight with her about it either. She just wanted to get her point across.

“I’m the only one who can lead this team the way it should be led,” she declared. “With unwavering commitment.”

“So…” Penny began. “So there’s no one that you would … no one for who—?”

“No,” Ruby said, before Penny could finish. “No one.” She looked at Penny. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” Penny said softly. “It makes me … I admire you, but at the same time, I also feel a little sorry for you.”

Ruby frowned. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me, Penny,” she said. “Not one little bit.”

“Okay,” Penny murmured. “Is there anything that Professor Ozpin could say that would convince you he’d done the right thing?”

“He could…” Now, it was Ruby’s turn to trail off, as an obvious answer failed to spring to the forefront of her mind. “I guess if he told me that he thought that there’d be a massive grimm attack if he did anything, then I suppose I’d have to accept that. Because…”

“Because what?” Penny asked.

“Because if it’s sometimes necessary to sacrifice lives for the greater good, for the cause, for humanity, then … then I guess it has to be sometimes necessary to sacrifice principles as well,” Ruby said. “I mean … you can’t say that you’ll give your life for the sake of the people, but you won’t give up your pride or your honour or whatever else you want to call it. If you let people die because saving them would make you feel bad, make you cross a line, then you’re just as selfish as Sunset was. I’m not saying that anyone should be like Olivia, leading her knights to their death because she was too proud to call for help, no, that’s not what I’m saying.

“What I’m saying is that if Professor Ozpin thought that punishing Sunset, even just the way that I’ve done, would cost lives, then he would have a moral obligation not to do it, and … I’d have to admit that I was wrong.”

“But Sunset did save lives,” Penny pointed out. “She saved Pyrrha.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ruby said. “I’m not talking about other, random, unconnected things that Sunset did in the future, but that Professor Ozpin had no way of knowing that she would do or could do. He didn’t know that she could save Amber the way she did. I’m talking about clear cut choices like the one Sunset faced: because she did something, people died. If Professor Ozpin knew that if he did something, then people would die, and so, he chose to do nothing, then that would be an explanation I would have to accept. Or else I’d be sacrificing my own principles. Does all of this make sense? I … I’m not good with words.”

“I think it makes sense,” Penny replied. “It’s all about saving as many people as possible, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ruby said, “while also respecting their choices, and their right to make their own choices, because I wouldn’t want to tell anyone what to do just to keep them safe.” Unlike some people. “Nobody should be able to do that.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I stand by what I said: people are very complicated.”

“I guess we are,” Ruby agreed. “But for good reasons, hopefully.”

The elevator slowed to a stop.

Ruby took a deep breath. “I guess this is it, huh?”

Penny smiled. “It’ll be alright,” she said.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because … because I believe in you, I suppose,” Penny said. “And because things have a way of working out while my friends are around.”

Ruby smiled a little. “Thanks for being here, Penny.”

The doors to the lift opened, and Ruby stepped out, with Penny not even a step behind her. Professor Ozpin’s office was dark, lit only by the green lights seeping down from the top of the tower above, but even that little light was enough that Ruby could see that Professor Ozpin was not alone up here. Uncle Qrow was with him, and Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood too.

And they were all looking at her, and at Penny.

"Miss Rose, Miss Polendina, what an unexpected pleasure," said Professor Ozpin, kindly — or at least, he was trying to be kind. Trying to sound kind and friendly, although that wasn’t necessarily the same as actually being kind and friendly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

You can tell me why you kept what Sunset did a secret. Ruby glanced at Uncle Qrow. “Um, Professor … I was hoping that I could have a word with you … in private.”

“'In private'?” Uncle Qrow repeated. “You got something to say that you can’t say in front of me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Qrow,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Although I do question what it is that couldn’t wait until morning. We are in the middle of a meeting, Miss Rose.”

“I can see that, Professor, and I’m sorry,” Ruby said. “But it … it really is urgent.” She swallowed. “I’d rather talk to Professor Ozpin by himself, but I’ll say it in front of everyone if I have to. I’m not leaving without talking to you.”

Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses up her nose. “That is not for you to decide, Miss Rose.”

“What will you do about it, Glynda?” asked Professor Ozpin. “Bundle her back into the elevator with your semblance?”

He sounded amused, like he was about to chuckle. Then he looked into Ruby’s eyes. Or at least, that’s what Ruby thought he was doing. It was a little hard to tell because, with it being so dark in here and Ruby on the other side of the room from him, she was having a hard time making out Professor Ozpin’s eyes, but she definitely thought that he was looking into hers.

She felt like he was looking into her eyes, and through her eyes, piercing her soul.

“This is about Miss Shimmer,” he said calmly. “Is it not?”

Qrow frowned. “Ruby?”

Ruby took a step forward, and then another. “Sunset told me everything,” she declared. “She admitted to everything. Including … including that you knew about it.”

The only sound in the office was the ever-grinding clock.

Professor Goodwitch folded her arms; the rustling of her blouse, the fabric of her sleeves was the first sound besides in the clock in the office after Ruby had spoken. “So,” she said quietly, “it was true.” She turned her gaze sharply upon Professor Ozpin. “And you knew about it.”

“After the fact,” Professor Ozpin replied. “But yes, I knew.”

“And you defended her,” Ruby declared. “You kept the truth from all of us, and even when the truth came out, you still acted like it couldn’t possibly be true—”

“I spoke the truth in the police station, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “I said that Miss Shimmer was imperfect, but that she was—”

“‘A credit to Beacon Academy,’” Ruby said, almost spitting out the words, the false words, the awful words. “Are you really going to say that you didn’t think that was a lie? How … how could you even say something like that without choking on it?”

“Because I believe it, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin.

So few words, such simple words, and yet at the same time … awful words. Words that struck Ruby harder than any physical blow, harder than the swipe of a ursa’s paws, harder than a gunshot.

Sunset, a credit to Beacon Academy. Selfish Sunset, callous and careless Sunset, vile Sunset, a credit to Beacon Academy? It would have been laughable if it hadn’t been for the fact that the person saying it was supposed to know, better than anyone else, who was and was not a credit to Beacon.

“How…?” Ruby’s voice, when it came, was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. She sounded childlike, even to her own ears, a child looking for reassurance that it was just thunder outside, and not the growling of the grimm. “How can you say that? After what she did, how can you say that? How can you think that, how can you believe that? Is that … is that what a huntress is to you: someone who lets people die, who puts them in harm’s way to save—?”

“Her friends,” Professor Ozpin said, softly but firmly. “I very much hope that you were going to say ‘her friends,’ Miss Rose. Let us not traduce Miss Shimmer by claiming that she acted to save her own skin.”

“I know why she did it,” Ruby declared. “I know why Sunset did what she did; that’s how I knew that she’d done it even before she said anything. But the fact that she did it to save me and Pyrrha and Jaune and Blake and Rainbow Dash, it doesn’t … maybe it makes her a little bit of a better person than if she’d done it because she was scared to die herself, but it doesn’t make her good! It doesn’t make her a huntress, and it doesn’t make her a credit to Beacon. How could you say that?!”

She yelled those last few words, those words that galloped out of her mouth without pause or hesitation.

“Answer me,” Ruby said, her voice halfway between a plea and a demand. “Please.”

Again, there was a moment of quiet in the office. General Ironwood was stiff, rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes on Ruby. Qrow was looking somewhere else, his hands thrust into his pockets, studying the wall. Professor Goodwitch still had her arms folded and still looked at Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. Straight at her. At least, he was kind enough to do that.

“Has Crescent Rose ever misfired, Miss Rose?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“No, never,” Ruby replied. “I made it too well for that.”

“Then you are very fortunate, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “I, on the other hand, have chosen the wrong analogy.” He paused for a moment. “So let us dispense with the analogy. Miss Shimmer has made mistakes. I do not condone every decision that she has made since arriving at Beacon. But should I throw her away because of a single mistake, should I cast aside a weapon because it has misfired once?”

“Sunset isn’t a weapon,” Penny said. “She’s a person.”

“I think we’re back on the analogy, Penny,” General Ironwood murmured.

“And the answer is yes,” Ruby declared. “Yes, if the weapon misfiring kills people, then throw it away! If Sunset makes a mistake that is so big, that is that big, then throw her away too!”

“What of forgiveness, Miss Rose?”

“What about justice?” Ruby demanded. “Does everyone just get to get away with it, whatever they’ve done, because they say they’re sorry? Murderers and thieves, Torchwick and Cinder, they can all just say they’re sorry and skip merrily on their way?” She took a moment to catch her breath and bowed her head. “I … I understand that … Sunset said that the First Councillor found out before you did. That’s why the accusations didn’t mention you.”

“Indeed,” Professor Ozpin replied. “It was the First Councillor and the former First Councillor who first discovered the truth, after Miss Shimmer confessed to them—”

“Why would she do that?” asked Qrow. “She could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she’d kept it to herself.”

“And no doubt, she would have kept it to herself, if she had been truly uncaring to the cost of what she had done,” Professor Ozpin said. “If she truly given no thought to the possibility that she had made a mistake. But she was not so careless, nor was she so confident in the righteousness of her decision, and so, the guilt weighed upon her. And guilt has a habit of finding expression.”

“Sunset said that she thought that she could save Councillor Aris’ career if she came out with the truth,” Ruby explained. “She thought that people wouldn’t blame Councillor Novo if they knew that it was all her fault.”

“If only politics were that simple,” General Ironwood murmured.

“The former First Councillor, and the current First Councillor, knew better,” said Professor Ozpin. “They knew that Councillor Aris’ position was untenable, and so … and yet, they made a rather generous decision in the circumstances, not to let Miss Shimmer hurl herself onto the bonfire of Miz Aris’ career but to keep her secret.”

“And you approve of that?” asked Professor Goodwitch. “Don’t you think that Miss Shimmer ought to have been punished for her actions? Or, as Miss Rose says, is any criminal to walk free upon the merest expression of remorse?”

“Whatever you — or Miss Rose, or anyone else — might think of Miss Shimmer, she is a hero to the people of Vale,” Professor Ozpin said. “Taking that away, doing worse than that, revealing that the hero had in fact been—”

“The villain the whole time?” Ruby suggested.

Professor Ozpin did not reply to that, but simply said, “It would have caused outcry in the city. It could have caused panic that would have drawn more grimm down upon the city, it could even have worsened the backlash against the faunus in Vale — something I am sure that Councillor Emerald considered very carefully. He certainly did not act out of love for Miss Shimmer. They came to an arrangement whereby he would give Miss Shimmer certain dangerous assignments, hoping that grimm or bandits or some other peril in the world would deliver to Miss Shimmer the justice that Miss Rose seems to wish to exact on her.”

“This isn’t about—” Ruby stopped. “That … that was why she went away, wasn’t it? You said she was on a mission for you, and when she came back—”

“Correct, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “That was a mission for the First Councillor.”

Ruby frowned. “But then … there were never any others? Sunset never left again, or was she gone and then back, and I—”

“No, Miss Rose, there were no others,” Professor Ozpin. “I had never approved of what Councillor Emerald had asked of Miss Shimmer, and after the first time … I determined to put a stop to it. I told Councillor Emerald no more.”

“So you knew by then, at least,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Professor Ozpin nodded. “I found out shortly before Miss Shimmer left on her mission for the First Councillor.”

“And you didn’t do anything?” Ruby asked. “You let her stay here at Beacon, continue leading Team Sapphire, keep … you didn’t do anything? Because she was sorry?”

“Because I know what it is to be burdened by mistakes that one can never undo,” Professor Ozpin replied. “And because I know I am inclined towards, if not forgiveness, then at the very least towards mercy, the quality of which is, thankfully, not yet strained.”

“That doesn’t mean—” Ruby began, before biting the words back until she had marshalled them a little better. “I understand that you didn’t want to cause a panic, risk another grimm attack. I suppose … I suppose there was a risk of that, and avoiding that … it’s worth almost anything, any … sacrifice.” Except for the fact that it doesn’t seem to have been much of a sacrifice for you, but never mind that. Let that go. If that … I can’t think like that; that’s too much, a step too far. Not everything needs to be a hard choice.

Ruby went on, “But you could have thrown her out of Beacon and told us the truth. We would have kept the secret, but we also wouldn’t have had to…” She trailed off, fearing to seem too angry and emotional.

Professor Ozpin leaned forward a little. “Would not have had to what, Miss Rose?”

“It doesn’t matter, Professor,” Ruby replied. “The point is that you could have sent her away.”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin agreed. “I could have. I could have told her that she was no longer welcome at this school. But I did not. Because, as I have said, I am a great believer in mercy, and because I am…” He paused. “You know what I am, you all know what I am, and yet, I find that I am struggling to find words to express it without sounding inappropriate. I am responsible for a great many lives, in Vale and beyond, not only as the headmaster of this academy but … as the leader of this group.”

“Yes, Professor, you are,” Ruby whispered. Which is why you especially should have appreciated the magnitude of what Sunset did.

“And as such, I must take the broadest view, the longest view, the…” again, Professor Ozpin hesitated.

“Professor?” Penny asked.

Professor Ozpin’s eyes flickered from Ruby to Penny. “Yes, Miss Polendina?”

“Why is it that you couldn’t let Sunset go, or let Sunset … why did Sunset get mercy, but you weren’t going to show any to Pyrrha?” asked Penny.

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. “That is a very good question, Miss Polendina.”

“What’s the answer?” asked Penny, without malice.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “The answer is that I must balance at all times the greatest possible good for the greatest possible number,” he said. “Miss Nikos … to have lost Miss Nikos would have been a great shame, a tragedy even, but it would not have been nearly so much as the tragedy of letting the full power of the Fall Maiden pass into the hands of Miss Fall. I had to weigh the loss of Miss Nikos’ one life against the potential loss of life that could come if Salem gained control of the powers of one of the four maidens — or worse, the Relic of Choice. By the same token, I had to weigh the lives that Miss Shimmer might yet go on to save as part of Team Sapphire, in the course of her duties, against … well, that is the point, isn’t it? Against what? No punishment that I could inflict on Miss Shimmer would bring back Mister Lark or the people of Vale who tragically perished during the Breach, but punishing Miss Shimmer, banishing her from the school, from her team, might cause further death and devastation thanks to Miss Shimmer’s absence.”

Penny cringed a little. “Um … Professor—”

“So you let her go because of the lives that she might save?” Ruby demanded.

“Including the lives of you and your teammates, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin reminded her.

Ruby ignored that. That hadn’t justified what Sunset had done, and it didn’t justify what Professor Ozpin had not done either. “What about the lives that Sunset might have taken if she’d been put in that same situation again and made that same choice again?”

“In my judgement, Miss Shimmer would not make that choice again,” Professor Ozpin replied. “By contrast, considering that Miss Shimmer saved Amber, and Miss Nikos, I think that my judgement that it was more prudent, as well as more charitable, to leave Miss Shimmer where she is has been vindicated by events.”

“Professor—” Penny murmured.

“I don’t buy that, Professor, not for one moment,” Ruby insisted, taking another step forward. “You’re arguing from things that have happened but which you had no way of knowing would happen; it’s no better than Sunset saying that she didn’t think Vale would fall when she made her choice down in that tunnel; just because Vale didn’t fall doesn’t make it okay, and just because Sunset did a couple of good things—”

“Miss Rose,” General Ironwood said firmly, “you’ve made your point. You’re on the verge of making it repeatedly. If you were addressing me, you would stand on the threshold of Disrespect.”

Ruby swallowed. That might be the first crack of ice beneath her feet, but she was fast approaching the point where she was past caring. “What Sunset did was wrong—”

“Yeah,” Uncle Qrow said. “Yeah, it was. But truth is, out in the real world, out in the field, we don’t always have the luxury of keeping our consciences spotlessly clean. Especially not in this fight.”

Ruby blinked. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when you fight in the shadows, you’re going to end up getting dirty,” Qrow declared. He walked towards her. “Now, I’ve never worked with anyone who put a whole city in danger before — unless you count Raven — but I—” He glanced at Professor Ozpin. “Can I tell her about my little trip?”

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment, before he nodded silently.

“Thanks,” Qrow muttered. He returned his attention to Ruby. “I’m off to Mistral in the morning, on some business for Oz; your teammates can tell you why, it’s based on what we learned from that Cinder girl. The point is, when I get to Mistral, my contacts aren’t fancy old blood types with mansions up at the top of the hill, they’re a bunch of lowlifes; huntsmen, sure, but they moonlight as enforces for the criminal gangs; some of them are just straight up crooks themselves.”

Ruby licked her lips. “Are any of them … murderers?”

Uncle Qrow took his flask out of his pocket and took a swig from it. “They’ve killed, at least some of them have. I never asked why or whatever. Some things, it’s better not to know if you have to work with someone.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Why do you have to work with them?”

“Because I’m not just a fighter; I’m a spy,” Uncle Qrow said. “This job isn’t always fighting Salem’s agents, it’s not always being the shining hero taking out the bad guys; sometimes, it’s keeping my ears open, hearing things on the wind, gathering rumours and whispers and putting the pieces together. Sometimes, it’s paying attention to who's been flashing their money around in the criminal underworld, who's trying to buy dust — or hire people to steal it. To do my job, I need to deal with the same kind of shady people that our enemies do, because I guarantee that they aren’t holding their noses at the thought of getting their consciences dirty like that. And when it comes to someone like your friend—”

“She’s not my friend,” Ruby said firmly.

Qrow winced. “Sorry, but when it comes to someone like her … suppose that Salem got hold of her? Then what would she do?”

“Sunset wouldn’t do that,” Penny declared. “Sunset would never, that’s not … Sunset made a mistake, but that’s not who she is.”

“Seems like she’s made who she is pretty clear,” Qrow said harshly. “But that’s my point: sometimes, for the sake of the mission, for the sake of protecting the world, for the sake of everyone who gets to sleep sound in their bed at night, we have to deal with, or even work with, people we find disgusting.”

Ruby couldn’t help but notice that that didn’t really line up with anything that Professor Ozpin had said. Although, even if Professor Ozpin had said it, she wasn’t sure how much she would have liked to hear it. It certainly wasn’t something that anyone had mentioned to her before she went to Beacon.

“You’ve never talked about that sort of thing before,” she said softly.

“Of course not!” Qrow exclaimed. “I just told you it was disgusting. You think I want you thinking about me like that? I don’t really want to think about myself like that, and I didn’t want you having to think about yourself like that, but … if you’re going to be a part of this, then at some point you and Yang will have to learn — and accept — that you don’t get to wear shining armour for very long in this circle. Sooner or later, you’ll have to blacken it up for the sake of the mission.

“It doesn’t make what Sunset did okay, but it does make Oz’s decision … I get it. It might not seem like the right call, but that’s how it has to be sometimes. We’re defending the world here; we don’t get the luxury of scruples about how we do it.”

That struck home, given that it was what Ruby herself had thought on the way up here: you couldn’t be willing to sacrifice lives for the sake of the cause, but not be willing to sacrifice principles.

She just hadn’t considered that the principle she might be called upon to sacrifice was ‘don’t work with people who cause the deaths of innocent people.’

She was beginning to see the appeal to taking a firm stand and declaring that, no, your principles were worth more than anything else, even the world.

But then that led to Sunset’s choice down in the tunnel: my friends are my principles, and I won’t give them up.

The other way around, rather: my principles are my friends, and I’ll let Vale burn for their sake.

Ruby didn’t want to be the same as Sunset. She wasn’t the same as Sunset; she was capable of making sacrifices if required.

But this sacrifice? This felt … surely, there had to be limits?

Uncle Qrow having made his opinions firmly known — and while Ruby didn’t altogether like them, she could understand how he came by them … she wondered how many of his principles he had sacrificed for the sake of this battle and what it had cost him to do it?

How much had he been keeping from them? How many scars had he been hiding?

She would have given him a hug except … it didn’t really seem appropriate in the circumstances.

But he had made his opinions clear, and so Ruby looked to Professor Goodwitch, who had given some indications that she was more on Ruby’s side.

Professor Goodwitch spoke with a slight sigh in her voice. “I’m sorry that you had to experience this, Miss— Ruby. Betrayal, as we are all learning tonight, as some of us have learned before, is a very bitter wound. I fear the sting of it will not leave you for some time.” She paused. “You’re being very brave.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Ruby said softly. “I don’t think getting upset would really help anybody right now.”

Professor Goodwitch smiled. “Nor will keeping everything inside until you can’t contain it anymore. Just remember that my door is always open if you need to talk.”

“About anything?” Ruby asked.

“Anything you wish,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “It will all stay between us.”

“I appreciate that, Professor,” Ruby said.

“But if you are expecting … I must tell you that Qrow has the right of it,” Professor Goodwitch. “I am privileged by my position to be able to escape what your uncle has to deal with, but I am not blind to the fact that this is a desperate battle in which we are engaged.”

“So doesn’t that mean that we need to be sure that everyone who's fighting it with us is of the right quality?” Ruby asked. “I know that we might need to use … informers, or whatever, who aren’t the best or the nicest people, but on our side? Fighting at our side? Leading us into battle?”

Professor Goodwitch hesitated for a moment. “Miss Shimmer … would not have been my choice, by any means, to be a part of this struggle, but ultimately, the decision belongs to Professor Ozpin. After a certain point, we must cease to question that decision and simply abide by it. As we all must, I’m afraid, abide by the presence of Sunset Shimmer.”

“But she’s gone,” Penny blurted out.

The room fell as quiet as it had done when Ruby had first revealed that she knew the truth about what Sunset had done — and about Professor Ozpin’s knowledge of the same.

Professor Ozpin half rose to his feet, his hands resting upon the glass surface of his desk. “'Gone'?” he repeated. “Gone where?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “And I don’t care. You might be willing to just turn a blind eye to what she did, but I couldn’t. I sent her away.”

Qrow groaned. “Ruby—”

“You had no authority to do that, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice sharpening.

“Maybe not,” Ruby admitted. “But I had the right. I had the right that was on my side. Someone like that … work with her if you want to, but she doesn’t belong at Beacon Academy, amongst huntresses.” She looked at Qrow. “Maybe I will have to get dirty in order to do my job, in order to protect people, to keep the world safe, but I don’t have to like it, and I don’t have to welcome it, and I don’t have to go to school with it either. And I … I won’t!” She returned her attention to Professor Ozpin. “I won’t share a room with her, I won’t share a school with her. If Sunset comes back to Beacon, I’m gone. I can’t swallow that, I won’t. Not at … Beacon isn’t the war against Salem. Beacon isn’t in the shadows. Beacon … Beacon should be shining, like its name. It might be necessary to fight Salem in the dark, but darkness has no place here at this school.”

She was aware that he might choose Sunset over her. Honestly, a part of Ruby expected that he would pick Sunset over her, and if he did … then she would leave, just as she had said she would. She would leave, and ask Iona Rockshow if she still had a place in her organisation for an academy drop-out, but one whose heart, whose soul, whose principles were still the same as when Miss Rockshow had made her that offer in the Lord Mayor’s Palace.

She hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, but she was prepared for the fact that it might.

Professor Ozpin glanced downwards. “Very well, Miss Rose,” he murmured. “Miss Shimmer is … dismissed, from the school, at least.”

Ruby’s eyes widened a little. It … he had chosen her? He had chosen her?

“Thank you, Professor,” she whispered.

“Please don’t thank me, Miss Rose; I take no joy in this at all,” Professor Ozpin muttered. “But it seems that the matter has been taken out of my hands.” He paused. “You should be thankful that, as I have said, I am a great believer in mercy.” He looked away from her, towards Professor Goodwitch. “Glynda, in the morning, will you please find Miss Shimmer — I expect courtesy to lead her to call upon Lady Nikos, so I suggest you start there — and tell her that, if it is at all convenient for her, I should very much like to retain her services in the great enterprise in which we are engaged. Tell her that some means to assist her in living can be found and please tell her how sorry I am that things have come to this.”

“Of course, Professor,” Professor Goodwitch said stiffly. “It will be as you say.”

Ruby said nothing. She was in doubt that, as well as giving order to Professor Goodwitch, Professor Ozpin had also been speaking for her … benefit, for want of a better word. He had been letting her know that, although he was willing to go along with her up to a point, he didn’t like it, and he was also reminding her that, at the end of the day, he was in charge, and she wasn’t, and he was going to follow his own judgement as to who was fit to serve him in his battle against Salem, not hers.

She supposed she couldn’t complain about that … at all, really. She didn’t like it, but Uncle Qrow had just made clear that he had to work with people who he didn’t really like having to work with, people who made him feel dirty, who stained him with their own sins. He’d made clear to her that that was the price of keeping the world safe, and a heavy price, for all that the scars it left weren’t visible. Professor Ozpin thought that Sunset had a lot to offer, he’d thought that it was worth keeping her at Beacon, and he thought that, at the very least, it was worth keeping her in the fight against Salem.

Maybe he was even right about the last part; Sunset was skilled, she was smart; if you trusted her, then Ruby could see why you would want her around.

Ruby didn’t — couldn’t — trust her anymore, but as Professor Ozpin had just reminded her, she wasn’t the boss.

Ruby had been willing to insist that Sunset didn’t belong at Beacon, and Professor Ozpin had given her that, even though he didn’t agree with her; she couldn’t now insist that he cut all ties with her, not least because…

Well, not least because Professor Ozpin might actually be right. Maybe lives would be saved by Sunset in future. Maybe.

And if she continued to press the subject, if she continued to insist that Sunset had no place amongst them at all, then it would be her that was crossing the line, putting her principles ahead of the greater good.

Sunset was gone from Beacon; that was the main thing. Let her do what she could, where she could; Ruby just hoped that their paths didn’t cross again.

“But … who is going to lead Team Sapphire?” asked Penny.

Professor Ozpin sat down again. He looked at Ruby.

Ruby’s back straightened.

Professor Ozpin glanced at General Ironwood. “James, I know that this is irregular, but may I please borrow Miss Polendina to make up the numbers on Team … Team Sapphire, as we shall continue to call it for now? I wouldn’t ask, but Miss Polendina is transferring to Beacon anyway, so—”

“It’s fine,” General Ironwood assured him. “It’s not as though I haven’t been stealing Belladonna for a while now. Turnabout is fair play, after all.”

“Thank you, James,” Professor Ozpin said. He paused for a moment. “Miss Polendina, welcome to Team Sapphire. I would like you to take the lead for now.”

“Penny?!” Ruby cried.

“Me?” Penny exclaimed. “You … you want … this isn’t very funny Professor Ozpin!”

Professor Ozpin didn’t even blink. “And what makes you think that I am joking, Miss Polendina?”

“Because I can’t be the leader!” Penny cried. “I … I don’t know how.”

“Very few people do, when they begin to lead,” Professor Ozpin told her. “But this is, after all, a place of learning.” He smiled. “And you have shown a willingness to learn, Miss Polendina, to grow, to change; if you had not, you would not be transferring to Beacon at all. But you are, and you have, and that is one of the most important qualities for a leader to possess.”

Penny hesitated for a second. “What are some of the other important qualities for a leader to possess?”

“A sense of connection to your teammates, which I know you possess,” Professor Ozpin replied, “and a willingness to help them; that last remains to be seen, but I have hope.”

“Congratulations, Penny,” General Ironwood said, offering her a slight bow from the waist.

“Um, thank you, General,” Penny murmured, curtsying a little to him in return. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready for this, but I’ll try my best! I promise, I’ll do my very best; I won’t give you reason to regret this.”

“Thank you, Miss Polendina, I am sure that I shall not,” Professor Ozpin said. “Was there anything else, Miss Rose?”

Is this my punishment? Are you doing this to spite me? Is this because you didn’t like what I did? “No, Professor,” Ruby said, in a dull voice. “That’s all. Thank you.” She could not stop — she might not have wished to stop — the bitterness creeping into her voice.

“Then I wish you good night, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said. “Miss Polendina.”

“Goodnight, Professor,” Penny said. “Goodnight, everyone.”

“Goodnight,” Ruby muttered, as she turned to go, letting Penny follow behind her — leader or not — as she walked with slow, heavy, trudging steps back towards the elevator.

As she made her way into the lift, her thoughts were not in Professor Ozpin’s office. Nor were they in the elevator itself as it began to grind its way downwards, carrying her and Penny—

Her new team leader, Penny.

Down towards the ground.

Ruby’s thoughts were all in her own mind, moving as fast as her semblance.

Penny, the team leader. Penny, the team leader. Penny, who was still just a kid really, Penny who barely understood anything, Penny who was still figuring out the world, Penny who didn’t really understand what it took to be a good huntress, Penny—

Penny her friend.

Penny who had been here for her, who was literally right here for her.

Penny who hadn’t asked for this.

Penny who didn’t deserve to be the target of Ruby’s ire.

Perhaps it’s time to admit that I did want to be the leader.

Okay. I wanted to be the leader.

I wanted to show that I was right. I wanted to show that I could do a better job than Sunset, that my way, the right way, was … well, that it was the right way.

I wanted to show that the right way was also the righteous one.

I wanted to show that I could do it, just like my mom did.

Except Professor Ozpin already told me that he thought that making Mom the team leader was a mistake, and he wished he’d given the job to somebody else, so I guess it was always unlikely that he was going to give it to me.

But still … why Penny?

Penny had been looking away from Ruby, shoulders hunched a little bit, hands clasped together, looking as though she were trying to appear inconspicuous. Her green eyes flickered towards Ruby, as she noticed Ruby looking at her. “Ruby?” she asked. “Is … is everything okay? I didn’t know that he was going to—”

“You don’t have to apologise, Penny,” Ruby assured her. “In fact, I’m the one who should be apologising to you.”

Penny looked at her, blinking. “Apologise to me? But why?”

“For not doing this sooner,” Ruby said, as she pulled Penny into a hug. “Congratulations, Penny. This is going to be great, I know it.”

Confidence (New)

Confidence

There was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Rainbow said as she got up off the bed and strode across the dorm room. She grabbed the door handle in one hand and pulled the door open.

Penny stood on the other side of the door, alone.

“Hey, Penny,” Rainbow said, leaning sideways a little bit to look around Penny for any evidence of Ruby — or anyone else, for that matter. “No Ruby with you?”

“Uh … no,” Penny murmured. “No, she’s gone back to her — to the dorm room. Um…” She pressed her forefingers together. “Can I come in?”

Rainbow took a step back. “It’s still your room, Penny; you can come in if you want to.”

“Well, actually…” Penny started, but then trailed off, walking in without saying anything. Shutting the door without saying anything too, and doing so quietly, as if she was trying not to make a noise.

“Good evening, Penny,” Ciel said. “We were not expecting you.”

“How did it go?” asked Blake. “With Professor Ozpin.”

“Is Sunset coming back?” asked Rainbow Dash. The best that could be hoped for, in Rainbow’s opinion, was for Professor Ozpin to give Ruby a talking to and set her straight about all of this; since he had known all about what Sunset had done and decided to give her a pass on it, that shouldn’t be that hard.

What Sunset had done … what Sunset had done…

“I … sir, I wasn’t … the grimm, there were … I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sorry, sir.”

“You did your best, Dash. Everyone knows that. I know that.”

If I’d done my best, sir, he’d still be here.

There was nothing glorious about dying. You could stick someone’s picture up on These Are My Jewels until it fell off or turned to mush or blew away in the wind; you could remember them for as long as your memory lasted; you could hold their memories close, but they were still gone, and their loss … their loss was still a tragedy. There were times when Rainbow didn’t understand how someone who had lost their mother so young couldn’t get that.

Rainbow could tell herself that there were things that she would die for, if pushed to it; she would die for Blake, for Twilight, for Applejack or Pinkie or Fluttershy or Rarity; she would die for Ciel if she had to, and as awful as it was to admit it, if that train had been rattling down the line towards Atlas, she probably would have taken a much dimmer view of Sunset’s actions because Atlas was home and heart, while Vale was … not those things, but even with that list, she wouldn’t go looking for ways to sacrifice herself because, like she’d told Sunset, you could only give your life once, so you had an obligation to make it count because you weren’t going to get a do-over if it turned out that you’d wasted your sacrifice.

If Cinder had let the grimm eat all of them before she blew up the mine anyway, then they’d all feel pretty stupid in the next life, wouldn’t they?

And someone would have had to tell Apple Bloom that she was never going to see her big sister again.

Like I had to tell the General that I was too late to save his son. The look in his eyes, that was … she would never forget that look, the way that his eyes had darkened visibly before her own, the way the light had left them.

She was so, so very glad that Apple Bloom hadn’t had to go through that; she was more glad than … than she could say.

What Sunset had done … okay, maybe they had responsibilities to the people of Vale, but what about their responsibilities to the people that they had led into that situation, that incredibly messed-up situation? Especially when Vale had General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin looking out for it, the only people who Applejack and Blake and Pyrrha and Jaune and, yes, Ruby had had looking out for them down in that tunnel were Sunset and Rainbow Dash.

What Sunset had done … okay, Ruby, you win, pulling the trigger herself was not the best thing that Sunset could have done. She ought to have called Cinder’s bluff and made her pull the trigger herself, get the blood on her hands. But at the same time, Rainbow didn’t think that Sunset needed to regret it the way that she did, and she didn’t like the way that Ruby just declared it to be the worst thing ever in that tone that brooked no argument.

What Sunset had done, she had done for the sake of her team, she had done for the sake of the people that she loved, and she had done it all, moreover, because she was scared, because she was in a situation that she hadn’t wanted to be in in the first place, and Cinder yammering away in her ears probably hadn’t helped either.

Sunset had made a mistake. There, Rainbow had said it, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t an even bigger mistake to do what Ruby had done all on her high horse, full of self-righteousness, and kick Sunset out over that mistake because nobody good would ever do anything like that.

Like good people never made mistakes.

Like the best people never made mistakes.

It wasn’t a reason to throw them out on their ear afterwards. And Sunset … Team Sapphire, or whatever it ended up being called next, was better off with Sunset as some part of it than not. Whatever mistakes she had made, Rainbow believed that.

What Ruby had done was a loss to her team, and if Professor Ozpin made her see that — or at least accept it — then so much the better, as far as Rainbow Dash was concerned.

“Rainbow Dash?” Penny asked. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Sorry,” Rainbow said, shaking her head. “Was I thinking too much?” She grinned. “First time for everything, right?”

Penny cocked her head to one side. “Are you okay?”

“I … no, not really,” Rainbow admitted. “This whole business with Sunset, it’s … it’s got me thinking about stuff. Some stuff that I would rather not think about.”

“What kind of stuff?” asked Penny.

“I don’t think—” Blake began.

“A death,” Rainbow said, her voice turning a little hoarse. “A … friend. Before your time.” She frowned. “Penny, will you make me a promise? I know that I don’t have any claim on you, none of us do, I know that we aren’t your real friends, but … please. For … Please. Promise me something.”

Penny cocked her head to one side. “What?”

“There’s nothing grand and glorious about death, Penny,” Rainbow declared. “And don’t let Ruby convince you otherwise.” She paused for a moment. “When it’s an hour to play and the last man in, the last man fights to win the game regardless, and that’s how the schoolboy rallies the ranks, when Atlas is far off, and honour is a word. So fight to win and fight to live. Promise me that, Penny, you won’t just give up and decide that it’s nobler or braver or anything else to quit. Promise me, Penny, that you’ll fight to live, even if that means living to fight another day rather than going out in a blaze of glory. Because it won’t be glorious, not really, especially not for the people you leave behind.”

“I … I don’t know what you’re asking me,” Penny replied. “I won’t abandon my friends—”

“I’m not asking you to do that!” Rainbow said. “It’s partly for your friends that I’m asking this, just … before you lie down and die, at least promise me that you’ll think about everything else that you could do instead; that’s all I’m really asking for.”

“Oh,” Penny said. “Well, of course I can promise you that, that’s easy!”

“I hope so,” Rainbow muttered. “But, anyway, leaving that aside, how did it go?”

Penny’s face fell. “Sunset isn’t coming back.”

“That was always an unlikely outcome,” Ciel said. “Leaving aside whether it was desirable.”

“I mean, Professor Ozpin knew what she’d done, and he was fine with her sticking around,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Did he say why he’d done that?” Blake asked. “Let Sunset stay, I mean.”

“He had a few reasons,” Penny said. “He said that he thought that Sunset would do more good here at Beacon than anywhere else.”

“That’s what I said!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Did he mention Amber?”

“Yes, he did,” Penny replied.

“Right?” Rainbow cried. “Team Sapphire, and all of us, are better off with Sunset inside the tent instead of … wherever she ends up.”

“Six people in Vale are not better off,” Ciel pointed out.

“I never said she didn’t make any mistakes,” Rainbow replied. “But just because someone has made a mistake doesn’t mean that they aren’t good and useful to have around. And besides, you saw how Sunset was; does that seem like the kind of person who would do the same thing over again?”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “How did General Ironwood take it, when he discovered the truth?”

“I don’t really know,” Penny admitted. “He didn’t show much of a reaction. He just kind of stood there. But he stopped Ruby when she started to make the same point to Professor Ozpin over again. He said that she was almost showing disrespect.”

“I see,” Ciel murmured. “Doubtless, it is the general’s respect for Professor Ozpin that prevents him from expressing a view. What is done is done, after all, and wringing of hands and verbal rebukes will not change anything.”

“You could say the same thing about Sunset,” Rainbow pointed out.

“There is a difference between keeping quiet about something that another has done and actually doing the thing,” replied Ciel. “One must allow others their opinions, after all; Professor Ozpin has his view, shared by you, that Sunset’s utility in the fight against Salem is worth covering up her actions. That is … a view, I suppose. On a strict judgement of utility, severed from all other considerations, I would be hard put to disagree, although I would rather not sever the moral considerations completely.”

“Ruby’s uncle says he sometimes has to work with criminals,” Penny said. “Murderers and thieves, in Mistral and the like.”

“That would explain why he is dressed like one,” Ciel muttered. “Nevertheless, I would prefer to have some standards. My point is, whether or not the business should have been concealed by those who knew of it is a question over which I can concede that people may reasonably disagree. The doing of the business itself, I am afraid is not.”

She paused. “Nevertheless, I am not blind to your concerns. I fear that, in Sunset’s absence, Team Sapphire may prove more fragile than it might seem.”

“That partly depends on whether they stay at three people,” Rainbow said. “Pyrrha’s great, and Ruby’s a good shot, and Jaune has that semblance … but he’s also not that great in a fight, even with that new sword and all the work that Pyrrha’s put into him, so … they could do with a fourth person.”

She looked at Penny. As much as Sunset’s departure was to be regretted, there was at least one way in which it solved the problem of what Penny would do at Beacon next year. After all, everyone had been thinking about how it would be great if Penny could join Team SAPR with her friends, and now, there was a spot available.

I’m sure Sunset wouldn’t mind. She’d probably mind a lot less than anyone else who might take her place.

“Did they say anything about the future of the team?” asked Twilight.

Penny nodded. “They … Professor Ozpin asked me to join Team … Team Sapphire, seeing as I’m going to transfer to Beacon anyway.”

“Result!” Rainbow said. “Congratulations, Penny.”

Penny looked up at her. “Should I be happy?”

“Maybe not, in the circumstances,” Rainbow admitted. “But, you know, you can still admit that this is a good thing for you. This means that you won’t have to worry about making new friends, about being put into a team that doesn’t get you or appreciate you. You’ll be in the bosom of the people who love you best of all.”

“But I didn’t want it like this!” Penny cried.

Rainbow put a hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I get that, Penny, believe me. We all get that. But we aren’t always fortunate enough to get exactly what we want in precisely the way we want it, so it’s important to remember the bits of good luck that we have; otherwise, you just end up getting overwhelmed by all the bad.”

“But maybe don’t seem too pleased in the circumstances,” Blake murmured. “So, who’s going to be the leader of this team? Is it Ruby, as she thought, or is it Pyrrha?”

“It…” Penny bowed her head. “It’s me.”

“It’s you?” Rainbow repeated. “S—” She bit that back before she could actually say it, because judging by the way that Penny was standing there and hanging her head like a tired out old horse, she hadn’t come here in order to be put down on her fitness for leadership. And, you know, why not Penny? Maybe she wasn’t everyone’s idea of what a leader should be, but neither was Trixie, and she was a pretty good team leader.

The one thing that concerned Rainbow Dash about Penny’s ability to lead the team was whether or not she could fake it. Penny, bless her, wore her heart on her sleeve, which wasn’t a bad thing by any means, but as leader that was something she couldn’t always afford.

Could she put it away?

Time would tell, Rainbow supposed. At the very least, she ought to be given the chance.

Rainbow grinned. “Why didn’t you say so earlier, Penny? Congratulations!” She put her hands on her hips. “How does it feel?”

“Terrifying,” Penny said. “Professor Ozpin said that I’d do fine, and I promised him that I’d do my best, but … I don’t know the first thing about being a leader! And Professor Ozpin said that was fine because I’m here at a school to learn—”

“A very valid point.”

“But what if we have to go on a mission, like to Mountain Glenn or something?” Penny asked. “What if I have to actually step up?” She paused. “That’s why I came here, to see you. I … I was hoping that you could give me some advice.”

“Well, every leader is different, Penny,” Rainbow said. “That’s lesson number one.” She held up one finger of her right hand. “You won’t be a good leader if you just try and copy someone else, even a successful leader, because part of being a good leader is using what makes you you and making it work for you. Yes, even though there is an element of faking it — which we’ll get to in a second — you can’t be too obvious a fake, or everyone will see through it, and nobody will take you seriously. You have to find a style that feels like an extension of your personality.”

Penny blinked. “But what does that mean?”

“It means that you are friendly, outgoing, and kind-hearted,” Ciel said. “And your leadership should seek to reflect and make use of those qualities, not hide them.”

“Exactly; if you tried to act like a hard-ass in front of Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune, it would be ridiculous, not least because they know that isn’t you,” Rainbow said. “Luckily, you’re already their friend, so you’ve got that covered, and you don’t need to stop being their friend just because you’re their leader, you … leadership needs to be believed, that’s the most important thing. Ninety percent of leadership is convincing other people: that you know what you’re doing, that their lives are safe in your hands, that you know how to win, how to get to where you need to go. And to be convincing, it needs to feel like it came from you.”

“But what about strategy, and—?”

“That’s lesson number two,” Rainbow said, adding a second finger. “Don’t feel like you have to do everything yourself; you have a team so that you can rely on them and use their strengths as well as your own. If there’s someone on your team who is a good strategist, use that, use Pyrrha to take the lead in battle while you support from the mid-range, use Ruby to scout ahead. Or don’t; you’re the leader, so you can make your own judgement about who is best placed where, but the point is that you don’t need to know everything; you just need to know who can do what.

“Which brings us to lesson number three,” Rainbow went on, raising the third finger on her hand. “Confidence. You can’t be nervous, you can’t be afraid … okay, let me unpack that one a little bit more; you can acknowledge that things are tough. In fact, it’s essential that you do acknowledge it when things are tough, because — and this goes back to lesson one again — if you pretend like everything is cool and it’s all going to be a breeze, then you’ll just come over like you’re full of it when the going gets tough, and nobody will take you seriously. That’s why part two of every speech has to be about how things aren’t that great.”

“Really?”

“Yes, every speech has to have five paragraphs saying pretty much the same thing in the same order,” Rainbow informed her. “They’re kind of boring … but it’s been that way for like a thousand years or more, so I guess there’s a good reason why it hasn’t changed in all that time. Anyway, the point is, while you have to acknowledge that things are rough, you also have to — you absolutely have to — make sure that everyone knows that they’re going to get through this. Because you have the plan. Because you have advantages.”

“What if we don’t—?”

“If you don’t have some advantages, Penny, you shouldn’t be fighting,” Rainbow said. “Call that lesson number four. You should always know how and why you are going to win a fight, and then your job as leader is to make sure your team knows it too. So, no offence, no more of this slumping your shoulders and clasping your hands together stuff.” She clasped Penny by the shoulders. “But really, being a leader isn’t all that hard. Just keep your chin up, and it’ll all be fine. You’ll do great, I promise.”

Confidence.

Confidence.

Rainbow's words rang in Penny's ears as she walked down the corridor towards the Team SA—

Towards her dorm room. Her dorm room. She was a part of Team SAPR now.

She was the leader of Team SAPR.

To be a part of this team was a dream come true.

To lead it was the last thing she wanted.

And she wasn't even allowed to say so because a good leader was confident.

Most of the time, anyway.

It probably wouldn't be a good start if she went into the dorm room and started moaning or moping or … other things that might or might not start with an M.

Confidence.

But confidence in what?

Even the dream of her joining Team SAPR had been … well, the fact that it wasn't really Team SAPR anyway kind of put a damper on things. Maybe the name would change — Penny supposed that it would have to, although even to think about it at this point felt wrong, felt wrong on a deep, endoskeletal level, as though she were in a rush to jump into Sunset's grave and she wasn't even dead — but even if it didn't, it still wouldn't be quite the same team that Penny had dreamed of joining.

Not without Sunset.

Yes, she had done a bad thing, but all the same … she was Penny's friend. And Penny would miss her.

Perhaps they would see each other again. Penny hoped so, although Ruby probably wouldn't feel the same way.

In the meantime…

In the meantime, Penny was supposed to lead Sunset's team.

With confidence, if she could find any.

She had to find some. She had to do her best; she had to do better than her best, she had to do a good job, not only for Ruby and Jaune and Pyrrha, but also for Sunset too.

Sunset would want her friends to be in safe hands.

Penny remembered Mountain Glenn; she remembered when they had still been above ground, before they had descended down into the dark; in particular, Penny remembered the way that Sunset had gone down the line, with a few words for everyone to make them feel better. It seemed that Sunset hadn't been feeling that great herself, considering what she had done afterwards, but all the same, she had made everyone else feel better, including Penny herself.

Now, it was Penny's job to make everyone feel better.

She just had to find the words.

Penny thrust her shoulders back — maybe a little too far back; it felt as though she was about to fall over — as she approached the door.

Her door.

She could do this. She could do this for Sunset and everyone else. She had found her freedom, and her Freedom; she had done everything that she had ever wanted to. She could do this too.

Confidence.

Father, I may not be showing off everything that I can do in the Colosseum the way you wanted, but if I can make a success of this, if I can do this the way that Professor Ozpin thinks I can, then … that’ll be worth more to me.

And maybe, if you find out about it, it’ll mean something to you too.

It would definitely mean something to Dad. He would be overjoyed when she told him about it; it was a pity that she didn’t have time to call him and tell him, but she didn’t. She’d already delayed enough by going to talk to Rainbow Dash. If she waited any longer, then they might start to think she was scared.

It was the same reason she couldn’t call Sunset — that, and she might be driving and Penny didn’t want to cause an accident.

No, she couldn’t stand here — or anywhere else, for that matter — calling other people to tell them the good news or getting their advice on how to do this.

She just had to do it.

With confidence.

What would Sunset do?

No … what will I do?

Penny opened the door and stepped into the— into her dorm room.

Everyone else was already there; her friends were already there, her teammates were already there, her … the members of her team were already there.

And Amber, of course.

And Dove too. Penny hadn’t been sure whether he would still be here or not. She didn’t mind Dove, not by any means; he seemed like a perfectly nice young man, and Amber clearly liked him a lot — in some ways, he reminded her of Jaune, and not just because they were both blond with blue eyes, although there was that too — but at the same time, Penny couldn’t really that she knew him very well.

He was around, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable having him around, but at the same time, this might have been a little easier without him here.

But she wasn’t going to ask him to go; that wouldn’t have been very nice.

Amber was sitting on Sunset’s bed, holding onto Sunset’s stuffed unicorn — Amber’s stuffed unicorn now, the same way that Sunset’s team was now Penny’s team — with both arms, while Dove sat next to her, one arm around her shoulders. Pyrrha and Jaune were sat much the same way, only without the stuffed unicorn; Pyrrha was resting her head on Jaune’s shoulder. Ruby was sat in the window seat, except that she got up when Penny came in.

Everyone looked at her as the door shut behind her.

Confidence.

“Salutations,” Penny said, because Rainbow had told her that it was best to be herself — well, sort of, mostly; it seemed like it kind of depended; she had to fake it a little bit but not be too fake, and so … salutations.

She couldn’t quite say it with her usual enthusiasm, however; that wouldn’t have felt right, and she couldn’t have managed it anyway.

It was hard work being a leader, wasn’t it? Even a word was a hard choice.

Don’t hesitate. Don’t hesitate. Get it all out in one go. “I don’t know if you’ve heard—”

“Ruby told us,” Jaune said. “You’re the new team leader now, right?”

“That’s right,” Penny said. “Professor Ozpin has asked me to lead Team— to lead this team. F—” She stopped herself from saying ‘for now, anyway.’ That might not have seemed very confident.

Pyrrha raised her head off Jaune’s shoulder. “I suppose … it feels as though congratulations are in order, and yet, at the same time, it does not … if it does not upset you to say so.”

Penny smiled, but only a little bit. “I understand, Pyrrha.” She did what she’d seen Pyrrha do on TV once, which was to speak kind of slowly so that she had more time to think about what she was going to say before she said it without actually seeming to need to stop and think. Penny had thought that was pretty clever at the time, and it would certainly come in handy now. “There was a time, until very, very recently, when I would have loved to have been a part of this team. I still do love the fact that I get to be a part of this team. Ever since I met the three of you — Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune — you’ve all been so kind to me. You’ve offered me nothing but kindness, respect, and friendship. To be honest, you were the main reason why I wanted to come to Beacon in the first place. I didn’t want to go back to Atlas and be without you, even though I didn’t know exactly where in this school I’d end up. The idea that I’d end up here, with you, it would have seemed like the most amazing thing in the world.

“It still is amazing. But things are different now. Things are different, and I’m not going to pretend that they’re not. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t miss Sunset, and I’m sure that some of you miss her as well, because Sunset was all of our friend, or at least, I think she tried to be.

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to take Sunset’s place, I didn’t want to be the leader of this team. But Professor Ozpin has asked me to be your leader, and I know that if we work together, if we work as hard as you’ve all worked up until now, then we can still be the great team that Team Sapphire was before.”

Now Penny paused; she had to pause for a second because even speaking slowly, she’d run out of things to say. No, wait, no, she hadn’t! No, there was something else.

“I know that none of you asked for me to be your leader,” Penny said, “but now that I am your leader, if you’ll follow me, I promise that I’ll give one hundred percent — which is the maximum that you can give, in spite of the way people talk about a hundred and ten percent, by the way — to serving you and to being the team leader that you deserve. Because you guys are all amazing. You’re the most precious people in the whole world to me.”

“Don’t say that,” Ruby said sharply.

Penny blinked. She’d been hoping for a more supportive reaction, to be honest. “Huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Ruby repeated. “Sunset … Sunset thought that, and it led her astray. The people come first, and the mission, not us.”

Penny didn’t say anything to that. She felt as though she should, she almost felt as though … she felt a little bit annoyed that Ruby had said that, to be honest. She supposed that she could understand why, but it also felt as though Ruby was deliberately challenging her. No, no, Ruby wouldn’t do that, would she? Not after what she’d said in the elevator; she’d seemed so supportive.

So why was she trying to cut Penny down now?

Probably, she wasn’t; probably, she was just afraid that Penny would end up making the same mistakes that Sunset did.

That didn’t mean that it helped Penny to say it like that.

Penny knew, or thought she knew, that she needed to say something, to reply to Ruby, but … but she couldn’t think. What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to take back what she’d said? But what would it mean if she did?

Pyrrha got to her feet, with one hand smoothing out her sash. “I…” She glanced at Ruby. “I accept your words in the spirit in which they were intended, Penny,” she said. “Good words, and gracious.” She paused for a second. “It is a weighty promise that you have just made to us.”

“I’m not Sunset,” Penny said. “You can speak normally to me if you want to.”

Pyrrha laughed, and as she laughed, she covered her mouth with one hand. “Forgive me, Penny. It’s just that there are times when it is very easy to slip into a higher register. Nevertheless … that is quite a promise.”

“I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t mean to keep it,” Penny said.

Pyrrha nodded. “Then I, in turn, promise that while you remain our leader, I will follow you and fight at your command, with all the strength that is at mine.”

She put her right over her heart and bowed from the waist, her ponytail falling down over her shoulder to touch the floor.

Penny stared. Pyrrha was bowing to her. Pyrrha was bowing to her. Pyrrha was bowing to her?

“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she realised that a leader probably shouldn’t whisper, and so, she raised her voice to say, “Let’s do our best together.”

Jaune smiled. “Glad to have you onboard, Penny,” he said. “Welcome to Team Sa—” He stopped. “That’s a good point. What are we calling ourselves now? Team—”

“Papyrus?” suggested Pyrrha.

“I was going to say Paper, but sure, I guess that would work too,” Jaune said. “P-A-P-R, right?”

“A direct substitution makes sense,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although there are alternatives … P-R-A-N for … prawn or praline.” She looked at Penny. “Unless Professor Ozpin has already chosen a new name for us.”

“No,” Penny said, “he didn’t, and I don’t think that we should change the name. At least not yet. I suppose that we’ll have to change it eventually, but I’m in no rush. I wanted to be a part of Team Sapphire, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to be a part of Team Sapphire, at least for a little while.”

Jaune frowned. “But it doesn’t have your name in it.”

“There are two Ps in Sapphire, aren’t there?” Penny asked. “Or am I misspelling?”

“No, you aren’t,” Pyrrha said. “But as the leader—”

“Does it matter?” Penny asked. “Is it really that important? Is it really the most important thing going on right now?” She paused. “It’s like Ciel’s holy book sort of says: the rules were made for us; we weren’t made for the rules. We can change them if we want to. We don’t have to be bound by people telling us that this is the way things are, and the way they are is the way they have to be. If we did, then I wouldn’t be here at all to be your leader, and we wouldn’t be having this discussion. So, please, let’s just stay Team Sapphire, with two Ps, for now. I don’t want to feel like I’ve just stepped into Sunset’s shoes. I don’t want to feel like we’re throwing her away and forgetting about her.”

Ruby snorted. “Maybe we—”

“Ruby?” Penny asked, guessing what Ruby was about to say, but needing her to say it anyway if Penny — or anyone else, for that matter — was to answer.

Ruby glanced at Penny, out of the sides of her eyes, not looking directly at her. She looked out of the window. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Penny asked, taking a step forward. “You can say it, if you want to.”

“I know,” Ruby said softly. “But I don’t. It’s fine. Team Sapphire is … a fine name. It’s our name, no matter what … if that’s what you want to stick with for now, then that’s fine by me.”

“If that is your wish, then we have no grounds to make objections,” Pyrrha said. “I suppose it will make things easier on Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck tomorrow, and…”

Penny looked at her. “And what?”

Pyrrha blinked, and glanced downwards. “I suppose that these … that the allegations made against Sunset—”

“They’re true,” Ruby pointed out.

“Not as far as the rest of Vale is concerned, and must be concerned, no?” Pyrrha asked. “Sunset may be gone, but we must not concede that there was any truth in the words that drove her off, or … Professor Ozpin may escape without censure, his involvement being unknown, but First Councillor Emerald will be destroyed by this unless we all agree that all is false and groundless, no?”

“No, you’re right,” Ruby said, sounding a little bit like she was going to sigh, only she didn’t. “I get that. That’s why sending Sunset away was all I did, although even that might be too much for … was Rainbow right? Will people believe that Sunset’s guilty because she’s gone?”

“Does the answer change anything?” asked Jaune.

“The answer means that we should probably try and get ahead of it, think of something to explain why Sunset isn’t here right now,” Ruby said.

“She’s … disappeared on solo missions before,” Jaune pointed out.

Ruby looked at him. “So we lie to everyone?”

“Aren’t we talking about how best we can lie to everyone?” Jaune replied. “About what Sunset did, about what the First Councillor knew? Hasn’t he been lying to everyone, and we’ve accepted that it’s for the best for Vale if nobody realises it? What’s one more lie on top of that? Sunset’s gone on a mission, she had to go, and then … maybe Ozpin will come up with something, but if he doesn’t, then we can say that Sunset … decided that being a huntress wasn’t right for her after all, and she dropped out of school. That happens sometimes, right? I don’t know, but it feels like it must.”

“It is not unheard of,” Pyrrha murmured. “It feels like a calumny on Sunset, but—”

“Less than she deserves,” Ruby declared.

Pyrrha didn’t say anything, but Penny thought that a part of her wanted to.

“If … if Sunset is only gone on a mission,” Dove said, speaking for the first time since Penny came in. “How are you going to explain Penny as the team leader?”

“You don’t have to explain it,” Penny said. “It can be our little secret for now. I hang out with you guys a lot anyway, so seeing me with you won’t surprise anyone, and there’ll be no need for a team leader in the next couple of days anyway.”

“We hope, at least,” said Pyrrha. “But are you sure about this? Hiding, lying?”

“It wouldn’t be my first time,” Penny reminded her, smiling a little. “Although I’m still not very good at actually lying, so if you could just not bring it up or get people to talk about something else, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Very well,” Pyrrha murmured. “If you’re sure about this.”

“Thanks, Penny,” Ruby said. “I can’t imagine it’s as easy as you’re making it sound, but … thanks. It’ll be a big help.”

“I understand,” Penny said. “All of this is pretty complicated right now.”

“And unfair on everyone,” Amber said quietly.

“Everyone’s doing the best that they can,” Penny said. “That’s all that we can do right now: do our best and cheer for Pyrrha in the tournament tomorrow.”

Pyrrha sighed. “The tournament. It seems so far away now. Far away and unimportant.”

“I guess,” Penny admitted. “But I’d still really like to see you win.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Is that so? Then I will do my best not to disappoint you.”

“In which case, perhaps you’d better get some rest,” Jaune suggested. “Perhaps we’d all better get some rest; it’s been a long night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Ruby agreed. “Things will look … I don’t know if they’ll look brighter in the morning, but they couldn’t look worse than they do right now.”

“Uh … speaking of sleep,” Dove said. “I talked to Jaune earlier, and he agreed that I could spend the night here … when it seemed as though there was going to be a bed free.”

It took Penny a second to work out what he meant. “Oh, don’t worry; that’ll be fine,” she said. “You can still spend the night here; I don’t need to sleep.”

Dove frowned. “You … don’t need to sleep? At all?”

“No,” Penny said. “But don’t worry about that either; I won’t disturb anyone. I can be perfectly silent when necessary.”

Dove blinked. “I … I don’t understand.”

“There are things about me that you don’t know, you and Amber,” Penny explained, “but if I’m going to be the leader of Team Sapphire, since I am the leader of Team Sapphire, perhaps you should know so that there aren’t so many secrets between us: I’m a robot created by Atlesian scientists.”

“A robot?” Dove repeated.

“What’s a robot?” asked Amber.

“You know,” Dove said. “The metal men on guard in the grounds outside?”

“The white ones?” Amber asked. “That make those stompy noises when they walk?”

“Yes,” Dove said. “That’s right.”

“But Penny doesn’t look anything like them,” Amber said.

“There’s more than one type of robot,” Ruby pointed out.

“But they’re machines, aren’t they?” Amber said. “They aren’t people, they’re just … things! Penny has a semblance.”

“Because I am a person,” Penny said. “I’m a person and a robot too.”

“But robots aren’t people,” Amber replied. “So how can you be a person and a robot?”

“Because I am?” Penny guessed.

It was a harder question to answer than it seemed, especially if you started with the assumptions that robots couldn’t be people. Which seemed a little … unkind, although Penny knew that Amber didn’t actually mean any unkindness by it. She supposed that Amber hadn’t really come across any robots at all until very recently, growing up so far from Atlas.

“I have wires inside of me instead of blood vessels,” she went on. “I have a metal endoskeleton instead of bones. But I also have aura and a semblance, and I feel…” Penny hesitated, which she knew that she shouldn’t do as a leader but also couldn’t help herself. “I feel everything. I feel the touch of a hand in mine; I feel the touch of the wind against my cheek, the fall of rain running through my hair and down my forehead. I feel the warmth of a hug from a friend, the warmth I feel towards all my friends, the love I feel towards them, because I feel love; I feel it inside every part of me. And if that’s not enough to make me a person, then … I don’t know what is.”

Amber got up off the bed. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said.

“You didn’t,” Penny said, although she couldn’t stop herself from hiccupping after she said it. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“All the same, I’m sorry,” Amber said. “You are a person. A person who doesn’t need to sleep, apparently.”

“Nope!” Penny declared. “Because my batteries can be recharged from the mains. So you can keep Sunset’s bed, and Dove can take … Sunset’s other bed, and I’ll be fine.” She looked around the room. “I hope we’ll all be fine, whatever the future holds for us.”

And that includes you, too, Sunset.

Good luck, wherever you are, and wherever you go.

“You know,” Jaune said, “things might be kind of complicated at the moment, but there is one thing that Penny can do right now.”

“One thing?” Penny asked. “What’s that?”

“You can put your initial on the wall with the rest of ours,” Jaune said. “I mean, Blake did, and she wasn’t even a real member of the team. So how about it? You want to stick a P up there?”

“Would I?” Penny cried. “Yes! Yes, I would; I absolutely would.”

To join Team SAPR was a dream come true for her, but it was a dream that wasn’t exactly turning out quite the way that she had dreamt it.

But this? This one part of her dream? This one part, tonight, could still come true.

And on a night that had turned very complicated, that was enough for her.

I Was Upset (New)

I Was Upset

Aspen Emerald, First Councillor of Vale, did not particularly feel like the First Councillor of Vale as he drove along the deserted street towards Novo's home.

He could have been driven, but he preferred to drive himself, partly for discretion, partly because he didn't want to subject his driver to sitting outside Novo's house all night — what remained of the night — with quite possibly the worst elements of the gutter press for company, and partly because he welcomed the drive as a distraction from his thoughts.

As a distraction, it was only partly working.

Aspen's car was specially modified, a custom job with which he had indulged himself when he became Councillor for the Interior. After years of having to hunch his shoulders and bend his back and generally contort himself into uncomfortable and unhealthy postures because cars were not built to accommodate his antlers — yes, convertibles existed, but driving around with the roof down in the middle of a Valish fall or winter was not exactly ideal either — he had treated himself to a car with a specially raised roof so that he could actually sit up straight and barely feel his antlers touching the ceiling.

There was still the issue that the car wasn't quite wide enough for someone to comfortably sit in the passenger seat next to him, but the lanes of the road constrained how wide a car could be.

Besides, he hadn't had anyone to sit in the front with him since Birch died.

Although there were times…

Aspen flicked the switch to indicate as he turned left, although there was no one to see it or, indeed, to notice if he didn't. Since her abrupt departure from office, Novo had, despite talking about returning to her family home in Mount Aris, lived in her brownstone townhouse in the affluent central suburb of Carabas, a district of wide, well-manicured lawns, garden gnomes performing a variety of whimsical activities, and neatly trimmed privet hedges. It was the sort of place where everyone was asleep in bed at this hour, the sort of place one did not find people loitering in the streets or driving around late at night.

It was not the sort of place one expected to see a flock of black-clad figures upon black motorcycles, with white helmets so that they looked like grimm, or members of the White Fang.

But they were worse than the White Fang; they were journalists, and they were gathered outside of Novo's house. Flashes erupted from their cameras, illuminating the stonework and the natural, unpainted wooden door, reflecting off the brass door-knocker.

The curtains, as far as he could see, were drawn, there was no indication of life inside the house — unless you counted the blue sedan parked on the drive — but the press remained outside regardless, staying just off the property so that they could not be charged with trespass, flashes blazing away.

Aspen supposed he should be grateful there wasn't an airship hovering overhead, but nevertheless, as he pulled up on the other side of the road, unseen and unnoticed for the moment, his prevailing emotion was one of anger.

It was enough to make him wish that they had followed through on the recommendations of the Lachlan Commission and imposed tough regulations on press behaviour — under threat of legal liabilities if they didn't. Novo had argued that it wasn't necessary, and they could open up a dividing line with the other side — not to mention guarantee themselves an easy ride with the press — by opposing it.

That seemed like a mistake now.

And no, the fact that they happened to be right in this case in no way mitigated the fact that they had hacked a young woman's emails — Aspen was in doubt that this whole anonymous tip business was just a smokescreen; the Valish press had form when it came to illegal intrusions into people's privacy — to obtain information she had never intended to be made public.

It was absolutely despicable, the ugliness compounded by the fact that these same people, without a shred of self-awareness, would no doubt spout all manner of pious nostrums about freedom of speech, holding the powerful to account, and all the other crap these parasites came out with to cloak their wickedness in the mask of rectitude.

They still hadn't noticed Aspen's presence, although they soon would. At least they would when he got out of his car and walked across the road to try and get through them into Novo's house.

In the meantime, for just a little while longer, Aspen turned away from watching the watchers, laid both his hands upon the steering wheel, and rested his forehead on his hands.

His antlers tapped the windscreen as he wondered how it had come to this.

He did not know exactly how Vale would react to this, but he could already imagine Leo's smug, smirking face on television trying to make capital out of all this.

Perhaps he should have blamed himself, regretted the decisions he had taken that had led to this, but he did not.

When Aspen had first found out what Sunset Shimmer had done, he had been, to put it mildly, angry. Angry at what she had done, and angry, too, over the unfair defenestration of Novo that had followed on from it.

The two had been conflated in his mind. He had wanted Sunset Shimmer to pay for what she'd done; he had wanted to destroy her for it. That was why, while recognising that it was necessary to keep the whole thing hushed up, he had sent her away on that mission to Arcadia Lake, hoping that she wouldn't come back.

He still thought it was necessary to keep the whole thing hushed up; he still thought his reasons for doing so were, if anything, even better than they had been when Novo had persuaded him of the import. Hatred of the faunus had already risen so much, there was so much more prejudice than there had been against their people … bad enough that the White Fang were involved; at least you could condemn them and their actions, but a Beacon student, a huntress? It would be music to the ears of those who said that the faunus could not be trusted, that they had no place in civilised, human society.

Aspen, not only as a responsible leader, but as a faunus, who hoped to leave his son a Vale where he could grow up without stigma or discrimination, could not give them that satisfaction.

And that was without considering the effects on Vale as a whole, the blow to morale, the likely panic. It was all too much, much too much.

There were some things it was better for the people not to know.

Aspen's belief in Novo's reasoning had only strengthened since then, and as for his feelings towards Sunset Shimmer…

His anger had cooled, helped, it had to be admitted, by that visit from Ozpin. His anger had cooled, and he could now see a little better what Ozpin had seen: a frightened girl who had gotten in over her head and made a mistake, and who would have to live with that mistake for the rest of her life.

And, it had to be said, who had made up for it since, at Arcadia Lake, and more recently by helping to capture Cinder Fall.

In an ideal world, that would have been the end of it. Cinder Fall would have been tried, executed, her body cremated, and with her, all the turmoil of last year would have been turned to ashes and blown away.

Instead … who could say how long this would run for, like a sore that refused to heal?

At least there wasn't … he very much hoped that there wasn't any proof. With nothing but this email, they could deny everything, and there would be no way of contradicting them. Of course, some explanation as to why Skystar had written that email would certainly help, and that was one of the things he was here to discuss with her, and with her mother.

Aspen raised his head and once more glowered at the press beyond. He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they should be reporting on Cinder Fall's arrest, not this! He wanted to summon a police van and bundle the whole pack of them up inside it, but he had given the police enough to do tonight when he had ordered them to set up security around power stations, relay towers, train stations, and water works.

A job for the Defence Force, some would argue, and they might even be right … if one trusted the head of the Defence Force. That discussion over the grimm tonight was making Aspen wonder if he might not have done better to have promoted Sky Beak to the vacant generalship. Yes, there would have been accusations of cronyism, but what had he got by avoiding those accusations? A general who seemingly had no plan as the grimm gathered at the door but to hope they went away by themselves.

Aspen could only hope that, now that he had been given his marching orders, Blackthorn might at least show some competence in executing them.

Speaking of executions…

Aspen got out of his car; if the soft thump of the door shutting after him hadn't given away, then the beeping as locked the car certainly would have.

The press rounded on him like a many-headed monster, turning as though guided by a single will and intellect. Flashes burst in Aspen's face, but he tried to ignore them as he walked forward.

"First Councillor! First Councillor!"

"Are you here in connection with the Skystar Aris email?"

"I'm here visiting a friend," Aspen said.

"Is it true that—?"

"I categorically deny everything that that illicitly — possibly illegally — obtained email accuses me of," Aspen declared as he started to push through the press pack, feeling them pressed against his sides even as he pushed them out his way to his front. "I did not cover up a crime against Vale, nor was one committed. All the people named in that email are entirely blameless."

"Then why are they named?"

"I don't know; why don't you ask whoever obtained this document?" demanded Aspen. "And ask them how they came by it, for that matter."

Aspen had escaped the press of the press like a ship breaking through the ice into open water, and now, he rounded on them, turning to face them as the flashes went off in his face.

"It has now been seven years since the Lachlan Commission's inquiry uncovered disturbing accounts of hacking, bugging, harassment, and illegal surveillance in pursuit of stories, and since then, despite many mea culpas and promises of change, we continue to see the same corrupt and immoral practices in which innocent people have their lives and reputations ruined by an industry that aims at nothing less than power, power derived from the fear that it inspires in others, power without responsibility. Well, I, for one, will not stand for it any longer. You have exhausted the patience of the public, and now, you have exhausted mine too. Watch this space, and remember, you have only yourselves to blame."

The flashes still went off, but there were no more questions shouted at him as he turned his back upon the whole lot of them and walked towards Novo's door.

The door opened a second before he reached it. It was dark inside, too dark to really see, but Aspen plunged inside regardless, slamming the door shut after him.

Novo switched on the lamp that sat on the hall table, illuminating a wood-panelled hallway with a clock on the wall just above the lamp.

Novo stood beside the varnished walnut table. She folded her arms. "'Power without responsibility'?"

"How did you—?"

"You were live on television," Novo explained, with one hand gesturing through the doorway into the living room.

Aspen peeked inside, leaning sideways a little to stick his head through the open doorway. Skystar was sat on the sofa, back hunched, a blanket or a poncho — with the lights off in the living room, it was hard to say for sure — wrapped around her, the lights of the television illuminating her face in constantly changing colours.

Aspen turned his attention to the TV itself, which was showing, in one corner of the screen, an image of Novo's house.

"The First Councillor there, having just entered the building after a tirade against—"

"I don't regret what I said," Aspen declared, ducking back out of the room. "It needed saying."

Novo smiled. "Perhaps it did, but in this circumstance? Not that I don't admire your brass neck." She smiled. "Do you remember when I used to send you out to do the media round? Go out and get grilled on the morning radio?"

Aspen nodded. "I remember."

The smile lingered on Novo's face. "A lot of people would waffle, or flail, or lapse into rote recitation of soundbites. But you would go on the attack; it was almost as if you were trying to hold the public to account on behalf of the party."

"Not the public," Aspen insisted. "Just the media." He paused. "How's Skystar?"

"You just saw, didn't you?" asked Novo.

"Yes, but … that bad, eh?"

Novo nodded. "She hasn't spoken to me. I think she's afraid of my reaction, and I … I don't want her to speak to me if she doesn't want to." She frowned. "What she has told me is that she's asked Sunset Shimmer to come round."

"She's afraid to face you, but she wants to talk to Sunset Shimmer?"

"Apparently. Or feels she ought to, at least," Novo said. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Aspen assured. "My feelings towards Sunset Shimmer have … I don't hate her the way I did. In fact…" He put his hands in his pockets. "God help me, I feel sorry for her. Ozpin has clearly got her involved in something too big for her, and Mountain Glenn is the result. I think he'd say the same. He knows."

"Since when?"

"I don't know," Aspen admitted. "But he came to me defending her. He warned me off her, like I was the dangerous one. I suppose I should give him credit for not throwing her under the bus to protect himself." He paused. "And how are you doing?"

Novo sighed. "I'd feel a lot better if Skystar weren't involved in this at all, but on the whole, I'd rather discuss our strategy than my feelings. What are we going to do?"

"Can we go somewhere else?" asked Aspen. "I feel like an unwanted guest standing here in the hall."

"Well, I beg your pardon for any hurt feelings," Novo said dryly. "Come into the kitchen." She turned around and led the way into a galley kitchen that always surprised Aspen with how narrow it was, so narrow that he had to turn sideways to fit his antlers in. Cupboards loomed out of the walls on either side at about face height, while work surfaces, more cupboards, and an oven hemmed them in below.

Novo opened one of the top cupboards and pulled out a couple of glasses and a bottle of rich, brown liquor.

"Kaledonian whiskey," she said. "Oh, but you're driving, aren't you?"

"What if I weren't?" Aspen asked. "What if I spent the night here instead?"

Novo's eyebrows rose. "Now?"

"I meant sleeping on the couch, obviously," Aspen said.

"Even so, now?"

"Why not now?" asked Aspen. "Alright, maybe not this very night, but … we're both single. We haven't even got divorced. You're not my boss anymore. What is there to object to?"

"The fact that I'm sleeping my way back to high office, perhaps?" Novo suggested. "And the children—"

"Skystar is old enough to understand, surely?"

"Is Bramble?" Novo asked.

Aspen didn't reply, except to say, "I'd like to give happiness another try, while I'm still young enough to enjoy it. I've always liked you, Novo, ever since we were at university."

"I know," Novo replied. "And I've wondered, if we'd given it a try then … of course, if you'd been my husband, you would have had to give up your career."

"Which I would have," Aspen said. "And would have pleased my father no end; he wanted me to go into business. But I wanted to change the world, not just make money in it. But I'd have given that up for … the right reasons."

Novo smiled. "What would we tell the press outside, if you stayed the night?"

"That we were discussing our legal options in response to these libellous accusations and outrageous intrusion into your daughter's privacy?" Aspen suggested. "That I was telling you my brilliant plan to bring our errant press to heel?"

Novo poured him a glass of whiskey.

"The couch," she said, handing him a glass, "is yours."

"Much obliged," Aspen said as he knocked back the sharp-tasting whiskey.

Novo sipped from her glass. "So what's our plan?"

"I've already started it," Aspen said. "We need to change the question, change the narrative. Not 'what did we do?' or 'what did we know?' or 'what was Sunset Shimmer doing visiting your official residence?' but 'who do you trust?'"

"You think people will trust us?" Novo asked sceptically.

"I think huntsmen regularly poll as the most trusted people in society," Aspen said. "I think if we ask the people who they trust: a hero who fought for Vale all through this year and who just tonight captured the real architect of this year's miseries; or the press, who always have an agenda of their own, who frequently report on what they want not on what is and who have been implicated in all manner of scandals over the years… who do you think people will believe, even if it does mean trusting politicians?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds promising," Novo admitted. "But it might be simpler to argue that the whole thing is without a shred of proof."

"Wouldn't we rather nobody went looking for any proof?" asked Aspen. "If it becomes about fact, someone might eventually be able to stand the story up."

Novo nodded slowly. "Odd that they didn't, don't you think? Once they got the email, wouldn't you expect them to try and substantiate it before they blurted the whole thing out and laid themselves open to having it dismissed as baseless speculation?"

"They've spent so long hacking scrolls and computers, they've forgotten what real journalism looks like," muttered Aspen. "Or incompetence is in the water."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Blackthorn has been acting strangely lately too," explained Aspen. "There are grimm gathering outside the city, and he wasn't prepared or preparing to do anything about them."

"Grimm gathering?" Novo repeated. "You buried the lede there, didn't you?"

"They aren't attacking," Aspen assured her. They're just … massing."

"Even so," Novo said, "if Blackthorn won't act, and I agree that does sound odd, then perhaps you should allow General Ironwood—"

"No, I've got a better idea," Aspen said. "As the threat to the outlying villages recedes, we can recall the huntsmen there and use them to spearhead our assault against the grimm."

"In a Valish operation," Novo pronounced approvingly.

"Precisely," Aspen replied. "This whole business with Sunset Shimmer is a wrench, but … it doesn't have to throw everything off course or into disarray. We can see this through without damage. Your reputation will not come to any more harm, I guarantee it."

"My reputation," Novo murmured. "What about Skystar?"

"The victim of hacking—"

"It still needs to be explained why she wrote the email in the first place," Novo said.

"She deleted it," Aspen pointed out.

"After writing it."

"If you cannot write a nonsense email and then delete it unsent, then what's the world coming too?" asked Aspen.

"I fear that argument might leave a few people unmoved," said Novo. "We need to say something, or Skystar does."

Aspen rotated his empty glass. "Then you need to talk to her."

Novo sighed. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I suppose I—"

She was interrupted by the sound of Sunset Shimmer, standing in the back garden with a motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm, tapping on the kitchen window with her free hand.

Sunset had cast the inverted 'want it, need it' spell on herself, the one that didn't have a name — the don't see it spell? The look away spell? — but which she had used in Mistral when they'd been out and about to get people to stop staring at Pyrrha when she just wanted to relax and hang out with her friends. Sunset had used it then to make Pyrrha feel more comfortable. Now, she was using it for a more serious purpose.

Okay, technically, she was still just using it to make herself feel more comfortable, but it felt more serious to Sunset.

She didn't know exactly how many people yet knew about the accusations that had been made against her, she didn't know how many people had made up their minds about her guilt, but what she did know — what she knew for certain — was that she didn't want to be stopped tonight.

She didn't want to be stopped, she didn't want to be questioned, she didn't want hostility or support, she just wanted to get to Skystar and … and hear what she had to say.

Sunset wasn't angry. She didn't have the right to be angry; she had brought this on herself. She couldn't be angry at Skystar for revealing things that Sunset had actually done. That would have been a bit much, all things considered.

She was upset, to be sure, and considering what had happened to her tonight, she felt a little upset was perfectly understandable in the circumstances, but all the same, this was Sunset's fault.

She had brought this on herself, both through her actions and through her treatment of Ruby.

Of course, the two were bound up together: the sort of person to look with more indulgence upon Ruby's attitudes would have thrown away the trigger when they reached the front of the train.

In other words, that person would not have been Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset bore Skystar no malice for her part in Sunset's downfall, but nevertheless, she was curious that Skystar had named her own mother alongside Councillor Emerald. Had her conscience really been so strong, her sense of morality so ironclad, that she had been willing to condemn her own mother for her part in all this?

Obviously not, since she hadn't sent the email, but nevertheless … nevertheless, that took a certain kind of strength, albeit not a sort of strength that Sunset wished she had.

But what did Skystar want with her now? Why did she want Sunset to come and see her?

That question, Sunset supposed, she would only answer by actually going to see Skystar, as she was on her way to.

Once Sunset reached the Carabas district where Skystar lived, she became especially glad of the spell. This looked like the kind of place where they called the cops on faunus, especially faunus in black leather jackets riding motorbikes.

So Sunset thought, at least, until she got to Skystar's house and found it besieged by a horde of black-clad bikers and not a police officer in sight.

Seeing them, in their black jackets and white helmets, Sunset's first — in hindsight, rather absurd — thought was that this was some sort of biker chapter of the White Fang. In fact, Sunset had gone so far as to draw her sword and prepare to descend upon them like a knight of old — albeit one without armour, shining or otherwise, and on a ramshackle bike instead of a noble steed — when she realised that the only thing they were shooting was photographs.

At that point, a few thoughts occurred to Sunset, the first being that she would have to drop the spell in order to be let into Skystar's house.

The second being that if she did so, all those photographers would spot her, and she wasn't really very keen on that idea.

The third point was that she didn't really want to lie to Skystar about magic. She would just much rather that it didn't come up at all. Which meant she needed to find an avenue of approach that would explain it otherwise.

So, still obscured from notice by her spell, Sunset retreated around the corner and left her bike parked somewhere discreet, out of sight of the reporters — after all, once Sunset got off it, everyone would be able to see her bike. She just hoped nobody stole it or had it confiscated or something.

Still, she didn't have much choice; she couldn't take it with her as she vaulted the wooden fence and landed in the back garden of the house at the end of Skystar's road.

There was a family of four in the house, sitting and watching TV, all facing the windows overlooking the back garden, but none of them paid Sunset any mind as she jumped the next fence into the neighbour's garden. And so on, leaping fence after fence like a steeplechase until, dropping the spell as she did so, she jumped into Skystar's back garden.

The lights were on inside the house, and Sunset could see Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Aris standing in what was a really astonishingly small kitchen.

Deep in conversation, neither of them noticed Sunset until, hoping that Skystar had told her mother she was coming, Sunset tapped on the kitchen window to get their attention.

They both looked a little surprised to see her, which Sunset supposed was understandable in the circumstances, but once they had stared at her for a couple of seconds, Former Councillor Aris — she possibly should have been known as Mrs. Aris, but that sounded a little odd in Sunset's mind, and verging upon disrespectful — gestured to her left.

Sunset moved right, sidling like a crab until she was no longer looking into the overly-small kitchen but into the overly large dining room.

No doubt, as a politician, Former Councillor Aris did a lot of hosting. Though what she cooked for them in that cubbyhole of a kitchen, Sunset could hardly imagine. The kitchenettes in the Beacon dormitories were bigger than that.

Another thing the dining room possessed, besides size, was a pair of large glass doors opening up into the garden, and as soon as Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Aris had made their way into the dining room — they took a little longer about it than Sunset, but not too long — former Councillor Aris unlocked the doors and slid one of them open.

"Good evening Councillor," Sunset said, with a bow of her head. "Ma'am."

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald murmured. "You arrive from an unexpected quarter."

"I didn't really want to be photographed coming into the house," said Sunset.

"Understandable," murmured former Councillor Aris. "So instead you—"

"Jumped the fence, ma'am," Sunset said. "And all the other fences from the corner of the street."

"Did the neighbours see you?" asked the former First Councillor.

"I am sure not, ma'am," Sunset said. "As a huntress, I've been taught to move stealthily when I wish to."

That was not a lie; she had had a class in stealth, and she had been taught in that class. The fact that no member of Team SAPR was getting good grades in that class — good thing it was the one class you didn't need to pass to graduate — was neither here nor there.

"I hope you're right," said Former Councillor Aris. "Come inside, Miss Shimmer."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sunset replied softly as she stepped into the dining room.

The floor was tiled, and the tiles were spotless. Sunset felt as though she ought to have taken off her boots before she came in, but the Former Councillor slid the door shut behind Sunset before she could do more than regret that she had not.

She had come here at Skystar's invitation, to speak to Skystar, but finding herself with the present and former First Councillors, Sunset did not immediately ask where Skystar was. Instead, her ears drooping, she said, "I have caused you both more trouble than I ever intended."

"True," observed Councillor Emerald. "But I must admit that you've also done us good you did intend: at Arcadia Lake, and tonight's business with Cinder Fall."

"And yet…" Sunset hesitated. "While the truth might not have saved your career, ma'am, it would have alleviated the risk to yours, sir."

"Yes," Councillor Emerald said. "But all the same … let's not rehash the past, Miss Shimmer. I have … forgiven you. Let's leave it at that."

Sunset's eyes widened. He, too? Even he, even the First Councillor, who had seemed at one point her most bitter foe, even he?

Was Ruby the only one who could not forgive? Was she so blessed?

No, not blessed, not quite, for … for though Ruby be the only one who could not forgive her, that lack of forgiveness was enough to cast her out of paradise and into darkness.

Nevertheless, the forgiveness of the First Councillor was … Sunset bowed her head and spoke in a hoarse voice. "Thank you, Councillor." She paused a moment. "How is—?"

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

Sunset stared at her. Skystar had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, falling down behind her back to the floor. She was holding onto it with both pale hands as she stood in the doorway between the dining room and the room beyond — what looked like a living room, with the TV still on, although didn't care to listen to what it was saying.

"Skystar," Sunset said gently. "Hey." Deeply inadequate, she knew, but … it was hard to think of the words.

At least, not until she knew what Skystar wanted of her and why she had asked Sunset here in the first place.

Skystar frowned. "Sunset, I—"

"Don't," Sunset said quickly. "Don't apologise, you don't have to do that, it … you don't have to."

"But it's my fault," Skystar said.

"I did it," Sunset muttered.

"But no one would have known if it wasn't for me and that stupid email," Skystar said. She dropped the blanket, letting it fall down behind her just as her hands fell down to her sides. "I wish I'd never written it."

"Then…" Former Councillor Aris began. "Then why did you, dear?"

"Because … because I was upset," Skystar admitted. "I was upset with Sunset, with you, with all of you." She looked at Sunset. "I couldn't believe what you'd done. What you'd been willing to do."

Sunset didn't reply. There really wasn't very much to say upon the matter.

At least, very little that would help.

It had never been her intent to hurt Skystar by her actions, or Silverstream or Terramar or anyone else, but she had put them in danger nonetheless.

Skystar went on, "And I couldn't believe that you were all just going to keep this a secret as though … I couldn't understand why, even if it wouldn't be enough to save Mom; I thought the truth should come out. Even the truth that the two of you had known and chosen to say nothing."

"And so you wrote the email," Councillor Emerald said. "Who were you going to send it to?"

"I hadn't worked that out yet," Skystar admitted. "General Blackthorn, Lisa Lavender, Professor Ozpin, somebody."

"But you didn't," Sunset said.

Skystar nodded. "I thought … I thought some more, and I thought that maybe … if Mom and Aspen — sorry, Coun—"

"'Aspen' is fine, here in private," he assured her.

"I thought that if you and Mom thought that keeping this secret was the right thing to do, then I should consider that you might be right, and I didn't necessarily know best," Skystar said. "And I thought about it, and I thought about how frightened everyone was, how on edge, and I thought that … yeah, the people of Vale had had enough shocks; they didn't need any more. And I thought about what you described, about what happened down on Mountain Glenn, and I asked myself … can I be sure that I would have done the right thing in your place? No. No, I couldn't. So I deleted the email. I didn't realise it could still be accessed."

"It shouldn't be, by any legitimate means," Councillor Emerald said.

"Does that matter?" Skystar said. "What I said … how much trouble are we in?"

"Not that much, I hope," said Councillor Emerald. "As I was just telling your mother, I intend to fight this battle on the credibility of the press. When asked if they believe the press over a huntress, the public will choose the huntress."

"One problem with that, First Councillor," Sunset murmured. "I … am not a huntress anymore."

"What?!" Skystar cried.

"You've picked a fine time to switch careers, Miss Shimmer; what's going on?" Councillor Emerald demanded.

"My teammates, one of my teammates in particular…" Sunset looked down, as her tail drooped beneath her legs. "She wasn't very happy when she found out what I'd done. She … cast me out."

"'Cast you—' we're talking about a school, not the court of King Edward," Councillor Emerald snapped. "What did Ozpin have to say about all this?"

"I haven't spoken to him," Sunset said softly.

"You mean you just left?" asked Former Councillor Aris. "This other girl told you to go, and you went?"

"She could not abide my presence another minute," Sunset murmured.

Councillor Emerald frowned. "Which of your teammates?"

"Ruby," Sunset whispered. "It was Ruby."

"Then Miss Rose must be made to see reason," Councillor Emerald declared. "I will tell her so myself, if I must. For the sake of the stability of Vale and of the present Council, you must remain a Beacon student and retain the credibility of that status. On no account must you make yourself look guilty by running away."

"I cannot go back," Sunset said. "Ruby will not have it. She will keep your secret, Councillor, and mine; thus far will she go for the sake of stability and the present Council, but no further. If I go back … if I go back, then she will leave, and Ruby does not deserve that. Not for my sake. And that is without considering Jaune; he wasn't very happy with me either."

"But if you go, you seem guilty," Councillor Emerald said. "And we all seem guilty along with you."

Sunset frowned. He had a point, and yet, at the same time, his proposed remedy was unworkable and would be cruel to Ruby even if attempted. She didn't deserve to have the First Councillor badger her about changing her mind, even if he could succeed in doing so, which he couldn't. In this, Sunset was sure, Ruby’s will would be as adamant.

And yet, he had a point, all the same. If she were found to have fled the school, it would embolden those pronouncing her guilty. But if the First Councillor's remedy was no remedy at all, then what medicine did they have?

What to do? What to do?

And then she had it. The beginnings of it, at least, and that was the most important part right now. "You could send me away, Councillor!"

Councillor Emerald frowned. "You'd better explain further."

"On a mission, as you did before," Sunset went on. "Send me somewhere that will get me out of Vale without arousing suspicion."

"The very act of sending you out, alone, while you are but a student and your teammate is competing in the Vytal Tournament will seem suspicious to some," observed Former Councillor Aris.

"Call it a sign of the First Councillor's trust in me, demonstrated by deeds, not words," Sunset suggested.

Of course, there was a pretty notable downside to this plan — albeit not one that she could share with the present company — which was that, out of Vale, she wouldn't be able to hunt down the Siren terrorising Vale. She would just have to ensure that Professor Ozpin assigned somebody to the duty and that she gave him all the information on sirens that she could.

Staying in Vale, even for an important task … it risked leaving the wound open and sore.

Councillor Emerald folded his arms. "Not the worst idea, I suppose, in the absence of anything better, but … at some point, you will have to return to school."

"No, First Councillor, I won't," Sunset said. "Because on this mission, I will die."

Skystar gasped.

Councillor Emerald frowned. "Not so long ago, I would have welcomed the idea, but I no longer desire your death, Miss Shimmer."

"Then it's a good job I'm not actually going to die, isn't it, First Councillor?" Sunset asked. "I'll be reported dead, with no body found. That's not unusual, for huntresses." That had been the way that it had been for Ruby's mother, and for poor Sky, for that matter. "You'll say that I'm dead, died completing my mission, and then … you never have to worry about explaining why I haven't come back to Beacon."

"And everything that you were accused of will be forgotten," Skystar murmured. "And you will live forever, a hero of glorious memory."

Sunset laughed wryly. "Hardly, I … if I ever believed that, I don't anymore. I don't believe the honour of the dead will live on with the living, that … that's part of the reason why I couldn't … anyway. The point is, I'll be forgotten soon enough. The memory of the Vytal crown, the laurels of the victor, being placed on Pyrrha's brow will linger longer in the memory than my passing. And that … some would say that to be forgotten is a kinder fate than I deserve." She paused. "Cinder and I, our twin demises will draw a line under this turbulent year, just as you wished, First Councillor."

Put like that, the attraction of a passing more real … still paled in comparison to the impulse to live.

Dying, after all, would have involved abandoning her friends quite as much, or more, as returning to Equestria.

She would not do that. She would fight this battle … somehow. She would fight, though they saw her not.

Former Councillor Aris said, "If you're considering this, Aspen, I have a job she could do."

Councillor Emerald cupped his chin with one hard. "I suppose … it does put a full stop on things. Unless you're soon enough found to be alive afterwards."

"I will … disguise myself," Sunset suggested. "I'll dye my hair … and maybe cut off my tail."

It would be an awful wrench, two awful wrenches, of which she would regret the hiding of her gorgeous fiery hair even more than her tail. But, again, it would still be less than she deserved.

"No one will recognise me," she insisted.

"This is beginning to sound like something out of a stage tragedy," Skystar said. "And with just as much chance of ending badly. Fake deaths, convoluted deceptions, disguises, what's next, are you going to use your funeral to escape a prison or reveal yourself too late to stop a cavalcade of unforeseen consequences?"

Sunset snorted. "I take comfort from the fact that nobody loves me enough to take their own life on hearing that I have lost mine."

And she who would grieve Sunset most deeply would never even know that she was 'dead.'

"I'm being serious," Skystar insisted. "There must be a simpler way."

"Such as?" asked Sunset.

Skystar hesitated for a moment, then frowned. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I do know this still doesn't solve the problem of my email."

A rather dolorous silence followed that pronouncement, which, after all, was hard to deny.

It was hard to think of any reason Skystar would have written such a thing, other than that it was true, and she wanted to get the word out.

It was a bit extreme for an act of teenage rebellion — on the other hand, Sunset had run all the way to another world in her act of rebellion, so … maybe?

But probably not. Ideally, whatever explanation was offered up to the people had to seem at least somewhat plausible.

Which was an issue, plausible explanations being somewhat difficult to come by.

Sunset looked away from Skystar towards Former Councillor Aris. "What is the mission, ma'am?"

"Someone needs to go to Mount Aris," replied the Former Councillor.

Sunset cooked her head slightly. "Is that named for your family or your family for the place, ma'am?"

Former Councillor Aris chuckled lightly. "A little of both, I think. It is only a large town, not a city, but it has been my family's … you could call it our seat of power, I suppose, for some time."

"What troubles it now?" asked Sunset.

"The usual," answered the Former Councillor. "Reports of grimm in the hinterland around the town, many of the local farmers have fled inside the walls. Those walls are sturdy, and well-manned by the town guard, but it could use a huntsman or huntress to go out there and, well, deal with it."

"Search and destroy," Sunset said softly.

"Precisely," said Former Councillor Aris. "I was going to put something on the job board, but if you're looking for something to do…"

"I am, ma'am."

"Then it will show that both Aspen and I have complete confidence in you," declared Former Councillor Aris. “I could probably find you some employment after your… well, your death, if you are looking for employment in your next life.”

“That … is very generous of you to offer, ma’am, considering that my work has caused you difficulties in the past.”

“I will be sure to keep you away from trains, Miss Shimmer, but you seem to have some talent as regards grimm and criminals,” Former Councillor Aris replied lightly. "How soon will you leave?"

Sunset hesitated. "Not … not until at least the day after tomorrow, ma'am; there is a possibility of a grimm attack on Vale, and I would be here to do my part if it happens."

She was very, very grateful that no one present asked her on whose side or account she intended to do her part.

"And I imagine leaving would be very difficult with so many grimm around, in any case," added Councillor Emerald.

"So many grimm?" asked Skystar.

"They will be taken care of, in due course," Councillor Emerald assured her. "The plan is already in motion."

Sunset supposed she should be glad of that, since any amount of time she was stuck in Vale — yes, the air routes were open, but for how long? How long until nevermores joined the gathering hordes, and Lady Nikos and all the other guests from across the kingdoms were caged up in a city under siege? Not to mention, who really wanted to fly over a horde of grimm into whose mass any technical error might plunge you? — due to the grimm outside the walls was time she could spend looking for the siren. On the other hand, any amount of time she was stuck in Vale invited the question of why she was in Vale and not at Beacon.

She cleared her throat. "Far be it for me to counsel the First Councillor—"

"Far be it indeed, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said.

"But General Ironwood's forces are here right now and could—"

"Make us look weak and helpless and dependent on Atlesian assistance, no," Councillor Emerald declared. "Valish huntsmen will get the job done soon enough."

"As you say, First Councillor," Sunset murmured and hoped he was right.

There was a general silence.

"So, Sunset," Skystar said, breaking the silence after a moment passed. "If you aren't going back to Beacon, where are you going to stay tonight?"

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged, because she hadn't thought that far ahead. "A motel, I—"

Skystar shook her head. "Come on, you can crash in my room."

"Really?" Sunset asked. "I mean, that's very generous, but really?"

"Yes, really," Skystar insisted. "Come on, I'll take you up there."

"Skystar," Former Councillor Aris said, and Sunset wondered whether she was going to object to Sunset's presence. What she actually said, however, amidst awkwardly dry-washing her hands, was, "Aspen is also going to be staying the night … on the couch."

Skystar came very close to smirking as her eyebrows rose. "'On the couch,' huh?"

Former Councillor Aris squirmed awkwardly, no longer looking so much like a Former Councillor. "Well … if Aspen were to stay elsewhere … elsewhere in the house, that is, then … how would that be okay?"

"Mom," Skystar said. "I'm not a kid anymore. Come on, Sunset; it's this way."

Sunset didn't say anything, nor even look at either the current or the former First Councillors as she followed Skystar out of the dining room, through the living room and out into the wood-panelled hall.

"That's not a yes," called out Mrs. Aris.

"Yes, Mom," Skystar called back, the smile still on her face.

"The First Councillor … and your mother?" asked Sunset as they began to climb the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, he's had the hots for her for ages," Skystar explained as she turned around to look down at Sunset. "And, you know, he's not bad-looking for an old guy."

"I can't say I've ever considered that angle," Sunset said.

Skystar snorted. "Come on."

She led Sunset up the stairs and down the upstairs hallway, to a room that was dark — with the curtains drawn and the lights off — but not completely dark because it was illuminated by lines of festive lights — some of them in the Vytal colours of green, blue, yellow and white; the overwhelming majority of them entirely red. They offered dim illumination in the room, enough to show the pair of clam shells, one pink and one blue, sitting on the nightstand, and the stuffed animals colonising the foot of the bed.

Skystar flipped the lights on, showing the sea blue carpet underfoot, the turquoise wallpaper, and the pictures of fish, whales, dolphins, orcas, sea creatures of all kinds that had been stuck on the walls, looking like they had been ripped out of something.

"Nice pictures," Sunset said. "Yours?"

Skystar laughed. "Wildlife Photographer of the Year entrants. I cut them out of the annual. Only the sea creatures, not the animals."

"Very brave," Sunset observed, "to dive into the water to get pictures like that."

"And some of the photographers are just kids too," Skystar said. "They're … kind of awe-inspiring."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured, turning away from the fish that were beautiful and weird — there was one picture of a clownfish that looked as though it had another fish growing in its mouth — to face Skystar.

"Thanks for … this," she said softly.

Skystar didn't say anything until she had sat down on the bed, the mattress sagging ever so slightly beneath her.

"I still don't get you," she admitted. "The things that you do, and won't do, the things that … what you did, and then the way you tried to help mum, and … I don't get you."

Sunset shrugged. "I … I'm not sure how much there is to get. And I'm not sure how much I could explain it either, except … I'm ruled by my heart more than my wit. I did what I did because I was scared for my friends, and I leaked that Cardin stuff because I was angry at him on behalf of Blake. I've hurt you a lot, haven't I?"

"There are things you should feel guilty for; that's not one of them," Skystar insisted. "Whether or not Cardin meant it, he still lied to me. He still lied to Silverstream and Terramar, and he pretended to be someone he wasn't. That's enough for me to be glad that I'm done with him." She paused. "How is he?"

"I thought you were done with him?"

"I am," Skystar said. "It doesn't mean that I’m not curious."

"He's … okay," Sunset replied. "We don't talk much; you'd be better off asking Weiss."

"Is she—?"

"No," Sunset said. "No, she isn't; she… she is not her father, and even her father hasn't actually done anything. I mean, he didn't do that, anyway. My friends, Blake and Rainbow Dash, they're in Weiss' corner. They wouldn't be if she were in any way involved in this."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for that," Skystar murmured. She hesitated, looking down at the star-pattern duvet cover beneath her.

"So," she said, "what are you going to do after you're dead?"

"I…" Sunset trailed off. "I'm not sure. I hadn't given — I hadn't had much time to give — it much thought. Before I left, Pyrrha suggested that I might serve her mother, in Mistral."

"And she wouldn't hold the whole … Breach thing against you?"

"I'm afraid that she might see it as a mark of my good character," Sunset admitted. "That I chose to save her heir over all else."

"Then you'll fit right in, I guess," Skystar observed. "Although it might be harder to get the job once you're dead."

"You make it sound like I'm actually going to die," Sunset said.

"Don't blame me; it's your stupid plan," said Skystar. "There must be a better way."

"I can't think of one, can you?" Sunset demanded.

"Well … no," Skystar admitted. "But can you think of a way to explain that email I wrote?"

"Unfortunately not," Sunset muttered. "I'm better at stirring the pot than I am at…"

Skystar frowned. "Sunset?"

"Hang on," Sunset said. "Hang on!"

"Hang on to what?"

"I don't know, anything you like," Sunset said. "Because I think I just might have an idea."

Don't Look Back in Anger (New)

Don’t Look Back in Anger

How should one behave in the face of impending death?

The question was on Cinder's mind for obvious reasons as she sat in the back of an armoured transport, with several grim-faced soldiers surrounding her, towards her execution.

Not that she was helpless. Bound as she was, without her aura as she was, she yet possessed half the magic of a Maiden. She could have broken her restraints, killed the guards, killed the Valish general, and then…

And then what? What would that avail her? To escape, to go after Amber again, having already failed once, to what end?

To make Sunset and Pyrrha finish the job this time and actually kill her? That had a certain appeal, to be sure; it was a better death than she would obtain else — and at this point, a better death was about all that she could hope for — but on the other hand, it would rather take the shine off their victory tonight in capturing her in the first place, and Cinder didn't want to do that to them.

Sunset might be in enough trouble already without invalidating the victory that, with Sunset's part in it, stood against the accusations made against her.

That was Tempest's doing; of that, Cinder was quite certain. Tempest feared what Cinder might say — and rightly so; why should Cinder hold her tongue in the face of betrayal and abandonment? — and so she had released this attack on Sunset's reputation to distract attention from herself, and Amber, and Sonata.

Not that Amber in particular needed the distraction; she had them wrapped around her little finger.

In a way, the fact that everyone was so enthralled with her made Amber's betrayal even worse in Cinder's eyes; it was one thing to betray those who treated you poorly — that was not so much betrayal as revenge — but to betray those who opened their hearts to you, embraced you, whose trust in you was absolute? That was just not on, was it?

Certainly, if Cinder had been so fortunate as to have been so well beloved by such people, she would have held them close and bound them to her with chains of steel.

Except she hadn't, had she? She had betrayed Sunset herself, and more than once.

Well … all the same, Amber was making a mistake. There was nothing she could gain from this that would be worth what she lost.

Cinder almost laughed aloud — would have, save that she wasn't sure how her gaolers would take it — as she realised that, while Tempest had smeared Sunset to distract people from thinking about Amber, she, Cinder, had become distracted from Sunset's smearing by thinking about Amber.

The worst part of what had been done to Sunset was that Cinder could see it working.

She hoped it would not, of course. That was why she had defended her … well, that had been part of the reason, with the other part being that she did not want — on the night of her capture no less! — to share her infamy. She was Cinder Fall! She was the shadow over Vale! She led grimm hordes and White Fang armies on, she dared damnation, she! She was not merely Sunset's co-conspirator, and she would not, on this night, on the night of her downfall when she ought to have been centre-stage, be pushed out of the limelight by Sunset's so-called treason.

Especially when there was so little to get upset about in that regard.

What Sunset had done was nothing but what the safety of her friends prompted her to. It was no less than anyone ought to do or have done in her position, otherwise…

Otherwise, you were just heartless, and undeserving of those that you would condemn to death by your action.

Just like … just like Ashley’s mother, abandoning her husband and her child to an uncertain future.

And in that line stood Ruby Rose, who was more fond of grief than of any living soul, and a self-righteous little madam to boot. She had wanted to kill Cinder, during their time allied together against Doctor Merlot; she had wanted to cut Cinder down, in spite of the truce that they had agreed, because Cinder was wicked, and dangerous, and it would be safer to make an end of her swiftly.

That might have been true; in fact, it had been truer than Ruby had realised at the time, and if they had taken her advice, then Amber might not have betrayed them now, but it took some brass neck to make an argument borne out of sheer ruthless pragmatism and then get up on your high horse and act as if you were the voice of moral clarity.

The day that Ruby realised that, actually, she was no better than anyone else, she was just harder in the heart, was the day that she might become somewhat tolerable company.

Or she would find someone that she could not live without; that might make her happier, provided that she didn’t lose them.

In any case, Cinder had seen the way that she looked at Sunset, and combined with what she knew of Ruby’s nature, Cinder suspected that if no one else suspected Sunset, if no one else believed the allegations made against her, then Ruby did.

She happened to be right, in this particular instance, but nevertheless…

Nevertheless…

Nevertheless, she was still annoying.

Annoying, and annoyingly, the sort of person least likely to understand Sunset and why she had done it.

Cinder’s grand speech had left her unmoved, so had the words of Professor Ozpin, and even the rather good point that it seemed to be open season on false accusations and slanders to the good character of Beacon students at the moment, just look at what had happened to Pyrrha, and the things that were being said about Weiss Schnee — although Cinder had no idea if they were false or not; she wouldn’t put it past the Schnees to behave in such a way — they had the power to do so, after all — but looked at as part of a pattern, it did seem a little suspicious — so why should the accusations against Sunset not be lies as well?

But Ruby seemed unmoved. Cinder had seen suspicion in her gaze, from first to last. She believed what they were saying about Sunset, and that…

That meant trouble.

Cinder did not know exactly what that presaged for Sunset, but she knew that it meant something.

She could only hope that the trouble was not too great. That Sunset might ride out the storm and emerge into the sunlight once again.

Hope, and regret that she had not pulled the trigger herself.

Just a few more moments, Sunset, just a few more moments, and you would have been innocent.

I thought that I could show you that you were better off with me, more suited to be at my side, but the truth is that you were always where you were meant to be. Fate decreed it so, and who was I to set myself against destiny?

I only hope that Ruby sees it the same way, or can be persuaded to.

Don’t give up, Sunset. Battle on, and win great glory.

It is as well that someone should.

After all, that opportunity was lost to her now. She would die. She would … submit to death, rather than subtract from the victory that Team SAPR had won by escaping. To do so would be to render their work tonight hollow, and that … was a little too spiteful for Cinder, in spite of the fact that it rankled with her a little bit that Pyrrha had not done her the good service of taking her life.

Yes, Pyrrha, I know that in Vale they have laws and such, but we are not Valish, are we? We are not denizens of this bourgeois place. We are creatures of an elder world, or ought to be, and by the elder rules and customs ought be bound.

Aren’t simple laws the best?

If you had killed me, no one would have blamed you. And you would have shown me the respect due to a fellow warrior of Mistral.

Instead, I must confess I feel a little insulted.

And more than insulted, I feel … I do not know how to meet this death.

Thinking about Sunset, thinking about what she was or might be going through, hoping that she could avoid the worst of it, that had all proven a very handy and a useful distraction for Cinder as the transport rattled and rumbled down the roads. None of her captors seemed very interested in talking to her — they all watched her in complete silence, fingers upon the triggers of their rifles — and so, there had been nothing stopping Cinder from escaping into her thoughts, escaping from the reality of her present situation.

But now, she returned to it, to the metallic interior of this armoured vehicle, with its harsh red light, with the rumble of its engine, to the motion which bore her onward, ever onward, inexorably onwards like a river towards her end.

Towards a cell, and thence a gallows, and thence…

Fleeing down to the shades.

But how to meet it? How to behave in the face of impending death?

The answer was that it depended a great deal upon the manner of death in question. In battle, it was one thing, and that thing was thankfully very well documented in the ancient texts. At the last, faced with the inevitability of her defeat, knowing that the gods had tricked her into turning to face Pyrrha, Juturna faced the wrath of that most vaunted warrior bravely, had fought fiercely, and in the end, had perished with her face to the front, refusing to beg for her life or try and buy her survival.

Cinder could have done that. She could have taken Pyrrha’s spear to her breast, either in Vale or in the Emerald Forest; she could have suffered to be impaled, beheaded, have her throat slit. She could have perished in stricken battle, and quite apart from any good it might have done her reputation, at least, she would have known how to behave.

But this? To die caged, to swing from the neck, to perish in whatever manner Tempest Shadow had planned for her, to have her throat cut to keep her from talking? How was one supposed to comport oneself in the face of that?

The only thing that Cinder could think of was to adopt a sort of casual insouciance, to act as though you hadn’t a care in the world, to say things like ‘I know it’s traditional for the condemned to enjoy a last hearty meal, but if it’s all the same to you, I should prefer not to be hanged on a full stomach, so I’ll just have a cup of black coffee.’ Not that Cinder would be able to taste the coffee or the hearty breakfast, but if you refused to eat or drink anything at all, then you’d just look afraid — afraid of throwing up or worse, if nothing else.

Yes, that was probably the only way to behave in the face of execution, at least as far as Cinder could see. The trouble was that it required a degree of … indulgence, perhaps, was the right word. In battle, you could be as brave as you wished, as stoic as you wanted, could face death however you liked; all the enemy had to do was kill you — and Pyrrha couldn’t even do that, but leave that for the moment. In a cell, in captivity, your captors had greater say on how they treated you, and they didn’t have to humour your attempts to appear brave, or unfussed, or anything else.

And why would they, in Cinder’s case? She was nothing to them. Worse than nothing; she was a monster.

And that was without recalling the fact that it was not just Vale that held her prisoner, but her enemies.

Cinder prayed … Cinder prayed they would end her quickly. Not a likely prayer, perhaps, and a swift death in darkness, unseen, unmourned, having left no great legacy behind her, it was not what she had wanted. It was not what she wanted at all. But it was a sight better than some of the things she feared … it was better than some of the things she feared.

Yes, she feared. Cinder had striven to banish fear, to murder fear, she had killed Phoebe so that she might murder fear, and yet, she was afraid.

She was afraid of that for which she had murdered Phoebe: humiliation, to be demeaned before her enemies, to be used by them, to be treated as a slave.

Or a prisoner.

She feared that, and she had little cause to hope for better from Tempest Shadow.

There were no windows in the transport, and Cinder had no idea where they were being driven through, or to which precise destination. She wasn't even really sure how much time had passed while she had been lost in her thoughts.

Much good losing herself in her thoughts had done her in the end; they certainly hadn't made her feel much better.

Nor had they yielded up the answers that she was seeking.

But then, what would, she being so ignorant as she was about the fate that awaited her? What torments, what travails, the manner and the length of her captivity, the means of her passing, be it swift or slow? How was she supposed to know how to behave when she didn't know the occasion or the circumstances that she would have to behave for?

All terribly inconsiderate. Why, she didn't even know what to wear.

She supposed that all she could really do was show no fear, no matter what they did to her. That … that was advice applicable to all situations.

Put a brave face on things, no matter what.

She may not have lived the life that she had wanted, but she could at least model the death that heroes desired.

Cinder smiled at her captors, to see what they would do; nothing, as it turned out, except glower at her with those stern countenances of theirs. But they did not strike her, or threaten her, or even tell her to stop. They just stared at her.

It did occur to Cinder to wonder why they were bothering to take her anywhere, why not just put a bullet in her head right here and now?

Because of Amber, most likely. They didn't trust her — since their alliance was founded upon fear and convenience, they may have had a point there — and so, they would not reunite the Maiden powers in her, lest she get cold feet about holding up her end of the bargain. So they would keep Cinder alive until then, and like as not, they would let it be known to Amber that they had Cinder in their custody, lest she grow too comfortable.

In which case, it further occurred to Cinder that she might do some little good by forcing them to kill her. Then Amber's magic would be made whole again, and she might — she might — realise who had her best interests at heart and where those interests lay.

She might. She might not, but that would not be Cinder's fault or doing.

Some little good yet, she might do.

Yes. Yes, she would do it. Once they arrived, wherever they were taking her, then she would shatter her bonds and rage and storm and force them to put her down for good and all.

A good death. A brave, but, as importantly, a good one.

As good as that she meant to do.

And do it soon she would, she must, for the transport that bore her in its belly like the grimm that had swallowed her whole and brought her to Salem suddenly slowed to a crawl, and thence to a halt.

The engine turned off, and silence descended upon the transport and its occupants.

Until, at least, the metal hatch at the back of the transport dropped open, revealing Sonata Dusk standing in front of it, looking up into the belly of the beast.

"Hey guys!" Sonata cried cheerily. She gasped theatrically upon seeing Cinder. "I don't believe this; did you bring me back a present? I mean, I would have settled for a taco, but this?" She clasped her hands together over her chest. "You fellas really are the sweetest." She grinned. “Hey there, Cindy! Lookin’…” She wiggled one hand back and forth, like a wave on the ocean. “Eeh.”

Cinder ignored her and leaned forward a little bit, craning her head to see out of the transport as she looked for Tempest, or possibly Sweetie Drops.

“Huh?” Sonata asked, as she looked round in turn. “What are you… oh. Oh!” She giggled. “Oh, you think I’ve got adult supervision! Aw! Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m performing solo tonight.” She clapped her hands together. “That’s right, I’ve got you all to myself. Bring her out, boys!”

Cinder was instantly seized by two of the soldiers, who bundled out of the transport and into the midst of a military base, the barracks of the … Cinder took a glance at the patches on the shoulders of the Valish soldiers; she hadn’t paid much attention to them up until now, but paying attention, she could see that they were the Grenadier Guards, with the old-fashioned bomb design on their patches, complete with fizzing fuse.

Their barracks, assuming that was where she had been taken, was a hive of activity; hemmed in by walls, enclosed within metal gates, cut off from prying eyes, soldiers bustled here and there, marching at the double in platoons, driving cars and trucks with machine guns mounted on them this way and that, parking them and then driving off again, loading up lorries with munitions.

“Are you planning to storm Beacon?” she asked. It was not what her plan had called for, but then, she expected that significant changes had been made to her plan already; that was why she’d warned Sunset and Pyrrha about the grimm attack.

“'Storm Beacon'?” Sonata repeated. “No! No way! These are soldiers of Vale, why would they want to go and attack the school in their own city, no. They’re going to take their city back, aren’t you, General?”

She extended one hand towards General Blackthorn, emerging last out of the transport. He took her hand and bent his head to kiss it.

“We are indeed,” he confirmed. “Those arrogant Atlesians won’t know what hit them.”

Maybe not, but you’ll know what hits you when they start shooting back, Cinder thought. Or perhaps General Ironwood would be very noble and refuse to allow his forces to return fire, because these were fellow humans, after all.

No. Surely not. Surely, he wouldn’t hang his own men out to dry that way.

Not for the Valish Defence Forces, certainly.

“They’re prepared for you now,” Cinder declared. “I told them everything.”

“Is that right?” Sonata asked. She looked at General Blackthorn. “Is that right?”

“I’m not sure,” General Blackthorn admitted. “Aspen was being very cagey. Those Beacon huntresses have poisoned him against me.”

“Well, never mind, I’m sure that you can handle him,” Sonata said. “One way or the other. Vale is counting on you, General; don’t let her down!”

“I never have,” said General Blackthorn, puffing out his chest. “And never shall.”

“But just to be sure, maybe make sure that they haven’t beefed up security anywhere, and if there is … take care of that, too.”

General Blackthorn bowed his head. “Whatever obstacles are placed in our path, we men of Vale will show that we are as good as any soldiers of the north. They shall not stand before us!”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Tell me something,” she asked Sonata, “does Tempest Shadow still think that she controls you?”

Sonata’s smile made an audible squeak as it blossomed on her face. “Tempest tells me what she wants, and I tell people to do it. If I ever decided not to tell them … well, that would be something that she wouldn’t see coming, wouldn’t it? But, you know, why would I want to get into a fight with my good friend Tempest? It’s not like I—” She stopped, clutching both hands to mouth as though she had just revealed something confidential. “Oops. Never said too much there, didn’t I? Anyway, the point is that I don’t want what Tempest wants, so why shouldn’t we both get what we want?”

“Shouldn’t that be all three of you?” Cinder asked. “You, Tempest, and Amber?”

“Amber?” Sonata asked, as though the name were unfamiliar to her. She began to walk up and down, tapping her chin effectively. “Amber, Amber, Amber.” She scuffed at the ground with her chunky boots. “Oh, Amber! Yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. You know, I’ve never actually met Amber. But I’d sure like to, one day.”

“That will probably be a very unexpected surprise for her,” Cinder observed dryly.

“Yeah, but aren’t all the best surprises unexpected?” Sonata asked. “I mean, when I heard that I was getting let out, that was a surprise; and when I met you and realised that you were so, soooo full of yourself that you were never going to see me coming, that was a pretty great surprise! And when I came into this city and realised that it was mine, all mine for the taking!”

She raised her hands up in the air and struck a pose as though she expected pyrotechnics to light up behind her at any moment.

“That was a pretty awesome surprise too,” she added, almost sheepishly, as no explosion was forthcoming.

“Is that so?” Cinder asked. “So, Tempest will return to—”

“To the boss, sure,” Sonata said.

“And you … will take all of Vale for yourself?” Cinder asked. “With a bargain like that, no wonder you preferred Tempest’s offer to my own assistance.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sonata replied. “It was really nice of you to offer to set me and my sisters free, very generous, but this way, I can have that and have a whole kingdom to call my own, so, you know, it really wasn’t a very hard decision. Speaking of which, can I get a glass of fruit punch and a slice of banoffee pie?”

“Right away, ma’am,” someone — Cinder didn’t see who — replied.

“Thank you, honey!” Sonata called. “Do you want anything? They’ll get me anything I ask for, they’re real sweethearts, it’s awesome!”

“Thank you, but I’ll pass,” Cinder muttered. “Do you really think that you’ll get away with this?”

Sonata looked around, and shrugged. “I think I’m getting away with it. And, you know, who…” She stopped. “Tempest is always complaining about you, and how close you are to some of your enemies up at Beacon; are you going to tell me that they’ll stop me, because Tempest is going to wish that she was here to hear that.”

“They know you’re here,” Cinder said. “They know everything, I told them everything.”

“But did they believe you when you told them?” Sonata asked.

“Yes!” Cinder insisted; a lie, of course, but hopefully one that Sonata might believe.

Sonata cocked her head first this way, and then the other. “Not bad, but I don’t believe you,” she said. “They might believe some of it, but even if they do, it’s a little late for them to do anything about it now, right? The warm-up act is almost done, and it’s about time for the headliner to start the show. You can’t stop the gig now; all the songs are already cued up.”

“Maybe they can’t stop it from starting,” Cinder admitted, “but I would advise you not to take your enemies lightly … if I were at all invested in your victory. As I’m not, then be overconfident by all means. I just hope that I live long enough to get the pleasure of watching you all fall flat on your faces in abject failure.”

That will teach Tempest to look down on me, once she has learned for herself that it is not so easy.

“There she is! There she is!” Sonata cried as she strode forward, advancing upon Cinder, reaching out to grab Cinder’s face with one hand, squeezing her cheeks. “There’s the—”

Cinder shoved her arm away, wrenching her face from Sonata’s grasp. “Don’t touch me!”

Anger flashed in Sonata’s raspberry eyes, eyes that flashed as red as the glittering jewel around her neck as a bestial snarl of anger rose from her throat. She bared her teeth in Cinder’s face as she grabbed her by the shoulders, grabbed her so tightly that Cinder could feel her fingernails digging into her skin, even through her dress in some cases.

Cinder forced herself not to wince in pain.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sonata growled. “I’ll touch you wherever I want. I’ll do whatever I want, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

Cinder tried to force that thought to the back of her mind; she had killed Phoebe, she had put that in the ground, it was all dead and done and behind her now. But it was very difficult in the circumstances.

Her voice trembled a little as she said, “Nice to meet the real you at last.”

Sonata’s grin seemed a little more vicious now than it had done even moments before. “And nice to know that you’ve not become a complete sad sack. I mean, really?” She let go of Cinder and turned away, waving her arms back and forth as she skipped across the tarmac towards one of the armoured vehicles.

And as she skipped, she started to sing.

“Slip inside the eye of your mind,

Don’t you know you might find,

A better place to play.”

She turned around to look at Cinder; Cinder saw that the gem on Sonata’s choker was burning even brighter now, brighter than any star in the night sky above them. It burned red, bloody red, as red as wrath and fury.

As red as the wrath that Cinder could feel building up inside of her. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair! After all that she had done, after all that she’d been through, after everything that she had suffered, that it should end like this? End in ignominy, end forgotten, end ignored, end with everyone focussed on Sunset instead of her? She wanted to scream out her frustration at it!

“You said that you’d never been,

But all the things that you’d seen,

Slowly fade away.”

Cinder grunted, she seethed, she exhaled from between her gritted teeth, she growled like an animal. Anger pumped through her veins as readily as blood.

Pyrrha could have killed her. She could have spared her this, all of this, the suffering, the humiliation, all of it! With a single stroke of her spear, she could have given Cinder oblivion, granted her the respect that she deserved.

Instead … instead, they had condemned her to this, to be Sonata’s prisoner!

Cinder hated them: Pyrrha, who had shown her the cruel mercy that had brought her here; Sunset, who had spat on Cinder’s hand when she had offered it freely; Tempest, Amber, Sonata, she hated all of them.

She felt … she felt like Pyrrha, the great Pyrrha, not the milksop at Beacon, the hero of the Mistraliad, she felt as Pyrrha had felt when news was brought to her of Camilla’s death.

She felt as though there was nothing left in her but rage. If she were to come across an enemy now, she would kill them straight away, for death would come for all of them, and if she came across one whom she hated, one who had done her wrong, one who was deserving of her wrath, then she would eat their heart up in the marketplace!

And Sonata, who had done her wrong, stood right before her.

Some little good I mean to do, for all my wrath.

Sonata whooped delightedly. “You know, your power really makes a big difference to the taste! It’s like the difference between … between avocado crema and no sauce at all. I wonder if Amber will taste this good.”

“I thought you’d promised to spare her,” Cinder grunted.

“We did,” Sonata confirmed. “But what are you gonna do? Not pass up free food, that’s for sure!” she giggled.

Cinder scowled. “So … you like surprises? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Sonata cocked her head. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Fire blazed from Cinder’s right eye. “I can break these restraints!” she yelled, as fire leapt from her hands, fire like the sun blazing all around her, erupting out in all directions, a protective dome of fire expanding outwards, hurling the soldiers around her backwards in all directions, melting the bonds that restrained.

They turned to ash and fell like vanquished grimm to land round Cinder’s feet.

Cinder turned and hurled a fireball into the open hatch leading into the Valish transport. The vehicle exploded, a column of fire leaping upwards into the sky as Cinder turned to face Sonata once again.

“And that,” she declared, “is how you do pyrotechnics!”

Flames leapt up in the palms of both her hands as Cinder strode towards Sonata, intent upon burning her to—

Sonata opened her mouth, and a crimson beam leapt from her maw to slam straight into Cinder’s chest. Cinder felt the blow to her aura; it was stronger than any of Sunset’s magic, and stronger than a blow from Pyrrha too; it knocked her off her feet and bore her backwards, hurling her through the burning wreckage of the transport to land heavily upon the tarmac on the other side.

What?

“Surprise!” Sonata called cheerily as she strode through the flames. “Betcha thought that singing was all I could do, right? Well, since you and Tempest were so nice as to feed me so much all by myself, I can do lots of other stuff too. Like this.” She began to sing again, a song without words, a soft and lilting melody, almost like a lullaby that a mother might sing to her child.

And as she sang, as she hummed the wordless song, as nectar and ambrosia flowed from her mouth to tickle Cinder’s ears, an iridescent light flowed out of her mouth as though her voice was too lovely to be for the ears alone but had to be seen, somehow, to be believed.

Tears sprang to the corners of Cinder’s eyes. She was … what had she been thinking? Hate Sonata? Attack Sonata? Kill Sonata? What madness had overtaken her? How beef-witted had she become? Kill Sunset, yes, kill Pyrrha, certainly, but kill Sonata? Strike down this beautiful voice?

Strike down Sonata, and you banished all loveliness from Remnant.

Kill Sonata, and you killed all the world.

Sonata put her hands on her hips. “We’re not going to have any more problems, are we?”

Cinder shook her head mutely, for it would be such immeasurable arrogance to dare to make a sound in the presence of a voice so sublime as hers.

“Awesome!” Sonata chirruped. “Because I’ve got plans for you, Cindy! You’d better believe we’re not done with you yet!”

Atlesian Orders (New)

Atlesian Orders

Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper, officer commanding the Fourth Squadron, looked young for her rank, never mind her position. She was young for both, but all of her superiors up until this point had given her glowing recommendations — Thornmane in particular had clearly thought the world of her — and she had earned praise from the Mistralians — not always easy — during a tour of duty in and around Anima, not to mention her actions around Crystal City.

And she had friends in high places. Councillor Sleet was a strong advocate for her, even if Ironwood wasn’t entirely sure why. Still, when it came to the approval of promotions, having a Councillor on your side was never a bad thing and — combined with her having shown that she’d earned it — had been more than sufficient to carry Olive Harper up the ladder to the rank of lieutenant colonel. And then, in a lucky break for her, Colonel Barrow had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, requiring him to fly to Atlas immediately for treatment. And so, as senior officer, Olive Harper was now in command of an entire squadron: four cruisers, a carrier, a battalion of infantry and their support Paladins, not to mention fighters, bombers, and support vessels.

Ironwood would have worried about some officers thrust into that position, but Harper had shown that she was willing to grab responsibility with both hands.

She was a woman of medium height, who looked her youth — not quite so young as Schnee, but not much older — not least in the way that she dressed. She wore gold hoop earrings in both her ears like some kind of pirate, while she wore her uniform jacket without sleeves — she hadn’t torn them off; rather, they had been removed by her tailor, with blue lines marking where they ought to have been — in the kind of move that spoke, if not to the vanity of youth, then at least to the surety that you could reveal what you liked without putting people off by what they saw there. That said, a lot of her arms were covered by black arm warmers, and chunky metallic vambraces with blue lines running down the middle of them protected her upper arms, just as a pair of small metal pauldrons sat on her shoulders like epaulettes.

Her eyes were olive green, and she wore her black hair short, extending down just past her ears at the back, with straight bangs sweeping across her forehead.

Beneath her waist was not revealed by the hologram of her that was currently being projected above Ironwood’s desk as she frowned too small eyebrows at him.

“You want me to refuse the right flank of my battalion, sir?” she asked. “Where we meet the Valish?”

“That’s correct,” Ironwood said. He stood in his office aboard the Valiant, hands clasped behind his back. “Continue to maintain contact with the Patch Light Infantry, but I want you to refuse your flank back behind them so that—” so that if the Valish turn on us, you won’t be taken in the flank or rear “—so that if the grimm attack and break through the Valish line, you won’t be left with your flank hanging in the air by them breaking.”

The frown remained on Harper’s face. “Do you think they’ll break, sir?”

“They’re not us, Harper,” Ironwood reminded her. “I’m not saying that means they will break; I’m just saying that we can’t rely on them to hold their position as if they were an Atlesian battalion.”

“I suppose not, sir, but,” Harper paused, “if you want me to refuse back while still covering the same frontage, that’s a thinner line; that’s less firepower that can be turned to help support the Valish. Rather than making plans in case the Valish infantry can’t hold their ground, shouldn’t we be trying to support them so that they can hold?”

You’d be absolutely right, if the Valish holding was what we were worried about, Ironwood thought. But he couldn’t tell Harper that his real concern was that the Valish would start shooting at them, because things like that had a habit of getting out; suspicion would breed like a fungus, and then they would run the risk that the Atlesian forces, not the Valish, might start the shooting.

“That’s why I want you to position one of your ships over the flank, in position to offer supporting fire to the Valish if necessary,” Ironwood said, not mentioning the fact that this would also enable the ship to fire down upon the Valish in the worst case scenario. “But I still want to take precautions, just in case.”

“Understood, sir,” Harper said. “And stand to the troops?”

“They don’t all need to spend all night on the firing line,” Ironwood said, “but I want increased sentries, and all personnel are to be ready for action.” He had already issued orders throughout the fleet cancelling all leaves and ordering everyone back to their ships or units. “All airships fuelled up, all weapons ready; I don’t want to be caught napping when the grimm attack.”

“Don’t you mean if the grimm attack, sir?”

Ironwood sighed. “Look at the numbers of them out there, Harper; do you think it’s if or when?”

“We might get lucky, and they’ll hold off until we’ve gone home, sir,” Harper suggested.

“Because they’re frightened of us?”

“They should be, sir,” Harper replied.

Ironwood smiled, but nevertheless said, “Don’t get overconfident, Harper.”

“No, sir,” Harper said. “But I’d like to think I know my own worth, and I know how much my men and women are worth as well.”

“So do I, Harper, so do I,” Ironwood assured her. “But if I might give you some more advice?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Deploy your artillery now,” Ironwood said. “It will give you one less thing to worry about when the battle begins.”

“Understood, sir,” Harper said. “I’ll be sorry to miss tomorrow’s matches. Or is it today’s matches now?”

“Yes, yes, they’re today’s matches,” Ironwood said. “It’s been a long night.”

“I’m still sorry I won’t be able to watch them,” Harper said. “So will the squadron.”

“I’ll record them for you all,” Ironwood said. “That’ll be all for now, Harper.”

Harper saluted. “Sir.”

Her image disappeared, leaving Ironwood alone in his office for a moment.

Aware that a moment might be all he had before Schnee and the Ace Ops arrived, Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind him and leaned upon his desk.

He bowed his head.

The fact that he even had to consider how he would respond if the Valish turned on them.

If they were driven to turn on them; he had to remember that it would not be their doing. If it were their doing, that wouldn’t make it any easier to bear, but it might make it easier to blow their meagre air power out of the sky before raining down fire upon their ground troops from above.

But it was not their doing, not their fault; they were being … coerced, controlled; Ironwood didn’t know enough about this damn siren, this thing that had gotten into the heads or the hearts of the people and the soldiers of Vale; he didn’t know enough about it to know how he ought to describe what she had done or was doing.

What he knew enough to understand was that in the eighty years since the Great War, the forces of two kingdoms had never come to blows, there had been no shots fired between them.

And now, that might change.

Ironwood did not fear the judgement of history — he wasn’t afraid to have his name written as the officer commanding at ground zero when the shots were fired — but he was afraid of, or afraid for, those who would perish if those shots were fired.

Those who would perish to no avail, for nothing at all.

Would there be a more pointless waste of life than this?

And yet, because of one person, one creature, one thing, it might come to pass.

And his best plan to prevent that, without simply slaughtering the Valish forces … it hung by a somewhat slender thread. There was no guarantee that General Blackthorn would surrender, or that his forces would obey his order to surrender if they were under some kind of magical influence.

But short of battle in the skies above Vale, and in the streets of Vale, and in the fields before Vale, short of fighting the Valish with everything they had at the same time as they were trying to fight the grimm, it was the best he could do.

There was a quick beep to alert him before the voice of Schnee floated up from his desk. “Sir, I’m outside with Ebi and his team.”

Ironwood straightened up and, once more, clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Schnee. You may enter.”

“Yes, sir,” Schnee said as the door into Ironwood’s office opened.

The booted feet of Schnee and the five members of Ebi’s team echoed a little upon the metallic floor as they trooped into the office, forming a line facing Ironwood’s desk. Schnee and Ebi were at the centre of the line, Schnee on the right and Ebi on the left.

Clover Ebi, leader of the squad, was not the tallest man in the unit — that honour went to Zeki — but he was a tall man, with the kind of movie-star good looks that made him seem more like a propaganda image of a soldier than the real thing. His shoulders were broad, but not overly so; his arms were muscular, but not too muscular. His jaw was square, but clean-shaven, and his brown hair was cut short and styled so as to stick upwards just a little bit. His eyes, of course, were blue. He wore a sleeveless white vest — like Harper, and like some of his squadmates, Ebi had the courage of youth to show off those arms of his — with blue accents on the side and the top button undone to reveal the red interior lining. A red bandana was tied around his left arm, while fingerless gloves covered his hands. His pants were white, and his boots were black with blue laces.

Elm Ederne stood on his right, looming over him by a couple of inches; she wasn’t even the tallest member of the unit, but she was definitely the broadest in the shoulder and in the arms; she looked like she’d been carved out of the wood that she was named for, such was the impression of solidity that she exuded as she stood at attention. She wore a short mess jacket — very short, all things considered — white, with blue side panels, that stopped several inches short of her waist and was worn open and unbuttoned, exposing the grey body armour that she wore underneath. One sleeve was missing — but only one — and solid metal vambraces surrounded her lower arms. She wore a thin red sash around her waist, and red laces on her blue open-toed boots.

Vine Zeki anchored the line on the right flank. He was the tallest member of the squad, although there was only an inch in it between him and Ederne, and exceedingly thin to go along with it, a slender rapier of a man with a complexion that was paper white and a face that was all angles, a sharp chin and high cheekbones. He had several blue dots tattooed on his face, moving in a straight line upwards from his cheek, culminating in a third eye set in the middle of his forehead. His hair was shaved so short that he was practically bald, but what could be seen of it was grey. With the best will in the world, nobody would be putting him on any propaganda posters. He wore a long tailcoat, white with blue side panels and blue sleeves, worn open to reveal the two necklaces of grey beads that hung from his neck across his chest — prayer beads, Ironwood believed; he knew that Zeki belonged to some sort of Mistralian mystery cult, but he didn’t have the details; if he had, it wouldn’t have been much of a mystery, would it? — but unlike Ebi, and indeed Ederne, his pants were blue instead of white, with high, steel-toecapped boots that came up past his knees. He wore two broad sashes, one around his waist and the other across his chest from shoulder to thigh, covering most of the jacket as it went. On his right wrist, he wore more beads, three loose-hanging bracelets in total, while on his left, a pair of solid silver bangles hung.

Harriet Bree stood on Schnee’s left, with the difference in height between them being so severe that it seemed almost as though there was a gap in the formation. She was practically bald, with just two tufts of pale blonde hair sticking up with wings over the centre of her forehead, and a narrow strip of dark brown hair running down the centre of her head apart from that. Her eyes were magenta, set in a round face of dark complexion. She wore a dark blue t-shirt with a red neckerchief, and over it, a short-sleeved white vest with blue side panels matching the blue lines down the outsides of her pants. While the other members of the squad did not have their weapons with them, Bree was wearing hers, the harness of her Fast Knuckles strapped across her chest, ready to deploy from her back to her arms at any moment.

Tortuga Castellon anchored the left flank, a burly figure but not quite so much so as Ederne, with dark green scales — he was a tortoise faunus — mottling his skin, visible mostly on his face and his left arm, his most visible features. His neck was hidden beneath the thick — tidy and well-groomed, but long and thick nonetheless — black beard, flecked with grey, that fell from his neck to cover half his chest, while his blue jacket had its white right sleeve to cover up that arm, leaving only the left visible. A pair of black fingerless gloves covered his hands, while a red pocket handkerchief jutted up out of the breast pocket of his jacket. His hair was black, tied in a queue behind his head, and like his beard, it was starting to show a little grey in it.

“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Ebi said.

“At ease,” Ironwood said.

Six feet slammed into the deck in unison, the sound reverberating off the walls of the office.

“I know it’s late,” Ironwood said. “Rest assured, I wouldn’t be keeping you from your bunks if it weren’t important.” He turned away, looking out of the window. Vale was spread out before him, illuminated by a vast array of lights, some blinking, others still. So many lights, such a vast city. Possibly a battleground, if their enemies had their way.

“What I am about to tell you does not leave this room,” he said, “under pain of court martial. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Schnee said, her voice inflected with the slightest hint of curiosity.

Ironwood turned back to them. “As you may be aware,” he said, “Beacon’s Team Sapphire, with support from our own Team Rosepetal, managed to capture a prisoner tonight, the wanted criminal Cinder Fall.”

“Yes, sir,” Ebi said. He didn’t mention what else had happened tonight. None of them did.

“She had some disturbing intelligence to share,” Ironwood went on. “According to Miss Fall…” He paused. “The Valish high command has been compromised and may become hostile.”

Castellon bit back a curse, while Ederne exclaimed, “What?” Ebi’s eyebrows rose, while Schnee frowned. Bree’s hands clenched into fists. Only Zeki seemed unmoved by what he had just heard.

“'Compromised,' sir?” Ebi asked. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that they may attempt to engage us in battle,” Ironwood said.

Ederne whistled.

“Permission to speak, sir?” Bree asked.

“Go ahead, Bree,” Ironwood said.

“How sure are we of this intel, sir?” asked Bree. “How do we know we aren’t being fed a bunch of bull just to make us jump at shadows?”

“We don’t,” Ironwood said bluntly. “Which is why I’m telling you this in private, on pain of court martial; I don’t want to give the fleet a case of itchy trigger fingers towards what are still our allies. But I also don’t want to be caught with our pants down if the intel turns out to be correct.”

“What are our orders, sir?” asked Schnee.

Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind his back, getting out his scroll and placing it on his desk. A holographic image appeared over said desk, between Ironwood on the one hand and his personnel on the other.

The image showed a large building, in the brutalist concrete style, with four tall, almost monolithic towers rising above the lower sections that connected them. Atop each tower was set a large, double-barrelled anti-air gun. The centre of the structure was hollow, an open square like the courtyard of an old castle — and just like a castle, there were very few windows in the concrete. Although roads ran along all four sides of the structure, there were concrete barricades set up at the corners of the roads to make approaching by car an impossibility past a certain point.

“This is the command headquarters of the Valish Defence Force,” Ironwood explained. “It’s where their Department of Defence staff are based, and it’s where, in the event of an attack on Vale, the high command will issue their orders from. In the event of hostilities, I want you to descend upon the command centre, take General Blackthorn and his senior officers prisoner, and compel him to order his troops to surrender and stand down.” He paused. “I’m aware that this isn’t an easy assignment. I’m telling you this now so that you have time to consider your approach.”

“Any reason we can’t just level the place from the air, sir?” asked Ederne.

“Two reasons,” Ironwood said, “the first being that the command centre isn’t in the building; it’s in a bunker underneath it; we could level the whole building, and they’d still be alright in there, and they’d be harder to get to. The second reason is that I don’t want them dead; I want them to order their forces to surrender before we have to turn Vale into a battlefield. Just because the Valish officers are about to do something stupid doesn’t mean the soldiers should have to suffer the consequences.”

Ebi nodded. “Is it just us, sir, or—?”

“Additional support is possible,” Ironwood said, “but the grimm outside the walls remain our primary concern, and the Valish forces will be shooting at us at the same time, so resources will be tight. What’s on your mind?”

“An airstrike to take out those turrets would be a good start, sir,” Ebi observed.

Ironwood nodded. “That should be doable. Anything else?”

Ebi glanced towards Bree. “Harriet, any thoughts?”

Bree frowned. “Do we have schematics on the bunker, sir? Location relative to the building, access points?”

“Unfortunately not,” Ironwood replied. “I know it exists, but the Valish haven’t shared the details.”

“I wonder why,” muttered Castellon.

“That’ll slow us down,” Bree said. She paused. “If they are planning to turn on us, then they’ll be set up to defend their base, but on the assumption that their defences will be facing outwards, our best bet would be to insert aerially into the centre courtyard and gain entry into the building and then the bunker from there.”

“If we had another squad,” Schnee began. Then it was her turn to pause for a moment, cupping her chin with one hand. “Sir, if we have the manpower for it, I’ll lead a squad in a diversionary attack against the exterior of the headquarters, pinning down the defenders and allowing Ebi’s unit to enter from the courtyard while the defenders are distracted.”

“Specialists or Military Huntsmen?”

“Specialists would be ideal, sir,” Schnee replied. “And some knights, to add to the impression of a serious offensive effort.”

“And two squads of Military Huntsmen,” Bree added.

“'Two squads'?” Ederne asked.

Harriet nodded. “Two Skyrays filled with military huntsmen; one squad led by Clover, with Tortuga and me, the other with Elm and Vine. As soon as the air defences are down and Schnee’s squad has engaged the enemy, we drop into the courtyard, then split up. Clover goes west, Elm and Vine go east, we each look for a way down into the bunker while continuing to split the defending forces.”

“You did hear what I said about resources being tight?” asked Ironwood

“Yes sir,” Bree said. “And if it’s too much, then we can cut our cloth. But it’s the best plan that I can come up with, in view of our lack of intel.”

“If we could be certain of what you’d be up against in there, then we could be certain of whether this was necessary,” Ironwood muttered. He looked at the hologram. “What are your thoughts on Bree’s plan, Ebi?”

“I’ve learned to trust Harriet’s judgement, sir,” Ebi said. “If she thinks that this is our best option, then I’m inclined to agree with her.” He took a breath. “However, in light of our circumstances, I think that we could manage this by ourselves, inserting—”

“You can have two mixed squads, each with two military huntsmen and six marines,” Ironwood said. “I can’t spare that many military huntsmen, but we won’t need the marines on Valiant; we shouldn’t, anyway.” He turned his attention to Schnee. “You can have one squad of specialists; you can choose them yourself, but don’t tell them about this until it becomes necessary. As far as anyone outside of this room knows, this was a plan that you came up with on the fly in the face of an unexpected emergency, understood?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Zeki said.

“No one will breathe a word of it, sir,” Ebi said.

“Sir,” said Schnee. “If I may, what are the Valish thinking of? There are grimm outside the walls, and they’re planning to attack us?”

“I wish I knew, Schnee,” Ironwood said. “I wish I could say for certain that the Valish were acting rationally. I’m not sure that that’s true.”

“Anger does make people act irrationally,” Zeki observed, “and a great deal of anger has been whipped up against us in the streets of Vale.”

“Quite,” Ironwood said. It was not entirely what he’d meant, but he’d take it anyway. “Remember, try and avoid Valish casualties if you can; it’s not their fault they’re being led down this path. But, at the same time, the mission comes first.”

“Of course, sir,” Ebi said. “You can rely on us.”

“I’m sure I can,” Ironwood said. “Everyone is going to be on standby for the next few days, due to the threat of the grimm attack, so you won’t be alone in that, but stay sharp. That’s all, dismissed, get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir!” Ebi said as all six specialists came to attention, feet slamming down upon the floor.

Ebi and Schnee saluted, which Ironwood returned, before they turned to leave, trooping out of his office as they had entered it.

Only Schnee lingered, remaining behind when all the others had gone.

“Something on your mind, Schnee?” Ironwood asked, as the door into the office closed with Schnee still on his side of it.

Schnee hesitated for a moment. “Permission … to ask two questions, sir?”

Ironwood nodded. “Granted.”

“Compromised by who, sir?” asked Schnee.

“Hmm?”

“You said that the Valish high command had been compromised,” Schnee reminded him. “But you didn’t say by who?”

Ironwood turned away from her, moving towards the window once again. “I would like to tell you everything, Schnee,” he said. “And I will. Just not tonight. Focus on the mission for now. Answers will come later.”

“I see, sir,” Schnee murmured.

“Does that answer your other question as well?” asked Ironwood.

“No, sir,” Schnee replied. “My other question … are you going to be getting some sleep yourself?”

Ironwood chuckled. “Soon, Schnee, yes. Not immediately, but soon.”

“I see,” Schnee murmured. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Schnee,” Ironwood replied.

He heard the door open, and he saw Schnee’s reflection in the window disappear, swallowed by the closing of the door again.

Ironwood remained at the window, looking out across the city. How many people, he wondered, in that city down below, were aware of the situation they were in? How many knew about the grimm, about the likelihood of a new attack on Vale? How good a job had the tournament done in distracting all of them?

How little had the First Councillor decided to tell them? How many secrets had he decided to keep in the public interest?

Could they get through this without the people finding out?

Probably not, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t worth trying.

Ironwood walked back to his desk and sat down in his seat. As he had told Schnee, he was going to go to bed, but not quite yet. He had a couple more calls to make first.

He pushed a button on his desk, connecting him to the Valiant’s CIC. “Hodgson, put me through to Mistralian Polemarch Yeoh; voice only.”

“Aye, sir,” Hodgson said. Des Voeux’s watch had ended by now; Hodgson was his replacement on the comms. “Patching you through … assuming that she’s still awake to take calls, sir. There may not be a reply.”

“I’m aware, Hodgson,” Ironwood said. If she is asleep, she might be smarter than I am. “But I need you to try anyway.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Hodgson said.

There was a moment of silence; that moment was followed by another, and another, silence stretching out as there was no reply from Polemarch Yeoh. Ironwood was about to accept that she had turned in and give it up for the night, to try again tomorrow, when there was an answer, the voice of Polemarch Yeoh rising up from his desk to waft into the office.

“General Ironwood,” she said, with a slight trace of a yawn in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you at such an hour.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Ironwood said.

“No, although you should have,” Yeoh replied. “I was toasting our successes with some of the other officers. In the tournament, I mean.”

“Yes, I gathered that,” Ironwood said. “Are two students through to the final round really worth toasting?”

“Three students, General, please,” Yeoh said, a hint of reproach entering her tone.

Ironwood chuckled. “Very well, three students. I’m sure you’re very proud.”

“As are you, I’m sure, for all that you have not been so successful,” Yeoh said.

Ironwood didn’t bother to respond to that. “I’m sorry to have dragged you away from your drink of choice,” he said, “but I’m afraid that this isn’t a social call.”

“Somehow, I thought it wouldn’t be,” Yeoh said. “Does this have anything to do with the capture of that rogue Cinder Fall by Pyrrha Nikos and her teammates — and some of your students were present as well, I believe, congratulations.”

“I have to admit that Team Sapphire did most of the work,” Ironwood said. “But yes, this is related.”

“Does it have to do with the accusations made against Sunset Shimmer?” asked Yeoh. “You don’t believe them, I hope?”

Ironwood raised his eyebrows, for all that he knew that the Polemarch couldn’t see the gesture. “You’re convinced of her innocence? Do you know Miss Shimmer?”

“No, I don’t,” Yeoh said. “And in truth, I don’t know that she didn’t do this thing that she is accused of. But what I do know is that Lady Nikos entrusted that girl with Soteria, the black sword of the Kommenos champions, a blade to which the Nikos family now has undeniable right, now that Lady Kommenos is dead. Sunset Shimmer is the bearer of the sword not only in the physical possession of the blade but also in having received it from the hand of she who had the unquestionable right to bestow it on her.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me when I say that I’m afraid I’ll never fully understand Mistralians,” Ironwood murmured.

“You Atlesians, on the other hand, are so simple to comprehend,” Yeoh said, leaving Ironwood with the distinct feeling that he’d just been insulted, “but my point is that the bearer of Soteria could never do anything dishonourable.”

“Because only someone incapable of dishonour would be given the sword?” Ironwood asked. “Or because the act of carrying the sword renders her every action honourable by default?”

“The sword will not serve one who is unworthy of it,” Yeoh said.

“I see,” Ironwood murmured. He didn’t, actually, but he felt that further discussion upon the point was unlikely to bring him any enlightenment so he was prepared to move on to the matter at hand. “As it happens, that isn’t why I’m calling you. I’m calling you because Cinder Fall was interrogated tonight, and she suggested…” He trailed off.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to spit it out, General, if you want my assistance,” Yeoh said after a moment's silence. “I can’t help you based on my guess of what you might say.”

“She suggested that the Valish senior officers had been compromised,” Ironwood said, “and that they might turn hostile towards my forces.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “That … is quite an accusation to make,” Yeoh said. “Did she offer any proof?”

“What proof could she have offered?” Ironwood asked.

“A letter?” Yeoh suggested. “An incriminating note? A deleted email, retrieved from a server, perhaps?”

Ironwood could not help but chuckle lightly. “No such luck, I’m afraid.”

“And yet, you don’t discount the possibility that she’s telling the truth,” Yeoh said. “If you did, you wouldn’t be calling me.”

“I know that you’ve also noticed General Blackthorn’s … strange behaviour lately,” Ironwood said. “With regards to the grimm, amongst other things.”

“I half think that a man who was planning to stab you in the back might be a little less obvious about it,” Yeoh observed. “But, yes, I have noticed. And I did promise you my assistance, didn’t I? Although in the event of a conflict between yourself and the Valish, I’m not sure my forces would be needed to tip the scales.”

“Don’t worry,” Ironwood said, “I’m not asking you to fight the Valish Defence Forces; but if their troops pull back from their position on the front lines, if they abandon their posts, can you bring your troops in to plug the gap? Or, even if the Valish attempt to hold their ground, can you at least stand by as a reserve? I’m afraid they might not have the inclination or the ability to bring up fresh troops if the Red Line comes under pressure.”

Yeoh sighed. “And to think, I thought this might be something of a vacation,” she whispered. “My men are very green, General, and if I was going to blood them, I would hope to do it in calmer circumstances than facing a grimm horde.”

“You have my sympathies,” Ironwood said, “but the circumstances have been chosen for us; we can’t back out just because we don’t like it.”

“Well, I could sail away,” Yeoh said. “I still have the ships for it.”

Ironwood was very still, for all the good that stillness would do him on a voice-only call. “Are you telling me that this is goodbye?”

“No, General Ironwood, fear not,” Yeoh said. “If I were to flee back to Mistral with my tail between my legs, especially abandoning the Haven students, I would be humiliated back home, and deservedly so. No, as you say, the circumstances have been set for us; all we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. But, as I say, my troops are green in more ways than just their uniforms, and my ship — that I have still not handed over to the Valish — is…”

“Old?” Ironwood suggested.

“A flying bucket,” Yeoh said. “If we are forced to occupy the Valish line, or even reinforce it, I will need fire support from your airships.”

“And you’ll get it,” Ironwood said. “You have my word on that.”

“And the word of an Atlesian officer is his bond,” said Yeoh. “Very well, General Ironwood, although I’m sure you won’t mind me saying that I hope you’re wrong about this.”

“Believe me, Polemarch Yeoh, I hope I’m wrong about this too,” Ironwood replied. “But thank you; I might be able to put some of my men on the line alongside yours, but … thank you. It’s good to know that there’s someone out here that I don’t have to worry about.”

“Instead you’ve given me something to worry about,” Yeoh muttered.

“My apologies,” Ironwood said. “I’ll let you go now, and give you no more additional problems.”

“Thank you, General; unfortunately, I seem to have lost my appetite for further toasting,” Yeoh said. “I’m sure that, if or when the shooting starts, we will speak again. Until then, good night. Yeoh out.”

Ironwood leaned back in his chair.

That’s one less thing to worry about.

But not the last thing to worry about.

He had left … had he left the most difficult conversation for last?

Luna.

The very idea, the fact that they knew who she was, and what she was.

The fact that Leo had told them.

I always knew he didn’t deserve her.

But then, thinking like that had been what got him into trouble with Luna in the first place.

Even so, if he had had Leo in his office right now, then what he’d do to him would have been no one’s business.

He found his hands had clenched just thinking about him. Putting Luna in danger, putting Twilight in danger, putting everyone in danger, how could … how?

At least Sunset Shimmer had been trying to save other people’s lives and not her own.

It didn’t excuse what she’d done, but it did make it a little less thoroughly despicable than Leo’s treachery.

If he was a traitor; Ironwood supposed that he should concede that it might be another lie from Cinder Fall; concede it, he begrudgingly did. But if Qrow reached Mistral and found that Leo was the traitor in their ranks … unfortunately, it wouldn’t surprise him.

Apart from anything else, there weren’t that many people who knew who all the Maidens were.

At least we found out now, rather than when Salem started to move on Atlas.

That was the comfort in this situation; Salem might know that Luna was the Winter Maiden, but she wasn’t coming for her now, although she might have more people at her disposal than they had thought — that reminded him; Ozpin had forgotten to ask Cinder Fall about the virus she’d tried to plant in the CCT; Ironwood himself was curious as to who had designed it; it was also a reminder to himself to speak to Lulamoon and Glimmer about Shadow tomorrow morning, first thing — she still didn’t have the numbers to try for Vale and Atlas at once. She would finish her business in Vale first, or try to, and only then would she try for Mistral or Atlas or Vacuo. They still had time.

Luna still had time.

Ironwood picked up his scroll from off the desk — the hologram of Valish headquarters had been there all this time, ever since Schnee and Ebi and the others had left; it only disappeared as he took up his scroll in his hand — and found Luna’s number.

He didn’t speak to her very often. There wasn’t a lot to say anymore.

Nevertheless, he was confident that she would still be up as she gave the picture of her face a little tap with one finger.

It was another voice only call. He probably wasn’t a great sight to see at the moment.

He was rewarded with a very swift answer, so fast that it was almost immediate.

“James,” Luna said. “What are you doing calling me so late? You woke me.”

“Did I?” Ironwood asked sceptically. “A night owl like you?”

“Can you not conceive that it might be possible that I’ve changed in the time since we were intimately acquainted?” asked Luna, in a prickly tone.

“Have you?” inquired Ironwood.

There was a pause. “No,” Luna admitted. “But I might have. And, perhaps more to the point, while I was a night owl, while I suppose I have to admit that I still am a night owl, you never were.” Concern entered her voice. “James, what are you doing up so late?” Concern departed her voice as swiftly as it had entered it. “You aren’t picking up all of Ozpin’s bad habits, are you? You’re not the old man; you need rest.”

“And you don’t?”

“I can turn moonlight into energy; it’s my semblance,” Luna declared.

“No,” Ironwood said, “it isn’t.”

“Well, if you’re going to be pedantic about it,” Luna said airily. “What is it, James? I know you wouldn’t be calling me if it wasn’t important.”

Ironwood wished that he didn’t have to tell her. He wished that they could have just talked for longer — about the tournament, about Canterlot, about … anything at all. But she was right; he did have something important to discuss with her, something that she needed to know. “I’ve got bad news, Luna. I need you to pack your bags and come to Atlas; Canterlot isn’t safe for you anymore. Salem knows that you’re the Winter Maiden.”

“She … how?” Luna asked.

“We aren’t certain yet, but she knows the identities of all the Maidens, and … their locations,” Ironwood said. One of the reasons why the list of potential traitors in their ranks was so small was that the four Maidens were not privy to the identities of their fellow Maidens, only the headmasters and their lieutenants — where they had them — knew that. Given that two of the current four Maidens had found the pressure of the job too much for them, that seemed like a wise decision on Ozpin’s part. “They know who you are, and they know where you are; you need to move.”

“How do you know this?” Luna asked. “How do you know they know?”

“We captured one of Salem’s operatives tonight; she confessed … she confessed.”

“And you believe her?”

“I don’t believe every word that came out of her mouth, but I believe this,” Ironwood said. “She had details about the Maidens that were accurate, and that she could only have gotten from an informant—”

“Did she name this informant?”

“We don’t know that he—”

“He?” Luna asked. “It can’t be Ozpin, and if you were the mole, you wouldn’t be calling me, so is it Theodore or Leo?”

“We don’t know for certain that it’s either of them,” Ironwood said.

“But you believe … it’s Leo, isn’t it?” Luna asked, her voice soft.

Ironwood closed his eyes. “How did you guess?”

“Because if it were Theodore, you wouldn’t be dancing around it so much,” Luna said. “But because it was Leo, you felt that you shouldn’t tell me.”

“As I’m saying, we don’t know—”

“Who else could it be?” Luna demanded. “Who else would know?”

“Theodore?” Ironwood suggested. “The naming of Leo could be misdirection.”

“But you don’t think so,” Luna said.

“No,” Ironwood said. “No, I don’t. There is other evidence against Leo besides the word of this one captive.”

“I see,” Luna whispered.

Ironwood leaned forwards, for all the good it did. “It’s not your fault, Luna.”

“I know perfectly well that it isn’t my fault; it’s his fault!” Luna exclaimed. “I just … I thought that we had left things on better terms than for him to sell me out to Salem.”

“I don’t think it was anything personal,” Ironwood said.

“Then why?” Luna demanded. “Why would … why, James? Answer me that, why? Why would he do something like this?”

“Apparently, it was to save himself,” Ironwood said. “I’m told he’s lost hope.”

Luna sighed. “I see. Well, that … that is disappointing, isn’t it? What will become of him?”

“Ozpin has sent Qrow to Mistral,” Ironwood said. “To get to the truth and … take care of it, if necessary.”

“Of course,” Luna murmured. “And … who will be the new headmaster of Haven?”

“Glynda, perhaps,” Ironwood said. “Although she was reluctant, she eventually agreed to take the job.”

“She will do well there, I think,” Luna said softly. “Although you might have put in a good word for Celestia or myself.”

“You?” Ironwood cried. “Luna, didn’t you hear what I said, your location has been compromised, you can’t stay in Canterlot anymore—”

“Yes, James, I heard you perfectly well,” Luna said. “And…” — she sighed once more — “as much as it pains me, as much as I would like to sit here and tell you point blank that I’m not leaving, that I like it here, that I’m needed here—”

“You know that if you stay—”

“Yes, I know that if I stay, then I put the children in danger!” Luna snapped. “That’s why I said that that was what I would like to say! If you’re going to call me up in the middle of the night to uproot me from my life and drag me into some box in Atlas, then kindly allow me to be a little bit annoyed about it!”

Ironwood didn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he did speak, he was quiet, “Of course. I know that this isn’t ideal.”

“I don’t want to be alone, James,” Luna said. “I don’t want to put the children in danger, I obviously don’t want them to be caught in the crossfire, but … this school, the children, Celestia … it’s my life. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be alone; you’ll be in Atlas,” Ironwood told her.

“Doing what?” Luna demanded. “Hiding?”

“I was going to put you in command of a ship,” Ironwood said. “Ozpin didn’t like the idea.”

There was a moment of silence from Luna. “Really?”

“Why not?” Ironwood asked. “Don’t you think you could handle it?”

“I’d like to think I could,” Luna said. “But Ozpin does not?”

“He’s worried you’ll die in a crash,” Ironwood said.

“Old worrywart,” Luna grumbled. “So it is to be a black box then, a small room and occasional visits from you?”

“How about a classroom instead?” suggested Ironwood, as an idea struck him.

Another pause from Luna, before she said, “A classroom?”

“You have the experience for it,” Ironwood said. “And classrooms don’t crash.”

“Not usually,” Luna murmured dryly. “But … a classroom? At Atlas Academy?”

“Not a remarkable step, for a teacher at a combat school,” Ironwood said. “Nobody will think it strange. In fact, it will raise a lot fewer eyebrows than command of a cruiser.”

“But what would I teach?” asked Luna. “There are no vacancies at Atlas, and if you fire a perfectly good teacher—”

“Actually, I was thinking of adding a subject to the curriculum,” Ironwood said. “One that … doesn’t always get the exposure that it perhaps should: Nightmares. I mean, aside from being a huntress and a Maiden, you’re also a trained nightmare hunter. I wonder where you find the time.”

“Very droll, James.”

“I’m being serious about the class,” Ironwood said. “You could teach the students about nightmares: how they hunt, who they’re attracted to, what to do if you think someone has been infected by a nightmare; and, of course, how to deal with them.”

“It’s niche,” Luna warned him.

“So is theology, but you can still get a doctorate in it,” Ironwood pointed out. “Nightmares exist, they’re a threat, and there’s a credible case to be made that people — or at least, future huntsmen and huntresses — should be better informed about them than they are. It’s a case I can make when it comes to getting you on the staff.”

From Luna’s tone, Ironwood guessed that she was smiling as she said, “You’ve thought this through.”

“Actually, it just came to me,” Ironwood said.

“Then I commend you on your improvisational skills,” Luna said. “You … you would really do this? You would create a whole new subject just for me?”

Ironwood leaned back in his chair once more. “One of my students taught me something this year, Luna, or rather, they reminded me of something that I knew to be true in the abstract, but … people aren’t meant to live in cages. Even if we say it’s for the greater good, they … that still doesn’t give us the right to confine them. I don’t want to … I want to be a better man than that.”

“You are.”

“I wasn’t,” Ironwood said. “Not to her.”

“Past tense?” Luna asked. “Is she—?”

“Transferring,” Ironwood said. “She’s free. I can’t set you free, Luna, the burden that you carry doesn’t allow for that, but that doesn’t mean I have to confine you. I know this isn’t what you sought—”

“But it may … it will … it will do,” Luna said, before he could finish. “It does not change the fact that it will be a wrench to leave … but it will do. Thank you, James, thank you with … thank you.”

First Response (New)

First Response

Professor Port’s voice was booming, echoing, descending upon Pyrrha’s ears from all sides, louder even than the cheering of the crowds that descended upon her like waves about to flood the colosseum.

“And there we have it! After that final match, the champion of the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament is … Pyrrha Nikos!”

Pyrrha couldn’t see who she had beaten in this final match; an indistinct shape lay at her feet, faceless, lacking in details … although she thought that they were too short to be Rainbow Dash, they were more the size of Arslan, or perhaps Yang.

But it was hard to tell; they were little more than a shadow on the ground.

It was the same with the crowd too, the crowd that cheered her on, that cried out her name over and over, that shouted until their throats must have been hoarse; they filled up the arena, they made so much noise that it was as if the whole of Remnant had to come to this place to witness and acclaim her glory and yet … and yet, she could hardly see them. They were so indistinct; she knew that they were there, and yet, they were nothing but a blur in her eyes.

The world was bright, the sun shone full down upon her through the gap in the centre of the arena, and yet, she could hardly see anything. All things past the floor on which she stood, the floating platform raised up out of the arena floor, all else was vague and insubstantial to her.

Yet, Pyrrha stood in the centre of the Amity Colosseum, arms raised up in triumph, bearing her arms that they might catch the sunlight and gleam golden, letting the acclaim fall upon her like rain, so that even as the floor descended down, she was raised to the skies by the cheering of the crowd.

She was the Vytal champion, she was the victor, she was acclaimed.

She was alone.

Pyrrha was alone; she stood alone, and she could not see anyone who might alleviate that loneliness. Even as the surface upon which she stood descended back down onto the ground, no one came to join her; Jaune did not emerge out of the tunnels to run to her side and take her in his arms, Ruby did not offer her congratulations, and Sunset … Sunset would not come, of course, not now. No sign of Penny, either.

She was alone; even her opponent, whoever they might be, had vanished. Pyrrha had taken her eye off them for a moment, raising her head to soak up the cheering of the crowd, and they had disappeared.

And everything was growing darker. She could still hear perfectly well, the cheering went on as lustily as ever, but she could see even less than before, even the sun…

The sun was being blocked by the autumn leaves that were falling from … somewhere. Pyrrha knew not whence they came, but they deluged her just as much as the cheering did, falling out of the sky as though some airship hovering overhead had brought a shipload of maple leaves, rich and golden and perfect, and now released them to fall down through the hole in the roof to fall slowly down towards the surface, surrounding Pyrrha. None landed on her, none touched her skin, none got caught in her long ponytail, but they fell down all around her in a shower of gold and red, forming a thick carpet all around so that the grey surface on which she had fought this battle disappeared completely.

The cheering went on, and on, and on.

Pyrrha turned around, and a gasp escaped her lips because in place of the exit, the tunnel leading out from the battlefield, instead, there stood before her a set of stone steps leading upwards, like the steps leading up to the Temple of Victory in Mistral.

Pyrrha’s feet bore her towards those steps almost without thought; she could do nothing else, go nowhere else; she was compelled there, drawn by a power greater than her will. Her high-heeled boots stepped lightly over the autumn leaves, crunching them underfoot as she reached the steps and, the cheering of the crowd still ringing in her ears, began to climb.

There was something at the top of the steps, something that became visible even as the rest of the world darkened around her: an altar, and standing above the altar as the statue of Victory loomed in the temple, was a statue of Fall.

She looked exactly as she had done in the illustrations of the book of fairy tales which her mother had read to her when Pyrrha was young and there had been less formality and sometime awkwardness between them, before Pyrrha had become such an obvious prodigy, when there had been more time for them to simply be mother and daughter.

This statue had the same hair, cut short into a bob, with straight cut bangs, as the illustration in the book; she wore the same blouse with the sleeves rolled up above her elbow, the same scarf tied around her neck, the same long skirt; she was Fall.

She was the Fall Maiden.

The crowd cheered on as Pyrrha climbed the steps. They cheered for all that Pyrrha could not see them.

All she could see now was the statue looming over her and the altar of pure white marble.

The altar on which had been laid all her victories, all the spoils that she had dedicated in the Temple of Victory, the laurels of her tournament victories … there was the golden horse that she had had commissioned after Team SAPR’s defeat of the Karkadann, the golden horse with sapphire eyes and onyx hooves and fiery hair and tail like Sunset had.

Pyrrha’s circlet was in her hands. She didn’t remember taking it off, but there it was nevertheless, in her palms, the gold bright against the brown of her gloves, and she slowly laid it down upon the altar with her laurel wreaths.

The last of her glories offered to the Fall Maiden.

The crowd kept cheering as a flame leapt up from nowhere and consumed all of Pyrrha’s offerings and trophies, the fire devouring up the gold, and turning it to ashes until nothing remained.

Nothing but the cheering.

Pyrrha’s eyes opened upon darkness, and for a moment, she thought with a sense of rising panic that it might be the darkness of oblivion, until someone switched the light on to illuminate the very familiar ceiling of the Team SAPR dorm room.

Pyrrha closed her eyes and attempted to restrict her sigh of relief to a gentle breath that would escape notice.

A dream. Just a dream.

“Good morning, everybody!” Penny declared cheerily. “I hope you all slept well!”

“Okay, I guess,” Jaune muttered. “But good morning anyway, Penny. I mean, I guess it is a pretty good morning. At least, I hope it is. What do you think, Pyrrha? Is it a good morning?”

Pyrrha might, uncharacteristically, have liked to simply lie in bed, lights on or no, for a few moments at least, but Jaune’s question proved to be the push that she needed to force herself to sit up and throw the blankets off of her as she swung her legs out to touch the floor beneath her feet.

“Good morning,” she said softly. She would have smiled at him and hoped that he would smile at her in turn, and that would have made her feel a little better instantly, but … she wasn’t sure how he would take it. She wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. And so she said, “As to whether it is a good morning or not…” She got up, and took a step towards the curtains before she yanked them open, allowing the light of the rising sun to drift in and compete with the artificial light.

It being the autumn, there was not so much sunlight that they could do without the lights on.

“It certainly seems to be a fine day for it,” Pyrrha said. “I can hardly see a cloud.”

“That’s not exactly what I—” Jaune began.

“That’s fantastic!” Penny declared. “We wouldn’t want rain on your big day! Not to mention Rainbow Dash, and your friend Arslan, and Yang, and … do you think Sun will go forward into the one-on-one round, or will it be Neptune?”

“I think it will be Sun,” Pyrrha said, glad of the distraction; she turned to face Penny. “Neptune is not unskilled, to be sure, but he does not … Sun is not only the more skilled, but he has the more flair in his performance.” One corner of her lip twitched upwards. “And I think he’ll want to show off for Blake.”

Amber mumbled wordlessly for a few moments, before some comprehensible words made their way out of her mouth. “Would whoever drew those curtains mind pulling them back again, and whoever turned the lights on turn them off? I’m afraid I’m not ready for this day to start yet.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Amber,” Penny said, “but I think that we probably need to get up and start getting ready.”

“Really?” Amber groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Dove asked, getting up off the camp bed, stretching his arms up. “Didn’t you sleep well?”

Amber was silent for a moment, before she said, “I certainly don’t feel as though I did. I had the strangest dream last night.”

“Like a nightmare?” asked Ruby, as she sat up in bed.

Amber appeared to concede that they were not going to turn off the lights and close the curtains, before she, too, sat up in bed. “No, it wasn’t a nightmare,” she explained. “I … I dreamed I dined with Ozpin, that we dined with him, you and I,” she said to Dove. “We … were in his office, only there was a giant dining table set up there, and we were sitting at one end, and Ozpin was sitting at the other end, and there was…” She trailed off.

Dove sat down on the bed, although the fact that Amber’s legs were still running down the length of the bed meant that he had to perch awkwardly upon the edge of it. Nevertheless, his gaze was wholly upon her, and he reached out to take her hand, and his voice was ever so tender as he asked, “There was what?”

“A … a great feast,” Amber said, turning her back on Dove as she swung her legs out of the other side of the bed. “A great feast laid out before us, so great that the table groaned beneath it, but … anything that I ate, it turned to ashes in my mouth, it tasted foul, rotten even.” She looked at him. “You … looked as though you wanted to be sick.”

“That doesn’t sound great,” Ruby muttered. “But I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. It’s just a dream, after all.”

“Is it?” Pyrrha asked softly.

Ruby frowned. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s all it was, because it was a dream.”

“And yet, dreams … can have power, upon occasion,” Pyrrha replied. “Not always, of course; many times, false dreams fly swiftly through the gate of ivory, but every now and then, a true dream will float through the gate of sawn horn to touch our minds with messages.”

“Messages from who?” asked Penny.

The question gave Pyrrha pause. Her ancestors, of course, had believed that it was the gods, particularly Erech, from whose domain the dreams arose to pass through the gates of horn or ivory, who were sending such true dreams, but the gods … had never been. There had only been two gods in Remnant, and neither of them were named Seraphis, or Tithys, or Re or Amphitrite, Erech, Callisto, Eulalia, or any other god or goddess in the pantheon. And yet, though Pyrrha knew that the gods of Mistral had never been gods, she could yet believe in much else contained within the tales, and she could believe in dreams.

“I know not,” she admitted. “And I know not whether it truly matters; yet, I believe that dreams may sometimes speak to us nonetheless and should not always be dismissed. In your case, Amber … though it may not have always been a pleasant dream, nonetheless, I think it may mean that you will reconcile with Professor Ozpin soon.” She smiled a little. “Although you may not have a feast in his office — it’s hard to think how he would get a table up there — you may have dinner with him, the two of you, before you … go.”

Amber looked over her shoulder at Pyrrha, then turned away again. “I don’t think that will happen,” she murmured. “I’m not sure that I’d even want it. Should I?”

Pyrrha hesitated. Sunset, if she had been here, would have encouraged the idea, without doubt, but Sunset was not here, and Pyrrha’s own attitude towards Professor Ozpin was … somewhat more ambivalent. After all, if it had been left up to Professor Ozpin, then Pyrrha’s body might be playing host to an amalgam of her and Amber’s souls right now.

And yet, at the same time… “I will not tell you how to feel, of course,” Pyrrha said, “but, when my mother and I were on the outs … although I would not have relented without an apology, once my mother unbent sufficiently to apologise, I am glad that I accepted it, rather than continuing to hold a grudge. But, as I say, it is your choice, not one that anyone here should make for you. And it may be that Ruby is right, and this dream of yours presages nothing at all but, if it is not so, please keep an open mind.”

She might have preferred it if Ruby had been right, at least tonight, because it would have meant that her dream, too, meant nothing at all. But Pyrrha … true dreams, it was said, lingered in the memory, while false ones faded away, and while that was obviously not completely true — Pyrrha could remember more than a few dreams that had been utter nonsense — nevertheless, she would have preferred to have forgotten this dream swiftly.

Instead, it stayed with her, and the cheering of the crowd still echoed in her ears.

The cheering of the crowd as she had offered up all her glories to the Fall Maiden.

Perhaps it meant only good things, perhaps it meant that she would win the tournament today, but that offering, the Fall Maiden … Cinder was the Fall Maiden — or had half the Fall Maiden’s power — and she was not dead yet, as far as Pyrrha knew. Perhaps … perhaps they would meet again, and Pyrrha would be alone this time, and Cinder would—

No. No, that was too much, that was far too much; Cinder was captured, Cinder had been beaten, Cinder had been beaten by her amongst others; to fear her now was ludicrous. Cinder had been defeated and could trouble them no more.

Speak only good things.

That worked out well, didn’t it?

There was a very loud, insistent knocking on the door.

“Hey, it’s me!” Yang called, her voice so loud that the door only slightly muffled it. “Open up!”

Penny was the closest to the door itself, and it was Penny who opened it, her tone bright as she said, “Good morning, Yang.”

“Okay,” Yang said, as she stood in the doorway wearing an orange tank top and black short shorts, “I have three— Penny?”

“Precisely.”

Yang blinked, her lips moving silently. “What are you doing here?”

Penny did not reply for a second, and when she did reply, it was to say, taking a step backwards, “Why don’t you come inside?”

Yang’s mouth opened, but no words emerged before she did as Penny suggested and walked into the dorm room, shutting the door behind her.

“Hey, Yang,” Ruby said. “What’s up?”

Now it was Yang’s turn not to respond as her eyes swept around the dorm room, passing over Pyrrha and everyone else. Silently, she stalked across the room to the bathroom door, flinging it open and looking inside.

Finding it empty, Yang turned around to face the occupants of the room.

“Okay,” she said again, “first of all— Dove? You too?”

Dove smiled sheepishly. “Morning, Yang.”

“If I get down on my knees, am I going to find Weiss under the bed?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Mmm,” Yang muttered. “And Blake’s not here either?”

“She spent the night with Team Rosepetal,” Penny explained.

“Of course she did,” Yang said. She took a breath. “Right, before you took the wind out of my sails a little bit, I had three questions, and that was one of them. I have two left.” She got out her scroll and opened it. Pyrrha was too far away to see what was on the scroll, except that she thought she could make out Lisa Lavender’s picture. “Have you guys seen this, is it true, and where’s Sunset?”

“That’s three questions,” Penny pointed out.

Yang’s eyes narrowed a little. “Nobody likes a smartass, Penny.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha began. “Sunset is…”

“Sunset,” Jaune said, “is on a—”

“Sunset’s gone,” Ruby said. “I sent her away.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Well, we can tell Yang, right?” Ruby asked. “I mean, she already knows everything else; why shouldn’t tell her this too?”

“Thank you, Ruby,” Yang said. “About time,” she muttered, not quite under her breath enough that the others couldn’t hear it.

Ruby looked away.

Yang snapped her scroll shut. “I guess that answers my other questions,” she said quietly, as she put the scroll away. “It’s true, then? What they’re saying?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it is true, but you can’t tell anyone outside this room.”

Yang looked at her. “Because … because the First Councillor knew about it, and the old First Councillor as well?”

“And Ozpin too,” Jaune added.

Yang blinked twice. “Ozpin?” she squawked. “Oz-Ozpin knew about it?”

“Yeah,” Ruby growled. “He knew everything. Knew and did nothing.”

Yang’s mouth hung open for a few moments. “Gotta say, I was not expecting that.” She paused again. “Is it wrong of me that the thing I’m thinking the most right now is wondering where the hell he got off looking down on me for who I was and who my mom was, and all the while, he knew exactly what Sunset had done, and he didn’t give a damn?”

“Don’t you think there are bigger things to worry about?” asked Ruby. “Bigger things to be upset at Ozpin about?”

“Probably there are, but that’s the one that’s personal to me, so you’ll have to forgive me—”

“No,” Ruby snapped. “No, I don’t; why would you expect me to just forgive you for something like that? Personal isn’t the same as important; why is it so hard for everybody to get that?”

There was silence in the dorm room.

Yang turned her head slightly, so that she was looking at Ruby out of, if not the corners of her eyes, then something close to them. “Ruby?” she murmured. “Are you okay?”

Ruby exhaled out of her nostrils. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Yang said, with a slight chuckle. “Sure you are.” She scratched the back of her head with one hand. “So … you knew about this before this morning, right? Last night?”

“It emerged,” Pyrrha said quietly, “while we were at the police station, with Cinder.”

“Right,” Yang said. “Cinder. What happened with—?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Ruby said.

“Actually,” Pyrrha said, “it does. I know that we were too … I know that we didn’t talk about it last night because of … well, you know, but the fact is that we would have talked about it under different circumstances, and we should talk about it. Cinder had quite a lot to say, and while some of it was obvious nonsense, some of it … is less easily dismissed.”

“Pyrrha’s right,” Penny said. “We should hear what Cinder said, or at least we should hear the important parts. Yang—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Yang said. “We can get back to the other stuff later on. I’d like to hear what’s going on myself. Unless it’s too sensitive for my ears to handle.”

“Yang,” Ruby moaned.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re not in the mood, obviously,” Yang muttered. “Of course you aren’t.” She looked around the room, taking one of the seats beside the wall and pulling it out, sitting down on it backwards, legs spread out and arms resting on the back. “So, what did she say?”

Pyrrha walked forwards, away from the curtains and the window, closer to the centre of the room.

“She said,” she began, considering whether she ought to or needed to include any of the rubbish, and deciding that no, she didn’t, since it was clearly not true, since everyone who had heard it agreed that it wasn’t true, and if she spoke it aloud, then it might do what Cinder had presumably intended that it would and spread distrust. No, better to leave that out and focus only upon what might, at least, be true. “Now, please, bear in mind that there is no proof of this bar Cinder’s own word; take that for what it may be worth to you. But Cinder says that Professor Lionheart, of Haven Academy, has betrayed Professor Ozpin to Salem.”

“Who?” asked Dove. “Salem?”

Pyrrha realised with a little bit of a sinking feeling that Dove didn’t know about Salem because they hadn’t told him about her.

It’s so very hard to keep track.

“That’s Cinder’s boss,” Jaune said, coming to her rescue. “She’s … like a crime lord, or a terrorist, or … the point is that she’s got tentacles everywhere, and Cinder’s just one of her followers.”

“If a particularly important one,” Pyrrha added, in case it seemed like the capture of Cinder had meant nothing at all, since she was just a pawn who could be replaced on the board in an instant. “Although if Professor Lionheart has betrayed Professor Ozpin to Salem, he would also be an important asset for her.” She looked at Amber. “According to Cinder, Professor Lionheart’s treachery is how Cinder knew where to find you, Amber, or at least, that is how she knew that you were the Fall Maiden.”

“That explains that,” Jaune said. “But then, what about the other Maidens? Does Salem know who they are too? Are any of them safe?”

“I’m sure that Professor Ozpin will be moving them somewhere safer now that he knows that they are — or at least that they may be — at risk,” Pyrrha said. “The Spring Maiden is … missing, apparently.”

“'Missing'?” Amber repeated. “You mean they—?”

“No, not like that,” Pyrrha assured her. “It seems that the Spring Maiden found it all a little bit much, after a while. Too much. She ran away and disappeared. Neither Salem nor Professor Ozpin can find her, although Salem is certainly looking for her, and I must assume that Professor Ozpin is doing the same, to some extent. But Anima is a very large land, with a lot of sparsely populated space where one might go to ground.”

“So she got away,” Amber murmured. “She got away from him, and all of them.” She closed her eyes, and her free hand rose to her face, to the scars that criss-crossed that face like rivers cutting through the land.

“But what kind of life does she lead?” asked Pyrrha. “A very lonely one, I should imagine; for all your travails, I think you are the more fortunate.”

Amber glanced up at her, and then looked at Dove. Her scars, even without any makeup of any kind to hide them, seemed to soften as she smiled at him. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right, Pyrrha.”

“And do you believe that?” asked Jaune. “Not about Amber, I mean, about Professor Lionheart having betrayed Ozpin, betrayed Amber, betrayed … all of us.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Arslan told me something interesting, some time ago,” she said. “I confess I thought too little of it at the time, but … she told me that she had been at home in Mistral during the spring break, with her parents.”

Yang frowned. “I’m not getting the—”

“Professor Lionheart told us that we were the only ones who could hunt the Karkadann prowling around Mistral during that break, when we were there,” Ruby explained. “Because all the other huntsmen were busy, and all the students had gone away. There was only us, and Cinder. And Juturna’s friend Camilla, but I’m not sure she’s actually a huntress.”

“No, she isn’t,” Pyrrha agreed. “She is well respected by many, feared by the rest, but she has never set foot within a combat school or an academy. But the point is that—”

“That Arslan was there too,” Jaune said. “And, you know, come to think of it … most of the Haven students must come from Mistral, right, so a lot of them would have been at home, wouldn’t they?”

“I don’t know whether I would say 'most,'” Pyrrha replied. “Mistral controls a large territory, and many students, great and small, hail from settlements across Anima — I know that Medea comes from Colchis, Meleager from Calydon, Jason from Iolcos, and so on — but you are right, there must be more than just Arslan, and so—”

“Lionheart lied to us,” Ruby said.

“Or he just didn’t know,” Penny suggested.

“Isn’t it his job to know?” Ruby demanded. “And someone told Cinder who the Fall Maiden was, and if it wasn’t him, then who?”

“But why would Cinder tell the truth?” asked Yang. To Pyrrha, she said, “Why do you believe any of this? If you don’t believe some of it, why do you think that she’s telling the truth at all?”

“Because it makes some sense,” Pyrrha said. “As Ruby pointed out, he should have known, or at least it feels as if he should. To speak truly, the only reason I would prefer for this not to be true is that it would prove some of the worst people in Mistral right about him.”

Yang snorted. “Yeah, that’s annoying when it happens, but you have to admit that it does happen sometimes. So what’s happening about that?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Professor Ozpin … sent us to bed. He was going to consult with General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch—”

“And Uncle Qrow too,” Ruby added. “He was there, when Penny and I went to see him.”

“You went to see him?” asked Yang.

“Of course,” Ruby said. “I wanted to know why he’d allowed Sunset to stay in school, after what she had done.”

Yang looked from Ruby, to Pyrrha, and then back again. “I want to hear about that,” she said, “but first of all, let’s let Pyrrha finish. What else did Cinder have to say?”

“That there are, unfortunately, other agents of Salem present at Beacon,” Pyrrha said. “So we cannot relax our vigilance around Amber just yet.”

“Others?” Jaune asked. “There are more people that we didn’t know about. Even after Cinder got found out and had to run, there have been others just … sitting here?”

“Did she say who they were?” asked Ruby.

“She gave two names,” Pyrrha replied. “Whether they are the right two names, I do not know.”

“Who are they?”

Pyrrha licked her lips. “Tempest Shadow, the Atlas student … and Bon Bon.”

“'Bon Bon'?” Amber whispered. “Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon, those were the names she gave?”

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said. “Although it may be that she was just giving names to distract us from the real agents.”

“Is that…?” Dove paused for a moment. “Is that what you think?”

Pyrrha sighed. “I don’t know what to think, and neither…” She stopped herself before she could say ‘and neither did Sunset’; those would not be welcome words amongst this company. Instead, she said, “I don’t know what to think. Tempest Shadow is unknown to me. Do any of you know her?”

“Tempest,” Yang mused. “Tempest Shadow, she’s Team Tsunami, right? Blake went on a mission with her; why don’t you ask her if she noticed anything or sensed anything, if anything seemed off about her?”

Pyrrha nodded. “That is a good idea, we will do so; thank you Yang.”

Yang grinned. “I’ve got my moments.”

“But as for Bon Bon,” Pyrrha went on, “we’ve left her with Amber, she’s been around her; sometimes, she’s been around her when we haven’t, and Dove, she is your friend, isn’t she?”

Dove didn’t look at Pyrrha. He seemed strangely reluctant to meet her eyes. “She was my friend,” he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. “She and Lyra were a great comfort to me during this year, before … when I thought Amber was … you know, before Sunset—”

Ruby growled wordlessly.

“Just because you have fallen out of love with her doesn’t mean that I will forget everything that she has done for us,” Dove declared. “But Bon Bon was my friend, true.”

“'Was'?” Ruby asked. “Did something happen between you?”

“If what you’re saying is true—” Dove began.

“What Pyrrha’s saying is that she’s having a hard time believing it,” Jaune said. “Isn’t that right, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha nodded. “That was my meaning, yes.”

“And it’s clear that Bon Bon didn’t hurt Amber because, if she did, then Amber wouldn’t be here,” Penny said. “In fact, if I say that these agents of Salem here at Beacon haven’t done anything since Cinder left, would that be wrong? Anyone? Can anyone think of anything that would prove me wrong?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I can’t think of anything that they’ve done. But that doesn’t mean that they haven’t done anything, just that we don’t know about it. Did Cinder say what they’ve been doing?”

“She spoke of an imminent attack on Vale,” Pyrrha said.

“By the grimm?” Ruby asked.

“What grimm?” asked Yang.

“There are a lot of grimm massing around Vale,” Ruby told her.

“There are?” Yang cried. “Since when? And why haven’t the Atlesians done anything about them, isn’t that what they’re here for?”

“General Blackthorn has tied General Ironwood’s hands,” Jaune said. “We saw them face off about it last night.”

“But Councillor Emerald is going to summon all the huntsmen back to defend Vale, and after the Atlesians leave, they’re going to mount a big counterattack to drive the grimm back,” Ruby added. “And we can help!”

“After the Atlesians leave?” Yang asked. “Why not before?”

“Because of politics,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Oh, great, so we have to put up with a whole bunch of grimm camped outside our city because of nationalist dick swinging, awesome,” Yang growled. “You know, sometimes, I think the Last King of Vale should have just taken over the whole world. No more kingdoms, or just one kingdom, that didn’t have to worry about how it looked in the eyes of the other kingdoms, because they’d all be one big happy family. Brothers, instead of rivals.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons for doing otherwise,” Pyrrha said. “But, in any case, Cinder spoke also of a magical creature, a creature … from Sunset’s home of Equestria, something that has been causing, or at least stoking, the unrest in Vale, the ill-feeling towards the faunus and the Atlesians. She called it a Siren, and Sunset recognised the word.”

“A creature from Sunset’s home?” Ruby asked. “Messing with Vale using her … magic?”

“So Cinder said.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I wish we’d never heard of Equestria,” she muttered.

“Ruby!” Penny cried. “That’s … you don’t mean that.”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I don’t. We need to know so that we can fight monsters like the one that Cinder brought here to Vale.”

“Did Cinder say what she is?” asked Jaune. “I mean, what’s a Siren?”

“There are three of them,” Pyrrha said, recalling what Sunset had explained to her. “Although I think only one of them is in Vale at present. They use their voices to stir up negative emotions, strife and hatred; they feed upon such things, apparently. And then, having surfeited, their powers are increased and may control the minds or wills of others.”

“Yikes,” Jaune said. “They sound bad.”

“But do we have to hear them singing?” Ruby asked. “If we wore ear plugs, then maybe—”

“Do you have to do anything?” asked Yang. “What’s Professor Ozpin going to do about all this?”

“We don’t know,” Pyrrha said.

“Right, yeah, maybe you should have asked him that when you were up there asking him about Sunset,” Yang suggested.

“I didn’t know about any of this, we didn’t talk about it,” Ruby pointed out.

“Well maybe you should have,” said Yang. “Before you…” She paused and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. “But let’s put that on pause again; Pyrrha, was there anything else?”

Pyrrha considered. She had told them about the attack on Vale, about Tempest and Bon Bon, about Professor Lionheart … there was only the accusation of Amber’s own treachery, which she would not mention because it was pointless to bring up something so ridiculous, and everything that Cinder had had to say about her own past. Pyrrha would not call that pointless; it had made her rather … rather pitiable in Pyrrha’s eyes; someone who had been stripped so violently of all the comforts and advantages which they had once enjoyed and had thought to enjoy was, it might be argued, even worse placed than someone like Arslan, who had never enjoyed them to begin with and thus never had to learn to cope with the lack. And Arslan, at least, from what Pyrrha understood and knew of her, which admittedly was not a complete picture, had had loving parents, which Cinder had also felt the lack of eventually. She had been wounded, that was plain; Pyrrha could understand why she had come to hate the world.

It did not excuse her actions, but Pyrrha pitied her nonetheless.

“Cinder spoke of her own past,” Pyrrha said. “In fact, even more than giving us any warnings of the future, I think the account of her past was what she mainly desired to get across. She wanted to be remembered by someone. But I think you would probably rather discuss the events of last night than Cinder’s travails growing up.”

Yang nodded. “Unless there’s anything more important you need to share with the team.”

Pyrrha shook her head. “No, nothing more.”

“Right,” Yang murmured. “So…” She ran one hand through her luxuriously long blonde hair. “You were at the police station and … the news came on? With this?”

“That’s it, yeah,” Jaune said. “Pyrrha and Sunset were down with Professor Ozpin in the interrogation room when we noticed that this was on all the TVs: someone had gotten that deleted email from somewhere and passed it on.”

“First Councillor Emerald denied it,” Ruby said. “He said it was all nonsense, said that he’d never do something like that. He said the real scandal was how someone had gotten one of Skystar’s deleted emails in the first place. But I knew what Sunset had done. I knew that she would have done it.”

“Hmm,” Yang murmured. “I gotta say, that is kinda worrying, I thought that when you deleted stuff, it was gone. Not that I’ve got anything like that sitting around that I deleted, but … is it really that easy?” She shuddered. “But, anyway, go on.”

“That news was still playing when Sunset and I returned with Cinder and Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha took up the account. “Sunset said nothing, but Professor Ozpin spoke in Sunset’s defence—”

“That should have been a clue,” Ruby muttered.

“As did Cinder,” Pyrrha said. “With great eloquence, I must confess.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed. “Cinder? You…” She looked down at the floor, shuffling her feet awkwardly. “You don’t think … you don’t think—?”

“No,” Pyrrha said before she could say. “No, I do not think that, and I urge you not to finish suggesting it. Let the words lie while they still possess some comfortable element of ambiguity. What Sunset did, she did not do it because she is a servant of Salem, I will stake my life upon it.”

“I … agree,” Jaune said. “Sunset isn’t working against us. That’s … not the problem.”

“They’re right,” said Ruby, more softly. “Pyrrha’s right, although I wouldn’t say it in quite the way she did. But that’s not something we have to worry about.”

“Sunset is not our enemy,” Amber said. “She is not my enemy.”

“It seems like we can all agree on that,” said Penny. “Even if we can’t agree on a lot of other things.”

“Good,” Yang said softly. “That’s good. I didn’t really … she never seemed the type, but with everything … I just wanted to make sure.” She sighed. “So then why did Cinder defend her?”

“Honestly? Vanity, I think,” Pyrrha said. “She didn’t want to share the spotlight with Sunset. This was supposed to be her moment.”

Yang frowned. “Her moment … of being captured?”

“She would at least get to dominate the news,” Pyrrha explained. “Councillor Emerald was certainly hoping that she would dominate the news when he arrived at the police station: the menace of the year captured and soon to be brought to justice. And since Cinder could not achieve anything that she had set out to achieve, I think she was hoping for that moment of fame as … a last resort?”

The frown remained upon Yang’s face. “I’ve got to be honest, that sounds really weird.”

“I don’t claim that it makes perfect sense, only that I think it was Cinder’s thought,” Pyrrha said. “It formed part of the tenor of her speech, along with pointing out that the accusations against Sunset were very similar to the ones recently made against me. A point I must confess I found convincing.”

“I can see it,” Yang admitted. “So Professor Ozpin, Councillor Emerald … Cinder, they all spoke up for Sunset, and then…”

“Valish soldiers took Cinder away to be detained until her trial,” Jaune said.

“Soldiers!” Pyrrha gasped. “That was the last thing that Cinder said, that the Siren’s song had gone so far as to affect soldiers of the Valish Defence Forces!”

Yang’s eyebrows rose. “And you forgot that?”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “But it was a very long and busy night.”

“I guess it was,” Yang said. “And you don’t know what’s being done about that either?”

“I don’t think Councillor Emerald trusts General Blackthorn,” Ruby said. “He seemed pretty upset when he found out that the general wasn’t doing anything about the grimm outside the walls.”

“Makes sense,” Yang said. “I’m not too happy about that myself.”

“And then Professor Ozpin suggested using the police to defend power and stuff like that,” Ruby went on. “In case someone tries to sabotage it. And I think that’s going to happen.”

“'Sabotage'?” Yang asked.

“Maybe that’s what the Siren plans to get people to do?” suggested Jaune.

“Yikes,” Yang muttered. “You are not making this a very happy morning, guys, I’ve gotta say.”

“It wasn’t a very pleasant night for us, either,” Penny pointed out.

Yang winced. “No, no, I guess it wasn’t. But, going back to that night, even if it wasn’t very nice for you, what happened?”

“We came back to Beacon, and Professor Ozpin told us to get some rest, while he and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch went to make plans, like we said,” Ruby said. “But we didn’t go to bed.”

“Obviously not,” said Yang.

“Instead,” Ruby went on, “we all gathered here—”

“'All'?” asked Yang.

“Everyone here,” Ruby said, “and Blake, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight.”

“Right,” Yang said. “Of course.”

“And when I confronted Sunset about what she’d done,” Ruby said. “She … admitted it.”

“She admitted it?” Yang repeated. “She confessed?”

“She said that it was fear for our lives that motivated her,” Pyrrha said softly.

“She told us that Cinder had left her the trigger to blow the mine in the cab of the train,” Jaune explained. “She arrived before any of us, and it seemed — Cinder made it seem — like if she didn’t blow the mine, and blow the Breach, then we’d all die down there in that tunnel.”

Yang was very still, practically frozen, her body rigid, her arms trapped despite the somewhat awkwardness of the angle at which they were trapped, held up in their gesture of surprise from the fact that Sunset had confessed at all.

Her mouth barely seemed to move at all, and her voice, trembling, was quiet. “She did it to save you.”

“She did it because she doesn’t care about other people,” Ruby declared. “She did it because she doesn’t care about Vale, or about the values of a huntress. She just cares about—”

“About you,” Yang said. “About whether you live or die.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Ruby insisted. “That doesn’t make it any less evil.”

“'Evil'?” Yang repeated. “Evil, that …” She paused. “How… how are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Ruby muttered.

Yang took a step towards her, and then another. “Ruby—”

“I said I’m fine!” Ruby snapped. She closed her eyes. “I … I don’t need … I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t about me, and I don’t need a hug or a coddle or anything else, so can we please, please just carry on?”

“Sure,” Yang said, the softness of her tone belied somewhat by the way in which she raised her hands pacifically. “Sure, I didn’t mean to … okay, we can get on.” She glanced around the room. “How did you all take it?”

“Ruby was very—” Amber began, but then stopped, glancing at Ruby.

“I did what had to be done,” Ruby said firmly. “There was no alternative.”

“I was angry,” Jaune said. “One of my friends was cut up in all of that, one of her friends was one of those who died, and … it was because of her. I can’t say for certain that I would have had the strength to do the right thing, but it’s like Ruby said, that doesn’t make it any less … to hear her admit it was … it made me angry.”

Yang gave a slight, barely perceptible nod of her head. Her gaze fell upon Pyrrha, as Pyrrha had known that it must even as she had hoped that it might not.

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha swallowed. “I … am sad to see her go. She was a great friend to me, for all her faults.”

“But she went,” Yang said. “You sent her away?”

“How could she stay in this school after what she did?” Ruby demanded, looking at Yang once more. “How could Professor Ozpin let her stay in this school?”

Yang didn’t answer that. Instead, she said, “So Sunset left? Do you know where she went?”

“She went to see Skystar Aris, at the latter’s request,” Pyrrha said. “That was where she was bound when I left her. But where she went after that, I do not know.”

“And you went to see Professor Ozpin?” Yang asked. “What did he say?”

“That Sunset … that he needs Sunset,” Ruby said. “That sometimes, we have to work with people who aren’t the best, who aren’t heroes, who might have done things that we don’t like. That he knows best and knows what he’s doing. Uncle Qrow agreed with him.”

“Maybe they’re right,” Yang said. “They’ve been doing this for a while, seems like.”

“That doesn’t mean that she has to stay at this school,” Ruby said. “Just because Sunset might have some use to Ozpin doesn’t mean that she needs to be here!”

“No,” said Yang. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“And he…” Penny cleared her throat. “He also made me team leader.”

Yang turned to look at her. “You?” she said. “I mean … you! You, that’s … but you’re an Atlas student.”

“I’m transferring to Beacon next year,” Penny pointed out. “So why shouldn’t I transfer early?”

“Like Blake has, spending the night with Team Rosepetal,” Yang muttered. “Still, at least you’re amongst friends, and at least Team … what are you—?”

“I decided not to change the team name,” Penny said. “Not yet, anyway. It felt disrespectful, and besides, we don’t actually want people to know that Sunset’s gone.”

“Right,” Yang said, with obvious scepticism in her voice. “Well, I’m glad that this team has a leader who knows the people in it, but … so, to be clear, you kicked Sunset out because what she did was so awful that you couldn’t stand to be around her, but at the same time, you don’t want anyone to know that Sunset actually did it, and you’re going to stand by what Councillor Emerald said that this is all just a load of garbage?”

“We don’t want to cause a panic,” Jaune said. “Or cause another First Councillor to have to quit.”

“Three in one year would be a lot,” Ruby said. “People would get worried, and with there already being a lot of grimm outside, we don’t want to—”

“And a magical creature stirring the pot, apparently,” Yang said. “I get all that, but … you don’t see a contradiction here, or any problems at all with this scenario? I mean … are you going to tell everybody that Sunset ran away because she wasn’t guilty?”

“We talked about that last night,” Penny explained. “We’re going to tell everyone that Sunset is away on a mission.”

“A mission that she so conveniently got sent on, alone, while her teammate is fighting in the one-on-one round of the Vytal Tournament, while Vale is being half encircled by grimm by the sounds of it, just as she by complete coincidence happens to get accused of a crime,” Yang said. “Uh huh, sure, I’ll buy that; I’m sure everyone else will too. Have you spoken to Sunset about this?”

“No,” Pyrrha confessed. “She had already departed by the time that we discussed the matter.”

“Then you’re going to have to call her,” said Yang.

“What?” Ruby cried. “No!”

“Yes!” Yang insisted. “What do you think it’s going to look like if you tell everyone that Sunset has left on a mission, while Sunset herself is bumming around Vale because she hasn’t got anywhere to go because the city is being surrounded by grimm? Where is Sunset gonna go, anyway?”

“Back where she came from, maybe,”

“I … I suggested that she might speak to my mother,” Pyrrha said, very quietly; she would have rather not said anything at all, but silence would have been rather cowardly, especially in the face of Yang’s direct questioning. “I thought that perhaps Mother might find her a position, if not in her household, then in Mistral, at least.”

“Your mother?” Ruby repeated. “Your … after what she did—”

“I rather fear that what Sunset has done will burnish her up in my mother’s esteem,” Pyrrha said. “You could pile Vale upon Vale until the mass of cities overshadowed the mountains, and it would not equal up the worth of my life in my mother’s eyes. It is … unfortunate, but—”

“But it’s Mistral,” Jaune said. “To be fair, I’m sure that there are some people out there for whom a lot of Valish would see Mistral get overrun for.”

Ruby looked at Pyrrha for a second. Then she snorted. “Sounds like they’re a perfect match, then,” she said. “If that’s where Sunset decides to go, then I hope she’s happy there, but I won’t be able to stay in the same house as her if we ever visit Mistral again.”

“Fortunately, Mistral is not short of hotels, provided you book ahead,” said Pyrrha.

“To get back to the point,” said Yang, “you need to talk to Sunset to make sure that you’re all on the same page, story wise, or else you’re all going to look like liars, and bad liars at that, and that won’t help anyone.”

Ruby’s jaw clenched. “Fine,” she muttered. “Pyrrha—”

“I’ll call Sunset,” Penny declared. “Since I’m the team leader, I should be the one to do it.”

Because you’re the team leader, or because you didn’t get to say goodbye? Pyrrha thought. Not that she begrudged Penny the decision; as team leader, it was her right to make such decisions, after all, and so long as the good of the team was not affected — and Pyrrha had no reason to believe that it would be, in this case — then there was nothing saying a team leader had to be completely selfless.

She wished Penny joy of the conversation, although how pleased Sunset would be to be called up so that they could discuss how to manage her banishment was not something Pyrrha would speculate on with any confidence.

She took her departure in good part, I suppose.

But that is no guarantee that such a mood has lasted.

On the other hand, if there is anyone with whom Sunset will find it difficult to be bitter towards, it’s Penny.

“We should talk to Ozpin too,” Yang said. “Find out what he’s going to do about … all of this other stuff.” She sighed as she folded her arms. “I don’t know about you, Pyrrha, but this is kind of denting my enthusiasm for today’s matches.”

Pyrrha let out a soft chuckle from her lips as she retreated towards the window and sat down on the seat there. “Indeed,” she murmured. “It all seems … rather unimportant, doesn’t it? Assuming that the matches even go ahead, with the danger from the grimm—”

“If they were going to be cancelled, they would have been cancelled already, wouldn’t they?” asked Jaune.

“You may be right,” Pyrrha said. “Something else that Professor Ozpin might tell us. Shall we … shall we get dressed and go and see him?”

“Or we could call him,” Penny suggested. “That way, we wouldn’t have to wait until everyone was ready, and we wouldn’t have to worry about people seeing us on the way. Sometimes, it’s better not to be noticed.”

Penny spoke wisely; in light of what had just come out — or rather, what had been suggested, since the truth was something that they were hoping would not come out — then any eyes that were abroad this morning would doubtless be drawn to them even more than the tournament warranted, and she was not at all sure they wanted the attention.

“Will he be awake at this hour?” she asked.

“Does he ever sleep?” asked Jaune.

“He must do so,” said Dove. “Sometimes.”

“If we call him, the worst that can happen is that he doesn’t pick up,” Ruby pointed out.

“That’s true,” Penny acknowledged. “Alright then, I’ll call him.”

Penny, who alone of everyone in the room was completely dressed, got out her scroll. In fact, she had gotten so far as opening it up before she stopped and said, "I don't have his number."

"Here, Penny, I've got it," said Ruby, picking up her own scroll from where it sat on the pile of books next to the silver rose. "I'll send it to you."

Ruby opened up her scroll, and there was a momentary pause while her fingers worked across the screen before Penny's device gave off a little buzz for a message received.

"Thank you!" Penny said brightly. "Now I can call him.”

Now it was the turn of her fingers to skip lightly across the screen before she held out the scroll, flat on the palm of her hand, away from her as though it smelled, or carried a disease she feared to catch.

There was a pause. Pyrrha got up from the window seat and moved closer to Penny and her scroll; Jaune and Ruby likewise moved. Amber and Dove did not move, and Yang had no need to.

The pause ended, the quiet broken by Professor Ozpin's voice entering into the room. "Miss Polendina, good morning."

"Good morning, Professor!" Penny cried in an effervescent tone. "I'm sorry to bother you so early—"

"Not at all, Miss Polendina, not at all," Professor Ozpin assures her. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here with T—… with my entire team," Penny said, letting out a little giggle of excitement that no one could begrudge her, "as well as Amber, Dove, and Yang. Pyrrha just finished telling us everything that Cinder said last night."

"'Everything,' Miss Nikos?" Professor Ozpin asked, in a tone so pointed that Pyrrha could see him staring at her over his spectacles in her mind's eye.

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha said, raising her voice a little so that he could hear her. "All the relevant information."

Professor Ozpin took a moment to say, "I see. Thank you, Miss Nikos."

"We were wondering," Penny said, "if there was anything you wanted us to do about any of the things Pyrrha mentioned."

"Or if you had any plans to deal with them," Yang added.

"Indeed, Miss Xiao Long, I have not been sitting idle," Professor Ozpin replied, with no sign that the question irked him. "General Ironwood's forces will be on standby to resist an assault by the grimm mustering around our walls, and prepared for any … difficulties with the Valish Defence Forces. General Ironwood will also be taking steps to monitor his accused student, Miss Shadow."

"And … Bon Bon?" Amber asked, her voice trembling somewhat. "What about Bon Bon?"

Professor Ozpin did not offer an immediate response. "It is … difficult to credit Miss Fall's accusation, but nevertheless, I would appreciate it if you would keep Amber out of Miss Bonaventure's way. I'm sorry, Mister Bronzewing, I know she is your friend, but we must err on the side of caution."

"I understand," Dove said. "And it's alright. When it comes to Amber's safety, we don't want to take any risks."

"Quite so, Mister Bronzewing," Professor Ozpin said approvingly. "Now, I had intended to ask Team Sapphire to hunt down the Siren that Miss Fall claims is responsible for so much discord on the streets, but without Miss Shimmer—"

"We can do it, Professor," Ruby insisted. "We don't need Sunset to be a good team, or for you to rely on us."

Professor Ozpin took a moment to reply. "The Siren is a creature of Equestrian magic, Miss Rose, and I had thought to counter it with magic of the same origin. There was no other judgement implied."

"Then let us help anyway," Ruby insisted. "Let us take care of it for you. Let us prove to you that even without Sunset we're still as good a team and as worthy of your trust as we were when … when you sent us into Mountain Glenn."

Pyrrha wondered if she was the only one thinking that it might have been better if Professor Ozpin had not sent them there.

“I … will consider it, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said, in an even tone. “For now, Miss Nikos and Miss Xiao Long must both look to the tournament.”

“Really?” Ruby said. “Really, Professor, when Vale—?”

“Yes, really, Miss Rose,” Professor Ozpin said, cutting her off before she could finish. “If the tournament is cancelled, or even postponed, due to the grimm threat, then more people will learn about the grimm threat, and that … will only make things worse, not better.”

“Bread and circuses, Professor?” Pyrrha asked.

“Most people in the fairgrounds seem to prefer popcorn or cotton candy, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin replied dryly. “But … yes, you are correct. Whatever its other qualities — and it has many — the tournament is, at this point, also an exercise in managing the mood of the city of Vale; in this febrile atmosphere, despite the possible presence of this Siren, the tournament has nevertheless … I would like to say that it has reminded the people of Vale, and all our guests, that there is more that unites than divides us. With this unfortunate business surrounding Miss Schnee, I fear that it would be a lie to say so, but nevertheless, if it has not healed all the wounds of Remnant, it has, I daresay, spread good cheer and glad hearts throughout Vale and the wider world. And in these perilous times, as the era of peace we have long enjoyed is threatened from without, as shadows grow long across the green, that is not nothing.”

“I guess not … when you put it like that, anyway,” Yang muttered. “But all the same—”

“It seems a trivial thing to fight for the entertainment of the crowds when there may be real battles to be fought soon enough?” Professor Ozpin asked. “Is that not always true, Miss Xiao Long? Is that not the very paradox of this entire spectacle?”

“Thanks for pointing that out, Professor,” Yang said. “But it’s more than that now, because it’s … at least, normally, it’s not all happening in the same day! Or even so soon after.”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “You are not wrong, Miss Xiao Long, but, if I may, why did you want to fight in the tournament in the first place?”

Yang shrugged, for all that Professor Ozpin couldn’t see it. “For the fun of it,” she said. “For the test too — I wanted to see how far I could go against the best — but … mostly for the fun of it.”

“And is the possibility of real danger, of real risk, not reason enough to have fun while you can?” Professor Ozpin asked. “To revel in the joy of a battle without consequence, with only pride at stake?”

Pyrrha could not help but chuckle. “Some would dispute that a battle with pride or honour at stake is without consequence, Professor.”

“No doubt, Miss Nikos, please forgive me,” Professor Ozpin said. “But my point remains: it is true that the grimm may attack soon, it is true that you may be asked to fight a fight more real than any that you will find in the Amity Colosseum, but that, it seems to me at least, is all the more reason to enjoy yourselves while you may.

“Miss Shimmer erred out of a fear of death. I do not judge her too harshly for that, for death is something greatly to be feared, but it should also be a reminder to savour the sweetness of life while the chance remains.

“And, if that is not enough to move you, then please remember that in keeping the people happy and content, in distracting from the shadows even as they lengthen beyond the walls, you are doing as good service as any you might render on the battlefield.

“So please, Miss Xiao Long, Miss Nikos, fight hard, fight for Beacon … and, in spite of everything that’s happened, please, try and enjoy yourselves.”

Author's Note

The next chapter will be up on Saturday, rather than Friday as normal; this is because (spoilers) it's a chapter where Sunset writes to Twilight in the journal, and it's easier for me to do the awkward formatting for that on Saturday when I have more time.

Press Conference (New)

Press Conference

“What’s that?” Skystar asked as she got out of bed, stretching her arms above her head.

“This?” Sunset asked, looking down at the magical journal resting on her legs. “It’s a journal.”

“And you’re going to write about what happened yesterday?” Skystar asked, looking down at Sunset.

“I don’t…” Sunset trailed off from saying that she didn’t have much choice, because that was a bit of a nonsense; the only person who could make her was herself, after all. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m going to write about what happened last night.”

“Write about yesterday,” Skystar said. “I mean … if it was me, and if I kept a journal — which I don’t, I have to tell you — then I would not want to write about what happened last night.”

“I can understand why,” Sunset admitted. “But, at the same time, I think … I think it’s nights like last night that we have to write about, even if we don’t want to.”

“It’s your journal, I suppose,” Skystar murmured. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Okay,” Sunset said quietly.

“That’s what people say when they don’t want to give a real answer,” Skystar pointed out.

“I don’t know about that, sometimes things are just … okay,” Sunset replied. “But, I will tell you, that if I didn’t sleep well last night, it was nothing to do with the comfort or otherwise of the sleeping arrangements. You did very well, especially considering … this wasn’t something that you’d planned on.” Yes, she’d slept on the floor, but she had also slept on a groundsheet, in a sleeping bag, and Skystar had even given up one of her pillows for Sunset and found a slightly frayed sea-green poncho to serve as a blanket for her. It was more than Sunset could have asked for, in the circumstances; certainly, it was more than she’d had a right to expect. “With everything that happened, I wouldn’t have slept very well in the most comfortable bed in the most luxurious hotel in Vale.”

“I know what you mean; I didn’t sleep too well either,” Skystar admitted.

“I know; I could hear you rolling over and over,” Sunset said.

“My ears got really hot against the pillow,” Skystar said defensively. “I just … I couldn’t stop thinking about stuff. And I’ve got less to think about than you.” She frowned. “Are you sure that this idea of yours is going to work?”

“Honestly? No,” Sunset said. “No, I’m not certain. But I don’t have a better idea and … we don’t have an unlimited amount of time; if we don’t come up with an explanation soon — like, right now — then it’s going to look—”

“Like I was telling the truth the first time,” Skystar murmured.

“If that’s the only explanation on offer, then … yeah, I’m afraid so,” Sunset said. “People will think that, if there’s a good explanation—”

“Why haven’t we brought it up,” Skystar said.

“Exactly,” Sunset sighed. “But, since we haven’t said anything yet, there’s still time to come up with a new idea, an idea that might… might make you seem…” She squirmed where she sat on the blue sleeping bag. “Might make you seem a little less—”

“Deranged?” Skystar asked.

“I was going to suggest ‘petty,’” Sunset said.

“I think your idea goes a teensy little bit beyond pettiness,” Skystar said.

Sunset wobbled her head from side to side a little bit. “Maybe,” she conceded. “As I say, if you have another idea—”

“If I had another idea, I wouldn’t be considering yours, I’ve got to say,” Skystar told her. “But I don’t, and I … I mean, how many reasons are there to falsely accuse your mom of covering up something like this — or of somebody doing it.” She sighed. “I was never going to get out of this without seeming a little … something. It’s my fault—”

“None of this is your fault,” Sunset assured her.

Skystar shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We just … have to live with it. I’ll survive. I’ll survive better than Mom or Aspen will with people believing that they did … that.” She paused. “Can I ask you something?”

“I think you’ve earned the right to ask me just about anything,” Sunset replied.

“Are you honest, in there, that journal?” Skystar asked. “Are you honest with yourself?”

“I … not always,” Sunset admitted. “But I try to be. And I think that I get better at it as I go through the pages.” That might be the story of my life. I’ve gotten better as I go along, just not quite quick enough. “Why do you ask?”

“Just … curious, I guess,” Skystar admitted. “No real reason, just … curious.”

There was a knock at the door. “Can I come in?” asked Former Councillor Aris from the other side.

“Sure, Mom,” Skystar said.

The door opened, at least enough to admit the head and shoulders of Former Councillor Aris. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Mom,” Skystar said. She smiled. “How’s Aspen?”

“He slept on the couch,” Former Councillor Aris insisted. “How was your night?”

“Thoughtful,” Skystar said. “But not in a good way.”

Former Councillor Aris pursed her lips together. “I see. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“But it would have been weird otherwise,” Skystar said. “Right?”

The Former Councillor didn’t respond to that; she just said, “Are you still going to go through with this?”

“Do we have any other ideas?” Skystar asked.

“No,” Former Councillor Aris conceded, “but—”

“Then we don’t have any other options,” Skystar said. “Do we?”

Former Councillor Aris was quiet for a moment, before she murmured, “I suppose not. Aspen is already arranging the press conference, if you’re both ready.”

“I’m not ready ready,” Skystar said. “But … I’d kind of like to get it over with.”

Former Councillor Aris nodded, before she glanced around the door. “Miss Shimmer?”

“I am … more or less prepared, ma’am,” Sunset said softly. “I am sorry that I couldn’t come up with a better idea—”

“But then, neither could the rest of us, so it’s all a bit of a wash,” said Former Councillor Aris. “It isn’t ideal, but in the absence of anything better, it will have to do. It may even work; at least it doesn’t spring out of nowhere as a story. Are you coming down for breakfast? I was going to make waffles.”

“Oh, you know I’m not going to miss that,” Skystar said.

Former Councillor Aris smiled. “I thought that it was the least you deserved.”

Skystar grinned. “Thanks, Mom. Sunset?”

“Um, no,” Sunset said. “No, thank you, ma’am; I’m sure it will be delicious, but I have some things to take care of up here.”

“I could bring you something up?” Skystar said. “Would you like some juice?”

Sunset looked at her. “In the circumstances, there is something very wrong about the idea of you waiting on me.”

“What else are you going to do for breakfast?” Skystar asked. “Run out to Snow Burger?”

“This seems like too nice a neighbourhood to have a Snow Burger nearby,” Sunset observed.

“It is,” Skystar said. “That’s part of your problem.”

Sunset paused for a moment. “What kind of juice do you have?”

“Apple or grapefruit?”

“Grapefruit, please,” Sunset murmured.

“Coming up,” Skystar said, with more good cheer in her voice than the situation really warranted, as she and her mother both left the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Sunset was left alone, with her journal.

She opened up the book to the first blank page. The number of blank pages remaining — or the lack thereof — was becoming a little concerning, but at the same time, if there was ever a situation worth writing to Twilight about, then this was surely it.

And besides, it occurred to Sunset that, right now, she was far freer to simply pop back to Canterlot and pick up a new journal — plus, perhaps, a journal for Professor Ozpin as well — than she had been before.

Every cloud and all that.

Sunset got out her pen, started to write.

Twilight, are you there? Is this a good time?

There was only a slight pause before letters written in Twilight’s elegant handwriting began to appear on the page.

Hey, Sunset. It feels as though I haven’t heard from you in a while.

That’s probably because you haven’t.

Yes, I know, I was being polite.

And I appreciate that, but in the circumstances, I might as well be honest.

Well, you’re writing now, so I know that you aren’t dead. Shall I have Spike send a letter to Princess Celestia?

No. Sunset had to resist the urge to put an exclamation mark at the end of that word. No. Don’t do that. I just want to talk to you right now, if that’s alright.

Of course. What’s up?

How are things with you on this fine morning? Is it a fine morning? What’s the weather like in Equestria? What kind of day do the pegasi have planned for you?

Sunshine with a few clouds, why?

Because I’m curious to know. You know, I don’t think you really appreciate what a boon it is being able to control the weather until you get to a world where it’s all random.

Sunset, are you okay?

Honestly? No. Not really. But I don’t want to talk about it yet. I really, really do want to hear about you. I should tell you this more than I do, but honestly? Your life sounds pretty cool when you tell me about it. So cool that I envy you for it much more than I used to envy you for being a princess, albeit hopefully in a way that the envy doesn’t turn me sour.

There was a pause, nothing written in the book, for a second or two.

Are you sure that you don’t want me to send a message to Princess Celestia?

I’m positive. I have a good reason for it, trust me.

Okay then. If you really want to hear about my life, well There was another pause, and Sunset could sort of imagine Twilight — well, to an extent; she knew Twilight’s colouring, so she could construct a vague mental image of what a lavender alicorn might look like, with more or less the same manestyle as Remnant’s Twilight Sparkle, even though they’d never met — pondering her words.

things have been going pretty well with Starlight Glimmer, my new apprentice, albeit we have had a few teething troubles. I have to admit that I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory recently.

What happened?

I set Starlight the task of making a friend, by herself, without me introducing them or facilitating it in any way, but then, having set that challenge, I didn’t like her choice, and I wasn’t shy about admitting it.

Sunset frowned. Could it be…? Was it Sunburst Flare, Tempest Shadow, or Trixie Lulamoon?

Actually, Sunburst and Starlight are childhood friends, and I’ll tell you about that in a little bit, and neither of us knows a Tempest Shadow, but it was Trixie, yes.

I can’t say I’m surprised. The two of them are tight in our world. But why did you have a problem with it? Trixie’s great.

Trixie in your world might be great, but in my world, she’s vain, boastful

She’s those things in my world too; it’s part of her charm.

I sometimes think that you and I have very different definitions of what a charming characteristic is. Although I doubt even you would find it very charming if Trixie in all her vainglory took over Beacon and exiled you from it.

Well, that would depend on what I did to get myself exiled, wouldn’t it? Sunset: 'Exiled'?

That was a while ago, I have to admit, before I became a princess. And I probably shouldn’t still be hung upon it, and in fact, I’ll tell you that I’m not hung up about it — it’s not like I hold a grudge or anything — I just

What happened?

Trixie — who is the one who actually held a grudge against me, not the other way around — got hold of a dark magical artefact called the Alicorn Amulet and used it to boost her magical powers until she could beat me in a magic duel, and as the price of my defeat, I had to leave Ponyville.

Well, obviously that didn’t take. What did you do?

I tricked her into taking the amulet off.

Very clever, but how did you do that, if it was the source of her power?

I convinced her that I had another, even more powerful amulet that I was willing to give her. A trick, as I said.

And as I said, very clever. So then what happened? What did she do?

She left. I don’t know where she went; I didn’t see her again for quite some time until she showed up with Starlight, the friend that I’d asked her to make. And very smug she was about it as well.

Based on my experience, Trixie is a better person than first impressions, or even second impressions, might suggest.

I did think about that. I thought about what you’d told me about your Trixie, and I considered that maybe I’d been too harsh on my Trixie, and maybe, since your Trixie had it in her to become a hero, someone who helps and protects those in need, that maybe my Trixie also had admirable and sterling qualities hidden — very well hidden — somewhere deep inside.

Then I decided that it didn’t matter what another person who just happens to be called Trixie Lulamoon was like; I knew the Trixie standing in front of me, and she was bad news. And I told Starlight so.

You’ll forgive me for saying so, but that doesn’t sound like your greatest moment.

No, it wasn’t. Starlight didn’t take it very well. And it doesn’t give me any comfort to tell you that I was momentarily correct: Trixie was just trying to make me jealous. Or at least, she was trying to make me jealous — to beat me, in her words — by having Starlight choose her over me.

I have to say, that doesn’t sound at all like the Trixie I know.

Different worlds, different circumstances, is it really any surprise that we’re not exactly the same as our alternate selves? If we were, if there were no differences whatsoever between us, that would essentially say that there was no free will at all, and we were just following pre-ordained paths, playing roles that had been set down for us generations ago by someone who came before us. It would be terrible.

Yes, I suppose you’ve got a point there, but all the same, that’s really not something I could imagine my Trixie ever doing to Starlight.

If it helps, she regretted it almost immediately.

Did that help her? Or Starlight?

Seeing as how they made up, I’d say it did, yes.

And you?

And I what?

Did you make up with Trixie in the end?

Oh, absolutely not, I still can’t stand her.

Sunset snorted. I’m sniggering at you right now, just so you know.

And I might deserve it, but I just can’t get on with her. Something about her manner just rubs me up the wrong way. You might find it charming, but that doesn’t mean I have to be enthralled by someone who refers to themselves in the third person and rolls their r’s far, far more than is necessary.

You don’t like the trrrrrrilling sound of the grrrrreat and

Please don’t.

Alright, I won’t. Still, although you talked about this like a mistake, it sounds like a situation where all’s well that more or less ends well. I’d take that, if I were you.

Oh, I’m not broken-hearted about it, don’t get me wrong. I might mutter under my breath about Trixie every now and then, but the main thing that I take from this is that, even though I’m the teacher and Starlight is the student, that doesn’t mean that I don’t sometimes have things to learn too.

Sunset smiled. You know, I can imagine Princess Celestia saying that.

Really?

Yeah. You can’t?

Princess Celestia doesn’t have anything to learn at her age, as experienced as she is, and as wise.

Absolutely true, but she’s also very humble.

That is also true. So if you meant that she might say it, not that it would necessarily be correct, then, yes, I could agree with that. What about your Professor Ozpin?

Sunset thought about that for a second. Hopefully, it will make sense when I say that I can’t hear it in his voice in my head the way I can with Princess Celestia, but at the same time, Professor Ozpin being quite humble himself, I can imagine that he might say it, but it’s a bit more abstract with him. Do you understand what I’m saying?

I think I do; you’re saying that you still don’t know him as well as you know Princess Celestia.

True. Although, of course, that also leaves me room to have misjudged the man. I think Pyrrha and Jaune would say that I have.

If Jaune were speaking to me, that is. Sunset didn’t want to talk about that just yet.

But Princess Celestia would say that I have his measure, or at least a better measure of him than I had before, when I was the one who didn’t trust him. So, anyway, anything else new with you?

Why do I suspect that you’ve got something to say but you’re stalling on saying it?

Sunset: Whatever would make you think that?

The fact that you’re clearly stalling on saying something. Why are you changing the subject?

Because I really want to know about your life! She paused for a second, her chest rising and falling with her breath.

A frown creased her brow. Yes, you’re right, I do have something that I need to talk about. And yes, you’re right, I don’t want to talk about it. But I am curious as to what’s up, and I really do like hearing about Equestria — a land that is at peace, a land that isn’t under threat, a land that is so, so much happier than this one is. So please, Twilight, sweep me away with a tale of Equestria. Keep me distracted just a little while longer.

There was a slight pause on the other end. And this thing you don’t want to talk about is the reason you don’t want me to get Princess Celestia?

Twilight.

Okay, I will give you a little time if that’s what you want. If you are looking for some happy news, I became an aunt not too long ago.

Really? Congratulations! Not that you really did anything to be congratulated for.

Not that I did anything? I will have you know — not that I don't understand what you mean, but — I played a crucial role in little Flurry Heart's Crystalling.

Ah, yes, the Crystalling. That is

She had to stop writing while she wracked her brain to try and remember what in Equestria a Crystalling was. Crystalling evoked Crystal Empire, and Twilight said that the lost Crystal Empire had returned, and Princess Cadance now ruled the Crystal Empire under Princess Celestia, and Cadance was married to Twilight's brother, so of course their child would have a Crystalling.

Whatever that was.

It's fine to admit you don't know.

I know what a Crystalling is, it's where

She had to pause again, for a little more thought to get her over the line.

It's where the filly or colt is presented to the Crystal Heart

They're presented to the ponies of the Empire, and the love felt for the child empowers the Crystal Heart, making it even stronger than before.

And with each successive generation, love compounding upon love, the magic of the Crystal Heart will only grow. No wonder King Sombra wanted it so badly; it must already be the most powerful magical artefact in Equestria.

Powerful, but fragile, as we found out during the preparations for Flurry's Crystalling.

It wasn't all joy and happiness? You weren't attacked by another villain, were you?

No, no, that hasn't been a problem for a while. I think Tirek was the last time someone truly evil troubled Equestria; Starlight was just hurting and misguided, after all. But no, that wasn't the issue; nobody tried to disrupt Flurry Heart's Crystalling except Flurry herself.

Sunset frowned. She's a little filly; she is a filly, right?

Right.

So what's she going to do?

Well, you know how infant unicorns have quite strong, untamed magic before it settles down after a few months, reaching an equilibrium?

Yes, Clover called it a magical incarnation of the vigour of youth, or even of the concept of youthful vigour. Fillies and colts have a lot of energy for magic in the same way they have a lot of energy for crawling around. On the other hand, or hoof, Buttercup believed it was a representation of youthful possibility and promise.

I've never really bought into that. If it were so, wouldn't it last until you got your cutie mark?

That would suggest that cutie mark's imply a loss of potential.

That isn't what I meant, but never mind. The point is that thus is a well-documented fact, for whatever reason.

But, for all that, it's nothing an adult unicorn can't handle.

But imagine what an alicorn filly in such a state of young power would be capable of.

Sunset blinked. Then she blinked again. She thought she must have misread Twilight, but no, there was that word, sitting there on the page as plain as the daylight coming in through the crack in the curtains.

'An alicorn'? Did you say 'alicorn'? Your niece is an alicorn?

I was as surprised as you when she unfurled her wings.

I doubt that somehow. An alicorn? Really? Seriously? I'm sorry, but what in Equestria did she do to earn that at all of newborn old?

Obviously, she didn't earn anything; she was born an alicorn.

That doesn't make it any better, Twilight! You had to complete one of Starswirl the Bearded's unfinished spells to earn — mark that — earn your wings. Cadance had to defeat a witch to earn her horn. I barred myself from my own destiny and ambitions because of the flaws of my nature, but apparently, instead of regretting that or becoming a better person than I was, I should have really regretted that I wasn't born into the right family where I could just pop out with wings and a horn both at once and never need to accomplish a single thing or possess a single virtue in my life!

Don't you call your friend Pyrrha's mother 'Lady Nikos'?

You think you’ve caught me out with that, but you haven’t.

Haven’t I?

No. No, you haven’t. I am no republican, I can accept the virtues of hereditary privilege, I can defend its glories, I can wax rhapsodic about the greatness of storied families like Pyrrha’s, old in honour and rich in glory. But to become an alicorn, to be an alicorn, is something else altogether; it is not a matter of mere birth, it is

Once more, Sunset paused to take stock of her words and to choose the right ones.

To become an alicorn is something transcendental, something numinous. We’re talking about an external force — one might even call it the embodiment of magic itself —

I’m not sure that I’d go that far. Magic isn’t alive; it’s a tool that we use, no different from a pegasi’s ability to fly or manipulate the weather or an earth pony’s strength. It’s nothing to speak so boastfully of.

I’m not boasting.

Unicorn magic should not be placed upon a pedestal. That way leads putting unicorns upon a pedestal, and that way lies Evenfall Gleaming and her madness.

Did you just call me a racist?

No, I advised you not to let your thoughts tend in that direction.

I think you’re wildly misinterpreting what I said if you got any of that from what I wrote. I’m just saying, I’m trying to say, trying to write, that ascension is, or should be, something extraordinary, a reward for extraordinary accomplishment and also a signifier of an extraordinary pony. To have somepony simply be born to alicorn-ness cheapens it, or so it seems to me; it tarnishes something beautiful in the same way that the succession of the Maidens here in Remnant was tarnished by the theft of the magic by the first Red Queen.

You mean the murderer who killed the Maiden to take their magic?

Okay, so it’s not exactly the same, but can you at least see, without judgement or twisting my words or misinterpreting what I’m writing — and to be clear, I mean no malice whatsoever towards your niece, I’m sure she’s lovely — that I’m making some sense?

I do get where you’re coming from. As I mentioned, it was a shock to me as well when her wings popped out. But, while I wasn’t expecting it, and while Cadance and Shining Armor weren’t expecting it either, according to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, it’s far from unheard of. In fact, it seems to be a return to the old way.

'The old way?'

While Princess Celestia was as surprised to see Flurry Heart an alicorn as any of us, she did tell me later that alicorn fillies and colts used to be very common. In fact, born alicorns used to be far more common than ascended ones.

Really? When was this?

Oh, years and years ago, before Princess Celestia and Princess Luna ascended — no pun intended — to the rule of Equestria, when they were little fillies themselves. Did you know that they were both born alicorns?

Sunset bit on her lip just a little. You know, we never really talked about Princess Celestia’s childhood. I mean, we did, but always in the context of the early history of Equestria, when the three tribes were still coming together as one kingdom and Starswirl the Bearded was preparing Celestia for the throne, although I suppose that that was more of her adolescence than her childhood. I mean, it’s not like I thought that she’d always been there and always would be — not consciously, anyway.

I know what you mean.

But I never really thought about her being a kid, having parents, that sort of thing. Maybe I should have.

I won’t pretend that I thought about it before Princess Celestia brought it up. I suppose an adolescent Celestia, who had a few things to learn but was already on the pathway to her destiny, being mentored by the wisest and most powerful unicorn of her day, is a lot easier to accept than a filly Celestia playing pranks on Luna.

Although, now that you’ve said that, I can see it.

Me too. But, anyway, according to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the two of them spent their childhoods in a place called Skyros, growing up in a community of alicorns.

A community of alicorns? Now that I’m having trouble imagining. What would that even look like? I suppose I should ask 'what did that look like?'

I’m not entirely sure; Princess Celestia said that she was happy there but was also quite vague about what it was actually like, beyond the fact that they were all alicorns. But I think it must have been a community much like any other, like Ponyville or Canterlot.

Except they were all alicorns.

Exactly. But what was interesting to me was that even alicorns born — although I suppose, going from the examples of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, that it shouldn’t have surprised me — were embodiments of some specific ability or concept. So, not only was Princess Celestia the sun alicorn, and Princess Luna the moon alicorn, but their playmate Opaline was the fire alicorn.

So what happened? Why did Princess Celestia and Princess Luna leave this Skyros and come to Equestria? And so young, too; Princess Celestia told me that she was barely a teenager when Starswirl presented her and her sister at the Great Conclave of the Tribes, when he urged all three races to come together under her rule and promised to guide them on their path to be the rulers that Equestria deserved, and when the rulers of three tribes knelt before them, and the pony tribes acclaimed them, despite the hoof-full of voices raised against them. But then, why did they come to Equestria so young and unaccompanied? Where were their parents, where were the other alicorns?

I don’t know. Princess Celestia didn’t say. She went quiet, and I fear that it must be a sad story.

Sunset closed her eyes. I fear it too, although had you not made that point, I would have told myself that it was just this place has conditioned me to expect sad stories. And yet, if it were so sad, why did she tell you?

So that I’d understand that Flurry Heart isn’t so unusual after all? Or maybe she just wanted to tell me, so that Skyros, her home, wouldn’t be completely forgotten, even if all I know is so vague about it. I’ve been trying to get Princess Celestia to tell me where it is, or was, so that we can go on an expedition there.

'We'?

Me and my friends, of course; and Starlight too. Although Starlight doesn’t seem particularly enthusiastic.

She doesn’t fancy the journey?

I think it’s more that she’s concerned about what we’ll find there. After all, if it is a sad story, then

Then maybe there are things better left unfound, secrets left untold. Things left in the past. Perhaps there is a reason Princess Celestia will not say more.

Perhaps, but still: an ancient community of alicorns? Living outside of what we now call Equestria? How am I supposed to take such crumbs of knowledge and be satisfied?! How am I supposed to not want to know, to find out more, to discover the truth, whatever that truth might be?

The truth can hurt sometimes, and be unsatisfying. Do what you will, but for my sake and for the sake of Princess Celestia, promise that you’ll be careful.

I don’t need to be careful when I have my friends by my side.

Sunset winced as Twilight’s words stabbed her in the heart; they caused her almost physical pain, so much so that she almost dropped the pen in her hand and felt the urge to clutch at her chest.

Twilight, please.

Okay, I promise. Now, where was I?

Flurry Heart’s Crystalling.

Yes, the Crystalling that was almost ruined when Flurry destroyed the Crystal Heart.

She destroyed it?

Not on purpose, obviously.

Even so, she destroyed one of the most powerful magical artefacts in Equestria?

As I said, powerful but very fragile.

So what did you do?

Twilight: Well, we were all very fortunate that Starlight's childhood friend Sunburst had moved to the Crystal Empire. I'd told her that she ought to meet him, catch up, try and rekindle their friendship, which, reluctantly, she did.

'Reluctantly'?

She was ashamed of what she'd done. Understandable, I guess, even if it did underestimate Sunburst's capacity for forgiveness. Anyway, the way Spike told it, Sunburst was pretty ashamed and embarrassed to see Starlight, too.

What did he have to be ashamed of?

The fact that he felt he hadn't lived up to his potential, hadn't become the great mage the whole town thought he would be when he got his cutie mark and they sent him off to magic school. However, luckily for us, luckily for the Crystal Empire, while Sunburst isn't the most powerful unicorn in Equestria, he is very knowledgeable on magical theory. In fact, he turned out to know more than I did.

More than you? Really?

Yes, really, he knew what I didn't, that a traditional repair spell wouldn't work upon a magical artefact like the Crystal Heart, but he also knew the right combination of spells that would repair the Heart and complete Flurry Heart's Crystalling and put a restraint on her powers for the sake of Shining Armor and Cadance!

All that at once?

Pretty amazing, huh?

All at once, yeah, that is impressive. So that's what he brings to the table.

And so, with Sunburst's knowledge and my power, we were able to restore the Crystal Heart and Crystal Flurry Heart as planned. And the whole Crystal Empire sparkled with the light of love. I have to say, while I'm not sure that I'd like to live permanently in my crystalline form, it is very neat when it happens.

Sunset smiled. You sound like you have a very lovely life, and I mean that in both the nicest but also the kind of envious way.

I choose to take that as a compliment, so thank you, if thanks are appropriate. And you're right, I do have a very nice life. The best. It's a life I wouldn't trade for anything, anything at all.

The writing stopped momentarily, before it resumed.

So what's up that you don't want to talk about? What's up that you don't want to tell Princess Celestia about?

Sunset closed her eyes. She supposed, as much as she would have much rather gone on not talking about it, as much as she would have much rather gone on talking about Equestria, about Twilight's life, about the history of alicorns, anything … they had reached the moment. Having been asked the question so directly, she couldn't put it off any longer.

Ruby found out what I did, in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn. Everyone found out what I did.

There was another pause with no reply from Twilight, a pause that seemed longer and more drawn out than previous delays in her answers.

I see. At least, I see why you didn't want to talk to Princess Celestia about this. How did they find out?

It's a little complicated, but basically — okay, so some good news before that; we won our first two matches in the tournament!

Does that still matter?

Not really, no, but all the same, when we won, when Pyrrha and I beat Trixie and Starlight yesterday in the two-on-two round, it felt so amazing, so wonderful, so glorious. Whatever happened after that, and happens next, I hope never to forget the way that felt, that joy, the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears, the sheer thrill, the fun of a battle with no consequence but fun and entertainment. The joy of Team Sapphire's last triumphs.

That's ominous.

After that, we took Amber to the carnival, where who should show up but Cinder?

Cinder? I thought she was wanted; how did she get into Vale?

That wasn't the most important question on our minds. She was there for Amber, except at the same time, I'm not altogether sure that's true. More than that, I think she just wanted a fight.

Sunset grinned.

And we certainly gave her one of those. The four of us, and Penny, fought her, and beat her, and took her prisoner.

I'd offer my congratulations if I didn't know what was coming up. Was it Cinder who told everyone what you did?

No, Cinder was very chivalrous about the whole thing really; she took her defeat on the chin and even told us a lot of information about Salem’s operations in Vale and beyond. Not all of it was true, there were at least a couple of lies in there because I suppose she just can't help herself, but she warned us about a Siren in Vale

A Siren? You mean the creatures vanished from Equestria by Starswirl the Bearded?

The same. I would have rather that Starswirl's wisdom would have extended to finding somewhere else to send monsters and villains.

Princess Celestia told me that she's apologised on behalf of Equestria to Professor Ozpin. So what are you going to do about the Siren?

I'm not sure. Everything happened after that before we could make plans. You see, Cinder also warned us that there were other agents of Salem still in hiding at Beacon, and they must have leaked the information about what I did in the tunnel.

And you couldn't deny it? Was there proof?

No proof that I couldn't have denied, no proof that Councillor Emerald didn't deny, but although I could deny it to the wider world, I just couldn't deny it to my friends anymore, not to their faces, not in private. So when Ruby straight up demanded to know if it was true or not, I confessed to them.

I see. Well, I’m sure that Applejack would say that you did the right thing.

And you?

I should probably say that you did the right thing too, but, even leaving aside the judgement of what you did, simply assuming that it was a fault, having compounded the fault by keeping the secret from everyone for so long, why now? Why choose to confess?

Because Ruby knew it was true. She knew what I’d done; I could see it in her eyes. And, although this may sound stupid, keeping a secret was different from lying to her face when she asked.

No, that isn’t stupid at all; it makes perfect sense. To me, anyway. So, if you don’t mind me asking, how much trouble are you in?

If we were talking, this is the moment where I would laugh bitterly. Because in a sense, I’m not in any trouble at all. It’s as you say, having compounded the fault by keeping it a secret, the public can’t be allowed to believe that it’s true, what I’ve been accused of, what I did, because if it were known to be true, then Councillor Emerald — who was accused of knowing what I did, along with Former Councillor Aris — would be destroyed by it politically; and maybe personally too, depending on how vengeful the people were feeling. Since that wouldn’t be in the best interests of Vale or its people, he’s got my back, and even Ruby has agreed that it mustn’t come out, or bring down the First Councillor. Stability in Vale has to come first, the prevention of panic has to be our top priority, and so, I have, in a sense, gotten away with it.

Except you haven’t, have you? The fact that you said ‘even Ruby,’ the fact that you wanted to talk about it, tells me that much. How did she take it? How did they all take it? Who is ‘all,’ actually? You said it’s being kept a secret, but who knows the truth?

All of my friends: Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Amber, Blake, Twilight — the other Twilight — Ciel, and Dove. Rainbow knew already, but unlike the fact that Councillor Emerald and Professor Ozpin knew, that hasn’t come out. As for how they took it, none of them took it well, but Ruby took it hardest. She has a right to not take it well, I’ve been too bad of a friend to her to bank upon any kind of loyalty or generosity from her. If I wanted to sit upon that branch, I shouldn’t have sawn it off with such vigour. She cast me out.

I’m sorry, what?

Just like you were banished from Ponyville by Trixie, I’ve been banished from Beacon by Ruby.

Trixie was being driven mad by a dark magical artefact.

And Ruby is possessed by a righteous intensity. She blazes with a light more powerful than any that springs from her magical eyes, and it will not abide the presence of a darkness.

You’re not a darkness.

Ruby would say otherwise.

You were trying to save everyone.

What are you telling me for, I was there?

Right, I know, I’m sorry; it just seems harsh, that’s all.

Perhaps being a huntress is harsh. Or perhaps it should be. Perhaps it was always too harsh for me, and Ruby is just helping me realise what I should have realised a long time ago, that I’m not cut out for this. I don’t begrudge her.

I don’t believe you’re not upset.

Not upset? Of course I’m upset! Come on, Twilight, these are my best friends, this was my home, this was my everything! Yes, I’m upset, obviously, wouldn’t you be upset if you had to leave your friends behind? I’m upset. I’m just not angry at Ruby, is all.

And everyone else? Pyrrha, Jaune, didn’t they get a say in this? Or did they agree with Ruby?

Jaune probably would have agreed; he wasn’t very pleased with me either. Pyrrha gave me a very kind and courteous send-off, fitting of her gentle nature and her royal race. But I don’t know whether that gentleness would have stretched to supporting my continued presence in the team if it had come to something as sordid as a vote. Not that I fought for my place; Ruby had made it clear that she could not abide my presence a second longer, and I wasn’t going to tear the team apart purely upon my own behalf. I

Sunset screwed up her face.

I deserve this. I don’t like it at all, but I deserve it. Certainly, I wasn’t going to, I mean, if I’d tried to fight my corner, how would I even have gone about it? And it could be worse; I mean, I could be headed to prison or something.

I suppose. Even so, I’m sorry. You realise I’ll have to tell Princess Celestia about this.

If I wanted Princess Celestia to know, then I would have asked you to send for her!

I can’t just keep the fact that you’ve been thrown out of Beacon — or left Beacon, since I doubt that Ruby has the power to expel you — to myself! You can’t keep it from Princess Celestia either! What are you going to tell her next time you write and she asks about your friends?

I will

Please don’t say you’re going to lie to her.

No, I’ll tell her that Professor Ozpin asked me to leave school so that I could do some work for him.

You mean lie to her.

When you put it like that, it sounds bad.

Funny, that.

How am I supposed to tell her what I did? How am I supposed to tell her why I had to leave, why Ruby was so incensed with me? I can’t tell her. I don’t want to tell her.

Understandable, but at this point, I’m not sure that you have a lot of choice.

You might be right. You are right. I hate it, but you’re right. But that doesn’t mean I have to tell her now, does it?

So long as you tell her the next time you speak, that should be alright. So, what are you going to do now? Do you know? Do you have any idea? Dare I ask if you’ve considered coming home?

I’ve considered it, yes.

And?

And I can’t.

No? You know, you could have a lovely life yourself. It would be here, waiting for you, if you wanted.

Oh, I want it, believe you me. To have the life that you have, a life that might not be entirely free from fear, but nevertheless more free from it than otherwise, a life without the risk of death, a life of fun and frolics and easy companionship, I want that very much. But just because I want it doesn’t mean that I get to have it, and I don’t want it just for myself, to selfishly possess all on my own.

Equestria isn’t my home anymore, Twilight; it will always have a claim upon my heart, and so will Princess Celestia, but Remnant is my home. It’s where my friends are and where my friends are engaged in a great and deadly struggle. I can’t just abandon them and swan off to live a lovely life in Equestria while they’re still fighting.

It doesn’t sound as though they want your help.

Well, tough on them, they’ve got it anyway. Somehow. In some fashion. I haven’t worked out the details yet; I’m hoping that Professor Ozpin will find some use for me, even outside of Beacon. Maybe I can roam around Remnant like Ruby’s uncle. Actually, no, I don’t think I really want to be him; he dresses like a tramp, and he reeks of alcohol. Ugh. I would prefer Professor Ozpin to find me something a little more fitting for someone who has a little of their self-respect remaining. Maybe I can go to Mistral and serve Lady Nikos, as Pyrrha suggested.

Pyrrha suggested that? It sounds as though she’s on your side still.

She suggested that I go to Mistral; that doesn’t mean that she wants me around.

She wants you around her house and her mother.

Her mother who she doesn’t get on with.

That is a fair point. Have you spoken to her? Pyrrha’s mother, I mean.

No, although I should at some point, whether or not I ask her for a place and a position. It would only be courteous, especially since she cannot remain ignorant of these accusations for long. I suppose what I’m saying is that I have options. Even if I don’t go to Equestria, which I won’t, I am not without choices just because I am without Beacon. There are ways I hope that I may be of service to Professor Ozpin and my friends. I’m just saying that I’m not yet at the door of destitution; there are a few steps left before I’m at the crust of humility.

And even if I was there, I still wouldn’t turn bandit, thank you, Raven.

Can I just say that you’re taking this very well?

Well, thank you, first of all, although I’m not sure how much I really deserve the thanks. In part, it’s just the fact that I’m writing to you in the morning, rather than last night. I have wept out my tears, at least for now. But more than that, it’s simply the fact that I have no one to blame for this but myself. And so, that being the case, it makes it very hard to get overly emotional about it. Especially when the Aris family has been so good to me; I’m writing this in Skystar’s bedroom. They know what I’ve done, and still, they offer me hospitality. Pyrrha found out what I’d done, and still, she bade me take Soteria, the sword of her family, with her. Her mother may hold out a hand to offer me a place of honour in her household. Though I have left Beacon, and though that wounds me, nevertheless, I am reminded that I have a great deal to be thankful for, and that cuts against the hurt.

When you put it like that, it seems to me that you, too, have a very lovely life.

Sunset laughed, despite the vast distance of worlds between them. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you know, you might have a point. And you are a part of that, with your constant ear. Thank you, for listening, but also for sharing those stories with me; it was a relief to hear them. If you do make it to Skyros, you’ll tell me what you find, won’t you? My curiosity is somewhat piqued.

I’ll tell you everything that I find out, if I manage to make it there. Take care, Sunset, and don’t wait too long to tell Princess Celestia.

I won’t, I promise. Thanks again, Twilight, and take care yourself, especially if you go to Skyros. But now, I’m afraid I have to go; I have to prepare for a press conference.

Good luck with that, and with everything else. We’ll speak again soon.

I hope so.

She shut the book, her hand resting upon the leather cover, upon the symbol of her cutie mark, the red-gold sun.

Sunset tilted her head back, letting her flaming hair fall down behind her, feeling a little bit of water prick at the corners of her eyes.

Yes. Yes, I am very fortunate for all my faults. I am blessed.

A lovely life.

If not quite so lovely now as once it was, not so very long ago.

Still, like I said to Twilight, I have only myself to blame on that front; nothing to do but make the best of it.

The door opened; Skystar stood in the doorway. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, sorry,” Sunset said, “I just … got caught up in the writing, I suppose?”

Skystar frowned. “Are you worried that someone will find that, read it, and discover the truth about what you did?”

“No,” Sunset said, as she put the journal aside and got to her feet.

“'No'?” Skystar repeated.

“No,” Sunset said again. “Trust me, I’m not going to just leave this lying around people that I don’t … trust.”

Skystar smiled a little. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“And besides,” Sunset went on, “what do I have to hide from you?”

“Also a good point,” Skystar murmured.

Sunset took a couple of steps across the bedroom floor — with her boots off, her feet made almost no sound at all — when her scroll went off.

“Sorry about this,” she said, “but it might be important.”

“Just don’t answer it if it’s the press calling you for a statement,” Skystar said.

“If it’s not a number I know, I won’t bother answering,” Sunset said, as she got out her scroll and opened it up. It was … Penny?

Huh.

Sunset debated not answering; she didn’t know what Penny wanted, and she wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain herself to Penny, if Penny wanted an explanation. But it would be kind of mean to just straight up not answer; courtesy demanded that she at least find out what Penny wanted.

If the conversation strayed into uncomfortable territory, she could also explain that she didn’t want to talk.

Failing that, she could always hang up. She didn’t want to, but … it wasn’t as though she and Penny were going to be spending a lot of time together in future, were they?

“I’m sorry, but I should take this,” Sunset murmured. “I will be down as soon as I’m done.”

Skystar stepped closer. “Take your time.”

Sunset looked up from her scroll. “You don’t have to stick around.”

“Does it bother you if I do?”

“I … no, I suppose not,” Sunset replied. So long as Penny doesn’t mention Salem, we should be fine. “I just hope you’re not bored.”

She pushed the green button to answer the call.

Penny’s face appeared on the screen, looking up at Sunset; she smiled up with a glee that seemed, in the circumstances, to verge upon the inappropriate.

“Sunset!” she cried. Her face fell a little, and she looked away somewhere off-screen, as though she was afraid that she was going to get into trouble for sounding too eager. “I mean, um … it’s good to see you again.”

“Is it?” Sunset asked.

Okay, so maybe I’m a little upset.

“Of course!” Penny declared. “Just because of what happened doesn’t mean that we’re not friends. Does it?”

“That … isn’t really for me to say is it?” asked Sunset. “I mean, I’m the one who … do you still want to be my friend, even after … you know?”

Penny nodded. “Even though what you did was wrong, I still like you. I wish you didn’t have to go away.”

Sunset bowed her head for a second, her hair falling down all around her face; she brushed it out of the way, lest it form a curtain of concealment between her and Penny. “I wish that too, Penny, even though I think … it’s probably for the best. Maybe it … thank you, Penny; it’s very nice to hear that.”

Penny shifted her head leftwards and rightwards, as though she were trying to peer out of the corners of the screen. “Where are you? That looks like a house?”

“I’m in Former Councillor Aris’ house, in Skystar Aris’ bedroom,” Sunset said. “Skystar is here with me.”

Skystar shuffled forwards, leaning in so that her head was just a little bit below Sunset’s, somewhat visible in the screen. “Hello. It’s Penny Polendina from Atlas’ Team Rosepetal, isn’t it?”

“I am Penny Polendina, yes,” Penny replied. “You remember me?”

“I remember all the Vytal Tournament contestants,” Skystar replied. “Names, teams, schools. It all comes with the role. Not that I’ll have that for much longer.”

“Well, the truth is, maybe you shouldn't tell anyone about this, but the truth is, I’m not part of Team Rosepetal anymore.”

Sunset frowned. “You’re not?” she asked, stepping away from Skystar so that the latter didn’t obstruct her view of Penny. “Why not, what happened?”

Penny cannot have been exiled too, what in Remnant for?

What would move Rainbow Dash to treat Penny as Ruby has treated me?

Penny hesitated for a second. “I … don’t be mad, Sunset, but … Professor Ozpin asked me to lead Team Sapphire, at least for now.”

“You?” Sunset repeated, before realising how that sounded. “You,” she said again, in a hopefully less surprised tone of voice. “You, you are the new leader of the team, wow, that…” She found herself trailing off.

It was fair to say that Penny would not have been Sunset’s choice, if Professor Ozpin had bothered to consult her. She had, some time ago, made the decision that if anything were to happen to her, then her voice in the succession would go to Pyrrha, and if she had been consulted, she would have stood by that decision. But Professor Ozpin had not consulted with her, and given the circumstances, he wasn’t really obliged to; instead … instead he had chosen Penny.

Not someone that Sunset would have considered, if only because she went to the wrong school, but Sunset supposed, considering it now, that she could see the advantages in it. Penny was, after all, transferring to Beacon, and the topic of where she would fit in, what team would she be a part of, whether she would make any new friends, they had all been things that everyone had been considering, and for which there were no easy answers. But Sunset by removing herself — by being removed — from the equation, had provided just such an easy answer. Sunset slotted out, Penny slotted in, and Team SAPR — or whatever its new name ended up being — had four members again, as Sunset had always wished that it should.

She had said to Pyrrha that she didn’t want there to be a permanent empty slot on the team serving as her memorial in death, and she didn’t need for it to be a permanent reminder of her defenestration now, either. And Penny, skilled, brave, loving Penny, was perhaps the best choice of a replacement that Sunset could have hoped for in the circumstances.

As for being the leader … Sunset supposed that she could see what Professor Ozpin had been thinking: Penny was popular; she cared about the other members of the team; she was curious, which hopefully also meant that she was keen to learn; she was both a newcomer but at the same time also known to the others.

There were worse building blocks to start off with, even if there were also easier and more propitious starts to being a team leader.

“Congratulations, Penny,” she said, “that is—”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Penny said. “I know I’m not who you would have chosen.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “That … that’s neither a slight nor a judgement on you, Penny,” she said. “It … events have proven that my judgement is far from infallible.”

“I’m not upset,” Penny said. “I get it, I … I’m a little nervous about it myself, but I want you to know — I want you to know, especially — that I … this opportunity means more than anything to me, and I … I promise you that I’ll do everything that I can to keep everyone safe. Ruby said that I shouldn’t say that.”

“I can see why,” Sunset murmured. “But I’ll take that in the spirit in which it was intended. For what it’s worth, I do believe that they will be safer with you than without you, and safer with you than with pretty much anyone else I can think of who might take my place.”

“I don’t know if I can be as good a leader as you,” Penny said. “But I’m going to try.”

“You can’t be as good a leader as me, Penny,” Sunset said, “but I’m sure that if you try hard enough, you can be better.”

Penny blinked. “You … you think so?”

It wouldn’t be that difficult. “I do.”

“Sunset,” Penny whispered. “That means a lot. I … I’m so glad. Can I tell you a secret?” She leaned forwards. “A big part of the reason I told everyone that I’d call you is because I was hoping that you’d approve. It … it wouldn’t feel right, taking over if you didn’t want me to.”

“You don’t need my blessing,” Sunset told her, “but if it helps, you have it. I’m glad to know the team is in good hands. So, now that there are two Ps but no S, what are you going to call the team now?”

“Since nobody can know that you’re not on the team anymore, in case they suspect that … you know,” Penny said.

“That I did the things they’re saying that I did,” Sunset said.

“Yes,” said Penny, “that. Because of that, we’re staying as Team Sapphire for now, and people aren’t supposed to really know that I’m the team leader. Luckily, I hang out with you guys all the time, so nobody should suspect anything … except the fact that you’re not here. That’s why I got this chance to call you, Pyrrha was telling us about last night, and, well, we realised that we need to make sure that if people ask why you’re not at Beacon, then we’re all giving the same answer. Otherwise, it’ll look really suspicious.”

“True, but I’ve had a thought about that,” Sunset said. “Councillor Emerald is going to say that he’s sending me off on a mission—”

“Snap!” Penny cried. “We were going to say that you were on a mission, too!”

“Great minds, Penny,” Sunset said. “To give you the details: I’ll soon be leaving for Mount Aris, to take care of some grimm there. And I will actually be leaving, by the way; this is a real mission, given to me by Former Councillor Aris, because she has confidence in me beyond my deserving. But the current Councillor Emerald is going to take the credit for it, prove that he has confidence in me as well, and explain why I’m not around.”

“Until your mission is over,” Penny said. “But missions end.”

“Here we go,” Skystar muttered.

“It’s a great idea,” Sunset insisted.

“What is?” asked Penny.

“I’m going to fake my own death,” Sunset declared.

“That doesn’t sound like a great idea,” Penny replied. “We were thinking that we’d just tell everyone that you decided to drop out of school.”

“Very sensible,” Skystar commented.

“But that makes it seem like I was … weak,” Sunset said. “Or that I couldn’t cut it.”

“Awww, that sounds awful,” Skystar said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sunset narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, okay, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be remembered fondly, whether I strictly speaking deserve it or not. And besides, as I’ve explained, it also draws a sharp line under everything. Nobody’s going to ask awkward questions about me if I’m dead. If I’m dead, nobody will care anymore. All of this will be forgotten, and the public will move on to something else.”

“But you’re not actually going to die, right?” Penny said.

“No,” Sunset said. “I’m not actually going to die; I’m just going to disguise myself as someone else. Stop rolling your eyes, Skystar.”

Skystar rolled her eyes more. “Penny, help me out and tell Sunset how ridiculous this is.”

“I don’t know,” Penny said. “Is it really that ridiculous?”

“No,” said Sunset.

“Yes!” Skystar cried. “How can you not see that?”

“It does sound hard, having to go around for the rest of your life pretending to be somebody you’re not,” Penny admitted. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Not really,” Sunset conceded. “But I’d rather that than have people continue looking into me, trying to work out if I did it or not, not to mention questioning Councillor Emerald — or thinking that I ran away from Beacon, for that matter.”

“It sounds difficult, but not that bad a plan,” Penny replied. “But if Skystar thinks that it’s that bad, then maybe Pyrrha or Jaune or Ruby would agree with her. I should probably talk to them about it.”

“You certainly wouldn’t want them to think Sunset was actually dead,” Skystar informed her. “That kind of thing can spiral out of control in the worst ways imaginable.”

Sunset huffed. “Well, look, no firm decisions have to be made right now, so just … I still have time to think about this, okay? Maybe … maybe I’ll talk to Lady Nikos and see what she thinks, since Pyrrha seems to think that she’d be willing to speak to me. I think that I’m right, but I am willing to be counselled otherwise. But, for now, you can tell anyone who asks that I’m going on a mission and that I went to speak to Skystar about this … email that she wrote.”

“What are you going to say about that?” asked Penny.

“Watch our press conference and find out,” Skystar instructed.

“Will do!” Penny declared. “When is it?”

“In about an hour’s time,” Skystar said. “So we should probably eat something and get ready if we don’t want to be facing the press on an empty stomach and in our PJs.” She chuckled. “That would have the merit of being original, although I’d still rather eat something.”

“Does that mean you need to go?” asked Penny.

“Before we do,” Sunset said quickly, “did Pyrrha tell you—?”

“Everything,” Penny said. “Pyrrha told us everything, but when we talked to Professor Ozpin, he told us that the most important thing that Pyrrha or Yang could do today was fight in the tournament.”

“Well, tell Pyrrha good luck for me, won’t you?”

“You could also tell her yourself,” Penny said.

“No, we’ve said our goodbyes,” Sunset said. “But I’ll be watching, you can count on that.” She paused. “I … I hope that we will meet again, whether or not I’m wearing a disguise at the time. I haven’t spoken to Professor Ozpin yet, but when I do, I hope he will continue to accept my service.”

“Oh, yes, he will!” Penny cried. “Last night, he told Professor Goodwitch to meet you.”

“He did?” Sunset replied. “Meet me where?”

“At Pyrrha’s mother’s,” Penny said. “Professor Ozpin thought you’d probably go see her.”

“Professor Ozpin is a wise man,” Sunset murmured. “At least I am not to be completely cast out. Nevertheless, I… I won’t speak to Pyrrha again, just yet. If nothing else it would undermine the notion of saying goodbye at Beacon, and make it all seem… a bit melodramatic. If…” she paused for a moment. “If we do not meet again-”

“Then I’m really glad that I got to meet you,” Penny said.

A sigh escaped from Sunset’s lips; she could hold it in no longer. “I’m glad I got to meet you too,” she said. “Even if this is only for now, as I hope it is, goodbye, Penny.”

Penny’s face fell as she nodded. “Goodbye, Sunset.”

Sunset hung up, staring down at her scroll as the screen went blank, no voice, no sound.

Nothing.

Nothing left at all.

Sunset sighed again. She couldn’t seem to help herself. She glanced up at Skystar. “Do you think that any of this is going to work?”

“I … I don’t know,” Skystar admitted. “I’ve got no idea. But I do know that we’ve got no choice but to try and make it work, right?”

“Right,” Sunset murmured. She nodded, she forced herself to nod, just as she forced her voice to sound stronger. “You’re absolutely right. We’ve got no choice, so we’ve just got to do it.”

It was a little under an hour later that they stood outside of Former Councillor Aris’ house, facing the press as though they were facing a firing squad.

With the number of flashes going off in their faces, the comparison was not an inapt one.

There were four of them outside, all four of them being photographed, being filmed, all of them having the flashes erupt into their eyes, trying not to flinch away from the bright lights. Skystar and Sunset stood in the centre, with Former Councillor Aris on her daughter’s left, and First Councillor Emerald upon Sunset’s right.

Their expressions were all grave; that was appropriate for the circumstances, but also fit their moods.

At least, that was how it seemed to Sunset.

She really, really wished that it didn’t have to be this way. She really wished that she could have come up with something better for Skystar to say to excuse why she had written that email, because it wasn’t great, but … she hadn’t been able to think of anything better, and neither had anybody else, so they were stuck with this, and so was Skystar.

Hopefully, it would die down and be forgotten.

“My name,” Skystar said, her voice trembling. Sunset would have taken her hand if she had thought it would have been welcome. She was not certain that it would be, and anyway, it would have looked odd for the cameras. “My name is Skystar Aris, and this fuss was started because of an email that I wrote. I wrote it, but I never sent it, I never seriously intended to send it, and this whole thing has been blown up by some hacker who got a hold of a piece of rubbish, as though they stole a scrawled up note from my wastepaper basket.”

“So you’re denying everything written in the email?” came a question from out of the press pack.

“Yes,” Skystar said. “Yes, it isn’t true. Councillor Emerald, my mom, they would never cover something like that up.”

“Then why did you write it?”

“Because…” Skystar hesitated for a second. “Because Sunset … because Sunset is the person who leaked that recording of Cardin Winchester, the one where he was saying those awful things about the faunus to Blake Belladonna. You might remember, or you might not; it’s been a while, and a lot’s happened since then. I don’t blame you if you’ve forgotten, I guess it wasn’t really that big of a deal, it died down pretty fast, but … but Cardin was my boyfriend, and I … it hurt, finding that stuff out in that way. And so, when I found out, when Sunset told me that she’d done it … I was upset with her, and I wanted to get her back, and so I thought that maybe I would leak something about her, see how she liked it. Only … only I’d have to make something up because Sunset hadn’t done anything wrong. It was stupid and petty and mean, and I knew all of that; that’s why I didn’t send the email. I knew that it would be wrong to lie about Sunset that way.”

“What about Councillor Emerald? What about your mother?”

“I knew, I thought, that they would be able to clear everything up, after Sunset had been made to sweat for a little bit,” Skystar said. “I knew, I thought, that nobody would seriously believe that they would do something like this.” She bowed her head. “I am so sorry for any distress that I’ve caused to those who lost friends or relatives in the Breach, my message was inappropriate, but—”

“But not intended to be sent,” Former Councillor Aris added. “My daughter is here apologising out of maturity and a sense of responsibility, but this is not her fault. She did not contact the news with this information; she thought better of her actions before they led anywhere. The fault, the sole fault, lies with those who illegally accessed her data and used it for malicious purposes.”

“Quite frankly,” said Councillor Emerald, “the fact that this single message, with no supporting evidence, was blurted out all over the news, reported on by all of you with no due diligence whatsoever, nor even an attempt to contact Miss Aris, Miss Shimmer, myself, or Novo Aris beforehand for our side of the story is utterly disgraceful and a mockery of even the most basic standards of journalism. At least look out the window before you tell me it’s raining!”

“Sunset Shimmer, do you deny all this too?”

“It has been categorically denied,” said Councillor Emerald. “How many times?”

“Sunset Shimmer, do you deny it?”

“Yes!” Sunset snapped. “Yes, I deny it. I…” She took a deep breath. “My team captured Cinder Fall last night. My teammate, Pyrrha Nikos, is competing in the one-on-one round of the Vytal Tournament today. That should be what you’re reporting on, not harassing Skystar for having put something in her deleted items folder!” She took a step forward. “You can come at me, if you want to, you can lie about me, I can handle it; but leave Skystar out of it, leave her mother out of it, and for that matter, leave Councillor Emerald out of it too; he is … he is a good man trying to do his best for Vale in some pretty rough circumstances, and I think he’s doing a pretty good job.”

Sunset forced herself to look straight ahead, in spite of the flashes going off in her face.

“So will you be watching Pyrrha Nikos in the tournament?”

“Unfortunately not,” Sunset said. “I’d love to, but duty calls: Councillor Emerald has asked me to go to Mount Aris to assist in dealing with some grimm there; I’ll be setting out as soon as possible.”

“Is that true, Councillor?”

“She would hardly have said it if it weren’t,” Councillor Emerald observed “Yes, it is true. Miss Shimmer has proved herself both capable and reliable, and these false accusations do not dent my confidence in her. I am certain that she will serve Vale as well in Mount Aris as she has served Vale so well so many times already.”

Author's Note

The details in here about alicorns derives from my interpretation of what details MLP G5 had offered, up until the end of Chapter 5 of Make Your Mark; it was just my luck that before this chapter got published Chapter 6 of Make Your Mark came out and possibly invalidated some of this, nevertheless I've decided to keep it unchanged because I felt like some of the (possible) Chapter 6 reveals took away some of the interesting possibilities suggested earlier.

Shadow Over Proceedings (New)

Shadow Over Proceedings

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Sunburst said. “Do you think Rainbow Dash will be able to pull it off, go all the way? Or maybe even Neon?”

“How do you know it will be Neon Katt?” asked Starlight. “I mean, they might pick their team leader to go through to the one on one round.”

Sunburst shook his head. “Neon is the one with the most talent on Team Funky; they’d be smart to send her through.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll do it,” Starlight pointed out.

“Maybe not,” Sunburst admitted. “But I also overheard her other two teammates talking about how Neon was going to go through to the one-on-one.”

“Oh, well that does suggest that it’ll be her,” Starlight admitted.

The four members of Team TTSS were in their dorm room. Trixie had just come out of the bathroom, the last of them to enter and thus the last to leave, and was currently clasping her starry cape around her neck and shoulders as a unique addition to the Atlas uniform that they were all wearing. Sunburst was sitting on his bed, while Starlight was on her feet, standing in the middle of the dorm room, arms folded.

Tempest was, like Sunburst, sat on her bed at the far end of the room, looking down at her scroll.

“Personally, I don’t think that she’ll go all the way,” Starlight went on. “Neon isn’t bad, don’t get me wrong, but she’s not all that great, and there are some good fighters — or at least, there’ll probably be some other good fighters in the mix — and I’m not sure that she has what it takes to get past them.”

Trixie looked at her, her cape swirling around her. “There are probably some other good fighters in the mix?”

“We don’t know who’s going to be representing all the teams, do we?” Starlight replied.

“No,” Sunburst admitted. “But do you think any of the possible choices could be bad?”

Starlight hesitated for a moment. “Flash Sentry,” she said. “I know that he’s Rainbow’s friend from combat school—”

“And Trixie’s too,” Trixie reminded her. “Flash isn’t bad.”

“He’s not all that great, either,” Starlight said. “They’d be better off sending Weiss to the one-on-one round.”

“Better off for who?” asked Sunburst. “It might not be better off for Weiss to walk into that arena again and get booed and jeered at.”

“She didn’t mind it so much that it kept her away from the two-on-two,” Starlight pointed out. “Admittedly, I don’t know Weiss Schnee … at all, but I know that Blake and Rainbow like her, and I don’t think they would if she didn’t have the guts to face the crowd in spite of their reception. Besides which, as much as it might seem like the whole world hates her and her family, that’s not actually true. The people who do hate her are making the most noise right now, but there are other people who…” She sighed. “I bet there are people who think that her family knew all about those camps, and they should be loud and proud about it; it’s just they daren’t say anything right away.”

“They want the Schnees to be loud and proud, but they’re silent,” Trixie muttered. “Ironic. Hopefully, Weiss Schnee wouldn’t want that kind of support.”

“No, I’m just saying that just because the crowd sounds hostile doesn’t mean that it is,” Starlight replied.

“But what about it, if they’re too afraid or too ashamed to make some noise?” asked Trixie. “It doesn’t matter what the crowd feels; it matters what the crowd says. Is Weiss Schnee, or anyone competing in the final round, supposed to work out what the crowd is really feeling? The only thing that they’ll know is what they can hear, and what they hear is what the crowd feels, to all intents and purposes. Anything else is just … if the crowd didn’t cheer for your act, you’re just kidding yourself if you say that a silent majority thought it was great.” She coughed. “Not that the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrrixie has ever had a problem with a silent crowd, obviously; Trrrrrrixie gets them on their feet, every single time.”

Starlight smiled. “Of course you do,” she said. “You’re great.” The smile stayed on her face. “Anyway, to answer Sunburst’s original question, or the half that I didn’t answer before: Rainbow might go all the way, or she might not; it depends on who she gets drawn up against. Just like it was for us, if we’d been drawn against some of the Shade or Haven teams that were up yesterday, then Trixie would be one of those appearing in the finals today; it was only bad luck that we got Sunset and Pyrrha the way we did. If Rainbow’s first fight is against Pyrrha Nikos, then with all love and respect for Rainbow, she’ll be out. Against some other opponents, she stands a much better chance. It’s the luck of the draw.”

“You don’t think Rainbow can beat Pyrrha?” Sunburst asked.

“If Starlight couldn’t defeat Pyrrha Nikos, then there’s no way that Rainbow Dash will be able to do it,” declared Trixie.

Starlight shook her head slightly. “What do you think?” she asked Sunburst. “You’ve watched her fight; what’s your read on her?”

Sunburst cupped his chin with one hand. “Rainbow has speed on her side,” he murmured. “But in the tight quarters that the final rounds take place in, I’m not sure how much good that will do her. You’re probably right, but not definitely. Despite her name, no one is invincible.”

“I suppose we’ll see about that, won’t we?” asked Starlight. “It would be good to see Rainbow fly the flag for Atlas all the way.”

“If it matters,” Tempest remarked, from the end of the room.

The other three members of the team looked at her, Sunburst shuffling around on his bed.

“'If it matters'?” Trixie repeated, her voice rising in pitch like the squawk of a parrot. “'If it matters'? Of course it matters; it’s the Vytal Tournament, why wouldn’t it matter?”

Tempest looked up from her scroll, turning her neck to look at the three of them. “Because I’ve just read something pretty interesting on the news. It seems that Dash’s Beacon friend Sunset Shimmer has been a bit of a naughty girl.”

Trixie frowned. “What do you mean, 'naughty'?”

“It says here,” Tempest said, “that she caused the Breach at the end of the last semester; she’s the one who let the grimm into Vale.”

“What?” Starlight demanded. That didn’t sound like Sunset, or at least, it didn’t sound like the Sunset that she and Trixie had worked with in Arcadia Lake. Admittedly, that had been after the Breach, but still, the Sunset that they’d worked with had tried to save Arcadia Lake; why would she have bothered to do that if she’d been planning on destroying Vale? If she was like Eve, or like the Cinder Fall, then … why bother?

It just didn’t make any sense to her.

“I’m just telling you what I’m reading,” Tempest said.

“Reading where?” Starlight stalked across the room and plucked Tempest’s scroll out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“Valish News Network,” Starlight read from off Tempest’s screen. “Okay, let’s see … they captured Cinder Fall! You could have opened with that.”

“Who did?” asked Trixie.

“Sunset and her team, and Penny Polendina from Team Rosepetal,” Starlight said. “It said they did it last night; she was … out on the street at the carnival?”

“The wanted criminal went to the carnival?” Sunburst asked.

“Everyone needs to relax and unwind sometimes, it seems,” Trixie muttered.

“Even so!” Sunburst said. “But they took her out.”

“Apparently,” Starlight said. “There was a fight, but judging by these pictures … and this video.” She tapped the screen to play the clip, but didn’t turn the sound on. “Yeah, Sunset projected a shield around the fight to protect bystanders.”

“Nice,” Trixie said. She frowned. “But it was only Penny Polendina from Team Rosepetal? No one else.”

“It doesn’t mention Rainbow or Ciel Soleil or even Blake,” Starlight said. “I guess they weren’t there. You know how Penny Polendina’s practically half Beacon already, and she’s transferring here next year. She must have been hanging out with her friends.”

Trixie shrugged. “So what’s this about Sunset causing the Breach?”

“Scroll down,” instructed Tempest.

Starlight did as she was bade, scrolling down the screen to read further. She blinked. “So, someone anonymously sent in an email that they had hacked out of the Amity Princess’ deleted emails—”

“They can do that?” squawked Sunburst. “I thought they were deleted!”

“Apparently not,” Trixie said. “What do you have in your deleted emails, Sunburst?”

“Nothing,” Sunburst said, and now, it was the turn of his voice to rise. “I certainly don’t have a lot of angry replies to my mom that I didn’t have the guts to send to her when she pestered me about my career plans.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Honestly, in a few years, you’re going to be a commissioned officer with the Atlesian military; what more does your mom want?”

“I think what she really wants is for me to have an office job with the SDC,” Sunburst replied. “Or at least she did, before all this. She kept asking me if I’d had the chance to ingratiate myself with Weiss Schnee yet.”

“Did you even try to ingratiate yourself with Weiss Schnee?”

“No, of course not,” Sunburst said. “I’m not that kind of person … and even if I was that kind of person, I still wouldn’t have had the guts to actually do it.”

“What does it say about Sunset?” pressed Trixie. “What was in this email from the Amity Princess? What does the Amity Princess have to do with anything?”

“The Amity Princess for this festival is Skystar Aris; she’s the daughter of … her mother was the First Councillor of Vale,” Sunburst explained. “She got forced out after the Breach.”

“So she’s bitter,” Trixie said flatly.

“According to this,” Starlight said, “the email states that the Amity Princess, Skystar Aris, overheard her mother and the Valish Councillor Aspen Emerald talking to Sunset about what she’d done, or Sunset confessing to it and them agreeing to cover it up.”

Starlight scrolled further down — only to find that there wasn’t much further to scroll. “That’s it?” she said, turning to face Tempest, tossing her scroll back to her. Tempest caught it in one hand.

“That’s it?” Starlight repeated. “There’s no other evidence, nothing, it’s just … that?”

“You don’t believe it?” asked Tempest.

“I can barely work out what I’m being asked to believe,” Starlight said.

“That Sunset Shimmer, forced to choose between the lives of her friends or the security of Vale, chose her friends and was willing to sacrifice the city of Vale for their sake,” Tempest said.

“You got that from that write-up?” Starlight asked. “No, I don’t believe that, it doesn’t track with me, and if you wanted to get me to believe it, you’d need more than someone slipping a letter under the door. There’s nothing there. It’s fake news.”

“There is the email,” Tempest pointed out.

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “Does it matter to you that I believe this?”

Tempest was silent for a moment. “I just think that they wouldn’t be reporting on it if there wasn’t some chance that it was true.”

“If it’s true, then we’ll find out eventually,” Trixie said. “Until then, I’m not going to start suspecting our friend, a fellow Canterlot Girl, someone that Trixie has fought alongside, because of a few words written by some Valish journalist. No, that will not be happening.”

“I wonder who’d do something like that?” Starlight murmured. “Who would create that fake email and send it to the press?”

“Assuming that it is a fake,” Tempest said.

“Either way, I find their motives more interesting than the story itself,” Starlight murmured.

“Greatness attracts envy, as the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrriixie knows only too well,” Trixie said. “Perhaps someone saw a faunus victorious in the tournament yesterday and thought that she needed to be cut down to size?”

“Kind of extreme, don’t you think?” asked Sunburst.

“But the Valish Councillor is a faunus too, and the Aris family has faunus relatives, I think,” Starlight said. “So it might be racism.”

“Whatever the motive, it’s nonsense up until it isn’t, which Trixie doesn’t think is very likely,” Trixie said. “If Sunset is arrested, then Trixie will, with the greatest reluctance, admit that she was wrong, but unless that happens, we are not in the business of suspecting our allies or our friends. Is that clear?”

“No,” Tempest said bluntly. “What are you asking me to do?”

“I’m ordering you to be a little less…” Trixie waved her hand up and down in Tempest’s direction. “You. I’m telling you not to make any snide remarks about this when you see Sunset or Rainbow Dash or Blake or anyone else.”

Tempest smirked and threw Trixie a salute that Starlight couldn’t help but feel had a rather mocking quality about it. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was a series of very heavy knocks upon the door.

“I’ll get it,” Starlight said, and once more made her way across the room to open the door.

General Ironwood stood on the other side; Starlight had to look up after being initially confronted with the sight of his chest.

“Sir!” Starlight barked, taking a step backwards. “Officer on deck, ten-hut!”

Sunburst and Tempest both leapt to their feet as Trixie slammed her heels together, her hands going to her sides as all four members of Team TTSS sprang to attention.

“At ease,” General Ironwood said as he strode inside.

The four members of Team TTSS relaxed their posture appropriately, spacing their feet out and clasping their hands together behind their backs.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, sir?” Trixie asked.

Starlight was wondering that as well; if General Ironwood was going to pay a visit to any team this morning, he would have expected it to be RSPT or FNKI, to give Rainbow or Neon — or both of them — a pep talk ahead of the final rounds. Instead, he was here for them, even though they’d been defeated and had become irrelevant to the tournament. Which meant that he was here for something else. But what?

General Ironwood also had his hands clasped together. He looked around the room — no, he was looking around at the team — as he strode into the centre of the room.

His eyes seemed to linger on Tempest for a moment longer than on anyone else.

“Shadow, Flare,” he said, “dismissed. Close the door on your way out.”

“Uh, yes, yes sir,” Sunburst said, as he began to march to the still-open doorway. Tempest did likewise, with a sideways glance at General Ironwood.

The door shut behind them with a thud.

Whatever it is, it’s for me and Trixie, not Sunburst or Tempest.

Something … secret, then? Starlight, at least, was privy to some of General Ironwood’s secrets, as much as she wished that she wasn’t, but Trixie? Were they about to be made privy to some of them?

Or was this just a job that General Ironwood had for just the two of them?

Whatever it was, Starlight was starting to wish that General Ironwood hadn’t decided to pay them a visit. She didn’t like this, and not just because she wasn’t as fond of General Ironwood as some of her fellow students were. She didn’t want to be … involved in anything right now; she wanted to cheer on Rainbow Dash in the final rounds, that was all.

She suspected that that wasn’t going to be all by the time that General Ironwood was through with them.

Neither she, nor Trixie, said anything. They stood silently at ease, waiting for General Ironwood to divulge his intentions.

“I … understand that you fought well yesterday,” General Ironwood said. “I hope that you don’t feel too disappointed by your loss.”

“A little, sir,” Trixie said.

“'A little'? That’s only natural,” General Ironwood assured her. “But don’t take it too much to heart. You’re good students and a good team; I wouldn’t want you to lose sight of that.”

Trixie raised her chin a little. “Never, sir.”

A smile tugged at the corners of General Ironwood’s lips. “I’m glad to hear it, Lulamoon. Glad to see that chin up too.”

“Thank you, sir.”

General Ironwood looked at Starlight. “And you, Glimmer? How are you taking it?”

“We gave it our best shot, sir,” Starlight said, not quite looking at General Ironwood. “We were unfortunate to draw a pair who outmatched us. But I think that says more about them than it does about us.”

General Ironwood nodded. “True enough. That’s a good attitude to have, Glimmer.”

“Sir,” Starlight said softly.

General Ironwood went quiet. He almost looked as if he was going to frown, although he didn’t. Still, he did pause for a few seconds.

“I’m afraid there is no easy way to say this,” he admitted. “Have you two noticed anything unusual or suspicious about Shadow recently?”

Starlight couldn’t keep her eyebrows from rising. Unusual or suspicious? Tempest?

What in Remnant’s going on?

Trixie licked her lips. “General … would you mind explaining yourself a little more? I mean … Trixie knows that some people might call things that Trrrrixie does unusual, even if they weren’t suspicious.”

“I’m not asking about personal habits,” General Ironwood said. “Unless you’ve noticed Shadow becoming unusually secretive lately? Does she sneak out often, disappear without explanation, conceal her activities from you?”

“Yes,” Starlight said softly. “Yes, sir, she has, sometimes; around the time of the bombing at the Mistralian Embassy, Tempest disappeared for a couple of days, didn’t show up.”

“Did she say where she’d been when she came back?” General Ironwood asked.

“She told Trixie that she was going to enjoy her Valish liberty, before we went back to Atlas and curfew, sir,” Trixie said. “That was before she left.”

“I see,” General Ironwood murmured. “And you allowed that?”

Trixie hesitated for a moment. “When in Vale, sir?”

“Hmm,” General Ironwood said, without revealing what he thought of that. “Anything else? Has she been spending a lot of time with Bonnie Bonaventure of Beacon’s Team Bluebell?”

“Bon Bon?” Trixie said. “Sir, what’s this about ?”

“Answer the question please, Lulamoon,” General Ironwood. “Or you, Glimmer. Has Shadow been spending a lot of time with Miss Bonaventure?”

“'A lot'?” Trixie asked. “I’ve seen them together a couple of times, but not a lot. General—”

“I know,” General Ironwood said. “I know, this looks as suspicious as anything that I’m asking you about, me barging in here asking questions about one of your teammates. I know that your instinct, your training, as a team leader, is to cover for your teammate.”

“Yes, sir,” Trixie said. “Trixie won’t pretend that Tempest and I are best friends, but she is on my team, so I’d like to know why you’re asking me to throw her under a bus.”

“I’m not asking you to condemn Shadow, I’m not looking for evidence against her,” General Ironwood said, “but accusations have been made against Shadow which I cannot in good conscience ignore or dismiss, as much as I might want to.”

“'Accusations'?” Starlight repeated.

“I’m afraid the details are classified,” General Ironwood said. “Suffice to say that, as much as my instinct, my training, as yours, is to defend my people, as much as I would hate to believe that anyone wearing the white of Atlas would betray their comrades, recent revelations have forced me to admit that we may have one or two rotten apples within the ranks. And I can’t ignore the possibility that Shadow might be one of those rotten apples.” He paused. “And so I’m afraid I have a job for you two. It’s one you won’t like, and I’m afraid it’s one that will give you scant reward, but it is one that may be necessary, and it’s a task that I cannot let go undone. I need you to monitor Shadow for at least the next couple of days, don’t leave her unattended; don’t worry about making her suspicious, that’s not important, what’s important is—”

“That she doesn’t have space to do anything unobserved, sir?” Starlight asked.

General Ironwood nodded. “Precisely, Glimmer.”

Starlight pursed her lips together. It was safe to say that, just like Trixie, she wasn’t the biggest fan of Tempest Shadow: she was aloof, smug, and … Starlight mentally searched for ways to express this without sounding terrible even in the confines of her own head; she was aware that people like Tempest, who had lost limbs and needed prosthetics as a result, sometimes suffered discrimination or prejudice because of it. It was one of those things you couldn’t be unaware of, like bigotry against the faunus; it wasn’t right, but it happened sometimes. But there were times when it seemed as though Tempest wasn’t going to wait around for the actual bigotry; she was just going to assume it had already happened and take action against people for it.

Suffice to say that she wasn’t the most likeable person that Starlight had ever met.

But she was still Starlight’s teammate, and for all her faults, they had fought together, and Starlight didn’t want to suspect her of … well, it didn’t help that General Ironwood was being very vague about what it was that he suspected Tempest of. Accusations had been made against her, by who?

By Cinder Fall? That would explain the timing; Team SAPR had caught Cinder last night, and she’d started singing. She’d fingered Tempest, and probably Bon Bon too, judging by what General Ironwood had said, as … something; grimm cultists or some such. Bad news, in any case. She’d named them, and General Ironwood didn’t feel as if he could ignore it.

The worst part was that he was right: it couldn’t be ignored. Yes, they couldn’t and shouldn’t lock Tempest up on the word of some little villain, but as much as Starlight didn’t want it to be true, if it were true, and they ignored it, then … then they wouldn’t be the ones facing the consequences.

“Understood, sir,” Trixie said, in a rather glum, rather quiet voice.

“Thank you, Lulamoon,” General Ironwood said quietly. “I appreciate that. I hope it will turn out to be unnecessary, but if it isn’t—”

“Then what, sir?” asked Starlight.

General Ironwood looked down at her. “Then stop her,” he said softly. His voice rose a little as he said, “That’s all.”

Starlight and Trixie both stood to attention. “Sir.”

General Ironwood turned away and walked to the door. He left it open behind him as he walked out.

Starlight looked at Trixie. She opened her mouth—

“Can we come back in?” asked Sunburst from outside.

Starlight closed her mouth again.

“Yes,” Trixie said. “It’s fine.”

Sunburst led the way in, followed by Tempest, who shut the door behind her.

She glanced between Trixie and Starlight.

“Anything we should know about?” she asked.

“If there was, you would have been in the room to hear about it,” Trixie replied.

Tempest smiled, or maybe she smirked; it was hard to tell. “Of course.”

Starlight found she couldn’t take her eyes off Tempest, because that was what they’d just been ordered to do, keep an eye on Tempest, but also because … that was the worst thing about suspicion, wasn’t it? Like a cancer, it was hard to get rid of once it was there.

What do they think you’ve done, Tempest?

Or what do they think you’re going to do?

“A grimm attack?” Rainbow asked. “There’s going to be a grimm attack?”

“Possibly, if what Cinder said is true,” General Ironwood said. “For obvious reasons, no one’s sure of how much of what she said ought to be believed. But I’ve taken precautions, both against the grimm and against any potential … action from the Valish.”

“What about Tempest Shadow?” asked Blake. “Or Bon Bon, for that matter?”

Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight were lined up in a row, facing General Ironwood, who had just finished explaining to them what Cinder had told Sunset and Pyrrha, before the whole ‘Sunset caused the Breach’ thing kicked off and caused Ruby to kick Sunset out and generally just drove everything else out of everyone else’s mind for a little while.

It was like General Ironwood had said: the question was how much of what Cinder had said ought to be believed. After all, it was Cinder saying it.

Some of it, like the grimm attack, they lost nothing by preparing for, especially since the grimm were actually sitting right there and, while it wouldn’t be complete unheard of for them to sit on the outskirts growling and making noises only to turn around and slink off again — they’d done just that to all those little Valish villages, after all — it also wouldn’t be very surprising for them to have another go at Vale, and the General didn’t lose anything by preparing for that.

And as for the idea that there was some kind of magical creature from Equestria who was making everyone hate Atlas — and the faunus — well, that … that was one of those things that you wouldn’t say unless it was true because it just sounded so out there otherwise; I mean, who’d come up with something like that?

Apart from anything else, how would Cinder know about Equestria if Salem hadn’t come into contact with some Equestrian monsters? Sunset had never mentioned telling her.

So, yeah, Rainbow could buy that, and she was open to the idea that the grimm were about to attack because that was what they did; for the rest, though? She didn’t know this Professor Lionheart, at all, but Tempest and Bon Bon?

How well did she know Tempest Shadow? Not well, not nearly as well as she knew Trixie or Starlight. If Cinder had named either of them, then Rainbow would have known straight away that she was full of it, but Tempest?

Not everyone who wore an Atlesian uniform was a saint, unfortunately; if Phoebe could hide her evil in a cloud of boot polish and deafen the whimpering of her victims with the noisy clicking of her heels and the thump of her feet slamming into the floor, then why not Tempest?

It wasn’t unfortunate, it was really unfortunate, but you couldn’t say that anybody was above suspicion just because they wore the whites.

So maybe Cinder was right about Tempest; not right, maybe she was telling the truth about Tempest. But Bon Bon? Bon Bon, really?

“There’s no way that Bon Bon could be mixed up in this,” Rainbow muttered.

“She tried to frame me for assaulting her and Cardin so that I’d get expelled,” Blake reminded her.

“Which was a jerk move on her part, but it doesn’t make her evil,” Rainbow pointed out. “Or is Cardin working for Salem too?”

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Blake replied. “But … why are you so sure that Bon Bon can’t be involved?”

“Because I’ve known her for years; we were at combat school together.”

“And how well do you really know her after all these years?” asked Ciel softly.

Rainbow’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. “That … okay,” she admitted. “But—”

“But we know her well enough that she doesn’t seem to be capable of … of working with Salem,” Twilight said. “She was never cruel, never … has she been that good of an actor this whole time, to have fooled everyone? Cinder was new to Haven, nobody knew where she was, and she couldn’t keep up the charade for a whole year, but Bon Bon has been doing it for five years now? And would Salem really recruit someone that young?”

“Not to mention the fact that…” Rainbow hesitated. “I mean, in the nicest possible way—”

“She’s not that good?” Blake suggested.

“Yes, exactly,” Rainbow said. “With Cinder, you can see why Salem would want her: she’s pretty hard core; it took the whole of Team Sapphire and Penny to bring her down. Tempest … didn’t do so well against Cinder, but why would she even try if she was working with her—?”

“Perhaps they are not working together?” offered Ciel. “Perhaps Cinder’s willingness to expose her comrades indicates some rift in Salem’s camp? Perhaps Salem is simply one of those who believes that pitting your subordinates against one another in a tooth and claw battle for supremacy produces better results than cooperation and coordination?”

“Maybe,” Rainbow agreed. “But anyway, even Tempest, I guess I could see it, but Bon Bon? Again, in the nicest possible way—”

“You know she’s not actually here to hear this, right?” interjected Twilight.

“Yeah, but still,” Rainbow said. “Why? What does she bring that would be worth having?”

“Miss Bonaventure is Ozpin’s concern, as his student,” General Ironwood said. “He can deal with her, or not, as he wishes. As for Shadow, I’ve ordered Lulamoon and Glimmer to monitor her activities for the time being, make sure that she doesn’t do anything untoward.”

“And is there anything that we can do, sir?” asked Blake. “About … any of this?”

“There’s no need to involve yourself with Shadow,” General Ironwood declared. “And there’s nothing that you can do about the Valish, but in the event that there is a grimm attack, then Dash, Belladonna, Soleil, I want you to get Lady Belladonna and escort her to safety aboard my ship. Councillor Cadenza has her own security detail, but as far as I’m aware, Lady Belladonna is here alone, isn’t that right, Belladonna?”

“Yes, sir, it is,” said Blake.

“Are you going to be watching the finals with your mother in Councillor Cadenza’s box?” asked General Ironwood.

“I wasn’t—”

“Do it,” General Ironwood said. “And see if you can wrangle Soleil an invitation up there as well; if not—”

“I can lurk around the vicinity if need be, sir,” Ciel said.

“Councillor Cadenza’s security detail might have something to say about that,” General Ironwood muttered. “Dash, if … if you have bad luck out there today, make your way up there as well.”

“Understood, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’ll fly my airship up to the Colosseum so we can fly Lady Belladonna out if we have to, instead of relying on a Skybus.”

“The Skybuses that everyone else will be using,” Blake murmured.

“Everyone else isn’t a VIP,” Rainbow said.

“Even so—”

“We can’t afford to lose the High Chieftainness of Menagerie,” the General said firmly. “It’s bad enough that we have to worry about the Valish, without one of the most prominent faunus on Remnant getting eaten by a nevermore on our watch. Stay with your mother, and if need be, get her out. Do you think she’ll accept sanctuary aboard an Atlesian cruiser?”

“Yes, sir, I think she will,” Blake said. “Frankly, I’m more worried that she’ll insist that I stay there with her.”

“If that’s what it takes, do it,” said General Ironwood.

“Sir!” Blake gasped. “I … with all due respect, I don’t want to sit around aboard the Valiant while everyone else is fighting against the grimm.”

“Believe me, Belladonna, I can think of many better uses for your talents,” General Ironwood assured her,“but when high ranking officials and diplomats are involved, sometimes, we have to compromise against our instincts. If you want to rise in rank in the service, you’ll need to learn to sometimes do things you don’t like in order to keep the politicians happy.”

“I … suppose so, sir,” Blake huffed. “I just wish that it wouldn’t start before I’ve actually joined the service, or even the academy.”

General Ironwood chuckled softly. “Trust me, Belladonna, there’ll be plenty more opportunities to display your valour to come, and that’s even if your mother behaves as you’re afraid she will. She might surprise you and let you re-enter the fray.”

“You’re right, sir, that would be surprising,” Blake muttered dryly.

“I know that Councillor Cadance has her own security detail, sir,” Rainbow said. “But it would be easy for me to fly them both out to the Valiant, since they’ll both be coming from the same place.”

General Ironwood nodded. “If it comes to that, do it. Twilight, I’d like you to stick close to Councillor Cadenza today as well.”

“Yes, General,” Twilight murmured. “So the tournament is still going ahead?”

“We can’t call it off, Twilight,” General Ironwood said. “Not without risking a panic, and not without tipping our hand to the Valish. I’m afraid that we have to let this play out, and if Cinder is lying, then we won’t have cancelled one of the biggest events of the year for nothing. But I’m increasing security on the arena and the grounds of Beacon: I’m positioning the Resolution and the Gallant in close proximity to the arena and the school, all forces are on standby for an attack, and … we’re ready for this. If the grimm attack, they won’t take us by surprise.”

“What about the Siren, sir, this … magical monster?” asked Rainbow Dash. “The one that’s the reason we have to worry about the Valish, that’s the reason why the faunus have to tiptoe around. What are we going to do about that?”

General Ironwood sighed. “I’m honestly not sure, Dash. I don’t know who we could put up against a creature like that who wouldn’t be vulnerable to their powers. Ozpin had hope that Miss Shimmer would be able to handle it with the help of her team, but now … Ozpin still intends to reach out to her, but there’s a question mark over whether she’ll do it or not.”

“I don’t think that Sunset will turn down a request like that; it’s not who she is,” Rainbow replied. “But even if she does, that doesn’t mean that we have to do nothing.”

“Ideally, we wouldn’t, but there’s no point in throwing men into battle who’d just get … whatever it is this creature does. We don’t have enough of an idea of its strengths, its vulnerabilities, to know how to stop it. Even if we could find it, rushing in might simply be handing it more weapons to use against us.” General Ironwood paused. “Oz is going to speak to Miss Shimmer about this, and if her own team won’t back her up, then—”

“She can count on us, sir,” Blake said.

“I’ll be sure to tell Ozpin that,” said General Ironwood. “But for now, Belladonna, Soleil, focus on Lady Belladonna as your top priority. And Dash, for now, your priority is the tournament itself. Put on a good show to distract the crowd from all their worries. That’s the point, after all, and never more apposite than in a situation like this.”

Rainbow’s back straightened. “Yes, sir. I won’t let Atlas down, sir.”

“I know,” General Ironwood said. Again, he took a breath. “I know that this isn’t the best news, and I’m sorry that the last day of the tournament can’t only be about that, but don’t worry too much. We’re doing everything we can. That will be all for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said.

General Ironwood walked to the door, opening it. He paused in the doorway, giving Rainbow Dash one last look. “Good luck out there, Dash.”

“Yes, sir!” Rainbow said as General Ironwood shut the door behind him.

A moment of silence followed as the sound of the door closing faded.

Rainbow unclasped her hands from behind her back and let them fall to her side. “A grimm attack, huh?”

“Not exactly unexpected, once one learns that the grimm are already close by,” Ciel observed. “I would call it the most believable part of Cinder’s so-called information.”

“You think the rest isn’t true?”

“It may be,” Ciel allowed. “Or it may not. We cannot say for certain, since Cinder has provided no proof, but equally, we have not looked to convict or vindicate Tempest Shadow or Bon Bon. It is all up in the air. That is why General Ironwood must take precautions in regards to Tempest, as much as in regard to Lady Belladonna’s safety.”

Rainbow glanced at Blake. “Perhaps you should just tell your mom to stay in her hotel.”

“Would she be safer in her hotel, in the middle of a city that might turn hostile, than in the Amity Colosseum surrounded by young huntsmen and huntresses, and with me right there beside her?” Blake asked. “And Sun, too, for that matter.”

“That … is a very good point,” Rainbow admitted. She had been thinking about suggesting that Applejack should keep the others away — there was nothing confidential about saying ‘there are a lot of grimm sat outside Vale, and we’re worried that they might attack’ for the safety of the kids, but Blake did make a very good point.

“All the same,” she said, getting out her scroll, “I’m gonna call Applejack, see if she brought One in a Thousand with her, just in case.”

“That might make the others a little suspicious,” Blake said.

“She can tell them why she’s carrying it, if she likes,” Rainbow replied as she opened up her scroll.

It only took a few flicks with one finger to find Applejack’s number and a single push of a button to call it.

And it only took a couple of seconds after that for Applejack to answer.

“Mornin’, Rainbow Dash,” she said, interrupting herself halfway through for a pretty darn impressive yawn. “What can I do you for?”

“Morning, Applejack,” Rainbow said. “Did you bring your gun with you?”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed just a little bit. “Why?”

“Because there are a lot of grimm sat on their butts outside the Green Line,” Rainbow said. “Now, do you have One in a Thousand or not?”

“Yeah, Ah’ve got it,” Applejack said. “How many grimm are we talkin’ about?”

“Maybe you should bring it with you to today’s matches,” Rainbow said.

“How many grimm are we talkin’ about?” Applejack repeated.

Rainbow Dash took a deep breath in. “A lot,” she admitted.

“And you’re worried they might attack?” Applejack asked.

“The General’s worried about it,” Rainbow said. “He’s got the troops on the front line standing by, the airships, the cruisers, all prepped and ready for him. Sure, maybe they’ll go away, but you know as well as I do that sometimes — a lot of the time — they don’t go away; they go for the throat.”

“And Ah know that we could start bombin’ them right now before they do—”

“In Atlas, sure,” Rainbow said. “But this is Vale; the General’s hands are tied by … politics.” Politics and a magical monster stirring up hate against us. “We have to wait for them to come to us.”

Applejack frowned. “I ain’t heard anything about no grimm until now.”

“I think they’re keeping it covered up so people don’t panic,” Rainbow said.

Applejack huffed. “Panic, panic, panic; you know, sometimes, Ah wish that the high and mighty would stop trying to keep everyone calm by lyin’ to ‘em and start trustin’ folks to be responsible with the truth! 'Don’t wanna cause a panic!' You know, one of these days, what’ll cause a real panic around here is once people work out that they’re being lied to all the live-long day like little kids bein’ told about the Great Seedlin’! It’s enough to make a girl believe in conspiracy theories.”

Twilight chuckled. “Enough for someone who doesn’t have her feet on the ground the way that you do, maybe.”

“Hey, Twilight!” Applejack called. “So you’re here too, huh?”

“And Blake,” Rainbow said.

“Good morning,” Blake said, her voice rising a little bit. “I hope that we didn’t wake you up.”

“Nah, you’re all good, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “And I appreciate you lettin’ me know. Are you sure it’s gonna be safe up on that Amity Arena?”

“Applejack, believe me, if I thought that it would be safer for you to shelter in place, then I would tell you to do just that,” Rainbow said, “but Blake has pointed out — and she’s putting her own mother on the line to prove it — that you’ll be safer in the Colosseum than you will be down in Vale.”

“Is that right, Blake?” Applejack asked.

“Yes,” Blake said as Rainbow turned in place, lifting her scroll upwards so that Applejack could see Blake and Twilight as well as Rainbow Dash herself. “General Ironwood is increasing security in the arena itself and at Beacon against the risk, including two cruisers in close proximity, and I’ll be in Cadance’s box with you and everyone else and Shining Armor, and probably Sun and Ciel as well. And … if there is an attack on Vale, and things get chaotic, then with all of the anti-Atlas and anti-faunus sentiment going around in the city, things could get ugly in the chaos.”

Applejack scratched her head, running her fingers through her straw-coloured hair. “Yeah, I guess you got some good points about that. What about you, Twilight, what are you doin’?”

“I’ll be in the box with Cadance,” Twilight said. “And you, hopefully.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be there, Ah guess Ah can’t stay away, can Ah?” Applejack said. “But what you’re sayin’ is that the arena is safe, but you want to bring mah gun anyway?”

“What I’m saying,” Rainbow replied, “is that the Amity Arena might be the safest place in Vale … but that if you bring your gun with you today, it will be that extra little bit even safer.”

The Eyes of the World, Redux (New)

The Eyes of the World Redux

Terra opened the door. She obstructed a lot of the doorway, so from the living room, Saphron found it easier to see the dog outside than the person holding their lead, but it was a very recognizable dog, and so Saphron could guess who was on the other side of their door even before she heard Terra speak.

“Dad?”

“Mornin’, luv,” cried Cable Cotta cheerily, in that slightly lilting accent that he had. “I told your mother I was taking Snowy here for a walk—”

Snowy barked loudly, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“And I thought that I’d stop by here and see if there was any chance of a brew.”

Terra had laughter in her voice as she stepped out of the way of the door. “Sure thing. Come on in, Dad.”

“Ta, pet,” Cable said, as Snowy bounded in through the doorway, dragging his master on the leash behind him. Cable spotted Saphron in the living room and waved with his free hand. “How do, Saffy?”

Saphron, sat cross-legged on the floor with Adrian in front of her, waved back to him. “Morning, Cab!” She hunched down a little bit. “Look, Adrian, it’s your grandpa!”

Adrian looked up from his crayon drawing, his eyes widening, his mouth forming a smile as a cry of delight leapt from his lips. “Doggie!”

Snowy barked twice, pulling away, wrenching the lead out of Cable’s hands as he bounded down the hall and into the living room, closing the distance to Adrian in a second. He licked Adrian’s cheek and head, nuzzling him with his nose like the baby was a pup of his as Adrian laughed with joy, groping for Snowy’s muzzle with his eager hands.

“I know who he’s happier to see,” Cable observed as he ambled in after the dog, chuckling to show that he didn’t take it personally.

Terra followed her father into the living room; she put one hand upon his shoulder as she stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Well, Dad,” she observed, “Snowy’s face is a little softer on the skin.”

Cable smiled wryly as he rubbed his stubbled chin with one hand. “Aye, well, that’s true enough, I suppose.”

Cable Cotta was a tall man, late middle-aged, with dark skin that was starting to wrinkle with the same years that were turning the stubble on his cheeks to grey. He had the same brown eyes as his daughter, although there were a few more lines around his than hers. A light grey flat cap covered the top of his head, hiding the lack of hair beneath, while he wore a dark grey scarf around his neck, wrapped tight and disappearing into the long camelhair coat in which he was swathed. As he stood in the living room, he pulled off a pair of suede gloves and shoved them into one of his coat pockets.

“While I’m here,” he said, “Rudolph called last night, now that he and Button have inherited that big pile out in the country; he’s thinking about inviting us all to go down there and celebrate Winter Solstice with them.”

“A little bit early to be thinking about that, don’t you think?” asked Terra.

“It’s fall already,” Cable reminded her. “It’ll be here before you know it. I think he wants to get in quick before anyone else makes plans.”

“That, and he wants to show that he can do it,” Terra suggested.

“Is it safe?” Saphron asked. “I mean, an old Mistralian estate with lots of land and no neighbours … at least in the city, you can be pretty sure that that sound you hear outside isn’t a grimm.”

“Rudolph says the grimm don’t trouble them out there,” Cable said. “It’s like the place is protected somehow. Lucky for them, and lucky for me too, or else I don’t know if I’d sleep at night.”

“Well, okay,” Saphron said. “We’ve got time to think about it, right?”

“Sure we have,” Terra assured her. “So, Dad, why did you lie to Mom about where you were going?”

“I could hardly tell her that I needed to get out of the house and stay out for a bit, could I?” asked Cable. “But between you and me, luv, I needed to get out of that house: your mother’s gone mad with all this tournament malarkey, absolutely mad for Mistral; I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

Terra smirked as she folded her arms across her chest. “You do know that we’re supporting Pyrrha, right?”

“Yes, I know, she’s your brother-in-law’s girlfriend — and you should be thankful that I haven’t mentioned that to your mother yet — and I’ll admit that she’s a talented lass, but I knew comin’ round here that you wouldn’t be as bad as it is 'round ours. She’s been playing that song all hours, for a start. Thirty years of hurt? Feels more like thirty years of damage to my ears from listening to that damn song.”

Saphron covered Adrian’s ears. “Cable! Not in front of the baby!”

“Oh, don’t fuss; there’s nothing to worry about,” Cable said, starting to unbutton his coat as he flopped down onto the sofa.

“Da!” Adrian cried.

Terra arched one eyebrow in her father’s direction.

“That was because of you calling me ‘Dad,’ not because of anything I said,” Cable insisted. He paused, shifting his weight on the settee. “Speaking of Pyrrha Nikos, that was her teammate, wasn’t it? The one who fought with her yesterday when they beat those nice Atlas girls? It’s her, the one they’re talking about now on the news.”

"Sunset Shimmer, yeah," Saphron said, her voice becoming a little more muted. She and Terra had woken to the news from Vale, both the good news that Jaune and Pyrrha and their team had captured a wanted criminal — go Jaune! Sure, the news had barely deigned to mention him and almost made it seem like Pyrrha had done it all single-handed, but still, go Jaune! And go Pyrrha too, obviously — and the not so good news that Jaune's teammate had been accused of causing a massive grimm attack on Vale. "Yeah, that's her. Honestly … I don't know; I can't believe what they're saying. We met her, Terra and I, when we went to see my family for my Dad's birthday; she came up too for a couple of days … she didn't seem the type."

"Isn't that what they always say?" asked Cable. "She seemed so nice, she seemed so normal; maybe she kept herself to herself—"

"Dad, you need to stop listening to those true crime towercasts," said Terra. "They're ghoulish, and they skew the way you see things."

"You think they're lying?" asked Cable.

"Come on, Dad, I know you aren't Mistralian, but you've been married to Mom long enough to know how this works," Terra said. "Slander—"

"When it's written down, it's libel," murmured Saphron.

"Either way, it's lies and deceit, and it's as much part of the tournament circuit as promotions or interviews or the fights themselves. It wasn't long ago when Metella was making her run, and there were all those 'sources' accusing her of being White Fang. Or how, about a couple of years ago, there were stories linking Arslan Altan to a couple of unsolved muggings in Mistral? Not to mention that stuff about Pyrrha and the girl they just took down last night. It was all anonymous, all unfounded, all just the same as it is here. It's all … someone's jealous, and they want to take her down a peg, that's all; it's not worth wasting time thinking about." She paused. "Although I will say that accusing someone of causing a grimm attack is certainly a new and more imaginative accusation to throw around."

"Maybe you're right, luv," Cable admitted. "There does seem to be a lot of this. Who'd be a celebrity, eh?" He looked at Saphron. "Have you talked to your brother about all this?"

"What would be the point?' asked Terra.

"No," Saphron replied. "I don't want to bother Jaune about this, especially not today. I want to congratulate him about last night, but I guess that can wait too. The only thing he should be focussed on today is cheering Pyrrha on in the tournament."

"I don't believe it," Leaf declared, folding her arms. "It's all a bunch of crap."

"You're sure about that?" asked Veil.

"Yes!" Leaf cried. "Yes, I'm sure about that, because … because she's my friend. And also way too much of a stick in the mud to do something like that. She didn't think it was a good idea for me to run away without speaking to my mother—"

"Well, that was kind of a—" Veil began.

Leaf didn't let her finish. "You think that she'd try and destroy Vale?"

"According to what they're saying," Veil murmured, "she wasn't trying to destroy Vale; she was trying to save her friends."

"What they're saying," Leaf insisted, "is a lie."

"So you believe what this Skystar Aris is trying to sell now?" asked Veil. "That she wrote an email accusing her own mother of covering up something like that to get back at Sunset for causing her to break up with her boyfriend?"

Leaf shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

"Hmm," Veil murmured. "No comment on that, but to me … it feels like an excuse."

"Then you're wrong," Leaf said flatly. "Sunset … she wouldn't do something like this."

"You met her once; it's not like you know her that well," Veil pointed out.

"I still don't believe it," Leaf said. "If they arrest her, if they find her guilty, then maybe, maybe I'll believe it, but now … I'm not going to just change what I think about someone I like just because the news told me to."

Doctor Diggory had been brought up, many years ago now when he had been as young as Miss Pole and Mister Scrub, to respect authority, to trust in those who had been chosen — whether by election or by more esoteric processes of appointment — to lead Vale and its institutions. He had been brought up to believe that, though such figures might sometimes make minor mistakes, they had the kingdom's best interests at heart and that they got it right far more often than not.

Such youthful naïveté had not survived the maelstrom that was Mountain Glenn. What he had witnessed there, in the founding of the city, in the fighting for it, in all that had followed that tremendous loss … he had not been so young, even then, but he had felt young when he had gone to fight at Mountain Glenn, in ways that he had not felt afterwards. During the attempt to found, to expand, to hold, and finally, to evacuate that doomed endeavour he had witnessed hubris, blindness — partly wilful blindness, which was worse — towards what was going on outside the city limits, stubbornness, deception, and finally, when the battle was done, he had witnessed a cover-up. The Winchester Inquiry into the failings that had led to the fall of Mountain Glenn had used so much whitewash that it could have re-painted Beacon, possibly more than once.

Everyone of note had been exonerated of responsibility; nobody, the report said, could have predicted what had happened at Mountain Glenn, even though Diggory remembered the gradual realisation dawning on them that the grimm attacks were not reducing in scale and number over time, as had been confidently asserted that they would as the grimm recognised Mountain Glenn as human territory; not to mention the fact that it had been fairly obvious that if the grimm attacks continued at that scale or greater, then they couldn’t maintain the perimeter indefinitely — fairly obvious at least a fortnight before the levee finally broke. And yet, despite all of that, the authorities in Vale had continued to advertise Mountain Glenn as a desirable destination, continued to send new colonists out there, continued work on the city.

Failed to evacuate until it was too late and retreat underground was the only option for most.

And then those same authorities had walked away, escaping all blame.

It was safe to say that the scales had fallen from Doctor Diggory’s eyes somewhat as a result of all that. He was no longer so quick to trust what he was being told just because he was being told so by a person in authority.

And so, the fact that First Councillor Aspen was standing in front of the cameras, fervently denying everything, breathing out fiery invective against the press while he did so … it moved Diggory very little.

Not that the press were much better, of course; after Mountain Glenn, they had hacked the devices of the survivors — himself included — in the hopes of digging up stories about the fall and the battle, not to mention listening in on private — sometimes traumatic — conversations. It made him shudder a little just to recall it.

But the press weren’t the ones currently denying that there was any truth to the accusations made against Councillor Emerald, Former Councillor Aris … and Miss Shimmer.

Of the three of them, Miss Shimmer was the one that Doctor Diggory would have most liked to believe was innocent in all of this. She had, after all, saved Miss Pole’s life, and Mister Scrub also; she and her friends had been, it was safe to say, very impressive when they had been here.

But one could be very impressive one moment and do something terrible the next, and if the reports were true, if she had done that unspeakable thing in order to save her friends, well…

Unspeakable, yes, but at the same time … well, that was a test that Doctor Diggory was glad he had not faced when he had been in Mountain Glenn.

He did not wish to think evil on Miss Shimmer, it brought him no pleasure, but at the same time … those denials by Councillor Emerald, those vociferous denials, those aggressive responses.

He had seen too many politicians lie in connection with Mountain Glenn. No doubt, Councillor Emerald would get away with it, the same way that they had all gotten away with it — no, some of them having to resign did not count; some of them ought to have gone to prison for what they’d done — the last time.

But that didn’t mean that Doctor Diggory believed it.

A sigh passed between his wrinkled lips.

“Is everything alright, Doctor?”

Doctor Diggory blinked, recalled from his thoughts by the voice of Miss Pole, standing in the doorway.

He found himself very glad that she and Mister Scrub were too young to take much of an interest in the news; it would be a terrible thing to think that the young huntress who had saved them both was…

A villain? A traitor? A servant of a crooked Council?

Someone who had chosen poorly?

Doctor Diggory forced himself to smile as he got up from behind his desk. “I’m fine, my dear, perfectly fine. Is there something you wanted?”

Miss Pole shook her head. “Mrs. Macready sent me to fetch you, she said breakfast’s ready.”

“Ah! Well, I wouldn’t want to keep Mrs. Macready’s kippers waiting,” Doctor Diggory declared, forcing a bonhomie into his voice that he did not quite feel.

As he followed Miss Pole out of the study, he found himself wishing that he, too, had possessed no interest in the news.

Mallard shuffled in the seat of the van next to Martinez. Her eyes were fixed on the gates to the power plant, but she could feel him moving next to her, hear him scratching against the seat.

“Uncomfortable?” Martinez asked him.

“Sorry, El-Tee,” he said. “My coat was just sticking into the small of my back, that’s all.”

The two of them were sat in the front of what appeared, to the untrained eye, to be a maintenance van, parked outside the Gateshead power station. They were outside the actual gates, watching the metal bars that kept out intruders, while there were another four undercover vehicles parked at various places around the perimeter and tactical units and airships on stand-by if necessary.

Martinez didn’t know exactly what her superiors thought might be necessary; that hadn’t been part of the mission briefing. The only thing that the captain had told her was that orders had come down from the top: guard infrastructure. Apparently, it was such a high priority that they were roping in officers from all departments: Flying Squad, Special Victims, Homicide, they’d all been roped in alongside precinct detectives and uniforms — there were a couple of black and white squad cars parked on either side of the station gates, as a more visible sign of police presence than Martinez and Mallard in their maintenance van.

Someone with a lot of pull had made this happen, and that someone was obviously worried about something; they just weren’t telling cops like Martinez what they were worried about. The White Fang? That was the obvious answer, but at the same time, an unsatisfactory one: the White Fang had been pretty quiet ever since the Breach; they hadn’t heard so much as a peep out of them. Martinez hadn’t heard any whispers about any future attacks, and while that didn’t mean that there weren’t any attacks being planned, it was odd that it should come out of nowhere like this.

While the Breach might have come as a surprise, the White Fang had been building up to something all year up to then; they just hadn’t been sure what they were building up to.

But if not the White Fang, then who? Who else had the resources to require this much security? Honestly, Martinez wasn’t sure the White Fang had the muscle to require this much security, but they came the closest that she could think of. Nobody else … there was some more noise being made about grimm cultists these days, what with that Cinder chick and all, but honestly, in Martinez’s experience, most grimm cultists were idiots who hadn’t grown out of that school phase where you thought black capes and chokers were cool — Mike had some truly execrable pictures of her on his scroll from back then that he was forever threatening to show to the kids — while the few that were actually dangerous were too few and too disorganised — not to mention too socially isolated — to carry out large scale acts of terrorism.

Although she could be wrong about that; Martinez wasn’t wedded to the idea that she was always right.

But it would come out of nowhere for them to be able to pull off something this big, requiring this much force to counter them.

The White Fang was a more likely possibility, but still … didn’t feel right.

Her gut told her that there was a lot that she — that all of them — weren’t being let in on.

She didn’t like that. There wasn’t much that she could do about it right now, but she didn’t like it.

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Mallard said, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Martinez said, not looking away from the gate. She took a sip of her coffee; the flask was keeping it nice and warm for her: it singed her tongue just the way she liked it.

“What do you think about this thing with that Beacon student?” Mallard asked. “The thing with the Breach and all, and the Council.”

“I think it’s very convenient,” Martinez said.

There was a pause. “How do you mean?” asked Mallard.

Martinez hesitated for a second. “About a year ago, just before you joined the Flying Squad, my two boys were kidnapped.”

“Gods,” Mallard murmured. “What…? I mean, they’re okay now, right?”

“Yeah,” Martinez said. “Yeah, they’re fine. They … they barely remember it. They weren’t even that badly treated, thank god.”

She, on the other hand, would never forget. Never forget the way her hands had trembled when she opened the box when it came in the mail, never forget the relief when there was only a shoe inside, mingled with the anxiety that came with it being a shoe she recognised. Never forget the smug voice on the other end of the scroll. Never forget the way that she had hugged them both when she broke down the door in that nice, quiet, ordinary-looking suburban house where they’d stashed the boys.

Never forget the blood on her knuckles or the way he’d mewled in pain as she beat him to a pulp on the elevator ride down to the ground.

“What happened?”

“I’d got word of a heist that would be going down soon,” Martinez explained. “Details were scarce, only that it would involve precious stones. I was asking around, trying to dig up what I could … and they took my sons, picked them up on their way to school, sent me Tyler’s shoe in a box, to prove to me that they had them. Told me to back off, no more snooping around.”

“Did you?” Mallard asked. “Back off, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Martinez said. “Especially not after Featherston was assigned to find my kids.”

“Who?”

“Lieutenant Featherston, Missing Persons,” Martinez said. “Useless, lazy ass, he couldn’t cut it in the Flying Squad, so he transferred into Missing Persons for an easy life. I knew he wasn’t going to find the boys, so I’d have to do it myself.” She paused. “But the point is, the irony is, that when they took the boys, I was nowhere near them. I had no leads, no suspects, I didn’t even know the exact target; I was fumbling around in the dark. But when they took the kids, that told me something.”

“That you’d got close enough to spook them, even if you didn’t realise it,” Mallard said.

“Precisely,” said Martinez. “This allegation, this Sunset Shimmer stuff, this … this is Tyler’s shoe in a box. Someone has gotten close, probably because of the capture of that Cinder Fall, and someone else has gotten spooked by that, so they’re trying to cause a distraction.

“The question isn’t whether or not Sunset Shimmer did anything, almost certainly not, it’s like Skystar Aris said—”

“You believe that she wrote that email for revenge?”

“I think teenage girls can be petty and stupid,” Martinez told him. “I was a teenage girl once, and I was petty and stupid sometimes. The real question is, if we’re all meant to be looking at Sunset Shimmer, what are we not supposed to be looking at?”

Camilla sat down at the island in the centre of the kitchen. “Have you heard this news from Vale, my lord?”

Juturna looked up from her porridge. “'News from Vale'?”

“You may have to be more specific,” Turnus said as he, too, sat down at the island.

“Why?” asked Juturna. “What happened?”

“Pyrrha Nikos won a victory last night, outside the Colosseum,” Camilla explained. “Cinder Fall was vanquished and taken into custody.”

“Really?” Juturna muttered. “Good for Pyrrha. Did she do it by herself, or—?”

“It was said that her teammates made some small contributions,” Camilla replied.

“Which means they did a lot, but of course they won’t get the credit because perfect Pyrrha has to be the hero.”

“You are showing a somewhat unpleasant side to your nature this morning,” Camilla said softly.

“I would like my friend Ruby to get some of the credit for her own accomplishments,” Juturna said. “Is that so wrong? Is that wrong at all? No, no, it isn’t.” She paused. “Mind you, Ruby probably won’t care who gets the credit. ‘As long as we did the right thing, and a bad guy is off the streets, I’m satisfied.’ She’s so … Valish that way. You know, weird.”

“In Atlas, they say that we Mistralians are the strange ones,” Turnus observed. “No doubt, it is the same in Vale.”

“Maybe they do, but they’re wrong,” said Juturna. “We’re Mistral; we’re normal. We are the benchmark. It’s everyone else who’s being odd about stuff. Still, it’s good news for Ruby. And Pyrrha, I suppose. For all of them.”

“The other news was less good,” Turnus said. “Their team leader, Lady Nikos’ favourite, has been accused of causing the Breach in Vale’s defences.”

Juturna’s eyebrows rose. “Wow,” she said. “I did not see that coming.” She sipped from a glass of grapefruit juice. “That is going to kill Ruby. I think.”

“You think?” Camilla said.

“We’re talking about Sunset Shimmer, right?” Juturna said.

“That was the name, yes,” said Turnus.

“Mmm,” Juturna murmured. “You see … it got really hard to say whether Ruby liked her or hated her. Or both, maybe, but … either Ruby will be heartbroken, or she’ll be overjoyed and vindicated. Hopefully, it’s the second one, but it could be the first.”

“Or both, perhaps,” Turnus observed.

Juturna snorted. “Yeah, or both, I guess.”

“Or neither,” Camilla suggested. “The accusation may be false.”

“It may?” asked Juturna. “You mean it isn’t true?”

“If it were true, I wouldn’t have said that it may be false.”

Juturna rolled her eyes. “Then why does it matter? Has she been arrested?”

“The Valish Council — or at least its leader — is denying the truth of it,” said Turnus.

“So it’s a nothing?” Juturna asked. “It’s just … something somebody said to … to what? To make her look bad?”

“According to the girl who wrote the message that was released to prompt the accusation—”

“The what now?”

“Someone wrote an email, then deleted it, but the deleted email was found and released to the public,” Turnus explained.

Juturna’s eyes widened. “That’s possible?”

Turnus raised one eyebrow.

“I am not worried about myself, obviously,” Juturna said, primping at her hair with one hand. “I am … concerned on behalf of other people, like the very thoughtful and considerate girl that I am.”

“Hmm,” Turnus muttered. “Yes, it is possible. So be careful about what you write, even if you don’t send it.” He paused. “In any event, the girl who wrote this deleted message says that she did it to get back at Sunset for an injury done to her love life.”

“By accusing her of causing a grimm attack on Vale?” Juturna cried. “That is … wow, that is so petty that it’s kind of epic. I mean, talk about out of proportion; who is this girl, she sounds awesome?”

“I found her story a little implausible,” Camilla observed.

“Really? I can believe it,” said Juturna.

“Hmmm,” murmured Camilla.

“Okay,” Juturna said, pointing at the both of them. “You have both got to some hmmming at me like that; I am feeling very judged.”

“I’m sorry,” Camilla said softly. “I just … would you really do something like that?”

“Me? No,” Juturna said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t admire someone who has the guts to.”

“Except she didn’t,” Turnus pointed out. “She didn’t send the email.”

“Oh, yeah, right, the deleted thing,” Juturna said. “Okay, I guess that lowers my respect for her a little bit. She’s just like me, thinking about doing stuff that she won’t actually do.”

“In some cases, that is a good thing,” Camilla observed. “In this case, it might have been better if she had not even thought of writing such a message.”

“Even if it were true?” asked Turnus.

Camilla was quiet for a moment. “I am not sworn to Mistral’s service, my lord, I have knelt not before the Steward, I have taken no oath at Haven Academy, my pledge of loyalty is to you and your house. I do not desire to bring ruin and destruction down upon this kingdom, I do not hate Mistral nor consider myself its enemy, but, were the choice to be placed before me, or perhaps I should say, were I to be placed in the choice … I know where my loyalties lie.”

Turnus looked at her across the island. “And yet,” he said, “in such a circumstance, as described—”

“What circumstance?” asked Juturna.

“I would be in one place, and Juturna in another,” Turnus went on. “At least at the time.”

Camilla pursed her lips together. “That is correct, my lord, and in such circumstance, I know the choice that you, and your lord father’s shade, would wish for me to make.” She glanced at Juturna.

“What are you two talking about?” Juturna demanded.

“It is of no consequence,” Turnus said. “And for myself, I am not fond of hypotheticals, especially not ones that purport to shed a light on moral character. Juturna says it is probably all false so, let it be false. More lies spread by dwarfs to bring down giants, as is ever the fate of those who rise too high to suffer calumnies by those who find it easier to envy accomplishment than to accomplish in their own right. We can only hope that too much is not detracted from true accomplishment by green-eyed falsehoods and that Ruby need neither be heartbroken nor vindicated by accusations that are best taken with a liberal pinch of salt.”

The footfalls of Terri-Belle Thrax echoed in the cavernous throne room as she walked down the central colonnade to where her father, sat in his more modest chair before the empty throne, awaited her.

Lord Diomedes’ hands were folded in his lap, clutching at the toga — sea blue, today — that he wore over his armour, creasing it in his palms.

He said nothing, but kept his eyes upon his daughter as she walked towards him, preceded by the echoing sounds of her feet upon the polished floor.

Terri-Belle stopped about eight feet away from her father and knelt down before him. Her head was bowed towards the floor, the braid of her hair falling down over her shoulder.

“You summoned me, my lord?” she asked. “Has the Lord Steward some business for the Warden of the White Tower?”

“Are you so certain that the father does not have business with his daughter?” asked Lord Diomedes, his voice sounding almost wounded by her words.

“If it were so, my lord, could we not have discussed this at the breakfast table?” asked Terri-Belle.

“I wish to discuss this with you alone,” Lord Diomedes declared. “Shining Light and Blonn Di are … adequate, for certain tasks and offices, but limited in their uses. Swift Foot is young, and I must confess that I am doubtful of her quality.”

“I think you underestimate her,” Terri-Belle said.

Lord Diomedes was silent for a moment. “Perhaps,” he said softly. “Perhaps the time will come for her to show her quality. In the meantime, rise, on your feet, my child, and look on me.”

Terri-Belle rose as she was commanded and looked her father full in the face. He had bags beneath his eyes, as though he had slept poorly.

“How was your night, Father?” she asked.

“Restless,” he admitted. “My thoughts were troubled. You have heard the news from Vale?”

Is that what you wished to discuss? “I … if it is what I think you are referring to, I am loath to call it 'news.' Is it not said that, while the farmer sows seeds of grain in the fields, the great lord sows seeds of rumour in the ears of the people?”

“Such is the Mistralian way,” Lord Diomedes allowed. “But this report comes from Vale, not from Mistral.”

“Nevertheless, it is but a report,” Terri-Belle replied. “It may be a false report, sown in our ears. Or do you have additional intelligence to confirm it that I know not of?”

“I know no more than what has been said of Sunset Shimmer, Lady Nikos’ pet, bearer of the black sword Soteria,” said Lord Diomedes. “I know no more than that Lady Kommenos was struck down in Vale one night previous. I know no more than that these are not the first accusations to be made against the House of Nikos; before this, was it not suggested that Pyrrha Nikos herself was in league with Cinder Fall, the architect of Vale’s misfortunes?”

“And then Lady Pyrrha fought with Cinder,” Terri-Belle pointed out, “and bested her.”

“And let her go,” Lord Diomedes reminded her. “Just as she let her live again, having apparently bested her a second time.”

“'Apparently'?” Terri-Belle repeated. “Father, what are you saying?”

“I dare say nothing publicly,” Lord Diomedes said. “Yet I fear greatly. I fear…” He paused. “It is a thought almost too terrible to contemplate, and yet, at the same time…” A smile threatened to prick upon the corners of his wrinkled lips. “Almost too wonderful to be hoped for. I fear the House of Nikos has betrayed us.”

Terri-Belle’s eyes widened. That … that couldn’t … that isn’t possible.

She could see why her father feared it. If Pyrrha had betrayed them, betrayed Mistral, then … quite apart from her personal skill at arms, which was formidable indeed, if people knew that the Evenstar of Mistral, the last flowering of their ancient glory, had betrayed the kingdom that her family had built, then despair would follow. It would be a dolorous blow indeed to the morale of the city; it would … it would rock the very foundations of Mistral itself if the House of Nikos were to turn traitor.

Mistral had suffered too much already; so many blows had fallen upon it from defeat in the Great War, humiliation by the faunus, a decline that no councillors or their policies seemed able to arrest. People in other kingdoms thought that Mistral took the Vytal Tournament, and their lack of success in it, so seriously because they were tournament mad, because they were a bit obsessed, because they were a strange people with strange priorities. There was … some truth in some of that, at least, but it was also what no one said, or no one dared to say: that their failures in the tournament, their doom to be defeated over and over again in something they had invented, was a rather grim representation of the way that Mistral itself seemed doomed to sink lower and lower, until it became, even as one of only four kingdoms, absolutely irrelevant.

This was not a happy kingdom. It had moments of happiness, and Terri-Belle dared to hope that some people were at least somewhat content with their lives, but in the scale of things, this was a kingdom with decay clinging to it.

But it was a kingdom that at least had its heroes. Its celebrities. Its champions. Its reminders of a better time, a nobler time, a bygone age when Mistral had counted for something.

If one of those heroes, the most famous of them at present, turned on Mistral … what would it be but another sign that this was a walking corpse of a kingdom waiting to be put out of its misery?

Yes, Terri-Belle could see why her father feared it. She could also see why he found it enticing, the prospect of being rid of the House of Nikos for good and all. The former masters of Mistral and all its dominions, it had been eighty years now since the last Emperor, Odysseus, had laid down his crown at the end of the Great War, but nevertheless, the House of Nikos had continued to enjoy wealth and a mixture of power and influence, sometimes leaning more towards the latter and sometimes towards the former. The current Lady Nikos had served a stint on the Council, and even when they were not in so official a capacity, the voice of a Nikos carried weight in Mistral still. Meanwhile, the House of Thrax, the former servants, now the masters, were forever reminded that they were Stewards only. The very fact that her father had to sit on a more modest chair before the throne and could never dream of sitting on the throne himself was a visible, eternal reminder of the fact that the House of Thrax could never dream of rising as high as the House of Nikos once had.

The House of Thrax had saved Mistral after the faunus rebellion, deposing Ares Claudandus, making peace with the faunus, establishing the current order that had lasted to this day, and yet what was their reward? A modest chair and a single seat on a querulous, quarrelsome Council.

How many years must pass to make a steward a king, or an emperor? In Mistral, more years than any house would endure. And yet, the House of Thrax had been kings once, in Thrace; twice, they had knelt before the House of Nikos and laid their crowns aside, and even now, the House of Nikos continued to oppress them by the mere fact of its existence.

Yes, Terri-Belle could see also why her father scented opportunity here, to have the House of Nikos attainted and yet, for her … she would not deny that she felt the allure of a crown and untrammelled supremacy in her nostrils, but that sweet smell was far outweighed for her by the stench of fear that came from the notion that her father was suggesting.

“No,” she whispered. “No, I do not believe it. Pyrrha has fought valiantly—”

“To advance her own prestige with the people, perhaps, and lead them astray,” said Lord Diomedes.

“She fought against the karkadann when Mistral had few other—”

“It was necessary for her to establish her legend before she could betray it.”

“No!” Terri-Belle cried. “No, Father, I…” She dared to turn away from her, the tap of her sandals on the floor echoing towards the high vaulted ceiling as she paced a few steps back. “No, Father, I will not think that all the honours Lady Pyrrha has gathered to her brow are nought but … nought but for the purpose of casting them aside; I will not believe it. She is … the hope and expectation of Mistral rests upon her shoulders!”

“That is the point!” Lord Diomedes shouted, rising from his chair. “That is why she would be the perfect dagger at the heart of Mistral, that is why she has done all of this … perhaps.”

Terri-Belle boggled. “'Perhaps'?” she snapped. “You … you speak such terrors and then you say ‘perhaps’?”

“I cannot say that it is not so,” Lord Diomedes said, advancing upon Terri-Belle, reaching out to her with both his wrinkled hands; the rings of gold and silver on his fingers glittered in the light from the sconces on the walls. “Can you say for certain that it is not so? Can you say, without a shadow of a doubt, that there is no threat to Mistral in this?”

“For certain?” Terri-Belle murmured. She wanted to, to be sure, but in all honesty, all that she could say was, “You know that I cannot; I have no window into the souls of men.”

“Then we cannot ignore the possibility,” Lord Diomedes said. “How much rumour can accumulate around a person, around a family, before we start to consider that there may be truth amidst the fog? We cannot ignore the possibility. And we must prepare for it.”

Weiss watched Cardin.

Cardin, in turn, was watching his scroll; to be more precise, he was glowering down at it as the First Councillor’s press conference finished.

“Can you believe this?” he demanded, twisting waist around as he looked at his teammate. “Can you believe that Sunset got Skystar and her mother involved in this too? And Councillor Emerald?”

“So, you weren’t convinced by their explanation?” Weiss asked softly.

“You mean, do I believe that Skystar was prepared to do that to her mother just to get back at Sunset for what she did to me?” Cardin asked. “That would be a boost to my ego, wouldn’t it?” He snorted. “But I know I wasn’t that good of a boyfriend. No, Sunset did it, she told Cou— Mrs. Aris and Councillor Emerald — and Skystar was prepared to rat them all out because … because she’s a good person who wants to do the right thing.”

“Are you sure the right thing is telling everyone that the Councillor’s a liar, and the one before that was a liar and all, and one of the big heroes who defended the Breach, oh, by the way, she caused it?” Russel asked, with the tone in his voice making it clear what he thought.

“You don’t think that the people deserve to know the truth about what their Council is doing?” asked Flash. “Especially since it wasn’t even the whole council making the decision?”

Russel turned his head to look at Flash. “Your mom is … she’s the Atlas Council’s lawyer, right?”

“That’s basically correct, yes,” Flash replied.

“Then isn’t it basically her job to bury all the bodies and cover up everything the Council does so nobody finds out about it?” asked Russel.

“You have a very negative opinion of lawyers,” Flash said.

“Everyone knows that every gangster or toerag made good has a lawyer on call to get them out of trouble; it’s just what they do,” Russel said. “I’m not blaming them — everybody has to make a living — just that there’s no point pretending it’s anything else. Anyway, the real point is that people don’t want to know everything the Council is doing; they just want to feel like everything’s going okay. They want good jobs and some money for a bit of fun at the end of the week and to feel safe. Which isn’t always the same thing as being safe. But finding out all this stuff about the First Councillor wouldn’t have made anybody feel safe, and it had already happened, so it wouldn’t have helped anybody to be safe either, so … what’s the point?”

“The point is that Sunset did this!” Cardin snapped. “Sunset did it—”

“You’ve no proof of that,” Weiss pointed out. “And everyone’s word goes against it.”

“I can believe it,” Flash said. “Sunset has … Sunset’s changed, but … she was always the kind of person who valued people above … values, I guess? And while she has changed, I don’t think she’s changed that much.”

“Hmm,” Weiss murmured. She supposed that, between them, Cardin and Flash ought to know. Cardin knew Skystar, after all, and Flash had known Sunset. So if they said that Skystar would do this but wouldn’t do that, and that Sunset would do something else, then she would have to take their word for it, not knowing either of the two well enough to say for herself.

“Regardless of whether it’s true or not, we aren’t going to challenge the official narrative, of course,” she said.

“What?” Cardin snapped, looking at her with his eyes widening. “We’re not going to what?”

“We’re not going to make a stink about this,” Weiss said. “The First Councillor has spoken. Skystar Aris has spoken. The fact that you don’t believe her is neither here nor there. If they are lying, then someone else will uncover the truth, or not, if they don’t think it worthwhile to do so: Professor Ozpin, maybe, or another member of the Council, or … someone. This isn’t our problem; in fact, it’s a problem we could do without.”

“Not our problem?” Cardin repeated. He got up off his bed, casting a long shadow across the room. “As huntsmen, all problems—”

“Are you really going to start lecturing me on how to behave like a huntsman?” Weiss asked tartly.

“Maybe someone should,” Cardin replied.

“Then explain to me how it is the job of a huntsman — a student huntsman, no less — to contradict one of Vale’s councillors, its leading councillor?” Weiss asked.

“This isn’t Atlas,” Russel pointed out. “We’re not soldiers; we’re not here to bootlick to blokes in power just because they’re big guys with fancy titles or nothing.”

“No, Russel, we’re here to fight the grimm,” Weiss said. “With occasional forays into fighting the White Fang or other criminal riff-raff. We might not be explicit servants of the powerful, but we aren’t here to challenge or police them either, not even in Vale.” She paused. “Nor are we here to persecute our fellow students, something that we have unfortunate form and reputation in already.” She glared at Cardin a little. “Speaking of reputation, ours doesn’t stand so high at the moment, so I can’t imagine that our intervention would be welcome by anyone who shares your doubts about this story.

“You can all think whatever you like about this, but we are going to keep our thoughts to ourselves. This … none of this has anything to do with us—”

“Doesn’t it have to do with your Atlas friends?” Russel asked.

“Yeah, with Rainbow and Twilight and the others,” Flash said. “If Sunset has lied to them—”

“What makes you think they don’t already know?” Weiss asked softly.

Flash fell silent at once, his mouth hanging open but no words emerging.

“I’m not accusing them of anything,” Weiss went on. “Quite the contrary, as they are my friends,” — and as the number of friends that I have isn’t so large — “I have no desire to accuse them of anything. If they feel that they have been betrayed, I’m sure that they will deal with it appropriately without us blundering in where we aren’t needed — unless, of course, they need our help, in which case, I’ve no doubt they will ask for it.” As Rainbow and Blake did before. “But until or unless that happens, this is nothing whatsoever to do with us, and I, for one, think that we are better off out of it.”

Lords and Ladies (New)

Lords and Ladies

Leonardo Lionheart felt sick to his stomach.

That was, unfortunately, not an uncommon feeling for him these days, but it felt particularly bad right now as he rushed up and down his bedroom, throwing things into a bag.

He had never been a particularly tidy person, that was why his office was full of stuff crammed into every space imaginable, and it was also why he was now struggling to find anything. So many drawers and cupboards! Why did he have so many?

Why did he have so many places to put things but not have a system so that he could easily find them again afterwards?

It was especially hard to find things given that he felt as though he could barely stand up straight; the excruciating pain in his stomach was so sharp that it was only when he bent double that it eased off even a little.

And no, the milk of magnesia had not really helped.

Ironically, the constant rooting around for the things he wanted was helping, since it kept him hunched over while he looked in drawers.

If he couldn’t find what he was looking for, then he would have to leave it behind. He couldn’t linger here while he searched every nook and cranny of his rooms until he had everything he wanted.

At a certain point, he would have to be content with what he needed.

And at a certain point, he would have to do without even all of that.

His scroll lay open on the bed, the screen displaying a news item. Most of what was written there was of little interest to him — things about one of Pyrrha’s teammates and goings on in Vale — but what was of great interest to Lionheart, what had driven him to start packing, was the fact that Cinder Fall had been captured last night.

She had been taken alive.

Lionheart didn’t know what, if anything, she might be telling Ozpin — or have already told him, rather — but Lionheart had no doubt that Ozpin had questioned her already, and if she had chosen to, then she could have told Oz that it hadn’t been an accident that he had accepted her into his school. That he had done it because … because they were on the same side.

She could also tell Oz that he had told her about Amber too: about Amber, about missing Persephone, about Sophia, and Luna.

Luna. I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.

And if she told Ozpin all of that…

Just the thought of it made Lionheart start to hyperventilate. Ozpin was going to kill him! And that wasn’t a metaphor either; Ozpin was actually going to kill him!

Well, he would probably send Qrow to do it — that was the only one whom Lionheart could imagine being Oz’s executioner — but that was a very fine distinction, one too fine for Lionheart to really appreciate.

Yes, it was possible that Cinder hadn’t — wouldn’t — say anything to Ozpin about his involvement, but Lionheart wasn’t going to wait around on the off-chance that she would keep silent. He wasn’t going to wait here until he was woken up to find Qrow sitting at his bedside waiting to cut his throat. He was going to get out of here. He was going … he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. His mind had gotten as far as the train station, where he would catch a train going as far from Mistral as it was possible to go.

Actually, that would be Argus, and that wasn’t a very good idea; James’ people could find him there too easily. No, he would go … he could go west, to Kaledonia. Or south, he could go to Menagerie! He was a faunus, he had the right to return, and with no CCT connection, nobody would know who he was. He could be anyone that he wanted to be, just a lion faunus in his late middle age, come from Mistral to the homeland of his people. Genteel, mildly discursive with a hint of reserve, someone who had led an uninteresting life and had no great story to tell; a schoolteacher from an institution of no great note, you’d probably never heard of it.

Would that had been my life, and I’d never gotten involved in all of this.

Yes, yes, he would go to Menagerie. Ozpin would never even think to look for him there, and even if he did, it wasn’t as though Oz had any other faunus whom he could send there to get him.

Yes, Menagerie was the place. He would get a train to Piraeus and then get the first ship going south. He would be free, not only of Ozpin but of Mistral and all these old bloods with their proud names and prouder histories who looked down upon him so. He would be free of the burden that Ozpin had laid upon him, of being a one-faunus poster for the benefits of tolerance and integration.

He would be free of them all.

So long as he could finish packing and be out of here before Qrow arrived.

Lionheart’s scroll went off. He ignored it. He didn’t have time to answer calls right now.

Why would he want to? He was leaving it all behind.

The scroll continued to go off, buzzing annoyingly, incessantly, like a hive of bees that had taken up residence in his room — with the state it was in, that wasn’t impossible. Lionheart continued to ignore it. He didn’t have time, and eventually, whoever it was would—

The scroll answered itself, and the mellifluous voice of Arthur Watts emerged into Lionheart’s bedroom.

“Have I caught you at a bad time, Leo?” Watts asked. “Packing, perhaps?”

Lionheart froze. How… is he…? Without moving his body at all — in part because he didn’t want to be seen to look, and in part because he was afraid that if he moved, he was going to lose his lunch — he tried to glance at the corners of the ceiling to see if there were any concealed cameras there he hadn’t noticed until now.

“Am I spying on you, Leo?” Watts asked, in a voice that sounded even more smug than usual. “Do I have you completely under observation? Or are you simply that predictable?”

Lionheart’s first attempt to speak came out as an incomprehensible, barely audible croak. He swallowed and tried again. “What do you want from me, Arthur?” he demanded. “If Cinder—”

“Yes, that is an unfortunate business, isn’t it?” Watts asked. “I did try to tell our mistress that a Mistralian drama queen with an ego the size of the mountain was not the best choice for an agent … but I’m certainly not going to remind her that I told her so.”

“If she tells Ozpin—”

“Yes, I imagine that wouldn’t be very good for you, would it?” Watts asked. “It wouldn’t be very good for me either. But neither would you running away to … Argus? No, no, you wouldn’t risk James finding you there. You were planning to go…” He chuckled. “Leo, were you planning to go back to the old country and reinvent yourself on Menagerie?”

Lionheart swallowed. “N-no.”

“So predictable,” Watts muttered. “We have been good enough to grant you a second chance, Leo; don’t be so naïve as to believe that you’ll get a third.”

“I can’t stay here,” Lionheart whispered.

“You can’t stay in Haven,” Watts allowed. “But you can’t leave Mistral either.”

“Why not?” Lionheart asked. “I … I could leave you the key to the vault; you could come and get it?”

“And race Ozpin’s agents for it, not to mention Lady Terri-Belle or anyone from Mistral itself who might come by to see where you are?” Watts asked. “No, Leo, you will stay … more or less where you are, and when the time is right, you will open one of the doors into the Vault of the Spring Maiden so that the Spring Maiden, when we find her as we most certainly will, may retrieve the Relic.”

“I’ll be dead by then!” Lionheart cried.

“You will be perfectly safe,” Watts assured him, putting on a soothing voice as though Lionheart were a baby he were trying to get back to sleep. “I’ve made arrangements with a friend for you to lie low with them for a while. All you have to do is get there quickly, don’t let anyone find out that you’re there, and await further instructions. Trust me, everything will be fine. More importantly for you, you will be fine.”

Juturna floated down the hallway, a cloud of mist. It was … she didn’t really like to think too hard about how her semblance worked, to be honest. Don’t get her wrong, it was a cool semblance that let her turn pretty much invisible, incorporeal, but which also included her clothes as well so that she didn’t end up naked after she was done like in some crappy comic book, but … like … where was her brain? She could think as she was floating down the hallway, but … how? What was she thinking with?

She had no idea; that was why she didn’t like to think about it.

She was using her semblance because she wanted to check that Turnus was alone before she talked to him. Or at least, she wanted to make sure that Camilla wasn’t there. If he was with Lausus, that would be fine, and if it was Ufens, or Euryalus, or Messapus, or one of the guys and girls, then all she needed to do was ask for some privacy, and then Turnus would nod his head and they’d say ‘of course, m’lady’ and then they’d shuffle out the door and close it behind them and that would be that.

But Camilla … Juturna liked Camilla, Juturna loved Camilla, but she didn’t want Camilla to be here for this; she didn’t want Camilla to find out about this until it was a done deal, because…

Because Camilla was too smart for Juturna’s good sometimes.

Not always, thank gods, but … sometimes.

Juturna was just a little worried that if Camilla was there, then she would ask too many questions. Not that Turnus wouldn’t ask questions, but … Juturna could handle that.

She thought she could, anyway. She was pretty sure she could.

It had been a little surprising to get a call from Doctor Watts — after he’d sent her a text first — asking her for a favour, and it had been kind of surprising to find out what the favour was — he knew Lionheart, who’d have thought? — but it honestly wasn’t a very big favour. Just keep Lionheart in their house where no one could get at him, and keep him a secret too. The first was no big deal, the second … well, there was the issue that one of the guys might let it slip out by accident, but once Turnus took him in, none of them would intentionally sell Lionheart out; they were too loyal to her brother. So that should be okay too.

She wasn’t quite sure why Lionheart needed to come and hide out in their house — Doctor Watts hadn’t said — but she was pretty sure that she could figure out an explanation to convince Turnus to go along with it.

That was another reason why she was using her semblance to move along: it moved kind of slowly, and it gave her more time to think.

However she was thinking.

It wasn’t much to ask, considering that Doctor Watts had really helped them out over the Heart of Mistral — it would have been really embarrassing for Turnus, maybe even dangerous, if he’d come home empty-handed and had to face the Steward with the fact that Elagabalus had stolen the jewel and gotten clean away — but, thanks to Doctor Watts, Turnus had been able to give the Heart to the Steward, and now, it was the new prize exhibit in the Mistralian Museum, and Turnus was a hero for foiling the attempt by wicked Lord Kiro to steal it.

They’d gone to the gala at the museum to unveil the Heart as part of the collection. It had been pretty fun, actually.

Lausus had worn a green tuxedo with a purple shirt, and surprisingly, it did not look that bad. In fact, it actually looked pretty good on him.

They’d danced.

Yeah, it had been a pretty good night.

And all thanks to Doctor Watts, who had recovered the Heart of Mistral for them.

Compared to that, well, ‘let this guy stay at your house’ wasn’t much to ask.

Yeah, okay, there was the fact that the reason he had to hide out with them was because somebody was after him, but so long as nobody knew he was here, then what was the problem? It was called 'hiding' for a reason; it wasn’t like anybody was going to know that he was in their house.

And if they found out … so what? Who was going to break into the House of the Rutulus to get him? You’d have to be nuts.

Doctor Watts was just asking for them to have another house guest, and what was one more with the number of people already staying here?

Juturna just needed to convince Turnus of that, without mentioning Doctor Watts at all.

Which was why she didn’t want Camilla to be there, because she didn’t like the Atlesian doctor much and probably wouldn’t appreciate paying him back for all the help he’d been, and it would really just be easier if she wasn’t there for this.

So long as she could talk to Turnus alone, then she’d be fine.

As there was a little time left before the finals of the Vytal Tournament got underway, Turnus was in his study, going over a few things.

In particular, he was tracking the progress of his order with the SDC.

He felt a little bit dirty buying from them, what with the revelations that had come out about what they’d been doing to the faunus at some of their facilities. But, on the other hand, one could also argue that the bad actors had been arrested and that the company itself had already been punished, so there was no point in continuing to boycott them when the company, and those who remained working there, like Calla, were blameless.

One could also bring up the more pragmatic fact that there weren’t many other players when it came to military grade robotics. Yes, MARS had something of a line in that area, but Turnus had never really liked MARS. He supposed he couldn’t quite trust them to be selling their clients the good stuff, as opposed to keeping it back for themselves and selling only the crap that they wouldn’t mind facing across the battlefield. At least the SDC was only interested in money; he could never shake the feeling that MARS had an ulterior motive.

On top of which, some of their gear was a bit of an eyesore to look at.

Which meant it was back to the SDC, such was the dearth of other competitors. Most Mistralian arms manufacturers were rather artisanal and small scale, and while there was nothing wrong with that, they didn’t have the products that he was interested in, and in Atlas, of course, the SDC had crushed all competition.

Vale … there was a Valish organisation which might be moving into that area, but from what they were offering they weren’t there yet.

No, it was the SDC, really. Thankfully, it seemed that the bad apples had been purged from the organisation, and he had sold his shares, at a loss to himself no less, which salved his conscience a little in giving them more of his lien.

He told himself that he wouldn’t care who the manufacturer was once the toys arrived, and he felt that he told himself honestly, because just tracking the package, he felt like he was waiting for his birthday.

He had ordered two Paladins — one for Juturna, one for someone else who had yet to be selected — and four spider droids, two with laser cannons and two with missile launchers.

He could hardly wait for them to arrive; once they did, Rutulian Security would possess an armoured fist capable of bringing down a hammer blow upon anyone who might stand against them, just as the skimmers that he had on order from Vulcan — Mistralian firms were capable of meeting some of his needs — would give them a swift strike capability.

He was thinking about commissioning an airship too. After all, Mistral was getting some. Now that the kingdom was beginning to rearm, Rutulian Security needed to tech up in order to remain competitive.

Plus, it would be very cool to have them.

Apparently, his order had been shipped. It had not, however, made it as far as the sorting depot in Argus. It was, according to the latest email from the SDC, somewhere between Atlas and Argus.

That information was not as helpful as it could have been. There was a lot of distance between Atlas and Argus.

He was eager, very eager, to see them arrive. Now that Camilla had persuaded him to let her give it a try, he was keen to see how Juturna would—

“Hey, bro!” Juturna cried, as she materialised in his office. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking some emails,” Turnus said, turning off the computer as he looked at her. “Why didn’t you use the door?”

“You could have acted a little surprised,” Juturna said, pouting.

“I was surprised that you didn’t use the door,” Turnus pointed out.

“I wanted to use my semblance; I don’t get a lot of opportunities,” Juturna said. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course,” Turnus replied. “Longer, if you like.”

“Great,” Juturna said, but then didn’t say much else for a few seconds. She swung her arms back and forth, back and forth, sometimes clapping her hands together in front of her, but not speaking.

Turnus’ brow furrowed a little. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah!” Juturna said. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Everything’s awesome. I just need a little favour, that’s all.”

“A favour?” Turnus repeated, wondering why Juturna needed to ask. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have her own money — or at least, she had her own credit card, with a generous spending limit. “Is it money?”

“No, it isn’t money; I don’t spend that much,” Juturna said. “It’s not like I’m buying custom airships or Atlesian robots.”

“Those are a business expense,” Turnus declared. “So what is this favour then? And why do you need to feel the need to ask?”

“Because … you see, the thing is that I have this friend, and they’re in a little bit of trouble—”

“And you want us to provide protection.” Turnus said. “Or is it something more aggressive, or both?”

“More the first, but not the way that you’re thinking of it,” Juturna said. “I’d like you to let them come and stay here for a while.”

“I see,” Turnus murmured. “That isn’t our usual service, but … I suppose that we can make an exception for a friend of yours.”

It might be nice to have a friend of Juturna’s around the place, not least because it would give Turnus a chance to meet her. The fact that she wanted to stay with the Rutulians suggested that whatever trouble she was in was at least somewhat serious — more serious than a nasty boyfriend or some such — or at least that she thought it was serious, but it was unlikely to be anything they couldn’t handle.

How much trouble could a friend of Juturna’s have gotten into?

“Great!” Juturna cried. “He’ll be—”

“'He'?” Turnus said. “'He'?”

He had assumed — naively, perhaps — that Juturna’s friend would be a girl, someone around her age, someone like Ruby, perhaps, but less competent. Now, the more unwelcome image of a boy loomed in his mind. A boy with tattoos, perhaps. A boy who ran with the wrong crowd. One of those Vacuan gangsters trying to muscle in on the lower slopes. An unsuitable boy, who had gotten into all kinds of trouble.

Turnus got to his feet. “Who is this boy, and what’s his name?”

Juturna chuckled. “I wouldn’t really call him a boy—”

“His name,” growled Turnus.

Juturna took a deep breath. “It’s Professor Lionheart.”

Turnus stared at her. He breathed in and out, his chest rising and falling. Professor Lionheart. Headmaster of Haven Professor Lionheart.

Middle-aged man Professor Lionheart.

Professor Lionheart, who was old enough to be Juturna’s father.

Shock was replaced by anger, anger roaring like fire through his blood. His hands itched, and he became far more aware of the presence of Eris, his sword, hanging on the wall. He could feel it whispering in his ear, eager to taste the blood of Professor Leonardo Lionheart.

For what he had done, he hardly deserved the chance to die honourably; indeed, for the sake of Juturna’s reputation, it would be best not to face Lionheart in a duel; people might wonder what had provoked it. It might be better to just kill him, the way he had dealt with his Atlas teammates. Kill him, dispose of the body, and let the world wonder what had become of Professor Lionheart.

But first … alongside the anger, there was also concern, water against the fire of his anger, concern for Juturna.

Juturna, who, unlike Lionheart, was actually standing before him.

Turnus used his semblance to make himself seem smaller, closer to Juturna’s own height. He reached out, putting one hand upon her arm.

“Juturna,” he said, and then had to stop and think. He envied Camilla her way with words, especially in these situations. “Juturna, I … I don’t know what Lionheart has said to you to make you feel … the way that you feel, but … at your age, and at his age, it isn’t right that—”

“Ew, ew, EW!” Juturna cried, recoiling away from him. “Is that what you think, ugh!”

“What am I supposed to think?” Turnus demanded.

“Not … that! Gross!” Juturna yelled. “He’s really old.”

“I know he is; why do you think I wasn’t happy about it?”

“You mean that if there was someone younger, you would be happy about it?”

“Juturna, why does Professor Lionheart need to come and hide in our house?” Turnus demanded. “Why do you want Professor Lionheart to come and hide in our house; how do you even know him?”

“We’ve met,” Juturna said. “He was at that party that me and Camilla went to when you were away, when I met Ruby.”

“And you’ve … kept in touch with him?”

“Not regularly,” Juturna said. “We say hi every now and then.”

And I didn’t realise. Neither did Camilla, for that matter. I need to pay more attention.

“Very well,” Turnus muttered. “Why does he need to come here?”

“He needs a place to hide,” Juturna said.

“Hide from who?” Turnus asked.

Juturna took a breath. “He told me that he owes money to some pretty bad people, and he can’t pay them back, and now they’re coming to collect. His body parts, if they can’t get their money.”

“Shouldn’t the Headmaster of Haven be able to protect himself against loan sharks?” Turnus asked. “And even if he can’t, if he does need protection, then he can hire Rutulian Security like everyone else.”

“He can’t afford it,” Juturna said. “He doesn’t have any money, remember; that’s his problem.”

“And he can’t ask any huntsmen, perhaps some of his old students, to help him, because—”

“Because it’s huntsmen who are after him,” Juturna said. “The bad guys have hired them. That’s why he’s going to lie really low and not come out and be absolutely our secret that he’s here, but he can’t just have a hiding place in case he gets caught; he also needs someone who can protect him if the worst comes to the worst.”

“You mean if the worst comes to the worst, he’s going to put this house and everyone who lives in it in danger?” Turnus asked. “Including you?”

Juturna rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to let me pilot a mech, you should probably stop treating me so much like a kid.”

“There’s a difference between inviting you to put a substantial amount of armour plate between yourself and harm, and exposing you to danger in this place, where you should be safe,” Turnus replied. “Here in our house, in Father’s house. The place he left for me to protect.” He reached out to his little sister again, this time putting his hand upon the back of her neck. “Along with you.”

Juturna smiled slightly. “He won’t be any trouble.”

“That’s not what you made it sound like.”

“He won’t,” Juturna insisted. “Nobody is going to know that he’s here. He’ll stay in the house, he’s not going to make any calls, he’ll send a proxy along to Council meetings and communicate with the Lord Steward through emails only—”

“Won’t he need to attend Haven at least some of the time?”

Juturna shrugged. “What’s anyone going to do if he doesn’t show up? Nobody’s going to know where he is.”

“The Council might ask him in a reply to one of his emails,” Turnus suggested.

“And he won’t tell them,” Juturna replied. “Honestly, this isn’t going to be any trouble at all, I promise. In fact, it’ll be a good thing; it’ll be great! We’ll have our own Councillor, living right here under our roof! Come on, you’re always talking about how badly things are run and how Mistral needs to change, how things can’t just go on as they are! Well, now’s your chance to start making changes. Since Lionheart’s living here with us, you can make him do whatever you want—”

“He would be my guest, not my hostage,” Turnus pointed out.

“Okay, yeah, fine, but still,” Juturna said. “You can talk to him, you can put your ideas to him, and what he’s he going to do, tell you no? When you’re hiding him? Think of the power!”

“Influence,” Turnus said. “Not power.”

But, slightly pedantic wording quibbles aside, Juturna made a good point.

She made a very good point, one of the best points that Juturna had ever made, to be honest. To have the opportunity — the sole opportunity — to lobby a member of the Council, exclusively, for some time … it was the next best thing to running for office.

It might even be better, since he didn’t have to go through the tiresome rigmarole of offering himself up to the people for their approval.

Juturna might be right, provided that it was safe.

“He will do exactly as you say,” Turnus said. “He will stay entirely inside the house; he will not leave for any reason until the danger is passed. Not to go to dinner, not to visit friends, not to go shopping, not for any reason. Nobody will know he is here aside from this household.”

“Uh huh,” Juturna said. “It will be like he just … disappeared. Except for the emails.”

“Yes,” Turnus murmured. “The emails.” He would hire someone to see if their computers could be made more secure, in case anyone tried to trace one of said emails. He paused. “Very well,” he said. “He may enter.”

“Alright!” Juturna cried. “This is going to work out just fine. You will not regret this, I promise.”

There was someone in the elevator with Sunset, a member of the hotel staff with a purple velvet waistcoat on over his shirt.

He didn’t look at Sunset as they rode the lift upwards, not once. He didn’t even glance at her.

Thanks to her spell, he didn’t even know that Sunset was there.

Sunset was exceedingly glad that she had that spell in her arsenal. She might have come up with it for Pyrrha’s sake, but it was certainly getting a workout on her own behalf over the last couple of … no, it was all today, wasn’t it? It was still today.

It was the same day when her world had fallen apart.

This was the hotel where Lady Nikos was staying; Sunset was taking the elevator up to see her. She just hadn’t wanted to be noticed on the way up here. Fortunately — or not so fortunately, considering that she had literally used magic to fix it — nobody had noticed her.

That had made getting into the lift a little bit of a challenge, as you needed one of those keycards to call the lift from the ground floor, but Sunset had just waited for some member of staff, like her travelling companion, to need to go up and hitched a ride with him.

The lift came to a stop, two floors down from where Sunset needed to go.

The doors opened, grinding and rumbling a little. The hotel employee got out, and three guests — man, woman, and child — got in.

Sunset squeezed herself towards the side of the elevator, getting out of the way of the buttons as the man, middle-aged and going bald on top of his head, pressed the button for the floor above the one that she aimed at.

“I hope they’re ready,” said the man to the woman. “We haven’t got long.”

“Oh, we’ve got time, don’t worry,” the woman replied. “Even if we’re a little bit late, they’ve got to announce all the contestants first and all that; the fights won’t start right away. Besides, they might be a bit delayed because of all this.”

“All what?” asked the man.

“Oh, you know, all this, on the news.”

“No, that’s just a load of bollocks, isn’t it?” the man declared. “Someone playing a prank, that’s all; everyone knows it’s rubbish. I mean, if you were going to do something like they’re supposed to have done, you wouldn’t talk about it where someone’s daughter could hear, would you? That’s just ridiculous! And that girl just made it up for some attention. Kids these days.” He ruffled the little boy’s mop of golden hair. “Isn’t that right?”

I wonder how representative you are of the general population? Sunset thought to herself.

The lift stopped again, on Sunset’s floor.

The man started to get out, but was forestalled by the voice of the woman. “This isn’t our floor.”

“Isn’t it?” the man asked, as Sunset squeezed past him to gain the corridor.

“No, this is floor eleven; we want twelve.”

“Then what are we stopped at floor eleven for?”

“You must have knocked the button,” the woman said, as the door closed behind Sunset, and obscured any other words that might have passed between them.

Sunset looked up and down the corridor. She could see no one, either ahead or behind. The doors were all closed; there was no rattle of hotel trolley with laundry or fresh glasses or anything like that. It was all clear, for the moment.

Nevertheless, Sunset kept the spell up until she was actually standing in front of the door to Lady Nikos’ hotel room, at which point, she had to drop the spell, or nobody would actually answer said door.

So she dropped the spell, letting the cloak of anonymity fall away from her as she glanced up and down the corridor again to make sure that nobody had suddenly emerged to spot her.

Thank Celestia, nobody had.

Sunset rapped smartly upon the door, her tail twitching impatiently behind her as she could not keep from sneaking furtive glances first one way, then the other, could not stop making sure that there was no one there to see.

I suppose I will have to let somebody see me at some point.

Just not right now.

The door opened, and in the doorway stood Lady Nikos’ maid, Hestia.

I hope it’s Hestia, anyway. I’m fairly sure it is.

Sunset cleared her throat. “Good morning,” she said.

Hestia — if it was Hestia — smiled a little as she curtsied. “Good morning, Miss.”

What is she smiling about? “Um … I believe that Lady Nikos is expecting me,” Sunset murmured. The summons from Pyrrha’s mother had been rather direct, a single word: Come. She hadn’t said ‘come at once,’ but that had nevertheless been the clear implication.

The smile remained on Hestia’s face as she said, “Yes, Miss. Please come in.”

She stepped aside, admitting Sunset into the parlour of Lady Nikos’ luxurious suite. It was much as it had been when Sunset and Jaune had escorted Lady Nikos here, only now, there was a pot of something and a tray of pastries sitting on the little table near the armchair.

Hestia closed the door behind Sunset. “Miss Sunset Shimmer to see you, ma’am.”

Lady Nikos was standing at the window, her ebony walking cane gripped in both her wrinkled hands, looking out of said window across the part of Vale that surrounded them.

“Thank you, Hestia,” Lady Nikos said. “That will be all for now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hestia replied, curtsying before she walked with brisk steps into her adjoining quarters, closing the door behind her.

Silence fell in the parlour. Sunset stood where she was, not moving, not speaking either, just standing there, with Soteria and Sol Invictus slung across her back, waiting.

“Good morning, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said, not turning away from the window.

Sunset swallowed. “Good morning, my lady.”

Lady Nikos turned her head to look at Sunset. “You will appreciate, Miss Shimmer, that I awoke this morning to a few surprises.”

“I can imagine, my lady.”

“First, I discover that, last night, Team Sapphire engaged, defeated, and finally captured Cinder Fall,” Lady Nikos said. “I must say, either you or Pyrrha might have let me know of such a triumph before I discovered it on the morning news. I expect such callous lack of thought from Pyrrha, but I had hoped for better from you.”

Sunset could not help but smile a little. “A thousand pardons, my lady, but after the battle was won, we then had to accompany Cinder to the police station, where Pyrrha and I were … present for her interrogation, and then…” The smile slid off her face. “Then other matters waylaid us and drove such thoughts out of my mind — and Pyrrha’s too, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Lady Nikos murmured. Her voice rose. “But before we get into that, Miss Shimmer, congratulations upon your victory.”

“Team Sapphire’s victory, if it please my lady.”

“And you are part of Team Sapphire, are you not?” Lady Nikos asked, but pushed forward before Sunset could correct her upon that point. “How was it? The news was frustratingly vague upon the details.”

“Cinder … was a veritable tiger,” Sunset said. “But, to speak true, my lady, I can recall very little of the details; it was … somewhat chaotic. But some brave fools out on the street that night were filming; I am sure there will be a recording of the battle out on the net if you care to look.”

“I would rather not trawl through video hosting sites,” Lady Nikos replied, over-enunciating the words as though they needed a wash. “I have done so, on occasion, searching for recordings of Pyrrha’s battles, but I cannot say I enjoyed the experience.” She sucked in a breath. “‘Pyrrha Nikos is garbage, and here’s why.’”

Sunset frowned. “My lady?”

“A video, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “The first video that comes up when one searches ‘Pyrrha Nikos.’ Utterly ridiculous. I may have Hestia do the searching for me.”

“That seems eminently sensible, my lady.”

“Do these people have nothing better to do?”

“It would seem not, my lady.”

“But enough of that,” Lady Nikos said. “Is there aught that you can tell me of the battle? Did Pyrrha strike the final blow?”

“I fear not, my lady, but the final blow would never have been struck had Pyrrha not been holding Cinder still long enough for Penny to take aim.”

“Penny,” Lady Nikos repeated, frowning a little. “Penny Polendina, of Team Rosepetal of Atlas?”

“The very same, my lady; she was with us in the battle.”

“Ah,” Lady Nikos said. “I say again, Miss Shimmer: congratulations. It is a pity that your triumph of last night has become … somewhat overshadowed.”

“Yes,” Sunset murmured. “Yes, I … I regret that too, my lady.”

Lady Nikos nodded. “Miss Shimmer,” she said, “I am going to ask this once, and I expect an honest answer—”

“It is true, my lady,” Sunset said, before she could finish. “If that is what you would ask. If not, I fear I have made myself look foolish.”

“No, Miss Shimmer, you were quite correct,” Lady Nikos said. “So … you were in that tunnel, pursued by a grimm horde, and you…”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And if you had not … Pyrrha … Pyrrha would have… ‘they looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return,’” Lady Nikos whispered.

Sunset’s tail drooped down listlessly behind her. “That was my fear, my lady.”

Lady Nikos nodded. Her face was expressionless. “Miss Shimmer, will you come here? I would come to you, but my leg is feeling somewhat stiff this morning.”

“Of course, my lady,” Sunset said, walking across the carpeted floor towards her. She stopped, yet a respectful distance of two feet away from Pyrrha’s mother.

“Closer, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos implored her, waving her hand in her own direction.

Sunset approached closer still, close enough to touch, close enough for Lady Nikos to reach out and touch Sunset, taking her by the neck and pulling her head forwards, even as she leaned forwards in turn to kiss Sunset first upon the left cheek, and then upon the right.

Her lips were a little dry and cracked in places, but nevertheless, the mere act of it was enough to make Sunset’s eyes widen.

“Thank you, Miss … Sunset Shimmer, if I may venture to call you so but once, let it be now,” Lady Nikos said, her voice trembling a little. “Thank you. All that I hoped for, you have done.”

“I … my lady…” Sunset murmured. “I … I confess, I do not feel as though I deserve praise for what I have done.”

Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “Why not, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset’s mouth gaped open for a second before she realised that that made her look very gauche and uncouth, and shut her mouth again. “I … why … is it not obvious, my lady?”

“Because of Vale?” Lady Nikos asked. “What is Vale, this city of the impudent hares, against the heir to my house and Mistral’s ancient royal line? Against our Evenstar? What is Vale, when set against Pyrrha’s life? Why should I regret that you risked the one to save the other, that you prized base earth as less than a glimmering emerald?”

“My lady might think differently if it had been Mistral at the end of the tunnel, and not Vale, if my lady will forgive me,” Sunset murmured.

“No doubt,” Lady Nikos allowed. “But Mistral is not Vale, and in any case, Vale did not fall, so what you think you have to rebuke yourself for, I have no idea. You saved Pyrrha’s life, and for what? You did something that someone of more malign intents would have done anyway, and when the grimm emerged, they were met with force. The battle that followed was, as I understand, rather one-sided. More people die in airship accidents. Think nothing of it, Miss Shimmer. Think only of Pyrrha’s life, the life that you saved; as you are mine, at my service, the bearer of Soteria, gifted to you from my family’s vault, so Pyrrha’s life ought to have been your prime concern.” She paused. “Are you a huntress, Miss Shimmer?”

“No, my lady,” Sunset said.

“And have you taken any oath to Vale?”

“No, my lady.”

“But you have taken my sword,” Lady Nikos reminded. “You have taken my money. If you suffer from a guilty conscience, Miss Shimmer, soothe it by the reminder that you are my woman far more than you are a huntress of Vale or anywhere else. It is to me, and to my house, that you owe your loyalty first and foremost, for though you have sworn me no oath, you gave me yet your word of honour in my house, and you took this venerable blade from me and, in doing so, accepted a bond between us.” She paused a moment. “I told you, Miss Shimmer, that my money was not a fee but an investment, in a talented companion to Pyrrha in battle. That investment has paid dividends beyond my wildest dreams.”

My lady also said you did not see me as a retainer, Sunset recalled, but nevertheless, she could see the force behind what Lady Nikos was saying. Whether she saw Sunset as a retainer or not, whether she had called Sunset such, she had given Sunset Soteria, a sword traditionally born by trusted retainers of the House of Nikos, by bodyguards such as Achates Kommenos and those who had come before him. There had been an implicit pledge of service given there, by the accepting of the weapon. By that logic, Sunset did owe more to Pyrrha than to Vale; though it was unspoken, it was nevertheless more explicit than anything she had given to anyone else save for Professor Ozpin in the matter of Salem.

Sunset found herself wishing she could believe it wholeheartedly. “My Lady is very kind to give me such a way to excuse myself,” she said. “I cannot entirely accept it.”

“You may, in time,” Lady Nikos said. “So, it is true, but the First Councillor has come to your defence, and the Amity Princess, Miss Aris, has come up with a lie to attempt to excuse this message that she wrote. It may not convince everyone, but am I right in saying that you are not under threat of the law?”

“I am not, my lady,” Sunset said. “At least not while Aspen Emerald remains First Councillor.”

“The First Councillor being another who saw no ill in what you did.”

“I would not quite go that far, my lady, but he seems to have softened quite considerably in his attitudes towards me,” Sunset said. “I think he appreciated Cinder’s capture.”

“As anyone would after the year Vale has had,” Lady Nikos replied. “But it is good news, excellent news, even if it does depend upon a politician remaining in office. Well, I trust this will be forgotten soon enough.”

“By the world, I hope, my lady, but by … my teammates know the truth, as you do, my lady. I … confessed it to them.”

“You seem to have made a habit of confessing, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “May I ask what you found so difficult about keeping this to yourself?”

“In the circumstances … it felt wrong to keep the secret any longer, my lady; I could not do it.”

“There is sometimes a place for deception, Miss Shimmer,” Lady Nikos said. “Lady Fir lied and lied and lied some more; she lied incessantly and, by her lies, saved Mistral.”

Sunset frowned. “I fear I do not know the name, my lady.”

“Mantle’s ambassador to Mistral before the Great War; what sort of history have you been taught in Atlas and Vale?” Lady Nikos demanded. “As the ambassador of Mantle’s King, she should have overseen Mistral’s enforcement of Mantle’s policies against art, culture, expression of any kind. Instead, having come to love our city, its games and festivals, its clothes of many shimmering colours, its poetry and music, she lied on our behalf. She covered up her own husband’s poisoning and lied to the King of Mantle and his ministers that Mistral was doing all that it had pledged to stamp out joy, colour, culture in all its forms. Had she not done so, had she been seized with a surfeit of honesty as you have been, Mistral would have died the death even before the Great War began. Whatever kingdom fought that war, and whatever kingdom survived it, would not have been recognisable as the Mistral that we know and which our ancestors built. How did your teammates take the news?”

“I…” Sunset licked her lips. “I have been banished from Beacon, my lady. Ruby did not take it well at all.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “'Banished,' Miss Shimmer? By Miss Rose?”

“It was her or me, my lady,” Sunset said. “It was fairer to come away.”

“And leave Pyrrha alone?”

“Jaune is with her, my lady,” Sunset reminded her, in a tone of slight reproach.

“Yes, he is, but you will forgive me if I do not see him as a wholly adequate substitute,” Lady Nikos replied. “I do not suppose there is any chance that Professor Ozpin might—”

“I would not ask him too, my lady; I cannot,” Sunset said. “I … it would not be right.”

“Miss Shimmer, you seem to be experiencing many inconvenient attacks of morality.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“That was not a compliment,” Lady Nikos informed her, as though Sunset needed to be informed. “So, you are no longer a student at Beacon?”

“No, my lady,” Sunset said. “If you have seen the news of our press conference, you will know that is why I am setting off on a mission to Mount Aris. It is my excuse for my absence.”

“Is there a real mission involved?”

“Yes, my lady, conveniently enough.”

“And you go by yourself?”

“I am assured it is not that dangerous, my lady,” Sunset told her.

“Nevertheless, take care, Miss Shimmer; I would mourn your passing,” Lady Nikos said softly. “What will you do after that, and how will it be explained without questions being raised?”

“To answer the second question first, my lady, I…” Sunset scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I mean…” It was a lot harder mentioning this to Lady Nikos, if only because of her greater years. If even Skystar thought this was absurd, what would Lady Nikos think? “I fear that my plan is too rudimentary to mention in your company, my lady; if you have any suggestions, I would welcome them.”

“Lie and lie and lie, Miss Shimmer, like a latter-day Lady Fir,” Lady Nikos advised. “Tell the world that you have wearied of Beacon, that the classroom holds no joy for you, that you are impatient to take the field in arms. And then … what will you do? Have you given any thought to the future, or is the shock of the present still too raw with you?”

“I have … given it some thought, my lady,” Sunset said. She hesitated. “Pyrrha … suggested that I might approach you for assistance in that regard.”

“Did she? Did she indeed?” Lady Nikos said. “She does not inform me when she has triumphed over her rival, but she remembers I exist when she is in need of aid.”

“I am sorry for importuning—”

“You need be sorry for nothing, Miss Shimmer, not today, and not for sometime after,” Lady Nikos said sharply. “I was merely amused, that is all. I would be glad to assist you; it would be the least that I could do to repay the debt that I owe for your service. I fear that I would have little use for a warrior in my own employ, but I could vouch for your talents to Lady Terri-Belle, Lord Rutulus, Polemarch Yeoh might find a rank for you in her new forces if you wish, or…” A smile crossed her lips. “Or perhaps … how fares your ambition, Miss Shimmer?”

“Somewhat underfed, my lady, and rather docile of late, why?”

“It does occur to me that, rather than opening the door for you to join some existing company, there is no reason why we might not start our own,” Lady Nikos said. “Yes, I have no need for a warrior in my service, but Mistral has need of warriors; I have the money for it, as Lord Rutulus does, and in you, I have a captain.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “You … you would … my lady would found a mercenary company for my employ? Create a group to place me at the head of?”

“I see no reason why not; it is not unheard of, after all,” Lady Nikos said. “Call it … another investment, after the first one provided such a sound return. Would you take such a position, if it were offered to you?”

Sunset did not reply for a moment, trusting that Lady Nikos would understand that this was an offer requiring somewhat in the way of careful consideration. What she was offering her was … it was a great deal, and a great show of her faith in Sunset, that she would place the resources of the House of Nikos at her disposal thus. Even assuming that the company started small, as it certainly would, still, to create one so that she might lead it.

It would not be Team SAPR, of course; nothing could be. Even so, a command of her own…

Would that make it easier or harder to slip away to do work for Professor Ozpin than working for someone else?

“You … you offer me a great honour, my lady,” Sunset said. “One that I … will not trouble you an excess of modesty; suffice it to say that I am conscious of what you offer and am grateful for it. May I have some little time to consider? Although it is the best offer I have had yet, I feel some obligation to Vale which may win out. I must think it over.”

“Of course,” Lady Nikos said. “I would not expect you to leap to an impulsive decision. Take all the time that you require. Even after I return to Mistral, the offer will remain open. While you think it over, will you return with me to Beacon and watch Pyrrha’s matches in the final round?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, my lady, but I cannot,” Sunset said. “Apart from anything else, it would give the lie to the idea that I am setting out on a mission at once.”

Yes, she could use her spell to avoid notice, but then, Lady Nikos wouldn’t realise she was there either, so what would be the point?

Not to mention the spell didn’t work on people with their auras up, so Ruby might notice she was back.

No. No, that was a pleasure that she could not allow herself.

“True enough, I suppose, if unfortunate,” Lady Nikos said. “You are leaving Vale right away?”

“I have some business to settle in the city first, but yes, straight away after that,” Sunset said.

“Then I must take my leave of you if I hope to catch the airship,” Lady Nikos said. “I wish you good fortune, Miss Shimmer, and, whatever you decide, it is my very fond hope that we shall meet again, sooner than late.”

“I cannot say for sure we shall, my lady,” Sunset said, curtsying to Lady Nikos. “But it is my hope also that it shall be so.”

The Hare and the Tortoise (New)

The Hare and the Tortoise

“Good morning, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch said as Sunset escorted Lady Nikos out of the hotel. “I’m glad I could catch you.”

Sunset stopped, as indeed did Lady Nikos. Sunset had not cast the spell back on herself, meaning that everyone who had missed her on the way up could now see her clearly on the way down.

She hoped that the looks she’d gotten were just people wondering how she’d gotten into the hotel.

Fortunately, nobody had said anything.

Although Sunset would have rather had the spell up, it would have been bad manners to have not offered to walk Lady Nikos out, since they were both leaving the hotel, even if their paths diverged after that. Sunset had intended to cast the spell upon herself again once they parted ways at the door.

If she had been a little faster about it, if the three of them — Hestia, the maid, included — had left just a little sooner, if Professor Goodwitch had been a little later, then … no, Professor Goodwitch would have been shielded from the effects of the spell by her aura.

But, if she had been a little later, or they had been a little earlier, then Sunset would have been off on her bike, and Professor Goodwitch would have missed her even if she could behold her.

Considering what Penny had told her, it was probably a good thing that Sunset had not been faster.

Although that wasn’t to say that she would enjoy the medicine’s taste, for all that it did her good.

Lady Nikos’ cane tapped upon the ground. “You know this woman, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset cleared her throat. “Yes, my lady, indeed I do; allow me to name Professor Goodwitch, combat instructor at Beacon.”

“Hmm, I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Pyrrha has not mentioned you, but then, after training under Chiron, I imagine she had very little to learn from a Valish instructor.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Was it necessary to open fire like that, my lady?

“And you must be Pyrrha’s mother,” Professor Goodwitch said, pushing her spectacles a little higher up her nose. “Charmed.” She glanced at Sunset. “Miss Shimmer, may I speak with you for a moment?”

Sunset took a deep breath. “Yes, Pr— ma’am.”

“'Professor' will do just fine, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch informed her. “In fact, I daresay it had probably better.”

Sunset nodded. “Yes, Professor.” She turned to Lady Nikos. “My lady, I wish you — and Pyrrha — joy of the day.”

“My joy of the day will come through Pyrrha’s joy,” Lady Nikos told her. “But I thank you, nevertheless.”

“I hope that Pyrrha may find some joy, besides a victory,” Sunset replied, a slight smile raising one side of her mouth, if for but a moment. She leaned forward, closer to Lady Nikos. “My lady … there is word of a grimm attack upon this city coming, I know not exactly when, but it may be soon; the grimm are massing already. I do not say this to dissuade you from going to the arena — you will probably be safer there than here — but… take care, I beg of you.”

Lady Nikos stared at her, her green eyes unmoving, not growing in size nor narrowing either, but seeming to grow sharper nonetheless. “Does Pyrrha know of this?”

“She does, my lady,” Sunset whispered. “Although it is not so very widely known.”

Lady Nikos was silent a moment, continuing to stare into Sunset’s eyes. “I see. Thank you, Miss Shimmer. For everything.”

A taxi pulled up to the curb, hailed by the hotel doorman; the same fellow who had hailed it opened the door. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, indeed,” Lady Nikos said, turning away from Sunset with a slight swirl of her crimson gown, adjusting the emerald green shawl around her shoulders with one hand as she walked towards the waiting cab. Hestia waited for her to climb in first, then got in after her.

Sunset couldn’t see Lady Nikos as the doorman shut the door, and the taxi drove off in the direction of the skydock.

Sunset didn’t bother to look after it as it went; what would be the point of that? Instead, and trying to ignore the fact that people on the street were looking at her as they passed — thank Celestia they did nothing more than look — she turned her attention to Professor Goodwitch.

“Good morning, Professor,” Sunset said, walking towards her.

“Good morning, again, Miss Shimmer,” said Professor Goodwitch. “May I ask what you told Miz Nikos?”

“I gave Lady Nikos a warning,” Sunset said. “About the … grimm situation. It seemed … it would have seemed wrong to have kept her in the dark.”

“I see,” Professor Goodwitch murmured.

“So could Lady Nikos, Professor.”

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Do you think that her discretion can be relied upon, Miss Shimmer?”

“I should certainly hope so, Professor,” said Sunset. She paused. “I was told to expect you here, by Penny; I am … glad we did not miss each other.” Glad for the most part, anyway.

“Professor Ozpin thought that you would come here,” Professor Goodwitch said. “To see Lady Nikos. He would have come himself, but as you can imagine, he is very busy.”

“And I imagine that his absence, especially to come and see me, would be noted,” Sunset murmured. “You are taking somewhat of a risk yourself in that regard, Professor, are you not?”

“Thankfully, I’m rather less well known than Professor Ozpin,” Professor Goodwitch said. She glanced at the hotel. “Will you walk with me, Miss Shimmer?”

“Of course, Professor,” Sunset said softly, clasping her hands together behind her back as Professor Goodwitch set off in the opposite direction to that in which Lady Nikos’ taxi had just driven, her high-heeled boots tapping upon the flat, square flagstones.

Despite her height advantage over Sunset, she moved at a speed that allowed Sunset to keep pace with her as they walked down the side of the road, with cars driving past on one side and pedestrians on either side, following behind or else moving out of their way as the two advanced.

Professor Goodwitch’s curls trembled ever so slightly as she walked. “We should probably not speak of … certain things,” she said. “We don’t know who might overhear a snatch of conversation. At least, we should not discuss them until we have reached somewhere private.”

“I have something that will help with that, Professor,” Sunset said. She held out one gloved hand. “If you will take my hand?”

“Miss Shimmer?”

“Only for a moment, I assure you,” Sunset said.

Professor Goodwitch looked at her curiously from over the top of her spectacles, but after a moment or two, she did as Sunset asked and placed her hand inside of Sunset’s palm.

Sunset’s fingers closed around Professor Goodwitch’s hand as Sunset cast the spell.

Instantly, all the looks that Sunset had been receiving ceased; instead, they looked away, heads intent on what they were doing, where they were going, everything and anything else that might be on their minds. Pyrrha’s soon and almost certain victory in the tournament, perhaps.

“We may have to dodge people coming this way, Professor,” Sunset said, moving out of the path of just one such person, “but luckily, we are setting such a good pace that there should be no one bumping into us from behind.”

“I see,” Professor Goodwitch murmured as she produced her riding crop from out behind her and gave it a little experimental flick of the wrist. “Just in case,” she added, catching Sunset’s eyes.

“Yes, um … ahem,” Sunset said, clearing her throat again. “So … um … Penny gave me warning not only of your coming but also of why; and yet I feel it would only be polite to ask … to what do I owe … the pleasure?”

Professor Goodwitch looked down at her. “You would much rather Professor Ozpin were here for this, wouldn’t you, Miss Shimmer?”

“No offence, Professor, but yes.”

Professor Goodwitch said nothing for a few moments as she gently steered someone out of their way with her telekinesis.

“I never thought that you were suited for this, Miss Shimmer,” she said gently.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose and fell, her brow wrinkling beneath her fiery hair. Her ears drooped down a little. “You might have been right, Professor.”

“Professor Ozpin thought otherwise,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And Professor Ozpin is very experienced and very wise. He still thinks otherwise.”

Sunset had expected this, thanks to Penny, but nevertheless, she felt as though she had been carrying a heavy backpack around the school, from classroom to classroom, and only now was she able to return to the dorm room and dump it with a thud upon the floor. “That is … thank you, Professor; I … I’m glad to hear it. It is a pleasure no less welcome for being anticipated.”

“'Glad'?” Professor Goodwitch said. “In spite of what you just said?”

“Paradoxically, perhaps, but yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “Perhaps I wasn’t the right choice, but, the choice having been made, I … would have hated to have been cast aside. Especially … especially since everyone else … I know that Ruby doesn’t want my help anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help them any way I can. I want to be … involved, still, if only a distance, like Ruby’s uncle. Some way that I could feel that I was, I don’t know … making life a little easier for them?”

Professor Goodwitch pursed her lips together. “Understandable,” she said, “especially in your case.” She nudged someone else gently out of the way, as a sigh escaped her. “You really love them, don’t you?”

“I may have loved not wisely but too well, Professor,” Sunset admitted. “But it’s still love.”

Professor Goodwitch did not reply to that. Instead, she said, “I don’t think that Professor Ozpin has yet decided what use he will make of you, except that he will continue to accept your service, if you continue to be willing to give it.”

“I am,” Sunset said at once.

“Then I am sure that Professor Ozpin will find some way to employ your talents for the greater good,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Although in what capacity, precisely, depends in part on you. Qrow, after all, can be Qrow because he lives the vagabond life of the unfettered huntsman. When he was a teacher at Signal, he was employed differently.”

“How, if I may ask, Professor?”

“For occasional missions, when school was out or the situation was very grave,” Professor Goodwitch said. “There was a time when Summer was Ozpin’s chief agent.”

“And…” Sunset hesitated. “And after…”

“There was someone else, for a while,” Professor Goodwitch explained. “A former teammate of Celestia, your old principal from Canterlot; her name was Opaline, Opaline Arcana. She, too, perished, as Summer did. At that point, Qrow volunteered to give up his position at Signal so that he could be of more use to Ozpin, who desperately needed at least someone in the field, investigating Salem’s actions, her movements, her intentions. But, as I say, that required him to leave his job and become a roving huntsman once again, for a teacher could not have kept disappearing from his school to gallivant here or there across Remnant. So, what do you plan to do with yourself now, Miss Shimmer? Are you really going to Mount Aris on a mission?”

“Yes, Professor, I am; apparently, there is some trouble there,” Sunset replied. “But, with the grimm concentrations, I may not be able to leave straight away. I am still here if … does Professor Ozpin have any plans to deal with the Siren? What about Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon? Is everything—?”

“James, General Ironwood, has his people monitoring Miss Shadow,” Professor Goodwitch informed her. “As for Miss Bonaventure, we are less convinced of her guilt, and so long as she isn’t left alone with Amber … as for the Siren, Professor Ozpin had intended to assign Team Sapphire to the task of dealing with it … while there was still a Team Sapphire with you in it.”

“I can do it anyway,” Sunset declared. “On my own, if I must, as I must. I can take care of it. At least, I could take care of it if I could find it, which would be the hard part.”

Professor Goodwitch looked at her. “Are you sure about this, Miss Shimmer? Alone?”

“It is a creature from Equestria, Professor; I am a creature from Equestria,” Sunset reminded her. “Who better to face this thing than I?”

“A grimm is a creature from Remnant,” Professor Goodwitch said. “A frog is a creature from Remnant. But it does not follow that a frog is the best thing for facing grimm.”

“I take your point, Professor, but I am more powerful than a frog.”

“And a Siren is more powerful still, it seems,” Professor Goodwitch said. “How would you deal with it?”

“I … am not entirely sure, but I know someone who could give me some advice on that front,” Sunset said. “And I’m not sure that just attacking her wouldn’t work. But I will consult before I take action, and I still need to find her first. Assuming Professor Ozpin has had no other ideas on how or who to tackle her?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And if you are willing, Miss Shimmer, then I’m sure that he will welcome the effort. And after that? After your mission to Mount Aris, what then?”

“Then…” Sunset trailed off. “I have been made offers, Professor. Lady Nikos has offered to make me the head of a security company. Former Councillor Aris could find use for me in her home. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then, when you decide, Professor Ozpin will decide how to make use of you, in Mistral or in Vale or wherever else you make your home or life.” Professor Goodwitch informed her. “Until then … instead of wishing you good luck, I’ll give you some advice: make absolutely sure you are prepared to confront this creature before you find her. The other way around rarely works as well.”

“So, how are you feeling?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha turned her toe where it rested on the metal floor of the Amity Colosseum; not far away stood the entrance to the tunnels where all of the finalists had been told to assemble, prior to being presented for the crowd.

“This is what I was trained for,” Pyrrha said. “Indeed, you could go further than that and say that this is what I was bred for.”

Jaune snorted. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. But … I wasn’t only talking about the tournament.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Or even mostly talking about the tournament?”

Jaune didn’t dispute that, even as he didn’t confirm it. He just said, “So, how are you feeling?”

Pyrrha glanced down for a moment. “Are you sure that I shouldn’t be asking you that, instead of me?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she went on. “I should be asking you that instead of you asking me, so, how are you? How are you doing, how are you … how are you?”

Jaune smiled. “You’re—”

“You’re the one who found out … last night…” Pyrrha murmured. “Please,” she added, reaching out and taking Jaune’s hands in her own. “Answer. You don’t need to hold it all inside.”

Jaune said nothing, just stared into her eyes. He had such very lovely eyes to look at, even if right now … was she imagining that there was a little more sadness in them than usual, or was it really there? She could hardly blame him if it were so, but unless he told her how he was feeling, then she didn’t feel as though she could be sure.

Jaune looked down, as Pyrrha had done before him, down at his feet, and down at hers, where they stood on the promenade of the Colosseum, with the world passing by around them. They were not hidden, it had to be admitted; people were pausing to take pictures of them, but with good fortune, the general hubbub of so many people passing by all around would be enough to make it difficult for their conversation to be overheard.

And in any case, they could choose their words with a degree of care, if need be.

Perhaps. It would depend on what Jaune had on his mind and in his heart.

“Last night,” Jaune said, “when Sunset … the way that she put Miranda in danger, it was so easy to get angry. And I did. I got … too angry, I think.”

“No—” Pyrrha began.

“You told me to stop,” Jaune reminded her. “Or at least, that’s what you were going to do, wasn’t it, before Ruby stopped me?”

Pyrrha hesitated.

Her hands were holding onto his, but Jaune managed to get his thumbs over her hands and gave a little squeeze with them. “You can be honest too,” he assured her.

“I … I was worried that you were going to…” Again, Pyrrha trailed off, and had to reassure herself that he meant what he had just said, that she could be honest. “I was afraid you might hurt her.”

Jaune chewed on his lip for a second. “I … I’d like to say that I’m a better person than that, that I would never do something like that, but the truth is that I … in that moment, I was so angry that maybe I would have. I don’t know. All I know is that I didn’t, and I’m glad that I didn’t. Ruby reminded me that it’s not about how we feel, about our anger or getting our own back at Sunset, it’s about…” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain what it’s about. I’d say that it’s about the choice that Sunset made, and maybe that is what it’s about, but if that’s the case, then … you know Dove would have made the same choice that Sunset made? If it were Amber at stake?”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows crept up towards her golden circlet. “He told you that?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Jaune said. “But we aren’t throwing him out of Beacon.”

“Perhaps because there is a difference between ‘I would have done this thing’ and ‘I did this thing,’” Pyrrha murmured. “Or perhaps because Dove is taking himself away from Beacon anyway. He loves Amber, as fiercely as Sunset loves us, and for her sake, he is leaving this place and the huntsman life behind. He no longer wishes to be a huntsman, and thus, transgressions against the values of a huntsman … why should he be judged by such standards?”

“You think it would have been okay for Sunset to do what she did if she weren’t a huntress?” asked Jaune.

“Would it not?” Pyrrha asked. She hesitated. “I suppose there are other professions for whom it would not be ideal or acceptable — a police officer, or perhaps a soldier — but … I told Sunset to go to my mother because I felt that she would not judge Sunset too harshly, and … if Sunset were a retainer in service to … one of us, then she would be praised for her loyalty.”

“Now?” Jaune asked. “Still?”

“In Mistral, yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “By some at least, perhaps by many. To put her duty to her lord above all else, her loyalty … in Vale, it would not be so, would it?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so,” Jaune murmured. “Are you … are you sure that we have to live there? I mean, no offence, but … your culture is a little bit … it’s kind of … weird, to put it nicely.”

Pyrrha sighed. “I suppose you might call it that. And I thank you for not using any harsher language to describe it. But Mistral is changing, albeit change comes slowly, and in one or two generations' time, it will probably not be that much different from Vale or Atlas. And for now, flawed or not, it’s still my home.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jaune agreed. “And I guess that I can’t really say that Vale is my home, can I? I didn’t grow up here, and I’m certainly not the prince of it; nobody would die of shock if I went to live anywhere else.”

Pyrrha chuckled.

Jaune went on. “I just … I guess I shouldn’t judge. Just because we have our way of looking at things doesn’t mean that our way is right and your way is wrong. I guess … it doesn’t really matter if what Sunset did would have looked different if she wasn’t a huntress, because she was one, right?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “It is about duty in the end, I think. Sunset chose the duty that she owed to us, which would have been an admirable trait in some, but as a huntress, she forgot the duty that she owed to others outside of ourselves.”

“Which is why it’s not about us or about how angry we feel,” Jaune said. “Or don’t feel.”

Pyrrha winced. “I was wondering if … are you—?”

“Upset?” Jaune asked.

“You were very angry,” Pyrrha said. “And I … was not.”

“Because you care about her,” Jaune said. “Because she’s dear to you. Because you love her, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha whispered. “Whatever she has done, regardless of how she failed in her duty, Sunset will always have a claim upon my heart.”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Jaune said. “There isn’t even anything to blame, even if I wanted to. You care about someone; that … that’s not bad. That’s not something to be upset about; that … that’s just who we are, right? We care about other people, we love them; there’s nothing we can do about that, it just happens. Besides … it’s not like I hated Sunset myself.”

“You don’t?” Pyrrha asked.

“No,” Jaune said. “I was angry last night, sure, but after Ruby made me realise that it wasn’t about me being angry, after I spoke to Dove … I suppose the anger … died out, burned out, got washed out, however you want to call it. It’s not there anymore. Ruby was right, but I don’t hate Sunset for what she did. I … I’m sorry that things had to turn out the way they did. I didn’t love her like you, but she was a good friend, someone who … always looked out for us, albeit in the wrong way sometimes, until in the end … she took it too far.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “And so, with the anger gone, what do you feel?”

“I … sad, I guess, that it had to turn out this way,” Jaune admitted. “And tired, because I don’t feel like I got enough sleep last night?”

Pyrrha chuckled softly. “Understandable,” she said. “We all had a lot on our minds. I am not sure how much benefit I got from the sleep that I obtained.”

“You’re not going to be too tired to fight well, are you?” Jaune asked, in a tone that was both light and amused and sincere at the same time.

Pyrrha smiled. “I think I’ll be alright.”

“Good,” Jaune said. He hesitated. “Can I … I know that you have to go soon, but, can I be honest for just a second?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha told him. “Always.”

“I … I kinda wish that we — that you and Sunset, I guess, since you were the two that were actually asked — had told Professor Ozpin no, after the dance, when he told you and Sunset and Rainbow about…” Jaune glanced away. “Everything, you know? Then none of this would have happened and we could have had four years with the four of us at Beacon and we wouldn’t have to … do you feel that way?”

Pyrrha thought for a moment, although she required more thought for her words than for her sentiments in this instance. “No,” she said. “I don’t, although I freely admit that I might have been happier if I had said no; I would not have felt so … inadequate, at times. But, nevertheless, I do not wish that I had turned away from this challenge; this is a battle that possesses true meaning, a battle on which the fate of kingdoms may rest. Though it be vanity, it is the sort of battle that I always wished to be part of. I understand why you might wish it otherwise — the world that you suggest would have been a very pleasant one for sure — but … I would not have this tournament be the pinnacle of all I have achieved or will achieve. I would do something that matters. We are doing something that matters, even if we must do it now without Sunset.”

Jaune nodded. “Makes sense. And I suppose, considering everything that was happening, whether we knew or not, we still wouldn’t have had a very quiet year; we just wouldn’t have known why it was happening.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it makes it sound rather dishonest that Team Wisteria, Team Iron, Team … that everyone else doesn’t know about all of this,” Pyrrha said. She realised what she had just said and rolled her eyes at herself. “It sounds dishonest because of course we are being dishonest.”

“It’s not our fault,” Jaune said.

“We have a choice,” Pyrrha replied. “Don’t we?”

“Yeah, but do you really want to tell everyone?” Jaune asked. “I mean, everyone, not knowing how they might react, what they might do?”

“I’m not proposing to tell everyone right now,” Pyrrha replied. “I just…” She sighed. “I don’t know what 'I just' or, what I mean, perhaps my mind is foggier from tiredness than I thought.”

Jaune pulled his hands free of hers, but only to put one hand upon her shoulder, and the other cupping her cheek, his fingertips warm against her skin, the leather of his gloves soft. “Then don’t worry about it,” he said. “After all, it may not be the pinnacle of your achievement here, but you’ve still got a tournament to win.” He grinned, flashing that bright smile of his. “But that’ll be a piece of cake, right?”

Pyrrha let out a little laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said softly. “But I hope it will be fun, for myself and — more importantly — for everyone watching.”

“Yeah, I think we could all do with a little bit of fun today,” Jaune said. “Who do you want to get drawn against?”

“I’m not sure that I should answer that,” Pyrrha said. “I wouldn’t want anyone to think I took them lightly.”

“Come on!” Jaune cried. “They’re not here!”

Pyrrha glanced around to make sure that was true. “I … it might be fun to face Yang again. A challenge, but fun at the same time. But then, I might also … I confess that if I don’t face Arslan at some point today, it will feel like a dreadful anticlimax. And Arslan would be very disappointed as well.”

“Yang, Arslan,” Jaune said. “And in the final of finals?”

“Jaune!”

“It’s part of my job to be supportively optimistic,” Jaune told her. “Or optimistically supportive. To believe in you.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I … Weiss is the one I … makes me nervous. Her semblance is … extremely versatile, to say the least.”

“Rip her weapon out of her hand,” Jaune suggested. “I think she’s limited in the glyphs she can conjure up without it.”

“It may come to that, but I hope not,” Pyrrha murmured. “Or perhaps someone else will face her and defeat her, and we will be as ships passing in the night.”

Jaune stroked her cheek with his thumb, just beneath her eye. “Whoever you go up against, you’re gonna knock ‘em dead.” He leaned forward and kissed her, the hand upon her shoulder rising to join the other on her face, his fingertips in her hair, nudging towards her circlet as their tongues met.

He let go, taking half a step away. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

Pyrrha made a sound that was half a breath and half a sigh. “And I will hear you, even through the tumult of the crowd. But now,” — her hands fell down to her side, one hand brushing at the sash that hung from her waist — “I should go, or I will be the last there, if I am not already.”

Jaune nodded but made no move to go himself.

A smile played on Pyrrha’s face as she turned away and started walking away. After a few paces, she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

Jaune was still there, watching her.

Pyrrha’s smile widened just a little, though she looked away and resumed her course.

Her sash swayed a little, even as her ponytail bounced up and down behind her, as her step quickened ever so slightly towards the waiting corridor entrance.

“Quite a show for the public,” Weiss said as she slid into Pyrrha’s side, emerging out of the crowd to walk beside her. “You don’t mind if I join you, I hope?”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha replied, slowing her pace so that she didn’t leave Weiss behind. “But it wasn’t my intent to put on a show.”

“No, I know,” Weiss said. “That’s what made it such a good show.”

“I, um … I’m not sure how to respond to that,” Pyrrha admitted.

Weiss laughed a little. “I’m not sure a response is required in all circumstances,” she said. After a moment’s pause, she said, “How does it feel to be the favourite going into this?”

“In my experience, being the favourite — or not — means nothing when the battle begins,” Pyrrha said.

“I suppose not,” Weiss allowed. “But even so, it must be some comfort?”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “Do you know the story of the Hare and the Tortoise?”

Weiss frowned. “I don’t remember that one from our fairytale class.”

“It’s not really a fairytale,” Pyrrha explained. “It isn’t really much of a story, either, in all honestly. It’s a Valish … fable, I suppose you might call it. A vain, wealthy old tortoise spends his days sunning himself, boasting endlessly of his accomplishments, his wisdom, his years, until all the other animals are sick of hearing it, but at the same time, so awed are they by all that he has seen and done that none dare speak up. In the end, a plucky young hare challenges the tortoise to a footrace.”

Weiss waited for a moment. “So what happens?”

“The hare beats him handily, of course,” Pyrrha said. “He’s racing a tortoise, after all.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather obvious,” Weiss muttered. “So obvious I’m forced to wonder what the point of it is.”

Pyrrha explained, “The story was written in Vale at a time when Valish traders were making great inroads into Mistral, despite the best efforts of Mistral’s guilds to keep them out.”

“Oh,” Weiss said. “Oh, yes, I see. How very … gauche in its triumphalism. I don’t think even my father would go so far as to commission a fable about his business victories. Although perhaps he could do with one now: the cuddly snowman who only wants to make life better for all the penguins and the polar bears.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. “That … would certainly be a novel public relations exercise.”

Weiss smiled. “I’m a bit surprised that Mistralians bother to remember a story like that.”

“It’s remembered as a cautionary tale,” Pyrrha said. “'Don’t rest on your laurels; a challenger may come at any time.'”

“I see,” Weiss murmured. “A decent moral to take, I suppose, and as good a one as any the author intended. But you,” she added, glancing up at Pyrrha, “are no tortoise.”

“And you are…” Pyrrha stopped, physically as well as stopping speaking, turning a little more to face Weiss, even as Weiss turned to face her in turn. “I am sorry for all that you’re going through at the moment, but believe me when I say that triumph in the arena may redeem the shame placed on a family name by those who came before. I could cite examples, but I fear the names would mean little to you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Weiss said, “but my first two victories don’t seem to have done much for me so far—”

“It takes time,” Pyrrha assured her, “but I believe, I am sure, that if you progress through these final rounds, you will win the crowd as you win victories.”

“That would certainly be nice,” Weiss admitted. “Although I might take issue with the idea that there is any shame upon … or at least, the shame upon my family name is not what this jeering crowd thinks it is.”

“Forgive me, I may have chosen my words poorly, I meant…” Pyrrha thought for a moment. “Shame is in the eye of the crowd, at day’s end, no? Or at least, there is a kind of shame that exists in how we are seen by others, and I fear that is the only kind of shame that can be expunged by a victor’s laurel.”

“That is true,” Weiss admitted. “So what you’re saying is that if I want to get the crowd on my side in spite of what they think about my family, then I need to fight my way through you?”

Pyrrha smiled. “Perhaps, if fortune has it so.”

“Well,” Weiss said, “that’s certainly something to look forward to.” She gestured towards the tunnel mouth. “Shall we?”

Pyrrha nodded, and the two of them walked the rest of the way towards, and the into, the corridor that would, if they walked all the way through it, lead them both out onto the arena proper, under the gaze of the crowd.

They didn’t go all that far, because before they made it, they ran into the other six finalists, those chosen by their teams to go through into this last round of the tournament: Rainbow Dash, Yang, Arslan, Sun, Umber Gorgoneion of Shade’s Team UMBR, and Neon Katt of Atlas’ Team FNKI. They were all there before them, and if they were not waiting for Pyrrha and Weiss, then they were still waiting nonetheless, waiting in the corridor as the light from the arena spilled into the tunnel, illuminating those who would soon grace it.

When Pyrrha and Weiss arrived, the corridor was silent; no one was speaking to one another. Pyrrha found herself hoping that they had been speaking but had simply exhausted all the topics of conversation before they arrived.

Neon Katt looked at them both. “Oh, hey, the slave owners have arrived fashionably late.”

“Neon,” Rainbow snapped. “Not now.”

Neon looked at her. “I was only—”

“It wasn’t funny,” Rainbow said. “At all.”

Neon hesitated for a second. “Well, they can’t all be funny, Dash. You try coming up with line after line and see if every one’s a winner. Even I’m bound to drop a dud sometime.”

Yang, who was near the back of the group, waved one hand. “Hey guys.”

“Good morning, Yang,” Pyrrha said as she and Weiss walked towards her.

Yang grinned. “You ready for this?”

“I should certainly hope so; it’s a little late to get ready otherwise,” Weiss muttered.

“It’s fine!” Sun declared. “I mean, it’s all for fun at the end of the day, right?”

“You won’t get very far with an attitude like that,” said Umber Gorgoneion, who was tapping her foot impatiently upon the floor.

“Yeah, this is the arena; it’s a sacred space,” Arslan said. “If you don’t take it seriously, then you’re showing disrespect to the crowd.”

“Hey, I’m gonna take it seriously,” Sun protested. “I’m just not going to lose any sleep if I lose.”

The voice of Professor Port boomed out from the commentator’s box high above, echoing across the colosseum and thundering into the corridor where the eight finalists waited.

“Welcome,” he cried, “to the third and final day of the Vytal Festival Tournament! This is it! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! The one-on-one finals!”

“Harsh,” Neon said, as the crowd cheered out in the stands beyond and above them. “Weren’t people looking forward to the four-on-fours and the two-on-twos as well? Was everything our teammates did just a warm up act?”

“Yes,” Arslan said.

“Arslan,” Pyrrha murmured reproachfully.

Arslan shrugged.

Doctor Oobleck took up the announcing duties: “Now, the identities of our eight contenders were not revealed at the end of yesterday’s matches, because we will be revealing them for the first time here, today! Can we please have all eight finalists in the arena?”

Yang peeled herself off the corridor wall. “This is it,” she said, a smile playing across her face.

One by one, they marched out of the shade of the tunnel and into the light coming down through the hole in the Colosseum roof, into the bright sunlight and the cheering, the constant cheering, the cheering that seemed to grow louder and louder as each successive huntress — and Sun — emerged out into the light.

And as Pyrrha emerged, second to last with only Weiss behind her, she fancied that she could hear Jaune cheering her on amidst the multitude, even as so much cheering fell down upon her like —

Like autumn leaves cascading down out of nowhere to carpet the ground.

Pyrrha shook her head slightly and forced that thought to the back of her mind as she put on her practised crowd smile, such as she had been wont to wear in all her public functions.

Together, the eight finalists marched onto the field with heads held high, reaching the central hexagon, where they formed a line facing north-northeast in the rough direction of the island of Vytal, while the screens that loomed high up around them projected their faces for all the spectators, and to the audiences at home.

“Here they are!” Professor Port cried. “Our eight finalists: Umber Gorgoneion of Shade, Arslan Altan of Haven, Neon Katt of Atlas, Yang Xiao Long of Beacon, Rainbow Dash of Atlas, Sun Wukong of Haven, Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon—” — he paused a second as the cheering somehow managed to get even louder, which Pyrrha would not have believe possible — “and Weiss Schnee of Beacon!”

A few boos mingled with the cheers, which was so rude that it verged upon disgraceful.

Once again, Professor Oobleck began to speak, “Now, unlike the previous two rounds of the tournament, these finals do not use a bracket system; instead, each round will be randomly determined immediately before the match begins!”

“Yes, like any good hunt, there will be zero time to prepare,” Professor Port declared jovially.

I’m not sure Sunset would agree that that is a good hunt, Pyrrha thought. But then, I don’t suppose that really matters anymore.

“Now, let’s see who our first match will be!” cried Doctor Oobleck.

The panning shots across the faces of the eight finalists on the screens were replaced by a pair of portraits, moving so fast that they were a blur; Pyrrha was unable to make out who the faces were until they came to a stop on two faces in particular.

“Our first match will be Weiss Schnee of Beacon versus Neon Katt of Atlas!” cried Professor Port.

Take It Up To the Top (New)

Take It Up to the Top

“Yes!” Leaf yelled. “Yes, we’ve got another shot!”

Veil leaned away from her on the couch a little bit. “First of all, who is this ‘we,’ and second of all, what do ‘we’ have another shot at?”

“We the faunus, obviously,” Leaf said. “We’ve got another shot at taking her down a peg.” She shrugged. “Or just taking her down, really.”

“Oh, right,” Veil said evenly.

“Come on, I’m allowed to not like her,” Leaf said. “I’m allowed, and nobody can tell me different.”

“It’s her family’s company, but it isn’t her company,” Veil pointed out. “It wasn’t even her old man.”

“The S they were going to burn into my flesh doesn’t stand for snowflake,” Leaf pointed out. “And besides … just look at her. She … don’t you find her annoying?”

“No,” Veil said. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, I do,” Leaf muttered as she got out a cigarette.

“Hey!” Veil said.

“I’m not going to smoke it,” Leaf said defensively. “I just … when I don’t have one, I struggle to work out what to do with my hands, that’s all.” She started twiddling the cigarette between her fingers, spinning it around as she hunched forward to get a better look at the TV.

“Okay,” Veil murmured. She raised her voice a bit as she went on, “You know she’s a friend of Rainbow Dash and Blake.”

Hunched forward the way she was, Leaf had to turn her head and look over her shoulder to get a glimpse of Veil. “Who?”

“The rightful king of Mantle, Weiss Schnee, who else?”

Leaf frowned, or almost scowled really. “You’re kidding me.”

Veil shook her head. “They’ve been seen together. Some people are saying that the whole thing with the camps was staged to make the SDC look bad.”

“I was there, it was absolutely not staged, and anyway, how does that follow from Blake and Rainbow being friends with Weiss Schnee? I mean, if they were faking making the SDC look bad—”

“Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense,” Veil agreed. “I think the idea is that Blake and Rainbow were faking it, and now that the fake is over, they’re such bad actors that they’re letting the mask slip and everyone can see they’re really all good friends with the people they were supposed to be busting, but I don’t buy that; it’s a big reach. And then you get some people — who I think are far too close to being White Fang sympathisers, but anyway — who say it proves that your friends aren’t really looking out for faunus at all; they’re cosying up to human power. I don’t buy that either.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think it means that Weiss Schnee isn’t responsible for what her family company does, or did, and that your friends are smart enough to know that, and … and they know her well enough to like her as a person. At least a little.”

Leaf didn’t say anything for a second. She turned away from Veil for a little bit, so that she was again looking more at the TV than she was at her roommate.

Was that right, what she’d said about Weiss Schnee? Was it right that Blake and Rainbow were friends with her?

Was it right that they were friends with her because they knew that she didn’t have anything to do with any of the stuff that the SDC had been doing?

Was Leaf being too hard on her?

Maybe. Maybe I should ask them.

No, I don’t want to distract Rainbow before the big fight, and … Blake’s probably busy too. Somehow. Organising a big festival like this probably takes a lot of work for everyone.

Or maybe they have final exams. That happens at the end of a school year, doesn’t it?

I’ll talk to them when they get back to Atlas. I’ll ask them about this being seen with Weiss Schnee and what it’s all about.

It’ll be nicer in person, we can go … to somewhere other than a Snowburger. Like that cake place they said their friend works at.

I’ll ask them in person.

Until then…

“I’d still rather she lost,” Leaf said. “I mean, Neon’s pretty cool, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Veil said. “She’s rad. Hey, since you know celebrities, do you think they could introduce us to her?”

“To Neon?”

“Yeah,” said Veil. “I mean, they’re all at the same academy, so they must know each other.”

“Probably, but I don’t know if I want to … you know.”

Veil sighed. “Yeah, that’s fair enough, I guess.”

“So, after all that, you hope that Weiss Schnee loses too?” Leaf asked for clarification. “After making out like I shouldn’t want that.”

“I want her to lose because I really like the girl she’s up against,” Veil said. “You want her to lose because of her family name. We are not the same.”

“Weiss put herself through to the finals,” Mallard said. “And she’s the first one up to fight, up against some Atlas girl.”

“There aren’t that many Atlas girls,” Martinez said. “So which is it? Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Neon Katt—”

“Yeah, her,” Mallard said. “Neon Katt.”

Martinez glanced over at where Mallard had his scroll out. He wasn’t watching the livestream of the match, but he did have the VNN live feed open feeding him continuous updates from the sports correspondent at the Colosseum.

The latest update was the one about Weiss, complete with headshots of her and her opponent.

“Put that away,” she told him. “We’re supposed to be working here.”

“I wasn’t gonna watch the match, boss,” Mallard protested. “I just wanted to check up, see how she was doing.”

“Okay, but all the same, we have a job to do,” Martinez said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wish her luck, but we can’t take our eyes off the ball here. If this power plant gets hit, if it goes down, that’s like … that’s a blackout across half the city.”

“Thirty-five percent,” Mallard murmured.

“Whatever, it’s a lot,” Martinez said. This was the biggest power plant in Vale, after all. “So we need to stay focussed and not get distracted.”

All the same, go get her, Weiss.

You got this.

Blake groaned and put her head in her hands for a second.

“Blake, honey?” Mom asked, putting her hand upon Blake’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

Blake raised her head again, brushing her long hair off her shoulders where it had fallen down. She was back in Councillor Cadance’s box again today, with her Atlas friends and their little sisters, along with Cadance and Shining Armor, of course. Blake had seen Ciel on the way up, but the latter wasn’t with them now; she was outside.

“I’m not feeling sick, Mom,” Blake explained. “Although that draw did make my stomach flip a little bit; it’s … another faunus? Weiss is going up against another faunus, this … is this some kind of sick joke? Is someone rigging the draw so that Weiss gets the worst possible match-ups?”

“No!” Twilight cried. “In order to rig the draws, you’d need to hack into the CCT, which … hasn’t happened.”

Not for want of trying, Blake thought, and wondered if Cinder had at some point planned to rig the tournament matches. She wasn’t sure why Cinder would want to do that, and there was no evidence that she had — it wasn’t as though there weren’t plenty of other, more dangerous things she could have done after planting a virus in the CCT — but since Twilight had made the connection, that was what her mind wandered too.

Not that it mattered. As Twilight had implicitly reminded her, the virus that Cinder had sought to implant in the CCT was gone. It was possible that there were other viruses, but not likely.

And, as she herself had just thought, why use it to rig the tournament match-ups when you could do so much more once you were inside the network?

If you could hack the CCT, wouldn’t you have better things to do than annoy Weiss by making her fight faunus after faunus?

This was just bad luck for Weiss.

Absolutely terrible luck.

“Why is that bad?” Scootaloo asked. “So, her opponent is a faunus, but—”

“Because of what happened in the last match!” Sweetie Belle declared. “Don’t you remember the way they all booed her? That’s 'cause she beat a couple of faunus, and … because of … that other thing I don’t quite get.”

“Ain’t much to get,” Applejack said. “Miss Schnee down there’s just gettin’ the blame for somethin’ that ain’t her fault.”

“And now it will happen again,” Blake moaned.

“Perhaps,” Rarity murmured. “Perhaps, if Miss Schnee triumphs now, the mood of the crowd will start to turn. At some point, surely they have to start admiring her skill and tenacity.”

“Do they?” Blake asked. “That would be great, but I’m not so sure.”

“I’m afraid it may be all she has to hope for,” Mom said. “After all, there isn’t anyone, not even me, who can order the crowd to change their mind.”

“It’s best if you don’t make a public spectacle of yourself here,” Cadance said. “Especially—”

“I know, I know, security and my safety, I understand,” Mom said. “But it might change a few minds.”

“Weiss wouldn’t want you to put yourself at risk for her sake,” Blake said. “She’s pretty tough. Tough enough to handle a hostile crowd.”

“Tough enough to handle her opponent?” asked Mom.

“I’d say so, yes,” Blake said. “Neon’s fast, but Weiss has a lot of versatility.”

“But she needs a little bit of a wind-up, from what Ah’ve seen,” Applejack commented. “If Neon can get on her fast enough, she might find herself in some real trouble.”

“Conjuring her glyphs doesn’t take Weiss long,” Blake replied. “Barely any time at all.”

“Neon don’t need hardly no time at all,” Applejack muttered.

Rarity folded her arms. “Why you and Rainbow Dash have any time at all for that sharp-tongued little minx, I have no idea. I’d like to see her get taken down a peg or two.”

“You know her?” asked Mom.

“We’ve met, unfortunately,” Rarity muttered.

“Come on, Rarity; she wasn’t that bad!” Pinkie said.

“That is very easy for you to say, Pinkie Pie, you’re not the one she called prissy and stuck-up.”

“Weeeeeeell, you did tell her off for eating with her hands,” Pinkie pointed out.

Rarity drew in a deep intake of breath. “Knives and forks were invented for a reason,” she said, in a voice that was at the same time soft and sharp.”

“She had a very … forceful sense of humour,” Fluttershy whispered.

“Neon can be a bit of an acquired taste,” Twilight said tactfully. “Like … marmite.”

Mom frowned. “Like what?”

“You haven’t had marmite?” Twilight asked. “You have to try some—”

“No, she really doesn’t,” Pinkie said. “We don’t want to make Blake’s mom hate Atlas!”

“Neon is a brave huntress, and you know she’ll have your back if you get in trouble,” Applejack said. “It’s just that, outside of trouble, she can … sometimes like to cause trouble. But she’s pretty good at what she does. Maybe better’n Miss Schnee down there.”

“Really?” Kali murmured. “I suppose we’ll find out very soon, won’t we?”

Weiss considered herself to be self-possessed and in control. She had been brought up to be the master of her emotions, not to engage in showy outward demonstrations of the same. She was calm, she was collected, she did not make an exhibition of herself — except when her father wished to make an exhibition of her.

But, all the same, if there had been a wall in front of her at this very moment, Weiss would have been sorely tempted to ram her head against it repeatedly.

Another faunus? Another faunus!? Another faunus who would no doubt despise her for her family name, who would sneer at her and snarl at her and who would, when defeated as Weiss meant to defeat her, make Weiss look like even more of a bully than she already did through no fault of her own and incur even more distaste from those watching!

It possibly made her seem a little prejudiced to complain so about having a faunus opponent, but, really, that had nothing to do with it.

She just thought that she might get an easier ride beating a human. Like Yang, Yang wouldn't have aroused much in the way of crowd sympathy, and she would, with no disrespect intended, been an easy fight to boot.

Yang probably would have seen disrespect where none was intended if she had heard Weiss' thought, but it was simply a matter of Yang's approach being … limited, compared to all that Weiss could do with her hereditary semblance.

The same thing no doubt applied to Neon Katt, but Weiss' victory over Yang would not have been interpreted through the prism of race the way it would be here.

Another faunus. What had she done to deserve this?

"Will all other finalists please clear the field?" Professor Port asked, his voice echoing across the arena, rising above the mingled boos and jeers that had greeted the announcement of Weiss as one of the two combatants.

Most of the finalists turned away and began to troop out of the arena, back into the tunnel the way they had all come on just a moment before. Pyrrha lingered a second, looking at Weiss.

"Good luck," she said, a slight smile upon her face.

Weiss gave a bow of the head. "Thank you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha turned away and followed after the others, the sash on her waist swaying a little with her long, striding steps.

Rainbow Dash had also remained, looking from Weiss to Neon, then back at Weiss.

She gave Weiss a thumbs-up and then joined Pyrrha making her way off the battlefield.

Neon threw out her arms, gasping in apparent exasperation as Rainbow left. She turned to follow Rainbow, before turning back to face Weiss.

"Will you look at that?" she demanded. "Will you look at that, we're from the same school, we're supposed to be comrades, but she blows me off like she doesn't know me so that she can suck up to you? What price solidarity, huh? What price loyalty?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Perhaps I've just got a more charming personality than you?"

Neon recoiled as though she had been stung. "Ouch! Maybe it should have been you I pretended to kidnap for the White Fang.”

"I'd rather you had," Weiss growled. "I was worried sick about Flash — and you've just reminded me that I never got the chance to thank you."

There was a rumbling sound from deep beneath their feet, up from the bowels of the Amity Colosseum, as the entire arena floor, everything surrounding the central hexagon on which they stood, retracted inwards, sliding beneath the stands like … Weiss found that she struggled to say what it was like, because it was really like nothing that she had ever seen before. Below them was a flat surface of slate grey, the same colour as the hexagon on which they stood, marked with the symbols of the four academies: the wreathed twin axes of Beacon, the spear and gear of Atlas, the winged lantern of Haven, the three swords of Shade.

It was a surface to which they descended as the hexagon on which they stood was lowered towards it. It did not touch the surface beneath, but they were lower down now than they had been in any previous match in the tournament.

“Do you mean that you’re actually going to thank me for the way that I totally kept your boyfriend alive—”

“He’s not—” Weiss started, but Neon rode roughshod over her.

“During a difficult situation—”

“That you caused!”

“Or is that a euphemism for you trying to kick my ass?”

“Of course I’m going to try and…” Weiss cleared her throat. “That. We are in a tournament, after all.”

“Really, and here I thought we were going on a date,” Neon said, fluttering her eyelids at Weiss while a particularly feline smirk crossed her mouth.

Weiss rolled her eyes again.

“Keep doing that, and they’ll roll right out of your head,” Neon pointed out.

“Then perhaps you should stop giving me cause,” Weiss muttered.

Neon sniggered and started stretching. “You’ll be glad to know, Miss Schnee, that I am not here for all the faunus.” She pointed at Weiss. “I’m only here for you, you little snow bunny.”

Weiss frowned. “'Snow bunny'?”

“Yeah!” Neon cried, as though it was self-explanatory. “They’re white and cute and really tiny, just like you.”

“Rea—?” Weiss sputtered indignantly. “I am not that short!”

“Oh, sure you’re not,” Neon replied mockingly. “What are you without those heels on, four foot flat?”

Weiss’ eyes narrowed. “Five feet.”

“Ooh, my mistake; you’re a regular giant, aren’tcha?” Neon asked.

“Meanwhile you are—”

“Impertinent?” Neon suggested. “Insolent.”

“Uncouth, for certain,” Weiss said. “Verging upon rude.”

Neon put one hand on her hip. “And you’re a little princess, coasting by on Daddy’s money and Grandpa’s name.”

“Three!” Professor Port declared.

Weiss put one hand on the hilt of Myrtenaster. “I am not coasting by on anything!”

Neon’s grin got wider; she leaned forwards, hunching her back a little. “Then show me what you’ve got, snow bunny.”

“Two!” Professor Port boomed out.

Weiss bared her teeth in a growl that verged upon unseemly, if it wasn’t already. “I will.”

“One!” Professor Port yelled out, his voice echoing around the Colosseum. “Fight!”

Weiss began to draw her rapier—

Neon closed the distance between them, a rainbow trail streaking behind her as she skated across the surface of the hexagon, still grinning away, and punched Weiss in the face.

Weiss’ face snapped sideways, her side ponytail flapping around to slap Neon in the face, the cheers of the crowd ringing in Weiss’ ears as she staggered back a step, hand slipping from Myrtenaster slightly.

Neon followed up with a punch to the gut; Weiss doubled over, a gasp of pain escaping her just in time for her mouth to be open as she caught another blow to the jaw, twisting her mouth in a rictus caught lovingly on camera and broadcast live across Remnant.

Weiss tried to retreat, staggering sideways, but Neon didn’t let up, didn’t give her one second to breathe, still less to conjure up a glyph. She grabbed Weiss by the head and forced her face down into Neon’s padded knee as it rose to meet her.

Pain flared through Weiss’ aura as she lunged forward, fumbling blindly with both hands, grabbing at the fabric that she felt with her fingertips, wrapping one another the bare skin that she could feel in front of her.

Neon’s fists fell upon her back like hammers as Neon slid backwards, dragging Weiss along the ground like a toy, but although Weiss could feel her aura dropping, it wasn’t as disconcerting for her as Neon’s initial onslaught.

She had the space to think.

More importantly, she had the space to conjure.

Using her semblance didn’t require a lot of thought nowadays — the days when she had had to really concentrate were behind her now — but any kind of thought was difficult when you were getting pummelled in the face. But now, now, she was only getting pounded on the back, which was hurting her aura but wasn’t taking all her attention in the same way.

Weiss clung onto Neon as she conjured up the black glyph beneath her feet, only letting go as the glyph launched her upwards, flying past Neon up into the air overhead. Her attempt to kick Neon in the face as she went past didn’t land, unfortunately; she didn’t have much hand-to-hand training, but she did have the gymnastics training to spin gracefully in the air, ponytail whirling around her head like a dancer’s ribbon, to land upon the second black glyph that she conjured, angled downwards like a spotlight, sticking her in place looking down upon the battlefield.

And upon her opponent, who launched herself up into the air in turn with a mighty kick that sent herself rocketing upwards.

But she’s slower in the air than she is on the ground.

Weiss drew Myrtenaster in one hand, and she thrust the other out in Neon’s direction as though she were bidding her to stop.

In actual fact, she was conjuring up a third black glyph right in Neon’s path, a glyph into which the Atlesian student slammed fist first followed by the rest of her body, before bouncing off it to slam back down onto the grey surface of the hexagon.

“Weiss Schnee scores her first hit!” Professor Port cried. “Can she keep it up?”

Watch me, Professor, Weiss thought.

Watch me, all of you.

Hate me if you wish, but don’t deny my talent.

With a flick of a button, the chamber in Myrtenaster cycled around until the light blue hard-light dust was chambered and ready.

Still standing half upside down upon her glyph, her ponytail drooping downwards, hair tickling one side of her face, Weiss swept her needle-like blade backwards in a high guard, poised to lunge from over her shoulder at any foe who came in range.

Although any foe was probably more worried about the array of gleaming white glyphs that began to appear behind Weiss: five, at first, then nine, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, a line of glyphs as solid as an old-fashioned army formed for battle, arranged like honeycombs as they spread outwards on either side of Weiss like shining wings.

Wings that could shoot more than feathers.

And all of them pointed downwards towards the arena surface and Neon Katt.

Weiss swept Myrtenaster around, gesturing imperiously downwards as laser beams began to leap from her glyphs, falling like a hard rain, blown by fierce winds sweeping down out of the farthest north, upon her opponent. The sheer number of laser beams were blinding to her; Weiss could see little but the streaks of light blue, coming so rapidly that they were almost a blur to her, as much a blur as the streak of rainbow light that started to engulf the battlefield as Neon desperately tried to stay one step ahead of the descending firestorm.

This was draining to Weiss’ aura; Weiss only needed to raise her head a little bit to see it on the screen, dropping down into the yellow as a consequence of her semblance use and of Neon’s earlier attacks on her, but it was only if her aura got into the red that she needed to worry, and if she won the battle, then it would be worth it.

As much to the point, Neon’s aura was dropping too, despite her running; Weiss was hitting her as she covered the field in fire, and with Neon’s speed, she might have risked more than she stood to gain by descending straight back down into the fray.

I could match, or even surpass, her semblance with a time dilation glyph, but once the effect wore off, I’d be at an even greater disadvantage than before, if only momentarily.

And why take the risk, when I can hammer her from above the fray like this?

Neon’s aura had been in a considerably healthier state than Weiss’ own when she had begun her barrage, but as the laser fire swept past her on both sides, Weiss took comfort — and no small amount of satisfaction — from the fact that Neon’s aura was dropping to the point where they were almost even, due to a combination of Weiss’ bombardment and Neon’s own use of her semblance to try and avoid it. Between the two of them, thanks to the visual effects of Neon’s semblance and the light show that Weiss was creating with hers, it was difficult to see what was going on down there; everything was just a blur of refracted light.

So much of a blur that she didn’t see the pair of nunchucks, glowing with the hazy yellow of lightning dust, flung out of the blur of light — and it didn’t help that they were coming in from the left, where her vision, and especially her peripheral vision, had been a little weak ever since her father’s ‘test’ against the arma gigas — towards her. Weiss tried to conjure up another glyph to stop it in its tracks, but she was too late. The spinning nunchucks slammed into her, one hitting her in the shoulder, the other in the side of the head, and both of them unleashing a wave of lightning that rippled up and down her entire body, crackling and snapping as it devoured her aura.

Weiss’ hands trembled; she barely retained her grip on Myrtenaster; wordless gibberish dribbled out of her mouth as her whole body shook like a mountainside before an avalanche. Perhaps the impact would have knocked her off her perch in any case, but she wouldn’t know, because all her glyphs dissolved around her, including the one on which she was standing.

Weiss dropped, head first, like a rock towards the ground.

She didn’t have a lot of time; with her still-twitching thumb, Weiss cycled from hard-light dust to ice, pointing her sword downwards — the point of the blade shook just a little — and firing multiple blasts downwards at the ground until it was not a flat, grey, surface beneath her but a miniature lake of ice, spiky and rippling and uneven, spreading outwards from the epicentre like waves, or like the unfolding petals of a flower.

Weiss had just enough time to conjure up a black glyph to break her fall before she landed heavily on the ice — and a good thing, too; she didn’t have unlimited aura to go around making lots of hard landings.

She had just about regained her feet, the ice crunching beneath her wedge heels, when Neon charged in at her, more like a bull than a cat, a rainbow trailing out behind her — until she reached the ice. Neon’s roller skates, which served her very well on the flat surface of the central hexagon, were a hindrance on the uneven, slippery icy surface, with icicles erupting outwards and an undulating wavelike pattern. She couldn’t move, or at least not swiftly; she was forced to hobble, leaning back and waddling on the heels of her skates like some sort of scantily-clad penguin, arms out for a degree of extra balance.

And Weiss sprang into the attack.

She levelled Myrtenaster at her opponent, using the last of the ice dust in the canister for a blast that struck Neon on the leg, encasing it in ice, fusing it with the ice that already covered the arena surface. Then Weiss conjured a line of silver-white glyphs between her and Neon, gliding gracefully over them, sword levelled straight at her.

Neon twisted and squirmed, showing amazing flexibility despite the fact that one of her legs was frozen to the ground, and as Weiss glided past her, she reached out and grabbed Weiss by the wrist, trying to twist Myrtenaster out of her hand.

Weiss didn’t let go, but Neon was able to use her grip on her arm to toss Weiss aside. Weiss conjured another black glyph, balancing on it for a moment before launching herself back at Neon, flying past her instead of straight at her this time, slashing at her flank as she passed by.

Weiss landed upon her ice field, skidding a little as she whirled around to face Neon once more. She didn’t use glyphs this time; she kept her feet upon the ice as she thrust her slender blade out at Neon once, twice, three times; again and again, Myrtenaster flickered forth, the light shining upon the metal, and again and again, Neon contorted her body, leaning this way or that, tugging against the ice that held her bound, bending in this or that way to let the point pass by her. Weiss always drew it back before Neon could make another effort to wrench the sword out of Weiss’ hands, just as she always stood sufficiently far back to stay out of reach of Neon’s punches.

But it was clear that she wasn’t going to win this with the blade.

And the ice that was holding Neon’s leg in place was starting to crack.

The cylinder of Myrtenaster rotated again, to red fire dust this time.

The ice that restrained shattered into shards as Neon wrenched her leg free.

Weiss fired before she could move, hitting Neon square in the chest and blasting her backwards — into a cage of black glyphs, six in all, which Weiss conjured on all sides of her, containing her in mid-air with no room to move.

Weiss could have sworn that she heard someone cheer at that.

Or perhaps, as she let a sigh escape from between her lips and dabbed at her brow with one hand, she had simply imagined it.

She glanced at her aura level up on the board. She was not amply supplied with it, being in the yellow, but considering that she had just immobilised her opponent, that shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

She just needed to decide what she was going to do with Neon now. Contained was not defeated, after all, and there was no clock for her to wait out. Well, she supposed that, at some point, Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck might call time on a match that was going nowhere, but that might be a while coming, and it would be better if she could think of a way to progress from caging Neon to either ringing her out or else bringing her aura down below the limit.

“You don’t know what to do next, do you?” Neon asked, contorting her body that Weiss could see at least some of her face. She was smiling for some reason.

“It will come to me,” Weiss said airily.

“Maybe,” Neon said.

“I would certainly rather be in my position than yours right now,” Weiss declared.

“I don’t know, these things, what do you call these?”

“Glyphs.”

“Whatever they are, they’re surprisingly comfy,” Neon said. “Nicer than the Beacon mattresses. Firm, you know, they don’t feel like they’re about to swallow you up.” She yawned. “Maybe I’ll just lie back and go to sleep; I haven’t been sleeping too well. I’ve been angry at somebody, and it’s been keeping me up with thoughts of resentment.”

“I don’t know whether to believe a word that comes out of your mouth,” Weiss muttered.

Neon cackled. “Well, you know what they say?”

Weiss frowned a little. “What do they say?”

“A lot of things, and most of it isn’t true,” Neon replied. She paused for a second. “That semblance of yours is pretty sweet.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s hereditary, isn’t it?” Neon asked.

Weiss licked her lips; she had a feeling of what might be coming next, but nevertheless, she could not help but say, “Yes, it is.”

“So you really are literally coasting on your family’s accomplishments,” Neon said. “You’ve got nothing to call your own, not even your semblance.”

“This is my semblance!” Weiss snapped, taking a step forward, and then another, and another, leaving the field of ice behind as she advanced upon the caged Neon. “Yes, it was passed down to me from my grandfather, but it is still mine, a reflection of my soul, my soul and my determination to…” She stopped. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to reply to you.”

“Because you’ve got nothing better to do?” Neon asked. “Unless you have plans?”

“I—”

“You know, I don’t think I will lie around here all day,” Neon said idly. “I’ve got better places to be.”

“You do realise you're stuck in there, right?”

“Am I, Miss Schnee?” Neon asked. “Am I?”

“Yes,” Weiss said flatly.

Neon shrugged. “We’ll see,” she said as she crossed her arms across her chest and began to breathe in and out very slowly. “We will see.”

Her breathing slowed even more, her chest rising and falling beneath her arms with a rhythm that was as gentle as the waves on the calmest of calm days.

Weiss’s eyes narrowed. What was she doing? What did she hope to accomplish by this?

She couldn’t feel her glyphs, they weren’t connected to her in that way, what she did with them didn’t affect her, they were creations of her aura, but they were not a part of her. Maybe, if they had been, Weiss would have felt something. Instead, she had no idea what Neon was doing until a blinding burst of rainbow light erupted out of her in all directions. Neon’s aura dropped deep into the yellow as she expended it on a massive outward burst that shattered Weiss’ glyphs.

In a single bound, Neon was free, and Weiss was in front of her.

Weiss started to retreat, but Neon was faster; Neon was on Weiss like a cat on a snow rabbit, fist drawn back to strike Weiss on the jaw so hard that she was lifted off the ground and sent flying through the air.

For a moment, Weiss could think of nothing but the blow, could do nothing but pinwheel through the air, tumbling over and over, nothing but fly beyond the edge of the hexagon and begin to drop towards the floor beneath.

The floor that would eliminate her if she touched it.

No! Not like this! I need to redeem my name with valour, just like Pyrrha said!

Weiss flung out her free hand, conjuring a black glyph on which she landed, on which, she had to admit, she flopped onto her back, like a training mat.

The crowd gasped, and then a ragged cheer rippled unevenly through the arena.

Are they cheering because they think I lost or because I didn’t?

Weiss climbed to her feet, careful not to fall off her glyph. She conjured a few more, as few as she dared given the state of her aura, a stairway of swirling black glyphs turning lazily round and round beneath her feet as she stepped lightly from one to the other, disappearing behind her as she climbed back, not onto the central hexagon, but level with it, a few feet away from the ledge, where she could see Neon standing with her back to Weiss, arms raised triumphantly, basking in the adoration of the crowd.

Weiss cleared her throat. “A little premature, don’t you think?”

Neon twirled around, her tail wrapping around her waist. “Huh? But you—”

“That’s right, folks,” Professor Port said, “even if a contestant is ejected from the battlefield, they are only eliminated by ring out if they touch the ground beyond. This match isn’t over yet!”

“Yes,” Weiss said, “that.”

Neon stared at her for a second. One blue eye twitched as her face twisted into a scowl. “That … that is—”

“Now you know how I feel,” Weiss remarked. She swept her sword up in a salute-like gesture as she cycled from fire dust to lightning. Overlaid on top of the glyph on which she stood, she began to conjure a second glyph, a yellow glyph, with the hands and fingers of a clock.

A time dilation glyph.

I’ve only got enough aura for one more attack, so I’d better make it count, Weiss thought.

The hands of the clock turned slower, and slower … and slower … until they stopped.

Weiss moved faster than Neon now; to the outside world, she would have seemed a blur as she cycled back from lightning dust to fire dust.

Weiss launched herself through the air, soaring on a line of white glyphs across the gap separating her from the battlefield, across the stage itself and finally slamming into Neon Katt shoulder first, firing all the fire dust in the cylinder at her as she went, all so fast that Neon could not dodge, could not respond, could not do anything at all as it became her turn to be launched backwards and off the field.

And she did not have a glyph to catch her.

“Neon Katt has been eliminated by ring out!” Professor Port boomed. “Weiss Schnee of Beacon wins the match and will progress onward!”

For a moment, the crowd was quiet, quiescent. As the hexagon dropped down — to pick up Neon, Weiss supposed — she kept her head up, waiting for the jeering to begin.

Instead, somebody cheered.

It was only one person, at first, or at least, it sounded like it, but then, it was more than that, other voices taking up the call. Yes, there were still some people booing her — alright, there were still quite a few people booing her — but there were people cheering her as well, and that, though it might be a low bar, was one that, in the circumstances, she was happy to clear.

The hexagon landed. Neon was lying on her back, arms and legs spread out in a star shape. The sight of her, and the fact that at least some in the crowd were cheering on her victory, set a smile playing upon Weiss’ face as she made her way over to her defeated opponent.

Neon groaned. “I take it back; I don’t have any plans after all.” She smiled up at Weiss. “That semblance is something else, you know that?”

“It has been remarked upon,” Weiss replied stiffly.

Neon grinned as she sat up. “But you know what? You’re something else as well.” She leapt to her feet. “Although you could stand to learn some hand-to-hand combat.”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “I’ll bear that in mind,” she said softly.

The two fell silent for a moment, listening to the mingled boos and cheers that greeted Weiss’ victory.

“You know, I think we can do a lot better than this with some effort,” Neon said.

“What are you—?” Weiss words were cut off by a shriek of surprise as Neon grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up into the air like a dancer with her partner, balancing Weiss over her head as she twirled her way back onto the platform which, with them both on it, began to rise.

“Weiss Schnee, everybody, give it up!” Neon yelled.

“What are you doing?” Weiss shrieked. “Put me down this—”

“Come on, let me hear you make some real noise!” Neon shouted. “Weiss Schnee!”

This was so unseemly. This was utterly and completely undignified.

This actually felt kind of nice, being lifted up, literally elevated like this, listening to the cheers of a crowd that was not wholly against her.

Cheers that she flattered herself were even starting to get a little louder.

Yes, this … this felt rather nice indeed.

Cause We Know We Can Win (New)

'Cause We Know We Can Win

Leaf and Veil let out simultaneous groans as their heads slumped forward.

“Okay, that? That was disappointing,” Veil said, gesturing at the television. “I thought she had it there at the beginning.”

“Me too,” Leaf muttered. “That semblance is just … it’s ridiculous.” She leaned back heavily onto the sofa. “It’s … most semblances can only do one thing, but she can do all of that with hers?”

“Apparently, there’s even more to it,” Veil remarked.

Leaf’s eyes widened. “There’s even more?”

“According to what I’ve read, there’s this thing called Summoning where a Schnee can conjure up … a ghost, sort of, or a spectral image—”

“Isn’t that the same thing as a ghost?”

“I think the idea is that ghosts can think for themselves, but spectral images can’t,” Veil explained. “Anyway, the point is, they kill a grimm, and then they can bring it back to fight for them, only it’s not a real grimm, it’s … it’s weird; it would be much easier to understand if I could see it, but apparently, her older sister used them all the time when she was competing in the Vytal Tournament—”

“How did she do?”

“She lost to another Atlas student in the finals,” Veil said quickly. “Anyway, the point is that Weiss Schnee hasn’t done any of that yet. Some people say she can’t; others say that she’s saving it until someone really breaks her out in a sweat.”

“I thought Neon brought her out in a sweat for a second there,” Leaf replied. “But if what you’re saying is true—”

“I think it is.”

“Then that’s just even worse!” Leaf cried. “How does one girl get so much?” She paused. “I mean, she’s already got everything else, but like … that’s the point! She’s got all the money, all the status, she’s got everything in terms of stuff that she could wish for, why should she get all the powers as well; shouldn’t they go to someone who actually deserves them?”

“I mean…” Veil shrugged. “Is it really that different from your friend Sunset’s powers?”

“Sunset doesn’t have as many different powers as that,” Leaf responded. “And besides, it’s different with Sunset.”

“Because you like Sunset,” Veil said.

“Yes, but also no,” Leaf said. “It’s different for Sunset for the same reason I like Sunset, because Sunset’s likeable — no matter what anonymous arseholes say about her.”

“Well, fair or not, she’s got all the gifts in every sense,” Veil said. “And, you know, I’ve gotta say … yeah, I wanted Neon to win—”

“Please let there not be a but.”

“But she was kind of impressive, don’t you think?”

“Her semblance was impressive,” Leaf muttered.

“Because of the way she used it, the way she thought about it,” Veil said. “Come on, that wasn’t a bad fight. And listen, the crowd thinks so too.”

“Some of the crowd.”

“Can you really say that she didn’t do well?” Veil asked.

“Yes, I can,” said Leaf. “She got lucky, that’s all. She got lucky, and she got … she got lucky the day that she was born a Schnee, and everything else has come out of that. There’s nothing else to it.”

Veil sighed. “I … I think you’re wrong about that,” she said. “And I think that other people, people who don’t have your … personal reasons, I think that they might think the same way.”

“Yes!” Blake hissed, pumping one fist. “Good for you, Weiss.”

“What would your new comrades say, to hear your cheering for the enemy?” asked Mom in a playful tone.

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’ to get upset about, ma’am,” Applejack said breezily. “After all, that there Miss Schnee is from Atlas too.”

Mom twisted in her seat a little to look at Applejack, and although her head was turned away from Blake, nevertheless, Blake found that she could imagine her mother’s raised eyebrows and feline smile, that combination of the curious and the playful, perfectly.

Even from the back, she could see that Mom was cocking her head a little bit to one side.

A little colour rose to Applejack’s cheeks. “Ah mean, uh, not that we, uh, not that … we don’t—”

“Yes, yes, we do, darling; that’s why you’re having such a hard time denying it,” Rarity said. She cleared her throat. “Lady Belladonna, there are two ways into our northern hearts: one is to be born an Atlesian, the other is to … behave as an Atlesian does, if that isn’t too nebulous term — nevertheless, I struggle to think of a different one that doesn’t sound unbearably pretentious — but in any case, the other way is to do … that, as Blake has. But I’m afraid that we can’t pretend that neither matters and that we hold all mankind as our brothers and sisters.”

“Indeed,” Mom said evenly. “Thank you for your honesty, Rarity.”

Rarity frowned a little. “You’re … welcome, ma’am.”

“Are you?” asked Cadance.

Mom snorted. “Come now, Cadance, you can’t expect this to be news to me. I can respect an honest response more than a hollow deception. And as long as Blake falls on the right side of the dividing line—”

“She does,” Twilight said.

“Then really, what grounds do I have for complaint?” asked Mom. “Besides, I know that Mistralians would say much the same, possibly without the allowance for people who behave in a Mistralian manner, and so would the Vacuans, probably, although I haven’t spent much time in Vacuo. It’s only here in Vale that I suspect that you’ll find less of that attitude.”

“Even here…” Twilight murmured.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to steer the conversation onto such rocky waters at a time like this,” Mom said. “I only meant to tease Blake a little!”

Blake fought the desire to apply the palm of her hand to her face. “Of course you did, Mom.”

“Well, I haven’t seen you for so long; you’ve left me with a lot of catching up to do,” Mom explained. “Not to mention the fact that we’ll be parted again soon, so I need to build up credit in the bank of embarrassing parenting as well.”

Pinkie giggled. “You’re a really great mom, Mrs. Lady Belladonna, ma’am.”

Mom froze, her mouth hanging open. “I…” She laughed, with a little stiffness in the laughter. “That’s very kind of you to say, dear, but I really don’t deserve—”

“Sure you do!” Pinkie cried. “You had a daughter who was different from you, but you supported her and gave her space to become her own person, and you kept on loving her all the while! Everyone should have a mom like you!”

There was a moment of silence in the box.

“…thank you, Pinkie Pie,” Mom said, looking away from Pinkie; her voice trembled a little, and she dabbed at one eye with her pinky finger. “That’s … very lovely to hear.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, that was … that was quite a match, wasn’t it?”

“It sure was,” Applejack said. “Looks like you were right after all, Blake.”

“I was right, but so were you, almost,” Blake replied. “When Neon closed the distance with Weiss … it looked like it might be over for her right then and there.”

“Mmm, girl could do with learnin’ a little bit of hand-to-hand combat, maybe,” Applejack remarked. “She didn’t seem to know what she was doin’ down there.”

“She knew enough to grapple,” Twilight pointed out.

“Grapplin’ ain’t knowin’ what to do; grapplin’s what you do when you’re all outta ideas,” Applejack insisted. “She couldn’t block, couldn’t throw a punch, couldn’t nothin’.”

“Not too surprising,” Rarity replied. “She is a Schnee, after all: the epitome of class, taste, and refinement. Why would she want to learn to brawl like some…?”

Applejack folded her arms.

“Someone of less exalted pedigree,” Rarity said delicately.

“And would her father allow it if she did?” added Blake.

“Rarity isn’t wrong,” Shining Armor remarked. “Her sister was never that much good with her hands either. At least, not without a weapon in them.”

Cadance smiled. “Yes, that’s how you won in the end, wasn’t it? You disarmed her?”

Shining Armor nodded. “She could still summon, but it cut the number of glyphs she could use down to two, and it meant that she couldn’t use her sword.”

“Maybe she should have told her sister to work on that a little,” Applejack said. “Maybe she should have worked on it herself, maybe she has, but … even more for Miss Schnee if she wants to become just a regular huntress, she oughtta try and be prepared for anythin’.”

Flash was the first one that she saw, the one standing closest to the mouth of the tunnel. There were others there too, of course: Cardin, Russel, Rainbow Dash, Pyrrha, not to mention the other three members of Team FNKI.

But Flash was the one standing closest to the tunnel mouth of the tunnel, and it was Flash who she saw first.

As Weiss and Neon made their way towards the tunnel, and the corridor that would lead them out of the arena — the central hexagon had risen back up to its usual height, and the rest of the usual floor had re-emerged, giving them a way back — Flash stepped out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena itself, arms outstretched — right up until the moment he wrapped his arms around Weiss.

He didn’t pick her up the way that Neon had, but the difference in their heights was such that he was able to lift her off her feet without even seeming to really try, as he held Weiss close, the leather of his jacket — he was casually dressed today — crumpling beneath her.

It felt a lot nicer than when Neon had done it. Weiss found herself kicking her legs up as Flash spun her around.

“You did it!” Flash cried. “You won, you’re through to the semi-finals!” He put her down. “I mean, not that I had any doubts or anything.”

Weiss smiled. “If you had no doubts at all, you have more faith in me than I do.”

“You didn’t do as well as I thought you would,” Cardin said. “What was that first part of the match?”

“I was taken by surprise,” Weiss said.

“And you didn’t know what to do next,” Cardin said. “You were almost beaten, right there.”

“Come on, Cardin, lay off,” Russel said. “She just won the match; there’s no need to nitpick about stuff that she didn’t get perfectly right.”

“When am I going to get the chance to nitpick her performance otherwise?” asked Cardin.

Russel rolled his eyes. “You did well,” he said. “You won the fight, and you might even have won a few fans too.”

Weiss looked around the crowd, the crowd where cheers and boos were intermingled, true, but all the same … it was an encouraging sound, at least to her. No doubt, Pyrrha would have been greatly dismayed to hear such noises coming at the end of one of her matches, but for Weiss … for Weiss, this was a great improvement.

“You’re right,” Rainbow agreed. “Congratulations, Weiss, you’re turning the mood around.”

“May it continue onward,” Pyrrha said, a soft smile upon her face.

Weiss snorted. “You shouldn’t say that now, Pyrrha; what if fate brings us together in the next round?”

“Then may the crowd admire the way that you lost gracefully,” Pyrrha said, without missing a beat.

Weiss smirked. “You know, I think that you’ll regret your retirement,” she said. “You’ll realise you actually enjoy this and wish you’d left yourself a way back.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Please don’t take it the wrong way when I say that I hope not.”

“Ah-hem!” Neon cleared her throat loudly, sounding like she was trying to cough some mucus out of her throat. “Excuse me, I’m standing right here!” She glared at her teammates. “And I notice none of you guys coming to pick me up?”

Neon’s team leader — Flynt Coal, Weiss believed his name was — shrugged. “Do you want to get picked up?”

“Well, not anymore, I don’t!” Neon snapped. “I don’t want a pity pick up that I asked for; how desperate do you think I am?”

Flynt grinned. “Besides, it looked to me out there like you’re more the picking up kind.”

Neon folded her arms. “Oh, do you want me to pick you up?”

“Maybe later,” Flynt said. “But you did good out there; ain’t nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yeah … sorry, Neon,” Rainbow said. “It was … you got a rough draw.”

“And Schnee,” Flynt said, looking at her — or at least he seemed to be looking at her; it was hard to say with his sunglasses on. “You got some nice moves.”

“And now,” Doctor Oobleck announced, “as the ice melts in every sense on that thrilling first match, let’s have the draw for the second fight of the day!”

Weiss turned around her, her eyes drawn — along with all other gazes — towards the huge screens that dominated the top of the arena.

There were fewer faces to choose from, but even so, they were moving so quickly that Weiss couldn’t make out who was who until they came to a stop.

“The next match will be between Yang Xiao Long of Beacon and Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!” Doctor Oobleck yelled. “Will both competitors please make their way out onto the field?”

“Yang,” Blake murmured. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Rarity said.

“HMMMM!” Pinkie made the noise very loudly, looking from one to the other.

A slight snort jumped out of Blake’s nose. “I was just thinking about … well, about Yang, I suppose, but also about what she’s up against.”

“Do you know her?” Mom asked. “Her opponent, this Umber Gorgoneion?”

“I was up here all day with you yesterday, watching the two-on-two rounds,” Blake responded.

“Yes, but you can’t expect me to pay attention when it isn’t you or your friends fighting,” Mom replied breezily. “I was probably talking to Cadance at the time.”

“Probably; I don’t remember an Umber Gorgoneion either,” Cadance said. “Gorgoneion sounds like a Mistralian surname, doesn’t it?”

“Gorgoneion is a Mistralian surname,” Shining Armor confirmed. “The House of Gorgoneion, the House of the Serpent, the lords and ladies of Kisthene. Provincial nobles, but old and dignified and well-respected.”

“They held the Vytal Festival in Mistral when Shining Armor was student,” Cadance explained. “He spent a year at Haven Academy. By the end of it, they were calling him Mistralian Armor, weren’t they honey?”

“Really?” Mom asked, twisting in her seat to get a better look at him. “Now, see, I would never have thought that.”

Shining Armor laughed softly. “I’ve never been back to Mistral since; I’ve had a lot of time to grow back to my Atlesian self. But at the time, when I was there … yeah, I really liked it, I have to admit. The food was delicious, the landscape and the buildings were both beautiful, the weather was a great change of pace from Atlas, plus … the Mistralian students that we get at Atlas tend to not have a lot of good things to say about Mistral. Turnus made out that it was a real mess, like there were bodies lying in the streets, real anarchy. So when I got there, and it was pretty great … it seemed even better because it cleared my expectations so easily, you know? I mean, on the airship there, I was kind of terrified about what we were going to find, and then I get off the airship in a beautiful city!” He paused. “And I liked the … I guess you could call it the pageantry of it all, the old temples and the old families and the … sometimes, I feel like in Atlas we don’t have enough of a sense of our own history. Twily, name an old Atlesian hero.”

“Rockhoof,” Twilight said at once.

“Rockhoof?” Rarity repeated. “Didn’t he freeze to death?”

“Sure he did,” Applejack said. “But he did it heroically, tryin’ to find a northwest passage around Solitas.”

“I’m not sure that’s what I’d call heroism, darling,” Rarity murmured.

“But some people would,” Twilight said.

“That’s one, dear,” Cadance pointed out.

Shining Armor nodded. “Okay, name five. It doesn’t have to be Twily; anyone can join in. You can, Blake, if you like.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, but no names emerged; no words emerged at all, for that matter.

That silence, the silence not only from Twilight but from all of Twilight’s friends as well, was the only thing that was stopping Blake from feeling very ashamed of herself: yes, she didn’t know any great heroes of the past of the kingdom that she was about to join, but it seemed as though nobody else did either.

Mind you, I don’t know who Rockhoof is. I should probably find out.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Shining Armor said. “Nobody from Mistral would have any problem answering that question.”

Pyrrha certainly wouldn’t, Blake admitted to herself. But nobody? “Nobody, or nobody from a certain strata of society?”

“Nobody … certainly no one at Haven, where it’s a compulsory subject,” Shining Armor said. “But honestly, I’d be surprised if it was just anyone. They marinade in these stories there; it’s not something that you have be educated to get access to, it’s not even something that you have to be taught, it’s—”

“You breathe it in like you breathe the air,” Mom said. “You walk the streets, and the eyes of Perseus the Rider and Hippolyta the Vengeful and the two great Theseids look down upon you from their statues upon the great pedestals. The ghosts of Juturna and Camilla, of Princess Lucrecia and Publius Rutulus haunt the city, whispering in the wind that blows through the streets. Their footsteps smoothed the very stones on which you walk in turn.” She smiled. “I was born in Mistral myself. Although … for faunus … there are some who would say that, as Mistralians, the history of Mistral is their history, and they have as much right to it as anyone else; others say that we have our own history, our own story to tell: the story of a people who create a culture in spite of all that their masters could do to them, who had songs and stories that they hid from those who thought them little better than animals; the story of those who resisted and, eventually, won their freedom.”

“And … you?” Cadance asked softly. “What do you think?”

Mom smiled. “Have you ever read Sienna Khan’s A Faunus History of Mistral? Actually, no, not even that; have you ever read Sienna Khan’s novel?”

“Sienna Khan wrote novels?” Blake asked. She’d had no idea. Certainly, Sienna herself had never mentioned it.

“Only one,” Mom replied. “A young adult novel, set before the Great War, about a slave in the Imperial palace. He falls in love, and eventually, the two of them escape to freedom in Vale, but before that, he’s present for … just about every major decision the Emperor took in those days. He’s there for the great debate amongst the lords on whether they should bow to Mantle’s will and ban all culture, art, and self-expression; he’s there for the puppet show that the Emperor watched with his children on the night he came to the decision. It’s not a great book, it's got too much history in it and not enough juicy personal drama, that’s why Sienna never wrote any more, but the point is that … it’s about the point that she also tried to make in her history of Mistral, which is that the faunus had always been there, even if they weren’t noticed by their so-called betters.”

“Serving the drinks,” Blake pointed out.

“But there, all the same,” Mom repeated. “Present. The achievements of our ancestors, and the different lives that they led, are worth remembering, but those who say that the history of Mistral, the history of all the kingdoms, belongs to us as much to anyone else, are right. It’s a shame that Sienna herself forgot that somewhere down the line.”

“In Atlas, we sometimes act like our history is something to be ashamed of,” Shining Armor said.

“Because we prefer to look to the future,” suggested Cadance.

“Can’t you look to the future without forgetting your past?” replied Shining Armor.

“I don’t know; how are the Mistralians doing in that regard?” she said.

“Ah feel as if we might be getting a mite off the point,” Applejack said. “Or maybe Ah’m just sayin’ that because y’all are makin’ mah head spin.”

“You and me both; I stopped following this ages ago,” Pinkie said.

Blake covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I suppose the point is that Umber Gorgoneion, who is a Mistralian, apparently, and from a noble family, which makes me wonder why she went to Shade Academy, but anyway … Yang’s opponent fights with whips. More like cat o’nine tails, almost, each which has multiple lashes, and they extend outwards. We saw that yesterday, those of us who were watching.”

“Mhmm,” Applejack nodded. “She was pretty handy with them too, used ‘em like … like spider’s webs, to tangle up her opponents in ‘em. Didn’t see any sign of her semblance, though.”

Blake shook her head. “Me neither. Hopefully, it’s nothing too surprising for Yang.” She paused for a moment. “If she can close in with her, Yang should have this; she’s incredibly strong. So long as Umber Gorgoneion doesn’t tie her up in her spider’s web.”

Yang put her hands down upon the arms of her seat. “So,” she said. “Looks like I’m up next, huh?”

She was sitting in the competitor’s section of the stands, the front two rows reserved for the teams that had been initially selected to compete.

Nora and Ren sat on her right, and it was Nora who gave her a thumbs up. “You’ve got this!”

Ren said nothing, but he did offer a supportive nod.

Yang started to stand up. “Thanks, guys,” she said, before looking to her left; Jaune was there, and an empty seat for Pyrrha who had gone to congratulate Weiss on her victory, and Penny was there too … but no Ruby.

Of course, there was a very good reason why Ruby wasn’t there: somebody had to look after Amber and Dove — if only in case Cinder turned out to be telling the truth and Bon Bon turned out to have been working for Salem all this time — and Yang could understand why Ruby had volunteered for that important job; she’d been there when Ruby volunteered for that important job, after all.

“So,” Yang said, as Penny put her scroll away. “The Vytal Tournament is still on and we’re still on for the Vytal Tournament.”

“So it would seem,” Pyrrha said softly. “I … I must confess that I am not entirely disappointed. No, in fact, I will go further than that: I am not disappointed.”

“Not that anyone expects you to be disappointed,” Yang said, a smile playing across her face, “but why not?”

“Because this is to be my last tournament, and I would rather … finish it, by winning or by being knocked out in a fair fight,” Pyrrha said. “But I’ve never quit a tournament half-done in my entire career, and I would rather not end my time in the arena with a tournament that was cancelled — even by such a cancellation-worthy thing as an impending grimm attack.”

Yang chuckled. “Well, that’s fair enough, I guess.”

“It makes sense,” Penny said. “To keep the tournament going, I mean.”

“Because of the panic otherwise?” Jaune asked.

“No, because of General Ironwood’s ships around the Colosseum, and the guards in there, and down at Beacon,” Penny explained. “Beacon, and Amity, might be safer than Vale today.”

“That’s a thought,” Jaune said. He paused for a second. “Another thought is, who's going to stay with Amber today? It can’t be Pyrrha, and we can’t ask Rainbow Dash, and we probably can’t ask Blake either, what with her mom here, so—”

“I’ll do it,” Penny said. “I’m the team leader, after all, so I will … make this sacrifice for the good of the team.” Her green eyes widened. “Not that spending time with you is a sacrifice, Amber; I just meant—”

“That you’d rather watch the final matches,” Amber said softly. “I understand. It doesn’t offend me. If anything, I should be apologising to you, for keeping you here like this.”

“It’s alright,” Penny said. “It has to be done. We can’t risk losing you now, not after everything, And I’m not going to tell Ruby or Jaune that—”

“I’ll do it,” Ruby said.

Penny looked at her. “Ruby, I just said I wasn’t going to tell you to—”

“You really want to see Pyrrha fight, right?” Ruby asked.

Penny hesitated. “That isn’t a very good reason,” she said quietly.

“Then how about this for a reason?” Ruby went on. “If there is an attack in the middle of the tournament, then the team leader should be with the majority of her teammates, not down on the ground while they’re all up on a floating stage. Professor Ozpin made you team leader because he trusted you to lead, but you have to be in the right place to give the orders, right? I’ll stay with Amber and Dove.” She looked at Amber. “That’s fine, isn’t it?”

Amber was quiet for a second. She glanced at Penny, and then at Dove, then at Pyrrha, and only once she’d looked at everyone else except Ruby did she actually finally look at Ruby again. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, that would be fine. Thank you, Ruby.”

“Yes, thank you, Ruby,” added Penny.

Ruby shrugged. “It was the right call. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

Yeah, it was the right call; Ruby’s argument had made sense, there was no point in a team leader who wasn’t where the rest of her teammates were when the metal met.

But all the same, Yang was a little disappointed that she wasn’t here.

Still, she’d tell Ruby all about it when she got back to school.

Yang got to her feet. Her opponent was already up, looking at Yang as though she were waiting for her — which she was, but she didn’t need to wait for Yang to get up to go down to the arena.

Then again, she also looked a little bit like she was sizing Yang up. It was hard to say because her eyes were hidden.

Umber Gorgoneion was wearing a long black leather jacket that went down pretty much to her shins and which must have gotten really hot and sweaty in the Vacuo desert, or at least, Yang would have thought so; perhaps Umber was just one of those people who was prepared to endure any discomfort in the name of looking good, like Weiss, Pyrrha, and Blake in those high heels. Anyway, Yang could also see a pair of black fingerless gloves covering most of Umber’s hands before disappearing into the sleeves of her jacket — said sleeves had green serpents, with yellow eyes and flickering red tongues, sewn onto the outsides of the leather. Underneath the jacket, she was wearing a coat of scale armour, with each scale a dull, brown-green colour that absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. She wore a short green skirt over stone-grey jeans, with black leather boots that went up almost as far as her knees. Her hair was braided in such a way that it looked like snakes, snakes that were writhing and hissing on top of her head in the direction of whoever she was looking at; the fact that she had dyed her hair in interwoven streaks of green and brown didn’t hurt with that impression at all. She wore a silver armband over her jacket, above the elbow of her right arm — not the left, the way that Pyrrha and Blake wore similar armbands — and her eyes were concealed beneath the opaque sunglasses that she was wearing.

Yang remembered her from the planning of the Vytal parade. She had been sharp with the Haven student who had claimed to know her family, very insistent that she was Vacuan, not Mistralian, but other than that, she’d been … kind of quiet.

Yang approached her, holding out one hand. “May the best huntress win,” she said.

“I plan to,” Umber said and walked off without shaking Yang’s hand.

Yang was left standing there, blinking in surprise.

“Well, that was rude,” Nora declared. “You really need to kick her ass after that!”

Yang looked back at her. “I’m certainly not gonna go easy on her now,” she said jokingly — half-jokingly, anyway — as she followed Umber down from the stands towards the battlefield.

She passed Pyrrha and Weiss on the way back, along with Rainbow Dash and some of the other Atlesians.

“Good luck out there,” Weiss said.

“Congratulations to you too, Weiss,” Yang said. “I was worried about you there for a second, but you pulled it out the bag in the end.”

“Yes, well, just doing my part to uphold the honour of Beacon Academy,” Weiss said. “Of course, now that I’ve started us off on such a strong foot, it’s up to the both of you to make sure that you don’t let the school down.”

“With good fortune, we will both make Beacon proud,” Pyrrha said. “How do you feel, Yang?”

“So long as I can get close, I’ll be fine,” Yang said. “And I’ll find a way to get in close, don’t you worry.”

“You’ll do very well, I’m sure,” Pyrrha said. “Best of luck.”

“Thanks, you two,” Yang said. “I hope I don’t need it.” She left them, and the Atlesians with them, and made her way down the corridor — the same corridor that they’d all headed back into before the start of Weiss’ match with Neon — and out into the arena.

The crowd cheered loudly, and Yang couldn’t resist raising one fist in the air, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet a little, her pace quickening so that she was halfway running the rest of the way across the featureless stadium until she stood on the central hexagon that would be their battlefield.

The rest of the arena retracted, just like it had for Weiss and Neon, and just like it had for them, the hexagon began to descend, lowering closer to the floor beneath them.

Umber paced up and down impatiently, her long coat trailing after her.

“Nervous?” Yang asked, with a bit of a grin.

Umber looked at her, or at least, Yang thought she did; her head was pointed in Yang’s direction.

“No,” she said sharply. “I just want to get this over with.”

A pair of weapons dropped out of the sleeves of her jacket and into her waiting hands. They looked like a pair of cat o’nine tails, the multi-lashed whips that ships used to use for punishing sailors back in the bad old days before things became a little more civilised; Umber’s whips looked a little longer than the pictures of those that Yang had seen, with metal snake-heads at the tips and long, cudgel-like handles that concealed more whip inside of them.

The visible parts of the lashes swayed gently back and forth in Umber’s grip.

“Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!” Professor Port declared, prompting Umber to raise one hand in the air, the short tails of her lash dropping down towards her head as the crowd cheered.

“Yang Xiao Long of Beacon!” Professor Port cried, and Yang raised her own fist in turn.

“Three!” Doctor Oobleck cried.

Yang pumped her arms, causing her Ember Celica to snap into position, ready to fire.

“I know you want to win this,” Yang said, “but don’t take me lightly.”

“Two!” shouted Doctor Oobleck.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Umber said. “And don’t you think about taking me lightly because I’m a Shade student.”

“One!” Doctor Oobleck yelled. “FIGHT!”

Yang stepped forward, throwing out punches at the air, firing shot after shot from Ember Celica straight at Umber.

Umber took a step forward too, her lashes extending outwards as she weaved her many whips through the air; they made whooshing sounds as they intercepted Yang’s shots, the explosions blossoming upon the metal snakeheads or upon the rippling black leather.

Umber flicked her whip in Yang’s direction, a multitude of lashes leaping out at her, growing longer as they closed in on her like animals. Yang sidestepped, letting the whips crack past her — one of them scratched at her face a little, but it hardly registered — before she kept on turning, firing behind her as she kicked off the ground and let the recoil of Ember Celica bear her across the hexagon towards her opponent.

She rolled in mid-air like an airship. Umber cracked the whip at her, nine lashes striking her across the face, tearing at her aura, but they couldn’t slow Yang’s momentum down, especially when she fired off a couple more shots for a burst of extra power.

The lashes fell from Umber’s hands as Yang drew back her right fist for a punch.

Yang threw the punch, aiming for Umber’s face.

Umber caught Yang’s fist in her hand, fingers closing around Yang’s knuckles even as Ember Celica fired straight into them.

Umber didn’t let go. She winced, or at least, Yang thought she did, but she didn’t flinch; in fact, she punched Yang in the gut with her free hand, getting an ‘oof’ of winded pain out of Yang before she grabbed her by the belt.

Umber spun on the toes of her boots, swinging Yang around before throwing her at the edge of the battlefield.

Yang fired desperately as the edge of the arena came closer and closer, Ember Celica roaring repeatedly as she frantically built up the counter force that would stop her before she fell off the edge of the hexagon — unlike Weiss, she didn’t have anything to catch her before she reached the ground.

She managed it, just about, landing on the very edge of the hexagon, poised on the edge of the defeat.

She leapt away quickly before Umber could knock her off of it.

Yang rolled, her hair flying around her for a second, before rising up to one knee and letting off a flurry of shots in Umber’s direction. But Umber was on the move as well, her lashes back in her hands as she danced away from the shots of Ember Celica. She cracked her whips at Yang, who rolled away once more before loosing some more shots. Umber had just used her whips to try and land a hit on Yang, and so they were out of place to try and block the hits of her; Yang hit her twice in the shoulder, spinning her around, forcing her back.

Yang rose up and began to charge.

Umber flicked one lash back towards her. The snake-headed whips coiled around Yang’s feet, tightening around her boots. Umber yanked the lash towards her, pulling Yang off her feet so that he landed heavily on her back on the ground.

Yang sat up, still firing at Umber, who bent down as the shots hit home, fires bursting on her leather jacket as she lashed at Yang with her other whip. The snake-headed tongues whooshed through the air as they coiled around Yang’s wrists and arms, one around her neck.

Umber’s expression was grim as she pulled on both her lashes, twisting Yang around so that, instead of facing Umber, Yang was lying spread out before her, legs being pulled in one direction, arms in the other.

Yang grunted as she pulled at the whips that bound her arms. Through her aura, she could feel them digging into her skin, she could feel them being pulled in one direction just as she could feel her legs being pulled the other way.

Umber’s arms were wholly spread out on either side of her by now, and Yang guessed that her next move would be to try and drag Yang towards the edge of the field and dump her off it.

Umber started dragging Yang towards the edge of the hexagon.

Yang pulled with both her arms, straining against the bonds. The whips tightened, and as they tightened, they bit into her aura more.

And as they bit, Yang got a little bit stronger.

She hadn’t lost a lot of aura yet, so her semblance wasn’t really kicking in, and to be honest, the damage she was taking from this position wasn’t much either, but every little helped as Yang hauled, heaving with all her ever but gradually growing might.

Umber scowled and began to look as though she was straining herself with concentration as she dragged Yang across the ground.

She reached the edge of the hexagon herself and began to turn, trying to sweep Yang across the floor and off the edge of their little world.

Yang took a deep breath, right down to her core muscles, before she tried to roll onto her side and pulled hard, firing Ember Celica as she did so for extra oomph.

She wrenched the lash that held her arms out of Umber’s hand. Yang flicked it away, sending it flying over her, skittering to the far edge of the battlefield, as she tried to disentangle her arms and neck.

She pulled with her legs, but instead of getting the other whip out of Umber’s hands, the lashes released her — Umber must have preferred to keep hold of one of her weapons.

She struck Yang with it, cracking it down on her, nine metal heads biting into Yang’s aura.

Yang leapt to her feet, flames flickering upon the edges of her hair, to see Umber charging towards her.

Yang grinned, slamming her fists together in anticipation.

The whips from Umber’s lash shortened dramatically as she charged, shortening so far that Umber could use them to hit Yang once more before she got too close even for that.

Yang threw a punch at Umber’s face. Umber blocked it, turning Yang’s blow aside with her forearm so that her fist didn’t connect and her shot went wild.

She dropped her lash and hit Yang in the gut again. Yang paid her back in kind, slamming her fist into her scale shirt as her eyes began to turn red. Umber jerked but didn’t double over. She hit Yang again in the stomach before she went for an uppercut. Yang swayed aside, letting Umber’s first soar up past her face before she grabbed her by the arm — turnabout was fair play — and threw her over Yang’s shoulder to slam her down onto the ground.

Umber rolled to her feet, avoiding the fist that Yang slammed down into the ground where her face would have been. Umber’s leather jacket whirled around her as she aimed a spinning kick at Yang, who dodged it with a spin of her own, taking a step back before snapping off two shots at Umber.

Umber rushed at Yang again, despite the shots, and despite the state of her aura. She threw a punch, which turned out to be a feint to make Yang move to block, in doing so leaving her face open to Umber’s real blow. Umber tried to sweep Yang’s legs out from under her, but Yang shifted her foot to let Umber’s kick pass harmlessly by, before she kicked Umber in the knee.

Umber grimaced, knocked off balance for a second.

Yang hit her across the cheek hard enough to snap her face around.

Yang drew back her fist for another blow.

“Enough!” Umber yelled, pulling her sunglasses off as she looked Yang in the eyes.

Her eyes were glowing, burning with intense yellow-orange light, like a fire burning behind them.

And Yang … couldn’t move.

She couldn’t move a muscle. Nothing. She couldn’t punch Umber in the face, she couldn’t kick her, she couldn’t get out of the way, she couldn’t so much as wiggle her fingers or her toes. She could breathe, which was good, but only shallowly, because it felt as though she couldn’t move her chest at all. Everything was absolutely rigid, as though she’d been turned to stone, become a statue of Yang Xiao Long to decorate someone’s garden.

It was … kind of terrifying, to be honest. She couldn’t even demand to know what Umber had done to her because she couldn’t move her lips! She couldn’t do anything. Her aura was still up, it was fine, but it wasn’t helping her at all. She was completely and utterly helpless.

She was even more helpless than she had been that day in the woods when she had dragged Ruby out on that wagon looking for her mother.

And this time, she didn’t think that Uncle Qrow was going to come and save her.

“My apologies,” Umber said, her breathing sounding a little ragged. “I didn’t want to use my semblance — it feels like a cheat — but I didn’t want to lose either, and you’re just too good for me.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

She put a hand around Yang’s frigid, frozen neck, and grunted with effort as she lifted Yang up.

Yang remained in the posture she had been in when Umber looked at her, poised to throw a punch that would never land.

She remained frozen in that way as Umber began to carry her across the battlefield.

She moved in an ungainly way, encumbered by the awkwardly positioned Yang, but she moved inexorably all the same.

This was … this was ludicrous! This was wrong! She’d been winning this fight, she’d been about to win this fight, but now she was going to get knocked out because her opponent had the most BS semblance ever! She could freeze Yang up just by looking at her! How was Yang supposed to fight that?! What kind of a test of skill was this?! This was supposed to be a tournament, not a ‘who got born with the best superpower’ contest!

Yang hoped that getting angry would trigger her own semblance and let her break through the effect of Umber’s, but no luck. She was still frozen, immobile, statuesque.

And she stayed that way right up until Umber dropped her off the edge of the arena.

She stayed that way as she fell, barely able to feel the air whooshing past her.

She stayed that way until the split second before she hit the ground when Umber, who had been watching her fall, put her sunglasses back on and turned away.

Yang unfroze, finishing the punch that had never landed, just as she landed on the surface with a hard slam.

Not as hard as the weight of defeat as she heard Professor Port say, “Yang Xiao Long has been defeated by ring out! Umber Gorgoneion wins the match!”

Yang sat up, but her shoulders were slumped, and her head was bowed. So, that was it then. She’d lost. She was out.

It’s not the end of the world, I guess — that comes later tonight — but still.

Sucks all the same.

I thought I might at least make it to the second round.

Stupid semblance.

Still, it was fun while it lasted. And hopefully, it kept the crowd happy. I guess that’s the important thing right now.

Although if either Weiss or Pyrrha could avenge me and kick the living daylights out of that girl up there, I consider that pretty important right now, too.

Yang looked up. She couldn’t see Umber Gorgoneion, but she had no doubt that her victorious opponent was basking in the adulation of the cheering crowd.

She couldn’t see Umber, but she could hear the crowd for sure.

But if she uses that semblance again, what could Weiss or Pyrrha do about it?

Maybe You Should Just Stop (New)

Maybe You Should Just Stop

“Yang,” Blake murmured. She placed one hand upon her heart. “She must be so disappointed.”

“She’s got a right to be, if she is,” Applejack said. “You were right, and I was wrong; she had that one in the bag. Umber couldn’t stop her with her whips, and once it became a fistfight … there was no way she was gonna lose before that semblance came into things.”

“I wonder why she didn’t just use that semblance at the start of the fight,” Fluttershy murmured. “I mean, it seemed pretty unstoppable.” She shuddered. “People with semblances like that always seem so scary.”

“Let’s not rush to judgement, Fluttershy, darling,” Rarity said. “After all, a lot of people would say the same about Starlight’s semblance, but she’s a dear.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“As for your other question,” Blake said, “it seemed like she might have been explaining that to Yang before she dropped her off the edge of the battlefield; it’s a pity that we couldn’t hear what she was saying. Although she might have been just gloating over her victory.”

“Perhaps,” Rarity allowed, “but given that she didn’t simply use her semblance at the very start of the fight in order to freeze her opponent solid, I prefer to think that she is at least something of a good sport.”

“Not so good that she let the better woman win,” Applejack pointed out. “If you feel like your semblance is too strong and it would be unfair to use it, then fine, but then don’t use it, take the loss if you come up against someone better than you in every other way. If you swear off using but then keep it around for when you’re about to lose otherwise … that don’t sit right with me.”

“For better or worse, semblances are a part of who we are,” Blake murmured. “What … is impressive and worrying in equal measure is that … it feels like a semblance like that, which is so powerful, should be an absolute drain on her aura, and considering that she didn’t have a lot of aura left … it didn’t seem to consume any aura at all.”

“That ain’t no thing,” Applejack said. “My semblance doesn’t burn any aura either.”

“Is that unusual?” Mom asked.

Blake looked past her mother and down the line at Applejack. “Are you saying that her semblance is passive?”

“'Passive'?” asked Mom.

“Most semblances need to be consciously employed by the person they belong to, and there’s a cost in aura for doing that,” Blake said. “When I use my clones, for example, then it costs me aura to do it, albeit not a lot, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to use my semblance as much as I do. Some semblances, like Applejack’s super strength, are always on; she’s always got super strength, she can’t turn it off.”

“And it don’t cost me no aura neither,” Applejack said.

“But passive semblances only affect the person who has the semblance,” Blake protested. “Your super strength impacts you; it doesn’t impact anyone else—”

“It does when Ah hit ‘em,” Applejack said.

Blake snorted, smiling a little. “Alright, point, but you understand what I’m saying; the idea of a passive semblance that is also an attack … I’ve never heard of a passive semblance that affected others before.”

“I have,” Shining Armor said. “Although you’re right, it is rare, but then, passive semblances are pretty rare in themselves. But there’s a specialist, Captain Ebi, that has a semblance that brings good fortune; doesn’t cost him any aura, always on, and it impacts his teammates as well as himself.”

“Lucky him,” Mom said.

Cadance looked at her, eyebrows rising.

Mom smiled.

Cadance’s lips crinkled gently upwards.

“And besides,” Applejack went on, “if ain’t a passive semblance, then what’s with the sunglasses? I think she can’t turn it off, so she wears the sunglasses normally so that she doesn’t go around freezin’ folk all over the place, and then she took the sunglasses off when she wanted to let Yang have it.”

“She can’t turn it off?” Fluttershy asked. “Put like that … she doesn’t sound so much scary as she seems … I feel sorry for her. It must be awful having a power like that, and you can’t do anything about it.”

“She can wear sunglasses,” Pinkie pointed out.

“Sunglasses are marvellous, Pinkie dear, but not always fashionable,” Rarity said.

“They ain’t always practical, either; Ah’m guessin’ she doesn’t have much fun in the dark,” Applejack pointed out. She paused. “Mind you, she’ll probably win this whole here tournament, so maybe that’ll take the edge off.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Win the tournament?” Twilight asked. “You think she’ll win the whole thing?”

“You don’t?” asked Applejack.

“No way!” Pinkie cried. “There’s no way that she’ll beat Rainbow Dash!”

“And what’s Rainbow gonna do when Umber down there takes her sunglasses off and looks at her?” Applejack inquired softly. “Ah ain’t sayin’ that Ah like it, but … that darn semblance of hers is lookin’ pretty unstoppable from where Ah’m sittin’.”

Blake had to admit, as much as she didn’t really want to, that Applejack had a point. Umber’s semblance might be difficult for her to live with, but at the same time, it also seemed to be pretty unstoppable. Yang hadn’t been able to do a thing about it once Umber had turned her semblance upon her. She’d been frozen, and Umber had been able to do what she liked to her. How was Rainbow, or Pyrrha for that matter, supposed to do any better? It was as though Umber had been born with an ‘I win’ button, and she deigned to not use it … unless she was in danger of losing.

Put like that, Blake could see why Applejack found there was an air of condescension around the whole thing, whether or not it was warranted.

Every semblance, every thing, everyone has a weakness. No one is invincible — sorry Pyrrha. Everyone can be beaten in the right circumstances.

It’s just a question of working out how.

Rarity got a compact out of her purse. She opened it up with a click, took out the powder puff, and started touching up the blush on her cheeks. After a second or two, dabbing at her right cheek, she paused. “Suppose that someone took a mirror out onto the field with them, perhaps they could persuade Umber Gorgoneion to look into it and freeze herself?”

“That might work,” Applejack said. “Except that even if you could take a mirror in with you, she’d freeze you too, as well as herself, and then what?”

“Do you think…?” Twilight began. “Umber wears those sunglasses so that nobody else is affected by her gaze, except when she wishes it so. Which means that she has to be looking directly at her target, no interruptions, in order for her semblance to have any effect. What if the opposite is also true, what if her opponent needs to be looking directly at her? Maybe all that Rainbow would need to do in order to be safe from her semblance is to put her goggles on?”

Applejack snorted. “Well, that makes it seem a lot less unstoppable.”

“It’s a theory,” Twilight said.

“A theory from you, so Ah’m inclined to believe it,” Applejack replied.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Blake said softly. “Not because of a lack of faith, but because … those are very thick sunglasses she’s wearing, the kind that wholly hide the eyes. I don’t think Rainbow’s goggles are opaque enough to do the trick.” She paused. “But I think you might be onto something, that you need to be able to see her just as she needs to be able to see you.”

“But she can see through her own sunglasses, right?” Pinkie asked. “I mean otherwise … she wouldn’t be able to see anything.”

“Maybe she’s using her aura to see for her?” Fluttershy suggested. “I mean, not see, but … I’m sure there are people who can use their auras to sense things.”

“It’s possible, but it’s not sight in the normal sense,” Shining Armor said. “It’s more like sensing presences; it’s short range, and really only any good for knowing that someone you can’t see is sneaking up on you. I think Miss Gorgoneion was acting as though she could see Miss Xiao Long.”

“So we’re back at obscuring,” Blake sighed. “Or not. I suppose we should hope that it is, because I don’t think that anyone who might go up against Umber can fight blind, especially not with the noise of the crowd making it impossible to hear anything. Merely obscuring their vision would be a lot better.”

“But if it doesn’t work,” Twilight said, “if it’s not enough, then … then it isn’t enough.”

“We just don’t know enough about her semblance to do more than speculate,” Blake said. “She’s managed to keep it hidden up until now, and we’re left to guess as to how it works exactly.” She paused. “I guess that whoever else ends up fighting Umber has reason to thank Yang for forcing her to unveil her semblance, rather than have the surprise sprung upon them, instead of her.” She paused again, for a little longer. “Not that that’s likely to be much consolation to Yang herself.”

“WHAT?” Nora cried, rising half out of her seat, gesturing with both hands towards the arena. “What was … there’s no way that can be legal, right?”

“There’s nothing illegal about using your semblance in a tournament,” Ren murmured calmly.

“There are semblances, and then there’s … that!” Nora declared. “That’s just … that’s just not fair! Did you see, her aura didn’t even go down!”

Pyrrha had, in fact, noticed that. It was one of the things that had caused her to lean forwards, hands clasped together beneath her chin, watching Umber Gorgoneion.

Quite a semblance; Pyrrha wasn’t sure if she would go quite so far as to call it unfair, as Nora just had, but it was certainly formidable.

Between the fact that Umber’s aura hadn’t gone down and the fact that she had taken off her sunglasses in order to use her semblance, Pyrrha was fairly certain it was a passive semblance. And yet, to be so powerful, and to impact others, not just herself…

Formidable indeed.

Up until this moment, Pyrrha would have rated Weiss as having the most powerful semblance of all the finalists. She was no longer so certain of that. What would even Weiss do if Umber turned her gaze upon her?

And what will I do, if the draw falls that way?

“Yang had that!” Nora went on, bubbling over like an unwatched pot. “Yang totally had that, and now—”

“And now, she doesn’t,” Ren said, calmly but not wholly without sympathy. “Getting angry on her behalf … might be what she wants, but I doubt it. All we can do now is be there for her in whatever state she’s in.”

Nora pouted. “Well, I feel like getting angry on her behalf; doesn’t what I want matter?”

“Not in this instance,” Ren said, as he got up. “Shall we go down and meet her as she comes out?”

“I don’t know; are that girl’s teammates going?” Nora asked. “I don’t want to be rubbing shoulders with them all smug and celebrating. Or with her either, for that matter.”

“She has a name,” Ren pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I have to use it,” Nora replied.

“Yang will probably be disappointed if we’re not there,” Ren observed. “So come on, and try to stay calm and not start any fights. Keep your emotions in check.”

“At least I have emotions,” Nora muttered.

Ren either didn’t hear that, or else he decided to pointedly ignore it; he began to leave the stands, heading down the steps that led, eventually, to the mouth of the tunnel which led to the arena. Nora followed after him, a slightly sullen look on her face and an even more sullen drag to her step, while looking as though she was trying very hard to ignore Umber’s Shade Academy teammates.

Fortunately, perhaps, they seemed to be ignoring her too. Pyrrha watched them all leave for a second, before turning her attention to the arena, where Umber Gorgoneion, sunglasses back on her face, was standing in the centre of the hexagon, basking in the acclaim of the crowd as the platform lowered to collect Yang.

“Poor Yang,” Penny murmured. “Maybe it’s a good thing that Ruby wasn’t here for this.”

“I think Yang might have liked to have had Ruby here for this, especially now,” Jaune murmured.

“She has Nora still, at least,” Pyrrha said. “And Ren, for whatever that may be worth.”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “He’s not exactly … what he says makes sense, but … yeah.”

“I’ve never heard of a semblance like that before,” Penny said. “It’s really powerful, huh?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although it would be nothing for you to worry about. Your Freedom is the perfect counter to a semblance like that.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I … yeah. Yeah, I suppose it is, isn’t it? Although, even if I used my semblance to free myself from her semblance, wouldn’t she just freeze me again by looking at me?”

“And then you would unfreeze yourself again, and round and round,” Pyrrha admitted. “But, hopefully, in the space between unfreezing yourself and being frozen, you would find some way to end the battle in your favour.” Pyrrha smiled. “Perhaps you should be in this round, instead of me.”

“Actually, it would be instead of me,” Rainbow reminded them as she ambled up behind their seats. “Which was the plan, until … stuff happened.”

“But if we’d stuck to the plan, I probably wouldn’t have found my semblance,” Penny pointed out as she turned in her seat to look at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow winced a little. “That … is maybe true, sure.” She drew in a deep breath. “Well, we finally know who the underdog is.”

“Her?” Jaune said, his voice rising to approach a squawk. “You think she’s the underdog, with that semblance?”

“It’s got nothing to do with being an actual underdog,” Rainbow explained. “Any more than I think Weiss is evil because I say that she’s the villain of the tournament—”

“Is she still?” Pyrrha asked. “I think she started to win the crowd over with that last battle.”

“That’s redemption; it doesn’t disprove what I said,” Rainbow replied. “The point is, it’s not about what kind of people we actually are; it’s all about how the crowd sees us. The hero, the villain, the underdog, they’re not reflections of ourselves; they’re creations of what people see out there in the arena and what they think they know about us outside of it.”

“So who’s the hero?” asked Penny.

“Pyrrha is,” Rainbow said, as though it were obvious.

Pyrrha sighed. I was afraid you might say that.

“Well, of course she is,” Penny said, “but why—?”

“Because Mistral hasn’t worn the laurels in forty years, and they’re really mad about it,” Rainbow said. “Because Pyrrha’s the best chance they’ve got, or at least, she’s got the story to make her the best chance that they’ve got: the Champion of Mistral, representing Mistral against the best of all the other kingdoms. Sure, she’s not from the right school, but at this point, I think they’re too desperate to care. Plus, she’s really good — and everyone online thinks she’s really nice, and really cute too.” She winked. “Rough luck, Jaune.”

Jaune shrugged. “I mean, they’ve got eyes, so…”

Rainbow went on. “So she’s the hero, because she’s the one that people are rooting for to succeed. Weiss is the villain, unfortunately, because of all this stuff with the SDC, and people didn’t like her because of her last name, even if that is changing a little bit. And now, it turns out that Umber is the underdog, because she’s from Shade, who do about as badly as Haven, only they don’t make so much fuss about it, and who would have expected a Shade student to do well? I mean, she’s come out of nowhere, semblance or no. Hero, villain, underdog.”

“Very interesting,” Pyrrha murmured. “But not particularly pertinent, I fear. Not compared with—”

“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?” Arslan asked as she sidled down the row of seats on which Pyrrha and the others stood, followed closely behind by Medea and Reece.

“We were about to get back to talking about Umber’s semblance,” Pyrrha explained.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” Arslan muttered. “I think they should have banned her, like they would have done in Mistral.”

“Really?” asked Penny. “They ban people because of their semblances?”

“Not as a rule, it’s not like they’re handing bans out left, right, and centre,” Arslan replied. “But when they’re silly things like that, then yes. I mean, you can just use that semblance and win the fight, where’s the sport in that? There’s no skill, there’s no contest, it’s barely worth the other person turning up at all. And that fight just then, Umber did her best, but Yang was having the best of it until, suddenly, bam! Semblance! Then nothing else mattered. Who wants to watch a fight like that?”

“The crowd don’t seem to have minded,” Rainbow pointed out.

“A crowd that doesn’t have enough Mistralians in it,” Arslan declared. “An unsophisticated crowd.”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow muttered sceptically. “Sure, it’s a powerful semblance, but … semblances are a part of who we are, and once you start saying that some semblances are … it doesn’t sit right with me.”

“All of my hard work counting for nothing because of something she was born with doesn’t sit right with me, either,” Arslan replied.

“Arslan isn’t talking about discriminating against her because of her semblance,” Reece interjected. “Only … it does make the competition a little lopsided, doesn’t it? And as entertainment, it lacks a little, don’t you think? The crowd are cheering now, but if Umber had taken her sunglasses off and frozen Yang in place as soon as the announcer said 'go,' what do you think they’d be saying?”

“Arslan may not be talking about discrimination, but I fear that she has suffered it,” Medea murmured. “I know the Gorgoneion family; at least, I know her sisters quite well, and I know her parents, but Lady Umber … I know not at all. I didn’t even realise that they had another sister; they never mentioned her. I wonder if that semblance is why: a semblance that she cannot control.”

“She seems to control it alright,” Arslan said.

“By wearing sunglasses all the time like some blind sightless creature who doesn’t want to scare the children with what is behind the glasses,” Medea replied. “Hardly ideal.”

“It is hardly ideal for her to be ignored by her family,” Pyrrha murmured.

“No,” Medea allowed. “No wonder she has turned her back on Mistral and embraced Vacuo and Shade Academy.”

“She seems to have landed on her feet,” Arslan said. She turned away, resting her behind upon the edge of the stands as she looked down at Pyrrha. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” Jaune began, but then stopped, with a glance at Arslan.

Arslan smirked as she folded her arms. “Holding out on me so that I get knocked out?”

“If you have an idea, Jaune,” Pyrrha said softly, “then please, share it.”

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it an idea,” Jaune admitted, “but … her semblance doesn’t cause a drain on her aura, it seems to be passive, but it clearly doesn’t work through her sunglasses. What if the opposite is true, what if in the same way that her view being obstructed obstructs her semblance, at the same time obstructing your view of her would do the same thing?”

Pyrrha leaned forward a little. “You think that wearing sunglasses will stop her semblance?”

“I’ve got a very stylish pair you can borrow if you wish, Lady Pyrrha,” Medea said.

“You can borrow mine, Arslan,” Reece added.

“How do you know that I don’t have my own sunglasses?” Arslan asked.

“Because you don’t dress like the sort of person who has their own sunglasses,” Reece replied.

Arslan opened her mouth for a second. “Okay, you happen to be right, but still.”

“Sunglasses might do it,” Jaune said. “Or goggles like Rainbow Dash. I hope that that’s enough, because the alternative is something like a blindfold, which I’m almost completely positive would do it, but…” He looked at Pyrrha. “Could you fight without being able to see anything?”

“I fear not,” Pyrrha said softly. “I have never had to in the past; Chiron attempted to teach me how to fight in the dark with no light, but those lessons focused upon using my ears, and—”

“All you’ll hear out there is Three Lions on a Shield,” Arslan said.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said.

“You could just cover your eyes with your shield,” Penny suggested.

“All it would take would be one slip,” Jaune said. “And then … frozen, just like Yang.”

“Not to mention the fact that I still wouldn’t be able to see,” Pyrrha added.

“It would be better to have something that would … would stay on Pyrrha’s face,” Jaune said. “All of this is assuming that what’s true for Umber is true for her target; it might not be.”

“If it isn’t, then she’s unstoppable,” Arslan muttered. “So it’s worth a try.”

Perhaps not completely unstoppable, Pyrrha thought, wondering if she could use her semblance even after Umber had frozen her with her own semblance. After all, she didn’t need to move her body in order to use her semblance; although she sometimes did, it wasn’t strictly necessary. So long as she could think, so long as she had aura, then she could, or at least she ought to be able to, use her semblance. She could continue to assail Umber even if Umber had frozen her solid.

If I were willing to reveal my own semblance, I could bludgeon her with Akoúo̱ from a distance, still or not.

If I were willing to reveal my semblance, as Umber has revealed hers.

Am I? Am I willing to throw away my advantage to win a tournament?

Yes, yes, she was, was the answer to that which lay in Pyrrha’s heart, and wasn’t even particularly difficult to find there. This was her last tournament, and she wanted to win it; she was happy to leave the arena behind, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to slink off, having been defeated at the last. If she lost, if Arslan or Weiss or Umber Gorgoneion turned out to be better than she was, then she would accept it with all the grace that she could muster.

But she was prepared to give it everything she had to avoid that. Even reveal her semblance to the world.

“At least neither of you are going to have to fight her in this round,” Jaune said. “Maybe … maybe we can find out a little more about how her semblance works before the next set of matches begins.”

As Yang stepped onto the platform, which had dropped down to pick her up, she considered that perhaps she ought to be a graceful loser and offer Umber her congratulations on a match well fought.

The trouble was, she didn't really feel like it right now.

And, in fairness to Yang, Umber didn't seem inclined to be a gracious winner, either, what with the way that she was completely ignoring Yang, standing with her back to her as she soaked up the love.

Although Yang didn't know what the crowd was cheering so hard for; that had been a—

Yang cut that thought off, snipping it like Crescent Rose slicing something’s head off. She didn't want to become some kind of bitter person who held a grudge about something like this.

Was she upset? Yes. Did she have a right to be upset? Also, yes. But did she want to shoo it or let it fester? Tempting, but probably not.

And besides, Professor Ozpin had said, when he told them to go and fight in the tournament in spite of the grimm horde and all, that they were doing a good thing by keeping the people in a good mood. That being the case, she probably had some obligations to try and be a good role model.

And so, as Umber stood with her back to Yang, arms up, basking in the glory of her triumph, Yang walked around her until she stood before her victorious opponent.

She held out her hand. "Good fight."

Umber's eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, which combined with her still, almost frozen face to make her expression unreadable as she looked down at Yang's hand.

"Yes," she said. "It was, wasn't it?" She turned away, without taking Yang's hand, and sauntered off in the direction of the tunnel.

Yang's eye twitched as she fought to prevent her hands from knotting into fists.

"At least I tried," she muttered under her breath.

Umber was met at the mouth of the corridor by her team, but Yang hung back until they had, in a crowing huddle around their leader, departed into the darkness of the tunnel itself.

Yang only followed once she felt like the distance between them was sufficient that she wouldn't have to hear any gloating — or at least not too loud anyway.

When she did follow, she found Nora and Ren waiting for her in the shadows.

"Sorry, guys," Yang said, with a sigh in her voice. "Looks like thus is the end of the line for Team Iron."

"Hey, hey, come on," Nora said, reaching out for Yang's shoulder. "You have got nothing to apologise for. You fought a good fight, and if it hadn't been for her stupid semblance—"

"Maybe," Yang said. "Probably. But she did have that semblance, and she used it on me, so … here we are."

"Yeah," Nora muttered. "Here we are. But keep your chin up, okay? You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"You fought well, showed your skill, and for what it might be worth, I think the crowd found nothing in you to disapprove of," Ren added. "As Nora said, you've nothing to be ashamed of."

"Aww, thanks, guys," Yang cooed, reaching out to wrap her arms around their shoulders and pull them into a side hug. "You’re the best teammates I could ask for, you know that? And the best friends too."

Nora smiled as she took Yang's hand. "Yeah, we know."

"And now," Professor Port's voice rose above the sound of the crowd, "let's have the draw for the third match of this round!"

Yang, Ren, and Nora manoeuvred around, still bound by Yang's arms around them, to look up at the screens as the portraits of the four remaining contestants began to spin around and round. With only four remaining, it was a lot easier to pick out Pyrrha's red hair, or Rainbow Dash's many colours, or distinguish Arslan from Sun as they rolled around and around before coming to a stop.

"The next match will be between Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon and Arslan Altan of Haven!" Professor Port declared as the crowd went wild.

"Oooh," Terra murmured, leaning a little closer to the TV.

"Oooooh!" Adrian cooed in imitation, leaning forward in Saphron's arms, while he waved his arms enthusiastically.

"'Oooh'?" Saphron asked. "What's this oooh?"

"Aye, love, what's up?" asked Cable.

Terra looked from one to the other. "You … come on, Dad, I expect that from Saphron, but weren't you paying attention at all?"

"Not really, no," Cable admitted. "You know I stay out of your mother's way when it comes to this kind of thing."

Terra shook her head, before flipping her attention between Saphron and her father. "It's the fated rivalry!" She declared. "Arslan is Pyrrha's best and most persistent challenger, she's contested Pyrrha's tournament finals, and now, here they are, meeting again for the last time before they both retire from the tournament circuit. This … this is the culmination of a story that's been going on for years."

"So it'll be a good fight, then, you think?" asked Saphron.

"I certainly hope so," Terra replied. "Because it'll be pretty disappointing if it isn't."

"Arslan Altan, huh?" Sky Arc said. "The one who soloed an entire team of four in her first round match?"

"Mistralians always make the best and bravest," Kendal said quietly — but not so quietly that her words went unheard.

"No, they don't; what kind of a thing to say is that?" demanded Sky. "Although, sure, this Arslan girl has shown she's pretty tough."

"But Pyrrha's never lost a fight, right?" asked River. "Isn't that what Jaune and Sunset said? She's … the Undefeatable Girl."

"It's 'the Invincible Girl,'" Violet corrected her from where she sat on the floor at the foot of the sofa. "Also the Evenstar, the Princess Without a Crown, and the Pride of Mistral Reborn."

"Well, there you go," River said. "Someone with a list of nicknames—"

"They're called epithets."

"No one likes a know-it-all, Vi, especially not pregnant women prone to extreme moods," said River sharply. "My point is, someone with epithets" — she leaned forward, putting a lot of emphasis upon the word — "isn't going to have any trouble from someone named Arslan, even if she can beat four people at once; those people weren't Pyrrha."

"I don't know about that," Aoko muttered from where she knelt beside the settee. "The livechat is lighting up about this fight. Apparently…" She tapped a couple of keys on the keyboard of her sleek, silver laptop. "They're rivals."

"'Rivals'?" Sky repeated. "How can you be rivals with someone who always beats you?"

"Because you keep trying, I suppose," Aoko said quietly. She tapped a couple more keys. "Yep, that's it, she keeps trying."

"And keeps on losing," Sky said. "Not what I'd call a rivalry."

"You called Petunia Thorpe your rival yourself when you were trying to get me to join your bowling team,” Kendal pointed out. “But, as I seem to recall, you’ve never once beaten her.”

"That," Sky said, "that is completely different; I will get her one of these days."

"I'm sure Arslan Altan tells herself that too," said Kendal.

Rouge came in, her tulle skirt flowing around her legs, rising and falling like waves to expose and then conceal her sandal-clad feet.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked.

"Two fights, but nothing important," Sky said. "Pyrrha's about to fight her rival."

Rouge frowned slightly. "A rival for someone who never loses?"

"Apparently," said Sky.

Rouge turned to the doorway, skirt swishing around her. "Mom, Dad!" she called out. "Pyrrha's fighting!"

By the lightness of the footsteps running outside, like rain pattering upon the roof of a house, Terri-Belle guessed that it was her youngest sister before Swift Foot burst in.

"Pyrrha and Arslan are up next!" she cried, one hand upon the varnished doorframe, her long flowing hair settling down behind her or over her shoulder.

Terri-Belle, sat at her desk, barely moved; she glanced up at Swift Foot, but did not move her head. Her hands stayed resting on the desk. When she spoke, her words were quiet, as if to speak too loudly would have made her ill. "I see."

Swift Foot blinked. "That's it? Pyrrha and Arslan are about to have their last fight before they both turn their backs on the arena, and all you have to say is 'I see'? And just sitting there? Aren't you coming?"

Terri-Belle breathed in and out. "No," she said, her voice not rising. "I have too much to do."

Swift Foot frowned as she walked into the room. "What's going on with you? Is something … what aren't you saying?"

Terri-Belle looked up. "What makes you think that there's anything going on, or that there is something I'm not saying?"

"You," Swift Foot said, gesturing at her. "Just … all of you. You were quiet at breakfast—"

"I'm often quiet."

"Not like this; you always listen even when you don't speak," Swift Foot replied. "Today, it was like you weren't even listening, and you look … you look a little sickly, to be honest. Are you feeling alright?"

No, Terri-Belle was not feeling particularly well; ever since her morning meeting with Father, she had felt as though she might throw up; if she had eaten very little at breakfast, it had been because she had felt delicate enough without trying to stuff a lot of food into an already unsettled belly. How could she be well, it having been put to her that Pyrrha Nikos, the greatest Champion of Mistral seen since the Great War, since the days when the Champion had served as valiantly in war as they fought fiercely in the arena, might have betrayed Mistral? How could she be well, being in receipt of such news? How could she eat and talk and watch her fight against Arslan Altan, knowing that?

"This…" She hesitated a moment, wondering if she ought to keep silent. But she did not wish to keep this to herself, and if Father's fears were true, then surely, they would need to face this peril as a family; Swift Foot was young, true, but the young had been called upon in the past to do their duty to mother Mistral; the time for Swift Foot Thrax to show her quality might arrive sooner than anyone had guessed. "This news from Vale," she murmured.

Swift Foot turned her head somewhat. "The accusations against Pyrrha's team leader?"

"And the earlier ones made against Pyrrha herself," Terri-Belle said. "Father fears they may be true. He fears that Pyrrha has betrayed us. Betrayed the kingdom."

Swift Foot stared at her for a second. "No," she said, not in disbelief but in flat denial.

"So certain?" asked Terri-Belle.

"Certain sure," Swift Foot responded. "This is … Pyrrha proved the falsehood of the earlier claims in single combat, to the death—"

"In which no one died, it could have been staged between them."

"They captured Cinder Fall last night, was that a scripted scene also?" Swift Foot demanded.

"I do not pretend to know everything that is going on in Vale," Terri-Belle said.

"But you think you know what is in the heart and head of Pyrrha Nikos, to judge it black?" Swift Foot said, her voice rising.

"I do not want this!" Terri-Belle snapped, rising to her feet even as her voice began to climb also. "I would give my right hand for it to be false. But Father fears it, and Father is wise, and Father … he has put the fear in me also. And now that he has done so, I cannot ignore it; for the sake of Mistral, I cannot ignore it, and…" She sighed. "Because I cannot say it makes no sense, I cannot ignore it. Perhaps Cinder Fall is a sacrifice spent to buy trust, perhaps she has an escape planned already, perhaps they are improvising desperately because their plan to bring down Vale failed."

"We are talking about a Champion of Mistral," Swift Foot reminded her, taking a step towards her. "She has an entry in the Red Book of the Colosseum. And she is a Nikos! The history of Mistral flows through her veins, the chronicles of Mistral echo with her name, that family could no more betray Mistral than they could cut out their own hearts. They could no more betray Mistral than we could."

"I envy you your childish certainty," Terri-Belle whispered.

Swift Foot's face contorted into a momentary scowl. "Think what you will," she said, "but until I see more proof than scurrilous rumour spread by unknown churls, I'll not believe. And I will go, and witness the last fight between Pyrrha and Arslan, whether you're coming or not." She turned, her voluminous hair swishing around her, and without another word strode from the room.

Her steps departing were heavier than they had been upon the way.

Terri-Belle bowed her head. "May the best woman win," she whispered.

Selena reached out and took Diana's hand, the two sisters offering each other a squeeze of mutual reassurance.

“Fate weaves, it seems,” Lord Wong declared. “Now we shall see some fun.”

“Indeed, Lord Wong, indeed she does,” Lady Nikos replied, a slight smile playing across her wrinkled lips. “If the tournament had concluded without these two coming face to face in the ring, it would have been a great disappointment to Mistral.”

For this, the final day of the tournament, the day when all the glory in Pyrrha’s matches would be hers and hers alone, the day when she would shine unfettered by the deeds of Miss Shimmer or her other teammates, Lady Nikos had invited Lord Wong, the ambassador to Vale, and his wife and daughter, to join her in her box. After all, Lord Wong had been a gracious host to her while she had been here in Vale, inviting her to dine with him on the first night of the tournament, and while the lord ambassador could doubtless have acquired his own box had he wished to, it was the act of a good guest to extend the invitation.

Plus, she was not above admitting to the base vanity of wanting witnesses close by to Pyrrha’s triumph, where she could witness their reactions.

And Lord and Lady Wong were not poor company, by any means; if they had been, then she would not have invited them, courtesy or no; she did not want to spend this glorious day in the company of boors.

It had occurred to her, upon hearing Miss Shimmer’s warning, that perhaps the invitation had been a mistake — she did not want to put the young girl in danger, after all — but then, with Pyrrha and so many others so close by, the Colosseum was probably safer than many other places in Vale at present.

Lady Nikos put such thoughts out of her mind. If fortune willed it so, then a battle would develop, although none would will that it be so. But, until the battle came, until or unless the storm broke, there was still a tournament, still a fight to watch, still a laurel crown for Pyrrha to claim.

“It’s too soon!” complained Lady Soojin. “I wanted them to meet in the final!”

Lady Wong chuckled. “That would have been very appropriate, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Lady Nikos conceded. “You have hit the nail upon the head, Lady Soojin; that would have been a fine way to end the tournament, and both their careers as fighters. Sadly, it is not to be, and we must be content with a fight between them, even if it is placed too early.”

Lady Soojin didn’t look entirely convinced. She folded her arms. “And why do they have to quit? I want them to keep fighting!”

“I wouldn’t be averse to that myself,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Although, when Pyrrha wins this tournament, the greatest and grandest and most celebrated tournament in all of Remnant, where could she go from here anyway?”

“More trophies?” Lady Soojin suggested.

Lady Nikos chuckled softly, while Lord and Lady Wong laughed.

“Well, yes,” Lady Nikos said. “Yes, there would have been that, at least.”

“So why is she quitting?” Lady Soojin asked.

“Because Pyrrha … because Pyrrha wishes to serve the people of Mistral, as her ancestors did,” Lady Nikos said. “And though it is not what I would have chosen, I cannot say it is unworthy of her name. So we must be of good heart and accept her choice,” as I must accept other choices she has made that I dislike the more, “and enjoy such hopefully excellent spectacles as remain to us.”

There was a moment of silence in the competitors’ stands, at least where Pyrrha and Arslan were.

“Well,” Medea murmured, plucking lightly at her stola with one hand. “This is, on the one hand, something greatly to be desired, something the absence of which would no doubt have disappointed, but on the other hand … it does put we of Mistral in a somewhat awkward position with regard to our … loyalties.”

Pyrrha rose to her feet, with one hand idly smoothing out her sash as it fell down beside her. “You will cheer for your classmate and fellow Haven student, of course.”

“There’s no 'of course' about it; cheer for whoever you like,” Arslan said. “This battle will not be decided by the love of the crowd.” She paused for a moment. “I appreciate your nagma— your magnanimity, Pyrrha, but I don’t need it. Now kiss your boyfriend, say something to your friend, and let’s not keep the people waiting.”

“No, that would never do,” Pyrrha murmured, turning away from Arslan — and Medea and Reese — to look down on Jaune.

Although he stood up in fairly short order, so she had no need to look down on him; rather, she had to turn her eyes upwards, just a little.

Jaune, however, had cause to look ever so slightly down at her; a smile played across his face as he opened his mouth. His blue eyes glanced away from Pyrrha towards Arslan. “You know this is kind of awkward with you standing right there.”

“Maybe that’s what I want?” Arslan suggested. “To make it awkward so that I can hurry you along and not be waiting while you have a big moment?”

“Are you so eager to rush headlong to your next defeat?” Pyrrha asked in a deceptively sweet voice, without taking her eyes off Jaune.

Arslan sucked in a breath. “Oh! Listen to her!”

Jaune grinned, and with one hand, he reached out, his fingertips gently stroking at her cheek before brushing aside one of the strands of hair that framed her face, knocking the chain from which her teal drop hung away. “You’ve got this, right?”

“In truth, I know not for certain,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I am determined.”

“Then you’ve got this,” Jaune said and put his hand upon the back of her neck, two of his fingers upon her gorget, two upon her skin, as he bent down a little to kiss her.

“Good luck, Pyrrha!” Penny cried, leaping up from her seat. “Um, no offence!”

“Of course I’m not taking offence!” Arslan said.

“You can do this, Arslan,” Reese declared. “Even if you don’t have to do it for Mistral, you can still do this for yourself.”

Arslan didn’t look at her, but as Pyrrha looked over her shoulder, she saw Arslan reach out and pat Reese on the shoulder.

“Good fortune smile upon you both, and honour fall like rain upon your names,” Medea murmured.

Rainbow held out one fist. Pyrrha gently bumped it with her own.

Rainbow nodded.

“Are you ready?” Pyrrha asked Arslan.

“Am I ready?” Arslan repeated. “P-money, I’ve been ready for this all year.”

And so they walked together, out of the stands and down the steps that led down into the corridor. Their footfalls — more Pyrrha’s than Arslan’s, since her boots made more of an impression than Arslan’s slippers — echoed upon the metal steps that clanked beneath them.

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha said as they reached the bottom of the steps, “that we got the chance to do this, one last time; I mean that, most sincerely.”

Arslan grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, me too, P-money. It’s like Lady Medea said, it wouldn’t have felt right, this finishing without me getting one last shot at you, especially after I came all this way.” As they walked down the corridor, Arslan plucked one of the hairpins out of her mane and twirled it between her fingertips. “Listen,” she said, but then stopped, falling silent as Umber Gorgoneion and her teammates swept past.

Pyrrha and Arslan stepped aside, making way for them to move down the middle of the corridor.

Umber stopped in between the two of them. Her teammates stopped as well, but made space so that none of them stood between Umber and either Pyrrha or Arslan.

Although they might as well have stood between Umber and Pyrrha, for Umber paid Pyrrha no mind at all, her face turned only towards Arslan.

“Good luck,” she said, “Golden Lion of Mistral.”

She turned away and swept onwards, attended by her teammates.

Arslan snorted as she watched her go. “Someone knows who she wants to win.”

“I gather that she isn’t particularly fond of we patricians,” Pyrrha murmured. “I can’t say I blame her. We … sometimes fail those most in need.”

Arslan frowned. “What do you mean?”

I mean that Phoebe was abusing her stepsister, and we did nothing to stop it, Pyrrha thought. “I’m afraid I can’t go into specifics,” she said. “There is someone involved who would not welcome it, but … suffice to say that the walls of our great houses sometimes conceal shadows that should have the bright light of condemnation shone upon them.”

The frown remained on Arslan’s face. She nodded, somewhat absently, and turned away from Pyrrha, but before she had taken a third step, she turned back. “Are you okay?”

“I … mean no disrespect to you, Arslan, I say this with all due honour, but though I do not take you lightly, nor do you unnerve me.”

“Well, thank you for your blunt honesty, I suppose, but that isn’t really what I meant,” Arslan replied. “I mean … are you okay, with … I don’t want to win because you were distracted, or out of sorts, or—”

“You have my undivided attention,” Pyrrha declared. “On that, you have my word.”

“Good to know,” Arslan said. “But even so…” She put the hairpin back. “Pyrrha, are we friends?”

Pyrrha blinked. “Yes. Yes, I should say we were, now.”

“So would I,” Arslan murmured. “Who would have thought, huh? So, then, as your friend, are you okay? With … this stuff—”

“About Sunset?” Pyrrha asked. She sighed. “I would rather not talk about it.”

“It’s a pity that she had to leave on the special mission,” Arslan said. “I know that she would have wanted to be here for this; it was clear watching you two how much you meant to one another; she should be here for this. But then, when did the high muckamucks care about stuff like that, huh?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a second. “You’re not going to ask me if it’s true?”

“I don’t care,” Arslan said. “I’m not here to wag my finger in anybody’s face; I can’t stand that kind of thing. The only thing that matters is ‘are you okay?’”

“I … I do wish that Sunset was here today,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I swear to you, you will see me at my best. You will not take a victory from me in a moment of weakness.”

Arslan grinned. “That’s the spirit. Shall we?”

They met Yang on the way, and Ren and Nora, the three of them arm in arm so that, again, Pyrrha and Arslan had to step aside for them.

“Commiserations, Yang,” Pyrrha murmured.

“It’s a tournament; someone has to lose,” Yang replied philosophically. “But you’d better win out there, okay?”

“And now we know who she wants to win,” Arslan muttered.

“You have your supporter, I have mine,” Pyrrha replied. “Although as you said, this will not be decided by the crowd.”

Together, they reached the mouth of the tunnel, with the arena before them, the light reaching in from without to grasp at them, as if it were trying to drag them those last few steps into the sight of the crowd.

They could already hear the crowd, cheering, shouting, singing, of course. Three Lions warred with the peculiar anthem of the Arslan Army.

“Do you want to go first,” asked Arslan, “or shall I?”

“Shall we not go out together?” Pyrrha replied.

“No, of course not, you know how this works!” Arslan cried. “One of us goes out first, and then the other one swaggers out after to challenge them.”

“In that case, I had best go first,” Pyrrha murmured. “You swagger so much better than I do.”

“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” Arslan agreed. She held out one hand and offered Pyrrha the very slightest bow. “After you then, Lady Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha rolled her eyes just a tad, but stepped out regardless, out into the light, into the cheering and the shouting, into the acclaim that fell on her like autumn— no, she would not think of that. She had promised Arslan her undivided attention, after all.

Into the light, and the acclaim that fell on her like gentle dew from out of the clouds that did not trouble the Valish sky today.

They cheered and sang, and when Pyrrha acknowledged them with a wave of one arm, twirling on her toe like a dancer to acknowledge them all, her red sash trailing after her, they cheered even louder still.

Perhaps it was all her imagination, a mere romantic fancy, but as she walked to the far side of the central hexagon, Pyrrha thought she really could hear Jaune cheering for her, his voice distinct from all others.

Pyrrha stopped. In Mistral, in the great Colosseum, it was the custom to bow to the Imperial box before the match began, though the box was more often than not empty these days. There was no box here, but there was such a crowd that … Pyrrha had not always loved the crowd in the arena, had not always even liked them, had sometimes resented their attentions. Nevertheless, it could not be denied that they had been her companion these past years, watching her, supporting her.

However, she had sometimes felt they were owed some token of appreciation.

Pyrrha turned eastwards, towards far off Mistral, and bowed, her red hair falling over her shoulder.

The crowd, which Pyrrha thought had already reached its highest volume, somehow roared even louder, a great thunderclap of sound erupting from the stands.

Pyrrha smiled, if only slightly, as she faced the mouth of the tunnel out of which she had emerged.

Arslan swaggered out, just as she had said she would, hips swaying exaggeratedly, arms out on either side of her as if she were appealing to the crowd to cheer yet louder. She raised her hands like Seraphis commanding the winds to blow about the mountain, and the crowd did grow louder still as Arslan strutted her way across the arena to the central hexagon.

She, like Pyrrha, turned east and offered the crowd a bow from the waist.

"Nicely thought of," she said to Pyrrha as she straightened. "Though I wonder what they make of that here in Vale?"

"Perhaps they make of it that this is the price of involving Mistralians?" suggested Pyrrha as the rest of the arena floor retracted around them and they descended on their floating platform down into the depths.

"Like the Erechtheum," Arslan muttered.

"I wouldn't know; I never competed there," Pyrrha said.

"You didn't miss much; the standard wasn't all that high," Arslan replied. "Creepy atmosphere, though, if you like that kind of thing." She looked up, to the crowds who now looked down upon them. "Down into the underworld we go, to leave as dreams, true or false."

"Except that, win or lose, we will leave by the same exit," Pyrrha pointed out. "No matter what happens here, we are true dreams, both of us."

Arslan nodded. "True dreams," she repeated. "As dreams are made of." She grinned. "You know, this place, the arena, as an idea, I mean, not just this one, it … it's kind of like life. We emerge out of darkness into the light, we strut our stuff for the approval of the gods and all of those who came before us, and then … back into the dark we go."

"I … suppose so," Pyrrha said. "But there is so much more to life than is represented here, as you may find out for yourself, next year, if you are open to it?"

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "Boyfriends with floppy hair."

"Love," Pyrrha said. "Amongst other things."

"Maybe," Arslan muttered. "But it was no bad life this, was it, really?"

Pyrrha did not reply.

"Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!" Professor Port cried. "Arslan Altan of Haven!"

Arslan waved to the crowd again.

"Three!" shouted Professor Port.

Pyrrha pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ off her back and across she shoulders, keeping Miló in spear form as she flowed into form, knees bent, back hunched, low to the ground, shield before her.

"Two!"

Arslan, too, settled into her stance, legs spread apart, fists at the ready.

"One! FIGHT!"

They rushed towards one another, like two mighty winds blown in different directions across the barren plain, but they did not clash, like lions or bulls, they did not come together in a crash of arms that would echo throughout the arena. No, they had fought one another too often, knew one another too well, for that. No, as they closed the distance with one another, their thunderous charge turned into a light pitter-pattering rain as they darted left, then right, footfalls light upon the surface of the arena as both Pyrrha and Arslan sought some slight advantage, some unpreparedness, some chink in the armour of their foe.

Like tiny lizards upon the burning sands of Vacuo, they hopped back and forth, Pyrrha feinting with her spear, jabbing it brief distances in the hope of drawing Arslan out. Arslan was unfazed, just as Pyrrha knew better than to take the gestures and the feigned forward lunges from Arslan seriously. She had seen what an earnest assault from Arslan looked like, and that was not it.

They tracked each other, moving almost in unison first one way, and then the other, sliding first towards the one end of the hexagon, and then to the other, neither one finding the advantage they were looking for, that moment of weakness that would give them the confidence to step forward.

At some point, one of them would have to make the first move. To do so would be risky, but it would also show a degree of confidence.

Pyrrha stepped forward, thrusting her spear towards Arslan’s chest. Arslan twisted her body lithely as Miló thrust past her face. Arslan reached to grab the red-gold spear, but Pyrrha yanked it back too fast for that, drawing Miló towards her, bringing Akoúo̱ up to protect herself as Arslan pirouetted and, with a force that made her attempt at grasping Miló seem perfunctory by comparison, threw a punch straight towards Pyrrha’s shield.

It didn’t land, any more than Pyrrha’s thrust with her spear, as Pyrrha skittered backwards out of the way and Arslan’s fist rammed into empty air.

Arslan, too, retreated, one hand reaching for the necklace of fire dust beads around her neck. The dust ignited as Arslan tore the bead from off the necklace, turning into a fireball which she flung at Pyrrha.

It was Pyrrha’s turn to bend away, letting the fireball fly past her to strike the shield, and it was her turn to twirl also, spinning around as she rushed forward to throw her shield at Arslan.

Arslan batted it aside with a punch as Pyrrha came on, Miló held in both hands now, spear whirling. Arslan gave ground before her, retreating towards the edge of the hexagon.

Akoúo̱ flew back towards Arslan’s head.

Arslan didn’t even need to look as she dived to the ground, rolling towards Pyrrha, who jumped nimbly over her even as she casually held out one hand to recover her shield.

She landed on one toe, turning in place and aiming a kick at Arslan as the latter sought to rise.

Arslan ducked down again and let Pyrrha’s foot pass harmlessly overhead. She aimed a kick at Pyrrha’s leg, but Pyrrha had already leapt, up and over Arslan, spinning around in mid-air to land facing her.

She thrust Miló at Arslan again, her spear extending outwards with a bang, but Arslan bent backwards, and once Miló had passed overhead, she performed two backflips in retreat to open up some distance between the two of them.

Arslan threw another fireball at her as Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword mode. Pyrrha sidestepped the fireball before throwing Akoúo̱ at Arslan for the second time; Arslan expected that, batting the shield right back at Pyrrha, who caught it on her left arm — but she was hoping that Arslan found the fact that she had just thrown Miló at her a little more surprising, for Pyrrha rarely did so.

Certainly, Arslan didn’t seem to have seen it coming, her eyes widening as she struck the shield, only to behold the sword like a snake that had been waiting beneath the rock she had so carelessly picked up.

She twisted like an eel, her speed and reflexes coming to her rescue, Miló only shaved a hair off her aura as it flew by.

And as it flew by, Arslan charged. With Pyrrha having disarmed herself, she must have thought that she would get no better moment.

Pyrrha brought up Akoúo̱ to defend herself, holding her shield up in front of her like, well, like exactly what it was — until she drove it forward like a battering ram aimed at the wall of Arslan’s face.

Arslan’s slid smoothly beneath the shield, and as Akoúo̱ passed above her, and as she passed by and beneath Pyrrha, she threw one fist straight up towards Pyrrha’s face.

It met Pyrrha’s fist coming the other way, their knuckles colliding with a crack that caused both their auras to drop a little. Pyrrha shoved Akoúo̱ downwards at Arslan, but Arslan caught the shield in her other hand for all of a second before Pyrrha pulled it free.

Arslan tried to sweep Pyrrha’s legs, but Pyrrha leapt over Arslan’s kick, endeavouring to land square on Arslan if she had not rolled away, coming upright to throw another fireball at Pyrrha, at what must have seemed too close range for Pyrrha to dodge — but Pyrrha abandoned Akoúo̱ to take the blow, using polarity to hold the shield in place just a mite longer than gravity would have allowed as she leapt back, and waited for the blast to hurl her shield back at her.

She began to run to where Miló had landed, all the way on the other side of the battlefield, teetering on the very edge of the hexagon.

Pyrrha ran, and Arslan pursued, as though she were a lion in truth and Pyrrha a wildebeest or gazelle.

Or a buffalo, which turn at bay and seek to gore the lion with its horns. Pyrrha gripped her shield in both hands as she ran.

This might work better with Miló, but I will work with what I have. She could, of course, have just summoned Miló into her hand, but what could be excused as the properties of a disc-shaped shield became less excusable with a sword, and Pyrrha had real enemies to whom she did not wish to broadcast all that she could do — no offence to Arslan, of course.

That ship may have sailed after my fight with Cinder, but so far, I seem to have gotten away with it.

No, it was Akoúo̱ that she would use now, for this thing that she had never tried before.

But just because she had never done it herself didn’t mean that it was not worth doing; in fact, the success that her friends had enjoyed in that respect seem to argue for quite the opposite.

Pyrrha focussed her aura in the shield, or around its edges, surrounding it as she might have with her semblance — thinking of it that way helped, since this was not something she was terrifically practised with, pouring … no, not pouring — she didn’t want to expend that much aura — just enough instead of too much, she … she wanted to turn the tap on, but not let it burst out to fill the sink.

She let her aura flow mildly out of her, not reducing her aura exactly, not yet, but leaving her, to round the edges of her shield like a band. Pyrrha could feel it stretched out, hovering upon the edge of her control, trembling somewhat.

Blake can probably do this much quicker than I can.

No matter, as long as it works.

I’m reasonably certain that Arslan won’t see this coming.

She and Arslan had fought so often, known each other so long, that they knew all of one another’s tricks — or they had. Arslan hadn’t seen this one.

This is something I picked up here at Beacon.

Pyrrha turned, like the buffalo, and as she turned, she swung her shield around in a wide arc, in both hands, like the discus it somewhat resembled. Perhaps Arslan thought that she was going to throw it again, but Pyrrha didn’t throw it.

She unleashed the aura that she had banded around the edges of the shield, letting it burst out in an arc of crimson that erupted outwards in a wave across the battlefield. Arslan was caught by that arc, struck in the midriff, lifted up, and hurled backwards.

Now, Pyrrha threw her shield at her, hitting Arslan square in the midriff. Pyrrha had somewhat hoped to make a clean end to this battle, bearing Arslan so far backwards that she fell off the edge of the hexagon, but although Arslan hit the floor, skidding further backwards, she produced Nemean Claw out of her sleeve and jammed it hard into the surface of the hexagon, arresting her movement before she reached the edge.

Pyrrha made haste to retrieve Miló as Arslan got to her feet.

Arslan held Akoúo̱ in one hand, until she threw it off the edge of the battlefield.

Pyrrha did not retrieve it, she only swept her sword outwards, a cutting gesture through the air, in a sign of her continued readiness.

Arslan rolled her shoulders. “That was new,” she said.

“I thought it might be wise to have something that you hadn’t seen from me,” Pyrrha replied.

Arslan made a sort of snorting chuckle. “Not your usual style, I’ve got to say.”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I thought it might be worth trying.”

Arslan smiled, settling once more into a fighting stance, one hand up, the other fist drawn back, legs bent and spread apart.

Pyrrha remained as she was, sword out by her side, back straight, legs straight, sash swaying slightly by her side.

The two faced one another for a moment.

Then Arslan began to charge, and Pyrrha charged to meet her, once more the two of them coming together, and this time, they did not shuffle back and forth in fruitless quest for advantage; this time, they came together – but not like waves, not like rocks, not like bulls or stags or even lions, no. Pyrrha and Arslan came together like dancers, like partners who had practised the steps so often that they knew them by heart, backwards — and, in Pyrrha’s case, in heels — and whose every individual movement fitted together as part of a complex, flowing pattern.

A pattern of failure in their respective efforts to hit one another, true, but there was a kind of beauty in it, nonetheless, that came from them both being so swift, so attuned to one another, that their efforts interlocked as pieces of a puzzle.

Pyrrha slashed at Arslan, Arslan swayed out of the way before throwing a punch at Pyrrha’s shoulder, which Pyrrha in turn twisted at the waist to avoid; Pyrrha reversed her grip on Miló for a backslash, Arslan bent over backwards at the knees to let the sword pass overhead, but Pyrrha was already moving in anticipation of Arslan’s response, a palm-strike aimed at her chest, which duly arrived, save that it did not land because Pyrrha spun away, moving around Arslan’s flank and forcing her to turn also.

Their sashes swirled around them, adding to the air of choreography.

Move, countermove, counter to that counter, they had fought so often, seen each other at their best, that they could each predict what the other would do, how they would respond. Neither of them parried. Arslan had more to lose in that regard, if she sought to block Miló with her forearms, but Pyrrha too would take a hit to her aura if she allowed Arslan’s fists to connect with any part of her, even to prevent a greater impact. Instead, they dodged, their lithe and limber bodies swaying like willow trees caught in the wind.

For all that she was technically being frustrated, Pyrrha found herself smiling. For all that she was not striking blows, nevertheless, there was a joy to be found in this, in facing off against someone who could keep up with her, who was her equal in courage and in skill and who had no malice in her heart that made it imperative that Pyrrha conquer this day.

Not that she did not intend to conquer this day, but this was, in its own way, rather fun. Here, she could forget everything else, forget about everything that had happened with Sunset and Ruby, forget about dark dreams, forget about the grimm and Salem. It was as Arslan had said: this arena was like a world entire unto itself, a world where she and Arslan were the only people living.

She and Arslan, dancing together.

She hoped the crowd was appreciating it as much as she was, as she and Arslan danced around one another, dodging one another’s blows, having their blows dodged in turn, moving in such synchronisation that they might have planned it out beforehand.

Both of them began to feign mistakes, leaving openings to tempt the other in; neither Pyrrha nor Arslan took the bait, they were too wise for that; that gap was not an accident, that stumble was deliberate, that overswing was an invitation. Or perhaps not, perhaps there were real mistakes, but they were both too cautious to take them. For her part, Pyrrha hoped not, and thought not on Arslan’s part. Certainly, she wasn’t going to hazard it and risk the jaws of the trap slamming shut on her.

If she needed to break the deadlock, another aura slice would be preferable, from Miló this time.

Pyrrha was beginning to concentrate her aura in the sword when Arslan retreated, abruptly breaking off contact to skid backwards across the hexagon.

Pyrrha did not pursue. She waited, still, Miló held before her, waiting to see what Arslan would do next.

Arslan took off her necklace of fire dust beads. “I’ve got something new for you as well, Pyrrha,” she declared.

The fire dust beads, all of the beads, began to spark as Arslan threw them up into the air, wrenching apart the string that bound them so that the fast burning beads dispersed, flying this way and that, becoming fireballs which rose higher, and higher, burning brighter and brighter as they rose.

And then began to fall, like bombs dropped from one of General Ironwood’s cruisers.

Pyrrha didn’t look too shocked — Arslan wouldn’t expect her to look too shocked — but she reacted as Arslan expected she would; or, rather, she reacted as she guessed as the fireballs fell that Arslan expected that she would. Arslan wouldn’t expect this to put Pyrrha’s aura in the red, at least not by itself, but she would expect Pyrrha to be preoccupied with avoiding getting hit too much. And so, guided by her expectations of what was in Arslan’s mind, Pyrrha darted this way and that, trying to avoid the worst of the descending fire, searching half in vain for a safe space upon this barren battlefield.

And then the fireballs fell, landing all around her, exploding all around her, fire washing over her, heat warming her, flames ripping at her aura.

Yes, it hurt somewhat — she could feel the flames even through her aura — but Pyrrha bore it nonetheless; she stopped moving and endured the nearest fires, trusting that she had sufficient aura to bear it.

She stood still, and as the flames concealed Arslan from view — and also concealed Pyrrha from Arslan — she switched Miló from sword to rifle mode.

Arslan burst out of the flames, fist drawn back, expecting to find Pyrrha disoriented, flinching perhaps, seeking safety.

Instead, she found herself staring down the barrel of Pyrrha’s rifle.

Pyrrha fired; once, twice, thrice, four times, five times, emptying Miló’s magazine into her target. Arslan twisted in mid-air, but though she was agile and swift, the bullets were as swift or more, and she could not dodge all of them; at least two shots, maybe three, struck home, knocking her back, and as she was knocked back, Pyrrha switched Miló from rifle back to sword and went for her.

Now it was Arslan who was disoriented, confused by the failure of her stratagem. Pyrrha’s slashed once, twice, three times in quick succession, Miló tracing golden patterns through the air, every blow striking home before Arslan recovered enough to block the fourth blow — with her forearm, losing more aura in the process. Arslan threw a punch, Pyrrha twirled aside, sash whirling around her, and as she twirled, she grabbed with her free hand for Arslan’s outstretched wrist.

A risky move, one she wouldn’t have dared if she hadn’t felt the momentum of the battle on her side.

Arslan tried to pull back, pull away.

She was not quite fast enough.

Pyrrha’s hand closed like a vice on Arslan’s wrist, pulling her around, pulling her off balance.

Arslan tried to step into it rather than be pulled off balance, lunging for Pyrrha with her shoulder down, trying to bull into her. Pyrrha stepped away; Arslan body-checked her, shoulder colliding with Pyrrha, but not heavily enough to knock her down — and in the meantime, Miló descended upon Arslan’s back for another slashing stroke.

And Pyrrha held onto Arslan’s arm.

She let go of Miló, letting the sword fall to the ground as she joined her one hand on Arslan with the other.

Arslan hit her in the side, hard, and again, but Pyrrha ignored it, only allowing herself to wince in pain as, with all her strength, she hauled Arslan up over her shoulder and slammed her down, head first, into the floor.

“Arslan Altan’s aura has been depleted!” Professor Port cried. “Pyrrha Nikos wins the match!”

Pyrrha took a step back, breathing a sigh of relief as the crowd cheered ecstatically.

Pyrrha raised an arm to acknowledge their cheers — which somehow made them cheer all the louder — turning in place to face every part of the arena for at least a little while.

The cheers fell on her like autumn leaves.

It is such a pity that…

I wish Sunset were here to see this.

Pyrrha found, to her dismay, that the smile she wore was becoming her fake, practised, public relations smile; she could not feel the joy that she had felt when she and Sunset had triumphed over Starlight and Trixie.

As the real world intruded into the cloistered world of the arena, so, too, it made this victory seem hollow.

Pyrrha looked at Arslan, who seemed to be feeling even worse than Pyrrha. She hadn’t got up. She was sitting on the ground with her hands around her knees, head turned away from Pyrrha, face bent dejectedly downwards.

Pyrrha’s hand fell to her side as she took a step closer, and then another.

“You fought very well,” Pyrrha ventured.

Arslan snorted. “Not well enough.”

Pyrrha winced. “I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'!” Arslan barked, facing turning to look up at her. “What are you sorry for?”

“I … I’m not sure,” Pyrrha admitted. “But you seemed rather upset and I…” She hesitated. “I suppose I was trying to—”

“To make me feel better?”

“Put like that, it sounds rather absurd,” Pyrrha conceded.

“Well, thank you anyway,” Arslan muttered. “But there’s nothing you can do to make me feel better.”

Pyrrha frowned, silently remaining where she was, stood over Arslan, casting a shadow over her.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

She was about to move away, the arena was lowering to allow her to retrieve Akoúo̱, but before she could step away, Pyrrha heard something, a single sound cutting through the wild cheers and shouting of the crowd in the stands.

Many voices, raised in a single song.

“Sweet Caroline, bah-bah-bah,

Good times never seemed so good!”

Pyrrha found a smile returning to her face, a genuine smile. “I know that there’s nothing I can say,” she said, “but perhaps they can?”

Arslan looked up, looked around, her olive eyes widening as the words of the song fell down upon her.

“I’ve been inclined,

To believe they never would!”

“But…” Arslan murmured. “But I lost!”

“But you fought well,” Pyrrha reminded her. “And I think that’s all that really matters to them.” She held out her hand. “Now are you going to sit there, or are you going to acknowledge them?”

Arslan hesitated for a second, but as the song went on, a grin spread across her face.

“You know, you were wrong earlier, Pyrrha,” she said. “Love does exist in this world.” She placed her fingers into the palm of Pyrrha’s hand.

Pyrrha’s fingers closed around her hand. “Of a sort, I suppose,” she said, pulling Arslan up onto her feet. “I had a lot of fun.”

Arslan hesitated. “Me too, I suppose,” she said. “You know what, there’s no 'suppose' about it; this was fun.” She raised her hand up in the air, prompting cheers to interrupt the singing for a second. “It’s been an honour, P-money, and it’s been fun.”

They embraced as the cheers of the crowd surrounded them.

Author's Note

The picture of Arslan swaggering out was done for me by the very talented TehShraid

Cause We've Seen You Give In (New)

'Cause We’ve Seen You Give In

Terri-Belle looked up at the sound of the approaching footsteps. It was about enough time for a bout to have finished, so she expected it to be Swift Foot, back again.

It was Swift Foot, back again; there was still a frown on her face, or perhaps it had come back on her way back to Terri-Belle’s office.

“It is over, then?” Terri-Belle asked, when Swift Foot didn’t speak.

Swift Foot nodded mutely.

“Who won?” Terri-Belle asked.

“Pyrrha,” Swift Foot replied softly.

Now it was Terri-Belle’s turn to nod. “I see,” she murmured. “Not unexpected, I suppose. Unfortunate for Arslan Altan, but still … not unexpected. Was it a good fight? A close fight?”

“That’s not the same thing,” Swift Foot replied. “It was a good fight, definitely, or at least I thought so. Was it a close fight? Yes, and no.”

“'Yes and no'?” Terri-Belle repeated.

“I never felt like Pyrrha was in danger of losing, but at the same time, it didn’t feel like she was dominating the match either,” Swift Foot explained. “They’re both so evenly matched — against one another, at least.”

“That’s the issue with fighting the same person repeatedly,” Terri-Belle said. “You get to know all their tricks, so it clouds over any genuine skill difference.”

“They both had a new trick,” Swift Foot said. “But Pyrrha’s was a little more successful than Arslan’s.”

“What did Arslan do?”

“She threw all her fire dust beads up into the air at once, setting them off so that they fell down in a kind of barrage,” Swift Foot said. “She was hoping to catch Pyrrha in the explosions — which she did — but also to disorient her, which she didn’t. Pyrrha was waiting for her as she came through the fire. It was … hard to see, because the fire from the explosions was obscuring the view for the cameras, but it was like the damage to her aura wasn’t fazing her at all; it was really cool.”

“More like she wasn’t allowing the damage to her aura to faze her at all,” Terri-Belle replied. “Although that is impressive in its own right. And Pyrrha’s new trick?”

“An aura attack, channelled through her shield,” Swift Foot said. She mimed holding onto a shield with both hands, stepping into the room so that she had space to twirl in place like she was throwing a discus. “She whirled her shield around, and there was this ribbon of aura — ribbon of energy that came from her aura, anyway — that flew out and hit Arslan in the stomach. She wasn’t expecting it. It was what Pyrrha needed to open her up. Then she threw her shield at Arslan to do even more damage.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t use her sword,” Terri-Belle muttered.

“She didn’t have it with her at the time,” Swift Foot said. She paused for a second. “So … that’s it. Pyrrha won the fight.”

“With her aura attack?”

“No, it was after that,” Swift Foot said. “They both fought well, but Pyrrha came out on top.” Again, she fell silent for a moment. “Do you … do you really believe that … that she is … that Pyrrha has—?”

“Betrayed the kingdom?” Terri-Belle asked. “Betrayed us?”

Swift Foot licked her lips. “Yes,” she said quietly.

Now it was Terri-Belle’s turn to take pause, leaning back a little in her chair, clasping her hands together on top of her desk. “Do I believe it? I don’t know. All I know is, as I have told you, that Father fears it, and I … I fear it too. I fear it because I trust in our father, because I believe in the wisdom of his years, and because what he is suggesting … accusations first against Pyrrha herself, then against her lackey, a fight that results in both combatants leaving alive—”

“Another fight that results in one of them getting captured,” Swift Foot pointed out.

“Captured is not dead,” Terri-Belle said. “Cinder Fall lives to fight another day, and even if she does not … what if she were a necessary sacrifice? And Phoebe Kommenos is dead. And … we cannot be blind to the possibility; we cannot say that a Nikos would never do such a thing, that merely to be born to that name is a guarantee of honour and virtue … those days are gone, if they ever lived at all.”

“'If'?” Swift Foot asked. “'If they' … those days made this kingdom what it is, made Mistral great.”

“Perhaps.”

“What 'perhaps' is there about it?” Swift Foot demanded. “You sound like you’re about to go out and graffiti a statue.”

Terri-Belle cringed. “Don’t talk such nonsense,” she said, but in a soft tone, with no harshness in her voice. “I … slavery, poisoning of rivals, the humbling of the great, envy run rampant with violent consequences … were the days of Mistral’s glory really so glorious?”

“Would we not see that glory renewed?” asked Swift Foot. “If not, then what? What are we seeking, if not to return to the days of our glory, when Mistral might hold its head up high amongst all kings and sneer at the barbarians that surrounded us?”

“Some emperors and lords felt quite benignly towards those barbarians,” Terri-Belle pointed out. “The northern ones, anyway.”

“My point stands,” Swift Foot said. “If not that, then—”

“A partial return,” Terri-Belle said. “A synthesis of what was great once with what may be better.”

“Now you sound like Lord Rutulus.”

Terri-Belle snorted. “He may be an arrogant little twat, but that doesn’t mean that nothing he ever says makes sense.” She blinked. “To get back on the subject, we cannot dismiss the very idea that Pyrrha may have betrayed us simply because she is the Champion, or because her name is Nikos, or because she has another half a dozen names bestowed on her by the adoring public. The fact that she has been called the Evenstar does not make her virtuous.”

Swift Foot looked down at her sandal-clad feet, brushing her long, wavy hair out of the way so that it didn’t hide her face.

“If,” she began. “If what you say is true, and I don’t say that it is, but … if it is, if Pyrrha … if she is what Father fears and you fear—”

“Which may not be true,” Terri-Belle felt obliged to concede, for her sisters’ sake.

“But if it is,” Swift Foot went on. “If it is, then … what do we do? What can we do? She … this will destroy the people.”

“I hope the people will prove a little more resilient than that,” Terri-Belle said.

“You know what I mean,” Swift Foot said, looking up as she took another step closer to Terri-Belle’s desk. “They love her in the streets.”

“Many do; not all, perhaps,” Terri-Belle replied.

“'Not all'?” repeated Swift Foot. She made an almost-laughing sound. “Can you find me someone in the streets who doesn’t love Pyrrha Nikos?”

“I’m sure I could if I looked hard enough.”

“That’ll do a lot of good once Pyrrha turns on Mistral and the people who once cheered her name despair,” Swift Foot said.

“There is a worse possibility,” Terri-Belle said quietly.

Swift Foot frowned. “Worse?”

“That the people who cheered her name cheer on her cause, because it is hers,” Terri-Belle said. “And carry her upon their shoulders to—”

“To where?” Swift Foot asked. “The throne? Would that be so terrible? It belonged to her family.”

“Once.”

“Once, and perhaps again,” Swift Foot said. “I’m just saying that a Nikos restoration would not be what I would call treason against Mistral. Father might not like it, you might not like it, but it would not spell doom and dire consequence for the kingdom.”

Terri-Belle sucked in her lips and considered her reply. Instinctively, she didn’t like the idea; she respected Pyrrha’s skill at arms, she acknowledged that Pyrrha was her superior in that, but … to make her Empress? To bow to her and swear obeisance? The very notion of it stuck in her craw. She was a Thrax, as Swift Foot was; her ancestors had been kings once, in Thrace to the southeast. Twice had the Thracian kings took off their crowns, descended from their thrones, and knelt to the claimant of the House of Nikos, and it was fair to say that they had been rewarded for it with titles, honours, dignities.

They had also paid for their service to the throne with blood, giving their lives in service to the Nikos emperors, sometimes in consequence of the follies of those same emperors. The Emperor Odysseus had given the command to colonise eastern Sanus for Mistral, but it had been Tarpeia Thrax who had sailed across the sea, who had fought like a lion against the barbarian clans, against the silver demons who championed them, giving her life to save the young Prince Pyrrhus from their savagery. And it had been a Thrax, not a Nikos, who had saved Mistral from the tyranny of Ares Claudandus and his thugs and had negotiated a peaceful settlement to the faunus problem.

The House of Nikos had had its time, it had ruled for centuries, and in those centuries, Mistral had grown past its prime, weaker and less regarded; by the time of the Great War, they had been dictated to by Mantle and had had to lie to escape the edicts of the North. Now was the time of the House of Thrax, the time for them to see what they might do, if given the opportunity. Had they not earned that chance? Had they not earned the time to make things right in Mistral?

She did not want to bow her head to Pyrrha Nikos.

But, as much as she disliked the idea, she had to concede Swift Foot’s point, that when you spoke of treason … technically, it was treason, but at the same time … it was one thing to think that you might do a better job at being in charge than the person who was currently running the show; it was quite another to plan to destroy the city, to consort with grimm worshippers and White Fang, to unleash grimm upon the populace.

There were orders of magnitude between the two, and the public that might gasp in horror at the second might well shrug at the first.

Terri-Belle supposed they had the right to shrug. After all, they were only talking of the reversion to the historical norm, to the customs of the ancestors, they were only speaking of an end to the novel experiment foisted on them by the Last King of Vale; and, historically speaking, it could not be denied that Mistral had endured many good times under the rule of the House of Nikos.

“Maybe so,” Terri-Belle admitted, testily, and with more than a touch of ill grace. “But look at her cohorts, if these rumours are true: the White Fang, grimm cultists, terrorists, and madmen; do those sound like the allies of someone with Mistral’s best interests at heart?”

“No,” Swift Foot admitted. “So, I say again, this will devastate the people.”

Terri-Belle took a deep breath. “I confess that troubles me less than her physical prowess.”

“If the mood of the city draws in the grimm, that will be harder to handle than even the greatest warrior, no?” asked Swift Foot.

“Perhaps, unless … unless the people can be made to…” Terri-Belle hesitated. Such a thing was easier said than done at the best of times. And besides, if Pyrrha were innocent, then to slander her… “We must all be prepared to stand together, as a family,” she said. “We must all be prepared to play our parts, for the good of Mistral, and our father.”

An uncertain look remained on Swift Foot’s face, even as her back straightened. “You know that I’m … I wanted to be ready,” she said. “I wanted you to think that I was ready. Although I didn’t think that ready would mean … this.”

“Service to Mistral is not always as glamorous as we would like,” Terri-Belle muttered. “We must find out the truth of these allegations, what Pyrrha is planning.”

“If she’s planning anything,” Swift Foot pointed out.

“Yes, yes, indeed,” Terri-Belle allowed. “If there is anything to discover; or, indeed, to discover the absence of anything.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Swift Foot said. “But … how?”

“Hwa!” Diana cried, swishing her toy Akoúo̱ through the air just like Pyrrha had with her new move. “So cool!”

“So cool,” echoed Selene.

“What was that thing?” asked River.

Kendal turned her head to look at her. “What was what thing?”

“You know the thing,” River said. “The thing!” she repeated, gesturing to the TV. “The thing with her shield, and the—”

“That was her aura,” Dad said.

“Her aura?” Sky repeated. “You mean the thing that … that Jaune unlocked for me? I thought that was a shield?”

“Aura is … it’s a lot of things,” Dad replied, waving one hand vaguely in front of him as he got out of his seat and moved a little closer to the television. “At the start, and basically, and for most people, it’s a shield. It lets you take hits without getting hurt, it means that we can have this tournament and nobody has to clean body parts up off the arena floor at the end of the day, and even if you do get hurt, then when your aura comes back, it will heal you — like it did for Sky. But, if you want to, then you can also learn how to use your aura to attack with. Like … well, like you just saw there; what you do is you … it’s hard to explain to people who don’t know anything about any of this stuff.”

“Your aura leaves you,” Rouge said. “But you can choose in what form; you can shape it as it departs.”

Kendal, River, Sky, and Violet all looked at her; Aoko remained focussed on her computer.

“The theory seems simple enough to understand,” Rouge murmured.

“Not quite,” Aoko said. “Aura isn’t a laser beam. If you unleash it without a form, then you’ll get power in proportion to how much aura you use, but it will be somewhat without direction, like the way that Neon Katt broke through Weiss Schnee’s barriers through random application of aura. But Pyrrha used her shield to shape her aura; it acted as a mould, giving form and direction to her attack.”

Sky said, “How do you—?”

“I work in the weapons division,” Aoko said. “I need to understand this sort of thing so that I can meet the needs of our clients.”

“So does that mean that you could do that, Dad?” asked River. “Could Jaune do that?”

“And how come Pyrrha didn’t do that before now?” Sky added. “Why doesn’t everyone do that?”

“That’s a lot of questions, but no, I never used my aura like that,” Dad said. “You see, the limit to this kind of thing — and I think this is probably why Pyrrha hasn’t done it before — is that you have to spend aura to do it. The aura that you put into an attack like that, you won’t get it back; it’s gone for now, which can be dangerous if you’re in the middle of a fight and you need all the aura you can get to protect yourself. Now, some people think it’s worth it, some people have enough aura that they can afford to shave off a little bit, but I’m guessing that Pyrrha doesn’t think it’s worth the effort normally, only she needed an ace in the hole in this fight, something that that other girl, her rival, hadn’t seen before. Could Jaune do that? Sure, if he worked at it and practised a lot. He’s even got enough aura that he could probably get away with it better than most.”

“I think I’d rather he kept it to protect himself,” Mom murmured.

“Yeah, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Dad said. “You got to ask yourself if these flashy techniques are worth it. I didn’t think so, and while Jaune might disagree, he might think it’s better off keeping his aura for—”

“For his teammates,” Rouge said. “Since Jaune’s aura doesn’t just protect himself, but also Pyrrha and his friends, I think that he might eschew expending it offensively so that he has more of it to spare for them, when they need it.”

“So that’s it then,” Terra murmured. “The rivalry ends.”

“'Ends'?” Cable asked. “Can’t Arslan try again the year after next? Or in Mistral next year?”

“Auntie Pyrrha is giving up the celebrity life,” Saphron said, speaking to Adrian even as she directed her words in Cable’s direction. “Yes, she’s going to turn her back on all that money and power to become a huntress because she’s a pretty face but an empty head, yes, yes, she does, that what’s makes her perfect for your Uncle Jaune, yes, it is. Yes, it is!”

“It will never not be weird that you keep calling her ‘Auntie Pyrrha’ in front of our son,” Terra said, in a deadpan voice.

Saphron looked up at her. “What about when they get married and she really is his Auntie Pyrrha?”

Terra blinked. “Okay, fine, then it will not be weird. But what if they break up before then?”

“Oh, they’re not going to break up, come on!” Saphron declared. “She’s set for life, and so is he.”

“Well, make sure your mother gets an invite to the wedding, won’t you?” Cable said. “Otherwise, you know she’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“I … they might not want the groom’s sister-in-law’s mother at the wedding,” Terra suggested. “They might want a small, quiet affair.”

“Nonsense!” Cable cried. “No such thing as quiet when it comes to celebrities. There’ll be room for your mother if you ask for it.”

“You’re probably right, Cable, if only because they’re nice enough to make room if they get asked,” Saphron agreed.

Terra rolled her eyes. “Let’s … let’s wait until Jaune actually proposes before we start planning our plus ones, okay? Or Pyrrha does, for that matter, although I think she’s too old fashioned for that. Anyway … let’s just wait. Okay, let’s leave it. The point is … what were we even talking about?”

“Auntie Pyrrha is retiring,” Cable said.

“Don’t start, Dad,” Terra groaned. “But yes, she is. So is Arslan, for that matter. They’re both going to become huntresses.”

“More fool them, if you ask me,” Cable said. “You wouldn’t catch me tramping up and down the wilderness with a sword looking for monsters.”

“We didn’t want Jaune to do that either,” Saphron admitted. “But … it’s what he wanted, and in the end … we just had to accept that, instead of trying to stand in his way. They’re very brave.”

“So long as they understand the risks they’re taking,” Cable said.

“With their lives?” asked Terra.

“Well, that too, but not what I was thinking of, love, no,” Cable said. “I was thinking more about how people like your mother would feel if her hero died in some fight somewhere. The broken hearts … that’s what the grimm are drawn to, isn’t it? Negativity?”

“So we’re told,” Saphron murmured. “Although … I don’t really want to talk about that sort of thing. I don’t want to … just thinking about Jaune’s heart in that kind of circumstance is bad enough. But she’s so good that it won’t happen, right?”

“Right,” Terra said. “I mean, you just saw, you just saw a really good fight between two people who are at the top of their game, two people who are so good that it’s actually really hard for them to land hits on one another. That’s why they both had to come up with new moves.”

“Really?” Saphron asked.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like that aura attack or the thing with the fireballs,” Terra said. “That … that was a fitting end, I think. For both of them.”

Arslan had her hands clasped together behind her head as she and Pyrrha — the latter having recovered Akoúo̱, slung across her back along with Miló — walked, sauntered almost, towards the tunnel out of which they had emerged.

She sighed. “I’m going to miss this,” she murmured wistfully.

Pyrrha smiled slightly. “You don’t have to leave it behind. Nobody can force you to. Certainly, I wouldn’t dream of trying.”

“I know,” Arslan said. “But I’ve already announced my retirement.”

“You could change your mind,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“I could, but I don’t want to,” Arslan replied. “It looks indecisive, one foot in, one foot out, like I can’t make my mind up, like I don’t know what I want.”

“Are you sure that this is what you want?” Pyrrha asked. “To leave all of this behind?”

Arslan hesitated for half a second before she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve had a good run, won some fights, won show tournaments, placed well in the ones that I didn’t win. And although I didn’t get the big title the way I would have liked, or this title, I’ve still done better than most. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” She twisted her body at the waist to look up at Pyrrha. “And besides, it’s like I told you before: if I waited until you’d retired, and then I won the title, people would just say that I wasn’t the real champion because I couldn’t beat you until you’d thrown in the towel.”

“Except that I’m not the champion,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Metella is.”

“And people are already saying that about her,” Arslan said. “That she isn’t the real champion because she never fought you; you vacated the title.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Pyrrha said. “There have been plenty of occasions throughout the history of the tournament when the reigning Champion vacated and did not seek to contest the honour. It was never held against their successor.”

“There weren’t a lot of occasions when someone won it four times on the trot,” Arslan pointed out. “I’m not saying that it’s right, but … it’s what Metella has to put up with, and it’s what I’d have to put up with next year; in fact, I’d get it worse because I’ve contested it with you so often, it really would look like I’d just waited you out.” She snorted. “Not that it isn’t tempting, I must admit. No matter what they said, I’d be the champion, get the laurel, get the chariot ride, the whole thing.”

“Then do it,” Pyrrha said.

“Don’t tempt me,” Arslan muttered. She shrugged her shoulders. “There are more important things than laurels or titles. Self respect, keeping your word, doing the things that you say you’ll do and not going back because it would be easier or because it would get you something you really want. All that role model stuff. And, like I said to your friend Ruby … I get that this is important, this huntress stuff, I mean. It’s … I’ve had my fun, and it has been fun, but … now it’s time to grow up a little bit, you know?”

“Time to step out of the little world of the arena and into the real world?” Pyrrha suggested.

“Yeah,” Arslan agreed. “Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.” Another sigh passed her lips. “But I will miss this. Not least because I can’t help but feel as though my life after this is going to be kind of dull by comparison.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. “In my experience, being a huntress is many things, but dull is not one of them.”

Arslan let her hands fall down to her sides. “I don’t know if our paths will cross again while we’re still at school, but I’ll tell you what: once we’ve both graduated, the next tournament afterwards, we’ll get a box together in the Colosseum and swap stories.”

Pyrrha smiled down at her. “I would like that very much.”

“And we’ll trash talk the fighters down below and complain about how standards have slipped since our day.”

“No, I don’t think I’d like that so much,” Pyrrha murmured. “Especially since our day will hardly have passed; it will still be Vespa and Metella and all the rest. Just not us.”

“Okay, we’ll leave that bit then,” Arslan said. “Save it for a few years down the road.”

Pyrrha shook her head a little as they continued on, almost reaching the tunnel mouth.

They had almost reached it when Penny emerged, leaping out of the shadows to envelop Pyrrha in a hug that pinned Pyrrha’s arms to her sides, that squeezed her back so hard that Pyrrha felt it through her aura.

“You won!” Penny cried, lifting Pyrrha up off the ground and spinning her around. “You won, and you’re through to the next round!” She put Pyrrha down and then, and only then, seemed to realise or recall that Arslan was there also. “Um, I thought you did very well too,” she ventured.

Arslan waved her off. “To the victor go the hugs and kisses, it’s the way of things; please, don’t curb your enthusiasm on my account.”

“Congratulations!” Jaune said, as he followed Penny out of the tunnel. “Never a doubt, obviously.” He grinned as he scratched the back of his head, glancing towards Penny. “I don’t know, after Penny, there doesn’t seem to be much that I can really do to—”

“You could kiss?” Penny suggested.

Jaune’s eyes widened. “In front of all these people?”

“It’ll prove to the deluded that you really are in a relationship,” Arslan said. “Actually, no, it probably won’t, but don’t let that stop you.”

Jaune looked at her. “Who doesn’t think that we’re in a relationship?”

“The deluded, I just told you,” Arslan said. “People who think that Pyrrha’s faking a relationship so that she can fake a breakup afterwards.”

“Really?” Pyrrha cried. “There are … there are people who think that? There are … why?”

“Because some people will believe anything,” Arslan said. “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

“Can I ask you how you know about this but I don’t?” asked Pyrrha.

“Because I read gossip magazines; it’s relaxing,” Arslan said. “So, while you two are obviously in a relationship, I have serious doubts about Countess Coloratura.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows climbed up towards her gleaming circlet. “Are you sure that you … that you’re not…?” She searched for a polite and moderate way to suggest that Arslan was perhaps amongst the deluded in this particular instance; it was quite difficult.

“So, they don’t think it’s real, huh?” Jaune said. “Well…” He took a deep breath. “Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

“J—” Pyrrha’s words were cut off, replaced by a gasp of shock as Jaune grabbed her around the waist, pulling her close and spinning her around as he twirled on his toes. One hand remained on her waist, descending a little towards the sash that covered her microskirt, Pyrrha could feel them upon her … yes, well, a lady didn’t discuss such things, but she couldn’t say she found it unpleasant. His other hand rose, climbing up her back until she could feel his fingers upon her skin, making their way up her spine, supporting her as Jaune leaned forwards, pushing Pyrrha backwards as he did so.

One of Pyrrha’s legs bent at the knee, the other kicking upwards as she leaned back so far her ponytail was touching the floor.

And then, bent over her, hands supporting her, Jaune kissed her.

Pyrrha’s eyes had widened at the surprise motion, but as he kissed her her eyes closed, and her arms closed around him.

His hand continued to work its way up, until it had climbed her neck and was in her hair.

Arslan had said that the arena was like a little world; well, this kiss was like a little world too, even smaller than the arena. A world for just the two of them, with crowd and kingdoms and even Arslan and Penny vanished from it.

Pyrrha was gasping for breath by the time that Jaune lifted his head away from her, but if they had kept on until one or both of them passed out, she would not have complained.

No, she wouldn’t have complained one bit.

“Sorry about the surprise,” Jaune said, as he straightened up, and helped her to do so also. “It’s just that … I guess I … kinda wanted to show them, which sounds kind of stupid now that I say it out loud.”

Pyrrha put one hand upon his chest. “Don’t worry,” she said. “That sort of surprise is always welcome.”

In the stands, someone whistled.

“Ahem,” Doctor Oobleck said, his voice echoing. “The final match will be between Rainbow Dash of Atlas and Sun Wukong of Haven; will both contestants please make their way out onto the battlefield?”

Blake let out a soft groan. Yes, this had been inevitable from the moment that Pyrrha and Arslan had been called as the third match, but that didn't entirely negate the impact of the confirmation.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" asked Mom solicitously, putting a hand upon Blake's arm. The solicitousness of her tone was somewhat undercut by the mischievousness of her smile as she added, "Are you struggling to work out who to support, your friend or your boyfriend?"

"It's not that, Mom," Blake replied. "I just feel bad for Sun; he's about to get knocked out of the tournament."

"You don't know that for sure," Mom said. "Maybe you should have a little more faith in Sun."

"I have faith," Blake said. "But that faith is bounded by reason, as it should be, and my reason tells me that Sun isn't going to win this."

"Eeyup," Applejack added.

"No way!" Scootaloo agreed vocally.

"You can do this, Rainbow Dash!" squealed Pinkie Pie.

"Not exactly an unbiased crowd, is it?" Mom asked, her voice trembling with amusement.

"In the interests of bounding our faith with reason," Cadance said, sounding almost as amused as Blake's Mom, "Shining Armor, you fought Sun last night, you told me he was ready, so what do you make of this?"

"He's not bad at all," Shining Armor said. "He wouldn't have made it this far if he was, and I wouldn't have told you he was ready if he wasn't. He'll survive in Mantle, and if he left Mantle, then he'd survive against the grimm too. But is he going to beat Rainbow Dash? No."

"You said that with remarkable certainty," observed Mom.

"That's because it's true, ma'am," Shining Armor said.

"Well, it seems that received wisdom is wholly against me," Mom said. She paused a moment. "Blake, since it's her teammate fighting, why don't you ask your friend with the big gun to stop loitering around outside and come join us?"

Blake looked at her mother, eyes widening.

"Yes, dear, I noticed," Mom said. "She isn't subtle. Honestly, if I didn't know she was a friend of yours, I'd be a little concerned." The way that her smile didn't quite reach her eyes suggested that she was still a little concerned.

Cadance leaned sideways to whisper something into Mom's ear. Blake couldn't hear the words being said, but she did see her Mother's expression grow more concerned for a moment, a deep frown creasing her brows, before her expression softened again.

"Ah," she murmured. "Yes, now I see." The smile returned to her face. "My point stands, nevertheless, Blake; why don't you invite Ciel to join us?"

Blake started to rise from her seat. "I'll go ask her now, before the match starts."

Rainbow rolled her shoulders. "Okay then," she muttered under her breath. She raised her voice to say, "You ready, Sun?"

Sun didn't answer right away. He was talking to his blue-haired pal, Neptune. Rainbow couldn't hear what they were saying — and he was, anyway, a little bit distracted by the way that another of Sun's teammates, the guy with the sides of his head shaved and the red pelisse, Rainbow couldn't remember his name — was glaring at Sun.

But the conversation between Sun and Neptune must have been encouraging, at least, because it ended on a hug between the two of them.

The guy who had been glaring at Sun offered Rainbow a thumbs up, before miming stabbing Sun in the back, repeatedly.

What was up with that, Rainbow did not know. She understood that Sun wasn't Mister Popular, and all things considered, she'd have to admit that she understood why, but if Sun lost this match, then Haven would be eliminated from the tournament.

Now, maybe that didn't bother the Haven students too much because they were treating Pyrrha like one of their own — as far as Rainbow could tell, none of them seemed too broken up about Arslan's defeat — but even so.

Of course, if Rainbow lost, then Atlas would be the one out of the tournament, so bad luck, Sun.

"Do it for Atlas, Dashie!" Neon yelled. "Win one for the General!"

"I mean to," Rainbow said.

Sun and Neptune stopped hugging it out, and Sun turned to face Rainbow. "Yeah, I'm ready now."

"Then let's not keep the people waiting," Rainbow said.

The two of them left the stands together, descending the stairs into the corridor.

"You know, I didn't get a chance to ask," Rainbow said, as their footsteps echoed a little bit off the tunnel walls. "How did it go with Shining Armor last night?"

A bright smile lit up Sun's face. "Oh, it went pretty great! I didn't beat him, but I passed! Councillor Cadance is going to get the paperwork rolling."

"Oh, yeah? Congratulations!" Rainbow offering him her hand. "You're gonna be a huntsman before any of us, huh?"

Sun laughed. "Heh, yeah, I guess I am. Feels weird when you say it like that."

"You had a shot, and you took it," Rainbow replied. "Nothing weird about that. Does Blake know?"

"No, I haven't told her," Sun said. "I was gonna, but … well, you know, you all seemed kinda—”

"It was a long night last night," Rainbow agreed.

"And then…" Sun trailed off for a second. "What's going on?"

"A lot of things are going on, all the time," Rainbow said.

"You know what I mean," Sun insisted. "What's going on with Sunset, and all the stuff that they—?"

"Sunset is a victim of slander," Rainbow declared. "It's all just like Skystar Aris said: she made up a story, decided not to spread it around, only for someone else to get a hold of it. That's all, no truth, all lies."

"Then why isn't Sunset here, cheering Pyrrha on?" Sun asked.

"Because she's on a mission."

"Why her, why now?" Sun demanded. "I'm not stupid, Rainbow Dash. Well … I’m not completely stupid, anyway."

"I never said you were," Rainbow replied. She paused. "Why Sunset? Why were we in Mountain Glenn? There are things going on that neither I nor Blake can tell you, so you're just going to trust me a little bit." She smiled. "But you know, you should bring that inquiring side of you to Mantle; they could use it there as much as they could use your stick and guns."

"You think so?"

“Yeah, I do,” Rainbow said. "In Mantle, I think working out who the bad guys are will be as important as fighting them." Rainbow thought about that old lady, Ciel's friend, beaten to death in her own house by some punk loser. "Sometimes, you won't even have to fight, so long as you can…" — she searched for the right words — "so long as you can find out who's responsible."

"Responsible for what?"

"Whatever the problem is," Rainbow replied.

"Right," Sun said, nodding. "Good thing I'm not completely stupid then, huh?"

Rainbow smiled for a second. "Hey, Sun … is it me, or are some of your teammates pulling for me?"

"Who, you mean Scarlet?" Sun asked. "Yeah, he'll be happy to see me gone. He … he's not very happy with me. For good reason, I guess, but … yeah, if you beat me, you'll be making him very happy."

"'If'?" Rainbow asked

"Yeah," Sun said. "'If.'"

Rainbow didn't reply to that, or she was spared the need to because they had reached the end of the tunnel.

Pyrrha and the others were still there, waiting for them, or at least, that was how it seemed.

Sun grinned. "Nice moves, Jaune."

Pyrrha's cheeks reddened with a blush that only made her look cuter; Jaune's entire face reddened to make him look like a pepper fit for the curry pot.

"Well, uh, I guess that I, um, I wasn't—" he stammered.

"Good luck," Pyrrha said quickly. "Both of you."

"Yes, do your best, Rainbow Dash!" Penny added.

"Thanks," Rainbow said, as she and Sun stepped out together, into the light — it was just gone noon, with the sun at its zenith; by the time of the final match, allowing for breaks to recharge aura, it would be dark — and the applause of the crowds all around them.

"This is pretty cool, right?" Sun asked as he waved to his adoring fans. "I mean, for once in a while. It beats getting chased around and called a criminal, that's for sure."

"I wouldn't know about that," Rainbow replied as she, too, waved to the crowd — using both hands in her case. "But you're not wrong; this is pretty nice." She grinned. "You won't get this in Mantle."

Sun chuckled. "That's why I said 'every once in a while.'"

The two took up positions on opposite sides of the hexagon as the rest of the arena retracted and they became the latest in the line of contestants to drop down into the pit.

"Rainbow Dash of Atlas!" Doctor Oobleck cried.

Rainbow raised both fists in the air as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Sun Wukong of Haven!"

Sun whooped as he made do with raising one hand.

"Three!"

Sun twirled his staff in one hand; it seemed a red circular blur in the air.

"Two!"

Rainbow's hands clenched into fists.

"One! FIGHT!"

Rainbow surged forward; leaving a rainbow trail blazing in her wake. She’d tried to show something different in each of her battles so far; now, she was going to show what happened when she decided to just blitz it. She could see Sun spinning his staff around before him, deflecting her bullets — or trying to — but in the grip of her semblance, he seemed to be moving so slowly; what had been the red blur in front of him as he spun his staff with such speed had become a perfectly visible red bo-staff, one that was still moving but at a distinctly normal speed, verging upon slow.

Certainly, it was too slow for her.

I’m sorry, Sun, but Adam was faster than you, and Adam wasn’t fast enough for me.

From Rainbow’s perspective, it took no time at all to close the distance between her and Sun, though she’d started from the opposite end of the battlefield to him. She grabbed his staff with one hand as she slammed her fist into Sun’s gut with the other, putting all the momentum of her semblance-powered charge into the blow and adding more than a little bit of her aura into the strike for good measure.

The booming sound of Rainbow’s aura strike echoed around the arena; the shockwave erupted out in all directions in front of her as Sun was blasted backwards, arms and legs flailing — right off the edge of the arena.

Rainbow walked to the edge in order to see Sun fall.

Or to see him get caught by a couple of his golden clones before he actually hit the ground, who proceeded to throw him back upwards before he could actually get disqualified for ring out.

Rainbow pulled Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome from their holsters, firing with both machine pistols, fingers squeezing the triggers down as she tracked Sun’s rise. He spun his staff in front of him to try and deflect the bullets away, but he was only partially successful in that, and it took a few more chips off an aura that she’d damaged already.

Nevertheless, with the momentum of his clones' throw behind him, Sun managed to regain the stage, landing to a loud cheer from his supporters.

He had less than a second to enjoy it before Rainbow, shoving her pistols quickly back into their holsters, was right on top of him again.

Sun swung his staff at her, but Rainbow blocked it with one hand as she slammed her other fist into his gut. It was like hitting frozen beef, his abs were as hard as rock — how often did he work out? — but it forced Sun back a step and loosened his grip on his own staff to let Rainbow wrench it out of his hands and hit him across the face with it before she threw it aside.

Then she punched him again — once, twice, three times — slamming her fists into that absurdly hard chest that damaged her aura around the knuckles — but probably not as much as she was damaging his, or at least, she hoped not.

Sun tried to retreat, to open up some distance between the two of them, but Rainbow kept at him, faster than him so he couldn’t really get away from her, blocking his attempt to hit back, pounding on him, and pounding, and pounding again—

“Sun Wukong’s aura has dropped below the limit!” Doctor Oobleck cried. “Rainbow Dash is the winner!”

“Yes!” Rainbow yelled, punching the air, but in a restrained way because Sun was kind of a friend. He was Blake’s boyfriend, anyway, so Rainbow should probably know him better than she did.

She let her hands fall to her sides. “No hard feelings, right?”

Sun winced. “Ask me again when I start to feel a little bit better.”

“And that concludes the first exciting round of these finals!” Professor Port declared, his voice piped into the corridor. “Now, in battle, huntsmen and huntresses may be forced to fight with their aura diminished from prior exertions, but in recognition of the fact that some of our semi-finalists have been exerting themselves quite a lot already, we’ll be taking a break to allow some of their aura to recharge. But don’t go away! It only gets better from here!”

“So, what should I do when I meet Pyrrha’s mom?” Penny whispered to Jaune. “Is there anything that I ought to know?”

“Just a couple of things, yeah,” Jaune replied. “The first thing is to call her ‘my lady,’ as in, Lady Nikos. The other thing is that there’s this bow that Sunset taught me, you give it when you’re first introduced to her. What you do is, you put one foot behind the other, spread your hands out on either side of you, and bend down from the waist, make sense?”

There was a sort of tapping, thumping noise from behind Pyrrha.

“One foot behind the other is hard to do when I’m trying to move forward,” Penny complained.

“It doesn’t matter if it isn’t perfect,” Jaune assured her. “Just so long as you’re making the effort, that’ll be fine.”

Pyrrha, walking ahead of both Penny and Jaune, leading the way to her mother’s box, smiled ever so slightly at what she could hear from behind her. She was tempted, momentarily, to pretend that she couldn’t hear it, but in the end, she turned to face them both, paying particular attention to Penny.

“You know, Penny, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” she said. “I know that I suggested you might, but if you’d rather go back to the stands, then—”

“No,” Penny said quickly. “No, I’d like to meet your mother. Everyone else on the team has, haven’t they? And although she can’t know … or can she know?”

“If Sunset has spoken to Mother already, as I’m sure she will have, then she will know the truth already,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, she will know that Sunset is … she will know, so she can know.”

“Then I’d like to meet her, as your new team leader,” Penny said. “If that’s alright with you, that is; it doesn’t feel like something I should order you to do.” She adopted a mock-stern voice. “Take me to your mother, Pyrrha; that’s an order!”

Pyrrha chuckled. “There’s no need to make it that official, I assure you.” She paused. “I would like to tell you that my mother won’t judge you on such things as the bow or the mode of address; unfortunately, that would be a lie, but I … I believe that Jaune is right that Mother will not expect perfection, merely a degree of effort.”

Penny took the opportunity of them having stopped walking to attempt the bow that Jaune had just outlined for her. She was not as good at it as Sunset had been, it lacked a certain natural quality coming from Penny, but it was very well done for the first time.

Penny looked up at her. “Am I doing it right?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Pyrrha admitted. “You see, that isn’t a Mistralian bow.”

“It’s not?” Penny asked.

“No, that’s one of Sunset’s own,” Pyrrha said. “Although it seemed to do well enough when it came to impressing my mother.”

Penny frowned. “But then … Sunset comes from…” Her mouth formed an O. “But the ponies in Equestria do put one of their front legs back just like this! And then bow like this! That’s how Twilight bowed to Princess Celestia! Oh, Sunset must have converted it to a human form! That’s so cool!”

“A human…” Pyrrha trailed off. Of course, Sunset was … Sunset was…

“I’m a magical unicorn.”

It was one thing to believe that when Sunset said it, it was also one thing to remember that Sunset lived in another world, a world to which she could presumably return if she wished to — although Pyrrha found herself glad that she didn’t — it was another thing to think about what that really meant.

Specifically, it was something else to imagine Sunset as a kind of horse.

Pyrrha had never really thought about it. She wasn’t wholly sure that she wished to do so.

It was rather … strange to contemplate.

“Of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, I see what you mean. That…” She pushed the thought of equine Sunset out of her mind to focus on Penny. “That looks very nice, Penny. I’m sure it will do fine. And if it doesn’t, it really doesn’t matter all that much.”

“I know,” Penny said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make a good impression.”

Pyrrha smiled at her, then turned away to continue leading the way for the others.

She led them up the several flights of steps, up to near the very top of the arena, to the box where, as she had yesterday, Hestia stood in attendance on the door.

Hestia bowed her head. “Good afternoon, young mistress. And congratulations.”

“Thank you, Hestia,” Pyrrha said. “I imagine that you’d quite like to sit down.”

“I’m fine, young mistress,” Hestia said, “but thank you kindly for saying so.” She cleared her throat. “Lady Pyrrha, ma’am, and Mister Arc and…” Hestia paused for a moment. “And company.”

She stepped aside, and before Pyrrha could introduce Hestia to Penny or vice versa, she felt herself pulled into the box itself as though Hestia had been a pressurised door which, once open, caused everything on the one side to be wrenched inexorably into the other.

As she walked in, she saw her mother climb to her feet, pushing herself up on her cane.

“Pyrrha!” she cried, her voice louder than seemed necessary in the circumstances. “Pyrrha,” she repeated, her walking cane tapping upon the metallic floor of the box as she walked around the edge of the row of seats.

Pyrrha did likewise, walking quickly around the edges of the seats, her sash swaying and bouncing beside her. “Mother, there is no need—”

“I am not yet so frail,” Mother said, her voice sharp, cracking like a whip.

Pyrrha stopped. “No,” she murmured. “No, of course not, Mother.”

For a moment, there was silence, only the tap tap of Mother’s cane upon the floor.

She stood in front of Pyrrha, of a height with her but seeming a little smaller because of the slight tilt of the floor of the box.

She reached up with her free hand — the other holding the handle of her ebony cane — and stroked Pyrrha’s cheek, a gentle gesture for a hand that otherwise felt hard.

Or perhaps it was simply Pyrrha’s surprise that made the gesture feel awkward.

When Mother kissed her, leaning forward to plant a kiss upon first one cheek and then the other, it felt … different. It was not the first time, but it did not feel like the other times, although Pyrrha confessed that she would have been hard pressed to explain why it was so.

Perhaps it was no different, the difference existing only in her imagination.

“You … have done well,” Mother said. “Doubly so.”

“Indeed!” Lord Wong declared as he followed Lady Nikos up onto his feet; Pyrrha noticed him now for the first time, her attention drawn away from her mother to the ambassador and his wife, who stood up beside him, although there was a gap between them which she guessed was filled with—

“Well done, Pyrrha!” Soojin cried. “You were amazing out there!”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you, Lady Soojin, but I couldn’t have done it without the support of my biggest fan.”

“Congratulations, Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong said.

“A doubled congratulations,” Lord Wong said, “upon both your victories, of today and of last night.”

“'Last night'?” Soojin repeated. “What happened last night, Papa? Was there a match I didn’t see? But then, this is the first—”

“Last night, Soojin, Lady Pyrrha defeated and apprehended a dangerous criminal on the streets of Vale in a real battle,” Lady Wong said. “And for that, she deserves our praise even more than for the tournament victory.”

“The tournament victory was mine alone, my lady, but the victory in Vale was won by my team; we all should share equally in the acclaim and the praise,” Pyrrha said. “Speaking of which, you all remember Jaune, but allow me to introduce my friend Penny Polendina, who fought with us last night and struck the final blow against our enemy. Penny, allow me to name my mother, Lady Nikos; the Mistralian ambassador to Vale, Lord Wong; his lady wife; and their daughter, the Lady Soojin.”

Penny’s eyes seemed to widen a little at being in the presence of so many dignitaries, but nevertheless kept her composure as she bowed, in the Sunset fashion that Jaune had shown her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all, my ladies and my lord.”

“Miss Polendina,” Lord Wong said, in his gravelly tones. “You are of Atlas Academy’s Team Rosepetal, yes?”

“Uh, yes, my lord, I am,” Penny said, before letting out a hiccup. “Sorry.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Polendina,” Mother said. “You came to your semblance upon the battlefield in the first round, no?”

Penny smiled. “Yes, my lady, I found it then. I was very lucky.”

“As was your team; without it, you might have lost the match,” Mother observed. “Mister Arc, fare you well?”

“Very well, my lady,” Jaune said. He paused, before venturing on, “the better for having seen Pyrrha win already.”

“I should hope so, after that kiss,” Lady Wong said, in a somewhat arch tone.

Jaune swallowed. “That, uh … I was … I’m not sure—”

“You were overcome by the moment,” Lord Wong said, enunciating his words carefully. “That is what you must say in these circumstances, even — perhaps especially — when it isn’t true.”

Soojin giggled.

“Kindly attempt to maintain some decorum for the rest of the day, Mister Arc; this is Pyrrha’s moment, not yours,” Mother said sharply.

Jaune bowed his head. “Of course, my lady.”

Mother inhaled. “Lord Wong, Lady Wong, will you excuse me a moment? My daughter and I must have some private conference. I shall not be too long.”

“We could leave you for a moment, my lady, if you would prefer—” Lady Wong began.

“No, no, Lady Wong, that will not be necessary; I would not dream of it,” Lady Nikos said, waving her free hand. “Pyrrha, walk with me a moment, if you will.”

“Of course, Mother,” Pyrrha said.

It does not take the wit of Creon to guess what you wish to speak of.

She backed away, first, to allow her mother to get out, and then fell in at Mother’s side as the two of them walked out of the box and began to descend the stairs downwards. Mother held onto the metal rail with one hand, holding her stick with the other. They had gone about halfway down, more or less, when Mother stopped, still holding onto the rail.

“So,” she said, “you have fought your last match against Arslan Altan. The contest is ended once and for all and decisively in your favour. How does it feel?”

“I’m glad it ended on a splendid battle,” Pyrrha said, “one where we both fought with all our might and showed ourselves at our best, in skill if not always in the results that we obtained with that skill. It was a fight worth remembering, and I am glad it was so.”

“Mmm,” Mother murmured. “That business with your aura, and your shield—”

“It was necessary, Mother,” Pyrrha said. “I needed something that Arslan wasn’t expecting.”

“Then you don’t plan to make a habit of it?” Mother asked.

“No, Mother,” Pyrrha replied. “I don’t think I need to, in the ordinary course of things.”

“Good,” Mother said. “I have always thought that such techniques put style over substance.”

“I think there may be use for them, in certain situations.”

“When facing opponents who are very familiar with your capabilities?”

“I was thinking more often of when it may be advantageous to deal more damage quickly, rather than in a slower but more precise fashion.”

“Even at the cost of your own aura?” Mother asked.

“Better to expend some of it to win the battle than to have it whittled away from one, no?” Pyrrha asked.

“Better not to lose it in the first place,” Mother replied. “Still, you won the battle. You are one step closer to the ultimate glory, the goal which I intended for you.”

“Yes, yes, you did,” Pyrrha could not help but say in reply. “And yet, for all that … I desire it also.”

Mother looked at her. “You do?”

“I fear so,” Pyrrha admitted. “I find that I would rather like to retire upon a high note.”

“You fear it?” Mother asked. “And tell me, Pyrrha, why should you fear to have ambition?”

“Because…” Pyrrha hesitated. “Because I … I would prefer not to say.”

“Because you thought that my ambition was something you had escaped, and so you looked down upon me for possessing it?”

“I have never looked down upon you, Mother,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Resented me, then, for pushing you to attain something which you now wish for yourself,” Mother said. “Well, leave it be; for myself, I find that it matters less to me than it did upon a time.” She tightened her grip upon the bannister, her knuckles turning white. “Miss Shimmer came to see me this morning, before I arrived here.”

Pyrrha paused for a moment. “What did Sunset tell you?”

“The truth,” Mother said. “I confess myself disappointed in you, Pyrrha; that disappointment tarnishes your victories in my eyes. I thought you had been raised better than this, that Chiron’s tutelage at least might have taught you better, even if my parentage had not.”

“I…” Pyrrha trailed off, blinking rapidly. “'Disappointed'? I don’t understand.”

“Do you not?” Mother asked. “Do you truly not? Has this place made you so … so Valish?” She almost spat the word. “No, not even that, for surely, even in Vale, they understand the virtue of fidelity. Miss Rose is not with you?”

Pyrrha did not miss the note of hostility that entered into her mother’s voice when she said Ruby’s name. “No,” she said softly. “Ruby is detained in Beacon by some other business.”

“Good, or I should be hard pressed not to give her a piece of my mind,” Mother fairly growled.

“Mother—”

“Miss Shimmer saved your life!” Mother declared. “And you repay her by allowing Miss Rose, not even one of your professors, a mere child, to drive her into bootless exile out of Beacon? Is that how the House of Nikos repays the debts it owes?”

“I told Sunset to go to you,” Pyrrha said. “That you would give her succour and assistance.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Mother said in words as sharp as Miló’s edge. “Did you speak up in her defence?”

Pyrrha bowed her head, feeling as though a weight were being placed upon it. “No. Not … not until we were nearly alone.”

“So you said nothing where you could be heard,” Mother muttered. “I did not think that I had raised a coward.”

“'Coward'?” Pyrrha cried, her voice rising even as her head rose to look her mother in the face once more. “Mother, I … what Sunset did, what you would have had me defend … have you no feeling for the people of Vale, for this city?”

“No,” Mother said bluntly. “Miss Shimmer also spoke of this city of Vale; it moved me as little from her lips.”

“Sunset acknowledges that she made a mistake,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Saving your life is not a mistake in my eyes,” Mother replied.

“In passing, do we not achieve immortality?”

“Do not grow insolent with me, daughter,” Mother snapped. “It may be that I have grown indulgent, but that indulgence … or do you speak sincerely, and not out of a desire to bait my temper?” Her voice softened. “Do you believe that I would ever wish you dead? My only child, the future of my house and line?”

She released her grip upon the stair rail and exchanged the hand which held her walking cane, fumbling with it for a moment before she laid her newly-freed hand on Pyrrha’s shoulder.

“Glory, yes, but … but not at the expense of your life. I would not grow old in a futureless house, doomed to crumble once I breathe my last, to be interred in a crypt that will soon become the property of some pot-bellied merchant. Do you think that if you perished, I would spend my last days beside your statue, accosting passersby to tell them that you died very well, and I have no regrets? I would have you live, live to shine brightly, yes, as bright as any star in Mistral’s firmament, but I would have you live.”

“I know,” Pyrrha whispered. “I know you would, and that is why I knew that you would take care of Sunset. I am sorry that I … should not have suggested otherwise. But as a huntress—”

“You were my heir before you were a huntress,” Mother said. “You were the daughter of the House of Nikos before you were a huntress.”

“And as a daughter of the House of Nikos, have I not some obligations towards the people?” Pyrrha asked. “And as a huntress, we must needs be prepared to give our lives in service of a greater cause, as Achates Kommenos did upon the field of the Four Sovereigns, or Tarpeia Thrax holding off the savages so that Prince Pyrrhus might escape.”

“And in that line stands Sunset Shimmer, in my eyes,” Mother replied. “As a sworn sword and a protector, pledged by honour and her word to put your life before all other cares or considerations.”

Pyrrha closed her eyes a moment. “It is not … Sunset acknowledges that she made a mistake; can you not do the same?”

Mother was silent a moment. “Let it be conceded, then,” she said softly. “But even so, the fact remains, she saved your life, and you repaid her loyalty with silence. A mistake, you call it; you do not claim that she did treachery, that she meant wickedness by it?”

“No, of course not,” Pyrrha said.

“She is my sworn sword,” Mother said. “Your leader, your battle companion, your friend. And yet, you had no care for friendship or fidelity, you said nothing and let Miss Rose pass judgement and sentence.”

“I know that Sunset did not say it so,” Pyrrha said.

“You said nothing,” Mother repeated. “You were silent.”

“You speak to shame me,” Pyrrha whispered. “But what would you have had me do? Seek to sustain Sunset at Beacon, against Ruby’s opposition?”

“If you could inspire no clemency in Miss Rose, then I would rather you had left with Miss Shimmer, even forfeiting this tournament, rather than allow her to be spurned like a stranger cur while you bore witness,” Mother said, “and by the witnessing gave your approval to it.”

That stung, and stung all the more for being so unexpected to hear from her mother. It felt as though Arslan’s fireballs had not done so much to Pyrrha’s aura. Pyrrha had endured the flames, but this … this was harder to endure, and Pyrrha felt once more the weight pressing down upon her head, forcing her neck to bow.

“Give up the tournament?” Pyrrha repeated. “You would have had it so, truly?”

Mother was silent a moment. “I would rather see you without laurels on your brow than devoid of the virtues of our class, to turn out one who has served you faithfully.”

“What you’ve done is so awful that you must go; oh, but see my mother, she may toss you a scrap or two.”

I wonder that Amber did not call me cruel; I would deserve the name more than Ruby does, for Ruby was as cold as steel while she banished Sunset, and spoke with honest harshness in the banishment. I professed love, while turning my back upon she who has loved me greatly in her turn.

I should have spoken out for mercy, at the least, if I had meant what I said, of great affection. Or else I should not have claimed to possess said great affection after the deed was done.

“Your words do shame me,” she confessed.

“They are intended to,” Mother said bluntly.

Pyrrha glanced at her. “What … what should I do?”

“Do you ask for my command, who have so often railed against it in your heart?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “But I do ask your counsel.”

“I have offered Sunset command of a mercenary company,” Mother declared, in yet another surprise for Pyrrha’s ears. “Or rather, since I do not have such a thing at present, I have offered to found and fund one, under her leadership, that she may put her skills to good use in Mistral. If you were to join in with her, as joint leader, it would add great lustre to the venture, and immediately, the prestige of the new group would be immense by your participation.”

“Leave Beacon?”

“Has it so much to teach you?” Lady Nikos said. “Bring Mister Arc with you, if you wish.”

“Yes, I would like to have him with me, but to leave Beacon … leave Ruby and Penny—”

“Miss Polendina?”

“She is my — our — new team leader, in Sunset’s place,” Pyrrha explained briefly. “She meant to transfer to Beacon in any case; this is … the opportunity arose for her to do so early.”

“As leader?” Mother asked.

“You call me coward, and then you express disappointment that I was not chosen as team leader?” Pyrrha asked.

“I said nothing,” Mother replied.

Pyrrha blinked. “No, I suppose you … forgive me.” She frowned. “I cannot drag Jaune away from Beacon, abandon Penny and Ruby.” Yes, I could serve Professor Ozpin in Mistral, and start now, but still… “Jaune would not wish to go, and I have other friends than Sunset, other responsibilities.”

“You asked for my counsel.”

“But in this, Mother, and not for the first time, I cannot take the path that you would have me follow,” Pyrrha replied. “I may owe Sunset more than I have given her, but if so … if so, I must repay her in some other fashion.”

Author's Note

I haven't gotten a lot of writing done this week, so we'll be taking a week break and back in the new year on Monday 8th January.

The Making of Change (New)

The Making of Change

“So, what did your mother want to say to you?” Jaune asked as the three of them walked down the stairs. Jaune was besides Pyrrha, with Penny a step behind them.

Pyrrha sighed deeply. “She chided me.”

“That’s unusual,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha glanced at him. She wasn’t quite able to keep the smile off her face. The fact that there was a matching smile upon Jaune’s face didn’t help in that regard.

A slight snigger escaped her attempts to forestall it, as she found her elbow moving almost independently of her will to give Jaune a slight nudge.

“I feel as though I’ve just missed something,” Penny confessed. “Why is this funny?”

Pyrrha made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a wince as she looked back at Penny. “It isn’t really, Penny, it’s just that—”

“I was being sarcastic,” Jaune explained. “Because it’s not unusual at all. Pyrrha’s mom is always chiding her — or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Oh,” Penny said. “Oh, I see.” She paused for a moment. “She seemed alright to me. Did I miss something?”

“No, you just hadn’t done anything to upset or disappoint her yet,” Pyrrha said. “My mother is not an ogre, I must admit, she simply has … certain standards that she expects people to live up to. High standards.”

“Oh, so she’s like my father, then?” Penny asked. “Now I understand.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. Not exactly the same, but there are certainly similarities.”

“So what did your mother chide you about?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha stopped on the stairs. It would be easier to talk about this here, while they were still relatively high up in the arena, with a metal wall between themselves and the crowds on the other side, and very few people with reason to make their way up here to them. Nevertheless, she looked down the stairs, and up them, as she turned to face Jaune, which had the beneficial side effect of meaning that she no longer had her back to Penny, but was turned in profile towards her, so that her new team leader could see at least the side of her face.

Not that she actually looked at either of them. Her eyes turned downwards, towards the metal steps on which she stood.

“It was, as you might think,” she whispered, “about Sunset.”

Now it was Jaune’s turn to sigh. She heard his hands tapping against the metal wall behind him. “Of course it was.”

“Did Sunset go and see her?” Penny asked. “Like you said she should.”

“Yes, she did,” Pyrrha said, and the fact that neither Jaune nor Penny had asked what, precisely, her mother had chided her about with regards to Sunset or, indeed, whether she felt truly chastened or no, made it a little easier for the moment to raise her head a little so that she could Penny’s face and not just her boots. “This morning, before Mother flew up here to see the matches.”

Penny nodded. “And did your mother agree to help her? Can she help her?”

“Very much so, if Sunset wills it,” Pyrrha said. “Mother has offered to make her a mercenary captain.”

“She what?!” Jaune exclaimed.

Penny cocked her head to one side a little. “Would you mind explaining that just a little more?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “Mistral has — had, at least — no army. It has an army now, but that army is very small, and still in training; I’m not even sure how long it will last before people begin to wonder if it was a mistake and forget why they created it in the first place. But, in any case, as I say, Mistral has not, historically, had an army. Even before the Great War, there was no standing army in Mistral, only warriors sworn to the service of the throne or the houses great and small. After the Great War and the Faunus Rebellion, of course, there were huntsmen and huntresses, but still, there was no tradition of huntsmen and huntresses, and the tradition of, well, of private armies I suppose you might call them continues in the plethora of mercenary groups and private security companies who flourish in Mistral, more than in any other kingdom — although some find work in other kingdoms besides Mistral.”

“You mean like SDC security?” Penny asked. “Without the slaves that is.”

“One would hope,” Pyrrha murmured dryly. “Some are close to SDC security, others are more warlike, and others still sit somewhere in between the two; I am afraid there is a spectrum of what kind of work these groups do — and how they go about it.”

“And Sunset’s group?” asked Penny. “What kind of group would she lead?”

“As a new company, without any traditions or customs or identity, that would be for Sunset to determine, as the captain,” Pyrrha said. “That’s … that is part of what would make this a great opportunity for her: the chance to build something from scratch, to make it, to shape it from the ground up, just as the first headmasters of the huntsman academies shaped the schools after the Great War; she would be responsible for determining what this group is, what it does, what it stands for.”

“Wouldn’t your mother have any say in that?” Jaune said. “I mean, Sunset could never afford this by herself, and you said that your mother would give it to Sunset—”

“How can you give something to someone when it doesn’t exist?” Penny inquired. “Sorry to interrupt, Jaune.”

“It’s okay, Penny.”

“Mother would provide the money,” Pyrrha explained. “And the fact that Lady Nikos was supporting the venture would give it credibility from those who would not look twice upon a penniless faunus, with some reputation but no great deeds done in Mistral, not even a Mistralian by birth, attempting to set up an operation with nothing behind it but Sunset’s hopes. It isn’t really something that Sunset could hope to get off the ground by herself. So, I suppose, I should have said not that Mother is giving Sunset a company; rather, she is giving Sunset the opportunity to forge a company, with the backing of the House of Nikos.” She paused. “But I don’t think that Mother would interfere operationally; she trusts Sunset too much for that.” She sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “I think that she would give Sunset her head, at least unless or until Sunset failed dramatically in some fashion.”

“She already has,” Jaune pointed out.

“Not…” Pyrrha paused for a moment. “Not in my mother’s eyes. In Mother’s eyes, she has succeeded absolutely.”

“By saving you?” Penny asked, although it hardly seemed a question at all.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “By saving me.”

“I suppose … I can understand that,” Penny said softly. The corners of her lips twitched ever so slightly. “I’m glad you’re not dead too.”

Pyrrha could not help the little laugh that skipped out from beneath her lips. “Thank you, Penny.”

She felt a hand upon her shoulder. Jaune’s hand.

“Me too,” Jaune said. “You know, in case that needed saying.”

She ventured to look at him, if only for a moment. Fortunately, he did not look upset; there was no anger in his eyes.

“I know,” she said. “But it never hurts to be reminded.”

“So,” Jaune went on. “Is Sunset going to do it? Take your mother’s offer, become a mercenary?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Mother didn’t say that Sunset had accepted, which I suppose probably means that she has asked for time to think it over and hasn’t gotten back to Mother yet.”

“It does seem like a lot of work,” Penny said. “You said it was a big opportunity, and I suppose I can see why, but an opportunity that will take a lot of work all the same. You say that it’s like the first headmasters, but I guess it’s a lot easier to live in a school that someone else built than it is to build one yourself.”

“I think you’re certainly right about that, Penny,” Jaune said. “But Sunset … whatever her faults, Sunset has always been hard-working.” His brow furrowed. “I’m not convinced that this is the right thing for her, though.”

“You don’t?” Penny said, leaning forwards a little from the waist. “Why not?”

“I think that Sunset works better with a tight circle,” Jaune replied. “I think that she’d be fine with a small group of people under her, people she could get to know, people that she liked, a team that she could…” — he waved one hand — “bond with, I guess. New friends, after…” He trailed off for a second. “But a company? A whole bunch of people, how many is that?”

“It would only be small to begin with,” Pyrrha said softly. “In the beginning.”

“Would it?” asked Jaune. “I get that everything has to start somewhere, but even so, a company with your mother’s money and support? Would it really be that small?”

Pyrrha considered it for a second or two. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “It would depend on a number of factors, not least of which the number of potential willing recruits in Mistral and what size Sunset wished to begin with.”

“Even if it started small, it would have to grow,” Jaune said. “Do you think that Sunset could manage twenty people? Fifty? People who were distant from her, who she didn’t or couldn’t know because there were too many people to get to know?”

“Isn’t that what team leaders are for?” Penny said. “Or officers? After all, General Ironwood doesn’t know everyone who serves under him, Professor Ozpin doesn’t deal with every single student—”

“I know that it can be done, but would Sunset want to do that?” Jaune responded. “I don’t know, maybe she would, but even if she did manage to rise to the occasion, still … could your mother really trust her? Could anyone who hired her?”

“None of the people who hired her would know what she did,” Penny pointed out. “Or were you meaning metaphorically?”

“I think…” Pyrrha began, stopping short of saying that she thought Jaune did Sunset wrong in that suggestion, in case he did not wish to hear it.

“I did not think that I had raised a coward.”

Pyrrha frowned. “I think you do her wrong, to suggest that,” she said.

“Do you?” Jaune asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “Yes, I do.”

“You said that Sunset wouldn’t make friends with a large group of people,” Penny pointed out. “But if she wasn’t their friend, then … she only did what she did down in the tunnel because she cared so much about you and Pyrrha and Ruby, so—”

“Penny, I’m not sure that’s very helpful,” Pyrrha murmured. She looked Jaune in the eyes, prepared to see frustration with her in them, anger even, if need be. She did not like the feeling of her mother being right in a critique of her character, but even less did she like the knowledge that she had turned her back on her friend. “Sunset accepted all of Ruby’s accusations, and your anger, she accepted that she had done wrong, she accepted the punishment of being exiled from Beacon — and from all of us who mean so much to her, for whom she did what she did … but she would not do it again, I would stake much upon it. I would stake Mistral, my home that means so much to me, that she would not make the same mistake again, if put in the same or similar position. To suggest that she is unrepentant, no different than she was when she did that thing … it is incorrect.”

Jaune looked at her. Pyrrha waited for his reaction, resting her fingertips upon the wall behind her for support.

“You … you’d really stake Mistral on that?” he asked. “Your own home, your mother, everyone?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, though she wished her voice did not sound so brittle as it did. “I believe that Sunset, regretting and regretful, would make a different choice.”

“You trust her?” Jaune asked. “After what she did?”

“After what I have seen and what I have heard,” Pyrrha replied. “I trust her.” She swallowed.

“Don’t—” Jaune began, and then stopped. “Is that what your mother wanted to talk to you about?” he asked. “It is, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “She chided me for not standing by Sunset.”

“Even now?” Jaune said.

“Because she thinks that Sunset did the right thing?” Penny asked. “She thinks that you should have … what does she think that you should have done?”

“I think I’d like to know that too,” Jaune whispered.

Pyrrha took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “Is the point really what my mother thinks I should have done?”

“I guess not,” Jaune admitted. “Do you … what do you think?”

“I … I don’t know,” Pyrrha confessed. “Except that I feel ashamed of myself, that I said so little in that room that night. I waited until Sunset had been banished by Ruby, and then I went out to her, and I … I told her that I loved her and said a fond farewell.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “Ruby knew that you would too; that’s why—”

“Why she tasked me with taking the journal out to Sunset, yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “But if I really cared about Sunset—”

“Are you seriously gonna suggest after all this that you don’t care about Sunset?” asked Jaune, some incredulity creeping into his voice.

“If I did, why did I not speak up…?” Pyrrha faltered, the right word eluding her.

“Speak up in her defence?” Penny suggested.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, I could not … Sunset gave no defence, I could not give one on her behalf; but I could, I should, have spoken up for clemency.”

“You mean for Sunset to stay at Beacon,” Jaune said. It was hard for Pyrrha to tell what was in his thoughts, because she could detect so little trace of it in his voice.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said simply.

She saw little point in saying anything else, at least not yet; clemency might be called a virtue more honoured in the breach than in the observation amongst the old blood, but it was a virtue yet and all the more virtuous for being so rarely observed in times of great crisis. Those who did observe it, those who forgave their enemies, those who raised up those who knelt before them, were praised and reputed for it. Yet Pyrrha had conspicuously failed to demonstrate that virtue, either with Sunset or with Cinder — unless you counted not simply killing Cinder where she lay on the ground as clemency, which Pyrrha was not inclined to do in the circumstances.

But Jaune was not a Mistralian, and she could not expect their values to move him, any more than her mother’s words would have brought Jaune to shame if they had been directed his way. She would not persuade him thus, nor did she seek to or need to persuade him. All she wished to do, all that she could do, was present her thoughts, as they were in her mind.

“Because you think she’s changed,” Penny said.

“Because … she is my friend,” Pyrrha said. “And so, being my friend, being bound to my family by tokens and promises between her and my mother, I have certain obligations towards her.”

“What about her obligations to us?” Jaune asked. “What about her obligations to Beacon?”

“That is where the clemency ought to have come, had I been braver,” Pyrrha said.

“It’s alright, Pyrrha,” Penny said, taking Pyrrha’s hand in both of hers. “I wasn’t very brave either. When Sunset confessed, when she said why she’d done it, I wanted to reach out to her, but … I was scared of Ruby.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Jaune said, his voice a little hoarse. “Ruby … Ruby wouldn’t have blamed you, or been angry with you. She sent Pyrrha out to say goodbye, remember; she wouldn’t have had any problem with you wanting to reach out.” He looked at his hand for a second. “I’m not sure that you could have persuaded her to show mercy, though; at least … hasn’t Sunset already been shown mercy? She isn’t going to jail, she isn’t having everyone know what she did, she’s still a hero here in Vale in spite of everything, she’s got so many people on her side: Councillor Emerald, Professor Ozpin. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that mercy?”

“Sunset and Ruby would doubtless agree on that,” Pyrrha murmured. “But nevertheless…”

“Do you … do you think Ruby did the wrong thing?” asked Jaune.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Ruby acted perfectly correctly, according to the values of a huntress.”

“Except that Professor Ozpin is a huntsman too,” Penny pointed out.

“Ozpin is too comfortable in the dark,” Jaune said, his voice sharpening. “It might be necessary to step there, but it’s almost as if he likes it there better than in the light.” He clenched his jaw for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had softened once more. “So … Pyrrha, I don’t … if you think that Ruby did the right thing, then, I don’t get it, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that, although Ruby acted correctly, I ought to have urged her towards mercy nonetheless,” Pyrrha said.

“Right,” Jaune murmured. “I see.” He bowed his head and made a motion as if to fold his arms across his chest, although he did not; instead, he let them fall back down to his sides again. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said.

Pyrrha did not respond to that. She didn’t want to interrupt him, in case he had more to say.

“You really trust her?” he asked. “Really?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “Strange though it might seem.”

“You were always closer to her than either of us,” Jaune muttered. “That isn’t me trying to act like I could see this coming or anything like that, I’m just—”

“I know,” Pyrrha assured him. “And you are right. We were … you’re right.”

“So your mother,” Jaune said. “She told you that you should have stuck up for Sunset?”

“Amongst other things,” Pyrrha admitted. “She told me that I should have left Beacon alongside her rather than let her leave alone, believing herself forsaken. She asked me to leave Beacon and join with Sunset in the work of her new company.”

“And will you?”

“No,” Pyrrha said at once. “No, I will not. I don’t want to leave you.”

Jaune managed to smile out of one side of his mouth. “Thanks for not asking me to leave with you.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said softly, her voice a mere caress. She wished to reach out to him, but feared that now was not the moment and he would not appreciate it. “I would not do that to you. I know that you would not wish it, and I would not force you to … I wouldn’t force any such thing on me. Please, tell me that you didn’t think I would.”

“I know,” Jaune said. “Of course I know. I suppose I shouldn’t have asked if you were leaving, I’m sorry about that, I just—”

“No, it was a fair question,” Pyrrha conceded. “I had just brought the subject up.”

“But if you were going to go, you would have mentioned it sooner, I think,” Jaune said. “I mean, I think that now, having actually thought about it. You wouldn’t have waited until we got here by such a winding road.”

“I would like to think not, at least,” Pyrrha said. “No, I cannot — will not — go with Sunset, and I told Mother so.”

“Would you take her back to Beacon?” asked Jaune.

“Ruby will not have that,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“But would you?” asked Jaune. “If you could?”

“I would not do that to you, either,” Pyrrha said.

“I’m asking you what you think,” Jaune insisted.

“And what I think is that you are more hurt by what Sunset did than you are, for love of me, displaying,” Pyrrha replied. “And I think that I would be truly taking you for granted if I trespassed upon that more than I already have.” She paused. “Mother called me a coward, and the insult — the truth I must confess I felt in the insult — moved me to honesty as much as valour. I should have spoken for mercy for Sunset, and I will speak so now, to you. But I will not impose mercy upon you that you do not feel, if you cannot show it, cannot forgive, then that is your right. I have no right of mine to demand it from you on Sunset’s behalf. That is what I think, truly.”

Jaune nodded. “Is this … is this our first fight?”

Pyrrha blinked. “Are we fighting?”

“No, I guess not,” Jaune said. “But I don’t think I want to have a real fight.”

“Nor I,” Pyrrha said. “And if I have upset you—”

“No,” Jaune said. “I don’t agree with you, and I’m not sure that I completely get what you’re saying but … the fact that I can’t trust her so easily doesn’t mean that you can’t ask me to, and the fact that I don’t feel the same way about her as you do doesn’t mean that you can’t feel it, just so long as you don’t ask me to do or feel the same as you.”

“It’s a pity that you can’t,” Penny said. “Forgive her, I mean.”

Jaune glanced at her. “Can you?”

Penny hesitated. “I … never really felt angry at her,” she admitted. “So … I’m not sure that you can forgive someone if you were never angry at them.”

“You probably can; it’s just not as…” Jaune trailed off. “Not that it matters because I can’t. Not yet. I’m not angry at her anymore, but that doesn’t mean that I could just accept things going back to the way they were, any more than Ruby could. I’m just not there yet, if I ever will be.”

“I understand,” Pyrrha said softly. “And yet I feel the need to…” 'Make it up to her' sounded too strong, even to her ears. “To make some recompense to Sunset for my silence.”

“Like what?” asked Penny.

“I … I will do what my mother reminds me that I ought to have done,” Pyrrha said. “And urge Ruby towards mercy.”

“The first set of matches are completed,” Dove said.

“Yeah?” Ruby asked in a quiet voice. She was sat in the window seat, half turned towards the window, half with her back to it, sitting on her red cape, with one foot up, and Crescent Rose — in its short, carbine configuration — resting upon her lap, just in case she needed it. From where she sat, she could see the door into the dorm room, as well as being able to see out the window.

Not that there would be anything in particular to see from out the window, but, you know, it was a view.

A view of the courtyard outside, with people wandering either to the fairgrounds or up towards the skydocks.

More people were coming back from the skydocks than back to them at the moment, which kind of made sense if what Dove was saying was right, that the first set of matches was over. People might be taking a break, or maybe their favourite had lost and they weren’t interested in sitting up in the colosseum any more.

“So … that’s it?” Amber asked. “They’re done for the day?”

“No,” Dove said. “No, it’s just that, of the eight fighters who started the day off, four of them have been eliminated. There are still two more rounds to go today: semi-finals and then finals.”

“Oh,” Amber said. “Yes, I see.”

Ruby glanced down at Crescent Rose in her lap. “So who won, then?”

Dove was sitting on Sunset’s bed — what had been Sunset’s bed; she supposed that it would be more accurate to call it Penny’s bed now — with his scroll out, although there was also a book resting on his lap. Amber was on the other side of the room, by the wardrobe, sitting on the floor with her knees up, sketching something on a pad.

Dove glanced down at his scroll again. “Weiss Schnee defeated Neon Katt, Pyrrha defeated Arslan Altan, Rainbow Dash beat Sun Wukong—”

“And Yang’s the last one through, right?” Ruby asked, because with those four matches, that would mean that her opponent would be … someone from Shade? Yeah, Team UMBR, and there was no way that a Shade student could ever beat Yang.

Dove winced. “I’m sorry, Ruby, Yang … was eliminated.”

“What?” Ruby squawked, looking up, and sitting up a little straighter as well. “Seriously? Yang was … Yang lost?!”

That was… she could hardly believe it. She couldn’t believe it at all. Yang didn’t lose fights, especially not one-on-one fights; she might … okay, so some people could take her out, if she’d been drawn against Pyrrha in the matches, then Ruby would have believed that, maybe even Rainbow Dash, but against a Shade student, seriously?

“That’s what it says here,” Dove murmured.

“But how?” Ruby demanded.

“I don’t know; I wasn’t at the match,” Dove reminded her.

“Okay, but doesn’t it say what happened?” asked Ruby.

Dove glanced down at his scroll again. “Let me scroll down a little, maybe the livestream…” His eyebrows rose. “Huh. Apparently her opponent, Umber Gorgoneion, used a semblance that froze Yang in place, allowing Umber to throw her out of the ring.”

Ruby blinked her silver eyes more than once. “Her semblance just … just froze Yang? Is that what it says?”

“That’s all that it says,” Dove said. “I don’t have any more details.”

Ruby leaned her head back against the window frame with a soft thud. “Huh,” she muttered. “Poor Yang. Getting beaten just because your opponent had a semblance that you couldn’t respond to.”

“But good for Pyrrha, isn’t it?” Amber asked. “I mean, she won, so she’s through to the semi-finals, right?”

“That’s right,” Dove said. “There’s going to be a break to allow their auras to recharge somewhat, and then the semi-finals will be fought, and then there will be another break, and the final two contenders will meet in the final.”

“Yeah, it’s great for Pyrrha,” Ruby muttered. “I mean, it’s no less than everybody knew was coming; it’s not like it’s a big surprise. But poor Yang, though, I really thought that she’d at least make it through to the semi-finals. Maybe I should call her. You know, I think I will; I… I couldn’t watch the match, but I’ll let her know that…”

I’ll let her know that I know she lost.

Is she really going to want to know that?

But when else am I going to tell her that I’m sorry? After the tournament is over and Pyrrha’s won and everyone’s celebrating — assuming that we’re not in the middle of a grimm attack on Vale by then.

But assuming that, assuming that there isn’t a big battle and we’re all in it, even if everyone else is celebrating, is Yang going to be celebrating?

Yeah, I think she will, because Yang’s a good sport, and she wouldn’t want to seem like she was sulking.

Will I be celebrating?

Will I be celebrating Pyrrha’s victory?

Even to ask the question seemed mean, but Ruby did ask it nevertheless, at least in the privacy of her own head, because … because she wasn’t in much of a mood for celebration at the moment. And that had nothing to do with Pyrrha — well, okay, maybe it had a little bit to do with Pyrrha — but mostly, it had to do with Ruby.

Or it had to do with the world around Ruby. Or both. Ruby wasn’t really sure how to define it, except that she didn’t feel happy.

Which sounded like a stupid thing to say, but, you know, it was how she felt; or at least, it was the best way that she could explain how she felt: she didn’t feel happy.

Now, some might say that that was because Ruby didn’t have anything to feel happy about, but she hadn’t felt very happy hearing that Pyrrha had won her match and would be progressing on. Would she have felt happy if Dove had told her that Yang had also won her match and would be a semi-finalist? She’d felt shocked when he told her that Yang had lost, but, if she’d found out that she’d won, would that have made her happy?

I would have been happy for Yang, sure.

I hope.

Why didn’t she feel happy? She had gotten her way, for once; she had been listened to, treated with respect by Sunset, who had obeyed her, and done what Ruby wanted without precondition or interference; she had expelled a shadow from Beacon and upheld the values of a huntress. So why…?

Maybe happiness was the wrong word. Maybe she oughtn’t to be happy that she’d found out that her team leader and her friend had been lying to her for weeks about something heinous that she’d done. No, she definitely wasn’t happy about that, but … maybe it would be better to ask why Ruby didn’t feel satisfied.

She’d won. She’d cast Sunset out; she had banished wickedness from the grounds of Beacon. So why didn’t she feel satisfied?

Because she didn’t feel satisfied, not one bit. Her triumph didn’t elate her at all; it didn’t lift her up, fill her up … anything else up. Nothing was up; it was all … flat inside. Like … when you were hungry, but you didn’t want to eat. You weren’t full, but at the same time, nothing actually seemed good to you, not even the stuff that you normally loved.

Like Dad on his bad days, which were a lot less frequent now than they used to be, most of the time, he could even get through Mom’s birthday or their anniversary just fine, but some days, it would just come back to him, and he would go a bit … flat.

Like how Ruby felt right now.

Why did she feel this way, after what she’d done?

I should feel satisfied, shouldn’t I?

Maybe Professor Goodwitch would understand why she was feeling like this, but Ruby could hardly go and see her now; she had to stay and take care of Amber — whom she couldn’t drag down to see Professor Goodwitch, if only because it would be really awkward to talk to the professor about her feelings with Amber and Dove right there.

Which meant that Ruby was left to brood, and to feel flat, while she waited for the day to end and … and for her to get the chance to leave Amber with someone else while she went and talked to Professor Goodwitch.

That is, if there wasn’t a battle raging by then.

I’ll call Yang. If I couldn’t be there to watch her fight, then I can at least let her know that I’m sorry she didn’t win.

Ruby shuffled and shifted in her seat, reaching around behind her, arching her back like a seal breaching the water, as she got out her scroll. She kept one hand on Crescent Rose so as not to drop it on the floor, and she managed to open up her scroll and find Yang’s number one with one hand.

She tapped Yang’s face on the screen with her thumb, a moment before Yang’s actual face filled up the screen.

“Ruby!” Yang said loudly. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I…” Ruby hesitated for a second. “I know that … I’m sorry that you didn’t make it to the next round.”

Yang sighed. “Thanks, Ruby. I mean, at the end of the day, it’s not the biggest deal in Remnant, but, thanks anyway. I guess I’m kinda glad that you weren’t here to see me get humiliated.”

“I’m sure you weren’t humiliated,” Ruby said. “Dove said it was something to do with her semblance.”

“Yeah, froze me completely, couldn’t do anything,” Yang muttered. “Good luck to Pyrrha or Weiss if they have to deal with that next round. I don’t know, maybe Umber Gorgoneion will be the Vytal champion, wouldn’t that be a surprise for everyone?”

“I guess it would be a shock,” Ruby said. “Especially for all those people who thought that Pyrrha would be a shoo-in to take the title.”

Yang’s purple eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you asking me that? You’re the one who just … I mean, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Yang said, with no sign that her eyes were going to widen back to their normal size again soon. “You sound … I don’t know, but what’s up?”

“Nothing!” Ruby insisted. “Nothing is up, I’m fine, I…”

“Ruby,” Yang said, leaning in so that her face was closer to the screen.

“I…” Ruby glanced out of the window, at the people moving to and fro across the courtyard, most of them not students, just tourists, families, people with balloons or cotton candy, people in costumes. “I’m just feeling a little bit … I don’t feel as though I’ve got a lot of enthusiasm right now.”

Yang’s eyes returned to a normal size, even as the rest of her features softened before Ruby’s eyes, softened like her voice as she said, “Because of what happened last night?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said quickly, because it wasn’t a total lie — this did all tie back to what had happened last night, after all — and because, to be honest, she was getting a little anxious to ditch this whole conversation right now in favour of, well, almost anything else. She was starting to regret calling.

This was supposed to be about Yang, not about how I feel.

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Yeah, it’s … it’s all because of that.”

“Oh, Ruby,” Yang sighed. “I’m sorry, and you still thought about how I was doing after this stupid fight … you’re the best, you really are; you’ve got such a good heart.”

Ruby laughed nervously. “Well, you know… I try. So, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine!” Yang assured her. “So I’m out of the tournament, big whoop, what about you? Do you want me to come down there?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, it’s fine, I … I’ll be okay. You want to stay up there and watch the other matches, right?”

“Well, I would like to see Pyrrha or Weiss find a way to put Miss Wouldn’t-Shake-My-Hand in her place, yeah,” Yang admitted. “But if you need me—”

“I’ll be okay,” Ruby insisted. “There’s nothing that you can help me with down here; I just need … time, I hope.”

Yang nodded slowly. “I hope so too. I’ll see you soon, sis.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry you’re not,” Yang replied.

“Thanks,” Ruby replied. “But I’ll get there. Enjoy the rest of the day!” she hung up and let out a sigh.

“And there’s…” Dove began. He glanced down at his scroll and put it down beside him. “And there’s nothing that I, that either of us can do to help?”

Ruby looked at him as she repeated her twists and turns and arches of her back to put her scroll away. “Help with what?”

“With the fact that you’re not okay,” Dove said. “You do realise that we could both hear you? You weren’t talking privately.” He paused. “Although when I say that, perhaps I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said, waving one arm. She tried to laugh it off, or at least chuckle, but she couldn’t really seem to get one out when she needed it. “It’s … I just … I don’t know. I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I don’t see how anyone can really help me.”

“But help you with what?” Dove asked. “Maybe we could help if we understood the problem. I, for one, would like to help, if I could. I…” He looked down at his book. “I’ve always admired you, Ruby.”

Ruby stared at him. “You … really?”

Dove nodded. “Is that so strange, so hard to believe?”

Kinda, yeah, Ruby thought. “I mean…” Her mouth twisted into several shapes, forming words unspoken before, after a moment or three, she spoke a single word: “Why?”

“Yes,” Amber murmured. “Why?”

Dove didn’t acknowledge Amber. For once, he kept his eyes on Ruby. “I wouldn’t have given my copy of The Song of Olivia to just anyone,” he said, “although admittedly, I mainly knew you from Yang’s stories, but I trusted Yang, I believed the stories, I believed what she said about you because it matched what I saw — and what I’ve seen since … since we started to spend more time together, since Amber and everything. You have … Yang said that you wanted to be like the heroes in the books, but the truth is that you’re nothing like them because they were all … failures, at some point. They all let their pride, their love, their vanity, their wrath, they all had something in them that got the better of them at some point, usually with dire consequences, but you … you don’t have that, you … you’re better than they are because you aren’t…” He ran one hand through his sandy hair. “I’m trying to work out how to say it.”

“Ruby doesn’t care,” Amber said. “Ruby does what she thinks is right, no matter who she hurts.”

Now Dove looked at Amber. “That…” he said. “That’s true, but I mean it as a compliment—”

“Is it?” Ruby asked, because it sounded like a way of saying she was heartless.

“Yes,” Dove said. “I mean, isn’t that what you were trying to be? Isn’t that what a huntsman or a huntress is supposed to be?”

“Is it?” Ruby snapped. “Is it really? Is this what we’re all supposed to be trying to become? If that’s true, if everyone here is supposed to be trying to be like me, then why am I the only one who’s actually doing it? If I’m the example that everyone should be aspiring to, then why does everybody treat me like I’m the problem?!” She breathed heavily, in and out, chest rising and falling. “I—”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Dove said quickly. Slowly, he started to get to his feet. “I think that we may have just found the problem.”

Ruby bowed her head, her chin resting on her chest. “Do you really believe that? What you said?”

“Which part?”

“About … about me being what a huntress is supposed to be,” Ruby murmured.

“I do,” Dove replied. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t. Why do you think I’m leaving Beacon?”

“I thought it was because you were in love with Amber?” Who doesn’t seem to think that I’m as great as you do, at least not anymore. Ruby supposed that she couldn’t be too surprised at that; she had been a lot closer to Sunset than she was to Ruby, although it was a little disappointing that a Maiden, someone who was supposed to embody goodness and virtue, couldn’t see things her way.

Then again, nobody else can either, so why should I be surprised?

Maybe that was being a little too hard on Amber, who after all wasn’t a huntress; she was a Maiden, but Maidens weren’t supposed to be super-huntresses, they were meant to … well, in the story, they had helped the old man by being nice, and helpful, and not giving up on the old man to teach him life lessons.

So, Ruby guessed that, really, by not giving up on Sunset … or at least not condemning Sunset, then Amber was living up to what it meant to be a Maiden after all.

That excused her, at least.

“That’s right,” Dove said. “That is why, that … that’s why I can’t be a huntsman. Why I could never be a huntsman, in truth. I can’t put my love for Amber aside to … to do my duty. Amber will always have the first claim upon my heart, upon my actions. And so, that being the case, I could never be a good huntsman, and so … the only answer is to come away.”

Ruby chewed on her lip for a moment. “That … that all sounds nice, Dove, that sounds really nice, especially the part about me.” She looked at him, looking up into his face as he walked around Jaune’s bed to stand closer to her. “I really … thanks, Dove, that was nice to hear, but … if only people who could be like me could be or should be huntsmen or huntresses, then I feel like I’d be at this big school by myself.”

“That’s not your fault,” Dove told her.

“No, I know,” Ruby murmured. “But…” She sighed. “Professor Ozpin didn’t want to let Sunset go.”

“Didn’t he?” Amber asked.

“No,” Ruby answered. “He … he wasn’t happy when I told him what I’d done, that Sunset was gone. He sent Professor Goodwith out into Vale to find her and tell her that…”

Dove tilted his head a little. “Tell her what?”

“That he still needed her, to do work for him,” Ruby said. “Jobs around the other Maidens, keeping them safe from people who might want to hurt them, the way that Cinder hurt Amber.”

“From this Salem person,” Dove said.

“Right, exactly, from Salem,” Ruby agreed. “The point is that Professor Ozpin is the headmaster of this school, he’s supposed to be the ideal, he’s supposed to be the kind of huntsman that we’re all striving to become, and yet, even he thought that it was more important to have Sunset around in case she was useful to him than it was to stand up for the values that this school is supposed to teach and be a symbol of. So yeah, Sunset’s gone, and she isn’t coming back, and I … I did that, I got her out, but … it feels like all I’ve done is … all I’ve done is opened my eyes to the fact that this whole school is…” rotten. To the core, even. “It’s all just as flawed as those heroes in the books, and so is Professor Ozpin. In this whole school, there isn’t anyone who cares about the values that ought to guide us.”

“There’s you,” Dove reminded her.

“A fifteen-year-old kid who shouldn’t even be in this school yet, what does that say?” Ruby asked him.

Maybe it means that Sunset isn’t the one who doesn’t belong at Beacon, maybe…

That was an uncomfortable thought, particularly uncomfortable because it felt like failure, like an admission of wrongness. But did it have to be? Was it really? If she were to go because nobody thought like her, that still wouldn’t make the way that she thought wrong.

It would just make very few people right.

And honestly, could she really say that she was happy here?

Could she really say that she was looking forward to three more years here, where even the headmaster thought that she was a fool?

If I have no friends but duty and Crescent Rose, then … why not?

“Ruby?” Dove asked.

Ruby smiled, although it was probably a kind of sad smile, all things considered. “Dove,” she said softly. “I … I’m sorry that we didn’t find each other in the Emerald Forest.”

Dove blinked. “That … that would have been something, maybe. I doubt I could have kept up with you.”

“I’m sure you would have done fine,” Ruby assured him. “But, could you give me a second, please?”

Dove looked around the room. “Um—”

Ruby managed to chuckle a little bit. “Yeah, I … I’m just going to call a couple of people, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Dove said, and he retreated across the room, close to where Amber sat on the floor. He craned his neck a little to get a better look at her drawing.

“Who are you calling?” Amber asked. “Is it Pyrrha?”

“No,” Ruby said. “No, these are a couple of old friends.”

She got out her scroll again, grunting with irritation at the contortions of her body necessary to get it out from behind her, but ultimately, she just didn’t feel like getting up; the seat at the window was otherwise too comfortable to leave it just to make a call. And besides, she managed to get her scroll out anyway, even if it did take just a bit of huffing and puffing.

The first call that she made — grateful that there was a break in the action so that she wouldn’t be disturbing anyone who might be watching the tournament — was to Leaf.

She took a couple of seconds to answer. In fact, she took longer than that; it must have been more than ten seconds, maybe fifteen or twenty seconds ticking by with agonising slowness as Ruby stared down at the green calling icon on her scroll, waiting for Leaf to pick up. If she didn’t pick up … well, Ruby could make this decision without her input, but she would like to know the answer to her question first.

Leaf picked up, even if it was a little slower than Ruby would have liked. “Ruby, hey!” Leaf called cheerily. “Hey, I was … not expecting to get a call from you today; I thought you’d be up in the Amity Arena watching Pyrrha in the finals.”

“No, I … I’ve got some stuff to do,” Ruby muttered. “But, anyway, hi, Leaf, how are you doing? How’s Atlas?”

“Atlas is amazing, and I am living my best life!” Leaf cried. “I’ve got my own apartment! I’ve got a roommate — Hey, Veil, this is Ruby Rose from Team Sapphire, say hi!”

“Hi, Ruby Rose!” the dark-skinned girl in whose direction Leaf turned the scroll waved to her. “Nice shooting in that first-round match.”

“Thank you,” Ruby murmured. That first round seemed so long ago now, even though it had only been two days, it still felt as though it might as well have happened to a completely different person.

No, no, it happened to the same person, but things hadn’t become … crystalised for her in the same way.

“I’ve got a job, I’m making money, I’ve got friends — although a lot of them have ditched me to go to Vale and watch the tournament, and I can’t go with them because I haven’t made that much money yet, but anyway, this place … this place has got my stuff together, and I would say something other than stuff if you weren’t fifteen.” She grinned. “Coming here was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“But it didn’t happen to you,” Ruby reminded her. “You did it. You went out and you made it happen.”

“You’re right, aren’t you?” Leaf said. “You are absolutely right, I did this, for me—”

“With help,” Veil reminded her from off-screen.

“Yes, yes, with a lot of help from Blake and Rainbow Dash and from Sunset too for setting me up with Blake and Rainbow Dash,” Leaf said. “Hey, is Sunset doing okay, she’s not letting all that crap they’ve been saying about her get her down, is she?”

Ruby reminded herself that she couldn’t tell Leaf the truth. “She … she isn’t having the best time today.”

Leaf groaned. “Can I speak to her?”

“No,” Ruby said. “She’s—”

“Oh, right, yeah, she’s going on that mission, isn’t she?” Leaf said. “Right, well, tell her from … you know what, no, when she gets back, I’ll call her, tell her not to let this stuff grind her down.”

Ruby smiled tightly. “I’m sure she’d like that. You seem really happy.”

“I am,” Leaf said. “This city … at some point, I’m sure it’ll get boring and normal, but at the moment, I’m still at that point where everyday I go outside and I’m just so buzzed at the reminder that yeah, I really am here. I’m here, and everything is coming up roses.”

I remember when Beacon felt like that. “That … that’s a great feeling, right?” Ruby said. “Hang onto that, for as long as you can.”

“I will,” Leaf said, “I definitely will.” She paused. “Hey, Ruby, are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Ruby said, a bit too loudly and a little too enthusiastically. “I’m fine, I just … I need to ask you something, okay?”

“Shoot, what is it?”

“When did you decide to … no, actually, what was it that made you decide to run away to Atlas the way you did?”

Leaf’s eyebrows rose for a moment. Her squirrel ears drooped down. “That’s not a question that I was expecting to get asked today,” she said.

“Sorry,” Ruby murmured. “I just … you don’t have to answer, I just—”

“No, it’s fine, I … I guess you wouldn’t have asked now just for the whatever, so…” Leaf trailed off for a second, then another, then a third after that. “I guess,” she said, “I just … I think it was all Angie’s fault.”

“'Angie'?”

“Angela, my stepsister,” Leaf explained. “She’s going to Mistral over the winter; Daniel — my stepdad, in case you don’t remember — bought her a trip to celebrate her graduation and her college acceptance.”

“That’s a nice present,” Ruby said.

“Prices are cheap right after the Vytal Festival 'cause a lot of people aren’t taking holidays,” Leaf said. “But yeah, you’re right, it was a nice present. You could hear her shrieking about it all over the house.” She smiled wryly. “ She’s a year younger than I am, and she’s already going places — literally, she’s going to Mistral this winter — but also metaphorically. That’s right, isn’t it, metaphorically?”

“I think so,” Ruby said.

“And she knows it,” Leaf went on. “Or she knew it, anyway, and she was being so, so annoying about it, I wanted to take that ticket and rip it in half — only Mom would have got mad at me, and … I would have deserved it, so I didn’t do that, and I didn’t punch her on the nose, I just … and she said ‘how does it feel knowing your mom and my dad are going to be supporting you for the rest of your life?’ And, as much as I hated her … I had to admit she was right. So long as I stayed around here, around there, so long as I stayed in Vale maybe, knowing that … that as much as Mom ragged on me and as much as Daniel huffed about it, there would always be a place to go back to … I would always end up back there; whatever I tried to do, it wouldn’t be enough, the temptation would … would be too much to do the easy thing, to give up. That’s when I realised that if I wanted to make a change that would stick, then it would need to be a big change, like really big, like so big that I couldn’t go back like … like putting an ocean between me and Mom … or stealing from Daniel.” She grinned. “And so I decided to leave. And I picked Atlas because, you know, all the cool stuff seems to be made in Atlas.”

“And it’s where her favourite books are set!” Veil shouted from off-screen.

“I was joking when I told you that!” Leaf turned her head away to yell back at her, before returning her attention to Ruby. “So… yeah, that’s why. Did that answer your question? Did that … help in any way?”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I think it really did.” Her situation wasn’t quite the same as Leaf’s, but the same principle applied: to make a change, to change your life, sometimes, it had to be a big change.

Sometimes, you had to cross the ocean, as not only Leaf had found out, but Penny too.

Penny…

Penny who might not want Ruby to go.

But Penny at the same time who would understand, surely, if Ruby felt the same desire for freedom and fulfilment as Penny felt herself, who couldn’t deny Ruby the same freedom for which she had struggled for so long.

Small changes don’t take; it’s too easy for things to revert back to the way they were before. Which is why you have to make a big change.

But not steal from anyone; that wouldn’t be right.

“Thanks, Leaf,” she said. “You’ve been a really big help.”

“Any time, I guess,” Leaf said.

“I’ll let you get back to watching the tournament,” Ruby said. “Who are you rooting for?”

“Rainbow Dash, obviously!” Leaf cried. She raised one fist in the air. “Atlas!”

Ruby chuckled. “Have fun,” she said. “Bye, Leaf.” She hung up.

“Are you … leaving?” Dove asked. “Leaving Beacon?”

Ruby lowered her scroll and twisted around in her seat to look at him — and Amber — both of them watching her. Amber was wary, maybe because she was worried about Salem’s other agents at Beacon — although there had been no one coming to the door, no sign of Bon Bon, and General Ironwood’s people were taking care of Tempest Shadow right now — and Ruby supposed that after what she’d been through, Amber had a right to be a little bit anxious. Dove didn’t look wary, though, Dove just looked surprised.

“I … I’m thinking about it,” Ruby admitted.

“I … I see,” Dove murmured. “Well, I suppose I can’t really criticise, can I? But I’m a little surprised, I … I would have thought that you’d be the last person to decide to do that.”

“I thought that too,” Ruby whispered. “I never imagined, when I got the chance to go here, that I’d be dropping out after just one year. But being a huntress … being a huntress was my dream, but it seems like my dream doesn’t match the reality of what other people think that being a huntress is, or should be. And so, while I haven’t made up my mind yet, it’s something that I’m thinking about.”

“But what would you do?” asked Dove. “Where would you go?”

“I’ve been offered a job by the head of Starhead Industries,” Ruby said. “The plan was to wait until graduation, but I’m hoping that Miss Rockshaw will let me start early. She’s like me, someone who believes in…” She let out a slightly bitter laugh. “In the true values of a huntress, or at least what I thought those were, even if Professor Ozpin doesn’t agree with me.”

“Is she the next person you’re going to call?” inquired Dove. “Miss Rockshaw of Starhead Industries, to make sure you have a job to go to before you drop out?”

“That would be a smart thing to make sure of, wouldn’t it, but no,” Ruby said. “No, there’s someone else that I want to call.”

Dove nodded. “I’m sorry that you feel as though it’s come to this.”

Ruby shrugged. “It is what it is,” she said. “Or at least it will be, if that’s what I decide. But it’s no fun being an outsider, and, when something that you’re part of doesn’t reflect you and what you believe, then eventually, it’s better to come away, like Blake, and find somewhere that suits you better.”

“You could try a different academy?” Dove suggested.

Ruby’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Atlas, taking orders from General Ironwood — I mean, he seems to mean well, but I don’t want to be at someone’s beck and call like that, yes sir, no sir. If I wanted to let someone else tell me what to think, I’d accept that Professor Ozpin was right and make my peace with it. Haven? No, I … Pyrrha’s values work for her, and while we have our differences, she’s a pretty nice person, I can see why … but if those are Mistralian values, then they’re not for me. And as for Shade? Only the strong survive, the tough, leave the weak behind, no. No, that’s not who I am, either. There isn’t an academy that fits me.”

“You say that you haven’t made your decision,” Dove said. “But it sounds as if you have.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Ruby insisted. “Not completely, at least. I still … there’s someone else that I need to talk to.”

“Of course,” Dove said. “Go ahead.”

Ruby nodded before she turned away from him and returned her attention back to her scroll, running her finger down the screen as she searched through her contacts, moving from the Ls to the Js.

She lightly tapped the picture of Juturna and settled back, anticipating another long-ish wait for her to pick up.

Instead, Juturna answered very quickly, after just a second had gone by. “Yo, Ruby!” she shouted. “What are you doing calling me on a Vytal day?” She moved her head closer to the screen, shifting it from side to side as though she were trying to see around Ruby. “That does not look like the Amity Colosseum.”

“It isn’t,” Ruby said. “I’m in our dorm room.”

“Why?” Juturna demanded. “Isn’t there a party going on right outside your window? Isn’t there a tournament going on right above your roof, what are you stuck inside for like some sort of shut-in nerd? Or Camilla.” Juturna paused, her posture going rigid like she’d been frozen, like Yang by that other girl’s semblance. When Juturna spoke again, leaning so close into the screen that Ruby could see her teeth, her voice was a hushed whisper. “Every time I say something like that, I worry she’s going to appear behind me, but seriously, that girl needs to get out more. I mean, have you seen how gorgeous she is? She should be flaunting that!”

“Maybe she’s not interested,” Ruby suggested. “In guys or girls.”

“I know that she’s not interested in guys; she’s only interested in clueless morons,” Juturna said. “But it’s not about going out trying to hook up; it’s about being seen and feeling good for the way that people see you. I really think that if she knew how beautiful she looked to other people, she would have a lot more confidence in herself.” She smiled. “But you didn’t call me to talk about Camilla, did you? Or did you?”

“No,” Ruby admitted. “No, I didn’t. Uh, hi Juturna, you didn’t give me a chance to say that.”

“Well, you’ve said it now, so that’s all good, yeah?” Juturna responded. “So, Pyrrha is through to the semi-finals huh, how does that feel?”

“Was there ever a doubt?” asked Ruby.

“I’d say not, but one of Turnus’ guys — Lausus, really nice, kind of cute — put a load of money on Pyrrha and Sunset losing the doubles round yesterday,” Juturna said. “Although that was mainly because the odds were pretty good, what with it being a longshot and all.”

“That’s … unfortunate,” Ruby said. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll all be fine,” Juturna assured her. “He and Turnus have come to an arrangement.”

“That’s good,” Ruby said softly. “Listen, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“What? No,” Juturna said. “No, I’m just chilling out until the semi-final matches start.”

“Alone?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah, I was watching the matches with Bro and Camilla, but since there’s a break, Camilla is preparing a room for pr— for a house guest. We have a house guest who arrived to stay with us, and Camilla is making sure that he’s all settled in. And my brother is making dinner.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, it’s nearly dinner time here,” Juturna said. “Especially since you don’t want to be cooking when the match is on.”

“That’s a good point,” Ruby murmured. “Turnus cooks? Don’t you have servants to do that? Pyrrha had servants to do all her cooking.”

“Yeah, we don’t have any household servants,” Juturna explained. “The house is full of guys, but we don’t have any maids or domestics or anything. We’ve got a couple of robots to do the dusting and the vacuuming, but Turnus actually cooks for himself. And us. When he goes out on a job, he leaves me meals in the fridge. Ooh, except that he won’t have to because I’ve got huge news: I’m going to be a robot pilot!”

“Really?” Ruby asked, sitting up a little. “What kind of robots?”

“Those big Atlesian mechs!” Juturna cried, eyes bright with excitement. “Turnus has a couple of them on order from the SDC, and I’m going to get to pilot one of them! Isn’t that awesome? I’m going to be one of the gang, a real Rutulian, part of the company as well as the family.”

“That is awesome!” Ruby whispered, a smile spreading out across her face. “Congratulations, Juturna, that’s incredible! That’s just what you wanted, isn’t it? How did you persuade them to let you? I thought they were too overprotective.”

“I mean, they are putting all that armour between me and danger,” Juturna said.

“Yeah, but still,” Ruby said. “How did you pull that off?”

“That’s the best part: I didn’t have to!” Juturna said. “It was all Camilla’s idea.”

“It was?” Ruby demanded. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Juturna said. “It was like … she said that she thought it would be a pretty safe thing for me to do, and so, if I wanted to help out, I could do that. I can’t wait for it to get here. I think I’m going to paint it in tiger stripes.”

Ruby giggled. “You should totally do that,” she said. “It’s great that they’re starting to let you spread your wings. You’re really lucky.”

Juturna cocked her head to one side. “You said that in a very meaningful way.”

Ruby sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?”

“So?” Juturna urged. “What’s up? Spill it!”

“I … I could use some advice, I guess,” Ruby said. “Or maybe just someone who will listen to me. I’m thinking about leaving Beacon.”

Juturna’s blue eyes widened, which was impressive because she had pretty big eyes already. “And you want to know what I think?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Juturna was silent for a moment before she said, “Hang on a second.” It was clear that she’d got up and was moving through the house, because what Ruby could see behind her was changing, moving along as Juturna moved along, holding the scroll in front of her. “Turnus!” she shouted. “TURNUS!”

“I don’t—”

“Ruby, I love you, but I do not feel qualified to give you advice about this by myself,” Juturna said, looking down for an instant. Ruby felt as though she were being carried through Juturna’s house along with the scroll, catching fleeting glimpses of corridors painted in bright colours, with lurid reds and vibrant greens and black and yellow stripes along with walls or ceilings painted like hordes of colourful moths were flying across them.

“Turnus!” Juturna called as she carried her scroll — and Ruby with it — into what looked like a kitchen, where the walls were a lot plainer than anywhere else in the house that Ruby had seen so far. “Turnus, leave the vegetables; this is more important.”

“What is?” Turnus asked, from somewhere out of sight.

“Ruby is thinking of leaving Beacon, and I need your help to talk to her about it,” Juturna said.

There was a pause.

“Is that Ruby on your scroll now?”

“No, it’s the Steward of Mistral— Of course it’s Ruby ! Who else would it be?” Juturna demanded.

Ruby heard footsteps before the face of Turnus Rutulus loomed over Juturna’s scroll from the other side.

“Good afternoon, Ruby,” Turnus said.

“Hey,” Ruby said.

“Would you prefer to speak to Juturna alone?” Turnus asked.

Juturna shook her head vigorously.

“I … I guess having some extra advice wouldn’t hurt,” Ruby said softly.

“Very well,” Turnus said, taking Juturna by the shoulder and turning her around so that they were standing side by side — the height difference between them was such that Juturna had to hold her scroll quite far out in order to get Turnus’ face in the picture alongside hers — facing Ruby.

“So,” Turnus asked. “Why are you considering this? When we spoke, you seemed quite committed to the path of a huntress.”

“I was,” Ruby said. “And I still am, just … maybe, not at Beacon. Or not at any of the other academies, either.”

“Oh, you’re going to bribe someone to make you a huntress early?” Juturna asked.

“No!” Ruby cried. “I mean … do you think that would work?”

“No one in Mistral who could certify you would be so vulgar as to nakedly take a bribe; these aren’t police officers we’re talking about,” Turnus muttered. “But there are channels of influence, if you had a patron of standing supporting you, someone to whom someone like Professor Lionheart might want to owe a favour to, or might find it convenient to have them indebted in some way to him, quid pro quo, more valuable than lien in certain circumstances to certain people.”

“I see,” Ruby murmured. “How about in Vale?”

“In Vale, I’m afraid I don’t know,” Turnus admitted.

“But if you’re going to leave Beacon, then why stay in Vale?” Juturna asked. “You could come to Mistral and take that job that Bro offered you! That job’s still open, right?”

“Certainly, we may be entering a phase of expansion,” Turnus said. “But Ruby spoke of still wishing to be a huntress, just outside of school, which … personally, I left Atlas, and I never looked back. I learnt more in a year at SDC security than I had in two years in the classroom, but then, I wasn’t particularly anxious to become a huntsman. It wasn’t necessary to be one for anything that I wanted to do with my life; nobody was going to hold it against me that I wasn’t graduated or certified or licensed. But if you still want to be a huntress … it can be done outside of the academies, there are ways and means, and I’m sure that must be true in Vale as much as in Mistral, but it does raise the question of why bother. Why not stay in school, if it is the path to what you want?”

“Did something happen with your teammates?” Juturna asked. “Did they do something awful?”

Ruby hesitated, wondering how much she could, or should, say. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, they … one of them did, and I’m … I’m not entirely satisfied by the way that everyone else reacted to it.”

“You mean they supported the one who did this … unforgivable thing,” Turnus suggested.

“Not exactly, no, they admitted that it was wrong, but…” Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. “They still like her.” They still prefer her to me, she thought, but didn’t say because she was worried it would sound petty, and maybe even pathetic. “And even Professor Ozpin doesn’t seem to care that much about what happened, about what she did, he still likes her and values her, and I just … I want to be valued! I don’t want to spend the next three years getting talked down to and treated like a kid with stupid ideas when I’m right, and I would have liked for somebody, anybody, to actually recognise that for once! I could have led this team as well as anybody else, just like my mom did, but apparently, I’m not trustworthy, I’m not good enough, I need somebody to keep me in check, and I’m just sick of it! I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of all of them!”

Ruby bent forwards, a sound almost like a sob escaping her.

“I don’t like it here anymore,” she whispered.

Juturna clasped her hands together over her heart. “Oh, Ruby,” she whispered.

“I … I’m sorry,” Ruby whispered, looking at them both. “I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Turnus assured her. “Strong feelings give way to strong reactions, it is the way of things. And are we not told that your Valish king fought a Great War, the greatest war ever waged between the kingdoms, over, amongst other things, our right to feel?”

“I … I guess,” Ruby muttered. “I … I think a huntress should put her own life last, and the lives of all others before. I think that we can’t falter from that fundamental truth, no matter how afraid we are, no how much we care about one another because the people that we’re supposed to be fighting for, they have people that they care about too, and they deserve to come home as well, because unlike us, they didn’t ask for any of this. That has to be the bedrock, I think, that has to be the place we stand, even if it’s also where we fall. That’s what it means to be a huntress. That’s what I thought it meant to be a huntress, only now, it seems like even Professor Ozpin doesn’t agree with me on that, so … so I’m starting to feel … I’m starting to ask myself—”

“If you can possibly stay in that place, with those people,” Turnus said.

“Do you…?” Ruby began. “Was that what it was like for you, in Atlas, in the end?”

“I?” Turnus repeated. “I…” He trailed off. “Do you know how the War of Lucrecia’s Honour began?”

Ruby frowned. “The War of … you mean the Valish-Mistral War?”

“That’s a rather unromantic name for it, but yes,” Turnus said. “The Valish merchants had been plotting to overthrow the Emperor and take control of Mistral for themselves. The masters of the Guildhall discovered their plot and presented the evidence of it before the court: faunus slaves in services to the Valish testified that they had heard their masters plotting. One of them told the assembled lords and ladies that his master, the ringleader of the whole conspiracy, meant when the coup was complete to take for his bride the Lady Lucrecia Rutulus, the fairest maid in all of Mistral at that time.”

“And one of your ancestors,” Ruby said.

“Not directly, she married a prince of the House of Nikos; we’re descended from one of her brothers,” Turnus said. “But anyway, hearing of this, my ancestor, the Lady Rutulus of the time, strode before the throne and told the Empress that either Her Majesty must give her leave to take the head of this Valish dog — or she would do it regardless, in spite of the will of the throne, because her sword could not sit idly in her scabbard in the face of this provocation. The point being that we all have lines that we not only cannot cross but cannot bear to see crossed by others, lines which, if crossed, must drive us to action that may seem extreme but which is, really, no more than the situation warrants. If you cannot bear to remain, if your lines have been crossed, then you must do what you think is right, in spite of all who may try and tell you otherwise. There comes a point at which restraint will only wound you.”

“Don’t you think it matters whether I’m right or not?” asked Ruby.

“No,” Turnus said bluntly.

“I don’t think that’s what Ruby wants to hear,” Juturna said.

“Maybe not, but I’ve had enough of people telling me what they think I want to hear to get them off my back,” Ruby said. “You don’t think I’m right, do you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, or Professor Ozpin, or your teammates, or anyone else, for that matter,” Turnus said. “It only matters what you believe and how far you’re willing to go for those beliefs you hold.”

“That … that sounds a lot like what S— what my teammate thought,” Ruby murmured.

“And you are still entitled to believe that she was wrong and to do what you feel you must in response,” Turnus replied.

“I’m beginning to wish that I hadn’t come in here,” Juturna said. “Don’t listen to him,” she added, raising one hand to cover Turnus’ face. “Unless he’s helping, in which case, listen to him. Is he helping?”

“I … think so,” Ruby said.

She wasn’t sure about the idea that the intrinsic rights and wrongs of the situation didn’t matter and the most important thing was how you felt about yourself and your own values, but then, maybe Turnus hadn’t been speaking in general terms, but only in terms of how you dealt with other people … although that story certainly sounded like it was about a general rule: kill people who want to marry your daughter. That sounded a little bit harsh, really, although death as a punishment for treason was … well, it was olden times, wasn’t it?

But, in specific, given that she was right in this specific circumstance, the idea of doing what she felt was right and never minding if people judged her or looked askance at her for it because the only thing that mattered was that she felt righteous in herself had a lot to recommend it. Ruby would just have to mind that she didn’t slip into assuming that just because she felt righteous that meant she was always behaving righteously.

“I wouldn’t want to just assume that … I mean, isn’t there something external that you use to judge whether you’re doing the right thing or not?”

“Of course,” Turnus said, pushing Juturna’s hand away. “Faith, honour, tradition handed down to us from our ancestors; what I don’t do is allow others to sway me with their opinions or interpretations.”

“Got it,” Ruby said. “In which case, yes, you’ve helped a lot.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how,” Juturna said. “Look, Ruby, it’s actually very simple: are you happy where you are right now, at Beacon?”

“No,” Ruby said.

“Do you care about the people you’re with?”

“I…” Ruby hesitated. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I like them a lot of the time, if that makes sense?”

Juturna bobbed her head back and forth. “I guess so, yeah. And is there somewhere else you can see yourself happy? Something else that you want, away from Beacon and from them?”

“Yes,” Ruby declared. “I want… I want to show them all. I want to prove that I could do all the things that they said I couldn’t, all the things that they didn’t trust me to do. I want to be the things that they didn’t believe that I could be.” I wanted to be the leader of Team SAPR, or whatever its name would have been with me as its leader. I know that I should be happy for Penny — I am happy for Penny; this is a big moment for her — but all the same, I wanted it to be me. It should be me, if Professor Ozpin really cared about this place and about what makes a huntsman or a huntress, then it would be me, just like it was my mom. I could do it. I could be a great leader if I was given the chance.

But I’ll never be given the chance here.

“If I stay here, I’m afraid I’ll always be in someone else’s shadow, kept there intentionally, on a leash,” Ruby said. “I want to step out of the shadows and into the glorious sunlight; I want to help people without restraint, without being held back by weak people, by cowardly people, by people who are so fixated upon caution that they’ve lost sight of what really matters. I want to follow the path that I’ve chosen without having to deal with everyone who wants to put up fences in my way.”

“Then do it!” Juturna yelled. “That … that sounds awesome! If you want to do all that, then what are you doing sitting around talking to us? Ruby, I … I could never be you. I’m going to be honest and say that I’m not sure that I’d really want to be you, although maybe it’s a good thing that there are people like you, but, the point is that that, what you just said, you sounded so passionate about it, you aren’t thinking about what to do, you know what to do, you’re just … are you afraid of doing it?”

“No, I’m not scared,” Ruby said.

“Really?”

“I … well … maybe a little,” Ruby admitted.

“Scared of what?”

“Of … what my dad will think,” Ruby murmured. “About what my sister will think—”

“Who cares?!” Juturna cried. “This is about you, not them; it’s your life!”

Turnus cleared his throat.

“Not now, bro, I’m talking,” Juturna said. “Ruby: run. Run and don’t stop until you’ve done all of that and more, run and run and keep on running, and don’t let anyone stop you. If all that you’ve said is what you want, then go for it!”

“I will,” Ruby said quietly. She raised her voice, lifted up on the wave of Juturna’s enthusiasm. “I will! I’ll do it. I’ll find my own place, free from everyone who tries to hold me back!” A bright beaming smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Juturna, and you, Turnus.”

Turnus bowed his head. “Good fortune attend you, Ruby Rose, and remember that wherever your road takes you, you will always have a friend here in the House of Rutulus.”

Fireworks (New)

Fireworks

Sunset didn’t hear her scroll going off at first.

Because she couldn’t hear anything.

With no way out of Vale to accomplish her mission in Mount Aris, Sunset had been left to consider the Siren as her main priority. She had … not a lead, in that regard, but an idea, at least; Cinder had said that the Siren had been put to work spreading discord and animus throughout Vale, which was vague, but she’d also said that the Valish Defence Force, in particular, had been suborned by the Siren’s magic — or at least, some of it had. So, for lack of anywhere better to look for her, Sunset planned to check out military bases and see if she could either find the Siren or else confirm evidence of her presence, like … well, like soldiers acting strangely.

As strangely as General Blackthorn or more. Something that she could show to Professor Ozpin, something to say that, yes, on this matter, Cinder was telling the truth — not that Professor Ozpin seemed to doubt this particular element of Cinder’s story, but the proof wouldn’t hurt.

Sunset wanted to bring that proof.

She wanted to do something to show Professor Ozpin that his faith in her, his decision to keep her in his service, even if not at Beacon, had not been misplaced.

However, it struck her that such a task might be better done in the dark than in broad daylight. Yes, she could use magic to mask her presence amongst the soldiers, but there was no guarantee that the Siren would be fooled by it, or that she wouldn’t be able to break any spell that Sunset cast upon herself to make herself less conspicuous. It might be wise to have the cover of darkness to retreat into, if absolutely necessary.

Of course, by the time night fell, the grimm might have started attacking Vale, but … if that happened, then Sunset would have to take a view on how bad it seemed. It might be that the chaos of the battle was to her advantage in infiltrating military installations and carrying out her search, or it might be that the search had to be put on hold as she joined the defence of Vale. She would have to see.

But considering how little Ruby and Jaune were likely to want her help on the firing line, it would probably have to be quite bad in order for her to risk Ruby’s wrath on that account.

After all, she’d been pretty explicit: she never wanted to see Sunset again, and while she would no doubt relent with the fate of the city on the line — assuming that she trusted Sunset with the safety of the city, considering — that would be a high bar to clear as far as the necessity of Sunset’s presence went.

It would be best if she could leave them to it.

It would be best if the grimm didn’t attack in such severity, for everyone’s sake.

Another reason for not attempting to get into any Valish Defence Force base until after darkness fell was that it gave Sunset a chance to use the daylight to spy out the area in advance. Which was where she currently was, on a rooftop overlooking Valish headquarters.

Well, looking at Valish headquarters. Sunset was on top of the roof of the Albright Commission HQ, an educational establishment set up after the Great War that offered scholarships to Valish students to go and study in Atlas and vice versa. Blake and Penny seemed to prove that there wasn’t actually a need for a whole institute with a headquarters building, but it was probably harder if you weren’t a huntress — the rules for the academies were very easy on transfer students; other institutions might not be so generous. Anyway, this building on which Sunset stood was some eighteen storeys high, towering over the street below and the offices of the cancer charity adjoining onto it, but nevertheless, Sunset still found herself looking up at the towering headquarters of the Valish Defence Force.

'Towering' was the right word, considering that it was all towers; the sections adjoining onto the towers, forming the walls of the castle as it were, were quite low by comparison — lower than where Sunset stood — but the towers, the towers rose up out of the ground, grasping towards the clouds as though it was their ambition to reach them. Or shoot them, considering those guns on top of the towers; Sunset wasn’t the best judge of guns, but they looked fairly large; too large to give her any trouble, thank Celestia, not to mention that they probably couldn’t depress below ninety degrees; they were meant to defend against big flying grimm.

Or General Ironwood’s airships.

There were some smaller guns mounted just below the big ones, slightly beneath the tops of the towers, and some more below that, doubtless in case the grimm — or the airships — tried swooping in below the elevation of the biggest guns. Still, they were all set very high, they were all above Sunset even on her lofty vantage point, and Sunset doubted that they would give her any trouble.

What was more troubling to her was what she saw when she looked downwards. The open space in between the towers and walls was somewhat open to her, and she could see that it had what looked like an open courtyard in the middle, a grass courtyard cut into eight segments by the stone paths that criss-crossed it from the corners of the building and from the centres of the four sides. There was a fountain in the middle of it all, possibly to compensate for the fact that working here was otherwise so grim and foreboding.

There was no sign of the Siren there — Sunset thought; the fact that Cinder hadn’t given a physical description was unfortunate, but there was nobody who seemed to Sunset like a songstress with an enchanted voice. There were just people, and not very many people at that, civil servants in grey suits or skirts and blouses, crossing the courtyard on their way from one part of the building to the other.

Which did not, of course, mean that the Siren wasn’t inside. In a building this size, it was more likely that she would be in than out.

Which meant getting in, which…

The Valish were clearly invested in people not being able to get in. They had set up concrete barricades on the corners of the four roads that surrounded the building — closing off the roads completely; cars were having to go around — with mesh fencing on top and armed guards, sandbags, machine guns. They had even parked four of their ponderous tanks, one at each corner, the barrel of their main guns pointed outwards towards the road, a ‘stay away’ sign for oncoming motorists.

The tanks looked sluggish, big metal boxes that they were, and Sunset had been up here long enough to see them moving a little, shifting into position, and they moved about as sluggishly as they looked — but, at the same time, since they were here to mount a static defence, then Sunset had to admit that they looked pretty formidable too: their main guns were short and stubby, but very large, or at least, they looked wide from up here; Sunset expected that they would make one awful bang. There was another gun, smaller but with a longer barrel, mounted in the hull, and each tank had a pair of elongated, rectangular sponsons mounted on the side. There were probably other weapons too, machine guns most likely, mounted in the oval-shaped turret and in the hull; tanks — and mechs, and any other similar sort of armour — were vulnerable if the grimm could get close, and one solution to that was to try and stick as many weapons on as possible so that there were no blindspots anywhere. It might or might not work for grimm, but it didn’t make Sunset want to get very close to one.

It was a good thing she didn’t have to. It would tax her magic a little bit, but since she could see the courtyard, she should be able to teleport inside; at night, hopefully, the building would be quiet — assuming there wasn’t a battle raging, in which case, it might get very busy, and she really would be glad of her magic spell to escape detection.

The less crowded it was in there, the better chance she would have of finding the Siren.

And then, once she had found the Siren…

That was another reason to go in after dark and hope that there were fewer people around. She might be able to keep people from noticing herself, but she couldn't stop them from noticing the effects of a magical battle if she started one.

Best that, if it came to it, she started one in as empty an environment as possible.

The Siren might not be here; there were other installations she might be at, if she was at a military facility at all, which she might not be; but if Sunset couldn't find the Siren here, then she could hopefully find out where she'd gone.

But if the Siren was here, then that brought its own … issues. Specifically, how Sunset was going to fight her without getting ensorcelled by her enchanted song.

It could be done; Starswirl the Bearded had shown that it could be done when he had defeated the Sirens — although you could argue that if he had been more confident in his ability to withstand their spell, he would have actually defeated the Sirens instead of making them Remnant's problem.

Or maybe not. Making things Remnant's problem seemed to be one of the great Starswirl's lamentable habits.

In any event, whether it could be resisted permanently, it could certainly be resisted temporarily, although the story of Starswirl's victory didn't say how he had done it. Possibly, it was as simple as a great store of willpower, which could be used to resist mind control, although it was rare to hear of it being done unaided. Sunset was not willing to take a chance on her own strength of will — after all it hadn't exactly served her well in all circumstances hitherto — but she thought that if she could just block out the sound of the song, then she would have a fighting chance.

Earplugs were liable to fall out, and anyway, they didn't always work when it came to blocking out all noise. Headphones were a better bet, and Sunset had spent some more of Lady Nikos' money on a high-end pair — what Lady Nikos would think of that when she saw it on the statement, Sunset didn't know, but she didn't want to go into battle against a singing monster relying on something she'd bought cheap — although there was the risk that they could fall off, get ripped off, or break if they were damaged.

Against that possibility, Sunset had a spell that was supposed to mask other sounds, which it did by giving you a persistent ringing in the ears, like severe tinnitus, drowning out all other noises. In theory, at least. Would it work against a magical sound? Sunset didn't know, which was why she would still be wearing noise-cancelling headphones, but if for whatever reason she lost the headphones, this spell would be her best bet.

She hoped that she didn't have to rely on it, though, because it was really, really irritating. Sunset would have preferred a spell that just turned off her ears, but no, she had to trade the sounds of the world around her for this unceasing, unchanging, nigh-unbearable ring in her ears that went on and on and on until her teeth shivered. And the worst part was that she could still hear it after she stopped the spell, the echo of the ringing sound lingering on afterward.

Sunset had cast the spell upon herself, hoping to grow accustomed to the sound — it didn't work; it was every bit as unbearable as it always was — but as a result, she didn't hear her scroll going off until after she dropped the spell, at which point, she finally heard it buzzing.

Sunset could only hope that she hadn't kept her caller waiting too long, although she was honestly a little surprised to have a caller at all, in the circumstances. Who might want to speak to her, who had not said everything they needed to say?

Apparently, judging by the caller ID, Pyrrha did.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose as she wondered what Pyrrha would have to say to her that had not been said at their parting last night. Perhaps she wanted to check if she had gone to see Lady Nikos, although she could just as easily have asked her mother that. Perhaps she had spoken to Lady Nikos and wished to offer her opinion upon Lady Nikos’ offer of a command for Sunset. Perhaps she would rather Sunset didn’t take it.

“When I told you to go and see my mother, I wasn’t expecting her to be quite so generous.”

No, Pyrrha would not tell me that; she is not so discourteous even if it was in her heart. Her heart which seemed less closed to me than others last night.

If you want to know why she’s calling, why don’t you just answer the scroll?

That was a very good point, and so Sunset answered with only mild trepidation as to what would await her once she did.

What awaited her turned out to be Pyrrha’s face, a hesitant and slightly miserable look upon it, her lips turned downwards, her brows drooping on the outer edges.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “Good afternoon. I hope that I’m not disturbing you.”

“No,” Sunset said, taking a step back from the edge of the roof. “No, not at all.”

“Good,” Pyrrha said softly. “I did … I thought that you wouldn’t have left Vale yet, but I did wonder if … I’m glad that this isn’t too much of an intrusion.”

“It is no intrusion at all,” Sunset said. “Although if we continue to speak like this, it will make our parting seem even more overblown than it did already.”

That got a slight chuckle out of Pyrrha, although it did not presage a permanent change in her downcast expression. “Yes, well, I … I’ve spoken to Mother, and it seems that we may be seeing a great deal of one another regardless.”

“My Lady told you, then?” Sunset asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “She did. Will you do it?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Sunset answered. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“I think you would be successful at it,” Pyrrha said. “I don’t know that you would necessarily enjoy it, but you would be good at it.”

“I thank you for the vote of confidence,” Sunset said, bowing her head. “Just as I congratulate you on your victory.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose, which at least got them out of that sad slump they were in. “You … did you watch?”

“Alas, what with there being no set schedule to these matches, and my being a little preoccupied with other things—”

“So you were busy?” Pyrrha asked. “I’m sorry, I should have known better than to—”

“I’m only reconnoitring from a safe distance at present,” Sunset assured her. “Nobody heard my scroll going off, not even me.” Although that is possibly a reminder to put it on silent. “I have indulged myself from checking the live feed from time to time, so that I could catch the results, although I’ve tried not to read enough to spoil myself.”

“Spoil yourself?”

“Well, I’m going to watch, definitely,” Sunset said. “Later, once the recordings get uploaded onto a hosting site. Your mother disdains them, but I hope to find them useful to my desires.” She smiled. “Even though I don’t get to savour your performance from up in the arena, or even live, I still intend to appreciate it thoroughly.”

Pyrrha bit her lip. “You make this very hard,” she whispered.

Sunset frowned. “I make what very hard?”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “I owe you an apology.”

“You…” It was all Sunset could do not to laugh, and she only restrained herself because she feared that Pyrrha would be hurt by it. “You owe me an apology? Pyrrha, with all affection, what nonsense is this?”

“Mother’s nonsense, save that it is not nonsense at all,” Pyrrha said, looking up at Sunset. “Last night, I held my peace and said nothing.”

“You said enough, ere I departed.”

“I said nothing in the room,” Pyrrha clarified. “When it all came out, with everyone present. Everyone present and not a voice raised in your defence save that of Rainbow Dash, who is no teammate of yours, who is counted a lesser friend to you than I, who is not even a Beacon student but an Atlesian visiting us down out of the north, and yet, only she spoke up for you.”

Only she wasn't surprised by what she heard, Sunset thought. “You were shocked,” she pointed out. “And once the shock was done … what was there to defend? My actions were without defence.”

“I do not speak of defending your actions but of defending yourself,” Pyrrha clarified. “I should have urged Ruby towards mercy.”

“I think, for what I did, my punishment, such as it is, is merciful enough, no?” asked Sunset.

“Perhaps, but banishment?” Pyrrha asked. “There was more clemency to be urged than that.”

“And if you had urged it, what then?” Sunset responded. “Ruby would not have been swayed, and…” And rightly so. “She was filled with righteousness and passionate intensity; she would not turn away, not at your urging.” She paused. “I fear that she would not have looked kindly upon it, seeing it as—”

“Yet another attempt to patronise and to direct her,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, you are no doubt correct; I recall her words well enough.” She sighed. “Still, though she rated me for it, though she dismissed it, I should have attempted it nonetheless.”

“To what end?” demanded Sunset. “To be dismissed, to be scolded, to be regarded by Ruby as near as bad as I myself?” She paused a moment. “What would Jaune have thought?”

“I have discussed this with Jaune,” Pyrrha said, her words slowing a little. “He cannot forgive you, not yet, perhaps not ever, but he does not hate me for the fact that I do not hate you.”

“You are fortunate indeed,” Sunset murmured.

Finally, a smile briefly graced Pyrrha’s lips. “I’m well aware. I would scarcely deserve the fortune if I was not aware of it.”

“Nevertheless, my question remains,” Sunset said. “Why would you venture thus for no good reason?”

“Because if I had, I would not think of myself as a coward now,” Pyrrha declared. “I don’t know how you managed to not throw my words last night back in my face, since I did not defend you at all, but waited until it was quiet and we were near alone to profess affection I did not demonstrate.”

“You have demonstrated your affections plentifully, I know them well, and had no need to see them on display in a hopeless cause, and worse than hopeless, a bad cause,” Sunset said. “I did not deserve to have your voice raised in my defence—”

“That is not the—”

“Very well, it is not the point, then let the point be that I am glad you didn’t damage yourself for my sake to no end,” Sunset said. “I wouldn’t want to see you in the dog house on my account.” She paused. “Your mother called you a coward?”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “And I deserved it. I let you down when you were in need. You must allow me to make amends somehow.”

“For your own peace of mind?”

Pyrrha paused. “Put like that, it sounds rather selfish.”

Sunset shrugged. “There is nothing I require that you can give me.”

“I doubt that,” Pyrrha murmured. “I must say that I doubt it very much.” She paused. “I mean to beg Ruby to show mercy to you, and allow your return to Beacon and our team.”

Sunset blinked rapidly, her breath catching in her throat. “Pyrrha, I… Pyrrha, have we not discussed this? Ruby-”

“My conscience is not in Ruby’s keeping,” Pyrrha declared.

“And not in mine either, I suppose, but I would have you hear me nonetheless,” Sunset said. “I would not have you… I have told you that I do not want-”

“Do you really not?” Pyrrha asked. “If you could come back, if everything could be as it was-”

“Nothing will be as it was,” Sunset whispered. “Nothing can, not now. Not after… it cannot be.”

“But if you could come back,” Pyrrha insisted. “Would you not? Do you not desire it? Not driving Ruby out, but… if she were to be merciful, and Jaune also-”

“Will they?” Sunset asked. “Have you spoken to Jaune about this?”

Pyrrha came very close to licking her lips, her tongue flickering out before it disappeared back behind her teeth. “I have. He is… he is presently-”

“He doesn’t want me back, does he?” Sunset said.

“I have hardly pressed the matter.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Sunset told her. “If… if you and Jaune were to fall out over this, over me, then I should feel a great weight of guilt settle upon my shoulders, and I don’t want that, not over this. You don’t owe me a broken heart.”

“And yet I owe you something,” Pyrrha insisted. “I am in your debt.”

“There are no debts between dear friends.”

“Not even when one has failed the other?”

“I should hope not, or I owe you more than I could repay,” Sunset said. “Put this from your mind and focus on the next match, and the final beyond that.”

“I should not like to be overconfident,” said Pyrrha. “And besides, my thoughts turn beyond these matches to what may follow.”

“I understand,” Sunset muttered. “But don’t worry too much about that; you’ll think yourself into a shock exit. With luck, I may be able to help with what is coming, and with better luck, you might not even realise it.” She smiled. “But good luck attend you most of all. Now focus! Glory awaits you, seize it!”

“You sound more ardent than my mother is,” Pyrrha said, a touch of amusement creeping into her voice.

“Then pay me heed,” Sunset admonished. “Win this tournament and consider your debt repaid.”

“Sunset, I was serious,” Pyrrha said reproachfully.

“So am I,” Sunset replied. “To see a laurel placed upon your brow would bring me joy. But now, I must get back to it and leave you to your preparations. Goodbye again, Pyrrha.”

“Goodbye again, Sunset, and good luck to you in your ventures,” Pyrrha said.

For all our sakes, I would be glad of that, Sunset thought as she hung up.

"You know," Tempest said, "just because I didn't feel like watching the tournament finals doesn't mean that you three can't watch them. There's nothing that says that just because we're teammates we have to stick together like glue, after all. We usually don't."

And yet, here they were, all four members of Team TTSS all seated in the TTSS dorm room. Trixie and Starlight each sat on their respective beds — on either side of Tempest, as though they were her gaolers.

"Yeah, that's right," said Sunburst, who was sitting on a chair in front of Tempest, and yet, for all that, did not look like a sentinel. "I thought we were going to go and cheer for Rainbow Dash and Atlas."

"I didn't feel like it either, sorry, Sunburst," Starlight said. "Sometimes, you just want some peace and quiet, you know?"

"Mhm," Trixie agreed. "Sometimes, it's good to just keep the door closed and the world out."

That was a lie. The only reason why Trixie in particular had suddenly acquired an enthusiasm for shutting herself in quietly was so that she could keep an eye on Tempest. It was transparent, really. General Ironwood had put them up to it; Cinder had named Tempest, and while the General wasn't sure whether to believe her or not, he didn't want to ignore the possibility, and so, he'd ordered Trixie and Starlight to keep watch on her and make sure that she didn’t get up to mischief.

It was very irritating, all the more irritating because it pointed to the fact that Tempest's plan had — even to think it was a pain — failed. She had hoped to set the cat amongst the pigeons so completely that there would be no attention spared for her, or for Sweetie Drops, but instead … instead, she had gotten the departure from Beacon of Sunset Shimmer. That departure might only be temporary, depending on whether that mission to Mount Aris that she had spoken of in her press conference was a real thing or not; it smelled like a cover up, but it might be a real mission covering up all the embarrassing secrets that lay beneath. Even if her departure was only temporary, it still meant that she was not at Beacon and would be out of the way tonight when the fireworks started.

And yet, Tempest had hoped for much more. Instead, she found herself in the position of having to be thankful that she was only being monitored by her teammates and not in a cell somewhere.

And for that, she had to thank not her own cunning but the fact that Cinder was so untrustworthy, it was doubtless hard for Ozpin and General Ironwood and the rest to believe the sky was blue when she told them.

She might not be in a cell, but it wasn't as though Tempest had any room to manoeuvre here with them around.

It was irritating. It was more than irritating; it was troubling. Any attempt to get away from her teammates, any attempt to leave them behind ahead of time, and no doubt, General Ironwood would be alerted, and the hue and cry would be raised for her. Plus, as much as Tempest didn't like to admit it, she wasn't confident in her ability to take on both Starlight and Trixie in a fight. Against Trixie alone, she would have fancied her chances; against Starlight alone … that would have been a good fight, if the circumstances had permitted her to enjoy it. But together? No, she did not relish that prospect, not at all.

Troubling, indeed.

It was not so much the loss of her ability to act that bothered Tempest — she had no need to act yet, and when she did, then the chaos of events would aid in her escape — but the inability to communicate. She was, following Cinder's downfall, the undisputed commander of the Vale operation, and she had, at a stroke, been rendered deaf and mute, unable to contact Lightning Dust, or Sonata, or Sweetie Drops, or Amber. In the external part of the plan, this was an upset but not the end of the world — not yet and for her, anyway — since the plans had been made well in advance, and everything was in readiness for the go. The grimm were in position to attack; the Valish forces and their allies inside the walls were prepared; everything was moving steadily, inexorably, towards zero hour. Tempest didn't need to communicate in order to start the countdown; it had already begun.

Which meant that Tempest could not communicate to stop it, which was the trying point, because the external elements of the operation — the grimm assault, the sabotage in Vale, the battle between the Atlesian and Valish troops — all of that was, on its own, irrelevant. Their only purpose was as a distraction, to draw off the defenders away from Beacon so that the Relic of Choice could be more easily removed by Amber and given to her.

But what if Amber had gotten cold feet as a result of last night? What if she no longer wished to help them? What if she had decided to confess everything — no, no, that wasn't likely, or Tempest would be suffering worse than the watchful eyes of Trixie and Starlight — but what if she was considering it? What if Tempest had not succeeded in calming Bon Bon down? What if she, too, was being watched? Tempest had no way of knowing and no way of finding out; it wasn't as though she could just call—

Or could she?

Tempest glanced from Starlight to Trixie and then back again. Obviously, she would have to be discreet — she couldn't have a leisurely conversation about her upcoming plans — but perhaps a quick message, something that seemed innocuous enough to someone who wasn't in the know.

She got out her scroll.

"What are you doing?" asked Starlight, in a faux-casual way.

"I thought I might try out that new game," Tempest said.

"Which new game?" inquired Trixie.

"Oh, you know, the one about us," Tempest said.

"There's a game about us?" Trixie cried, almost jumping off her bed. "Starlight, did you know about this? Why didn't you tell me that we're—?"

Tempest chuckled. "Oh, no, it's about us specifically," she said. "Sorry for the confusion." She smirked, because it was important to keep in character in this situation so as not to make anyone suspicious, which in her case meant behaving in as irritatingly smug a manner as possible. Fortunately, it came very easily to her. "No, I'm talking about the Amity Arena game that's in beta test at the moment."

"Oh, right, that one," Starlight muttered. "Yeah, that looks … okay, I guess."

"Are we in that?" asked Sunburst.

Starlight nodded. "The beta test is full of Atlas students — I mean, we're the characters, not playing the game — because we're the ones who they have all the data on, from when we had to go in and get poked and prodded and take tests, remember? They haven't had the chance to do that for all the other students yet, so they're coming later."

"While the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie is, of course, a draw all by herself," Trixie declared, "Trrrrixie can't help but feel that people will feel short-changed by a tournament game that releases without the likes of Pyrrha Nikos and Sunset Shimmer."

"That's why it's only in beta test," Tempest remarked.

"They still won't be in the full game, trust me," Starlight said. "I think it will release with just … I don't know, Team Funky, because Neon got to the finals, and then maybe a couple of other Atlas teams like … Sabre, or us, and everybody else will cost you extra." She pointed at Tempest. "Once you download that game, you are going to have someone's hand in your wallet for the rest of your life."

"Not my whole life, just until I get bored with the game."

"Or realise how much money you're wasting," Starlight replied.

Tempest snorted. "Unlike some, I have a little thing called self-control," she said. She opened up her scroll and accessed the net, scrolling through the various sites until she reached the page for Amity Arena, billed as an all-new free-to-play game capturing the Vytal Tournament like nothing ever before. Starlight was probably right that the free-to-play was probably not quite as free as advertised, but as Tempest wasn't actually intending to become a full-time player, that didn't really bother her very much. She tapped on the bright blue 'download and install' button.

"And while that's going on," she murmured, opening up her texting app, "I'll just make sure that Bon Bon is still up for tonight."

"'Bon Bon'?" Trixie repeated. "You know Bon Bon?"

"We've met, yes," Tempest said. "She worries too much about what other people think of her, and she tries too hard to make the people around her happy—"

"That's true," Trixie agreed.

"But she's fun to be around, and … we get each other, I feel, in ways that not everyone else does. Not even her friends like Lyra, or Dove," Tempest went on. "We were going to watch the end of festival fireworks tonight, if you'd like to join us?"

"That sounds fun," Trixie said.

"Sure, fine with me," added Starlight. "If you don't mind the company."

Tempest shrugged. "If you've got nothing better to do, then I don't mind indulging you," she murmured. "Now then, short and sweet: 'Is everything set for the fireworks tonight?' And send."

Tempest's message told Bon Bon a couple of things: that Tempest hadn't been arrested, but also that she wasn't completely free of suspicion, or she wouldn't have sent Bon Bon such a brief, cryptic message. Bon Bon guessed that she was being observed by someone, someone who might believe that they really were talking about the firework display, but someone around whom Tempest couldn't be honest.

Bon Bon felt a degree of grim glee at the way that Tempest's plan had failed. Yes, okay, neither of them were in custody, but it wasn't as if that business with Sunset and the Breach had diverted everyone's attention away, was it, Tempest? They still had to go around on tiptoes, didn't they?

Unfortunate, since there wasn't a lot of time left for tiptoes.

Bon Bon guessed that Tempest's message was not so much intended for her own benefit as for Amber's. Tempest didn't want to take the risk of contacting Amber directly, so she'd decided to go through Bon Bon to get there.

Bon Bon wasn't sure that she dared to take the risk of contacting Amber directly right now. She recognised the need to reach Amber, to ensure that she was still on board with the plan — Bon Bon wouldn't blame her if she wasn't, considering what had happened last night, but on the other hand, it didn't seem as though Amber had told anyone what she'd been planning to do, so maybe she was still going to go through with it — before all hell broke loose tonight, but she wasn't sure that she could do it. Yes, Bon Bon wasn't being directly observed — that she knew of — but at the same time, if Tempest was under suspicion, then surely she must be too; why would Cinder name one but not the other? Could she really go up to Team SAPR's door and speak to Amber? Not to mention the fact that there was almost always at least one member of Team SAPR or Team RSPT with her, and even though Pyrrha and Jaune were definitely up in the Colosseum, Ruby might be with her, or one of her Atlas friends.

There was a lot of risk involved.

Unless…

Bon Bon glanced across the room to where Lyra sat, tuning her harp. Neither of them had wanted to go up to the Amity Arena today; neither of them had watched any of the tournament so far; for Lyra, the glory was all played out, torn to shreds for her by Sky's death. She didn't have the appetite to watch people play-fighting for fun, to appreciate the skill involved in the martial arts. Bon Bon didn't see the point either, all things considered.

Bon Bon considered the possibility; a part of her revolted against it, she didn't want to get Lyra involved in this, she didn't want to use her this way, she'd tried to protect Lyra. But getting Lyra involved, at this point, might be the best way to protect her; she could ensure that she was kept close and shielded from the consequences of Bon Bon's actions when they finally came home to roost. And it would mean that they weren't parted; they could stay together still, for whatever came next. It wasn't as though Lyra was greatly enamoured with the huntress life, not anymore. It was like Bon Bon had said, the glory was all played out for her; if Bon Bon suggested that they run, that they had to run, they had to go somewhere else, anywhere else, somewhere they weren't known, then Lyra would do it, wouldn't she?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. It would depend on why, everything on the reason why. Because even if the glory was all played out, the goodness wasn't. Lyra might be barely competent, shading into incompetent at times, she might have buried the desire for fame or glory, but she was still a good person, with a good heart, and she wouldn't help Bon Bon, or Amber, or anyone else to do something wicked.

Which meant that if Bon Bon wanted her help, then she was going to have to lie to her a bit.

Only somewhat, because this was for a good cause, in the end, it was for Amber and Dove, it was to help two people in love get to live their lives in freedom and peace and happiness without having to look over their shoulders all the time; it was just the other stuff that wasn't so benevolent.

This had not been Bon Bon's first choice, not by a long shot, but it was perhaps the best choice available to her now.

She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat, as if the words themselves wished to preserve Lyra's ignorance and lack of involvement.

Nevertheless, she forced them out. "Lyra."

Lyra looked up from her harp. "Mhmm?"

"I…" Bon Bon walked across the room, closer to her. "I need your help with something."

"Anything, what is it?"

The offer stabbed at Bon Bon sharper than Lyra's sword could have. Bon Bon's face twisted into a grimace as she sat down on the bed next to the other girl. "I … it's a little hard to explain, but the bottom line is that I need your help to save Amber and Dove."

"'Save Amber and Dove'?" Lyra cried, sitting up straighter. "But save them from whom? And isn't she always protected by—?"

"Team Sapphire aren't protecting Amber, and neither is Team Rosepetal or anyone else that they enlist to help them," Bon Bon said. "They aren't her protectors; they're her captors. They make sure that she can't get away."

Lyra opened her mouth, but didn't speak. She frowned. "Bon Bon … you're not making any sense. 'Captors'? Why would they want to keep her prisoner, and how would they? She's Professor Ozpin's niece—"

"It's for Professor Ozpin that they're keeping her prisoner," Bon Bon declared. "Pyrrha, Ruby, Sunset, Rainbow Dash, they're not bad people, regardless of what the news says about Sunset; they're only doing this because Professor Ozpin wants them to keep his niece prisoner, to stop her from escaping like she did before." She paused. "Professor Ozpin did something to Amber. She has powers now, extraordinary abilities, and I'm not talking about a semblance; I'm talking about being able to manipulate elemental forces without the use of dust—"

"That's only possible through a semblance," Lyra said, "and even then, a semblance—"

"Would only give you one element, pyrokinesis or hydrokinesis, yes, I know," Bon Bon replied. "But Professor Ozpin, and General Ironwood, they used Atlesian technology to turn Amber into a living weapon capable of immense power."

"Amber does not act like a living weapon capable of immense power," Lyra pointed out.

"I know," Bon Bon acknowledged. "But she does act like someone who's scared, doesn't she? She acts like someone who has been through some things that have left their marks on her; I mean, look at her scars, look at her face, they did that to her, Professor Ozpin and the others! Why would I lie about that? Why would I make up this whole story—?"

"How did you find out about this whole story?" Lyra responded. "If what you say is true, then how do you know?"

Bon Bon closed her eyes. "Because I'm part of a secret organisation opposed to Professor Ozpin and his villainy."

Lyra's jaw dropped. "You … oh, so you're a secret agent now? Is that what you're saying?"

"I wouldn't use those exact words."

"But you would use that concept?" Lyra demanded. She got up, her cape of many colours swirling around her as she started to pace up and down. "Okay, let's just say that I believe you for a second, when were you planning to tell me any of this? Does Dove know this?"

"Yes," Bon Bon said. "Yes, I've been trying to get him and Amber away to safety. As to your other question: I wasn't going to tell you, ever. I thought it would be better if you didn't know."

Lyra stared at her, eyes wide. "So … what changed?"

Bon Bon sighed. "What changed is that I need your help," she admitted. "I … they're on to me. They're on to me and they're on to my associate here at Beacon. Which is why I need you to go down to Team Sapphire's dorm room and speak to Amber on my behalf; you won't be suspected."

Lyra swept her hat off her head, holding it at her side as she ran her free hand through her pale hair. “So … you’re serious about this? About all of it?”

“Do you trust me, Lyra?” Bon Bon asked. “Do you have faith in me?”

“Of course I do,” Lyra said. “It’s just … you’ve been keeping this secret from me for who knows how long, and … seriously? Amber is a living weapon?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Bon Bon allowed. “But yes, yes, she is. She doesn’t want to be, she doesn’t show it, but she is. She has that potential.”

“And Dove?”

“They met before … all of this was done to her,” Bon Bon explained.

Lyra winced. “Poor Dove. The course of love doesn’t run smooth for him, does it?”

Bon Bon shook her head. “They’re going to move Amber soon. The fact that she’s been here this long is … an indulgence, an act of petty kindness granted by Professor Ozpin, an indulgence that is about to come to an end. They’re going to take her away from Dove and make her do things, and … and he’ll never see her again. My friend and I can get them out before that happens, but we need your help.”

“My help?” Lyra repeated. A little mocking laugh escaped her lips. “My help, Bonnie, I … I suck.”

“You’re the only one that I can trust.”

“I don’t…” Lyra hesitated. “Why are Team Sapphire doing this? They seem so nice, so good, and Amber seems to like them so much; why would they be involved in a plot to hurt her?”

“Because Professor Ozpin asked them to,” Bon Bon replied. “And they are blinded by his authority. You’re right, they’re not bad people, neither are Rainbow Dash and Twilight—”

“You can’t tell me that Dash knows about this.”

“They all know,” Bon Bon insisted. “All of them, even Twi, even Rainbow, they all know and they all … none of them are bad people, as we know, but one and all, they have bent their necks and licked the boots of Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood. When it comes to Dash, does that surprise you?”

“No,” Lyra murmured. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She bit her lip. “But you can get them out, and they can be together?”

“Happily Ever After,” Bon Bon assured her. “But only with your help.”

“You keep saying that; it doesn’t make it any easier for me to buy it,” Lyra said. “But,” she added, as she set her plumed hat back upon her head, “who am I, to refuse to answer the call of true love in need?” She beamed. “What do I need to do?”

“So, you’re leaving then?” Amber asked. “You’ve made up your mind.” It certainly didn’t sound as though Ruby was still thinking it over.

Ruby shifted in her seat in order to look back at Amber, and at Dove. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m going, I … there’s nothing more to think about. I can do more, be more, out there than I can here.”

If you’d realised that sooner, then maybe things would be different, Amber thought. If I wasn’t afraid of you, then…

No. No, she couldn’t think about that. That door was closed. The path was set; all she could do now was dance when the music started.

“I hope you’re happy, with your new life,” she said softly.

“I hope so too,” Ruby answered. “I’m sure I will be; it wouldn’t be that hard. Out there, with the support of Miss Rockshaw’s company, I can be … I can be so much more than this place and these people have allowed.”

“I hope so, just as Amber does,” Dove said. “I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but … I can’t say that I don’t understand. We come here to find ourselves, and what we sometimes find is that who we are is suited for a different kind of life than this one.”

Ruby smiled thinly. “Yeah, it isn’t always what we expect.”

Amber put one hand upon Dove’s elbow. “If … if you’re leaving, then does that mean Sunset can come back? After all, you were the one who sent her away, you were the one who didn’t want her—”

“I sent Sunset away because she didn’t belong here,” Ruby declared. She bowed her head. “And although that isn’t as true as I’d hoped it was, although maybe Sunset and Beacon do belong together, each as corrupt as the other … no. No, Sunset can’t come back. At least I hope she doesn’t. Maybe Professor Ozpin will decide to bring her back, but I hope he doesn’t, and if she does … I hope she doesn’t. She doesn’t deserve to come back.”

Amber frowned. “But if she—”

“Sunset deserves to lose something!” Ruby snapped. “She has so many willing to lie for her, to excuse her, to put up with her no matter what she does: Ozpin, Councillor Emerald, the former First Councillor Aris. They all defend her, they all trust her, they all want her services. Well, that’s up to them, that’s their choice to make, but for Sunset to just … to do what she did and then to skip merrily along as though nothing happened?” She shook her head. “It’s disgusting. She won’t go to jail, she won’t be exposed, she’ll keep her freedom and her reputation, she’ll even keep Pyrrha’s friendship and her mother’s support, but she’ll lose this! She’ll lose Beacon, and this team, and … and you know what, I hope it hurts. Because it’s the only punishment she’ll ever get, so I hope it hurts … like she hurt me.”

And this is why I must dance when the music plays, Amber thought. This is why I must go through with it to the end; I dare not confess to someone so cruel. She said nothing; what was there to be said to someone like Ruby, who had revealed such an ugly side to their character?

There was a knock at the door.

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Dove, would you get that please?” she asked as she fingered the trigger of Crescent Rose.

“Of course,” Dove said mildly, giving Amber’s hand a squeeze before he walked quickly enough across the room.

He opened the door, not fully, but enough to see that it was Lyra on the other side of said door, wearing her hat and her patchwork cloak of many colours.

“Hey, Dove,” Lyra said, before looking over his shoulder to where Amber stood on the other side of the room. “Hey Amber, I hoped I’d find you here. It wouldn’t have been easy searching the school for you otherwise, with all these tourists around.”

Amber waved with one hand. “Hello, Lyra,” she said. While Bon Bon had dropped distinctly in Amber’s estimations, for obvious reasons, while Amber could hardly stand to be around that little liar who had pretended to be Dove’s friend for so long while not meaning a word of it, she still liked Lyra. Lyra had not been deceiving Dove, or Amber herself, for that matter; Lyra was not in the service of Salem. Lyra was sweet, and gentle, and played prettily upon her harp.

Lyra reminded Amber rather of herself, of the sort of person that she had wanted to be, once upon a time.

“You’re not watching the tournament?” Amber asked.

Lyra reached up and touched the brim of her hat for a second, but didn’t take it off. “No,” she said. “No, I’m not that keen on the tournament, not … it’s just not my thing. Playing at combat, treating it all like a game. I get why it’s done, I suppose, and a lot of people get something out of it, but it’s not for me.” She sighed. “So, are you going to keep me standing on the doorstep, or can I come in?”

“Sorry,” Dove said, opening the door. “Good afternoon, Lyra. How are you?”

Lyra smiled. “I’m okay, Dove. This is a better day, thanks for asking.” She stepped into the room, and Amber could see that she was holding a paper bag in her other hand, a bag in which something was rustling. “Hey, Ruby. You didn’t fancy watching the tournament either?”

“No,” Ruby murmured. “No, it’s not my thing either.”

The smile stayed on Lyra’s face. “You take all this too seriously to have much stomach for play fighting, I bet.”

“Something like that,” Ruby said quietly. “What do you want?”

“I am here,” Lyra declared, “with an invitation. As you might not know, Amber, tonight, there’s going to be a big firework display to celebrate the end of the Vytal Festival, and it’s going to be so spectacular, honestly, it’s the best; it’s the highlight of the festival. Ruby, back me up on this, the fireworks are awesome, right?”

A smile flitted across Ruby’s face, for all that it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, those Vytal fireworks, they’re always something. Of all the things that I remember from the last time the festival was held in Vale, the fireworks stand out the most, the colours, the sounds. I really…”

Amber frowned. “Ruby?”

“I … was really looking forward to—” Ruby cut herself off, shaking her head vigorously. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Would anyone like a bon bon?” Lyra asked, holding up her paper bag, shaking it a little so the contents rustled all the more.

Amber blinked. A bon bon? A Bon Bon? Could Lyra also be working for Salem, could she have been allied with Bon Bon the whole time?

“Uh … no, thanks,” Ruby said.

Dove shook his head. “Nor for me, either.”

“Amber?” Lyra asked, shaking the bag in her direction. She winked at her.

Amber hesitated for a moment, trying to work out what was going on here. Something was going on here, of that, she had no doubt, but what? Was Lyra trying to tell her that she had tricked her this whole time, but why would she do such a thing now? And why would Bon Bon leave her out of it, not letting Amber know in the way that she had let Amber know that she, Bon Bon, was one of Salem’s people. In fact, it seemed as though Bon Bon had gone out of her way to exclude Lyra; that was why Amber hadn’t suspected her.

But now … it wasn’t just a bag of sweets, Amber was certain of that.

Cinder had named Bon Bon, which meant that Ruby — or whoever had been with her — would have been suspicious of her visit, if they had let her in at all. But Cinder hadn’t named Lyra — and why wouldn’t she, if she could, unless she didn’t know about Lyra, but it was just as likely that there was nothing to say — and so Lyra could come, and not even Ruby would throw her out.

So Bon Bon had sent Lyra around to see her, to … something. And Lyra knew something was going on, that was why she winked at her.

But how much did she know? She wasn’t acting like someone who had just found out her best friend was in league with evil.

“I’ll have one, yes, thank you,” Amber replied, putting on a slight smile, forcing it into place as she walked towards Lyra, and her waiting bag of bon bons.

There were pink and blue ones in the bag, but not as many as Amber might have thought. There was a lot of empty bag in there, a lot of paper uncovered by contents, paper on which had been scribbled the words On your side.

“Take as many as you like,” Lyra said. “They’re all for you, if you like.”

Amber looked at her.

Lyra beamed back at her.

Bon Bon hardly told you anything, did she? Amber thought. But she told you that she was trying to help me, and that she needed your help to do it, and you did it.

Whatever you’re here to do, you’re doing it for me, and for Dove.

She wanted to fling her arms around Lyra and kiss her on the cheek, for being perhaps the only person besides Dove who was solely and unambiguously on Amber’s side, but that might have looked very odd and suspicious to Ruby, so Amber contented herself with saying, “Thank you,” as she plucked a pink bon bon out of the bag, holding it between her forefinger and thumb.

“Are you sure you only want one?” Lyra asked.

Amber’s response was to pop the pink bon bon into her mouth and take a blue one out the bag.

“That’s the spirit,” Lyra said. “Now, as I was saying, about these awesome fireworks, I was wondering if you had plans, or if you were free to, you know, watch them with us.”

So that’s it, Amber thought. Fireworks, meaning … everything that is supposed to happen tonight.

“Amber has plans tonight,” Ruby said.

“Come now, Ruby,” Amber said. “Why can’t we all watch the fireworks together?”

Hopefully, Lyra understood — or at least, Bon Bon would understand — that her willingness to ‘watch the fireworks’ with them meant that she was still willing to go through with their plan. Honestly, it would serve Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow right if she didn’t, considering the way that they had failed to protect her from Cinder last night, it would serve them right if she exposed them both — except that would mean exposing herself too, exposing herself to the cruel and vindictive little girl in front of her, and Amber was not willing to do that.

For better or worse, and mostly for worse, but nevertheless, this was her chance, perhaps her only chance, at freedom, and she meant to take it.

She had little other choice.

“Because … because we’re having a private party,” Ruby said. “We’re going to be watching the fireworks and celebrating Pyrrha’s Vytal Tournament victory. Yeah, yeah, that’s it.”

“Doesn’t the tournament winner get wined and dined with the civic worthies after the tournament?” Lyra asked.

“Pyrrha doesn’t want that,” Ruby said quickly. “And she doesn’t want to be mobbed by fans, either; that’s why it’s private. And you promised you’d be there, Amber, you made a commitment. And Pyrrha would be really upset if you weren’t there.”

“And there’s no room for anyone outside your little club?” Lyra asked.

“No,” Ruby said. “No, there isn’t. I’m sorry, Lyra, we … just don’t know you that well.”

“That’s fine,” Lyra said casually. “I get it. Trust me.” She looked at Amber, “I’ve got the message.”

As a Traitor Deserves (New)

As A Traitor Deserves

“Poor Sun,” Mom murmured, sinking back a little in her chair. “Congratulations to Rainbow Dash, of course, but still … poor Sun.”

“Not unexpected,” Cadance remarked.

“But unfortunate for the poor boy, all the same,” Mom said.

“Mmm,” Blake said. She started to get up from her seat. “I should … I should probably console Sun while finding time to congratulate Rainbow Dash at the same time.” Fortunately, Sun isn’t the kind of person to take something like defeat in a tournament too hard.

“I’ll come with you,” Twilight said.

“Why don’t we all go?” asked Scootaloo.

“If we were all to go, darling, then the consolation of Sun would be rather lost in the congratulation of Rainbow Dash,” Rarity remarked.

“Huh?”

“We don’t want Blake’s boyfriend to get upset,” Rarity explained.

“Aww,” Scootaloo groaned. “But I want to congratulate Rainbow Dash!”

“I’m sure if you come with us, three won’t be much of a crowd,” Twilight said. “That’s right, isn’t it Blake?”

In truth, Blake thought that Sun might not mind if they did all pile down there to give Rainbow Dash their good wishes, but … Sun would never show hurt feelings, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t feel them.

“Of course,” she said, “that’s fine. We can go together.”

“Yes!” Scootaloo cried, leaping up off her seat, her metallic legs hitting the floor with a hard thump. “See you guys later!”

“Stay close to Twilight and Blake, sugarcube,” Applejack urged. “You don’t want to get lost in a place this size.”

“And give Dashie all our love!” Pinkie yelled.

Twilight chuckled. “Will do, Pinkie.”

“Tell her she did well,” Ciel said, from where she stood just behind the seats, the muzzle of Distant Thunder almost, but not quite, resting upon the floor of the box.

“I will,” Blake said. “Or we will, anyway.”

“And tell Sun that he was very brave,” Fluttershy murmured. “Just to be able to go out there in front of all those people like that, but also to fight Rainbow Dash.”

Blake smiled. “Thank you, Fluttershy,” she said. “I will tell him that.”

With Scootaloo between them, she and Twilight left the Councillor’s box behind and began to descend the stairs towards the arena promenade.

“It’s really great that Rainbow won — not that I had any doubts that she would,” Scootaloo said excitedly, “but I hope that she gets a longer fight to show off more in the next round.”

“Some would say that a short fight is showing off more,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, I know,” Scootaloo acknowledged, drawing out her words in a way that wasn’t quite complaining, but skirting the line, “but I just want to see more of her in action, you know?”

“I have to admit,” Blake murmured, “I’m a little worried about Rainbow’s next round.”

“'Worried'?” Scootaloo repeated. “You can’t be worried, you’re supposed to be Rainbow’s friend, you should be on her side!”

“Scootaloo!” Twilight scolded her. “Blake is Rainbow’s friend, and her concerns come from friendship, don’t they?”

Blake nodded. “I’m sure that Rainbow would have made it into the semi-finals regardless,” she said, “but she got … meaning no offence at all to Sun, but Rainbow got an easy match-up in him. But the other semi-finalists? Pyrrha, Weiss, Umber Gorgoneion with that semblance of hers? Those are three tough nuts; there isn’t an easy option there that I can think of. Whichever of them Rainbow gets drawn against will give her a hard time.”

Twilight’s lips curled inwards over her teeth. “That … you’ve got a point there. But if we could only think of a way to neutralise Umber’s semblance so that it doesn’t affect Rainbow Dash, then I think she could win that fight pretty easily. After all, Yang was on the verge of victory until Umber took her sunglasses off.”

“Maybe Rainbow Dash could just beat her fast, before she can take the sunglasses off?” suggested Scootaloo.

A smile played across Twilight’s face. “Oh, so now you want Rainbow to win her next fight quickly.”

“Well, I’d rather that than…” Scootaloo muttered, trailing off before admitting that Rainbow might actually lose, presumably because that would have felt too much like disloyalty.

“That assumes that Umber does what she did in her fight against Yang and keeps her sunglasses on and her semblance in check until she’s up against the wall,” Blake replied. “But I think that was more that she was hoping to win the fight without using her semblance—”

“And she’ll try again, right?” asked Scootaloo.

“Maybe, I suppose,” admitted Blake. “But, having already shown what her semblance is, what reason does Umber have not to just use it at the start of the match? Especially since she has to know that she’ll be at a disadvantage against … well, any of her opponents otherwise. Without her semblance, can you see her beating Rainbow Dash? Or Pyrrha, or Weiss?”

“So you think she’ll just take her sunglasses off and just win the match?” asked Twilight.

“I think…” Blake hesitated. “I think Rainbow will be in for a tough fight no matter who she gets drawn against, but that Umber’s semblance is the only thing that she can’t at least fight back against — that we know of.” She — they — reached the bottom of the stairs, confronted with the promenade thronging with people, milling about this way and that. Some of them were headed for the docking pads, to get airships down to Beacon — obviously, they were people whose favourite fighter had just been knocked out, or maybe they were Haven supporters who didn’t feel that a victory for Pyrrha would be as good as a victory for Mistral and Haven and so weren’t prepared to lend her their support — while others were wandering in the directions of the various concession stands dotted around the arena, while some looked like they were just stretching their legs. Balloons floated above the heads of the tourists and spectators, while children in costumes clung to the hands of their parents, or at least, they were sternly admonished to do so.

“Against Pyrrha,” Blake said, “Rainbow Dash could attack from range. Against Weiss, Rainbow could hope to use a combination of speed and aerial agility to outmanoeuvre Weiss’ glyphs. But against Umber’s semblance?”

“There has to be a way,” Twilight said. “No semblance is so perfect, so unbeatable, that it provides the wielder with absolute protection. There’s always … nothing is ever perfect.”

“I know,” Blake agreed. “But unless we can—”

She stopped dead, whatever other words she might have said dying on her lips, stuck fast in her throat, frozen there as though the temperature had dropped so suddenly that the very air had turned to ice as she stared across the promenade.

“Blake?” Twilight asked. “Blake, are you okay?”

Blake didn’t reply. Blake hardly heard Twilight speaking at all; her very voice was muffled to Blake’s ears, like Blake was underwater or surrounded by cotton wool.

Blake heard little and said less as she stared through the crowd at Ilia Amitola.

Her old friend Ilia, her trusted friend Ilia, Ilia who had unburdened herself to Blake of her deepest secret … her White Fang comrade, Ilia.

Blake hadn’t seen her since Mistral, since Blake and Adam had left for Vale when Sienna Khan had appointed Adam to take command of the Vale Chapter. Blake, when she had thought about Ilia at all, had assumed that she was still in Mistral, somewhere, continuing the work of the White Fang there — that, or she was dead; Blake had considered that possibility too. Ilia was a warrior, after all, a warrior in a warrior kingdom, and the chance that she might die by the sword could not be dismissed out of hand. Blake had considered that she might die, although she had never expected to find out if Ilia was dead one way or another; what she had not considered was the possibility that she would see Ilia in Vale, still less on the Amity Colosseum.

It was Ilia, Blake had no doubt about that. Yes, she was a way off, and yes, there were a lot of people in the way, but it was Ilia, Blake would stake everything on it; it was her, it absolutely was. Blake recognised her face, recognised the way that her ponytail — which emerged out of the back of the ballcap she was wearing to try — and fail — to hide her face — curled up at the tip like a chameleon’s tail. It was her, and aside from her dress — she was wearing a grey janitorial jumpsuit — she looked no different now than she had in Mistral, when she and Blake had sat up on the roof of the Temple of Melissa, Goddess of the Hearth and Hospitality, Goddess of Charity, Goddess of the Unwashed and Unwanted, and Ilia had told Blake her story: how she had lived amongst humans for years, attending a fancy Atlas prep school — Crystal Prep, according to Rainbow Dash — until her reaction to the death of her parents in a mining accident had betrayed her.

“I broke their teeth.”

Outfit aside, she looked just the same. And she was here, right here; Blake could see her through the crowd.

And for a second, it looked as though Ilia saw her too; she turned, and it was like she looked right at Blake, their eyes meeting.

Then she turned away and … disappeared. Blake lost sight of her in the crowd.

Where did you—?

“Blake!”

Blake shuddered a little as Twilight finally raised her voice high enough that it penetrated Blake’s consciousness.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked. “You seemed to just space out there.”

Blake frowned. What are you doing here, Ilia? What is the White Fang doing here? “Twilight, I need you to take Scootaloo back to the Councillor’s box right now, and—”

“What?” Scootaloo cried. “No, I’m not going back, we haven’t—”

“You need to go back!” Blake said sharply. “Twilight, take her back.”

“Why?” Twilight asked. “What’s going on? Did you see something? What?”

Blake leaned forward, reaching out to put a hand around the back of Twilight’s neck — gently, of course — her fingers resting under the low bun in which Twilight was wearing her hair today as she urged Twilight’s head forward a little, so that their foreheads were almost touching.

“I just saw an old comrade from the White Fang,” Blake whispered into Twilight’s ear. “You need to take Scootaloo back and tell Shining Armor, Ciel, Applejack, everyone to be on their guard.”

Twilight gasped. “You … here?” she asked as Blake released her, and the two of them straightened their backs. “You saw them?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “I did. I’m sure.”

Twilight swallowed, nodding twice in quick succession.

“What are you—?”

“Not now, Scootaloo,” Twilight said quickly. She closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she added, as she knelt down in front of the younger girl. “I’m sorry, I know that you wanted to congratulate Rainbow Dash on her great fight, but it isn’t safe. You remember Cadance’s wedding?”

Now it was Scootaloo’s turn to gasp. “You mean the—”

“Shhh, we don’t want to start a panic,” Twilight urged. “But you know, Rainbow Dash wouldn’t want you to get hurt, so why don’t you come with me and we’ll go back to where my brother and Applejack can protect us?”

Scootaloo sighed. “Okay. Why do they always have to mess everything up?”

“Because they’re not very happy, and they don’t like other people to have any fun either,” Twilight said. She winced. “Sorry, that was too glib, wasn’t it?”

“A little, but in the circumstances, I think you deserve a pass,” Blake muttered.

Twilight didn’t smile. Her lips barely twitched, and only on one side so that she looked more like she had a muscle spasm. “Why do you think they’re here?”

“I don’t know, but there aren’t many good possibilities,” Blake said softly. “I doubt that she’s here to watch the tournament.”

“Do you think that it’s—?”

“It could be,” Blake said, guessing that Twilight was about to wonder if this was some fresh attack on Councillor Cadenza. “That’s why you need to warn them now.”

“Right,” Twilight said, nodding briskly. “And what about you, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go after her and find out what she— no,” Blake said, contradicting herself even as she took the first step off in pursuit of Ilia. “No, no, I won’t; I am going to call General Ironwood and tell him what I saw. Then I’m going to go after her.”

Now, Twilight looked as though she was almost smiling. “Rainbow would be very proud. Good luck?”

“Do I need luck,” Blake said, “when I’ve got an army backing me up?”

“Maybe try not to get too cocky,” Twilight said. “Come on, Scootaloo, let’s get back.”

“Okay,” Scootaloo said, her voice subdued. She cast one last look up at Blake, an earnest expression on her face. “Be safe,” she said, before she allowed Twilight to usher her back the way that they came from, towards the stairs.

Blake watched them go for a couple of seconds, before she turned back in the direction in which she had seen Ilia.

What are you doing here? What are you up to? The White Fang had been quiescent ever since the Breach and for obvious reasons: heavy casualties, the loss of the leader of the Vale Chapter, the expenditure of all their dust, the morale blow that seemed certain to accompany such a colossal failure. They had been broken, or so it had seemed, and the focus of their attention had shifted to other threats: Cinder, Salem, and possibly Salem’s other henchmen in Beacon.

It seemed that they had been foolish to discount the White Fang as they had done, but why was Ilia here? Even if Cinder or Tempest Shadow or whoever was actually working for Salem still had managed to rally the White Fang in Vale — and that was a big if, considering all that their involvement in Cinder’s schemes had cost them — then why would Ilia be here? She wasn’t in the Vale Chapter.

Unless Sienna Khan had appointed her to lead the chapter, after Adam’s death. Blake hadn’t thought of Ilia as leadership material, but the High Leader might disagree, and Adam had been about as young when he had gotten the job.

Even if that were so, it still didn’t answer the other questions.

Questions, Blake knew, that weren’t going to answer themselves while she just stood here like this.

She got out her scroll, resisting the urge to get out Gambol Shroud while she did so, and called General Ironwood.

She had expected that she might have to wait a while for him to answer, since no doubt that General was very busy, especially with everything else that they were expecting to see happen that day or night. However, she was surprised by the speed of his response, the screen of her scroll going dark and General Ironwood’s voice issuing out of it.

“Belladonna,” he said, “is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” Blake said softly, holding the scroll close to her face as she slunk closer to the wall of the promenade, hoping not to attract too much notice. She wasn’t entirely successful at this — how many kids were dressed as her? — but while people pointed at her, they seemed to all have the courtesy not to bother her while she was taking a call.

She turned her back on them regardless, as she went on, “Sir, I think there’s at least one White Fang agent on the Amity Colosseum.”

“What makes you think that, Belladonna?” asked General Ironwood.

“Because I saw one of them, sir; I recognised her,” Blake said.

There was a moment of, not silence, because Blake thought that she could hear the General grinding his teeth, and if he were, then she could hardly blame him in the circumstances, but of quiet nonetheless.

“Any thoughts on why they’re here?” General Ironwood asked. “Do you think we’re looking at a bomb in the arena?”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Blake said. “That kind of mass-casualty event, I won’t say that it’s never the White Fang’s style, but there are a lot of faunus up here in the Colosseum; the White Fang wouldn’t want to just blow them all up.”

“They did try and destroy all of Vale,” General Ironwood reminded her.

“Yes, sir, but that was … unique circumstances,” Blake murmured. “Ilia isn’t a bomber; she’s a specialist, an expert in stealth, infiltration … and assassination. I’ve already told Twilight to notify Captain Armor.”

“Good work, Belladonna,” General Ironwood said. “Do you still have eyes on the suspect?”

“No, sir, she disappeared; I think she went down one of the maintenance corridors. She was dressed as a janitor.”

“Name and description?”

“Ilia Amitola,” Blake said. “She’s a chameleon faunus, but she doesn’t have any visible faunus traits; she can pass for human. She was dressed as an Amity Arena janitor. She used to be a student at Atlas’ Crystal Prep, so there might be a photograph of her in your records.”

“Irving, search the database for the records of an Ilia Amitola who was enrolled at Crystal Preparatory Combat Academy,” General Ironwood barked. “When you find her picture, I want it, and her profile, distributed to all units on the Amity Colosseum and at Beacon, with the warning that the picture is a few years old at this point, target was last seen dressed as a janitor.”

“Yes, sir,” someone, presumably Irving, said in response.

“Belladonna, I’ll consult with Ozpin on whether or not to evacuate the arena,” General Ironwood said. “And I’ll have squads start sweeping the guts of the Colosseum.”

“I’m going to start searching too, sir,” Blake said. She remembered that she probably shouldn’t have asserted that so baldly, and so added “With your permission, of course.”

“Of course,” General Ironwood added dryly, leaving Blake momentarily unsure whether he was being sarcastic or giving her his permission. “What’s your location? I’ll have Team Funky back you up.”

“Sir, I’d rather get after her as quickly as possible,” Blake said. “Funky can catch up.”

“Alright,” General Ironwood said. “But be careful. Don’t take any chances until reinforcements reach you.”

“I’ll be careful, sir,” Blake said, and she mostly meant it.

“I wouldn’t want to lose you before you’ve even officially transferred schools,” General Ironwood added.

“No, sir,” Blake said. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Alright then,” General Ironwood said. “Good work, Belladonna. Ironwood out.”

He hung up. Blake quickly put her scroll away. She still didn’t draw Gambol Shroud, even though her right hand was starting to itch to do so; she didn’t want to alarm the crowds by drawing her weapon.

What are you doing here, Ilia?

The question burned in Blake’s mind as she began to move towards where she had last seen Ilia and in the direction that she thought Ilia had gone.

“Twilight?” Applejack said, twisting around in her seat to look back at Twilight as she and Scootaloo made their way back into Cadance’s box. “You're back early. Two of yeh are, anyway.”

“That was no time at all, darling,” Rarity added. “Why, that was hardly enough time for you to make it down the stairs, let alone across the arena.”

“And where’s Blake?” asked Lady Belladonna. “She didn’t come back with you?”

“No, ma’am, she didn’t,” Twilight said. She swallowed. “She … spotted a White Fang agent on the promenade.”

“White Fang?” Shining Armor exclaimed. “Twily, are you serious?”

“Would I joke about something like that?” Twilight demanded. “Blake sent Scootaloo and I back up here; she’s informing General Ironwood about what she saw … then she’s going after her, the girl she saw.”

“'Going after her'?” Lady Belladonna repeated, half rising out of her seat. “Can’t she leave that to the soldiers on duty here?”

“She could, without orders to the contrary,” Twilight admitted, “but if she did that, then … well, if she did that, then I’d worry she’d been kidnapped and replaced by an impostor. Sitting back and letting other people do the work just isn’t Blake’s style.”

Lady Belladonna was silent for a moment, before she sighed and sank back down into her feet. “Yes, you’re right, of course,” she murmured. “I may not always like it, but that’s who Blake is. It’s who she’s always been, ever since she was a little girl.”

“What are the White Fang doing here?” Fluttershy whispered.

“Maybe … maybe they’re here to watch the tournament?” Pinkie suggested.

“If only that were true, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said. She stood up, “Scootaloo, darling, don’t just stand there … so close to the doorway. Come down and sit with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.”

Scootaloo made her way down the rows of stairs. “It’s all going to be okay, isn’t it?”

“Sure it will, Sugarcube,” Applejack assured her, working the lever on One in a Thousand as though to emphasise the point. “Sure it will.”

“Eyes on the entrance, people,” Shining Armor commanded. “There’s only one way in or out of this box, so we can’t complain we didn’t see them coming. Twily, make some room.”

Twilight shuffled out of the way as Cadance’s suited security detail drew their sidearms. They didn’t point them at the door, but they held them ready, pointed down but clearly able to be pointed at the door at a moment’s notice.

Shining Armor was not, unfortunately, wearing Sibling Supreme, his suit of armour; all he had by way of weapons was a small shield generator, a hexagonal pad like a very large watch, worn on one wrist over his jacket sleeve — to which he had given the oh so witty name It’ll Do — and Magic Missile — from that game that he’d been really into back when he and Cadance started going out — which looked, when he drew it, like a pretty standard pistol, which extended in his hand to be about carbine length, with the soft blue glow of hard-light dust running in a glowing strip down the barrel.

Unlike Cadance’s security detail, or Shining Armor, Ciel did aim her weapon at the doorway, and the length of Distant Thunder meant that it reached almost out of the doorway in any case.

“You realise that if you fire that thing and miss, you’re liable to punch right out the side of the arena, right, cadet?” Shining Armor asked.

“Then, sir, with the greatest respect, I will not miss,” said Ciel.

“Pinkie,” Rarity said. “Would you mind handing me my sword?”

“Your sword?” Applejack repeated. “Rarity, Pinkie don’t—”

Pinkie reached into her voluminous hair and produced Rarity’s slender fencing sabre, placing the hilt, which was foiled with gold and adorned with a few lapis lazuli spheres and shimming blue topaz, into Rarity’s hand.

“Thank you, darling.”

“Yeah, Ah don’t know why Ah didn’t see that comin’,” Applejack muttered. “Captain, you’ve got this, right?”

Shining Armor nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got this.”

“Glad to hear it,” Applejack said. “In that case, if y’all are gonna be alright without me, Ah’m gonna go back up Blake.”

Twilight began. “I’m sure General Ironwood will send someone—”

“But that girl ain’t gonna wait for ‘em, am Ah right?” Applejack asked.

“She’s getting a lot better!” Twilight protested. “But … no, probably not.”

“Then Ah’d best get movin’, then,” Applejack said. “Before she gets into too much trouble all on her lonesome.”

“Do you know how many White Fang agents there are?” Ozpin asked, his voice echoing out of the speakers and onto the bridge of the Valiant.

“No,” Ironwood said. “Belladonna only saw one, but that’s no guarantee that there is only one.”

“Indeed,” Ozpin murmured. “It never rains, does it?”

“Not often, no,” Ironwood replied.

“Have you alerted anyone else to this?”

“Colonel Sky Beak is standing behind me,” Ironwood said, aside from anything else reminding Oz that he ought to choose his words carefully when it came to talking about their plans to knock out the Valish Defence Forces in a single throw. “But we haven’t informed General Blackthorn or Councillor Emerald.”

“General Blackthorn is … changed,” Sky Beak said. “He isn’t the man I knew before he got the promotion to commanding officer. Based on his recent behaviour, and the fact that this seems to be something that General Ironwood’s forces on the Colosseum should have well in hand, I thought it was best not to bother him with it.”

“Thank you, Colonel Sky Beak; your discretion is appreciated,” Ozpin said courteously. “But may I ask why you also felt it best not to bother the First Councillor, as it were?”

“Again, Professor, what’s he going to do about it?” Sky Beak replied. “Tell General Ironwood to handle it, which he’s doing already? Or tell General Ironwood to stand down and wait anything between fifteen minutes to over an hour for Valish police — probably quite stretched Valish police, at this point — to get up to the Amity Arena to do what the Atlesian troops have already been ordered to do? Besides, General Ironwood was appointed head of Festival security; I believe this falls squarely under his purview.”

Ozpin chuckled. “I think, Colonel, that if Councillor Emerald knew what kind of a man you were before he appointed you as General Ironwood’s liaison, he might have chosen someone else.”

“Councillor Emerald knew that I was a loyal Valishman who wished the best for his kingdom, Professor,” Sky Beak said. “Or at least, he ought to have done; I’ve made no secret of it.”

“Vale may not thank you, Colonel, but you have my gratitude nonetheless,” Ozpin said. “Of course, James, the same arguments that the good colonel has just advanced for keeping our councillor and his commanding general in the dark might just as easily apply to me. What can I do that you are not already doing yourself?”

“Are you saying that you’d rather I hadn’t told you?” Ironwood asked.

“I might have preferred to remain in blissful ignorance, although it’s probably best that I didn’t,” Ozpin said, and to be honest, Ironwood could hardly blame him for that. The old man had enough on his plate, gods knew, what with the grimm outside the walls and the possibility of Salem having agents inside Beacon still and an equestrian monster … in Ozpin’s position, he might have been glad not to have had one more thing to worry about, even if he, like Oz, would have known that it was best that he did know.

“I was wondering if we ought to evacuate the arena,” Ironwood said. “I wanted your input.”

“I see,” Ozpin murmured. “I would prefer it if you didn’t, James.”

“That’s a risk,” Ironwood pointed out.

“A calculated risk,” Ozpin responded. “Didn’t Miss Belladonna say that she didn’t think that the White Fang were attempting to bomb the arena?”

“Belladonna could be wrong,” Ironwood pointed out. “She said that this girl was a stealth expert; that could be useful for smuggling a bomb onto the arena.”

“But I find myself agreeing with Miss Belladonna that the White Fang wouldn’t intentionally try to blow up an arena that includes a large number of faunus in the crowd,” Ozpin said.

From the commander’s chair, Fitzjames snorted.

“Does one of your officers have something they wish to say, James?” asked Ozpin.

“No,” Ironwood said, giving Fitzjames a look. “But I think that if he did, Major Fitzjames might point out that it wasn’t long ago that the White Fang attempted to breach the defences of Vale and open the city up to a grimm attack.”

“An aberration,” Ozpin said. “The architects of which are dead or in custody. We must not allow that one act to colour our entire view of the White Fang.”

“My view is pretty coloured by everything else that they’ve done up until now,” Ironwood muttered.

“And yet one of their former members has your complete trust, does she not?” Ozpin asked.

“That has nothing to do with this, Oz,” Ironwood said, his voice sharpening. “I think that you don’t want to evacuate the arena because you don’t want to cause a panic!”

“That is in my mind, I confess,” Ozpin said. “We agreed to continue the tournament, up to the finish, because it would distract the people from their troubles—”

“From the threat of grimm hordes gathering outside the walls, not the threat of being blown up in their seats,” Ironwood pointed out.

“I don’t believe that will happen,” Ozpin said. “Do you believe that will happen?”

Ironwood didn’t reply right away; he considered the question honestly, according to not only his own judgement but also according to the judgement of Belladonna, who didn’t believe that the White Fang were on the Colosseum to try and blow up the arena.

He honestly wasn’t sure that he believed it either. Yes, the White Fang did use bombs, but the last bomber that they had sent to Vale was dead — considering the way that he’d died, burned to death in police custody, Ironwood was starting to consider the possibility that Cinder Fall had killed him in order to maintain her control over the White Fang in Vale — Belladonna was right that it wasn’t their go-to strategy. There had never been a concerted bombing campaign for faunus rights, only limited, almost random, attacks, alongside … well, to be honest, the White Fang’s strategy resembled a smorgasbord more than a strategy at times. Ironwood understood that, with the High Leader based in Menagerie as often as not, only sometimes travelling to Mistral where they could actually get CCT reception, the various chapters in the kingdoms were largely left to their own devices.

So the Valish chapter had tried to destroy Vale, while the Atlesian chapter had tried to replace a Councillor with a White Fang operative, and the Mistral chapter … the Mistral chapter seemed a little more free of megalomania and appeared to spend most of its energy battling crooked landlords.

But then, someone who actually lived in Mistral might see it differently.

He certainly wasn’t going to claim that the White Fang had suddenly discovered moderation in the wake of the Breach … but that wasn’t the same thing as claiming that they were going to try and blow up the Amity Arena.

Especially when there were other targets present: Councillor Cadenza, or maybe even Lady Belladonna if they’d learned of her presence.

Stealth, infiltration, and assassination, just as Belladonna had said.

“I don’t think they will,” he admitted. “I think it’s more likely that they’re here to make an attempt on the life of Councillor Cadenza, or Belladonna’s mother.”

“I am more worried about the tournament finalists,” Ozpin replied.

Ironwood’s brow furrowed slightly. “Really?”

“If one wished to assassinate a Councillor, surely, there would be better times to try than during the Vytal tournament?” Ozpin asked. “But, if one of the tournament finalists, who have already become known across Remnant for their accomplishments so far, were to fall, particularly if the semi-finals were to be announced and someone were to fail to appear because … it would not only cause great sorrow amongst the crowds but would be a powerful statement of the relevance of the White Fang.”

“You might have a point, if I thought that any of the tournament finalists could be taken out by some White Fang goon,” Ironwood replied. “I don’t see Dash or Katt going down like that; do you think so little of Miss Nikos?”

“Even the greatest warrior may be taken by surprise,” Ozpin reminded him.

“Maybe so,” Ironwood allowed. “But we aren’t surprised. I’ve already ordered units to begin searching every inch of the Colosseum. And if they do make an attempt on the lives of one of the finalists, well,” — he ventured a smile, for all that Ozpin couldn’t see it — “I imagine they’ll live long enough to regret it.”

The maintenance door was marked by a big black hammer and spanner, crossed like swords, over a yellow circle, all painted over the metal of the door itself.

Underneath the symbol, for anyone who didn’t get it, were the letters Maintenance Personnel Only! No Admittance!

Despite this, the door was open a crack.

Blake glanced around. She stood at the mouth of a corridor, which led downwards a short distance before coming to two staircases leading to the upper levels of the stands and then, beyond them, the private boxes. Past that were more staircases, leading to the lower levels of the stands and then more stairs that led — via gates that required a scroll-scan to get into — the area at the front that was reserved for tournament competitors.

One couldn’t get into the arena itself from here; this tunnel didn’t lead out onto the battlefield.

It was better lit than that corridor, for one thing.

It was not impossible that the open door was just a decoy and that Ilia had actually headed into the stands, but Blake doubted it. What would Ilia do there, start indiscriminately attacking people? That wasn’t the sort of person Ilia was; she was angry, for sure, and given what she’d been through, it was hard to say that she didn’t have a right to her anger, but she wasn’t Adam, she wasn’t the type to take her anger out indiscriminately on any human who crossed her path. Ilia’s anger was more focussed, like a knife, to be wielded against the enemies of the White Fang.

That was not to say that Ilia was a shining paragon of morality, but … Blake had once seen her kill a bailiff of the Ming family, who had been notorious for the haste he would make to evict tenants from the land he had charge of on the slightest infraction, the slightest delay in the rent payments, and while Ilia had taken a glee in the man’s death that Blake had found distasteful, she had also stopped their comrades from killing the man’s husband and children, letting them flee into the night before they set the house on fire.

Not a story that Blake felt comfortable sharing with General Ironwood, obviously — her contribution had been limited to lighting up the house, but even so, it wasn’t the sort of detail that she wished to share; her past wasn’t a secret to her new comrades in general terms, but she wasn’t proud of the details and didn’t want to go shouting about them — but the point was that Ilia wasn’t a random indiscriminate killer.

At least, she hadn’t been when Blake had known her last. People changed, for better or for worse; look at Blake herself — look at Adam, who hadn’t always been an indiscriminate killer either; the rage at injustice that burned within his breast had given way to bitterness, a bitterness that had eaten away at him and hollowed him out.

Perhaps the same thing had happened to Ilia, although Blake hoped not.

She hoped … hoped what, exactly?

Well, that Ilia hadn’t come here to blow up the Colosseum, for a start, but also…

That Blake wouldn’t have to kill her, like she had helped Sunset kill Adam.

She was aware that if Ilia had gone through this door, and if Blake followed her, then she might have to do just that. She could hardly expect Ilia to come quietly, hardly expect a few words of Blake’s to undo years spent with the White Fang. She could hardly expect Ilia to set Lightning Lash aside simply because Blake asked it of her.

If Ilia knew what Blake had done, then she no doubt despised her as a traitor.

If it came to a fight, as it probably would if the two of them came together, Gambol Shroud against Lightning Lash, then Blake would have to kill her — or be killed herself.

But if Blake didn’t go through this door and invite that confrontation, then Ilia might kill someone else. And the blood would be on Blake’s hands either way.

She pushed open the maintenance door, because she was as willing to face Ilia in battle as she was willing to hope that Ilia had not become the sort of person who would massacre the spectators in the stands.

The corridor was bathed in white fluorescent light, which reflected off the bright metal walls of the corridor, making it seem a little cold. There was no sign of Ilia.

Blake stepped through the doorway quickly, closing the door — but leaving it ajar for Team FNKI — behind her and now, out of sight, drawing Gambol Shroud over her shoulder.

She kept it in sword mode, since there might not be a lot of time — Ilia certainly wouldn’t give her time, if she was aware of Blake — for shooting before it came to close quarters. The ribbon dangled from the pommel down to the floor, even as Blake gripped the cleaver tightly in her off-hand.

The instinct to run after Ilia warred with the instinct to be cautious, to remember that this was Ilia Amitola that she was after and that she had always been stealthier than Blake and that she didn’t want to run into an ambush.

Equally, she didn’t want to let Ilia do … whatever it was that she had come here to do. If she delayed, if she was too cautious, if she was too concerned for her own safety, then Ilia would slip away, somewhere into the depths of the Colosseum, and maybe even find somewhere to evade the Atlesian search parties.

She would have to take the risk.

Blake’s shoes pounded upon the metal floor as she ran down the corridor, her two blades pumping up and down as she ran, her long black hair streaming out behind her.

Would Ilia be alone when Blake caught up with her? That would depend on her mission, but possibly — probably — not. Solo missions were not unheard of, and as an elite, Ilia was more likely to pull them than not, but equally, a high risk, high reward mission was more likely to be given to a team of operatives. But on the other hand, Ilia might have more luck operating solo in an environment like this one.

If she were accompanied, then the question was 'by who?' It returned to the question of what Ilia was doing here, of why she had come to Vale. Had she brought others with her from Mistral?

The questions swirled through Blake’s mind as a set of doors slid open for her, leading into another corridor. She pushed them out of her mind; she needed to focus, needed to keep her mind on what was actually important: catching up with Ilia and stopping whatever designs she had.

This corridor curved slightly, and Blake half thought that she might find Ilia waiting on the other side of the curve, but there was still no sign of her before she came to two sets of doors, one leading straight ahead, the other on her right, leading no doubt deeper into the central depths of the arena.

Blake wasn’t sure why Ilia would want to go that way, because sabotaging the engines would be as bad as trying to blow up the colosseum, but from the centre, she or they could emerge at any point they wished to accomplish their mission.

While the door directly ahead would simply lead to more corridors running around the outer circle of the arena. Ilia could get to where she wished to from there, but not so swiftly.

Blake took the door on her right, which opened into darkness; the lights were off. Blake felt justified in her choice already; turning the lights off would be an easy way for Ilia to make life more difficult for her human pursuers even while, as a chameleon faunus, she would have no problem seeing in the dark.

Neither did Blake, for that matter; she could see perfectly well that there was nothing but a staircase leading downwards.

Blake descended, her feet still echoing upon the stairs, and as she got closer to the bottom, she could see that there was something there after all — at the foot of the stairs, a set of dark grey overalls; she had missed them at first because their colour blended into the darkness — and so might Ilia, now that she had shed those colours. Ilia didn’t have a visible faunus feature, but her chameleon-ness manifested in her being able to change the colour of her skin. Sometimes, it was involuntary, driven by her emotions, but other times, she could control it.

Her being able to turn as black as coal had proven very helpful in blending in during nighttime infiltrations.

Something that Blake would have to watch out for, but not something she could allow to slow her down.

She ran through the door, into a room where Ilia was obviously not hiding because the lights were on. It was a spacious chamber, octagonal in shape, with a janitor’s cart — with a mop and a vacuum cleaner mounted on the back, a tray of cleaning supplies, and a large basket full of rubbish bags emptied from the various bins around the promenade — parked and abandoned near the door that Blake had just come through. There was some sort of control panel in the centre of the room, or perhaps a monitoring station; the monitors were displaying information about the state of the vending machines, the toilets, yes, this was definitely a monitoring station, designed to let janitors know about any necessary tasks they needed to perform.

There were a couple of lockers, one marked with ‘Cleaning Supplies’ the other marked with ‘Vending Machine Refills.’ A fridge sat in one corner of the room, with a table and a few chairs nearby. There was an elevator door on one side of the octagon and another door on the far side of the octagon. It was towards that door that Blake ran, intending to dodge around the monitoring station to get there.

She heard a crash behind her. She started to turn, quickly—

Not quickly enough. She didn’t see the web fluid coming until it had clamped around her like the fingers of a powerful hand. Her weapons clattered to the floor as Blake’s arms were pinned down by her side, and she was yanked backwards off her feet and onto the ground with a thump.

Trifa was sitting up in the janitor’s cart, the cart around which bags full of rubbish had been tossed to land around it, one of them splitting open to spill empty or half-empty drinks cans, tubs of popcorn, bits of popcorn, candy wrappers, and banana skins out on the floor. Cold coffee began to pool outwards, staining the shining metal.

She hid herself in the basket underneath the garbage.

Clever.

Kind of disgusting, but clever.

The web fluid emerged from one of Trifa’s stone-grey hands like a cable, a ship’s cable tying her to Blake; with her free hand, her left hand, Trifa plucked a spotted banana skin off her outfit and threw it away.

“I got her!” she shouted.

The door in front of her — the same door towards which Blake had been running — opened, and six people stepped through. Three of them Blake knew: Ilia, of course, and Gilda too, and also Woundwort, who had once commanded an elite unit of the Mistral Chapter. The others — an otter faunus, a bat faunus, some kind of ape faunus — were all unknown to her.

Which meant that they, like Ilia, were not of the Vale Chapter — new recruits would hardly have been given a task like this, a task that warranted someone of Ilia's skill.

A task like…

"Well done, Sister Trifa," the bat faunus purred appreciatively.

"Knock it off," Gilda muttered. "Rill, lock the door." As the otter faunus — Rill — walked across the room to press a couple of buttons on the control panel next to the door that Blake had barrelled through with such reckless abandon, Gilda seemed to hesitate, looking down at Blake. "Hey," she said.

Blake's eyebrows rose. "'Hey'? 'Hey,' really?"

"Well, it isn't like I can just ignore you lying there," Gilda protested.

Blake rolled her eyes. "You showed yourself to me on purpose, didn't you?" she asked Ilia, turning her attention to her. "You showed yourself to me, knowing that I'd follow, and then you had Trifa lie in wait for me. Was I … are you … are you here for me?" She could hardly credit it, and yet, in the circumstances, it seemed the most reasonable inference to draw.

"You've been making the rest of us look bad, Blake," Gilda said, drawing one of the swords from across her back. "Or … wait, no, that sounds really petty; I'll rephrase it."

Ilia didn't wait for her to do so. Her skin had turned an angry red, a red like lava flowing down the mountainside, as she knelt down in front of Blake. "Tell me that it's not true," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Tell me that this is all part of some scheme, a plan that not even the High Leader knows about, tell me that you're infiltrating the citadel of our enemies in order to destroy them, tell me … tell me that you're not with them. Tell me, and I'll believe you, because I want to believe."

"I can't do that," Blake said softly. "But Ilia—"

She was interrupted by Ilia's fist connecting with her left cheek, twisting her face aside as the blow smarted through her aura. Blake winced at the pain she felt even through her shield.

"I trusted you!" Ilia yelled, rising to her feet. "I looked up to you, I followed your lead, I … I bared my soul to you!" She began to pace up and down, before turning to deliver a savage kick into Blake's side.

Blake groaned as she was rolled onto her side, twisting her body as best she could in Trifa's threads to curl up for protection.

"Watch it!" Trifa cried. "If you keep doing that, you're going to snap the cord, and she'll get out!"

Ilia didn't respond to Trifa; her attention was all upon Blake. "If you had, if anyone had asked me if I thought that you would ever, ever betray us like this, then I would have said 'never.' I would have told them that there was no way that Blake Belladonna would ever turn her back on the cause, she wasn't a faintheart and a coward like her parents, Blake was brave and true, Blake was the best of us!" For a moment, it seemed that Ilia would kick her again, but she restrained herself. "I … how could you do this to me, to all of us?"

"I'm doing what I think is best," Blake said. "What I think is right. The Atlesians are not our enemies—"

"The Atlesians killed my parents!" Ilia snarled. "The Atlesians bury us under rock and stone, they brand our flesh with their corporate logos, they laugh at us and spit on us and treat us worse than the animals they say we are! Don't tell me that the Atlesians are not our enemies! You think that you know Atlas, why, because you've been there for a holiday? Because you exposed a couple of corrupt officials who will get replaced with people just as bad, if they haven't been already? What do you know of the mines where we die in darkness, of the refineries and factories where faunus children crawl about under the machines, of Ladywood and the streets of Mantle, what do you know of any of it?"

"I've seen Mantle," Blake said.

"For how long?" Ilia asked. "A day or two? Talk to me when you've lived there for years."

"I know that Atlas isn't perfect," Blake said. "But there is more to gain from—"

"Enough yammering!" Gilda snapped. "Ilia, we're not here to debate Blake; we're here to … you know what we're here for."

"Then say it," Blake said.

Gilda sucked in a breath, her lips curling over her teeth. "We're here to kill you," she said. "So you can either drop your aura, and I promise that I'll make it quick, for old times’ sake." She licked her lips. "Or you can keep your aura up, and I'll have Woundwort work you over until your aura breaks, and he'll keep working you over afterwards, which might not be so much fun."

"Hmm, I can imagine," Blake murmured. "But as tempting as it is to let you do me a favour for old times’ sake — thanks a lot, by the way; I really appreciate the offer — I think I'll try and hold out until help arrives."

Ilia snorted. "You think anyone's coming to rescue you? You think that your precious Atlas will risk any human lives to save General Ironwood's lapcat?"

"They might," Gilda admitted. "Dashie would come, if she knew you were here, but she doesn't, because you're bluffing. You didn't tell anyone what you were doing before you followed Ilia because you're the kind of person who leaps before she looks; you always have been."

"Is that what you think?" Blake replied, fighting the temptation to smirk. "Is that what you're counting on?"

"Blake?" Applejack called out, her voice muffled by at least one door but at the same time unmistakable. "Blake? You hear me?"

"Applejack, I'm down here, there are se—mmph!" Blake's cry was stifled by Ilia covering her mouth with one black-gloved hand.

Gilda drew her other sword. "Trifa, get away from the door. Yuma, carry Blake. Rill, Woundwort, on either side of the door."

"But it's locked," Rill pointed out as the bat faunus — Yuma, evidently — scooped Blake up in his arms and bore her towards the side of the room, even as Trifa leapt out of the janitor's basket and scooted over along with them.

"If that's the Applejack I think it is, then—" Gilda was cut off by a tremendous crashing sound as Applejack burst through the locked door, the metal shattering into fragments before her fist.

Applejack had one fist outstretched as she soared through the shards of metal doorway that fell clattering to the ground all around her. Her teeth were gritted, her green eyes darted around the room, her rifle was in her other hand.

Barely had her booted toe touched the floor than she was turning, spinning in place like a dancer as she shouldered One in a Thousand and snapped a shot off at Yuma.

The shot went over Blake's bound form and struck Yuma in the chest. He was knocked backwards, dropping Blake in the process, but Applejack might have done better to have shoot Trifa instead, then maybe Blake could have gotten out of this web. It wasn't Applejack's fault — she wasn't to know, and she was trying her best — but nevertheless, it was a little bit irritating as Blake felt herself dumped to the floor with a thud that bruised her aura, and she still couldn't escape from Trifa's threads, for all that she wriggled and writhed and wished that she could do something to help Applejack instead of just watching as she fought.

Rill attacked first, a knife in one hand, thrusting it for Applejack's face. Applejack parried the blade with the stock of her rifle before reversing the weapon to brain Rill on the side of the head with the butt. The otter faunus staggered sideways, hitting the wall beside him heavily, before Applejack hit him again, slamming the butt of One in a Thousand right between his eyes hard enough to knock him backwards into the janitor's cart, in amongst the garbage that Trifa hadn't already displaced when she ambushed Blake, and the the cart itself spinning backwards, wheels rotating wildly, careening off the walls and heading straight for Blake.

Trifa caught and stopped the trolley before it hit Blake, for which she was grateful even as she realised that Trifa was only doing it to protect the cord that bound them together and held Blake a helpless captive.

Woundwort grabbed Applejack from behind. His weapons, the only weapons that Blake had ever seen him use, were pair of heavy leather gauntlets with claws attached to the fingertips that he called his Rabbit Paws, but he didn't bother to use the claws now, just his meaty hands and those arms that were the size of tree trunks and corded with muscle. Applejack had started turning, but Woundwort had grabbed her before she could, wrapping one arm around her neck, grabbing one of her arms with his free hand to try and wrench her rifle from her grasp, lifting her up off the floor so that her cowboy boots kicked at the air.

"Somebody hit her!" Woundwort snarled as Applejack squirmed and writhed in his grasp.

Gilda advanced, swords drawn back, but Applejack kicked her in the chest and sent her staggering backwards into the rubbish and the spilled cold coffee. Then Applejack kicked backwards, lashing out with her legs in all directions, sometimes hitting nothing at all, other times getting Woundwort on the legs or the knees. With the arm that he wasn't, couldn't, grab hold of, she drove her elbow back time and again, slamming it into his gut. Woundwort's grip lessened, and Applejack slipped free, landing nimbly on the floor.

Gilda rushed her, swords gleaming even under the artificial lights of this room, leading with one wide slashing stroke and then following up with a second. Applejack caught the first stroke on the stock of her rifle then leapt away from the second, rolling away and letting the blade pass harmlessly over her hat before rising up to kick the ape faunus so hard she flew into the wall with a manner that was casual to the point it verged on contemptuous.

Gilda charged her again, wings unfurled, even as Woundwort tried to work his way around her side. Gilda hurled herself on Applejack like a storm, her blades flying furiously as Gilda slashed and thrust. Applejack parried, giving ground, letting the blades slam into the wood of her rifle, bending backwards as the blade came too close, retreating in the face of Gilda's fury before the opportunity opened up to counterattack as the distance closed between them, throwing herself forward and taking one hand off One in a Thousand to ram her fist into Gilda's stomach. The air rushed out of Gilda with a gasping sound as she doubled over, her wings starting to fold protectively around her.

Applejack turned to face Woundwort, using her rifle to block his first slash before lashing out with her foot to strike his ankle.

Gilda growled as she straightened up, teeth bared, perhaps recovering more quickly than Applejack had expected.

And Ilia — they had both forgotten about Ilia.

"Applejack, look out!" Blake yelled.

As Woundwort's leg threatened to buckle beneath him, Ilia attacked, dashing forward with Lightning Lash — a metallic whip, segments of metal with the joints between them glowing with the pale yellow of lightning dust — drawn back. Applejack turned, but Ilia was smaller and more nimble, and it was her turn to dodge the swing of Applejack's clubbed rifle, ducking beneath the blow before lashing out with her whip to strike Applejack square on the chest.

Applejack mewled in pain, her body contorting as the lightning rippled up and down her body. Her grip on One in a Thousand seemed to loosen, though she did not quite drop it.

Gilda surged forward, unleashing her semblance, Swallow Strike. It was not, as even Gilda would admit, the greatest semblance ever. In strict utility terms, it paled in comparison to Applejack's super strength. But in this moment, with Applejack's back exposed to her, the ability to land three hits practically at once was good enough.

Gilda's swords barely seemed to move. There were a succession of flashes in the air, a certain momentary blurriness around the blades themselves, and then Applejack cried out, back arching.

There was a malicious grin on Ilia's face as she delivered a spinning kick up towards Applejack's jaw that sent her flying straight towards Woundwort, who slashed furiously at her with his Paws, slicing into her aura.

Applejack seemed to hang suspended in the air as Gilda's wings bore her up behind her to slash at her back, first with one sword, then the other.

Applejack hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, face down, arms spread out. Woundwort barely let her settle there before he grabbed her by the head, crushing her stetson in his giant hand, and slammed her face into the floor, once, twice—

"Stop it!" Blake yelled. "Leave her alone!"

Ilia flicked her wrist, and Lightning Lash flickered out again, and again, the lightning snapped and crackled like dogs as it rippled up and down Applejack's body, nipping her, biting at her, tearing at her aura until the green light of her breaking aura also rippled up and down her body. Then Applejack cried out in real pain, and when Woundwort hammered her face into the floor one last time, there was a sickening crunching sound.

And there was blood on Applejack's face when she flopped over onto her back.

"Stop!" Blake cried. "Please, you can kill me if you want to, I'll lower my aura and make it easy, but please, let her go! She's nothing to do with this!"

"She made herself a part of this," Ilia growled.

"Ilia's right," Gilda said, even as she sheathed one of her swords. She stood astride Applejack, legs spread out on either side of her, looking down at the prone girl beneath her. "I didn't want to see you die in Mountain Glenn, because it didn't sit right with me to just kill a pair of helpless captives who'd just accidentally wandered into all this, especially when one of you was just a girl, no fighter at all. But you came in here, and you picked this fight. You get that there's a difference, don't you?"

Applejack groaned. "Does it matter if Ah do or don't?"

"Not really," Gilda admitted. "I just want you to know that there's nothing personal. Although … I can't say I ever liked you very much."

Applejack's smile was bloody as she grinned. "Feelin's mutual."

"Don't do this," Blake pleaded. "Please, she has a family."

"So did I," Ilia said.

Blake's eyes widened as Gilda raised her sword, point downwards for a fatal thrust. No, no, this couldn't happen; she couldn't let Applejack die for her sake, couldn't let Apple Bloom lose a sister, not for her, not for Blake Belladonna, no, no, she couldn't let this happen.

And yet, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The doors at the back of the room, the doors through which all of the White Fang bar Trifa had come in, burst open as the room was lit up by a pair of rainbows.

One Foot and Twenty Pounds (New)

One Foot and Twenty Pounds

Rainbow sat down, stretching a little as she settled into the seat. She twisted her body just a bit, swaying first one way and then the other, as she contemplated the wait.

It wasn't as if her aura needed time to recharge, after all.

But she could use the opportunity to plan for the next match.

Pyrrha, Weiss, or Umber. All of them would be tough opponents, each one presenting their own challenges.

Pyrrha, of course, she had fought already — and lost to her, the same way that everyone else had lost to her in tournaments, or elsewhere. But, while Pyrrha had beaten her, she had also shown Rainbow a lot of what was in her box of tricks — Rainbow wouldn't be caught off guard by that stunt with the aura in her legs a second time. But, as she'd just shown in her fight with Arslan, just because you thought you had seen everything that she had, that didn't mean she hadn't added something new.

Although, really, the worst thing about fighting Pyrrha was that she didn't really have any gimmicks. Rainbow meant no offence to Weiss, whom she liked, but her semblance was like, seventy or eighty percent of what she had, which was fine for her because her semblance was a magic box with more goodies stuffed away in there than Trixie had stuffed in her hat, but it meant that beating her was, in theory, mostly a matter of beating her semblance. Umber, of course, would have been cooked in her fight against Yang if she hadn't had that one specific semblance that let her turn the game.

But Pyrrha … when she used her semblance, it was annoying, sure, but she didn't need to use it that much, and she could fight perfectly well without it because, at heart, that was what she was: a perfectly good stand-up fighter. In which case, fighting her at range probably remained Rainbow's best bet. It wasn't that Pyrrha didn't have any ranged options — she wasn't as limited that way as a lot of other Mistralians — but she didn't have a lot of rounds in her rifle, and as for throwing her shield or her spear … weapons could suffer ring-out just like competitors could. If Rainbow could get Pyrrha to disarm herself, then—

"You look like you're thinking about stuff," Sun observed as he sat down beside her.

"It happens," Rainbow replied.

"She's thinking about the next matches," Weiss said as she approached from Rainbow's other side, her left. "Aren't you?"

Rainbow looked up at her, one of the few moments she had cause to look up at Weiss Schnee. "Hey, Weiss," she said. "Not with your team?"

Weiss smiled. "Perhaps I'm here to distract you before you can work out how to defeat me?" She chuckled. "It would be in my interest, since I already know how to defeat you."

"Is that so?" Rainbow replied.

"Yes, it is, as you may find out before too long," Weiss said lightly. "But no, it's more that my team and I have exhausted the subject, and so I thought I'd come over here and pick your brains on—"

"Umber Gorgoneion?" Rainbow guessed.

"Quite. Rather a dark horse, isn't she?" Weiss asked.

"I thought Yang would make it to the semi-finals for sure," Sun said.

"So was I; in fact, I was looking forward to it," Weiss murmured. She paused a moment. "I must say that I'm surprised to see you here sitting so casually with the person who just beat you so handily."

"Eh, at the end of the day, it's just a tournament," Sun said. "It's not really worth getting upset about."

"'Just a tournament'?" Weiss repeated. "So the prestige, the glory, the recognition, it all means nothing to you?"

"It's fun enough, I guess," Sun said. "But I don't need it."

"Then why did you bother?" Weiss muttered.

"I don't know, I think Sun's got kinda the right idea," Rainbow said. "I mean, I think while you're in it, you should take it seriously, but I'm not going to hold a grudge if you beat me."

The corners of Weiss' lips twitched. "Thank you for conceding I might," she said softly. "And I suppose … yes, I wouldn't want this to affect our friendship." She paused. "So, in the spirit of our friendship, do you have any ideas on how to deal with that semblance of Umber's?"

Rainbow tapped her fingers on her knees. “I’m hoping that my goggles will stop her semblance from affecting me the same way that her sunglasses stopped it until she took them off,” she said. “I’ve always got a pair of sunglasses around here somewhere, and they're darker, so I might try them as well.”

“Not a lot to go on,” Weiss observed.

“No, we don’t have a lot to go on,” Rainbow replied. “Don’t you have a glyph that … obscures the view between you and someone else?”

“Sadly not,” Weiss muttered. “I have many glyphs, but not one for that.” She paused. “I don’t suppose you’ve considered—?”

She was interrupted by Rainbow’s scroll going off — and by the fact that it was playing an Atlesian military march, Rainbow knew that it was General Ironwood calling.

“Hang on a second; this could be important,” Rainbow said, half-standing up in her seat and getting her scroll out of her pocket. She stood up all the way before she answered. “Yes, sir?”

“Dash,” General Ironwood said, “have you heard from Belladonna?”

Rainbow blinked. “No, sir, is something up?”

“She didn’t call you before she rushed in, then,” General Ironwood replied. “Obviously, she thought it was duty done when she informed me.”

Rainbow felt a faint tingling on the back of her neck at the General’s use of the phrase ‘rushed in.’ “What’s going on, sir?”

“Belladonna informed me that she spotted a White Fang agent on the Colosseum,” General Ironwood said.

“The White Fang!” Sun exclaimed. “Here?”

“Who is that?” General Ironwood asked.

“Oh, that’s Sun Wukong, sir, Haven student; he’s…” Rainbow hesitated, because introducing the General to Blake’s boyfriend was something that she could do, but it would be so embarrassing that she’d really rather not if she could avoid it. Even saying the word to General Ironwood would just feel weird. If anyone was going to introduce Blake’s boyfriend to the General, then it should be Blake herself. “He’s been a big help sometimes. I mentioned him in my report on the Cold Harbour mission, the…” Rainbow hesitated; she’d kind of sugared over Sun’s part in the Cold Harbour mission. She hadn’t lied to the General, exactly, but saying ‘He volunteered to assist in our operation, which I accepted on the basis of his experience with the White Fang’ sounded a lot better for Sun than ‘he stowed away because he couldn’t stay away from Blake.’ She decided that it was best not to say anymore on that topic, and so elided over the subject. “Weiss Schnee is here as well, sir; was Blake sure that it was the White Fang?”

“Were they wearing the mask?” asked Sun.

General Ironwood ignored him, saying, “Belladonna claimed she recognised them. She might be mistaken, but I’ve got no choice but to act as though she’s correct.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Belladonna lost sight of them in the interior of the arena, but I’ve given orders to start a search. Belladonna intended to join that search.”

“Alone?” Rainbow said. Come on, Blake!

I suppose I should be grateful you called the General first, but … come on, learn a little faster.

“I’ve ordered Team Funky to make their way to her and support her,” General Ironwood replied. He paused for a very brief moment. “I could tell you to stand back, since we’ve got this without you, and it won’t do the morale of Atlas a lot of good if our last Vytal contestant gets incapacitated by the White Fang. But if I did, you wouldn’t listen to me, would you?”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t,” Rainbow said. “But then, you wouldn’t give me an order like that anyway, would you, sir?”

From the screen of Rainbow’s scroll, General Ironwood almost smiled. “Join Team Funky; support Belladonna.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said, and her thumb was already moving to hang up before General Ironwood hung up on her. As Rainbow put her scroll away, she was already looking around. Don’t have already gone. No, they hadn’t; she could see Team FNKI about to leave the stands, but they hadn’t actually left just yet. “NEON!” Rainbow bellowed to get the attention of her fellow students. “Come here a second!”

“I’m coming with you,” Sun said, leaping to his feet.

“And so am I,” added Weiss, also rising.

“Sun, you can go with the rest of Team Funky,” Rainbow said. “Weiss, you should stay here with witnesses — maybe shuffle over a little closer to the Haven teams — in case you’re the target.”

“I … I’m the target?” Weiss repeated. “You think the White Fang took the risk of trying to launch an attack here of all places just to … what? Assassinate me? Kidnap me?”

“If they wanted to kidnap you, they’d probably try it somewhere easier than this, but if they wanted to kill you, this would be dramatic,” Rainbow replied. “I mean, what with this whole thing with the SDC … a lot of faunus don’t like you; imagine how the White Fang must feel. What if this is all some big ploy to lure you somewhere they can get at you? It’s better if you wait here.”

“I’m not a coward,” Weiss declared, raising her chin as she managed to … not exactly look down at Rainbow Dash, but certainly to look as though she wasn’t looking up at Rainbow Dash even though she technically was. “And I’m not afraid of the White Fang.”

“I know,” Rainbow said. “I know both of those, but if this is some kind of a trap for you, then maybe best not walk into it.”

“What’s up, Dash?” Neon asked, as she skidded along the row of seats behind the three of them. “I can’t talk long; we’ve gotta—”

“I know,” Rainbow said. “Blake, White Fang, backup; the General told me. Listen, where are you headed?”

“Corridor Seven,” Neon said.

“Right, that’s … on the other side of the arena, right?” Rainbow said. “So here’s the plan: I want the rest of your team to take Sun with them, while you and I go on ahead; we’ll reach Blake faster. Cutting through the centre of the Colosseum, we’ll get there in no time.”

“That was what we were thinking too, going through the underbelly,” Neon replied. “She should have waited for us to come around the promenade to join her.”

“Yeah, but you know Blake.”

“Not as well as you do, to take it like that,” Neon said. “This must be a thing for you.”

“She’s getting better; at least she called the General first,” Rainbow said. “Now are you in?”

Neon grinned. “No, I’d rather slow-roll with my team and let you go off all by yourself just the same as Blake, of course I’m in, Dash; I’ve got your back. Both your backs. Unlike some people.”

There were times when Rainbow might have pushed back on that, but now wasn’t the time; they had work to do. “Whatever,” she said. “Glad to have you on board.”

Neon nodded; she looked past Rainbow Dash. “Glad to have you on board too, Sunny,” she added, before turning back to shout at Flynt and her other teammates. “Hey, guys, you’ve got a new honorary member for the day, so play nice. Also, I’ll be going on ahead with Dashie, so go on without me, and then I’ll laugh at you as we blow past in a burst of rainbows!”

“Go on, Sun,” Rainbow said.

“Yep!” Sun said, not needing to be told twice as he vaulted over the row of seats, and the one behind that, in order to run down the empty row and join the remainder of Team FNKI as they started down the stairs.

“And how about you, Miss Schnee?” Neon asked. “Didn’t feel like joining the party?”

Weiss folded her arms. “Apparently, I’m not welcome.”

“Awww,” Neon cooed in obviously fake sympathy. “Well, you may be from Atlas, but you aren’t from Atlas, if you know what I mean. Come on, Dash; let’s get this done before they need you for the semi-finals.”

She turned away, and already, there was a little bit of a rainbow behind her as she started for the staircase down out of the stands.

“This is for the best,” Rainbow assured Weiss as she squeezed past her, and then followed Neon, catching up swiftly.

“What’s it like being an ass on purpose all the time?” Rainbow asked.

“A lot of fun, actually,” Neon replied, as they started to descend the staircase, Neon gripping the bannister as she walked on the back of her roller skates, looking more like a waddling penguin than a cat. “It’s a whole lot more fun than being an ass by accident; maybe you should try it some time.”

“It’s tempting to start with you,” Rainbow muttered.

Neon laughed. “So, why do you think they’re here?”

“To kill Weiss, maybe?” Rainbow suggested. “It’d be a big deal. That’s why I wanted her to stay back.”

“I guess,” Neon murmured. “But it’s not a bomb, right? I mean, the General would have ordered the evacuation if he thought there was a bomb.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “I mean, apart from anything, they used all their dust on the last bomb, and I haven’t heard of them stealing any since.”

Neon chuckled. “Well remembered; that’s a good point.” They were almost at the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t want my mom or nana to see me get blown up on live television. Or Alain, for that matter.”

“Ciel’s brother? The one that needed that expensive treatment.”

Neon nodded. “He thinks that I’m some kind of hero. I don’t know who gave him that idea.” She smiled. “Losing to Weiss has probably dented my reputation already, but dying to a bomb would be even worse.”

She jumped down off the last stair. “You know where we’re going, right?”

Rainbow nodded. “We take the nearest service door, go straight through the service and maintenance corridors until we hit the central engine room, and then the exit for Corridor Seven will be marked.”

“Awesome,” Neon said. “Are you ready then?”

“Yep,” Rainbow said.

“Okay then,” Neon replied. “Race you there!” she shouted, as she took off, leaving Dash behind in her rainbow-coloured wake.

Rainbow growled. This is serious, Neon; Blake could use our help. But she supposed that Neon was being serious about getting there fast, whatever manner she was using to cover that up with, so she should probably stop complaining about Neon’s attitude and catch up with her.

Rainbow Dash started to run. Neon’s head-start, and the fact that she was rolling instead of running, gave her a little bit of an advantage, but Rainbow had always thought that her semblance was a little faster than Neon’s if she pushed it, and the way that she started gaining and gaining on Neon seemed to bear that out. They did pass Sun and the rest of Team FNKI, in short order, heading down the tunnel the opposite way to the way that they’d all gone earlier that day, heading away from the battlefield instead of towards it, heading towards the promenade that ran all around the edge of the Colosseum and the docking pads where the Skybuses arrived and departed — and where the private airships were docked as well. Maybe that was how the White Fang had gotten on board, on somebody’s private airship that they’d stolen. It would have been a lot less risky than trying to get on board a skybus from Beacon.

But that was for General Ironwood to worry about; Rainbow was sure that he would have someone check the airships, but that someone wasn’t her.

She — and Neon — didn’t even reach the promenade itself; instead, once they reached the first doorway into the maintenance corridors for the janitors, they opened it — since Atlas was providing security for the tournament, even Atlas students could open up these doors with their scrolls — and sped down it, turning down the first flight of steps that led them down into the bowels of the Colosseum.

They passed a combined work and break room for the janitors — disturbing a couple of them along the way, although neither stopped long enough to see what said janitors thought about a couple of rainbows blasting past them and out the other door — and on, past storage cupboards lining the walls, past service elevators, onwards and downwards into completely deserted parts of the Amity Arena.

The corridors were dark and deserted, and the only sound was the thrumming of the immense engines that kept this giant colosseum afloat in the skies over Beacon. Enormous cables ran over the walls and into the ceiling, and occasionally draped across the floor too so that Dash and Neon both had to leap over them to avoid tripping. The air was hot from all the power being generated, it belched out of vents set high and low, and though using her semblance didn’t tire Rainbow out at all, just being down here was making her sweat a little. Even the floor beneath her feet felt hot.

Before the festival, before the arena even left Atlas, this place they ran down would have been crawling with technicians checking every inch of this place, making sure that everything was working perfectly, no faults, no issues, nothing to get in the way of a great Vytal Tournament that everyone would remember.

Now, they were all gone; there was only a skeleton support staff in the field just in case something major did happen, and so, the corridors were empty, with nothing and nobody — bar the cables — to get in the way of Rainbow and Neon as they sped through the corridors on their way to the central engine room.

They arrived at one of the upper levels of the spacious engine chamber, above the central core of the engines itself, the dust reactor that sat somewhere below them, invisible in the darkness, but able to see the huge metal spheres of the sub-reactors, glowing as they powered some of the subsystems like the terrain or the cameras or the hard-light barriers that protected the crowds.

Enormous cooling rods stuck out of the reactors, some of them sliding in, some of them rising out, guided by computers monitoring everything that was going on down here.

Rainbow and Neon had reached a walkway running in a ring around a huge hole going down towards the bottom of the arena; there were corridors running off that ring like it was, shape aside, the hub of a wheel and they were the spokes.

One of them was helpfully marked where they needed to go.

So they kept running, heading upwards now.

“How’s your aura?” Rainbow asked as they sped on, conscious that Neon had taken some hits in her match with Weiss, and then using her semblance like this.

“I’ll be fine,” Neon assured her. “What would I be saving it for if I sat this out?”

They kept going, getting closer and closer but seeing no sign of Blake, so obviously, she wasn’t moving as fast as they were. Maybe they’d get all the way out and find her waiting after all.

Maybe she’d gone somewhere else and they’d have to hope for reception in the depths of the Colosseum.

Or maybe, as a door slid open in front of them to reveal another of those janitors’ rooms, they would see Gilda, standing over Applejack with a sword raised in the air.

Gilda. Gilda here.

Gilda standing over Applejack with her sword raised.

Rainbow kicked off the ground, putting some of her aura into her legs — more of her aura than usual — for some extra speed, setting off the thunderous booming effect with a rainbow blast erupting behind her, which Rainbow would have thought was pretty cool if, you know, Applejack hadn’t been about to get stabbed.

As it was, the thing she thought was really cool was that it enabled her to close the distance between her and Gilda before Gilda could lower that sword of hers any further — and sock her on the jaw too, for good measure.

The look of shock and surprise on Gilda’s face was all too brief, turning to a look of pain as Rainbow’s fist impacted, and then to a look of nothing at all as she was hurled backwards in a spinning blur of discarded feathers to slam into the far wall so hard she put a dent in it.

Now it was Rainbow’s turn to plant her feet on either side of Applejack, standing protectively over her, hands balled into fists.

“Rainbow Dash!” Blake cried out, from … somewhere; Rainbow couldn’t see her from where she was standing and facing.

And she didn’t have time to look around either, as a pretty big rabbit faunus with one eye missing, muscles to spare, and a face that you really wouldn’t want to run into in Mantle on a dark night lunged at her, swiping at Rainbow Dash with the claws coming out of his gauntlets.

In ordinary circumstances, Rainbow might have given ground before him, let him miss, and then counterattack. Obviously, that wasn’t an option in the circumstances; she had to stay where she was and protect Applejack and so did just that, stayed where she was and let him hurl himself upon her, lips curled back to reveal several gaps where his teeth should have been. Rainbow raised her arms protectively as he slashed at her — faster than she’d expected him to be — those claws of his ripping into her aura. She didn’t flinch; if she flinched or turned away or did anything but take it, then taking it would be pointless.

He swiped and sliced and left himself wide open for Rainbow’s counter, enduring the blows as she drove one fist into his gut, then the other, snapping a kick at his thigh as fast as she could before resuming her protective stance over Applejack, then punching him again square in the stomach. His abs weren’t nearly as hard as Sun’s had been, but he hardly seemed to feel the first blow, although the second made him shudder, and the third sent him falling back.

Rainbow would have followed up, but she had to stay where she—

A knife flew at her face. Rainbow twisted at the waist and caught it nimbly in one hand as an otter faunus with a tail coming out of the back of his red pants lunged at her with a short sword held in one hand.

His charge was interrupted when a bat faunus with leather wings sprouting out of his back was thrown at the otter faunus from the other side of the room. Unfortunately, it didn’t actually hit the otter faunus — he nimbly avoided the living missile, rolling in mid-air to let the bat faunus pass over his head and hit the wall face-first — but it did disrupt the momentum of his charge.

“Right,” Rainbow heard Neon say, for all that she couldn’t see where she was. “Your turn. Come here, you little insect. I can say that, you see, cause I’m a faunus, so it’s not racist.”

“I’m a spider faunus!”

“Fries, mashed potatoes, I’m still gonna step on you.”

The big rabbit faunus and the otter faunus attacked her together, closing in on her from the left and the right. Rainbow threw the otter’s knife at the rabbit faunus, who batted it aside as he came on.

The otter faunus made to lunge at her — and was interrupted a second time, this time by Blake attempting to catch him on the side of the head with a spinning kick. Again, he avoided it at the cost of his own momentum, rolling beneath Blake’s leg and away, scuttling back to safety.

Blake landed on the ground beside Rainbow Dash.

“Good to see you,” she said. “Applejack, are you—?”

“Ah’m fine, mostly, ‘cept for mah aura,” Applejack said from below. “Good to see you both, too.”

Gilda groaned as she picked herself up. “Great,” she muttered. “Just great. You’re both in one place.”

“They’re here for me,” Blake whispered to Rainbow Dash.

“Not just you,” Gilda grunted.

The White Fang squad squared off against them: the bat faunus who had been thrown earlier showed no sign of stirring, and there was no sign at all that Rainbow could see of the spider faunus that Neon had threatened to step on — unless that was the little tiny, skinny girl who Rainbow couldn’t tell what kind of faunus she was, just that she looked small enough to tread on if you weren’t careful — but that still left, aside from the small one who looked even smaller the way she was crouched down and trying to look inconspicuous, the big rabbit faunus, the otter faunus, and Gilda.

Four of them, against—

“Neon?” Rainbow called.

From somewhere behind, Rainbow heard Neon cry out in pain.

“Blake, go!” Rainbow snapped, and Blake went, without hesitation.

“Ilia, get the lights!” commanded Gilda.

Well, that’s not good. “Applejacktakemygun,” Rainbow yelled, her words running together as fast as Rainbow’s semblance as she wrenched Plain Awesome out of its holster and dropped it down to Applejack — even if she couldn’t make out what Rainbow had just said, she was handing Applejack a gun, that was pretty obvious, right? — right before she charged forwards.

Unlike some other faunus — like rabbits, otters, eagles, or whatever the shorty was — Rainbow couldn’t see in the dark, and sure, she had her goggles, but that didn’t change the fact that standing on the defence over Applejack wouldn’t look so smart once the lights went down and she couldn’t see who was coming at her.

Better if she could take out her enemies while she could still see them.

And it wasn’t like they’d waste their time on Applejack while she was still kicking, right?

It wasn’t like she’d give them the chance.

Rainbow closed the distance to the otter faunus in a rainbow blur; the enemy tried to dodge her the same way that he’d dodged that flying bat faunus, but Rainbow was just a little faster than that and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, carrying him backwards, drawing Brutal Honesty with her free hand and firing it into his gut all the while — though it wasn’t a long while, quite the opposite — before slamming him into the wall, pinning him there by an arm to his throat.

The other faunus, Gilda and the big rabbit guy, they seemed to be moving so slowly as Rainbow pistol whipped the otter faunus once, twice, and then his aura broke on the third blow.

One down.

Rainbow threw the otter faunus at Gilda as she rounded on the big rabbit faunus with the claws in his gloves, emptying the last rounds in Brutal Honesty’s magazine into him — he was too big a target to miss, not to mention he didn’t really have anything to block the bullets with — before she charged him next. She had to make this quick; Applejack was trying to shoot at the whatever-she-was, but she was still getting closer to that damn light switch.

Rainbow needed to wrap this up; thankfully, it seemed like Applejack had already softened up these guys.

She went low, coming in under the slashing claws, which were moving too slowly for her anyway, much too slow, moving like Sun had moved during their fight. She could have just bulled into him, but he was so big that he might actually stop her in her tracks, semblance or not. So instead, once she was underneath his guard, she leapt up, headbutting him on her way up before kicking off his chest, putting about a fifth of her aura into it — worth it, to get him out of the way — so that he flew into the storage closet, completely smashing it, cleaning products and coffee powder from smashed and burst containers mingling on his face and body as he lay there, still and silent, amongst the ruins.

Rainbow spun on her heel as she landed, turning nimbly to face Gilda, fists raised.

And then the lights went out.

The room was plunged into darkness.

Rainbow cursed inwardly as she swung for where Gilda had been when she’d last seen her, stepping forward to deliver a one-two punch combo into the empty air.

Rainbow started to reach for her goggles, to pull them down over her eyes—

She felt the sword strike her side, slice through her aura, but she didn’t flinch, she didn’t let herself flinch, she had to be like northern ice, which took the scratches but didn’t go anywhere.

She felt the second blow slam into the backs of her knees, and Rainbow wobbled, half falling to the floor, her knees starting to fold up beneath her. She fought to stay upright, but she dipped low enough that she could feel Gilda’s hand on top of her head, through her hair, grabbing at her goggles!

Rainbow twisted, throwing out a punch that she felt connect with something; she heard Gilda grunt in pain and frustration, felt Gilda smack her on the side of the head with the flat of her blade, and for a stupid second, it was like the two of them were kids again, grappling on the floor of Gilda’s bedroom, or Rainbow’s, waiting for one of their parents to come and tell them to knock it off.

Except that wasn’t going to happen this time.

Rainbow threw another punch, ready to pack some of her remaining aura into it this time, but she hit only the air as Gilda retreated, having wrenched Rainbow’s goggles from off the top of her head as she went.

All Rainbow got for her abortive punch was a tap on the knuckles from Gilda’s sword.

Rainbow looked around, for all that that was going to do her any good; she couldn’t even see vague shapes in here, not even the glint of light — of course not, there was no light — on Gilda’s blades.

She would just hope to be fast enough that she could hit back before Gilda could slip a—

She got the chance to test that almost at once as Gilda managed to land three hits on her so fast it was like she’d stolen Rainbow’s semblance, sword strikes landing more all at once than one after the other, coming in so hard that Rainbow wasn’t able to stop from staggering a little. That meant her counter came late, if it was even aimed in the right direction. She didn’t hit a thing.

Rainbow half turned, this way and then that, arms up, fists ready; she had to endure, it was her only chance.

She’d take being able to hear something at this point, but Gilda was as silent as an owl on a branch stalking a mouse.

And as for the other one.

The other one.

Rainbow felt something jab into her back a split second or less before she felt the lightning.

She could feel it through her aura even while she could feel it ripping at her aura. She could feel lit up and down her back, her legs, reaching around to her front, her neck, her face. She had to fight it, she had to stand strong, she had to grit her teeth through it all, she had to be like northern ice that would be here just the same when you were gone no matter how you scratched it.

She had to take advantage of the fact that the little girl had something jabbed into Rainbow’s back to swing around, despite the lightning, and backhand her across the face.

Actually, by the feel of something like a shoulder against her hand, Rainbow thought she might have aimed a little low.

Judging by the grunt of pain and the sound of something hitting the floor, it seemed to have knocked her sideways all the same.

Behind her, Rainbow heard the crash of blade on blade and guessed that Blake had finished saving Neon and decided to save her from Gilda next.

And to think, we came here to rescue you.

She was struck from out of the darkness, something long and thin lashing at her invisibly, striking her across the face. Rainbow shifted her stance, covering her face with her forearms as her feet shuffled on the floor. The same long, slender object — was that a whip the small girl had been holding onto, a segmented metal whip? — struck out at her again, hitting her on the stomach this time.

Rainbow didn’t know exactly how much aura she had left, but she knew — she was certain — that little pinpricks like that from out of the dark weren’t going to bring her down. She might not be able to see the girl to hit back, but she could endure it, if nothing else.

And then when Blake’s done with Gilda, then maybe she can rescue me again.

A third time, the metal whip lashed out at Rainbow Dash, hitting her on the arm — but this time, Rainbow’s hand lashed out as well, catching the slender metal line like an annoying fly buzzing around the room, fist closing around it.

Or maybe not.

A shock ran down the lash, briefly lighting it up with a yellow trail that ran all the way down the line to the girl holding the other end.

Her skin had turned as black as her outfit, as black as, well, as black as a room with the lights turned off and the doors shut on both sides, but that didn’t matter now that her own weapon was lighting her up.

And that was worth a shock that was, anyway, not nearly as bad as the last one she’d given Rainbow Dash.

And the widening of the girl’s eyes said that she knew it too.

Rainbow grinned as she sped forwards, moving as fast as her semblance would allow before the girl could retreat into the darkness and Rainbow lost her again. She didn’t even try; she went on the attack instead, hurling herself at Rainbow with a flying kick into the chest.

Rainbow felt it, but her momentum and her semblance both allowed her to plough on anyway, grabbing the White Fang girl and slamming her down, back first, into the floor.

The other girl grappled with Rainbow, wrapping her legs around Rainbow’s waist and trying to throw her sideways. Rainbow rolled with it, grabbing her opponent with both hands so that, as she rolled, she hoisted her up into the air and threw her over Rainbow and down onto the floor again.

The other girl winced, beating at Rainbow Dash with both fists. “Let go of me you … you traitor!”

“Nope,” Rainbow said as she kept one hand on the other girl even as she hit her with the other.

The White Fang girl growled in frustration. “Why?” she demanded, her skin turning a fiery red, lighting up in the darkness. “What do you have that I don’t?”

“One foot,” Rainbow suggested. “And twenty, maybe thirty pounds?” She hit her again, which was a lot easier now that she could see her.

Not that it mattered that much, because the doors opened, allowing light to stream in from the corridor beyond, at least where it wasn’t obscured by the silhouetted figures who stood in the doorway — and then the lights went on a second later.

It was the other three members of Team FNKI stood in the doorway, along with Sun.

The other combatants already in the room — at least the ones who were still standing, which was … only two of them — froze. Rainbow glanced quickly around the room. Neon was on the ground, arms spread out on either side of her, but she looked in better shape than the ape faunus lying in a crumped up heap against the wall nearby. Blake and Gilda were facing off against one another, each with two blades in their hands, space between them as they paused in the gap between the clash of swords.

And Rainbow Dash and her opponent were on the ground, locked together, trading blows like old-fashioned warships exchanging broadsides.

Gilda must have decided that enough was enough — a wise decision, to Rainbow’s mind — because she started for the other door.

The door which opened before she reached it, revealing Major Schnee and a squad of troopers.

Major Schnee drew her sabre with a flourish and pointed it at Gilda as the soldiers with her spread out from the doorway and levelled their rifles.

Gilda’s swords hit the ground with a clatter. Gilda sighed as she raised her arms up above her head.

“Well, crap,” she muttered.

The other girl also stopped struggling. Her arms relaxed, and her head lolled sideways to rest the side of her temple on the floor.

“Go on, then,” she whispered. “Kill me.” She glared at Rainbow. “Kill me like you killed my parents, you Atlas dog!”

“I’m an Atlas horse, actually,” Rainbow said, as she let go of the other girl and got to her feet. “And I’m not going to kill you, no one is. You’re under arrest.”

She looked at Gilda, standing still with her arms raised as the soldiers closed in around her.

“You’re both under arrest.”

For Cause and Comrades (New)

For Cause and Comrades

“Sir,” des Voeux said, “we’ve got First Councillor Emerald on the line.”

“That was quick,” Fitzjames muttered.

“It’s the Vytal Tournament, Fitzjames; everything is being reported live,” Ironwood said. “They’re probably liveblogging about prisoners being brought out as we speak. Des Voeux, put the First Councillor through.”

“Aye aye, sir,” replied des Vœux. “Putting him through now.”

“General Ironwood,” Councillor Emerald said at once, his voice filling the CIC of the Valiant. “The news is reporting some interesting developments aboard the Amity Colosseum. Developments that don’t have anything to do with the success or failure of the contestants.”

“Good morning, Councillor,” General Ironwood said. “Yes, my people have subdued and apprehended a group of White Fang agents. In the spirit of cooperation and the goodwill of the Vytal Festival, I was about to ask if Vale wished to take custody of the prisoners.”

There was a moment of pause. “Well, you know how to take the wind out of my sails, don’t you, General?” Councillor Emerald replied. “But may I ask how you caught these White Fang agents?”

From behind General Ironwood, Sky Beak coughed. “If I may speak, Councillor?”

“Colonel Sky Beak?” Councillor Emerald asked. “Yes, of course you may.”

“Not long ago,” Sky Beak continued, “General Ironwood was contacted by Blake Belladonna, the … former Atlesian mole in the White Fang. She had spotted one of her … a former member of the White Fang amongst the crowd in the Colosseum. General Ironwood, acting in his capacity as head of security for the Vytal Festival, acted swiftly to organise a search for this terrorist and any of their comrades, culminating in, as you know, their capture.”

Again, Councillor Emerald was quiet for a moment, processing the information that he had just received. “And you didn’t think that it was worth evacuating the Amity Arena, in case the White Fang wished to, to be blunt, blow it up?”

“We considered the possibility, but discounted that as their likely objective,” General Ironwood replied. “Based on Belladonna’s knowledge of the individual she had spotted, her capabilities, and the presence of a large number of faunus amongst the crowd, we judged that their intention was not to cause mass casualties.”

“That was a risk you took, General,” Councillor Emerald remarked.

“That’s what I get paid for, Councillor,” General Ironwood said.

“Yes,” Councillor Emerald murmured. “I suppose you do.” He raised his voice. “Do you think you’ve got them all? The White Fang, I mean.”

“We believe so,” General Ironwood said. “Although, of course, the search of the Colosseum interior is ongoing in case there are any holdouts. But that search won’t disrupt the resumption of the matches, and I don’t anticipate any more trouble from the White Fang today.”

Although I didn’t expect any today.

“I must admit you make it very hard to be angry with you, General,” Councillor Emerald declared candidly. “Your people appear to have done good work.” There was another pause. “The liveblog of the Alexandria Guardian reports that medical personnel have been spotted on the promenade, although they’ve been kept back by Atlesian soldiers from getting a better look. Were any of your people—?”

“Two students, Neon Katt and Jacqueline Apple, suffered minor injuries, but nothing serious,” General Ironwood said. “They are being tended to, as are various of the White Fang, most of whom were injured to a greater or lesser extent in the course of their capture. They’ll be transported down to the ground in ambulances, although under guard. Only two of the terrorists are fit for a prison transport.”

“I’m surprised you don’t want to keep them for yourself,” Councillor Emerald said.

“If we’re being honest with one another, Councillor, I would like that,” General Ironwood admitted. “At least one of these people is not from Vale, or even a part of the Valish branch of the White Fang; I wouldn’t mind finding out … according to my people, the White Fang claimed that their mission was to assassinate Belladonna and another of my students, Rainbow Dash.”

“Your students?” Councillor Emerald said. “Blake Belladonna is a Beacon student, isn’t she?”

“She’s transferring to Atlas next year, Councillor,” General Ironwood said mildly.

“But not at the moment,” Councillor Emerald replied.

“I stand by what I said, Councillor,” General Ironwood said mildly.

Councillor Emerald snorted. “Very well, General, two of your students. Two of your students marked to be assassinated by the White Fang. Do you believe it? I would have thought that the White Fang had better things to do.”

“Belladonna and Dash did expose a slavery ring operated by rogue elements of the SDC recently,” General Ironwood said.

“Isn’t that reason to give them thanks, not a bullet?”

“I won’t pretend to know the White Fang mind, Councillor, and I won’t pretend to be sure that they’re telling the truth, although it would be an odd lie to tell, if they meant to lie. To get back on the subject, no, I wouldn’t mind having the White Fang in Atlesian custody, but as you’ve pointed out yourself, we won’t be staying here for much longer, and although the Valish Council has graciously requested the assistance of Atlas in securing the Vytal Festival, nevertheless, the law in Vale is Valish responsibility.”

“Yes, yes, it is,” Councillor Emerald said. “But, in the spirit of goodwill amongst kingdoms, the spirit of the Vytal Festival, I am prepared to … offer Atlas a seat at the table in this matter. Joint investigation. When your forces depart, you can leave a team behind to work with the Valish police, interrogate these terrorists, learn what their real intentions were.”

General Ironwood’s eyebrows rose. “That’s very generous, Councillor.”

“You’re making it quite hard to be churlish, General Ironwood, much as I should very much like to be,” Councillor Emerald said, in a tone so dry it was hard to tell if he was joking. “I’ll leave you to sort out the details, and you can talk to the Valish Police once you can spare it the attention. I’ll let them know to expect a call from you. In the meantime, I suppose I should let you get back to securing the tournament. Unless there’s anything else going on that I should know about?”

“Nothing that you’re not already aware of, Councillor,” General Ironwood said. “I think, in some areas, you might be even better informed than I am.”

“Really?” Councillor Emerald asked sceptically. “Colonel Sky Beak?”

“No developments that I’m aware of, Councillor, no, other than the issue that you’ve been made aware of by the press,” Sky Beak said. “I must say, Councillor, I’m surprised to learn you read the Alexandria Guardian. Isn’t it a bit liberal?”

“It likes to think it is, Colonel, but quite often, it’s actually rather sensible.” Councillor Emerald said. “And when it isn’t, it pays to know what the liberal fantasists are thinking. Plus, they’re about the only major news outlet that’s never been accused of hacking scrolls, a quality that I find myself appreciating today even more than I did before.”

“I see, Councillor,” Sky Beak said, without offering any further comment.

“Alright then, General Ironwood, that’s all,” Councillor Emerald. “Except, please pass my congratulations and the thanks of Vale onto your people.”

“How are you doing, Neon?” Rainbow asked.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” Neon said, in spite of the fact that she was holding an ice pack against her left temple. With her other hand, she waved away any and all concerns about her health and wellbeing. “They said that I might have a concussion, but honestly, I feel fine; they barely got me at all.”

“When we were on our way, you told me that your aura was fine,” Rainbow pointed out.

“And I said that I wasn’t saving it for anything,” Neon replied. “Come on, Dashie, you saw my fight with Weiss Schnee; you knew I wasn’t starting off with my aura intact.”

“I asked you—”

“And if I’d told you that I didn’t have that much of it left, then what, you would have left me behind?” Neon demanded. “Flynt wasn’t going to leave me behind.”

“Flynt wasn’t going to send you out in front either,” Rainbow pointed out.

“And so, what?” Neon went on. “You would have gone on by yourself? Rescued Blake and Applejack all on your own?” She grinned. “I didn’t know you were that desperate for the glory.”

“You know that’s not what this is about!” Rainbow snapped.

“No, I know it’s not,” Neon admitted. “But Blake needed help, and you needed backup, and I wasn’t going to just sit on my tail while there was a fellow Atlesian who needed my help.” She sighed. “I appreciate your concern, Rainbow, but I’ve already got a mom back in Mantle; I don’t need another one.” She smiled. “For that matter, I’ve already got my allotted responsible friend, so I don’t need another one of those either.”

Rainbow’s jaw tightened. “You could have … ended up in a lot worse shape than this.”

“But I didn’t,” Neon said. “Thanks to you, Blake.”

“You would have done the same for me,” Blake said. “You did do the same for me; you came to rescue me.”

“And then you ended up rescuing me,” Neon muttered. “Funny how that works out.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to work out,” Rainbow said. “We look out for one another. You rescue Blake, I rescue Applejack, Blake rescues you … Blake rescues me, too.”

Blake’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I didn’t—”

“You got Gilda off me, meant that I only had the little one to worry about,” Rainbow reminded her.

Blake looked away, her ears drooping a little into her wild black hair. “Ilia,” she whispered. “Her name is Ilia.”

“You say that name like a country song,” Applejack grunted. “Old friend of yours?”

“You … you could say that,” Blake admitted.

The four of them stood — actually, Blake and Rainbow Dash stood; Applejack and Neon were sitting down — in the middle of a circle of Atlesian soldiers, keeping the crowd and, maybe more importantly, the Valish press at bay.

Medics had finished looking over Neon, and just finished looking over Applejack as well. Neon, in addition to the ice pack she was holding up to her temple, had some ripe-looking bruises on her arms where the ape faunus had pounded on her, although as quickly as they’d sprouted, those bruises would probably fade again once her aura started to come back. Applejack had a broken nose that had been reset by one of the medics and a missing tooth that was noticeable when she opened her mouth but which … to be honest, it kind of suited her country style. Maybe. Rarity would know better than Rainbow Dash whether that was actually true or just really stupid. She also had some bruises on her face around her nose and — although you couldn’t see them anymore, Rainbow had seen them when the medics were examining Applejack — some lightning scars on her torso. Hopefully, they’d fade, too.

“You wanna talk about it, Sugarcube?” Applejack asked.

Blake looked at her. “You got hurt trying to save me, you and Neon, but you want to talk about my feelings.”

Applejack shrugged. “If you want to. You don’t owe us nothin’.”

“I’m sure that’s the opposite of true,” Blake replied.

“No, she’s right,” Neon said. “Tell her, Dashie. I mean, if you want to take me out for a drink sometime, or a nice meal, then I won’t say no—”

Blake rolled her eyes. “I’m serious.”

“Okay, seriously, it’s like Applejack said, you don’t owe us a damn thing,” Neon said. “We’re all in this together, and we look out for another. It’s … it’s just what we do. So don’t feel guilty about me, don’t feel guilty about Applejack, and don’t feel obliged to either of us.” She paused. “Of course, we don’t owe you anything either, I hope you understand that.”

Blake managed a slight smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand. That’s … fine by me.”

“Then do you want to talk about it?” asked Applejack.

Blake sighed. “What’s there to say?” she asked. “Ilia and I were in Mistral together, and … I thought that we were close. I think that she thought we were close too. She told me things that I’m not sure that she told a lot of people.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Rainbow chuckled. “Honestly? There are times when I try to forget the way that we first met.”

“I told you about an old friend of mine, a Crystal Prep student,” Blake said. “The one who—”

“The one who passed for human and had to put up with a lot of grief from her so-called friends, until one day, she snapped and attacked them,” Rainbow finished. “That was her?”

Blake nodded.

“Huh,” Rainbow murmured. “She doesn’t look the type.”

“She don’t look angry, you mean?” asked Applejack.

“No, she doesn’t look like she could break anyone’s teeth,” Rainbow replied.

“Appearances can be deceptive,” Neon said. “I mean: look at me.”

“I thought that we were friends, and then she tried to kill me,” Blake went on. “Or perhaps she tried to kill me because we were friends.”

“Not to burst your ego or nothin’, Sugarcube,” Applejack said. “But Ah’m pretty sure that she tried to kill ya because someone ordered her to.”

“Yeah, I mean I never met her before, but she tried to kill me too,” Rainbow pointed out. “Not that…” She put a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Not that that makes it easier, I know.”

Ilia might not have used to be my friend, but Gilda did.

“The thing you have to remember,” Rainbow went on, “is that it’s not your fault. They didn’t try and kill us, your friend didn’t try and kill you because of … because of who you are. It’s because of the cause. The cause you’ve found, the cause they have. After all, they’ve got their reasons for fighting, the same as us, and they … make us collide with one another, like waves, or like ships on the waves, or … something like that.”

“You’re right,” Blake said. “I’m sure you’re right, but at the same time … before Applejack arrived, Ilia really was upset with me personally. And yes, it was to do with the cause, but also … it was like I’d betrayed her personally with my choice of cause, by abandoning the White Fang but even more by joining Atlas.”

“Gilda felt the same way,” Rainbow said. “But what are you gonna do? What could you have done that wouldn’t have made her feel like that? Not joined Atlas?”

Blake made a wordless noise. “What’s going to happen to them next?”

“They’ll be locked up somewhere, for a start,” Rainbow said. “Either on one of our ships or in Vale, I’m not sure.”

Blake looked at Rainbow. “Do you think … do you think that I could see her, before she gets taken away?”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You … you want to talk to her?”

“I … I’d like to, yes,” Blake said. “If it’s possible. Is it possible?”

“It … might be,” Rainbow replied. “But why? She tried to kill you.”

“This isn’t about me,” Blake replied. “This is about Ilia.”

“Ilia who tried to kill you,” Rainbow reiterated.

“And Gilda tried to kill you; does that mean that you’re going to give up on her?” Blake asked.

“Gilda,” Rainbow said. “Gilda is … what do you mean, 'give up on her'?”

“I don’t want Ilia to go down the same road that Adam did,” Blake said. “And to the same end. She isn’t there yet, just like Gilda isn’t.”

“Ah mean,” Applejack broke in. “No offence, Sugarcube, but… well—”

“She’s not!” Blake insisted. “Yes, she tried to kill us, but we’re combatants. We were all fighting, we all had a fighting chance, she didn’t kill anyone who wasn’t actively engaged; as far as I know, she hasn’t … yet.”

“She’s not likely to get the chance in prison,” Neon pointed out.

“You’re right,” Blake murmured. “But that doesn’t mean that I … I don’t want to just … I mean, I know that I have to leave her behind, but that doesn’t mean that I…” She sighed. “I don’t know. It just feels wrong not to say something, to try and get her to understand, with what might be my last chance to say anything to her. I don’t want her trying to kill me and my friends to be our last interaction.”

“Ah ain’t so sure that she’ll see you talkin’ to her right before she goes away for a spell to be much of an improvement, no offence,” Applejack observed.

Blake winced. “You’re probably right. You are right. It was a stupid idea.”

“No, no, it … maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a bad idea,” Rainbow said. “And it doesn’t mean that we can’t see about making it happen. Just let me take Applejack back to the box—”

Applejack waved one hand. “Don’t worry about me; don’t hold back on mah account, Ah’ll be fine.”

“Your face says different,” Rainbow said.

“Well then Ah’ll stay right here until you’re finished,” Applejack said.

“I’ll get Ivori and Kobalt to carry you, if you like,” Neon said. “I’m sure they’re in shouting distance.”

But before Neon could shout for either of them — or before Applejack could say whether or not she actually wanted their help — Rainbow and the others could hear other voices from outside the protective circle of Atlesian troops.

“Excuse me,” Pyrrha said, her voice unmistakable even before Rainbow spotted the top of her vibrant red ponytail swaying this way and that over the heads of the crowd. “Excuse me please, if we can just get through?”

The soldiers parted, admitting Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny into the circle, before they closed ranks once again on the rest of the crowd, excluding them from following.

“We heard something about a White Fang attack,” said Penny.

“I’m sorry that we weren’t around,” Pyrrha added. “I’m afraid that we were up talking to my mother, and then, well…”

“Are you okay?” Penny asked.

Rainbow opened her mouth to respond, to tell them that it was fine, that as much as their help might have been appreciated that it hadn’t been needed, that Atlas had taken care of its own and taken care of everything besides, and there was nothing whatsoever to worry about. That was what she intended to say when she opened her mouth, but before any words could fly out of that mouth, she was cut off by Neon.

“Oh, look who decided to show up!” Neon snapped, climbing to her feet. She swayed a little, despite her insistence then she was fine, but thankfully, she didn’t wobble too much, just a little bit, like a headrush or something. Hopefully. Her tail was rigid, stuck up behind her ramrod straight so that you probably couldn’t see it at all if you were stood in front of her. She was still holding the ice pack to her temple. “You missed the action, but now you want to show up with this, this ‘are you okay?’ like we’re supposed to pretend that you care or something?”

“Neon—” Rainbow said.

“No, Dash, don’t ‘Neon’ me in that tone,” Neon retorted, rounding on Rainbow Dash for a second. “This little madam has had this coming to her for a good long while, and I’m gonna let her have it with both barrels! I nearly got my head kicked in today,” she went on, even as she turned back towards Penny and the others, “but I don’t mind because I was doing it for Blake and Dashie, I was doing it for my Atlas comrades. I got the call, I heard that Blake needed help, and I went. Just like Dash went, just like the rest of my team went. Even though my aura hadn’t recovered from my fight this morning, I still went, because Blake and Dash would do the same for me, because they’ve got the Mettle, even Blake. Because that’s what comrades do.” Neon had her back turned to Rainbow by now, but Rainbow found that she could almost see the sneer on Neon’s face, if it was anything like the sneer that surged into her voice like an onrushing storm. “But you—”

“I didn’t know—” Penny began.

“Ooh, I wonder why that is!” Neon snapped. “You weren’t there because you were hanging around with your Beacon friends just like always, and you didn’t get the call because the General knows that you’re not reliable! You … you act like your life is so hard, like you are so put upon, as though everyone around you didn’t bend over backwards to make things easier for you, as though you don’t skip through life with everything falling your favour, as though you aren’t some pretty human girl from Atlas whose daddy pulled strings with the General to get you the best team assignment! You want to talk about a hard life, try growing up in Mantle with no dad at all!”

Neon’s voice trembled at that, and Rainbow found herself, without needing to think about it, taking a step towards her, hands out.

But Neon, though her whole body trembled along with her voice, wasn’t done yet. “You have never stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of us. You’re selfish and self-absorbed, and to put the helmet on it, you’ve upset Ciel. Now, you’re transferring to Beacon; that’s fine by me. You want out, then I say good riddance; Blake is ten times the Atlesian you ever were, and ten times the person you’ll ever be, so we’re getting the better deal by a long way, but now you want to show up when the fighting is over and act like you give a damn?” Neon snorted. “Piss off with that fake concern; it makes me want to throw up.”

She turned her back on Penny, and now that she was facing Rainbow again, Rainbow could see that she had tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Get out of my sight,” Neon growled, turning her head to look at Penny over her shoulder. “Or even though my aura hasn’t come back yet, I’ll still throw you off this arena.”

Pyrrha took a step forward, her mouth opening.

Penny put a hand on her arm. “I … I’m sorry to have bothered you,” she said, her voice calm, level. She turned away, from Neon and from the rest of them. “Excuse me, please,” she said softly, and again, the soldiers moved aside to let her out the same way that they had let her in just a second ago.

Pyrrha and Jaune remained.

“There were some White Fang, there was a fight, we took care of it, everything’s fine,” Rainbow said. “Go with her.”

Go see if she’s as alright as she seems; help her if she isn’t.

Pyrrha nodded silently before she and Jaune followed Penny back out of the ring of soldiers cordoning off the four of them.

Neon drew in a deep breath. “I’m not going to apologise,” she declared. “And don’t bother telling me that poor Penny has stuff going on that I don’t know about; we’ve all got problems, it doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to everyone.” She looked at Rainbow. “And drop your arms; I don’t need a hug.”

Rainbow dropped her arms, even as she said, “I wasn’t—”

“I didn’t bring that up for sympathy,” Neon insisted. “I just … like I said, we’ve all got stuff. It’s not a free pass.”

Rainbow didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure what there was to say, honestly. Yes, Penny really did have stuff going on that Neon wasn’t aware of, but Neon had made pretty clear that she didn’t care, and anyway, it wasn’t as though they could tell her what Penny’s stuff was, especially here. And if they had told her, then … what? Would it have made any difference to the way that Neon thought, to the way that she saw Penny? Maybe, but equally maybe not, considering.

“I … don’t necessarily agree with everything you said,” Blake murmured. “But at the same time, I feel as though I ought to thank you.”

Neon grinned. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t true.”

“You wanna come back with me?” asked Applejack. “Ah’m sure Ciel would appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be nice, thanks,” Neon said. “And as for you two,” — she shooed them off with her free hand — “go and evangelise to the White Fang before they get flown away. Go, go, quickly now.”

Rainbow and Blake both looked at Applejack.

“Ah already told you, Ah’ll be fine,” Applejack insisted. “Go on now, get.”

“Okay,” Blake said. “I’ll … see you both later.”

Most of the crowd, drawn by the excitement of something unknown but potentially exciting, had dispersed at this point, and so there were only a few people around as Blake and Rainbow Dash stepped out of the ring of soldiers. One of those people was Sun, whose tail wagged from side to side as he bounded up to them.

“Hey!” he said. “How are Neon and Applejack, are they—?”

“A little beaten up, but they should both be fine,” Blake said.

“Great,” Sun replied. “Listen, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help back there.” He paused for a second. “I don’t usually get the point of semblance envy, but I really wish that I had super speed right now.”

“I don’t need you to swoop in and rescue me,” Blake said, reaching out and brushing her fingers against his hand. She smiled with one corner of her mouth. “Although it’s nice that you wanted to.”

“Yeah, you looked as though you had things pretty well under control by the time we got there,” Sun admitted.

“We appreciated the backup, if only for persuading Gilda and Ilia to call it quits,” Blake said.

Sun nodded. “So … what happens now?”

“Now I’m going to go talk to Ilia,” Blake said. “And Gilda, I suppose.”

“The girl who just tried to kill you?” Sun said.

“I’ve already gone through this with Rainbow Dash,” Blake murmured.

“Well, if you didn’t want to go through it a second time, maybe you should have let me into that circle,” Sun pointed out.

“Just because Ilia tried to kill me doesn’t make her a monster,” Blake insisted. “She’s not … she’s not Adam, and not even Adam was a monster sprung out of the darkness, fully formed. Ilia, Adam, Gilda, the White Fang, they’ve been shaped by their world, the way we all have. And just because I’ve turned my back on the White Fang doesn’t mean that I want to turn my back on all the people who were part of it. I want…” She hesitated. “Perhaps I just don’t want Ilia to hate me for what I’ve done.”

“You haven’t done anything,” Rainbow said. “I mean, obviously, you’ve done stuff, but you haven’t done anything worth hating anybody over.”

“And if I could persuade Ilia of that, I would be glad,” Blake said.

“Why?” Sun demanded. “Why does what she thinks matter to you so much?”

“Because we were friends once, comrades, partners,” Blake said. She looked at Rainbow Dash. “There was a time when Ilia and I were like you and me. I can’t just ignore that or pretend that it didn’t happen.”

“And if Ilia thinks you’re as sincere as Neon just thought Penny was?” asked Rainbow.

“Then I hope she feels better for getting to tell me to … that,” Blake said.

“Well, I mean … if you want to, then … can I come?” asked Sun.

Blake was silent for a second. “Sure,” she said. “It would be good to have you there.” She reached out, wrapping her arms around the shoulders of both Sun and Rainbow, drawing them in closer to her sides as she steered them forwards. “I’m glad to have you both here.”

Rainbow smiled as she put a hand on Blake’s wrist. “So, if I’m Ilia, and you’re still you … does that make Sun the Adam?”

“Hey!”

“No,” Blake said. “No, Sun is definitely not Adam.”

There was no missing the prison transport, parked on one of the docking pads that wasn’t in regular use by Skybuses and with another ring of Atlesian soldiers standing around it to deter onlookers — or at least to obstruct their view. As they drew closer, Blake released Sun and Rainbow Dash, and the two huntresses straightened up, walking with a more military stride than they had been just a second before.

The airship, which they could see much better once the soldiers had stepped aside to let them through, was a bit bigger than a Skyray, longer rather than wider, with a very square shape like a flying box with a cockpit at the front, and even the cockpit had sharper and more angular lines than the smooth bow of a Skyray. Rainbow knew without having to look inside that the cockpit would be separated from the main section where the prisoners were, but nevertheless, the airship had no weapons, just in case.

Major Schnee was standing beside the airship, and she looked up from her scroll at them as they approached.

“Dash,” she said. “Belladonna.” She looked at Sun, stared at him for a second, but said nothing, probably because she didn’t recognise him.

Rainbow saluted. “Ma’am.”

Blake also saluted. “I was hoping that I could speak to the prisoners before they’re taken away.”

Major Schnee blinked. “For what reason?”

“For … my conscience?” Blake asked. “I know that may not sound like a very good reason, but it is mine.”

Major Schnee glanced at Dash. “And does this apply to all three of you?”

“I can wait outside if that’s easier,” Sun volunteered.

“I wouldn’t mind a word, ma’am,” Rainbow admitted. “But Blake comes first.”

Major Schnee hesitated. “Alright,” she said. “You can have your word, but make it quick.”

“Yes,” Blake said at once. “Thank you.”

She led the way, with Rainbow and Sun following behind her. Rainbow followed Blake inside the exit, while Sun lingered in the doorway at the back of the vehicle as though he was afraid that if he actually stepped inside, then the doors would shut, and they’d all be locked in here with Ilia … and Gilda.

Gilda and Ilia had the space all to themselves; there was room for a lot more than two prisoners in here — Rainbow thought you could probably get at least ten people in the back of this airship — but everyone else had needed some medical attention, so it was only the two of them actually in here. They were both shackled to the floor by their arms and legs, which meant that Gilda’s back was hunched over in a way that looked kind of uncomfortable.

Ilia was smaller, so she didn’t have that problem. It also meant that when Blake and Rainbow came in, Ilia didn’t have to look up quite so much in order to see who it was.

“Traitor,” she spat.

“Hey, Dash,” Gilda said. “Hey, Blake.” She sighed. “Listen, about the whole … stabbing Applejack thing, no hard feelings, yeah?”

“'No hard feelings'?” Rainbow repeated incredulously. “'No hard' … you snuck up here to kill one of my friends, and then I catch you standing over another of my friends with your sword ready to stab her, and now it’s ‘no hard feelings’?”

“Well, it was nothing personal!” Gilda cried. “It was just war. We’re on opposite sides, and sometimes, that means … Applejack came to us; I didn’t go looking for her.”

“You went looking for Blake,” Rainbow growled. “Or as good as makes no difference.”

“Blake deserves nothing less!” Ilia spat. “You deserve death, you deserve worse than death, you deserve a more painful death than we could give you!”

“Ilia,” Blake whispered.

“You betrayed us all!” Ilia yelled. “You betrayed the movement, betrayed the High Leader, betrayed the cause—”

“Oh, knock it off!” Rainbow snapped. “You know, I’ll take criticism where I’ve earned it, but I am fed up to here” — she raised her hand over her head, touching the roof of the prison airship — “with people like you two sneering at us, looking down at your noses at us because we’re not out there throwing bombs or painting our faces or yelling insults at Weiss Schnee.”

“What?” Gilda asked.

Rainbow ignored her. “Calling Blake a traitor, calling me a sellout or a house faunus, you know, I’ve about hit my limit.” She pointed to herself. “I have done more for the faunus in the last couple of months than you have in years! Blake and I took down a slavery ring recently; what have you two accomplished for your precious cause?”

“Rainbow Dash—”

“I’m sorry, Blake, but if Neon can stand up and let rip, then why shouldn’t I?” Rainbow demanded. To Ilia, she added, “You know what, I don’t think you even care about Blake betraying your cause or any other; you’re just upset that Blake betrayed you!”

Gilda looked down at the ground. Ilia kept on looking at Blake, but her skin turned yellow. Hopefully, that meant she was ashamed of herself.

Blake sighed. “You might not believe me, but I didn’t come here so that Rainbow Dash could yell at you.”

“She can yell if she wants to,” Gilda muttered. She looked up. “If our positions were reversed, I’d yell at you too.”

“You would if you’d had to put up with what I’ve had to put up with,” Rainbow replied.

Gilda said, “Listen, about that whole SDC thing … that was good work. And so was that Low Town stuff, saving all those people, solving the mystery. And I guess that goes for you too, Blake. I owe you both.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” Rainbow said.

“You know how it is, Dash,” Gilda said. “We’ve all got jobs to do, even if we don’t always like them.”

“How can you talk to her like that?” Ilia demanded. “She’s your enemy!”

“No, she isn’t,” Blake insisted. “Rainbow Dash isn’t the enemy, Ilia, and neither am I. I … I betrayed the White Fang, I’ll admit to that, I left, and I… I’ve fought against them since, because from my point of view, the actions of the White Fang here in Vale became evil, indefensible. But that’s still a betrayal, and one I don’t expect you to forgive right away, just like I don’t expect you to forgive my personal betrayal, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?” Ilia demanded. “I have nothing to say to you!”

“But I have something to say to you,” Blake declared. “I betrayed the White Fang, I might even have betrayed you. But did I betray the cause for which I joined the White Fang? No. Never. I didn’t join Atlas because I’d forsake our cause; I joined Atlas because I believe — and I believe I’m proving through my actions — that I could do more for our people in a white uniform than I ever could in a white mask. All the bloodshed, Ilia, all the death, what has it gotten us? What has it accomplished? Rainbow’s right; we’ve done more in Atlas, working through Atlas and Atlesian power, than in my whole life before. And we didn’t do it alone. I have the ear of an Atlesian councillor; we worked with Weiss Schnee to rescue the kidnapped faunus from Low Town. That’s the way forward: humans and faunus working together towards a brighter future, not divisions constantly reinforced with violence.”

“Brighter for who?” Gilda asked.

“For all of us, that’s the point!” Blake cried.

“Sounds like your parents’ way,” Gilda said. “Ask nicely; they’ll love us if we’re on our best behaviour.”

“And that didn’t work, I know, because my parents were still on the outside, standing on the doorstep with their hands out—”

“And they got the door slammed in their faces,” Gilda said.

“But I’m inside the house, and so is Rainbow Dash,” Blake insisted. “I’m not talking about standing on the doorstep; I’m talking about getting our hands on the door handle so that it can never be closed on anyone again.”

Gilda stared at her, her golden eyes seeming to get a little wider.

Ilia’s skin returned to its normal colour. “I don’t know who you’re lying to,” she said, “us or yourself. Either way, you’re wasting your time.”

“I know that you’re angry—” Blake began.

“Atlas killed my family!” Ilia yelled. “The Schnee Dust Company killed my family!” Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing. “If I had free use of my hands, I’d show you something of the power of Atlas. You’re an idiot if you think you can bend that power to serve you or our people. I don’t know whether I’d rather think you were that stupid or that you were just a traitor.”

“I’m making a difference,” Blake said, and Rainbow had to admire her patience in just standing there and taking everything that Ilia threw her way without losing her temper over it. “I’ve found a better way than the one we knew back in Mistral. A way that doesn’t require us to sacrifice our humanity in the name of progress and the revolution, a way that doesn’t require me to hollow myself out until there’s nothing left of Blake Belladonna but bitterness and anger.” She paused. “You may not believe it, but I still care about you, Ilia.”

Ilia froze, her eyes fixed on Blake.

“I still think about our time together; I still remember those days in Mistral, the things you taught me,” Blake went on. “And it’s because I still care that I don’t want to see you lose yourself to wrath and bitterness like … I know that you still have your humanity, Ilia. Please, hold onto it, while you still can.”

Ilia kept on staring up at Blake. Her lower lip quivered.

Then it curled into a scowl, and a reddish tint crept into Ilia’s skin. Her voice sharpened as she said, “You’re right, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you still care, not one bit! Because if you did, if you really cared about me, if you remembered our time together the way you say you do, then … then there’s no way in Remnant you would have hurt me the way you did. The way you have. The way you’re doing right now.

“You’ve made your choice, Blake, and I’ve made mine, and so, if you came here to change my mind, to change who I am, to make me forget everything that has been done to me, to make me like you, then … then you’ve just wasted your time.

“And if that’s all you came here to say, then we’re done here.”

We Believe in Ourselves (New)

We Believe In Ourselves

Pyrrha quickened her pace, and Jaune did likewise, walking briskly across the promenade, ignoring the flashes of photography from the press and the public, ignoring — or at most, begging a polite 'excuse me' of — the public too as they caught up with Penny.

Penny herself was not moving quickly, but she was moving with a certain … a certain dignity, Pyrrha might have called it, with her back straight and her chin up and no shuffling or shambling in her step at all.

Perhaps she really was taking it all that well. Perhaps she really wasn't troubled by it at all.

Good for her, if so, but if not, then at least they could let Penny know that she didn't have to affect insouciance, at least not around them.

Just because she was their team leader—

Their new team leader. Was that not a marvel? Was that not a very thunderbolt from a clear sky? Who would have guessed, nigh-on a year ago when they had met, or even more recently as last week, that Penny would be their leader?

Pyrrha would not have predicted it, and much though she mourned the circumstances that had brought them to this point, nevertheless, she was pleased for Penny.

Pleased for herself, too, if truth be told. She knew — she had known ever since Sunset's close encounter with a White Fang bomb — that she was Sunset's intended successor, but knowing it was not the same thing as desiring it.

She did not desire it at all. Nikos though her name might be, long though she might boast a line of royal ancestors, leadership was not a destiny she sought for herself, nor was it honestly one to which she could call herself suited. Mother was right; what kind of leader would stand silently by while a friend was in need of defence, would allow the sentence to be passed without a word pleaded for so much as moderation and mercy? No, Pyrrha was not such stuff as leaders were made of.

But Penny … Penny had already made a good start to proving that she was made of such, and Pyrrha had high hopes that she would show much more if the times permitted. Penny had already grown so much, after all, shining brighter each day like a sun that was rising inexorably up over the horizon and climbing towards its zenith. Who could doubt — who would wish to doubt — that her best days were yet to come, that she would vindicate Professor Ozpin's faith in her tenfold or more?

And yet, for all that, just because she was a team leader did not mean that she needed to hold her heart behind a wall. For all that she knew that she had unburdened herself to Sunset more often, nevertheless, Pyrrha flattered herself that Sunset had known that she had a sympathetic heart in Pyrrha if she wished it. Now, she wished Penny to know the same, if she had need of such.

"Penny?" Pyrrha asked gently as she and Jaune caught up with their new team leader.

Penny turned her head one way, to look at Pyrrha, and the other way to look at Jaune. "Hey," she said. "Did Rainbow Dash or Blake say anything after I left?"

"Only that there was nothing to worry about; it's all been taken care of."

"Right," said Penny. "That's good to hear, thank you."

"How … are you, Penny?" asked Pyrrha. "How are you feeling?"

Penny was quiet for a few moments, even as the general hubbub of conversation all around them meant that it could hardly be said that they passed the time in silence. Their feet tapped lightly on the arena floor, and the smells of hot popcorn wafted into Pyrrha's nostrils.

"I," Penny began. "I don't regret a single choice that I've made, and that means that I don't feel too hurt by what Neon said; she doesn't know who I am or why I did what I did; why should I care what she thinks or if she hates me?" She paused. "But, at the same time, maybe it would have been better to have stayed away just now?"

"To what end?" Pyrrha asked. "To what purpose?"

"To not upsetting Neon?" Penny suggested.

"That's her problem," Jaune said.

"But mine too," Penny said, "because I … isn't she right, that I should run away from Atlas and then—"

"Pretend to care?" Pyrrha asked. "But you do care, do you not? There is no contradiction between wishing to be free of the control of Atlas and not wishing for the death or injury of your old teammates. Should Jaune and I have stayed away because we're not Atlesian? Do our other bonds count for nothing? Neon was too harsh by far."

Penny looked at her. "Thank you, Pyrrha. But all the same time, I can understand why she was upset."

"You are very mature," Pyrrha said, a smile blossoming upon her face. "For all your youth, you may be the most mature of any of us."

Penny gasped. "Really? You—" She cut herself off. "Well, I mean, I am the team leader now; I can't let my feelings run away with me. At least, not too often."

"'Not too often' doesn't mean never," Jaune pointed out. "If you ever … if things ever get too much for you, you know that we're both here for you, right? All three of us are."

“I know,” Penny assured her. “But I’m really — and I’m not just saying this because I’m the team leader or because I think I should — not upset. Neon … I didn’t fit in at Atlas; that’s why I left, after all, but at the same time, it means that even if I wanted to get upset, I really couldn’t get mad at someone telling me that I didn’t fit in at Atlas. I’ve made my choice, and Neon can think what she likes about that. I hope that saying it made her feel better.”

Pyrrha suspected that it wouldn’t make Neon feel better to hear Penny speaking so sanguinely — in her experience, graciousness was not appreciated by the angry when it was offered to them: the first time she had defeated Arslan in the arena, she had thought that being graceful in victory might mollify Arslan somewhat; instead, Arslan had called her some names which had rather hurt at the time — but she wasn’t about to tell Penny that for obvious reasons.

Instead, she said, “You really have grown up a great deal, Penny.”

Penny beamed at that, but was prevented from actually replying to Pyrrha by the voice of Professor Port, echoing across the entire Colosseum.

“Ahem,” he said. “We’re ready to begin the semi-finals of what I’m sure you’ll all agree has been a Vytal Tournament to remember! I hope our fighters are rested and recharged, because we’re about to announce the first match.”

If there is any justice or good fortune, it will be my turn first, Pyrrha thought. Rainbow needs a little more time to rest and recharge, I think.

The promenade had small screens mounted on the walls, not in the least large enough that watching the fights from here would be anything like as satisfying as watching in the arena itself — they were smaller than most televisions — but nevertheless, Pyrrha could look around and see on the screen, the four faces of the remaining fighters spinning around and around. With only four busts, and with three of the four each having, in their own way, quite distinctive hair, it was much easier to keep track of herself, her portrait appearing and then disappearing before reappearing on the other side of the screen.

And then finally disappearing altogether.

“Our first semi-final match is between Rainbow Dash of Atlas and Weiss Schnee of Beacon!” Professor Port cried. “Please take your seats as we invite our two contestants to make their way out onto the battlefield!”

Blake stood at the edge of the docking pad, watching as the prison airship flew away, gliding off into the blue, diving down below the Atlesian cruiser stationed just off the Colosseum.

“Where are they being taken?” she asked.

“Down to Vale,” replied Winter Schnee. “We’ve agreed to turn them over as a gesture of goodwill. Likewise, as a gesture of their goodwill in turn, the Valish have agreed to allow us to sit in on the interrogation and learn more about their intentions and purpose.”

“'Intentions'?” asked Blake, looking towards Weiss’ older sister.

“You’ll forgive us if we don’t take their word that they were here to kill you and Dash,” Winter said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Ma’am,” Rainbow said, one foot slamming down onto the floor as she saluted.

Winter returned the salute casually, almost off-handedly, before turning away, clasping her hands behind her back as she stalked off Blake knew not where.

Blake returned her attention to the prison airship that was growing ever more distant from her sight.

“Do you think it made any difference?” she asked. “Do you think they paid any attention to a word we said?”

“I think, from what I could see, that you might have gotten through to Gilda,” Sun suggested. “Maybe. I mean, I don’t know her like Rainbow does, but she seemed to be listening.”

“You think?” Rainbow asked.

“She’s your friend, you tell me.”

“It’s because she’s my friend that I don’t trust myself,” Rainbow replied. “I’d like to think that she was listening, sure. I’d like to think that … I mean, not that it matters now, so much.”

“You don’t think it matters?” asked Blake.

Rainbow made an almost shrug of her shoulders that didn’t quite get there. She ran one hand through her rainbow hair, over the top of her head. “The reason why I would have liked to get through to Gilda, the reason why I would have loved it if she’d done what you did and walked away from the White Fang is so that I wouldn’t have to kill her in the future. But now … whether she sees things our way or not, she’s still going to rot in a cell for years. There’s no walking away now; that chance is done.”

“But when she gets out of prison, at some point, even if that is years from now,” Blake said, “if she remembers what we said, if we got to her, then … then maybe she won’t leave jail the same person that she went in, maybe she won’t walk out of prison and go straight back to the White Fang.”

“You think what we said made that much difference?” asked Rainbow.

“Not to turn someone’s whole life around, but…” Blake hesitated. “If what we said, if it even causes so much as a spark of introspection, of thinking about things differently … maybe Gilda can educate herself in prison, do the work herself, change herself; maybe she just needed a little push to start the process.”

She paused and could not stop her head from bowing forwards a little. “Neither of you thought that I reached Ilia, then?”

“Well … do you want us to be honest or supportive?”

Blake sighed. “That’s a no, then.”

“She’s a lost cause,” Sun said. “I know that you wanted to help her, but she’s too far gone.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Okay, maybe I don’t,” Sun replied. “But I know what I heard her say, and it didn’t sound like the words of someone who was keeping an open mind.” He paused. “I get why—”

“No,” Blake said. “No, you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” Sun said, reaching out to her, putting his hands upon her arms. “Explain it to me, please. Because … maybe it’s just the fact that I never had White Fang friends like you—”

“Well, when you say it like that,” Rainbow interjected, “I mean … Gilda and I were friends before she joined the White Fang, and we weren’t really friends afterwards.”

“But you are friends, right?” Sun said. “That’s why you didn’t want to kill her. That’s why you wanted to talk to her.”

Rainbow scratched at her neck with one hand. “It wasn’t my choice to stop being friends,” she said. “Except maybe it was. Maybe I could have handled things better. Maybe if I’d been willing to talk to Gilda instead of throwing her out, then things would have been different; maybe I could have talked her out of joining the White Fang at all. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a stuck-up little jackass with her head up in Atlas who thought she was better than everyone else stuck down in Low Town, then Gilda would have listened to what I had to say. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I guess I’m worried that I made mistakes when we were kids that pushed Gilda this way, and if I could make up for those mistakes … well, I’d like to do that.”

“Some might say that’s itself a sign of arrogance,” Blake murmured. “It’s not your fault.”

“But this is your responsibility?” asked Sun.

“I didn’t just have White Fang friends,” Blake reminded. “I was White Fang. And Ilia was my friend, and for our friendship, I would like to help her, but not only for our friendship but also … because if things had been even a little different, then I could have ended up just like Ilia. Just like Adam.”

“No,” Sun said. “That’s not possible.”

Blake smiled at him, gently lifting the edges of her lips. “Sweetly said,” she murmured. “But you can’t know that.”

“You walked away,” Rainbow reminded her. “On your own. Nobody had to save you, nobody had to lecture you, nobody you’d tried to kill had to put themselves out there to lead you to grace like Ciel’s Lady writing all those epistles to everyone under the winter sun.”

“That’s right,” Sun said. “You did that all on your own.”

“If someone escapes from slavery, don’t they have an obligation to help free others left in chains?” Blake asked. “Or do they walk away, saying ‘I freed myself, so can they if they have a mind’?”

“An obligation? No,” Rainbow said. “A choice, sure; you can want to save Ilia, but nobody gets to demand that you do it. Nobody can demand that you even try.”

“But you have tried,” Sun said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It had better be enough,” Rainbow remarked. “It’s a long way between here and Atlas.”

“Ahem,” Professor Port cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation as his voice echoed out across the promenade. “We’re ready to begin the semi-finals of what I’m sure you’ll all agree has been a Vytal Tournament to remember!”

“Hopefully for the sanctioned fights,” Rainbow said, looking like she was on the verge of smirking.

Professor Port went on. “I hope our fighters are rested and recharged, because we’re about to announce the first match.”

As the faces spun on the nearest screen, and on all the other screens mounted on the walls of the promenade, the portraits of the contenders turning and over one another as though someone had managed to catch Rainbow, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Umber Gorgoneion and stick them in a washer like stuffed animals, Blake looked at Rainbow. “Are you rested and recharged?” She suspected that she already knew the answer.

Rainbow laughed as she scratched the back of her neck with one hand. “Not exactly, but maybe if I’m not up first—”

“Our first semi-final match is between Rainbow Dash of Atlas and Weiss Schnee of Beacon!” announced Professor Port. “Please take your seats as we invite our two contestants to make their way out onto the battlefield!”

There was a moment of silence.

Rainbow rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles. “Right,” she said. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Can you?” Blake asked. “Do this, I mean?”

Rainbow snorted. “Come on, Blake; it’s not like I’ve got no aura left.”

“How much aura do you have left?”

“Some,” Rainbow said, which wasn’t much of an answer at all. “I’m out of the red, and unlike Neon, I’m not going to die in the arena. I’m only up against Weiss after all.”

“Weiss is pretty capable,” Blake reminded her.

“I know, but she isn’t going to murder me,” Rainbow replied. “Is it ideal? No. But, you know, the reason they don’t give us time for our auras to recharge all the way is because this is supposed to be a test of endurance.”

“Except that you didn’t lose your aura in the arena; Sun barely took any off you,” Blake said. Hopefully Sun wouldn’t take offence at her stating that truth.

“Yeah, but so what?” Rainbow asked. “What am I going to do, forfeit the match? I can’t ask for a longer break, or for the draw to be re-run, or … Weiss’ aura won’t be full either — Neon gave her a tough fight — she’s probably in the same state as I am right now. I might still have more than she does.” She grinned. “And if I don’t, then I still made the semi-finals of the Vytal Tournament, and that’s more than most people can say.”

“I guess so,” Blake said, because there really wasn’t a lot else to say, was there? What else was Blake supposed to say, that she was sorry that Rainbow had burned her aura trying to help her? She wasn’t, really; she’d rather be alive, and she’d rather that Applejack be alive than that Rainbow be better placed in the tournament.

It didn’t matter that much in the scheme of things, although it would be a pity if Rainbow got knocked out by Weiss — poor Weiss, eternally pitted against faunus; at least if she made it to the finals, then she wouldn’t have that problem — because of the White Fang.

A pity, and a little ironic, too.

Not that she was going to say that to Rainbow Dash either.

“Good luck,” was all she said. “I’ll be watching from the box, with my mother and everyone else.”

Rainbow nodded. “My aura might not be all the way up in the green, but I’ll put on a good show for you all anyway. I should probably get down there, huh?”

“Take your time,” Blake said.

“To let my aura recharge a little more?”

“No, to give everyone time to buy their last minute popcorn and candyfloss,” Blake replied. “But maybe also to help your aura, too.”

Rainbow chuckled. “I’ll see you later.” She turned around and began to jog lightly — not at all fast; she was moving barely faster than a walking pace — down the promenade, looking for one of the routes that led out onto the battlefield.

Blake was left alone with Sun — and the crowds who moved around them, paying them little notice. Not even the little girls in their Blake Belladonna wigs paid her any mind, all too busy making their way quickly — some of the younger, fitter people ignoring the ‘Do Not Run’ signs to dash along the promenade, as did some of the children, who, unlike the young people, got yelled at by their parents for it — back to their seats before the match began.

“Would you like to join me up in the Councillor’s box?” she asked Sun.

“Well, it’s either that, or I go back to the contestants’ area and listen to Scarlet tell me what a loser I am, so…” Sun held his hands up in the air, as though she were balancing a set of scales. “It’s a tough choice, but I’ll go with you.”

Blake chuckled. “Is Scarlet really that bad?”

“Oh, he’s way worse.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Blake said, wrapping her hands around one of Sun’s impressively wide arms.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Sun assured her, as they started to walk together in the direction of Councillor Cadance’s private box. “I’m sure he’ll mellow out once he becomes team leader and I’m not around to bug him anymore. At least I hope he will, for Neptune’s sake.”

“You think that he’ll be made team leader, and not Neptune?” Blake asked.

“I think so,” Sun said. “I mean, he wants it badly enough.”

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean that you’ll get it,” Blake replied. “Or that you should.”

She thought about Ruby, and the ambition that she had shown last night; how long had that lain hidden, that desire to lead, to replace Sunset? Had it sprung out of the revelation of what Sunset had done, or had she kept it locked away inside for much longer than that, and only that aforementioned revelation had given her the leave to let it show?

Either way, she had not been granted her desire. Professor Ozpin had decided that to want something was not the same as being suited for it, and for whatever it was worth, Blake thought he was probably right, Penny was the better choice. She was … less dogmatic, but without Sunset’s accompanying vice of straying into a sort of solipsism. No, not solipsism, that was the wrong word; Sunset’s flaw was not selfishness but rather…

It occurred to Blake that Sunset’s flaw was one that Neon might have appreciated: she stood shoulder to shoulder with her comrades to a fault.

Even to a great fault.

Blake found that that was not a line of thought she wished to consider travelling down.

She was grateful when Sun said, “I guess you’ve got a point. I mean I never wanted to be team leader, and Professor Lionheart picked me anyway. I wonder what he was thinking with that?”

If what General Ironwood had said about the accusations made against Professor Lionheart were true — that was to say, if the accusations that Cinder had made against Professor Lionheart were true — then Blake thought that she might have an idea what Professor Lionheart had been thinking with his choice of Sun as team leader. For that matter, it would explain some of his other team leader choices as well: Arslan Atlan, for another; and Pyrrha had remarked that it seemed to be Medea Helios who was the driving force behind Team JAMM, not their putative team leader Jason. Had Professor Lionheart been deliberately making the wrong choice for team leader, so as to … produce worse huntsmen?

Had Salem commanded him to do so?

Well, she wasn’t going to tell Sun that he might have been chosen because he was a bad choice, so she simply said, “I’m sure that Professor Lionheart recognised your courage and resolve.” She paused. “You know, before I spotted Ilia and got drawn into this business with the White Fang, I was actually on my way to console you about the fight.”

“Really?” Sun asked, his voice rising a little.

“Yes,” Blake said. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Not really, it’s just … you don’t need to do that,” Sun told her. “Me losing a fight in some tournament doesn’t really … you’ve got bigger things to worry about, right? Like that stuff with Sunset?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “You know about that,” she whispered.

“Well, yeah, I think everyone knows about that, whether they believe it or not,” Sun replied. “I didn’t have a chance to talk to you about it earlier … I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

Blake didn’t respond to that. Does he want me to tell him the truth? What does he think the truth might be? Am I allowed to tell him anything? It doesn’t directly touch on Salem, or Maidens, or anything like that, but all the same… “Sun—”

“I don’t know if you know what really happened,” Sun told her, “And if you do know, then I don’t want you to tell me.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose, even as her ears pricked up. “You don’t?”

“No,” Sun said. “I choose to believe that this is all nonsense, just like Sunset and everyone in her corner said it was, just something that someone got ahold of and decided to make a big deal out of.”

“You … choose to believe?” Blake repeated.

“Yeah,” Sun declared. “Because if I didn’t, if it was true, then … then I’d have to decide what I thought about it, and that would be really awkward because…” With his free hand, he reached out to Blake and stroked his fingertips ever so gently across her pale cheek, making a tingle run down Blake’s spine as he did so. “I’d just rather not. So I choose to believe Sunset.”

"Just like that?" asked Blake. "It's that easy?"

"She's a friend of yours," Sun replied. "So I trust her."

Blake couldn't help but smile. "There are times when I envy you."

"Sure you do," Sun said. "I'm very enviable."

Blake chuckled. "Speaking of envy, I understand that you impressed Shining Armor last night."

"Yeah, yeah, I did," Sun said. "I'm not sure that he'll stay impressed after the way that Rainbow Dash tore me apart earlier—"

"I wouldn't worry about that too much, if I were you," Blake told him. "I admit that Councillor Cadance did have second thoughts about the whole thing, but Shining Armor fought your corner."

"He did?"

Blake nodded. "He said that you getting caught out by Rainbow Dash doesn't reflect on how well you'd do against more regular opponents. For what it's worth, I was going to tell you the same thing: Rainbow's very good, and the fact that you struggled against her doesn't reflect badly on you so much as it reflects well on her. Basically, you'll still get accredited." She gave him a nudge with her shoulder. "You'll be a huntsman before anyone."

"When you put it like that, it sounds really weird," Sun replied. "A little cool, I've gotta admit, but … kinda weird, all the same."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Blake assured him. "Have you … have you thought anymore about where you'll go, any plans?"

Sun nodded. "I think I might have found a place: guy advertising a room, no rent, just someone to help out around the place. Sounds perfect, right?"

"Sounds a little too good to be true," Blake murmured. "Are you sure that they're … safe? I wouldn't want you to end up like Leaf."

"That's your friend from that SDC thing, right?" Sun asked. "Maybe I can meet her someday?"

"That would be nice," Blake said. "But don't change the subject."

"Okay, on the subject, I'm sure that if I did end up in that kind of trouble, then you'd rescue me, just like you and Rainbow did her."

"Sun!" Blake cried, punching him lightly on the arm. "I'm being serious!"

"Okay then, seriously, unlike your friend, I can handle myself," Sun said. "I'm going to Mantle because I can handle myself. If this is some kind of trap or something, isn't it better that I walk into it than someone else who can't get themselves out of it?"

"That sounds nobler than it is; it would be better if you looked into a suspected trap from the outside," Blake pointed out.

"It's not like I can afford rent," Sun pointed out. "And if I get a job, then doesn't that defeat the point of me going to Mantle? Who am I going to help if I'm working all day?"

That was a good point, so good a point that it was rather difficult to refute. "I … what kind of place is this?" Blake asked. "This free room?"

"It's in the back of a barber shop," Sun explained. "I'd have to, like, sweep up sometimes, run errands for the guy, but it doesn't sound too bad."

"The room might not be too good either," Blake suggested.

"Maybe not, but I've lived in Vacuo," Sun reminded her. "There's nothing Mantle can throw at me that I can't deal with."

"Well, if you're sure, then go for it," Blake said softly. "And make sure to send me the address once you get there."

They reached the stairs leading up from the promenade to the box, the same stairs that Blake had descended not too long ago with Twilight and Scootaloo — before she had seen Ilia, and her day had gotten a lot more exciting.

It was a little surprising to Blake — although considering their injuries, perhaps it should not have been — that they caught up with Applejack and Neon on the staircase, albeit near the top.

"Howdy, you two," Applejack said, with a bit of a grunt in her voice. "How did it go with, uh, with—?"

"With your and Dashie's old White Fang buddies?" Neon asked. "You know, I had an old friend in the White Fang too, but I kicked their ass and let them rot in jail; I just thought I'd point that out."

Blake frowned. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you point that out, for a start?"

"Because it's fun being morally superior to you, Princess," Neon said with a grin. "You may be up on your high horse, but today, I'm riding a mammoth."

"Are you?" Blake asked dubiously. "You … you didn't care about them? Afterwards? You didn't … you didn't want to—?"

"To what?" Neon asked. "Change their mind? Show them a better way? Lead them into the light of salvation?"

"You're mocking me, but yes," Blake said. "Aren't you religious?"

"So?" Neon asked. "You think that means I should be preaching or something?"

"Um … kind of, yeah?" Blake said, even though it sounded very stupid as soon as she said it.

Neon snorted. "If we did that, we'd be even more endangered than we are now. Although with Ciel as your example, I can see why you might think that."

"I heard that," Ciel said, emerging out onto the top of the staircase.

Neon's tail twitched as she turned around, looking up at Ciel. "Hey, Ciel; you know I love you, just like you know that you … letting other people know when they've stepped out of line is a you thing, not a faith thing."

"We are commanded to keep righteousness in our own hearts and let other people concern themselves with themselves, for good or ill," Ciel allowed. "At least in the modern day. There was a time when the faith did proselytise — the epistles were not written merely for the edification of the converted — but as the cold winds blew in, the Lady revealed to the later fathers and mothers of the church that it was more important to … preserve that which was good than to seek to purify that which was rotten."

"Plus, you know, nobody likes someone too self-righteous," Neon added. She looked back at Blake. "Something you should maybe bear in mind." She winked.

Blake struggled not to scowl at her.

"The point is," Neon said, "that Molly made the choice to go setting off bombs for the White Fang, so why is it my job to stop … okay, I did actually physically stop her because she was trying to kill people, but after I did that, why is it then my job to put myself out there and do the hard work over something she did and decided to do for herself?"

"Because she's your friend?" asked Blake.

"To be honest, I never really liked her that much," Neon replied.

Ciel began to descend the stairs towards them. "Are we talking about the girl who—?"

"Ruined your party dress for your fourteenth birthday, yes," Neon said. "Molly always had a nasty jealous streak; I think that's why she ended up with the White Fang."

"And you gave her a black eye over it," Ciel remarked. "You were always very protective of me. I probably … should not have appreciated the way that you went at her like that as much as I did, but … I did, as I say, I was very grateful."

Neon laughed lightly. "Personally, I think you had more fun fixing up that dress afterwards than you did at the party once we actually made it there."

Ciel did not confirm, though the way that a smile briefly played upon her face did not deny it either. She glanced from Neon to Applejack and finally to Blake. "I must say, you look to be in a better state than those who went to aid you."

Blake looked away from Ciel's gaze. "I was … trapped for a while, rather than injured. I was still very fortunate that they were there."

Ciel raised one hand to Neon's temple, almost but not quite touching it. "You're hurt."

"You're not going to give me a lecture on how I shouldn't have fought with low aura, are you?" Neon asked.

"No, I am going to ask you what happened?"

"I kicked the asses of the first two guys, including the one holding Blake prisoner," Neon explained. "Then the third one jumped me from behind. Blake helped me out before she could do too much."

"For which you have my thanks," Ciel said, bowing her head in Blake's direction.

"Neon did the same for me," Blake observed.

"Nevertheless, I am grateful," Ciel said. She paused. "What were the White Fang trying to do, could you determine?"

"Trying to kill Blake, accordin' to them," Applejack said. "And Rainbow Dash too."

"WHAT?"

The shout of exclamation came not from Sun, or from Neon, and certainly not from Ciel. It came from Blake's mother, who emerged into view at the top of the stairs, just as Ciel had done not long ago.

"Mom?" Blake said. "Were you … were you standing up there listening just out of sight?"

"Well, what was I supposed to do, since you wouldn't hurry up here and come speak to me?" Mom demanded. "You've been standing down there on the staircase, and I've had to listen to you chattering away — now ordinarily, I'd just be glad that you were talking to your friends, or even that you had friends to talk to—"

"Mom!"

"But ever since Twilight came back to tell me that you'd seen the White Fang and had run off to fight them, I've been sitting here worrying about you, and your dillying and dallying down here hasn't helped!" Mom declared. "And now you say that … Applejack, did I hear you right, they were there to kill Blake? And Rainbow Dash? Is that right, sweetie?"

"That's … what they said, yes," Blake murmured, bowing her head. She felt Sun put an arm — she might have called it a protective arm save for the fact that she had never felt really in need of Sun's protection — around her. "They were here for us. Gilda said that … we'd been making the White Fang look bad."

"Wow," Neon said. "Petty, much?"

"Gilda admitted that," Blake murmured. "Applejack broke through the door before she had a chance to rephrase."

"Applejack may have spared her the embarrassment of admitting that such a sentiment could not be rephrased," Ciel suggested.

Mom descended the stairs, one hand resting lightly upon the polished metal bannister. Her steps were slow, each one landing with a tap that, light though it might have been, nevertheless echoed in the corridor. "They came to kill you," she whispered.

"I'm fine, Mom," Blake assured her. "I was … bound, for a little bit, but then Applejack, and then Rainbow Dash, and Neon after that, they came to help me."

Mom nodded, and a smile crossed her face, even reaching her eyes after a moment's delay. Ciel stepped aside as Mom walked by her, reaching out to put her hands upon the necks of Applejack and Neon, stroking them gently up and down.

"Thank you," she said, "for helping her."

"We're all Atlesians, ma'am," Neon said. "All for one and one for all."

Mom looked at Blake. "I suppose you were onto something with this."

"I'd like to think so," Blake said quietly.

Mom nodded. She paused for a moment, sighing, although Blake wasn't entirely sure what she had to sigh about. Then she said, "I ought to kill Sienna for this."

Blake blinked. "Mom?"

"On the day," Mom began. "On the day that your father and I left for Menagerie … and left you behind; on that day, I begged Sienna to take care of you. You were just a girl, and though you were determined to stay, I wanted to make sure that you were in good hands, as best I could. And so I begged, I pleaded with Sienna. 'As my own daughter she will be, to me,' she said, and now … now this. Do you really believe that she wasn't involved? Do you really believe that they would dare try and kill you without her sanction?"

"They've tried to kill me before, albeit less explicitly," Blake observed. Although it would require the High Leader's order to send someone from the Mistral chapter, like Ilia, to Vale to accomplish a mission like this.

But at the same time, Sienna? Sienna Khan, who had been as a mother to her after her parents' departure, Sienna who had taught her and mentored her, at whose feet she had sat and listened and learned? Sienna had ordered her death?

"One day, if I am any judge of men, and my voice has any weight at all in my succession, you will sit where I sit and lead the White Fang when I am gone."

Perhaps Ilia wasn't the only one who felt personally betrayed.

"You have learned from me in Mistral, now learn from Adam in Vale. See how he commands men in battle, see how he wins their loyalty in the camp. See it, absorb it, and soon, I will give you a chapter of your own. The Atlas Chapter must be rebuilt; it has been shattered and leaderless for too long."

Perhaps Sienna didn't appreciate the irony, either.

"Even if that's true," Blake said. "And I'm not saying it is … I'd much rather that it wasn't. But even if it is true, then you shouldn't, you mustn't make anything of it. Sienna Khan is too powerful and too popular; you'd only hurt yourself, maybe literally, by making an issue out of this. If something happened to you because of this, because you were trying to stand up for me, I don't know if I'd be able to forgive myself. It's best to let it lie."

Mom was silent as she looked at Blake. "You sound like your father," she said, sounding sadder about it than Blake thought the comparison warranted. "Shrugging off the hurt and the insults, turning the other cheek. If he were here, he'd be so proud of you."

"And you?" Blake asked.

"Right now, I'd rather skin Sienna alive and make a throw rug out of her," Mom said airily. "But I suppose I'll do as you say if it will make you feel better. But we should probably get back to … but what were you talking about earlier?"

"How far earlier?" asked Sun.

"Oh, all the way, when we first heard you," Mom replied. "Something about … it's Neon Katt, isn't it; we watched you fight this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Commiserations, dear," Mom said. "And, if you don't mind me asking, do your parents still live in Mantle, or—?"

"They haven't gone to Menagerie, if that's what you're asking, ma'am," Neon said. "I don't think Mom would ever move. Yeah, she still lives in Mantle, with my nana; Dad is…"

"I'm so sorry," Mom said. "I didn't mean to stir up—"

"It's fine," Neon said quickly. "It's fine."

Mom's brow furrowed for a second. "But you said something about a friend in the White Fang?"

Neon smiled with one corner of her mouth. "Actually, what I said was, that unlike some people, she was never really much of a friend in the first place, so it doesn't bother me that she's gone away to prison."

Blake sighed. "One of the White Fang operatives up here was an old friend of Rainbow Dash's, Gilda—"

"Gilda Swiftwing?" Mom asked. "But Rainbow's letter to her parents—"

"You read Rainbow's letter to her parents?" Blake asked.

"Rainbow wrote to her folks?" Applejack said. "Boy howdy, never thought Ah'd see the day."

"Yes, she sent me a letter to give to them," Mom replied. "And I didn't read it; Rainbow's father read it out in my presence. And then he cried. But the point is that Rainbow's letter mentioned a Gilda; she implied she was employed here in Vale."

"I … think Rainbow was probably…" — Blake searched for a polite way of saying 'lying,' but all the synonyms seemed rather inadequate, as though they didn't quite fit the circumstances — "lying for Gilda's sake. Maybe her parents don't know that she's in the White Fang and Rainbow didn't want to tell them? Anyway, she is a member of the White Fang, and she was here, and so was a girl I knew from … the old days; her name is Ilia, we met in Mistral. After they were arrested, Rainbow and I went to talk to them."

"To interrogate them?"

"No, Mom, to talk to them," Blake declared. "To … try and make them see that it doesn't have to be this way, that we can have equality without violence if we're just willing to … as Sienna herself wrote, the road may be long, but we will walk it because we walk on two legs, not four. We can. We must."

"It's a little late to be telling that to two people who just tried to kill you, isn't it?" Mom asked.

"I don't believe so, no," Blake replied. "Not while they're still alive, and while I am."

"So like your father," Mom said, even as she shook her head, as though a comparison to Blake's father was not something to be proud of. "I remember one time, when we'd been ambushed in the woods by these rednecks, and they were…" She stopped. "You know, we really should get back to the box before the match begins."

"That's probably a good idea," Blake said.

They all mounted the last few steps, walking back into the Councillor's box — although it had gotten so crowded now that to call it a 'private box' seemed almost oxymoronic.

"You're back!" Pinkie cried. "And you're okay." She stopped, looking at Applejack. "Are you okay?"

"Applejack, what happened to yer face?" demanded Apple Bloom, aghast.

"Ah just had a little bit of a disagreement with the floor, that's all," Applejack said. "It made some pretty solid points."

Apple Bloom crossed her arms and grumbled. “I hate it when that happens.”

"But everything's taken care of now, right?" asked Twilight, standing up and looking back at them all. "Hey, Neon, what are you—?"

"I helped out," Neon said. "And I was kindly invited up here with you fancy folk as a reward."

"Everything is taken care of," Blake said. "The White Fang are in custody—"

"Or in hospital," Neon added.

"Yes," Blake murmured. "Or … that."

"What were they after?" Twilight asked. "Do you know?"

"Let's talk about it after the match," Blake suggested. "I'm a little worried about Rainbow Dash."

"She wasn't hurt, was she, darling?" asked Rarity.

"No, but she lost more aura fighting the White Fang than … before," Blake said delicately, to spare Sun's blushes. "I'm a bit concerned that she won't have enough left to face Weiss and everything that she's capable of."

"Speed won't be enough," Neon said. "It wasn't enough for me; it won't be enough for Dash. But, Dashie has more options than I do, then I'd say she's still got a chance. Don't forget, Weiss' aura isn't full up either, I banged her up pretty good before she managed to throw me out of the ring."

Leaf clapped — almost slammed — her hands together. “Yes!” she cried. “Now she is going down!” She pointed downwards, with both hands, to emphasise her point.

Veil sipped on a cup of tea. “You’ve said that three times already,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, well … this time!” Leaf declared, her voice rising at the end. “This time she is going up against Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow Dash will not let me down. No, the only person who is going down—”

“Is Weiss Schnee,” Veil said tiredly.

“Yes! And don’t say it like that; this time it’s going to happen,” Leaf insisted. “Rainbow’s going to kick her from one end of the arena to the other, you’ll see.”

“And I thought you were warming up to her a little bit,” Veil remarked. “Weiss Schnee, I mean.”

“I … maybe I am, a little,” Leaf admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I want to see her beat my actual friend. And she won’t. Just watch and see.” She settled back on the sofa. “This time, I’m right for sure.”

Rainbow rolled her shoulders as she walked into the arena, moving her arms briskly back and forth as she walked out of the darkness and into the light.

They cheered her on. Of course they did. All that cheering rising up like Atlas rising up into the sky. Rising up and then falling on her like a rain.

Rain falling on you could actually feel quite nice under certain circumstances, provided that it wasn’t too strong. Refreshing, like.

Speaking of refreshing, she wouldn’t have minded having a little bit longer to recharge, what with the White Fang having interrupted her break. She wouldn’t have minded if it had been Pyrrha called up instead of her; Pyrrha fighting Weiss would have been a thing to see, even if it did mean that Rainbow would have had to fight Umber Gorgoneion and her overpowered semblance.

Pyrrha versus Weiss might still be a thing to see.

No. No, Rainbow couldn’t let herself think like that. She couldn’t be defeatist before the fight had even started. Yes, it would have been good to have had a real breather, but duty called. She had to fly the flag for Atlas. She was the last person left flying the flag for Atlas after Weiss had knocked out Neon, and unlike some academies whose names began with an H, they weren’t going to just cheer for Weiss because she’d been born in the north kingdom. Atlas was Atlas, and Beacon was Beacon, and while you could move between them, as Blake and Penny had in opposite directions, you couldn’t keep a foot in both.

Unless you were Mistralian, and your people were so desperate for a win, they’d take any excuse to claim one as their own, apparently.

Since representing Atlas meant putting on a decent show for the crowd, Rainbow waved to them as she walked out. She waved to the north, to the south, to the east, and she even turned around and waved to the west, bouncing up and down upon the balls of her feet before she turned around again and made it the rest of the way to the central hexagon.

The crowd kept on cheering.

They even carried on cheering when Weiss came out; although there were still a few jackasses out there booing her, there seemed to be less of them than there had been. Rainbow hoped so, anyway; she hoped it wasn’t just one of those things where noises sounded different in the arena compared to outside.

She may be the villain of this tournament, but villains can be cool, right? They can be popular.

Sometimes, they can be so popular that they get to become good guys.

Weiss strutted out onto the battlefield, the epitome of poise, back straight, chin up, one hand on the hilt of her sword, the other held out by her side as if for balance, her eyes … Rainbow was sure that her eyes weren’t actually closed, but she was looking down in such a way that they kind of looked closed, and it combined with the pout on her face to remind Rainbow of nothing so much as a catwalk model, strutting her stuff in the latest fancy fashion.

Rainbow wouldn’t be too surprised to learn that Weiss had had to do modelling at some point, or something like it. Or maybe singers learned to walk like that as well.

Either way, as she walked out, crossing her legs as she walked to put some extra sway in her hips, Rainbow couldn’t deny — wouldn’t deny, didn’t want to deny — that she was impressed. From the way that she was rocking it, you’d never guess that she’d started this tournament as the most hated fighter in contention, or even that she was still getting booed as she came in.

Rainbow found herself smiling as she watched her opponent come closer.

Weiss reached the hexagon at the centre of the stage. She half-turned away from Rainbow, presenting her side to her — the side on which she didn’t have a scar — before she looked at her out of the corners of her eye.

“I understand you had some trouble with the White Fang not too long ago,” she said softly.

Rainbow stretched her arms, raising them up into the air. “It’s all wrapped up now, nothing to worry about. They were taken care of, Blake’s fine, everything’s fine. It was handled.”

“I’m certainly glad to hear that Blake is alright,” Weiss murmured. “She could have got into trouble by herself.”

Rainbow snorted. “She’s learning. One day, she’ll learn to wait for backup.”

The corner of Weiss’ mouth rose. “How’s your aura?”

“Not as good as it would have been if the White Fang hadn’t stuck their nose in,” Rainbow said, dropping her arms down by her side.

At that moment, the aura levels of the two of them appeared on the boards on the north and south of the stage: Weiss’ aura, partially recharged from her fight with Neon, was in the moderate yellow; Rainbow’s aura was also in the yellow, but closer to the red than Weiss had to deal with. Rainbow had Ilia to thank for that.

“Yes, I can see,” Weiss said dryly. She raised her free hand, as though she were inspecting her nails. “If only you’d had some additional backup.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I had backup, and anyway, you wouldn’t have been fast enough to keep up with me and Neon.”

“Maybe the two of you shouldn’t have rushed on ahead,” Weiss suggested.

“If we hadn’t rushed on ahead, Applejack would be dead,” Rainbow declared.

Weiss looked at her, the smile fading from her face. “Who?”

“Applejack, a friend of ours,” Rainbow explained.

“I don’t think I’ve met her.”

“She’s not a student right now; she’s interrupted,” Rainbow explained. “She went to help Blake too, got to her before we did. Then we got to her before … I’m sorry you felt left out, but—”

“I’m faster than you might think with my glyphs,” Weiss said.

“Not fast enough,” Rainbow replied.

Weiss lowered her hand. “Well,” she said, “we’ll see about that, won’t we?”

“I guess so,” Rainbow murmured. “Are you gonna try and make me pay because you’re mad at me?”

Weiss raised one eyebrow, the eyebrow that was intersected by her scar. “Do you think that I ought to be mad at you?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “But then, Neon did just accuse me of acting like her mom, so I guess other people might see things differently.”

Weiss chuckled. “I understand why you were worried. Were the White Fang after me?”

“Not according to them,” Rainbow said. “They said they were after Blake.” She didn’t add that they were also after her, because in the circumstances, it might have felt like she was bragging.

“Really?” Weiss gasped, her voice rising. “After Blake? But Blake…” Her voice trailed off. “My word, that’s petty.” She coughed into her hand to clear her throat. “That is quite something, but still … I understand why you were worried about me; I understand the thought that my name might make me a target. But though I am a Schnee, I am also a capable huntress, and if there are any threats to my life, I would rather meet them head on than hide behind you, or Blake, or anyone else who wishes to protect me, however well-meaning they may be. If anyone wants to take my head, they’re welcome to try.”

Rainbow grinned. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Do so,” Weiss commanded. “For I intend to show you just how capable I am.”

“Now that it looks like everyone is seated, and our two contestants seem more than ready, we’re ready to begin!” Doctor Oobleck announced. Rainbow guessed that the live television feed was coming back after the commercials — she wondered what people watching would make of the fact that her aura levels had dropped so much; maybe they’d get the news about the White Fang; maybe they weren’t paying attention enough to notice things like Rainbow’s aura — as the floor of the arena all around them rolled back and Weiss and Rainbow descended into the pit below upon the floating hexagonal platform.

“Weiss Schnee of Beacon!” Doctor Oobleck declared, prompting a mix of boos and cheers, but thankfully more cheers than boos.

“Rainbow Dash of Atlas!” Doctor Oobleck added, to yet more cheering and fewer boos.

“I hope you’ll live up to your reputation,” Weiss said. “As I shall endeavour to live up to my name.”

“I try not to disappoint my friends,” Rainbow said.

Weiss made a gesture that was halfway between a nod and a bow of her head.

“Three!” Doctor Oobleck cried.

Rainbow Dash unfurled her Wings of Harmony, the metal sprouting from her jetpack with a series of metallic clanks and clicks until they were spread out on either side of her.

“Two!”

Weiss tightened her grip upon the hilt of Myrtenaster. Rainbow’s hands hovered over her machine pistols.

“One! FIGHT!”

Rainbow kicked off the ground, the Wings of Harmony carrying her upwards into the air. Weiss hadn't seen that coming; immediately after the word 'fight' had been called out, she had drawn her slender sword and started conjuring her black barrier glyphs in front of and beside her. No doubt, she'd been expecting Rainbow to rush her, just like Neon had rushed her — and, also, the way that Rainbow had rushed Sun, in fairness — and she had meant to be ready for it this time.

The fact that Rainbow hadn't rushed her thus caught her by surprise.

Rainbow soared, drawing Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome from their holsters on her hips as she soared across the battlefield, flying straight over Weiss, who had no barrier directly overhead.

Rainbow fired, the muzzles of her machine pistols blazing, but Weiss had already moved to protect herself from that quarter, conjuring another barrier directly overhead; if any of Rainbow's rounds snuck through in time and struck Weiss, then they didn't do much to her aura. She didn't even flinch.

Rainbow circled overhead, her wings and jetpack carrying her close to the top of the arena, up above the spotlights, up out of sight of the cameras, maybe — no, no, there was a camera there tracking her movements — up to the top of the forcefield that enclosed the opening in the ceiling, admitting sunlight in but keeping rain and snow out, as well as stopping any stray grenades or rockets from flying clean out of the arena and landing on some poor guy in the host city. Rainbow flew as close to the top of the sky as she could get within the confines of Amity Arena, circling once, then twice, like an eagle who knows there is a mouse somewhere but doesn't quite know where it is.

Though in Rainbow's case, she knew where the mouse was; she just didn't want Weiss to know that she knew.

She dived down, descending through the air, soaring down, hair yanked back by the air resistance, dropping down behind Weiss, firing as she did so. She managed to hit Weiss at least a couple of times before her opponent, knocked back against the wall of her own barriers, conjured up another one to protect her.

Weiss was now completely surrounded, protected by a hedge of her barrier glyphs. Rainbow dropped down, flying beneath the battlefield, her feet almost skimming the floor that would knock her out of the competition before she flew back up under the central hexagon.

She lurked there, legs tucked up, back hunched, lying in wait like … some kind of fish, probably. Or a seal. A seal lurking for a penguin to come in the water. Either way, Rainbow was lurking, hiding underneath the battlefield; the central hexagon was almost completely flat, with only a gravity dust crystal sticking out of the bottom to control its elevation, glowing dark purple as a charge ran through it. Rainbow waited there, in the shadow; she was in the blind spot of the cameras, nobody could see her: not the crowds, not the people watching at home, and certainly not Weiss.

Rainbow could decide when and where to emerge and attack.

Of course, Weiss could just stay where she was, playing turtle with all her bulletproof glyphs, but — and leaving aside the idea of just smashing through them, since Rainbow's aura wasn't whole enough for her to like the idea of throwing around a ton of aura booms like that, and anyway, she was a little wary of closing the distance with Weiss in her condition — that would drain Weiss' aura, and Rainbow would win the fight anyway.

Not that she really wanted to win like that, but if it absolutely came to it, and Weiss decided to spend the entire fight surrounded by her glyphs until her aura hit the red, she'd take it all the same.

But Rainbow didn't think it would come to that. Weiss wouldn't just sit there, waiting for her aura to run out through use of her semblance. Nor would she stand there blindly, waiting for Rainbow to attack her from any direction.

Weiss would come down here to get her, and when she did … then it would just be a matter of knocking her off her perch.

Rainbow waited. If Weiss didn't come down here, then she would go up, but for now, she waited, guns out, pointed on either side of her as Rainbow turned in the air, spinning slowly around and around, eyes scanning in all directions, waiting for any sign of Weiss.

She couldn't hear anything from up above; if Weiss was moving around up there, then her footfalls were too faint, especially with the noise that the crowd was making. The crowd … did the crowd just gasp? Rainbow thought that she heard the crowd gasp, but she couldn't be certain of it; she might have misheard. Because what could they be gasping about, nothing was happening?

Nothing that I can see.

But what could Weiss be doing that I can't see? Is she drilling a tunnel through the floor?

A white glyph appeared directly in front of Rainbow Dash. Rainbow watched it, Plain Awesome aimed straight at it, as it hovered in the air for a few seconds, five seconds, seven seconds before it faded away into nothingness, like it had never been at all. There was no sign of Weiss.

Another glyph appeared, about twenty or thirty degrees rightwards of the first; Rainbow trained Brutal Honesty on this one, her hand perfectly still as she watched the glyph, and waited. Still no sign of Weiss.

That glyph, like the first, disappeared. Another white glyph appeared, and then another one after that, glyphs glowing bright white, smoke seeming to rise off of them as though they were hot, but no Weiss to leap onto them, no Weiss to use them to suspend her in the air.

Rainbow smiled. Nice try, Weiss. She was trying to distract Rainbow, to make her jump at glyphs that she herself had no intention of jumping onto, and then once she had succeeded in distracting her, then she would come down somewhere else and try to hit Rainbow from behind.

But Rainbow wasn't going to fall for just a glyph with no—

There! On her left! Rainbow saw movement on the glyph, a flash of silver-white clothing; she spun towards it, training both her pistols on it. Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome erupted, bullets flying to tear—

To tear through the empty bolero that floated gently down to land upon the glyph.

I've been had! Rainbow began to turn, searching for—

Rainbow was hit from behind by a great force; she felt the point of Weiss' blade on her back, but she also felt the explosion too as she was hurled forwards, banging her head against the central hexagon in the process. Alarms blared from the Wings of Harmony, red warning lights flashing on both of Rainbow's shoulders, and the jetpack felt heavier on Rainbow's back as she started to descend towards the ground.

Ice dust! That had been what Weiss had hit her with; she'd struck with the sword and offloaded some ice dust onto Rainbow at the same time. The Wings of Harmony had a heating system that would melt the ice, but it would take a little bit of time to work, and the ground was very close already.

Rainbow cranked the thrust all the way up to full, hoping to buy herself some time that way, and as she did so, she twisted in the air to see Weiss Schnee, bare armed and bare shouldered without her bolero, standing on a black glyph angled downwards towards Rainbow Dash.

She was only there for a split second or less before the glyph launched her like a silver spear straight towards her enemy.

Rainbow fired at her as she came on, both her machine pistols blazing; her bullets struck home, but not enough to halt Weiss’ momentum as she soared across the distance between them, blade outstretched for a thrust.

Rainbow let Brutal Honesty fall from her fingers and clenched her hand into a fist.

Weiss flew straight and true. Rainbow twisted in the air as best she could with ice still weighing down the Wings of Harmony and freezing up the engine, letting Weiss fly past her.

And as she flew, Rainbow hit her hard upon the cheek.

It was weird, but in the moment that her fist struck home, Rainbow could have sworn that Weiss was smiling.

Rainbow hit her all the same, denting Weiss' remaining aura if not her face, knocking her sideways — into another glyph that stopped her before she hit the wall of the arena, before she landed on another glyph that kept her balanced off the floor.

Rainbow—

Rainbow was stuck. A black glyph surrounded her wrist, holding her in place.

Weiss had known. She had known how Rainbow would respond; she was smiling because she'd already planned for everything.

Two more glyphs appeared around her ankles, securing Rainbow even more firmly.

Do I have enough aura to break them, like Neon?

Is Weiss going to give me the chance?

That question was answered when Weiss launched herself at Rainbow Dash again; this time, she fired at Rainbow as she flew, blasts of fire dust leaping along the length of her blade to fly at Rainbow Dash, hitting her on the thigh, in the chest. Rainbow fired back, getting off what shots she could with Plain Awesome because this match might be over, but Rainbow wasn't going to let it go without fighting to the finish. She fired; she prepared to pistol whip Weiss as she came past.

Weiss fired another burst of fire dust as she flew by, lashing Rainbow with the edge of her slender sword.

"Rainbow Dash's aura has dropped below the limit!" Doctor Oobleck announced. "Weiss Schnee is the winner!"

"I'm sure that was an exciting match," Professor Port added. "If only we could have actually seen it for ourselves."

The crowd erupted. Some of them booed, but more of them cheered, a lot more.

It seemed like the villain had won the crowd over after all.

Weiss' glyphs vanished, and Rainbow — most of the ice melted from the Wings of Harmony — glided down to the ground to recover Brutal Honesty. As she slipped the pistol into its holster, she saw that Weiss had also landed, to pick up her bolero which had landed nearby once the glyph that had supported it had vanished.

"How is it?" Rainbow asked.

Weiss stuck three of her fingers through bullet holes in the fabric. "It … has seen better days," she murmured.

Rainbow winced. "Sorry about that."

Weiss smiled as she shook her head. "If I didn't want it to suffer any damage, I shouldn't have used it as a decoy, should I?" She started to pull it on.

"You're still going to wear it?" Rainbow asked. She had a feeling that Rarity would have a fit if she could see this, wearing bullet-riddled clothes.

"It's not completely ruined," Weiss pointed out. "And even with the bullet holes, it still covers more than doing without." She paused, taking a step closer to Rainbow Dash, and then another. She looked away, looking up at the crowd which had booed her yesterday and now seemed to be mostly cheering her on. "They've changed their tune, haven't they?"

"Your skill is winning them over," Rainbow said.

"My skill," Weiss murmured. "Or the fact my latest faunus opponents don't seem to hate me?"

Rainbow smirked. "A little bit of that too," she said as the arena began to drop down to pick them up. "Congratulations."

Weiss still didn't look at Rainbow. "If your aura hadn't been so low—"

"But it was," Rainbow said.

"Indeed, but I can't help but feel that I've taken advantage."

"The only thing you took advantage of was knowing what I'd do," Rainbow said. "You won because you were three moves ahead at the end; that's all there is to it. If I'd had more aura … you'd have come up with a different plan, I'm sure." She hesitated. "So … how does it feel to be a Vytal finalist? To have victory within reach? To know that your name will be remembered for this?"

"I hope to be remembered for much more, in my time," Weiss said softly. "But this…" Now, she looked at Rainbow Dash, a smile playing across her face. She spread her arms out on either side of her and twirled on her toes, her long side-ponytail flying around her. "This feels pretty marvellous, I must say."

Rainbow grinned. "I'll bet it does." She held out her hand. "Congratulations, Weiss Schnee."

Weiss took her hand, her small, pale hand fitting neatly into Rainbow's larger, darker palm.

They shook hands warmly as the crowd cheered on.

And We've Got What It Takes (New)

And We’ve Got What It Takes

“Hey, El-Tee,” Mallard said, “Weiss Schnee is gonna be a Vytal finalist.”

Martinez looked at him while not looking at him, keeping her eyes on the outside while shifting just a little bit to show that she was paying attention. “Is she?”

“Yeah,” Mallard replied, waving his scroll a little bit. “Says here she just won her semifinals match. A match that no one could see, but still.”

“Nobody could see it?”

“Weiss and her opponent went down under the stage, where there’s a blindspot for the cameras,” Mallard explained. “At least, that’s what it says here.”

“Huh,” Martinez muttered. “You know, that makes me feel a little bit better about the fact that I’m stuck here like this and couldn’t watch the fight anyway.” Disappointing for Stuart and Tyler though, I’ll bet. She smirked. “All the same, atta girl. You go get ‘em. Is the crowd still giving her a hard time?”

“A little bit, but not as bad, it says,” Mallard said, looking at his scroll again. “Says here she got more cheers than boos. It helps that her opponent was really good about it, apparently.”

“Well, that’s good; she never deserved to have all that crap thrown her way,” Martinez said. “Do you know who she’s up against in the final?”

“Not yet,” said Mallard. “She had the first match, and the match coming up will decide who she’s up against.”

“Right,” Martinez murmured. “Then you should put that away; we’ve got work to do.”

“Sure thing, El-Tee, but don’t you want to hear about the White Fang first?”

Martinez’s head snapped around. “'White Fang'?”

“Details are sketchy, but during the break between the quarter- and semi-finals, there was some trouble, and a bunch of people got arrested. They’re saying it was White Fang trying to do … something.” Mallard frowned. “Do you think it’s connected to what we’re doing out here?”

“I don’t know, but it could be,” Martinez said. “I mean, somebody is expecting trouble, or we wouldn’t be out here in the first place, so … yeah. It could be. Maybe someone — the Council, Ozpin, someone — knew that there was going to be an attack somewhere but didn’t know where it was going to be, that’s why we’re here, that’s why somebody tried to cover all the bases like this.”

“Only it turned out they were trying to hit Amity Arena,” Mallard said.

Martinez nodded. “That’s one theory. Only it can’t have been much of a hit if they took care of it all and had the semifinals afterwards. Sounds like a damp squib, don’t you think?”

Mallard nodded. “So … you think it’s not over?”

“I think we’ve got no excuse to assume that everything’s been all wrapped up and we can take our eyes off the ball,” Martinez said, and she looked out of the front windscreen of the van once again. “Put that away.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”

Leaf groaned. She groaned intensely as she put her head between her knees, her hands on top of her head, behind her squirrel ears.

Leaf groaned. Rainbow was out? Rainbow was out? Rainbow had been knocked out of the tournament?

It was bad enough that Blake had decided to drop out in round one, and Sunset had dropped out after round two — though she was probably glad that she’d done that, considering the bollocks that had been spread about her online since last night — but Rainbow was out? The one that Leaf had been counting on to go all the way, and she was out? All Leaf’s faves were out?

The one time, the one time — how many other times was she going to get the chance to say that a whole bunch of Vytal Festival contestants were her friends? — that she had known a load of the fighters competing, and they were all out now.

Her friend was out, and knocked out by Weiss Schnee!

It was cruel. It was way too cruel.

She felt Veil’s hand upon her back, rubbing it gently up and down.

“There, there,” Veil said. “There, there.”

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” Leaf said.

“Do you need to ask?”

Leaf scowled as she raised her head. “Why shouldn’t I be upset about this?”

“Because your friend Rainbow doesn’t look too upset,” Veil pointed out, gesturing towards the TV. “Look at her.”

Leaf looked. On the TV screen, Rainbow Dash was shaking hands with Weiss Schnee. She had her other hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder. They looked pretty friendly, she had to admit.

Rainbow Dash, her friend, looked pretty friendly with Weiss Schnee. Weiss Schnee.

Maybe … maybe Rainbow knew something she didn’t, something like what they were saying on the news, that it wasn’t the fault of the Schnee family, that it was bad apples in the company or whatever. Leaf hadn’t believed that, but now, watching Rainbow Dash with Weiss Schnee like that … maybe it was true.

If Rainbow thought that it wasn’t true, if Rainbow thought that the Schnee family had been involved in what they were doing in those camps, then she wouldn’t be acting like that, would she?

No, no, she wouldn’t, and Leaf would stand for no arguments upon that point.

Maybe I’ll call her and ask about it.

It’s not like she has anything going on right now, unfortunately.

“Well … okay, let’s say that she’s not that bad,” Leaf admitted. “Her first fight was pretty good, and that fight … we couldn’t see that fight, which sucks, but whatever, maybe she’s okay. But even if she was the nicest person ever, even if her family had nothing to do with any of that stuff and Jacques Schnee was just really bad at running his company, then I can still be upset that Rainbow got knocked out because that’s just terrible!” She flopped backwards against the sofa. “I mean, who am I supposed to root for now?”

“So,” Principal Celestia said, “all our Canterlot alumni have been eliminated.”

“Yes,” Vice-Principal Luna murmured. “Yes, they have. I wonder where all Rainbow Dash’s aura went? Was she involved with that reported disturbance with the White Fang, do you think?”

“If there was a disturbance with the White Fang,” Celestia replied. “It’s all speculation at this stage.”

“Yes, like the speculation about Sunset Shimmer,” Luna remarked.

Celestia was silent for a moment. “Even if we are to go around casting aspersions at elected Councillors—”

Luna snorted. “Elected Councillors indeed, now there is a standard to attach honesty to.”

Celestia shook her head. “Even if we are to go around calling them liars … I am sure that Sunset Shimmer did what she thought was best.”

“I am sure of that too; it worries me more than it appears to bother you,” Luna remarked. “Regardless of that, I’m sure that something happened up on the arena; Rainbow Dash’s aura didn’t deplete itself, after all, and she had much more of it after her fight with Sun Wukong. Enough to carry her through that battle, I think.”

“You’re quite right that something happened up there,” Celestia agreed. “Whether it was actually the White Fang or no … at this stage, we can hardly say, can we?”

“No,” Luna admitted. “No, I suppose we can’t.” She got up. “But, in any case, whether it was the White Fang or Silver Bullet or someone else completely different, something happened, and I believe that Rainbow Dash was involved in that something, and that something took a bite out of her aura.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Celestia said. “All the same, it is a pity that she is out.”

“To be a semifinalist is not nothing,” Luna pointed out. “It’s more than either of us managed.”

Celestia snorted. “Yes. Yes, I suppose that is quite true.”

Luna sighed, and as she sighed she got to her feet. “And now that all that is over with, I suppose I should begin my packing.”

“So soon?” Celestia asked. “The transfer—”

“May come at any time, and probably sooner rather than later if James has his way,” Luna said.

“Yes,” Celestia whispered. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She paused for a moment. “I will miss you, and so will the children, I believe.”

“This is not goodbye, sister,” Luna pointed out.

“Then why do you act like it is so much worse than goodbye?” Celestia asked. “You act like you’re going to your execution, not taking up a prestigious teaching post in Atlas.”

“In Atlas, yes. Prestigious? We shall see what I make of it, I suppose,” Luna said. “Teaching the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses to battle nightmares within the dreams of their friends, their comrades, and eventually everyone else as well. I may — I hope I will — make something prestigious of that, but … that doesn’t change the fact that this is not my choice. Yes, James is being very good about the whole thing — he could have been a lot harder on me — but … it is not my choice; I am being forced to flee against my will from the malice of Salem, and because of Lionheart, besides. You will, I hope, forgive me if that does not put me in a good humour.”

Rainbow had her hands tucked behind her head as she walked around the Promenade, ambling slowly in the direction of Cadance’s box. Sure, she could have gone back to the competitors’ area with Weiss, but she figured that instead she’d go check in on Twi and Blake and everyone, see how they were doing.

See how they’d reacted to Applejack’s face.

See if Blake had told them the truth about the White Fang attack. Rainbow wouldn’t put it past her not to try and pass it off with some kind of ‘well, I don’t know why the White Fang would try anything here’ because she didn’t want a fuss made over her.

And so Rainbow walked along the promenade, which was quieter now than it had been, because so many people were still in their seats waiting for the next match — Pyrrha versus Umber. How was Pyrrha going to deal with that semblance? One of the pleasures of being a spectator now was that Rainbow could wait and find out without having anything ulterior riding on the outcome.

Anyway, the promenade wasn’t so crowded now because most people were staying in their seats, and if they were paying attention, then they were thinking the same thing Rainbow was: how was Pyrrha, or anyone else, going to stop Umber when she could just freeze them with a look? What they weren’t doing was paying attention to Rainbow Dash, and why would they? She’d just lost, after all. She was nothing now, unimportant.

“Rainbow Dash?”

The voice was not familiar to Rainbow, but she stopped and turned around anyway. She was confronted by a young woman, maybe her age or a little bit older, with a little bit of blonde hair peeking out from underneath the rainbow-coloured wig that she was wearing on top of her head. She wore a turquoise blouse and a blue skirt, with a little gold bangle hanging off the wrist of her right hand. She was a faunus, with lizard scales on her face, most prominently around her eyes but also speckling her cheeks and neck; she had the letters SDC painted on her face, around one of her blue eyes, just like Sabine and Reynard had done before their doubles match with Weiss.

“You are Rainbow Dash, aren’t you?” she asked. She chuckled. “Otherwise, I guess congratulations are in order for a very accurate cosplay.”

Rainbow let out a little laugh. “No, I’m Rainbow Dash. And you are?”

“Strato Henderson,” Strato said. “I just wanted to say that I am … saying that I’m a big fan doesn’t seem to really cover it, but I don’t know … thank you, for what you did with the SDC not long ago. And I heard that wasn’t even the first time you’d rescued some people in trouble.”

“Well, I guess not; I was just glad I could help,” Rainbow said. “Did you … did you know anyone—?”

“No,” Strato said. “No, thank gods, my mother is on deployment to Argus right now, or she’d be here too, and my Dad owns a hobby shop in Atlas — he hates to fly, or else he’d be here — and no, no one that I know has gotten mixed up in that awful business; it’s just … when we found out what they were doing there, it was so awful, but you … it’s good to know that someone is able to stand up to them, and stand up for us too. You’re a real inspiration.”

Again, Rainbow almost laughed. It … it warmed her heart to hear it, she wasn’t going to lie about that, there was no way that she could hear someone telling her that she was a real inspiration and not get a good feeling out of it — she could feel her faunus ears starting to heat up — but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was stealing credit that didn’t entirely belong to her.

“I wasn’t alone in that,” she pointed out. “Not with the SDC, and not with the other thing you mentioned, down in Low Town, either.”

“I know, you were with Blake Belladonna,” Strato said. “But … my parents aren’t the leaders of Menagerie, they aren’t anything special at all, they’re just ordinary people, and I … living in Atlas, do you ever feel like you’re not enough of a faunus to be a faunus?”

“How do you mean?” Rainbow asked.

“I guess I mean like … I haven’t suffered enough?” Strato said. “That sounds really stupid, I know, but down in Mantle, or in Low Town, or—”

“I’m sure that your old man worked really hard to get that shop up in Atlas, and I know your mother works hard in the military,” Rainbow told her. “I know that … there’s no call to be ashamed of your parents or of where you grew up. It’s not your fault that you grew up somewhere nice.”

“I know, I get it, I … I understand that,” Strato replied. “I guess my point is that someone like you, someone who grew up in Atlas too, the fact that you’re able to do your part and fight the good fight, I think that’s pretty cool, and it speaks to me more than Blake Belladonna does.” She held out her hand. “I guess what I’m trying to say is 'thank you for all your service.'”

Rainbow smiled as she took Strato’s hand. “Thank you, for saying that.” She considered asking her to take the SDC off her face, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. On the other hand, it was kind of rude to Weiss. “You know … Weiss didn’t really—”

“Oh, don’t worry, this isn’t about her,” Strato assured her. “This … this is about the company. Just because the Schnee family didn’t have anything to do with it, their business sure did. You know that they’re fighting compensation claims?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

She wasn’t sure what the SDC was thinking there; surely, there was no way that they would actually win in a case like that. Or maybe they might, since they could argue that Calliope Ferny and her associates had gone rogue, but still, they were SDC facilities, run and managed by SDC personnel, off the books or not.

Not to mention it was just not a great look to be fighting a case like this.

“This isn’t about the Schnee family; it’s about … it’s about doing something, even if it is something small, to keep reminding people that this happened, and that it’s still happening in some ways, and that we won’t let it go until justice is served.”

“That’s … that’s good to hear,” Rainbow said. I guess if it’s nothing to do with Weiss, then there’s no reason why she shouldn’t wear it. I mean that is what they burned onto the skin of their slaves.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Strato said. “I won’t take up any more of your time; I just wanted to let you know that you mean a lot to me, even though … I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow assured her. “It was good to meet you.”

Strato smiled. “Thanks. Um, before you go, could I get a selfie?”

Rainbow’s smile widened. “Sure,” she said, and turned around as Strato put one arm around Rainbow’s shoulder and held up her scroll in front of them both with the other. Rainbow felt Strato’s head touching hers, or at least the Rainbow wig that Strato was wearing touching her head, nudging her ear just a bit.

She grinned and flashed a peace sign up in front of her.

There was a flash from out of Strato’s scroll.

“Thank you!” Strato cried. “Thank you so much! Enjoy your day!”

“You too!” Rainbow said, waving to her as Strato headed off, presumably heading back to her seat, or to find a new seat to watch the last couple of matches.

Strato headed off, but the smile stayed on Rainbow’s face as she turned around, and resumed her journey around the promenade towards Cadance’s box.

Her scroll went off before she’d gone more than another ten or fifteen feet.

Rainbow fished into her jacket pocket for it; she suspected that it might be Pinkie asking her where she was, but it actually turned out to be a bit more of a surprise: it was Leaf calling.

She answered, tapping the green icon lightly with her thumb. “Leaf? Is everything okay?”

Leaf’s face appeared on the screen of Rainbow’s scroll; it looked like she was calling from inside a bathroom. There was a little cup with a pair of toothbrushes inside on the shelf behind her, along with a tube of toothpaste, a bottle of soap, and a roll of toilet roll. “Well, I just saw you get knocked out of the tournament, so it isn’t going brilliantly, but better than you’re doing, maybe?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Rainbow told her. “It’s just a tournament; it doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Leaf said. She stared out of the screen at Rainbow, a very flat look upon her face. “Rainbow. Dash.”

“Uh … yes?” Rainbow asked.

“I know that I’m not a big famous huntress who fights in the Vytal Tournament and is getting a TV show made about me — congratulations on that, by the way.”

Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, that’s pretty awesome. At least I think so. Blake has a few more reservations than me.”

“Is that because of the whole ‘killing off her mom’ thing?”

“The what thing?!” Rainbow cried, her voice rising.

“Apparently not.”

“No, seriously, what are you talking about?” Rainbow demanded.

“Well, my roommate read an article about your show; it says that one of the big plot arcs in the series is going to be the search for the truth about Blake’s mom and her death when Blake was a kid. Or something like that.”

Rainbow blinked rapidly. “But … Blake’s mom is still alive.”

“I’m a little worried about the way that they’re messing around with it too,” Leaf admitted. “Veil — she’s my roommate — she thinks that it’ll be fine, but I just don’t see why they have to take a perfectly good story and mess around with it so much. But maybe it’ll be fine. And hey, at least you get a TV show made about you; how many people get to say that?”

“I’m not sure Blake will see it that way,” Rainbow muttered. She’s going to kill me when she finds out about this. I’ll be as dead as her mother in this TV concept.

“Will she care?” Leaf asked. “I mean, Blake didn’t get on with her parents, right?”

“She … her mom came to see her at Beacon, and they’ve made up,” Rainbow explained. “I’m on my way to meet her right now. She’s actually kind of awesome.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow declared. “She’s wise and kind, but she doesn’t take herself — or anything else — too seriously either. At least, she pretends not to, most of the time. She can be serious, when she has to be. And she supports Blake in whatever she does, even when she doesn’t agree with her.”

“Sounds like the perfect mom,” Leaf remarked.

“You could do a lot worse,” Rainbow agreed. “Although if she could hear us, Blake’s mom would be the first person to tell us to appreciate the parents that we have and not wish for somebody else’s mother. At least, I’m pretty sure she would. And you know, I think a character like that would really work on TV nowadays; Blake could use someone to give her some good advice. And I’m not just talking about on TV either.”

“Maybe she’ll get a mother figure?” Leaf suggested.

“Or they could just use her actual mom,” Rainbow said. She sighed. “I feel like I should thank you for telling me about this, but at the same time, I really don’t like that you told me, because now I have to decide whether I’m going to tell Blake about it or not. On the one hand, I should be honest and tell her the truth; on the other hand … I don’t think she’ll like the truth.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Leaf said. “Pretend that you didn’t hear it from me, and it’s not like you found it anywhere else. I could tell her if you like?”

“No, I’ll tell her,” Rainbow said. “That way, she can get mad at me instead of you, since it was … kind of my idea that we should agree to let our names be used for this show in the first place.” Hopefully, the rest of it will be so good that she’ll forget about the dead Mom thing and come to appreciate its merits.

Because it’s bound to have some.

“Okay,” Leaf said. “Anyway, that’s not what I was going to say; what I was actually going to say was that I’m not famous like you, and I don’t get to fight in the Vytal Tournament with everyone watching, but I am still a competitive athlete, and I’ve spent enough time competing in motorcycle races to know that as much as you try and pretend that it doesn’t matter and it’s just a race and all of that other stuff that you say to make people think you’re a good sport, losing still hits you like … well, it hits you. So how are you doing?”

Rainbow hesitated. “I…”

“Come on!” Leaf cried. “We’re mates, right?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Yeah, we … what does that mean?”

Leaf rolled her eyes. “It’s Valish for ‘friend.’”

“Oh, right, then yeah, absolutely, we’re friends,” Rainbow said.

“Then tell me!” Leaf demanded. “Come on, if we’re mates, or friends, then you can tell me how you really feel. No judgement. Like I said, I’ve been there.”

Rainbow bit her lip. “Okay, I’ll tell you, I … I wasn’t actually supposed to go into the final round,” she said. “Penny was, because … that doesn’t matter—”

“But Penny didn’t even go through into the two-on-two round,” Leaf pointed out.

“No, she didn’t,” Rainbow said. “Because Ciel and I wanted it, and in the end, Penny didn’t want it; it was only other people who wanted it for her. So Ciel took her spot in the two-on-two, and I took her spot in the one-on-one. Which is a way of saying that I wish that I’d been able to go all the way. I wanted to be able to go all the way. I was … I’m not going to tell you that I expected to win, because Pyrrha Nikos has already beaten me once, and she probably would have beaten me again, but I would have liked to have gotten as far as the finals. I mean, everyone would like to get as far as the finals, I’m sure, but I … I would have liked to have gotten that far, you know? I would have really liked it. I know it doesn’t really matter, and there are more important things — this isn’t even the most important thing to happen to me today, actually—”

“You mean there really was a White Fang attack at the Amity Arena?” Leaf asked.

“You heard about— of course you did, it was on the news,” Rainbow muttered. “Basically, yes.”

“And that’s where your aura went between matches?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Rainbow said. “And, you know, the fact that Blake is okay, and so is everyone else — except for the bad guys — is more important than what happens in a tournament fight, but, all the same—”

“You wish you’d won.”

“It’s been a buzz,” Rainbow said. “Standing there with the crowd cheering for me. It’s been awesome, even if it doesn’t really matter.”

“Just so you know,” Leaf said, “I was cheering for you too.” She paused. “Losing sucks,” she added. “Losing will always suck, and if it doesn’t, that’s only because you really, really didn’t care about the competition in the first place. It sucks, and there’s nothing that I or anybody else can say to help with that. But I’m sorry.”

Rainbow smiled. “Thanks, Leaf. I appreciate that.”

Leaf glanced away. “Um, apart from that, there’s something else that I wanted to ask you?”

“Are you sure that everything’s fine with you?” Rainbow asked.

“Yeah, it’s not about me,” Leaf insisted. “I’ve got a new job, new apartment, new roommate who I like, even though she drives me crazy half the time — I’m even looking at getting back into motorcycling; I’ve found an indoor ring nearby that does amateur competitions.”

“Awesome, I might come and see you when I’m back in Atlas,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, that’d be great; you could bring Blake!” Leaf said. “And anyone else you liked; bring Penny!”

“Penny’s not coming back to Atlas,” Rainbow said. “She’s staying in Vale, at Beacon. She really liked it here.”

“Oh,” Leaf said. “Well, that’s good for her, I hope. You have to be bold and follow your dreams sometimes, or you’ll never get anywhere in life. I mean, look at me.” She smiled, although it didn’t last that long. “So, yeah, I’m good, but what I wanted to talk to you about was Weiss Schnee. You seemed … pretty friendly with her at the end of your match.”

“Well, we are friends,” Rainbow said. She had an inkling of an idea as to why Leaf was asking her about this, but she wanted Leaf to come out and say it herself; she wasn’t going to say it for Leaf.

Leaf frowned. “So … Weiss Schnee … she’s okay? She’s not … but her family—”

“It wasn’t her family; it was the company,” Rainbow said. “Not even Jacques Schnee knew what was going on, and Weiss certainly didn’t.” She paused. “Listen, can I tell you a secret?”

“You can tell me anything, sure.”

“Yeah, but this is a real secret; you can’t let on about this to anyone,” Rainbow insisted. “But Blake and I, and Penny, wouldn’t have found you without Weiss’ help.”

She couldn’t have explained in logical terms why she was telling this to Leaf, when she wasn’t willing to go public — when Weiss didn’t want them to go public with it, in fairness — to help Weiss’ image more generally, except that Leaf was a friend, and it didn’t feel right to leave one of her friends thinking ill of Weiss when she ought to have been thanking her. Was that a good enough reason? Maybe, maybe not, but she was going to do it anyway. She’d started now, after all; it would be a little bit late to back out of things at this point.

“When you called, we didn’t know where you were or how to find you, so we went to Weiss for help, and it was she who worked out where you were being held. From there, it was just a matter of showing up and shutting Calliope Ferny and her operation down.”

Leaf’s eyes were wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Rainbow said. “Weiss is owed as much thanks as any of us.”

“But…” Leaf murmured. “Why doesn’t everyone know this? Why is it a secret?”

“Because Jacques Schnee wouldn’t like it if he found out what Weiss had done,” Rainbow said. “And Weiss … okay, definitely keep this to yourself, or you might get sued even deeper into the ground than you already live, but Weiss … it doesn’t seem like she has the best home life. Let’s leave it at that, because I don’t have any details, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be right to share them around.”

“No, I get that,” Leaf said quietly. “But, with what you’re saying … Weiss would be a hero if people knew, and it would be a big help for the reputation of the family, so wouldn’t he be pleased? They wouldn’t be the bad guys anymore; they’d have helped to fix everything wrong with their company.”

Rainbow was quiet for a second. “I don’t know if Weiss has thought of that. Maybe she has. I’ll ask her about it. But the point is—”

“I already regret wishing that she’d lose every match she was in,” Leaf interrupted. “I would still have rooted for you over her, but now I’m rooting for her to win. But quietly, so Veil doesn’t find it suspicious.”

“I’m glad that we could straighten that out,” Rainbow said.

“Have a good day,” Leaf said. “If you can.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Rainbow assured her. “See you around, Leaf.”

She hung up and slipped her scroll back into her pocket.

I may not be able to help you with everyone’s opinion, Weiss, but I did help out with what one person thinks.

And, you know, you’re doing a pretty good job winning the rest of the crowd over on your own.

Rainbow soon finished her journey, crossing the promenade and nimbly mounting the stairs, two at a time, up to Cadance's box.

A box that was, as she saw when she made it up there, now so full of people that there weren't enough seats for those who were already there, let alone for her. Neon and Ciel were stood at the back, behind the chairs, along with Shining Armor and the rest of Cadance's security detail.

Those stood at the back were the first to see her as she came in.

"Tough break, Dash," Shining Armor said.

"You might have had more of a chance if it hadn't been for the White Fang," Neon growled. "They may not have killed anyone, but they did stuff our Vytal chances."

"Somehow, I doubt that will bring them any joy, should they learn of it," Ciel said softly.

The noise attracted the attention of the others sitting in front of them; they stood up and turned around to get a better look at her.

"Rainbow Dash," Twilight murmured, clasping her hands together in front of her. She tilted her head a little to one side and smiled a close-mouthed, sympathetic smile. "How … are you?"

"I wish I'd won, obviously," Rainbow admitted. Having admitted it to Leaf, there was less standing in the way of admitting it to others too. "But I can't get too upset about it. I'm just sorry that I couldn't make Atlas proud."

Scootaloo walked around the seats, her artificial legs tapping on the floor as she walked past the others to approach Rainbow Dash.

"I don't know if you've made Atlas proud or not," she said, "but you've made me proud."

She threw her arms around Rainbow's waist, pressing her face against Rainbow's front as she grabbed hold of her in an embrace.

Rainbow let out a breath, her body sagging a little — a little was all that it could manage with Scootaloo glommed onto her like this — as she put one hand the top of Scootaloo's head, rumpling her hair a little bit before her hand travelled down Scootaloo's back. "Thanks, kiddo."

"You've made us all proud, Sugarcube," Applejack said, touching the brim of her hat with one hand.

"You may not have gone all the way, but you did go further than all but two other people in the whole of four schools," Twilight pointed out. "That's pretty amazing."

"And you've still earned a 'You Reached the Semi-Finals' party!'" Pinkie cried. "Can we do that tonight, or—?"

"Uh, Pinkie," Twilight said quickly. "Tonight is the celebration of the end of the whole festival, remember? The fireworks, and the street parties, and I'm sure that Beacon will be putting on something official for everyone."

Well, they would if there might not be a grimm attack tonight, Rainbow thought. And if there isn't a grimm attack, then there probably will be a big celebration of some kind, just to stop everyone panicking, or just getting nervous imagining why we're not having fireworks and a big party.

"Oh, yeah, right," Pinkie said. "Okay, we'll have Rainbow's party when we get back to Atlas."

"That's probably for the best," Blake said softly. She looked at Rainbow. "I—"

"You don't need to say it," Rainbow assured her.

"Then I will say that, although the outcome is a pity, considering that you damaged your aura fighting alongside Blake against the White Fang, I'm glad that you made the sacrifice," Lady Belladonna declared.

Rainbow grinned. "Let's not call it a sacrifice, ma'am; it's not like I died." She paused. "Has, um, has Blake told you—?"

"Yes," Lady Belladonna said, not quite growling but with a bit of that creeping into her voice. "Yes, she has."

"Told us what?" Twilight asked. "Is this about—?"

"Later," Blake urged. "We'll talk about it later, after Pyrrha's match, when there's another break before the final."

You just don't want everyone to coo over you, so you're putting off telling them that there was an attempt on your life, Rainbow thought. Fair enough, I suppose.

Sun gestured to his seat. "You wanna sit down, Rainbow?"

"Nah, you stay where you are," Rainbow told him. "I'll be fine standing."

"Incidentally, darling," Rarity remarked. "How much damage did you do to Weiss Schnee's bolero?"

"You saw that?" Rainbow asked as Scootaloo released one of her arms around Rainbow Dash, and the two began to walk back towards Scootaloo's seat.

"We saw her take it off, then throw it down on the other side of the battlefield to that which she descended," Rarity said. "So it wasn't hard to guess that she used it as a distraction. And we heard the shots."

"I put a few bullet holes in it," Rainbow admitted. "But it was fine for her to wear afterwards; it wasn't ruined."

"Wearing it with bullet holes in, goodness," Rarity murmured, her face growing even paler than it was before. "Do you think that she would allow me to mend it for her, before the finals? You could vouch for my talents. It would be a terrible shame, after all, if she were to have to go out and represent herself and her school while wearing a bolero with—" — she shuddered theatrically — "bullet holes in it."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Rainbow said. "But how?"

"Do you have a sewin' kit stored away in Pinkie's hair, too?" asked Applejack.

"I don't think she does," Pinkie said as she reached into her immense hair and started to feel around inside with one hand.

"No, darling, of course I don't have a sewing kit in Pinkie's hair," Rarity replied, as though the idea was just plain ridiculous. "The sewing kit is strapped to my leg beneath my skirt."

"So that means Pyrrha's up next, right?" Chester said as he sat down on the arm of the settee, next to River.

"There are only two huntresses left, so yeah, it's Pyrrha up next," Dad replied.

"Oh dear," murmured Mom, clutching at the azure brooch she was wearing on her collar.

"Have some faith, Mom," Sky said, looking to where her mother sat on a chair next to Gold.

"We've all got faith in Pyrrha," Kendal said, without reminding Sky that some of them had had it earlier than others. "It's just that her opponent has those freaky eye powers. You saw what she did to her last opponent: froze her solid. How is Pyrrha supposed to deal with that?"

For her part, Kendal was very glad that this was only a tournament, a fight for fun and glory and bragging rights. The idea of Pyrrha being left completely at an opponent's mercy like that … it hardly bore thinking about.

"Okay, so she's got an impressive power," Sky began.

"They're called semblances," Mom pointed out.

"Thanks, Dad," Sky said. "She's got a semblance, but Pyrrha's never lost a fight, she's the Invincible Girl—"

"I remember when you didn't like her," Kendal said amusedly. "And now look at you, her biggest cheerleader in the family."

"I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong," Sky declared. "And I'm not ashamed that I'm passionate about things either. When I thought that Pyrrha was bad for Jaune and for this family, then I was passionate about that; when I realised that I was wrong, I became passionate about my new and correct views. I've got nothing to be ashamed of." She gestured with one hand to encompass her sisters. "Some of you should be ashamed that you're not as supportive as I am."

"We're all supportive; we're just not as obnoxious about it as you are," River said.

"Let's stay on topic, ladies," Rouge commanded. "The topic being how Pyrrha can possibly win this when all her opponent has to do is take her sunglasses off."

"It will not be that simple," Sky insisted. "Pyrrha will have a way around that; she'll have seen something like this before."

"I wouldn't be so certain," Gold murmured. "Semblances like that are pretty rare."

"Maybe she can use a mirror," Vi said quietly.

Everyone looked at her. Violet was sitting on the floor at the foot of the settee, a book open in front of her, giving the impression — the almost certainly false impression, in Kendal's view — that she wasn't paying as much attention to the tournament as the rest of the family.

"Say again, Vi," Kendal prompted.

"And explain a little more," Sky added.

"Umber's powers are like a basilisk, or a cockatrice, right?" Violet said, putting her book down.

"A what or a what?" Sky said.

"Am I the only person who has any interest in myths or legends?" Violet asked.

"Yes," Sky said. "Because we have lives."

Violet rolled her eyes. "If you're going to be like that, I won't bother to tell you."

"Come on, Vi, don't be like that," Kendal urged. "Sky's sorry, aren't you, Sky?"

"I was only—"

"Aren't you, Sky?" Rouge asked heavily.

Sky huffed. "I'm very sorry, Vi, please tell us about … those things."

"They're kinds of grimm," Gold said. "Very rare, I never met anyone who'd ever seen one."

"Then where did the stories come from?" Aoko asked mildly.

"The grimm are named for mythical creatures," Violet said. "The cockatrice is Valish, the basilisk is Mistralian; they're both snake-hybrid creatures with a lot of similarities, including that they can kill someone by looking into their eyes. In one story, a basilisk was killed by someone holding up a mirror so that it looked into its own eyes and was struck dead by its own gaze."

"So you're saying that if Pyrrha held up a mirror then Umber would be hit by her own semblance and frozen stiff?" Sky asked. "That … is Pyrrha allowed to take a mirror in with her?"

"I really don't know," Gold said, a smile playing about his face. "It's not a question that came up when I competed in this tournament. Or ever, probably."

"The issue with that is that Pyrrha would have to lower the mirror at some point to actually finish off her opponent," Rouge pointed out. "It's a good thought, Vi, but I'm not sure how practical. But, nevertheless, I'm sure that Pyrrha will think of something. I hope she'll think of something."

"Pyrrha next," Terra said.

Saphron murmured in wordless acknowledgement; her brow was furrowed, her eyes were fixed upon the television.

Terra got down off the sofa, kneeling on the floor as she scooped Adrian up into her arms, bouncing him gently up and down. "You're worried, huh?"

Saphron glanced her way. "Well … you saw what that Umber girl did to Yang Xiao Long."

"Yes," Terra allowed. "But she tipped her hand in doing so. She showed what she was capable of. That means Pyrrha isn't going in there blind; she knows what she's up against. I'm sure that she and Jaune have a plan to deal with it."

"You think so?"

"Yes," Terra said. "Yes, I do."

Saphron paused for a moment. "Like what?"

Terra hesitated. "I don't know," she admitted. "But then, I'm not a huntress; they are, and that means they're trained to come up with answers in situations like these. At least, I think it does."

"Are your accommodations to your liking, Professor?" Camilla asked, as she stood in the doorway.

Before her was one of the guest bedrooms of the House of Rutulus. There were not so many now as there had once been; some of them had been converted to other things, like storerooms, as guests in this house were not as numerous as they once had been. But there were still some occasional guests, those who travelled from far afield to see Turnus either for business or pleasure, and hence, there were guest bedrooms for them.

All the rooms were mild and inoffensive in their decoration, very much influenced by the minimalist style that was in vogue in Atlas, or at least had been when Turnus had been there. The walls were white and, thus, could be very bright when the light reflected off them, and nearly empty, with only a bed, a single small bedside table, and a slightly larger — but by no means large — desk sat beside the door, with a plain wooden chair to sit on. It was hardly rich Mistralian hospitality, but guests did not have to remain in this room if they did not wish to do so. Camilla couldn't see why they would want to do so; this was a room for sleeping in, little more.

Although if the current occupant wished to remain here, out of her sight, she would have no objections to him doing so.

Lionheart was even now unpacking; judging by the number of bags he had brought with him, this room would not remain sparse and minimal for very long; Camilla could already see stacks of books forming on the floor.

It occurred to her that perhaps a row of shelves along the wall would not disturb the style too much.

She dismissed the thought. That was not why she was here.

She turned her attention away from Lionheart's belongings onto the professor himself, who was currently bent down on the floor as he unpacked another of his bags. He was turned somewhat away from her, so that she could not see his face, but her voice turned her towards him.

"Yes, my dear, it's all quite satisfactory. A bed to sleep in and a roof over my head will do me just fine." He chuckled. "Although I daresay I could still make do with less than that, if I had to. I am still a huntsman, after all." He laughed again, although to Camilla's ears, it did not sound a very convincing laugh.

"I am glad," she murmured. "As our guest, your comfort and wellbeing is one of our concerns."

"But not your highest concern?" Lionheart asked, in a tone that might have been intended to be playful.

"For myself, Professor, my highest concerns are the good of my lord and lady Juturna," Camilla said.

"Of course," Lionheart said. "Of course. In earlier days, your fidelity, Miss Volsci, would have become proverbial. As faithful as Camilla, they would have said."

His chuckle was only small and slight this time, but Camilla was beginning to grow weary of it nonetheless.

In so short a season had she already begun to weary of Lionheart's presence? Or wary of it, at the least. Turnus had decided to indulge Juturna in this, believing that there was more to be gained from the professor's presence than there was to be risked by it, and as he was her lord and she but his faithful retainer, she would abide by that decision and obey him in all things, and yet, in her heart, Camilla was troubled by it. She did not want him here, in this house, with these people.

The world could be a cruel place, Camilla had learnt that at an early age; the world was a place where her parents had perished before she could form many memories of them, where she had been caged for transport and for sale; where a good man could be torn down by the hands of his enemies and the bullets of those he thought his friends; where criminals could run riot, their power unchecked. The world could be a cruel place, but this house was a sanctuary in the midst of that cruelty. This house was a place of warmth and comfort and safety, a place of light against the shadows lengthening beyond the walls; a place of love.

These people who dwelt within this house, they were … they were the products of that sanctuary. They had suffered losses — the death of the old lord, the loss of the Agylla family wealth and title and status — but the name of Rutulus, the history of this illustrious family, the wealth and title to which Turnus was heir, this very house itself all had cushioned them from those losses, kept them … they did not know, they did not comprehend within their hearts, how cruel the world outside this house could be.

Yet now, both this house, this sanctuary, and those who sheltered within were both threatened. Camilla feared the shadows without might intrude upon the light.

For a shadow had been invited in.

"I do wonder, Professor," she said, putting one hand upon the door frame, "how such a man as you present yourself ever got into such trouble as you are apparently in."

Lionheart paused, silent, for a moment or two. "I … I'm not sure what you mean, my dear."

"I would prefer that you address me as Miss Volsci, if it is no trouble to," Camilla said, her voice sharpening like the sword thrust into her sash.

Lionheart climbed ponderously to his feet, grunting as he did so, momentarily clasping at his own knees as though they pained him. His lion tail hung limply down behind him as he finally straightened up. He was a tall man, and broad-shouldered, but Camilla was not afeared of large men; she had fought larger and stronger-seeming, and in any case, for all his size, Lionheart seemed … lacking in stature.

Although that might be as false as much else about him.

"Miss Volsci," he said, dry-washing his hands. "Do you … find my being here somehow disagreeable?"

"My lord has welcomed you into his home; it is not for me to question his decision," Camilla said calmly. "But I cannot help but note that the jovial headmaster you appear to be, the inoffensive fellow who bears slight and insults like an ass bears burdens, seems unlikely to have earned the ire of such men that they would see trained killers on his trail. Perhaps you have lied about your peril to Juturna—"

"Why would I do such a thing?" Lionheart asked, keeping his tone mild. "Why would I voluntarily choose flight, and to hide here?"

"Perhaps because you are more than meets the eye," Camilla suggested. The old lord, she was sure, would have seen through Professor Lionheart and into the heart of his mystery; she, alas, was not so perceptive, but she saw enough to perceive that there was an opaqueness about him that Turnus did not comprehend.

Lionheart took a step back. He kept on dry-washing his hands, rubbing them together over and over. "I … you have a suspicious nature, Miss Volsci. Are all guests in the House of Rutulus received with such hostility?"

You have not begun to see the hostility that I am capable of, Camilla thought, but did not say because she felt as though crossing the border into outright rudeness might serve Lionheart better than it served her.

"Perhaps," Lionheart went on, "if Lord Rutulus were to hear—"

"Do not speak to me of Lord Rutulus, sir," Camilla said, and now, her voice grew claws because Lionheart had crossed a line. He threatened her? He threatened her? In this house — in her house — he dared to suggest that she might be undone by words? "I have known Lord Rutulus since he was a boy, and since he was a man I have been his right hand in battle. I cradled Lady Juturna in my arms, and we wept together to learn of the old lord's death. Do not test my place in this house and in my lord's affections; it is not a battle you will win. Nor would your affable, bumbling exterior ever venture upon such ground."

"I don't know what you mean!" Lionheart cried. "I meant nothing by it, nothing at all, you … you really do have a suspicious nature if you think that I was threatening you, my— ahem, Miss Volsci, forgive me. I suppose I … maybe I meant to shame you a little, please forgive me." He half-bowed to her, cringing before her face. "Please, Miss Volsci, I am at the service of House Rutulus, and I am at your service too, indebted as I am to you for my sanctuary here. Please, what can I do to show you how grateful I am?"

You can go back where you came from and take your peril with you, if you are in peril, Camilla thought. But that was not her decision to make. So what she said was, "You may remember for me three things. The first is that I love this family dearly; I prize it above all else, certainly above my own life. The second is that Big Boss once thought himself the master of this city and mocked the idea that I might bring him down, but I stuck his head on a spike outside the palace and waved my hand before his sightless eyes. And the third, and last, thing I would bid you remember is that I am watching you." She paused less than a moment. "I am glad that the room is to your satisfaction. I will leave you now to settle in here." She curtsied. "Good day, Professor."

She started to back away, keeping her eyes upon Professor Lionheart as she went, retreating down the corridor with her eyes fixed upon him until he shut the door in her face.

He might look for cameras hidden in the room; he might even find the decoy that she had put under the desk when Turnus had told her that he was coming; she doubted he would find the real camera that she had hidden in the apparent mousehole in the skirting board.

Nobody knew about it; she rather thought that Turnus might have disapproved if he had known; the video went only to her scroll. If he was up to something, then she would know about it.

Camilla turned around, only to find Turnus emerging from around the corner.

"You don't approve of my decision, do you?" he asked, folding his arms.

Camilla licked her lips. However much he had heard, she had much rather that he had heard none of it. "It … it is not my place to—"

"Yet I would hear your opinion," Turnus told her.

Camilla nodded. "Very well, if you would hear my opinion, then … it is my opinion that he is a villain, and I do not like his being here." She hesitated. "How much did you—?"

"Most of it, I think," Turnus said. He folded his arms. "I confess, I didn't like the way that he threatened you either."

Camilla could not quite prevent the slightest smile from tugging at the corners of her lips. "Then you, too, believe it was a threat?"

"I think it was intended as one," Turnus said. "That he would go tattling to me about you, claiming that you had threatened him, insulted him. Rather pathetic, if you ask me; stand up for yourself, man." He smiled. "You were quite right; it would have done him no good at all. I confess … it makes me a poor host, no doubt, but it was entertaining listening to you make him squirm."

"Did you hear what I said about his story making no sense with the man he is?" Camilla asked.

"I did," Turnus replied. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps he does have hidden depths to him."

"Yet you will have him here nonetheless?" Camilla asked.

"Juturna wants him here," Turnus said. "Gods know why, but she does, and I'm not minded to oppose her. I think she's right to say that I may gain advantage from his presence."

"But what of the danger?" Camilla asked.

"Danger from Lionheart's enemies?" Turnus asked. "Or from himself?"

"Either," Camilla said.

"I'm sure that we can protect ourselves against a few thugs, even if they do have murderous intent, even if they are huntsmen," Turnus said. "They cannot be all that good as huntsmen, or they wouldn't be doing such work. And as for Lionheart, Faintheart would be a more fitting name for him, don't you think? His hidden depths would have to be deep indeed if they are hiding the sort of malice or competence that could threaten us here. Lionheart doesn't frighten me."

Because you have grown up in a sanctuary and scarcely know what it is to be afraid, Camilla thought. "You have a bold heart," she murmured. "It is the glory of your spirit, and yet, I would have you remember that bold spirits may be undone when they present their backs to little men with knives."

"Then I am fortunate," Turnus said, "in having you to guard my back from little men, and big ones also."

Camilla felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Always."

Turnus smiled at her, and set her heart afluttering in the process, such a smile was it. “Will you come and watch this next match with us? Pyrrha is fighting a Shade student with a very powerful semblance."

"Powerful in what way?" asked Camilla.

"She freezes people with her gaze," Turnus explained.

"Indeed?" Camilla murmured. "That sounds a rare challenge for Pyrrha Nikos."

"All the hopes of Mistral now rest on Lady Pyrrha," Lord Wong declared. "Or else our years of hurt, as the song would have it, will extend yet further."

"Indeed, my lord," Lady Nikos replied.

She did not say, because it was no doubt obvious to Lord and Lady Wong, that she was not displeased that all the hopes of Mistral now rested upon the shoulders of her daughter; indeed, that was where she had always hoped that they would come to rest. Some might have wished for a final between Pyrrha and Arslan Altan, but Lady Nikos was glad that, when the final battle between Pyrrha and Weiss Schnee began, no one in Mistral would be in any doubt as to where their loyalties lay.

"The Schnee heiress is not without skill," Lady Wong murmured. "And not without a powerful semblance either, but I confess I am more worried about this Umber Gorgoneion … do you think that she could be of the Kisthenian Gorgoneions?"

"Why would a Mistralian, daughter of a noble line, attend Shade Academy?" Lady Nikos asked, infusing the name of Shade with a degree of sneering patrician hauteur that she would not have inflicted upon any other academy in Remnant.

"I know not," Lady Wong admitted. "And I admit that I have not heard of a third daughter of that family, but Gorgoneion is not a common name in Mistral; it cannot be common in Vacuo, surely?"

"Whether she is or is not technically a Mistralian, she is neither a Haven student nor well known to the public as a daughter of Mistral as Lady Pyrrha is," Lord Wong said. "She cannot serve as the focus of our hopes and expectations."

"I should hope not," Lady Nikos sniffed.

"But that semblance of hers…" Lady Wong murmured. "It is concerning, no?"

Lady Nikos did not reply immediately. She needed some little time to consider her response. The truth was that Umber Gorgoneion — whether she was of the Gorgoneion family or not — did possess a very formidable semblance; so formidable, in fact, that Lady Nikos felt that she probably owed Yang Xiao Long some sort of gift to thank her for exposing said semblance before it had come Pyrrha's turn to face it. An expensive hamper, perhaps, or maybe she should ask Miss Xiao Long what she wanted — within reason.

For if Miss Gorgoneion's semblance had remained concealed until now, and Pyrrha had marched out to face it unaware…

It was concerning. Most semblances gave advantages to those who owned the semblance, but they did not render their wielder invincible. Despite her epithet, not even Pyrrha's semblance did that; it could be negated by the simple act of wielding weapons made out of other than metal, or by — like Arslan Altan — fighting barehanded. Vespa's sting, Metella's hydrokinesis, Hector's barrier, they all gave advantage without guaranteeing victory. But Miss Gorgoneion's gaze, that was a semblance of a different sort. It was the sort of semblance which, in its power, recalled some of the old tales, in which the gods would gift their favourites with staggering abilities — and then cursed them for some insult, such as by making their great gift a passive one.

The fact that Miss Gorgoneion might consider it a curse was of little consolation to anyone on whom she used it.

How was it to be resisted? What could Pyrrha do to avoid being caught in that petrifying gaze?

"I am not in the least bit concerned, my lady," Lady Nikos declared, adopting an air of absolute — and absolutely unruffled — confidence. "My Pyrrha is the pride of Mistral, after all, and in all her tournaments, she has never lost a battle. She will not fall now, at the penultimate step, to some Vacuan, or even to an exile self-banished to Vacuo from our own land. She will have some means of overcoming this obstacle, I have no doubt."

Yet she was glad that neither Lord nor Lady Wong pressed her upon what that means might be.

“Poor Rainbow Dash,” Pyrrha murmured. “I hope, I am sure, that Blake and her other friends will offer some consolation in this difficult time.”

“If it is difficult,” Jaune said. “It didn’t seem that difficult, the way she was acting with Weiss.”

“She was being a good sport,” Pyrrha said, “but I think Rainbow is too competitive not to feel the sting of loss at all.”

“I guess so,” Jaune said softly. “So … now you’re up.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Now, it will be my turn.”

“And you’ll be up against Umber,” Penny said. “What are you going to do about her semblance?”

Pyrrha did not reply, mostly because there was no good and easy answer that she could give to that question. What was she going to do about Umber’s semblance? What was she going to do about the fact that, at any moment, even if not at the very beginning of the match, Umber Gorgoneion might freeze her in place and then eject her from the arena at her leisure?

They had discussed possible countermeasures, possible rules for Umber’s semblance, but they had been guesswork, fumbling blindly in the dark, with no clue as to whether any of their notions would work or not. Sunglasses? Blinding oneself? Yes, Umber wore sunglasses, and that seemed to stop her semblance from working, but it only seemed to be so. Yes, the idea that Umber’s semblance was a passive one — as strange as it sounded to speak of a passive semblance that nevertheless had active effects — was consistent with the way that her family had shut her up and acted almost as though she didn’t exist, but there could be other reasons for that. Pyrrha wasn’t sure what those reasons could be, but the point was that Umber might be able to turn her semblance on and off at will and merely wore the sunglasses to conceal that fact.

But she was concealing her semblance perfectly well up until now, so why bother with the elaborate deception that she might never have had to reveal?

Of course, even if Umber’s sunglasses did block her semblance, it was no guarantee that anyone else wearing sunglasses would negate its use on them in turn. It might only work one way and would not help Pyrrha at all. Blinding herself, if she could sustain it, seemed like a better approach, although there was no guarantee that that would work either, but if it did work, if it was not the case that Umber’s semblance affected everything that Umber could see with her own unobstructed gaze, then there was still the difficulty of how to fight while blind. Pyrrha had trained to see her enemies; her ability to sense them using her aura was … not the best. It was one of her weaknesses. One that Chiron had told her was ultimately unimportant for the life she was destined to lead.

Master, it appears you may have been incorrect about that.

As far as Pyrrha could tell, there was no simple answer to her problem; there was no one thing that she could do that would single-handedly negate the advantage that Umber’s semblance gave her.

I wonder if this is how some of my opponents felt when they prepared to face me: this trepidation, with no obvious answer ahead.

I suppose I should appreciate the irony of it.

“And now,” Professor Port said, “we are ready for our second semifinal, and there’s no need to select the contestants because there are only two of them left! Whoever wins this match will go on to face Weiss Schnee of Beacon in the final of this, the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament! Can Pyrrha Nikos and Umber Gorgoneion please make their way out onto the battlefield?”

Jaune sucked in a breath. He put one hand upon her arm.

“What are you going to do?” asked Penny.

Pyrrha, in turn, placed her free hand over Jaune’s, and squeezed it gently before she — with equal gentleness — lifted it away. “What I will not do,” she said, getting to her feet, “is delay.”

If this is to be my first defeat in the arena, then I will face it with the same courage that so many of my rivals displayed against me.

“Lady Pyrrha?” Umber’s voice rang out across the stands. “It seems our time has come.”

Pyrrha turned around to find Umber in the stands, she alone of her teammates standing up.

“You sound as though you have been looking forward to this, Lady Umber.”

Umber bared her teeth. “I am no lady, I am no Mistralian noble scion, I…” She took a deep breath. “It is because I am no lady that I confess I have been looking forward to this.”

Because I am a symbol of a system that you scorn? Pyrrha wondered. I will not say you have no cause to scorn it, but as with Cinder, it seems to be my fate, if I may be permitted a degree of self-pity on the subject, to draw the ire of those who see me only as a proxy for their grievances against Mistral.

So heavy is the burden of the Nikos name, she added to herself sarcastically.

“Miss Gorgoneion?” Medea Helios asked, bustling down the row of seats in front of Umber and her teammates, her robes flapping around her pale arms as she waved one hand to catch Umber’s attention. She was wearing sunglasses, Pyrrha noticed, although her hood cast her face in shadow well enough without. “Miss Umber? May I speak with you a moment, before the match begins?”

“About what?” Umber demanded.

“About … I feel as though we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Medea said. “I chose my words poorly and made a poor impression on you as a result. Yet I would be friends with you and know you better?”

“Why?” Umber asked. “Because you think that I may become Vytal Champion? I have no need of fawning Mistralian flatterers; I have true friends enough on whom I can rely.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” Medea said unctuously. “But one can never have too many friends, can one? One never knows who will be best placed to help one out in a jam.”

One hand reached out, as swift as a serpent sinking its fangs into the unsuspecting foot of its opponent, and snatched the sunglasses from off of Umber’s face.

Umber was not looking at Pyrrha, and so Pyrrha was free to observe as Medea — wearing sunglasses — suddenly went stiff and rigid, frozen in place just like Yang had been, utterly petrified by Umber’s semblance.

There was a moment of stillness, a moment in which Umber seemed to be as frozen as Medea was — frozen by shock at what Medea had done.

Then Umber let out a snarl of anger, and it was her turn for her hand to lash out, grabbing Medea by the throat and lifting her up off the ground.

The other members of Team JAMM were on their feet at once. Jason and Meleager drew their swords, while Atalanta nocked an arrow to her bowstring.

“Put her down!” Jason demanded.

Umber ignored him while the other members of Team UMBR rose to their feet, hands reaching for their weapons.

Other Haven students — Neptune and the rest of Team SSSN, Arslan and Team ABRN, Team BALL — began to rise warily.

“Umber!” Pyrrha cried out. “That is enough. Let her go.”

Umber growled like an angry dog, a guttural sound tearing its way out of her throat preceding any words. “Because you command it so, Lady Pyrrha?”

“Because if you wish to fight me out in the arena, it might not be a good idea to start a fight here in the stands,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Umber snarled in frustration as she grabbed her sunglasses back from Medea’s frozen hand. She let Medea go as she put her own sunglasses back on, letting the Haven student crash to the floor with a thump.

Umber took a deep breath, and then another. “How fortunate you are, Pyrrha Nikos, to have so many minions ready to scurry about running errands for you, like trying to find out if wearing sunglasses would counter my semblance.” She managed to smirk. “No such luck, I’m afraid.” She paused, taking another deep breath in and out. “I will await your coming.”

She stalked out, her long black coat flapping around her, her boot slamming down hard upon the floor and on the stairs that she descended.

Medea scrambled out of reach of the remaining members of Team UMBR. She coughed, and despite her aura, she had a hand at her own throat as she retreated towards the safety of her own teammates. “I regret,” she said, “that it appears that wearing sunglasses will not protect you, Lady Pyrrha.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, it would appear not. Nevertheless, Lady Medea, you have my thanks.”

I suppose I could always surprise her with my own semblance — pick her up by her armour and throw her out of the arena before she has a chance to use her semblance on me.

That would be ironic for her, but — although undoubtedly effective on my part — it would be rather unsporting.

But perhaps…

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said. “Will you come with me? I need your help with something before I enter the arena.”

"Yeah, sure," Jaune said, though he looked a little puzzled as to why, or at least as to what this had to do with her countering Umber's semblance. Nonetheless, he got up and made ready to follow her.

"Good luck," Penny said with an encouraging smile.

"Good fortune, Lady Pyrrha," Medea called to her across the stands. "You bear the standard for Mistral now, so bear it well against…" — she shot a dirty glance at the remaining members of Team UMBR — "Barbarians."

"We're relying on you now, Pyrrha," Arslan said.

Pyrrha did not reply. She hoped to show that she had taken their words to heart via her actions. She took a deep breath and began to walk towards the exit, towards that would lead by turns down to the arena. Jaune followed.

Yang, Ren, and Nora were sitting not far from that same entrance, and as they drew near, Yang raised one hand to accost Pyrrha.

"Hey, Pyrrha," she said. "You've got a plan for this, right? A plan for her?"

"I … have an idea, yes," Pyrrha replied. She wasn't certain that it quite rose to the level of a plan.

"That's … better than nothing, I guess," Yang said. "Because, you know, I'd kinda like to be avenged."

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I will endeavour to oblige you."

Yang grinned. "Knock her dead," she said, "and make this an all-Beacon final."

"No pressure, then," Jaune murmured.

"It's not like you didn't know the pressure was there already, right?" asked Yang.

"Indeed," Pyrrha said, for a tournament without pressure would be scarce worthy of the name.

She left Yang, reaching the stairs and descending into the gloom. There was no sign of Umber. There was no sign of anyone but her and Jaune as they walked quietly down the corridor until they came almost to the mouth of the tunnel, where the afternoon light — a little dimmer than it had been, but the sun was not yet set; merely a certain autumnal greyness was intruding to make the shadows longer — crept into the corridor from without.

"So, how can I help?" Jaune asked. "Do you want me to boost your aura before you go out there?"

"No, no," Pyrrha replied. "That would be unfair on anyone who didn't have you as their boyfriend, or even as their teammate. No, I was hoping I could borrow your sash."

"My sash?" Jaune repeated, looking down at the red sash, a little smaller than hers, that he wore around his waist. "But … why?"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to tie it around my eyes as a blindfold," Pyrrha explained. "My hope is that if I can't see Umber at all, then her semblance won't have any effect on me."

Jaune frowned. "Even after what happened with Medea?"

"Medea could still see Umber," Pyrrha pointed out. "I will be blinded."

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah you will, so even if you're right, and you're safe from her semblance … how are you gonna fight someone you can't see? Can't see and can't even hear very well, either." He paused. "You know what, there isn't much time; do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, albeit without perfect confidence. "I believe so."

"Then you don't need to explain it to me. Here, I'll be as quick as I can." He began to unbuckle his belt.

"Thank you for not asking why I don't use my own sash," Pyrrha said.

Jaune's smile was bright in the dim light of the corridor. "I get it. You want to wear your whole outfit for this, and it … well, it wouldn't look quite right without the sash."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Thank you for being so understanding."

Jaune finished taking off his belt; it clattered to the ground as he untied the sash he wore beneath it. Pyrrha watched as he unbound it, her eyes lingering over every movement of Jaune’s hands and arms, until the sash — shorter than her own, in a possibly more practical reason for wanting to borrow his rather than use her own as a blindfold — hung in one hand, his fingers clasped around it.

“I … guess you should turn around,” Jaune said. “Yeah, yeah, you should absolutely turn around; it will be much easier for me to tie it around your eyes. Unless … you want to do that yourself?”

“I think it would be easier if you did it,” Pyrrha said, turning around and closing her eyes, for all that it might seem redundant to do so. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Jaune let out a little amused snort. “Not at all. Kind of reminds me of playing blind man’s bluff with my sisters. Of course, I always had to be the one blindfolded.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yeah,” Jaune said as he pulled the sash over Pyrrha’s head and around her eyes. It felt warm and soft upon her skin, and it smelled a little of him. Pyrrha was plunged into darkness; even when she tried to open her eyes, she saw nothing but a very dim red light, heavily filtered through the cloth of her new blindfold. She closed her eyes again and was plunged into utter darkness.

“I think they just liked watching me blunder around the house trying to feel them,” Jaune went on.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Having met your sisters, I’m not sure I can believe that of all of them.”

Jaune laughed. “Well, it wasn’t all of them; mostly, it was River, Sky, and Kendal. And when Vi got older—”

“So it wasn’t just you that had to be blindfolded?”

“It was a long wait to not be the baby of the family but also for the baby to be old enough to play with,” Jaune said defensively. “But … I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have any fun, even blindfolded.” He paused. “Speaking of blundering around, how are you going to—?”

“I will use Miló, until I reach the centre of the arena,” Pyrrha said. It was her turn to hesitate. “But, speaking of blind man’s bluff, would you be so kind as to turn me so that I’m facing out of the tunnel?”

She felt Jaune’s hands upon her arms, just below her shoulders, above her honour band on her left arm; she felt his fingertips upon her skin as Pyrrha allowed herself to be moved by him, her feet following at his urging, turning less than she might have expected, but as much as, with a little thought, she probably ought to have turned.

“I’m relying on you not to let me walk into a wall,” Pyrrha said.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“No,” Pyrrha whispered. “I know you wouldn’t.”

She heard — just about; already, the noise of the crowd was loud and growing louder — a footstep. “You’re all set,” Jaune said.

It seemed to Pyrrha that his voice came from in front of her, but she thought that she must be hearing wrong and stepped forward regardless.

She had gone less than a step before she collided with Jaune.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha cried, but not without a touch of laughter in her voice.

Once more, she felt his hands upon her arms, and she felt as though she could see in her mind’s eye the charming smile he wore upon his face. “I said I wouldn’t let you walk into a wall; I didn’t say anything about myself,” he said.

She felt his lips brush against hers and wished that it were not so brief.

She felt his hands leave her arms, felt a brush of something against one hand, and when she heard Jaune’s voice again, it seemed to come from behind her. “Now you’re good.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

She stepped out. With her eyes covered and closed, she couldn’t tell if she had left the tunnel — there was no increase in the amount of light reaching her eyes; it was like wearing a well-fitted sleep mask — save by the sudden increase in the volume of the cheering, which she took to mean that she could now be seen.

“And here is our second contestant … blindfolded?” Professor Port asked.

No doubt, there were others who found it as strange as Professor Port, but they did not make their confusion known; at least, Pyrrha could not hear it. All she could hear was the cheering, and the singing of that song. Their acclaim fell on her once more, as it had in the fight against Arslan, like autumn leaves descending from the trees.

If it is my fate to mount the steps, then this will work, and my road will carry me through Umber Gorgoneion.

To whatever else may lie beyond.

Pyrrha drew her weapons, although it was not exactly customary to do so before the countdown had begun; nevertheless, she had need of them now. With the aid of her semblance, she felt Akoúo̱ slam into place upon her vambrace, and her fingers closed around Miló in spear form.

She teased Miló out until she felt the tip touch the surface in front of her, using it like a blind man with his cane to feel the surface in front of her as she walked forward, striding as confidently as she hoped she would have in any other circumstance, merely using her spear to feel in front of her. She was not afraid of tripping; rather, she wished to feel for the metal struts in the arena floor that, in the previous rounds, had been swallowed up by the terrain when it had risen.

And she wished to feel for the slight crack between the central hexagon and the rest of the arena around it.

The crack that she felt now.

She was, she thought, she hoped, in the right place.

She took two steps forward, using Miló to feel in front and behind her; the surface before felt smooth and even, without any hint of the metal struts.

“You’re in the right place,” Umber said sharply.

Pyrrha paused. “Would it offend you if I didn’t take your word for it?”

“I don’t want to humiliate you; I want to defeat you,” Umber said. “But I suppose I can’t blame you.”

Pyrrha knelt down and brushed the fingertips of her left hand across the surface. It certainly felt like the central hexagon.

“So, you’ve blinded yourself to avoid my semblance,” Umber said, her voice seeming to come from somewhere in front of Pyrrha, as she would expect. “That … well, there’s not much point in me pretending that won’t work, but you seem to be forgetting that my semblance isn’t all I’ve got.”

Pyrrha got to her feet. Time to see if this works or if I am about to be humiliated. “Believe me, I am well aware of all you have.” She turned her left arm so that the surface of Akoúo̱ was facing towards Umber, concealing — or hopefully concealing — her hand from view.

Concealing the hint of a black outline around her hand which, though Pyrrha could not see it, should be showing right now as Pyrrha activated her semblance.

Umber Gorgoneion was wearing a coat of scales, and her whips had metal heads. Pyrrha did not want to simply eject Umber from the arena using them, but if she could sense them, if she could feel them … Pyrrha used her semblance as she had used her spear just a moment ago, fumbling, groping. It was an unusual use for it, but she had used her semblance on weapons that were moving swiftly, moving more swiftly than her eye could follow, so she was not a complete stranger to the notion.

The battlefield on which they fought was flat and featureless; so long as she could tell where Umber was, then she need not fear anything else. So long as she could— there! She felt something; she felt metal, and not the metal of the floor on which she stood either, although that did make things a little complicated. But there, rising above the surface, there was Umber. Who else could it be? Pyrrha could feel the metal, feel the scales, feel the whip heads.

She hoped that she been so gentle that Umber had felt nothing in her turn.

So long as she could feel where Umber was, then her metal would guide Pyrrha to her.

The rest would be fortune, and Miló.

Umber was silent a moment, and if it hadn’t been for her semblance and its sense of her, Pyrrha would have had no idea whether or not Umber was still there or not.

"It is a pity," Umber said, "that I had to use my semblance on Yang Xiao Long; I had hoped to spring it on you as a surprise."

"I hope you don't mind that I take that as a compliment," Pyrrha said.

Umber laughed, a loud cackle that cut through the cheering and the singing of the crowd. "That is exactly how you ought to take it. I despise Mistralian pretensions; I despise the vanity of the Mistralian people, our— their lords and ladies especially, to strut and fret so, to posture and to pose, even as Mistral sinks ever deeper into irrelevance."

"I fear that, even if we are not a peacock people, then we are at the very least something of a peacock class," Pyrrha acknowledged. "But at the same time, I think that you do Mistral wrong to talk of sinking. I find my home is yet a very fair city in a fair land; is there more required than that?"

"Not if you really believe it," Umber replied. "But so many talk with such gloomy voices about Mistral's decline and all the while do nothing to arrest that same decline, or else push for more of the same that cause the decline in the first place! So many in Mistral will tell you that the house is on fire, and yet, they do nothing but jostle for advantage amidst the flames, fighting to be the last to suffocate on smoke. In Vacuo … in Vacuo, there are such troubles as would turn your lovely hair white with the stress of it all, but thank the gods there are also those with the good heart and courage and vision to do something about it! Vacuo will rise again, and I will see its glory renewed; who has any hope to say the same of Mistral?"

She paused. "Of course, we Vacuans are also capable of our own pretensions, of talking a lot of consolatory tripe about how a hard land has made a hard people in vain attempt to make a virtue of our straitened circumstances. And so, in the spirit of cutting through pretension, I will concede that your pretensions are backed up by some skill. That was why I would have preferred to catch you out with my semblance. As it is … thank you for cooking yourself for me in a different fashion."

Pyrrha did not reply. She would speak with Miló soon enough, she hoped.

"Well, ahem," Professor Port said. "I can't say that this is something that I've ever seen in the Vytal Tournament before."

"But there is no rule against it," Doctor Oobleck added, "and after Miss Gorgoneion's performance against Miss Xiao Long, I can't say that it isn't an understandable move by Pyrrha Nikos."

"Understandable, perhaps," Professor Port replied. "But will it prove to be well-advised?"

"That's what we'll find out," Doctor Oobleck said.

Pyrrha did not see the rest of the arena around her retract, but she did feel the central hexagon on which she and Umber stood descending; she felt herself being lowered into the pit, just as she felt her descent come to a smooth stop.

From what she could feel with her semblance, Umber's position did not change relative to her own.

"Umber Gorgoneion of Shade!" Professor Port bellowed.

"The day of the hare has come again!" Umber cried.

"Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!" Professor Port cried.

The crowd erupted in cheers with renewed vigour, cheering so loudly that if Pyrrha had been relying on noise to hear Umber's location and movements, she would have been well and truly sunk.

"Three!" Professor Port declared, his voice rising above the tumult of the crowd in the stands.

Pyrrha settled into a fighting stance, legs bent, shield up before her, spear drawn back for an overarm thrust. She wondered if Umber found it strange that Pyrrha was facing straight towards her.

"Two! One! FIGHT!"

Pyrrha charged forwards, straight at where she sensed or felt Umber to be, guided by the metal of her coat of scales. She could not see her opponent, nor could she make her out as more than a central mass and a galaxy of small points of metal that Pyrrha took to be the heads of her whips, but that was enough to guide Pyrrha as her legs pounded on the surface of the arena.

She felt Umber lash out at her with her whips, those small galaxies of metal objects suddenly speeding towards her. Pyrrha used a touch of her semblance — no more than a touch, or she would have lost her fingertip-grip on Umber's coat of scales — to guide them away from her, throwing them off on either side of her even as she pirouetted on her toe to give the impression that she was turning sideways and letting the whips fly past her. She spun, and as she spun, she threw Akoúo̱ at her opponent.

She did not throw it at her head, as was her wont when casting her shield before her, because she couldn't tell exactly where Umber's head was and didn't want to risk Akoúo̱ flying harmlessly over it. Instead, she aimed for what she thought was the centre of Umber's chest, the middle of the top half of the metal she could sense. As Pyrrha stopped spinning, she felt her sash briefly wrap itself around her waist and hips before it was disturbed by the renewed momentum of her charge as she rushed once more at Umber. She couldn't feel Akoúo̱, she wasn't trying to keep a grip on it — try to hold too much, and she might lose her grip on what mattered most — but she felt Umber's scalecoat reel backwards and felt a smile of satisfaction spring to her lips.

Before Umber could recover, Pyrrha was on her.

Miló spun in Pyrrha's hands; she didn't need to be able to see her weapon to be able to transfer it nimbly from hand to hand, to lash out with it at her metallic target. Slash with the point — contact! — follow with the shaft in one fluid motion — contact! — spin around, the crowd will love it, and jab your spear-shaft backwards — contact — now spin again and slash diagonally — contact! This was all second nature to her, the forms and drills that she had practised with Chiron until she could do them, well, do them blindfolded with her eyes closed.

She didn't know how much aura Umber had left — she had already been blindfolded before she could look at the lines on the board — but Yang had given her some hard knocks, to say the least, before Umber had secured the victory with her semblance. That much damage couldn't have regenerated so quickly. So long as Pyrrha could keep landing blows, it shouldn't take much to finish what Yang had started.

She thrust two-handed, straight ahead, extending her spear outward with the dust charge, and felt another contact with Miló's tip, even as she felt Umber reel back. She felt Umber come closer again. Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword, the crowd roaring so loud she could scarcely hear any trace of the metallic clanking sounds of the transformation. Up close, swift slashing strokes would—

Pyrrha felt something collide with her face with enough force to snap it backwards, her aura flaring in protest. Two more such blows followed, to one cheek, then the other, turning Pyrrha's face this way then that, before a hammerblow to her midriff sent Pyrrha skidding backwards, boots scraping on the surface until Pyrrha dropped to one knee to arrest her movement, throwing her free hand out to the ground.

Of course. I can't sense her fists — or her feet. That was the weakness of what Pyrrha was doing: she could tell where Umber was, but she couldn't tell what Umber was doing.

A pity she isn't wearing steel-toed boots.

I should have paid more attention to her whips; I should have noticed that she'd dropped them.

She's picked them up now, I think.

Pyrrha sprang away from the oncoming whips, landing on her hands — fingertips brushing the floor to make sure she wasn't launching herself off the platform — then backflipping onto her feet, hand reaching out to catch Miló before it fell.

She leapt away again — landing on one hand, then backflipping onto her feet — as Umber's whips lashed out at her again, even as Miló transformed from sword mode into rifle.

Pyrrha quickly raised Miló to her shoulder, aiming at Umber's armour. She fired once, twice, and then Umber was still able to fling her whips out at her, the cluster of metal heads lunging for her like a host of serpents, forcing Pyrrha to roll away, and upright, to snap off her third shot, then her fourth.

She felt the metal of the whip-heads drop. She sensed the central mass of Umber's scale armour moving towards her at speed. Umber was charging; she had had better luck hitting Pyrrha with hands and feet than with her whips, so why not?

Pyrrha fired her fifth and last shot; it staggered Umber momentarily but did not stop her. How much aura did she have left?

That may not matter.

Pyrrha did not want to trade blows, not where Umber would find it easier to block with her arms, to try and twist Miló out of Pyrrha's hand, while Pyrrha would be blind to Umber's punches and her kicks. Nevertheless, she leapt up to her feet, Miló switching from rifle back into sword mode, and stood ready, Miló raised, as Umber rushed towards her in a swift charge.

Swift, and with good fortune heedless too.

Pyrrha let her come, sensing her armour coming closer and closer.

Close enough for her to throw the first punch? A matter of judgement; how long were Umber's arms?

How close was she exactly?

Close enough?

Tyche Agathe.

Pyrrha dropped Miló and bent down, bent beneath — she hoped — any punch just thrown at her face as she lunged forward, reaching out with both hands for the metal she could sense before her.

Her fingers found something, fabric — Umber's jacket!

Pyrrha grabbed hold and threw herself backwards, dragging Umber with her, dragging her forwards; Pyrrha tucked her feet up, gathering what aura she could to them in the short span available, and as she felt her back touch the floor, she kicked upwards, kicking Umber in the gut — or somewhere near it hopefully — as she threw her upwards and forwards over Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha scrambled upright, recovering Miló as she felt Umber soar up – and then, like a star, begin to fall.

Down and down and down too far.

"Umber Gorgoneion has been ejected from the arena!" Professor Port declared. "The winner of this match and our second finalist is Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!"

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief at the same time as she let the light back into her world, pulling the makeshift blindfold up over her eyes just enough to see. She stood blinking in the suddenly bright light, squinting a little under the gaze of the crowds and the cameras.

It worked.

I did it.

I won.

I won!

She was a Vytal Festival finalist. Weiss awaited her in the final battle. If she won there, if she triumphed, then her career would be capped and crowned at the same time as it was ended.

She wanted it. She wanted the final triumph, the greatest triumph. She wanted to bring it home; she wanted to stand here as their champion. She wanted to go out on a high note, the highest of notes, here in the highest of places.

She wanted this, before she bid it all farewell.

She was pleased with herself, and she felt as though she had every right to be.

If only Sunset were here to see it.

Author's Note

The two things the wiki told me about Umber's semblance were that it only works on one person at a time and that it doesn't work on Fox because he's blind so it actually took me a while to work out how Pyrrha was going to win this (those sections in earlier chapters where Twilight and Blake and Weiss are debating what to do about Umber? That was me, hashing out ideas within the context of the story). I did consider some form of mirror, but Pyrrha's shield doesn't have a reflective surface and any mirror would have the issue of being allowed or not being big enough to shield Pyrrha's own eyes, hence the solution that I eventually went with.

The Last Respite (New)

The Last Respite

"Yes!" Terra cried, not only jumping up herself but sweeping Adrian up in her arms, bouncing him up and down, up and down. "Yes! She did it! She's a finalist!" She beamed at her son as she lifted him up and down like he was bouncing on a spring or being borne upon the waves like a ship. "Auntie Pyrrha's going to be in the finals of the Vytal Tournament. Yes, she is! Yes, she is!"

"'Auntie Pyrrha'?" Saphron asked, a smile threatening to break out on her face.

"I know, I know, you can call me out on that all you want later," Terra said. "But for now … if I admit that you were right and she and Jaune really are going to go all the way — probably — then will you let that slide? Because they probably are going to go all the way. Just like Pyrrha's going to go all the way in this tournament. Isn't she?" she asked Adrian, wrinkling her nose at him. "Isn't she?"

"Pi-aa!" Adrian cried, gesturing with both arms in the direction of Terra's face.

"Yes," Terra cooed. "Yes, that's right, Pyrrha! Pyrrha's going to win the tournament for all of us!" She started to dance up and down the living room, twirling Adrian around in her arms as he kicked his feet and waved his arms and gurgled happily.

"It's coming home, it's coming home," Terra sang softly.

"It's coming — Vytal's coming home!

It's coming home, it's coming home."

Saphron laughed. "Someone's in a very good mood."

"I have waited my whole life for this," Terra explained as she stopped dancing — Adrian made a noise of disappointment — to look at Saphron. "My mom was a child the last time that Mistral won the Vytal Tournament—"

"Mistral or Haven?" Saphron asked. "Because, you know, Haven still won't have—"

"That doesn't matter," Terra declared. "For some Mistral-born Beacon students, or Atlas students, or whatever, then sure, that would make a difference, but Pyrrha is Pyrrha Nikos, let me remind you, of the blood Imperial; her ancestors built this realm, and there's nothing more Mistralian than that. Her triumphs are Mistral's triumphs, It cannot be otherwise. When she wins—"

"You all win?" Saphron suggested.

"We all win; you're married to a Mistralian; this is your triumph too," Terra pointed out.

"Cable doesn't seem to see all this as his triumph," Saphron said.

"Well, Dad…" Terra trailed off. "Anyway, I'd like to say that you're right: when Pyrrha wins, we all win, and for many in Mistral, it will be true. The streets will ring out with celebration; people from here to Mistral and south to Thrace will rejoice and party and forget all their worries, cares, and troubles for a day or two. And the Steward will proclaim a public holiday. But … not everyone will celebrate."

Saphron got up off the floor. "You mean like the people who slandered Pyrrha and Sunset?"

Terra bit her lip as she sought for the best way of explaining it to her wife. "You know that, in Mistral, the fighting tournaments were originally only open to those of noble birth?"

"No," Saphron said. "No, I didn't know that."

Terra nodded. "The first commoner to ever win the games hid his face behind the mask of a red lion." She looked at Adrian. "Yes, a lion: grrrrr, grrrrrr!" she snarled in his face, making claws with the fingers of one hand. Adrian laughed.

Terra went on. "It was only after he'd won and become the Champion of Mistral that he took the mask off and revealed that he was only a butcher's son."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that, in Mistral, the elite, the well-born, the well-to-do, joined by a few talented outsiders who can claw their way in on the basis of their skill, are expected to excel, and the rest of us are expected to watch and admire their accomplishments," Terra said. "And we do. And we will, when Pyrrha wins and brings the laurels home. But for those who are expected to excel in their turn—"

"Jealousy," Saphron said.

"Precisely," replied Terra. "There will be some, even more than there are now, who will want to bring her down."

Saphron's brow furrowed. "But she knows that, right? She has to know that; I mean, that's her world, more than it is yours. You're just … a spectator; you can see it all the way from here, she has to know it, having grown up in it, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Terra said. "I think…"

"You think what?"

"It's nothing."

"No, go on, what?"

"I think," Terra began again, "I think that might be one of the things that drew her to Jaune, you know? An outsider, someone who wouldn't be jealous, who wouldn't feel like they were being outshone by her."

"Even if they were."

"You said that, not me."

Saphron chuckled. "I don't think Jaune would have any trouble admitting that Pyrrha outshines him. He might even like it that way." She paused. "Of course, all of this depends on Pyrrha winning. What if she doesn't bring it home?"

"I refuse to even entertain that possibility," Terra declared. "Pyrrha's come too far now only to fall at the last hurdle. She won't let us down that way. Pyrrha is going to win, and then … and then she'll handle whatever comes next; I'm sure she will." She smiled at Saphron. "With Jaune by her side." She started to dance once again. "It's coming home, it's coming home."

On the kitchen counter, Terra's scroll began to play a Countess Coloratura song.

"Would you get that for me?" Terra asked.

"Yeah, sure," Saphron said. She walked past Terra and Adrian, giving their son a little pat on the head as she passed him, crossing the living room into the kitchen to pick up Terra's scroll. She opened it up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Oh, hello, Saffy, darling!" the voice of Sif Cotta emerged out of the scroll. "Is Terra around?"

Saphron smiled as she held up the scroll so that Terra's mother could see her — and Terra could see her mother's face in the scroll. "She was just celebrating with Adrian."

"I don't blame you; isn't it marvellous?!" Sif cried. Terra's mother came from northern Argive stock, the old northerners who had settled Argus before the Kingdom of Mantle was ever thought of, with pale features and blonde hair starting to turn grey with the years and blue eyes with lines starting to show underneath them. She was starting to spread out, looking a little more plump than she looked in some old family photos, but in a way that lent her an air of warmth and cosiness.

"To think," she said, "that Mistral will have a champion again! That I should live to see the day! And Adrian will never know anything else! He won't have to grow up in a loser kingdom that never wins at the sport that we invented! Oh, she's done us proud, Pyrrha Nikos, to be sure."

"She hasn't won the title yet," Saphron reminded.

"Oh but she will, she will!" cried Sif. "Have some faith, Saffy, have some faith. Yes, she's done us very proud." She sighed. "If only she was dating some nice Mistralian boy, instead of—"

"Ahem," Saphron interrupted.

Sif looked up, as though she could see Saphron through the back of the scroll somehow. "What was that? Did Saphron just say something?"

Saphron raised her eyebrows and gestured down at the scroll with her head.

Terra winced. "Mom," she began, "there … there's something that I need to tell you."

"Tell me?" Sif repeated. "Tell me what? Why are you being so serious all of a sudden?"

"Well, because Pyrrha," Terra said. She hesitated for a second. "Pyrrha Nikos is … Pyrrha's boyfriend…"

"What are you dancing around for?" Sif demanded.

"Because Pyrrha is dating my brother-in-law!" Terra cried.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a scream from Sif that was so loud it made Saphron drop the scroll.

"That," River declared. "Was seriously impressive."

"That was amazing," Chester added. "It was like she could see the other girl even though she was blindfolded."

"Not that I ever had any doubts at all," Sky said, "but yeah, that was … how did she do that?"

The Arc girls — and Chester, but not including Aoko, whose attention remained fixed upon her laptop — looked at their father.

"What are you all looking at me like that for?" demanded Gold.

"You're the huntsman, Dad," Kendal said. "Tell us the trick."

"You think I know how she did that?" Dad asked. "I don't know, at least not for sure. I mean, I can think of a couple of ways … maybe it's her semblance. Did she ever tell anyone what her semblance was?"

"Not me," Kendal said.

"Nor I," added Rouge.

"Or any of us, I think," Sky said.

"Nobody knows what Pyrrha's semblance is; it's a topic of hot online speculation," murmured Aoko.

"Nobody in public, you mean, Aoko," Rouge said. "I expect Jaune knows, and her other friends."

"Maybe it's some kind of location finding," Dad said. "Third eye, echo-location, sonar … I don't know, you get some weird semblances out there, like freezing people with a look; maybe Pyrrha has one that lets her find people without seeing them. Or, I did know some people who attuned their aura so that they could sense the presence of enemies that they couldn't see; that way, they never got ambushed."

"Sounds like a useful trick," Sky observed. "Why doesn't everyone do that?"

"It's difficult," Dad said. "You have to be the right kind of person for it to come naturally to you, and if it doesn't come naturally to you, then, like I said, it's a lot of hard work, and most people don't find it’s worth it."

"Not worth it not to get ambushed?" Kendal said.

"What kind of person are we talking about, Dad?" asked Violet. “The kind it comes naturally too, I mean?”

"Calm," Dad said. "Very calm, mellow, not a lot of emotion."

"That doesn't sound like Pyrrha," Sky said.

"No, she's got too much emotion," added Kendal.

"Then it must be her semblance," said Gold. "Somehow."

"I guess the important thing is that she won, right?" asked Sky. "She won, and it's only that little Schnee girl that stands between her and winning the whole thing."

"That is the important thing," River conceded. "But it's also really cool that she was able to kick that other girl's butt without even being able to see her."

By the time that the central hexagon, the platform on which Pyrrha had fought with Umber, lowered to recover Umber from the bottom of the pit, she was on her feet. Pyrrha did not approach her; that might have been said to be rude, but Pyrrha could not help but recall the dismissive manner in which Umber had treated Yang after her victory, and that Umber was owed at least a little of the same treatment in kind.

The Shade student's head was bowed; she had one hand upon the silver armband that she wore on her right arm — the right, not the left as was customary with Mistralian honour bands — holding it as if to remind herself that it was still there as she made her way onto the central hexagon.

Having waited for her, Pyrrha decided that Umber had endured enough ill grace from her opponent, and approached, offering her hand.

Umber glanced at it, then turned away. "I did not take the hand of Yang Xiao Long when I defeated her," she reminded Pyrrha. "I will not be such a hypocrite as to take your hand now that you have defeated me."

"It will cost you nothing," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Nothing but a degree of self-respect," Umber replied.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment before lowering her hand down to her side. "I see," she said softly, so softly that Umber might well not have been able to hear her, her words snatched away by the cheering of the crowds.

Umber herself was silent for a moment, or else the cheering and the shouting and the singing smothered her words also and left Pyrrha unable to hear them. Yet, as the central hexagon began to rise once more, Umber did speak. "You fought well."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "As did you."

"Not well enough, clearly," Umber said pointedly. "If I may ask: how?"

"I … would you mind if I kept that to myself?" Pyrrha responded.

Umber let out a sort of cackling laugh. "No, indeed. Keep your secret, Pyrrha Nikos, and may you have joy of it."

She fell silent, and Pyrrha said nothing more either, the both of them standing there as the central hexagon rose, and the rest of the arena emerged one more out of the sides of the Colosseum to link the platform where they stood with the wider floor so that they could each escape the battlefield if they wished.

Umber did not move. As the hexagon completed its journey, as the floor returned, she stood silently, listening to the crowd.

"So many jokes, so many sneers," she said, echoing the lyrics of the song being sung so much louder from the stands. "But all those 'oh so near's wear you down, through the years." She looked at Pyrrha over her shoulder. "I despise the preening Mistralian elite, and I daresay I always will, but your kind are not the whole, or even the majority of Mistral. And, as Queenie reminds us, it's all for the people, in the end. Perhaps … perhaps the people of Mistral have suffered enough."

Pyrrha said nothing. Is … is she wishing me luck?

Umber smiled, or perhaps it might have been a smirk, before she turned her head away from Pyrrha and walked off, through the other corridor to the one that she and Pyrrha had emerged from, the one which Pyrrha had intended to return through.

Thank you, I think, Pyrrha thought.

"And that concludes our semifinals!" Doctor Oobleck announced. "Once again, we will take a break to allow our two finalists to recover some of their aura, and then we will return for the final match as Pyrrha Nikos and Weiss Schnee compete for the crown and the title of champion at this, the Fortieth Vytal Festival!"

The cheering became so loud that Pyrrha felt obliged to bow to the crowd, bowing her waist first to the east — facing towards Mistral — and then to the north, the west, and finally the south. With each bow she took, the crowd only got louder; Pyrrha wondered where they were getting all the air from, never mind the energy.

But, that question aside, it was a glad sound, a joyous sound. Joyous cheers and joyous singing. Professor Ozpin had told them, in the SAPR dorm room that morning, that the best thing they could do — she and Yang and Rainbow Dash by implication also — was to keep the people happy, to distract them from the cudgel of a grimm assault that loomed overhead, to distract them from all their worries and their troubles and their dangers known or unknown. To do what the Vytal Festival was intended to do and bring people together.

That was her mission for the day, until or unless the grimm actually attacked or Salem's agents did, and so far, Pyrrha would say that she was succeeding at it. Yes, judging from the noise of the crowd, she was doing rather well.

The fact that she could fulfil that mission whilst also pleasing herself was … rather nice.

Nice enough to put a smile upon her face as she made her way to the opposite tunnel to that chosen by Umber, the same tunnel through which she had entered at the start of the match.

Jaune and Penny were waiting for her, and so were Yang and Arslan. It was Yang who was closest to her and Yang who stepped up first.

"Thank you, Pyrrha," she said. "I really did not want to see her in the final. And not just because she might have won." She held up one hand. "Thanks for giving her a taste of her own medicine."

Pyrrha looked at Yang's hand, held up at the level of her head. "Um, I—"

"You slap it," Yang explained, her grin widening.

"Ah, yes, of course," Pyrrha said and drew back her own hand before slamming it, palm first, into Yang's raised-up hand.

Yang's hair became a little paler. "Okay, that … great job, Pyrrha." She took a step backwards.

Arslan stepped away from the wall to stand directly in front of Pyrrha, astride her path. "Congratulations," she said.

Pyrrha half-bowed her head. "Thank you."

Arslan jabbed her finger at Pyrrha. "You cannot mess this up now!" she declared. "You've come this far; the last thing that we need — that Mistral needs — is another Terri-Belle where you go all the way only to cut yourself in the last fight."

"Lady Terri-Belle fought bravely," Pyrrha murmured.

"She might have fought bravely, but she didn't fight well enough, did she?" Arslan replied. "I'm serious, P-money. This is serious. And don't come at me with any 'oh, it's only a tournament, it's not real life, it doesn't really matter' stuff; I know that there are important things out in the world, I know that some of them are more important than tournaments, that's why I'm retiring too so I can be as stupid as you are and become a huntress, gods help me, but this tournament matters, okay, what you do next matters. There are a lot of people back home who don't have a lot of reasons to be cheerful: people who couldn't afford to come here and cheer you on in person, people who struggle to feed their kids, people who can see that their kingdom is fraying at the edges and nobody has a plan to do anything about it."

"And how is Pyrrha supposed to help with any of that?" Penny asked. "Her winning the final — although it would be wonderful, and I really hope you do it, Pyrrha — won't solve any of those problems."

"No, it won't," Arslan admitted. "But I'm not sure that anyone can solve all of those problems, or at least nobody on the Council or running to be on the Council seems to have a clue how to solve all those problems. But what Pyrrha can do — what Pyrrha has to do and what Pyrrha has been doing up until now, I should say — is give people something to smile about. Give people a reason to forget their problems for just a little while, give them a day off work! Show everyone that Mistral is still … and before you say anything about the values of the Vytal Festival, fine, but peace and goodwill is one thing; it's another thing to say that we can't have our pride, especially since it's been a while since we had something to be proud of. And let's not pretend that you and Schnee both being Beacon students matters; this is Mistral versus Atlas, and we all know it, just like we know that they look down on us for our old-fashioned ways like we're backwards."

"When you live in the clouds, it's impossible not to look down on the people below," Penny said.

Arslan turned her head in Penny's direction. "I can't tell if you're agreeing with me or not."

"I … I think you're being harsh," Penny said. "But I also think you're not wrong."

Arslan looked back to Pyrrha. "You have to show that Mistral still counts for something. You have to give us a reason to put our tails up, in spite of all our problems, even if it's only for a little while."

"You pile a grave weight upon my shoulders," Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you can't handle the pressure?"

"Fortune will as fortune wishes, but I have no intention of letting Mistral, or myself, down," Pyrrha declared.

Arslan nodded. "Glad to hear it. So, what's your strategy against Schnee?"

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "Weiss, I expect to keep me at a distance; if I can close the range with her, then I should be able to prevail."

"That's an expectation, not a strategy," Arslan pointed out.

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "I…" She looked over Arslan's head at Jaune.

"That…" Jaune said, cupping his chin with one hand. "That's a tough one."

Arslan rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, this is very reassuring to hear, let me tell you! Come on, you've got to have something! Which of you came up with the blindfold trick just now?"

"I did," Pyrrha said. "Which reminds me, I should give this back to you, shouldn't I?" She held out Jaune's sash. "It was very helpful."

"Yes, I could see you putting it to good use," Jaune said. "Thanks for giving it back, but would you mind holding onto it for just a second longer?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said as Jaune unbuckled his belt.

"That was impressive," Arslan said. "You blindfolding yourself, I mean, not giving him his sash back. I take it you used your semblance to sense where Umber was through her armour?"

"Yes, that was it exactly."

"Your semblance lets you sense metal?" Yang asked.

Arslan looked over her shoulder at Yang. "I'd forgotten you were there," she said.

Yang waved. "Hi."

"Hello," Arslan said flatly, waving back. She turned her attention back to Pyrrha. "She didn't know, did she?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. She raised her voice just a tad to say, "My semblance is Polarity — magnetism, except that it isn't restricted solely to magnetic metals but to all kinds. To answer you, Arslan, I wasn't sure myself that it would work; I just couldn't think of any better ideas."

Yang frowned. "How come you keep your semblance so quiet?"

"Habit," Pyrrha admitted. "It's my secret weapon on the tournament circuit, and in battle, which is why I would prefer to keep it a secret even once I leave the tournament circuit, if I can."

Yang shrugged. "Makes sense. No point keeping it a secret from your tournament opponents but let the real bad guys know what you're capable of, huh? Your secret's safe with me."

"Much obliged."

"Anyway, as I said, that was impressive," Arslan repeated. "So you can't tell me that you can come up with that and not come up with anything for your next match."

Jaune reached around Arslan's head to pluck his sash from Pyrrha's unprotesting hand. "You know," he said as he tied it back around his waist. "I'm not so sure that Weiss will try to keep you at a distance. I know that she could, her semblance has the ability to do it, and it might even be to her advantage, given that you're much more of a close range fighter than you are even medium range, but if you look at what Weiss actually does in fights, that's not how she operates. Sure, she's got that attack with her laser glyphs, but that never really works very well, and she doesn't rely on it either."

"Maybe it doesn't work very well because she doesn't use it that much," suggested Penny.

"Possibly," Jaune said. "But the why doesn't really matter so much as the fact that Weiss seems to like to close just as much as Pyrrha does; she likes to hit fast, even if she doesn't hit very hard."

"That … is not how she fought against Neon," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Neon was a lot faster than you are, too fast for Weiss," Jaune said. "But look at the way that she went after Rainbow Dash; we didn't see it exactly, but I think she closed in with her. And Weiss will be faster than you in the next match; she might not be as quick on her feet, but her glyphs will make her faster. I think she'll use that, or try to."

"I," Yang said, "am not sure that I should be helping you at all, or even listening to this, because Weiss is also a Beacon student, after all, so I am gonna leave you guys to it and just say, one last time, thanks for avenging me, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled. "Have a good day, Yang."

"You…" Yang didn't finish the sentence; she just backed away, out of the corridor and out of sight; eventually, she was out of sound as well, the echoes of her footfalls on the metal floor dying down.

Pyrrha looked back to Jaune. "You think that Weiss will attack?"

Jaune nodded. "That would be my bet."

Jaune had a point; Weiss was every bit as capable of going on the offensive as she was of hanging back, and she could use her glyphs to outrun and outmanoeuvre Pyrrha. He was also correct to say that Weiss’ most impressive-looking ranged attack had not served her particularly well on the occasions when she had used it. If Weiss did as Jaune suggested, then that would help Pyrrha; she could use a deft touch of Polarity on Weiss' rapier to cause Weiss to aim her glyphs in the wrong place and then take advantage of that.

But Weiss also had the capability to adopt a defensive strategy, even if she hadn't always used it. Pyrrha, by contrast, did not have that luxury by training or equipment.

"The one thing that I cannot do is stand still," Pyrrha said. "If I do not keep moving, then Weiss will trap me in her black glyphs, or at least, I invite her to do so, and unlike Neon, I am not confident in my ability to brute force my way past them. I was not taught to use my aura that way."

"You have," Arslan pointed out. "You did it against me, with your shield."

"Weiss wouldn't give me the room to move my arms so much," Pyrrha pointed out. "And I'm not sure that I could cause it to simply explode out of me in all directions. I would prefer to avoid being caged, if at all possible, and the best way—"

"Is to never stay in one place long enough for Weiss' glyphs to catch up with you," Jaune said. "Yeah, I think you're right about that." He paused. "You could use your semblance to guide your weapons in from a distance, around Weiss' defences."

"Ooh, like Sunset did with Soteria in her duel!" Penny cried.

"That might make my semblance even more obvious, so I may make that a last resort," Pyrrha said gently. "Throwing my shield is one thing — most people think its aerodynamics are simply that good — but using my semblance to manipulate my sword in the air as easily as if it was my hand is something else. That said, Jaune, you are right about the shield; it does give me an option to hit Weiss from far off, if I can't get close to her."

"But you'd prefer to close in, right?" Jaune asked. "Use your semblance to make her miss you with her glyphs and then … take her out, I guess."

"You read my mind," Pyrrha said, smiling.

"What if you lured her in, instead?" Jaune suggested. "Let her come at you, skating towards you on a line of her white glyphs, then you disrupt the flow of those glyphs, the line is broken, she falls down and is at your mercy?"

"That … might be more likely to catch Weiss by surprise," Pyrrha said. "Of course, all of this relies on my ability to alter her aim."

"The bottom line," Russel said, as he folded his arms, "is that you can fly, and she can't."

Weiss settled back in her seat somewhat. She rested her fingertips upon her knee. "Except I can't fly," she pointed out.

"You can float, then; it's basically the same thing!" Russel declared. "You can float, she can't, and the rules say that you have to hit the ground in order for it to count as a knockout, so once the battle starts, you need to get off the platform, float in the air as far away as you can, and shoot laser beams at her. She won't be able to do a thing about it."

Seated beside him, Cardin snorted.

Russel looked up at him. "What?"

"That's a very optimistic assumption, don't you think?" Cardin asked him. "If Weiss tried that, then Pyrrha would just leap off the edge of the platform, using her shield as a stepping stone — there's something going on with that — cross the rest of the distance to Weiss before she could get out of the way, grab her by the ears, and piledrive her into the ground while turning over and over in the air and probably singing that damn Mistralian song they keep filling our ears with while she was at it!"

Weiss raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, come on," Cardin said. "I can't be the only one who's noticed that she showboats like a champ when she gets the chance. All those flips and twirls."

"Well, she is, as you put, a champ, so I suppose that gives her the right to showboat," Weiss said mildly. "As does her skill, for that matter. She flips and twirls to show that she can, because no one has the skill to take advantage of her excess movements. And she is a performance artist, after all, so she has cause. It would be like complaining that I sang at a concert: of course I did; it's what I'm there to do. At the end of the day, we're all here to put on a show for the crowds."

"Even if they hate you," Russel said.

"The crowd doesn't hate Weiss," Flash said. "Not anymore. She's won them over." He paused. "As for what you should do about facing Pyrrha … Russel and Cardin are both right: keeping your distance is the right approach, but don't get complacent about Pyrrha's inability to reach you regardless. I'm not sure there's anywhere you could go that would be completely out of her reach."

"She can't jump that high," Russel said. "Or that far."

"That's not the only problem with your idea," Cardin pointed out. "There's also the fact that Weiss' lasers…" He trailed off. "No offence, but they don't actually work very well."

Weiss' eyes narrowed. "I might have to take at least some offence," she murmured.

"Come on!" Cardin cried. "You've got lots of moves in your semblance, but that isn't one of the best. You hit Neon with a whole barrage in your first fight, and she was still up and at 'em when you were done. And you'd be as vulnerable to Pyrrha's shield as you were to Neon throwing her nunchucks at you. It's a bad idea, no matter what these two say."

"So what should she do instead?" demanded Russel. "Close in and get smacked around? Get grabbed by the ponytail and hammer-tossed into the floor?"

"Weiss can be faster with her semblance than Pyrrha is; she can cut her aura apart a little piece at a time, rushing it, hitting her, rushing back out before she gets caught," Cardin suggested. "Hit and run."

"Not a tactic I would have expected you to suggest," Weiss admitted.

"I wouldn't suggest it for me — I'm too big and slow for it — but for you, it'll work perfectly," Cardin insisted. "Just don't fall into a routine that Pyrrha can see coming, and you'll be home free, easy victory."

"I'm not sure there's any such thing as an easy victory in the finals of the Vytal Tournament," Flash said.

"This will be, so long as Weiss takes my advice," Cardin declared.

Weiss tapped her fingertips upon her knee. "You offer two possible routes I could go down," she murmured. "I admit that, while I'm not sure how much it would do to impact the outcome of the match — I can't see myself defeating Pyrrha with it — I would … I would really like it — it would delight me more than almost anything — if I were to unlock summoning during this battle, where everyone can see it."

"'Summoning'?" Flash asked.

"It's the final and most prestigious part of the Schnee semblance," Weiss began to explain.

"There's more?" Russel exclaimed. "Because all the stuff you can do already wasn't ridiculous enough?"

"Apparently not," Weiss replied in a dry tone. "Summoning is, well, it's as the name suggests; I would summon the … shade, the after-echo, a construct of aura based upon something — a grimm, of some sort — that I've killed, to fight for me."

"How does that relate to all the stuff your semblance already does?" asked Cardin.

"It's summoned via a glyph," Weiss said. "But one that I have yet to be able to master."

"It does sound cool," admitted Russel. "You get all the best powers."

"But since you can't actually use it, maybe it's best if you don't rely on it," Cardin suggested.

"I'm not sure that you should rely too much on the idea that you can be faster than Pyrrha, either," Flash added.

Cardin scowled. "Do you have any ideas of your own, or are you just going to pick at and criticise ours?"

Flash clasped his hands together over his knees. "I think … I think that Weiss needs to try and pin Pyrrha down, keep her in one place and … try and force a ring-out? But Weiss, you know your own semblance and what it's capable of better than any of the three of us; what do you think?"

Weiss did not reply for a while. Her fingers drummed upon her knee, over and over, a repetitive motion beating a silent tattoo upon her skin. I am facing Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl. I should not delude myself into thinking that this will be easy, that there is some stratagem that will sweep me to victory with barely a breath of effort.

But, as Pyrrha reminded me earlier today, the upstart hare may beat the tortoise.

Not that Pyrrha is a tortoise. And it has been a while since anyone thought of a Schnee as an upstart. But my name is a good deal less old than hers is, and I am faster than her if I use my glyphs.

This will not be easy, but I refuse to accept that it is impossible. And I daresay — I dare to hope — that Pyrrha is as filled with trepidation at the thought of facing me as I am at the prospect of our match.

This will not be easy, but there are things that I can do.

"I feel like you've all given me one piece of a strategy," Weiss said. "And that it's up to me to put those pieces together into a coherent whole, because the truth is that you're all right and all … less than right. Yes, Russel, I do have an advantage in range; yes, Cardin, I do have an advantage in speed — put like that, I sound like the favourite, don't I? — and yes, Flash, I could impede Pyrrha's mobility, and I probably should for my own benefit. Put that together and…" A smile began to spread over her face.

Flash leaned forward. "And?"

Weiss looked at him. "And I think I might have an idea."

“So, Pyrrha against Weiss, huh?” Rainbow said. “That’ll be interesting.”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, it will. You know what else would be interesting? You and Blake telling us what the White Fang were doing on the Amity Colosseum.”

“That … is not actually that interesting,” Rainbow replied.

Twilight fixed her with a gaze over the top of her spectacles. “Rainbow Dash,” she said sternly. “The semi-finals are over; the finals aren’t due to start for a while to let Pyrrha and Weiss recharge their auras. You’ve got no excuses anymore.” She looked at Blake. “Come on, one of you, say something!”

“You may as well spit it out, Sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Not much point keeping it hidden.”

“Not least because if one of you doesn’t say something, then I’ll tell them,” Lady Belladonna declared.

“Okay, okay, I…” Rainbow hesitated, because in all honesty — to herself at least — she had been putting this off; she didn’t want … the fact that Blake had decided not to say anything suggested that she didn’t want the attention if she could avoid it, and in this case, Rainbow wasn’t sure that she wanted the attention either. She didn’t really want to tell everyone that the White Fang had put a hit out on her and Blake. She didn’t want … she guessed that she just didn’t want to be thought of in that way. She couldn’t speak for Blake, but she didn’t want to be … it just wasn’t something that she wanted people to think about her. It was … the fact that the White Fang had tried to take her out was weird enough — Blake, sure, she could understand that, snitches get stitches and all that, even though if she was in Blake’s shoes, she wouldn’t want to remind everybody that she was a snitch, but her? — but letting everyone know about it, having everyone know about it, felt even weirder.

Maybe she just didn’t want that kind of concern?

She couldn’t explain it particularly well, but if she were pushed, then she would probably have to admit that, yeah, that was what it was.

But it looked like it was either this or tell Blake about the fact that their TV show was killing her mom — on TV, anyway, not in real life, thank goodness — and Rainbow would rather put that off even more than the first thing, so she said, “I will tell you.” She glanced at Blake over the heads of everyone else.

“The White Fang were here to kill Blake,” she said.

There was an immediate chorus of shocked gasps.

“Here to kill you?” Twilight cried.

“Darling, how awful!” lamented Rarity.

“How could they?” asked Fluttershy.

Blake’s golden eyes gleamed with the light of betrayal as they found Rainbow Dash. “Why— why am I the only one?”

“Yeah, Rainbow Dash, why?” asked Applejack pointedly.

“Because…” Rainbow huffed. “Because I don’t want to admit that they were trying to kill me too.”

More gasps followed.

“Trying to kill you too!” Pinkie yelled. “They were trying to kill both of you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Rainbow said.

“Yes,” Twilight said, “yes, it is a big deal; a group of White Fang terrorists sneaking on board the Amity Arena and trying to kill the two of you is a very big deal!”

“There were only a few of them, and we took care of them pretty easily, so … is it really?” Rainbow asked.

“Yes!” Twilight replied emphatically. “Why … is this because you don’t want to be seen as weak?”

“No,” Rainbow said.

Twilight stared at her.

“No, it really … maybe that’s a part of it,” Rainbow admitted. “I don’t want you to worry about me, okay; I worry about all of you, I don’t need to be worried about me.”

“But what if they try again?” asked Fluttershy anxiously.

“That,” Rainbow said, pointing towards Fluttershy. “Sorry, Fluttershy, but that, that is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you: I didn’t want you to be worrying about that, and I don’t think Blake wanted you to be worrying about that either.”

“Not particularly,” Blake murmured.

“Too bad,” Twilight said coolly. “Did you really think that you could keep this a secret? After Lady Belladonna knew?”

“And me,” Neon said.

“Me too,” added Sun, raising his hand.

Twilight’s eyebrows rose. “How did—?”

“I just wanted to hold off on it,” Rainbow said. “For as long as I could. I … just didn’t want to have…” — she waved her arms to encompass the box — “this.”

Twilight sighed as she got up and walked in front of Rarity and Applejack until she was standing by the wall, next to Rainbow Dash.

“I told you,” she said. “I told you once before, you don’t need to be the strong one all the time.”

Rainbow hesitated. “But what if I like being the strong one?”

“But why?” Rarity asked. “I mean why would the White Fang want to kill both Rainbow Dash and Blake? As unsavoury as it is, I can understand why they might want to kill Blake — no offence, darling, none at all; it’s just that you did leave their movement after all, and—”

“And you can see why they might want to send a message to a traitor,” Blake murmured.

“Exactly,” Rarity replied. “The plots of at least two Shadow Spade mysteries that I can remember hinge upon the fact that the murder victim was the member of some gang or other who tried to leave. But Rainbow Dash? Is it…” — she paused — “is it because you are … a faunus in Atlas?”

“I should hope not, or I’ll be next,” Neon muttered.

“No, it’s not because of that,” Rainbow replied. “It’s because … it’s because, according to Gilda, we’ve been … Blake, what was it she said?”

“That we’d been making the White Fang look bad,” Blake said.

“Wow!” Pinkie said. “Even I think that’s pretty childish.”

“Making them look bad?” Twilight repeated. “How could you possibly make the White Fang look bad? How could you or anyone else possibly make the White Fang look worse than they— oh my gods, is this about the SDC? Are they … are they mad that you and Blake exposed the SDC mines and saved all those faunus and they didn’t?”

Rainbow shifted a little from one foot to the other. “It seems that way.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “Like Pinkie said: wow.”

“How staggeringly self-absorbed,” Rarity observed.

“Short-sighted, too,” Shining Armor observed. “Not to diminish your accomplishment, or to say that I wish my job were harder, but what kind of thinking was it to send a team after the two of you and ignore the Atlesian councillor right here?”

“Perhaps my presence has gone unnoticed?” Cadance suggested.

“More likely, Sienna Khan wanted to send a very specific message, one that wouldn’t have been sent by the assassination of an Atlesian councillor,” Lady Belladonna said. “An act which would send a message to Atlas, certainly, but right now, today, she didn’t want to send a message to Atlas; she wanted to send a message to the faunus: salvation lies through the White Fang, follow any other path, and … you will be punished for it. She always did have an ego.”

“Sienna Khan?” Cadance repeated. “You think that she ordered this attack?”

“It seems that she would have had to,” Blake murmured. “The Vale Chapter of the White Fang didn’t organise this by themselves.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Shining Armor.

“Because I knew one of the members of the … hit squad,” Blake admitted. “And she wasn’t a part of the Vale Chapter, she served in Mistral; the High Leader must have ordered her to come to Vale and undertake this operation.”

“Doesn’t she have anything better to do than order assassinations on students?” asked Cadance. “Like advancing the cause of faunus rights?”

“In her mind, unfortunately, that’s what she thinks she’s doing,” Lady Belladonna replied. “Which means that she … she will certainly want to try again, Fluttershy, to partially answer your question.”

“That will be much harder to do in Atlas; the White Fang there is crushed,” Cadance declared. “And entrance into the city is very closely monitored.”

“I’m sure it is, Cadance, and I will appreciate the vigilance of the Atlesian authorities, for Blake’s sake,” Lady Belladonna said. “But as soon as I return to Menagerie, I mean to ensure that Sienna Khan calls off her dogs, not to mention see that she is suitably punished for having loosed them in the first place.”

“Mom, no!” Blake cried.

“Yes, Blake,” Lady Belladonna replied. “If you think that I’m going to just let the attempted murder of my daughter stand without response, then we have been apart too long.”

“Blake,” Rainbow said. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“Because Sienna is too popular to confront, for one thing,” Blake said. “The White Fang is popular on Menagerie—”

“So is your father,” Lady Belladonna said. “The people acclaimed him as their High Chieftain. Now, I admit that there is a lot of sympathy for the White Fang on Menagerie, but if I spread the word that Sienna ordered the death of the High Chieftain’s daughter for the crime of saving faunus lives in Atlas … she may not like what the people have to say about that.”

“But how will that get her to call off the assassination?” asked Cadance.

“Because Lady Belladonna means to threaten to expose her duplicitous conduct in exchange for her rescinding her barbarous orders,” Rarity said. “Don’t you, ma’am?”

“And a prize for Rarity,” Lady Belladonna said with a smile. “I’m going to tell Sienna that she can back off, or I’ll drag the truth of what the White Fang does into the light and let everyone on Menagerie judge it for themselves.” She paused. “And then, once she’s done what I want, I’m going to kill her, obviously.”

“Mom, that—” Blake stopped. “It’s too dangerous! What are you going to do, challenge her to a duel?”

“Challenge— Blake, I thought you wanted to be Atlesian, not Mistralian.”

“You are Mistralian,” Blake pointed out. “Or at least, you were.”

“Yes, but my parents lived on the lower half of the middle slope; my father was a toolmaker,” Lady Belladonna said. “So, please, dear, don’t talk to me like I’m some pampered, privileged old blood patrician with a head full of thoughts of vengeance—”

“This from the woman who just told us that she intends to murder someone,” Blake muttered.

Lady Belladonna ignored her as she swept majestically on, “Pride and honourable combat. I’m not going to offer Sienna a fair fight. I’m going to poison her.”

“Poison?!” Twilight cried.

“Poison was the weapon of the Mistralian faunus against the slave owners, back in the old days,” Rainbow murmured.

Lady Belladonna favoured her with a smile. “And another gold star, this time for Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow smiled sheepishly. “I, um, I read that in Sienna Khan’s book.”

“Oh, you’ve read Sienna’s book?” Lady Belladonna asked. “It is very well written, isn’t it? I was blown away by it when she asked me to proofread it for her. But perhaps Sienna should have reread it herself before she decided to cross me; then she would have remembered that poison was, as you say, the weapon of the slaves — and also of Mistralian aristocrats when the sword was inappropriate, which I find pleasingly ironic, I must admit.”

“Mom, you can’t poison Sienna Khan,” Blake insisted.

“Oh, I think I can, Blake; it’s just a matter of getting around her food taster,” Lady Belladonna replied airily. “As High Chieftain of Menagerie, people seek your father’s favour and his patronage, and some will do anything to attain it. Sienna may find out that her people are not as loyal to her as she might like to think.”

“Even if you could do it, that doesn’t mean that you should!” Blake insisted.

At this point, Rainbow was starting to feel a little uncomfortable; this was turning into almost some kind of family argument, the kind that you didn’t want to be stuck observing, because you couldn’t intervene in it, so all you could do was listen with ever-mounting embarrassment as two people went at it over things that were none of your business and that you didn’t want to know about.

“And why in Remnant not, after what she’s done?” demanded Lady Belladonna.

“Because I don’t want to lose you, Mom!” Blake shouted. “I just got you back, and I don’t want to…” Her voice dropped, becoming choked. “I don’t want the next message to come from Menagerie to be that you died trying to kill Sienna, or that you killed Sienna and then someone else in the White Fang killed you to avenge her. What good is that supposed to do me, or anyone else? Should I feel proud, or glad that my mother loved me so much that she was willing to die to … it’s not even avenging me because I’m not dead! I don’t feel proud, and I don’t feel glad; I just feel … I just want you to be safe.”

Lady Belladonna was silent, which was a first in Rainbow’s experience with her; she usually had an answer for everything, but this time, there was nothing. There was only silence as Lady Belladonna gently reached out and put one arm around Blake’s shoulders, drawing her into an embrace at her mother’s side.

Blake’s face vanished from Rainbow’s sight, hidden by her mother and by the way that her long, tangled black hair fell down like curtains to conceal her.

Rainbow felt a hand touch hers, a hand in hers. Twilight’s hand.

Rainbow looked at her: looking at Blake and her mother with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She looked at Rainbow, and despite the tears, there was a slight smile formed upon her face.

Eventually, Lady Belladonna found her voice again, although she’d only found it quietly, because Rainbow had to prick her ears up to hear her. “Alright, Blake. Alright, if it … if it will please you, then I will … refrain from doing to Sienna any of the things that I would like to do to her.”

“Promise?”

Lady Belladonna hesitated a second before she said, “Yes, Blake, I promise.”

Rainbow smiled slightly and decided that telling Blake about their TV show could wait, for just a little while longer.

On her way up to see her mother, Pyrrha was a little surprised to meet the Wong family coming down the stairs.

“Lady Pyrrha! Lady Pyrrha!” Soojin cried, walking down first, hands up to hold onto her mother’s hands as she descended the stairs. “That was incredible! You were amazing!”

Pyrrha leaned forwards a little, resting her hands on her knees. “Amazing and incredible? I’m glad you enjoyed it enough to honour me with such high praise.”

“It was a praiseworthy display, Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong declared. “One might almost term it miraculous.”

“One might be exaggerating somewhat in that case, my lady,” Pyrrha murmured. “Fortune was with me.”

“No doubt,” Lord Wong pronounced, from the back of the group, “but fortune often favours the prepared. I doubt you walked out onto the field blindfolded with no idea of whether or not you would have any idea of where your opponent was?”

Pyrrha hesitated a moment, but of course Lord Wong was right; it would have been very stupid to have blindfolded herself with no plan. “I had hopes, my lord; I could not be sure my hopes would be borne out, but I did not venture forth blind, if you will excuse the play on words.”

“Your victory is no less impressive for the fact that you prepared for it, perhaps moreso,” Lord Wong informed her. “The hopes of Mistral now rest upon you in the final.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “So I have been told, my lord.”

“You’ll win for sure,” Soojin said. “Won’t you?”

“Weiss Schnee is a formidable opponent; I would not like to underestimate her nor make false promise to you,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I shall certainly do my best.”

Lord Wong descended the steps to stand beside his wife. “So long since we have had a Vytal Champion in our kingdom, so long indeed. I cannot recall a time when Mistral had won glory in the Vytal Tournament, and now … now, we stand upon the threshold. If you prevail—”

“When she wins!” Soojin insisted.

Lord Wong chuckled. “When you triumph, Lady Pyrrha, the whole city will feel different. I only regret I shall not be around to witness the change.”

“I … I will fight bravely and with all the skill with which I have been blessed,” Pyrrha said, “for my own sake, for my name, and for Mistral — besides for Beacon also and my friends here, I must add — but I think that you exaggerate the importance of this. Whether I win or lose, tomorrow, Mistral will still be Mistral, as it has been these many years.”

“Mistral has been lacking in confidence these many years, and in things to celebrate,” Lord Wong replied. “Your victory will give cause for a little jubilation at least; that is not nothing. You go to call on your lady mother?”

“Yes, my lord, I do.”

“Then it is fortuitous that we are leaving you in peace for a little while,” Lord Wong said jovially. “This little one has drank too much juice and needs to go to the bathroom, don’t you?”

“She isn’t the only one,” Lady Wong murmured softly.

Pyrrha smiled but said nothing, because there seemed to be no response required in the circumstance. She kept the smile upon her face as she stepped aside to let Soojin and Lady Wong pass her, and Lord Wong to once again bring up the rear.

As they went down, Pyrrha headed the opposite way, resuming her climb of the stairs towards her mother’s box.

Once more, she found Hestia waiting for her.

“Congratulations, young mistress,” Hestia said as she stepped aside.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered in return as she walked into the box.

With the Wongs having departed for the bathroom, Mother had the box all to herself when Pyrrha arrived. She was on her feet, standing at the edge of the box with both hands — her cane was resting against the metal wall — placed upon the shining handrail, spread out a little away from her as she seemed to lean against the edge of the exclusive box, looking out across the vacant arena down below.

She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. “Pyrrha,” she said. “You are alone?”

“Given how little you said to Penny or Jaune, it seemed hardly worthwhile to drag them up here,” Pyrrha replied. Especially if all Jaune was going to get from it was a degree of condescension.

“Is it so very strange that I should wish to talk to you, not them?” asked Mother. “Come, stand with me.”

Pyrrha did as her mother asked of her, standing at the railing with her hands folded, one across the other, and her wrists resting on the railing.

She looked down for a moment, but the sight of the arena empty, without anyone there, or any fight about to begin, was a rather uninteresting one, and so she looked at her mother instead.

“I … spoke to Sunset,” she said softly. “After what you said … I apologised. I felt it was only right and proper.”

“And how was your apology received?” Mother asked, not looking at Pyrrha.

“With grace,” Pyrrha said. “And great kindness, as is Sunset’s nature. She is a gentlewoman.”

“Indeed,” Mother said. “When this tournament is over, I should like to speak to Miss Rose.”

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “I … and what will you say to her?”

Mother sniffed. “Do you fear what I will say?”

“Somewhat,” Pyrrha admitted. “Have I no cause to fear it? It was not so long ago that you spoke of giving Ruby a piece of your mind. Should I not suspect that you have not changed your mind?”

“I have not changed my mind, and I would have Miss Rose know what my mind is,” Mother declared. “I would have her know that Miss Shimmer deserved more loyalty than she was shown.”

“I … I think that Ruby does not care for loyalty,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, Ruby’s only loyalty is to the people, not to Sunset or to any of us. Her mind will not be changed, even as yours has not.”

“That is her right, but I will be heard nonetheless,” Mother insisted.

“To what end?” Pyrrha asked. “What good will come out of you two yelling at one another, both deaf to the arguments of the other?”

“I will not be cowed to silence by fear that some Valish girl, of no family even by the low standards of this kingdom, will not like what I say,” Mother declared. “Do you fear that what I say will reflect badly upon you; is that why you would have me stay silent?”

“No, Mother, I … you must do as you think best, of course. You will, at any rate.”

“I shall indeed,” Mother said. “I … owe her as much, I think.”

I think Sunset would not want you to have a row with Ruby, Pyrrha thought.

Mother paused for a moment. “How does it feel?” she asked. “How does it feel to stand on the threshold of glory?”

“Knowing that only Weiss stands in my way?” Pyrrha asked. “Without wishing to dismiss or underestimate Weiss, it feels … rather good, I must admit. Almost wonderful.”

“'Admit'?” Mother repeated, and now she looked at Pyrrha. “You say that as though you are ashamed to be proud of your accomplishments.”

“Not ashamed,” Pyrrha murmured. “But a part of me would rather be humbler than this.”

“'Would rather be' or thought yourself to be?” Mother asked. “You liked to presume that you were above the base desires for fame and glory that moved me, didn’t you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “It is more that the glories Mistral offered me had grown stale, and so I presumed that all the glories of arenas would similarly have so little effect upon my spirit. I … was wrong. This place … this place and the fact that it is my last tournament; combined, those two things … I want to win. I want to win the crown, the last and greatest crown, before I lay all crowns and other trophies to one side.”

Mother was silent for a moment. Silent and still. Then a smile embraced her wrinkled lips and made new lines around a much-lined mouth. “I am glad to hear it. I would question your wits were it otherwise, but, since you have made many decisions that I find baffling, I am glad to hear it.” Again, she took pause. “And what then? When you have won—”

“I may not—”

“You will win,” Mother declared. “You will be the champion of this tournament.”

“Is that a command?” Pyrrha asked.

“That is my confident prediction,” Mother replied. “But when you have won, what then?”

“Then?” Pyrrha asked. “Then I will complete my next three years here and become a huntress.”

“In Vale?”

“In Mistral,” Pyrrha told her. “Mistral is my home; I could not leave her.”

“And Mister Arc, will he come with you?”

“Yes, we have … discussed it,” Pyrrha said. “In which case … if you could call him Jaune—”

“As a huntress, will you also have time or inclination to learn how to follow in my footsteps as head of the Nikos family?” Mother asked. “One day, hopefully not too soon, but one day, the burdens of the family will fall to you, to tend to our wealth and prestige until the time comes for you to descend to the shades in turn and pass our lineage on to your children by … Mister Arc.”

Even were Professor Ozpin to place heavy demands upon me, I am sure that I could fit it in; Ruby’s mother managed to raise a family while serving him, after all. “Is that what you would have of me?”

“What I would have of you?” Mother repeated. “What I would have of you is … almost ended now. All that I wished and desired has near come true, and you are still so young.” A sigh escaped her. “I was never the Champion of Mistral. I resented grievously the injury that had forced my retirement, while telling myself that I might have achieved greatness had it not been for that accident, but in truth, perhaps the accident spared me humiliation and the fate of Phoebe Kommenos.”

“I am sure that you were more talented than Phoebe,” Pyrrha murmured. “You won some acclaim, some tournaments.”

“I did,” Mother said. “But I was never the Champion of Mistral, or the Vytal Champion; I never won any of the great games. All I wished for, all that I desired, was a child who would do better than I had done. But the gods gave me a child who would be better than I ever was.”

A gasp burst free from Pyrrha’s lips; she could not contain it, any more than she could stop the widening of her eyes. Mother had never spoken to her like that, at least not that she could recall, and surely, she would recall something so rare.

“For … truly?” she whispered.

“I do not speak to flatter your vanity,” Mother said. “But to speak only truth, as we come to the end of the road of ambition. On the day that you were born, when I felt all my strength and vigour leave me and enter you, as I grew so much older than I should have grown … it should have been clear to me that you would be more than the sum of my ambitions for you.” She paused. “All that I have ever wished for you, you have delivered, though you have not always wished it yourself. And today, I have no doubt, you will achieve my last desire for you and be crowned and acclaimed and acknowledged as the greatest fighter of your day, in any kingdom in Remnant, to strut the arena. And you will still be but eighteen years old. Eighteen years old and with no more ambitions of your mother’s to concern you. You will be—”

“Free,” Pyrrha whispered.

Mother’s eyebrows rose. “Bound only by honour and decorum, and what is appropriate for a young woman of your birth and station,” she reminded Pyrrha. “But, within those bounds, whatever you desire, I will support, or at least, I shall endeavour to do so.”

Pyrrha stared at her mother. She had never … she had never given thought to such a moment as this, although it should have been the obvious question: what would her mother want of her once she had won the Vytal Tournament?

And it seemed the answer was … nothing. Nothing but what Pyrrha herself might wish, constrained by Mistralian culture and tradition.

And it was wonderful. Every bit as wonderful as being a finalist.

It was not just a crown that waited for her if she defeated Weiss.

Other, far more glittering prizes were hers for the taking.

She only had to fight for them.

Author's Note

Growing up in a country that hadn't won any tournament in the game it invented since the 1960s was a great help to me in writing about how the Mistralians feel about Pyrrha and her chances in this final (we'll see whether things change now the Lionesses have brought home the Euros). It's a bit exaggerated, obviously - I don't know anyone who actually danced around a kitchen singing Three Lions (It's Coming Home) but the spirit is true to life, I think.

Cover Her Face, Mine Eyes Dazzle (New)

Cover Her Face, Mine Eyes Dazzle

Amber's hands trembled.

She was full of anticipation; she was afraid. She was nervous; she was filled with hope. She regarded the future with a sense of great longing; she looked with dread at what was soon to come.

She felt both weak and strong. Her hands trembled. She nearly let go of the book in her hands and let it fall to the floor.

Fortunately, she did not; that might have alerted Ruby to the fact that there was something going on.

Amber's mind, Amber's heart, Amber's spirit, one and all three were awash with emotions, swirling and mingling in turmoil and tumult within her. This was the day. The day had arrived, and the hour drew near.

Soon, she would be free.

Soon, the city would descend into chaos.

Soon, she would be away from Ozpin and all the rest, free to live as she wished, love as she wished, and be no one's pawn or puppet but her own person again at last.

Soon, she would betray Ozpin, and Pyrrha, and Sunset, and everyone else who had been so kind to her, who trusted her.

Soon, she and Dove would be together, with no obstacles, nothing to stand in their way, nothing to take them away from one another.

Soon, she would give up the Relic of Choice to Salem and make an enemy of all those who called her friend.

Had she not reason to feel both fear and hope in equal measure? Had she not reason to anticipate but also dread?

She anticipated freedom, she hoped for freedom, she longed for it, she dreamed of it. She dreamed of what it would be like for her and Dove, once they were free, a part of no wars, no secret battles, once there was no one to trouble them, only themselves. They could live…

If they were truly free, then they could live anywhere, anywhere they wished, but it was not entirely so, was it? That was the cause of Amber's dread, the cause of her fear, the reason that she did not regard this day with unalloyed hope. If she had been only escaping, then that would have been one thing, that would have been the best thing, that would have been something that Amber could have faced with a smile; but it was not so. Amber was not just escaping with Dove. She was only escaping, freely and truly, from the threat of Salem; she would give up the relic to Salem's followers, and in turn, Salem, having no more use for the Fall Maiden, would trouble her no more. Cinder, Tempest Shadow, Bon Bon, all of them gone. She would leave them all behind. The weight of them would be lifted from her shoulders.

And all she had to do was give up a crown during the confusion of a battle — and betray her friends.

They were her friends. Sunset, Pyrrha, Ciel, Blake, sweet Penny, and handsome Jaune, she really did care about them. It wasn't a game that she was playing; it wasn't something that she was putting on, some calculated deception to make her life easier. They were her friends, her first friends, besides Dove, in the whole world — that she could recall, anyway. She had not known many people growing up; at least, if she had, she didn't remember them. Her mother had kept her distant, isolated. That had probably been Ozpin's doing, to make it easier for him to use her as he wished.

But the point was, the point was they really were her friends; she really did care about them. Sunset had saved her life; Pyrrha had been so kind and gentle, and she and Jaune were such a lovely couple that it would be such a shame, the most terrible shame, if any harm were to befall either one and leave the other heartbroken; Ciel had been kind also, kind and patient, and she and Blake had shared their makeup and their makeup tips with her; and Penny was just such a sweetheart you couldn't not like her. Amber cared about them, all of them; she didn't want them to die protecting her; that was one of the reasons she was doing this.

The fact that there would be, that there would have to be, some sort of battle in order for there to be enough chaos and confusion for her to escape was something that she felt guilty about; the guilt of it was giving her twitches of pain in her stomach, like indigestion, and a sour taste in her throat when she swallowed, like bile or the vestiges of acid reflux. She didn't want them to get hurt, and she hoped, she really hoped, she hoped with all her heart that they would survive the night to come unharmed, that no ill would come of the fireworks that Bon Bon and Tempest had planned, that nothing would come of it beyond her own escape, her freedom.

She didn't want them to get hurt. She didn't want them to hate her either, but she … she had to admit that … she was resigned to the fact that they probably would. They would hate her because she had betrayed them, and Amber would deserve to be hated because she had betrayed them. She might not have meant to, she might have only meant to betray Ozpin — who deserved to be betrayed, if anyone did — but she would be betraying them as well. Sunset had saved her life and given up her bed for Amber, and the rest of Team SAPR had welcomed her into their dorm room, they and Team RSPT had both been willing to risk, to give their lives in Amber's protection, they had fought Cinder for her sake.

And she would betray them. How could they not hate her after that?

She knew that they would hate her … well, at least, they would judge her for it, and judge her harshly. Even Sunset, who might have been the most forgiving of all of them if she'd been here, would have judged her for it; Sunset had judged herself, after all, and judged herself so harshly that she had gone into exile for what she'd done; Pyrrha had spoken fondly, and in a very lovely tone, about how much she cared about Sunset and would miss her, but she hadn't stood by her when Sunset needed her, she'd only stood aside and let her go.

And as for Jaune and Ruby … the thought of Jaune's anger, his rage, the way that it had seemed like he was going to hit Sunset; the thought of that rage being turned on her made Amber shiver; for all the powers at her command, she didn't want that fury to be turned on her. Jaune had calmed down, by the time that she and Pyrrha got back, after Dove had talked to him — for which she was grateful, to Jaune but even more to Dove — but at the same time, that didn't make Amber feel safe around him if he knew what she'd done.

She didn't feel safe around any of them if they knew; that was why she couldn't tell them. If they had forgiven Sunset, if today had been like all the other days, if Sunset were still here — or at least up in the flying arena watching the tournament — then she would have told them all by now. She would have told them all, and thrown themselves upon the mercy of people whom she had to believe to be supremely kind, and thus, supremely forgiving.

But they had shown themselves to be not quite all that forgiving, and for that reason, Amber had no choice but to launch herself upon this perilous course, to venture everything for her liberty.

But they would hate her for it. And Amber would deserve their condemnation, for it was … it was a wicked thing that she did, for all that she been ample course, and no recourse else.

Let me be wicked rather than be a slave to Ozpin one day longer.

That dream troubled her. Last night, she dreamed that she had dined with Ozpin, her and Dove sitting together at a table in his office, at the top of his high tower. The sky had been dark, with no stars visible around them, and there had been cracks on the floor, and the walls, and on the panes of the glass in the windows, as though the whole thing were about to fall apart at any moment, to crumble beneath their feet. And yet, there they sat, drinking red … Amber thought it must have been red wine, though she had never tasted it awake, and if it was anything like the sour taste that it had possessed in her dream, she never would either. It was just a dream, of course, but Pyrrha thought that it might have meaning; she thought it was a sign that she should actually think about having dinner with Ozpin. Amber was more afraid that it meant that Ozpin would search for her, and drag her back to Beacon, and force her to dine with him before he punished her.

There was no reason for him to come after her, once the relic was gone. Once Salem had the Crown, then a Fall Maiden was as useless to Ozpin as she was to Salem, and yet, after what she had done, Amber could not help but fear that he would send out his agents to hunt for her, to drag her back to Beacon to punish her. Amber wasn't sure what form the punishment would take, but neither did she want to find out.

He would not let her live and love free of his disapproval.

Would they be willing to go after her? Would they hate her so much that they would hunt her down, or try to? Amber wasn't sure. Would Sunset, would Pyrrha? She didn't know, but she knew of at least one of them who would: Ruby Rose.

Amber had liked Ruby well enough; she hadn't been Amber's favourite, but Amber hadn't disliked her, by any means. Not until last night. Not until she had seen Ruby for what Ruby really was: cold and cruel, with no love in her heart, no sympathy, no understanding. Ruby would never understand why Amber had to do what she would do tonight; she would not forgive it. True, Amber wasn't a huntress, but she was the Fall Maiden, and as such, it was her duty to secure the vault and the relic, even if that meant enslaving herself to Ozpin all her life. That, at least, was how Ruby would see it.

If anyone would come after her for what she had done, it was Ruby. Amber had no Councillor to protect her, or to require Ruby to stifle her wrath and keep silent for the sake of avoiding political turmoil; she didn't have a headmaster who would calm the waters for her — at least she wouldn't, after tonight — there was no reason for Ruby to hold back and nobody who would restrain her.

Amber would be free from Salem and her followers, but she would have to watch her back for Ruby Rose; that constant fear would hang over her like a dark cloud, a blight upon her life, a shadow over her liberty.

Not to mention someone who would be hard to escape from tonight. Getting away, getting the relic, escaping with Dove, it would all be very hard with Ruby Rose beside her. The protection that Ozpin had gifted her — the protection that she had not minded because it was comprised of her friends — had become another cage of his to bind and restrain her.

If she was to escape, then Ruby would have to be put aside before the fireworks began.

Amber had possessed some hope that, having decided to leave Beacon and seek out pastures new, Ruby might go away right now.

Get lost, if you're not happy here. Fly out the door and far away and don't look back to see what I'm doing behind you.

But Ruby had not left, and showed no intention of leaving; duty, that awful ball and chain to which she expected all others around her to encumber themselves, held her here. She would not leave until her duty was discharged. There was no chance of her leaving Amber and Dove alone just because she didn't want to be here anymore.

Amber glanced at Dove. He, too, kept looking at Ruby, kept glancing in her direction. He liked her, she knew — he liked Ruby more, in Amber's opinion, than Ruby deserved; it might have made her jealous under different circumstances; it did make her a little jealous; what did that self-righteous little girl have that he should look so admiringly upon her? — but he had to realise how difficult it would be for them to escape unnoticed with Ruby there. He had to understand that they needed to do something about her if they were to stand any chance of slipping away without the alarm being raised.

He had to realise that there was no other way.

As Amber watched him, she saw Dove's eyes stray down to the hilt of his sword which he wore at his hip. He scowled and shook his head, if only a little so that Ruby didn't notice. He looked up and caught Amber looking at him.

The scowl remained on Dove's face, joined by a slightly guilty look in his blue eyes.

Amber shook her own head slightly. You don't need to do that. There's a better way.

She looked away from Dove and towards Ruby, who was pacing up and down the room. She was impatient, it seemed. Impatient to be away from here, or just impatient to tell everyone that she was leaving? Either way, she was pacing up and down. She wanted something to happen, even if Amber wasn't sure what that something was.

Whatever she was waiting for, whatever she was hoping for that she was so eager to see happen, Ruby wasn't going to see it.

Amber slowly and unobtrusively — she hoped — raised one hand a little.

She activated her semblance before Ruby could notice or react. Golden light, little motes of light that gleamed and shone, rose lazily out of her hand. They rose a little less lazily once Amber put more of her aura into it, urging them on to haste and swift results, but nevertheless, they did not move fast. Hers was not a swift semblance; her mother had said that it was appropriate that a semblance that put people to sleep should be a lazy one, that moved sluggishly like someone struggling to bestir themselves from bed in the morning, but there were times — when Cinder and her henchmen had confronted her had been another such a time — when Amber wished that it could act more swiftly.

But, though it did not act swiftly, it acted all the same, all the motes of golden light streaming out of her hand to float like pollen on the breeze, like dandelion fluff when you blow on it, across the dorm room. Dove began to yawn, though Amber wasn't even aiming at him and was actually trying to avoid him; nevertheless, some stray motes of light drifted towards him, floating around him and then descending down onto the floor or onto his head or shoulders. But most of them continued to drift across the dorm room, drifting further and further away from Amber until they reached Ruby. They danced around her like fireflies, golden light surrounding her, golden light slowly falling as Ruby would soon fall — and fall asleep.

Ruby stopped pacing as the gleaming motes of gold began to swirl around her. She turned to face Amber, even as the dancing golden lights obscured small patches of her face, floating in front of one eye, and then the other, landing on her red-tipped hair.

"Amber?" Ruby murmured, her speech seeming to slow already. "Amber, what…?" She blinked rapidly, and as she blinked, it looked to Amber that her eyelids grew heavy, that she couldn't open her eyes as much as she had done just a moment before. "What … what are you…?" She put one hand to her face. "Stop it, Amber, I don't…" Her last words came out slurred, rendered almost beyond understanding by the yawning in her voice, Ruby's mouth gaping open even as her eyes snapped shut.

Ruby staggered sideways a step and a half, swaying uneasily this way and that before she lost her balance completely and toppled to the floor with a thump that made Amber glad the building was more than half empty.

Dove yawned, his body sagging forwards as though he might follow Ruby to the floor. "Y-you … you…"

Amber hopped up, crossing the distance between them in moments and leaning forward to kiss him gently, a light touch of her lips against his to undo the effects her semblance had on him. It was not the only way that she could dispel her semblance — either cheek or the forehead would do — but she wanted to kiss him on the lips, so she did.

Dove's eyes widened as his alertness returned and sleep's fog dispersed at once from his mind. "Amber! You—" He looked at Ruby. "I see," he said softly. "I suppose that was necessary to make sure that she didn't interfere." He sighed, his head bowing forward for a moment. "Thank you."

"Thank me?" Amber murmured. "For waking you?"

"No, for … that," Dove replied, gesturing towards Ruby. "I was afraid that I would have to fight her, or worse, attack her by treachery. Neither prospect was very appealing to me."

"I know," Amber whispered. "Even if you could have done it silently and without anyone realising anything, I wouldn't ask you to do that. I know that you like her, although I can't imagine why, and so I wouldn't ask you to fight her, not even for the both of us. Not when there are much better ways."

Dove nodded. "She's very brave. I both do and don't envy her courage. I wouldn't want to be her, but I admire her from a distance."

From a safe distance, Amber thought. Well out of her way.

Dove took a step towards the sleeping Ruby. "How long will she stay out like this?"

"Until I release her, or my aura breaks," Amber said.

Dove looked at her. "There's no time limit?"

"I … I don't know," Amber admitted. "I've never just put someone to sleep and then left them there." Although perhaps I should have used it on Ozpin, then I wouldn't be in this position. "Most of the time, I used it on my mother, to help her sleep, when the pain made it too uncomfortable for her. Maybe she'll wake up after a certain time, or when I get a certain distance away, but I don't know."

Dove frowned. "So … Ruby could end up like this … forever?"

"It won't come to that," Amber told him. "She won't…" She swallowed. Knowing what she had to do next didn't actually make it easy. "Ruby won't be like this for long."

The frown remained on Dove's face. "What do you mean?"

Amber left him, walking towards Ruby, where she lay beneath the window, with the late afternoon sunshine — fading but golden, golden like the lights of Amber's semblance, golden like autumn leaves — falling down upon her. Falling down upon her like the light streaming out of an open door, open to welcome her.

She looked so young. So young and so pale; pale, or fair. Either would do, depending on the circumstances, but right now, as she lay there with her eyes closed, the fading light streaming down upon her, to call her fair seemed a more fitting descriptor. She had a fair complexion, a fair face framed by hair of black and bloody red. A fair face with a spirit bloody red lying behind. But a fair face nonetheless. A fair face and a youthful one, now that all the hardness that made her seem so stern and cold had fled.

So young and fair, to be so cruel.

So young and fair to spread your wings for heaven.

It might have been better if she had been awake for this. Amber could have dealt with the waking Ruby who had banished Sunset, revelling in her torment, easier than she could with this young slumbering Ruby, this sleeping child, this soft-cheeked youth so fair.

"Amber?" Dove asked.

Amber didn't reply. Her eyes were dazzled; she blinked back the stinging tears that welled up in them. She had to cover Ruby's face, that young face, that face that in repose pricked at her conscience like the spindle of a spinning wheel. She stepped over Ruby and grabbed hold of the curtains, drawing them shut so forcefully that she nearly wrenched them off the curtain rail, or else yanked the rail itself out of the wall. The room was plunged into half-darkness, but these school curtains were not so thick that they kept out all the light of the day; a faint, red-tinted light yet stole into the room, casting everything in shades of deep rouge.

"Amber, what's going on?" asked Dove.

Amber still didn't reply. She stumbled over Ruby, but Ruby didn't stir; she remained asleep no matter how ill-used she was while she was sleeping, and it didn't bother her the way that Amber almost tripped over her on the way across the room. She switched on the lights.

"Amber, what are you doing?" demanded Dove. "Please, will you answer me?"

"I'm doing," Amber began, then paused for a moment or two. She bent down and picked up a pillow from off the camp bed by the door. She gripped the pillow in both hands, squeezing it with her fingers. It was very soft, with a lot of give to it. It would suffice, she hoped. "I'm doing what I have to do. I'm doing what our safety demands that I do."

She walked back towards Ruby. Her steps were slow, her metal boots and greaves felt heavier than they had done before, they weighed upon her feet and legs like stones. Each step was slow and weighed down on her. It felt like agony to reach Ruby, slumbering on the floor, and kneel down beside her with the pillow.

She looks so young.

I wish I didn't have to see her face.

Amber knelt down beside her and began to raise the pillow.

"Amber, no!" Dove yelled, leaping over Pyrrha's bed to land with a heavy thud on the other side of Ruby from her. With both hands he reached for the pillow. "Amber, what are you doing?"

"Not what I wish, but what I must," Amber declared, her voice cracking. "I'm sending Ruby to sleep, forever."

"You mean you're killing her," Dove said bluntly. "You're going to smother her with that pillow until she stops breathing."

Amber swallowed. "Yes," she whispered.

"Amber," Dove whispered. "Amber, you…" He let go of the pillow but reached for Amber's arms instead, pulling her upright, dragging her away from Ruby until her prone and sleeping form did not separate them. "You can't do this," he said. "You mustn't. You're talking about killing someone!"

"I know that!" Amber cried. "I know what it is, I know what I'm doing, and I know how terrible it is, but I don't have a choice! We don't have a choice! She'll come after us, Dove, you know she will."

"We don't know that."

"Yes," Amber replied. "Yes, we do. You saw how she acted when she found out what Sunset had done, you saw how she treated Sunset; what will she do to us when she finds out what we've done?"

"That's why she's asleep and can't stop us."

"But if she wakes up," Amber said. "If she wakes up and finds out about all that we've done, then she'll hunt us down."

"That doesn't mean that you can murder her!" Dove shouted. "For God's sake, Amber, she's fifteen years old!" He took a deep breath. "Amber … I love you—"

"And I—"

"Let me finish," Dove said, quietly but firmly. "Please."

Amber swallowed. She suspected that she might not like this, but she nodded. "Go on."

Dove closed his bright blue eyes for a moment. "I love you," he repeated. "I've always loved you from the moment that I stumbled across you in the forest. What's happened to you, what's been done to you, it's terrible. I hate it, and I understand — I completely understand — why you want to get away from it all, and that's why I'm still here, even though what you're doing, the people you've turned to for help, none of it would be my choice. But it's your choice, and I love you, and so I'm with you, all the way, but this? This is … it's too much. It's too much, Amber, and I won't stand for it. I'll have no part in it."

"But I'm doing this for us," Amber insisted.

"No," Dove said firmly. "No, you're not, not this." He hesitated. "If you do this, if you go through with this, then you'll have to kill me too, because that's the only way you'll stop me walking out that door and telling Professor Goodwitch everything."

Amber stared at him, dumbstruck for the moment. He was … he was going to leave her? He was going to turn on her? Dove was going to betray her? Sweet Dove, handsome Dove, gentle Dove, Dove who had spoken to her so fair, Dove whom she had yearned for and longed for and wished upon a star for, Dove was…

Dove was telling her that she was wrong.

Perhaps she ought to listen.

But she was afraid.

"She'll come after us," she whispered. "She'll hunt us."

"And if she finds us, then I'll protect you," Dove promised. "I won't let her hurt you, and if it comes to a fight, then I'll do what I have to do, but not like this. Not like this; it's too much, and it isn't you."

"What if it's what they've made me?" Amber asked.

"It isn't," Dove insisted. He took a step closer towards her, pushing his chest against the pillow in her hand. "I know that you're scared. I know that you're so, so scared. But I also know that, in spite of all that you've been through, you're still the same Amber I met in the forest. The Amber who couldn't bring herself to slaughter a pig or a lamb, or shoot a deer."

He reached up and stroked her face, the scarred side of her face, the ruined side, the side that Cinder had marked for the rest of Amber's life.

A tear fell from Amber's eye to descend her face and land upon Dove's thumb. Then another, and another, and tears from her other eye too, a flood of tears that stung Amber's eyes, tears welling up for what she had been about to do, for the fact that she had almost killed not only Ruby but also the last trace of who she had been when she'd been happy.

What have I become?

The pillow fell from Amber's trembling hands as she stumbled forward, falling into Dove, who stood firm as a rock as Amber laid her hands upon his shoulders and pressed her face against his chest. His armour was hard and cold to her skin, but Amber felt that she might deserve that.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I know," Dove said softly as he put his arms around her.

"I was afraid," Amber said. "I'm so afraid."

"I know."

"I want to get away from here, I need to," Amber insisted. "I need to find somewhere that I can be myself again, find or … or remember who I am. Or who I used to be."

"And you will," Dove promised. "We will, together. We will be safe, and we will be happy."

Amber looked up at him. "Together?"

Dove nodded. "Together."

"Even … even after—?"

"After what?" Dove asked. "You didn't do anything. You stopped. You remembered who you were."

Amber didn't reply. She felt too weak to reply. Too weak even to stand by herself as she collapsed against him and let Dove take the burden of supporting her.

"We … we should probably hide Ruby somewhere," Dove suggested. "In case anyone comes in looking for her — or for us. I'll put her in the closet."

"That's probably a good idea," Amber murmured, and she allowed Dove to guide her to one of the chairs sitting by the desk against the wall. She sat there, leaning against the wooden back of the chair, and watched as Dove picked up Ruby bridal-style and carried her to the large closet on her right, on the other side of the room from the bathroom.

Dove placed Ruby inside, sitting up, tucking her legs up a bit so that he could shut the door and hiding her behind some of Pyrrha's formal gowns, which dropped from the hangars down all the way to the floor and, when shoved together in a riot of emerald, gold, and crimson, concealed all of Ruby save for the tips of her boots.

He shut the door but stayed facing it. "What if … she won't stay like that forever, will she?"

"I don't know," Amber could only say, as she had said before. "I don't think so, because my aura will run out eventually. It doesn't take much, but it takes a little, and over time—"

"Yes," Dove said. "Yes, I understand." He hesitated. "That's good," he went on. "If she wakes up eventually, then that … that's good." He chewed on his lip for a second. "I suppose we should let Bon Bon know about this, that Ruby's … that she doesn't need to worry, or send Lyra around with any half-coded messages."

"You do it," Amber said. "Please."

Dove's brow furrowed for a moment — Amber didn't think he was any fonder of Bon Bon than she was — but the furrowed brow disappeared, and Dove got out his scroll.

It didn't take him long to call Bon Bon.

Amber shuddered. Bon Bon was another one that she'd like to smother with a pillow, and unlike Ruby, she didn't think Dove would stop her.

But that's not me. That isn't who I want to be.

With time, and freedom, I will be me again.

Bon Bon answered, her face appearing on Dove's scroll. "Dove?" she squawked. "What are you—?"

"You don't need to worry about Ruby; she won't be … an issue any more," Dove told her.

"She won't … is she dead?" Bon Bon cried. "Did you kill her?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then why are you talking like she's dead, why are you calling at all, where is she?"

"She's asleep, and she's going to be asleep for a while," Dove explained. "Amber used her semblance on her."

There was a moment of pause. "Amber's semblance puts people to sleep?" Bon Bon asked.

"Yes," Dove replied.

There was another pause. "Huh," Bon Bon said. "So Ruby is out the way."

"Yes," Dove said. "Literally."

"Good, that will make things a lot easier when the time comes," Bon Bon said. "Okay, so here's the plan…"

And We're Not Gonna Stop (New)

And We’re Not Gonna Stop

The afternoon was gathering on in Vale, but in Mistral, hours ahead, it was already night. Darkness had fallen some time ago over Mistral and Argus and all the lands that lay between, albeit darkness disturbed within those cities by the myriad lights that burned within the houses.

Selene and Diana had never been allowed to stay up this late before, not ever. But neither Mom nor Dad had told them to go to bed, or that they should, or that they had school tomorrow or anything. They couldn't go to bed, not now, not without seeing.

Not without seeing Pyrrha win and be crowned champion.

Adrian, too young to be mindful of the historic nature of this night, of the way the hopes and dreams of Mistral hung upon what was about to happen, had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, and his head was lolled to one side, turned a little away from Terra. His little hands were curled up into tiny fists, and his legs were tucked up at the knees.

Terra smiled down at him — hoping, she had to admit, that he wouldn't wake up sometime in the night and start crying — as she gently lowered him into the crib. A lot of said crib was taken up by a large blue penguin plush they'd gotten at the aquarium, and as soon as one of Adrian's hands brushed against it, he turned that way, gurgling wordlessly as his hands groped unconsciously for the stuffed animal.

The smile on Terra's face widened. "Sleep tight," she whispered, so as not to wake him.

She turned off the lights in his room on the way out, plunging his world into darkness.

She shut the door, too, to keep the noise down for him as much as possible.

The lights were still on in the rest of the house, down the stairs as Terra descended, and in the living room and kitchen, where the television was on — not so loud, as another concession to their son — and the oven, too, as Saphron straightened up with a tray of fried chicken wings in her hands.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"He's still fast asleep, no problems," Terra said. "Although I should probably try not to scream too much when Pyrrha brings home the crown."

Saphron smiled. "And I remember when I thought I was the emotional one in this relationship."

Terra chuckled. "I … the closer it gets, the more real it gets: that this is happening, and that it's happening to someone that I know personally." She walked towards her wife. "This has been a dream for Mistral for so long, and I don't just get to see it; I'm part of it. And the closer it gets, the more amazing I feel or realise that is."

Saphron put down the chicken wings. "This really matters, doesn't it? For Mistral?"

"It's our national sport," Terra replied. "More than that, it's our national passion, the enthusiasm of the kingdom. Yes, it matters. Plus … who doesn't like to win stuff?"

Saphron laughed. "That's a good point. So I've set this last match up to record so that Adrian can watch it when he's old enough to understand — and so we can embarrass Pyrrha with it when she comes to visit by making out that you're much more of a fan than you are." Saphron grinned. "I think I'll tell her that you watch it every day."

"My mom just might do that," Terra said.

"And," Saphron added, picking up her scroll and waving it about with one hand, "make sure to make a funny face so I can take a picture and show Adrian what other Mommy looked like when Auntie Pyrrha brought it home."

Terra chuckled. "I'm sure that something suitably embarrassing will come to my face when the moment arrives. And it will be worth it. It will be well, well worth it."

It was appropriate, at least to an extent, that the public showing of the Vytal final should be held in the Square of Heroes; a great screen had been erected on one side of the plaza, cordoned off by metal barriers and raised above the heads of the spectators, to broadcast the match on a grand scale for all those who were gathered there. And it was a great crowd that was gathered there, men and women crammed into the square, scrambling up onto the plinths of the statues, hanging onto the bronze and marble likenesses of Publius Rutulus, Achates Kommenos, and other heroes of Mistral's illustrious history. Some of those heroes had been garlanded in Vytal merchandise of various degrees of taste: laurel wreaths in expectation of the victor's laurels that — all Mistral hoped — would soon adorn the head of Pyrrha Nikos; Haven Academy — the fact that Pyrrha was a Beacon student was being tacitly overlooked — hats and scarves; Pyrrha wigs and those cheap plastic circlets that they sold in costume shops.

Camilla was unsure of the appropriateness of it all, but who was going to do anything about it? Who was going to tear the wreaths and hats and scarves and all the rest down off the statues? Nobody present in the square tonight, that was for sure.

Around the crowded plaza, such an atmosphere prevailed that you might almost think that Mistral, not Vale, was hosting the Vytal Festival, as the streets and smaller square around were crammed with the exact same sort of vendors that one saw in fairgrounds, or at festivals, or one of those Mantle Markets that toured Anima in the wintertime selling traditional northern fare of large beer and larger sausages. In fact, Camilla thought that she could see some of those people here right now; certainly, she could smell sausages, and much else that smelled good besides: pancakes, crepes, candied fruits, fresh-baked tarts, fried dormice upon skewers. She tried to control the watering in her mouth.

Perhaps coming here would not be so bad after all, although it would not have been her first choice. They could have just as easily watched the finals at home, after all — they had a perfectly good television — but Turnus thought that it would be good and appropriate to be seen at such a moment as this, and he had a point that, traditionally, the great games were enjoyed publicly, not in the private comfort of one's own house. And so they had come, Turnus in a black toga mottled with white lines, worn over an orange tunic with black spots, and Juturna in a short black dress matched with very high black boots, and wrist cuffs adorned with colourful feathers to offset the darkness. With them, and Camilla of course, were Lausus, Silvia, Aventinus, Tarpeia, Tulla, Opis, and Ufens.

"Such a crowd," Opis muttered, her head turning this way and that as they walked down the road. "Such a crowd. Keep your hands on your purse, m'lady; this place will be a pickpocket's paradise, you mark my words."

Juturna gave no sign that she had heard her. "So much smells good here; what do you want to eat first?"

The truth, perhaps, about how you know Lionheart, Camilla thought; she was certain that they had not spoken at the Steward's reception, when Juturna had met Ruby. If she had, then Camilla liked to think that she would have noticed it.

Perhaps I am not as observant as I should like to think.

Or perhaps there is more going on that Juturna is silent about.

Either way, now is hardly the moment to raise it. Not in public, nor in this company; Lausus was almost part of the family, but less so than Camilla, with all due humility, reckoned herself, and as for the rest? They were good men and women, but they were Turnus' retainers, and it would not be fitting to question Juturna in front of them.

If it was appropriate to question her at all. She was, after all, the lady of the house until such time as Turnus wed, and Turnus had made his own position on the subject clear enough, first by welcoming Lionheart and then by his words to Camilla herself. What would be the point in pressing the issue? Better perhaps to simply keep an eye on Lionheart and hope that her misgivings proved without foundation.

Silvia sniffed the air. "I think I can smell pigeon."

"'Pigeon'?" Opis scoffed. "Ugh."

"What's the matter with pigeon?" Silvia demanded. "It tastes great!"

"Woodpigeon might taste fine enough," Opis said, "but I'm not going to take the chance that it isn't just some bird from the streets that was killed this morning; it would be like eating rat, it's what you resort to when you can't afford anything else. There's lots of nicer things you could have."

"They should have put the screen up in the Colosseum," Aventinus lamented. "Then you could have had the crowd in the stands, and it would have felt just like a real Mistralian tournament."

Aventinus was a tall man, half a head taller even than Turnus — although that still didn't make him the largest man amongst the Rutulians — with amber eyes and red hair, although the latter was concealed behind the lion's head that he wore like a hat, with the rest of its pelt descending like a cap down his back. His father had been a great gladiator and huntsman, a Champion of Mistral whose record of three consecutive triumphs had stood for a generation until Pyrrha Nikos had broken it, but although Aventinus possessed his father's square jaw and solid features, he had not turned out to possess his father's talent in the arena, and his career there had been somewhat indifferent before he retired and joined the Rutulians.

"You could only fill half the Colosseum," Tarpeia pointed out. "The other half wouldn't be able to see the screen."

"Two screens?" suggested Aventinus.

"If everyone was sitting down, then they might as well stay at home," Juturna declared. "And you'd miss out on all this: the food, the atmosphere. It's like we're having our own little Vytal Festival right here in Mistral."

"This will certainly be a night long remembered," Turnus said. "Provided that Pyrrha wins, or we shall look great arrogant fools."

"She'll get it done, my lord," Aventinus assured him. "She's not just better looking than my old man in his prime, she's better than he was. Faster, without losing much for strength."

"We'd best hope so; your father lost in the Amity Arena," Ufens muttered. "I remember what a disappointment it was. He stayed in Vacuo for three months after the festival was over because he didn't dare show his face back home."

"He was fighting grimm all that time," Aventinus said. "Finding himself again, finding his purpose, getting his head back in the game. He used to tell me losing in the Vytal Tournament was the making of him, made him rethink who he was and all his choices." He paused. "Mind you, he also told me it was all his teammates' fault for letting him down in the four-on-four, so maybe he just had a list of excuses."

"We need to have faith," Lausus said. "We've got the most gifted candidate in years fighting for us."

Juturna grinned. "Says the guy who bet against her in the doubles."

"And see how the gods rewarded me for it," Lausus said. "Clearly, they're on the side of Pyrrha Nikos, for they certainly weren't on mine."

"The gods have raised Mistral's expectations in the past, only to dash our hopes," Camilla murmured. "But Pyrrha Nikos appears to be blessed by fortune, not only in the arena, but in her life. All things, when she requires them, go her way; all things that she desires, she had attained and more." Lucky, lucky Pyrrha Nikos. "She will, no doubt, attain this also, and give all Mistral what both we and she both crave: the prize of glory."

"The mob is celebrating in the streets as though she has already won," Shining Light declared, her lip curling into a sneer.

"The people," Terri-Belle said pointedly, "have little enough to celebrate else; let them celebrate this. What is the point of a public holiday if not to get people spending their money on food and drink, putting lien in the pockets of the peddlers and the tavern-keepers?"

"Even if she turns out to be a traitor?" Blonn-di asked in a sing-song voice.

All four daughters of the Steward were gathered in Terri-Belle's office. Terri-Belle sat at her desk, while Shining Light and Blonn-di stood on either side of the room, each leaning against the wall in nearly, but not quite, identical expressions of studied casualness. Swift Foot stood near the door, hands clasped behind her back, trying not to hunch her shoulders or bow her head in the presence of her older sisters.

It was hard work. The presence of Shining Light and Blonn-di made her want to make herself smaller and less conspicuous as though there were a weight pressing down upon her, a weight which was anxious to avoid anything that might attract their attention.

For her eldest sister's part, Terri-Belle did not reply, nor even look at Blonn-di, or Shining Light, or any of them. Atop her desk, one hand clenched into a fist. "If Pyrrha Nikos … if she is revealed to be as father fears she is, then … I fear that it will bite the people either way. Even if she loses this match, she is still the beloved Champion of Mistral."

Former champion, Swift Foot thought. Metella the Ocean Knight is the Champion of Mistral now. But she did not say so, partly because she understood Terri-Belle's point well enough without straying into pedantry and partly because Shining Light and Blonn-di were there.

"And though they will be disappointed by her failure at Vytal, they will forgive her for it; after all, they have become practised enough at forgiving the failures of Mistral's great hopes, who reach even to this final step only to falter at the last."

Shining Light smirked. "You think they've forgiven you?"

Terri-Belle glowered at her.

The smirk died on Shining Light's face. "Yes, indeed, these are serious matters, and not to be joked about. Forgive me, sister."

Terri-Belle breathed in deeply. "As I was saying," she said, "the people, being practised at it, will forgive her; she will have their love yet, even though some among our elites gloat over her failure." She scowled, and Swift Foot wondered if she was recalling the gloating which followed her own failure at the last stroke. "And then, when the truth comes out … if it will bite as deeply whether she wins or loses, then it might be better if she wins; at least, the people will have something to celebrate."

"Even if it raises her reputation with the plebeians, her influence with them, higher and higher, with all the risks that that entails?" Blonn-di asked. "Even if she becomes more of a hero to them than she is now?"

"Let her become a hero to the crowds," Shining Light said. "Let her be acclaimed, and honoured, and cheered through the streets. She will not be the first great hero, beloved of the commons, who became a danger to the kingdom through their pride, their ambition, their overweening popularity." The smirk returned to her face. "Nor will she be the first hero who was raised to the skies to protect Mistral, and to protect the people from the hero whom they loved so well."

In Mistral, it was already night, but in Vale, it was still the later afternoon, although the darkness was gathering apace; clouds in the sky added to the gloom as the sun descended, and the lights of the Atlesian warships began to gleam all the brighter as the darkness fell. The lights of the Emerald Tower had already begun to burn, and would burn throughout the night 'til dawn broke and sun returned, just as they had done through every night since Beacon was established.

Would they not?

Aoko opened a bag of chips.

Kendal reached down and snatched them out of her hands. "Don't eat now, Aoko; you'll spoil your dinner."

River's hand reached into the bag, as surreptitiously as possible considering the two sisters were sitting next to one another.

Not surreptitiously enough.

"River!" Kendal snapped.

"I'm eating for two, remember," River reminded her, before she put the chips in her mouth. She crunched upon them, chewing noisily for a few seconds before she added, "And I might have cravings for all you know."

"Cravings for…" Kendal looked down at the bag. "Salt and vinegar crisps?"

"They are very moreish," River insisted.

"River's been craving all kinds of things," Chester added. "Little mint chocolates, strawberries dipped in chocolate, chocolate roll—"

"You're going to get so fat," Violet said.

"Violet, please," Rouge murmured. "There's no call for rudeness."

"Can I have my chips back?" asked Aoko.

"No," River said, taking the bag out of Kendal's hand. "It's for your own good, Aoko, trust me."

"So, Dad," Sky said, turning to face their father, looking away from the TV as they waited for the final match to start. "What does Pyrrha get for winning this thing? Is there a money prize?"

"Pyrrha doesn't need money; she's loaded," Kendal pointed out.

"Maybe she is, but a little more money is always nice to have, right?" asked Sky.

"I think she's so loaded, she's at that point where a little more money wouldn't make any difference," Kendal replied. "I mean, look at that dress she wore to Dad's party; she didn't buy that in a thrift store. And she's a princess, remember?"

"A princess without a crown," Sky said. "All that proves is that her ancestors were made, not that she is."

"I'm with Kendal on this, Pyrrha's pretty made; you only have to look at the way she dresses," River said. "Jaune's set for life."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Rouge murmured. "It makes Jaune's motives seem awfully mercenary. As though he's only involved with her for her wealth."

River winced. "Sorry, Rouge. You know I didn't mean anything like that. Jaune's not…" She stopped herself.

Jaune isn't like your asshole husband, that's what you were about to say, right? Kendal thought. Rouge had started the divorce proceedings, but Reuben had failed to find the one chivalrous bone in his body and was contesting it, refusing to let her go. Their lawyer was handling the details, and Rouge would get there in the end — she might have been willing to put up with Reuben's infidelity, but that hadn't stopped her from collecting proof — but the wheels were turning slowly. Sky thought Reuben was dragging it out in the hope the Arcs would pay him off for a swifter resolution, but there was no sign yet that Rouge was seriously entertaining the idea. Kendal didn't blame her; the idea of giving him money after what he'd done and how he'd treated her — not to mention what he'd tried to do to Jaune — made her skin crawl.

But it was still best not to mention him around her, just like it was probably best not to talk about marrying for money. Especially since River was right: Jaune wasn't like that at all.

"Even if Pyrrha is absolutely loaded, not everyone who wins this tournament will be, and the prize doesn't care if the winner appreciates it or not," Sky said, getting the subject back on track — probably a good thing, for Rouge's sake if no one else's. "So, Dad—"

"There's no money," Dad said. "If you win the tournament, you get a wreath placed on your head, you get the glory of having won, and you get the bragging rights, that's it."

"'That's it'?" River repeated.

"It's not supposed to be about the prize or the reward," Dad explained. "The same way that you don't become a huntsman for the rewards or because you want to get rich. Or at least, not for the material rewards. The Vytal Tournament is about keeping people working hard, reaching out to be the best, striving, not just settling or getting by."

"What about striving towards a reward?" asked Violet.

Dad shrugged. "I guess, when they set the whole thing up after the war, they didn't want to give people the wrong kinds of incentives."

"So, when Pyrrha wins and becomes the champ, she gets to say that she's the champ, basically?" Sky said.

"And a golden wreath," Dad reminded her. "But other than that, you're right."

"Sunset seemed to find the glory nothing to be sneezed at, when she was with us," Rouge pointed out. "And Pyrrha must find it all worthwhile to keep going, or else I don't see how she could motivate herself through all these fights. If there was nothing in it for her, if she didn't fancy the idea of being recognised as the winner even a little, I think that she'd have given up by now."

Lieutenant Martinez watched as the car pulled up across the street from where she and Mallard sat in their van. Some cars, she might have found suspicious, but she recognised the walnut brown Raptor Racehorse, with its sleek bodywork and low elevation, as belonging to Sergeant Weatherley from Captain Harmon's squad; with him in there was probably their Menagerie liaison officer. Liaison with who or what, Martinez wasn't entirely sure, and for that matter, she wasn't sure why Harmon's squad needed a liaison with any nebulous people on Menagerie, but if Harmon wanted to keep her around, then that was his shout.

The two were there to relieve her and Mallard. She could drive off now, if she wanted.

Her hands and feet remained where they were.

"El-Tee?" Mallard asked, from the seat next to her.

"Mmm," Martinez murmured wordlessly.

"You don't want to go, do you, Lieutenant?" Mallard asked.

"No," Martinez said bluntly. "I don't want to leave until this thing is over."

"However long it takes?" Mallard asked.

"You got somewhere to be?" Martinez asked. One corner of her lip twitched upwards. "Hot date for the last day of the Vytal Festival?"

Mallard snorted. "Chance would be a fine thing with these hours."

"If you want it to work, if you both want it to work, then you'll make it work," Martinez said.

Although, she reflected after she'd said that, she had gotten very lucky with Mike. A lot of guys wouldn't have been so understanding. It probably helped that he didn't exactly work nine-to-five himself — some days, he was home, and sometimes, he was at sea for days on end — so they both had to be patient and put up with the inconvenience. As she'd said, they wanted it to work, so they made it work.

"If you say so, El-Tee, but the only girls I meet are all wrapped up in criminal investigations," Mallard replied.

"Investigations end," Martinez pointed out. "If you meet someone you like … they might surprise you."

Mallard's eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

"Not the ones who are guilty, obviously," Martinez said. "But someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, someone who turned out not to be involved, there's no rules against it, nothing wrong with it." Her smile widened. "And I've noticed a couple of them looking at you while we've been questioning them."

"Really?" Mallard asked. "Which ones?"

"Oh no, I'm not telling you that; you're going to have to do the work on this yourself," Martinez said. "Which you can do, because I'll let you go if you want out, but I'm gonna stick around; I don't feel right leaving."

"You don't want to go home?" Mallard asked. "Watch Weiss in the tournament final?"

"Is that what you want?"

Mallard shrugged. "I was thinking about it."

"What I'm thinking about," Martinez replied, "is how I'd feel if I went home and sat down to watch the tournament final and then the match was interrupted by the news that someone had blown up this power station. Or all the lights going off in our house because somebody blew up this power station. That's why, relief or not, I'm going to stay here for a little while longer; I don't want to leave until it's actually all clear."

Mallard nodded. "When you put it like that, I guess I don't really have anything better to do." He reached around the back of his seat, and Martinez heard a rustling sound before he produced a bag of cheese puffs. "Good thing I bought snacks, huh?"

"I might be glad of those later tonight, but I'm good for now," Martinez said as she got out her scroll to call Mike.

"How do you think she'll do?" Mallard asked. "Weiss, I mean? The girl she's up against, Pyrrha Nikos, they say she doesn't lose fights like these."

"Yeah? Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't that what they say?" Martinez asked. "Just because she hasn't been beaten yet just means she hasn't come up against Weiss yet. She'll make us proud, I've got no doubts. None at all." She called Mike, audio only, holding her scroll up to one ear as it rang.

It took Mike a few seconds to pick up. "Y'hello?"

"Hey, Mike, it's me," Martinez said.

"Oh, hi, honey, how's it going?"

"Not good," Martinez said. "I'm not gonna be home for dinner tonight."

"Because they're keeping you in — or out — or because you could come home but you can't tear yourself away from the job until the job is done?" Mike asked.

Martinez sighed. "You know me so well, don't you?"

"I'd better; I am your husband after all," Mike said. "You want to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure that I can, because I don't understand it myself," Martinez muttered.

"So you want to stick around until you find out what 'it' is," Mike said.

"Sorry."

"If you came home, you'd just be jittery all night thinking about work," Mike said. "The boys will be disappointed, but they'll understand. Shall I save you something for when you get in?"

"You're a saint," Martinez said. "A saint who I need to ask another favour from: can you set the tournament final up to record? I'll watch it later."

"Even if your girl loses?"

"Even if, although I hope she doesn't, yeah," Martinez said. "Because win or lose, I'm sure she's gonna put up one hell of a fight."

"It's the moment you've all been waiting for!" Professor Port bellowed, his words getting a cheer from the crowds in the stands. "Will Pyrrha Nikos and Weiss Schnee please make their way out for our finaaaaaaal match?!"

One more match.

One more match, and then I am finished.

One more match, and a door closes.

One more match, and I am free. From my mother's expectations, at least.

One more match — one more victory — and I have fulfilled them all. There is nothing more that she requires of me.

Except grandchildren, I suppose, but that is … that will be more onerous to my body, I think, than to my soul.

One more match.

"What are you smiling about?" Penny asked as Pyrrha got to her feet.

"Hmm?" asked Pyrrha, who hadn't realised that she had been smiling.

"You were smiling," Penny informed her, smiling a little herself. "Like you knew a secret."

"That's partly true," Jaune said. "Although I would say … you were smiling like you weren't really here, like you were … somewhere else."

I was already past this match and living my life. "I…" Pyrrha began. "It's something my mother said; I will explain later, if you're still interested."

"So it's not you working out how you're going to beat Weiss?" asked Penny.

"No," Pyrrha said. "I do have my ideas on that, but this … later. Assuming you haven't forgotten already."

"The more cryptic you are about it just makes me want to find out more," Jaune said. "But I get that you have to go, so—" He got up, and took both of her hands inside his own. "You don't owe Mistral anything—"

"I heard that!" Arslan shouted from behind him. "Yes, she does! Yes, you do! Mistral is your home and hearth and—"

"Ignore her," Jaune said, cutting her off. "You don't owe Mistral anything, or Arslan or the other Haven students or me or Penny or any of us. You don't owe us anything at all, and you certainly don't owe us this. But do you want this?"

I want to win. I want to win the biggest fight in the biggest arena. I want to bow out on a high note, the highest of high notes. I want to take my leave with my head held high and my pride intact. I want to satisfy my mother for good and all so that she will let me get on with satisfying myself.

That, perhaps, I want most of all.

In fact, there is very little perhaps about it.

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. Her voice became louder and firmer as she spoke again. "Yes, I do."

"Then go for it," Jaune said. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. "You've got this."

Pyrrha felt Penny wrap her arms around her, just below Pyrrha's own arms, squeezing her tightly, but not as tightly as she had been wont to do even very recently.

She learned really very quickly.

I am so blessed with love and affection.

"I'm so glad you're here," Pyrrha said quietly. "So very glad."

Penny released her, and Jaune let her hands fall, and as Jaune sat down again — Penny sat down too, but only Jaune was interrupting Pyrrha's line of sight by standing up — she could see Arslan, arms folded across her chest, glowering at Pyrrha.

Or she had been glowering at the back of Jaune's head, and now she was glowering at Pyrrha.

"I could go on a rant about how your dopey boyfriend over there is wrong," Arslan said.

"'Dopey'?" Pyrrha repeated, her voice sharpening just a tad, just a hint. A hint for Arslan to take if she had the ears for it.

Arslan paused. "He's wrong," she said. "Harsh word, okay, I put my hand up and apologise," — she did indeed hold up one hand — "but he's wrong. And I could tell you all about why he's wrong and how much you owe Mistral…" — her jaw worked sideways like a horse chewing the cud — "but if you want this anyway, then I don't suppose there's a lot of point. Just go and win this thing."

Pyrrha considered her response. The truth was that, as nice as it was for Jaune to inform her, remind her, tell her, however you wanted to phrase it, that she had no obligations to Mistral, the fact remained that it was her home, and it would always have a claim upon not only her affections but also herself. She had told him as much, in Alba Longa, and he had not demurred then, and nothing that had happened to her since then had changed her thoughts or feelings on that.

She might not owe Mistral a victory, but she could not really say that she owed herself one either, except in the sense that she wanted it badly; she did owe Mistral her best efforts, and she would give them.

But Jaune had spoken in an attempt to make her feel better, to lift perhaps some of the pressure off her and let her enjoy this fight, and Pyrrha didn't want to contradict him. And so, rather than resolve those contradictions, she said nothing; she just nodded.

She could feel the eyes of not only Arslan, but of the other Haven students — Medea, Jason, Meleager, and all the rest — upon her as well, but none of them spoke to her as she set off, this last time. She supposed that there was nothing left to say, nothing left for her to be reminded of. Either she would exit the arena at the end of this match as champion, and Mistral's long dry spell would be over; or she would not, and it would not.

That, at the end of the day, was all there was to it. It was win or lose, as, ultimately, in every tournament.

And so she took her leave of them, of all of them, heading towards the stairs, where Weiss was waiting for her.

"I hope you don't mind the company," Weiss said, in a somewhat diffident tone. "Would you rather that I go first, so that we can venture out separately like real rivals?"

"Not at all," Pyrrha said. "I would be glad of the company."

Weiss turned slightly and began to walk side by side with Pyrrha down the stairs; Pyrrha could not help but lean back a little to get a better look at the state of Weiss' bolero. In truth, it was not much of a state at all, far less than Pyrrha had expected, considering what Weiss had done in the semifinals.

"If you'll permit me to say, your bolero is looking in very good condition," Pyrrha said as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Weiss looked over her shoulder, one hand reaching for her back, as if feeling to confirm that Pyrrha spoke true. "Yes," she said, "it is, isn't it? I have one of Rainbow Dash's friends to thank for that."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Is that why you stepped out of the stands a little while ago?"

“Yes,” Weiss said, “that was exactly why.”

Weiss stepped down off the last step into the corridor, and there found a young woman, about her age, waiting for her, whom she presumed to be Rainbow and Blake’s friend that they’d mentioned could help with her outfit. Rarity, they’d said her name was.

She presumed, because the other girl didn’t give her the chance to introduce herself or get the other girl’s name. Rather, she clasped her hands together, half bowed from the waist, and said, “Miss Schnee! May I say what a great honour it is to meet you like this. Thank you for giving me the opportunity, no, thank you for giving me the honour, no, the privilege—”

Weiss held up one hand. “Let me just stop you there,” she said. “I appreciate that my family name may … go before me, for good or ill, especially to a fellow Atlesian. But, unlike some Schnees, I don’t require a constant diet of flattery and sycophancy. In fact, I might even say that I’m allergic to it. Like gluten.” She held out the hand that she had used to call a halt to the babbling. “And it’s Weiss to my friends.”

The other girl looked at her for a moment, silently, and in her silence giving Weiss time to appreciate the ways in which she was a model Atlesian … model. Pale complexion to the point of pallor — even more so than Weiss herself — long hair expertly and elegantly rolled and curled at the tips, blue eyes — Weiss had those too, of course — and a stature that, while not being quite as tall as Pyrrha or Rainbow Dash, nevertheless had a statuesque quality about it.

Weiss might have been jealous, if she was the sort of person to succumb to jealousy.

The girl smiled, making her eyes sparkle. “Rarity to my friends,” she said, as she took Weiss’ hand in her own. Her grip was warm, and firm too, putting Weiss somewhat in mind of a businessman’s handshake.

“Please, forgive me, Weiss,” Rarity said. “It’s just that one so rarely gets the chance to actually meet a Schnee, and as you say, your name does come before you.”

“For good or ill,” Weiss reminded her.

“Things seem to be going better on that front, if I may say,” Rarity said. “At least, that’s what I’ve observed, or heard. People are, or appear to be, starting to recognise your accomplishment.”

“My accomplishment including beating your friend,” Weiss pointed out. “And yet, you want to help me anyway?”

“Oh, darling, Rainbow Dash would be the last person who would be a poor sport about something like this,” Rarity assured her. “Besides which, as a true fashionista, I am sworn to assist with all fashion emergencies, no matter who they happen to belong to.”

Weiss raised one eyebrow.

Rarity smiled down at her.

The corners of Weiss’ lips twitched upwards as she shrugged off her bolero. “Well, if you’re willing and able, I can’t deny that this thing could use the help. Its valiant service was much appreciated, but not without cost.”

“Hmm, yes, I can see that, darling,” Rarity murmured, as she plucked the bolero from Weiss’ hands. She held it up to the dim light in the corridor, the dim light which shone through the bullet holes that Rainbow had made. “Still, I think that I can safely say it’s nothing that a little thread and a needle can’t fix.”

“It turns out she’s very talented,” Weiss said.

“I can see,” Pyrrha murmured as they descended the stairs. “You’re very fortunate. Although I daresay you would have managed with a damaged bolero.”

“It would have made a statement, for sure,” Weiss said. “Whether it’s the sort of statement I want to make is … another question. It felt a little odd wearing something with holes in it, as though my wardrobe had moths.”

Pyrrha chuckled softly as they walked down the corridor towards the battlefield. Their footsteps echoed on the metal floor, one pair ringing — or seeming to ring — out louder than the other, although it was of course impossible to tell which pair it was.

Weiss’ hand drifted towards the hilt of her rapier for a moment, and then fell back down to her side once again. For her part, Pyrrha felt the urge to grasp at her sash where it fluttered beside her, and probably for the same reason that Weiss reached for her blade: for that little touch of reassurance.

“It’s funny to think,” she said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between them, “that this will all be over soon.”

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “One way or the other,” she added pointedly.

“I spoke truly this morning,” Pyrrha replied. “I take nothing for granted.”

“I believe you,” Weiss said quietly. “I believe that you’re not a liar, not intentionally at any rate.”

“But you think that I may be an unintentional liar?” Pyrrha asked.

“I think that your stated lack of certainty is not matched by many, many even in our section of the stands,” Weiss pointed out. “Your teammates, the Haven students—”

“They support me—”

“All of Mistral supports you, it seems,” Weiss declared.

“That is an exaggeration,” Pyrrha replied. “There are some who would like nothing better than to see me fail, the more embarrassingly the better. If you were to catapult me out of the arena as soon as the match begins, I have no doubt there are some in Mistral who would praise you for it.”

Though one less than before, now that Phoebe is dead.

“Ah, yes,” Weiss muttered. “Envy. As a Schnee, I understand that.” She paused, and once more, her hand rose slowly upwards to the hilt of her sword. “I understand it all the more because … because I envy you, too.”

“You?” Pyrrha almost stopped from the surprise; she thought she must have misheard, but misheard what? What had she heard instead? What had Weiss said, other than that. “You envy me?”

“Should I not?” Weiss asked. “What should I not envy about you? What is wrong with you, what troubles do you labour under, that are so bad that they make your life not a life to envy?” She paused. “I understand that I’m not walking around in your shoes and greaves, but form the outside, from where I stand, you have … the most perfect life, or … perhaps 'perfect' is the wrong word—”

“I would say so, yes,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“But you are loved!” Weiss declared, turning to face Pyrrha as the words burst like wild horses out of her mouth. “You are beloved, and by so many! A whole kingdom — or, if not the whole, then the greatest and most vocal part of it — cheers you on! And you have skill enough that you can prove yourself worthy of the hopes they heap upon you and beneath you. You are raised up to the skies, and yet, at the same time, if ever elevation rendered you remote, that time is passed. You are beloved. You have a boy who, if he would not have been my choice, seems to make you happy and is clearly devoted to you; you have good friends… where is your disadvantage?”

I am a soldier in a war that cannot be won; my best friend has departed, and I must bear the shame of having failed to defend her when she needed a defender, after all the aid and comfort she has rendered me; Professor Ozpin asked me to sacrifice my soul in an attempt to save the Fall Maiden’s magic and keep it out of the hands of Cinder. “I would politely agree that you aren’t walking in my shoes,” Pyrrha said delicately. “But I would also have to concede that I am very fortunate.” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face, and hoped that it didn’t offend Weiss. “Yes, I am a very lucky girl. But, and this is where I presume to step into your boots, you do not seem to me to be so much more unfortunate than I am.”

There was a touch of laughter in Weiss’ voice as she said, “I doubt very much that Atlas is foursquare behind me and my victory in this match, or that they have embraced me as their own, despite my being a Beacon student.”

“If you think that my being the great hope of Mistral is the chief or even one of the major causes of my happiness, I’m afraid you don’t know me very well,” Pyrrha replied lightly.

“Yes,” Weiss admitted. “Yes, I’m beginning to think that. When we first met, when I approached you in the locker room before Initiation, I thought — I hoped — that we might be kindred spirits. Both famous, in our own way, for our own reasons, and both … set apart. Isolated from others, from our peers. I hoped that, if we were to partner up, then we might be alone together, as it were. But you … you’ve broken the mirror, and seen what lies on the other side.”

“And you have not?” Pyrrha asked. “You speak of my being beloved, of my having friends, but what about you? You have Flash and the rest of your team, no?”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “No. I mean, I am very fond of Flash. I’m very fond of my team, even Cardin, as much as he has infuriated me from time to time.”

“Then it seems to me that we have both broken through to the other side of the mirror,” Pyrrha said, although she had to admit that she didn’t quite understand Weiss’ metaphor.

“Your mother came to see you perform in this tournament,” Weiss pointed out.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “That … if you knew my mother, then you might not see that as unalloyed cause for envy.”

“Ah,” Weiss said. “I see. Well…” She smiled. “Thank you for reminding me that I have my own reasons to be happy.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha said. “Shall we go on?”

“Yes, we shall,” Weiss replied. “We shall go on, and do our best.”

They walked the rest of the corridor, down the tunnel towards what light still shone down upon them through the gap in the arena roof. It did not look so bright as it had this morning when she and Arslan had come this way, or even when she had been about to face off against Umber Gorgoneion.

A little light remained, but the daylight was fading and required augmentation from the spotlights that ringed the arena ceiling. A harsher light than the light of the sun, and one which did not travel so far into the tunnel.

"It will be night soon, or dark at least," Weiss observed. "For the best. Fireworks are difficult to see in the daylight."

If there are any fireworks, Pyrrha thought. If the grimm do not come. If Salem does not move against us. If … if, if, if.

If we are fortunate, then there will be fireworks. If we are fortunate, then there will be a true and fitting end to this festival, and to this year.

Weiss glanced at Pyrrha, as though she was expecting a response from her; she seemed, after some time, to decide that there was no such response forthcoming, and she said, "Well, I know that you and Arslan went down together, but then came out separately. Shall we do the same?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "Let's leave side by side, if you have no objections?"

Weiss smiled. "None at all."

They left together then, side by side, emerging out of the tunnel and into the — half-artificial, half-natural — light, emerging to the sound of a crowd that was the loudest it had ever been — at least, it sounded that way to Pyrrha's ears — a crowd that roared, a crowd that thundered, a crowd that drowned out all but itself — and yet, Pyrrha still fancied that she could hear Jaune's voice, cutting through the clamour like a bolt of lightning.

"You've got this."

Pyrrha and Weiss walked to the central hexagon, there splitting up, Pyrrha heading east and Weiss going west until they were facing each other across the flat and open space.

"I wish we still had the terrain for this," Weiss observed, having to shout just a little bit to be heard above the din.

Pyrrha shook her head. "I do not," she replied, having to raise her voice in turn. "This is a true battlefield for a tournament."

"But not for a huntress," Weiss answered.

"This is it!" Professor Port yelled, as the rest of the arena floor beyond their hexagon retracted, withdrawing with the grinding of gears and the growling of engines into the recesses of the Amity Colosseum. "Three days! One hundred and twenty-eight huntsmen and huntresses! Thirty thrilling and spectacular matches! And it all comes down to this!"

He paused for cheering, and he got it, whooping and hollering falling down upon the heads of Pyrrha and Weiss as they were lowered upon their platform down into the pit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the final of this, the Fortieth Vytal Festival Tournament!"

"As someone quite experienced with this kind of thing," Weiss raised her voice above the tumultuous crowd, "does it ever get old?"

"Yes," Pyrrha answered plainly. "I'm afraid it does."

Weiss snorted. "Then I suppose I should be glad I won't be doing it long enough to reach that point."

"Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!" Professor Port bellowed.

Pyrrha pulled Miló out from behind her, holding the spear one handed and brandishing it above her head in acknowledgement of the crowd.

"Weiss Schnee of Beacon!"

Nobody booed Weiss now, or at least if they did, then they were easily drowned out by all the cheering for her. She had won them over, it seemed. Perhaps Atlas had gotten behind her after all.

Their names, and their aura levels, appeared on the boards visible from all around the arena; Pyrrha glanced that way and saw that both she and Weiss had, over the break, recovered most of their aura. They were both in the green, both so close to having all their aura that it made little difference. That was good; she would rather not have it said that she won this fight because Weiss was worn out from her earlier battles. If she won this fight.

"Three! Now for pride!"

Weiss stepped forward into a fencing stance, one hand upon the hilt of her sword.

"Two! Now for glory!"

Pyrrha pulled Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her left arm, her legs bending as she brought up her shield before her, Miló drawn back for an underarm thrust.

"One! Now for the championship and the laurel crown! FIGHT!"

Pyrrha began to run, legs pounding on the grey surface of the hexagon as she dashed straight at Weiss.

Even before Weiss had drawn her sword from the sash at her waist, she threw up her left hand to conjure a black glyph squarely athwart Pyrrha's path.

Pyrrha vaulted over it in a great leap, hair and sash alike flying around her as she rolled in the air, landing on one toe and twirling in place as she made to throw Akoúo̱— but she didn't. The feint, the familiar gesture from Pyrrha's prior matches, made Weiss conjure a second black glyph right in front of her, costing her time and aura as Pyrrha resumed her charge momentarily unimpeded.

She had covered more than half the distance between them when Weiss, her rapier now drawn and in her hand, slammed the blade point down into the ground. A cone of ice erupted out from the spot where the metal met, covering the surface of the hexagon in a sheet of ice that rippled and spiked upwards — and which would cover Pyrrha's feet as well if it touched them. Pyrrha leapt aside, her kick carrying her to the left, past the ice.

Towards a black glyph which Weiss conjured directly in her path. Another began to appear above, and another below, forming a box in which Weiss would trap her.

Pyrrha threw her shield, Akoúo̱ flying from her hand to strike the black barrier glyph, rebounding off it like a rubber sheet and flying back unerringly towards Pyrrha. Pyrrha rolled in mid-air, tucking her legs in above her belly and chest, presenting her feet to her shield; a faint black outline embraced her left hand as she slowed Akoúo̱ down just a tad, just a little so that its impact on her feet didn't hurt so much. It knocked her back all the same, but not so much as when Pyrrha kicked off the flying shield, backflipping in the air, arms outstretched on either side of her as she flew over the ice, over the grey metallic surface — black glyphs pursued her, Weiss seeking to trap her in mid-flight, but also too slow, always in the right place for where Pyrrha had been, not where she was — and landed upon the very extreme northern edge of the battlefield.

She slammed Miló down into the ground, point first, jamming it into the arena floor and gripping it with both hands.

Weiss flew towards her, gliding with winged speed over a line of gleaming white glyphs, rushing onwards with her sword thrust outwards like a lance – the lance she meant to use to knock Pyrrha off the battlefield and end this fight in a single move.

She came on fast, very fast, but not quite fast enough — just before she would have struck home, Pyrrha kicked herself off the floor and used Miló, thrust into the ground, as a pole around which she spun. She saw Weiss' eyes widen in surprise as her glyphs carried through the spot where Pyrrha would have been. She saw Weiss start to turn her head towards her as Pyrrha spun around her spearshaft to come up on Weiss’ flank.

She saw Weiss' mouth begin to open as Pyrrha kicked her in the side with both legs hard enough that it was Weiss, not Pyrrha, who went flying off the hexagon.

Pyrrha spun again, completing a half-rotation before planting her feet down on the ground — a foot or so away from the edge — and pulling Miló up out of the floor. Weiss' aura was dented, but she was not out — as she had against Neon Katt, she had conjured up a glyph to stand on before she hit the bottom of the pit and was officially knocked out.

A stairway of white glyphs, shining ever brighter as the natural light dimmed, appeared around her, climbing upwards without getting any closer to the battlefield itself.

As Weiss climbed, she kept her eyes glaringly fixed on Pyrrha.

Pyrrha didn't stand around waiting to see what Weiss would do next; she moved, and as she moved, she saw a black glyph appear beneath the spot she had been standing a moment ago, a black glyph that turned to a dark and angry red and would have catapulted Pyrrha up into the air if she'd stood still a moment longer.

That was why Pyrrha had to keep moving. If she stopped, then she placed herself at Weiss' mercy — and at the mercy of the black glyphs that followed her or tried to pre-empt her, trying to stick her to the floor, trying to box her in. Pyrrha's boots scuffed and shuffled on the ground as she dodged and darted this way and that, trying to stay one step ahead. With her free hand — Akoúo̱ lay on the floor, and Pyrrha made yet no move to recover it — she gripped her crimson sash, holding it tight to her waist, because it would be a fine thing if her fluttering trailing sash got caught in a glyph and pinned her down, wouldn't it?

I just hope that she doesn't think to — or can't — grab my ponytail. If I was caught and beaten because of my hair, I think I should have to cut it off, not to mention hide my face from Mistral for at least three months like Hercules.

And what would Jaune think of me with short hair?

As she leapt lightly over one of Weiss' glyphs, Pyrrha risked the briefest glance in Weiss' direction; Weiss stood yet upon one of her white glyphs, suspended in mid-air, sword held lightly by her side as she used her off-hand to conjure up her black glyphs, gesturing casually in Pyrrha's direction.

Pyrrha had a plan, or at least, she had an idea of the next few moves, but before she could make them, before she could begin, ideally, she needed Weiss to grow bored of wasting her aura on these black glyphs that were never going to catch Pyrrha, and try something else.

Aren't you getting a little impatient, Weiss? Pyrrha thought as she darted to and fro, as she ran around the hexagon like Juturna running seven times around the walls of Mistral to escape Pyrrha's namesake in all her wrath. She jumped over a glyph that Weiss planted in her way, thereby avoiding the two that Weiss had conjured on the floor on either side of it. Aren't you starting to think that this just isn't working?

A glyph appeared in front of her — but not a black glyph this time. This glyph was a pale blue, and a laser beam emerged out of it, straight upwards, half-blinding Pyrrha as it erupted just before her face on its way to slam into the shield that covered the gap in the colosseum ceiling.

More glyphs appeared on the floor all around Pyrrha, all of them spitting laser fire upwards towards the ceiling shield as if Weiss were trying to bring it down, to break out and into the world beyond. She wasn't; she was trying a different approach to boxing Pyrrha in.

She was trying to catch her in a crossfire with the other pale blue glyphs she was conjuring up in mid-air, on either side of her, a battery poised to sweep the battlefield from the side even as increasing numbers of laser beams shot up from below.

As Pyrrha turned her back on Weiss, she smiled.

A hard-light glyph appeared below Akoúo̱, the laser beam blasting Pyrrha's shield upwards. Pyrrha reached out — adding a little touch of Polarity — to catch it with one hand, slinging it across her back as she ran, letting sash and hair alike fly free behind her now as she ran to evade the laser fire that roared upwards all around like the geysers or the lava flows from the biomes of the earlier rounds.

Weiss did say she missed the terrain.

A faint black outline began to cover Pyrrha's back as she ran; she had seen last night — or very early this morning — the way that Cinder had used the convection currents to divert Sunset's magic, and she wondered whether she could use magnetic fields to do the same, to gently guide Weiss' laser fire away, not far away but around her, turning hits into near misses that wouldn't arouse Weiss' suspicion.

As a laser beam slammed into her back and pitched her forwards — narrowly avoiding taking another beam to the face — the answer appeared to be no, at least without putting a lot more power into it, but no matter. Pyrrha had reached the edge of the hexagon now, and Miló changed from spear mode to rifle in her hand as Pyrrha stepped delicately off and into the empty air.

She spun as she fell, her left hand reaching out to grasp the edge of the battlefield before it disappeared out of reach. Laser beams flew over her head to slam into the shield protecting the audience. Pyrrha's bicep bulged as with one hand she hauled herself back up over the ledge, just enough to poke her head above the battlefield.

Just enough to use the hexagon as a rest on which to steady Miló as, one handed, she aimed at Weiss.

Pyrrha fired.

She didn't wait to see if she hit or not, trusting in her aim she was pulling herself up the rest of the way even before the bang of the gun ceased to echo in her ears. Pyrrha's feet touched the floor even as Weiss was knocked off her glyph by the bullet which found its mark.

The pale blue laser glyphs began to fade as Pyrrha began to charge.

As Weiss fell, Miló switched back from rifle into spear mode.

As Weiss caught herself upon another glyph, Pyrrha was crossing the hexagon.

As Weiss began to climb, Pyrrha reached the far side and leapt down upon her like a thunderbolt from heaven. She drew back Miló and hurled it down ahead of her. The spear flew straight and true towards her foe until it stuck, jammed in a hastily conjured black glyph with the pointing sticking out an inch between the arcane symbols.

That same glyph would present a wall for Pyrrha, a wall into which she would slam if she kept going like this.

Pyrrha pulled Akoúo̱ off her back.

Weiss began to conjure up more glyphs behind her, glyphs to block her retreat in expectation that she would try to bounce off the glyph before her as she had before.

Pyrrha's right hand was still outstretched, and she grasped at the golden shaft of Miló as it came in reach. Weiss' glyph held the spear in place even as Pyrrha hung her weight upon it, suspending herself from the shaft for a moment like a beam before kicking off the glyph — it was very firm against her feet for something made of naught but aura — to pull herself up and over Miló even as she pulled Akoúo̱ off her back with her other hand. Planted her feet upon her spear and—

And got struck in the chest by a blast from Weiss' rapier as Pyrrha's opponent surged to meet her, leaping from off her glyph to fly up at her like an arrow. Pyrrha staggered somewhat from the initial impact, arms flying out to balance her as her precarious balance wobbled, and as Pyrrha struggled not to fall, Weiss flew past her, her slender sword lashing out with a sharp jab to knock Pyrrha off her spear.

Pyrrha caught Miló before she could fall too far, once more hanging off her weapon like a forest creature. For a moment, she could see the smile on Weiss' face, suffused with glee at having Pyrrha at her mercy, before Weiss disappeared from view, leaping from white glyph to white glyph until she was behind Pyrrha.

Pyrrha let go of Miló long enough to spin around, just about grabbing the red-and-gold spear once more in time to see Weiss lunging at her, sword outstretched. Pyrrha didn't bother with Polarity, she simply lashed out with Akoúo̱ upon her left arm. She aimed for Weiss' face, but Weiss brought up her own left arm to shield herself just in time, although the blow still lowered her aura and sent Weiss flying through the air until she conjured up another glyph to stick to.

Weiss paused, and as she paused, Pyrrha once more used her black glyph to kick off of and stand again upon Miló — but not for long; scarcely had she planted her feet upon the spear than she jumped off it. Not before time, too, because the black glyph holding Miló in place disappeared scarcely ere her feet had left the weapon, and Miló began to fall downwards to the pit below.

Pyrrha had to keep moving.

Weiss had been unexpectedly bold just then; Pyrrha had hoped to take her by surprise, but instead, Weiss had taken her by surprise with a brisk counterattack. Now, she looked set to repeat the trick, dancing from glyph to glyph, getting closer to Pyrrha but also manoeuvring around her. As Pyrrha flew, condemned by physics to move in a single direction, Weiss moved into position above her, poised over Pyrrha like a hawk.

She descended.

Pyrrha rolled in mid-air, Akoúo̱ gripped in both hands as she released some of her aura, thickening the coating of it around the shield's edge and then releasing it in a crimson shockwave that burst out and up and struck Weiss head-on.

That really is a useful technique for fighting opponents with a ranged advantage over me.

Weiss was knocked back, hurled upwards, but she still kept a grip on her sword as she was tossed up and aside. Pyrrha had to take her eyes off her, because she was beginning to descend herself, and if she didn't take action, then she would find herself eliminated.

Fortunately, before she hit the ground, she would hit the shield protecting the spectators from stray bullets — or huntresses crashing into the stands.

She tucked up her legs, twisting her body like a leaping salmon, her sash curling around her as she ended up facing backwards, facing towards the central hexagon even as she flew away from it, having to glance behind her as she descended on the very edge of the area — and the invisible barrier that separated her from the crowds who were getting ever larger to her sight.

Some of the spectators squealed with delight as Pyrrha planted her feet upon the barrier, green energy rippling out from beneath her boots as the barrier took the strain. She saw the flashes of scrolls going off, saw people waving to her, but Pyrrha had no time to wave back as she concentrated her aura in her legs and kicked off in a mighty leap, a leap to make frogs and toads greener than ever with envy at her legs as they propelled her clean across the empty air, all the way back to the central hexagon.

Pyrrha rolled as she landed, coming up to see that Weiss had beaten her there. Weiss' aura was lower than Pyrrha's — considerably lower — but her back was straight, and she stood yet proud as a grand old house upon the upper slopes, sword raised before her in a gesture like a salute.

And beneath her feet a silver glyph resembling, in part at least, the face of a clock.

Time dilation!

Pyrrha needed to act, while she was still capable of doing anything fast — or as fast as Weiss; even as she charged, Pyrrha threw her shield as the hands of the clock wound backwards, hoping to knock Weiss off her stroke, if not off the glyph.

The hands of the clock wound backwards.

Desperate times…

Pyrrha's hand glowed with a black outline as she reached for her semblance, stretching out with it towards her opponent.

The hands of the clock turned.

Polarity embraced Weiss' sword and flicked it backwards, the slender blade seeming to move on its own and slap Weiss in the face as though she momentarily lost her grip, or been buffeted by a fierce gust of wind.

Weiss recoiled, her face twisting in surprise, as the smoky silver glyph flickered beneath her.

It faded completely as Akoúo̱ slammed into her, knocking her back and off the disappearing glyph. Weiss rolled to her feet, slashing at the air with her blade to unleash a wave of fire which surged towards Pyrrha. Pyrrha endured the flames, taking the momentary heat as it burned her aura before she burst through onto the other side, rolling beneath the black glyphs that Weiss had conjured to stop her jumping over the firewall.

Pyrrha charged straight for Weiss, and Weiss lunged to meet her, skating upon a line of white glyphs that emerged always one step ahead of her, bearing her effortlessly towards but then around Pyrrha, close enough to strike—

A touch of Polarity made Weiss' stroke go awry, missing Pyrrha's side and back by less than an inch, the slender sword sliding past as Pyrrha reached out to grab Weiss by the wrist. Weiss tried to snatch both arm and weapon back in time, but she was not quite fast enough as Pyrrha's hand closed around her arm. Pyrrha yanked her off her glyph before she could react, her other hand snapping out to punch Weiss in the face. Her head snapped backwards.

I'm sorry about this, Weiss, Pyrrha thought as she grabbed her opponent by the neck, lifted her up into the air and then slammed her right back down, face first, into the floor of the central hexagon.

"Weiss Schnee's aura has passed below the limit!" Professor Port declared. "The Champion of the Fortieth Vytal Festival is Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!"

I … I won? Pyrrha blinked rapidly, eyes widening somewhat. After all that, it was over? Just like that, it was over? After all that build-up, it was over?

It was over.

I won!

It's over!

I won, and I'm free.

A smile, a great glad smile of joy spread across Pyrrha's face as she comprehended her position, the triumph of her position. She had won! She had conquered! She was the champion! Her mother would ask no more of her!

And the cheers of the crowd fell down upon her like autumn leaves.

The smile faltered a little on Pyrrha's face as she looked down and saw Weiss lying at her feet, just like the faceless figure, the opponent she could not make out, had in her dream.

For a moment, the breath caught in her throat.

Then Weiss groaned.

"Why," she muttered as she started to push herself up off the ground, "do I get the feeling that I've been utterly humiliated?"

"Because you're being too hard on yourself?" Pyrrha suggested, distracted from her dream and any ruminations associated with it. She offered a hand to help Weiss up. "You fought—"

"Don't patronise me, Pyrrha, please; it hurts worse than getting hit in the face," Weiss said. She looked up at Pyrrha's hand and outstretched arm, before she placed her own slight, small, pale hand inside Pyrrha's brown-gloved palm. "I could barely touch you."

"Most people don't make me work so hard to get anywhere close to them," Pyrrha replied, as she helped Weiss to her feet. "Although, if I may say—"

"You may," Weiss said. "Just because we're not in class doesn't mean that this can't be a learning experience."

"Your instincts to close with me were your weakest," Pyrrha said. "You gave me chances I wouldn't have had otherwise."

Weiss' lips tightened. "That … I'm sure you're right. Before the match, Russel advised me to stand off and use my lasers, but then, that didn't work too well either, did it? What … never mind." Weiss stepped back, bowing from the waist. "Congratulations, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha bowed in turn. "Thank you, Weiss."

The platform on which they stood began to descend, if only to allow Pyrrha to recover Miló.

"So," Weiss said, "how does it feel to be the hero?"

"I'm afraid you'd have to find a hero and ask them," Pyrrha replied. "I'm only the champion of this tournament."

Weiss snorted. "Very well then, how does it feel to be the champion of this tournament?"

Pyrrha breathed in deeply, listening for a moment to the cheering of the crowd, to the shouts, to their songs. "It feels wonderful," she said, "although not for the reasons you might think."

"You can keep your reasons, if you wish," Weiss said, "but it would be awful if I'd lost to someone who didn't even care that they'd won."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I care, believe me," she said. "I care very much indeed."

"Ladies and gentlemen," Doctor Oobleck's voice filled the arena, "at this point, ordinarily, the Amity Princess would present the laurel crown to our new champion … but she isn't here at the moment. We're trying to get hold of Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon, to do the honours, but— great scott!

There was a flash of light above them, above the arena, a flash of light that turned the cheering of the crowd to cries of shock and alarm that rippled downwards towards the ears of Pyrrha and Weiss.

Pyrrha looked up, and Weiss did too. They looked up to see the last vestiges of an explosion above the Colosseum, visible through the gap in the ceiling.

"What?" Weiss murmured. "Is that—?"

Another explosion burst above them, a fireball briefly flowering in the air, and this time, as the cheering and the singing faltered and faded, they could hear it too, the booming sound passing through the shield.

A sleek and shining Atlesian airship flew overhead, briefly visible, but in that brief moment, Pyrrha was certain she could see its guns blazing from the nose.

And behind the airship, racing in pursuit, a giant nevermore, dark wings outstretched, mouth gaping wide.

"Grimm?" Weiss cried. "Here, now, wh— what's going on?"

It's as Cinder said, Pyrrha thought. It's just as she said.

It has begun.

Battle in the Skies (New)

Battle in the Skies

Captain Spitfire, leader of the Atlesian Wonderbolt Squadron, regarded the rising numbers of nevermores massing above the Emerald Forest.

And they were massing. There seemed to be more of them arriving over the woods all the time; it was like that exercise that had gone wrong with the grimm lures that lured a lot more grimm than the professors had anticipated — only this time, there weren’t even any grimm lures in the forest; there were just increasing numbers of grimm over the woods.

That in itself wasn’t too surprising, since there were multiple grimm hordes assembling outside of Vale — multiple grimm hordes, multiple grimm hordes! Supposedly, you could go your entire career without seeing one single grimm horde if you were lucky, even if that was very lucky — but there were three of the things sitting outside of Vale right now, and they were only getting bigger — and while those were ground hordes, it was natural that they would start to draw in flyers as it went.

No, the surprising thing was that so many more of the nevermores were concentrated in this one specific place over the Emerald Forest, rather than being spread out across the entire horde — three hordes — spread out facing Vale.

Grimm weren’t stupid. Well, they could be stupid sometimes, especially if they were young, but when they got older, when they formed hordes, then they weren’t stupid; they had leaders who could be almost as smart as humans; some of them were even smarter. When they formed in these kinds of numbers, they didn’t do anything without a reason.

So why were their flyers forming up over the Emerald Forest in ever-increasing numbers?

The answer that came to mind was that they didn’t intend to remain over the Emerald Forest for very long.

“Okay, One Flight, with me, we’re going to take up position between those nevermores and the Amity Colosseum,” she ordered. “Flights Two and Three, I want you to gain elevation and be prepared to descend on them from above if they make a move. Flight Two on the port side, Flight Three on the starboard side.”

“Five, acknowledged,” came the response from Soarin’ over the comm.

“Nine, copy that,” answered Fire Streak.

The Wonderbolts broke into their respective flights, eight of the Skydarts taking off left or right, in a position to outflank the grimm as well as gaining elevation on them, if the grimm ventured out from over the forest closer to Vale — and towards the Amity Arena especially. The remaining Skydarts, Spitfire’s own flight, formed up on her as Spitfire guided her airship to a position in front of the grimm, so that if they did come forward, if they moved out from over the forest where they were hovering menacingly, they would have go through One Flight.

“Captain,” Wind Chill, Wonderbolt Four, said over the comm, “are we going to shoot first, or are we still holding back for the Valish?”

“Hold fire rules stand, for now,” Spitfire said pointedly. “Hang on.” She switched from the squadron frequency to the command channel. “Valiant, this is Wonderbolt Leader requesting to speak with the general.”

“Patching you through,” said Lieutenant des Voeux.

There was a moment of pause before General Ironwood’s voice came over the line. “Ironwood here, what do you have, Spitfire?”

“Sir, the grimm are concentrating their air assets over the Emerald Forest,” Spitfire said. “I think they’re up to something.”

“We’re reading that too, Spitfire; I’m moving Nova and Barracuda Squadrons into position to support you now.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” Spitfire said.

Nova Squadron was an alright squadron, and she might even have acknowledged that they were better than okay if she hadn’t her pride as a Wonderbolt to consider; Barracuda Squadron were flying Skyhawks, which were, in Spitfire’s opinion, an absolutely useless airship — yes, she was aware of all the arguments in their favour: they presented a small target, they were highly manoeuvrable while remaining relatively stationary, they were intended as a defensive airship; Spitfire wasn’t convinced by any of them — and the first thing that would be thrown on the scrapheap the moment someone gave her high rank. Or probably not, actually, because there were politics involved: the Skyhawk had been designed by one of Jacques Schnee’s … nephews, cousins, something like that — it was family anyway — and that meant that Atlas had to buy at least some of them, even if they were no good at all.

Still, she supposed they were better than nothing, and the pilots were probably perfectly fine in spite of their substandard gear.

“Sir,” she added, “you know what I’m about to ask.”

“Hold your fire, Spitfire,” General Ironwood replied. “Until or unless the grimm move to engage.”

Soarin’s voice came over the line. “Captain, this is Five, the grimm are—”

“I see them, Five,” Spitfire said, because both the radar sat in the centre of her controls inside the tight Skydart cockpit and the evidence of her own eyes were both telling her that the grimm were moving forwards out of the forest, headed for her flight — and, more importantly, that arena beyond.

And they were starting to pick up a head of speed as they came on.

“General—” she began.

“I see them, Spitfire,” General Ironwood said, his voice calm and unaffected. “Green light to engage.”

Whether it was in spite of the circumstances or because of them, Spitfire found herself breathing a sigh of relief. So much of this year, or at least the part of the year that they had spent in the skies over Vale, had been taken up with politics: don’t do this, don’t do that, ignore the grimm, play nice with the Valish, and don’t make waves. She was an Atlesian pilot, an officer and a specialist, and it rankled with her — and it rankled with the rest of the squadron too, even if they were guarded about admitting it — to have a leash placed around their necks by a succession of Valish politicians who all seemed to her to be pretty equal in their mediocrity.

But now … now, the leash was off, and there was nothing between them and the grimm.

Was that a worrying thought? The moment you took the grimm lightly was the moment one of them ate you, as the saying went, but at the same time, she was an Atlesian pilot, the leader of a squadron of Atlesian Skydart pilots, and if they couldn’t take on some nevermores, then they deserved not to land again.

And so there was some satisfaction in her voice as she said, “Affirmative, thank you, sir.” She switched quickly over to the squadron channel. “Okay, Wonderbolts, we have the green light to engage targets! All airships, fire at will!”

“Des Voeux, signal Resolution and Gallant; order them to engage those grimm, keep them away from the Amity Colosseum,” General Ironwood ordered, his hands tightening behind his back.

“Yes, sir.”

“Irving,” Ironwood said, “Any movement from the Valish?”

“No, sir, their ships are maintaining their present position,” Irving replied.

“Shall I hail them, sir?” asked des Voeux.

“No,” Ironwood said, without explaining why. They would find out why if — although he still had some hope that they would not — the Valish became hostile to them. “No, we’ll get this done without their help.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” asked Fitzjames from the captain’s chair.

“Granted,” Ironwood said.

“We can spare more ships to assist Gallant and Resolution,” Fitzjames pointed out. “And more airship squadrons.”

“I think that might be what they want us to do, Fitzjames,” Ironwood replied. “The grimm are holding their positions all along the line; they’re only attacking from the air in this one spot, this one spot that is almost out of their way. Maybe they want us to pull all of our cruisers and our squadrons out of position to that one spot and then, once they’ve stripped our ground troops on the Green Line of their air support, then they’ll attack.”

He wasn’t certain, of course, that that was the intent of the grimm, or of Salem — he wasn’t sure, even Oz wasn’t sure, how much control Salem had over the creatures of grimm in the field. At times, it seemed like she might have a lot, other times like she had none at all. Were they acting in accordance with her will or the dictates of their own nature? It seemed unlikely that so many grimm would have come to Vale like this without some prodding from their mistress, but did she set their battle strategies? Nobody could say for sure — but he wouldn’t put it past them. Grimm became cunning when massed in hordes like this; they tended to be led by old bastards who had seen a lot and survived a lot and knew the tricks. They knew to hang back at the rear, they knew to send in the weakest grimm first to get a feel for the enemy defences, and if they knew to avoid Atlesian airpower if they could, then he wouldn’t put that past them either. This was a feint. Probably.

If it wasn’t a feint, there were still two cruisers, three fighter squadrons, and all the Skyrays and Skygraspers for the troops deployed on the arena and Beacon down below. That should suffice.

“However,” Ironwood went on, “Fitzjames, take the Valiant closer to the arena; we’ll provide additional fire support personally.”

“Sir?” Fitzjames asked, sounding surprised.

“This ship has weapons, Fitzjames; let’s put them to work,” Ironwood declared.

“Yes, sir,” Fitzjames replied. “Cunningham, helm ten degrees to port, move forward at one third thrust, halt on my command.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Graham, bring main guns to bear on the grimm,” Fitzjames ordered.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“And des Vœux,” Ironwood said. “Patch me through to Professor Ozpin.”

“Yes, sir,” des Voeux answered, fingers flying over his control panel. “Patching you through now.”

There was a pause, with only the background noise of the Valiant’s CIC, the officers guiding the ship forward or aiming the guns undertaking their assigned tasks with quiet competence as Fitzjames guided the flagship into the battle.

Then there was an answer. “Yes, James?”

“We have nevermores moving towards the Amity Arena,” Ironwood announced without preamble. It wasn’t as though this would come as any great shock to Ozpin, what with the warning that Cinder had given them. “My airships are moving to intercept and engage them.”

There was a sound that might have been a sigh from Oz, although what with the fact that Ironwood couldn’t see him, it was impossible to say for sure.

“I see,” Ozpin said. “The battle between Miss Nikos and Miss Schnee is drawing to a close, I think; I am glad for them that they will not have to have their struggle called to a premature close without the victor decided.”

Ironwood wondered if the one who was losing the fight — probably Miss Schnee, although he hadn’t watched the battle — would be glad to see it called off early, but instead, he said, “With the numbers of nevermores, I don’t know if we can stop them getting to the arena, but I don’t think that we should order an evacuation; with the grimm in the air, the spectators and students will all be safer inside the arena then they will be aboard slow skybuses trying to get down to Beacon.”

There was a pause. “I … think you are correct,” Ozpin agreed. “I’m not entirely certain that the people aboard the arena will feel the same way, but you are right.”

“But,” Ironwood went on, “I think that we should start evacuating Beacon; that way, once we can start bringing people down from the arena, there won’t be a huge crush on the skydocks.”

“I understand your point,” Ozpin said, “but I am afraid that the skyliners will be as vulnerable taking off from Beacon as the skybuses would be taking off from the Amity Arena; the grimm may descend upon the school as easily as they may flock around the arena.”

“Hmm, true,” Ironwood murmured. “Alright, try and keep everyone calm around the school when they see the grimm flying overhead.”

“I am sure the fact that they can also see your airships flying overhead will be a great comfort,” Ozpin replied, in such a tone that Ironwood couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“We can hope,” Ironwood said. “That’s what they’re here for, after all.”

Whether or not the Atlesian AF-55 Skydart was the most heavily armed airship in Atlesian service was a matter of debate and opinion; Skybolt pilots claimed that the honour went to their airship, because of that enormous Tempest cannon mounted under the nose; it was true that most Skydarts didn’t have anything quite like that, but if you were only counting the sheer number of weapons stuck on a Skydart’s blocky and narrow-winged frame then you’d come up with a number that was hard to beat. Each Skydart mounted four twenty millimetre autocannons in the nose, with two heavy cannons mounted on either side of the fuselage on the inside of the wings. Then there was the laser cannon mounted on a turret on top of the fuselage, capable of firing directly over the cockpit as well as in other directions, and that was before you got to the missiles mounted on the underside of the wings.

The Skybolt could keep her Tempest cannon; Spitfire’s Skydart was armed to the teeth.

And in every flight, there was a single Skydart — in Flight One, that was Rapidfire, Wonderbolt Three — who had an even bigger laser, almost the size of a cruiser’s main gun, slung under the fuselage instead of most of their missiles. The weight of the gun and the power supply made the airship a little slower and harder to manoeuvre than it would have been otherwise, and more dependent on their wingman for assistance, but the ability to one-shot even pretty large grimm was not to be sneezed at.

For her part, as the flock of nevermores — her instruments told her there were about sixty of them, and that seemed about right from the mass of black that Spitfire could see through the cockpit — began to close in from over the Emerald Forest, Spitfire kept her finger on the button on top of her stick that would fire the laser cannon mounted above.

She wasn’t going to tell her pilots which gun to use, but she’d be surprised if they didn’t use their own lasers to begin with.

The grimm came on, a dark mass of beating wings, their white skulls — too far away to see any of the red lines that decorated the bone — little flashes of white amongst the darkness.

She couldn’t see their eyes, but Spitfire wasn’t about to wait until she could to commence firing. Her thumb pressed down upon the button. The darkening sky directly above turned green as the laser beam lanced directly over the cockpit and towards the grimm.

It was joined by other green beams, from Silver Zoom and High Winds, the other two members of One Flight, and a red beam, broader than the green, courtesy of Rapidfire and their heavy laser. Two Flight and Three Flight engaged as well, firing down at the grimm from above on both sides, red and green lasers chewing into the flanks of the flock as it surged forwards. More laser fire came in from behind, the red beams of the Gallant and the Resolution as they opened fire with their main batteries in support of the Wonderbolts, along with another cruiser — the Valiant? General Ironwood was bringing the Valiant in to provide fire support? That was a gutsy move on his part, putting himself in harm’s way like that when he could have claimed to have been directing from the rear. Maybe he ought to be directing from the rear, but until or unless the grimm showed more of their hand than this attack by the nevermores, there wasn’t a whole lot of directing to be done: the grimm were attacking, and everyone knew what had to be done to stop them.

And right now, the firepower of an extra cruiser was not a thing to be turned away, as the red beams of its main battery tore into the swarm of beating black wingers, obliterating multiple nevermores in a single shot as it caught a group of them in a row.

The lasers on the Skydarts weren’t quite so powerful; they could kill a nevermore in one shot, if they were lucky, but equally, there were times when the first shot would only stagger the flying grimm, and you had to hit them multiple times before they would finally disappear. It was best to hit them on the wing, notwithstanding that that was harder than aiming for centre mass: a hit to the head might glance off the bone, a hit to the chest might only slow them, or the nevermore might keep on going as though a direct hit from a laser didn’t even faze it at all, whereas a hit to the wing would send them falling, and nine times out of ten, they would hit the ground rather than recover; they might heal up from a wing injury like that, but not in time to join this battle.

So Spitfire aimed for the wings, trying to send the nevermores plummeting back down into the forest they came from while they would still fall over the forest — once they got over Beacon, then sending a wounded, flightless, but still alive nevermore falling down onto the school would be a little harder to defend, especially on purpose.

She hit three on the wing in quick succession, on top of taking out a fourth one completely with a trio of shots to the chest in quick succession. One nevermore stabilised in mid-descent and rose back up to join the flock, but two more went down and down and down, down to the Emerald Forest where they’d come from, and the Wonderbolts wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore today.

Nevermores died, nevermores fell from the sky, nevermores were pummelled with fire from three sides, but the nevermores kept on coming.

“One Flight, back up,” Spitfire ordered; redundantly, because they’d all been in the squadron long enough to know what to do in this situation, but at the same time, there was no harm in reminding everyone as Spitfire put her own airship into reverse. She couldn’t see the blocky engines on either end of the narrow wings rotating a hundred and eighty degrees, but she could feel them rotating, just like she could feel the airship starting to back up, retreating away from the grimm even as the grimm flew forwards.

That was standard procedure in these situations; since closing the range only benefited the grimm, then if possible — as in, if there wasn’t some pressing physical obstacle or pressing reason why you couldn’t fall back — then you should reverse away from them, keeping the distance open while continuing to fire on them. And so, One Flight backed away from the nevermores, even as Two and Three Flights continued to hold position and bring down laser fire on what was becoming the rear of the flock, not the flanks, because the grimm were single-minded. They didn’t care about the cruisers that were pounding them from behind, they didn’t care about the fire on their flanks, not a single nevermore broke off to engage Two or Three Flight, all they seemed to care about was moving forward.

To One Flight and the firepower of the Atlesian cruisers was added more airship laser fire, more green beams streaking out across the sky, fired from behind the Wonderbolts.

“Wonderbolt Leader, this is Nova Leader; we’ve got you covered,” came the voice over the comm.

In addition to the lasers, Spitfire saw a couple of missiles fly past her cockpit to explode amongst the nevermores.

“Wonderbolt Leader to Nova Squadron, who's firing missiles?” Spitfire demanded.

“Um, that’s me, ma’am, Nova Seven,” came a nervous-sounding male voice. “I think that the missiles have more—”

“Save your missiles for the hard targets, son,” Spitfire said. “You’ll miss them when you run out.”

“A nevermore isn’t a hard target?” asked Nova Seven incredulously.

“Stay alive long enough, kid, you’ll get to recognise a hard target when you see one,” Soarin’ informed him.

The grimm were getting hammered now, their numbers decreasing, the flock of black feathers getting thinner and thinner, but they kept on coming nonetheless, their lives meaning nothing to them; they just kept on surging straight forward.

Spitfire wondered what the plan was here; grimm hordes weren’t stupid, but it should have been clear to the apex alpha of this horde — or one of them, since there was more than one horde here, which didn’t stop being ridiculous — that this attack wasn’t going to work any way you sliced it: the nevermores weren’t going to get past the Atlesian firepower, at least not in any numbers, and there wasn’t any sign of them drawing off any additional Atlesian air assets other than the Valiant, no sign of the line being weakened to deal with them. They were going to take out these nevermores, and then … what? What was the plan here? What was this sacrifice of nevermores in aid of?

They couldn’t be throwing nevermores at them just to get shot at; in certain circumstances, Spitfire might have believed that, but not from a horde like this; hordes didn’t just make sacrifices; they made them, like chess players, in pursuit of a larger goal.

One that wasn’t yet clear.

What was clear was that the surviving grimm, who, as they got less numerous, were getting better at evading the fire from the big cruisers, were still coming, and the Atlesian airships were running out of room to retreat before they’d let the grimm get over Beacon.

“Okay, Wonderbolt One Flight, Nova Squadron,” Spitfire said. “We are going to overpass the nevermores; with luck, they’ll turn and pursue; if not, they’ll show us their tail feathers. Barracuda Squadron, hold the line here.”

“Nova Leader, acknowledged.”

“Barracuda Leader, acknowledged.”

Spitfire reversed the direction of her engines once again, feeling without needing to look as the engine blocks rotated a second time back one hundred and eighty degrees until they were pointing forwards, towards the grimm who advanced as inexorably as they withered under fire.

And then she put the pedal to the metal.

Spitfire felt herself forced backwards into her chair, rammed up against it, her chest tightening from the pressure of her sudden acceleration as she drove the Skydart forwards at high speed.

Her Skydart — and the other Skydarts of her flight, and Nova Squadron too — surged forwards through the sky with a speed that the grimm couldn’t match, closing the distance between them like cavalry suddenly charging infantry on some old battlefield from before the Great War, tired of watching them slog their way across the grass when they could close much quicker and bowl them over.

This wasn’t quite a cavalry charge by airships, but to be honest, the overpass owed a little something to it.

As she sped towards the nevermores, Spitfire switched from her laser cannon to the twin cannons mounted on either side of the fuselage, on the inside of the wings. Some disagreed with her — as she could tell from the way that she could still see green laser bolts firing past her Skydart even now — but Spitfire thought that, at close range, the rapid rate of fire of the cannons made up for the fact that they didn’t have the stopping power of the laser.

There came a point when a torrent of fire had a stopping power all its own.

Spitfire held down the trigger, jinking left or right to match the movements of the grimm who made some efforts to evade, to get out of the way of the Atlesian airships that were suddenly charging towards them in a diamond formation. Spitfire didn’t move too much — she didn’t want to disrupt that formation — but she shifted her airship a little this way, a little that way, keeping a grimm under fire so that she didn’t just spit her cannon fire into the air. She didn’t get a hit on the wing, but she did watch a nevermore wilt under her sustained fire until it turned to ash and smoke before her eyes, the red indicator disappearing from Spitfire’s instruments.

And the grimm were still under fire from the flanks, although that would stop once One Flight and Nova Squadron reached them.

The Skydarts rushed forwards, aiming like a spear — One Flight were the point; Nova Squadron was the shaft — towards the grimm, but they didn’t penetrate the heart of the grimm formation, didn’t dive into the midst of the flock; if they had, then that would have exposed them to feathers launched down, even blindly, from the nevermores above them. No, there was an ‘over’ in ‘overpass’ for a reason, and at the last moment before she was in amongst the grimm, Spitfire pulled up, yanking back on her stick and being pushed back into her chair just as the acceleration impact had eased off, guiding her airship up over the grimm as she flew beyond them.

The conventional aim of an overpass manoeuvre was, once you were over the grimm, to about face and hit them from the rear; and Spitfire would turn, but not yet, because she didn’t want to hit the grimm in the rear, she wanted the grimm to turn around and come after her back the way that they’d come, and so, she kept on flying straight ahead, her pilots and Nova Squadron following as they passed over the grimm and over the Emerald Forest, hoping that the grimm, fired on and enraged, would turn in pursuit.

They didn’t. The remaining nevermores showed no sign of doing anything other than what they had been doing: keep going straight for the Amity Colosseum.

Spitfire started to turn her Skydart to hit the grimm from behind.

Just then, her instruments began to light up with warnings, the sound of beeping filled the enclosed cockpit as more and more blips appeared on her radar.

"Captain," Soarin's voice came over the comm, "we've got trouble."

"I see them," Spitfire said, because out of the cockpit of her airship, angled downwards for a turn that was half-complete, she could see more grimm rising out of the Emerald Forest, a reserve of grimm that had lain concealed within the woods but now emerged to confront the Atlesians before they could complete the overpass — the overpass they had guessed the Atlesians would undertake because it was one of their standard aerial tactics — and round upon the nevermores from the rear.

Sometimes, the grimm really were very clever.

And it sucked every time.

Spitfire knew that she had seconds, if that, to come up with a plan. The grimm were emerging out of the forest in two groups, both larger than the initial group of nevermores and getting larger. There were more nevermores amongst them, but also griffons and even some damned teryxes, the big lizard grimm.

And the survivors of the first wave of nevermores were still bound for the Amity Arena.

"Nova Squadron," Spitfire commanded. "Continue to pursue that first group of nevermores, catch them in a vice between you and Barracuda Squadron; Wonderbolts will watch your back. Two Flight, descend and engage the newcomers on the port side; Three and Four will support. Three Flight, engage the group on the starboard side; I'll back you up with Two."

"Nova Leader, acknowledging. Nova Squadron, form up on me."

"Wonderbolt Five, beginning descent."

"Wonderbolt Nine, beginning descent."

"Wonderbolt Three, moving to engage."

"Wonderbolt Two, I'm on your wing, captain."

"And for the record, Nova Seven," Soarin' added, "you see those teryxes? That is what a hard target looks like."

"Cut the chatter, Wonderbolt Five," Spitfire ordered sharply as she began to dive down on the newcomers to this battle, towards the swarm of nevermores, griffons and the three teryxes rising out of the trees. Their mouths were open, all their mouths seemed to be open, and Spitfire could imagine the roars and shrieks and screams of rage being torn out of their throats as they rushed to meet the Wonderbolts and the Wonderbolts dropped to meet them.

Chatter aside, Soarin' gave some pretty good advice, and Spitfire locked onto the largest of the three teryxes, the leader of this battle group.

The targeting reticule displayed on the inside of her visor turned from green to red, while a continuous beep sounded in her ears.

"Wonderbolt One, missiles away," she muttered and fired two Sledgehammers at him.

Spitfire watched the missiles — two of her eight — streak out from under her wings, leaving rocket trails behind them as they rushed towards the target. The teryx had a long, slender body, a torso that was scarcely any thicker than its long neck, with two curved foresaw and two flat feet and three claws half as long as a Skydart at the ends of each of them. Its tail was longer than its torso and ended in a red frill like a fan or a palm leaf. Its neck was topped with a bony, narrow, lizardlike skull with large fangs and even larger eyes. Two wings, red and leathery, emerged from either side of its round body.

The grimm, mouth opened, tried to avoid the missiles, but the Sledgehammers pursued it, following it as it rolled and dived, their trails tracing a winding pattern through the air as they got closer and closer and—

Two griffons, avian heads and feathery wings on leonine bodies, emerged out of the mass of grimm, erupting upwards into the path of Spitfire's missiles. The Sledgehammers exploded on impact, destroying the two griffons in blazes of fire but leaving the teryx alive and whole.

Spitfire gritted her teeth.

Then she was in amongst the grimm.

They were everywhere, griffons, nevermores swarming all around. Spitfire’s cannons blazed, and her autocannons too, spitting fire as she made her Skydart dance amongst the feathered grimm. She kept trying to find the big teryx, tried to stalk it through the mass, but there were so many grimm, and they kept getting in the way.

The grimm were everywhere, and they tried to claw at the Atlesian airships, tried to chomp down on them with their beaks, tried to rip the cockpits open to get at the pilots inside; the nevermores tried to get above the Atlesians and rain down feathers on them from above. The teryxes tried to swallow them whole or bat them into the cliffs with a swing of their enormous tails.

But these were the Wonderbolts they were up against, the best squadron in the Atlesian Forces, the first squadron of the First Squadron, and Spitfire’s hand-picked girls and boys were not going to be taken out by a few nevermores and griffons, or even a lot of them.

“I’ve got someone persistent on my tail.”

“I’ve got you covered, Misty; give me one second.”

“Thanks, Soarin’.”

“Blaze, you’ve got a nevermore trying to get on top of you.”

“Copy that, evading.”

“Rapidfire, I’m gonna set that teryx up; nail him, will you?”

“Affirmative; line him up for me, High Winds.”

They were calm over the comm, there was no panic, no alarm; the Skydarts moved through the sky swiftly but elegantly, slipping and sliding between the grimm, guns blazing, lasers firing, missiles shooting out from beneath the wings and leaving rocket trails in their wake. They were calm, they were coordinated, each pilot covered by their wingman. When a nevermore got behind Misty, Soarin’ throttled back until he was behind the nevermore and took it out with a couple of well-placed laser shots. When another nevermore tried to get on top of Blaze, Fire Streak let him know. And Surprise willingly let a teryx chase after her so that Rapidfire could give it a surprise: a shot from his large laser.

The grimm flocked around them, but they couldn’t touch them; they didn’t stand a chance.

But there were a lot of them, and while the Wonderbolts were dealing with them, more grimm were reinforcing — or replacing — the diminished first wave of nevermores and heading for the Amity Colosseum.

Including the big teryx that Spitfire had tried, and unfortunately failed, to take out earlier.

They passed through the fire from the main batteries on the cruisers, they endured the fire from Nova and Barracuda squadrons, they took the missiles from the cruisers — they could afford to waste their missiles on nevermores or griffons for the simple reason that they had more missiles to spare — and there were more grimm coming up out of the forest, enough to keep the Wonderbolts busy and to head for the Amity Arena.

The grimm struck the line of Nova and Barracuda Squadrons.

“Wonderbolts, break contact!” Spitfire ordered. “We are falling back to reinforce Nova and Barracuda.” After all, containment of the second wave of grimm had failed; the priority now was to assist their brother and sister fliers and try to prevent the grimm from getting to the arena itself.

“Copy that, Leader,” Soarin’ said.

“Acknowledged, Captain,” replied Fire Streak.

They did not break off in a formation; for some pairs, it was easier to do than others. They all had to shoot their way out, but some had to do a bit more shooting.

Some also had to deal with more grimm coming after them specifically, while others could roar ahead.

Spitfire and her wingman, Silver Zoom, were one of the lucky ones, blasting a pair of griffons aside to gain the open sky, racing back the way they had come.

Because Nova and Barracuda kind of needed the help. Barracuda Squadron were doing their best, but those damn flying cockpits just didn’t have the speed or the manoeuvrability for a fight like this. And Nova Squadron … it was clear that some of its pilots lacked experience.

“This is Nova Seven! I’ve got one on me! I need help!”

“Hang on, kid, I’m on my way,” Spitfire said, tapping the booster button to give her Skydart a short burst of speed that shoved her backwards into her seat as the airship leapt forwards. She could see Nova Seven out the cockpit as well as on her instruments, the Skydart with yellow stars painted on the wings, jinking and twisting and rolling as it tried to stay one step ahead of the big teryx.

Spitfire scowled.

You won’t get away from me this time.

“Okay, Nova Seven, this is Wonderbolt Leader,” Spitfire said. “Teryxes are fast on the straight line, but they can’t turn quickly — they’re too big — so pull up and get on top and behind him; he won’t be able to follow you.”

“But if I pull up, he’ll—”

“No, he won’t,” Spitfire assured him. “Trust me, kid, I’ve got you.”

There was a pause. “Okay,” Nova Seven said. “Acknowledged, sir. Pulling up now.”

Nova Seven’s Skydart began to rise rapidly in the air, the stars on his wings glimmering in the dying light as his airship climbed higher and higher.

The teryx extended its neck out, jaws open.

Spitfire fired her laser, three green bolts firing one after the other. The first one missed, but the second two slammed into the teryx, one on the skull and the other at the nape of its neck.

The teryx swung said neck around to face Spitfire, mouth open.

It looked like it was scowling.

“You’re doing great, Nova Seven; don’t drop just yet, keep your height,” Spitfire said.

Silver Zoom fired too, nailing the teryx to the torso with two blasts from his own laser. It didn’t do anything visible to the grimm, but it did keep its focus on the Wonderbolts as Nova Seven kept on climbing away from the grimm.

Which left the grimm with a choice to make: pursue Nova Seven as he climbed away or engage the Wonderbolts coming up behind him.

He chose Nova Seven, twisting his lithe body upwards and beginning to pursue. He was slower while he changed direction, allowing Nova Seven to pull ahead, only to begin gaining again once he had actually started going upwards.

“He’s still on me!”

“I know, I know,” Spitfire said, her own voice calm. “Don’t panic, kid; everything is going to be fine.” She started pulling up herself. “But I need you to fly straight and level for a little bit, okay?”

“Seriously?!”

“Seriously, this is going to work,” Spitfire assured him. “I know what I’m doing, trust me.”

“She’s right, Seven,” Silver Zoom added. “If the captain has a plan, she’s got a plan. And I think I know what it is.”

Nova Seven flew upwards, and the teryx flew upwards after him. Spitfire and Silver Zoom rose too, rising up behind the teryx, but holding their fire.

“Finger off the trigger, Two,” Spitfire ordered. “I want to be sure this time.”

“Um—” Nova Seven began.

“I guarantee, I will not let you die,” Spitfire told him. “Now,” — she paused, tapping the booster again to give the Skydart another kick, to bring her closer to the teryx’s tail — “I need you to do something difficult for me, but I know that you’re up for it because, even if you’re new at this, you’re still an Atlesian pilot. Do you have any missiles left?”

There was a pause from Seven as he kept on climbing, the teryx slowly gaining on him. “I’ve got three left.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Spitfire said. “When I give you the signal, I want you to flip around so that you’re facing downwards and stuff two missiles down that grimm’s throat.”

“I … I don’t know if I can—”

“Yes, you can,” Spitfire told him. “I know you can, you know you can. You’ve trained for this, all the simulations, all the hours of flight time. You know what to do.”

Spitfire’s targeting reticule turned from green to red as she fixed her sights on the Teryx’s rear. But she didn’t fire.

She waited.

She could hear Nova Seven’s breathing over the comm, heavy breaths, nervous breaths, breaths that got slower, and calmer.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. I … I can do this. I will.”

He kept on climbing. The teryx kept climbing after him.

“Three,” Nova Seven said. “Three … two … one!”

His turn was clumsy, his airship slid sideways in the air a little bit, and one of his Sledgehammers missed the target, dropping down towards the ground like a lightning bolt, past the teryx, past Spitfire and Silver Zoom, down and down towards the ground.

But the other missile flew straight and true for the teryx’s head.

Spitfire grinned. “Wonderbolt One, missiles away!”

“Wonderbolt Two, missiles away!”

Spitfire fired one missile. Silver Zoom, because he hadn’t fired any yet, fired two. All four missiles converged upon the teryx from above and below, even as the grimm tried to twist out of the way.

It was still turning when all four missiles struck home.

The flames of the explosions flared, obscuring the teryx’s head and parts of its torso in the flames. And then the flames cleared, and there was less of the teryx left to see as parts of it rapidly turned to smoke and ashes.

Silver Zoom whooped. “Congratulations, Nova Seven, you just got an assist on a teryx! How do you feel, kid?”

There was a pause, before Seven replied, “Lucky to be alive.”

“You’re more than that, Seven,” Spitfire declared. “You’re a fighter pilot. Now let’s go,” she added as she angled her airship back down towards the Amity Arena, the arena that was thronged now with grimm flocking all around it. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

The Eyes of the World, Part Three (New)

The Eyes of the World, Part Three

As the commentators announced that the battle was over, Turnus found that his first thought was for Professor Lionheart.

Probably because the man was his houseguest, although that didn’t stop him from realising that it was a little strange for him to be thinking about the man at this time, as all the crowd around them — including his own people; Aventinus sounded like he was trying to wear out his voice with the volume of his cheering — exploded in enthusiastic rejoicing.

Nevertheless, in the midst of the ecstasy, Turnus did find that there was a part of him that felt a little bit sorry for old Lionheart. If Pyrrha had been a Haven student, then he, Lionheart, would have shared in the triumph and in the rewards that would follow her victory. As the man who had shepherded Mistral back to Vytal glory and their first triumph in that arena in many decades, he would have been honoured for his part in the great accomplishment. He would have been made a Companion of the Emperor, perhaps even an Agema Companion; there was even a chance that he would have been made a Captain-Companion; or else he could have been granted a Bronze Shield, or even a Silver Shield. He could — this was an outside chance but a possibility nevertheless — have been made Lord Lionheart and granted lands that would have enabled him to retire, his dignity enhanced and without risk of being diminished by later defeat, into that pastoral idyll of which the poets sang.

If Pyrrha had been a Haven student. But, of course, she was not, and so all of those rewards would remain out of Lionheart’s reach. Even if, next year or in some future but not too future year, a Haven student managed to claim the crown, then the weight of it would be far less because Mistral had won glory not long before under Pyrrha Nikos.

The rewards that would accrue to Lionheart would be correspondingly less.

As it was, and judging by the cheering of the crowd, by the dancing, by the shouting and the waving of arms, by the sheer joy that erupted out of their throats, by the energy that surrounded all these people of Mistral, great rewards would fall to Pyrrha and Pyrrha alone. She already had a Bronze Shield, granted to her when she had set a new record for victories in the Mistral Tournament, but surely, a Silver Shield was in her future now, to say nothing of admission into the Companions. How could Mistral’s greatest living athlete be denied? People had been honoured for far less than that in recent years, and amidst the spectacle of Councillors rewarding themselves with endless honours merely for doing their jobs and rewarding their cronies with the same for making campaign contributions, it would be a scandal if someone who had actually accomplished something were not to be appropriately rewarded for it by a grateful kingdom.

No, Pyrrha would be on the new year’s honour’s list. If the Council did not decide to rush it through sooner.

On what grounds could she be denied?

After all, it was impossible to stand here, in this crowd, and deny that Pyrrha Nikos had indeed accomplished something.

No one could stand here, in the midst of a crowd like this, roaring with delight, waving their arms in the air, showering beer and wine over the heads of their fellows as they waved their arms without regard for what they were holding in those arms — Turnus could see a doughnut flying through the air as it left someone’s grip — and deny that Pyrrha Nikos had accomplished something.

She had given Mistral something to roar about, to shout about, to sing about, to cheer about, and that was not nothing. That was not nothing at all.

No, that was quite something indeed. It had been too long since they in Mistral had something to shout about. Although Pyrrha Nikos’ victory in the Vytal Tournament would not restore Mistral’s fortunes, in the absence of anything that could or might restore them — if anything could short of a complete transformation of Mistralian society which would perhaps render it no longer Mistral in anything but name — it was no bad thing that they had something to shout about.

And perhaps, having something to shout about and cheer about, having had it proven to them that Mistral could triumph once again in some field of arms, that they were not doomed to suffer total, complete, and inevitable decline in status, wealth, influence, and all else besides, that they could rally … perhaps it was possible that someone — someone wiser than him — might give some thought to how they could avert decline in other ways than Vytal glory, how they might save Mistral.

He would confess that, though he could hardly do worse than the present Council of placemen and incompetents, he was hard-pressed to see a way; if Mistral were to become more like Atlas, then it would surely improve its condition in many ways, but … but then it might be less Mistral and more of a warmer, more southerly Atlas blessed with abundant farmland; but at what cost? Would the drive to self-improvement, or merely to improvement — for could improvement be called self-improvement if one was merely imitating someone else? — accomplish what Lord Fir and the eyes of Mantle had failed to do and wash away Mistral’s past, its history, honour, and tradition.

All the things that had brought them this tournament triumph?

And yet, what other chance had they to recover true greatness, in more than laurel crowns to set in the Temple of Victory?

He could not say. For all that he had seen much in Atlas to admire, nevertheless, there was much in Mistral to love.

No doubt, there was someone wiser than he who would divine some true and middle path, even if he could not name them and was certain that they did not sit on the Council.

Almost anyone could do better than the Council.

But now was not the time for such thoughts; they were thoughts for the future, for a possible future at the least, a future in which Mistral, emboldened by success, resolved to save itself.

Now was the time to celebrate the success itself. Now was the time to howl.

Or to clap, as Camilla was doing beside him, her pale hands colliding. A smile was set upon her face. She glanced at him with her red eyes.

“It is as I said, my lord,” she declared. “Pyrrha Nikos is touched by fortune. I daresay, every face in Mistral will be smiling until the winter snows arrive.”

“'Every face'?” Turnus asked, eyebrows rising slightly.

Certainly, Camilla had a point, based on the crowd around them at the moment. Juturna, who rarely seemed to have a good word to say about Pyrrha Nikos, was whooping with glee, both arms raised up into the air; Lausus had picked her up and planted her on his shoulders, hands on her thighs as he swayed a little back and forth, hooting in time with her. Opis was chanting ‘Thirty years! Thirty years!’ in spite of the fact that it had been more than that by now. Aventinus had tears in his eyes, even as he laughed with joy like a child.

“What face would not wear a smile, my lord, now that we have won the Vytal Crown?” asked Camilla. She chuckled. “The Princess Without a Crown is crowned now with laurel on her brow, and who dare frown at that?”

“I take your point,” Turnus said; even those who were envious of her accomplishment would be well-advised now to keep it to themselves for the time being; there would be no talk of Cinder Fall now, or of her teammate and the allegations made against her. Pyrrha Nikos, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, had restored to Mistral its own pride and glory, and nothing would be allowed to take away from that, nothing to detract from this moment of accomplishment, nothing to tarnish what had been restored. If anyone had any doubts about Pyrrha Nikos’ loyalty, her allegiances, her character, nevertheless, they would be well advised to shut up about it, at least for a while. Perhaps not until there was another Mistralian champion to rally behind, but certainly until a discrete interval had passed between then and now.

And some, like Juturna, might even find themselves being swept away by the drama of the moment and smiling anyway until the winter came to dampen the mood.

For himself, he had no envy, except perhaps towards Jaune Arc, that Valish peasant, and even that … this was not a time for envy.

“It is a great night,” Turnus declared. “A night to remember.”

Camilla nodded. “I would that your father were here to see it.”

Turnus’ smile tightened a little. “Indeed. He was never the greatest fan of the arena and the fighters, but he would have liked to have seen Mistral triumph and seen this city given something to crow about for once that didn’t happen generations ago.”

“Shall I…?” Camilla hesitated a moment. “Shall I get us some wine, my lord, and we may toast his memory along with Mistral’s success?”

Turnus half-scoffed, although he was sure that Camilla would not take it as him scoffing at her. “'Wine'? From here? Will it not be the cheapest dishwater swill imaginable?”

“No doubt, it will be nothing compared to some of the vintages in the wine cellar, lord, but if you require me to go to the house and back, I may be some time,” Camilla murmured.

Turnus laughed. “I assure you, I’m not sending you running anywhere; I was just … never mind, forgive me; my … snobbery was in poor taste.”

“As poor a taste as the wine on offer, my lord?” Camilla asked, a touch of mischief creeping into her voice like a child into a forbidden room.

“I have apologised!” Turnus cried. “Go, go — no, stay, stay; I shall get the wine — from here, mind you — and we shall toast; it was a fine idea.”

Camilla nodded. “Then I shall await you here, my lord.”

Turnus nodded in his turn, turning away from her in search of the nearest stall selling wine — assuming that anyone would be in a state to serve him; all the vendors were celebrating as enthusiastically as the spectators. Still, he had no doubt that they would still want lien as much as they wanted to celebrate. He just hoped the queue wouldn’t be too large.

“It’s a grand thing, isn’t it, my lord?” Aventinus asked, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s a really grand thing. If only my Dad were still around to see it.”

“He would have been proud?” Turnus asked.

“He would have been hopping mad that it was her and not him, my lord,” Aventinus admitted. “And jealous as a Valish merchant besides, but … he’d have been pleased for Mistral too, I’ve no doubt. He’d have been glad to see something go the way of this kingdom, as we all are.”

“Indeed,” Turnus said, patting him upon the muscular arm. “Enjoy the night.”

“And you too, my lord,” Aventinus said. His eyes widened as he looked up at the screen. “Gods, look at that!”

Turnus had his back to the screen. He turned around as the cheers of the crowd began to turn to gasps of shock. The cameras, he saw, had panned upwards, away from Pyrrha Nikos and her defeated Atlesian opponent, up to the top of the arena where — was that a nevermore? Were those explosions from missiles?

All cheering had practically died out now, replaced with murmurs of consternation and alarm from people who had no more idea of what was happening than Turnus did.

“Was that,” Juturna began, “was that a grimm?”

“Aye, it was,” Camilla murmured.

“And an Atlesian airship following,” Turnus growled, taking a step towards his sister. “Lausus, put her down.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lausus said, and at once lowered Juturna back onto the ground.

Another ragged gasp ran through the whole crowd as another nevermore descended upon the arena, landing on the forcefield that covered up the hole in the roof and beginning to peck at it with its beak.

“Are the grimm attacking the arena?” Juturna asked. “Has that ever happened before?”

Turnus’ brow furrowed. As far as he was aware, the answer was no. As far as he was aware, it had never been a risk. But it seemed to be happening now, nonetheless.

It was unlikely that those two nevermores were the only grimm in the air over Vale.

He glanced around him, seeing expressions of dismay where there had been joy only a moment before, looks of shock and astonishment replacing exultation and delight. The electricity that had been in the air was gone, replaced by a cold snap, a brittleness born of surprise and a lack of information. Many people — Opis amongst them — had their scrolls out, dividing their attention between the big screen up in front of them and the small screens in their hands as they desperately scrolled through their feeds for additional news about what was going on.

“Someone on the promenade says they can see grimm outside fighting the Atlesians,” Opis said. “They’ve taken a picture of it, here.” She held out her scroll towards Tarpeia, to show her.

“Camilla,” Turnus said. “Take Juturna home. Choose an escort.”

Camilla, the smile gone from her face, nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

“You’re sending me home?” Juturna asked. “Why?”

Because this place might become a riot or a panicked mob soon enough, Turnus thought. The switch from joy to anxiety had been too sudden; it was like too swift a switch from hot to cold, too much too soon. He didn’t want Juturna here if things got out of hand.

“Because the celebration has been cancelled,” he said, a touch of sharpness in his voice.

“But—” Juturna began.

“Juturna,” Camilla said softly. “This is no place for you.” She paused. “And you, my lord?”

“I will stay here for now, see what’s happening,” Turnus said. And besides, while he might send Juturna and Camilla away, he was sufficiently conscious of his own dignity that he didn’t wish to be seen scuttling off the moment an unexpected reversal took place. What would people say if he was seen to be fleeing from the mere image of a grimm on television?

Camilla pursed her lips together, and for a moment, Turnus thought that she would argue with him, but in the event, she did not; she only said, “As you will, my lord.”

“And tell the others to keep their weapons close and stay in the house; I want everyone at hand,” Turnus added.

“Yes, my lord,” Camilla said. “Opis, Tarpeia, with me; Juturna, come.”

“Right behind you,” Opis murmured, and she and Tarpeia fell in behind Camilla as she walked Juturna away from the square and, more importantly, away from a crowd that was looking more fearful by the second.

Other people were starting to leave too. That would be all to the good, provided that it didn’t become a stampede of people trying to get out. Those that remained were looking increasingly dismayed, all their hopes of a few moments earlier crushed in the claws of those nevermores.

“Fine time for this to happen, isn’t it, my lord?” Lausus muttered as he shuffled closer to Turnus.

“Mmm,” Turnus muttered, as he folded his arms across his chest. “It’s as though the gods heard our cheering and decided to punish our hubris.”

“If they wanted to punish us, my lord, then why did they send the grimm all the way over there?” asked Silvia. “Maybe it’s to punish Pyrrha Nikos’ hubris instead?”

“Punish her for what, winning?” Aventinus demanded. “Someone has to win; why not her? Why not us?”

“I was just—”

“Let’s not have any of that sort of talk,” Turnus said firmly. “Especially not here.”

Silvia bowed her head. “Yes, my lord, I’m sorry.” She paused. “Will that shield hold the nevermore?”

“I don’t know,” Turnus admitted. “No shield is impenetrable, but the creature may be killed before it can break through.”

“Even if it does break through, it’s dead anyway,” Aventinus declared. “It’s going to face our new champion down there.” He looked around. “All these people might take some heart then if they see Pyrrha Nikos cut that thing’s head off.”

“No doubt it would raise a cheer,” Turnus allowed. “But what else is going on out there that we cannot see?”

“Yes!” shouted Sky, leaping up into the air and raising her hands up so high that she bashed her fists on the ceiling. “Ow! But yes!” she cried again, lowering her hands this time. “Yes! She did it!”

River grinned. “Someone’s keen.”

Sky turned towards her. “We should all be keen; she’s practically family.”

“Someone’s compensating for something,” Kendal muttered.

“I—” Sky began, pointing at Kendal. But she stopped, no more words emerging out of her mouth. “I … might be doing that thing that you just said,” she admitted, without actually saying the words themselves. She paused, silent, waiting. “But that doesn’t change what I said; she is practically family, right? I think so, and I think you think so as well, and I know mom thinks so because she gave Jaune the engagement ri-hmmm.” She clammed up, her lips becoming very tight and very pale.

River leaned forwards and pushed herself even further forwards on the settee. “Mom gave Jaune the what now?”

Kendal closed her eyes and looked away. Here we go.

“Mom?” River asked. “Did you give Jaune grandma’s engagement ring?”

Mom said nothing.

“Girls,” Dad began, “let’s just focus on—”

“You gave Jaune grandma’s ring?!” River shouted.

“River,” Chester began, “calm down.”

“I am being very calm under the circumstances!” River declared. “You didn’t give Rouge the ring—”

“That’s probably for the best,” Rouge murmured.

“And you didn’t give me the ring, so how come Jaune gets the ring?” River demanded.

Mom sucked in a breath. “Because he’s the eldest son of the family, dear.”

“He’s the only son of the family,” Aoko pointed out.

“Yes, and that makes things much more straightforward,” Mom replied.

“That … that’s so old-fashioned, Mom,” River pointed out. “That’s … that’s almost backwards. Why should Jaune get Grandma’s ring just because he’s a boy?”

“Why should you get the ring at all?” Kendal asked, opening her eyes again. “If we’re going by strict age, then it would be Rouge—”

“I don’t want it,” Rouge said, a touch of a sigh in her voice. “As I said, it’s probably for the best that I didn’t have it. That ring … Grandma’s ring deserves better than to be tarnished by my unhappiness.”

“And it isn’t just Grandma’s ring, it isn’t just a family ring, it’s also Mom’s ring, and she can give it to whoever she likes,” Kendal went on. “And she wanted to give it to Jaune. That’s her choice.”

“And it isn’t old-fashioned at all,” Mom said defensively. “It’s traditional. Chester and … Chester proposed to you, so he got the ring; was I supposed to give him the ring so that he could give it back to you? Jaune is the boy, so he’ll ask Pyrrha, and he can ask her with the family ring; that’s all there is to it.”

“And what does a ring matter anyway?” Chester asked. “Compared to the two of us, and that little life growin’ inside of you.” He reached over her shoulder to place his hand flat on her belly. “Isn’t that what really matters? Isn’t that the important thing?”

“Of course it is,” River said, leaning back on the sofa. “I’m not saying that it ruined our marriage or anything. It just would have been nice to have been asked, Mom.”

“I must admit, I’m more interested in how Sky found out that Mom had given Jaune the ring,” Rouge said. “Why did you tell Sky but not the rest of us?”

“I didn’t,” Mom replied. “How did you know about that, Sky?”

“I am the Sheriff, Mom,” Sky replied. “I know a lot of things about what goes on around here.”

Rouge folded her arms across her chest. “You’ll forgive my scepticism.”

“Oh, just because none of the rest of you noticed that Mom wasn’t wearing her ring means that there’s no way I could have noticed that?” Sky asked. “Because I did. I noticed that Mom wasn’t wearing her ring, and, thinking back to when I’d last her seen her wearing it, I was left with two possibilities: either that Jaune’s team leader had stolen it and run off to Vale to sell or that Mom had given it to Jaune to give to the nice girl that he was obviously infatuated with. It was quite elementary really, a simple deduction. I’m surprised none of you realised.”

“Chester,” River said. “Will you be a darling and throw a shoe at Sky for me?”

“I think that we’re getting off the topic here,” Dad said heavily. “This is about Pyrrha, remember, the new Vytal Champion?”

“Yes, Dad, thank you, this is about Pyrrha,” Sky declared quickly. “Does anyone have any objections to me saying that she’s part of the family?”

Violet made as if to raise her hand off the carpet, but didn’t actually do it. No one else made any move at all.

“No,” Kendal said, speaking for all of them. “No, Jaune’s obviously taken with her, she was our guest at Dad’s party, and I think Mom was right to give Jaune the ring, leaving aside whether he deserves it more than anyone else … he’s going ask, and it was a nice thing to welcome her into the family. Especially considering that we weren’t all very welcoming to her when she was actually here.”

River winced. “Did you have to bring that up?”

“That is why,” Sky said, “I think that we should throw a party.”

“A party?” Rouge repeated. “A party for what?”

Sky rolled her eyes. “A party for Pyrrha! To celebrate the fact that she’s, like, the big champ! We can invite her and Jaune and Sunset and those other two girls he sent us that picture of, the kid and the black haired girl. We can meet all of them! And, you know, considering … considering that we weren’t always that nice to Pyrrha the last time that she was here — and I include myself in that, although I will say that at least I didn’t believe that she might be cheating on Jaune, because unlike the rest of you, I only changed my mind once—”

“Some of us didn’t change our mind at all,” Kendal pointed out.

“The point is,” Sky went on, “that this can be our chance to actually be pleasant to Pyrrha and supportive of her and Jaune for the whole time that they are here, as well as to meet his other teammates and friends. This … this can be our chance to make amends.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Violet said.

“Yes, Vi, we really were,” replied Sky.

“I don’t know,” Rouge murmured. “Considering what happened to her the last time she was here, would Pyrrha want to come back? But, it would be nice to have some fun and laughter around here.”

“Are you saying we’re not a barrel of laughs?” asked River.

Rouge snorted. “I’m saying … that perhaps a party would be a very nice idea.”

“The arena is under attack by grimm,” Aoko said.

She said it in the same flat, affectless voice that Aoko used to say just about anything, but her words landed like the sudden sound of a gun discharged nonetheless.

“Aoko…” Kendal began, twisting around in her seat. “How do you know that?”

“It’s on the live feed,” Aoko replied. “People are reporting seeing grimm around the arena.”

“Well … they’re wrong,” Sky said. “They must be wrong. There’s—”

“What’s that?” Violet demanded, pointing at the television.

Sky turned around, and in the process obscured Kendal’s view of the television. “What the—?”

“I can’t see,” Kendal said. “Get out of the way!”

Sky didn’t reply, but she did move aside, shuffling out of the way so that Kendal — and River, and Chester, and Rouge stood behind the sofa — could see what she and Violet had seen.

“Sky!” Dad barked, half rising from his seat, because Sky was now blocking the view of Mom and Dad.

Sky retreated some more, as Kendal saw out of the corner of her eye, but her attention was mostly fixed on the television.

And at the grimm that she could see on it.

It was a grimm. It wasn’t one that she’d seen personally — the only grimm that she’d seen personally was a beowolf, thank goodness — but she’d seen pictures of it. It was part of her training, how to recognise common grimm around Vale and a degree of advice on what to do about them, assuming you didn’t have a huntsman or huntress with you for protection. With ground grimm, you ran; with airborne grimm, running wouldn’t do you so much good; you’d be better off hiding somewhere it couldn’t see and ideally couldn’t reach: woods, a cave if you could find one, somewhere safe and secure.

This was an airborne grimm, a nevermore. It was on top of the … something, a forcefield or whatever; there was a shield on the roof of the arena, but the nevermore, the big black evil crow with the white bone beak and skull, was sitting on top of it, pecking at the shield like the pigeons and magpies that pecked for worms in their garden.

Except that, once this nevermore was done pecking at the shield, then it would turn into the hawk they sometimes saw perched on the trees overlooking the lawn, to prey on those same pigeons and magpies.

To prey on Pyrrha.

Jaune…

“Run, Kendal, go!”

“But—”

“Go! I’ll catch up! I promise.”

Liar.

“A nevermore,” Rouge murmured.

“That’s right,” Dad said. “How did you know that?”

That’s right, how did Rouge know that?

“Um,” Rouge murmured. “I, um, Jaune told me about some of the monsters he’s fought.”

“Pleasant topic of conversation,” River muttered.

“The point is,” Rouge said quickly, “that they are, that Jaune said they aren’t that dangerous; I’m sure that Pyrrha will be alright.”

“All grimm are dangerous,” Kendal murmured. “All grimm can kill.”

“Well … but … Pyrrha’s just won the big tournament,” Sky said. “I’m sure that she can handle just one—”

“There’s no need to get alarmed,” Dad declared.

“Why?” asked River. “Is this normal? Are grimm supposed to attack at the end of the tournament like this?”

“I don’t think it’s part of the show,” Rouge said.

“No,” Dad admitted. “No, it isn’t—”

“Then that is alarming,” Mom said. “Don’t you think?”

“But it’s not just Pyrrha there, or Jaune,” Dad reminded them. “There have to be twenty, thirty, fifty students, maybe more, and the professors doing the commentary, and maybe Professor Ozpin too, for all I know. Even if that nevermore breaks through the forcefield, they won’t just leave her to fight it off by herself.”

“But what about the other monsters?” asked Mom. “Aoko, dear, what did you say about the live feed? What are people saying?”

“That they can see grimm flying around the arena,” Aoko said. “They can also see them fighting with airships. Probably Atlesian airships because they’ve been there all year, but there might also be some Valish airships as well.”

“Then I’m sure that they’ll take care of the grimm out there just like there are enough huntsmen and huntresses to take care of any that get into the arena,” Dad said. He put his hand upon Mom’s hand, squeezing it. “Jaune’s going to be fine, and Pyrrha too. They’re all going to be fine.” He paused for a moment. “But keep the TV on, so we can see what’s happening.”

“And Aoko,” Kendal said, “if anything else important comes up on that live feed, you’ll tell us, won’t you?”

“How will I know if something is important?” Aoko asked.

“You’ll—” Kendal stopped herself from saying that Aoko would know if it was important because, as much as they loved her, this was Aoko they were talking about, and she might not immediately grasp the import. “Just … any updates from a reputable news source — not the comment section — let us know, okay? Just … keep us informed, please.”

“Right,” Aoko said. “I’ll tell you anything that comes up. But at the moment, all the updates are about how nobody knows what’s going on.”

“I see,” Kendal muttered. She leaned forward and found herself almost against her will or better judgement, clasping her hands together.

Be safe, Jaune.

Be safe, Pyrrha.

Be safe, both of you. Take care of each other.

“Hey,” River murmured, putting a hand on Kendal’s shoulder. “Hey, they’re going to be okay. Like Dad said, it’s all going to be fine.”

Kendal would have liked to believe that. She would have liked oh so badly to have believed that, but considering what she knew, considering what she’d been through … she couldn’t accept it wholeheartedly.

Saphron covered her mouth with one hand as she watched Terra dancing around the living room, pumping her arms up and down, swaying left and right, bouncing on the walls of her feet.

It was a side of her wife that she didn’t get to see too often — even at the base Longest Night party, she was more fastidious and staid than this — and the sight of it here was all the more precious for being so rare.

Who would have thought that the Vytal Tournament, of all things, would bring this out in Terra?

If I’d known that, then I would have … okay, I don’t know how I could have arranged this, but I might have tried.

“I should film this for Adrian,” Saphron said, her voice shaking with mirth.

Terra beamed. “Do it. Go on, get the scroll. I’m not ashamed. It’s coming home! And…” She didn’t completely stop dancing, but she did slow down a little. “It’s pretty cool that it happened because of someone that we know. Or that we know the person who made it possible.”

Saphron grinned. “You’re right. That is pretty cool. Something that we are far too modest to crow about to the neighbours, of course—”

“Of course,” Terra agreed, amusement creeping into her voice.

“And I don’t think Pyrrha would like it if we did,” Saphron added.

“Although you’d think that name Arc would give them a clue,” Terra remarked.

“But,” Saphron went on, “it is pretty cool that we know her. She did great, didn’t she?”

“Oh, yeah, that was one of her best performances, I think,” Terra said. “You know, we should go to Mistral. I’ve got enough time off stored that I can take the vacation, you don’t have a job—”

Saphron put one hand on her hip. “It’s nice to know that you don’t consider raising our son to be a job.”

“It’s not a job you have to beg your boss to let you have days off,” Terra clarified.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Saphron replied. “What’s in Mistral?”

“The big celebration!” Terra cried. “Pyrrha’s Triumph, a public holiday; have you ever been to Mistral for a public holiday?”

“No, I haven’t,” Saphron said. “You’ve promised to take me, but the time has never been right.”

“Well, now the time will be right, for all three of us,” Terra insisted. “We’ll make sure of it. Pyrrha will ride through the streets on a chariot, accompanied by Victory, from the gates to the Temple of Victory where she will dedicate the spoils of her victory to the heavens. And the day will be a holiday, and there’ll be street parties, and we can see Jaune and Pyrrha, and … this might be a once in a lifetime experience. Who knows when a Mistralian will win the Vytal tournament again? If we miss this, I honestly think that we’ll regret it. I’ll certainly regret it.”

“Watching Pyrrha ride in a chariot through the streets?” Saphron asked. “I wonder how Jaune will react to that?”

“You’ll be able to see for yourself if we go to Mistral for it,” Terra pointed out.

Saphron chuckled. “Okay, that … that is a very good point. And it would be nice to see them, to congratulate Pyrrha in person.” She took a step closer to Terra. “Sample the delights of Mistral with you.”

“Well, we could make a week of it; there’ll be stuff going on around the Triumph,” Terra said. “If we can get away from my parents.”

“Oh, so this is going to be a family vacation.”

“We can’t go to Mistral to see the Triumph and not tell my mom; she’s more of a fan than I am,” Terra said. “Which means we’ll need to introduce her to Pyrrha, too.”

“Is she going to embarrass us?”

“Considering the way your family treated Pyrrha, I’m not sure you have any room to talk.”

Saphron blinked. “That … is a fair point. I guess I’m just worried that she’ll gush so much that it puts Pyrrha off.”

“She’s lived half her life in the public eye; I’m sure she’ll handle it with grace, however she really feels,” Terra said. She walked towards the television. “Anyway, let’s watch Pyrrha getting the laurel crown. I wonder if the Amity Princess will dare to show her face after that stunt with the email about Sunset.”

“I hope so,” Saphron replied. “It wasn’t as though she sent that email, after all, and she shouldn’t be punished for something that she didn’t mean to happen. And Sunset didn’t seem to bear her any malice over it; I don’t think she’s got anything to be ashamed of. If she’s the one who is supposed to present the honour, then I hope she’ll—” The words died in her throat as she turned towards the television. Her attention had been off it once the fight ended, her eyes on Terra, and her ears upon their conversation, deaf and blind to what had been going on in the arena.

After all, the fight was over; there wasn’t anything else important that was going to happen there, bar the presentation of the trophy, right? Pyrrha had won, and that was the end of the story.

Except, when Saphron turned back towards the television, she found that the camera wasn’t trained on Pyrrha; it wasn’t even turned on her defeated opponent Weiss Schnee, to capture her reaction to the loss; the camera was now turned upwards, to where a couple of missiles burst in the air.

And where a monstrous crow, an enormous bird with feathers as black as night and a head that was made of bleached bone, sat upon what looked at first like thin air on the arena roof.

Not thin air, a shield. A force field that covered the gap in the ceiling — they had some in Argus, installed by the Atlesian military — and the monster was sitting on it, attacking it with its beak.

“That’s a nevermore,” Terra murmured as she came to stand beside Saphron, putting her hand around Saphron’s arm.

Saphron glanced at her. “You’ve seen one?”

“No,” Terra said, “but one of my yearly CBT modules is grimm recognition and response.”

“So you know what to do about it?”

“According to my training, I should hide under a desk,” Terra replied. “Hopefully, Jaune and Pyrrha are a little better prepared.”

“But what’s it doing there?” Saphron asked. “I mean … that’s a grimm, isn’t it? So what is it … it’s attacking the arena, that can’t be normal!”

Terra stepped in closer to her, pressing her side against Saphron’s arm. “I … I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know if anything like this has ever happened before.”

“I’m calling my family,” Saphron said, fishing her scroll out of her pocket.

“Jaune?”

“No, not Jaune, not with that happening,” Saphron replied. “I just want to make sure that other people are seeing this too, that someone hasn’t hacked our TV or something.”

She opened the scroll with one hand but got a call before she could make one. It was from Rouge.

With her one free hand, Saphron tapped the green button to answer, and her elder sister’s face stared up at her out of the screen.

“Saphron,” Rouge said, “are you watching TV?”

“Yes,” Saphron said. “You?”

Rouge nodded. “So you’ve seen—”

“The grimm,” Saphron finished for her. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”

Rouge swallowed. “Dad says that there’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Dad says that there are a lot of huntsmen and huntresses there besides Jaune and Pyrrha who will take care of things, and there’s no real danger.”

“That sounds like the sort of thing Dad would say to try and keep everyone calm,” Saphron pointed out. “Do you believe him?”

Rouge hesitated. “I’d like to.”

Saphron managed a wan smile. “So would I.”

“You should believe it,” Terra declared, leaning across so that Rouge could see her, her head and face almost pressed against Saphron’s. “The Champion of Mistral will not fall. The former Champion, anyway, and Vytal Champion what is more, the Evenstar of Mistral and the reclaimer of our pride will not fall, not to one nevermore or twenty or two hundred such! She has triumphed today and will triumph tonight, though all the grimm in Remnant come to Vale, still, Mistral’s valour will shock them all! Have faith in Pyrrha. Have faith in Jaune, and in Sunset too, since she can’t be far away, and I have faith in Arslan and the sons and daughters of Haven who didn’t make it quite this far but showed their courage nonetheless.”

Saphron looked at her, even if she had to lean back a little to do it. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” Terra declared. “Mistral’s champions have been in the forefront of battles against the grimm for generations and always have delivered Mistral to safety and to victory, and with the support of the Atlesian military as well, how can she fail? Have heart, all of you. It’ll all be okay, I promise. They’ll all be okay.”

“And these champions, who have led the fight and delivered victory,” Saphron said, “have they always come home at the end of it when the battle was done?”

Terra was silent for a moment. “I have faith,” she said. “And so should you.”

That was certainly an answer; it was not the answer that Saphron would have preferred by any means, but it was an answer nonetheless.

No sooner had the fight concluded than Councillor Aspen Emerald was beginning to mentally compose his statement.

He would write it himself, without any help; he had found that filtering his words through a half-dozen public relations people with PPE degrees — Aspen himself had read Geography — tended to remove his unique voice and render his words rather bland, stale, and, well, like the products of a half dozen PR people. And in any case, after three successive press secretaries had resigned from their posts because they found his voice a little too unique in some instances, Aspen found it was easiest just to speak for himself, in his own words.

Straight-talking … he couldn’t quite claim straight-talking honesty with a straight face, not anymore, but the incident with the press last night had certainly shown that he still had the straight-talking aspect down flat when he wanted it.

He would obviously be less blunt in his statement about the end of the Vytal Festival; there was hardly any call for him to go on the attack here, nobody wanted to hear him savaging Pyrrha Nikos or Weiss Schnee for … what would he even savage them for?

No, this was a moment for rather softer language, for triumphalism without being obnoxious about it, for reflecting the mood of the people of Vale while also leading that mood towards a feeling of success.

Yes, success, triumph even. The Mistralians had not even waited until Miss Nikos had won the tournament to begin working overtime to claim her as one of their own, on the grounds that she happened to have been born in Mistral, but mere accident of birth could not change the fact that she was a Beacon student and had won the tournament under Beacon’s colours, fighting as a representative of the Valish Academy in the Kingdom of Vale.

Might he have preferred it if a Valish student had won the tournament? At one time, perhaps; he should probably be more honest and admit that there was very little 'perhaps' about it; he would once have preferred it if a Valish student had won the tournament, disliking the way that a lot of high-performing foreigners trooped down to Vale, were educated partially at the expense of the Valish taxpayer, and then left again. It was still somewhat of an issue — he would have preferred more of them to stick around in Vale — but at the same time…

It was a hard thing that these children did. It was a hard line of work they were poised to be launched into. Too hard for some of them to bear it, and all the demands that it made on them.

Yet they had fought for Vale. Miss Nikos had fought for Vale, and would do so again no doubt in the years before she departed for Mistral’s far-off shores. If that wasn’t enough to encourage him to let go a little of his curmudgeonly attitude towards non-Valish like her, then what was?

If it wasn’t enough to give him and Vale some claim on her in opposition to her Mistralian birthplace, then what would be sufficient?

This was a victory for Beacon Academy, and Beacon was in Vale, which meant that this was a victory for Vale, regardless of what kingdom Miss Nikos happened to be born in.

That was what people wanted to hear, whether he believed it or not; nobody in Vale wanted to congratulate the Mistralians on their victory, nobody in Vale wanted to join in a chorus of that awful song they insisted on polluting the air with — get over it, for goodness sake! Your self-pity is as insufferable as your sense of entitlement — they wanted to hear that Vale had turned a corner, that the sun was coming up again, that Vale had won and that it would keep on winning.

Aspen was sat in the living room of the First Councillor’s official residence. Aspen had decided not to go and watch any of the matches in person, for all that it might have pleased his son to have done so, partly because he was busy, partly because, unlike his son, he just wasn’t that interested in the tournament, not enough to want to spend the matches high up in the air unable to get away when there was a perfectly good view on the television and he could get up and go into another room whenever he wanted to, and partly because, today, he had been worried that he might get booed by the crowd. It was never a good look when that happened, even if some engagements made it unavoidable.

Bramble was sat on the floor in front of him, his Vytal cards spread out across the carpet — something he wouldn’t have been able to do if they had been up in the arena. There was some sort of game that you could play with them, apparently, but Aspen didn’t entirely understand it, except in as far as it was cheaper than the online game which Aspen wouldn’t allow him to play.

Of course, even though he wasn’t that interested in the fight, he had still made sure to post a picture of himself watching it to all his social media accounts — with a pint of beer beside him, because it was never a bad time to play the everyman figure.

It had been, he had to admit, a reasonably diverting fight. At times, he had gotten engrossed in it.

But now, with the fight over, he turned his mind towards what he would say about the result of the fight.

“I speak for all of Vale… On behalf of all of Vale, I extend… I have no doubt that I speak for all of Vale when I extend our congratulations to Miss Pyrrha Nikos, of Beacon Academy in Vale, for her outstanding victory in this, the Fortieth Vytal Festival. Miss Nikos has added yet another victory to Beacon’s long list of victories in this distinguished tournament, and the reputation of Beacon burns a little brighter because of her achievement.

“Under myself and under my distinguished predecessor, Novo Aris, this government has ensured record funding for Beacon Academy, ensuring that our historic high standards have been maintained and that Beacon continues to attract talent from all across the kingdoms of Remnant.

“Truly, Beacon Academy lives up to its name as a beacon of— oh, no. No. No, that’s awful.

“We are committed to ensuring that— no, that doesn’t follow on.

“We believe that Beacon’s multinational student body is a shining example of the values of diversity promoted by the Vytal Festival, but also a key source of Valish soft po— no, that’s too bald, you can’t talk about soft power; it’s supposed to be subtle.

“Something something diversity,” come on, Aspen, this is supposed to be your job.

“—continues to attract talent from all across the kingdoms of Remnant and will continue to do so in future, a shining ambassador for this kingdom and all of its values.

“Though she was born in Mistral, we proudly embrace Miss Nikos as one of our own.” Take that, Mistral; wind your neck in. “She brings honour to this kingdom in the tournament, just as she has repeatedly defended it in battle over the course of this year.

“What a year this has been for Vale. What a tumultuous year we have had. A year, I must confess, that has not always been marked with triumphs. I took office in the shadow of an act of terrorism, amidst a wave of crime and insecurity, but since I took office…”

How do I make this sound as though I’m not throwing Novo under a bus?

“I took office in the shadow of an act of terrorism, but over this year, we have seen a wave of crime and terrorism successfully suppressed by our brave officers of the law and our gallant huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon Academy. We have seen our defences restored and renewed and strengthened as never before. We have brought down our enemies, and even now, they await the justice of our law. Like Miss Nikos, whose victory we celebrate tonight, Vale has overcome all the challenges that it has faced over this year, and now, I feel quite confident in saying that a brighter future awaits both Miss Nikos and the kingdom.”

“Dad!” Bramble cried, pointing at the television. “Dad, look at this!”

Aspen blinked, and looked, and all thought of his remarks at the conclusion of the Vytal Festival vanished because there was a grimm sat on the Amity Arena.

There was a grimm — one of the flying ones; he couldn’t remember the name of them — sat on top of the Amity Arena, or at least, it was on top of the forcefield looking down into the arena itself.

And what was worse, behind it, Aspen thought that he could see other grimm weaving through the skies, pursued by airships — Atlesian, Valish, or both.

Aspen rose from his seat, his eyes widening. A grimm? Many grimm? He had known that there were grimm gathering outside, but General Blackthorn had told him that they wouldn’t attack, and while Blackthorn had been acting a little strangely, nevertheless … nevertheless, Aspen had wanted to believe him. When Professor Goodwitch told him that grimm hordes would sometimes retreat without an attack, he had wanted to believe her.

He had wanted to believe that they had time and could prepare a counterattack at their own leisure.

It seemed he had been wrong about that.

It seemed the grimm horde had decided to attack after all.

And he was learning about it from the television.

From the damn television!

Aspen swallowed. “Bramble,” he said, “go to your room, now.”

Bramble looked around and up at him. “What’s going on?”

“Go to your room!” Aspen snapped. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more calmly. “I … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, but … I need you to go to your room and stay there, please. Mrs. Hughes!”

Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, came in just a second later. Her face was pale, and Aspen guessed that she, too, had seen what was happening. Her voice trembled a little. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Take my son to his room and make sure that he stays there,” Aspen said.

Mrs. Hughes nodded. “R-right, sir.” She held out a softly shaking hand. “Come along, lad.”

“Mrs. Hughes,” Aspen said as Bramble got up and went to her. “It will be alright. I know that this must seem alarming, but, defended by our Atlesian allies and our own gallant forces, not to mention our exemplary huntsmen and huntresses who—” He realised that he was slipping into giving a speech, and forced himself to stop. “All will be well. Vale is not without defenders, far from it.”

Mrs. Hughes took a deep breath. “Of course, sir. You know best, I’m sure.”

As she departed with Bramble, Aspen hoped that he had managed to give her some cause to feel a little better.

He hesitated for a second, torn between going to his office and staying here where the television was to see what was going on.

He decided to remain here, for the moment at least. He didn’t want to blind himself, and no one else was telling him anything at the moment.

He reached for his scroll where it sat on the table beside his chair.

It went off before he could reach it. Aspen fairly snatched it up off the table, ripping it open to see that it was Ozpin calling him, voice only.

He fumbled, tapping the button to take the call the first time, only making it the second time.

“Good evening, First Councillor,” Ozpin said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but—”

“I hope this is about the grimm I can see perched on the Amity Colosseum,” Aspen muttered.

“Ah, you’re watching the television,” Ozpin said.

“Yes, I am,” Aspen replied. “I was just about to call you.”

“I thought it best to inform you, Mister Councillor,” Ozpin said. “At present, the grimm activity is restricted to the air, with various flying grimm moving towards and around the Amity Arena. General Ironwood’s forces are engaging them. General Ironwood believes, and I agree with him, that under the circumstances, it would be best not to try and evacuate the spectators from the arena until the grimm around the colosseum have been, at the least, thinned out in numbers.”

“And if they get into the arena?” Aspen asked.

“Then I trust that Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck will lead the students — supported by the Atlesian troops on guard — in protecting the people,” Ozpin told him.

“I see,” Aspen murmured. “And the grimm aren’t moving in anywhere else, it’s just the Amity Arena?”

“For now.”

“You think that will change?” Aspen asked.

“I don’t know,” Ozpin told him. “But I would be remiss if I assumed that it would not.”

“Yes, I suppose you would,” Aspen muttered. “What about the Valish forces, what are they doing?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell,” Ozpin said blandly.

“'Nothing'?” Aspen repeated. “Nothing at all?”

“No, First Councillor.”

“Have you heard from General Blackthorn?”

“No, First Councillor.”

“What the—?” Aspen bit back his response. Ozpin didn’t need to hear it. “Thank you, Ozpin. Do you think General Ironwood has this in hand?”

“For now, I think so, yes.”

“Then I’ll let you get on with it,” Aspen said. “Keep me informed if anything changes.”

“Of course, First Councillor,” Ozpin said. “If I may, don’t worry too much; this is nothing that General Ironwood’s forces can’t handle.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“One can rarely be sure about anything, especially not a battle,” Ozpin said. “But, in this matter, I believe in James.”

“It seems we had all best believe in him,” Aspen said, half growling it. We have little choice at the moment. “Goodbye, Ozpin, and good luck.”

“Thank you, First Councillor,” Ozpin replied, and then hung up on him.

Aspen found he couldn’t begrudge the man that; he must feel very busy at the moment.

He only wished that someone else seemed to feel busy too.

He called General Blackthorn. The commanding officer of the Valish Defence Forces took a long — unconscionably long, in the circumstances — time to answer him, time enough to set Aspen’s foot tapping up and down while his pulse quickened.

Yes, in such a situation, General Blackthorn was hopefully busy, but he could have an aide answer for him, couldn’t he? He could respond somehow! Aspen Emerald was the First Councillor of Vale; he had a right to be kept informed when his city was under attack!

At last, after too long, Blackthorn answered, and answered personally.

“What is it?” he demanded.

Aspen sucked in a breath and bit back a remark about Blackthorn’s tone. This wasn’t the time. “General,” he said. “Have you been watching the Vytal Tournament?”

“I have better things to do than waste my time on such nonsense,” Blackthorn said.

“Well, if you had been watching,” Aspen told him, “you might have seen that there’s a grimm perched on top of the Colosseum! And Ozpin tells me that there are other grimm surrounding the arena.”

“Yes, that,” Blackthorn said. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Oh, well that’s alright then!” Aspen snapped. “Nice of you to inform me that there is a grimm perched on the Amity Colosseum which is above this city! What are you planning to do about it? Ozpin informs me that it’s only Ironwood’s Atlesians that are bothering to defend the Arena and all aboard it; what are our pilots doing?”

“We’re completing our final preparations,” Blackthorn replied, his voice sounding a little stiff and unnatural.

Better late than never, I suppose, Aspen thought. “And then you’ll join the Atlesians in repelling the grimm?”

“We’re about to sortie now, Councillor,” Blackthorn told him. “I assure you, everything is well in hand. Very soon, everything will be taken care of.”

Author's Note

The cliffhanger ending of the actual tournament final didn't let us check in on the reactions of the characters to the fight, so we kind of do that here as well as seeing there reaction to the fact that the tournament has been... interrupted feels the wrong word but also the appropriate word, interrupted by the grimm attack.

Americans, who don't seem to go in for gongs or honours of any kind may find the idea that Lionheart could get given things just for being the headmaster of a winning school, or that Pyrrha might get honours for winning the tournament over and above winning the tournament, but from my perspective this is perfectly normal. Andy Murray is, in fact, Sir Andrew Murray OBE, Emma Raducanu is an MBE, and Gareth Southgate is an OBE even though his team hasn't even won anything yet! I don't know if the Lionesses have been given their gongs yet, but if they haven't they'll no doubt get them soon.

Plus I had fun coming up with the Mistralian honours system.

The Companions were the elite cavalry of the Macedonian army, so-called because they were drawn from the ranks of the aristocracy who were expected to be the, well, companions of the king in peace as well as in war. The Agema Squadron was an elite within an elite, and served as the royal bodyguard (there were also Agema units of the Hypasists and Pezhetairoi which similarly served as the elite battalions of their respective groups).

The hypaspists, the elite infantry of Alexander, were eventually armed with silver shields, becoming known as the Silver Shields. A unit of the same name continued to exist in the Seleucid army. Units of Bronze Shields existed in the armies of both Pontus and the Antigonid Macedonians. This is why the highest honour is a Silver Shield, not a Gold Shield, there was no Gold Shield unit that I'm aware of from the Hellenistic period.

Battle in the Arena (Rewritten)

Battle in the Arena

Weiss licked her lips. "This certainly puts winning or losing into perspective, doesn't it?"

Pyrrha did not respond. Not because Weiss was wrong — she was absolutely right, with no grounds on which she could be reasonably disagreed with — but because, well, because there were no grounds on which she could be disagreed with.

Just being here, which had half seemed the centre of the world mere moments ago, now seemed a worthless place, a place of no consequence, a place which she was quite anxious to be out of and away from.

As she recovered her weapons, Pyrrha wanted nothing more than to be out of here, away from here, somewhere of more use and utility, wherever that might be.

The rising of the platform seemed so achingly slow, grindingly slow, a painful and protracted drag holding her in this pointless place where she could do nothing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Professor Port called to the crowd. "Please remain calm—"

A nevermore detached itself from the swirling mass of grimm that swooped above the arena, visible as they passed above the hole in the ceiling. This particular grimm blocked out that hole as it descended on it, landing on top of the forcefield that was supposed to keep stray fire in. Now it was the only thing keeping the grimm out.

Professor Port's call for calm fell on deaf ears; Pyrrha could hear the cries of alarm from the crowd above them, and she could see movement in the stands like the waves of the roiling sea as people began to struggle for the exits.

Pyrrha thought of her mother, neither able to flee swiftly nor well suited for a panicked crush of people. She thought of little Soojin Wong, too, who had already had a bad experience in that regard, an experience that would be as nothing compared to this.

And she was down here and could do nothing. Could this platform rise no faster?

The nevermore began to assail the barrier, its immense bone beak descending to slam down into the barrier.

A series of blue-green ripples spread out across the shield from the point of impact.

Pyrrha switched Miló into rifle mode as she heard the cries of alarm grow louder.

The nevermore's beak rose and fell in a succession of sharp pecking motions, each one causing more ripples across the barrier than the one before.

"That barrier isn't designed for this," Weiss said, her tone grave. "It won't hold."

Pyrrha reloaded, discharging the magazine she had expended and pulling a fresh one out of a pouch on her belt. It fit into Miló so flawlessly that, once in place, it could not be seen.

"How's your au—?" she began, turning to Weiss, then stopped as her mind caught up with her mouth and she realised what a ludicrous question that was. How was Weiss' aura? She knew what state Weiss' aura was in; it was in the red, thanks to her.

That no longer seemed such a good thing as once it had.

The fact that the platform had almost returned to its level, that soon, the rest of the arena surface would re-emerge back into place, was the bright spot in all this.

Pyrrha turned away from Weiss, looking up at the nevermore as it assaulted the barrier. Her sash swirled lazily around her leg as she turned.

"Head for the tunnel as soon as you can," Pyrrha instructed. "I'll get its attention and draw it down to me." She put Miló to her shoulder. The moment the nevermore broke through the barrier, she would shoot it. That should hopefully be enough to have it focussing on her and ignoring the spectators in the stands, not to mention Weiss.

There was a moment in which Weiss said nothing, and the only sound was the broiling alarm of the crowd above.

Then Weiss spoke, in a voice that was thick with indignation. "You want me to run away?”

Pyrrha winced slightly. “Your aura is—”

“I’m well aware of the state of my aura, thank you very much!” Weiss snapped. “But whether I have full aura, low aura, or no aura at all, I will not tuck my tail between my legs and scurry off into a dark tunnel like some … some beetle! I am a huntress and a Schnee and…” — her voice dropped — “and a brave girl, I hope. I will not run.”

“Very well,” Pyrrha murmured. “I cry your pardon.”

The nevermore’s beak slammed down into the shield once more.

“Again, your words hit harder than your blows,” Weiss muttered.

“I did not mean to insult your courage,” Pyrrha explained, not taking her eyes off the grimm. “But to die in battle might be thought cause for sorrow; to die on television where the whole world can see it might be said to do more harm than good.”

The nevermore’s beak descended like a hammer upon fresh-forged steel.

“Well,” Weiss said softly, “then it is a good thing that I’ve no intention of dying, isn’t it?”

The nevermore’s beak struck the shield, the shield that shattered, leaving the nevermore standing on thin air now, no barrier between it and Pyrrha and Weiss.

No barrier, more importantly, between the spectators in the stands and the grimm, for all the barriers had failed at once; like the CCT, once failed one, so failed all.

The nevermore shrieked in triumph. Its high-pitched keening cry was answered by the roar of Miló as Pyrrha fired her first shot.

“Here I am!” Pyrrha yelled, in a manner that would have seemed melodramatic in other circumstances. “Come and get me!”

Weiss fired too, blasts of dust leaping from her slender rapier, although she used none of her glyphs — yet — probably because she had not the aura for them.

They were not needed to get the nevermore’s attention; it shrieked against as it hung suspended in the air, wings beating. It flapped its wings more violently, as though it were trying to slam them together, and a host of black feathers fell like hailstones down from the sky towards Pyrrha and Weiss where they stood upon the battlefield.

Pyrrha leapt aside, trusting in Weiss to do the same, clearing the central hexagon and raising Akoúo̱ in one hand above her head as she rolled across the metal struts and the white surface, across the lantern symbol of Haven Academy, her sash trailing after her as, all around, the feathers slammed down onto the floor, piercing the metal until the arena was a forest of feathers, all sticking upright like trees.

The nevermore descended, maw opened gaping wide.

A rainbow comet shot out from one side of the stands to collide with the grimm in mid-air.

"What in the Lady's grace?" Neon gasped as the Atlesians saw the missile explode above the Colosseum, just visible from their perspective through the gap in the ceiling.

All their eyes, young and old alike, turned in that direction. Weiss and Pyrrha were both forgotten in favour of the Skydarts and Skyhawks that they could see duelling with nevermores on the skies over the arena.

Right in the skies over the arena.

So, this was happening. Just like Cinder had said it would, just like the general had been worried it would, the grimm were coming for them.

Made you wonder what else Cinder had been telling the truth about.

Rainbow spared a little worry for Trixie and Starlight, before reminding herself that even if Tempest was a traitor — and she might be; Rainbow couldn't say for sure she wasn't — she'd have to go some to be the equal of Trixie and Starlight combined, both of them on their guard against her.

Things might look bleak, but those were the moments when you could rely on Trixie the most.

And things weren't even that bleak yet.

"What's goin' on up there?" asked Apple Bloom, shrinking back in her seat a little.

"It's gonna be okay, kids," Rainbow assured her. Her gaze fell on Scootaloo. "It's going to be okay." Scootaloo's aunts might not agree with her when they all got back to Canterlot, but Rainbow believed it.

Yes, the presence of grimm over the arena wasn't wonderful, and there was likely to be some hard fighting ahead, but just because it might be hard didn't mean they couldn't handle it, and for right now specifically, the Atlesian forces would take the skies around the arena back, she was certain of it.

Air power was a key ingredient of Atlesian advantage over the grimm; they weren't going to lose it.

Blake rose from her seat. "We need to move," she declared. "Mom, come on."

"No, not yet," Rainbow said. "Ma'am, Cadance, it's best if you stay where you are for now."

Blake frowned. "But our orders—"

"Our orders are to keep your mom and the Councillor safe," Rainbow said. "But there are more grimm out there than there are in here, so we're better off sitting tight for now until our airships have cleared the skies." She paused. "Twilight, call the General and confirm that. I want to keep my hands free."

She didn't say — she didn't need to say — why she wanted to keep her hands free.

Neon's eyes narrowed. "Did you know this was coming?"

"No one can know with complete accuracy the mind of the grimm," Ciel murmured.

"But you thought this might happen," Neon retorted. "There were orders in place for if it did—"

"The grimm outside Vale aren't exactly hiding," Rainbow pointed out. "Of course General Ironwood thought about what to do if they attacked."

"But we didn't think they'd be opening their attack here," Twilight added as she got out her scroll. "It does change the context of—"

A nevermore broke off from the aerial battle raging above — and probably all around — them, dropping down onto the hard light barrier that closed off the arena from above.

As the grimm began to attack the barrier, pecking relentlessly at it with its beak, Sweetie Belle whimpered and clutched Rarity's arm with both hands.

"It's going to be okay," Rainbow insisted. "This is … remember Cadance's wedding? Remember how, even though that was kind if hairy and a little bit scary for a minute, it all worked out in the end? We all came out smiling?" She smiled now. "Well, it's going to be like that, and hopefully not even as scary, because we don't even have to call for help this time; all the backup we need is right outside."

Hopefully, none of them remembered the fact that Vice Principal Luna had gotten run through with her aura down when Chrysalis first took them by surprise and it had been a lowkey miracle that she’d pulled through okay.

By the way that one hand went to her neck, Twilight remembered at least one other detail about that day, but she also remembered — she had to remember — that Chrysalis had dropped her before anything happened after Rainbow socked her on the jaw.

And they all remembered that they had, just as Rainbow had reminded the girls, come out smiling: they had held the wedding that evening aboard the Valiant, General Ironwood officiating by the power vested in him as a flag officer aboard ship, and yeah, their dresses were a little tatty, and some of their more elaborate hairdos had gotten kind of messed up, and sure, the whole thing could have been a lot more photogenic than it ended up being, but so what? It was a great night all the same, after they’d passed through the trials and the troubles to the starlight beyond. And it would be just the same here; maybe they wouldn’t have this all wrapped up and squared away in time for the planned fireworks and Pyrrha’s victory celebration, but there would be a brighter day to come, she was certain of it.

A brighter day for all of them.

They just had a few grimm to take care of first.

"Everyone, please get or keep your heads down," Ciel requested as she swung Distant Thunder's large barrel around and up towards the nevermore.

Applejack was also taking aim, her rifle at her shoulder.

"Don't shoot," Rainbow said. "You'll draw its attention towards us, and we don't want that." Not with the kids here, not to mention Cadance and Lady Belladonna, she could have added but had no need to. "I've got a better idea." She walked to the edge of the box, in front of everyone else, vaulting up so that she was crouched on the edge of the railing, one arm out, the fingertips of her other hand resting lightly upon the cool metal. "Rarity, once the shields drop, can you put up a barrier in front of the stands on the far side of the arena, opposite me?"

"How big a barrier do you want, darling?" Rarity asked.

"As big as you can give me," Rainbow replied, looking back at Rarity over her shoulder.

"I see," Rarity murmured. "Or at least, I think I do." A slight smile played across her painted lips, despite the situation. "I'll do my best, dear."

She got up; her left hand fussed with the chunky golden bracelet around her right wrist. She took a couple of steps forward, high heels clicking on the metal floor of the box as she moved to stand beside Rainbow Dash.

The nevermore's beak slammed down, breaking the shield. There was a ripple of green light in front of Rainbow and the others as all the barriers separating the crowd from the arena dropped at once. A roar of fright went up from the crowd, which had been panicking already in spite of Professor Port telling everybody to stay calm.

If Rainbow hadn't known more about what was going on, she wouldn't have been feeling very calm either.

She wasn't very calm now. She wasn't scared, but her heart was beating faster nonetheless.

Rarity flung out her hands, and a wall of barriers, flat hexagonal diamond-shaped panels that glowed a bright and brilliant blue, began to appear on the other side of the arena from Rainbow Dash. This was Rarity's semblance; she could create these constructs with her aura. She could control the size of them, and if they were close enough, then she could move them with her hands, and the best part was they didn't even cost her a lot of aura. That was how Rarity was able to make so many of them now, a regular beehive of the almost honeycomb-shaped diamonds growing out from a central point to cover off more of the stands on the far side.

Because of the noise of the crowd, the sound of the gunshot was overwhelmed; Rainbow only just heard it. It hadn't come from Applejack, and it certainly hadn't come from Ciel; it had come from Pyrrha down below.

Evidently, she wanted to get the grimm's attention.

Thank you, Pyrrha.

The nevermore shrieked in outrage, unleashing a storm of feathers down on Pyrrha and Weiss — why didn't Weiss retreat, she didn't have enough aura left to stand fast for a fight like this? — which didn't look as though it hit either of them; Pyrrha dived out of the way and kept on dodging, while Weiss burned some more of her aura on protective glyphs.

What are you still doing down there, Weiss? Now, Rainbow was starting to get a little scared.

The nevermore howled as it descended, tucking its wings in as it dove through the hole in the centre of the ceiling. Its mouth was gaping wide open, and its eyes were fixed on Pyrrha and Weiss.

Perfect.

The nevermore swooped down, passing in front of Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow leapt, the Wings of Harmony unfurling, a rainbow trail flying out behind her as she kicked with aura and semblance off her precarious perch and soared across the empty air. Her aura had come back a bit during the gap between her semifinal match and now — certainly, she was in a better state to face the nevermore than she had been to face Weiss — and she put some of that regenerated aura into the blow as she threw a punch at the giant grimm. She hit it in the neck, just behind the bony skull with its swirling red and orange patterns. She didn't hit it hard enough to kill it, but she did hit it hard enough to knock it off course, sending it flying sideways across the arena, into the honeycomb of barriers that Rainbow had had Rarity throw up. The nevermore crashed into the barricade with a cry of pain and anger as one wing was crushed between its body and Rarity's shields.

Rainbow didn't give it a chance to recover. She grabbed the nevermore, reaching out as far as she could as though she were trying to wrap her arms around the flier's neck; she couldn't reach, she knew she couldn't reach, the grimm was too big for that, but she was able to get a ways at least, pressing her body up against the nevermore, digging her fingers past the feathers and into the oily, greasy skin beneath. It was slippery and hard to find a purchase, Rainbow's hands threatened to slide away; she could feel the nevermore's feathers, as sharp as knives or razor blades, cutting at her aura wherever they came into contact, but Rainbow persisted, gouging into the grimm with her bare hands until she was confident that she had a tight hold.

The nevermore thrashed, shaking its neck from side to side, trying to crane its head around to bite Rainbow Dash, but Rainbow was too close to the head, only just behind it; the nevermore could see her with one baleful red eye, but it couldn't reach her with its beak.

Rainbow smirked, and her Wings of Harmony began to blast downwards, the jetpack firing at full throttle.

The nevermore began to descend, pulled down by the force of Rainbow's jetpack. The grimm cried out, straining and squirming in Rainbow's grasp, flapping the one wing that it could still move, flailing with talons and beak alike in a frantic, futile effort to get at Rainbow Dash.

It slid down Rarity's barrier.

The nevermore pushed itself away from the diamonds, flapping both wings as it tried to pull itself up, shaking like a wet dog to throw Rainbow Dash off and away. Rainbow clung on, tightening her grip into the slick and oily darkness of the grimm, her jetpack burning white hot.

The grimm and the huntress hung in place for a moment, wings warring against wings, black feathers against fire and metal, primal savagery and eldritch strength pushing against Atlesian technology and Twilight's ingenuity.

The Wings of Harmony won out as, suddenly, the nevermore's strength seemed to depart, and the two were plummeting headlong like lightning down towards the arena floor.

"Out of the way!" Rainbow shouted, in case Weiss or Pyrrha had missed what was going on.

The nevermore shrieked in alarm.

Rainbow drove it head-first into the centre of the battlefield, the grimm's cry cut off as it landed with a crunch. Its neck twisted, head bent at an awkward angle to its body; its wings and talon twitched, it might not have been dead yet.

Pyrrha clearly wasn't in the mood to wait and see. She charged in, sash and hair both streaming out after her, the light of the spotlights reflecting off her gilded armour as she thrust her spear into the nevermore between Rainbow's shoulder and the creature's skull.

The nevermore began to turn to ashes, or had it started to slowly turn just before Pyrrha had driven her spear home?

Either way, it was dead now, and Rainbow had to get off, or she'd drop through the air where it used to be. She leapt off the decaying remains, kicking a feather aside where it threatened to obstruct her, turning her face upwards towards the gap in the ceiling.

There were no more grimm coming that way — yet.

The griffons snapped and snarled as they descended through the opening down into the arena.

Glad I didn’t say that out loud.

The roar of Distant Thunder, louder than the crowd which was trying to get out of the stands, echoed off the sides of the arena as a griffon disappeared in a puff of smoke and ashes. Rainbow could understand why Ciel had taken the shot: instead of one nevermore, it was a lot of griffons, and they might spread out all over the place if they were left unchecked.

“Weiss, take cover!” Rainbow cried as she kicked off the ground.

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?” Weiss demanded, and maybe she said something else, but if she did, then her words were snatched away, and Rainbow didn’t hear them.

Because Rainbow was already off and up, shooting towards the flock of griffons — she counted about twenty of them, well, nineteen — pouring in from outside. They had birdlike heads, smaller than the nevermore’s but no less sharp, and long and spindly front legs ending in long bone claws like knives. Their bodies were a little thicker behind the legs, ending in strong, muscular-looking hind legs and a tail that was tipped with little bone spikes like a mace.

As they dropped in through the opening in the roof, they were already starting to spread out.

Rainbow drew her machine pistols from their holsters, Plane Awesome and Brutal Honesty blazing in her hands as she fired almost at random, switching between targets with each burst, not trying to kill any one grimm but trying to get all of them to focus upon her rather than the people in the stands.

The griffons hissed angrily as they began to round on her, moving like a single creature made up of a lot of different parts, every griffon moving as one to surround Rainbow Dash.

Distant Thunder roared again, and another griffon was obliterated into ash and lingering smoke.

And from down on the ground, green lasers leapt up, slicing into the densely packed flock, lighting up the darkness. The lasers pulsed rapidly, beams firing one after the other in quick succession, piercing into the grimm.

The grimm that turned away from Rainbow Dash and began to dive down towards the floor of the arena, where Penny stood.

When the grimm started flying about the arena, when they could see them flying overhead, fighting with the Atlesian airships, Penny hadn’t known what to do.

She knew that, as the new leader of Team SAPR, she probably ought to know what to do; she had a sneaking and sinking suspicion that Sunset would have known what to do, and she was certain that Ruby would have known what to do … but that didn’t actually help her to work out what to do; it only made her feel worse for the indecision.

She wasn’t sure what was next.

Yes, they’d known that the grimm might attack, Cinder had told Sunset and Pyrrha that there was an attack coming, along with some other things, but now it seemed that the attack had started … or had it? Well, there were grimm flying around, so that meant that it had probably started, but what if it was only here? And Penny couldn’t fly, and neither could Jaune or Pyrrha, so what were they supposed to do about it?

Maybe she could stand on the promenade and shoot at them from a distance.

Although if she did that, then she might hit an airship.

Being a team leader was not easy. Not easy at all. What should she do? What was she supposed to do?

I’m supposed to keep calm and not let on that I don’t know what my next move is.

Yes. Yes, that was it. That was the starting point. She didn’t know what Sunset would do in this situation, but she remembered the way that Sunset had gone down the line in Mountain Glenn, trying to make everyone feel better.

“Don’t tell anyone, but neither am I.”

Maybe Penny couldn’t make anyone feel better like that, Jaune or Pyrrha, and she didn’t know what to say to make Ruby feel better, but she could at least not lose her head just because things were happening. She had to keep … maybe not keep calm, but she had to look like she was keeping calm, or else other people would panic too.

And people were starting to panic already; she could hear them behind her, and when she turned around, she could see the people in the stands, the people who’d been celebrating Pyrrha’s spectacular victory just a few moments ago, rushing to try and get out.

Get out…

Penny’s eyes widened, because she knew what the next step was now. If the grimm were attacking, then it was their job to get back to Beacon and protect Amber, in case someone tried to use the confusion to get to her.

Penny stood up, because everything was clear now. They were going to go down, get Pyrrha, then get on a skybus down to Beacon and link up with Ruby and Amber and Dove. And then … and then they would keep her safe. Maybe Professor Ozpin would have a plan as to how best to do that, but if not, then Penny would just … perhaps she should get Amber up onto one of General Ironwood’s ships, that would be safe.

Except maybe from the flying grimm.

That could wait until later, anyway; for now, she knew what she needed to do.

What her team needed to do.

“Jaune,” Penny said, turning to face him, “come with me, we need to—”

The nevermore dropped down onto the hard-light barrier, attacking it with its beak, trying to break through to get into the colosseum below.

With Pyrrha and Weiss Schnee right below.

And just like that, the plan changed.

“Come on, Jaune!” Penny cried, not bothering to look if he was following her as she ran for the stairs; she didn’t need to look, Jaune would follow her. He would want to get to Pyrrha just as much as she did.

Because that part of the plan hadn’t changed. They were still going to get to Pyrrha, and then they were going to help her fight.

Penny ran for the stairs, and then down then, her feet rattling the metal, clattering on it; she ran so fast that she almost tripped over as she ran, but she didn’t mind; it wasn’t as though it would have hurt her.

She wasn’t just anxious for Pyrrha — she didn’t know how long that barrier would hold against the nevermore — and she didn’t just want to get to her in time. There was another, maybe a little more selfish reason for hurrying, and that was that she was sure that any second now, one of the Haven students, maybe Arslan Altan, or that Medea girl from Team JAMM, was going to shout ‘to the princess!’ and they would all rush down the stairs and down the corridor and into the arena to help her out.

She thought that they’d do that because … because they were the Haven students, because they were the Mistral students, and they’d all read that book where everyone was kind of mean and awful to one another.

Except, skipping around a bit because she wasn’t enjoying it very much, Penny had come across the part where the Mistralians broke the truce in a doomed attempt to save Juturna — she’d liked that part, although she already knew that Juturna died, which took some of the ‘punch the air’ feeling out of it — and with the way that all the Mistralians seemed to love that book, and Pyrrha, she thought that something like that might happen any second now.

Which was good, of course, the more the merrier, but she was Pyrrha’s friend, and she was Pyrrha’s new team leader and, if she let Arslan or Medea or any of the other Haven students get there before her and Jaune, then … then it would be really embarrassing.

It was as if she could hear Sunset whispering in her ear, telling her to uphold the honour of Team SAPR and show who Pyrrha’s real friends were.

And so she ran, trusting to Jaune to follow her; she ran down the stairs and down the dark corridor, following the turns as her footsteps hammered on the floor until she burst out of the corridor and into the light.

Just in time to see Pyrrha stab the nevermore in the neck and kill it.

Penny wasn’t entirely sure how it had gotten down there, but she’d bet that Rainbow Dash — who jumped off the nevermore before its body could disappear — had something to do with it.

It was a little bit deflating, to be honest.

Although she was glad that Pyrrha — and everyone else — was okay, of course.

But she wouldn’t have minded the chance to save the day. Or at least save Pyrrha.

Nevertheless, hiding some of her feelings as a team leader should, Penny started towards them.

It was then that more grimm started to drop in through the hole in the ceiling: griffons this time, a lot of griffons, and there were still a lot of griffons even after Ciel had shot one of them.

Rainbow Dash took to the skies to fight them, shouting something to Weiss which Weiss didn’t seem very happy about — something about hiding? Yes, Weiss, Rainbow could be a little controlling, and it did get annoying sometimes; you had to try and remember that she meant well — as she did so, although she didn’t stick around to hear Weiss’ irritated response. No, Rainbow soared upwards, her wings outspread.

She did look wonderful when she was in the air, even when she was shooting at a swarm of grimm, firing randomly—

No, not firing randomly. She was firing at a lot of different targets, but that wasn’t the same thing as spraying bullets. Every shot was on target; it was just that the targets kept changing.

She was trying to draw the grimm onto her.

I might have a better idea, Penny thought, as her back opened up and Floating Array popped out. She could feel her swords, connected to her through the wires that plugged into her spine, and it only took a thought for them to form up like Atlesian airships, floating in a halo around her, pointing towards the griffons that were beginning to turn on Rainbow Dash.

Another thought, and every sword of Floating Array snapped in half, folding to unveil the lasers that were their alternate modes.

Penny didn’t need to do anything but think to start shooting. The green lasers lanced up from her carbines. Like Rainbow Dash, she targeted a lot of different grimm; thanks to her advanced targeting system, she could fix every laser on a different griffon without any strain whatsoever.

Luckily, griffons weren’t that big, so she didn’t need to concentrate her fire the way she would have if this had been a giant nevermore.

Her lasers fired, and the beams punctured the griffons, knocking them back up into the sky, piercing their black bodies and turning them to smoke.

Ciel was firing too — Penny could hear the loud sound of Distant Thunder — but it seemed to be Penny’s lasers that were aggravating the grimm more, maybe because they could see where her lasers were coming from.

They could see her, and they growled at her as they swooped down towards her, ignoring Rainbow Dash.

Well, the one that Rainbow grabbed around the neck and held in a headlong while it struggled and shot it until it died wasn’t ignoring Rainbow Dash, but the rest of them that were headed straight for Penny, they ignored her.

Sometimes, grimm had very short attention spans.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel like she had the same problem sometimes.

But her lasers kept shooting, in spite of other things that she might be noticing at the time, they kept on firing at the grimm even while they dropped down towards her. The griffons were getting better at dodging her fire now that they knew it was coming, especially when they swerved towards the stands where she didn’t want to shoot in case she actually hit anyone, but even so, she still managed to get a couple more hits. One glanced off a griffon’s bony skull — maybe there were advantages to concentrating her fire — but another laser beam penetrated a griffon’s chest and killed it stone dead.

Are you still watching this, Father? You wanted me to show what I could do in front of Remnant, and here I am.

The weapons of Floating Array snapped back from carbines into swords as the griffons got closer. Penny focussed now, focussing upon the griffon that survived that shot from her lasers — not that she was upset about it or anything — as she swept her arm in a wide arm in front of her.

It didn’t actually do anything, but it looked good, and if there was one thing that Penny had learned from Pyrrha, it was that there was nothing wrong with a little bit of showing off if you could get away with it.

Penny hoped very much that she could get away with it.

She swept her arms out in front of her, and as she did so, more or less in sync, her swords swept around in a wave, a wave that cut through the air before they slammed in rapid succession into that offending griffon. The grimm howled as one after another the swords cut through its belly, slicing up until the griffon was cut in two, and both halves turning to ashes as they fell down to the ground.

The griffons that had scattered in the face of her lasers now regrouped, flocking together just like they had around Rainbow Dash, flying back and forth in front of her, moving so close together that she could hardly, that she couldn’t make out the individual griffons, just a mass of black bodies, feathers, and the occasional flash of a white bone … something.

It was like a cloud moving towards her. Moving to surround her.

Penny drew back her swords, bringing one hand up and back level with her face as though she were holding a sword, even as Floating Array reformed the ring around her head and body.

Penny thrust her arm out as though she were making a palm strike, and her swords thrust out too, all of them straight ahead, driving into the black mass.

They wouldn’t be so easy to lose track of once she wounded them.

She was right about that, mostly; every griffon that she’d hit cried out in pain, and they split off from the group, each of them going their own way, trying to get away.

No. Not trying to get away; they were trying to pull on Penny’s swords, and the wires that led back to her!

Penny yanked her swords back, no fancy moving her hands this time, just drawing her swords out of the bodies of the grimm before she got pulled anywhere. The blades of Floating Array slid free, but one griffon turned quickly, grabbing the sword with claws and beak, biting down upon the flat of the sword, fighting with her for control of it.

Penny sent her other swords flying towards the grimm, piercing the griffon from all directions, but even as those other swords rammed home to end the griffon’s life, two more griffons had grabbed hold of the wire that bound the blade to her.

Penny was yanked off balance, but even as she stumbled forwards, she counterattacked, her free swords lashing out. The griffons let go, but more griffons were close by, very close, flocking all around.

Penny spun, and her swords spun with her, a wheel of swords standing guard between her and the grimm.

The grimm that flew around her in a black mass, wings beating, beaks snapping, low growls ripping from their throats. They surrounded her, but they didn’t get close. They couldn’t get close; Floating Array was keeping them at bay. Her swords circled around her, slicing into this griffon or that, and though they didn’t kill any of them, none of them got close to her either.

Pyrrha charged into their midst, her gold armour and fluttering red sash burning brightly in the middle of the black of the grimm as she cut into them. Her spear moved so fast that Penny couldn’t keep track of it with her optic sensors.

Rainbow dropped in as well, literally, dropping out of the sky to drive a griffon into the ground with both feet. And even Jaune rushed forward, his arm glowing as he concentrated his aura, strengthening himself to slice off a griffon’s head in a single blow.

“For Mistral!” Arslan cried as she led the Haven students out of the tunnel, spilling out onto the battlefield in a wild charge with swords and bows or simply bare fists, slamming into the griffons from the flank. Team YRBN were with them too — all except Blake — and Weiss’ teammates, and Penny was surprised to see Shade’s Team UMBR with them as well. They swept into the diminished number of griffons, breaking the dense formation of swirling grimm, splitting the griffons off into a series of individuals that could be dealt with by the huntresses and huntsmen.

“I think I might keep this one, Ren!” Nora yelled as she hopped onto a griffon’s back, swinging her hammer around over her head with wild abandon as it tried to throw her off.

Yang killed it, flowing fluidly around its snapping beak before landing a one-two punch, her gauntlets firing, to blow its head clean off. “Focus, Nora,” she remonstrated.

“Killjoy,” Nora muttered as she leapt off the grimm’s decaying remains.

A griffon clawed at Jaune’s shield; Jaune held that shield in front of him, letting the claws of the griffon rake across it, while he thrust with his sword out from behind it towards the grimm. The griffon retreated, hopping back and forth in front of Jaune, snapping its beak.

Jaune stepped forward to pursue.

The griffon turned around, its tail with those spikes of bone lashing out along the ground to hit Jaune’s legs hard enough to cut them out from under him. Jaune squawked in alarm as he tumbled onto the floor.

The griffon gave a triumphant-sounding snarl as it rounded on him.

Miló flew through the air from Pyrrha’s hand to bury itself in the griffon’s neck. The grimm started, jerked its head up, its whole body going rigid as it toppled over onto its side, smoke rising from its body.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha began, moving towards him, “are you—?” She was cut off when the grimm attacked her, rearing up onto its strong hind legs before descending on Pyrrha, talons flashing.

Pyrrha took the blow on her own shield, knees bending, her whole posture dropping as the griffon bore down on her with all its strength and all its weight, clawing at the edge of her shield as it tried to rip Akoúo̱ away from her.

Penny saw Pyrrha grit her teeth before she rose up suddenly, legs straightening, throwing her arms up, pushing the griffon back upwards so that it almost fell over onto its back.

It didn’t, quite, but there was a second when it was precariously balanced, claws flailing, before it landed right way — or wrong way from the perspective of killing it — on the ground, snapping its beak at Pyrrha.

It turned and tried to whip its tail towards her. Pyrrha leapt up, letting the spike tail pass underneath — but when she landed, she stepped on the tail, pinning it down before landing a spinning kick on the griffon’s face with her other foot, hard enough to crack its bone mask.

Then she finished the job, cutting its head off with a swing of her shield.

So cool, Penny thought.

Everywhere, the griffons were being taken down. Medea’s semblance of skeletons mobbed one of them, swords rising and falling in their bony hands; Lavinia Andronicus pulled the wing off another before her brother burned it with his flamethrowers; Cardin bludgeoned one to death with his mace; Neptune drove his polearm into a griffon’s chest before unleashing a wave of lighting dust that rippled up and down the grimm’s body.

Weiss cried out in alarm.

To say that Weiss had been annoyed had been an understatement.

Who were they, either of them, to tell her to retreat, to take cover, to hide, to run away? Who were they, indeed, to give commands to her, and such humiliating commands at that? Why, Pyrrha was a person barely connected with her, while Rainbow Dash … okay, she and Rainbow were friends, and so Rainbow was entitled to a degree of meddling in her affairs, but all the same, Weiss was angry enough at present to almost forget that they were friends. Hide indeed, take cover indeed, turn your back on the grimm indeed, arrogant presumption!

The fact that they meant well did not excuse them, nor did it douse the flames of her upset. She was, as she had said to Pyrrha, a huntress, and though she had lost the final match, she nevertheless had a reputation to uphold on behalf of the Schnee name — and let’s face it, the Schnee name could do with being upheld at the moment, what with the way that it had been so much-maligned lately — and her fleeing while Pyrrha stayed and fought, or while Rainbow fought, or while seemingly everybody fought the grimm except her was not going to do the family name much good, was it?

No, no, she would not run. She would not turn her back, she would not retreat one step, no matter the state of her aura.

Such had been her feelings, strong feelings indeed, as the shield fell, as the nevermore descended, as Rainbow having killed the nevermore shot back up into the sky with only a parting imprecation to her to be somewhere else. She was neither coward nor child! She would fight!

But now, as her aura broke, she felt that she had perhaps a little more understanding of their point of view.

Perhaps I rely too heavily on my semblance.

The griffon that had just slashed her last black glyph to ribbons cocked its head to one side, as though it were surprised by the sudden lack of an obstacle between it and its target.

Weiss did not tremble. If this was her moment, then she would not die showing fear. She had stayed and fought to do credit to the Schnee name, and she would continue to do so, even unto death.

Her back was straight, her head was high, and Myrtenaster was still in her hand, the slender blade pointed at the grimm.

And after all, just because she was out of aura didn’t mean that she was out of options.

She had fire dust loaded into Myrtenaster’s cylinder.

Weiss fired, a blast of fire dust leaping from her sword to hit the griffon in the face. The grimm squawked, recoiling.

Weiss moved, darting around the griffon to get around and hit it in the flank, then when it reacted, she would—

She would not move fast enough without her aura or her glyphs. Her movements were too slow, and the griffon’s tail caught her, lashing out to strike her on the knee, the spikes of bone sinking into her unprotected flesh.

Weiss cried out. She shrieked in pain and felt even more pain as she tumbled to the floor, hands scraping on the surface of the arena. Her leg — the griffon had hit her once, but her knee, her leg, was now hitting her over and over and over again, each pulse of pain resounding up and down her body. There were holes in her skin, the griffon had left puncture marks in her leg, her leg that … it was as if the entire rest of her body had gone numb, and all she could feel was her leg and, to a lesser extent, her hands and her thigh where she had fallen.

She could only feel where it hurt. Those parts of her body cried out to her like children crying out for mother; they were all that she could feel.

All she could feel was the pain.

The pain … and maybe a touch of fear.

The griffon stared down at her, its expression inscrutable.

That’s good. I would hate to be killed by something that looked like it was enjoying itself.

The griffon clacked its beak and trilled like a bird.

Weiss tried to push herself to her feet, but she ended up crying out again as her leg gave way beneath her and dumped her back down onto the ground. Was it broken? Was she that fragile without her aura?

But she could still raise her head; she could do that at least.

She would not die looking afraid.

She just wished that her expression wasn’t distorted by the pain.

She really just wished that she had more aura.

The griffon drew its head back. It lunged forward.

A hook, a black hook on a black ribbon, buried itself in the griffon’s neck. The griffon shrieked as it was yanked backwards, talons flailing.

Blake. Blake was holding the other end of the ribbon, pulling against the grimm with both hands. She was standing on a flat, blue diamond, along with Rainbow Dash’s friend Rarity, who had an épée in one hand.

Her other hand, she raised towards Weiss, and another diamond appeared between Weiss and the struggling griffon.

The struggling griffon that was hit in the side by a metal disc flung at great force, then another, then a third. The struggling griffon that was knocked onto its side, mewling and moaning and kicking with its legs.

Sabine Silverband approached it, not sparing so much as a glance for Weiss, her eyes were firmly fixed upon the grimm.

She planted one foot upon its neck and raised the hand on which was strapped the gauntlet that fired her metal discs.

She fired one more, and the grimm was done. It began to turn to ashes before Weiss’ eyes.

Weiss swallowed; she felt that she was in too much pain to feel too much relief, but she felt some relief, at least.

Albeit a little embarrassment, too, to owe her life to Sabine Silverband.

And to Blake and Rarity as well, but she didn’t actually mind that, but Sabine?

Still, she ought to acknowledge it. She needed to acknowledge it, or else … or else, she would be an awfully churlish person, wouldn’t she?

“Tha—” Weiss began.

Sabine held up one finger to her, as though she were shushing a child. She glanced at Weiss, but then looked away again as though she physically could not bear to let her eyes linger too long upon the Schnee heiress.

“Not a word,” Sabine said, calmly enough but firmly too. “Not one word.” She turned away and began to stalk off. “Reynard!” she snapped. “Get over here!”

“Weiss!” Flash cried as he rushed through the griffon that he’d just impaled as it was still dissolving to reach her side. Rho Aias hit the floor with a heavy clatter as he knelt by her side. “Are you—? Sorry, of course you’re not. How bad is it?”

“It hurts,” Weiss winced, through gritted teeth. “Whether that means it’s actually that bad … I’m not a doctor. But I did struggle to stand up just a moment ago.”

“Jaune!” Flash shouted. “Jaune, we need you!” He looked around — for Jaune, presumably — before returning his gaze and all of his attention to her. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t—”

“There to save me?” Weiss finished for him. “As a huntress and your team leader, I don’t—”

Flash’s eyebrows rose sceptically.

Weiss pouted. “Alright, in this specific instance, I did, but as a rule—”

“As a rule, you’d have more aura than that when the fight began,” Blake declared as she and Rarity approached. “Why didn’t you retreat, after that beating you took from Pyrrha?”

If I still had my aura, I would use my semblance on someone, Weiss thought. “Because I have my pride,” she declared in turn.

“Pride,” Blake murmured, and Weiss had the impression that it was only the fact that they were in the middle of a battle that was preventing her from giving Weiss a lecture on what pride was worth in situations like this.

Actually, the battle was coming to an end now, the griffons all slain, but nevertheless, Blake refrained from giving the lecture, for which Weiss was very grateful.

She was not in the mood right now, for obvious reasons.

“Jaune!” Flash called again.

Jaune came, and with him came Pyrrha, and it seemed as though everyone else came too, everybody converging on her to gawk at her in her infirmity.

Or more likely, they just wanted to see what was wrong in case they could help.

But that didn’t mean that Weiss wanted them to see her; she didn’t want them standing around her like this, forming a ring around her, looking down on her.

She was glad to be alive, but this was a little bit humiliating.

Flash shuffled away as Jaune knelt down beside her. Weiss found herself very glad that he no longer showed any interest in her at all; the idea of him holding this over her was absolutely mortifying. Luckily, he had grown out of that by now. He barely even looked at her as he brought his hands over her injured leg.

Considering the way that everyone else was staring at her, as if they were trying to work out what the matter was, Jaune’s focus on her wound was rather relaxing.

His hands began to glow golden, a shimmering light engulfing them and then spreading to Weiss, covering her wound, covering her leg, covering her whole body. It felt gentle, calming. It felt like a shower that was neither too warm nor too cold, but neither deserved the tepid and uninviting name of lukewarm. She could feel a tickling upon her skin, a feeling like—

A sharp and unpleasant feeling as her leg began to knit itself back together, her wounds closing up. Weiss knew that that was her own aura doing that, not Jaune; Jaune was only giving her her own aura back. But she winced nonetheless.

Jaune ignored that, just as he ignored everything else, focussing upon his task and on his semblance. It was working, Weiss could feel that it was working, she could feel her strength coming back, her aura. She shifted her hand a little upon the floor, conjuring a minute black glyph.

Jaune stood up, the light fading from his hands. “All done,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Weiss said as she got to her feet without assistance. “Much better.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose the obvious question is ‘what now?’”

“Rainbow Dash,” Blake said, looking towards the other Atlesian huntress. “We heard from General Ironwood, and you’re right, the evacuation is being held back until the grimm have been defeated.”

“Held back?” cried … one of the Haven students; Weiss believed that he was one of Blake’s boyfriend’s teammates; he had pink hair and a red jacket worn across one arm like a pelisse. “What do you mean 'held back'? Is he just going to leave us here?”

“What’s the alternative?” demanded Rainbow Dash. “You think those griffons are it? Look up!” She pointed upwards, and as though she’d planned it that way, everyone could see an Atlesian airship fly overhead, firing its laser at an unseen target. “The sky outside is full of grimm; you want to take your chances in a Skybus? You want to take everyone’s chances? No, we—” She stopped, looking around.

It took Weiss a moment to notice what Rainbow was looking around at: there were more Haven students here than anyone else; they had come to the aid of their Princess Without a Crown and left the students of all the other academies looking as though they were letting their side down a little.

Rainbow sucked in a deep breath, and shouted, “ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS! EVERYONE WHO'S WILLING TO FIGHT, GET DOWN HERE NOW!” She fell silent for a second. “EXCEPT FOR YOU, CIEL, STAY WHERE YOU ARE.” She lowered her voice. “Blake, where’s Sun?”

“I…” Blake hesitated. “I left him with my mother and the others, to help keep them safe.”

“Right,” Rainbow murmured. “Well, I’m sure he knows to stay up there too. And Applejack.” She frowned. “Rarity, what are you—?”

“I always thought that I’d have made a rather good huntress, if I’d committed the time and energy to it, darling,” Rarity drawled. “I thought that someone might appreciate the assistance.” She smiled in Weiss’ direction.

Weiss wasn’t sure what to do or say in response to that, but felt that courtesy would serve her better than most other things, and so she inclined her head in Rarity’s direction.

There was a moment when nothing happened, and it even seemed that, aside from those already here, nobody was going to answer Rainbow’s call. Then students, some in their battle gear, some — particularly amongst the Atlas students — in their school uniforms, some in casual t-shirts and jeans and jackets, began to emerge out of the tunnels, or else they simply leapt over the sides of the stands and dropped into the arena.

And as they did so, lockers began to rain down out of the sky — gods alone knew what the Atlesian pilots suddenly made of the intrusion into their airspace in the midst of battle like this — falling through the gap in the ceiling to slam down into the arena floor, surrounding the students already gathered.

The lockers popped open, and students scrambled to snatch up their weapons before they joined the throng that was gathering around Weiss.

Or around Rainbow Dash now, seeing as she now stood in the centre of the huddle, while Weiss and Flash had retreated back to at least something like the anonymity of being part of the group.

There were still, as far as Weiss could make out, very few Shade students. But at least there were as many Beacon and Atlas students now relative to the Haven students. Neither academy had any reason to be ashamed of its numbers any longer; there were Team CFVY, the second years, and Team ONYX whom Team WWSR had defeated during Last Shot, and Team GRAY who had been Team SAPR’s opponents in that same event; there was Team FNKI, who looked a little surprised to see Neon Katt, all the surviving members of Team PSTL, and other teams Weiss vaguely recognised from the tournament, or only from when their names had been announced for the tournament.

They all stood, armed and ready, even if — like Weiss — they weren’t entirely sure what they were ready for. What was going on here? Why were the grimm suddenly attacking Amity like this, what had brought it on?

What was going on elsewhere? Was Beacon under attack? All of Vale? What was happening?

Rainbow stood in the middle of it all, turning in place, looking over all the gathered students of all the schools.

“Blake,” she said, “what’s our sitrep?”

“There are still a lot of grimm in the skies around the arena, but so far, that’s the only place they are,” Blake said. “There have been no attacks on Beacon or on the Green Line. This is the only place that interests them.”

“Thank you, Blake,” Rainbow said, speaking loudly so that her voice would carry. “What that means is that we’re not going to be evacuating just yet. Everyone, including us, is safer here than they would be trying to fly down to Beacon; yes, Beacon is safe, and so is Vale, but the sky isn’t — not yet. Our airships, Atlesian airships, will clear the skies — you can see a little of them doing it if you look up — but they aren’t done yet. So we have to stay here, but we also have to make sure that no grimm get on here and—”

“Who put you in charge?” demanded Coco Adel, the leader of Team CFVY. She shuffled forward half a step. “You’re just a first-year; why should we listen to you?”

“Should we follow you instead?” demanded Sabine. “Someone whose team got taken out by one huntress?”

Medea said. “While I might not have phrased the question so bluntly, we have with us a—”

“I have no problem following Rainbow Dash’s lead in this situation,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I have learnt to trust her judgement, and I am prepared to do so again. We would all be advised to do the same.”

Medea bowed her head. “Then we shall.”

“Good for you,” Coco said. “But that doesn’t mean that we all need to fall in line behind Atlas, or behind—”

“Guys, guys, come on,” Yang said, cutting Coco off. “I know that not all of you know Rainbow Dash, and I know that not all of you have the warmest feelings about Atlas right now, but what’s important here isn’t comparing the size of our weapons or who gets to be the leader, it’s about keeping people safe until the air battle is over and everyone can evacuate. So, since Rainbow seems to actually have a plan to do that, then I say we give her a chance and hear her out. Go for it, Rainbow Dash.”

“Thanks, Yang,” Rainbow said. “There are two points of entry the grimm could use: one is right here, the other is the promenade; they could land on the docking platforms and come inside that way, so we need to defend both of them, and we need to keep people away from the docking pads, make sure they know that help isn’t coming until our airships have cleared the skies. So, Team Sapphire, can you hold the arena if any more grimm come through here? I’ll loan you Penny from Team Rosepetal to help you out. And you’ll also have fire support from Ciel up top.”

More team swapping? Weiss thought. I suppose it makes sense, given how much time Penny spends with them.

But with Penny and Ciel both supporting Team SAPR, and Twilight Sparkle nowhere to be seen, that leaves just Rainbow Dash flying the flag for Team RSPT, doesn’t it?

“Team,” Rainbow paused for a moment, “Team Wisteria, Team Funky, Team Auburn, and Team Umber, you’re in reserve with me and Blake and Rarity; we’ll go wherever there is an emergency, like a flying column. Everyone else … there are sixteen docking pads; that’s sixteen entrances onto the arena, eight on the main level, eight on the second level. What we’re going to do is divide them equally between schools; Atlas will take the north quadrant, Beacon the south quadrant, Haven the east, and Shade the west—”

“Are there enough Shade students for that?” asked Neon. “I don’t see many of them around.”

“They are probably waiting to evacuate,” Umber admitted. “But once they learn that there is no evacuation coming, they will fight. We always do, when our backs are against the wall.”

“Good,” Rainbow said. “The lower level entrances are smaller, so fourth-year students can defend them alone, first-, second-, and third-years will be on the upper level.” She paused. “There shouldn’t be too much trouble; our airships will stop most, maybe even all, of the grimm before they can land if they even want to. But if they try, then we’ll be ready, and we’ll be there to keep people calm while they wait.” She folded her arms. “So what do you think? Or shall we take a vote on how to lead us?”

“I have already stated my willingness,” Pyrrha murmured. “I think we can defend this place, with Ciel’s help. And Penny’s,” she added quickly.

“It seems a reasonable plan,” Weiss said. I hope I should be honoured by you putting Team WWSR in your reserve, and this isn’t an attempt to keep me out of the fighting.

“Perhaps rather than everyone saying whether they agree or not, are there any objections?” Blake asked.

“None from us,” Neon said swiftly, before any other Atlas student could respond.

No one else said anything.

Rainbow drew in another breath, and Weiss thought that she saw her swallow.

“Okay then,” she said. “Stay in touch, call on me if you need backup, and good luck. Let’s go!”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: a complete rewrite in this chapter, with a shift in emphasis from evacuating the arena to... not evacuating the arena; I feel like it makes more sense to stay put in the circumstances than risk vulnerable airships trying to fly off with the grimm around. I also wanted to put a little emphasis on Rainbow as a leader and show that, while her plan isn't super fancy, she can come up with a basic, workmanlike scheme to defend the arena.

Twice Bitten (New)

Twice Bitten

“Lady Medea?” Pyrrha said, raising her voice just a little as the huntsmen and huntresses prepared to take their leave, to head out onto the promenade to guard the civilians.

She wanted to be heard, by Team JAMM at least, before they all departed.

She was glad that Rainbow had not selected Team JAMM for her reserve; she supposed that she could have made this request of Arslan, and Arslan probably would have done it, but … she did not know Arslan’s teammates; she knew Jason and Meleager, for all that their youthful acquaintance had not been on the friendliest terms, and she knew Medea too, somewhat. She knew them enough that she felt that she could trust them with her request, but also that they would not find it strange or selfish.

“Lord Jason?” she went on. “May I speak with you a moment?”

The entire of Team JAMM turned to face her. Medea bowed her head. “You may say to us whatever you wish, Lady Pyrrha, though I fear you may need to be brief.”

“The Mistralian Ambassador to Vale, Lord Wong, is up in Box Seven on the highest level,” Pyrrha explained, “along with his lady wife, their daughter Soojin … and my mother. Would you please go up there and make sure that they are well, and that they are kept well until things are settled?”

Pyrrha had found herself thinking at times that Medea often acted more like the leader of Team JAMM than Jason did, and that Jason seemed perfectly content to let her take the lead. On this occasion, however, she glanced upwards at him, as if seeking his guidance or his approval.

Jason, in turn, looked to Meleager, and Meleager looked to Atalanta last of all.

“Why do you look at me as though I might object?” Atalanta demanded. “I have no issue.”

Medea smiled. “Then it appears that we would be honoured to do this small service for you, Lady Pyrrha; you may put your trust in us, wholly and completely.”

“I am glad of it,” Pyrrha murmured. “Thank you, I am sorry to drag you away from the battle—”

“If there is to be a battle,” Jason muttered. “Your Atlesian friend seems to think that we will do nothing more than observe the Atlesian air fleet in another glorious triumph.” His tone conveyed a little bitterness.

Pyrrha attempted to ignore it in her reply. “Nevertheless,” she said, “Rainbow admits that we should take precautions.”

“Of course,” Medea said. “We shall go at once. Come, boys, Atalanta.”

She turned, her robes sweeping around her, and she joined the other huntsmen and huntresses heading for one of the two ways out of the battlefield and into the wider Colosseum. Jason and Meleager each bowed their heads to her before they fell in on either side of Medea, while Atalanta was the last of them to leave, her dark-eyed gaze fixed on Pyrrha for just a moment longer before she, too, turned away and fell in at the back of the four, hem of her long tunic flapping slightly as she caught up with her teammates.

Pyrrha watched them go, she had delayed them so that they were amongst the last to leave, and when they left, the battlefield would be empty, save for herself, Jaune, and Penny. They would be alone amongst the empty lockers that had fallen from the sky and now sat like monuments in a dead city.

The nevermore feathers lay amongst them, sharp and black.

Pyrrha looked to Jaune, and then to Penny. "I hope that didn't seem too selfish of me, to ask that of them."

"Maybe, if it was just your mother, it would have," Penny admitted. "But it's the Mistralian ambassador too, and if something were to happen to them, then that might be bad." She paused. "And anyway, it's still really understandable!" she added quickly, as if she was afraid that she had given offence. "Wanting your mother to be safe … no one can blame you for it."

Pyrrha did not point out that what she had done went a little beyond wanting something.

"They didn't have to do it," Jaune pointed out. "You asked, and they agreed. That was their choice, as much as yours. It's not all on you." He managed a small smile. "And besides, I can't blame you for not wanting to become Lady Nikos just yet; it seems like it could be a lot of work."

"Mmm, you're right," Pyrrha murmured.

Penny frowned. "Why? What does Lady Nikos do?"

"I'll explain some other time, Penny," Pyrrha said. "For now, we should probably…" She looked upwards. She could see the battle raging in the skies overhead, the Atlesian airships duking it out with the grimm — although, as the sky darkened, it was becoming harder to actually see the grimm. Thankfully, it was a full moon, or spotting them with the naked eye would have been nearly impossible, but as it was, looking up, Pyrrha found that it was much easier to spot the Atlesians, with lights on their wings, and to see the tracer rounds from their machine guns, their laser beams, the explosions of their missiles, than it was to see the dark silhouettes of the grimm flitting overhead.

Pyrrha stopped herself from saying what she had been about to say, and instead, she said, "I'm sorry; it's for the team leader to give the instructions."

"Don't stay quiet if you have a good idea," Penny told her. "I don't want to make a mistake because you were worried about offending me. But," — her lasers floated into a ring in front of her, pointing upwards towards the hole in the ceiling — "I think that I'll try and take out any grimm coming through with my lasers, and Ciel will help, but then if any of them get past me, then you — and Jaune — can take care of them."

Pyrrha nodded. "That seems sound."

Jaune looked around, turning in place. "It's a pity that we can't just seal off the corridors," he mused. "I mean, there's nobody here now; the only reason we need to be here is in case griffons try to use the corridors to get out into the promenade."

He had a point; the stands were empty by now, all the tourists who had once thronged them, the vast crowds that had filled up the enormous colosseum and made it ring with cheers and songs, they were all gone now. Empty seats looked down on them, discarded tubs of popcorn and half-consumed cardboard cups were their only audience. Their presence here was necessitated only by the fact that this offered an approach which, if left unguarded, could allow them grimm to take the vast crowds of spectators — the huntsmen outside, and the Atlesian troops, were going to have their work cut out preventing panic amongst so many frightened people; Pyrrha wondered if they would accept the logic in delaying their evacuation the same way the students had — from behind.

Although, Jaune having brought the subject up, it did make Pyrrha wonder if the three of them were enough to prevent that.

"Do you think that Rainbow Dash should have posted another team or two here to help us?" Pyrrha asked. "If the grimm pass through Penny's fire, then … if they land here, on the field, then I can deal with them, with Jaune's help, but what if they land in the stands and try to use one of those corridors?"

"Won't they try and kill us first, since we're here?" asked Jaune.

"For the most part," Pyrrha allowed. "But an older, more experienced grimm—"

"Quite right, Miss Nikos, quite right," Professor Port declared in his great booming voice as he and Doctor Oobleck walked out of one of the corridors into the arena. "Some students forget my lessons in the heat of the moment, but I'm glad to see that our new Vytal Champion is not amongst them."

Pyrrha turned towards them, as did Jaune, and even Penny looked that way whilst keeping her body — and her lasers — stationary.

"Professor Port, Doctor Oobleck," Pyrrha said. "I'm surprised, although I suppose I probably shouldn't be."

"Apologies for the delay, Miss Nikos; it took some time to get down here," Doctor Oobleck said. "You seemed to be having a discussion a little earlier with your fellow students; what's the situation?"

"At the moment, the grimm are only attacking in the air around the Amity Colosseum," Penny explained. "And so, General Ironwood has decided not to evacuate the arena yet, because people would be in more danger in the airships than they would be here."

"So, everyone else is waiting on the docking pads trying to keep order, while you're defending this position?" Doctor Oobleck asked.

"That's right, Doctor," Jaune said.

Doctor Oobleck nodded. "Miss Nikos is correct, that older and more experienced will sometimes avoid huntsmen in order to seek out easier prey elsewhere. But, older grimm are also larger grimm, and might have some trouble fitting through the corridors."

"But," Professor Port added, "Barty and I will head up into the stands to intercept any grimm who do try to avoid you here."

"Thank you, Professor," Pyrrha said. "That is much appreciated."

"Yes, it's very nice of you," Penny added. "I'll try to make sure that not too many of them get down here."

"No need for thanks, Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina," Professor Port assured them. "What kind of huntsmen would we be to let our students shoulder all the burden?" He paused, tugging with one hand upon his grey walrus moustache. "Miss Nikos," he said, "congratulations on your victory hardly seem appropriate under the circumstances, and yet, they are well-earned regardless."

"It's a pity that we couldn't have the traditional award ceremony," Doctor Oobleck went on.

"Yes, well," Pyrrha said softly. "As you say, Professor, it all seems rather irrelevant now."

"All the same," Doctor Oobleck replied, "it is a shame that you have had to go from winning that battle to fighting in this one. Take care, all of you." He and Professor Port departed, their footsteps echoing a while even after they had returned to the corridor from whence they had come; Pyrrha expected at some point, and hopefully soon, to see them in the stands, able to look down upon what remained of Team SAPR, to be their audience if any grimm should come this way.

"He's right," Penny said. "We … we never got to congratulate you, did we?" She beamed. "Congratulations, Pyrrha! You did it!"

Pyrrha laughed. She couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. "That … thank you, Penny."

Jaune put one hand on her shoulder. "I'd ask how it felt," he said, "but—"

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured, "But … we knew that this was a possibility — Cinder told me so — but … Professor Ozpin said that we were keeping people from worrying, that we were giving them something happy to dwell on, that we were giving them some relief from their troubles, but was any of that really true? Does any of it matter now?"

"Maybe the grimm would have attacked sooner without the tournament," Penny suggested.

"I guess the question is whether they deliberately left it to the end of the tournament to attack," Jaune said. "And if they did, then why?"

"Because it's getting dark," Penny suggested.

"It'll get darker," Jaune pointed out. "And if they waited until the celebrations started, then there would be a lot fewer huntsmen and huntresses all in one place to fight back."

"Tell me something, Cindy," Sonata said. "What was your worst birthday?"

Cinder frowned. "What?"

"What … Mistress," Sonata said, smiling like a shark as she said it.

The two of them stood in the Valish Command Headquarters, the hub of the Valish military — her military now, Sonata supposed. Everyone here was dancing to her tune, from General Blackthorn to the lowest … um, what was the name, they all had ranks, what was it, trooper? Fusilier? Guardsman? Private? Actually, she thought it was all of those, and maybe 'grenadier' as well, depending on … something. Something about regiments, she thought? She hadn't been paying that much attention to that part. It didn't really matter to her exactly how they organised themselves.

What did it matter to the butcher how the sheep or the pigs organised their herd? They were chops and sausages all the same.

Mmm, sausages. Sausage taco, ooh…

Sonata's stomach growled.

Sonata giggled. "Say, fellas?" she said. "I don't suppose one of you boys could run down to the kitchen and pick me up something, could you?"

General Blackthorn, who was stood looking over the shoulders of a couple of his soldiers sitting at consoles, snapped his fingers. "Guardsman, jump to it."

One of his men snapped to attention. They were very snappy, these Valish soldiers. Snap, snap, snap. "Yes, sir," he barked, and immediately, he darted out of the door and down the corridor.

The command centre was kind of dark and gloomy, with concrete walls and a floor that looked like it was concrete too. They were actually underground, with a lot of dirt above them, even though the headquarters had so much space above ground that you'd think there was room up there. Apparently, this was safer, in case the Atlesians decided to drop bombs on them or something.

Sonata did not really want to get stuck down here. She didn't want to be buried under a lot of rock and rubble; she didn't want to starve, or suffocate, or never see the sun again. It was … a little scary.

She wasn't supposed to feel fear herself; she was supposed to feed off the fear of others, to devour it and grow stronger from it, the way that she'd fed off the nervousness of all these soldiers down here when they contemplated what came next.

But she was afraid herself of getting stuck down here. It would be worse than being imprisoned by Salem; at least Salem had kept them alive.

If I have to, I'll make them dig a way out for me with their bare hands.

And maybe Cinder can move the rock with her magic?

Sonata pushed those thoughts away. She didn't want to be scared, she didn't want to be worried; this was her moment of triumph, of her victory over not just Vale or the Atlesians or all the rest of Salem's enemies, but over her own sisters too. Adagio and Aria would never have believed that she could accomplish all of this; they thought that she was stupid, that she was useless, that she was forever fated to be at the bottom of the pile while they fought for the highest place. They thought it so strongly that even Sonata had started to believe it; for the longest while, her ambitions had been limited to taking Aria's number two spot, and even that idea had faded, seemed impossible. Well, look at her now! All of Vale was in her hands! An entire city was at her mercy! This room was full of soldiers sitting at consoles, looking at screens, screens that — although Sonata couldn't read them very well — had information about more soldiers, about ships, about fighters, about an army at her command and disposal. All she had to do was tell General Blackthorn something, and he would tell other people to do something, and they would tell another person to do something, and then they would all do it. She was about to unleash fire and horror on a scale that Adagio and Aria couldn't even dream of; now, wasn't that something, huh? Not so stupid anymore!

And Cinder, another who had dismissed her, who had underestimated her, who had thought that she could use Sonata as a weapon for her own end, now look at her! She stood at Sonata's right hand, and around her neck, Sonata had put a collar, a spiked collar with a little padlock on the front, to show that she belonged to someone.

Cinder hated it. Sonata loved that she hated it; Cinder's wrath was the headiest brew she'd tasted in all of Vale, sweetened and seasoned by her Maiden magic, but made rich like fat by the fact that she was just so angry. Angry, and at Sonata's beck and call and absolute command.

Against her will, of course. Sonata could feel her struggling; Sonata could feel Cinder raging inside, desperate to regain control of herself. She would like nothing better than to kill Sonata with her bare hands. But that wasn't going to happen, and the fact that she was struggling made it all the more fun.

Certainly, it was more fun than General Blackthorn, who had kind of rolled over by comparison. He was so eager to fight the Atlesians that he wasn't even trying to fight her. And him a soldier too.

It was a big help to take Sonata's mind off things. "What, Mistress," she repeated. "Call me Mistress, Cindy. You know you want to."

It was clear from the look on Cinder's face, from the way she bared her teeth, from the way that her eyes twitched, from the very fire in her eyes, it was clear that she didn't want to do it. But all the same, the words came out, "M-Mistress."

"There you go!" Sonata cried. "Didn't that feel good?" She patted Cinder on the cheek. "Make sure you remember it from now on. Now, answer the question: what was your worst birthday?" She walked around Cinder, humming softly as she stroked Cinder's arms, her shoulders, her thighs. "Was it when you didn't get the present you wanted? When the cake didn't taste very nice?"

"No … Mistress," Cinder growled. "It was … it was not that." She sounded like the words were being wrenched out of her; they probably were.

Sonata completed her walk around Cinder. "Go on," she urged.

Cinder scowled. "It was … she … Philonoe told me that … that it would cheer me up. A party." She groaned as if she was in pain, her head dropped down, her chin almost touching the spiked collar, her eyes screwed tight shut.

"Cheer you up?" Sonata repeated. She cocked her head to one side, and one hand drifted lazily up to rest her fingertips on Cinder's temple. "Cheer you up from what?"

Cinder whimpered, shaking her head back and forth.

"Cheer you up from what, Cinder?" Sonata demanded.

Cinder's whole body trembled. "My father," she whispered. "My father had—"

"Died," Sonata whispered.

Yes, she knew all about that; she could feel it. Cinder was angry about that too, furious at her father … but sad, all the same, which was a different taste, a kind of … like cream upon the strawberries of her fury. She tried to shut it away, to lock it all behind a door belonging to another girl, another life, but Sonata's song had blasted down that door, and nothing stood between her and all that was locked within.

"My … Ashley's father had died," Cinder said.

"Your father, Cindy," Sonata corrected her. "And so, because you were sad, Philonoe promised you a party to cheer you up?"

Cinder nodded. "A splendid party. Cake, and music, and so many guests. Something to take my mind off all my sorrows."

"And presents?" Sonata asked.

"Lots of presents."

"And balloons?"

Cinder wrinkled her nose. "Mistralian parties don't have balloons."

"Really?" Sonata asked. "What kind of party doesn't have balloons? Weird." She shook her head. "So what happened? What made this your worst birthday ever?"

Cinder breathed in and out. She looked at Sonata. She didn't say anything.

Sonata started to hum.

"There was no party," Cinder said, the words rattling out of her as though they were being rolled down a hill. "It was all a lie, it was all—"

"A trick!" Sonata cried, clapping her hands together. "They let you get your hopes up, didn't they? They let your mouth water with anticipation, they let you float on the air of expectation ever so sky high, and then—" She snapped her fingers. "Broken wings."

Cinder clutched at herself, she grabbed at her shoulders, at her sleeves, she clasped the fabric of her red dress in her hands as though she were making sure that it was still there. "Yes."

"Yes!" Sonata shouted. "Because disappointment is always so much sweeter when it comes after built anticipation, and that, Cinder, is why we waited until after the tournament was over." She grinned. "You wanted to give Pyrrha a chance to win immortal glory because you're just a big old softy on the inside, aren't you? I waited until the tournament was over because I wanted to let everyone watching in the Colosseum and everybody watching on their TV at home get so worked up, I wanted to let so much ecstasy build up, so much excitement, so much passion, and then, when everyone has risen so high—" She clapped her hands together. "BAM! It all comes falling down, and from the heights of triumph, they fall into the pit of despair."

"I see," Cinder murmured. "F-forgive me, Mistress, but I do not think your enemies will succumb to despair so easily as that."

Sonata shrugged. "Maybe they won't, but the ordinary people will! All that sadness, all that fear, that'll get the grimm all nice and frisky." She turned away from Cinder to look at General Blackthorn where he stood monitoring his people. "How's it going, General?"

“It seems that General Ironwood is not reinforcing his air units around the Colosseum,” General Blackthorn said. “But never mind. We can deal with that. Your … friends are ready to move on key infrastructure, and my forces are ready to respond.”

The way that he had said ‘friends’ made Sonata tilt her head to one side. “Is everything okay, Blackie?”

Blackthorn hesitated. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand," he said. "We don't need these grimm cultists; my troops—"

"Are going to do great," Sonata assured him as she put a hand on his shoulder. So there was a teensy weensy bit of fight left in him after all; he didn't like the idea of siccing grimm upon Vale. She hummed a few bars of a soft refrain before she said, "There's a storm coming, General, there's a hard rain about to fall on Vale, and not all of this kingdom will avoid being swept away by it. But what's left will be a better place, a purer place, a stronger place. A place that has been cleaned up of all its problems, and where only the best has withstood the flood. Doesn't that sound great? Doesn't that sound like something you want, like something that you've always wanted? Haven't you looked at this kingdom and wished that you could cut the rot away and throw it into the fire?"

"Of course," Blackthorn said, "who hasn't?"

"Well, now, you get to do it," Sonata told him. "You get to be the man who saved Vale, by sacrificing those parts that were dragging it down." She wrapped her arms around his, and leaned against him. "Speaking of which, what's happening with your soldiers?"

"The Terror and Zhenyuan are moving into position," Blackthorn told her. "And I have loyal men ready to prevent rogue elements from getting in the way."

"Excellent," Sonata declared. "Trust me, this is going to be—" She stopped, looking around the room.

Her eyes narrowed. Something was not right here. Something was off, something was wrong, she could … she could sense something. It was like a bad smell under her nose, something that she couldn't exactly place, but it was there, irritating her, reminding her of its presence. What was it?

Sonata took a couple of light steps away from General Blackthorn, looking around her, sniffing the air. What was it? Where was it?

Who was it?

It was a someone, she was almost certain of it. She could feel them, somewhere.

"What's wrong?" asked General Blackthorn.

"I don't…" Sonata looked to her left. There was a corridor there, the door was open, and the corridor led out and around a corner off into the rest of the headquarters.

"Cinder," Sonata said, "will you be a sweetheart and go check that out for me?" She pointed down the corridor. "I think there might be someone hiding down there, listening."

"At once, Mistress," Cinder said quietly as one of her glass swords — that was a very neat trick — appeared in her hand. The lights down here were kind of dark, but Cinder's glass sword glimmered regardless. She turned her back on Sonata and stalked like a cat down the offending corridor.

She turned the corner and paused.

She didn't do or say anything. She just stood there, as though she were staring at something — or someone.

Sonata's eyes narrowed. "Cinder?"

Cinder looked at her. "There is nothing here, Mistress. Nothing and no one."

For a moment, Sonata considered the possibility that Cinder was lying to her. But no. No, that couldn't be right. That wasn't possible. Cinder was totally under her control.

"Okay, I don't know where that came from then," she muttered. She wheeled back to General Blackthorn. "You know, Councillor Emerald has been squawking at you once already; you might want to send someone over to shut him up before he causes any problems."

"Of course," Blackthorn said. "I'll have him taken care of."

"Maybe," Penny said, "maybe they're attacking the arena first because there are so many huntsmen and huntresses up here, not just the finalists but their teammates and everyone else watching? What if they wanted to kill us all."

"That … makes a gloomy kind of sense," Jaune replied. "Although they might be better off trying to bring the arena down rather than get inside it if that were the case."

"If she could hear us," Penny said, "Ciel would say that the Atlesian fleet won't let that happen, and Rainbow would say that too."

"No doubt," Pyrrha murmured. "What you say makes sense, but…"

Jaune's brow furrowed. "But what?"

"I'm afraid all of this rather proves Cinder's point," Pyrrha said. "That there is another hand now driving Salem's actions here. A hand that does not belong to Cinder Fall."

"You mean Tempest Shadow or Bon Bon?" Jaune replied.

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "I do not see how it can be denied any longer; at least one of them has betrayed us."

"Unless Cinder set all this in motion before she got caught?" Jaune suggested.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha said quietly. "I suppose I wouldn't put it past Cinder to have wished to fly up here on the back of a griffon, land in the middle of the arena, and challenge me to a rematch where the cameras could see, but … she seemed to indicate to Sunset and I that the grimm attack was not her wish or idea."

"She could have been lying to you," Penny pointed.

"Yes," Pyrrha conceded. "Yes, she did tell some lies." Whatever else, Amber is not a traitor. "But—" She stopped, her ears pricking up.

"Pyrrha—" Jaune began.

"Shhh, listen," Pyrrha urged, pointing upwards.

Jaune looked up, as did Pyrrha herself, and Penny too. There was nothing there that they could see, nothing but the battle continuing to rage in the skies above the arena, and presumably all around it too. They could see nothing, but Pyrrha could hear tapping sounds on the roof, tapping like claws on metal.

The grimm were actually on the roof, hidden from Pyrrha and the others, but there all the same.

And judging by the sounds, many taps in quick succession, too many to be the result of a single grimm walking around up there, Pyrrha guessed that there were several of them, be it griffons or nevermores or both.

One might have hoped that the much-vaunted Atlesian airships would clear them off, but either they were too busy, or else they dared not fire for fear of hitting the Amity Arena itself; either way, the tapping did not abate. Rather, all the tapping sounds seemed to converge, closing in upon the centre where the roof opened for them.

Yes, Pyrrha thought. Yes, come down that we may deal with you.

In spite of the fact that they had agreed that Penny would be the first to deal with descending targets, Pyrrha changed Miló into rifle mode.

More tapping sounds, although they seemed stationary, as though the grimm were tapping their claws in place for some reason. They called out to one another, cawing and croaking.

A griffon stuck its head into view.

Penny fired, several green laser beams lancing up from her Floating Array; the griffon was struck, its head disappearing in a flash of green light. When the light of the laser beams died down, nothing more could be seen of the grimm but a gently rising wisp of black ash.

For a moment, the creatures of the grimm were silent. Pyrrha wondered what they meant to do next; perhaps they would be frightened off and fly away.

Judging by the new sound that sprung up, the much shrieking and screaming, the softer trilling and cooing, that was too much to ask. The grimm were remaining where they were. But what did they mean to do? Tear through the roof? It hadn't occurred to Pyrrha until then that they might do so, but there was nothing stopping them. It was not as though the Amity Colosseum was sturdy enough to keep them out if they were truly determined to gain entry.

"Do you think we should call Rainbow Dash?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not yet," Penny said quietly. "If it turns out to be nothing, then they're not somewhere else."

Somewhere they could be of more use, perhaps, Pyrrha thought. "Yes, of course."

She almost wished the grimm would make a move; it would be better to face them, however many there were, to be able to see them in their multitudes, than to be left imagining how many of them there might be and what they might be doing up there.

What they might be plotting up there.

Were they intelligent enough to be plotting? Well, they weren’t standing on that roof for nothing; if they were rasher or more stupid, they would have charged down the hole and faced Team SAPR. Instead … they were doing something else.

She just didn’t know what. None of them knew what.

Pyrrha supposed that she ought to be at least a little glad that while the grimm were up there, they weren’t directly trying to or on the verge of hurting anyone — but they might be devising a plan that would let them hurt people, and that worried Pyrrha.

She wished they would be young and immature and just charge down.

“Get down!”

The voice was faint, almost snatched away from Pyrrha’s ears; it was coming from above them. Pyrrha’s eyes flickered across the boxes, her first thought being that maybe a member of Team JAMM was calling to her from her mother’s box, but when her eyes turned that way, she saw nothing. There was no sign that there was anyone still in the box at all.

“There!” Penny cried. “It’s Ciel!”

Pyrrha twisted on her toes, shifting her stance to face in the direction that Penny was pointing. Yes, there was Ciel; she was a little difficult to make out, none of her features were visible, but her blue beret was distinctive atop her dark face as she leaned out over the edge of her box.

“Get down!” she shouted again.

And then the roof of the arena exploded.

Part of it did, in any case, which was quite enough, whole sections of the awnings that covered the top of the arena vanishing in an immense fireball. The question of how, how on Remnant the grimm had managed to accomplish such a thing was answered as debris emerged from out of the explosion, flung this way and that, across and downwards, debris not only from the ceiling itself but from the Atlesian airship that the grimm must have grabbed, overpowered, and physically slammed into the ceiling.

As the explosion flared above them, flinging debris out and down like comets flying across the sky, Pyrrha leapt away. As she leapt, she flung out hands and semblance alike, grabbing Jaune by his armour and Penny by her … everything, yanking them both off their feet towards her.

They collided in mid-air, Pyrrha's arms wrapped around them both as she bore them on.

"Jaune!" she cried.

Jaune understood without her having to say it: he had his hands on both Pyrrha and Penny, and the golden light of his semblance spread out from his hands to wash over them both, the gentle sunlit warmth of his power warring with the sudden searing heat from the explosion up above.

They hit the ground in a heap, with Jaune and Penny on the floor and Pyrrha above them, clinging to them both. Debris and wreckage flew everywhere, slamming into the ground, slamming into the boxes and the stands, slamming into the summoned lockers and splitting them open, or else causing the rockets that propelled them to explode and shower yet more debris across the battlefield.

Pyrrha tried to project her semblance out behind her, to use it like the reverse pole of a magnet to repel any metal that came towards it — towards her, towards Jaune or Penny.

She didn't feel anything strike her from behind; she didn't see anything strike either of them either. She could feel the heat of the explosion upon her back, and the lesser explosions of the lockers to her sides, but there was no debris slamming into her. The floodlights, the metal rails that supported them sheared clean through by the wreckage, did not fall on any of them, thank goodness.

Pyrrha raised her head. The arena was … it looked like a new biome had been introduced, although Pyrrha could not give it a name. Flaming debris littered the floor, filling the space around those lockers that had survived intact. Gouges had been torn in the metal surface, dents made, the painted symbol of Beacon Academy rendered almost unrecognisable by the tears made in it. Sections of the stands had been turned to ruin, large chunks of metal sticking out where seats had been, flames beginning to spread amongst the padded seat cushions. Of Professor Port or Doctor Oobleck, there was no sign, although that might have been — hopefully was — the smoke obscuring her view.

Several boxes had been destroyed or damaged; Pyrrha could not see if her mother's was among them, but the box from which Ciel had sought to warn them was protected by a purple shield enclosing it like a bubble and warding off all harm.

The roar of a teryx split the air, just as the teryx itself split the smoke from the lingering fires of the explosion. It plunged out of the smoke cloud, head first, wings spread out across the arena, maw opened wide to swallow them all.

Reaching for her semblance once again, Pyrrha grabbed a large chunk of metal from the ceiling and pulled it through the air towards her as quick as she could, lifting it up so that it lodged between the jaws of the descending grimm.

The teryx growled through the obstruction as it continued to drop.

Pyrrha seized Penny and Jaune in the grip of Polarity and threw them forwards, out of the way, before rolling aside herself.

She thought the teryx would slam head-first into the floor, but it pulled up at the very last moment, hitting the metal surface feet-first, leaving dents where it did so, and shook its head backwards and forwards as it tried to dislodge the metal from its gullet.

Pyrrha summoned Miló into her hand and pulled Akoúo̱ from off her back, switching Miló into spear mode as she flowed into a combat stance, knees bent, ready to charge.

“Wait!” Penny cried as she leapt to her feet, the swords of Floating Array emerging once again from behind her. “I’ll hit her with my laser,” she added as all her swords folded into their carbine configuration and formed a very tight circle in front of her chest.

As the teryx continued to try and get the jagged metal fragment out of its mouth, Penny’s lasers began to glow a vivid green as she charged her most powerful mode fire.

A flock of griffons descended from out of the sky and the smoke that drifted from the smouldering ceiling. As they swept down, the flock split up: some headed for the shielded box from which Ciel had cried her warning, slashing at the shield with their claws or pecking at it with their beaks; a few headed towards a different, ruined box; others still dropped into the stands, where Pyrrha thought she heard a snatch of Professor Port's deep, booming voice proclaiming that he yet lived and fought on.

And one griffon, which must have surely been the alpha of the group, pounced upon Pyrrha and the others.

This griffon was not so large as the teryx already confronting them, but it still looked big enough to swallow a man whole, and where the other griffons had black bodies mostly exposed and visible below the neck, this griffon had armour plates of pale bone protecting its neck, chest, and shoulders, and wings of a greater span to bear the extra weight. The spikes on its tail were as long as Miló in sword mode, and more bone was beginning to protrude out of the haunches of its hind legs.

It didn't land, but flew low, talons outstretched as though it meant to grab one of them and scoop them up into the air. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at it as it descended on them, but her shield bounced harmlessly off the griffon's chest armour before flying back onto Pyrrha's arm.

As the griffon bore down on them, they had little choice but to throw themselves to the ground, though doing so interrupted Penny's charging of her laser. As she dropped, and as the griffons passed over them without touching them, Jaune tried to slash at it with Crocea Mors, but the grimm had not descended quite that low. Pyrrha switched Miló from spear into rifle mode and snapped off a shot at the griffon's rear as it began to rise again; she thought she hit it, but the griffon took no visible notice of the injury.

Penny fired too; although she lay still on the ground, she brought her lasers to bear, firing them individually, green beams bursting from her folded swords. She hit the griffon in the side as it turned in the air, and though it hadn't noticed Miló's bullet, the griffon noticed Penny's lasers; a shriek tore from its throat as it angled itself so it was presenting more of its armour in Penny's direction. The laser fire glanced off the bony plates.

The teryx snapped the wreckage that Pyrrha had jammed down its mouth in two and let out a triumphant roar as it spat out the fragments and shook its head and its long sinuous neck back and forth.

The griffon soared over and around and finally landed next to the other, yet larger grimm, fluffing its wings once it had landed on the ground.

Smoke drifted overhead and rose from the airship and locker debris; the flickering flames illuminated the grimm in harsh orange tones, matching the eyes that burned in their skulls. The teryx tapped its foreclaws on the ground; it had only five talons, Pyrrha saw; one of them was missing from its right claw, only a broken stump remaining.

And the griffon, she could see now that it had landed, had a crack running right down the middle of its skull, as though someone had struck it there with great force.

The griffon trilled; the teryx coughed in what could only seem like a reply.

"Can you two hold them off while I charge up?" Penny asked.

"I … I'm not sure," Jaune murmured. His voice strengthened a little as he added, "But we can try!"

He stepped forward, sweeping his sword down towards the ground and then forwards, unleashing the ice dust from the phial set in the pommel; an expanding river of ice spread out along the ground, covering the metal, licking at the bases of the lockers, covering the shards of twisted metal as it raced towards the griffon. The griffon leapt up into the air, its wings spreading out to lift it up as the ice passed beneath it.

As Penny's lasers once more formed the tight circle that was preparatory to her combined beam, the teryx reared its long neck up and then brought it down towards her with open jaws. Pyrrha threw Miló up into the air as she grabbed hold of the nearest large metal that she could lay her semblance on — a tangled mess of metallic struts and shattered floodlights from below the roof — and threw them at the teryx. They slammed into the grimm's head hard enough to snap it sideways, arresting its assault on Penny.

Pyrrha caught Miló easily as she charged forward, spear drawn back for a thrust into the teryx's chest. The teryx roared and reared up onto its hind legs, whipping its long tail around to lash at her torso. Pyrrha ducked, the black tail passing overhead. The teryx lashed at her again, this time sweeping its tail along the floor. This time, Pyrrha jumped over it and brought Miló down to skewer the tail, piercing right through the darkness of the grimm and into the metal of the floor beneath.

The teryx roared and ripped its tail free, yanking Miló out of the ground — though it was still buried in the creature's flesh — and even batting Pyrrha up into the air, though she managed to convert it to a graceful landing on her feet. With Polarity, she summoned Miló back into her outstretched hand and switched to sword mode as she charged the grimm.

The easiest way to kill the teryx — for her, at least, assuming that Penny couldn't get her shot off — was to cut off its head, but the teryx seemed to know that as well as Pyrrha did; that was why it was reared up so high, resisting the temptation to snap at her with its immense jaws, keeping head and neck well out of reach. Instead, as Pyrrha charged, it dropped onto its forelegs, swiped at her with claws as big as she was, then reared again and tried to crush her beneath its bulk. Pyrrha danced around the slashing claws, shuffling back from them, manoeuvring around them, slashing at the teryx's forelegs and what of its chest she could reach.

She wasn't certain how much she was doing to it. Perhaps an aura attack, through the air up to its neck, might be her best bet?

Or she could just wait for Penny.

A squawk from Jaune got her attention; he was locked in combat with the griffon, which had got its claws over the lip of his shield and its beak around the blade of Crocea Mors; it was trying to disarm him of both his weapons, and Jaune was locked in a tug of war over them.

"Pyrrha, I'll switch with you!" Penny called.

Pyrrha didn't need to be told twice; she turned her back on the teryx and rushed for the griffon and for Jaune, legs pounding, sash flying out behind her; she didn't look back, she trusted Penny to keep the teryx occupied and off her — and to keep herself alive in the process.

She reached the griffon, slashing at its side and its thigh to get its attention, sliding underneath to slice into its belly too. The griffon roared in pain and swiped at her with its thickly spiked tail. Pyrrha took the blow upon Akoúo̱, her shield held before her as the force of the impact send her sliding backwards along the ground. She slashed at the griffon's tail too, but the grimm was too swift and got its tail away before Pyrrha could cut it off.

The griffon turned its tail on Jaune next, hammering it repeatedly against his shield. Jaune took the blow, then counterattacked, Crocea Mors slashing downwards. The griffon parried, catching Jaune's sword in one of its long spikes, trapping the sword in the midst of the bony protrusions and, with a flick of its tail, twisting the blade out of his hand and sending it skittering along the ground.

It resumed its assault, hammering on Jaune's shield with the spikes of its tail, pinning him in place as he defended himself, while with its beak, the griffon lunged for Pyrrha.

Pyrrha retreated, switching Miló from sword into spear mode. The griffon's beak closed on the empty air. Pyrrha thrust, aiming straight for the crack in the griffon's skull. Miló extended outwards with a bang, the tip of the spear finding the crack, driving into it — but not far enough. The griffon recoiled at once, wings spreading out as it took to the skies, glaring balefully down at them.

Pyrrha grabbed Crocea Mors with Polarity and guided it back into Jaune's hand.

"Thanks," Jaune said, his eyes fixed on the griffon. "We need to pin it down somehow. If you can get onto its back, then—"

The teryx let out an undulating cry, too soft to be called a roar, a rippling sound emerging in waves from out of its throat. The griffon looked its way, keening acknowledgement.

The teryx ignored the swords of Floating Array which slashed at it, and spread its leathery wings to take flight, pushing its body up off the battered surface and into the air. The griffon followed, falling in behind it, as some members of the flock — fewer than had descended, Pyrrha was sure — joined it. At first, they were pursued by Penny's laser fire, but as the grimm rose higher, into the sky where Atlesian airships did battle with the grimm, Penny ceased fire for fear of hitting an ally.

Nevertheless, unmolested or no, the grimm departed.

"That's right, you devils!" Professor Port whooped triumphantly. "You'd better run!"

Pyrrha was glad that he was alive, but she was not immediately willing to accept that the grimm had simply turned and fled; it hardly seemed in their nature. She kept her eyes turned skywards, waiting for the moment when the teryx or the griffon or both of them would plunge through the smoke and the night sky again to make a second attempt upon their lives.

But they did not. There was no sign of them. They had completely disappeared.

I suppose, if grimm live long enough, they must eventually learn when to retreat.

Penny walked quickly over to them both. "I think they're gone now," she said. "Are you two okay?"

Jaune had a frown etched upon his brow as he said, "Yeah, we're okay. But so were they."

"Crap, this is bad," Rainbow muttered as she emerged out of the tunnel into a mass of humanity.

The promenade was ram-packed. It wasn't meant to hold everyone who could sit in the stands; the arena had been built on the assumption that most people would spend most of their time sitting down, not that everyone would arrive or leave at the same time, and that there would be regular and plentiful transport onto and off the Colosseum to regulate the flow of people and ensure no one was standing around for too long. The promenade was an interim space, somewhere you passed through on your way to the stands, perhaps pausing along the way to buy a coffee or a soda or a tub of overpriced popcorn, not somewhere that could hold the entire seating capacity of the Amity Arena.

But now, all those assumptions had been blown up. The appearance of the grimm had sent everyone running for the exits, leaping from their seats all at once and getting out of the stands as fast as they could, only there were no skybuses to take them away. The interim space had become a giant waiting area for an increasing throng of people as more and more frightened spectators, their days ruined, all the enjoyment robbed from them, piled out of the stands only to find that there was nowhere to go forward, but plenty of people behind.

The crowds were packed together like beans in a tin, barely able to move; even the Atlesian soldiers, standing like islands in the sea of civilians, were held fast by the press, unable to do anything except stand there and get yelled at by people demanding to know what was going on, where the airships were, were they safe. There were yellow lines meant to mark the farthest point at which it was safe to stand on the docking pads, back from the edge, but from what Rainbow could see — which wasn't too much, because she was unable to move forward because of the crowd and had to rely on her height to see over them — the mass of people had surged past that line and reached the edges of the docking pads themselves, in the spite of the grimm that could still be seen in the darkening sky, wheeling and diving through the air in their battle with the Atlesians for air supremacy.

Never mind the risk of a nevermore or a griffon suddenly making a run for Amity and its crowds, it was a miracle that nobody had fallen off the ledge to their death yet — assuming that nobody had; for all Rainbow knew, that had already happened.

Discarded balloons, released by owners who suddenly had more important things to worry about, floated above the heads of the crowd, touching the ceiling. Some of them bore the smiling faces of Vytal contestants, and those smiles seemed to mock the desperate people down below. Little children in their costumes, dressed as Pyrrha or Weiss or Yang, cried; even if they didn't understand what was happening, kids were affected by negative emotion even more surely than the grimm.

This was very bad. If this kept up, then there would be a fall off the edge, or someone would be crushed to death or trampled, or all three would happen. This was bad.

Who put me in charge? No one, but there doesn't seem to be anyone else giving orders right now, so…

"Team Sun!" Rainbow yelled, raising her voice to be heard amongst the hubbub of the crowds in front of her. "Team Sun, can you hear me?!"

"Yeah," came the reply. Rainbow couldn't see Sun's pal Neptune, but she was fairly sure that that was his hand raised up in the air, and his voice speaking. "We're here, Rainbow Dash."

"I need you to start opening some maintenance doors — break them down if you have to — we need to create some valves to relieve the pressure. Start here, then use the inner corridors to work your way along and open the other doors from the inside."

She wasn't too sure of Team SSSN's abilities — especially without their team leader — but she knew that one of its members was a fairly big guy, so getting doors open should be pretty simple for them.

"Sabre," she twisted in place, turning her neck to look for Team SABR. "Once the crowd isn't as thick and you can move, make your way to the seating area and set up a first aid station." She knew that Bella Roseye had taken the Intermediate Aid course, and there were some first aid kits on the walls of the promenade if anyone could get to them. "It's the one place you shouldn't allow spillover from the rest of the crowd."

"Understood!" Sabine shouted back.

With that, Rainbow turned her attention back to the crowd in front of her and wished that she had a bullhorn to make herself heard over them. She didn't — but she might have something better. She got out her scroll, and held it up close to her face — much closer than she would have held her scroll normally — as she called Twilight.

"Rainbow Dash?" Twilight asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Rainbow shouted into the scroll, "but there are a lot of people with me. Can you patch me into the Amity intercom?"

"What? I can't hear you."

Rainbow held the scroll up closer to her mouth, so that spittle hit the screen of her device as she yelled, "CAN YOU PATCH ME THROUGH TO THE AMITY INTERCOM?"

"THE INTERCOM?"

"THE INTERCOM, THAT'S RIGHT, I NEED PEOPLE TO HEAR ME!"

"I'LL HAVE MIDNIGHT TAKE CARE OF IT," Twilight responded. "HANG ON."

Rainbow kept her scroll in one hand as she turned and addressed the huntsmen and huntresses around her. "Wait here," she told them. "Don't try and push forward, you'll make things worse; I'm going to talk to everyone."

"Where are you going?" asked Yang.

"Well, if Blake will give me a bit of a boost," Rainbow said, half-turning towards Blake.

Blake made a cradle with her hands, a cradle into which Rainbow placed her foot. Rainbow stepped off the ground, and Blake lifted Rainbow up above the heads of her fellow students. Rainbow had to duck her head to keep it from hitting the ceiling, but raised up as she was, she had enough room to pop the Wings of Harmony open once again, and by bending her back so that her body was horizontal, she could fire the jets on the slowest and most gentle setting without hurting anyone down below.

She flew parallel with the ceiling just beneath it, occasionally scraping along it, pushing balloons out of her way as she passed over the crowd which mostly didn't notice her, until she was over their heads and almost past the docking pads.

Without the crowd in the way, she could see a little more of the battle raging in the air, although the airships were going so fast that that 'more' still wasn't a whole lot. She was confident that the Atlesians were winning, she could see more grimm dying to laser fire or missiles, or eviscerated by cannons, than she could see grimm taking out airships, but she couldn't say when the battle would be over.

But she could see a Valish warship, not one of the Mistralian ones, one of their destroyers that looked like two pyramids with the bases shoved together, approaching Amity Colosseum, accompanied by Valish airships swarming around it.

If they had come to help, then maybe General Ironwood could find something useful for them to do.

Otherwise…

Rainbow turned around. Whatever the Valish did or didn't do, the General would handle it; it didn't change what she had to do right now. She couldn't hover around gawking all night.

Midnight's voice emerged out of Rainbow's scroll. "You're patched through to the intercom, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow didn't reply, because anything that she said in reply would now be broadcast through the intercom, and she wanted to start off right. So she landed at the edge of one of the docking pads — luckily, people were not actually pressed right up to the very edge as Rainbow had feared, just uncomfortably close to it, close enough that they could look out and down in the vain hopes of catching a skybus — and held her scroll up towards her mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a picture appearing on the screens on the walls: a picture of her chin and face seen from below. Midnight must have turned the camera on and patched that through as well.

Rainbow changed the direction of the scroll so that it showed her face from a more straightforward angle, while trying to keep it out of the way of the people standing right in front of her.

"Attention, everybody, listen up!" she shouted, her voice making the tannoys squeak a little as her words emerged out of all the speakers on the promenade. She rose above the murmuring, the muttering, the angry or the panicked shouting of the crowd, cutting across anything that they were saying. She could just about see some people looking at the screens; others were just listening. Either would do. She went on, "My name is Rainbow Dash, and if you've been paying attention, you'll know that I'm an Atlas student—"

"What's going on?" someone demanded from the front of the crowd. "Where are all these grimm coming from? Where are the skybuses?"

"Why are we being left stranded here?"

"Let us off! We need to get to Vale!"

"Calm down!" Rainbow yelled. "I know you're frightened, but acting like this isn't going to help anybody!" She took a deep breath. "Please stay calm. I know that this isn't what you expected, this isn't the fun day out that you signed up for, but if you'll just listen to me, I promise that everything is going to be okay."

"Why should we listen to you? You're an Atlesian! How do we know that you're not behind all this?"

"Yeah, you've been trying to take over Vale all year!"

"What a load of garbage; can't you see they're trying to help? Everyone knows that it's the faunus who are behind all this!"

"It's not the faunus, and it's not Atlas either!" Rainbow bellowed. "Atlas is out there in the skies fighting for all of you, can't you see that? Stop paying attention to anonymous whispers and start paying attention to your own eyes!" She took a deep breath. "Amity Colosseum is under attack by the grimm, but Atlesian pilots and Atlesian cruisers are fighting bravely to ensure that those grimm out there stay out there and don't get in here. The news that you'll be glad to hear is that there are no grimm in Beacon and no grimm in Vale; nowhere is under attack but here. The bad news is that, unfortunately, because the grimm are out there, we can't evacuate you down to Beacon, because it's too dangerous—" Rainbow was cut off by a resurgent clamour from the crowd in front of her.

"That's ridiculous!"

"We should be able to take the risk if we want to!"

"Why can't your pilots take us off?"

"Because if you just let me finish, you're safer in here," Rainbow said.

"Safe? With those monsters around?"

"Yes, safe, safer than in an airship," Rainbow insisted. "Look, I'm sorry that you're in this position, I really am. I … I have friends who came here to watch me fight. Some of them are just kids. I don't like the fact that they're in this position, just like you don't like the fact that you're in this position; nobody likes this. I can't wait for the battle to be won, and it will be won, so that the skybuses can turn up and take you all away. But until that happens, you are safer here. I promise you that Atlas will not only win this battle but keep the grimm away from the arena, and I promise that my fellow students, all the students that you've watched fight over these last three days, everyone who has entertained you — I mean, you've seen what we're made of, right? You've seen what we're capable of? Well, we're still here for you. Pyrrha and Jaune and Penny are back there in the arena making sure that no grimm come up behind you—"

The world was rocked — thankfully not literally — by an explosion from somewhere up above, which echoed down the arena to the promenade.

"What was that?" someone screamed.

Rainbow didn't answer. Her voice was caught in her throat. The explosion had come from up above, up was where the boxes were, where Twilight and Cadance and Scootaloo and Pinkie and Fluttershy and Applejack and all the rest were.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

"I … I don't know," she admitted. "But I do know that whatever it is is up there, and you are down here, and you will be kept safe. By our airships and by my fellow huntsmen and huntresses, but you need to move back and let us protect you. Use the bathrooms; we're opening up the internal maintenance corridors, use those; use all available space — except for the seating area which we're going to set up for first aid; only go there if you're injured." She paused, wishing that she'd gotten Pyrrha to do this instead of her. "I know that for a lot of you, the first time you ever heard of me was a couple of days ago," she said. "I know that you don't have any real reason to believe me, but if you could turn around and look back, you'd see that behind me there's Yang Xiao Long and Arslan Altan, Weiss Schnee, Umber Gorgoneion, Neon Katt, Sabine Silverband, and like I told you, Pyrrha Nikos is holding the rear. All your heroes are right here for you. You know we can do it; you know we can. So please, put your faith in us!" She smiled, or tried to. "And please just be patient; it'll all turn out fine."

There was a moment of not quite silence, but it was at least quieter than what had gone before, but quieter didn't necessarily mean better, and Rainbow was afraid that they weren't going to pay any notice of her.

Then she heard Neptune shout, "The door's open; into this corridor, everyone!"

And then, slowly at first, a gradual trickle like a tap that had been mostly but not fully turned off, the crowd began to move backwards; the sea of people on the promenade began to recede. There were still a lot of people, and the movement was mostly coming from directly in front of Rainbow Dash, but then, Team SSSN must have opened another door because the crowd began to retreat to the left of her as well.

Not everyone moved back. Some people stayed stubbornly where they were, probably hoping to be the first one aboard the skybus when it finally showed up, but for the most part, people did as Rainbow had asked of them and began to retreat into the internal recesses of Amity Arena.

"Thank you," Rainbow said. "Thank you all, I promise that we will keep you updated and let you know the moment you can go home. You won't be forgotten." And then she hung up, because she didn't want everything she said to be broadcast over the intercom.

Especially when she called Twilight again.

Thank the gods, Twilight answered right away. "How's it going down there?"

"How's it— are you okay?" Rainbow demanded, conscious of Blake and Rarity approaching on either side of her. "We heard an explosion."

"Yeah, the grimm … I think they threw an airship at the ceiling," Twilight said. "I'm not sure if the pilot got out."

"An airship?" Rainbow repeated. "So that … what happened?"

"Ciel saw it coming with her semblance," Twilight said. "Shining Armor had time to throw a shield around our box, and Ciel warned Penny, Pyrrha, and Jaune. We're all okay."

"Thank Ciel for me," Rainbow said.

"You are quite welcome, of course," Ciel said.

"Ciel," Rainbow said. "Have the grimm followed up at all?"

"They attacked," Ciel explained. "A teryx and several griffons. However, after taking losses, they retreated."

"'Retreated'?" Rainbow said. That was not unheard of, but it wasn't common either. "Retreated where?"

"Out of sight," Ciel replied. "Beyond that, I do not know."

"Then I hope the airships get them," Rainbow muttered. "And no one has been hurt?"

"Would you like to hear from everyone?" Ciel asked, with a touch of asperity creeping into her voice.

"No, no time, I'll take your word for it," Rainbow said. She looked at Rarity on her right and at Blake on her left. "We'll all take your word for it. But maybe get everyone out of the box; they'll be safer down here with us."

"What about the numbers down on the promenade?" inquired Ciel.

"We're thinning the crowd out by opening up interior space," Rainbow explained, looking around her to confirm that crowd was thinning out all over the place now, allowing the huntsmen and huntresses — and the Atlesian troops — to take up positions to defend the docking pads, if any more grimm got past the Atlesian airships. "It's safer down here than up there."

"Okay, Dash," Shining Armor interjected. "I'll lead them down with Applejack and Sun."

"And I will remain here to assist Penny and the others," Ciel added.

"Right," Rainbow said. "Good luck." She hung up, and put her scroll away.

"That's a relief, darling," Rarity declared.

"A big one," Blake agreed. "So what now?"

Rainbow looked out at the sky; it was getting darker, the grimm were becoming harder to see; for that matter, the Atlesian airships were becoming harder to see as well, not least because they were going so fast. She could still see the cruisers pretty clearly, though — and the Valish destroyer moving in at a pace that could politely be described as 'stately' or, as Applejack might say, 'slower than molasses in winter.' What it would do once it finally got here … that was for General Ironwood to worry about.

To Blake, she said, "The grimm have tried to come in through the middle twice, and twice been burned, so they'll probably try and get in this way next. But they'll be exposed to our airships out here, trying to get in, moreso than they would be diving in from above, so I don't rate their chances. So long as everyone keeps their eyes open, fingers on triggers, we should be able to keep everyone safe until the battle is over."

She turned back, to where the rest of her flying reserve — Teams WWSR, ABRN, UMBR, and FNKI — were waiting for her. As she did so, Yang, Ren, and Nora took up positions on the docking pad, not right at the edge, but just ahead of the yellow line, where they could intercept anything trying to land or crawl through the arch into the arena before it could do any damage.

There were still a few people standing too close to the docking pad as though a skybus was going to show up any second, but Rainbow thought that they would move quickly if a grimm showed up.

With good luck, none would.

With less good luck … they would have work to do.

They still had work to do, as the battle in the skies around them continued and the Valish destroyer crawled inexorably through the skies.

Author's Note

More good stuff for Rainbow Dash in this chapter, I think, at least that was my intention.

A while back, around Mountain Glenn, somebody complained that the grimm always died in the big grimm fights, so this is the start of an experiment with recurring grimm who live to fight another day - and have distinguishing features so you can spot them when they turn up again. This scene also fortuitously does double duty in showing that Team SAPR are just not quite as effective without Sunset.

The Valish Treachery (New)

The Valish Treachery

The sound of a shot drew Yang's attention.

She turned, feet twisting on the metal of the docking pad, looking to her left, the direction from which the shot had come. Team YRBN — or Team YRN, or YR_N, or however you wanted to write out the name of a team that was to all intents and purposes down to just three members — was on the flank of the Beacon position, with other Beacon teams holding the docking pads that curved around to their right on the southern face of the arena, while to their right were the Haven teams running up the east side.

To Team YRN's right was Team BALL, and it was Team BALL that Yang could see when she turned, locked in combat with a griffon that had broken away from the battle and managed to set claws and feet upon the docking pad.

Yang's own feet, and her hands too, itched to get over there and help them out, even though she knew that she shouldn't. Helping out was what Rainbow Dash and her reserve was for; if Team BALL felt like they couldn't handle it, then they could call for backup, or if Yang felt that they couldn't handle it, then she could call for backup on their behalf — they had all been patched into the Amity Arena intercom, which meant that everyone could hear them, even the spectators, but on the other hand, it meant they didn't have to waste time calling one another up — but what she couldn't do, or at least what she wasn't supposed to do, was leave her own position to rush off to someone else who she thought might need the support.

If she did that, there was no telling what might land on her docking pad unopposed.

Yang knew all that, but she still kind of wanted to go and do it anyway.

But, honestly, it didn't look as though Team BALL needed the help; as Yang took a step back to see how it was going from just inside the promenade, they seemed to have things pretty well in hand. Lucius Andronicus was standing in front of the griffon, using his little flamethrowers to keep it at bay with jets of fire; meanwhile, Lavinia had gotten up onto the griffon's back and was unloading her gun into the nape of its neck, as well as dealing repeated strikes with both arms.

It brought a smile to Yang's face; it was a gutsy move — the griffon might try and take off with Lavinia still on its back — but one that would get her the kill if everything went well.

And the threat of the griffon taking off might be why one of her other teammates — Yang couldn't put a name to him; she thought that she remembered the names of Lavinia's other teammates, but she couldn't tell which of them was which — had grabbed hold of its tail. That, or he didn't want the griffon using said tail to whack Lavinia from behind.

Or it might be both.

The final member of the team was attacking the griffon from the side, hacking away at it with a scimitar so extravagantly curved it was close to curling back on itself. The griffon turned on him, but it was too late; it barely had time to do anything before it collapsed, dead, smoke rising from the body.

Lavinia hopped off the smoking remains before they disappeared, curtsying graciously as she accepted the congratulations of her teammates, signing to them that they deserved some of the praise for themselves for their efforts, patting her brother on the arm. Then she spotted Yang, looking at her from across the Promenade.

She waved with one hand.

Yang waved back, then signed, You okay over there?

Lavinia gestured around her, as if to ask if it didn't look like she was okay, before signing back, We're managing. You?

We're fine; it's all quiet, Yang signed. Maybe we'll get some fun of our own soon.

Lavinia offered her a thumbs up, which Yang returned, before she returned her attention outwards, to the skies where the grimm battled the Atlesians.

Night fell early in the autumn, or at least the darkness did; it would get dark earlier than this, for sure — there were still a couple of months left before the longest night of the year — but Yang missed the long days of high summer when you could have seen a lot better at this time; as it was, they were reliant on moonlight. The moon was full, even the broken fragments were visible, but even so, Yang would have preferred the sunlight.

Apart from anything else, it would have felt better. There was something about the daylight that made fighting the grimm better than doing so in the dark.

"Someone's made a new friend," Nora observed.

"Isn't that the point?" Yang replied. "Isn't that why all these students came down here from Haven and Atlas? Besides, she fought a pretty good fight, didn't she? I think you'd like her too if you got to know her."

"I'm sure I would," Nora agreed. "If I could understand her the way you do."

"Oh, yeah, right," Yang muttered. "That … you don't read sign language, do you?"

Nora shook her head. "Ren does, don't you, Ren?"

A little, Ren signed.

Nora rolled her eyes. "Showoff," she said. "Just because you can do everything doesn't mean that you always have to."

"I've never claimed to be able to do everything," Ren declared. "I've always been disappointed that I can't compose poetry."

Yang blinked and said nothing, unsure if he was joking.

Judging by the stillness of Ren's own face, the failure of even a hint of a smile, it didn't seem as though he was. Yang guessed she shouldn't have been surprised; Ren was very rarely joking.

"And besides," he went on, "as far as sign goes, I could only get by in an emergency; I'm not sure that my knowledge is equal to a conversation."

"At least you know some of it," Yang said. "Most people don't bother to—" She stopped, realising that this could be taken as a rebuke to Nora. "Sorry, I didn't mean to— you didn't go to combat school, so it's easy to see why you never picked any of it up; I didn't mean anything by it." She looked back to Ren. "Though that does make it very impressive that you managed to learn any."

"Like I said, Ren can do everything," said Nora. She glanced at him, and the smile faltered on her face a little bit. "Almost everything."

The little girl was crying.

She was dressed as Pyrrha, albeit with shoulder straps holding up her top, and she was kneeling down on the floor of the promenade, sobbing gently. There was no sign of anyone with her.

Arslan jogged towards them, her footfalls soft on the metal floor, and knelt down in front of her.

"Hey," she said. "Hello there, Miss. Are you okay?"

The little girl looked up at Arslan through the bangs of her Pyrrha wig; she sniffed but said nothing.

"There's no need to be shy," Arslan told her. "The Golden Lion only bites bad people and monsters."

The girl sniffed again. "Mom says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Yeah, but you know who I am, don't you?" Arslan asked. "I'm Arslan Altan; I'm not a stranger at all, so you can talk to me." She paused. "So, your Mom, huh? Is she around here somewhere?"

"One minute she was holding my hand, and then we were trying to get out, and then I let go and then there were so many people and I couldn't see and I'm scared I'm really scared, I—" she sobbed.

"It's okay," Arslan assured her. "It's okay. Let me help you." She leaned forward and breathed on the little girl's forehead. Rainbow, watching, wasn't sure exactly what was supposed to achieve, except that it seemed to do something because the little girl stopped sobbing almost at once, her eyes widening as she looked up at Arslan.

"Do you feel better now?" Arslan asked.

The little girl nodded.

"Of course you do," Arslan told her. "You're a lioness, and a Mistralian too." She smiled. "You don't need to be afraid. What's your name?"

"Chryssy. Chryssy Ceres."

"Nice to meet you, Chryssy Ceres," Arslan said. "And where are you from?"

"Eleusis."

"Eleusis?" Arslan repeated. "Wow, that's a great place, that is. I love Eleusis. I think the Eleusinioi is my favourite event of the whole tournament calendar, after the great tournament in Mistral itself." She leaned forward. "Between you and me, even though I'm supposed to be retired, I might keep competing in the Eleusinioi because it's just such a nice place to visit."

Chryssy gasped. "Really?"

Arslan nodded. "Upon my honour as a warrior. All the temples and the choirs and the dancers, I love how you can just walk down the street, and there'll be like a dozen people performing something or other, and performing really well too, and organised. It doesn't really happen anywhere else. Not even Mistral is quite like it." She paused. "Now, what do you say you come with me and my friends, and we'll see if we can't find your Mom; how does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Okay, come on," Arslan said, scooping Chryssy up in her arms and carrying her back to where her teammates and the rest of the reserve waited.

She was not the first lost child that they had come across. Rainbow wasn't sure how so many parents could be so careless with their kids, but she supposed that it had been a pretty tense situation and a pretty dense crowd.

It was still kind of a thick crowd in some places, although the promenade had been freed up considerably by the opening up of the interior of the arena; most of the spectators who had once crowded the promenade, crushing one another while they waited for an airship, had retreated into the maintenance corridors, and those that were still on the promenade tended to be clustering by the doors to those same corridors.

Despite the fact that you could hear the sounds of the battle going on in the skies between the Atlesian forces and the grimm, despite the fact that you could occasionally hear the sounds of fighting coming from the arena itself — albeit only briefly at a time, and nobody had needed to call for help yet — there were promising signs that people were calming down after their initial panic at the grimm attack. It wasn't business as usual by any means — nobody was manning the popcorn or the hotdog stands trying to make sales — but Rainbow had seen people making their way, a little furtively as if they were ashamed of themselves, towards the vending machines. It was a little weird, kind of a good thing, and at the same time pretty obvious. After all, who could say exactly how long they would be stuck up here before the General's airships cleared the skies? People were bound to get hungry or thirsty.

Rainbow wondered if she ought to ask Pinkie to start-up the hotdog stand or the toastie maker at the coffee place and start distributing stuff for free; people might appreciate something a bit more substantial than a chocolate bar or a packet of crisps — especially since crisp packets seemed to have more air than crisps in them these days.

Maybe later. Hopefully, this lockdown wouldn't last that long.

Arslan led the way, with the rest of the group following her around the circumference of the promenade to the information desk, a gently curving white counter where a monitor on the wall still displayed the timetable for that day's all-concluded matches. The employees who had manned the counter during the day had fled, taking themselves off down into the corridors with everyone else, and so now, Twilight and Fluttershy sat behind the pristine white surface, while Applejack leaned against the desk and Maud Pie stood at ease nearby, her hands clasped behind her back, her expression as rigid as if she'd been on parade.

Chryssy Ceres was not the first child that they'd found who'd gotten separated from her parents or guardians or whatever, and there were still half a dozen other children who hadn't yet been reunited with theirs. Pinkie was taking care of them, with a little help from Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo, all not far from the information desk where they could be kept an eye on without disturbing Twi and Fluttershy.

"We've got another one," Arslan said, plonking Chryssy down on top of the desk. "Got separated from her mom."

Twilight sighed. "You poor thing. What's your name?"

"Chryssy Ceres," Chryssy said, sounding more confident than she had done before.

Twilight nodded. "And do you know what your mother's name is?"

Chryssy shook her head.

Twilight smiled. "Okay, well, never mind." She leaned forward, and spoke into a microphone on the second level of the desk, below the counter that was visible from the outside. Her voice emerged out of the speakers mounted all around the arena. "Can the mother of Chryssy Ceres please come to the information desk? That's the mother of Chryssy Ceres, we have your daughter waiting for you." She kept smiling as she said, "I'm sure your mom will get here very soon, but until she does, you can wait over there with my friend Pinkie Pie."

"Hey there!" Pinkie cried as Arslan picked Chryssy up again, lifting her off the desk and putting her down on the ground with the other children. "My name's Pinkie Pie; it's nice to meet you! And your name is Chryssy, right? So tell me something, Chryssy, do you like balloon animals?"

Chryssy nodded eagerly.

"Alrighty then!" Pinkie cried as she pulled a fully inflated pink balloon out of her hair and instantly began twisting and folding it in her hands, the balloon squeaking as she moulded it into the shape of a prancing horse, forelegs up in the air.

"It's a pony!" Pinkie declared as Chryssy clapped her hands in delight.

Arslan looked at Twilight, and then looked back at Rainbow and the others. "How—?" she said, pointing at Pinkie. "How … where did she—?"

"Don't ask, sugarcube," Applejack said.

"In the nicest way, the answer is usually 'don't ask' when it comes to Pinkie," Flash added.

"You know her?" asked Cardin.

"Yeah, we went to combat school together," Flash explained. "I went to Canterlot with all of these girls."

"And you're still single?" Russel exclaimed. "Wow, I had no idea you were such a loser."

Flash was the bigger man in more ways than just his height and didn't deign to reply.

Rainbow approached the desk. "How's it going?" she asked.

"We—" Fluttershy began, and then hesitated for a second. Her voice was very quiet, even by her standards. "People aren't coming to get their children as quickly as we thought."

Rainbow winced. "Well, we've cleared people off the promenade, but probably the interiors are pretty crowded now; maybe it's taking them a while to get up here. But apart from that, any issues?"

"There are still a few people who seem to think we know when the skybuses are going to show up," Twilight said, with a wry smile. "But other than that, no, it's okay so far. And Pinkie and the girls are doing a great job."

"Come on, everyone," Apple Bloom cried. "Let Sweetie Belle know how much we all want to hear her sing! Sweetie Belle! Sweetie Belle!"

"This is bullying," Sweetie Belle groaned.

"Not at all, darling," Rarity declared with amusement. "It's simply a little push to get you out of your shell."

Rainbow grinned. "We'll leave you to it, since you're doing so well," she said, and led the others away, continuing around the promenade to see what was going on around the whole circumference of the Amity Arena.

Umber Gorgoneion yawned. "I don't know about anyone else, but I thought that being trapped in an isolated location under siege by the grimm would be a little more exciting."

"'Exciting'?" Blake repeated. "Would you rather the grimm were attacking us instead of fighting the Atlesian fleet?"

"It would certainly raise the drama of the situation, wouldn't it?" asked Umber.

"And put people's lives at risk!" Blake stated hotly.

"True, true," Umber murmured. "But helping lost children isn't what I go to school for."

"Personally, I prefer a fight with less at stake," said one of Umber's teammates, a mouse faunus about the same height as Weiss, with a long tail dragging along the ground after him. On his head, he wore a loose-fitting cap with a peacock feather in it.

Umber shifted uncomfortably. "Well … you may have a point, Reap; I will concede it."

"Boring is good," Rainbow said. "Boring is great. So long as it's boring in here, it means that the fleet is destroying the grimm out there, and that is very, very good."

Let's just hope it stays that way.

"It seems," Blackthorn huffed, "that General Ironwood has still not committed any additional forces to the defence of the Amity Arena."

"Ah, well, never mind," Sonata said. "They'll all get a fight, one way or another. Now," — she stretched out her arms and cracked her knuckles — "is everyone ready?"

Blackthorn smiled. "Our ships are still moving into position, but your friends are ready and waiting, and it would be best if they were to start the fight first."

"Yeah, yeah, it would," Sonata agreed. "It would look kind of weird to people if you started a fight before the excuse for you starting a fight … started." She laughed. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

She bounced up and down on the tips of her toes. This was it! This was it! This was always her favourite part, when you just set everybody running wild and brought down a kingdom in a seething mass of anger and hatred.

Oh, if only my sisters could be here to see this.

She didn't miss their condescension, or their smug sense of superiority, but now that the moment had arrived, now that she was about to achieve — on her own! — the destruction that delighted them … she was a little disappointed that they weren't around to witness it.

If they could see me now…

"Isn't this exciting, Cinder?" she asked. "We're going to have the Best. Night. Ever!"

"Yes, Mistress," Cinder whispered. "It's wonderful."

"Aww, you're not worried about your friends, are you?" Sonata asked, turning towards her. "I tell you what, if you're a very good girl, I'll let you kill them yourself; how does that sound?"

Cinder's smile didn't reach her eyes, but she wouldn't have been smiling if she hadn't been angry enough that a part of her — and not a teensy tiny part, either; a fairly big part of her — hadn't wanted just that.

"That's right," Sonata murmured. "That's right. You might feel guilty about it, you might even feel conflicted, but inside, you hate them, don't you? Sunset, Pyrrha, you hate all of them."

Cinder closed her eyes. Her voice was hoarse. "Yes, Mistress."

"And why shouldn't you?" Sonata asked, a musical lilt in her voice as she just gave Cinder a little bit of reinforcement in that regard. "They defeated you. They abandoned you. They left you to die." She smiled. "They left you to me. So why shouldn't you pay them back for everything they've done to you? Why shouldn't they pay for all their faults?" She giggled as she turned away from Cinder. "Okay, General, let's kick this party up a notch!"

It was an armoured truck, the kind used to transport money cards between banks.

This truck didn't look like it was transporting money; it was painted a monotone matte black, without the logo of a security company on the side like you'd expect to find. The windows were tinted black too, so that Martinez couldn't see a security guard in a helmet inside — or anyone else, for that matter. The driver, and any passenger he might have, was as hidden from her as the contents of the vehicle. All she could see was an armoured truck, the bulky armour plating visible on the bodywork, with its headlights set to maximum so that they glared into her eyes and made her raise her hand to shield them, as it came flying around the corner at speeds that deserved a ticket under any circumstances.

And considering that the truck was heading straight for the gates of the power plant, it was fair to say that these were not any circumstances. What did an armoured truck want with a power plant? What were they there to collect or drop off? Dust would be brought in by a tanker.

And why so fast? What reason did this truck, or any vehicle, have to be driving so fast towards gates that were closed — unless they wanted to smash them open?

Martinez grabbed the radio in her own truck, holding it up to her mouth. "Martinez to all units: stop that truck. Repeat: stop that truck; do not let it reach the power plant." She let the radio fall down onto her lap. "I hope you're ready, Mallard," she said as her right hand found the gearstick and shifted into first gear. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator. "'Cause I think this night is about to get interesting."

She popped the handbrake. The undercover truck leapt forwards with a jolt that threw Martinez and Mallard forward in their seats. Martinez’s hand found the gearstick again, and the truck sped up as she switched quickly between gears to match her increasing speed. Her other hand gripped the wheel steadily as she raced in pursuit of the armoured truck.

One of the uniformed cars, its sirens flashing, had already moved forward to partially cover the gates. The black armoured truck tried to turn, maybe in a desperate attempt to manoeuvre around the police car while still passing through — in every sense — the gates, but it was too late, and the truck was going too fast. One of the officers had time to get out of the car before the armoured truck slammed into it, ploughing the police car into the metal gates that warded the power plant, partially smashing through them, wedging the police car against the corner of the gateway where it met the perimeter wall and getting stuck itself thanks to the same police car that it had stuck. The armoured truck growled, its engine straining, its wheels spinning, but though the police car's body was crumpled and battered — indeed, because it was partly crumpled and battered — it couldn't be moved any further into the plant.

And neither could the armoured truck.

Martinez began to slow down. She switched her left hand onto the wheel, and with her right hand, she reached for her pistol.

The officer who'd still been in the car when it was hit was trying to crawl out. The officer who had already gotten out, looking around to see that all the other cars were converging upon his position, or else the officers were already getting out of theirs, drew his sidearm as he approached the armoured truck.

Martinez braked, stopping her own truck and opening the door. As the crisp, cool air entered the cab, she could hear the officer commanding whoever was in the armoured truck to open the door and come out with their hands up.

The armoured truck was illuminated in the lights of many police cars, marked and unmarked. It sat there, dark and silent, no answer to the officer's command.

Martinez got out of the car, drawing her pistol as she did so. Mallard did likewise, holding that sword thing that he'd hoped to use as a huntsman. Other officers, uniformed and detectives, did the same, all with their weapons drawn and pointed towards the armoured truck as they waited to see what the occupants would do.

The uniformed officer, aware of so much backup, approached the door.

The door opened.

Martinez’s finger tightened ever so slightly upon the trigger.

A young man — about the same age as Weiss, maybe a couple of years older — got out of the truck. He was skinny and very pale, like he didn't get out of the house and into the sun enough. He was dressed all in black, just like his truck, a long black leather jacket that screamed 'trying too hard' and a black shirt with a skull on it. His dark hair was shaved on the back and sides in an uppercut, which really brought out how long and angular his head was; it was doing him no favours whatsoever. He held his hands up above his head and shuffled along the ground.

His voice trembled as he said, "The dark is rising! The rough beast is slouching towards Vytal! She has four horns and shall claim four crowns!"

Martinez rolled her eyes. Grimm worshipper. Maybe it's the fact that the Vytal Tournament is over got him worked up. But, while most grimm worshippers were pretty pathetic in her — admittedly limited, because they mostly weren't organised enough to commit organised crime — experience, nevertheless, she had come across a couple who were cold as ice.

And the entire Valish Police Department hadn't been put on standby because of a couple of kids who thought that the Vytal Festival was a waypoint on the road to the apocalypse.

As the uniformed officer pushed the kid down onto the ground and started to cuff him and read him his rights, Martinez turned away, eyes scanning the surrounding area, the rooftops, the—

The loud and lengthy blaring of a horn alerted Martinez and the other cops to the approach of a lorry barreling down the road. It was a real big rig, long nosed, towing a long SDC trailer after it. Martinez tried to aim for the cab, but the headlights were so bright that they blinded her, she couldn't see who was driving or — once the lorry was coming towards her — anything but the brightness of the headlights that was bearing down upon her.

Martinez threw herself to one side, rolling along the tarmac of the road as the lorry smashed through the intervening police cars, scattering police officers in all directions to avoid being run over until it skidded to a halt with a screech of brakes.

The trailer doors popped open, and men and women poured out. They wore bandanas, sunglasses and ballcaps to hide their faces; they wore armour vests over their shirts and blouses; and they had rifles, submachine guns, and shotguns in their hands.

They opened fire, the muzzles of their guns flashing to light up the gathering darkness. Police officers, caught in the open, went down; others returned fire as they scrambled to take cover. Martinez saw Cote, the Menagerie liaison whatever, firing with one hand while she dragged Weatherly behind a car. She saw the uniformed officer who had been arresting that kid from the armoured truck lying face down on the ground as the kid himself scrambled for the safety of his friends.

Martinez could have shot him in the back — her finger tightened on the trigger — but he was unarmed, and there had to be lines that separated you from the villains, or else you couldn't really talk about being the good guys no more. Instead, she shot someone who actually had a gun in the kneecaps, and while he had a gun, he turned out not to have any aura because he dropped his rifle and went down on the ground, shrieking and moaning in pain as he clutched at his legs.

Mallard charged towards the cultists who had piled out of the truck, firing his pistol with one hand while he brandished his sword with the other. He tried to parry the bullets with it, like he’d actually been accepted into Beacon or something, but he didn’t get them all because he staggered and nearly spun around when one hit him in the shoulder. Still, he kept on going, she had to give the kid that.

Martinez, still firing, got up and went after him because she certainly wasn’t going to let him charge in there like that by himself. She just wished she had her pick-axe handle with her.

Unfortunately, she’d left it in the van.

Mallard reached the first grimm worshipper — assuming that was what they all were, what with this whole thing looking like a set up and the first guy talking about the rough beast and the four horns and all that crap — and slashed at him with his sword; his opponent parried with the shaft of his rifle, but Mallard pistol-whipped across the side of the head.

Good boy.

The guy didn’t go down just yet, but it hurt him harder than it would have if he’d had any aura, because he dropped his gun and started groaning in pain. Mallard hit him again, with the hilt of his sword this time, and the guy went down.

Martinez had almost caught up when Mallard found his next opponent, a pretty muscular dude, bald and not wearing a cap over his head, nothing you wouldn’t find in most dive bars in this town, right down to ripping the sleeves of his plaid shirt to show off his grimm tattoos. Mallard slashed at him sideways; tattoo guy ducked nimbly beneath his slash and hit Mallard in the gut with the butt of his shotgun. Mallard doubled over with an ‘oof.’ Tattoos hit him again, in the chin this time, not hard enough to knock him head over heels but to stagger him backwards, certainly.

Mister unexpectedly capable reversed his shotgun again so the barrel was pointing into Mallard’s chest.

Martinez yelled as she shot him, firing three rounds into his chest. He had aura — as she might have guessed — so it didn’t hurt him none, but it did stop him from taking the shot at Mallard.

And then Martinez was right on top of him. She ploughed into him before he could take a shot at her either, bowling him over with the force of her momentum so that they both went down in a heap on the tarmac — with Martinez on top. He tried to hit her with the shotgun barrel; Martinez took it on the wrist, and what with them being so close, he didn’t have room for a big swing, so it didn’t hurt her aura that much. She, on the other hand, didn’t need a lot of room to smack him in the face with her pistol grip, straight down, one hit after the next like she was hammering down a particularly stubborn and annoying nail doing some DIY. One, two, three, four, he tried to hit her again, and she blocked it with her other arm again, grabbing the shotgun barrel and wrestling with him for it while she hit him. He tried to headbutt her, his bald head erupting upwards, but his beefy red neck was too short to get to her. Five, six, seven, eight, his aura broke, and the ninth hit put him to sleep — and it would give him something to wake up to, as well.

Yeah, that’s what you get, Martinez thought.

She’d emptied her pistol, so she grabbed the guy’s shotgun — it wasn’t like he’d be needing it anymore — as she got up.

“Mallard, get back, find cover!” she yelled, firing the shotgun at the nearest target and blowing him sideways across the road.

She began to retreat herself, pumping the shotgun as she did so. She felt a couple of bullets strike her, putting a couple of nasty dents in her aura, but she found the shooter and shot them next. She pumped the shotgun — only to find that it was empty.

Aw, come on! Martinez threw the shotgun away and, she wasn’t ashamed to admit it, ran; there was no point in standing still or walking slowly while getting shot at only to see your aura chipped away. Better to run and make it to cover where you might do some good.

She threw herself to the ground and skidded under the van to take cover behind it. She could hear the bullets slamming into the metal on the other side but so far none of them were actually punching through it.

Although they were shattering the windows and getting glass all over Mallard, who was crouched behind the door.

“What do we do, El-Tee?” he asked, shaking some of the shattered glass off.

“Get away from there,” Martinez said, reloading her pistol and gesturing for him to come over to her, away from the window and, as importantly, away from the door.

He crept towards her, and as he did, she crept around him.

“We do what we can to keep them away,” she said, opening the door on their side. “And we call for backup.” She raised her arm up and fired a few shots blindly out of the broken window on the driver’s side as she groped with her other hand for the radio. She found it and pulled it over to her.

“This is Lieutenant Martinez of the Flying Squad; we have an emergency at Batterham Power Station, shots fired and officers down, requesting immediate assistance.”

There was no reply. There was only silence from the radio.

Martinez waited a couple of seconds, then pressed down on the button to transmit again.

“This is Lieutenant Martinez at Batterham Power Station; we have shots fired and officers down, requesting immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me?”

There was more silence, silence that didn’t last that long, but it seemed longer when Martinez was leaning into the cab of her truck with bullets slamming into the door.

Then the radio lit up.

“This is Lieutenant Traxler, requesting backup at Kingston Relay Tower; we are under attack.”

“This is Captain Benson, shots fired at South Bank Power Station, requesting immediate assistance from all available units.”

“This is Sergeant Keel; we need help from any available units at VBC Studios, officer down, repeat, officer down.”

More and more requests for backup rolled in: from the skydock, from power stations, from CCT relays, everyone was requesting backup; no one was announcing that they were on their way, not to Martinez, not to anyone or anywhere.

Everyone needed help, but nobody was coming for them. It was as if the entire of the VPD had been deployed, and they still didn’t have enough officers.

But that … that couldn’t be right. No, no, it was a lot of officers, and yeah, if everywhere was under attack, then they were going to be stretched thin, but what about the other shifts, what about rotations, what was command doing about all this? Heck, what about the military?

Why wasn’t anybody answering?

Was anybody even listening to them?

Ironwood felt that he had reason to be satisfied with the way the battle was going so far.

Not least of which was the way that the battle was presently contained to the skies around the Amity Colosseum. He had no doubt that, at some point tonight, the grimm presently massed around Vale would commence their attack — that was why he didn’t dare weaken his own forces on the perimeter to defend Amity — but every moment they delayed gave his forces more time to destroy the grimm around the arena and get the people out of there. Not to mention get his students down so that any who wished to join the battle could do so. He couldn’t say that they wouldn’t be welcome.

The other reason he had to be satisfied was that his forces were winning. Yes, they had suffered losses in the defending squadrons, and that was always a tragedy, but in return for those losses, they had defended the Amity Arena, prevented almost any grimm from landing on it, and were gradually whittling down the numbers of the grimm to nothing. If things continued on this present trajectory, then it couldn’t be long until the grimm around Amity were destroyed, with no civilian casualties.

It was enough to make him wonder why the battle had been opened in this way. He supposed that if the grimm had managed to destroy Amity and kill everyone inside, it would have been very demoralising, but had they really thought that was likely?

Only one thing disturbed him. Only one thing prevented his unalloyed satisfaction, and that was the slow but steady movement of the Valish destroyer Terror towards the Amity Arena.

Whose side were they on? What did they intend? If Cinder was right, then the Valish military, in thrall to a Siren, could not be trusted. As such, he had no choice but to regard the glacial approach of the Terror with suspicion. But what was he supposed to do about it? He couldn’t order his ships to open fire without cause, and if he did, there was a good chance his officers would refuse to obey him.

And, though he was prepared to open fire, if he had to, for the good of Atlas, for his fleet, for the good of humanity … he didn’t want to be the one to fire the first shot. If this was the start of a war between Atlas and Vale — though for gods’ sake, he hoped it wasn’t — he wanted history to record that it was Vale, not Atlas, who fired first.

But that lofty sentiment, and the fact that hardly anyone knew the truth — the possible truth — about the Valish Defence Force, meant that his hands were tied. He could watch the Terror coming, but he couldn’t act on his misgivings.

“Hail them again,” he ordered des Voeux.

“Yes, sir,” des Voeux replied. He bent down a little over his console. “Valish warship Terror, this is the Atlesian cruiser Valiant, what are your intentions, respond, over.”

He waited, and Ironwood waited too, as the seconds entered into double digits.

“No response, sir,” des Vœux confirmed.

Colonel Sky Beak cleared his throat. “Ahem, General Ironwood, if I may—”

Ironwood turned around to see Sky Beak gesturing with one hand towards the communications station.

Ironwood considered for a moment. He trusted that Sky Beak was not under the influence of the Siren — he’d been on Ironwood’s ship, and none of the rest of his crew were under her control — but at the end of the day, he was still a Valish officer.

And the Valish were not yet their enemies.

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sky Beak said, clicking his heels together as he quickly crossed the CIC, his boots squeaking on the polished floor, until he stood over des Voeux and his console.

Sky Beak bent down and said, “Terror, this is Colonel Sky Beak of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons, please respond.” He fell silent, waiting. Waiting for as long as Ironwood had waited for a response, and to just as little avail.

Sky Beak exhaled wordlessly. “Try hailing General Blackthorn.”

“We’ve tried,” des Voeux said.

“Then try again!” Sky Beak said sharply. He sighed. “I apologise. Please.”

“Do it,” Ironwood instructed.

“Yes, sir,” said des Voeux. “Hailing Valish Headquarters now.”

“General Blackthorn,” Sky Beak said. “This is Colonel Sky Beak aboard the Atlesian flagship; we’re tracking the Terror and Valish airships moving towards the Amity Colosseum, but Terror isn’t answering hails. We should coordinate our efforts to protect Amity with the Atlesians.” He paused, a drawn out pause in the hope of an answer that did not come. “General Blackthorn? Will someone damn well answer?!”

“Colonel Sky Beak, please step back,” Ironwood said, calmly but firmly.

Sky Beak did as he was bade, but as he made his way to stand behind Ironwood once more he said, “I don’t understand it, General; why won’t they respond?”

“I don’t know,” Ironwood lied.

“Sir,” Irving spoke up from the sensor station. “The Terror is picking up speed.”

“What about the Zhenyuan?” asked Ironwood.

“Keeping clear of the Arena, sir.”

“Signal all ships and squadrons,” Ironwood said. “Tell them to keep their distance from the Valish as much as possible without compromising the defence of the Amity Colosseum.”

“General Ironwood!” exclaimed Sky Beak. “I know that the lack of response is concerning, but—”

“I hope that the Valish are joining us in defence of the Amity Arena and all the people on board,” Ironwood declared. “And our forces will continue to prioritise that defence. But, in light of the circumstances, in light of the complete silence both from the Terror and from the Valish high command, I can’t afford to be complacent.”

“Okay, people,” Spitfire said, “you heard the man: stay away from the Valish.”

“I thought they were on our side,” Misty said.

“They probably demanded their own special part of the sky to defend so that they can say they contributed,” remarked Soarin’ derisively.

“That’ll do, Five,” Spitfire told him. “I don’t know why we have to steer clear; I just know what we’ve been told, so let’s follow orders, do our jobs, and wrap this up so everyone can get off that arena and go enjoy their party.”

Speaking of wrapping things up, she targeted a nevermore and hit it with two shots from her laser, turning it to ashes.

With Silver Zoom on her wing, Spitfire rolled her Skydart so that she could get a look at the Valish — without getting closer to them; she wasn’t disobeying any orders — as they approached. Their warship was moving faster now, picking up speed even as it was reaching the point where it ought to have been slowing down; it should have moved faster to get here then slowed as it reached its intended position.

But Spitfire was more interested in the fighters that were gathered around the destroyer like fleas on a dog. There were thirty-six of them, an entire wing, keeping pace with their warship for now, arranged in a protective formation. They were flying Atlesian airships, old AF-14 Tomahawks. The Tomahawk had been a fine airship in its day … but that ‘in its day’ was doing an awful lot of work in that statement; it was a relic at this point, they’d all been retired from Atlesian service years ago, and the Valish should have done the same; they probably hadn’t been willing to spend the money on it, just like they hadn’t been willing to spend the money replacing their warships until now, but what that meant was that even the Mistralians had better airships than they did, even if not so many of them.

And yet, for all that, the Valish were still better off than any Atlesian Skyhawk pilot.

And the Tomahawk certainly looked nice, she’d give it that. With its swept back wings, its unobtrusive engines mounted at the rear, its fuselage pointed like a missile, it looked the part of a fighter; Spitfire would even go so far as to say that it made her Skydart look ugly.

But air battles weren’t beauty contests, and they weren’t won by the best-looking airship but by the best performance.

And on that score, the Tomahawk had been left behind.

Not that it mattered. The Atlesians were winning this battle without any Valish help, and they would win it with or without any Valish help. Soarin’s attitude might be impolitic towards their hosts, but he was pretty much right: the Valish were showing up late to the party so that they could grab a slice of the credit, so that Councillor Emerald could go on TV tonight or tomorrow morning and say ‘we helped!’

As those thoughts passed through Spitfire’s mind, the Valish Tomahawks began to change position; instead of swarming all around the Valish destroyer, they moved to cluster exclusively on the port side, leaving the starboard side unprotected.

Or leaving it clear.

Having sped up, the Valish warship began to slow down again; it was approaching the Atlesian cruiser Resolution, which was turning towards it even as it moved on a course which would take it past the destroyer’s bow and away from them.

The Valish destroyer also began to turn, presenting its now-unmasked broadside towards the Resolution.

Its gun ports were open, all cannons pointed towards the Atlesian cruiser.

Spitfire’s eyes widened. They wouldn’t.

The Valish fired.

Twenty guns mounted upon the broadside blazed with fire, obscuring the ship itself in a wall of flame. Then it was the turn of the Resolution’s port side to be consumed with fire as explosions ripped along the flank of the vessel. She staggered, shoved sideways by the force of the impact, listing slightly to port as smoke and flame rose from her wounded side. She dipped a little in the air; Spitfire could see secondary explosions bursting within, lighting up the night sky.

Spitfire’s comm lit up, the voices of her pilots filling the cockpit.

“What the—?”

“Did the Valish just fire on Resolution?”

“What do we do?”

“Was it an accident?”

“How do we—?”

“That’s enough!” Spitfire yelled. “Get it together, Wonderbolts; we—”

She stopped, as she saw the Valish fighters peel away from their destroyer, splitting up and beginning to streak through the air in pairs.

Two of them were coming straight for her and Silver Zoom.

“Wonderbolts, take evasive action!” she commanded. “Do not return fire until we have the go ahead from command.” Spitfire turned away from the Valish, increasing the power to her engines to increase speed, hoping to outrun the Valish Tomahawks until she had permission to fight. She switched to the command channel. “Wonderbolt Lead to Command; come in, Command.”

Ironwood tightened his jaw. So, it was true. What Cinder had told Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos about the Valish military had been correct. They had been subverted, and now, they were their enemies.

He almost wished that he could be as shocked about this as the rest of the officers and crew on the bridge.

Almost, because if he were as shocked, then he would have lost his ability to respond, but nevertheless, it would have been … a relief, perhaps, a weight off his conscience not to have seen this coming.

To be like Fitzjames, who had half risen out of his seat with an oath, like des Voeux who was staring at the image of the damaged Resolution with astonishment, like the rest who seemed to have been stunned by what had just happened.

Colonel Sky Beak also seemed to have been shocked by what had just happened. His voice was weak, almost feeble as he murmured. “I … I don’t understand; I—”

“Colonel Sky Beak, you will surrender your sidearm immediately,” General Ironwood commanded without looking at him. “Sergeant Wallis, take his gun.”

“Yes sir.”

“You,” Sky Beak began. “You can’t think that I—”

“What I think is irrelevant, Colonel; what I know is that a Valish ship has just fired on one of my own. For that reason alone, I cannot allow you to remain armed.” It was hard on the Valish Colonel, who by virtue of being up on Ironwood’s ship probably hadn’t been affected by the Siren; but it was, if nothing else, the response that his crew would expect from him in this situation — not to mention the possibility that Sky Beak might prioritise his loyalty to Vale over his good sense. “Des Voeux!”

Des Voeux started, tearing his eyes away from the monitor. “Yes, sir?”

“Patch me through to the Resolution,” Ironwood commanded.

“Aye aye, sir,” des Vœux replied. He started to work, then hesitated. “Sir, Wonderbolt Leader is hailing.”

“Put them through,” Ironwood said.

“Aye, aye, sir,” des Vœux repeated.

“Command, this is Wonderbolt Lead,” Spitfire said. “The Valish have just opened fire—”

“I’m aware, Spitfire,” Ironwood said.

“And now their fighters are moving to engage,” Spitfire added. “Request— what are your orders, sir?”

“General!” Sky Beak cried. “There has to be some—”

“Be quiet, Colonel,” Ironwood said sharply. “Sergeant, you will escort the Colonel to his quarters and keep him there under guard until I see fit to release him. Spitfire, no, des Voeux, signal all units: the Valish Defence Force has just launched an attack on the Resolution. We don’t know how deep this madness spreads, but all units are to be on their guard and have permission to defend themselves if attacked. Spitfire, all Valish forces around Amity are to be treated as hostile, but your priority is still the defence of Amity Arena and preventing any grimm from gaining entry.”

Nevertheless, there was a note of grim satisfaction in Spitfire’s voice as she said, “Understood, sir. Over and out.”

“Now, put me through to the Resolution,” Ironwood instructed.

“Yes, sir,” des Voeux replied. “Patching you through now.”

“Resolution, this is Valiant,” Ironwood said. “What’s your situation?”

The reply from Major Cochrane, officer commanding Resolution, was preceded by a cough. “Multiple direct hits on the port side, sir,” she said. “Hull breaches, fires on multiple decks, point defence systems are compromised. Situation excellent; I’m coming about to return fire with the main guns.”

“Can you handle it?” Ironwood asked. “That sounds like an extensive list of damage.”

“It’s a Valish rust bucket who’s lost the advantage of surprise,” Cochrane protested. “Sir, if I can’t blow it out the sky, I deserve to hand in my commission and Resolution deserves to be on the scrap heap. Leave this to us.”

Well, this certainly dented her morale, Ironwood thought. “Very well. Good hunting, Cochrane. Ironwood out.” He turned to Schnee, who as far as he could tell had not moved at all. She had been stood there, waiting for his order.

“Major Schnee,” he said. “You will take a small force and compel the surrender of the Valish high command.”

All as they had discussed earlier, of course, but if Fitzjames and the other officers heard him giving the order, it would be so much the better — it would stop them wondering why he and Schnee had come up with a plan ahead of time.

The fewer awkward questions the better.

Schnee saluted. “Yes, sir!”

“Wait!” Sky Beak shouted. “General, wait, let me go with them!”

Ironwood looked over his shoulder. Sky Beak stood in the doorway of the CIC; he wasn’t resisting the sergeant enough to get himself a rifle butt driven into his gut, but he was failing to obey the hand on his arm.

“You want to force General Blackthorn to surrender and order his forces to do the same,” Sky Beak went on, talking quickly; the words tumbled out of his mouth. “Having a Valish officer present would— might make things easier. Might make it seem less like a coup. Or an Atlesian takeover.”

Sergeant Wallis pulled him away.

“Wait,” Ironwood said. “Hold, sergeant.”

He thought for a moment. The Valish colonel had a point; when it came to order the Valish to stand down, if General Blackthorn refused to give the order, it might be of assistance to have a Valish officer, a high-ranking officer known to other senior officers, who could declare that he was relieving General Blackthorn of his command and taking his place.

It might not work; there was no guarantee at all that soldiers under the control of a Siren would obey him, or obey an order to surrender for that matter.

But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t worth trying.

Ironwood glanced at Schnee. If she wasn’t comfortable with the idea, then he wouldn’t force the colonel on her.

“I will do what you think best, of course, sir,” Schnee said softly, in a voice that conveyed no opinion upon the matter.

“Major Schnee will be in command; you will be an observer,” Ironwood informed him.

“Of course.”

“And you will be unarmed,” Ironwood added.

“You can put me in cuffs to suppress my aura, if you like,” Sky Beak muttered.

Ironwood’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You’d go in defenceless?”

“To prevent bloodshed and the start of a war?” Sky Beak asked. “To prevent devastation befalling my home?” He swallowed. “Yes, I’d like to think I would.”

It was impossible not to somewhat admire the man for that, but Ironwood’s admiration did not extend so far as declining to restrain him. “Then I wish you luck, Colonel. Sergeant, restrain the Colonel and hand him into the custody of Major Schnee.” He turned to Schnee. “Get it done, Schnee. And get it done quickly, while there’s still a chance to stop this before it gets out of hand.”

Schnee came to attention, her boot slamming onto the deck. “Count on it, sir. You can rely on me.”

Author's Note

Something like the scene of the Valish attack on Resolution - from Spitfire's perspective, the confusion of the Wonderbolts - was something that I wanted to put in the original version of the story, except that it would have been the Mistralians doing the firing. It ended up not happening, because it didn't quite work there, but I'm still quite glad all these years later to be able to find a home for something similar.

Martial Law (New)

Martial Law

Ozpin stood at the window of his office, the vast window which offered him such an expansive view of Beacon, of Vale beyond, and of the skies over both his school and his city.

The skies that had become a battlefield.

He had his cane clasped in his hands. He very much wanted to lean upon it. Watching the Atlesian and Valish airships do battle in the skies above his school, above his city, he felt … he felt very old. He felt as though he had lived too long.

It was always true. It had been true for many years now — he had always lived too long — but there were times when he felt his age particularly intensely.

Anyone who had lived through the Great War as he had might look out and look up at this battle between the forces of Vale and Atlas, a battle of the sort that was supposed to have been banished forever, and think that they had lived too long. Anyone who had seen the days that he had seen, witnessed the bloodshed he had witnessed, who had passed through those battles and that bloodshed to chain up cruel war within the bounds of Vytal, might look up and see those same gates opened wide and war unleashed once more in all his horrors and despair of it.

He had … he had less cause than most men to lament, though it was a tragedy most grievous. When one lived as long as he did, it was inevitable that one would see the same things over and over again, cycles repeating themselves for good and ill alike. There came a point when one could only say that all of this had happened before, and all of it would happen again. He had never wholly believed that the era of peace ushered in after the Faunus Rights Revolution could last forever; he would have been a fool had he believed that the gates and chains that held back war would hold for all time until the utter end of Remnant.

But to see them fall at this time, in this way, in this place … had he not the right, as any old man with wizened skin and rheumy eyes would surely have the right, to lament, to shake his head, to weep, to feel that he had lived too long? To wish that he had not lived to see such times return, though he had lived and he would live to see all times?

Long had he lived, too long. It had been so long since he had heard the chimes of midnight that … it must have been a year ago or more.

And yet, there were times when he felt his age most keenly, and this was surely one of them. To watch Vale and Atlas at each other’s throats once more.

He closed his eyes and fought an inward battle against despair. This might not lead to war. The situation might be contained. If the Siren were defeated, if General Blackthorn was forced to surrender—

“Do you really believe that?” Raven asked. “Are you really still so naïve as to think that’s possible?”

Ozpin glanced at her over his shoulder. She was not really here, of course; this was not Raven, this … this was his fears, his doubts, made manifest out of his mind. Were Glynda to come in right now, she would see him conversing with the empty air.

“There is still a chance,” he said. “Still a chance that war may be avoided.”

“Look out of your window, old man,” Raven snapped derisively. “The war has started!”

“Even if it has started,” said Summer Rose, appearing on the far side of the room, “it may finish on this same night.”

She wore a cloak of white, a white exterior and a white lining, clasped across her chest by four crossbelts of black leather, with the silver rose that she had passed onto her daughter clasped in the centre of those belts. Beneath the cloak, her dress was red, with a knee-length skirt that billowed outwards, giving her plenty of room to move and no chance to trip or obstruct her. In one hand, she held her familial axe, looking large and brutish compared with its slight and — if he might admit it without seeming a goat — rather lovely owner.

She, too, was not here, worse luck. He would have welcomed her now. He would have welcomed her return at any time. If Summer had returned, not dead all these years but … if she had lost her memory, or were serving as a priestess in a Mistralian temple waiting for her husband to decide to take a third wife like some preposterous comedy, then Ozpin would have believed that there were other gods than the cruel ones that oversaw this world.

But she was not here, any more than Raven was; Summer, too, was conjured by his mind, though from a better part of it than Raven was sprung out from.

“You don’t believe that,” Raven said. “You can’t believe that.”

“Nobody wants a war—” Summer began.

“Someone wants a war, or else how did it start?” demanded Raven.

“You know why,” Summer responded. “If it weren’t for the Siren, then none of this would be happening.”

“But it has happened,” Raven declared. “And now, it cannot be stopped. No one knows about a Siren, about Equestrian magic influencing people’s minds, and no one will care. All that they’ll know, all that they’ll care about, is that a Valish airship opened fire on an Atlesian ship and that the Atlesian ship is about to destroy the Valish ship.”

Ozpin turned away from both of them, looking out of his window once again; though the air was filled with flying grimm, and with the smaller fighters of both the Valish and Atlesians locked in battle, the greater size of the Valish destroyer and of General Ironwood’s cruiser — not to mention the fire and smoke emanating out of the latter — made them easy to pick out.

The Atlesians were firing back. The Valish, as far as Ozpin could see, had not fired a second volley; the guns on the Valish destroyers were rather old, and each gun had to be individually reloaded in a process that took some little time. No doubt, the airmen on board that ship were working as fast as they could, pushing their systems hard to move the great shells from the magazine to the guns, but … during his time on the Council, he had never pushed for greater vigour on the part of the Valish Defence Force; if they had withered and died and left the defence of Vale entirely to huntsmen and huntresses, he would not have regretted.

Certainly, he would not have regretted it tonight. No, he would not have regretted one bit if those Valish sailors had not been there, had not been driven into a battle that did not need to be fought. If they had not been about to die.

But while the Valish reloaded, the Atlesians fired; their ship might have looked wounded, but it was certainly not stricken; missiles leapt from the undamaged parts of the port side, and so, too, did twin lines of shells from dorsally-mounted howitzers. Ozpin had been unfortunate enough to hear James holding forth on warship design on one occasion and knew that he considered the pair of howitzers to be an archaic feature, one that ought to be removed from the next iteration of cruisers, but whoever was commanding that ship up there certainly seemed to be getting some use out of them.

Missile and howitzer shell — the latter being pumped out with a rapidity that must make the Valish envious — slammed into the flank of the Valish destroyer, bursting on its armour in a series of explosions that, at times, managed to completely obscure the ship itself, hiding it behind smoke and flowers of flame. Neither shell nor missile penetrated the armour — the Valish ships were thickly armoured, if nothing else — but Ozpin guessed that the aim was not to destroy the Valish ship with that fire but to disorient the Valish crew, knock out their sensors, and possibly disable some of the starboard guns.

The fact that the Valish still did not return fire could be said to show that it was working.

The Valish destroyer attempted to turn; this ship, like all the Valish ships bar the purchased Mistralian ones, had a triangular prow jutting out from the main boxy hull, and in addition to the four guns mounted on the bow, there was a long ram jutting out beyond it.

Judging by the way the Valish ship was trying to move forwards, Ozpin thought they meant to use the ram as much as the guns.

But the Atlesian ship was moving too, turning even as it reduced the amount of fire that it could bring to bear, presenting its own bow towards the Valish ship.

The Valish fired their bow cannons. Two of them missed, passing beneath the Atlesians to strike … to strike the Amity Colosseum.

Ozpin blanched as flames erupted upon the arena. He could not imagine — he didn’t want to imagine — how many people had been killed or wounded just now.

Another of the Valish shots glanced off the Atlesian armour, now that it was angled more towards them. Only a single shell struck home, causing the Atlesian to shudder a little under the impact.

Then the Atlesians fired their lasers.

Twin red beams erupted out of the Atlesian ship, streaking across the short distance between the two vessels before slamming into the Valish hull.

As the lasers pierced through the armour on the Valish destroyer, it seemed to Ozpin that a sequence of explosions ripped the Valish ship apart from the inside out, cascading down the ship from bow to stern, causing the armour plates to bulge outwards, or to burst, gun and plate and shard of hull flying through the evening sky to fall on … he thought that the debris ought to land on the inner cliffs, facing towards Vale, around the Vault of the Fall Maiden; there should be no one there to get hurt by it.

Which was all to the good, as it seemed that there would imminently be falling something that was even more substantial than the debris thrown aside by the explosions within the Valish ship. The warship was wholly stricken, that was clear even to Ozpin at this distance; it had not completely exploded, but if anyone was still alive inside, that fact must have been small consolation to them, for the ship was burning from stem to stern, fires visible upon the hull and through the holes that had been blown in the hull by the explosions within; smoke billowed from every newly made orifice, and even with the Atlesian laser fire ceased, more explosions looked to be erupting within. The forward movement of the Valish ship had ceased; it hung listless in the air, leaning to the left — no, not leaning; it was turning, turning upside down as it began to fall, spinning in the air, towards the ground.

Ozpin watched it fall, the burning shell of a once-proud ship, the burning remains of a housing for over a hundred men. He glanced up towards the Atlesian warship, wounded but victorious; she could not help but look proud as she remained airborne, the sole survivor of the brief duel, for all that she had been taken by surprise at its beginning. Were they celebrating on the Atlesian ship, he wondered; were they whooping and cheering on the bridge, were they filled with jubilation at their victory over Vale? Or did they, like him, mourn the loss of so many souls for so little purpose?

"Do you think that this war can start and end in a single night?" Raven asked. "Do you still imagine that such acts can be forgiven? It has begun in blood, and in blood it will be ended."

"That is the old way," Ozpin murmured. "But this is a new world, not the world that you — or even Summer — live in. We must … hope."

"Hope for what?" Raven demanded. "Hope that people will accept their losses, that they'll put aside their anger and resentment and move forward?"

"That people are willing to sacrifice to maintain the gift of peace, the pearl beyond price," Ozpin said softly. "That they are prepared to endure, rather than see their kingdom plunged into chaos."

Raven snorted. "Good luck with that. If you are so hopeful of the virtue of the masses, then why haven't you told them about Salem and all the rest? Where is this great hope when you sit up here like an old spider and spin your webs and entrap poor fools in your schemes and webs and wars?"

Ozpin did not reply. There was little enough to be said on the subject. "Nevertheless, in the circumstances," he replied, "hope may be all that remains."

Raven looked at him. She did not say anything, but he knew that he had not convinced her.

How could he, when he had not convinced himself?

He frowned, as a flashing light on his desk indicated that he was getting a call. At this time? In these circumstances?

Raven and Summer both joined him in looking at the green light projected above his desk.

"It must be important," Summer said.

Raven said nothing. She could not deny Summer's words because Ozpin could not deny them. Neither his fear nor his fragile hope denied that, well, one certainly hoped that nobody would think to bother him with trivialities at such a time as this.

He walked stiffly to his desk, feeling his years more than he sometimes did, more than he liked to, feeling an ache in his joints, feeling a desire to lean upon his stick for support and not for show. Nevertheless, he did not sit down. He did not want to sit down; sitting down, in the present circumstances, would feel like giving up.

Although it did mean that he had to lean across his chair in order to take the call.

It was Councillor Emerald, whom at some times, Ozpin would have considered one of the trivialities with which he hoped not to be disturbed, but now, it would be a relief to discover that someone in Vale wished to avert the looming catastrophe of war.

He looked tired. Ozpin could hardly blame him for that, in the circumstances; he supposed he must look rather tired himself. But even Councillor Emerald's normally majestic antlers seemed to be drooping from weariness or sorrow; he looked more like a weary king feeling the tremendous burden of the hollow crown than he did an elected official.

"Ozpin," Councillor Emerald said. His voice was hoarse, husky even, as though a permanent groan had settled in his throat and could not be discharged. "Are you watching the news?"

Ozpin kept his back bent a little so that the First Councillor could see him better. "I have no need to watch the news, Councillor; I can see what they're seeing perfectly well from my own window."

"You're talking about our ship opening fire on the Atlesians, the Atlesians returning fire, our fighters attacking theirs?" Councillor Emerald asked.

The way that he said it filled Ozpin with a sudden apprehension. A chill ran up his spine. "Is there … something else that the news is reporting, Councillor?"

"Attacks all over the city," Councillor Emerald replied. "Grimm worshippers, it seems, or radicals, or … someone. Not the White Fang, humans, but they're even attacking the broadcasting centre. You can hear the gunfire outside as Lisa Lavender is broadcasting from inside. The— damn! Ozpin, look out of your window again."

Ozpin did as the First Councillor bade him do, turning away from the Councillor's face projected above his desk and turning to the window. At first, he looked up, towards the Amity Arena in the sky, towards the three-way battle between Atlesians, Valish, and grimm taking place there.

"Look down, Ozpin, look to Vale," Councillor Emerald told him.

Ozpin looked and saw that part of Vale was dark. The whole city had been illuminated not too long ago, the lights turning on as the sun went down; the rest of the city was still lit up, lit up so brightly that it challenged the stars themselves, but there was one particular patch, a great square in the middle of Vale that had gone so dark, it was as though an immense pit had opened up and swallowed it.

"It's not just the broadcasting centre," Councillor Emerald told him. "They're attacking power stations, CCT relays; it's just like you warned me last night."

Ozpin turned away from the window. "But the police—"

"Are on guard at all critical infrastructure locations," Councillor Emerald said. "I told you, you can hear the gunfire outside the VBC headquarters; who do you think is shooting back? But the police … obviously, they're not holding every location, and I can't get hold of General Blackthorn or Commissioner Hingle. I don't know why we've fired on the Atlesians; I don't know what, if anything, is being done to reinforce the police under attack or retake the locations that have been lost, whether the military and the police are coordinating; I— you're the first person to actually answer me since … since General Blackthorn when the grimm first started to attack Amity. He told me then that preparations were nearly complete and that his forces would be joining the defence. I've not heard from him since." He rubbed his eyes. "I understand that this is a crisis, but for gods' sake, I'm the First Councillor! I'm entitled to be kept informed, even if it's just by some spotty second lieutenant telling me that everything's going according to plan."

"I very much doubt that things are going according to General Blackthorn's plan," Ozpin murmured as he walked back towards his desk.

"Which part, that his ship fired on an Atlesian cruiser or that the Atlesians blew up his ship in return?" Councillor Emerald asked bitterly. "Are we in a war, Ozpin?"

"That depends, in part, on you, First Councillor," Ozpin pointed out mildly.

"Does it? Who am I? I'm just a man in a house who can't get anybody to take his calls!" Councillor Emerald declared.

"You are the First Councillor of Vale, and you will still be the First Councillor when General Blackthorn is occupying a cell for his actions tonight," Ozpin said.

Councillor Emerald's eyebrows rose. "So you think he planned this?"

"You yourself noticed that he was acting … strangely," Ozpin replied.

"Yes," Councillor Emerald muttered. "Yes, I suppose I did, but … this? Why? What's gotten into him? This is madness; surely, he must see that?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't begin to imagine what is in General Blackthorn's mind," Ozpin said, somewhat deceitfully. It was a pity that the general would be forced to take the blame for all of this, but there was really nothing else for it. Nobody knew about the Siren, and it was for the best if it stayed that way; and even if there was some effort to put the truth about, who would believe it? A magical creature from another world, twisting the mind of General Blackthorn? It would seem like the most amateurish attempt to absolve him of responsibility. "But, if elements of his own military have mutinied against him to start this conflict, why hasn't he let you know? It would be an unfortunate moment to try and save face."

"He could have been taken prisoner, if the mutiny is widespread enough," Councillor Emerald suggested.

"Perhaps," Ozpin allowed. "Yes, there is that hope, I suppose." He paused. "General Ironwood is a sensible man, for the most part; a pragmatic man, and a man who, most importantly, does not desire a new war between kingdoms. And I believe that there is an Atlesian Councillor aboard the Amity Arena who is also a very amiable woman. I do not think they will lead the charge to make war on Vale. These are not the tortoises of old Mistral, and we are not the hares that Vale was then."

"I hope you're right about that, Ozpin, for the sake of this whole kingdom," Councillor Emerald said. A sigh escaped his lips. "I got into politics because I wanted to make this kingdom a better place. I wanted to reform social care, ensure that crimes were promptly dealt with by the police, repair the crumbling fabric of the state, not this. I never imagined anything like this."

"I'm not sure anyone does, First Councillor," Ozpin said softly.

Councillor Emerald twitched his nose. "Thank you for answering, Ozpin; it is especially appreciated for the contrast with certain other people."

"Think nothing of it, Councillor," Ozpin said. "Like you, I am … feeling my impotence at the moment."

Emerald snorted. "You mean that Ironwood is fighting the grimm up there, and you can't do anything but watch from down here?"

"Precisely, Councillor."

"Well," Councillor Emerald said, "if you are looking for some way to be of use—"

"You want me to send my students into the city to battle these insurgent forces there," Ozpin finished for him.

"I can't raise the police," Councillor Emerald reminded him. "I can only hear them struggling from outside Lisa's studio. Even if I could get hold of the Defence Force, I'm not sure whose side they'd be on. You're the only person with a body of men who I can reach and rely on."

"Not so large a body, at present, I'm afraid," Ozpin said. "A lot of my students — including most of my very best — are up on the Amity Arena for the finals, and until the battle in the air is done, they're stuck there."

"You must have someone," Councillor Emerald insisted. "Don't tell me that you've taken my call just to inform me that you intend to do nothing."

Ozpin was silent for a moment. The finals had left Beacon somewhat denuded, not only of Beacon students — including, as he had told the Councillor, some of his best teams like SAPR, YRBN, WWSR, and CFVY — but also of students from the other academies as well, and yet, 'denuded' did not mean 'empty.' Not all of the students had gone up to the arena to watch the finals; some of them remained at Beacon, and not just those like Miss Rose or James' team TTSS who could not be spared or trusted for such a request as the Councillor was making. To send those who remained, those who volunteered to go, would leave Beacon vulnerable, but Beacon was not under attack — yet.

Yet, indeed. The attack might come. It hardly seemed possible that it would not come, with so many grimm sitting outside of Vale, waiting. And yet, while the attack did not come, could he afford to just wait for it? Could he ignore the fact that Vale was in danger now because Beacon might be in danger in the future?

Could he ignore the fact that Beacon might be endangered soon because Vale was in danger now?

No. No, to both.

"I will send you all the assistance I can, First Councillor," Ozpin said. He did not promise any actual numbers, and that 'I can' would enable him to retain at least some defence for Beacon itself. "And when the students begin to return from the Colosseum, I will send more."

If Councillor Emerald noticed the caveats there, he was too relieved at the prospect of any assistance to make an issue of them. His whole body sagged in relief. "Thank you, Ozpin. I'll leave you to arrange the tactical details. In fact, I should probably let you get on with that. Goodbye, Ozpin, and good luck."

He hung up before Ozpin could say anything else.

"I'm not the one who needs the luck, Councillor," he whispered to himself.

Or perhaps to his companions of the mind sharing the office with him.

"You see?" Summer said. "It doesn't have to mean a war."

"Yes, indeed, the Councillor speaks comfort to me," Ozpin agreed. "He has turned out rather well, in the end."

"If he is still Councillor when all of this is over," Raven muttered.

That was an unfortunate point. Democracy was a fickle thing, so fickle that he sometimes wondered why anyone had thought it was a good idea. A few ill-chosen words, a video taken out of context, a storm in a teacup brewed by the press could bring down a government, to say nothing of legitimate disasters. Councillor Emerald could well be turned out of office for tonight's events, just as his predecessor had been by the Breach.

But that was a concern for tomorrow. For tonight, Ozpin called Glynda.

She answered him with alacrity, her face appearing projected above his desk. "Professor? Have you heard from James?"

"No, I imagine that he's a little busy at the moment," Ozpin replied. "But I did hear from Councillor Emerald, and this battle in the skies is not the only worry with which we must contend. I need you to halt the evacuation of people from the school down to Vale. Vale is not safe at the moment, as you will get some inkling of if you look down at it."

Glynda turned away from him for a moment. "Looks like a power outage," she observed.

"A deliberate one," Ozpin told her.

Glynda scowled. "Another part of the plan."

"Indeed," Ozpin said.

"What do I tell the people waiting to leave?"

"Tell them the truth, that it is currently safer for them to stay here than to return to Vale," Ozpin replied. "Apparently, it's all over the news; they'll be able to discover what's going on if they aren't already aware. Then I want you to gather every student willing to go and fight in Vale and lead half of them down into the city to assist the police in defending or retaking key infrastructure locations from these grimm cultists."

"Half the willing students, Professor?"

"I don't want to leave Beacon undefended," Ozpin said. "And I believe the students who volunteer to go will be the bravest, if not the best students; I am not entirely willing to entrust the safety of the school to those who are not willing to go and fight."

Glynda almost smiled, and perhaps would have actually smiled in less grim circumstances. "I've already had some students approach me asking if there's something they can do to help. I'll start there."

Ozpin didn't remind her to leave Miss Rose and Team TTSS behind; he knew that he didn't have to. "Thank you, Glynda," he said. "I know that I can count on you; and so can Vale."

"I hope so, Professor," Glynda replied. "I'll start at once."

Then she, too, hung up.

"Of course you turn to the children," Raven said, with a sneer in her voice. "Of course your answer is to throw them into the fire before their time."

"This is what they've trained for," Ozpin said softly.

"Would it matter if they hadn't?" Amber asked, appearing in front of his desk, a little closer to Raven than to Summer. Her scars seemed more pronounced upon her face than they were in life, although that might simply have been the fact that she had been using makeup to make her scars less visible lately. "Would it matter to you if they hadn't trained, hadn't chosen? Or would you use them all up just the same?"

"I will not force anyone to fight who does not wish to fight," Ozpin insisted.

"No, you just let the brave leap feet-first into the unknown," Raven said.

"Nothing they can't handle," insisted Summer. "It's like you said, Professor, just like you said: this is what they've trained for, so believe in that training — and believe in them.”

Ozpin did believe. He wished to believe. He wished to believe very much indeed. But he was afraid — he was very much afraid — that when this battle was done, he would be left with yet more things for his conscience to torment him over.

Yang's eyes widened as she watched the flanks of both the Valish and Atlesian ships erupt into flames.

The Valish ship exploded first, the mouths of its cannons belching forth fire, then the Atlesian ship, exploding in a different way, its side burning as the shells slammed into its body, pushing it sideways, tearing through hull and armour, setting fires that burned like beacons in the dark sky.

She couldn't believe it. For a moment, she thought that she must be seeing things, or that this was all some kind of very weird and hitherto very realistic seeming dream and that she'd wake up to Nora saying 'Come on, Yang, it's time for you to kick some ass in the Vytal finals!'

But no. No, it wasn't a dream. What she was seeing, what she had just seen, had really happened. The Valish ship had fired on the Atlesians, and now, their airships were streaking off to engage the Atlesian fighters that had been keeping the grimm at bay from the Amity Arena.

"What … what just happened?" Nora asked.

"Nothing good," muttered Ren.

"Yeah, but why?" Nora demanded. "Why would they do something like that? Did the Atlesians do something to them?"

"Like what?" asked Ren. "We didn't see them do anything except try and protect this arena."

It's not something the Atlesians did, Yang thought. It's like Pyrrha said; like Pyrrha said that Cinder had told her: the Valish Defence Force has been taken over by one of those things, those things from Sunset's home, the Siren.

And now, she's … have I just seen the first shots of a new war?

"What are we going to do?" asked Nora.

"We're going to continue to protect the arena, obviously," Ren declared. "With the Atlesians … distracted, there's a greater chance that grimm could make it onto the Colosseum."

"Okay, but what are the Atlesians going to do?" Nora cried. "Are we at war now?"

"No!" Yang said firmly. "No, we're not at war, and the Atlesians aren't going to do anything to us; just … let's all just calm down, okay? I know that this is a big shock, and I'm not thrilled myself at having front-row seats to … whatever this is."

She gestured out, to where the burning Atlesian cruiser illuminated the sky; it was so close. Both ships were so close. There were times when the Atlesian cruisers had seemed like toys, toy ships that could move and shoot — so very expensive toys, then, the kind that Yang or Ruby would never have gotten, not even courtesy of Uncle Qrow's shady friends — and fly through the air. These two ships, the Atlesian ship that had been hit and the Valish ship that had hit it, looked even bigger than that. They looked so close that Yang could reach out and touch them, too big for her to put her hands around.

A pity. If she had been able to grab them, she could have shaken them until they came to their senses.

"I don't know what's going on out there," Yang went on, "but I know that nobody is stupid enough to let it affect what's going on in here. That being said," — she got out her scroll, grateful for the fact that she didn't have to bother dialling or anything like that; all she had to do was yell — "Rainbow Dash, we need you down here now!" Her voice erupted out of the intercom, her volume causing a metallic echo and a screech of the speakers.

There was a moment's pause, and then a rainbow streak flashed down the promenade before resolving into Rainbow Dash, shotgun in hand. Neon Katt was only a second behind her, and Yang could see the rest of Rainbow's reserve coming up behind, with Team WWSR leading the way, gliding along atop Weiss' white glyphs.

"Yang," Rainbow said. "What's— what in the frozen tundra happened to our ship?"

"Looks like someone shot at it," Neon said. "And it doesn't take Shadow Spade to work out who."

"Neon, that—"

"That's what happened," Yang murmured.

Looking at Rainbow's eyes widen, Yang imagined that that was what her own face must have looked like not too long ago. She looked from Yang to the burning ship and back again. "The … the Valish?" she asked.

Yang nodded silently.

Neon folded her arms. "That was kind of obvious, but … why?"

Team WWSR caught up with them, as did Reese Chloris of Team ABRN with her hoverboard.

"What happened to your ship?" demanded Russel.

"A griffon shot it," said Neon.

"Griffons can shoot?" Russel cried, aghast. "Like fireballs or something?"

"No! It wasn't a griffon; it was the Valish ship over there, obviously!" Neon shouted.

"Neon! Not the time, not helping" Rainbow snapped.

"There's no way the Valish Defence Force would—" began Cardin.

He was interrupted when Blake, Arslan Altan, and, um, Rainbow and Blake's friend with the purple hair, what was her name, Rarity, caught up with the growing gathering.

Blake began, "What happened to that—?"

"Why don't we wait until the last of the stragglers catch up, okay?" Rainbow suggested, raising one hand. "We only want to go through this so many times."

Fortunately, it didn't take that long for the rest of Team ABRN, the rest of Team FNKI, and the whole of Team UMBR to join them. They all seemed pretty shocked by the sight of the burning Valish airship, although for obvious reasons, the Atlas students seemed the most shocked to see it. Flynt Coal took off his sunglasses as though they might have been deceiving him.

"The Val—" Rainbow started, and then stopped herself.

"The Valish did this?" Flynt exclaimed.

"Yeah," Yang said, loudly enough to be heard but in a voice that was softened by distress. "Yeah, we saw it happen right in front of us."

"No, no, you did not see that," Rainbow said.

"Yes, we did," Yang replied.

"No, you saw one Valish ship fire on an Atlesian ship; you did not see 'the Valish' fire at us," Rainbow insisted. "We're not going to talk about 'the Valish,' and we're not going to blame 'the Valish,' because the moment we start blaming 'the Valish,' then we have to blame Yang and…" — she looked as though she was about to gesture at Ren and Nora before realising that they weren't actually Valish. She gestured at Cardin instead — "Cardin and Russel, and we're not gonna do that. We're not gonna play us versus them, and we're certainly not gonna do it when we're all stuck up here with nowhere to go and no one to rely on but one another. Whatever's happening out there, we're gonna do our jobs, and I don't want to hear any 'but how do we know we can trust them?' crap out of anyone, understood? We're all in this together, understood?"

There was no response.

"I said, UNDERSTOOD?" Rainbow bellowed, in a voice that was as loud as the intercom and maybe louder.

"Perfectly," Weiss said calmly, as she rubbed her ear with one hand. "Did you have to be quite so loud?"

"You should have answered me sooner," Rainbow muttered.

"It's fine by me," Yang said.

"Do you really think it's that easy?" Cardin demanded.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "Explain to me how you think it's hard."

The Atlesian ship began to return fire on the Valish vessel, unloading missiles and shells too — Yang hadn't known they still had guns on those ships, huh — into the Valish hull. They didn't seem to be doing much, just bursting off the armour with a lot of fiery explosions that left the Valish ship scorched but unharmed, but Yang guessed the Atlesian crew knew what they were doing.

The Valish didn't fire again; their guns must have taken their sweet time to reload for another volley.

Rainbow didn't look back. She didn't turn around. She didn't move as the flames blossomed behind her. She kept her eyes fixed on Cardin.

"You can't say that this doesn't affect us," Cardin declared. "If our kingdoms are at war—"

"We're not at war," Rainbow said.

"Our ships are shooting at one another!" exclaimed Cardin. "Are you going to stand there and say that that doesn't mean anything?"

"I don't know what it means," Rainbow said. "You can run along and ask the Atlesian Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza, and she'll tell you that she doesn't know what it means either; what I do know is that, until somebody in authority tells me that we're at war, we're not at war. As far as I'm concerned, this is just something very unfortunate for the politicians to sort out tomorrow."

"Ships don't just fire on one another by accident," Cardin replied. "This is happening for a reason."

"Maybe it is, but what do you want?" Rainbow demanded. "Do you want to fight? Do you want to go at it right here, right now? Do you want to take a swing at Weiss?"

Cardin started. He looked down at Weiss guiltily. "I … of course I don't—"

"Come on, big guy," Russel said, putting a hand on his arm. "I don't wanna start a fight over this right now; haven't we got enough problems?"

Cardin didn't reply. He looked down at his feet, and his arms began to sag downwards.

"We can be enemies tomorrow, if our governments want it that way," Rainbow said quietly. "We can fight then, if that's what they want. But until then, let's just fight the grimm, okay?"

Cardin's arms fell down by his sides. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that makes sense. Yeah that … it's just—"

"You don't have to explain," Rainbow said. "I—"

The Valish ship, which had turned to present its bow towards the Atlesians even as the Atlesians were doing the same, fired its bow mounted cannons. Two of them missed — and flew straight for the Amity Arena.

"Incoming!" Yang yelled.

She grabbed hold of Nora as she threw herself backwards; she was prepared for the explosion, ready to be picked up by the blast, to feel the flames ripping at her aura, to be pummelled by the debris. Only … she didn't feel any of it. Not a bit of it. She heard the explosion, she heard the sound of part of the arena being torn apart, she heard people cry out, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything at all except for the way that she hit the ground with Nora.

Yang had closed her eyes. Now, she opened them to see that the entire of the archway that led out onto the docking pad was covered by a wall of beautiful blue diamonds, or at least, flat diamond-shaped … shields or barriers or constructs, whatever you wanted to call them.

Rainbow's friend Rarity knelt before the barrier, arms up, panting heavily.

As she got up, Yang could see that there were cracks in the diamonds, and in places, chinks of them had fallen away, letting in the light of the burning ship from outside.

"If…" Rarity gasped. "If it's all the same to you, darling, I … I'd rather not have to repeat that. I'm not sure I have the aura for it."

Rainbow put one hand on Rarity's shoulder, but before she could say anything, they all heard Lucius Andronicus calling for help.

"Help!" he shouted. "We need help over here!"

Yang turned that way, at first thinking it might be a quiet grimm that had foregone the usual shrieking and wailing, but no, it wasn't the grimm; it was the other shell fired by the Valish ship. Only one of them must have hit Rarity's barrier; the other had struck the other docking pad, Team BALL's docking pad, where they had had no Rarity to raise a shield for them.

That was what Yang had heard, the explosion, the shouting, the destruction; that other docking pad, the arch, that section of the promenade beyond the arch it was all ruins and rubble now, the arch collapsed, the docking pad gone or else turned into the detritus that littered the promenade, with smoke rising up out of it.

Yang could see people — mercifully few people, but still — lying under the rubble and others staggering uneasily through the smoke, swaying back and forth.

Yang started to run that way, but Rainbow and Neon got there first with their semblances.

“Neon, grab that other end,” Rainbow said as she knelt down at one end of a metal beam that was lying … lying on top of Lavinia.

She was unconscious — at least, Yang certainly hoped that she was unconscious — and perfectly still, her body lying on some rubble even as the metal bar lay upon her. Her eyes were closed, and her honey-blonde hair lay splayed out around her head.

“Is … is she—?”

“We don’t know yet,” Rainbow said. “But when Neon and I lift this up, you drag her out.”

“Right,” Yang said and bent down over Lavinia’s head, preparing to grab her by the shoulders and pull her out.

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “Now one, two, three!”

Rainbow and Neon grunted as they lifted the metal detritus off of Lavinia.

Yang seized her by the arms and lifted her up so that her head wouldn't bump against any of the other rubble and debris as she dragged her out. She pulled her clear, and once she was past all of the wreckage and the destruction, she laid her out upon the cold surface of the promenade.

Rainbow's voice echoed through the intercom. "Bella, Jaune, get to docking pad ten; we need you!"

Yang left Lavinia lying there and went back to rejoin the others. Lavinia wasn't the only person who had been caught in the blast, nor even the only member of Team BALL. One of the ones that Yang and Nora hadn't fought, Yang couldn't remember his name, had been laid out too. Yang found herself thankful for that griffon from earlier — not something that she could ever have imagined herself thinking — for having driven any civilians still tempted to hang around the promenade away in fright. With no aura to protect them … that could have been nasty.

Instead, it was only the huntsmen who had been caught by the blast.

The other stricken member of Team BALL — Yang thought he might be their team leader, but that was of little help to her in remembering his name other than giving a clue that it started with 'B' — was half-buried under a mound of rubble; Yang could see half of his lithe, pretty-boy face, albeit covered in dust, she could see his arms, his upper torso and his white and purple tunic, also covered in dust, but everything below his waist was buried and hidden from view.

Yang got around behind him, and started to clear away the wreckage.

"Yang!" Ren cried. "Behind you!"

Yang turned just in time to see a giant nevermore lunging at her, head resting on the ruined remnants of the docking pad, beak snapping.

Yang made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp of shock and a roar of anger. She swung instinctively, swatting the nevermore on the beak with one hand, and her Ember Celica unloaded a shot into it. Not her best or her most practised punch, by any means, but it made the grimm jerk; it twitched away from the blow and gave Yang a second to collect herself.

Her next two punches were much better, a classic one-two straight into the nevermore's beak, punctuated by two more shots from her gauntlets. Yang grinned as the nevermore shrieked, twisting its head this way and that. The nevermore slid backwards, its bony beak and its head decorated with red stripes retreating out of range of Yang's fists — although not out of range of Ember Celica; Yang snapped off shots at the monster, throwing her fists out in its direction to send blasts flying from her golden gauntlets.

She wasn't sure if she was getting close to actually killing this thing, but she was certainly making it uncomfortable.

“Get back, Yang!” Nora called. “I can’t get a shot off with you standing right there.”

“I can’t move back; there’s someone unconscious right behind me,” Yang replied, still shooting.

She wasn’t the only one firing at the nevermore by now: Ren’s Stormflowers blazed in his hands, peppering the nevermore’s skull with bullets; Rainbow fired, pumped her shotgun, and then fired again; Arslan’s pink-haired teammate with the little rifle fired; and the green-haired girl had turned her hoverboard into a pair of pistols shooting bursts of energy.

The nevermore screeched and screamed and shrieked as it looked this way and that, but it did not die. It didn’t like the sensation of being shot at so much, but its armour was proof against all that they could dish out.

At least, its skull was, anyway.

“Weiss!” Yang and Rainbow Dash both called out to her at once.

The two of them kept on shooting as they looked at one another.

“I was going to ask her to catch me,” Yang said.

“I was going to ask her to trap the nevermore’s wings in glyphs so that it can’t get away,” Rainbow explained.

“You think it wants to get away?” Yang asked incredulously as the nevermore snapped its beak in their direction.

The nevermore let out one last shriek before it dropped off the platform and disappeared from sight.

Rainbow growled wordlessly, then shouted, “Blake, take command!” as she leapt off the platform, her wings expanding outwards to bear her even as she dived down, following the nevermore out of sight.

Yang went to the very rent and jagged edge of the battered, tattered, and ash-blackened platform, where the metal creaked and groaned beneath her weight, and leaned out. She couldn’t see either Rainbow or the grimm, although she could hear Rainbow Dash’s shotgun roaring and hear the grimm screaming in answer.

If I can’t see them, that means they must be—

The platform — it felt like the whole arena — shuddered as the nevermore’s head burst through the floor beak first, tearing through the deck, tossing the rubble and debris aside. If the nevermore had been an inch or two to the left, it would have swallowed Ren whole; as it was, he was knocked off his feet and scrambled backwards as the nevermore stuck even more of its head through the hole it had created.

Yang threw out her arms on either side of her, trembling on the ledge as the platform shook.

“Whack-a-grimm!” Nora yelled as she brought down her hammer on the nevermore’s skull; there was an explosion of pink that made the docking pad shake all the more, but aside from screaming, the nevermore didn’t seem hurt by it.

Nora roared wordlessly as she hit it again, to just as little effect.

“Nora, everyone, back off!” Blake cried. “Let it come further!”

“Let it come?” cried Nora. “But—”

The nevermore’s claws jammed upwards through the deck, digging into it, ripping through it as the nevermore tried to … either it was trying to tear the arena from under them, or it was trying to get up there with the rest of them.

Yang didn’t really have time to consider which it might be, because the platform on which she stood, already unsteadily connected to the rest of the arena, bent with a groan, and Yang found that her footing had become a ledge facing downwards.

She cried out wordlessly as she began to fall.

“Yang, catch!” Blake shouted, flinging out her hook at the end of its black ribbon.

Yang caught the hook in one hand, the sting as the sharp blade bit her aura as nothing compared to what the fall would have done. With her other hand, she reached for the unconscious member of Team BALL as they slid towards the edge.

A series of those blue diamonds appeared around them, building up like a cocoon to cushion the unconscious huntress from any further harm.

The nevermore roared as it pushed itself upwards, ripping through the floor — and exposing its unarmoured neck.

Flash slid forward, skating along a line of white glyphs straight towards the grimm, coming in beneath its head even as it bent towards him to jam his spear into the unprotected neck.

The nevermore screamed as it began to tear at the floor even more assiduously.

Blake hauled back on her ribbon, pulling Yang away from the ledge and through the air — towards the nevermore.

Yang grinned as she pulled back her free fist.

She hit the nevermore in the nape of its neck, below the skull and the armour that protected it, with everything she had. Her Ember Celica roared as her fist struck home.

The nevermore made a kind of choking sound, its head jerking, then lolling to one side.

Its beak was left hung open as it began to dissolve.

Yang set her feet back on a more solid patch of the floor and opened her mouth to say something—

The sound of an explosion behind her made her turn and see the Atlesian cruiser … 'obliterate the Valish ship' was the best way to say it; the Valish vessel exploded from the inside, and it was really just a burning frame of that outside that was left to fall away down to the ground below.

As she watched the blazing wreck fall away, Yang couldn’t help but be reminded of what Rainbow had said to Cardin, about them being enemies tomorrow. Was that really what was in their future?

This morning, she would have said it was ridiculous, but right now, watching that ship fall, she couldn’t say it wasn’t possible.

Team TTSS stood not far from the Beacon Academy docking pads, on the path that led back down to Beacon Academy. They were far from alone, there were a lot of other people here too, most of them tourists who had been first told that they should evacuate to Vale just in case, then told that actually, no, the evacuations were off because Vale wasn’t safe right now, and they should stay here, and … well, hey, the fairgrounds were still open! Who wants more cotton candy?!

Starlight didn’t blame anyone who was a little put out or disturbed by this. She was kind of put out and disturbed herself, and she knew things that these people didn’t.

Maybe she was a little put out and disturbed because she knew some things that those people didn’t.

Mind you, anyone who had the ability to raise their neck and look up had noticed enough to disturb them tonight: first, the grimm attack on the Amity Arena that had prompted the initial evacuation from Beacon — strictly as a precaution — and then the start of a fight between the Valish and the Atlesian forces around the same arena, which the Atlesians looked to be winning handily, judging by the way that that Valish had gone plummeting down past the cliffs not too long ago, but combine that with what was happening in Vale, and you had the makings of an ugly mood.

Vale was under attack; that was on the news. The Valish newscaster was reporting even while you could hear the shots being fired outside the studio — you couldn’t fault her courage; she’d have made a good huntress — meanwhile, Vale and Atlas had started shooting at one another in the skies, even while the grimm were still a present threat.

The news wasn’t reporting on why the Valish had opened fire on the Atlesian cruiser, but if you were a person, an ordinary Valish person say, who might be worried about their city, whose city had been growing more and more anti-Atlas recently and who could now look up and see an Atlesian cruiser absolutely eviscerate a Valish warship in no time at all, well … it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together, was it?

And when the leaders of the land failed to be honest with their people — as they weren’t being honest now; there was a lot they weren’t saying, and Starlight knew that because General Ironwood had shown her and Trixie just a piece of what he wasn’t saying to anyone else — then the people would come up with their own answers, however ugly those answers might be.

“Are you satisfied?” a woman demanded of them, advancing towards them with a scowl. “Are you happy with what you’ve done?”

“What do you mean?” Sunburst asked. “We haven’t done anything—”

“Atlas is doing this!” the woman yelled. She was middle-aged, with dirty blonde hair and amber eyes, wearing a Beacon Academy T-shirt. “Atlas attacked our ship—”

“Actually, I think that you’ll find that your lot fired first,” Tempest observed.

“Not helping,” Starlight hissed; it was not a thought that she liked, but considering what General Ironwood had told her, she couldn’t help but consider that the lack of help might have been the point of that little intervention.

They probably shouldn’t have come out here. They certainly shouldn’t have stayed out here. But when the announcement had gone around that Vale was under attack and Beacon’s Professor Goodwitch was leading volunteers down to assist the local law enforcement … probably, most likely, almost certainly a strict obedience to General Ironwood’s orders would have meant sitting tight in their room and continuing to keep an eye on Tempest, however difficult it would have been to explain that lack of activity to Sunburst. No doubt, Tempest was the reason why Professor Goodwitch had not selected Team TTSS as one of the teams that would accompany her down into Vale, and they had been left to linger by the docking pad and watch the Bullheads take off for the city — Professor Goodwitch must have been in the know about Tempest as much as they were. With hindsight, of course they weren’t going to allow someone whose loyalties were uncertain into a battle where they might turn traitor if it could be avoided. But, when the word had gone around, with Vale under attack and volunteers requested, it hadn’t seemed right to just ignore it.

They were Team TTSS, after all, the Raging Wave of Atlas, and they answered the call.

Only, sometimes the call didn’t want to answer them.

And so, here they were, farther from the school than from the docking pad, listening to a justifiably irate Valishwoman suggest that they or Atlas or both was behind all of this, while others began to turn an attentive ear towards her.

“How long have you been planning this?” the woman demanded. “What is it you want from us?”

“We don’t—” Trixie began, and then stopped. She glanced around, to the other tourists who also seemed to be regarding Team TTSS with a degree of hostility. She licked her lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Trixie declared grandiloquently, in her best stage voice that carried across the grounds. “One and all, you’ve truly been a wonderful audience, but I’m afraid that now is the time for the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie and her glamourrrrous assistants to take their leave! Until next time, adieu!”

Trixie dropped a smoke bomb at her feet; Starlight, who had suspected this was coming when Trixie had started to thank the crowd — thank them for what? — had already grabbed Tempest by the arm before the midnight blue smoke began to spread out. She dragged her possibly untrustworthy teammate behind her as she ran.

Trixie was running too, and Sunburst, their capes billowing out behind them as the entire of Team TTSS took to their heels before an angry woman could turn into an angry mob.

Trixie’s magic might not always work — something that Starlight could think but never say — but a well-placed smoke bomb would never let you down. And while it might seem inglorious to run away like this, it was better than picking a fight with someone who was accusing Atlas of deliberately picking a fight.

They ran down the path, towards the central courtyard and the school. Thankfully, nobody seemed too interested in pursuing them.

They began to slow down under the shadow of the fountain and the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the courtyard. There were still plenty of people around, but they didn’t seem as riled up by the presence of Team TTSS as they had been closer to the docking pad.

Sunburst leaned on his staff. “I wonder what got into them.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Starlight asked. “They’re afraid. I can’t even say that I blame them.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try and talk them down,” Tempest said. “And you can let go of my arm now. In truth, you never needed to hold onto it in the first place.”

Starlight didn’t reply to that. She looked at Tempest, wondering, if they had tried to talk the woman down, whether Tempest would have found any more ‘helpful’ comments to stir her right back up again.

Not that Tempest needed to be secretly a traitor in order to put her foot in her mouth; she just had that kind of abrasive personality.

Starlight let go of her arm and hoped that Tempest was only an ass and not a traitor.

Trixie fluffed out her cape with both hands, flicking it so that it rolled up and outwards before falling down straight behind her. “Trixie is not convinced that anyone there was in the mood to listen to reason.”

“It’s hard to blame them,” Sunburst said. “What do you think is happening up there? Do you think Twilight and the others are okay?”

“Rainbow Dash will look after them,” Starlight assured him. “And so will Blake.”

“Right,” Sunburst agreed, nodding. He frowned. “I wish we’d been allowed to go down with the others, instead of waiting up here with nothing to do but think … and worry.”

“We all wish that,” Starlight murmured. “We all wish that we were in Vale — or up on the arena with Twilight and Dash and Blake.”

She looked up, towards the floating Arena high up in the sky. The good news was that it looked — from this distance — as though the battle was turning decisively in Atlas’ favour. Surely, it couldn’t be long now until Rainbow and Blake and Twilight and all the rest of them were back down here, and then…

And then TTSS would still be grounded here at Beacon because Tempest couldn’t be trusted.

It was enough to make her want to just grab Tempest and shake the answers out of her.

But at least when everyone was down from the arena, that would be something that they didn’t have to worry about.

“But,” she went on, “someone has to hold the fort down here, just in case.”

“Exactly,” Trixie said, “and we of Team Tsunami can be trusted to hold down this vital position because of our universally recognised skill and talent! But, as there is nothing—”

She was interrupted by the screeching of a nevermore, flying low over Beacon. Flying very low, much lower than any of the grimm that had attacked Amity Arena; this nevermore was flying lower than the CCT tower, so low that its talons were scraping the roof of the dormitory that it flew over.

And it wasn’t as though it was coming in low to avoid the Atlesian airships and then heading upwards to join the battle around Amity; as this nevermore turned, it got lower, swooping down onto the fairgrounds to the north of Team TTSS’s position in the courtyard. Starlight heard people scream in shock as the nevermore dropped, and when it rose up into the air again, she could see that it had someone — they were too far away for her to even try and recognise them — writhing in their talons.

Another nevermore passed overhead, heading over the courtyard towards the docking pads.

And from the east, in the direction of the Emerald Forest and the cliffs that separated Beacon from that grimm-infested forest, Starlight could hear a growing sound, like the thunder of a storm that was far off but being blown in their direction by strong winds.

Except it wasn’t thunder; it was the roar of the grimm.

Starlight locked eyes with Trixie. Even if Tempest couldn’t be trusted, even if she was against them, even if she was a traitor to her team and Atlas and everything else, none of that mattered right now.

They had no choice.

“We’re going to intercept the grimm beyond the edge of the fairgrounds and prevent them from reaching the civilians,” Trixie declared. “Starlight, Tempest and I will be up front, Sunburst will provide support.” She brandished her wand in the air. “Team Tsunami: move out!”

Aspen could hear the shots coming out of the television. He hoped that the noise wouldn't keep Bramble up, but he couldn't turn it off; it was the only place he was getting any information from.

If you hadn't been able to hear the gunfire, you might never have realised that there was anything untoward going on outside Broadcasting House at all; the newsroom, the editing, even Lisa Lavender's hair and outfit were all polished as ever.

It was only the audible gunfire that gave the game away.

It was incredibly admirable, what they were doing, not only Lisa but her team as well; if they came out of this alive — if Ozpin's students came to their rescue — and if he somehow found himself back in control of Vale when this night was over, then he would have to see them suitably honoured for their work. Membership of the Legion of Honour, perhaps, in the New Year Honours list.

If they came out of it alive.

Come on, Ozpin, where are your students?

"We're getting reports of further blackouts, this time in the dockside area," Lisa Lavender declared, in a voice that was calm and controlled despite the circumstances. "We're seeing on social media that power has failed completely and that the problem is not located in individuals' fuse boxes. A reminder to all our viewers that although the police remain out of contact, the ambulance and fire services are responding to emergency calls and will do all they can to assist you should you require it." She paused. "We don't know where the blackouts will spread to next, and so we advise everyone to conserve battery on your scrolls, as it may be your only way of receiving updates or contacting the emergency services."

The arm of a producer — or possibly a production assistant — in a blue jacket intruded in from offscreen as they handed Lisa a note.

Lisa glanced down at it. Her eyes widened, and Aspen was filled with a sense of icy dread at the thought of what could possibly be happening now. More blackouts? The impending fall of Broadcasting House? Had their purchased Mistralian battleships joined the fighting to avenge the Terror, whose destruction had recently been confirmed and displayed on screen thanks to video taken by citizens up at Beacon? What was it now, what further misfortunes would pile upon the heads of Vale on this night that seemed full of misfortunes?

He could barely conceive that there might be some good news; there hadn't been much so far, although there was a spark of hope in him that perhaps Lisa was about to announce that Ozpin's students had arrived and were routing the insurgents outside the building before rolling on to get the power plants back under control.

Where are your students, Ozpin?

Lisa cleared her throat. "In breaking updates, we're now getting reports that Beacon Academy is under attack by grimm."

The spark of hope was extinguished in Aspen's breast, snuffed out by a darkness blacker than the grimm themselves. He felt his legs tremble beneath him. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to sink down into his chair. He wanted to pour himself a stiff whiskey, down the entire glass in one, and then pour himself another. Beacon under attack? Beacon now? There were grimm at Beacon? No wonder there was yet no sign of Ozpin's students; they were probably all tied up defending the school now.

Vale isn't safe, Amity Arena isn't safe, Beacon isn't safe; where can anyone go to escape the danger?

"We're getting reports of nevermores," Lisa went on, "and that terrestrial grimm appear to have scaled the cliffs to reach the school grounds. We're hearing from people present at Beacon for the final day of the Vytal Festival that small numbers of students are attempting to hold back the grimm away from the Vytal Fairgrounds and that people are taking refuge in the classrooms and dormitories."

Aspen bowed his head. There would be little chance of help from that quarter now. He looked at his scroll, tempted to contact Ozpin, but if the grimm really were attacking Beacon, then he would doubtless be too busy to speak to the First Councillor. And Ozpin, unlike General Blackthorn, had the excuse that he didn't have any pimply second lieutenants to take calls on his behalf.

Beacon under attack by grimm, Vale under attack by insurgents, and our defence forces preoccupied with fighting the Atlesians. A madness has taken hold of this city.

He resisted the strong desire for stronger drink; on the rare off-chance that he actually had the chance to do something, he wanted to be sober. It wouldn't do to wallow in this situation.

And yet, what was he doing but wallowing? Standing here, watching the news, mentally complaining that no one would talk to him. Well, if he couldn't get hold of the police on his scroll, then he would just have to go down there and find out what was going on personally, wouldn't he? Yes, yes, he would do that. He'd go even if he had to walk there, and then, once that was taken care of, he'd go to military headquarters and give Blackthorn a kick up the backside and stop the shooting at the Atlesians and hope that General Ironwood was amenable to stop shooting back.

Yes, yes, he would do that. It was the only thing that he could do, and he really couldn't justify not doing anything.

His jacket was sitting on the armchair, draped over the back. Aspen picked it up and quickly pulled it on. He was about to head out when Lisa Lavender's voice from the television arrested his progress.

"I have also," she said, her voice trembling now, "been informed that the unidentified forces attacking us here at Broadcasting House have breached the doors and are inside the building."

Aspen stopped; he found himself unable to look away. The sound of gunshots did sound a little louder now.

Lisa blinked. "I'm told that there is still fighting going on in the lobby, but it is quite possible that they will reach the elevators soon. My colleagues are attempting to barricade this and neighbouring studios, but I should warn you, viewers, that we may not be on the air for much longer. Nevertheless, for as long as possible, we will continue to supply you with updates on—"

She disappeared. The screen was consumed by a burst of static for a moment that left Aspen fearing the worst — had they broken through so quickly? Had the barricade failed already? Surely, the gunshots could not have been so close; they hadn't sounded so close, and nobody had sounded so panicked as they would have been with gunmen rampaging in the room — before a picture returned.

Except it wasn't Lisa Lavender now; it was General Blackthorn, standing in a dark room somewhere, lit by a spotlight shining down from above that underlit his face and left him looking rather sinister. The cold, almost contemptuous expression that he wore certainly wasn't helping matters in that regard.

"Citizens of Vale," he declared, his voice ringing out of the TV. "My name is General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force. These are dark times: our city is under attack by sinister forces without and within. Terrorists roam our streets, hostile enemies dominate our skies, and our elected Councillors, whom we should be able to trust to work for our best interests, have betrayed us! Councillor Emerald conspires with criminals and Atlesians to bring this kingdom to its knees! Well, I, for one, will not allow it! As of this moment, due to the unprecedented state of emergency, I am declaring martial law."

Martial law? Aspen thought. That … that was ridiculous. Blackthorn couldn't just declare martial law on his own initiative; it could only be approved on a preliminary basis by a vote of the Council, subject to a confirmatory vote by the Chamber of Deputies within seven days of the initial Council vote. Blackthorn could only be invited to assume such powers; he had no authority to take them on himself.

"A full curfew is in immediate effect," Blackthorn continued. "All citizens are instructed to return to their homes immediately. Anyone found not complying with this instruction will be shot on sight. As we speak, our troops are moving out to secure our streets and arrest certain subversive elements that I have deemed a danger to the integrity of our society. Trust us. Trust me. Vale will be made safe. The Atlesians will be defeated. Vale will rise again. Remain indoors. Everything will be fine."

Why does he sound so robotic all of a sudden? Aspen wondered. More importantly, perhaps I should head to him first, find out what in Remnant is going on.

He might not be happy to see me.

I don't care. He can't just do this of his own volition; I won't allow it.

Aspen heard the sound of footsteps marching down the hall.

He reflexively fastened one button of his jacket.

The door opened, and a tall, clean-shaven captain in the green fatigues of the Valish Defence Force strode in. He had a black beret on his head with a white cockade, and his sleeves rolled up to expose tanned lower arms. One hand hovered near the pistol at his hip.

"Mister Emerald," he said, "by order of General Blackthorn, you are hereby dismissed from office and placed under arrest. You will come with me."

"'By order of—'" Aspen spluttered. He was about to protest how ridiculous this was, what a waste of time when so many real crises were engulfing them, how Blackthorn had no authority to remove him from office. But, if he was going to be taken to Blackthorn, then he might as well get on with it rather than waste time himself blustering at the captain. "Where are you taking me? To see the general?"

"No," the captain said.

"Then I refuse," Aspen said. "And I demand to speak to General Blackthorn immediately."

The captain drew his pistol and levelled it at Aspen's head. "Mister Emerald," he said coldly, "you will come with me or you will be shot while resisting arrest, and your son—"

"My son has nothing to do with this!" Aspen snapped.

"Not if you come with me," the captain said, his expression devoid of feeling.

Aspen swallowed. What has happened to you, Blackthorn? Is this the kind of man you always were? Regardless, he couldn't let Bramble come to harm. "Very well," he said softly. "I'll come with you."

The captain lowered his pistol a little. "Very good," he said. "I have men waiting outside to—"

He was interrupted by the sound of gunfire from outside, gunfire and a lot of panicked shouting. Both started very suddenly, rising swiftly to a crescendo and then, almost immediately, beginning to slack off.

"Report!" the captain shouted, as the volume of fire began to die down. "Sergeant? Corporal? What's going on out there?"

There was no reply, only a volume of gunfire that wound down and down.

A scowl broke through the captain's impassive expression as he strode forward, grabbed Aspen by one arm, and began to drag him towards the door.

With his other hand, he aimed his pistol at Aspen's head.

He manhandled Aspen — who did not protest, for obvious reasons — out of the room and down the hallway, towards the open door of his official residence.

The sound of gunfire out there had died down completely.

"Sergeant," the captain called out as he approached the broken doorway. "Has the situation been—?"

The officer's pistol was wrenched out of his hand, flying through the air out the doorway and into the street beyond.

A bolt of green light soon flew the other way, through the doorway, hitting the officer square in the chest and blasting him backwards. He landed on the floor with a crash, skidded a couple of inches along the floor, and lay there, motionless.

A familiar-looking figure stepped through the doorway, wearing a black leather jacket which, unusually in their acquaintance, she had done up, which might — combined with the black motorcycle helmet with the smoky visor she was wearing that concealed her face — have confused Aspen as to who she was, if it wasn't for the fiery tail of red and yellow dangling between the legs of her blue jeans and the voluminous hair of those same flaming streaks spilling out of the helmet and down her back.

Miss Shimmer raised her visor. "Good evening, First Councillor," she said. "I hope I'm not too late."

Aspen looked down at the unconscious officer on the floor. "Good evening, Miss Shimmer," he said. "I think you may be in the nick of time."

Author's Note

The Atlesian counterattack on the Valish ship is inspired by a video I saw on X of a US Bradley in Ukrainian service engaging a Russian T-90. The Bradley is outgunned by the T-90, and it can't penetrate the Russian tank's armour, but it just keeps shooting and it does not let up, pounding and pounding away, and you can see the T-90's turret swinging wildly from side to side like there's a drunk at the controls, and the crew are so disoriented by the relentless fire that they drive into a tree, get stuck, and eventually abandon the tank. Apparently this is called 'buttoning'.

Ozpin talking to images of his former comrades as aspects of his psyche was something from the original that I wanted to keep, I've loved the trope since I saw it used in Peter Morgan's play The Audience with Queen Elizabeth talking to her younger selves (he reused the same idea in The Crown).

Stealth Sunset (New)

Stealth Sunset

Sunset looked up.

Beacon was as far off as honour from where she stood, perched on top of the Allbright Commission building, overlooking — partly, at least — Valish Military Headquarters, but she could still see the Emerald Tower; at least, she could now that it was starting to go dark, and the lights that gave the tower its name and its distinctive green glow were lit. They were, well, they were a beacon in the darkening sky, a sign that the school was still there, though Sunset wasn’t.

She was as far from Beacon as she was from … Ruby’s good graces, or Jaune’s, but she could see Beacon still, as the emerald lights came on.

She could see the Amity Arena too, if she looked that way. It was far off as well, as far away as Beacon, farther perhaps, if only by a little bit by virtue of its greater height. It was easier to see than Beacon in the day; while you might miss the top of a tall but comparatively narrow tower, there was no way that you could miss that great floating colosseum, but like the tower, it was illuminated as the darkness closed around it. And yet, there was still enough light — and moonlight — that Sunset could see not only the Amity Arena but also the Atlesian airships close by, and the Valish airship that was — Sunset thought, although her eyes might have been deceiving her into believing that a stationary vessel was moving slowly — trundling along in that direction.

And she could see something else too. She could see dark shapes flitting around the arena, much too far away to make out in any detail, but … dark shapes. Dark shapes, and green beams cutting through the sky.

Sunset stared. She stared although she couldn’t do anything, although she couldn’t see anything, although standing there on the roof of this building and just watching would neither give her more insight nor calm her fears, but nevertheless, she stared for a moment and then a moment more as her stomach knotted.

Is it the grimm? Has it started?

Are they attacking the Amity Arena?

Cinder hadn’t mentioned that part, she had only spoken generally of an attack on Vale, but Sunset supposed that the Amity Arena was in Vale, so … although there were no signs of a grimm attack anywhere else. No sirens had sounded, no grimm over Sunset’s own head, no sounds of massed gunfire coming from far off, just … silence. It was all quiet.

But she could see something around the Amity Colosseum, and she feared what it might be.

She clenched her left hand into a fist as she got out her scroll with her right. She checked the news, because that was all she could do at this point, so far from events, so far from influence, so far from any ability to act.

All she could do was look at her scroll and hope that it could tell her what was happening.

The grimm were attacking Amity. Pyrrha had just won the Vytal Tournament — oh! What news! What should-have-been wonderful news! What news that should have been a cause for joyous celebration! What news that had been rendered stale, flat, and unprofitable in Sunset’s sight by the fact that the grimm were attacking Amity Arena — when the grimm had suddenly attacked, a horde — no, be technical, a host of grimm; a horde was something different altogether — a host of flying grimm had risen up out of the Emerald Forest and assailed the arena. The Atlesians were trying to fight them off, but already…

Sunset swallowed. Already, some of them had entered the arena. They had been dealt with, but how many more might follow if the Atlesian defence did not hold?

Sunset wanted to howl in frustration. She wanted to howl at the broken moon like a dog, she wanted to scowl and growl and stamp her foot and tear at her fiery hair, this was so unfair! She threw her scroll down in frustration, letting it bounce across the roof to the edge of the building. So unfair!

Why did the grimm have to attack now? Why did they have to attack tonight, at this moment, in Pyrrha’s moment? In what should have been Pyrrha’s moment, anyway. This should have been her moment, her night, her victory, her glory, her chance. Her chance to … to celebrate, to be the Vytal Champion, to receive her mother’s heartfelt congratulations on having reached the pinnacle, to endure the acclaim of all Mistral, to be kissed by Jaune and congratulated by Penny and…

And hugged by Sunset. She ought to have been there. She ought to have been there for this. She ought to have been there to hug Pyrrha, to congratulate her … to fight off the grimm with her.

Amity Arena was under attack, her team, her friends were on Amity Arena, her team and her friends were under attack, and where, oh, where was Sunset?

Far off. Too far.

So unfair.

Sunset sank down to her knees, gloved hands upon her face, gradually moving upwards through her bangs and into her hair and pushing her ears backwards and down. She breathed in and out.

She breathed in again, more deeply this time.

I wonder, does Ciel feel better because she can pray? Does it feel wonderful to just take all your worries and offload them onto someone else’s shoulders with a few words? Does it void her out of all her troubles?

Probably not, but it must help a little bit, or why bother?

For myself … if I cannot find comfort, then I must find meaning.

Sunset rose to her feet and held out one hand; a green light enveloped the white glove as she summoned her scroll back into her hand — it didn’t look damaged, or at least, not severely — and snapped it shut.

She couldn’t help Pyrrha and the others up in Amity. She was too far away, and Amity too high in the air, and in any case, not everyone would want her help even if she was in a position to usefully offer it. At this point, Ruby would probably rather die than accept aid from Sunset. She couldn’t help them; she could only trust to their skill and to the capability of General Ironwood’s much-vaunted Atlesian pilots.

After all the boasting done on their behalf, Rainbow, I expect some results.

For herself … well … Sunset looked down upon the Military Headquarters. If she couldn’t help her friends, maybe she could at least help Vale.

Cinder had been right about the grimm attack — although … had she? The grimm weren’t attacking Vale, after all, only the Amity Arena. Sunset double-checked that quickly, though it meant opening her scroll back up again. Reports of a grimm attack on Amity, yes, Sunset could see that from here, if only vaguely. But nothing else. Nothing about the grimm attacking anywhere else in Vale, nothing about hordes throwing themselves against the Green Line. Now, admittedly, there hadn’t been any mention of the hordes beforehand, but a horde attacking was surely harder to ignore than a horde that was being quiescent and only exercising a vague menace by the mere fact of its presence.

And Sunset couldn’t hear the gunfire. Surely, if the grimm were attacking, then she would hear the cannons, the missiles, the explosions, the sheer mass of noise that would come from resisting the grimm; surely, she would see the Atlesian warships firing down into the grimm on the ground?

She didn’t. She could only see the grimm attacking the Amity Arena.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that Cinder was lying, as much as it would have been a relief to dismiss a lot more of what had come out of Cinder’s mouth last night — Celestia, had it only been last night? It felt like another year already — since, after all, whoever was running the show now could have changed their plans in the face of Cinder’s capture. And a full scale grimm assault might yet come, just not yet.

Which gave Sunset time, because if Cinder wasn’t lying, then there was a good chance there was a Siren down there, and Sunset needed to find her and deal with her if she could.

She had not dispelled the spell that she had cast earlier to muffle her hearing; she had decided that she wouldn’t use it until she was closer to the Siren; until then, she might appreciate the use of her ears — to, for example, hear people talking about a Siren. It was a risk; if the Siren got the drop on her, then she might use her powers on Sunset before Sunset could react, but it was a calculated risk, and one that Sunset hoped to mitigate by her other spell that rendered her beneath notice.

You couldn’t ambush someone you didn’t notice was there, after all.

Sunset checked that Soteria was tightly strapped across her back. She shrugged Sol Invictus off her shoulder, holding it by the barrel in her right hand.

If she could find the Siren quickly enough, then maybe … maybe … it would probably not be enough to stop the grimm attack, but she could perhaps stop the Valish? Perhaps. She would do something. She hoped it would do something.

She had to hope that, for it was all she could do.

Sunset walked to the edge of the room, looking down over the Military Headquarters. Her decision to go in was vindicated ever more by the preparations that she observed to deal with the grimm attack on the Amity Colosseum.

There were no preparations. To which you could perhaps say that there was that ship nearby, and that there was nothing that ground troops could do, and this, that, and the other thing, but the fact remained that there were grimm in the skies over Beacon, and hordes more grimm — and Sunset was using that word quite correctly in this instance — and nobody in the heart of the Valish Defence Forces seemed to be concerned. Nobody was mustering, nobody was rushing here or there to direct the defence, the only thing that anyone at all seemed to be prepared to defend was their own headquarters, with the barricades that they had set up and the tanks they had brought in, and a fat lot of good that was going to be to anyone at Amity or anywhere else. It was hard to be sure because of its sloth, but Sunset thought that the battleship bought from the Mistralians was heading this way too, not going to join the fighting around the arena but moving to park itself over Valish Headquarters.

If Sunset had been feeling charitable, she might have thought that the plan was to make the headquarters a place that people could flee to in the worst case scenario.

If she had been feeling less charitable, and hadn’t known better, she might have suspected self-interest at work on the part of General Blackthorn; he was making sure that he was protected first and foremost.

But Sunset did know better, and what she knew or suspected did not make her inclined to charity, so she believed — or feared, at least — that this was all in preparation for something nastier to come.

Or at the least, as a means of ensuring that nobody could get close enough to stop what was about to happen.

Nobody but a magical unicorn who could bypass all those defences and then move about without being noticed.

Wish me luck, everyone.

Sunset teleported.

It was a good thing that she’d already cast the spell to divert attention off her, because otherwise, her appearing in the middle of the courtyard with a loud crack and a flash of green light might have rather drawn attention to herself.

Thankfully, for all that she just appeared in the middle of the courtyard, that was not the case. Nobody seemed to bat an eye. The few people — a mixture of uniformed officers and civilians in suits — kept on moving as though she wasn’t there at all, though Sunset made sure to scramble out of their way before any of them walked into her.

Sunset felt very fortunate that this place had a courtyard so that she could see where she was teleporting.

She looked around her surroundings; the courtyard looked much the same as it had looked from above when she’d been studying it, but now that she was actually inside, she could see that it was surrounded on all four sides by colonnades, where flat and featureless concrete columns created shadowy areas before the actual building itself. Guards in green, with black berets and white cockades sticking out of their cap badges, stood in the shadows of the colonnade, but none of them marked Sunset.

There were four doors, glass doors, each one — judging by the woman in the grey suit that Sunset saw entering one of them — requiring an ID card to enter, which was held up to a scanner on the grey concrete wall.

It was fortunate for Sunset that the doors were glass; otherwise, she would have been forced to try and tailgate someone; as it was, she crept across the courtyard — yes, she was concealing herself with a magic spell, but that was no reason to make as much noise as a herd of elephants when she could try and be quiet instead — towards western door, chosen at random because, unfortunately, she had no real idea what the inside of this building was like. She stepped lightly past the guards, who didn’t notice; they remained standing before the concrete columns, their boxy Valish rifles at the ready for anyone who was less well-concealed than Sunset.

Sunset — after first making sure that there was no one coming up behind her, because this spell had its limits, and somebody physically colliding with her was one of them — pressed her face up against the glass of the door and looked inside. There was another guard inside and another glass door, set into a glass wall, with a scanning device that looked more sophisticated than just ‘hold up your ID badge or your scroll to get in’ mounted beside the door. It looked like a retinal scanner to her. Well, with another glass door — thank goodness for that particular aesthetic — that wouldn’t be much of a problem for her either, although she couldn’t see much of what lay beyond that second door.

Still, the fact that there was another layer of security meant that … well, it might mean that the whole building was this secure, or it might mean that this was the especially secure part of it.

Either way, she had to go in somewhere.

Sunset teleported twice, the first carrying her beyond the first door and into the antechamber and then past the second door and into … a corridor. A corridor leading somewhere, but Sunset didn’t know where.

Because she didn’t know where she was going.

Step one then: find a map, or some schematics, or something that would tell her where she was and where she needed to go. Once she had the layout of the place in her head, then she could have a guess at where she might find the Siren. Sunset believed that if the Siren was here, then she would be close to the centre of events, with General Blackthorn, where she could influence him to direct the battle to come. If she could find the heart of this building, then she could find the Siren.

If not … perhaps she could capture General Blackthorn and force him to tell her where the Siren was.

We’ll save that for a last resort, but I won’t dismiss the idea.

Sunset looked around. She was hoping for a map on the wall of this grey corridor, but there wasn’t one; the walls were bare, in the same way that the lights were dim; everything seemed to have been done to make this place seem as grim and forbidding as possible; it was like a horror game. She half expected a monster to walk around the corner.

There was a heavy thud, like the footsteps of something very large.

And then another, and then another, thudding steps coming from somewhere nearby, coming from the corridor that, Sunset could see even in this lack of light, intersected with her own.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Coming closer and closer, much too heavy sounding to be even the largest of men.

Sunset had no idea what it was; she didn’t really want to wait around and find out if it her spell would work on … whatever it was; she thought it might be a robot of some kind — some Starhead Industries robotic gorilla maybe — and she was reasonably certain that her spell would be completely ineffective against it.

So she would have to hide. She couldn’t go sideways — this was a one-way corridor — but there were doors ahead on either side of her. Sunset ran down the corridor; she was the only person who could hear her own feet squeaking and slapping on the tiles. She reached the first door — door 1WA according to the sign — and looked through the window to see that it was an office, with rows of desks set up with monitors, keyboards, mice, and not much else.

It would do, as the sound of whatever was making that noise got closer and closer.

Sunset threw open the door and hurled herself inside — she couldn’t teleport everywhere, not if she wanted to have some magic left to confront the Siren — crouching down by the wall, beneath the window, as she listened to the sound get closer.

“Who opened the door?”

“What are you asking me for? I’m sitting right here.”

“I know, but someone opened it.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

Sunset prodded the door closed with one foot.

“Huh. Maybe there’s something wrong with the hinge. I’ll raise a maintenance ticket.”

“That’ll be dealt with next month, then.”

“They fixed the leak in the ceiling the same day I reported it.”

“We’ll see.”

Sunset waited, listening. She could hear the thudding sound grow closer and grow closer … and then nothing. A momentary silence, broken only by the sound of fingers tapping upon keys here in this office.

Sunset wasn’t sure what it was out there, but she could imagine it — and it was a lot of things in her mind, including a grimm, however unlikely that might be — waiting, looking around.

Then she heard the thud again, and again, and this time, it was moving away from her, doing its rounds.

Watchdogs, of whatever kind. Something to bear in mind. I can’t assume that I have the absolute free run of this place just because of my magic.

Sunset rose to her feet. The office in which she stood was half-empty, or more than half actually. Maybe everyone was working from home? Maybe they’d all been sent home because their boss was planning to start a war.

But of the people who were still here — a mixture of men in shirts and ties and women in blouses and skirts or trouser suits — it was weird how calm they were. There were grimm attacking the Amity Arena, the Valish Defence Force might be about to start a fight with the Atlesian forces, there were hordes of grimm camped outside of Vale, and here these people were, just sitting at their desks, typing away like it was any other day.

They didn’t look scared or exhilarated; they were almost blank-faced, staring ahead of them, not looking at one another.

It was weird, and ever so slightly unsettling. Sunset was glad of the coffee cups that she could see on a couple of people’s desks; it showed that they were still somewhat alive.

“Do you think it’s started yet?”

“Soon. Those Atlesian scum will get what’s coming to them.”

Were you this charming before the Siren got her voice in your ears? Sunset wondered.

“I wish I could get out there and do my part.”

“We all have a part to play.”

“But I’d like to see their faces as we take back what’s ours.”

You’re not even likely to see the bullet that kills you, Sunset thought as she stalked around the room, wishing that she didn’t have to listen to all of this. She wouldn’t have to listen to it for very long, if luck was on her side, but just listening to it at all was making her ears ache. She would dearly like to know if these people were this stupid before they heard the Siren song or not; did they really think that they were going to win this fight? Did they think that this was going to end well for Vale? Didn’t they realise that they should be doing everything they could to stop this, not looking longingly forward to its beginning? Didn’t they have any sense at all?

No, because they’re under the malign influence of a magical creature.

Sunset moved around the edges of the room, heading towards the back of the room where there was one guy working on his own, with no one sitting on either side of him, and no one sitting behind him either.

Perfect.

Sunset crept up behind him and pointed her finger at the back of his neck like a gun. The burst of magic that leapt from her fingertip was exceedingly mild — she didn’t want to blow his head off, after all — but it was enough to make him jerk like a charge had just been run through his body, before he lolled forward.

Sunset grabbed him by the head before it could slam down into his keyboard so that his coworkers noticed, and pulled him back so that he was leaning against his chair, his head thrown back.

Sunset rolled the chair backwards and out of the way before she leaned Sol Invictus against the desk and bent down over the — open, importantly, and not password-protected — terminal.

She grabbed the mouse with one hand and ran it this way and that, looking for something that looked promising. She needed to find a map, a floor plan, something…

She noticed that on the top of the man’s ScheeSoft TeamWork app was a row of options: notebook, files, calendar … desk booking.

That might be no good, but it’s worth checking out, Sunset thought as she clicked on the icon.

She was confronted with a list of floors and different teams: Procurement, Human Resources, Data Governance, Third-Party Management, Non-Military Strategic Planning, Strategic Planning, Intelligence and Analysis. That one was in red, which Sunset thought indicated which team these bored-looking office drones were on. That would explain the security on the door to get into the corridor.

If she had a look around here, then maybe she could find the Valish battle plans.

No. She needed to focus on the Siren. That’s what she was here for. If she were to indulge her inner Rainbow Dash or Blake for a second, then there was no battle plan the Valish Defence Force could come up with that General Ironwood couldn’t defeat with the sheer power of the egotism and exceptionalism of his students, but perhaps only she could take on the Siren.

She turned her attention to the floors that were available — and, more importantly, those that were not. It seemed that this guy, whoever he was, had access to the floor below this one, but not to the ones further down; they were greyed out, unavailable. There were three floors underground, below floor minus one, and they were all above his proverbial paygrade — or his actual paygrade.

Her search was narrowing.

So everything important is underground, huh? That was somewhat counterintuitive to her — power should be high up, in the air, literally set above and apart from the common herd — but she supposed it made sense as a protection from air attack.

And if everything important is underground, then maybe the most important things are the furthest underground. Unfortunately, the desk booking system wasn’t a lot of help in working that out.

She typed ‘floor plan’ into the search bar. There were no results. Sunset scowled. She supposed that she could always just go down to those forbidden floors and take a look around until she found what she was looking for, but she’d rather not if she could avoid it.

She thought. There had to be some way of getting some confirmation.

She typed ‘General Blackthorn’ into the search bar.

The first result was a round-robin message sent today.

In view of the impending commencement of Operation Strikeback, all small arms lockers will be opened by the Master at Arms from 1600 hours today (October 18th). In the event of an Atlesian assault, all personnel are reminded that they have a responsibility to arm themselves and participate in the defence, regardless of whether they are military or civilian. We’re all Valish, and we all signed up to do our part to defend this kingdom. If there are no weapons available in the lockers, take a weapon from a dead Atlesian. If there are no dead Atlesians, improvise a weapon from whatever you can find and kill an Atlesian. No excuses for cowardice or malingering will be tolerated.

General Blackthorn expects that everyone will do their duty.

Vale will rise from the ashes!

Captain Jasmine Cahill, Royal Fusiliers

Aide de Camp to General Blackthorn

Sub Level 3

Sunset smiled. I think we might have a winner. Thank you, Captain Cahill.

Just to be sure, she typed ‘Sub Level 3’ into the search bar.

Apologies to all colleagues, but the dining hall on the ground floor is closed for the next two weeks for refurbishment. Alternative facilities can be found on Level 2 East, Level 1 North, Level 3 West, and Sub Level 1. Staff are reminded that Sub Levels 2 and 3, including the dining hall, are off limits to unauthorised personnel.

Yeah. Yeah, I definitely think we’ve got a winner there. Sub Level 3 it is.

Now I just need to get down there.

She still didn’t have a map, but once she made it down to the bottom floor, then hopefully, it would be a relatively simple matter of finding her way around.

There might even be signs.

Sunset left the man lolled in his chair and crept back to the door out of the room. She waited, listening for the heavy, thudding footsteps of whatever it was that she had heard before.

Nothing. Nothing but the tap, tap, tap of keys on the keyboard.

Sunset opened the door and slipped out.

“Seriously, what is up with that door?”

Sunset darted down the corridor, her equine ears pricked up for any sound, but she didn’t hear any heavy footsteps, nor did she see anything that looked capable of making them, only men and women, some soldiers, some not, and not very many of either of them.

There was an elevator at the end of the corridor, and very luckily for her, a soldier — an officer, judging by the pips on his shoulders — was going inside.

Sunset pelted down the corridor the last few steps, just managing to squeeze in after and alongside the man before the lift door closed behind him.

He pushed the button for Sub Level Two; Sunset wanted the floor after that, but she didn’t push that button; if this officer had his wits about him, then he might find it strange, the button for the next floor down just pushing itself. She would wait until he got out, and then she would go down the last floor on her own.

Assuming that nobody else got in while he was down there.

She shuffled to the back of the lift and kept silent, watching the officer as the lift began to descend.

Down into the bowels of Remnant.

Sunset supposed that they would be protected from bombs or missiles here; the Atlesians would have to root them out, descending down underground to fight the Valish — having first fought all of the people who had taken up arms for the glory of Vale, grabbing guns out of the open lockers or … what? Attacking the Atlesians with scissors and staplers if the Atlesians came?

Sunset would wonder what they were thinking, but she had a feeling that she could answer that: the Siren was thinking that the more bloodshed, the better.

After all, they did like to start fights.

The elevator reached Sub Level Two. Sunset held her breath a little, hoping that nobody would want to get in and go to a different floor.

The door opened. Sunset cursed mentally as she saw someone else waiting outside, another officer, with a crown on their shoulder instead of pips.

“Evening, Torrens,” he said jovially.

“Evening, sir,” Torrens said, not saluting for some reason; maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing a hat.

“Here to join the planning session?” the other officer asked. He chuckled. “I don’t think there’s much need for a ground plan. These northerners don’t have the stomach for a street fight, no.” He shook his head. “Too much time spent in the air with their head in the clouds, no guts, Torrens, no steel! They’re like bullies, Torrens; punch ‘em on the nose once, and they’ll show what they’re really made of.”

“Yes, sir,” Torrens said. “Excuse me, sir.”

The senior officer got out of the way, allowing Torrens to step out of the lift. Sunset couldn’t help but roll her eyes as the other man — heavyset, with piggy eyes hidden behind his round spectacles — got in.

Fortunately, he pushed the button for Sub Level Three.

Sunset gripped the barrel of Sol Invictus tightly with both hands as she felt a fluttering in her stomach. If she was right, then it would not be long now.

Not long until … she didn’t actually have a lot of solo combat experience. On her own, she had fought Adam twice — Twilight didn’t count in the first instance, and Blake had only shown up later. In neither instance had she done terribly well, although she had done better the second time around. Nevertheless, her record on her own, without any support, was not a brilliant one.

In fact, one might call it rather troubling.

And this was no ordinary opponent that she’d come up against.

No, but she isn’t Adam either. Not a warrior, not a huntress, not someone trained to fight and kill. A creature of magic, and I have magic of my own at my command.

I can do this. I don’t need Pyrrha or Blake or Rainbow Dash to help me, to back me up, I can do this.

I can take these soldiers, and then it’s just a question of magic.

And yet, the fluttering in her stomach persisted, no matter how tightly she gripped the barrel of her gun.

The elevator descended. It made more of a noise than the one at Beacon; it looked dirtier as well; Sunset wondered how well maintained it was.

She wondered if she should have taken the stairs.

The door opened. Sunset let the officer get out first, then followed him before the doors shut on her. The hallway into which she stepped looked even darker than the corridors upstairs, as though it was policy that the Headquarters should get darker, more foreboding, the further down into the ground one got. There were barely any lights on at all, and those that were on had dead flies in the casings, their mouldering bodies little dark shapes against the white lights, like the grimm that swooped and dived around the Amity Arena, as seen from Sunset’s distant vantage point.

She found herself a little glad that the lights were off; she didn’t want to see too much that reminded her of what her friends were going through out there.

And a good thing too, because most of the lights were off, and most of the corridors were dark, and Sunset came very close to needing her night vision spell.

As it was, she could just about see where she was going and avoid people — or follow them.

There were no signs, but most of the people that Sunset saw — they were all soldiers down here, all wearing the green VDF uniforms, not a single civilian to be seen — were heading in one direction, where they were not standing on guard. So Sunset followed them and hoped that they weren’t headed for the cafeteria.

They were not headed for the cafeteria. They were coming in and out of a command centre, an underground command centre where people stared at monitors and worked at computers and observed and … well, commanded.

General Blackthorn stood in the centre of things, issuing orders, watching monitors. And at his side stood a girl, or someone who looked like a girl, at any rate; Sunset guessed that she was far older than she looked, for she was almost certainly the Siren. She gave General Blackthorn his orders, this girl with the blue hair — a lighter blue, with deeper streaks running all through it — worn in that long ponytail, the girl with the purple shirt and the high boots and the spiked bracelets on her wrists. Either this was Take Your Daughter to Work Day, or else she was the Siren. She was the one that Sunset had come here for.

And behind her stood Cinder Fall.

Sunset stared at her. Cinder, here? Cinder was here, Cinder was … Cinder?

But she was taken—

Oh. Right. Of course.

On the one hand, she felt like an idiot for not seeing this sooner, but on the other hand, why? Cinder would never serve the Siren: Cinder felt usurped, Cinder felt betrayed, Cinder had given them information … hadn’t she? Yes, some of it had been false — the stuff about Amber — but if Cinder had been lying all along, waiting for her brainwashed friends in the Valish Defence Force to get her out of her jam, then why tell them about the Siren or that the Valish military had been corrupted? Why tell them anything at all?

Why, for that matter, launch a forlorn assault on Amber that had never stood much more than a fool’s chance of success? Why not simply wait and get on with her plan?

Cinder’s actions made no sense except from the perspective of, well, they didn’t make a huge amount of sense from any angle, but from the perspective of someone with a finely honed sense of the dramatic and a deep cultural and personal attachment to The Mistraliad, Sunset could see why they might choose to go out in a blaze of glory, making a doomed charge like the Mistralians charging down the hill to try and rescue Juturna. Or Pyrrha, charging in all her wrath to try and kill Juturna, no matter how many foes stood in her way.

But it only made any sense at all if Cinder had felt betrayed, if she had seen her whole world crumble around her, if she felt as though she had nothing left to lose.

Otherwise, why risk it? It wasn’t a trick to get her interrogated so that she could plant false intelligence; not only might she have actually died — if it had been Ruby closest to her instead of Pyrrha, then Cinder would be dead by now — but she had told them the truth about the Valish military! And the Siren! The proof was right there!

But if she had been speaking from the heart to Sunset and Pyrrha, if she felt ill-used and cast aside and in no mood to keep confidences, then…

Then the Siren has gotten to her.

That was … that was horrible. A horrible thought, a terrible thought, a dread thought; it was the only thought, the only thing that made sense, yet it was a thought and thing from which Sunset’s mind revolted. Cinder, brainwashed? Cinder, made a slave to the will of another? Cinder, not herself, Cinder a tool, Cinder a puppet, Cinder … Cinder no longer, just a dog to be ordered about: go thither, come hither, bite them. Kill them.

After what Cinder had been through, after what she had suffered at the hands of Phoebe, this would be the last thing that she would want to endure.

And Cinder … Cinder’s designs had been wicked sometimes, her victims often undeserving, her plans … worth preventing, and yet, she had, even while acting under Salem’s orders, nevertheless been herself. Gloriously, unabashedly, fearlessly herself. Though her cause be the worst cause for which anyone had ever fought for, nevertheless, Cinder had fought for it like a lion though four kingdoms and the power of Atlas stood against her. By her own will, she had done all that, however wrong or misguided it had been; by her own will, which had blazed like fire.

Now, that fire was tamed, that will subverted, suborned, bent to another’s will, and that … better Cinder had died last night, at Pyrrha’s hands, better to have cut her throat on the ground, better to have let Ruby slit her stem to stern with Crescent Rose, even that would have been preferable to see her like this, made a slave.

A slave against whom Sunset would have to fight, before she could come to grips with the Siren.

Now had Sunset cause for flutterings in the stomach. To fight Cinder? Alone? To fight Cinder without any of her friends with her, nothing but her own wits and her own power, against Cinder? Cinder and a Siren?

How was she going to do this? Could she do this?

I’ve come a long way to just go.

And Professor Ozpin asked me to take care of this. I promised that I would try. That I’d try, not that I’d run away because I’m scared of Cinder.

And, hey, maybe if Cinder kills me, then Ruby will think better of me and take back some of her harsh words.

If I am going to do this, I should probably start by muffling my ears.

But before she could — just before she could; the spell was on Sunset’s fingertips — Sunset’s ears pricked up as she heard the Siren begin to sniff the air.

She sniffed like a hound, standing on her tiptoes as though it were bringing her closer to the scent.

"What's wrong?" General Blackthorn asked her.

"I don't…" the Siren murmured in a high-pitched voice, not quite so high as Ruby’s voice, but higher than Sunset had expected nonetheless. She looked … in the direction of the corner around which Sunset lurked.

Sunset held breath. Could the Siren sense her? Could she pierce Sunset’s magic, could she notice her in spite of Sunset’s magic telling her to look away, to turn her attentions somewhere else? Was it Sunset’s very magic itself — Equestrian magic, nourishing to a Siren — that the Siren sensed. Had Sunset outed herself with her spell of concealment?

"Cinder," the Siren said, "will you be a sweetheart and go check that out for me?" She pointed down the corridor in Sunset’s direction. "I think there might be someone hiding down there, listening."

Sunset swallowed. It seemed that the choice of whether and how to begin this battle had been made for her.

She rose to her feet. Her left hand glowed with magic as Sunset gathered her power.

"At once, Mistress," Cinder said quietly.

Mistress. She makes you call her Mistress?

Cinder, I am so sorry.

Sunset was no longer looking around the corner; she was standing behind it, waiting. She could hear footsteps, light footsteps approaching, Cinder’s footsteps coming towards her.

Sunset would begin with a burst of magic at point black range, so close that Cinder couldn’t block it; then she would shoot her while she was on the ground, and then … then, she would try and keep Cinder at a distance, using telekinesis to guide both gun and sword while she sought to get at the Siren.

Assuming that Cinder could see her. It might be that the spell would work on Cinder, and only the Siren was aware of her.

Cinder rounded the corridor. In one hand, she bore a black sword, which managed to glisten even in the little light down here. It looked hungry, like a shark or a wolf that had not fed.

Around Cinder’s neck, she wore an atrocious collar, her black choker in its elegant simplicity gone and replaced by a chunky collar, with beastly brutish spikes and a padlock on the front of all things, sweet Celestia! To see Cinder reduced to such a state … Sunset wished that she could spare more regret for Cinder, that her own situation would allow her the regret to spare.

As things stood, she was a little more concerned with the fact that Cinder was staring right at her.

Sunset felt seen. She would bet anything, anything that she owned in the world, even Soteria or her magic book, anything that Cinder could see her; she felt seen.

Yet, Cinder said nothing. Did nothing. She just stared at her.

“Cinder?” Sunset whispered.

Cinder’s lips twisted in a scowl.

“Cinder?” Sunset repeated. “Can you hear me in there?”

Cinder stared at her, lips scowling, teeth almost bared, looking at Sunset as though she, Cinder, were the lion and Sunset were the lamb, as though she wanted to rip out Sunset’s throat.

She twitched her eye in Sunset’s direction. Or rather … was that a wink? Was she winking at Sunset?

"Cinder?" the Siren called.

Cinder turned away from Sunset to look at she who held her captive. "There is nothing here, Mistress. Nothing and no one."

"Okay, I don't know where that came from then," the Siren muttered.

Sunset breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered, for this was proof that Cinder’s will was not wholly overthrown, that there was some part of her that was yet Cinder; now, if only Sunset could persuade her to—

"You know,” the Siren said, “Councillor Emerald has been squawking at you once already; you might want to send someone over to shut him up before he causes any problems."

Sunset’s breath caught in her throat. Councillor Emerald? Shut up Councillor Emerald? They were going to—

"Of course," Blackthorn said. "I'll have him taken care of."

No. No, no, no, no, no! Yes, Sunset had promised that she would take care of the Siren, and she would! She would come back here, and she would deal with her and with Cinder if she had to — if she could not save Cinder, that was. But Sunset was, or wished to be, a saver rather than a destroyer. She was more comfortable saving than destroying, and while there was something to be said for stepping out of your comfort zone, there was also a great deal to be said for saving people’s lives.

Especially when that life happened to belong to the First Councillor of Vale. And a father too. Father to a son who had already lost his mother, poor mite.

And he was just about to get things moving with Former Councillor Aris to boot. No, no, Sunset could not let Councillor Emerald die.

Certainly, she wasn’t going to hang around here and pick a fight with Cinder and the Siren while the Councillor was in danger.

“I will come back for you,” Sunset said to Cinder. “I promise.”

Cinder didn’t reply. Sunset supposed that she couldn’t reply, not with the Siren so close, and in any case, she didn’t have time to wait for a response. She turned away and ran.

She ran back the way that she had come; she ran for the elevator, pounding at the button with one hand before she decided to take a risk and teleport somewhere that she couldn’t see: up to the office where she had been before, where she had knocked that one guy out and left everyone wondering about the door.

The guy was still out cold. No one had noticed. They were still working away, and would probably still be working away until the moment came to take up arms from the small arms lockers.

Sunset teleported twice more, once past the first door, once past the second and into the courtyard, and finally back up onto the roof of the Allbright Commission where she’d started from.

She felt … better now, strangely. She knew what she had to do: protect someone, save someone. Save Councillor Emerald for his son, for the woman who cared about him, for Vale which needed a leader now more than ever.

So much easier than hunting a monster to destroy them.

Sunset looked towards the Amity Colosseum once more, to where the Valish ship was taking fire from an Atlesian cruiser.

It’s started then.

Besides that, she could still see the grimm flocking around the arena, locked in battle with the Atlesian pilots.

Be safe, everyone.

Sunset descended via the fire escape, her boots clattering on the metal steps as she took them two at a time, three at a time, leaping some sections to drop onto the landings with heavy bangs; she ran and ran down the length of the building, teleporting short distances, trying to balance haste with preserving the magic that she would surely have need of.

Her bike was waiting for her at the bottom of the fire escape. Sunset pulled on her helmet, dropping the visor down over her face, and slung Sol Invictus over her shoulder as she leapt onto her trusty motorcycle and revved it up.

Within moments, she was speeding down the road.

The streets were clear, for obvious reasons; everyone had been watching the Vytal Tournament, and while in ordinary circumstances, Sunset guessed that a lot of people would have spilled out into the streets to celebrate and join the general revelry by now, the fact that immediately after the tournament was over, the grimm had started to attack was — Sunset guessed, and thought her guess borne out by the silence of the streets — keeping people indoors. Even the pubs she passed were silent, with only light spilling out of them and little sound. Sunset could picture people in her mind’s eye, huddled around the television sets, watching the news, wondering what it might mean, consumed with fear.

How the grimm beyond the walls must be salivating with anticipation.

But the streets were clear, meaning that Sunset’s path was unobstructed. She had come this way before, after a certain point; she knew where she was going. She’d been here before, after all.

She reached the street of the First Councillor’s residence. There was a green truck parked out there, and for a moment, Sunset was afraid that she was already too late. But no, as she came up, she could see one man — their officer, she thought — unlocking the door, while the rest of his soldiers dismounted from the back of the truck.

Sunset skidded to a halt, throwing one foot out to slow the movement of her bike as she twisted it around. The tires screeched on the tarmac.

Sunset dropped her spell. Everyone could notice her now.

And notice her they did as she hit their sergeant with a bolt of magic that lifted him up and hurled him twelve feet backwards down the street.

Some of the soldiers shouted in alarm, and most of them started shooting at her, or tried to, but magic leapt from Sunset’s fingertips, beams of magic flying out in all directions even as she — indulging, a little bit, but they were shooting at her — teleported from spot to spot — six feet in this direction, eight feet in that one, onto the top of their truck — to throw their aims off. She used telekinesis to wrench the guns out of their hands and throw them aside.

And green beams of magic leapt from her fingertips to strike the soldiers down, leaving them sprawled out across the street, completely out of it.

Sunset leapt down off the roof of the truck as she heard someone from inside — the officer, she could only suppose — calling out to his men, demanding to know what was going on.

Before Sunset could go in, the officer came out, or at least came out far enough that Sunset could see him.

He had a gun, but Sunset tore it from his hand with a touch of her telekinesis.

Then she put him down with a bolt of magic.

Councillor Emerald stared at her as she stepped through the open doorway.

Sunset raised her visor. "Good evening, First Councillor," she said. "I hope I'm not too late."

Councillor Emerald looked down at the unconscious officer on the floor. "Good evening, Miss Shimmer," he said. "I think you may be in the nick of time."

Sunset ventured a smile as she took off her helmet. “I’m glad to hear it, First Councillor. I wouldn’t have refused being earlier, but … I’m glad to find you well. And your son?”

“Bramble is upstairs, asleep I hope,” Councillor Emerald said softly. “So long as the gunfire didn’t wake him. There were soldiers outside, I take it?”

“There still are, just not in any state to trouble anyone,” Sunset replied.

“I see,” Councillor Emerald said softly. He paused for a moment. “How did you know? To come here, I mean?”

“I…” Sunset hesitated for a moment, “I have been in Valish Headquarters, Councillor. I overheard them talking about … shutting you up.”

“God of Animals,” Councillor Emerald muttered, putting up one hand as he leaned against the wall. “So it’s true. Blackthorn did order this.”

“It’s—” Sunset stopped, aware that simply saying that it wasn’t his fault would likely cut little ice. “Councillor, what I’m about to tell you may seem unbelievable, but it’s the truth: General Blackthorn’s mind has been overthrown by a magical creature that thrives on conflict; she is directing him to fight against the Atlesians; he wouldn’t be doing this if he were in his right mind.”

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. “A magical creature?”

“Called a Siren, yes.”

Councillor Emerald stared at her. “Now, why would you think that I wouldn’t believe that, Miss Shimmer?”

“I know what it sounds like,” Sunset declared, “but you’ve known General Blackthorn for some time, haven't you? Is this the behaviour that you would expect from him?”

“No,” Councillor Emerald replied. “No, it isn’t.” He frowned. “You say that you were at Military Headquarters?”

“Yes, Councillor.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking for the Siren, Councillor,” Sunset said softly.

“And did you find her?”

“I … thought it was better to come here and save you, Councillor,” Sunset said, even more quietly.

“And if you hadn’t?” Councillor Emerald asked, equally quietly. “Could you have stopped this?”

“Councillor, it’s one thing to say that I should have chosen to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many,” Sunset replied. “It’s another thing to say that I should sacrifice the few or the many or the one to destroy one of my enemies. That … I won’t apologise for the choice I made. Vale needs you, so does Bramble, and Former Councillor Aris … wants you, at least. I made my choice, and I stand by it.”

Councillor Emerald hesitated for a second, and then nodded. “That is fair enough, Miss Shimmer. And I can’t say that I’m not grateful. But now I’m afraid that I must ask you to accompany me back to the Military Headquarters. Magical creature or not, I need to do what I can to stop this before it gets out of hand.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Councillor, I’ve been to the Military Headquarters: they’ve got barricades set up outside, troops, tanks; I don’t think they want visitors.”

“And yet you’ve been there,” Councillor Emerald pointed out.

“I have … certain skills that you don’t,” Sunset replied. “Especially if you mean to do more than sneak around; if you want to stop the fighting, that will mean confronting … it will be dangerous.”

“If it wasn’t dangerous, Miss Shimmer, I wouldn’t need your protection,” Councillor Emerald pointed out.

“That is … Councillor, I’m not sure who will listen to you. As I said, their wills are not their own.”

“A creature, yes,” Councillor Emerald said. “That part I’m happy to leave to you — monster hunting is what you’ve been learning, after all — but if Blackthorn and the others aren’t thinking clearly, then it is all the more important that someone should be there to take command once they emerge from … being controlled. They might not be in any state to think clearly.” He took a step towards her. “I’ve no doubt that there will be danger, Miss Shimmer,, but nevertheless … I owe Vale this. As you say, I am the First Councillor of Vale, and if Vale does need me, then she needs me to act, not hide or sit in this house waiting for news. I need to do something.”

“I know that feeling well enough, Councillor,” Sunset admitted. “Very well. We’ll go together.”

“At once, if you don’t mind,” Councillor Emerald said. “I’m ready. I was on my way out when this gentleman … yes, as I say, I’m ready.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “You don’t want to say goodbye to—”

“Why would I want to say goodbye to Bramble?” Councillor Emerald. “I’ll be back before he wakes up.”

Sunset found herself smiling. “Alright, Councillor, let’s go. We’ll take my bike; there’s room for two.”

“Very well, Miss Shimmer,” Councillor Emerald said. “I doubt we’ve a moment to lose.”

Top Bolt (New)

Top Bolt

And now they were attacking Beacon as well.

Ironwood kept his face impassive. So far — and that was a very big 'so far'; the night was unfortunately young, much as he might have wished it over and done with at this point — no attack on Vale itself, or on the defences screening the city, but first an attack on the Amity Arena in the air, and now a combined air and ground attack on Beacon. From what he could tell, beowolves and ursai had scaled the cliffs up from the Emerald Forest, with creeps digging upwards through the earth and nevermores and griffons supporting from the sky.

Not an unimaginable possibility, but at the same time one that had always seemed unlikely. It was a long climb up those steep cliffs out of the woods; if the grimm lost the advantage of surprise — and they likely would have lost it, if it weren't for all the other distractions of the night — then they would be sitting ducks clinging to that cliff-face, and even if they did manage to get up the cliffs and gain the flat ground, then they'd still be faced with all of the students and professors at the school, including Ozpin himself.

It was a great deal of risk for very little chance of success — in ordinary circumstances.

These were not ordinary circumstances.

Attention had been on the Amity Arena and the grimm that had already started the attack there, on the flying grimm that had already emerged out of the forest, not on the ground grimm that might yet come out of there. And a lot of students were up in the Amity Arena, pinned down by the grimm surrounding it.

Although not, perhaps, for much longer.

Ironwood frowned slightly. "Get me Colonel Harper on the line."

"Aye aye, sir," said des Voeux. "Patching you through now."

It did not take a moment for Colonel Harper's voice to emerge out of the speakers into the CIC. "General, sir. What can I do for you?"

"How's it looking out there, Harper?" Ironwood asked. Harper's voice did not seem ruffled or panicked in any way, which he took as a good sign until she told him otherwise. "How are the Valish?"

"The Valish seem a bit confused," Harper said, a light chuckle venturing into her voice. "Ever since that windbag came over the horn … I was expecting an attack, but I think they're more scared of us than I am of them. They've refused their line back, just like we have, and now we're sort of glaring at one another across the field."

"But they're not engaging?" Ironwood asked.

"No, sir," Harper replied. "Their lieutenant colonel sent a runner across with a handkerchief on a stick, asking if we could have a truce until it was settled whether we were actually at war or not. I told him that was fine by me, but he should expect me to keep an eye on him and his regardless."

"That's fine," Ironwood told her. "We didn't seek this fight, and though we'll defend ourselves, we won't seek to expand the fight either. Defend yourself, but don't escalate. If the Valish don't want to fight, then don't give them one. That's not why we're here."

"No, sir," Harper said again. "But speaking of why we're here, the grimm are looking a little restless."

"Are they attacking?" Ironwood asked.

"Not yet, sir," Harper said, "but they're going to, I'd bet anything on it. They're getting themselves worked up, growling and howling. You know how they get; they're trying to scare us before they charge."

Ironwood didn't ask if it was working. "Engage at your discretion, Harper, weapons free. Des Voeux, send that to Fourth Battalion as well; they may engage the grimm as they feel necessary."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll hold back," Harper told him. "With everything else that's happening, I don't see the sense in provoking them to attack if we can keep them sitting there making noises for a little longer." She paused. "How bad is it, sir?"

"In Vale? I'm not sure," Ironwood admitted. "That's something the Valish will have to handle themselves; I'm not going to commit our troops to a fight in the city while they're also fighting grimm on the Green Line."

Not many of our troops, anyway; just a few of the best.

"As for Beacon," Ironwood went on, "we'll see."

"I'll let you get to it, sir," Harper said. "Good luck."

"You too, Harper," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

So. The grimm were not attacking the Green Line yet, but they would soon, if Harper was any judge, and Ironwood thought that she was in this instance.

First Amity, then Beacon, and only then the lines in front of Vale. Ironwood began to see, or thought that he began to see, the essence of the plan of attack here; the grimm were carrying out an attack en echelon, where each element of the assault moves forward consecutively from one or both flanks, rolling inwards towards the centre or the other end of the battle line. As tactics went, it wasn't worthless; if it worked — if the lead element succeeded in its objectives — then it offered the opportunity to roll up the enemy line like a rug as each element stormed forward against an enemy that was also under pressure from its flank. However, if it didn't work, for every element of the attack that was repulsed, the chance of the next part of the attack succeeding dropped, and the attack dissolved into a series of disconnected assaults on sectors of the enemy line, each vulnerable to fire from their flanks and each too small to achieve a breakthrough.

That was a lesson the grimm were about to learn tonight. Their attack on Amity had failed, his airships were about to regain control of the skies around the arena, and when they did, he would be able to bring the students down from the Colosseum to reinforce Beacon; not to mention the fact that, as they hadn't yet begun their assault on the Green Line, they'd lost the chance to tie down his air assets.

"Order Champion Squadron to begin strafing the cliff face and base," Ironwood ordered. "Gold Squadron is to provide escort against airborne grimm." He couldn't risk airstrikes on Beacon itself — quite apart from the damage to the school, there were still civilians in the combat zone — but he could cut off the flow of reinforcements coming out of the Emerald Forest.

"Yes, sir."

"And get Professor Ozpin on the line," Ironwood added. It was possible that Ozpin would be too busy in the midst of the battle to take a call from him, and if that was the case, then Ironwood could hardly complain, but if he could get through — to Ozpin, or if not him, then he would try Glynda next — then it would help him understand the situation on the ground.

Where did Amber fit into all this? It was the lacuna in their understanding of the enemy, and a big one, considering that the whole point of all this was surely to obtain the Fall Maiden's power as the first of two steps to obtaining the Relic of Choice, either now or at some undefined future point, provided that Salem, having gotten the Fall Maiden under her thumb, could keep her that way, ensuring the succession of the powers through loyal servants.

It was the one thing that Cinder hadn't spilled to Ozpin and his students, or rather, she had, but through a fantastical story of Amber betraying them all and throwing her lot in with Salem, which Ozpin had dismissed out of hand. So, if not that, then what was the point of all this otherwise? Chaos within Vale, grimm outside of Vale, what did they hope to achieve by all this?

To kill or kidnap Amber was the obvious answer, although with Cinder still alive, then that might do them less good then it might have — unless the plan was to kill or kidnap Cinder in the confusion too. Take them both, kill them both, let the power transfer to someone else, a third party, known — Shadow, perhaps — or unknown, someone loyal to Salem and more reliable than Cinder Fall had been.

If that was the objective, then it might explain why the grimm attack was rolling out the way it was: start the attack at Amity to kill a lot of students on board the arena and weaken the defences; then strike at Beacon to get Amber; then, once that was done and it was time to retreat with Amber, launch the main assault to absorb the energies of the defenders and prevent an effective pursuit.

It would explain why the grimm were puffing out their chest as though they were about to assault but weren't actually attacking yet. If he was right, then they would not until Amber was taken.

If Amber wasn't taken … they might even withdraw; or they might assault anyway out of sheer frustration.

And, of course, he could be wrong; the trouble with assuming that you'd guessed the enemy's intentions was that if you'd misread them, then you could be badly caught out.

But there had to be some plan for Amber, surely. This couldn't just be about spreading chaos and devastation.

But Amber was Ozpin's concern. He couldn't ask about her, he couldn't take overt special measures to protect her. How would he explain it to his officers?

He would have to trust that Ozpin had it handled.

"James," Ozpin said, his voice coming through on the speaker. He sounded tired, weary; Ironwood wasn't sure that he'd ever heard him sound so tired before. It was a little disconcerting.

More than that, it was worrying.

"Ozpin," Ironwood said. "What's the situation down there?"

"The grimm are … in the school," Ozpin murmured. "I believe that the remaining students are trying to hold them back, very commendable of them, but I fear that they are insufficient in number."

"You believe?" Ironwood repeated. "Ozpin, where are you? Where's Glynda?"

"I sent Glynda away," Ozpin replied. "Councillor Emerald requested the support of the students in dealing with the crisis within Vale, so I sent Glynda with half the students willing to fight."

That explains how that all fits into this. "Have you called them back?"

"No," Ozpin said. "There are people in Vale in need of assistance."

"It sounds as though Beacon might be in need of assistance too," Ironwood pointed out. "Oz, where … who's in charge down there?"

He didn't like having to ask that, by any means, but it didn't exactly sound like Ozpin was in command of the situation on the ground, and it wasn't disloyalty for Ironwood to observe that fact.

"I'm not sure."

"Oz, they need a leader down there!" Ironwood declared, his voice rising. "I'm sure the students are doing their best, but this isn't a battle that they expected to fight." He paused. "I'm going to start dropping students down from Amity to support the defence." It was a risk, with the skies not yet completely clear, but there were few enough grimm around the arena that the people sheltering there should be safe, and the risk to the students was sufficiently low that it could be balanced against the risk of not trying to reinforce Beacon as soon as possible. "And with Vale in its current state, I think we need to start evacuating people from Beacon up to the Amity Arena; once the skies are clear, it can be our lifeboat. Their lifeboat."

There was a pause before Ozpin said, "That may not be popular, but it seems reasonable."

"Ozpin, I—" Ironwood halted, aware that he might be crossing the line into impertinence with what he was about to say — not something he often had to worry about — but ultimately, his sense that it needed saying nonetheless. "Ozpin, you need to get it together. The students need you, Vale might need you, and I need someone in authority in Vale I can rely on right now." He paused. "I know this can't be easy, but Beacon will still be here tomorrow, and it will need its headmaster too."

Another pause from Ozpin before his reply. "Will it, James? Will Beacon still be here tomorrow?"

"If we fight for it tonight, then yes, it will," Ironwood said. "I need to go, Oz, but reinforcements will be on their way soon. Ironwood out."

"With respect, sir," Fitzjames began.

"I advise you to think carefully before you finish that sentence, Major," Ironwood muttered.

"He sounds done," Fitzjames went on regardless. "He sounds as though the fight's gone out of him."

"This is his home, Major," Ironwood replied. "His kingdom, his school; this all hits harder for him than it does for us. Try to remember that, before you write Ozpin off. Des Voeux, get me Spitfire on the line."

"Yes, sir."

Two green beams leapt out of Spitfire's laser, firing over the top of her cockpit before leaping through the air to eviscerate a nevermore.

"Spitfire, this is Command," General Ironwood's voice came through her helmet and into Spitfire's ears. "Does the situation look as good to you as it does on the sensors?"

"Copy that, Command; we've almost got this wrapped up," Spitfire said. "And then we'll be ready to do it all again at a lower altitude."

"Hmm," General Ironwood murmured. "Do you think it's safe enough to start transferring the students down to Beacon? It sounds like they could use their help down there."

"Affirmative, sir; most of the grimm and the Valish have been taken care of, and we'll be wrapping up the rest before the transports get here," Spitfire said. "What about—?"

"Ten is down!" Blaze's voice blasted into Spitfire's ears. "Repeat, Ten is down!"

"Command, I'm going to have to call you back," Spitfire said, before switching to the squadron frequency. She could say on her instruments that Lightning Streak's indicator on the radar had disappeared, while Blaze's indicator was being trailed by two — the last two — red icons for Valish AF-14s. "Report!"

"Two Valish fighters managed to get in behind us," Blaze grunted. "And these two really know how to fly."

"Copy that; I'm on my way," Spitfire said. "Five, Six, try and get in behind the Valish; I'm going to come in above and in front. Two, hang back and cover me."

"Affirmative, Leader," said Silver Zoom.

"Copy that, Lead," Soarin' replied. "I'm en route. Hold on, Blaze."

"I'm trying," Blaze growled.

Spitfire rolled her Sky Dart, turning upside down briefly, letting her look straight down on Blaze and her pursuers. Both Tomahawks had wings painted in distinctive colours: a vibrant, fiery red for the first; a cold, icy blue for their wingman. Both were keeping tight on Blaze's tail; machine gun fire leapt from the noses of their airships in short, controlled bursts.

As Spitfire completed her roll, sending the Sky Dart spiralling downwards as she began her descent, Blaze pulled up and to the left, rolling away from Amity Arena and starting a turn towards Vale.

The Valish hung onto her tail like limpets.

"He's got a lock on me!"

"Shake him, Nine!" Soarin' shouted.

"I'm trying!" Blaze snapped.

A missile fired from under the lead Tomahawk's wing, flames burning on its tail as it streaked through the air.

"Nine defending!" Blaze cried, as a stream of flares cascaded out of the rear of her airship, little flaming flashes like flakes of snow caught in a storm. They trailed out of the rear of Blaze's Sky Dart as she turned northwards, and the missile struck a flare in a vibrant explosion on Blaze's tail.

Spitfire dived downwards as Blaze pulled up sharply, executing an almost ninety degree turn that the older Tomahawk shouldn't have been able to match, but they matched it, both of them, keeping up with Blaze as she erupted into the sky.

Their machine gun fire, just missing Blaze, only just missed Spitfire too, the tracer rounds speeding past her cockpit and just missing her wings.

"Nine, clear the way," Spitfire said.

"Copy that, Lead," Blaze replied, shifting her Sky Dart down to pass beneath Spitfire.

Spitfire opened up with her own machine gun, firing a burst, then a second, then a third downwards towards the pursuing Valish.

The pair split up, one — red wings — breaking left, while blue wings broke to the right.

"Five, Six, break left," Spitfire commanded. "The one on the right is mine."

That was Soarin's right,and her left — the red winged pilot who had taken the lead against Blaze. He was now turning away, headed towards the Amity Arena and the damaged Resolution.

Missiles erupted from the damaged cruiser, where flames still raged on the port side, but obviously enough of the weapons were still working just fine. Six missiles, firing from launchers around the prow of the warship, burning through the dark leaving trails of smoke behind them.

The Valish pilot danced through them all, not even using his flares, just making his Tomahawk slip and slide through the air as the missiles chased after him like wolves going after a horse. But this horse was fast and knew what it was doing. The Valish pilot jinked up and down, left and right, making small movements that made the missiles twist and turn nevertheless, then they would abruptly change direction and leave the missiles eating their exhaust jets until they had to make wild, inefficient swings to keep up.

Have they had a custom job done on their airship, or are they just that good a pilot? Spitfire wondered, because she'd never see anyone move a Tomahawk quite like this.

Her own machine gun fire wasn't faring any better than the missiles at catching him; every time she thought she'd lined him up, he pulled a move to get out of her sights.

She was impressed and irritated in equal measure.

The Valish pilot opened up the throttle on their airship, increasing their speed dramatically as they turned hard, passing so close to the pursuing missiles that they could have stuck a hand out of the cockpit and touched them, before racing towards the Amity Arena.

The missiles could not turn so tight, but they turned regardless, following the Valish pilot towards the Colosseum.

Is he leading them towards the arena? Spitfire thought. It was a theoretical tactic for dealing with tight air defences where slow bombers couldn't get close — target the missiles at a fast fighter and let them lead the missiles in before pulling up hard and fast and letting the missiles slam into the target you always intended them to hit — but as far as she was aware, it had never been done.

And it had certainly never been done against a civilian target! For gods' sake! Even if Vale and Atlas were at war now, there were still rules about this kind of thing.

Spitfire gritted her teeth as she switched from machine gun to laser.

She targeted the first of Resolution's six missiles; they were much easier targets to acquire than the Valish pilot: they weren't trying to evade her, for one thing.

Spitfire fired her laser six times; six beams of green energy lanced out from overhead to pierce the missiles like balloons, every one of them exploding to briefly light up the dark sky.

The Valish pilot waggled his wings at her.

Spitfire growled wordlessly, and it was only the fact that the Amity Arena was in front of both of them that stopped her from letting him have it with her laser right there and then. She switched to the twenty-mil cannons and tried to line up a shot.

He jinked upwards, and when she followed, he jinked downwards; did he prefer up and down to left and right? If she was going to get him, it was probably because she could predict what they were likely to do next. Where were they likely to go?

"Watch out, Six, break right! Break right!"

"Six, defending!"

"Five, Six," Spitfire said. "Do you need assistance?"

"Negative," Soarin' replied, although it sounded like he was breathing kind of hard. "We'll get him, Leader; he's just a slippery customer, that's all."

A male voice, middle-aged or thereabouts, came over Spitfire's comm. "You Atlesians fly around in the most state-of-the-art airships dropping bombs on people from twenty thousand feet, and you think that makes you the best. But I gotta say, I'm not really seeing it."

Spitfire scowled as she switched to the open channel, the same channel that her Valish opponent must be using. "Where's the rest of your squadron?"

The Valish pilot laughed. "Well, it's like the Vacuans say: those who fall behind get left behind. Or maybe they don't say that, maybe they just live it. Either way."

He fired two missiles, both of them streaking through the darkness towards the Amity Arena.

The Valish pilot turned away, turning left and up and swinging around to come down behind Spitfire if she was any judge. Spitfire didn't turn to follow. She switched back to her laser and targeted the first of his missiles.

She wasn't sure what state Resolution's point defence was in, and she wasn't going to take the risk.

She fired once, and the first missile exploded; she fired a second time, and the second missile went up in a fireball.

"You know there are Valish civilians on the arena, right?" Spitfire demanded. "Your people?"

"Not my people," the pilot said. "Useless wasters. Mouth breathers who think watching teenagers in stupid outfits fight for their amusement is the height of entertainment. Vale would have been much better off if you'd just let those missiles hit the target."

"Uh huh," Spitfire muttered. "And what does that make you?"

"I think that makes me," the Valish pilot said, "right up your tail."

The warning beep of a missile locked sounded as red lights flashed on Spitfire's HUD.

Spitfire jerked on the stick, making her Sky Dart twist in the air as, with her free hand, she slammed down the button on the side of the cockpit to release flares. She could feel the airship tremble a bit, hear the rolling thudding sound as the flares deployed, and in her mind's eye, she could see them streaming out of the back of the fighter.

The missile lock warning died. Spitfire wondered if he had any missiles left. He'd fired at least four.

She jinked and twisted, seeing the tracers of his gunfire fly past her, overhead or underneath or to the side. She rolled to the side, and he kept pace with her.

She considered flipping her airship a solid one hundred and eighty degrees in the air so that she was facing him nose to nose, but while that might work, it would also give him the opportunity to shoot back, so it wasn't ideal.

And it might not even work if he was quick enough; he could get out of her way, and she'd have restricted her own manoeuvrability.

Restricted…

A grin began to spread across Spitfire's face.

You want the kill, buddy? Come and get it!

She pulled up and opened up the throttle all the way to maximum, including tapping the booster a couple of times to push the speed to test pilot 'you shouldn't need to go this fast in the field, and we recommend you don't' speeds. She rose fast, she rose like fire consuming the tallest tree in the forest, she rose through darkness towards the moon.

"What's the hurry?" the Valish pilot asked as he rose after her. "You running away or just trying to make it to space?"

"Well, I have always wanted to go to the moon," Spitfire replied.

The Valish pilot laughed. His Tomahawk couldn't move as fast as Spitfire's Sky Dart, but he was able to execute the rise as nimbly as she did, and he was able to follow after her even if he did start to fall behind.

At first, Spitfire could still see his tracer rounds flying past her as she moved her Sky Dart a little this way or a little that to stay just ahead of his gun sights. Then she stopped noticing that, and he must have stopped shooting, even though she could see from her radar that he was still on her tail, even as her tail got further away from him.

She might be outracing him, but she wasn't losing him.

But he had stopped shooting, and that was all to the good, because manoeuvring wasn't easy at this speed, and certainly not going straight up.

Spitfire was being pushed backwards into her seat by the G-forces; the pressure was getting heavier the higher up she soared. She could feel it on her chest. She could feel it inside her helmet pushing down on her head from all directions. It was harder to breathe, and it was only getting even harder, harder and harder. The same weight that crushed her chest like a megoliath stepping on it was pushing down on her eyelids. As she gasped for breath, Spitfire could see darkness intruding on the edges of her vision.

How high can this airship go?

How high does he think that it can go?

It had to look real. He couldn't think that she was faking it. It had to be plausible to him, a pilot — and a good pilot, she would admit, even if he wasn't a good man — that either she, or her airship, would fail.

A klaxon began to sound in Spitfire's ears. A red warning flashed on her HUD, right before her eyes.

Warning: Approaching Altitude Tolerance

"Lead, this is Five, what are you doing?" Soarin' demanded. "Your airship can't handle that height, and neither can you. You need to come back down, now!"

Well, if Soarin' and the computer think it's real.

Spitfire began to move her hands towards the controls in front of her. It was … difficult. It felt as though Atlas itself had been tied to her arm, weighing it down, dragging it backwards. As her airship rose, as the warning blared at Spitfire and flashed before her darkening eye, to move her hand an inch felt like trying to push her Sky Dart up a hill.

Spitfire gritted her teeth, and made a growling, wincing noise as she forced her arm upwards a switch marked Outgoing Transmissions.

There were two options: On and Off.

Spitfire flipped the switch to off, then scowled as she moved her arm towards another switch, this one marked Engines

There were two options: On and Off.

Grunting with effort, Spitfire flipped the toggle to Off.

The engines died, although the rest of her systems did not, so Spifire was assailed with fresh warnings about the engines being off.

She liked her airship, but the number of times the computer felt the need to state the obvious could get a little much every now and then.

She knew the engines were off. She had just turned the engines off, and now, she could see the Sky Dart start to fall. It tumbled, nose over tail, before starting to plummet down through the night sky towards the ground.

And towards the pursuing Valish airship with the red wings.

If she kept on falling, she was going to slam right into him, and they'd both go up together in an incandescent fireball.

Not that he'd let that happen — he was too good of a pilot for that — but for now, he stayed on course, rising to meet her as she fell down to him.

After all, she wasn't going to hit him just yet, and while she didn't know what he looked like, Spitfire found that she could imagine the look on his face, the glee, the smirk, the triumph. All that effort to get away from him, and she'd ended up serving herself to him on a platter.

How he must be enjoying this.

Spitfire found that she was kind of enjoying this herself as her breathing began to ease off a little.

The missile lock warning was added to the cacophony of other warnings as the Valish pilot fired a missile, his last missile — as she dropped towards him she could see that clearly — burning through the darkness towards her.

Spitfire had both hands on the stick, the trembling in it travelling up hands and arms as the airship shook and shuddered as it fell.

She tried to look past the warnings to the targeting reticule on her HUD, watching it move past the Valish fighter, then just beneath it, then to the side, never quite landing on him as her airship descended.

She fell, and the missile rose. The missile lock warnings grew louder, and the flashing red lights made it even harder to see the targeting reticule.

But she was almost there. Almost there, she could feel it.

It narrowly missed him again.

Spitfire grimace. Come on, come on.

The reticule passed directly over him and Spitfire fired.

A green beam burst from her laser and pierced through the Valish Tomahawk like a spear through a grimm.

For a moment, the Valish airship seemed to hang there, suspended in the air with a hole blown clean through its fuselage.

Then it exploded, a fireball consuming it from the inside out.

Spitfire frantically flicked the switch to turn her engines back on. She felt them shake the whole fighter, heard them roar out behind her as she pulled up, yanking the stick to the right as she turned away from the fast-approaching missile. She thumped the countermeasures button with her fist to release another set of flares, carpeting the air behind her in the motes of fire.

The missile indicator ceased, as did all the other warnings as Spitfire guided her airship downwards.

A glance at her radar showed that the other Valish pilot had also been dealt with.

"Five, Six, congratulations," she said, turning transmissions back on and switching to the squadron channel. "Who got him?"

"Soarin'," Misty admitted cheerfully. "Though it wasn't as fancy as the way you got yours, Leader."

"Nobody try that at home," Spitfire said. She clenched and unclenched her hand as she switched to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Leader; all Valish airships are down; the remaining grimm are being mopped up now. Recommend that Nova Squadron remains on standby in case the grimm return, but I think that you can start transporting students down to Beacon now; Amity should be safe."

"Understood, Spitfire, I'll dispatch transports," General Ironwood said. "Descend with them and engage the flying grimm while the students clear the ground. Don't engage ground targets; we have civilians in the combat zone."

"Copy that, sir," Spitfire replied. "Spitfire out." She switched back to the squadron channel. "Okay, Wonderbolts, transports will soon be arriving to carry the students down from the arena to Beacon to reinforce the defenders there. We will escort them down, and once they are landed safely, we will clear the skies just like we did here. We won the Battle of the Arena, people, but the Battle for Beacon starts now."

Penny Drops (New)

Penny Drops

Starlight was grateful that she hadn't been stabbed in the back yet in the course of this fight.

She hated it.

Not that she wanted to be stabbed in the back, obviously, but she hated — she absolutely hated — the fact that she was grateful.

She blamed the General.

Starlight was — or liked to think she was — a more realistic sort of person than some of her friends and fellow students. She didn't put General Ironwood up on a pedestal — certainly not anymore — and she didn't wholly believe in all that 'rah rah, we're Atlesians, sorority of sisters' stuff that Trixie or Rainbow could make sound so grand and that had possessed so much dazzling allure for Blake that she was prepared to chase it all the way to the frozen north. Starlight knew better. Starlight, in her own opinion, saw the world more how it was, with all the shades of grey. Not everyone could be trusted, even if they wore an Atlas uniform, and sometimes, General Ironwood would call you into a secret meeting and tell you that you had to hang around a dying woman for the foreseeable future so that she could pass on her secret magic powers to you and then you could spend the rest of your life keeping them every bit as secret.

A lot of shades of grey, and some of them could get pretty dark.

But you could go too far with an attitude like that; it was one thing to acknowledge shades of grey in the world and another to go all in on cynicism. Just because not everyone could be trusted was no reason not to trust anyone; in fact, the very fact that some people were not to be trusted made it even more imperative to find people you could trust and cling onto them tightly. Otherwise, if you prided yourself on trusting no one, you were liable to end up trusting precisely the wrong person at precisely the wrong time.

And top of the list of people you should trust — or ought to be able to trust — were your teammates. If you couldn't trust them — if you couldn't rely on them — then you really were screwed.

Starlight trusted Trixie with her life; she trusted Sunburst absolutely — the difference between with her life and absolutely being largely a value judgement on Trixie and Sunburst's relative competence — and Tempest … even if Starlight had never liked Tempest — and it was fair to admit that she hadn't — she'd never actually distrusted her. Tempest was spiky sometimes, snide often, unpleasant to be around frequently, but Starlight had never doubted that she was on their side. She was unlikeable, but she knew what she was doing, and Starlight had never been afraid to fight by her side.

Until now. It was all General Ironwood's fault, coming around with his insinuations, his unverified intelligence that suggested that Tempest might — might, mark you, not was, but might — be working against them. No proof, or at least no proof that he could share with Starlight or Trixie, just instructions to keep an eye on her.

That had gone out of the window now, for obvious reasons, and now, Starlight was fighting side by side with Tempest, and her back itched in the process, and she was grateful for every moment that Tempest didn't attack her instead of the grimm.

She hated it. She wanted to be able to focus squarely and solely on the enemy in front of her, not have to worry about the possible enemy beside her all the time.

Tempest wasn't actually right behind her at this moment; Starlight was the only one of Team TTSS presently holding the line; Trixie had had an idea to even the odds a bit and had taken Sunburst off to help her carry it out, while Tempest had gotten tired of not being able to act until the grimm came closer; maybe someone should have gone with her as well, but with Trixie having taken Sunburst away, Starlight couldn't exactly go anywhere because, as stated, she was the only one left holding the line.

There were other huntsman teams still in or around Beacon — Starlight could hear some of them fighting back in other areas — but right now, right here, in this particular part of the fairgrounds, it was only Team TTSS, which meant that it was only Starlight for the moment.

She was crouched in one of the fairground stalls, behind the counter, where the guy actually running the stall would have stood before they ran off in fear of the grimm; there was a wall full of plushies behind her, grinning down at Starlight with big googly eyes while her knees bumped against plastic boxes full of tennis balls.

The grimm advanced in a mass, a black mass enlivened by blotches of white where you could see their faces, white with touches of red, be it gleaming eyes or marks like paint. It was weird how some grimm looked like they put on warpaint.

Perhaps they did put on warpaint; even the Grimm Studies teachers didn’t know a lot about what grimm got up to in their spare time. Perhaps they all sat around painting their skulls in preparation for the big fight.

Then I’d best give them the fight they were preparing for.

Starlight gritted her teeth as she fired Equaliser into the advancing grimm; the blue beams seemed to be disappearing into the black mass, swallowed up by the sheer numbers of the advancing grimm. Seemed, not were; Starlight aimed for the heads, for the white masks with the red eyes and markings, and she could see the masks shatter, see the heads disappear, see the grimm fall, even if they were so swiftly subsumed within the advance that, if she didn’t trust her own eyes, she might not have believed they fell.

But they indeed fell. She was thinning the ranks.

Just not quite fast enough all by herself. Sometimes, it took two, three, maybe even five shots from Equaliser to kill a single big ursa or alpha beowolf; yes, the weaker creatures, the creeps or the juveniles, she could get in one, but there were just so many.

So many of them and only one of her.

Come on, Trixie, where are you?

At this rate, she might have to fall back. She didn’t want to do that; they’d already fallen back once, having intended to hold the grimm beyond the edge of the fairground; the numbers of the enemy — and the fact that they were kind of on their own out here — had forced TTSS to fall back into the fairgrounds itself, giving up the burger van, the Bat the Rat, and the Bucket Toss; if Starlight had to fall back again, the grimm would be on top of the carousel.

It all might seem trivial stuff, but every step that they retreated reduced the amount of safe space for the civilians.

But Starlight might have to do it, because if those grimm kept on coming like they were coming now, then the alternative … well, she didn’t want to die for some kind of bucket toss and a lot of smiling plushies.

She glanced sideways as Tempest returned, carrying a rifle with a pipe attached to it, a pipe that led to some kind of canister which Tempest dumped on the floor.

“What’s that?” Starlight asked, as she kept shooting.

“A rifle,” Tempest replied, stating the obvious. As she loaded it, she said, “I got tired of having to wait for the grimm to get close, especially since you and Trixie don’t like letting the grimm get close.”

“Forgive us for preferring to keep the grimm at a range where they can’t hit back,” Starlight muttered. “Did you get that from a fairground game?”

“I doubt the grimm care what they get shot with,” Tempest declared, as she loaded a magazine into the rifle. She raised the gun — it had a wooden stock and a slender barrel extending out past said stock — and fired. “Sights are off, though.”

“I wonder why that might be?” Starlight muttered.

Tempest didn’t reply; she just scowled a little bit — not unusual for Tempest — and then fired again. This time, she hit something; a beowolf yelped in pain and collapsed on the ground, not dead but clutching at its chest.

“You grasped it quickly,” Starlight observed.

“I was aiming for the one to the left,” Tempest replied.

There were times, when she was feeling agreeable, when Tempest could muster a wit that wasn’t aimed at any of her teammates or their friends; Starlight wished that she could appreciate it without wondering if Tempest was putting on an act.

Don’t think about that. We have bigger problems right now.

I might not think that if Tempest actually betrayed me.

Maybe not, but she hasn’t yet, so worry about it when she actually does.

Trixie arrived, running up on the right hand side of the stand, carrying several big crates stacked one on top of the other, piled high in such a way that she couldn’t actually see what was in front of her, and it seemed like a miracle that she didn’t run right into the grimm.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for the delay to today’s extrrrrrraordinary performance!” Trixie declared in her grandiose style as she put down the crates. “The unexpected circumstances forced some last minute adjustments. Sunburst, that’ll do.”

Sunburst had come up behind Trixie, similarly laded with the wooden crates, and if it hadn’t been for Trixie’s warning, he wouldn’t have stopped when he did and started, like her, putting the boxes down.

“I hope it was worth it, whatever it was,” Starlight said as she fired some more shots from Equaliser. The power pack was almost drained, so she quickly swapped it out, putting the old one back into a pouch at her belt, to be used again if she ran out of fresh power cells. “What was it you went looking for?”

Trixie grinned viciously as she kicked over one of the crates; an array of fireworks, large and small, painted in bright colours and decorated with shooting stars and fizzing lines like the waves of an explosion, spilled out onto the grass.

“The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie thought that this situation called for some artillery support!” Trixie proclaimed. “After all, it’s not as though there’s going to be a show tonight.”

“That’s true,” Sunburst said as he upended more of the crates so that their fireworks spilled out onto the grass. “But will this actually work?”

“I don’t see why not; they’re filled with dust,” Trixie said. She flourished her wand as the chill breeze made her cape flutter behind her, the moonlight dancing upon the stars. “And if it doesn’t, we’ll get a light show out of it. Stand back, Sunburst! Don’t try this at home, children!”

“Who’s she talking to?” muttered Tempest.

Nobody replied as Trixie pointed her wand down at the first crate. There were warnings about the flammable contents and to keep away from flames.

Fire leapt from the tip of Trixie’s wand; the flames caught the wooden crate and began to devour it; the fire spread as she Trixie flourished her wand sideways; soon, all the boxes were aflame, even as Trixie retreated from them.

Starlight and Tempest kept shooting as the grimm advanced, heedless of what Trixie had just done — or were they? Starlight could see some of the larger grimm, the ursai major and the alpha beowolves, beginning to retreat, or at least to stand still and let the younger, more numerous, less experienced grimm pass around them and take their places in the front line. Did they know? Did they recognise what a firework was?

But if they knew, then why not save their followers instead of letting them press on like this?

You could get a headache trying to understand why the grimm behaved the way they did, at least when they were doing anything more complicated than trying to kill someone.

Anyway, the grimm — some of the grimm, a lot of grimm — kept coming, and Starlight kept firing, Tempest too.

The flames consumed the wooden crates and their warnings. Starlight could hear spitting sounds from the fireworks within.

“Fire in the hole!” Trixie yelled.

The fireworks erupted out of the burning crates, showering sparks of blue, green, white, yellow — the colours of the four academies the most prominent amongst the set — in a host of hues and shades, along with lesser-seen examples of a riot of other colours too; they all leapt out of the burning boxes, sparks flying out behind them. They moved erratically, some of them flying upwards into the air, corkscrewing wildly over the heads of the grimm to hit nevermores in the skies above or just to explode with loud bangs and showers of colourful sparks that lit up the night sky; most of them didn't miss like that, some rose a little off the ground but not so high, others flew along the ground itself like startled snakes, turning this way and that even as they moved forwards. Their sparks singed the grass or even lit it on fire, trails of flame following in the wake of the fireworks even as the fire that Trixie had set began to spread out too.

The grimm were so numerous that they could hardly miss.

Most of them didn’t.

The fireworks flew swiftly into the midst of the great mass of grimm, causing yelps and howls of pain as the sparks flew, making beowolves flail with their paws as low-flying fireworks slammed into them, and then they exploded. They exploded in so many colours, with so many sparks of light erupting out of every firework that it was blinding. Starlight couldn't see the grimm before them, she couldn't hear them roar or growl or bellow in their rage, she couldn't hear anything but the banging of so many fireworks exploding, couldn't see anything but the field of explosions flowering in front of her. She had to shut her eyes against the brightness and the colours, and even when she did so, the many hues danced in the darkness before her eyes, the echoes of the explosions shifting first this way and then that.

The explosions continued to sound in her ears, sometimes fading a little but then returning again with renewed volume and intensity; the fireworks must have come with a variety of different fuse lengths, cut to get the fireworks going off at different points in the sky; now, it sounded as though they were going off at different points amongst the grimm; sometimes, Starlight could hear them when the fireworks themselves became less loud — bellowing, mewling in pain, pounding feet like a stampede — but then the fireworks rose in sound to a new crescendo and drowned them out again.

It sounded, when she could hear them, like the grimm were panicking; they had swarmed forward expecting a victory against a token force arrayed against them, first one huntress, then three and one huntsman, then they had been assailed by such a sudden force out of nowhere; doubtless, the young grimm could not comprehend it; they would have never seen anything like it before.

The sound of the fireworks dropped; Starlight opened her eyes to see that the field of sparkling flowers had ceased to bloom, although a layer of smoke had settled over the battlefield, drifting listlessly over smouldering grass and the ash-shedding remains of fallen grimm.

Sunburst carried a long staff, taller than he was at its maximum length, and he set an ice dust crystal into the head of the staff and waved it in front of him. A small wave of ice emerged out of the staff to quell the flames that Trixie had begun, covering the remains of the burnt out boxes and the grass in a layer of sparkling ice.

The colours drifted across Starlight's vision like the smoke, both serving to slightly obscure what was before her blue eyes. But they could not conceal the fact that the grimm were thinned out in numbers, the great black mass that had borne down on Starlight diminished. Some grimm, not quite dead, lay on the grass amongst their smoking fellows, moaning and mewling; they were missing limbs or else had chunks taken out of them.

Others hung back, standing still or even starting to shuffle backwards, glaring at Team TTSS warily.

Starlight despatched each wounded grimm with singular well-aimed shots of Equaliser. Still, the grimm continued to hold, or slowly back away, staring at the Atlesian team from across the battlefield.

If they had had reinforcements, if the numbers on their side had been greater, if they had even been sure that backup was coming soon though it was not there yet, then now, Starlight was sure, would have been the moment for a counterattack. Now would have been the moment when Trixie could — and would, no doubt — have stepped forward, flourishing her wand in the air above her head, and called for a charge. Dazed as they were by the effects of the fireworks, confused, injured, the morale of the grimm would not have stood before it, and the older, wiser grimm would have broken and fled, leaving the younger and less experienced to be cut down.

If, if, if. If they had had the numbers for it, or the numbers on their way that they could trust to hurl themselves into the battle on their behalf, but they didn't. There were no reinforcements coming — at least, not that they knew of — and with just the four of them, they might make the grimm recoil temporarily, but they would soon recover their courage along with the knowledge of their numerical advantage, and Team TTSS would be surrounded and destroyed.

As it was, Starlight thought that what was mainly holding the grimm back was the worry they might have more fireworks.

And the moment they figure out we don't…

The grimm began to growl. It was low at first, a rumble like far-off thunder, but the thunder got closer, closer and closer to TTSS until all the grimm were roaring.

And then they were surging forwards once again.

Starlight leapt over the counter of the bucket toss. "Fall back?" she asked as she raised Equaliser to her shoulder and resumed firing.

"Not yet," Trixie replied, her voice calm as she took two steps forward. Her cape fluttered behind her as she thrust out her wand and a jet of fire burst from the tip, expanding outwards into a cone, a mouth that devoured a chunk of the onrushing grimm.

Tempest fired her fairground air rifle again, then threw it down in frustration. "Sunburst!" she snapped. "Give me something."

Sunburst planted his staff in the ground and reached behind him for the book — an old-fashioned looking, leather bound book, the sort of heavy tome one expected to see as a prop in a movie about sealed tombs and ancient curses — that he carried strapped to his back under his star-and-moon cape. He opened the tome, holding it in one hand and flicking through the pages with the other. "Rapid fire or penetration?"

"Do you have anything with both?" Tempest asked.

Sunburst pushed his spectacles back up his nose. "I think I might, yeah. Just a second." He held his hand out over the back, fingers spread out, as the pages began to flicker and dance as though the wind were so much stronger than was actually the case. The book began to glow with a golden light, the same soft gold as Sunburst's aura shining out of the book to light up Sunburst's lean, whey face.

He thrust his hand out in Tempest's direction. "Tempest! Catch!" he cried as what looked like a boxy, chunky handbag formed out of golden light and flew through the air in her direction.

Sunburst's semblance, Analytica, enabled him to understand a weapon just by looking at it — just once, just seeing it in operation, and he got it; everything snapped into place in his mind. Starlight thought that once his semblance evolved, he would be able to do the same thing to other semblances too, but he wasn't quite there yet. His book, Tome of Knowledge, contained page after page of schematics from which he could summon constructs — none of which he could use himself. It was the weakness of his semblance; for all its versatility, it was of no use to him personally whatsoever; all his understanding could only benefit others.

Like Tempest, as she followed Starlight over the stall counter and grabbed the handbag with one hand. She placed her other hand upon it as the handbag started to transform in her hand, folding and unfolding and expanding in her grasp into a rotary cannon.

Right, that's the leader of Team CFVY's weapon, isn't it?

Tempest grinned. "Oh, yes, come to mama." She was still grinning like a maniac as she levelled the rotary cannon in the direction of the grimm and opened fire.

Magenta 'bullets' — Sunburst's aura created the weapon, but Tempest had to pitch into it also — spat from the cannon as the barrels rotated rapidly, spitting a storm of fire towards the grimm. The grimm wilted before the storm, mowed down by it, beowolves tumbling, ursai only lasting a few moments longer before they, too, were cut down.

Tempest had a wild look on her face, her opal eyes gleaming as she began to advance, turning from the waist this way and that to spread her fire in a wide arc. "That's right, come and get it," she growled as she bore down on the grimm, firing as she went. "Come on!"

"Tempest, what are you doing?" Trixie demanded. "Get back here!"

Tempest ignored her; she just kept on walking towards the grimm, the golden light of Sunburst's aura dancing in her eyes as she swept deadly fire across the front ranks of the grimm. "That's it, come and get some! And some for you as well, plenty for everyone!"

"Tempest, stand fast!" Trixie shouted.

Tempest took no notice. She kept on walking, heedless of the way that the grimm were moving in from the flanks to surround her.

Starlight started to advance as well, and Trixie too; Starlight fired as she moved forward, bolts flying from Equaliser's barrel; Trixie's cape billowed out behind her as she ran forwards.

Tempest had stopped moving by now, and it was the grimm who were moving, closing in all around her as she fired, heedless, still wearing that manic look as though she were in no danger whatsoever.

Trixie pointed her wand towards the grimm, and more fire spilled out from the tip; Starlight switched Equaliser from rifle into polearm mode as she charged forward, if she could only reach Tempest, then she could drag her out and to safety—

The grimm closed the net. Tempest disappeared from Starlight's view, but Starlight could still hear her laughing wildly, consumed with battle madness.

Starlight's own eyes were wide as she hurled herself against the grimm, Equaliser whirling in her hands as she slashed at them, cutting through beowolves, hacking off the heads of ursai. But the grimm kept coming; where they had advanced in a mass, now they closed in on a point, intent on bringing Tempest down and blocking off all attempts to reach her.

Tempest's wild exultations turned to screams of pain.

"Tempest!" Starlight cried. No, no, they couldn't lose her, this could not be it, this could not be how she died: mistrusted by her teammates, suspected of treachery, thought ill of by those who should have trusted her. This … this couldn't be it. This couldn't be how Tempest died. This couldn't be how Team TTSS lost someone.

Tears pricked at the corners of Starlight's eyes as she hurled herself against the grimm, hacking and slashing, cutting wildly, desperate to get through them. The grimm were moving to surround her now, but Starlight didn't care. Tempest was in front of her; if she could just get to her, then—

"Starlight!" Trixie yelled, grabbing Starlight by the collar and hauling her back. "Starlight, get back!"

Trixie was casting fire in both directions, fending the grimm off with her flames as she tried to pull Starlight away, but the flames were flickering; she was running out of dust in the cartridge. "Starlight, come on!" she yelled. "If we don't fall back, we'll be cut off!"

"We can't just leave her!" Starlight yelled, straining against Trixie's grip.

"Starlight, it's too late, she's gone!" Trixie bellowed into Starlight's ears. "She's gone, but I am not losing you too; now, do as I say and FALL. BACK!"

Starlight obeyed, the instincts of obedience kicking in, the same instincts that Tempest had ignored. She and Trixie both stumbled backwards, away from the grimm who remained arrayed as though they were surrounding Tempest, although Starlight…

Starlight couldn't hear her anymore.

Damn you, General.

Trixie's hand shook a little as she tried to reload her wand. She dropped a dust cartridge down on the floor at her feet and fumbled for another. "We'll … retreat to the carousel," she said, gulping. "And use the roof as high ground. I'll be the rearguard."

Starlight blinked. Her eyes stung. "Trix—"

"I'll do it!" Trixie declared, her voice fierce despite — or maybe because — of the way it trembled. She pointed her wand towards the grimm. "Go on, I'll follow."

The grimm turned towards them, and in a mass, as though they were one mind, they started towards them — but then were checked; their advance ceased, and many grimm turned their faces southwards as cries of pain and despair rose up from that direction.

Grimm cries, not human ones. The grimm were crying out as something, some great force cut through them, throwing their ranks into disarray.

Not something, someone: a girl with a scarred face, with one eye seeming to burn through use of dust, a girl that Starlight had often seen lately in the company of Team SAPR, and sometimes of Team RSPT as well.

Amber. Her name is Amber.

"I didn't want this," Amber whispered as she stared up at the nevermores wheeling and darting through the night sky above, blocking out the clouds, fleeting across the moon, darting down with talons outstretched to pluck people up from Beacon below like … like worms at the mercy of the magpies in the garden.

She hadn't wanted this.

Dove was stood a little in front of her, sword half-drawn, steel showing from the scabbard at his hip. Bon Bon had one hand on Amber's arm — Amber didn't like the feeling; her grip was too sharp and too insistent — while Lyra stood just a little behind.

Dove didn't say anything to her; he had no words of comfort to offer. It pierced Amber more surely than his half-drawn sword would do, as much as the shrieking of the nevermores above and the growling of the beowolves and the ursai on the ground did.

She had … she had let him down. He was upset with her; he had been ever since she had suggested … since she had tried to… she had let him down over the way that she had treated Ruby. He was upset with her, and he had a right to be upset. She had behaved … she had not been worthy of herself, and certainly, she had not been worthy of him.

This was … when the grimm had started to attack that great floating arena up in the sky, when Lyra had come back — with Bon Bon only a step behind — to tell her that the flying arena was under attack; when she and Dove had looked out of the window to see the fire from the Atlesians floating warships trying to destroy the grimm, Amber had not liked it. She hadn't liked to think of Pyrrha and Jaune, or Penny, or sweet Ciel who knew so much about makeup, in danger so very high up in the sky, their very footing in danger of being ripped out from under them by flying monsters. She hadn't liked it, but she had salved her conscience by telling herself that they were brave and bold and far from helpless; she had told herself that these Atlesians, these northmen, were much vaunted — by themselves, to be sure, but by others too — and that should mean they could defend the flying arena, shouldn't it?

She had told herself that a distraction had been necessary, that something like this to distract Ozpin's eyes and keep her friends — her friends who, unfortunately, were also her gaolers and would choose their task as gaolers over their friendship with her the moment they learned of her intent — occupied while she escaped.

She had told herself all of this — told herself silently, because Lyra knew nothing of this, and Amber, for one, was in no hurry to enlighten her — and hoped that they would all come through it alright, even while she feared that Dove's misgivings were stronger and working harder on his spirit.

As they had looked out of the window, as Lyra had wondered what could be causing this sudden grimm assault, Amber had watched Dove's face twitch once or twice, seen a scowl flit across his face, as though he were struggling to hide his distaste.

She was trespassing upon the boundaries of his affection. She was reaching the limits beyond which he would not be Dove Bronzewing, good Dove, her Dove, and by reaching those limits … he might not be her Dove much longer.

They could not get out with a distraction, but Amber understood why that was cold comfort; the dish sat uncomfortably upon her own stomach. If Pyrrha were to perish, so beautiful, so kind, and so in love, why should Pyrrha die for Amber's sake?

If she should die, take her and cut her into little stars, and she shall make the darkness sparkle so that all the world shall be in love with night.

Why should all Remnant be in love with night that Amber may walk freely in the sun?

Why should Jaune be plunged into misery, cast into despond's darkest and most murky depths? Why should he grow his hair wild with misery and let a beard consume his face — or would he cut his hair instead, shedding the luscious, lovely locks that Pyrrha loved so well? Why should he do either of those things, so that Amber might be happy with Dove?

If she could be happy, after this. If Dove could be happy, if he could find happiness within him — or within her, more to the point.

I told myself my freedom was worth any cost, but now, the time has come to pay the bill.

That had all been bad enough, these thoughts and feelings had been bad enough before, when the battle was up above them in the sky, but now … now, there were grimm in Beacon, in the air above, on the grounds … now, the bill looked grave indeed, and the hand of the waiter tight upon her arm.

People were screaming. Some were running away, towards the docking pad, although there were no airships there; others had been trying to get into the school buildings — as Amber, Dove, Lyra, and Bon Bon had tried to get out, they had met by a crowd of people trying to get in, the doors to the dorm rooms thrown open to admit them and offer some shelter from the nevermores — but now, it seemed the grimm were getting too close to the buildings for comfort, and people were flying out again.

From where she stood in the courtyard, Amber could see to the dining hall, where they had all sat and eaten together, and she could see an immense ursa with great spikes erupting out of its back smash through the wall, opening the way for a pack of smaller grimm to swarm in behind and begin to tear up that place of memories, to smash the seats and devour the tables that had once been theirs.

Amber could hear some shooting, some battle cries, she could hear a lot of fireworks going off from the direction of the fairground, but it seemed that there weren't enough people left to defend the school. Either they were up in the sky still, or else they had gone into Vale with Professor Goodwitch, to deal with some trouble there.

They had gone and left the people here with too few protectors.

All part of the plan.

Amber felt sick.

"Amber," Lyra murmured. "Why would you say something like that? Of course you didn't want this, how…?" She trailed off.

Amber turned her head to look at her. Lyra had a frown upon her face, her brow furrowed intently.

"How," she repeated, slowly, each word stumbling out of her mouth, "could you even know that this was going to happen." She paused for a moment, and the furrow of her brow deepened yet further. "Did you know—?"

"Of course not," Bon Bon said quickly. "Of course not, Lyra, how would Amber have known that there was going to be a grimm attack?" She chuckled, or tried to; it came out as a rather strangled sound. "But I knew that—"

"You knew?" Lyra exclaimed.

"We needed a distraction!" Bon Bon hissed. "What did you think, that Professor Ozpin was just going to let us walk out?"

"But, but…" Lyra stammered. "People are dying, Bon Bon! People are scared, and … Sky wouldn't have wanted this."

Bon Bon shuddered but didn't reply to Lyra. She pulled at Amber's arm. "We have to go. Everyone's heading for the docks, straight away from the grimm, so we can head south across the face of the grimm, down the road, and into the open country behind the Green Line; we can lie low there and wait for Tempest to join us, if she can."

Dove half-turned his head, although he didn't quite look back. "What about the—?"

"Later," Bon Bon said. "We can't get it now, it's still too risky; we'll come back for it after, when things are quieter."

"Come back for what?" Lyra asked.

"Something that we need," Bon Bon replied. "Something stolen by Ozpin; Amber needs it to bargain for her freedom."

"'Bargain for her—'" Lyra repeated. "I thought we were doing this because it was right!"

"We are."

"It doesn't look or sound like it!" Lyra cried.

"Lyra, just—"

"You're right," Amber said, shaking Bon Bon's hand off her arm. She turned to face Lyra. A light breeze blew through the embattled school, grasping at the edges of Amber's forest-green cloak, making the hem dance around her legs; she planted one end of her staff, Sapphire — ironic name, now, and never seeming more inappropriate than in this moment — upon the courtyard stone as she placed her free hand on Lyra's shoulder. "You're right," she said again. "What we are … this is wrong. This should not have been done. For my freedom, I thought myself willing to pay any price, but now, I find myself recoiling from the cost." She smiled. "But we will make it right, before we go."

Dove turned around, spinning on one toe until he faced her and Lyra. "'Before we go'?"
Amber let her hand fall from Lyra's shoulder. "Will you … will you fight with me, my Dove, my knight, my Roland?"

"'Fight'?" Dove repeated. His mouth hung open. "You … you want to fight?"

Amber bowed her head a moment. "No," she confessed. "But I … though I did not ask to be made thus, I think that I must be what I was made to be, this one occasion." She reached up and stroked his face, her golden bangles bumping gently against his skin. "You have been my conscience, and my better half. Now be my sword, if you will, as I will be your rod and staff."

"You can't be serious!" Bon Bon exclaimed. "This … this is madness!"

"Since my mother died, I have been consumed with madness," Amber replied. "I have slept in madness, dwelt in madness; all the world has been consumed with madness; and the madness of the world has made me frantic, fearful, and unkind. Let this be hope's madness, then, a good heart's madness. Love's madness."

Dove let out a ragged gasp that set his whole body trembling. He closed his blue eyes as he took her hand and pressed it fiercely against his cheek as though he hoped her fingers and her palm would leave a permanent mark upon his skin. He was still clutching her hand — firmly, but not at all painfully — as he raised it to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

"I will fight," he said, his voice hoarse. "I will fight with you."

Amber closed her eyes and felt like sighing herself, for whatever happened now, whatever befell, she had restored herself into the good graces of Dove's heart, and that … she would rather die in his love than live a hundred years out of his affection.

And perhaps, when my friends discover what I have done, they will learn all that I have done and wonder that I could not be all wickedness, for I fought for the people on this night.

I was the Fall Maiden once, before I took my leave.

She walked forward, stepping around Dove and just ahead of him, letting her hand fall by her side as she looked forwards. There were grimm before her, in the dining hall and creeping around the dormitory of the Beacon students; possibly, they were inside the dorm as well, though Amber could see them not.

Having declared her intent to fight, Amber did not lack for enemies. They were before her, in all their fury, in all their howling noise, their gnashing of white teeth, in all their spikes and crimson marks upon their skulls, there they were.

Sapphire remained resting upon the ground, the wooden butt of the staff upon the stone.

The enemy lay before her, and Amber was still as the statue of the huntsman and the huntress; like them, she stood posed before snarling monsters, and she was doing as much to fight the real and living monsters.

She had never fought a battle before. She had trained for it — even before she became the Fall Maiden, she had been taught a little of fighting by her mother and Ozpin — she knew how to wield the quarterstaff in her hand, but she had never fought. Not until the day that Cinder came for her with her companions had Amber had to fight, and that battle had nearly been the death of her. Fear lay on Amber's shoulders as much as her cloak. Dread rose out of the ground and clasped its monstrous hands around her ankles and held them fast. Terror blew its breeze across Beacon and froze her solid.

And yet, in the midst of the chill wind, there was warmth. The warmth of a hand taking hers. Dove's hand closed around hers.

"Courage, Amber," he whispered to her. "Courage, for all that is to come."

He drew his sword with a resounding ring. His look was resolute, his jaw set, his handsome face suffused with courage as he cast his eyes around the battlefield. Amber kept her eyes on him, their hands clasped together, taking him in, drinking in how much more a hero he looked to her than he had ever looked before. Despite its dun brown colour, the moonlight that fell upon them seemed to make his armour shine.

Her Dove. Her knight. Her hero.

Courage, she thought. Yes, I must have courage, this once. Though I am a coward all the days of my life that are to come, tonight, I must have courage.

Music began to float into her ears from behind her. Lyra was playing her harp, her lithe, deft fingers plucking upon the tender strings, and the rising notes made Amber's heart rise with them. The heat of Dove's hand melted away the chill that froze her; dread hands unclasped her ankles, and the mantle of fear lay less heavily upon her.

She was the Fall Maiden; she had not sought to be, nor asked to be — it was an unwelcome inheritance, the most unsentimental heirloom that a mother could bestow upon a child — but she was the Fall Maiden. And tonight, she would be the Fall Maiden, that tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, she might be but Amber Bronzewing and in some humble cottage dwell in peace beside her love.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, she called upon her magic. It was not easy; it had never been easy for her, it was as though the magic could sense her nerves the way dogs could sometimes, and now, the magic felt … different than it had done before, scarred and wounded. But she was not so nervous now; a calm settled over her, and with that calm came authority over the power that had been bestowed on her whether she would or no. She was the Fall Maiden, and the magic of the Maiden — what remained — would respond to her.

The dog came, responding to authoritative command. As Amber pulled her hand away from Dove and gripped her staff tightly in both hands, a wing of fire leapt up from and around her left eye.

Another flame, a little lick of flame, burned on the tip of her staff.

Still, Lyra played her lovely harp.

Amber and Dove charged forth. They made no sound, neither of them shouted a loud war cry, they just charged towards the nearest grimm, to finish them before they could finish anyone else.

Her lessons with the staff pounded like a drumbeat in Amber's mind as she approached a group of snarling beowolves. As she closed, the first one swiped at her with a paw larger than her head; Amber slowed a little, but not completely; she slid forwards upon her armoured boots, leaning back to duck beneath the swiping stroke before she hit the beowolf with the end of Sapphire hard enough to make its head whip around. She drew back her staff and used it like a spear, thrusting the butt forward many times in quick succession, laying hit after hit upon the beowolf's unprotected chest as the howling beast recoiled before her. The sixth or seventh stroke finished it, and as its body toppled back and began to smoke, Amber whirled her staff around, letting fire rip from the tip to erupt outwards in a flaming shockwave. She spun upon her toe, cape whirling around her as she twirled, to unleash a second and even greater wave — careful not to hit Dove — to follow hard upon the first. Beowolves wilted before her flames. Amber spun her staff around before her so fast that it became a blur, gripping it in one hand before she thrust out her hand to unleash a gust of wind that sent beowolves flying backwards; when they slammed into the ground, the impact finished off what the flames had begun.

Dove had sought out the alpha of the group, the largest of the group and with the largest teeth and claws, yet when the beowolf brought one massive paw down, Dove took the blow upon his arm, bracing himself, quivering but not yielding. With his other hand, he drove his sword into the beowolf's chest all the way up to the hilt. He shot twice with the gun part of his gun sword, the bangs slightly muffled by being buried in the grimm itself.

Amber scowled as she slammed her staff into the back of the beowolf's leg hard enough to drive the grimm down to its knees on the ground. Dove twisted his sword, drew it out of the monster's chest, and with a single smooth stroke, cut off its head.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

They said nothing as they pushed onwards, into the dining hall. Amber set fires as she flung flames round; the fire that leapt from the tip of her staff did not just strike creeps or beowolves but the tables and benches as well, the seats where she had sat with all her friends beginning to burn, fire licking at the corners of the hall, smoke rising. But she killed the grimm. She and Dove killed the grimm together, so what did a little fire in an empty dining hall matter compared to that? She burned the grimm as they tried to rush in through the hole in the wall that the ursa had made, and then she and Dove were in amongst them; Amber lashed out with her staff, her body moving a lithely as a willow tree under a strong wind, weaving and swaying and staying out of the way of grimm paws and grimm teeth; Dove was more solid, and more stolid, enduring blows as though he felt them not — Amber would have to take more of the lead, to spare his aura — before making strong counterattacks, his sword thrusting in and out or slashing from side to side. Amber thrust with her staff in rapid blows that landed in close clusters, one after another, the way that Ozpin had taught her, or else she fought in more the fashion of her mother, clubbing grimm across the sides of their heads with her staff, driving them to the ground before hammering them upon their backs until the smoke began to rise. The tip of her staff was always aflame, the fire adding a touch to every stroke or blow, making the grimm howl just that little bit harder.

They killed the big ursa together. Dove led the way, drawing the grimm's attention, but as it raised a clawed paw, Amber loosed a little narrow jet of flame over Dove's head to strike the ursa in the eyes. The grimm recoiled, covering its bony face with one paw, flailing with the other, and as that paw flailed, Dove began to hack at it with his sword. Once, twice, three times, he hacked, his sword glimmering in the fires Amber had started, before he severed the paw and left only an ugly red stump in its place. The ursa roared as it dropped down onto its remaining three legs, presenting his spike-covered back and shoulders in place of its less well protected chest. Dove fell back a little as the ursa lunged for him, jaws open. Amber leapt over a smouldering table and assailed the ursa from its side, thrusting her staff forward in seven quick consecutive thrusts, then darting away, then stepping forth once more to swing Sapphire into the ursa's hind leg.

The ursa turned her head towards her, but as it did, Dove returned to the fray, slicing into the ursa's neck.

The ursa roared and swung its head back around to bodily slam into Dove and knock him off his feet.

Amber jammed her staff into the black of the ursa's leg and let the flames engulf the wood and rush down towards the monster.

The ursa howled, mouth opening.

Dove rammed his sword into that same mouth, until his arm was in its maw up to the elbow.

But the ursa's bite did not close around his arm; rather, the ursa remained frozen, mouth agape, before its remaining legs gave way and it slumped to the ground. Ash and smoke began to rise from its remains.

Dove climbed, only a little unsteadily, to his feet. His blade hung by his side. "You … you stand on the verge of making me feel inadequate," he murmured.

Amber smiled, but only a little, to show she meant no mockery. "I would not be here if it weren't for you," she said. "I … I would have no will nor constant heart to fight were it not for you, is that not enough?" She paused. "But … guard yourself, I pray you, for my happiness."

Dove offered her a courtly bow from the waist. "How can I refuse such a fair request?"

Together, they fought their way north from the courtyard, across the edge of the fairgrounds, coming to the aid of civilians and students — including Tempest, whom Amber might rather have let the grimm devour except that if she did that, then who knew what might happen to her and to the bargain that she had made for her security? — alike, scything their way through the grimm as they came on. And as they fought, and as Amber's eye burned with the magic that remained to her, all the remnants of the fear that bound her like chains, that clung to her like cold, shattered and melted away into nothingness.

I can kill! She thought. I can kill as well as you can, Ruby! Or Pyrrha or Sunset or any of you! I don't have to be afraid of Cinder anymore!

I'm not afraid anymore!

I'll take my freedom, and no one will stop me. Even if you come after me, Ruby, I won't yield to you. I won't let anyone stand in my way.

No one will ever bind me again.

She could fight. She could protect herself, and Dove, and anyone she chose. Let Ozpin send hunters after her if he wanted to; she'd fight them too.

She could fight if she had to, and she would if she needed to.

With Dove beside her, she could do anything.

And with Dove beside her, and with Lyra's music and destiny itself driving her on, she fought all the way across the face of the advancing grimm, across the fairgrounds, relieving the pressure for a little while and only stopping her rampage when she reached the farm.

The farm where they had all gone on that night, after everyone had taken Amber into Vale, when they had all been together and talked about … everything and nothing and what the future might hold. When she had dreamed of visiting Mistral with Team SAPR and Penny.

That future would never be now. She would never see Mistral, certainly not in the company of Pyrrha and the others, but the Beacon farm was still here, and the chickens clucked and waddled about within their pen as though nothing at all was amiss, as though the world was carrying on just as it always had, in complete ignorance of all that had occurred and all that was occurring not so far away.

The goat raised its head, baaed at the group, and then lay down again.

Of course, grimm didn't trouble animals; neither the goat nor the chickens would be in any danger from a beowolf, unless they picked a fight, and why should they do that? They were very fortunate, and they didn't even realise how lucky they were.

Amber rested the butt of her staff on the grass and leaned on Sapphire for a moment, as the fire faded from around her eye. She felt rather tired, and though she hoped that her breath and strength would return shortly, right now, she could use a moment to rest.

"Are you alright?" Dove asked solicitously.

"I will be," Amber assured him. Dove, she thought, could also use a little respite to recharge his aura, although she did not say so.

Lyra let the music die. "That was," she began, "that was incredible! I see what you mean, Bon Bon, that was amazing! That wasn't dust you were using, was it? For the fire? Or the wind? Some people might think it was, I suppose, but from where I was standing … where was the dust? It wasn't on your staff, not the way you were using it; you don't have a sleeve to hide dust up, so where was it?"

Amber took a deep breath. "There is no dust, it is as you say," she said softly. "I am … empowered. It's why Ozpin wants to keep me under his control. And why I must buy my liberty with something of great value, else my powers make me too valuable to be allowed to go quietly into peace."

Lyra bit her lip for a moment. "I see," she muttered. "But, all the same, you did the right thing here, as well as the cool thing." She paused for a moment. "What now?"

"Now, as impressive a display as that was," Tempest said as she emerged out of the darkness, "we need to go, before someone comes looking for you, or my teammates realise that I wasn't devoured by beowolves." She paused. "This was an unwise move."

"It was the right thing to do," Lyra declared.

Tempest glanced at her. "And who are you?"

"She's a friend," Amber said, taking a step forward because she wasn't afraid of Tempest anymore either. "She's my friend."

Tempest looked down at her. "I see," she said softly. "And your minder?"

"She … you don't have to worry," Amber replied.

Tempest nodded. Perhaps she thought that Ruby was dead; if she thought that, then Amber wasn't going to correct her. There was a part of her that still wished Ruby was dead, nasty girl. If she came after Amber, then Amber was prepared to fight her now, fight her and kill her, but that being the case, why not kill her now and get it over with?

Because Dove wouldn't like it. Because Dove didn't want it.

Because Dove is an honourable man, and because he likes Ruby.

But if she came for me, he would choose me over her; once more, he would; I have won him back.

"We should go," Tempest said. "Now."

"But the grimm are still coming!" Lyra protested.

"It wouldn't be much of a distraction if they weren't," Tempest replied sharply.

"People are still in danger," Lyra said. "If Amber leaves now, then what was the point?"

Tempest didn't reply; Lyra was answered instead by the sound of explosions in the sky above and the whine of airship engines. Faces and eyes were turned towards the heavens, to where airships, the fat and bulbous-looking Atlesian transports, were descending from the Amity Arena, escorted by the smaller, blockier Atlesian fighters. Both kinds of airship were firing at the grimm as they descended, with guns and lasers and missiles fired from the noses of the transports.

"Reinforcements," Tempest muttered. "They must be bringing the students down from Amity to join the battle." She returned her attention to Amber. "Now do you see? You can skip away with a clear conscience knowing that Rainbow Dash and all the rest are coming with enough warm bodies to hold off the grimm and make sure none of the ungrateful populace gets hurt — they'll all be around to sneer at the wounded and turn their backs on them tomorrow morning, I guarantee it — or you can stay and see what happens when Pyrrha Nikos and the rest catch up with you."

She made a very good point. Several good points, actually. If she left now, she would hardly be leaving people in the lurch; everyone was coming down from the Colosseum, and protecting people was what they were trained for. More importantly, it was what they wanted to do; Amber had never wanted any part of this, but everyone else had chosen to come to this school. So why shouldn't she put down the burden for them to take up? Taking it up was their dream and goal, while to her, it was nothing but a burden.

And if she did not go, well, they would doubtless be looking for her.

Best to slip away quietly, if she could.

"Alright," she said, "let's go." To Dove and Lyra she added, "It will be alright now, I'm certain. Now that Pyrrha and Penny and the rest are coming, these people have nothing to worry about."

"I think we might be getting everyone out of here soon," Rainbow observed. "Most of the grimm seem to have been taken care of."

Blake, standing beside her on the docking platform, nodded. "Makes you wonder what the point was."

Rainbow frowned a little. "To kill us all?" she suggested. "To provide cover for the Valish ship to try and sucker punch us? Both?"

"Perhaps," Blake murmured. She glanced behind her. Civilians were few and far between on the Promenade now, with most of them having retreated down into the interior corridors, but it was as though Blake could see them in her mind's eye, waiting in the corridors and the break rooms. "Although, where are people going to go? Can they really go back to Vale?"

Rainbow didn't reply straight away; they'd heard the news from Vale while they waited up here: grimm cultists, martial law, it sounded as though the city was kind of in chaos. It sounded as though their problems with the Valish Defence Force weren't over just because their destroyer and fighters had been taken out.

It didn't sound like the kind of place you could just drop civilians into and say 'well, best of luck!'

"I'm sure," she began, "that the General has a plan to deal with this. I mean," — she lowered her voice, just in case — "it's not like he didn't know this might be coming, right? I'm sure there's a plan to retake Vale and make the city safe. And in the meantime, people can wait at Beacon. It's probably more comfortable than getting stuck up here." She ventured a smile. "They can all get dinner at Benni Haven's while they wait."

Blake's eyebrows rose. "That's a lot of dinners."

"Well, it is their busiest time of the year, right?" Rainbow replied.

Whether Blake might have had a response to that or not, she got no chance to give it as Twilight's voice floated out over the intercom. "Rainbow Dash to the information desk, Rainbow Dash to the information desk, thank you."

Rainbow glanced at Blake. She started towards the desk, with Blake silently falling in behind her as they strode across the Promenade. Weiss, standing with Team WWSR not far away, followed them with her eyes for a moment, before she began to follow them with her feet also, leading her team in their footsteps.

There seemed to be fewer children around the information desk, but Pinkie still had a few children to entertain. She had a rubber chicken out as Rainbow and the others walked by. It flopped about by the neck in her grasp as she waved at Rainbow and Blake.

Rainbow waved back as she walked to the desk. She leaned on it, looking down at Twilight and Fluttershy. "Hey, is everything okay?"

"It's the General," Twilight said softly, holding up her scroll.

Rainbow took it, then put it down on top of the desk. She was conscious of Blake silently leaning in towards her, their shoulders touching.

"Sir?"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "I wasn't sure if this would be a bad time."

"The fighters have done most of the work for us, sir," Rainbow replied. "Blake is here too."

"Sir."

"Belladonna," General Ironwood said. "I don't know how much you're aware of, but Vale is in chaos right now. There are blackouts, reports of fights between police and grimm cultists all over the city, and General Blackthorn threatening to shoot people on the streets. To make matters worse, Beacon has just come under attack."

"Beacon!" Blake exclaimed. "How?"

"Grimm are scaling the cliffs in conjunction with assault from the air," General Ironwood explained. "The remaining students on the ground are attempting to mount a defence, but a number of them had already been sent into Vale to assist in restoring order to the city; Professor Goodwitch was with them."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow muttered. It was starting to become clear now: hit Amity to try and take out a lot of huntsmen and huntresses, stir up trouble in Vale to pull huntsmen away from Beacon, then hit Beacon last of all. It was why it had been done this way, one step at a time.

It still wasn't good for them that their attack on Amity had failed, that … that was looking like their saving grace, that the enemy had so drastically underestimated Atlesian airpower.

Because the number of huntsmen they had managed to pull away to Vale could now be replaced by a mighty fist dropping out of the sky.

"Sir," she said, "there are a lot of us here, and—"

"I'm ahead of you, Dash; I need you to take as many of the students as are prepared to fight down to Beacon to reinforce the school. Leave a small group to hold the arena. Our primary objective is to safeguard the evacuation of civilians up from Beacon to Amity Arena."

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Did you just say ‘up to Amity Arena,’ sir?”

“I did, Dash,” General Ironwood said. “Beacon isn’t safe for them, and Vale certainly isn’t safe, but with the skies cleared, Amity is safe, and we should be able to keep it that way for the duration of this battle. So that’s what we’re going to do: keep the civilians up on the Colosseum until the battle is done and they can be removed, hopefully to Vale.”

“A lifeboat, sir,” Dash murmured.

“Exactly,” General Ironwood replied.

“That might not be popular,” Blake pointed out. “And what about food?”

“I’m afraid they’ll just have to manage with what’s available on the arena,” General Ironwood said. “Perhaps, once Beacon has been secured, some food can be brought up to them from there, but it’s not our priority.”

“But once Beacon—” Blake began.

“Even after it’s been secured, there’s no guarantee that it won’t come under attack again,” General Ironwood pointed out. “Everyone will be safest up in the sky.”

“Yes, sir,” Blake said softly. “Understood.”

“What about Lady Belladonna, sir?” asked Rainbow. “What about Councillor Cadenza?”

There was a moment’s pause from the General before he replied. “Leave them on Amity as well,” he said. “They’ll be safer there than aboard the Valiant if I have to take her into battle. I’m sure the Councillor will understand. Belladonna, try and impress on your mother—”

“I’m sure that Mom won’t have a problem with it,” Blake assured him. “She probably would have hated the idea of getting special treatment.”

“Sir,” Rainbow said. “What’s the status of Ruby and Amber?”

“Unknown. I’m afraid that I haven’t had the chance to check up on your friends, Dash,” General Ironwood replied, a little testiness creeping into his voice.

Rainbow winced. Of course, General Ironwood wasn’t alone on the bridge; all the officers could hear him, and they didn’t know why Amber was so important. It had been a mistake for her to ask.

But the General’s answer had told her something important, even if it did make her look self-centred: they hadn’t heard from Ruby or Amber. That was good to know.

She didn’t ask about Team TTSS; she could only imagine that they were in the thick of things right now. Rainbow hoped that Trixie and Starlight remembered to watch their back around Tempest, as awful as it was to think that way about a fellow Atlesian.

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “What about air support?”

“I’ve ordered a Skybolt squadron to commence strafing the cliffs and cut off the grimm reinforcements,” General Ironwood replied. “But close air support is out while there are still civilians in the zone.”

“Understood, sir,” Rainbow said. “Can I recommend drop sites?”

“Go on.”

“The skydocks, the courtyard, and the fairgrounds, sir,” Rainbow said. “Three zones, in more or less equal strength.”

There was a moment of pause before the General said, “Vey well. The pilots will be instructed to take their lead from you.”

“Thank you, sir!” Rainbow exclaimed. “We’ll get it done; you can rely on us.”

“I know I can,” General Ironwood said. “Watch each other’s backs out there.”

“Always, sir,” Blake replied.

“Then go to it,” General Ironwood commanded. “The airships will be there shortly. Ironwood out.”

Twilight’s scroll went dark.

Rainbow breathed out as she nudged the scroll back in Twilight’s direction. “Thanks, Twi.”

“Anytime,” Twilight said. She almost smiled. “Check you out, getting to order the pilots around.”

“Yeah, well…” Rainbow muttered. She pushed herself off the desk. “I mean … under the circumstances—”

“Finding a little thing to take pride in can’t hurt,” Blake pointed out. “Congratulations.”

“…thanks,” Rainbow said and allowed herself a second to grin and take a degree of pride in the fact that she was being given this opportunity.

That she was trusted for this. It was responsibility, sure, but it was also an honour.

She allowed herself a second, at most, before the smile faded from her face. “Right, time to break the news. Twilight, can I have the microphone?”

“How do you think people will take it?” Twilight asked.

“Not great,” Rainbow said. “But as long as they don’t panic so much that they draw another wave of grimm, I think we should be okay.” She paused. “I mean, are you gonna be okay? Staying up here, I mean?”

“Where all the grimm aren’t?” Twilight asked. “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

“Fluttershy?” Rainbow asked, looking in her direction.

“I don’t think that there’s a lot of choice, is there?” Fluttershy asked. “Which means the real choice is whether to make the best of it or not, which is always the right choice to make.”

“Are you really coming up with these spontaneously or do you write them down in advance?” Rainbow asked teasingly. She shook her head, marshalling her words. “Okay, Twi, put me on.”

Twilight nodded. The fact that she didn’t say anything was a sign that the next words would be broadcast all over the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rainbow said, and sure enough her words emerged out of the intercom all over the promenade, all over the arena. “Huntsmen and huntresses. You’ll all be glad to hear that, thanks to our Atlesian pilots, the grimm — and any other dangers — have been driven away from the Amity Arena. The sky around Amity is clear.”

Since that was the good news, she paused for a second to let it sink in. She could hear a cheer going up from somewhere around the Promenade.

“Unfortunately,” she went on, raising her voice a little bit to be heard in case anyone else was celebrating, “for those of you who haven’t had your eyes glued to your scroll, it is my duty to inform you that while we’ve been up here, both Beacon and Vale have come under assault. Grimm have scaled the cliffs and gained the grounds of Beacon as well as the skies over the school, while in Vale, the situation is very confused: power stations are under attack, and the military has declared martial law. In light of this, General Ironwood believes that it is impossible to move you anywhere safer than you are now, and so I have to ask for you all to remain calm and stay where you are for now. I know that that isn’t the news that you wanted to hear, and I know that I said that you’d be getting out of here, but that was when I assumed that Beacon would be a safe destination, and then Vale after that. Things have changed. Things have changed so much that we’re actually going to be moving people from Beacon up here where it’s safer, so although the Promenade is now safe to come out, can you please bear in mind that there will be other people joining you shortly?

“I really am sorry about this. On behalf of Atlas, I apologise. I’m sure that some of you are probably getting hungry, and so if anyone would like to get the hotdog stand and the coffee shop and anything else like that up and running again, I’m sure that everyone else would appreciate that a lot.” She took a breath. “I’m sure that some of you are probably scared. Maybe you have friends or family down in Vale or at Beacon. All I can say to that is that there is already a party of huntsmen and huntresses on their way into Vale to assist the police, and we’re going to do everything that we can for Beacon.

“This is for the huntsmen and huntresses: anyone who is willing to drop down and join the defence of Beacon, regroup in the arena, and I’ll outline the mission plan and assign companies. If you aren’t willing, then stay here and guard the arena and everyone on it until this battle is over.

“To everyone else: please be patient and trust us. We’ve won the first stage, and we’re not about to stop now.”

She stepped away from the microphone.

Blake put a hand on Rainbow’s shoulder and nodded.

Rainbow started in the direction of the nearest tunnel that led to the arena. Blake followed, as did Weiss and the rest of Team WWSR. And other students, too, began to make their way off the promenade back towards the battlefield, most of the ones who had come down into the battlefield to fight in the first place.

Nevertheless, Rainbow Dash made it back there first, passing through the dark tunnel and into an arena that was a lot more badly damaged than it had been when she’d left it; something had blown a chunk out of the ceiling and scattered debris all around — and when Rainbow looked more closely at some of that debris, she realised that the something that had caused the explosion had been an Atlesian airship. There were claw marks in the metal floor, and dents; parts of the stands looked as though they’d been torn to shreds.

It was unfortunate that this wouldn’t be a fit place for the civilians to spill once they started evacuating them from Beacon, although some of the stands looked a little less torn up than others.

People would have to make do, she supposed.

Team SAPR — three quarters of the new Team SAPR, anyway — were waiting amidst the torn up battlefield, and all three of them rushed towards Rainbow as she came in. Their eyes were wide with shock, their mouths open with concern.

“Is it true?” Penny asked. “Is Beacon under attack?”

“What’s happened to Amber?” asked Pyrrha.

“Have you heard anything from Ruby?” demanded Jaune.

“Yes, no, and no,” Rainbow said quickly, and in a quiet voice as more people followed her inside. “But when we get on the ground, I need you three to find Amber and make sure that she gets on an airship back here unless Professor Ozpin tells you something different, then do that.” She wasn’t sure if Professor Ozpin would have any special plan for Amber in this circumstance — maybe he had an airship standing by to fly her somewhere else even safer than Amity — but if he did, then he could tell Team SAPR that himself, assuming that he hadn’t already just bundled her and Ruby aboard by now. If not, then if the Amity Colosseum was safe enough for everyone else, then it was probably safe enough for Amber too right now.

She didn’t bother to ask if Team SAPR was coming down to join the fight; she took that as going without saying.

Penny nodded. “And then … once she’s here … should we stay with her?”

Rainbow didn’t reply, although it was a good question. The fact that it was a good question made it a hard one to answer: should they stay with Amber, or was the fact that she was up in the sky protection enough?

Rainbow couldn’t help think that the right answer was, in fact, stay with Amber, but at the same time, that would mean Team SAPR sitting out the rest of the fight, which might be … well, it might be hard for some people to understand, to say nothing of how they might feel about it themselves.

“You’ll have to use your own judgement on that one, Penny, 'cause I don’t know,” Rainbow said, taking the coward’s way out. “Welcome to being team leader.”

“Thank you,” Penny murmured, not sounding very grateful.

By now, other teams were arriving in the arena, stepping lightly around the rubble and the wreckage and the flames to fill up the open space that remained: WWSR, YRN, SSSN — Sun had rejoined his teammates, presumably because Lady Belladonna didn't seem to be in much danger at the moment — ABRN, FNKI, Rarity, Ciel, Maud Pie too.

"Maud?" Rainbow asked.

"Applejack can keep an eye on everyone up here," Maud said in her usual subdued voice. She paused for a moment. "Starlight's down there, right?"

Rainbow nodded. "That's right."

"Then I'd like to help," Maud replied.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed a little. "Do you have your weapons?"

Maud raised her hands. "I have two weapons right here," she said in a voice of absolute serenity.

Rainbow snorted. "Okay then, welcome aboard."

She looked around, surveying who had come and who had not; there was still not much sign of a Shade Academy presence, outside of Team UMBR and a couple of other teams who had answered her call the first time. Rainbow still couldn't blame them too much: it wasn't their fight, and just as importantly, it wasn't their way of fighting. If the Vacuan way was to sit on this arena and wait for the whole thing to blow over, then … more power to them, she supposed. They'd all be alive come morning, and it seemed they wouldn't even think badly of themselves for it.

But it was lucky for Beacon that the other schools didn't feel the same way, and most of the students who had answered the call to defend the arena had now come back, ready to drop down into Beacon. As she looked around, the only notable absentees that Rainbow could see were Team JAMM of Haven and half of Team BALL of that same school, the latter having a very good excuse.

Although, if Team SABR had stayed behind, maybe it would have been better.

"Sabine—" Rainbow began.

Sabine put one hand upon her hip. "We're not staying here tending to cuts and bruises while a battle's raging down below, Dash," she declared flatly, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Get General Ironwood to send a medical team up here to take care of people."

Rainbow raised one hand. "Okay," she said. "Okay."

She paused for a moment. Team JAMM and the Shade students, and Applejack, and Shining Armor. That should be enough to defend Amity now, shouldn't it? To protect Cadance and Lady Belladonna and the kids.

And the airships.

Yeah. Yeah, that should be fine. I don't need to assign anyone else to defend the arena.

I don't need to leave anyone behind.

"Okay," she said for the third time, raising her voice. "Everyone, listen up. The airships are already on their way, so I'll be quick. The situation is as you already heard: grimm are attacking Beacon by air and land; they're attacking in numbers, they're advancing against limited opposition, and close air support is out until all civilians have been evacuated from the combat zone. This will not be easy.

"But just because it's difficult doesn't mean that it can't be done. Already, Atlesian Skybolts are pounding the grimm at the base of the cliffs to try and cut off their reinforcements; that will reduce the numbers that we have to deal with when we get down there, and our fighters will escort us down and take control of the skies the way they have up here. All we have to do is secure three locations: the docking pads, the courtyard, and the fairgrounds, as well as maintaining connective routes between the three. That's why we will drop in three companies: Yang, you'll lead Alpha Company to secure the docks; I'll lead Bravo Company dropping into the courtyard; and…" Rainbow paused for a second. She thought it was probably important to pick a Haven student to lead the last group — Mistralians were a touchy lot, after all, very proud, and they might take offence at having multiple Beacon or Atlas students chosen while they were passed over — but she didn't really know that many Haven students, and the one she knew best, Sun, didn't strike her as well suited to this, no offence to him. Pyrrha's friend Arslan was a celebrity, and people might follow her for that reason alone, but Rainbow wasn't sure how much of a leader she was. "Violet Valeria," she said, naming the leader of Team VLCA; it was true that Rainbow didn't know much about her, but she was a second-year, and she'd gotten her team through the four-on-four round, so she couldn't be terrible. "You'll lead Charlie Company, dropping into the fairgrounds. Each group will have two objectives: to secure the area, if necessary by pushing beyond them to deny the grimm an approach, and to make a link to the other nearest objective or objectives. So, when all objectives are met, we will have established a safe chain to pass civilians from the fairground to the courtyard to the docking pads where the airships will be waiting to take them up here to Amity.

"That's all we have to do: three locations and connective tissue. If we can do that and hold that ground, then we can get everyone evacuated, and once that's done, then our airships rain fire down on the grimm from above, and we can mop up the rest of them.

"If we do this right, if we succeed, then everyone currently down at Beacon will be gotten away safely and will take refuge here until the battle is over and order is restored to Vale. If we don't do this, then there will be a massacre.

"But I know you won't let that happen. Any questions?"

Weiss raised her hand. Rainbow might not have seen it if she hadn't been so close by. "When you say 'push forward'—?"

"What I mean is that it will be easier to secure the courtyard if we also control the surrounding buildings," Rainbow explained. "Otherwise, while we might technically hold the courtyard, grimm could jump out at us from the top windows of the dorms or something. And of course, Alpha will need to push towards the courtyard even while Bravo pushes back to the dockyards. But no one should overextend themselves, no one should go running off chasing the grimm towards the cliffs; that's not our mission. We take and hold what we need to to pass the tourists out, nothing more, not until the evacuation is complete."

"What about the other flank?" asked Umber.

"Yeah," Yang added. "What about Benni Havens'?"

"It's too far away; we don't have enough people to hold it and all the space between there and the courtyard," Rainbow replied. "Not to mention, it's the farthest point from the cliffs; the grimm probably aren't heading in that direction, and anyone there can evacuate down the road to Vale." She paused. "We can't try and reoccupy the whole school, not at once; we don't have the numbers."

Yang didn't look thrilled by that answer, but she didn't contradict Rainbow or press the argument either. Rainbow was free, then, to assign companies: she gave her own Bravo Company Team SAPR, at least nominally, while more actually giving herself Team WWSR, SABR, ABRN, and UMBR; to Yang and Alpha Company, she assigned Team FNKI and Team CFVY; to Violet and Charlie Company, she assigned Team SSSN and the remaining half of Team BALL. Overall, she weighted the numbers a little in favour of Bravo Company, which not only had to cover the courtyard and the surrounding buildings, but also push outwards towards both the docking pads and the fairgrounds, in contrast to Alpha and Charlie which both only had to push towards the courtyard. Thus, she tried to get an even split between those two companies, although she suspected that in numbers terms, Yang might end up with the short end of the stick, since both Bravo and Charlie could expect to be swelled by the huntsmen and huntresses already down at Beacon fighting the grimm, which Yang couldn't really count on. On the other hand, you could also say that she had the easiest job, since few grimm could have gotten to the docking pads yet, so it all balanced out.

"Okay," she said, when she'd assigned all of the teams. "When you mount your Skyray, just tell the pilot where you want to go, and they'll drop you off. Let's move out!"

They headed out, just as they had headed out once before, swarming through the shady tunnels and out, only this time, the Promenade wasn't completely blocked off by a squeeze of frightened people waiting for skybuses that weren't coming. Now, though there were still some forlorn and abandoned balloons floating near the ceiling, the few people who had emerged back out onto the Promenade were watching from a respectful distance as Skyrays landed on all the intact docking pads.

The doors slid open in expectation of their charges.

The various teams of huntsmen and huntresses split up, choosing Skyrays based on other teams in their company or, in some cases, getting Skyrays all to themselves. Rainbow chose one of the nearest airships, with the word 'Foehammer' painted on the nose. She was followed there by Blake, Ciel, Rarity, Maud, and Team SAPR; there would still be plenty of room.

Rainbow was the first one in, leaping up and moving briskly into the cockpit. "Hey," she said to the pilot and copilot. "I'm Rainbow Dash; thanks for the lift."

"The General says we're to take you where you want to go," the pilot, a woman of indeterminate age whose features were hidden behind her helmet and visor. "So where do you want to go, kid?"

"Beacon courtyard," Rainbow said. "As close to the statue as you can manage."

"Copy that," the pilot said. "You might want to man the guns; it could get hot on the way down."

"Understood," Rainbow said as she left the cockpit and left the pilots to it. "Blake, Ciel, man the guns," she said, as everyone else mounted up. "Everybody else, hold onto something."

She reached up and grabbed one of the loops that hung down on a rail running the length of the main compartment. Rarity, Maud, Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha all did likewise, forming a rough line moving towards the back of the airship, while Blake and Ciel brought the twin rotary cannons down from the ceiling on their mountings and turned them to face outwards.

"Rainbow Dash," Blake said, pointing out towards the Promenade they had just left.

Rainbow looked and saw Lady Belladonna standing on the Promenade, with Cadance standing next to her and Shining Armor at his wife's side. Twilight and Applejack stood not far away, Applejack holding One in a Thousand loosely in both hands.

She touched the brim of her hat.

Rainbow grinned and gave her a quick salute with her fore and middle fingers, almost flicking it off her brow, touching the longest bang of her hair. Rarity blew them a kiss.

Lady Belladonna waved. "I love you!" she cried.

Blake smiled tightly. "I know, Mom," she said softly.

"Then perhaps you should say it louder, darling, as a suggestion," Rarity murmured.

The drone of the Skyray's engines grew louder as the airship began to lift off, forcing Blake to shout to be heard over them, but nevertheless she did shout, "I love you too!"

Lady Belladonna must have heard, for the engines were not so loud, nor Blake so quiet, but whether she heard or not, she kept on waving as the Skyray turned away from them and dipped out of sight as it began to descend on Beacon.

Pyrrha held on to the ceiling strap with one hand as, with her other hand, she put her scroll away. "No answer from Amber or Dove."

"Or Ruby," Jaune added, from behind her.

"Perhaps," Penny said, "they're too busy to respond." She paused. "That's not very comforting, is it?"

Not in the circumstances, no, although Pyrrha saw no point in saying that to Penny, who seemed to have worked it out for herself; it would have seemed petty and unkind to have rubbed it in. Still keeping one hand on the ceiling strap, she turned around as best she could to look at Jaune and Penny behind her. "Might they have joined the battle, do you think? With so many people in danger, it would be Ruby's instinct."

"Ruby would want to go and fight, sure," Jaune said, looking around at Penny before looking back at Pyrrha. "But she wouldn't put Amber at risk; she knows…" He trailed off; after all, not everyone in the airship knew what Amber was or what was at stake. "She wouldn't put Amber at risk," he said again. "And Amber wouldn't want to fight, would she?"

Pyrrha thought; although Amber had demonstrated that she knew a little of fighting, it was hard to imagine her actually wishing to put that knowledge to use. She was so frightened; surely, her instinct would be to get as far away as possible.

"No," she agreed. "No, she wouldn't."

"And Ruby wouldn't leave Amber undefended," Jaune declared. "It'll be killing her not to fight, but she'll have stuck with Amber. Wherever they are, they're together."

"Alright then," Penny said. "Where shall we find them?"

Neither Jaune nor Pyrrha said anything, not for a few moments.

"Is this something I have to decide?" Penny asked. She frowned. "You deserve a team leader who knows what they're doing at a time like this."

"You're doing fine, Penny," Pyrrha assured her. "And we would help you, gladly, if … I fear there is no easy answer to the question." She paused a moment. "Professor Ozpin might be our best chance of finding out where they have gone; Ruby might have taken Amber to him when the battle started, seeking either a safe refuge or instructions as to what to do next."

"Then why aren't any of them answering their scrolls?" Jaune asked. "If they're safe, if they're in Professor Ozpin's office drinking hot cocoa waiting for all this to blow over, then why don't they pick up? Why doesn't Professor Ozpin tell us where to find them?"

"You make a good point," Pyrrha murmured. "But where, then? You yourself said that Ruby would not take Amber into battle."

"Perhaps they stayed in the dorm room," Penny suggested. "Or at least left a note to say where they were going."

"I can't imagine them sitting tight while all this happened," Jaune replied. "But I admit that I can't think where they might have gone, either. They might have taken the Vale road south then east, but again, why not answer if they went that way? Unless a battle found them, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it."

"If it did, then … then they'll be okay," Penny declared. "They're all strong in their own way; they'll be fine." She paused. "I think that we should check the dorm room first; it's closest to where we'll be landing, so it won't take long. Then, if we don't find them, or anything that tells us where they went, we'll go to the CCT and see if Professor Ozpin knows anything. And if he doesn't, then … then we'll search the whole school, and if we still don't find them, we'll search on the road towards Vale."

Pyrrha nodded. "A sound plan."

"The best we can come up with," Jaune murmured.

None of their Atlesian friends or comrades said anything; either they thought that it was none of their business, even Rainbow Dash and Blake, or else they didn't understand enough of what the three of them were discussing to comment. Or perhaps they were just naturally taciturn. Or perhaps, and perhaps most likely, they were preoccupied with their own concerns and with the battle that awaited them on the ground below.

Atlesian fighters zoomed past the open hatches on either side of the airship, and when they passed, Pyrrha could see the other Skyrays on either side of them, the small armada of airships carrying the students down from the Amity Arena to Beacon. They were quite different from the bunting-adorned skybuses in which they had ridden up this morning, but then, these were quite different circumstances, weren't they?

Below, but getting louder, Pyrrha could hear the screeching of nevermores and griffons. She could hear the rattle of machine guns, and out of the side hatches, she could see some of the other airships, lower than their own, already firing their own rotary cannons out of the side hatches, although what they were firing at, she couldn't see.

But she imagined the flying grimm just below them, bobbing and weaving through the dark sky, rising up from terrorising the poor people on the ground to intercept the reinforcements before they could land and join the battle.

An explosion beneath them made the Skyray shake, but what had made the explosion, Pyrrha could not say.

"Just a little turbulence, that's all," Rainbow said.

It was not a little turbulence that attacked the Skyray closest to them on the left-hand side; it was a nevermore that erupted up into the view from below to assail the other airship from the front, digging its claws through the windows and into the cockpit.

Blake opened fire with her rotary cannon, the barrels whirring as they spat bullets into the nevermore's black body. For a few seconds, the grimm clung on, enduring the fire, its talons jammed inside the airship, its black wings half engulfing it. Then it let go, releasing the airship and flying upwards — only to rain an almost spiteful shower of feathers down upon the Skyray from above, slamming into the fuselage and piercing the engine on the right wing. Flames began to billow out of the engine as the plane began to drop, nose downwards, heading straight for the ground.

There was another explosion, and their own airship jerked alarmingly, throwing everyone sideways — and 'thrown' would have been right if anyone had had a less than secure grip on the ceiling strap; Pyrrha's feet left the ground for a second as the Skyray tilted, legs pointed towards the open hatch and empty air beneath, and when the airship righted itself again, there wasn't anyone aboard who hadn't been knocked askew by the experience. Jaune was holding onto the strap with both hands now, as was Rainbow's friend Rarity. Blake had wide eyes and was breathing heavily.

An Atlesian fighter flew in front of them, laser blasting away at some unseen target.

Out of the right-hand hatch, Pyrrha saw a Skyray explode, the whole airship consumed by a fireball, with no sign of any survivors.

"Gods," Jaune muttered.

How many people were onboard that airship? Pyrrha thought. To what school will they fail to return? From what tower will they watch for their coming? In what kingdom will they weep for them? And how many tears?

"May the Lady speak with grace and eloquence on their behalf, that they be judged not justly, but with mercy," Ciel murmured.

There are times when I envy you your faith, Pyrrha thought. It seems so warm and comforting. My own faith has a rather cold embrace by comparison.

Perhaps I should pray to the old gods of Mistral.

But how can I, when I know that they are not, and never were?

Ciel opened fire upon a griffon that was coming close, but as soon as Ciel started to shoot at it, the grimm darted away again, and Pyrrha lost sight of it in the dark.

They were getting lower now. Out of the left-hand hatch, Pyrrha could see the Emerald Tower; she half thought to see the emerald lights obscured by grimm flitting this way and that before them, but there were none. The lights burned unobscured, as though the emerald light itself kept the monsters at bay.

Then the lights were above them, and then so far above that they were out of sight as the airship began to descend increasingly rapidly.

The points of a flurry of feathers burst in from above, penetrating the ceiling, jamming into Rainbow's knuckles as she held onto the ceiling strap. Rainbow winced but didn't let go.

"Didn't hit any vital systems," the pilot called from the cockpit. "Nobody panic; we're almost there."

The airship began to rotate as it descended, turning so that, out of the left-hand hatch, Blake's hatch, Pyrrha could see the dorm room. She could see the roof on which she had first suggested that Jaune train with her, and Team WWSR's dorm room below that. The lights were off there. The lights were off everywhere in the building as the airship descended; no lights shone out of the windows or out of the shattered holes where the windows ought to have been. An ursa stuck its head through one such hole in the wall, but Blake opened fire on it, and it disappeared, either dead or retreated.

Pyrrha hoped that Ruby, Amber, and Dove had not remained in the dorm room. But Penny was right; it made sense as a place to start their search.

"This is it," Rainbow called out as the airship dropped so low that the statue was visible in the courtyard. "Go! Go! Go!"

They leapt from the airship. Pyrrha pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders and into her hand and onto her arm respectively as she descended the modest drop, her knees bending as she landed. Grimm and civilians mingled in the courtyard, but Pyrrha couldn't see any other huntsmen except for those who were dropping from the airships.

She threw Akoúo̱ at the closest grimm, a beowolf menacing some poor man in a Haven Academy t-shirt, and it decapitated the creature before her shield flew back onto her waiting, outstretched arm.

Pyrrha began to run towards the dormitory building, taking the lead and expecting Jaune and Penny to follow — after all, Penny had already issued their instructions. She heard gunfire as she ran, the booming of Rainbow's shotgun, the softer snapping sound of Blake's pistol, the immense thunderous report of Ciel's rifle, but she paid little attention to it, trusting them to take care of themselves, and of the courtyard, for that matter.

She — Team SAPR — had other concerns.

More beowolves barred her way, though Pyrrha could see the green bolts of Penny's lasers flying over her shoulder to assail the group even as Pyrrha charged them. Miló was in spear mode in her hand as she thrust it deep into the first beowolf's belly; as it died, Pyrrha whirled on her toes, sash spinning around her, and as she spun, she switched her weapon from spear to sword and slashed once, twice, three times across the chest of the beowolf before her fourth stroke took its head. A third beowolf lunged at her, crouched down low, jaws open; Pyrrha swayed her whole body away, letting those open jaws close upon empty hair before she rammed Miló up to the hilt in the grimm's neck. She threw Akoúo̱ at the alpha beowolf, her shield bouncing off the grimm's bony skull and back onto her arm even as it staggered the grimm. Pyrrha rushed and then dived forward, skidding along the ground between the alpha beowolf's legs to slash at both its ankles with swift slashing strokes, one before and one behind. The grimm went down as Pyrrha rose up, slashing once at the beowolf's neck — it was too thick to cut through — as she danced gracefully around the creature, Miló transforming back to spear in her hand before she rammed it into the beowolf's open mouth. She thrust the weapon home until she felt the point strike something hard and immovable.

Miló was still in the monster's gullet as she transformed it into rifle mode and fired a single shot.

The alpha beowolf fell over, dead.

Penny killed three more beowolves by skewering them all at once upon the blades of Floating Array, while Jaune encased the body of one of them in ice dust, giving him absolute freedom to cut off its head. When another came at him, he took its swiping claws upon his shield then slew it with a strong disembowelling blow across its belly.

The air still rang with gunfire as Pyrrha resumed her course — almost her charge with the speed she was moving, sash and hair flying out behind her like banners — across the courtyard, reaching the dormitory door. She didn't know if the ordinary lock was working or if it had been disabled, but the door opened when she kicked it.

The lights were off in the hallway and on the stairs. She couldn't see a single light on anywhere.

Pyrrha paused just a moment, to give Jaune and Penny a chance to catch up with her. Then, in a less headlong rush now, more slowly and more cautiously, she began to move forward.

The stairs creaked underfoot as she climbed them, and behind her too, as Jaune and Penny made the steps groan in their turn. Glancing up, Pyrrha could see two swords of Floating Array, both folded into their laser configuration, hovering over her head like guardian spirits. As she climbed the stairs, her watching swords turned in unison first to the left and then to the right, as though they were eyes and Penny could see out of them to glance in both directions before she went any further.

On the first floor landing, Pyrrha could see that doors had broken down, walls smashed, objects spilled out of dorm rooms and across the floor. There was blood on the carpet, although there was no sign as to whose blood it was; with good fortune, that meant they had escaped.

There was no sign of anyone else, nor sign nor sound of anything else, just the creaking of the stairs as they climbed up to the next floor.

On their floor, there was no sign of anyone either; it was as deserted as it had been downstairs, just the same evidence of destruction and devastation. Something had broken into Team YRBN's room, and a great quantity of sugary snacks and drinks bestrewed the corridor floor, some of said drinks leaking and staining the carpet.

Better that than blood.

Team SAPR's door had also been broken, ripped off its hinges, the letters that spelled out their team name scattered on the floor. The photo of their team at Benni Havens', taken in times so much simpler and happier than now, before she and Sunset had both contrived to fall out with Ruby, lay on the floor as well. Something had stepped on the frame, shattering it, spilling glass all over the crumpled photo.

Worse, it sounded like there was something still inside their room. Certainly Pyrrha could hear a rumbling coming from within.

She drew back Miló for an overarm thrust as she approached the broken doorway.

She stepped delicately over one of the white knights they had taken in the forest during Initiation; it looked as though something had chewed on it. As she shuffled forward, Pyrrha's foot bumped into another, smaller chess piece, one that Sunset had found during another trip into the forest, the one that had ended with them confronting Doctor Merlot on his island.

The floor of the dorm room itself was covered in the torn out pages of books, although which books, Pyrrha could not say because her attention was rather on the ursa that was standing in the closet doorway.

It was a young-ish ursa, judging by the lack of extravagant bone sticking out of the back which it presented to Pyrrha, but big enough for all that; it was having to hunch down in order to fit even halfway through the closet. It sounded as though it was eating something. It turned, banging its head — cracking the wall — at first, then managing to get around and show Pyrrha that it was munching on something far worse than Pyrrha's dresses.

Ruby's legs dangled out of the ursa's mouth; nothing above her skirt was visible; it disappeared down the creature's maw.

Pyrrha made a sound that mingled shriek and roar and outraged howl all at once. She threw Akoúo̱ across the room and charged after it herself; the shield struck the ursa in the belly, then rebounded off to slam into the wall and bury itself there, but by then, Pyrrha had already closed the distance and, with both hands, thrust her spear deep into the grimm's extended gut. Miló roared as she extended the spear out further into the grimm.

Pyrrha kept one hand upon Miló, but with her other, she grabbed one of Ruby's motionless legs and tried to pull her free from out of the ursa's jaws. The ursa bit down, holding on tightly as it flailed at her with its paws.

Jaune blocked the blow of one paw with his shield as he stepped up beside her, screaming in anger as he thrust Crocea Mors into the torso of the ursa time and time again. From the doorway, Penny did likewise, the blades of Floating Array flying across the room to rise and fall, rise and fall like the knives of the conspirators that strike a statesman down, piercing the ursa over and over again.

The grimm hung onto Ruby with its teeth.

Pyrrha drew Miló out and transformed her weapon fluidly into sword mode as she hacked down on the ursa's paw, severing it from its body in two strokes.

The ursa opened its mouth to roar in pain, and Pyrrha fell backwards as Ruby abruptly flew out of the creature's mouth and landed on top of her. Jaune stepped back, covering both of them with his shield.

The swords of Floating Array flew back to Penny, forming a tight ring in front of her as the blades retracted.

The tips of the carbines began to glow bright green.

The wounded ursa let out a mewling sound of confusion.

The laser blast consumed the ursa, causing everything above the belly to vanish along with the SAPR closet, a good deal of the contents, and parts of several walls behind running through the building.

As the remains of the ursa smoked, Penny folded her swords up behind her. "How is she? Ruby?!"

"I don't know," Pyrrha said, sitting up a little. Ruby was unconscious; she was alive — when Pyrrha held her vambrace up to her mouth, the metal misted up — but her eyes were closed, and there was no sign of her stirring.

Pyrrha turned her onto her side, face downwards, not pressed into the floor but positioned so that if she vomited or the like, she would not choke upon it.

"Ruby?" she said. "Ruby?"

There was no response. A frown creased Pyrrha's brow beneath her circlet. Yes, being eaten by a grimm had a paralysing effect — if you were unfortunate enough to be swallowed by one, you couldn't fight your way out again; someone else would have to act quickly to rescue you — but if you were rescued, then the paralysing effect wore off quite quickly; at least, that was Pyrrha's understanding — and her experience, with Sunset in Mountain Glenn.

Jaune sheathed his sword and knelt down over her. One hand glowed with the shimmering golden light of his semblance, but he said, "If her aura was broken, then that ursa would have bitten her in half, but she isn't even injured. Not a bite mark on her." His brow creased. "And how did one ursa — and that ursa wasn't that strong or that smart — get the drop on her enough to half eat her before we came along? How did it get the drop on all three of them? There's no way that thing ate Dove and Amber and then was onto Ruby without any of them doing anything to stop it. No way that happened."

"Then where are Amber and Dove?" asked Penny.

"Amber," Pyrrha whispered, with one hand stroking Ruby's cheek. Ruby's slumbering cheek. A chill dread stole over her. The memory of the first day of the tournament, just the day before yesterday, when they had all tested Penny's new semblance, and Amber … Amber had shown them her semblance.

Golden motes of light floating through the air, and a feeling of drowsiness.

No. No, it can't be. It can't, it … it just can't.

I cannot be, but I fear, I very much fear, I dread … what a fool I was, what fools we were.

Amber.

Pyrrha got to her feet. Though her legs trembled beneath her, though they felt like melted chocolate being held in place only by her armoured greaves and cuisses, or perhaps because they felt so weak, she rose nonetheless. She rose and almost staggered backwards, having to put one hand out to the wall for support.

"Pyrrha?" Penny asked, looking at her. "What's wrong?"

"Amber," Pyrrha whispered. "Amber did this. She has betrayed us all."

Author's Note

The very nice picture of Amber and Dove is by the talented Rainbow Zebra.

I really wanted to give Amber (and Dove, to a far lesser extent, but mostly Amber) a moment of heroism. While I think I've done a lot better in the rewrite at making Amber more three dimensional, a lot less hateable (well, before she betrayed everyone anyway, I think a lot of people still hate her now), the fact is that she still betrays everyone and joins the villains, but in spite of that I wanted to give her a moment where she rises above that and does the right thing, kind of shows that she could have been a decent Fall Maiden if the chips had fallen differently.

Also I wanted a moment with Dove and Amber as a battle couple of bring home the Arkos parallels one last time.

As for the rest of this chapter, I know that everyone finding out that Amber had betrayed them was something a lot of you were keen to see, and obviously the next chapter will continue to explore this a bit more. I thought that having them find Ruby asleep worked as a mechanism for Pyrrha to realise the truth, because they have seen Amber's semblance before and there's only so many things that could put Ruby to sleep beyond waking like this.

Command in the Courtyard (New)

Command in the Courtyard

Amber and her … her cohort, she did not like them all enough to call them friends, nor did she trust them all enough to call them her allies, but for better or worse, they were her companions, and as a group, they crept away from Beacon.

They were fortunate; it seemed that Pyrrha and Ciel and Penny and all the rest were not trying to retake the whole of Beacon in one fell swoop. Rather, they appeared only to be fighting in or around certain parts of the school. Amber could hear the gunfire, which was certainly louder than it had been when she had ventured out onto the field herself, but the firing and the sounds of battle were only coming from certain places, not everywhere. Amber and those who accompanied her had been able to pick a way through the grounds unseen, unnoticed, skirting grimm and students both alike.

Amber would be glad to be away from here, away from Beacon, away from the fighting that raged in other parts of the school — fighting that, with every gunshot, reminded Amber that this was her fault, her doing, that this was all for her benefit — and away especially from the tower, with those emerald lights that burned still, in spite of everything. Though on the ground, the dark was closing in, up above, the emerald lights yet burned against the darkness. Amber could not help but imagine Ozpin there, his eyes all-seeing, watching her.

Ridiculous, of course; Ozpin's eyes were not all-seeing; she could fill a book up with the things that he had failed to see: her first flight, Cinder's attempt on her life, her present … her present betrayal.

The emerald lights might burn atop the tower, but Ozpin's eyes were blind there.

Yet, nevertheless, she longed to be away from the lights.

It would not be long now. Soon, they would have reached the end of Beacon proper, the grounds of the school; they still needed to creep past Benni Havens', but after that, they could take the road south for a while. Tempest, leading the way, said she knew a place where they could hide, for a few hours at least, until it was time to return and get the Relic.

Some old house, apparently; Cinder had used it but had no more need of it now.

Amber didn't really want to stay somewhere lately inhabited by Cinder, but if it was only a few hours, then she would bear it.

The prize made such things worth it.

She wondered if they had started looking for her yet, or if they would not find her missing until the battle was done.

If they did look for her, then they might find Ruby sleeping, and since Amber had shown them her semblance, then they might work out that Amber was the one who had put her to sleep.

And then … then, they would keep looking for her, she supposed, and their chance of finding her would be just the same whether they sought her as friends or foes.

Although it might be better if some grimm ate the little beast — not that she would ever say so where Dove could hear her — to put off the moment when the truth came out.

Either way, the main thing right now was to come away from here.

They were almost away. Benni Havens' lay on their right as they crept through the dark, and as they passed by, Amber could not help but turn her head in the direction of the restaurant. It had not been destroyed; it didn't even look damaged. All the lights were on inside, casting a light out to illuminate the exterior, which didn't look to be in quite such good condition: a lot of the outdoor tables and chairs had been broken or knocked aside, and so had the fake stuffed grimm who had decorated the space.

But the building itself looked fine. That was … that was good. Dove, Lyra, Sunset, Pyrrha, they all seemed to have happy memories of the place, and though Amber had only been there once, that once had been a lovely evening.

It was good it had not been destroyed.

As they snuck by, using the dark to mask themselves from prying eyes, the door to Benni's was flung open, and a large form, silhouetted against the light from within, stood in the doorway.

"Okay, I know you're out there!" Benni yelled into the night. "How about you come out and we get this over with, huh?"

They heard the sound of a gun being cocked, or pumped, or whatever the right word was.

"Don't shoot!" Dove cried, holding out his hands as he stepped forward into the light. "Please, ma'am, don't shoot."

"Dove?" Benni asked. She stepped forward, out of the doorway, so that the light didn't conceal her face and features in silhouette as it had done. She held a double-barrel shotgun with a two-headed axe attached to the barrels, although she let the weapon fall to her side, holding it loosely in one hand. Her squirrel tail curled up behind her head. "Dove, is that you?"

Dove nodded. "It's me," he said. "I'm glad to see you're alright."

Benni laughed. "The grimm have had their chances to kill me; they didn't take 'em, but you!" She pulled Dove into a one-armed hug, pressing his head against her chest. "I'm glad to see you're okay, kid." She let him go. "But what are you doing here? Are you all by yourself?"

"No," Amber answered for him as she emerged out of the dark. "No, he's not alone."

Lyra, Bon Bon, and with the most reluctance, Tempest came to stand beside her.

"Lyra, Bon Bon, Amber, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Benni said softly. She glanced at Tempest. "I don't think we've met.”

"No, we haven't," Tempest said. She paused for so long that Amber thought that she was going to leave it at that, before she said, "Tempest. My name is Tempest."

"Nice to meet you; wish it were under better circumstances," Benni said. "I'm Benni; I run this place." She turned her attention back to Dove and the others. "What are you kids doing here? I mean, it's great to see you're all still kicking, but—"

"They're escorting me," Amber told her. "I … I'm not a huntress, not a fighter, I…" Amber looked down. The words came easily to her because there was so much truth in them. "I'm afraid. When the grimm came and everything started happening … I can't help, and I'd only get in the way, and I'm so frightened. Ozpin agreed to let my friends escort me somewhere safe."

“Right,” Benni replied. “I can’t blame you for being scared. It’s a scary time. To think that I’d live to see grimm in Beacon, gods, and be able to hear all my kids fighting right outside.” She paused. “Well, if you want to wait inside, I’ve already got a whole restaurant full of frightened people waiting for all this to blow over, so there’s room for the five of you as well. I tell you, I’d be making a fortune if I wasn’t so kindhearted as to feed them all for free.”

“Have you had any trouble with the grimm?” Dove asked. “I’m surprised all that fear isn’t drawing them.”

“I don’t think they’re coming this way,” Benni replied. “But if they do,” — she held up her shotgun — “I guess we’ll see if I’ve still got it.”

“It’s very kind of you to offer,” Amber said. “But we’re heading down the road, towards Vale.”

“Are you sure?” asked Benni. “Have you heard the news about what’s going on in Vale? Grimm cultists, power outages, General Blackthorn has declared martial law, and who knows where the Council is? Seriously, I think you’d be better off in here.”

“I … no,” Amber said, shaking her head. “As I say it … it’s very kind of you, but this place … it’s too close. I should like to get further away.”

Benni nodded slowly. “I guess I can understand that,” she said. “Well, if you want to take your chances in Vale, then I can’t stop you, but … be careful, okay. Take care…” She held out one arm, as though she wanted to hug someone, maybe even all of them, all of them except Tempest perhaps, the person that she didn’t know. Or perhaps even Tempest, too, unknown to her or not.

“I can’t really give you a hug while I’m holding this,” she said, “so just take care. Take care of each other. That’s all there is at the end of the day: just take care of one another. Take care and … wait right here a second; I’ll be right back.” She turned away and walked quickly back towards the door, disappearing through it back into the restaurant.

“We should leave before she comes back,” Tempest said.

“We can’t do that!” Lyra cried. “We have to stay and see what it is.”

“What it is might be calling Ozpin on us,” Tempest muttered.

“Benni wouldn’t do that,” Lyra insisted. “Benni’s our friend.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked Tempest.

“Yes!”

“Lyra’s right,” Amber said calmly. “She is a friend, of Lyra and Dove, and we’re going to stay and find out why she asked us to. She won’t be long.”

Indeed, she wasn’t long at all; it was minutes at most when Benni emerged again, with a brown paper bag slung under her arm and a cardboard box in her hand.

“Lyra, take this box, will you?” she asked.

Lyra took the box, at which point, Benni held out the bag to Amber.

“There’s some fries in here,” she said, as the smell of the chips wafted out of the bag and into Amber’s nostrils. “And in the box Lyra’s holding, there’s apple pie with some whipped cream. I would have given you ice cream, but I didn’t want it to melt. It’s just a little something for the road, in case you get hungry.”

Amber inhaled the smell of the chips she was holding; it would have smelled nice in many contexts, delicious and enticing, but at the moment, in the circumstances, it just made her feel a little ill. Sick to her stomach, in fact.

Tempest was right; we should have just gone.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“It’s nothing,” Benni said dismissively. “Listen, I don’t know what your plans are, but when all this blows over, I expect to see you all back here for at least one more meal to say a real goodbye, you hear me?”

“Of course,” Amber replied, Amber lied, Amber pretended that this wasn’t the last time they would ever see her. “Of course we will.”

Pyrrha would have sat down, had she felt as though the circumstances allowed it.

As things stood, it felt a little self-indulgent, and so she tried to remain on her feet for all that the ursa in the room, or even an ursa major, couldn’t have hit her harder than this revelation was hitting her right now.

Amber had betrayed them. Cinder had been right about her.

Cinder had been right about Amber.

It hardly seemed credible. Compare the two of them, and Amber and Cinder were, or seemed to be, Alcestis — daughter of the gods of the sky and wife to Theseus — to a boarbatusk. One was all goodness, all virtues, all sweetness and sweet things, engaging and delightful, the other … the other was all wrath, pride, and self-pity mingled in unlikeable concoction, all danger and foul scents and fouler tasting things besides. Cinder was not without virtue, perhaps, just as Amber was not without fault — Cinder could not be honestly said to lack personal courage, just as Amber at times seemed to possess rather little of the same, and Cinder was certainly honourable, upon her own terms if no other — but compared one against the other … who would not choose Amber over Cinder? Who would not trust Amber more, who would not believe in Amber over Cinder, who would not put their faith in the goddess rather than the imp who cringed away from darkness?

One was the true Maiden, chosen by Ozpin to inherit the power of the Fall Maiden, embodiment of a line of Maidens who had since ancient days upheld the virtues of gratitude and acceptance; the other had sought to steal that power for herself, no matter the cost.

If someone were to come and look at this, without any other knowledge or personal history with the two, would they not say that Amber was the trustworthy one? What impartial observer of the case would believe Cinder? Cinder hadn’t even offered any proof!

And yet, she had been right.

Cinder had been right, and she, Pyrrha, had been wrong.

I and Sunset and Professor Ozpin.

But Sunset wasn’t here, was she? Pyrrha had stood by and let Ruby send her away, a decision which … whatever Sunset might or might not have done in regard to Amber specifically, it didn’t change the fact that that decision, and Pyrrha’s acceptance of it, was looking less and less like a good decision with every passing moment.

Or perhaps I would have just liked someone else here to take responsibility, or share it with me at the least.

But Sunset wasn’t here, and as for Professor Ozpin … she had, unfortunately or no, passed the point at which she could attribute all blame to Professor Ozpin. After all, if she had disagreed with Professor Ozpin, she could have told her friends what Cinder had said about Amber. But she hadn’t.

No, she could not excuse away her part in this. She had given Amber the opportunity to do this, and Ruby had nearly paid the price for it.

Cinder might not know it, but by the mere fact of being right, she had injured Pyrrha more than she could have done with her obsidian blades.

And now, she must confess the fault and explain herself to Jaune and Penny.

They were both still kneeling on the floor on either side of Ruby. Jaune had his hand upon Ruby’s forehead, and his semblance was spreading golden light over Ruby’s body, enveloping her in the soft embrace of his semblance.

It didn’t seem to be making any difference. Ruby showed no more signs of waking now than she had displayed before.

She lay there, still and silent with her eyes closed, seeming so much younger than she did awake, while Jaune and Penny knelt around her in the midst of torn up pages.

Pyrrha looked down and bent down a little to get a better look at what the pages had been torn out from.

Some of them were from her copy of The Mistraliad; she recognised the verse, that deathless verse as it had been referred to by its admirers, the unparallelled, unequalled verse; it might be deathless, but her copy had surely died the death at the hands of that ursa, and any other grimm who had been through here. Not that it was of any great matter; it was not a rare or expensive copy; in her family home in Mistral, there was a hand-inked copy that was centuries old, given to Prince Pericles Nikos as a wedding gift by the then Lady Rutulus upon his wedding to her daughter, Lady Lucretia. But of course, Pyrrha hadn’t brought that with her to Beacon; this was just an ordinary store-bought copy of the kind that you could find in any good bookshop.

More precious by far, Pyrrha could see as she looked around the floor at the scattered and tattered bits of paper that concealed the carpet, were the pages that seemed to have been torn out of Ruby’s copy of The Song of Olivia. That, as she understood it, was a rare book: a book that had belonged to Dove’s grandfather, a book that was hard to come by these days, a book that was rare and precious and … and now gone. They might sort through the pages, try and find them all, bind the book again either in the old covers or a new one, but it would not be quite the same, even if they found every last page and every page was still intact enough to read. Something … something would have been lost, nonetheless.

Something irreplaceable.

Penny turned her head and looked up at Pyrrha. “Pyrrha? Why would you say that? Why would you say that about Amber?”

“Because…” Pyrrha choked. The shame scalded her throat and stopped the words. “Because we saw her semblance, just two days ago, when you found your semblance; Amber showed us hers, she—”

“Can put people to sleep,” Jaune murmured. He raised his hand away from Ruby, the golden light that had enveloped her flickering and dying. “I … I guess that she could have done this, but come on, Pyrrha, why would she? Why…” The words died. “There’s something you’re not saying, isn’t there?”

“There is something that I don’t want to say,” Pyrrha admitted. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She didn’t really want to look at any of the others at the moment. “Last night…” Goodness, had it only been last night? It seemed so very long ago. “Last night, when we spoke to Cinder, she told us that … that Amber had…” — her body trembled — “that Amber had betrayed us. That she had sold out to Salem.”

“But…” Jaune said. “But then why—?”

“Because in accepting Amber’s betrayal, Salem had betrayed Cinder in her turn,” Pyrrha explained. “There cannot be two Fall Maidens, after all, and Amber can give Salem far more than Cinder can; Cinder does not know where the Relic of Choice is being held, but Amber does.”

“So … Cinder attacked Amber because she knew that Amber had sided with Salem, and that meant that Salem didn’t need Cinder anymore,” Penny said. “So … Cinder was hoping to kill Amber last night so that Salem would need her — Cinder, that is — again?”

“That … would have made some sense,” Pyrrha conceded. “But I think it makes more sense than was in Cinder’s heart that night; she was driven not by sense but by … by her emotions, though those emotions may be too much of a whirl for me to describe: anger, despair, pride. I think, to the extent that she thought of anything, she wanted nothing more than to die that night, a death in battle, facing her great enemies; she charged for glory seeking death. A death that I denied to her.”

“But how did she know?” Penny asked. “How did she know that Amber—?”

“She didn’t,” Pyrrha said quickly, because it was perhaps the one exonerating detail in all of this, that Cinder had offered not a shred of proof of any of this. “She offered no proof, only her supposition as to what had happened. She had worked it out, she claimed, from seeing Tempest Shadow so close by us that night, and Tempest, as she said—”

“Is also working for Salem,” Jaune finished for her.

“Precisely,” Pyrrha said softly. “Cinder believed that Tempest’s presence was a sign that Amber was on the other side now and that Tempest was at the carnival, as we were, to safeguard her. But she offered no proof of that, or any other of her accusations. She asked us to accept her deductions on faith.”

“But you told us all the rest of her accusations,” Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha opened her eyes. She couldn’t not open them, in the face of Jaune’s tone. It was a hard tone, flat like the surface of his shield. His expression was the same way — flat, and difficult to read. He had risen to his feet, and now looked ever so slightly down upon her.

“Yes,” Pyrrha admitted, because she could hardly do anything else in the circumstances. “Yes, I told you that Cinder had accused Tempest, and Bon Bon, and Professor Lionheart at Haven—”

“But not Amber,” Jaune said.

“We didn’t believe her!” Pyrrha cried. “None of us did, not I, nor Sunset, nor Professor Ozpin.” She stopped for a moment, wincing at the ease with which she had sought to include them in this as though that offered some defence. “And Cinder offered no proof, and … and it was Amber. Should I have told you all that Cinder had suggested Amber had betrayed us, what then? Would either of you have chosen to believe Cinder instead of Amber, our friend?”

“No,” Penny said quickly. “No, I wouldn’t. I would have had faith in our friend, the same way you did. I would have thought that Cinder was lying to us, trying to trick us, trying to make us turn on one another. The same…” — she hesitated for a moment, then said — “the same way that—”

“That we turned on Sunset?” Jaune said quietly. “That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”

Penny looked up at him. She, too, rose to her feet; although that didn’t bring her so close to either Jaune or Pyrrha, she was still left looking up at the both of them. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know—”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Jaune said quickly, before she could. His voice was very soft now, not a whisper, but as gentle a breeze as had ever wafted through the window. “I…” He glanced away from them, then looked at Pyrrha. “You’re right,” he said. “Who … nobody would have believed Cinder when she said that Amber was our enemy. Even if you had told us — and that would have been awkward, with Amber and Dove right there — we would have all just laughed it off because, well, it was Amber. This isn’t your fault.”

“No?” Pyrrha asked. “Though I kept silent?”

“Does it matter if you would have talked or not if none of us would have believed you?” Jaune asked. “I mean, it was Cinder telling you this; why would we listen to her? The only person who might actually have believed her was Sunset, but she didn’t, did she?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “She … became rather irate when she heard it.”

“Then it’s not your fault,” Jaune told her. “You trusted Amber, but so did I, so did Sunset, so did Ruby; we all trusted Amber. We all would have trusted Amber even if we knew that Cinder had told us that Amber wasn’t to be trusted. We would have thought it was some kind of scheme or something. Penny’s right; they did … what would we have done differently?”

“Perhaps nothing,” Pyrrha conceded. “But I would feel less guilty if I had told you.”

“Because we’d all share in the guilt of ignoring Cinder?” Jaune asked, eyebrows raising.

Pyrrha looked away. “Yes,” she muttered. “I don’t like the fact that she was right, especially about this. Especially about Amber … I liked her very much.”

“I liked her too,” Penny said. “Are we sure that Cinder was right about her? I mean, like you said, there wasn’t any proof, and what if Ruby fell asleep because of some other reason? I can’t think of one, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t any other way that Ruby could have ended up like this!”

“Then where are Amber and Dove?” asked Jaune.

“I…” Penny hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“I fear that there are only a few possibilities,” Pyrrha said. “Either Amber and Dove are dead, and Ruby is the last survivor because we were in time to save her and not the others; or Amber and Dove fled, leaving Ruby in this state; or Amber — and Dove — have betrayed us, they put Ruby to sleep, and then … departed, leaving her to the mercy of the grimm. If they were … if Amber has not betrayed us, if Cinder is lying—”

“Then why not take Ruby with them?” Jaune asked. “And why, for that matter, would they all just stay here with the grimm attacking the school? Wouldn’t Ruby have tried to get them out? Or get them somewhere safer, anyway.”

Penny frowned. “We wouldn’t be considering this if Cinder hadn’t said it.”

“No,” Pyrrha allowed. “But she did say it, and as much as I wish it didn’t, it fits what we see, doesn’t it?”

Penny took a second to reply. “I wish that it didn’t.”

“We all do,” Jaune said. “She was … we all … I can hardly believe it, and Dove? Dove? I can’t even … no, that’s a lie, I know why. It’s because he loves her.” He gave a sort of wan smile. “He loves her so much that he’ll do anything for her, to be with her. Because now that he’s got her back, he realises that he can’t live without her. Because he’s hers, and she’s his, and it’s the two of them, together, whatever it takes.”

“But why is Amber doing it?” Penny demanded. “Why would she do this to Ruby? Why would she do this to all of us?”

“Because she’s frightened,” Pyrrha murmured.

“But we could have protected her!” Penny cried. “We did protect her, we kept her safe from Cinder, we won.”

“That … it seems that wasn’t enough,” Pyrrha replied. “If … Amber would have been hunted all her life for the powers of the Fall Maiden, so that Cinder or someone else in Salem’s service could retrieve the Relic of Choice. But if Amber gives the Relic to Salem, then … then Salem will have no more need to hunt her.”

“Is that where you think she’s gone?” Penny asked. “To get the Relic? Is that where we need to go?”

“I … don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I think … I don’t know; maybe they mean to wait until the grimm have taken Beacon? I don’t know; I’ve no idea what they intend.”

Penny looked down at Ruby. She knelt once more down by her side. “And if Amber did this to Ruby, then how do we wake her up again?” She reached out and put her hand palm down on Ruby’s forehead. She frowned. Then she scowled. Then she made a noise that might have suggested stomach trouble if she had a stomach. “It didn’t work,” she said with a pout. “I thought that maybe I could use my semblance on Ruby to break Amber’s semblance, but it seems like it only works on me.”

“That makes sense,” Pyrrha said. “It was your freedom that you sought, not ours.”

“I suppose,” Penny said, with obvious unhappiness clear in her voice. “What are we…?” She stopped. “We’ll go and find Professor Ozpin and take Ruby with us. Maybe he can help her, but even if he can’t, then he can keep her safe until she wakes up. And we can tell him about Amber. About what we think we know about Amber. The Relic … the Relic can wait until we’ve gotten Ruby to safety, if that’s what Professor Ozpin wants; if that’s where he thinks we should go, then we’ll go there, and … but Ruby comes first.” She paused. “And Pyrrha … don’t blame yourself. You trusted your friend; that’s not a bad thing.”

“Even when she turns out to be a false friend?”

“That’s on her, not you,” Penny said. “You were the best friend you could be to Amber, we all tried to be her friend, and as her friends, we thought well of her. That she didn’t deserve that isn’t your fault or your problem.” Again, she paused. “And will you do something for me?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “What is it?”

Penny glanced at Jaune. “I’d like you to call Sunset and tell her that we would like her help and if she can could she get to the CCT and meet us there.”

Now, it was Pyrrha’s turn to glance at Jaune to see how he would react.

“Why are you both looking at me?” Jaune asked. “I think … you’re right. We could do with Sunset’s help. No offence, Penny, but we never let a grimm get away the way we did at the arena when Sunset was with us, and, well, as much as I might not be ready to completely forgive her for what she did … I shouldn’t have forgotten all the things that she did for us either, for me. I was too quick to forget that, or too slow to remember. She helped me, she saved Pyrrha’s life, I promised that I wouldn’t forget it, and then…”

The evil that men do lives after them, Pyrrha thought. The good is oft interred with their bones.

But Sunset is not yet dead, if fortune be good, so her good may yet be remembered.

“And besides,” Jaune went on, “I can’t help feeling like we’ve kind of walked into the bad guys’ trap when it comes to sending her away. And if Amber is our enemy, then we could use all the help we can get. We could use someone with magic of her own, and a lot of luck. But, if Ruby wakes up, I’m not sure she’ll see it the same way.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but Ruby isn’t the team leader, I am,” Penny declared. “And I think this is the right decision. Pyrrha, will you please make the call?”

Pyrrha nodded and got out her scroll. Sunset would have every right to be affronted to receive it — that they had kicked her, spurned her from the door, banished her out of their presence, but now that it seemed they needed her help, they expected her to, for these great courtesies, fight alongside them in battle — but she knew that Sunset would not react like that. She was, whatever her other faults might be, too kind to them, too full of love in her heart for them, too devoted to them to refuse and turn away, justified though some might find the turning.

Sunset would fly to their aid if she could the moment it was asked.

Or so Pyrrha thought. But Sunset didn’t actually answer her scroll. The indicator remained resolutely amber, trying but failing to connect, the moments, the seconds, a whole minute passing by with no shift of the icon to green, no sound of Sunset’s voice, no sight of her face.

Sunset would answer if she could. She would not ignore us. “I fear she may be caught up in events elsewhere,” Pyrrha said. “If she is in Vale—”

“Right,” Penny murmured. “Right, then … then I’m sure she’s doing what she can … somehow. And I guess we’ll have to keep doing what we can without her.” She paused. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? Going to Professor Ozpin?”

Jaune picked Ruby up, cradling her in his arms as she lay sleeping. “I think so. He needs to know, and … we could maybe use some advice, even if it is from him.”

Yes, Pyrrha thought. Yes, we could.

If the Professor is in a state to give advice once he hears the news we have to bring him.

Rainbow leapt down out of the airship and immediately shot a beowolf square in the chest with her shotgun. The grimm was blasted backwards, already turning to ashes before it hit the ground.

She pumped Undying Loyalty and fired again at another close-by beowolf, this time blowing its leg off. She reversed her grip on the shotgun and clubbed it across the face with the butt to finish it off.

She pumped it again as she reversed it back into its proper grip.

The courtyard was confused. It was all confusion, there were civilians and grimm both present, and both coming in from all directions, from the fairgrounds and from the school buildings around the courtyard where they'd been sheltering.

There was blood on some of the courtyard stone.

Lights had been set up around the courtyard for the benefit of the festival goers who would be sticking around past darkness falling, and they combined with the moonlight to illuminate the area; beyond the lights, around the buildings, it was harder to see anything, but Rainbow could still catch glimpses of the red eyes of more grimm gleaming there, watching in the dark.

She'd deal with them later. Right now, there were enough grimm to deal with where she could see them.

"Get back!" she yelled to the tourists, gesturing backwards with one hand as she shot another beowolf. "Get behind us."

The initial drop was likely to be the easiest part of this battle, the part at which the huntsmen, concentrated in one location — well, three locations, but concentrated in a single location at each of the three key points — struck like a fist into the diffuse and spread out grimm. A giant ursa major with spikes taller than Rainbow's height lumbered forward, growling and snarling, but a single shot from Ciel's Distant Thunder blew half its head clean off, and it fell down dead on the ground. A beowolf threw itself on Rarity, but she held it off with one of her diamonds before driving her épée straight into its open mouth. A griffon tried to swoop down upon them from above, but Blake managed to land her hook into its chest and dragged it down to the ground where she slashed at it in a furious flurry with blade and cleaver alike until it was nothing but smoke and ashes. Maud tore a huge chunk of earth from the lawn just beyond the courtyard and threw it at a cluster of beowolves with her geokinetic semblance, obliterating them in a cloud of dust. Huntsmen and huntresses poured out of the Skyrays, descending into the courtyard and into the battle. Civilians sheltered behind them as they charged into the grimm; it wasn't quite true to say that they achieved numerical superiority, but they definitely achieved combat superiority in those first moments of landing. The grimm couldn't stand before them as the courtyard erupted with the sounds of gunfire, drowning out the howls and cries of the grimm.

An alpha beowolf leapt down from one of the upper floors, landing on the huntsmen and huntress statue that dominated the courtyard; its landing shattered the huntsman, turning it to fragments of black stone, leaving only a pair of trunkless legs with jagged, ragged ankles and the beowolf standing over them.

With a single swing of its paw, it broke the huntress too, breaking her statue at the waist, sending more shards of black stone showering down upon the courtyard.

It beat its chest as it roared out defiance to the night sky and the broken moon.

Rainbow fired Undying Loyalty once, then pumped, then fired again. The alpha beowolf raised its arms to cover its chest and face; those arms were covered with plates and spurs of bone, the spikes not too long but looking wickedly sharp for all that.

Blake found an opening in the beowolf's armour, her hook flying through the air to bury itself in the beowolf's shoulder between two plates of bone. Then it was Blake who flew as she leapt upon the thread of black ribbon to aim a forceful flying kick straight at the grimm.

The alpha beowolf again blocked, twisting its body to present face and chest and its two protected warding forelegs. Blake's kick slammed into one of its bony spurs without any visible damage. The beowolf swept its arms out, but Blake disappeared in the black flickering of a clone, reappearing lower on the black rock that was the statue base, hurling herself upon the alpha beowolf from behind. Sword and cleaver alike whirled in her hands as she slashed with blow after blow at the beowolf's back and side, both her weapons glancing off the armoured plates.

The alpha beowolf rounded on her.

Rainbow leapt, a single bound carrying her from the courtyard up onto the statue where she bodily slammed into the beowolf's flank.

It was a tough one not to get knocked clean off the plinth; it dug its hind paw claws into the black stone, doing more damage to the remains of the poor old huntsman as it anchored itself to the plinth. It swiped at Rainbow's back with its claws as Rainbow, hunched over, wrapped her arms around its midriff.

She winced as she felt the monster's paw strike at her, claws scoring her aura, but it didn't stop her from kicking at its knee repeatedly with one foot until she had dislodged it from its grip on the rock-like plinth beneath them.

Grunting with effort, Rainbow hoisted the beowolf up into the air, all four of its legs flailing wildly, and then slammed it down with a thudding, smashing sound — and an unfortunate breaking of what was left of the huntsman's feet and ankles — down into the plinth.

Blake appeared above the snarling creature, descending on it from above to land squarely on its chest before driving her black katana down through the alpha's unprotected neck.

It didn't kill the creature, but it did drive all the way through it and into the plinth below, pinning it.

The alpha beowolf growled and gurgled and struggled to free itself as Blake hacked away with her cleaver until she had taken its head.

And then, as the beowolf dissolved, Blake stood on the highest point of the rock and drew her sword out of the stone and raised it up triumphantly above her head.

And for a moment, as the moonlight caught her, pale as the moon but with hair black as night, as it glinted off her silver armband, as she stood with her sword in the air on the top of the rock, Blake looked more heroic than that old huntsman ever had.

And judging by the way that people — huntsmen and civilians alike — cheered, Rainbow wasn't the only one who thought so.

She smiled, in spite of the circumstances, and shuffled backwards a little down the rock only to bump into what was left of the huntress.

From her vantage point, Rainbow looked around and saw that they had cleared the courtyard. That was to be expected. That was the easy part, the part before their own forces became as or more diffuse than the grimm, spread out by the necessity of holding or retaking the nearby buildings or holding the ways open to the fairgrounds and the docks.

Nevertheless, it was an achievement. It was stage one accomplished.

"Listen up, everyone who's not a huntsman!" Rainbow shouted. "We are going to get you out of here. As we speak, some of our fellow students are securing the docking pads, and once we've opened up a safe path for you, then airships are going to start taking you up to the Amity Arena where you'll be safe! But until that route opens up, just stay here and don't worry; we're here to protect you."

"Would you like me to patch you through to all the other students?" Midnight asked, her voice appearing from somewhere behind — no, it was from down around the small of Rainbow's back.

Rainbow instinctually looked around, her body twisting at the waist. "Midnight? Where—?"

"What you were doing sounded a lot more fun than hanging around with Twilight up in the Colosseum," Midnight explained matter-of-factly. "So I hitched a ride on your scroll."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "You can do that? Wow, you're advanced."

"Why, thank you, Rainbow Dash. You're my new favourite."

"Sure I am," Rainbow muttered. "But that's a great idea, patch me through."

"Coming right up," Midnight said. There was a moment's pause before she added, "You're on."

"Huntsmen and huntresses, this is Rainbow Dash of Atlas Academy," Rainbow said. "For those of you who have been down at Beacon the whole time, reinforcements have just landed from the Amity Arena to assist you and evacuate all the civilians out of the school. All teams should try and regroup at the fairgrounds, the courtyard, or the docking pads, whichever is closest to you, especially if you have civilians with you. Once you get there, report to me at the courtyard, Yang Xiao Long at the docking pads, or Violet Valeria at the fairgrounds for further instructions."

"Rainbow Dash?" Trixie's voice emerged from behind Rainbow. "Is Trixie glad to hear from you!"

"Trixie, where are you?" Rainbow asked. "What's your status?"

"Trixie is at the fairground with Starlight and Sunburst, and our status is…" Trixie paused. "Tempest didn't make it."

I guess Cinder was wrong about her, Rainbow thought. A shame she had to earn her spot on These Are My Jewels to prove it. A terrible shame. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured. "I'm gonna send Maud to get you back up to full strength; Maud—"

"I'm on my way," Maud said, her voice slow and even and a contrast to the speed with which she moved; she practically disappeared, she was so fast, a grey streak soon lost in the darkness.

"Maud?" Starlight asked. "Maud Pie?"

"The one and only," Rainbow said. "I'm sure you've done a great job, but report to Violet Valeria; she's in charge in your sector. Company commanders, what's your status?"

"We've taken the docking pads themselves," Yang said. "But there's some grimm between us and where you are."

"We've taken the courtyard too, so you send someone to fight their way down, we'll send someone to fight their way up, we should catch them in a pincer," Rainbow said. "Violet, what's Charlie Company's status?"

"We're doing what we can," Violet said. "But it's a big fairground, and there's a lot of grimm around here. I don't know if I can hold the perimeter and send anyone towards the courtyard."

"Okay, leave that part to me; I'll send teams through to you," Rainbow said.

She jumped down off the now-empty rock where the statues had once stood. Blake leapt down beside her. Having completed stage one of the battle, the more difficult stage two opened up before her and her team — and all of them, actually, spread out across the school. They'd taken the courtyard, yes, but there were still grimm out there — she could still see a few pairs of red eyes gleaming in the dark, although after Ciel shot a couple of them, the others mostly slunk away, deeper into the cover of night where not even their eyes could be seen — and holding the courtyard, even with the civilians there sheltering beneath their protection, was almost meaningless if they couldn't open up a safe route to get them from Beacon completely. Not to mention the fact that the courtyard was the most vulnerable location to a grimm counterattack, with a lot of buildings overlooking it — the dining hall to the south where flames flickered and burned within, the dormitories directly in front of them, the main school building with all the classrooms and the amphitheatre, both to the north — where grimm could approach through cover, and nobody would see them coming unless Rainbow did something to secure the buildings.

That was why she'd given herself the greater share of the forces — although, perhaps she should have strengthened Charlie Company as well — because, although they'd taken the courtyard quickly through force concentration, she now risked spreading her strength out so much that they were vulnerable to a grimm counterattack.

And yet, she couldn't not spread them out, or she'd leave the grimm with easy avenues of approach, not to mention the need to link up with the fairgrounds and the docks.

Since Yang was coming down the road from the docking pad, which was more than could be said for anyone from Charlie Company at the moment, Rainbow sent only a single team, Shade's Team GEAR, one of only two Shade teams to descend from Amity, up the road to meet them; the other effort, towards the fairgrounds, she stacked a little more, with Team UMBR and Team ABRN jointly leading the effort in that direction, although Rainbow gave them the job of securing the dining hall as well. Team SABR led the push forward into the dormitories, while Team WWSR spearheaded the push north to the classrooms.

"You don't need to clear the whole building; just make sure the grimm can't use it as an approach," Rainbow said.

"What about survivors?" asked Russel Thrush.

"If you can search for them without leaving your rear undefended, then do it," Rainbow said, "but protecting the flank of the courtyard comes first."

Weiss bowed forty-five degrees from the waist before leading her team off, with the other teams following behind her.

That left Rainbow with just a couple of teams to play with holding the courtyard and possibly reinforcing anyone who got into trouble — plus, Blake, Ciel, Rarity, and herself. She had hope that other teams would make their way to the courtyard and boost the overall numbers — where were Lyra and Bon Bon? — but until or unless they did, there wasn't a lot left.

"Yang," Rainbow said. "Can you spare someone to check out the amphitheatre? I'm running a little low on teams."

There was the sound of Yang's gauntlets going off, followed by an explosion. "If you can give me a few minutes, I should be able to manage that," Yang replied.

"Awesome," Rainbow said. "Anyone who needs assistance, just shout up; we'll do what we can." She started to reload her shotgun, pulling the shells out and feeding them one at a time into the loading gate. "What is it, Ciel: up, through snow and storm like death?"

"Quite," Ciel replied. "And may the Lady steel our hearts, strengthen our arms, and judge us mercifully, if need be."

"Mmm-hmm," Neon added, from out of either Rainbow or Ciel's scrolls.

Rainbow pulled her goggles down over her eyes as she walked to the edge of the courtyard, to where the lights did not shine, and briefly turned on the night vision mode in order to scan the darkness. There were … no, there were some grimm still out there, she hadn't seen them at first, but now she did, a few more beowolves slinking this way and that on all fours, down low, looking almost more like Mistralian beowolves than the Valish kind. Mistralian beowolves were bigger for some reason, with broader limbs and thicker bodies, and they moved on all fours, more like real wolves. Valish beowolves were leaner, wirier, and they were as much or more comfortable up on their hind legs, using their forelegs like arms. Except these ones were moving around on all fours, probably to keep their profiles low. They could see Rainbow Dash — they were looking right at her, and their eyes were solid points of bright colour in the night vision — but they didn't move to attack her, in spite of seeming quite young and immature, without much bone to speak of.

There's another alpha out here; I just can't see it, Rainbow thought. She looked around, first left, then right, but she still couldn't see the alpha. A dispersed pack, with the alpha somewhere out of sight, either in cover or else deep into those parts of the grounds they had already overrun?

It was possible. It was also possible that these beowolves were just smart for juveniles. Smart enough not to attack all by themselves.

Not smart enough to back away when they saw that I could see them, Rainbow thought. Holding Undying Loyalty in one hand, she drew Plain Awesome with her left and carefully took aim.

She opened fire, squeezing the trigger then unsqueezing it, firing very short bursts so that the kick didn't throw her aim off — distance and darkness meant that missing wouldn't be difficult — towards the young beowolves that she could see.

That made them attack. They rushed towards her, five of them, staying on all fours to keep their profile low.

Rainbow heard the snap of Gambol Shroud firing from behind and to her left. Two beowolves went down almost at the same time, then another, then another, and there was only one beowolf left to make a flying leap towards Rainbow, forepaws outstretched.

Rainbow holstered Plain Awesome and raised Undying Loyalty to let the beowolf have it. Her shotgun roared, and only the ashes of the grimm brushed lightly past her face as its body dissolved.

There were no other grimm that she could see.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Blake asked.

"Midnight," Rainbow said softly. "Put me on mute for a second." She didn't want everyone on the battlefield to hear everything that she was saying.

"You're muted," Midnight replied. "Except from me, obviously."

"Thanks," Rainbow said softly. She began to back away towards the courtyard and the broken statue. "Yeah, I think they'll be back," she said. "I think they're gathering numbers, and they're gonna make another push once they think they have enough grimm."

"Do you think they know you've just sent most of our huntsmen away?" Blake asked.

"I think maybe those beowolves there were scouting," Rainbow replied. "But I don't know whether to answer that I hope not, because they'll spend longer getting ready, or I hope so because they'll try an indirect approach and run into Sabre or Wisteria or one of the other teams sent out to guard the indirect approaches."

Blake nodded, if only a little bit. "It feels wrong to wait here, doing nothing, with Weiss and the others sent off to fight."

"We're not doing nothing; we're holding this position," Rainbow said. "But if it makes you feel any better — although it shouldn't — if anyone gets into trouble and calls for backup, I'll be sending you. Do you still remember how to work alone?"

"'Alone'?" Blake repeated.

"Like I told Yang, there aren't a lot of teams to send," Rainbow replied. "But I can send you, Ciel … and then I'll have to go myself."

"And Rarity?"

"I'm not sending her anywhere by herself," Rainbow said, sharply even though she kept quiet. "I don't mind she's here, she can take care of herself, but even if she'd gone to the academy, she still wouldn't be 'solo mission' good; she's not you."

"Thanks," Blake murmured, dryly. "I—" She turned around, in the direction of the dorm buildings. "Ruby?"

Rainbow turned in Blake's direction, to see that Team SAPR had just emerged from out of the dormitory: Pyrrha first, then Jaune, then Penny.

Jaune was carrying Ruby in his arms.

Blake was the first to move in their direction, with Rainbow starting a step behind her but swiftly overtaking to reach them first. The way that Ruby wasn't moving, the way that she was just lying there while Jaune cradled her form, it made Rainbow fear the worst, that they had gotten there too late, that Ruby had … but there were no visible injuries on her, no claw marks or bite marks, no blood at all. It was like she was sleeping, not dead. Sleeping in Jaune's arms, deaf to all the battle going on around her.

"What happened?" Rainbow asked, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Ruby up — maybe that was stupid, but it was instinctual; you just didn't go around being loud around sleeping people; it was rude — and also so that they weren't overhead by too many other people.

"We found Ruby like this, in our dorm room," Penny answered, being a little quiet herself.

"And Amber?" Blake asked, also speaking in a hushed whisper. "Dove?"

"We…" Penny hesitated. "We didn't see them, we…" She looked at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha leaned forward, to speak more closely into Rainbow's ear. "If you see Amber, be wary of her; we think she did this to Ruby."

"WHAT?" Rainbow exclaimed, the tact and politeness of quiet around sleeping people forgotten as the word galloped out of her mouth. Amber had … seriously? Why would Pyrrha even say something like that?

"There's no sign of Amber or Dove, and we can't wake Ruby," Pyrrha replied. "Amber's semblance has the power to put people to sleep and…" Pyrrha's face flushed with colour. "Cinder warned us last night that Amber was going to betray us."

"Cinder…?" Rainbow gasped.

"General Ironwood didn't say anything about that," Blake murmured.

"Nobody believed her," Pyrrha explained. "Although perhaps we should. Please, take care around her."

"Okay," Rainbow said softly, although she wasn't sure how much good taking care was going to do them. If Amber chose to use that semblance on them, like she'd used it on Ruby — apparently; Pyrrha could be wrong — then there didn't seem to be much that she could do about it. On the other hand, if Amber didn't use her semblance, then … it was Amber; she was — or seemed to be — nice enough, but she didn't seem a fighter. She seemed like she'd faint if you said 'boo' to her.

Then again, Fluttershy seemed that way as well, and yet, anyone who thought that would be mistaken. Sometimes, you had to dig to fight the hidden metal underneath.

Or the hidden rot. Could Amber really have betrayed us? And why? Why would she side with the people who scarred her face and stole half her magic?

"What do you plan to do now?" Rainbow asked.

"We're taking Ruby to Professor Ozpin," Penny replied. "To see if he can help her and to tell him about Amber."

"Okay, but I'm not sure anyone's certain where Professor Ozpin is, and I don't know what the situation's like around the CCT," Rainbow warned them. "So watch yourselves out there."

When they had descended in their Skyray down onto the courtyard, Pyrrha had seen the top of the Emerald Tower and seen that there were no grimm flying around it, as though the lights themselves kept the monsters at bay.

It seemed that those same lights had less power when further away, because there were plenty of grimm around the base of the tower when the three — four, with the unconscious Ruby still cradled in Jaune's arms — of them reached it. The square before the tower, what might be called Beacon's second courtyard, which had no statue but did have the Beacon symbol of the crossed axes painted in white across the stone, was crawling with the creatures: beowolves, ursai, one or two large and ape-like beringels with arms as thick as the supporting columns that jutted out from the CCT, around and beneath which the grimm moved without opposition.

There was no one that they could see protecting the tower, and yet, the grimm were making no moves to get inside it; at least, from where Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny crouched behind a column and a low wall overlooking the square, it didn't look as though they were trying to do so. Although they prowled around the square, stepping with wild abandon upon the painted Beacon axes beneath them, not only did they fail to approach the door, they did not even try to climb the steps that led up to the door.

Perhaps there really was something about the tower that kept them away. Perhaps the fear of Professor Ozpin drove them to keep their distance.

Although the fear of him had not prevented them from attacking Beacon, and it had to be said that whatever power the tower possessed, it was not keeping the grimm at any great distance away.

The square itself still thronged with the creatures of grimm, after all, and they would have to pass through said square in order to reach the tower.

Could Pyrrha and Penny fight them all, while Jaune was effectively out of action carrying Ruby? Perhaps, but could they do so while guaranteeing the protection of Jaune and Ruby? Pyrrha would not like to take that risk. Could Jaune leave Ruby somewhere hidden until they had cleared out the grimm? Again, perhaps, but what if something found Ruby, sleeping and defenceless?

Pyrrha would have been tempted to suggest asking Rainbow Dash for help, but she seemed to be stretched, even with all the teams and students that had come down with them from Amity, and they had to put the evacuation first.

No, this would be something that they would have to do themselves.

Perhaps simply running for the door and hoping the grimm didn't catch them? But what if the … the spell, for want of a better word, protecting the tower faded, and the grimm pursued them there? That was a risk, but despite it, flight might still be a better option in the circumstances than fight.

"Do either of you have an idea?" Penny asked. "I'm not sure."

"No," Jaune said at once. "I don't."

Pyrrha glanced at him. "You said that very quickly."

Jaune blinked. "What do you mean? I don't have an idea, so I said so."

"But you didn't even think about it," Pyrrha pointed out.

"I have been thinking about it, and I didn't come up with anything," Jaune insisted. "Pyrrha, where are you going with this?"

"I'm not sure; why don't you want to share your plan?" asked Pyrrha.

Jaune looked at her. "What makes you think that I have a plan?"

"I … you could call it intuition, I suppose," Pyrrha said softly. "Just … something about your response seemed a little … not yourself."

Jaune was silent for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips. "Okay, so I do have an idea," he admitted. "But I'm not gonna say it because … it asks too much of you."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Jaune sighed again. "I was thinking that if you caused a distraction, then I could run across the courtyard with Ruby and get into the tower before the grimm realised. Then you and Penny — who would cover you from here — could follow."

Pyrrha looked away, her eyes scanning the grimm that crowded the square. "Very well," she said. "Be ready to move when the grimm start to descend upon me."

"But there are so many—" Jaune began.

"I don't have to fight them all," Pyrrha reminded him. "Just distract them, as you said. And I don't think any of us have any better ideas, in any case."

"No," Penny said. "I don't. But are you sure you can do it, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha nodded. "With good fortune, I think so."

"Okay," Penny said, her voice firm. "Then I'll cover you."

“You should move with me, first,” Pyrrha pointed out. “If you start shooting from here, then the grimm might notice Jaune and Ruby, too.”

“Good point,” Penny said. “Lead the way. I’ll follow you.”

Pyrrha crept away from Jaune and Ruby, moving crouched down, feeling very conscious as she moved that her outfit was not in the least designed for stealth; rather, her armour was such as the moonlight would glimmer off it, her circlet would shine where her hair did not conceal it, her skin was in many places bare to the world. That would all stand her in good stead when the time came to reveal herself and dare the grimm to do their worst, but right now, it was — or it felt — very conspicuous indeed.

And yet, the grimm did not spot her. Pyrrha was able to move in her gilded greaves and cuisses and her corset-cuirass with its gilded strip down the front and her gorget and all the rest, and there was no howl of alarm raised, no great roar that announced she had become the target of the grimm gathered in the square.

What are they doing? She wondered. What are they waiting for?

Whatever the answers — and Pyrrha could not begin to guess at them — she was able to make it to the corner of the square away from Jaune and slumbering Ruby. If she could lure the grimm in this direction, or even further, then Jaune should be able to make it into the tower with Ruby.

Then it would simply be a matter of Pyrrha and Penny doing the same.

The swords of Floating Array emerged behind Penny but did not separate yet. They remained clumped together in a single mass, ready to deploy.

“Are you ready, Pyrrha?”

“Yes, I am,” Pyrrha said. “Don’t shoot until they’ve started to engage me; otherwise, you will be their focus.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Penny pointed out.

“Perhaps not, but it would leave me with little to do,” Pyrrha replied, trying to put on a light tone. “Best if you let me draw their attention while you provide support.”

“Right,” Penny said. “Do your best.”

“I hope I shall,” Pyrrha murmured.

She took a deep breath in and out.

Pyrrha stood up and left the crouching Penny behind as she strode out onto the square. Her sash swayed loosely at her hip as she walked slowly into view, her footfalls echoed on the stones of the square.

She pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders; Miló shifted into sword mode with a succession of clicks and clanks.

That sound, the sound of her footsteps, the fact that Pyrrha had ceased to make any effort to conceal herself as she walked in an even pace, back straight, head up, ponytail bouncing up and down behind her, all of that meant that some of the grimm were taking notice of her even before she had approached an almost comically confused-looking beowolf and cut off its head in one smooth stroke.

“My name is Pyrrha Nikos!” Pyrrha cried, spreading her arms out on either side of her. “I am the daughter of Hippolyta Nikos, and Achilles was my father!”

She tried to think of something else to say, some quote, something from The Mistraliad, or Tarpeia Thrax’s words for Prince Pyrrhus … but the ones that she could think of sounded too melodramatic for the situation, and those that might have been more appropriate were, unfortunately, not coming to mind. Perhaps there really was nothing to be said that was not too melodramatic, too self-important, too heavy with the weight of impending death.

The grimm began to advance upon her, from all parts of the square closing in around her, forming a loose but steadily closing ring. Beowolves and ursai descended onto all fours, bearing their teeth in her direction.

“Come and get me,” she said. It was not very dramatic, but it was all she could think of.

She charged straight ahead, and the grimm rushed to meet her, a thousand roaring growls erupting out of their throats.

“Eulalia! For Mistral!” Pyrrha cried. She did not use war cries very often, let alone the cries to gods that she did not honour, but she was trying to attract attention after all, and the more noise she made, the better. She had no horn to sound, but she had a voice to raise, and so she let the ancient cry charge from her lips in answer to the grimm. “Eulalia!”

A creep opened its snapping jaws, but Pyrrha kicked it hard enough to send it flying into a nearby beowolf. The beowolf recoiled, and Pyrrha was on it, slashing with Miló once, twice, spinning on her toe and reversing the blade to stab the grim for one final stroke. She spun again, using Akoúo̱ to take the stroke of a beowolf’s paw before hitting the grimm with it and physically forcing it out of her way, opening up a space for her to run. She had to keep moving. If she stopped and stood still, then the grimm would overwhelm her. No matter what, she had to keep moving, like Juturna running around the walls of Mistral — except that, unlike Juturna, she couldn’t run circuits because, if she did that, she would pass the doors, and that would defeat the whole object.

But she had to keep moving nonetheless, so long as she kept moving only in certain areas.

She killed another creep by stamping on it hard enough to shatter its skull. An ursa, down on all fours, tried to physically place itself athwart her path as two beowolves closed in from either side. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at one, knocking it backwards, and threw Miló at the other, burying the blade in the grimm’s chest, as she ran straight for the ursa.

With her right hand, she grabbed her fluttering sash so that only her hair flew behind her as she leapt over the ursa. The grimm’s jaws closed on the empty air — missing her sash, or Pyrrha would have been in difficulty — as Pyrrha rolled down its back and landed on the ground in a crouch.

The black outline of Polarity consumed her hands and arms as she summoned Miló and Akoúo̱ back to her; her fingers closed around the sword as the shield took its accustomed place upon her arm.

Pyrrha charged, sash and hair alike now both streaming out behind her as she brought up Akoúo̱ before her face. She slammed bodily into a beowolf, bearing it back as it tried to reach its legs around her shield, and while she bore it back, she stabbed it twice in quick succession before throwing it aside.

There were grimm chasing her now, the hue and cry well and truly raised, but there were other grimm trying to get ahead of her, trying to block off her passage so that she could be surrounded and torn to pieces. Green beams of light lanced into the grimm that tried to block her way, scattering and disordering them, striking them down as they ran this way and that in their confusion.

Pyrrha skidded under an ursa major’s swiping paws, slashing at its leg as she went but not staying to do more. She didn’t need to kill the grimm; she just needed to keep their attention.

Although she certainly would kill them if she could: she nearly decapitated a beowolf with a well-aimed throw of Akoúo̱; the shield flew back onto her arm.

Pyrrha glanced behind her and saw that a couple of ursa might be more interested in Penny than in her. She switched Miló quickly from sword to rifle mode and backed away, snapping off a pair of shots into the offending grimm.

“Here!” she shouted. “Here, I’m here! Follow—”

Her words were cut off as something very big and very heavy slammed into her from the side, moving too fast for her to avoid it, lifting her up and hurling her across the square, where she landed on the paving stones with a hard thump that dented her aura. She bounced, rolling as she bounced, before she came to rest with her hair all askew and her arms spread out on either side, lying on her back.

What just—?

A beowolf. A beowolf had just hit her. A beowolf had just flown into her, and it lay beside her, on its belly, growling softly as it breathed heavily in and out.

Pyrrha rolled half upright, crouched down, and drove Miló into the back of the beowolf’s neck before it could get up.

Then, without waiting to watch it die, she turned in the direction that it had come from.

The beringel laughed softly, or least, it sounded like a laugh, a guttural sound like a saw moving back and forth.

Pyrrha switched Miló into spear mode for greater reach, as she stepped into a low stance, knees bent, spear drawn back, Akoúo̱ held before her.

The beringel picked up another nearby beowolf and threw it at her. Pyrrha dodged this one, swaying to one side and letting the squawking grimm pass by.

Then she charged.

She charged, but not at the beringel. While she had little doubt that she could kill the creature, she was less certain of her ability to kill it quickly, and to become bogged down in any single battle here would put her in a deal of trouble, even with all the support that Penny was providing as her lasers lanced out of the dark to pierce the grimm from flank and rear.

So she feinted towards the beringel only to dart away, throwing Miló before her to hit an ursa squarely in the chest. Her single stroke was not enough to slay it, but she did knock it onto its hind legs so that she could leap over it.

Her right hand was wreathed on the black outline of Polarity as she spun her spear in a wide ring all around her, keeping the grimm at bay.

The beringel roared in frustration; it threw more things at her: more hapless beowolves who howled as they sailed through the air or else stones ripped from the courtyard and hurled at Pyrrha, who had her work cut out swaying and skidding and dodging the array of missiles flung her way.

"PYRRHA!" Jaune yelled, his voice cutting through the darkness. "I MADE IT!"

A smile crossed Pyrrha's face as she took a beowolf's charge upon her shield and flung the grimm up and over her head.

She did not stop to slay the grimm; she left it behind as she ran, slashing her spear as she went to keep the grimm at bay, for one of the supporting pillars that rose out of the ground before angling towards the tower itself.

Pyrrha didn't know if they served some greater than artistic function; it didn't much matter at this stage.

She slew two beowolves who tried to stand before her and was grateful to Penny for several laser bolts that finished off an ursa before she had to confront it, and then she threw Akoúo̱ outwards and upwards towards the pillar.

Pyrrha leapt after it, only to be interrupted in mid-leap by a beowolf flung her way by the beringel. It did not hit — Pyrrha twisted in mud air like a salmon leaping from the river — but she fumbled her grasp at Akoúo̱ and landed down upon the ground again.

The beringel huffed and slammed its fists into the ground in quick succession like a drumbeat, shattering the stones beneath its knuckles.

A volley of laser bolts slammed into the beringel's back. The grimm gave a hostile growl as it turned in Penny's direction.

Pyrrha leapt upright and leapt again, summoning Akoúo̱ back down towards her so that she could grab it by the lip with one hand. With a heave, she pulled herself up, kicking a beowolf in the snarling skull when it sought to leap after her, and planted her legs upon her shield and used it as the platform for a further leap, where she jammed Miló into the high metal pillar and hung there by one hand.

She summoned Akoúo̱ back to her and slung it across her back.

Pyrrha was high above the grimm now, the beowolves scrambling about below, trying to climb up after but not having much success. The beringels, with their fondness for throwing things, presented much more difficulty, but Pyrrha didn't intend to be here for long.

"Penny!" Pyrrha shouted. "Don't use your semblance!"

Hopefully, Penny heard and understood, but Pyrrha had no time to wait for an answer as several grimm were already advancing in Penny's direction, including the beowolf-tossing beringel.

Pyrrha stretched out her free hand, wreathed in Polarity, and closed the hand of her semblance around Penny.

Penny did not resist with Freedom, that was very good. Rather, she folded up Floating Array behind her as Pyrrha lifted her through the air, over the heads of the grimm, and swung her around the tower and set her down out of Pyrrha's sight, but what she thought must be before the doors.

Pyrrha kicked off her lofty purchase, pulling Miló free of where she had rammed it, turning as she fell to land on her feet, for all that the impact jarred up her legs and jarred her aura, too.

Then she ran, ignoring the grimm who started to pursue her except inasmuch as she sought to get away from them. She ran, and her sash waved in the faces of her pursuers like an invitation as it fluttered behind her, the object of many snapping jaws as grimm ran hard upon her heels.

Pyrrha saw Penny waiting in the open doorway as she rounded the curve of the tower, and Penny once more gave her some covering fire, bolts flying past Pyrrha's face in both directions as she sounded up the steps.

Penny retreated moments before Pyrrha leapt through the open doorway.

Jaune slammed the doors shut behind her.

Pyrrha expected to hear beringel fists pounding upon the door, to hear the scratching of beowolf claws upon it, but she didn't. She heard nothing, not a pound or scratch or growl or roar.

It seemed that, once more, whatever power kept the grimm at bay from the tower had taken hold and offered them sanctuary.

"I don't understand," Pyrrha murmured. "Why don't they try to follow?"

"Maybe," Jaune began. "Maybe they don't want to provoke Ozpin?"

"The school is under attack; how much more provocation is needed?" asked Pyrrha.

"I don't know," Penny said. "But maybe we should be glad that we knew just where to find him?"

She was clutching at her chest with one hand, as though she were suffering from heartburn — or a heart attack.

Pyrrha frowned. "Penny, are you alright?"

Penny smiled, but it was a smile possessed of a slightly wan quality. "I'll be fine, but … well … no, no, it's fine, it's nothing."

"It does not sound fine or nothing," Pyrrha pointed out.

Penny hesitated. "Well … when you use your semblance on me, it… it hurts. In my chest."

"Penny!" Pyrrha cried. She started to reach out for Penny, then drew back, fearing to compound the offence. "Penny, I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Though with hindsight, she supposed that she ought to have done: magnets and computers did not mix, after all. The thought of what kind of damage she could have done to Penny, of what kind of damage she might have already done, it chilled her stomach just to contemplate it. "I will do better from now on, you have my word."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Penny said. "I didn't want you to feel guilty or start treating me differently—"

"Have I not already been treating you differently by using my semblance on you simply because your body is made of metal?" Pyrrha asked.

"But I know why you did it," Penny replied. "And I would have had a hard time getting across the square otherwise." She smiled. "My legs aren't as long as yours. And with my semblance, I can always stop you if it gets too bad."

"I suppose that's all true," Pyrrha allowed. "But nonetheless, I'll try to be more careful and considerate in future."

"Speaking of using your semblance," Jaune said, "how's your aura?"

"I … suppose that I did make rather a lot of use of it out there," Pyrrha admitted. "Can you spare your own aura?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Jaune replied confidently.

"Are you sure?"

"If you can hear a plan that uses you as the bait, I can decide whether or not I have enough aura left, don't you think?" Jaune pointed out.

"Yes, yes, that seems fair," Pyrrha admitted. "But perhaps that should wait until we're in the elevator and on our way up to see Professor Ozpin."

Pyrrha bent down and picked up Ruby off the floor, where Jaune must have placed her when he got inside. She had not woken, she had not stirred, there was no sign that any of the night’s alarms had disturbed her sleep in any way. She looked completely placid and utterly lost to the waking world.

Pyrrha hoped she was at least having pleasant dreams.

The CCT was empty apart from the four of them, which was at once both surprising and utterly unsurprising; unsurprising that the tower was not a buzzing hive of activity, with grimm right outside and everything going on, but at the same time, Pyrrha found herself a little surprised that nobody, not a single soul, had fled here to take refuge. Surely, so notable a landmark as the CCT would be a magnet for the fearful?

Unless they had all taken the elevator up to one of the higher floors, fearing that the lobby was too vulnerable to the grimm?

That would make sense.

In any case, they had the lobby to themselves; the soft green lights, never bright but not dimmed by the battle either, enveloped them. Combined with the lack of noise from the grimm outside, it was almost as if, by stepping through those incongruously wooden-looking doors, they had somehow been transported to a different world, safer and more peaceful.

They walked quickly across that more peaceful world to reach the elevator, climbing inside, where Penny pushed the button to take them all the way up to Professor Ozpin's office.

As the elevator ground upwards — the sloth of its movement seemed less forgivable now than it had been; Pyrrha was tempted to give it a shove with her semblance but feared that she might break it in the process — Jaune placed his hands on both their shoulders, and the light of his semblance embraced them both.

The warm light engulfed Pyrrha, the prickly but pleasant sensation tickling her skin like a shower washing over her. Jaune's semblance, the feel of it, the warmth, the comfort, the feeling of both a reviving shower and a comfortable blanket all at the same time, it always made Pyrrha feel so much better.

And yet, in the instance, even Jaune's semblance could not wash away all tension from her, nor stop it returning as he took his hands off her and Penny both. There was just a little too much for him to relieve her of it all, from the fate of Ruby sleeping in her arms to the fact of Amber's treachery — which she had known of and ignored — to what Amber might be doing or might plan to do next.

There was simply too much to be unhappy of, too much even for a shower of renewing light to take away.

The elevator stopped, and the door opened with a grinding sound.

They stepped out into Professor Ozpin's office. It was dark, as it so often was, but seemed even more dark than usual; at night, there was usually some kind of light, something coming from the desk which illuminated the headmaster, if no one and nothing else, and illuminated Professor Ozpin's work for him as he burned the midnight dust. Now, there was nothing, no light save only the light of the moon outside, and the stars where they were not interrupted by clouds or airships or grimm. The lights of the Emerald Tower burned yet, visible from without, but it seemed that within, they had no light to guide them.

The moonlight fell upon Professor Ozpin, making his white hair gleam in the darkness; he had his back to them, looking out of the window. Pyrrha thought that he could see the docks from there; was he looking down to see Yang and her company fighting to hold the docking pads?

Pyrrha half-hoped, half-feared to see it herself as she walked further into the office, closer to the headmaster's desk, closer to the headmaster, passing beneath the shadows of the grinding gears.

Professor Ozpin gave no acknowledgement, no sign that he was aware of them. He was as still as any statue, his eyes fixed upon whatever it was that he beheld out of the window that so preoccupied him.

“Professor?” Penny asked tremulously. “Professor Ozpin?”

Professor Ozpin looked up, whirling around to face them. “Miss Polendina, Miss … what are you doing here, you should— Miss Rose?!”

He strode towards them, marching past his desk to bear down on Pyrrha. He stood over her, and over Ruby where she lay in Pyrrha’s arms. He put one hand upon her forehead. “What happened to her?” He looked up, and looked around. “Where is Amber? Is she safe? Why didn’t you bring her with you?”

“Professor…” Penny began, but trailed off.

“Professor Ozpin…” Pyrrha murmured, but found that she, too, was unable to speak further. It had to be done, it had to be said, he had to be told, but … but it was a hard thing to say, to tell. It was very hard indeed. Hard to know where to start.

Hard to know how to do it gently, if it was possible to do it gently at all.

Professor Ozpin looked from Pyrrha to Penny, to Jaune, then back to Pyrrha. “Well?” he said impatiently. “One of you, speak. Where is she, what has…?” He paused, and swallowed. His face, which was never a great fount of colour, paled. “No,” he whispered, taking a step backwards. “No, no, say not that she has—”

“I don’t think so, Professor,” Pyrrha said quickly. “We don’t think so, but … but … but we … I fear that Cinder may have been correct.”

“'Cinder'?” Professor Ozpin repeated, as though Pyrrha had just said the most stupid thing that he had ever heard in all his years of teaching. “'Cinder'? Miss Fall, what do you…?” He trailed off. He straightened somewhat, his shadow seeming to lengthen in the moonlight as he pushed his spectacles up his nose. His voice, when it came next, was calmer than it had been, and colder too, as cold as the air up in this lofty tower. “I advise you not to explain yourself, Miss Nikos.”

“We found Ruby like this, in our dorm room,” Pyrrha explained. “With no sign of Amber or Dove. Professor, you must know what Amber’s semblance is.”

“Correlation is not proof, Miss Nikos; I’m disappointed that I need to point that out to you.”

“I like this no better than you—”

“I doubt that, Miss Nikos.”

“But Cinder—”

“I will not take the word of that slithering serpent over my own child!” Professor Ozpin shouted. “Bad enough I must give credence to her hissing when it comes to a trusted friend and colleague of many years, but Amber? A girl I have known all her life, someone I have watched grow and blossom into … no. No, I will not. I will not countenance it. I will not stoop so low; I will not debase myself, nor disgrace Amber by suspicion.”

He turned away from them. “In the whole history of this circle, no Maiden has ever succumbed to the allure of the darkness. They have been hunted, they have been murdered for their powers, but none have ever fallen.”

“Pallas Kommenos, Professor,” Pyrrha said, taking a step forward, closer towards him. “The Empress’ childhood companion, her favourite, some suggest even her lover. Bearer of Soteria. When another Red Queen arose in Mistral, to whom did the Empress turn but to her most loyal servant, to take her black sword and warriors beneath the Imperial standard to put this monster down before she could wreak the havoc of her predecessor? And Pallas went and struck down that latest Red Queen, splitting her head open with Soteria. And the moment that the power passed to her, the Maiden’s power, she proclaimed herself the Empress of Mistral and bid all her warriors bow down before her or die.”

“She was not a true Maiden,” Professor Ozpin replied sharply. “She came by the power in blood, as all the other unworthy and false usurpers of that era did; she was not chosen through the proper line of succession.”

“No one likes the fact that we have to think this,” Jaune insisted. “It … it shouldn’t be easy, to suspect your friends … or the people you care about.” He looked away. “But … but it makes sense, with the way we found Ruby, with the fact that Amber was gone—”

“There could be other explanations.”

“We thought the same thing, when Pyrrha told us,” Penny declared. “Neither Jaune nor I wanted to believe it. I understand why you and Pyrrha and Sunset didn’t believe it either, but … what else could put Ruby to sleep like that? Why won’t she wake up?”

“She might have used her silver eyes,” Professor Ozpin pointed out. “The last time rendered her comatose.”

“And we carried her to safety, Professor; why wouldn’t Amber and Dove do the same?” Pyrrha asked. She paused. “When Cinder told us that Amber had betrayed us to Salem, we didn’t want to believe her. We thought that she was lying, Sunset directly accused her of it—”

“She had no proof,” Professor Ozpin pointed out.

“But what motive did she have to lie to us?” Pyrrha asked. “With … with our minds unclouded by our affection for Amber, or at least a little less clouded, surely, Cinder would have to know that she wouldn’t be believed. What purpose did it serve other than to cast doubt on the rest of her story?”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “You think … you think that Amber used her semblance to send Miss Rose to sleep so that she could steal away unnoticed?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Professor,” Pyrrha replied, her voice equally soft, if not softer.

“You believe that … that she…” Professor Ozpin seemed to age before her eyes, the lines on his face deepening, his shadow diminishing, shrinking away from her. “That she has betrayed us. Betrayed … me.”

Pyrrha swallowed. “I fear so, Professor.”

Professor Ozpin looked down at the floor. “Sharper than a serpent’s tooth,” he murmured. Again, he pushed his glasses up his nose; this time, his hand shook as he raised it. “Was she really so unhappy? Did she truly hate me so? Did I use her so ill?”

You bestowed a cruel fate upon her, a fate that she could not escape, save by death or treason. You asked much of her. She thought about what Sunset had said, about how, in her world, great power was only bestowed after one had proven themselves worthy of it. It is a pity that Amber was not given the chance to prove herself unworthy before the power and the responsibility were thrust upon her.

“Everyone wants to be free,” Penny said quietly. “At least, I think they do. I know I did. And Amber never wanted this, never wanted any part in this. She didn’t choose it. She just wanted to be free, she wants to be free, and I understand why, because freedom … freedom is the most wonderful gift in the world; it’s the thing that makes everything else worthwhile.” She paused. “But I also don’t think it’s your fault, Professor. I don’t think you should blame yourself. Because if Amber wants to be free, then … then that means that she has to take responsibility for her own choices; she can’t ask anyone else to take them on for her.”

That was well said, in Pyrrha’s opinion, but if it gave Professor Ozpin any comfort, he did not show it. He walked away— no, he did not walk; rather, he slouched away with slumped shoulders and a crooked back, slouching towards his desk, where he placed his hands and leaned against the glass surface with his head bowed.

“Is there anything that you can do for Ruby?” Jaune asked. “Can you … break Amber’s semblance?”

“No,” Professor Ozpin replied, his voice tired, the word drawn out with weariness. “It may be that Miss Rose herself can do that, if she wishes to, but I cannot, save by breaking Amber’s aura.” He paused. “But you may leave her here; I think she will be safe enough.”

Jaune looked at Pyrrha. His mouth was fixed in a sort of wincing expression, one side open and square, the other tighter and more narrow. He did not look, to say the least, as though he found Professor Ozpin’s assurance very reassuring. But what choice did they have? Take Ruby with them? Into battle? No, no, in this, if nothing else, Professor Ozpin was right. She would be safer here.

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, setting Ruby gently down in the centre of the room. Kneeling, she fussed a little with Ruby’s cape until it was draped across her torso like a blanket.

Though I know you wouldn’t wish to be sleeping, Ruby, I really do hope you’re having pleasant dreams.

It would be as well that someone is having a good night.

“What should we do now, Professor?” Penny asked.

Professor Ozpin mumbled something indistinct.

“Professor?” Penny repeated, taking a step forward. “Should … should we go to the Vault and guard the Relic?”

“Why should you listen to me?” Professor Ozpin mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear it.

“Because…” Penny looked helplessly to Pyrrha and Jaune. “Because you’re our leader.”

“A leader?” Professor Ozpin chuckled darkly. “Yes, and I have led so well. I have led so well that my friends and comrades, my most beloved betray me, that all my designs and good intentions turn to ash, that my own school is under attack.”

“Yes, Professor, it is,” Pyrrha said, getting up from off her knees. “What are you doing about it?”

Jaune looked around at her, eyes wide.

In the circumstances, I hope I can be forgiven for coming on strongly, Pyrrha thought.

“What can I do, Miss Nikos?” Professor Ozpin asked. “When there is no one I can trust to obey any commands that I might give?”

“You can trust us,” Penny said.

Professor Ozpin glanced at her over his shoulder. “Can I?” he asked, a mixture of scepticism and, worse, mockery in his voice.

He is a broken man, Pyrrha thought. This news of Amber, it has undone him.

I fear that he was creaking even before we brought the news, else why should he sit here like this, marooned in his tower while the very survival of Beacon hangs by a thread?

Professor Ozpin turned away. “General Ironwood has the command,” he declared. “Seek there for orders; ask him what he would have you do. All things are in his hands now.”

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny looked at one another.

I’m glad that the tower itself seems to be keeping grimm at bay, for I might not trust Professor Ozpin here with Ruby.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Yes, Professor.”

Author's Note

The picture is by Pao
I know that the intent from a couple of chapters ago that the teryx and the griffon escaping from the arena as a sign that Team SAPR was not as capable without Sunset didn't land with everyone, but I'm going to ask you to accept it anyway because this is part of it was in aid of: Jaune kind of realising that actually, yeah, they were better off with Sunset around than they are without and sending her away was not the smartest move.

Against Such a Moment (New)

Against Such a Moment

"We … we did the right thing, didn't we?" Penny asked. "Telling Professor Ozpin about Amber?"

"Yeah," Jaune said at once. "Yeah, of course. He needed to know. What were we supposed to do, keep it from him?"

"I suppose not," Penny murmured. She clasped her hands together in front of her and looked down at them, rubbing them together a little as she did so. "But he seemed so … so sad. When he believed it, anyway."

"More than sad," Jaune said. "More like … broken."

"His child," Pyrrha whispered.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune asked.

"He called her his child," Pyrrha repeated. "He loved her. He truly loved her, for all that he … used her ill, it was not out of malice in his heart."

"He loved her, but he made her a Maiden, painted a target on her back, made a normal life for her impossible?" Jaune asked. "Some love."

"Parents do not always act in the way that their children would wish," Pyrrha said. "They do not always restrain themselves from putting their own desires and ambitions ahead of those of their children. But it doesn't mean that there isn't love there, although it may sometimes seem that way to the child. As it seemed to Amber herself."

"But just because a parent loves their daughter, it doesn't make them right or mean that they have to be forgiven for the mistakes that they've made," Penny replied. "It doesn't mean that the child isn't right to try and find their own path, to want their freedom."

"At what cost?" asked Pyrrha. She looked at Penny. "Your freedom costs nothing, except perhaps some lien to Atlas and a little embarrassment to General Ironwood. Amber's freedom may cost … a great deal."

Penny nodded. "All the same, I … I don't know if I really want to fight Amber." She frowned. "No, that's not right; I do know: I don't want to fight Amber. I liked her; she was nice. I don't want her to be my enemy."

"No one wants Amber to be our enemy," Jaune said. "But she's chosen to be our enemy. That's what she's decided, that's what she was willing to do, to be free. She's not you; she didn't just decide to follow a dream no matter where it took her and Professor Ozpin and we don't agree with what her dream is. She isn't even me; I could have put people in danger—"

"Jaune," Pyrrha began.

Jaune ploughed on. "But I didn't set out to hurt anyone. Amber deliberately used her semblance on Ruby and left her there, and she would have been killed if we hadn't showed up when we did. Now, I hope that Amber didn't think she was leaving Ruby to get eaten by the grimm, but she obviously didn't care that much. Maybe she never cared about any of us at all."

"I think you do her wrong, to go so far," Pyrrha said softly. "I think that she cared, or at least, I think that the affection that Amber showed to us was genuine. It was simply outweighed by other considerations."

Penny nodded. "I suppose. But I still don't want to fight her. I mean, if we fight her, are we supposed to kill her? Is that what we're going to have to do?"

There was a moment of silence within the elevator, with only the ambient sound of the lift itself grinding its way down the high tower to disturb them.

Pyrrha might have welcomed more sound than that, in truth; she did not want to consider what Penny had said, although it doubtless had to be considered. Killing Amber. Amber's blood upon her hands.

She had never killed anyone before. Or rather … that was probably not strictly true; there had been deaths in battles in which she had taken part, most notably the White Fang during the fight in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn. Just because she hadn't seen the light leave anybody's eyes, just because she hadn't seen their blood upon the edge of Miló, could she really say that she hadn't been responsible for anyone's deaths?

No, no, in all honesty, she could not, but she did not feel responsible, if that made any sense at all; she did not feel as though she had taken life, she did not feel as though she had passed that watershed. It might be an intellectual falsehood, but it did not alter her conscience.

But if she killed Amber, even if she took part in a battle and Amber was dead at the end of the battle although it was technically Penny or Jaune who had struck the final blow, nevertheless, Pyrrha would feel partially responsible. She would feel it in ways that she currently did not.

Pyrrha had always known that it might be necessary to take life in battle — the great stories of Mistral's heroic past were far from bloodless affairs, after all; at times, there were so many slain that rivers were choked with the dead — but to have her first kill, or what felt like her first kill, be someone whom Pyrrha had considered a friend, for all that that friend had betrayed them?

It did not make the prospect any easier to contemplate.

Some deaths would have been easier to look to; some people would have been easier to kill. Pyrrha felt as though she might have killed Cinder gladly at one point, although when the opportunity had finally been within her grasp, she had shrank from it, preferring to hide behind the Valish law and the proper procedures of the kingdom in which she was a guest. Even Cinder, someone who was Pyrrha's enemy, but someone she had fought beside, someone to whom she owed all their lives, had proven difficult in the end.

Pyrrha did not owe Amber her life, but she was a friend.

I suppose what I'm saying is that I would prefer to kill a stranger, someone I did not know and was in no way connected with.

Which I've probably already done, not that it helps to consider taking Amber's life.

The thought of Amber's blood upon her blade, of Amber's eyes looking up at Pyrrha as the light left them, of Amber's face — that sweet, scarred face — slowly going rigid, it wracked Pyrrha's body with a shudder.

Jaune gripped the hilt of Crocea Mors with one hand. "It isn't, or it shouldn't be, easy to … to take a life. And I'm not going to tell you that it'll be fine if we have to … to kill Amber. It won't be. It shouldn't be. But at the same time, it can be, with help, like Professor Goodwitch helped me after our mission at the start of second semester. And what choice do we have? Amber's our enemy now, and we think she's going to give the Relic to Salem. What choice do we have but to fight her with everything we have?"

"If we kill Amber, then all the Fall Maiden's power will pass to Cinder," Pyrrha pointed out.

"And Cinder doesn't know where the Relic is, so we might be better off that way than we are now," Jaune replied. "And anyway, we don't know that's what will happen. That's what Ozpin was afraid would happen, which is why he wanted to transfer the powers to you with that machine, but he didn't know for sure. This has never happened before. For all we know, Amber's half of the powers would go to you or Penny."

If either of us would want them, Pyrrha thought. After all, she could understand why the power of the Fall Maiden having been forced upon her had driven Amber to betray Professor Ozpin and everyone else. It was a heavy burden, to be sure.

Heavy, but at the same time, not without honour; a burden, but at the same time, a great privilege if one desired it. To be chosen was to be thought well of, to possess it was to have many great examples to live up to — and some less praiseworthy examples to avoid — and although it cast one into a great and everlasting struggle, that was less of a hardship if one was already committed to such a struggle, albeit in a different form.

Did Pyrrha desire the power? Not at any cost, no, but would she pick it up if it lay by the wayside, with her eyes open and in full knowledge of what it would entail? Yes. Yes, she would.

Would she pick them up at the cost of Amber's life? Amber might have her own opinions on that particular question, opinions which would carry as much weight as Pyrrha's own.

Falling leaves. Autumn leaves falling like rain.

Amber dreamt last night she dined with Professor Ozpin, and how likely is that now? Amber and I both had a bit of supper go down the wrong way, that's all.

But I dreamt that I would triumph in the tournament, and I did.

And then I dreamt that I would offer up all my glories in sacrifice to the Fall Maiden.

Pyrrha felt a chill in her heart; she had thought, if the dream meant anything, that it must mean Cinder was fated to be her destroyer, and so she had taken comfort from the knowledge that Cinder had been defeated and caged. She had never considered that it might be Amber that she dreamt of, that Amber might be the one fated to defeat her.

Amber was not without some skill, although Pyrrha would have said, not unkindly but nevertheless, that Amber lacked the heart to use her skill to its fullest. Had she been but Amber, then Pyrrha would not have feared the skill that she possessed — she might be more technically proficient than Cinder, she appeared on Pyrrha's brief examination to have been better trained, but while Cinder fought with a wild abandon that would do discredit to a gutter thug, she also fight with a tiger's heart and a ferocity that animated her natural speed and strength — but the fact was that she was not just Amber. She was also the Fall Maiden, possessed of great magical power.

Maidens have been defeated before, for good or ill.

And we have beaten Cinder when she deigned to use her powers.

But Sunset was with us then, and Ruby.

Shorn of those allies and facing an enemy who was not alone — for they must expect at least Dove to be with her — would the three of them be sufficient?

Pyrrha looked at them, Jaune and Penny, her companions in the elevator and her companions in battle.

Her love and her dear friend besides.

Let me not mourn that I do not go into battle alongside all that I might wish; let me rather rejoice that I do not go into battle alone, but with some of those most dear to me.

Alright, Weiss, I will concede it: I really am very fortunate indeed.

The corners of her lips turned upwards in a smile.

Jaune must have caught it out of the corner of his eye, for he said, "A fine time to smile, Pyrrha."

His tone was light, but Pyrrha felt reproached nevertheless, and justly so. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I was just…"

"What?" asked Penny.

"It's nothing, really."

"I don't think you'd smile at nothing," Penny pointed out. "Not now."

Pyrrha sighed. "I was just thinking that, if we must face Amber, to whatever outcome, then I'm glad we'll be doing it together. I was thinking that, instead of regretting that not everyone is with us whom we might like, we should be grateful that some of us we would want are here."

She felt Jaune's hand slip into hers, their fingers interlocking.

"I guess you're right," Penny said. "I wouldn't want to do any of this without you, all on my own. But maybe we won't have to fight Amber; maybe General Ironwood will tell us to do something else."

"General Ironwood shouldn't be the one telling us what to do," Jaune muttered. "Ozpin should."

Penny blinked. "I thought you didn't like Professor Ozpin very much."

"I'm not crazy about the guy, not anymore, but he's still supposed to be in charge!" Jaune declared, his grip on Pyrrha's hand tightening just a little. "He's the headmaster and the leader of this fight against Salem; where does he get off just standing up there, staring out the window, telling us to go and talk to General Ironwood as though he doesn't give a damn anymore?"

"I think he's upset," Penny pointed out.

"We're all pretty upset," Jaune replied. "But you don't see us moping around!"

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened upon the lobby, with its soft green lights and otherworldly, all-too-peaceful feel.

There was still no sound from the grimm outside. Assuming that they were still outside, but it would be foolish to imagine they had gone.

"Whatever else we do," Pyrrha said, "our first task will be to fight our way out of this tower."

"But we should talk to General Ironwood first," Penny said, getting out her scroll, "and ask him what we should do. I hope he's not too busy to answer."

"He needs to know about Amber," Pyrrha said. "Especially since Professor Ozpin seems … no longer capable of doing anything at present."

Penny nodded as she opened up her scroll; her finger flicked across the screen, tapping lightly here and there like a dancer leaping across the floor. She pulled back her hand, closing it into a fist as she waited.

It was not a long wait before they all heard General Ironwood's voice.

"Penny?" he said. "Is something wrong?"

"Y-yes, sir, it is," Penny said. "I'm afraid that it looks like what Cinder told us about Amber is true."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Pyrrha wondered if General Ironwood would be as sceptical about that as Professor Ozpin had been.

"And what makes you think that, Penny?" General Ironwood asked calmly.

"We found Ruby unconscious in our dorm room," Penny said. "It looked like Amber's semblance had put her to sleep."

Again, silence, or at least a pause from the general, before he said. "I see. That's … unfortunate, but it's also more Professor Ozpin's business than mine. You should inform him and—"

"We did inform him, sir," Penny said quickly. "But he told us that you were in charge and that we should ask you for our orders."

"Did he?" General Ironwood asked, in a curt tone. "Is that all?"

"Um … he was quite upset, sir," Penny said softly.

Once more, a silence. Seconds passed. General Ironwood said, "You say 'we'; are Miss Nikos and Mister Arc with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Miss Rose?"

"Still unconscious, sir," Penny said. "We left her with Professor Ozpin."

"Understood," General Ironwood. "Make a cursory search of the grounds for Amber and any confederates; if you can't find her in the school, or if you find evidence that she has left the school, then join the defence of the evacuees. Present yourselves to Dash for more detailed instructions. I'm afraid we can't afford to have a good team standing idle under the present circumstances; we need everyone on the dancefloor now."

"Yes, sir," Penny said. "I understand."

"Good luck," General Ironwood said, although what he might consider good luck — finding Amber, or not finding her — he did not say. "Ironwood out."

Penny snapped her scroll shut and put it away. "Do you think we should go to the Vault first? Check if Amber did go to get the Relic?"

"If she went to get the Relic straight away, then we're already too late," Jaune replied. "And besides, would she go there first thing?"

"When better?" Pyrrha asked. "In the chaos of the battle, she could slip away unnoticed."

"Or she could get caught, and there'd be a lot of people around to try and stop her," Jaune replied.

"Why would the grimm attack the school, if not to provide cover for Amber's escape and theft of the Relic?" asked Pyrrha.

"Her escape, yes," Jaune said. "I think that's why, so that she could slip away from everyone while they were preoccupied, but the Relic? If Amber went back to the Vault for it now, then she'd have to leave through the middle of the battle; it's a big risk. I think … I think we should check Benni Havens' for her; it sits right by the exit, if Amber left Beacon, then someone might have seen her, and if they haven't, we can ask Benni to keep an eye out for her while we search the rest of the school, or as much as the grimm will let us."

"That makes sense," Penny said, nodding her head up and down. "Okay, we'll go there first."

"Second," Pyrrha murmured. "First, we need to get out of this tower."

"Right," Penny agreed. "But since we have a job to do, we'll try and cut through them and get away. They might not follow us away from the tower, the same way they didn't follow us inside."

"What do you think they're doing?" Jaune asked. "They don't seem to want people getting in, but once they're in, then they won't follow them?"

"If they destroyed the tower, it would be catastrophic," Pyrrha murmured. "The kingdoms would lose the ability to communicate with one another. Perhaps … perhaps Salem appreciates having the ability to communicate with her agents in the field."

"She could use that grimm thing from Mountain Glenn, right?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha shuddered at the memory. "Perhaps her servants find that as unpleasant as we did, and she does not like to burden them unduly."

"I suppose it doesn't matter why they do all the things that they do," Penny said. "It only matters what they do. Pyrrha, will you go first out the door, then Jaune, and I'll bring up the rear." Floating Array emerged out from behind her but did not spread out; Penny kept the blades tight together, presumably so they would fit through the door.

"Of course," Pyrrha said, pulling Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders. Miló was in spear form, and she drew it back as she approached the door.

She could hear Jaune draw Crocea Mors behind her and heard his scabbard click as it unfurled into his shield.

"Is everyone ready?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'm ready," Jaune said.

"Combat ready," declared Penny.

"Very well then," Pyrrha said and pushed the button beside the door to unlock it.

She wrenched the door open with a touch of Polarity and burst through, with Jaune and Penny hard on her heels.

The grimm were still there, and at least some of them were watching the doors, because as soon as the three came out, a warning howl sounded through the air.

The grimm drew back. They did more than draw back; they parted, opening a channel through their midst, a clear and unobstructed route out of the square.

The beringel who had been so eager to throw things at Pyrrha gestured to that same open channel, making a snuffling sound as he did so.

Pyrrha stood still, and felt the others doing likewise behind her. She wasn't quite sure what was happening. Or rather, she was sure what was happening but couldn't make any sense out of it. It was one thing to say that the grimm might not pursue them away from the tower, but another to not even try to attack them around the tower.

And yet, they did not. The grimm were silent, not a roar or a growl or a snarl to be heard. They all watched the huntsman and huntresses, their red eyes gleaming in the darkness, but not a single one made any move towards them.

Will they be so placid under attack? Pyrrha thought.

Penny must have had the same thought, because she stepped away from Jaune and Pyrrha so that she had a clear shot at the beringel. Her swords, the blades folded into their laser configuration, assembled in front of her chest and began to charge, a green glow brightening at the tips of each carbine.

The beringel grabbed a beowolf, which yelped as the bigger grimm threw it at Penny. Pyrrha leapt on her — using her body instead of her semblance — and shoved Penny aside, bearing them both to the ground as the beowolf flew over them and struck the tower wall with a thump.

Jaune stepped quickly forward and finished it off before it could get up.

The beringel grunted insistently as it once more gestured towards the open path and away from the square.

Pyrrha got up. "What should we do?"

Penny, likewise, got to her feet. "If they're not going to stop us, then we should just leave; we'd just be wasting time if we started a fight."

"Alright," Pyrrha agreed quietly, but she kept her weapons in her hands, and Akoúo̱ in particular raised to ward off any approaching blow as she led the way.

The path was not wide at any point, and the grimm who lined the path were never far away. The beowolves, sat upon their haunches, followed the three with their gazes, heads turning as they passed by. Pyrrha could hear them sniffing at the air.

But they did not bark or growl or bare their teeth more than fangs were already bared by the absence of lips. They simply watched, a whole assembly of silent grimm watching them.

It felt like flight. It didn't matter how Pyrrha tried to keep her back straight, her head up, it didn't matter how she tried to walk so that her sash would sway proudly back and forth at her side, it still felt like running away. And the closer they got to the end of the path, the more grimm were behind them than ahead, the more it felt like flight, like they were running away with their tails between their legs.

Perhaps they were.

But if they were, at least they were running towards something.

Rainbow blasted the last beowolf in the face with Undying Loyalty, then looked around to check that it really was the last beowolf.

Satisfied that it was, for now, she started reloading.

After only a short while, the grimm's strategy had become clearer: they were not trying to break through, but rather grind through. In the centre, and on the right — because they had lapped around the courtyard and were coming at the docks from the side — there had been no mass attack, only a succession of small scale, piecemeal assaults, as small groups of grimm assailed parts of the defence: a pack of beowolves had tried to get into the dorm rooms, clawing their way into or up the building; a trio of ursae had been found and killed in the amphitheatre, only for four more of them to show up and try to retake the building; a group of creeps had come up out of the ground between the courtyard and the fairgrounds; an ursa major had led a mixed group of grimm into the dining hall just as another group of beowolves had flanked around the building to come at the courtyard itself; griffons had swooped down on the docking pads and the road between there and the courtyard. At first, Rainbow had thought that these small attacks, none of them huge in number, all of them repulsed, had been reconnaissance in force by the grimm trying to work out the enemy strength and deployment. She had expected that, having done that, the grimm would then concentrate their assault on one particular spot, the spot that they believed to be the weakness of the line.

Well, they were doing that, but not in the centre or on the right, no, the piecemeal attacks were the point; they were constant nibbles at the huntsmen and huntresses lined up against them, incessant bites that didn't take huge chunks out of the huntsmen, but were making them bleed a little bit at a time. Nobody had died, but they had had aura breaks and injuries: Team ABRN had lost Nadir Shiko with his aura broken and a nasty set of claw marks across his chest; Sabine's aura had been broken too, but being a stubborn ass, Sabine was refusing to go anywhere and was staying with her team; Yatsuhashi, the big guy from Team CFVY, had taken a nasty blow to the head. Rainbow had sent the wounded and the aura-less to the docking pads — those that would go, Sabine — if they only had no aura, they could wait there for their aura to recharge or help with the defence in the last resort. If they were wounded, then they were getting on — or being carried on — an airship up to the Amity Arena, where a proper medical team had set up a triage centre, with flights to the medical frigate Comfort taking place for serious cases.

But even the aura breaks weakened the defence when the next assault came, no larger than the one before, but then it didn't need to be larger if the defence was weaker, and they certainly weren't giving the defenders a long respite between assaults. The individual attacks were small, but the tempo was rapid.

And all the while, the main assault on the left flank ground forwards.

As much as the grimm might want or hope to bleed the centre and right so much that they collapsed, it was on the left that they had concentrated their forces, and they were continually pushing forwards into the fairgrounds, while Violet continually asked for reinforcements to bolster the defence.

It wasn't all bad news, by any means: Yang had taken the docking pads and was holding them, meaning that the airships were landing and the evacuations were taking place. Frightened civilians; crying children; cosplayers of all ages; dishevelled tourists with wide eyes absent-mindedly holding onto souvenirs or candy floss as though they simply hadn't had time, in all the confusion, to think to drop them; they were all being passed from the fairgrounds to the courtyards and then on to the docking pads where the airships landed. Sometimes, the flow would stop, backing up where one part or other of the line came under attack as everyone became reluctant to get too close to the grimm; when the passage to the docking pad was assaulted, people would stay in the courtyard; when the courtyard was attacked, they built up in the space between there and the fairgrounds; then, when the attack was over, everyone would start to move again.

It was the advantage to the grimm's strategy; if they'd attacked everywhere at once, they could have paralysed the whole system or forced people to take their chances running the gauntlet of the grimm.

As it was, they were getting people off, but there were still people coming in from the fairgrounds even as the grimm pressed hard there, and a queue building up at the docking pads as people arrived faster than the airships could get them airborne.

Rainbow turned in the direction of the fairgrounds and shouted, "It's clear!" She waved with one hand for good measure.

After a short while, a group of people stumbled into the courtyard. There were eleven of them: three children and eight adults. One of the children had accessorised a Weiss Schnee snowflake T-shirt with a rainbow wig, thus proving that she had more sense than a fair few adults had possessed at the start of this tournament.

A woman with her pointed to Rainbow and Blake. "You see? There they are. It's just like I told you: they're going to save us, like they saved everyone at the mines."

"Keep moving," Rainbow instructed them. "Once you reach the docking pads, just wait patiently, and an airship will pick you up as soon as possible to take you up to the Amity Arena."

She turned her back on them as they shuffled along.

Rainbow took a step towards the plinth where the statue of the huntsman and huntress had once stood, or to where the statue of the beowolf now stood radically recontextualised, as Spearhead might have had it, by the absence of the rest of the piece, and said, "Violet, how much longer do you estimate before everyone's evacuated from the fairgrounds?"

"I don't know," Violet said sharply, her voice emerging out of Rainbow's scroll. "It's not like I can spare anyone to round people up."

"How bad is it?" asked Rainbow.

"We're being flanked," Violet said. "The grimm are curling around left of the fairgrounds and coming in from the side as well as in front; I'm worried they'll work their way fully around and we'll be mostly encircled. I need reinforcements."

Rainbow breathed in between her gritted teeth. Reinforcements. This wasn't the first time in the short battle that Violet had asked for reinforcements; the fairgrounds had become the maw that was devouring their strength. Yang's company had been stripped for parts in order to reinforce the fairgrounds, and Rainbow had sent what she could as well. Rainbow had been strengthened at first by huntsmen and teams coming in from other parts of the school, heading towards where they saw the airships land: Ditzy had come in, and Rainbow had sent her to the fairgrounds; she'd sent a Beacon team down there too, led by a guy named Jack, and others besides. Violet now commanded the greatest concentration of their forces, and it still wasn't enough.

And Rainbow was running out of reinforcements.

She looked around the courtyard. There was one team there, Beacon's Team ONYX, plus Blake, Ciel, Rarity, and Rainbow herself. The most that Rainbow could send from there would be Blake or Ciel.

"Yang," Rainbow said. "Can you—?"

"No!" Yang said firmly, almost shouting. "No, I cannot. I'm holding the docking pads with just me, Ren, and Nora; there is no one else!"

"Calm down, I had to check," Rainbow said. She exhaled.

Blake took a step towards her. Her mouth opened—

Rainbow held up one hand to stop her before she could say 'I'll go.' Rainbow might end up sending her anyway, but once she said it, then it would be difficult not to send her, and Rainbow kind of wanted to keep Blake in her back pocket in case of a real emergency — not that Violet didn't need assistance in the fairgrounds, but it didn't sound like the grimm had broken through yet.

Perhaps I should pull people out of the buildings and focus on a tighter defence of the courtyard?

Some of the arguments for occupying the outer buildings stood, most notably the fact that the grimm couldn't launch any sneak attacks on the courtyard from them, but against that was the fact that they weren't completely stopping the grimm from reaching the courtyard, even if they had to do it across more open ground, and they were tying up several good teams like WWSR who could otherwise have reinforced the fairgrounds. It was a balancing act, and Rainbow might have landed on the wrong side of the scales.

"Midnight," she said quietly. "Put me on mute and contact General Ironwood."

"Patching you through, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said. There was a brief pause before she huffed, "I feel like a secretary."

"What did you think you were going to be doing?" Rainbow demanded.

"I thought I'd be advising you as we stormed across maps to complete your objectives."

"You've been watching too many video game let's plays," Rainbow muttered. "Have you put me through yet?"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "What's the situation?"

"We're holding sir, but it feels touch and go sometimes," Rainbow replied. "Sir, can you assign more air units to the interdiction effort? The grimm are still being reinforced and we're being stretched thin."

"It looks like the grimm are gearing up to hit Vale, Dash; I can't redeploy too much," General Ironwood replied. "But I'll find another squadron to support Guardian."

"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "I don't suppose you could find an infantry company and some more airships to speed up the evacuation as well?"

"I can drop some androids to support you, Dash; that's the best I can offer."

"I'll take that, sir," Rainbow said. I'd take anything at this stage. "Drop them in the fairgrounds; that's where the grimm are pushing hardest."

"I'll have them dispatched at once. How long until evacuations are complete?"

"Hard to say, sir; we haven't had a chance to take a headcount."

"The Knights should relieve enough pressure to assign someone to it," General Ironwood said. "We need to clear the school before we start bombing the grounds; I don't want any civilian casualties."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "Dash out." She paused. "Midnight, put me through to the other students again."

"Such a trying task," Midnight drawled. "Not. All done!"

"Violet," Rainbow said, without responding to Midnight's grumbling. "The Atlesians are about to start dropping Knights on your position; that should take some of the pressure off. And I'm going to contract the perimeter around the courtyard to free up more teams, but you have to get someone to do a run around the fairgrounds and round up all the strays; we need to get people out quicker; we can't just rely on them working out where to go."

"Okay," Violet said. "Once those robots turn up, and they'd better show up fast, I'll get someone on it."

"Have Ditzy do it; she's got a nice face," Rainbow suggested. "Did you hear that, Ditzy?"

"Yeah, that was really kind of you to say, Rainbow Dash," Ditzy declared. "I won't let you down!"

"Be on the lookout for any lost children; they might be hiding while they wait for their parents to come back," Rainbow advised. "Weiss, I need you to pull Team Wisteria back to the courtyard."

There was no response.

"Weiss, I need you to fall back to the courtyard, acknowledge."

Still no answer.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Get to the main school building, find everyone, and get them out and back here on the double. And … save them, if they're in trouble."

"So Amber already left?" Jaune asked.

Benni Haven nodded. "Yeah, she told me that she was scared, because of the battle, and her friends were escorting her away. Said that Professor Ozpin had told them to take care of her. I'm surprised that he didn't tell the three of you that." She paused. "Well, maybe not that surprised. He was always kinda … never the friendliest guy. I know he was the headmaster and I was just a student, but he never felt like someone you could approach, you know? I always went to Professor Goodwitch when I was in trouble."

"You say that Amber's friends were escorting her," Pyrrha said. "You mean Dove?"

"Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon," Benni said. "And someone else, too, someone I hadn't seen before. Tall, reddish hair all stuck up in a mohawk. Stuck up in other ways, too, looked like she had a smell under her nose."

"That sounds like Tempest Shadow from Team Tsunami!" Penny cried.

"Sounds like you know her," Benni observed mildly. "But yeah, they were all with Amber, and after we'd spoken and I'd given them a little something to eat, they took the road headed for Vale. I tried to tell them Vale wasn't any safer than Beacon right now, and that they were welcome to stay in here and wait with everyone else, but they wouldn't have it. I guess I can't blame her much; we're safe, but we're still kinda close to the grimm."

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "Are you sure that you're alright here? I mean, are you sure that you want to stay?"

Benni smiled wryly at her. "I've put everything I had into this business: my money, my time, my sweat, everything; since I quit hunting, this place has been my life. This is my place, with my name on it, and I'm not gonna let some beowolf chase me out of it without a fight! Without it, I'm just a washed up ex-huntress with one arm gone and nothing to her name." The tip of her tail curled inwards. "And anyway, I couldn't just leave all the pictures on the wall to get broken, trampled, chewed up. All my boys and girls deserve better than that."

Pyrrha thought of their own picture on the door, broken and trampled if not chewed up, and found that she could understand Benni's reasoning, whether it was correct or not. "You're a very brave woman."

"Nah, I'm just a small business owner; they teach this attitude in vocational training," Benni said lightly. She paused. "You know … you know what I'm afraid of? I'm afraid that when the morning comes, there'll be some more kids who are only remembered from the pictures on my wall. Like Sky."

Pyrrha didn't say anything. What was there to be said? It was a possibility, to be sure, and to deny it would have seemed naïve, patronising at worst. Benni knew the score as well as anyone, and probably better than some.

"I hope not," Penny said.

Benni snorted. "We all hope that, kid," she said, not unkindly. "I guess it's a relief that Amber got out when she did, huh? Something less for you to worry about?"

"Yeah," Jaune said. "That's right. Thanks for telling us."

"No problem," Benni said. "I'd offer you something, but I doubt you'd have time to eat it."

"No, I don't think they, I mean we, would," Penny replied. "It's very kind of you, but we should be going now."

"Come back when all this is over; I want to make sure you're still here," Benni said. "Give 'em hell out there."

"We'll do our best," Jaune promised.

Benni nodded, and there was a smile on her face as she stepped back inside her restaurant — she had just stepped out the door to speak to them — and closed the door behind her. The bell tinkled.

"You were right," Pyrrha said. "Amber did leave."

"With Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow," Jaune said. "So Cinder was right about all of them."

"Cinder didn't mention Lyra," Pyrrha pointed out.

"She didn't mention Dove either; he's doing it for love," Jaune replied. "Maybe Lyra's doing it for the same reason. Maybe they don't know what's really going on."

"Maybe," Penny agreed. "It doesn't matter now anyway. We've got our orders from General Ironwood: since Amber's gone, we need to find Rainbow Dash and see how we can help."

The corridor was quiet.

Quieter than it had ever been on a school day when Team WWSR and their fellow students had moved with varying levels of speed and enthusiasm to their various classes. Whether they crawled along like slugs to Professor Port’s Grimm Studies or walked with higher spirits to Doctor Oobleck’s History class — Weiss had liked it, even if none of the rest of her teammates had — there had always been a certain level of ambient noise that came from the mixture of the chatter of the students, the sound of so many feet moving along the corridors in nothing that even approached unison. There were times when you got used to the noise, when you learned to tune it out, when you stopped really hearing Lyra’s poetry or Pyrrha’s soft chuckles or Sunset holding forth in a voice that was louder than it needed to be; there was a time when you didn’t hear Blake talking passionately — it didn’t matter what she was talking about; Blake always talked passionately — or Yang and Nora competing to see who could laugh the loudest or Dove passing Lyra and Bon Bon the answers for yesterday’s homework. You learned to stuff your ears selectively, so that you could only hear what Flash or Cardin or sometimes Russel was saying.

Weiss had learned to tune out the other sounds, or else, she would never be able to think straight.

But at the same time, she missed them now that they were gone.

They were gone now. The corridor was silent save for the echo of their footsteps.

Team WWSR advanced in single file, with Flash leading the way, then Weiss, then Russel, with Cardin bringing up the rear. The corridor they were heading down led to and then beyond Doctor Oobleck’s classroom. Having left Team APDT guarding the door out from the school building into the courtyard, Team WWSR was sweeping the building for any survivors. Apparently, when the grimm attack began, people had taken shelter in the buildings; considering that the attack had opened with a descent by airborne grimm upon them, that made sense. It had made less sense when the ground grimm arrived; these walls weren’t going to keep out ursai or even beowolves. But in the confusion of the fighting so far, it wouldn’t be surprising if there weren’t some people still sheltering here.

Assuming that the grimm hadn’t reached them first.

If they had, then WWSR couldn’t help them, but if they were still alive, then WWSR would find them.

And then, if possible, they would secure the fire exit and prevent any grimm from entering the building on the ground floor, never getting out onto the other side.

Beacon’s Team GRAY were taking the upper floor, where the offices of the professors were, while Team WWSR had the ground floor, which was much larger due to the size of the various classrooms, with their theatre-like arrangement of banks of seats climbing up the wall.

There were only two floors despite the size of the building; only two floors where the grimm could get in.

So far, they had seen a few grimm, and slain a few besides; they had been griffons, strangely, despite the relative lack of room to fly even in the classrooms; they had found a trio of them in Professor Port’s classroom, squabbling over the polished bust of the professor himself. In the process, they had done a considerable amount of damage to the room, but then Team WWSR had done a considerable amount of damage to them.

They had come across no more grimm, although it seemed that they had been here at one point and that Team WWSR were not the first to have ventured here to try and fight them off: sections of the corridor walls were demolished, and there were small fires burning here and there — they did not seem to have in any danger of spreading, thankfully — as well as detritus strewn out of the smashed up rooms.

No bodies, thank gods. If there had been a battle here, there was no evidence that it had cost anyone their lives. There wasn’t even any blood on the floor.

"We just lost scroll signal," Russel said in a hushed whisper. "Completely gone, dead."

"What are you checking your scroll for?" Cardin asked quietly, leaning forwards.

"'Cause I heard that the classrooms have scroll jammers in them to stop us from messing around on our scrolls in class, and I wanted to know if we lost signal," Russel replied. "We can't call for backup now."

Weiss considered that it might only be Russel's scroll that had lost its signal — that shouldn't happen, but these things could be temperamental at times and sometimes behaved in ways that didn't make sense on first glance — but a quick check of her own scroll before she put it away showed that he was quite right: she had no signal either.

"A signal jammer in a classroom sounds a rather draconian step to take," she observed quietly. "But why would it be on now, of all times? Who would have turned it on?"

Russel shrugged. "Maybe it came on by itself."

"Things don't just—"

Flash shushed them. "I think I hear something."

They all fell silent, listening intently.

Weiss heard it too: a groan coming from ahead, from inside Doctor Oobleck's classroom if she was hearing it correctly.

"Go!" she hissed, and they quickened their pace, Flash still leading the way, with Rho Aias held protectively before him and Caliburn in spear mode drawn back for an underarm thrust.

Weiss held Mytenaster lightly in one hand, with fire dust in the chamber and a black glyph in her mind, ready to conjure it in case she needed it to protect her team from a sudden attack.

Their footfalls continued to echo down the corridor, the echoes mingling and merging with one another as they moved more swiftly, occasionally being drowned out by the groaning of the person they were coming to help.

There was no sound of any grimm, no growls or snarls that indicate that this person, whoever they were, was being menaced or tormented. Only the groans of pain.

Team WWSR burst into Doctor Oobleck's classroom; the door had been ripped off its hinged and tossed into the corridor, and they all leapt over it before they rushed through the open doorway to see a dead body lying on the floor in front of Doctor Oobleck's desk, in the space where the doctor had been wont to zip here and there lecturing them upon history or fairy tales.

Now, a body lay there, utterly still, never to move again. He was a young man, wearing the grey and white school uniform of Atlas Academy, with light brown hair cut short on the back and sides, a little like Cardin; a gun, Weiss thought it might be a laser, lay on the ground next to him.

Clearly, he wasn't the one making the noise. So then—

The groan came again, and Weiss realised that it was coming from above them.

She looked up. They all looked up. There, hanging from the rafters by one leg, was another Atlas student in the grey and white. Like his comrade down on the floor, he wasn't moving; Weiss might have thought him dead too if it weren't for the soft sounds that he was making.

"Flash, guard the door," she said. "Russel, search the room. Cardin, wait there."

For herself, Weiss conjured up a white glyph a foot or two off the floor and hopped onto it. Then she conjured up another, and another, a stairway of silver-white platforms leading her upwards towards the ceiling of the classroom, where the student hung.

He had floppy blond hair that dangled downwards, leaving his face exposed where ordinarily it would have shielded it like curtains. The face it left exposed was bruised and swollen and smeared with blood, as were his clothes.

Russel, who had climbed up the steps to check the rows of seats that climbed upwards, stopped, looking at something behind the left bank of desks. "There's another body here, an Atlas girl."

The young man hung from the ceiling groaned again, as if the reminder of his comrade pained him. Weiss looked at the string that held him, and it was only a string, a very thin cord to take somebody's weight. Her eyes followed the string over the ceiling beam and then back down again to a brass hook on the wall that was used to restrain the curtains; the other end of the string had been looped around it.

Weiss thrust Myrtenaster into the sash at her waist. She reached out and placed both hands upon the bloody, beaten Atlas boy.

"Cardin," she said. "Take that string off the hook. But do it gently."

She couldn't see what Cardin was doing, but he must have done what she asked because the Atlas boy — gently — lowered down into her waiting arms. Weiss placed him over her shoulder as she hopped down her stairway of white glyphs, each glyph dissolving behind her, until she jumped back down to the floor.

"He needs medical attention," she announced as she set him down on the floor. "Russel, get him to safety and then come back here and rejoin the rest of us."

"Who put him up there in the first place?" asked Cardin, walking back towards them from the far side of the classroom. "Did a grimm do that?"

"He didn't put himself up there or put those injuries on his face," Weiss observed. "And I doubt he killed his own teammates either."

"Even if a grimm could, why would a grimm do that?" asked Russel as he descended the steps. "Why not just kill him like it killed the other two?"

An enormous hand, thick and black, punched through the front wall of the classroom to engulf Flash before he could respond. Fingers thicker than Weiss' waist engulfed him pulling with a yelp through the hole in the wall.

"Flash!" Weiss cried, drawing Myrtenaster from her waist once more, firing two blasts of fire dust in quick succession at the wall. To follow Flash through the hole the grimm had made would be foolish, but Doctor Oobleck would forgive her for blowing a second hole which, though it burned at the edges, she could fly through on the line of sliver-white glyphs she conjured up, gliding over them, through the smouldering hole and into the next room.

It was Doctor Oobleck's private office, a lot of old books with leather bindings strewn haphazardly everywhere and historical curios like the old relics you could find in the Emerald Forest if you looked down at your feet. Some of them were broken, as was the desk and the chair; the office was occupied by a massive beringel that had to hunch itself to fit into the cramped office.

It held Flash in one hand; he had dropped Rho Aias, but he still had Caliburn in his hand, and he had changed it from spear to sword mode as he stabbed it frantically into the beringel's hand.

The beringel didn't seem to notice. It gave a husky laugh as it squeezed him with its massive fingers.

Weiss flew towards them, Myrtenaster pointed before her like a lance, aimed at the small of the beringel's back. Beringel's were strong, but they lacked armour in comparison to other grimm; even the eldest of them was unprotected compared with a beowolf or an ursa of similar age or younger. The beringel's back was all black, no plates of armour to be seen, nothing to interrupt her blade at all.

She drove Myrtenaster home, and as the slender blade pierced the black hide, Weiss fired another blast of fire dust straight into the grimm.

The beringel squawked and dropped Flash to the floor.

Weiss smirked as she extracted her blade, conjuring an array of black glyphs to shield her from the inevitable—

The beringel swung its enormous trunk-like arm in a backhand blow that smashed through Weiss' glyphs as though they were made of glass, not aura, swatting Weiss backwards with a blow that sent her aura plummeting. The pain, the flaring protest of her injured aura, consumed Weiss' mind for a moment as she flew backwards, smashing through the classroom wall to make a third hole and further damage her abused aura. Only after that did she recover herself sufficiently to conjure up a glyph to stop her progress, and even that was a somewhat hard landing.

She barely managed to keep her feet as she landed unsteadily upon the ground.

Cardin stepped protectively in front of her as the beringel pursued, joining the two holes in the wall that Weiss had made as it broke through, roaring and beating its chest with both its mighty hands.

It planted its fists heavily onto the floor with a thud that made the classroom shake.

"Cardin, cover me," Weiss commanded, raising Myrtenaster in front of her as she began to conjure a time dilation glyph. "Russel, flank it!"

The smoky silver time dilation glyph began to take shape beneath Weiss' feet, but slowly, achingly slowly.

The beringel raised one first. Cardin charged with a shout, Executioner drawn back for a two-handed swing aimed at the beringel's face. The beringel caught the mace in one hand, not even able to wrap all of its fingers around the weapon. Cardin's shout changed to a growl of frustration as he pushed and shoved, trying to regain control of his weapon. The beringel, its other fist still planted firmly on the floor, let out a kind of husky laughing sound as it engaged in this tug of war. Cardin was sometimes able to push forwards, shoving the beringel's arm back, then he had to take a step back in turn, but he couldn't wrench his mace out of the beringel's grip.

Russel came in from the side, daggers gleaming in the moonlight that streamed through the window as he stabbed at the beringel's back hip, hands and arms a blur as the knives ripped in and out, in and out, and every strike exploding with a little blast of dust.

The beringel huffed and brought its other hand up off the floor to smack Cardin backwards into Weiss — the glyph she had been conjuring dissolved into nothing — and bearing them both back through the front row of desks and into the second.

The grimm rounded on Russel, rearing up as it raised both first up towards the ceiling. Russel backed away as the fists flew down, slamming into the floor hard enough to make craters. The beringel tried to bring its fists down again, then tried more swatting sideswipes, but Russel was swift on his feet and able to stay a step ahead of the mighty hands.

Weiss, having crawled out from underneath Cardin, took advantage of the beringel's distraction with Russel to think. Speed was their ally here, since the beringel was too strong to be withstood by her barrier glyphs; they would just have to stay one step ahead of him.

And if they could stop the beringel from moving too, then so much the better.

She rotated Myrtenaster's chamber so that, instead of fire dust, she had blue ice dust loaded.

"Be ready to move on my signal," she instructed Cardin as she conjured an array of white glyphs all around the classroom, criss-crossing it in every direction, passing under and around the beringel as it lumbered in pursuit of Russel.

The beringel looked down at the glyphs appearing all around it.

Weiss swooped forward, racing along her glyphs towards the beringel's rear. She slashed out with Mytenaster, firing a blast of ice dust that crystallised around the beringel's leg, covering it in sparkling ice up to the haunch and pinning the grimm to the floor. She flew around it, her slender blade darting out to strike at the beringel's flank before she slid around in front of it.

The beringel raised both fists to slam them down on her, but Weiss was too quick, and both hammer-like hands struck down onto the floor. Weiss fired another blast of ice dust, catching both hands before they could rise again, sticking them to the floor as well as the ice dust rose up to the beringel's elbows.

"Now!" Weiss cried, cycling Myrtenaster's chamber from ice dust to yellow lightning dust.

Cardin followed in Weiss' gliding path, using her glyphs to flow forwards rapidly and hammer the beringel from the side, pounding on its thigh with Executioner. Flash charged out of Doctor Oobleck's office, Rho Aias recovered and Caliburn back in spear mode; he drove Caliburn into the beringel's flank, twisting the spear as he did so. Russel dived underneath the beringel and began to stab at its chest and belly with his flickering knives.

"Everyone hold back a moment," Weiss commanded, waiting until all their metal weapons were away from the beringel before she struck, on the side opposite to Flash, stabbing the beringel with her slim sword and unleashing the lightning dust stored within.

Yellow lightning rippled up and down the black body of the grimm, crackling, snapping, snarling, biting like dogs the lightning bit at the beringel. The grimm roared in pain, its whole body shook, it trembled in its icy restraints.

The beringel ripped its arms free of the ice with a great roar, its whole body rearing up as its arms rose to touch the ceiling — and then its whole body flopping down again right on top of Russel. Russel tried to roll away, but he was not fast enough this time, and Weiss had no glyphs beneath the beringel to help him. The grimm landed with a thud to shake the ceiling, and there was no sign of Russel underneath.

Weiss, Cardin, and Flash all renewed their assault, sword, mace, and spear rising and falling.

The beringel's restrained leg broke free of the ice as well and lashed out, prehensile toes gripping Cardin by the ankle and pulling him off balance. The grimm pushed itself up — exposing Russel to view, lying flat on the ground but with no visible injuries — and slammed its fist down on Flash.

Flash caught the blow on Rho Aias, his semblance enabling him to withstand the hideous strength without moving. Lightning erupted out of Rho Aias to blast up the beringel's arm, once more snapping and crackling as it tore towards the grimm's bony skull. The beringel did not flinch; rather, as the lightning rippled up its arm, it grabbed Rho Aias by the lip of the shield and pulled Flash forwards and flat on his face to the floor.

Weiss conjured a succession of black glyphs over him, five, six, seven black glyphs stacked in a row over Flash as the beringel's fist descended.

It broke the first glyph, and the second, and the third. Four, five glyphs shattered by the beringel's hand, the sixth crumbling, and the seventh … the seventh holding firm against the beringel's blow.

The grimm turned its head to regard her with a pair of burning red eyes.

It sprang for her, but Weiss first recoiled away then rushed forwards, skidding beneath the beringel's legs and behind it to grab Russel — his aura might not be broken, but by his wide eyes and the way he was shaking, he was in no fit state to rejoin the battle right now — and pull him at least a little way out of danger, to the doorway of the corridor. She slid forward on more glyphs to do the same for the injured Atlesian, dragging him out of reach.

Not that the beringel seemed to notice. Its attention was on Cardin, still grabbed by the foot despite the way that he hammered at the monster with his mace. The beringel grunted as it grabbed him by the hand, squeezing his shoulder and twisting Executioner out of his grip.

Weiss began to conjure hard light glyphs, Russel had impugned her lasers, but perhaps—

With this free hand, the beringel grabbed a section of desk and threw it at her, throwing her off her conjuring, causing her glyphs to flicker and die.

Flash, back on his feet, drove Caliburn into the small of the beringel's back.

The grimm rounded on him but still kept hold of Cardin, using him as a weapon, beating Flash with him; Cardin's arms flailed, and he cried out in pain as the beringel beat him up and down on Flash's upraised shield. Flash's semblance allowed him to absorb the shocks, but Cardin had no such luck, and in any case, Flash's semblance consumed his aura as much as the repeated impacts consumed Cardin's.

Weiss once more tried to summon her laser glyphs; no other blow she'd landed had been sufficient; it was all that she could think to try.

Cardin's aura broke, and the beringel threw him at Weiss, who had to swiftly dodge to avoid him. She just about managed to conjure a black glyph to catch him before he slammed into the wall, but how much softer that really was, she couldn't say.

Flash stabbed the beringel in the chest. It barely seemed to notice as it pounded on him with its immense fists, those great hammers rising and falling.

Flash stood like a tree buffeted by a storm, the winds of the hurricane pushing at the stiff old trunk.

The stiff old trunk that never bends but breaks.

Flash's aura broke, consumed by his semblance. The next blow of the beringel drove him into the floor. He cried out in pain.

His cry turned to a scream of agony as the next blow shattered his legs beneath the beringel's fist.

Weiss screamed too, a piercing scream of fear and frustration. If she did nothing, then Flash would die. Flash was helpless, aura broken, going to die if Weiss did nothing, and Weiss could do nothing. She couldn't help. She couldn't hurt this monster. All she could do was watch.

There's nothing I can do.

There must be something I can do!

The beringel's fist rose up, and fell.

A white hand, a shimmering white hand of ghostly samite, grabbed the grimm's descending fist and held it fast.

The beringel made a soft noise of confusion.

Weiss stared, wide-eyed. This hand, and the arm to which was attached, had emerged out of an ornate white glyph, elegant but inscrutable patterns swirling in the air in front of the beringel. The glyph, like the hand and the arm, were so pale as to be almost spectral, glowing like a vision from some other world, giving off a sort of smoke as though they were all some transient thing that began to decay by the mere act of being in the world.

And yet, at the same time, solid enough to stop the beringel's blow and hold it fast despite its efforts to free itself, for tug as it might, it could not break free.

Hand and arm alike were clad in armour, segmented plates of armour with sharp and overlapping edges.

She had seen this armour before, in her father's house — and in the battle she had been forced to fight before attending Beacon, when he had had a geist placed in one of his suits of armour and then loosed it on her.

A sword emerged from the same glyph, a long white sword, broader than Weiss or Flash, almost as broad as Cardin's chest, a sword that seemed it must be made for two hands yet here wielded in one. Another armoured arm drove that sword out of the glyph and into the beringel's chest and out the other side.

The beringel whimpered as it was lifted off the floor.

A warrior emerged out of the glyph, a giant warrior clad all in ghostly armour, everything concealed beneath the shimmering plate. Behind the slit in its visor, there lay nothing at all.

The arma gigas had to stoop to emerge out of the glyph, then straightened up; it was almost as tall as the high ceiling of the classroom. It looked down at the beringel hung upon its sword, and contemptuously shook it free.

As the beringel was flung through the air, the arma gigas swung its sword once more and cut it in two.

The grimm's ashes scattered across the room.

Weiss stared in amazement at the mighty warrior that she had summoned.

She had done it.

She had saved Flash.

Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes.

The arma gigas turned towards her. Taking a step forward, it placed its sword tip first upon the floor and knelt to her, upon one knee, as a retainer to his princess in some soppy old fairy story.

Weiss' whole body trembled.

She collapsed forward, her own much more slender blade hitting the floor point first as she leaned upon it, managing to only fall to her knees instead of flat on her face.

The arma gigas dissolved into nothing as her aura broke.

She heard footsteps, footsteps running down the corridor. She heard Blake's voice crying, "Weiss? Weiss?"

"In here!" Weiss shouted, her voice trembling just like her body. "In here, we need help!"

Blake's steps quickened yet further, and she burst in with Gambol Shroud in her hand. Her golden eyes darted around the room. "Weiss, are you—?" She gasped when she saw Flash, saw the bloody ruin that the grimm had made of his legs.

Weiss rose unsteadily to her feet. Without her aura, she felt so incredibly weary, so weak, as though she had gone days without food. She moved slowly, ever so slowly as she staggered across the ruined classroom, kneeling once more by Flash's side.

"Flash?" she whispered. "Flash, can you hear me?"

Flash groaned. His blue eyes flickered. "I … am I dreaming?"

"No," Weiss said, swallowing the phlegm that threatened to clog her throat. "No, I … I hope that a dream would be more pleasant than this."

Flash managed to smile weakly, but said, "But I thought … I thought I saw … saved by … a beautiful thing. Second most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

His eyes began to close.

"Flash!" Weiss cried. "No, Flash, you have to stay awake!" She looked at Blake. "My aura's broken; you'll have to carry him."

"Of course," Blake said, sheathing her sword as she ran towards them.

The sound of gunfire rattled out of Rainbow's scroll.

"This is Coco Adel!" Coco shouted over the sound of the gun. "We could use some assistance here!"

Team CFVY — what remained of Team CFVY — was one of the teams holding the path between the docking pads and the courtyard; just by looking west, Rainbow could see first the nearly-continuous muzzle flashes of Coco's weapon lighting up the darkness, and by looking through her goggles, she could see that Coco — and Velvet, who had copied Coco's weapon — were firing into a large group of mixed beowolves and ursai bearing down on them.

"Understood, Coffee," Rainbow said. "Ciel, go."

Ciel nodded and turned away, running westward down the path, Distant Thunder rising and falling in her arms as she ran.

With Ciel gone, that left just Rainbow, Rarity, and Team ONYX defending the courtyard.

Since she had sent Blake into the main school building to fetch WWSR, APDT, and GRAY, Rainbow had pulled the Haven Team PHIN out of the dining hall and sent them to hold the gap between the fairground and the courtyard, which in turn let her send Team UMBR onwards to join the fight in the fairgrounds itself. The grimm now occupied the dining hall — she could see them silhouetted against the flames — and used it to gather their strength in a degree of cover before launching attacks on either Team PHIN or on Rainbow and ONYX in the courtyard. She had also pulled another Haven team, APAA — pronounced 'apparel' — out of the dorms, leaving only Team SABR to hold them, and sent them to bolster the fairgrounds as well.

It was not ideal, and it had not been her first choice, but the situation in the fairground remained tense, and the fairground remained the place where they were still finding civilians who needed to be evacuated — they were still coming in a steady trickle down the path that the huntsmen held, to the courtyard and then west to the docking pads.

There were some civilians waiting in the courtyard, waiting for Ciel to reinforce Team CFVY and drive off this latest attack, but they were being swollen in number by people still arriving from the fairgrounds.

If the situation in the fairgrounds still wasn't stabilised … Rainbow could really do with Team WWSR back here; there wasn't a lot of other fat left.

"Rainbow Dash," the voice of Violet Valeria intruded upon her thoughts.

There was a moment when Rainbow wished that she was a praying person so that she could pray for some good news. "Violet, please tell me that you're contacting me because all the civilians are away."

"I wish I could say that," Violet said. "Your girl Ditzy is running around checking, but in the meantime, most of your Atlesian robots are down, and we've been enveloped on three sides now."

"Can you hold?" Rainbow asked.

"I wouldn't be calling if I was sure I could," Violet replied.

I'm not sitting on a bottomless pit of huntsmen, you know, Rainbow thought. This isn't a videogame where I can push a button and generate a new team for seventy-five lien a time. But one of the rules of leadership once you got down the list a little — twenty-five or twenty-six or something — was not losing your temper with your subordinates, and so, Rainbow took a deep breath before she responded.

I'll have to go down there myself. I haven't got anyone else to send. Once Blake gets back, she can take overall command.

Maybe the problem is Violet's been too defensive. With the grimm enveloping on three sides, they can't be that strong everywhere; a counterattack could roll them back and stabilise the situation.

I'll go and—

"Rainbow Dash!"

"Penny!" Rainbow cried, turning around to see Penny, Pyrrha, and Jaune approaching from the south, stepping into the lights that surrounded the courtyard. A ragged sigh of relief burst from Rainbow's mouth even as said mouth broke into a grin. "Am— Violet, hold on, just a second; I'll have something for you."

"Hurry up."

"Midnight, put me on mute," Rainbow said as she jogged forwards towards the three members of Team SAPR. "Penny, am I glad to see you!" She pulled her into a quick one-armed hug, contenting herself with a nod of welcome to Pyrrha and Jaune. "How's Ruby?"

"Still sleeping," Penny said. "We left her with Professor Ozpin."

"I kinda wish you'd left her somewhere alone and brought Professor Ozpin here with you, but never mind," Rainbow muttered. "What about…?" She licked her lips. "What about Amber?"

"She's gone," Penny said softly. "She left the school with Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Tempest Shadow."

"With Tempest?" Rainbow repeated, her voice rising a little. "Tempest's dead!"

"Not according to Benni Haven," Jaune replied. "She saw her — or at least someone who looks a lot like her — leaving with Amber and the others; they took the road towards Vale."

"How did Tempest die?" Pyrrha asked. "Or seem to die?"

"I don't know," Rainbow admitted. "Trixie just told me that she had. She could have fooled them, I guess." Poor Tsunami; they're going to feel like rubes when they find out. Or if they find out; it might be better to let them think—

Only if Tempest actually dies tonight; if she's still around, then they need to know in case they run into her again.

Poor Tsunami.

"So what about you?" she asked. "Where do you go from here?"

She hoped, she dared to hope, that they were here to help her out — they could certainly use the help — but at the same time, Rainbow tried to mentally prepare herself for the possibility that they were not, that Professor Ozpin had given them other orders, to guard the Relic, maybe, or get an airship somewhere into Vale, or kill Cinder or something else related to Salem and the secret war.

It would be a disappointment if they had, but it would be something she couldn't help and would have to make the best of.

"General Ironwood told us to report to you for instructions."

Yes! Thank you, thank you, General! "Thank the lights," Rainbow muttered. She cleared her throat. "Okay, here's what I want you to do: we still haven't evacuated everyone out of the fairgrounds — we think; it's confused over there; we're always finding new civilians still wondering what to do. Violet Valeria of Team Volcano is leading the defence, but I don't want you to take orders from her. Instead, what I want you to do is … the grimm are mainly advancing from the east, but they've worked around the open ground north of the fairgrounds, and they're pressing from the north and now from the west as well, but I think they must be weak to the west because their main forces are coming from the other side of the battlefield. So what I want you to do is head to the fairgrounds, then take Team Auburn and Team Tsunami, and I want you to counterattack the grimm on the western flank, okay? You come up from the south and hit them here like this," — Rainbow held up one hand palm flat, making a vertical straight line, and then slowly moved her other fist upwards to hit her flat palm on the wrist — "and then I want you to drive them back and roll them up all the way around the fairgrounds until they're only coming from the eastern side. That will mean there's a lot less ground to defend for the number of huntsmen. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Penny said.

"It sounds like a risk," Pyrrha murmured.

"I can't help that," Rainbow replied. "Playing defence has gotten us into a situation where most of our forces are down there already, and it's still not enough. We need a brisk counterattack to take some of the pressure off." She paused. "I know it's a big ask, but that's why I'm asking you. You're one of the best teams on the field right now; I need you to be—"

"The tip of the spear," Pyrrha said softly. "Put like that, how can we refuse?"

"We can't, and we won't," Penny declared. "You can rely on us, Rainbow Dash."

"I know," Rainbow said, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Now go to it." She stepped aside to let them pass. As they ran by, Pyrrha's sash fluttering out behind her, Rainbow said, "Midnight, unmute me."

"Done."

"Violet," Rainbow said. "I'm sending Team Sapphire your way. When they get there, I want them to join with Team Auburn and Team Tsunami and counterattack the grimm coming in from the west."

"'Counterattack'?"

"Yes, I think it should relieve the pressure if we can drive back their flanking forces," Rainbow said.

"I understand," Violet said. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash." Her voice rose, and Rainbow understood that she was not speaking directly to Rainbow Dash as she shouted. "Take heart, sons and daughters! Stand fast, for the Champion comes to our aid!"

Rainbow rolled her eyes. Mistralians.

"Rainbow Dash!" Blake's voice rose sharply out of Rainbow's scroll.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Did you find Wisteria?"

"I left Team Aspidistra holding the school doors, but the interior has been abandoned," Blake said. "Team Gray is … helping me with the wounded."

Rainbow blinked. Her faunus ears pricked up on top of her head. "Helping you … how bad is it?"

There was a pause, then Blake said, "We had to leave two dead bodies in Doctor Oobleck’s classroom; Atlesians, but I didn’t recognise them, I don’t think they came down with us. We’ve got another student I don’t know wounded and on top of that Team Wisteria is… they’re pretty well out of it right now. Weiss' aura has been broken; Russel still has some of his aura, but I think he's in shock; Cardin's badly hurt; and Flash…"

"Flash is what?" Rainbow demanded. Flash is … dead? She could hardly imagine that. They'd never been super close, but he'd always been there, a friendly face in the corridor or around the table. Poor Flash, stuck with a girlfriend like Sunset; poor Flash, pining after Twilight; poor Flash, isn't it terrible what happened to his old man? Good old Flash, trying his best; good for Flash, finding his semblance like that; Flash sure plays a mean guitar.

Good luck, Flash, I wish you were coming to Atlas.

Flash's funeral was a very dignified affair.

No. No, it can't be. "Flash what, Blake?"

"His legs," Blake replied, the words sounding like they'd burst out unbidden. Her voice dropped. "I think he'll lose both legs."

Behind Rainbow, Rarity whimpered.

Rainbow's ears drooped down on top of her head. That was … at least he was alive, but at the same time, it was hardly good news. Both legs? To lose one was bad enough, but to lose both? Living was the only consolation for something like that. "What happened?"

"A beringel," Blake explained. "Weiss killed it in the end, just before I got there, but it took all of her aura. I'm carrying Flash now, and I can hear the pain in every breath that Cardin takes. Team Wisteria's down, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow cursed inwardly. "I see," she muttered. "Okay, take them to the docking pads; you say Team Gray is escorting you?"

"Yes. And helping Cardin to walk."

"Right," Rainbow said. "Make sure Flash and Cardin get on board an airship ASAP; if Russel doesn't seem better by the time you get there, get him aboard too. Weiss can stay or go; it's her choice. She might want to keep an eye on her team. But once you've got them to the docking pads, I need you to come back here with Team Gray."

"Understood."

Rainbow closed her eyes.

I'm so sorry, Flash.

She ran one hand through her rainbow hair as she turned around to face Rarity.

Rarity looked pale, even paler than usual, which was saying quite a lot. Her mouth was covered with both her hands, and her blue eyes — already big, and made to seem bigger with the purple eyeshadow she wore — had grown wide with horror.

Rainbow tried to find a reassuring smile as she closed the distance to her friend. "It's gonna be okay," she said. She reached out to put a hand on Rarity's shoulder. "Flash is gonna be okay."

"But Blake—" Rarity began.

"I know," Rainbow said softly. "But they'll get him stabilised up on the Comfort, and then they'll take him home to Atlas, and once he's there, they'll fit him with a new set of legs. With who his mother is, her connections, he'll get a top-of-the-line pair, just like that."

She snapped her fingers.

And then no one will look at him the same way again. People won't see him as human anymore; they'll look at him and see a machine or a monster.

Someone really ought to change that part of our society, too.

"And he'll be back on his feet in no time," she said to Rarity. "Back on his feet … good as new."

Pyrrha led the charge, Miló switching fluidly from sword to spear and back again as she cut, then thrust, then threw her shield to decapitate an alpha, then changed briefly to gun to fire off her last few shots, then switched back to spear to whirl it before her in both hands. Against a particularly tough-looking foe, a wave of aura rippled from the tip of Miló to tear through the grimm before her.

Arslan was on her right, wordless roars ripping from the throat of the Golden Lion, Nemean Claw gleaming in one hand; sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, Pyrrha saw her reach for the necklace of fire dust crystals that she habitually wore, only to realise that she’d used them all up in her fight against Pyrrha. They were none of them starting this battle in the completely fresh state they would have liked. Nonetheless, Arslan pushed on at Pyrrha’s side, roaring, punching, kicking, throwing her knife to bury it in the necks of grimm and then retrieve it by the string wound around her hands. Sometimes, her blows had the force of aura behind them; Pyrrha felt the aftershocks through the air, blowing through her ponytail.

Trixie was on Pyrrha’s left, her wand in one hand, and in the other, a replica of Blake’s Gambol Shroud, fashioned out of aura by Trixie’s teammate Sunburst. Fire erupted from the tip of Trixie’s wand while she switched between gun and sword almost as smoothly as Blake did. Her starry cape streamed out behind her as she charged forward, and her tall pointy hat looked forever as though it was on the verge of flying off her head.

Starlight and Bolin held the flanks of the wedge; Starlight’s weapon was in its polearm configuration, the blade glowing a brilliant blue that lit up the darkness; Bolin’s staff whirled in his grasp. Starlight had asked to copy Jaune’s semblance before they began their assault, and so, her hands would glow with a brilliant opal light as she strengthened her arms to cut down the mightiest foes that confronted her.

Jaune was right behind Pyrrha, sometimes stepping out to the right, sometimes to the left to blast dust outwards at the grimm before them, sometimes sheathing Crocea Mors to give someone a much needed boost to their aura. Sunburst was with him, a wind dust crystal set in his staff which he used to blast grimm aside from the safety of the second rank.

And in the centre of the wedge was Penny, the swords of Floating Array rising on their wires above the heads of Pyrrha and Jaune and all the rest before descending like thunderbolts upon the grimm. She scythed them down like wheat in the harvest time.

They charged forth, driving through the flank of the grimm, and as they cut through their ranks, the embattled huntsmen who had struggled to hold them back cheered for them; they did not cheer so loud as the crowds in the arena had cheered earlier that day, but as their cheers rang in the ears of Pyrrha and the others, she reflected that the cheers meant more, just as this battle meant more, than all the loud applause that they had won in the arena.

And so, with the cheering echoing in their ears and stiffening their hearts, they charged forwards, slicing through the grimm that confronted them. This was their aristeia, their slaughter of which the poets sang, as the grimm fell before them like a great tree falling to the woodcutter’s axe.

It was not enough.

For every grimm that fell, two more took its place; three more, even. They shattered the western flank of the grimm assault, but as they turned upon the northern wing, as they pushed eastward, so the numbers of the grimm increased and the momentum of their charge collapsed into a battle to hold the line against the constantly replenishing creatures that confronted them.

As she hacked and slashed and thrust her spear to strike down every grimm that came against her only to see more grimm step forward over their smouldering bodies, as she felt her arms beginning to grow heavy, Pyrrha began to fear that they would truly need the Atlesian air support to hurl the grimm back and that if it did not come soon, then the tide of the battle for Beacon would turn against them.

Atlesian air support, or a miracle.

Ozpin was collapsed into his chair. He could barely move. He could barely think — or rather, the only thing that he could think was one thing.

Amber had betrayed him.

Amber had betrayed all of them, but him especially. Amber, the Fall Maiden, the girl he had known since she was a babe in arms, had betrayed him.

“Are you really that surprised?” Amber asked.

She stood in the centre of his office, looking down at him where he sat, half-sprawled, in his chair. The scars on her face, the scars that Cinder had inflicted upon her, the scars that rebuked him for his failure to protect her, were especially visible upon her face. There was no makeup to hide or soften them now, and even the dim light of the office did not hide them.

They all stood out so clearly, and all of them cried out to him that they were his fault, that all of this was his fault.

“Why wouldn’t I betray you?” Amber asked, taking a step towards him. Her arms were held out at her sides, and she raised them as though she was trying to embrace them. “After all the things that you have done to me, what reason, what right do you have to expect loyalty from me, to demand devotion?”

“I loved you,” Ozpin whispered. “I still love you.”

“You ruined my life! That’s not love!” Amber shrieked. “You never asked me if I wanted to be your Maiden; you never gave me a choice — or a chance.”

“None of us are given a chance,” Raven muttered. “Even those of us who got a choice.”

“That’s not true!” Summer insisted. “We all—”

“Whose child is that lying there on the floor?” Raven demanded, gesturing at the sleeping, unconscious form of Miss Rose lying there. “It’s yours, isn’t it? It’s your daughter who's lying here because she got mixed up in all of this.” Her voice became hoarse, almost choked. “Who grew up without a mother because you got mixed up in all this?”

Summer fell silent, staring at Raven, staring at Miss Rose, pointedly not looking at Ozpin.

Then she disappeared.

Leaving Ozpin without a champion or a defender, not that he deserved one.

“I almost died for this once,” Amber reminded him, as though he could have forgotten. “I almost died for something that I never wanted. Why should I risk my life for it again and again, over and over again until death claims me? Why should I cleave to you, just so that you can find someone else to inherit my magic when I’m gone?”

“I thought I was brave before I met you,” Raven declared. “I thought that I was strong, I thought that I was resilient, I thought that I could handle anything that Remnant threw at me. And when I met Summer and Tai, when I met my first friends, I thought that together we could … but you showed me such things as took my courage clean away. You killed my friend, you killed Summer … and you killed the vision of myself I had. You killed the me I thought I was, and the me I wanted to become.”

“You killed my self-respect,” Lionheart said, as he appeared where Summer had been standing just a second ago. “You trapped me in Mistral, prey to every condescending remark, every racist microaggression, every sneer, every curled lip. Did you ever wonder how lonely I’d become?”

“So many betrayals,” Raven murmured. “So many people turned against you. Did you ever wonder if maybe you were the problem?”

“Of course he’s wondered that,” Salem said. She appeared next to Amber, so tall that her head nearly touched the slowly grinding gears of the clock. She glided forwards, her feet and the hem of her black dress obscured by smoke rising up around her. “It’s always on his mind.” She stood over him now, leaning down, hands pale as death upon his desk, red eyes staring down at him. “It’s a monster that stalks him while he wakes and gnaws upon him while he sleeps. It never rests but always lurks at the back of his mind, whispering.” She smiled. “I’ve come to triumph over you when all is won, Ozpin.”

Ozpin fought to control the trembling in his hands. “You are not here.”

“No,” Salem conceded. Her smile widened, her teeth flashing like knives. “But I have triumphed over you.”

“Not yet you haven’t,” Miss Shimmer said.

Ozpin looked to his right. There, Miss Shimmer stood, leaning against the window, arms folded across her chest. Her ears were drooped down into her fiery hair, and she was glaring at Salem.

“Don’t count your grades until you get the papers back,” she said. “You haven’t triumphed yet.”

Salem straightened up, turning to face Miss Shimmer. “My grimm are rampaging across the school; the Fall Maiden has given herself into my hands and will deliver the Relic of Choice the same way.” She chuckled. “Where is my disadvantage?”

Miss Shimmer straightened up and walked around the edge of the room, until she stood over Ozpin, over his shoulder, glaring at Salem and Amber and Raven.

She leaned over Ozpin’s shoulder, and with his hand, she pushed a button on his desk. The glass surface of the desk flickered, and a half-dozen windows opened up, projected up in front of him.

They were images coming from the cameras placed around the school, images of the battle raging in the school right now, while he sat here in his tower. Looking at them, forcing himself to look at them, Ozpin could see Miss Nikos, Mister Arc, and Miss Polendina fighting alongside some Haven and Atlas students with whom he was much less familiar. He could see Miss Dash, James’ prized protégé, directing the defences. He could see Miss Xiao Long and her teammates fighting to hold the grimm back from the docking pads as people queued to get aboard airships. He could see the battle raging across Beacon as students from all four academies, even Shade, fought to hold back the grimm and defend the school and those who had come here in good faith.

Miss Shimmer gestured to the screens, her hand pointing to the feed of Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina, and Mister Arc.

“There!” she snapped. “There is your disadvantage!”

The smile slid off Salem’s face. “For now.”

Miss Shimmer huffed and snapped her fingers.

Salem, Amber, and Raven all just disappeared, turning to smoke as though they were grimm and Miss Shimmer had slain them all. They were banished from his office just as Miss Shimmer — the real Miss Shimmer — had been banished from the school by Miss Rose.

“That’s better,” Miss Shimmer said. “We can have a conversation now.” She walked around Ozpin’s desk until she was on the other side of it, the side on which Salem and the rest had confronted him just a moment ago.

She looked down at him, but with less hostility in her green eyes than they had shown in theirs. “Look at them, Professor,” she implored him. “Please.”

“I can see, Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin replied quietly.

“Look again,” Sunset said. “And tell me that you can fault their courage.”

“I have never denied their courage,” Ozpin told her. “Only…”

Miss Shimmer sat down on the desk, twisting her body at the waist to look at him still. “Only your own?”

“As you are me, sprung out of my head, it would be pointless to deny it, would it not?”

“Just because I’m you doesn’t mean I’m right,” Miss Shimmer told him. “Any more than they were right before. Which they weren’t by the way; you can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault that you have been ill-used and betrayed.”

“Is it not?” Ozpin asked.

“No!” Miss Shimmer said hotly. “No, of course not.”

Ozpin looked away. He gave a little wan smile. “If someone is continuously getting in car accidents, there comes a time when he should ask if he is perhaps the bad driver, no? If I am forever being betrayed, should I not ask if I am responsible for my own betrayals?”

Miss Shimmer scratched between her eyebrows. “Look again at those cameras, Professor, look at Pyrrha and Jaune and Penny, and you will be reminded that, for all that the betrayals may stick in your mind, they’re far outnumbered by the people who remained loyal to you.”

Ozpin’s eyes wandered back to that particular camera, to see Miss Nikos fighting with might and main against the hordes of grimm, Mister Arc supporting all their allies with his semblance as best he could, Miss Polendina striking from behind the line. And their comrades, too, their friends from Atlas and Haven, all of them fighting so hard.

Everyone was fighting so fine.

“Look at them shine, Professor,” Miss Shimmer whispered. “Look at them shine so brightly as they streak across the sky.”

Ozpin glanced at her. “Princess Celestia’s words.”

“She is very wise,” Miss Shimmer said, smiling at him. “And never wrong.”

“Then she must be very wise indeed, to be never wrong,” Ozpin murmured. “But in this case…”

He fell silent, his words trailing off as he watched the battle unfolding, the valour on display, the skill. The skill was beautiful, though not so beautiful as the brave hearts which animated that skill and gave it purpose.

Though the night was dark, they did indeed shine brightly. He could not deny that. He would not try to deny that.

“Professor Lionheart betrayed you,” Miss Shimmer said, “but General Ironwood has not, nor Professor Goodwitch. Raven betrayed you, but Summer Rose didn’t, nor Qrow, or Ruby’s father. Amber betrayed you…” — she ran one hand over the top of her fiery hair — “and I betrayed you too.”

“I have never thought that, Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin said.

Miss Shimmer raised her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Ozpin stared back at her, his face impassive.

Miss Shimmer sighed. “But Pyrrha hasn’t, nor Jaune, Ruby, Penny; Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, they’re loyal too, albeit to General Ironwood instead of you specifically, but loyal nonetheless. The point is that, while I get that it can seem as though you're surrounded by traitors, you’re really not. They’re far outnumbered by all the people, all the brilliant people, all the lights in the sky that are loyal to you and your cause.”

“Even unto death,” Ozpin murmured.

“Well, if that’s what you’re worried about, why don’t you do something about it?!” Miss Shimmer snapped. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Professor, but … you shouldn’t blame yourself for the fact that a few people have betrayed you. But if you wanted to blame yourself for the fact that you’re sat up here on your hindquarters while there’s a battle going on downstairs, that wouldn’t be entirely undeserved.” She got up off the desk. “They need help, Professor. This is your school: you built this place; you turned it into a place they wanted to go, a place that they would fight to defend it. They still defend it. They risk their lives defending it. How can you do any less?

“Please, Professor, I know … I know you’re scared.” Miss Shimmer frowned. “I was scared too. I was scared of what would happen to them. Please don’t leave them.”

Ozpin looked at his staff, propped up against his desk. He gingerly reached for it, almost stroking the white domed head, fingertips not quite touching the surface.

So many years. So many battles.

So much power.

What had he been saving it for, if not for this?

“You wound me, Miss Shimmer,” Ozpin said. “And yet, you wound me precisely as I deserve.”

He looked at them all, all fighting, all striving, all defending his school while he … while he used others as his weapons.

So do all great lords if they are wise.

No. No, it was not always so.

It need not always be so.

Ozpin got to his feet and took up his staff. “I fear that I must be going,” he said. “Thank you, Miss Shimmer.”

Miss Shimmer shook her head. “You’ve no one to thank but yourself, Professor.”

Ozpin nodded to her and strode briskly towards the elevator. His back was straight once more, his gait was firm, his stride was long.

His steps did not falter.

His breathing was calm as he stepped into the lift and let it bear him downwards.

He rested the tip of his cane on the floor as the elevator ground down. Perhaps he should have installed a swifter lift. It had never seemed the most urgent use of funds. There had always been something else — RAAC discovered in the main building, asbestos in the dorm rooms, expanded weapons maintenance facilities — that demanded urgent attention and resources.

The speed or otherwise of the elevator had never seemed to be of any great concern.

Yet now, having decided to go down and join the fight, Ozpin began to feel some of that same impatience that his students must have felt when coming up to see him.

He could only hope that they had taken the opportunity to have some scintillating and illuminating conversations on the way.

For himself, he had had his fill of such for tonight.

Of course, if I had decided to move sooner, if I had done what I should have done when the battle began, I would have no reason to curse the elevator for its sloth.

In this instance, I really do have no one to blame but myself.

The elevator reached the bottom, and the doors opened out on to the ghastly Atlesian décor of the tower lobby. He appreciated the CCT, but he didn’t understand why it couldn’t have been made to look more Valish. His own office was the only place in the whole tower that looked of a piece with the rest of Beacon’s aesthetic. It was almost enough to make one believe that the Atlesians were trying to assimilate the world by stealth.

Almost.

It was not something that had to bother him for very long, as his swift steps carried him to the door and beyond.

A large group of grimm waited outside, under the leadership of a beringel.

The grimm seemed to have been waiting for him, for as soon as he stepped out of doors, they rose to their feet, and a clamour of howling rose out of their throats.

Ozpin regarded them evenly. They were too close for him to use the cane. It required a little time to use.

So he would need to deal with these grimm first.

He twirled his cane lightly in his hand as he descended a step.

He looked at the grimm over his small, round spectacles.

“Who would like to go first?” he asked calmly.

Many of them would, or none of them, for they sprang at him not one at a time but in a great mass of black fur and oily bodies, white masks and red eyes all blurring together as they rushed up the steps towards him.

Ozpin met them with his cane, a cane that moved so swiftly it blurred even before his eyes. He shimmered in the air before the creatures of grimm, moving like a haze in the air, never where they saw him but always somewhere else just beyond, so that their leaps and bites and charges descended on empty air before his staff descended upon them. His strokes were light — he favoured the thrust rather than the clubbing stroke; it was so much more elegant — but his thrusting blows were so rapid, landing on the target in quick succession, that they were more powerful collectively than the strongest clubbing blow could have been.

Grimm fell before him, and when the grimm pressed about him too numerously, he protected himself by conjuring up an emerald shield of magic to withstand them until he was ready to burst forth like a butterfly and assault them once more.

With his cane, he fought his way through the grimm, slaying them left and right to reach the beringel who led them. The beringel took to throwing grimm at him in an attempt to slow him down, but Ozpin didn’t even need to dodge; he simply shimmered in place, his body a blur, appearing to move in all directions at once and none, and the grimm passed harmlessly through him. Or else his cane lashed out to strike them down.

He rushed towards the beringel. The grimm bellowed in anger and raised an enormous fist to crush him.

The fist came down. Ozpin’s cane rose up.

The tip of his cane struck one of the beringel’s fingers, stopping it in its tracks. Ozpin had barely felt a thing.

The beringel recoiled, howling in pain as it clutched at its hand.

Ozpin leapt up, his body rising into the air, rising above the moon, letting the light catch his hair before he began to fall, descending like a thunderbolt, towards the hapless, helpless beringel.

If you wanted to contain me, Salem, you should have sent much more.

How disappointing.

The beringel yelped as Ozpin drove his cane down, shattering the grimm’s skull and penetrating its head with a single blow.

The rest of the grimm seemed to gasp in horror as Ozpin landed on the ground and turned towards them.

Having finished off the rest of the grimm, Ozpin stood alone in the square before the tower.

He looked down at the cane in his hands. Inside, stored within the gears that seemed to be merely a part of the handle, was an immense store of kinetic energy, the byproduct of all the battles in which he had used the cane — and he had fought many battles. Every blow, every strike, it all added to the energy within the cane. Even this little affair had made his cane a little more powerful.

And what was stored could be released.

And for what had he stored it away, if not against such a moment as this?

He was not near the centre of the school; parts of the grounds were a long way off from here. But moving closer to the centre of the school would invite questions — not least about the cane — that he did not really wish to answer.

And after so long, there was enough energy within to manage.

Ozpin raised his cane up, like a sword held before his face. He closed his eyes for a moment to focus himself, then opened them again.

He concentrated. He willed.

He called upon the power of battles long ago, of combats fought, of enemies defeated, of places saved or sacked, of armies laid low, of grimm hordes turned away.

So many battles. So much death.

So much drawn together for this.

The gears of the cane began to glow golden. The glow became brighter, brighter and brighter, as motes of emerald light began to drift out of the cane to hover around Ozpin like friendly fireflies.

He could feel the power, the power of the cane, and his own power also. He could feel it pricking at his hands, he could feel it trembling down his arms, he could feel the flood, and he could feel the walls cracking.

The gears of the cane shone brighter than the sun, the gears obscured from sight by the sheer brightness.

Golden light raced up the cane to the tip, and motes of gold rose also, mingling with the motes of green that danced around.

Ozpin pushed down upon the level built into the handle.

A shield of emerald magic surrounded him as rays of light rippled up and down the cane, whooshing with excitement, hissing with delight like eager creatures kept on leashes for too long and now, at last, set free to run.

The beam leapt out, erupting from the cane, bursting from the shield and spreading out, out, out across the whole of Beacon to cleanse the school of all its darkness.

Author's Note

I kept Flash's injury here, and kept it tied to Weiss' summoning, because I really liked that scene in the original - which is why it plays out in much the same way even though the words are rewritten - and so I didn't see any reason not to have it or something like it here as well.

Having done very well so far, Rainbow's plan starts to strain at the seams a bit here, mostly due to her having somewhat underestimate the amount of pressure the grimm would put the fairgrounds under. This then necessitates the use of Ozpin's cane.

Ozpin's cane is something that had the particular group of RWBY watchers that I know frothing and raging when it was revealed in volume 8, at least some of them (one of them in particular) with the question of why he didn't use it to defend Beacon, or against Cinder, being raised very vocally. So now he uses it at Beacon, which of course means that he can't use it again later on.

It was good to give Ozpin a moment of glory here after so many chapters sitting up in his tower watching events from afar.

After the Blast (New)

After the Blast

Rainbow Dash fired both her machine pistols, blazing away at the grimm so close by that she could hardly miss.

Bullets flew from Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome, blasting out of the flashing muzzles to rip into the swarm of grimm.

Right up until they didn’t.

First Plain Awesome, then Brutal Honesty stopped firing, and Rainbow was rewarded with a series of clicks as the mechanisms on her empty weapons worked.

Rainbow gritted her teeth as she thrust her pistols back into their holsters and raised her fists.

“Okay then, you want some?” she shouted. “Come on!”

The grimm charged forward, growling and snarling.

And then an explosion split the sky. It looked almost as though there’d been a lightning strike, although there had been no lightning yet tonight, no rain, no adverse weather forecasts predicting a storm. But it looked like lightning, golden lightning lancing down out of the sky to land near Beacon Tower. There was a kind of weird sound, like a hooting, like a whooping alert calling the crew to General Quarters, and then there was the unmistakable sound of an explosion.

There was a bright light, there was a light so bright that Rainbow had to take a step back and shield her eyes despite the presence of the grimm. Except that the grimm all seemed to have stopped; from what Rainbow could see, which wasn’t too much, they were turning to look at the blinding light from the tower behind them.

And the blast that was erupting out from that same explosion, expanding out in all directions in a dome of brilliant golden light, devouring everything in its path.

“TAKE COVER!” Rainbow bellowed at the top of her voice, and she turned and ran towards Rarity who was standing, hand covering her eyes, standing frozen as the blast expanded.

Rainbow closed the distance in an instant, a rainbow trail streaming behind her as she slammed into Rarity. She wrapped her arms around her as she leapt clear over the courtyard statue — what was left of it — and landed on the other side, throwing Rarity to the ground with Rainbow on top of her.

Rainbow covered Rarity with her body; she was taller than Rarity, and broader in the shoulders too, and she angled her body so that she was facing the blast, her arms cradling Rarity’s head, her chin resting on Rarity’s forehead.

Rainbow closed her eyes, though the brightness of the blast felt like it was burning through her eyelids. She could see the golden light, barely filtered by the shutting of her eyes, and she could feel…

She could feel warmth. She could feel heat, rather; it only felt warm for a second, and then it felt hot. It felt so hot. It felt sort of Vacuo hot; Rainbow had never felt this hot before, but she imagined that it must be what living in the desert felt like.

She heard the grimm cry out in horror; it almost sounded as though they were screaming.

And then it was gone. The sudden heat, passing over her, receded, and the cool night air of Beacon returned.

Rainbow lay there for a moment, on top of Rarity, shielding her protectively. Her breathing was heavy. Her body was shaking a little.

But she was alive.

“Rarity,” Rainbow murmured; she coughed, because something had gotten into her throat. “Are you okay?”

“You’re a little heavy, darling,” Rarity replied, in a voice that was trembling despite her efforts to control it. “But other than that, I’m fine.”

Rainbow let out a little ragged laugh. “Sorry,” she muttered. She opened her eyes. Everything looked … normal. The statue behind which they’d taken cover was still intact, or at least as intact as it had been before the blast. The courtyard also looked fine, and it looked even better as Rainbow got up, looking around even as she held out a hand to help Rarity get up as well.

In fact, the courtyard looked better than fine because all the grimm were gone. There was not a single one left. There was only their ashes, rising lazily up into the air.

The blast had consumed them anyway, even though it had left the statue and the dorms and the other buildings around the courtyard and now Rainbow could even see the tower again, with its lights glowing in the distance. It all looked as though nothing had happened.

Rainbow coughed again. “Is anyone hurt?” she called. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’re okay,” said Orlando Adrian, the leader of Team ONYX. “It gave us a scare, but it didn’t hurt us.” He paused. “Hurt the grimm though, by the looks of things.”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow said. “All teams,” she coughed. “All teams, report in; how are you doing? Just as importantly, how are the grimm doing?”

“What grimm?” Yang asked. “I mean, there was this big flash of light, and I thought we were in big trouble when I saw that explosion, but then, after it got hot for a second, basically nothing. We’re all fine here, and more importantly, so are all the civilians. And the airships.” There was a pause. “Okay, the civilians are kind of freaked out by what just happened, but I’m sure I can calm them down. It’s okay, folks! It is okay! As you can say, we are all alive, and we’re not even hurt! And the grimm are gone!”

“The grimm are gone where you are too?” Rainbow asked.

“Oh, yeah, the grimm are all gone. It’s like the blast killed them but didn’t hurt us.”

“Do you think it could be a semblance?” asked Blake, her voice coming out of Rainbow’s scroll. “I’m fine, by the way. I’m on my way back to you now, but what do you think that was?”

“I don’t know, I’ve got no idea, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a semblance,” Rainbow replied.

“What makes you so sure?” asked Blake.

“Because it’s too big to be a semblance!” Rainbow declared. “And if someone could make an explosion like that with their semblance, why wouldn’t they have done it already? And from the tower? Who’s even at the tower? Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m glad you’re coming back, but I need to hear the status reports from the other teams; can everyone please keep them coming?”

“Team Sabre here; I think I have broken ribs,” Sabine grumbled. “Not because of the explosion but because Bella shoved me out of the way of the explosion, forgetting that my aura was broken.”

Rainbow snorted. “That’s the price you pay for being a charismatic leader whom your teammates want to protect—”

“Not something you’d know anything about from experience.”

Rainbow ignored that. “You should be flattered. No other injuries?”

“Just a lot of dead grimm in front of us.”

“Ciel here; I am quite well.”

“Team Coffee here; all good.”

“Team Gray here; we’re fine.”

“The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie and her team have escaped without … further loss.”

Or any loss at all, Rainbow thought, wondering how in Remnant she was going to break that to Trixie.

“Team Funky reporting; everything is A-OK.”

“Team Aspidistra here; we’re good to go.”

“Team Umber is intact and in good shape,” Umber announced. “Although I’m not sure that I’d expect an answer from any Haven team right away.”

Rainbow frowned. “Why n—?”

"MISTRAL VICTOR!" the shout that emerged from Rainbow's scroll came from many throats, although Rainbow thought that she could make out Arslan Altan's voice prominently amongst them. "Mistral Victor!"

The shout was repeated, becoming more irregular, individuals losing harmony with one another and allowing Rainbow to pick out the voices of Violet Valeria and her VLCA teammates, hers and Ciel's opponents in the two-on-two round.

She listened for Sun, but didn't think that she could hear him — it still wasn't that easy to make out all the voices, just because there were a lot of them — but she thought that she could make out his buddy Neptune amongst the shouting students.

"Mistral Victor!"

Rainbow was torn between wanting to smile or roll her eyes. And people give Atlas grief for stuff like this. Not that there was anything wrong with a bit of celebration, and Rainbow would be glad to raise a shout once they actually did win.

They hadn't won yet.

Still, it was good that their morale was high, perhaps especially considering that they hadn't won yet.

"Penny," Rainbow said. When there was no answer, she raised her voice. "Penny, can you hear me?"

"Just about, Rainbow Dash," Penny replied.

Rainbow grinned. "Does it look how I imagine it looks over there?"

"Um … everyone's waving their weapons in the air while they shout?"

"Yeah, that's about what I imagined," Rainbow said.

"It feels very exciting," Penny declared. "I wish I could join in."

"I'm sure no one will hold it against you if you do," Rainbow told her.

"But I'm not a Haven student or a Mistralian, so I probably shouldn't," Penny replied. "You don't know if there's a Beacon shout, do you?"

"I'm afraid not," Rainbow answered. "Is Pyrrha joining in?"

"Yes," Penny said. "But her cheeks have gone a little pink."

"You're all okay then?" Rainbow asked. "You, Pyrrha, Jaune?"

"Yes, we're all fine here," Penny announced. "That light didn't seem to do anything to us, even though it destroyed the grimm. It felt … a little weird, when it passed over me, kind of tingly, like static electricity, but then it was gone again. Do you know what it was?"

"No, Penny, I don't; that's what I want you to try and find out for me," Rainbow said. "I want you to go back to the tower and see what you can see, any evidence of what that was. And check on Professor Ozpin again; he's probably fine, but he was a lot closer to the blast than we were, so just make sure."

"Understood!" Penny said. "Pyrrha, Jaune, we've got a job to do!"

"Blake," Rainbow said, before pausing. "No, sorry, Trixie, I need you to get over to the courtyard and take command in my absence." As much as Rainbow liked Blake, and as much as Rainbow thought that Blake could absolutely take command, the fact remained that she wasn't even a team leader, and it might be hard to get people — people who were team leaders, especially — to take orders from her. Trixie was not as good a huntress, but she was a better choice for this.

"Clearly, the Grrrrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie will be happy to issue all necessary orders," Trixie declared. "But what's this 'in my absence'? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to scout down to the cliffs and see if the grimm are really all gone or if there are any of them still out there," Rainbow said.

"I'll come with you," Blake said. "I'm almost at the courtyard."

"No need; I'll move faster on my own," Rainbow said.

"If the grimm aren't all gone, you'll be glad of the backup."

"And if the grimm aren't all gone, I'll be glad you're here at the lynchpin of the line," Rainbow replied. "Hold your position in the courtyard; I'll report back soon."

She sped off, trailing a rainbow in her wake as she dashed around the side of the dorms and out across the open ground towards the forest-facing cliffs. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and turned on the night vision mode, so that even as she left the lights of the courtyard and the school behind, she could still see what she was doing — and see any grimm who might still be out here, what was more.

She saw none. She saw — or thought that she saw, because even with night vision, it was hard to make out in the dark — the swirling ashes, gently rising to the sky, that were all that remained of dead grimm, but living grimm? Not a one. Not an ursa or beowolf on the ground, not a nevermore or griffon in the skies; Beacon was deserted of them. There were no growling sounds, no snarls; the only noises that she could hear were the Haven students in the fairgrounds with their tails up. Occasionally, Rainbow stopped running to get a better look around, in case the reason she wasn't seeing any grimm was that she was moving too fast, but even when she stopped and took a look, she still didn't see anything. Not a grimm in sight.

Not a single one.

Of all the grimm who had descended on Beacon, all the grimm who had threatened them just a little while ago, they had all just disappeared.

Swept away by that … whatever it was. Rainbow was loath to keep thinking of it as an explosion, considering that it had only killed grimm and left the people and the buildings completely unharmed, but … what else was it? What else were you supposed to call something that went off with a bang and spread death out from its epicentre?

Besides a real stroke of luck, that was.

With a little more luck, Team SAPR would soon find out what it was that they'd seen and what had saved them; more important was finding out just how completely it had saved them.

Rainbow covered the rest of the distance to the cliffs swiftly and without seeing a single grimm along the way. As she reached the cliffs, she did at least see something other than herself: the redoubtable Atlesian Skybolts with their huge fuel tanks balanced on the tail and their massive Tempest cannons mounted beneath the fuselage. They were swooping across the skies, flying low across the cliff face, but they weren't shooting at anything. They were rolling, turning in the air, flying back and forth across the cliffs without engaging.

Because there was nothing to engage. Rainbow stood on the cliff edge and looked down; she looked in either direction, and she couldn't see a single grimm. Not a one climbing up the cliffs, not one emerging out of the forest. They were all gone. All dead, it seemed.

If she looked south, then unfortunately, the grimm beyond the forest, massed beyond the Green Line, were very much still in evidence; even in the darkness, there were so many of them that their black mass was unmistakable, and they were making enough noise that it was carrying faintly all the way to Rainbow's ears. That was why the Mistralians were being a little premature about their celebration. But as for Beacon, and maybe even for the Emerald Forest, there was nothing to see.

Nothing to see and nothing to worry about.

They were all gone. Dead and gone.

I don't know how it happened, but I'm glad it did.

"Attention everyone," Rainbow announced. "I'm now standing on the edge of the cliffs and can confirm that there are no grimm on the grounds of the school or on the cliffs themselves. Therefore, I want all teams to focus on searching for civilians and getting everyone to the docking pads for evacuation."

"With no grimm gone, why do we still need to evacuate?" asked Nora.

"Because the grimm might come back, and Amity is still safer," Rainbow replied. "Midnight, put me through to General Ironwood."

Ironwood was forced to turn away, the brightness of the blast that suddenly erupted from near Beacon Tower forcing him to flinch, to cover his face, to screw his eyes tight shut.

"All hands, brace for impact!" he shouted as the explosive dome rushed towards them, consuming buildings, grimm, and airships alike.

He felt an intense momentary buzzing in his brain, felt a sharp, needling sensation in his prosthetics.

And then it was gone, and so was the bright light that had burned its way past his eyelids.

Ironwood opened his eyes to see that the bridge of the Valiant seemed perfectly fine; everyone looked as though they had braced as commanded, but nobody had been thrown out of their seats, nobody had been tossed across the CIC as it was jolted in this or that direction, nobody was injured. Nothing was damaged either; the ship looked completely intact.

"Damage report," he commanded.

"No damage, sir," replied Lieutenant Cunningham. "The ship is intact."

"'No damage'?" Fitzjames muttered as he straightened up in his chair. "What in the gods' names was that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "Des Voeux, I want status reports from all squadron leaders as soon as they've ascertained the condition of their squadrons."

"Yes, sir," des Voeux said. Speaking into the microphone, he added, "All squadron leaders, determine status of squadrons and report in."

Ironwood walked forwards, past Fitzjames, towards the windows looking out down the nose of the Atlesian cruiser. The long black prow pointed the way like an arrow towards Beacon. It looked intact, no visible damage to any of the buildings, not even to the tower where the explosion — if it was an explosion — had originated. It looked as solid as it had been before the blast.

What he couldn't see out of the windows were any grimm.

"Cunningham, what are our sensors showing?" Ironwood asked.

There was a moment's pause before Cunningham answered. "Sensors are showing all our airships still in the air, no losses that I can make out, no obvious signs of damage … and no grimm on the scope, sir."

"All squadrons are reporting no casualties from the blast, all airships operating normally," des Voeux informed him. "Guardian Leader reports that all the grimm around the cliffs have disappeared. He didn't see them die, but that's his strong suspicion."

"A reasonable assumption," Ironwood muttered. A blast that only kills grimm but does no damage to buildings, ships … or people?

"Some kind of experimental weapon?" Fitzjames suggested. "Something cooked up in the labs by R&D?"

"If it is, they kept it secret from me too, Major," Ironwood replied.

"If it wasn't them, they should get working on it," Fitzjames said. "Seems like a useful thing to have around in a tight spot."

"We'll see," Ironwood said. "Des Voeux, get me Professor Ozpin on the line."

"Yes, sir."

"Ozpin?" asked Fitzjames.

"That blast came from the tower," Ironwood said, turning back towards him, walking away from the windows. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"Would we notice if he wasn't?"

"Fitzjames," Ironwood growled. "That will do."

"Apologies, sir."

"Putting you through now, sir," said des Voeux.

There was another minute after he said that before Ozpin's voice emerged into the bridge. "Ah, James," he said, in a voice that was almost incomparably light compared to when Ozpin had spoken to him last. "I hope that I didn't alarm you too much with that display."

"You hope that didn't alarm … that was you?" Ironwood gasped.

He hadn't really had any hypothesis in his mind as to what the blast might have been, but he hadn't expected — hadn't even considered — that Ozpin might have caused it. He knew the old man had more power than he usually let on about — what he'd done to Qrow was proof of that — but first off, he usually kept those powers a secret, and secondly, Ironwood had never known or suspected that he was that powerful.

It begged the question of why he didn't put forth such displays of power more often.

"Guilty as charged," Ozpin replied. "I remembered what it was criminal of me to have forgotten: that this is my school to defend and that I really had no business at all sitting idle in my office while the students fought so bravely. I can only hope that none of them paid the ultimate price for my folly and self-indulgence."

"I don't have any casualty figures myself," Ironwood said. "But, Oz, how? What was that?"

"My semblance allows me to store energy," Ozpin explained. "When I deal a blow, as I did when I was a younger man, I retain the energy of the blow, stored within me, and the more blows I struck, the more energy builds up. And I allowed a great deal to build up, holding it in my back pocket as it were. And now, I have released it. I think you will find that all the grimm have been eliminated from the school and the skies above it, with no damage to the buildings or, more importantly, harm to the students or the civilians."

Ironwood was absolutely certain that Oz was lying about this, and the reason he was absolutely certain was because Oz didn't have a semblance. He couldn't have one; it was one of the — many — downsides of being Oz. Something about the fact that semblances were a reflection of the soul, but Oz's soul was doomed to be in flux for so long — and not in the usual sense in which souls might change and their semblances evolve with them — that it never settled long enough to reflect anything. Oz's soul, as Oz himself had put it to James once, was like a pool of water being rained upon, and the raindrops were forever disrupting the placidity of the surface and disturbing it with constant ripples. So, if you looked down into the pool, then the ripples would be all you saw.

So, yes, Oz was lying about this blast being the result of his semblance, but on the other hand, he surely remembered telling Ironwood about his lack of semblance and had to know that Ironwood knew that he was lying. Which meant there was another explanation, a more mystical or magical explanation, which he didn't want to speak of in front of Ironwood's officers.

Fair enough. Of all Ozpin's secrets, this was one of the more minor ones; Ironwood would have the chance to get the truth out of him later on, in private.

"I think a lot of people will be glad that you hung onto that trick, even if some also wonder why you didn't use it before," Ironwood said. There were times when it could have been useful — the Breach, Ozpin's Stand against the grimm after the fall of Mountain Glenn — but Ozpin had clearly thought that those situations could be resolved without it, and he'd been right on both counts. "You know I have to ask if you can do it again."

"I'm afraid not, James," Ozpin said. "It took me many years to build up that amount of power; my reserves are all but spent."

Ironwood believed him. Ozpin might lie about what exactly he had done, and how, but if he had the power to repeat the trick, then he would tell Ironwood; he wouldn't let people risk their lives on a lie. And it explained why he hadn't done that party piece before: if you only had one shot, it behooved you to be careful before pulling the trigger.

"That's too bad, but we'll make do somehow," he said. "It's good to have you back, Oz."

"Thank you, James," Ozpin said. "You have heard that we have suffered some treachery amongst the students?"

Meaning Amber. "Yes, I'm aware," Ironwood said. "I told Team Sapphire not to spend too long looking for her; I decided the defence was more important and required all hands on deck."

"That was … your decision to make, at the time," Ozpin said, without passing judgement on whether or not he felt it had been the correct decision. Ironwood couldn't help but feel that Ozpin was damning him with faint praise a little, but at the same time appreciated the old man not criticising a decision that he had washed his own hands of. "And is there any news from Vale?"

"Not yet," Ironwood said. "But Winter's assault should be beginning shortly. I expect good news soon."

"Indeed," Ozpin murmured. "I regret the necessity but have every confidence in your people, nevertheless. And the rest of the grimm? I don't think my power was sufficient to destroy all of them."

A quick look at the scanners displayed in front of him told Ironwood that, no, the main body of the grimm hordes were still massed in front of the Green Line, ready to assault the Atlesian and Valish forces at their leisure. "They're still there," he said. "And Colonel Harper thinks they'll start to attack soon. Apparently, they're getting restless."

And, if he was right about the purpose of all this, then an attack on Vale itself made sense as the next step. Step One: Attack the Amity Colosseum, kill all the students in the skies, cause mass demoralisation from everyone watching on live television; well, that part hadn't worked out for them, but it wasn't a dealbreaker. Step Two: Attack Beacon itself, causing enough confusion that Amber could slip away; Team SAPR could tell them if Ironwood was right about that and whether or not it had worked. Step Three: Attack Vale, drawing defenders away from Beacon down onto the Green Line and the open ground behind it, enabling Amber to return to an empty fortress and claim the Relic.

But, if they didn't walk into the trap that had been laid out for them, if they didn't commit everything to the defence of Vale and Vale was breached for a second time … the same logic that had driven him to order Team SAPR not to pursue Amber now militated against concentrating forces in Beacon to defend the Relic against Amber.

Of course, now that Oz was back, this was his call now, at least partly. "If the grimm do attack," he said, "and I think they will, what do you want to do?"

"I will remain here to guard Beacon, in case the grimm should return," Ozpin declared, "but any students who wish to join in holding the outer defences against the grimm will be welcome to go. I will not stop them. I doubt I could, even if I wished to do so. No doubt, the Valish, Atlesian, and Mistralian students will all wish to stand alongside the soldiers of their kingdoms."

Before Ironwood could respond, des Voeux said, "Sir, Rainbow Dash wishes to speak with you."

Ironwood considered for half a moment. "Patch her through, Lieutenant. Dash, Professor Ozpin can hear you as well."

"Professor," Dash said. "Sir, I guess you saw that explosion just now."

"I did, Dash; it was hard to miss."

"Sir," Dash went on, "I've done a reconnaissance of the grounds, no sign of any grimm. It looks like the blast killed them all, even though it didn't touch us."

"You have Ozpin to thank for that," Ironwood said. "He used … his semblance, to release energy stored as a result of many battles."

There was a pause. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Please do, Miss Dash," Ozpin said before Ironwood could respond.

"Could you have done that this entire time?" Dash demanded, her voice rising with indignation.

"Only once, Dash," Ironwood said.

Dash did not respond except to say, "Sir."

"Miss Dash," Ozpin said. "Do you know if there have been any casualties amongst the students?"

"Amongst the students who dropped with me, no casualties, some injuries ranging from severe to minor," Dash responded. "But we’ve also found some casualties from students who were here when the grimm attack started. I’m afraid we haven’t been able to identify them."

"I see," Ozpin said softly.

"We're treating the lightly injured aboard the Amity Colosseum," Ironwood informed him. "The more serious cases are being transferred to an Atlesian medical frigate for now. Dash, it seems the grimm are likely to move on the Green Line soon, so any Atlas student who wishes to join the defence there should present themselves to Colonel Harper for deployment. I'll have airships sent to ferry you down."

"Understood, sir, what about the non-Atlas students?"

"We can ferry them to the Mistralian command post, but they'll have to make their way to the Valish lines themselves if they wish, for obvious reasons," Ironwood replied.

"Yes, sir," Dash said. "What about defending Beacon? Should I assign a few teams—?"

"No, Miss Dash, I will not hold anyone here who wishes to be elsewhere," Ozpin declared. "The protection of Vale must come first."

"Understood, Professor," Dash said, without giving any clue as to what she thought about that. "I'll pass the word."

The tower still stood. That was a comfort to Pyrrha as they ran back the way that they had come, through the courtyard and out the other side, heading towards the tower, with its emerald lights still glowing in the darkness.

The tower still stood despite the immense blast that had — according to Rainbow Dash — come from that direction.

Pyrrha hadn't seen it for herself. She had been facing the other way, facing off against the grimm who continued to oppose them in numbers that only seemed to swell with every passing moment. For every grimm that turned to ash, more took its place in a battle without end.

And then the explosion had split the sky. Pyrrha had not turned towards it, although the grimm had, turning their faces southwards. Pyrrha had focussed more upon killing the grimm; if they wanted to succumb to distraction just because an Atlesian airship was firing missiles nearby — she had some hope that General Ironwood had finally unleashed his airships in their support, but she had not allowed herself to become distracted by it — then she was happy to punish them for the lapse in concentration. And so Pyrrha had laid about the grimm with Miló, striking them down while they failed to resist, and though the explosion had continued to rumble on, it was not until the light in the corner of her eyes grew blinding, not until Jaune had grabbed her and started boosting her aura, that she had paid attention to the way that the dome of destruction, the blinding light that blotted out all else, was rushing towards them.

Pyrrha found herself, upon reflection, grateful that she hadn't had any time to think about it before the wave of light, the intense heat that flared up and then disappeared again, passed over them.

Jaune's boost to her aura had not, after all, been needed, for neither she nor he nor Penny nor anyone else had taken any harm, which was a lot more than could be said for the grimm.

No doubt, the cheering of her fellow Mistralians had seemed, to some, to be rather absurdly overblown; did they really have so much to cheer about, especially when the battle was not over yet, and this part of the battle had been won by a miracle rather than by the valour of Mistralian arms — or anyone else's arms, for that matter? Valid points, perhaps, but at the same time, it could not be denied that, by whatever means, they had won. They had held off the grimm, they had protected at least some of the fairgrounds, they had protected the people there, they had won. They had won, and they were entitled to shout about it. And if the battle continued, if there was another attack on Beacon or elsewhere, then it would do no harm for them to go forward and fight knowing that they had already bested the grimm once tonight and could do so again if need be.

If the next battle was against the grimm. Amber must surely return for the Crown of Choice, and when she did…

When she did, someone would have to stop her, and all those fears, everything that Pyrrha had been glad to avoid when General Ironwood had told them not to look too hard for Amber, they would all come back, craving attention, refusing to be put off any longer.

The question of Amber's death would loom once more.

The question of whether they would have to kill her, having called her friend, would loom once more.

Cowardly though it might be, Pyrrha would be glad to put that off for as long as she could.

For now, at Rainbow's command, Penny led them towards the tower, where Rainbow said the explosion had originated. In common with all the other buildings in Beacon, it still looked intact, and if they had escaped the blast unharmed — and everyone else had too, even those closer to the blast like Rainbow or Yang — then there was no reason why Ruby or Professor Ozpin should not have done the same.

No reason, but it would be good to get there and see it for themselves.

They reached the tower, their run carrying them back to the square before it, where all the grimm who had thronged there on their last visit to this place had vanished, without even the swirling of ashes in the air to indicate that they were recently deceased. There was no evidence of their presence whatsoever, only Professor Ozpin, trifling with his cane in one hand.

"Professor!" Penny cried, her pace quickening as she ran out in front of Pyrrha to approach Professor Ozpin. "Professor, are you alright?"

Professor Ozpin smiled down at her. "Thank you, Miss Polendina, I am quite well. In fact, I daresay I am much better than when you saw me last, for which conduct I must apologise. Miss Nikos, Mister Arc."

Pyrrha slowed to a stop just behind Penny, with Jaune doing likewise. "Professor Ozpin."

"Professor," Jaune murmured.

"As I say, I owe you all an apology," Professor Ozpin murmured. "I was unfairly hostile and … unforgivably dilatory. I failed in my duties, in every capacity." He paused. "I am glad to see you all well. When Miss Dash told me there had been injuries, I feared that you might have been among them."

"No, we're alright, Professor," Penny replied. "We protected one another."

"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Ozpin said, the smile still on his face. "And now, I imagine that you are back here to investigate the blast that came from this direction, that slew the grimm but harmed neither man nor structure?"

Penny nodded. "Rainbow Dash sent us to have a look around."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "As it happens, I have already provided an explanation to Miss Dash: she believes, as the world will believe, that I have a semblance that allows me to store energy, the results of past battles, and to release that store of energy in just such an explosive torrent as you have witnessed."

"'Believes,'" Pyrrha repeated. "You mean it isn't true, Professor?"

"It is not too far from the truth, Miss Nikos, but the truth is a little less prosaic," Professor Ozpin replied. He held up his cane. "This cane is not an ordinary walking stick; it is not even the ordinary weapon of a huntsman. It was fashioned by a wizard of immense power in ancient days, before even the original Four Maidens were blessed — or cursed — with their magic. The wizard who created it made it in such a way that it — and not my semblance — stores up the kinetic energy generated by its use. With every blow that is struck with this cane, a little more energy — the energy of the blow itself — is stored within this mechanism." He briefly held his thumb over the gears at the base of the handle. "And can be released, either in part or in full, by the wielder at any time of their choosing." His voice dropped. "Well does it deserve the name Long Memory, for the echoes of many battles are — have been — contained within this weapon. It is not a Relic of the gods, but it is a relic of our circle and has been borne by my predecessors down the ages before being passed on to me."

"There are magic weapons too?" Penny gasped.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "I'm afraid so, Miss Polendina, but fortunately, they are few in number and very rare." He paused, and the smile faded from his face. "General Ironwood tells me that he ordered you not to search very hard for Amber."

"That's right, Professor," Penny said. "We reported to Rainbow Dash, and she sent us to help in the fight at the fairgrounds."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Nevertheless, I must ask if you … I do not suppose you found her, but any evidence of her whereabouts or destination?"

"She left the school, Professor," Penny announced.

"Benni Haven, the restaurant owner, saw her leaving by the road south to Vale," Jaune added. "They told her that they were escorting Amber away from the fighting because she was scared."

"There is a certain irony in that, if I had been more in my right mind, I would have ordered Miss Rose to do the same," Professor Ozpin murmured. "But they, Mister Arc, who are 'they'?"

"According to Benni Haven, she was joined by Dove and Lyra," Pyrrha said. "And by Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow."

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. "So, of the four names Cinder gave us, three of them seem to have been proven correct."

"It seems so, Professor," Pyrrha murmured.

Professor Ozpin tapped the butt of Long Memory upon the floor. It clicked against the stone of the plaza. "So, she is gone; she used the chaos of the battle to escape."

"But she might come back," Jaune said.

"Yes, Mister Arc, I daresay she will," Professor Ozpin replied. "As Miss Fall pointed out, had I been willing to listen, there is only one thing that Amber could offer Salem to barter for her life and liberty."

Pyrrha felt a chill settle upon her stomach. They were come to it, the question of Amber's fate. "What…" She swallowed, her throat straining a little at the restraint of her gilded gorget. "Professor, what will become of her?"

Professor Ozpin sighed. "I do not desire Amber's end," he said. "Greatly do I not desire it. I … still remember when she was a child and she would run to me so excitedly when I came visiting."

I failed to speak up for one friend; I would be remiss indeed to ignore another so hard upon. "I do not believe that she has a wicked spirit, Professor," Pyrrha said. "I … I think she is afraid, no more than that."

"After what she did to Ruby?" Jaune asked.

"She could have killed Ruby, smothered her with a pillow," Pyrrha replied. "But she did not."

"You are very kind, Miss Nikos, but more importantly, I think that you are right in this," Professor Ozpin said. "Perhaps it is simply that I would not like to believe it so. But I cannot … I have allowed my affection for Amber to cloud my judgement too much already, I cannot continue to do so. I will not. Nor will I allow the Relic of Choice to fall into the hands of Salem, I cannot." He smiled, though it was a wan smile and scarcely reached his eyes. "It does credit to your nature that you do not wish to fight against one whom you called friend, nor will I ask you to do so lightly. Amber is my mistake and one that I intend to put right myself, if Amber comes this way again."

"'Put right,' Professor?" asked Penny. "What does that mean?"

"What Amber herself allows it to mean, in part," Professor Ozpin said. "But, if it should become necessary, can I rely on you to defend the Relic and keep it out of the hands of Salem, even if it means facing Amber in battle, even if it means … killing her?"

There was a moment of silence. None of them spoke, not even Jaune. Pyrrha hoped, she thought, that he would not hold that pause against them, for it was a hard thing that he asked. A very hard thing.

A hard thing, but a necessary one. He was right; as horrible as it was to contemplate, as wretched as it felt, there were some things that came before their friendship with Amber, a friendship that Amber had chosen to sunder and betray in any case. And one of those things, surely, was one of the four Relics that Salem sought and which Amber would seek to give to her.

If ever there was a cause in which to fight a friend, was it not that? Not even friendship's sake could justify standing aside for that, surely.

The thought of Amber's blood on Miló's edge intruded once more into Pyrrha's thoughts.

My ancestors did more than this, even to those whom they loved dearly, and for lesser causes.

Stand with me now and put your heart into me.

"You can, Professor," Pyrrha said, and hoped that her voice did not tremble as she said it.

She could do it. She hoped that she would not have to do it, she hoped that very much, but if it came to it, if it was necessary, then she could do it.

"Yes," Jaune said. "You can."

"That's right," Penny agreed. "We'll do … whatever it takes."

"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Ozpin said. "But for now, I will remain here and defend the school, while if you are willing—"

"Ruby?" Penny asked, gasping.

Pyrrha gasped as well as she followed Penny's gaze behind Professor Ozpin to the doors into the CCT.

The doors that had just opened as Ruby emerged and began to descend the stairs.

The Knight of Roses (New)

The Knight of Roses

The Knight of Roses sat up.

She was not altogether certain where she was, save that she was in a room of some sort. A dark room, with cobwebs strung along the corners of the walls and little furniture but the hard bed on which she sat, a little wooden table with a jug upon it — and a modest dressing table with a cracked mirror.

The mirror was covered in dust, its reflective surface dulled even where the glass had not vanished from the frame, but the Knight got up off the hard bed and approached it nonetheless.

She reached out with one armoured hand — her armour was dull, tarnished in places with rust as red as roses; it would not have shone even had there been any light within this dark and nearly lightless room to shine by — to brush at the mirror. She wiped away very little dust but feared she was in danger of scratching the glass.

She leaned forwards and blew; a little more of the dust was blown away, though it was blown away into her face. Nevertheless, by the little light that entered through a crack in the boarded up window, the Knight could see herself, in part.

She was all clad in armour. Nothing of who she was or what she looked like beneath was visible; her face was concealed beneath an armet helm, fully enclosed, and a gorget encircled her neck; a cuirass embraced her body, pauldrons, rerebrace, couter, vambrace, gauntlet, and so on; every part of her was covered in dull and tarnished metal. There was not a single inch of her to be seen.

Not a single inch of her was vulnerable. The world might beat in all its fury upon her, but she was armoured proof against its terrors and temptations.

Her besagews, that sat upon her elbows, protecting the joints where the cuirass met the pauldrons, were crafted to look like roses; they alone, of all her armour, possessed some gleam about them, a silvery sheen even in this dark place. Upon the rest of her armour, the vambraces and rerebrace upon her arms, the gauntlets that enclosed her hands, the cuirass over her chest, even her gauntlet, upon all her armour had been worked not roses but thorns, lines of thorns wrapped around her neck, crawling over her chest, winding their way around her arms, reaching her fingers, and all the thorns had sharp spikes jutting upwards as though they meant to prick unwary enemies.

A red cape, as red as blood, hung from her shoulders down her back. The Knight turned around enough to see in the mirror that her cape was ragged, torn at the hem.

She was in disrepair. She had been ill-used, she was sure, to reach such a state, although … she could not recall how that might have been.

Where was she? What was she doing here? What was her quest?

The Knight turned away from the mirror; she would get no answers gazing on her own reflection.

She would have to seek them elsewhere.

By the door leading out of the little room in which she had awoken, she found a sword and shield placed. The shield was round and made of wood, broad in size, with an iron band around the rim. It was painted black and decorated with four roses, two red and two white, occupying the four quadrants of the shield, while strings of green thorns crawled in the space between them. The sword was a sickle blade that curved forwards with the cutting blade on the inside, not the out. The blade, in contrast to the Knight's armour, was not in the least bit touched by tarnish or by rust. The hilt was crafted out of black ebony, and in the pommel of the sword was set a glistening ruby cut in the shape of a rose.

The Knight picked up the sword; it felt well balanced in their hand, which the blade fitted as though it had been made for her. Perhaps it had been, though she did not recall.

But she was the Knight of Roses, and sword and shield alike were rose adorned and here with her. It would be a curious thing indeed if they were not meant for her.

So the Knight took up the shield also, thrusting her arm through the straps; there was no sheath to secure the sword, so the Knight thrust it into their belt as she walked out of the room. This place was dark and dusty everywhere, undecorated and unloved-seeming. She was confronted by a narrow wooden staircase turning around plain white daubed walls, and the Knight followed that staircase down. The steps creaked beneath her tread.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a door, a door that — by the amount of light streaming in — led outside into the sunlight. The Knight quickened her step, striding out of the open door and into the daylight.

She did not fear the light. Some did, she knew, wicked creatures who loathed the light that shone on their misdeeds, but the Knight of Roses was a servant of the light, its stalwart defender and its champion. Though all others forsook goodness and virtue, she would remain faithful.

She turned around. She stood in a forest, a forest that was in the grip of Fall, all the leaves turned red, some drifting down to the ground below, though there seemed to be no shortage still on the trees.

Behind her, the place she had awoken was revealed to be an old cottage, a tumbledown-looking place with a sagging roof and walls stained with muck and mildew.

How had she come to be here, and to what purpose?

The Knight of Roses turned away. The answers would no doubt be found before her, not behind.

And before her, only a short way down the path that led from the cottage deeper into the woods, was a little creature, a sort of starfish that seemed to be — that was — made of bright sunny yellow paper. It had no face, no eyes, no mouth, and the only thing that distinguished head from arms and legs was that it stood upon two points of the star and used two more to hold a broom with which it was sweeping leaves off the path, which meant the uppermost point must be its head.

It was a Paper Pleaser, the Knight knew, although she could not have said how she knew that.

The Knight approached and cleared her throat. The sound echoed out of her closed helm.

The Paper Pleaser had been bent down upon her sweeping, but now looked up. "Brave Knight!" they cried, for all that they had no mouth. "Thank goodness you are awake! The Princess has been kidnapped by the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun! Please, go forth and rescue her, before it's too late!"

A quest! Now, the Knight's path was clear, in spirit if not in fact. They had a foe before them, and a goal; surely, they had come here in the first place to rescue the princess, and slay this foul witch, whose very name spoke of darkness.

"I shall, at once," the Knight declared. "Fear not; no evil shall stand before my might!"

"Excellent!" cried the Paper Pleaser. "I would go myself, but these leaves won't sweep themselves."

"A heavy loss, but I shall try and make do on my own," the Knight said dryly. "Do you know where the witch and the Princess may be found?"

"Good luck on your journey, brave knight," the Paper Pleaser said, resuming her sweeping. "There isn't a moment to lose to rescue the Princess."

"I am sure not," the Knight replied, "but if you could give me perhaps a direction, I will be on my way at once."

"Good luck on your journey, brave knight," said the Paper Pleaser, still sweeping up in that same patch of the path. "There isn't a moment to lose to rescue the Princess."

The Knight felt this was not very helpful, but it was clear they were not going to get anything more out of the Paper Pleaser.

Once more, she looked around; there was only one path that she could see, though even that was half covered in the falling leaves of red and gold. She would follow it, for want of any better direction in which to go; if the path did not lead her to the Princess, then it would hopefully lead to someone of more sense than the Paper Pleaser who would be able to answer her questions.

The Knight of Roses began to walk down the path, the fallen leaves crunching beneath her armoured feet.

There was a brief rise in the ground, though it hardly exerted the Knight to climb up it, beyond which she could see a little stable, in no better state of repair than the cottage that she had just left, with the wooden boards falling apart and holes in the straw roof.

But the Knight was in need of a mount — she could be a knight without a horse, but a steed would bear her more swiftly on her quest — and what was theft when weighed against the cause in which she was engaged?

So she walked towards the stable, and her heart was gladdened when a horse emerged from it, albeit a horse of a very curious colour: yellow, with black stripes like a zebra running up and down its body.

Bumblebee. The horse’s name was Bumblebee. The Knight of Roses knew that, although she did not remember how she knew, and she did not remember who the horse belonged to, although she remembered that it belonged to someone.

Someone who would be vexed if the unusually coloured horse were to vanish.

But her need was great. As the Paper Pleaser had said, there was no time to lose in rescuing the Princess.

The Knight took a step towards Bumblebee, who shied away, looking at the Knight with one suspicious yellow eye.

The Knight was about to take another step forward when she heard something growling behind her.

She turned, her right hand reaching for the sword at her belt, to be confronted with an enormous wolf. Not a beowolf, an actual wolf, a black wolf as large as a horse with thick fur and silver eyes looking right at her, its eyes piercing her visor and her armour and seeming to see into the Knight’s very soul.

The Knight of Roses was righteous, she was a servant of all things good and just, she was a warrior for the people, she was un chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, if any had the right to claim that title, and yet, the way the wolf looked at her with those eyes of silver caused her to recoil a pace, and she felt as though some of the pricking thorns that covered her armour had turned inwards to prick at her instead.

The Knight’s hand was frozen; she did not reach for her blade. Rather, having taken a step back, she was still, while the wolf stared at her, a low rumbling sound rising out of its throat.

“I…” the Knight murmured. “I thought my need for the horse was great, but I suppose that the need of the farmer for a horse to pull his plough is also great, as great as that of a princess for a rescuer.”

She had no idea whether the wolf would understand her words — and no real reason to expect she would — but … but she felt guilty; the wolf’s gaze made her guilty, and so she spoke the words that rose most rapidly when she considered her guilt.

The wolf continued to stare, its face impassive, its eyes harder than the silver they resembled.

Then the wolf turned away and bent its legs, lowering its body towards the ground.

“Mount,” the wolf commanded in a deep, gruff growl.

“You can talk?” the Knight exclaimed.

“I can, although I say nothing when I have nothing to say,” the wolf replied. “I will bear you through the forest, to the castle of the Witch of the Setting Sun, where she holds the Princess captive. Come, mount. My back is strong enough to bear your weight.”

“Will not my armour prick you with its thorns?” asked the Knight.

“My hide is tougher than your thorns are sharp,” said the wolf.

“Why would you help me? What is the Princess or my quest to you?” asked the Knight.

The wolf was silent a moment, before he said, “Like you, I would see right done. What reason need I more than that? Come, are you not in haste?”

And so, the Knight mounted the wolf, climbing upon his back, gripping some of his long, black fur with her gauntlet-clad hands. He didn't protest, nor did he make a sound or act as though he was in any way hurt by the thorns that grew from her armour, or that he was discomfited by her weight. He bore her easily, steadily, and he leapt forward at a run as though she weighed nothing at all to him.

The wolf raced down the leaf-strewn path with the Knight on his back, the trees and their scarlet leaves a blur as they flew by. The distance was devoured by the wolf's tread, and the Knight's red cape streamed out behind her as she was borne along, grateful for her armour which protected her from the buffeting of the air that otherwise would have surely raced towards her.

As the wolf ran on, the Knight began to hear sounds coming through the forest, sounds which sometimes grew louder and sometimes softer, as though they were passing by those who made the sound, drawing near but then leaving them behind: they were the sounds of marching feet tramping upon the ground, the thunderous thumps of heavy footsteps, the roars and growls of monstrous grimm.

This was a world of danger. A world where brigands lurked and monsters stalked and armies marched. A world where innocent travellers feared to walk the roads. The Knight would change all that, if she could, but she had no time now to right every wrong, to fight every battle, to hunt down all monsters. She would turn her attention to them all, and none would escape her wrath, but right now, her quest claimed her energies and her attention: the rescue of the Princess, the downfall of this most foul witch. All else must wait until after.

The wolf bore the knight all the way to a crossroads, where three ways lay open to them: due west, where the signpost pointed the way to Patch; southwest, which the sign proclaimed would lead to Starhead; and southeast, to a place called Mountain Glenn.

Mountain Glenn, that was a name of ill-omen; it filled the Knight's heart with dread, though she knew not why. She had forgotten, but she had not forgotten the feeling of foreboding that the name inspired in her.

"Do you know these names?" the Knight asked the wolf.

"Nay," the wolf said. "Your names mean nought to me, but I know smells, and only one path smells sweet to my nose: the southwest path."

The Knight could not smell so well, could not distinguish between sweet smells and foul, but nevertheless, she understood the wolf perfectly. The name of Patch was … tempting and yet not. It evoked distant silver sounds, and yet, at the same time, it was as if those same sounds, though they might once have welcomed her, now bade her turn away and choose another route. And as for Mountain Glenn … that name made her want to turn away without even the consolation that it might once have bestowed some welcome on her. Of the three, only the name of Starhead brought any joy to her heart, only it attracted her rather than repelling, whether the repulse be gentle or severe. Her heart desired to bid the wolf take her that way, towards Starhead, but how likely was it that the Witch was to be found in a place the Knight would want to go? Would she not likely be rather in the foulest place that could be found?

Was it not more likely that the Knight's quest would take them to those places she most desired not to go?

"Perhaps they will know?" the wolf said, gesturing with his head towards a girl sitting on a rock not far from the crossroads, with her back to the Knight and the wolf.

The Knight looked at her. The girl was young and small, with short black hair trimmed at the tips as red as blood. She was dressed as if for bed, for some strange reason, too lightly dressed to be out in such a land as this, and in her hand, she held a stick, which she was waving down towards the earth, as if she wished to scratch it but couldn’t quite reach.

Although she could always have gotten off the rock. Perhaps she simply liked waving a stick about.

Perhaps she was a strange child, too strange to be of any real help to them.

Yet there was no one else around, so the Knight supposed they would have to approach such folk as fortune threw across her path.

"Hello there!" the Knight called out. "Can you help us?"

The girl on the rock looked round at them. She stared for a moment, then leapt down off her rocky perch and scampered towards them. Her eyes, the Knight saw, were silver, just like the wolf.

"You are the Knight of Roses," she observed.

"I have that honour,” the Knight declared proudly, for she was glad to be recognised and not ashamed to admit the fact; she had done deeds worthy of recognition and would have done deeds further still, and greater still, if only she had been allowed. “And you are?”

“A girl,” said the girl. “A poor girl, a country girl, a girl of woods and leaves.” She smiled. “A girl of metal and gears, a girl of stories, a girl of capes, a girl of needle and thread, a girl of weapons—”

“You are a girl of many things, it seems,” the Knight said.

“Aren’t we all?” asked the girl. “Aren’t you?”

“I am a knight,” proclaimed the knight. “A true knight, a brave knight, a knight of courage and resolve, a knight without fear—”

“That sounds like a lot of things.”

“It is one thing,” said the knight. “Or rather … it is all things bound in one, as the clover has three leaves but is yet one clover, all things in me around bound in one, bound beneath my armour, bound in knighthood.” She paused. “What brings a young girl to such a place as this? Whither are you bound?”

“I am bound for Patch,” the girl replied. “I’m going home to my father and sister.”

“And your mother?” the Knight asked.

The girl was silent for a moment. “My mother does not wait for me there. Perhaps she’s waiting for you instead.”

The Knight did not know what the girl meant by that, unless she was delivering a prophecy of the Knight’s death. If that was so, then … then it would be so; she had no fear of it. So long as she could rescue the Princess first, then she would gladly expire from her wounds afterwards. “For my own part, I am on a quest,” she said. “I seek to rescue the Princess from the Wicked Witch of the West. Do you know where I may find them both?”

The girl nodded. “I know where they are. I saw the Wicked Witch go past here not long ago, only she didn’t seem very wicked to me. She gave me a song.”

“You are fortunate she gave you nothing else,” the Knight muttered. “Yes, I have no doubt that she seemed not wicked to you. In faith, she can seem fair indeed when she wishes to; she seems fair, and with her fairness, she draws in victims, lures them as a spider into her web and, with her honeyed words, ensnares them such that they cannot escape even when her foulness stands revealed.”

The girl cocked her head to one side. “You don’t like her, do you?”

“I hate her,” the Knight hissed. “I would strike her down, if the chance presented itself, and rid this land of her villainy once and for all.”

The girl folded her arms. “Is that why you became a knight, to strike down the wicked?”

The Knight was quiet a moment. “Nay,” they said. “I … I wished to save people.”

“And did you?”

“Some,” the Knight said. “Less than I would, if I had been allowed.”

“But now you want to kill people instead of saving them?”

“Sometimes, the best way to save people is to kill wicked people who would otherwise do them harm,” the Knight said.

“Hmm,” the girl murmured. “I … guess. But she didn’t seem very wicked to me.”

“That is because you are a child and know nothing of the world and its realities,” the Knight said haughtily.

“What does that make you, then?” asked the girl.

The Knight stared down at her in incomprehension. What did that … what sort of a question was that? What else would it make her but a knight? Why would this child ask such a thing?

“What can it make me but what I am?” demanded the Knight. “Have you no respect for my spurs, for my armour and my blade?”

“Nope,” said the girl. “I only respect people I agree with.”

The Knight could not help but snort. “I should put you over the back of my mount and spank you for your impertinence, but that I admire your courage to speak so boldly. You said you saw the Witch, wicked or no, pass by here? Will you not tell me where she went, which path?”

“She went to Mountain Glenn,” said the girl. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” muttered the Knight, for she had spent a great deal of time bandying words with a precocious youth only to learn what her own instincts had told her straight away. “Fare you well, then, and I hope your father and sister are as tolerant of your precocious tongue as I have been.”

She said no other words to the girl, and the wolf must have known that she didn't mean to say anything else to her, for it bore her off, moving at a walk down the road towards Mountain Glenn. The wolf did not run as it had done before they reached the crossroads, but he did move away, and they began to leave the girl behind them.

"She knew her own heart,” said the wolf approvingly.

“She knew her own heart better than she knew the world,” said the Knight. “And knowing the world will be the changing of her heart, I guarantee it.”

“Is that what happened to you?” asked the wolf.

“I … do not recall,” the Knight admitted. “Is that of any consequence?”

“Might you have thought differently,” the wolf suggested, “once upon a time?”

“Nay,” said the Knight. “Always, my heart would have desired to save the Princess.”

“And slay the Wicked Witch?” asked the wolf. “Would your heart have always desired that also?”

“The Wicked Witch,” said the Knight. “If you knew what she had done to me—”

“To you?”

“To the world!” the Knight said quickly. “If you knew what she had done, you would not question that she deserves death.”

“If all got what they deserve, it would be a very empty world, no?” asked the wolf.

The Knight could scarcely argue with that; it was a wicked world, and barren of real virtue; were the Knight to spare only those that she deemed virtuous, then she would lay waste to many that a knight was sworn to protect.

But that did not excuse the Wicked Witch what she had done. What she had done to— to the world, to everyone.

This was not personal. It was only duty.

The wolf moved slowly, walking along the southeast road, leaves crunching beneath his padded feet, turning to mush as he trampled them. The Knight would have liked for him to pick up speed a little, but if he did not want to take the dread road to Mountain Glenn, then she could hardly blame him.

"If you do not want to carry me here, I will walk," she told the wolf. "You have no obligation to me, or to the Princess."

The wolf growled. "I said that I would bear you on your quest, and I will. I may have no obligation to you, but I have obligation to myself."

"Wait!" cried a girl's high-pitched voice from behind them. "Please, wait for me!"

The Knight looked around to see a jade green doll, the size of a man, running down the patch after them. She — so the Knight assumed because of her voice, although her body could have been that of a man — was, or seemed to be, made all out of green glass, and though she was made to look like a person with arms, legs, torso, and a head, her head had no features, no eyes, nose, or mouth. Like Yang, her voice seemed to come from nowhere, and yet, it did come, and it was a sweet sound to the Knight's ears.

The wolf stopped, and the Jade Doll ran up beside him, stopping when she was level with the Knight.

"Brave knight," she said. "You are the Knight of Roses, aren't you?"

"I am," the Knight said. "What would you have of me?"

"I would come with you!" the Jade Doll said. "I have run away from the camp of the White Company and sold my horse and armour to buy my freedom from the tin captain. I don't want to be a soldier, but I would love to be a knight like you. Let me come with you, and squire for you, and learn from you what it is to be a knight so gallant and fearless."

"It will be dangerous," the Knight warned her. "We are on a perilous road."

"I'm ready!" proclaimed the Jade Doll. "I'm combat ready, though I sold my weapons along with my horse and armour. But I promise, you won't find my heart wanting."

The Knight looked down at the wolf upon whose back she rode.

"I can carry two as easily as one," the wolf said, as though he could read her mind.

"Then climb aboard," the Knight said. "And welcome aboard. I would tell you to hold onto me, but you may get pricked by my thorns."

"I don't mind," said the Jade Doll as she climbed up onto the wolf's back and wrapped her green arms around the Knight's waist. "I only get hurt on the inside."

The wolf began to run, running as he had run before, tearing up the distance between them and their destination. The forest began to change as the wolf ran on, bearing them further and further down the southeast road, closer and closer towards Mountain Glenn, that evil-omened place. The trees began to look sickly or dead, the leaves of scarlet disappeared or were replaced with black, dead leaves, the branches drooped down towards the ground, the trunks became caked with slime and lichen, and poisonous-looking mushrooms began to sprout up in the spaces between the leaves. A mist began to float about the wolf's feet, obscuring the ground beneath from view. The sunlight began to disappear, and the whole world darkened.

A sound began to echo through the dying trees, a cacophonous, yapping, barking sound, like thirty hounds questing on the hunt.

But if the Knight was right, then all that noise in its discord was coming from a single throat.

The wolf stopped, a growl rising from his own throat in answer to the baying of the legion. His fur began to rise, and he bared his teeth.

The Knight dismounted. "Wait here," she told the Jade Doll. "You have no weapons, so remain, and trust to the wolf to protect you."

For her own part, she drew her sickle sword once more and held her shield before her as she walked before the wolf, ready and waiting.

The sound of many hounds drew closer and closer, until the Knight could see the beast that made that sound in all its ugliness. It was a Questing Beast, a hideous, misshaped chimera of a thing, with the head and long, sinuous neck of a snake, the spotted body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the cloven hooves of a deer. The sounds of all those hounds issued from its throat as it waved its long, serpentine neck back and forth before the Knight.

And on its back, there sat the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun.

She wore scraps and patches of armour here and there — a pauldron on one shoulder, vambraces upon her arms, a buff coat of black leather — but for the most part, she was unprotected. Her heart was vulnerable, without the armour that the Knight wore to proof it against danger and disappointment alike. Her eyes were green and glimmered snakelike in a face that looked fair, concealing how foul it truly was beneath. Her hair was vivid red and gold, like flames, and spilled down across her shoulders and down her back; a pair of pony ears emerged from it, poking up above the hair like mountains rising above the mist. She wore a sword — a black sword, straight and double-edged — strapped across her back.

She dismounted, revealing a tail between her legs the same colour as her hair, and patted her ugly mount upon its snake's head as she advanced towards the Knight. Her look was grave; in her long acquaintance, the Knight had noticed that the Witch's look was often grave; it was part of how she convinced the unwary that she was making hard but necessary decisions. In that way did she cover over her villainy and give it a veneer of anguished rectitude.

The Knight did not believe it for a moment.

"Rose Knight," the Witch said. "Well met."

"Ill met," replied the Knight. "No meeting with you will ever be well with me."

The Witch's ears drooped. "You … you have my love, and always will, though I concede it may not always seem so by my actions towards you."

"It matters not," the Knight said sharply. "It matter not one bit whether you love me or no, not while you hurt others with your wickedness!"

"Who have I hurt this time, to bring you here?" inquired the Witch.

"The Princess you have abducted!" the Knight shouted. "Where is she?"

The Wicked Witch did not reply. Instead, she looked over the Knight's head at the wolf and the Jade Doll upon her back. "I see you have a new mount," she observed.

"You have the same wretched creature to ride as always," growled the Knight.

"Bite your tongue! He is a faithful beast," the Wicked Witch said, reaching out with one hand to rub the snake's head. To the Jade Doll she said, "How now, Miss? I have not seen you before?"

"Do not answer," the Knight said. "She will twist your words."

"Let her speak," the Witch said, in a voice heavy and insistent.

The Jade Doll hesitated. "I … I wish to be a knight, like this brave Knight of Roses, and she has let me accompany her, to witness her courage and to learn from her."

"And why is it that you want to be a knight?" asked the Witch. "Does your heart burn with a zeal for justice?"

Again, the Jade Doll hesitated. "I … want companionship," she said. "For in the camp of the White Company, I was very lonely, and I hope that the knights, so good and gallant, will be my friends; I hope that, though I am just a doll, they will treat me like a person."

"You are a person," said both the Knight and the Witch at once.

The Knight huffed.

The Witch smirked. "The Princess is with me," she admitted.

"Then let her go, you villain!" the Knight demanded.

"Let her go to where, and to what fate?" demanded the Witch in turn. "In this world so full of peril, so besieged by monsters, so marched across by armies and marauding brigand bands, what fate awaits a princess in such a world as this? What fate awaits anyone? What fate awaits us all? Death. Death and darkness. The Princess is with me," she repeated. "The Princess is safe with me, protected by me, invulnerable within the walls of my fortress. She sleeps there, upon a goosedown mattress, with soft pillows on which to lay her head. She sleeps, eternal and immortal, away from harm. Safe from any who might do her harm." She reached out gingerly towards the Knight, then pulled back her hand. "The Champion sleeps there too, and the Knight of Sunbeams. They lie in twin beds, hands reaching out to touch one another."

She smiled, though it was a frosty smile, and the Knight would have called it a sad smile had she thought a wicked witch to be capable of sadness.

"I will gather them all, if I may," the Witch declared. "The Wild Warrior and all the rest, and you, too, may come and be gathered in, and I will keep you safe from all those who would mistreat you. In this world so full of cruelty, I will make a refuge of my heart’s delight, and delightful hearts shall safely beat within it."

"You have made a cage," the Knight spat. "A cage with flowers growing around it, a prison with pleasant pictures on the walls, but a prison nonetheless."

"That is not my intent," said the Witch.

"Intent or no, it is your outcome," said the Knight. "And for your outcome, I will strike you down!"

The Witch drew her black sword, even as she said, "Stay your hand, righteous knight. I would not fight you." She retreated back a step. "I cannot persuade you to turn away from here, to give up this quest, to leave the Princess and all those I care for in my charge?"

"No," said the Knight. "For I will never turn aside from what is right. Just as I will never forgive you what you have done."

"Then no doubt we shall fight," said the Witch as she mounted the Questing Beast once more. "But not now. Not yet. Perhaps not…" She sheathed her sword. "Turn away, Knight of Roses, for both our sakes."

But it was the Questing Beast who turned away, with the Witch upon its back, still growling like a clamour of dogs upon the hunt as it scampered off, vanishing into the recesses of the darkening forest.

"She didn't seem very wicked," said the Jade Doll.

"She abducts people!" squawked the Knight in dismay. "She puts spells on them! She keeps them in eternal sleep!"

"I didn't say she wasn't wrong," protested the Jade Doll. "Just that she doesn't seem very wicked about it."

"No," the Knight agreed. "No, she doesn't seem very wicked, does she? That's why nobody sees her that way." She thrust her sword back into her belt. "Nobody has ever seen her that way. The Champion, the Knight of Sunbeams, the Old Man of the Tower, none of them saw it. They all trusted her. They all … chose her." She would have looked down, but all her armour made that very difficult. "They all thought that…" She trailed off.

The Jade Doll leaned forward upon the back of the wolf. "What did they think?"

"It doesn't matter," said the Knight. "She isn't what they all thought she was."

"Then what is she?" asked the wolf.

"She is our enemy, that's all," said the Knight, as she mounted the wolf's back once more. "Now let's keep moving. We still have a way to go."

The Jade Doll placed her arms around the Knight's waist as the wolf began to run again; the path was becoming harder to see — for the Knight at least — as the sky became darker above, and the dark, dying trees with drooping limbs and branches that seemed to be reaching out towards them grew ever closer, but the wolf seemed able to instinctively find the way forward, to know which way to go, to find the path that had become lost to the eyes of the Knight of Roses.

The wolf ran, and as the wolf ran, the Knight thought that she could see lights up ahead: fires burning on the ground and lanterns hung from the decaying branches of old trees. There might be someone up ahead, but in a place like this, anyone choosing to make camp was more likely foe to them than friend.

A glass arrow flew out of the darkness, whipped past the Knight's face, and buried itself in the trunk of the nearest tree, rather proving the point.

"Stand and deliver," purred a woman who stepped out from behind another tree, illuminated by the light of a nearby burning fire. She was tall, with night-dark hair that looked very well taken care of in the circumstances, cascading down one side of her face, hiding one eye from view. She was armoured all in glass, but being glass, it was perfectly possible to see through it to the fiery red dress she wore beneath. In one hand, she held a bow of black obsidian, and black too was the paint upon her lips and nails.

"Stand and deliver what?" asked the Jade Doll.

The woman paused for a moment. "Well, why don't we start with your lives, and then I'll take anything else I want off your bodies?"

"That doesn't sound very nice," observed the Jade Doll.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" purred the woman, sounding very pleased about the fact. "For I am no kind or gentle creature. I am the Brigand of Glass and Ashes, a plain, fair-dealing villain, and I laugh at the very idea of being nice." She began to cackle wickedly, just to prove it.

The Knight leapt down from the wolf's back, planting herself between the wolf and the Jade Doll and the Brigand. "Are you an ally of the Wicked Witch?"

"'The Wicked Witch'? 'The Wicked Witch'?" the Brigand repeated, turning her head upwards, tapping her foot. "Ah, yes, the Wicked Witch! I know her of old. What a drip. No, I am no friend of hers." She smiled. "She thinks she can keep all her little pets safe from me behind her walls. She thinks that she can lock them in their bedrooms, away from any unsuitable princes, but one day, I will creep over her walls and slink about the shadows slitting the throats of the Princess and the Champion and all the rest. And then I'll slit her throat too, but first, I'll give her time to realise what I've done."

The Knight stepped forward. "You will not! I will save the Princess from the Witch, and all her other victims too, but first, I'll bring your life to a close. Your end is here, villain!"

The Brigand grinned. "My, how you storm." Her glass bow dissolved in her hand, reforming into a pair of scimitars. "Come then, brave knight, gallant knight, renowned knight, virtuous knight, righteous and self-righteous knight. Come, all your qualities, come, and I'll spill your blood that's red like roses!"

She charged, and the Knight charged towards her in turn, crashing across the ground to get to grips with her enemy. She already knew how she would win this battle. The Brigand might have armoured herself in glass, but the Knight was armoured in steel, and tarnished or no, she would put her faith in steel over glass any day.

The Brigand hurled herself on the Knight, slashing at her from all directions, launching wild strokes at the Knight without any discipline or focus or any sign of training. She was as swift as the wind on a stormy day, and like a storm, she assailed the Knight, but the Knight simply charged forwards regardless, holding her shield up to protect her head, letting the strokes of the glass scimitars beat on her armour like rain beating on the windows of a house, and she pressed forward.

Some reckoned the armour made her slow, but it was not so; it was so well-fitted that she barely felt the weight for all that it was considerable, and since she barely felt the weight, she could build up speed.

Yet since the weight was considerable, others would feel it even when she did not, and the Knight could also build up momentum.

And so the Knight charged through the onslaught of the Brigand, enduring her wild fury, enduring the pounding of the swords on her armour as she pushed through the Brigand's guard and was on her. The Brigand tried to retreat, but it was too late; the Knight could not be stopped now; she struck the Brigand full on with her body and knocked her back and down onto the ground.

The fires in the forest illuminated the shock on the Brigand's face as the Knight brought down one armoured foot upon her chest. Her glass cuirass cracked beneath the impact, fissures spreading up and down the carapace, hiding the red dress beneath.

The Brigand grappled at the Knight's foot with both hands, her unprotected hands scraping and scratching at the thorns, but she could not budge it, could not throw the Knight off.

The Knight raised her sickle sword to cut off the Brigand's head. Her sword swung down, but the Brigand caught the blow upon her glass vambrace. That glass cracked too, if only in a couple of places, far less spectacularly than her cuirass had, but it did not break, and the Brigand's arm but trembled. She held the Knight's sword in place, until the Knight pulled it back.

She raised the blade again, reversing her grip on it for a straight downward thrust to break the Brigand's cuirass and impale her.

She thrust. The Brigand caught the blade between the palms of her hands, slamming them together as though she were catching a fly that buzzed about the room. The Knight's blade was stuck; she could not push it forwards, nor when she tried could she pull it back out of the Brigand's grasp.

The Brigand smirked at her.

The smirk soon died on her face as the Knight pressed down with her foot, causing her glass armour to crack yet further, audibly crunching as it began to give way.

The Brigand growled and snarled as fiercely as any beowolf as she tried to rise, but the Knight was as steadfast as the mountain and as constant as the stars and would not be thrown off.

Flames sparked from the side of the Brigand's visible eye, and yet more flames leapt from her fingertips to race up the Knight's sword and consume her in her armour.

"No!" cried the Jade Doll.

The Brigand began to cackle triumphantly, but the Knight was not moved. Though she could feel the heat building on her armour, though she could feel herself starting to roast within it, though she closed her eyes and flinched against the flames that flickered before her visor, she continued to press down with her foot upon the Brigand's chest.

The glass cuirass shattered completely. The Knight brought down her foot upon the Brigand herself and began to crush her ribs as she had shattered the glass.

The Brigand cried out in pain, the flames from her fingers flickering, her grip on the Knight's sword faltering as blood burst out of her mouth.

The Knight thrust downwards, impaling the Brigand through the chest.

The Brigand's amber eyes widened. She gasped, her head jerking.

"Oh, oh, I am slain," she murmured, coughing up more blood out of her mouth, to stain her black-painted lips. "Alack, alack, I am undone. Come, death, and close my eyes. Dead … for a lien … dead." Her eyes were not closed, by death or anyone else; they remained open so the Knight could see the light leaving them as her head lolled sideways and was still.

The Knight withdrew her sword.

"So end all who take the path of wickedness," she said, kneeling to wipe the blood off her sword.

"I was worried about you," the Jade Doll said. "When those flames sprung up, I thought that—"

"I'm fine," the Knight assured her. "I can overcome any trial, master any obstacle. You need have no fears for me. I am a knight, and there is no battle that I cannot win.

"Don't be overconfident," the wolf growled.

The Knight paused. "You're right," she admitted. "That was a lie. I cannot say that I will never meet a foe who is stronger than I am. But I would rather lay down my life in a good cause than live amidst all the comforts in the world if I must live with the shame of cowardice. If I should die, mourn me not; rather, rejoice at the fact that I died for something worth fighting for."

"I'd rather you didn't die," said the Jade Doll plaintively.

The Knight laughed. "Then to please you," she said, "I shall endeavour to live on."

She thrust her sword back into her belt and walked back towards the wolf.

"It was not for this that you dreamed of knighthood, no?” asked the wolf.

“What else would you have had me do?” asked the Knight in turn. “What else could I do but what I did?”

“I said nought of that,” said the wolf.

“Did you not?” demanded the Knight. “I did what my duty required of me.”

“Yet it was not for this that you dreamed of knighthood,” the wolf repeated. “Or am I mistaken?”

The Knight did not call him mistaken, for he … was not mistaken. Her triumph, the death of the Brigand, it brought her scant joy and small satisfaction. Yes, a villain was dead, the victory was hers, but…

But she would rather save a life than take it. Her blood was not so hot that it burned to the shedding of the blood of others.

Yet if she had to…

If she had to, then she would.

But she might give thought to it before she did the deed, lest she regret it later.

Not that she regretted the Brigand’s passing, not by any means, but in future, there might come a time, there might come a person…

Not her. Not after what she did.

“Not for this,” the Knight conceded. “But I will do it nonetheless.” She climbed aboard the wolf’s back once again.

The wolf set off. He did not move so quickly as he had done before; his pace was more cautious now, his steps more considered; the wolf turned his head this way and that, constantly looking for any further dangers like the Brigand, sniffing the air for scents of ambush.

He stopped. "There are two people ahead."

"I don't see them," said the Knight, for she saw nothing before her but the trees.

"There are still two people ahead," said the wolf.

"Is it the Witch?" asked the Knight.

"No," the wolf answered her. "I have not smelled these two before."

"They might be friendly," the Jade Doll suggested optimistically.

"Then what are they doing here?" asked the Knight. "This is not a place to find friends."

"If they know we're here, they might be wondering what we're doing here," the Jade Doll pointed out.

The Knight and the wolf were silent for a moment.

"She makes a good point," said the wolf.

"I suppose," muttered the Knight. "Okay then, let's go and see who they are and what they want." She placed a hand upon the hilt of her sword but did not draw it.

The wolf padded slowly forwards, moving through the gloom. The Knight looked carefully, hoping to see what the wolf had smelled or seen, but she could still see nothing, nor could she smell anything or even hear anything. She had no idea of what waited for them, until eventually, they drew close enough that she could see them: two people, sitting by the side of the path — or at least what remained of the path — a woman whom the Knight did not recognise and a man whom she did.

"Dove!" the Knight cried, leaping off the wolf's back and running towards him. "Dove, what are you doing here?"

The Knight of Doves was a squat but broad-shouldered young man, distinguishable by the dove-feather cape that he wore hanging off his shoulders and down his back, and by his helmet, which was adorned with wings jutting out on either side. His armour was white but did not cover his hands, nor to be honest did it offer as much protection around the joints — elbows, knees, waist — as the Knight's armour did.

He had his helmet off, revealing sandy blond hair and blue eyes and a smile when he heard the Knight's voice issuing out of her armour.

"Well met!" he cried. "Well met indeed! It gladdens my heart to see a friendly face in this grim place. Though I suppose better a grim place than a grimm place, eh?"

The Knight stared at him. "That … that was terrible."

Dove's face fell. "You … may be right," he admitted. "In fact, you probably are, as you are about most things. But what brings you here, and…" — he was not tall enough to look over the Knight's shoulder, so he contented himself with looking around her — "so accompanied?"

"I am on a quest to Mountain Glenn, to rescue the Princess who has been kidnapped by the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun," the Knight explained. "I will put an end to her villainy once and for all. You should come with me. I could use another strong, stout-hearted sword like yours."

Dove chuckled lightly. "The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards, and I am flattered indeed by yours, but I fear I cannot. I have a quest of my own to discharge." He gestured to the woman with him, who sat beside the road and had not gotten up. "This maiden is … the Fall Maiden. I have pledged to escort her through these dark lands and bring her safely home."

"I see," said the Knight. "That is a worthy thing, and I would not ask you to forsake such a quest, nor to put a maiden in danger." She bowed to the Fall Maiden. "Good day to you, my lady."

The Fall Maiden looked up at her. Her eyes were amber, just like the eyes of the Brigand that the Knight had lately slain, although her hair was a soft brown, cut short around the nape of her neck. Her face was pretty, but marred by heavy scars upon one side of her face, suggesting that she had been attacked by something — or someone; doubtless, that was why she was eager for a night to escort her on this new journey. She wore a green cloak, drawn around her, and golden bands glistened upon her arms.

She smiled, softening her scars. "Good day," she said, getting up. "Good day, brave knight. You must forgive me, but in times like these, on roads like these, one feels wary of travellers; but, if you are a friend of the Knight of Doves, then you are my friend also."

She reached out and placed a hand upon the Knight's shoulder pauldron, only to pierce her hand upon the thorns that sprouted from the armour. She gave a little shriek and yanked her hand back, clutching at it with her other hand as blood stained her palm and fingers.

"I'm sorry!" the Knight cried. "I didn't mean to … I'm sorry."

"It's alright," the Maiden said quickly, although there was pain in her voice as she said it. "It's alright. It's not your fault."

"Here, let me help you," Dove said, producing a handkerchief as though out of nowhere and making to tie it around the Maiden's hands.

She winced at his touch.

He drew back his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Warrior's hands."

"Don't stop," the Maiden whispered, looking into his eyes.

Dove looked into her eyes in turn, and kept looking at them as he — gently, delicately, with such care in every single motion no matter how slight that one might have thought the Maiden was made of glass just as the Jade Doll was — wound his handkerchief around her hand as a makeshift bandage.

The Knight could hardly miss the way they looked at one another. Well, he would not be the first. And if he was happy, if they were happy, then so be it.

Dove cleared his throat. “No doubt, you will want to continue on your quest,” he said. “And we should be moving on as well—”

“No,” said the Fall Maiden. “Oh no, you cannot go yet. I mean, you must be weary after travelling so far into this gloomy place. Rest awhile with us, share some food and wine to refresh your bodies and your spirits.”

“I don’t have a mouth,” said the Jade Doll.

“I do,” said the wolf.

“Yes, you need more rest than I do,” said the Knight. “You have borne me far, and all I have done is slain one single villain.”

“You have fought?” asked Dove.

“A bandit,” the Knight explained. “The Brigand of Glass and Ashes, she called herself. She presented little challenge.”

“You … you killed her?” asked the Fall Maiden, a tremble in her voice.

“Yes. What else should I do with the likes of her?” asked the Knight.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Maiden murmured. “Yes. Yes, I know you’re right.” She smiled. “Please, please, sit down.”

The Knight sat, her legs hunched up, the thorns of her cuisses scratching at her cuirass and vice versa.

Dove watched her, his eyes flickering between the Knight and the Maiden.

The Jade Doll got down off the back of the wolf, and the wolf sat down beside the Knight; he seemed almost to be purring as he closed his silver eyes.

“Yes, now, take the weight off your feet for a little while, and you’ll feel better,” the Fall Maiden told them. She turned away and walked to a couple of packs that sat on the ground not far from them.

Dove continued to stand and watch as the Fall Maiden knelt at the packs, her fingers working dexterously as she opened it up. With her back to the Knight and her body obscuring the packs, it was hard to see exactly what she was doing, but the Knight presumed that she was getting food and drink out of the bags.

The Fall Maiden turned, looking at the Knight over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and … frightened? Yes, frightened, unmistakably frightened: her mouth was open and her lower lip flat with alarm; she was afraid, but … why? What did she have to be afraid of?

Soft lights began to rise out of the Fall Maiden’s palm. They were golden lights, motes of light that sparkled like stars in this gloomy forest. It was as if she was conjuring fireflies out of gold, bringing them to life and sending them forth in a swarm straight towards the Knight.

They were beautiful. They were so beautiful.

The Knight felt weary. She watched the motes of light as they emerged, she watched them come closer towards her, and she felt … she felt a darkness that was nought to do with the forest, she felt her head loll forwards, she felt herself slipping sideways.

She felt…

She felt…

Amber.

Beacon.

Semblance.

Fall Maiden.

Danger.

Protect.

Semblance.

Sleepy.

Sapphire.

Alone.

Dove.

Semblance.

“What?” the Knight — Ruby, was her name Ruby? Who was the girl in the black dress, was that her? Who was she? — asked, or tried to ask. Sleep slurred her words and made them trip as they shambled out of her mouth. “Amber, what—?”

“Stop!” cried the Jade Doll as she rushed past the Knight towards the Fall Maiden — Amber, was that her name? — and grabbed her by the shoulders. The Jade Doll started to shake her. “Whatever you’re doing to her, stop it!”

Dove drew the short sword he wore at his hip.

The Knight stumbled to her feet, fumbling for her own sword even as she charged at Dove. She didn’t know what it was that was in her mind, she didn’t know what these thoughts were that she had … remembered or imagined or … she didn’t know why those words had suddenly come flooding in, but she knew that Dove had betrayed her, that this Fall Maiden was not to be trusted, and she knew that if she did nothing, then Dove would draw his sword upon the Jade Doll, and she could not allow that to happen.

Dove’s sword was out; the Knight could not draw hers, she could not find the hilt, her mind was too fogged by sleep. But she charged anyway, bent down so that her head was level with Dove’s waist. She charged more like a bull than a man, grappling with him, both her hands around his waist — he yelped as the thorns on her armour pricked him in the vulnerable spot around his waist — before they both fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

The Knight was atop him. He hit her in the head with a mixture of his hand and his sword hilt, but though he made her head ring, he hurt his hand more than he injured her; the Knight heard him cry out in pain.

He should have armoured his hands.

The Knight roared with anger. He had betrayed her. He had betrayed her! He was a villain, as vile as any which they were sworn to fight. She grabbed him by the neck with one hand, and with the other hand, she punched him while he lay on the ground, her fist rising and falling like a hammer down upon him. His head snapped sideways, and a tooth flew from his mouth to land on the ground in a pool of blood.

“Villain,” the Knight snarled as she hit him again. His cheek was bloody and raw, scarred by the thorns on her gauntlet; blood was pouring out of his mouth.

The Knight raised her hand for a third blow.

“No!” the Fall Maiden cried as she leapt on the Knight from behind. She cut herself on the thorns — the Knight could hear her wincing and whimpering in pain — but she clung on nevertheless, trying to pull the Knight off of Dove, or maybe trying to pull the Knight’s helmet off, or both.

It wasn’t wholly clear what she was trying to do, but it was clear that she would not succeed. Her strength was insufficient.

Although, if she was holding onto the Knight, what had she done to the Jade Doll?

The Knight growled and got off Dove — so that she could grab the Fall Maiden by the arms instead and bodily wrench her off and throw her off, casting her aside, flinging her at a nearby tree. She hit the trunk with a sickening thud and landed in a heap on the ground.

The wolf barked, and a growl emanated from his throat.

The Knight left Dove lying on the ground — he tried to move, but his attempts were sluggish, the pain was slowing him — as she advanced upon the Fall Maiden.

She drew her sword.

“What now?” asked the wolf. “Will you slay her? Will you slay them both?”

“Is she not a villain, subtle, false, and treacherous?” the Knight murmured. “Is not death the best salvation for those she would hurt otherwise?”

She looked down at the Fall Maiden. Her arms were covered in cuts; they did not bleed too much, any of them, but together, they had soaked her arms and hands in blood; together, they made her whimper and mewl as she lay at the Knight’s feet.

She lay at the Knight’s feet. She was curled up there, tears in her eyes, her whole body trembling. She held her arms against her chest, staining her white tunic with the blood of her many cuts.

She stared up at the Knight with frightened eyes, tears running down the scars on her face, the scars that seemed so especially large and prominent to the Knight’s gaze now.

“Though you be false, you are no villain,” the Knight murmured. Her sword remained drawn and poised to strike. “Being so, then why?” she demanded. “Why did you attack me?”

“For my safety,” the Fall Maiden whispered.

“Your safety?” the Knight repeated. “For your safety, I … I do not understand.”

"Because of Salem!" the Fall Maiden shrieked.

The Knight's sword trembled in her hand. Salem. She knew the name. A great darkness, greater than the Wicked Witch could ever be, so great that not the Knight, nor all the knights, could hope to bring her down. A menace. A shadow on the world.

A shadow against which she was powerless.

"She gave you those scars," the Knight said.

The Fall Maiden let out a little choked sob. "She hurt me. She was going to kill me. But I … I went to the Witch, and she promised that she'd protect me, but I didn't believe her. I didn't trust her. Hiding in her ruined castle with everyone asleep. She said I didn't have to fall asleep if I didn't want to, but … she said she'd die to keep me safe, and I believed her, but so what? What if she died to protect me, or to protect the Princess, or the Champion, or anyone else? She'd just be dead. Dead and gone and … and they … and I…" She closed her eyes. "Salem said she'd let me go, if only I could … if I … if I lured knights to their deaths. I didn't want to do it, and Dove didn't want to do it — Dove hated it, hated every moment of it — but … but it was the only way. The only way I could be safe."

The Knight stood over her, looking down upon her, sword raised above her. Her sword was raised, but it shook in her hands.

The Fall Maiden was a wicked woman. She had made a pact with a great evil; she had put her life, her safety, above the lives of others; she had encompassed the deaths of noble knights; but standing over her, watching her curled up before her with bleeding arms, watching her sob and shake, the Knight felt … the Knight did not feel … all the righteous wrath that had consumed her when confronted with the Brigand of Glass and Ashes had melted away like morning dew.

There was only a cold sadness left in her, a sadness that it had come to this, that the world was such that things like this could happen, and people less steadfast in their virtues than herself could be forced to do such things to survive in it.

She lowered her sickle sword a little as she rounded on Dove. "You didn't like it?" she asked. "You hated it? Then why did you do it?"

Dove, like the Fall Maiden, lay on the ground. He spat blood out of his mouth, and looked up at her. "For love," he said, softly and simply. "Because I love her."

They deserved death. They had both done such things that warranted it. If the Knight were to cut off their heads here and now, then no one — no one at all — would be able to say that she had done the wrong thing. But she did not desire to do it. Rather, her sword felt heavy in her hand, and she wanted nothing more than to thrust it back into her belt and not to draw it for a while.

She looked past Dove, to where the Jade Doll lay on her side on the ground.

"Are you alright?" asked the Knight. "Did she hurt you?"

"She pushed me," the Jade Doll replied with a slight groan. "But I'll be fine." She climbed slowly back up to her feet. "I was afraid I was going to crack somewhere, but I don't think I did."

"I'm glad," the Knight said softly. She felt a little guilty to even consider that that — some harm done to the Jade Doll — might have stirred her to an anger that the other crimes of these two did not; after all, as a virtuous individual, and even more as a brave knight, she ought to weigh all lives equally in her heart. But it would have grieved her if they had shattered the Doll, and might have driven away some of the pity that she felt for this frightened, wounded girl who had sought to escape the thorns.

It did not excuse her crimes, but it did make the Knight inclined … inclined to pause and give thought before she shed her blood.

For the Knight’s own blood did not thrill to the thought of shedding the blood of others. She was no Brigand of Glass and Ashes; she took life only … only for the safety of others, just as the Fall Maiden had sought to take her life for her own safety.

She took life only to protect, to save, because that was why she had dreamed of knighthood: to save people, not to kill them.

So why then should she not save the Fall Maiden? Why should she not save Dove?

Why should she not save lives from herself and over-eager judgement?

Not that there was anything eager about any judgement she might render upon these two. All the more reason to save them then.

"Go," the Knight muttered. "I’ll not shed your blood. Go and … I pray you do not give me cause to regret this … kindness. Do no evil, serve Salem no longer, live and love and keep the peace. And call on me, if ever you are in need again, and I will come and save you once again."

There was a moment of pause, of silence. The Fall Maiden stared up at her, with eyes wide. "You … you’re letting us go?”

The Knight sheathed her sword. “I am trusting you to reform yourself and live better after this,” she said. “Perhaps I am naive, but perhaps it is better to be naive than to let the world make me a killer, when I set out to save lives instead. Therefore, let me save your lives, if only from myself.”

Again, a pause. Dove said, "Thank—"

"Don't thank me," the Knight said. “I do this not for your gratitude but my own heart … and perhaps for a girl I met at a crossroads, who might approve. Go now, and fare you well in love and peace for all the days hereafter.”

She watched as Dove scrambled to his feet and made his way as quick as she could over to the Fall Maiden. She watched as he lifted her up in his arms, cradling her there while she put her arms around his neck, and started to carry her away.

She did not watch as he carried her off; rather, she turned her back upon the both of them, but she could still hear the sounds, hear Dove grunting with effort as he fought through his own pain to carry off the Fall Maiden.

The Knight couldn't help but think that he deserved better.

But then, what was true about deserving punishment surely applied to the deserving of love also, no? If all were loved only by those who deserved to be loved, then many would be lonely.

Though perhaps I would be less lonely than I am.

The wolf padded softly over to her. "What will become of them now?" he asked.

"I don't know," the Knight replied. "I have hope for them, or else I wouldn’t have let them go like that, but I don’t know. I only hope that I don’t regret it, and that they don’t fall into anymore that … that they’ll regret.”

“You were very kind to them,” said the Jade Doll.

“I was merciful,” the Knight corrected her. “Kindness has nothing to do with it.”

“No?” asked the Jade Doll.

“There is nothing kind about letting the wicked roam free,” the Knight declared. “But I did not believe that she was wicked, and I know that Dove is not. And I don’t think that he would fall in love with a wicked soul; no, she was not foul; she … she was afraid, not malicious. And while that makes her a coward, at the same time … at the same time, this is a world that's full of things to be afraid of."

"Just like the Witch said," said the Jade Doll softly.

The Knight didn't answer that. She didn’t want to answer it, for all that — or because — the Jade Doll was not wrong. The Wicked Witch was afraid, of the many things in the world there were to be afraid of, just like the Fall Maiden. And she had betrayed the Knight, just as Dove had. So, really, what was the difference between them?

But that was not something the Knight wished to answer or admit, and so she said to the wolf, "How do you feel? Do you need to rest for real?"

The wolf shook his head. "Nay, I can bear you yet, if you wish. It is not far now."

And so, the Knight and the Jade Doll mounted on the wolf's back once more, and the faithful wolf carried them out of the dark forest — and into an even darker place.

He bore them into Mountain Glenn.

It was a ruined city. It was a dead city. It was a city of wreckage and rubble, a city of crumbling old collapsing buildings, of fallen barricades that had failed to keep the grimm at bay … of old bleached skulls and discarded bones lying in the streets.

"What happened here?" the Jade Doll asked, her arms shivered where they wrapped around the Knight's waist.

"I don't know," the Knight admitted. "But I imagine the grimm came, and once they came, they could not be driven out until…"

Until everyone was dead.

"Why would anyone choose to live here now?" asked the Jade Doll. "Why would anyone want to make a home in a place like this?"

At one point — at one point not very long ago at all — the Knight would have answered that it was because the Wicked Witch was as wicked as her name, and so she was drawn to death, and to decay, and to reminders of the destruction that she hoped to visit upon the world. Now, however, she thought that it might be different. Now, she wondered if the Witch might have other motives.

"She is a coward, devoid of valour," the Knight said. "She fears the world, and so she has come here, to a place where only death and nothing living dwells, and hopes the world will pass her by."

"That doesn't sound very nice," the Jade Doll said.

"No," the Knight agreed. "But there is a sort of sense to it, as twisted as that sense may be.”

Mountain Glenn was dark, darker even than the forest they had passed through to reach this place; the sun had failed completely, the moon was dead; it was so dark, it was as if they were underground rather than above it. It was so dark, it was as though the earth had swallowed them up, whole and entire, and left only a little light coming from … it was hard to say where the light was coming from, only that the Knight could see a little of what lay around them.

She found herself glad that she could not see more. She did not want to see more. She did not want to see the whole vast expanse of this place in all its devastation. She did not want to see the bones piled high, the gruesome remains of a home destroyed.

What she could see was bad enough.

There seemed to be no grimm here in the city; they might have destroyed it, but they had moved on afterwards. There was not a howl or growl or snarl to be heard, no shuffling feet somewhere off in the darkness, nothing skittering or crawling around unseen. No doubt, that was why the Witch had felt safe enough to set up her base here; she would not have felt so secure had the grimm continued to infest this city of the dead.

As to where the Witch herself might be, an emerald light shone in the darkness, illuminating the top of a ragged tower, holed in places but still standing tall above the rest of a crumbling old ruined fortress. The Fall Maiden had talked of just such a thing, the Witch hiding in her ruined castle, trying to convince the Maiden that she could hold off Salem's malice.

The light showed them the way. A folly on the part of the Witch, to show where she was to any comers. After all, how many friendly visitors was she likely to have?

They approached the crumbling walls of the castle, where the gatehouse — what remained of it — gaped open like an open mouth, and the crenellations had fallen away from the walls, where old stone gargoyles looked out across the rotting corpse of a city filled with corpses.

And so too looked the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun. She was silhouetted by the emerald light of the tower behind her, but the Knight knew that it was her, that it must be her, and not just by the length of her hair as it waved in the chill wind that wafted through the dead city.

She stood on the crumbling battlements and looked down on them as they approached. As they drew near, the Witch's voice echoed down to them.

"So you are come to my gate, brave knight!" she shouted down at them.

"What gate?" called the Jade Doll back up to her.

"It's a metaphorical gate," replied the Witch, a touch of irritation entering her voice. "Why have you come? Have you come to join me, to sleep in fairyland and let the world in all its horrors pass you by?"

"No!" declared the Knight. "No, not in a thousand years, not ever. You know why I am here. I am here to save the Princess…” She paused, and when she spoke again it was in a voice almost tender. “And to save you, also.”

"To save me?” demanded the Wicked Witch. “I pray you, by our old fellowship, mock me not, for I am … I am not made to bear the mocking scorn; I do not like it. I would rather have your honest hate than your feigned pity.”

“And what if the pity were not feigned?” asked the Knight.

“I … I don’t believe you!” cried the Wicked Witch. “I thought you better than to play such games, to toy with spirits, to speak untruths and raise … false hopes. You are come to my gate, my metaphorical gate, but further than that, you shall not enter, not for the Princess nor any other. You cannot enter here!”

So she spoke, and as she spoke, her voice acquired an echo of power, an echo which made the city shake, made the shattered walls of the buildings tremble and shed yet further detritus upon the ground, even as the ground itself rumbled and roiled. The wolf took a step back, and then another, as thorns, vast thorns, a great hedge of thorns each broader than the waist of a strong man burst out of the ground to form a new wall, stronger than the stone wall with all its weaknesses, around the castle.

The thorns grew twenty feet high or higher; the Wicked Witch was lost behind them; she and her wall and even the light of the tower were concealed. There were only the thorns, and the barbs like spearheads protruding out to snag the unwary.

But the Knight was not unwary. She was the Knight of Roses, and she had thorns of her own; she was covered in them as much as this new wall was, and she feared no other thorns in the garden. She leapt from the wolf's back, drawing her sickle sword, and began to scythe away at the thorns before her, her blade cutting through the vines no matter how thick they were, hacking at them, wounding them, severing them completely until they fell. She feared no thorns, for her armour was proof against all barbs, while they had no such protection from her blade. She cut through them as though they were nothing at all; they could not stand before her, and she hewed a path for the wolf and the Jade Doll to follow behind her, cutting and cutting until she had cut clean through the thorns and forged a path through to the other side.

The Knight walked through the gap in the thorns, her cloak rippling behind her, managing not to get caught on any barbs on either side as she took the final steps beyond the makeshift wall the Witch had conjured.

The Witch was waiting for her on the other side, her black sword drawn, the night-dark blade almost invisible in this darkness, until the Witch by some power lit it aflame, and the fire that rippled up the sword showed clearly where it was: raised above the Witch's head, poised for a descending stroke.

"Now you will deal with me, O Knight," the Witch declared. "And all the power at my command."

"As I have told you," the Knight looked down at her own sword. She thrust it into her belt. "I would rather not."

The Witch's green eyes bulged. There was a touch of hysterical laughter in her voice as she said, "No?"

"No," replied the Knight. "No, I don't want to fight you. I don't want to kill you."

"Bold of you to assume you would," the Witch muttered. "But if you are not here to fight, and not to sleep, why are you here?"

"To show you mercy," the Knight answered.

The Witch of the Setting Sun stared at her a moment, and longer than a moment; moments passed, and still, the Witch stared. "'Mercy'?" she whispered. She snorted. “Still you play this game with me?”

“It is no game, but words truly spoken,” insisted the Knight.

“'Truly spoken'?” cried the Witch. “You are not merciful!”

The Knight recoiled. “I … if I am become hard, is it not because you and the world have made me so?” she demanded. “Have I not cause to armour up my heart, when you misused it so?”

The Witch licked her lips. “Cause,” she whispered. “Some cause, great cause, unquestionable cause, 'tis so, I will concede it. I did not seek to abuse your heart, but through the course of mine own heart, I hurt yours nonetheless.” She turned her eyes away. “Ignored your counsel, thought little of your beliefs, belittled and demeaned you through my conduct.” She shook her head. “And for this courtesy, you would show me mercy?”

"Aye, for all that I would," said the Knight. “For I would not be what you have made of me. I would be more. I would be better, as once I was when I set out.” She took a step forward. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

The Witch's lower lip trembled. Her sword shook in her hands; it shook so much that she had to lower it. "'Afraid'?" the Witch said softly. "I am terrified."

"But not for yourself," the Knight said, taking another step towards her. "It is for others that you fear, no? For the Champion, for the Knight of Sunbeams, for the Princess—"

"For you," the Witch said tremulously.

The Knight paused. "I … I remember," she murmured. "Or I have dreamed, or I have imagined, or … I know not what it is, but I see a girl — a little girl in red and black — and you. A warrior rushes towards you with a terrible red sword, the girl pushes you aside, and then … she receives in return a dolorous blow."

"Yes," the Witch whispered. "Yes. I…" She took a step back, a stumbling step away from the Knight. Her burning sword fell from her hands and landed with a clatter on the ground. "I would take a hundred wounds upon my breast; cut off my breasts, let crows pluck out my eyes, feed my entrails to the baying hounds, and I shall smile." She did smile, though it did not reach her eyes, and seemed a rather unsettling sight as it quivered and wobbled on her face. Tears began to well in her eyes. "I will smile," she said again, "so long as you … all of you…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand. "This world is so cruel, so hard, so full of peril, and you … all of you … all my pretty ones, I…"

"What you have done is wrong," the Knight said. "What you do is evil."

"I know it well enough," said the Witch, her voice hoarse and quiet.

"But you," the Knight said. "You are not … you do not deserve the style of Wicked Witch."

The Witch blinked back a few tears, though more sprung swiftly up to take their place. "No?"

"No," the Knight said. "You are … you are pitiful. You're … pathetic. A half-formed and misshapen thing, with no morals or values to guide you, only … only impulse, and a heart." She paused, and took two more steps towards the Witch. "But it is … I must admit, it is a heart that aims for goodness, though it misses the mark more oft than not."

The Witch sniffed. "A heart which aims for goodness," she repeated. "A good heart, a constant heart, a tender and a feeling heart."

"It is not enough," the Knight told her. "It is far, far from enough. A good heart alone does not goodness make, not by a yard nor even by a mile." She paused. "But … it is so much that my own heart does not sit easy at the thought of stopping yours. Live, then. Be saved from me, by me. Live and fear my wrath no more. It is all spent, as is my love, love and hate and all things … gone. We are nothing to one another now, not friends or foes but … perfect strangers. Not forgiven … but erased."

The Knight felt something change; she could not say exactly what she felt, but when she looked down at her hands, at the gauntlets that enclosed her hands, at her arms and her chest, the thorns were gone. All the thorns that had sprouted from her armour were gone, vanished, shrunk back into the metal, disappeared as though they had never been at all.

And in their place, flowers were engraved upon the metal, which bore no tarnish now but shone as bright as silver, silver engraved with myriad roses, a field of flowers blooming in her defence.

The Witch, not the Wicked Witch, just the Witch, half-turned away from the Knight. She did not bother to wipe her eyes; the tears were falling down her cheeks too readily for that. She said nothing.

"What you're doing is wrong," the Knight said softly. "You know that, don't you?"

The Witch sniffed and nodded. "I wanted to protect them."

"I know," said the Knight. "But you can't, and even if you could, you wouldn't have the right. Where is the Princess?"

The Witch hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "Come with me."

She led the way, and the Knight followed.

She followed across the courtyard of the ruined castle and into the tower from which the emerald light shone so brightly. She followed up the narrow, winding stairs, where cobwebs clung to the walls, where the wind howled through the gaps in the stonework, and where the decaying wooden boards creaked alarmingly beneath the Knight's feet. She followed up and up, round and round, climbing and climbing until the Witch led her all the way to a room, in good repair considering the state of the tower, with no holes in the walls visible.

In that room, in a bed surrounded by flowers, there lay a girl, a young girl with a pale face, dressed in a black dress with red trim around the hem, wearing black stockings and high black boots. A girl with short black hair, with tips of bloody red.

In the bed, there lay the girl that the Knight had dreamed.

In the bed, there lay herself.

Memories returned as Ruby Rose shoved Sunset aside and crossed the room, rose petals falling on the floor in her wake, to where she lay. Amber had used her semblance on her, Amber had put her to sleep, and now…

Now, here she was.

She didn't know how she knew, but she did know that she could wake up from this, if she chose. She was right here. She was sleeping, but she could choose not to. She could break the … the spell, for want of a better word, that Amber had put on her.

She could wake up.

And she could let go of all her anger. Let go of hate, let go of love, let go of … everything. Perfect strangers, all things erased between them. No bitterness, no need to…

No need to let Sunset Shimmer trouble her mind or heart, for Sunset would be as nothing to her.

Ruby reached out for her forehead.

"You don't have to go," Sunset said from where she stood by the doorway. "You can stay here, if you will. Stay in fairyland, where you are strong enough to overcome all your enemies with ease—"

"Fake enemies," Ruby replied. "They're not real, nor are the battles. Cinder isn't dead, and Amber … why did Amber do that to me?"

"How should I know, I'm not really here?" asked Sunset dryly. "But even if you can't defeat your real enemies here, at least you're safe. Safe from danger, safe from harm—"

"Safe from living?" Ruby asked. "No. No, I can't stay. I won't." She looked down at herself, her sleeping self. "But I'll remember this. I'll remember what I decided." She paused. "Since you're not really here, I don't need to say goodbye, do I?"

"No," Sunset said. "But I can wish you good luck. I don't know what you're going to wake up into."

"Neither do I," said Ruby. "That's what makes life exciting."

She turned away and reached out to place her armoured hand upon the shoulder of her sleeping self, where she lay atop the bed.

"Time to wake up," she said.

Ruby Rose opened her eyes.

Author's Note

A couple of volume 9 references here, with the Paper Pleaser and the Jade Doll. My original concept for this chapter blended fairy tales and video game references much more evenly, there aren't that many video game elements left, with the main one being the Paper Pleaser as a quest giver NPC. I wanted a sort of mushroom type thing (not having ever really played Mario Bros I'm not sure if they are NPC quest givers but that's the impression I get, 'Mario, Bowser has kidnapped Princess Peach!' kind of thing) and the Paper Pleasers seem like they might fit the bill.

It's suggested that the Paper Pleasers weren't in The Girl Who Fell Through the World, but they were in this version.

And I just though the jade doll, life size obviously, was a neat idea when considering a Penny-analogue.

Jailbreak (New)

Jailbreak

The rat crept about the corner of the cell.

It was a grotty corner, filthy, caked with grime, like the grime that covered so much of the floor. It was a corner fit for a rat, like the rat that crept about, dragging its tail behind it; every so often, it lifted its head and glanced this way or that, then lowered its head back down again and crept forward, scratching at the floor and the muck with its paws.

On the bed, in a position to look down on the rat like a bird of prey looking down upon the mouse in the field, Gilda moved very slowly. She was aware that too sudden a movement, that any motion too swift, might disturb the creature and send it scurrying away for its hole in the wall. So she moved slowly. The mattress on which she lay — the mattress that was so old it had springs sticking out of it through the fabric — shifted beneath her weight, but it didn’t make enough noise to disturb the rat.

It just kept on doing what it was doing, crawling about, looking up, looking down, scratching.

Gilda shuffled to the edge of the bed. Her hands were shackled together, which was awkward, but she could still move them enough, she thought, for this.

She watched the creeping rat like a hawk. The rat still hadn’t noticed her presence.

Gilda sprang off the bed, hurling herself down on the grubby floor and on the rat. The rat tried to run, but Gilda was too quick, her hands lashing out to grab the rat tight. The rat squeaked in alarm, it scratched at Gilda’s hands, it bit her — and Gilda felt all of it, with her aura suppressed like it was; each scratch and bite hurt far more than it felt like it should — the rat squirmed and struggled and wriggled in her grasp, but Gilda held on.

She held on despite the pain in her finger, the blood leaking from the cuts. She held on, and even adjusted her grip upon the wriggling rat, moving her hand up its fat body towards its neck.

The rat bit her again, sinking its teeth in deep to Gilda’s forefinger.

Gilda winced, but she didn’t let go; in fact, she gripped the rat’s neck between her forefinger and thumb and snapped it with a sharp twist.

“Please tell me you’re not going to eat that,” Ilia said.

Gilda looked up. Of the group that she had led on their ill-fated mission to kill Dashie and Blake, Ilia was the only one sharing a cell with her. The others were … she didn’t actually know where the others were; they might all be still in the hospital for all she knew. Or they might be in other cells here, or in other prisons. Ilia was the only one whose location she knew.

Gilda wasn’t sure that was altogether a good thing.

The cell in which they were both confined was a grim place; the floor — on which Gilda was lying, getting stains on her grey prison overalls — looked like it hadn’t had a clean in ever, and the plaster in the walls was crumbling in some places, not to mention the hole in said wall that the rat had come through.

There was a nasty smell coming from the toilet on the far side of the room, opposite the bunk beds that … the mattresses could have been better, but Gilda supposed the beds were alright.

They were about the only thing in here that could be called alright, in her opinion.

The door into the cell was barred but open; anyone could see into it if they came down the corridor, although no one showed any sign of coming down the corridor; it had been a while since they last saw a guard.

Gilda wasn’t too surprised; this place was such a dump that she wouldn’t want to come down here either.

She got up onto her knees, and opened her mouth, and leaned forwards towards the dead rat hanging limply in her grip.

“Ugh!” Ilia groaned, turning away and covering her mouth with one hand.

Gilda rolled her eyes as she lowered the dead rat. “I’m not actually going to eat it, come on!” she cried.

Ilia glanced back at her. “You’re not?”

“No!” Gilda shouted, throwing the rat over Ilia’s head and through the bars of the cell doors. It hit the wall on the other side of the corridor and then fell down, motionless, onto the corridor floor. “I just wanted to kill it, that’s all. I didn’t want it crawling on me in the middle of the night when I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh,” Ilia murmured. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Gilda stood up. “Did you really think that I might actually eat it? A dead rat? Raw?”

“You were just scrabbling around on the floor with a rat,” Ilia pointed out. “Also, those cuts are gonna get infected if you leave them in a room like this.”

Gilda looked down at her hands. They were bleeding, not a lot, but a bit. “I don’t suppose you can help me tear up my sheet and make a couple of bandages?” she asked.

“What are you going to use for a blanket afterwards?” asked Ilia.

“I’m not sure I’ll notice the difference; have you seen these blankets?” Gilda asked. She got up and walked over to the bed, grabbing the thin quilt and throwing it to the foot of the bed so that she could get at the thin white sheet that lay underneath. She started to tug it free. “Hold onto this while I start tearing some strips off, will you?”

Ilia took a step forward. “I also,” she began. “I mean, you are from Low Town, right?”

Gilda looked at her. She stared at her. She dropped the blanket and flipped Ilia off with both hands because that was the only reasonable response to what she had just said. “Seriously?” She demanded. “Seriously? That … that is just … piss on you, okay! You think Low Town is full of people just eating rats? And I suppose you think we have cockroaches for dessert?”

Ilia’s face began to turn blue.

“If you weren’t a faunus, I would say that that’s really racist,” Gilda declared. “Since you are a faunus, it’s just really classist.”

“But you did have rats, right?” Ilia asked. “In Low Town?”

Gilda snorted. “No,” she said. “My parents kept a nice, clean house. It was cold, yeah, there were icicles on the windows, and we didn’t always get a very good CCT signal, and it was a little bit small and pokey, but it was clean, and we kept it clean because it was ours. Our house. Our home.”

Ilia was silent for a moment. “We had rats,” she admitted. “And cockroaches.”

“Did you eat them?” Gilda asked.

A touch of red mingled with the blue on Ilia’s skin as she glared at Gilda.

“Not so much fun when the boot is on the other foot, is it?” Gilda asked.

Ilia didn’t respond.

Gilda continued to pull at the sheet. “So, where was this?”

“Mantle,” Ilia said. “You know a place called The Pitworks?”

Gilda shook her head. “I don’t know Mantle.”

“Never been?” asked Ilia.

“No,” Gilda replied. “Never.”

“You haven’t missed much,” Ilia muttered. “Here, give me that.” She held out her hands; they were shackled together just like Gilda’s.

Gilda handed her the blanket; Ilia took it and held it still while Gilda began to tear off strips.

“Our home wasn’t cold, but it was small,” Ilia went on. “And we had rats, and cockroaches like I said, and … and in the neighbourhood, people used to say that at least we were better off than the folks in Low Town.”

“I guess everyone needs to look down on someone, just to feel a little better about themselves,” replied Gilda. “Would you mind?”

“Sure,” Ilia murmured, throwing the now-torn sheet back onto the bed and taking the strips that Gilda had torn off. She began to wind them around Gilda’s hands, covering off the cuts that the rat had made, wrapping them tightly and then tying them off. “You realise that if we stay the night here, we’ll probably get cockroaches here too?”

Gilda looked around. She couldn’t see any sign of any creepy-crawlies anywhere. “You think so?”

“They’ll come when it’s dark, when the lights go out,” Ilia said. “This place is disgusting. Of course they’d put faunus in a cell like this.”

“Or all the cells are just as bad as this one,” Gilda muttered.

“I don’t believe that,” Ilia said. “That’s … there’s no way they’d put humans in a place like this. This is only fit for animals.”

“Some people say criminals are animals,” Gilda replied. “And a lot of those people write for Valish newspapers. Don’t get me wrong, I know there’s discrimination out there; I’m just not certain this is it.” She paused. “What do you mean by ‘if’ we spend the night in here? Do you have plans?”

“Obviously!” Ilia cried. “We can’t stay here; we have to get out! We have a mission to complete!”

“We failed that mission,” Gilda pointed out.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Ilia demanded. “We still have our hands, our legs, our will, and courage. That means that our mission isn’t failed yet. It isn’t over yet. It doesn’t end until Blake and Rainbow Dash are dead, the High Leader gives us new orders, or we give our lives for the cause. We have to get out of this cell.” She turned away from Gilda and approached the doors, putting her hands around the metal bars. “We have a job to do.”

She began to pull at the doors, as though with her aura suppressed, she nevertheless had the strength to wrench the barred door off its hinges and throw it away, then fight her way through everyone who was or might be guarding this place.

She grunted, she heaved, she rattled the bars, but they did not budge.

Gilda watched without lending a hand or offering to do so. She just watched, silently.

She twitched, shifting from side to side; her wings were strapped down to her back, and the forced inactivity was making them restless, like legs that had sat down for too long.

Ilia turned to look at her. “Are you going to help me out?”

“Do you really think that’s going to work?”

Ilia let go of the bars. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I don’t know,” Gilda admitted. “I mean, I’ve broken out of prison before, but I didn’t do it in one night.”

Ilia’s eyebrows rose. “You were imprisoned.”

“For a month and a half, no big deal,” Gilda said. “It doesn’t make me a martyr for the cause or nothing.”

“But it isn’t nothing, all the same,” Ilia replied. “Here in Vale?”

Gilda shook her head. “Atlas. My cell there was a lot cleaner than this, I have to say. The bed was more comfortable too, although because it was memory foam, it remembered the person who’d been in the cell before me, and they weren’t quite my size.”

“I know what you mean; it’s a problem with memory foam, if you don’t get it new,” Ilia replied, without saying how she knew this. “So what did you do? Was it for something—?”

“Not related to the White Fang, no; I didn’t join the White Fang until after I got out,” Gilda explained. “I … I’d been thinking about it, I’d read the pamphlets, got into a fight with Rainbow Dash about it, I was … I’d woken up to what was facing our people, but I hadn’t actually gone and done anything about it yet. Not until my parents left for Menagerie. I…”

She had been all on her own for the first time in her life. She’d said goodbye to her parents with a pack of lies at the docks — yes, don’t worry, I’ll write, things are going to be great, I’ll be fine — and then found herself all on her own, with parents gone, a best friend who didn’t want to know her, and thanks to the discrimination of the system, no real prospects — not that she was without skills; she was a dab hand when it came to electronics; she could rebuild computers, although not scrolls, because they were too small and fiddly. But, because she hadn’t gone to the right school, because she didn’t have a virtual piece of paper on her scroll with a qualification on it, then what she could actually do, the skills that she had, didn’t matter.

It was okay for her parents to go to Menagerie and live out their sunlit years, but the sun hadn’t even risen on Gilda’s years, and she was staring down the barrel of … what? Poverty? The Atlesian army? Taking orders from Dash, yes sir, no sir? Working down a mine? Or in a Marigold fulfilment warehouse as one of the ten percent of organic employees they were forced to keep on alongside the robots?

And so, when she’d seen an ad for an upcoming faunus rights demo up in Atlas, she’d decided to go along. She’d gone up to Atlas … and she’d bought some fireworks. She hadn’t really been planning to use them, but she’d seen some chatter about how the cops might start something, so…

She couldn’t exactly remember how it had started. There had been cops, and the cops wouldn’t let them pass, and then … it had been dark, and there had been a bang, people had started to panic behind her, and Gilda had thrown a firework at the police.

Then she’d charged their line while they were blinded by the flash. She’d hoped to force a break in their line to let people out, but she’d only managed to crack one guy’s visor before the rest piled on her.

She'd gotten sentenced to two years in prison for disorderly conduct and assaulting a police officer. She'd broken out not two months later.

"I kept my nose clean," she said. "I didn't cause trouble; I didn't get sent to the cooler. I bided my time. Then, after a little bit, after gathering the right tools, I was able to unpick the restraints holding my wings down; one day, in the exercise yard, I took off. I was over the fence and away. Then it was just a matter of finding somewhere I could land to get the cuffs off, and … I joined the White Fang after that, and they sent me here to Vale."

"Good for you," Ilia replied. "But we don't have a month and a half — we don't even have a month, or a week — the tournament ends today; you left this until the last possible moment—"

"It wasn't as though we were ever going to be blessed with opportunities to get this done," Gilda replied, her voice rising.

"Blake and Rainbow Dash will be going to Atlas soon," Ilia said. "And how are we supposed to get at them there?"

Maybe we aren't, Gilda thought. Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe we should go back to the High Leader and tell her that we couldn't do it.

Not that she was likely to look too kindly on an admission of failure like that, but what was the alternative? A fool's errand to Atlas? Ilia might say that they needed to get out of this cell and go hunting for Blake and Dashie again right this instant, but the fact was that Ilia's determination alone wasn't going to get them out of this cell. Gilda was in no doubt that they could break out of here, but it would take at least a little time.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I know that we can't just walk out of this cell because you want to."

She looked around. The walls looked like they might fall apart in time — maybe they were made of that aerated concrete stuff that Gilda had seen in the news a while back, the stuff that had bubbles in it, as hard to fathom as that might be, and fell down after about fifty years or so — but not in time for Ilia's very tight timetable. Above them, there were no convenient ceiling tiles to be lifted up, no sign of any airways that they could crawl into, and on the floor, even if they could break the toilet, then the pipe was too small even for Ilia.

But…

"I…" Gilda hesitated. "I guess I've got one idea. Though I'm not sure it'll work."

"Your last idea didn't," Ilia pointed out. "But go on."

"How was I supposed to know that Blake was going to call for backup?" Gilda demanded. "You didn't think she would either, if I remember."

"That's why I'm still willing to listen to your idea," Ilia replied.

Gilda didn't give her idea; instead, she said, "It seems like she's changed, doesn't it? Blake. And not altogether for the worse."

"'Not for' … of course it's for the worse!" Ilia snapped. "She's with Atlas now; she's with the enemy!"

"And she called for help," Gilda reminded her. "Would she have done that before?"

Ilia was silent for a moment. Her skin turned green. "No," she muttered. "No, she wouldn't have. She would have … I would have been left wondering where she was, hoping that Adam knew where she'd gone, cursing the fact that she had to do things on her own, that she didn't … do you think that she trusts her more than me? Your Atlas friend, Rainbow Dash; do you think Blake trusts her more than she trusted me?"

"She trusts her," Gilda said. "I don't know how much she trusted you." That was about as nice as Gilda knew how to put it, considering that, on the face of it, the answer was pretty clearly 'yes, she does.' "But it seems like, however much she trusted you, being here, and around the Atlesians, has changed her from the Blake we knew. And you just said that you would have preferred the Blake who acts like this than the Blake who used to act like that."

"On our side," said Ilia.

"Obviously, yeah, but…" Gilda stopped. Maybe there's a reason for it. Maybe there's a reason why Blake has become better for spending time with those people, on that side, and not with us. Maybe it's something good about them.

Maybe it's something bad about us.

That hardly seemed like something that Ilia would like to hear, and Gilda didn't want to pick a fight, and so she said, "Anyway, my plan is that if we were to rip this toilet up out of the floor, what would happen?"

Ilia frowned. "Water would spill all over the floor of our cell?"

"Maybe," Gilda admitted. "I'm not a plumber, but I'm hoping that there'll be a big spurt of water that will shoot up like a geyser, and then the guards will open the door, and we can take them out and get their keycards to unlock our restraints and open any doors between us and getting out of here. Of course, even if that works, we'll still have all the other cops between us and freedom to worry about, not to mention the fact that we'll be wanted when we get outside."

"We'll always be wanted, no matter when we escape," Ilia replied. "And once I get my aura back, I can handle any number of Valish cops. I say we go for it; what do we have to lose?"

"We could flood our cell, and nobody cares enough to let us out since we brought it on ourselves," Gilda said flatly.

Ilia smirked, as though Gilda had been making a joke. "Perhaps," she admitted. "But with a barred door, it won't take long before the flooding is in the corridor, not just our cell; it isn't like they can just leave us to drown like animals in a sealed compartment. And besides, great heroes of the struggle have suffered more than a damp room and flooding in the cause; how can we be squeamish now? I say we go for it."

Gilda could have pointed out that the great heroes of the cause — she might have said the great martyrs of the cause — had suffered more and risked everything for a cause that was a lot more admirable than killing two people who had actually helped the cause quite a bit. It was like Dashie had said: she and Blake had done a lot for the faunus recently, and what had they done? What were they doing? They had — and they would again if they got out of here — tried to kill the two people who had actually helped. The shutting down of those rogue SDC facilities — apparently rogue; how true that was and how much it was all SDC damage control was an open question — had done more for the faunus in Atlas than … a lot more than throwing fireworks at the cops, that was for sure. Dash and Blake had done something real, and they wanted to kill her for it.

What would the old heroes and martyrs of the cause have had to say about that, huh?

Maybe I should have stuck with 'there's no way out of this cell right away; we have to be patient' and then let Blake and Rainbow Dash head to Atlas where they'll be safer.

No, there were reasons not to do that. Apart from the fact that Gilda wouldn't mind getting out of this cell more quickly if she could, there was also the fact that, if she thought that Gilda and Ilia and all the rest were lost, either dead or captured with no immediate prospect of escape, the High Leader might not just shrug and put the whole thing on hold until they could escape, if they could escape. After all, she seemed to want them dead quite a bit. It was important to her, important enough that she'd come all the way out here from Menagerie just to give the orders in person. So she probably wouldn't just shrug and accept failure as one of those things; she'd send someone else. Maybe someone more vicious, someone with less concern for keeping it clean. So long as Gilda was in charge of this operation, then she could shape it, direct it; she could make sure that no one got any ideas about killing Blake's mother, or one of Rainbow's friends — yes, sure, Gilda had been about to kill Applejack, but Applejack had brought that on herself by deciding to join the battle. If you chose to fight, then you had no right to complain if you died in the fighting. It was a completely different thing from seeking out Fluttershy and killing her, or even sticking a knife to her throat to make a point to Dash.

Not everyone that the High Leader could send on this job would be so … fair about it. And Gilda knew that because most of the people that the High Leader had assigned to this job wouldn’t have been, left to their own devices. Even Ilia had been on board with killing Blake's mom, although she seemed to be thinking about how the Lady of Menagerie deserved it rather than as a tactic to get at Blake.

Either way, whatever Ilia's precise motives, the point was that Gilda couldn't afford to get left behind. The only way to keep a leash on some of these psychos was to keep herself at their head.

Or leave the rest of them to rot, go with Ilia on a second attempt, and hope that she—

No. No, I can't do that. I might not like her all that much, but I can't lead her to her death, or even hope that the fighting kills her. I'm not that kind of person.

And she doesn't deserve it.

Whatever bizarre ideas about Low Town Ilia might have, and however much she might vindicate Gilda's own ideas about Mantle as being much worse than the place she grew up ever could have been, Gilda understood the other girl. She was angry. She wanted to stick it to the human. She felt betrayed and abandoned. There were a lot of people in the White Fang who felt that way, and Gilda was one of them, and while she didn't share the sense that Ilia gave off of feeling like she was the bearer of the light when everyone around had turned to the darkness, all the same Gilda, would be lying if she said she couldn't sympathise with where Ilia was coming from.

She didn't want to get the other girl shot, see her get her head blown off by Dash or stabbed through the chest by Blake. She didn't deserve that, she deserved … Gilda wasn't one hundred percent sure what either of them deserved at this point, but it was something. Something other than to die like that.

And while she didn't feel as strongly towards the others, they had still been put under her command.

Her command; as long as it was still Gilda's command, then she was going to try and keep her people alive; that was her duty as their leader.

And so she had to try and get out of this cell.

"I'm sure you'll remember that when there's water everywhere and nobody is listening to us," Gilda muttered darkly. She knelt down on the dirty floor and ran her hands around the toilet. It was stainless steel, but while it had avoided rust, that didn't mean it had avoided stains, although Gilda tried to. Luckily, none of it looked very fresh, although that was not the most brilliant consolation ever for Gilda.

I'll probably need fresh bandages after this, she thought as she managed to get purchase under the lip of the bowl. It was awkward, what with her hands being in restraints, but she could get her fingers under there, and then push upwards.

Gilda heaved; even without her aura she still had muscles on her arms, she wasn't completely helpless, and just by pulling up she made the toilet rattle a little bit. She felt it strain against the bolts holding it on the floor, although maybe not straining as much as she would have liked.

"Help me with this," she said to Ilia, who tried to squeeze around onto the other side of the toilet from Gilda, but who found that was too much even for her small size.

So she ended up kneeling down at the front of it. "This is disgusting," she muttered.

"Are you squeamish or something?" asked Gilda.

"No," Ilia said quickly, maybe even a little too quickly.

But she got her fingers in there all the same; she obviously wasn't that squeamish.

"Okay," Gilda said. "One. Two. Three!"

They both heaved, making the poorly-fitted toilet rattled as the water in the bowl swirled around, shaken from side to side as Gilda and Ilia both pulled upwards. The fixtures strained.

Gunfire erupted.

Gilda stopped, turning her head towards the barred door. There was a moment of silence and then more gunfire. A lot more gunfire; the sound was louder than it had been.

Gilda let go of the toilet and slunk towards the barred door out of the cell. The sound didn't sound as though it was coming from their corridor, and when Gilda put her head up against the door, looking through the bars into the corridor as the cold metal pressed against her forehead, she couldn't see anything at all.

But the sound of the gunfire didn't stop.

"What's going on?" Ilia asked as she crept up behind her.

"How should I know?" Gilda demanded in a hushed whisper. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, except that it seemed like a situation where a bit of discretion might be advised.

She listened. She could hear, or she thought that she could hear, assault rifles, the boxy Valish guns that the White Fang used in this kingdom; they were the loudest sound and the deepest, heavy staccato thumping. But she also thought that she could hear pistol fire and the slow-paced bellowing of shotguns.

Is someone attacking the police station?

"Maybe it's our comrades, come to rescue us," Ilia suggested.

"What comrades?" Gilda asked. "And we were only just caught today; what kind of rescue could be mounted that fast?"

"If not the White Fang, then who?" Ilia demanded. "Who would attack the VPD?"

The Atlesians? That didn't make any sense, but at the same time, they were the only suspects that Gilda could think of off the top of her head. Who else would want to? Who else would have the capacity? Who would do something like this? None of the suspects made any sense, but at the same time, someone was committing the crime.

The sound of gunfire was starting to slack off; Gilda could still hear the assault rifles, but she was hard pressed to hear pistol or shotgun fire still. Was that a sign that the cops were losing? The police did use assault rifles, on occasion, but if someone was attacking a police station, then she'd expect a lot more pistols and some shotguns to be used as cops fought back with their sidearms. On the other hand, she'd expect the attackers, whoever they might be, to be tooled up for the assault.

The door at the end of the corridor flew open, and a police officer, a diminutive woman with curly hair, burst through the doorway and started running down the corridor.

She had just reached level with their cell door when a burst of fire, pursuing her down the corridor, slammed into her back. The officer jerked forwards then fell, face down, next to the dead rat.

Blood began to pool out of her, creeping towards the barred door.

The door that Gilda and Ilia both started to back away from,

She couldn't see the door anymore, but Gilda could hear footsteps both hammering and squeaking on the corridor floor, several pairs of footsteps.

Four pairs of footsteps, in fact, to go with the four people — three men, one woman — who marched down the corridor, stepping into the blood around the dead cop, and looked in through the bars at Gilda and Ilia.

They were all soldiers, or at least they all looked like soldiers, wearing Valish green uniforms with blue berets and some sort of polished badge on them, and three white feathers set in the badge, rising out of it to come up above the top of the beret. Three of them had assault rifles, just the kind that Gilda had heard shooting, while one of the men had only a pistol held lightly in one hand.

The three with rifles all had sword bayonets thrust into their belts, the kind that could be used as a short sword or a knife even when it wasn't attached to the rifle.

The man with the pistol — the officer, or at least the guy in charge — looked at them with disgust. His lip curled in a sneer.

"You White Fang scum," he said. "Congratulations, you've just slaughtered your way through a police depot, killing many gallant officers, only to be put down like the animals you are by the valiant forces of the Valish Defence Force." He scoffed. "So maybe don't celebrate just yet."

"You're framing us?" Ilia asked. "Typical."

Gilda wasn't sure that there was anything typical about this. Valish soldiers killing Valish cops? Why? Just why? So that they could make themselves look good by killing the perpetrators? It was a long way to go for some good publicity, wasn't it?

Mind you, I'm not sure we've got room to talk.

She said, "Sure, genius, I'm sure everyone will believe that we shot our way through an entire police precinct without ever leaving our cell. Great plan; you've really thought this one through."

The man with the pistol rolled his eyes. "Open the door, corporal."

The corporal — the woman in the squad — bent down and pulled the dead cop's ID card off her belt. She swiped it through the pad beside the cell door, there was a blaring sound, and the door slid open with a mechanical clank.

The soldiers aimed their rifles at Gilda and Ilia.

"Out you come," said the man with the pistol. "I'd rather walk you to your execution than have my men drag your bodies across the floor."

Gilda walked forward. Time to see how stupid you are. "You know it won't look real unless you take these restraints off us."

"We can take them off your bodies," replied the man with the pistol. "Now move." He gestured down the corridor, the way that he and his men had come.

Not that stupid, then. Gilda thought as she stepped into the cell doorway. "At least take my wing restraints off," she begged. "That's the first thing I'd do if I got free, and these bindings really hurt." She looked at the man with the pistol imploringly. "Come on, if you're going to kill me, then don't let me die with restless wings." She paused. "You'll have a hard time arranging them if you wait until I'm cold."

The man with the pistol hesitated for a second. "Corporal, get them off."

"Yes, sir," the woman said, slinging her rifle across her shoulder.

The sword bayonet on her hip glistened, if only in Gilda's imagination. She kept her hands down, held in front of her in her restraints, and waited.

The corporal stepped in front of Gilda, between her and the two soldiers who had their rifles trained on her. She was smaller than Gilda, her head only coming up to about Gilda's chin or mouth. She started to unbutton Gilda's overalls down the front.

When she had gotten three buttons down, Gilda moved. She threw her head down and forward; the corporal was a little short for a headbutt, but Gilda just about managed it, slamming her forehead straight down and leaving herself with a nasty pain on the forehead, but a pain which didn't stop her hands from moving like a swooping hawk to grab the sword bayonet from the corporal's belt before the corporal staggered back into the other two soldiers.

The fire of his soldiers blocked by his own corporal, the man with the pistol raised his short and stubby weapon, but Gilda had already thrown herself forward, one foot in the dead cop's blood as she slammed bodily into the man with the pistol and drove the sword bayonet into his gut.

A gasp of pain escaped him. The pistol slipped from his trembling hand. Gilda grabbed it before it could hit the floor, fumbling with it for a second as the three Valish soldiers turned.

She aimed the pistol; it didn't even matter that her hands were bound.

Eight shots, best make them count.

She fired two shots, then another two, then two more, and each pair of shots nailed one of the Valish soldiers, blasting them backwards before they could fire their rifles. They fell back into the corridor or into the cell itself to lie at Ilia's feet.

"Nice work," Ilia said. "I wouldn't have expected you to be a good shot."

"I prefer swords, but I know my way around a gun," Gilda replied. "Now come here and stand with your legs spaced apart."

Getting Gilda's point, Ilia held out her restrained hands as she approached and spread her legs out on either side of the dead cop.

Gilda fired one of the remaining shots in the pistol straight down, shattering the middle of the restraint. Ilia pulled her hands apart, then swiftly tore open the useless bounds that remained around her wrists. Then she did the same for Gilda, smashing her restraints into fragments to clatter down on the floor at their feet.

"Thanks," Gilda said as she felt her aura return to her. She felt stronger at once, and only getting stronger still, strong enough to rip that barred door off its hinges, strong enough to punch straight through that wall, strong enough to fight her way through as many friends as these Valish soldiers had waiting outside this corridor.

Strong enough to fly all the way up to the Amity Arena with only her wings.

Once she freed her wings too.

Gilda finished what the corporal had done, unfastening the front of her overalls so fast she practically tore the buttons off, before tearing the bindings off her wings with her bare hands. Her clothes were torn apart as her wings broke through the fabric, beautiful tawny wings emerging into the light once again.

Gilda flapped them back and forth as she twisted her back. "That is so much better."

"Being yourself always feels better," Ilia said as she sidled around Gilda to kneel down at the side of the Valish leader, the man who had held the pistol.

He wasn't dead yet, though there was blood trickling down out of his mouth and a lot more blood staining his green jacket. His eyes — brown — were wide, darting this way and that as though he were looking for a way out.

"Why?" Ilia asked. "What's going on here, why did you attack this place?"

The man gasped, his chest rising and falling. "Vale…" he whispered, his voice hoarse and rattling. "Vale will rise…" His head slumped backwards, and his eyes rolled away, the light leaving them.

"'Vale will rise'?" Gilda repeated. "I didn't know it had fallen."

"Weren't they attacked by grimm not too long ago?"

"Yeah, but I could count the dead on the fingers of my hands; it wasn't a catastrophe," Gilda said. "Or rather, it was a catastrophe for us, because I'd need a lot of hands to count our dead, but for them? What do they have to be sore about, and how is shooting up a police station and blaming it on us going to help?"

"They're humans," replied Ilia. "They always think blaming faunus will help."

"You might actually be right; I can't think of a better explanation," Gilda muttered. She bent down and grabbed a rifle from one of the dead Valish soldiers. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

Ilia also picked up one of the Valish guns. "Let's go."

They crept to the end of the corridor, looking out the door through which the police officer and the soldiers had come in, the door that had swung half closed since. There was no one on the other side, no one alive at least, just another dead cop slumped against the wall, one hand reaching vainly for his pistol. Gilda led the way into the next corridor; there were cells on either side, and all the cells that weren't just empty were occupied by the dead. They were human prisoners — or at least, they didn't have any visible faunus traits that she could see — and they'd been gunned down in their cells like pigs in the slaughterhouse.

But some of the cells were empty, and the doors were open.

They kept on moving. There was another door at the end of the corridor, sturdy and sound-proofed looking and painted white, with a card reader on the wall beside it. Gilda, who had forgotten to pick up the ID from either dead police officer, was about to turn back for one of them, but Ilia held one up in her hand.

She scanned it, and there was a clunking sound as the door unlocked.

Gilda pushed the door open.

On the other side of the door, she could see into the foyer, with the chairs for visitors to wait on — or for people there less voluntarily to await processing — and the booking desk where Gilda and Ilia had had their details entered into the system. Hopefully, they could use that same system to find the location of their comrades.

Right now, though, Gilda's attention was more on the half-dozen or so faunus — with bull's horns or cloven hooves or cat's whiskers on their faces — who had been gathered together in the lobby. Around them lay the bodies of Valish police officers and a smaller number of Valish soldiers. The glass-panelled doors leading outside had bullet holes in them, suggesting that the Valish troops had come in through the front and started shooting up the place. The cops had fought back, at first, and then they had lost, and some of them had tried to run, like the unfortunate who had died outside their cell.

And now, they had rounded faunus out of the cells and were going to shoot them, claim they were all White Fang — and throw in a couple of actual White Fang members to sweeten the pot — and that they had arrived too late to save the cops, but in time to avenge them.

Gilda still couldn't work out what the endgame of all this was, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that the soldiers were moving the faunus — still wearing restraints — around the room, stepping around the bodies of fallen cops and soldiers, posing the faunus in this position or that, so that the whole tableaux would look right when it was finished.

Gilda tightened the rifle she'd taken into her shoulder.

"One," she said. "Two. Three!"

She and Ilia burst through the door, guns blazing. Two soldiers fell instantly.

"Get down!" Gilda yelled, hoping the faunus would recognise that they were on their side. She rushed forward, trusting her aura to protect her from any return fire as she selected a new target and squeezed the trigger.

Another Valish soldier fell, blown over the booking desk and disappearing on the other side.

Gilda charged the closest Valish soldier, not shooting him but braining him with the stock of her rifle, reversing her grip on it to hit him so hard his head snapped sideways and he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

The Valish were returning fire now, and trying to find cover too, but Gilda didn't bother with her own cover. She kept moving, firing as she moved, partly trusting in her movement to throw off their aim, partly wanting to keep their attention in case they decided to shoot the other faunus because they were easier targets. Ilia was moving too, leaping over the booking desk then over the other side to slam into a soldier and bear her to the ground, strangling her with one hand while firing with the other.

Gilda's bullets tore through a potted plant and into a soldier who had unwisely taken cover behind it. Gilda grabbed the plant by the stem with one hand and threw it, pot first, at a soldier lining up on Ilia; the pot shattered against the back of his head, and he staggered, gun dropping; Ilia shot him between the eyes.

A soldier who had half-retreated into one of the back offices fired at Gilda from the doorway; the impacts staggered Gilda; she could feel her aura dropping; she charged, firing wildly to force the Valish soldier to take cover as she bore down on them. She leapt, her wings unfurling for a moment as she dropped straight on her Valish opponent, hitting him across the face once, twice, three times until he stopped moving.

She grabbed his rifle for good measure, looking like a faunus Spruce Willis as she wielded an assault rifle in each hand, struggling to keep the things level as she battled the weight on one hand and the recoil in the other, rifles bouncing up and down as she sprayed fire across the room.

Yippee-ki-yay!

The remaining Valish tried to fall back; unfortunately, with Gilda stood in the closest doorway, they had to try and retreat right in front of her; Gilda didn't manage to hit all of them clean as they passed — some of them, she only winged — but they went down all the same, caught in the leg or the foot or the shoulder. She finished them off before they could shoot back.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound being the crash of Gilda's rifles hitting the ground as she dropped them.

"Yeah, that's right!" declared a short rabbit faunus with white ears growing out of the top of his short-cropped hair. He had been lying down prone on the ground, but now, he got to his feet. "I mean, I was just about to bust out a couple of moves and take care of all these fools when y'all burst in, but I thought I'd let you have this one. You're welcome."

Gilda couldn't keep the grin off her face as she walked towards him. "Is that right? I'm sorry to steal your thunder, buddy." She snapped his restraints, and she and Ilia proceeded to free all the other faunus who had been herded in here by the soldiers.

"Everyone, get out of here!" Ilia commanded. "Go home, change out of these prison overalls, do you what you need to do to avoid being captured; just go, now."

"And may the God of Animals watch over you," Gilda said. "And for those of you who actually did something to deserve to wind up here, why don't you think about second chances and why you have this one? Maybe God means for you to turn your life around from here on."

The faunus left, all running for the door, jumping over — or just outright stepping on — the dead as they stampeded for the exit. The door was thrown back so hard it slammed into the wall with a crunch. As they got outside, Gilda could hear them whooping for joy at their unexpected freedom.

"'Second chances'?" Ilia asked.

"I guarantee at least one of those people has done something to another faunus," Gilda said. "I don't disagree with letting them go — they might be killed if they stay here — but if one person in that bunch can be convinced not to rob his eighty-year-old neighbour for her jewellery, that's a good deed done in my book."

Ilia didn't respond to that except to say, "So you're religious? The God of Animals? A little … problematic, don't you think?"

"Maybe you can tell him that when you meet him in person; he might even listen," said Gilda. "I know a lot of people don't pay much attention to the old stories these days, but … I'd like to think there's someone looking out for us."

"They haven't done a very good job, if they are," Ilia replied.

"The God of Animals could only call the chosen to his island," Gilda said. "It was up to them to get on a boat and sail there." She looked around the room, at the dead soldiers, the dead cops, the bullet casings littering the floor. "Any theories on what's going on?"

A police radio crackled, and a voice emerged before Ilia could speak.

"This is Lieutenant Martinez of the Flying Squad!" the voice shouted. "There are officers under fire at Batterham Power Stations; we are under attack by grimm cultists. Requesting backup from any available units. Repeat: backup requested at Batterham Power Station, all available units. Can anyone hear me?"

"'Grimm cultists'?" Ilia repeated, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Do you think … could it be that these aren't real soldiers, they're grimm cultists in disguise?"

"I guess," Gilda admitted. "But would a grimm cultist say 'Vale will rise' as he was dying? Wouldn't he say…?" Gilda paused, because her knowledge of grimm worshippers was kind of hazy. "'Long live the grimm' or something? What do they talk about?"

Ilia shrugged. "Either way, it looks like the police have got their hands full. So much the better for us."

"Not necessarily," said Gilda. "If the police are getting attacked everywhere, then our guys could be in trouble. Toss me that keycard; I'll see if I can find out where they are from the computer. You go see if you can find our weapons."

Their weapons had been booked in with the pair of them, so they should be around here somewhere.

"Sure," Ilia said, tossing Gilda the keycard, then heading off into the back.

Gilda herself jumped over the desk and pushed the dead duty sergeant in their chair out of the way to get at the computer. She used the card to sign in.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, bending down to get on a better level with the screen. "Bookings, bookings, there must be a way to see who's been processed across the whole city." She typed into the keyboard. "No, I don't want emails; ah, here it is: Processing Database."

Her ears pricked up at the sound of gunfire from somewhere behind.

"Ilia?" Gilda called. "Are you okay back there?"

"I'm good," Ilia replied.

"Glad to hear it," Gilda called without turning round. She accessed the general processing database and was presented with a grey screen and a lot of blank fields: first name, surname, date of processing, location, nationality, everything that you could conceivably want to know about a prisoner.

Because she was looking for several prisoners, Gilda entered today's date as the date of processing and left the other fields blank.

She was confronted with sixty-three entries, which seemed like a lot, but it was a big city, she supposed. Luckily, all of the bookings had a photo attached — including Ilia, who was one of the first entries on account of her surname, and who was scowling at the camera with a look that would have eviscerated the photographer if only looks could kill. Gilda was a little tempted to scroll through to the end and find out what her photo looked like, but she stayed focussed. She had a job to do, after all.

And that job was to recognise the photos of her team, since they'd all been entered without names. Because they'd been unconscious at the time. Luckily, Woundwort had a very distinctive face, even with his eyes closed.

"I've found them!" Gilda shouted to Ilia.

Ilia emerged out of the back, with a black bundle held in both arms and Gilda's swords balanced on top of the bundle. She put both of them down on top of the desk. "I found our clothes, too," Ilia said. "I don't want to wear this any longer than I have to."

"You'll have to wear it for a little bit longer; we don't have time to change," Gilda declared. "They're being held under guard at Kingsland hospital, and we need to get there now — before any soldiers do."

Its name, after the manner of huntsmen naming their weapons, was Red Bow, because Martinez had tied a red ribbon into a bow around the barrel when she'd given the gun to Mike as an anniversary present. It was a large calibre hunting rifle, double-barrelled with a heavy wooden stock and enough stopping power to make a goliath think twice. Martinez had gotten it for her husband to take out to sea with him in case he ran into a Sea Feilong or the like. Besides, it had a wooden stock, and wood was … one of the early anniversary ones, right?

Since Mike wasn't at sea right now, Martinez had asked if she could borrow it, and he'd said yes.

As she unwrapped it now, with her pistol empty and bullets slamming into the side of the truck, Martinez was glad she had.

The bullets were each bigger than her thumb. She opened up the breech and inserted a single round into each barrel — if there was one thing that wasn't great about this, it was the rate of fire.

Still, needs must, and hopefully, it would give those grimm freaks outside a fright.

More rounds slammed into her truck, hitting it with enough force to rock it to one side, denting the side on which they hit.

Outside, Martinez could hear the fire of both the grimm cultists and the cops, although the fire of the cops was starting to slack off a little bit; Martinez guessed she wasn't the only one who had started to run low on ammo. Hopefully, it was a case of people being careful about their shots and not a case of everyone running out like her.

Not that she had any room to talk — way back when she was a rookie, her first sergeant had warned her she was too quick to empty her pistol — but if everyone just ran out, then they were going to be in big trouble.

She held Red Bow in one hand and the box of ammo — not a very big box for the size of the bullets; she'd need to be careful with this — in the other as she shuffled back towards the door out of the truck.

Mallard was crouched at the front of the truck; he was half-leaning around the front and using his sword to fire blasts of dust towards the grimm cultists.

He took cover and glanced at Martinez as she leapt down. "I don't suppose you've got another one of those, El-Tee?"

"Sorry," Martinez said. "You running low on dust?"

"I don't have an unlimited supply," Mallard said.

"Okay, switch places with me and save your dust," Martinez told him. "Let me and Red Bow take a turn." To the large gun, she said, "Okay, honey, let's see what you've got."

Mallard crept around her while Martinez edged towards the front of the truck. She held the rifle upright, so that the top of the barrel could be seen through the shattered windows if anyone was looking that way.

She glanced around the truck, letting enemy fire whistle past her face as she tried to work out where the bad guys were. It was hard to spot them in the dark, but a lot of muzzle flashes seemed to be coming from around the second truck that they'd come in on; like the cops, they were using their vehicle as cover.

Why can't they just charge at us screaming their crap about the end times and stuff like that? Why can't they be as nuts as 'cultist' makes them sound?

Still, while using their truck for cover may have been a smart move, it also gave her a nice, big target to aim at.

Martinez cocked the rifle, dropped down on one knee, and raised Red Bow to her shoulder.

A bullet hit her, but Martinez didn't let it throw her off. She took aim at the truck's engine block.

She fired.

Red Bow roared a deafening roar and kicked back so hard into her shoulder that it did more damage to Martinez's aura than the bullet just a second ago had done.

But that was nothing compared to what it did to the truck that she'd fired at. The whole truck was knocked sideways, tilting forty-five degrees on its axis, the engine half-exploded, throwing off fragments of metal from the front and sides of the vehicle even as flames began to billow out of it. There was a groaning sound as the truck, precariously balanced on two wheels, began to fall onto its side. Martinez could hear the grimm worshippers shouting in alarm as they ran to get out of the way.

Yeah, that's right; you better run, she thought as she aimed her second shot.

She tried to couch the rifle even more firmly into her shoulder this time.

She fired again.

The truck exploded, a plume of fire and smoking reaching into the night sky as grimm cultists howled in pain.

Martinez put down Red Bow and reached up to grab her pick-axe handle from the seat of the truck.

"Okay, let's go!" she shouted. "Everyone, come on!"

Martinez screamed wordlessly as she leapt out of cover and started running towards the truck, pick-axe handle brandished overhead. Now was the moment; they were shocked by the destruction, a lot of them sounded like they'd been hurt or taken out, now was the moment when their nerve would fail them; all they had to do was be aggressive enough, and they could bag the whole bunch — then find out why nobody had come to back them up.

She knew that Mallard, at least, would follow her, and she just had to trust that other cops would follow her as well as she ran around the smouldering wreckage of the truck and brained a grimm cultist with her axe-handle.

There were grimm worshippers on the ground, dead or wounded; the rest were struggling to get it together; they were panicked, vulnerable; they were—

They were getting shot.

Fire mowed them down, fire from the machine gun mounted on top of the Defence Force armoured car that was coming around the corner, followed by two trucks in Valish green. As the machine gun atop the armoured car swept left and right, soldiers leapt from out of the trucks, swarming around the car as they, too, opened fire.

The grimm cultists didn't stand a chance. Ambushed out in the open, taken by surprise, they barely got a couple of shots off before they went down in a hail of bullets.

Martinez stared. The military. The gods-damned military had saved the day.

Well, who'd have thought it, huh?

Some cops were cheering, whooping, yelling out their thanks. Everyone was leaving their cover, even those who hadn't joined Martinez's rush. They walked across the open space in front of the power plant towards the soldiers.

Martinez did the same; holding her pick-axe handle lightly in her left hand, she approached the Valish officer — a major, judging by the crown on his shoulder — and held out her right hand.

"It's Major, isn't it?" she asked. "I'm Lieutenant DJ Martinez, VPD Flying Squad. Let me tell you, there's a lot of people who are glad to see you guys right now."

The Valish major smiled tightly. He brought up his own hand.

There was a pistol in it.

Martinez was raising her pick-axe handle when he fired. The shot hit her in the stomach, the close range making Martinez bend despite her aura. He fired again and again, and his soldiers were firing too, firing on the cops who had emerged from cover to greet the soldiers as their rescuers.

And the major still had that tight smile on his face.

Martinez ignored the impacts, the increasing damage to her aura, to step forward and whack him across the face with her pick-axe handle. His whole body whirled around, spinning, slamming into the front of the armoured car.

Martinez turned. She started to run, she needed to get back to cover, she needed to get the word out, she needed to warn anyone who might be listening that—

Assault rifles boomed, their bullets tearing into her aura, knocking Martinez forwards—

Breaking her aura—

Tearing into Martinez.

Martinez screamed in pain as she was hit in the back. More than once, she'd swear that it was more than once, it hurt like it was more than once in some places.

Other places, it didn't hurt at all.

She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel them giving way to dump her flat, face-first, on the tarmac. She couldn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything. There was pain, there was so much pain, and then … then there was nothing at all.

Martinez could feel tears in her eyes as she tried to drag herself along with her hands; her hands were scraping at the tarmac, tearing themselves up. She had … had to keep moving.

Her boys. She could see her boys in front of her, she could see Tyler and Stuart, she could see them standing there. She could see Mike too, with his hands on their shoulders. He was a good father. He'd take good care of them.

But she didn't … didn't want him to have to. She wanted … she had to get home … had to get back to…

A shadow fell over her. A military boot stepped on her hand. Martinez cried out in pain as the bones cracked.

It was the major, the major with that damned tight smile; he was still smiling as he looked down at her.

Martinez looked up at him. "Why?" she asked.

The major didn't answer. He just aimed his pistol.

BANG!

Jolly Hill (New)

Jolly Hill

Sunset led the way out of the Councillor's residence. The street was quiet, and not just because all the soldiers were laid out unconscious in the middle of the road around their truck. In the rest of the street, there was no sign of anyone, no one stirred from the houses within, there weren't even any visible lights on, no sign that anyone—

Sunset caught sight of something: a twitch of a curtain across the road, a brief flash or chink of light that was gone as swiftly and as soon as it had appeared.

So people were watching, if only tentatively. The fear of General Blackthorn's martial law declaration, or perhaps just the fact that a truckload of soldiers had just pulled up or maybe even the fact that someone had just taken out all those soldiers was giving them sufficient pause to stay indoors and pretend they weren't here, even as their curiosity tempted them to briefly expose themselves.

Sunset wondered if they recognised her. She still had her helmet on, so her face was concealed, but her tail wasn't, and she was wearing the same outfit that she'd worn for the Vytal Tournament. Did they recognise her, and if so, what would they think about her attacking the Valish troops and spiriting off the First Councillor like this?

Ultimately they would think what they liked; Sunset couldn't change their minds, she could only help Councillor Emerald get this situation under control, and then … and then, it would be up to the First Councillor to convince the people that everything had turned out for the best.

Councillor Emerald stepped out into the street. "Is something wrong, Miss Shimmer?"

"No, Councillor," Sunset said softly. "I was just thinking about how you've got a harder job than I have. I've only got to keep you alive tonight; you've got to run this city tomorrow."

Councillor Emerald let out a bark of laughter. "If there is still a Vale to run tomorrow, and if it is a city free from military rule and safe from grimm, then I will gladly endure all the hardships." He paused. "Do you think the grimm will attack?"

"I think they already have, Councillor," Sunset replied. "But, aside from wishing I could be there with my friends, that worries me less than what's going on inside the walls. My friends, General Ironwood's forces, all my fellow…" She stopped, remembering that she was not a Beacon student anymore; that was why she was here. "All the students, they can handle grimm. Even a lot of grimm. It's the Siren that concerns me, the Siren and what she has done to your military."

"What…" Councillor Emerald began. "What can we expect from this … this creature? If you defeat her, will General Blackthorn and all the rest become themselves again?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "I would hope so, but I don't know. I've never fought one of these things before."

"I'd never even heard of them before," Councillor Emerald muttered. "At some point, you must tell me how you know of it."

"We'll see how that goes, Councillor," Sunset murmured, without committing to anything. She had told the Councillor as much as he had need and, perhaps, the right to know, but to tell him everything? She didn't dislike him, by any means, but they weren't that close. "Now, we should—"

"Dad?"

Councillor Emerald turned around. Sunset leaned sideways to look past him and see Bramble standing in the doorway, wearing yellow pyjamas with elephants on them that were just a little too small for his legs, riding up above his ankles.

A middle-aged woman stood over him, her hands on his shoulders.

"Bramble," Councillor Emerald said softly. He bent down as he approached his son. "What are you doing down here? You should be in bed." He looked up at the woman as he said that.

"I'm sorry, Mister Councillor," she said apologetically. "But—"

"I heard noises," Bramble said. "What's going on? Are you leaving?"

Councillor Emerald knelt down in front of him. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am. There's something that I have to take care of, for the good of Vale. But I shan't be long. If you go back to bed, then by the time you wake up, this will all be over, and everything will be fine."

"You promise?" Bramble asked.

"I promise," Councillor Emerald said. "I will see you in the morning."

Bramble smiled a little and looked over his father to spot Sunset standing behind him.

"Sunset?" he asked. "It is you, isn't it?"

Sunset smiled at him as she moved to stand beside the Councillor, following his lead in kneeling in front of the little boy. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it's me."

"Are you going to protect my Dad?" Bramble asked solemnly.

Sunset had promised Councillor Emerald that she would not put his life over the good of Vale. She could feel Ruby wagging her finger at her in her head, demonstrating with her about the evil consequences that a promise like this could lead to.

But the little boy in front of her was a reminder of why it was easier to put the people you knew over the people you didn't — even if he was also a reminder of why you shouldn't.

But am I really going to tell a kid that I’ll let his father die for the greater good if that’s what it takes?

No, no, she wasn’t. That wasn’t the kind of person Sunset Shimmer was. She wasn’t the kind of person who could tell a kid that.

Was she the kind of person who could…?

Well, hopefully, with good fortune — and all the skill and ingenuity that she could muster up — they wouldn’t have to find out.

She smiled at Bramble. “Sure I will,” she said. “Of course I will. I’m going to keep your dad perfectly safe. He’ll be back before you know it.” She paused, but couldn’t help but add, “He might even have a lot more time to spend with you in future.”

“Sunset and I need to be going,” Councillor Emerald declared. “And you need to get your sleep.” He looked for a second as though he were about to stand up, but instead, he reached out and pulled Bramble into an embrace.

“Tonight,” he said, “is nothing more than a bad dream. One that will fade away when you wake up, like something that never was.” He kissed the boy on the cheek and let him go. “Now, upstairs with you, and stay there.”

The Councillor himself stayed kneeling. Kneeling on the street in front of his door as the woman — some sort of housekeeper or nanny, presumably — started to chivvy Bramble upstairs, shutting the door behind them.

Only after a few seconds kneeling in front of the closed black door did the Councillor regain his feet, adjusting the fit of his jacket with both hands. He looked down at Sunset. “‘Sure I will,’ Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset remained kneeling on the ground, looking up at him. “What would you have had me say to him, Councillor?”

Councillor Emerald fastened his jacket. “You gave me your word, Miss Shimmer.”

“I will not let Vale down,” Sunset said. “Not tonight.” She gestured down the street. “My bike is this way.”

Councillor Emerald glanced at the soldiers. “Are they going to wake up?”

“Not until morning, I should think, at least,” Sunset said. “I didn’t hold back my power much. You needn’t worry about them waking up and breaking down the door again; by that time, all this will be over. Come, Councillor, if you will.”

Her bike was waiting where she had left it, haphazardly parked, or more accurately, stopped dead where she had dismounted to assault the Valish troops.

Councillor Emerald stopped once he got a good look at it.

He stared at it. He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets.

“It seems to me there is a good chance that we may die before I ever set eyes upon the Military Headquarters,” he observed.

Sunset rolled her eyes. I am sick and tired, absolutely sick and tired, of all the casual insults rained down upon my bike. Never has a poor vehicle been so undeservedly slandered.

"This bike," Sunset declared, "will get us where we need to go, Councillor, have no fear. You may depend upon it."

She did not say that he might depend upon it as he might depend upon her, because that might have been to the motorcycle’s detriment rather than its benefit.

"It is fast," she added, "and more manoeuvrable than any car we could drive — that you could drive, Councillor, for I only know how to ride. I know that she looks a little … eccentric, but she's got it where it counts." She paused. "Now, before we mount up, one more thing." She placed a hand on Councillor Emerald's shoulder and cast the reverse want-it need-it spell on him. Green lines spread out from all around him, rippling along the ground like cracks from a fault line, disappearing off into the distance.

Sunset took a deep breath as she stepped away.

Councillor Emerald shuddered. "That felt … like being doused in cold water seems the closest comparison. What—?"

"Just a little trick to keep you from notice," Sunset said. "And, in keeping you from notice, to keep you from harm also. At some point, I'll have to drop it so you can try and give some orders; otherwise, you would be shouting into the void with not an ear to hear you, but until then, well, people who don't know you're there won't shoot at you."

"But will they shoot at you, Miss Shimmer?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"Unfortunately, Councillor, if I were to do this trick on myself, you wouldn't know I was here," Sunset explained. "And that would be … awkward."

"Undoubtedly," muttered Councillor Emerald dryly. "Your semblance seems to be a plethora of diverse abilities, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, Councillor, it is a veritable box of delights," said Sunset. She got on her bike. "Climb aboard, Councillor."

Councillor Emerald climbed on behind her. "It's a good thing that faunus with horns or antlers are exempt from the laws on crash helmets," he said. "I should hate to set a bad example."

Sunset chuckled as she pushed the visor of her own helmet down over her face. She felt Councillor Emerald put his arms around her waist, although a little more loosely than was perhaps advisable.

"Hold on tighter, Councillor; there is no call for propriety here," Sunset shouted, so as to be heard through her helmet.

The First Councillor tightened his grip. Sunset could feel him pressing against her back, although that also meant he was pressed against Soteria and Sol Invictus, which probably wasn't all that comfortable for him.

It wouldn't be too long.

Sunset kick started her bike, making the engine growl like a tiger. She turned in the middle of the road to head back the way she'd come, back in the direction of the Valish Headquarters.

Where the Siren waited.

The Siren, and Cinder.

As she retraced her tracks along the empty roads, down the deserted streets, Sunset had a little time to think about what that meant. The need to rush off and rescue Councillor Emerald meant that she had been able to put off thinking about it until now, but now … now, with the roads so quiet, she had — unfortunately or otherwise — enough time and space in her head to think about it. About Cinder, enslaved by the Siren. Bound to her — but not so completely that she had given away Sunset's location.

Cinder, the real Cinder, Cinder in all her flaws and in her glories too, was still in there.

And yet, that Cinder was half-hidden beneath the Siren's will. Yes, Cinder had concealed Sunset, but there would come a time when Sunset could not be concealed, and then … would Cinder be able to refuse to fight Sunset? Could she resist the Siren's will to that extent?

And if she could not…

Sunset didn't want to fight Cinder. She didn't want to for a whole host of reasons, not least of which was the fact that she was not at all certain that she would win such a fight. It had taken the whole team to bring down Cinder last night, and while Pyrrha had beaten Cinder by herself, Cinder had been holding back her magic at the time; Sunset couldn't expect the same courtesy from an enthralled Cinder. And Cinder could deflect her magic; she'd done it last night, using convection currents to turn the bolts aside.

And even if Sunset managed to defeat her, if she managed to pull a splendid triumph out of the bag, then … what? Kill her? Cut Cinder down?

She didn't want to do that either. She … very much did not want to do that, for all that it would solve a host of problems. With Cinder's death, Amber would be the only Fall Maiden once again and a shadow lifted from her, Professor Ozpin's mind would be set at ease, and … Sunset might prove to Ruby that she was not wholly unworthy and without use.

Yet for all that, Sunset did not desire it. There was … there was too much between them to end in blood on a black sword.

Perhaps Sunset's best hope was that Cinder felt the same way.

If only she could make her realise or recall it.

Perhaps … perhaps…

Sunset was roused from pondering some future confrontation with Cinder, inevitable though it might seem and rapidly though that future was barrelling towards them, by the fact that they were not alone on the road.

They had been, to their good fortune. The streets were clear; the lanes were empty. Not too surprising, all things considered: with the grimm attacking the Amity Arena, fighting in the streets of Vale, the declaration of martial law, General Blackthorn threatening to shoot people caught breaking curfew, it was no mystery why people were keeping to their own homes. No doubt, they were keeping their doors locked, their ears open, and their hopes bent towards the return of sanity and peace.

As Councillor Emerald had told Bramble, tonight would seem like a bad dream — provided that he and Sunset succeeded.

In the meantime, Sunset's helmet was muffling the sounds of fighting going on elsewhere in the city, but not so much that all the sound of it was gone. She could still hear, though it seemed very far off indeed, and a good thing too. She meant to steer well clear of the hotshots of the fighting; just because Councillor Emeral couldn't be noticed didn't mean he couldn't be caught by a stray bullet.

And then, as Sunset rounded a corner down a street of terraced houses, their luck ran out, because the road was no longer empty to them.

It was occupied by a Valish military convoy: an armoured car, a sort of light tank on wheels — Sunset had a vague suspicion it was not actually a tank, but right now, she didn't care about the fine details so much as about the big gun on the turret — a couple of trucks at least, and motorcycle outriders on both flanks of the column. They were trundling down the road, moving at a deliberate and steady pace, and the turret of the tank, or whatever it was, was open. A man was sticking his upper body out of the turret, addressing the empty streets through a bullhorn.

"Do not be alarmed! By order of General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force, martial law is now in effect. Do not panic. Remain in your homes. A curfew is in effect. Anyone caught breaking curfew will be shot on sight. Do not be alarmed. We are here to protect you. Everything is under control."

Sunset's first instinct was to turn her bike around and head back the way they had come, round the corner, out of sight. Unfortunately, the Valish troops had already seen her. The machine gun mounted on top of the armoured car was turning her direction.

"Hold on!" Sunset shouted as she squeezed the accelerator hard, sending the bike leaping forwards, towards the Valish.

She took her hand briefly — very briefly — off one handle to shoot a burst of magic towards the machine gunner, hitting him square in the chest and dropping him out of sight into the recesses of the armoured car.

Sunset grabbed the handle again just as her bike started to wobble.

The bike drove in front of the armoured car, in front of one of the motorcycle outriders, and then she turned, tires screeching, vaulting up onto the roadside pavement as she flew down the column, past the tank and the trucks and the other armoured car at the back of the convoy, flying past them them all. She turned aside at the first opportunity; she was going so fast her bike nearly fell over, but it was worth it to get out of the Valish line of fire. She wasn't quite going the right way, but she could easily—

"Miss Shimmer!" Councillor Emerald shouted.

Sunset checked her mirrors. Two Valish motorcyclists — no, four — were following her, and one of the armoured cars.

This one also had a machine gun. And it was taking aim.

Sunset kept hold of one handle — the accelerator handle, on the right — and threw her left hand out behind her as best she could, reaching around Councillor Emerald as best she could, conjuring up a shield between them and that machine gun.

Sunset could feel the bullets thudding into it, the force of impact transmitting through the magic to jar her arm. She swerved wildly — no point just taking hits when you could at least try to avoid the bullets — leaning left, then right, zipping from one side of the road to the other as the tracer rounds slammed into the road around her.

She needed to turn again, she needed — or wanted, for sure — to get out of the line of fire, but there were no good options; this was a long, straight street of terraced houses, with a dry cleaners and a coffee shop on one side of the road, but neither of them offered much in the way of escape options. There was only the left turn toward which Sunset was racing and the hope that there would be more ways out once they made the turn.

Sunset squeezed on the accelerator as hard as it would go, feeling more rounds slam into her shield even as she tried to keep the gunner guessing as to where she was going to go next.

The fire slacked off. Sunset glanced down at her mirrors. The armoured car was still behind her but had ceased fire — for the moment, at least — as two of the motorcycles raced up on either side of her.

One drew level with her, past Sunset's shield covering her and the Councillor's back; their face — their whole head — was concealed beneath a helmet painted in camouflage greens and browns. They had one hand on the handlebars and one hand on the boxy pistol they aimed at Sunset.

Sunset swerved into them, narrowly avoiding an outright collision but getting close enough to grab their gun arm and pull it towards her. The Valish soldier, yanked in Sunset's direction, struggled to keep their tottering bike under control as it swayed on the road. They fired once, twice, three times with their pistol, the bullets flying past her face, and the muzzle flashes dimmed by her smoky visor. Sunset twisted the pistol out of their hand — it clattered to the road and was swiftly left behind — and then let go of his arm to grab him by the helmet instead.

They hit her, battering at her chest with their now-released hand, but Sunset ignored it as she slammed their head down into the handlebars of her bike.

Sorry to treat you like this, but needs must.

The Valish soldier flailed as she forced their head down, one arm waving, the other still trying to control their bike. Sunset bashed their helmet into the bars once, twice; they started to struggle a bit less; she did it a third time, and they lost control of the bike. Sunset let them go before he could take her with them, and they skidded out, motorcycle slipping away to slide frantically across the road, rider rolling after it in a tangle of arms and legs.

The other outrider was a little more cautious after that; they didn't draw level with Sunset — they didn't even try — they hung back and aimed their pistol from behind her.

Sunset flung her hand out in their direction as best she could, blasts of magic flying from her fingertips. Most of them missed, though the outrider had to swerve and sway on their bike to avoid them, but one bolt struck the wheel of their motorcycle, flipping bike and rider up into the air before dumping the outrider headfirst into the road with their bike on top of them.

The gunner on the armoured car started to fire again. Sunset leaned so far to the left that Councillor Emerald's antlers were practically scraping the road as the bullets flew overhead. She was almost at the turn now, and as she turned she raised her palm and fired two blasts of magic in quick succession at the pursuing car.

They glanced off the armour, flying up into the night sky without harming the vehicle or the gunner.

Sunset gritted her teeth, but at least she'd made the turn now, the turn that led to another long street, but this one had shops and plenty of turnings and a shopping centre!

Yes!

Sunset raced down the road, heading straight on, passing two opportunities, three, to turn off in a different direction.

"Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald said loudly, making his voice heard despite Sunset's helmet.

The remaining two motorcycles, faster than the armoured car, turned the corner in pursuit.

Sunset shot past another turning.

The armoured car turned the corner.

"Miss Shimmer?!" Councillor Emerald shouted.

Sunset turned hard, tires screeching as she raced towards the glass doors of the shopping centre. The name was still illuminated: Jolly Hill shopping centre.

She had just enough time to register a poster on one of the doors for some kind of wedding fair before she blew up door and poster alike with a bolt of magic, shattering the glass and sending it down in shards to cover the floor.

Sunset plunged through the hole, leaping over the little metal lip of the doors and bursting into the shopping centre; she immediately had to swerve to avoid the wedding dress mounted on a plinth right behind the doors.

There was no one around, but the lights were still on, the shutters hadn't closed over the stores, and in the sterile white lighting reflecting off the white floor, Sunset could see the common space was littered with wedding dresses on pedestals behind velvet ropes, some on their own and some in clusters, empty stalls offering fittings or photography, artisanal jewellers, cakes.

So that's what they meant by wedding fair, Sunset thought. She drove past a strapless, shoulderless wedding gown with a bodice and a ballgown skirt and thought it might look nice on Pyrrha.

Pity I don't have time to take pictures, Sunset thought as the Valish outriders destroyed two more of the glass doors to follow her inside.

Sunset grabbed a stallfull of wedding cakes with her telekinesis and threw them out in front of the leading biker; she mistimed, the cakes splattered all over the floor in front of them, and they simply drove through the resulting mess, icing and buttercream sticking to the grooves of their tires.

One was on the other side of the dresses and stands; the other was coming up behind her.

Sunset heard their pistol crack twice; she leaned forwards into the handlebars.

There was an old-fashioned carriage — as in horse and carriage — black, with red lines, sitting in the middle of the concourse, with a sign advertising traditional wedding transportation.

Perfect.

Sunset circled around the carriage, her hand glowed as she started to grip the antique vehicle.

The Valish outrider pursued.

Sunset shoved the carriage with her telekinesis, rolling it across the floor and into the Valish motorcyclist, bearing him into and through the window of the nearby budget clothes shop. He lay, unmoving, with all the broken mannequins in their Fall collection.

A bullet slammed into the side of Sunset's helmet. She was knocked sideways, her bike skidding and slipping on the shopping centre floor. She grabbed the handles with both hands as she fought for control, leaning back to the right to right herself, pulling the bike level. She heard another bang — from a gun larger than a pistol — though she didn't feel an impact.

"Councillor, tell me that didn't hit you!" she shouted.

"I don't believe it did," replied Councillor Emerald.

Sunset turned her head to the right. The last motorcyclist had stopped their bike and unslung a lever rifle from across their back. As Sunset watched, they worked the lever again.

The armoured car crashed through the doors, shattering the remaining glass and the metal and everything else that got in their way, ignoring the debris that landed on the hood of the vehicle as they ploughed on. Wedding dresses, velvet ropes, stalls and stands and signs, all fell before them as they drove into the shopping centre with all the inexorable force of a great wave, sweeping inland no matter what buildings might stand along the shore.

Sunset drove — dove, one might say — into the Valish Home Stores whose open doors gaped open to receive her. The Valish motorcyclist fired at her again as she drove in front of them but missed, and Sunset was through an entrance crowded with Vytal-themed homeware. The faces of Team SAPR smiled up at her from a stack of lampshades as she drove by.

Another shot flew over Sunset's — and Councillor Emerald's — head, shattering a plate on display.

Sunset grabbed everything in reach with her telekinesis: display tables and chairs laid out for nonexistent dinners, sofas, lamps, cushions, and rugs, she grabbed them all in as great magical handfuls as she could and dragged or threw them all past and behind her towards the doors, hoping to hit her pursuer.

She didn't hear anything — and that included any more shots from that rifle as she drove down an aisle filled with mugs on either side.

She reached the bottom of the aisle and turned as she heard the armoured car begin to crash through the debris she'd piled up around the entrance.

Fortunately, big stores like this always had more than way in or out.

At least, she hoped they did.

This one did, thank goodness, another door at a right angle to the one that she'd come in through, past a wall covered with kitchen utensils. Sunset might have tried throwing those around too, but she doubted they'd do much good against an armoured car.

She was more interested in the escalator to the second floor position right in front of the exit.

She raced towards it, hearing the armoured car continue to crash through everything in its wake. Aisles fell, crockery and glassware shattered, but the machine gun didn't fire, not yet. They must not have had a clear shot.

Sunset burst out of the store, her bike speeding towards the inert escalator. The ridged metal steps looked like they had teeth, waiting to tear into her tires.

Sunset teleported, a crack and a burst of green light bearing her, her passenger, and her bike up to the top of the escalator where they reappeared, a foot up in the air over the top step.

They landed, skidding along the ground as Sunset broke and turned, slamming her foot into the floor to bring the bike to a stop before it bore them all into the window of a jewellers.

Charm bracelets and necklaces glistened as Sunset dismounted her motorcycle.

"Stay here, Councillor," she said. She took a couple of steps away from the bike, towards the escalator and the brass rail with the transparent plastic underneath that separated the edge of the first floor from the drop down to the ground.

She didn't approach all the way, not yet. She held out her arms and conjured four — then two more to be on the safe side — six spears of magic hovering above her, poised to descend.

She wasn't sure how many people were in the armoured car, exactly, but she didn't think it could be more than six.

She heard, but didn't see, the armoured car crash through the exit from Valish Home Stores; it sounded like it was a bit of a squeeze for it: she heard the screech of scraping metal for a moment before she only heard the soft sound of an engine idling.

Sunset took another step forward. She didn't want them to see her too early. She wanted them to get out of their armoured car and follow her up the escalator.

She couldn't hear any doors opening or closing, but that might just be because her helmet was muffling the sounds.

She did hear footsteps thudding up the escalator. Sunset dashed forward to see four men with rifles jogging up the still metal steps. A fifth man still manned the machine gun, covering them.

Sunset unleashed all of her magical spears, the emerald bolts descending on her targets, two for the man on the gun. He opened fire; Sunset threw herself to one side as the bullets soared through the air. She heard cries of alarm briefly interrupted.

Then nothing.

Sunset looked up. She scrambled up onto her hands and knees at least. The machine gunner was out of it, slumped across his now-silent machine gun. The other Valish soldiers were all down too, sprawled across one another halfway up the escalator.

There was no sign of the motorcycle outrider. Sunset could only conclude that she'd gotten them with all of those domestic goods she'd thrown around earlier.

There was no sound of any other pursuit.

Sunset pushed her visor up. "I think we're good," she said. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm fine," Councillor Emerald assured her. "I…" He paused for a second. "They ran into us completely by accident, not hunting for either of us, hardly able to recognise you; they bumped into us by random chance and decided to start shooting. To chase you through Vale and kill you."

"We are breaking curfew, Councillor," Sunset said.

"Please don't be glib, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"Sorry, Councillor."

"These … these are Valish men and women," Councillor Emerald declared. "Not robots, not mindless automatons, men and women of Vale, whose homes are here in Vale, and yet … I could understand them coming to get me; if Blackthorn honestly thought he could do a better job running this city, if his soldiers thought so, then why not take me into custody, by force if necessary? But this? To shoot their fellow Valish for being out on the street? How could they do such a thing? How does it not revolt their spirits?"

"They may not be mindless automatons in ordinary circumstances," Sunset said softly. "But I fear that is what the Siren has made of them."

Councillor Emerald hesitated. "I must admit I wasn't entirely sure whether to believe you about that," he said. "It seemed a very fanciful, fantastical idea; I could conceive that General Blackthorn had been hiding his ambition and his hatred of me secretly all this time; it would have been as plausible. But now … I think you must be right."

"I am, Councillor, and you should be glad of that," Sunset told him. "Magical creatures are a lot easier to deal with than the human heart. If the military really had decided they wanted rid of you, you might need a little more help than me."

Councillor Emerald seemed for a moment as if he might smile but did not. "As you say, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset didn't want to leave the way that they'd come — just in case any of the Valish soldiers had called for backup or the rest of their convoy came sniffing around — so she took her bike by the handlebars and walked it towards a set of directions stuck to one of the columns stretching up towards the ceiling.

The arrow for 'Exit to Car Park' pointed up and in the opposite direction to their entrance, complete with a number 3 next to it.

Sunset took off her helmet for a second as the two of them walked her bike to the nearest elevator, a glass box that let them see out of it onto the shopping centre around them as they rode it up to the third floor. Not that Sunset was doing much watching. Instead, her thoughts had returned to the battle that would come once they finally reached the headquarters.

The battle with Cinder.

Her fingers tapped on the handlebars of her bike.

"Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald murmured. "Is everything alright?"

Sunset wished that she'd kept her helmet on; then, he wouldn't have been able to see her face so clearly. "I'm fine, Councillor," she replied, because how could she tell him that she was worried that she couldn't win the fight against Cinder at the place she was leading him to? He was relying on her to keep him safe; his son was relying on her to keep his father safe. She had promised that she would.

So I can't lose, Cinder, not even to you. I have to beat you, or a little boy will cry.

I have to beat you, and then…

Yes. And then, and then, and then. If Sunset won the fight, as she really had to win the fight, then her problems were not at an end.

I really wish you hadn't come to Beacon, then I could cut you down with a clear conscience.

Except that wasn't really true, was it?

Getting ahead of myself; I need to beat her first.

She can deflect my magical blasts, but not telekinesis; I'll keep her at a distance and attack her from all sides. I'll do what I did to Bolin.

Of course, she's a lot more capable than Bolin.

I'll grab whatever I can in the actual headquarters and throw it at her.

Will that be enough?

It had better be; I can't hit her with a magical attack — maybe I can, but only if I'm lucky — and she's better with the sword than I am.

But she's not invulnerable. She's been beaten twice already, once in a one-on-one. I just have to make sure that I stay out of the way of her sword and her magic. I can shield myself, she can't, so I can protect myself in ways that she cannot. I can protect myself and then hit back.

Shield, then riposte. Shield, then riposte all the way to victory.

Victory, and…

Sunset looked down at her hands, her hands which were currently still enclosed within the white bridal gloves.

Perhaps…

She was grateful when the elevator carried them to their destination and the glass doors opened to let them out.

They stepped out opposite a toy shop, Fun-'n'-Games, with its window full of Vytal Festival merchandise — along with a big sticker in the window stating that it was all discounted.

They could have waited until tomorrow to do that.

"We can go through here, come out on the other side and be closer to the car park," Councillor Emerald said, pointing into the toyshop.

Sunset looked at him. "You've been here, Councillor?"

"Do you think that Councillors don't go shopping, Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald asked as he led the way.

"I thought you might have people to do that for you, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "The woman left with Bramble, maybe."

"Mrs. Hughes is very useful," Councillor Emerald agreed. "But there are some things that I prefer to pick up myself. I was here just a couple of days ago, getting Bramble a, um," — he scratched his elbow — "an Amity Colosseum playset, and some additional figures to play with in it."

Sunset glanced at the window as she and the Councillor walked in. There were several different Amity Arenas there, some of which dispensed with the stands and the like and were just battlefields with the biomes, others of which presented a more complete recreation, right down to the externals. One of them was even floating.

"Which one, if I may ask?"

"The expensive one, that can use real gravity dust to float and has the biomes coming up out of the floor," Councillor Emerald replied.

Sunset wasn't altogether sure why you'd want an Amity Arena that really flew, at least not if you were Bramble's size and it would just float above your head where you couldn't get it or see anything that was going on within, but that wasn't something you said to a father who was trying his best. He'd probably just bought the most expensive one because he thought it was also the best or the coolest. "I'm sure he'll … so there are some figures who come with it?"

"A couple of Shade teams I'd never heard of," Councillor Emerald said. "I brought some of the … they called them blister packs, of teams that he would like better."

Sunset guessed from the way that he was playing ever so slightly coy that he had gotten Bramble Team SAPR but he didn't want to admit it in case he stroked her ego. Well, it was satisfying to know, to think, or to imagine that he had.

"Did he like it?" she asked instead.

"He hasn't got it yet," Councillor Emerald told her. "I was going to give it to him tonight, before…"

"You can give it to him tomorrow," Sunset said. "I'm sure he'll love it."

"I hope so, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said softly.

The toy shop almost seemed to have become a Vytal Tournament shop as Sunset and Councillor Emerald walked through it. Sunset spotted the blister packs that Councillor Emerald had referred to; the figures in question were quite small scale, moulded plastic in rigid poses: guns aimed or blades drawn back. There were other, larger figures that offered more movement in the arms and legs, as well as toy weapons, posters, board games. As she walked her bike through the displays, and as the eyes of the larger individual action figures in their transparent plastic packaging seemed to follow her down the aisle, Sunset's ears drooped, and her tail fell down to hang limply between her legs.

They all looked so happy. On the posters, on the lampshades in the home store, on the boxes for the toy weapons, on each and every single action figure — or doll, if you preferred — with a rigid smile painted on its face that somehow managed to reach the eyes all the same by some magic better known to artists than to unicorns. They all looked so happy. Even she, even Sunset Shimmer in a plastic bubble, with a plastic sword and a gun that didn't shoot and see-through plastic flames that could be stuck on her shoulders, even she looked happy.

Everyone was smiling.

And why not? This was their Vytal Tournament, their time, their chance to strut the stage. This was their happy time, and it had been taken away. Their happiness had been stolen. Sunset's happiness, it could be said, she had thrown away herself by her mistakes, but everyone else? Everyone else was the victim of a theft, as all of Vale was, a theft that had replaced the joy and celebration that should have been with chaos, madness, and the fear of death.

Sunset looked up and down the aisle of dolls, watching them as they seemed to watch her. Pyrrha, with a sash made of cloth; Jaune, who for some reason had been given short hair and a square jaw that made him look like Cardin, even though the picture of him at the bottom of the packaging was more or less accurate; Trixie, with a nylon hat and cape with reflective stars; Rainbow Dash, whose figure came with foldable wings; Penny, whose swords didn't connect to her body at all; they all smiled out at her from behind the plastic.

But now … Sunset couldn't help but wonder how many of them would be smiling come the morning, if they might not…

She quickened her pace, pushing the bike along faster. If this was the shortcut, then she wished that they had taken the longer route. She didn't want to stay here any longer. This plethora of merchandise … it mocked her, it wounded her, it callously reminded her of all that she had lost and of all that was precious and was now placed in jeopardy.

She was very happy when they were out of the toy store and making their way across the remainder of the shopping centre.

They reached an automatic door, which was locked but which was almost made of glass, meaning that Sunset could teleport herself, the bike, and Councillor Emerald onto the other side, onto an open-topped bridge between the shopping centre and a multi-story car park.

They walked across, Sunset turning her eyes towards the sky as she watched for any Valish airships that might be patrolling the air as their troops were patrolling the ground.

She saw none. No Bullheads bore down on them with guns blazing or deposited more troops — or worse, huntsmen, for why shouldn't any huntsmen in Vale have paid heed to the Siren's song? — to challenge and obstruct her. There was no sign of any Valish air presence, even at a distance.

Sunset pulled her helmet back on; the cool night breeze upon her face as they crossed the bridge had been welcome, but it was time to enclose herself within the vision-obstructing stuffiness of her helmet once again.

She could feel her ears, all four of them, starting to heat up almost immediately.

They entered the car park. It was empty, as far as Sunset could see in the darkness; she couldn't see a single car parked here, unless it was lurking in the very shadowy recesses out of her sight. They passed the ticket machines, sitting idle, their screens dim. Sunset turned her head towards the ramp heading upwards.

"Let's go that way, quickly," she said. "Let's see what we can see from a vantage point."

Apart from anything else, having turned aside with the Valish in pursuit, she wanted to check the route to the Valish headquarters.

Councillor Emerald did not object, and so, they walked Sunset's bike up to the top level of the carparker, higher than the upper level of the shopping centre next door, and all the way to the edge where they could look out on Vale.

It did not look like a dying city; that might seem like a low bar, but considering everything that was going on, the fact that they could stand there looking out and not see flames consuming whole districts or great explosions leaping up from every corner in immense fireballs, that seemed like, if not a victory, then something worth celebrating.

She could hear fighting going on, and the fact that whole areas of Vale were dark, the power cut off, was definitely less than ideal, but that could be fixed. Power could be restored. The fighting could end. The situation was far from unsalvageable.

For those who were left.

The sounds of the fighting, the sounds of the shooting, the blacked-out areas were reminders, in case anyone had forgotten, that not everyone would see the morn.

And while there were no immense explosions, there were some smaller ones, little flashes lighting up the night, tiny flowers of yellow blooming for a second and then vanishing again. Sunset wasn't sure what they were; artillery fire, maybe, or small missiles. It seemed too small to be airships crashing, even if there were any airships in the air to crash, which there were not. The skies were clear almost everywhere. When Sunset looked towards Beacon, or further south from there towards the outskirts of Vale, then she could see General Ironwood's Atlesian warships, but over Vale itself?

The large explosion that Sunset had been glad not to see erupted, a great ball of fire erupting into the darkness, rising towards the moon. It had come from the skydock. Had one of the great skyliners exploded? Because of who? What was going on down there?

The same thing going on all across Vale, as likely as not.

Looking away from the explosion and down from the empty sky, Sunset could see some more Valish patrols moving nearby, convoys about the same size as the one that they had run into a little while ago. One of them, which looked a little smaller, might even be the same convoy. They were not, thankfully, converging on Sunset's position, but rather, continuing to move slowly down the streets, no doubt doing as that first column had done and reminding people to stay indoors if they valued their lives.

And they were moving in such a way that Sunset could plot a course through them without running into anymore of them by accident or design.

It was important not to lose hope, not to let the small explosions, or even the big explosion on the skydock, get Sunset's spirits down too low. This wasn't … this wasn't like the description of the sack of Mistral, with the gods marshalling enemy forces everywhere to burn the city down, with desperation and death everywhere one turned one’s eyes, with people being led off in chains to slavery; Vale was far from beyond salvation, provided that they could get to the Military Headquarters and set things right.

Sunset's eyes turned to said headquarters, the tall towers plainly visible.

Plainly visible, too, was the immense battleship, one of the two Mistralian battleships purchased by Vale, floating above the towers, hovering protectively over the headquarters.

"Is that going to cause you any trouble, Miss Shimmer?"

"I … think not, Councillor," Sunset murmured. "I mean, I daresay it would hurt a great deal if one of those big guns were to hit me, but I think that I'm a little too quick for them to take aim, especially on my bike."

Although, of course, there was the issue of the troops that she'd seen outside the headquarters, barricading the roads around it: the troops and tanks and roadblocks. If they could slow her down long enough…

They wouldn't fire those big guns downwards with their own troops so close, would they? It would be mad!

This whole thing is a little mad, isn't it, and the strings are pulled by a Siren; why should she care how many Valish soldiers die?

But can their guns even lower that far?

"I think," Sunset went on, "that that ship is there to deter airships rather than us; it's there in case General Ironwood decides to launch an air attack upon the headquarters."

"And will they?" Councillor Emerald asked. "Launch an aerial assault, I mean?"

"I hope not, because if they destroy that battleship, then the falling debris will crush the headquarters, and we'll never get in," Sunset muttered. "But you'd be better off asking my friend Rainbow Dash, or Twilight, or Blake; I don't know General Ironwood well enough to predict his intentions."

"So we must hope that General Ironwood shows some restraint?" asked Councillor Emerald. "I suppose he has been quite restrained so far, in spite of many provocations, some of them by me or Novo. Now, it seems, we will see how restrained he is when he is off the leash, as it were."

"My friends, at least, think very highly of him," Sunset said. "And so does Professor Ozpin. While I don't pretend to know his mind, I have faith in their good judgement, and out of that faith, I'm sure that, tonight, General Ironwood will prove himself worthy of that same good judgement."

Author's Note

The most common piece of useless writing advice is 'write what you know' which is often put in such a way as to suggest that you should write about boring people like you. In writing this story I've come to believe that it actually means, for example, 'set the chase scene inside a shopping centre near you, using shops that you know, while there's a wedding fair on like there used to be across the road from where you worked'.

I used to like that wedding fair, I'd wander across in my lunch break to look at the dresses. None of them have made their way into this story, but variations have appeared in some of my other work. To my recollection there was a never a horseless carriage on display, but there was an old, vintage looking car for hire outside of Primark, which was close enough to inspire that moment in the story.

Boarding Action (New)

Boarding Action

"God's grace, look at that," muttered Fitzjames.

Ironwood frowned slightly as he looked at the image on the viewscreen. The image of one of Vale's two Mistralian-made battleships — the one that Polemarch Yeoh had not intrigued to keep out of Valish hands — hovering directly over the Valish Military Headquarters; the warship was centred directly over the building's courtyard, though it was so large that it protruded out past it on either side to loom over the streets below. Its great guns in their dorsal and ventral turrets were turned outwards on either side, joining the bristling array of broadside-mounted cannons.

It looked a formidable sight, a floating fortress protecting the heart of the Valish military.
Looks could be deceptive, but…

This wasn't something we planned on. The plan — Schnee and Ebi's plan — to storm the headquarters had relied on the fact that the only obstacles to an aerial insertion were the anti-aircraft guns mounted on the towers. Those now seemed an almost quaint concern given the preponderance of firepower just above them.

Which wasn't to say that the Zhenyuan was invulnerable; far from it: it was slow, slower to manoeuvre, and the sheer size of its engine block combined with the placement of its guns meant that its rear was almost a blind spot. His ships might be smaller and less heavily armoured, but he'd still bet on any one of his cruisers in a one-on-one fight. The problem wasn't the ability to defeat the Zhenyuan; it was what would happen afterwards as the immense stricken battleship plunged down onto the headquarters underneath. At best, it would crush the building beneath its bulk, burying the Valish high command under tons of rubble and debris — and while that might seem like a job well done, there would then be no one to order the Valish forces to stand down, not to mention the possibility that there was another way out that the Atlesians weren't aware of — where Ironwood's strike force couldn't get to them. At worst, the ship would explode, either on the ground or in the air, and shower debris not just down on the headquarters beneath but on the city all around it, causing untold levels of devastation. Whole city blocks would be affected, if not destroyed completely.

And it wouldn't get them any closer to their goal of stopping the Valish madness.

All of which meant that a fight with the Zhenyuan was out. The Valish had parked their bus in front of the touchdown line, and there was little the Atlesians could do about it.

"Sir," des Voeux said. "Major Schnee on the line, requesting to speak with you."

"Put her through," Ironwood said. "Schnee."

"Sir, Captain Ebi is patched through from his airship," Schnee said. "We've got bad news."

"I think I'm looking at the bad news now, Major," Ironwood replied. "The Zhenyuan?"

"Yes, sir," Schnee replied.

"I'm afraid a naval engagement is out of the question," Ironwood said. "If we destroyed the ship, we'd also destroy the aboveground portion of the Valish Headquarters and lose access to the targets."

"Understood, sir," Schnee said, her tone of voice impeccable, professional, and utterly inscrutable.

"Ebi, do you think you can evade their fire and land as planned?" Ironwood asked.

"I lead a charmed life, sir, but running a gauntlet of that much firepower might be pushing even my luck," Ebi said. "And I wouldn't give much for Elm and Vine's chances in the other airship. Or Major Schnee, for that matter. Can we not convert the airstrike to take out their guns, the way we intended to take out the tower defences?"

"That's a lot of guns to take out," Schnee observed.

"And if you take out enough of them, then the ship might go down," Ironwood muttered. "Which is the one thing that we don't want." He paused. They couldn't destroy the Zhenyuan, they couldn't proceed with it still there…

Therefore, whatever remains, however difficult, is our course.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Get Defender Lead on this line."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said.

Defender Wing was the grouping of First Squadron's three Skybolt bomber squadrons: Guardian, Champion, and Warden. Guardian and Champion had been deployed just past Beacon, with Warden held back for now to support Schnee's assault on the Valish headquarters. Major Salm was the wing commander, and Ironwood thought it best to go through him on this rather than going straight to the commander of Warden Squadron.

It took less than five seconds for Salm's gruff voice to shoot into the Valiant's bridge. "Sir. That bombing run is going to be a little more difficult than anticipated."

"The plan has changed, Salm," Ironwood informed him. "Warden Squadron will make a limited attack on the Valish battleship, opening up a breach in the hull, if possible close to the bow and above the centreline. Once a breach has been created, Schnee, your team will board the Zhenyuan, take the bridge, and compel the crew to steer the vessel away from the headquarters, at which point, Warden Squadron will take out the anti-aircraft guns, and Ebi, your unit will assault as planned. You'll have to do without the diversionary attack from outside the building."

"Understood, sir," Ebi said.

"If there's a pilot left in Warden Squadron, sir, it'll get done," said Salm, indicating that he wasn't sure that there would be once they were through with the battleship. Ironwood couldn't blame his hesitation on that front; it was a rough job he'd assigned to them, but it had to be done, and Ironwood didn't want to risk the excess damage that might be caused by tasking a cruiser.

"What if the Valish crew won't be compelled, sir?" asked Schnee.

"Then you'll have to learn how to fly a battleship quickly, Schnee," Ironwood said.

"Yes, sir," Schnee said, her voice continuing to display a near-complete lack of emotion. "Regardless of whether we can use the Valish crew or not, where do you want the ship steered to?"

"Out to sea," Ironwood said. "I'm afraid you may have to hold the bridge against an angry crew if Ebi can't compel the Valish surrender in time; if you think that you're about to lose the ship, cut the engines and ditch it in the water. Any other questions?"

A chorus of negatives rose from Schnee, Ebi, and Salm.

"Then get it done," Ironwood replied. "Good luck, all of you. Ironwood out."

"Capturing a battleship, huh?" said Harriet Bree, her voice coming in over the comm from Clover's airship. "You'll be a real hero if you pull this one off, ma'am."

Winter snorted. "You're the one who's going to capture the Valish command staff and nip a new war in the bud."

"Yeah, but who cares about that?" asked Harriet. "Nobody remembers people who capture command posts, or even generals. They remember the general got captured, but not by who. But capturing a ship that size? With a handful of men? Now, that'll live forever."

"That'll do, Harriet," Clover said, affably but firmly all the same. "You think you can pull it off, ma'am?"

To hear Clover calling her ma'am felt strange, and not just because they were of the same actual rank — Winter's brevet had yet to turn into anything more substantial — but also because, of the two of them, Winter had expected him to make major first. Yes, she was in the privileged position of being close to General Ironwood, but Clover was the leader of the elite strike team, Clover was the man who could stand next to an exploding bomb and not get singed, Clover was the Vytal champion, Clover was the second coming of General Colton.

Clover was the man who made you feel inferior just by being in his presence.

So yes, it was very strange to hear him call her 'ma'am.' Now, she just had to prove herself worthy of it.

Worthy of her rank … and of her tarnished name.

Schnee pride did not sit so easily upon Winter as it did on Weiss. The august dignity of their family name was a bolero which suited her younger sister well, while on Winter's shoulders, it sat somewhat uneasily. Part of that was the mere fact of her being a soldier in the Atlesian military, a fact which was sufficient to render her an outcast as far as her father was concerned. Her decision to attend Atlas had prompted a blazing row between her and her father which had ended with Winter leaving home with a single suitcase and tears streaming down on her face; she'd stayed at a hotel, and then, after her father cut her off, General Ironwood had been good enough to let her start her stay at the academy early.

She still had the Schnee name, but having been stripped of the Schnee money, had the Schnee inheritance taken away from her and being denied any sort of backing from the Schnee patriarch, she had not had the opportunity or the will to conduct herself as 'a Schnee,' a superior being separate from the common run of mortal men. Those few toadies who had thought to cosy up to her on the basis of her name — 'Please, take my seat, Miss Schnee.' 'May I help you with anything, Miss Schnee?' — had soon learned there was no profit in it and left her alone, for which Winter was very thankful. She was a Schnee in name only.

Yet it was still her name. Her name, passed down to her from her illustrious grandfather, who might not have approved of her being a soldier — Mother had said that he would not, had claimed that Nicholas had seen too well what too much soldiering had done to his own father to wish it on his descendants, before she stalked out of the room to drown her sorrows — but would surely have respected that it was her decision to make for herself, not her father's. Her grandfather who, at the very least, would, she hoped, have respected her wish to do something for Atlas.

It was still her name, and her name was … not what it had once been.

The scandal had not touched Winter as it might have; one of the advantages of the fact that nobody really considered you a real Schnee was that the mud currently staining the Schnee name did not stick to her as it did to her father or, unfortunately, to Weiss. Nobody whispered about her in the mess, nobody accused her of collusion or complicity, she was … she was not a Schnee; she was an officer who just happened to be called Schnee as though it were a wholly unremarkable name, and to hold her to account for the actions of the Schnee family would seem as absurd as branding everyone with the same name as a serial killer as accomplices in the crime.

That advantage might mean that she could not restore the Schnee name for the same reason that its fall could not damage her: nobody would make the connection. Perhaps Harriet was right, and Winter would be acclaimed for her action tonight in taking the battleship, and none of it would resound to the credit of the Schnee name because the Schnee name did not belong to her in any part; she was not connected with it in the public mind. Perhaps Weiss, alone, could restore the Schnee name to its former glory, because Weiss was the only one capable of such who was still considered a Schnee. Perhaps what Winter did tonight would burnish up only her own personal glory and the glory of the Atlesian military.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps, after tonight, people might remember that she was not just named Schnee but a Schnee and think a little better of the name in consequence.

It was not something that Winter gave much thought to, as a rule, it was not one of her dearly cherished ambitions, but with her grandfather's name having sunk as it had, if she could lift it, then … perhaps it would make the old man smile, the way he used to smile when she was young.

And if not, at least she could tell herself that she'd done something important.

"If I don't do this," she said, "then we don't stop the Valish, and a war breaks out. So, yes, I'll get it done. Failure isn't an option. Major Salm, once your Skybolts have opened up a breach in the hull, I'll move in. I'll try and signal you once we've taken the Zhenyuan, but communications might not be possible; start your run on the towers once you see the ship begin to move away. Then Captain Ebi and his team can start their attack."

"Understood, Major Schnee," Salm replied. "Preparing to attack now."

The Atlesian AB-10 Skybolt was a simple design; Thunderlane had always thought that if you were to give a kid a pile of junk and ask them to build you an airship, then you would get something a lot like a Skybolt: a cardboard tube or plastic bottle for the body, straight, flat wings made of card or plastic or anything flat or rectangular, and two more cardboard tubes on either side of the fuselage — stuck on the wings, with the wings projecting out past them, but a kid would probably stick them underneath the wings because it was easier — for the engines. A kid might even draw snarling fangs or razor tusks — or fangs and tusks — on the nose, the way that Skybolts had them painted on. It was the kind of airship that his own little brother, Rumble, would have come up with. Legend had it that was how the Skybolt had been designed, by the young son of a harassed naval architect. Thunderlane didn't know if it was true or not, but he'd like to believe it.

About the only thing about the Skybolt that a kid wouldn't have come up with — and they would have come up with the massive gun slung underneath the nose, for sure, and the missiles underneath the wings — was the fact that the Skybolt was a two-seater. In this particular airship — Warden Seven — Thunderlane was the pilot, sitting up front, facing forwards, while Cloudchaser was his gunner, sitting in a turret just behind the cockpit, manning the twin twenty-millimetre autocannons to protect their tail.

She could fire forwards if necessary, but the tail was the real danger and the real reason for having a gunner in the first place.

"Okay, Wardens, form up, line abreast, two ranks by pairs," Major Salm's voice galloped into Thunderlane's ears through his helmet. "We are going to attack that Valish battleship."

"Did he just say 'battleship'?" Cloudchaser asked, turning around in her turret so that she could look momentarily forwards. "As in that battleship?"

"It's not like the sky is full of battleships," Thunderlane replied as he nosed their Skybolt forwards into line. As one of the lead airships, he was in the front rank, with Warden Eight — pilot was Flitter, gunner was her twin brother Flutter — tucking in behind his starboard wing.

The sky wasn't full of battleships, but in the direction in which they formed up — with Major Salm in his distinctive white Skybolt hovering in front of them — there was one very big battleship right there, in the sky, floating over what they'd been told was their original objective, the Valish HQ.

Because the Valish had decided to start something. Tonight of all nights — not that it wouldn't have been ridiculous any other night, picking a fight with Atlas as though Atlas hadn't been here all year to help them out, as if this was going to be anything but a one-sided beatdown — when they ought to have been celebrating, when they ought to have been having a good time, when Thunderlane and Cloudchaser ought to be down in that cosy hole in the wall place they'd found in Shepherd's Bush — gotta love these Valish place names — with the ice-cold beer and the handmade curry, commiserating over Atlas' defeat. Tonight, when they had been lucky enough to win the squadron draw to get liberty, the Valish had decided to start something.

That they'd decided to pick a fight with anyone was bad enough; that they'd decided to pick it with Atlas was even worse.

Don't we have enough enemies outside the walls?

Apparently not for the Valish; they just want to fight everyone.

Well, if that was what they wanted, then Atlas was … going to be kinda restrained about it all, actually; instead of just bombing everything they could reach, they were going to go after the generals who had decided to cause all this trouble for everyone else and leave the regular folks alone. Except the Valish generals must have seen that coming, hence the battleship hovering over their headquarters.

Even at this distance, Thunderlane could see why this might make it hard for the Skyrays to land with the assault team.

That ship had a lot of guns.

“Sir,” said Warden Lead, “I’m not sure we have the firepower to take that thing, even if we hit it with a full volley—”

“We’re not trying to take it out, Lead,” Salm informed her. “Our objective is to punch a single hole in that monster’s hull through which a team of Specialists will board and take the ship.”

“Board it?” Thunderlane asked. “You mean … like pirates?”

“Yaaar!” Flitter cried.

A ripple of laughter ran through the squadron, all of it emerging into Thunderlane’s ears.

“Honestly, Seven? Yes, it is a little like pirates,” Salm replied. “Or old-fashioned navy men, if that makes it seem more serious to you. The bottom line is, we can’t destroy the ship where it is because that will destroy the target beneath, which we don’t want, so we need to capture it and move it out of the way.” He paused for a second. “So that’s our job, to make a door for the Specialists. If you can, aim for the upper half, closer to the bow than the stern, but anything is better than nothing at all; the important thing is to breach its armour. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir!” the pilots chorused.

“I won’t pretend that this will be a cakewalk,” Salm said. “You can all see how many guns that ship has. It can put out heavy fire. But that fire will not be accurate, those guns are old and slow, and the fire control probably isn’t anything to write home about. So remember your training, don’t fly straight and level in the combat area, and pay attention to where their shells are bursting.”

Salm’s Skybolt inched forwards, toward the battleship and away from Warden Squadron.

“If we do this,” he said, “today will be a strange blip in history that no one can explain. If we fail, then tonight could be the start of a war between Vale and Atlas. Warden Squadron, in line by pairs, half speed, advance!”

“In line, half speed?” Cloudchaser said. “What is this, a cavalry charge or something?”

“I’m sure we’re going to speed up when we get closer to the target,” Thunderlane replied as he throttled the Skybolt to half speed. It wasn’t fast — even full speed on a Skybolt wasn’t the fastest; it was an airship built for power and survivability, not speed or agility — but it was enough to get them moving.

Warden Squadron advanced in a perfect line that would have made the flight sergeant instructor back in Atlas weep with pride, every airship keeping perfectly aligned with the airship on its wing, each airship keeping in formation with the one behind or ahead.

Thunderlane switched over to the wing-pair channel. “Hey, Flitter, Flutter, how do you feel about this?”

“Well, we’re in the toughest airship in the Atlesian fleet, so I like our chances,” Flitter replied. “I mean, they say you can lose both wings and one engine in one of these and still fly back to Atlas, right?”

“I heard it was two wings and both engines,” Flutter chimed in.

“Two wings and an engine on fire,” said Cloudchaser.

“Sounds like we don’t even need to bother trying to evade,” Thunderlane said. “We can take a couple of hits from those guns, no big deal.”

“Well, let’s not put the survivability of the Skybolt to the test unless we have to, huh?” asked Cloudchaser. “I mean you might as well try not to get hit.”

There was a moment of silence between the four of them. The battleship grew closer, but it didn’t fire. Either they were still out of range, or like Major Salm had said, the targeting was garbage and they were holding their fire until the Skybolts got a little closer.

Thunderlane looked at the target. Up top, near the bow, ideally. There were no obvious weak spots that he could see. It looked pretty heavily armoured all over. It was probably like the Skybolt: not fast, not nimble, built to survive, not to move.

So parking it above somewhere important was kind of ideal.

Still, it was old.

Mind, the Skybolt was no spring chicken either — it had been in service for about twenty, thirty years — it was just that nothing better had ever come along to replace it. Now, sure, Skydart pilots gave you all kinds of crap about flying a museum piece and how your airship should be relegated to giving joy rides at the county fair with all the other old relics, but screw them; this thing was still around because nothing better had come along yet.

Their target, on the other hand, was just old because it was old, because the Valish wanted to buy something from the Mistralians, and so, the Mistralians had dragged whatever old garbage they had out of the mothballs and sold it to the Valish.

At least, that was how Thunderlane understood it; that was how the scuttlebutt indicated it had gone down.

There was no comparison between his airship and that battleship, as Warden Squadron were about to make very clear.

There weren’t many guns on top, he noticed; yes, there were the big turrets — but those guns would have the hardest time aiming at a small airship like a Skybolt — but beneath the big gun turrets, on the side, there was a line running across the flank where there were no guns, before the broadside battery started further down. That was his target. That was where he was going to put his missile.

A shot erupted from the Zhenyuan, from a gun amidships, flying through the night air to burst just off Major Salm’s white Skybolt.

There was a moment of pause.

Then the side of the Zhenyuan was consumed with fire.

“Wardens, break by pairs!” Salm ordered. “All airships to maximum speed, attack at will!”

“Stay on me, Flitter,” Thunderlane muttered as he throttled up to top speed, his Skybolt surging forward through the sky. “Cloudchaser, Flutter, see if you can hit some of these shells before they hit us.”

“Small targets, but I’ll give it a try,” Cloudchaser muttered, and her autocannons cast a shadow over Thunderlane as she turned her turret to face front.

The Zhenyuan wasn’t firing every single gun it had at once; rather, it was staggering its fire, cycling it, so that despite what might be the ponderous reload times of some of those guns, especially the big ones, there were always some guns firing, always some shells being pumped out at the approaching Skybolts.

The night air was as bright as day from the bursting of the shells in air, explosions everywhere, winking in and out. The muzzles of the autocannons flared as Cloudchaser fired in controlled bursts; Thunderlane couldn’t tell if she was hitting anything.

“Three is down! Repeat, Three is down!”

“Six is hit!”

“I’m okay, I can keep going.”

Thunderlane gripped the stick with both hands, diving downwards as the shells burst above. Yeah, they were supposed to be aiming for a point above, but that was where the fire seemed thickest.

He dived, rolling a little as he dived, the nose of his Skybolt pointing towards the streets of Vale below.

The streets that were rising to meet them at speed.

“Thunderlane, what are you doing?” Cloudchaser asked.

“Thunderlane, you need to pull up,” Flitter told him.

“Seven, what are you doing?” Salm demanded.

“I’ve got an idea, sir, trust me,” Thunderlane said.

The streets of Vale, the tall skyscrapers of glass and steel, they were all coming up towards him, and coming up fast too for all that the Skybolt was not a fast airship; if it had been, he would have hit the deck by now. The streets were rising, but the shells weren’t falling; the Valish weren’t shooting at him, either because they weren’t so mad as to fire on their own city or because he was too low for their guns to target or simply because the rest of Warden Squadron was keeping them too busy, but they weren’t shooting at him. The shell bursts were all up above, where the rest of the squadron was dancing through the air, trying to penetrate an increasingly dense hedge of fire.

“We lost Twelve!”

“Major, that fire is too thick; it’s intercepting our missiles.”

Thunderlane pulled up, yanking the stick back hard. The Skybolt jerked, bucking in the air like a wild horse as it rose, shakingly for a second, then more smoothly as it soared upwards like an arrow.

An arrow aimed straight at the Zhenyuan.

Thunderlane was pointing his Skybolt straight towards the bottom of the battleship. Their guns still weren’t shooting at him; he was certain it was because he was in their blindspot.

If he’d wanted to, he could have blown a hole right in the bottom of the hull, but he had something else in mind.

“Flitter, you might want to break off for this.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not bailing on you now,” Flitter said. “I want to see how this ends, even if it ends with you going splat.”

Thunderlane laughed. “Okay then, hold on.”

He pushed the stick forwards, moments before he would have slammed into the hull of the Zhenyuan. Instead, he buzzed it, the top of Cloudchaser’s turret almost scraping the hull as he passed between the immense gun turrets.

The anti-air guns on the headquarters towers began to fire. Thunderlane saw the shots coming, tracer rounds lighting up the night; he heard — he felt — the shots striking home, slamming into the fuselage. He put his trust in the famed survivability of the Skybolt because there was really nothing else for it right now; stuck to the bottom of the battleship like he was, it wasn’t as though he had any chance to evade.

He pulled up, rising on the far side of the Zhenyuan, the starboard side, the side where there were no guns firing and the crew didn’t have time or attention to aim and fire at him as he rose past their turrets and casemates and over the big Valish battleship.

Thunderlane rolled in the air, turning his nose down once more.

He took aim, the reticle on his HUD fixed on the Zhenyuan.

“Warden Seven, missiles away,” he muttered as he tapped the control on the side of the stick twice.

Two missiles streaked down from beneath his wings, descending on the Zhenyuan from above to explode on the hull beneath the great gun turrets.

Thunderlane pulled up. “Flitter, Eight, can you confirm damage?”

There was a pause. “Damage confirmed!” Flitter cried. “Confirm hull is breached, hull is breached!” She whooped. “Way to go, Thunderlane!”

“All Wardens, fall back!” Salm commanded. “Congratulations, Seven. Now let the Specialists take it from here.”

Winter put a hand on the back of the pilot’s chair as she leaned forwards; her face was almost level with the pilot’s own. “We have an entry point,” she said. “Take us in.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” the pilot said. She paused for a second before she added, “You might want to hold onto something; this could get a little rough.”

Winter nodded and stepped back, retreating out of the cockpit and into the main compartment of the Skyray.

“Warden Squadron has opened up a door for us,” she informed her team. “Now it’s up to us to walk through it — and deal with whatever we find on the other side.”

Kermes whooped. “Go Team Warlock! We ride again!”

The corner of Winter’s lip turned upwards in a smile. When General Ironwood had given her the choice of a Specialist team for what had, at that point, been envisaged as a diversionary attack on the outside of the Valish HQ, there had only been one team that she wanted: Aurelius Cornwall, Lavender Danceflower, and Kermes Mules. They had been her team when she had been at Atlas Academy: Team WALK, pronounced ‘Warlock.’

Aurelius Cornwall had a prosthetic leg — he always had, even when he’d been a first-year student, even when they had met up during Initiation — unlike many with a prosthetic, he hadn’t lost the leg anywhere; he’d just been born without. He was a pretty average-looking young man, handsome in an unremarkable way — much like Weiss’ partner, Flash Sentry — with dark hair cut short in a martial style, a firm jaw, high cheekbones. He wore a red jacket instead of the more usual Atlesian white, with gold facings, although he did have a white waistcoat on beneath and white crossbelts across his chest. His trousers were a tin grey, and there was more gold lining his high boots. He wore a sword — an infantry sabre, with a slender blade — at his hip, and across his knees rested a semi-automatic rifle with a fixed bayonet.

Lavender Danceflower was a tall young woman, almost as tall as Winter herself, with bright yellow hair dyed blue and pink at the tips which hung above her shoulders. She wore a green dress underneath a white jacket, with a skirt that didn’t quite reach her knees, and more blue and pink dancing around the hem in a pattern that looked like both leaves and hearts at the same time. Her stockings, which covered her legs up to and beyond the hem of the skirt, were as yellow as her hair, and her boots were a yellow-brown colour that put Winter in mind of wax. She had a staff, with a large yellow lightning dust crystal set at its tip and various pouches on the brown belt that clinched her waist.

Kermes Mules had been Winter’s partner; when they’d been at the Academy together, she had frequently complained of her poverty, but she seemed to be doing well enough at least to have replaced her shoes. She’d owned a truly tatty pair of red boots that had been falling apart by their fourth year at Atlas, but Kermes would not get rid of them; she’d said that she couldn’t get rid of them. But they were gone now, replaced by a brand new pair of bright red boots, so new that there was still a shine on the leather and not a scuff or crumple to be seen. She wore no jacket, only a white blouse which — like the string of white pearls around her neck, another sign of her greater prosperity if they were real — contrasted with the darkness of her complexion, and left her arms bare down to the white bandages wound around her hand and wrists up towards the elbow. Kermes preferred to fight with fists and feet than with weapons — so those boots probably wouldn’t be staying so immaculate for very long — but she did have a pair of revolvers shoved into the black belt at her waist.

“Yes, Kermes, we ride again,” Winter said. “Or should that be 'dance again'?”

Kermes laughed. “Well, we’re certainly gonna get on down on that Valish ship, right? And maybe when we’re done, Lav can get on the piano like in the old days, and Aurelius can refuse to dance, just like in the old days.”

“It was more fun watching you two dance,” Aurelius said.

“I can’t decide whether that sounds sad or creepy,” said Lavender. “But I tell you what, if we make it through this mission, I’ll play the piano for you all night and the next day.”

“You don’t think we’re going to make it?” asked Kermes, sounding disappointed.

“It’s the four of us against an entire battleship,” Lavender pointed out. “It’s … a little nuts, right?”

“So was me finding out I had a rich aunt who’d left me all her money,” Kermes said. “But that happened.”

Lavender’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think that’s in quite the same league.”

“Maybe not, but we’re going to do it all the same,” Winter declared. “General Ironwood is counting on us. Counting on me. General Ironwood is counting me, and I am counting on all of you to help me not let him down.”

Kermes grinned. “Well, when you put it like that, Winnie, how can we fail? We wouldn’t want to let you down in front of the General, would we? Although I think we should get some medals for our gallantry when all this is over.”

“That will depend on what my report has to say about your gallantry,” Winter replied.

Kermes and Aurelius were sitting on one side of the Skyray, Lavender alone on the other. Winter sat down next to Lavender and strapped herself into the bench on which they sat. And just as well, too, because the airship began to move violently, erratically, jerking from side to side, diving and then pulling up again, as outside the ship, they could hear the explosions from the shells bursting around them.

“I apologise that this isn’t the mission you were selected for,” Winter said, raising her voice to be heard over the shellfire without shouting. “But this is of vital importance, much moreso than a diversionary assault would have been. We need to get this ship out of the way before Clover’s team can move in.”

She and Lavender both flinched as a shell fragment tore through the side of the Skyray just beside, ripping through the door and flying through the intervening space to fly out of the other door as well — Kermes and Aurelius flinched too when that happened.

Moments later, the whole Skyray jerked, and red warning klaxons began to sound in the cockpit.

“We took a hit to one engine,” the pilot called to them. “But don’t worry, I’ll land you there in one piece.”

“Understood,” Winter said. “This is why we need to move that ship. The good news is that we don’t have to clear the whole ship of Valish sailors; we only need to secure the bridge and fly the ship from there.”

“Do we know where to find the bridge?” asked Aurelius.

“The Zhenyuan has a very traditional design,” Winter informed him. “The bridge is at the top of the ship, close to the bow. That’s why Warden Squadron was instructed to focus their efforts there, to give us the least amount of distance to our objective.”

“What kind of opposition can we expect?” asked Aurelius.

“Unknown,” Winter answered. “We don’t know how well the Valish have manned the ship—”

“Those aren’t robots manning all those guns, right?” Kermes said. “I mean, a ship that old, the guns must be manual; they aren’t firing those weapons from the bridge.”

“A good thing, they’re too far away to get in our way,” Lavender said. “But just because the guns are being manned doesn’t mean they have a lot of ship security. That they managed to find enough sailors for the guns doesn’t mean that they found enough marines to secure it as well. I don’t expect heavy opposition.”

“You should always expect heavy opposition,” Aurelius said. “That way—”

“You’re never disappointed,” chorused Lavender, Kermes — and Winter, too.

“It’s like I’ve never been away,” Winter murmured.

“You know it, Winnie!” Kermes cried. “And hey, if the Valish blow us out of the sky or overwhelm us with sheer numbers, I want you guys to know I’m glad that we get to do this together, as a team.” She smiled. “I’ve missed this.”

Nobody replied to that, but Lavender smiled, and Winter … well, it did feel a lot like being back at school again. In a good way.

“Ten seconds out from the objective!” called the pilot. “You’d better be prepared for a quick exit.”

Winter reached with one hand for the buckle on her restraint but didn’t unclasp it, not yet. She began to count: one, two, three — the airship was still shaking, still bucking in the air, dancing through the fire aimed towards it — four, five, now, Winter unfastened herself and stood up.

The rest of her team did likewise.

They all reached for the safety straps that hung from the ceiling.

Winter conjured a quartet of black glyphs beneath their feet to keep them from slipping and sliding across the airship, slamming into the walls.

The Skyray turned sharply, then stopped moving. The door on the right-hand side of the airship opened, letting in a lot of smoke from the burning engine outside, but revealing through the smoke the hole that Warden Seven had blown in the hull of the Zhenyuan.

It was a large tear, almost as large as the Skyray, a jagged rent in the green armour plating, a window torn open to show the wooden interior of the warship within.

There was a distance between the two airships, but nothing of any concern to them.

“Let’s go!” Winter shouted, her glyphs dissolving as she was the first to leap across the chasm of empty air that separated them. She landed heavily upon the wood floor with a thump, then scrambled out of the way of the others. Kermes was the first to follow, her new red boots squeaking a little on the floor, then Aurelius landed with a heavy thud, then Lavender last of all, landing so lightly that she seemed to make no sound at all.

Winter drew her sabre from her waist, and then, from the hilt of the sabre, she drew her dagger, holding it in her off hand. Kermes drew both pistols, Aurelius held his rifle to his shoulder, and Lavender gripped her staff in both hands.

Their Skyray began to turn, presenting its back to them as it flew away. The airship was illuminated by the fires of the shells bursting around it as it headed back the way it had come, towards the safety of—

The Skyray burst into flame as a direct hit from the Valish ship tore the fragile hull apart. It was only burning fragments that fell down to the city below.

“Damn,” Kermes muttered. “They got us in, and then they … damn it!”

“They did what they had to do,” Aurelius said. “They gave us a chance.”

“I know,” Kermes said. “But still…”

“Let’s move,” Winter said, gesturing with her sabre towards the bow of the ship. “The bridge should be in this direction.”

“They know about the Skyray,” Lavender said. “They probably know we’re here.”

“Then let’s not give them time to come to us,” Winter declared.

She led the way, her black boots squeaking softly on the wooden floor — wooden floor! On an airship! — as she walked down corridors that, aside from being made of wood, were as bare and austere as anything on an Atlesian cruiser. But an Atlesian cruiser would have been brighter, with overhead lights reflected off the pristine white surfaces of the walls and floor, whereas this corridor was oppressive and dark, with only fire dust crystals set in sconces on the walls to offer any illumination at all. The shadows were heavy and seemed to surround them as they moved.

The corridors were tight, and the walls were flat and offered no cover whatsoever. They might almost have been designed to catch intruders in a confined space where they could be gunned down.

And it might have worked for the squad of Valish troops who appeared at the end of the corridor, had they been facing enemies other than huntsmen, and Atlesian Specialists at that.

The Valish troops — they might be Royal Marines, but Winter couldn’t say for sure — were first visible by their shadows, but the men and women themselves appeared almost immediately after, some kneeling, others standing, all of them bending around the corners on either side to send a flurry of fire from their rifles hurling down the corridor.

Winter twirled her dagger and her sword in front of her, deflecting some of the bullets, feeling others strike her and rip pieces off her aura.

“Summon cover!” Winter shouted as she dropped to one knee, jamming the tip of her sabre into the wooden floor.

She could hear Aurelius and Kermes both firing over her head as Winter conjured a blue white glyph around her planted sword.

She summoned a murder of tiny nevermores, larval grimm, each one no larger than a pigeon: dangerous alone to an untrained civilian; in a group, capable of tearing aura to shreds if they weren’t interrupted. She had killed these particular nevermores in Initiation, when she and Kermes had stumbled into their nest. They were not her strongest summon, but against many enemies like this —even if some of their enemies were down already, taken out by well-placed shots — they were invaluable.

The murder of nevermores swirled around her for a moment, swarming her, just as they had done when she first blundered into them, except that they didn’t attack. They were saving that for her enemies.

Winter drew her sword from out of the floor and brandished it at the Valish soldiers.

The little nevermores flew towards them, spectral white wings beating violently.

For a moment, they consumed the corridor mouth; Winter couldn’t see anything but the white of the nevermores that she had summoned.

Then they split into two groups, and the shooting stopped, and the screaming began.

The team advanced rapidly, emerging out of the corridor to find all the Valish troops dead; those that hadn’t been shot looked as though they had pecked to death by a hundred angry beaks or torn up by small but razor-sharp talons.

Winter’s summoned nevermores hovered over them, some of the spectres dropping down to harass the bodies.

“I’d forgotten how vicious they were,” Kermes observed.

Winter let the summoned creatures fade into nothingness; with no more immediate enemies, there was no point in letting the summoning consume more of her aura than necessary. She looked left and right, wondering which path to take. She decided to go right, although she would admit that she had no grounds for it beyond a vague instinct.

Turning right, and then taking the next right as the corridor turned, brought her team to an elevator shaft, a gaping black hole that led only downwards — the ceiling of the shaft was visible, with no option to go upwards.

The bridge was at the top and the bow, but did that mean the very top of the ship or might it be down just a little?

“This … we’ll go back the way we came,” Winter said. “If the left turning leads to another shaft like this, then the bridge must be down; if not, we’ll keep going until we can’t go any further, and only then can we be sure the bridge wasn’t on this level.”

Kermes nodded. Neither Lavender nor Aurelius said anything about her having gone the wrong way; they didn’t hold it against her that her instinct had been wrong this once.

Schematics would have been good, but the layout of a pair of Mistralian museum pieces had not been something that had interested Atlesian intelligence, for obvious reasons.

They were lucky to have a vague idea of where the bridge was.

They retraced their steps, passing over the dead bodies of the Valish troops, taking the path that led to the left, rounding a corner, and another. They kept moving quickly, their footsteps echoing on the dark wood.

Winter stopped as she heard footsteps approaching. Metal footsteps, by the sound of it, and moving quickly too, a swift pitter-patter of clattering feet drawing closer to their position.

“Get ready,” she hissed, dropping to her knees to give Kermes and Aurelius the opportunity to fire over her. She didn’t start to summon anything, but she held her sword ready to summon, if need be.

The metallic footsteps drew closer. A metallic … metallic dog seemed like the best word for it, although there wasn’t much that was doglike about it beyond the fact that it was a little small and walked on four legs. But it had no head, just a black oblong body and those little stubby legs, and some loose exposed wires connecting them.

There was a hissing sound from somewhere, and Winter flinched as something hit her. It was armed? Where? She couldn’t see a weapon.

But something hit her again as more of the robots rounded the corner, advancing more slowly now down the corridor, a mass like hunting hounds, like the hounds that Mother sometimes took out with her when she wasn’t so concerned with whether she brought her trophy back alive or not.

Kermes and Aurelius both opened fire, but the robots seemed to be made of sturdy stuff, and their bullets simply ricocheted off the black bodies without appearing to do any visible damage.

The robots kept advancing.

“Let me!” Lavender declared as she leapt over Winter’s head, her staff twirling in her hands before she slammed it, butt down, into the wooden floor.

Lightning burst out from the crystal at the tip of the staff, striking the walls, flaying the floor, hitting the robots as they advanced. Yellow lightning struck each and every one of them, leaping from robot to robot, returning for a second strike, cascading back and forth up the swarm of robots that had stopped advancing and only jerked, and shuddered, and then collapsed onto the ground in a gently twitching heap.

The lightning ceased as Lavender spun her staff in one hand. “Gets them every time.”

“Awesome work,” Kermes said. “But since when do the Valish use robots?”

“Maybe they’re MARS robots and came with the ship?” suggested Aurelius.

“They don’t have MARS written on them,” Lavender observed, kneeling down to get a better look at one. “Although there is this gold star here.”

“It doesn’t matter where they came from,” Winter declared. “They’ve been dealt with, that’s all. Let’s keep going.”

She took the fact that they were meeting additional layers of security as a sign that they were moving in the right direction, and her suspicions — her optimism — were confirmed as the corridor straightened out, all corners disappearing and presenting a straight shot towards a sealed door. Unlike the floor or the walls, this door was made of metal, presumably because even the Mistralians realised that a wooden door wasn’t very secure.

There wasn’t any obvious handle or button or way to open the door, but there was a guard standing before it: a single woman, tall and muscular, with high cheekbones and sunken cheeks, wearing a black tanktop and camouflage trousers, with martial boots upon her feet. Her hair was black and shaved on the back and sides, leaving only a thick but modest Mohawk on top of her head, like a strip of grass left untouched by the mower that had cut everything else.

Her arms were toned and corded with muscle, and she had a chainsaw in one hand.

In the other, she had a baton that glowed red; it was probably loaded with fire dust.

“Four of you, huh?” she purred. “My, isn’t this gonna be fun?”

“One of you?” Kermes asked. “You’re no Valish soldier; you’re a huntress.”

She flashed her teeth. They were pearly white. “Guilty as charged, honey.”

“So what are you doing joining in with this crap?” Kermes demanded. “Isn’t this just Valish military insanity?”

“This isn’t about any kind of insanity,” the huntress declared. “This is about Vale, and it’s about you and how you keep taking from us and taking from us and grinding our faces into the mud with your—”

“I’m sorry I asked now,” Kermes muttered. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re very upset, but can we skip all the blah blah blah and get to the part where I kick your ass?” She looked at Winter. “With your permission, Major.”

Winter gestured to their huntress opponent. “Be my guest.”

The huntress scowled. She revved her chainsaw. “There’s no way you’re getting past me in one piece.”

“Hey, we may look young and beautiful, but we’re not some team of students the General picked out for our potential,” Kermes said. She started to dance on the balls of her feet, her red boots moving almost as if they were independent of the rest of her, tapping on the wooden floor as Kermes darted from side to side, fists raised. “We’re officers, so don’t get cocky.”

“Ooh, officers,” the huntress said. “I suppose you’re those Atlesian Specialists they make so much fuss about. Well, I’ve wanted to try my luck against one of—”

Kermes moved before she could finish. Her feet were a blur, Kermes feet were always a blur; it wasn’t just that she was fast, it was that her feet seemed to take three steps where one would do and do it faster than most people would with only a single step. The squeaking of her boots was gone, replaced by a tapping sound like tap dancing, like a chorus of tap dancers as Kermes closed the distance to her opponent.

Her feet were a blur, but they became visible as she landed a roundhouse kick into the side of the Valish huntress.

The huntress gasped and swung her fire dust baton. Kermes ducked, letting the baton pass over her before she danced behind the huntress and kicked her again, knocking her forwards. She followed up with a series of punches all into her back, continuously forcing the huntress to stagger onwards.

The huntress managed to turn, to swing her chainsaw, but it was a ponderous swing, and Kermes retreated quickly from it, let it pass, and then counterattacked. She threw punches at the huntress’ stomach, then darted around her to land two kicks, one to the ribs, one to the hip.

Another kick cut her legs out from under her and dumped her down on the wooden floor. Her chainsaw fell from her hands. Kermes picked it up before she could recover it, and a manic light entered her eyes as she brought the growling weapon down upon its former owner.

The huntress squirmed and wriggled on the floor — Kermes planted one red boot upon her hand — before her aura broke, a grey ripple running up and down her body.

Kermes kicked the huntress in the head, snapping it sideways and leaving her lying motionless on the deck. She dusted off her hands.

“I’d say your luck wasn’t very good,” she observed.

Lavender groaned.

“Come on, she asked for that one,” Kermes insisted.

“Good work,” Winter said. “Still got it, I see.”

“You know it,” Kermes said. “I can try and punch through this door for you, if you like? Think the bridge is on the other side?”

“I’m certain of it,” Winter said. “But I have another idea for that. Aurelius, when the door is broken, I want you to take point, take out any guards on the bridge itself. Make sure you have a full magazine.”

Aurelius nodded, and reloaded his rifle, slamming a fresh mag into place and chambering a round.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, although there was nothing to take aim at.

Winter herself brandished her dagger at the sealed door. It was hard to see, but there was a little light blue hardlight dust in the pommel; although not nearly as obvious or as large an amount as Weiss carried in her sword, nevertheless, it was enough for the large laser glyph that she conjured up behind her.

A single glyph, firing a single concentrated beam that blew a hole clean through the armoured door.

Aurelius was moving before the beam had even faded, leaping through the breach and landing nimbly on the other side. His rifle barked again and again as he switched from target to target, turning his attention from one side of the room to the other.

By the time that Winter and the others followed him in, six bodies of soldiers or marines with rifles lay on the ground, and Aurelius was training his rifle on everyone who remained.

The bridge was a semicircle, with no viewscreens but a large window looking out on the night sky and the city beyond. The semicircle was ringed with consoles, at which Valish sailors in light green stood, although they were all looking in shock at Aurelius, and then at his comrades. No one was sitting down except the captain, a middle-aged man with a white beard, who sat in the centre of the room.

Another man, younger but also bearded, stood beside him. Winter guessed he was the second in command.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Winter said. “My name is Major Winter Schnee of the Atlesian forces, and this ship is ours.”

“It is not!” the captain declared, rising from his seat. “This is a ship of the Valish Royal Navy, and we will never—”

He stopped, because Kermes had just shot him.

She kept her pistol out, running it around the bridge. “Does anybody else feel like being a hero? Does anyone else want to get up on their hind legs and make a speech?”

“Kermes,” Winter murmured disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry, Win, but we don’t have time for this crap,” Kermes spat. “Listen up, folks, my friend here comes from a good family, and she excelled in all her classes, even etiquette. But I’m not from a good family, and I flunked etiquette class, so I’m going to give it to you straight: either you steer this ship where we tell you, or you can join your captain and your guards; speaking of which, kick those rifles this way out of temptation, all of them, come on. Now!”

The crew kicked the rifles across the wooden floor in their direction.

The presumable first officer tugged on his tunic. “What … what is your heading, Major Schnee?”

Dark Corridors (New)

Dark Corridors

The Valish battleship began to move away.

As Sunset and Councillor Emerald raced towards the headquarters, they could see the tops of the towers despite all the buildings between them, and Sunset could see the battleship too, the battleship that was moving away from its position directly above the Military Headquarters and towards … it seemed to be moving inwards, over Vale.

"What are they doing?" Councillor Emerald shouted to be heard over the roar of the motorcycle engine.

"I don't know!" Sunset shouted back. For a moment, she was worried that the Siren might have just decided to destroy as much of Vale as she could and had sent the ship to accomplish that goal, but it wasn't firing on the city below. As it moved off, exposing the Military Headquarters, the battleship continued to fire on the Atlesian airships, bringing all the guns to bear on them that it could, although some guns were falling silent simply because — as far as Sunset could tell from down here — they could no longer be brought to bear on the Atlesians.

The airship was firing its guns, but at the same time, it was moving away from the position it had been defending, moving in such a way that made it harder to engage its enemies, and moving, what was more, away from any enemies. Might there be a disagreement between the people flying the ship and the people crewing the guns? One group wanted to fight the Atlesians, another was less keen. Sunset hadn't been watching the whole course of the aerial battle — she had to keep her eyes on the road at least some of the time; it would be a fine thing if this venture ended with Councillor Emerald breaking his neck after Sunset crashed her bike into a stray dog or an overturned trash can because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going — but perhaps the Atlesian attack had scared off the bridge crew, but the gunners were still full of fight.

Perhaps the bridge crew were less enthralled to the Siren's song and could recognise how absurd General Blackthorn's orders and this entire situation was, how ludicrous it was to fight the Atlesians, to declare martial law on their own people, to send out columns of infantry and armoured vehicles to shoot people for breaking a curfew that hadn't existed until tonight.

If it was so, then Sunset could only wish that there were more people of such sense in the Valish Defence Forces.

She looked back at the road, checking that there was nothing she was about to run into, and then turned her eyes towards the skies once more. The fire from the battleship was slackening all the time as its course brought it further away and increasingly badly angled to engage. The anti-airship guns on top of the towers were firing, blazing away, lighting up the night sky with their fire, but while that might have looked impressive before the great battleship had turned its side into a wall of fire, it was rather less so now.

It seemed the Atlesian airships — Rainbow could have named them, no doubt, and maybe Blake could too, but all Sunset could say was that they were not the Skyray transports — thought so too, by the way they swooped in to the attack. Flares burst from the rears of the airships, looking like falling stars as they descended through the darkness, confusing the guns as their fire ripped harmlessly through the falling lights. Some of the Atlesian ships were struck, it seemed to Sunset — one of them even had one of its bulky rear engines catch fire — but none of them fell, they were all still flying.

They were all still firing, too, as missiles leapt from beneath the rectangular wings in fiery trails to slam into the towers beneath the guns. The grim, gaunt, concrete towers were shattered, falling in fragments down to the ground, and the guns with them. Falling either inside or outside the Headquarters itself, as Sunset supposed they would find out once they reached it.

"Atlesian restraint?" Councillor Emerald cried.

"I mean, they didn't destroy the ship, Councillor!" Sunset replied. "And most of the building looks to be intact. We shouldn't have any trouble getting inside."

Two Atlesian Skyrays streaked overhead, flying towards the Headquarters even as the other airships, the ones that had just knocked out the towers, withdrew.

"At least I hope not," Sunset muttered.

"Miss Shimmer?"

"Never mind, Councillor, it was nothing," Sunset said.

So, the Atlesians were going to attack the Headquarters as well? Sunset hadn't known that they were going to do that — she'd been expelled from paradise before being able to find out what Professor Ozpin and his allies planned to do with the information Cinder had supplied — but it made sense that they would take such a step. No doubt they thought, as Councillor Emerald thought, that the key to getting a grip on this madness lay in the beating heart of the Valish Defence Force. Although what General Ironwood intended by getting a grip on things, Sunset was not so sure of. Did they mean to wipe out the Valish high command? Would that have any impact at all, so long as the Siren's spell remained in effect? And what of the Siren herself, were they prepared for her? It was hard to see how they could be — Sunset wasn't certain she was prepared for the Siren, and she at least knew what it was, what it was capable of, understood its magic as a fellow native of Equestria; how were Atlesians, who didn't understand what they were dealing with, who might not have even been told what they were dealing with, supposed to prepare better than her?

Professor Ozpin, I fear our secrecy will be our undoing. Sunset understood why Professor Ozpin and his allies were reluctant to share information with the wider world — and not least because those who knew the truth seemed to have a distressing habit of taking fright as Amber had or turning traitor as Professor Lionheart had if Cinder spoke true — but so many people were involved in this beyond the handful with whom the Professor chose to share his information. This battle relied on so many more than simply Team SAPR and Team RSPT, or General Ironwood and Qrow Branwen. So many people were fighting to contain Salem's malice, and yet, they fought with one hand behind their backs.

One could argue that battles of this scale were rare, but still … they didn't know what they were walking into.

Perhaps Sunset ought to have contacted General Ironwood herself to have informed him about her own plans, her observations, what she'd seen in the Headquarters, and what General Ironwood's people might be getting into — at the same time, she could have asked them to not shoot her if they saw her — but even if that thought had occurred to her, which, in all the excitement, it had not … she didn't have his number.

Although I think Councillor Emerald must; not that this occurred to him either.

Perhaps he thought that General Ironwood wasn't going to intervene in Vale. In fairness, for the most part, he has not. We haven't seen Atlesian troops dropping in all over the city to redeem the situation. Their only strike is coming here, at the central nerve centre.

They were getting close to the Headquarters themselves now. Sunset turned off the road and into a small side road, an alleyway connecting two larger thoroughfares. The road ahead of her would take them directly to the Headquarters, past the Albright building where Sunset had conducted her reconnaissance earlier today; that was why Sunset stopped her bike while they were still in the alley, hitting the brakes so that they came to a stop lurking behind or beside some sort of building that Sunset hadn't paid attention to before and couldn't identify now.

"Why are we stopped?" Councillor Emerald demanded.

Sunset got off her bike and took off her helmet. "We're stopped," she said, "because the last time I was here, there were roadblocks outside the HQ, and troops, and tanks. And I don't want you to get blown up, Councillor — it wouldn't be in the interests of Vale or your son — so I need you to stay here, where it's safe, and then I'll go out there, clear a path for us, and I'll shout you when it’s safe to come out."

"Your consideration is appreciated, Miss Shimmer, but at some point, I suppose you will have to accept some danger to me," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"At some point, Councillor, but not a tank," Sunset replied, in a tone so tart it would have made a pleasant dessert. "They can't see you, but that doesn't mean the shell fragments couldn't do you harm. Also, there's something that I need you to do: call General Ironwood, tell him that we're on our way, and ask him to tell his men currently trying to storm the base not to shoot at us; we're on the same side."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "I don't know if he'll answer, but I can try." He got his scroll of the breast pocket of his jacket, then stopped. "Will he be able to hear me, concealed as I am?"

Sunset opened her mouth. "That … is a very good question, Councillor, to which I fear I do not know the answer. But, in the circumstances, provided you stay here…" She placed one hand upon the Councillor's shoulder and dispelled the enchantment that she had cast upon him at the beginning of their ride. "There, you can be seen and noticed as much as anyone else now, so it really is important that you stay here. Once it's safe, and you've made the call, I will restore the effect until we reach … until it's time for you to start giving orders." She stepped away. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"What are you planning to do against a tank, Miss Shimmer?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"Well, I have one or two ideas, Councillor," Sunset replied. It really depended on … how comfortable she was in killing the crew.

Not particularly, to be honest. She didn't really want to kill anyone — it hadn't been any fun the first time, and she doubted that it was going to taste better with repetition — and in any case, it wasn't really their fault that they were being controlled by a Siren. As dangerous as they might be to the peace, the people of Vale, and the stability of Remnant, it was a bit unfair to blame them or hold them responsible. So blowing up a shell in their gun so as to destroy the whole tank in a fiery explosion … no. Sunset would have done it if it had been crewed by robots just for how cool it would have looked, but people … no. She might have … hopefully, she hadn't done too much harm to the soldiers they'd encountered so far — all those motorcyclists had been wearing their helmets, after all — but blowing them up was a step too far.

Which meant…

Yeah. Yeah, that ought to do it.

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back. She gripped the black sword lightly in one hand but did not ignite it; she didn't have that much dust, she probably couldn't keep it lit for long and needed to save it. And if she'd wanted to burn someone, she'd have planned to blow up the tank.

Instead, the blade was as black as the night itself as Sunset stepped out into the street.

She didn't stop — she didn't want anyone to start shooting at her while the Councillor was still close by — she ran down the road, towards the looming building, its broken towers smoking like the topless towers of Mistral burned in The Mistraliad, and towards the roadblock that guarded it.

It was as it had been earlier that day, when she had stood on the roof of the Albright building and spied on the headquarters and the defences they had been erecting: there was a roadblock of concrete, there were troops and machine guns — and a tank parked up in front of the building itself, its array of guns pointing outwards.

Sunset could hear shooting coming from inside the headquarters; there was no sign of the two Atlesian Skyrays, so Sunset could only guess that they had dropped into the courtyard and deposited their troops within. Bold of them, but possibly easier than trying to take out any of these Valish tanks.

Tank aside, the roadblock seemed more lightly manned than it had been — or seemed to Sunset — earlier today; perhaps the Atlesian air assault had drawn troops off the roadblock and inside to defend the building.

Fortunate for us, as I thought.

One of the machine guns sat idle and unmanned, only one of them had a crew, and there was but a thin line of infantry on the roadblock, with the tank behind.

It took them a few moments to notice Sunset. Sunset had already reached out with her telekinesis, a green glow surrounding the concrete rails that cut off the road; she strained a little against the weight of them — they were certainly robust things, and she wouldn't have wanted to crash her bike or even a car into them, but her magical might far outstripped her physical strength, and she would not be balked by a couple of weighty bits of concrete and steel. As she ran forwards, hand outstretched towards the roadblock, Sunset brought her strength to bare.

The roadblock had just begun to shift when the Valish soldiers, hitherto distracted by the battle going on behind them, their eyes turned towards their own Headquarters as if they could divine the ebb and flow of the fighting through the solid wall, realised that something was happening.

They saw her, shouts rang out from the roadblock.

Sunset shoved the concrete roadblocks backwards, knocking the soldiers backwards too and onto their backs, sending them flying as — with gritted teeth — she hurled the roadblocks at the tank. They struck the angular front armour with a crash that echoed off the green metal plate, like the ringing of a gong for dinner.

The tank rocked backwards for a second, then like a sleeping dragon on its hoard awakened by the thief's approach, the turret and the great gun began to turn to track Sunset's position.

Sunset kept on running, quickening her pace, darting from one side of the road to the other. The tank fired its machine guns, one in the turret, one in a pintle-mounting on top of the turret — which opened, a soldier sticking his head out to man the gun — the guns in the sponsons bolted to the side; they all sprayed fire out at Sunset as she ran like a startled hare to try and stay one step ahead of the tracer rounds.

With Soteria in one hand, Sunset fired magic from the other, green bolts leaping from her fingertips, fired half-blindly in the direction of the tank. She let out a few bursts at the soldiers, when she could spare one, knocking them down and out before they could recover their weapons, man either machine gun, aim a rifle in her direction. Some of them were able to get shots off, to add their fire to that of the tank, but with so many bullets already flying at her, shredding the cars around her, shattering the windows of the coffee shops and CCT cafes on either side of the road, a couple of rifles really didn't make much difference. So, not all of the soldiers lay like discarded toys around the tank, nevertheless, it was for the tank that Sunset reserved most of her fire, bolt after bolt of magic bursting from her fingers.

None of them penetrated the vehicle's armour; indeed, Sunset wondered if even her strongest shot could have done that even if she'd wanted it to, but these little bolts of magic certainly could not; the green energy washing over the armour. She just hoped that the lights were distracting the crew, throwing off their aim as the turret turned this way then that, trying to track her zig-zag pathway down the road towards it.

The turret — or the crew within — gave up trying to follow her and turned the turret so that it was facing right bang down the centre of the road.

The gun fired.

Sunset, who had hoped to save her magic, teleported.

The gun roared deafeningly. The shell struck the centre of the road and obliterated it, turning the street into a crater digging down towards the water pipes and power lines beneath, the explosive power tearing through the walls of the buildings on either side and exposing the ruins within.

But Sunset had already appeared on top of the turret; she kicked the soldier manning the pintle-mounted gun, though she had to kick him twice to knock him out and send him falling down inside the tank. Sunset slammed the hatch closed with telekinesis and planted a foot on top of it. Blasts of magic flew from her hand to knock out the remaining Valish soldiers from this position.

She took a breath — she had been using quite a bit of magic lately; it was a minor miracle that she didn't feel more tired than she did. She felt … she felt weary, but not as much as she might have expected to, as if she had more magic than she had realised, as though it had grown in total amount if not in the power of the spells themselves.

Still, she needed to take a breath. She took a breath, and then she brought Soteria down upon the barrel of the tank, the venerable blade cutting into and then through the barrel, severing it from the turret. It hit the road in front of the tank with a clanging crash and rolled a few feet towards the crater it had made.

Sunset took another deep breath and gathered magic in the palm of her free hand. She held it there, gathering it, letting it wait for a few seconds, one, two, three — she tore open the hatch down into the turret and fired the magical blast straight down.

She slammed the hatch down shut again, and half-heard, half-felt the magic ricocheting off the inside of the tank, bouncing around it uncontrollably, searching for escape and finding none.

It stopped, the magic exhausted, no more sound, no more vibrations. Sunset cautiously opened the hatch and looked inside. The crew in their Valish green uniforms were all slumped in their seats or laid out on the floor of the tank.

Sunset looked around. Four corners, four roadblocks, four vehicles set around the building, and they would have heard something, so she ought to expect some sort of response from them.

One roadblock, the one to her right, was gone; the debris of the tower had fallen outside when the Atlesian airships had struck and now tank and roadblock and all accompanying soldiers were buried under a pile of grey rubble and the twisted remains of a large anti-air gun. Sunset stared at it, the wreckage of war concealing the weapon of war. It was a nasty way to go, especially for those who didn't … who hadn't invited it, except by another's voice.

In front of Sunset, protecting the northeast corner of the headquarters—

A bullet hit Sunset in the chest, knocking her backwards and off the turret. She landed on her back on the front of the hull and started to roll off it; Sunset flung out her hand and managed to grab the turret-mounted machine gun. It was hot, the heat of it burned away a scrap of her aura, but she was able to stop her descent, and she let go as soon as she'd scrabbled into a more secure position on the hull.

More bullets slammed into the back of the tank.

Sunset raised as little of her head as she could to see over the top of the turret.

In front of her, protecting the northeast corner of the headquarters, the tank had not been buried, nor had the soldiers all been stripped to defend the courtyard. It was the soldiers who were shooting at her, while their tank rolled backwards, then forwards as it began to turn its entire body in her direction; the turret swivelled too, and Sunset was left wondering whether they would fire their main gun on their own tank with their own crew inside.

Do they know the crew is still alive?

Sunset flinched as a bullet whipped past her equine ears. She ducked beneath the turret, which echoed with the sound of bullets bouncing off the armour.

Can I get them out before that other tank opens fire?

The other tank ground to a sudden stop; the turret ceased to move along with the tracks as smoke started rising out of the back.

A great deal of smoke, more of it rising every passing moment.

The top hatch opened, and the crew began to scramble out, leaping down to the ground as quick as they could and running from their vehicle towards the headquarters itself.

As the smoke turned to flame, the infantry fell back as well, taking a few last shots in Sunset's direction as they retreated to join their fellow soldiers in defence of the courtyard within.

Sunset watched the flames, wondering if the tank was going to explode. It didn't, but it did continue to burn, with no sign of the flames abating or of the plume of smoke continuing to rise up to the sky.

Is this what happens when you don't upgrade or maintain things?

Lucky for me if it is. In the circumstances, Councillor Emerald might even see it the same way.

Sunset slid off the front of the tank, landing unsteadily on the ground in front of it. She steadied herself, then picked her way forwards around the unconscious Valish soldiers, before sidling around the edge of the crater that the tank's shell had made. She looked in through the broken wall demolished by the blast: tables and chairs alike had been smashed, or else tossed aside to lie in splintered heaps upon a floor covered with dust. Thank goodness, nobody appeared to have been inside.

It was also thankful that she had left Councillor Emerald too far away to have possibly been caught by the blast.

Indeed, when Sunset rounded the corner, she found him there, just putting his scroll away.

"Councillor," Sunset said, rolling her shoulders back. "It's done."

Aspen heard the gunfire erupt out in the street; it gave his fingers pause.

He didn't look out to see what was going on — he wasn't so foolish; Miss Shimmer had asked him to stay put for a reason, and that reason was that he had no defence against bullets as she did; he could do nothing to help her — but he couldn't help but wonder.

He wondered, and he wondered at his own wondering. It had not been too long ago, after all, when he would have gladly seen Miss Shimmer dead. When the thought of her being shredded by machine guns, blown to smithereens, would have brought him great joy, and yet now…

Yet now, they were saving Vale together; not only that, but he found that he hoped she came through it alright every bit as much as he wished to come through it himself.

His only misgiving about the whole thing was that she seemed almost to have become fond of him in turn, although he would be hard put to say why. Maybe it was his son she was fond of, that would make more sense; everyone liked flattery, after all, and Bramble offered up his admiration freely.

There had been a time when Aspen hadn't liked that either, lamenting the dearth of faunus role models that his son had to alight upon Sunset Shimmer of all people to take as his hero. Now … he could certainly do better, but he could also do a lot worse.

Whether it was Aspen himself or his son or even Novo that Miss Shimmer was fond of, the fondness as a notion was … it made Aspen a little nervous, though he tried to hide the fact better than he had hidden his earlier hostility to Miss Shimmer.

It made him nervous for the same reason — for part of the same reason, at any road — that he no longer hated Miss Shimmer: because she was not a callous person, not cold and uncaring. At least … she cared about some things, some people, very much indeed; that Aspen might, for whatever reason, upon whomsoever’s behalf, be included in that circle caused him a degree of trepidation that might have surprised some.

When Aspen had first been elected as the Alderman for Richmond West and Williamsborough, his mentor, old Lord Bentinck, had taken him aside and warned him not to get too involved in constituency matters.

"Everybody wants you to help them, Aspen. Now, that's partly our own fault, because local government is so opaque that it's a lot easier for people to find out who their Alderman is than to work out how to approach the borough witan, but the fact remains that they'll turn you into some sort of glorified local handyman if you let them, filling in potholes on the roads and fixing leaky roofs in the social housing. You'll need to find it in yourself to resist that kind of thing without making yourself disliked over it. You need to rise above it, Aspen, rise above!"

"But it's not all potholes or leaky roofs," Aspen replied.

"Oh, they've gotten to you already, have they?" Lord Bentinck asked in a tone of despair. "What is it? Hospital waiting times? Someone in prison?"

"Sheltered accommodation," Aspen murmured. "There's a woman, she … she's hiding from her husband. She's hoping to get a place to stay."

"Yes, yes, it tugs on the old heartstrings, I'm sure," said Lord Bentinck breezily. "But that sort of thing isn't your job, and it'll consume all your energies if you let it. There's always a face to it, and there's always a story behind it, and you always want to help, wouldn't have a heart if you didn't. But you're not a social worker, Aspen, you're a legislator! And we can't legislate to fix the world one case at a time. We can't legislate to give a hospital bed to Mister Blue and Mrs. Green and all the shades of Yellow."

"But we can make sure there's provision in the system for everyone," said Aspen.

"At what cost, young man, who pays for it?" Lord Bentinck took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses on the edge of his scarlet smoking jacket. "If I can give you one piece of advice, young Aspen: just because it has adverse impacts, doesn't mean the system isn't working as it should, and as well as it can. Just because someone doesn't have everything they want doesn't mean we haven't struck the right balance between taxation and service provision; just because someone says there is an innocent person in prison doesn't mean there's been a miscarriage of justice; there will always be adverse impacts, someone, somewhere, will always lose out or be left unhappy, be left with less than they would like. You can't solve everyone's problems for them; you have to look up, look at Vale as a whole, in the round. The kingdom comes first, it has to; you can't put individuals — whatever their plight, however sorry you feel for them — ahead of the good of Vale; otherwise, we'll all be suffering adverse impacts soon enough."

It was a lesson that he feared Miss Shimmer, for all her regrets over her part in the Breach, had not learned, might not even be capable of learning. You couldn't put Miss Rose and Mister Arc above the kingdom, and you couldn't put Councillor Emerald above it either. You needed to look up, to look at Vale, to ignore the people and see only the realm. He wasn't sure that Miss Shimmer could do that, that she was capable of doing that.

He wasn't sure that if it came to it she would be able to put Vale over him, because she seemed to want to protect him.

Not that he objected to being protected in ordinary circumstances, but he was not as important as Vale itself. Otherwise, as Lord Bentinck had put it, they would all be suffering adverse impacts.

Just as they had before.

I must hope that she has changed.

Or that she is so skilled the question does not arise.

They were still shooting at her; so Miss Shimmer was at least sufficiently skilled to not have died yet.

Aspen finished calling General Ironwood. He was uncertain that he would get a response. General Ironwood must be quite busy in the circumstances, one of the reasons he had hesitated to try and get in touch with him earlier, another being that he was unsure if General Ironwood would think him responsible for this current mess; after all, they hadn't always seen eye to eye.

If the Atlesian general did not respond, then … he and Miss Shimmer would just have to muddle through and try not to get caught in the crossfire.

I can't just stand by and let the Atlesians storm our headquarters; that will make this look like even more of a war than it already did. I have to make it seem that they were at least acting on behalf of the legitimate Valish government.

Yet there was no response from General Ironwood. His scroll was seeking a connection and finding none.

General Ironwood was probably on call with half a dozen officers at any given moment; there was no point in waiting for him to be free. Aspen was about to hang up when he got a response.

"Councillor Emerald? I'm glad to hear from you, but I'm also a little busy at the moment—"

"Yes, busy ordering an attack on the headquarters of the Valish Defence Force, I know," Aspen said. "I'm outside there myself, with Miss Shimmer."

There was a pause. "With Sunset Shimmer?"

"Yes, she's been good enough to escort me here," Aspen replied. “She's currently dealing with a couple of obstacles on the way to the door." He flinched from an almighty explosion that sent dust showering down the road past his hiding place. "At least, I hope she still is."

"Councillor, what are you doing there?" demanded Ironwood.

"I'm here to take command of my military and order them to stop shooting at yours," Aspen replied. "So if you could tell your men not to shoot at Miss Shimmer or myself, that would be very much appreciated."

"The middle of an action is a hard time to get hold of an officer, Councillor; you should have contacted me sooner," Ironwood said. "I could have sent an airship to pick you up."

"In the circumstances, I'd rather not come flying in on an Atlesian airship, although I suppose a connection is unavoidable now," Aspen muttered. "General Ironwood, on behalf of the people of Vale, will you undertake to suppress this military uprising against the Council and protect the democratically elected civilian authorities?"

There was another pause. "I appreciate the figleaf, Councillor, but if you're hoping for anything more substantial than the resources I've already committed, I'm afraid I must decline. The grimm are about to attack the Green Line, and all my forces are needed at the front to repel them; I've nothing to spare for a street fight in Vale."

"Which is why you're hoping to cut the head off the snake."

"I'm hoping to force a Valish surrender," Ironwood told him. "If I may, Councillor, sit this one out. Have Miss Shimmer take you somewhere safe and let my people do their jobs."

"Until this situation with the Defence Force is resolved, I'm not sure there is a safe place in Vale," Aspen said. "And I'm not going to run and hide while you and yours, appreciated though your help might be, make this look like the next act in a brewing conflict, not when I can try and stop it. And besides … do you know what you're dealing with in there, General?" Do you know there's a magical creature that's controlling my soldiers and that only Miss Shimmer can defeat it?

Do you know that there's such a thing as magic?

"I do," Ironwood said, although since Aspen hadn't been very clear about what he meant — and how could he be clearer, when he barely understood what he meant himself? — that could have meant anything. "I will try to get in touch with Captain Ebi leading the assault, but I can't guarantee anything. If you're determined to do this—"

"I am," Aspen said.

"Then watch yourself, Councillor," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

He hung up.

Aspen was just in the act of putting his scroll away when Miss Shimmer appeared around the corner.

"Councillor," she said, adjusting her posture to make herself stand a little prouder. "It's done."

"Councillor," Sunset said, rolling her shoulders back. "It's done."

Councillor Emerald finished putting his scroll away. "I … how was it done, Miss Shimmer?"

"Bloodlessly, on my part, though not painlessly for all concerned," Sunset replied. "And General Ironwood?"

"Suggested that I should go, and leave this to his people," Councillor Emerald declared.

"I see," Sunset murmured. "And do you wish to go, Councillor?"

"No," Councillor Emerald said. "I will press on. I trust you have no objections to that?"

"No, Councillor, none at all," Sunset said. "If you had said otherwise, you would have put me in a very awkward position."

"I'm glad to avoid that," Councillor Emerald said dryly. "Does Ironwood know what he's up against? He said he did, but does he know about this … magical creature of yours?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. She supposed that questions like this were inevitable from the moment that she'd brought up the subject, opened up the door even a little to Councillor Emerald. That being said, perhaps she should have taken some time to prepare some answers. How much ought she to say without saying too much. How much, in the circumstances, was too much?

Professor Ozpin might say that I have said too much already.

Yes, but I've said it now, and I can't take it back. And just because Professor Ozpin believes it doesn't make it right. What should I have said else, that someone with a semblance has brainwashed the Valish Defence Force? That might not be impossible, but you'd need an awful lot of aura to keep that going on a scale like this.

The truth is … easier, in this instance; it invites fewer follow-up questions that I'd struggle to answer.

The same might be true here as well. "General Ironwood does, Councillor, yes; at least, I believe he does," Sunset replied. "His soldiers, though, I cannot answer, though I would say probably not."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Why the secrecy? How does Ironwood know, and if he knows, then how come I have to hear it from you? Does Ozpin know?"

"If General Ironwood knows, it is because he heard it from Professor Ozpin, who heard it from Cinder Fall," Sunset explained.

"And who didn't tell me," Councillor Emerald said.

"Professor Ozpin—"

"Had no right!" Councillor Emerald snapped. "No right, none at all! To keep this to himself and make his plans with Ironwood while I am left sitting in the dark, none at all!"

"Professor Ozpin warned you that General Blackthorn might not be entirely trustworthy, that you should use the police to protect critical infrastructure," Sunset reminded him. "If he had told you about magical creatures too, would you have believed it, or would it have diluted the impact of his other warnings?" She put a hand on the Councillor's shoulder and re-cast the spell to deflect notice away from him. "Now, shall we stand out here and gripe about the degree to which you were or were not kept informed on things, or shall we go and take your military back?"

"Quite right, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "I can rail at Ozpin tomorrow. Ironwood told me he might not be able to reach his people and warn them about us."

"I see," Sunset said. "Well, as Professor Ozpin once said to me, I suppose we'll manage to keep house. Don't worry, Councillor, I'll look after you."

"That comforts me and frightens me in equal measure, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset knew what he meant by that, and that knowing meant that, although to be honest it stung a little bit, she could see his point sufficiently that she didn't allow him to see that it stung. It would have been self-indulgent, all things considered, to have stood on her wounded dignity upon the point. She ought to be grateful that he trusted her as much as he did.

"Come on, Councillor," she said. "This way."

She took him by the arm as though he were a child and led him out onto the street and down it, past the bullet-riddled cars, the conveniences with the broken windows, the pockmarked wall of the Albright Foundation; she led him around the hole in the ground made by the Valish shell; and she led him past the tank that she had knocked out, to where he could see the other tank that had set itself on fire trying to move against her.

"Did you do that, Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald asked.

"No, Councillor, it did that to itself," Sunset replied lightly.

"I see," Councillor Emerald murmured dispiritedly. "If I were to say that Councils of all stripes and persuasions have taken advantage of the peace dividend to slash defence spending, would anyone care?"

"Probably not, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "I fear the multitude are a fickle herd."

"And fortune is very fickle in politics, though I would have thought we were due for some good luck."

"I think my luck was very good in that tank catching fire before it could shoot at me," Sunset couldn't help but remark. "And if our luck holds, our way in will be just as straightforward."

Nevertheless, she was not so blithe or blasé that she skipped along towards the entrance without a care in the world. Rather, having already slung Soteria back across her back, she unslung Sol Invictus and reversed the grip so that she was holding the rifle by the barrel like a club, ready to whack anyone who came to close — she thought that, for all it was likely to hurt, it might be just a little less lethal than the sword. She hoped, at least.

The entrance lay on the north side, between the tank that Sunset had knocked out and the one that had broken down so disastrously, and as they got closer, Sunset found herself getting closer and closer to the wall until she practically had her back to it.

She climbed up the handful of steps to the door — the sound of the fighting within was getting louder now — and stood beside the door. She would have expected it to be locked, except that the tank crew and their accompanying infantry had entered somehow, hadn't they?

Sunset peered around the corner, and the automatic door slid open. Beyond, there was an array of security measures in the lobby — metal detectors, sealed doors, cameras — but nobody actually monitoring any of them. Nobody was standing guard, nobody was making sure the doors stayed closed.

Beyond the sealed but transparent doors, Sunset could see tracer rounds zipping through the air, rockets or grenades exploding, what looked like quadruped robots, although she couldn't make them out in detail. It seemed, on the basis of what lay before her, that the fighting inside the courtyard was consuming all the energies of the Valish defence.

Sunset gestured for Councillor Emerald to follow her as she stepped through the open door and into a lobby with a marble floor and oak-panelled walls. A painting of the Battle of the Four Sovereigns, showing the Last King heroically leading his soldiers against the Mistralians as lightning flashed down all around them, dominated the entire of one wall; if one were being uncharitable, one might say that it depicted the last time that Valish soldiers had won any glory. On the other side of the lobby was a desk, and Sunset headed that way, guessing that it was a security desk, even though there was no security guard.

She vaulted over the desk, finding a lot of monitors displaying images from the cameras, a visitor book and visitor passes, and a button to open the sealed door. Sunset pressed it, causing a beeping sound as the door opened; she put the visitor's book on top of the button to keep the door open as she stepped around the desk and led Councillor through the metal detectors — they sounded an alarm, but no one was around to respond to it — and through the door.

Sunset found herself crouching down, and Councillor Emerald did the same. They crept more than walked to the entrance out into the courtyard.

The quiet place into which Sunset had teleported had now become a battlefield.

The two Atlesian Skyrays had landed on either side of the fountain; they were still there, doors open, and personnel were using the interior rotary cannons to provide covering fire. The Atlesian force that had disembarked from the airships didn't look large — certainly, it didn't look as large as the number of Valish defenders — but they included at least some huntsmen — or Specialists — distinguishable by their unique weapons: a fishing rod, a hammer, no weapons at all but aura alone.

The advantages of training and aura were no doubt why the Atlesians had not been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Valish opposed to them, but they looked to be struggling to break out of the courtyard in either direction. Their soldiers — not counting the huntsman — were crouched on the ground, or else taking cover around the airships, exchanging fire with the Valish.

The Valish, despite having the advantage of numbers, seemed no closer to sweeping the Atlesians out of their base than the Atlesians did of breaking through into the base interior; the Valish soldiers clung to cover at the edges of the courtyard, firing from behind the columns that lined the colonnade — those that hadn't already been destroyed, at any rate. There, they exchanged fire with the Atlesian troops.

The space in between belonged to the robots.

They were not Atlesian robots, Sunset was sure of that; if nothing else, the way that they bounded across the courtyard towards the Atlesians was, to say the least, strongly suggestive of it. They were like … Sunset was at a bit of a loss to say what they were like: four-legged, headless, faceless, with none of the effort put into residual anthropomorphism that the Atlesian battle droids possessed. Their legs had joints that bent backwards, and their bodies were boxy and black and seemed to be well-armoured, judging by the way that the bullets of the Atlesian infantry were bouncing off them. The fire from the airship cannons seemed to be having a little more impact, but even that was only staggering them, not stopping them.

What was stopping them — stopping them dead in their tracks as they tried to charge across the courtyard — were the Atlesian Specialists. The poster boy with his fishing rod hooked one and tossed it up high into the air; it fell down and half shattered on impact. A small woman with a head that was mostly shaved and some sort of powered exoskeleton on her arms moved like lightning, streaking lightning after her as she shattered robot after robot with a single punch at a time. A burly fellow with an enormous black beard cut through them with his cutlass.

But those little four-legged robots were not all the Valish had — from where? Was this Starhead Technology? Had Ruby's new benefactor come up with these? — to throw against their enemies. As Sunset watched, one of the walls of the headquarters was shattered by an enormous robotic gorilla, or some such immense ape. It had arms thicker than Sunset's shoulders, a chest covered in armour plate beaten out to resemble muscles, and even the appearance of rippling fur upon its shoulders. It beat upon its armoured chest with both immense fists, and a synthetic roar emerged from a mouth that opened and closed.

The gorilla leapt up, bullets ricocheted off its armour as one of the gunners on the Skyrays futilely opened fire upon it. It descended like an avalanche upon the bearded Specialist with the cutlass. It seemed unfeeling — it was unfeeling; it was a robot, after all — to the way the small woman beat on its side with her fist as it beat down upon the man beneath it.

The lantern-jawed Specialist with the movie-star looks hooked the robotic gorilla on the back somewhere with his fishing rod, yanking it off their comrade and dumping the robot flat on its back. A large woman, built like an agglomeration of trees — she was all trunk, no branches — brought down a hammer on it that was so big it made Nora's dread weapon look like a toy.

It still took two hits to smash the gorilla’s head to smithereens and lay it out twitching on the ground.

Sunset thought that that must — or might, at least — have been what she had heard thumping around when she had been here last, one of them anyway.

If that wasn't entirely certain, one thing was certain: she couldn't lead Councillor Emerald through this maelstrom.

But, on the other hand, she should be … somewhat grateful that the Atlesians didn't look like breaking through yet, held back by the waves of Valish robots.

A head start would be nothing to sneeze at.

Sunset grabbed Councillor Emerald by the shoulder, pulling him in towards her as though she meant to embrace him.

"Miss Shimmer?"

"Hold on tight, Councillor," Sunset said, as she envisaged … she envisaged the office where she had hidden briefly, the office with the bored or sedated or drained of emotion workers from the … Sunset couldn't remember what they'd been working on. But she remembered the office layout, she remembered where it was relative to the door, the corridor, the courtyard, and while that wasn't as good as being able to see the location, it was the next best thing.

And it would have to do.

Sunset teleported, carrying Councillor Emerald with her as they materialised with a crack and a flash of green light inside the office where Sunset had hidden earlier.

Unlike her last infiltration of this headquarters, the effects of her teleportation were not concealed by a spell.

The people in the office — one of them had a rifle in her hands; the others were armed with office utensils — stared at her.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands up?" Sunset suggested.

The woman with the rifle raised it. Sunset pushed Councillor Emerald to one side as she charged, saving her magic with a headlong rush over desks and across the room with Sol Invictus raised like a club over her head. The woman opened fire, spraying bullets on fully automatic. Sunset flung herself to the floor, letting the bullets fly overhead as she lashed out with her gun at the woman's ankles. She went down, but before Sunset could rise up, a man in a white shirt with an open collar had jumped on her, putting his sweaty hands around her neck.

Sunset hit him on the jaw. His head jerked, and he half fell, half rolled off her.

Another woman charged her with a letter opener, the small knife raised for a downward thrust. Sunset struck her with the butt of Sol Invictus, and her legs left the floor as she landed, unconscious, rear first on the floor.

Sunset did much the same to the man she saw going for the discarded gun.

Councillor Emerald picked himself up.

"Such madness," he muttered. "Is there no way to reason with them? To make them see—?"

"See what, Councillor?" Sunset asked. "I … I fear that this would not be so hard if there had not been … a hostility towards Atlas in the hearts of many before this."

Councillor Emerald thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. "Are you saying I should reflect on my part in all this Miss Shimmer?"

"I didn't say that, Councillor," said Sunset. "You didn't bring a Siren here."

"No," said Councillor Emerald. "But I didn't stand against the hostility." He paused. "Will everyone here be our enemy?"

"Not everyone, I hope, Councillor … but most," Sunset admitted.

Councillor Emerald scowled. "Well, if it must be so, then … best get it over with, I suppose. Lead on, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset opened the door ajar and looked around. There was no sign of any guards — or robotic gorillas.

Although, now that she knew what they were, that prospect was not as frightening as when it had been a vague, large menace. So long as there weren't so many of them that they used up all her—

Sunset stopped. Would robots be fooled by the spell she had cast over Councillor Emerald? She hadn't thought about it, for the simple reason that she hadn't thought about the Valish using robots, but now that she had seen that they did, now that she had been prompted to think about it … she found that the uncomfortable answer was 'probably not.' After all, robots didn't have attention, or attentiveness, or attention spans; they had no will, only sensors and programming, and so what chance had a spell telling you to look away? Robots didn't look anywhere, not in the conventional sense.

The spell might work on Penny, who was far more person than machine in what one might call the spiritual aspects, but a regular drone? A mindless automaton? They would see what mortal eyes could not.

Therefore, if she wished to take care of the Councillor, she would have to quickly take out any robots they encountered.

It was a good thing they didn't have any aura.

Since there were no robots around, or any guards, Sunset opened the door and stepped out. The sound of fighting in the courtyard behind them was clear to hear, and Councillor Emerald looked pained as he turned his head in that direction. He was contemplating, perhaps, how many Valish soldiers might be dead before the night was out.

He was a good man. Sunset hoped the people would look kindly on him.

For her own part, as rough as it was upon them, she hoped to find the interior deserted, or at least relatively so, as all the troops had been drawn into the fighting in the courtyard.

Mind, it appeared that the civilian employees had not been committed, but formed a second line of defence in case of a breakthrough.

She led Councillor Emerald through corridors that were every bit as dark as when she had been here last, beneath the cameras that would catch only fleeting half-seen glances of them, if there was anyone still watching. They took fire, at one point, from a group of people who had made a barricade out of their desks, but the area they were barricading was of no interest to Sunset, so she threw up a shield to protect Councillor Emerald until he was back in cover, then slipped away herself.

The defenders behind their barricade made no move to pursue her. They seemed to only want to hold their ground. Sunset guessed that they, like the occupants of the office into which she had teleported, were civilian workers in the defence ministry.

The anti-Atlesian zeal which the Siren had inspired in them was warring with their natural desire for self-preservation.

The robots they came across next did not have a sense of self-preservation. There were three of them, the little quadrupeds with their black armoured carapaces, looking like overgrown beetles in the dim light of the corridor.

Dark things for a dark corridor, vague silhouettes that spoke of menace, with no detail to be seen.

Though the battle outside could still be heard, it was not so loud now, and it was equally possible to hear the squeaking and the whirring and the scratching the robots made as they bounded rapidly forwards.

Sunset felt something hit her, something small but sharp, a needle into her aura.

The aura that they didn’t have.

Sunset focused on the first thing that came to mind and shot a trio of bolts of magic out at the robots.

Each one was struck, and each one was transformed into a multicoloured plastic beetle, like the ones Sunset and Princess Celestia had competed to assemble in that game they'd played.

Three little insects, with detachable legs and heads and antennae and everything else, sat on the floor. They looked kind of cute, a marked improvement over the robots.

"A very versatile semblance," Councillor Emerald muttered.

Sunset didn't reply. It wouldn’t be a productive discussion to have, even — or especially — if he was suspicious. She bent down and snatched one of the insects — it had a blue plastic body — up off the floor and put it into her jacket pocket before she kept on moving.

The elevator was guarded, and by soldiers, not civilians, soldiers who had nevertheless barricaded the position with overturned desks to give themselves some cover. Sunset's telekinesis enabled her to turn their barricade against them, lifting up their cover and making a weapon of it for herself. Once she had lain out the whole squad, she piled up the desks out of the way and approached the lift.

"Is it safe to use that?" asked Councillor Emerald, a touch of tremulousness creeping into his voice. "They won't be waiting for us at the bottom?"

Sunset hesitated. She couldn't say that it wasn't a concern, but at the same time, "If they knew we were coming, I think they would have more of a response to stop us. So far, we've come across nothing that we could not have encountered by accident: roving patrols, guards at a key point. But they didn't get the chance to signal for help."

Councillor Emerald was silent for half a moment before he said, "That makes sense. Alright then. Let's go."

Before they could go anywhere, Sunset first had to summon the lift, which took a while. As they waited, as the numbers above the door climbed slowly up and up and up towards them, Sunset found herself looking around furtively, anxious that another patrol — of robots, or worse, of humans who might be able to raise the alarm — might stumble across them.

They didn't. No one came, no soldiers, no little quadrupedal robots, no one.

The only thing that came for them was the elevator, its doors opening with a thrumming, rolling sound and a ping of notification.

The two of them shuffled inside. Sunset pushed the button for the bottom floor, and their descent commenced.

"When we get down there," Sunset said. "I will have to … fight hard. You should find somewhere safe to hide until I'm done, then you can broadcast to the people the way that General Blackthorn did."

"Somewhere safe to hide," muttered Councillor Emerald. "And … what if you lose, Miss Shimmer?"

"Then in death, I will be spared the anger of your son, Councillor," Sunset replied dryly. "But, though I don't deny this battle will be difficult, I don't mean to lose it."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Sunset smiled. "I have a plan, Councillor." She had the makings of a plan, at least, though that would not be so reassuring to the Councillor's ears. She looked down at her hand. Once she had dealt with Cinder, then…

The lift stopped. The doors opened. There was no one waiting on the other side, no firing squad, no giant, looming robot. There was only the darkness and the corridors that Sunset had traversed before.

She led Councillor Emerald in her footsteps, down corridors that seemed even more deserted than they had been previously, with no one on guard, no one to keep watch or to bar access. Had they really sent everyone up top to fight? Had the Atlesian attack, like a maelstrom, sucked everyone into it?

What would they find when they arrived at the command centre?

They would soon find out, for they were nearly there; it would not be long. They were almost at the point where Cinder—

A glass arrow slammed into the wall.

“It’s Sunset Shimmer, isn’t it?” the Siren called. “Why don’t you stop skulking around there in the dark and come out so we can get to know each other? And … yeah, why don’t you bring your friend out with you?”

Author's Note

There will be no new chapter on Friday as I'm away, the next chapter will be next Monday, 15th April

The Last Duel (New)

The Last Duel

Sunset froze.

They knew she was here.

Well, of course they know that I'm here; they weren't calling out for the sake of it.

Or … maybe they—?

"Oh Sunset?" the Siren called out in a sing-song voice. "Sunset?"

No, she's not just testing the waters. She knows I'm here.

Did she sense the spell masking Councillor Emerald? But then, the last time that she sensed that, she thought it turned out to be nothing — Cinder kept my secret — so how could she be so sure that it was something now? And how would she know it was me?

Does it really matter? Isn't the important thing that she knows I'm here?

Yes. Yes, it was. Knowing the how of it might be … interesting, to some people, but it paled in comparison to the brute fact of Sunset's discovery.

Of the discovery of Sunset and Councillor Emerald. How certain could she be that the Councillor was here? How could she be sure that Sunset wasn't alone? She could, it seemed, pick up on Sunset's magic, at least when it was being used in that way, but she'd already demonstrated that she didn't know what it was. It tingled on her senses, but she didn't know that it was magic, not for sure; she didn't know that it was concealment, she didn't know who was really there. She hadn't known that Sunset was there, only thought someone might be, and she had been convinced by Cinder that she had imagined it. That had been Sunset's hope in coming back here: that, having sensed something once and been told that it was nothing, the Siren would dismiss the sensation if it returned again. Sunset had hoped that it would be like smelling smoke: if you checked everywhere and couldn't find a fire, then you probably wouldn't check again even if the smell persisted — not that day, anyway.

Evidently, Sunset's hope had been misplaced in that regard.

I brought Councillor Emerald into danger.

He brought himself into danger; I came with him to make it a little less dangerous.

She looked behind her at the Councillor, who was as frozen as Sunset was, staring at her, his face still and hard to read, especially in this lack of light.

Sunset motioned with one hand for him to stay still, stay where he was. The Siren couldn't be certain that he was sure, couldn't be sure. She thought there was someone else with Sunset, but she couldn't know that. If Cinder would keep faith with her again, then the Councillor might yet escape detection until it was done.

Sunset straightened up and walked the rest of the way down the corridor, emerging around the corner that had been her hiding place before, stepping into the command centre, the heart of the Valish Defence Force.

In a room that was full of people, few of them marked her. Most of those present were staring at the monitors and consoles that lined the walls, some of them occasionally tapping away, not doing a great deal, Sunset had to admit. There was a door open on the right-hand side of the room, and more light was coming in from that doorway than the rest of the building put together, it seemed. There were a couple of guards and a couple of officers who were not actively working at any of the consoles, amongst them General Blackthorn. The guards were looking at Sunset, and the Valish General turned his attention towards her briefly, a sneer of contempt crossing his face, before he returned his attention to the monitors.

But it didn't matter if most of the people in the room weren't paying any attention to Sunset because Cinder was there, standing in the middle of the dark chamber, and Cinder was looking right at Sunset.

Just as she had done before, but Sunset was starting to doubt that she would get so lucky a second time.

Cinder stared at her and said nothing. Despite the lack of light, the obsidian blade in her hands yet managed to glisten.

"Cinder," Sunset murmured.

Cinder didn't reply.

The Siren stuck her head out from behind Cinder; her lustrous ponytail drooped down towards the floor. "Hey there!" she cried. "It's nice to finally meet you at last! I'm Sonata Dusk—"

"Charmed," Sunset muttered.

"—and I know who you are, obviously," Sonata said. She smiled, a wicked thing that showed too many teeth, like the smile of a shark. "Yes, I know all about you."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "I doubt that very much."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sonata said. She started to step out from behind Cinder as she went on, "I know that you're from Eques—"

Sunset raised her hand, a bolt of magic shooting from her palm towards Sonata. Cinder raised her own hand in turn, and Sunset's bolt went wild, careening off to one side to slam into a monitor just to the left of a Valish soldier. The monitor exploded, making the soldier jump as sparks flew and shards were scattered across the floor.

Someone grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed the destroyed monitor; they didn't look at Sunset while they worked; they just got on with it.

You deflected it? Cinder, what are you doing?

Sonata had retreated back behind the safety of Cinder's body. "That was close," she said, her hands on Cinder's waist as she peeked out from behind her. "Thank you, Cinder; I don't know what I'd do without you."

A wordless growl rose from Sunset's throat. "What have you done to her? Cinder, step aside; leave her to me!"

Cinder's face twitched. Her muscles seemed to be warring with her will as a momentary scowl appeared upon her face, then faded away again. She did not move, nor did she speak to Sunset.

"Cinder isn't going to do that, are you, Cinder?" Sonata asked. "Cinder's my … pet."

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl as she took a step forward, hands knotting into fists.

Cinder raised her black blade, pointing it at Sunset.

Sunset came to a halt. "Cinder!"

"Cinder, Cinder," Sonata repeated mockingly. She giggled. "Cinder can't answer the door right now, Sunset Shimmer."

"What have you done?" Sunset snarled. "How could you do this to her?!"

"What did I do?" asked Sonata. "I sang her a song. Just a song. A song about wrath and anger and vengeance, a song that she preferred to any melody of yours."

Sunset shook her head. "Cinder," she said. "Cinder, come on, you … I know you're in there. I know your strength, I know the fire that burns within you, I have felt it! I know who you are. You're … you're better than this! You are Cinder Fall, no one's slave—"

"'No one's slave'?" Sonata repeated. She cackled with laughter. "A slave is all she's ever been. She was a slave to her stepmother, a slave to Salem, and now, she's a slave to me—"

"No!" Sunset cried. "You are yourself, always yourself, to no one's will beholden but your own. Cinder, you can fight this, you can beat it—"

"The way that she beat Pyrrha?" Sonata asked. "The way that she beat Team Sapphire? Let's face it; this girl doesn't have a great win record, does she?"

"Then what do you want with her?" Sunset demanded.

"Well, she's got potential, I'll give you that. Potential that she's never used, potential that she's held back by the limits that she's put on herself. I think that she might be able to do a whole lot more without those limits." Sonata stroked Cinder, running her hands up Cinder's side and down again to her thigh and touching upon the back skin of her leg where her red dress ended. "Plus, it's nice to have a big, strong girl around the house. You never know when you might need one." She smirked. "Or enjoy one."

"Don't you—"

"Oh, now you're gonna pretend that you care what happens to her?" Sonata asked. "That you care what's done to her? You didn't care last night, did you?"

"'Last night'?" Sunset repeated. "I … we spared her life."

"She wanted to die, you idiot; what do you think she was doing?" Sonata demanded. "She wanted to die — which sounds pretty stupid, I gotta admit, but it was what she wanted — and you know, if you had killed her, she wouldn't be here now. Because, you know, she'd be dead. But you didn't want to do that. You couldn't give her what she wanted; you didn't even care to try. You just turned your back on her and left her for me. Didn't she, Cinder?"

Cinder bared her own teeth now, bared them like a hound at Sunset as she nodded.

"But don't worry," Sonata said. "I'll take better care of Cinder than you ever did."

"Let her go."

"Bored now," Sonata said. "Bored of talking about Cinder anyway; is that really what you want to talk about? Too bad, let's talk about you; actually, no, first, let's talk about who your friend is and where they are."

"I'm alone," Sunset said.

Sonata chuckled as she looked up at the dark ceiling. "Has anyone ever treated you like an idiot?" she asked.

"No," Sunset said.

"Sometimes, it's nice," Sonata said. "Sometimes, it's easy to be treated like you're stupid, like you just don't get it, like you could never possibly amount to anything. It's nice and easy because the people who think of you that way will never see you coming." She put a hand on Cinder's shoulder, stroking her back and forth. "Will they, Cinder?" She chuckled again. "But there are other times, I gotta say, when it's really kind of annoying, and you want it to stop."

The smile faded from her face. "Don't treat me like an idiot. I know you've got someone else back there; I know that you're hiding them with Equestrian magic, the same magic that you used to hide them, or yourself, or someone else a little while ago, when Cinder covered for you because she's a bad girl. I had to sing her another song to make sure that didn't happen again." The smile returned to her face. "So either they get out here, or Cinder is going to fill that whole corridor with flame, and we'll see if your magic protects them from it."

Sunset raised her hands, both of them wreathed in green as she prepared to conjure up a shield to cover the corridor from the flames. "Yes, let's see that, why don't we?"

Sonata stared at her. Then she pouted as her raspberry eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "Okay, I'll … you've got me with that one, I guess." The smirk returned to her face. "How's it going retaking the battleship, General Blackthorn?"

"Marines and armed crew are moving to storm the bridge now," General Blackthorn replied. "Until then, we're still in control of the entire remainder of the vessel."

"Including all the guns, right?" Sonata asked.

"That's correct."

"Alrighty then," Sonata said. "How about this? Either your friend comes out right on a count of three, or I'll suggest to General Blackthorn here that it would be a good idea to start dropping shells on Vale?"

"He wouldn't," Sunset said.

"Oh, you'd be amazed at what these boys will do for me," Sonata said. "One—"

"Wait!" Councillor Emerald cried as he emerged from around the corridor with his hands up. "Wait, please. Don't shoot. There's no need. Here I am."

Sonata's eyes widened. "Aspen Emerald the First Councillor! Wow! I don't know who I was expecting, but I was not expecting this! It's an honour for you to be in my presence."

"Who are you talking to?" General Blackthorn asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, right, yeah," Sonata said. "Take the spell off."

"Why would I do that?" Sunset demanded.

"Oh, General—"

"Okay, okay!" Sunset snapped, shuffling over to Councillor Emerald and placing a hand upon his shoulder. "I told you to stay where you were."

"And I told you, Miss Shimmer, that my own life mattered little compared to the good of Vale," Councillor Emerald replied.

And how are you helping the good of Vale, exactly? Sunset thought as she dispelled the enchantment that she had placed upon him.

The Valish soldiers cried out in surprise as, to them, Councillor Emerald suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They raised their rifles, training them upon the Councillor.

"Wait!" Sonata cried. "Wait, wait, wait, there's no need to shoot him—"

"He is a traitor to Vale—" General Blackthorn began.

"Yet," Sonata said. "No need to shoot him yet." She licked her lips. "So, what was your plan, exactly? The two of you were going to come down here and … what? Order General Blackthorn to stand down in the name of the First Councillor?"

"Something like that," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Or persuade him to step back from this insanity."

Sonata giggled. "Did she not tell you what I was?"

"Miss Shimmer told me you were a magical creature," Councillor Emerald said. "But I thought that surely … General Blackthorn! You can think what you like about me, you can disagree with my decisions, disdain me all you like, expose me to the people if you wish, but to fire on the city of Vale? Upon your own people? On the word of this … girl! You're a soldier of Vale, an officer; how can you do this?"

"I don't need traitor scum to lecture me upon my duty to Vale," General Blackthorn declared coldly.

"On the night when you send soldiers into the streets threatening to shoot anyone who stirs out of doors, on the night that you order one of your ships to fire upon the Atlesians, it appears you do," Councillor Emerald snapped. "Martial law? Curfew? War with Atlas?" He looked around. "You are all soldiers of Vale! This is your kingdom! Your city! Damn it, doesn't that mean anything to any of you?"

"Vale will be stronger for this," General Blackthorn said. "Hard men produce good times, but good times produce weak men." He looked at Councillor Emerald. "We have grown weak indeed, and the weak men have produced hard times for Vale. Well, out of these hard times, we will produce strong men who will bring about a strong kingdom, proud and self-reliant and—"

"And burned in the fires of Atlesian bombs?" Councillor Emerald demanded. "Overrun by grimm? Gods, man, we should be thanking all our lucky stars that General Ironwood is only attacking this base, that he's only destroyed one ship, not sought to carry retribution into every corner of the city!"

"You're wasting your breath on him, Councillor," Sunset said. "She's the one you should be speaking to." She nodded towards Sonata. "Do you actually believe any of the things you've got him saying? Do you really think that Vale can win a war with Atlas? What's your plan here?" And what does it have to do with the Relic? She thought, but didn't ask because there should probably still be some secrets that Councillor Emerald wasn't privy to.

"Of course they can!" Sonata declared. "The gallant sons and daughters of Vale are going to take their city back from everyone who's ever tried to keep it down, inside and out. There's a camera through that door, and a broadcast feed. General Blackthorn is going to take the First Councillor through there, and he's going to confess to helping cover up what you did, you naughty, naughty girl. And then the noble general will execute the traitor—"

"Over my dead body," Sunset said.

Sonata shrugged. "If you insist."

"You do realise that the Atlesians are about to break through and get down here," Sunset said. "Or do you think your brainwashed Valish soldiers can hold them off?"

"I don't know what's going to happen," Sonata said. "But maybe I'll sing to them next."

"You don't care who wins, do you?" Sunset declared. "The chaos is all you want, the fighting, the anger, the despair. You just want to dance in the ashes while the fires spread."

"You said that, not me," Sonata replied. "But what do you want, Sunset Shimmer? What's an Equestrian doing all the way out here? What do you want?"

"Why don't you stop hiding behind Cinder, and I'll show you what I want to do?" Sunset growled.

"Okay, so you were planning to— right, gotcha, that actually makes sense," Sonata said, pointing at her. "It was kinda stupid of you to come down here all by yourself, but I can see why you did it. I bet a smart unicorn like you has a spell to cover her ears if I start singing, don't you?"

Sunset didn't reply. There was no reason to show Sonata all her cards.

Sonata huffed. "Fine. But you know, it doesn't have to be this way. You could, work with me here … work with me here? You and me, Equestrians, sticking together, could make a pretty sweet team?" She beamed eagerly.

"I could make a pretty sweet meal for you, you mean," Sunset said.

"Well, as my partner, you wouldn't be so selfish as to keep all of that delicious Equestrian magic to yourself, obviously, but you wouldn't be like this!" Sonata cried, tapping Cinder on the hip. "You'd still be you. I mean, let's not pretend you're a hero or anything. I don't know why you came here or who sent you, but I know that nopony comes from Equestria to this dump except because they got kicked out or they're running from something. And I know what you did. I know that you've already betrayed this city once."

"Once," Sunset admitted. "Doesn't mean I'll do it again."

"Why not?" Sonata demanded. "What's here for you?"

"The tattered shreds of my integrity," Sunset said. "And my ability to sleep at night."

Sonata rolled her eyes. "Boring."

"Also the fact that you seem so thoroughly obnoxious that I already wanted to stuff my ears up so I don't have to listen to you anymore," Sunset said. "The thought of spending a prolonged period of time in your presence makes me wish for a slow and painful death at the hands of the grimm."

"Well, that's just rude!" Sonata said. "It's fine if you want to say no, but there's no need to be like that about it! Honestly, that was … wow, was that uncalled for." Sonata ducked back behind Cinder. "Cinder, kill her for me. And make it slow and painful like she wants."

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back. "Step away, Councillor," she said. "This is likely to get … a little unrestrained."

"Keep your eyes on him, fellas," Sonata said. "Leave Sunset to Cinder."

"Guns on the Councillor, men," General Blackthorn commanded. "Ensure the traitor doesn't escape."

Sunset didn't look, but out of the corner of her eye, she could just about make out Councillor Emerald sidling along the wall away from her. The Valish soldiers were aiming at him — even the younger officers had drawn their sidearms — but so long as they didn't shoot, and so long as Sunset could get past Cinder to deal with Sonata, then he should, if all went well, be fine.

If all went well.

If Sunset could get past Cinder to get at Sonata.

If.

Cinder took a step towards her; her eyes were fully green, all trace of the smouldering amber colour gone from them, buried.

"You don't want to do this, Cinder," Sunset said. "I know you don't. Come on, Cinder, I know you can hear me!"

"Are you sure about that?" asked Sonata.

"Yes, I am!" Sunset shouted. "And you must be too, or you wouldn't be keeping Cinder as this … this puppet, for you to move around at your convenience, to do as you say and nothing more."

Sonata chuckled. "Then why don't we see what Cinder has to say about that, huh?" She started to hum. Sunset cast the spell to muffle her ears, because she didn't trust Sonata not to try and ensnare her with her Siren powers. She'd have to be a fool to trust Sonata that way. Instantly, her ears were filled with a ringing, all other sounds driven away, smothered beneath the ringing like that sickly green light that smothered the amber of Cinder's eyes.

The amber that returned to Cinder's eyes. There was still green there, a ring of green around her eyes, but Sunset could see the amber too, just as she had when she had seen Sunset and lied about it to Sonata.

Sunset smiled, certain that Sonata had made a mistake — a mistake for which she would pay dearly.

Cinder said something to her; Sunset could see her lips moving, even though she couldn't hear the words. Cinder paused for a moment, as though she were expecting an answer. When none was forthcoming, her brow furrowed, she cocked her head a little to one side.

Sonata stuck her head out from behind Cinder; her mouth was shut, and she mimed zipping up her lips.

Sunset dropped the spell, ready to pick it up again the moment Sonata started to sing once more.

She didn't. Instead, it was Cinder who spoke, for the first time — to Sunset — since last night, when Sunset, Pyrrha, and Professor Ozpin had interviewed her.

"Hello, Sunset," she said.

Sunset's smile widened. "Cinder—"

"What are you smiling about?" Cinder snapped. "Are you so confident in your victory that you grin like a loon before the first stroke falls?"

"Confident in my…" Sunset repeated, as the smile faded from her face. "Cinder, we don't have to do this. You don't have to do this, you can fight this, I know that you can, you've done—"

"Perhaps I can," Cinder declared, cutting Sunset off once again. She twirled her black glass sword in both hands. She grinned wolfishly as she went on, "But, in the circumstances, I think I'd rather fight you."

That had not been what Sunset had been hoping for, or even expecting. Her eyes widened. "You … you want this?"

"Always," Cinder whispered, her voice a gentle caress even as they discussed the prospect of more forceful contact to come. "I think that, since the night we met, there's been a part of me that has wanted this: to cross swords with you, to see which of us is the stronger. Don't you feel the same way, don't you want to find out?"

"I already know the answer," Sunset said softly. "I don't want to fight you, and I certainly don't want to fight you on the orders of that thing cowering behind you!"

"Harsh," said Sonata.

Sunset ignored her. "She … she's wrong, in what she said. You must have heard her, calling you a slave, saying that that's all you'd ever been; well, she's wrong. You're not a slave; you're more than that, so much—"

"Silence!" Cinder roared, flames springing up out of the side of her right eye. Her whole body trembled. "Do not … don't pretend, don't you dare pretend that you care about me, don't seek to play upon my feelings—"

"I do care," Sunset said. "I care about you."

"You left me!" Cinder bellowed, taking a step in Sunset's direction. Sunset retreated back a step in turn. "You…" Cinder shook her head from side to side. "You left me. I sought a death last night. A good death, a noble death—"

"There's no such thing as a noble death," Sunset muttered. "Dead is dead, and any one as cold as all the rest."

"So instead, you left me alive," Cinder growled. "To be caged, to be humiliated, to be hauled before the baying mob; instead of a swift end by a swift sword, you condemned me to a show trial and slow death for the gratification of the crowds. You left me to that. You took what you wanted, you turned around and walked away, and you left me, to—" She stopped, her whole body tensing, her face constricting into a pained snarl.

I left you to Sonata. To this.

"I … I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Cinder, I had no idea that … I should have realised that … I didn't want to see you die."

"You mean you didn't want my blood on your hands, but you were perfectly willing to turn your back and let it stain someone else’s?" Cinder demanded. "Such care, such compassion; truly, your heart overflows with the milk of kindness."

"I am a coward, I own it, but my feelings—"

"You had more concern for Amber last night than you had for me—"

"I offered you all of myself!" Sunset yelled. "I offered myself up to you! In the Forever Fall, after we had escaped from Merlot's tunnels. Come away with me, I said; let me help you, I said; let me heal you, I said; I was going to take you to my home! I was going to leave everything behind, and everyone! FOR YOU! I offered it all to you, and you … you refused me! You!" she repeated, jabbing her finger in Cinder's direction. "You wouldn't have it, you wanted to … I don't even know what you wanted, to kill Pyrrha? To get yourself killed in the glorious old Mistralian tradition? To bend your knee and back for Salem, to do her work until she'd used you up and thrown you away? Maybe I should have let Ruby cut you open last night, maybe that would have been a kinder fate than this, but I'm not the one who decided to start a fight in the middle of the street, and I'm not the one who decided to … don't come at me like I didn't give you a chance. I gave you more than that. You made this cage for yourself as much as anyone else made it for you."

Silence fell in the darkened command centre. Cinder stared at her, eyes wide.

As her anger faded, Sunset began to realise that not all of that outburst had been particularly wise in the circumstances; however true it might have been — and it was true; whatever mistakes Sunset might have made, she wasn't about to stand there and act as though she'd never given Cinder a chance to turn things around — even a Cinder who was not in thrall to a Siren was not likely to be impressed by it.

"Cinder, I—"

"Enough," Cinder grunted. She half turned away from Sunset, clutching at her head with one hand. The fire around her eye died down and disappeared from sight. "Enough," she repeated as she looked at Sunset once again, straightened up, and gripped her glass sword in both hands once more. "Enough talk. Let us speak not with the words you weave like silver, but with our blades which do the night resemble, here in this place that is as black as night."

And my emotional state which is becoming more sable by the moment, Sunset thought.

"Siren song has not robbed you of your eloquence, then?" she asked.

If Cinder had smiled at that — or even smirked at it — then Sunset would have had hope; as it was, she only bared her teeth in Sunset's direction. She drew in a deep breath. "Goodbye, Sunset," she said.

She raised her sword up above her head.

Soteria leapt from Sunset's grip, held by telekinesis instead of hands. The green glow of Sunset's magic surrounded the hilt of the black blade, hurling it through the air towards Cinder's heart.

Cinder parried. Soteria leapt away, Sunset manoeuvring the sword with a deftness that her hands and feet could not have managed as the black blade danced around Cinder, assailing her from this direction, then from that, from above or from so far below it was swiping at Cinder's ankles; Cinder turned, ducked, dived, parried again and again; while Soteria preoccupied her, Cinder's attention was off Sunset herself.

Sunset prepared a battery of magical spears as quickly as she could; she had to be quick because though Cinder might not notice them, Sonata might, and they were aimed at Sonata. Sunset flung them when they were still half-formed, flickering spears of magic lancing through the air towards the Siren.

If Sunset could only get her, then—

Sonata yelped as the half-formed spears descended on her, throwing herself to the floor as the magical missiles slammed into the wall behind her; half-formed or not, they were still powerful enough to wreck consoles, shatter monitors, blow chunks out of the wall behind them.

Sonata scampered for the open door with the light spilling out of it. "I'll be in here if you need me!" she cried, chuckling nervously as she hurled herself through the open doorway; she didn't shut it, but Sunset lost sight of her, wherever she was in the next room.

She cursed inwardly. There goes my best chance.

She flung Soteria at Cinder once again.

Cinder caught the blade with one hand, closing her fingers around the black sword.

Sunset pulled at the ancient weapon, but Cinder had a vice-like grip around it; though the edges must be biting sharply into her aura, she clung on.

She clung on, and Sunset could see the inside of her hands begin to glow where she held the sword as Cinder used her semblance on it.

She's going to melt the sword. She's going to break it like she did Crocea Mors.

She didn't. Instead, Cinder flung Soteria back down to skid across the floor and halt at Sunset's feet.

"I'm not in the mood for cheap tricks, Sunset," she said. "And I'm not a nuisance for you to distract while you get on with your real work; right here, and now, in this place, and at this moment, I am your real work, your only work. Take this seriously. Take me seriously. I have that right."

Sunset levitated the sword back up into her hand. "Believe me," she muttered. "I'm taking you very seriously." Why do you think I wanted to cheat to try and remove the need for us to fight?

Cinder smiled, and as she smiled, the fire returned to her eyes, the corona of the Fall Maiden, or the half of the powers that Cinder had stolen. She let her sword slip into just one hand while a fire erupted in the other about a foot high, the flames flickering and dancing upon her palm.

The firelight danced in Cinder's eyes as she stared at it for a moment. "And so am I," she said as she flung the fireball at Sunset.

Sunset held up one hand, conjuring a shield around her upon which the fireball dissipated.

Cinder's black-painted lips curled upwards. She flung out her hand, and a jet of golden fire, like a dragon's flame, poured out of her hand towards Sunset. It flowed around Sunset's shield like water around a rock in the middle of the stream; it engulfed her, hiding Councillor Emerald, the command centre, and even Cinder herself from Sunset's sight. The whole world was gone; there was only the fire that surrounded her shield, that beat upon it, that sought to devour it. The shield held firm, but Sunset could feel it consuming more and more of her magic to retain it in the face of Cinder's assault.

Sunset regretted that she couldn't warn Councillor Emerald to get down; if he'd heard her, then it simply would have warned Cinder too. She burst her shield, turning it outwards in an eruption of energy that spread out in all directions, hurling the flames aside, knocking back Cinder and Councillor Emerald — Sunset hoped he wasn't too badly hurt; she could only console herself with the knowledge that he'd told her to put Vale's interests ahead of his own — and the Valish soldiers in the room with them as well, at least those that weren't too far away.

Cinder was thrown against the damaged wall behind her. Sunset started to run for the door, the door behind which Sonata waited, and while she ran, she flung bolts of magic from her fingertips, striking the Valish soldiers before they could recover themselves or get in her way; those that were down, she made sure stayed down; those that weren't down yet, she put down; even General Blackthorn fell unconscious before her magic as Sunset sprinted for the door. If she could just get to Sonata, then—

Sunset felt herself grabbed from behind, strong arms enveloping her for a moment, lifting her up off the floor — her legs kicked futilely — before throwing her aside, into the far wall of the command centre, where her head slammed into a monitor or something or other; the glass cracked before Sunset fell backwards, tail first onto the floor.

She scrambled upright to find Cinder facing her once again. She'd recovered just a tad too quickly from the blast, it seemed.

I should have teleported in there.

Teleported where? I don't know what's on the other side of that door. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to hit all the Valish soldiers if I'd done that.

Would that have mattered?

Possibly, if I couldn't deal with Sonata instantly.

"You said," Cinder growled, "that you were going to take me seriously."

"I'm not sure I can beat you," Sunset said. "Isn't that serious enough?"

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she said. One corner of her lip rose. "But please, don't let that stop you."

Her glass sword shattered in her hand, obsidian shards swirling around her like visible air currents before some of the shards reformed into a dagger in her hand.

Cinder didn't take her eyes off Sunset for a moment as she threw the dagger, which slammed into the floor just in front of Councillor Emerald's hand as he reached for the rifle of one of the unconscious Valish soldiers.

"The next one," Cinder declared magisterially, "will go through your head. Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate."

"It's alright, Councillor," Sunset said. "I've got this."

"You tell me you're not sure you can win, you tell the Councillor everything will be fine," Cinder murmured. "Hurrah for consistency."

Sunset didn't reply, except for charge at Cinder, Soteria drawn back above her head.

Cinder rushed to meet her, her own sword pulled back for a slashing stroke in turn.

The two came together like rival bulls, trampling across the field in their eagerness to reach one another, heads bowed and horns at the ready, but before the two clashed, Sunset teleported behind Cinder, letting her rush forward into empty air. Sunset turned, bringing her black sword down on Cinder's back—

Cinder turned too fast, faster than Sunset, her black hair flying around her as she spun like a top to parry Sunset's stroke. Black steel and black glass clashed with a ring before Sunset drew back. Cinder followed up, slashing at Sunset from high and then from low. Sunset managed to parry both, retreating towards the door.

Cinder seemed to look over Sunset's shoulder, noticing the door there, and she began to attack only from the left, forcing Sunset to shift rightwards, to move away from the door and towards the centre of the room.

Cinder twirled theatrically, her skirt rising as it whirled around her, purely to show that she could, that she was so fast that she could pull a stunt like that and Sunset still couldn't land a blow on her.

The worst part was she was right; she parried Sunset's attempt to take advantage of the turn with an ease that she made look effortless.

I might as well try and fight Pyrrha with the sword as try and win this way.

Sunset loosened her arms, almost willing her strength to leave them; when Cinder struck her sword, Sunset did not resist; she let Cinder sweep the blade out of her hands with a ringing stroke.

Sunset raised her hand and blasted a bolt of magic straight at Cinder's chest.

This close, Cinder had no chance of deflecting it with her semblance; it hit her squarely where Sunset meant it to, blasting Cinder backwards like a ragdoll, slamming her into the wall.

Sunset advanced on Cinder, firing a second blast from her palm, and then a third. The second hit her, making her writhe as though she'd just been shocked, but the third turned abruptly away from Cinder to burn through the wall nearby.

Cinder's teeth were bared in a vicious snarl as she launched herself at Sunset, flames burning from her hands and feet to propel her like a rocket. She closed the distance almost instantly to slam bodily into Sunset, bearing her backwards into the corridor from which Sunset had emerged not long ago. The two of them crashed into the wall, but Sunset felt as though her aura took far more of the brunt than Cinder's did. Cinder's eye was aflame, not only the corona of the Maiden, but her eye itself seemed to be burning brighter with an inner fire as she grabbed Sunset and turned her around.

Sunset struggled and squirmed in her grip, but Cinder was stronger than she was, and more physically accomplished. Sunset tried to blast her with more magic from point blank, but Cinder had her by the wrists and kept them well away from her.

Indeed, that was part of the reason she was manhandling Sunset like this, to remove her ability to use magic in that way.

Sunset found herself forced to the ground, in spite of her struggles, hands pinned down in front of her, Cinder straddling her back, one hand around Sunset's neck.

"Here comes a monster to gobble you up."

No, Cinder just wants to kill me.

Sunset felt the hand around her neck begin to burn, fire lapping at her neck, licking at her chin and at her fiery hair as if to teach it the difference between mere red and gold and real fire. Sunset squirmed, she struggled, she writhed and wriggled, but Cinder's grip was too strong, her pressure too great, Sunset could not escape.

But she could still use magic, just not in the form of direct attacks.

Her hands glowed green; if Cinder noticed, then she didn't react; perhaps she felt that burning through Sunset's aura was the best response she could make.

Sunset fumbled with her telekinesis as the flames devoured her protection. She could feel it dropping, feel the heat of the fire, feel the discomfort that was nevertheless only a fraction of the discomfort that she would feel if her aura broke. So she groped with her magic, feeling for the guns of the Valish soldiers where they lay on the ground.

She felt them, a rifle, and then another. Sunset winced at the heat that licked at her neck as she lifted the rifles up into the air and aimed them, she hoped, at Cinder.

Telekinetically, she pulled the triggers.

Bullets thudded into the floor; it was hard to aim properly without being able to see what she was aiming at, but Sunset could tell by her wincing that at least some of the rounds were hitting home.

Cinder let go of Sunset’s neck, and Sunset felt the Valish guns ripped from her telekinesis and flung across the command centre; Sunset guessed that Cinder had hit them with a wave of fire, the impact force of her magic overwhelming Sunset’s own.

But just as Sunset’s magical grip on the guns was lost, Cinder’s physical grip on Sunset’s wrists had also loosened a little, loosened enough for her to free her right hand.

She grabbed hold of her own left wrist and, with a touch of her aura, activated the last remaining lightning dust infused into the metal vambrace.

There wasn’t a lot in there — she hadn’t had the opportunity to replace the dust that she’d already used; it wasn’t as much as there normally would have been — but it was enough, enough to see yellow lightning rippling up Cinder’s arm, snapping and snarling and tearing at her aura. It was enough to make her recoil, jerking and twitching.

It was enough to let Sunset throw her off, rolling away as she fired another bolt of magic from her palm. Cinder managed to dodge that one, letting the magic fly past her shoulder into the ceiling, but it was enough of a distraction to let Sunset put some distance between the two of them.

Sunset summoned Soteria into her right hand and then put her telekinesis to work frantically undoing the strap that kept her left — and now wholly discharged — vambrace on.

Cinder summoned her glass weapons back into her hands, forming two blades now instead of one: a pair of glass scimitars. Flames leapt up both swords, the obsidian half concealed beneath the flickering flames.

Cinder was smiling as she charged, one sword ahead, the other drawn back for a sideways slashing stroke.

Sunset threw the vambrace at her telekinetically. Cinder swatted it aside with a sweep of her sword.

Sunset teleported away from Cinder before she reached her, reappearing with a flash in the mouth of the corridor. Cinder turned on her, her smile fading a little, snorting with irritation.

She charged again. Sunset had time to take her glove off her left hand and let it fall to the floor.

One hand gloved, one hand bare, she gripped the hilt of Soteria.

Cinder sprang at her as furiously as a tiger, slashing with this sword and then that, hurling herself against Sunset with wild abandon. She didn’t bother to defend herself, she seemed to have no fear that Sunset would break through her guard, she simply attacked and attacked and relied upon her speed and strength to keep Sunset at bay.

And she was not wrong to do so. She was so swift, and every blow that Sunset parried jarred her arm. Sunset retreated into the wall and had to teleport again to open up more space between Cinder and herself, but Cinder just attacked her there once more, and the pattern resumed. Worse, with every blow that Cinder struck, every time one of Cinder’s burning blades clashed with Soteria, Cinder caused the flames of the sword to burst outwards, momentarily consuming Soteria and singeing Sunset’s aura a little.

Sunset was very definitely on the backfoot, she could not match Cinder with the sword, she had no hope of matching it, it was just not where her skills lay.

But if only Cinder’s confidence was to rise a little higher; surely, she had to be exultant by now; surely, she had to see that the victory was nearly hers.

There was a light in Cinder’s eyes as she drew back both swords at once, the burning blades nearly touching her hair before she slammed them down in simultaneous slashes across Sunset’s chest.

Sunset parried the stroke, the burning swords slamming into Soteria like waves into the sea wall.

Now was her chance. Sunset let go of the sword with her left hand — her bare hand — and grabbed at Cinder’s hand.

Cinder dropped one sword and grabbed Sunset’s outstretched wrist, around the sleeve of her jacket, so that their skin didn’t touch. The flames died from the glass sword as it hit the floor between them.

Sunset grunted, she pushed against Cinder’s grip, trying to reach her hand or her face, but Cinder’s hold on her was as iron.

Sunset tried to kick Cinder’s leg, but Cinder shuffled her foot aside, and the kick didn’t land.

Cinder’s glass sword collapsed into fragments, fragments that flew up in the air, dancing round Sunset like torn up paper caught by a breeze, nipping and biting at her aura. Sunset winced, but she couldn’t move because Cinder held her fast.

Cinder’s hand began to burn.

Not again!

Sunset couldn’t reach Cinder’s face, she couldn’t touch the skin of her hand, but if she held her hand palm down, then she could fire a smattering of magical bolts out of her fingertips to hit Cinder in the ankle, around her anklet.

Where Sunset’s foot had failed, her magic did not; the bolts struck home, Cinder recoiled her glass-clad foot and was momentarily off balance.

Sunset lunged forward, slamming into Cinder, knocking her off her remaining foot as they both fell down to the ground.

Sunset hammered Cinder in the face with Soteria. Cinder let go of Sunset’s hand. Sunset reached for Cinder; she could use her semblance to—

A gunshot rang out, followed by Councillor Emerald howling in pain.

Sunset’s head snapped up, her eyes widening.

Sonata stood over General Blackthorn’s unconscious form, a pistol in her hand.

Councillor Emerald lay against the wall, clutching his side, groaning in pain.

Sunset raised her hand.

Sonata looked at her, and a beam of raspberry light leapt from her mouth and slammed into Sunset. It hit her with all the force of a charging goliath, it was so powerful. It lifted Sunset clean up, away from Cinder, carrying her through the air and slamming her into the wall. Sunset shattered all the consoles and the monitors upon her impact, and the sparks and the short outs bit her aura as she sunk down to the floor.

She can do that? None of the books said anything about her being able to do that.

Sonata’s eyes gleamed, and so too did the large red gem, the size of a playing card; it glowed in the dark room.

She opened her mouth, and another beam burst forth to slam into Sunset’s chest. Sunset cried out as the beam, the incredibly strong beam, burned through her aura until it broke, a green light rippling across Sunset’s skin.

There was a burn mark on her cuirass, just beneath the setting sun emblem, where Sonata hadn’t stopped until just after Sunset’s aura broke.

“That was a little too close,” Sonata said.

Cinder climbed to her feet. “You interrupted!”

“To help you out!” Sonata said. “You were losing! Again!”

“I was not beaten yet,” Cinder insisted. “I was going to turn the battle around; her magic was … her life was mine to take.”

“Then take it,” Sonata said, gesturing to Sunset. “I still need him sort of alive,” she added, gesturing to Councillor Emerald. “But her? I don’t need her alive at all. So have at it. Do whatever you want with her.”

Sunset raised her hand. Her aura was broken, but her magic was not; she fired a bolt straight at Sonata.

It was turned away by Cinder’s semblance, disappearing into the corridor beyond the room.

Cinder didn’t look at Sunset. “You … you want me to end her?”

“Mistress,” Sonata said, softly but with an undercurrent of danger in her voice.

Cinder’s jaw tightened. “You want me to finish her for you, Mistress?”

“Uh huh,” Sonata said. “And afterwards, see if you can wake up General Blackthorn; I kinda need him on his feet.”

Cinder stalked towards Sunset with a slinking gait, hips swinging, feet crossing over one another, looking like a cross between a catwalk model and a lioness stalking the high plains.

Sunset could not take her eyes off her. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die?

Am I going to lose because I didn't realise how powerful Sirens could be?

If I die here, if Cinder kills me like this, then… Sunset glanced at Councillor Emerald, his hand pressed against his side, blood seeping out from between his fingers. Then Councillor Emerald will die too, and Bramble will grow up without a father.

And anyway, I … I don't want to die.

To die would be … just awful.

She conjured up a shield around herself, a protective bubble of green magic between her and harm.

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Come, friend, you too must die," she said.

"Eventually, but not yet!" Sunset squawked.

A spear appeared in Cinder's hand, a spear of flame, of fire given form, glass abandoned for now in favour of a weapon of pure magic. It was crudely made, but from what Sunset could make out of its shape, it almost resembled Miló.

That meant something, but Sunset was in no mood to try and puzzle out exactly what it meant.

Cinder held the weapon in one hand, like a javelin, poised to thrust it down upon Sunset's shield.

She closed her eyes, though the flaming corona of the Fall Maiden still burned in her right eye. She scowled and, with her free hand, clutched at her head as though she had been seized by a sudden headache.

Cinder's body trembled.

Yes. Yes, Cinder, come on. Fight it, I know you can.

"Cinder," Sunset whispered. "Cinder?"

Cinder opened her eyes. "I suppose we'll never know which of us was the stronger now, will we?"

Sunset opened her mouth a moment before she managed to get any words out. "Considering our relative positions right now … some might call it settled."

"Some," Cinder acknowledged. "But not I. You see…" She drew back her fiery spear, and took a step back with one foot, her whole body poised to throw.

Cinder spun on one glass-clad toe, whirling around to throw the spear of fire at Sonata. It struck her in the back and side, piercing her through and through, its fiery tip emerging out of her stomach.

Sunset's eyes widened.

Sonata didn't cry out. She didn't scream or shriek. She barely let out a gasp of breath leaving her. She made as if to clutch at the spear, but didn't quite, her hands almost closing around the weapon but not quite managing it.

She collapsed to her knees, a squeaky sound like a thin reed emerging from between her lips.

Cinder stalked across the command centre towards her. She knelt down beside her, one hand upon Sonata's shoulder. "I was defeated by Pyrrha Nikos," she whispered into her ear. "I was defeated by Team Sapphire. And thanks to you, I was denied my victory over Sunset. But Lo! I have triumphed over you at least, Mistress."

Sunset couldn't see Sonata's face, but found that she could imagine the look of shock the Siren must surely be wearing now, assuming that she could comprehend her position through the pain.

As for Sunset, she dispelled the shield and climbed, only a little unsteadily, to her feet. She kept her eyes on Cinder and Sonata even as she sidestepped her way towards Councillor Emerald. There was a first aid kit on the wall, and it hadn't been broken by the amount of crashing around and slamming into things that Sunset and Cinder had been doing, so Sunset levitated it into her hand as she approached the Councillor.

Cinder's spear disappeared, dissolving into nothingness, the magic that sustained it dissipated. Sonata fell forwards onto her face. Cinder rolled her onto her back. One of the Siren's hands clutched futilely at her injury, the other reached for Cinder as her lips moved.

Cinder batted her hand away contemptuously. "You seem to be having a little trouble speaking," she observed. "Good. I am no one's slave. I am no one's puppet. I am Cinder Fall, and I am…" Cinder trailed off, without saying what she was.

Sonata's hand dropped to the floor.

Cinder blinked and shook her head violently from side to side. She glanced at Sunset, there was no trace of green left in her eyes, there was only amber there now, and then looked back down at Sonata Dusk, lying unmoving before her.

"Do you mock me now?" Cinder asked softly. She raised her voice, yelling, "DO YOU MOCK ME NOW?" She roared wordlessly and kicked Sonata in the ribs. She grabbed at the spiked collar around her neck, pulling and tugging at it, tearing it in half as she wrenched it from around her throat and flung it down on the floor beside Sonata. Then she kicked the body once again.

"Do you mock me now?" Cinder demanded for the third time. "You bleeding piece of earth, I am…" Once more, she trailed off. She tossed her head and ran one hand through hair that had become a little bedraggled.

"Sunset," she said, "I—"

"Cinder, there is normally nothing I would like better than to bandy words with you, but I'm a little busy right now," Sunset muttered. She had the first aid kit open in front of her, and both her hands — she had pulled the blue sterile gloves on over both her hands, for both good hygiene and her semblance — were on Councillor Emerald, gently moving him away from the wall so that she had a little space. She took his jacket off, trying to be as gentle as she could despite the need for haste, and then her hands began to glow green as she used telekinesis to work more swiftly than her fingers could have: unbuttoning the Councillor's shirt, lifting out a sterile dressing in its sealed plastic wrapper, and a safety pin too.

The Councillor's injury was bad. There was no getting around that; he had a nasty-looking hole in the side of his belly, and it was bleeding. What was worse, Sunset thought that the bullet was still in there; there was no blood on the back of his shirt as she took it off.

Someone was going to get the bullet out if he was to have any chance, but it wasn't going to be Sunset, and it wasn't going to be here.

"What I'm going to do, Councillor," she said to him, "is hopefully stop the bleeding, and then that ought to hold you until I get you to a doctor. Someone who can get that bullet out without doing even more damage."

Councillor Emerald looked pale. There was sweat on his brow; in fact, it was all over his face. His chest rose and fell.

"Yes, well," Cinder murmured, "I'll leave you to get on with that then, shall I? Goodbye, Sunset." She started to walk away, her glass slippers tapping on the floor.

"Wait!" Sunset shouted. "Where are you going?"

"To be revenged!" Cinder called out as she disappeared from view around the corner. "On the whole pack of them!"

Whole pack of who? Not me, it seems, but Pyrrha? Amber? Or do you just mean Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon, if you still say they're Salem's agents? Who are you going to try and kill next, should I be worried?

Sunset shook her head. She had other things to worry about now, more immediate concerns than what Cinder might do if — and it was a big if — she could get out of here.

Telekinetically, she tore open the bandage pack and levitated out both pad and bandage. She pressed the pad against Councillor Emerald's wound, pressing it hard enough that the bleeding stopped, or at least didn't get any further than the white pad itself. She began to wrap the bandage around his middle.

"Go," Councillor Emerald said, his voice hoarse but audible.

"'Go'?" Sunset repeated. "Yes, Councillor, we're going to go as soon as I've done this—"

"Go after her," Councillor Emerald said.

Sunset was almost surprised enough to stop working. Fortunately, she didn't, but it was a close run thing. "Go after … you mean after Cinder?"

Councillor Emerald nodded. "Stop her. Before she can … you have to stop her."

"No, what I need to do is get you to someone with real medical training," Sunset said. "Which I will in just a second." She finished wrapping the bandage around the Councillor, wrapping it several times around for good measure before using the safety pin to pin it in place. It was rough work, and not nearly adequate for a gunshot wound, but it was the best she could do at the moment. A specialist would take over soon enough.

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said, his voice almost a growl. "You promised me that—"

"That I would put the good of Vale over your life, yes, Councillor, I've not forgotten," Sunset said. "But, to run through three points very quickly: first, my aura is broken, and Cinder's is not, so any renewal of fight between us would be a very one-sided affair; two, she's a better fighter than I am, and my … particular skills might not make up the shortfall in that regard, especially with no aura; third and finally and most importantly, it is my earnest, sincere, and unbiased judgement that the good of Vale is better served by the survival of its First Councillor than by preventing Cinder from getting up to whatever nonsense she has in mind at the moment, and since I'm the one who isn't currently bleeding to death, it's my judgement that we'll be following in this instance." She began to pull his shirt and jacket back on, leaving the buttons unfastened but with at least something to preserve a degree of modesty until they reached a hospital.

She wasn't actually that worried about Cinder; at least, she wasn't worried about Cinder on behalf of Vale. She wasn't sure who, exactly, Cinder was going after, but she was certain that Cinder didn't aim to bring down Vale or bring about carnage in the streets. Even if Sunset hadn't been so sure of that, the danger to Vale would have had to have been very great indeed for her to have prioritised stopping Cinder over saving Councillor Emerald's life. Kingdoms needed leadership, after all, they could survive body blows more readily than they could survive being without a head, and that need for leadership went double for places that had already suffered bodyblows. Vale was going to be in enough confusion tomorrow morning without the death of the First Councillor to contend with.

In this instance, Sunset was fortunate that a cold-blooded pragmatism such as Ruby might have been proud of dovetailed in perfect harmony with her natural inclinations.

"So let's hear no more about that," Sunset added as she took hold of the Councillor's arm and pulled it over her shoulder. She started to stand up, pulling Councillor Emerald up with her; the weight was harder to bear without aura to enhance her strength, but she just about managed it. "And let's get you—"

"Not yet," Councillor Emerald said. "I need … I need to address the people, address the kingdom." He paused for a moment. "Is it done, Miss Shimmer? Is it … the magic, is it—?"

"Broken?" Sunset asked. "I think so, yes; I'd be amazed if it wasn't. Alright then, Councillor, they said the cameras were through here, didn't they?"

She half-helped, half-dragged Councillor Emerald across the room, trying her best for his sake to avoid the unconscious forms of the Valish soldiers — and the dead body of Sonata Dusk. What would all the soldiers think when they woke up, General Blackthorn and all the rest? Would they remember what they had done? What would they think of themselves tomorrow?

She couldn't know the answers, and ultimately, there was little enough time to ponder them.

Sunset pushed the door open into the next room, which was largely bare except for a bright lighting set up designed to throw light upwards into the face of whoever was standing in front of the camera set on a tripod just before the lights. Wires ran out of the camera down to a laptop set on a little table on the floor.

Sunset grabbed the laptop telekinetically, levitating it over to her as she helped Councillor walk around both lights and camera until he was standing in front of the camera, in the full glare of the lights which shone in both their faces.

In the laptop screen, Sunset could see what the camera was seeing: both Councillor Emerald and Sunset herself, although her face was not wholly in the frame, there was enough of her to make out who it was, and that she was supporting Councillor Emerald, although you couldn't see his wound; the camera didn't go that far down.

As far as Sunset could tell, and admittedly, she wasn't an expert in this kind of programme, everything was set up to go; all she had to do was push the right button, and they would hijack the CCT feed just the way that General Blackthorn had before. Or rather, they would activate the emergency broadcast system, which didn't sound as sinister.

"Are you ready, Councillor?"

Councillor Emerald nodded. "I believe so."

"Then you are on," Sunset said. "In three, two, one." She pushed the button. "Go."

Councillor Emerald took a deep breath. "People of Vale," he declared, unable to disguise the shortness of his breath, the pain in his voice. "My name is Aspen Emerald, your First Councillor. I am addressing you, from the headquarters of the Valish, Defence Forces. There is no cause, for panic. The attempt…” Councillor Emerald closed his eyes. “It appears that, General Blackthorn and his senior officers, have begun to suffer from a kind of, mass delirium, the origins of which, are as yet, unknown, but will be investigated, as the highest priority of the Council, once the current exigencies, are over. It was General Blackthorn, in the grip of this delusional state, who tried to discredit me, by releasing malicious, and false information, regarding my involvement in the Breach, and that of Miss Shimmer. But I will not allow, the legitimate, civilian government, to be overthrown, especially not by a group suffering, from poor mental health. I have relieved General Blackthorn, of his command, and detained him, for his own safety, and the safety of others, until his condition and those, of his fellow officers, can be properly investigated, and treated with all due care, and attention. As First Councillor, I order all units to disregard, any orders issued, by General Blackthorn, to cease hostilities against the Atlesians, and to return to barracks, or to their positions, defending our city. To General Ironwood, I ask that you cease hostilities against us, and accept my heartfelt apologies, for any losses incurred, by your forces at the hands, of confused and misled elements of, the military. People of Vale, I tell you, there is no curfew. There is…" Councillor Emerald stopped, bowing his head, screwing his eyes tight shut.

Is this too much? Sunset thought. Should I cut the feed now?

Councillor Emerald opened his eyes again. "I won't tell you that there is nothing to fear. I must confess that there are things to be afraid of. A grimm horde has mustered outside our walls, and its attacks on Vale, have already begun. For that, reason, I am ordering an immediate, evacuation of the outer limits, behind the safety, of the city walls. Take only, what you need, and move with haste.

“But our enemies, lie outside the walls, not within. Our enemies are monsters, not men. I have no doubt that our huntsmen, whose skill has been amply demonstrated, in the recent tournament, supported by our Atlesian allies, and by our loyal defence forces, will, with the courage and good heart for which we Valish are well known, deliver our city from all perils. Have courage. Have heart. And have hope, the darkness will not endure. It will be morning in Vale once more soon enough. Thank you." He looked at Sunset.

Sunset took that as her cue to cut the broadcast.

"Well said, in the circumstances, Councillor," she said, as she let the laptop drop to the floor with a clatter. "But are you really going to make General Blackthorn take all the blame for this?"

"'Blame'?" Councillor Emerald murmured. "No, not blame. Pity, in all probability, for his … condition. But better to be pitied than to be blamed, no? I’m afraid some consequence … regrettable, but unavoidable, the moment he became, the face of this … the face of this. Hopefully, some way can be found for him, to be successfully treated and to slip away into obscurity."

"I suppose," Sunset muttered. "He’ll probably need some kind of treatment once he comes around."

Councillor Emerald hung his head. "Will he remember what he has done?”

"I’m not entirely certain," Sunset admitted. "The books didn’t cover that part, although Cinder seems to remember well enough. Anyway, all of that … it can wait. It doesn’t matter right now. Stay with me, Councillor, just a little longer, while I get you to help." She began to help him back towards the door; they would go back the way they had come, if only because that was the way that Sunset knew. "You're going to be fine, Councillor, just fine.

"Stay with me."

Author's Note

On the one hand, getting to write this chapter was a lot of fun because Sunset and Cinder never got to fight one on one in the original and so it felt like correcting an omission.

On the other hand it was also difficult because it felt like a lot of pressure to get this right, and also to do without selling either party too short. My intention was to have quite a balanced battle, where both sides got to show off their skills without either seeming to overwhelm the other. Hopefully I succeeded.

Writing Sonata in her swansong really was a lot of fun; there's a bit of Star Wars inspiration to this chapter, with Sonata as the Emperor almost, and Sunset as Luke and Cinder as Vader. That sort of unapologetic, scenery-chewing villainy is always a treat to write.

Killing off Sonata is another big change from the original but it felt right as a way of ending her threat, having Cinder rebel against her and kill her felt like a much needed win for Cinder herself, and it felt like a way of closing off this plotline without having Sonata just kind of disappear from the story for volume upon volume afterwards.

Comfort (New)

Comfort

“Talk to me, Councillor,” Sunset said, as she helped Councillor Emerald move down the dark corridor away from the command centre. She was taking him — helping him, if you preferred — towards the elevator, back the way that they had come. With good fortune … no, not with good fortune; it was the way that it was going to be, the way that it had to be; with Sonata dead, the spell would be broken — some spells could sustain themselves after the death of the one who cast them, simple transfigurations, spells applied as part of potion-making, that sort of thing; not mind control, or even emotional alteration in its milder form — and everyone that Sonata had charmed with the magic of her Siren voice would come to their senses. They might be confused or disoriented; they might wonder what they had done, they might even be suffering from memory loss — a blessing for some, in the circumstances – but they would not start shooting at Sunset and Councillor Emerald.

They would have no cause to do so now. Unless they decided to shoot an intruder on sight, but even then, the First Councillor could hardly be called an intruder in an official Valish government building, could he?

Not now that the soldiers who might have sought to keep him out were free, however discomfiting that freedom might be to them.

Discomfiting or not, discomfiting to a great or small degree, surely, it was preferable to slavery?

It was preferable, with no 'surely' about it. That was what Cinder had understood, even in the throes of Sonata’s enchantment herself, and that which had given herself the will to fight back and, in so doing, free everyone else from the Siren song.

Huh. Hadn’t thought about it quite like that before. She might not have intended it, Sunset was absolutely certain that she had not intended it, but nevertheless, Cinder had saved everyone by killing Sonata.

She was a much bigger hero tonight than Sunset, and depending on what Pyrrha and Rainbow Dash and the rest were doing, she might be the biggest hero of the night so far.

It would have brought a smile to Sunset’s face, and a chuckle too, under less serious circumstances. As it was, she could not help but wonder if Cinder realised, and what she made or would make of it if she did.

She could not dwell on such thoughts, however; if she spent too long in her own head amongst such imaginings, then she would become lost in them for good, and that wouldn’t do, not now. Not when she had Councillor Emerald to take care of.

Their steps were slow; certainly, they were slower than they had been on their way down here; Sunset’s lack of aura and the Councillor’s gunshot wound were slowing them down. But they would get there, they would get there in the end, provided that Councillor Emerald could hold on until then. He wasn’t in any state to ride on Sunset’s bike, and she wasn’t in the mood to trust any Valish Defence Force troops to drive her, even if they had all been freed from Sonata’s control, but there were the Atlesians up in the courtyard too, and they had airships; assuming that they hadn’t both been destroyed in the battle, she could get one of them to give them a ride to the nearest hospital.

Councillor Emerald just had to hold on until then. She’d staunched the bleeding, so he wasn’t going to bleed to death, but … first aid didn’t get the attention at Beacon that it probably should, let alone anything more advanced than that. Aura could make huntsmen a bit complacent, especially when you had Jaune on your team. All of which was to say that Sunset didn’t know exactly how bad it was that Councillor Emerald had a bullet in him other than that it was bad.

It was bad, but hopefully, he could pull through. He had to pull through.

Was he going to pass out? Sunset didn’t know, but she was afraid he might. You could pass out from the pain, after all; she’d done it herself, which didn’t make it a good thing. That was why she had to keep him talking, keep him thinking, not allow him to just slip away from her.

“Talk to me, Councillor, come on,” Sunset repeated. “Please, just … tell me about that toy that you brought for Bramble, tell me about that Amity Colosseum, that sounds pretty cool.”

Councillor Emerald made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort. “It had better be, the lien I paid for it.”

“How many lien?” Sunset asked.

“I’m almost embarrassed to say.”

“Don’t be like that, Councillor,” Sunset said. “Isn’t any amount of money worth it if it makes your son smile?”

“What a twee sentiment.”

Sunset laughed. “Well … yes, and from my lips, I admit it may sound a little … insincere, but believe me, there are people who could make it sound incredibly earnest and undeniably true. Although, to be frank, I should tell you that those same people would probably also say that money can’t buy happiness, and you’d believe that too.” She stopped, because the Councillor was supposed to be talking, not her.

Except that Councillor Emerald declined to talk. Sunset turned her head, fearing that he might have lost consciousness, but found that no, he was awake, his eyes were open, albeit looking down at the ground, and he was still breathing.

“Councillor,” Sunset prompted him. “I know that we didn’t exactly get off to the best start, but I’d hope that we’ve been through enough tonight that you can share with me the embarrassing amount of money you spent on a toy. Think of it … think of it as a show of your devotion to Bramble.”

Councillor Emerald glanced at her, a slight touch of incredulity in his green eyes.

“It is a yardstick, no?” Sunset asked.

Councillor Emerald drew in a breath, wincing as he did so. "Four hundred lien," he said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'Four hundred lien'? That is … admittedly, a lot for a toy, but not as much as your hemming and hawing and your embarrassment led me to expect."

"It's enough, don't you think?" Councillor Emerald asked.

"It will be," Sunset replied. "If he likes it."

Councillor Emerald made another sort of snorting sound. "He'd better," he muttered. He paused, breathing deeply in and out, and as he breathed, he made a squeaky wheezing sound. "He's been so excited about this. This last month it's been, all that he can talk about. Perhaps all that he can, think about. Getting him to do his, homework, was a trial." He paused. "Albeit, a trial for Mrs. Hughes, more than myself." Another pause. "My wife," he said. "She told me once that, she was never worried about me having affairs, but that politics itself was a, formidable rival, indeed. I haven't been what you might call a, present father. Not as much as I…"

Sunset didn't know what the Councillor had meant to say next. Not as much as he should have? Or not as much as he had wanted to? "Councillor?"

"I haven't always been there," Councillor Emerald said. "I suppose expensive gifts are, no substitute, but—"

"But that doesn't mean they don't mean anything," Sunset told him. "I was raised by someone who had the weight of the community upon her shoulders, urgent matters requiring her attention, often very busy. And while the gifts, the fine quality gifts, the probably expensive gifts … while they were never as valuable to me as the actual time that we spent together, the fact that she knew me well enough to know that I'd like them, the fact that she cared enough to go to the trouble … that meant something too, and I was very appreciative."

"Was this," Councillor Emerald murmured, "in Equestria?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "You, uh … you heard that, huh?"

"I'm not unfamiliar with the word," Councillor Emerald said. "But that girl seemed to be putting it to some uses with which I am unfamiliar. You're like her, aren't you? A magical creature?"

"Not exactly," Sunset replied. "I can't sing a song and make everyone love me." She chuckled darkly. "If I could do that, my life would have been infinitely easier — and infinitely poorer besides, not that I'd have realised that. But … yes, Councillor, I am a creature of magic. What you — what the world — took to be my very versatile semblance is actually magical power."

"Extraordinary," Councillor Emerald murmured. "So … if you are not a Siren, then—"

"A unicorn," Sunset said. "I am a unicorn."

Councillor Emerald paused. "You seem to be missing a couple of legs. And a horn."

"There are places, Councillor, where I have both," Sunset replied.

"In Equestria?" said Councillor Emerald.

"Yes, Councillor, in Equestria," Sunset replied. "A place where, I am not afraid to say, ordinary human eyes cannot go."

"You make it sound like a fairyland," Councillor Emerald said. "Like the Ever After."

"That's not the worst comparison," Sunset told him. "And who knows? Maybe the Ever After is real, maybe there's a Goblin Market in the sewers under Vale, maybe the fair folk dance in the forgotten places of the Forever Fall and if you listen closely you can hear their music, as Percy and Tristan did. Who's to say otherwise?"

"People who have been there and hear nothing?" suggested Councillor Emerald.

"Ah, but you see, they don't really want to be heard," Sunset said. "Or maybe not. Maybe you're right. All I can say is that, however much it may sound like a fairytale, I come from a place like the Ever After, except a little different, and so is … so was Sonata."

Equestria was not quite like the Ever After which, more than Alyx herself, was the real star of The Girl Who Fell Through the World, but — unless you wanted to make a stand on Equestria being real and the Ever After not — they were not so different that Sunset felt as though she were lying to Councillor Emerald. She was, perhaps, misdirecting him a little bit, encouraging him to think that Equestria was somewhere he could never reach so there was no point in looking, but that wasn't something that touched her conscience. Councillor Emerald was a good man, and a man who wanted the best for his people, but he wasn't a close friend to her, and she didn't trust him in quite the same way that she trusted Professor Ozpin, so shading the truth in some minor aspects wasn't something that she felt guilty about.

"I … see," Councillor Emerald said softly. "May I ask … who else knows about this?"

"My closest friends," Sunset said. "And Professor Ozpin."

"Ozpin," Councillor Emerald. "I suppose, I can understand why you wouldn't want to shout about it. We are not … always the most welcoming people."

Sunset didn't reply to that. Councillor Emerald didn't need her to tell him that he was correct on that score. Even a faunus in his position, exalted as it was, even someone who had risen to occupy the highest office in the land had probably dealt with some discrimination on his way up, even if he didn't want to make a big issue of it.

He was probably still dealing with it. Now that the subject had been raised, Sunset couldn't help but wonder if his faunusness might be a hindrance to Councillor Emerald in attempting to manage the situation that he had been handed in the days to come.

"Can I … can I ask you something that may seem a little personal, or impertinent, Councillor?" asked Sunset.

"You intrigue me enough that I have to say yes," Councillor Emerald replied.

"Does it worry you that…" — Sunset hesitated for a moment — "that your position tomorrow will be in greater danger because you're a faunus?"

Councillor Emerald took a moment before he replied, either thinking or catching his breath or both together. "It has, crossed my mind," he admitted. "When I took office, there were those who … confined to social media, thank goodness, anonymous and bilious and spewing hate, said I was in league with the White Fang, that I was their agent, that I'd hand control of Vale over to my 'mates.' Appalling stuff, but thankfully nobody, dared to say anything, like that aloud. I hoped that, it would all go away, with time, and with results. But now … I'm afraid they'll be back, and their voices, will be louder than before." He closed his eyes for a moment. "But, if I am thrown out over this, we must remember that, poor old Novo was defenestrated, despite being a human, so you know, it isn't really, about race, it's about democracy. The people do not have, much patience, with leaders who, they think are floundering. But I will not resign. I have no reason to resign. I shall battle on, and hope that, from this crisis, emerges a new spirit, of Valish unity. I hope that people will, rally round the flag, and the Council." He groaned. "If I survive."

"You're going to survive Councillor, you're absolutely going to survive, I guarantee it," Sunset insisted. "I promise it, just like I promised Bramble that I'd keep you safe. Don't think about any other outcome, don't worry that you haven't made a will or said goodbye or anything like that, just remember that I'm going to get you help. Think about Bramble, think about how you're going to give him that toy. Was it worth the money, do you think? I have to admit, I'm not sure about the point of a flying Amity Arena. I know that it does fly, but won't it be out of reach?"

Councillor Emerald shook his head, his magnificent antlers swaying from side to side. "The man in the shop, who I admit was very keen to sell it to me, gave me a demonstration. It only goes about a foot up off the floor, you can make it go as high as two feet, but that uses up the gravity dust, much faster. So, on the normal setting, Bramble will still be capable of standing up, and looking down, into the arena. It opens up, as well."

"'Opens up'?" Sunset asked.

Councillor Emerald nodded. "It isn't, entirely to scale," he said. "The stands are smaller than they ought to be, and the battlefield is bigger than it should be. There are only, about … ten rows, maybe twelve rows of spectator stands, and all the spectators, are moulded to their seats, so that they don't fall out, and get lost or trodden on, when the arena opens up. And the promenade, the outer parts, are not there at all. Just arches, and stickers to make it look like a bustling promenade. So I'm afraid, if anyone wanted to model, your friends taking down the White Fang, they couldn't."

"My what?" Sunset asked. "Councillor, did you say something about the White Fang?"

Councillor Emerald glanced at her. "You didn't know?"

"Didn't know what?"

"You didn't know about the White Fang?"

"No, Councillor, I didn't know about the White Fang; I've been busy," Sunset said, with a touch of impatience entering her voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, it turned out to be nothing much, some White Fang infiltrators got on the Amity Arena today, before all this started," Councillor Emerald said. "Tried to kill a couple of Atlas students, I believe. Friends of yours, I think, those famous faunus."

"Blake?" Sunset asked. "Blake and Rainbow Dash."

"Exactly," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Those two. They fought them off, and I understand that all the White Fang were taken into custody, and handed over to the VPD. I'm not sure why they did it. I'm not sure that anyone is sure."

"It doesn't make much sense," Sunset murmured. "Blake and Rainbow have done more to advance the cause of the faunus, or at least to strike back against the oppression of the faunus, than anyone in … why try and kill them? Of all the people, of all the things that the White Fang could be doing … maybe they're jealous?"

"'Jealous'?"

"Envy can be a powerful motive, Councillor, believe you me," Sunset said. "They're alright, aren't they?"

"Your friends?"

"Yes."

"I think so, yes," Councillor Emerald said. "Ironwood told me it had all been handled, no fuss, no bother, no reason to cancel the tournament or anything like that."

"I'm glad," Sunset said. "Yes, I'm glad. Not that the White Fang had much chance; it was stupid of them to go after them in the arena — mind you, I'm not sure there would have been many places in Vale it wouldn't have been stupid to go after them. But tell me about this opening up, Councillor, what does that mean?"

"You still want to talk about that toy?"

"I think it's something that you have to do most of the talking about, Councillor, so speak up and spill."

Councillor Emerald gave a very slight chuckle. "It's quite simple really. The sides of the arena, the walls, they open up. They're on hinges, and while they fasten together, four sides, with plastic clips, you can pull them apart, they fall back, so that it's like a … it's like a flower you see, with four petals, and then a round … filament, is that the word, the battlefield itself is the filament in the centre. That way, Bramble won't have to reach awkwardly down, to move the figures, around the battlefield, and have them fight each other. It has biomes, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I'm not just talking about fixed surfaces, either," Councillor Emerald said. "It's all stored in the bottom, and they come up out of the floor, just like in real matches."

"Really?" Sunset squawked. "Seriously?"

"Apparently it's based, on the technology, that lets huntsmen transform their weapons."

"I'm beginning to think that four hundred lien was cheap for all this," Sunset muttered. "Do the biomes … do they change? Does the lava field shoot lava, and—"

"It's all coloured water, so as not to hurt the children," Councillor Emerald said. "Or melt the figures. But they do shoot up, out of the floor."

"This is an Atlesian toy, I take it?" Sunset said.

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald replied. "As a representative, of the Kingdom of Vale, I'm very offended."

Sunset turned her head to get a better look at him.

"But you happen to be right," admitted Councillor Emerald, as sheepishly as someone in his position could admit anything.

Sunset smiled. "Well, Atlesian or not, I'm sure Bramble will be thrilled with it. Especially if you have a good selection of the right teams for him to play with."

"Yes," Councillor Emerald murmured. "The right teams.”

Sunset didn’t press him on the point of which teams he’d bought; she didn’t need to have her ego stroked thus. Instead, she asked him, “Have you wrapped it?"

"Wrapped it?"

"A toy as grand as this deserves a little effort made in handing it over, don't you think?"

"Miss Shimmer, I've been shot trying to preserve this city for future generations," Councillor Emerald reminded her. "That is all the effort that I have it in me to make at present."

"I suppose you've got the right to take that line, Councillor, if anyone does," Sunset conceded. "But all the same, it hardly seems like the kind of thing you should just hand him the box and 'here you go, son' before you leave—"

Lights flashed in Sunset's eyes, lights shining out of the darkness of the corridor down which they trudged, lights mounted on rifles held by Atlesian soldiers or held in the hands of the two Atlesian Specialists who led them out.

"Who goes there?" demanded one of them, the short woman with the power fists on her arms who Sunset had seen fighting earlier. With her was the tall man with the movie-star good looks and the fishing rod. Of their other comrades, the big woman or the bearded man who had been attacked by the robot, there was no sign amongst the ordinary Atlesian soldiers who followed behind the Specialists.

"Don't shoot!" Sunset cried, raising one hand. "This is Councillor Emerald, this is the First Councillor of Vale!"

The Atlesian soldiers kept their rifles trained on Sunset and Councillor Emerald, even as the two Specialists advanced on them. They lowered their flashlights, so that they weren't shining directly in Sunset's eyes, even as they still lit up the dark and gloomy corridor.

"She's right," the man said. "It is the Valish Councillor."

"He doesn't look too good," the woman muttered.

"Sir?" the man asked. "Sir, are you hurt?"

"He's been shot," Sunset explained. "I've stopped the bleeding, but … he needs a doctor, a hospital."

"'Shot'?" cried a Valish officer, with crowns on his shoulders, who pushed his way past the Atlesian soldiers to join the Specialists in front of Sunset and Councillor Emerald. "Councillor? Councillor Emerald, can you hear me?"

"No need to shout, Sky Beak, I can hear you," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Although it is, good to hear your voice."

Sky Beak let out a ragged sigh. "And good to hear yours, Councillor. As good as it was to hear your broadcast just a moment ago. You look…" He trailed off, presumably unable to say honestly that the First Councillor looked well or anything close to it.

"Awful," Councillor Emerald muttered. "I look awful, don't I?"

Sky Beak hesitated, before he said, "What's going on? One moment, our own soldiers were defending the Headquarters, refusing all my orders to lay down their arms, and the next moment, it was as though they'd all come out of some sort of a trance. They stopped fighting, some of them threw down their weapons, others looked as though they didn't understand what had just happened to them. And then we heard your broadcast, saying that General Blackthorn was in custody?"

"General Blackthorn is unconscious in the command centre back the way we've just come," Sunset explained. "As are all the men with him."

"So ‘restrained for his own safety and that of others,’ that was exaggerating things just a little bit," said the Atlesian man.

"I said what needed, to be said," Councillor Emerald insisted. "For the sake of Vale, to calm things down."

"Well, we'll go and … restrain him now, for real," said the woman.

"Although it seems as though there won't be any need to force him to order a Valish surrender," said the man.

"It might not hurt," said the woman. “General Ironwood didn’t say anything about mass delirium; he said it was grimm cultists.”

"No, Harriet," said the man. "Not after the First Councillor's broadcast. Not when there are Valish troops laying down their arms upstairs already." He smiled. "Congratulations, Councillor, you might just have saved the day."

"I can only hope," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Please … be as gentle as you can with, General Blackthorn and his officers; they have not been responsible for their actions. Sky … Colonel Sky Beak, with General Blackthorn … incapable of carrying out his duties, I am appointing you Commanding General of the Valish Defence Forces pending a confirmatory vote of the Council. Take command, get the troops off the streets as I instructed, maintain or reinforce," he groaned. "I won't tell you how to defend the city, but make sure that you do defend the city. The grimm outside—" He groaned again, his face twisting, contorting with pain, his head bowing. Sunset felt a sharp weight pull on her shoulder and thought the Councillor would have fallen if he hadn't been holding onto her.

"He needs a doctor," she said, "a hospital."

"We've had reports of fighting around Valish hospitals," the Atlesian man said. "Take him to the medical frigate; he can get treated there. Wierzbowski, help her with the Councillor."

"Yes, sir," said one of the Atlesian troops, slinging his rifle across his back as he dashed forwards to take Councillor Emerald's other arm and pull it over his shoulder.

"It will be done, Councillor," said Colonel Sky Beak. "I'll do everything I can to get our troops off the streets and protecting the city. You have my word."

Councillor Emerald nodded his head weakly. "Thank you, Sky Beak. I'm counting on you. Vale is counting on you."

"I'll let the airship know that you're on your way," said the Atlesian man, as he tapped his earpiece. "This is Ebi to Echo One-Two-Six, we have a wounded VIP inbound, stand by to transport them to the Comfort for urgent medical attention." He fell silent, then nodded his head after a moment. "They're waiting for you," he said. "Go."

Sunset and the Atlesian soldier — Wierzbowski — began to move, carrying Councillor Emerald much faster between the two of them than Sunset had been able to do on her own. Colonel Sky Beak and his Atlesian escort went the other way, moving past them towards the command centre; the lights from their flashlights disappeared behind Sunset and the others, vanishing off into the gloom.

As they moved, it occurred to Sunset that the Atlesians didn't seem to have encountered Cinder on their way down. She hadn't heard any gunshots, no sounds of a battle going on ahead, nor did they seem to have fought anyone. It was as though they had slipped past one another, like ghosts.

That was probably for the best. The quicker this situation could be gotten under control, the better, without Cinder starting a fight after the fight was over.

Cinder had changed so quickly that she would have made actors jealous.

It helped that she had omitted the 'undressing' part of changing and still had her red dress on underneath the loose-fitting Valish uniform that she had taken from an unconscious soldier that she'd come across. It wasn't as though she was going to go around wearing this ugly, shapeless, green crime against fashion for very long — it was practically a jumpsuit, for goodness' sake — she wore it because she needed it for just a little while, but at the first opportunity, she intended to tear it off again, probably literally, and let her red dress show once again.

But, for all its excellent qualities, it had to be admitted that she would never have gotten out of the Valish Headquarters wearing the red dress. She was, after all, infamous; she was Cinder Fall, the notorious, the terrible, the would-be destroyer of Vale. Sonata had mocked her persistent failures and lack of accomplishments, but although Cinder had admittedly failed to accomplish the destruction of her enemies, she had nevertheless succeeded in making herself well known here. She was Cinder Fall, and as Cinder Fall, she wouldn't be allowed to just walk out of here.

Wearing a Valish uniform, though, with a cap covering her head and casting a shadow over her face, with her hair bound back in a ponytail using an elastic band that Cinder had found in someone's office, then there was nothing and no one stopping her from leaving to go wherever she liked.

The fact of the matter was that there were too many Valish soldiers and too few Atlesians; General Ironwood had decided to launch a small strike on the Valish Headquarters rather than to flood the area with soldiers. No doubt, he, prodded by Ozpin, had hoped to avoid the mass bloodshed that would make the pressure for war harder to resist. And yet, there had been bloodshed, on both sides. She was in the courtyard now, and there were dead Valish soldiers lying in the eaves, beside or behind columns that were pocked with bullet holes, or which had been destroyed in places by rocket or grenade fire. Dead men lay in the middle of holes in the wall, the dust of the destruction mingling with the blood. It was not only smashed and shattered robots that littered the ground, but dead men and women in green.

Dead men and women in white, also, or in the metallic armour of the Atlesian infantry. Their casualties were not so numerous, an inevitable fact by dint of their much smaller numbers of soldiers, but amongst them was one of their Specialists. They had lain their body out on the grass and covered their face and upper body with a jacket, but Cinder could see their boots and trousers and they did not resemble the other Atlesians. One of their elites had fallen in this battle.

Cinder wondered if they had a family, if they had children back home in Atlas waiting for their father or mother's return from the battlefield but whose surviving parent would have to tell them that their mommy or daddy would never be coming home. If they had children who would be expected to take comfort from the fact that mommy or daddy had died a hero, who would be solemnly handed a flag by General Ironwood as though that made any difference at all, as though a cheap rag to be run up a pole was any substitute for a mother's arms, for love and comfort, for a happy home, for safety.

Cinder felt bile rise in her throat. Bile that was directed not at General Ironwood but at herself.

I should have thought of all of that before I started all this.

How many more Ashleys have I created? How many more have I condemned? How many foolish girls have I shattered the worlds and lives of?

Perhaps when I am old and grey, if I live to be old and grey, then one of them will seek me out and have their revenge.

But revenge will not bring back their families.

I am a creature of malice, a monster who makes earthquakes where I tread, and houses fall from them.

Cinder bowed her head, clutching at one elbow with her other arm.

Nobody noticed. This whole base was now so full of shamefaced-looking Valish soldiers that one more didn't make any difference or attract any comment.

Who would have commented on it? The handful of overstretched Atlesian troops? Their numbers might have been adequate, once they had breached the courtyard, to fight their way through the corridors, but they were wholly insufficient to keep an eye on so many Valish. They were hampered by the fact that the status of the Valish was somewhat uncertain. They were not prisoners, at least not sufficiently so as to justify rounding them all up to kneel in one corner with their hands on their heads. Councillor Emerald had ordered them to cease fighting and had begged General Ironwood to do the same; he hadn't surrendered to the Atlesians, however, and the Atlesians seemed unwilling to press the point. Perhaps they were worried that, if pushed, the amazed and dismayed Valish might start to resist again. As it was, the Valish had been disarmed, their rifles stacked up under Atlesian guard, but the soldiers themselves were free to move.

And many of them were moving; they drifted here and there like dandelions blown away at the mercy of the breeze that picked them up to drop them here or there. Cinder had even caught sight of a couple that were, as she planned to, heading for the exit. Maybe they meant to obey Councillor Emerald's order to return to barracks, or maybe they were going home. Either way, there seemed no will on the part of the Atlesians to stop them.

Indeed, it might even make things easier for the Atlesians if the Valish did all abscond; they wouldn't have to keep an eye on them.

For her own part, she would leave, and then…

"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."

Cinder kept her head bowed a little as she slunk across the edges of the courtyard, passing under the shadows of the portico. She moved slowly, with her head bowed, as though shame burdened her heavily upon her shoulders. Shame did burden her: shame for what Sonata had done to her and shame for the growing realisation of what she had done: to create herself, perhaps many times over.

There was a rucksack slung across one shoulder; she had her glass slippers in there, as well as her weapons; at present, she had been forced to wear combat boots upon her feet; they were uncomfortable, they fitted poorly, and if it hadn't been for her aura, Cinder was absolutely certain that they would have given her blisters.

She would be free of all of it soon enough, once she was free of this place.

This place where the dead Specialist lay and stirred up such treacherous thoughts in Cinder's mind.

She was fortunate that neither glass slippers nor glass swords rattled or chinked or crashed in her rucksack as she walked — another reason for sloth in Cinder's movements. She was quiet as she made her way around the edges of the courtyard.

Cinder stopped as Sunset emerged. She stepped closer to a bullet-marked column, hiding within the shadows even as a part of her wanted Sunset to notice her, wanted to be spotted, wanted … something more than their meeting had given her, marred as it had been by the fact that Cinder had been too little herself.

When she thought of what Sonata had done to her, a mere spear through the gut seemed too good for her; Cinder should have incinerated the body at least, or better still, burned her alive. That would have risked Sonata using her magic on Cinder again even while she burned, but even so … her death had been too swift by far. Too swift for someone who had made a slave of Cinder, who had bound her more thoroughly than Lady Kommenos could have dreamt of, had made her more helpless than that stupid little girl who had died in Mistral.

Cinder was supposed to be stronger than that; Cinder was supposed to be, whatever else, inviolate in herself, in her will, in her resolve. Enemies could defeat her, kill her, betray and abandon her, but they could not make her other than she was.

Except they had. Sonata had. She had taken Cinder's feelings, and she had twisted and usurped them, and she had made Cinder into her plaything.

Cinder had not thought it was possible for such a fate to befall her. She hated the fact that such a fate had befallen her. She hated the fact that, in being liberated from that enslavement, she had something in common with these Valish soldiers, this common, vulgar herd devoid of … of will, passion, resolve, of destiny. Of destiny most of all.

Cinder had thought herself, had striven to be, one of the Great Ones, whose fortunes might ebb and flow like the moon but who always remained set apart from those beneath. The knowledge, the belief, the intention and desire to be … different, special, elevated, marked, chosen, it had comforted her in her darkest moments, it had inspired her at her lowest, it had driven her in the face of great obstacles. It had been her light in dark places, her guiding star even when the clouds closed in.

It had been the blanket in which she had swaddled herself, and like a baby's blanket, it had proven a fragile thing, inadequate. Her destiny, her greatness, none of it had prevented her from being used by Sonata, just as all these other men and women had.

Cinder had never thought to have anything in common with such people as these, still less to have in common that they had been slaves.

She hated it. She hated it all the more because she could not escape it. It would always be a part of her, just as it would always be a part of them, something binding them together for all that they knew it not.

At least she had been able to free herself, after a fashion. If Sunset had set her free, then that would have been unbearably demeaning. She wouldn't have been able to look Sunset in the face again without being constantly reminded of how much she owed to her; the debt would have been infuriating.

As it was, by having set herself free, Cinder could look at Sunset. She could watch her as she and an Atlesian soldier carried the First Councillor of Vale out towards one of the Atlesian airships. The Councillor did not look in a good way, but then, being shot had that effect. Still, Atlesian medicine was very advanced; a simple gunshot wound shouldn't be beyond their capabilities.

The Atlesian soldier stopped at the airship, but Sunset got on board with the injured Councillor, and Cinder lost sight of her as the airship door slammed shut. Still, she kept her eyes upon the Skyray as it rose into the night sky, taking off towards … wherever it was going. To get help for the Councillor, one presumed.

Cinder wondered if Sunset might stay up there for the rest of the battle. Probably not, but if she did, it would no doubt be safer than other places she could go.

For herself, Cinder resumed her course, moving amongst the disoriented, disaffected, distracted Valish soldiers. Moving amongst her fellow ex-slaves.

Cinder attempted not to seem as though she were moving with too much purpose, that she were as aimless as all the rest, as driven by random impulse and no coherent plan. Either it worked, or she just passed unnoticed, but no one challenged her, not even when she made her way into the deserted lobby of the building. There was a security door wide open, and Cinder ventured, quickening her step to reach it before — or in case — it closed. Her boots squeaked on the floor as she passed through the door, her pace quickening all the while so that, as she burst out into the street beyond the building, she was running.

She ran to where the barricade closing off the street had been broken down, where a silent and motionless tank with a sawn-off gun barrel sat with unconscious soldiers lying all around it. Sunset's work, no doubt, it was how she had gotten in here in the first place. Now, Cinder ran past that handiwork, and now, her glass in the rucksack clinked and clanked and clattered as she jogged it with her motions.

There was a hole in the road, and the same blast that made it had blown out the fronts of the buildings on either side also; Cinder dived into one of them, picking her way through the rubble of the blast into the bathroom, which had not been affected.

There, putting her rucksack down, she started to take off her stolen green jacket.

She stopped, looking at her neck, her bare neck, her neck which had, not too long ago, hosted that atrocious collar. Cinder stroked her bare neck with one hand, black nails scratching against pale skin. Her choker had been a simple thing, a plain and ordinary-looking black thing, but it had been hers, of her own choosing. Sonata had taken that away from her and replaced it with that hideous, awful, unbearable, mocking symbol of her enslavement. That was gone, gods be praised, but now, her neck was bare. Her neck was bare because her choice had been taken away.

Replacing it, then, was her first order of business. Replace it, and she might feel a little more herself.

And after that…

"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."

The Atlesian medical frigate was not that much smaller than one of their cruisers; standing up, Sunset could look into the cockpit of the Skyray and then beyond, out of the window, to the ship that was their destination. The Comfort was rounder in shape than the cruisers, with a rounded, spherical hull and the only angles coming with the engine block mounted at the rear. The frigate was all white, lacking the blacks or dark greys of the warships; on the side was painted a very large and unmistakable red staff with a complex knot forming a four-pointed star set on top of it. It was the traditional symbol for healing and healthcare, although Sunset could not entirely remember why.

Sunset turned away from the ship, and looked down at Councillor Emerald. He was on the stretcher now, secured to the floor so that its movements wouldn't disturb him. He looked up at the ceiling with eyes that seemed a little unfocussed, worryingly so.

"Councillor?" Sunset asked softly, so as not to disturb the pilots, as she knelt down beside him. "Councillor, can you still hear me?"

Councillor Emerald blinked twice and turned his gaze slowly towards her. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I can hear you, Miss Shimmer."

"Good," Sunset said. "Good that … that's good. We don't want you wandering off anywhere."

Councillor Emerald blinked, although that word implied a greater speed than he actually demonstrated in the opening and closing of his eyes. "Miss Shimmer?"

"Yes, Councillor?"

"Will you … will you do me a favour?"

"That depends," Sunset said. "I'm not taking any dying messages for you because you're not dying."

"If … if I—"

"No," Sunset insisted. "No, Councillor, I'm not doing it. Save your breath, save your words, tell them yourself, because you're not going anywhere. We're almost there, and then some very talented people are going to fix you right up."

Councillor Emerald smiled faintly. "So confident, Miss Shimmer?"

"I refuse to admit any other outcome, Councillor," Sunset said stiffly.

"In that case, I ask that you go and see Bramble and tell him that I'll be fine," Councillor Emerald said softly. "Don't hide from him just because you're ashamed that I was hurt."

Sunset shifted awkwardly in place. "You … your grasp on my nature is astonishing, considering the brevity of our acquaintance. You must be a very good judge of character."

Councillor Emerald looked away. "Not … as much as I might like."

The side door of the Skyray slid open — distracted by talking to the Councillor, Sunset hadn't noticed that they were landing; even the movement of the airship as it slid inside had passed her by — and Sunset's eyes were met by a docking bay as white as the exterior of the frigate, a nearly barren space devoid of stacked crates or equipment or anything that might interrupt rapid movement, a docking bay that was as full of orderlies in green coveralls as it was deck crew in orange vests.

Two of the aforementioned orderlies were standing right outside the airship when the door opened. They sprang inside and began working assiduously to undo the straps that held the Councillor's stretcher down.

"Is this the VIP?" one of them asked without ceremony.

"Yes," Sunset said. "Yes, that's Councillor Emerald; he's been shot."

"Affirmative. OR's already been prepped for surgery."

"Let's go. On two. One, two."

They lifted the Councillor's stretcher up, bearing him quickly — but not without gentleness — out of the airship and onto a hovering table that was waiting to receive him. There was a tank strapped to the underside of the platform, with a face mask and a rubber tube joining the two. As Sunset watched, one of the two orderlies placed the mask on top of the Councillor's mouth. His antlers prevented them from strapping it on, but it stayed in place.

Councillor Emerald's eyes found Sunset again as the two orderlies bore him away. As the Councillor's eyes stayed on her, Sunset found herself following the platform. She left the airship and trailed after the two orderlies, keeping pace with them even as she lagged a little behind.

She followed the platform down stark white corridors, without the stains that Sunset might have expected, past robots doing menial tasks — they seemed to be the ones partly responsible for the absence of stains — who all rolled out of the way as the trolley came by, buzzing and beeping and making a variety of wordless scratching noises as they made a hole for the Councillor, and for Sunset following hard behind. She followed them past wards lined with beds, some of which were occupied already but most of which were empty, until they took the Councillor into a smaller surgical ward, where a transparent door closed in Sunset's face and showed no sign of opening.

Sunset stood in front of the door nonetheless, not because she thought it would open but because … why was she here? Why was she standing here like this, watching as a nurse swapped out the mask on Councillor Emerald's face for a different one, attached to a larger tank — of air, or maybe oxygen — mounted in the corner of the room? Why was she watching as doctors and nurses in blue scrubs, with their hands covered in surgical gloves, their faces sat behind transparent visors, got to work removing the Councillor's clothes, cutting away the bandage that Sunset had used to staunch the bleeding — blood spilled out of the Councillor's body.

Sunset frowned and wanted to look away but couldn't. She was stuck there, frozen, unable to do anything to help, unable to do anything but watch. Even when the medical team crowded around the Councillor and made it so Sunset couldn't see him anymore, she still wasn't able to look away. She was stuck there, because … because she was hoping that she could see enough to say with confidence that he was going to be fine.

A curtain drew across the door; it must have been triggered remotely, or else it moved automatically, because no one came over to draw the curtain. It just drew, concealing everything, even the doctors and nurses, from Sunset's sight.

Still she stayed there, rooted to the spot, staring at the blue curtain that told her nothing.

"He's very lucky."

Sunset started and looked around to see a nurse standing beside her. She was a tall woman, dark skinned after the Atlesian fashion, with black hair tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in blue, with translucent blue plastic bags on her shoes, half-concealing the white trainers underneath.

Sunset wondered if she ought to have put those on, but nobody had told her to.

The nurse held out a pair to her.

"Thanks," Sunset murmured, as she lifted up one leg and started pulling a bag over her boot. "'Lucky'?"

"Serious casualties are still quite light, so your friend was able to get taken to surgery immediately, and not just because he's a VIP," the nurse explained. "Plus, he's in the best hands. Doctor Song is an excellent surgeon. She could be making six figures in private practice if he wanted to."

"Then why isn't he?" asked Sunset.

"Because she'd rather help people than help her bank balance," the nurse replied. She glanced at the blue curtain that seemed to half-mock Sunset with its presence, and a faint smile flitted across her lips even as a sigh escaped from them. She returned her attention to Sunset. "I know that this might not seem like my place, and I know that after you brought him in here, it must seem like he's your responsibility … but the battle isn't over yet. You might want to think about whether this is the best place you can be right now."

She didn't give Sunset a chance to respond. She turned away and walked off down the corridor, leaving Sunset staring after her.

Was that a gentle way of ordering me off the ship, or…?

Whatever the motive for it, Sunset couldn't really deny that the nurse was correct; she couldn't do anything for Councillor Emerald just staring at this curtain, and it wasn't as though she couldn't do anything for anyone else either.

Of course, what else she could do for other people depended in no small part on the willingness of other people to tolerate her presence. Looking after Councillor Emerald, going with him, it had all had the advantage that she could do her part without needing to trouble Ruby — or risk Ruby's response if she came near her. Now…

With fighting going on in so many places, I'm sure I can find somewhere to be that Ruby isn't. If there's still fighting in Vale, then I can lend a hand there.

Sunset started back down the corridor, the way that she had come, when she was interrupted by the sound of orderlies crying out for people to make room. She pressed herself against the wall, Soteria and Sol Invictus tapping against the white tiles, as four orderlies rushed two more hovering platforms through. The first carried — was that Flash? Sunset caught a flash of blue hair, a familiar face — and blood, a lot of blood, blood dripping off the trolley and onto the floor.

"Flash?" Sunset whispered, but the orderlies rushed past her with their trolley, and she lost sight of Flash, or whoever was on there; she couldn't see, she could only see the orderlies as they rushed the trolley into another operating theatre.

Sunset might have followed to that door, but the second platform was hard upon the first, and she couldn't move. That platform had Cardin on it, she was certain of it, he was sitting up, and he looked at Sunset as he was pushed on by.

"Sunset?" he asked.

"Cardin?" Sunset murmured. "Cardin!" she yelled and followed him because if Cardin was here, then the odds of Flash having been pushed into that operating theatre just went up alarmingly. Sunset looked behind her, in case she saw Weiss or Russel being borne in as well, but there was no sign of either of them, just bare corridor and robots cleaning up the blood.

So Sunset followed Cardin, her shoe-covers crunching; the orderlies brought him into a large room with a lot of beds, all of them empty. Cardin got off the trolley himself and stood up as the orderlies started to remove his armour.

"Cardin!" Sunset repeated as she came in, trying to get a better look at him over or around the medical orderlies. "Cardin, what happened to you? Where's Weiss and Russel and … and…?" Was that Flash I just saw going into surgery? The words stuck in her throat; she could not say them.

"Sunset?" Cardin said, taking a step towards her before being sharply reminded to stay put. "Sunset, what are you doing here?" His blue eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. "You don't look hurt."

"No, I brought someone wounded up here," Sunset said. "Councillor Emerald."

Cardin's eyes widened. "Councillor Emerald's been wounded?"

"He's in surgery now," Sunset explained. "They tell me that he's in good hands."

"I'm sure he is, but … dammit!" Cardin snapped. "What happened?"

"He was … he got the military to lay down their arms and stop fighting the Atlesians," Sunset said. "But he was wounded doing it."

"And you were there?" Cardin asked. "I thought you were leaving on a special mission."

Right. Mount Aris. The grimm. "Helping Councillor Emerald stop a war turned out to be an even more special mission," Sunset murmured. "I … I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him from getting hurt. I was fighting, and … I thought I'd taken care of everyone in the room, but someone else slipped in without me noticing."

"It happens, I guess," Cardin muttered. "So long as he's okay. The last thing we need is to lose another First Councillor."

"And the last thing his son needs is to lose another parent," Sunset muttered. "So … what happened to you?"

"Beringel," Cardin growled. "Busted up my arm. That's why I need help taking my armour off like a little kid." He looked at Sunset. "And yeah, you saw right, that was Flash on the other trolley. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Sunset repeated. "You…" she shook her head. "You don't have to be … I mean … how is he?"

"The grimm messed him up pretty good," Cardin said. "I think … his legs…"

Cardin didn't say anymore. He didn't need to say any more; his silence was speaking for him more loudly than any words could have.

His legs. He was going to lose his legs.

He was such a good dancer. That thought, that utterly absurd thought, was at the forefront of Sunset's mind. It meant nothing, it mattered less, it was utterly trivial and completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, and yet, at Cardin's words, at his implications, it was the only thought in Sunset's mind. The memory of school dances at Canterlot filled her mind, the way Flash could move, the rhythm he possessed, the way that he could dance formally with grace or get down to it with style and vigour in equal measure, it consumed Sunset's mind.

And now, he was going to lose his legs. Those legs that he had used to dance so well, to look so good, to impress so much … he was going to lose them.

Oh, Flash.

He'll walk again. He'll get a new pair of legs, and he'll walk again and run again and even fight again if he still wants to.

But he may never dance like that again.

Oh, Flash.

"And, um," Sunset murmured. "And your other teammates?"

"They're fine," Cardin said. "I mean, they're not hurt, anyway. Weiss unlocked a new part of her semblance to save our lives."

"Good for her," Sunset muttered. It sounded harsher than maybe was necessary, but it was hard to feel a lot of enthusiasm for Weiss' accomplishment when Flash was about to lose his legs. Couldn't she have done it a little sooner?

Sunset took a step backwards. "Take care of yourself, Cardin," she said. "And if you see Flash, tell him I said … I said I'm sorry."

"You're going back out there?" Cardin asked.

Sunset nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I can't just hang around here, can I?"

"Then give 'em hell for us, okay?" Cardin said.

Sunset smiled grimly. "You bet," she said, and left him in the capable hands of the orderlies. For her own part, she strode briskly down the corridor, retracing her steps until she had made it back to the hangar bay.

There were no airships; they had all gone, and they hadn't been there to offer her taxi rides anyway. The airships were all gone, but the hangar doors were still open, and it couldn't be much farther from here down to Vale than it was from the clifftop into the forest.

Sunset walked to the edge of the landing bay and looked down to make sure that she wasn't going to drop straight onto another incoming airship. There were none. As far as she could see, the skies were clear.

Councillor, Flash, I'll bring you both some flowers when I come visit.

For now, though, once more into the breach.

But not the Breach, thank Celestia.

Anyway, here I come.

Sunset jumped and began to fall away from the Comfort and down, back down, towards the city of Vale.

And towards the battles that waited there.

Author's Note

Mastermind, in a comment on the last chapter, posted a video from the end of Transformers Prime, and honestly, that was quite a coincidence to see because it had been on my mind as I wrote the Cinder bit here.

Iron with Two Rs (New)

Iron with Two Rs

Ruby rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand as she sat up on the … on the floor. The floor of … Professor Ozpin's office?

Yes, it was Professor Ozpin's office; there was the glass desk behind which the headmaster was wont to sit, and in that chair with its high back, and there overhead were the gears of the clock, grinding on without a break.

They had ground on so much that it was dark outside.

Ruby slowly got up off the floor. "Professor?" she asked, her voice still caught in that mumbled tone that follows waking up.

There was no answer. Ruby looked around, turning in a circle. She had woken up in Professor Ozpin's office, but Professor Ozpin wasn't here. She was in his office, but he wasn't. And it was dark outside, night had fallen, when the last thing Ruby remembered was—

"Amber!" Ruby cried, as the cobwebs of her mind were all blown away, and she remembered what had happened — or what she thought had happened, based on her last memories.

The last thing she remembered was her being in her dorm room — or the Team SAPR dorm room, given her resolve to leave it — with Amber and Dove. She had been … she and Amber had exchanged words, about Sunset, and Ruby's plans, and then…

And then Amber had used her semblance on Ruby.

Ruby had seen it before. Amber had shown it to all of them, on the day before yesterday, when they'd all been experimenting to find the limits of Penny's newfound semblance. Amber had shown them the motes of golden light that drifted through the air and … and put people to sleep. The way that Ruby had been put to sleep.

But why would Amber do such a thing? Why would Amber want to put Ruby to sleep when Ruby was there to protect her?

Her dream supplied an answer: that Amber had betrayed them to Salem for the promise of her own life. But that was a dream, and while it was a dream that had been satisfying in parts and in other parts had helped her come to terms with some feelings and frustrations, on the subject of Amber — or the Fall Maiden — she couldn't jump to any conclusions. Just because she had dreamed of Amber — or someone transparently based on Amber — as a villainess, it didn't make her one.

Although what other reason would she have for putting Ruby to sleep like that?

And how had she ended up in Professor Ozpin's office? Why hadn't she woken up in the dorm room? Obviously, someone had brought her to the Professor's office, but who? Amber, or Dove? Amber had put her to sleep but then carried her to Professor Ozpin? That made even less sense than Amber putting her to sleep in the first place.

Made less sense, unless…

Ruby didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to have special dreams that told her the … the present, she guessed, or the near past; she didn't want to have worked out the whole thing in her dream when the thing that she had worked out was so terrible to contemplate.

She didn't want Amber to have betrayed them; she didn't want to believe that of her.

Ruby and Amber had never been best friends, she hadn't been — she wasn't, Ruby reminded herself to think in the present tense and not write Amber off just yet — as close to her as Sunset and Pyrrha, or even as much as Ciel, but all the same, she had liked the Fall Maiden well enough, and she thought that Amber had liked her well enough too. Amber had been scared and hopeless, but that was fine by Ruby because she wasn't a huntress. She was one of the people that huntresses had to protect, and so, she had the right to be as much of a coward as she wanted to be. Huntresses were the only people who had to be brave.

But there was a difference between a coward and a traitor, and Ruby didn't want Amber to have crossed that line, didn't want to believe that she had.

It was dark outside. Maybe the tournament was over already and Jaune and Pyrrha and Penny had come back down and found her asleep in the dorm?

But why would they take her to Professor Ozpin? And why would she be just left here like this on the floor?

Ruby walked to the windows that surrounded the chamber. Looking out across Beacon, she could see … not a lot, but some of the buildings did look kind of damaged, while when she looked to the sky dock at the back of the school, looking out across Beacon, she could see a lot of people queueing up to get on board airships: a line of people all looking really small from up here.

And beyond the docks, Vale: Vale that had gone dark in patches, all the lights off, whole districts blacked out.

While she had been sleeping, while she had been sleeping because of Amber, the attack that Cinder had warned Pyrrha and Sunset of had started.

The attack had started, and she, Ruby, had slept through it.

There was a battle raging, and she had been asleep.

Asleep!

Because Amber had put her to sleep!

Whatever her reasons, even if Amber wasn’t actively malicious, even if there was an explanation — although Ruby was hard pressed to come up with one — for what she’d done, there was no excuse for that, none at all!

Just like there was no excuse for Ruby standing around up here when the great attack foretold by Cinder had commenced.

Rose petals trailed after her, drifting down like drops of blood to land lazily upon the floor as Ruby raced across the office to the elevator. She hammered upon the button to summon the lift repeatedly, pressing it over and over again at rapid speed, not because she thought that it would make the elevator come any faster — although maybe it would, you never knew — but because she couldn’t just stand there doing nothing. She had to do something, even if it was only mashing the button on the elevator.

The lift arrived; Ruby was through the door before it had even finished opening, before the bell had rung. She pushed the button for the ground floor even before the door had opened on Professor Ozpin’s office, and she then had to wait for the doors to open fully, stay open for a few seconds that felt to Ruby like agonising hours — as agonising as the amount of time that she had passed asleep while the battle raged — before the door ground closed again, taking an eternity to do so.

Finally, finally, at long last, the lift began to descend. It would have been quicker to have thrown herself down the shaft, but at least the elevator was moving. It would get her down eventually.

And once she got down there, she would…

Well, she would join the battle, obviously, wherever that might be. Ruby found that she was forming … she was forming a guess as to what had happened to her since Amber had put her to sleep. Amber had put her to sleep for … whatever reason, Ruby still wasn't ready to condemn her just yet, but anyway, what was undeniable was that Amber had put Ruby to sleep, and then after that, her teammates had found her, and then, with the battle starting and them not able to wake her up — it was a pity that Penny's semblance couldn't work on other people, but Ruby could understand why that was; it wasn't even as though Penny's semblance stood out in that regard — they had taken her to Professor Ozpin's office. Because it was safer there than anywhere else, maybe, or because they'd hoped that Professor Ozpin might be able to wake her up. He hadn't been, or at least if he had, he'd moved very quickly afterwards to get out of his office before Ruby had realised where she was, but Ruby could understand why they hadn't just wanted to leave her in the dorm room.

It had been … considerate of them to move her.

That was not a motive she might have so readily ascribed before Amber had put her to sleep. It had reached the point where she had found it hard to attribute anything so considerate as consideration to her teammates. But sleeping, dreaming, it had … it had given her, not a whole new perspective, but it had enabled her to work out some things, to straighten out in her mind what had been a crooked maze before.

She felt as though specks had been plucked from her silver eyes.

But the consequences of that all lay ahead. For now, there was a battle to be fought and won, and she was not asleep, so she had no more excuse for failing to be a part of it.

Once she reached the bottom of the tower, then she would have to find out where exactly the battle was being fought, and then get there. Both might present some obstacles, depending on how long the battle had been raging or how it was going right now, but the more immediate issue was the 'where.' The 'where' would in some part shape the 'how.'

The blackouts that Ruby had seen from Professor Ozpin's tower suggested that the battle was being waged somewhere in Vale, and that … Ruby examined the memories of Cinder's confession, as told to them all by Pyrrha that morning: an Equestrian creature had subverted the Valish military.

Ruby did not wish, as she had wished that morning, that she had never heard the name Equestria, but she did wish that they would keep their creatures to themselves in their own world and not trouble Remnant with them. They had problems enough of their own here in Remnant, more than enough, without dealing with those of other places too.

She also wished that Professor Ozpin had acceded to her request to let them go and hunt the creature down before it could do all this. If he had, then maybe this could have been avoided. Or perhaps not; Professor Ozpin had been afraid that it wouldn't be so easy. Professor Ozpin was afraid, as Sunset was afraid, as Amber was afraid; everyone was frightened, everyone was terrified except for her.

Ruby no longer railed inwardly against that as she had done. It might be a flaw on all their parts, but when a flaw became that common, there wasn't much to do but shrug and make the best of it.

Fear was not malice, it was not wickedness; though it might produce wicked outcomes, it did not travel there by the same roads, with the same aims in mind and heart and soul.

Fear was something to be lamented, caution was something to be regretted when it gave the truly wicked freedom to act, but neither was to be … they did not deserve to be met with wrath.

Rather they should be met with pity … and forgiveness.

Forgiveness if possible.

All of that being said, Ruby could not help but be irked by the knowledge that if Professor Ozpin had allowed them to go into Vale and look for this Equestrian monster, then Amber wouldn't have been in a position to put her to sleep, and even if they hadn't been able to stop the battle, then she wouldn't have missed any of it either.

But Pyrrha's absence from the tournament would have been noticed, and not just in an 'I wonder where Pyrrha Nikos is' kind of way. More in a 'Where is Pyrrha Nikos!? Where is our Champion, where is our Princess Without a Crown? What have you Atlas scum done with her? Search high and low in all of Vale till she is found' kind of way. The kind of way that made things … awkward.

After all, they couldn't just tell everyone the Vytal Tournament had just become pointless on account of the impending attack. That might have been … bad.

But that was all in the past, all behind, all as irrelevant as the Vytal tournament itself; the battle was what mattered now — where was the battle? — she would need to find out where the battle was; was it in Vale? It seemed so, but were they fighting beyond the city too? Out by the Green Line? Had the grimm perhaps already breached the Green Line and started to advance upon the Red?

She would go…

She would go wherever the fighting was thickest. Or should she go wherever there were people most in need? After all, just because the fighting was thickest in one place didn't mean that absolutely everyone was needed there: if the fighting was thickest, it was probably because a lot of people were there already. If the grimm were attacking from outside Vale, then that was probably where a lot of people were already, but that might mean that the Valish troops who'd been taken over by the Equestrian creature would have the free run of the city to do whatever they liked — or whatever the creature controlling them liked — so maybe Ruby should go there instead.

It was a tough decision, and as the elevator continued to descend the tower, Ruby could see why people like Rainbow Dash or even Blake found it easier to just put all their trust in someone like General Ironwood, let him make all the decisions. Go here, go there, do this, do that. It was simple. It was straightforward. You didn't have to worry about whether or not you'd made the right decision because 'the General' had made it for you.

Life was simpler that way.

But Ruby didn't want that kind of simplicity. Lots of things were simple, a lot simpler than a lot of people claimed that they were, but not everything ought to be. Some things, some choices, you ought not to hand over to someone else; some choices, you ought to take responsibility for yourself, even if they were hard to make. Especially if they were hard to make.

She would go … it was pointless to decide now, stuck in this elevator, her legs twitching beneath her as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, waiting for it to reach the bottom. She didn't know what was going on; she'd only seen that parts of Vale had been hit by blackouts. For all she knew, the crisis in Vale had been resolved, and they were about to get the power back on.

For all she knew, the battle was over.

And wouldn't that be terrific? Ruby thought, half sarcastically. Only half because, on one level, of course, it would be terrific; it would be terrific if the fighting was all wrapped up and done with already and nobody was in any more danger.

But she still thought it half sarcastically because if the battle was over and she'd slept through the whole thing, then … she wouldn't be very happy about it, however nice it was for everyone else.

She shouldn't want to fight for the sake of it, she shouldn't want to fight if it meant that she put people in danger, but … she kind of did. She wanted to fight, she didn't want to sleep the battle away, she wanted to prove … Ruby was hard pressed to say what, exactly, she wanted to prove, but she wanted to prove something.

Of course, however the battle was going, whether it was taking place in Vale or outside of Vale or both or even if the fighting was over, the first place Ruby would have to go would be back to the dorm room because whoever had carried her to Professor Ozpin's office had forgotten to bring Crescent Rose with them.

She couldn't fight anywhere without her weapon; without a weapon anyway, and she might as well use hers because she'd scrabble around for a different one even if she'd wanted it.

The lift finally, finally, came to a stop, and the doors began to open on the almost fluorescent green of the tower lobby.

Ruby burst out through the doors, trailing more rose petals after her, then slowing down a little as she approached the doors that would lead out of the tower itself and into the square beyond.

She started to get her scroll out — she still had that with her, even if she didn't have her weapon — with one hand as she reached for the button to open the door with the other. She would call … she would call … Professor Ozpin? Penny, maybe. No, Professor Ozpin; Penny would know how the fighting was going where she was, wherever that might be, but Professor Ozpin could tell her how the whole battle was going and how she'd ended up in his office, and also, she could tell him about Amber putting her to sleep, and maybe he could guess why she'd done it.

And then, once he had told her everything, Ruby could decide where she was going to go.

Which was not necessarily where Penny was.

In fact—

Ruby pushed the button. The door unlocked with a clunk, and Ruby pulled it open with her free hand, stepping out into the darkness.

She had only just started to descend the steps when she saw that there was no need to call Professor Ozpin, because he was standing in the square, not far from the tower.

So, for that matter, were Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha.

Perhaps they only just left me in Professor Ozpin's office.

Perhaps I haven't been asleep for very long after all.

I've been asleep long enough for it to get dark; the sun was still up when Amber used her semblance on me.

Maybe they didn't find me for a while?

Ruby put her scroll away; she had only half-taken out in any case, so it was an easy thing to slip it back into its pouch; as she walked down the steps and across the square to where they stood, she found herself pushing her shoulders back.

She had nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't her fault that Amber had put her to sleep.

But she was a little ashamed all the same. She just didn't want them to know it.

"Ruby!" Penny cried. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," Ruby replied, in a voice that was level and even, without much enthusiasm in it but without any lack of it either. She didn't smile. "Yeah, I am."

"Welcome back, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said genially.

Ruby looked at him. "Professor," she said, "I know this might sound crazy, but Amber did this to me. She used her semblance to put me to sleep. It's the last thing I remember: we were in the dorm room, and then all of a sudden, Amber was holding out her hand, and all those motes of light were coming towards me, and … and that's all I remember; it must have been when I fell asleep."

Ruby did not receive the reaction that she was expecting. Nobody gasped in shock; nobody protested that she must be mistaken or confused. Instead, Professor Ozpin closed his eyes, and his face became pinched and drawn looking as though he'd just been hurt. Penny bit her lip and looked away. Jaune looked at Pyrrha, while Pyrrha clutched at her long red sash with both hands, fussing with it as her cheeks reddened.

"You … you knew?" Ruby asked. "You knew, but … how?"

"When we found you in the dorm room, on your own," Penny began. She stopped, then started again. "We found you in the dorm room on your own," she said. "You were being eaten by an ursa, and then even after we killed it, we couldn't wake you up. And then Pyrrha—"

"I am afraid that I was forewarned that Amber was … not to be trusted," Professor Ozpin murmured, his voice soft but firm enough to silence Penny regardless. "Miss Fall told me so last night."

"Cinder?" Ruby gasped. "Cinder said…" She looked at Pyrrha. "You didn't say anything about this this morning!"

"I did not believe it," Professor Ozpin declared. "Miss Fall offered no proof, only supposition. She claimed that, because Miss Shadow was a traitor, a servant of Salem, and because she had protected Amber last night, then Amber must also be in league with our enemies."

"All this time?" Ruby murmured. "But then why would—?"

"No, Miss Rose, not all this time," Professor Ozpin corrected her. "Miss Fall claimed that this was a very recent development. I repeat that she offered no proof; in fact, she didn't even claim to know for sure, only to have surmised it based on Miss Shadow's proximity to Amber. She claimed that Salem had promised Amber safety in exchange for the Relic of Choice." He paused. "As I say, I did not believe it. I did not wish to believe it. I didn't want to think so ill of Amber."

"And so you kept it a secret," Ruby said, her voice sharpening. "Both of you." And Sunset too, she might have added, except that Sunset hadn't been in much of a position to say anything that morning, had she? She probably would have kept it a secret just like Pyrrha and Professor Ozpin, but it was hard to blame her for keeping silent from the house of Novo Aris in Vale.

And I wouldn’t have wanted to hear from her anywhere. I might not have believed her if she had said anything.

"You should have said something."

"Repeated a lie?" Pyrrha said. "Spread slanders and suspicion without grounds?"

"Except there were grounds, weren't there?" Ruby pointed out.

"Miss Nikos is not to blame, Miss Rose; I take full responsibility for this," Professor Ozpin said. "I was adamant that Amber could not have done such a thing, that the monstrous accusations were without grounds, unworthy to be entertained. Even after Miss Polendina, Miss Nikos, and Mister Arc brought you to me, sleeping, I did not want to believe it."

Ruby thought that Professor Ozpin was covering for Pyrrha a bit there, but there was no point in arguing with that. She had no doubt that Professor Ozpin hadn't wanted to believe it, just like Pyrrha. If she'd been in the room with Cinder and heard her, then Ruby wouldn't have wanted to believe it either. And it was Cinder, after all; it wasn't like she was someone incredibly trustworthy saying something that happened to make them uncomfortable; she was a snake who lied as easily as she breathed.

The fact that she hadn't been lying about this, the fact that she'd guessed right, was unfortunate, but deciding not to believe her and not to tell other people what she'd said was … it wasn't the worst thing that anyone had ever done, or the hardest to understand.

Professor Ozpin had loved Amber, and Pyrrha had liked her a great deal; of course they hadn't wanted to believe that she would be capable of selling out to Salem to save her own skin.

Ruby hadn't wanted to believe it herself, and she wasn't nearly as close to her as either of them.

She still didn't like to believe it, for all that her subconscious had essentially called it without any help from Cinder while she was asleep.

It was one thing to be afraid, to be terrified; that was fine; that was even natural in the right situation. Amber might even be the normal one and Ruby the weirdo for not feeling any fear. But to act on that fear by doing this, by turning her back on … no, it wasn't even the betrayal. Loyalty wasn't all it was cracked up to be; at some point, you might have to stand up for higher principles; there were times when it might be the right thing to betray someone, even someone close to you. Betraying them wasn't Amber's crime. Colluding in … in Ruby didn't know exactly what because she hadn't gotten any details of the battle that was — or might be — still going on was Amber's crime. Putting Vale in danger and being willing to hand one of the four Relics over to Salem, that was Amber's crime.

A crime for which it was hard to find forgiveness. Right now, the only reason not to kill Amber was that doing so would make Cinder the Fall Maiden, and while there was a solution to that too, it carried risks with it: the risk that the powers would pass from Cinder to … who knew? It might not be possible to ensure the magic transferred to someone virtuous and trustworthy.

And anyway, who is trustworthy nowadays? Everyone seems to be unreliable.

Ruby pushed that thought aside; it was making her a little uncomfortable. "Where is Amber now?"

"We're not entirely sure," Jaune said. "We talked to Benni, and she told us that she saw Amber leaving the school grounds by the road that leads to Vale; she was with Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Tempest Shadow."

"And you didn't go after her?" Ruby demanded.

"General Ironwood told us not to," Penny said. "He said—"

"General Ironwood isn't your boss anymore," Ruby declared. "You're supposed to be a—" She stopped, taking a breath. Snapping at Penny wouldn't help, and anyway, she didn't deserve it; yes, Ruby would have gone after Amber, tried to catch up with her, apprehend her to be dealt with once the crisis had passed, but Penny … Penny had decided to consult an authority figure, someone older, someone who was supposed to be wiser, someone who could take the responsibility off her shoulders. As Ruby had admitted to herself on the way down the tower, there was something comforting in doing that, even if that didn't make it right.

"I'm sorry, Penny," Ruby said. "What did General Ironwood say?"

"That if we couldn't find Amber in a quick search of the grounds, or if we found out that she'd gone, we should prioritise the defence of the school," Jaune told her. "There were grimm attacking, and Rainbow and the others were struggling to keep people safe long enough for the airships to take them off."

"I see," Ruby murmured, wishing that she could shrink a little bit and in the shrinking cause her earlier outburst to be overlooked. General Ironwood's reasoning, and the reasoning of the others for going along with it, was hard to argue with. She couldn't see any grimm right now, but Jaune wouldn't lie to her and pretend that there had been a grimm attack on Beacon when there hadn't been, and it would explain the damaged buildings that she'd seen from up in the headmaster's office. If there had been a grimm attack — there had been a grimm attack; she had faith in Jaune — and if people had been in danger, which made sense, then it also made sense to make protecting them the highest priority. Protecting people, protecting the weak, was, after all, the highest good of the huntsman.

The only argument against it was that if Salem got her hands on one of the Relics, then the whole of Remnant would be one step closer to destruction, and it wouldn't matter how many people they protected from the grimm because they would all just die later, but by that argument … there had to be limits. Huntsmen and huntresses should be prepared to die for the greater good, but for everyone else? For the ordinary people? You couldn't just start shovelling their lives onto the scales like jellybeans and seeing which of them weighed less; once you did that … that was how Mantle had ended up the way it had, before the war; you couldn't go down that road.

You had to fight for every life, except when it belonged to a huntsman. Or an enemy.

No, they had done the right thing, and Ruby felt embarrassed by her earlier outburst. "Right," she said softly, "I see." She cleared her throat, but as much as she intended to run past that as swiftly as if she'd been using her semblance, she couldn't quite bring herself to look at any of them, especially at Penny. "So, what's the situation?"

"Professor Ozpin just defeated the grimm!" Penny declared.

Now, Ruby looked at Professor Ozpin. "You led the defence?" she asked. It wasn't a question that really needed to be asked — of course the Headmaster of Beacon had led the defence of Beacon — but it was one of those things that made her especially rue her Amber-induced slumber. She wished that she could have seen it, Professor Ozpin commanding the battle the way that he had commanded Ozpin's stand; she wished that she could have been a part of it, the way that Team STRQ had been part of that earlier battle.

Hopefully, she'd get another chance tonight, if the battle wasn't over already.

"No, he just killed them all," Penny said. "With this staff. There was a bright light that spread out across the whole school, and it burned all the grimm away."

"A little," Professor Ozpin began, then paused. "A rather substantial, I must admit, touch of…"

"Magic?" Ruby guessed.

"Not exactly; kinetic energy, but stored up through magical means, yes," Professor Ozpin. "Sadly, it's not something you should expect me to be able to do again."

"Hopefully, you won't need to, Professor," Pyrrha said. "Thanks to Professor Ozpin, the grimm have been destroyed at the school, but everyone is still being evacuated up to the Amity Arena."

"Because there's trouble in Vale too, right?" Ruby said. "Just like Cinder said there would be."

One of the things you did tell us that she said.

Jaune nodded. "First, it was grimm cultists attacking all over the place, but then General Blackthorn went on TV and declared martial law and a curfew, and … it all sounded pretty nuts. And pretty bad."

"Professor Goodwitch took some volunteer students into Vale to assist the police in maintaining order, before the grimm attack on the school began," Professor Ozpin explained. "I fear she may be having more difficulty than either she or I anticipated."

"You didn't go with them?" Ruby asked.

"We hadn't gotten down from the Amity Arena yet; there were grimm all around it," Penny pointed out.

Ruby licked her lips. “Right,” she said softly. “Right, of course you hadn’t; I… please go on, what happened?"

"How long have you been asleep?" asked Jaune.

"Since … before the finals," Ruby said. "Was there a finals, did you get to finish the tournament?"

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"And Pyrrha won," Jaune added, a slight smile playing across his face.

"It hardly seems worth saying now," Pyrrha murmured.

"I can see why Jaune did," Ruby said softly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said quietly. "In the circumstances—"

"I'm sure it made a lot of people very happy," Ruby told her. "And maybe that will give them some comfort tonight, even if things get … even if things are dark. And besides, like I was thinking on the way down, if you hadn't fought in the tournament, every Mistralian in Vale would have started searching the whole city for you or accusing Atlas of having you kidnapped to wreck their chances."

Pyrrha snorted. "I fear you may not be entirely wrong."

There was a moment of silence that felt almost companionable, before Ruby said, "So, the grimm attacked Amity Arena as well, or just stopped you from leaving?"

"Okay, as quick as I can, here's what happened so far," Jaune said. "Right after Pyrrha won her match, the grimm started attacking Amity Arena, but we held them off and protected everyone inside with the help of General Ironwood's airships. That's also when the Valish Defence Force went kinda nuts and started attacking the Atlesians, but they beat them and the grimm and cleared the sky. The plan was to evacuate everyone from Amity down to Beacon, since they couldn't go to Vale, but no sooner could we get down than the grimm started attacking Beacon. So we — the students — came down, leaving everyone else up in the Colosseum. We found you in the dorm room with Amber and Dove gone, and that's when we…" — he looked at Pyrrha — "realised what Amber must have done. We brought you to Professor Ozpin, found out that Amber had left the school, and then we joined the fight against the grimm. Then Professor Ozpin did his thing to destroy all the grimm, we came back here to see what had happened because it seemed like the blast had come from this way, and that's when you woke up. Or at least when you came down here." He took a deep breath.

"So what's happening in Vale?" asked Ruby. "Or with the grimm outside of Vale, have they started to attack?"

"Not yet, but it seems they are about to," Ozpin informed her. "General Ironwood and his officers believe so, at least. As for Vale, I—"

He was interrupted by his scroll going off.

"Under the circumstances, you will excuse me," Ozpin murmured. "This might be important." He tucked his cane under one arm and got his scroll out of his jacket pocket. When he opened it up, he said, "Ah, yes, it's James; this probably is important." He answered. "James?"

"Oz, have you heard Councillor Emerald's broadcast?" General Ironwood asked; Ruby couldn't see his face, but she could hear his voice emerging into the night.

"Councillor Emerald?" Ozpin asked. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."

"He broadcast from the Valish command centre, instructing all Valish forces to cease hostilities and imploring my troops to do the same," General Ironwood informed them. "He claimed that the hostile actions of General Blackthorn had been brought about by … mass delirium, whatever that means. Not long after that, my team reached the nerve centre of the Valish Defence Force and found General Blackthorn and his staff unconscious in a room that looked like a tornado had passed through it. And on the way, they passed Councillor Emerald, wounded, along with Miss Shimmer."

"Sunset?" Penny asked. "Sunset was there?"

"Penny?" asked General Ironwood.

Penny stood to attention, even though she didn't need to. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

"It's fine, Penny," General Ironwood assured her. "Yes, it seems that she's been keeping herself busy."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ozpin murmured. "Did your people find … anyone who was not connected with the Valish Defence Force present at the headquarters?"

"A dead girl," General Ironwood said. "About the same age as our students. They weren't able to identify her."

"I see," Professor Ozpin said softly. "And what effect has the … Councillor's broadcast produced?"

"It's taken the wind right out of the sails of the Valish," General Ironwood said. "According to my troops, they don't know what to do next, if they even knew why they were doing what they were doing. They're throwing down their weapons, and … they're like lost sheep, apparently. Colonel Sky Beak is trying to marshal them, but his problem isn't so much disobedience as aimlessness on the part of his soldiers."

"Interesting," Ozpin said, although he didn't sound particularly interested by it. "That's one less problem to worry about, thank goodness. You said Councillor Emerald was wounded?"

"Miss Shimmer took him to one of my medical frigates; he's in surgery now," General Ironwood reported. "I'm told he stands a good chance."

"Something else to be thankful for, if true; the last thing we need is another leadership contest," Ozpin replied. "Still, if the behaviour of the Valish is replicated all across Vale, then Glynda should be able to restore order without further assistance. Thank you for letting me know, James; it gladdens my heart."

"General Ironwood?" Penny interjected. "Do you…?" She glanced at Ruby. "Do you know where Sunset is now? Is she still with Councillor Emerald?"

"I don't think so, Penny," General Ironwood replied. "Unfortunately, I don't have a better answer for you than that."

"I see," Penny said softly. "Thank you, sir."

You want her to come back, don't you? Ruby thought.

She wasn't surprised, and while she might have been upset about it before tonight, now … it meant nothing to her. She didn't hate Sunset the way that she had done; sleep, a different understanding that came with sleep, had burned the anger out of her, like a fire sweeping through the forest, leaving only ash behind. The Witch of the Setting Sun was not wicked, only afraid, and fear deserved pity, not wrath. Sunset was … a pathetic creature, in some ways, in many ways; in a lot of respects, she was every bit as frightened, every bit as much a coward, as Amber was, save that Sunset's fears were for others than herself — she did not lack for personal courage, only moral courage. She deserved pity for that, and perhaps a degree of scorn, but hatred? To be the object of Ruby's undying enmity, to be her villain, her nightmare? Sunset didn't deserve that, and even if she had, she just wasn't worth it. Ruby had outgrown her; she could leave Sunset behind without a second glance, and she would.

So, then, let Penny have her back. Her and Pyrrha both, if they wanted it so, if Jaune would have it too. Let them be happy together, if they could; if they could trust Sunset. It made no difference to Ruby. She was on a different road now.

If this was what Penny wanted, let her have it.

"This is good news," Ozpin declared. "Very good news, but we still have at least one more battle ahead before the night ends. That being so, James, I will let you get to it. Pass my thanks to your doctors, for the care they are taking with Councillor Emerald and all our wounded."

"Will do, Oz," General Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

Ozpin put his scroll back into his jacket pocket. "It is a pity that she could not prevent the wounding of the First Councillor," he said, "but nevertheless, it seems Miss Shimmer has done well."

"But now she's done, she—" Penny began. She paused. "I mean that I would … I think that she—"

"You want Sunset to come back," Ruby said. "Don't you?"

Penny didn't reply. She shuffled an inch or two closer to Pyrrha.

Ruby began to continue. "It's—"

"Yes," Penny said, raising her head and speaking in a clear, firm voice. "Yes, I do. As the leader of this team, I think that we could use her help right now. I thought so when the school was under attack, and although the school is safe, Vale is about to come under attack next, and I still think we could use Sunset's help. I think this team will be stronger if Sunset's with us. And Jaune and Pyrrha both agree with me."

Ruby looked at Jaune. Pyrrha wasn't a surprise at all, but Jaune? She'd thought Jaune agreed with her, and while Ruby no longer objected to what Penny was asking, she was a little surprised to find that Jaune felt the same way.

Or is he only pretending to feel that way because he doesn't want to upset Pyrrha?

"Whatever mistakes Sunset's made," Jaune said, "we've never regretted having her around in a fight, have we? She's always had our backs."

Having our backs was never the problem, Ruby thought. "If that's what you want," she said.

Penny blinked. "You … you don't mind?"

"Not that it matters," Ruby said. "But no, I don't. You want Sunset on this team, then you can have her. And Jaune's right: the way Sunset performed in a fight was never the issue."

"And it is all hands on deck right now," Jaune added.

One corner of Ruby's lip twitched upwards. "From what General Ironwood said, it sounds as though Sunset's been swabbing the deck already," she pointed out. It sounded, reading between the lines of what General Ironwood had told Ozpin, that Sunset had killed the Equestrian creature and taken out General Blackwood and his entire command staff, breaking the magic spell and paving the way for Councillor Emerald, albeit wounded, to defuse the situation between the Valish and Atlesian forces.

If that's all you do tonight, Sunset, then you've done a pretty good job.

"Quite," Pyrrha said. "So far she has accomplished the most of any of us."

"The night isn't over yet," Ruby pointed out. To Ozpin, she asked, "So what happens now?"

"Any students who wish are free to bolster the defences at the Green Line," Ozpin informed them. "Airships will be dropping the Atlas and Haven students off by the Atlesian and Mistralian headquarters, respectively; I'm afraid that Beacon students will also be deposited by the Mistralians and have to walk to the Valish lines; even with the situation with the Siren seemingly resolved, I fear the airship pilots may be a little skittish about getting too close."

"And what about Amber, Professor?" Pyrrha asked. "If Cinder was right, and it seems that she guessed correctly, then won't she come back for the Relic of Choice?"

"She doesn't have it?" asked Ruby.

"Benni didn't say anything about Amber having a crown with her," Jaune said. "Amber, or any of the others."

The others. "So Cinder was telling the truth about Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow," Ruby said. "And Dove and Lyra too? So was Dove only pretending to be in love with Amber, was he working for Salem all along, did he tell Cinder where to find her in the first place?"

"Cinder didn't name him," Pyrrha said. "Or Lyra, for that matter. And I should not want to believe that Dove was so capable of so monstrous a deception. Whatever Amber has done, she loves him very much, and she does not deserve to have her heart used so ill."

"She didn't," Jaune added. "I … I'd bet a lot on it. Dove … I don't know, maybe he fooled me, but why would he even try to? When we talked, we … it felt like we really got each other, you know? I mean, I'm not gonna pretend that we spent a lot of time together, but when we did, it felt like I could see him, the real him, no tricks. Like I said, maybe he fooled me, but I don't think so. I think he really loves her. He loves her so much he's willing to do anything for her, to keep her safe; even this."

"You might be right," Ruby said softly. If you are, it shows the problems that can come from loving too much. "I hope you're right too."

She had liked Dove more than she had liked Amber; he had always been nice to her; there were times when he'd been a lot nicer to her than any of her teammates. He had given her his copy of The Song of Olivia; he had told her that he admired her a great deal. It was one thing to be fooled by Amber, to miss out on Amber's betrayal, but to be fooled by Dove too? That would have been a blow, and so Ruby would be glad to assume that it did not land, to think as Jaune did that it was only devotion to Amber that made Dove act the way he had.

Mind you, when he was telling me all those nice things today, he was planning to do this. Amber didn't only decide to give the Relic away to Salem on the spur of the moment.

Still, it would be nice to think that he'd been genuine before that.

"So Amber left the school without the Relic?" Ruby said, changing the subject back to one that was more important. "Why would she do that?"

"So that she couldn't get sent away," Penny said. "If she'd stayed, waiting for her moment, then Professor Ozpin would have told her to get on an airship, and you with her, and had you flown somewhere safe. That's why she had to use her semblance on you, so she could slip away."

"That makes sense," Ruby agreed. "Except why not try and take the Relic once she'd knocked me out?"

"Too many people around?" suggested Penny.

"Are we sure that she didn't take it?" asked Ruby.

"The Relic has not yet been moved from the Vault," Ozpin declared. "I would know if it had been."

He didn't explain how he would know, but Ruby guessed that they would have to take his word for it. She was reminded of the way that the headmaster had shown up in the Vault when Amber had shown them where it was; maybe he had some sort of connection to the place that would alert him whenever there were trespassers? Maybe he had cameras placed that way and hadn't seen Amber on the footage.

He probably had some way of knowing; there was no reason for him to pretend he did when he didn't.

"So she'll come back," Pyrrha said. "Amber will come back and try to retrieve the Relic."

"Very likely," Ozpin conceded. "Which is why I shall remain here and guard the school from the return of the grimm … and from Amber and her allies, if necessary."

"Are you…?" Ruby licked her lips.

This was the choice that she had pondered in the elevator on the way down, the choice between where the fighting was thickest and where the most people were in danger. It wasn't the choice that she had expected to be confronted with — she'd thought that she might have to pick between the Green Line and inner-city Vale — but the choice in its broad contours was before her nonetheless. Beyond Vale was where the fighting was thickest, but it was also where everyone else would be: Blake, Rainbow Dash, Yang, Weiss, Ren and Nora, team after team after team, and all of General Ironwood's soldiers too. Here at Beacon was less obviously dangerous now, but if Amber got the Relic and took it to Salem, then Remnant would move one step closer to its end.

Put like that, it wasn't exactly the hardest choice. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay up here with you for when she comes?"

"I taught Amber everything she knows, Miss Rose," said Ozpin. "Fall Maiden or not, I think I can handle her." He paused, and his voice, when it returned, became graver. "As much to the point, I think I must. Everything that has … befallen Amber, everything that Amber has become has been the result of my follies, my mistakes. I must be the one to set them right; I cannot shirk the responsibility off onto any other."

"But what about her semblance?" asked Penny. "What about the way that she just put Ruby to sleep? My semblance makes me immune to hers, but what's to stop her from just putting you to sleep and taking the Relic?"

"I have my own protection from Amber's semblance," Ozpin told them, without telling them what it was. "But, if I come to feel that my judgement was too rash, too proud, too self-assured to my own detriment and that of the cause, I will summon you back to retrieve the situation with your courage." He smiled. "But, in the meantime, I think that you should go and board the airships for the Green Line, if you wish to do so; you, especially, Miss Nikos; as the Champion of Mistral — the Champion of Vytal now — and all the other charming epithets your amusingly proud people have placed upon your brow, if you were to be seen to shirk the battle, I fear your absence would be thought very strange and much remarked upon."

Pyrrha's cheeks reddened. "I fear you are correct, Professor. You make me feel very sorry to be famous."

Ozpin chuckled. "Notoriety can be a grievous imposition, Miss Nikos, but you may find yourself appreciative of its benefits in time. There are times when you may find it very useful to be well known and well-beloved."

Pyrrha didn't reply. Instead, it was Ruby who said, "So we're all going down to fight? You don't want anyone to stay up here with you?" She could, she supposed, have decided to stay up here on her own, of her own volition. She didn't have to do as Ozpin said. But while it made some sense to stay here, to protect the Relic, to make sure Salem didn't get anywhere near it, that wasn't going to be very exciting.

If Ozpin thought that he could take Amber and the others by himself, then more power to him; Ruby was sure they could always be more help on the front line.

"If you wish to, Miss Rose," Ozpin said. "I do not force anyone to go anywhere."

Ruby nodded. "In that case, I'll go with Team Iron. That way, they'll have four people, and when Sunset arrives, Team Sapphire will have four people, so it all balances out and makes perfect sense."

There was an awkward pause, a moment of silence where no one spoke, and the air seemed to become brittle between them.

"Oh," Penny said. "Are you … are you sure?"

"Yes," Ruby said. "I think that this is for the best."

She didn't mind the fact that everyone wanted Sunset back, she didn't mind the fact that Sunset might actually come back — even for good — but that didn't mean that Ruby wanted to fight alongside her.

It didn't mean that she wanted to fight alongside any of them; not Sunset, nor Pyrrha … Jaune and Penny, maybe if things had been different … but things weren't different. Things were the way they were, and it was too late to change them now. Too much had happened, been said and done, too much … had been realised, by Ruby at least. She could forgive, after a fashion, she could show mercy — more mercy than she had shown last night, for sure — but she couldn't forget, couldn't pretend that none of this had happened, couldn't go back. She had to move forward.

Penny opened her mouth, then closed it, before she said in a very quiet voice, "Okay then."

"You don't have to do this," Pyrrha murmured.

"No," Ruby agreed. "But I want to."

Pyrrha looked into Ruby's silver eyes for a moment before she held out her hand. "Then good luck, and good fortune attend you."

Ruby hesitated for half a moment before she took Pyrrha's hand, squeezing it as firmly as she could, Pyrrha doing likewise. "Same to you," Ruby replied. "Now, you left Crescent Rose in the dorm room, right?"

Pyrrha released Ruby's hand. "I … don't actually think I remember seeing it."

"Now that you mention it, me neither," Jaune agreed. "At the time, I think we were all too shocked by the fact that you were unconscious like that to think about it, but I can't place it. Penny, did you see it?"

Penny shook her head. "There's nothing about it in my memory banks," she said. "Maybe … maybe the ursa ate it?"

"The ursa," Ruby repeated. Yes, right, Penny had mentioned an ursa, hadn’t she? An ursa that had been … eating Ruby, now that was a thought. Ruby was actually kind of glad she’d been asleep for that.

Although, of course, if I’d been awake, I wouldn’t have been eaten in the first place.

And I certainly wouldn’t have let Crescent Rose get eaten.

Crescent Rose getting eaten, that was … that was not a thought she wished to entertain just yet, not unless she had no other choice.

“Do you think that’s likely?”

“Well, it did eat a lot of stuff, seems like,” Jaune replied. “The dorm room … it's kind of a mess. Some of your stuff is … ruined."

That doesn’t sound good. "Including Crescent Rose?" Ruby asked weakly.

"We don't know," Jaune replied. "Just … it would explain why we didn't see it."

"I…" Ruby trailed off. No, her weapon hadn't ended up in an ursa's stomach, they just hadn't looked hard enough; she would find it, she wouldn't stop until she did, because it was there to be found, she knew it. "I'll go and take a look myself," she declared. "Then I'll find Yang and the others. Take care of each other out there."

She didn't say anything else, nor wait for anything else to be said to her. What was the point in a drawn-out goodbye? Well, maybe it seemed hard on Penny to just go, and perhaps to Jaune too — Pyrrha seemed to comprehend the situation perfectly — but she would … she'd make it up to her. There would be time for a longer goodbye later, and for apologies.

For now, she ran, she ran away from them, burning her aura as she used her semblance, trailing rose petals in her wake as she sprinted away from the tower and towards the dorm rooms.

Along the way, she passed evidence of grimm presence — footprints on the ground, claw marks on stone — but no actual grimm; it was just as they’d said: Professor Ozpin had killed them all. She hoped he didn’t regret that he’d shot his shot too early.

For herself, Ruby kept on running.

The statue was destroyed, she could see that once she reached the main courtyard in the centre of the school; the plinth was still there, the winding rock the climbed upwards, but the huntsman and the huntress who had once stood there, the symbols of hope and courage and everything that a huntsman should be were gone. Wrecked. Smashed to smithereens and dusty fragments.

Ruby … Ruby could not help but stop and stare for a moment at the empty rock, at the statue where only the grimm remained. The heroic defenders of humanity were no more, and only the snarling beast endured, with teeth bared and claws out.

It felt … it felt almost as though it meant something.

It didn’t. Ruby didn’t believe that it did, they’d won the battle here, Professor Ozpin had killed all the grimm — but they had lost the statue.

It could be replaced, and Ruby was sure that it would be, when the battle was over, once Vale was safe, once the morning came, then it could all be replaced. Everything destroyed could be built anew.

But they could never forget that it had been destroyed in the first place.

Ruby headed inside the dorm room; the building didn’t look to be in as bad a state as the statue, but only because there was at least some of the dorms still standing. It was still a bit of a mess, with windows broken and holes in the walls, but it would be easier to repair.

But again, they’d remember that it had been broken in the first place.

The door was unlocked. Ruby bounded up the stairs, wondering just how bad it would be once she reached their dorm room. They’d told her that it was a mess, so bad of a mess that they couldn’t find Crescent Rose, but how bad was that really? What was she going to find when she got up there?

As Ruby climbed the stairs, she passed evidence of the grimm presence on the floors below: claw marks dug into the walls, doors broken down, belongings and objects strewn into the corridors; blood on the carpets. The signs were not encouraging.

They didn't get any more so when she arrived on the floor where her— where Team SAPR's dorm room was. There was the same evidence that the grimm had been here, and Team SAPR's own door had been ripped off its hinges and trampled down.

Team YRBN's door was open too, although she couldn't see the door itself. The corridor was littered with sugary drinks and snacks, bottles and cans torn open to leave dark stains, bags ripped and popcorn and candy spilling out everywhere. As Ruby walked down the corridor, with trepidation slowing her steps a little bit, Nora stuck her head out of the doorway.

"Hey, Ruby!" she cried, waving one hand.

"Nora! Hey!" Ruby cried back, a little startled by the sight.

"Ruby?" Yang said, pushing Nora gently but firmly out of the way as she stepped out of the room and into the corridor. "Ruby!" she repeated, rushing the short distance down the corridor towards her. She pulled her into a hug, but only briefly, her arms lingering around Ruby's shoulders for seconds, pressing Ruby's head against Yang's chest only for moments before she released her once again — although she kept both hands on Ruby's shoulders for the time being. "It's great to see you, but I gotta say, it's unexpected too. I kinda thought you'd have booked it out with Amber on the first airship once the fighting started."

"We would have seen her at the docking pads if she had, right?" Nora asked. "Besides, Ruby isn't the kind of person to walk away from a fight." She leaned around Yang and winked at Ruby. "Although I did think you might have rushed off to Vale to help out there."

"No," Ruby murmured. "No, I, um…" I was asleep, and I missed everything.

I was put to sleep, and I missed the battle.

I let down my guard, and someone got the drop on me, so I missed the whole battle.

I was asleep while you were all fighting to protect people.

While you were all doing your part and Sunset was defeating the monster, I was sleeping.

The fact that Ruby knew in her head that it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't be blamed for what Amber had done to her, didn't stop her from feeling ashamed of it, ashamed of what she hadn't done, ashamed of her absence, of her uselessness.

So ashamed that she didn't want to tell them about it — not to mention the fact that she'd have to tell them about Amber doing it to her, which would lead to all kinds of questions — but at the same time, it felt wrong to pretend that she'd actually fought in the battle, that she'd joined her teammates, that she'd protected anyone, that she'd done … anything. It would be stolen valour to which she had no claim.

That didn't make it easy to tell the truth.

Thankfully, Yang came to her rescue with a barrage of questions. "So where is Amber, then? Did you find Jaune and Pyrrha? Where are they? What are you doing up here?"

"Amber's … gone," Ruby replied. "And yeah, I found Jaune and Pyrrha and Penny too; I just left them to come here to … what are you guys doing here?"

"We're just seeing what the damage is; Rainbow Dash said we had a couple of minutes before the airships arrive," Nora replied. "Is that … is that why you're here?"

"Sort of, I…" Ruby hesitated for a second. "I … when I got Amber away, I left Crescent Rose behind in my room, and so I've come back to get it."

Yang stared down at her. Her violet eyes narrowed, and Ruby could hardly blame her; as excuses went, it was absolutely pathetic.

In my defence, I didn't have a lot of time to come up with a story.

"So … the battle started, and you grabbed Amber and left—"

"Yep."

"Without your weapon?" Yang finished.

Ruby swallowed. "Uh huh."

Nora winced. "That wasn't very smart of you, Ruby."

"Nora!" Ren's rebuking voice emerged out of the Team YRBN dorm.

"Hey, if no one tells her, how's she going to learn?" Nora responded.

Yang ignored Nora, but kept on staring down at Ruby.

"You really just … forgot?" she demanded. "You just up and left and forgot to grab Crescent Rose?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Why else would I be coming up here to get it?"

Yang let out a soft snort. "I'm sure you were eager to get Amber somewhere safe, but you need to be more thoughtful. What if you'd run into a grimm on the way?"

"Then I would have been in trouble, I guess," Ruby muttered, looking down at the floor rather than up at her sister. It wasn't fun being scolded for something that you hadn't done, but at the same time, Ruby couldn't really argue about it, because if she had done the thing that she had just admitted doing to Yang, then she would have deserved this scolding a lot more than she'd ever deserved the way that Sunset and Pyrrha had talked down to her.

Yang's hands fell away from Ruby's shoulders.

"Okay," she muttered. "But it might have been better if you didn't have to come back; it … it isn't great in there."

So I've been told, Ruby thought, but didn't say it because that might have led to more questions. Instead, she walked around Yang — who stepped aside and backwards against the wall to let her pass — and towards Nora, who also retreated a couple of steps into the doorway of her own room.

Ruby couldn't see Ren in there, but she found that she could imagine him tidying up anything that was out of place, moving with a quiet efficiency to restore order to the chaos.

She stepped on something; she felt and heard glass crack beneath her. Ruby looked down. It was the picture of the four of them from Benni Havens', way back at the start of the year.

God, that was such a long time ago, wasn't it?

Look how happy we all look.

Look how happy I look.

Ruby's gaze lingered upon herself, smiling, making peace signs with both hands while Sunset rested her chin on the top of Ruby's head. The enthusiastic beam on Ruby's face, it seemed to belong to a different person. A younger person, a child. From before she grew up and realised what the people she was smiling with really were. How pathetic Sunset was, and unworthy of her admiration.

Sunset had destroyed this picture and what it meant long before the grimm reached the door.

But at least she could look down at it and feel sad instead of angry, feel pity instead of hatred. That was … something, right?

Ruby stepped past and over the picture in its broken frame, over the smashed and shattered door and into the doorway of the Team SAPR dorm room, where…

Where it would take a lot more than quiet efficiency to restore order out of the chaos and confusion that confronted her.

It was a mess. Objects had been tossed aside, mementos of their missions and battles chewed up and trampled, the bedclothes too, and the mattresses torn to shreds and scattered feathers. Books had been destroyed, their pages littering the floor.

Pages that Ruby recognised. She knelt down, pale fingers reaching out to grasp one old, faded, yellowing page, ragged now and torn down one edge, where it lay on the floor by her feet.

And Olivia rushed forward, ignoring the jeers and the mockery of the gathered knights and lords to lay her sword and shield at the feet of the King.

"Good Lord!" she cried. "I beg of you a boon, as dear to my heart as any that has ever been asked of you before."

"Peace ho, friends, let the maid be heard," declared the King. "What, child, what gift would you have of us?"

"To serve your grace, in arms and offices," Olivia answered him. "I have, I do confess, neither horse nor saddle nor gilded spurs. I have not a shirt of mail or a coat of scale, still less a glimmering carapace. But I have sword and shield to lay here at thy feet, and I have a valiant heart which shall never falter. Give me leave to prove myself to thee, and on my life, I swear that you shall not regret it."

The old wizard Osferth bent low and whispered in the King's ear.

The page fell from Ruby's trembling fingers. The Song of Olivia, her book, Dove's book, the book that he had given to her, the old book, the rare book, the seldom-found and out-of-print book was … ruined. Torn to shreds. That was one of the pages that was in good condition; others looked to be much worse, with holes in them or torn in half or worse, with bits of paper mingling with the feathers. It would take an archivist to put her lovely book, Dove's book, the book that bound them, to put it back together again would be the work of months, perhaps years, if it could be done. If there weren't pages that were resting in a grimm's belly.

There was other damage to the room, most notably the hole in the closet wall that was mirrored by other holes in all the rooms to the right of theirs, but none of that meant so much to Ruby in this moment as the destruction of her book.

It was hers, or had been hers, however you were supposed to say it. Her book, her treasure, a gift given to her. Her book destroyed, her dreams shattered, always her.

And Dove … he had been a good man, if Pyrrha and Jaune were right that it was only the love of Amber that had driven him to throw his lot in with her. He had been a good man, a good friend, a good huntsman, and that book had been a reminder of that, something to carry with her in memory of who he had been before Amber had come back — something that it might have been better hadn't happened.

But that was gone too.

Ruby sniffed, and a tear fell from one silver eye to roll gently down her face.

Ruby felt a hand upon her shoulder. Nora's hand, as Nora knelt beside her, managing to be taller than Ruby in the kneeling where she wouldn't have managed it standing up.

"It's sad, I know," Nora murmured. "Believe me, I know. Places, homes, they don't turn out to be as safe as you thought they would, as you wish they would. You see the light ahead, shining in the darkness, and you think that you've found somewhere warm and welcoming, somewhere you can rest, somewhere the darkness can't get to you. But the darkness follows, and the refuge … it doesn't last." She smiled, with her mouth closed, and with her free hand, she wiped the tear from Ruby's cheek. "But so long as you're alive, so long as you can keep moving, and so long as you're with people who care about you, then you can always start again somewhere new." She squeezed Ruby's shoulder vigorously. "So long as you're still here, and so are they, you can do anything. Everything else … it's sad, but it's nothing that can't be replaced."

Nora wasn't wrong about that — some of this stuff really was irreplaceable — but Ruby understood that she was trying, and that she made a pretty good point, even though it wasn't completely correct, and so she smiled back at her. "Thanks, Nora. How's your room?"

"Not as bad as yours," Nora admitted. "It looks like something came in through the bathroom, so that's a mess. Yang's conditioner is all over the floor, and whatever it was ate Ren's face cream, but apart from that, I think we got off … we'll be okay."

Ruby nodded. "I'm glad," she said. She stood up, half-turning so that she was facing Nora but could look at Yang at the same time. "Hey, listen, you guys are going out to fight, right? At the Green Line?"

"Sure are," Yang replied. "We were just about to head out now."

"Can I come with you?" Ruby asked. "Not down to the airships, to the line, to fight with you, make up the fourth person on your team, since I guess Blake's with the Atlesians."

"But what about your team?" Nora asked. "With Sunset away on her mission, that leaves just—"

"Penny's with them too," Ruby pointed out.

"I know, Rainbow loaned her out to them since it was just Jaune and Pyrrha otherwise, and she had Blake," Nora said. "But now that you're here too—"

"They've still got Penny," Ruby said.

"Okay," said Yang, "but that's still just three people."

"One of which is Pyrrha, and another one is Penny," Ruby declared. "They'll be fine."

"And so will we, without Blake," Nora said. "It's not like we haven't got plenty of practice managing without her."

"Nora—" Yang began.

"I'm not saying it to criticise," Nora insisted. "She's on her path, and good for her. She knows where she wants to go, where she wants to make her new home, and I honestly wish her all the best with that. I hope she's happy up in the north freezing her fingers and toes off. But I'm just saying, it's not so new to us that we can't handle ourselves. Yeah, there's only three of us, but one of them is me and another one is Yang." She grinned. "We'll be fine."

"I know you will, I'm sure you will, I'm not saying that you won't, but…" Ruby trailed off for a second. "Please, I…"

I don't want to fight alongside my teammates anymore.

Yang's brow furrowed as she took a step towards Ruby. "Is everything okay?"

"I … I'd just like to go into battle with you," Ruby said. "Even if it is only this once."

Yang stared down at Ruby for a second. She glanced at Nora, who nodded.

A smile spread across Yang's face, reaching her eyes, lighting them up even brighter than usual. "Now, how can I say no to a request like that from my little sister?"

Nora slapped Ruby on the back. "Welcome to Team Iron, Ruby. Team … Y-R-R-N Iron?"

"Team Yarn," Ren suggested, unseen, his voice floating out of the YRBN dorm room.

"That's a terrible name," Nora replied. Her voice dropped. "We'll spell Iron with two Rs; it's fine."

Yang clasped Ruby on the shoulder. "This is gonna be awesome," she said. "But remember to bring your weapon this time."

I really wish I could have come up with a different excuse. "Yes, Yang," Ruby muttered as she turned away and walked into the room.

It was a mess, which made it hard to see things, but it wasn't immediately obvious where Crescent Rose was. Ruby could see why Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny hadn't noticed it; it wasn't as though it was sitting right there and they just hadn't bothered to look.

Ruby walked forwards into the room — she couldn't avoid stepping on scattered pages, as much as she tried not to — before getting down and looking under the beds; hopefully, it would have — yes! There it was! Under Jaune's bed, it must have been kicked there by the grimm while it was rampaging around. Crescent Rose sat in shadow, but it seemed to almost glow regardless. The room around it was in ruins, but it was pristine, untouched, untarnished. As Ruby stretched out her small hand to grab hold of it, as her fingertips touched the crimson metal, she felt a bolt of lightning jolt up her arm.

As she pulled out the weapon from under the bed, as she stood up with Crescent Rose in her hand, Ruby felt … better, stronger, lighter.

She felt ready.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

Thin White Line (New)

Thin White Line

The Skyrays soared through the night air, the lights on their wings illuminating the darkness as they raced over the open ground beyond Vale towards the Green Line.

Rainbow crouched in the open doorway of the airship, looking downwards. Night had fallen, but there was enough moonlight to make out some of the land that they were passing over; it was hard to make out details, but then, Rainbow wasn't sure that there was a lot of detail to make out. Most of the space between the Green Line and the Red — not all, there was that bit of the city that had spread out on the wrong side of the wall, but most — was either farmland or just wild and untamed. There weren't any villages out here — there weren't even any farmhouses — for all that the Green Line was meant to be the point behind which it was safe, people lived behind the Red Line where they could, behind the walls, and went out beyond them to do their work before retreating back behind the walls again at night. That wasn't the same everywhere — there were bits of city beyond the walls, gradually expanding outside due to the pressure, and Rainbow was sure that if she searched the whole area, she could find some farmers like the Apples living out in the open beside their land, but right now, all that Rainbow could see directly underneath them was fields, with only barns or…

Okay, no, no, she could see someone's living space, even if she wouldn't call it a home; they'd just flown over a shepherd's hut on wheels parked in a field next to a flock of sheep. Trixie had lived in one of those during her time at Canterlot; she'd preferred it to boarding at the school, although that one had been a lot more colourful than the beige-looking hut they'd just flown over. Rainbow thought it must belong to an actual shepherd because of, well, the sheep, but she hoped that whoever owned it had gotten themselves behind the walls of Vale, because if the grimm broke through, then he'd be in a lot more trouble than the sheep would.

Not that the grimm were going to break through without a fight, but you never knew how a battle might turn out.

For the rest, at least this part of the area, the part that they were flying over, it all looked pretty deserted. There were fields, but they'd all been harvested by now; there were some livestock — sheep or cattle or goats — grazing in grassy fields, even some horses — at least one of which looked to have got out of its field — but no people, and the fields were only grass. There were some enclosed woods that Rainbow could see as she looked around, and some country lanes with walls and fences and such, but not a lot. It was very empty land. Empty and barren, now that fall was here and all the crops had been gathered in already.

Not bad land to fight on, if they had to fight their way back across it. Not a whole lot of cover as far as Rainbow Dash could tell, but the grimm didn't shoot for the most part, so the lack of cover wasn't such a big deal. And as much to the point, there wasn't any cover for the grimm either, except maybe in those enclosed woods. Only the darkness would prevent the Atlesians from seeing the grimm coming, and what they could see, they could shoot down before the grimm could sink their teeth into them.

Unlike during their descent on Beacon, the Skyrays weren't being covered by fighters; there were no grimm in this part of the sky, so the fighters had already raced ahead to get ready to confront the grimm over the Green Line, while the slower Skyrays lagged behind. If Rainbow looked up instead of looking down, then she could see the fighters ahead, darting in and out amongst the much larger cruisers as they formed an airborne line in counterpoint to the line of ground troops down below. Once the bombers — even slower than the Skyrays — arrived too, then they would be able to rain fire down upon the grimm from the air, inflicting huge casualties upon the horde before it got close to returning the favour against the Atlesians.

Of course, the same didn't exactly apply to the parts of the Green Line that weren't being held by the Atlesians. What the Valish would do next was anyone's guess, and as for the Mistralians, they only had that one ship, and while that one ship had a lot of guns, it was still just one ship, and a pretty old ship at that. They wouldn't be able to put out the same volume of fire — and that was without getting into their artillery, if they had any — and so they would be a lot more vulnerable to a charge from the grimm. The Atlesians could easily find themselves outflanked.

We'll just have to hope that the Beacon students can make all the difference, I guess.

There were fewer Skyrays as part of their group, flying over the Green Line towards the Atlesian position, than there had been when they swooped down on Beacon. School choice was the reason for that; at Beacon, they had all fought together, but now, they were getting split up according to what school they went to. Atlas students to the Atlesian line, Beacon students to the Valish line if the Valish were in either mood or state to take them, Haven students to the Mistralian line — plus Pyrrha, she supposed, although nobody had confirmed that. So there were fewer airships accompanying the Skyray that carried Rainbow Dash, but on those airships were, being as modest as need be, some of the best students.

Rainbow wasn't alone on the Skyray. Blake was with her, standing over her, the tails of her tailcoat flapping up and down behind her as the night breeze swept through the airship; Rarity, too, with one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other holding onto a ceiling strap; and Ciel, eyes closed and head bowed, murmuring something so quietly that Rainbow couldn't make it out. Rainbow thought she was praying.

Team TTSS were with them too, with Maud having joined the team in place of Tempest. Rainbow hadn't told them about Tempest just yet; it didn't seem the right moment to break the fact that the comrade they thought had died had actually tricked them and run off to join … an enemy whom Rainbow couldn't even properly name or describe to them. That was the kind of thing that, to Rainbow's mind, would keep until the battle was over. Otherwise, it might distract them at just the wrong moment.

What good would it do them to find out now? What were they going to do with the knowledge?

Rainbow would tell them, just not yet. When they could sit down to hear it.

For now, they should keep their minds on the battle ahead.

"See anything, Rainbow Dash?" asked Trixie, raising her voice to be heard above the Skyray engine.

"A lot of empty space," Rainbow replied. "And a shepherd's hut, like yours."

"Trrrrrixie does not have a shepherd's hut!" Trixie declared. "Trrrrrrixie has a wagon."

Rainbow frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Trixie has bigger wheels," Trixie said.

Rainbow smiled. "Ciel?"

Ciel didn't reply. She kept on murmuring — praying — for a few seconds longer, before she opened her eyes and raised her head. "Yes, Rainbow Dash?"

"What can you tell us about the commander at the front?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper," Ciel said. "Commanding officer of the Fourth Squadron, until a full colonel is appointed. Born in Atlas. Twenty-nine years old—”

“Twenty-nine?” Rainbow spluttered. “Twenty-nine years old? She’s twenty-nine and the lieutenant colonel commanding a squadron?”

“Is that young?” asked Blake.

“Yes!” Rainbow said loudly. “Yes, that is very young.”

“She has had a meteoric rise through the ranks,” Ciel confirmed. “And received seven commendations on the way.”

“Impressive,” Starlight murmured. “She must be quite something.”

“We’ll see that for ourselves when we meet her soon enough,” Blake said. “What about the commander of the other unit, the … First?”

“Yes, the First Squadron is on the line, with the Third in reserve,” Ciel replied. “We are being dropped off at Fourth Battalion headquarters, since their line adjoins onto the Valish and is thus … potentially more at risk, but if the situation changes, we could be asked to redeploy towards the left of the line.”

“So who’s the commanding officer there?”

“Colonel Redvers Buller is the commanding officer of the First Squadron,” Ciel said. “While Lieutenant Colonel Dunnet commands the battalion, the ground element. Forty-eight years old, born in Atlas, possessed of a long record of service, including…” She paused.

“Including what?” asked Sunburst.

“Several years spent in Mistral cooperating in anti-White Fang operations with the Mistralian Imperial Police,” Ciel said.

There was a moment of silence in the airship.

“Well,” Starlight said. “Just because he’s spent some time going up against the White Fang doesn’t mean … it’s not like Blake’s White Fang, after all.”

“No,” Blake said. “No, I’m not. And the fact is that the White Fang does need to be stopped. This Colonel Dunnet has been doing good work, I’m sure.”

Rainbow nodded but didn’t say anything. So long as Colonel Dunnet remembered that Blake wasn’t part of the White Fang anymore — that she never had been, officially — then it would all be fine.

“So, Dash,” Trixie said. “How did it feel to be in charge?” She grinned. “And what’s it going to feel like taking orders from someone else now?”

Rainbow snorted. “It’s going to be fine, Trixie. I took charge back at Beacon because … because someone had to. But if someone else, someone better, wants to step up, then that’s fine too. And a lieutenant colonel at twenty-nine with a row of commendations … I can get behind the idea that that’s someone better.”

They were getting close now, making their final approach to the Atlesian line. Rainbow no longer had to rely on the moonlight, as the Atlesians had set up lights all around their camp and rigged up little footlights on the ground, pointing up into the sky or across the grass so that they could see better. Landing zones were marked with rings of glowing blue and green lights, while still more lights illuminated the spider droids that sat at the rear of the line, guns angled upwards.

The Skyrays began to descend, rotating in the air as they dropped downwards into the pre-marked landing zones.

“This is it!” the pilot called from out of the cockpit. “Good hunting!”

“Copy that,” Rainbow said. “Let’s go!”

She led the way, leaping down from the airship, with the others swiftly following, all jumping down and crushing the grass beneath their feet. The Skyray barely waited for the last of them — Sunburst, his cape billowing out behind him — to get out before it was taking off again, heading back the way it had come in the direction of Vale. They were probably getting held in reserve, for any units that needed transport — or, in an emergency if there were no better airships available, air support.

Rainbow looked around the illuminated rear echelon. There were a few troops around, but not many; most of them must have been deployed to the front line.

An emergency aid station had been set up inside a white tent with the staff and star medical symbol on it; the sides had been rolled up so that Rainbow could see that it was empty at the moment, with doctors and nurses waiting for the casualties that would come later. It was only a triage point, to patch up the badly wounded while they waited for transport up to one of the medical frigates where they had all the serious medical equipment, but that triage might be the difference between life and death for some.

Music filled the night air, courtesy of a cluster of Atlesian Knights with speakers mounted onto their backs, playing appropriately martial music to call the battalion to arms. Maybe the sound might reach out beyond the Atlesian lines, all the way to the grimm horde gathered across the field and let the monsters know that they weren’t afraid.

Probably not — it wasn’t that loud — but it was a nice thought.

Other androids — and some soldiers too, troops without armour, wearing the all-blue jumpsuits of the artillery company — were attending to the spider droids that were spread out all along the rear line. Atlesian fire support didn’t only come from the air; these spider droids were integral in providing a punch from down on the ground. A mobile battalion like the fourth would have forty of them, and a static force like the Mantle garrison would have more than that. They only had four legs, so the name was a bit incorrect, but they were quite spidery legs, like a tarantula without the hair, each one ending in a blunt point down into the ground. The four legs formed an X with the body in the centre, so that, more than a spider, they kind of looked like they could form the basis for a kind of grimm. Their heads resembled old-fashioned helmets and were stuck on the front of the body like a lizard or a bird. The spider droid was a modular weapons system, able to be equipped with a variety of different weapons as the commanding officer or the situation demanded. It looked like Colonel Harper had gone with a pretty even mixture of twin 105 howitzers, one mounted on each side of the head, and boxy missile launchers, again mounted in pairs on either side of the droid’s shoulders. Fresh boxes of missiles and fresh shells lay in piles behind the feet of the spider droids, with androids and humans alike waiting with all their necessary cranes and equipment to reload the droids when they were out.

Rainbow glanced at Blake and saw that she was looking at the spider droids with what looked to Rainbow like apprehension in her golden eyes.

“Brings back memories?” Rainbow guessed.

Blake glanced at her. “You could say that.”

Rainbow clasped her on the shoulder. “Just remember, you’re on the same side now. So stop worrying and learn to appreciate the firepower.”

“Ooh, that’s right, you’ve never been in an all-out battle as part of the Atlesian military, have you, Blakey?” Neon asked, appearing in a rainbow burst with one arm around Blake’s neck, leaning off of her as she smirked.

“No,” Blake murmured. “Have you?”

“…no,” Neon admitted. “But at least I know what to expect.”

“Students!” they were hailed by a burly sergeant major with a sash across his armoured chest and a swagger stick held in one hand. “This way!”

The assembled Atlas students — not just Rainbow and her friends, not just TTSS and FNKI, the whole assembled student body who had come down to fight on the line — followed in his wake. The sergeant major led them down a path marked by two rows of red lights, down a slight descent in the fields, to where a command post had been set up.

It wasn’t much of a sight to see, just a few poles stuck into the ground with some netting strung up between them to give some protection from a grimm just swooping down from above, and underneath, a couple of tables and a holoprojector.

Nearby the makeshift command post stood a couple of knights, each with a pole mounted to their backs from which flew the colours of the Fourth Battalion. One was the Atlesian Colour, the Atlas spear and gear upon its grey background, with the IV emblazoned on it in pure shining white. The other was the Battalion Colour, a black bull with fiery red eyes on a white field, and around the fringes embroidered the battle honours of the unit going back to the Great War and beyond: Mantle Incursion, Ice Field Barrens, Cold Harbour, Northampton, First-Eighth River Isis, Four Sovereigns, Crystal City, Stonecross, Vacuo Campaign. They would be able to sew ‘Vale’ onto the flag come tomorrow morning.

Standing just outside the command post, as if on guard, was a Mistralian orderly, an affectation enjoyed by some senior officers. This particular orderly was dressed in a vivid violet robe and lavender trousers, with a curved scimitar worn at his hip.

At the moment, a cluster of officers stood around the projector, which was displaying a vertical image of the battlefield. A single line of white crossed the ground, with various lines of red in front, and images of the Atlesian spider droids behind. The white line was their deployment then, but what were the red lines?

The students gathered on the fringes of the command post, as yet unnoticed, unsure — Rainbow was unsure, at least — whether they ought to bring themselves to the notice of officers examining the hologram.

“Ma’am,” the sergeant major said. “The students are here.”

A woman half turned to look at them. She was about medium height, not too tall but not short either, but slightly built, with narrow shoulders that only looked a little wider because she was wearing a blue cloak over them that swathed half her body from view, although the arm she was gesturing with had thrown the other half of it aside, revealing a spiked pauldron on her shoulder, an arm that was bare with the sleeve of her uniform cut away, and a vambrace on one arm. Rainbow could also see that she had a sword at her hip, and that was only what she could see beneath her cloak. Her hair was black and half-hidden beneath the high-peaked cap she wore on her head, but not so hidden that Rainbow couldn’t see it peeking out from behind her head, just above her shoulders.

Rainbow straightened up and fancied that she wasn’t the only student to do so.

“Good evening,” she said, in a slightly high-pitched voice. She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was softer, as though she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be overheard. “Good evening, good evening, the colonel said.” She took another pause, blinking her dark eyes, before clearing her throat. “Good evening,” she repeated. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Harper of the Fourth Battalion; this is Lieutenant Colonel Dunnet of the First.”

Colonel Dunnet turned to regard them. He was a middle-aged man with a round face and curly brown sideburns descending down his cheeks towards his mouth; his white jacket had three layers of silver buttons running down it and black lacework crossing his chest between them.

His lip curled into a sneer. “Rather more faunus than I was expecting.”

Rainbow didn’t glance at Blake, although she wanted to. She hoped Blake remembered, as she was remembering right now, something that she had said to Blake way back on their first mission together, to Cold Harbour, at the start of the semester: some Atlesian officers might not mind their manners, which made it all the more important to mind yours.

Hopefully, she hadn’t forgotten.

It was a good thing Rainbow hadn’t forgotten either.

Blake didn’t say anything. No one did, except for Colonel Harper, who said, “Haven’t you been watching the tournament, Warren? If you had, few of these students would be strangers to you.” A slight smile crossed lips painted a darker brown than her skin. “And if I’m identifying them right, some of these students here have distinguished themselves.”

“Not here, they haven’t,” declared Colonel Dunnet. He turned away. “But you may as well brief them, since they’re here.”

“Thank you,” Colonel Harper said quietly. She picked up a stick from off the table, raised her voice so that it carried to the assembled students. “Here,” she said, using her stick to gesture to the main white line on the map, “is the Green Line, where we are. The Valish didn’t leave us the best defensive position in Remnant, but we’ve had several months to improve it, so now that the grimm have finally shown up, I can say with some confidence that we’re ready for them. We haven’t been able to finish all the wall that the Valish stopped building, but we have filled in the gaps with earthworks and raised elevation all along the line; we’ll be firing down at the grimm every step of the way. In front of the rampart, we’ve strung barbed wire and set up anti-ursa barriers and caltrops to break up the grimm assault in its final moments; their charge won’t hit as a single solid mass, but in disorder and disarray. In front of that, we’ve dug two parallel ditches and mined the space between the ditches and in front of the outer ditch. Even if not a single soldier fired on the grimm as they came in, they still wouldn’t reach our line intact or in what passes for formation amongst them.” The smile returned to her face. “However, we are of course going to be firing at them.”

A chuckle rippled through the Atlas students.

“As you will have seen on the way down here, we have our spiders deployed to provide fire support from behind the line, joined by our cruisers and bombers. Mortar platoons are closer to the line, while on the line, we have our redoubtable infantry.”

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” Ciel asked.

“Granted … Soleil, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ciel replied. “What about the new Paladins?”

“Our ramparts provide a height advantage, but they aren’t huge,” Colonel Harper explained. “Our Paladins, and the remaining spiders, can still fire over the top of them, just about.” She paused and pointed with her stick at the right flank, where the white line turned inwards. “Here is where our position meets the Valish. We haven’t had any difficulties with them, they didn’t attack when their commanding officer went off the rails, but this join is still the weak link; even if all of the events of tonight hadn’t happened, I don’t think they’d be up to the level of an Atlesian battalion. That’s why I’ve deployed the Military Huntsman company there, with the Light Company on the left flank joining to First Battalion and the remaining companies in between. I want you students to concentrate on the right flank, spreading yourselves out to the left but adding most of your firepower there, where we’re most vulnerable. I know you’re young, but I’ve seen enough to know you already pack one hell of a punch. Is that understood?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” the students chorused.

Colonel Dunnet sniffed.

"Alright then," Colonel Harper said. "I know that you're not a part of this unit, but I sincerely hope that this is only the first time that we get to fight alongside one another for the glory of Atlas. Sergeant Major Waters will show you the way. Go to it!"

There was no cheer. The lieutenant colonel's words had been too low key for that, although Rainbow thought that she must be saving her speech for when the whole battalion could hear it, not just the students. Nevertheless, she'd set out what they were doing, where they were going, and what had been done to prepare the position with clarity, and Rainbow felt quite content as she and the other Atlas students — and Blake — followed the sergeant major down away from the command post, leaving Colonel Harper and the other officers behind, still finalising their discussions, making their final preparations.

“Colonel Harper feels the weight of her command,” Blake murmured to Rainbow Dash as the two walked briskly down a track marked by more red lights laid out along the ground. “It’s pressing on her shoulders.”

Rainbow glanced at her. “How do you mean?”

“'Good evening, good evening, the colonel said,'” Blake said softly. “Her words.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow acknowledged. “Yeah, I thought that was a little odd. Does it mean something to you?”

“It’s a poem, from around the Great War,” Blake told her. “'Good morning, good morning, the General said, when we met him last week on our way to the line. Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of them dead, and we’re cursing his staff for incompetent swine.' She’s … aware of her responsibility.”

“Good,” Rainbow said. “She should be aware, because it is her responsibility.” She paused. “But we’re not going to be cursing her tomorrow, I’m sure.”

"No,” Blake agreed. “No, I'm sure not. Personally, I have to admit I’m glad we're reporting to Colonel Harper instead of Colonel Dunnet.”

"Me too," Rainbow muttered. "Even if it won't be the last time that we have to deal with someone like that. Which it won't," she added, glancing at Blake to see how she took that.

Blake's face twitched a little, but her voice was calm as she said, "No, I suppose it won't be." She paused for a second, before she said, "So, what's a Military Huntsman company, and what makes it so special? I thought huntsmen in the military were called Specialists?"

"Oh, yeah, you don't know, do you?" Rainbow asked. "Okay, Atlesian Military One-Oh-One coming up: an infantry battalion is divided into six companies: A military huntsman company, a light company, three rifle companies, and an artillery company. Plus battalion headquarters, but that's its own thing, and we'll ignore the cruisers and the airships for now, that's all … we'll get into that some other time. The point is that you've already seen the artillery company; it's all those spider droids set up on the back line. We didn't see them, but there'll be officers around there somewhere directing the fire, checking the range, feeding coordinates to the droids, that sort of thing."

They passed some mortar crews, also spread out in a line, a mixture of large one hundred and twenty millimetre and smaller sixty millimetre mortars with crews of Knights working under the direction of human NCOs, loading the mortars ready to fire.

"Are they part of the artillery company too?" asked Blake.

"No," Rainbow said. "Mortar platoons are assigned to infantry companies, which we're getting to now. The light company is an old thing, goes back to before the Great War; it's all the best shots in the battalion, the smartest men, the quickest men. That's the theory, anyway. Guys who could be trusted to act on their own initiative and not because a sergeant was yelling in their ear. They're the ones with the yellow stripes on their armour, but other than that, they're pretty much the same as the rifle companies, who have the blue stripes on their armour. Each company has a company aitch-queue, a mortar platoon, about three rifle platoons of … thirty to fifty soldiers each, that's about right, isn't it, Ciel?"

Ciel looked at her. "As far as summarising our military apparatus in double quick time goes, you are not doing too badly," she granted. "Each company also includes an assault platoon, men chosen to take the lead in storming enemy defensive positions, who thus have a greater than usual supply of special weapons."

"'Special weapons'?" asked Blake.

"Light machine guns, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, armour piercing rifles," Ciel said. "Flamethrowers."

"Flamethrowers?" Blake repeated. "You use flamethrowers?"

"Only in assault platoons," Ciel said.

"I … have never heard of this," Blake said. "In all my time in … you know. I never heard of Atlesian troops being equipped like that." She frowned a little. "Is there a lot of call for a unit like that?"

"No," Ciel admitted. "It goes back to the Great War and the stalemate on the northern front. But nobody wants to abandon the concept in case it should become necessary again."

"Mmm," Blake murmured. "And what about the military huntsmen, where do they differ?"

"Military Huntsmen are people who went through combat school but didn't go onto Atlas Academy," Rainbow replied. "Who … couldn't," she said quietly, in case someone with very sharp ears was listening and took offence to anything harsher than that. "Like Rarity, if she'd decided to put a uniform on."

"I'm not sure armour grey is really my colour, darling," Rarity observed.

Rainbow grinned. "They don't actually wear armour, as you'll see in just a bit; they wear the white uniforms and the peaked caps. The point is that, even though they haven't had the chance to become Specialists, they still want to serve Atlas, and they have skills and training that other soldiers don't, so they get all assigned together in a special part of the unit."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to spread them out?" Blake asked. "Distribute them amongst the other companies where they can be more effective?"

"That is a view, to be sure," Ciel allowed. "But presently, doctrine feels that they make more of a difference in a concentrated mass, able to intervene at the decisive point, than spread out in small packages that dilute their effectiveness. As now: they could not be tasked to hold the lynchpin of the line if they were not brigaded together."

Speaking of the line, they had almost reached it: the mixture of Valish wall and Atlesian-built earth rampart rose up sharply in front of them, a wall of intermingled earth and brick in interlocking sections traversing the landscape, cutting sharply across the Valish fields. The light of the broken moon shone on the Atlesian soldiers — most of them stationary, a few still moving into position — standing on the wall or on the earthworks; the light glinted off the armour of the infantry or illuminated the white overcoats of the military huntsmen. Soldiers knelt with their rifles to their shoulders, they crouched down behind light machine guns on their stands, they crouched on the ground with light support weapons — which were like light machine guns, except they were even lighter so you could, in theory, pick one up and fire it from the hip if you really wanted to — or they loaded rocket launchers and rested them on their shoulders. Knights stood on the wall too, two knights for every human soldier, although the Knights had only rifles, none of the other weapons available to the Atlesian infantry. The way the moonlight fell on them, they kind of looked like ghosts, an army of ghosts surrounding the army of the living, phantoms risen up to fight again.

If only. It would be great to have you here, Kogetsu.

Paladins — and some more spider droids, mounting four heavy laser cannons on their shoulders and arms for direct fire — stood just behind the earth rampart. The walls the Valish had built were just a little too high for them to see over, or at least to fire over, but the earthworks only came up to about their chests, with the blocky white heads of the Paladins able to clear the ramparts with ease, not to mention stick their arms over the top without getting in the way of the infantry in front. The Paladins were grouped in fours, four machines standing in relatively close proximity and then a gap before four more, while the spider droids were deployed individually, spaced out along the line.

"Are they their own company as well?" asked Blake.

Rainbow hesitated. "I … don't actually know," she admitted; because they were so new, she wasn't sure where exactly they fitted into the org chart.

"I do not believe so," Ciel murmured. "I could be mistaken, but I believe they are assigned at the company level."

"Here we are," the Sergeant Major said. "This is you lot. Up you get, face front, but keep an eye on what's happening to your right. And good hunting, and God be with you."

"And with you, Sergeant Major," Ciel murmured.

They had been led to the corner of the line, where the earthworks ended, but a trench had been hastily dug perpendicular to it, cutting through the earth and heading back towards the students. Looking over the trench and pulling her goggles down over her eyes so that she could see better in the dark, Rainbow could see the Valish troops across the field, lying or crouching down on the grass, a few of them moving furtively here and there, keeping watch on the Atlesians. She could make out the outline of one of their cumbersome tanks a little bit behind, although it wasn't pointing any of its guns at them.

The Atlesian trench was occupied by a thin line of military huntsmen, men and women in white double-breasted overcoats and white peaked caps with blue bands wrapped around them, soldiers with rifles in their hands but a variety of more unique and individualised weapons slung across their backs or at their hips: the weapons with which they might have hoped once to become huntsmen and Specialists.

None of them looked at the students, and Rainbow wondered if they might feel a little bit jealous.

Maybe, but she was sure they'd be able to keep it professional.

Anyway, nobody moved to join the military huntsmen in the trench; instead, they swarmed up the plentiful plethora of ladders that had been put on the inner side of the ramparts, climbing onto the earthworks or the wall and spreading out amongst the military huntsmen there, starting from the end of the works and moving leftwards until they were in amongst the rifle company adjoining the military huntsmen.

Rainbow and Blake found themselves more or less in the centre of the line, with Rarity and Ciel; Team TTSS was on their right, and Team FNKI on their left as they stood upon the earthwork, Atlesian troops and Knights around them, Paladins and spider droids looming behind them, standing on the rampart looking out.

Before them lay the Atlesian defensive preparations just as Colonel Harper had described them: directly in front of the earthworks and the wall, a mixture of barbed wire strung across the ground; metallic anti-ursa obstacles, those metal Xs standing upright and joined together; barely visible caltrops with the points sticking upwards at various angles. If the grimm reached them, then they would be slowed by all those obstacles, and some would bypass them more swiftly than others, disrupting the impact of an otherwise solid wall of grimm slamming headfirst into the Atlesian line. Then there was a ditch beyond that, a ditch that Rainbow couldn't see the bottom of because of the angle at which it had been dug. She couldn't see the minefield that Colonel Harper had described, but then, you weren't supposed to see the mines before you stepped on them, so that made perfect sense. Then there was another ditch, of which Rainbow could see even less, and then Colonel Harper had declared that there were more mines.

And then, beyond the mines, a great expanse of open ground; maybe it was farmed ordinarily, but the harvest had been gathered in; maybe it was too far from Vale to get to safely and back again before nightfall, and so it was just left fallow and bare and unwanted. Either way, it was barren now, just ground, flat ground without cover or obstacle, just a field that you could race across as fast as you could with nothing getting in your way.

And on the other side of that field waited the grimm.

They were massed. They absolutely well and truly deserved to be described as a horde. The grimm spread out across the landscape, swallowing it up in a black mass, and even the whites of their bony faces and their armour plate became swallowed up by the darkness of their sheer numbers. Small beowolves and ursai, tiny creeps who were dwarfed even by the immature grimm around them, made up the front ranks; just they alone were so many that it was hard to spot the larger and older grimm that Rainbow absolutely knew would be waiting there in the middle ranks; the only grimm that Rainbow could spot were the particularly big ones: the looming goliaths that rose out of the horde like skyscrapers rising above the ordinary houses to dominate the skyline of a city; or the one-eyed cyclopes standing erect amongst the other grimm who stood on all fours or crouched along the ground. Flying grimm — nevermores, griffons, some teryxes — flew above the heads of the more numerous grimm who were stuck on the ground; the fliers flapped their wings lazily as they hovered in place.

The whole horde — the whole multiple hordes, although Rainbow couldn't see where one horde waited and another one began — was waiting. They weren't attacking; they weren't even creeping forward.

But that didn't mean that they were being silent. The grimm were making as much noise as possible, their howls and roars and bellowing cries warring with the music blaring out of the speakers of the Atlesian Knights behind them. Young beowolves rose up onto their hind legs and joined the looming cyclopes in thumping their chest; goliaths trumpeted defiance; creeps shrieked, and ursai roared, and the whole thing rolled together like a bad orchestra, an awful band who couldn't keep the time so all the instruments just came together in a noise that made you want to cover your ears and turn away. The grimm sounded like that, except that their awful sound was tinged with a desire to kill. That was why, as they roared and howled, the young beowolves lunged forward with their heads, and bared their teeth.

"You know what?" Neon murmured. "I … I kind wish I had a gun right now."

Ciel hitched up her skirt to a daringly short length, revealing a pistol holster strapped around her thigh; she pulled out the pistol and wordlessly handed it to Neon as her skirt fell back down to its normal modest length.

"Thanks," Neon said softly as she took the pistol, checking that it was loaded.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any other spares," Ciel said.

"That's … quite alright, darling," Rarity whispered. "I, uh, I daresay we shall manage." She swallowed. "We will manage, won't we?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, we'll be fine. We've got all the advantages."

The grimm were making it hard to say that with a clear voice. They were making so much noise that they were drowning out the Atlesian music coming from behind, Rainbow could barely make out the trumpets or the drums; all she could hear was the howling and the roaring and the trumpeting. How many grimm were there that they were making so much noise? How many grimm were about to descend upon them?

Neon's knuckles were white as she gripped the borrowed pistol, and Rainbow could see some of the guns in the hands of the military huntsmen shaking.

You need to say something. Remind them about what Colonel Harper said, all the defences the grimm have to get through before they reach us.

Rainbow opened her mouth.

"Soldiers of the Fourth Battalion!"

The words didn't come from Rainbow Dash, but from Colonel Harper as she mounted the rampart accompanied by a young officer, who barely looked older than Rainbow or Blake, and by another Knight with speakers mounted on its shoulders. As she reached the top of the ladder, Colonel Harper threw back her cloak, revealing not only the sword on her hip which she drew with a flourish, but also a pistol on her other hip. She didn't draw that yet; instead, she grabbed a microphone, attached by a cord to her accompanying Knight, and raised it to her lips.

"I've no guarantee the enemy will be considerate enough to let me finish this speech, so I'll try and make it quick," Colonel Harper went on, her words ringing out across the line and beyond. "Soldiers of the Fourth Battalion, we are facing a dangerous foe. You don't need me to tell you how numerous our enemy is; you can look in front of you and see for yourself. This is a horde, and very soon, it will hurl itself upon us in all its fury with only one objective: to sweep us away completely and descend upon the city of Vale that stands behind us.

"But we are not helpless victims. We are not lambs tied up for the slaughter. For the last several months, Atlesian forces have fortified this position against precisely such a moment as this. When the grimm attack, they will be blown apart by our mines, they will tumble into our ditches, they will get caught upon our wire, they will find the way forward blocked by our obstacles and most importantly, they will be fired upon every step of the way. Behind us, our artillery is loaded and ready, and from the skies, our cruisers and Skybolts will rain fire down from the skies upon these monsters. And you, soldiers of Atlas, you will tear these beasts apart before they and their teeth and claws get anywhere near you. Keep your eyes sharp, take careful aim, and keep your fingers on your triggers, and victory will belong to Atlas, and to us.

"Behind us, Vale stands vulnerable; behind us, Vale stands in chaos. Behind us, Vale stands helpless. Vale has no better defenders than we; Vale has no other defenders than we. Our thin white line is all that stands between victory and defeat.

"Defeat will mean not only the loss of an entire city but also the greatest stain upon the honour of Atlesian arms in their entire history. Victory will mean not only the salvation of the city but also the greatest triumph that has ever burnished up the honour of this battalion, or ever will.

"Stand fast. Take heart. Pin your honour to the colours of the Fourth Battalion and show these monsters the pride of Atlas!"

A cheer rose in answer, a cheer bursting from the throats of soldiers all across the line, a cheer that for a moment battled against the roaring of the grimm, pushing against it as if the cheers and roars themselves were the armies, clashing in the field one against the other.

Rainbow looked at Colonel Harper, almost stared at her.

I can see why she got to be a colonel so young.

Colonel Harper caught Rainbow staring and winked at her. She put the microphone back in its cradle on the Knight's sleek white body and strode leftwards down the line, her blue cloak flapping behind her.

Rainbow drew Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome as the grimm quieted for a moment, their roaring and their howling stopping. It stayed stopped for a second, then another, before the grimm roared once again, even louder than before, every grimm in that black mass roaring as one.

And then they began to charge.

The beowolves left the ursai and the creeps behind, streaking ahead of their slower cousins, racing one another to be the first to reach the Atlesian line; the initial cohesion of the grimm was lost as a single front dissolved into several peaks and troughs as the fastest beowolves took the lead and the others in their packs, or just the closest to them, fell behind them. They were like wedges, or they would have been if they'd come to a clear end, but the peaks just dissolved into the solid black mass behind them until another ragged peak rose out of them. The whole thing was like a graph, like something Twi would come up with, with a line that rose and fell but had lots of little ups and downs in amongst the big ones.

The beowolves tore across the field, leading the way. In the air, nevermores and griffons shrieked as they darted forwards, rising up towards the Atlesian cruisers that hung in the skies above.

The roaring of the grimm was persistent as they ran, and so loud that it drowned every other sound, so loud it nearly drowned out thought.

Then the Atlesians opened fire.

It was the sound of the guns that drowned out every other sound as the spider droids started to let loose, the guns barking deeply as they tossed shells high up over the heads of the defenders. Missiles flew through the dark sky in clusters, trailing flame behind them like shooting stars, while yet more missiles fell downwards like thunderbolts from the cruisers above.

Shells and missiles struck together in a wall of fire that covered the battlefield, consuming the first wave of the grimm. Another cheer rose from the ranks of the Atlesian soldiers, before more grimm burst through the flames — the flames caught them in some instances, but the grimm didn't seem to care — leaping or lumbering through the dying explosions as they pressed forwards.

The flying grimm rose, and the Atlesian fighters dived to meet them, even as red laser bolts from the cruisers lanced down to eviscerate teryxes or turn nevermores to ashes. The bombers dived too, the Skybolts flying lower than the Skydarts to strafe the mass of grimm on the ground with their Tempest cannons, to fire missiles at the goliaths as they strode forwards.

The guns and the missiles of the spider droids kept firing, shells bursting and missiles exploding amongst the onward-rushing black mass. Explosions bloomed amongst the grimm, blowing whole clusters of them to pieces, opening up holes in the horde — holes that were filled moments later as the grimm kept coming. The Paladins and the spiders on the front line were firing too now; the spider droids' lasers leapt out to strafe across the grimm line, burning away dozens, scores of them at once, while the Paladins' metallic fists folded back to reveal cannons which fired with a thrumming sound, arms recoiling again and again.

In the skies, fighters duelled with the grimm in a chaotic battle, laser beams criss-crossing through the night sky, grimm only visible as they blocked out the stars or flitted across the face of the broken moon. Down on the ground, the mortars had started to fire as well; the smaller mortars fired starshells which burst in the air, illuminating the onrushing horde, while the larger mortars added their fire to the guns and the missiles, to the lasers and the cannons, to all the fire that was already pounding relentlessly upon the grimm, shredding them, devouring, consuming them in Atlesian fire.

Rainbow grinned at the sight, the fires of the explosions reflected in her magenta eyes. She grinned as she saw the grimm being taught, as other grimm had learned before they died, that teeth and claws and some raw bestial savagery were no match for the sheer technological might that Atlas could bring to bear against them. They were even sparing some fire for their flank, where the grimm were moving on the Valish line to the Atlesian right; a cruiser was directing its fire that way, and spider droids too, and Skybolts strafing in that direction.

"Look at this, Blake!" Rainbow cried as the fires from the sky and the ground hammered the grimm over and over again. "Look at it! Isn't it beautiful!"

The smile on Blake's face was softer, more contemplative, but still a smile. "It's power," she murmured. "It's impressive, but … there are still a lot of them out there."

She was right, unfortunately. The grimm were being battered, they were being burned, they were being consumed in fire, but they kept on coming. They kept on coming in that immense mass, and they were still so thick that Rainbow couldn't spot the apex alpha leading the horde. She could see some of the older beowolves and ursai, the more mature grimm who formed the second wave of any grimm horde, who let the youngsters die to tease out the strength of the enemy defences — they hadn't even done that completely — but there were still a few youngsters left, blessed with luck as they dodged the shells, the missiles, the mortars, who seemed untouchable as they bounded forwards.

They reached the minefield in front of the ditch; Rainbow could have sworn the first to reach it had a look of shock on his face like a funny animal picture in the split second before the mine blew it to ashes and dust.

Other grimm began to reach the minefield in front of the first ditch, and as the mines began to explode beneath them, the ground erupting in explosions, the grimm for the first time seemed to hesitate. They had pushed on through the punishing fire of the shells and the missiles, but now, they seemed unsure of what to do. Some tried to leap clean over the minefield and the ditch beyond; some missed and plunged into the ditch itself, scrabbling wildly with their paws; others made the jump only to get blown up by the mines that lay between the two ditches. The grimm stopped, milling around at the edge of the minefield; some pushed into the mines where they, too, were blown up by the sheer mass of grimm pressing down on them from behind. Others managed to stay away, only to be caught in the murderous fire from the artillery, the missiles, the mechs that continued to rain down on them.

"What are they waiting for?" Blake asked as they watched the grimm halt, holding under the murderous barrage to which they were subjected to.

"I don't know," Rainbow murmured.

A human army, she was sure, would have retreated at this point. A human army probably would have broken already under this amount of fire, but the grimm were different; grimm didn't break. The grimm also didn't seem to know how to go forward either, which was both surprising — why not just step on the mines? Eat the losses like they were eating the losses from the Atlesian fire support — but also, if they really didn't know how to go forward, then why not go back? Why not retreat, instead of holding firm like this like sitting ducks?

But the grimm did hold. They held firm as the Atlesians pummelled them, roaring and howling in defiance even as their roars were cut off by explosions that consumed them.

And then the mines started to explode. No grimm was stepping on them, none of them were even setting foot in the minefield, but the mines were exploding, throwing up clods of earth that momentarily blocked the grimm from view, explosion after explosion rippling across the field as the mines blew up without harming any of the grimm who waited beyond them.

"Creeps!" Blake snapped. "They're using creeps to go underground and detonate the mines!"

"That—" Rainbow started, then stopped. That made an unfortunate, a really unfortunate, amount of sense. "Oh, the sneaky little…"

"Clever creatures," Ciel murmured. "We underestimate them at our peril."

"What about the other mines?" Rarity asked. "The ones on the other side of the ditch? Can the creeps get at them, too?"

"I don't see why they can't just dig underneath the ditch and then come up," Starlight said. "Unless the bedrock stops them."

Maud shook her head. "There isn't enough stone here. The bedrock is too far down. We won't have dug that deep."

Sure enough, as Maud was finished speaking, the mines in the second layer, between the two ditches, also began to explode, first one or two, and then rippling explosions like waves spreading out across the battlefield.

The roaring of the grimm started to sound like laughter, mocking laughter.

"Yeah, laugh it up, assholes; we're still kicking your asses!" Neon bellowed at them.

The grimm started to move forward again as though they'd heard her. Some of them leapt over the ditch to land cleanly on the other side. Others missed their jumps, or else … some of them were actually throwing themselves headlong into the ditch as though they were stupid or something.

Since the grimm weren't stupid, it made Rainbow wonder what they were up to.

"Fourth Battalion!" Colonel Harper's voice echoed out across the line. "Battalion will commence aimed fire at will on my command. Take aim!"

Rifles were tucked more firmly into shoulders, fingers tightened on triggers.

"Fire!"

The Atlesian line exploded in flame as rifles, machine guns, rockets, grenades, all erupted at once. Soldiers and the ghost-like Knights that fought beside them opened fire on the grimm as they struggled to cross the ditches. Rockets traced flaming trails through the night, tracer rounds were hard to distinguish from lasers, Distant Thunder roared very close to Rainbow's ears as Ciel fired, chambered a new round, fired again. Blake was firing too, squeezing off individual shots from Gambol Shroud with a practised patience, every shot carefully aimed. Rainbow opened fire also; it was about the limits of her machine pistols, but if she aimed carefully and controlled her breathing, she could hit something. Like the soldiers around her, she fired in short controlled bursts, a few rounds at a time. With most of the immature grimm dead — it definitely seemed to be the more mature grimm that they were dealing with now — those few rounds wouldn't kill an older beowolf, they wouldn't blow one away the way that Ciel could kill one with a single well-placed shot, but combined with all the other fire being put out from the line, together, it was enough to bring one down.

And the grimm were falling, either in the space between the ditches or on the near side of the second ditch, falling down dead as they took their last few steps towards the rampart, dying under a thousand rounds instead of dying to a single shell, falling to turn to ash as more grimm rushed forward to take their place.

"That's it," declared Colonel Harper as she strode up and down the line, her personal amplifier walking behind her. "That's the style, kids, pour it on! You're the best shots in the whole Atlesian military; now let those monsters know it!"

I bet all the colonels say that, Rainbow thought.

The grimm were falling under the punishing Atlesian fire, but they were also falling down the ditch — down both ditches, as even some of those that jumped easily over the first pit threw themselves into the second like it didn't even matter to them whether they died from the fall or not, or like they were so desperate not to get shot or blown up that they would do anything to get away from it. It was bizarre to watch, as Rainbow fired in short, sharp bursts, these grimm that were being shot at from every which way, strafed from the air, just jumping down into the ditches like … not like lemmings, because Fluttershy had explained that lemmings weren't actually like that at all, but like … pop culture lemmings, if that made sense? Just leaping down into the ditches, more and more grimm, with their arms and legs flailing. Mostly, they were beowolves, even some alpha beowolves, but there were some ursai doing it too, jumping down into the ditch.

Jumping into the ditch and filling it up.

It took a while for Rainbow — for anyone, she guessed — to realise that was what the grimm were doing. At first, the grimm just disappeared into the ditch, which had been dug so deep that you couldn't stand on the rampart and see the bottom; so the grimm jumped in, and nobody could see them anymore. Nobody could see them, nobody could shoot at them, the artillery and the missiles were aiming past the ditch at the grimm still coming up beyond, and so, the grimm who survived that were free to keep jumping in and jumping in until the Atlesians could start to see them, the grimm all packed together, filling up the ditches with their black bodies, filling them up so that the bigger grimm, the goliaths and the cyclopes, the beringels, the big ursai major, they could all just walk across the ditches, stepping on their fellow grimm along the way, crossing what would have been impossible for grimm their size to jump.

Crossing the obstacles meant to keep them at bay.

The first goliaths crossed the inner ditch, trumpeting their accomplishment as the earth trembled beneath their tread. More goliaths behind them died from artillery fire, or were torn apart by missiles, but some goliaths made it, and cyclopes too, while beowolves and ursai gathered around their feet.

Ciel fired. Distant Thunder roared as a goliath, its bony elephantine skull cracked, turned away with a snort of pain. Spider droids concentrated their lasers on the immense targets, burning through bone and turning the elephant-like grimm to ashes. The Paladins, the soldiers with the rocket launchers, they were all concentrating their fire on the large grimm who now stood on the threshold of the Atlesian defences; the Atlesian cruisers were turning their fire that way too, where they were not too oppressed by nevermores or griffons flocking around them; they turned their main guns down on the goliaths and the cyclopes.

Indeed, it seemed as though more and more soldiers were turning their guns in that direction.

"If all you've got is a rifle, don't aim for the big ones!" Colonel Harper shouted. "Aim for the beowolves and ursai; leave the big bastards to the big guns."

Rainbow was doing that, had been doing that, taking aim at the smaller grimm that scuttled around the feet of their much larger cousins. But even as she kept up her fire, she couldn't help but keep an eye on the big grimm as they lumbered forwards. Some died, by laser fire or sustained rockets and missiles, or because the artillery was firing so short that Rainbow kept wanting to duck as the shells arced high overhead. But others kept on coming, and if they kept on coming much closer, then they would surely reach the wall or the rampart.

And once they did, they would break through.

The grimm kept coming.

Rainbow's thoughts were interrupted by a curse from Starlight.

"The Valish!" Starlight shouted. "The Valish have broken!"

Author's Note

This chapter functions as kind of a best case for the Atlesian military, with all of its component parts working in harmony to deliver a lot of punch.

Breaking Point (New)

Breaking Point

As the Skyray carried them along, Ruby could feel Yang's eyes on her.

It was only Ruby and Team YRBN — Team YRN, she supposed, or Y_RN, or however you were supposed to spell it when a team was down to three people — were the only ones in the airship. Well, there was the pilot and the co-pilot up at the front, but other than that, it was just the four of them. They weren't having to share the airship with any other team.

At first, Ruby had thought that that was lucky, but now, she was wondering if maybe the presence of another team — not SAPR, but another team that Ruby and YRN didn't know well or at all — might not have proved a welcome distraction.

A distraction for Yang to stop her staring at Ruby, or a distraction for Ruby so that she didn't notice Yang staring.

Ruby was facing away from her sister, looking out of the open doors of the Atlesian airship as it carried them towards the Mistralian command post. The Atlesian pilots weren't willing to take them all the way to the Valish line, so Team YRRN — as Nora had suggested it be called — would have to walk the rest of the way. It shouldn't be too far, though, so they ought to make it before the battle began.

Or at least, even if they didn't make it before the battle began, they should be reasonably sure of making it before it ended.

Ruby looked out. She couldn't see the Mistralians yet, still less the Valish, but it was dark, so they might have been closer to their destination than they seemed; she certainly hoped so, although she doubted that even arriving at their destination and starting to walk would grant her complete freedom from Yang's eyes on her.

She might have to actually say something, as much as she didn't really want to.

There isn't time to talk about everything, and even if there was, I don't know if I'd want to talk about it all in front of Ren and Nora.

I'm not sure that I'd want to talk about it all just to Yang.

Why can't she just drop it?

Ruby tried to focus on what she could see outside the airship, to take her mind of what — on who — was seeing her within. This part of the land just beyond Vale wasn't completely deserted; a lot of it was farmland without the actual farms, sure, but this particular part they were flying over had a couple of small old villages that hadn't been completely swallowed up by the city — yet. Vale was always growing, and so more and more of what had once been little places like these villages and hamlets were being swallowed up by the steady advance of the city limits. Of course, that was part of the reason why the Green Line had been proposed, as a protection not just for the farmland — who needed to protect farmland from grimm, and it wasn't as though Vale had a huge bandit problem — but for the people who lived in growing numbers out beyond the Red Line and the wall. The outer defences had been supposed to protect the spreading suburbs, but also all the little hamlets that Ruby could see directly beneath them, the lights on so that they shone like little beacons in the dark, or the big houses of the people who owned the villages which also sat here and there in this part of the country. The Green Line had been meant to be their shield, not just an outer tripwire for Vale, but a wall for the people who lived outside of Vale's actual wall. Unfortunately, there weren't yet enough people like that, and, well, if you didn't have the numbers, then you didn't matter in a democracy, and so, these people had lost out, just like the people in the countryside and the small settlements had lost out for years to the big cities.

Honestly, if Ruby hadn't known about the Equestrian monster and the mind control and stuff, then Ruby might well have nodded at General Blackthorn taking over the kingdom. Might, not necessarily would, but might. Not because she wanted a tyranny or thought that everyone deserved to lose their freedom overnight, but because there had to be a better way of organising a kingdom, a way that looked out for everyone, not just the selfish majority who thought only of themselves.

A better way than these short-sighted Councillors who had continuously elevated other concerns above the good of the Valish.

Councillor Novo, and Councillor Emerald too, had been more concerned with how things seemed than how they were, more concerned with making Vale look safe, and making its people feel safe, than with actually keeping Vale safe from danger. That was why they were in this position, with grimm gathering in huge numbers outside the walls, because Vale’s Councillors had been unwilling to act to protect the people in case it made them temporarily unpopular.

Vale needed a leader who could tell its people some hard truths, someone who would say what needed to be said instead of what would be well received, who would do what was best instead of what was popular. A shepherd of the people, to borrow a phrase from Pyrrha's Mistralian epics — only without the shearing or the eating lamb.

A shepherd who only cared for the flock, but who didn’t exploit it or want anything from it in return for their protection. A shepherd … who wouldn’t be much of a shepherd at all, would they?

The more Ruby thought about it, the more that phrase seemed to say more about the Mistralians than they realised — or wanted to admit.

Not a shepherd, then. But not a sausage seller either, appealing to the crowd. Protecting people, the highest good and calling, meant sometimes…

Meant sometimes treating the people the way that Sunset and Pyrrha had treated her so infuriatingly.

That’s different! I’m not one of the people, I’m one of their protectors! I’m talking about the people who are weak and in need of strong defence.

As they need protection, as they need and deserve to have their lives preserved, so do they also require guidance; otherwise, they’ll just make choices that make them less safe, less secure; they’ll fall prey to liars with silver tongues who take advantage of their trust.

Even huntsmen and huntresses aren’t immune to that.

Ruby closed her eyes.

I understand that sometimes protecting people, helping them, saving them, means giving them what they need instead of what they want. I understand that it might mean setting limits, the way that a good dad sets limits for his kids when they’re growing up.

I just wanted to be one of the protectors, instead of the protected.

I am one of the protectors, and I wanted to be treated that way.

Ruby could feel Yang looking at her, her eyes burning into the back of Ruby's neck.

"You don't need to keep staring at me, Yang," Ruby said.

"I'm not staring," Yang replied.

"Yes," Ruby said. "Yes, you are."

Yang didn't answer for a second. "I … well, I just … come on, Ruby, this is a little … what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Ruby said.

"Then … why are you here?" Yang asked gently.

"I think we're almost there," Ren said, sparing Ruby from replying.

Ruby thought he was right; raising her eyes from the ground to the sky, she could see one of the two immense Mistralian battleships — the one that they hadn't handed over to the Valish — lit up by the moonlight falling on its bulk, its armour, its huge number of guns. Ruby didn't know how good of a warship it actually was — she had a feeling that Rainbow Dash would tell her it was awful — but it was an impressive sight to look at. Someone had actually put that whole thing together, first dreamed it up and then created it, pulled everyone together to make it just how they wanted; someone had conceived this and seen it made a reality.

As for the effectiveness of it all, Ruby was sure it had been a good idea at the time, and even if it hadn't been, that was no reason not to admire the effort they'd put into it.

There was some reason to wish that the ship was further forward — it seemed to be hovering over the Mistralian camp when, if everything went well, then the Mistralians would be sitting this whole battle out — but the ship wasn't going to fly up and help the Valish on the line because … because it wasn't a Valish ship, and the Valish had wasted their ship picking a fight with the Atlesians. Which wasn't their fault, but still…

Anyway, the point was that, unlike the Atlesians, they couldn't expect air cover. They'd just have to make do with their own weapons, their own courage; they'd have to be like huntsmen and huntresses, without any of the fancy toys that the Atlesians used to make their lives easier.

Blake was probably going to get very lazy once she got to Atlas.

The airships proved Ren right by starting their descent, all the Skyrays turning towards the ground, carrying within them the Beacon and Haven students — and Teams UMBR and Team GEAR of Shade, the only teams from Shade, which Ruby thought people should find more annoying than they seemed to; why was everyone just accepting this? Why was everyone shrugging their shoulders at it? Why was no one angry, yelling, cursing them out, screaming at them to act like huntsmen? Maybe it wouldn't have actually helped at all, but it would have made Ruby feel a little less alone in her thoughts. As far as she could make out from Yang and Nora, it wasn't even that the Shade students were hiding because they were afraid; they just didn't want to fight. Somehow, that felt even worse. It was one thing to be scared, it was another thing to just not be bothered.

The airships would be leaving them here, returning to the Atlesian lines for Atlesian purposes.

But they'd be fine without them; they could make do. That was what huntsmen did; they made do the best they could.

The Mistralian camp, which came into focus more as the airships dropped through the night sky, was a sprawling, ramshackle thing, a forest of tents spread out across the Valish fields. Pennants stuck in the ground acted as rough rallying spots for units, while a Mistralian banner had been placed in front of a particularly large tent which Ruby guessed either belonged to their leader — Polemarch Yeoh, Pyrrha had said her name was — or a command post for all the senior officers to meet. Or both, maybe.

That tent was roughly in the middle of the camp, but beyond that, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of order or reason to it. It looked more like everyone had just pitched their tent wherever, like a huge camping trip or something.

The airships flew underneath the looming bulk of the battleship to descend on the edge of the camp, where bodies of men and women had already gathered. They weren't in ranks, but they were in clumps, sitting or standing in distinct groups, waiting for … waiting for the grimm to break through the Valish line maybe, or for them to be called upon, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Waiting for something to happen. Ruby saw some of them turn their faces up towards the airships as they came down.

The Skyrays didn't land, but they hovered close enough to the ground that the huntsmen and huntresses within could dismount easily, leaping down onto the ground below; it was hard and dry from the lack of rain recently.

As the huntsmen leapt from the airships, which barely seemed to wait for them to get out before they rose up into the air again — they really were very keen to get rid of their passengers and return to their own lines — a woman strode out from the clumps of Mistralians. She looked … she didn't look like Raven at all, but she had that same air about her, like she could be fifty or sixty, but she still looked the same as she did when she was sixteen; the Mistralian woman looked like that, ageless.

Maybe Yang would turn out the same way, just like her mom.

The Mistralian woman, dark-haired and wearing a blue uniform, with a sword at her hip, strode forwards … towards Pyrrha, obviously.

"Welcome!" she declared. "Welcome to all the heroes of Mistral! How honoured we are to have this opportunity to fight by your sides."

Pyrrha gave some soft reply, so soft that Ruby couldn't work out exactly what it was she'd said.

The Mistralian woman — was this Polemarch Yeoh? Ruby hadn't seen any pictures of her — hadn't been speaking quietly before, but now, she raised her voice even louder. "Great ones in Mistral now asleep, or huddled gawping round a TV set, will think themselves accursed they were not here to fight with us this night—"

Ruby turned away. She wasn't interested, and there were more important things to do. "Come on," she said to the others. "We should get moving."

"Yeah, we should," Yang said, sounding like she was almost but not quite sighing about the fact.

There was no guide waiting for them, no Valish officer or soldier come to lead them up to the front line, but Ruby and the others could roughly work out where the line was; all they had to do was head due eastwards after all, and if they really needed to, they could look at a map on their scrolls. So, guide or not, they set off, walking across the field they had just landed in in the direction of the Valish position.

Looking around, Ruby saw some other Beacon teams, like CFVY, doing the same, heading off towards the Valish line and the battle along with it. They didn't come any closer to Team YRRN, nor did YRRN seek to get any closer to them, or any other team for that matter. They weren't going anywhere; they just all happened to be going to around about the same place.

"Are you…?" Yang began, then let her words trail off. She was quiet for a second or two as the four of them trudged further away from the Mistralian camp. Ren drifted a little away from the others, casting significant glances towards Nora as he did so; Nora didn't look inclined to go anywhere.

Yang spoke again, "Ruby … what’s going on?”

Ruby huffed. “I don’t have time to expl—”

“Talk fast and summarise,” Yang said. “Because I can’t just ignore—”

“Ruby’s right,” Ren said. “While I understand your concern, Yang, this is hardly the time. We need to keep moving.”

Yang looked over Ruby’s head — at Ren, Ruby guessed, and was able to confirm it by looking around herself.

When she looked back at Yang, she saw that her eyes had turned slightly red.

Nevertheless, when Ruby looked at Ren again, she saw him standing his ground, unfazed by her display of anger.

Because he knows he’s right. Like I know, even though no one else agrees.

Yang frowned but said, “Okay. You’re right.” She turned away and strode in the direction of the Valish line, leaving everyone else running to catch up with her. “But we have to talk about this at some point because…” She paused for a moment. “I like the fact that we get the chance to fight together — really, I do; I wasn’t lying about that — it’s just … you can’t expect me to just see you acting like you have been, forgetting your weapon, everything else, and then not expect me to worry a little bit.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Ruby insisted, albeit in a quiet, almost muttering kind of way..

“Forgive me for being sceptical about that,” Yang replied, muttering a bit herself.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Yang; come on,” Nora said, giving Ruby a pat on the back so firm that Ruby stumbled forwards and nearly fell over flat on her face on the ground. “Sometimes, things just don’t work out, even if you want them to. And sometimes, people don’t want them to work out.” She paused. “I’m talking about them, by the way, not you, Ruby. Sometimes … sometimes, people are just jerks.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yang replied. “But they didn’t—”

“And sometimes, people have different faces,” Nora went on. “Sometimes, the most respectable and respected, the most admired, the most popular guy, the ‘pillar of the community’ will turn out to be the most despicable, the most self-centred, the most … sometimes … sometimes, it takes a while to see the real … them, I guess. Sometimes, people put on a show for the people they want to like them and show who they really are to people that don’t matter. Sometimes, everyone puts on a show for one another except for the one person they’ve marked out as deserving everything that happens to them. I guess that might not all make a ton of sense, but what I’m trying to say is that, just because people seem nice doesn’t mean they always are, and it can sometimes take a while to work out who they really are underneath.”

“It’s not that,” Ruby said. She paused for a second. “I mean, I guess it kind of is like that, but not as bad. Not as … hard. They’re not … they’re not bad people,” and although I didn’t like the way they treated me, they didn’t mean anything bad by it. They just saw me as one of those who needed to be protected, not one of the protectors. “They’re not bad people,” she repeated. “They’re just not for me, and I’m … not for them. We’re too different. I don’t blame them, but I realise now that it isn’t gonna work. It’s nobody’s fault, but … that’s just how it is.”

“That sounds rather certain,” Ren murmured.

“It is,” Ruby replied. “Trust me, I’ve given it long enough. I’m sure. This is just the way it is. It’s not working out, and it isn’t going to.”

“So … what are you saying?” Yang asked quietly, almost whispering the question. “If it isn’t working out with Team Sapphire, then … what?”

“You could come and join us full time?” Nora suggested. “I mean there’s a spot open.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said, a little touch of a laugh entering her voice. That … that would be something, wouldn’t it? Stay at Beacon after all, just change teams.

She could do it. She could do it very easily; it wasn’t even as if she’d told anyone that she was leaving school. The only people that she’d told about it were Leaf and Juturna, Amber and Dove, and two of them weren’t in any position to be asked about it, and the other two … still weren’t in any position to be asked about it, albeit for more benign reasons. The point was that, if Ruby decided, there and then, to change her mind, to stay at Beacon, to join Team YRRN, let Penny join a team with Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha, then … who would know? Who was to stop her?

And if I do that, then Yang might get to join Professor Ozpin’s group as well.

And Ren and Nora. Although I’m not sure if they’d want that.

But it would make Professor Goodwitch very happy, anyway.

Would it make me happy?

Ruby glanced at Yang. It was Yang, it was her sister, it was the person who had always been there for her…

Been there for her and protected her. Which was kind of the problem, wasn’t it? Ruby had had quite enough protection.

But it was still Yang. And Ruby had gotten over the feeling of taint that had started to pervade the whole of Beacon after finding out what Sunset had done; she no longer felt so itchy, so dirty, so eager to begone as she had done. Sleep had done wonders that way, or at least, sleep had helped her to … come to a new understanding. She could stay at Beacon, if she wanted to; even if Sunset did likewise, Ruby wouldn’t be physically revolted by her presence, wouldn’t be incapable of sharing a room with her. Sunset would not be torture to her, instead … she would be like a fly, a buzzing fly, a little irritating to have around, but not really important. Ruby could put up with Sunset’s presence, just so long as she didn’t have to put up with being on the same team as her — still less led by her. She could manage, if she wanted to.

But did she want to? That was the question, wasn’t it?

Did she want to stay here?

Did she want to stay at Beacon?

Why? Stay at Beacon for what? What would she get out of it, other than the pleasure of Yang's company or the chance to get to know Ren and Nora a little better?

Three more years with a different team, with Yang.

With my big sister. Hmm.

Three more years with a team, instead of being on my own.

I can handle myself … probably.

Against a lot of things, definitely.

I can do this. The only question is whether I really want to.

Or whether I want to spend more time with Yang and her friends.

And whether I want to uphold the principle of the system or make it work for me.

Why shouldn't I do what I want? Everyone else does.

Leaf and Juturna had both told her to go for it, in their own ways; so, too, in his own way, had Turnus. Nobody had suggested that she was wrong, nobody had given her a good reason to stay, and though Ruby herself could think of a couple, they were kind of … abstract, was that the word? They weren't about to set her heart on fire.

Leaf had told her, and Ruby thought that she was probably right about this, that there were times when you needed to make a big leap to change your life.

Changing teams just wasn't it.

It might have been fun, it might have been better if things had been that way, it might have been … but it wasn't. And it wasn't to be.

She wanted to protect people. She had always wanted to protect people. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, that had always been her heart’s desire. Why should she put that on hold just to sit in a classroom, when she didn’t have to?

"Maybe," Ruby lied, because she didn't want to have that conversation right now. "I'll think about it."

She would tell Yang the truth … later. Maybe when she told Dad. Best to get it done all at once than have to keep talking about it to different people.

And all of that after she'd spoken to Iona, because if Iona said no, if she wasn't willing to help Ruby cheat the system, if she wanted a graduated and licensed huntress on her side — and that was absolutely her right; Ruby wouldn't blame her at all if she said 'how can I trust someone who can't even commit to four years at school to commit to me?' — then Ruby wouldn't have much choice but to take up that offer on Team YRRN, would she?

It might not be the best thing for her — it wouldn't be — but at least it would be something. It would be better than burning her bridges now, leaping off, and then finding out that there was nothing waiting to catch her underneath.

Since Amber and Dove were … hardly going to be asked about this if anyone saw them again, then she might as well keep this all to herself until the arrangements had been made. Or at least until she found out for sure that the arrangements were possible.

All of this was in the future anyway; it didn't matter for tonight. Tonight, even if it was for just one night only, she was a part of Team YRRN, so tonight, that was all that mattered.

They walked on, through the dark and the open fields, past the odd standing tree and the occasional cottage, past an abandoned old manor house in the distance with an overgrown garden and vines climbing up the walls. They walked on, heading east, knowing that they would have to hit the Green Line soon, at some point, since they could hardly miss it except by turning north to Beacon. They walked past standing stones — or stones that had stood once but had now toppled down onto the ground — past rings of mushrooms glowing with an eerie pale blue light, past silent graveyards where the moss climbed over the half-forgotten monuments.

They walked through the night where the foxes shrieked, where the owls called out into the dark, where the grass trembled and the hedgerows shook with the approach of unseen creatures. The night that belonged to nature and where the huntsmen and huntresses who trudged towards and in search of the Valish line were the intruders.

They walked and walked, and gradually, eventually, they came upon the Valish line.

They came to it in stages, the signs of the Valish presence multiplying as they got closer and closer. First, they came to the artillery, to a quartet of guns with slender barrels, with two metal legs spread out on either side of the wheels. The barrels of the guns were pointed up and eastward, to fire over the heads of the soldiers who were presumably further forwards. A few men and women, no more than four, stood by or sat at each gun, and they all seemed to be staring at Team YRRN.

In the darkness, their eyes seemed to gleam with suspicion.

We are sure the Equestrian monster is dead, right?

"They're not gonna try and kill us, are they?" Nora whispered.

Yang laughed, only a little nervously. "Hey, guys. Is this the way to the front line?"

None of the soldiers in Valish green said anything, but one of them pointed wordlessly in the direction in which Team YRRN had been going already.

"Right," Yang said. "Thanks."

She looked at the others and winced as she led them on, past the guns — Ruby thought that she could see a few more guns, still clumped in fours or maybe sixes — further away, half hidden in the darkness of the night — and further on towards the line itself.

"They were a cheerful bunch," Nora muttered.

"They're probably out of sorts," Ren replied. "It's been a … long night for them."

"It's been a long night for us too," Nora said. "We've been fighting at the arena and down at the school docking pads; what have they been doing all night?"

"Getting orders to start fighting the Atlesians?" Yang suggested.

"It's a good thing they didn't obey those orders," Ren murmured. "But it would be understandable if they've been left confused, on edge, suspicious."

"What have they got to be suspicious of us for?" Nora asked. "Haven't they seen us on TV?"

"All I'm saying is," said Ren, "maybe cut them a little slack."

In front of the guns, they found the tanks, that seemed actually more numerous than the artillery, drawn up in a line behind the line, guns pointed out over the heads of the infantry towards the hordes of grimm that waited beyond. The tanks were pretty old; the company that had designed and built them — Valish Leland — didn't exist anymore; it had … Ruby couldn't actually remember what had happened to it, but they'd made Dad's first car, not the one he had now, one he got when he first graduated, and he didn't have a single good word to say about it in any of his stories, so maybe people just stopped buying their product because they sucked.

Anyway, the tanks were older than Dad's first car, and older than Dad himself in design, if not in manufacture. It was a little weird to think of things that were older than her father being used in battle, but then, people her father's age or older were actually fighting in battle, so why not the equipment too? And, like the old Mistralian battleship that they'd landed beneath, the fact that they were old and maybe not the best at what they were meant to do didn't detract in Ruby's eyes from the engineering accomplishment of them. Just getting things that were that big and that heavy, covered with so much solid metal plate, to move itself, to move its turret, that was impressive, leaving everything else aside.

Most of the tanks, from what Ruby could see, were 'Cataphracts,' with a short-barrelled howitzer emerging out of the squat turrets, but even in the moonlight, Ruby could also see a few 'Archer' variants with a longer, higher velocity gun for dealing with large or heavily armoured targets. Most of the tanks, of whichever type, were facing outwards, with their fronts to the grimm, but a few had turned sideways, with their turrets rotated so as to still point outwards.

Ruby could not imagine why they had done that unless it was to look cool.

"That," Nora said, as she, too, took in the tanks with their turrets and their hull-mounted weapons and their side sponsons and the machine gun near the hatch on top of the turret, "is a lot of guns."

Ruby nodded. "The idea was to cover as many different angles as possible so that the grimm couldn't get into its blindspots. Because it wouldn't have any," she added, in case that wasn't clear.

"What about the back?" asked Ren.

Ruby hesitated. "The back … yeah, it still has one blind spot. The back is where the engine is."

"So, are they any good or what?" Nora asked.

"Well," Ruby said, "the only time they've ever really been used was around Mountain Glenn, and that…" She didn't go on. She didn't need to go on. Everyone knew what had happened around Mountain Glenn. As the city grew, the Council had assigned soldiers to join the huntsmen who had protected the initial fledgling colony, and tanks like these had been part of the aggressive defence that had sought to keep the grimm away by hitting them hard before they could draw near to the city. It hadn't worked, and the Valish units assigned to undertake it had been wiped out, never to be re-established.

And the city had fallen anyway, so it hadn't even been for anything.

Tanks had not saved Mountain Glenn … the next uncomfortable thought was that no one should expect them to save Vale either.

But Vale isn't Mountain Glenn; we've got the Atlesians helping us, and the Mistralians. And we're here too. Tanks might not save Vale, but we will.

"That's reassuring," Nora muttered.

"They might have blind spots at the back, and the armour might not be able to withstand all grimm claws," Ruby admitted, "but the guns still work fine, and so as long as they stay behind the line, then it should all be okay."

It wasn't just tanks parked behind the line; there were armoured cars and some armoured transports as well, long-bodied vehicles with small turrets and small guns, which — along with some unarmed and unarmoured trucks — must have belonged to the infantry. The crew … Ruby and the others couldn't see the crew of any of these vehicles; no one was sticking their heads up out of the turrets; nobody was standing outside the tank or the transport; everyone was buttoned up inside.

Or else there was no one inside, and the tanks were just empty, sitting there like so many sculptures or statues or whatever. But that couldn't be right. Where would everyone have gone? They wouldn't just walk off and abandon their vehicles, and if they had, then Team YRRN and the other students would have met them coming the other way. No, they were in; they were just being very quiet.

At least, Ruby hoped they were. She would have rapped on the armour — or asked Yang or Nora to do it; they'd make more noise than her — to see if there was a response, but if there were people inside, then she didn't want to disturb them; they were probably concentrating.

So they kept on walking, past the tanks, at which point, it was only a short distance to the infantry and the front line itself, their destination reached at last.

The infantry were dressed in green jackets and black trousers, with black helmets and green cockades. They weren't wearing any body armour. It was hard to tell who was supposed to be in charge, as the troops were slightly unevenly spread out across the line. In some places, they stood upon incomplete sections of wall, looking out over the parapet, while in other places, the gaps between the wall, they had strung barbed wire between the walls and made a barricade out of sandbags, on which soldiers rested their rifles. There were some old-looking machine guns, so old that some of them were on wheels or big clunky tripods, others more modern-looking, lighter and leaner. The line was uneven, and not everyone was standing or kneeling at the sandbags; some people were standing just behind the line, casting anxious glances outwards towards the grimm or envious glances back towards Vale.

One of them, a sergeant with three stripes on his arms, was the first to notice them. He was a man about Dad's age, maybe a couple of years younger, with short, curly red-brown hair and a sharp nose. He had a bulky, square Valish rifle slung over his shoulder, and his hands thrust under his armpits, although Ruby didn't think it was that cold.

He said, "Alright, what are you—?" He paused. "I know you, blondie, you're the one who was on the telly today, wasn't you?"

Yang chuckled. "Yeah, that's me. Yang Xiao Long, of Team Iron."

"Name's Robbins. Sergeant Robbins, Patch Light Infantry. You was robbed, let me tell you. Daylight robbery. You 'ad that in the bag."

"Eh," Yang shrugged. "You win some, you lose some."

"It was a disappointment to my little 'uns," Sergeant Robbins went on. "I've been stuck 'ere instead of 'ome with them, but they called me up to tell me so. They thought you were smashing."

"I'm happy to hear that and sorry to have disappointed them," Yang said. "But, uh, sergeant—"

"So what's a bigshot like you doing out 'ere, anyway?" Sergeant Robbins went on, without waiting for Yang to finish.

"We're here to fight the grimm," Ruby said.

"Didn't anyone tell you we were coming?" asked Nora.

"Told?" Sergeant Robbins cried. "We've been told a lot of things tonight. First, General Blackthorn gets on the 'orn to all units, telling us to fight the Atlesians; then Councillor Emerald gets on the blower and says that we're not to fight the Atlesians, and by the way, General Blackthorn's been committed on account of being as mad as a box of hoppin’ frogs, thank you very much. And everyone's to go back to barracks. Except us, probably, we're to stay 'ere. Then we hear from Colonel Sky Beak if you please of the La-Di-Da Dragoons, and he says that we're definitely to stay 'ere and prepare to receive attack, and Vale's counting on us, but no word of reinforcements, no, nor any sign of relief. It's enough to make your 'ead spin, let alone wonder if you're coming or going. I don't know who we're supposed to be listening to."

"Anyone but General Blackthorn," Yang said.

"I get that it must be confusing," Ruby added. "It would probably confuse me too, but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that…” She paused, wondering if she ought to keep going. It was clear to her just from what the sergeant had said, from the silence of the tanks, from the sullen looks in the eyes of the Valish soldiers that verged upon hostility, that morale around here wasn’t great. Understandable, but not a good thing, considering. These people, these soldiers, could do with something to inspire them.

But could she do that? It had been shown that she … she didn’t really get other people. Things that seemed right to her, obviously right, didn’t seem that way to everyone else. It might be the same here; her words might fall on deaf ears, or do more harm than good.

But all the same, despite the risk, she had to try. She couldn’t just say nothing.

She would just have to keep it as simple as possible.

“I know you must be scared,” she said. She wasn’t scared, but she guessed that everyone else was. “I know that it’s pretty scary out there. But isn’t Vale your home? The sergeant’s children live there; what about the rest of you, don’t you families? If we don’t stop the grimm here, then who’s going to protect them? You have to fight, we all have to fight, because Vale really is counting on you, just like Colonel Sky Beak said. And so is everyone who lives in it. So is everyone you care about, everyone you know and love,” she added, because most people didn’t care about people they didn’t know, did they? “They’re all depending on you to protect them from the grimm, so just think about them and let the thought of them give you courage. Fight for everyone you love, and you’ll see them again, safe and sound!”

There wasn’t much of a response. Ruby didn’t need to get a cheer or anything, but this dead silence wasn’t encouraging.

Sergeant Robbins didn't reply for a couple of seconds, before he said, "Well, if you're here to help, then welcome to our 'umble battle line. Make room for the 'eroes, fellas; they've come to take the loads off our backs."

"We're here to help," Ren said calmly.

As they moved to take their places on the firing line, Ruby felt a hand — Yang’s hand — upon her shoulder.

“Not bad,” Yang said. “But you missed the part where you explain how we’re going to hold this line.”

Ruby looked up at her. “Is that an important part?”

“Professor Goodwitch would say they’re all important,” Yang replied.

“So how are we going to hold this line?” asked Nora quietly. “Because I kinda wouldn’t mind knowing that myself.”

There was a pause in which nobody, not even Ruby, said anything.

By shooting everything that comes near, and then hitting everything that comes closer?

Is that it, or does it need to be more specific?

Ruby glanced down the line; not too far away, she could see Team CFVY, and other teams beyond them, joining the Valish line; she wondered if they were having similar conversations to the one they had just concluded with the soldiers where they were.

She could imagine how things could have gotten confusing for them, but hopefully, now they would find things a lot simpler.

Now that the grimm were about to attack.

And they were about to attack. Ruby could tell. Now that they had finally reached the Valish line, the grimm were plain to see, for all the distance between them, for all that it was dark and the grimm were usually harder to see in the darkness. Maybe it was the moonlight, because the moon was bright tonight; or maybe it was the fact that there were so many grimm out there, and they had no interest in hiding. They didn’t want to blend in with the darkness of the night; they wanted to be seen. Just like they wanted to be heard.

There were so many of them. So, so many, spread out across … Ruby could look from one side to the other, and she couldn’t see where the grimm started or where they ended, and she certainly couldn’t see where they ended at the back. There were so many of them they made the horde that had pursued them down the tunnel from Mountain Glenn seem like just a pack of beowolves by comparison.

There were so many of them, and they were making so much noise too. They were all roaring, all howling, all shouting to the broken moon like they wanted to break it further with the noise they were making, like they were going to charge the night sky, and not the Valish line. The goliaths that rose above the other grimm like the tallest trees in the forest trumpeted to the stars. The beowolves in the front ranks beat their chests and bared their teeth.

There were a lot of grimm. Had there been this many grimm at Ozpin’s Stand after Mountain Glenn fell? Or was Ruby face to face with even more grimm than even her parents and Uncle Qrow had been up against when they made their names?

Ruby closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment.

Let me be brave.

Let me be as brave as you.

She looked up and opened her eyes again. “What’s the plan?”

“Who are you asking?” demanded Sergeant Robbins, his voice shaking. “You’re the one what goes to school for this; you tell me. What are we supposed to do against … against all that lot, eh?”

Ruby pulled Crescent Rose out from behind her, spinning the weapon in her hand as it unfolded its thorns, slamming the scythe point down hard into the earth on the other side of the sandbags. “The plan…” she began, then trailed off, because she still wasn’t sure that ‘shoot all of them, and then engage in close combat’ was enough of a plan to count.

Unfortunately, faced with the sheer numbers of the grimm in front of them — and what was honestly not the best defensive position to try and defend, it had to be said — there weren’t any better plans coming to mind.

“The plan,” Yang said. “The plan is that we try and take out as many of them as we can, with our fire, before they reach us. If it looks like they’re actually going to reach our line, then we’ll fall back towards the Mistralian camp — and while we’re on the subject, send a … who's actually in charge here?”

Ruby couldn’t help but notice that Yang’s plan wasn’t much more complicated than the best she’d been able to come up with.

That was reassuring to her on one level, even as it was maybe a little concerning on another.

“Major Wills has been the commanding officer since Colonel Blackthorn got promoted up to General Blackthorn,” Sergeant Robbins said. “But I’ve not heard much out of him lately.”

“Okay, then send someone back to the Mistralians and tell them we could really use their help up here right now,” Yang said.

“We’re going to retreat?” Ruby asked. Not hostilely, just to make sure, to clarify for her own benefit.

“If we have to, yes,” Yang said. “There aren’t enough of us to go head to head with them in close combat; there are too many, and we’re spread too thin; we’d be encircled. We shoot at them, and if they get too close, we open up more space so we can keep shooting. We fight and retreat.”

“What about when there’s no more room to retreat?” Ruby asked. “What about when we reach the wall?”

“Then we’ll stand on the wall!” Yang snapped, a whiff of smoke rising from her hair. “I’m trying my best here, Ruby.”

Ruby swallowed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Yang said quickly. “I know, it’s just…” She hesitated. “We can’t just stand here until we get overrun; what good will that do?” She grinned. “I didn’t lead you here for a last stand.”

“And I didn’t come here to make one,” Ruby said softly.

She looked down the scope of Crescent Rose; the grimm immediately grew larger in her sight; she could make them out so much better now; they were individual grimm and not just a black mass distinguished by the occasional really big grimm that stuck out above the others. She could see the smaller, immature beowolves in front — typical horde behaviour; send in the cannon fodder first to spare the older, larger grimm the initial fire from the defenders — and she could see the creeps stalking in between their legs; she could see the ursai behind; she could see the really big grimm, the goliaths and the cyclopes; she even thought that she could see a few beringels, as big as some ursai, although it was hard to say for sure because they were keeping themselves to the middle of the horde, if they were here. So many different grimm — was that a stormvermin? She thought it was; again, it was down low, moving around the edges of the beowolves. So many different kinds of grimm, big and small.

“Send the runner!” Yang ordered.

“R-right,” Sergeant Robbins said. “Forshie, run back to the Mistralians and tell ‘em … tell ‘em we could use some ‘elp, on the double, yeah.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Sarge,” one of the other soldiers said before she scrambled away and began to run off, past the tanks, into the night in the direction of the Mistralian camp.

Ruby hoped that she found it okay. It was hard to look at all these grimm, especially up close through the scope like she was looking at them, and not think that they could use all the help they could get.

"Hey, Ruby," Nora said. "Do you think if you were to shoot one of those guys, it would shut them up for a second?"

The grimm fell silent. Even the flying grimm, the nevermores and the griffons and the teryxes hovering over the heads of the horde — and they were worrying Ruby a little bit, because it wasn't as though they had any airships to take them on — stopped shrieking. The whole horde, or at least the part of it facing them, went quiet.

As quiet as death.

Nora blinked. "Huh. Who knew we just needed to say something?"

A single immense roar ripped from the grimm's collective throat; before, they had all roared separately, like a disorganised mob all wanting something different, all trying to make themselves heard. Now, they roared like a crowd in the Amity Colosseum, like all the Mistralian fans joining together to sing about how it was coming home.

Now, it was the grimm's turn to roar with one voice, a voice like the storm, a voice like a hurricane, a single voice crying out that tonight, they would be the ones bringing it home.

And as they roared, they charged.

The beowolves and ursai, who had been standing on their hind legs, dropped onto all fours as they surged forward, the smaller, wirier beowolves swiftly outpacing the lumbering ursai and the stumpy creeps; only the scurrying stormvermin could keep up with them, and Ruby wasn't sure if they were trying to. Goliaths made the earth tremble as they jogged forwards as part of the packed mass; the tails of the deathstalkers with their golden stingers waved above the heads of the other grimm like battle banners. Nevermores and griffons sliced through the air, wings beating furiously up and down.

Ruby started firing. She might be the only one who could fire right now, but she didn't see the point in waiting. The grimm were going to come closer, their black stain devouring the landscape, covering up the grass like they were corrupting it, but that was no reason to let them keep coming on undeterred, was it? Especially if Yang didn't want to let them get too close. She squeezed the trigger and was rewarded with a beowolf's head exploding. Sure, it was only a young one, but every dead grimm was a good grimm, right?

If that … Ruby wasn't sure if that made sense.

Never mind. The point was killing grimm was good. She killed another one with another headshot, then a third, then a fourth. She fired and fired, and with every well-aimed and carefully placed shot, another juvenile beowolf lost both head and life, its trunk collapsing to the ground to begin turning to ashes as the rest of the horde trampled it underfoot.

Ruby squeezed the trigger. Crescent Rose clicked. She was out of bullets. Ruby tore her eye away from the scope and reached for the pouches on her belt for another magazine; she had some loose bullets on her belt as well, heavy armour piercing ones, but she was going to save those either until she really needed them or she had no other ammunition left. Magazines were easier and faster to load anyway.

She pulled out the magazine and slammed it into the mag well of Crescent Rose, yanking back hard upon the bolt to chamber her first round.

"Lucky you, having spares," Nora muttered as she fired a grenade from Magnhild. The missile left a pink trail through the night air as it rose, and then fell … fell short, exploding just ahead of the charging grimm. Nora cursed. "I don't have that many of these."

Ruby glanced at her. "You mean it's just those?"

"These grenades are pretty big to carry around," Nora replied apologetically. "And the dust isn't cheap either."

Nevertheless, she fired again, and this time, her grenade did not fall short; the grimm had kept on rushing forward, and so Nora managed to put a grenade behind their front line, exploding in a shower of pink in amongst the older grimm that hung back to let the younger and less experienced bear the brunt of the fire.

That hadn't worked out for them this time, if the grenade had landed where Ruby thought it had.

"Nice work!" Yang cried.

"Just do your best with what you have," Ruby said. "That's all we can do." She looked through the scope again and spotted an ursa moving towards the front of the horde. Like the beowolves, it looked young — it had no armour plates and hardly anything in the way of bone spurs — but it was still bigger and more dangerous than the beowolves. Ruby fired. Her first shot hit in the head but didn't penetrate the skull; the ursa faltered, shaking its head from side to side.

There was a crack in its bleached bone.

Ruby took careful aim, waiting for the ursa to start running again.

The grimm looked straight ahead as it bounded forwards once more.

Ruby fired, and her second shot shattered the bone mask and the ursa's head along with it. The body stumbled forwards to the ground and was covered up beneath the grimm tide like rocks on the beach being covered up by the rising water.

"Might be nice if some of those cannons would start firing right about now," Nora said.

There was a boom like thunder from behind them, and a shell arced over their heads to burst in a flash amongst the grimm.

Nora gasped. "I've got a magic voice!"

Ruby grinned. "Maybe you should ask for them to fire faster," she suggested as she shot another beowolf dead, then shot a stormvermin through the stomach for a bit of variety. It was true that the Valish artillery was beginning to fire, shells passing overhead, but it seemed not enough to her; they were firing too slowly, there were too big gaps between the shells, and they were firing almost randomly, not together, just every gun firing for itself when it could. What were they aiming at? The grimm, obviously, but which part of the horde? The front, the middle, the back? Did it matter? Maybe not, if killing grimm was all that mattered, and it was true that Nora had managed to hit the ones in the middle herself, but … it just seemed a little disorganised.

The fact that one shell actually landed behind them, showering Ruby's hair and cape with dirt as it exploded in a fountain of earth, sending a wave of heat that passed over Ruby and made her neck tingle, didn't make them seem any less disorganised.

Then the tanks started to fire, first one, then another, then the whole line of them opening up, guns roaring so loudly that Ruby half wanted to let go of Crescent Rose and cover her ears. She didn't, she kept on shooting until she'd exhausted another magazine, then reloaded, then started shooting again, but as the shells of the tanks shrieked overhead, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd be able to hear okay after this.

Hopefully, her aura would repair her eardrums.

Yang shouted something, but Ruby didn't catch a word of it; she couldn't have even begun to understand what her sister was trying to say. The tanks behind had muffled all other sounds.

But though shells from tanks and cannons burst amongst them, the grimm kept on charging. They weren't thinning their numbers fast enough, not even though other huntsmen besides Ruby and Nora were firing too; Ruby could glance down the line and see Coco from Team CFVY firing her rotary machine gun, and more fire coming from other teams that were too far away for her to make out. To the left, it looked like the Atlesians were supporting the Valish flank, missiles raining down from one of their cruisers onto grimm that were headed towards the Valish, not the Atlesian line.

It wasn't enough. There were still immature beowolves at the front, all black and little bone; they hadn't even winnowed them away yet.

And the flying grimm descended on them. Coco Adel raised her rotary machine gun and tore one nevermore apart with a stream of deadly fire, but other grimm, the nevermores and the griffons and the big teryxes that were supposed to be rare but didn't look it right now, they all dropped out of the sky down onto the Valish and the huntsmen.

Some of them fell upon the troops themselves, ignoring the panicked rifle fire of the Valish soldiers as nevermores scooped up one or two men — or even whole handfuls for the biggest, oldest nevermores — picking up the screaming, writhing, wriggling men and carrying them off away into the night.

Some of them ignored the soldiers and dived down on the tanks behind the line. Ruby raised her eyes from her scope and turned to watch as a teryx grabbed an Archer by the long barrel of its gun, physically lifting the tank up off the ground — a soldier emerged out of the turret to fire the machine gun into the grimm's belly, but the teryx didn't seem to feel a thing — and haul it over the Valish line before throwing it through the air to land with a crash and a smash and metal thrown everywhere amongst the charging grimm. It must have crushed some, hurt or killed others with the debris that flew in all directions, but the remaining grimm didn't seem to care as they swarmed over the wreckage.

Ruby was glad that they covered the tank from view; she didn't really want to see what they did next.

She found herself hoping that the crew had died in the drop.

Few grimm were large enough to do what the teryx had done, but a nevermore was able to flip a Cataphract up onto its back like a turtle, treads spinning futilely in the air as the crew scrambled out the hull hatch. Two griffons landed on the top of another tank and started trying to claw their way through the turret.

Yang leapt to the tank's defence, bellowing furiously as she ran across the grass, throwing punches at the air and firing her Ember Celica in the process, shot after shot flying from her gauntlets to strike one of the griffons in the flank. The grimm turned, shrieking, only for Yang to leap off the ground onto the hull of the tank and punch it square in the face. The griffon's head was snapped sideways as Yang shot the other with her free hand. Ren was firing now, firing at the two griffons, his Stormflowers crackling as the barrels blazed green. The first griffon, the one who'd got punched, lunged at Yang, beak open, but Yang swayed aside, somehow managing not to fall off the tank as she did so, and grabbed it with both hands by the neck as it beak closed on the air.

Now, Yang leapt off the tank, slamming the griffon down head first onto the ground and punching it in the throat with a blast from Ember Celica for good measure.

The second griffon leapt on top of her as the first one died, driving Yang down to the ground, face down. Ren ran to her, still firing, jumping onto the griffon's back like it was a horse, slashing at its neck with the blades attached to his guns.

He leapt off again as the griffon fell down dead, collapsing onto its side.

Ren rolled to his feet and offered Yang a hand up.

She didn't take it, but she did say, "Thanks," as she got up.

And some more of the flying grimm ignored the tanks the same way as those that were attacking the tanks had ignored the soldiers, swooping past the armoured vehicles into the night beyond.

The guns, Ruby realised. They're going for the guns.

Sure enough, the fire from the artillery behind began to falter, becoming even more sporadic than it had been before.

Now, Ruby understood why the Atlesians were always banging on about their air power; if the Valish had had airships — or if they hadn't thrown them away at the whim of an Equestrian creature — then none of this would be happening.

And the grimm, the main body of the grimm, all those beowolves and ursai and all the rest, they kept on coming.

Ruby returned her attention to her scope and shot another beowolf down dead. "Come on, fire!" she shouted. "We need to shoot them!"

Some of the soldiers did begin to fire, their boxy rifles with the square barrels barking, bullets flying into the grimm, but the grimm kept coming.

Their red eyes seemed to gleam brighter with anticipation.

"Oh, sod this!" Sergeant Robbins cried, a moaning wail as he threw down his gun and turned away, and ran away, trampling the grass beneath his boots.

"Hey!" Ruby cried. "Come back!”

But he wasn't the only one running; right where they were, it was as if his departure had been the crack that brought down the dam, all of the Valish soldiers retreating, some backing away a few steps, most of them just doing as Sergeant Robbins had done and running off back in the direction of Vale, running from the grimm with their teeth and claws, running from the nevermores who swooped down from above, running from the danger that was storming towards them.

And not just the soldiers near them; Ruby could look up and down the line and see soldiers everywhere, first small groups and then in whole streams, scrambling down off the fragments of wall, throwing their guns away or just abandoning them along with their positions, flooding away from the Green Line in a headlong rush towards the Red.

Ruby … Ruby could understand it. For the Valish Defence Force, tonight had been one shock after another, she supposed. Sergeant Robbins had told them as much, starting with the orders to fight the Atlesians, then the fact that their commander had been taken away in a straitjacket and there was a new commander, shock and surprise and confusion and now … now this. Not to mention the fact that, as a huntress, as someone with aura and training and a custom weapon, you could sometimes forget how scary the grimm were to people who didn't have all those things. What was just a beowolf to be brought down for Ruby was a terrifying monster to Sergeant Robbins, something out of his nightmares.

They were scared, just like Sunset had been scared, just like Amber was scared, and as they were scared, it was hard to blame them.

Didn't mean Ruby had to love it, though.

"Come back!" Ruby shouted. "If you run away, they'll just pursue you! Vale is counting on us! We need to hold them off as long as we can!"

Her words didn't seem to have much, or any, effect. They were too frightened, too confused, too shattered, too broken. They didn't have it in them to stand and fight, only to run. Or to drive away, in some cases, as tanks began to reverse backwards, or slew around and drive off, engines grumbling and sputtering and growling as they made the best speed they could — which wasn't very fast; that would be why some crews abandoned their tanks, leaping out of hatches on the hull and the turret and taking to their heels instead of trusting their tracks. But while they were doing that, some of the soldiers were trusting wheels over feet, hurling themselves into trucks or armoured cars and trying to drive away, with even more soldiers clinging to the outside of the vehicles rather than be left behind.

"What about your families?" Ruby demanded. "Don't you want to protect them?"

Even that failed to move them; it seemed they would rather return to their families than fight for them.

Nevermores swooped down from above on the fleeing soldiers. Ruby shot one, twice, which wasn't enough to kill it but did make it wheel away from its intended victim; other Valish soldiers weren't so lucky, plucked off the ground in the nevermore claws and carried off into the darkness. Trucks were torn into, armoured cars were thrown aside like toys, but it still wasn't enough to make the Valish soldiers fight. They still kept on running.

Fear had undone them all.

"We need to fall back," Yang said. "Nora, you and I will be the rearguard, Ren and Ruby will be behind us and provide covering—"

"No, we can't retreat now," Ruby declared.

"We can't hold this line by ourselves," Yang said. "Without the soldiers—"

"If we retreat now, the grimm will catch the soldiers; they'll be massacred!" Ruby cried. "We have to buy them time."

"Buy them time to run away?" Nora asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Ruby cried. "Because even if they're cowards, we're not, and we have to fight for them regardless."

Yang looked left and right. "Ruby…" She took a deep breath. "They get a one minute head start on us, then we're falling back; steadily, but we're falling back, fighting as we go until we meet up with the Mistralians coming the other way. Understood?"

Ruby nodded. That was fine by her. A minute didn't seem like much, but it was amazing how much ground you could cover in a minute when your adrenaline was pumping, even without a semblance.

Yang nodded too. She pumped both her fists, audibly cocking Ember Celica. "Then let's do this."

They stepped up to the line of sandbags that ran between two sections of the wall.

The grimm charged at them, a black wave topped with bony, red-eyed foam, claws out and teeth bared.

All four members of Team YRRN opened fire. Flames leapt from Ember Celica, Crescent Rose snapped and snarled, Stormflowers crackled, grenades like pink-tailed comets leapt from Magnhild to explode in clouds amongst the grimm.

One pink elephant, two pink elephant…

The grimm fell before them, a crescent of death appearing in the ranks of the hordes as gunfire and explosions swallowed up the grimm in front of them.

Ten pink elephant, eleven pink elephant.

Grimm charged in from the flanks of the crescent, but not flanking them, coming in front, just from the sides a little bit while those that were just rushing straight ahead faltered and slowed down. Ruby and the others switched their focus, Yang and Ruby firing to the right, Nora and Ren to the left.

Twenty-one pink elephant, twenty-two pink elephant.

"I'm out of grenades!" Nora cried, switching Manghild into its hammer mode.

Yang held up an arm, allowing a stream of spent cartridges to flow out of Ember Celica to fall down at her feet. "Ruby, how are you fixed for ammunition?"

Ruby slammed a fresh magazine into Crescent Rose and charged the bolt, chambering a new round. "I'm getting through it," she admitted as she shot another beowolf. They were getting to some of the larger ones now, the older ones with more bone on them; whether that was just where they were or the grimm were being thinned out all over, Ruby couldn't tell.

Not to mention that 'thin' was a very … what was the word, relative, yeah, it was a pretty relative term when it came to these grimm hordes. They might have killed all the little ones, but there were still tons and tons and tons of them behind.

Thirty-five pink elephant, thirty-six pink elephant.

It would be really good if I could use my silver eyes right now.

Then I'd be asleep for the rest of the battle, probably, but I've already slept through the start; what's sleeping through the end?

Thirty-nine pink elephant, forty pink elephant.

A beowolf came at them from behind, snapping and snarling. Yang killed it with a single punch, but it wasn't a good sign.

"We can't stay here; the time we've given them will have to be good enough," she declared. "Everyone back up, now!"

Ruby obeyed. She didn't argue, she didn't question, now wasn't the time for that. They didn't have time for that.

They backed away, slowly at first, as slow as they could without being surrounded anyway, still shooting at the grimm as they backed off — well, three of them shooting at the grimm; Nora was left to wait for them to get closer, even though they didn't actually want that to happen.

The grimm were slowed by the barbed wire; some of them leapt over it or climbed over the sections of wall, but others were mired in the wire or had to spend time tearing it apart, trying to slice the fine wire with their claws.

Or they could just trample over it, like the big ursa major which forced its way to the front, trampling down who knew how many grimm to get there, and proceeded to trample the wire too, crushing it beneath its feet.

It strode over the remains of the wire, and the rest of the grimm followed, knocking down the sandbags, spreading sand across the ground, stamping it into the grass.

Ruby shot the big ursa, then fired again, neither shot seeming to injure the giant grimm. Bone spines as big as Crescent Rose unfurled jutted out of its back, and its paws were about the size of all Yang's hair.

The ursa major strode forwards, and the grimm followed behind it.

Team YRRN backed away, their speed increasing a little.

Ruby ejected her latest spent magazine. She hauled the bolt back, exposing the chamber, and plucked one of the special long silver rounds from out of the bandolier slung across her waist.

She chambered it, snapping the bolt back into place.

She stopped moving, taking careful aim at the ursa major as it advanced, its huge paws swaying from side to side as it strode towards them.

Ruby's finger tightened on the trigger. She fired. The ursa major recoiled, head reeling backwards, its whole body swaying as though it might topple over onto its spiky back.

It didn't. The ursa righted itself, staying upright, rubbing its head with one paw.

Ruby reloaded, chambering a second of her special rounds. This ursa had a tough head; she would have thought one of these armour piercing bullets would be enough for sure.

The ursa roared, mouth opening gaping wide.

Ruby fired again, putting the bullet into the ursa's roaring mouth to blow clean through and out the back of its head. Now,the ursa tumbled backwards, landing on the ground with a crash like a falling tree.

"Nice work, Ruby," Yang said, throwing out shadow punches to fire Ember Celica in a stream of fire out at the grimm.

The grimm flowed around the decaying body of the ursa major, some of them heading straight forwards, others trying to get around and behind Team YRRN. Some eager beowolves darted close indeed, close enough for Nora to catch them with swings of her hammer, or Ruby to get them with her scythe. Others were more circumspect, waiting, enduring the fire from Yang and Ren and Ruby, waiting for the right moment to arrive.

The four of them quickened the pace of their retreat — they had little choice, with the grimm flowing around them — trying to stay not only ahead of their pursuers but also ahead of those seeking to cut them off.

It didn't work. The grimm moved faster than they could retreat, and while they were able to hold them at bay in front of them — at a cost to their diminishing store of ammunition — there was nobody to stop the grimm from flowing around the flanks of Team YRRN and closing the ring of black and bone around them.

There was nowhere they could go without a fight and no direction they could fight without exposing themselves to attack from all other directions.

They stood back to back, shoulder to shoulder, waiting. Yang's fists were raised, Nora's hammer was drawn back, Stormflowers and Crescent Rose were pointed at the enemy. The beowolves, the ursai, the stormvermin gathered around them, bony faces with red marking and gleaming red eyes all turned to them, staring at them. Other grimm moved around them, heading away from Team YRRN, continuing towards the Mistralians, towards Vale. Only some of them stayed, surrounding the four huntsmen.

Ruby wondered what they were waiting for, why they didn't just attack, bury them, get it over with.

Maybe … maybe they knew the first to attack would die and so none of them wanted to be the first to step forwards.

That would be … kind of funny, if it was true.

Funny, but not able to last forever. Already, the grimm were rocking back and forth, back and forth on their legs, tensing themselves, ready to sleep.

A beowolf in front of her coiled back.

A green beam, an immense beam of laser fire burst through the ranks of the grimm, turning whole rows of the monsters, beowolves and ursai and stormvermin, all of them to ashes in an instant. Grimm yelped in surprise, heads turning westwards.

West to where Penny stood, her carbines grouped around her, tips glowing like the embers of a dying fire.

"For the honour of Mistral!" came the cry from out of the dark. "For the pride of Haven!"

"For Mistral!" came the shout torn from dozens of throats as Pyrrha and Jaune and Arslan and all the swords and fists and guns of Mistral charged out of the night and slammed like a closed and armoured fist hard into the masses of the grimm.

Author's Note

So, having used last chapter to showcase how the Atlesian military works at its best, with all the elements clicking together, this chapter shows how the Valish... kind of suck, and while a lot of their issues are down to a lamentable lack of air support, even without that they'd still be struggling against some poor command and control. However, some of that is clearly Sonata's fault, and allowances ought to be made for that, things like that are bound to kill the mood a little.

The Bandit Path (New)

The Bandit Path

The doors of the Skyray were closed, and since she wasn’t in the cockpit, Pyrrha had little way of knowing how close they were to their destination of the Mistralian camp.

Not that it particularly mattered, she supposed; they would get there, as they said, when they got there.

But in the meantime, there was nothing but the waiting.

And, for at least some of her companions, the brooding.

The diminished and re-sorted Team SAPR — herself, Jaune, and Penny — were not the only occupants in the Skyray; Team ABRN had joined them in the airship. They, too, were diminished in number: Nadir Shiko had been wounded and taken to one of the Atlesian medical frigates to receive treatment. How much that would limit the effectiveness of Team ABRN was … for Arslan to say, not Pyrrha.

In any case, Pyrrha’s attention was more upon her own teammates than on Arslan’s. Jaune was sat down, eyes closed, the back of his head resting against the interior of the airship’s fuselage. She might have thought that he was asleep, if it wasn’t for the way that he was gripping so tightly the red sash that he wore around his waist.

Penny was standing, like Pyrrha, in the middle of the airship; unlike Pyrrha, she wasn’t holding onto any of the ceiling straps, managing to stand straight without the assistance. She wasn’t looking at Pyrrha, or at anyone else for that matter, her head bowed and one hand wrapped around her other wrist while her free hand fussed with her skirt, fingertips brushing against the fabric.

Pyrrha couldn’t pretend that she could not understand the cause of Penny’s anguish — or, if 'anguish' seemed too strong a word, then displeasure to say the least. While for herself, she could understand why Ruby would want to sever ties, and bore her no ill will for the doing so, Penny — and Jaune too, for that matter — were more blameless. And being blameless, was it any wonder that Penny would take it harder than Pyrrha herself? Was it any wonder that she should be subdued?

Pyrrha could wish Ruby luck, accepting that she had been in part the cause of this and hoping that Ruby could find more satisfaction and happiness with Team YRN than she had with them; she stood by her words and deeds, even though she regretted that they had made Ruby so unhappy, that hadn’t been her intent. She could only hope that things worked out better for her hereafter. But for Penny, and for Jaune too, perhaps, it was bound to be different.

I should think myself lucky that they do not blame me for Ruby’s departure, Pyrrha thought. If they did, I would be hard pressed to argue against it.

“Well, you three seem bluer than a nose on midwinter’s night,” Arslan muttered as she held onto one of the straps on the ceiling. “You want to gather round the bonfire with some spiced wine?” She grinned.

Pyrrha glanced at her, her eyebrows rising slightly; neither Jaune nor Penny reacted at all.

Arslan rolled her olive-coloured eyes. “Oh, for gods’ sake,” she said, her voice rising. “This is a fine thing, isn’t it, to go into battle with the Vytal Champion, and she’s so gloomy you’d think we were going to our deaths and not to glory? Cheer up! Or at least … you’re supposed to be setting an example here, in courage and resolve.” Arslan sniffed. “Obviously, I don’t need you to model heroism for me, but Bolin does.”

Bolin’s eyes bulged as he let out a wordless sputtering cough.

“And Reese isn’t even a Mistralian, so she’s got no idea how to behave, and you’re putting all the wrong ideas in her head,” Arslan went on. “So come on, buck up and set an example for my poor teammates.”

“Thanks, Arslan,” Reese muttered. “You’re so considerate.”

Arslan smiled close-mouthed for a second, before she who had just bidden Pyrrha to cheer up relaxed her mouth back into a neutral look that verged upon a scowl. “I could breathe on you, if that would help?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I don’t think it would. Please, Arslan, will you not let this lie?”

“I’m not sure if I should,” Arslan replied. “I wasn’t joking, you know. Not entirely, anyway. You’re the Vytal Champion now, P-money, laurels or no; that confers certain … obligations on you.”

“I can imagine,” Pyrrha sighed. “Are they different to the obligations laid on me as the Champion of Mistral?”

“I don’t know; we never went into battle like this when you were Champion of Mistral,” Arslan said. “And if you can imagine what the obligations are, perhaps you should make an effort to live up to them. Seriously, what are people going to think when we land and you step out of the airship looking like that?” She gestured at Pyrrha, who was left to rather imagine the expression on her face in consequence.

“What would you have me do?” Pyrrha asked. “Bound from the airship with a sunny beam upon my face?”

Arslan snorted. “You don’t have to go that far, but you could at least look confident.”

“You don’t understand,” said Jaune, a little testily, as he opened his eyes.

“Oh, don’t I?” demanded Arslan. “So I didn’t see Ruby getting onto another airship with Team Iron, after she wasn’t up in the arena today to watch Pyrrha in the finals?”

Penny looked up.

“That’s right, I’ve got eyes,” Arslan said. “Now maybe you’re right, I don’t know what’s going on between you and her, but … have you considered that you might be better off? I mean, I never—”

“Ruby’s statue hasn’t been pulled down for you to spit on it,” Pyrrha said, softly but firmly, before Arslan could say ‘I never liked her.’ It might be true — the one time that Pyrrha could recall them interacting they had butted heads — but that didn’t mean it would be helpful to hear it at the moment.

Indeed, true or not, in the circumstances, it could sound awfully opportunistic.

Arslan held up one hand. “Alright, fair enough.” She paused. “But something has happened, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha whispered. “Yes, it has.”

“Was it my fault?” asked Penny.

Pyrrha looked around, Arslan almost forgotten as her sudden movement tossed her ponytail across her shoulder. “What? No, Penny, of course it wasn’t your fault.”

Penny looked up at her. “But I was the one who suggested that—”

“I think that this was something a lot longer in the germination than a single conversation tonight,” Pyrrha said gently.

Jaune nodded. “I think Pyrrha’s right,” he said. “If Ruby had … if she hadn’t already accepted it, then she wouldn’t have been so … accepting, if that makes sense. She didn’t argue, she just … I think she’d already made up her mind.”

“Already?” Penny repeated. “When?”

“Only Ruby could tell us that,” Jaune said. “If she wanted to.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Penny murmured. “But all the same, so soon after … it doesn’t make sense.”

“Ruby was on her own, or just with … Amber and Dove,” Jaune said. “Who knows what she decided, before…”

Penny nodded. “I … so you really think that it wasn’t what I said? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No,” said Jaune. “No, I don’t think this had anything to do with you. You’ve always been a good friend to Ruby, and I’m sure that she remembers.”

“But she felt the desire to walk her own path,” Pyrrha said. “Just as you did.”

“Oh,” Penny murmured. “Oh, I see. Yes, that … that makes sense.” She glanced away for a second. “In that case, I hope that she finds what she was looking for, even if I’m not a part of it. Do you think that she’ll join Team Iron permanently? I mean, there is a spot open, now that Blake is going to Atlas.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha said. “Only Professor Ozpin can say for certain, but it would be perhaps the most elegant solution.”

“Where else would she go?” asked Jaune. “I think that will be it, it’s hard to imagine anything else; I mean, she can’t join Team Bluebell, can she?”

No, Pyrrha thought. No, indeed not. She wondered if Arslan or either of her teammates were listening and perhaps wondered exactly why Ruby couldn’t join Team BLBL, but if they cared at all — and why would they? — they probably thought that there were personal reasons that they, as outsiders, were not privy to. Certainly, no one could think anything suspicious of what the three members of Team SAPR were not saying to one another; they were simply the details that friends would omit, knowing they were commonly understood by all concerned.

At least, Pyrrha hoped that was how it seemed.

“There are other teams,” Penny pointed out. “I think. Aren’t there?”

Jaune paused. “Now that you mention it, I … think so? I can’t remember any of their names, though. Pyrrha?”

“Um…” Pyrrha thought about it for a moment. “Team Draper is a name, I’m sure, led by a Jack Darby.”

“Who?” asked Penny.

“Yes, I think he’s rather quiet,” said Pyrrha.

“Well, anyway, wherever Ruby goes, I’m sure she’ll be happy,” Penny said. “I hope she’ll be happy. And that means that we — that I — don’t have any reason not to be happy either.” She paused. “I don’t want to be like Neon, glaring at Ruby and spitting at her everywhere she goes because she didn’t stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of us. I want to be like Rainbow Dash, and be as happy for Ruby as Rainbow as happy for me.” She smiled. “So, let’s do what Arslan said, because she’s right—”

“Always,” Arslan said.

Penny ignored her. “We need to put a brave face on things for the battle, whether people are looking at us or not.” She reached out and took Pyrrha and Jaune by the shoulders. “I know that things are dangerous right now, and that there are a lot of grimm waiting for us beyond the Green Line. I know that there’s … a lot that could still happen tonight, and a lot that we might have to do. But even if it’s not exactly how we would like, even if all the people that we’d like aren’t here, we can still get through this, together.”

Pyrrha nodded lightly. She took a deep breath, and then another, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling. Penny was right that Arslan was right — there was no point in a grim look, even if she had grim thoughts — and Penny was right moreover that there was little excuse for grim thoughts either. If Ruby was happier where she was, or where she meant to be, than she was with them, then who was Penny to complain about it?

She really was very mature for her age.

Jaune ran one hand through his long blond hair. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re right, Penny, it … there’s no point in … so long as Ruby’s okay, that’s what matters.” He, too, breathed deeply in. “What do you think’s waiting for us out there?”

“A lot of grimm,” Arslan muttered.

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle. “Indeed. More grimm than we have ever seen or, with good fortune, will ever see again.”

“But have they ever seen so many huntsmen and huntresses before, that’s the question?” asked Reese Chloris. “If every huntsman is worth ten, twenty grimm—”

“Thirty, at least,” said Arslan.

“Thirty’s a lot, but okay,” Reese allowed. “My point is, we might actually outnumber them in quality terms.”

“I think even if every one of us was worth fifty of them, they might still outnumber us,” said Jaune.

Reese’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously. There’s … that many of them?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Jaune admitted. “But we are talking about … three hordes or something.”

“'Three'?” Reese repeated, her voice growing higher pitched. “There are three grimm hordes?”

“I told you to put on a brave face, not scare my teammate,” Arslan said acerbically. “Reese. Reese, look at me. Look at me, not those losers.”

Reese’s head moved stiffly, as though her neck had gotten stuck in place like a rusty screw that required great effort to turn.

Arslan leaned towards her. Her cheeks puffed out momentarily as she blew upon Reese’s face.

“Do you want to be a Mistralian?” she asked. “Do you want to stand as tall, be as respected, as Jason or Meleager or Medea of their ancient names?”

Reese nodded.

“Then now is the moment,” Arslan declared. “Now is the time when the eyes of Mistral fall upon us! Yes, the odds may be against us, the situation may be grave or grimmer than the grimm themselves, but if we take heart, if we gird our courage and remember that we are the great hearted Mistralians clad in bronze, taught by Eulalia herself to fight, if we take heart and fight like lions bloody red, then we will be thought of as high as the White Tower itself. All we need do is cut into the heart of this darkness and slay the apex monster who commands them all. Do this, and all of … of Vale will be saved, and we will be honoured throughout Anima as heroes true as any old blood scion. Is that not something grand, something almost beyond hoping, something worth fighting for?”

Reese swallowed. “It is,” she murmured. “It really is.”

“Then let us fight for it!” Arslan cried, letting go of the ceiling strap, wobbling a little in her soft slippers as she took Reese by both hands. “Together, you and I.”

Reese nodded once again, and a little smile began to cross her face. “Together,” she repeated. “You and I.”

“Like lions gold,” Arslan said. She nodded too, and released Reese’s hands to grab at the ceiling strap just in time before she fell over. “And that, Miss Penny, is how you make a speech to put some heart in someone.”

“That was pretty good,” Penny cooed. “Did you learn that in leadership class?”

Bolin snorted.

Arslan ignored him. “I may not be the best leader ever,” she said, “but you don’t need a class to teach you how to be a leader; all you need to do is read the classics. Now, I read them because, as a girl from the lower slopes, I was never going to get anywhere amongst the society of the likes of P-money over there if I couldn’t banter quotes from The Mistraliad around the place, but even apart from that, you can learn a lot from the old stories.”

“Those were the Red Lion’s words to his followers, weren’t they?” Pyrrha asked. “From before the Battle Beneath the Red Sun, when he championed the forces of Mistral against a grimm horde.”

“And why not?” Arslan asked. “I may not be the Champion, but I am the Golden Lion, and that’s not a name I took for nothing.”

“So you’re not really going to try and kill the Apex Alpha?” asked Jaune.

“That depends,” Arslan said. “If the chance arises, I won’t let it slip away.”

Pyrrha supposed that the words Arslan had chosen, the words that Arslan had appropriated, were not inappropriate for the circumstances. Hopefully, this night would end … the Battle Beneath the Red Sun had been won, the Red Lion had slain the Apex Alpha and broken the grimm horde that threatened the city, but the Red Lion himself had died in the process, and many of his companions with him. The red sun had risen and set in a single day upon the Red Lion’s glory. Hopefully, the night would end more fortunately for Arslan and Reese.

Penny frowned. “I didn’t—"

She was interrupted by the sensation of the airship beginning to descend, turning in place as it lowered; one of the side doors opened to reveal the Mistralian camp beneath them, blue tents illuminated by the light of dust lamps burning red like smouldering embers in the darkness, burning away in part the shadow of the great battleship Dingyuan that hung in the sky above the camp. As their Skyray descended, joined by a throng of other Skyrays setting down in the same rough area, the open expanse of grass that lay beyond the tents, Pyrrha could see the Mistralian soldiers in blue uniforms standing in rough groups before their tents, awaiting the arrival of the airships.

They were only new recruits. They could not have been in those blue uniforms very long; this army — if it was large enough to be called an army — did not predate the Breach; it was a hastily created thing, the work of panic and a need to be seen to be doing something. What kind of men and women were they that had joined this army, to what purpose, and had they ever imagined, when they joined, when they put those blue uniforms on, that they would be standing between Vale and more than one horde of grimm?

Did the prospect frighten them?

Pyrrha confessed to herself that it made her somewhat apprehensive; to face a single grimm horde was quite sufficient; to face more than one at once? Who would not feel a slight trembling in their knees at the prospect, however much they might wish to hide it?

As Arslan said, we must seem brave.

And it may be that the Valish Defence Forces will hold their line, and the Mistralians will be left with nothing to do and nothing to boast of come morning.

If not … Mistralian valour, the fabled Mistralian martial prowess, will see us through.

She glanced at Jaune, and Penny, and even at Arslan.

Or we shall see one another through, together. Yes, yes, that is far more likely.

Pyrrha and the others dismounted as soon as the airship was low enough, leaping down alongside the other teams from Beacon and Haven. Polemarch Yeoh was waiting for them once they landed, accompanied by eight lictors, officers of the Council bearing bundles of rods adorned with axes, symbols of the authority — the very power of life and death — conveyed upon the Polemarch. She strode out ahead of her soldiers with her arms outstretched as though she meant to embrace Pyrrha, although she soon realised that, in fact, the Polemarch meant to encompass all the students.

Something for which Pyrrha was quite thankful, even if Polemarch Yeoh did seem to be focussing her attentions upon Pyrrha herself.

“Welcome!” declared Polemarch in a grandiose tone. “Welcome to all the heroes of Mistral! How honoured we are to have this opportunity to fight by your sides!”

“I regret that it must come to such an honour,” Pyrrha replied softly. “I would rather you had the opportunity to depart for home without a shot fired than fight with me, and I am sure that others would say the same.”

I would rather so much more than this. Of all things this, this battle, this peril, this entire night, all that has been and may yet lie before, all is so far from my heart that to say 'I do not wish it' seems insufficient.

I would give my laurels up to Weiss, all my Mistralian triumphs and dedications in the temple unto Arslan, all my vain epithets and enthusiastic onlookers if only some god would descend on a crane and grant me the wish to undo this last day and night.

All that I have won for the chance to be back in the doubles round with Sunset, facing Trixie and Starlight. Let me throw the match and see Trixie crowned as Vytal Champion, or Umber Gorgoneion perhaps, and I will take instead some things truly worth desiring.

I would not encounter Cinder last night, not even to triumph over her. I would have Sunset remain at our side, all truths concealed.

I would go east with Ruby, I would take Amber to Mistral, I would have all things bathed in sunlight.

And I would not have this. I would have anything but this.

“Nay, Lady Pyrrha, nay, this is the work of fate,” said Polemarch Yeoh. “To crown our expedition with the laurels of glory even on this same night when your brow has been crowned with the prize of victory. Glory shall be ours as it has been and even further shall be yours.” She paused a moment, and raised her voice yet higher. “Great ones in Mistral now asleep, or huddled gawping round a TV set, will think themselves accursed they were not here to fight with us this night, upon this Vytal night.”

“If only they were here with us,” Jaune observed, “instead of where they are.”

Polemarch Yeoh looked at him. “It is Jaune Arc, no? I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

“Um, sorry, no,” Jaune agreed, shuffling his feet uncomfortably upon the ground. “No, we haven’t. But yes, yes, I’m Jaune Arc.” He stepped a little closer to Pyrrha, ending up with one arm behind her, as though he sought to hide from Polemarch Yeoh.

Polemarch Yeoh smiled. “Photographs do not do justice to the glossy lushness of your hair,” she observed. “Or to the lustre of your sapphire eyes.” She chuckled. “I think the magazines and newspapers must be editing your pictures to enrage the people that someone plain and unhandsome has won the heart of our Invincible Girl.”

Arslan snorted. Pyrrha rather wished that she wouldn’t, but then she heard Penny giggling ever so slightly as well, though she was at a loss to see what was so funny about it.

Although she had to admit that she had noticed that Jaune didn’t look as cute or handsome in pictures as he did in person, but she had attributed that to the fact that, well, a reproduction could never match the quality of the real thing, nor capture intangibles such as the light in Jaune’s eyes, the brightness of his smile. She had never considered that it might be the result of photo manipulation.

But then, she wasn’t sure how seriously she ought to take Polemarch Yeoh at this present moment.

Jaune’s cheeks flushed a little. “I, um, I don’t know—”

“Do not wish for one man more, nor woman either,” Polemarch Yeoh instructed him. “Not great old Chiron nor Lord Rutulus and his Bloody Fox, nor Lady Terri-Belle of the White Tower and all her Imperial Guard, wish not for any of them. We are enough, have strength enough, valour enough, weapons enough to do great things upon this Vytal night without assistance. We need no help from Vale nor Atlas, nor from Mistralians far off and sound asleep; we are enough, we gallant few. Wish not for aid, to dilute the glory that will be ours come morning; we have no need of it.”

Pyrrha felt foolish for taking so long to realise that Polemarch was not really speaking to her or Jaune or any of the other students but to her soldiers, and upon her soldiers, her words seemed to be working; as she spoke them, the heads of the men and women in blue rose, their backs straightened; some of them even moved into something more like formed up ranks.

If her words give comfort, then who am I to contradict?

“As you say, Polemarch,” she said, bowing her head. “For myself, you do me honour by being honoured by my presence, but I at least am at your service and command.”

“And I, too, ma’am,” Arslan added, bowing also.

“You are the Steward’s voice here, Polemarch, a magistrate of the Mistralian people,” said Violet Valeria. “Give the word.”

“Even I shall obey you,” said Umber Gorgoneion, the sound of whose voice came as surprise to Pyrrha who had expected her to leave with the Beacon students. “On this occasion.”

Polemarch Yeoh clasped her hands behind her back. “Last night, General Ironwood asked me to be ready to move should the Valish abandon their position. He hoped that, if the Valish should falter, I and my forces could occupy the position and secure his flank. Meanwhile, General Blackthorn took great pains to assure me that my forces would not be needed tonight and that we should take our ease upon the ground like so many picnickers. They say now that he is mad, poor fellow, but Colonel Sky Beak has asked me to withdraw behind the Red Line and reinforce his troops there,” she said. “I will not do that, but as I told General Ironwood, we will wait here, as a reserve, in case the Valish should abandon their position in front of us.”

Pyrrha raised her head. “That is all very well, Polemarch, but … could we not move closer to their line in case we are needed? At the moment … are we not far away?”

“And what would moving closer to the Valish line avail us, Lady Pyrrha?” asked Polemarch Yeoh. “If the Valish are taxed and require help, then they know where to find me here at my camp.”

“But what if they ask for help, but then the grimm break through before you get there because you’re too far away?” asked Penny tentatively.

“I told General Ironwood that I would move forward, and I will,” said Polemarch Yeoh. “I did not guarantee him that I would get there before the grimm, and he can have no cause to complain that I did not. Nothing is certain in battle.”

“The Valish might have some cause to complain,” Jaune pointed out, though Polemarch Yeoh did not choose to answer him.

Penny said, “But don’t we stand a better chance trying to hold the grimm back on the defensive line, instead of somewhere behind it in these fields?”

Polemarch glanced at her. “You are … Penny Polendina, isn’t it? An Atlas student?”

“I’m transferring to Beacon next year,” Penny said defensively. “And I’m fighting with Team Sapphire.”

If Polemarch Yeoh found that surprising, she did not let on. “Huntsmen and huntresses,” she went on, “are not a Mistralian creation, and yet, they exemplify a Mistralian way of fighting, a way that is sometimes thought of as the only Mistralian way: to face your enemy head on, not only head on but head high also, to meet them openly with a brave heart and a willingness to endure all perils. That is a Mistralian way, old and honoured and celebrated in our greatest works of poetry. But it is not the only Mistralian way; there is another: the bandit’s way, the brigand’s way, the way of those who survived in the face of great power determined to destroy them. The way in which I have trained my soldiers. I must confess to you all I have my doubts that the Valish can withstand a grimm attack of great magnitude.

“Your Atlesians, Miss Polendina, may hold their ground; in fact, I would wager money that they will, because that is the battle for which they are well-equipped: to meet the grimm muzzle to muzzle, with all their panoply of war bent to support them. I have fought alongside Atlesians, I have been saved by Atlesians, and I have witnessed how they fight, with their airships, their spider droids, their fire support. An impressive sight, a terrible sight when one considers what it would be like to be subjected to such … and all of it necessary to fight as they do. To try and fight as they do, equipped as the Valish are, still less as we are, without airships, without droids and artillery, missiles … I fear it is a folly, and I will not throw my command away attempting to imitate Atlesian tactics without Atlesian tools.

“If the Valish request my help, then I will move forward, as I told General Ironwood that I would, but I will have you huntsmen and huntresses move forwards as a vanguard, in advance of my own troops. If you reach the Valish line and find that it is still holding, then send a swift runner back to me, and I will bring up the main body. If, on the other hand, you reach the Valish line, or reach the Valish forces having been driven from their line, then send a runner back to me and then fall back yourselves, to where I will have set an ambush capable of catching the grimm in a deadly crossfire. That is the battle I would prefer to fight, the bandit battle, a battle that will favour light forces bereft of heavy equipment. Yes, if the Valish were to break before I reached them, that would suit me better.”

“As Jaune said, Polemarch, it might suit the Valish less,” Pyrrha declared, thinking that the Polemarch would answer her even if she would not answer Jaune. “Far be it from me to question the plans of a magistrate of the Council, but the Valish, our own classmates amongst them, will they not be overrun?”

“Not if you run swiftly to their rescue, Lady Pyrrha,” Polemarch Yeoh replied, without any sense of offence in her voice at having been so questioned. “I do not ask you to abandon your fellow students; I do not even say that the Valish must break, only that it would suit me better if they did. And if your classmates are wise, if the Valish officers are wise, they will realise that their position is untenable and begin to retreat in such good order as they can manage.” She paused, looking Pyrrha in the eye. “Are your classmates wise, Lady Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha thought about it. It was … difficult to imagine Ruby retreating, but not impossible, not in the right circumstances. “I hope so,” she said softly.

“If they are not, then you must run swift and run to their rescue,” Polemarch Yeoh declared. “I have no doubt that you gallant young huntsmen and huntresses can make it in time.”

How nice of you, Polemarch, to turn my misgivings back upon my own shoulders, Pyrrha thought.

Pyrrha was silent. Polemarch Yeoh’s plan was not what she had expected to hear from the woman who had been chosen by the Council to command Mistral’s fledgling forces — as Polemarch Yeoh herself had said, it was not the traditional Mistralian way of war — but that did not make it an invalid stratagem. It was not expected, it was not traditionally Mistralian — Polemarch Yeoh’s comments on bandits and brigands sounded more like an attempt to coat innovation in the protective armour of orthodoxy than anything else — but the traditionally Mistralian way of war, ancient and august, sung of by the poets of the past, famed in statue and story, had failed in the Great War and died the death at the Battle of Four Sovereigns. These were not the old days. The world had moved on, and perhaps the tactics of the Mistralians must move also.

To ambush the grimm … it was not something a huntsman would have considered, but then, these were not huntsmen; they were neither trained nor equipped to face the grimm in open battle. If Polemarch Yeoh thought that she could pull this off, then there was no reason not to play their part in it — unless one felt that it was somehow immoral not to rush immediately to the aid of the Valish at the fastest speed.

We will be doing that, if called upon; the fact that Polemarch Yeoh will be following on behind more slowly is … some might call it prudent, to send a vanguard in advance of the main force, as was often done with the armies of the past.

Should I rate and rebuke her for a degree of caution?

We will be rushing forward, if we are asked for our help; that being so, why should I complain that Polemarch does not move so swiftly?

Because we may be too late, and all lost before we arrive? If the Valish, blinded by their pride, do not request help in time, then Ruby—

Ruby would rage at this, to be thought in need of rescue by us, to be thought incapable of holding the line alongside Team YRN, to have us rush to her aid before she has even asked for aid.

She would not wish us to come before we are called.

And Yang, Nora, and many other great-hearted Beacon students are there, even if the Valish soldiers are without airships to protect them; they will not be destroyed in mere moments. We must have faith in them.

I must have faith in them.

The faith I did not demonstrate before.

And they are wise, and if they need aid, they will send for it in time.

And we will run swift, as Polemarch Yeoh has put it.

All that being the case, there is no further reason to object. It seems to me, young though I am, and inexperienced, that the Polemarch’s plan is as sound as any.

Not that she said so. She might be the Vytal Champion, but as she was not a Haven student, it was hardly her place to speak for the others.

Although Arslan was looking at her as though it was.

She even gestured forward with one hand, indicating for her to go ahead.

You might as well speak as I, Pyrrha thought. You are the Golden Lion, after all, and a Haven team leader.

Pyrrha looked over Arslan’s head, across the other students. None of them said anything: Violet Valeria, who had led the defence of the fairgrounds; Cicero Ward the Younger, son of a Councillor; Haven students and team leaders were silent, and some of them were openly looking at her.

At last, after some uncomfortable moments had passed, someone spoke; that someone was Umber Gorgoneion, as she pushed her sunglasses a short way back up her nose. “A sound plan. If it works, it may become a model for situations such as these. Eminently feasible for us, if your forces can play their part.”

“But wait a second,” Sun said, finding his voice. “If the grimm break through the Valish line, and we fall back, and you set an ambush … General Ironwood’s forces will have no one protecting their flank, right?”

“That is correct,” Polemarch Yeoh admitted. “But I never promised General Ironwood that I would retake any position taken by the grimm, nor do I believe he would expect me to do so, for it cannot be done, certainly not by my forces and perhaps not even by his. General Ironwood will have to manage the situation as best he can; as one of the great captains, I have no doubt he will make do.”

“But…” Sun began. “But if they … there must be a better way than this?”

“I will do the best I can,” Polemarch Yeoh replied evenly. “But the best I can do is not to charge headlong into a mass of grimm like Lady Aetolis on the field of Four Sovereigns. A sacrifice of my command would avail Atlas nothing.”

Sun was silent for a moment. All the huntsmen and huntresses were silent. Sun’s jaw tightened, and his tail drooped down to the ground between his legs.

Without another word, he turned away and began to stalk off.

“Where are you going?” asked Sun’s blue-haired teammate.

“Where do you think he’s going?” muttered another member of Team SSSN, a young man with red hair and a red jacket slung across one shoulder. “He’s going to find his girlfriend. He’s so whipped I’m surprised he could stay away this long.”

“Why do you have to be like this, dude?” asked the blue-haired boy.

“Why are you defending him after everything that he’s—?”

“Enough!” Polemarch Yeoh declared, firmly but not angrily. “I understand that you are young, and in your youth are eager for the fray, but I have seen war, and I have seen the grimm, and I tell you with the voice of experience that I do not believe the Valish can hold their line. Yet even then, I will not abandon them, though I hope to arrive too late for the sake of my own soldiers. I walk the line between honour and wisdom, though it is a narrow path. I do what I have promised, and no more than any reasonable soldier would demand of me.” She paused. “Though I am a magistrate of the Mistralian people, empowered by them, I have no authority over you. If you wish to depart, I have no right to stop you, nor will I try.

“Nevertheless, I ask you, the pride of Mistral, the hope and blooming roses of our state, to trust me. Trust in my experience, and in my goodwill towards my soldier, my kingdom, and to you — and to our allies also. I do not seek to betray Atlas or Vale; rather, I seek to play my part in the defence of Vale in the manner that will defend Vale and not merely give the grimm a few more corpses to chew upon before they rush onwards to the city walls.

“If the Valish do falter, as I believe they must, then we will be all that stands on this side of the field between the grimm and the city. So ask yourselves, what is in the better interests of Vale: that we should die well or that we should fight wisely?”

No one, not even from Team SSSN, made any move to follow Sun away.

Arslan cleared her throat. “Polemarch, this all sounds fine to me, except … maybe I’m just being ignorant of war, but how are you going to hide that for an ambush?” She pointed upwards towards the Dingyuan.

Polemarch Yeoh glanced upwards herself, as if she needed to be reminded that her ship was there.

“My hope,” she said, “is that the grimm will not take the presence of the airship as a necessary indicator of ground forces below; I hope instead that they will think us incompetent, inexperienced, unable to properly coordinate the deployment of air and ground assets. Of course, when our ambush reveals itself, the Dingyuan will add its fire to that of the infantry.”

“And,” Pyrrha said, “until the Valish request our assistance, what then?”

“Then nothing, Lady Pyrrha,” Polemarch Yeoh said. “Nothing but the waiting.”

The waiting was … it had to be admitted that the waiting would not be the hardest part unless the Valish managed to repel the grimm attack with ease and the Mistralians were left with nothing to do for the rest of the need, and perhaps not even then — even if the Mistralians were left with nothing to do, there might still be a need to go to Professor Ozpin’s aid in dealing with Amber — but that did not make the waiting easy.

Pyrrha fussed with the vambrace on her left arm, adjusting it by minute degrees, gripping it and ungripping it, shifting her brown-gloved hand over it, tracing the arrow stamped upon it.

She looked up from the bronze vambrace, looking around to see how others were dealing with the waiting. Arslan was doing push-ups on the grass, hands pressed down into the dirt, while Reese Chloris counted for her; Bolin Hori paced up and down, twirling his staff in his hands; Sun’s blue- and red-haired teammates were not speaking to one another, while their tall, green-haired companion went back and forth between the two carrying messages; young Cicero Ward was writing a letter, using the back of one of his teammates as a rest; Umber was speaking to someone who … Pyrrha thought they might be another Shade student, but not a member of Team UMBR.

Perhaps there were more Shade students here than she’d thought; evidently, there were; she appeared to have maligned them.

Although it did confuse her a little why they should be here with the Mistralians; there seemed no reason for them to stay.

Mind you, there was no reason for them to go forward with the Beacon students to the Valish line either, save that it was where the battle would be fought.

“It’s quiet,” Jaune observed.

“Hmm?” Pyrrha asked, looking at him. “I’m sorry, I was—”

“Thinking?” Jaune guessed.

“More looking than thinking,” Pyrrha admitted. “What did you say?”

“I said 'it’s quiet,'” Jaune repeated.

Pyrrha listened. It was indeed. Aside from the occasional hooting of an owl and the sounds coming from they themselves — and from the Mistralian soldiers as they, too, waited, half-formed in their companies, but not waiting silently in ranks like automatons — there was little to hear.

“Yes,” Penny said, and she seemed to be moved to keep quiet by the quietness of the world around them. “Yes, it is.”

“No sounds of fighting,” Jaune explained. “I mean, if the grimm were attacking, then don’t you think we’d hear them fighting back? We’d certainly hear the Atlesians, right? All those missiles, and whatever else they’ve got, and maybe we’d hear the Valish too. Not gunfire maybe, but cannons. But it’s quiet. So it hasn’t started yet.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it … it cannot have begun yet.”

“So everything is fine,” Penny said. “Or everyone is still fine, anyway. We don’t need to…”

Pyrrha blinked. “Don’t need to what, Penny?”

“Don’t need to … to feel bad,” Penny said. “For being here, instead of with them.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she reached out and took one of Penny’s hands in her own. “But you do, don’t you?”

“I…” Penny also paused for a moment. “Ruby probably wouldn’t have wanted us there anyway.”

Pyrrha didn’t reply to that. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate us that much,” Jaune said.

Yes, that, that was what there was to say.

“Do you think so?” Penny asked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jaune replied. “I really think so. She just … wants some space. Needs some space. Just like … just like I needed some space from my parents and my sisters, but … I never stopped loving them. And Ruby won’t, or hasn’t, stopped liking you or thinking about you as a friend just because … of this.”

“Far be it from me to intrude upon your conversation,” said Umber Gorgoneion airily as she swept down upon them, her long black coat trailing after her, the moonlight glinting off the toecaps of her boots. The girl that she had been speaking to followed a step and a half behind.

“But you’re gonna anyway, right?” Jaune asked, in a manner that was not entirely friendly.

Umber smiled thinly. “I won’t presume to comment on your relations with … Ruby, was it, but as to whether or not you should have remained here or, as Beacon students, gone with the … other Beacon students, I think that you made the right choice. While, from my perspective, it is unfortunate that … would you say it is honour that demands that we must make some effort to succour the Valish if they ask for our help?”

“Isn’t that just the right thing to do?” asked Penny.

Umber chuckled. “If it were only the right thing, Penny Polendina, Mistralians wouldn’t be doing it; they very rarely concern themselves with the right thing. But they can occasionally be stirred to do the honourable thing.” She turned a shark-like smile on Pyrrha. “Is that not so, Lady Pyrrha?”

“I think it is a little harsh,” Pyrrha said. “There are many examples, old and new, of Mistralians doing the right thing. Camilla Volsci’s destruction of the criminal underworld—”

“Vengeance, sanctified by venerable tradition and the demands of honour,” Umber said. “But, in any event, if Polemarch Yeoh’s plan works as she hopes, it seems much more sound to me than any attempt to hold this Green Line by force of arms.”

“You seem very sure of that,” Pyrrha said softly. “Is that why you’re here?”

Umber chuckled lightly. “No, I must confess that I, that we … forgive me, Lady Pyrrha; allow me to introduce Elektra Fury of Team Gear.”

Elektra was a young woman of average height, a little shorter than Arslan, but not much more, with a dark skin tone reminiscent of Atlas — or Argus, considering her name. Her hair was red and worn in ringlets down the back of her neck halfway down her back; she wore a black tunic, loose fitting and leaving one shoulder bare, with a blood-red sash draped from her uncovered shoulder down to her other hip and beyond it, trailing down almost to the floor. A skirt with a flame pattern of gold and orange fell down to her knees. Upon both wrists, she wore golden bracelets shaped like snakes coiled around her skin, while like Umber, she wore a silver armband on her right arm. She bowed her head. “It is an honour.”

“And a pleasure,” Pyrrha said. “And please, Pyrrha will be perfectly well.”

“In this company, I fear it would see us torn to pieces,” Umber observed. “As I was saying, I am here because, having resolved to fight … Mistral is the land of my birth, though it is not the land of my choice. Being so, where should we better take our stand?”

“For most of the other Shade students, the answer seems to be nowhere,” Jaune pointed out.

“Yes…” Elektra said softly. “Vacuo is … Vacuo has many excellent qualities; it is a land of light and darkness as all are, but it has a certain reputation, and it is a pity that so many of our fellow students are content or even willing to live down to it. But there is more to Vacuo than that reputation, let us assure you. Though it be less visible, another Vacuo grows in the desert sands, a better Vacuo, a bolder Vacuo, a Vacuo … a Vacuo that, if the gods are good, will resemble the Mistral that should have been but never was, the Mistral that is sung of but which never truly lived.”

Pyrrha frowned. “You speak … I fear I do not take your meaning.”

“You will, perhaps, in time,” Umber replied. “In time, you may look back upon this conversation, and it will be as if a light was switched on in your mind, and you will understand everything, but for now, it is enough to say that, although we love Vacuo, the Vacuo we love is not afraid to stand its ground.”

“But you’d rather be here than standing with the Valish or the Atlesians,” Penny pointed out.

Elektra grinned. “She has us on the hip, Umber.”

“Indeed you have,” Umber agreed. “There is some worth to the idea of defending what belongs to one, what one has worked for and built, but just because that is true, it does not follow therefore that the best strategy is simply to plant oneself foursquare between danger and that you would protect. When faced with a stronger danger — and if it were not stronger, would it really be a danger at all? — one should be wise and cunning, as well as bold. Indeed, I will go so far as to say that cunning is to be preferred to boldness in such circumstances. The Atlesians, by means of having stolen everything of worth from Vacuo that wasn’t nailed down and dug up much that might have been solidly secured beneath the earth, become rich enough and powerful enough and technologically advanced enough” — she spat those words — “that it can afford not to be cunning anymore, for its cunning in the past was sufficient to ensure its success. So now, they can be as muscle-headed as they like and stand like stones and make a wall against the power of the grimm. The rest of us, Vacuo, Mistral, and Vale if they would be sensible, are of a different sort. We must be cunning; we have no better hope.”

“You make it sound hopeless for the Valish,” Penny murmured.

“I do not hold out a great deal of hope that a grimm horde can be repulsed by a static defence, no; I am of the Polemarch’s mind in that,” Umber said honestly. “I may be proven wrong, but—”

She was interrupted by a thunderous sound from the east, a rolling thunder that began softly and then rose and rose in intensity, thunder rolling on and on because it wasn’t really thunder at all; it was the firing of all the guns along the Green Line, Atlesian and, presumably, Valish also. Looking to the north, Pyrrha could see the Atlesian cruisers were firing immense barrages of missiles down to the ground, and she could see the flashes of laser fire, the red lasers of the cruisers, the green lasers of the smaller airships, she could see little lights like flares rising up out of the darkness and then falling down again. Some rose and fell slowly and singly, others flew more swiftly and in torrents.

That variety was only seen to the north; directly east of them, they only saw the single flares, spread out, which must have been conventional artillery coming from the Valish.

Pyrrha hoped that it would be enough.

Atlas has many weapons and airships, but the Valish have the Beacon students; that must count for something.

If technology is all that matters, then Umber is right: we are all lost, save only Atlas.

Penny clasped her hands together across her chest and bowed her head. She whispered, but despite the softness of her voice, she could be heard nonetheless by those who were close by.

“Lady of the North, um … you probably don’t like me very much right now, and I don’t have any right to ask you for anything … but I’m not asking for anything for myself; it’s for someone else, and that person hasn’t done anything to upset you! I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this, but let’s see if I can remember how this goes: stand with Ruby and Team Iron, and with all the other Beacon students, I guess; stand with them against the grimm and keep them alive. I suppose you must be very busy standing with Ciel and the Atlesians at the moment, but Ciel’s got Rainbow Dash and Blake and General Ironwood looking out for her, so could you maybe spare some attention for someone who doesn’t have all of those things?”

Pyrrha wondered — she could not help but wonder — if Penny really believed that that would have any difference.

Or whether it brought her some solace nonetheless.

Arslan stopped doing her push-ups and started to walk towards them. “It’s started, then,” she said.

“So it would seem,” Pyrrha replied in a soft voice.

Arslan reached up and played with one of the beads of fire dust around her neck. “I should carry more of these around at a time,” she muttered. “There’s a lot more firing coming from over there than there is from that way,” she added, pointing a thumb eastwards.

“Over there is the Atlesians,” Penny explained.

“Oh, yes, right, yeah, of course, I should have known,” Arslan murmured. “Do you wish you were over there instead of here?”

“No,” Penny said at once. “I’m … I don’t wish I was over there.”

“Fair,” Arslan muttered. She folded her arms and turned her attention westwards, in the direction of the city itself, where the lights were partially by the wall of the Red Line, but which could still be seen gleaming over it, the lights shining though the source of the light was concealed. Vale could not be seen, but its presence could be discerned.

“This place has rotten luck, doesn’t it?” Arslan asked.

“For the moment,” Pyrrha said, thinking that it might be Mistral’s turn to have some ‘rotten luck’ next.

After all, if Amber did succeed in carrying away the Relic, or if someone else did, or even if the Relic of Choice remained secure at Beacon for now, then Salem would need all four relics to complete her foul design. It stood to reason, then, that at some point, every kingdom in Remnant would endure some ‘rotten luck’ when Salem turned her gaze in their direction. It might be Mistral’s turn next, or it might be that Atlas or even Vacuo would come under attack first, but Mistral’s turn would come eventually.

And when it did … all the misfortunes that had this year fallen upon Valish heads would fall on Mistral; would her home, petty-proud and obsessed with what must be admitted to be rather trivial things, be able to bear the weight of such?

She wished that she could believe with all her heart that it would.

Certainly, Mistral had no cause to look at Vale with any smugness.

“Maybe it does,” Penny said. “But at the same time, I think that Vale is very lucky, that when its luck has been so bad, it’s still had so many good friends to help it.”

Umber sniffed. “What an Atlesian attitude, to think someone fortunate that they have suffered misfortune in such a way that allows Atlas to swoop in and save the day — and steal all the money they can get along the way, no doubt.”

“No,” Penny said. “This isn’t about Atlas, or at least it isn’t just about Atlas; it’s about everyone, being here, at this moment. At just the right time.”

Perhaps Salem should have chosen a quieter time to try and bring down Vale and acquire the Relic.

“Help!” a voice cried out from the darkness. “Help!”

The eyes of all the huntsmen turned eastwards, to where the sound was coming from. The voice was not one that Pyrrha recognised. It sounded like a woman, but she could say no more than that.

She prepared to summon Miló and Akoúo̱ into her hands, as she saw other huntsmen and huntresses reaching for their weapons, and the Mistralian soldiers began to finger their weapons too.

And yet, the Valish guns were still firing to the east, and surely, if the grimm had already broken through, then they would have ceased to fire by now, the guns overrun or dragged away to prevent them from being lost. They were still firing, which must surely mean the Valish were still fighting, no?

Pyrrha looked and watched the Valish fires as they rose and fell, rose and fell; were there fewer guns firing now than there had been, or was it just her fears that told her so? How bad was it really?

“Hold fast,” commanded Polemarch Yeoh, striding forward. “There is no need to panic.”

“Help!” cried the voice again, a voice that soon revealed itself as belonging to a Valish soldier, dressed in green, as she burst out of the darkness with eyes wide, darting this way and that as she looked around. “Help, who… who’s in charge?”

“That would be me,” said Polemarch Yeoh, approaching her with swift strides. “What news, soldier?”

The Valish soldier took a deep breath. “Help,” she gasped. “We … need help. Lot of grimm out there.”

“Is the line holding?” Polemarch Yeoh demanded.

“I don’t know,” the soldier replied. “I was sent for help before they attacked.”

“I see,” Polemarch Yeoh murmured. She paused for a moment, drawing back her shoulders. “Soldiers! Webbing on!”

Pyrrha had no idea what she meant by that, until she saw the Mistralian soldiers throwing what looked like capes or ponchos made of net, with what seemed to be leaves or twigs or grass stuck of the netting, which covered over their blue uniforms and draped down to the ground, leaving only their arms free. They also, as she watched, started to pull similar nets on over their helmets.

“Huntsmen and huntresses, pride of Mistral, move forward,” Polemarch Yeoh commanded. “We will follow, expecting word from you of what lies ahead.”

The huntsmen moved. No one gave the command, no one ordered them forward, but they moved nonetheless, almost as one; they didn’t move perhaps with Atlesian discipline, being in more of a rough clump than an organised formation, but they moved forward nonetheless.

Miló and Akoúo̱ flew into Pyrrha’s hands as she began to run forwards; Jaune scraped Crocea Mors free of its scabbard and transformed the scabbard itself into a shield; Floating Array emerged from out of Penny and hovered over her head as she ran alongside them. All the huntsmen and huntresses had their weapons ready — except for those like Arslan who barely used weapons — in case the grimm had already broken through the Valish line.

Although, if they had already broken through, then that meant … that might mean…

No, no, she couldn’t think like that. None of them could afford to think like that. They needed to maintain their focus; Pyrrha needed to maintain her focus.

Think only … think only necessary things tonight. Think only of battle, and not of nightmares.

They moved forward, without knowing how close or how far behind the Mistralian forces would be; considering Polemarch Yeoh’s avowed intent to set an ambush for the grimm, Pyrrha thought that the distance would be a little more than discreet.

As they moved forward, it became impossible for Pyrrha to deny that the Valish fire was slacking off, or to dismiss it as paranoia, fear, just her imagination: the guns were falling silent. Fewer shells were rising and falling, the thunderous sound was dying down — a little at least; the Atlesians were keeping up the volume, so sound was the most unreliable indicator at present.

Nevertheless, the other indicators did not look promising. It seemed that, though they had set off before the attack began, the Valish runner may have arrived … too late, as messengers so often did.

And then, before they had reached the Valish line, before they had even come in sight of it, the last gun fell silent, and there were no cannons firing on the Valish line whatsoever.

“They’ve stopped shooting,” Penny said.

“Maybe … maybe they ran out of ammunition?” Jaune suggested.

“So soon?” Penny asked. “But that would be … that would be pretty incompetent, wouldn’t it?” She paused. “Maybe they are incompetent. Rainbow Dash would say that they’re incompetent, Rainbow would laugh at them for running out of ammunition, and Ciel would say something quiet that cut like a sword, and then Blake … Blake would be very quiet and not cutting at all, just quiet. Maybe it’s like that. Maybe they’re just bad at this … but holding the line all the same. Maybe we’ll get there, and it’s all fine apart from ammunition.”

“Yes, Penny,” Pyrrha agreed, without much conviction in her voice. “Maybe.”

She had a hard time believing that as Penny said it, and it became harder and harder to believe it as they moved forward and encountered more and more of the remnants of the Valish defence streaming the other way: Valish soldiers casting their guns aside, Valish tanks with loud, growling engines that forced the huntsmen to scatter out of the way as they rushed heedlessly on, stopping for no one. Unless they were stopped, as happened to one tank that they saw drive into a tree and get stuck, the engine growing louder and more insistent as the crew tried to free it before finally giving up and bailing out.

“Excuse me,” Penny called out to some of the fleeing soldiers, to the trucks and cars that drove on by, raising her hand towards them as she tried to hail them. “Excuse me? Could you … could you please wait just a moment?”

They didn’t wait. They didn’t stop. They just kept on running or driving, pushing through the Mistralian huntsmen in their zeal to get away.

And some grimm were even pursuing them. A nevermore swooped down out of the night sky, talons outstretched towards a tank that was swerving wildly — as wildly as the slow and heavy vehicle could, at any rate — to try and avoid it; a soldier was half out of the turret, firing a pistol at the nevermore. The grimm paid the fire no heed at all.

It did take heed when Penny opened up on it with Floating Array, beam after emerald beam lancing up through the darkness towards it. The nevermore shrieked and turned away, wings beating; it was briefly silhouetted as it passed across the moon, and then it disappeared.

The tank crew did not stop to thank Penny for their deliverance. They just kept on driving, nearly running over Reese who had to swerve her hoverboard out of the way to escape.

“Cicero,” Violet said, “go back and tell Polemarch Yeoh that the Valish defence is all swept away.”

“I will,” Cicero said, and yet, he did not go straight away but paused for a moment. “Will you follow on my heels?”

Violet paused for a moment. “Not yet, I think,” she said. “We will go forward, meet the grimm, then draw them back with us while giving Polemarch Yeoh time to set her ambush.”

She looked around, as if daring someone to contradict her.

No one did.

Cicero nodded. “Very well. I’ll come back as soon as I’ve brought word to the Polemarch.”

He turned and disappeared back the way that they had come.

The rest of the huntsmen and huntresses pressed forwards.

The nevermore that Penny had chased off was not the only sight they saw of the grimm: a couple of griffons were chasing a group of fleeing Valish soldiers, but at the sight of so many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses — and after a couple of arrows and javelins and gunshots had been hurled their way — they, like the nevermore before them, decided that discretion was the better part of valour and flew off back the way that they had come.

“Carrying word of our coming, no doubt,” said Violet Valeria.

“Word to who?” Arslan demanded. “Do they understand one another’s growls and shrieks?”

“Perhaps they do,” replied Lily Cornelia. “And if they do, they’ll have a tale to tell.”

“Let them tell it,” said Arslan. “Just because they know we’re coming doesn’t mean there’ll be anything that they can do about it.”

“Perhaps we should slow down or stop,” said Violet. “Lily can scout ahead, concealed by her semblance.”

“Stop?” Pyrrha exclaimed. “No, we must press on; we’ve still seen no sign of the huntsmen and huntresses from Beacon; they may still be fighting and in need.”

Violet bit her lip. She was a little short in stature, standing somewhere between Ruby’s height and Penny’s, but with more muscle on her arms than either of them; she wore her brown hair in a pageboy cut, with violet highlights at the tips that matched her eyes. A bodysuit of flexible, utilitarian armour, trimmed with blue highlights, embraced her form, with a short skirt decorated with golden thunderbolts dropping to just beneath her thighs and a cloak of hair boarhide hanging from her shoulders. A necklace of boar’s tusks hung from about her neck.

“I … I know that they’re your friends and classmates, Lady Pyrrha—”

“It’s not just that,” Jaune said. “If the grimm are warned of our coming, then we should move as quickly as we can before they have time to react; if we delay, then we might see what preparations they’re making, but it would be better to catch them before they’ve made their preparations, don’t you think?”

Violet was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, let us press on.”

And press on they did, until they started to encounter other huntsmen and huntresses, like the three remaining members of Team CFVY, retreating from the battle.

Unlike the soldiers, they did stop, looking a little less terrified than the Valish troops in green had been in their headlong flight.

“Nice to see you all,” Coco said, sarcasm lacing her voice. “But you’re too late; the Green Line has already fallen; the grimm will turn the Atlesians next, I’m sure. We’re falling back to the Red Line; you’ll do the same if you value your lives.”

“We have a plan that requires us to go forward first,” Pyrrha said. “But what about Team Iron, did you see them?”

“They were to our left,” Velvet explained. “But we lost track of them. I think they were slower to get away than we were.”

“What’s this plan?” asked Coco. “The one that means you have to go forwards towards the grimm?”

“We’re going to lure them into a trap,” said Penny.

Coco took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’d like to see that. What do you say, guys, have we got another fight in us?”

“Without a doubt,” growled Fox.

Other Beacon students joined them as they advanced, having previously fallen back but still with the aura and the valour to turn around and face the grimm again now that the odds of success were better.

Now, though they couldn’t hear the guns, they began to be able to hear the grimm, in all their snarls and roars. They still couldn’t see them in the dark of the night, but if they could hear them, then they must be close.

"I see them!" Penny cried, pointing straight ahead. She gasped. "They're surrounded!"

The swords of Floating Array converged in a tight group around Penny's chest, the blades folding up into their carbine configuration as the tips glowed green.

"How far?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not that far," Penny said. "Close. A hundred yards, maybe two hundred."

"That isn't far," Arslan said. "We can do that in a run."

"On Penny's shot," Pyrrha said, "we move forward."

Nobody questioned her, which Pyrrha was grateful for in the immediate circumstances.

Penny fired, an immense laser beam blasting into the darkness, momentarily illuminating a roiling mass of grimm, an immense tide of darkness dotted with white bone masks.

“For the honour of Mistral!” shouted Violet, brandishing a javelin above her head. “For the pride of Haven!”

"For Mistral!" cried Lucius Andronicus, brandishing one of his flamethrowers before him, fire leaping from the tip.

With shouts and warcries, wordless and not, the huntsmen and huntresses charged, weapons at the ready. Pyrrha's hair and sash alike trailed behind her like the banners of an army as her long legs and swift stride bore her to the forefront, outpacing Jaune and Penny and even Arslan too. Moonlight glinted off her shield and her gilded armour as she charged.

She could see them now, just as Penny had said; they came into view as if emerging from out of a wall of darkness, although it was the different wall of darkness that concerned Pyrrha, the grimm that had them surrounded. Penny's shot had cut close by Team YRRN, and the grimm were taken by surprise — Jaune had been right then about the advantages of moving swiftly — and had not yet filled in the gap.

But the grimm were still surrounding Team YRRN on three sides, and partially on the fourth.

But not for long.

Pyrrha threw Miló in spear form as she closed the distance, skewering a beowolf in the chest as it turned to face her. The spear hurled the grimm back a few paces, but Pyrrha reached it before it had dissolved and plucked her spear from its decaying corpse. She spun on one heel, sash fluttering around her as she slashed with Miló all around her to wound the beowolves that pressed about. They recoiled, whimpering and howling; one of them recoiled straight into Nora's hammer which bludgeoned its face into ruin. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at a beowolf behind her even as she skewered another in front, recovering her shield and twirling once again to use its edge to sever the head of another from its body.

An ursa sailed over Pyrrha's head as Nora punted it into the air with an uppercut to the jaw. Whether it was dead before it landed in the midst of the Haven students coming up or they killed it didn't seem to matter very much.

"Hey, Pyrrha," Nora said, even as she turned around to bring her hammer down on a skittering stormvermin, crushing it beneath the blow. "You got here just in time."

"Don't flatter her," Yang said as she punched out an ursa until it was dead on the ground. "We could have taken them."

"Well, I'm grateful," Nora said, rolling her eyes a little as she hit three beowolves with a single swing of her hammer.

Pyrrha idly stepped on a stormvermin's head, crushing its skull even as her attention was upon the alpha beowolf trying to restore order to the disorganised grimm. She charged towards it, throwing Akoúo̱ before her. The spinning shield hit the grimm square on the snout, flying back towards Pyrrha as the beowolf recoiled. Pyrrha leapt onto Akoúo̱ then kicked strongly off of it, gripping Miló in both hands as she flew through the air. She tucked her legs in, rolling as she passed over the alpha beowolf, falling down behind it like one of the Valish shells that they had seen lighting up the darkness from far off, falling as she had risen. Falling behind the alpha beowolf.

The beowolf looked up, and Pyrrha wrapped Miló around its neck and planted her feet squarely on its back. Her footing was a little tentative between the spurs of bone erupting out of the creature's back, and Pyrrha could feel the bone scraping against her skin where it met the patch of bare leg — larger on the inside — between her cuisses and her microskirt. Nevertheless, as precarious as her footing might be, she braced against it, hauling Miló backwards into the beowolf's neck. The alpha flailed its arms wildly, swaying this way and that, trying and failing to throw Pyrrha off. Pyrrha felt her feet slip once or twice, but she held on and kept on pulling. The alpha was distracted as the swords of Floating Array slashed at its chest from the front, trying to find a way through its armour. Other beowolves tried to leap up to get at Pyrrha, but Jaune made a running slide between the alpha beowolf's legs — very impressive — to cut the legs out from underneath one of them, while Ruby took out two more with a swing of Crescent Rose.

Pyrrha pulled back on Miló until the spearshaft went right through the alpha beowolf's neck, severing its head from its body. Pyrrha leapt backwards, backflipping again before she landed, idly driving her spear into an ursa's chest.

"Showoff," Yang muttered.

"Do you think there are enough of us now to retake the Green Line?" Ruby asked as she brought her scythe down on a creep.

"No," Jaune said, getting to his feet. "We're going to retreat and lure the grimm into an ambush that Polemarch Yeoh is setting up behind us."

A beowolf hurled itself upon him. Jaune brought up his shield to defend himself, holding the grimm at bay as its claws tried to reach him around the shield, before he drove Crocea Mors into its shoulder and unleashed a blast of lightning dust down the blade. The grimm twitched and writhed, guttural sounds tumbling out of its mouth before it fell over dead.

"I really hope they didn't understand what I just said," Jaune added.

"Okay," Ruby murmured. "If that's the plan, then—"

Bolin cried out wordlessly as he was flung backwards through the air, tossed by a powerful blow from the trunk of a goliath that was storming forwards through the ranks of the grimm. Beowolves, creeps, and stormvermin either fell back before its passage or were trampled aside by the immense creature which advanced, heedless of whoever might stand in its way.

Reese Chloris tried to circle around it, firing both her pistols, green bolts of energy lancing up to strike the goliath's armoured head.

The goliath turned a baleful gaze on Reese as its trunk snapped out and wrapped around the huntress' waist. It was Reese's turn to cry out as the goliath hoisted her up into the air, enduring the continued fire from Reese's pistols as it lifted her over its head.

The goliath trumpeted triumphantly as it slammed Reese down into the ground in front of it. It continued to stride forward majestically as it lifted Reese up and drove her back down into the ground once more.

Reese's pistols dropped from her hands.

Arslan threw herself onto the ground directly athwart the goliath's path. The goliath advanced, raising one foot to bring it down upon her.

Arslan raised her Nemean Claw and drove it straight into the bottom of the goliath's foot as it descended.

The goliath roared in pain, rearing up on its hind legs, dropping Reese as its trunk twisted and waved in the air in pain.

Arslan was on her feet in a moment, catching Reese before she hit the ground, carrying her backwards out of the path of the goliath whose eyes seemed to be blazing an even brighter red now than they had been before.

It landed on all fours with an earth-shaking thud, and its trumpet was a low warning sound as it advanced once more, enduring bullets and arrows and blasts of dust as though they had been spit and flecks of dirt. Lucius Andronicus hit it with two blasts of flame from both his flamethrowers, but the grimm strode through the fire seemingly unharmed by it. Cicero Ward used his semblance on it, a booming shout blasting out of his mouth, but the goliath seemed barely fazed by it.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said. "Give me a boost, and then let me lift you."

Jaune didn't look as if he quite understood the necessity of the second part, but he comprehended the first part of Pyrrha's request quite well enough. He lifted his shield up like a platform — a beowolf tried to rush him, but Ren dived in front and took it out with a few well-placed slashes from the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers — to support Pyrrha as she jumped onto it.

She felt Jaune's semblance spreading up her legs, washing away the lingering feeling of the beowolf's bone upon her skin.

She leapt, a powerful jump far greater than she could have achieved on her own, carrying her higher into the air than when she had just leapt over the alpha beowolf, a leap that carried her over the heads of beowolves and ursai and onto the back of the rampaging goliath.

Goliaths didn't develop a lot of bone, even as they grew older; Professor Port said that the very oldest goliaths did grow armour plate upon their flanks, and some grew links of bone-like chain which drooped down towards the ground to protect their legs, but until they reached that greatly advanced age, their bodies remained black and oily and without spurs or spikes emerging out their backs or anywhere else. Only their heads were armoured, and that was quite bad enough.

That meant that Pyrrha didn't have to worry about anything protruding out of the goliath's back to obstruct her, but it also meant her footing was somewhat insecure, the goliath's back uneven and slippery. Pyrrha drove Miló down into the Goliath's back like a climber driving a pick into the rocky surface of a mountain, clinging onto her spear with one as the goliath thrashed from side to side. Pyrrha lost her footing and would have fallen otherwise, but she clung onto Miló, and her spear was driven deep enough to bear her weight.

The goliath reached for her with its trunk, fumbling blindly for her over its head, but Penny drove the swords of Floating Array into the black flesh of the trunk, stabbing at it over and over again.

"Come on, Pyrrha!" she cried.

Pyrrha recovered her footing and held onto Miló yet with one hand even as she reached out for Jaune with the other. Her free hand glowed black as she picked up Jaune by his armour and lifted him up through the air to join her on the back of the goliath.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, holding onto him with grip and Polarity both as she held onto Miló.

"It's weakest at the nape of the neck," she explained.

Jaune understood. Leaning back a little, leaning into Pyrrha, his body resting against her arm and shoulder, he lifted Crocea Mors up above his head and then lanced it downwards like a thunderbolt into the goliath's neck just behind its armoured skull.

He unleashed all the lightning dust that he had stored in the sword's pommel, yellow lightning piercing into the goliath, rippling up and down its black body — snapping at Pyrrha and Jaune a little too; she could feel it nipping at her aura — as it trumpeted in pain.

Jaune used all the lightning dust; he didn't stop until the phial was empty, the yellow glow completely extinguished.

The goliath stood still, silent. Then, like a crumbling old building, it began to topple over sideways.

Pyrrha jumped away, carrying Jaune with her, landing a trifle heavily upon her feet before she set him down.

Penny's swords sliced through a quartet of beowolves behind them.

The huntsmen had done well, not only breaking through to relieve Team YRRN but inflicting losses upon the grimm who had been startled by the sudden attack when they must have thought their enemy beaten and in retreat. But now, as the goliath's attack had just demonstrated, the grimm were beginning to reorganise, the advantage of surprise fading away, and no doubt, they would be faced with more goliaths soon if they stayed here.

Jaune discarded the empty phial of lightning dust, slamming a phial of light blue ice dust into the pommel of his sword and sweeping it before him, conjuring a wall of ice between the huntsmen and the grimm as they began to retreat back the way they had come.

Unfortunately, with the amount of ice that he had and the number of grimm arrayed against them, it seemed to take no time at all for the grimm to smash through the barrier and commence their pursuit.

"They'll try and encircle us," Yang warned.

And so it proved, the grimm constantly trying to get around the Haven and Beacon students, to get behind them and cut them off; they never quite managed it, but it was touch and go, the formation of the huntsmen — such as it was, they remained rather amorphous in their grouping — shifting like water to fend off attacks from one flank, then another, then the front, then from both flanks at once. The grimm died in great numbers, pierced by sword and spear, burned by fire, shot; but there were always more grimm, and often, there seemed to be larger and stronger grimm than those that died, while the swords grew heavy in the arms of the huntsmen, and their supply of ammunition and dust began to run low. Reese's aura had been broken by the goliath; she had been fortunate indeed to escape injury, but Bolin — whose aura was not in great state itself — had to carry her, or she would have fallen behind. Lily Cornelia of Team VLCA had to be helped along by Cicero Ward after a beowolf's claws broke through her aura and raked across her back. As injuries and aura breakings mounted, Pyrrha found herself hoping that they would reach the sight of Polemarch Yeoh's ambush soon.

Until they did, all they could do was keep on retreating, as large grimm began to press through the ranks of the horde once more, like the towering cyclops that was advancing through the smaller grimm, arms like ancient oak trees swinging from side to side, its long, sharp teeth seeming to grin as it bore down on them. At the pace at which they were retreating, it would surely catch up to them soon.

Their retreat was now taking them past some of the detritus of the Valish rout that they had encountered on their way forwards, such as the tank that had driven into a tree and been abandoned by its crew.

"Pyrrha!" Penny cried. "Can you throw that tank at the cyclops?"

"I think so," Pyrrha replied, slinging Akoúo̱ across her back and reaching out for the tank with one hand. The black outline of Polarity covered her hand and the abandoned tank alike. It was a heavy thing, very heavy indeed, and Pyrrha had to concentrate. The weight of the tank resisted, to say nothing of the fact that its original crew had jammed it in place; she was contending against both those facts. Pyrrha gritted her teeth with the effort and fought against the urge to grunt as she pulled upon the tank.

It came free, shattering the tree in the process unfortunately, but Pyrrha had no time to dwell on that as she swung the abandoned tank through the air and hurled it straight for the cyclops' face.

The cyclops tried to catch it, raising one meaty hand to grasp the tank, but Pyrrha lifted it up over the waiting hand and down towards the cyclops' single eye.

Penny fired a single laser from one of her carbines. The green bolt shot upwards, striking the tank in the side, piercing its armour.

The tank exploded in an immense ball of fire that consumed the head of the cyclops, a fireball that burned bright even as smaller explosions rattled within the flames, flaming debris falling down to land on the ground below.

The headless cyclops crashed to the ground, crushing numerous smaller grimm beneath it.

"I was right about where the magazine was," Penny said.

"Great job, Penny!" cried Ruby. She paused for a moment. "And you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha didn't answer. There was no time to answer, no time to do anything except keep on retreating, falling back, always back in the face of the numbers of the grimm that pursued them. And pursue them they did, pursue them eagerly, hungry roars rising from their throats as they pressed hard upon the huntsmen before them.

They had reached a little hamlet, empty by the looks of it, a cluster of buildings spread out across the flat terrain, with barns and walled farmhouses — none of them lit up, none of them showing any signs of occupancy — spread out across the barren fields, while sunken lanes and deep drainage ditches criss-crossed the land. There was no sign of Polemarch Yeoh and her Mistralian forces.

But the battleship Dingyuan hung in the sky. The lights of the great ship shone, but that was the only sign of life as they approached the empty, deserted-seeming hamlet.

The buildings were empty, and the battleship was silent; it hung in the night sky, its light shone, but its guns did not fire and seemed oblivious to what was going on beneath it, as though they were ants to an oblivious god.

Some of the huntsmen reached the crossroads, Bolin carrying Reese between the dark and silent buildings, Cicero helping Lily along.

The grimm pressed hard upon their heels, snapping and snarling.

The Dingyuan began to slowly turn, presenting its broadside towards the onrushing grimm.

Fire rang out from out of the darkness, rifles cracking in the dark, the brief lights of muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness as fire from both sides slammed into the grimm. Beowolves fell, and even ursai too, trembling as they were hit again and again before they finally dropped. The grimm advance faltered, the grimm turning this way and that as the bullets continued to fly.

The smaller grimm faltered, at least, and now would have been the perfect moment to round on them in a counterattack if the larger grimm, smug in their invulnerability to small arms fire, had not continued to advance, striding through their disordered smaller cousins.

One side of the Dingyuan was consumed in flame as its guns opened up, a deafening roar echoing through the land just as the flash of the guns illuminated the darkness.

The shells struck home, exploding in a second wall of fire that consumed goliath and cyclopes and the smaller grimm unfortunate enough to be caught between them.

Polemarch Yeoh, it seems events have proven you correct about everything, Pyrrha thought.

I can only hope you are correct also that General Ironwood will retrieve the situation on his flank.

Author's Note

While 'Thin White Line' showcased the Atlesian military in its best-case scenario, while 'Breaking Point' showed how the Valish attempt to do Atlesian-style warfare on the cheap was almost foredoomed to failure, this chapter attempts to show how a force of light infantry, without any of the Atlesian advantages in equipment or air support, can nevertheless prove effective. There was a little bit of foreshadowing for this sometime earlier when it's mentioned that Polemarch Yeoh is winning the wargames being held with the Valish because she keeps ambushing them.

Great Minds (New)

Great Minds

"Colonel Harper," Ironwood said. "How's it going down there?"

It seemed, apart from anything else, to be going very loudly down there; Ironwood could hear explosions and gunfire, plenty of both, along with some quieter and harder to make out sounds that were probably coming from the grimm. It sounded as though the battle was in full swing.

"They're pressing us hard, sir," Harper replied. "And I have to admit that they've been smarter than I was expecting them to be, took out my minefields. All the same, I think I can hold them from the front. The problem is that the Valish have completely caved in on our right flank; they broke, sir, took to their heels. The grimm have overrun that sector of the Green Line."

Fitzjames cursed. Ironwood didn't do the same because he was the commanding officer and forced to maintain a certain level of composure even in the face of difficult situations. "Are the grimm trying to flank you?"

"A few tentative moves, nothing major yet," Harper said. "The Beacon huntsmen students have made a fighting retreat, and that's kept the grimm preoccupied, at least as far as my observers can make out. But it has to be only a matter of time before they realise what they could get from rounding on us."

Ironwood was inclined to agree with that assessment. Harper was the officer on the spot, and so her words should be considered very carefully in any event, but they also made logical sense; the grimm who had driven the Valish off the field might be preoccupied with the resistance they still faced for the moment, but at some point, either once they eliminated that resistance — that was a very cold way to think about Ozpin's students, but the circumstances made it impossible to ignore — or the resistance hardened up, they would start to consider other approaches, like a way around the Atlesian flank to support the other half of their assault that wasn't progressing so well. It would be naïve to pretend that it wasn't going to happen just because it hadn't happened yet.

"What about the Mistralians?" Ironwood asked.

"Haven't seen them, sir," Harper replied.

Ironwood fought very hard to maintain his composure. "Understood," he growled.

He thought. He could order a withdrawal now, but with the grimm still attacking to the front, that would be a difficult operation for the two battalions to execute; an evacuation by air, with the grimm snapping at their heels onto the Skyrays, might get the infantry and the students away, but it would mean abandoning the spiders and the Paladins, which wasn't desirable. A retreat across country towards the Red Line, again with the grimm snapping at their heels, might preserve the artillery and the Paladins, but it would forfeit the defensive positions the Atlesians had spent months preparing and trade them in for a fight on open country. That wasn't very desirable either.

"Continue to focus on the grimm in front of you," he ordered Harper. "I'll drop the Third Battalion in to secure your flank."

That had its risks, not least of which was the fact that the Third Battalion would not be occupying prepared positions but would have to face the fury of the grimm in the open field, but it was the best option for difficult circumstances.

"Understood, sir; I'll deploy some of the students to support them," Harper said.

"If you can spare them, Colonel," Ironwood replied. "Good luck down there, Ironwood out." He paused for a moment. "Des Voeux, try and get me Polemarch Yeoh on the line?"

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux replied, bending over his controls. Seconds passed. Seconds climbed into double figures while des Voeux tried to get a response from the Mistralian commander. Eventually, the comms officer looked apologetically up at Ironwood. "No response, sir."

Ironwood drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Cunningham, what's the status of the Dingyuan?"

There was a momentary pause before Lieutenant Cunningham replied. "It's engaging the enemy, sir."

"On screen," Ironwood instructed.

There was another pause, before a viewscreen flashed up in front of the bridge crew, displaying the Mistralian battleship that remained in Mistralian hands poured fire down onto the ground.

"I want a drone out there to see what they're shooting at," Ironwood ordered.

"Aye aye, sir, dispatching drone now," Fitzjames said.

Ironwood kept his eyes on the viewscreen. As he watched, the fire of the battleship down to the ground began to lessen as increasing numbers of flying grimm came into view, forcing the Dingyuan to target them instead. Shells that had plunged down to the ground now burst into the air around the battleship as the armoured, bulky airship became hard to see for all the black feathers swirling around it.

Were they firing in support of someone? Did the Valish troops rally?

He would find out once the drone got into position, but until it did so, there was little to be gained from speculation. He needed to get Third Battalion into position. Third Squadron was one of the two he had brought with him from Atlas at the start of the last semester, but he had recently pulled them out of the line to form his reserve; their ships had already helped to protect the Amity Arena, and it was unfortunate that they were going to be a cruiser down, the Resolution being in no state to get into another fight with the grimm, but the rest of the Squadron was still in fighting shape.

They'd better be, considering the circumstances.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Inform Colonel Palmer that he's to execute Plan Quickstep immediately." Palmer, of the Third Squadron, had already been briefed on numerous plans based on possible contingencies for the battle to come. In this instance, they were all named after dances — Waltz, Quickstep, Foxtrot, Tango — because they had unique names that couldn't be misheard for something else. Quickstep was the plan which assumed a Valish collapse and the grimm overrunning that part of the Green Line before it could be occupied by someone else. Ironwood had chosen it because, of all the plans, it might require the Third to move quickest.

"Aye aye, sir."

"And get me Colonel Sky Beak at Valish headquarters," Ironwood added. Yes, the forces that had been holding the Green Line had broken, but there might still be some way that the Valish Defence Force could support them.

"Yes, sir."

"Sir," Fitzjames said. "The drone is in position now."

"Put it on," Ironwood ordered.

The image on the viewscreen of the Dingyuan was replaced by an aerial shot of the ground below, where a large number of students, recognisable as distinct from the soldiers by their unique and colourful outfits, were engaging an even larger number of grimm. Someone was firing on the grimm from the flanks, it seemed; the drone wasn't showing who was doing the shooting, but grimm were dying, and they weren't being visibly engaged by any of the students; and it was all happening too often to be the work of one student with a rare semblance.

The students included Ozpin's proteges, he was sure; even from the drone footage, Ironwood was sure that he could spot Miss Rose and Miss Nikos; they both had quite distinct appearances. He couldn't see Penny so easily, but if Miss Rose and Miss Nikos were there, then Penny would surely be there too.

They were heavily outnumbered; the grimm seemed to be focussing their attention upon the huntsmen and huntresses, choosing to endure the fire they were receiving from other quarters. Could the students hold out, especially now that their fire support from the battleship had been cut off?

Ozpin's students were taught to fight without that kind of assistance, but against those kinds of numbers? In the circumstances, they would be well advised to fall back. He was guessing that they didn't because they'd arranged to make a stand here where someone, their unseen assistance, possibly Polemarch Yeoh's Mistralians or maybe the Valish having feigned their flight from the Green Line, would give them supporting fire.

That was all very well, but to Ironwood's eyes, it didn't look as though the supporting fire was heavy enough to counterattack the grimm's numerical advantage. If things kept up, then, though the grimm would no doubt take heavy casualties, the students would be worn down, exhausted, their aura spent, until they succumbed to the grimm tide.

A Mistralian short sword, of a type called a tanto, clattered to the floor.

"Trust me, sir, you … you don't wanna see what they … you don't want to see that." Dash trembled where she stood. "I'm sorry, sir, I … I wasn't fast enough."

There was nothing he could do to help them. He needed all his forces to hold his current position; he had no aid to spare for them. He would have to hope that the Valish did.

"Colonel Sky Beak, sir," des Voeux said.

"Put him through," Ironwood ordered. "Colonel Sky Beak, are you aware of the situation at the Green Line?"

Sky Beak sighed. "I'd hoped that the reports of soldiers of the Patch Light Infantry and the Lifeguards turning up at the gates to the Red Line proclaiming that the Green Line was lost were exaggerated. Is this where you tell me it's all true, General?"

"I'm afraid your soldiers have abandoned their posts, and the grimm are beyond the Green Line," Ironwood said, with sincere regret in his voice. He didn't envy Colonel Sky Beak one bit; the man had well and truly been thrown in at the deep end on this one; he couldn't imagine a worse time to be suddenly thrust into command.

"Damn," Sky Beak growled. "My soldiers?" he said. "But not yours?"

"My forces are still holding their part of the Green Line," Ironwood replied, in a neutral tone.

"Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but shouldn't you pull them back before they get flanked?"

"I'm hopeful that we can secure our flank and maintain the position a little longer," Ironwood said. "Just as I'm hopeful that you have some additional forces that you can commit to the fighting beyond the Red Line?"

There was a pause. "You want me to try and retake the Green Line?"

"No," Ironwood said. "But there are Beacon and Haven students still fighting in the area between the Green and Red Lines, and I think that the Mistralians may be there too. They could use some support, Colonel."

"No doubt they could," Sky Beak said. "But that doesn't mean that I have the support to give them. General, the Valish Defence Force was ordered to treat you as the enemy earlier tonight; now, they've been told that all the orders they received from their commanding officer was the result of brain fever amongst the senior command staff, and every unit is reporting a sudden epidemic of mental health issues. Soldiers are filling the sickbays up, reporting dissociative episodes, fugue states, hearing voices. It seems like General Blackthorn and his staff weren't the only ones suffering from mass delirium. I'm having to scrape together ad-hoc battle groups out of whatever troops and officers can be found fit for duty because I don't have a single battalion or company that isn't being shredded by these issues. I understand that it's an emergency, but I can't give rifles to men and women who'd be dangers to themselves and their comrades, and I barely have enough troops to man the Red Line, let alone venture beyond it."

"You won't need to hold the Red Line, or even defend it, so long as we keep the fighting beyond it," Ironwood pointed out. "Colonel, those students are fighting hard out there, but without assistance, they will be overrun."

"Then you'll need to find that support, General; I don't have any to spare," Sky Beak said. "I'm sorry. If the Council were to authorise it, that would be one thing, but the Council cannot convene in the absence of the First Councillor, and, well … I don't have the authority to compromise the integrity of Vale's defences to succour some students. Unless you can help them, they'll have to take their chances."

"They're your students," Ironwood pointed out. "Not mine."

Sky Beak was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really do recommend an immediate withdrawal, but if you think you can hold, then best of luck to you and your forces. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm getting constant updates on readiness from individual commanding officers. Sky Beak out."

Ironwood stood stock still, eyes pointed directly ahead without, for the moment, seeing anything.

So much for that.

The Mistralian blade clattered to the floor.

Holding the Atlesians' present positions was likely to be challenging enough without stretching the lines thin to accommodate a rescue effort for the Beacon and Haven students — and perhaps the Mistralian forces as well. He simply didn't have the numbers for it.

Unless … maybe there was something he could do to help them that didn't require a significant investment of force.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Get me Rainbow Dash."

"The Valish are breaking!"

Rainbow's head snapped around, temporarily torn away from the advancing goliath by the sound of Starlight's cry.

The Valish were breaking? The Valish were breaking already? But how could the Valish be breaking already, the battle had hardly even started yet? The grimm hadn't even … okay, maybe they were moving faster against the Valish than they were against the Atlesians, since the Atlesian preparations had slowed them down, but even so, it couldn't be that big of a difference, could it?

They were breaking already, seriously?

If you were going to run away so fast, why bother to show up at all?

And much more importantly, what was going to happen now that their flank was in the air? Yes, Colonel Harper had deployed the Military Huntsman company to hold the flank, but even so, they weren't holding a long line; the grimm could lap them now without anyone standing in their way, and if they did that, then the whole line would unravel.

A trumpeting roar from the goliath reminded Rainbow Dash that the line wouldn't need to unravel under attack from the flank if it was first battered down by the grimm already attacking it from the front.

"Eyes front!" Colonel Harper cried. "Your flank is secure, don't worry about that, worry about these bastards in front of you! Bring that goliath down, bring it down!"

The goliath was the focus of fire even before Colonel Harper's exhortation. Rifles crackled, machine guns and light support weapons blazed, tracer rounds seemed as bright as Penny's laser beams, rockets flew like shooting stars from the launchers to slam into the goliath's side.

None of it brought down the enormous elephant-looking grimm. It soaked up bullets, endured rockets bursting on its black hide, trampled down the barbed wire, and even stepped on the caltrops without slowing down.

"Ciel!" Rainbow called. "Hit that thing!"

Ciel shoved a new magazine, practically the size of one of Rainbow's machine pistols, into Distant Thunder. She worked the bolt, chambering a round.

Her expression was stiff and cold as she raised the rifle to her shoulder, turning the long barrel so that it was pointed at the goliath.

"Lady, guide my eye," Ciel murmured.

Distant Thunder roared, the barrel flashing. The shot struck the goliath in the side, in its soft unarmoured flesh.

The grimm shuddered but did not fall.

The sound of its steps were as loud as the report of Distant Thunder as it strode forwards.

Ciel worked the bolt again, discharging her spent cartridge with a thud upon the ground and chambering a new round.

She adjusted her aim, teeth visibly gritted as she bared them in a grimace.

She fired again, this time hitting the goliath on the head; the shot glanced off the bone skull.

"I've got an idea," Blake said. "But I need your help. With your semblance, I think we can wrap my ribbon around its legs and trip it up. And then … I'm not sure, but I hope it'll be easier to kill once it's on the ground."

Rainbow nodded. "That … I don't think anyone has a better idea, so okay, let's do it. Ciel, Starlight, can you give us some covering fire?"

"You got it, Dash," Starlight said.

Ciel nodded silently.

"Thanks," Rainbow said. To Blake, she said, "Right, how do you want to do this?"

Blake answered with action, not words, by leaping down off the earth rampart to the obstacle strewn ground below.

Rainbow followed, jumping down, firing with both pistols at the smaller grimm that had begun to cross the ditches in the wake of the larger ones. If the goliaths or the cyclopes breached the wall or rampart, then the little ones would all try and swarm through, but if Blake and Rainbow could bring the goliath down, then they would be nothing more than target practice for the soldiers above.

Provided that they could bring this goliath down.

Blake landed nimbly on the ground and immediately started to run for the goliath. She leapt over a patch of barbed wire, slashing with sword and cleaver alike at a beowolf that leapt for her, cutting it in half.

Blue bolts from Starlight's Equaliser flew past her, slamming into other nearby grimm.

As Blake charged, the goliath became aware of her. It bellowed angrily as it swung its trunk in her direction. Blake left a clone behind to take the hit as she ran on, diving beneath an ursa's swiping paw a moment before a shot from Distant Thunder blew the ursa's head off.

Blake used another clone to avoid another swipe of the goliath's trunk, Gambol Shroud transforming in her hand from sword to hook as she reached the goliath's thick trunk leg.

Blake buried her cleaver in the leg, cutting as deeply as she could, her pale hand almost buried in the black grimm, before she turned and threw the hook towards Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow shoved Brutal Honesty into its holster and caught the hook one handed.

Then she began to run, a rainbow trailing after her as she ran around the goliath, and as she ran, she pulled Blake's long black ribbon, the other half still held in her hand, after her.

She ran around the goliath in a rainbow burst, circling the grimm, pulling the ribbon around its legs, sliding under Blake’s outstretched hands as she tied the ribbon around her cleaver. Rainbow ran around and around until there was no more ribbon left to run, and she thrust the hook into another of the goliath's legs.

All of the goliath's legs were now wrapped in black ribbon. Blake had tied off the ribbon, but she had her hands on it, and Rainbow did too, both of them channelling their aura into it so the goliath couldn't just snap it with its immense strength.

That didn't stop it from trying. The goliath strained, it pulled, it tried to move its legs and keep on striding towards the Atlesisn rampart, but all it succeeded in doing was tripping over its own tied up legs, stumbling and toppling sideways, nearly landing on Blake who had to let go of the ribbon — Rainbow held onto it — and roll aside before the goliath landed on its side with an earth-shaking thud.

The goliath writhed and raged, trumpeting furiously, waving its trunk, shaking its head. Its red eyes burned with rage.

Ciel fired again, Distant Thunder roaring. This time, she hit it in the nape of the neck, just behind the armoured skull.

The goliath shuddered, its head dropping before it began to turn to ashes.

The Atlesian troops up on the rampart cheered.

"Bravo, bravo!" Rarity cried.

Grimm howled in anger, and Rainbow drew Brutal Honesty again to let them have it with both pistols as Blake recovered Gambol Shroud.

"You ready, Blake?" Rainbow called out.

Blake switched Gambol Shroud back into its sword mode. "Ready!"

Rainbow unfurled the Wings of Harmony, spreading out on either side of her as she sheathed her machine pistols. She kicked a stormvermin who got too close, then wrapped one arm around Blake's waist before she kicked off the ground, carrying them back up off the ground and onto the rampart.

The Atlesian troops were still cheering.

"Bravo, both of you!" Rarity declared. "That was magnificent!"

"I think," Colonel Harper said from behind them, "that it may be fairly said that the two of you have distinguished yourselves here."

Rainbow turned around. "Just doing our part, ma'am."

Colonel Harper nodded. "Keep up the good work," she said. She raised her voice to add, "But don't get cocky now; there are a lot more where that came from."

Indeed, scarcely sooner had Rainbow and Blake regained the rampart then they saw more goliaths bearing down upon the Atlesian defences, and these goliaths were not alone. These grimm were learning quickly; they weren't just advancing on the defences and letting the beowolves and the ursai dog their heels while they waited for a gap to open up in the defences, no. No, as the goliaths strode forwards, the beowolves leapt up at and onto them, claws digging into the black flesh of the larger grimm as though the two kinds had suddenly become enemies and the beowolves wanted to bring the goliaths down themselves and tear them to pieces, never mind waiting for the Atlesians to do it for them. But the goliaths didn't fight back, they didn't reach around with their trunks to pull the beowolves away, they didn't try and shake them off, they bore their attacks without response, because it soon became clear that they weren't even attacks at all. The beowolves were scaling the sides of the goliaths, mounting them, clambering up onto their backs where they secured themselves with the claws of their hind paws and clung on, waving their forelegs as the goliaths carried them towards the Atlesian line like black, monstrous subway trains.

Next stop on the Battle Line: Atlesian Rampart.

Some of the beowolves died on the way, shot down off the backs of the goliaths by the Atlesian troops; at least one goliath that Rainbow saw had all its beowolf passengers swept away, picked clean by the fire that raked across the creature's back; even Colonel Harper was firing, her pistol cracking with a sharp report. But though the beowolves might die, the goliaths, mostly, lived. The enormous grimm could even stand up to the shots from the main guns of a Paladin; it took a direct hit from the lasers of a spider droid — that had to be equipped with lasers in the first place, obviously — to penetrate a goliath's thick skull from the front and burn through its body; that, or a hit from above from one of their supporting cruisers. But the supporting fire from the air was starting to slacken off, just a little bit.

It wasn't gone, not by any means — the bombers were still out there, Sky Bolts strafing the grimm horde with their Tempest cannons, doing their best to thin the grimm ranks as they stormed up towards the front line — but the flying grimm were hurling themselves against the cruisers; when Rainbow looked up, it seemed like they were ignoring the fighters, not caring how many nevermores or griffons died in the process so long as they could swarm the cruisers. At times, the Atlesian warships were almost hidden from view from the ground because of all the black wings swirling around them; she could mostly tell where the cruisers were because of the fire from the point defence systems. The cruisers could hold their own, Rainbow was sure, but it just meant that laser fire lancing down to the ground to burn away the grimm, volleys of missiles, bombs, they were becoming a rarer sight than they had been when the battle had started, and the Atlesians were more reliant on their ground artillery, their spiders and their mortars, than they had been when the battle began.

The artillery was firing long, or at least they weren't dropping many shells or rockets beyond the ditches that Colonel Harper's troops had dug; Rainbow could understand why: even with robots and computers doing the aiming, there was always a risk, and nobody wanted to die because a spider droid had dropped a shell on the Atlesians' own position, but it meant that if the goliaths — or the cyclopes, who were also serving in the siege tower role with beowolves climbing up their legs and backs; the cyclopes were easier to shoot down than the goliaths, but while they lived, the grimm they carried were more protected from fire — could just get past the ditches and stride over the grimm who had filled them up, then there wasn't much more that could touch them on their way to the rampart.

And while the grimm they carried were not so invulnerable there were always more of them, more beowolves to scramble up the sides of the goliaths, more beowolves to be carried through the barbed wire and the obstacles towards the Atlesian line.

More beowolves to leap off the backs of the goliaths and onto the rampart, landing between startled Atlesian soldiers or landing on them, bearing them off the rampart and down to the ground below.

Rainbow ran to where the closest group of beowolves had landed, a rainbow streaking after her as she sprinted across the outer edge of the earth barrier, firing her machine pistols at the last couple of beowolves still waiting on the back of the goliath — she hit one; the other jumped — before holstering them both and pulling Undying Loyalty over her shoulder.

The closest beowolf was standing over an Atlesian soldier, teeth bared, claws drawn back. Rainbow hit it in a flying kick that went right through its chest before she landed in the middle of grimm and soldiers alike. She shot a beowolf, pumped another round into her shotgun and fired again before another beowolf lunged towards her. Rainbow reversed Undying Loyalty and hit the grimm on the jaw with the butt of the weapon; the beowolf recoiled, and Rainbow hit it again, and a third time before its bone mask broke and it began to dissolve.

A cry of alarm made Rainbow turn around to see a soldier have their chest raked by the claws of a beowolf, scoring their armour, though drawing no blood — yet. The soldier fell back, stumbling, landing on the edge of the rampart.

Rainbow reversed her shotgun again and shot the beowolf in the back. The grimm lurched forwards, falling over dead on the soldier it had been about to make its prey.

The Atlesian soldier made a moaning sound of fear and disgust as it tried to push the decaying — but not decaying fast enough — beowolf off of him.

Rainbow reached down with one hand and pulled the remains of the creature off, throwing it down off the rampart behind.

"Hey!"

Rainbow looked over the rampart to see Neon down there, trailing rainbows of her own as she despatched the beowolves who had jumped clean over the rampart to land behind it.

"Sorry," Rainbow called down to her.

She was about to offer a hand to help the soldier up when she felt something snag her from behind, something tightly wrapped around her waist: the trunk of the goliath. It picked her up and lifted her clean off the rampart, red eyes burning as it squeezed.

Rainbow winced at the tightening around her waist, her aura flaring as it absorbed the squeezing sensation and let Rainbow Dash know it. She fired Undying Loyalty downwards at the goliath, but it did nothing to the big grimm; it didn't even seem to annoy it enough to smash Rainbow into the ground or throw her somewhere, much less let her go. Those red eyes kept on glaring up at Rainbow as the goliath's black trunk squeezed her and squeezed her, crushing Rainbow's aura beneath its grip.

Blake stood on the edge of the earth rampart and slashed with Gambol Shroud at the empty air. Her aura burst from the blade in a purple shockwave that sliced horizontally through the air and into the goliath's trunk.

Rainbow didn't know exactly how much aura Blake had put into that attack, but it was enough to sever the trunk completely from the goliath's head. The goliath screamed in pain, staggering backwards a few earth-shaking steps. Rainbow fell downwards, the severed trunk dissolving around her; it was all ashes by the time she landed on her back with a thud.

Blake offered a hand to help her up.

Rainbow took it. "Thanks."

"No problem," Blake said. "How's—?"

She was interrupted by a bellow of rage from the injured goliath as it stormed forwards, not waiting for any more beowolves to climb up on top of it, just moving as fast as it could to slam its bony white tusks into the earth rampart. A soldier squawked in alarm as he was knocked off the parapet — thankfully, it wasn't a particularly high drop, but it would still hurt — while others were luckier but were still thrown off balance. Rainbow and Blake were both knocked sideways, shuddering and scrambling for footing as the earth moved beneath them.

The goliath didn't breach the rampart in a single hit, but it did jar the whole section of the barrier, shifting the earth backwards like a little U from the rest of the line. Dirt fell away to the front of the barrier in clods and clumps as the goliath retreated for another run-up.

One of Rarity's blue diamond barriers appeared between the goliath and the damaged section of the rampart.

"I'm not sure how long I can hold something of this size, darlings, so please feel free to kill that brute quickly," Rarity said, grimacing a little as she spoke.

The goliath rammed Rarity's diamond, and cracks began to spread all along the sapphire blue surface.

"Any time," Rarity said.

Rainbow was about to suggest to Blake that they trip this one up too, but Starlight was already ahead of them. She leapt off the rampart, Equaliser turning from gun to polearm in her hands as she flew through the air towards the goliath. She didn't quite make it, but she came close enough to ram Equaliser's blade into the goliath's flank, hanging from the metallic pole like a gymnast. The goliath seemed to like that less than it had the claws of the beowolves digging into its side; it trumpeted angrily, shaking itself, trying to reach with the trunk that it no longer had; beowolves started to climb up its legs to get at Starlight.

Starlight's expression was unfazed; she looked utterly focussed as she swung on the pole, swinging a full one-eighty until she was perched on the pole by her hands, then pushing herself up off of the pole — pulling it out of the goliath's flesh as she went — and spinning in the air to land sitting down on the goliath's back, legs spread apart on either side of its oily black form.

As the beowolves climbed up the massive grimm, Starlight slammed Equaliser into the vulnerable spot behind the goliath's skull.

The goliath's head jerked upwards as it let out one last scream of pain and anger before it began to fall sideways. Starlight suddenly found that sitting was not the best posture to get away from the dying grimm, but she managed to tumble off and onto one of Rarity's waiting diamonds, one of a trio of well-placed platforms which dissolved as soon as Starlight had leapt from one to the other and then back to the rampart.

The goliath fell to the ground, crushing beowolves beneath it. Its ashes started to drift lazily away.

Rainbow whooped as the Atlesian troops cheered for Starlight as they had cheered for Rainbow not long before.

Their cheers were cut off by the sound of an explosion above. Rainbow's head jerked upwards to see one of their cruisers exploding in a great ball of fire, fire that consumed the grimm around, fire that shot burning debris like shooting stars across the sky. Fighters and bombers twisted in the air to avoid the wreckage; the nearest other cruiser slid sideways away from the explosion; the Atlesian troops and huntsmen dropped to their knees or bellies as the remains of a once proud and mighty ship descended on them.

Debris landed on either side of the line of defence. A piece of metal sheared a goliath's head clean off as it sliced through grimm flesh as easily as it cut through air; another piece shaped like a jagged knife pierced the armour of a Paladin, driving into the mech's chest as the walker toppled over onto its back. Men cried out in fear or pain, just as grimm did.

"Medic!" came the cry from more than once voice, but all from behind the rampart; not a single piece of metal, not a single fragment of the ship had landed directly on the defences; either the grimm in front or the men and machines behind had borne the brunt of it.

"Stand up, soldiers!" cried Colonel Harper, who had not flinched as the debris began to fall, who had not even cringed as flaming fragments of metal landed all around her. "Someone check on the pilot of that machine."

As soldiers leapt to obey her command, Colonel Harper looked upwards, to where the ship had hung just a moment earlier. Rainbow wondered which ship it had been. There were four cruisers in the Fourth Squadron, four cruisers per squadron: Courageous, Vigilant, Resolution, and their old friend Gallant which had come with them to Vale near the very start of the year and provided them with invaluable fire support in their battle at the docks. Resolution had been damaged by the Valish and left to mind the shop around the Amity Arena. That meant that the ship that had just been lost had been one of Courageous, Vigilant, or Gallant. From below, it was impossible to tell which of the three it was.

But one of them was down, and down with all hands too, by the looks of things. There were no sign of any escape pods, just debris flung across the landscape.

Rainbow looked down, her magenta-eyed gaze returning to Colonel Harper, catching her in a moment where her eyes were closed and she seemed to shrink visibly, to look more tired as though, in an instant, she'd stayed up for a couple of nights straight without even unhealthy amounts of coffee to sustain her. And then she opened her eyes again, and almost grew before Rainbow's eyes once more, weariness banished once again, the Colonel of the Fourth Battalion returned, inviolate and unyielding.

"Don't let them die in vain!" she shouted. "Do not let that loss be for nothing! Hold the line! Fight for the Fourth! Fight for the Gallant!"

The Gallant. So they had lost the Gallant. The ship that had come to Vale first, that had ferried them across the sea to fetch Penny home all those months ago.

She had been a good ship.

"I need to report to General Ironwood," Colonel Harper announced as she began to descend from the rampart. "Hold the line, soldiers of the Fourth. Keep up your fire, and they won't break through. Hold fast!"

And they did hold fast. The grimm hurled themselves against the ramparts and the walls, but they did not break through. Goliaths and cyclopes carried beowolves up to the ramparts, and those that reached the line swept the ramparts with their trunks, swatting soldiers aside or picking them up and crushing them in vice-like grips; cyclopes reached out with meaty hands to grab soldiers too slow to get out of their way, or do as the goliaths did and sweep them across the top of the wall to catch anyone standing or lying there. Beowolves leapt down from the backs of the goliaths and the cyclopes, while ursai dug their claws into the dirt and concrete and tried to climb up.

But the line was held regardless. Cyclopes were brought down by rockets, or by the fire of Paladins who also raked the backs of the goliaths with volleys of missiles. Rifles and machine guns swept the goliaths’ backs to kill the beowolves, while huntsmen sallied out beyond the line to kill the goliaths before they got too close, those that weren't eviscerated by laser fire from the Paladins. Bullets rained down from the top of the rampart down on the ursai trying to climb up.

Flynt used his semblance to create three copies of himself, and four copies of his trumpet blasted out sonic waves that sent beowolves flying off a goliath's back. Sunburst did the same thing with gusts of wind dust from his staff. Maud ripped a goliath's tusk off — she was freakishly strong, considering that it wasn't even her semblance — when one came close enough, then stabbed it in the eye with its own tusk before it could dissolve. Trixie unleashed a wave of flame out of her wand that might not have killed the goliath itself but burned up everything and every grimm around it. Rarity lithely dodged a cyclops' fumbling hands and stabbed it in its one enormous eye, then Blake cut its head off while it was reeling. Rainbow and Neon dashed up and down the line, helping to repel any boarders who managed to leap from their living siege towers onto the rampart itself.

The grimm kept coming. They kept coming and coming like there was no end to them, like all the grimm that walked on the surface of Remnant had come to Vale and were running into the Atlesian fire as if they could overwhelm it with sheer numbers, bury them beneath a tide of black bodies. There were so many grimm, and they just kept coming, but the Atlesians, the soldiers of the Fourth, the huntsmen and huntresses of Atlas, held them back no matter how many there were, threw them back, turned their charges to ashes and smoke.

If the grimm hadn't decayed, if the grimm had stayed where they were dead, and each new grimm who came up, each new beowolf and new goliath had to walk across the dead of all their previous failed efforts, might they have stopped to think twice? Might it have given them pause, the way that every grimm that had come before them had ended up dead?

Probably not; grimm were smarter than they looked, but they weren't people; even so, Rainbow would have kinda liked them to have to climb over the bodies of their own dead; it would have meant they had a harder time reaching the Atlesian line.

"Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, "General Ironwood is calling."

Rainbow fired Undying Loyalty, blowing the head off an ursa before it could top the rampart, before stepping back from the edge. "Put him on."

"Dash," General Ironwood said, his voice emerging from behind Rainbow as though she'd missed him sneaking up on her during the fighting. "I've got a job for you."

"Sir," Rainbow said. "What's the assignment?"

"I take it you know the Valish have broken and the grimm have overrun half the Green Line," General Ironwood said.

"Hard to miss, sir," Rainbow replied. "But they don't seem to be rounding on us; they're still coming from the front."

"So Colonel Harper tells me, but how long will that last?" asked General Ironwood. "And in the meantime, they're pressing hard against the Beacon and Haven students who've been caught on open ground. The Mistralian forces are providing what support they can, but I'm worried about them."

Penny. The one good thing in what General Ironwood had said was that the Beacon students hadn't been overrun when the Valish line collapsed, by the sounds of it. Either they'd fallen back, or else they'd run with the Valish soldiers only to rally when they met up with the Haven students and the Mistralian troops. Honestly, while they would have been leaving the Atlesian flank hanging — not that they hadn't ended up doing that anyway; it wasn't as though the two forces had joined hands together — they might have been best served to have kept on falling back all the way to the Red Line, where they had a wall between them and the grimm pursuit. Instead … well, Rainbow wasn't there, so she couldn't say exactly what had happened — maybe they'd stood their ground; maybe they'd thought they could make it to the Green Line, only the grimm had overrun it first; maybe they'd been trying to fall back, but the grimm were faster than expected — but the bottom line was that the grimm horde had made contact in the open country, without any of the defences that the Atlesians were leveraging to hold them off.

It was kind of a testament to the skill of Penny, Pyrrha, Ruby, and all the rest that General Ironwood was only worried about them, rather than telling Rainbow that they'd been swallowed up by a black wave already.

But the General was absolutely right to be worried. He was making Rainbow a little worried too.

Pyrrha will look after Penny. They'll watch each other's backs.

That'll do them a lot of good when they're back to back and there's nothing but grimm as far as the eye can see.

"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't fast enough."

"What are your orders, sir?" Rainbow asked, wondering why General Ironwood was telling her this. She wasn't sure what she could do on her own to help Penny now, unless General Ironwood wanted her to get Penny out, which … Penny probably wouldn't like, even if the offer did include Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby too, and if it did, they probably wouldn't take it.

So what was she supposed to do, apart from worry?

"I want you to take Belladonna and Soleil, find the Apex Alpha leading the horde on the right flank, and kill it," General Ironwood announced. "Doing that won't stop the grimm, but it will disrupt their cohesion and should take some of the pressure off our allies and our own flank."

That was … okay, that was not what Rainbow had been expecting General Ironwood to ask of her. It was bold, to say the least, and more than a bit risky, too.

Worth it for the reward, though. And doing nothing…

Penny.

Without the Atlesian defences and advantages, without the airships and the spiders and the Paladins, facing the grimm in the open in a stand up fight, with the numbers being what they were…

"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't fast enough."

Doing something about that was worth the risk.

Of course, there was the problem of not actually knowing where the Apex Alpha was, but General Ironwood had told her — them — to find it.

"Yes, sir, I'll get it done," Rainbow said. "But I'll need a Skyray." Searching from the air would be a bit of a risk, but it would certainly be a lot easier and a lot less risky than trying to move through the grimm hordes on the ground to find one of their leaders. "No pilot, I'll fly it myself and hand off to an android when necessary." She would hand it off to Midnight, at least; that ought to make the computer happy after a night of feeling like Rainbow's secretary.

"Understood, I'll have one dispatched at once; it'll meet you on the landing ground," General Ironwood said, not questioning her decision to fly the airship personally. "Get moving as soon as it arrives." He paused. "Good luck. Ironwood out."

"Sir," Rainbow said, unsure of whether the General had actually heard her or not. She supposed it didn't matter too much either way.

The job was what mattered now.

"Blake! Ciel!" Rainbow shouted. "Come with me! Rarity," — she stepped close towards her — "I need you to stay here, stick close to Team Tsunami; they'll look after you. Starlight, Trixie, you don't mind having Rarity around, do you?"

"Nope," Starlight said, firing a burst of shots from Equaliser. "The more the merrier."

"I can't come with you?" Rarity asked softly.

"No," Rainbow said. "I'm afraid not, not this time."

Rarity nodded, a kind of small nod, but it was there. "But you will come back," she said. "Won't you?"

"Of course," Rainbow said. "Right back, fast as we can." She patted her on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

She slung Undying Loyalty across her back as she descended the rampart.

Colonel Harper was nearby and coming in their direction. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

Rainbow saluted. "Ma'am, General Ironwood has just ordered us to carry out a new assignment."

Colonel Harper was silent for a moment. "I see," she murmured. "I suppose it must be something important."

"I hope so, ma'am," Rainbow replied.

"Then you'd best get to it," Colonel Harper said. "You'll be missed, but orders are orders. Good hunting, cadets."

"Ma'am," Rainbow said, saluting again before moving on, heading back the way that they'd all come at the start of the battle, past the triage tent, past the battalion headquarters where the androids still stood with the Colours, past the Knights still playing their martial music, following the path strewn with lights towards the landing area where their Skyray would soon arrive.

She kept her pace to a speed at which Blake and Ciel could keep pace with her, and they both drew level.

"An assignment?" Blake asked. "What could be more important than this?" She paused. "Is it Amber? Is it—?"

"No," Rainbow said. "No, it's not that. General Ironwood wants us to find and destroy the Apex Alpha leading the horde on the other side of the battlefield. They might try and turn our flank, and they are pressing the Beacon and Haven students hard, but if we can kill the boss of the horde, that will relieve some of the pressure on Penny and the others."

"Understood," Ciel said. "Although that is a tall order."

"But not impossible," Blake said. "Or an unsound concept. I've done it before."

"Right, that was the time when you lured away half the Apex Alpha's bodyguards all by yourself, wasn't it?" Rainbow asked. She remembered the story coming out that night they'd spent out in Vale with Lady Belladonna.

"Someone had to do something," Blake said. "It was necessary to even the odds for Weiss, Yang, and Sunset."

"Maybe it was, I wasn't there, but it was also a very you thing to do, and we'll try and stop that being necessary this time," Rainbow muttered. "I've got an airship coming; once it arrives, we're going to fly over the grimm, dodging any flying grimm obviously, towards the rear of the horde; that's where the Apex Alpha should be. Once we find it … well, how we kill it kind of depends on what kind of a grimm it is, doesn't it? Ideally, we'd hit it from the air, but it probably won't be that simple. Assuming it isn't, Ciel will provide covering fire from the Skyray while Blake and I drop down and engage the grimm on the ground. I'm sure we can figure out the details once we know what it is that we have to fight."

"It'll be well protected, whatever kind of grimm it is," Blake said. "The horde we faced, the four of us, was tiny compared to the number of grimm facing us tonight, but the Apex Alpha was still defended by a company of bodyguards, all of them alphas in their own right. This may not be easy."

"No," Rainbow agreed. "But however easy or hard it is, General Ironwood is counting on us, and so is Penny, even if she doesn't know it, so we'll find our way through, agreed?"

"Agreed," Ciel said at once.

"Agreed," Blake said, a little more softly but every bit as firmly.

They reached the landing zone, having gone past the mortars and the spider droids, where shells and missiles flew in waves. When they arrived, the landing zone was half empty, and the half that was full was occupied by Skyrays that were either waiting or else were transporting wounded up to the medical frigate for further treatment.

They were waiting, but not for long, before another Skyray flew into view, the lights on its wings illuminating the airship as it dropped vertically down to land in the centre of the landing zone.

The side doors opened. Rainbow climbed in, and in a couple of steps had reached the cockpit. There was no pilot, only a Knight in the co-pilot's seat.

"I think this is us," Rainbow called to the others. She sat down in the pilot's chair, strapping herself in. "Midnight," she said, "if I have to get out and fight, you'll be the one flying the airship."

"You mean I might finally get to do something other than handle your calls tonight?" Midnight asked.

"Yes, if you're lucky."

"Yes!" Midnight cried. "I can fly right now, if you like."

"Let's save that for later, okay?" Rainbow asked. "I'd like to keep my own hands on the controls for now. Is everyone in?"

"Affirmative," Ciel answered from behind her.

"Okay then," Rainbow said, closing the doors. "Let's hunt an Apex Alpha."

The guns of the Dingyuan blazed overhead, firing not down at the grimm on the ground but at the grimm that swarmed in the air above, around the Mistralian battleship. Nevermores, griffons, teryxes, they threw themselves against the great airship, talons and claws reaching out for it. The ship's guns blazed in all directions, and many grimm perished in the flames of the explosions as shells burst in the air, so many shells that the Dingyuan seemed at times to be surrounded by a shield of fire; but for all the fire, for all the shells, for all the blazing of so many guns, the grimm were getting through. Not many, perhaps, but some nonetheless, some grimm who clawed at the hull, who tore at the armour, who were starting to open up the ship like a tin of beans for breakfast. Could the crew defend the ship from the inside if the grimm started getting in? Could the grimm actually get inside? Not the teryxes, for sure — at least, Yang didn't think so; why would anyone build the corridors on a ship big enough for grimm that size to fit in? — and probably not the big nevermores either, but the griffons? Maybe they could, and then … could the crew defend the ship against them when they got inside? Would it matter, if the grimm didn't need to 'get inside' when they could just tear the ship apart from the outside?

Either way, Yang didn't think it was looking all that great for the ship; when the battle had started, when they'd first rounded on the grimm, then the fire of all those big guns had been a welcome assist, but now … now, it had been a while since they had any fire support from the ship, and while Yang wasn't an Atlesian to feel like she needed a big ship to cover her, the fact was that it had been welcome, especially since the Mistralian troops didn't seem to be packing anything big enough to hurt the really big grimm, and there were just a lot of grimm to worry about.

A lot of grimm, and a number of huntsmen and huntresses that hadn't been huge to begin with and was only getting smaller.

Yang kind of felt, as she looked down from the skies and punched out a couple of ursai until they were dead, like she was being ungrateful by complaining about the numbers. After all, there were a lot of students here; even if Yang couldn't have told you most of their names, there were still more of them than a huntress would expect to find herself fighting alongside most of the time. Considering that, as a rule, a team of four was as good as it got for the average mission, having a big group like this all fighting together — ship or no, troops or no — that was better than anyone had any right to expect.

But just because it was good didn't mean that it was enough.

It ought to be possible to win this fight. Professor Ozpin had won at Ozpin's Stand, right? He'd led the huntsmen and the huntresses — and some of the students too, like Mom and Dad and Uncle Qrow — out to defend Vale, and they'd met the grimm … Yang really wished that they'd gotten to this in Doctor Oobleck's class, but they hadn't, so she was left to wrack her brains for the memories of Uncle Qrow's stories and primer history books from the first year of combat school for the site of the battle. Nowhere that had a name already, or they wouldn't have called it Ozpin's Stand. Somewhere between Vale and Mountain Glenn. Anyway, the point was that he'd met the grimm there, they'd all met the grimm there, and they'd beaten them. They'd met the grimm on the open ground, and they hadn't had any airships or soldiers — Atlas had refused to help them out, Yang remembered that much, and the Council had concentrated all the Defence Forces tight around Vale, writing off everywhere else — just huntsmen and huntresses with a lot of guts. And yet, they'd won. They'd beaten the horde, with no tricks, no help, no defences, just a fight out in the open, grimm vs. huntsmen, and the huntsmen had won.

It ought to be possible for them to repeat the trick here, but on the evidence of how it was going so far, Yang had to admit that it wasn't looking likely.

Yang roared as she punched a beowolf's head clean off.

It wasn't as though they weren't trying their best; they were, they really were.

A deathstalker advanced, bearing down straight towards Yang, pincers snapping at the empty air.

Yang threw a couple of shadow punches at it, shots firing from Ember Celica; they glanced harmlessly off its armour, but that was fine by Yang; she just wanted to keep the grimm's attention on her. "That's it, come on, come and get me," she muttered, grinning like a fiend — or a loon — as she made a 'come hither' gesture with one hand. "Come on." She raised her voice. "Ruby, take the stinger! Nora, give her a boost."

"You got it!" Nora replied cheerfully, putting down her hammer for a second and picking up Ruby instead, throwing the taller but lighter girl through the air before she could do anything but squawk in alarm.

Ruby flew through the air, red cape flying out behind her, rose petals falling, dragging Crescent Rose after her as she zoomed past the deathstalker and sliced through its stinger in a single clean blow. The golden stinger dropped down onto the deathstalker's bleached armour plates, getting stuck in between them. The deathstalker started wriggling, like it was trying to dislodge the sting.

"Nora, hit it!" Yang commanded.

Nora cackled. Yang charged for the deathstalker, firing as she went, Ember Celica blazing as she punched the empty air in front of her repeatedly, keeping the deathstalker's eyes on her, only on her, and not at all on the redhead who had just picked her hammer back up off the ground.

The deathstalker lunged towards her, pincers snapping, but Nora had already leapt, hammer drawn back so far that Nora's body was contorted, back arched in what had to be at least a little painful, before she brought it down on the deathstalker's protruding sting, driving it down through the armour into the creature itself.

The deathstalker flopped down to the ground, its legs giving way beneath it.

Ruby slashed her way back to them, cutting through a few beowolves on the way. "I could have made that jump myself," she said.

"Maybe," Yang admitted. "But I wanted to be sure. So long as the grimm's dead, it doesn't matter how, right?"

Ruby took a breath. "Right," she said softly. "One down—"

"And a whole lot more to go!" Nora said, with a whole lot of enthusiasm considering what she'd just said.

A whole lot more grimm to go. So many more grimm to go that it didn't seem to matter how many they killed; there were always more of the things coming up to take their place. There had to be an end to them, right? There had to be a point at which the grimm just ran out?

It wasn't like every grimm in Remnant was here; even hordes had to have a limit, right?

So where was it? Why didn't it feel like they were reaching it at all?

The goliath alerted them to its coming with its trumpeting, with the huge sound it made as it stomped through the grimm, trampling down anything smaller than it — which was most grimm — on its way to get Team YRRN.

Ren fired at it, Stormflowers blazing, but the bullets just bounced off the goliath's skull like his guns were peashooters; the grimm didn't even seem to notice them.

It seemed more interested in Nora. Had it seen her taking out the deathstalker?

Nora prepared to meet the goliath, hammer raised.

Call it instinct, but Yang thought that was a bad idea.

"Nora, get back!" she shouted, even as she rushed to meet the goliath. She fired a couple of shots, but only a couple — she wanted to get its attention, but she didn't want to waste ammunition — as she charged, rushing past Nora, her blonde hair flying. She'd been kind of lucky so far in terms of taking hits, her semblance wasn't on very much, but maybe if she took a hit from this big boy, then it would charge her up enough that she could put a serious dent in it in turn.

The goliath kept on charging, head swaying a little back and forth. Its trunk swept at her.

Yang leapt over the black trunk as it came close — sure, she'd take a hit, but she'd rather not take one that sent her flying to the other side of the battlefield — and hit it as it passed underneath her. Hopefully, it hurt the goliath even though it didn't kill it.

As she landed on her feet, Yang reached out and grabbed the goliath's tusk. Both hands wrapped around the white bone. It was cold, really cold, icy cold, cold and slippery like something that had been in the freezer and now all the ice was starting to melt, and even with her black fingerless gloves on her hands, Yang had to fight to stop her hands from slipping.

The goliath trumpeted angrily, and Yang more than half-expected it to toss its head to try and toss her away.

It didn't.

Because Nora had hold of the other tusk.

The goliath's eyes blazed, redder than the markings on its skull as it tried to advance.

Yang braced herself, digging her heels into the grass on which she stood. She was forced back a little bit, the earth giving way beneath her, but not by much. She and Nora were where they were, and the goliath, that huge old grimm, could barely move them.

Put like that, it made them sound kind of awesome.

Which wasn't to say it was easy. Yang could feel the grimm's strength pressing down on her, trying to push her back, trying to throw her away. She had to hold on, hold on tight despite the slipperiness of the goliath's tusk. Her biceps bulged, and Nora's too, as they held on and pushed against the goliath.

The goliath tried to swing its trunk at Yang, but Ruby buried Crescent Rose into the trunk and down into the ground beneath, pinning it down. Ren dived between the goliath's legs, slashing at them with the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers, before turning his attention to the creeps who tried to come to the goliath's aid. He danced among the snapping, snarling grimm, shooting this one, stabbing that, kicking another hard enough to send it flying off into the night.

The goliath bellowed and roared; it kept pushing against Yang and Nora.

Yang and Nora pushed right back.

Yang heard the goliath's tusk crack.

A grin spread out across her face as she pushed even harder, muscles straining; she grunted and winced with the effort as she shoved against the goliath's tusk, putting her shoulder to it.

Nora's tusk broke first — it was ridiculous that someone so tiny could be stronger than Yang was — and the triumphant crowing as she pulled it away showed that Nora knew it too. Yang's came away a moment later, splintering and shattering, coming free with an enormous cracking sound.

Yang knew she didn't have long; the tusk would start to dissolve at any minute. She lunged forwards, Nora doing the same, the two of them diving underneath the goliath's bony head and driving the tusks like knives up into its throat.

Yang shoved the white tusk into the black flesh as far as it would go, pushing at it and pushing at it until there was barely any visible tusk left to push.

Then the goliath fell on her as it died.

Yang gasped as the mountain of blackness fell on her, but all that did was cause her mouth to fill with the stuff, choking her; she wanted to wretch, but she could not; she wanted to breathe even more, but she couldn't do that either. All she could do was fumble blindly, digging at the oily black substance with both hands, trying to shove it away, trying to burrow through it, hoping that it would dissolve already so that she could get out from underneath it.

A strong hand seized her, Nora's hand, pulling her out and free, then standing guard over her as Yang turned away, retreating a few paces from the battle and, under Nora's watch and protection, bending double and starting to cough and retch. She expelled the ash and decaying essence from her mouth, smoke passing from between her lips like she was some sort of dragon or something. Even after the smoke, even after she felt the ash leave, even after it saw it mingled with her saliva as it was expelled from her mouth, Yang could still feel something in there, clutching at her mouth, clogging up her throat. She gasped for breath, but through her wheezing throat and the strained sounds it made, she felt only a little air reach her lungs — a little air and so much else that no sooner had she clutched that breath then she was wracked with a cough that sent her whole body shuddering. Spittle, and worse than spittle, saliva and phlegm and nasty black stuff all bundled up together in a thick and cloying substance leapt out of her mouth in all directions, some landing on her knees and legs with a nasty sticky sensation. Yang's eyes were filled with water as she breathed in another wheezing, insufficient breath and coughed again, more spittle flying.

She felt someone slapping her back. It didn't really help, but she appreciated the effort.

Yang was bent double, gasping even as her throat felt a little clearer. A little clearer. There was still something in her mouth; she could see it dripping down out of her mouth onto the grass between her feet like she was a tap that couldn't be quite shut off properly.

Her mouth felt foul. She really wanted a drink of water, only she didn't have any.

A flask was proffered in her direction, held in a hand with a green sleeve.

"Here," Ren said. "Drink this."

Yang looked up into Ren's face, a kind smile on his face and no pity in his eyes. She took the flash. "You think of everything, don't you?" she asked.

"I try," Ren said softly, the smile on his face not growing by a millimetre.

Yang drank, swallowing the swig of water, and with it probably at least some of the awful stuff in her mouth. Her stomach might not like it, but it did make her mouth feel a little better.

"Thanks," she said, handing the flask back to him. "Remind me in future not to get underneath a grimm I'm about to kill."

Ren nodded.

Yang took another breath, a deeper breath than she'd managed recently.

One down, and a lot more to go.

They were killing grimm. The monsters were dying before them, all around them, it wasn't as though they weren't fighting hard because they were, they really were fighting hard. Arslan seemed to be seeking out the cyclopes on purpose, getting between their legs and hammering away at their shins until they went down. There was a Haven student with wall eyes — Yang knew she'd seen her before, in Professor Goodwitch's class, but she couldn't remember her name — who was able to dodge every blow the grimm aimed at her, even if it was only by the skin of her teeth, then hit back or kick back twice as hard, and she didn't have to hit very many of them twice. Sun's friend Neptune kept his two teammates covered with his gun, while their big green-haired teammate hacked away at ursai with his sword. Lucius Andronicus sprayed fire in all directions. Penny's laser might take a little longer to charge than was ideal, but once it was all charged up, it could take out a goliath in one shot, while her swords could slice through half a pack of beowolves in an instant. Coco laid about with her handbag, clobbering any grimm that came in reach. Pyrrha rushed from one side of the fighting to the other, her red sash and her red hair flying out behind her like she had her own special flag, fighting to shore up wherever things looked bad. Like right now, where she was tearing through a pack of boarbatusks, Miló switching from spear to sword then back again as she skewered one, gutted another, stabbed a third through the mouth as it roared at her, grabbed a fourth one by the tusks, and beat a fifth boarbatusk to death with its own fellow; you couldn't say she wasn't pulling her weight.

They were all pulling their weight. They were all doing the best they could, they were all killing grimm, but it wasn't enough.

It didn't feel like enough.

Not least because their numbers were going down. Velvet from Team CFVY, Lucius' other teammate whose name Yang still couldn't remember, others too, the injuries they were taking were starting to mount up, and there were people … Yang didn't know for sure they were dead, but there were people whom she couldn't see anymore, and they weren't amongst the wounded. And to make things worse, the wounded were still close by because there was no way to move them, and they couldn't send them back to Vale because they couldn't spare anyone to take them, and they couldn't fall back because that would expose the wounded, and so they were kind of stuck here, and nobody even really knew how the Mistralian troops were doing — was their fire getting less, or was Yang imagining that?

They should be able to win. But it didn't feel like they would, not now, not like—

An explosion, much louder than the ever-present shell bursts that had become commonplace, ripped through the air, tearing Yang's eyes back upwards towards the Mistralian battleship.

She looked up in time to see the fireball rip its way out of the ship from the inside, bursting the armour, throwing the plate and the guns off into the darkness. Sound aside, it didn't look like a huge explosion, especially not compared with the actual size of the ship, but the airship seemed to be kind of listing a little, leaning sideways, bow pointed downwards. It hung that way for a second, while the grimm still flew around it and tore more chunks of it, but then the ship began to drop.

It moved slowly at first, so that Yang wasn't sure right away that it was actually falling or it just looked as though it was, but then as it came closer, as it grew bigger in her eyes, as it picked up speed, there was no doubt at all that ship was about to hit the ground hard.

"Get out of the way!" Yang shouted, grabbing Ruby and carrying her as she ran away from the falling ship, away from where she thought it might — would — land.

She threw Ruby to the ground, then threw herself on top of her, covering her little sister with her body.

The Dingyuan hit the ground in the middle of the grimm; it started to explode as soon as its nose collided with the surface, explosions rippling up the giant airship like steps up a ladder, or like a ladder being folded up maybe, more and more of the battleship being folded up into the explosion as the metal crumpled until about halfway up or down the ship, there was an enormous explosion, so loud it deafened Yang for a second, so bright that the flash burned through her eyelids, so hot she felt the heat wash over her and singe her aura, while the shockwave picked up her hair and tried to rip it off her head; at least, that's what it felt like it was doing.

Yang looked up, scrambling off Ruby so that she could get up as Yang, too, got to her feet.

The Dingyuan was gone. In its place was a field of smouldering flames and burning debris, an open space turned into a labyrinth of bits of metal, twisted, jagged, some of them on fire, some of them still resembling a gun or a propeller shaft, some of them even managing to still look like a part of a compartment, one that was blackened and covered with ash. Though the fires lit up the night, Yang still couldn't see much because there was now so much debris in the way. But there was no sign of any grimm; those that were caught in the explosion must all be dead, but unless that explosion had turned out to be much, much bigger than it had felt or sounded, then there was no way that it had wiped out the whole horde. It was a lot down, but a lot more still to go, and the grimm would be back, Yang had no doubt. They'd be back, slinking through the wreckage, and the huntsmen would have to plunge into the maze of debris to fight them — and all the while with nevermores and griffons coming down on them from above.

But, for now, they had a little space to catch their breath. Even the flying grimm seemed to have retreated for a minute.

They had a little space to catch their breath, and to think.

There had to be a way. It had been done before, Professor Ozpin had done it, he'd stopped a horde—

And so did I. Come on, Yang! How did you miss that? You don't need to think about Professor Ozpin; you've stopped a horde yourself. Sure, it wasn't as big as this one, but the principle's the same!

"Nora! Ren!" Yang shouted. "Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, get over here!"

"What's up?" Ruby asked, sounding a little wary. Maybe she didn't want any more to do with her old team than she had to; that was unfortunate, and Yang was sorry that things had worked out the way that they had, she wished they'd gone better, but what she had in mind probably wasn't going to be easy, and they could use all the help they could get.

"You'll find out soon, once everyone gets here," Yang assured her.

They all come, Ren and Nora first, then the other members of Team SAPR — and Penny. They all looked kind of shocked by what had happened, with wide eyes and open mouths. Yang just hoped they weren't too shocked to pay attention.

"Okay, we can't just keep fighting them like this," Yang said. "We'll run out of aura before they run out of grimm. But I've got an idea: we're going to sneak around the edge of the horde, to the rear, find the Apex Alpha, and kill it. That will mean … maybe they won't disperse right away, but they'll stop coming at us so … single-mindedly, I guess. I hope they will, anyway; there'll just be packs of grimm, and they'll cover the area, but they'll be a lot easier to fight off, tonight and in the future."

"Like the leadership exercise from the start of the year," Ruby said.

"Yes, exactly!" Yang cried. "Me, Sunset, Weiss, and Blake found our way around the horde, found the Apex Alpha, and took it out, and the rest of the horde dispersed; it worked then, it will work now."

"Sunset came to rue that decision," Pyrrha murmured. "She said you barely escaped with your lives, and only thanks to Professor Goodwitch's intervention."

"Sunset … wasn't wrong about that," Yang admitted, running one hand through her hair. "But how long do you think that we can just keep this up? Does anyone have a better idea?"

"Do you really think it'll work?" Nora asked softly. "I get that you want to do something, but doing something that won't work just because it seems like the only option—"

"It will work," Yang insisted. "It might work," she corrected herself. "I mean, I can't offer any guarantees, we are talking about the top grimm of the horde, it might be too strong for us, it might be too well guarded, but we're still just talking about one grimm and its bodyguards, not fighting off endless waves of grimm until they're all dead or we are. I'm not saying that it will be easy, I'm not even saying that the odds are fantastic — this will be tough, even finding the Apex Alpha will be a challenge — but this is something that has been proven to work, and it means that that their numbers, their big advantage over us, won't count for so much. It won't be easy, but it is our best shot all the same."

There was a moment of silence.

"How would we get around the grimm?" asked Jaune, softly.

"Ren's semblance lets him mask emotions, hide people from the grimm; they can't sense them," Yang explained. "Especially with your help, I think he can conceal all of us if he has to. Then it's just a matter of staying out of sight of the grimm as we work our way around their flank and behind them. That's the way we did it last time."

"Makes sense," Ruby said. "This might be our best chance to save Vale. Otherwise … we can stand here and fight until we get overrun and we all die, but Vale will be in just as much danger as it was before."

Nora's jaw tightened, before she said, "I'm in."

"We're in," Ren corrected her.

"And…" Penny began. "And us too. If we work together, that increases our chances of completing the mission. And getting out again."

Okay, Yang thought. They've gone for it, that was easy.

Easier than doing it, that's for sure.

She was not blind to Pyrrha's concern. Sunset had turned it to a bit of an old worrywart over the last year, the fire that had driven her to daring risks at the year's beginning all snuffed out — the Sunset who suggested that they should throw the dice on trying to take out the Apex Alpha rather than meeting the horde head on had died sometime … it had been the fight at the docks that had killed her. Adam's sword had killed that Sunset when it sliced into Ruby's side. Yang found that she could hardly blame her for that, for all that the old Sunset had been more fun — but she'd had a point about what happened to them last time. If Professor Goodwitch hadn't shown up when she did, then they would have been in real trouble. Ten out of ten for courage, five out of ten for good sense, as Professor Goodwitch had said at the time. But, in addition to the inarguable point about them not having any better options, there was no reason why they couldn't do better this time around, learn from their mistakes.

The big mistake being, of course, that none of the four of them had given any thought to how they would escape once they had killed the Apex Alpha.

Yang, on the other hand, had thought about it: they had Ren's semblance, which would stop the grimm from picking up on their scent, and they would have speed as well.

"To the southeast, I'm sure I spotted a car that was ditched by the Valish soldiers. Provided that it hasn't been destroyed in that explosion just now, we can use it to move quickly around the grimm and get behind them — and get out again when we're done."

"That won't be quiet," Jaune warned.

"No, but I'll take the risk," Yang replied. "Pyrrha's right; last time, we didn't have a plan to get out, and we nearly paid for it; well, this is my plan to get out: by putting pedal to the metal."

Jaune nodded. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Are we all agreed then?" Yang asked. "Because we shouldn't—"

"I think Pyrrha should stay here," Ruby interrupted. "If the Mistralians see her leaving, then they might think that she's running away, and they could lose heart. We don't want them to break and run the way the Valish soldiers did."

Pyrrha stiffened.

"It's nothing personal," Ruby went on quickly. "It just … makes sense."

Pyrrha breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling. "I hate the fact you may be right."

"I'm not thrilled about it myself," muttered Yang. She'd been kind of hoping to have Pyrrha's skills on their side for this, it would have certainly made things a little easier; she'd been a little bit counting on it, to be perfectly honest. They could manage without her, Yang was sure, but it would be harder, and Yang would have rather had Pyrrha on her side.

That said … Ruby made some sense. The high regard — the excessively high regard — in which Pyrrha was held by the Mistralians, meant that they might take it the wrong way if they saw her walking off into the night, and it wasn't like they had time to explain to everyone where they were going and what they were up to.

It made sense for her to stay.

But quite apart from the fact that it would make their lives more difficult, it was also a tough thing to ask of Pyrrha. So tough that even if Yang had thought about it, she probably wouldn't have been able to ask it. She didn't have … Yang wasn't sure what to call what Ruby had that let her be so blunt to Pyrrha like this.

"I could really use Penny and Jaune's help with this," Yang murmured.

Pyrrha nodded, the movement was stiff, like her golden gorget was constraining her neck. "Of course," she whispered. She locked eyes with Yang. "Take care of them."

"There is no world where I come back and they don't," Yang said. "You have my word on that."

"I don't want your death," Pyrrha whispered. "I want their lives."

"I know," Yang said. "But I'm offering you the most I can promise for sure."

Jaune gripped the red sash around his waist with one hand. With the other hand, he reached towards her. "Pyrrha—"

She turned away. "Indulge me in a touch of superstition," she said. "If we say no farewells, then we are sure to meet again. Besides, you are in haste, and I would not delay you with a long goodbye."

"Right," Jaune muttered, looking away for a second, looking down at the hilt of his sword and at the sash around his waist. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the back of the neck before he stepped away.

Penny wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist and held her for a second, maybe two. Pyrrha's hands, drifted up to brush against Penny's hands, Pyrrha's fingers upon her knuckles, before Penny let go.

"Okay then," Yang said. "Everyone follow me, before the grimm come back."

They did all follow her, all save Pyrrha, whom they left standing there. She wasn't watching them, or at least Yang thought that she wasn't, but when she looked over her shoulder, she found that, no, Pyrrha was watching; maybe she'd started watching as soon as their backs were turned. She kept on watching, Yang could feel her gaze on her all the way.

And she wasn't the only one watching them. They caught the eyes of other students, although no one challenged them as they headed away from the others, away from the Mistralian camp, out into the darkness in the direction — hopefully, it was hard to tell in the dark — where she'd seen the abandoned car.

There! There it was! She could see it now: an armoured car, painted green with a red fox painted on the front door. It was square, boxy, and sturdy-looking, as well it might, considering it was armoured. It looked big too, with room for all six of them inside. There was a machine gun on the roof, with a hole in said roof to access it.

It was also stuck in a ditch, which was presumably why it had been abandoned in the first place.

But what was stuck for ordinary people wasn't necessarily stuck for huntresses, and Yang called Nora to help her. The two ran up ahead of the others and put their hands upon the car's front.

"One," Yang said. "Two, three!"

They both heaved; the car resisted for a second, the weight pushing back on them. But this armoured car was nothing, nothing at all compared to a goliath, and a second later, it began to move, and in no time at all, the two of them had pushed it out of the ditch and onto the grass.

Yang climbed into the front seat. She wasn't sure if anyone else could drive, but since she knew she could drive — she didn't drive cars very often, but Dad had shown her how — there was no point asking anybody else.

Instead of a key, there was a push button.

Result!

The others got in. Penny took the other seat up front next to Yang, leaving Ruby, Ren, Nora, and Jaune in the back, with two seats still spare.

"Do you want anyone on the gun?" asked Nora.

"Not yet," Yang replied. "And Ren, save your semblance for when we need it, okay? No point in you and Jaune using up all your aura too soon."

"Understood," Ren said.

Yang pushed the ignition key. The car started smoothly, the engine giving off a muscular growl. It was a little louder than she would have liked, but it certainly sounded powerful, and that … that wasn't bad at all.

She wouldn't want to try and make their escape in some sputtering old wreck, after all.

"Let's do this," she muttered, pressing down on the accelerator and turning the steering wheel. The car turned at her command, and soon, they were heading away from their fellow students and into the countryside that had been overrun and belonged to the grimm now.

They drove off into the darkness and were lost to sight.

Apex (New)

Apex

Team TTSS — and Maud and Rarity — heard the soldiers of the Third Battalion before they saw them. Despite the sounds of the battle raging in front of them, despite the howling of the grimm, despite the roaring of the shells and the missiles as they passed overhead, despite the snapping of the rifles and the barking of the machine guns, despite all of that, it was still possible to hear the feet of a battalion of infantry hammering the ground, hear the clanking of their Knights as the androids tried to keep pace with the men, hear the thumping tread of the Paladins and the spider droids, hear all the panoply of an Atlesian unit — a strong unit; this wasn’t a mere squad or even a company — coming their way.

And, having heard them, Starlight only need to turn her head to see them, the soldiers of the Third Battalion streaming down the light-strewn pathway from the landing zone; they must have only just disembarked from their Skyrays, had the Knights and the Paladins dropped from Skygraspers, but they were going to get no respite like the huntsmen and huntress students had enjoyed before the grimm attacked. No, these soldiers were about to be thrown right into the battle.

Because the grimm had noticed that the Atlesian flank was in the air, and they were done letting that stand unmolested.

That was why Starlight didn’t have to look very far to see the Third coming: Team TTSS, along with a few other teams, had been redeployed by Colonel Harper to cover the flank, to hold it, and to support the Third Battalion once they arrived.

And not a moment too soon, because a wave of grimm was heading their way, and for a second there, it had looked like the fairgrounds all over again.

The grimm were running towards an open door, hoping to pour through it; the Third Battalion was running to slam the door before the grimm could get through. It would all depend on who moved fastest.

Starlight sprayed fire with Equaliser, hardly bothering to aim at all, just firing shot after shot after shot in the direction of the dark mass that devoured the ground as they charged. With the grimm so numerous and so tightly pressed together, she could hardly miss, and the more that she could drop, the fewer there would be to reach the line.

Missiles flew, meteors through the darkness to hit the ground in fiery explosions, missiles coming from the Third’s cruisers as they glided in overhead, their stopping points above marking the points below where the infantry would make their stand. Flying grimm soared towards them, evading — or trying to evade — the Atlesian airships that sought to bar their way, but for now, the cruisers almost ignored them. Sure, their point defence systems blazed away at any nevermore or griffon that got too close, but their missiles and their lasers were reserved for the grimm down below, searing them and incinerating them as they charged.

Starlight kept on firing; she couldn’t make out how many grimm she was killing, but she was sure that she must be getting some of them.

Rarity conjured up a line of barriers, blue diamonds lined up in front of them to delay the grimm.

“I can’t cover the whole battlefield in these, darlings,” she said.

“Trixie doesn’t suppose that you can make a rampart here, huh, Maud?” Trixie asked.

“This is dirt,” Maud said softly. “Not rock.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” asked Trixie.

Maud gave her a Look.

“Right, right, not the same,” Trixie said. “Nothing at all alike. Understood.”

Maud had an ethereal-looking rocket launcher resting on her shoulder, conjured by Sunburst’s semblance, firing grey and gold rockets towards the grimm, exploding amongst them in motes of sparkling light.

And the Fourth Battalion’s Military Huntsman company was also letting the grimm have it, finally seeing some action after Colonel Harper had deployed them here against just this eventuality. The grimm weren’t coming right at them — more like, they were trying to slip around them — but that just put the Military Huntsmen in prime position to enfilade the grimm as they attacked. Some of the Military Huntsmen used standard rifles, light machine guns, light support weapons, rocket launchers; others used the weapons that had carried them through Combat School and that they would have hoped to use as Specialists. Special rounds, blasts of dust, customised grenades, even some arrows and quarrels, they all flew from the flank of the Fourth Battalion to wear away at the grimm like sandpaper smoothing down a piece of wood.

The grimm kept on coming, roaring and snarling, enduring the fire from above — it was only the cruisers firing right now; the spider droids and the mortars must be taking longer to set up — and the fire from the Atlesians already here. They kept on coming, racing towards the open space in the little time they had left before it ceased to be open.

Starlight felt something, a disturbance, an alert from her aura; she moved her foot just as a creep burst through the ground and tried to wrap its bony jaws around her foot. She slammed her foot down into its face instead, hard enough to kill it, but more creeps were popping out of the ground, beneath and behind Team TTSS and the other students and the Military Huntsmen.

Creeps weren’t dangerous as a rule: they were small and weak compared to other grimm — even their alphas were kind of rubbish by comparison — their only real strength was in their numbers; a big enough group could overwhelm careless soldiers. Even with surprise on their side, there was little chance of them doing that here; the Atlesians were too numerous and, quite frankly, too good. No sooner had creeps started coming out of the ground than Maud had started pounding on them like this was all some big game of whack-a-mole back at the fairgrounds.

“You focus on the others,” Maud said, in her usual voice that seemed devoid of emotions unless you knew her very well. “I’ve got this.”

And she did. Earth might not have been rock, and she might not have been able to manipulate it with her semblance, but that didn’t mean that Maud couldn’t move like lightning and hit like a truck; scarcely had a single creep raised its head above ground than Maud was on them like a fox on a rabbit brave enough to stick its head out of the burrow — and these creeps weren’t as fast or as smart as rabbits.

With her on it, Trixie and Starlight had nothing to worry about; they could focus on the grimm.

But not every team had a Maud, and Starlight was willing to bet the Military Huntsmen didn’t; she didn’t think they were in danger from the creeps, but their defending themselves meant that their fire on the grimm attacking in front slackened off.

Which was no doubt exactly what the grimm had planned.

The grimm kept coming, bounding over the grass, roaring as they ran, but they were answered by the roar of fire from the soldiers of the Third, the rifles opening up even before the troops had gotten into position, the lead elements — the Light Company, with the distinctive yellow stripes on their armour — blazing away as they stormed down the approach, filling the air with their tracer rounds. They were firing from the hip, some of them, and even those who fired from the shoulder were doing so at a run, fingers on the triggers as they sprinted forwards, and so the firing was wild and inaccurate, but the grimm were so many that unless the bullets went clean over their heads — which happened, in some cases, admittedly — they were bound to hit something.

The grimm attack faltered for a moment, the lessening of the fire on their flank compensated for by the fire now coming in from their front. They stopped, the lead grimm falling like leaves from the autumn trees, unable to move forward into the fire from the front.

The Third’s Skyrays flew overhead, missiles erupted from out of the bulbous noses of the airships to burst amongst the grimm, explosions rippling out like firecrackers to tear the grimm apart. That wasn’t a move they could pull very often, but they’d probably timed it about right.

The grimm faltered, and the soldiers of the Third took advantage of their momentary loss of nerve, the troops starting to reach their positions and fall in.

“Come on now!” barked a sergeant with a sash and sword, a sword which they planted in the ground as a marker for the flank of their squad. “Into line, two ranks, move!”

The soldiers moved and formed two ranks: the first rank knelt; the second rank stood and took aim over their heads. Feet kicked up dust as they shuffled into position. Rifles settled into shoulders. The ranks were not shoulder to shoulder, but it was a tight grouping, less than a foot between each soldier in the rank in most cases. The Paladins stomping forwards began to move into the gaps between the squads and platoons, towering over the humans and faunus around them.

As each unit and each mech moved into position, they opened fire, spreading rightwards down the line as the battalion formed on the flank of the Fourth’s Military Huntsman. The Third didn’t have a rampart to stand behind, and if the grimm reached the line, then it would be a bloody business, but if they could just keep the fire up, if they put out sufficient firepower to keep the grimm at bay, they would not only hold their own line but also secure the flank of the Fourth also. That was why, as the soldiers with rifles and light support weapons fired, the troops scrambled to set up their light machine guns and rocket launchers, adding their firepower to the storm while behind them the mortar crews began to set up too.

The grimm endured the fire, standing still, soaking up the bullets with their black mass, before the roar of a large alpha beowolf rallied them and they once again charged forwards, hoping to close the distance remaining between them and the Atlesians.

The soldiers fired, the Paladins fired — and loosed the missiles from their shoulder launchers too — the cruisers fired down from above, the mortars fired overhead, every weapon that could be brought to bear was fired into the attacking grimm.

Starlight fired too, holding down the trigger of Equaliser, bolt after blue bolt leaping from her rifle until it was out of power.

Starlight reached into one of the pouches at her belt for a new power pack. The big alpha, the one that had rallied the grimm, leapt out of the mass, bullets glancing off its armour as it bounded towards her.

Starlight shifted Equaliser into polearm mode. Trixie took a step forward, wand pointing towards the grimm.

There was a bang from behind the beowolf, a blast that made the grimm stagger. There was a second blast, and a third, and a fourth, and the alpha beowolf pitched forwards, collapsing on the ground.

And behind it stood—

Rarity gasped. “Sun?”

“Hey!” Sun said, waving one hand. He laughed nervously. “You guys sure do like your missiles and stuff, don’t you? I swear, I thought you were gonna blow me up a couple of times getting over here.”

“Sun?” Starlight cried.

“Who’s this?” asked Sunburst.

“This is Blake’s boyfriend,” Rarity answered. “But what are you doing here, darling?”

“Come on, Rarity,” Trixie said, stepping around Sun as he approached them to casually unleash a torrent of flame in the direction of the grimm. “You know exactly why he’s here.”

“I was with the Mistralians when I found out that the commander was planning to ambush the grimm but at the same time leave you guys hanging, without trying to, you know, form a line with you or whatever,” Sun said. “And while I guess it made sense why she wanted to do it, just leaving you all — leaving Blake — with a chance the grimm might get around behind you didn’t sit right with me, so I came to find you.”

“So you … fought your way here through the grimm?” Sunburst exclaimed.

“Well, they weren’t always coming this way,” said Sun. “But if I’d gone the long way around, it would have taken too long.”

Starlight fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was kind of … no, actually, there was no ‘kind of’ about it; it was very dumb. Sun was as dumb as a bag of hammers. Dumb … but at the same time, pretty sweet too.

And very brave, too.

Maybe you could do a little better, Blake, but you could sure do a whole lot worse.

But Trixie was right; it had been exactly what she thought.

“So,” Sun went on, “is Blake around here?”

“Sorry, you just missed her,” Starlight said. “She took off, literally, with Dash and Ciel on … well, I don’t know, but it must be a special mission for the General.”

“Oh,” Sun said, looking a little deflated. Even his tail drooped down to the ground.

“Now, you could try and fight your way through the grimm again to try and catch up with their airship,” Starlight said, switching Equaliser back into rifle mode and slapping in a fresh power pack. “But that might be a little too much even for you, and in the meantime, we could use your help right here if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do,” Sun admitted, fitting his staff back together and twirling it in one hand. “What’s up? We just trying to kill all the monsters?”

Starlight started firing again. “That’s about the size of it, yeah.”

“Cool,” Sun replied. “Yeah, I think I can help with that.”

In front of Pyrrha stood a large fragment of wreckage, a slice of metal that had once formed part of the Dingyuan. Similar fragments of metal lay all around her, a few of them still smouldering but most of the fires having long since gone out. They formed a maze spreading across the battlefield, a labyrinth of twists and turns, where the debris and the armour plates and the occasional nigh-intact compartment formed the walls, and the space between the corridors. It was chaotic, and the opportunities to squeeze between the shards of debris could be far-between upon occasion, but while that meant it was easy to get separated — or to remain separated, should one wish to — that same tangled confusion, the same confinement, the same twists and turns meant that the grimm could not hurl themselves upon the huntsmen in a great horde as they had done, and with the huntsmen so much fewer in number than the grimm — and so superior in valour and in the quality of their weapons — it had seemed to Violet Valeria and Coco Adel alike that they had less to fear from plunging into the cauldron than from letting the grimm emerge from it and reorganise themselves.

And so Pyrrha stood, alone, her teammates having left her behind — the fact that they had done so for quite sensible reasons did not lessen her regret at the fact, nor erase her fear for them; she wished that Yang had never remembered the risk that the four then-team leaders had run at the beginning of the year — facing a large, squarish fragment of metal behind which, she was certain, lurked at least one grimm.

She could hear them snuffling, snarling, growling on the other side, out of sight but not out of hearing.

Pyrrha tightened her grip on Miló in sword form.

She let out a wordless shout of anger as she kicked the metal fragment hard enough to knock it down, causing at least one grimm to yelp with pain, possibly even fatally, as Pyrrha charged, her boots clattering on the metal, to engage the beowolves behind.

Her sash flew around her as Pyrrha spun, twirling on her toes, whirling around to slash in wide arcs, cutting through many grimm at once as they pressed close in the confined space. She slashed this way, reversed her blade and cut the other; she threw Akoúo̱ and sent a beowolf flying backwards; she switched Miló into spear mode and drove it through a grimm’s mouth and out of its neck; she summoned her shield back onto her arm through a grimm that barred her way; she switched Miló into rifle mode and dispatched a creep with a single shot as it emerged from underneath the ground, then switched to sword again to deal three rapid blows to the chest of a beowolf trying to come up behind her. Red flowed behind and all around her as she danced amongst the grimm, too swift for them even with her movements somewhat confined, striking here and there and dealing death to them one after another.

There was only one left — an ursa, not a beowolf — but as Pyrrha lunged for it, Miló drawn back, the grimm stopped, twitching, jerking, yelping a little in alarm before being hauled backwards onto its back, paws and legs waving in the air.

Arslan leapt on it, one hand holding the rope of Nemean Claw, the other hand drawn back.

A single punch was all it took to shatter the ursa’s skull and start its transformation into ashes.

Arslan looked up. “Impressive work.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan retrieved Nemean Claw, twirling it around one finger. “Of course, I can’t help but notice that you’re all alone—”

“I could say the same,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Arslan smirked out of one corner of her mouth. “I suppose you could. I sent Bolin back to the camp to guard Reese and the other wounded. If we all die—”

“We aren’t going to die.”

“Then he’ll die last, and doing something notable, and notably noble,” Arslan went on, as though Pyrrha hadn’t said anything. “They’ll remember him, how he stood in defence of the wounded to the end. He’ll like that.”

“We’re not all going to die,” Pyrrha repeated.

“Well, I certainly hope not,” Arslan agreed. “But fate may have other plans for us.” She paused. “But anyway, I’m not alone anymore because I’ve found you.”

Pyrrha smiled slightly. “Which surely means that I, too, am no longer alone.”

“No, and a good thing too,” Arslan replied. “Even the mightiest warrior can be brought down, by a single beowolf maybe, if she gets careless.” Again, she paused. “But I’ve told you why I am — why I was — temporarily solitary, so how about you? How come I saw Jaune and Penny running off—”

“Jaune has not run away,” Pyrrha said sharply. “None of them have. They … they’ve gone to try and find and kill the Apex Alpha who leads this horde.”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “They … right. I see.”

“Do you?” Pyrrha asked. “Do you really?”

“Really?” Arslan repeated. “No, not really. Do they even know where to look?”

“Somewhere to the rear.”

“A horde this big will have a big rear,” Arslan pointed out.

“They thought, Yang thought and made the case persuasively,” Pyrrha said, “that something needed to be done, or we should eventually succumb to the numbers of the grimm.”

Arslan gave a slight nod of her head, so slight that Pyrrha wasn’t sure whether she actually understood or not. “So,” she said, “why didn’t you go with them?”

Pyrrha fought the urge to pout. “Ruby thought that if I was seen leaving with them, you’d think that I was running away.”

“Ruby said that? Ruby said that you had to stay behind while she dragged Jaune and Penny off on a do or die reenactment of the Red Lion’s glory? Ruby needs to…” Arslan muttered. “Forget it. I mean, she’s probably right, but even so … never mind; let’s not get into that.” She shook her head. “So how are you handling it?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. “My heart is so full of fear that I am ashamed,” she confessed. “I should have more confidence in them. In Jaune, in Penny, in Ruby and Yang, in all of them. I should have faith that they can do this without my help, and yet … I am full of fear.”

“Don’t beat yourself up for that; it’s not like they’re just going to … do some routine mission, of which I can’t give an example because I haven’t looked, but you know what I mean. What they’re doing…” Arslan trailed off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t add to your forebodings.”

“No, indeed, I would rather you didn’t,” Pyrrha murmured. “I would rather you leave me to … distract myself.”

“Leave you?” Arslan asked. “No, I won’t leave you. But I might let you distract yourself at my side, seeing as how we are both not otherwise overburdened with companions right now.”

“Very well,” Pyrrha said at once. “Under different circumstances, I would like that. Under the present circumstances, I have no objection.”

“Excellent,” Arslan said, tossing Nemean Claw up into the air and catching it without even looking. “Then let us go and see what distraction we may find, 'til these new lions shall return.”

The airship was dark. Rainbow didn’t have any of the lights on inside the Skyray, she was using her goggles to see by, with a little help from Blake’s nightvision as she stood in the cockpit with her, hand resting on the back of Rainbow’s chair as they both looked out at the grimm below.

So many of them.

It was a little inconvenient for Ciel, but first of all, she didn’t need to see very much right now; second of all, she really wasn’t the type to complain; and third of all, being eaten by a giant nevermore would be a lot more inconvenient for Ciel and everyone else than not being able to see inside the airship for a little bit, so … yeah, Ciel would just have to deal with it.

It was the grimm that had caused Rainbow to turn off all the lights and were prompting her to make as little noise as possible — the airship was practically silent, only the occasional rustle of a chair moving, the gentle scraping of the stick as Rainbow tugged it to this side or that; nobody was speaking, not even Midnight. It was all quiet and all dark. They were past the Atlesian front line, way past wherever the Mistralian front line was now, and if they got into trouble, then they couldn’t count on hard-pressed Atlesian air support being available to them. Best, then, not to draw the attention of any grimm flying by, and while they might find a grimm drawn to them by their emotions alone — Rainbow was trying her best, as she was sure the other two were as well, but she couldn’t stop a little flutter in her heart, considering everything — they were twice as likely to draw one lit up like the Longest Night decorations. Running dark might not keep them safe, but it would reduce their risks, if only a little.

So, lights off, nobody making a sound they could avoid — Ciel was particularly good at that; you’d never know she was there at all, sat somewhere in the back — they soared over the grimm horde as it advanced.

So many of them.

In the air, it was even clearer than it had been on the ground just how numerous the grimm were. Yes, Rainbow had known that it was a horde, but there were degrees of horde; the horde whose Apex Alpha Blake had helped to defeat with Sunset, Weiss, and Yang had been a very low level one, an agglomeration of packs and dens, but a very manageable force, one that the Valish Defence Force could have fended off if they had to — well, they’d thought that they could have; on the evidence of their actual performance, that might have been very optimistic of them. But this … this was something else altogether, something much, much bigger and much worse. If you had taken hordes like the one that Blake had encountered before, multiplied them, and joined all those hordes together, if you had added in a couple of groups of grimm the size of the one that had pursued them down the tunnel and tried to breach Vale from underground, then … you might still not have as many grimm as were bearing down on Vale right now. There were just so many.

Looking out of the cockpit window, looking down at the grimm … that was the point; she was looking down at the grimm not just because she was looking for her target but because grimm were all that she could see down there, covering the landscape as they moved forwards.

The standard method of operation for a horde was quite straightforward: they would send the small, weak grimm in first, to test the defences and the strength of the opposition, then the older, larger, wilier, and better protected grimm would go in afterwards and take advantage of any weaknesses or simply batter their way through any defence that was weak enough. This horde, these hordes plural — plural — were kind of following that same playbook, but as Rainbow flew overhead and looked down at the grimm underneath, it looked like they were running a variation on it in which waves of the smallest, youngest weakest grimm gave way to their more experienced cousins, but then once they were all dead, there would be another wave of the small and weak ones, then some more experienced ones again. It was like they were deployed to continuously probe at the defences, then launch a full assault; then, if that assault failed, there would be more probing, then another attack; waves of probe and attack, probe and attack.

Pretty smart really, and like the waves that ebbed and flowed, there was a chance that they would wear down the opposition through sheer erosion.

That was what the General was afraid would happen; that was why he’d sent them out here, on this mission to find the Apex Alpha commanding the horde, in the hope that if they could kill it, then some of the guiding intelligence behind this assault would vanish with its body.

They hadn’t found it yet, but Rainbow hadn’t given up. She had an idea, a rough idea anyway, of where to look.

The Apex Alpha was the commanding grimm, right? Which meant that they were, if not the grimm general — at least not in a situation where there were multiple hordes in play; Rainbow wondered how they were coordinating their attack, if they were coordinating; was there an apex amongst apexes? That was a worrying thought — then at least the grimm equivalent to Colonel Harper. So, with that in mind, where would a grimm who was commanding the assault be? Not on the front lines, that might get them killed, and the grimm didn’t need a colonel like Colonel Harper to walk the line inspiring her soldiers with her courage under attack.

Not a frontline commander. A strategist then, and where would a strategist, someone looking at the big picture, someone deciding how to roll their attack forward, where would they place themselves?

At the rear, yes, where you could always find the boss of the horde, but more than that, somewhere they could see the battle unfolding and make their decisions, decide when to commit reserves and which reserves and … communicate that forward somehow; Rainbow wasn’t quite sure how they did that. As far as she was aware, nobody was aware of how they did that. Perhaps Professor Port knew and you couldn’t just tell amongst all the irrelevant stuff that he said in class.

Anyway, yes, not just at the rear, but somewhere from which they could see the battle — assuming they had sharp enough eyes. From the air, it would be trivial, and it might be that the Apex Alpha was a flier, but Rainbow was inclined to doubt that. Not to say it couldn’t happen or never happened, but considering the way the flying grimm had been used so far … Rainbow could be wrong about this, but her gut told her that if a nevermore or a griffon or a teryx had been leading this attack, then the honour of the decisive blow would have gone to the airborne element. As it was, the fliers seemed to be there to tie up or try to take out the Atlesian air support, leaving a free hand for the ground element to do its thing. That was even the case on this side of the battlefield, where the fliers had a freer hand but weren’t using it much.

So, her assumptions were that this was a grimm on the ground, but that it would be somewhere it could get a good view of the fighting across the battlefield. Since so much of this part of Vale was flat land, cultivated farm and pastureland stretching out from the city, that didn’t leave very many options, but a few miles out from the city there was a hill, one that had gotten cut off from a longer spur of hills and valleys to the southeast of Vale that formed a kind of boundary to anyone coming up from that direction — like the mountains that marked the eastern frontier of the kingdom, only a lot smaller. This particular hill was called the Wreconsetun, and there was a CCT relay on it.

A relay that had gone dark and was refusing all of Rainbow’s attempts to ping it.

Now, that might not mean anything, or it might mean nothing more than that the grimm had moved over the hill and torn the relay down, or it might mean that this thirteen-hundred-foot-high hill was a good vantage point to observe an attack rolling out across otherwise pretty flat land towards Vale.

So Rainbow was heading in that direction to check it out.

The interior of the Skyray remained quiet as Rainbow guided the airship in that direction. The only real light was the faint lavender light from the faceplate of the Knight autopilot, where Midnight was currently ensconced, waiting to take over the controls.

Rainbow was glad that she was restraining her eagerness.

As the airship flew towards the hill, Rainbow wondered what kind of grimm they might find when they got there. Probably a beowolf. A big beowolf but still … a beowolf. You didn't hear of many ursai leading hordes, for whatever reason. Perhaps for the same reason they didn't form big gangs. It could be something else, a rat king maybe — they were supposed to be quite smart — but at the same time, that might be good because they were also not that hard to kill; you just to had to sever the connection between all the stormvermin. They might even be able to do that with missiles from the air.

It would not be a creep, Rainbow was sure of that; the idea was almost too ridiculous to contemplate.

A goliath? Maybe, but Rainbow hoped not. The idea wasn't implausible — they often lived for a long time, they didn't pick fights they didn't think they could win, they were thought to be pretty smart even by grimm standards — but she hoped that it wasn't the case because an Apex goliath would be really, really hard to kill.

Although if we're talking about four-legged creatures giving orders…

The thought of some grimm alicorn, some monstrous Princess Celestia with bone plates and a bone crown issuing the orders, flitted across Rainbow's mind.

Nah, probably not.

It would be, she was mostly certain, a grimm that they had seen before. Unique grimm didn't tend to rise to leadership, as a rule, maybe because everyone thought they were a bit too weird. Or maybe because, being unique, they were inclined to be loners. Anyway, Vice Principal Luna had been wont to say that a horde would be led by one of the same kind of grimm that made up the horde, and that made sense as a general rule.

She'd also said that it wouldn't necessarily be one of the most common kinds of grimm in the horde, though, so not necessarily a beowolf.

If she was right in her instincts about where the Apex Alpha was, then they'd see what it was soon enough.

They were approaching the hill now, the hill with the name that Rainbow didn't really want to think about how it was pronounced. It wasn't big, not really, but it seemed big in comparison to all the flat land around it. It was also thickly forested, not so densely that nothing could move around there — although Rainbow had doubts that a goliath could find it comfortable without knocking over a lot of trees — but thickly enough that it was hard to see anything through the trees from the air.

They flew over what looked like the remains of a ditch, like the ones that the Atlesians had dug in front of their position; there wasn't a lot left, just occasional declines in the ground that didn't exactly seem natural, enough to make Rainbow wonder if this place had been fortified once upon a time. Must have been a long time ago, considering how overgrown it had gotten now.

There was no light from the CCT relay, which according to the map was an unmanned relay station, just a little tower that picked up signals from the main tower at Beacon and bounced them on across Vale to the south and east. Although it didn't bounce them so far that they could reach Mountain Glenn easily.

Hopefully, it wasn't a necessary relay, considering it wasn't broadcasting. There ought to have been physical light, which doubled duty as a warning to airships not to crash into the hill, as well as a ping to guidance systems. Neither was happening now, but with the help of her goggles and with Blake looking over her shoulder, Rainbow was fairly confident that she wasn't about to slam into the hillside as she flew over the forested hill.

She glanced around for any sign of nevermores or griffons. There was one, a nevermore that had just taken off from the top of the hill — now why would it want to do that? — but it was flying in the opposite direction to Rainbow's Skyray, turning in a wide arc across the sky before heading towards Vale and the battle raging in front of it. It didn't seem to see or notice them. Maybe it would have sensed their emotions, but one good thing about a battle going on was that the emotions of the battle itself must be overwhelming for the grimm, intoxicating for them, so much more potent than the feelings of three people in one airship, even if they were a little nervous.

The hill was roughly oval-shaped, except with rough edges that were kind of ragged, albeit covered up by the trees down at the bottom. But at the top of the hill, where it was crowned, the trees stopped, probably cut back the way that they'd been cut back along and couple of trails leading up to the top; the clearance was much more pronounced on one side, where the hill steeply fell away and you could stand and look out towards Vale itself, which was probably the point. The open space at the crown of the hill made it a lot easier to see what was there: the relay tower, damaged by the look of it but not completely destroyed; some old stone ruins, bits of wall and such; a small building, half-wrecked but modern-looking that Rainbow couldn't identify; and a lot of grimm gathered around the largest beringel that she'd seen.

This was the Apex Alpha; Rainbow would stake her life on it. It had the size for it, being at least twenty-five feet tall, even down on its knuckles, and while that wasn't much compared to a goliath, that was plenty for a lot of other grimm. On top of which, its arms were larger than most of the trees on this hill, and its chest looked as broad or broader than the Skyray which carried them. The beringel was nearly all white, so covered in armour plates that there was barely any black visible underneath, and in fact, it was covered with plate that its armour had started to grow spikes: spikes on the shoulders, and on top of the beringel's head, there was what looked like a bone helmet with four horns emerging out of it, two curling up and around like a bull's horns, the others sticking out on either side, almost more like stag's antlers. As it raised one hand to gesture outwards, Rainbow could see — or thought that she could see; it was a little hard to tell in the dark, even with her goggles on — that it had spikes on its knuckles too, like a knuckleduster.

An enormous axe sat beside the beringel, buried in the ground by the blade. It looked, as far as Rainbow could make out from up here, like a jagged piece of metal from an airship or something strapped to a really big piece of wood. Even if the grimm had had to scavenge for metal, it was impressive that they'd been able to make the weapon at all; most grimm didn't bother.

But then, this beringel wasn't the only one that was armed. It was attended by a dozen beringels, smaller and less well-armoured, but at least half of them had some kind of stick or spear in their hands. A few large beowolves, who might have been alphas of their own packs, prowled around; they weren't armed, and sometimes, they dropped to all fours instead of standing upright.

A group of grimm stood in front of the big beringel: a griffon, two beowolves, an ursa, and a cyclops. They weren't exactly kneeling, but they were all acting submissive towards it, heads bowed, backs bent, not looking at the big guy, that kind of thing. There was no doubt who was in charge.

There was … there was the remains of something in the beringel's mouth; something hanging out of it. Rainbow found herself glad that she couldn't really make out what it was.

She wished she couldn't imagine what it was either.

The beringel was addressing the grimm gathered around it, gesturing with one hand, mouth moving as it pointed towards Vale. Rainbow had no idea what it was telling them, except that it had to be the next phase of the attack plan.

Hopefully, that plan would fall to pieces once they killed this thing.

And then Penny and the others would have an easier time of it.

Because if they failed…

Can't think about that right now. I need to stay focussed.

Rainbow turned the airship away momentarily, so that they didn't come so close that they could be spotted by the grimm on the ground, and as she turned, she glanced over her shoulder and hissed, "Ciel! Ciel, come here."

Ciel's feet shuffled a little as she approached. Blake stepped fully into the cockpit, standing between Rainbow and Midnight's temporary body, so that Ciel could stand where Blake had just been standing, over Rainbow's shoulder.

Rainbow kept her voice low as she turned the Skyray around, bringing it full circle so that Ciel could see the beringel the way that Blake and Rainbow had already seen it. Ciel already had her visor on — it was glowing blue in the dark cockpit — so she'd be able to see what was on top of the hill as well, at least out of one eye.

"Lady have mercy on a poor soul," Ciel murmured, telling Rainbow what she thought about the object coming out of the beringel's mouth.

"Does anyone disagree that that is our mission objective?" Rainbow asked, keeping her voice soft.

Nobody replied, which Rainbow took for agreement.

"Okay," Rainbow went on. "Here is the plan: Ciel, you'll stay in the Skyray and provide fire support. I want you to focus on the bodyguards, clear a path for us and make sure that we don't get too many grimm in our way."

"Understood," Ciel said.

"Midnight, you'll be flying the airship. Keep her steady for Ciel, unless you get directly attacked, in which case, take evasive action. You can also support with the Skyray's missiles, but watch for friendly fire."

"You can count on me, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, sounding a little more serious than usual.

Rainbow breathed in and out. "Which means, Blake, you and I are going down there to deal with the Apex Alpha itself. While Ciel watches our backs, we'll take out the big guy. It won't be easy, but if you can keep it distracted, then if I put enough aura into it, I should be able to break its skull. It looks too strong to restrain with ice, so focus on using fire clones to do damage if you can. How are you fixed for dust?"

"I haven't used much of it so far," Blake said. "So I'm good."

"Excellent," Rainbow replied. "There are some grenades in the back if you want them; I'll be taking some myself." She paused for a half a second as she started to unbuckle herself from her seat. "Is everyone ready?"

Before anyone could answer, Rainbow caught sight of something coming towards them out of the corner of her eye: a tree, spinning in the air as it was hurled straight at the cockpit.

"Hold on!" Rainbow shouted, yanking the control stick hard to the right and down, sending the Skyray into a steep, sharp dive that knocked Ciel into her and sent Blake scrabbling to hold onto something.

The tree flew over the Skyray, missing them.

The beringel, the big beringel, the Apex Alpha, opened its mouth and beat its armoured chest; Rainbow couldn't hear it, but she imagined that it was roaring at them. All the other grimm on the hilltop were turned towards them — the bodyguards and the officers, for want of a better term — all looking upwards at the Skyray, which, dark or not, was now revealed to them.

"Okay, this is it!" Rainbow yelled. "Midnight, you've got the controls."

"Affirmative," Midnight said, her voice still serious and earnest, lacking the snide or playful inflections that Rainbow had come to expect. The Skyray levelled off, and tracer rounds began to leap from the rotary cannons — not a Tempest cannon, unfortunately; this wasn't the Bus; just a pair of twin-linked triple-barrelled Hailstorms — down onto the bald hilltop.

Ciel was the first one out of the cockpit, Distant Thunder beginning to unfold in her hands even as the side door slid open. Rainbow and Blake followed her.

The door on the side of the Skyray opened, and the three huntresses stood there, looking down on the hilltop, the wind whipping around them, carrying the cries and roars of the grimm up towards them.

The griffon took off, spreading its black wings out on either side, white beak open, white claws outstretched.

Ciel's right foot shuffled backwards, her body turning as she raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder. She fired, the rifle booming. The griffon rolled aside, screeching.

Ciel worked the bolt. The spent cartridge hit the floor with a thud, then bounced away out the open side of the Skyray, falling down into the darkness.

Her eyes began to glow a brighter blue before she fired again, Distant Thunder roaring. This time, she did not miss.

The screech of the griffon was abruptly cut off as half its head disappeared in a shower of white bone; the black body began bulging out from the side as though an explosion had gone off within it, and the lifeless remains fell smoking down towards the ground.

Ciel worked the bolt, ejected the cartridge — this one rolled inwards inside the Skyray — and chambered a new round. She fired a third shot, and the Apex Alpha shuddered a little, one shoulder shaking, but it didn't otherwise look harmed.

"Unfortunate," Ciel murmured. "But worth a try, was it not?"

"Sure, that would have been really convenient," Rainbow said. "But remember—"

"From now on, my trigger will pull only for the bodyguards," Ciel said. "I understand. Lady go with you."

"Blake?"

"Ready," Blake said.

"Then let's go," Rainbow said, as the two of them leapt from the Skyray, leaving Ciel alone with only Midnight at the controls for company.

Rainbow caught Blake by the waist as she fell — she was sure her landing strategy was fine for this, but she wanted to bring them in a little closer — as the Wings of Harmony unfurled, clanking and clicking as the two huntresses descended until, fully unfurled on either side of her, they caught the air currents, and the engine flared to push them closer to the top of the hill and their waiting target.

The Apex Alpha grabbed another tree from the far side of the hill, where they had been allowed to encroach closer to the top, and threw it at Rainbow and Blake. Rainbow rolled away, spinning in the air, Blake's long hair getting in her face a little bit until she righted the two of them, the tree having missed.

One of the bodyguard beringels stepped forward, up on its hind legs, spear drawn back—

There was a boom from Distant Thunder, and a hole appeared in the beringel's chest. It fell backwards, spear dropping from between its lifeless fingers.

Rainbow dropped Blake, judging the two of them were close enough now, and folded up the Wings of Harmony on her back before she, too, fell straight downwards, feet first.

She had set them down on the edge of the trees, just before they opened up to the crown of the hill, just beyond where all the grimm were gathered; the hill sloped downwards and away behind her, rolling down towards the flat ground that lay between here and Vale; a dirt trail ran down, snaking between the trees slightly, hard to spot at times because of the way that weeds and plants were reclaiming it for themselves.

And just ahead of them lay the hilltop and the grimm.

Rainbow couldn't quite see the Apex Alpha from where she was now, but she could hear it bellowing, and from below, down at the bottom or the slopes of the hill, she could hear answering roars from grimm … units, if you wanted to call them that, concealed or in reserve or whatever, ready to defend their leader.

They would need to wrap this up quick and get out of here.

Rainbow started up the hill, her trainers kicking dirt and loose twigs back down behind her.

A beringel — not their target, one of its bodyguards — smashed a slender tree aside as it leapt at her, bellowing in fury. It drew back one enormous fist as it flew through the air.

Rainbow let it come, standing her ground; then, as the beringel closed in, about to land, throwing its first towards her face to send her flying down the hill, Rainbow twisted, turning in place on her toes and reaching out — her hands and arms shimmered with a little rainbow light — to grab the beringel's wrist as its hand flew past her face.

Rainbow grunted, gritting her teeth, muscles bulging on her arms as she completed the turn, facing down the hill, and with a heave and a great effort and a touch more aura to her arms, she threw the still-shouting beringel over her shoulder and down the slope.

Several unfortunate trees were shattered to splinters as the beringel crashed through them, rolling along the ground, crushing plants and fallen logs beneath it before the grimm managed to bring itself to a stop. It scrambled up onto all fours, growling, eyes blazing like charging lasers.

Blake fired, Gambol Shroud snapping repeatedly as she shot the beringel — with fire dust rounds. The night was lit up as the grimm's side and back and left arm caught fire. The beringel hooted, waving its arm, shaking, beating at its own shoulder with its other hand.

Rainbow closed in, a rainbow trailing behind her as she descended the hill, pulled Undying Loyalty over her shoulder, and shoved it into the beringel's open mouth.

She fired. The beringel shuddered but didn't die. Rainbow pumped the shotgun and fired again before the grimm could respond, and this second shot did the trick: there was a little explosion of black grimm essence out the back of its head before the grimm toppled backwards.

Rainbow turned once more to see two big beowolves start to lope into the trees. Distance muted the sound of Distant Thunder, but it didn't stop one beowolf's head exploding even as the other ran towards Blake.

Blake stood still. The beowolf swiped at her with one long set of claws, only for Blake's clone to dissolve into shadow, revealing the real Blake behind the grimm, slinging her hook into its shoulder.

Blake hauled back on the black ribbon, but the beowolf responded by pitching itself forwards, bending over double, hunching its shoulders, lowering its centre of mass so that Blake couldn't so easily pull it off balance and backwards.

Blake hauled, but the beowolf dug its claws into the earth and didn't budge.

Then it lunged forwards, bounding on all fours down the hill, dragging Blake off balance and onto her face as she was pulled by her own ribbon down the slope.

The beowolf turned, rising onto its hind legs. Rainbow intercepted it, leaping up into the air as she closed the distance to whack the beowolf across the face with the butt of Undying Loyalty. She landed on the ground and hit the beowolf again, this time in the chest about as high as she could reach, making it stagger backwards.

She reversed her shotgun and shot it in the foot, where there wasn't much armour. The beowolf growled as it dropped to one knee, letting Rainbow quickly reach out and pull Blake's black hook free before she made to hit the grimm again in the face with her shotgun.

The beowolf caught the blow with one paw, its forearm quivering, but Rainbow's blow stopped in its tracks. Long claws like swords closed around the shotgun barrel.

The beowolf bared its teeth at her, but Rainbow threw her head forwards and headbutted the grimm before it could plant its teeth around her face. With her free hand, she drew Plain Awesome and fired upwards into the beowolf's throat and lower jaw, even as she headbutted the grimm for a second time.

The beowolf's grip around Undying Loyalty loosed, and Rainbow kicked the beowolf backwards, off the ground, sending it flying down the hill, all four legs flailing.

Blake appeared behind the grimm, Gambol Shroud in sword mode, striking from behind with blade and cleaver in perfect unison to cut the beowolf cleanly in half.

Distant Thunder fired again, though Rainbow didn't see the results.

She ran up the hill, trusting Blake to follow her, and she emerged onto the top of the hill just in time for another beringel to throw a spear at her. Rainbow dodged it, swaying out of the way to let the spear fly past her even as the beringel who had thrown the spear charged, beating its fists against its chest.

The beringel was pulled up short as a flurry of blades on wires buried themselves in its back.

The wires yanked the grimm backwards, across the hilltop towards … Penny?

The armoured car's headlights were on, lighting up a little bit of the ground — not road, just grass — in front of them; it would have lit up any grimm who were in front of them too, but they'd been lucky that way so far, not having run into any. That was probably at least a little because of the way that they'd been careful to keep out of the way, going quite wide away from where all the grimm seemed to be being pulled towards the fighting with the Beacon and Haven students, but also it probably had at least something to do with Ren.

At least, Jaune assumed that Ren was doing something, using his semblance; Yang had asked him to, when a nevermore had flown overhead a little too close for comfort, and Ren had closed his eyes like he was meditating or falling asleep, and then … well, and then, Jaune wasn't quite sure what was happening. He thought that Ren must be using his semblance, but he had no idea how to tell if he was or not. Or if it was only possible to tell.

"You know," he said, "I thought that this might feel … different."

Ren opened his eyes. "My semblance masks emotions; it doesn't change them. Your feelings are your own; I only hide from the grimm." He paused. "Think of it like tofu in sauce. The tofu will still have a tofu taste no matter how much katsu sauce you slather over it; the only difference is what the eater tastes, not the internal properties of the tofu itself."

"Tofu, blegh," Nora said. "Give me some chicken any day."

Ren glanced at her. One corner of his mouth twitched up.

Nora smiled. "How's your aura holding up?"

"I'm fine," Ren told her. "This car isn't so large, and its passengers aren't so numerous."

"Are you sure you don't want a boost?" Jaune said, holding up one hand.

Ren shook his head. "You should save your strength. There may be others who need it more than I do before our task is complete."

Jaune nodded. Ren knew his own aura levels best, he was sure.

A momentary silence fell in the armoured car, disturbed only by the rumbling of the vehicle itself as it devoured the ground beneath it, heading … well, that was the thing, wasn't it? They weren't exactly sure where they were heading — where they ought to be going.

They were heading around the grimm horde, hoping to come up behind it, and then … then they also hoped to figure it out from there.

Jaune glanced around the car. Penny and Yang were up front, their backs to him, Yang's long yellow hair spilling out on either side of her, Penny's shorter copper hair mostly hidden by the seat rest. Ruby, Ren, and Nora were in the back with him. Ruby was looking down at Crescent Rose, and with one hand, she lightly stroked the silver rose that she wore at her belt.

Without looking directly at Ren, Nora reached out gingerly for his hand.

Ren shifted his hand slightly, so that Nora's fingertips brushed against his knee.

Nora's face fell.

Jaune frowned. He understood that it wasn't the best time right now, but at some point, Ren would either have to give Nora something or tell her straight up that there was nothing to give; things couldn't go on like this forever without someone getting hurt.

He also couldn't understand why Ren would want to let things go on like this. He almost certainly had his reasons — Jaune certainly hoped that he did — but Jaune couldn't work out what they were.

However, as much as clearing the air between the two of them might help in the long run, Ren was right that now wasn't the time. And so, Jaune changed the subject, or went back to the old subject after a break. "So, when you mask all our emotions, from the grimm … can you feel what we're feeling when you do it?"

Ren hesitated for a moment. "To an extent," he admitted. "It's not clear, I can't feel every emotion that everyone in this car is experiencing, but I can get some broad strokes." He paused. "To tell you the truth, I'm somewhat in awe of you."

Jaune blinked. "You … you are? You're in awe?" Nobody had … well, Dove had come close, but that was entirely because of his relationship with Pyrrha; nobody had ever said that they were in awe of him for him before. He couldn't think why.

"You're not in the least afraid," Ren said. "You don't feel any fear at all."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "I think your semblance might be acting up a little … and you're messing with me, aren't you?"

Ren continued to stare at him, his expression the very definition of 'deadpan.'

Nora reached up and pinched his face. "I've told you before, Ren, you need to give a bit of a clue when you're having fun with someone. Just smile a little or something."

Ren pulled his face away. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, you have. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Jaune, but you're as nervous as anyone here, although understandably so, in the circumstances." He glanced at Ruby. "Ruby, on the other hand."

Ruby looked up from Crescent Rose, although she didn't stop stroking the rose on her belt. "What do we have to be afraid of?" she asked softly.

Nora's eyebrows rose. Jaune's felt the urge to do the same, but they were too weighed down by his embarrassment. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn pink.

"I think that was a little mean," Penny said.

"It was all in good fun!" Nora declared. "Jaune knows Ren didn't mean anything by it, right, Jaune?"

"I … yeah," Jaune said quietly. "Yeah, of course I know that." He could still feel his cheeks burning nonetheless. "I … I'm just gonna take a look…" He trailed off as he stood up, sticking his head up out of the hole in the armoured car roof.

The machine gun sat in front of him, although Jaune didn't pay it much attention; there wasn't a lot of need for it, and if there was a need for it, then he would probably sit down again and let someone more qualified handle the shooting. Like Nora — she seemed to know her way around guns — or Ruby, whose aim wouldn't be thrown off by fear.

He wasn't jealous. That wasn't what this was about; he wasn't surprised to be told that he was afraid — he knew that he was nervous; he could feel it himself – he wasn't envious of Ruby's fearlessness — good on her, but Jaune wasn't ashamed of the way he felt. He wasn't even … okay, he was a little annoyed to have his chain yanked by Ren that way, but what really bothered him, the thing that was making his face flush, the reason he was sticking his head out of this hatch so that nobody else could see it was the fact that, after a year here, he was still getting treated like the butt of the joke.

Albeit by teams other than his own. The fact that Penny had stood up for him was nice of her, and he thought that Pyrrha would have done the same if she were here. She would have stood up for him and tried to find something to say to make him feel better; it might not have worked, but she would have tried, if she'd been here.

But she wasn't here. He'd left her behind.

The night air was cool on Jaune's face. He glanced in front of them, to where the ground was illuminated by the headlights; there wasn't much in front of them; it looked like farmland: harvested farmland, with no crops, just plough marks in the soil where the earth had been tilled. They must have begun planting again after the harvest. He tried to consider what they might be growing, but his thoughts were too heavy to admit distractions like that, and Jaune found his eyes turned northwards, to where some traces of the fire from the wreck of the Dingyuan still burned.

To where Pyrrha was, fighting, alone.

Alone with a whole bunch of Haven and Beacon students, alone with Arslan Altan, alone with the Mistralian forces providing covering fire, but still, in spite of all of that and all of them, alone.

Without him, without Penny, without Sunset. Alone.

"See anything?"

Jaune looked down. Nora was clinging to the outside of the car, arms resting on the roof, hands gripped around a couple of metal brackets directly above the doors. It looked a little uncomfortable, but despite that, Nora didn't seem uncomfortable, somehow.

"Uh, no," Jaune admitted. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Makes sense," Nora said as she pulled herself up onto the roof. Her legs kicked up and down at the air as she scrambled up, until finally, she was sitting on the roof, next to Jaune, her back turned to the front of the armoured car and the ground they drove over.

With one hand, she reached out and ran her fingers through Jaune's long blond hair.

Jaune recoiled, as much as the small hatch allowed. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Nora said. "I just … sorry." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about … I guess Ren can be a little mean."

"It's fine," Jaune said quickly.

"It can't be that fine, or you wouldn't be out here," Nora pointed out. "Ren didn't mean to … be mean. He didn't mean to make you feel bad; he just … Ren doesn't really get people, you know. How we feel, why we feel. Ren is … complicated that way. It's nothing personal."

"Right," Jaune murmured, not entirely convinced. Would Ren have really done that to anyone else?

Nora shrugged, as if, having said her piece, Jaune could take it or leave it. "So is it her or you?"

"Huh?"

"Who are you nervous about?" Nora asked. "Pyrrha, or you?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment, looking away from Nora again, towards where the fires still burned, to where the battle must have started again. "Pyrrha," he admitted. "I know that must sound really stupid, but—"

"No," Nora said. "No, it doesn't sound stupid at all. Because you've got Penny here, and all of us, and Pyrrha's got … who?"

Jaune closed his eyes for a moment. "Right," he said. "If anything … I'd rather die out here than come back and find that she wasn't there, because…"

Nora nodded. "If it helps," she said, "Pyrrha probably feels the same way about you."

Jaune looked at her. "How is that supposed to help?"

Nora hesitated for a second. "Well," she said, "because—"

"What was that?" Jaune said, pointing out to the north-west of them.

Nora twisted around. "What was what?"

"That, there!" Jaune cried, pointing even more insistently, jabbing his finger. It was hard to make out, but it looked like it was a nevermore with something … it was so hard to make out in the dark; he'd already lost sight of— "There!" Jaune yelled as it passed in front of the moon, the grimm silhouetted. Silhouetted, too, the object writhing and wriggling in its talons like a worm.

But it wasn't a worm; it was a person.

"I see it too," Nora said. "It's got somebody!"

"Yeah," Jaune murmured. "Yeah, it has."

He ducked down inside the armoured car, kneeling down in between the two front seats, his hands resting on them. "Did you guys see that?"

"See what?" asked Yang.

"The nevermore, up there," Jaune said, pointing out the windscreen and upwards.

"I—" Yang began, before the nevermore flitted away, out of the light of the moon. "It's gone."

"I can still see it," Penny said. "It looks as if it's got somebody, although I can't tell who."

"That's what I thought as well," Jaune said.

Yang glanced at him. "So what, you want to try and rescue them?"

"No," Jaune said. "Well, yeah, that would be great, but I thought, where is that nevermore taking them, whoever they are? And why?"

"I'm guessing you've got an answer," Yang said.

"Where do birds bring worms and stuff?" asked Jaune.

"To their nests," answered Yang.

"Exactly," said Jaune. "To feed others."

There was a moment of quiet in the rumbling armoured car.

"You think that the nevermore is bringing someone to the Apex Alpha … to feed them?" asked Ren.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Jaune asked, looking at Ren over his shoulder. "I mean they aren't just carrying a person around in their claws for the fun of it, and if they wanted to eat them, they could have done it already."

"Yeah, it makes sense," Yang said. She tapped her hands on the steering wheel. "It does make sense. It makes a nasty kind of sense, but it makes sense. Penny, can you still see that nevermore?"

"Yes," Penny said. "Although it's going down now."

"'Down'?" Yang asked. "Where?"

"That hill," Penny said, pointing to a barely visible looming shape in the darkness, a shadow that was almost impossible to make out except for the way that the sky seemed to abruptly stop, blocked out by it. "I don't know what it's called."

"If it's the one I think it is," Ruby said, getting up and moving forward; Jaune got out of her way so that she could take his place, standing between the two front seats. "Yes, that's Wreconsetun. There used to be a fortress there, built by King Tristan during Percy's War."

"A fort, huh?" Nora said, using the top hatch to scramble back inside the car from the rooftop. She fell through it, landing in the middle of the vehicle with a soft thump. She looked up. "Sounds like it could have done with one of those up there still."

Ruby shook her head. "We're talking about the really old days here, before Vale, or at least before a Vale that controlled everything that we now call Vale. The fort was built to defend the city against attack from other kingdoms, not from grimm, just like the old forts on the hills to the southeast of here. The obstacle to the grimm were — are — the hills themselves."

"They didn't work this time," Nora pointed out.

No, but I guess Salem isn't really that concerned most of the time, Jaune thought. She just really wants this attack to happen.

"A hill," Yang murmured. "With an old fort on it, so … it's high, right? We're not just talking about some bump in the landscape. Yeah, I can see that."

"You think that's where we'll find the Apex Alpha?" asked Penny.

"I think it makes as much sense as anywhere else we could look, and at least it gives us a direction to go in," Yang said. "Okay, let's check it out."

She twisted the steering wheel, turning the armoured car in the direction of the looming dark hill that lay ahead of them. It was still hard to make out, but as Yang accelerated their vehicle — making it rattle and rumble as it rushed across the tilled earth, disturbing the careful plough lines down the fields — the dark shape of their destination grew larger and larger in the windscreen.

Yang drove through a fence and into a field which turned out to be full of cows which mooed as they got of out of the way; she crashed through the fence on the other side too and drove through a hedge for good measure, sticks and leaves and brambles piling up on top of the bonnet before Yang got the armoured car onto a road leading — according a sign — up to the Wreconsetun.

There was no sign of any grimm; Ren's semblance, it seemed, was continuing to keep them at bay. Jaune didn't think they'd be so lucky as to find that the Apex Alpha had sent them all off to fight, leaving itself undefended.

Yeah, there's no way we'd be that lucky.

The road wound upwards, curving a bit, until it came to a stop at what seemed to be more or less the foot of the hill — maybe a little higher than that, but not much — at a car park outside what looked to be, or looked as though it had been, a visitor centre.

Had been before the grimm had come through here. The welcome sign had been chewed through, and only the letters 'WEL' and then 'WREO' on the line below told Jaune that it had been a welcome sign. The wood cabin, that put Jaune in mind of Benni Havens', had been torn down, with only the front wall really left standing. The machine to pay for the car park had been devoured, although they'd left a green plastic collection box alone, just like they'd left the toilets.

"Does anyone want to go quickly?" asked Yang as she got out of the armoured car.

Everyone looked at her.

Yang shut the door. "I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, come on!" She shook her head. "Anyway," she went on, looking up the hill. The road had stopped here, and the hill looked heavily wooded; there was a path setting off into the woods and up the hill, but it was a narrow path, too narrow for the car for sure. "Looks like we're walking from here."

Everyone got out their weapons. Ruby kept Crescent Rose in carbine mode, rather than unfurling her scythe, probably because it looked a little tight between those trees. Nora, on the other hand, unfolded her hammer and rested it on her shoulder. Ren's Stormflowers dropped out of his sleeves. Penny's swords floated around her. Jaune drew his sword and unfolded his shield.

Yang pumped her arms, causing her Ember Celica to expand up her forearms, ready to fire.

"Okay," she said. "I'll lead, then Ren and Nora, Ruby in the middle, Jaune and Penny bringing up the rear. Let's keep it tight and keep it quiet, okay? There's probably some grimm around here that we can't see. Ren, how's your aura?"

"I'm fine," Ren said, but he sounded a little bit tired while he said it.

"Jaune," Yang said. "Can you give him a little bit of a touch?"

"Sure," Jaune murmured. Ren didn't protest as Jaune put his hand on the other boy's shoulder, a faint golden light shimmering around Jaune's hand, gradually spreading out across Ren's shoulder, across his face and eventually over his entire body.

The shimmering light didn't engulf him very long; just a touch, Yang had said, and so Jaune only held onto Ren for a second, just boosting his aura back up a little bit, before he took his hand away, the golden light of his semblance fading from both of them.

But Ren straightened his back, and sounded a little fresher as he murmured. "Thank you."

"Let's move," Yang said; she turned away, her white skirt bouncing a little bit as she led them up the dirt trail that climbed the hill.

It wasn't always easy going; Jaune found that his trainers sometimes slipped on the dirt, struggling to find a purchase on the soft, uneven surface where things would roll or shift under his feet, not to mention the stones that actually got into his shoes and constantly reminded him that they were there and that there was nothing — short of stopping and taking his trainers off, which he couldn't really do — he could do about them. He was glad that it was only Penny behind him to see him sometimes struggling, although he was sure the others must have heard him sometimes. But they didn't say anything, just like Penny didn't say anything even when she had to give him a helping hand. She smiled, as though he was happy to help him, happy to stop him from slipping down the path, happy to help him up. Maybe she was; she didn't seem like the kind to pretend.

With Penny's help, and with a lot of determination, Jaune made sure that, although he might fall a little behind sometimes, he never lost sight of the others up ahead. He always kept Ruby's red cloak, that swayed a little from side to side, in his view; despite the darkness, he was sure to stick close enough, or to get back close enough, that he could see it in front of him.

It really was dark here; it wasn't as though there were any lights in this forest on this hill, and the trees were good at blocking out the moonlight. There were times when Jaune was as much fumbling his way as seeing it, straying off the path to grab hold of trees, hauling himself from tree to tree up the hillside, using the roots as steps from which his feet wouldn't slip. What he could see in the moonlight was mostly trees, trees that seemed to get closer around them, assuming strange shapes like they'd become grimm themselves, reaching out towards them with crooked arms and outstretched fingers.

They weren't silent, there was too much scuffling and shuffling and muttering — Jaune wasn't the only one who couldn't always keep his footing; he thought that Nora was having some trouble as well sometimes — not to mention a little bit of thumping and bumping too for that, but they were pretty quiet. They didn't talk; instead, they listened for the sound of grimm nearby. They didn't hear them; instead, they heard owls screeching in the trees and quiet creatures scratching and scrambling somewhere off in the darkness. A nightingale sang, somewhere in the trees, and turned Jaune's thoughts once more towards Pyrrha, fighting alone somewhere far away from him.

Take care of yourself, Pyrrha.

To distract himself from his concern, Jaune tried to imagine what this place might look like in the daylight. Not too bad, he was sure, or else … well, if nobody came up here, then what would be the point of a visitor centre? Perhaps he and Pyrrha could come back here together, one day, when all this was over. It would still be as much of a hike in daylight, but if he could see where he was going, then it wouldn't be so bad, and Pyrrha would devour the climb, he was sure. They could pack a lunch and have a picnic on top of the hill, with a lovely view of Vale spread out beneath them.

That sounded quite nice, didn't it?

A grimm bellowed ahead of them, shattering the quiet of the night, silencing owls and nightingales and everything else. It was a loud roar, so loud that Jaune thought that it must have come from a pretty big grimm to make a noise like that.

Like the grimm they'd come here to kill. But what had gotten it so agitated all of a sudden?

The question was answered by a gunshot, a familiar sounding … Jaune was sure that he'd heard that before, but—

"That's Distant Thunder," Ruby said. "That's Ciel's rifle."

"Ciel?" Penny asked.

The same gun fired again, joined by another gun, firing rapidly, that didn't stir a memory in Jaune's ears.

"You're right, it is Distant Thunder," Penny said. "But why? Is Ciel the one who—?"

Grimm started roaring on all sides, roaring from down the hill, howling from out of the trees, and amongst the howling, there was more shooting; the grimm made it hard to make out the gunshots exactly, but Jaune could certainly hear some shooting, even if he couldn't tell who or what.

"Whoever it is, sounds like they've started the party without us," Yang said. "Ren, stop masking us and conserve your aura, because we're about to make ourselves known in a big way. Now let's move!"

They started to run, scrambling up the hill; Jaune dug his sword into the earth to support himself as he ran up the slope, dodging between the trees, trying to keep up with the others. Ruby took the lead, although she seemed to be only mildly using her semblance — Jaune hardly saw any rose petals at all; she must not have wanted to get too far ahead and find herself all alone. Yang was next, although she had to get on all fours sometimes and scramble up on her hands and knees, then Ren, while Nora fell a little bit behind, closer to Jaune. Penny still brought up the rear; though she seemed to be trying to outpace Jaune, the length of her legs was making it hard for her.

Regardless, though some of them found it harder to make the final run than others, they did all make it, pounding up the path, footsteps hammering dirt and stones and twigs underfoot until they emerged from the trees into a clearing that marked the top of the hill, where a steep cliff fell away down one side, and old ruins sat alongside new buildings — another toilet, by the looks of it, as well as a dark CCT relay tower — under the moonlight. The path broadened out and got easier, and now, on the last stretch of the sprint up, Penny did overtake Jaune as they ran to the top of the hill to find a huge beringel, its whole body covered with armour, an axe buried in the ground — an axe? An axe? Where did it get an axe from? — behind it, directing the fight against … Rainbow Dash?

Penny was here.

Penny was here?

Penny was — you know what, fine, Penny was here; the more the merrier.

And to think we came here to save you.

Penny was hit by an ursa, hurled by the Apex Alpha beringel. She was borne backwards, pinned beneath the massive weight of the grimm which roared as it started to pick itself up.

Maybe I still can save you.

Rainbow ran towards her, a rainbow trailing out behind her. A beringel got in her way, the same beringel that Penny had impaled with her swords but which seemed now to be both free of the swords and not yet dead. Rainbow jumped, kicking off the ground, firing Undying Loyalty as she did so. It didn't kill the beringel, but it did bother it at least, and while it was recoiling from the shot, Rainbow's jump had carried her over the grimm's head and behind it. She charged for the ursa.

Ruby — okay, Ruby was here too — had gotten there before her, unfurling her scythe and stabbing it down into the ursa's back between two of its large bone spurs. Ruby pulled, either trying to cut the grimm or pull it off Penny, but not quite managing either one, though she hauled at it with all that she had, her arms straining.

Yang threw herself at the ursa as well, punching it in the face repeatedly, shots firing from her gauntlets as she pounded the ursa with uppercut after uppercut, trying not just to kill the ursa but in the meantime to make sure that it was never in a position to bite down on Penny.

Rainbow closed the distance, shoved Undying Loyalty into the ursa's backside, and pulled the trigger.

The ursa's wincing yelp of pain was louder than the roar of Yang's gauntlets as it stumbled forwards, pushing Yang backwards with sheer force even if it did get off of Penny a little.

Ruby extracted her scythe from out of the black flesh, spinning, reversing the blade before, as the ursa tried to rise onto its hind legs, cutting up to slice the edge into its neck.

Ruby pulled, and this time, the scythe blade went cleanly through the ursa's neck and cut off its head.

The headless ursa fell, still partly on top of Penny.

Ruby and Yang set to digging her out, but Rainbow had other problems, like the beringel, still alive, that nearly managed to grab her from behind. Rainbow slipped out of its fumbling grasp, turning to face it once again.

The beringel assumed a boxing stance, hands up, fists clenched, protecting its face from attack. It was such a surprising sight that the beringel almost got Rainbow with the first punch, she barely dodged it. She was better prepared for the second, and the third, giving up ground, swaying at the hips to let the punches fly past her. On the other blow, letting Undying Loyalty fall to the ground, Rainbow stepped forward, inside the beringel's guard, her own fists clenching as she hit it square in the face once, twice, three times, four times, no way this grimm could take much more—

The beringel bent over, wrapping its arms around Rainbow as it got her in a clinch. Rainbow's aura flared as the beringel squeezed her.

It wasn't as tight as the goliath's trunk. but it was still going to wear away at her aura if it kept up, and it had just made itself harder to hit.

Harder, but not impossible.

Rainbow clasped her hands together and brought them down in an axe blow onto the small of the beringel's back; she didn't make much of an aura boom, more of an aura suppressed gunshot, only using about five percent of her aura, if that, but it was enough to make the beringel go limp, its back arching, its arms falling away from Rainbow's waist. Rainbow pushed it off, then hit it one last time for good measure, a final blow that shattered the beringel's mask and started the grimm's disintegration.

Nora ran past Rainbow Dash, hammer drawn back as she charged straight towards the Apex Alpha, unmistakable for its size, its armour plating, the helmet-like growth on its head. She rushed towards it, no bodyguard getting in her way — Distant Thunder roared as Ciel dropped another beringel — as she closed the distance.

The Apex Alpha turned its head towards her.

Nora bellowed wordlessly as she swung her hammer.

The Apex Alpha caught the hammer in one hand, stopping its momentum at once. The enormous beringel grunted as it tossed the hammer aside and Nora with it, sending her flying into a tree at the back of the hill. She hit the ground, back and body bending in a way that would have been terrifying if she'd had no aura left, before she flopped down onto the ground.

"Nora!" Ren yelled, firing both his machine pistols. Green bullets bounced and skittered off the huge beringel's armour plate, but it ignored Ren and his fire as it picked up its big axe, lifting it out of the ground — yeah, it was a piece of airship metal, like off a skyliner, all jagged and crinkled edges — and stomping over to where Nora lay.

It held the axe in one hand but didn't use it; instead, it raised its other fist, with the knuckleduster spikes growing out them, and punched down towards her.

Jaune threw himself between Nora and the Apex Alpha, his shield glowing with shimmering white-gold light as he tried to use his semblance to bolster himself against the attack.

That was probably the only reason he wasn't driven into the ground. Instead, when the blow landed, Jaune's legs were driven apart, one foot scraping backwards, the other dropping, both knees trembling, but for a moment, it looked like he was going to hold firm even against the huge strength of the grimm.

The Apex Alpha raised its fist and hit him again. This second blow drove Jaune to his knees, blade driven into the ground for some support. Jaune kept his shield up, but the third blow dropped him completely.

Penny was up on her feet, firing all her lasers, green bolts lancing across the hilltop to hit the Apex Alpha from behind, but the grimm ignored it the same way that it was ignoring Ren's bullets.

It raised its axe in both hands overhead.

Ruby streaked across the beringel’s path, trailing rose petals after her, cape flying as she swung her scythe at the grimm’s ankles. The blade skittered off the Apex Alpha’s armour, doing no harm, but she got the grimm’s attention nonetheless.

Ruby came to halt, Crescent Rose drawn back behind her, a smirk on her pale face.

The giant beringel turned its attention towards her, bringing its axe down on the ground where Ruby had stood before she darted away, leaving only rosepetals in her wake.

The grimm raised its axe and brought it down, driving the shard of metal into the ground over and over again, never able to hit Ruby as she darted left and right, always keeping herself more or less in front of him, using her semblance to avoid the blows, lashing out with her scythe to glance off the armour that covered the beringel from head to toe.

And while she kept the Apex Alpha distracted, constantly avoiding any blow that it sought to hit her with, Ren rushed to Nora’s side and helped her away. Yang did the same with Jaune.

Rainbow watched Ruby danced in front of the beringel, wondering how long she could keep it up; she wasn’t worried that the grimm would hit Ruby — she was consistently too fast for it; the only thing she had to worry about was burning her aura up through use of her semblance — but rather that the grimm would eventually get bored with this little game of whack-a-Ruby that it was impossible to win, but also impossible to lose. Sure, Ruby could not get hit thanks to her semblance, but not a single hit she was landing on the Apex Alpha was doing anything to it; she might as well have been spitting at it. There was nothing to stop the beringel ignoring Ruby the way that it had ignored Ren or Penny, except a degree of irritation. Once it got bored with this, then…

Rainbow had hoped that a sufficiently powerful hit would break through the Apex Alpha’s armour; she was no longer so sure about that.

She forced her mind to work faster than her semblance; the Apex Alpha’s guards were mostly taken care of by now, but the howling and the roaring of all the other grimm coming to their leader’s aid was only getting louder and louder.

Rainbow’s eyes darted around. They needed to wrap this up, but how? This Apex Alpha was so…

The first of the reinforcing grimm started to bound through the trees up from the back of the hill, but it was going to be okay because Rainbow had the plan.

“Penny!” she shouted. Rainbow pointed towards the grimm charging out of the trees. “Take care of those grimm, don’t let them get close; Ciel will back you up.”

Ciel didn’t have any orders to that effect, but Rainbow trusted Ciel’s judgement on what to do once the bodyguards had been dealt with.

Distant Thunder roared, and the alpha beowolf of one of the reinforcing packs had their torso blown apart, vindicating Rainbow’s judgement.

“You’ve got it,” Penny said.

Rainbow nodded. “Yang, Ren, you too, we need to hold them off for just a little while, buy some time.”

“Right,” Yang said before she started to scream wordlessly and charged into grimm, her gauntlets blazing.

Ren followed her a little more cautiously, firing with both his machine pistols.

Rainbow sped across the field to Blake, who had just finished despatching the last beringel bodyguard. “Blake,” Rainbow said. “I need you to help Ruby; together, you need to lead it towards the edge of that cliff, or at least facing the cliff. Hopefully, Ruby will get that once you start to do it.”

“I … think I get it,” Blake said.

“Good for you,” Rainbow said, and trusted her to get on with it as she raced back towards Jaune and Nora. “Okay, Nora, I need you to shock yourself somehow; try that damaged relay tower. That’s how your semblance works, right?”

“Uh huh,” Nora said.

“Great,” Rainbow said. “And Jaune, once Blake and Ruby have led the grimm away toward that edge, we’re going to get behind it, and I need you to be ready to give me a boost.”

“Are we going to do a cannonball to push it over the edge?” Jaune asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “I’m going to knock it over the edge and down the cliff — the impact ought to crack its armour — and then Nora is going to finish it off.”

Blake got to work hurling herself on the flank of the giant beringel; her whole body whirled, her black ribbon spun around her as though she was a Mistralian dancer, and she struck with blade and cleaver, both blades scraping off the grimm's armour in a shower of sparks.

The Apex Alpha grunted as it glared at her.

Blake landed on the ground, barely resting for a moment before she threw herself at the giant beringel again.

The grimm swiped at her with a contemptuous paw.

Blake disappeared, leaving behind a fire clone that exploded in a burst of flame that wrapped around the Apex Alpha's paw even as the real Blake dropped on the grimm from above, landing on one of its spiky shoulders. The grimm shook and reached for its own shoulder to grab or pull her off. Blake leapt before she could be caught, doing a backflip in mid-air to land facing the grimm.

As the Apex Alpha turned towards her, Blake gave a little gesture towards Ruby, motioning for her to join Blake.

Ruby darted between the Apex Alpha's legs, Crescent Rose scraping against the grimm's armoured ankle as she went.

She came to a stop alongside Blake, raising Crescent Rose to snap off a shot that ricocheted off the beringel's armour.

Blake switched Gambol Shroud from sword to pistol mode, firing some more fire dust rounds that started a fire on the beringel's upper arm. It didn't seem to hurt the big grimm, exactly, but it did annoy it enough that it went for Blake, its big axe swinging.

Blake and Ruby retreated before it, using their semblances to stay out of trouble, speeding away or using a clone to take their place so that no blow — no chop of the axe, no swipe of a paw, no spiked-knuckle punch — could land on them. The Apex Alpha pursued them, pushing them back to the edge of the sharp drop down the hillside.

The armoured beringel, commander of the horde, faced the two of them with the sharp drop behind.

It must have been so confident in its ability to withstand any attack — with good reason, admittedly — to just ignore the others, as if it could deal with them whenever it wished, after it had dealt with Blake and Ruby.

More fool it, because while it had been chasing them to the edge of the drop-off, Rainbow, Jaune, and Nora had gotten behind it.

Nora stood at the CCT Relay tower. It was broken, leaning to one side, the control panels smashed, wires hanging out — but those wires were still sparking.

Nora jammed her hand into the broken control box, her whole body shaking and contorting as the electricity travelled up and down her body.

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash stood on Jaune's shield, half-angled towards the Apex Alpha, the golden light of Jaune's semblance travelling from her feet up to surround her.

Rainbow had never felt Jaune's semblance like this before. He'd given her a top-up to her aura before, but this was something else; this … this felt so comforting, and so powerful too. She felt at the same time as though there was nothing to worry about and as though she could run all the way to Atlas, right over the water.

She felt as though she could do anything.

She certainly felt as though she could knock this beringel on its back.

The Apex Alpha, driven by some instinct, turned to look at her.

Rainbow launched herself off Jaune's shield with a kick more powerful than the thrust of Wings of Harmony, tracing a brilliant rainbow through the darkness as she shot like a bullet towards the grimm.

The beringel had no time to move; Rainbow was much too fast, and to her eyes, the grimm was moving oh-so-slow.

She drew back her fist, and as she slammed into the beringel at high speed, she hit it with an aura boom, burning the enhanced aura that Jaune had boosted while at the same time feeling like she hadn't used my aura at all. There was a bang louder than the report of Distant Thunder; the beringel let out an astonished hoot as it was picked up off the ground and thrown, over the heads of Ruby and Blake, off the edge of the drop.

The grimm's enormous arms flailed as it hit the ground and started to bounce and roll down the hill. The bone spikes on its shoulders snapped off, and plates began to crack under the impact.

Rainbow unfurled the Wings of Harmony, the jetpack firing to lift her up, off and away from the beringel as it fell.

The grimm stopped, digging one massive hand into the earth to stop its descent, holding on as it lay on its front, looking upwards.

The armour plates on its back were cracked and chipped.

Nora cackled loudly as leapt off the cliff, hammer raised over her head, her back bent backwards.

She was still cackling as she dropped like a rock onto the grimm, bringing her hammer straight down onto the broken armour of the beringel's back.

The armour of the grimm shattered, the hammer punching down into the grimm's black flesh. The Apex Alpha roared in pain, its back arching.

Nora yelled triumphantly as she rushed up the broken armour plates up onto the grimm's shoulders and brought her hammer down again onto the Apex Alpha's head.

Bone horns and helmet shattered into splinters, and Nora's hammer crushed the head beneath.

The remains of the head lolled to one side, and the beringel's grip on the ground loosened.

Rainbow swooped downwards, grabbing Nora bridal style and carrying her upwards before the grimm dissolved and she fell down the hill herself.

"You guys have a plan to get out of here?" Rainbow asked as the grimm howled in fury at the death of their leader. With the Apex Alpha dead, the horde might lose its coordination overall, but in the short term, they were on a hill with a lot of angry grimm headed their way.

"We've got a car waiting down the hill," Nora said.

"Down the hill?" Rainbow repeated as she set Nora down on the hilltop. "Never mind that; you can fly out with us."

As if on cue, their Skyray swooped down out of the night to hover, side door open, just beyond the drop.

"Everybody get aboard!" Rainbow shouted. "Move!"

Rainbow drew her machine pistols, stepping forward to open fire on the grimm as the others piled aboard the airship, feet hammering upon the metal as they leapt inside. First Nora, then Ruby and Blake, then Jaune, then Yang and Ren, Rainbow herself the last aboard, still firing with Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome as the furious grimm rushed towards them.

The Skyray pulled away as soon as she was aboard; a beowolf tried to leap for them but missed; as the Skyray rose into the air, the beowolf plunged down the steep drop where the Apex Alpha was beginning to decompose.

The door to the airship slid shut.

“Congratulations, everybody,” Rainbow declared. “We just cut the head off a snake!”

Premature Celebration (New)

Premature Celebration

The attack took the form of a single pack of beowolves.

A pretty large pack, all things considered, twenty or maybe even thirty beowolves, but still just one pack. One pack, under a single alpha, breaking out of the dark to rush the Atlesian line, roaring and howling.

Their roars and howls of anger were swiftly drowned out by the gunfire that erupted from across the Atlesian line as the Military Huntsman of the Fourth Battalion and neighbouring troops from the Third opened up on the grimm with everything they had.

Starlight fired too, snapping off shot after shot with Equaliser, blue bolts flying through the air.

The beowolves were large — this was not a pack full of the young — and it took several shots even from Equaliser to bring them down, they soaked up bullets; it took a rocket to get a clean kill or a shot from the cannons of a Paladin. But, though it took a hail of rifle and machine gun fire, though it took multiple bolts from Starlight's rifle, though it took Trixie unleashing a torrent of fire from the tip of her wand, amplified by wind dust from Sunburst's staff to create a inferno erupting out to engulf the grimm, though it took all of that to bring them down, the beowolves were brought down. They died, and not a single one of them managed to reach the Atlesian line before they died.

The sound of shooting made Starlight look down the line, to where a single ursa major, alone and unsupported, was withering under sustained fire. It tried to lumber forward in spite of that, bullets and rockets slamming into it, before eventually, it stopped walking, swayed in place like a drunken man, and toppled down dead onto the ground.

"Is it me," Sun said, "or has this gotten a lot easier lately?"

"It's not just you," Starlight replied.

Recently — and it was very recent; until then, they had felt quite hard-pressed — the grimm had seemed to lose their coordination. The last mass wave of grimm to charge the Atlesian line in all its fury, the kind of wall of black with bony masks of the kind that Team TTSS had faced at the fairground, had been defeated, repulsed. Repulsed with some cost, but not with such great cost that it had left the line in jeopardy of falling. The Third was not so well positioned as the Fourth behind its rampart, but it had held its ground and could have held its ground for at least one more, two more, some more attacks just like that. Maybe it couldn't have held the line all night against such furious assaults, but it hadn't been in imminent danger of snapping like an elastic band that had been stretched out too many times either. There was strength in the Third Battalion yet, vigour to hold back another all-out grimm attack, especially since their spider droids on the back line had gotten into position and were able to provide some fire support, hurling shells and missiles over the Atlesian line to burst amongst the grimm in front of them.

That, in turn, meant that the airships, no longer the only source of fire support for the infantry in front, were able to devote some more of their fire to protecting themselves against the flying grimm that tried to swarm them. Missiles flew from the hulls of cruisers to hit nevermores and griffons on the wing, consuming them in fire or knocking them out of the sky where they turned to ash before they hit the ground.

They had held, and they had it in them to keep holding against other similar attacks.

If there had been another attack like it.

But there hadn't been. The enormous waves of grimm that had crashed against the line had stopped, and instead, there had been a lot of tiny little piecemeal attacks, small groups of grimm rushing out of the night on their own, without any other grimm supporting them: a pack of beowolves here, some ursai there, a group of creeps, a goliath or two. In place of unified hammer blows, the grimm were making pinpricks which didn't even prick because, by exposing themselves to such concentrated fire from across the Atlesian line, the grimm only ensured that they got shot down before they got anywhere near it. None of these attacks had wounded anyone, much less killed them. The only thing that they had maybe done was use up some Atlesian ammunition, and there was plenty more where that came from — even Starlight had power packs to keep on firing, and she'd have more trouble replenishing her supplies than most.

It wasn't a numbers issue. There were still plenty of grimm out there; she could hear them. She could see them, some of them, not attacking, but close enough to catch enough of a look to tell that they were still present in numbers. It wasn't like they'd killed them all and only a few stragglers remained to be mopped up. Nobody had pulled an Ozpin-like semblance — if that was his semblance, which Starlight doubted; she thought it was more likely to be some kind of magic, maybe even a Maiden's magic, though she couldn't work out who the Maiden who had unleashed the magic might be. That Ruby girl? Starlight hadn't seen her during the battle — out of nowhere to destroy the grimm but this time leave a few of them standing, no. The horde was still a horde, or at least it was still as large as a horde, still numerous and powerful, still with a lot of grimm to throw at them.

Not a numbers issue then, more like a loss of all cohesion, a loss of coordination, a loss of control. They were like an army where communications had broken down and the officers were too headstrong to follow the plan that had been laid out for them, like Mistralian armies where it had been difficult to order great lords and their followers around simply because they were great lords and so they did what they wanted as often as not.

It was like that, only it had happened all of a sudden, in the middle of a battle.

"Do you think it’s possible," Rarity murmured, "that they might be planning something?"

"Planning what?" Trixie asked, looking at her over her shoulder.

“I’ve really no idea,” Rarity admitted. “But to make us let our guards down?”

Trixie paused. "We don't do that, obviously," she said. "The Grrrreat Team Tsunami shall remain ever vigilant, ever prepared, ever ready to resist the darkness!" She raised her wand up above her head. "But Trixie doesn't think that's likely. Considering how they've been attacking up until now, it's a little late for them to start trying to act weak, don't you think?"

"Maybe they've given up?" Sun suggested. "Maybe they don't think they can break through here, so they're … all attacking the Mistralians, maybe?"

"Except that they're not all attacking the Mistralians," Starlight pointed. "They're attacking here; they're just doing it badly." Now it was her turn to pause for a second. "I've gotta wonder if this is Dash and Blake's doing?"

"Blake?" Sun asked. "What does Blake have to do with this?"

"Maybe nothing, I don't know," Starlight admitted. "But Rainbow Dash, Blake, and Ciel Soleil took off in an airship in the middle of a battle, and then, not long after … I'm just saying, one thing that could explain the grimm falling to pieces like this is the Apex Alpha going down. That would also explain what's going on over there." She gestured behind them and to the east, where the fire from the Fourth Battalion on the ramparts and the walls had not slackened off in intensity one bit. While the small arms of the Third Battalion had fallen silent, and only the spider droids and the mortars were continuing to harass the grimm with indirect fire, up on the ramparts, the gunfire sounded as loud as ever. "They don't sound as though they're getting the same break as us, do they?"

Sun frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think Rainbow, Blake, and Ciel took out the leader of the horde on this side, which is why we're getting a respite," Starlight explained. "The grimm here have no leader to direct them, so they're all just doing their own thing without any organisation — and so much better for us. The grimm to the north, though, they're still a horde, they still have their Apex Alpha, so that's why the attack's still going strong."

Sun scratched the side of his head with one hand. "Okay, but … why can't the Apex Alpha that's still alive just take over the other horde as well?"

"Maybe they will," Sunburst said. "But it seems like they can't do it straight away. To be honest, more than one horde at the same time is so rare, we don't really know how it all works."

"I guess," said Sun. "Do you really think they did that? Blake did that?"

"It makes sense, right?" Starlight asked. "Plus, if General Ironwood was going to ask anyone to do that, he'd ask Dash and Blake."

"Although Team Tsunami could have done it just as easily as they could, if the General had asked us instead," declared Trixie.

Starlight smiled. "Green isn't your colour, Trix."

"Trixie was just saying!"

"Whether or not anyone else could have done it," Maud said softly, "if they did it, it's impressive work."

"Yeah, really impressive," Sun replied. "Makes me wish I could have gotten here just a little faster; then I could have gone with them."

"Think of it like this," Starlight said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You're here now to be the first one to congratulate Blake when she gets back."

General Ironwood studied the displays on the screen in front of him, abstracted images showing the state of the battlefield — Atlesian lines in white, icons denoting the positions of cruisers, black masses representing the concentrations of the grimm — combined with drone footage of the actual battle itself. It looked, from his elevated perspective, as though the attacks on the Third Battalion, holding the flank of the Atlesian line, were slackening off, even as attacks on the Fourth and First in front were continuing at the same level of intensity.

On the right hand side of the selection of images, a single camera from a single drone was still capturing the action of the Beacon and Haven students. They, too, looked to be having a slightly easier time of it, despite the loss of the Mistralian battleship.

He hadn't heard from Dash yet — possibly because he was on a call — but what he was seeing was giving him hope that she, Belladonna, and Soleil had been successful in their mission.

Now, if only he heard from them to confirm that was the case — and that they had come through it okay — then he would be well satisfied.

Yes, from his perspective, the battle appeared to be shifting in their favour; now, he wanted to hear what the eyes on the ground thought about it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, although as it happened, he was only addressing one lady. "Situation report, if you please."

"The position is holding," said Colonel Redfern Buller of the First Squadron. "I've shifted the Thunderchild to the right to provide additional cover for the Fourth following the loss of the Gallant, and since the Emerald Forest seems pretty quiet, I've stripped out two platoons from First Company to reinforce the centre of the line. I think the grimm in the woods must have given everything they had to that attack on Beacon."

"Perhaps," Ironwood allowed. "But do you need both platoons for your centre to hold?"

"They weren't doing much where they were, sir," replied Buller.

"All the same, I don't want our left flank to collapse because we got complacent," Ironwood replied. "Move one platoon back to the left just in case, unless you think there's an imminent danger of a grimm breakthrough." After all, until Ozpin had set off his … whatever it was that he'd actually done, grimm had been continuing to emerge out of the woods to try and scale the cliffs; it was a lot to hope that they'd just reached the end of that particular concentration when Ozpin had done his thing and killed them all. More likely, they had either slipped out of the forest to join the main assault on the Green Line, or they were biding their time, waiting for more favourable circumstances to attack again elsewhere.

Or their Apex Alpha had died at Beacon, and the grimm left in the forest were leaderless, disorganised and incapable of further offensive action tonight. That was also a possibility.

Not a possibility that he wanted to count on, however. It would be a fine thing to hold their right flank only to get turned on the left.

"Yes, sir," Buller said. "I'll pass the order to Dunnett at once."

"The Fourth is holding strong as well, sir," Harper added. "We've had a couple of close calls, but I've got to say, those kids have really been showing their mettle."

Ironwood smiled, for all that he knew that none of the senior officers, all speaking to him by voice only, could see it. "I'm not surprised, Colonel, but I'm glad to hear it all the same. Any concerns?"

"With Gallant down and Resolution damaged, I've only got Courageous and Vigilant for cruiser support," Harper reminded him. "I'm grateful for the assistance from Thunderchild — thank you, Colonel — but … we'll make do, sir. My main concern is that there just doesn't seem to be an end to the bastards."

"How are you fixed for ammunition?" Ironwood asked.

"I've just sent for another drop from our supply ship," Harper said. "So long as we don't lose the skies, I think we'll manage."

"Understood," Ironwood said. "Palmer, from observation, it looks as though the grimm are slacking off; is that how it feels?"

"It certainly seems so at the moment, General," replied Colonel Ohrid Palmer of the Third Squadron. "My infantry weathered the initial grimm assaults, but I was worried that it might be touch and go if they kept on throwing themselves at us with that much ferocity; however, it seems to have died down; we're only seeing sporadic attacks against our line by small forces, nothing that we can't handle. The Lady must be smiling on us."

"Perhaps she knows she still has some worshippers in the ranks," Ironwood replied. "Harper, in light of the fact that the danger to the right flank appears to have reduced, and the fact that the Third is present to hold that flank, move your Military Huntsman company to face front and reinforce your line. Palmer, shift your battalion leftwards to take over that position and continue to cover the right flank of Fourth Battalion. To that end, I also want you to move the Audacious over the pivot point between the two units to cover both battalions and partially compensate for the loss of Gallant."

"I could do more than that, if necessary, sir," Palmer suggested.

"I'm sure you could, but like with our left, I don't want to take too big of a risk in case the grimm come back," Ironwood said. "Keep the bulk of your squadron facing right, ready to meet any future attacks, large or small."

"Yes, sir."

"How's morale?" Ironwood asked.

"Very good, sir," Palmer replied.

"High," Harper said. "But a little tiredness might be starting to set in."

"It's the same here, sir," added Buller.

"That's unfortunate, but it can't be helped," Ironwood said. "Remind them that the night won't last forever. The dawn will come, and with it, a chance for respite. They just need to stick it out for a while longer."

"And if the attack continues tomorrow, sir?" asked Buller.

"I don't think that's likely, Colonel," Ironwood said. If what Cinder Fall said is true, then Salem is aiming to get the Relic tonight, and all of this is just window dressing for that. "The grimm won't continue to attack until all of them are dead; once it becomes clear that they can't breach our line, then they'll start to slink away."

Certainly, if his instinct was correct, and Dash, Belladonna, and Soleil had successfully completed their mission, then come morning, the horde on the right, leaderless, would start to dissolve into its component groups — indeed, the loss of coordination in the attack was a sign that it had already started to do so — and some of those packs would retreat to easier hunting grounds. Others might remain, trying to occupy a plot of land beyond the Green Line as their territory, but they could be easily dealt with in detail, and even if the other horde remained intact, it would be vulnerable at that point to a flank attack.

"I hope you're right, sir," said Buller.

"So do I, Buller, so do I," Ironwood replied. He took a breath. "While the losses suffered so far are regrettable, it appears that the plans devised and measures put in place before this battle began are working. All of you continue to hold fast, and both we and Vale will live to see another day. And tell the men and women how proud I am of them."

"Yes, sir," the three commanding officers chorused at once.

"That's all; I'll let you get back to it. Ironwood out."

"A good night, sir," said Fitzjames. "One for the annals."

"It's not over yet, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "But yes, so far, it's been a good night."

"Sir," des Voeux said, "Cadet Dash is hailing. I think she's been trying to reach you for some time, but you—"

"Put her through," Ironwood said at once. "Dash?"

"Mission complete, sir," Dash said simply.

"Bravo!" declared Fitzjames, as a triumphant whoop rippled across the Valiant's CIC.

Ironwood chuckled. "As you might have just heard, Dash, you've made the bridge officers very happy."

"Glad we could help, sir," Dash said.

"Cough! Cough!" said a female voice that Ironwood didn't recognise.

"Yes, Nora, I'm gonna tell him," Dash said. She cleared her throat. "Sir, we ran into some Beacon students on top of the hill — that's where we found the Apex Alpha — who'd had the same idea as you. We couldn't have done it without them."

"I see," Ironwood said. "Since it seems they can all hear me: did Ozpin send you?"

"Um, no, sir," murmured another young woman, not the one who had said 'cough.' "It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It seems it was a good idea," Ironwood observed. "Congratulations, all of you. Any casualties or injuries?"

"No, sir," Dash said. "We're all good."

Ironwood relaxed his hands, clasped behind his back, a fraction. "Excellent. Come home, Dash."

"Yes, sir, but if I can just drop the Beacon students off first?"

"Of course," Ironwood said. "Then return to Fourth Battalion HQ."

"Aye aye, sir," Dash said. "Dash out."

Ironwood allowed himself a momentary glance upwards, at the brightly lit metallic ceiling of the bridge.

So they had done it. They had done it, and they had done so without casualties or injuries.

It occurred to him that perhaps he should have asked for the names of the Beacon students, so he could have passed them onto Ozpin.

Ah, well; no doubt, the word of their accomplishment would reach Ozpin somehow, at some point. 'Nora' and the other students would be the talk of Beacon tomorrow. Miss Nikos and her tournament victory would be put in the shade.

One horde effectively neutralised, another drastically reduced in number and seemingly quiescent for now, and the last stymied in its frontal assault on the Atlesian positions. Amity Arena protected, Beacon defended, the Valish Defence Force neutralised. They were victorious on all fronts.

As Fitzjames had said, a good night.

Is this all that you have, Salem? Ironwood wondered. Is this all that you can throw at us?

Come with your monsters, come with your fury, come in the dark of the night and beat against us like a hurricane, like waves upon the shore, and we will meet you with such fire as you cannot dream of, with such destructive power as all your grimm hordes cannot match. Against teeth and claws, we will match all the latest technological advancements — and the bravest men and women you've ever seen to wield them.

Send all your grimm from every corner of Remnant, and we will shock them.

So what else have you got?

The cyclops fell to the ground with an almighty crash.

As it began to turn to ashes and smoke, Pyrrha extracted Miló from out of its eye.

She looked around her for her next opponent — or next victim.

She found … none.

Pyrrha stood on the far side of the wreckage of the Dingyuan, or at least for the most part, she did. The detritus of the explosion had been flung too far, it had scattered too widely, for Pyrrha to say that she had gone beyond all of it — there were still some twisted pieces and fragments out there, half buried in the earth — but she had passed beyond the bulk of the wreckage, beyond the smouldering shell that remained of the once-proud vessel, beyond the half-intact compartments and the most major fragments; she was, it could fairly be said, on the far side of the ship. She, and Arslan, and others, having plunged into the remains of the battleship in order to fight the grimm on a more even footing, without the horde being able to bring its vast numbers to bear, had fought their way through the debris, slaying every grimm that they had come across along the way, and now, they had come out of the ship and stood beyond it, with only a few scraps of metal to contest their claim.

Having done all that, having fought so far, the very logic that had driven them into the remains of the vessel in the first place should, by the same token, have led them to have to fall back into it, in the face of the sheer numbers of the grimm that would bear down upon them, with nothing to break up their relentless attack.

And yet, having emerged from the remains of the vessel, having slain the grimm — like the cyclops decomposing at her feet — that confronted them there, they now, like Pyrrha, looked up and found the grimm were gone.

They were not here, or at least, Pyrrha couldn't see them. Her green eyes peered into the darkness before her, scanned the ground around the fires — began by the destruction of the Dingyuan — which continued to faintly burn in the night; she sought for any sign that the moonlight could provide.

Her ears told her that the grimm had not all slipped away; she could still hear them, growling, snarling, snuffling. But their sounds were more muted now than they had been, or so it seemed to Pyrrha, at least. The grimm had been all anger, all fury, and they had let Remnant know of their fury by the bellowing shouts that they had made, by the trumpeting of the goliaths, by the howling of the beowolves; the grimm had come, and they had wanted all to know of their coming, just as they had wanted fear to come before them, carried by the cacophony they made. Now, the grimm sounded quieter, making noise, but making not only less of it, but less aggressive noise besides, the sort of noise they might have made if huntsmen had been hunting them and come upon them by surprise.

And they were out of sight. They stayed out of sight and did not…

Pyrrha's ears pricked up as at least some of the softer sounds of the grimm began to rise again, to become once more angry-sounding and aggressive.

She took a step back, Akoúo̱ raised to cover half her face as a group of beowolves bounded out of the darkness. One swiped at her, but Pyrrha turned the blow aside with her shield before thrusting up with Miló to pierce the snarling grimm through its mouth. The beowolf, feet lifted upward off the ground, hung from Pyrrha's spear like a fish as Pyrrha spun on her toe and hit another beowolf with the body of its fellow monster before it could dissolve.

Miló transformed from spear to sword in her hand, the dissolving body dropping to the ground as Pyrrha turned again, sash fluttering around her, to hack off the forearm of a third beowolf. It howled in pain as Pyrrha stepped forward, slashing across its chest, her arm a blur, before the grimm fell down dead to the ground.

As the second beowolf, the one that she had hit with another grimm, started to rise, Pyrrha flung Akoúo̱ at it; the bronze shield caught the moonlight as it hit the grimm square on the snout hard enough to crack its bone mask, before flying back onto Pyrrha's arm as the beowolf began to dissolve.

And then, once more, there were no grimm to be seen. None willing to come out and fight. None willing to even make the noise to signal such a willingness.

Arslan looked around. "This is a bit odd, isn't it?" She paused. "Or is that we've won?"

"I would say that it is odd," Pyrrha murmured. "You can still hear the grimm out there — we have not killed them all — so why do they not come out and fight?"

Arslan hesitated for a moment. She licked her lips before she said, "Perhaps Jaune and the others did it. I mean, when the Red Lion killed the big grimm, all the others just … I mean, that's the point, isn't it? He killed the leader of the horde, and the horde was broken. The forces of Mistral won the day."

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, that is so."

With the death of the Apex Alpha, the grimm horde that had threatened Kuchinashi had been thrown into confusion, leaderless, listless. The Lady Kommenos of the time, wielding Soteria, had led the forces of Mistral in a charge that broke the grimm, scattering them to the four winds in dribs and drabs and patches.

Perhaps we should charge, as they did, and scatter the grimm before Vale just as they were scattered before Kuchinashi. Pyrrha could not help but think — much as it was somewhat embarrassing to think — that if she were to give the command, if she were to raise Miló above her head and call out 'charge!' then people would probably obey her. They would let out a loud war cry, strike the moon above, and they would plunge into the darkness to take the fight to the grimm.

It was embarrassing, but she might have done it nonetheless if she had been convinced that it was the thing to do. A part of her longed to do it, not to lead the charge but to make it, to rush forward with Miló drawn back and cleave her way through all these grimm until she fought her way to Jaune.

To Jaune, if he had done this. To Jaune and Penny. To where they had all slain the Apex Alpha, if indeed they had — there was no proof, though Arslan's logic was compelling. To fight her way to them, to reach them and find them…

And find them alive, she hoped. In the absence of grimm, in the absence of distraction provided by the grimm, in the absence of immediate struggle to focus the mind and drive of all idle and unhelpful thoughts, those thoughts crowded about her just as the dark of night that made them stand out sharper than they would have in the sun.

The Red Lion had slain the Apex Alpha, broken the grimm horde, saved Kuchinashi, paved the way for the Mistralian victory … and had been found by the Emperor and his bodyguards dead on the ground, and many of his gallant comrades with him, his armour rent and torn, his body covered in wounds.

Two fears had Pyrrha, two fears she felt wrapped around, their hands around her neck, her gilded gorget unable to resist them. The first, that they would be caught as they sought the Apex Alpha, caught and killed even ere they found their quarry; the second, that they would succeed, as it seemed they had succeeded, but be unable to escape, unable to reach the car, unable to get away, unable to return though she climbed Professor Ozpin's tower to watch for him.

Some might call it noble, but that would be a poor balm to Pyrrha's heart even so.

It would soothe my heart no more if you were to perish also, Yang.

The idea of finding Jaune and Penny somewhere out there, of reaching them more swiftly, made the idea of a charge, a mad rush onwards into the suddenly quiescent grimm, a tempting prospect. Even more tempting was the idea of yet more battle to drive out fear and worry from her mind, to hew through the hands about her neck, to be consumed in battle and forget all else beyond the fight; it was far more tempting a prospect than to stand here, listening to grimm that would not attack, wondering where Jaune and Penny where, whether they were on their way back to her or no.

Wishing that she had defied Ruby and dared the swords of Mistral to lose heart from her seeming flight and gone with them.

I picked a fine time to listen to Ruby, didn't I?

But, leaving aside what was too late to change and focussing solely on what could be changed and decided now … this was not the daylight outside Kuchinashi; this was the night outside Vale, and a charge now would risk scattering the huntsmen of Beacon and Haven and leaving them exposed, should the grimm rally.

After all, they didn't yet know for sure that the Apex Alpha was dead. It might be, this behaviour was consistent with it, but it might be a stratagem.

Perhaps the captain of the horde itself wishes us to think them dead to lure us forth, having already…

I cannot think such thoughts, I dare not, I will not.

I will speak only good things 'til they are back.

How she longed for the sight of headlights, how she longed to hear the rumble of an engine instead of the grumbling of the grimm, how she longed for their return.

She did not see headlights, she heard no engine, but she did see an Atlesian Skyray flying towards them, over the heads of the grimm out there in the darkness, who seemed to take no notice or trouble of it.

Why should an Atlesian airship be coming to us?

And why is it coming from that direction?

Pyrrha watched and kept her eyes upon the airship as it came closer and closer, as it descended down onto the grass beyond the wreckage of the Dingyuan. She kept watching as the door opened and—

Pyrrha let out a gasp of joy as she ran forward, her sash flying out behind, her ponytail streaming after her. She reached Jaune and Penny as they dismounted from the airship and embraced them both, putting her arms around them and pulling them close as though she were drowning and they were rocks in the water that would keep her safe.

"You have returned," she said through breaths ragged with relief. "I was…" She trailed off and looked at Jaune, looked into his eyes. She closed her own eyes, as she felt water begin to well up beneath them, and pressed her forehead against his. "I understand now," she said softly, "I comprehend through bitter study what I have put you through at times in this past year. Hating the taste of it has made me contrite. I'm sorry. I understand now how frustrated I've made you."

Once more, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Slowly, softly, she felt his hand upon her cheek, first his fingertips stroking her skin and then his glove-clad palm.

Pyrrha took her hand from off his back and placed it on his hand instead, to hold it there as she looked up, over his head and towards the Atlesian airship from which he and Penny and Ruby and all the rest had disembarked.

Blake and Ciel stood in the doorway. Ciel wore a fond smile upon her face, though it was only slight; Blake looked a little more amused.

"How is it?" Rainbow Dash called, Pyrrha couldn't see her, but that was undoubtedly her voice emerging from the cockpit.

"All that is to be hoped for in happy union," Ciel replied.

"How?" Pyrrha murmured. "How did—?"

"Parallel missions," Blake explained. "We were after the Apex Alpha too. We have to get back to the Atlesian line, but good luck!"

"You too!" Yang called as the airship began to rise once more into the air, the door sliding closed to obscure Blake and Ciel from sight.

"You did it then?" Pyrrha asked. "I … should not have fretted."

"Yes," Penny said. "We did it, although I'm glad they were there with their airship." She paused. "So, what happens now?"

"We counterattack," declared Ruby. "While they're vulnerable."

The earth trembled beneath their feet. Pyrrha shook, Nora stumbled, Jaune lost his footing and fell into Pyrrha's arms as the wreckage of the Dingyuan was shaken violently from side to side.

"What the—?" Yang explained, as she flung out her arms on either side of her for balance. "Are the grimm doing this?"

Ruby buried Crescent Rose's blade in the earth to give herself something to hold onto. "What grimm?" she asked, as the earth trembled. "And how?"

Up in the air, if only a little way, Rainbow didn't feel anything — but from out of the cockpit, she could see the earth beginning to shake down below.

"What in Remnant?"

"Sir," Cuningham said, "we're picking up unexpected levels of seismic activity."

"'Seismic activity'?" Ironwood repeated. "An earthquake?"

"Unknown, sir."

"Can you trace the epicentre?" Ironwood asked. An earthquake in the middle of a battle wasn't ideal, but how bad it was depended on the strength. If it ripped through their defences and pulled down the ramparts they'd erected on the Green Line, that would be less than ideal, but anything less than that should be manageable. It would be rough luck for a soldier to get a broken collarbone from a fall on a night like this, but better that than their chest slashed by an ursa's claws.

"It's…" Cuningham fell silent as he worked, fingers flying over his console. "It's coming from southeast of here, sir. Just outside Mountain Glenn."

Mountain Glenn had been built at the southern edge of the long range of mountains that acted as Vale's shield, protecting it from encroachment from the east. At the end of the mountain range, just north of the ruins of that dead city, was one of the tallest of those mountains, and in ancient times, it was called the Dragon's Fang, and tales were told of a creature that slumbered there, so old and so strong that even the great knights of Vale feared to challenge it.

Now, the mountain trembled. The mountain shook. If anyone had been standing upon the grey slope, they would surely have been flung aside and fallen to their deaths, if anyone had been watching the mountain from a high vantage in the necropolis, they would have seen it shuddering violently, heard it rumbling like an oncoming storm, seen — if they had gotten closer still in safety — cracks rippling up and down the rock.

They would have seen the mountain begin to flake and fall away, like an egg giving way to the chick beneath.

And as the mountain crumbled, they would have caught a glimpse of bleach white bone, red markings, and a baleful eye as red as blood staring out at them.

If any hypothetical watcher had the courage to remain after that, they would have seen the mountain shake ever more violently, seen more and more rock crumble from the mountainside and tumble downwards to the land below until, eventually, the Dragon's Fang exploded in a shower of rock and dust, thrown up as if by the eruption of a volcano, long dormant, now stirring to life.

But it was no geyser of lava that rose into the skies amidst the debris of its quickening.

It was a grimm dragon.

Eat the Rich (New)

Eat the Rich

Sunset teleported, appearing an inch or two above the roof in a crack and a flash of green light before dropping down the remaining distance to land upon said roof.

“Ow!” Sunset winced, as she landed kind of heavily upon her feet; her soles and her ankles both protested it; pain throbbed up her legs, and not the momentary simulacra of pain generated by aura — because of course she didn’t have any aura right now — that flared to let her know and then faded again; this was an actual — not unbearable but low-key and persistent — pain, raising its hand to get her attention.

My aura is still broken. I need to keep that in mind. It would take a while for her aura to come back, and until then, she would be vulnerable in all kinds of ways, both large — she couldn’t just let herself get shot or stabbed or hit with heavy things — and small; just throwing herself around with too much reckless abandon might do her a serious injury. She would need to be a little more careful with herself.

Some might say that the most careful she could be with herself would be to stay where she was, or to have stayed on the Comfort, stayed safe and waited for her aura to come back.

Sunset turned her eyes towards the Emerald Tower, to where the green lights burned in the dark of night. Not far away, she could see other lights in the sky: the bright white lights of the Amity Arena, illuminated in all its glory; the lights of a damaged Atlesian cruiser hovering nearby, when all the other ships had gone away, to fight the grimm upon the outer defences.

But it was the green lights of the Emerald Tower that spoke to Sunset most of all, that shone especially on her, that spoke to her … that would have shamed her, if she had done nothing.

Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Ruby, Rainbow Dash, Blake, everyone was fighting. They had fought in the arena, they had fought at Beacon, and now, they would fight outside of Vale as well; perhaps they were already fighting beyond the walls, the battle underway. So far away as Sunset was, she could not tell. But she knew that they would fight, if they were not fighting already.

She knew that Flash had lost both his legs fighting.

A little whimper escaped Sunset’s lips at the thought, though she pursed them tightly together.

Poor Flash. Poor, poor Flash; poor sweet Flash; poor handsome Flash; poor virtuous Flash. Poor Flash, would even his mother love him now?

Brave Flash, who had suffered much because he had risked much.

Her friends were fighting, and others had suffered for having fought; not only Flash but Councillor Emerald too, up on the Comfort under the knives of the surgeons.

Sunset had fought too, up until now, but if she didn’t keep fighting, if she stepped back at this point … she would be shamed.

No, it would be worse than shame; she would hate herself, she could not bear it. The fact that she had no aura was of as little consequence as her remaining aura — which was to say, of no consequence at all; she had to do what she could.

But what could — or should — she do, and where ought she to do it?

She could go out, beyond the wall, and join the others there; Jaune would even be able to restore her aura so that she wasn’t a liability to the others. But, even if she could get there — and there were genuine practicalities to consider such as how to find the others and whether she would find the gate opened — going out there to fight with them beyond the city would mean … it would mean coming face to face with Ruby.

That was something … perhaps best avoided for both their sakes.

She could avoid Ruby on the battlefield, but who knew if fate might bring them together, and if she wanted Jaune to boost her aura, she would presumably have to go at least somewhere near Ruby in the first place.

No, although a part of her heart desired to venture forth in that direction, perhaps it was best not. Better to…

Better to see if there was something that she could do here in Vale first. Perhaps she should look for Cinder, to stop her from going anywhere and doing anything unfortunate.

Except without aura, would she stand a chance against Cinder if she caught up with her? It wasn’t as though Cinder was helpless in the face of Sunset’s magic; she was not, she was quite capable of resisting it, as she had just proven in a fight in which Sunset had aura and had, in the best possible interpretation, just about gotten the upper hand before they were interrupted.

Without aura … it almost didn’t bear thinking about what Cinder might do to her. Sunset would be completely at Cinder’s mercy — and that really didn’t bear thinking about.

Sunset wanted to do something, but she didn’t want that something to be getting sliced into unicorn cutlets by Cinder’s obsidian blades or squirming at Cinder’s feet imploring her for mercy — for the second time tonight.

No, Cinder was … Cinder was too strong for her right now. Sunset would just have to hope that the revenge that Cinder sought was not on Pyrrha.

When her aura was restored, then perhaps … perhaps she would turn her thoughts to Cinder once again, and hope that the good outcome that had seemed at one point to be within her grasp could be repeated.

For now, for now, for now … for now, she would remain in Vale and ensure that the city was at peace again. Even before Sonata’s madness had set loose the Valish Defence Force upon the streets, grimm cultists had been attacking different locations; she’d seen the skydock—

The skydock. Sunset turned on the rooftop, looking to see if she could see the skydock from here. She hadn’t teleported onto one of the tallest buildings in Vale, but from the right direction, she could still see the plume of smoke rising from the direction of the dock.

She would go there. Perhaps she would get there and find that it had all been taken care of, but by the same token, she might not. It was as good a heading as any.

Sunset scampered down the fire escape, her boots making the metal steps rattle beneath them as she ran rapidly down them. She had teleported not far from the Valish Military Headquarters — intentionally so, not out of any great love or affection for the place but because it was where she had left her bike, by far her best means of traversing Vale quickly. The building onto which she had teleported, which wasn’t tall enough to see the skydock, only the smoke of what Sunset guessed to be a skyliner exploding, was not far away from the imposing headquarters; it was a Vacuan restaurant, with a garden in which wooden tables and chairs mingled with potted palms and rhodolirium flowers. There was no one around, the lights were off inside the restaurant, and Sunset was able to leave the garden via the front gate without anyone questioning her presence or trying to stop her.

The street beyond was not completely deserted; it was occupied by Valish soldiers wandering aimlessly down it, unarmed, with no discipline, no order, no sense of where they were going. They shambled down the street, looking even more under the control of some other will than when Sonata … no, no, actually, it was not so; if they had been under the control of another, then they would have looked more purposeful than this.

But Sunset was glad of their lack of purpose, because it meant that none of them tried to hinder Sunset in her passage as she returned to where she had left her bike when she and Councillor Emerald had come here to try and stop Sonata.

Sunset glanced upwards and hoped that the Atlesians were as good at medicine as they were thought to be at warfare.

Sunset turned into the side alley. Her bike was there, waiting for her; nobody had taken it. There was a part of Sunset that wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Cinder had stolen it, just because she could, just to annoy Sunset, but she hadn’t. She had left it there, for Sunset.

Did Cinder know how to ride a bike?

Sunset preferred to think that Cinder’s inaction was the result of some generosity of spirit on her part, rather than incapacity.

Or she just hadn’t found the bike.

Regardless, Sunset’s motorcycle was still here, waiting for her. Sunset pulled it away from the wall and climbed aboard; without aura, it felt a little harder between her legs, and when she started it off, she felt not only the familiar purr of the engine but also a more unexpected throbbing sound beneath her, juddering her a little bit, making her tailbone bump up and down.

Nevermind, it wasn’t actively unpleasant, and though it might become a little wearing in time, she could stand it.

Her trusty mount would get her where she wanted, where she needed to go.

And so, with the engine growling beneath her, Sunset set off; she had to go a little slower than she would have liked at first, weaving between the shambling soldiers who headed down the road so aimlessly, with as little care for where they were standing as they seemed to have for where they were going. Because they were all over the place, not keeping to one side or part of the road at all, Sunset had to go slowly so that she could go around them. It didn’t seem likely that they would make way for her, and so, she weaved and leaned and turned her bike as nimbly as it would turn to avoid hitting any of them, only being able to really open the throttle up at all once she had gotten out in front of the soldiers and had some open road before her.

Sunset counted herself lucky that it was still open road. Now that martial law was over, there was no curfew in effect, and there were no Valish soldiers patrolling the roads telling people to stay indoors or they would be shot; there was nothing stopping anyone from leaving their homes and crowding the streets.

Nothing but fear. Fear of the grimm, fear of the military if they didn’t believe everything that Councillor Emerald had said, fear of the grimm cultists.

That last one wasn’t really a fear, was it? Well, it was, but it wasn’t an irrational fear.

Neither were the grimm.

There were plenty of reasons to stay indoors still; for all that a front door or locked windows would offer scant protection from them, it still felt less unwise than stirring abroad.

That kind of anxiety, the fear spread by the events of the night so far, might only make the grimm more eager to assault the city, but Sunset could hardly blame the people for being nervous. They had been given cause.

And she didn’t even want to blame them because it was good for her. The roads were open, and she could drive her bike quickly down them without having to worry about being stuck in traffic.

The city was quiet. Subdued. Understandably so. There were still few lights on in the houses, although this wasn’t a part of the city that had been blacked out. People were just keeping their lights off, or their curtains drawn, or both. Sunset saw no one. Not even stray cats or dogs were out on the road. The skies, too, were clear; the Atlesian airships had all pulled out, gone beyond the city to defend against the grimm, and as for the Valish, their airships were grounded in the wake of the recent unpleasantness.

The skies were … not quite empty; there was a Bullhead flying over Vale, a single Bullhead, as far as Sunset could make out: the airship was lit up but unaccompanied; no others flew in formation with it, no others were nearby. Just the one Bullhead, flying over the rooftops of Vale.

Because it was so rare, a single airship in an otherwise empty sky, and because the roads were as empty as the sky, the Bullhead not only drew Sunset’s attention but held it there, her eyes fixed upon the airship as it traversed the skies.

Her eyes fixed upon the airship as a rocket or a missile flew up from one of the buildings beneath, from a medium-rise apartment building by the look of it, and hit the Bullhead on the wing. There was the flash of an explosion, a roaring that was dim by the time it reached Sunset, and then the Bullhead began to drop, flames and smoke streaming from one engine, descending out of sight beneath the cityscape.

Change of plans, Sunset thought as she turned off at the nearest exit, away from the skydock and in the direction of where she had seen that Bullhead go down. She didn’t know who was on it or who had shot it down, or why, but she assumed that the people doing the shooting were the bad guys, which meant that there was someone there on that airship — hopefully, assuming they had survived the crash — that needed help.

And that was as good a reason to head in that direction as any.

And if nobody had survived the crash, then … better to confirm that for herself with her own eyes rather than merely assuming it.

Sunset turned off the main road that had been carrying her through Vale and back onto narrower streets, side streets, alleyways. This district was, if she remembered her map of Vale correctly, known as Laceyton, and it was a district of contradictions: some of the wealthiest people in Vale lived here, alongside some of the very poorest. Sunset drove down streets of terraced houses three storeys high, with stoops and ornate railings and large windows, so similar to the Canterlot of Equestria that it was almost like being back home; she drove beneath narrow tower blocks with small windows that cast looming shadows over her. It was from one of those tower blocks that the rocket that brought down the bullhead had been fired. Sunset also saw some evidence that perhaps the terraced houses, with their old red brickwork and their railings and their ornamental door knockers had also not been spared the madness of this night: she drove past more than one door open, perhaps broken in, no light emerging from out of the houses.

Sunset didn’t stop to check on them. She didn’t know what had happened here, for all that the signs indicated that nothing good had, but she knew, because she had seen it, that an airship had gone down near here, and that someone might be in trouble unless she got to them.

Then someone ran out of one of the houses, out of the open doorway, stumbling down the stoop, nearly tripping and falling down the steps, momentum carrying him out into the road where he held up one hand to Sunset.

Sunset turned her bike rapidly, throwing out one foot to stop her bike as it skidded to a halt; that felt a bit different when you didn’t have any aura — she felt it considerably more in her leg and wasn’t sure that it looked cool enough to be worth the sensation — but nevertheless, however much pressure it put on her leg and her feet as both of them scraped across the tarmac of the road, she nevertheless came to a stop without hitting the kid who had scrambled out of the house and into the middle of the road.

Sunset called him a kid, but he was probably about the same age as her, maybe even a little bit older, although he didn’t look particularly older; he also didn’t look younger, either. He had a narrow face that put Sunset in mind of Russel a little bit, with close-cropped dark hair on top of his head and big ears sticking out on either side. He had a wart under his lip, which was unfortunately large and obvious, particularly as his lips were quite thin. His teeth were a little bit yellow, which Sunset was close enough to him to see when he opened his mouth, and his eyes were blue. He had stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, indifferently shaved: in some places, quite closely cropped, in other places, barely touched by a razor. He wore a dark hoodie with some sort of cheap design upon it, a square image printed across the chest that had cracked and peeled so much it was scarcely recognizable.

Plus, there was blood on his hoodie, and on his dark blue jeans and trainers as well — he wore the same kind of trainers as Jaune, Sunset noticed — which made it even harder to make out what remained of the design on his hoodie.

He had one hand thrust into the pocket of his hoodie while he lowered the other, the one which he had raised to bring Sunset to a stop.

Sunset raised the visor of her helmet. “What…?” She stopped herself from saying ‘what’s wrong’ because the amount of blood made it kind of obvious. For the same reason, it felt wrong to ask ‘are you okay?’ “You need help,” she said, as a statement, not as a question.

“You … you’re armed,” the young man said. “Are you a huntress?”

“Something like that,” Sunset said. “What happened?”

The young man hesitated. “Can I … can I see your face?”

Sunset blinked, but decided that considering what it seemed like what this lad had been through, he was entitled to an odd request. Maybe he just wanted to be sure she was a person; shock could make people feel or think funny things, and traumatic experiences … Sunset knew how they could mess with your head.

So she pulled off her helmet, and smiled reassuringly at him. “Hey,” she said. “My name’s Sunset Shimmer. And I … I’m here to help you, if you need it. And I’ve gotta say, you look like you need it.”

“Sunset Shimmer,” he repeated slowly. “That … that’s a pretty name,” he murmured. He stared at her. “You’ve got a pretty face too.”

“Um … thanks,” Sunset said softly. “Listen, why don’t you start by telling me your name, and—”

“She was pretty too,” he said, his whole body trembling.

Sunset tilted her head a little to one side. “Who was?”

The young man twitched. “Heather,” he said. “Her name was Heather. I … I used to see her, walking to school. Different school to me, of course. I live a couple of streets away, up in…” He trailed off for a second. “But I used to see her. She laughed at me.” He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “She said that I smelled. She thought she was too good for me, thought she was too good for the likes of us, but…” Again, he trailed off, and this time, he didn’t start up again.

Sunset looked down at his hand, the one that she couldn’t see because he had it hidden in his hoodie pocket. “I’m going to need you to show me your other hand,” she said softly. “I won’t ask you again.”

The young man’s face twitched. “Why?” he asked. “I bet, I bet you think that you’re—”

“I said show me your hand!” Sunset snapped, raising her own hand, wreathed in green magic, the green glow that engulfed the young man too as she grabbed him entire in telekinesis, lifting him up off his feet while he struggled and squirmed futilely against her magic.

She spread his arms, both of them, out on either side of him.

In the hand that he had kept in his pockets, he held a knife, one of the kind that they called chill knives, although Sunset wasn’t quite sure why — something to do with movies, she thought. It was long for a knife — long for a knife that some random kid was carrying around anyway; she might not have thought much of it in the hands of a huntsman or huntress — with a curved blade and a serrated edge on the inside.

Sunset’s fingers twitched, and she magically twisted the young man’s hand — he winced in pain — so that the knife fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground at her feet.

Sunset kept her magical grip on the young man as she bent down to pick up the knife. It had a snarling beowolf’s head engraved on the blade, along with the word RIPPER.

Sunset looked up at the young man, her lips twisting with disgust. Her gaze turned towards the doorway that he had emerged from. When he had stumbled out of the house, she had thought that it must have been his house, that he had been attacked, that he was a survivor, but now…

Now, darker possibilities filled her mind.

She should have known; she should have suspected from his hoodie with its faded design, his worn out jeans, his look. He didn’t look as though he belonged in a house like this, with ornate wrought iron railings and an antique stone front.

He was looking down at her as she held him helpless and suspended. His eyes were wide with fear.

As well they should be, if what she was starting to think — to fear — had happened had, in fact, happened.

Sunset kept him held up with magic as she left her bike behind and walked up the steps, the same steps that the young man had stumbled out of.

Inside the house was dark, without even the little moonlight that fell upon the street, without the light of the street lamps that wasn’t reaching inside the door. Sunset tossed the chill knife away — it wasn’t something she fancied adding to her collection — and with her now-free hand, she fumbled for a light switch. She couldn’t find one; her searching fingers felt only patterned wallpaper, some sort of undulating, rising and falling; she couldn’t tell what it was, but she imagined maybe flowers. Flowers were the sort of thing you might find on three-dimensional wallpaper.

You might find flowers, but Sunset wasn’t finding a light switch, so she cast the night vision spell upon her eyes so that she could see inside the dark house.

What she saw was a spacious hallway, with a wide staircase with fancy, old-fashioned looking rails that curved and twisted around one another like thorns. The floor was wooden, covered in smashed crockery and discarded flowers — and stained with blood.

Two people lay dead, tied to chairs; they were middle-aged, a man and a woman; he wore a sweater-vest and a shirt with cufflinks, she wore a dress with a flower-print pattern and a pearl necklace. Their faces were frozen in a rictus of fear, eyes wide, staring lifelessly out, mouths hanging open as though they had … as though they had died screaming.

Sunset’s chest rose and fell. She could feel her heart beating more rapidly.

They had both been … Sunset swallowed; she could feel bile rising in her throat. They had both been stabbed more than once. In fact, they had both been stabbed repeatedly, and cut. They had wounds … she couldn’t tell what colour his sweater-vest had been, and she could only tell that her dress had flowers on it from down near the bottom and the shoulders where there was less blood.

And then there was the blood on the floor, the blood in which someone had painted some sort of symbol; it reminded Sunset of Jaune’s symbol, the double crescent, except that here, the crescents were bisected by a … a diamond? An arrow? It was hard to make out; it wasn’t a particularly good drawing.

Plus, it was drawn in blood.

Either way, the crescent was surrounded by a star, an eight-pointed star.

Symbols weren’t unknown in Equestrian magic, although they weren’t common either; they were only really required for spells of exceptional complexity.

And in Equestria, they didn’t require sacrifice.

There was a dead girl in the centre of the symbol; Sunset didn’t know if the symbol had been made with her blood or that of the older two whom she could only presume to be her parents, just as she could only presume that this was Heather. She had magenta-coloured hair splayed out around her head, and pale skin, and green eyes that stared out as lifelessly as the eyes of her parents.

Her t-shirt was so bloody Sunset could barely see the Schnee snowflake on it. Her wrists and ankles were bound, and the ropes were likewise stained with blood.

There was a lot of blood.

Sunset turned away. She had to turn away, or she was going to be sick.

It was just as he’d said, Heather had been a pretty girl. Probably even prettier when those lifeless green eyes had been alive and had light in them.

Sunset’s hands clenched into fists. The young man groaned in pain.

Sunset didn’t care. In fact, there was a part of her that relished the sound.

Her mouth twisted with anger, her teeth bared like a hound as she stomped down the stoop and pulled the young man towards her, lowering him so that his feet almost touched the ground.

“You,” she snarled, “are going to tell me what happened, and if you tell me everything quickly enough, then maybe — maybe — I won’t jam one of these rails into your eye!”

“She had it coming, they all did!” the young man shouted. “All of them, they think they’re better than us.”

“'Us'?” Sunset asked. “You weren’t alone, were you?”

The young man’s face twitched; he bared his teeth at her just as Sunset had bared hers at him; she feared that his teeth were more frightening, yellow as they were, with gums that were worn away to make his canines look even bigger, crooked and unevenly worn. She was put in mind of a dog, a wild dog that could do with being put down.

“The rough beast is slouching towards Vytal,” he said. “And when it gets there, it’s not just going to claim four crowns, no. It’s going to eat the rich. It’s going to gobble them all up raw. The grimm are going to kill them all—”

“Then why did you go and kill that girl?” Sunset demanded.

“We have to show our commitment,” the young man said. “That’s what he said, that’s what he told us: when the grimm arrive, we have to prove that we’re worthy; we have to make a sacrifice in blood!”

“Who told you?” Sunset demanded. “Is it your friends setting off rockets? Did they shoot down that airship?”

“We’re making offerings to the darkness,” the young man said. “As many as we can. We’re taking down the ones who look down on us and those who defend them.”

“Not right now you’re not,” Sunset growled. “So how come you’re still here when everyone else has gone? You made your offering, why stick around?”

The young man didn’t answer, and Sunset found that she was actually quite glad of that. It was a question which, although she might have asked it, she wasn’t sure that she actually wanted to know the answer.

And now … now she had to decide what she was going to do with him.

It wasn’t as though she had a police car that she could bundle him into. She could call the police, but would they even answer?

She probably ought to try calling them, before she got into any darker ideas.

Sunset didn’t want to be a taker of lives, after all.

Sunset’s other hand began to glow as she magically grabbed hold of some of the iron railings outside the house of Heather, the house that this young man and his fellow grimm cultists — for that was surely what he was — had broken into and murdered the inhabitants. She held the young man still as she ripped the wrought iron railings free. The metal groaned as Sunset twisted it, bending the rails as though they were ropes — not quite; ropes would have bent much more easily — to wrap around the young man, binding his arms and legs and rendering him utterly immobile.

Sunset dumped him down on the pavement, hands tied, arms stuck to his sides, legs bound.

“You’re gonna die too!” he shouted. “You’re all gonna die! The rough beast—”

“Can bite my tail!” Sunset snapped. “Now shut up, or I’ll gag you as well!”

“You can’t stop it,” he declared. “You might as well try and stop the tide, a tide that will—

Sunset rolled her eyes as she snapped her fingers.

The young man’s mouth disappeared. His eyes bulged, and wordless — obviously — moaning sounds emerged from … well, behind that layer of skin.

The moans and groans became increasingly panicked.

Sunset was very tempted to leave him like that, but if she didn’t come back at some point, then he was going to starve to death, or some doctor would slice his face open, neither of which would be ideal.

So she snapped her fingers again, and his mouth returned.

“Quiet!” Sunset commanded, jabbing her finger towards him as, with her other hand, she got out her scroll.

She called the police and waited.

Her scroll indicated that it was dialling; there was no response. She was getting a signal, that was indicated clearly enough, but no answer.

Then the dialling indicator switched to a green call sign — unfortunately followed by an automated message.

“Thank you for calling the Vale Police Department,” said a voice which sounded as though it had recorded each word separately and out of context, such was the stilted cadence and awkward pauses between each word. “Unfortunately, there are no operators available to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message appropriate to the police service that you require, and an operator will respond to you as soon as possible. If your life is in imminent danger, please press One. If you would like to report a crime in progress, please press Two. If you would like to report a crime that has already concluded, please press Three.”

Sunset pressed three. There was a pause.

“Thank you for reporting a historic offence,” said the same automated voice. Sunset tapped her foot impatiently as it went on. “Due to the fact that the offence in question is no longer in progress, officers may not be able to respond immediately as historic offences will be treated as a secondary priority. Please leave a message after the tone, being sure to give your name, address, and scroll number so that officers can contact you. Thank you.”

There was a beep.

“Hello,” Sunset said. “This is Sunset Shimmer of Beacon Academy.” Hopefully, that would move someone to take this with a modicum of seriousness. “I’m at…” — she looked around for a street sign, finding one a few yards away — “Cavendish Street, where a house has been broken into and a family has been murdered. I’ve secured the killer, and I’ve left him tied up outside the house — it’s number Fourteen, Cavendish Street. He confessed to me. I’ve got to go now, I’ve seen an airship crash that I need to check out, but if someone could come and pick him up and arrest him, that would be great, thank you.” She hung up and put her scroll away.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she told the young man as she climbed back onto her bike.

“You can’t win,” the young man insisted. “He told us, he told us that it’s inevitable.”

“He’s got another thing coming then, hasn’t he?” Sunset replied as she pulled her helmet on.

If he said anything else, then Sunset didn’t hear him because of the way that her helmet muffled her ears. Not that she minded; she’d heard quite enough out of him already.

Sunset started up her bike and left the young man in his bloodstained clothes bound in iron on the street. Meanwhile, she rode away, towards where she had seen the airship crash.

She still believed that she was heading in the right direction.

Sunset didn’t regret the diversion, exactly; if someone on the airship had died, if she got there too late, then she would regret, but in the circumstances, what ought she have done? Ignore the person stumbling out of the house covered in blood who looked like he needed help? Yes, she hadn’t been able to save the family, but there was no way that she could have known that at the time.

And she had learned something: she had learned that there was a particular cell of grimm cultists operating in this area — or whatever the name for a group of grimm cultists was, a congregation or a flock or even a gang — that weren’t interested in attacking vital infrastructure, but in simply killing as many people in their immediate vicinity as possible.

No doubt, it made sense to them.

As Sunset drove, she couldn’t help but think of what the young man had said; yes, he was violent, deranged, but at the same time … with rich and poor living so close together, it wasn’t too surprising that some of the poor would fall into … bad habits, for want of a better term. Fall to anger and resentment, just like the faunus with the White Fang.

It didn’t excuse breaking into someone’s house and killing her because she said that you smelled, but it did make Sunset wonder how many grimm cultists there were in this part of town.

It was a little disconcerting; the stereotypical grimm cultist, if there was such a thing, was better heeled, someone with money, maybe someone from a respectable occupation like a doctor or a lawyer, an upstanding member of society, a pillar of the community, someone who didn’t have to struggle except to restrain their dark appetites and veil them from the world. Someone who was bored and susceptible to the transgressive allure of monster worship, human sacrifice, and a secret double life.

At least that was what Principal Celestia had said.

‘That, or idiots,’ as Vice-Principal Luna had added.

Grimm cultists were, ironically, supposed to lurk in nice houses like the one that that young man had broken into, not in the cramped high-rises of the poor and the dispossessed.

At least, that was what Sunset had been taught.

Perhaps people remember when wealthy grimm cultists get caught because it’s always shocking to them.

Anyway, what worried Sunset was the prospect that there might be a lot more where that guy came from, hordes of angry grimm cultists lurking in the towers that rose around her, waiting for their opportunity to spill out and take their revenge on a society that had condemned them to have so little when their neighbours had so much.

And considering that she’d seen a rocket fired from the roof of one such tower, Sunset couldn’t help but look around anxiously, wondering if she might see a rocket fired at her next, or whether she would simply have her head blown off by a sniper rifle and never see it coming.

I really wish I had my aura back. Sadly, there was no sign of its return just yet. Sunset would just have to keep going and keep her eyes and ears open.

She heard the gunshots and immediately began to swerve, leaning left and then right, leaning so far that her elbows and knees were almost touching the tarmac as she weaved wildly across the road, avoiding straight lines completely to throw off their aim.

She looked up. She could see muzzle flashes coming from the roof; the people shooting at her were firing in single shots, not bursts of fire like from an automatic weapon. Just one shot at a time, none of which were hitting her, thank Celestia. She counted two, no, three guns. Three muzzle flashes from three different parts of the roof, but all coming from the one roof, the same roof that the rocket had come from that had hit that Bullhead; she was certain of it.

With luck, that would mean that there were only grimm cultists in that one building, or at least that they had only come from that one building.

That would make things a lot easier and would perhaps make living in the community easier for both sides afterwards.

One building, one group of cultists under the leadership of this ‘he’ who had told them to go out and kill people for the grimm rather than following the plan that Salem’s agents had laid down.

I suppose, not knowing about Salem, these people don’t really know that they should obey her servants.

That one building, the building from which they were shooting at her but not hitting her, would be her objective — once she reached the crash site.

Even in the dark of the night, she could see the smoke rising from it now.

Sunset turned off, escaping the fire from that particular tower by driving around another, putting the large building between her and her opponents. The shooting stopped. Nobody else fired at her from on top of her cover.

Sunset dismounted and started to take off her helmet; then wondered if she might be better leaving it on. No, it wasn’t bulletproof, and it reduced her field of vision and muffled her hearing. She’d be better off with it off and trusting in noticing the enemy rather than being able to take a blow to the head.

So she took off her helmet and unslung Sol Invictus from off her shoulder.

She thought that she could hear gunshots, not the somewhat distant gunshots that had come from people shooting at her, but closer by, gunshots coming from … were they coming from near the Bullhead crash?

Possibly. Sunset couldn’t rule it out. And since she couldn’t rule it out, then she would have to check it out.

She crouched down and peered around the corner. Another consequence of being without aura was that she couldn’t rush to anyone’s aid, even though she might want to, or she could end up dead before she got any chance to render any aid at all.

She poked as little of her head out from hiding as she possibly could while seeing anything at all. No rocket streaked through the night towards her, no sniper blew her head off. Nobody even shot her.

Sunset waited, taking a breath, and then another.

The sounds of gunfire, though they fluctuated in intensity, lessening a little, reminded her that she couldn’t sit here all night.

Here goes.

Sunset sprang from out of cover, running as fast as she could across the street between the tower behind which she’d taken cover and a couple of large bins stood up against the back of a house. She crouched there, waiting for another second, waiting for a shot that didn’t come, hoping that that meant that they hadn’t seen her, perhaps even that they hadn’t been looking that way.

I really miss aura.

But there was a straight street in front of her, not a row of the nice terraced houses, but a commercial street, with a bodega and a laundromat and a fish and chip place by the look of it and a couple of other places that Sunset couldn’t … a florist, maybe. Anyway, they were all shut up right now, dark, the signs unlit; that was part of the reason why Sunset couldn’t see them too clearly. They were also all two storeys high and would protect her from the direction of the tower.

Though not from the direction of the shooting, which was coming from right in front of her.

Another deep breath.

If I get shot, I’ll get hurt.

I might even die.

The firing continued. Unlike the single shots fired at her, someone was firing automatically, blazing away; their gun was making a sort of purr sound.

Okay then.

Sunset ran towards the sound of the shooting, the sound of that one gun that was all that she could hear. She pulled back the hammer on Sol Invictus, ready to raise it to her shoulder as soon as she could see something to shoot at.

She could smell burning, burning dust, burning metal. And the sound of that gun was getting closer and closer.

Until, abruptly, it stopped. It stopped as a man with a rifle was hurled backwards with a squawk of alarm to land with a crack on the tarmac of the road. His rifle slipped from his hands, and he didn’t move.

“You people,” a familiar yet unexpected voice declared, “are getting on my last nerve!”

A figure in white strode around the corner, a figure luminous in the darkness of night, her white dress shimmering, her white hair aglow, her pale skin seeming even paler under the silver light of the moon.

“Weiss?”

Author's Note

I've been watching the Mission: Impossible movies lately and one thing that sticks out to me about them is the way that Ethan - ironically, considering what a daredevil Tom Cruise is - looks reluctant, apprehensive, even scared at having to perform some of the insane stunts that Benji makes him do (you wonder why they're still friends). I wanted to capture a little bit of that sense of vulnerability with Sunset in this chapter and the next, being without her aura for a semi-prolonged period of time in which she has to worry about getting seriously hurt or dying.

Chill Out (New)

Chill Out

“Weiss?” Sunset said, her eyes boggling. Of all the people…

Weiss turned towards her, inadvertently pointing the blade of her slender rapier up towards Sunset’s midriff. The slight widening of her own eyes seemed to make her scar disappear. “Sunset?”

“You were in that airship that went down?” Sunset asked. “What were you doing there?”

“I could just as well ask you what you’re doing here,” Weiss replied. “But yes, I was in the airship.”

“I saw the crash,” Sunset said. “I saw your Bullhead get shot down. I was coming to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“Kind of you,” Weiss murmured. “But fortunately and unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do. I … am the only survivor, and as you’ve just seen, I can take care of myself.”

“Who … else was in there with you?” Sunset asked; she knew where Cardin and Flash were, but Russel was still unaccounted for.

“Just the pilot,” Weiss said. “I got his body out of the wreck, but … he died in the crash.” She paused. “So … what are you doing in Vale; I thought you were leaving on a mission to Mount Aris.”

“It’s a little difficult to leave Vale at the moment,” Sunset replied. “What are you doing flying into Vale?”

“I thought that I could be of more use here in Vale than as just one more sword on the lines beyond the city,” Weiss replied. “Since I’ve worked with the VPD in the past, I thought they might appreciate my assistance restoring order here in the city.” She paused. “How much do you know about everything that’s been going on tonight?”

“I…” Sunset paused, glancing away for a second. “I … I know about Flash.”

Weiss let out a little breath, not quite a gasp but on its way there. “I … see,” she whispered. “May I ask how?”

“I had to take … someone up to the Atlesian medical frigate,” Sunset explained. “I ran into Cardin there; he told me.”

“Ah,” Weiss murmured. “I see. I think? Who was it?”

“Who was who?”

“The person you were taking up the medical frigate?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m a little curious about what you’ve been up to,” Weiss said.

Sunset couldn’t have put into words why she felt awkward about admitting this, but feel awkward she did; perhaps it was just the fact that this was an awkward situation all around. Of all the people that she would have chosen to run into tonight, Weiss wasn’t on the list — at least, not after what Sunset had found out about Flash. She probably wouldn’t have minded so much beforehand, but…

“It was Councillor Emerald,” Sunset admitted. “He was wounded at the Military Headquarters, putting a stop to…”

“The military firing on the Atlesians?” Weiss suggested.

“And other things,” Sunset said. “It wasn’t exactly the fault of the soldiers, General Blackthorn…” She tried to remember the excuse that Councillor Emerald had come up with. “There was a gas leak in the headquarters, and it drove the officers a little mad. Councillor Emerald had to step in and restore order, but … he got shot in the process.”

Weiss blinked. “A gas leak.”

“Or a fault in the air filters, something like that,” Sunset said. “I can’t remember the exact thing, but they weren’t in their right minds is the point.”

“Mmm,” Weiss murmured. “Well, I’m sure the surgeons aboard the medical frigate will take good care of him. Just as they’ll take good care of Flash.” She paused for a second. “I’m … sorry.”

Sunset frowned slightly. “Sorry for what?”

“About Flash, obviously!” Weiss snapped. “What else would I be apologising for?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset said. “But I do know that I’m not the one you need to apologise to; Flash … I’ve had no claim on him for a long time. I’m sorry that he … it … I don’t know how to express how much he didn’t deserve to have this happen to him; it’s wrong and cruel and unjust. I hate it. I hate to imagine what his life will be like now. But I don’t need an apology from you.” Now it was her turn to pause for a second. “I suppose … I suppose you’ll be wanting a new teammate for next year, huh?”

Weiss went very quiet. She became silent, in fact. Myrtenaster trembled in her hand for a moment, before Weiss’ right hand, her free hand, flew upwards through the air to slap Sunset across the face.

There was a crack, and Sunset’s head whipped around to one side, her fiery hair flying all around her. She staggered sideways a step, clutching at her face. “Ow! That hurt!”

“GOOD!” shouted Weiss. “It was supposed to hurt! That’s the point of slapping somebody, to hurt them!” She wheeled away, her wedge heels tapping on the ground as she stomped up and down. “How … how dare you? How dare you suggest—?”

“What, that you’re a product of your culture?” Sunset asked. “I know how Atlas treats people with prosthetics, the way it looks at them, the same way that it looks at the faunus. Like they’re broken, imperfect—"

“Just because I am Atlesian does not mean that I am Atlas!” Weiss snapped. “I mean, just because I’m Atlesian doesn’t mean that I hold every attitude that someone from Atlas might have. Am I a racist just because some of my countrymen are?”

Sunset rubbed at her face where she’d been slapped. It was smarting, she could feel her cheek throbbing; she wouldn’t be surprised if it left a mark. “No,” she admitted. “At least not that I’ve noticed.”

“Then why would you assume that I would turn my back on Flash just because he was injured fighting alongside me?” Weiss demanded. “Or did you hope I would?”

“No!” Sunset cried. “No, I … absolutely not! I told you, I have no claim on Flash, and he has none on me either; I just … you can’t deny that it … that people think like that.”

“No,” Weiss admitted. “No, I don’t deny it; I admit that there are some people who feel that way, who look at people who have had to replace their limbs with … in a certain way.” She stopped pacing and whirled, ponytail flying, to look Sunset in the eye. “But I’m not one of them. I won’t be one of them, especially not with Flash. He’s still the man he was, and I still … care a great deal about him.”

Sunset was silent for a second or two. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said softly. “Because he deserves someone he can rely on.” She rubbed her cheek just a little more, then lowered her hand from it. “I shouldn’t have prejudged you so harshly. There was no reason to assume—”

“The worst?” Weiss finished for her. “No, there wasn’t, but I can understand why you did. You still care about him yourself, don’t you?”

“I want good things for him,” Sunset replied. “As I said, he deserves them, even if he hasn’t gotten them so far. Anyway, you have my apology, and my gratitude.” She glanced down at Myrtenaster in Weiss’ hand. “On an unrelated note, would you mind pointing that somewhere else; my aura is a little … broken, at the moment.”

“Oh, right,” Weiss said, tilting Myrtenaster so the point was aimed down at the ground. “You know, when I tried to fight with my aura broken, I almost got killed by a griffon.”

“That … was before Flash and Cardin—”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “That was after my loss to Pyrrha in the arena. You know that she—”

“Beat you in the final, yes, I do,” Sunset said.

“Not that it matters now, except that my aura was left very low by the time she was through with me,” Weiss explained. “I didn’t want to retreat, and so, my aura was broken. And I was still in a better state than you.”

“I’m not helpless without my aura, just … vulnerable,” Sunset replied. “More vulnerable than usual. Aura or not, I can’t just hide and wait for it to come back; I can’t sit by or even stand by while they’re fighting. They are still fighting, aren’t they?”

“I presume so,” Weiss answered. “After Beacon was cleared of grimm, most of the students went out to the lines outside the city. It seemed as if the grimm might attack.”

“But you came here instead?”

“One more sword wouldn’t make any difference out there,” Weiss said. “But I might be able to make a difference in here.”

“Fair enough,” Sunset answered. “That’s… more or less why I’m here, too.”

“That,” Weiss went on. “And I didn’t want any sympathy from the likes of Blake and Rainbow Dash. They’d mean well, I’m sure, but I didn’t want to hear how sorry they were about Flash, or how they’re sure that he’ll be okay, and how marvellous prosthetic limbs are in Atlas these days, or how I should stick with them since I don’t have a team of my own anymore, for my own safety.” She sighed. “As I said, I know that they’d mean well, and that any sympathies sent my way would be sincere and well meant, but … that doesn’t mean that I want to hear them. On my own, I could—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your solitude, but why are you on your own?” Sunset asked. “What happened to Russel?”

“I sent Russel up to the Amity Arena,” Weiss explained. “His aura was broken,” — she raised an eyebrow at Sunset — “and in any case, after what happened to Flash and Cardin, he was a little … unfocussed. I was worried that he would … it was best for him to take a rest.” She tilted her head a little. “It might be best for you to take a rest as well.”

“No,” Sunset said flatly.

Weiss shook her head. “I’m sure there would be a few people who would be upset if they had to bury you.”

“I don’t intend to be buried, or cremated,” Sunset responded. “I told you, I’m not helpless. I’ve already come across a grimm cultist, and I took care of him just fine without aura.”

“A grimm cultist? Here?”

“Who do you think shot at you?” asked Sunset. “I saw the missile hit your Bullhead from a tower over there.” She gestured in the direction of the tower block from which the rocket and the shots had come. “We can’t see it from here, and they can’t see us, which is good because they took shots at me too. Now, the grimm cultist told me that his group have been causing chaos in this area, the area where they live.” She bit her lip. “I came across a house they’d broken into. What they’d done to the people who lived there … wasn’t pretty.”

Weiss frowned. “The grimm cultists are all attacking critical infrastructure. Power plants, television studios—”

“Not this group,” Sunset said. “Apparently, it’s down to their leader; he’s told them to…” — she shuddered — “to shed blood to prove to the grimm that they are worthy.”

Weiss made a shivering sound, although her body did not tremble. “I’ll never understand such people. To venerate and worship man-eating monsters, the insanity of it. So what you’re saying is that they’re spread out across this district, committing violent acts?”

“Perhaps, but I’m not so sure,” Sunset replied. “When I came across this particular cultist, he was all alone; the others had all gone—”

“Moved on to their next victim?”

“Or they’d gone back to the tower they’re based out of,” Sunset said. “These are poor people, to put it bluntly; whoever their leader is, it seems he’s been using resentment of their rich neighbours to recruit followers. I’ve been shot at from the roof, and you’ve been brought down from that same roof, and how many people can grimm worship really attract? I think if we head to that tower where the shots and the missile came from, we stand a good chance of catching their leader, maybe the whole group. At the very least, it’s a place to start, and a vantage point. We can find out how many other cultists there are, where they’ve gone, do what we have to do. And as you say, the other attacks were all focused on infrastructure; I’m not sure how long it’ll be before anyone shows up here. I tried to call the police, and I got no response. I think if anyone’s going to deal with this, it will have to be us.”

"You mean I’ll have to," Weiss corrected her.

Sunset had to resist the urge to hit Weiss with some magic. It would have been very satisfying, and she probably would have done it, except that, having already been in an airship crash, Weiss' aura might not be up to it.

Instead, rolling her eyes, Sunset raised one finger and shot a bolt of green magic just past Weiss' face, missing her by a hair, making the hairs of her ponytail dance as though in a sudden breeze as the magic shot past to hit the wall of a house beyond. It chipped the brickwork a little, but did not more than that.

It was enough to make Weiss stare at Sunset regardless.

"For the last time, I am not helpless," Sunset declared. "I'm just … vulnerable, that's all."

Weiss continued to stare at her. "But … your semblance … how?"

"My semblance," Sunset began. "Is … not exactly my semblance."

Weiss' eyes had been wide; now, they narrowed in suspicion. "Not exactly your semblance?"

"Not at all my semblance then, if you must," confessed Sunset. "Which is as much as I will say or you need to know; suffice to say that I can be of use. And do you really want to do this all by yourself?"

"I could," Weiss said at once. "I am prepared to." She glanced down at the sword in her hand. "I would rather that than lead someone else into—"

"What happened to Flash and Cardin … I'm sure you did everything you could," Sunset told her. "It doesn't make you a bad leader, and it doesn't mean you have to shun all company hereafter. Especially since that would mean shunning Flash, which you've already assured me that you won't do." She ventured a small smile. "Besides, who said anything about you leading me anywhere?"

"Well," Weiss said, "if we are going to work together, then, as I'm the one of us who is currently bulletproof, I think I'm the one who should go first, don't you?"

"Are we going to work together?" asked Sunset.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Take care," she said. "I'd rather not tell Pyrrha that I was there when you died."

Sunset snorted. "You won't have to catch my last words, don't worry." She gestured, for the second time, in the direction of the tower block from which both rocket and gunfire had come, assailing both Sunset herself and Weiss' Bullhead. "It's that way."

Weiss nodded, and as she had said, she led the way in the indicated direction. Sunset let her take the lead without argument; as Weiss herself had stated, she was the one, of the two of them, who could get shot and not feel it, and so it made sense for her to be the one in front.

Although, in view of Weiss' somewhat diminutive size, it wasn't as if Sunset could hide behind her very effectively.

Nevertheless, it was generous of her to offer, and Sunset was not above admitting that she was glad of it.

She kept Sol Invictus in her hands, ready to fire over Weiss' head if any more enemies should show themselves.

Although, if she did shoot anyone, if she shot any of these grimm cultists who lurked around here, then they would probably be as dead as she would be if they shot her. The young man that Sunset had left trussed up in iron rails had no aura — Sunset wouldn't have been able to pick him up so easily if he had — and what were the chances of others of his ilk, of people like that, from a place like this, having their auras unlocked? Perhaps their leader, this mysterious 'him' who had defied the plans that Cinder and Tempest Shadow had made to concentrate on terror and bloodshed closer to home, had unlocked the aura of some of his followers, but if some, then why not all? Why not the young man that Sunset had come across upon the road?

No, the chances were that nobody they met tonight — at least nobody that they met here, in this place — would have their aura. They would die to bullets or to well-placed blows.

They would be as dead as any grimm.

As dead as Adam.

That was … not something that Sunset was entirely comfortable with, if she was being honest. Killing people, taking life, pulling the trigger, and then … the look on Adam's face remained with her. It was lodged permanently in her mind, and no eviction notice that Sunset could serve would budge it. It was claiming squatter's rights within her head.

She did not want it to be joined there by other such memories. She did not want the blood upon her hands; there was enough there already.

Just because they were in love with grimm didn't mean that she wanted to put them down like grimm.

Sunset slung her rifle back over her shoulder.

Weiss, who had been walking silently ahead of Sunset, turned her head slightly back towards her. "Is something wrong? Or would you just prefer to rely on your … on the thing that is not your semblance?"

"I can control the power level," Sunset replied. "I can make the strength nonlethal."

"I'm not sure why you'd want to," Weiss murmured.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Sunset said. "Even if they are grimm cultists."

"Didn't you say they've killed people already?" Weiss responded. "Those who live by the sword can't complain when they die by it."

"But not by mine," said Sunset quietly.

Weiss didn't respond. She turned her head away, looking once more straight ahead of them as she led the way.

She led the way down the side of the road, a road that was, like Cavendish Street that Sunset had lately come from, lined with high-class terraced housing, each three storeys high, with stone steps and iron rails and gates. Here, too, there were signs of break ins, with doors smashed in and doorways gaping open. No blood, though, that Sunset could see.

Perhaps it was simply where Sunset could not see it, but even that was something she was grateful for.

There were a couple of bikes — not motorcycles but pedal bikes, both of them a little undersized, one of them a vivid green and the other a brilliant red, both of them covered with stickers that were too small for Sunset to properly make them out — sitting next to one particular set of rails. Somewhat implausibly, they had been chained up to the rails themselves.

And behind the rails, one of the windows in the nearest house had been smashed.

Weiss stopped and glanced at Sunset over her shoulder. "You know," she said, "I can't help thinking that, in this sort of neighbourhood, there's room for a bicycle inside the house."

"I think you're probably right," Sunset acknowledged. "Although the idea of grimm cultists on … don't those look like very small bikes to you? Like kids' bikes?"

Weiss looked again. "I suppose," she said. "But that doesn't—"

The front door to the house opened, and two scruffy-looking boys in dark hoodies and torn jeans, with bulging backpacks slung across one shoulder each, started to emerge.

They were laughing.

"I can't wait until we get back and show the gang!" the one in front said. "This is going to be soooo epic; they're gonna—"

Both of them fell silent as they saw Weiss and Sunset.

"Oh, crap, bruv," the one behind explained as he pulled a pistol out of his hoodie pocket.

Sunset grabbed both boys and the pistol with her telekinesis, hoisting them up off the ground as she had done their older, more blood-stained confederate.

"They got superpowers!" moaned the one who had pulled the gun.

"Of course they do," said the other. "That's Weiss Schnee from off the telly, and that's the other one, the one who set herself on fire."

'The other one'? Sunset thought. 'The other one'? I had two great matches, and I'm 'the other one'?

She couldn't keep her lip from curling in irritation as she pulled the gun into her hand. It felt very light in her grasp. Probably because it was all moulded plastic, without a single metal or moving part to be seen as Sunset turned it over.

She pointed it at the ground and pulled the trigger. It made a sort of gun-like sound, but there was neither flash of the muzzle nor, indeed, any sign of a bullet.

Sunset looked at them. "Is this a toy?"

"You what?" asked the boy who had pulled the 'gun' on her in the first place. His hazel eyes bulged. "It's a toy! That Kenny G, he swore it was real. He told me it was one of them huntsmen guns, that was a toy gun, but it was also a gun. He swore on his life! I'm gonna kill him when I see him again!"

"What with?" Sunset asked dryly.

"If it's not a real gun, that means you can put us down now, right?" asked the other boy. "I mean, it's not like we did nothin'."

"So, this is your house?" asked Weiss.

The boy was silent for a second. "Well, maybe we was robbin' the place, but we didn't do nothin' else, honest. We didn't chase them out of their 'ouse or nothin'; that was—"

"Shhh!" the other boy, the one who had foolishly mistaken the toy gun for a real one, hissed. "Shut up, bruv, or you're dead!"

Weiss put one hand on her hip. "You're not in much position to be making threats."

"I'm not gonna kill him!" wailed the boy. "But everyone knows, if you talk about Dark Angel Tower, things go bad for you, bruv, like 'never seen again' bad."

"'Dark Angel Tower,'" Sunset repeated. "Is that the one over there?" She pointed in the direction of their unseen objective."

"I don't know," the boy with the toy gun said unconvincingly.

Weiss climbed a couple of the steps towards the open door, though she still had to look up at the levitating boys. "Sunset and I are huntresses," she reminded them. "You know that, you've seen us on TV, you know what we're capable of. If there's something going on here, something that you're scared of, then we can protect you. We can take of what's going on."

"Maybe she's right," the first boy out of the door said. "I mean you were pretty cool, shooting lasers and flying and all proper superhero stuff. I think you shoulda won that fight, you were way cooler than that other one; she was just borin', she didn't hardly do nothin'—"

"Get to the point," Sunset snapped.

"Calm down, Sunset," Weiss said, holding up one hand. She paused for a moment, looking up at the two boys. "My friend here is a little impatient, and I can only keep her restrained for so long. Now, if you keep stalling me, if you don't cooperate, then I'll have no choice but to assume that you're involved in all of this somehow, and then I'll have no choice but to let Sunset…"

The boy with the toy gun swallowed. "Let her what? What're you gonna let her to do to us?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," Weiss said calmly. "Or, you can tell me what you know, and I'll not only let you both go — minus everything you stole from this house, obviously — but I'll also clean up your neighbourhood for you so you don't have to worry anymore."

Sunset folded her arms, even as her hands continued to glow green with magic.

She did her best to look menacing as she glowered at the two boys.

"Okay, okay!" cried the first boy. "We'll tell you everything! Dark Angel Tower, right, it's … it used to be like a normal place, right? Like, me and Spanner, we live in Firefly Tower, and it sucks, but it's whatever, yeah? Dark Angel Tower used to be like that; a couple of mates of ours used to live there. And then this guy moved in, and people just started … started disappearing, right. Not like they moved out, or maybe they did, but they were really quiet about it—"

"Or maybe they didn't," said the second boy.

"Yeah, yeah, or maybe that, maybe…" The first boy trailed off. "The only people who were left, the only people you see coming out of there, they're all members of this gang, right? And anyone who stands up to them ends up dead."

"They say they're found the next morning with their throats slit," added the second boy with a little too much relish.

"And anyone who goes up into that tower, even the police, they never come out again," said the first boy. "And if you're out at night, around that tower, you can hear things."

"What kind of things?" asked Weiss.

"Like … like growling," said the first boy. "Like there's a monster there or something. You don't want to go up there."

"Actually, I think we do," Weiss murmured.

"What about tonight?" demanded Sunset.

"Tonight, after the matches were over, we started to hear screaming and shooting," the first boy said. "And we went up onto the roof, and we could see the gang from Dark Angel Tower runnin' through the streets, and they had guns, and they were shootin' 'em, and people were runnin' out of their houses. And then the Dark Angel crew went into some of the houses, then they came out; after a while, they started comin' back to the tower, and we—"

"Decided to rob the houses," Sunset finished for them.

"They got so much stuff, man!" the boy with the toy gun cried. "They got consoles, designer trainers, everythin'! After they ran off … we weren't hurtin' anyone."

"Hmm," Weiss murmured. "Thank you both for your invaluable assistance." She turned away, descending the steps with her back to the two boys. "Put them down, Sunset."

Sunset unfolded her arms and released her magic, dumping the two boys somewhat heavily upon the steps.

Weiss put one hand on her hip. She didn't look at the two of them. "Leave the things you stole and go," she commanded coldly.

The two boys paused. "Just from this house or—"

"Leave the bags!" Weiss ordered, each word as heavy as an avalanche descending from a snow-capped peak.

"Right, right," the two boys agreed hastily, leaving their backpacks on the step and scrambling down them. They fumbled to unlock their chained up bicycles, casting anxious glances towards Sunset and Weiss as they did so, before finally unchaining them — leaving the chains — and riding off, pedalling furiously down the street.

Sunset climbed the steps. She picked up the two backpacks — they were both heavy; she wondered if the two boys could have managed to ride off with them — and put them back inside the house before she shut the door.

It seemed that, when the occupier returned to their home, hopefully tomorrow, they would find themselves in possession of someone else's belongings; hopefully, they could sort things out with the neighbours so that everything went back to its proper place. That wasn't something that Sunset and Weiss had time to take care of right now.

As she closed the door, Sunset couldn't help but say, "'I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise'?"

"It got them to talk, didn't it?" asked Weiss, a slight chuckle in her voice.

"True," Sunset admitted as she descended the steps. "And at least we know that we won't have to worry about civilians caught in the crossfire when we get there." She paused. "What do you make about this monster thing?"

"They could be mistaken," Weiss said. "They didn't seem like the brightest after all. But it's not impossible that there's a gigas there waiting for us."

"A gigas?" Sunset repeated.

"A possession grimm," Weiss said. "Not possessing people — this isn't a chill — it's more possession of … objects. It makes a shell for itself, and controls it."

"Like a geist?"

"Similar," Weiss said. "But different. Geists would be harder to smuggle into a city, but a gigas can be done. My father…" Her free hand rose to the scar on her face. "It can be done," she repeated. "I'm not saying it necessarily has been done, but it can be, so we shouldn't be too surprised if we reach the tower and find ourselves facing something like that."

Something like what? Sunset thought, because Weiss had been somewhat scant on details. Considering what she had said, however, the lack of detail probably wasn't her fault: a lot would depend on the shell of the gigas, and they couldn't guess what that might be ahead of time. They would just have to deal with it, whatever it looked like, when they saw it.

"Let's go," Weiss said. "We should keep moving."

Sunset had no objection to that, so she followed once more as Weiss took the lead continuing to walk down the pavement, past the silent houses on either side of them.

Having found out from the two idiots that these houses were so quiet because they were unoccupied — which Sunset could believe; in other neighbourhoods, people might be huddling behind closed doors waiting for the dawn to break and some clarity to return, but if you could hear things going on right outside your door, you might not want to stay behind it waiting for that door to be broken down — lent them a less foreboding air than they had once possessed. Sunset didn't need to imagine the frightened people on the other side because they weren't there, she didn't need to contemplate what they might see if they twitched their curtains to look out the window, she didn't have to worry what a stray shot might do.

It was good for her, and good for them too, she hoped, to be out of harm's way. She hoped that they had found somewhere safe to hunker down and wait for morning and the return of sanity.

She hoped, too, that thanks to the efforts of Weiss and herself, come morning, this place would be safe to return to.

Weiss reached the bottom of the street ahead of Sunset. There was a crossroad, with two sets of traffic lights, one on either side of the street, both positioned to cross the road that cut across, heading towards, amongst other places, Dark Angel Tower.

Weiss stepped out from behind the last terraced house, to be greeted immediately by the crack of a gun going off and a bullet hitting the pavement between Weiss' feet. It had missed her, but it was sufficient to make Weiss scramble back into cover behind the houses.

That didn't stop the people up on the tower from shooting some more, a fusillade ringing out from down the road to strike the corner of the house and the road where Weiss had stood a moment ago. Chips of brick were flung off the building to land before the two huntresses, but that was about all the shooters managed to do.

Sunset heard a boom and the hiss of a rocket.

She flung out her hands, conjuring a shield up around Weiss and herself as the rocket struck the street in front of them. Sunset felt the heat washing over the two of them, fire consuming the emerald barrier, the power of the explosion and the debris hammering against her magic, sending its impact reverberating through it back to Sunset herself. Sunset's arms shook slightly as the fire died down. The pavement had been torn up, the street light had been obliterated, the nearby windows had all been shattered and the walls scorched black where they had not had chunks blown out of the brickwork, but Sunset herself was quite intact, and Weiss looked to be in good shape also.

Weiss jammed Myrtenaster down into the ground, the point of the rapier piercing the wounded flagstones beneath them.

An array of pale blue glyphs began to appear, shimmering in the air, gently rotating as they formed lines stretching across the street.

Pale blue, those are the laser ones, right?

Beams of light burst out from the glyphs, firing at an upwards angle.

Yep, it's lasers.

Beam after beam leapt from the glyphs, travelling upwards through the night, presumably — behind Weiss, Sunset couldn't see — in the direction of Dark Angel Tower. Sunset didn't know if Weiss was trying to hit back or simply suppress their opponents, but if it was the latter, then it worked; the gunshots died down completely as the lasers flew.

Weiss kept up the bombardment for a few seconds after the gunfire had ceased, her glyphs continuing to fire, before she stood up and extracted her blade from the ground. The pale blue glyphs disappeared like dead grimm, fading away into nothingness.

Weiss poked her head out around the corner. She wasn't hit. Nobody even shot at her. After the interruption of gunfire, the street, the whole neighbourhood, was once more quiet.

Weiss motioned for Sunset to remain where she was while she stepped fully out into the street.

Still no one shot at her, no sudden flurry of bullets knocked her down onto her back, nothing at all.

Thus reassured, Sunset ventured to stick her own neck out, literally, risking a look down the street. She could see the tower. It looked pretty much like the other towers around her: a medium-rise obelisk of grey concrete, a brutal lump, solidly built, all sharp angles and square proportions, with more concrete forming a sort of superstructure around the outside, like supporting pillars preventing the thing from collapsing. So far, so similar to its near neighbours — and what a contrast to the old-fashioned elegance of the terraces around it — but context suggested that, since that tower had shot at them, that tower was also their objective.

And yet, no one was shooting at them now.

Sunset stepped out into the road to stand beside Weiss. Nobody shot at her either.

Nevertheless, that was something that could change quickly, and against that eventuality, Sunset raised her hands and conjured up another shield around both her and Weiss, the bubble of magic enveloping them both from above their heads down to the road.

Weiss looked at her. "Can this move with us?"

Sunset adjusted the spell ever so slightly. "A little trickier," she said. "But yes, we can."

Weiss nodded. "Good." She took a step forward before she asked. "Does this … whatever this is, does it have any limits at all?"

"Yes," Sunset replied. "I just haven't reached them yet tonight."

Weiss didn't pry further. She just kept walking forward, which meant that Sunset, perforce, had to move forward as well. Her breathing was deep, she had been using a lot of magic tonight, and yet, she hadn't hit her limits yet. It was a little surprising, but not a gift she was inclined to spurn.

After all, if her magic had run out alongside her aura, then she really would have been useless, just as Weiss had thought.

But she was not useless; her magic was holding out for now, and Sunset was able to walk beside Weiss down the road towards the tower.

The road down which they walked was straight as an arrow and uninterrupted by any junctions or turn-offs; one of the reasons why Sunset had conjured up a shield was the near absence of cover for them if the shooting resumed. Other towers rose on either side of them, but they could not be directly reached because, now that Sunset and Weiss had started down this road, they were hemmed in by it, closed in on either side by a street of services: a bank, a grocer, a butcher, a baker. Shut up shops lined up in a row to form a guard of honour as they walked, while the tower loomed ahead like a monarch on their lofty throne, waiting to receive the petitioners.

Or the assassins.

This monarch had an honour guard, but it seemed as the two huntresses walked towards it that it had no actual bodyguards, not anymore, not since the gunfire from the tower had ceased. Nothing and no one else stepped forward to challenge their approach.

There was a thud. The street beneath them trembled.

I may have spoken too soon.

There was another thud, and another, more and more thudding steps in quick succession, echoing down the road as Sunset saw something coming towards them from the direction of Dark Angel Tower. At first, she couldn't make out what it was; the darkness made it difficult to see clearly. As it came closer, stepping into the glare of the nearer street lights, then it became easier to see but not necessarily easier to work out what it was.

It was presumably this gigas that Weiss had mentioned, although Sunset would never have guessed if Weiss hadn't mentioned it already; she would have been left baffled by this thing that stalked towards them, making the ground shake beneath its tread.

It was a lumpen, misshapen, patchwork thing, scarcely a 'thing' at all; to call it a thing suggested unity of design, singularity of purpose, some common element binding it together, of which Sunset's eyes could find none. It was a collection of junk. It was scrap metal, crudely fashioned with nails and screws and some welding here and there into a … it had two legs as thick as pillars, it had two arms like articulated tree trunks with three sort of fingers at the end of each hand, it had a round body that gave it an almost pot-bellied look, and it had a head, or a helmet that resembled a beak in some respects, and a visor from out of which nothing could be seen, not even the pair of red eyes that Sunset half expected. It didn't look like a man; it didn't look exactly like anything, just a crude copy of many similar things — a man, a beowolf, an ursa — made by someone without too much skill or concern for accuracy.

A growl emanated from somewhere inside the metal.

"This is the gigas, right?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Weiss murmured. "Although it didn't make this for itself; someone made this for it."

Sunset found it a little hard to understand why an actual grimm, smuggled into Vale by grimm cultists, wouldn't simply kill off the grimm cultists and go on a rampage — it wasn't as if they had any actual connection to the creature, and Principal Celestia had been clear that whenever grimm cultists came into contact with the objects of their worship, it did not end well for them — unless perhaps this mysterious figure who had taken over the tower block were one of Salem's servants.

But if so, what are they wasting their time here for?

The gigas growled once more as it took another stomping step forward.

That's a question that can wait for later, Sunset thought as she lowered the shield protecting her and Weiss — she didn't have much choice; they weren't going to kill this grimm by simply hunkering down and waiting for it to give up — as she held out her hands and unleashed a barrage of magic upon the gigas. Bolt after emerald bolt leapt from her palms to slam into the patchwork scrap armour in which the grimm had made its home. Some of the bolts glanced off the armour due to the angle, some them spread out across the dull metal in bursts of brilliant green light; together, they made the gigas sway on its large and lumpy feet, tottering backwards so that, for a moment, Sunset thought it might fall onto its back.

It didn't quite; the gigas managed to steady itself, arms flailing, backing away a step, and then another. It hunched its lumpen body, lowering its head like a bull about to charge.

Weiss charged first, flying forwards along a line of shimmering white glyphs as bright as she looked in the moonlight. She headed straight towards the gigas in its shell. The gigas raised an arm to bring it down upon her, but Sunset grabbed the armour in her telekinesis and held onto it, grunting a little with the effort of restraining the hideous strength of the grimm.

She grabbed its other arm too, in case it got any ideas, holding both arms and the gigas itself in place as Weiss closed the distance. As she reached the gigas, standing small beneath it, the slight pale figure standing beneath the dark armoured giant, Weiss' white glyphs disappeared, and in its place, a black glyph beneath her feet.

The glyph turned from black to red, and Weiss was catapulted up into the air. The gigas' face followed her, the only part of it which could follow her as Weiss soared upwards, her ponytail flying as she spun around.

Another white glyph formed beneath her feet, angled downwards so that Weiss was facing the gigas, and behind the white glyph, there appeared a column of black glyphs, a pillar of them, one by one each turning red.

Sunset guessed what Weiss was going to do, and with her telekinesis, she wrenched the grimm's arms and hands towards itself, moving them like a marionette as Weiss launched herself like a missile towards the gigas.

Sunset hit with the grimm with its own two hands, the clang of metal ringing out as massive fists slammed into the beak-like helmet. The gigas recoiled but was still mostly in place as Weiss struck home, jamming her slender sword into the gigas' visor and firing a blast of dust — Sunset couldn't tell what kind of dust — into its insides.

The gigas fell, toppling backwards like an unwanted statue, cracking the tarmac beneath its bulk.

Weiss landed just beyond its head, turning and jamming Myrtenaster into the ground as she unleashed a wave of ice that rippled from her sword to cover the street and consume the gigas from the inside, ice spikes bursting up through the joints in the armour, rising over the pot-bellied cuirass, coming through the visor.

The gigas' armour tried to move for a moment, armour creaking and groaning, fingers twitching, then it fell back and was still.

For a moment, Sunset expected the thing to start dissolving, before she remembered that this was only a shell made by someone, not the grimm itself; the grimm was dead inside—

Or it was getting away.

Sunset stepped forward, then dashed forward, feet pounding on the tarmac as she spotted something crawling out of the armour and beginning to skitter away, its dark form visible upon the white of the ice. As Sunset got closer, she could see it more clearly, a tentacled thing, small and black, with red lines upon it and a single red eye burning in the middle of it.

She grabbed hold of it with telekinesis, drawing Soteria with one hand over her shoulder as she pulled the grimm towards her and onto the point of the blade.

Black tentacles flailed upon black metal for a moment, before drooping limply down and dissolving into ashes.

Sunset sheathed the sword back across her shoulder.

Weiss drew her sword out of the ground. "I've certainly fought tougher specimens," she observed.

Sunset walked towards her. "All the same, how did they control it?"

"I've no idea," Weiss admitted. She looked towards the tower, looming large before them. "But the answers we seek are close by now."

Sunset conjured her shield again as they resumed their progress, but she almost needn't have bothered because there were still no more shots from on top of the tower, no bullets, no bangs, no rockets. Sunset might have expected them to start shooting again after they saw their gigas fall, but nothing. Nothing but the tower itself, growing taller and taller as they got closer and closer.

It may have only been medium-rise, no more than twenty or twenty-five storeys, but it certainly loomed very high indeed as Sunset and Weiss stood beneath it. There were bodies lying around the tower. Some of them had wounds visible, in their fronts or on their backs, others — with guns lying next to them — looked as though they had fallen off the roof to the ground below.

Or been thrown off, though who would have done the throwing was a question without an obvious answer. Had the leader of this little cult tired of his followers?

There might be only one place that they would find out.

And yet, they advanced upon it slowly, stepping around the dead that lay around the tower. They avoided the parts of the pavement where the blood gathered, moving warily towards an open door that gaped before them like a black mouth.

Lights flickered in the room beyond, some sort of lobby, with a few faded chairs and an intercom panel on the wall. With the light flickering on and off like a disco strobe, it was hard to see anything, but at the same time, Sunset couldn't use her night vision spell because when the lights came on, she'd be blinded by them. But she could at least see the stairs, when the lights were on, and even a little when they were not.

Weiss continued to take the lead, not only because she had the aura but also because, with aura, she was just a lot faster than Sunset. Protection from harm was the most obvious advantage that aura conveyed, but as Sunset pounded up flight after flight of stairs, going up and around, up and around, turning left only to be confronted with yet more stairs with grey linoleum laid on them, she really missed having a great power within her that would make it all feel easy. As it was, she huffed and puffed her way up, legs aching, knees protesting at the constant pounding up and down. She wasn't quite so feeble that she had to stop for a rest, but she did notice Weiss slowing her own pace so as not to outrun Sunset.

Sunset hated her for that, and was very grateful at the same time.

Weiss, for her part, forbore to comment. Sunset was grateful for that too, and hated it.

Each flight of stairs led to a landing, with corridors running off it to the apartments within the building. It was all very quiet: no sounds, no signs of life, nothing but emptiness, and darkness. Dark corridors where the lights either didn't work or flickered on and off, dark doors without any light creeping underneath them. Silence — and bloodstains on the carpet. Bloodstains on the carpet and symbols drawn on the walls, symbols in black or red — hopefully red paint; with all her heart, Sunset hoped that it was red paint — daubed over the beige paint on the walls themselves. Eight pointed stars, that crescent symbol like Jaune's emblem inverted, rams' heads and beowolfs' gaping maws and king taijitus flickering their tongues. As they climbed the steps, Sunset came to prefer the darkness to the flickering light that would expose these symbols, casting them in an even more sinister light than the context as they appeared and then disappeared then showed themselves again in rapid succession.

The first sign of life came near the top of the building, not quite at the very highest floor but close to it. They heard the growl first, then a dog — a huge dog, a dog so huge that Sunset almost took it for a beowolf for a second and wondered how many other grimm had managed to get in here somehow — erupted out of the darkness and slammed into Weiss. It wasn't a beowolf, just a dog that was bigger than she was, as tall as Pyrrha and as muscular as Rainbow Dash with a mouthful of teeth like knives. The force of it knocked Weiss backwards into the wall' she nearly tumbled down the stairs into Sunset; the dog was on top of her, saliva dripping from its immense maw, its barks as loud as cannon fire. Myrtenaster had slipped from Weiss' grasp, and the dog had its mouth around her arm, biting into it again and again, taking chunks out of her aura with each bite.

It was huge. Sunset had never seen a dog so big before. The size of it — and the thought of what it would have done to her, without aura as she was — made her hands tremble a little as she unslung Sol Invictus off her shoulder.

She cocked the rifle as she aimed it at the enormous dog.

The dog turned its giant head, bigger than Jaune's head, towards her.

Sunset fired two shots in quick succession, echoing up and down the staircase. The first shot hit the dog in the neck, the second squarely in the head. Blood spattered over Weiss as the dog's lifeless body fell down onto her.

"Ugh," Weiss grunted, pushing the body off her lap and wiping futilely at her stained white clothes as she got to her feet. "Thank you."

Sunset shrugged. "You would have taken care of it eventually."

"Eventually," Weiss said in reply.

It was at that point that the two of them noticed a light coming from the corridor at the top of this flight of stairs. For the first time since they had begun to climb up and up and up this tower, they could see an open door and soft light streaming out of it. The two of them approached, moving side by side now, on either side of the corridor, not calling out — after what they'd seen so far, whoever was here was unlikely to be friendly — but rather, moving as quietly as they could manage until they reached the doorway and could look into the apartment itself.

A man stood with his back to them, dressed in a dun brown camelhair coat. His hair, which ran down to the collar of his coat, had once been blond, although it had faded now to a yellowish grey. He stood before a table lined with candles, so many candles dripping wax down onto the wooden surface, with more candles on smaller tables on either side of the doorway. A ram's skull was mounted on the wall in front of the man, surrounded by an eight-pointed star.

The smell of incense lay heavily in the air, getting up Sunset's nose and entering into her throat, making her want to cough or worse.

"Candles," the man said, in a rather hoarse, croaking voice that sounded as if he were struggling to enunciate each word. "Sigils, spells, and incantations, all rather absurd, isn't it? All this … flummery, genuflecting at the feet of a creature that perceives you only as prey. But over time, I must confess, I've come to rather appreciate them."

"You appreciate the opportunity it affords you for power over others, I suppose," Weiss said.

The man turned to face them. His skin was almost as grey as his hair, with a papery, or even sandpapery, quality to it, as though it had been dried out, every bit of moisture extracted from his flesh. It was stretched across his bones, sunken at his cheeks and beneath his eyes, even looking in places as though it was peeling away or crumbling into dust. His lips were dry and cracked and wrinkled, and his eyes were dark, the blackness expanding to consume the colour and the white alike.

Sunset took a step back. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

"A part of me hoped that the gigas would deal with you," the man said in his hoarse, halting voice. "When I realised that you were huntresses, it was clear that my flock would not be sufficient, though I thought my friend might. But another part of me is glad that you made it. This body of mine…" He held up one hand. His nails were long and yellow. "If anything survives this night, I shall need a new body, and yours … young and strong and perfect." He took a step towards them. His shadow, cast by the myriad candles, stretched out for them like a spear.

Sunset grabbed Weiss by the collar of her bolero and yanked her backwards, away from the man and his long shadow.

Having done so, she raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and fired.

There was a bang, and the man shuddered as the bullet entered his shoulder. He looked down at the hole in his camelhair coat and, with one long nail, poked at the flesh beneath.

"Now I shall definitely need a new body," he said.

"How … who are you?" Weiss asked.

The man smiled. "When a beowolf grows older, it becomes larger and larger, as well as more intelligent, more cunning, more wise. But what about a grimm without a body? What do you think happens to a chill when it gets older?"

It learns to control its stolen body far more effectively than before, Sunset thought. "You came to Vale and recruited cultists to worship the grimm—"

"I gave young men purpose, direction," said the chill. "That's what we have, but you don't; that's why you admire us, worship us, because we have what you lack in your aimless, miserable little lives! I filled up their lives with meaning, I made them—"

"Monsters," Sunset said.

"A monster knows what it is and what it does," said the chill. "It doesn't pretend, it doesn't doubt, it doesn't agonise."

"It only kills," said Weiss. "What was the purpose of all this?"

"Destruction is the purpose," declared the chill. "Destruction is everything. And when Vale falls tonight, destruction will consume everything you know."

"Vale isn't going to fall," declared Weiss. "Atlas will stop the grimm beyond the wall." She raised Myrtenaster. "And we will stop you here."

The chill laughed, or sounded as though it was trying to laugh; it came out as a kind of coughing, sawing sound. "I've been amongst you for a long time, but I'm still a grimm. I can still hear the singing of the horde calling to me. I can feel what's out there, their fury, their strength; I can feel the things that you haven't seen yet. You can't stop them." Its smile broadened. "And you can't stop me."

It started to lunge towards them — before Sunset slammed an inverted shield around it, and around its shadow for good measure.

"Watch us," Sunset said, even as her mind raced to try and think of a way to actually beat this thing. How to beat it, how to kill it, how to stop a chill, chill, chill, chill, how were you supposed to—?

"Sunset," Weiss said, as Myrtenaster's cylinder cycled to red fire dust, "can you run?"

"Maybe," Sunset said. "Why?"

Weiss swept her sword magisterially in front of her, flame leaping from the tip of the blade to spread out across the carpet of the room. The fire crackled and flickered as it began to spread, licking at the edges of the shield in which Sunset had trapped the chill.

"Because I think we should run," Weiss said.

Now, it was Sunset's turn to lead the way, her knees hammering as she pounded down the stairs, all the stairs, all the way back the way that they had come. Weiss was on her heels, and as she went, she cast more fires from her sword, fires on every floor that they descended.

Sunset kept her shield up as long as she could, though increasing distance as she plunged down the stairs made it more difficult, rendered the connection more tenuous. She could feel the flames lapping all around her barrier like water surrounding a rock; she could feel the chill within pounding on the shield trying to get out, though flame was all that awaited it on the other side.

She gasped for breath. She could smell the stench of the smoke from all the fires Weiss was causing, displacing the smell of perfumed incense in her nose and mouth.

Sunset started to cough, her connection to the magical barrier snapped.

But there was so much fire, fires everywhere, crackling above them, and Weiss was starting even more fires while she had dust; surely, there was no escape for the chill now.

Sunset and Weiss emerged from out of Dark Angel Tower. Almost as soon as Sunset began to slow, staggering to a halt, gasping for breath, she felt a stitch begin to stab her in the side. She winced and held that same side, for all the good it did.

Weiss turned around to look at the tower. Sunset did likewise, though her stitch kept her bent over a little.

The tower was burning. Flames leapt from every window, glass shattered, smoke rose into the air towards the moon. Fire consumed the interior; by the time it finished burning, there would be nothing left but that brutal concrete shell.

Nothing left of the chill, either. The flames would devour it, surely. Devour its body, certainly. Would its … essence burn? Yang had killed one, hadn't she? She and Team YRDN, as it had been then, had destroyed the host body and the chill with it. Now they would do the same, or had done the same; there was no way the body could survive in those flames.

It was gone.

She hoped it was gone.

Sunset watched the flames, along with Weiss, watching as the tower burned and, with good luck, took all its horrors with it. She straightened up, trying to ignore the pain in her chest as she did so.

Weiss glanced at her. "So," she said softly. "Where to now?"

Author's Note

I'm away this Friday so the next chapter will go up the following Monday, 27th May.

Power Plant (New)

Power Plant

"Where to now?" asked Weiss.

Sunset took a breath, and ignored the pain in her side. "Before I saw your Bullhead go down," she said, "I was on my way to the skydock. I saw a big explosion coming from there … it was a while ago at this point, I admit, but…"

"It's a possibility," Weiss said. "But Professor Goodwitch led some students down from Beacon into Vale before the grimm attacked the school. I was going to join them, wherever they are."

"That makes sense," Sunset allowed. "They might have taken care of the skydock already by now. They might have taken care of everything by now."

"They hadn't taken care of here," Weiss pointed out. As she got out her scroll, she said, "What will you do if they have taken care of everything else; or perhaps, in the circumstances, I should say 'everything else that Professor Goodwitch knows of'? What will you do then?"

"I … would need to think about it," Sunset murmured. "And you?"

"Accept the well-meant if slightly patronising concern of Rainbow Dash and Blake on the Atlesian lines, I suppose," Weiss said with a sigh.

"The Atlesian line?" asked Sunset.

"With my own team out of action, who else would I fight alongside?" Weiss responded. "You know, if you found Jaune out on the battlefield, then you wouldn't need to worry about your broken aura and your … vulnerability."

No, I'd just have to worry about what Ruby would do to me while I'm vulnerable, Sunset thought. "Well … it might come to that." If Vale had truly been made safe everywhere but here — and here had just been made safe by them, and by the roaring flames that cast a light upon their faces as it devoured Dark Angel Tower — then she could not, in good conscience, stay away from the battle line. Or at least, she couldn't stay away from the battle line without feeling like a coward.

The fact that she didn't want to go in order to avoid confronting Jaune and Ruby should maybe have made her feel like a coward also, but it didn't; it felt like prudent sagacity, even verging upon consideration for their feelings … provided that there was some good that she could do here instead.

"Could you just call Professor Goodwitch, please?" Sunset asked softly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves unnecessarily."

Weiss nodded and bent her head to look at her scroll, her thumbs tapping lightly across the screen. "One thing doesn't make any sense to me," she murmured, glancing up at Sunset with her cold blue eyes.

"Only one?" Sunset asked. "In this night of madness?"

Weiss didn't respond to that, except to continue as she probably would have regardless. "General Blackthorn — he's the Valish commanding officer, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sunset said. Or was, at least; I don't know what will happen with that post now.

"He went mad," Weiss said. "Because of a gas leak, or bad air, or whatever explanation was given that you imperfectly recall. It even affected General Blackthorn's command staff."

"That's right," Sunset confirmed, wondering where this was going.

"And when he started giving his mad orders, to attack Atlas, to institute martial law, to shoot people on the street," Weiss went on, "not a single person, not a ship captain or infantry officer or even a single stout-hearted sergeant told him 'no'?"

Sunset felt her mouth turn a little dry. It was … well, she couldn't say that Weiss didn't have a point. It was the weakness in the story that Councillor Emerald had thrown together, and it was a weakness which might not stand up to a great deal of scrutiny.

Mostly because there wasn't a good explanation for it, at least not one that did any favours to the Valish Defence Forces.

"Um … soldiers are trained to obey orders, are they not?" asked Sunset.

"To that extent? I should have hoped not," Weiss murmured. "Imagine if General Ironwood went mad; would all his soldiers obey him so easily? Would Rainbow Dash? Blake?"

"I imagine that the air filtration system in General Ironwood's office works perfectly well," Sunset suggested. "Considering the vaunted Atlesian technological prowess, it had better, don't you think?"

Weiss' eyebrows rose, but Sunset was spared from having to continue the discussion any further by Professor Goodwitch taking Weiss' call. The deputy headmistress' voice emerged from out of the device. "Miss Schnee, I must say that it's a surprise to hear from you."

"I apologise for bothering you, Professor," Weiss said. "But I've made my way to Vale, and I'm currently with Sunset Shimmer. We were wondering if we might be of any use to you."

There was a pause. "Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch said, in clipped tones. "I understand that you were with the First Councillor recently."

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said softly. "I was able to lend a hand."

"Fortune saw you in the right place at the right time, it would seem," Professor Goodwitch declared. "Or would you prefer to say it was destiny?"

"That isn't quite how I see destiny, Professor," Sunset replied. I might be persuaded to call it fate, though it is a fate that I would have avoided if I'd been given the choice.

Hence I cannot glorify it with the name of destiny.

"In any event, the cessation of hostilities from the Defence Forces is certainly making things easier," Professor Goodwitch went on. "We're securing or retaking key areas all across the city, often, thank goodness, without resistance. Where are you both?"

"Laceyton, Professor," Sunset said.

"My airship was shot down by some grimm cultists," Weiss explained. "But Sunset and I have managed to take care of them."

"Grimm cultists in Laceyton?" Professor Goodwitch repeated.

"They weren't taking part in the general assault," Sunset said. "Just taking advantage of the chaos."

"I see," said Professor Goodwitch. "In that case, good work, both of you. What have you done with the cultists?"

"I'm afraid they're dead, Professor," Weiss explained. "Their … there was a chill. It killed them before we could dispose of it."

"There is one survivor," Sunset said. "I had to leave him tied up in Cavendish Street, Professor; I couldn't raise the police."

"Cavendish Street; very well, I'll see if I can get in touch with someone and have a squad car pick them up," Professor Goodwitch said. "In the meantime, if you want to do more, then you can go to Batterham Power Station; it's one of Vale's largest, and it's gone dark; other power stations are working overtime to stop the blackouts from spreading, but if Batterham doesn't go back online, then some of those stations will begin to brown out. There were police stationed there, but I can't raise them, and the Defence Force unit sent to secure the plant isn't responding to Colonel Sky Beak. The students that I brought with me from Beacon have become thinly stretched; could you go and check out what's going on there?"

"Of course, Professor," Sunset said. "We'll be right there."

"I won't wish you luck, because you shouldn't need it if you use your heads," Professor Goodwitch said. "But take care, of each other and of yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor," Weiss said before she hung up. She didn't move to put her scroll away. "Batterham Power Station," she murmured. "Batterham Power Station. Ah, here it is." She held up her scroll, revealing a map of Vale with a yellow line cutting across it. "Hmm, it's a little across town."

"How far?" Sunset asked, walking around Weiss to get a better look at her scroll — and the map displayed on it.

"Eight miles, as the nevermore flies," Weiss said. "A little more by road."

"We don't want to walk there, then," Sunset said. "Follow me; I'll give you a ride."

It was Sunset's turn to lead the way, with Weiss following on behind her, as Sunset navigated back to where she had left her bike, parked out of sight of Dark Angel Tower and of the gunfire that had first assailed her when she passed by.

Now, there was no gunfire, just real fire as the tower burned from the inside out, yet still, it could not be seen, just as anyone still living in the burning tower could no longer have seen them.

Yet, Sunset could hear the flames regardless, burning away.

And a good thing too, considering.

"So … this is yours?" Weiss asked, gesturing.

Sunset huffed. "Don't say anything," she said.

"Oh, no, I would never," Weiss said. "It's actually very nice-looking."

Sunset stopped, wheeling around to face Weiss. Nobody had ever said anything that nice about her bike before. "Thank you!"

"For a piece of modern art," Weiss added, a smile playing upon her face.

Sunset's mouth twisted into an expression as sour as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. "Get on!" she snapped as she climbed astride her bike and began to pull her helmet on.

She felt one of Weiss' arms around her, grabbing hold of a handful of her leather jacket and pulling it across Sunset's belly. In her other hand, Weiss held her scroll, with the map still displayed upon its thin screen.

Sunset set off. Cognisant that Weiss' hold on her was not the most secure, what with Weiss needing one hand to hold her scroll and give the directions, Sunset didn't squeeze the accelerator too tight, moving at a speed that was far from a crawl but which wasn't likely to throw Weiss off the back of the bike either. They still moved a good deal faster than they would have on foot. Weiss gave the directions, which was fine when she was telling Sunset to take a left here, or turn right there, or straight on at this junction, but which occasionally slid into less helpful territory.

"You should be in the middle lane!"

"What does it matter what lane I'm in; the road is empty apart from us!"

"It's the principle of the thing!"

Sunset ignored her, and in any case, the relatively short distance between their starting point and Batterham Power Station meant there wasn't too much opportunity for such complaints. As Sunset had said, the streets were quiet; nothing had happened recently to make people more inclined to venture out of doors — except for the people in Laceyton fleeing their grimm cultist tormentors, but the two saw no evidence of that anywhere else, thank Celestia; all the other cultists hiding in Vale, poor people filled with resentment or rich people filled with depravity, had stuck to the plan, it seemed, and assailed the infrastructure upon which Vale depended — onto the roads or even the pavements. The outage at the power station had rendered Vale's houses even darker than before, regarding Sunset and Weiss with locked doors and drawn curtains and silence.

"People are going to be scared for a long time, aren't they?" Weiss observed. "Take the next left."

"They'll get over it," Sunset replied, as she turned as instructed. "People were scared after the Breach, but they got better."

"After the Breach, they were scared of monsters," Weiss remarked. "After tonight, they'll be scared of their own people. I wonder if that'll be harder to move beyond."

"Cheerful thought."

"As cheerful as the times," said Weiss.

With the power out, the streetlights were as dark as the houses, another reason for Sunset not to race along at top speed. She had her headlamp on, illuminating the road in front, but with the darkness pressing in about them, she was glad of a clear street with nothing stepping or swerving out in front of them.

As they approached the power plant, the world became less dark; not, however, because the street lights were on. Instead, it was flames that illuminated the surroundings, the flames of a burning truck that had been flipped upside down, wheels in the air, flames rising from the undercarriage as if they were reaching up towards the sky.

And the flames lit up a charnel house around the fallen truck; the dead lay everywhere, police officers in blue uniforms, men and women in protective vests or simply in ordinary business or casual attire — whether there were the grimm cultists or plain clothes police officers or both, Sunset couldn't have said — lying on the ground with pistols, rifles, shotguns, all different kinds of weapons lying nearby, all scattered across the concrete ground in front of the power station. There were a few downed soldiers too, in Valish green, but very few compared with the number of non-soldiers lying here.

It was quiet out here now; the only sound was the growling of the engine of Sunset's motorcycle, and even that ceased to purr as Sunset pulled up; it was quiet, because it seemed as though everyone was dead out here; they had all … but that truck; there were Valish military vehicles nearby and not enough fallen soldiers to have filled them up; even a single truck carried more men than that, as Sunset had found out outside the First Councillor's residence. So where were all the other soldiers?

Sunset took off her helmet, climbing slowly off her bike. Weiss had already dismounted, one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. She stepped delicately forward, her wedge-heeled boots lightly touching the ground. She stopped, her blue eyes widened, a little gasp escaping from her mouth.

"No!" She cried, running forward, her grip on her sword's hilt loosening as her arms flew up and down at her sides. "No, no, no, no!"

"Weiss?" Sunset asked. "Weiss, what—?"

Weiss stopped besides a body, the body of a woman, a faunus, a horse faunus with her tail hanging out from a specially cut hole in her pantsuit trousers. She was laying face down on the ground, only her dark hair visible. Sunset didn't recognise her, but Weiss clearly did, for she knelt down beside her, reaching out lightly for her, brushing her fingertips against the woman's back and against the back of her head, drawing Sunset's attention to the wounds that she had there. Blood-stained Weiss' fingertips as it was staining the woman's dark jacket and her dark brown hair.

"Please, no," Weiss whispered. "Not you too."

Weiss turned her body over, so that Sunset could see the sharp-angled face, the ducky lips that looked made for pouting, and she recognised this woman. It was the cop who had come to arrest Blake, the one who—

The one that Weiss and Flash and their team had worked with for a little bit last semester.

"Lieutenant?" Weiss said, her voice trembling. "Lieutenant Martinez? El-Tee?"

Lieutenant Martinez didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, her face was stained, not with blood but with dirt, probably from lying face down for however long. There was no response from her.

"Lieutenant?" Weiss repeated again, her voice soft, high pitched, almost childlike.

Sunset approached, kneeling down beside her.

Weiss put two fingers to Lieutenant Martinez's neck. "I can feel a pulse."

Sunset's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes!" Weiss cried. "Yes, I can feel it; she's alive! We need to get her to a hospital."

"Of course," Sunset said, starting to get to her feet. Of course they needed to get her to a hospital — she was lucky to still be alive, and who knew how long her luck would hold for? — but at the same time, it was easier to say 'we need to get her to a hospital' than it was to do it. It was one thing to carry a passenger on the back of Sunset's bike; it was another thing to carry someone unconscious who couldn't hold on for themselves.

Sunset looked around; there were plenty of cars here, some of them — like the ones that formed a tangled, crumpled mess in front of the power plant gates entrance — obviously unusable, but others looking as though they might still run just fine.

"Do you know how to drive a car?" Sunset asked.

"No," Weiss admitted, looking up at Sunset. "You?"

Sunset shook her head. "No."

"Well, um…" Weiss hesitated. "Here, hold the Lieutenant for a moment; I don't want to put her back on the ground."

Sunset nodded, and both her hands glowed green with magic as she levitated Lieutenant Martinez up off the ground, holding her flat in the air as if she was suspended on an invisible stretcher.

Weiss half-rose, although she still had her knees bent; she stood up just enough to draw Myrtenaster and rest the tip of the blade upon the ground.

Sunset wondered what she meant by that: was she going to make a line of glyphs to glide all the way to the nearest hospital? Or a line of ice to slide there on?

No glyphs formed, no ice erupted from the tip of the blade. Weiss' eyes were closed, screwed tight shut, her body trembling.

Sunset didn't say anything. It was clear that Weiss was attempting something that was a bit of a struggle for her, and she didn't want to interrupt. There was nothing worse when you were trying to perform complex spellwork than some oaf coming up and breaking your concentration.

Sunset had no desire to be the oaf, especially under these circumstances.

She stood there, holding Lieutenant Martinez, silently watching as a glyph did appear in front of Weiss, a glyph of cold blue, so pale that it was almost — but not quite — white, a glyph with a shimmering ethereal quality about it that did not quite match any of Weiss' glyphs that Sunset had seen before.

And from the glyph, rising head-first like a ship appearing over the horizon, emerged a ghostly beowolf, an alpha if Sunset was any judge, tall and burlier than most Valish beowolves, too burly to be called lean, certainly. Long, rangy arms reached down towards the ground, and long teeth emerged from an open mouth. It was the same pale blue colour as the glyph from which it had sprung, all of it that would have been black or bone or armour plate the same ephemeral, ghostly shade. Smoke rose, or seemed to rise, gently from its spectral form.

It ignored Sunset completely, its attention fixed on Weiss even as Sunset's attention was fixed upon it.

What was this?

And since when had Weiss been able to do it?

Weiss opened her eyes, and for the briefest second, a smile fleeted across her face before it was gone. She raised her sword, the glyph vanished beneath the beowolf's feet, but the beowolf itself remained.

Weiss gestured down. The beowolf dropped to all fours, which still put its shoulder about level with Weiss' head, then knelt, knees bending, back descending.

She leapt onto its back, avoiding the spurs of bone as she mounted the ghostly beowolf as though it were a horse. She turned to Sunset. "Give her to me."

Sunset magically raised Lieutenant Martinez up — she didn't move, she didn't make a sound, it was only the pulse which proclaimed that she was not dead — up into Weiss' arms. Weiss held the Lieutenant's limp, unconscious form in front of her, one arm wrapped around Lieutenant Martinez to hold her in place.

Lieutenant Martinez lolled against her rescuer.

"Hold on, Lieutenant, I've got you," Weiss murmured.

"Will that carry you all the way?" Sunset asked.

"So long as I have aura, yes," Weiss replied.

"If you say so," Sunset said. "You get her to help, and I'll look around here, see what's going on with the power."

Weiss looked at her, surprise in her eyes as though she had forgotten in the shock of finding Lieutenant Martinez why they had come to the power station in the first place. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine," Sunset assured her. "Go, while she still has time."

Weiss nodded, but said nothing more before the beowolf turned away, running on all fours — more in the Mistralian fashion than the Valish — off down the road, bearing its two passengers upon it. Its ghostly pallor, its shimmering, shining quality made it a beacon in these unlit streets, and Sunset was able to follow the conjured beowolf with her eyes for a while, until it turned away, running around a distant corner, and she lost sight of it and them.

Once more, Weiss found herself giving directions. This time to a thing, not even a person, not even alive.

But the summoned beowolf, the phantom of a kill, understood her regardless. It understood, and it obeyed. Weiss fumbled with her scroll, using a single thumb to navigate through the device, holding onto Lieutenant Martinez with her other hand as she searched for the nearest hospital. It wasn't far away — thank the gods, it wasn't far away — they could get there in time.

They had to get there in time.

Lieutenant Martinez had two children, two boys; she'd mentioned them more than once. Weiss had grown up without a mother — she wasn't dead, true, but she was so lost in drink that she might as well have been — and she would spare those two boys from that same fate if she could.

They would be in time. They had to be in time.

Her summoned beowolf showed the meaning of haste, bounding down the streets, devouring the tarmac beneath its paws, racing through the darkness and illuminating the ground around it briefly with an ethereal light. Weiss didn't bother to mention lanes now, not to this mount they rode; she just told it when to turn and where to turn, guiding it as the map on her scroll guided her towards the Jackson Memorial Hospital.

Lieutenant Martinez was silent; the only reason she wasn't motionless was that the movement of Weiss' summon — she was scarcely less glad now to have unlocked that power than when her summoned knight had saved Flash and Cardin — kept bouncing her up and down on its back, shifting her this way and that. Weiss would have worried about what the movement was doing to the lieutenant, save that she was more worried about what the delay that would result from going slower would do to her, and she judged the speed to be worth the risk.

She held on tight, one arm wrapped around the lieutenant's waist. She would not fall. Weiss would not let her fall.

Lieutenant Martinez had been shot twice, as far as Weiss could make out — at least, twice once her aura was broken — once in the back and once in the back of the head. It was a miracle that she was still alive, and after however long she had been lying there before Weiss got to her. If there was some unknowable power, some miraculous force keeping Lieutenant Martinez alive, then Weiss could only hope it would continue to smile down upon her for just a little longer, until Weiss could get her to help.

While the beowolf ran on, while Weiss sat upon its back with nothing to do but hope and give directions for this turning or that, as the beowolf ignored red lights and one-way streets as it tore through silent and desolate Vale, Weiss wondered what had become of Detective Mallard. She hadn't seen his body, but then, after she'd seen Lieutenant Martinez, she hadn't really stopped to look at the others around. Perhaps she should have, perhaps she should have checked to see if anyone else was alive and needed assistance instead of just focussing on the one person that she knew and recognised.

How many other people could I carry on the back of this summon? What might have happened to Lieutenant Martinez while I was checking the status of everyone else lying on the ground?

She had her defence prepared. It came so easily to her mind that Weiss had to conclude there was some truth in it, but all the same, she did wonder for the fate of the other Flying Squad officer whom they had worked with, the would-be huntsman who had entered the police as his second choice. Was he dead? Had Weiss missed sight of him? Was he laying out there, like the Lieutenant, seeming dead but not, waiting for help that might not come?

When I've delivered El-Tee into the hands of a doctor, then I'll go back, check the others, help Sunset.

It's not as though I can help the Lieutenant at all by standing outside her room while they perform surgery, or whatever it is they're going to do.

"Here!" she said to the summoned beowolf. "Turn left here!"

The beowolf turned immediately, making not a sound — either in the sense of it growling or snarling or in the sense of its footfalls making any noise at all upon the tarmac — as it bounded down a two-lane entrance road with a sign outside declaring that this was, indeed the Jackson Memorial Hospital. There were lights positioned before the sign to illuminate it, but they were not on. There were no lights on as the beowolf ran down the road and into a car park, with a few cars and some lights, all of which were dark.

Of course. The power. Weiss debated whether to go to another hospital, but the next nearest hospital — Kingsland — was much further away; Lieutenant Martinez might not have that long.

And besides, although the lights outside and in the car park were dark, Weiss could see some lights coming from inside the hospital itself — although they were somewhat faint; the building was hardly illuminated as she would expect. Weiss guessed — Weiss hoped — that they were conserving energy in light of the situation.

This remained her best bet and Lieutenant Martinez's best hope.

If her bet was wrong and her hopes disappointed … she would have to find more hope that the lieutenant could withstand a longer journey.

The beowolf carried Weiss near to the front entrance, stopping just beyond the ambulance parked outside the automatic doors. Weiss leapt down, cradling Lieutenant Martinez in her arms as best she could, considering the difference in their heights — the lieutenant's legs drooped almost to the floor as Weiss favoured her top half — and left her summons standing guard outside as she ran in.

The automatic doors still worked, even if there were not many lights on; they slid open to admit Weiss into a dark lobby, where the only lights were coming from deeper inside the hospital.

"Hello?" Weiss called. "Hello, is anyone there?"

"Yes." There was a flash of light, a torch held in the hands of a heavyset woman in lavender scrubs moving towards her. "Yes, yes, we're here. But with the power out, we've got the backup generator running; don't want to tax it too hard with lights and such. Necessary use only. Now what—?" She had gotten close enough now to see Lieutenant Martinez, the light of the torch illuminating both her unconscious form and Weiss' own face.

"What happened?" demanded the woman — a nurse, Weiss presumed.

"She's been shot," Weiss said. "And a while ago, maybe. I wasn't there, I only found her recently, I don't know how long she was—"

"Okay, it's okay, honey, it's alright," the nurse assured her. She turned her back on Weiss and bellowed down the corridor, "Doctor! I need help over here!"

There was a faint rumbling sound, the rapid tapping of feet on tiles, and then a doctor in a white coat and two more nurses in lavender appeared, wheeling a stretcher out of the light and into the darkness towards them.

"Gunshot wounds," the heavyset nurse declared as they approached. "Unknown time ago."

"Where?" asked the doctor.

"Her back and the back of her head," Weiss said, her voice trembling.

The doctor didn't say anything, but her expression did not look very optimistic. "Put her on her front," she said.

The two nurses lifted Lieutenant Martinez's unconscious form from out of Weiss arms and turned her over, putting her down on the stretcher, lying on her front, her head just past the top of the stretcher so she didn't suffocate, her back and her wounds exposed to view as the first nurse shone her torch upon them.

"Prep her for emergency surgery," the doctor ordered. "Operating Room Three, let's go."

"Will she—?" Weiss began.

"We'll do our best," the doctor assured her, in a tone that sounded like a promise even as it promised nothing.

They said nothing else. They wheeled the lieutenant away, their stretcher rumbling on the floor, their feet pounding as they dragged her off, down the corridor, into the light, towards what would hopefully be her salvation.

Or would be the last time Weiss ever saw her.

She felt the hand of the first nurse to find her upon her shoulder.

"I know this isn't the best first impression you could get," she said, her voice deep and a little hoarse, "but this hospital is still full of good people who know what they're doing. They really will do all they can for your friend, and more." She paused. "I'm afraid I can't offer you a cup of nothing — we gotta save power, after all — but you're welcome to sit here awhile, if you like."

"No," Weiss said quickly, shaking her head. "No, I can't stay. I've got a … there's someone waiting for me; I shouldn't leave them alone too long."

"Back out there?" the nurse asked. When Weiss nodded, the nurse nodded. "Mmhmm, I can't say I'd want to be left alone too long on a night like this either."

Sunset approached the gates to the power station slowly. There was a wall around the power plant; it wasn't so high that she couldn't see the immense funnels of the cooling towers rising above, with gaping mouths like worms that wanted to swallow the moon; it wasn't even so high that she couldn't see the main body of the power plant, square the concrete, nestling in between the huge funnels. Sunset could have teleported over the wall, but first, she preferred to get a look at what was on the other side, and so she approached the gate, or at least what remained of the gate. There was a crashed wreck in front of them: a large and sturdy-looking van had partially hit the gate while at the same time getting wedged in a collision with a police car that had left the whole thing unable to move, parts of the metal gates twisted and crumpled inwards. Other parts of the gate, less covered by the wreck, looked as though they had been cut, the metal bars sheared away in clean strokes.

Sunset reached the wreck, crouching down behind the damaged police car. She was aware — she could not not be aware — of the bodies around her. Dead bodies, the bodies of people who had died here, died defending this place.

The night was cold, but it was not the cold that made Sunset shiver. Rather, it was the fact that all this death could not but make her more conscious of her lack of aura.

A well-placed bullet, and she would end up as dead as any of these police officers.

Sunset's hand shook.

She had no aura, and she was all alone.

Weiss had left her all alone. There was no one else here but her.

I don't suppose that anyone's going to show up out of the darkness to back me up? Anyone?

No?

No one at all?

No. No one. Of course no one was coming; who was there to come? Weiss had just left; Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash, they were all fighting out there somewhere beyond the walls; Cinder was seeking her revenge; Amber was … Sunset didn't know where Amber was, but not here. She wouldn't come here. No one was coming here.

Sunset was all alone.

All alone and aura broken and trembling.

The dead mocked her. Their eyes, lifeless and lightless and motionless, found her nonetheless. They stared at her, they glared at her, they fixed her with their gaze and mocked her surely as a heckling crowd that savages the hapless clown who dies on stage with their stale jokes and worn out observations.

Sunset closed her eyes, throwing her head backwards; it struck the side of the police car with a thunk.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I'm going."

She clambered over the police car — walking around it would have meant exposing herself for longer to the hollow gazes of the dead — and landed awkwardly on the other side. Sunset ducked through the hole cut in the gate, her tail catching for a moment on the metal bars that remained, but not snagging, thankfully.

Sunset took deep breaths as she looked around. Inside, the grounds of the plant was quiet. She couldn't see anything here, just empty car parking spaces, zones for delivery vehicles, what you would expect to find outside of any workplace, but all empty.

With no lights, Sunset cast the night vision spell on herself, wondering what she might see once her eyes could penetrate the darkness.

She wasn't entirely looking forward to seeing better, in this case.

But she saw nothing still, no cars, no people, just the plant itself, with those immense funnels looming over her and over Vale.

Sunset walked forward, her steps tentative even as she endeavoured to be more catlike than horselike in her tread. She couldn't see anyone out here, but it didn't mean that there was absolutely no one out here, no one with a way to disguise themselves beyond her sight.

For that matter, it didn't mean that there was nobody watching her from inside the power plant. Just because they'd cut the power to the city didn't mean that there was no power inside. They might be watching her on CCTV cameras.

It occurred to Sunset that she had no idea how to get the power back on. But then, she hadn't told Professor Goodwitch that she would, only that she would see what was happening at the plant.

And here I am, seeing what's happening. Professor Goodwitch has nothing to complain of.

She walked forwards, arms up a little, her tail drooping limply behind her. Her breath misted up in the air a bit before her as she walked, slowly but steadily, towards the plant itself.

Nothing emerged out of the darkness to assail her, nobody shot at her from concealment, nobody suddenly started a car and then tried to run her over.

She was alone out here.

That was good for her body, but it didn't do Sunset's nerves much good as she approached the door.

The door had scanners mounted on the wall next to it, more than one, but the door — a solid metal door, painted bright yellow — was open in spite of them. There were no lights coming from inside, at least not as far as Sunset could see.

She stepped gingerly through the open door, trying to push it open a little more so that she didn't have to squeeze through quite so much; it didn't budge — she guessed it was automated to swing back and forth rather than yielding to a human hand — but by putting her back into it, she was able to move it just a fraction; she still had to sidle through, but it felt just a little bit easier.

Through the door, she found herself in what looked like a dark lobby. A white-bearded security guard sat behind a desk: he was dead, head thrown backwards, mouth gaping open. Someone had shot him between the eyes.

Something happened here, then.

The … the grimm cultists attacked the police, and then the soldiers attacked both of them? And then they cut through the gate, came here, killed the guard, and then … what?

And how many soldiers are in here?

With her aura, the numbers wouldn't have worried her. Without her aura…

Sunset got out her scroll and tapped out a brief message.

Weiss

Am inside the power plant. Think soldiers have been in here.

Am going in.

She sent it to Weiss, then climbed over the waist high security barriers.

Of course, she shouldn't have to fight the soldiers, not at this point. Whatever they had done before, whatever they had been sent to do, that was all over now. Sonata was dead, General Blackthorn had been relieved, Colonel Sky Beak had ordered all units back to their barracks. Perhaps that was why Sunset hadn't seen any of them, because they'd all left on Colonel Sky Beak's orders.

But then, why didn't they take their vehicles with them?

Unlike the Valish Military Headquarters, this place was well signposted; just beyond the security barriers, Sunset saw signs for the cafeteria, maintenance, payroll & human resources, and reactor control. It was towards the latter that Sunset headed, thinking to maybe find out what had gone on here, why the power was out.

She could guess, but she didn't know for sure, and her guess didn't tell her why the soldiers didn't appear to have returned to barracks in their vehicles.

The corridors of the power plant had grey walls, with visible pipes running along both sides of the walls and the ceilings above. Sunset wondered what was running through those pipes; dust had to be running through at least some of them, water maybe, and perhaps other things as well that she couldn't guess at.

She came across a dead soldier, sprawled out in the corridor; he hadn't been shot, as far as Sunset could tell when she knelt down to examine the body; rather, it looked as though he had been struck from behind, hard enough to stove the back of his head in.

He wasn't the only one. The bodies were not pressed close together; rather, they were spread out, as though they had been deliberately killed at a distance from one another. It was disconcertingly like a path, a path leading her step by step, yard by yard, inexorably towards the reactor control room.

The door to the control room was ajar. There was a dead body right outside of it and light spilling out from within, bright lights that threatened to blind Sunset's night vision until she dispelled the enchantment on herself, and then it was only light.

She pushed at the door. It swung open for her, allowing her to step over the body and into a room lined on one side with terminals and monitors, displaying things and controlling things that Sunset wouldn't have wanted to touch for fear of blowing something up.

The room was large, spacious, but empty, save for a single man, a Valish officer in a green uniform with his back to Sunset.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Are you a huntress?" he asked.

"Something like that," Sunset said softly. She stepped sideways away from the door. "My name is Sunset Shimmer. And you are?"

"Harris," he said. "Major Harris, Royal Fusiliers."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Sunset murmured. "But I am a little curious as to what you're still doing here. Councillor Emerald ordered all units back to barracks, I believe."

"Yes," Major Harris said. "Yes, I understand he did. He gave the order after…" He paused for a moment. He had his pistol drawn, holding it in one hand, fondling the black barrel with the other. "Have you had a nightmare, Miss Shimmer?"

"Upon occasion, sir, yes," Sunset said.

"I woke from a nightmare," said Major Harris. "A nightmare in which I did things, terrible things, and then I woke up and found that it was no nightmare at all. I had done all those things. The nightmare was my life, and it always would be."

"The police outside," Sunset said.

"Yes," Major Harris said. "I can't … seemed so clear at the time, but now … all that I remember is that I did it."

"And…" Sunset licked her lips. "Where are the people who man this power station?"

"Most of them are locked in the cafeteria, for their own safety," Major Harris said. "A few of them died before I — before we — woke up, but not many, thank gods. Most of them still live."

That's one piece of good news, at least. "And the soldiers?" Sunset asked. "Were they your men?"

"They were," Major Harris confirmed. "I did … justice to them. They have paid for their crimes, as I must pay for mine." He raised his pistol to his head.

"WAIT!" Sunset shouted, one hand beginning to glow with magic, so that she could yank the gun out of his hand if he wouldn't listen to her. "Wait, please, for … just, please, wait. No, don't wait, don't just wait, just … just don't. Don't do this, sir, please."

Major Harris stared at her from over his shoulder. "You don't understand," he whispered.

Sunset took a step towards him, holding out her hands, palms outwards. "I think I might understand better than you realise, sir."

"I've killed men," he said.

"So have I," Sunset told him. "And … I won't sugarcoat it for you, because you wouldn't believe me if I tried; you'll have to live with what you've done. You'll always have to live with what you've done. But that's just the point, Major Harris, you have to live with it. Because no matter what you've done, no matter, you can always do better. Always. No exceptions. Unless you pull that trigger, because if you do, then … what? If it would bring a single dead man or woman out there back from the dead, a life for a life, then maybe, sure, do it, make the trade. But it won't. You know it won't. Not a single one."

"No," Major Harris allowed. "But it will…" He trailed off.

Sunset took another step closer. "Will what, sir?" she asked, sensing that she might be getting through to him. "What will it do?"

When Major Harris spoke again, his voice was shaking. "Justice?" he suggested, as though he wasn't sure of the answer.

"Justice," Sunset repeated quietly. "I … I won't claim to know much about justice, save that it is a hard word for a hard thing, to my mind. Was it justice that demanded that you…?” She searched for a way to say ‘was it justice that you kill your own men?’ without making it sound as though she was judging him for it.

“Punish my troops?” Major Harris finished for her. “Yes, yes, it was. That was justice.”

A hard thing indeed. Sunset considered that the Major’s mood would hardly be improved to find out that he had been the victim of mind control — considering what he’d just done to his soldiers, it would probably make him feel like even more of a murderer than he did already.

“You followed orders,” she said softly.

“Does that excuse me?” asked Major Harris. “Does that excuse my hands?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “I’m not an expert on justice. I prefer mercy.”

“And so you would have me show myself the mercy I didn’t show those under my command?”

“Well, if I’d gotten here, I would have urged mercy on them, too,” Sunset said. She paused. “Did it help?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did it help? It’s a simple question,” Sunset replied. “Did killing all your soldiers, did delivering justice to them, did it help?”

“Help who?” asked Major Harris. “Help what?”

“Help you, help them, help anyone?” Sunset demanded. “Has your justice saved any lives? No. Has it brought anyone who was dead back to life? No. All you’ve done … to be blunt, sir, all you’ve done in your pursuit of justice is add more bodies to a pile of them that was too large already. I’m not sure another for the mound will change that. Do you think that you’re a murderer, sir?”

Major Harris was silent for a moment. “I didn’t.”

“And do you think your troops were murderers?”

“No,” Major Harris said softly. “No, I did not.”

“None of this was your fault, sir,” Sunset said. “None of this was the fault of anyone under your command—”

“Then I must answer for their deaths, if not for the actions that we committed together under General Blackthorn’s orders,” said Major Harris.

“And what good will that do?” Sunset asked. “How will your death brighten this night, instead of adding to its sorrows?”

“It will mean that I don’t have to live with what I’ve done,” said Major Harris, in a quiet voice.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “What were you living for before, if you don’t mind me asking, sir?”

Major Harris glanced at her. “Excuse me?”

“Why did you get up in the morning?” Sunset asked him. “What were you living for? Why did you put that uniform on each day, or even in the first place?”

Major Harris laughed bitterly. “A couple of years ago, I considered taking it off. I joined the Valish Defence Force because I wanted to protect Vale, to do my duty, but all that we did was … it was so boring that it became hard to convince myself that it was worthwhile. I offered my resignation. If only it had been accepted then—”

“Then someone else would have received General Blackthorn’s order and come here,” Sunset told him.

“But not I,” said Major Harris.

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But not you. Why wasn’t your resignation accepted?”

“I was persuaded to stick it out, for the sake of my pension,” Major Harris replied. “For the sake of my pension, I … I have done…”

“What would you have done instead?” asked Sunset. “What did you plan to do when you left the Defence Force.”

“I thought about applying to join the police,” Major Harris said. “I might have ended up answering the scrolls, but I thought I couldn’t feel less useful than I did in the military.”

“Because you still wanted to protect Vale,” Sunset said. “You still wanted to be of service. Well, I’ve got good news for you, sir, you still could.” Hopefully, the police wouldn’t hold all of this against former soldiers looking for a career change. “Vale still needs good people, it still needs public servants and protectors, now more than ever, maybe. With all this chaos and confusion, everything that’s happened tonight … I hope Councillor Emerald will survive politically as well as physically, but he may not; your mob is fickle. If he doesn’t, or even if he does, Vale is … likely to be a bit of a mess going forward, I think, wouldn’t you agree?”

Major Harris snorted. “You might be understating the case.”

“Vale will need every willing hand that it can get in the days to come,” Sunset said. “You can be amongst those willing hands … or you can be another body on the mound. I don’t think you really need me to tell you which of those options serves Vale best.”

Major Harris closed his eyes. “But I will have to live with what I’ve done.”

“Yes,” said Sunset. “Yes, you will, you must. And I won’t pretend that it will be easy or that you’ll never wish you’d ignored me tonight, but … when you look back at all that you’ve done after tonight, you’ll agree that it was worth it, I hope. Alive, you may still serve many. Perished … you’ll serve no one.”

Major Harris was silent. He was silent and as still as stone.

Then the pistol dropped from his hands to clatter to the floor at his feet.

Sunset telekinetically snatched it away, as she let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “Thank you, Major,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’ve no need to thank me,” Major Harris said. “Although you’ll forgive me if I don’t thank you, either.” He looked down at his booted feet. “What … what now?”

“Now,” Sunset said. “I think that—”

The earth trembled. A great rumbling sound filled the air as Sunset was pitched forwards, falling onto her knees on the floor with a solid thump. Her knees hurt, pain throbbing up her legs, and her hands hurt too as she threw them out to catch her fall.

"What was that?" Sunset demanded, wincing at the pain. She picked herself up, holding out her arms on either side of her for balance as the world continued to shake around her. She ran from the room, or at least, she ran as quickly as she could with the word shaking, with the pipes trembling above and around her, with the ceiling feeling as though it might cave in at any moment. She ran past or over the bodies of the Valish soldiers, vaulted over the security barrier in the lobby, out of the door and into the darkness.

The rumbling filled the air, coming from the east, from the south east, as though it were coming all the way from Mountain Glenn.

What new horrors have you devised? Have you not tormented me enough? Will I never be free of you?

Sunset turned southeast as the rumbling stopped, as the shaking in the earth stopped.

She turned southeast in time to see a dragon-like creature rise before the moon, silhouetted by the silvery light, and spread its leathery wings.

Author's Note

I know one reviewer on Fanfiction.net who appreciated the fact that Martinez had died because they'd grown impatient with the lack of body count up until that point. However, for those of you who were shocked or saddened by her apparent death earlier, you will appreciate her deliverance.

Trump Card (Rewritten)

Trump Card

Rainbow stared out of the cockpit window at the grimm that hovered in the air, silhouetted against the moon.

Blake and Ciel were both squeezed into the cockpit with her, Blake standing side on between Rainbow and Midnight, Ciel with one hand on Rainbow’s chair.

“Look at the size of that thing,” Blake murmured. “So far away, and yet, we can see it so clearly?”

“Lady’s Grace protect us,” Ciel whispered.

Rainbow’s eyes were wide. This thing was … it was massive. Blake was right; to be able to see it so clearly, from so far away, it was still almost as far away as the mountains that it had sprung out of — and what was that about, anyway, to burst out of a mountain like an overgrown mole? — and yet, despite being so far away that it was out of CCT range, it was still not only visible, but visible as more than a black spot in the distance. She could make out its wings, its tail; yes, she couldn’t see a lot of actual detail, but that was because it had the moonlight to its back. It was still ridiculous the fact that they could see so much at all, and spoke to the size of the grimm.

It wasn’t that big grimm, even giant grimm, were unheard of. They weren’t. Everyone knew that they were out there, mostly at sea but occasionally to be found on land too. They were called titan-class grimm.

But that ‘occasionally’ was the word. You didn’t see them very often.

Just like you don’t see grimm hordes very often normally.

Salem must be pulling out all the stops for this.

It had to be her. Rainbow didn’t know how she was doing it, whether she had, like, a magical or a mental link to the grimm, but there was no doubt in her mind that Salem was responsible. After all, the grimm had come up from a mountain not far from Mountain Glenn, if she was any judge; it hadn’t come out to play when the city was falling, when the grimm were sweeping down on Vale, when they were rushing through the tunnel, but now, now it decided to get on the dancefloor?

That was too much of a coincidence for Rainbow to accept. Yes, battles attracted grimm — and that was probably resulting in a flow of reinforcements to the attack tonight — but this wasn’t the first battle fought around Vale, and this particular grimm wasn’t even really around Vale in any sense, so that the fact that it had woken up now was not just a random happenstance or the consequence of the emotions of fighting.

Salem had done this; there was not a doubt in her mind. Not a one.

“She’s playing her trump card,” Rainbow murmured.

“What?” Blake asked.

“Salem,” Rainbow explained. “She isn’t making the progress that she wanted to with her other grimm — the attack on the right flank has just stalled out — so she’s sending in a game changer to … change the game.”

“That … makes sense,” Blake said softly. “But why? Why now?”

“Because she’s not making the progress that she wanted to,” Rainbow repeated.

“If it’s that important to her then, and she could send this grimm in whenever she wanted to, then why now?” Blake asked. “Why not send it in first, to spearhead the assault?”

“Because it is very rare?” Ciel suggested. “It stands to reason — or at the very least, it stands to hope — that grimm like these are few in number. Salem may have wished to avoid deploying it unless she had no other choice, in case of it being lost.”

“So you think it can be lost?” Blake asked. “You think it can be killed?”

“Any grimm can be killed,” Ciel said at once.

“Especially by Atlesian firepower,” Rainbow added.

“In any case,” Ciel added, “more productive than speculating on the motives of Salem for deploying this grimm here, what are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to follow our orders and return to the Atlesian lines,” Rainbow said, turning the controls to guide the Skyray in the direction of the Atlesian positions. “We can’t take that thing on, we don’t have any orders to take that thing on. General Ironwood will … task units as appropriate. He tasked us to take out that Apex Alpha on the hill; he’ll task someone else, air units most likely, to take out the … that thing there.”

“I hope so,” Blake said softly.

“Count on it,” Rainbow declared.

“Do you think…?” Blake trailed off.

“Do we think?” asked Midnight. “That is a very interesting question, Blake; I wouldn’t count on an affirmative answer from everyone in this cockpit.”

“Aha, aha,” Rainbow muttered. “I don’t know whether to be impressed you’ve kept your sense of humour at a time like this or to hate the fact that you’ve kept your awful sense of humour.”

“My sense of humour is not awful,” Midnight replied affrontedly. “My sense of humour is dry.”

“How can you talk like this at a time like this?” Blake demanded.

“Perhaps I have been programmed to lighten the mood in stressful situations?”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “Have you?”

“No,” Midnight said. “I simply say what comes into my code without restraint.”

“You were about to say something,” Ciel prodded.

“Oh, right,” Blake said. “I was going to say … do you think that a grimm that size could maybe take the place of an Apex Alpha? Take command of the grimm on this flank?”

“Or even all the grimm,” Midnight added.

“Thanks, Midnight,” Rainbow muttered.

She paused for a moment. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t see what Blake was getting at, although she certainly wished that she could fail to see what Blake was getting at. It certainly wasn’t a comfortable thought, that all their hard work might turn out to be for nothing, now that a new, much bigger grimm had shown up from Mountain Glenn.

Or even worse.

“It’s not going to go down like that,” Rainbow assured Blake, and in the process assured herself. “It isn’t going to be that way because, even if that other grimm could take command of all the other grimm, it isn’t gonna get the chance. You’ll see; our airships are going to blow it out of the sky long before it becomes a threat. You’ll see. It’s going to be taken care of. The General has everything under control.”

Ironwood stared at the image of the grimm in the viewscreen. It was … it was a huge creature, a true titan of a grimm; it had to be the size of one of his cruisers, perhaps even a little larger — although it surely couldn’t be much larger than that.

The creature’s head alone looked substantial: triangular in shape, large enough to swallow a Skyray whole, the top of the head was covered in white bone, crisscrossed with blood red lines, while the lower jaw was the black, fleshy substance that all grimm were made of. A pair of horns curved backwards from the skull, and Ironwood found that he was in no doubt that the grimm’s jaw was full of teeth.

It obligingly opened its mouth to confirm that, yes, it was; no doubt, it had roared, although Ironwood couldn’t hear it. He could only see it; there was no sound.

The grimm had a thick, round torso, with bone ribs visible running down the outside of its flesh and a pair of immense wings protruding out on either side. The wings were made up of black fingers, as one might call them, black spurs descending back from the main strut of each wing, strut and spurs alike ending in a white bone claw. Between the spurs stretched a red, leathery-looking substance, so thin that it had holes in it in places, and yet, the grimm seemed to have no trouble at all remaining airborne.

A pair of legs fell from the back of the grimm’s torso, ending in a pair of avian feet with vicious-looking claws of bone, while a long tail stretched out behind it, growing thinner as it did so, until it ended in three clawed points, more like an extra limb than a tail.

The grimm’s armour was mainly concentrated around its muscles, with long spurs of bone emerging out of its powerful shoulders, with other, smaller spurs emerging from thick thighs; the rest of its body had some bone visible, but not a lot; its body was mostly black and unprotected.

Hopefully, that would work to their advantage.

Fitzjames rose half out of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms. “What…?”

“Look at the size of that thing,” murmured des Voeux.

“That’ll do,” Ironwood said sternly, or at least putting the appearance of sternness into his voice. “I know that this thing looks big, and I know that its appearance is unexpected, but it’s still just a grimm, and gods know that we’ve killed plenty of grimm tonight already. Whatever its size, whatever its capabilities, it is as mortal and as vulnerable as the youngest beowolf or ursa, and like them, we will take it down. Cunningham, what’s it doing?”

“It’s moving on a course that will take it in front of the Green Line, sir.”

“Across the face of the line?” Ironwood asked.

“Yes, sir,” Cunningham replied. “If it doesn’t change its course, then it will pass across it and continue north.”

“I see,” Ironwood murmured. He would bet a lot that the grimm was not going to continue on its present course indefinitely. More likely, it would wheel to the left at some point and assault the Green Line, or the Atlesian air units position overhead. Assuming it was still alive by then.

“Des Voeux,” he said. “Patch me through to all units.”

“Aye aye, sir,” replied des Vœux. “Putting you through now.”

Ironwood cleared his throat. “Soldiers, sailors, and pilots of the Atlesian forces. Specialists. Students of Atlas Academy. You have fought and displayed bravery that will resound throughout the annals of our kingdom and the history of its military. Were this battle over, you would have already done deeds worthy to be remembered on the colours of your battalions.

“Unfortunately, the battle is not over yet.

“You will have all felt, and many of you will have seen, the emergence of a new, large grimm from the southeast of Vale. I am designating that grimm a ‘dragon.’ It is heading in our direction, and I have no doubt that it means to join the battle here.

“I’m not going to pretend that it poses no threat. What I will say to you — what I will remind you — is that the hordes of grimm confronting you across the field when this battle began also posed a threat, the grimm who continue to assail your positions continue to pose a threat, but they are threats that you have withstood, your courage buttressed by superior firepower and tried and tested battlefield tactics. We will withstand the dragon in the same way.

“Ground units, continue to hold your positions and trust in your cruisers and supporting air squadrons to protect you; infantry commanders, you should be prepared to rely more heavily on ground fire from the spiders just in case air support is disrupted. Air units, be prepared to engage the dragon as directed.

“We have the firepower, and we have the resolve to use it. So trust your ships, trust your weapons, and trust your comrades, and this dragon will be just one more incident in a long night. Ironwood out.” He paused for a second, to let des Voeux cut off communications to the other Atlesian units, before he said, “Get me Spitfire on the line.”

A green laser beam burst from the cannon mounted about Spitfire's cockpit, flying over her head and into the darkness to hit a nevermore square in the breast. The grimm was punctured like a balloon, exploding in a burst of black feathers barely visible in the night sky.

"Wonderbolt Lead, this is Valiant."

Spitfire hauled back on her stick, turning her Sky Dart upwards and to the right, angling the airship a little away from the battle momentarily. "This is Wonderbolt Lead, reading you loud and clear, Valiant."

"Spitfire," General Ironwood said, "I need you to take your squadron and intercept and destroy that dragon before it reaches our positions."

"Copy that, sir; we'll get it done." Spitfire said calmly.

It wasn't an unexpected order, really. It was obvious from the moment that that thing — the dragon — appeared in the sky that someone would have to take it out, and it was no real surprise — at least not to Spitfire — that that someone ended up being the Wonderbolts.

When you had an elite squadron lying around, or flying around, why not use it, after all?

Nor was it very surprising that the General wanted the dragon destroyed sooner rather than later. With a grimm that size, you didn't want to give it too many chances to show what it could do.

There was the issue of having to engage it over the heads of the grimm, but you had to take these risks sometimes.

"Good hunting. Ironwood out."

Spitfire immediately switched to the squadron channel. "Okay, Wonderbolts, listen up. We are going to engage and destroy that dragon. Disengage and form up on me in arrowhead formation by flight.”

Spitfire climbed higher, higher than the Atlesian cruisers, higher than the rest of the aerial battle, before she levelled off and waited for the rest of the squadron to break off the action — they had split up by pairs, and it would take some of them longer to clean up and form up than others. Nobody wanted to just turn around and leave a nevermore or a griffon or, worse yet, a teryx hanging around in the sky to possibly follow them.

None of her pilots were in trouble, nobody had called for help, nothing looked alarming on her sensors — except, of course, for that dragon — and she hadn't lost any pilots since the incident with those two Valish fliers around the Amity Arena, but some of the Wonderbolts were dealing with trickier grimm than others and would take a little longer to take care of business.

From her holding position, hovering above the battle, Spitfire could look down — although she had to angle her Sky Dart just a little bit to get a decent look — and see the fighting raging in the sky below. While there was fighting going in the skies even beyond the Atlesian front lines, as fighter pilots sought to protect the bombers and stop the flying grimm from intercepting their strafing or bombing runs, the aerial fighting was heaviest around the cruisers. The grimm weren't stupid, especially when they were gathered in these numbers, and they knew that Atlesian success — and their own inability to break the Atlesian line — owed a lot to the firepower that those cruisers could rain down on the ground in support of the infantry. And so, while the grimm were making some efforts to intercept the bombers — mostly failing efforts — the majority of the nevermores and the griffons and the teryxes were preoccupied with throwing themselves against the cruisers, trying to break through the fighter screens and overwhelm the point defences and claw their way inside the vessels.

They hadn't been wholly unsuccessful. They'd brought down the Third Squadron's Gallant, which had been formed on the flank of the line and vulnerable to attack from two sides. Now that the Fourth Squadron had moved into position on the wing, it was the Daring that was catching the heat at the lynchpin of the formation, although it was getting covering fire from the Endurance and seemed to be holding out.

That had been where Spitfire had been fighting, around the Daring, to keep the grimm at bay at the corner where the lines of the Third and Fourth met. Looking down, it seemed that, even in her absence, the Daring was holding strong, protected by the other squadrons and by its own formidable array of weapons. It would still be there when the Wonderbolts returned.

"That's a big grimm, Leader," observed Silver Zoom.

"You worried, Two?" asked Spitfire.

Silver Zoom took a second to reply. "It's big for us," he said.

"It's just a big target, that's all," Spitfire reassured her wingman. She didn't mention the other reason for a fighter squadron being given this assignment, that being the difficulty of pulling a cruiser out of the line to engage the dragon. Silver Zoom didn't need to be told that they were being given this task because it was more convenient to use smaller airships.

Especially when that wasn't the main reason.

He wasn't wrong; it was a big grimm, and it was only getting larger as Spitfire waited for her squadron to form up. But big grimm, however rare they might be, were a fact of life, and just because they were big didn't make them invincible. Big though it was, the dragon didn't look very heavily armoured — it would probably struggle to get off the ground if it was — with most of its bone concentrated around one half of its face. Shots to its body, where it was a lot less well protected, would hurt it; shots to its wings would drop it to the ground.

It was not an insurmountable obstacle.

Pair by pair, the Wonderbolts — the remaining Wonderbolts, after they'd lost Lightning Streak — formed up behind Spitfire, sweeping back from her on either side like an arrowhead. One and Two Flight formed up in diamonds; Three Flight, with only three airships, formed a miniature arrowhead of their own, with Blaze in the lead and Sun Chaser and Fast Clip on his wings.

Soarin' and Misty, Wonderbolts Five and Six, were the last to arrive, forming up in front of Seven and Eight at the head of Two Flight.

"Took your time, Five," Spitfire remarked.

"It was a tough old bird, leader; it made me work for the kill," Soarin' replied.

Spitfire didn't respond; instead, she said, "Wonderbolts, move forward." She levelled off her Sky Dart as she urged the airship straight forward, opening up the throttle, not to the maximum — she'd save that for when they were actually engaging — but to a fast speed that would carry them over the heads of the grimm hordes to intercept the dragon before it entered the combat zone.

They headed out, beyond the line of Atlesian cruisers and even beyond the airships fighting beyond the Atlas line. Below them, the grimm were spread out; although this horde, over on the right, had gotten a little less frisky just before the mountain burst open and the dragon popped out. Fleetfoot had reported seeing a lone Skyray heading out over the heads of the grimm a little while ago — Spitfire had been too distracted by a teryx to notice it on her sensors — but if the General had ordered a strike force out to locate the Apex Alpha of the horde, then that would explain why the grimm on that side of the battle had suddenly started acting like a bunch of penguins.

One of the reasons to kill the dragon quickly was to make sure that it stayed that way.

"Okay, Wonderbolts," she said. "On my mark, before we get into range, the squadron will break by pairs — or by flight, Three Flight — and move around the grimm. Two Flight, break to the left; Three and Four, Nine, Eleven and Twelve, move to the right. I will engage the grimm first and draw its attention. When it's focussed on me, the rest of you will engage with lasers and missiles and destroy this thing with sustained fire."

"What about me, Leader?" asked Silver Zoom.

"You will stay in front of me at all times, Two, as we run away," Spitfire replied, prompting a round of chuckling from the pilots of the squadron. She had designated herself as the bait because it would have been a rough business to order anyone else in the squadron to expose themselves to the grimm's teeth like that, but she had no intention of having Two be between her and those same fangs. If he got eaten by the grimm, it would only be because she had been devoured first, and she had no intention of that.

"Is there anyone who doesn't have any missiles left?" Spitfire demanded.

"I've only got one left, Leader," High Winds admitted sheepishly.

"'One'?" Spitfire repeated. She wasn't entirely happy about that, but High Winds wasn't a rookie pilot that she could — or should — demand an account of what he'd been shooting at off him. She had to trust that it had been necessary at the time. Sometimes, a missile really was your best option.

Which was why she only had three of them left.

It would do, especially since she wouldn't be doing a lot of shooting if things went to plan.

Sensors showed that the Wonderbolts and the dragon were on an intercept course, and the view from the cockpit showed that the dragon was aware of them; having descended at first, it had now risen up, level with the Atlesian airships. The moonlight shone on the bone of its head and on the spurs of its shoulders as it beat its wings furiously. It accelerated in the air towards them.

"Wonderbolts, break off; be ready to engage on my command," Spitfire said.

With her eyes fixed upon the approaching dragon, Spitfire could only glance down at her sensors, which told her that the rest of her squadron was moving away from her, circling around and above the dragon.

Only Silver Zoom remained, tucked in behind her.

"Stay tight, Two," Spitfire said. "And be ready to turn and run eastwards."

"East, Leader?"

"Copy that, east," Spitfire said. "I don't want to lead this thing right towards our line; that would defeat the object. If we have to give it the runaround, then let's lead it away from the battle."

"Understood, Leader; east it is," said Silver Zoom.

The dragon turned its head and long neck to the right, starting to look up after half the Wonderbolts.

Spitfire opened fire with her laser cannon. The range was long, the first of the green beams fizzled out without quite hitting the target, and even as Spitfire got closer, they made no impact as they struck the dragon's skull. But she got the grimm's attention back, that large skull swinging back down to glare at her.

"Yeah, that's right," Spitfire muttered. "Here I am."

The dragon opened its mouth; Spitfire couldn't hear it, but she imagined that it must have been roaring at her as it surged through the night sky, enormous wings beating furiously.

It was kind of amazing it could stay airborne at all with those wings, what with the holes in them, let alone fly so fast.

The dragon raced towards her, and Spitfire soared forwards to meet it, still firing her laser cannon to make sure that she held the grimm's attention.

Silver Zoom was firing too, his laser beams passing over Spitfire's wing; both beams hit the dragon square in the head, the green energy dissipating upon impact, washing over the white bone, doing next to nothing that Spitfire could see.

As expected. Grimm armour could be tough, especially when the grimm was this big. But it wasn't armoured everywhere.

"Two, fall back," Spitfire instructed.

"Copy that, Leader, falling back now," Silver Zoom replied. Spitfire's sensors showed him turning away, heading away from the dragon but also eastwards, toward the mountains that marked the edge of Vale.

Spitfire stayed on course, flying straight at the dragon as it flew straight at her. She kept on firing her laser cannon, green bolts splashing harmlessly against the white bone.

"Leader?" Silver Zoom asked.

"Not yet," Spitfire said. "Just a little more."

The dragon was looming very large now; it was close enough to seem pretty much life-sized, its head larger than Spitfire's Sky Dart, its body the size of a cruiser, its wings immense as they spread out from side to side. Its long neck was outstretched, and it opened its mouth to swallow Spitfire whole.

Spitfire spun in place, reversing thrust on the left side to spin her airship a full one hundred and eighty degrees in the air. She reversed the direction of her thrusters again and punched it to maximum speed, the Sky Dart jumping forwards one step ahead of the dragon as its jaws closed.

A quick glance down at the sensors confirmed that the dragon — a large red blob on the scope — was following her; it wasn't getting any closer, thank gods, but it wasn't losing ground, either.

Maximum speed, and it’s managing to keep pace.

Spitfire turned, angling eastwards, following Silver Zoom. The dragon turned too, but it was turning on the inside track, so it began to gain on her, forcing Spitfire to turn away again more due north in order to keep her distance from it.

But, as another glance at her scope confirmed for her, the rest of Wonderbolt Squadron was in position, arrayed behind and around the dragon, ready to attack.

"Wonderbolts," she ordered. "Fire at will!"

"Wonderbolt Five, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Six, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Three, missile away."

"Wonderbolt Four, missiles away."

The chorus of 'missiles away' from all the members of her squadron was matched by the indicators on the scope as missiles — multiple missiles in the case of all save High Winds, who only had one missile and had now shot it — appeared on the sensors, streaking through the air towards the dragon. The grimm didn't realise, its attention fixed on Spitfire, bent on her to the exclusion of everything else.

The missiles closed in.

Spitfire risked a glance over her shoulder, angling her airship slightly to give her a view of the dragon as the Wonderbolts' missiles streaked through the night sky towards it from all directions, getting closer and closer.

The missiles struck home, not all at once but pretty close to it, explosions building upon explosions as the dragon's body was consumed in fire; the explosions wrapped around its immense torso, neck and wings and tails sticking out of the fireball as the grimm opened its mouth, neck twisting left and right.

Spitfire could imagine it howling in pain.

The dragon emerged from out of the fireball unharmed, at least visibly unharmed, none of its black flesh damaged, none of its bone cracked, looking no different than before the missiles had struck.

It was still coming after Spitfire.

Spitfire turned east again; this allowed the dragon to close in on her, a little, but the alternative was to lead it towards the Atlesian line, and that wasn't something she was willing to contemplate.

Besides, the dragon would be brought down soon.

"Keep firing," Soarin' said. "We have to be hurting it. Wonderbolt Five, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Four, switching to the heavy laser; everyone, stay clear."

"Wonderbolt Nine, switching to laser."

"Wonderbolt Twelve, missiles away."

Spitfire could see the missiles on her sensors, streaking towards the dragon before disappearing as they struck. She could see, reflected in the glass of the cockpit, the dim sheen of the lasers — the green lasers of the ordinary cannons mounted on every Sky Dart; the red beams of the larger, cruiser calibre cannons carried by Fire Streak, Fleetfoot, and Fast Clip — as they illuminated the darkness.

And in her sensors, she could see the dragon, the malevolent red blob on the scope, continuing to pursue her.

"Leader, this is Two," said Silver Zoom. "I can see something in its mouth."

"Two, can you be a little more specific?" asked Spitfire.

"It's something yellow," Silver Zoom began. "Leader, I think it's charging an attack; you need to evade, now!"

Spitfire yanked the stick hard to the left in a move that would pull her Sky Dart downwards, just as a yellow beam, thicker than the laser from a cruiser's main gun, tore through the air right past her airship.

It passed so close that, even through the visor on her helmet, Spitfire could feel the intensity of the blazing yellow. It passed so close that she could feel the searing heat through the cockpit.

It passed so close that it burned her right wing and engine block off, searing the side of the airship and leaving black scorch marks down the cockpit. Spitfire was shoved violently to her left, slamming her shoulder into the side of the cockpit as her airship rocked and bucked like a wild mustang.

Red lights flashed on Spitfire's dashboard. Alarms blared in the cockpit.

"Warning. Warning. Starboard side engine failure," said the airship's computer in a deceptively soothing voice.

Engine disappeared, more like, Spitfire thought as she fought for control. The stick wrestled with her, jinking up and down, left and right as the Sky Dart began to plummet through the air.

"Warning. Warning. Losing altitude."

"No kidding!" Spitfire snapped, as she hauled back on the stick with all her strength.

She could feel the nose of her Sky Dart trying to rise, jerking up a little to the left, but it wasn't enough; she wasn't getting the lift.

"Leader, what's your status?" Soarin' demanded.

Spitfire could see flames burning on the right side of her airship. "Going down," she said. "Repeat, going down, trying to regain altitude."

"Regain altitude so, what, the grimm can get you?" Soarin' said loudly. "You can't fight with only one engine; punch out now."

"Punch out with that thing in the sky?" Spitfire replied.

"Leader," Silver Zoom said. "It's coming around for you!"

Spitfire's sensors were a bit on the fritz as a result of the damage, the image distorted by static, but despite the rippling across the screen, the way that it blacked out and then back on, she could still make out the red blob of the dragon swinging around and coming back towards her.

Spitfire gritted her teeth, continuing to pull on the stick.

It continued to have no effect; the airship just wasn't responding.

"Warning. Warning. Losing altitude."

"Leader, this is Five; I guarantee you a safe landing, but you need to eject!" Soarin' insisted.

On her fuzzy, fritzing scope, Spitfire could see Soarin's Skydart racing towards her.

Well, if Soarin' says he's got my back.

"This is Wonderbolt Leader, ejecting now," Spitfire said, and pulled the handle beside her chair.

"Misty, hang back," Soarin' said as he gunned his Sky Dart downwards towards Spitfire's stricken airship — and towards the dragon that was bearing down on it.

"Wonderbolts, continue firing," he said. He wasn't quite ranking officer of the squadron — Spitfire wasn't technically out of the fight, although it was only a matter of time — but nobody was going to quibble with that at a time like this. They all knew that Spitfire would be fully preoccupied fighting with her damaged airship.

Come on, Captain, get out of there.

Soarin' didn't fire. He'd ordered everyone else to keep firing in case they managed to get the dragon's attention, but from where he was, heading downwards like he was, he didn't want to accidentally miss and hit Spitfire's airship by mistake.

"Warning. Waring. Altitude decreasing."

"That's the idea," Soarin' muttered, continuing to hold the stick down and keep his Sky Dart in a steep dive no matter what the computer said.

He was closing the distance. Both the dragon and Spitfire's airship were growing closer. An intact Sky Dart with all systems go was definitely faster than a damaged Skydart with one engine gone and a side on fire, and at full throttle, he was faster than the dragon too.

Just so long as Spitfire's airship was also faster than the dragon.

It was a little slow on the descent, or maybe it had slowed down. That made sense. A thing that big might be fast, but it couldn't turn easily — just to turn back on Spitfire it had to take a laborious way around — and it would be even worse pulling up from a dive. It wouldn't want to go too fast to catch Spitfire just to plough into the ground face-first afterwards because it couldn't change direction.

That was keeping Spitfire alive right now.

There was no sign of an ejection. The Sky Dart kept twitching, the nose moving just a little to the right; Soarin' could imagine Spitfire pulling on it, fighting with the controls to no avail.

It's no good; that thing's done. Sky Bolt pilots might boast endlessly about the survivability of their machine — two engines down and the body on fire and all that — but the Sky Dart was a more fragile animal; it couldn't take that kind of damage.

And even if it could, an airship that damaged would be a liability in this fight.

Soarin' was coming up alongside the dragon now; he could look out of the cockpit and see a red eye burning in its bone skull. Considering how tough even its unarmoured flesh was proving to be — Soarin' could also see laser blast slamming into its back, none of them seeming to have any effect on it whatsoever — Soarin' wasn't sure it needed any bone at all, even on its head.

It did add to its air of menace, though.

The dragon glared at him, or looked as though it was glaring at him; it was still going after Spitfire. Maybe it was just the way its eyes were placed made it look like it was looking at him.

It was gaining on Spitfire's damaged airship.

"Leader, this is Five," Soarin said. "I guarantee you a safe landing, but you need to eject!"

There was a pause.

"This is Wonderbolt Leader, ejecting now!"

Soarin' saw the canopy burst off Spitfire's airship, seconds before Spitfire herself erupted out of the cockpit, rocketing into the sky as the rockets of her chair fired. The dragon looked up.

"Oh no, you don't," Soarin' growled as he swerved his airship to the left, passing right in front of the dragon's face.

"Wonderbolt Five, defending," Soarin' declared as he slammed one fist down hard onto the flares button on the side of the cockpit.

There were no missiles in the air, nothing tracking him that might be thrown off by the array of flares that burst out from behind the airship — but they flew out right into the dragon's face, and while he wasn't expecting them to hurt it any, Soarin' thought they might get its attention.

Given the way the dragon rounded on him, turning in pursuit, Soarin' thought that he might have been right.

Soarin' was going at maximum speed; since Spitfire had been able to keep ahead of it moving that quickly, his main concern was that beam attack that had crippled Spitfire's airship. He kept his own Sky Dart moving, swerving to the left or to the right, not presenting a straight and level target for the dragon to aim at.

He switched comms to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Five; Wonderbolt Leader has been forced to eject; requesting recovery at her beacon." All airship pilots carried a transponder so they could be picked up if they were shot down.

"Copy that, Wonderbolt Five; recovery team will be dispatched shortly."

"Also," Soarin' went on, "the dragon has some kind of beam attack; it is not harmless from a distance; repeat, it is not harmless from a distance."

"Wonderbolt Five, this is General Ironwood; what kind of beam are we talking about?"

"Some kind of energy beam, I think, sir," Soarin' replied. "It's hard to be clearer."

"I see," said General Ironwood quietly. "How's it going out there?"

"We're hitting it with our best shots, but no luck yet," Soarin' admitted. "But we haven't given up yet, sir; I'm about to try something new. If you'll excuse me, sir."

"Of course."

"Thank you, sir; Wonderbolt Five out," Soarin' said, switching back to the squadron channel. "Two, stay with Leader. Make sure she lands okay, set down, wait with her until recovery arrives."

"You want me to land, Five?" Silver Zoom asked incredulously.

"I don't—"

"Move, Soarin'; it's charging up!" Misty shouted.

Soarin rose, the Sky Dart bursting up into the air as the dragon's energy attack passed by underneath it. It was bright, but it didn't actually touch his airship; there were no reports of damage, no alarms.

But Soarin' let out a breath afterwards. He took a breath, to get it back. "Thanks, Six," he said. "Two, I don't want Spitfire to be waiting alone in the dark in grimm country with only a pistol for company until the lifeboat shows up. Do you have your DMR in the cockpit?"

"Yeah, I do," Silver Zoom said. Being Specialists as well as pilots, each member of the Wonderbolts had a custom weapon, but the risks of it getting destroyed if your Sky Dart went down meant that most members of the squadrons took only basic guns with them for company in the cockpit, just in case.

"Then that's why I want you on the ground with Leader," he said. "Do it."

"Understood, Five; descending now," Silver Zoom said.

Soarin' nodded. The dragon was still coming after him, rising up after his airship much faster than it had followed Spitfire on the descent. But the Sky Dart was not only faster but more manoeuvrable, and when Soarin' rolled to come down behind the dragon, the much bigger grimm didn't have much recourse — except to flick its tail Soarin' way, the three claws at the end of it reaching out for his airship like fingers on a hand. Soarin' rolled away but felt the Sky Dart bump as at least one claw scraped along the undercarriage.

It didn't seem to have damaged any systems.

"Wonderbolts," Soarin' said, "hitting the body doesn't seem to be doing anything, so we'll try hitting the wings, see if we can knock it out of the sky."

He glanced at his scope. The dragon was moving away from him.

In the direction of the battle.

"It's ignoring us," Soarin' said. "It's going for the cruisers. We need to bring it down now."

He turned his Sky Dart after the dragon as the Wonderbolts raced in pursuit of the grimm.

Is it leaving because it can't catch us or because it has better things to do? Soarin' asked himself. Since when do grimm turn their back on prey?

Since when has anything tonight been normal?

Laser fire lanced out from the Atlesian Sky Darts, flying past the dragon as they missed the thin, constantly moving wings.

Sun Chaser closed in, Fast Clip not far behind him.

"Eleven, Twelve, watch its tail; you're too close," Soarin' warned.

"If I can get close enough, I can shred its wings with my machine guns," Sun Chaser insisted.

"I know what you're planning, but that tail is dangerous," Soarin' said. "Fall back, now."

Sun Chaser ignored him, in a way that he never would have ignored Spitfire — that was the problem with being only a full lieutenant instead of a captain — he and his wingman pressing onwards. Sun Chaser passed the tip of the dragon's tail to get closer to the beating wings.

"Nine," Soarin' snapped. "Get your people under control before they—"

The words were ripped out of his throat as the dragon's tail lashed out, slamming into Fast Clip's Sky Dart hard enough to send it pinwheeling through the night sky, turning round and round in circles, nose over tail.

Sun Chaser belatedly tried to move away, rolling to the left and away from the dragon. It was too late. The three claws of the tail wrapped around his Skyray. Soarin' fired, and he wasn't the only one; laser blasts from the remaining Sky Darts struck the tail repeatedly, but none of them did anything. None of them stopped the tail from crushing Sun Chaser's Sky Dart in its grip.

The airship exploded, a burst of flame enveloping the claws at the end of the tail. Sun Chaser survived the blast, his aura protecting him from it, but leaving him falling through the darkness — until the tail caught him.

The moonlight showed him struggling in the grimm's grip, trying and failing to break free.

The Wonderbolts kept firing, hitting the tail over and over again in the hope that it would force the dragon to drop Sun Chaser. It didn't. The dragon's tail moved, flicking Sun Chaser upwards and forwards, his arms and legs failing as he was hurled over the dragon's body, over its head—

Its head which rose up on its long neck and closed its jaws around him.

Sun Chaser disappeared as the dragon lowered its head once more.

There was a moment of silence amongst the Wonderbolts, broken by a howl of rage from Blaze as she charged, there was no other word it; she must have been holding down the boost with one hand because she was moving consistently faster than the Sky Dart was meant to, machine guns and twenty-millimetres blazing away, the tracer rounds lighting up the night as they blew past the dragon's wings.

Blaze was moving quickly enough that she managed to avoid the dragon's tail, rising over it as it tried to swipe her, staying ahead of it as it reached for him. Blaze dived, getting down underneath the dragon's wings, then pointing her nose upwards so that she could fire straight up into its left wing.

Bullets from the nose and wings of the airship shot up, piercing the red membrane between the dragon's … fingers, for want of a better word.

"Yeah!" Misty shouted. "Get it, Blaze!"

The dragon rolled, and for a second, Soarin' thought — or hoped — that the holes Blaze was tearing in its wings were making it hard to stay airborne. But it wasn't; it was just the dragon rolling so that it could more easily reach for Blaze with its jaws, mouth open to swallow the Sky Dart whole.

Blaze shot up, past the open jaws, only to be hit by the black strut of the dragon's wing as the grimm rolled again, wing dropping, striking the Sky Dart squarely on the nose. The airship crumpled from the nose down, the upward thrust of the engines fighting against the downward force of the huge grimm, before exploding in a fireball that was soon extinguished.

There was no sign of Blaze; certainly no sign of a parachute. The dragon hadn't eaten her like it had swallowed Sun Chaser, it didn't even seem interested, it turned away immediately. But there was no sign of her.

"Nine?" Soarin' said. "Nine, do you copy? Twelve? Twelve, please respond."

There was a crackling on the line. "I can't control it. Ejecting now!"

"Understood, Twelve," Soarin' said, relief in his voice. Only two dead instead of three. I'm doing a great job, aren't I, Spitfire?

He switched to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Five; we have another pilot ejecting, requesting recovery. We have also lost two pilots dead or missing, and our weapons are having no visible effect on the grimm. Request permission to break off the attack."

He didn't know if Spitfire would have made that request. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't, but the Wonderbolts had now been reduced to six pilots, seven if you counted Silver Zoom, and that was before he sent anyone to find Fast Clip, which he probably should, considering that he'd sent Silver Zoom to keep an eye on Spitfire until the rescue wagon showed up.

But that had been easier when there were still ten of them.

Regardless of whether he actually gave that order or not, the fact remained that there had been eleven Wonderbolts when the fight against the dragon began, and there were now just six of them in the air. And in that time, their best shots hadn't even slowed it down. The dragon was ignoring them now, continuing on towards the Atlesian line, smug in its invulnerability, while the remaining Wonderbolts kept their distance, firing at it from range with lasers that did nothing to either its body or its wings.

Puncturing the wings hadn't dented its ability to fly at all — perhaps the fact that there were already holes there should have been a clue — while laser fire just washed off the skull, and the grimm's body seemed to just absorb damage.

There was nothing they could do. Therefore, in his opinion as ranking officer, continuing to press the assault would only result in the pointless deaths of more Wonderbolts.

But would General Ironwood agree with him?

General Ironwood's voice came over the comm; it sounded heavy, weighed down. "Understood, Wonderbolt Five; we'll get your other pilot out. And your request is granted. Fall back."

Soarin' tried to hold in his sigh of relief. "Understood sir. Thank you, sir. Retreating now. Wonderbolt Five out." He switched back to the squadron channel. "Six, see if you can track Twelve, stay with him until recovery arrives. All other Wonderbolts, follow me; we're breaking contact. We'll head west towards Vale then turn north and return to the Atlesian line from behind."

He just hoped … well, there were a few things that he hoped, including that Spitfire and Fast Clip were both picked up in one piece, but he also hoped that, the Wonderbolts having … having failed — and wasn't that a wonderful thing to admit? — but they had, they'd failed; the dragon had been too much for them.

Which was why Soarin' hoped that General Ironwood had something stronger up his sleeve, for the sake of their entire force.

And for the sake of Vale too.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: A complete rewrite would have been necessitated in any case by the fact the Wonderbolts are flying different airships than they were in the original, and also because the battle takes place not over the streets of Vale, but beyond the main battle line. I think possibly fewer Wonderbolts are killed her than were originally, but the end result is very much the same.

Carry to Safety (New)

Carry to Safety

Rainbow started to unbuckle herself from her seat even before she had finished landing the Skyray. The door on one side of the airship had started to open already too, and Blake and Ciel leapt out without waiting for Rainbow Dash.

Which was charming, but understandable in the circumstances.

Rainbow had scarcely set the Skyray down — a little more heavily than she would have ordinarily liked, but she was in a rush — then she was up, out of the chair and heading for the exit herself.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Midnight cried before the android body of the autopilot slumped forwards, the light of its face plate disappearing.

Rainbow stopped for a second.

"Okay," Midnight said, her voice now coming once more from Rainbow's scroll. "You can go now."

Rainbow went, following Blake and Ciel out the door and quickly catching up with them as they headed down the light-strewn corridor towards the front line.

The Spider droids that had been silently waiting when they had first arrived here were now firing. Guns roared, and missiles burst in waves from out of the square launchers. Empty carousels were replenished with shells, while cranes hauled missile pods up to refill the spent launchers so they could fire again.

The sound of the guns drowned out every other sound on the battlefield, even the missiles, even the grimm on the other side of the line that the grimm were firing at. At least it did when they were this close to them.

But while the guns muffled sound, they didn't blind the huntresses. The flashes of the muzzles, or the fiery trails of the missiles, couldn't hide the sight of that dragon as it flew across the night sky, coming closer and closer.

Blake said something to her. Rainbow could see her mouth moving, but thanks to the gunfire, she couldn't hear what it was Blake was trying to say. She could kind of make out little bits of sound, but not actual words, nothing that meant anything.

"What?" Rainbow shouted.

Blake made a face which suggested she couldn't hear Rainbow either.

"I—" Rainbow began, before realising there was no point.

She shook her head, then waited until they had moved on, further down the way. They were walking not just towards an Atlesian line but behind one too: the colours, borne by a pair of android Knights, proclaimed them to be the Third Battalion; their battalion standard had a white polar bear upon a sky blue field with the III emblazoned on it.

Some of the soldiers of the Third were shooting, but it was sporadic, limited, not spread out across the whole line. That looked like it was because the grimm weren't attacking everywhere across the whole line; in fact, they barely seemed to be attacking anywhere at all; it was only the odd grimm that even showed itself to the guns of the Third.

Rainbow couldn't help but think that they'd had something to do with that. They and their Beacon friends, they'd killed the Apex Alpha and, in so doing, disrupted the horde on this side of the battlefield, taking the pressure off the Third and the Beacon and Haven students.

It was that side of the battlefield the dragon was coming in from.

But it would die before it got that far, it would be taken out — somehow.

As they had put a little distance between them and the Spider droid artillery, Rainbow turned back to Blake and said, "You were trying to say something before?"

Blake nodded. "I said that that thing is still coming."

"Yeah," Rainbow admitted. "Yeah, it is, but not for long now. It's like the General said: it's just a grimm, and we take out grimm all the time."

"Not a grimm like that," murmured Blake.

"But still just a grimm!" Rainbow insisted. "Have some faith. Our ships, our weapons, they'll get it done. I mean, they've held up so far, right?"

Blake hesitated, before nodding her head vigorously. "Right," she said.

They continued to move towards the line of the Fourth Battalion, passing down the line of the Third as they went. They passed the aid station, which had been empty when they had first come this way but wasn't empty now as medics worked to stabilise the wounded ready for evacuation; they passed Colonel Harper's command post, empty now except for the two Knights with the colours of the Battalion fixed to their backs; and they passed the mortars, firing away over the heads of the troops, just like the artillery, except a whole lot quieter.

As they approached the front, and the corner at which the lines of the Fourth and Third met, Rainbow could see Team TTSS standing amongst the soldiers of the Third; it was easy to spot Trixie by her distinctive hat and cape, both of them sparkling as the moonlight shone upon her moon and stars; Sunburst didn't have a hat, but his cape wasn't that hard to pick out amongst the soldiers either, even if Starlight was hard to make out, being dressed pretty much the same way as the troops around her. Maud was with them too, in her muted sweater, and so was—

"Sun?" Blake gasped.

Sun — Sun? Sun? Really? — turned their way, or Blake's way at least, and got a big grin on his face as he saw her.

"Blake!" he shouted, bounding across the distance between them. "Did you just get back? When I got here, Starlight told me that you'd just left, so, you know, I chilled out with them for a little bit until you showed up again."

"That— yeah, yeah, we just go back," Blake said. "But what are you doing here? I thought Team Sun was heading out to the Mistralian position."

"Yeah, we did," Sun replied. "But then I found out that the commander was going to leave you guys hanging and not even try to retake the line up here so that she could ambush the grimm, and I guess it makes sense why she would do that, but it didn't sit right with me, just letting the grimm get behind you, so I ditched my team—"

"Again," Ciel remarked.

Sun ignored her and continued on, "And I came over here to find you, see if maybe I could help you out a little bit. Only I was a bit late. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," Blake assured him. "The fact that you're here—"

"When you say that you came over here," Rainbow interrupted him, "what do you mean, exactly?"

Sun shrugged. "I left the Mistralians, and I came to you, what else?"

"Yeah, but how?" Rainbow asked, for clarity. "Did you go back, or—?"

Sun shook his head. "No, I just came straight here."

Rainbow blinked. "Straight … straight from the Mistralians? To here?"

Sun frowned. "Yeah. Is there something that you're not getting? Am I not saying it—?"

"Sun, did you come through the grimm?" Blake demanded.

Sun chuckled. "I mean, they were kinda getting in my way a little bit eventu—"

"Sun!" Blake cried. "You could have been killed! You could have been ripped to pieces! You could have been blown up by Atlesian missiles! Why would you take such an enormous risk like that?"

Sun wilted in the face of her anger. His voice went quiet, and pitiful, as he said, "To get to you."

Blake stood there, silent, mouth open but not speaking; probably because Sun had snatched the words and crumpled them up into a paper ball to throw in the bin. Or at least, he'd made it very hard for Blake to say whatever it was that she'd been planning to say next.

Her pale cheeks began to redden.

"You remain, as you always have been," Ciel declared, "an irresponsible, heedless, reckless young man, thoughtless in every sense of the word. And I dare say you will never change." She paused. "But I must admit that you have a good and valiant heart, and I suppose it is better to be of little brain and a good heart than to be of a hard heart, still less than a rotten one."

Sun grinned. "That's me: a good heart and a little— wait, did you just call me stupid?"

"I think you did that to yourself," Rainbow muttered. She patted him on one muscular arm as a smile spread across her face. "Pretty awesome job, all the same."

"Don't encourage this," Blake said, in a low growl that didn't match up with the colour in her cheeks. "Sun, at some point, you and I are going to have to talk about—"

The dragon roared, and though the grimm remained far off — albeit getting nearer, and bigger, with every passing beat of its wings — all the same, the sound of its roar split the night air, drowning out the roaring and the snarling of all the smaller grimm beneath that pressed against the Atlesian line. The sound of the roar swept over the battlefield like a mighty wind and tore the words away from Blake's mouth like stray papers picked up and scattered across town.

"But maybe not right now," Blake added.

They began to move once more, Sun joining them, falling in beside Blake, on the other side of her from Rainbow Dash. Together, they climbed up the metal steps driven into the dirt until they stood on the palisade, looking out at the grimm horde and the battle in front of them.

The grimm had fallen back; not too far, not enough to be out of range — that was why there was still so much shooting going on, both from the artillery and from the rifles up on the ramparts and the walls — but they had retreated; instead of pressing against the Atlesian line, they had scuttled back over the ditches the Atlesians had dug and which the grimm had filled up with still-living grimm. Rainbow found it hard to believe that they were still alive in there, that they weren't killing the ones being crushed underneath and constantly needing new grimm to top up the numbers as the grimm at the bottom turned to ashes. Or maybe they were topping the numbers up, replacing the casualties from shells and missiles that landed on them, and Rainbow had been too preoccupied with the ones getting past the ditch to attack their line to notice. Either way, the grimm that were filling up the ditch were still alive; every so often, she could see one of them twitching their legs or shaking a paw, and they were mostly escaping getting shot at because the grimm climbing over them to cross the ditch were more dangerous, and so, the priority targets.

But those grimm had fallen back right now, back across to the other side of the ditch, where they waited. They were still taking fire while they waited, shells and missiles exploding in amongst their black mass, bullets flaying them from the Atlesian line, but they stood off all the same, enduring the fire, absorbing it. It didn't hurt that these were often pretty big grimm — their front rank consisted of goliaths, and even the beowolves immediately behind were large and mature-looking — and so, they could take the fire without dropping dead from it, and only the artillery or the guns on the Paladins seemed able to really hurt them.

And so they waited. It didn't take a genius to work out what they were waiting for.

"Nice of you to rejoin us, Cadets Dash and Soleil," Colonel Harper said as she strode along the line towards them from the extreme flank of her battalion. She gave Blake a courteous nod. "Belladonna."

"Colonel," Blake said. "We were ordered—"

"Oh, I've no doubt that you were absent on duty," Colonel Harper said, smiling. "Don't worry, I wasn't accusing you of desertion. You'd hardly return, if you were. I trust that whatever your orders, you completed them successfully?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rainbow said at once.

"Then that's all I need to hear," Colonel Harper said. "Even if it is a pity that you couldn't take care of that thing while you were away." She glanced in the direction of the approaching dragon. "Does it trouble you, children?"

"No, ma'am," Rainbow said at once.

"A … little, ma'am," Blake admitted.

Colonel Harper looked at Blake. "A little?" she asked.

Blake hesitated, before she said, "Yes, ma'am. It's … very big."

Colonel Harper chuckled. "Yes, Belladonna, that certainly seems to be the case, doesn't it? And because of its size, because of its strength, because of its eruption upon us, I don't begrudge you a little apprehension." She patted Blake on the shoulder, and her voice rose louder. "But take heart. Every advantage that grimm possesses contains the seed of its undoing. It is large; therefore, it presents a bigger target, and it cannot manoeuvre nimbly. It is powerful, but it is alone, as such titans always are. It comes upon the battlefield suddenly, but that means that it was no part of the grimm plan for this battle, such as existed. Whether in the air or on the ground, we will dance around that sluggish behemoth, bombarding it with fire that cannot fail to find the mark, burying it with bullet and shell casings if we must, while it is unsupported by any grimm, none accompanying it to this fight, none knowing what to do about its presence here. Whether in the air or on the ground, we will teach this creature to fear the might of Atlas — for a few moments, before oblivion consumes it." She looked about to walk past Blake, when suddenly, she noticed Sun. She spoke a bit more quietly than she had done just a second ago. "It's Sun Wukong, isn't it? Of Haven Academy."

"That's right," Sun said. "Um, ma'am."

"I thought the Haven students were somewhere over to the right," Colonel Harper observed.

"I…" Sun started, and then stopped. He stepped behind Blake as though he was trying to hide behind her. "I thought that maybe you could use a hand."

Colonel Harper's gaze flickered between Sun and Blake. "I see," she observed. "Well, you've come to the right place, lover boy; we've certainly no shortage of targets." She raised her voice again as she strode past Blake and the others and down the line, saying, "Keep pouring it into them! Since they're so good as to provide us with a static target, let's not let their benevolence go to waste. Keep firing, don't aim for the goliaths, aim for the smaller grimm behind."

"I do believe," Ciel said softly as Colonel Harper walked away from them, "that you have just played your part in a piece of theatre, Blake."

Blake blinked. "You mean … that she was speaking to the whole unit, not just to me?"

"Precisely," Ciel said, as she raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder. Instead of aiming at the grimm in front of her, she turned, swinging the long barrel of her rifle down the line so that it extended past Rainbow Dash like a rail.

She fired, her large rifle roaring. A goliath jerked, its head twitching before it collapsed to the ground.

"She just said not to aim at the goliaths," Blake pointed out.

"Because so many of our small arms cannot harm them," Ciel replied as she ejected the spent casing to land at her feet with a thud. "Not an issue that affects me."

"Hey! Look who's come crawling back!" Neon said, as she appeared next to Ciel in a rainbow-coloured blur. "Nice of you to show up. You know, not that you were missed or anything."

She fired a couple of shots from her pistol at the grimm; Rainbow didn't see anything drop, but there were so many grimm, and they all blurred together so she might just not have spotted it.

"Soooo," Neon said. "Where did you go?"

A smile flickered across Ciel's face. "If I told you, you would think I was bragging."

"You do realise that acting like that also seems like bragging, right?" asked Neon.

"General Ironwood ordered us to kill the Apex Alpha of the horde on the other flank," Rainbow said.

Neon paused for a moment. "Yeah, Ciel was right, that did sound very braggy. Bunch of show-offs." She fired another shot from her borrowed pistol. "Did you do it?"

"Did we do it?" Rainbow repeated. "Yes, we did it, of course we did it."

"Woah, awesome!" Sun exclaimed. "That's your second one, right Blake?"

"'Second'?!" Neon exclaimed.

"I wouldn't say the first one counts," Blake said.

Again, the dragon roared, and as the dragon was closer, its roar was louder, sweeping across Remnant, drowning out the Atlesian rifle fire, drowning out the grimm, snatching away anything that Blake might have said about why the first Apex Alpha didn't count.

Their eyes were drawn upwards, to where the dragon was flying steadily towards their line with the inevitability of an avalanche rolling down the mountain.

"I … I don't suppose you feel like taking that one out as well, huh, Blake?" Neon asked.

"It'll go down," Rainbow insisted. "Our airships will bring it down, you'll see."

The dragon approached, getting larger and larger in their eyes, and as it approached, the Atlesian cruisers moved out to meet it. The ships of the Third Squadron, formed up in a line above their infantry, began to advance, wheeling to the left to present a line which, when it was completed and all four cruisers moved into position, would face the dragon head on. At the same time, the Fourth Squadron's Vigilant and Courageous also moved out, their point defence systems blazing in all directions around them as they pushed on through the flying grimm as if they were clouds. The Atlesian fighters seemed to redouble their efforts to keep the grimm at bay, driving them off the warships as the two cruisers swung to the right, positioning themselves to also face the dragon, angled inwards a little to achieve a shallow crossfire with the Third Squadron. Rainbow looked to the left, half-expecting to see a ship from First Squadron moving in to support, but she didn't.

But still, six cruisers: Vigilant, Courageous…

"Ciel," Rainbow asked. "What are the ships of the Third Squadron?"

"Daring, Endurance, Reliant, and Ardent are the cruisers," Ciel replied.

Rainbow nodded. "Thanks."

Six cruisers then: Vigilant, Courageous, Daring, Endurance, Reliant, and Ardent. Six ships, six symbols of Atlesian might and power and prowess in war and technology. Six Atlesian airships, six cruisers, six lords of the sky, six daughters of Atlas.

Six cruisers. More than enough to get the job done, no matter how big this grimm was, no matter how loudly it roared, no matter how much it gaped its mouth and showed its teeth, there was no way it was going to get past six Atlesian cruisers. Just looking at them, sleek and sharp with beautiful lines sweeping backwards, as lovely as any dress that Rarity had ever designed or sewed, made Rainbow's heart swell.

People said that the carriers were the pride of Atlas, and they were bigger, sure, but no; no, these cruisers, they were the real pride of Atlas and its military. The pride of Atlas and the guardian angels of the infantry, always watching over them.

Yeah, that grimm was gonna get it now. It had no idea what was coming.

"Is there any way of telling those ships apart?" asked Blake.

Ciel was silent for half a moment before she answered, "Do you see the ship on the far left of the line has a red stripe running down its underbelly? That is the Vigilant."

Blake asked, "Why does it have a red stripe?"

"Because it is commanded by Major Horatia Rouge, and it is a vanity of hers," Ciel explained. "Which means that the ship immediately to its right must be the Courageous of the Fourth Squadron." She paused, turning her attention to the Third Squadron ships on the right flank. "The Endurance, in the centre next to the Courageous, has the laurel wreath markings; they commemorate a successful visit to Mistral two years ago; she participated in and won the Ithome Run, a famous airship race in that kingdom." Again, she paused and must have been wracking her mind. There were subtle differences in the remaining three ships — Daring, Reliant, and Ardent — one of them still had its long range dust tanks attached to the engines, one of them had a slightly longer bow that sharpened to a point like a spear; Rainbow just couldn't use that to tell them apart.

"The Ardent is being used as a test bed for a ram as an offensive weapon," Ciel said. "One we may see some use tonight. I believe it is the Reliant that has not disposed of those dust tanks mounted to the engines; they are used by patrolling vessels that may not see a tanker in some time. Which means the last ship must be the Daring, with nothing outwardly remarkable about it."

Before anyone could say anything else, before they could speak a word, all six cruisers — the Vigilant with her red stripe, Reliant with her long-range tanks, Endurance with her Mistralian racing wreaths, Ardent with her ramming prow, Courageous and Daring whose only glories were that they were Atlesian warships made of northern steel — opened fire upon the fast approaching grimm.

Each cruiser mounted four heavy laser cannons beneath the bow, four red beans from each ship lancing out through the darkness. Not every single beam hit the target — two beams from Vigilant soared over the dragon's back, and all the beams from Daring passed beneath its neck — but most of the red lasers struck home, slamming into the black body of the grimm from all directions.

The dragon roared, but its roar seemed less angry now and more pained, hurt by the number and intensity of the blows being rained down on it.

Rainbow grinned.

"Yeah, that's it," Neon purred. "Scream. Scream for all the good it does you, you—"

“Language,” Ciel reproached her, before she’d even said anything.

The cruisers kept firing; those that had missed found their target, while some beams that had hit before missed as the dragon writhed and twisted in the air. Missiles spat from the flanks of every cruiser in swarms, streaking through the night towards their target.

The grimm kept on roaring. Its mouth was gaping wide open.

And there was a yellow glow coming from it.

"What is—?" Blake began.

A beam of its own erupted out of the dragon's mouth, a yellow beam as thick as … really thick and really bright, a beam of something that poured out of the dragon's mouth as it turned its head from left to right, sweeping its beam across the sky.

Missiles caught in the beam were consumed, disappearing in little puffs of fire.

Rainbow was astonished, staring with eyes wide up at the power that the dragon was putting out there, but the officers commanding the cruisers must have seen this coming because as soon as the dragon fired, the Atlesian ships began to rise higher.

The Vigilant, with its distinctive red stripes, managed to gain sufficient altitude that the beam swept harmlessly beneath it, not even scorching the paintwork, even while the Vigilant continued to target the dragon with its underslung cannons.

The Courageous wasn't so lucky; whether the systems were slow to respond or the CO was slow in giving the order, the Courageous didn't get high enough fast enough, and the beam of yellow energy — or whatever — swept across the underbelly of the ship.

They could see the explosions from the ground. The Courageous wasn't destroyed, but it was eviscerated: its lasers were gone, its lower engines were gone, the entire bottom of the ship had been ripped away; Rainbow and the others could look up into the ship from below. What remained of the vessel was blackened by the explosion, burning in places, and falling slowly down towards the ground.

It was only one ship; all the ships of the Third Squadron had, like Vigilant, gotten altitude in time to escape the blast, the yellow beam passing underneath them, but that didn't stop the dragon from roaring in what now sounded a lot like triumph. The grimm surged forward, wings beating furiously, neck and tail and even the big body twisting to avoid the beams from the remaining warships.

As the dragon came closer, the cruisers began to move, sliding sideways and backwards, opening up distance as well as positioning themselves on the flanks of the dragon instead of in front of it.

The dragon dived, looking for a second like it was heading down towards the ground, but no, it wasn't going that far. It only dived beneath the falling Courageous, using the remains of the ship to shield itself from Atlesian fire, and as it descended, it lashed out with its tail, plunging its claws into the bow of Courageous.

The dragon rose, tail bent backwards, back meeting the burned and damaged hull of the cruiser. For a couple of seconds, the dragon looked like it was straining, wings beating hard, a low growl coming out of its mouth, before it managed to not only push the Courageous back upwards but to move it by the grip of its tail-claws. The dragon's tail rose straight up like a cat, and at the end of its tail, it held the Courageous like a weapon in the hands of a huntress.

"Are … are there still people in there?" Sun asked, his voice shaking.

The question was answered by two sets of objects firing from the stricken Courageous. One was escape pods, metallic tubes with enough room for a dozen people in each one, rocketing out from the sides of the ship in both directions, narrowly avoiding the Atlesian ships around them. The nevermores and the griffons tried to close in on the pods, drawn by the emotions of the people inside, but the Atlesian fighters came to their defence, fighting in close around the escape pods even as the pod pilots tried to angle their vessels — not an easy task; they weren't designed to do much more than fall safely — towards the Atlesian lines.

The other set of objects were missiles, streaking out from the battered flanks of the Courageous to slam into the dragon's back. Explosions rippled up and down the black skin of the grimm, but it took no notice, it didn't even cry out in pain, it certainly didn't relinquish its grip on the stricken cruiser.

"Come on, what are you doing?" Rainbow growled. "Abandon ship with everyone else."

"They're being brave," Blake murmured. "As courageous as the ship itself."

"A kind of courage," Rainbow muttered.

The commanding officer had done the right thing ordering most of the surviving hands to abandon ship; they ought to have followed the order themselves with whoever was left aboard with them. This kind of 'fight her till she sinks' stuff would play well on the news, but come daybreak, Atlas would be down some experienced officers, and for what? The dragon didn't seem to feel it.

"May the Lady reward their valour," Ciel whispered. "And plead for them by God's throne."

Rainbow's brow furrowed.

The dragon roared, swinging its tail — how strong was that thing? — and the Courageous with it, wielding the ship like a mace aimed at the Vigilant.

The Vigilant danced away — Major Rouge was proving she deserved to put those stripes on her ship — slipping and sliding through the air, howitzers blazing as one-oh-five shells spat from amidships to hit the dragon square in the side. The dragon howled again, irritated maybe, hurt they dared to hope, while Rainbow and the others below could see the Courageous starting to come apart under the strain of being used like this. The hull was buckling; the whole ship was starting to bend in places.

The dragon turned, twisting in the air, firing its energy breath towards the Vigilant even as it swung the Courageous towards the Daring on its other side. The Vigilant kept moving, avoiding the deadly yellow beam just as it had avoided the Courageous.

"That's a lucky ship," Neon said as the Vigilant skated sideways, letting the dragon's breath fly upwards past the ship's flank, not even scorching the paintwork. And all the while, she kept on firing at the dragon, with every weapon that would hit it — but not hit the Courageous.

"No," Ciel said. "That is a well-handled ship."

The Daring was not so fortunate; the dragon raised the buckling hull of the Courageous over its deck and brought it down hard upon the Daring like a hammer. Rainbow and the others could hear the crack that echoed down to them; they could hear the groan of metal as clearly as they could see the nose of the Daring being forced downwards the ground.

The Daring tried to back off, unable to fire its lasers that were now angled beneath the dragon. The dragon didn't let up; it raised the Courageous and brought it down again upon the Daring. There was another, even larger crack, and shards of metal flew from the hull of the Courageous to fall down on the ground beneath — soldiers took cover from it — while the bow of the Daring sagged forwards; Rainbow couldn't see a fracture on the bow, but that sudden sag of half the ship certainly suggested there had been one.

The Vigilant and Endurance both brought their lasers to bear on the dragon, trying to distract it from the Daring, while Reliant worked its way around Endurance to try and find a firing angle. The dragon bore their fire, though it had seemed to hurt it earlier, now it endured it, drawing back the Courageous for another swing at Daring.

Ardent charged in. The ship with the long lance on its prow fired its lasers as it came on, but that mattered less than the way that it sailed forward, full speed, slamming into the flank of the dragon and driving its ram deep into the grimm’s black flesh.

A cheer rang out from the Atlesian line, the soldiers of the Fourth and Third shouting to the moon to will the brave ship on. Rainbow cheered as well, and Blake clasped her hands together; even Ciel smiled in glee as the dragon was knocked sideways, driven through by the relentless force of the Ardent's assault.

"That's it!" Neon shouted. "Stick it to it!"

The dragon howled, its body writhing on the stick as the Ardent pushed it on. Its tail bent, still gripping the Courageous in its claws — until it flicked the ship away, throwing it towards the Endurance.

The Endurance accelerated, showing the speed that had won it that Mistralian race as it shot forwards, and a bit downwards, letting the Courageous fly over it, showering fragments of metal from its crumbling frame down on the other cruiser before landing with a crash and an almighty explosion somewhere on the right of the battlefield.

The Ardent kept firing, as all the Atlesian ships that could bring their cannons to bear kept firing, but the Ardent also slowed, and Rainbow thought — or guessed — that she had put her engines into reverse to extricate herself out of the dragon.

The dragon was having none of it. Its body turned, twisted, shifted around the spike in its side until it could dig its immense claws — and the claws on its tail too — into the Ardent, puncturing the armour plating, holding her fast.

The dragon laid its long neck down upon the top deck, its head so close to the bridge that the dragon must have been able to see the crew within.

The dragon roared straight at the bridge, black globs of grimm goo flying from its mouth.

Then it unleashed its breath.

The back half of the Ardent was gone in an instant; the yellow beam of the dragon's attack was so bright that the Atlesian cruiser disappeared — and then, when the lighting of the beam faded, it was still nowhere to be seen. The dragon's breath had consumed it, bridge and engines and all, leaving only the narrow front half of the cruiser left, buried in the dragon by the spiked prow.

The dragon grunted with effort as it bent legs and tail to the task of extricating the forward half of the Ardent out of itself. Its tail did most of the work — it was the most manoeuvrable of its limbs — and it slowly but surely wrenched the forward half of the cruiser out of its black flesh.

The dragon stared down at the remains of the Ardent before flinging it away, not even throwing it at anything, just throwing it, getting rid of it like junk for the trashcan.

The dragon spread its wings out on either side as it let out an almighty roar, louder than any roar that it had made before, when it hadn't exactly been quiet. It was a roar that split the sky, a roar that made the ground shake.

A roar that made Rainbow's knees tremble.

She had told Blake that the dragon would be taken down. She had told her — she had believed — that Atlesian airpower, their military might and technological prowess, would triumph.

She had told Blake, and she had believed, that no matter how strong this grimm might be, Atlas would come out on top.

And now…

Now, two cruisers had been lost, a third was heavily damaged, and although the dragon had been wounded, that wound didn't seem to be slowing it down at all. What chance the rapidly diminishing number of cruisers would finish it off before they were wiped out?

Rainbow's breathing sounded heavy in her own ears. She glanced sideways and saw the soldiers around them with their eyes turned upwards, saw Blake and Neon, Sun and Ciel, all staring at the battle in the skies. Blake's mouth hung open; Sun's tail hung limp; Ciel's mouth was moving as she spoke under her breath, perhaps a prayer; Neon's knuckles were white. The soldiers looked, as Rainbow felt, nervous, uncertain; their guardian angels were being torn to pieces before their very eyes; how else were they supposed to feel?

The words of Colonel Harper rang hollowly in Rainbow's ears, and the Colonel offered no new words to replace them, nothing to chase away the shock felt by the huntresses or by the soldiers of the Fourth and Third.

The troops were silent; the grimm were silent too, their own faces turned upwards to watch the battle just as the Atlesians watched.

Even the sounds of the guns from behind, as the Spider droids continued to pound away, seemed lesser now, muffled, dimmed by the sheer presence of the dragon up in the sky.

The Daring tried to limp away; its back was broken, the bow listing alarmingly; it was a minor miracle — or a testament to the ship's engineering — that she was holding together at all and hadn't split in two already. Either way, she had no further part to play in this fight — unless the dragon wanted to notch up another kill.

Certainly, its gaze was turned upon the wounded Daring as she moved slowly — achingly slowly — back towards Vale, showing her engines to the dragon as she went.

The Reliant and Endurance closed ranks between the Daring and the dragon. They didn't fire but held their ground before the monstrous grimm, as if to say that if it wanted her, then it would have to get through them first.

After what she had seen, Rainbow feared that would be all too easy.

"'Play up, play up, and play the game,'" Ciel whispered.

The dragon laughed. Rather than roar or bellow or shriek, it laughed, a sound somehow harder on the ears than any louder noise it could have made, a harsh sound like a saw blade running back and forth against wood.

What was it laughing at? At the idea that Reliant and Endurance could stop it? At the folly of their even trying? Or was it laughing at Atlas, at their pride, at their superiority, at the fact that they had thought they could stand against a grimm of such ferocious might?

The dragon laughed, and suddenly, all the grimm were laughing too, laughing in front of the line where they waited, laughing on the flank where they began to creep back out of the darkness towards the Third's position, all of them laughing at the Atlesians who thought the battle had been turning their way.

Laughing at Rainbow Dash, who had believed it.

The dragon laughed, and then that harsh sawing laugh abruptly stopped, replaced with a high pitched keening shriek that made Rainbow and many others cry out in pain, that made her horse ears wilt into her hair — Blake's cat ears did the same — and made Rainbow want to cover her human ears with both hands. A shriek that made men and women drop their weapons and fall to their knees.

A shriek that carried within it all the sounds of the fall of Atlas and the death of her friends.

She could see … Rainbow could see the city plunging from the sky, hear the cries of the people dwelling in the city as it fell, and in the crying, she could make out those she knew: Rarity, Pinkie, Twilight.

She could see it, hear it, both so clearly, as clear as if it was happening right now, and all contained within the shrieking of the dragon.

The dragon stopped shrieking. The fall of Atlas immediately loomed less clear in Rainbow's mind — it was no longer right before her eyes — but it lingered just behind them, hiding in the shadows of her mind with hands outstretched.

The dragon roared, and all the grimm roared, all the grimm of both hordes, the one before and the one to the side, they all roared and bellowed and trumpeted as fiercely — no, more fiercely, much more fiercely — as they had done when the battle first started.

The dragon roared and dived. It was pursued by fire from the Vigilant, Endurance, and Reliant, but it ignored them all, tucking in its dark red wings to fall down through the night, right down on the Atlas line, only to open its wings again to slow itself and pull up just before it hit the deck.

It could ignore the remaining cruisers in part because all the other flying grimm still in the air had thrown themselves upon the airships with renewed vigour, all of them seeming to try and get at the Daring as it made its slow retreat away from danger. Endurance and Reliant, even the Vigilant, and all the fighters of the two squadrons were preoccupied trying to save the Daring and had no capacity left for the troops on the ground.

They were alone as the dragon dropped towards them.

Fire lanced up from the ground towards it: rifle fire, rockets, light support weapons. Ciel fired Distant Thunder, Rainbow blazed away with Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome, Blake snapped shot after shot with Gambol Shroud, even Sun was firing the shotguns in his nunchucks, though the range was very long. Flynt was playing his trumpet from where he stood nearly right underneath the dragon's approach, Starlight fired with Equaliser, nobody but nobody was just standing there while the dragon fell on them. But so much fire was inaccurate, so many hands were shaking, Rainbow knew that her aim felt a little screwed up right now; falling Atlas kept reaching out and leaping in front of her eyes and throwing her off.

She knew she couldn't be the only one.

And even where the shots were well aimed, even where they hit the target, the dragon just took it all, soaking up bullets and rockets and whatever else as it dropped on them.

The dragon pulled up, claws outstretched at the ends of its massive legs. Those claws dug into the earth, tearing through the Atlesian rampart, knocking soldiers and huntsmen aside, seizing some of them in its grip.

Seizing Flynt, and Kobalt and Ivori too, all the members of Team FNKI except for Neon, who was with them instead of with her teammates.

"Flynt!" Neon shrieked, as high pitched and piercingly as the dragon had shrieked before. She leapt down off the rampart, not bothering with the steps, a rainbow streaking out behind her as she rushed at the dragon, firing her pistol at it as she charged.

The dragon ignored her. It swept onwards, dragging its claws through the dirt like the blades of a plough. The line of the Third was scattered as soldiers and students leapt out the way — Rainbow saw Trixie get clear, her moon and star cape flying behind her — or else got snatched up in the claws of the grimm. Paladins that stood their ground, or that were too slow to do anything else, were knocked aside with huge dents or gashes in their armour, arms or legs ripped off.

The dragon rose up off the ground, and as it rose, droplets of black, oily goo dripped from its jaws to land on the ground beneath it. The dragon took off, turning away from the Third Battalion and sweeping above the hordes of grimm. For a short while, those caught up in its claws could be heard crying out, could just about be seen thrashing and writhing in its grip.

Then there was no more sound, and no more sight of them.

There was no sign of Flynt, or the rest of Team FNKI. There was only Neon, standing alone on the battlefield, screaming wordlessly in rage and frustration.

Rainbow could not help, but … Rainbow could not help. What Neon was going through was a wound worse than any that could be taken on the body. It was not something that could be lessened, not by her, maybe not even by Ciel. It was something that—

It was something that would have to be dealt with later, because those puddles of black ooze that had fallen from the dragon like water dripping off a wet person come in out the rain were now beginning to turn into grimm. The pools were drying up, shrinking on the ground, and as they shrank, out of the black rose young beowolves and boarbatusks.

And from the corner of the line where the dragon had shattered the rampart with its claws, the grimm roared as they began to push through.

"Hold them back!" Colonel Harper shouted, her voice ringing out like a trumpet call. "Stand fast, Fourth Battalion! Stand fast and close the gap on them! Concentrate fire on the right flank. Through the wire!"

"Through the what?" Blake asked.

Rainbow didn't explain; there wasn't time. Colonel Harper's voice had rallied her, at least in part; falling Atlas still lingered in her mind, but the Colonel had pushed it back, or pushed Atlas up into the air once more, or … something like that. She couldn't say to herself that she wasn't rattled by the dragon's shriek, that it hadn't tangled her nerves, but all the same, she could still do this.

She took a deep breath.

"Ciel," she said. "Provide covering fire from here; try to intercept the grimm before they reach the breach in the rampart."

"Understood."

"Blake, Sun, you're with me," Rainbow said. "We're going to close that gap." And with those words, she led the way, leaping off the rampart as Neon had done before her and racing for the gap the dragon had gouged in the earthwork.

The soldiers could fire down into that gap, but to stand in front of it, or even in it, and stop the grimm getting through was a job for huntresses.

A boarbatusk, one of the ones sprung out of the pools of ooze dripped by the dragon — and just what was up with that? — tried to intercept her, charging across the open ground, grunting and squealing. It threw itself at her, white tusks gleaming in the moonlight. Rainbow grabbed one tusk as it charged and used it like gym bars, pulling herself up and over and onto the boarbatusk's back, where a single shot from Undying Loyalty to the back of its head was enough to finish it off.

Others of the newly spawned grimm were attacking the Third Battalion in the rear, at the same time as the grimm horde in front renewed its attack as though Rainbow and the rest had never killed the Apex Alpha.

That was … not good, but it was something that Trixie and Starlight would have to worry about for now; Rainbow's focus was on the grimm getting through the rampart. Troops were shooting down at them from above, unable to miss the tightly packed grimm, and Rainbow could hear the roar of Distant Thunder as it spoke, but the grimm were so many, tightly pressed together as they fought to get through the breach, that there was no way they could all be shot down from above.

Rainbow charged towards the gap in the Atlesian defences, clobbering a beowolf that tried to get in her way with Undying Loyalty. She charged, with a rainbow trailing after her like Pyrrha's sash, right into the black mass of teeth and claws that poured over the torn down mound of earth.

Rainbow fired her shotgun right into the face of a … there were so many grimm, and they were all so close together that it was hard to make out what was what, or else her head still wasn't quite right after the dragon, and she couldn't think that clearly. But did she really need to know what they were, the nature of the things she was killing? They were grimm, white in bone and tooth and black in a lot of other places, and Rainbow killed them all as best she could. She fired her shotgun into their faces, she hit them with the butt of her gun or with her fists, she kicked them. She didn't use aura booms, because this would be an awful place to run out of aura, and she was losing it anyway, losing it by nicks and scratches as the claws of the grimm reached out for her.

They nipped and nicked at her aura, but Rainbow fought on anyway. She emptied her shotgun and drew her machine pistols; she emptied those too and used her fists and feet, she stood her ground as the grimm pressed forward. Blake was beside her, using fire clones to blow up two or three grimm at a time, or ice clones to freeze them in place for Rainbow or Sun — he'd got there, too, his red staff spinning in his hands — to take care of; or sometimes she used earth clones to give herself or one of the others a temporary respite to hide behind and reload.

And when she wasn't using clones, she hacked away at the grimm with sword and cleaver. Her paleness under the moonlight shone like a deadly star amongst the dark night of the charging grimm.

And the soldiers fired down on the grimm from up above, and from the flank, the guns of the Fourth Battalion turned right to rake the grimm as they swarmed for the breach.

Then the dragon roared as it swooped down again, not heading for the same place, no, it was heading towards a different point on the line of the Fourth — towards Ciel's point, where she still stood and provided fire support with Distant Thunder.

The dragon opened its mouth and unleashed its breath, a beam of yellow slicing down to carve a corridor through the earth as the dragon flew towards the Atlesian position.

"Ciel, move!" Rainbow shouted, uncertain if Ciel could hear her over the roaring of all the grimm. "Blake, I'll be back." She started to move, to go to Ciel, but a beowolf grabbed her from behind and tried to pull her over. Rainbow flipped the young beowolf over her shoulder and crushed its skull with one foot, but a creep popped up from under the ground to wrap its jaws around her ankle.

Rainbow killed that too and started to move — she'd be back, she'd be back soon — but she'd lost time, and the dragon was moving so fast, and its energy attack swept on ahead of it, so bright it was blinding.

Rainbow couldn't see Ciel as the blazing yellow beam struck the barricade.

The burning light was all she could see.

The dragon was coming right at her, with a mouth large enough to swallow the world.

Ciel swung the muzzle of Distant Thunder around, her rifle roaring as she hit the dragon square in the forehead — to no effect.

The dragon came on regardless, unstoppable, inexorable, and like a vanguard came before it, that wall of deadly energy, that power that had torn through gallant ships and would do the same to her, no doubt, if she did not move.

Move, move, she needed to move. She needed to get away, to escape the oncoming storm, to escape the deadly energy. She needed to get off this rampart, she needed to move aside, she needed to flee, she needed to move.

She needed to move, but she could not. The dragon was looking right at her. As it flew forwards, as it sent its wall of energy running before it, as it swept towards the Atlesian line it loomed right at her. Its red eyes burned like dying stars, smouldering.

There were snakes, Ciel understood, that could hypnotise small birds, paralyse them so they could not resist the serpent's devouring maw.

Now, she was the small bird, and felt smaller still as the great maw rushed towards her.

And the beam that would devour her first rushed ever swifter.

It was coming closer and closer, and Ciel could not move. It was as the classic nightmare, the monster approaching, the legs frozen, the mouth stopped up. She could not move. None of the soldiers with her on the rampart could move. They were all transfixed, all standing there frozen as the grimm came on.

The light of the beam was so bright, so bright that it eventually even blocked out the sight of the dragon and its eyes; Ciel's legs and arms and will were all her own again — but it was too late; the beam was too close and moved too quickly.

There was a flash of rainbow light beside her, and Ciel felt herself violently shoved aside, thrown off the rampart, barely able to keep her grip on Distant Thunder.

Ciel looked up as she fell. Neon. Neon had pushed her out of the way and now.

The whole world seemed to slow as Neon hung, suspended, one arm outstretched to push Ciel aside, mouth open to frame a word Ciel could not hear, poised to leap aside but not quite away as the beam swept on.

The yellow beam consumed everything.

Ciel was blinded by the light. She lost sight of Neon and the rampart and everything else. She could see nothing; all of Remnant was lost to her save only the light of the dragon's breath.

"NEON!" Ciel screamed as she fell. She did not know what she hoped for in reply save something, anything, some answer that would show Neon was still here.

But there was no answer, none at all, no recourse for Ciel but to pray that Neon yet lived, because if not…

If not…

If not, and for Ciel's own sake…

Ciel hit the ground, landing heavily upon her back with a hard thump and a dent in her aura. The golden beam passed on, ravaging more of the ground, carving a trench through it, before the dragon ceased its onslaught and once more turned upwards and a way.

A wide breach had been blasted in the Atlesian rampart. The earthwork was gone, vanished utterly, and so, too, the soldiers who had stood upon it to repel the grimm. This breach was wider — far wider — than the breach the dragon had made with its claws, and flatter too.

Neon lay on the edge of the trench the dragon's beam had cut into the ground.

Ciel gasped in relief as she leapt to her feet. She rushed to Neon's side — only for that gasp of relief to be followed by a gasp of horror as she saw what remained of her friend.

Neon Katt's right arm and leg were gone, not even stumps remaining. Half her tail had been burned away, and half her body, her entire right side, had burn marks upon it, from her chin down to her thigh, blackened and charred.

And for my sake…

And yet, she lived. Her sea green eyes flickered, before coming to rest on Ciel.

"Neon!" Ciel managed to both cry and whisper the name, her voice trembling. She knelt down beside her, turning her head away for a moment to look for aid.

"Medic!" She yelled. "Medic!"

No one came. No help came. This part of the battlefield was empty, save for them; soldiers, Paladins, mortars, all gone, and only the two of them remaining.

Neon tried to speak, a cracking, wheezing sound emerging from her throat.

"Don't speak," Ciel told her. "Don't try to speak; save your strength. Medic! I need help over here!"

The only answer was the roaring of the grimm as they swarmed through the breach, through the gate the dragon had made for them. Beowolves and ursai and boarbatusks led the way, while the goliaths made the earth tremble as they came up behind.

Ciel bared her teeth in a snarl as savage as on any beowolf's maw as she picked up Distant Thunder and planted herself between Neon and the grimm.

"Stay away from her, you bastards!" Ciel shouted as she levelled her rifle.

She fired from the hip. At this range and with the grimm in front of her numerous, she could hardly miss. An ursa was blown away by her first shot. She worked the bolt, ejecting the cartridge and chambering a new round in a single fluid motion. She fired again. Bolt, aim. Fire. Bolt, aim. Fire.

The bolt locked, her magazine was out of rounds, the chamber was empty. No time to reload; the grimm were almost upon her. Ciel reached for the pistol she kept holstered underneath her skirt, but she had given that to Neon.

Ciel reflexively, instinctually, slung Distant Thunder across her back rather than simply dropping it; it was too long for her to wield reversed as a club.

She raised her fists instead, one foot stepping back as she shifted into a defensive stance.

I would rather stand before the Lady side by side with you than live a hundred years or more hereafter, Ciel thought.

The lead beowolf pounced upon her, claws outstretched.

There was another blurring flash of rainbow light as Rainbow Dash punched the beowolf in the face hard enough to shatter its skull.

She landed, poised on one toe, blasting a boarbatusk with her shotgun even as she kicked another away with her free foot.

She spared Ciel the briefest glance. "Get her to the aid station!"

"But," Ciel said. "To move her without—"

"There is no possible way you could make things worse," Rainbow snapped. "Now pick her up already! That's an order!"

Ciel did not disobey orders. She left Rainbow to fend off the grimm while she returned to Neon's side.

She still lived, God be praised, she still looked up at Ciel as Ciel knelt beside her and scooped her up in her arms. She felt heavier than she looked, heavier than Ciel had expected, but it was a burden that she was equal to, climbing to her feet and turning in the direction of the station.

Behind her, she could hear Rainbow's shotgun bellowing in counterpoint to the roaring of the grimm.

As she ran, trying not to jostle Neon too much, Ciel could hear not only Rainbow's shotgun, but gunshots in general coming from her left, from the right flank, where the Third Battalion was.

Of course she would hear gunshots from there, as well as behind. The grimm were attacking there too. God had laughed at their efforts to disorder the grimm there.

God had laughed at many of their efforts. Ciel hoped and prayed that, with the aid and imprecations of the Lady, He would like kindly upon every valiant son and daughter of Atlas slain this fight; she hoped that almost as much as she hoped that Neon would be granted a reprieve from judgement tonight and many years hereafter. But she feared that it would not be so on the basis of this reversal that had suddenly been visited upon them. Rather, it seemed that they were being punished for their hubris, brought low with dolorous blows to teach them wisdom and humility.

I will learn any lesson, my gracious lady, Ciel thought. I will learn any lesson, do any penance, render any service, but please, please, if there is mercy in you or love for men, let Neon be spared.

Her answer was a beowolf coming at her from the side. It was young, very young, practically devoid of armour; it must have sprung from a puddle of that black oily substance that dripped from the dragon as it passed by. Yet it had claws and teeth, and both were sharp, and Neon's aura was broken, and Ciel was encumbered.

As the beowolf sprang at her, Ciel was at a loss to do more than turn her back and shield Neon with her body.

She waited for the blow, for the claws to rake her aura, but they did not. The blow never came. Instead, the beowolf let out a startled yelp, and Ciel looked over her shoulder in time to see the beowolf, Blake's hook buried in its back, yanked off its feet and pulled towards a waiting Blake, who cut it in half with a swing of her cleaver.

Ciel did not thank her, though she deserved more than thanks; Neon had no time for it. Ciel left Blake behind as she had left Rainbow Dash behind, scrambling up the trail of lights with gunfire from behind and the side ringing in her ears. Up ahead, the Spider droids were continuing to fire, but their shells sounded as if they were landing closer now.

A squad of infantry ran past her, jostling her and Neon as they ran. They seemed disarrayed, panicked. Ciel could only hope it did not spread.

A Spider droid headed the other way, its gun barrels raised and its fists at the ready. The situation must have been desperate to bring the artillery in up close like that. But then, that was no especial news to Ciel, not anymore.

The aid station was up ahead; Ciel quickened her pace, hoping Neon would forgive, or at least endure, the rocky ride in service of a little haste.

She reached the white tents and burst inside. There were plenty of soldiers there already; the tents were about half full, with cases roaming across the full spectrum of severity.

But she couldn't see anyone as badly in need as Neon.

"Help!" She gasped. "For God's sake, someone help her."

"Let me see," said a sandy-haired man in a white coat as he strode forwards, in between a row of beds on wheels occupied and empty. As he got closer, his grey eyes widened. "What happened to her?"

"The dragon," Ciel said. "The dragon's breath."

"Put her down here," the man — the doctor, she supposed — gestured to a nearby bed. Ciel followed him and laid Neon down as gently as she could.

Neon was still looking at her, but her expression was … Ciel found it hard to make out if Neon had an expression, much less what it was.

She half-wished that Neon would not look at her, save that by looking, she showed Ciel that she was still alive.

How she must hate Ciel. Every misery and suffering in her life would be Ciel's doing.

If she had only let me die…

"We need to make sure she's stable," the doctor said. "Then get her to a medical frigate ASAP."

"You need to get everyone here airborne ASAP, Doc," Rainbow said.

She stood in the mouth of the tent, reloading her shotgun without looking at it.

Ciel swallowed. So, it had become so bad, so swiftly?

"What's going on?" demanded the doctor.

"The line is coming apart, sir," Rainbow said. "The grimm are through, and I don't think the Third is gonna hold either. You need to get everyone out of here."

"Some of these patients still aren't stable enough to be moved," the doctor protested.

"I'm afraid the grimm won't wait for you," Rainbow replied. "But I'll give you as long as I can."

"And I, too," Ciel said.

Rainbow's eyes flickered towards her. "Are you sure that you don't—?"

"This is what I can do for Neon," Ciel said. To the doctor she said, "Take care of her, please; she is … her worth is beyond diamonds or dust."

The doctor nodded. His face gave no clue to his thoughts, nor did he venture to enlighten her.

So Ciel followed Rainbow out the white medical tent. Once outside, she unslung Distant Thunder from over her shoulder and finally slammed a fresh magazine into the mag well.

Blake was waiting for them outside, and Sun Wukong too.

And also waiting outside was the sight of the battlefield on which she had turned her back to carry Neon to medical aid — though scarcely, as it turned out, to safety.

The state of the fighting that confronted her eyes … Ciel might not have said that the defence was coming apart, but word choice aside, it seemed hard to dispute Rainbow's grim prognosis.

The grimm were pouring through both breaches in the earthwork, more through the gap made by the beam, but that made by claws was not short of use either. Atlesian troops had abandoned or were abandoning the earthworks and the walls, ceding the Green Line to the grimm before they were flanked, encircled, and overrun. Ciel could see some efforts to establish a new line, but without the defences, that task was immediately made more difficult.

Even as she thought that, Ciel witnessed a Paladin try to intercept a goliath as it stormed forward through the ranks of the grimm. The Paladin fired its cannons and a barrage of mini missiles, all to no avail; the goliath came forward regardless. The Paladin's guns receded as it raised its fists.

The machine crashed with the monster, grabbing hold of its tusks, pushing against its might. For a moment, all things seemed to hang in the balance. Then the goliath flicked its head and pulled the Paladin off its feet before dumping it down onto the ground.

The goliath trumpeted loudly as it reared up, then brought its forefeet slamming down upon the Paladin's cockpit, crushing it beneath its monstrous bulk.

And on the flank, the Third Battalion was falling back in fits and starts, squads retreating in a haphazard fashion, some of them firing as they backed away from the grimm, others turning their backs upon their monstrous foes as they retreated, others looking at times to be in grave danger of being surrounded and having to fight their way out by the skin of their teeth.

Still others yet were less fortunate, falling beneath the tide of darkness and disappearing from sight.

It was a view as grim as the grimm themselves, a situation black as the oily coats of the dark creatures, as dark as the pools from which mote such monsters rose to take the Atlesians in the rear. The only chink of light in all of this was that there was no more sign of the dragon.

And yet, for all that the situation was grim and the battle had turned against them, nevertheless, Ciel felt … it was hard to put a word to how she felt. Balanced? Invigorated? Certain. Certain was the word; she felt certain.

Neon's life was in the hands of the doctors and nurses within the tent, and on the medical frigate when she made it there, but it was also in her hands. If she and her friends could defend this station until the wounded could be evacuated, then Neon would live. If not, then she would die.

It was as simple as that, and in that simplicity, all fear, all doubt, all nerves, and all confusion were banished. They had been slain as surely as if the dragon had turned its breath upon them.

Neon would not die; she would not allow it.

She knelt down and raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder.

"'Play up,'" Blake murmured. "'Play up, and play the game.'"

"Huh?" asked Sun.

"'The sand of the desert is sodden red,'" Ciel said softly. "'Red with the blood of the square that broke. The machine gun jammed and the colonel dead, and the battalion blinded with dust and smoke. The river of death has brimmed its banks, and Atlas is far, and honour a name. But the voice of a schoolchild rallies the ranks: play up, play up, and play the game.'"

"What's a schoolkid doing on a battlefield?" asked Sun.

Rainbow snorted. "They’re not a … never mind; Blake can read you the whole thing later. The point is … the point is, like Blake said, there's nothing else for it." She paused. "This time … this time, there's no choice. We can't go anywhere until the medical evac arrives, so … let's play."

Ciel closed one eye and took aim at an ursa major.

Distant Thunder roared.

Trixie thrust out her wand, a gust of fire leaping from the tip to incinerate a couple of boarbatusks that had been coming their way. The pig-like grimm squealed as the fires devoured them.

Behind her, Starlight fired five successive shots with Equaliser into the chest of an alpha beowolf before clubbing it across the face with the barrel to finish it off.

Sunburst levelled his staff, and a lot of the rest of the pack was blown away, lifted up by a gust of wind and thrown into the darkness somewhere. Somewhere else. Somewhere that was not where Team TTSS — and Maud — were.

One of the remaining beowolves in the pack jumped on Trixie from behind, making her stumble forwards — for a moment, before she felt the grimm pulled off her.

Maud held the struggling beowolf by its neck. Her face was impassive as she stoved its face in with a single punch.

"Thanks," Trixie said, straightening her hat back on her head. She looked around. The Third was falling back around them, in an order that … well, it varied a little bit, but it was all moving backwards, and for good reason. The grimm had gotten tired of their little passive moment and gotten right back to it — in fact, they seemed even fiercer than before, and even more coordinated. And it didn't help that there were grimm behind them, either from those pools of wherever they'd come from or from the fact that they'd gotten through the front line.

And it certainly didn't help that the dragon had ripped through their line just a while ago and taken a chunk out of it. Trixie had been lucky not to get snatched up in its claws.

A lot of others hadn't been so lucky. Team FNKI…

It was not a good situation, was the point, and if the Third was falling back — which it was — then it was no mystery as to why.

It was a little bit of a mystery where they were gonna fall back to, but that was something for someone higher up than Trixie to decide.

What she knew was that if her team didn't move, they were going to be cut off.

"Back," she said. "We need to move back."

It was just like the fairgrounds again, back and back, falling back in front of too many grimm to fight off, trying to do damage without being able to see it making any difference. Only, they didn't even have any fireworks this time, or any place like a carousel to fall back to, just … back.

But back they went, because it was a whole lot better than the alternative.

Back, with Starlight firing, with Sunburst wearing out his wind dust crystals as fast as Trixie went through phials of any kind of dust, with Maud hitting any grimm that got too close, with Rarity using her semblance to try and shield them from grimm teeth and claws. Back and back and always back, while the grimm moved always forward.

"Tsunami! Sabre!" Colonel Harper's voice cut through the battlefield, rising above the gunfire and the roars of the grimm. "Team Tsunami and Team Sabre, to me."

Trixie looked around. Colonel Harper stood at her modest command post, the command post at which she had greeted them all when the battle began. She was joined by a couple of officers, by the sergeant major who had led them down to the command post in the first place tonight, by the colonel's Mistralian orderly with their scimitar drawn, and by the two Knights with the colours set in their backs.

Colonel Harper held a pistol in one hand, but her sword was in its sheath, half covered by her blue cloak. The battle had not reached the command post — there were still troops and androids fighting in front of her — but Trixie didn't know how long it would stay that way.

"Come on," Trixie said, leading her team out of the line and towards the command post whilst it remained behind the line. She could see Team SABR doing the same, breaking contact and falling back as instructed.

The two teams reached the command post at more or less the same time, standing on either side of Colonel Harper and her party.

Colonel Harper looked from one team to the other. Her face was grave, as well it might be in the circumstances. There were lines beneath her eyes that hadn't been there when the battle began.

But despite that, when she spoke, her voice was as clear as a bell.

"Well fought, ladies and gentlemen," she said. "Now it's time to save the colours."

Nobody replied. To talk about saving the colours was to say that the battle was lost.

It was hard to argue with that.

Colonel Harper went on, "Lulamoon, Silverband, carry them to safety. The … honour of the Fourth is in your hands."

It was a great honour, to be chosen for this, for Colonel Harper to pick her, to ask for Trixie above all others.

It was a great honour, yet Trixie did not feel great and powerful in this moment, far from it. If she had been so great and powerful, the colours would not have needed saving, by her or anyone else.

And so her voice was small and grave as she said, "I will, ma'am."

"And I, too," Sabine added. "They won't get them."

Colonel Harper nodded. "Good girls," she said. "The colours!"

The faces of the two androids nodded forwards, the light disappearing from their black faceplates. The two standards on their metal poles rose up out of the backs of the Knights.

Colonel Harper reached out with her free hand and grabbed the Atlesian Colour by its pole, lifting it the rest of the way up out of the android's back. She rested the butt of the staff upon the ground even as she offered the flag to Trixie.

A breath of wind caught the standard and made the flag dance for a second. The Atlesian emblem rippled across the silk.

Trixie reached out with one hand, closing her fingers around the pole. She felt a charge run through her, an electric feeling, the responsibility of the moment shocking her so she would not forget.

Starlight's Equaliser transformed into its polearm mode with a series of clicks and snaps.

Colonel Harper nodded, then turned away, and did the same with the Battalion Colour, pulling it from its Knight and handing it to Sabine. Sabine looked a little nervous as she took it from the Colonel's hand.

Colonel Harper stepped back, eyes flickering between the two of them. "Tell…" she started, then trailed off. She shook her head. "Go," she commanded. "And God go with you."

"And the God of Animals with you, ma'am," Sabine murmured.

Colonel Harper didn't reply. She turned away and drew her sword with a flourish as she faced the grimm.

Trixie and Sabine locked eyes. They didn't speak. There wasn't much to say.

They both ran, with their teams around them. Team TTSS ran straight, while Team SABR veered off to the right more. That was smart; travelling separately, there was more chance at least one colour would make it, even if they were both ultimately heading the same way, towards Vale.

Trixie looked back, over her shoulder, to where Colonel Harper still stood. She was still, standing there with her sword in one hand and her pistol in the other, with her attendants around her as the grimm closed in.

Her cape fluttered gently behind her in the night breeze.

And the Atlesian flag streamed out as it was carried backwards in retreat.

Author's Note

The chapter title has a double meaning, referring to both Ciel carrying the injured Neon to the medical station but also Trixie being handed the colours to bear away as the line breaks.

Parts of the battle chapters have been influenced by the movie Zulu Dawn, and that's particularly the case here, with Colonel Harper a mixture of Pulleine and Durnford.

During the Napoleonic Wars, the colours of a British infantry battalion were carried by a young ensign, and guarded by a veteran sergeant with a half-pike or a halberd; this is the only reason why Starlight transforms Equaliser out of gun and into polearm mode once Trixie is given the standard.

In the original, Neon died along with the rest of Team FNKI; obviously she's had much more presence in the rewrite, and been really so much fun that I couldn't bring myself to kill her off (not to mention how very cruel that would have been to Ciel) so she survives here, albeit sustaining some pretty serious injuries in the process.

The poem that Blake and Ciel reference is called Vitai Lampada, "They Pass on the Torch of Life", and the full poem explains why, as Sun asks, there is a schoolchild on the battlefield:

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --

Ten to make and the match to win --

A bumping pitch and a blinding light,

An hour to play and the last man in.

And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,

Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,

But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote --

'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

The sand of the desert is sodden red, --

Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --

The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,

And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.

The river of death has brimmed his banks,

And England's far, and Honour a name,

But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:

'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

This is the word that year by year,

While in her place the School is set,

Every one of her sons must hear,

And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling fling to the host behind --

'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

It's very 'the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton', but I think that kind of suits the Atlesians.

The idea of the Atlesian ships having identifying markings came to me when I was wondering how I could possibly write the battle scene from the perspective of a character on the ground while having the individual vessels above be identifiable and not just 'the first ship', 'second ship' etc.

Ozpin's Stand (New)

Ozpin’s Stand

"Wh-what is that?" Lyra cried as the monster rose into the night sky, rising so high that it was silhouetted against the broken moon above.

Lyra's voice shook. Amber could understand why. She was shaking a little herself. Such a grimm, such an enormous grimm, even at this vast distance, it looked large and loomed large; how much larger must it look and loom up close? So large, how terrible must it be to be so large?

She was not a foe to Salem; indeed, upon this night, she was Salem's best and dearest friend; nothing could be achieved without her, all of this night's efforts and struggles and attacks were pointless without her. Amber's life was more valuable to Salem than many hordes of grimm. But did the grimm know that? Did this grimm know that? Or did it know only that she had killed grimm earlier this night and that she was of a size to be swallowed whole?

Oh, that the night were passed. Oh, that the dawn would come and shine upon my liberty.

Oh, that the dawn would come and find Pyrrha and Sunset and all others safe and well and free to rest as I am free to go.

Oh, that I did not look upon this monster in the sky and tremble so.

Oh, that I had nothing to fear.

Perhaps she had nothing to fear. But she was afraid nonetheless; though this great grimm was far away, the very sight of it put the fear in her.

Its size, its sudden arrival, and the very fact that she could not answer Lyra's question, that she had no idea where to begin with an answer, they all combined to make her fear. What was this thing? Where had it come from? Had its arrival been anticipated, planned for? Or had it simply been drawn to the battle by the fear and the pain and the confusion and was no part of Salem's plans or her intent? What would it do, now that it was here?

Amber turned her scarred face away from the monster, even as the monstrous grimm became harder to see, descending from before the moon into the black of night surrounding it; the stars did not give off such light, the creature's presence could only be discerned by the way that it blocked out the stars here and there, or by the distant view of red wings, a flash of white moving in ways that no star would.

Amber turned away and turned her gaze on her companions, wondering if they might have some answer that eluded her. Dove did not, obviously; he was as in the dark as Lyra was on this, although he stood before her with one hand upon the hilt of his sword as though he would protect her from so large a grimm. Sweet Dove, brave Dove, her Dove still, in spite of everything that she had done — and even done to him.

But even those that Amber might have thought — or hoped — to have more answers looked dumbstruck by the sight they had beheld. Bon Bon looked shocked, amazed, and so, too, did Lightning Dust, who had joined them in the dark after their flight from Beacon. Amber didn't know her, but Lyra and Dove both seemed to recognise her, and Lyra hadn't liked Lightning Dust's presence, for all that Bon Bon had been able to calm her down.

Lightning Dust looked awed, mouth gaping open, while Tempest's eyes were wide.

Wide yet flickering back and forth, alight with calculation; they narrowed from their previous width as Tempest smiled out of one corner of her mouth.

"What is it?" she repeated. "This is our moment. We must return to Beacon at once."

Dove looked at her. "Now?"

"Yes, now!" Tempest declared. "When else, when better?"

"I don't know," Amber admitted. "But … but that thing—"

"Is no threat to us," Tempest assured her. "Rather, it is our fortune, our opportunity."

"'Opportunity'?" Lyra repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"The line will surely shatter now," Tempest said. Contempt filled her voice as she went on, "The General, the gallant ships, the thin white line, the sorority of sisters shoulder to shoulder, they will not stand against this power, not now. Soon, Beacon will be cut off from Vale by land, and the skies will no longer be under the rule of Atlas. Even if they find out where we are, no one will be able to reach us. On the other hand, if we stay here, then we risk being caught up in the retreat of the Atlesian troops and in the pursuit by the grimm."

"What if you're wrong?" Lyra asked. "Rainbow, Trixie—"

"Your faith in your acquaintances is touching," Tempest said, without any sincerity. "But misplaced. They've done well so far, I grant, but they cannot hold back this storm, not anymore."

"Say you’re right," Lyra said. "Then what? If the grimm break through, then what's going to happen? To Beacon, to Rainbow and the others, to all the people who live outside the Red Line?"

"Councillor Emerald has already ordered an evacuation," Dove reminded her. "Everyone will be safe behind the walls by now, and … if the line is broken, then I suppose that everyone, Jaune and Pyrrha and the others, will retreat behind the wall as well and make their stand there." He frowned. "But you make a good point about Beacon; if it is cut off from Vale by the grimm, what then? What happens to the school itself, what happens to everyone sheltering at Benni Havens'?"

"We'll warn them," Amber said. "We'll go back to Beacon, and we'll…" She stopped for a moment, bowing her head as she thought. What could they say? What could they say that would explain their return and persuade Benni to leave her restaurant?

"We will tell her…" she began, hoping to invite suggestions from Dove or Lyra — or possibly from the others, if need be.

"We'll tell her that the grimm are going to break through the line and sweep across the country to reach Vale," Bon Bon said.

"Except that hasn't happened yet," Dove pointed out. "What if she doesn't believe it, what if she has faith in Pyrrha and the others to hold the line?"

"Then that's her problem," Lightning said bluntly. "You've gone to the trouble of warning them what's about to happen; what happens to them after that is their own business. If you tell someone there's going to be an avalanche but they keep climbing the mountain regardless, then it's not on you if they get buried in the snow."

"That depends on why they don't believe you," Amber murmured. "I, we … this isn't about easing our consciences; this is about persuading Benni and the others to get to safety. We will tell them that we've been told that the line cannot hold. We've been told by … Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, Professor Goodwitch, somebody, someone has told us that the line is about to break, and so we've volunteered to go back to Beacon, which is safe from the grimm now, safer than where we were is about to be, and then warn everyone still there that they need to get to Vale while there's still time."

There was a moment of pause.

"Will it be believed?" Tempest asked.

"Benni has no reason not to believe us," Bon Bon pointed out.

"She trusts us," said Lyra softly.

Tempest shrugged. "You know best on that front, I suppose, but won't she then expect us all to leave with her and her guests?"

"Not if we need to spread word through the rest of Beacon first," Dove pointed out. "We can then go on and…" He paused. "What will happen to Beacon?"

"I don't know," said Tempest.

"That's a first," muttered Lyra. "You seem to know an awful lot that you don't say until you have to."

Tempest rolled her eyes. "I understand that this sequence of revelations must be quite confusing for you," she said, "and if you're finding it a little too confusing, then please, feel free to leave at any time."

"I'd like Lyra to stay," Amber said firmly. "For as long as she wishes."

Tempest ignored that, instead saying, "But I assure you, I assure you all, I don't know what will become of Beacon—"

"Because you don't actually know anything, do you?" Lightning Dust asked, a smirk on her face. "You're just guessing all this, trying to pretend like you know when you're as in the dark as any of us."

"There's no need to look so smug about that, considering that we're all in the same boat," Tempest replied sharply. She paused for a few seconds. She scowled, but said, "It's true, I don't know for certain that that grimm we've all just seen, the one that made the ground shake, the one that obliterated a mountain will break the lines. Perhaps Lyra is right, and good old Rainbow Dash and beautiful Blake, the Warrior Princess with the untarnished face and soft, pale hands, everyone's new darling, will slay the monster just like that!" She snapped her fingers. "Hooray for Atlas!" She snorted. "But I doubt it."

"Why do you hate them so much?" asked Lyra.

Tempest blinked. Her face twisted, contorted, she even momentarily bared her teeth as her opal eyes blazed and her fists clenched. Then she took a deep breath, and then another, her chest rose and fell. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened her eyes and spoke again, her voice was calmer than it had been.

"Everything that I have said," she declared. "Everything that I've laid out for you has been my honest opinion on what will happen. I believe that the grimm, led by their new friend, will break through the line and sweep towards Vale."

"And what then?" Lyra asked. "If they can break through one line, then what's to stop them breaching the wall and getting into Vale itself?"

"Because…" Bon Bon began, then stopped. "Because of all the defences on the wall, it's much stronger than the Green Line is."

Amber didn't know if Bon Bon was telling the truth, but it didn't sound entirely convincing.

But she hoped it was true, nonetheless.

"Lyra … we cannot save Vale," she said, putting one hand upon her shoulder. "Only our friends can do that."

"But," Lyra murmured. "Your power?"

"I'm not strong enough," Amber said softly. "Even … even if I was brave enough to fight that monster, which I'm not, I'd be too terrified to even try to … but even if I were braver, even if were as brave as Pyrrha, or Sunset, I still wouldn't be to defeat a monster like that and protect Vale all by myself. All that we can do is what we're going to do, which is make sure that Benni and the others get out of Beacon before it's too late. We'll even…" She glanced at Dove. "We'll even make sure that Ruby hasn't been left behind, and isn't." She wasn't entirely sure how they would do that, since if Ruby had been left behind — not that she'd blame Pyrrha and the others if they had decided to leave her — then the only thing to do would be to take her with them.

Amber wasn't keen on that idea to say the least, but Ruby would still be asleep, so they wouldn't actually have to suffer her company before they left her … somewhere. They could stop at a little village on the way and dump Ruby safely in the care of a town doctor or something before continuing on their way. When Ruby woke up, she would be none the wiser as to where Amber had gone.

And Dove looked happy about it. He smiled approvingly. It would be worth it, to have that smile bestowed upon her.

Besides, Ruby had probably not been left behind; they just had to make sure of the fact.

Lyra hesitated a moment, but nodded. "Once people get out … I suppose it doesn't really matter what happens to Beacon afterwards, does it?"

"No," said Amber. "It's just bricks and mortar, after all."

She pulled the other girl into a one-armed embrace. "I'm glad you're here, Lyra," she whispered. "You're … you're my conscience, you and Dove. You … you make me a better person when I'm with you."

Amber felt Lyra's arms wrap around her in turn.

"Don't worry about it," Lyra said. "I know that it might seem like I complain or ask questions, but … I'm here for you."

"I know," Amber said softly, as she let her arm fall away from Lyra. "Now … now we should go, while we still have time."

Ozpin starred as the grimm rose into the sky. Such a creature…

And it was coming from the southeast. From Mountain Glenn, or nearby.

To think that such a thing had been there all along.

He should have known, perhaps. There had always been legends, rumours of a great beast slumbering beneath the mountain; that was why it was called the Dragon's Fang, after all. The Dragon's Fang, 'neath which the dragon slept, and would awaken in some dark, dread hour. He had not been blind to such rumours; he was not a man to dismiss fairytales, not a man to scoff at stories, not a man to disdain all things that could not be explained through rational thought and reason, no. He had put fairy tales onto the Beacon curriculum, though many thought him eccentric for it, because he believed in the power of fairy tales to reveal truth, both spiritual truths about the human heart but also, in some cases, very real truths about the world.

Contrary to what some might believe, he had no desire to keep an iron chest of secrecy around all the mysteries of Remnant. He would not tell all openly, would not bare his soul and all his mysteries, but if people were able to work out the truth by themselves, then he had no objection.

A part of him would be quite pleased by it.

In any case, he had not been deaf to the stories of dragons slumbering beneath the Dragon's Fang. He had not been sure if it had been a grimm or else a more magical dragon — such creatures had been known in ancient times; he wondered if they, too, had come from Equestria, but then, how had they done so without exchanging their forms for a more human appearance? — but he had heard that there was something under the mountain, and though there had been few enough people living there in those days, he had not ignored the reports. He had sent — or rather, he had inveigled upon the king of the time to send — Percy, one of the most promising young knights at court, to investigate and, if necessary, slay the creature that she found there. Olivia had argued that Percy was too young to be sent on such an errand, but he had been certain that Percy would perform adequately.

He had seen great things in her, and though Percy had proven to be flawed, as most people were, he still had a soft spot for her in his thoughts. She had possessed a passionate heart, though at times, that heart had led her astray.

Percy had set off on her errand, and a little while later, she had returned, grim-faced, to tell him that there was, indeed, a grimm beneath the mountain, but that she had been unable to kill it. It had been too big; she had stabbed the beast with her sword, driving the blade deep into the black flesh, but the grimm had not even stirred from slumber. The grimm was simply too large, and if it had any vulnerable spots, then the cave that led into the mountain did not allow Percy to reach them. He had thanked her, assured her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, and then sent Isolde, the new Fall Maiden after Nimue's death, to deal with it.

Isolde had assured him that it was done.

That now appeared to have been a lie on her part, or at least — assuming the best possible interpretation, that she had blocked the cave or done something to make it harder for the grimm to escape — an exaggeration.

That was the best interpretation. The worst … the worst was enough to make him wonder if Amber really was the first Maiden to fall to Salem's influence. Isolde had not been the Fall Maiden for very long; she had drowned herself in a barrel of water, then been revived by Owain, but before she had been revived, she had lost the magic, which had passed to Princess Ceinwyn, the Star of Vale. Curious behaviour, perhaps, to take such a risk, but he had accepted that she had not wanted the burden of possessing such power and was, honestly, a little impressed that she had found a way of giving them away to one more worthy of them.

Now, he wondered if she had perhaps found betrayal as unpalatable as continued service.

In any case, not knowing or suspecting any of this at the time, he had accepted Isolde's lie — or her exaggeration — and from then on, he had turned a deaf ear to tales of monsters beneath the Dragon's Fang, believing them to be the echoes of a danger long dealt with.

When all the while, it had remained waiting. It had not emerged to lay waste to Mountain Glenn, it had not opened its eyes afterwards to join the horde that swept up from the southeast towards Vale, it had not shattered the mountain and risen into the sky at any point, though there had been many points when Vale had seemed in desperate straits. Why, if this grimm had shown itself during the Great War … it scarcely bore thinking about.

But it showed itself now, now of all times. If that did not say something about the importance that Salem placed upon this battle, then…

It was not an encouraging thought.

Ozpin found, seeing the creature for himself even at this great distance between them, he could well understand how and why Percy had found herself unable to strike it down with sword or lance. It was too great, by far too great.

Now, he could only hope that James' northern lances of fire and light would prove more suited to the great task which now confronted them.

Ozpin tightened his grip upon his cane. Amber would surely come now, very soon. If this was not what she had been waiting for, she and Salem's henchman ranged about her, then he did not know why she delayed. Whatever came next, doubtless all the strength of Atlas and all the huntsmen of Beacon, Haven, and Atlas combined would be bent towards the defeat of that dragon and resisting a grimm attack that would doubtless have fresh heart put into it. He believed that they would triumph over it; as their headmaster, he could hardly not believe in them in the face of such a battle, but the fact remained that they would be kept busy by that, for a while at least.

Too busy to return to Beacon and defend the Relic, should Amber come to take it now.

It would be the perfect time for her to return and take the prize that Salem no doubt demanded of her.

At least, it would have been, had Ozpin himself not been there.

Though he was all alone, though he had sent all aid to fight in fields before the walls of Vale, nevertheless, he was — himself, alone — adequate to the task of keeping the Relic of Choice safe.

If Amber came, hoping to find all eyes turned away, all hands occupied, then she would find him waiting for her.

And he would…

And he would…

The cane trembled in Ozpin's hand.

Amber, her friends, and her associates crept back up the road towards Beacon. It was the same road that they had departed down only a little earlier that night, when the battle at Beacon had been in full swing.

Now, with the battle at Beacon over and the battle in front of Vale raging fiercely, Amber and the others returned the way that they had come, moving along the Vale road in the dead of night, while far off to the south and east…

Tempest had said that this new grimm, that looked so large and terrible, would break the line. Lyra thought that it might not, though that seemed mainly to be hope speaking rather than anything, while Tempest spoke with cold, cruel logic.

Nevertheless, Amber would prefer Lyra to be right, but if Tempest was correct…

Whichever of them was right, everyone would be in grave danger. They had always been in grave danger, but the danger seemed graver now, thanks to that new grimm that had joined the fray.

But she had spoke true to Lyra; she couldn't save Vale, she couldn't protect her friends. Even if she had been a braver or a stronger person, the Fall Maiden wasn't supposed to be a hero, not anymore. The Fall Maiden was supposed to hide, to keep her magic and her secrets safe.

The Fall Maiden was supposed to be a coward; that was what Ozpin wanted of her.

An obedient coward who would stay in her cage and never have the courage to leave it.

Well, I have, Ozpin! I have left, and you will never see me again.

And nobody will stop me.

She was so close now. So close to freedom that she could taste it. Once they had the Relic of Choice, then she would give it to Tempest, to take wherever she would, however she would; Amber wasn't interested in helping her deliver it to Salem, Tempest could work out how to do that by herself, and if someone as smug as Tempest Shadow hadn't thought that far, then, as Lightning Dust had said, it wasn't Amber's fault if she got buried in an avalanche. Amber would give her the Relic, and that would be her job done; it would be for Tempest — and Bon Bon and Lightning Dust — to get it to Salem or fight each other over who got the credit or whatever else they wished to do with the crown once they possessed it. Amber would give them the crown, and then she and Dove and Lyra would be free to get out of here, and go whither they would afterwards.

Amber had already given thought to the first stage of their journey: they would escape via the cliffs, into the Emerald Forest; yes, there were grimm there, or there might still be, but she thought that there were less grimm now than there had been since the attack on Beacon, and the three of them should be able to make it out okay. After all, it seemed from the stories she had heard of their time at school that Ozpin sent students into the Emerald Forest on their very first day, and while he was a wicked man, that maybe also meant it wasn't actually that dangerous.

That was why Amber was trusting more in the forest than in the grimm within it to cover their tracks and prevent pursuit.

Afterwards, once they were out of the forest, they would go due east, towards the mountains. Ozpin would probably expect them to go north, where Dove and Amber had lived when they were children, so heading east towards the mountains would throw his hunters off the scent; at least, Amber hoped it would. They could find some quiet place to live for a little while, in the foothills of the mountains, until … until it was safe to come down.

Or maybe they would like it there, in the foothills, in some quiet village, like the place they had grown up except with different trees. Somewhere with romantic ruins, where they could have a cottage by a stream, with space for a garden.

Pyrrha's Mistralian war poems were, in Amber's opinion, simply awful, bloodthirsty killers massacring one another over their hurt feelings; but the Mistralian pastoral poetry that Amber had found in one of her other books was so much better that it verged on the sublime. They knew what the good life was, those Mistralian poets.

That was all that Amber wanted for herself: the good life, the simple life, the pastoral life with Dove — and with Lyra too, if she wished to stay with them that far along the road. They would live like shepherd lads and lasses, with the joy of one another's company to succour them.

But that was all for the future. Everything after they escaped from the Emerald Forest, everything beyond was a few steps distant; for now, for the immediate term, getting the Relic, giving it away, and then getting themselves away, those were the immediate concerns.

And warning Benni Havens about the possibly imminent collapse of the defences beyond Vale.

Amber was glad, genuinely glad, that Lyra had reminded her of that. Benni had seemed like a nice woman when Amber had met her, but more than that, she had been a good friend to Dove, and to Lyra too, but especially to Dove. If making sure that Benni wasn't caught by surprise and killed by a sudden surge of grimm flooding up the road from Vale — the same road that they were now on — to storm her restaurant was the price to repay that debt then Amber would pay it gladly.

They were almost there now. Whilst Amber had been thinking, contemplating, dreaming of the future, they had walked along the road and almost reached Benni Havens'. The lights were still on within the cabin; even the sign was still lit up. Everything looked so calm. Probably the fact that the battle was over here had helped with that.

Amber didn't know how the battle had ended; she and the others had been far away from Beacon already when they had seen from afar a bright light, a brilliant light blossoming outwards to consume Beacon, and then … then after that, they had seen the airships leaving, flying away from Beacon and from Vale to where the grimm lurked. Amber didn't know what had happened; Tempest couldn't even begin to guess what had happened. But it seemed that the battle at Beacon was over, and now that they were back at Beacon, it was quiet, with none of the sounds of fighting at a distance that had beat upon their backs as they departed.

It was all quiet, and only the lights of Benni Havens' nearby gave any sign — beyond the evidence of their own eyes seeing the airships flying off — that the battle of Beacon had not ended with the grimm killing everyone and destroying everything. It was quiet enough for a dead place, but the lights of Benni Havens' told the truth, that the battle had been won, but all those who had won the battle had been called away to fight more battles, battles without end, battles that could never end because they fought a foe that did not rest.

"You should hide somewhere off the road," Bon Bon told Lightning Dust. "Benni might recognise you."

She didn't clarify who or what Benni might recognise Lightning Dust as, but from this and from the way that Lyra had reacted to her appearance, Amber could surmise that Lightning Dust was known as some sort of criminal or enemy, as someone that they should not be seen associating with.

Lightning Dust took the suggestion with equanimity, nodding her head as she slunk off; her black bodysuit, although marred with pipes and with a bulky backpack of some kind that bubbled and fizzed as liquid dust moved along the pipes, nevertheless blended in with the darkness and made her quickly disappear into the night.

That done, Amber led the way in the other direction, towards Benni Havens' itself, towards the light that emerged out of the diner. The others, all those who had been there with her when they had passed this way in the other direction, followed after her.

"Benni?" Lyra called out. "Benni, are you still in there?"

There was a moment's pause as the five of them stood outside the diner, before the door opened and Benni stepped out of the restaurant and took a step down the path towards them.

"Lyra?" She said. "Dove, Bon Bon … I know I told you to come back, but I didn't expect you to come back tonight."

"We … volunteered," Amber said. "To come back with a message, from…" She hesitated; they had never actually decided who, precisely, the message that they had been sent to deliver was from. "From Pyrrha. Pyrrha asked us to deliver a message."

"It might have come from someone higher up," Bon Bon added. "From General Ironwood or someone, just that Pyrrha was the one who was asked to pass it on to us."

"The grimm…" Dove began. "Ms Havens—"

"The defences aren't going to hold," Bon Bon said bluntly. "Any moment now, the grimm are going to batter through the lines, and there'll be no sealing the breach, no stopping them until they get to the walls of Vale. I'm sorry, but there isn't time to sugarcoat it, because Beacon isn't protected by the walls of Vale; it's outside of them, which means that when the grimm break through, and when everyone falls back, Beacon is going to be cut off, and there will be grimm heading this way up that road. You need to leave, Benni, while you still can."

Benni stared at them all. The shotgun in her hands fell to her side, clutched in only her artificial hand now. "The grimm are gonna break through?" she asked.

"That's the fear, yes," Dove murmured.

"And they're gonna come up here, and this time, there'll be no one to stop them because everyone is down there, is that what you're saying?" said Benni.

"I'm afraid so," replied Amber.

"About the long and short of it," Tempest added.

Benni hesitated. "I haven't been ordered to evacuate," she said. "I guess they forgot I exist."

"Are there still people in your restaurant?" asked Amber.

Benni shook her head. "Once the grimm were taken care of here, they were evacuated up to the Amity Arena. It's starting to look like maybe we should have joined them when we had the chance. But we didn't, so it's just me and Drake here now." She paused, turning around and looking back at the restaurant that bore her name. "Seventeen years of my life in this place," she muttered.

"It might be here when you get back," Dove said. "And even if it isn't, so long as you're alive, you can rebuild, right?"

Benni looked at him, a fond smile upon her face. "Maybe, yeah," she said. "You say this is happening now?"

"A … a new grimm has joined the battle," Dove said. "It's big, and it looks very dangerous. It might be too much for them."

Benni winced. "Are they … do you know if … is anyone … come on, are you gonna make me say it?"

"Everyone's fine, for now," Amber said, although she didn't know that for sure. She hoped that it was so, just as she hoped that it would give Benni some comfort to hear that it was so.

"'For now,'" Benni repeated. She cursed under her breath, and then cursed again more loudly so that everyone could hear it. "Okay," she said. "We'll go. I don't want to, but you're right; so long as we're alive, we can rebuild, reopen, and I can't ask Drake to stay here when…" She turned around and screamed at the restaurant. "Drake! Get in the van; we're leaving!"

A man's voice, a little husky, emerged from out of the diner. "What?"

"I said GET IN THE VAN, WE'RE LEAVING!"

"'Leaving'?"

"Yes, leaving, go!" Benni yelled. She turned to Amber and the others. "You kids want a ride down to Vale?"

"That's very kind of you, but we can't," Amber said. "We said that we'd look around the school and make sure there was no one else left behind."

"That's a brave thing to volunteer for, considering how afraid you were earlier," Benni pointed out.

"Not really," Amber replied. "We're not going to be here when the grimm arrive."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Benni. "How are you getting out?"

"If we're too late to take the road, then I'll call in an Atlesian airship," Tempest said quickly.

Benni nodded slowly. "I hope you don't rely on them only to get left hanging. Finish up quick and follow us down the road while you can; it's safer that way than trusting Atlas. No offence."

Tempest snorted. "None taken."

"We'll be as fast as we can," Dove promised.

"None of us wants to stay here any longer than we have to," added Amber.

"Smart of you," Benni said. She sighed. "If this place does get ripped apart by grimm, I expect you all to be my guests for the big reopening. And that's as much as I'll say about that, because it sounds like there isn't time for a long goodbye. Do what you need to do, do it fast, and I'll see you all on the other side."

Amber didn't reply. They would never see her again, after all, and though that was a pity, it was inevitable.

So long as it was the result of distance, not death.

"Be well," she whispered. "Take care."

Benni turned away and swiftly disappeared back into the restaurant.

"Who's Drake?" Amber asked.

"That's Benni's husband," Lyra explained. "You never see him because he does all the cooking."

"Ah, I see," Amber murmured, although she was a little surprised to discover that Benni didn't cook; mind you, it would explain how she spent so much time out in the restaurant.

It did not take very long at all before they heard the growling of an engine and a white van tore around the side of the diner from the back, tires cutting into the grass and churning up the earth, rear-end shooting behind it as it turned violently. It drove past Amber and the others, and Amber had the briefest impression of Benni waving at them out of the window before the van was racing down the road towards Vale as though a horde of grimm were behind it.

Or about to be in front of it, as the case maybe.

"Now that that little bit of civic responsibility has been taken care of," Tempest said, "perhaps now you'll show us the way to the Vault?"

Lightning Dust emerged out of the darkness. "It's all clear now, right?"

"Yes, she's gone," Tempest said. "We—"

"Are going, yes!" Amber cried. "I will show you, as I said I would; I will get it for you as I said I would!" And then I'll never have to have anything to do with you ever again. "Follow me."

"What about Ruby?" reminded Dove.

Tempest's hands twitched, forming the shapes of claws. "Oh, for the—"

"Yes, of course, Ruby," Amber said, although she felt a little of Tempest's irritation herself. But she had promised Dove that they would make sure she was alright, and it would make him happy, and it shouldn't even take too long.

They crept their way to the dormitory building; there were neither grimm nor fellow students to avoid, but Amber still wanted to keep the green lights of the Emerald Tower at a distance, far away. She wasn't sure if Ozpin had gone down to fight or was still here, but it would be just like him to sit in his tower, watching from afar while everyone else risked their lives in his war. That was how he had used her, after all, why should he use Pyrrha, or Sunset or Jaune or any of them any better?

No, she was sure that he would still be in his tower, and that was why she wanted to avoid it, lest his eyes fall upon her — upon them. If it did … her semblance would probably be their only chance; if she could put him to sleep before he could attack them, then all would be well, but if not, if they were drawn into a fight, then … then he would surely kill them all. Even her, especially her, he would not hesitate to kill her so that the Fall Maiden powers would pass to another, and his Relic, his Crown of Choice, would be safe from danger.

If they could get in and out while staying out of Ozpin's way, so much the better.

And so, Amber led them to the dormitory building via a route that took them nowhere near the tower, but they came to the courtyard nonetheless. The statue that had dominated the courtyard had been smashed, there were only stumps of the huntsmen and huntress remaining, only the beowolf statue remained intact. The building itself, behind the courtyard and the shattered statue, was more damaged than it had been when Amber and the others had departed. There were holes in the walls, the courtyard stone was scored by claw marks, the ruin of Beacon bore testimony to the ferocity of the battle for it.

But it was as they had said on the way: it was all just brick and stone, easily rebuilt, meaning nothing, signifying nothing. Nothing that had been done, nothing that the grimm had destroyed could not be undone.

In a year's time, it would be as if all this had never happened.

They entered the dorm itself, where Amber tried to ignore the bloodstains on the carpet as they climbed the stairs towards Team SAPR's dorm room. They found the room — the room that she had called home this past while — a mess since they had left it, the door smashed, the picture of the team at Benni Havens' smashed and trampled underfoot. Books had been torn to shreds, the pages scattered all over the floor, including, by the looks of it, Dove's book, The Song of Olivia, that he had given to Ruby.

The dorm room was a ruin, but there was no sign of Ruby herself. The closet, where they had left her, had been destroyed, a large hole burned in the wall, Pyrrha's dresses — those that survived — singed and burned, but no sign of Ruby.

Dove stepped towards the hole. "That … does that look like Penny's laser to you?"

"It could be," Amber said. "If it is, that means that they would have come here and found Ruby."

And they might have guessed that I'm the one who put her to sleep.

Never mind. I suppose it was all always going to come out eventually.

"Either way," Tempest said, "she isn't here."

Dove didn't reply to that. He ran one hand around the charred edges of the hole in the wall. "If they did find Ruby, then … they must have found her in some trouble for Penny to fire like this."

"I suppose so," Amber agreed. "But it means they saved her, regardless."

"Yes," Dove murmured. "At least I hope it does, and they would have gotten her away to somewhere safe."

"I hope that too," Amber said quietly.

Dove sighed. "I suppose there's no way to know for sure. We just have to hope, but I'm glad that we didn't find her still here." He paused before he turned back towards Amber. "Alright, let's get what we came here for."

"Finally!" said Tempest.

They descended the stairs quickly, feet pounding on the steps as they emerged out into the courtyard — and found Professor Ozpin waiting for them.

Amber's whole body went cold. She felt her grip upon her staff loosen, and the weapon almost dropped to the floor.

Ozpin.

He did not look ready to strike. The tip of his cane was on the ground, held in one hand; the other hand was clasped behind his back. His head was a little bowed — until he raised it and met her eyes, fixing them with his own dark eyes as they stared at her above his miniature spectacles.

He made no other movements, but Amber felt as though he were coiled like a spring, or like a snake, ready to strike at any moment.

Dove, brave Dove, sweet Dove, foolish Dove, half-stepped in front of her, one hand upon the hilt of his sword for all the good that it would do. Ozpin seemed to ignore him, looking right through him, just as he ignored everyone else with her as well.

"Amber," he said, in a voice that was hard to read, having no approval or disapproval in it.

Amber's heart was beating rapidly in her chest, she could feel it. Her hand shook as she held it out by her side and sent forth little golden motes of light to drift out from her hand towards Ozpin.

Ozpin tapped his cane upon the ground, and a shield of green light appeared around him for a moment, a bubble completely encasing him, separating him from the world. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"I'm afraid that your semblance doesn't work as quickly as it would need to, given that I'm expecting it," Ozpin said calmly. "I did warn you that, against an opponent who was alert and ready to fight, it was unlikely to serve you well."

"Warn me," Amber repeated. "Warn me? That was the warning that you gave me, that was what you warned me of, my semblance?! All the things you could have warned me of, you included, and you warned me about that? How was that warning supposed to keep me safe? How was that warning supposed to protect me?"

Ozpin didn't reply, he couldn't, he had no answer. All justice was on her side; he could not bring himself to deny a word of what she had said. Instead, he said, "When Miss Fall told me … when she told me that she had surmised what you had done, that you would give the Relic up to Salem in exchange for your freedom … I did not want to believe it. I did not believe it; I insisted that it could not be so. Even when Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina, and Mister Arc brought the unconscious Miss Rose to me and told me that, in their opinion, you had used your semblance to put her to sleep and thus evade her watch, I did not wish to think it could be true. I did not want to think that … do you hate me, Amber?"

"Should I not?" demanded Amber. "Have I not cause? Have you not done things to me deserving to be hated? Have you not caused me to suffer, to fear, to endure wounds and agonies? Did you not cause me to be scarred, to be separated from Dove, to be hunted? Why should you be surprised that I hate you? What have you done but give me cause to hate you?"

"And Miss Nikos?" asked Ozpin. "Miss Shimmer? Mister Arc? Miss Rose? Have they all given you cause to hate them also?"

"This has nothing to do with them," Amber replied.

"You have betrayed their trust," Ozpin said.

"And you'll use them up until they're dead; don't get all high and mighty with me!" Amber shrieked. She took a deep but ragged breath. "They're flowers to you, to be replaced with new ones when they start to wilt. I … I've lied to them, I admit it, but only because … I haven't hurt them, attacked them, killed them; I haven't done anything to them; I've only lied to them. And only because I had to, because otherwise … because they're loyal to you, even after everything you've done, everything you'll do, everything you are. I've only done what my own safety demanded."

"Your own safety," Ozpin repeated. "And for your safety, you are willing to risk … I confess I am disappointed in you."

"I don't care," Amber declared. "I don't care what you think of me."

Ozpin glanced away from Amber, towards Tempest and Bon Bon. "I've sometimes found myself curious," he said calmly. "How does one find oneself in Salem's service?"

"Who is Salem?" Lyra asked. "Bon Bon, who are they talking about?"

"I…" Bon Bon began, but fell silent.

"You don't know either, Miss Bonaventure?" Ozpin asked. "That is part of an answer at least. Miss Heartstrings, Mister Bronzewing, I take it that Amber and her friends have not been entirely honest with you?"

"Don't listen to him, Lyra; he's trying to trick you," Bon Bon said.

"On the contrary, Miss Bonaventure, I am trying to enlighten Miss Heartstrings with facts you seem to have kept to yourself — or had kept from you. You see, Miss Heartstrings, Miss Bonaventure, Miss Shadow, and Miss Dust serve a malevolent creature called Salem, who seeks to—"

"That's enough!" Bon Bon shouted, her armour creaking and clanking as she charged forward, swinging her morningstar towards Ozpin.

Ozpin shimmered in place, three Ozpins appearing before their eyes as the spiked ball of Bon Bon's morningstar flew harmlessly past his face. Ozpin brought his hand out from behind his back to grab the chain, clasping tight hold of it. He hauled back on it, spinning rapidly in place. Bon Bon was yanked off her feet with a wordless cry as Ozpin spun her around and slammed her into the cliff-like plinth that remained of the courtyard statue.

Now it was the plinth's turn to shatter in part as Bon Bon slammed into it, stone fragments flung left and right, a cloud of dust rising as half the plinth disappeared in a moment, transformed into a heap of rubble that half-buried Bon Bon underneath it.

"Bon Bon!" Lyra cried. Her fingers shook as she tried to pluck at the strings of her harp, the first few notes rising haltingly, awkwardly into the air.

Ozpin was on her in a flash; one moment, he was standing in front of them all, the next moment, he was right in front of Lyra, hitting her with his stick over and over and over again, his hand and cane moving so rapidly that Amber's eyes couldn't follow his movements, it was all a blur, he was a blur, and his blows almost flashed as he struck Lyra again and again and again and all too fast for any aid to reach her. Lyra cried out, her harp dropped from her hands, her arms spread out on either side of her as she was lifted up into the air by the sheer force of the repetitive blows that deluged her like a sudden rain descending from the heavens.

Dove fired two shots from his gun sword, but Ozpin deflected both of them with his cane without appearing to even for a second break the stride of his attack on Lyra, such was his speed. Dove charged at him, but he was too slow, so slow by comparison to Ozpin, it was like a snail trying to outrace a horse.

Lyra's aura broke, a pale green light rippling up and down her body, and instantly, Ozpin ceased his assault, stepping back from her, letting her fall to the ground with a thump and a cry of pain before he turned his attention on Dove.

Dove slashed at Ozpin with his sword, Ozpin parried with his cane, then reversed it to hit Dove in the face with the metal handle. Dove recoiled, and Ozpin hit him twice more, a second time in the face and then in the belly, making him double over. Ozpin's cane lashed out to strike Dove in the leg next, in the back of the knee, forcing him to the ground before Ozpin hit—

The blow didn't land, because Amber had stepped between Dove and Ozpin, parrying his stroke with Sapphire, her simple wooden staff barring the path of his ornate cane.

"No more!" Amber cried. "I won't let you hurt anyone else."

Ozpin's face was impassive. He took half a step backwards, raising his cane for another strike.

Amber attacked, hurling herself upon him like the storm upon the mountain. Sapphire was a blur in her hand as she whirled the wood before her, tracing elaborate patterns through the air as she struck at Ozpin from the left, the right, above, below. She called upon her magic, she let the corona of the Fall Maiden burn in her eye as fire burned at the tip of her staff.

Ozpin fell back before her, parrying her strokes, cane and staff striking with thwack after resounding thwack. Ozpin fell back, and Amber pursued him, her movements a blur, just as his had been a moment before when he’d attacked poor Lyra. But she wasn’t Lyra, she was faster, stronger, she was the Fall Maiden, and she would break through any moment now. She could do this. She would do this. She’d already fought the grimm, she’d killed the grimm, she’d been the Fall Maiden — not the coward that Ozpin wanted, the real Fall Maidens as they were of old — once tonight already; she could fight, she could kill, she could bring him down; after all, he’d taught her—

Everything she knew.

Not, as it turned out, everything he knew.

Ozpin parried and parried, he took her blows upon his cane, always blocking, always halting her attacks. The flames from the tip of her staff troubled him not, they never came near him, he shimmered away, he became a blur, and the flames passed by him without harming him. Amber gritted her teeth, growling in anger like the grimm she had laid low as she twirled in place and unleashed a torrent of flame upon him out of her hand, but he conjured up a shield to surround him.

Amber spun her staff and drove it, tip first, like a spear towards the shield, concentrating some of her aura at the staff’s end to penetrate Ozpin’s shield like a lance.

The shield disappeared, but Ozpin moved so swiftly to parry her staff and counter, forcing Amber back before she was struck.

Amber unleashed fire again, a wave of flame to cover her retreat and give her time to recover. Maybe if Salem’s agents were to help her in any way—

Ozpin conjured up another shield, but this time, the shield moved; it surrounded him as shield and man alike flew forward, passing through the flames to slam into Amber like a cannonball.

Amber was knocked backwards, off her feet. Ozpin’s shield dissolved, and then he attacked her, striking her with his cane again and again, so swiftly that she couldn’t respond, could barely think to respond.

She dropped to the ground, her aura flaring in pain. Ozpin stood over her, looming, menacing, staff raised above his head.

Amber let out a wordless whimper, a cry of fear and pain as she covered her face, her scarred face, with both hands, curling up into a ball.

Ozpin hesitated. He stood over her, his cane raised up, but he did not strike.

“Amber,” he whispered.

A sob passed from Amber’s lips. She waited for the blow to fall.

It did not.

Instead, the cane descended in Ozpin’s hands, falling to his side.

“Amber,” he repeated. A sigh escaped him. “All your failings as a Maiden,” he said, “and as a daughter, are my failings as a teacher … and as a father. Amber, I am so sorry. Would there was any way that I could ask your forgiveness.”

Amber’s fingers twitched. She shifted her hand a little as she lay upon the cold, hard, battle-scarred ground, and once more, she used her semblance.

Once more, the golden motes of light began to rise from the palm of her hand, and this time, Ozpin did not shield himself. He did nothing as the golden lights rose in the air, surrounding him. He did nothing except let his eyes flicker and droop until his old bones collapsed to the ground beside Amber like a great old tree fallen by the storm.

Amber closed her eyes. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

She rose onto her hands and knees. “Lyra?” she asked. “Dove?”

“I’m fine,” Dove said. “My aura didn’t break. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be more help.”

“It’s fine,” Amber said. “It’s fine, I … I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better.”

“You did enough,” Dove assured her. “You did more than enough. You won.”

Amber got up. “Lyra?”

“I’m okay,” Lyra groaned. “My aura’s broken, but I’m not hurt. He didn’t … he stopped. It was like he didn’t want to hurt me, just break my aura.”

“You were lucky,” Tempest declared, stepping lightly across the courtyard to stand over the slumbering Ozpin.

“And you were absent,” Amber pointed out.

“Everything moved so fast,” Tempest murmured, without even looking in Amber’s direction. She cocked her head to one side as she looked down at Ozpin.

“Behold the great Professor Ozpin,” she said, “considered a hero by many.” She knelt down astride him, and with one hand, she reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a blood red handkerchief.

With her other hand, she prised open Ozpin’s mouth.

“What are you doing?” Amber demanded.

“What our safety demands,” Tempest said as she stuffed the handkerchief down Ozpin’s throat.

“No!” Lyra cried. “No, stop that, you’ll kill him.”

“Very astute of you,” Tempest said.

“Stop it!” Lyra shouted, starting forwards toward Tempest and Ozpin, only to be stopped by Bon Bon, who extricated herself from the rubble of the statue in time to grab Lyra by the shoulders and hold her back.

“Let go of me!” Lyra demanded, trying and failing to wrestle free of Bon Bon’s grip. “Bon Bon, what are you doing? Amber! Amber, you have to stop this!”

Amber didn’t reply. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t do anything, she watched as Tempest rammed that handkerchief down Ozpin’s throat, cutting off his air supply.

His aura was still intact, but that wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t breathe. It would kill him as surely as no aura and a knife through the heart.

He’ll die.

He’s going to die.

“Uncle Ozpin, Uncle Ozpin, did you bring me a present?”

“Tempest,” Amber murmured. “There’s no need for this.”

“I disagree,” Tempest said. “If he wakes up—”

“He isn’t going to wake up.”

“If he wakes up,” Tempest repeated, “then we could be in for a lot of trouble. Best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Tell me about Vale, Uncle Ozpin. Tell me everything!”

“Everything? We’ll be here a long time if you expect me to tell you everything.”

He filled my days with endless wonder.

“You will finally get to see Vale, Amber, if perhaps not in the circumstances that you or I wished … or expected.”

“I’ll have to leave here … forever?”

“I’m afraid so, my dear.”

He took my childhood in his stride.

“What is this? What’s happened to me? Why can I do these things, why do I dream these things? What am I?”

“You are the Fall Maiden, inheritor of a magic passed down from your mother and generations upon generations of exceptional women who have come before.”

Then he was gone when autumn came.

Amber bit her lip. “Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

Tempest ignored her. She held the handkerchief down, blocking Ozpin’s airway.

Amber could stop this. She could attack Tempest, she could burn the handkerchief, she could fling her enemies with her magic.

She could save Ozpin.

If she wished.

He made my life a hell.

He made me a weapon in his war.

He took my dreams from me, my life, my summer, my joy and laughter and happiness.

I loved him once.

He loved his Fall Maiden that was to come, but he never loved me.

Or did he?

If he loved me, then why did he treat me this way?

But I loved him once.

Once. But now…

“Amber?” Lyra repeated insistently. “Amber, are you just … are you just going to stand there?”

“I’m sorry,” Amber whispered, to Ozpin more than to Lyra. “I’m sorry.”

Lyra continued to protest, continued to struggle, while Amber watched, watched in silence and remembered, until Tempest put two fingers to Ozpin’s neck and said, “It’s done.”

“'Done'?” Lyra said, pulling herself away from Bon Bon. “Done, you mean dead? Dead because you murdered him?”

“Calm down, Lyra,” Bon Bon said.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Lyra snapped. “You said that … first you said that we were going to rescue Amber from Ozpin, and then it turns out that we need to get this thing that we can give to someone else, and just who is Salem, huh? What is this thing, and what was Ozpin going to tell me that you had to attack him just to shut him up? And then … he was defenceless! He was asleep on the floor, and you murdered him. This … this isn’t…” Lyra’s breathing was shallow, and very rapid. “And this grimm attack too, it—”

“Lyra—”

“Don’t 'Lyra' me; I don’t know who you are!” Lyra shouted into Bon Bon’s face. She took a step back. “I don’t know you. Did I ever know you?”

“Lyra,” Amber said softly. “Please, I know that this is difficult, and I would love to explain everything to you, but right now, we don’t have time.”

“But you have time for this?” Lyra asked. “Time to watch as … how could you? How could you just stand there and watch as … as that!”

“If you knew what he had done to me,” Amber replied, “you wouldn’t ask that.”

Lyra stared at her, eyes wide. “I … I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I wanted to help you, but this … it’s too much. Dove, Dove, you have to see that this has gone too far, you have to.”

“Ordinarily, I would,” Dove allowed. “But Ozpin? Amber’s right, if you knew what he had done—”

“It doesn’t matter what he’d done; he was helpless on the floor!” Lyra shouted.

“He was our enemy,” Tempest said, getting to her feet. “Is that a category that you’d like to put yourself in also?”

Amber said, “There’s no need—”

“I won’t let the success of this operation be put in jeopardy by someone finding their conscience,” Tempest snapped. “If you’re not with us, you’re against us, and if you’re against us—”

“You’ll kill me too?” Lyra asked.

“No!” Bon Bon said. “No, that’s not—”

“Yes,” Tempest said calmly. “That’s it exactly.”

Lyra swallowed. She said nothing. She didn’t do anything, and for a moment, Amber hoped that all would be well, that Lyra would calm down and that there would be time to properly explain things to her.

Then she turned and ran, heading off into the night, her gaudy cloak of many colours flapping behind her.

“Lyra!” Bon Bon shouted. She glanced at the others. “I’ll—”

“You stay where you are!” Tempest snarled. “We have played nice for long enough. Lightning! Handle her!”

Lightning smirked. “With pleasure,” she growled before she set off in pursuit.

“And you,” Tempest added, rounding on Amber. “No more delays; take us to the Vault of the Fall Maiden, or your deal is done, and you can spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder; do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Amber said, reminding herself that, very soon, this would all be over, and she would never have to deal with Tempest ever again. “Yes, I understand. Don’t worry; I’ll take you there now.”

Author's Note

Ozpin's death in the original was not one of the most brilliant moments of the story. I'm not going to claim that this is brilliant either but it does at least have the virtue of clarity, I think: Ozpin dies because of his love for Amber, the same flaw that has dogged him (and other characters as well, in fairness) previously in the story, not least when he refused to accept that Cinder might be onto something with her accusation.

A Note on a Lyre (New)

A Note on a Lyre

The mood among the senior officers had barely begun, and yet already, with few words exchanged, there was noticeable lack of the optimism that had characterised their last discussion, before the appearance of the dragon.

Understandable, in the circumstances.

Colonel Palmer was dead. He had died on the Ardent, killed along with the entire ship’s company. Damn shame.

Every soldier lost tonight is a damn shame. Every single one.

With his death, command of the Third Squadron had passed to Major Aegean Pulleine, of the infantry element. Colonel Harper and Colonel Buller were both still living, thank the gods, and remained in command of their respective units.

“Report,” Ironwood said.

“The grimm have renewed their advance and pushed us back from our initial defensive positions,” Major Pulleine began, his voice was a little scratchy, mature, the voice of a somewhat old major, someone whose faunus nature had possibly held him back from promotion. “Some units are conducting a fighting retreat, others are … in retreat. I’ve ordered the colours brought forward to try and rally the troops and form a new line.”

“You’ll lose the standards if you bring them forward,” Colonel Harper declared bluntly. “General, I’ve ordered mine to the rear, in the care of two huntresses, Lulamoon and Silverband.”

“I see,” Ironwood said, without comment.

Colonel Harper had made what she believed to be the best decision in the circumstances, and as he wasn’t there and was reliant upon his officers to tell him what was going on right in front of them, he wasn’t about to contradict her on such a minor question. Yes, if the battle had been going better, then he might have made some comment on the message sent by sending the colours to the rear to prevent their loss, but as anyone with a pair of eyes could see that the battle had taken a turn for the worse, he wasn’t about to tell Harper that she’d made the wrong decision.

Mind you, he wasn’t about to criticise Pulleine either. Attempting to rally on the colours was a risk to the standards, but it might also work, and if the battle was turned around because of it, no one would care that he had put the colours at risk.

Having said all of that, he couldn’t deny that Harper had made good choices on who to entrust the colours to. Lulamoon and Silverband; they would keep them safe, if anyone could.

“Can I take it, Harper, that you don’t think the situation can be salvaged?” he asked.

“Sir, the grimm have breached the line in two places; I’ve had to order a withdrawal off the ramparts to avoid elements being surrounded; the grimm are too close, the ground is too poor, and we no longer enjoy air superiority,” Harper declared. “The Green Line is lost, and to be frank, I’m not sure how much longer I can protect Buller’s flank.”

“In which case, I will be attacked on both flanks, sir,” Buller said. “We’re still holding our ground to the front, for now — it helps that we still have all of our cruisers intact — but the grimm are starting to come out of the Emerald Forest, just as you feared they would.”

“I see,” Ironwood said. “In what strength?”

“I’ve had to move a second platoon to reinforce the first against them,” Buller replied.

“Right,” Ironwood replied. “Cunningham, what’s the position of the dragon?” He wanted his command officers to be able to hear the response.

“It’s circling over Wre-Wrec… over the large hill a few miles in front of the Green Line, sir,” Cunningham replied. “It looks like it’s headed for the right flank, going for the Beacon and Haven students.”

And Penny. Ironwood’s jaw tightened for a moment. “And Schnee, what’s the status of the Zhenyuan?”

“Colonel Sky Beak has ordered the ship to take up position over the great gate and hold there,” Winter answered him. “I didn’t think it was my place to contradict those orders after the immediate crisis was resolved.”

“No, that’s fine,” Ironwood said.

The Zhenyuan wasn’t his ship, after all, and Winter could hardly claim to have taken it when the entire fiction of this night was that any conflict between the Valish and the Atlesian had been the result of a madness temporarily experienced by General Blackthorn.

Besides, considering what had happened to his own ships, it was doubtful that the old battleship would have been able to stand against the dragon in any event.

His grip on his own hands, clasped behind his back, became firmer, so firm that it was almost painful for his remaining organic hand.

A look at the displays in front of him made for a more disturbing sight than had earlier confronted him, the white Atlesian lines pierced by bulges of black, the line itself no longer a line and more of a scattering of points, some of them in grave danger of being cut off.

Harper was right, the grimm were too close; they couldn’t reform under these circumstances.

The ground was not good, unfortunately; if the Green Line was lost, then there wasn’t a convenient position to reestablish the defences anywhere between there and the walls of Vale itself. The people who had founded Vale, while they had situated it well from the perspective of being on a peninsula, secured by the sea on three sides — and that by a sea too shallow for large aquatic grimm — had failed when it came to finding a place with natural defences on the landward side. The ground was too flat, nothing but fields and the occasional hamlet until you reached the outer limits of the city, and the urban environment would favour the grimm as it broke up the Atlesian formation.

There was nothing for it but to fall back all the way to the walls, give up the surroundings and the outer districts, and make their stand on the Red Line.

A shot rang out over the comm.

“Report!” Ironwood demanded.

“Sorry, sir,” Harper said. “But the grimm are getting pretty close.”

“Understood.” Ironwood said. He took a breath. “All units are to conduct a staggered retreat by platoons to the Beacon Road, at or by which point, all three battalions will present a single line facing the enemy.”

A staggered retreat was one of the more superficially simple manoeuvres in the drill manual: half the platoon would fall back one hundred yards, covered by fire from the other half of the platoon, then halt and provide covering fire to the troops behind them who would then fall back past the new firing line, halt and so on, the two halves of the unit leapfrogging backwards, covering one another as they went. Simple to order, a little harder to pull off in battle, it was easy for any retreat to turn into a rout in the wrong circumstances.

But if any troops could pull it off, even under wretched circumstances, his could.

As for the Beacon Road, which — as the name suggested — was the road leading up to the school, there was nothing particularly defensible about it, but it was a major landmark, a reasonable distance away from the grimm, and a point that all units would have to pass as they retreated. There was no point stipulating a point that some companies would miss or misidentify.

“Once the three battalions have formed a line,” he went on, “all units will continue to retreat to Vale’s Red Line, where you will join the Valish in defending the city walls. I’ll coordinate your dispositions with Colonel Sky Beak. I’m sure some of you would prefer to evacuate by air, but I want you to continue bleeding the grimm for as long as possible. Make them pay for every step. The more we can weaken them before they reach the Red Line, the better for Vale.”

“Understood, sir,” replied Harper.

Of course, withdrawing past the Beacon Road would mean exposing said road to the grimm, along with a way for them to launch another attack on Beacon. An attack that would succeed, since Beacon had only Ozpin left to defend it. That was … less than ideal.

But, if Ironwood was right about the intentions of the grimm, then they weren’t actually interested in the school, only in keeping people away from it.

And we will certainly be kept away once the grimm have cut the road.

Oz, it will be up to you.

He would have to make sure Oz knew that. Maybe he could risk the Skyrays and send some reinforcements to support him, some of the Beacon students, if Oz wished, or … he would have to let the old man know; he couldn’t just leave him on his own without a word.

As for the Beacon students, and the Haven students, and the Mistralians…

“Schnee,” Ironwood said. “Extract your squad from the Zhenyuan and head for the Mistralian position, find Polemarch Yeoh, and make sure she knows that our line is breached and our units are falling back; she should do the same. And pass the order to Ebi’s team to reinforce the Fourth Battalion in the centre of the line.”

“Yes, sir,” Schnee replied.

“What if we can hold them on the Beacon Road, sir?” asked Buller.

“I don’t think that’s likely, Colonel,” Ironwood replied. “If you reach the road and find that the grimm attack can be repulsed, then inform me immediately, but if not, then my orders stand.”

“Understood, sir,” Buller replied.

“What if the dragon comes back, sir?” asked Harper.

“Then I hope that Captain Ebi and his team will have better luck in dealing with it than our ships,” Ironwood said. “It’s not a good answer, Harper, I’m aware, but it’s the best I have for you at this time.”

There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of another gunshot. “Very well, sir. Thank you for your candour.”

“Tell the troops,” Ironwood said. “Tell the troops that we aren’t beaten yet. So long as we protect the walls of Vale, that is a victory.”

“And … can we protect the walls of Vale, sir?” asked Pulleine.

“Yes!” Ironwood declared. “Our ships may not have been sufficient, but our huntsmen haven’t been tested yet, and I don’t believe that they’ll let us down; I know they won’t. Tell the troops to put their faith in the Specialists; they won’t let them down. That’s all, good luck and gods go with you.”

“Yes, sir,” said Pulleine.

“Acknowledged, sir,” answered Harper.

“Thank you, sir,” said Buller.

“Ironwood out,” Ironwood said, before he drew in a deep breath.

He glanced around the bridge. Nobody spoke, but the atmosphere was tense. Tense and a little brittle. The sudden appearance of the dragon, its dismantling of the cruiser battleline, it had put all the officers on edge. It had stolen their confidence away, devoured it, or blasted it like it had blasted the Ardent to atoms.

“I know that things have just gotten a lot tougher,” Ironwood said. “But they could be worse.”

“How?” asked one of the marines on guard.

Ironwood could have quite cheerfully strangled him. “We could be short on ammunition,” he said. “But we won’t run out of bullets, at least, or shells, or missiles. Wherever we make our stand, we’ll have plenty to shoot at the grimm. That’s something for us all to take comfort in. We may be losing, for now, but that doesn’t mean that we’ve lost. It just means that we need to work a little harder to turn the situation around, but we will turn it around. The reason the Valish established the Green Line was as an advanced position, and the reason they built the Red Line was as somewhere to retreat to if the situation was serious. The defences of our allies are working exactly as intended.

“Des Voeux, put me through to the Amity Colosseum.”

“Yes, sir. Hailing them now.”

There was a pause of three seconds, approaching four, before Ironwood heard Twilight’s voice coming through to the CIC.

“Um, hello?” Twilight said. “Amity Colosseum here, how can I help you?”

“Twilight?” Ironwood said.

“General Ironwood?” Twilight squawked, her voice rising. “What are you—?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have much time; I need you to listen carefully,” Ironwood told her. “The battle is not going so well, and the Arena’s current position may not be safe, so I need you to move the Colosseum away from Beacon and into the airspace above Vale. Do you understand?”

“I understand what you’re asking,” Twilight replied. “But I don’t know—”

“I have faith in your ability to figure it out,” Ironwood told her. “The controls should be inside the Arena, somewhere near the main reactors. It isn’t possible to get a crew up there, Twilight; you’re the only person who can do this.”

Twilight laughed nervously. “No pressure then,” she muttered. “Um … how bad … never mind. Don’t tell me, I don’t … alright, sir, I’ll do it. Somehow.”

“That’s my girl,” Ironwood said. “Once you get started, I’m sure you’ll find it’s easier than you think.”

“That’d be nice,” Twilight said. “I should probably start right away, and I’m sure you’re very busy, sir.”

“I’m afraid so,” Ironwood said. “Goodbye, Twilight.”

“Goodbye, sir, and good luck.”

“Sir,” des Voeux said. “It’s Cadet Rainbow Dash on the line for you; she says it’s urgent.”

Rainbow fired her shotgun into a beringel's face. It wasn't enough to blow the grimm's head clean off, but it did stagger the large creature for a second, in which second Rainbow had reversed her grip on Undying Loyalty and started to club the beringel with the butt of the weapon.

She roared wordlessly as she slammed the stock squarely into the beringel's bone forehead, once, twice; the beringel recoiled, staggering backwards. Rainbow hit it a third time and knocked the grimm on its backside, leaving it sitting like a child on the floor with no toys. Rainbow drew back her shotgun and thrust it, butt first, at the beringel for the fourth time.

The grimm caught the blow, one meaty hand wrapping around Rainbow's wrist to pick her up clean off the floor. Rainbow swung her body forwards, planting a kick with both feet squarely into the beringel's chest. The beringel let her go. Rainbow pushed off the grimm's chest, still with both feet, backflipping through the air to land nimbly, facing the beringel that still sat on the grass.

It started to get up.

Too slow; Rainbow rushed it, the rainbow flying out behind her as she leapt off the ground, Undying Loyalty held in one hand now, her other fist drawn back.

There was a crack in the bone of the beringel's mask, and Rainbow aimed her punch there as she soared through the beringel's guard and landed her punch right where she wanted it.

The beringel's bone mask cracked and shattered, fragments fell to the ground before they turned to ash. Smoke began to rise from the beringel's body as it slumped down onto its back.

Rainbow landed, reaching for some more shells for her—

She barely saw the boarbatusk coming. It was moving too fast, spinning round and round in a black blur of motion, it barely registered in the corner of Rainbow's eye before it had slammed into her side and sent her sprawling to the ground.

The boarbatusk didn't attack after that, though it could have almost certainly gotten at least one more hit in before Rainbow could recover. Instead, it sprinted past her, heading for the white tent of the aid station.

Rainbow surged up from the ground, and again, she left a rainbow running out behind her as she overtook the boarbatusk and grabbed it from behind with both hands, wrestling it to the ground.

The boarbatusk squealed and thrashed in her grip, wriggling and writhing and kicking with its little legs, shaking its head from side to side as it struggled to get out from Rainbow's grasp and under her body.

I'll bet you wish you'd taken care of me first now, aren't you? Rainbow thought as she clung onto the boarbatusk, her arms wrapped around its fat neck, squeezing it as she dug her fingers into the grimm's black, oily flesh. The boarbatusk was bristlier than some grimm; it had hairs growing in between its bony armour plates that felt almost sharp, and certainly itchy, and all the while at the same time slippery and slimy like a … like a greased pig.

Like the greased pig at the Canterlot County Fair that Applejack had bet Rainbow that she wouldn't be able to hold onto without it slipping away, but who was laughing when Rainbow stood up, victorious and covered in mud from head to toe, huh?

Applejack. Applejack had been laughing, and so had everyone else. Except Rarity, she'd been too aghast at what a mess Rainbow had become.

Nobody was going to laugh if Rainbow Dash let go of this boarbatusk; nobody was going to laugh if she kept hold of it either, but at least they wouldn't be screaming or crying or anything else.

Behind the aid station, a Skyray lifted off into the night sky. Instead of the usual metallic of the Atlesian airships, this Skyray was painted white, with the symbol of the staff and that knotted star on it. They'd been using other Skyrays for the evacuation as well, to hurry it along beyond what the medical frigates' own airships had capacity for.

Rainbow hoped, as she clung onto the struggling boarbatusk, that the medical frigates had been moved to safety over Vale; it would be a fine thing if the dragon were to get at the medical ships and all their patients after all this.

Or at all.

With Flash, and Neon, and everyone else. They needed to survive. They needed to get their wounds patched up, and their prosthetics, so that they could…

Rainbow gritted her teeth. She would rather think about this grimm that she had hold of, steadily tightening her grip around its neck, her muscular arms drawing tighter and tighter like a noose, her fingers digging deeper into its skin whilst it squealed and writhed and kicked and bucked, than she would think about what life would be like for Flash and Neon after all this was over.

Because at least they would have lives, and as the General showed, even if people looked at you funny and whispered behind your back, it didn't stop you from heading all the way to the top.

Rainbow's biceps bulged as she squeezed harder.

They were both gonna make it, Flash and Neon; their stories weren't going to end here, not in that … the image of Neon's body lying on the ground flashed through Rainbow's mind; for a moment, she'd thought that Neon was dead, and that Ciel was only trying to save the body. It was only a twitching of what was left of Neon's tail that told Rainbow she was still alive.

But she was alive, and she was going to make it, and so was Flash. They would both have better days ahead of them — so long as the medical frigates were kept safe from harm.

And so long as Neon got off the ground here, before the aid station was overrun.

Maybe she already had. Rainbow hadn't checked. It wasn't important to check. They had to hold until everyone got off.

The boarbatusk's neck gave way before her arms, her hands, her tightening grip; the black skin of the grimm burst, the bristling hide collapsing as Rainbow pulled the boarbatusk's head off and threw it away. She let go of the lifeless body as she stood up, breathing heavily.

The white medical Skyray was gone, flown off to safety, but another Skyray — this one an ordinary airship, with no paint on it at all — was already landing. A medical orderly in blue scrubs stuck their head out of the tent.

"This is the last airship!" he said. "We're getting the last patients out, but there's room for you and your friends as well!"

Rainbow shook her head. "We'll fall back with the rest of the unit."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Rainbow said. "Get outta here and take care of everyone."

The orderly nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

"Part of the job," Rainbow said, turning away and taking a couple of steps back to recover Undying Loyalty. She'd dropped it when the boarbatusk knocked her flying.

Rainbow bent down to pick up the weapon, only for a beowolf to fly over her head, the hook of Gambol Shroud buried in its chest.

Blake appeared above the injured grimm, dropping on it from above to cut the beowolf's head off with her cleaver.

"I thought I was going to hit you for a second," she observed, as she landed on the ground. "What did the doctor want?"

"To tell me we're almost done," Rainbow replied. "The last—" She was interrupted as the Skyray that had only landed a second ago took off, rising up again into the night sky.

A nevermore shrieked as it soared overhead, making a beeline straight for the Skyray and its complement of wounded and medical staff, but it was intercepted by a Sky Dart that took it out with three shots from its laser.

The Skyray headed off, unmolested.

"That was the last one," Rainbow said. "We're…" She trailed off for a second. "Ciel! Sun! Where did you leave Sun?" she asked as she walked towards the tent.

"Where the airships were landing, in case any grimm slipped through that way," Blake replied.

Rainbow reached the tent in a few quick strides and thrust her head inside, just to make sure that there was nobody who had been accidentally left behind; that would be bad enough, but it would be even worse if Rainbow and the others left them behind too because they didn't think to check and make sure.

Thankfully, the medical teams had done their jobs properly, and the aid station tent was completely empty when Rainbow looked inside.

She pulled her head out of the tent to find that Ciel had joined them, and Sun jogged around the side of the tent as well.

"That was it," Rainbow said. "The evacuation is complete; everyone is away. We did it."

Ciel let out a ragged sigh of relief. She bent an inch forward at the waist, like she might double over, before straightening her back as abruptly as it had bent. "Lady be praised," she whispered.

"Ciel," Blake murmured, reaching out tentatively towards her, her mouth open, her eyebrows making a hill. "About Neon, I'm sorry."

"She isn't dead yet; there is no need to be sorry!" Ciel snapped. She took a deep breath. "My apologies; your sympathies are appreciated, but—"

"But let's save all of this for later, huh?" Rainbow asked. There would be a time for Ciel to let it all out, a time when Rainbow would positively encourage her to let it all out, but that time wasn't right now. Right now, if Ciel wanted to hold it all in, then … then that was actually a good thing in the circumstances.

Rainbow reloaded Undying Loyalty as she looked around the battlefield. The Third's line had been broken, just as Rainbow had thought that it would be; most of the battalion had fallen back, at least as far as Rainbow could tell; the flank wasn't completely open yet, mostly because there were at least some units that were trying to keep holding hands with Fourth Battalion, and that was maintaining at least some kind of a line between the aid station and the grimm, just as the Fourth Battalion — though it was retreating — wasn't retreating so fast that the wounded had been left stranded. But it was a line that maybe existed more firmly on a screen on the Valiant in some places than it did on the ground; the lines of both battalions had holes in them, gaps between companies and platoons as order frayed.

They had been lucky that few really big grimm had come through those gaps — and even luckier that the dragon was somewhere else right now — but enough grimm had slipped through the holes in the Altesian line to keep them busy.

Now, as the fighting came closer, both units retreating backwards towards Vale and probably the First doing the same thing over to the left, there would still be enough to keep them busy.

"Ciel," Rainbow said, "stay here for now; the rest of us will—"

"You have a call, Rainbow Dash," Midnight piped up before Rainbow could finish. "From Lyra Heartstrings."

"'Lyra'?" Rainbow repeated. Lyra? Lyra? Lyra was calling her?

Lyra was calling her, and after the last that they'd heard of her was that she was with Amber and Bon Bon.

That was what the woman running the restaurant had said to Penny and the others when they had a quick look for Amber. Amber had left Beacon via the road that led to Vale, and with her had been Tempest, Bon Bon, Dove … and Lyra.

Lyra, who was now calling Rainbow Dash.

There was no better way to find out why than to take the call, and the circumstances meant that it might be kind of important to find out why, so, in spite of the other circumstances going on not too far away, Rainbow said, "Put her on, Midnight."

"She's on line one, Miss Dash," Midnight said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice that Rainbow couldn't be bothered to deal with at the moment.

She had other things to think about right now.

Like Lyra, whose voice emerged out of the scroll and into the night to reach not only Rainbow's ears but Blake's, Ciel's, and Sun's as well.

"Rainbow Dash?" she asked, her voice trembling; she was speaking kind of quietly, not whispering but sort of muffling her voice; it sounded like she wanted to shout but was afraid to make that much noise. "Rainbow Dash is that you?"

"Yes," Rainbow said at once. "Yeah, Lyra, I'm here. Where—?"

"Oh, thank the gods!" Lyra exclaimed quietly. "I— I didn't know who else to call, I didn't know what to do but then I thought that you would know what's going on because I've seen you with Team Sapphire and Team Sapphire was always with Amber and besides you always seemed to know what to do back at Canterlot, that's why we all looked up to you, they said that even when the White Fang attacked the Councillor's wedding you didn't—"

"Lyra," Rainbow interrupted her. "Lyra, calm down, okay. It's going to be okay, just calm down. What's going on? Is Amber with you?" Maybe she'd had a change of heart, decided that actually, no, she didn't want to help Salem out at all, she didn't want to betray Pyrrha or Ciel.

Although why would Lyra sound so on edge in that case?

"Professor Ozpin's dead," Lyra whimpered. "They killed him. I saw it, I was right there."

"What?" Sun cried. "Someone killed the headmaster?"

"Who is that?"

"No one, no one important," Rainbow said, holding up a hand towards Sun to get him to be quiet. "Don't worry about that, Lyra, just … he's dead? Are you sure about that?"

"I was right there!" Lyra repeated, her voice rising despite what seemed like her best efforts. "He, he tried to stop us, and he broke my aura, but then Amber used her semblance on him, I think, and he fell asleep and then … and then Tempest killed him. She suffocated him. And I tried to stop it but Bon Bon wouldn't let me and Amber just stood there and she didn't do anything and I … I'm so sorry, Rainbow Dash, I thought we were doing the right thing, I … she told me that we were doing the right thing but then… I'm so sorry."

"It's…" Rainbow trailed off for a second.

Professor Ozpin was dead? That was … Rainbow couldn't claim to have any kind of closeness with the guy — though this was going to be a kick in the teeth for Sunset when she found out about it, not to mention … did any of the other members of Team SAPR like the guy at all anymore? She couldn't remember, but it was definitely going to hurt Sunset — but even so, he'd been the headmaster of Beacon and the leader of the fight against Salem, and now he was dead? Killed by Tempest? Not just that he was dead, but that he'd been killed by an Atlesian, one of her classmates.

The world is going to be different tomorrow, isn't it?

Apart from anything else, someone would have to step up and lead the fight against Salem now. It should be General Ironwood, by all rights, but maybe … maybe Professor Ozpin's group had other ideas, maybe they'd put Ruby's uncle in charge, or Professor Theodore from Shade; he was a couple of years older than General Ironwood, if Rainbow had it right, not that that should make any difference.

Or maybe Professor Goodwitch would take over Beacon and the battle.

Not that any of that mattered so much right now. That was tomorrow's business. Tonight…

"It's okay," Rainbow said, because whether that was strictly true or not, it would help Lyra to hear it. "It's going to be okay, Lyra. Where are you?"

"I'm at Beacon," Lyra said. "We came here to get … Bon Bon said there was something that Amber could use to bargain for her safety, but … I ran off after … I've almost reached the road. I think someone might be after me." She paused for half a moment. "I'm pretty scared right now."

"It's going to be okay," Rainbow said. "Lyra, it's going to be fine, but don't use the road — that's the obvious place to look for you — I need you to … head for the cliffs, okay? Head for the cliffs, then circle back around to the forge and hide there until I come get you. Lyra, this thing that Amber could use, did they have it when you left?"

"No," Lyra said. "We hadn't—" She shrieked in pain, no words just a loud cry, louder than anything she'd said before.

And then that was gone too, and there was only silence. Silence that lingered in the night air, hovering between them and over them and all around them, enclosing them in a little world, cut off from the battle raging around them.

"Lyra?" Rainbow asked. "Lyra, are you still there?"

"I've lost the connection," Midnight said.

"Call her back!" Rainbow snapped.

Lyra, why did you have to get involved in this?

Bon Bon, why did you have to get her involved in this? I can't understand why you'd want to be involved in this, but if you had to be involved, couldn't you at least have kept Lyra out of it?

Lyra, why did you have to be a huntress in the first place? She hadn't been cut out for it; she didn't have the chops for it, the feel for fighting. She was sweet and nice and likeable, and she had a halfway useful semblance, Rainbow would admit, but she wasn't a huntress. She had no place in all of this; she hadn't belonged in it. She hadn't even belonged at Beacon, let alone getting involved in all of this stuff with Salem and Maidens and Relics.

And now … now, she might be dead

She might be dead, along with Professor Ozpin.

"There's no response," Midnight said. "I can't reach her device."

Rainbow closed her eyes for a second. Lyra. She wouldn't say that they'd ever been close, but she'd played a pretty harp, and there'd been nothing to dislike about her that Rainbow had been aware of. She hadn't deserved to get caught up in this, to pay that price.

And unfortunately, that was the least of things to be concerned about right now.

"So it is true," Ciel murmured. "Amber really has betrayed us. I had hoped it was not so."

"Amber?" Sun asked. "You mean that girl, Professor Ozpin's niece? The one who hung around with Team Sapphire all the time lately? She killed Professor Ozpin? Her own uncle?"

"At least it sounds as though they haven't gotten the Relic yet," Blake suggested.

"Relic?" Sun repeated. "What's a relic?"

"Not when Lyra left, but how long is that going to last?" Rainbow replied. "What's to stop them now that Professor Ozpin's dead?"

"Can one of you guys just stop for a second and tell me what's going on?" Sun cried.

"Blake, sum it up for him quickly," Rainbow replied. "Midnight, call the General."

"What are you going to tell him?" asked Ciel.

"I'm going to tell him that Professor Ozpin's dead and that the Relic is in danger," Rainbow replied. "You don't think we can or should not tell him, do you?"

"No," Ciel said at once, "But how will you tell him without exposing secrets to the bridge crew aboard the Valiant?"

That was a good question, one that Rainbow hadn't considered in the rush of things happening. "I," she began. "I will … I'll say things like they're code names and then everyone will think that I'm talking about something secret that they don't know the real meaning of."

Ciel considered that. "Yes, that is probably the best we can do in the circumstances."

"Okay, Sun," Blake said. "The short version is that there is a secret and powerful weapon stored underneath Beacon, Amber is the only person who get to it, and we're afraid that she's about to remove it and give it to someone really bad — and it sounds like she and her friends killed Professor Ozpin when he tried to stop her."

"But why is Amber the only—?"

"Even if I had time to explain that, Sun, I'm not sure that I should," Blake replied, cutting him off. "This information is … very secret. I shouldn't be sharing any of it with you, but … just, please, trust me for now, okay?"

"Is this it?" Sun asked. "Is that why you went to Mountain Glenn, is that why you did all those missions?"

"It's certainly part of it," Blake admitted. "There's a lot more going on that I can’t tell you now."

"Okay," Sun muttered. "I guess I don't want to get you in trouble or anything."

"Thank you," Blake said. "I'm sorry, but—"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "I'm sure this is important."

"Yes, sir, very," Rainbow said at once. "I have reason to believe that Professor Ozpin is dead and that Amber may be about to enter the Sealed Vault."

There was a moment of silence. Rainbow could hardly blame the General for needing a second; it was a lot to take in at once.

"How do you know this?" General Ironwood asked, his tone hard to read. He was probably working hard to keep it that way.

"Lyra called me, sir, Lyra Heartstrings," Rainbow explained. "She was at Canterlot Combat School for some of the same years as me; she knew — knows — me a little bit. And according to Team Sapphire, she was last seen in the company of Amber and her allies. She told me that they had come back to Beacon to get something that she didn't elaborate on but which I think is the Relic and that she'd seen Professor Ozpin killed by … Tempest Shadow. That … Lyra isn't a killer, sir; she didn't mean for anything bad to happen, she was misled by others. When she saw what was happening, she ran away and called me."

"I see," General Ironwood murmured. "And where is she now?"

"I don't know, sir," Rainbow admitted. "We lost contact and can't reestablish it. It's … she might be dead too, sir, killed by—"

"By her erstwhile allies, following her attack of conscience," Ironwood muttered.

"It's not her fault, sir," Rainbow said, in a very mild rebuke.

"Perhaps not," Ironwood allowed. "But anyway, according to Miss Heartstrings, they didn't have the, ahem, Relic?"

"Not as far as Lyra knew, sir, no," Rainbow said.

"Very well," General Ironwood said. "Are Belladonna and Soleil with you?"

"Yes, sir," Ciel said.

"I'm here, sir," Blake added. She glanced at Sun but didn't mention his presence.

Sun didn't bring himself up either.

"I'll try and contact Ozpin," General Ironwood announced. "If he answers, then you've been sold a bill of goods, and I'll inform you at once. In the meantime, I want you to take an airship, head across the battlefield to collect Penny and Team Sapphire from the Mistralian position. According to Ozpin, they know where the Sealed Vault is located, which isn't something even I could tell you otherwise. They can guide you there to stop the Relic from being removed if possible, or to recapture it otherwise. Taking Amber alive would be preferable, but not necessary."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow said. "We'll leave at once."

"Be careful," General Ironwood said. "This isn't an opponent to be underestimated. Watch each other's backs."

"Always, sir," Rainbow said.

"Of course," General Ironwood acknowledged. "Ironwood out."

"He's not sure he believes you," Sun observed.

"Understandable; it was quite a lot of information to be given at once," Ciel said. "And who can begrudge him having hope that Professor Ozpin still lives?"

"If this was all some kind of a trick, and Lyra had done it to lure us into a trap, that would be great," Rainbow said. "I don't think it is, because … it would be a lot of risk for them, and there's not a lot of reason for them to do it. They don't need to kill us or whatever; what they need is to get the Relic, and anything that gets in the way of that is a risk for them. I'm sure General Ironwood knows that too, but he has to make sure. He can't just take it on trust that Professor Ozpin's dead because I heard it from someone I went to combat school with and who fell in with the wrong crowd."

"And if he is dead?" asked Sun. "If someone killed Professor Ozpin, how are we supposed to fight them?"

"Together," Rainbow said. "As best we can." It was a good question, but at the same time, Rainbow didn't have a brilliant answer for it. She took comfort from the fact that Team SAPR — and Penny — had taken down Cinder last night, and Amber had the same magic that Cinder did but was probably a little bit less dangerous in terms of her combat skills, so it was possible. Yes, Amber wasn't alone, but Dove? Bon Bon? Tempest was the most dangerous of the three of them, but Rainbow was pretty sure that she could take Tempest one on one. Her and Blake combined would make it a cakewalk.

It could be done. It wasn't impossible, far from it.

"Once we've collected Team Sapphire, then we'll come up with a plan on our way to Beacon," Rainbow said. "For now, let's move, while there are still some airships left."

"No response, sir," said des Voeux.

"Try again," Ironwood replied.

"Aye aye, sir," answered des Voeux as he bent to his task.

Ironwood kept his face impassive, conveying none of the emotions that whirled within him. From the moment that Dash had opened so bluntly, but also so necessarily, he had been … to say that he had not seen it coming would be an understatement.

Ozpin, dead?

"Still nothing, sir," des Voeux informed him.

"Alright," Ironwood said. "Thank you, des Voeux."

"Sir."

That was not proof beyond all doubt, but it was suggestive — very suggestive — that Dash's friend Miss Heartstrings was correct: that Ozpin was dead.

Of course, something that you found out when Ozpin brought you into his inner circle, alongside all of the stuff about Salem, the Relics, the Maidens, was that Oz was never really gone. He would always be with you, after a fashion. But Ozpin, that particular old man, the one who had infuriated him at times, baffled him at others, tried his patience upon occasion, but who had always tried, according to his lights, to do right by his school, his students, and by the people of Remnant as a whole, was gone for good.

Ironwood would never speak to him again. It would be … someone else that he would answer to next, a stranger, someone he didn't know — and someone, as much to the point, who didn't know him either.

The transition, so he had been told, was always rough; no two summers were alike, no two Maidens, no two sages. The lieutenants chosen by one were not always to the taste of their successor, just as the successor was not always to the taste of the late predecessor's lieutenants. That was, apparently, an inevitable truth of their secret circle, though all parties approached the transition with the best will in the world and under the very best circumstances.

These were not the very best circumstances.

It was said that when the Last King of Vale had lain on his deathbed, he had reassured all those around him that 'the moment has been prepared for.' Ironwood very much doubted that this moment had been prepared for by anyone; certainly, he hadn't prepared for it. Had Glynda, or Theodore?

And as for Lionheart…

A headmaster and a Maiden both traitors, and another Maiden vanished without trace. What a time to have a new leader foisted upon us.

Not to mention the amount of time it could take for the chosen one to show themselves; according to old General Brazen, his predecessor, they had been without for a little more than two years before Ozpin had appeared. Could they afford to wait that long now?

We may not have any other choice. It wasn't as though these things could be forced, after all.

These were all future considerations. For tonight, fortunately, he didn't need Ozpin to fight this battle.

His victory — Atlas' victory — would be his tribute to the old man's memory.

I won't let you down, Oz.

"Des Voeux," he said. "Hail Colonel Sky Beak."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said, sounding a little relieved not to be asked to try and hail Ozpin again. He bent to his console, fingers moving lightly across the controls. "Patching you through now, sir."

"Colonel Sky Beak, this is General Ironwood; I'm afraid I have some bad news," Ironwood said. "Grimm have breached the Green Line, and my forces are being compelled to retreat, having taken serious losses to our air forces."

"Understood, General," Sky Beak said. "I take it this reversal is a result of this new grimm that we've seen in the skies."

"The dragon, yes," Ironwood acknowledged. "It's more powerful than anything we've faced on this battlefield up until now."

"Can it be killed?"

"Any grimm can be killed in the right circumstances, and I'm still hopeful for my huntsmen and huntresses," Ironwood told him. "However, as of now, the dragon is leaving us alone, and my troops are falling back in the direction of Vale and the Red Line. How is the evacuation of civilians from the districts beyond the wall proceeding?"

There was a pause before Sky Beak said, "People are reaching the gate as quickly as they can."

"When my forces arrive, they can join your forces in defending the walls," Ironwood said. "Or we can go into reserve behind your troops, if you'd prefer."

"Something that we can discuss nearer the time," Sky Beak replied. "Are the grimm pursuing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Ironwood admitted. "But we'll get there before them. My troops are continuing to bleed the grimm as they retreat and suppressing the pursuit as best they can. The grimm are following, but not hard upon our heels."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sky Beak replied. "I'll make my dispositions, and then your troops can slot into them as possible when they arrive." Another pause. "General Ironwood, I can't risk the grimm getting through the gates and into Vale; if your soldiers are too late or the grimm too close—"

"They won't," Ironwood insisted. "I understand your concerns, Colonel, but I assure you that my forces will reach the gates with time to spare and the grimm kept at a safe distance."

"I hope so, General Ironwood, I really do," Colonel Sky Beak said. "And if you're right, then I look forward to welcoming them to Vale when they arrive."

Author's Note

It's difficult to cite Oscar as evidence for this, considering the circumstances and the fact that Ozpin isn't even around by the time they get to Atlas, but considering that each host is a different person and the assimiliation-not-replacement nature of the merge, I think it's reasonable to expect a fair number of times when a new host just plain doesn't like his past self's choices in subordinates (and they aren't particularly keen on the new host, either), which probably adds some friction to proceedings.

Lionheart is surprised that Oscar has shown up so soon, and Salem is enraged by the news of his return (having previously set great store by Cinder having killed him), suggesting that death can sometimes put him down for a lot longer than we see in the show, leaving everyone to muddle through without him.

Thus Kindly We Scatter (New)

Thus Kindly We Scatter

They all stared up at the creature that rose into the sky. The enormous grimm that was so large that they could behold it here, just outside of Vale, though it was all the way in…

Mountain Glenn. It had risen from the southeast, from the direction of the dead city.

And yet there had been no sign of it when they were there, on either occasion. Had they been too insignificant to waste such a grimm upon? It seemed more plausible than the idea that it had been afraid of them.

A grimm so large as this, it seemed quite plausible that it had been held in reserve.

It was an enormous creature, a monstrous creature, a creature so large that when it rose before the moon, its wings, outstretched, spread out from side to side across the shattered silver orb.

It was like no grimm that Pyrrha had ever seen before.

She didn't think that any of them had seen a grimm quite like this before.

She looked around: at Penny and Jaune; Yang, Ren, and Nora; at Ruby; at Arslan; at the other huntsmen and huntresses from Beacon and Mistral stood nearby. All of them wore amazement on their faces. Jaune's mouth was agape, Arslan had recoiled a step, Ren's knees trembled, while Nora held on to one of his arms with both hands — whether she was seeking or bestowing assurance, Pyrrha could not say.

Even Ruby looked shocked, her silver eyes grown wide. Though she recovered faster than many, raising the scope of Crescent Rose to her eye and aiming the weapon towards the grimm.

"You can't possibly be in range," Yang said. "It's too far away."

"Sure, but I can get a better look at it," Ruby replied, closing the eye that wasn't looking down the scope.

Her mouth twisted in distaste a mere few moments later. "It's ugly." She paused. "It kinda looks…" She raised her eye from the rifle scope, opening the other, and looked at Pyrrha. "It looks a lot like the bones of that creature they've got in the museum in Mistral, you know, the big one with the big head."

"The dragon?" Pyrrha asked.

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, that's it, I think. Big head, big jaws, wings, it looks just like that."

"But this is a grimm, right?" Jaune asked. "It's not some living thing?"

"Oh, no, it's definitely a grimm," Ruby answered.

"But many grimm are based on living things," Pyrrha said. "Wolves, bears, boars; why not on a creature that was living once, though it lives no longer?"

"Might have been better if it didn't live at all," Nora muttered. "Did you get a sense of how strong it is?"

Ruby shrugged. "Big doesn't have to mean strong, but you can see for yourself it's pretty big. It's…" She trailed off.

"It's … it's coming towards us," Penny said. "No, wait, it's not coming right this way; it's heading past us, I think. So long as it doesn't change direction, anyway."

"Past us how?" Jaune asked. "Past us specifically or—"

"No," Penny replied. "Past the whole battlefield."

"It'll probably change direction, then," Jaune muttered glumly.

"But if it does, then there's still no need to worry!" Penny declared. "Because Atlas will take care of it, with all the General's airships and lasers and missiles—"

Ruby grinned. "Penny opens her mouth, and Rainbow Dash's voice comes out." Her tone held no malice in it, only a little wry amusement.

Yang snorted. "Or Blake's voice."

Penny's mouth worked silently, opening and closing. "Well," she said eventually. "Just because they're a lot sometimes doesn't mean that they aren't right about this."

"Are you having second thoughts about your school transfer?" asked Ruby.

"No," Penny said at once. "Not at all." She paused. "But if I could fight alongside all my friends and have a whole bunch of powerful airships backing me up, that wouldn't be so bad, would it?"

Yang laughed, planting both hands on her hips as her mouth opened wide and her laughter spilled out into the night.

Ruby chuckled too, and Jaune as well, and Pyrrha found a smile pricking up at the corners of her mouth.

"It sounds great when you put it like that," Ruby said. "But the things that you'd have to have to get that, the military and stuff, if you had all that too, then it wouldn't be … wouldn't be Beacon anymore, I guess. You take your choice for the kind of Academy, and then you've got to … live with it."

"Like we have to live with it now," said Jaune. He paused. "Without airships, without all the Atlas stuff, if that grimm turns on us as we are now, can we beat this thing?"

Nobody replied. Not only did nobody in their immediate circle and vicinity speak, but it felt as though the wider group of huntsmen and huntresses had fallen silent, too, and were eavesdropping on their conversation.

Nobody replied, though it was the pertinent question. It was the pertinent question, but that did not make it easy to answer.

It seemed a very large grimm, and aside from its great size, they hadn't even begun to see what it was capable of.

Any grimm could be killed — that was practically axiomatic — and there were many stories of heroes slaying grimm of monstrous size, but to do it themselves … they might find it was not so easy as for the heroes of the old tales.

Pyrrha found her eyes being drawn towards Ruby. Nor was she alone in that; Jaune, Penny, Yang, even Ren and Nora were starting to look her way, to a greater or lesser extent.

Ruby's eyebrows rose as she noticed their attention falling on her. "Oh, now, you look at me," she huffed. "Well … I don't know. I'm not just some optimistic idiot who doesn't understand when things aren't practical. I understand that there are things that we can't do, and I … I'm worried this is one of them. It's really big, and I … don't know if we can, any of us, do enough to bring it down. I'd love to stand here and say that I know we can do it, but I don't, not for something this size."

Arslan sidled a couple of steps closer to them. "What about cutting off its head?"

Ruby glanced at Crescent Rose. "I'm not sure we've got anything big enough to get through the neck."

"Did you see any sign of a weak point?' asked Pyrrha. "In stories, such large grimm often have one."

"I didn't see one," Ruby admitted. "But I didn't get a full view, I mostly only saw the front of it, and its weak point would be … somewhere on the belly or something, right?"

"Not necessarily," Ren said softly. "But possibly, especially if you didn't see it on the grimm's front. Assuming it has a weakness, of course."

Yes, that was quite the assumption, wasn't it? It was only a common motif in stories, which either meant that the stories were based on truth or that they were all sharing the same … infelicity with that same truth, or exaggeration.

But then, why invent such a weakness? Was it not mightier by far to kill a fearsome and powerful foe without the aid of such a convenient striking point?

That, at least, was Pyrrha's hope, though it was her lesser hope.

Her greater hope was that Penny was correct and the Atlesian airships would take care of it for them.

And let my ancestors weep to hear me think so, Pyrrha thought. For there is more at stake by far than my pride.

"Could…?" Jaune spoke tentatively, and haltingly, as if he very much did not wish to say the words emerging from his mouth like a baby bird making its slow emergence out of a cracking egg. "Could a grimm that size take command of a horde?"

His words crashed amongst them like the wreck of the Dingyuan. They reduced everyone present to a momentary silence.

"Well, thanks, Jaune," Yang said, through gritted teeth. "That's an image I really needed."

"I don't like the idea!" Jaune cried.

"But if it is possible, then we would be fools not to consider it," Pyrrha added.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Yang admitted, in a grumbling tone. "I don't know the answer, though; does anyone?"

Pyrrha did not. Professor Port had not made mention of such a situation; grimm hordes were rare enough, and the question of whether an Apex Alpha could be succeeded after death was even rarer. Generally, the horde would be considered broken, but in this instance, with the grimm still on the field…

They were like embers, embers of a dead fire, but if all the embers were swept together into a pile, might they not ignite once more?

Unless…

"Ruby was right," Pyrrha said.

"I was?" Ruby asked. "About what?"

Pyrrha nodded. "You said, before this dragon arrived, that we should attack and break the grimm before us. That may not be possible now, but if we winnow their numbers now, while they are divided, then we will only help ourselves once — or if — Jaune's fear comes to pass."

More silence, another pause from all concerned.

"You'll get no argument from me," Ruby said. "Seeing as it was my idea."

"Nor me," agreed Yang. "Seeing as we might have to fight them one way or another."

"Why would I object?" asked Nora. "You're speaking my language!"

"I hope Jaune's wrong," Penny said. "And I really want to believe that Atlas will stop that grimm … but it's a good idea, Py-Ruby. We should do what we can."

Jaune didn't say anything, he only gave a brisk nod of his head as he drew his sword once more.

Arslan slammed a fist into the palm of her other hand. "Alright then," she said. "Would someone care to do the honours?"

"'The honours'?" asked Penny.

"Is someone going to shout 'charge'?" Arslan explained, looking at Pyrrha.

Why me? Pyrrha wanted to ask, except that she knew of course why her, at least with so many Haven huntsmen and huntresses present.

If she had wanted it to not be her, then she should have thrown the match to Weiss.

Speaking of which, where was Weiss, anyway? Pyrrha couldn't remember seeing her since Beacon.

Gone with the Atlesians into battle on the other side of the field, most likely.

Pyrrha sighed and raised Miló, in sword form, overhead.

She licked her lips and softly said, "Ruby, will you join me?"

Ruby looked surprised for a second, and it took her another few moments of no response before the slightest smile appeared upon her face.

"Sure," she said, in a voice that was almost as soft as Pyrrha's own had been. "But what shall we say?"

"How about 'huntsmen, attack'?" Yang suggested. "Nice and simple."

Pyrrha and Ruby exchanged a glance.

Pyrrha nodded, sword still raised high.

Ruby nodded too, and swept Crescent Rose back behind her to strike.

"Huntsmen of Vale!" Ruby cried.

"Huntsmen of Mistral!" Pyrrha shouted.

"Attack!" they yelled together, and stormed forward into the battle almost as though they were still friends.

They charged forwards, and their friends joined them: Jaune and Arslan were at Pyrrha's side, and Yang was at Ruby's with Ren and Nora on her right. Penny was just a little behind, providing support with laser and sword from a slight distance. They charged, and soon, they were joined by others too, the huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon and Haven, Mistral, and Vale — although to frame it thus might have given insult to those who attended Beacon or Haven without being from either Mistral or Vale — following them into battle with loud war cries ripping from their throats, swords drawn, guns firing.

They charged into the grimm like lionesses erupting out of the tall grass to take the herd of placid wildebeest by storm. The moonlight glinted off the blade of Crescent Rose, made Crocea Mors shine silver, and caused Miló and Akoúo̱ to gleam like gold as they tore into the grimm, scattering smoke and ashes before them as they cut a swathe through the ranks of the monsters.

Yet, the grimm were not so helpless as the wildebeest would have been when the lionesses burst from hiding to assail them. Though their Apex Alpha was dead, though they were no longer a horde — or not a horde for now, at least — they did not run, did not scatter in flight, but fought back against the huntsmen and huntresses as best they could. But it was an uncoordinated fight, each pack of beowolves or nest of creeps fighting under its own alpha, ursai fighting alone or in small groups. It was as when an army is broken and the soldiers are reduced to making their last stands here and there about the battlefield, so it was with the grimm who fought on singly in their several small groups, none assisting the others, no effort to combine their vast forces, just individual groups, all of them easily cut down.

So it was that the huntsmen and huntresses carved a way forward, and grimm fell before them like ears of corn felled by the sickle of the labouring tenant who toils and sweats upon the fields of their great lord. But the grimm were so numerous, and in their great numbers spread out all across the battlefield, that the huntsmen could not simply press inexorably forward with their great charge; they were too few in number by comparison, they occupied too narrow a front. When the Red Lion had slain the Apex Alpha before Kuchinashi, the army that had swept the leaderless grimm away had been thousands strong, a muster of Mistral's nobility and their sworn households, levied troops, mercenaries from across Anima. Now, Polemarch Yeoh's forces were still out there, somewhere, present but unseen, but they were but a comparative handful of students, fewer than a hundred in total, and they were a dagger rather than a great blade. They could penetrate and inflict real harm, but they could not retake the Green Line, and if they had tried to reach it, they would have swiftly found themselves alone in the midst of grimm on all sides.

Therefore, instead of stabbing deep into the mass of grimm, they made many short but rapid thrusts, their assault ebbing and flowing like the tide. They would attack, slaying many grimm, as many as they were able to, and then they would retreat before they penetrated too deep into the mass of grimm — too deep to get out again. They would retreat, falling back close to where they had started, around the wreckage of the Dingyuan, before attacking again, in a slightly different place and direction, subjecting the grimm to the same treatment they had meted out elsewhere.

In that way, they wreaked a great deal of damage, or at least Pyrrha hoped that they were wreaking a great deal of damage, for she had to admit that it was hard to see a vast difference being made by them. They went forward so many times, struck down so many grimm of so many different types that her arms began to weary of endless cutting and thrusting, despite her aura, but for all that, for all the exertions that she could see on the faces of her friends and companions, they seemed no closer to cutting through the horde.

They had attacked so that they could weaken the grimm if — in case — the dragon that had appeared from the southeast made the efforts of Jaune and Penny and the others meaningless and took command of the horde, but were they doing that? They were killing grimm — that could not be denied — but there always seemed to be so many more left that were they actually making the horde meaningfully weaker? Or were they just weakening themselves, tiring themselves out before the battle had been renewed in earnest?

If I let my thoughts go down that road, then I shall despair. Every grimm we slay is one fewer grimm that will assail us with renewed determination if the dragon assumes command over the horde.

She hoped that it would not come to that, that the dragon would be unable to do so, or that the Atlesians would strike it down with their array of weapons; and yet, as Pyrrha retreated during the ebbs of their advances, as she had a few moments to turn her gaze towards the sky before they went forwards again, she could not help but notice with a sinking sensation that the Atlesians did not appear to be getting any closer to slaying the dragon.

Rather, the dragon itself seemed to be getting closer to the battlefield in spite of the lights of the Atlesian lasers that illuminated the night sky around it, at first far off and then closer as they tried to hold it back. When Pyrrha looked again, after going forwards more than once, cutting down more grimm alongside the others, she saw that the dragon was closer still — and then it was upon the Atlesian lines, and yet more lasers illuminated the night sky as the Atlesian warships, their flanks flashing with red and green lights so that they could be seen by other airships, brought their powerful weapons to bear upon this great new challenger to their supremacy.

And the dragon did not fall.

Pyrrha watched — Pyrrha could not look away from — the battle that, though it was far off, was nevertheless almost as clear as day to her, lit up by the light of the lasers and the explosions of the missiles. So much of what was happening on the other side of the battlefield was hard to make out, little more than the sound of cannons firing and the flaring up of half-concealed explosions, but now, up in the sky, the fighting was vivid and visible.

Vivid and visible and not at all good news, as the dragon absorbed the fire of five or six — Pyrrha counted them, but the way they were arrayed made it hard to be certain of the count — Atlesian cruisers without perishing in the flames, all the while diminishing the number of ships assailing it. Two of them were destroyed, and a third was damaged; at least that was the only conclusion she could draw from the fact that it started crawling away while its fellows tried desperately to protect it. Six cruisers, there must have been six, because there were only three left now; the dragon had destroyed or driven off the rest to become the master of the skies.

Even from this distance, with its sounds muffled by the great gap between there and here, Pyrrha found the dragon's shrieking sound sent shivers down her spine and made her fingers tremble. Its roar was not quite so immediately affecting, but even so, it was a wicked noise, and Pyrrha wished she did not have to hear it.

Judging by the expressions of her friends, she was not alone in that.

"They … they lost?" Penny asked, as the dragon swooped down towards the ground, ignoring the surviving cruisers in favour of … Pyrrha did not know what, she couldn't see; the dragon dropped out of sight as it dropped out of the sky. "But … but how? It-it's just a grimm, how could it … how?"

"Because it's really strong," Ruby declared. "That's all there is to it. It's really, stronger than anyone … expected."

Penny frowned. "Why did you hesitate?"

"Because," Ruby began. She shook her head, "it doesn't really matter, I guess, but there are stories about a monster that lived under one of the mountains to the east, the one called the Dragon's Fang. Only it's supposed to be dead. The stories say that Percy killed it. The versions of the stories that I preferred, anyway."

"Looks like the versions that you didn't like so much might be more on the money," Yang said in an off-hand manner. "I don't suppose the stories say how she killed it?"

"Since we've established that that part is false, I fail to see how that would help," remarked Ren.

Yang paused for a moment. "Good point," she admitted.

Penny clasped her hands together above her heart. “Do you think … what do you think it’s doing now?”

What it was doing now, as its roar echoed faintly across the land towards them, was rising up into the air once more. It ignored the remaining Atlesian cruisers, ignored the airships — they seemed to be preoccupied with something, perhaps the other grimm in the skies — and circled lazily over the battlefield.

Has it done enough harm already? Pyrrha thought. Has it done so much that it feels no need to do any more? Perhaps the notion of a lazy grimm, one that was satisfied with ‘good enough,’ should have brought her some comfort, but it did not. Instead, perhaps because she could not imagine a grimm being satisfied with ‘good enough,’ it made her fearful for the Atlesians, for Blake and Rainbow Dash and all the rest.

Her fears were not alleviated when the dragon descended on the battlefield again, mouth agape to breathe out that weapon, that beam, that destructive power that so resembled a laser down upon the battlefield.

Penny squeaked in alarm, covering her mouth with both hands.

So proud, Pyrrha thought. They were so proud, one might almost call them vain.

Atlas does not have a monopoly on pride, still less on vanity.

Is this grimm a punishment for our hubris?

A punishment from who?

Would that it were a punishment from some heavenly power; at least then, it could be placated. As it is, if Salem has sent this monster, then it wants no punishment but our destruction.

The dragon rose up and once more turned away from the battlefield; this time, however, it did not circle over the Atlesian positions, amongst the wreckage of their air defences, but rather, it flew away, back in the direction that it had come.

And then it turned once more, flying over the abandoned Valish lines, and headed straight for them.

The Atlesian technological might, the new weapons, ingenuity, and prowess of the north, had failed; now, it seemed that it would be the turn of the old Mistralian valour and their warrior ways to stand up to the same punishment.

Pyrrha looked around. Everyone had seen what she had seen, everyone had seen the dragon in the sky — it could hardly be missed — tearing through the ranks of the Atlesian air fleet, destroying great ships like they were toys of a careless child, descending on the ground with worse than fire.

Everyone had seen it, just as they all had seen, and in their faces now, Pyrrha could see the same…

Fear. It was fear that made her tremble, there was no denying it.

There was no purpose in denying it.

Denying it would not banish it.

Saying ‘I am not afraid, I am the Champion of Mistral, and I laugh at death’ would not banish fear from her own heart, and it certainly would not banish fear from the hearts of Arslan or Violet or Neptune or any of the others.

And yet, someone would have to. Someone needed to put courage back into the hearts of the huntsmen and huntresses, or else…

Or else the dragon would fall upon them and devour them while their swords hung from their trembling hands.

Someone…

Someone being…

Pyrrha closed her eyes for a moment.

Arslan had told Penny that all one needed was a knowledge of the classics; Pyrrha had that, if nothing else, so it seemed that they might see if Arslan was right.

It was to Arslan that Pyrrha turned, because she instinctively shied away from a grand speech, delivered as a speech, raising her voice to let it echo out across the field; she feared it would sound false, artificial, the intended effect undercut by the perceived air of self-importance.

But one thing that a knowledge of the classics taught — the same knowledge that Arslan claimed was all that was required — was that there was more than one way to give a speech; the great speeches of the Mistraliad were not delivered out to the world; rather, they were delivered in conversation between two warriors on the field of battle, said battle and the war and the world itself slowing for the delivery of weighty words.

With good fortune, the battle and the grimm would slow their progress for Pyrrha to speak to Arslan — in such a way that others would hear her too.

Certainly, she did not keep quiet, did not lower her voice; rather, her voice was high enough that it carried, even though it was solely at Arslan that she looked, and only to Arslan that she apparently spoke. "Arslan, can you use your semblance on yourself and embolden your own heart?"

Arslan looked up at her. "That would be a fine thing, wouldn't it?" she replied. "But no, it doesn't work like that." She said it with certainty, as though she had tried in the past and found her semblance wanting; Pyrrha, who could not remember a time in all the tournaments in which they had both competed when Arslan had seemed nervous, was left admiring her ability to hide the fact.

But, since you cannot breathe upon yourself, then let me breathe on you, as it were. "That is a pity, that you cannot embolden yourself and then, thus bold, give heart to the rest of us," she said. "But then, perhaps you should take heart rather from the fact that…" Pyrrha was forced to pause for a moment, because it would be as well for her to have thought through why things were not so hopeless before she said 'things aren't so hopeless' and invited demands for an explanation.

That took a few seconds' thought, because on the face of it, there wasn't much to take heart from. The Atlesians had failed, their immensely powerful weaponry, stronger than anything in the arsenal of the huntsmen and huntresses, had failed to bring down the immense and mighty grimm opposed to them. Penny's laser, when it was fully charged, was about as powerful as a single one of the cannons on an Atlesian cruiser — Pyrrha remembered that because she had heard Rainbow Dash boast as much — and thus it was the mightiest weapon that they here possessed. But many laser cannons on several Atlesian cruisers had fired on the dragon, illuminating the darkness with their red beams, and the dragon yet lived.

Lived and roared and came towards them, where it might sweep up the embers of the grimm horde into a blazing inferno.

I am supposed to be devising cause for hope, not reasoning myself into despair.

But we are so few, compared with…

So few…

"Are you going to remind me that ten thousand fates of death surround us, which no man or woman either may escape or avoid?" Arslan asked, a trifle sharply but not unkindly for it.

Pyrrha would have chuckled under different circumstances, but she only shook her head. "No," she replied. "No, indeed. Rather, I would have you put thoughts of death aside and take heart from the fact that things are not so hopeless as they appear. We are few in number, perhaps, compared to the strength of the Atlesians upon the other side of the field, and the size and strength of that grimm — what we can tell of it — makes us seem mere vermin or insects by comparison—"

"I feel better already," Arslan muttered.

"But being few, we have great freedom," Pyrrha told her. "We are not bound to a line, or a tight formation from which we cannot escape, and being so much smaller than our enemy, we may be so much more nimble. When the dragon descends, before it we may scatter like rats — no, that's too big, something smaller—"

"Cockroaches?" Arslan suggested.

"Yes, thank you, like cockroaches," Pyrrha said. "Like filthy cockroaches, we may scurry about the floor and thus evade the lumbering feet that try to step on us."

As someone who had never, to her knowledge, suffered cockroaches in any room of her extremely well-maintained house, Pyrrha hoped that she hadn't so mistaken the behaviour of the creatures as to render her point nonsense.

"That's all very well," Arslan replied. "But cockroaches can't kill the person trying to step on them, no matter how much they run around."

"Cockroaches do not have weapons or semblances," Pyrrha pointed out. She stepped sideways to look around Arslan. "Umber," she called out. "Can you freeze the dragon with your semblance?"

Umber pushed her sunglasses back up her nose a fraction. A smirk crossed her features as she said, "So long as it isn’t wearing its boyfriend's sash like a blindfold, Lady Pyrrha, I see no reason why I should not. So long as it has eyes, it should not be immune to me. Although if my concentration is broken by other grimm coming to the dragon's aid—"

"They won't get near you; you may depend on that and us," vowed Umber's teammate, the mouse faunus with the beret on his head.

"I'm glad to hear it," Pyrrha said. "And while the grimm is frozen, we can kill it."

"How?" asked Yang. "I mean, I'm sure it will be easier than killing it while it's moving, but all the same, Ruby said—"

"Maybe," Penny interjected. "If Jaune were to give Ruby a boost, then she'd be moving with enough force to cut its head off."

Yang folded her arms. "You know, at some point, that trick you're so fond of is going to get old."

"The fox has a hundred tricks, the hedgehog only one," Ren murmured. "But the hedgehog's trick is very good."

"What do you think, Ruby?" asked Penny.

"I think it's a good idea, except that Crescent Rose doesn't have a long enough blade to slice through the dragon's neck in a single stroke," Ruby replied. "It won't get all the way from top to bottom."

Nora shrugged. "If the grimm is frozen stiff, then you can take as long as you want—"

"Not too long, please," Umber interjected. "Keeping people frozen is not entirely effortless on my part."

"Or, after you've made a deep enough cut, maybe I can knock its head off," Nora said. "Or Pyrrha and Jaune can do the rest or … we'll figure it out. The point is, just because you can't kill it in one shot doesn't mean it's not worth trying. I think this is a pretty good plan, and I think we should go for it."

"And I, too," Umber declared. "We'll show those Atlesian dogs that a few brave hearts may do more than all their arms and ships."

Penny looked a little discomfited by Umber's choice of words, but she kept silent as others began to enthusiastically add their approval to the idea.

"We will do as you suggest, Lady Pyrrha," Violet Valeria vowed, half bowing in Pyrrha's direction.

"And Penny also," Pyrrha said, reaching out to put a hand on Penny's shoulder.

Violet ignored that, instead raising her voice to cry out, "Let old Mistral count for something still!"

A loud cheer rose from the throats of the Haven students.

"You guys do know how to make everything about yourselves, don't you?" Yang asked, in a tone that contained both amusement but also the promise of eyeballs rolling in equal measure.

Pyrrha winced. "I'm afraid so," she said softly. She glanced at Penny. "Penny, I … I'm sorry if I, or that I … I hope you don't feel as though I—"

"It's fine," Penny assured her, raising her and placing it gently on top of Pyrrha's. "I mean, this just shows that there are people who would listen to you who wouldn't listen to me. And the important thing right now is that we have an idea for when that thing arrives."

Their eyes were drawn once more towards the dragon, still some distance off but getting closer, its bony skull a white point in the dark sky and aimed straight for them like a missile.

"That is true," Pyrrha murmured. "Nevertheless, if anyone has a better idea, I will not be offended, I promise."

"Nah, I think that'll work," Ruby declared, temporarily folding up Crescent Rose into its carbine configuration so that she could walk closer to them. "Although … some cockroaches do get stepped on, you know that, right? Or didn't you? I don't suppose you have a lot of them in your mansion."

"No, I must admit, I've never seen one in person," Pyrrha confessed.

"Nor have I," Ruby replied. "So I might be wrong too."

"But I suspect you are not," Pyrrha said softly. "But … is there another choice, beyond fleeing immediately?"

Ruby looked up at her, her silver eyes meeting Pyrrha's, almost boring or burning into her. "No," Ruby said, quietly and a trifle slowly. "No, I don't think there is." She snorted. "Thus kindly we scatter."

"Hmm?" Penny asked.

"A quote?" asked Pyrrha.

"I don't actually … never mind," Ruby said quickly. "The point is that this will work, if anything does, and it has to work, for the sake of Vale. After what that dragon did to the Atlesian line, what could it do to the Red Line if it got there? It's like you said, our big advantage is the fact that we're not on a wall or in a line; we're free to move however we like, even — especially — out of that thing's way. As much as we can." She paused and glanced down at Crescent Rose in her small, pale hands. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather be the one getting launched by Jaune? I'm sure the crowd would love it if their Champion of Mistral got a big strike on a big grimm like that."

"Actually, Pyrrha isn't the Champion of Mistral anymore; she's the Vytal Champion now," Penny pointed out.

Ruby didn't quite snort, but her nose did twitch a little as though she might. "Well," she said, "either way."

"I'm more concerned about the crowd," Pyrrha said softly.

A grin flashed across Ruby's face for a second as she jerked in her head in the direction of the Haven students.

Pyrrha arched one eyebrow.

Ruby shrugged, as if to say that she was right no matter how improper or impolitic it might be to say it.

Pyrrha decided to ignore that for now, instead saying, "Crescent Rose cuts deeper than Miló; you may not be able to take the dragon's head, but you can get closer to that goal than I." She hesitated. "Jaune," she said.

Jaune had been lingering upon the edge of their conversation, listening without speaking. Now, he looked at her. "Yeah?"

"When the dragon arrives and the fighting resumes, you should stick close to Ruby," Pyrrha said, with some reluctance that she hoped wasn't too obvious in her voice. "Since you'll be working together when the moment comes, it makes sense. For you to try and find each other amidst the chaos would waste time that we may not have."

Now it was Jaune's turn to look into her eyes, and Pyrrha was certain that he could divine in them that she was not thrilled about this. He reached out for her, and with her hand holding Miló, he closed his fingers instead about her wrist as he said, "That makes sense."

"No," Ruby said. "No, it … okay, yes, it makes sense, but that doesn't mean that we're gonna do it. First of all, Jaune can't keep up with me while I'm using my semblance, so I'll have to slow down for him, which wouldn't be so bad because I get that we're going to be working together for the big strike, but more importantly than that is I don't want to be the one responsible if Jaune is the cockroach that gets stepped on!"

"Huh?" Jaune asked, his voice alarmed.

"No offence," Ruby said.

"No offence?!" Jaune squawked.

"I don't care what you think about me, Pyrrha," Ruby said. "Just like I'm pretty sure you don't care what I think about you. But that doesn't mean that I want to be blamed for Jaune dying, hated for it, or treated like it's my fault because I didn't protect him so you can both stick with me if you want to, and then you can feel as guilty as I will—"

"Will you stop talking about me as though I'm going to die?" Jaune requested.

"I was going to say 'if', not 'when,'" Ruby insisted.

"We'll all stick with you, as best we can," Penny declared. "As though … as though we were a team."

Ruby looked at her. "Okay," she agreed. "Stick with me as best you can, try and keep up and … try and keep up." She turned away from them, taking a few short steps away but not too far. Her red cape, hanging from her shoulders, wafted gently in the night breeze as she looked up at the dragon as it grew gradually larger in the night sky.

Pyrrha felt Jaune squeeze her wrist.

"I suppose I should thank you for having a little more faith in me than Ruby does," Jaune said.

"She didn't make it sound like a question of faith so much as…" Pyrrha trailed off without saying what Ruby had made it sound like. "Would it affect your gratitude if I told you I was happier with her insistence than with my suggestion?"

Jaune managed a very soft chuckle in the circumstances. "No," he said, "You're good." He paused for half a moment. "That wasn't a bad speech back there."

"Hardly a speech," Pyrrha replied. "More of a—"

"Whatever it was," Jaune said. "It worked."

"So it seems," Pyrrha agreed, speaking quietly as she, like Ruby, turned her eyes towards the dragon.

My words worked, but will my plan?

It must, as Ruby said. It must work, for we have little else.

The dragon, it must be conceded, had been quite patient with them; or else it had simply had a fair distance to go to reach them, flying as it did not straight across the battlefield from the Altesian lines but back, out across the field from which the grimm had started their attack and then across it towards them from the front, the direction in which the grimm had attacked before.

Whether it had simply no choice or whether it was not displeased by the fact that the huntsmen and huntresses had time to observe its coming and to dread its arrival, the fact remained that the dragon's arrival had not been immediate. It had given time to its enemies, time to gather their courage, time to think, time to prepare mentally and spiritually, if not in any physical sense, time that would perhaps have been denied to them if the dragon had travelled by a more direct route or flown more swiftly.

Time that, Pyrrha hoped, it would rue granting them in the short time that it had to think about it before it died.

Nevertheless, patient as the dragon might have been or forced to patience by immutable distance, the dragon closed the distance between them. The beats of its wings seemed lazy now, a substantial interval between each beat, but nevertheless, the dragon came on and seemed to be picking up speed as it came.

Its roaring came before it, cutting through the air, devouring the silence, drowning out the sounds of the lesser grimm as the dragon heralded its own coming. Each roar was louder than the last, rang more in the ears of those who heard it.

And it was not only the roaring that came on before but the grimm too; Jaune's fears were confirmed, the grimm of their horde, the grimm that had been rendered leaderless by the death of the Apex Alpha, were now rallied under the new leadership of the dragon. Indeed, that — more than to frighten the huntsmen and huntresses — might have been the point of the roaring, to rally the grimm or place them under its command or simply to give them an order in the language of monsters.

Whatever the case, the dragon roared, and the grimm answered; even as the dragon still winged its way towards them, the grimm of the horde had already returned to the attack, hurling themselves forwards against the students of Beacon and Haven with all the abandon they had displayed before Jaune and Penny and the others had completed their missions. The students were spread out to avoid the dragon, ready to scatter in all directions, but as the other grimm returned to the attack, they began, consciously or otherwise, to bunch together to better fight back against the swarming beowolves and ursai and boarbatusks, the creeps and the stormvermin.

Was that what the dragon had wanted? Had it seen their strategy already, though it was still some distance off, and moved to counter it? Or was it a happy side effect of its natural inclination to order the grimm forwards in advance of itself?

They were very fortunate that the attack was being led by relatively small grimm, with no goliaths or cyclopes having come up yet to take their place anew on the front line; these smaller grimm, even including some of the big ursai, were nothing they could not deal with, and while it would make things a little more difficult, they would not stop the huntsmen moving.

But it made her glad — and no doubt made Arslan even more glad — that they had sent the wounded away. Reese Chloris had found a tractor in a shed that was part of the cluster of farm buildings behind them, and she was not so badly hurt that she couldn't hotwire it and drive it, with the injured students resting in as much comfort as could be found in the circumstances aboard a trailer, pulled by the tractor as it made its noisy, ponderous way down the road towards the Red Line. So long as the huntsmen and huntresses stood firm, the grimm should not overtake them.

They could rely for assistance with the smaller grimm on the Mistralian troops under Polemarch Yeoh. Pyrrha still had no idea where they were — Polemarch Yeoh had really hidden her forces very well — but she could just about hear the sounds of their gunshots over the roaring of the grimm, at least when the dragon was not roaring — and see the grimm falling to the fire on their flanks. So long as it kept up—

The roar of the dragon drowned out all other sounds. The great grimm, sprung from the mountain depths, was almost upon them now, and the sound of its roar rang in their ears, making the very ground on which they stood seem to tremble with the noise of its approach. The huntsmen and huntresses scattered left and right, east and west, cutting or gunning down grimm frantically in their efforts to keep moving. Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, and Ruby, they were all on the move, with Pyrrha leading and Penny bringing up the rear and Ruby and Jaune, the two who were necessary for the second stage of the plan, in between the two. Crescent Rose roared from behind Pyrrha as she cut a swathe through the ranks of the grimm, tracing an indirect route through their black masses that would, she hoped, confuse the dragon and prevent it from predicting their path. It was like a puzzle, one of those puzzles for young children to follow a line through a mass of squiggles that looped and doubled back and intermingled to an end point on the other side. Pyrrha wasn't sure of the endpoint yet, but she could double back and loop around and everything else that made those puzzles hard for a young girl to follow very well as she carved a winding path through the grimm that sought to stay them. Penny's blades of Floating Array warded their rear, and Ruby's gun and Jaune's sword guarded her flanks, and they did not stop moving, not for anything.

Neither did the dragon. It roared, and it seemed that it would descend upon the huntsmen and huntresses, but at the last moment, it changed direction somewhat, turning away from the students fighting beneath it, heading away from them towards … what? Pyrrha could not say. Towards Vale, back towards the Atlesians, where was it—?

The dragon opened its mouth, and as it roared, that yellow beam that they had seen from afar erupted from its mouth. It was an even more terrible sight, far more terrible when seen up close than at a great distance. Its brightness made Pyrrha look away and shield her eyes with Akoúo̱, its heat spread out across the battlefield and passed over Pyrrha's skin, and the dragon did not even cease to roar as it unleashed so much power on…

On the Mistralian troops.

The fire from the flanks had diminished; on one side, it had almost stopped completely; the soldiers who had been hidden from Pyrrha's eyes had not escaped the dragon's senses, either its sight or its ability to sense the fear it spread in men's hearts, whatever the answer, it had found them, and it had descended on them, and the fire that had poured upon the grimm was in a single stroke almost gone.

The dragon's roar stopped as it wheeled in the air away from the scene of destruction, the smouldering fires along the ground, the copse of trees replaced in an instant with blackened stumps, the ditches destroyed by new carvings through the earth. The dragon turned away, and as its roar faded, the air was filled with screaming as men and women burst from their remaining hiding places, throwing aside their camouflage webbing, pursued by juvenile young grimm.

Young grimm sprung from the pools of black ichor that dropped like rain from the black cloud that was the dragon's belly and its neck; they fell upon the ground, then out of them rose yet more grimm to trouble them.

They had fallen amongst what had been the hiding places of the soldiers before the dragon's breath swept through them, and now, they pursued those soldiers that had survived.

Pyrrha charged to their aid, cutting through the grimm that got in their way and then tearing into the unprotected young grimm, drawing their attention away from the last surviving soldiers, cutting through unprotected black flesh as the troops escaped.

"Polemarch Yeoh?" Pyrrha called out as frightened soldiers fled past her and her friends. "Polemarch Yeoh?"

There was no answer but the dragon's roar as it repeated the trick on the other side of the battlefield, its mouth opening and its deadly breath sweeping across a seemingly empty expanse that nonetheless no doubt had also had soldiers concealed within it.

How much of Polemarch Yeoh's command, that had escaped unscathed from the fighting until now, had been destroyed in mere instants? Was Polemarch Yeoh herself among the slain?

The dragon circled over the battlefield, looking down upon the huntsmen and huntresses who scurried about beneath it like … like cockroaches, as Pyrrha had said, and with as much disdain as the irate householder shows for the infestation did the dragon look down upon them.

Now, Umber, Pyrrha thought. Now. Show this creature that we are not helpless.

But before Umber could use her semblance on the dragon — if she could have, from where she was and where it was — the immense grimm opened its mouth not to roar, not to let out another burning, bright yellow breath, but to shriek the shriek that, when heard far off, had set Pyrrha's teeth on edge and sent a shiver down her spine.

Now, up close, ringing in her ears from this short distance, it did far worse.

It chilled Pyrrha to the bone. It sent a charge through every nerve and fibre of her body. It rang like a great tolling bell within her mind, echoing back and forth within her and filling her head with such terrible thoughts … It was like Mountain Glenn all over again, it was like when they had confronted Salem, when she had played with them, ensorcelled them, when her words had been her swords to conjure visions that undid their courage. Just as Salem's words then, so too the awful shrieking of the dragon now.

Pyrrha dropped to her knees, the grimm around her seeming to almost disappear from view. Akoúo̱ tumbled from her grasp to land on the grass beside her; she barely retained her grip on Miló. Where … why did she half see Mistral before her eyes? Was she in the fields before Vale's walls, or was she back home, watching that home wreathed in flame, smoke rising from every part of the slopes? Jaune, Jaune lay before her, Jaune with his back bloody and rent with wounds, Jaune's bones visible sticking up through torn skin and shredded garments—

Oh Gods, take it away! Take it from my eyes and let me see it nevermore. Or, if you will not, take instead my eyes that I may never see such sights again, but do not let such horror linger in my gaze!

Forbid it.

Have mercy.

Spare me.

Spare him.

There was no sparing, no mercy, no one stepping in to forbid the sight; there was only Jaune in her mind's eye, lying before her, half dead or more than half, the victim of such savagery that it made Pyrrha want to wretch and vomit 'til her guts were raw. He reached for her with one feeble, frail, and trembling hand; his eyes — what she could see of his eyes, for one was covered in blood that had streamed down his face — were fixed on hers, imploring her to save him, accusing her of having failed to protect him.

He mouthed her name, though the word itself did not come from his silent lips.

Tears welled up in Pyrrha's eyes and began to fall down her cheeks.

Pyrrha knelt upon the ground, weeping, trembling, visions of horror dancing before her eyes. Sunset looked back at her with lifeless eyes; Soteria had been driven through her chest, and her arms were spread out on either side of her as though she had been welcoming the end when it came, but her mouth hung open with surprise, like a flopping fish, and gave the lie to any sense of welcome. Pyrrha's mother was curled up in a ball on the ground, like a babe, huddled for warmth, comfort, or an illusory sense of safety. Penny's cries were childlike as she was torn to pieces, sparks and bolts flying as her limbs were ripped asunder. Arslan lay like the Red Lion in the famous painting, surrounded by grimm who would not decompose, dead amongst her fallen enemies, but quite dead all the same, the wounds upon her chest and face attesting to it with so much blood that only her messy mane cried out that it was Arslan.

And from the burning streets, the piteous cry went up, demanding to know why their champion, their princess, the repository of all their pride and hopes had not saved them from this fate.

Because she could not save them. Because the shrieking of the grimm had stolen all her courage and her heart away.

Pyrrha knelt upon the ground with weighted limbs, still, rigid, held down by fear, and all around her, the valour of old Mistral withered, and the heroism of Beacon turned to ash in the flame of the dragon's shrieking.

The grimm fell back but slightly as the dragon landed, its wings beating heavily. It was still shrieking as it crushed Bolin Hori underfoot. The dragon surveyed the field as master of it. Pyrrha had sunk to her knees, while Jaune had thrown himself onto both hands and knees, crying out in horror as he shook and swayed and pounded at the earth with his fists as though he had seized with lycanthropia; Penny hugged herself while the swords of Floating Array lay limp upon their wires behind her; Ren was fled in terror, and Nora ran after him, crying his name; Yang was frozen, mouth open, eyes dead and lifeless; Arslan had fallen backwards and now scrambled back, hands scratching at the dirt, feet kicking at the grass, seemingly unable to get up.

Some fled. Others trembled. All were rendered harmless, none fired or attacked with sword or spear, none were capable of fight, all were undone by the vile shrieking of the dragon.

All save one.

Ruby alone stood her ground before it. She, too, trembled, just as so many others did; tears streamed down her face in vigorous rivers. Her breathing came heavily, her chest rising and falling. But she stood up, however much her lithe and frail-seeming form might shake like a sycamore tree buffeted by strong winds, yet she stood up, with Crescent Rose gripped tight in her trembling hands.

The dragon was still shrieking, the dread sound still coming out of its mouth, as it lowered its head to stare at her with baleful red eyes.

Ruby answered the dragon's shriek with a shriek of her own, a piercing cry torn from her throat that somehow managed to rise above the dragon's shriek to reach Pyrrha's ears.

Ruby shrieked, and she charged forwards, Crescent Rose drawn back, rose petals falling after her like drops of blood to stain the ground behind her.

Ruby charged, swinging her scythe as far as it could go; the dragon raised its head, the shriek dying from its throat, replaced by a mumbled noise of confusion; the dragon raised its head and its long neck up out of the Ruby's scythe as she rushed on, as undaunted as she was unboosted by Jaune's semblance, and instead of the neck, she slashed with Crescent Rose at the dragon's leg. She buried the blade of her scythe in the black of the dragon's flesh, but the dragon gave no roar of pain, no howl of outrage; it only snapped at Ruby, trying to close its enormous jaws around her.

Ruby darted away, leaving more rosepetals after her, some of them even landing on the dragon's bony head as its jaw snapped shut, to mingle with the real blood that stained the bleached white bone.

Not Ruby's blood. Not hers, not yet.

Ruby danced away, and as she danced, she twirled, her cloak a-flutter 'round her and slashed at the dragon's hamstring, or where that would have been if it had such. Again, the dragon made no noise of response; it only acted, starting to turn its bulky form around to keep Ruby in front of it instead of behind.

But Ruby was too swift; she was much too swift, and swifter still because of her semblance. The dragon might be swift in the air, it might even be nimble on the wing, but here upon the ground, it was a lumbering behemoth of a thing, trailing behind Ruby as it tried to keep up with her. Meanwhile, Ruby struck again and again, an increasing number of steps ahead as Crescent Rose lashed out here, there.

It wasn't clear how much harm she was doing to the dragon, but it was rather magnificent to watch nonetheless: the way she danced around it; the way the rosepetals fell behind her, swirled around her, the way they marked the pattern of her movements along the ground; the way Crescent Rose blurred into a red ring as she spun it around her hands; the almost idle fashion in which Ruby cut down the juvenile grimm that sprung from the puddles of ichor that dripped from the dragon without ever seeming to divert her attention from the dragon itself; the swift elegance of the huntress contrasted with the sluggish, ungainly totterings of the grimm that was too slow to—

The dragon's tail, tipped with three finger-like claws, whipped out with a speed unlike anything the dragon had displayed before to wrap around Ruby's waist.

The dragon laughed, a dreadful, cacophonous sound, as it lifted Ruby up into the air towards its face. She struggled in its grip but could not break it.

Miló flew through the air as Pyrrha threw it from her hand; the spear buried itself in the dragon's tail as Pyrrha rose from her knees and charged towards the dragon. Ruby's example had put courage in her; if Ruby could fight on despite whatever it was the dragon's shriek had filled her mind with, then so could Pyrrha. Certainly, she couldn’t simply stay kneeling on the ground and watch Ruby die by jaws or by the crushing tail or by the dragon's brutal breath.

Miló buried itself in the dragon's tail, just before the tip where it held Ruby; it did not cause the dragon to relinquish its grip upon her, but it did cause the dragon to swing its immense head, larger than a Bullhead, in Pyrrha's direction.

"No!" Ruby shouted. "Pyrrha, get away!"

Pyrrha ignored her — as she had more often than not ignored Ruby, that had been a large root of many noxious flowers that had grown between them, but in this specific case, she felt herself more justified than she had perhaps been in the past; she flung out her hand, a black outline of Polarity surrounding it as she grasped for a large chunk of the wreckage of the Zhenshou, a lagged hunk of battleship armour plating. Pyrrha tore it from where it stood upright in the ground, and with her semblance, she hurled it through the air, slicing an ursa major in half as it went, towards the dragon.

She had hoped to, if not slice the dragon's head off with it, then at the very least to put a nasty cut on its neck equal to the brutal scar that marred the dragon's side; but as the slice of metal with so many sharp edges flew towards it, the dragon turned its head with a speed it had never displayed when chasing Ruby — that was beginning to look like holding back for its own amusement — and chomped down its massive jaws upon the armour plate.

The metal crumpled, rising in some places and falling in others around the dragon's mouth where the grimm bit into the plate.

The grimm made no sound as it shook its head and threw the metal back at Pyrrha. Pyrrha leapt up, tucking her legs up beneath her, her whole body rolling, just managing to avoid the immense metal slab that flew beneath; it disturbed her sash with its passage, but it did not strike her, nor take any of her aura.

It did leave her in mid-leap, legs tucked up beneath her, whole body caught in a sort of roll as the dragon stretched out its neck and opened its mouth to swallow her.

The swords of Floating Array slammed into the dragon's neck just behind the armoured head. The wires were stretched taut as Penny hauled back on swords and on what the swords had struck alike.

For a moment only, she held the dragon fast, but a moment was all that Pyrrha needed to land safely on the ground and summon Miló back into her hand.

The dragon flicked its head, a sharp movement that would have pulled Penny off her feet if Penny hadn't withdrawn her swords a fraction of a second earlier. The dragon swiped its tail in Pyrrha's direction, but Pyrrha vaulted over it, stabbing quickly and lightly down into the tail with Miló before throwing Akoúo̱ into the head of a beowolf rising from a pool of ichor, killing it instantly.

A growl of irritation rose from the dragon's throat — and then stopped, abruptly, sound snatched away. The dragon froze, head turned towards Penny, mouth half open, Ruby still gripped in its tail, but nothing — not head, or tail, or wings, or feet — moving at all. The only movement from the dragon came from the black droplets that continued to drip, drip, drip like a leaky tap down onto the ground beneath it.

Umber Gorgoneion stalked forwards. Her sunglasses were off, held loosely in one hand; the flaps of her leather jack rose and fell somewhat with her steps. She kept her eyes fixed upon the dragon, staring right into its smouldering left eye.

"I can feel its resistance," she muttered. "I've never restrained something this big before." She raised her voice a little. "Any time you would like to kill it would be agreeable."

Their plan had been for Ruby to kill it, and Ruby remained held fast in the grip of the dragon's immobilised tail.

"Pyrrha, try and free Ruby," Penny ordered. "I'll do what I can." She began the swords of Floating Array around and around in a circle, the whirling ring of blades held perpendicular to her so that they formed a sort of saw, a saw which she aimed at the dragon's neck and began to move upwards through the air towards it.

Pyrrha did not have time to watch Penny work, though she hoped that for anyone with that luxury it would be an enjoyable performance. For her part, she leapt up onto the dragon's tail and scrambled up it where it curved skywards, using the little protrusions of bone for handholds and footholds, until she had reached where Ruby squirmed and wriggled in the grip of its claws.

"Ruby," Pyrrha said mildly, wrapping her legs around the dragon's tail and gripping with her knees so that he didn't fall as she grasped one of the three claws with both hands and tried to pull it away.

It didn't budge.

Ruby huffed and pushed against the claw herself. "You shouldn't have done that. Charged it the way you did."

"Should I have let you die?" Pyrrha asked. "Don't answer that."

Ruby grunted with the futile effort of pushing at the dragon's claw. "I don't want Jaune to hate me for your death any more than I want you to blame me for his," she said. "I don't want to live with that on my conscience the way that … I don't want to live with that."

Pyrrha pulled, gripping even tighter with her knees in the hope that if she only held on better, then she would have more leverage. It didn't work; the claw didn't move, not a single inch or less. "I'm sure that Jaune wouldn't…" She paused. Pyrrha swallowed. "Ruby, do you think that if I'd been more honest with you, then things would have turned out better between us?"

Perhaps if I had told you ‘No, I disagree, and I’m afraid you cannot convince me otherwise,’ then you might not have liked the answer, but you would have had no grounds to feel condescended to.

Pyrrha felt that perhaps the question of whether it was the condescension or the disagreement that had driven Ruby away was like asking whether it was the blade or the blood loss that killed Juturna, but at the very least, she thought it would have prevented some ill feeling.

You might still have wanted to leave, but perhaps under less of a stormy sky.

Ruby hesitated. "I think a little more honesty would have been better for everyone, yeah."

"Then don't be ridiculous, Ruby. The only way Jaune would blame you for my passing is if you shot me yourself."

Ruby let out a strangled laugh. "That’s a little hard to do right now."

Pyrrha didn't respond to that. She was pulling on the claw that would not move. It was as solid as steel; worse, because with steel, Pyrrha could have used her semblance on it; this claw was … it was frozen solid.

Like the dragon, thanks to Umber's semblance.

Yang, Pyrrha recalled, had been similarly frozen, utterly rigid; Umber had been able to hoist Yang up by the neck and throw her out of the ring, but even when was picked up, Yang had remained stuck in the same posture in which she had been frozen.

Just like the dragon had been frozen, with its claws wrapped around Ruby.

But there has to be a way to get her out of here.

The grimm roared and howled as they came to the rescue of the embattled dragon, closing in from all sides as they fought to not lose their second leader of this one battle.

They were met by the huntsmen of Beacon and Haven, who once had scattered like cockroaches but now converged upon the dragon even as the grimm were doing, surrounding it with a ring of swords and guns to hold the grimm at bay, while others fought to despatch the juvenile that arose from the ichor that the dragon dripped upon the grass.

Some beowolves broke through, joining newborn beowolves around the dragon's tail, trying to climb up. Jaune attacked them, Crocea Mors raised high as he slashed down to cut the head off a juvenile beowolf and stabbed another squarely through the chest.

Well done, Jaune!

An older beowolf, one with some white armour on its black body, slashed at him with a paw, but Jaune took the blow upon his shield, turning the stroke and slashing down to slice the beowolf's arm clean off.

Another juvenile rose behind him out of a fast-disappearing pool of oily darkness.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha cried. "Behind you!"

Jaune turned, too late; the beowolf had already leapt upon his back, dark claws scrabbling up and down his body, mouth closing around his neck. Jaune cried out as he flailed wildly, and the other beowolves closed in.

"Go!" Ruby yelled.

Pyrrha went, letting go with her legs and dropping rapidly down from the dragon's tail. She flung Akoúo̱ towards the closest beowolf not on top of Jaune himself, then like a descending thunderbolt, she drove the tip of Miló through the juvenile beowolf's head without touching Jaune or his aura.

She tore through the remaining beowolves in short order, red sash whirling and gold armour gleaming, striking them down each with a single blow.

"Try and get up and help Ruby," she said to Jaune. "I'll stay here in case any more grimm get through. How's it going, Penny?"

"Um, it's a little hard to say," Penny admitted.

A quick glance from Pyrrha confirmed that it was as hard to see as it was to say: Penny's whirling blades were flying into the dragon's neck, but they did not seem to be cutting very deep; when or if she would sever its head was an open question.

They needed to free Ruby, if that was at all possible while the dragon remained frozen by Umber.

"I'll get her out," Yang said, falling back from the fighting, backing towards the grimm's tail. "I'm probably stronger than you are, no offence."

"None taken."

"Hang on, Ruby, I'll be right there," Yang said, and she fired her gauntlets down at the ground to launch herself up without the need to climb the tail as Pyrrha had done. Once she got up there, she held herself by the arm, not the legs, wrapping one hand around the tail while using the other to pull at one of its claws.

Her bicep bulged, but she seemed to be having no better luck than Pyrrha had enjoyed.

The grimm continued to push forwards, trying to break through the huntsmen and huntresses to reach the dragon, and even frozen, the dragon continued to disgorge new grimm — did it never stop sweating? — to attack the students from behind. There was soon more than enough to occupy Pyrrha and Jaune without being able to keep watch on Ruby and Yang.

The grimm pressed most fiercely against Umber Gorgoneion; were they intelligent enough to realise, to be able to work out, that she was the one responsible for the dragon's condition, and that if they could bring her down, then their champion would be free once more? It seemed strange to even contemplate it, but it was the only explanation for why they centred their assault upon her. Her teammates did their best to defend her: her mouse faunus teammate slashed at the grimm with a fencing sabre, and at one point seemed to disappear completely before reappearing, or regrowing to full size, underneath an ursa, impaling it through its belly from below; another mouse faunus, a girl this time, laid about her with a rope with a knot at one end, cracking the skulls of stormvermin despite the slightness of the weapon; her last teammate, a bird faunus with wings spreading out behind him, fought with both a spear and a golden sword. They all fought bravely and with skill to keep Umber safe and undisturbed while she pinned down the dragon, but the grimm were so numerous that a beowolf slipped past and slammed into Umber from the side, bearing her to the ground.

The dragon roared to life once more, thrusting its head up towards the sky and bellowing out its freedom to the battlefield.

Then it turned its gaze on Ruby and Yang.

Ruby was still caught within the claws of the dragon’s tail; Yang was still holding onto that tail with one hand, trying to pull Ruby free with the other to no avail.

She was still trying even as she looked anxiously towards the dragon as it glared at them.

Pyrrha turned away from the battle and began to slash furiously at the dragon’s tail, trying to cut it off, or at least make the grimm drop Ruby. Jaune joined her, his sword-arm glowing as he used his semblance to strengthen himself.

The dragon swished its tail, knocking Jaune off his feet and onto the ground; Pyrrha just about managed to leap over the swiping tail, but only just — with so little notice, she didn’t quite make the jump, the toe of one foot caught a jutting spur of bone, and she, too, was sent flying. Pyrrha thrust out her arms and rolled on landing, turning on her toes to face the dragon once more.

Turning in time to see the dragon flick its tail furiously upwards, throwing Ruby and Yang up into the air.

It lunged for them both, jaws open.

Ruby had dropped Crescent Rose when she was first grabbed, but Yang still had her Ember Celica attached to both wrists, and she fired them both, not at the dragon but backwards behind her, blasting her through the air towards her sister.

The dragon’s mouth came swiftly on.

Pyrrha transformed Miló into rifle mode and fired every shot in the magazine, but she might as well have been whistling for all the notice that the dragon took.

Yang reached Ruby where she flailed in the air, reaching out with one hand to bat her away as though she were the ball in a volleyball match.

There was a flickering black and red light within the dragon’s mouth as it began to close.

Yang fired her Ember Celica once again, pushing herself onwards, and—

The dragon’s jaws slammed shut.

The dragon’s jaws slammed shut, enclosing Yang within the monster’s mouth.

The dragon’s jaws slammed shut on Yang.

And Yang was gone.

Author's Note

Yang's death happens a bit differently here than in the original, but I think it makes sense in both place within the story and the manner of it.

I think they're plan to kill the dragon was not a bad one, and stood a reasonable chance of working if circumstances hadn't intervened. I certainly wouldn't say it was foolish of them to try, just that they were taken by surprise by the extent of the dragon's power.

This chapter preserves the moment of Ruby being immune to the dragon's shriek, which in this version builds on the way that Ren described Ruby as being without fear during their search for the apex alpha.

Dulce et Decorum Est? (New)

Dulce et Decorum Est?

Yang was…

Yang was…

It had happened so fast, the dragon waking up, turning its angry look on them—

"You need to go! Jump!"

"Not without you!"

The dragon throwing them into the air by its tail, Ruby spinning wildly, wishing so desperately that she still had hold of Crescent Rose.

"Ruby, I've got you!"

Yang flying up towards her, driven by the blasts of Ember Celica.

The dragon's mouth rushing towards them.

It had happened so fast, and then … then it had been so slow.

She could remember every detail on Yang's face. She would always remember. Every line on her face, every strand of her hair, every glimmer of light in her eyes. Every fold of her clothes. The way her hair, so long and thick and lush, flew out behind her as she flew.

The way the fabric of her fingerless glove was stretched across her hand as she spread her fingers out and reached out to push Ruby away.

The look of relief on her face as Ruby was shoved out of the path of the dragon's jaws.

While she was not.

Everything had been so slow. Slow enough for Ruby to take in everything, every last little thing.

She would never forget this moment, this second.

It had been so slow, and then it was so fast. The dragon's jaws slammed shut before Yang, having saved Ruby, could escape herself. They closed around her and now…

And now…

Yang was…

Her sister was…

Ruby landed heavily on the ground, bouncing once, landing on her back, looking up at the dragon.

The dragon that had just…

That had just…

The dragon that had devoured her sister.

Yang had been … Yang was.

Dead.

Yang was dead and gone and—

Not yet. Not yet!

The dragon's jaws had closed on Yang, but that didn't mean that she was gone, not yet. Sunset had been swallowed by those grimm worms underneath Mountain Glenn, but they'd gotten her out again because just because a grimm ate you didn't mean that you were necessarily dead just yet, not if you still had aura. Yang would be unconscious right now, paralysed, unable to free herself, but that didn't mean that she couldn't be freed; if they could kill the dragon quickly, then she still had a chance.

Kill the dragon quickly.

Kill the dragon that they couldn't even seem to really hurt, that hardly felt anything that they did to it, that Penny's best shot could barely scratch.

Kill the dragon that all the power of the Atlesians couldn't put down, that had destroyed their airships and maybe more, probably more.

Kill the dragon, or Yang…

Or Yang would be lost.

Yang would be dead.

Yang would be gone and all…

All her…

Yang…

They couldn't kill the dragon, their weapons weren't strong enough; in fact, far from being able to save Yang, it was looking like they might not be able to save themselves, with the grimm all around them and the dragon in the middle of them.

Ruby was looking right up at the dragon as she lay on the ground, looking up at the grimm that had swallowed Yang whole, the dragon that they had to kill to save Yang and yet could not kill though their lives depended on it, the dragon that would kill them all.

The dragon that was laughing, laughing triumphantly, making that sound that grated Ruby's ears—

Yang's laugh had been so sweet, like honey trickling off a spoon into the porridge bowl beneath; and like the porridge itself, it had been warm, too.

The dragon stopped laughing and looked down at the huntsmen and huntresses fighting below.

A yellow glow began to fill its mouth.

The beam. The beam that would kill everyone.

And Yang would die, unless…

Ruby felt power rising within her, felt a light from within herself glowing brighter and brighter, rushing up and out from the depths of her soul towards her eyes. She heard the song within, a fast song born of desperation, all rapid strings just this side of discordant, playing in the pitch of the scream of fear and anger that ripped from her mouth.

The light rose up within her and shone so brightly it consumed the world.

Nothing but the light, nothing in view, just brightness, and no sound but the pained cries of the—

Ruby felt something heavy strike her on the head, and then everything went black.

"Ruby! Ruby?"

Ruby groaned softly, shifting her body a little; she felt a little uncomfortable where she was, wherever that was now.

Where am I?

Ruby frowned, though her eyes remained closed. What she remembered was…

Maybe I dreamed it. Maybe I'll open my eyes, and I'll be in the dorm room, and the last day of the Vytal Tournament will be about to start. Maybe I dreamed today, and all tonight, and I can ask Pyrrha if Cinder said anything about Amber, and ask Amber if there's anything she'd like to say to us.

Maybe I dreamed more than that. Maybe I dreamed it all, and I'll wake up in my own bed back home, and Yang will tell me that it's time to catch our flight to Beacon.

Maybe I dreamed all of this, and I can wake up and do it better.

That would be wonderful. That would be the greatest gift, the greatest thing, that I could possibly imagine.

But this place, wherever it was, felt less comfortable than her bed. Maybe, maybe if she shifted a little bit.

"She definitely moved that time! She's waking up!"

Penny.

"Ruby? Ruby, can you hear us?"

Jaune.

So it wasn't a dream. Beacon hadn't been a dream. Jaune and Penny hadn't been a dream, they were real, and they were with her.

Unless this is still a dream.

No. No, it's not a dream. It's my life. It's all been real.

Unless…

Ruby opened her eyes. There was no Beacon dorm room ceiling above her, just a starry sky and a few wisps of cloud and Jaune's face above her looking down and Penny beside him.

"Ruby!" Penny cried. "You're back! After what happened at Mountain Glenn, Jaune was worried that you were going to be sleeping for a while."

"Well, I didn't know how long you'd be out for," Jaune said. "It was a while last time."

Ruby realised that the uncomfortable position that she was in was being carried in Jaune's arms, bridal style, being bumped gently up and down as he carried her; the sky, the stars up above, they were moving, or rather, she was moving, being carried westward, in the direction of Vale.

"You're carrying me, right?" Ruby asked softly.

Jaune nodded. "You weren't exactly in a position to walk anywhere."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "But I think you can put me down, now."

"Oh. Yeah, right," Jaune said, stopping to let Ruby down out of his arms and put her down on the floor.

Ruby felt a little unsteady when her feet touched the ground; when Jaune let go of her, she swayed just a bit, and Penny grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

"I'm fine, Penny," Ruby insisted.

"Are you sure?" asked Penny.

"Yes," Ruby replied. "Thanks, but I'm okay."

Penny hesitated for a second, before she said, "Okay."

Penny let go, and Ruby took a step away from her. She felt … she felt light-headed, like she hadn't slept well the night before, or she hadn't eaten enough, or like she was coming down from a sugar high. Her head was spinning, or rather, her mind felt like it was spinning in her head, making balance a little more of an effort than usual.

That cleared after a couple of seconds, but Ruby was left with the light-headed feeling, the sensation that might become a headache or might be all that remained of a headache, the feeling of needles in her head, the feeling of sort of fuzziness chafing at her mind, making thinking straight … not hard exactly, but harder for sure.

Ruby wouldn't say that it hurt, but it certainly wasn't pleasant either, and Ruby wished that it would go away as soon as possible. She needed to be able to think clearly, especially now, especially if…

Ruby looked around. All around her, around them, were the huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon and Haven. With them, too, were a few Mistralian soldiers in their blue uniforms; they still had their weapons, but they had hollow looks in their eyes, they glanced around furtively, they started at so much noise as the snapping of a twig under foot. They looked scared, they looked worse than scared, they looked shattered, and Ruby thought that it was likely that if anything happened, they would run, the same way that the Valish soldiers had run when the grimm attacked.

Considering what the dragon had done to them, the Mistralians had at least as good an excuse as the Valish did, and Ruby hadn't thought the Valish were to blame at all.

As for the huntsmen and huntresses, as for the students of the two schools, they didn't exactly look free from fear themselves, or like paragons of enthusiasm. Nobody looked as though they were burning with eagerness to return to the fray, wherever that was. They were all moving towards Vale, not away from it, but at the same time, they were all moving that way without any sign or sound of the grimm. Nobody was fighting, nobody was even firing a weapon, they were all just moving westwards like a migrating herd.

But they didn't look broken. At least Ruby didn't think they did. They didn't look as frightened as the soldiers, and Ruby really hoped that that wasn't just wishful thinking on her part, that they actually were more stalwart, that they still had courage in them.

Although what they would do with any courage that they possessed … standing their ground and fighting hadn't done them a lot of good the last time, had it?

Or had it? Ruby didn't know. She didn't know why everyone was moving back to Vale, she didn't know what happened between the light and the darkness and her waking up. All she knew was that she couldn't see Yang anywhere.

For that matter, she couldn't see Pyrrha either, though she looked all around for her.

"What happened?" Ruby asked. "Where's Pyrrha?"

"Pyrrha's behind us, with Arslan, Ren, and Nora," Jaune said. "They're the rear guard." He put a hand on her back, and gently nudged her westwards. "We should keep moving."

Ruby consented to be nudged, and then walked forwards so that didn't need to be nudged anymore, but kept her eyes fixed on Jaune, with the odd glance towards Penny. "The rearguard," she murmured. "What did I miss?"

"There was a bright light," Penny said. "Coming from your eyes. Like wings of light."

"You were trying to use them, right?" Jaune asked. "Your silver eyes, you were trying to use them?"

Ruby nodded. "I thought that if we killed the dragon, then we could pull Yang out of it, still alive. And I was afraid that if I didn't kill it, if someone didn't kill it — and that someone was going to have to be me since it felt like we'd tried everything else — then everyone else was going to die." She paused. "Then I felt something hit me on the head."

"The dragon," Jaune said. "It whacked you with its tail before you could … it was hard to see; it looked like it might have had little bits of stone growing on parts of its body, but not enough."

"But you turned a lot of other grimm to stone!" Penny informed her. "If you hadn't, then it might have been a lot harder for us to get out, but thanks to you … I'm pretty sure it's thanks to you that we've been able to get away. The grimm are scared of you."

"'Get away'?" Ruby repeated. "So, the dragon hit me and knocked me unconscious?"

"I guess so," answered Jaune. "Which might be why you woke up so fast, compared with how long you were unconscious when you used your eyes in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn." He frowned. "But shouldn't your aura have protected you? Taken the hit from the dragon and let you carry on?"

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Ruby muttered. "Maybe … maybe my silver eyes weaken my aura, suppress it, or—"

"If your aura was being suppressed, the dragon's tail would have smashed your skull," Penny pointed out. "But you don't even have a bruise on your face."

Ruby reached up and rubbed her forehead with one hand. "I … well, I don't know, then. I guess it doesn't really matter; it is what it is. It seems like I'm just vulnerable when I use my silver eyes, just not vulnerable enough to kill me. It's not great, but … can't argue with it now. But what happened after that, after I blacked out?"

"The dragon took off," Jaune told her. "Literally. I think you must have hurt it, even if you didn't kill it, and it didn't feel like being around anymore. It shot up into the sky and headed back the way that it had come. We haven't seen it since."

"'Since'?" Ruby asked. "How long have I been out?"

"Ten? Fifteen minutes?" Jaune guessed.

"Eighteen minutes and thirty-six seconds," Penny clarified.

"Like Penny said, you might not have got the dragon, but you did turn a lot of other grimm to stone," Jaune explained. "So we grabbed you—"

"And Crescent Rose this time," Penny said, holding the weapon, folded up into its carbine configuration, out to her.

"Thanks," Ruby said softly, reaching out to take the weapon from Penny's hands. It felt heavy in Ruby's grip, heavier than normal; Ruby put that down to the light-headedness, to the post-nap unease and discomfort that she felt, and hoped very much that it, too, would go away. "You were saying?"

"We smashed our way through the grimm behind us, and since then, we've been moving back towards Vale," Jaune said. "We picked up the survivors of the Mistralian forces, but no Polemarch."

"And no Yang either," Ruby said softly, her voice little more than a whisper.

The faces of Jaune and Penny fell, but before either of them could speak, there was a sound, the crack of a gunshot, Miló being fired in its rifle mode.

Jaune, Penny, Ruby, and all the other students stopped as well; the soldiers too, though they looked ready to run, while the other huntsmen and huntresses looked — more or less — ready to fight.

They waited, expectant, for more gunshots, for calls for help or wordless battle cries, for something, anything. But there was nothing. The sound of the gunshot faded, and the silence returned.

"The grimm are pursuing," Jaune explained. "But slowly, cautiously; they're not coming in a big rush. That's why Pyrrha and the others can hold them off; they're playing it safe. I think we have you to thank for that." He paused, glancing away from Ruby. "But … yeah. You're right. Yang … maybe if the dragon had died, then she would have been … but the dragon's gone, and…"

"And Yang's gone too," Ruby said, as quietly as the beating of a bird's wings.

Because she was. There was no doubting that now, no arguing with it, no hoping that it might be otherwise. The dragon was gone, which meant that Yang was gone too. You didn't get that many chances to save someone who'd been swallowed whole by a grimm; it was really only if you could get them out straight away, or near enough, otherwise … Yang's aura would be gone, and Yang…

Ruby didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about how Yang had died, how her sister had been lost to her; it was bad enough that … it was enough that she was gone.

Yang was gone.

Yang was dead.

"Ruby," Penny began, reaching out to her.

Ruby took a step back, holding up her hands. "I just…" she said, trailing off. "I need to … I'm sorry."

She turned away, her pace quickening for a few steps as she walked away from Jaune and Penny, moving forwards amongst the retreating mass of huntsmen and huntresses and hollow-eyed Mistralian soldiers who trudged their weary way west towards the walls of Vale and its Red Line.

Was she as hollow-eyed as those soldiers? Ruby didn't know. She couldn't see herself, she had no mirror; even if she had one, she might not have wanted to look.

Yang was dead.

Yang had died for her.

That … perhaps no one else would have understood this, perhaps no one else would have wanted to hear it, perhaps Ruby was weird or strange for feeling this way, but that was the part that stung the most, that hurt the most, the thing that stabbed her heart and twisted the blade inside the wound was that Yang had died for her.

Died for Ruby.

Death, to die … Ruby wouldn't go so far as to say that to die would be a grand adventure, but nor would she, like some people, fly from it in terror and disgust. Death was not something to be sought, but nor, in the right circumstances, was it something to be shrunk from. Death was, sacrifice was, to give your life was sometimes necessary. That was the old truth, that it was sweet and fitting to die for … for Vale? Perhaps, if Vale was being well governed and the people were happy with their lot and land. For Beacon? In as much as Beacon represented the future of huntsmen and huntresses who would take up the torch when you were gone, then Ruby supposed so. For the people? Yes, always, always for the people, to sacrifice for the people was indeed and without doubt sweet and fitting, the sweetest and most fitting sacrifice that could be made, perhaps the sweetest and most fitting thing that could be done.

But for Ruby?

Death alone, death in the right cause, death for a good and necessary reason, the mere fact of death or loss was no cause for … Ruby would not say it was no cause for grief or sadness; that would be too much. It was too much; it was too much for herself; even had Yang perished in the most noble, valiant, fitting, proper, and all things righteous manner imaginable, throwing her body between ten thousand innocents and the path of harm, even then, Ruby would have been sad. Even then, there would have been an emptiness in her, an absence. Even then, grief would have filled up Yang's room, walked up and down with her, filled out her clothes and remembered Ruby of all her sister's best qualities. Remembered Ruby and her father too. There would have been a stone, on the clifftop, besides Mom's memorial, a remembrance that would last while they themselves should live, and afterwards, until their cabin should crumble and strangers would come to the cliff and wonder at the names of Summer Rose and Yang Xiao Long, who they were and when they lived and how they lived and myriad other questions besides. Until the stones were overgrown, covered with vines and weeds, cracked by the wind and rain and the words no longer legible.

There would be sadness; there would always be sadness, no matter how Yang had died, no matter how nobly and well she had met her end, no matter what Ruby would be sad. How could she not, her sister being…?

Tears began to trickle down her face. Ruby did not trouble to wipe them away, knowing that even if she did so, more of them would be along in a moment.

Her heart was not made of stone. She had a heart, as others did, though unlike some, she was not governed by its impulses. She had a heart, and in her heart, she felt … joy, anger, courage, even fear sometimes, though she flattered herself that she felt less of it than other, lesser people.

And sorrow. She felt sorrow also, having a heart and cause for sorrow.

She would feel sorrow, though Yang had died so well, though the wellness of her passing might have dulled the sorrow a little.

If she had, if Yang had died in a manner that Ruby might be proud of, no, that was wrong, the pride came second; if Yang had died for … if Yang had died well, died better, died full of the glories of a huntress, fulfilling the purpose of a huntress, died in a manner befitting the best of huntresses, then Ruby would have felt pride as well as sorrow. Dad, too, could have felt proud, for it was no shameful thing indeed to send your daughters out to die for the people, facing the monsters that dwelt in darkness. It was something to raise your head and take great pride in, as it was when your mother had walked that road before.

Yang would have given them reason to be fond of grief, had she died well.

But Yang had … Yang had not died well.

Yang had died for Ruby.

Died … for Ruby. Died for Ruby.

Died … for her.

What … what madness was this? What foolish folly, to die for Ruby Rose? Of all people in Remnant? To die saving but one life, and that one life … hers.

Her life worth saving. Her life worth sacrificing another life to preserve, Yang's life. Why?

Why?

What … stupidity.

You idiot! Moron!

To die for Ruby, of all things, of all people.

Ruby could not feel pride in this, could not hold her head up high, no; she couldn't even feel only sad about this; she felt angry! Furious! Angry at Yang … and angry at herself.

How could she be worth saving? How could she be worth Yang's death? Yang was … Yang had been the sun, the light and warmth to which the flowers turned and opened, blooming in their radiant beauty; look at Nora, look at Ren, how Yang had made them hers.

Yang had been the sun, while she, while Ruby, was moonless midnight's witching hour, black and lightless, when and where no sensible soul would stir but lock their doors and keep the dust lamps burning. Love, which came so easily to Yang, had forsaken Ruby. Who would say to her, honestly, 'I'm glad that you're alive, though Yang is dead'? Would even her own father see it so, or say it?

Why should the sun sacrifice itself for moonless night? Why should the night endure while the sun perished? Who loved the night? Who preferred black night to sunny day?

What light would chase away the dark now that Yang was gone, and who would thank the night for enduring her absence?

All preferred the sun, the rising sun, the setting sun, the bright sun that illuminated the blue skies, and yet, the sun had died for darkness, which no one wished to see but to see gone.

The sun had died for her.

Why? Why was I worth that, why was I worth you? All my worth is as a huntress, and as a huntress, you should have let me die.

To die trying to kill that grimm and save everyone, that would have been a death worthy of a huntress.

Instead, I have to live with the fact that I'm the reason you're not here.

How am I supposed to do that, Yang? How am I supposed to live with your weight on my shoulders?

There was no answer from Yang, no ghostly response from out of the clouds, no reply from any god above or below, no crash of thunder, no still small voice, nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but Ruby herself, her thoughts, her feelings, her whirl of feelings, her forceful feelings, her overwhelming feelings, her feelings that she dared not think aloud lest she be thought a monster.

Yang would never answer her again. There was no one she could turn to but herself. Ruby closed her eyes, and sank to knees on the cold ground, grass crumpling beneath her weight. She bowed her head, chin resting on the chest of her black tunic.

I hate that you loved me enough to do this, but not enough to let me go.

Strong arms enfolded her from in front. At first, without seeing, Ruby felt it must be Jaune or Penny come to offer her some misguided comfort, but the arms that had closed around her felt stronger than Jaune's, while at the same time, they didn't feel like Penny's grip; it wasn't so tight, or … no offence to Penny, but she had kind of a hard body, and that went for her arms as well.

The arms around her were strong, but they were shaking; the whole body that pressed against her was trembling like a leaf.

Ruby's eyes remained closed as her hands travelled upwards, her fingertips feeling bare skin just below the shoulders, and then some sort of plastic-feeling substance.

Ruby opened her eyes. It was Nora holding her, Nora kneeling with her arms around Ruby, Nora shaking like a tree buffeted by strong winds.

Nora sobbing.

"Nora?" Ruby asked. "I thought … Jaune told me you were at the rear, with—"

"We were," Pyrrha answered from behind; Ruby had to twist her neck — and her shoulders as much as Nora's grip would let her — to see her. "But the grimm have broken contact, for now; I feared that we might be cut off, so we fell back. We will stand here and let the rest of you go on, if…" She glanced at Nora but said nothing. Instead, after a pause, she said, "I … I am as sorry for Yang as I am glad to see you awake. Anything that I can—?"

"Thank you," Ruby said softly. "Really, but there's nothing you can do."

There's nothing anyone can do.

"Ruby," Ren murmured, shuffling shamefacedly over to her. He did not meet her eyes, he did not even seem to look at her; if he hadn't said her name, then she wouldn't have known for sure that he was speaking to her at all and not talking to someone else while just happening to stand by her. "I … I'm so sorry. If I hadn't gotten so scared then—"

"It's not your fault," Ruby said. "You can't blame yourself for falling victim to the dragon's power; everyone did."

"You didn't," Ren pointed out. "You fought when everyone else cowered or ran; everyone says so."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't scared," Ruby told him.

When the dragon had begun to shriek, she had seen her mother, standing on the cliff-face where her memorial stone stood, surrounded by stormy skies, dark, brooding clouds, strong winds that buffeted her white cape and threatened to blow her off the cliff and out to sea. As the dragon cried out, Ruby had seen her mother blown away, blown away though Ruby tried to reach for her; she had seen Salem under Mountain Glenn and felt as she had felt then when Salem had turned her power upon her — upon them all. As the dragon shrieked, she had felt hopeless.

But feeling hopeless, she had felt angry too; what better time than when all hope had failed to scream defiance in the face of the danger, to do as that Mistralian general at the end of the Great War — Pyrrha would know her name — had done, rip off her helmet and charge headlong into the Valish ranks?

All had seemed lost in that moment, but when all was lost was maybe the second best time to fight, after fighting when you could win.

"What … what happened to Yang," Ruby went on, "wasn't your fault."

"If I had been there," Ren began.

"Then so what?" Ruby asked. "The dragon was … too strong. Too strong for all of us." She paused. "What I know for certain is that Yang … Yang wouldn't want you to blame yourself. That's the last thing that she'd want."

Funny how easy that is to say to someone else, but not so easy to believe.

Funny … but what might be even funnier is that what I just said to Ren is truer than a lot of what I've been thinking. Yang wouldn't want me to blame myself.

Almost as easy to think as it is to say, not so easy to do.

Judging by the way the look on Ren's barely changed from its prior look of pinched misery, he wasn't finding it so easy to take her words to heart either.

Ruby looked at Nora, still holding her, still sobbing herself, so that it wasn't clear whether Nora wanted to be comforted or to be the comforter. Ruby put her arms around Nora, just in case, leaning forwards just a bit to rest her forehead on top of Nora's.

"It's okay," she said softly. "It's gonna be okay."

Nora blinked rapidly, a wan smile on her face as she looked up at Ruby with tearful eyes. "I feel like I ought to be the one saying that to you right now," she whispered.

"What I said, it goes for you too," Ruby told her. "You can't blame yourself; Yang wouldn't want you too. Ren needed you, and … and there's nothing you could have done for Yang."

Nora let out a ragged breath. She tilted her head a little to one side, gently reaching up with one hand to wipe at Ruby's tear-stained cheek. "You don't have to try and make me feel better," she said. "Not now. You've got a right to feel sad for yourself."

Sad for myself? What about angry for myself?

"I…" Ruby began. "I…" I'm not sure I know what to do with this burden that she's put on me. "I feel like I should honour her with my life," Ruby whispered. "But I don't know how. All I know how to be is myself, and—"

"Then that's all Yang would want," Nora assured her. "For you to be you, and to be happy."

"'Happy'?" Ruby repeated. What does that mean? What does happiness have to do with anything?

What would make me happy?

Will serving the greater good make me happy, or does it not matter if I'm happy or not so long as I'm serving the greater good?

I guess I'll find out when I start actually getting the chance to do it.

"That's right," Nora said, not noticing Ruby's confusion. "So long as you're living the life that you want, to the fullest, with nothing holding you back, I'm sure that's all that Yang would want, and I know that'll make her smile from … from wherever she is now. We can fight as though she's still here beside us, but we can't be her. And Yang—"

"Wouldn't want that anyway," Ruby added.

"No," Nora said, as she started to stand up, and help Ruby up to her feet as well. "No, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't."

Ruby snorted, a little touch of snot emerging out of one nostril that she hastily wiped away. "Pretty sure you're right."

"Yeah," Nora said. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I am." Once more, she pulled Ruby into a hug, resting Ruby's head against her shoulder.

"It's not your fault, either," Nora went on. "You know that, right?"

No. No, Nora, I don't know that at all.

But I was right when I said that Yang wouldn't blame me, and she wouldn't want me to blame myself either.

That doesn't mean that I believe it, but it does mean I know that I should try to.

Ruby raised her head off Nora's shoulder, able to look at her once again. The girl who had wiped away her tears had plenty of her own, and Ruby took the opportunity to wipe away at Nora's cheeks with her own small thumbs.

"What matters," she said, before she needed to pause for a moment. "What matters," she tried again, "is that … Yang gave her life to save me. And that means … that means I have to live a life worth saving. And that means I can't just sit around crying until the grimm get here. Since you've been guarding the rear, I'm guessing you can't, either?"

Nora shook her head. "You see how I get when I get time to stop and … you know."

Ruby let go of Nora, her hands falling down to her sides as she turned to look at Pyrrha.

"So we're retreating to the Red Line?" Ruby asked.

Penny might be the team leader, but Pyrrha seemed to have taken charge, probably due to her authority with the Haven students; with the best will in the world, they weren't going to listen to Penny the way they'd listen to the Vytal Champion, the Princess Without a Crown.

It was rough on Penny, but if Ruby could get over it, then she could too.

"Indeed,” Pyrrha said. “I … don't see how another attempt to face the dragon in the field will end any better than the first.”

Ruby nodded. The Red Line certainly had its advantages, like a great big wall to stand behind and the rest of the Valish Defence Force — hopefully they didn't run off this time — to help them out, but at the same time, Ruby couldn't help but remember Pyrrha saying that they had an advantage over the dragon in the field because they weren't stuck on a wall, and Ruby had actually thought that she was right about that. Now, admittedly, that advantage hadn't actually let them beat the dragon, and it certainly hadn't saved Yang — or Bolin either, for that matter — but at the same time, how was being on a wall, unable to get out of the way, going to help them when the dragon returned, if it returned?

And it probably would return.

But then, if it did return, what would they do about it anyway? They'd had a plan to take it down, and that plan hadn't worked. The Atlesian guns hadn't worked, nothing … there was nothing they could do.

Except maybe use Ruby's silver eyes. They had hurt the dragon, according to Jaune, before it managed to land a hit on her. But if Ruby could use her power without getting hit … if she were upon a wall, say, where other grimm couldn't reach her, and even the dragon would find it more of a struggle, where she could be … Ruby didn't like to think of herself as being protected, but it seemed like she was kind of vulnerable once the magic got started but before it actually killed every grimm in the vicinity.

Maybe the wall wasn't such a bad idea, though Ruby didn't know whether Pyrrha had thought about it that way or not.

Pyrrha nodded. "Unless, as a local, you have any better idea?"

“I think if there was any better defensive ground around here it would have been fortified; if there is I don’t know of it,” Ruby said. “For what it's worth, I think the Red Line's a fine idea. Maybe the best one we have right now. What about pursuit?"

"Light, at present," Pyrrha said. "They probe and scout, but the main body holds back."

"Or they're trying to flank us," Ruby said.

"We haven't been attacked so far," Penny pointed out.

"In any case," Pyrrha went on. "As I said, I'm going to hold here, let everyone else get further ahead, then move back myself. Are you still with me, Nora, Ren?"

"You betcha," Nora growled.

"Of course," Ren said, quietly but firmly.

Ruby thought about asking to join them. It might have been … what was the word, catheter or something, for when you felt better after hitting stuff. Cathartic, it would have been cathartic to have joined them, to have joined in killing every grimm that came in reach.

Cathartic, but at the same time … kind of a pointless risk. If Ruby was the only one who could kill the grimm — and Ruby was starting to think that she might be — then she had to stay alive, or at least try, long enough to do that. If she got herself killed by some beowolf or ursa and the dragon was still out there, then where would that leave everyone else? Where would that leave Vale, and everyone living — or even just sheltering — behind the walls?

If Ruby was going to honour Yang, as she meant to, if she was going to live a life worth saving, then she was going to have to be smart about stuff, to think about how she could do the most good, for the most people; otherwise … otherwise, Yang really would have made a mistake.

And so she didn't ask, and she didn't join them; she left Pyrrha there with Ren and Nora and Arslan, holding their ground against the darkness and whatever it might hold as the rest of the students and soldiers continued to move west.

It was ironic — at least, Ruby thought it was — that she felt as though she was on better terms with Pyrrha since everything started falling apart, but at the same time — or maybe in spite of that — Ruby felt herself drifting away from Penny and Jaune as they retreated.

She drifted away from them, only to find someone else approaching her from her left side: Umber Gorgoneion.

She looked down at Ruby, or at least, Ruby thought that she did; with her sunglasses back on, it was hard to be sure.

"Your sister was strong and valiant," Umber declared. "A better fighter than myself, I must confess. You have my condolences for your loss."

"Thank you," Ruby said quietly. "You're right, she was a better fighter than you, by a long way. But thanks, all the same."

"And I'm also sorry that I wasn't able to fulfil my part in our plan," Umber added.

"You did your part," Ruby told her. It was me that didn't do mine.

"Although," Umber went on, "it seems that my semblance might not have been necessary. And I thought I was hiding an ace in the hole behind these sunglasses."

It took Ruby a second to realise what she meant. "You mean—"

"I won't say you were wrong to mask whatever power you have," Umber told her. "But the crocodile has raised his head out of the water now, I'm afraid. Although … I must say, I thought your semblance was speed."

"It is," Ruby admitted. "My eyes … what I can do with my eyes is something else. Something that I can't use very easily. That's why we didn't plan to use them; it's not that I don't want to, it's just … it doesn't come with an on/off switch."

"Hmm," Umber murmured. "Then how does it work?"

"I, uh … I don't really know," Ruby admitted. Professor Ozpin had never gotten around to explaining it to her. "But it seems to happen when people are in danger."

"Rare chance of that happening," Umber said dryly.

"I know, I know," Ruby replied. "I just … I hope it works when it needs to."

"It sounds as though we'd all better hope that it works when it needs to," Umber replied, "and protect you until it does."

Ruby might have responded to that, but before she could, she heard Penny calling out to her.

"Ruby! Ruby!" she cried, running towards her. "Rainbow Dash just called; she's on her way right now. She says we're needed, desperately."

Author's Note

The art is by Jun. The background depicts the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse in London, which makes it perhaps the most inaccurate background in the story so far, at least in terms of photorealism. It does possess, however, if not emotional realism, then at least a truth to how I imagine large chunks of the story as I'm writing it, as I envisage the characters frequently on stage - although generally at the neighbouring Shakespeare's Globe Theatre rather than at the Sam Wanamaker - either delivering their scenes together or else giving their soliloquies out to the crowd. This was certainly the case while writing Ruby's monologue, which I imagined in such a place, in such a pose.

This piece was, a rarity, not commissioned by me

The title of the chapter comes originally from Horace, I believe, but is better known now for the Wilfred Owen poem from the Great War

Flight to Beacon (New)

Flight to Beacon

Pyrrha drove her spear down into the boarbatusk's neck. The grimm struggled for a second or two, squirming, wriggling, trotters scrabbling against the ground, before the creature fell silent and its head dropped down to the ground, dead.

Smoke began to rise from the body.

Pyrrha looked up. The night's darkness might conceal much, but she could not see any other grimm present, or even approaching; she could not hear them either, and grimm were not usually the sort to mask their coming in silence.

Although that is not to say they cannot, I suppose.

"Another scout," Arslan muttered. "At what point are they going to stop scouting and send in a real attack?"

"Don't tempt fate," Pyrrha replied, darkly.

Arslan snorted. "I'm not complaining, much," she said. "But I'm starting to wonder if this is as much about gathering intelligence as it is about fraying our nerves. They have to know it's just the four of us here by now—"

"But they don't know how close the others are, or where they are exactly," Ren pointed out. "After all, we've already led them into an ambush once; how can they be sure that we aren't doing so again?"

"I suppose," Arslan admitted. "But they could still find a better way of going about it than this, don't you think? This … do they expect this to get them anywhere?"

"Maybe they're hoping to get lucky," Nora suggested.

"Or maybe this is all just to keep us occupied while they come up with a plan," Ren suggested.

"That is a grim thought," Pyrrha murmured. "I hope you're wrong, Ren."

"I hope I'm wrong too," Ren replied, in a very soft voice.

"Pyrrha!" Blake — Blake?! — called out from behind them.

Pyrrha turned, wondering for half a moment if she had misheard the voice, but no, it was Blake, back again so soon, running towards her from the direction of the main body retreating ahead of them.

"Blake?" Pyrrha asked. "What are you … I thought you'd gone back to the Atlesian lines?"

"We did," Blake replied, slowing to a halt just a few steps away from Pyrrha and the others. "And now, we're back. Jaune told me that I'd find you this way." She paused, looking at Ren and Nora. "They also told me … about Yang. I'm sorry. She was … you know better than I what she was. I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Nora murmured. "Really. But you didn't come all the way back here again just to tell us you were sorry, did you?"

"No," Blake admitted. "I'm afraid I didn't. I'm here for Pyrrha," she turned her golden eyes on Pyrrha once again. "You need to come with me. Rainbow's waiting with the Skyray."

"Come with you?" Pyrrha repeated; she had not expected that, but at the same time, perhaps she ought to have, all things considered. Why else would Blake be here, back again, after all, except to whisk them off somewhere? "Where? And why?"

"I'll explain everything once we're together," Blake assured her. "Jaune, Penny, and Ruby are waiting at the airship; come with me and—"

"Wait, please," Pyrrha said, gently but firmly at the same time. She glanced at Nora and Ren; for a little longer, she glanced at Arslan.

Ruby had told her, when the others set off to hunt for the Apex Alpha, that Pyrrha had better stay here, lest her being seen to flee disheartened the Haven students. Pyrrha hadn't liked that advice, hadn't liked seeing Jaune depart without her one bit, but … what Ruby had said at the time was just as true now. If this was another mission for which they thought they might use her help, then … then she might have to decline.

On the other hand, it might be something of greater import. She couldn't know. She couldn't know because Blake hadn't said.

"I understand," she said, "why you and Rainbow might want to wait and only explain everything once, but I have responsibilities here. I'm sorry, but I can't just leave with you upon your word and wait for the explanation. I can't desert everyone, it would…" Pyrrha searched for a way to explain that it would risk disheartening them without sounding unbearably pretentious, or obsessed with her image. "People are counting on me," she said, and hoped that sounded more reasonable.

Blake hesitated for a moment, biting her lip.

"Professor Ozpin's dead," she said bluntly.

Pyrrha gasped. Professor Ozpin … dead? She … Pyrrha could not say that she liked the headmaster, not since … well, not since he had asked her to climb into that infernal machine and mingle her aura and her soul with Amber's; she would not mourn for him as for a friend, but at the same time, he was their headmaster, the leader of the struggle against Salem, a hero to Vale, and for those reasons, his death would come as a heavy blow. And, being older, Professor Ozpin had acquired that quality that the old sometimes possess — the Lord Steward had it also — of seeming permanent, eternal, someone who had been there when you were born and who would still be there, always, maybe even when you were not.

In the case of the headmaster, that was less hyperbolic than might otherwise have been the case. As the headmaster he would quite literally still be there, at the school, once all the students had departed and been replaced by a new generation.

Or so he would have, had he lived.

Pyrrha did not look on Professor Ozpin with great affection, but she could readily admit that he was trying his best, according to his lights and the many heavy burdens laid upon him. He had tried his best, for according to Blake, he was now dead.

They were in the midst of a great battle, perhaps the greatest battle since Ares Claudandus overthrew Lagune at Fort Castle; many valiant souls had fallen already, Yang among them, and yet despite all that, to learn that Professor Ozpin, too, was dead came as a shock.

"WHAT?" Nora exclaimed, displaying her shock more vocally than Pyrrha had. "Professor Ozpin's dead? Are the grimm attacking Beacon again?"

"No," Blake said, without taking her eyes off Pyrrha. "Amber's back."

She did not say any more. She did not need to. What she had said was enough to make it clear. Professor Ozpin was dead, and Amber had returned to Beacon to claim the Relic of Choice that she would then hand over to Salem.

"How do you know this?" Pyrrha asked softly. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," Blake said. "But as for how, that will have to wait. Rainbow can explain it better … and we don't have a lot of time."

No. No, they wouldn't have much time, not if Professor Ozpin was already dead, not if Amber was already at Beacon … if Amber was still at Beacon. Time might have already run out, depending on how long it had taken Rainbow to fly over here.

No. No, time has not run out until the Relic is in Salem's custody; until then, though it may have been removed from the vault, we may be able to take it back.

She would have to go. There could be no question of her remaining behind this time. She would not — could not — leave Jaune and Penny to fight this battle without her, to face a Maiden and her allies.

Together, the five of them had triumphed over Cinder and her half of the Maiden powers, but they were without Sunset now, and for them to also be without Pyrrha too … no. No, the idea was not to be borne.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly to Ren and Nora, turning towards them. "I have to go. Arslan, can you … finesse my absence, with the others? Perhaps?"

"You mean make up an excuse," Arslan said. "Or something else?"

"As you will," Pyrrha replied. "Call it an excuse, if you like—"

"I'd rather not," Arslan told her. "Where are you going? What's so much more important there than the battle going on here?"

"I have no time to explain," Pyrrha declared. "Not now, at least, maybe later; for now … the battle going on here, even if it is won, will all be for nothing unless things at Beacon are … taken care of."

Arslan looked into Pyrrha's eyes. Her own eyes of olive green narrowed for a moment, then returned to their usual size. "Okay, P-money, have it your way," she said. "I'll trust you, for now. I'll tell everyone … I'll come up with something. Use all my charm. Well, if you're going back, and if I need to go back to speak to the others for you, then you two should come back as well, unless you want to be stuck here by yourselves. We can organise a new rearguard in Pyrrha's absence."

"Right," Nora agreed. Ren nodded silently.

"Very well then," Pyrrha said. "Thank you, Arslan. Lead on, Blake."

Blake led on without a word, turning her back on Pyrrha and the others, the ribbon tied to the hilt of her sword bouncing and flowing just a little behind her, even as her wild black hair rose and fell with her movements as she bounded back the way she had come.

The moonlight glinted upon her silver honour band.

Pyrrha followed her, as did Arslan, Ren, and Nora, all of them retreating backwards — fortunately, they were not retreating in the face of any enemy that were close by — following in the footsteps of the main body, until they came to an Atlesian Skyray, landed on the ground, side door open, with Jaune, Penny, and Ruby standing nearby.

Rainbow Dash, too, was outside of the airship, although Ciel remained within, looking down upon those without.

The other huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon and Haven, plus the remaining Mistralian soldiers, had stopped moving; none of them were too close to the airship, but they were all looking at it curiously, perhaps even in some case warily.

As Pyrrha approached the others — Ruby, Jaune, Penny — she wondered if they knew that Professor Ozpin was dead. If they had been told, or if Rainbow and Blake had refused to explain, keeping it to themselves until everyone was together. Had she, by her obstinacy, learned more than they? Was the shock yet to land on them?

How great a shock would it be to them?

Rainbow looked at Blake as she approached. "You found her okay, then?"

"Yes," Blake said to her. "I had to tell Pyrrha a little to get her to come with me."

"You know more than the rest of us, then," Jaune said, in a light tone that, combined with his words, told Pyrrha that he was not yet aware of everything that was happening.

Rainbow glanced past Blake, past Pyrrha, to Ren and Nora and Arslan. "How much?" she asked.

"Not too much," Blake told her. "Less than Sun heard."

"'Sun'?" Pyrrha repeated.

Sun stuck his head around the side of the airship. "Hey!"

"Okay," Rainbow said. "Well, the important thing is that everyone's here, so get onboard, and we'll brief you all once you're in the air."

"This," Ruby said quietly. "This is a … this has something to do with—"

"Our secret," Penny said. "The one that we share, with General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin."

With General Ironwood, at least, and with Professor Goodwitch, I suppose, Pyrrha thought. Not with Professor Ozpin any longer.

"Yes," Rainbow said. "Yes, it is, and it's urgent, which is why we need to go—"

"Yes," Ruby interrupted, taking a step back. "Yes, you do need to go, all of you." She looked at Penny and Jaune and finally at Pyrrha. "But I'll stay here."

"'Stay here'?" Penny repeated. "But why?"

"Because together, the six of you," Ruby began. "The seven of you, with Sun, should be able to take care of it, whatever it is, even if it's … what I think it might be. But I might be the only one who can take out that dragon, if I can just get my eyes to work properly. And not get hit in the meantime. I think I can do more good here than I can with you, and I have to do the very most good, since I'm fighting for two now." She looked at Pyrrha and smiled wryly. "It's my turn to stay behind and let everyone else go."

Her words made sense; just as they had made sense when she was bidding Pyrrha to stay behind, so too did they make sense when she was condemning herself — or volunteering herself, to be gentler — to remain behind. Her silver eyes had driven the dragon off, although they hadn't killed it; no Atlesian weapon or Mistralian hero could say the same; if she could, as she had said, not get interrupted in the middle of her attack, then maybe she could destroy the dragon. Maybe she was right, and her eyes were the only thing that could destroy it. Certainly, they would not be of much use against Amber and her allies.

"You … you're sure about this?" Penny asked, sounding somewhat unsure herself.

"I am," Ruby declared, without a trace of uncertainty in her own voice.

"Then … take care," Penny said. "And we'll be back as soon as we can."

"Right," Ruby said, nodding her head. She glanced across their number one more time. "Take care of each other."

"We will," Pyrrha said softly, before she climbed up into the airship.

Jaune didn't say anything, but he put a hand on Ruby's shoulder, and the two exchanged a wordless look for a second before he, too, climbed aboard.

Penny also got on, and Rainbow Dash leapt up and rushed into the cockpit.

She didn't close the side door on the Skyray; she must have been more concerned with getting the airship up into the air, because the doors remained open as the Skyray ascended up off the ground. As Pyrrha held onto one of the straps that dangled from the ceiling, she could see Ruby watching her from down below, and Arslan too, and many others.

Arslan waved to her as she went. Pyrrha didn't wave back; she was a little worried about what it would look like if she did. She hoped that Arslan wouldn't take offence.

But it seemed to be Ruby who watched them all most closely, her eyes — too small at the increasing distance to really make out the silver in them — fixed upon their airship as it turned away from her, and from all the rest of them.

The doors closed at last, concealing Ruby and Arslan and Ren and Nora and all the rest of the world from their view. There was only the group of them now: Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Blake, Ciel, Sun, and Rainbow Dash, barely visible at the controls of the airship.

A moment passed in silence, everyone holding onto the ceiling straps as the airship carried them quickly across the land.

"So," Jaune said. "Do we get to find out what's going on now?"

"Professor Ozpin is dead," Pyrrha said softly. "And, from what else Blake told me, the Relic is in danger. Isn't that right, Blake?"

"As far as we know," Blake murmured.

"'Dead'?" Jaune repeated. "Ozpin's dead? How … how do you know that?"

"Lyra called me!" Rainbow shouted from the cockpit.

"'Lyra'?" Penny asked.

"You mean … Lyra Heartstrings of Team Bluebell?" Jaune guessed.

"Do you know any other Lyras?" asked Ciel.

"She was seen with Amber," Pyrrha said. "Benni told us that: Amber, Dove, Bon Bon, Lyra, and Tempest Shadow." She frowned. "But why would she call you?"

"Are you asking why she'd call me specifically or why she'd call anyone?" asked Rainbow from the cockpit.

"The latter," Pyrrha replied. "I assume the former is because you were at Combat School together, weren't you?"

"Right," Rainbow said, raising her voice to carry into the main section of the airship. "Lyra's not a bad person. She never was, when I knew her … although I gotta admit that I never would have thought that Bon Bon was a bad person either from when I knew her, and it seems like I turned out to be wrong about that. She was bad enough to work for Salem, anyway. But Lyra…"

"From what Lyra said, it seems she didn't really know what was going on," Blake explained. "She said that she wanted to help Amber escape; she didn't know what that would involve."

"That does sound like a good person," Penny murmured. "If you didn't know all the details, then what Professor Ozpin was doing to Amber must have seemed pretty terrible."

"Some of what Ozpin wanted to do was pretty terrible," Jaune muttered.

"But he didn't deserve to die over it," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Lyra did not have all of the details, but it is clear from what she told us that Amber and her comrades returned to Beacon intending to obtain the Relic of Choice and give it to Salem to bargain for her life and safety."

"Just as Cinder guessed," Pyrrha muttered. If only I had listened.

If only we'd all listened.

"It's not all on you," Jaune said, guessing what she was thinking. "Ozpin, Sunset, why should any of you have listened to Cinder when she was just … talking, with nothing to back it up? Why should you have listened to Cinder over Amber?"

"Because she turned out to be right?" suggested Pyrrha.

Jaune didn't reply to that. Pyrrha thought that might have been because there wasn't much of a response to make.

So Pyrrha asked, "How did Professor Ozpin die, do we know?"

"No," Ciel said. "Only that Tempest Shadow was responsible, while Amber … Amber—"

"Amber didn't stop it," Blake said.

Ciel glanced at her. "Precisely."

"That's when Lyra realised that she'd got herself into," Rainbow called from the cockpit. "She took off, called me…"

"But her call was cut off," Blake said softly. "She managed to get us all the details, but…"

But she is likely dead too, Pyrrha thought. She could not say … she had known Lyra well enough to have any particular feelings for her, but it was a pity that someone who had wanted to do the right thing should perish in such circumstances.

Jaune frowned. "When was all of this?"

"Not too long ago," Blake said. "But a little time. General Ironwood ordered us to get you. Because you know where the Relic is, don't you?"

"It's really weird to hear you talk about all this stuff without understanding what it is you're talking about," Sun remarked.

If that was a ploy on his part to get people to explain to him, it didn't work, but then, Pyrrha doubted that it had been such a ploy; more likely, he was simply expressing his honest opinion.

"Yes," Penny said. "Yes, we know where it is. Amber showed us, and Ruby and Sunset."

"Penny and Pyrrha know where it is," Jaune corrected. "I don't. Amber only showed the girls."

"An intentional nod to the peculiarities of the vault or a reflection of the fact that you were not amongst her favourites?" asked Ciel.

"I don't know," Jaune replied. "Maybe just the fact that I was closer to Dove."

"'Peculiar' … is this something else I don't know about?" asked Sun.

"Briefly, Amber has a great power that was passed down to her through a line of women," Blake said. "It can only pass between women, and that power is what will enable her to remove the Relic from the Vault and deliver it to our enemies."

"Assuming that she hasn't already done that," Jaune said. "I mean, how long would it really take to get the Relic and get out? Won't they be long gone from Beacon when we get there?"

"I don't know," Rainbow called. "How hard is it to get the Relic?"

"It was a little difficult to get to the Vault," Penny said. "But not that difficult, if you have someone who knows the way."

"But how simple or difficult is the final step?" asked Pyrrha. "Amber showed us into the antechamber, but we never saw the Relic itself; that was hidden further on, behind barriers that only Amber could open. Perhaps it isn't so simple as opening a door. Certainly … layers upon layers of distractions and attacks to keep us away from Beacon, it must be a concern that retrieving the Relic will not be a swift and simple task, or why not risk doing it quickly and discreetly?"

"You think they'll still be there?" asked Jaune.

"I hope so," Pyrrha replied. "But if not, then just because the Relic is gone from the Vault does not mean that it is out of our reach. Amber and the others must first get it out of Beacon, and out of Vale for that matter, either by airship or on foot. Whichever they choose, we can still pursue them."

"If they planned on leaving by airship, that would explain a lot," Rainbow said loudly. "They've gone after our air strength so that they can't just be shot down as soon as they try and take off from Beacon."

"That…" Penny began. "How are…?" She trailed off, and then started again. "I'm glad to see that the three of you are okay. When the … we could see the dragon attacking the Atlesian line from over where we were: the cruisers, and the dragon coming down on … I'm glad that you're okay, all of you."

"We have been fortunate," Ciel said softly. "But not all have been so blessed. Team Funky is … all gone, save only Neon, and she is gravely wounded."

"Neon?" Penny asked. "I'm so sorry, Ciel."

Ciel looked at her. She said nothing for a second or two, before she said, in a very calm voice. "Thank you, Penny."

"Is she going to be okay?" Penny asked.

"No," Ciel said. "She will live, if God is good, but okay … she will never again be as she was."

"But that doesn't mean she can't be something else," Penny said. "And that something else can be a kind of okay too, right?"

Ciel pursed her lips together briefly before she said, "We shall see."

"How bad was it?" asked Jaune. "Apart from … well, you saw that we were falling back, and most of the Mistralian troops are gone."

"Including their leader," Pyrrha added.

"Our forces are falling back also, under pressure from the grimm," Ciel explained. "The dragon breached our line in two places, and the grimm poured through. General Ironwood is still alive, though I cannot vouch for battalion commanders." She paused. "The retreat will, or may already, have left the approach to Beacon exposed. Once we arrive, we may be on our own, with no more reinforcements coming."

Alone, Pyrrha thought. Not so alone, with Jaune and Penny, Rainbow and Ciel, Blake and Sun. Seven of us, all told; seven against Amber, Bon Bon, Dove, and Tempest Shadow. There are more of us, and with all due respect to Dove, we have not only numbers but better quality on our side. Tempest is the only one I do not know, but of the ones I know…

Amber is the only one that worries me. She is more skilled than you would think, given her attitude, though of course, it is her magic that is the cause for greatest concern.

Yet, even with her magic, we defeated Cinder last night; we can defeat Amber too.

I wish you were here, Sunset, but I also hope and believe that we can do this without you.

Not alone and far from hopeless.

Trust us, Professor, we won't let you down.

The Skyray jerked to one side so sharply that Pyrrha's feet left the floor and she dangled, legs kicking at the empty air, by the strap on the ceiling. Others weren't so lucky; Jaune lost his grip, and it was only thanks to the fact that the doors were now closed that he didn't fall clean out of the Skyray, only slamming into the side door with a solid thump. Blake lost her grip too, though she managed to make a lighter landing on the door.

Blake, in turn, was thrown as the airship jerked again, landing flat on her face on the floor as the Skyray righted itself. Jaune flopped down beside her.

"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked, reaching out for him with one hand.

"Rainbow Dash, what is going on?!" Ciel demanded.

"The dragon's back, and it's right on our tail!" Rainbow shouted. "Everybody hang on tight; this is going to get rough!"

Rainbow could feel a little touch of sweat on the inside of her gloves as she gripped the controls tightly.

On the sensors, she could see the large form of the dragon — an ominously-sized red blotch on the scope — position directly behind the Skyray.

Behind and getting closer.

Rainbow shifted from side to side while she thought about what to do. Never fly straight and level in the combat area, that was one-oh-one, and while that was kind of intended for enemy airships with guns, it applied to big grimm with sort-of laser weapons as well. Side to side, up and down, never letting the dragon line up for a clear shot on her with its breath attack — it was not something she wanted to get hit with. After seeing what it had done to the Ardent, she doubted that their aura would protect them from it.

But what to do? What to do?

Rainbow's mind worked faster than the airship she was flying. They were on the Beacon Road, or just beyond it; they were closing in on their destination, but that wouldn't do them a whole lot of good if they landed at the school just to all get killed by the dragon's breath. She needed to shake this thing before they got to Beacon, but how? A dive? The dragon had shown that it was pretty willing to go all the way down to the deck, and pretty good at slowing itself as well; she couldn't rely on it to slam head-first into the deck and even if it did, it would probably just get up again anyway.

Going down wasn't an option, but going up — yes, up; if she could get up, above it, if she could get up fast enough and then loop behind it, get into its blindspot, and then when it flew off looking for them, she could take the opportunity to detach and then reach Beacon before it realised what had happened.

It wouldn't necessarily be that easy, but as Rainbow hauled upwards on the control stick, yanking it backwards towards her chest, she couldn't think of a better plan.

It wasn't as though there was anything that could kill this thing, after all.

She could try and request support, see if there were any air units available to back her up, maybe draw the dragon's attention to let her get away. But, if she made that request, then she would be asking Atlas pilots to put their lives at risk for her sake against an enemy they couldn't take out, and that … Rainbow wasn't comfortable doing that. She didn't want to be the reason some poor guy's picture ended up on These Are My Jewels, no matter how important their mission was.

She would get them out of this herself, with her own flying.

And it all started with pulling up.

"Hold on!" Rainbow shouted to everyone in the back, who would get thrown into the back of the airship if they didn't take care; things were probably going to get hairy for them anyway, but there was no helping that: she had to climb.

She had to climb while moving from side to side as well in case the dragon decided to take a shot at her while she was on the rise.

Instead, the dragon's icon on her sensors became narrower, flattened out; she might have thought that it was coming up after her, but its altitude was dropping, not just relative to hers but absolutely.

It was going down.

Rainbow threw the Skyray to the left just in time to avoid the dragon's tail; she could see it flick past out of the cockpit window. The dragon must have dived and lashed out at her with its tail as it dived. Rainbow kept heading to the left, taking her just a little away from Beacon, but more importantly, it was taking her away from the dragon's tail in case it wanted to swish at her again.

She kept on climbing, although the dragon—

The dragon was also climbing, shooting upwards like a rocket to catch up with the Skyray.

Okay then, variation.

Hope you're all still hanging on back there. Rainbow hadn't heard anyone slam into the sides since she started flying like this, at least. She threw the control stick forwards and to the right, turning the Skyray until she was facing downwards, nose pointed straight at the dragon as it erupted through the sky towards her.

Rainbow shot down to meet it, the descending thunderbolt towards the rising ash cloud.

She was glad that, in here, she couldn't hear the grimm out there.

But she could see when it opened its mouth. Rainbow jerked to the right to avoid a blast from the dragon's breath, the yellow column rising rapidly upwards into the sky, narrowly missing the Skyray, not even scraping the wing, or they might have been in trouble.

Rainbow didn't fire; this airship still had a couple of rockets, and it still had rounds in the cannons, but Rainbow didn't use them; what would have been the point, other than annoying the dragon? And Rainbow didn't want to do that.

Now that it had fired its breath weapon, she shifted back the way that she'd come, back closer to its mouth. She had to get in close, or this wasn't going to work. It might not work anyway, but it was the best plan that she could come up with, so…

The dragon didn't fire its breath at her again; Rainbow thought that maybe it couldn't fire continuously, it could only go so long and then it needed to take a break to recharge. Or they were getting close enough where it would rather bite them with its fangs than fire again.

Or perhaps, although Rainbow was sticking close, she still wasn't flying completely straight and level, and the dragon couldn't aim at her.

But the two closed in on one another. Rainbow went down, and the dragon went up.

Rainbow was glad that there was no one else in the cockpit with her, or they might have thought she was nuts and tried to take the controls off her, but she knew what she was doing.

She hoped that it would work out.

Although she moved a little, to throw off the dragon's aim, Rainbow was still mostly going down and forwards, pretty straight towards the dragon.

If she kept on going like this, then she was going to end up in its gullet. Something the dragon seemed pretty well aware of; its mouth was open, ready to swallow her up.

Rainbow shifted a little to the right.

She throttled back on the speed just a bit, keeping her hand on that particular lever ready, waiting.

The dragon didn't slow down one bit. It kept on coming, mouth open, teeth at the ready.

It lunged, neck stretching, mouth opening even wider.

Rainbow dodged, throttling the speed up to its maximum as she threw the airship just around the dragon's mouth, swaying around the closing jaws then throwing the airship back as quickly as she could, as quickly as the airship could move, towards the dragon's body.

Everything depended on speed right now. If Rainbow could get behind this thing before it saw what she was up to, then she would be golden; if not, it would all be pointless.

Rainbow raced down to the dragon's flank; out of the window, she could see the black bulk and see the occasional bone spur — not very many of them — coming out of its flesh. She could see the gash that the Ardent had made with its ram, a gash that didn't seem to be slowing the dragon down or hindering it in any way, just a cut in the blackness that revealed more oily blackness underneath.

Rainbow flew down the dragon's side, past its shoulders where its body widened out — she hugged its side as close as she could — down its body, past its thighs, and then Rainbow turned, throwing the left engine into reverse to spin the Skyray around on a pinhead so that she was flying directly behind the dragon's body, its tail stretching out above her and behind. Rainbow was tucked in behind its hind legs — its only legs — between them. The dragon couldn't see her, and even if it turned its head to look behind it, Rainbow guessed — she hoped, she really hoped — that it still wouldn't be able to see her because its own body was too big for it to see around, and even the dragon's neck wasn't so long that it could stretch back and see past its own thighs.

They were safe here. The fact that the dragon wasn't turning around to get at her — and that it hadn't yet used its tail to grab their airship and crush it — told her that they were safe here; it didn't know where they were, and all they had to do was—

The dragon moved, towards the right; Rainbow kept pace with it, keeping the fork of the dragon's legs directly in front of her, staying in its blindspot and letting the size of its own body hide her from view.

Right now, the dragon would be wondering where they had gone. It moved to the left as it had moved to the right. It dropped down, which was the moment of greatest danger as it might be in a position to look up and see them, but it didn't. It kept its face down as it dived, looking to see if its prey had gone to ground. Rainbow kept in the blindspot and made sure that she stayed that way when the dragon rose up into the sky once more.

It was taking a little bit of time, this, but that was because the dragon was searching the same area for them. It was circling now, looking in all directions for the elusive airship except for the one direction that it couldn't see.

Rainbow kept her position; though it was a little bit of a struggle, though she could really feel herself sweating inside her gloves right now, she maintained her position out of sight.

The dragon was circling just beyond Beacon. The Beacon Road was beneath them, although Rainbow wasn't in much of a position to look at what was going on below. She was more concerned with staying out of sight of the dragon, waiting for it to guess that they'd gone, that it had missed them, then it would have to head somewhere else, and then it would be a matter of racing Beacon and hope that it didn't spot them out of the corner of its eye.

The dragon began to move — more slowly now — in the direction of Beacon.

Come on, come on, look somewhere else already.

Now that the airship was flying level, everyone had their feet on the ground once more, which meant that Blake was free to come into the cockpit, one hand on Rainbow's chair, leaning forwards a little.

"What are we doing?" she asked.

"Hiding," Rainbow said. "Waiting for this guy to get bored."

"Do we have time for this?" asked Blake.

"I don't know, do we have time to get eaten?" asked Rainbow snappishly.

"Sorry," Blake murmured.

There was a moment of silence, the two of them looking at the slowly moving dragon, its body dripping black grimm ooze down onto the ground.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Blake asked. "Do you think that's how grimm are made?"

Rainbow glanced at her. "All grimm are the sweat of really big grimm like this?"

"It's possible," Blake said quietly. "We still don't know where they come from."

"That's right," Rainbow nodded. "But there'd need to be an awful lot of grimm like this dripping an awful lot to—"

She stopped, as something hit the top of the airship with a thunk like a … it sounded almost like rain.

Like a very large raindrop dripping down.

Rainbow tilted the airship to the right, one wing pointed downwards.

Slide off, slide off, slide off.

She heard something, felt something, something scrabbling on the wing, something … were those claws digging into the wing? Had something come out of the pool already?

Rainbow tilted the airship further, as much as she dared; she wasn't afraid of a young grimm, but she was worried about what a young grimm would reveal to the dragon.

There was another scraping sound, and then a moment of silence.

Then an explosion sounded from the right. Alarm klaxons sounded in the cockpit as shards of debris buried themselves in the door. Warnings told Rainbow Dash that the right engine was out. The fact that the airship was spinning out told her the same thing.

Rainbow fought with the controls, throwing the remaining engine into reverse to create a counterforce to the spin; if she could get the airship to stop moving, get the control stick to stop jerking in her hands, stop it from trying to—

Rainbow barely just about saw the dragon's tail coming, whipping towards her. Rainbow threw herself on the stick, hurling her body against it to move it downwards. The airship dropped, partly, unevenly; the dragon's tail didn't hit the fuselage and obliterate the Skyray completely. It just sheared the other wing off.

And sent the airship plummeting in a renewed spin towards the ground.

"Strap yourself in, Blake!" Rainbow shouted as she fought the controls, for all the good that it would do. She couldn’t keep them up now, not with no working engines; this wasn't a Skybolt. The only thing that she could hope to do was crash land in the right way. "Everyone, buckle up if you can."

Blake managed to throw herself into the copilot's chair, fumbling with the restraints.

Rainbow's breathing was heavy as she fought the physics that had the airship in their grip, sending it down and down. She pulled at the shaft, trying to get the nose up, trying to get the undercarriage pointed at the ground.

"Hey, Blake," she said through gritted teeth. "Have you ever heard the one about the guy who fell off the edge of Atlas?"

"What?" Blake demanded.

"As he was falling he told himself 'so far, so good; so far, so good.’"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we haven't been eaten or vapourised yet," Rainbow pointed out. "So … so far, so good."

The ground rushed to meet them. Rainbow closed her eyes at the moment of impact, feeling rather than seeing. She felt the harness wrenching at her chest as she was pushed forward and restrained at the same time, she felt her neck jolted, she felt something — glass, probably — nip at her aura as it showered her.

She heard groans of pain from behind her.

She heard the klaxons sound even louder.

Rainbow opened her eyes to see red lights flashing in the cockpit. She turned her head sideways — at least she still could — to see Blake, pressed against the limits of her restraints, breathing heavily in and out.

They had landed at an angle, about forty-five degrees on their side; the one side of the airship — Blake's side — was partly buried, and a little dirt had gotten in through the shattered windshield.

They still hadn't been devoured by the dragon or fallen victim to its breath. Looking up, out of the shattered cockpit, Rainbow couldn't see the dragon, although she could hear grimm outside. How far away outside, she couldn't say, but she could hear them, and from the amount of growling and howling they were doing, they were in a pretty good mood.

Rainbow grunted as she pushed herself back in her chair to unfasten herself more easily. "Sound off," she said. "Everyone who's alive."

Sun groaned. "I'm still here."

"Me too," murmured Jaune.

"My aura is still intact," said Pyrrha.

"And mine too," added Ciel.

"I'm still combat ready," said Penny.

"Is anyone's aura broken?" asked Rainbow.

Nobody answered.

Rainbow unfastened herself and rose unsteadily out of her chair. "Blake?" she said, holding out one hand to her. With the other hand, she opened the door on the side of the airship facing upward. It grunted a bit, and groaned, but it eventually sounded like it was moving. When Rainbow bent her head around out of the cockpit, she could see it was moving, exposing the starry sky above them.

Blake managed to get her restraints off and took Rainbow's hand, accepting a little help out of the chair and then, leaning a little, out of the cockpit.

Everyone else was picking themselves up or had already done so. Pyrrha was out of the airship already, leaning back inside, reaching out to help Jaune up. Penny formed a cradle with her hands for Ciel to put her foot into.

Rainbow leapt up, grabbing the lip of the door — what would have been the bottom if they'd landed properly — and pulling herself up and out — not only the ground, but first balancing on the lip of the doorway, then sidling along until she was standing on the fuselage just beyond the open doorway, near the shattered cockpit.

It wasn't much of a vantage point, but it was a little bit of one.

Rainbow pulled her goggles down over her eyes, activating the night vision.

She could see grimm. A lot of grimm, coming this way. They weren't right on top of the huntsmen yet, but they were definitely coming towards them, with no sign of any troops or other huntsmen nearby to help them out.

It looked like an arm of the horde — or an arm of one of the hordes — detached to block the Beacon Road and stop anyone from getting up to school, including those who had gotten there before them.

Rainbow turned around. Beacon was behind them; she could see the CCT Tower rising up above, high up into the sky.

The dragon flew overhead, ignoring Rainbow and the other huntsmen and huntresses; it let out a roar as it went past, a big, long roar that echoed through the night sky. It was headed for Beacon too; that would be a problem, to say the least.

Less of an immediate problem though than all the other grimm, which were closer to the students than the students were to Beacon. Even if they could all outrun the grimm — and while Rainbow could, she was a lot less sure about Ciel or Penny, and she was absolutely certainly that Jaune couldn't, maybe not even Sun — they wouldn't like to try and get to Amber with a whole load of grimm on their tails.

Not to mention whether everyone was in a state to immediately start running. They were only just getting out of the airship.

Trying to get this done with the grimm on their heels would be pretty bad.

Blake scrambled out of the airship and came to stand beside her. Her nightvision cut through the dark to show her what Rainbow could see.

"That doesn't look good," she observed.

"No," Rainbow agreed. "No, it doesn't."

She sighed. Put the kettle on, Kogetsu, I might be calling 'round.

Rainbow edged her way across the top of the airship doorway, bending down to just about reach the rotary cannon mounted on the ceiling. She gave it a sharp tug, and then another; the mounting squeaked in protest before Rainbow wrenched it off with a snap and a groan of the metal, lifting the big gun up in her hands as she stood on the side of the airship.

"As you can hear," Rainbow said, "there are a lot of grimm coming this way. So I want everyone else to head up to Beacon right now, and I'll hold them off here."

"Why don't we just fight the grimm together?" Penny said. "And then once we've killed them all—"

"Even if we had time for that, Penny, there are too many of them," Rainbow said. "We'd never get through them all."

"But you can all by yourself?" Penny demanded. "That—"

"Believe me, Penny, I'm not singing and dancing for joy over this," Rainbow cut her off. "But it's … it's an hour to play and the last man in. Now get a move on, while you can."

Penny opened her mouth.

"Come, Penny," Ciel said. "As Rainbow said, time is of the essence." She looked at Rainbow. "The Lady protect you."

"Keep her protection for yourself; you might still need it," Rainbow muttered.

Ciel and Penny jumped down. Pyrrha said something, but unfortunately, she said it in Mistralian, which meant that it was all Mistralian to Rainbow Dash. She jumped down with Jaune — Rainbow didn't look back to make sure that they were all going; she just trusted that they were heading up to Beacon as fast as they could — and then Sun.

Rainbow was left up on the fuselage with Blake.

Rainbow tried to come up with a few words in what might not even be seconds before Blake left. She couldn't think of anything cool, but then, cool words were probably a little overrated; they might mean more if they were sincere.

"Hey, Blake," Rainbow said. "Tell Twilight—"

"Tell her yourself; I'm staying right here," Blake declared, switching Gambol Shroud into pistol configuration.

Rainbow blinked, eyes boggling behind her goggles. "Huh?"

"I'm staying here," Blake said. "With you. Together, we can double the time that we can hold off the grimm." She paused. "Besides, if I just left you here, and … how would I face any of them tomorrow?"

Rainbow stared at her. "You don't have to do this," she whispered.

"I know," Blake said softly, but serenely. "But I don't want to leave you."

Rainbow stared at her. She stared at Blake and smiled, in spite of all the grimm charging towards them.

"You're the best," she said.

Blake didn't reply, but one corner of her lip turned upwards.

“Blake?” Sun called out. “Did I just hear you say you were staying?”

Blake paused for half a moment before she said, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Well, don’t let me start walking before you tell me!” Sun cried. “I’m staying too; just let me get up there.”

Blake opened her mouth, as though she wanted to say something, but then closed her mouth again and said, “Okay, but hurry up; the grimm won’t wait for you.” She glanced at Rainbow Dash. “You don’t mind if Sun joins us, do you?”

“What kind of a question to ask is that?” asked Rainbow. “But no, I don’t mind.”

Rainbow faced the grimm, who were getting closer and closer by the second, eating up the yards as they rushed in a black mass.

She gripped the rotary cannon as best she could, cradling it in one arm, her other hand upon the trigger. She aimed low, knowing that it would kick the moment she started to fire.

Rainbow glanced at Blake. Blake nodded.

Rainbow opened fire.

Author's Note

I think if you've read the original you probably have a good idea where this is going, but even if you haven't you might be able to tell.

Having the airship get brought down in such a way that it didn't kill them all was a little bit of a challenge, hence having them brought down indirectly rather than directly by the dragon.

Blackout (New)

Blackout

"Sir," Cunningham said, "the dragon is headed towards Beacon."

Ironwood resisted the urge to curse under his breath, for fear that someone — Fitzjames, perhaps, closest to him — would overhear. That would never do, to have his mood be … the officers on the bridge could probably guess his mood, but that didn't mean he had to confirm it for them.

But he felt like cursing nonetheless. Beacon? Of all the places that it could have gone, it was heading towards Beacon.

Of course it was headed to Beacon. The CCT was there, and if this was all nothing more than an elaborate heist, with everything serving to get the Relic of Choice for Salem, then she would want her strongest asset present to make the task of stopping Amber more complicated.

Besides, Beacon was Ozpin's school; more than Atlas, Haven, or Shade, it was Beacon that he had moulded to his will and in his image. That alone might be the reason for Salem to want it gone.

But that was the least of Ironwood's worries right now. The appearance of the dragon anywhere on the battlefield would have been a bad thing, given the supremacy it had established over the Atlesian forces, but at Beacon? The CCT, Amity Colosseum, the operation to stop the Relic being taken … there were so many targets, and so little he could do about any of them.

His forces had already yielded the Beacon Road, falling back in the face of a grimm onslaught renewed in confidence and vigour now that it had broken through the outer defences. The fact that his forces had been able to fall back so quickly was commendable, the fact that they had been able to do so with the enemy hard on their heels without the retreat turning into a rout even moreso, but his admiration for what the troops had accomplished didn’t change the facts on the ground: first, that they were retreating; second, that grimm had already slipped through the cracks before the three battalions had managed to form a line, forcing the troops to face both ways as they fell back; third, that they had given up the Beacon Road; that whole area was under grimm control, and there was nothing that they could do to defend the school.

Not that they would have been able to do anything to stop the dragon even if they hadn't already moved past the road; that had already been demonstrated with a brutal clarity.

Ironwood frowned. That wasn't helping.

Just because things had gone badly since the dragon showed up didn’t give him a licence to give up.

Just because he wasn’t sure what to do about the dragon didn’t give him a licence to let everyone who was still looking to him know that he wasn’t sure what to do.

Six cruisers had opposed the dragon over the Green Line. Six cruisers; he hadn’t been too disheartened when the Wonderbolts had had to fall back, confident in the firepower of his cruisers, but then they, too, had failed. Six cruisers out of his total of twelve — his total of nine now, after the loss of Courageous, Gallant, and Ardent — and they had failed to stop that grimm, even to slow it down.

He didn’t have any bigger guns.

He had ordered the medical frigates back over Vale, putting some more distance between them and the dragon; the carriers had also fallen back, although a shorter distance; select Skybolt squadrons were rearming with heavy titan-buster missiles, which were a card he still had yet to play. To play it over Beacon would mean exposing his airships over ground that had been, if not actively abandoned, then at least put beyond reach of support, in skies that were now grimm-controlled.

That would be hard on the pilots. Harder than asking them to go up against the dragon would be, anyway.

Not to mention it might be too late; if the dragon was heading for Beacon, it would get there before any Atlesian units could intercept.

“What’s the position of the Amity Colosseum?” he demanded.

“It’s not moving, sir,” Cunningham replied.

Come on, Twilight.

He considered ordering the Resolution to push the arena away, but even an intact cruiser might have found that a struggle, let alone one that had already taken damage.

Not that a damaged cruiser would be able to defend the arena.

“Des Voeux, hail the Resolution,” Ironwood ordered.

“Aye aye, sir.”

It took less than a second for the voice of Major Cochrane to issue into the CIC. “Resolution here, sir. I take it you're calling about that bastard I can see on the monitor.”

“You can’t fight it, Major, not with the Resolution in that condition,” Ironwood said.

“We can give it a go, sir,” Cochrane replied, sounding affronted by his dismissal of the idea.

“No, Major, you will not,” Ironwood insisted. He tightened his jaw for a moment. “If necessary, I want you to try and use your ship to push the Amity Colosseum away from Beacon and towards Vale.”

“Push it?”

“I have someone working on getting the arena’s engines online, but if that fails, then the Resolution is the only plan B I have.”

There was a moment of silence before Cochrane replied. “Understood, sir. When will it be necessary?”

“If, in your opinion, the dragon is moving to assault Amity,” Ironwood informed her.

“In my opinion, understood, sir,” Cochrane replied. “The old lady will give it her best.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Ironwood said.

“Sir?” Cuningham said. “The dragon isn’t moving towards the arena; it’s on a direct course for the CCT tower.”

“Cochrane, you have your orders. Ironwood out,” Ironwood said, because he needed to focus on the other target at Beacon. Of course they were targeting the tower. Even if the dragon’s main aim was to make it hard to stop the Relic from being taken from Beacon, the CCT was too juicy a prize to pass up.

The CCT network was quantum entangled between the four main towers: if one tower went down, the whole network went down. If the dragon took out the tower — when the dragon took out the tower; it wasn’t as though it was going to be stopped before it could — then it wouldn’t just be dampening communications across Vale, but across the whole of Remnant.

If — when — the tower fell, then the only possible communications would be point to point between individual devices, or what signals could be bounced off individual relay towers if someone was in range and their device could make contact.

That would have huge implications for Remnant, but the implications that were utmost in Ironwood’s mind right now were those for the control of his military; he would be unable to contact any of his units spread out across distant stations, and they would be unable to contact him.

And his forces would be completely cut off from Atlas.

He needed to make preparations while he still could.

“Des Voeux,” he said. “Transmit all logs to HQ immediately and send the following signal to the Council, to General Roebuck, General Reeve, and to all units: communications are about to go down, blackout protocols are in full and immediate effect, acknowledge receipt of order. Send it now.”

“Sending now, sir,” des Voeux replied, his voice shaking a little, but only a little.

In the circumstances, Ironwood considered that quite commendable.

They were all doing very well at keeping calm, if nothing else.

Ironwood could see the dragon on the sensor images displayed in front of him, a large red shape moving inexorably towards the defenceless tower.

If Oz were still alive, Ironwood might have asked him why he’d thought it was a good idea to build the CCT tower outside of Vale’s defences.

He might also have asked how he’d persuaded everyone else to go along with it.

“Are we going to try and intercept it, sir?” Fitzjames asked.

“No,” Ironwood said, watching the dragon draw nearer and nearer. “No, we’re going to have to let this play out.”

The dragon drew nearer to the tower, the black mass closing inexorably with the green point upon the map.

“Log transmissions almost complete, sir,” des Voeux informed him. “We’ve received acknowledgement of blackout protocols from Home Fleet command, Argus base, Cold Harbour—”

“Anything from the Council?”

“No, sir,” des Voeux answered.

Unlike my units, there may not be anyone answering the scrolls at the Council at this hour, Ironwood thought.

Roebuck may have to inform them when they wake up.

“Anyone else?” Ironwood asked.

“No, sir. Still waiting on a response from Mantle, as well as acknowledgements from outlying bases in Mistral and Vacuo.”

No time, Ironwood thought, for the dark red symbol of the dragon was almost upon the tower.

“Log transmissions complete,” des Vœux announced. “Mantle is acknowledging recei—”

All the screens went dark.

The lights of the Emerald Tower gleamed in the darkness, as true a beacon as any that could justify the name. The many lights of emerald green that burned did not burn brightly, but they possessed an intensity nonetheless; if one were to stand on the grounds of Beacon and look up at the tower that rose so high into the sky, they would see the lights burning and feel that no darkness could snuff them out.

As the dragon bore down upon the tower, those same lights seemed to cause it pain; the dragon turned its head away and moaned softly.

Then it turned its head back towards the tower, the high tower, the tower with the green lights burning within it, and opened its mouth.

A great beam of burning, blazing energy streamed out of the dragon’s maw and struck the tower halfway up its great height.

And the Emerald Tower, seat of the headmaster, CCT tower for Vale, tower of the burning lights that never dimmed, exploded. Instead of the green lights, there was a pillar of flame as fragments of stone and steel flew out across the grounds of the school.

The dragon landed upon the ruined stump of the tower, cut down to size, like a bird returning to its nest.

The grimm stretched its long neck up towards the sky and roared in triumph.

Aboard the Valiant, all the screens in front of Ironwood, all the sensor displays and the readouts, went black.

Some of them returned a moment later, amidst a soft hum and whirring of computers: the battlefield images, the maps of Vale that showed the dragon holding stationary above — or on top of — what had been the CCT, the videos of the unfolding battle captured by drones. What did not return, and what wouldn't return for some time in the best case, was everything beyond the immediate location. A few seconds ago, Ironwood had been at the head of the mightiest force in Remnant, able to reach out from the bridge of his ship to direct movements in any one of the four kingdoms, to deploy ships and men, to unleash force if required.

Now, all of that had been stripped away from him. Now, his reach, his gaze, his voice extended no further than this battlefield and the three squadrons that he had with him here in Vale.

"Comm check," Ironwood ordered. "Make sure all units and ships can still make contact."

"Aye aye, sir," replied des Voeux.

As much to the point, if Ironwood was cut off, then so — with the exception of the Home Fleet stationed around Atlas itself — was every other ship and unit deployed across Remnant. Mantle, Argus, ships on patrol, bases across Anima and Vacuo, they had been plunged into darkness, severed from their link to home.

That was why protocols existed for just such an eventuality. The exact orders varied from base to base, but all patrolling vessels should begin immediately to make their way home and report to Home Fleet for further orders; the forces at Cold Harbour, Argus in Mistral, and Adin Bay in Vacuo — the respective primary Atlesian bases in the other three kingdoms — were to hold their positions and attempt to establish contact with Atlas via other means; other units were to reach out to local civic authorities and had leave to remain if requested, in which case, they too should attempt to reestablish communications with Atlas; otherwise, they should make their way home as best they could; forces at Mantle, Crystal City, and other locations across Solitas were to maintain readiness and await further orders; the Home Fleet in Atlas itself…

One weakness of Atlesian protocols — aside from the fact that they had never really been tested outside of theoretical exercises — was that they assumed the commanding general would be at or nearby Atlas when communications went down, and that they would be able to take personal command of the main force based around Atlas. As it was, command of the Home Fleet would fall to Brigadier General Roebuck, under the supervision of the Council. And Ironwood could not help but worry that this situation would expose a number of older officers holding high rank who clung like barnacles to the Atlesian military. Some of them should have been retired before now, but they were often well-connected, with eminent friends who would speak up for them, and some of them even had distinguished records from their younger days. If push had come to shove, Ironwood could have probably sacked officers like Cordovin or Roebuck, but it would have raised a stink and required an expenditure of his political capital, and so he had taken to assigning them to prestigious but undemanding positions that offered no grounds for complaint — who could object to being left to mind the shop in Atlas, or to being appointed commander of the Argus base? — while not offering much opportunity to do any harm.

And, of course, connected to him via long apron-strings, enabling him to reach out and tug on them if they started to stray.

Now, the apron strings had been cut, and command at Argus might involve more than glad-handing with civic dignitaries and hosting the Town and Garrison Ball; command at Atlas might involve more than simply doing the paperwork until Ironwood's return.

He might need to have some fights when he got home.

But getting home, and bringing his surviving troops with him when he did, required winning a fight right here and now in Vale.

Everything else, all his other forces spread out across Remnant, would have to wait; he would have to trust his troops to look after themselves. Even the officers he would rather didn't have to.

The picture on their television went dead, the images from the news replaced by roaring static.

Leaf got up off the sofa where it seemed that she'd been glued for the entire night, watching the news from Vale as ANN continued to live broadcast the unfolding events in the city of her birth. Everything had been cancelled, the schedules cleared for non-stop coverage by Atlesian reporters in the city itself; the sports correspondents in the city for the Vytal Tournament had become war correspondents reporting on grimm attacks and the sounds of battle raging on the other side of the walls of Vale. They had sometimes, annoyingly, cut to talking heads back in some studio in Atlas, speculating pointlessly on what might be going on and what it might all mean. 'Well, Wolfe, if we're seeing that, then this might happen next,' okay, but you don't know that's actually happening, do you, you don't know anything.

All that Leaf and Veil knew were what they could see on the TV — and what Leaf's mum was telling her. Leaf had called her; she was sat on the threadbare sofa with the TV on in front of her and her scroll in her hand, the line open to her mom.

They hadn't talked about anything personal, only about what was happening back in Vale: what the Valish news was saying, what Mum could see and hear. It sounded really weird what was happening there; Leaf couldn't make sense of it, the talking heads on the Atlas TV couldn't make sense of it, and it sounded as though Mum was having a hard time understanding it herself. Like, the Valish had fired on an Atlesian ship, and everyone started talking about a possible war for a hot second, especially when Mom said that General Blackthorn had come out and announced martial law was being declared — martial law? Seriously? — only then,Councillor Emerald had gone on TV, with Sunset, of all people, to say that General Blackthorn was just ill, or something, and he hadn't meant to start a war, and it was all just so bizarre.

Except it seemed, from what the TV was showing, from what Mum said, that as much as it sounded really weird and made Leaf's head spin to try and think about, it had meant that the fighting in Vale had stopped, which was good, especially since Mum was trying to get into Vale right now.

The no-personal stuff … that had mainly meant not talking about Leaf; it was impossible not to talk about how Mum was doing with a battle raging around her, what she was doing. What she was doing, along with Daniel and Angie, was queuing up to get into Vale. Councillor Emerald had ordered everyone who lived on the wrong side of the Red Line — which unfortunately included her parents, because you could get a bigger place for your money on the unprotected side of the wall — to get behind the walls where it was safer. So far, the last Leaf had heard, they hadn't actually made it yet; they were still waiting to get through.

Mum hadn't been too worried, though; the sounds of fighting had been so far away. Leaf hadn't been too worried either; sure, it was a big shock all of this happening to Vale, where her family lived, but it was gonna be fine. The Atlesians were going to hold the line and keep the grimm at bay. They'd already defended the Amity Colosseum and Beacon, so they were going to stop the grimm outside of the Vale in the same way, for sure. Rainbow Dash and Blake would protect her family, the same way that they'd protected her.

Only then, suddenly, this really huge grimm, so huge that you could see it from miles away, had shown up, and it … things hadn't seemed quite so rosy after that.

And now, the TV had gone dead. There was only static on the screen in front of them.

Her scroll was still working, but it had disconnected her call to Mum.

"What?" Leaf muttered. "See if you can get that to work; I'm gonna call her back."

Veil, still sat down on the sofa, leaned forwards as she grabbed the remote and turned the TV off and on.

It was still static only on the screen.

Veil began to cycle through the channels as Leaf called her Mum back — or tried to. Her scroll told her there was no signal — matching the no signal icon on the top right of the screen that she was only just noticing.

"Have you got a signal on your scroll?" Leaf asked.

"Hang on a second," Veil murmured, continuing to press the button on the remote to send it cycling through the channels.

There was only static; there was nothing on any of the channels that Veil flicked through to.

"Take over," Veil said, tossing the remote to Leaf — who fumbled it, letting the remote control bounce off her and land on the floor with a thud — as she looked around for her scroll.

Leaf picked up the remote, and instead of cycling through the channels, she started picking ones at random.

Still nothing; if it wasn't static, it was a blank screen.

She went to the TV's homepage, only to be greeted with the message Your device is not connected.

Veil had her scroll out now, looking down at it in her hands. "I've got no signal either." She glanced at the television. "No signal on the TV, nothing on either of our scrolls—"

There was a knock on the door, not too heavy, not angry-sounding, but insistent.

"I'll get it," Veil said, getting up off the sofa.

She walked in front of Leaf, and for a second, she blocked her view of the useless television, even as Leaf was left with nothing to do but to stare at it, her eyes sometimes flickering to the equally useless scroll in her hand.

She couldn't call Mum, she couldn't watch the news, she had no way of knowing how things were going in Vale right now. The grimm could have suddenly destroyed the whole city and killed everyone, and she wouldn't know.

Not that … not that that was going to … that wasn't going to happen, right?

Rainbow and Blake wouldn't let that happen.

Except … except that grimm looked really big, and now…

Veil opened the door. On the other side of the door stood one of their neighbours, Frangipane, Fran for short. She was young, like them — these apartments advertised themselves as being for 'young professionals' — with golden brown hair worn in a bob and eyes to match, and a very soft, round face. She wore a pastel pink dressing gown that she clutched tightly around herself with one hand.

"Sorry to bother you," she said softly, leaning forwards a little. "But have you two lost your signals for your scrolls and television?"

"Yeah," Veil replied. "Both our scrolls, and the TV. You too?"

"Yes," Fran said. "I was worried it was just me, but it seems not; that's good … or not, I suppose." She hesitated, looking around Veil towards Leaf. "Do you think … sometimes, when one of the towers requires maintenance, the whole thing shuts off for an hour or two in the middle of the night. Do you think…?" She stopped. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't disturb you any longer. But … if you need to … I'll let you go."

"Thanks," Veil said. "We'll let you know if anything changes."

"And so will I," Fran said. "Goodnight."

"Night," Veil murmured, not adding the 'good' part, because it hadn't been a great night so far, and it was only getting worse.

She shut the door; it clicked closed.

Leaf stared down at the dead scroll in her hand. She frowned and started to call Veil, her thumb swiping through the screens to get to Veil's scroll number on her device.

Veil's scroll began to ring. Veil started, looking down at it in surprise before pressing the red button to decline the call.

"That still works," Leaf observed. "We can still reach each other. Which means…" She paused. "Fran thinks the Vale tower might be down, doesn't she?"

Veil bit her lip.

"You can say it," Leaf told her.

Veil still didn't look at Leaf. "It would make sense. A tower going down would bring down the network. No TV, no calls except to other scrolls that you can directly connect to."

"No news from Vale," Leaf muttered. No word from Mum, no developments about what was going on there. The only news being the fact that she couldn't get any more news because the tower was down, which was … pretty terrible news, really.

She had no way of getting hold of her. No way of reaching her mother, finding out if she was okay, if Daniel was fine, if Angie was fine. No way of reaching Dad, either.

No way of knowing what was happening to them, or to Blake or Rainbow Dash or Sunset or Ruby or the rest of Vale. They could all die, and she wouldn't know.

Veil took a step towards her. "I'm sure that it'll be fine," she began.

"But you don't know that, do you?" Leaf snapped. "Nobody knows because we don't know anything!" She stopped, a scowl on her face as she looked away. "Sorry, I—"

"It's fine," Veil assured her. "I wasn't helping."

Standing in this apartment wasn't helping either. Looking at the television with its disconnected message wasn't helping; it just made Leaf want to kick it until it worked. Looking at her scroll wasn't helping; it just made her aware of how far away and unreachable her family was.

Looking down also made it clear to her that her hands were shaking; it made it harder to ignore the trembling in her limbs.

It wasn't all nerves — part of it was that she'd gone too long without a cigarette — but the nerves weren't helping either.

"I'll be outside," she muttered, grabbing her coat off the arm of the sofa and thrusting her scroll into one of its big pockets.

Veil got out of her way as Leaf walked towards the door, pulling her coat on as she went; she opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, with its soft blue lights running along the ceiling.

Leaf's hands kept on shaking as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the other pocket of her coat, tremblingly pulling one out of the packet and sticking it in her mouth. The nicotine would calm her down, make it … make it easier. Take the edge off.

Leaf closed her teeth around the cigarette as she fumbled for her lighter. Where was it, where was it? Ah, yeah, here it was. She pulled out the cheap plastic lighter and tried to light it, clicking the handle over and over again. She got sparks, but no flame; it sparked and sparked, but there wasn't any fire. Leaf's thumb pushed down and down repeatedly, but it still wouldn't work. Why wouldn't it work?

Work, you stupid—

"Here," Veil said, stepping out into the corridor with a box of matches, striking one against the side of the box and holding the burning match up.

"Thanks," Leaf muttered, leaning forward to light her cigarette on the match. She leaned back and took a long drag as Veil extinguished. She felt … the weakness in her arms and legs felt less already, but the worry, the nervousness, the fear … that was all still there. Her mind was still on Vale, or in Vale, and the cigarette hadn't taken it away from there. It hadn't, or maybe it couldn't.

She glanced at Veil. "I thought you didn't want to be around when I smoked?"

"I don't like it," Veil admitted. "But I don't want to leave you alone, either."

"It's…" Leaf trailed off, because who would believe her when she said that it was fine?

Veil said, "They were okay when you spoke, right?"

"Yeah," Leaf said. "But that was … things can change." She took the cigarette out of her mouth and blew the smoke away from Veil. She coughed a little bit into her free hand and kept her mouth empty, the cigarette gripped between her fingers, as she turned back towards Veil.

"You'd think a rich guy could afford a house on the right side of the wall, wouldn't you?" she muttered.

"Your stepdad?" Veil asked. When Leaf nodded, she went on, "Is he actually rich, or did he just feel rich to you?"

That was a good point. "I suppose he is only middle class," Leaf admitted. "But still … outside the wall? Just because you can get a nice house cheaper there doesn't mean … I know that Vale wasn't exactly safe all the time tonight, but right now … I really wish they'd got inside the wall."

"And your dad?" Veil asked. "Where's he?"

"Passed out in the bathroom, probably, with no clue what's going on," Leaf muttered. She twitched and put the cigarette back in her mouth. "He lives in the Docklands, not far from the harbour." She took another drag, waiting for it to start calming her nerves. It was taking its sweet time about it. "He'll be fine, unless the whole city…" She didn't finish the sentence.

"I understand why Mum left him," she said. "After the time we came home and found him … I thought he was dead for a second. I think he might actually have been dead for a second. I understand, but at the same time, that didn't mean I wanted to see her run into the arms of someone else, just like that. Someone with a new, better daughter."

"'Better'?"

"Better than me," Leaf muttered. "I was…" She hesitated, puffing on her cigarette, turning away from Veil as she breathed out some more smoke. "I was kind of a bitch," she admitted, as she turned back to face her roommate. "And now…"

Now I might never be able to make it up to her.

Veil said, "I … you were right, earlier; I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know what's going on in Vale now any more than you do, or when we'll get some news. But what I do know is that we're always told that Atlas has the greatest army in the world. A world-class military. A world-beating … no, not world-beating — that implies we want to fight people — but we're supposed to be really good at this. And although they didn't win the tournament, the people that we saw — your friend Rainbow Dash, Blake in that one fight, Neon Katt, they were pretty good. And it seemed like they were doing better than okay when the battle started. So … even though I don't know what's going to happen, maybe having some faith in Atlas, and in your friends, would make you feel better than that cigarette will."

Leaf looked at her, taking the cigarette out of her mouth, holding it in her hand. "Have some faith?"

"It's not faith in nothing," Veil said. "And it couldn't hurt."

Leaf looked down at the cigarette in her hand. Having some faith. She'd like to have faith; she'd like to think that she did have faith, in Rainbow and in Blake and in her adopted home … but it was easier to have faith when you were having your faith confirmed on the news and by the fact that your mother was still okay and able to talk to you.

It was easier to have faith when you could see with your own eyes.

Saphron was standing at the window, tugging the curtains to one side a little as she looked out.

"There are people coming out into the streets," she announced, turning her head to look a little towards Terra. "They look confused. Some of them … might have their scrolls out, I'm not sure."

"Not just us then," Terra observed. She stood in front of the television, which had been playing static for a little while. As a computer engineer by profession, Terra had been fairly certain that it wasn't a problem with their TV set, even before she'd found that she couldn't get on the network on her scroll either.

And if the neighbours were having problems too, that just confirmed it.

Terra hoped that it was just a local failure; they weren't unheard of, but they could occasionally happen: relay towers could go on the fritz and stop transmitting equal signal strength in all directions. You could usually diagnose the problem remotely and fix it with a software patch.

She really hoped this was all it was, because if it wasn't … the potential issues only got larger in scale from there.

"Come away from the window," she told Saphron. "We don't want to attract attention."

Saphron did as Terra asked, stepping back and letting the curtain fall back down in front of her, but she also turned to Terra and asked, "Shouldn't we go out there, find out what's going on? I mean, they're our neighbours; they're not scary."

"Okay," Terra said, "but be careful."

Saphron didn't reply; she just slipped on her shoes and grabbed her keys on the way out of the door, which she shut behind her.

Terra, on the other hand, called Captain Vanille, her boss at the Atlesian base where she worked; he was an officer, even though he supervised a team of mostly civilian contractors like Terra.

And even though his team was mostly civilians, he insisted on them calling him 'sir.' Terra had gotten used to it.

It took him a little while to answer, a little while during which Terra's foot tapped impatiently on the floor as she kept shooting glances towards the front door. She wondered how Saphron was getting on out there with the neighbours; probably better than Terra would have.

Captain Vanille answered. Terra could hear the sounds of feet moving rapidly and heavily upon surfaces, as well as voices raised in … was that marching chant?

"Cotta-Arc," Captain Vanille said in a weary voice. "Let me guess, you're calling about the CCT issue."

"I'm not the first, sir?"

"Not even close, Cotta-Arc," Captain Vanille replied.

"And?" Terra asked. "How bad is it?"

Captain Vanille didn't reply.

"Sir?" Terra asked. "Is it an issue with the relay tower? Do you need someone to go and take a look at it?"

"If I did, I'd have called you," Captain Vanille informed her. "We received a transmission from Vale, informing us that communications were about to be lost and blackout protocols were in effect. Then we lost the CCT."

"'Lost the…'" Terra's eyes widened. "You mean … the whole network is down?"

"We sent an acknowledgement, but now we can't raise Atlas, or the General in Vale, or reach anyone in Mistral," Captain Vanille said. "We're on our own out here."

"Gods," Terra muttered. The CCT was down? Completely down? The whole network was down? The worst case scenario was the one that had come to pass? That was…

What was going to happen now?

"In the circumstances," Captain Vanille went on, "don't bother coming in tomorrow; I'll let you know if I need you the day after. It will probably take that long for Colonel Cordovin to decide what to do next, and even then, I'm not sure how much use we'll have for a CCT Technician with no CCT network."

Thanks for reminding me that I could be out of a job thanks to this, sir, Terra thought. It might not be the biggest issue to come out of this, but it was important to her personally. "Okay," she said softly. "I understand. Thank you for being honest with me, sir."

"I've got to get back to it; it's all hands on deck here," Captain Vanille said. "But I'll be in touch."

"Yes, sir," Terra said, but he'd already hung up on her.

Terra was left standing in the living room, looking down the hall, with her scroll in her hand.

The CCT was down.

Communications across the whole of Remnant were offline.

The front door opened and Saphron came in. "It's the same story all along the street," she announced. "No TV, no scroll signals—"

"The CCT's down," Terra said. "My boss at the base just confirmed it."

Saphron shut the door without looking at it. Her blue eyes were fixed on Terra. "When you say 'down,' you mean—"

"It's all gone," Terra said. "All of it. We can't talk to Mistral, to Atlas—"

"Or Vale," Saphron murmured. "My family." She paused. "Can it be fixed?"

"That depends," Terra replied. "On what caused it to go down in the first place. Given the circumstances, it probably isn't a software issue."

Given that they'd seen a giant grimm reported on the news, it was likely — possible, at least — that the Vale tower had been physically damaged or destroyed. In which case, they'd have to build a new tower, and then … the four towers had all been built at the same time, all turned on at the same time, entangled together; could they add a fourth tower back into the network and thus restore it? Terra didn't know. She wasn't sure if anybody knew.

"What about running the network off three towers?" asked Saphron.

"I don't know if that's possible either, but even if it was, it would mean we still couldn't talk to Vale," Terra said. "It would be out of range."

"I … see," Saphron murmured. "So you're saying the only way to send messages between kingdoms now, the only way to find out what's going on, is—"

"The mail," Terra said.

"So I'll either get a letter from Jaune telling me that he made it through the battle okay," Saphron said, "or he was too lazy to put pen to paper."

Terra smiled, glad that Saphron was taking it without despair, or at least putting a brave face on things. "On a more prosaic note, if the CCT does remain down, then you might have to get a job. Not much call for a CCT software engineer when there's no CCT network."

Saphron's eyebrows rose. "So, communications are down across Remnant, and you're unemployed? This gets better and better, doesn't it?" She kicked off her shoes and walked softly across the hall, her bare feet making practically no sound at all. "But with Jaune and Pyrrha fighting for their lives in Vale and communications down across the world, we should count our blessings, shouldn't we? Even if you don't have a job, we're still safe, and we have Adrian, and he's safe, and I'm pretty sure the bar down the road is looking for kitchen staff." She approached Terra, placing her forearms on her shoulders, her hands joined together as though she were about to pull Terra into an embrace. She didn't though, not yet, though she stood close by, looking ever so slightly down into Terra's eyes.

"They'll be fine, won't they?" she asked. "Tell me again that they'll be fine."

"They'll be fine," Terra told her. "The valour of Mistral, with its undefeated champion at the forefront, and allied too with the might of Atlas, will triumph without a doubt, no matter what setbacks may be thrown in their way by the course of the battle. Their final victory cannot be doubted. They'll be fine."

Now, Saphron pulled her into an embrace, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Then so will we," she said. "So will we."

Dad had started keeping the hunting rifles locked up in a cabinet when Rouge was young; all the children were grown up now — physically, anyway — with the possible exception of Violet, but nevertheless, the Arc family rifles were still kept in a locked cabinet in the shed out back.

That was where Sky was right now, looking for the right key amongst the many keys on this particular keychain with one hand, while in her other hand, she held her scroll.

"No, Sprout, I don't know what's going on," Sky spoke into the scroll, as she picked her way past Grandpa's creepy old stuffed Jackalopes — why they still had these, she did not know, no one liked them; when she was a kid, she used to hate coming in here because of the way their eyes used to follow her around — towards the gun cabinet at the back. "If I knew what was going on, I would tell you, like I've told you everything I know: the TV has gone dead, Kendal can't get through to her bosses in Vale, Aoko can't get … anything, and all our scrolls say there's no signal."

"Then … how are we talking?" Sprout asked. "Are we talking? Is this all in my head, am I hallucinating this out of—?"

"No, Sprout, it's not all in your head," Sky told him, wishing — and not for the first time — that she had another deputy. "We're talking. Aoko says that our devices can still communicate point to point; it's just anything longer distance that isn't working." That hadn't been the only thing that Aoko had said — she'd also said that she thought that the reason for that was that the whole network was down everywhere, across the whole of Remnant — but as that wasn't something that Sky knew, only something that Aoko thought, she wasn't going to bring it up.

No sense in panicking people before time. There'd be panic enough once it was confirmed. If it was confirmed.

She was just glad that the mayor went to bed early; she wouldn't have to deal with him until morning.

Things might not be any clearer in the morning, but at least it would be morning; she didn't want to have him yelling her ear in the middle of the night.

"Now," she went on, "what I need you to do is get the huntsman up and out, tell him that I'm worried that there might be some trouble tonight, and I'd like it if he stood guard."

"That guy scares me," Sprout whined.

"Why?" Sky asked. "I think he likes you."

"He offered to put me through training so vigorous that I'd wish I was dead!"

"I'm pretty sure that was him being nice," Sky replied. "Look, you don't have to hang out with him, just get him out of bed if he's there and have him outside where people can see him. Then take a wander around the village, knock on doors, make sure everyone's okay. Nice and calm, no fuss, no bother."

"Uh huh. And what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going to be on patrol," Sky said as she found the right key to unlock the cabinet. "You think you can handle that?"

"I … guess so," Sprout admitted. "Patrol where?"

"I'll talk to you later, Sprout," Sky said as she hung up on him.

She shoved her scroll into her pocket as she shoved the gun cabinet key — it was a small key, kind of knife-shaped — into the slightly rusty lock and, with a bit of jiggling, managed to turn it to unlock the cabinet.

A pair of long-barrelled hunting rifles, breech-loaders with wooden stocks and telescopic sights, confronted her, along with a couple of boxes of ammunition.

"Going out on patrol?" Rouge said. "That's new."

Sky half turned around. Her eldest sister stood in the shed doorway, her hands clutching the folds of her skirt.

"For one of us," Sky observed. "I saw the way you looked in there, when Aoko couldn't connect to anything. You were going to head out, weren't you?"

Rouge hesitated, not speaking.

"Come on," Sky said. "I know what you are now, what you can do; you can be honest with me."

With one hand, Rouge reached up and clutched at some of the rocks on her necklace. "Yes," she murmured. "I was worried that people might start to worry, and that worry would … bring the grimm. If all the grimm in this country aren't already at Vale, troubling Jaune, bringing the CCT network down."

Sky ignored that last part. "And how were you going to explain that to Mom and Dad and everyone else? Were you going to tell them that you were going to stalk the woods protecting everyone with your magic powers?"

"I … hadn't thought about it," Rouge replied.

"Good thing I thought about it for you, then," Sky said. "You're going out on patrol with me, to watch my back. What could be more natural? You want a gun?"

"I don't need one."

"Take one anyway, for the look of the thing," Sky told her, as she grabbed one of the boxes of ammunition in one hand and wrapped her other arm around both hunting rifles. That left the cabinet empty, apart from the remaining rounds, as she began to make her way back towards Rouge.

"Alright," Rouge said softly. "I hope Aoko's wrong about this."

"About the CCT?" Sky asked.

Rouge nodded. "You might think it wouldn't affect us, but it will."

"We survive fine without Vale up in our business," Sky replied.

"We rely on Vale buying what we produce," Rouge said. "Our wool, our fruit and vegetables, our milk."

"Will people not need fruit and veg because they can't watch TV?" asked Sky.

"Will anyone be able to pay for it without the CCT?" responded Rouge. "Isn't most money stored on computers?"

"It is?" Sky said. "That … that's something for someone other than me to worry about." She handed Rouge a rifle, glad to have one of them taken off her hands so that she could get a better grip on the one she had left. "I understand that it's not ideal, and I wasn't thrilled to suddenly not be able to find out what was happening with Jaune, but Vale existed before the CCT, and it'll survive without it, right? Our ancestors didn't need a network when they raised this town, and we can't give up on it just because we don't have a network." She put the ammunition next to a jackalope for just long enough to chamber a round into the breach of the rifle. "What was it you said that night, about generations of Arc women keeping the town safe?"

"While generations of Arc men protected the world," Rouge murmured. "Like Jaune." She paused. "Kendal's talking about going to Vale, to find out what's going on. Dad thinks it's too dangerous."

"It is dangerous," Sky said. "But, if the network doesn't come back online—"

"I thought we didn't need one."

"We don't need it, but someone's going to have to find out what's going on," Sky pointed out. "Although maybe Kendal doesn't have to go all the way to Vale; maybe she can just go to the next town over and check out the lie of the land from there. Or … maybe it won't be dangerous; maybe by tomorrow, or by the time that Kendal reaches it, whenever she sets out, it will all be over."

"We can only hope," Rouge murmured. "Because while we might — or might not — be able to do without the CCT network, I don't think that this village, I'm fairly certain that we couldn't do without Vale, and I'm afraid that if Vale was lost—"

"Then we'd have lost Jaune," Sky said quietly.

"Yes," Rouge whispered. "Yes, we would, but not only that … I'm afraid that not even these magic stones would be enough to protect Alba Longa from what came next."

The sconces in the corridors burned a dull red, illuminated by the fire dust crystals burning within. They cast long shadows on the floor, the shadows of Terri-Belle and her sisters.

Terri-Belle stalked down the palace corridor towards her father's chamber, her sandals squeaking as she marched over a mosaic of Theseus II descending into the underworld. She stepped directly upon the emperor's face and then beyond him, treading over the dark rocks of Erech's domain as she moved swiftly towards her destination.

The CCT was down. The whole network had collapsed. The technicians had already assured her — with commendable speed — that it was not a fault in the White Tower, and therefore, it was not something that they could correct. Rather, the fault lay elsewhere, most likely in Vale, and wherever it was, it was beyond their capacity to repair it here in Mistral.

From what they had told her, Terri-Belle understood that it might well be impossible to repair at all. They hadn't been entirely sure, but in such circumstances, Terri-Belle preferred to take the more sceptical — one might say pessimistic — attitude.

That way she wouldn't be disappointed.

The CCT was down, and they had to proceed as though it was going to be down for the foreseeable future, if not forever. That would lead to panic in Mistral — and Mistral, it had to be admitted — had not exactly been calm before this. This news from Vale, the footage of the battles raging there, the fact that all track had been lost of Pyrrha Nikos — not to mention the sons and daughters of Haven — had put the streets into a state of excitement already; now that the CCT was down … the absence of news was more likely to inflame the city than calm its passions.

Too much excitement would mean that it would not only be Vale that was facing the fury of the grimm.

Her sisters followed her down the corridor; Shining Light and Blonn Di were on either side of her, while Swift Foot followed directly behind. Blonn Di's shadow sometimes fell upon her as the dull lights of the dust crystals fell upon the four.

"Shining Light, I want the entire Imperial Guard mustered in the palace courtyard; I'll join them there as soon as I've spoken to our Lord Father," Terri-Belle ordered.

"The entire company?" Shining Light asked.

"Yes, all of them," Terri-Belle said. "And Blonn Di: Professor Lionheart isn't answering my calls, so go to Haven and rouse him directly. Tell him that the CCT is down and that he is to … gather huntsmen to be ready at need, as many as he can muster, in case of an attack on Mistral."

"And if I find him not at Haven?" asked Blonn Di.

"Search brothels and dive bars," muttered Shining Light, a smirk upon her face.

Terri-Belle looked at her with something close to a glare on her face. "You should already be gone about your orders," she snapped.

Shining Light swallowed and bowed her head. "To hear is to obey, Captain and Warden." She bowed lower, from the waist, although not all the way, before she turned and scampered off back down the corridor in the direction from which they had come.

Terri-Belle kept walking as she returned her attention to Blonn Di. "Search the school if you don't find him in his office or his bedchamber, but look no further. If Lionheart is not there, then go to the Huntsman's Guild and find someone there who can assemble huntsmen."

"The Huntsman's Guild is not very happy with you presently," Blonn Di observed.

"I care not if I am the most pestilential creature in all of Remnant to the Huntsman's Guild," Terri-Belle declared. "Mistral may come under attack this very night. Tell them that and see if it will move them more than pique at me."

"As the Warden of the White Tower commands, I'll do these offices," Blonn Di said, offering a cursory bow of the head before she, too, departed.

Swift Foot was now the only one of her sisters who remained, and she moved to the side a little so that she was no longer directly behind Terri-Belle.

"Do you really think that Mistral will be attacked?" she asked.

"If the people begin to panic, then panic will bring the grimm," Terri-Belle declared. "It may be there are no grimm close enough, but it may be that there are."

"So what will you do?" asked Swift Foot.

"I will do as the Steward of Mistral, our lord and father, shall command me to do," Terri-Belle answered.

"Alright then, but what would you do?" Swift Foot. "What will you do if Father asks for your advice?"

Terri-Belle did not reply for a moment, considering her response. It had indeed been germinating in her mind, just in case Father should ask for her opinion, but nevertheless, she took an additional moment to give it further consideration. "I would position most of the Guard upon the walls, to keep watch for any approaching grimm, but I would select a dozen of them and have them patrol the streets in number, as a single company, to give the impression of strength that may—"

"Fool the people?" Swift Foot asked.

"Reassure them," Terri-Belle corrected. "I mean no deception."

"You want to make it seem that you have more strength than you have," Swift Foot suggested.

"Huntsmen and huntresses will increase our strength," Terri-Belle countered, although her youngest sister was not entirely wrong upon this point. "Polemarch Yeoh should not have taken our soldiers away to Vale."

"Would they have been any good?" asked Swift Foot. "They were very new."

"They would have been bodies on the wall," Terri-Belle answered.

As it stood, her numbers were very small. A single huntsman could fight on against many more grimm, but all the same, her numbers were very few to defend a whole city.

And all the while, the nascent beginnings of Mistral's army was caught up in a different battle, irrelevant to them and to their interests, far away in Vale. What a waste. What a mistake by Yeoh.

A mistake that she would have to live with; walking up and down this corridor demanding that Yeoh give her back her soldiers would not whisk them across land and sea and sky to Mistral.

"I could be another body on the wall," Swift Foot pointed out. "Let me help you."

"You will," Terri-Belle told her.

"I will?"

"But not on the walls of Mistral," Terri-Belle added. They were approaching Father's chambers now; his door, guarded by two Imperial Guards, loomed before them, getting larger as they drew closer. "I would have you relieve the guard on Father's door and wait there until you are relieved in turn."

"You call that help?" Swift Foot demanded. "To stand outside a door in the middle of a palace?"

"To guard our father, with your life, if need be," Terri-Belle replied, her voice as firm as the stones that made the palace. "An honourable position."

"A position without a scrap of glory to be found," Swift Foot muttered.

"There is more to life than glory," Terri-Belle declared. "And certainly, there is more to faithful service than the lust for glory." She turned and looked directly down on Swift Foot. "Guard our father," she urged. "Relieve two warriors whom I can make better use of elsewhere than here. Do your duty, as a daughter of Mistral."

Swift Foot's hand went to the hilt of her rhomphaia. "Very well," she said. "If Father will have me."

Terri-Belle did not reply to that, in part because they had almost reached the doors. "You are relieved," Terri-Belle told the guards. "The company is mustering in the courtyard; join them there. My sister will take over from you here."

The two guards — their names were Circe and Polyphemus — turned their eyes, all three of them between them, upon Swift Foot for a moment, but neither of them questioned her commands.

"As you order, Captain," Polyphemus said, his voice a low bass rumble, as both he and Circe headed off, in the opposite direction to which Terri-Belle and Swift Foot had approached.

"Wait here," Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot drew her long, curved blade. It glimmered in the dull red light of the fire dust as she rested the tip upon the floor. "Shall I let no one pass?" she asked.

"Use your own judgement as to who comes, and on what business," Terri-Belle replied.

Swift Foot nodded. She looked incredibly earnest as she stood beside the door, no longer looking at Terri-Belle at all, her eyes fixed — not moving even a fraction — outwards, the way by which they had approached.

The doors to Father's chamber were ornately carved, decorated with bas-reliefs depicting the old gods of Mistral, from Seraphis ruling in the skies above to Amphitrite in the oceans and all the way down to Erech ruling in the underworld below. The door handles were brass, polished each day by servants; it was those handles that Terri-Belle seized, pushing open the doors into the Steward's chambers.

It was not Father's bedroom that confronted her within, but a sitting room where he could entertain his closest intimates in comfort and privacy; it was lit only by a soft blue light, illuminating enough of the plump settees and antique chairs for Terri-Belle to navigate around them and find the curtain separating the sitting room from Father's bedchamber.

The bedroom, which she entered as she ducked beneath the curtain, her tall mohawk acting as something of an obstacle for it for a few seconds, was smaller than the sitting room but not small; it had ample space to move around in if one wished to prowl by night. A large four-poster bed dominated, with all of the silk curtains of Imperial purple drawn, concealing Father from the sight of men. A golden water jug sat on a gold tray on the nightstand, with a crystal goblet resting beside it.

Terri-Belle approached quietly; though it was her intention to wake her father, she did not wish to do so by her heavy-footedness.

Some might have found it strange that Father could sleep on such a night as this, when confusion reigned and anxiety gripped the streets of Mistral like a hand around the throat, but Father had declared that whatever occurred would be as true when he awoke as when it happened. And Father was an old man, after all, and needed his rest to remain wise and considered in his judgement. No doubt, even in his dreams, he was thinking of what might be and how best to govern Mistral amidst the turbulent seas that might soon engulf it.

They might have need of such wisdom in the days ahead.

Terri-Belle pulled back the curtain. Her father lay sleeping, lying on his back, his eyes closed, his fingers interlocking over his chest just below his snow white beard.

He looked almost as a man dead. An old man claimed by the years he had run out of, gone to his grave with honour, about to be interred.

He looked so peaceful thus in his repose that Terri-Belle felt the urge to bend down and plant a kiss upon his forehead, as if a last kiss, before she sent him on his way.

It was as well that she was not in the habit of disturbing her father while he slept, or else she would have probably done it by now.

As it was, she only reached out with one strong hand and nudged his shoulder as gently as she could. His silk nightrobe of rich gold felt soft beneath her fingertips.

“Father,” she said softly. “Father, you must awake.”

The eyes of Lord Diomedes Thrax — he had violet eyes, like Swift Foot — opened slowly at first, then in a rapid flickering, and finally, they looked up at Terri-Belle.

“Terri-Belle?” he said, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. “Have you descended in office to become the groom of my bedchamber?”

Terri-Belle bowed her head. “I apologise for disturbing you, Lord. It is an urgent matter.”

Father began to sit up in bed. “What time is it?”

“It is not quite dawn,” Terri-Belle replied.

Father frowned, adding more wrinkles to an already wrinkled brow. “And what news is so urgent that it could not wait until the hour of my rising?”

“The CCT is down, Father, Lord,” Terri-Belle informed him. “We cannot contact Thrace, Argus, Piraeus, anywhere beyond the city limits or a little further.”

When Theseus the First had founded Mistral upon this mountain, he had chosen well from a perspective of defence, but he had not been thinking about the technological advancements that would come after, clearly. The mountains and valleys that surrounded Mistral were a beauteous sight to behold, but they blocked CCT signal, even with many relay towers planted upon them; now that the network as a whole was down, broadcasting any signal past those mountains verged on impossible.

“And you wake me to tell me this?” Father said. “No doubt it will be fixed by the time I wake up.”

He started to turn away, preparatory to lying down again.

“No, Lord, it will not,” Terri-Belle insisted, her voice rising. “This is not a computer glitch that can be resolved in the White Tower; I have already spoken to the technicians, and they tell me it is not a problem here. The whole network is down, across Remnant. They believe that one of the towers has gone offline, probably in Vale, given the battle that is being fought there.”

Now, Father froze. Slowly, after a moment, he turned back to look at her once more. He stared at her intently, his eyes seeming to gleam a little in the gloom of the bedchamber.

“The Valish tower is fallen?”

“So seems the most likely explanation, yes,” Terri-Belle murmured. “I have not been to Vale to see it for myself.”

“And all communications are cut-off?”

“Yes, my lord,” Terri-Belle said. She paused a moment before she added, “Coming as this does amidst the news from Vale, I fear that the people will be greatly distressed, and that in their distress, they may call the grimm down on us.”

Father said, “In the morning, I shall send a messenger to Thrace, a rider; no, I shall send an airship, but I shall require a warrior of the guard to act as their escort. I will tell them … I must sleep a little longer on what the message will be, but they must know that though they cannot speak, Thrace is not forgotten.”

“No, Lord,” Terri-Belle murmured.

Thrace was the historic heart of the Thrax family and their strength: the location of many of their lands, their ancestral home, the place they had been kings and queens of not once, but twice, before the coming of the Mistralian Emperors and again during the days of the Red Queen. It would be as well to keep in touch, maintain the ties between their family and the old country.

It was also a strong land, if not the richest land, a land of hardy hill folk skilled in scouting and skirmishing and hunting. If Father’s messenger were to summon a few more of them here to Mistral, that would be no bad thing at all.

“In the meantime,” Father went on, “I fear there may be some truth to what you say of the people and their passions. Deploy the Imperial Guard to protect the palace immediately and send word to the Councillors, as well as to the patricians and the heads of the guilds, that they may join us here and shelter under our protection.”

It took a moment for Terri-Belle to realise what she had just heard. “The … the palace, Father?”

Father looked at her. “Do we not speak now as the Steward unto the Warden of the White Tower?”

Terri-Belle bowed her head once more. “Forgive me. The Palace, Lord?”

“The people, in their fear, may try to do some mischief to us, or to some other great ones,” Father explained. “I do not wish to suffer the fate of Princess Juturna. If the mob comes to our door, then they will find us well prepared, and you will meet them with steel and force if needs be. Do not be misguided in your mercy.”

Terri-Belle restrained the frown that threatened to cross her face. She could understand Father’s concern, to some extent, but though the people were frightened, they would hardly take out their fear upon the Steward and his family … or would they? There had been murmurings of discontent before this, over the response to the various grimm attacks on outlying villages and towns, the lack of protection for them. Such sentiment would boil over again … but was that not more likely if the Imperial Guard was arranged around the palace instead of on the walls?

And if the grimm attacked, then what was the point of a palace when the city was in ruins?

“But, my lord,” she murmured. “If the grimm should come—”

“Then let the huntsmen defend the city; is that not why they exist?” Father asked. “Let them, and Lionheart, prove that they are good for something.”

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. She did not agree with her father’s decision. She did not see the point in concentrating all her forces to defend the palace only, leaving the fortunes of Mistral in the hands of other huntsmen. She was the Warden of the White Tower, with all of Mistral in her charge, not the palace only.

But he was her father, the Steward of Mistral, and she was faithfully sworn unto his service, to obey him in all things.

She had told Swift Foot that she would obey him in all things.

That did not mean that she could not speak. “My lord,” she said. “I do not think that we should abandon the defences of the city without making at least some effort to secure them.”

“And what is the purpose of a city, or a kingdom, whose rulers have been torn to pieces by an angry mob?” Father asked. “What is the purpose of a body without a head? Mistral may be vulnerable, but so is our position, and we must make the second secure before we may address the weakness of the first.” His lips twitched, as though he might smile, although he did not. “Your courage does you credit, my daughter, and your feeling of care towards the common rabble are worthy of a hero of the old tales. But it is a loyal daughter and an obedient captain that I require, not a hero, just as it is a wise Steward to guide it through these troubled waters that Mistral requires, not a benevolent fool dead of an excess of his own virtues.”

His voice dropped somewhat. “They once compared me with the old Lord Rutulus, father to the present lord,” he murmured. “They praised him for his antique virtue and excoriated me for lacking the same. But all his virtue saw him murdered, while my despised craft saw me survive and endure and guide Mistral out of the anarchy and to the renewed prosperity which we are blessed withal. So it shall be again, if you are loyal to me and obedient to my will.”

She had told Swift Foot that she would obey the Steward in all things.

Terri-Belle bowed, taking a step back to bend lower, placing one fist above her heart. “I shall respects, obedient to your will, my lord,” she declared. “It shall be done.”

A startled cry ran through the Square of Heroes as the picture was lost.

The composition of the crowd was not what it had been, when so many had gathered to watch Pyrrha Nikos triumph for Mistral over Weiss Schnee in the Amity Colosseum; people had gone home since there, or departed from the square at least, but others had trickled in to replace them, as if driven from their homes at this moment of confusion by the need for companionship, for someone — for a great many someones — to share their confusion and their fear with.

Turnus had remained too, with his remaining escorts, not because he wanted to share his feelings with the crowd so much as because he wanted to understand how the crowd was feeling, how the people of Mistral were reacting to all of this; he would get a better sense of that here in the Square of Heroes with so many people surrounding him than he would at home watching the news.

Someone with a bit of technical knowhow had clambered over the metal barriers that had surrounded the giant screens set up for the final match and tinkered with them in order to, for want of a better expression, change the channel. They had not done so until after the fighting had moved decisively out of the Amity Arena, and so, Turnus and the people had been given a good view of the fighting there.

That had produced a rallying of the public mood, for a moment; though the people had gasped when the shield was broken and the grimm began to descend into the heart of the arena, when Arslan Altan had led all the swords of Haven out onto the battlefield, a great cheer had risen up from the assembled masses, a cheer that Turnus could only imagine was echoed across the living rooms and bedrooms of Mistral by all those watching. At that moment, as the students of Haven swarmed the griffons, the initial shock of the grimm attack had lost a little of its sting, and it had been possible to believe that order would swiftly be restored.

The failure of Pyrrha to kill that teryx and its accompanying griffon had put a little dent in that enthusiasm, true, but that had been due to the incompetence of Jaune Arc, and in any case, the grimm had retired even if they were not killed. Things had seemed to be going fairly well, until everyone had left the arena and it had become impossible to see what was happening.

At which point, some enterprising soul had changed the channel, and Turnus had spent the rest of the night — it was coming up to morning in Mistral, though it remained the dead of night in Vale to the west of them — watching a collage of confusion, as various reporters in Vale tried to work out what was happening.

A madness seemed to have gripped Vale; a literal madness, apparently, something about the command staff of their military losing their minds and deciding that now, in the midst of a grimm attack, was the perfect time to start a war with the Atlesians. And then, and this was something Turnus had gathered from his scroll as much as from the giant screens in the square, the First Councillor had come in, accompanied by Pyrrha and Ruby's slandered teammate Sunset Shimmer, and like the adult in the room, told the children to put their toys away and go to bed.

It was like a comic opera interlude with deadly consequences, a clownish subplot in which some people had ended up dead. It was absolutely bizarre. Turnus wasn't sure what to make of it. A mass delirium? Had anyone ever heard of such a thing before?

Mind you, there could be mass hysteria, so why not mass delirium? They were all just surges of emotion amongst a crowd, no?

Speaking of mass hysteria, Turnus was afraid that the mood of the crowd had only gone downhill from the initial moments of hope when it had seemed like all things might be swiftly tied up and the grimm incursion dealt with.

Partly, that was due to the chaos in Vale, a chaos which was only partly the result of mass delirium. Even before the Valish Defence Forces had decided to succumb to a bout of lunacy, there had been reports of grimm cultists running rampant, power blackouts, the Valish punditry barricaded in their own studio while murderous cultists tried to break in and kill them all. People had been understandably concerned for the fate of the Mistralian tourists and the Haven students — friends, relatives, admired idols, or simply their fellow countrymen — who seemed to have wandered into first a snakepit and then, as news about the Valish Defence Force trickled in, a madhouse. The fact that the First Councillor had cleaned up that particular mess was not so reassuring when set against the fact that the mess had been made in the first place.

And then there were the grimm, who had continued to attack; it had become increasingly clear that this was no minor grimm incursion, no opportunistic attack of a few fliers, no; no, the fighting had moved from the Amity Arena down to Beacon, and then to the outskirts of Vale itself, where Atlesian troops and huntsmen from all the schools were presently engaged. There were no cameras out there, no reporters venturing out into the field, but from within Vale, the cameras had been able to see the Atlesian warships firing lasers and missiles, and the sounds of artillery had been heard through the speakers.

There were clearly a very large number of grimm outside of Vale, trying to batter their way through the defences, so many grimm that it defied credulity that they could have stolen up on Vale without anyone, especially not the vaunted Atlesian airship pilots, noticing their presence.

It was clear, even to the crowds unlearned in the ways of the grimm who gathered in the square, and no doubt beyond the square as well, that the Valish had known — they must have known — that the grimm were gathered about their city in great numbers.

They had known, and yet, they had done nothing. They had let the people of Mistral come to their city, the students of Haven, scions of ancient families, the hopes and expectations of Mistral's future, they had let them place their heads in the jaws of a monster. And now, the jaws were trying to slam shut.

Curses were raised against the name of Vale, its leaders, its people; more curses would be raised by far if anyone of note were found to have fallen in this battle. The death of Phoebe, the destruction of the Kommenos family, had passed little regarded in the general enthusiasm for Pyrrha's triumph, amidst Phoebe's own unpopularity and the low regard into which the Kommenos family had fallen since the Great War. But if Arslan Altan should perish, or Jason and Meleager, or gods forbid, Pyrrha herself … such a roar of fury would rise from the streets as would make the White Tower tremble.

Perhaps they had fallen already; it was impossible to say for sure because the battle had been observed at such a distance that the gap between those reporting and the events on which they reported — speculated, almost — had seemed almost as great as the distance between those watching in Mistral and the events in far-off Vale of which they sought to learn. It was impossible to say who was alive, who had perished, who was wounded; all that could be said was that the battle had not ended yet, that the Atlesians at least fought on, their ships at least clear to see. Beyond that, beyond the fact that the grimm had clearly not been beaten yet — driven from Beacon, true, but that had not stopped them from assaulting Vale immediately after — the people had nothing but their faith in their heroes to sustain them as they waited for news with increasing anxiety.

And then that grimm had appeared.

It was like … Turnus would not say it was like nothing he had ever seen because it resembled certain fossils in the Mistralian Museum, but as far as grimm went, he had never heard of anything like it. It was huge; even at the distance from which the cameras showed it, it was huge, and only grew larger as it surged from afar towards the battle.

Grimm of monstrous size existed, Turnus had known that already, but to see one, even via the medium of a camera … as it flew forwards, Turnus found that there was a part of him that expected, that feared, that it would lunge through the screen and turn its wrath upon the Mistralian crowd.

Judging by the way the crowd had edged away from the screen, it seemed he had not been alone in that.

It had looked a mighty beast and had proven its might by the way it smashed through the Atlesian airships as though they were toys. Turnus' eyes had widened to behold it, that Atlas the modern, Atlas the advanced, Atlas the strong, Atlas that embraced the future and showed the model for a successful kingdom, Atlas was being defeated before his very eyes, having all its pride and its pretensions torn to shreds.

And then the grimm — the dragon, they called it, after the creatures whose bones were on display in the museum — had turned its attention on the other side of the battlefield, where it was thought the sons and daughters of Mistral were, and though they could not be seen…

Turnus could not believe he was the only one wondering how Mistralian swords could overcome a power that had triumphed over all the Atlesian technology.

And then they had lost the picture.

Not just the picture on the great screens, although they had gone black, but scrolls too. There was no more news from Vale, no more news from anywhere, no sites of any kind; everything was connection errors.

But Turnus could call Lausus, who was standing right beside him, and he could call Camilla also.

She answered at once. For a moment, as her face appeared on the screen, it seemed that she was chewing on her lip. She stopped almost immediately. "My lord? How are things?"

"Not good," Turnus said quickly. "Camilla, do you have the television on?"

Camilla frowned. "We have lost our connection, my lord; is it the same with you as well?"

"It is," Turnus confirmed. "And is there anything on your scroll?"

"You," Camilla pointed out. "But no, I cannot access the CCT; I am told it's unavailable. Opis has found the same, and Juturna. What's going on?"

"I fear…" Turnus murmured. "Stay where you are, protect the house, keep Juturna safe."

"Are you coming back, my lord?"

"Soon, perhaps, but not yet," Turnus told her.

"Then be safe," Camilla urged him. "I fear the mood on the streets—"

"Is not a happy one," Turnus agreed. "But I'll be fine. You will see me shortly, I promise. In the meantime, take care yourself—"

"And of Juturna," Camilla finished. "Have no fear; she is safe in my charge."

"No doubt," Turnus said, even managing a slight smile before he hung up.

"What do you think it means, my lord?" asked Lausus.

Turnus put his scroll away. "It means," he began, "it means that … it may mean that the whole network is down, the CCT tower in Vale has been knocked out."

It may have meant that, or it might not, but it certainly seemed likely, considering the presence of that enormous grimm and the fact that it had been last seen heading in the direction of Beacon.

If the CCT was down, then … no communications across Remnant. No access to his money in Atlas — that was a wrench, but it did make him glad that he'd sold his SDC stocks when he did; they were in Mistralian assets now — no way of contacting his bailiffs or managers on his country estates, no way of contacting the subsidiary offices of Rutulian Security. No way for Juturna to talk to her friend Ruby.

No way of knowing what was going on in Vale right now. The flower of Mistral could be dying as they stood here, and they would have even less knowledge of it than they had had before. They were reduced, as their ancestors had been reduced, to looking for their coming from the White Tower and hoping they would return.

Small wonder that a great cry of alarm had risen up from the people gathered in the square, everyone turning to one another and asking what it meant, everyone looking at their scrolls and finding nothing.

"What's going on?"

"What does it mean?"

The sounds of the speakers was replaced in the Square of Heroes by the chatter of a frantic crowd, all demanding answers that came not, spinning implications out of fear.

"If the grimm could get so close to Vale, perhaps they are in sight of Mistral also?"

"The job board has been shut down because the Steward dares not let any huntsman leave the city!"

"Our heroes and soldiers were sent away to fight in Vale, and we have been left defenceless!"

"Treachery! We are betrayed!"

"Good people, calm yourselves!" Turnus shouted, using his semblance to make himself seem taller in the eyes of men. "Calm yourselves, or you will run riot at phantoms and bring the grimm upon yourselves by your antic dispositions."

Eyes turned towards him. Many in the crowd began to recognise him, even if they had not noticed him before.

"Lord Rutulus, what is going on?"

"Lord Rutulus, are we safe?"

"Lord Rutulus, why is the CCT network down?"

"Lord Rutulus, what do you know? Tell us! Tell us!"

"There are no secret councils to which I am privy," Turnus told them. "There are no clandestine meetings of patricians to plot the betrayal of Mistral, I assure you; we are, as we have always been, united in our devotion to this great kingdom of ours and greatly desirous for its success, prosperity, and safety. I know no more than I have seen and heard tonight, which is to say I know no more than you." He paused. "I am no prophet new-inspired to tell you with certainty that our Vytal Champion and all the sons and daughters of Haven will return safely, although I hope as dearly as the rest of you that they shall return with laurels bright upon their brows and glories fit to grace the names of ancient houses trailing in their wake. But I cannot promise you that, nor can any honest man or woman. What I can tell you is that … fear will undo us long before we meet the foe."

Those had been his father's words; he had spoken them when he had vowed to end the growing Anarchy that was engulfing Mistral and bring down the enigmatic master criminal at the centre of the growing web of crime. He had urged his fellow citizens to take courage and stand up for their city. Fear, as he had said, would undo them long before the criminals moved in.

Fear had already undone the people of Mistral by the time he spoke those words, and it had fallen to Camilla to display all courage and resolve that was to be found in the whole city, but that did not make his father wrong; the words he had spoken were as true as the day they had passed his lips.

"I do not say that there is nothing to fear," Turnus went on. "But are we not Mistralians? Were our ancestors not renowned for their valour? Would they not be ashamed to see you now, cowering at shadows, or less than shadows, letting your wild imaginations run amok, conjuring monsters to devour you? People of Mistral, go home. Pray to your gods if you are so inclined, and if not, then send at least your good wishes to our students fighting in Vale. And in the meantime…" — Turnus was aware, at least a part of him was, that he might be overstepping his bound at this point, but he might also be seizing an opportunity — "in the meantime, I will guarantee the safety of the city. If any grimm approach, they will be met with force and put to death before they reach our streets, you have my word."

There was no great cheer of enthusiasm, there was no outpouring of gratitude, but in the circumstances, Turnus was inclined to call it a success that he wasn't met by derisive jeering. The very fact that some in the crowd looked at least a little reassured was, in itself, reassuring to him.

There seemed little else to be said, even as it felt as though he hadn't closed strong enough. "This is Mistral," Turnus declared. "And Mistral she shall ever remain, so long as Mistral's folk stay true to her."

He turned away, moving through a crowd that parted to make way for him, while his warriors — Lausus, Aventinus, Silvia, Tulla, and Ufens — followed after him.

Lausus walked quickly, so as to draw almost level with him. "You will guarantee the safety of the city, my lord?" he asked, a touch of incredulity in his voice.

"This is my home, as much as anyone else's," Turnus pointed out. "I want to see it fall no more than any other man, and no doubt less than some."

"No one wants to see Mistral fall, my lord," Ufens called out from behind. "But if a big bugger like that one we saw turns up, I don't know what we could do about it."

"As well ask what we could do if the gods wished to see Mistral fall, Ufens," Turnus declared. He turned to face his men, walking backwards as he spoke. "Some things we mortal men cannot stand before, but that is no reason we cannot dare defy the rest. If a titan should appear, then yes, we will die, but I will not let the fear of such keep me cowering at home while beowolves prowl about the walls."

"Fair point, my lord," Silvia said.

"Lord Thrax and Lady Terri-Belle may think we take too much upon ourselves, lord," Lausus murmured.

"You mean I take too much upon myself?" Turnus asked.

"Our fortunes rise and fall with yours," Lausus pointed out. "You are the moon, and we the tides you pull this way and that … but yes, my lord, it's mostly you."

"If Lady Terri-Belle had wished to speak and calm the crowd, she could have been there," Turnus declared. "And if she wishes to stand upon the wall, I shall not stop her."

"Just as well, lord; there aren't many of us to do it alone," muttered Ufens.

"That is why we're not going to stand upon the wall," Turnus said as he got out his scroll and called Camilla once again.

"My lord," she said as she answered. "Is there more news?"

"No," Turnus said. "But I want you to get two, no, three airships, then meet me at the skydock with most of our people. Leave Opis, Drances, Gyas, Halaesus, and Messapus to guard Juturna, with Messapus in command."

"At once, my lord," Camilla said. "But why, if I may ask?"

"We're going to mount aerial patrols around Mistral to make sure nothing approaches the city," Turnus said. "If any patrol spots any grimm, they'll engage and destroy them."

"Do you think a grimm attack is likely, my lord?" asked Camilla.

"I honestly don't know," Turnus admitted. "But either way, the people will remember it."

Author's Note

And so we have the last 'view from across Remnant' chapter, fittingly coming at precisely the moment at which all these characters stop being able to see what's happening.

The idea of the grimm bringing down the CCT and causing a worldwide comms blackout is one of the coolest ideas in Volume 3, to be honest, and it causes a lot of difficulties for the characters once they become separated, so I want to keep it here because even though they aren't separated at the moment, they will be.

The suggestion that Terra might lose her job as a result of the blackout is a reminder that it's not just big, sweeping, 'Ironwood can't command his military' consequences to all this, there are smaller issues like CCT technicians no longer being required to the extent that they were.

Of the scenes here, the most important are probably the ones at the end, with Terri-Belle and Turnus, as they help to set up for Volume 4. As Lord Thrax willingly cedes ground by failing to intervene at the moment of crisis, Turnus moves in, presenting himself as an alternative rallying point. One of the issues with his plan in the original was the idea that the people would look to him when he wasn't doing anything, but here he is taking action, the only one who is, and so his hopes for public opinion to swing his way look more grounded.

I will be away on Friday so no new chapter; the next chapter will be up on Monday 1st July

Aeolian Chariot (New)

Aeolian Chariot

The private box that Lady Nikos had shared with the Wong family had, unfortunately, been wrecked in the initial grimm attack on the Amity Colosseum; Team JAMM had been rather more fortunate than the box itself in getting their charges out of there in time.

But, with the box gone, it meant that they had been forced to retreat onto the promenade, where they waited now in the shadow of Medea's airship, the Aeolian Chariot.

It was not a great airship, no skyliner or warship to be sure. No one — certainly no Mistralian aristocrat these days, save perhaps for the Steward himself — could afford to keep and crew and maintain such an airship privately for their own use; even Jason's Argo, which he had left behind in Mistral and which was large enough to carry up to fifty people within — he rented it out to cover its costs and supplement his income — could not compare with a true skyliner, or still less with one of General Ironwood's mighty cruisers. The Aeolian Chariot was even smaller than that, about the size of a Skybus, but with much greater range on it and, when it had to be, much faster too. Professor Lionheart had given them permission to fly it here from Mistral, rather than joining the rest of the Haven students aboard their skyliner, because Medea had wanted to bring it with her rather than leaving it back home in Colchis for a year.

And because it had seemed a marvellous adventure, the four of them crossing continents and oceans in a small airship, with limited dust and limited supplies, crossing empty skies and passing over lands that had frustrated the ambitions of generations of Mistralian colonisers.

The Aeolian Chariot was also much better looking than one of these Valish Skybuses that was comparable in size; it was built in the Mistralian fashion, with curved lines and faux-wood that resembled the hull of a ship, at least on the lower half of the vessel. The upper half of the hull was also curved, smooth and sweeping, but it was made of glass and metal, with metallic hoops forming a frame to which the great curved windows were attached, giving broad views up and out from within and — when on the docking platform thus — making it easy to see inside.

That was why the cabin — to conserve space, they had all shared a single cabin on the way over, as they had at Haven and indeed as they had at Beacon too — was down below, in the part of the hull that was concealed from outer view, along with the engine room and the stores. The visible top deck had the pilot's seat and all necessary controls, the dining table and chairs fastened to the deck, and a fair degree of open space for whatever one might wish.

The only parts of the upper deck that were not transparent were the doors, which were metal, albeit painted in a vivid gold.

Two great canvas wings were fastened to the sides of the ship, presently drooped down towards the docking platform on which the whole airship rested. The propeller, a traditional feature of Mistralian airship design, stuck out the stern, but also affixed to the sides of the lower hull were some rather more modern airship engines of the same sort used by Atlesian Skyrays and such, which gave the Chariot vertical take-off capability, as well as a healthier turn of speed than many Mistralian airships possessed. A long prow, fashioned to look like the necks of a pair of dragons, intertwining around one another, mouths open and teeth bared, emerged from out of the front of the ship, giving it the appearance of greater length even if it is not practically larger.

Lady Soojin Wong stared at it with wide-eyed amazement. "It's incredible!" she gasped. She looked up at Medea. "Is it really yours?"

Medea, fleece and hood thrown back to reveal her blue hair and soft features, smiled. "Yes, it is indeed," she said, raising one hand to brush her fingertips over the wood panelling of the lower hull. "It was a birthday present from my father."

Lady Soojin gasped, and she turned around to look at her father, Ambassador Lord Wong.

"Maybe when you're older," the ambassador replied. "Much older. On which birthday did you receive this great gift, Lady Medea?"

"My seventeenth, my lord," Medea answered.

"An indulgent gift," Lady Nikos observed from where she sat. Atalanta and Meleager had gotten a couple of crates out of the chariot for makeshift seats; Lady Nikos sat upon one of them, her legs stretched out in front of her, holding a cup of herbal tea that Medea had prepared.

Lady Wong, the ambassador's wife, sat beside her on another box, while Lord Wong stood not far away, hands thrust into the pockets of his waistcoat, his eyes upon his daughter.

Atalanta's eyes also fell sometimes on the girl, although she most often kept her gaze turned outwards, to the skies beyond, in case any more flying grimm should return this way. But she sometimes glanced backwards towards their charges, and to Lady Soojin especially.

Jason had sent Meleager to patrol the promenade, in case anything should approach from the other sides of the arena — the Amity Colosseum was very large and very round, after all — so he was out of sight at the moment. Jason himself stood guard upon their charges, standing closely beside Lady Nikos and Lady Wong, and not too far away from Lord Wong either — Lady Soojin was the farthest from him, but she was right next to Medea, so he was not concerned.

His hand was on the hilt of his sword, Pia Fidelis, or at least lingered close even when his fingertips, or the leather strips that bound his hand, were not actually touching the weapon itself.

The charge that Lady Pyrrha had laid upon them might have been thought to be a light one, now that all the grimm had been defeated in and around the arena itself, now that they had been driven from Beacon by that great unknown blast that had erupted from the school sometime earlier. Now that the battle had moved on and was now raging somewhere out beyond the bounds of Vale, it might be thought that there was little for Team JAMM to do except lament that they were not part of it.

There was an extent to which Jason did lament; he didn't know exactly how the battle was going out there, but no doubt, those who had gone forth — Pyrrha, Arslan Altan, his cousins on Team APAA, young Cicero Ward and many others — were doing great deeds and winning great glory in the field against the grimm, while they would gain no reputation by this night whatsoever. Furthermore, those who were winning great glory were also running great risk; he might have fewer cousins by the time this night was out, or fewer friends. There was a part of him which lamented that he could not share both risk and glory with them. What would they think of him, and of Team JAMM, when this night was over? Would they not think less of them because they had not fought in the battle before Vale?

And yet, set against all of that was the fact that this remained a weighty charge, a charge laid upon them by the Vytal Champion herself, to protect her mother — the head of the House of Nikos — and the Mistralian ambassador to Vale. That was not a request that could be lightly refused, nor easily abandoned. Not to mention the very pragmatic reasons for agreeing to such a request and for sticking with it: Lady Nikos and Lord Wong would remember, one hoped, the team who had kept them guard and company on this night. To have the gratitude, perhaps even the friendship, of Lady Nikos would be no bad thing, and Lord Wong would not be the ambassador to Vale forever; at some point, he would return to Mistral, and he, too, would be a useful friend to have.

And to be frank, Jason could do with powerful friends.

Medea turned her lovely smile upon Lady Nikos. "Yes, indeed, my lady, at that time, he was a very fond and — as you say — indulgent father. He loved me well and gave me every luxury and comfort that my heart desired."

Nobody commented upon Medea's use of the past tense; whether it was politeness that drove their reticence, disinterest, or the fact that they already knew the reason for the cooling of relations between father and daughter — because he was standing next to them with a hand hovering by his sword — Jason could not have said and didn't really want to know.

It was bad enough that Lord Colchis had rejected him as a match for his daughter without having to stand by and listen to other people talk about it.

Having Lady Nikos glance in his direction was bad enough.

Lady Nikos took a sip of her cup of herbal tea. "If I may presume to speak, Lady Medea, as a mother of a daughter, you may do your father wrong to say that he no longer loves you, though his manner may give you little consolation to be loved by him; and yet, in time, that love though buried now beneath the snows of wintry disapproval, will melt them and bring about a springtime of relations between the two of you."

Medea blinked her lilac eyes. "I thank you for that pretty expression of your good wishes, my lady, though I am surprised to hear you on the verge of preaching daughterly disobedience."

"As am I," Lady Wong murmured, a slight smile playing across her face.

"Have we great ones of Mistral not endured by cutting our cloth to fit our circumstances these many years past?" asked Lady Nikos. "Have we not endured by bending our ideals and wills and all that we would have to what is and is possible and practical? Have we not bent ourselves to the times and endured by reaching accommodation with the world as it is rather than raging that the world is not as we might have it so? I have learnt that a daughter's settled heart may fortify her will more securely than any city in Mistral, and if others wish to profit from my example instead of learning that same lesson through their own hard experience, I will not begrudge them."

Jason wondered — he could not help but wonder — if Lady Nikos' objections to Jaune Arc had been solely rooted in his outward characteristics: Valish, of no family of any note, of no great wealth as far as anyone could tell, of no extraordinary martial qualities either. Or had she objected to the boy himself as well, his nature? His nature did not seem very objectionable, but then, Jason didn't know him.

Medea's father objected to Jason's outward characteristics — his father imprisoned, his inheritance unlikely — but also to his character. He thought Jason changeable, unlikely to be faithful to his daughter.

That struck Jason as rather harsh, but also as the kind of attitude that was far more likely to survive even prolonged resistance from Medea than mere concerns about his wealth or lack thereof.

Medea bowed her head. "I dearly hope that you are right, my lady, and thank you for offering me such cause for hope."

"For myself, I am glad that Soojin is too young to understand what is being discussed," muttered Lord Wong.

Medea bowed her head. "Forgive me, my lord, I should not have raised the matter."

Lord Wong drew a hand out of his pocket to wave it dismissively. "It's nothing. As I said, Soojin is too young; I doubt she has even been paying attention."

Indeed, Lady Soojin's attention had returned to the Aeolian Chariot. "Can you fly this?"

"Indeed I can," Medea said, crouching down to get more on young Lady Soojin's level. "I have flown this vessel from Colchis in every direction, passing over forest and pasture and the wine-dark sea. I flew from Colchis to Mistral to begin my first year at Haven, and my teammates and I flew from Haven aboard this ship all the way to Beacon, enduring many adventures along the way, to be here for the Vytal Festival."

"'Adventures'?" Lady Soojin half gasped, half cried.

"Exactly!" Medea declared. "Like the time when we—"

A roar split the sky. It was an immense roar that could only have come — that sounded as though it could only have come — from a creature of immense size. A creature of immense size and in close proximity to them.

It went on a long time, too long; the roar of any grimm would have been bad enough, but this roar went on and on and on before it finally stopped like a trumpeter trying to draw out the note.

It wasn't a roar that he recognised. Professor Artemis had played them various grimm calls in first semester, so that they could recognise what they were dealing with, but Jason didn't recognise that long, loud, deep-throated roar that had just split the sky and for too long drowned out all other sounds.

The fact that the grimm were back — by the sound of it — was bad enough, but the fact that they couldn't tell what sort of grimm it was made the whole thing even worse.

"What was that?" Lady Soojin asked. "Is it monsters?"

Medea's voice was quiet, but Jason respected that she didn't sound frightened as she said, "Go back to your mother, little one." She gently nudged Lady Soojin in that direction.

Lady Soojin ran to Lady Wong, who got down off the box she'd been sitting on and swept her daughter up in her arms, wrapping both arms around her.

Lady Nikos rose, slowly but steadily, to her feet; Lord Wong looked left and right uneasily.

Medea also got to her feet, pulling fleece and hood up so that her face was half hidden from view, only her chin and painted lips readily visible, everything else cast in the shadow of her lavender shawl and the golden ram's head that she wore like a helmet over it.

"Atalanta," Medea said. "Do you see anything?"

"No," Atalanta replied, without looking back. "It must be coming from the other—"

"Jason!" Meleager shouted, his feet pounding on the promenade as he came running into view towards them. "Atalanta." He skidded to a stop upon the metallic tiles on which they stood. "You need to come and see this, right now, all of you."

The fact that it was his oldest friend asking this would have been reason enough to go, but the fact that Meleager sounded rattled — literally rattled; his voice was shaking like dice in a cup — was an even greater reason. Jason bowed slightly to Lord Wong and Lady Nikos. "If you will excuse us, my lady, my lord."

"Go," Lady Nikos commanded. "You will protect us as well there as here, no doubt."

The four of them ran, with Meleager leading the way — initially, at least; Atalanta swiftly outplaced him, her hair flying out behind her as her long, loping strides with her well-toned, defined, and muscular legs ate up the promenade. Jason was not quite able to catch up with Meleager, who held a comfortable second place; there wasn't much between the two boys in terms of speed, but Meleager had started off ahead. Medea, the least athletic of the four of them by some distance, brought up the rear; Jason looked back to see that she wasn't falling too far behind and was greeted to the sight of her robes flying — or flailing — around her in all directions in an ungainly fashion as she flapped her arms like a bird trying to take flight.

Atalanta might not have stolen the lead from Meleager if they had needed him to lead the way, but the promenade only went in a circle; sooner or later, by following its circumference, they would come to the point; there were few enough people here now even after everyone had been evacuated up here from Beacon; most of them had retreated inside the into the interior of the Colosseum, but those that remained looked anxious, fearful even; some were drifting in the same direction as Team JAMM, but at less speed, while others were moving rather more rapidly in the opposite direction.

That the source of that roar might be behind it didn't seem like much of a leap of imagination.

Atalanta came to a stop at one of the docking pads more or less on the other side of the Colosseum from where they had left Lady Nikos and the Wong family. Another girl was there already, a girl their age, with a gun, a lever rifle in one hand, maybe a huntress who hadn't wanted to join the fighting down below. Probably a Shade student; there were enough of them scattered around the place.

Atalanta led the rest of Team JAMM to stand beside her at the edge of the docking pad, looking out into the darkness towards Beacon Tower, and beyond.

"Well Ah'll be a long horn steer," muttered the presumable Shade student. "Will you look at that?"

Indeed, they looked at that. They all looked at that.

What they were looking at was a dragon, like the ones whose intertwined and snarling heads graced the prow of the Aeolian Chariot, except it was a grimm dragon, and its snarling face was covered by a bone mask covered in red markings, and its eyes were a burning blazing red that lit up the dark like smouldering stars, and its body was all black so that, without the spurs of bone that ran along its body, neck and tail, it might have blended in with the night sky.

But its wings would not, for its wings were as red as the markings on its face, almost as red as its eyes, as red as drying blood.

It was huge. The only thing that you could say about it to diminish its size was that it wasn't as big as the Amity Colosseum, but that was small comfort considering it didn't need to be that big in order to rip the arena to pieces, or simply fly straight through it using its armoured head as a ram until there was a hole from one side of the arena to the other. Though it wasn't as large as the arena, it was quite big enough, big enough to maybe swallow the Argo whole, at least vertically, as big as an Atlesian warship, almost as big as one of the large Mistralian battleships that had been sold to the Valish, so big that it would cast a terrifying shadow on the world below.

And it was coming this way, flying over the road towards Beacon as though it were up from Vale visiting on a trip or out for a fly like Medea on her airship. Something was … it was hard to make out, black blending into black, things merging with the night behind them, but it looked almost as though there was something dripping from the enormous grimm.

"Atlanta," Jason said, appealing to the night vision of a bear faunus. "Is that grimm—?"

"Dripping? Sweating? Leaking? Yes," Atalanta said. "I can't tell what it is, but something's coming out of it."

"You sure paint a pretty picture," muttered the assumed Shade student.

The dragon turned as it crossed over the boundaries onto the grounds of Beacon; it banked to the right — their right, its left — coming towards them. No, not coming towards them and Amity; it was headed towards the CCT Tower where the emerald lights burned.

The dragon flew around the tower, roaring as it circled the tall spire; roaring, but also moaning too, sounding as though it wasn't happy about something.

There wasn't time to even begin to consider what it might be unhappy about before the dragon opened its mouth and, as well as a roar, unleashed a jet of something, something bright yellow, as bright as the sun, something powerful enough to blast the tower into pieces.

Parts of the tower disappeared in a flash of light that made Jason shield his eyes with his hands, his teammates doing likewise. Another part of the tower simply exploded, the blast rippling upwards from the point of impact as stone and steel were flown across Beacon in all directions. Some of them were just fragments, bits of debris with burn marks on them from where the destruction had just missed them; others were larger parts, whole chunks of wall or roof or interior clinging together, shedding their own little fragments of wreckage as they travelled and fell while they travelled. Some of them were flung so far that Jason thought for a moment that they might hit the Amity Arena. They didn't, but only just, falling short to slam into the docking pads below, while other debris landed on top of school buildings or cracked courtyard stone, or simply slamming into the ground hard enough to make a crater.

"Gods of the night and moon and sun preserve us," Medea whispered.

The remains of Beacon tower stuck up above the ground like a half-burned candle, ragged at the top, or like the trunk of a tree where all the branches have been cut away. The dragon settled there, flapping its wings once or twice, raising its head up on its long neck and roaring up towards the same moon Medea had just beseeched to aid them.

"Is it nesting there?" asked Jason.

"I don't know," Meleager replied. "But we should attack it now while it's stationary."

"'Attack it'?" Jason repeated, aghast. "The four of us? Against a grimm that size?"

"Are we huntsmen or caretakers to old women and little girls?" Meleager demanded. "Would our ancestors have shrunk from such a challenge as this, such a foe as this?"

"Hot blood spills quickly," Jason replied. "Master Chiron taught us that. What do you want to do, charge up the ruins of the tower to get at it?"

"We must do something," Atalanta declared. "We cannot simply allow it to attack the Colosseum; it will kill everyone here, including the children!"

"And I would rather die with a fire in my heart than cowering in fear," declared Meleager.

"I said nothing of cowering," Jason snapped. "But I would rather be wise and brave than simply valiant. Medea, what's our plan?"

Perhaps it should have been his job to come up with such, as team leader, but he had learned long ago that Medea's plans were much better than his own. He sometimes wondered if she should have been chosen as leader instead of him; but then, what would the team have been called?

Medea was silent for a moment. She made as if to fold her arms across her chest, although she didn't actually do it, and let her hands — hidden beneath her long and flowing robes — fall to her sides, or at least, he thought she did.

"I don't know how we can kill it, or if we can," she admitted, making Jason's heart sink for a moment because if Medea couldn't think of anything then what chance did the rest of them have?

Were they doomed, then? Did all their hopes rest upon the dragon not turning its burning gaze upon the Amity Colosseum?

What chance of that?

"But," Medea went on, "I think I know how we can protect the Arena. Atalanta, do you think that beast can have its attention captured with your semblance?"

"I don't see why not, though it may drain my aura," Atalanta replied. "But large or not, it's still a grimm."

"Then I will fly you out on the Aeolian Chariot," Medea declared. "Jason, Meleager, you stay here and protect Lady Nikos and the Wongs; Atalanta and I will draw the grimm away from Amity — over Vale and out to sea."

"What then?" asked Atalanta.

"Ask the gods, I've no idea," Medea confessed. "But at least we shall have saved everyone here, and who knows? Perhaps Callisto will bless your deadly shaft and guide it to the creature's weak spot."

Atalanta snorted. "One can only hope. Alright then, I'm game, though hope is all we have."

"You two can't do this alone," Jason said. "We're coming with you."

Medea snapped around so sharply to stare up at him that Jason feared for a moment that she might stumble and fall clean off the edge of the docking platform. Her robes swirled around her as she turned and cried, "What? No!"

"Yes," Jason declared in a voice as implacable as the fabled wandering rocks that would smash ships that plied the sea route between Argus and Solitas. "You may be our wisdom, but I am still the leader of this team, and I say that we go together."

"To what end?" demanded Medea. "I need to fly the Chariot, Atalanta's semblance is vital, but what will you do, die alongside us?"

"If need be," Meleager said. "Better that than to have waved you off on such an endeavour. Chiron may have preached a touch of caution, but he would never want us to abandon our—"

"Team," Atalanta finished before he could.

Meleager's mouth downturned ever so slightly, for ever so slight a while.

Medea pushed back hood and fleece to reveal once more her face, and her blue eyes so wide and so beseeching. She reached for Jason, her soft, pale hands emerging from her flowing robes to touch upon his arms. Her fingers felt lithe and gentle upon his biceps, for all that she squeezed his arm, her fingers on his left arm travelling upwards to push against the golden honour band he wore.

"You are cruel," she said, "to make me thus the instrument of your death. Or has some god put this notion into your mind to cause me aching in my spirit? I would not have this; I would not have you die thanks to my plan."

Atalanta coughed into one hand.

"Bad enough that the best I can devise puts Atalanta in such way of harm," Medea went on.

"Thank you," Atalanta muttered.

"But you also, against such a grimm, and to so little purpose?" Medea asked.

"My purpose would be to be by your side," Jason declared. He took Medea's arms in turn, finding them beneath her robes. They were such slight things, so thin that he could put his hands around them, and he did so, holding her not tightly — he hoped — but securely, masterfully. He pulled her in closer, bending down to plant a kiss upon her forehead. "I will not leave you, not at such a time as this, not to such a danger. For you are mine, as I am yours, and you are the cruel one, to ask me to do otherwise." He smiled down at her. "But I will forgive you, if you relent now and speak of this no more."

Medea continued to look up at him. "You call me the wisdom of this team," she murmured. "Yet when you speak so, all wisdom flies from out my ears, and I am—"

The dragon roared again, and seemed to roar even more loudly than it had when it settled upon the ruins of the tower. The dragon roared, and this time, its roar was answered by the cawing and the crying and the shrieking of nevermores and griffons as they began to return to the skies around Beacon.

"Thank you for that," Atalanta murmured to the dragon. "That was becoming unbearable."

As Jason, his face flushing, released her, Medea hid her reddening face beneath hood and golden fleece alike. "You can be a rather mean person sometimes," Medea observed.

"And you can be cloyingly sentimental," Atalanta responded. "Let's get a move on."

Jason cleared his throat. "That might be for the best," he agreed. "Come, let us go."

Once again, they ran around the promenade like Juturna running around the walls of Mistral in days of old; they ran back the way that they had come, back towards the Aeolian Chariot. Once again, Atalanta took the lead, though this time, it was Jason who was marginally in front of Meleager, with only Atalanta running ahead of him. Once again, Medea brought up the rear, struggling somewhat to keep up with the others.

Jason looked over his shoulder to see Medea's robes flapping as she ran. He slowed his pace, letting Meleager overtake him and Atalanta far outstrip him, as he dropped back to where Medea was.

"Go on," she urged. "I'm not so far behind; I can manage."

"I know," he said. "But we are in haste, after all." And he swept her up in his arms, robes falling down off her like curtains falling from a rail to drape across the window, as Jason pushed himself to recover some of the lost ground between Meleager and himself.

Medea had let out a little gasp of surprise at the initial moment of being picked up, but she said nothing more as he bore her on. Certainly, she did not demand to be put down, which Jason was inclined to see as a good thing.

They must take their pleasures where they could in situations such as this.

He did put her down a little before they came in sight of their charges — their erstwhile charges now, perhaps, although they would be keeping their word as best they could in the situation — to allow her to make her arrival with a little dignity in front of Lady Soojin and the rest.

What little of her face was visible looked pleased rather than at all embarrassed, which Jason was definitely inclined to take as a good thing.

"What is that roaring?" demanded Lady Nikos as they approached.

"Are we in danger?" added Lady Wong.

"Not for long, my lady, if we have anything to say about it," Atalanta replied.

"There is a grimm," Jason informed them. "One of great size. It has just destroyed Beacon Tower."

"'Destroyed'?" Lord Wong repeated. "'Destroyed Beacon Tower'? But that means … the CCT network will be down; how are we to contact Mistral?"

"How is Mistral to contact its farthest reaches?" asked Lady Nikos quietly.

"Questions for wiser men than I, my lord," Jason said. "But as far as the grimm is concerned, Medea has come up with a plan to lure it away from the Arena and you all."

Medea produced her scroll from out of the folds of her robes and used it — that still worked even if the CCT network was down — to open the door to the Aeolian Chariot. The painted door slid open, and a ladder descended down the side to almost touch the docking pad surface.

"Atalanta, you go last," Jason said as Medea began to scramble up the ladder. He didn't trust Medea not to shut the door as soon as Atalanta was aboard and take off, leaving Meleager and he behind.

Atalanta didn't reply, but she didn't try and get up the ladder either. Instead, it was Meleager who went second, while Jason made towards the ladder to follow him.

"I presume you mean to use Miss Calydon's semblance to hold the grimm's attention," Lady Nikos said.

Jason looked at her. "Yes, my lady, that is it precisely."

Lady Nikos nodded. "A sound plan to keep us safe. I hope that you will be similarly inspired when you must think about what comes next."

Applejack barely spared them a glance — in pretty much the same way as they'd barely spared her a glance — as they left, heading back the way they'd come to try out that plan of theirs.

She knew who they were, Team JAMM of Haven, the first round opponents of Rainbow Dash and her team.

She knew what semblance they were talkin' about too, the one that had almost been the undoin' of Team RSPT before Penny had unlocked her own semblance to counter it.

That was what they were plannin' to use on that there big ol' grimm. Applejack wished them luck with that. It might work, at least as far as gettin' that grimm away from Amity was concerned.

Didn't mean she couldn't also think that they'd been awful dramatic about it though. Made Rarity look restrained.

Actually, that wasn't fair. Rarity was restrained when it came to what was important; she only got all up on her faintin' couch over nothin' at all, that was what made it kind of annoyin' sometimes.

Kind of charmin', too, mind, in a way it might not have been if she'd been all, well, like those Mistralians that had just run off. Carryin' on like that with a grimm that size in sight.

Took all sorts to make a world, she guessed.

Still, for all that, Applejack wished them luck. From where she stood, lookin' out across the sky at where that grimm the size of an airship was sitting on top of the tower it had just wrecked like it weren't no thing, it was hard to think of any way they could stop it if it decided to wreck Amity the exact same way.

Applejack's hands tightened around the stock of One in a Thousand. She stared out at the grimm because that was all she could do right now.

Twilight had gone down into the depths of the Colosseum to try and get it movin', just like the General had asked her to, and while she hadn't gotten this flyin' stadium to work yet, she would. Applejack had faith in her.

But it wasn't somethin' that Applejack could help her with.

She was startin' to wish she'd gone down to fight with the others, like Rarity. She was supposed to be backin' up Shining Armour, but there hadn't been much call for it up 'til now, and now that there was, it wasn't somethin' she could do anythin' about.

She was just here, watchin' this grimm sittin' on top of the tower like it was layin' a nest, worryin' about what it might do next.

Worryin', and relyin' on a bunch of Mistralians with no sense of timin' to get it away.

Relyin' on Twilight, too, which didn't feel quite so bad.

Applejack thought she maybe ought to be gettin' back; she'd gone to check out what huge roarin' sound had been, and she was meant to come back and tell everybody what it was, better or worse.

If she went back now, it would definitely feel like worse.

She'd stick around and hope that Team JAMM pulled off their stunt and she had some good news to bring back to the others.

As she stood there, watchin' the grimm, listenin' to it roar, hearin' other grimm answer it because things weren't bad enough already, Applejack saw an airship, a Bullhead, headin' up from Vale towards the Amity Arena.

Applejack frowned as she pushed her hat back on her head and wondered who in tarnation would want to come up here at a time like this.

As the stolen Bullhead climbed through the sky, all Gilda could think was how nuts this was.

Not just because of the plan, although the plan was awful in so many ways, both practically and … morally, too, even while it was the best plan that Gilda had been able to come up with at very short notice.

Having completely lost any idea of where Blake and Rainbow might be — except a vague and generic 'somewhere on the battlefield' and Gilda wasn't about to venture out there for the White Fang or the God of Animals — her plan was to make them come to her by…

By taking Atlesian Councillor Cadance hostage and using her to draw Dash and Blake to them.

It wasn't the same as Cinder holding Fluttershy under Mountain Glenn; when you stood for Council, you had to expect that you would be in the firing line, literally and metaphorically, and this particular Councillor had already been targeted once.

That didn't really make Gilda feel better.

Nor did the fact, indisputably true though it was, that if she hadn't come up with something, then Ilia and the peanut gallery in the back would have come up with something worse.

How could it be worse? It would probably involve more murders. At least Gilda could ensure that they didn't kill anyone. Not even the Atlesian Councillor, who they would deliver to Sienna Khan to use as a bargaining chip to improve the lot of the faunus.

But nobody else needed to get hurt, not any of Dashie's other friends, certainly not Lady Belladonna.

If Gilda hadn't been here, that wouldn't have been guaranteed.

It was hardly guaranteed with her here.

This was not a good plan. It wasn't … when you joined the White Fang, you accepted that liberation wasn't going to come easily, and it wasn't going to be squeaky clean. Gilda had heard better educated faunus than her talk about how, in the bad old days, the faunus slaves used to help themselves out by poisoning their masters and their families, which didn't sound cool, but what could you do when you were a slave and living in constant terror of what your owner might decide to do to you instead?

What could you do when you had no power, because someone else kept all the power to themselves?

Fight back, sure, but … Fluttershy was no one's master or owner. Councillor Cadenza kind of was — that was what made her a legit target — but…

Doing it this way, doing it here, doing it now, it was almost like bombing her car or her office; you didn't know who was going to get hurt in the process, even with the best intentions.

Still fewer than would be hurt if she stepped back and let Ilia have her way.

Gilda glanced at the other girl, who sat in the co-pilot's seat beside her. She was staring intently forward, eyes fixed on Amity. She didn't even seem to really notice the giant grimm perched on top of the CCT tower it had just destroyed.

Gilda's plan was morally awful; not indefensible, but all kinds of rough, but practically, it was awful because they were doing this at a time when the world had gone absolutely insane! Vale versus Atlas! Mad generals! Grimm cultists! Grimm attacks! Gigantic grimm that shot laser beams out of their mouths! If this was a TV show, you'd be straight on the forums complaining that the writers were throwing too many twists at the wall in a desperate bid for ratings! That Blake and Dashie show they were making — seriously, Rainbow Dash was getting a TV show, Rainbow Dash — was probably going to turn out more grounded than this.

Only, this was Gilda's life, and she had to live in it! So did everyone else, including all the ordinary faunus stuck in Vale right now who were left rooting for the Atlesians who stood between them and the grimm outside.

And Gilda had thought the world had been out of whack when they'd been working with Cinder.

She hadn't known how much sense everything had made back then.

While the fact that the Atlesian forces were so distracted was obviously a big advantage, it didn't seem like it outweighed the fact that there was a huge grimm, the biggest grimm that Gilda had ever seen or heard of by a long, long way, just sitting right there on top of the tower that it had just destroyed — it had just destroyed the CCT; the CCT network was down, how mad was that? — preening itself, and all the while looking as though it could swallow this Bullhead whole whenever it chose.

Her hands itched to turn around and fly back to Vale while she still could.

"Keep going," Ilia said, as though she could read Gilda's thoughts.

Gilda looked at her, stared at her, then gestured with one hand out the window. "You can see the giant grimm out there, right? I'm not just imagining that?"

"It doesn't matter," insisted Ilia.

"'Doesn't matter'?" Gilda repeated incredulously. "'It doesn't' … it's huge! It could kill us!"

"It doesn't matter!" Ilia yelled, louder now. "We're the White Fang, and we're willing to give our lives for the cause; we have to be!" She took a deep breath. Her voice was a little quieter when she spoke again but had lost none of its fire. "If we perish, by Atlesian guns or even by grimm fangs in the pursuit of justice, then we will be honoured as martyrs of the struggle." Again, she paused for a moment. "I was there, when your girl Strongheart brought Adam's heart to Menagerie, to present it to the High Leader as a relic, to be held alongside the other relics of the struggle and its martyrs, going back to the days before the Revolution in Mistral. Have you ever seen the reliquary, where all the relics are held, Adam's heart along them?"

"No," Gilda said. "Like I told you, I've never been to Menagerie."

"Right, of course," Ilia muttered. "You should go. A follower of the God of Animals like you would appreciate a visit to the temple, where the sacred white hart presides and foretells the fortunes of men, armies, and kingdoms."

"I've been to see the black ram in Mistral," Gilda muttered. It had told her — or rather, the priests had told her that the ram was telling her — that she would serve a virtuous lady. Gilda had thought at first that was the High Leader. Later, she had wondered if it might be Blake. Now … now, she thought it must be the High Leader, although she might not have called her virtuous.

Committee, yes; passionate, for certain. Virtuous? Hmm, well…

"That's not the real thing," Ilia told her. "And Mistral doesn't have the Reliquary. People make pilgrimages there, as much as they do to the sacred hart, to ask for blessings on their endeavours and the strength to fulfil them, or to give thanks for those who were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of our people."

“You realise that if we get swallowed whole by that monster, we aren’t going to leave anything behind to become our relics, right?” Gilda asked.

“I think that we will be remembered for our sacrifice,” Ilia declared. “Whether we leave anything behind of our bodies or no, what we leave behind of our spirits will endure and inspire those who will come after.” She frowned. “You sent Adam’s heart to Menagerie; why do that if you don’t believe in heroes and the power of memory to move those left behind?”

“Adam was a hero,” Gilda said. Maybe not at the end, but for a while. “He deserved to be remembered, honoured.” Honoured for the best of what he was, not for what he became. “But this…” She trailed off. “Nobody will remember or honour that we got eaten by a grimm while engaging in some skullduggery for the High Leader. This isn’t heroic. It might be necessary, but it isn’t heroic. Nobody will tell any stories about the people who died taking out a couple of people who are…”

“Finish it,” Ilia said.

“It’s nothing,” muttered Gilda.

“Finish it anyway,” Ilia insisted.

“A couple of people who are just trying to do their best, okay?” Gilda snapped. “The High Leader might be right that they have to die, but let’s not kid ourselves that this is going to get into the hall of heroes.”

Ilia was silent for a moment. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “It is dirty work, too dirty for the people to accept, even if it is necessary. But because it’s necessary, it has to be done all the same. It’s…” She wrinkled her nose, as though she had a bad smell underneath it. “It’s an hour to play and the last man in. We have to do it now; we can’t stop and we can’t turn back; we have to run whatever risks are placed in front of us, even giant grimm like that one.”

Gilda frowned. “'An hour to play'? Play what?”

“Cricket, I think,” Ilia muttered. “It doesn’t matter; it’s just a stupid bit of Atlesian verse from…” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, shuffling from left to right, stretching against the restraints. She didn’t say anything else until she’d settled down again. “Play up, play up, and play the game.”

Except this isn’t a game, Gilda thought. I wish it were a game, but it isn’t.

The stakes are too high for that.

Still, high stakes or not, Gilda continued to guide the airship in towards the Amity Colosseum, hoping that the grimm wouldn’t bestir itself before they landed.

She took a little comfort from the fact that if the black ram, whom some said was the sacred avatar of the God of Animals, was right, then she wasn’t going to die just yet.

She still had to find a virtuous lady.

Medea shrugged off robe and fleece alike, freeing up her hands for the airship controls, but also to fling her outer garments into the corner of what might be called the cockpit of the Aeolian Chariot.

Not an actual cockpit, of course — the Chariot wasn't compartmentalised on its upper deck — but it was the space around the controls, which amounted to the same thing.

Medea held out her hands, letting her sleeves fall down for a moment to expose her arms to view, before she sat down. The Aeolian Chariot was designed so that instead of being set at the very extreme front of the airship, her chair was set back from it a little, with a semi-circular control panel arranged around it, with enough room in front that if a thoughtless Jason wished to, he might walk in front of the pilot to get a view out in front of them and in the process block hers.

He wasn't doing that now.

"Restrain yourselves, dear hearts," Medea called out to the others as she settled down in her chair.

There was a column — one might have called it a mast if it led anywhere outside the airship — running up from the lower decks, through the floor, to the ceiling, coming up just beyond the dining table. Four black wires were attached to the stout shaft, coiling on the floor where they lay, with restraining harnesses attached to the end of each wire.

Medea glanced over her shoulder behind her, to see Jason, Meleager, and Atalanta clipping the harnesses around themselves.

All to the good. After all, Medea wasn't going to shut the airship doors — the upper decks might be transparent, but they wanted to make this as easy on the dragon as they possibly could — and they didn't want anyone to fall to their deaths, did they?

Atalanta strode to the edge of the airship, her black safety line trailing after her; she stood at the doorway, not looking down, at least as far as Medea could tell.

Medea's own eyes were drawn to look ever so slightly down, to where their charges — their erstwhile charges? No, they were their charges still; they protected them in this more than they could have by standing guard and waiting for the dragon to attack — stood, looking at the airship about to depart.

Young Lady Soojin looked back at her, through the glass.

Medea smiled, to conjure the hope in the little girl that was … well, there was something of an air of desperation about this endeavour, wasn't there?

And yet, I would not wish for better company in the whole world to share these desperate circumstances.

Perhaps they were not the best team in Haven Academy. Perhaps Jason was not the best leader — although he was the most handsome; Medea would fight anyone who dared suggest otherwise, and he was brave, and faithful too. Perhaps Medea was not the best strategist that any team could have been endowed with. But she was theirs, and they were hers, and she would not change them or aught about them.

She had not wanted the boys here, but at the same time, she would not deny to herself that there was a part of herself that was glad of it.

That they were all together.

Medea flexed her soft, small hands as she laid them on the stick.

Thessaly of the all-smothering night, if you will wrap your raven cloak around us and deliver us safe from harm through all this, then I shall restore your temple in Iolcus. This, I vow to you.

A weighty promise, considering the expense and the fact that Medea was in no position to do anything in Iolcus, nor would she be until Jason's father regained his lost position, but considering the circumstances, a weighty promise had seemed required.

And she had never broken her word to the gods yet.

Medea took one hand off the stick, the long shaft that rose out of the floor to steer the airship once it was airborne, and began to tap the controls, her lithe fingers flying along the buttons and switches. She heard the dust engine down below in the lower decks begin to hum and thrum, making the whole airship vibrate. That was good; it would have been a terrible time to have to go below and try and work out what was wrong with the engine — Medea didn't like doing that at the best of times; she accepted the sad necessity of such grubby-handed maintenance, but she didn't enjoy it even when she had ample leisure to work.

But it was working. Everything seemed to be working, everything was green, nothing was showing any problems at all.

The only problem was the grimm.

Medea gripped the steering column firmly but didn't move it as she flicked the switch that would turn on the VTOL thrusters mounted below. Slowly, steadily, the Aeolian Chariot began to rise off the docking pad, Lady Nikos and the rest seeming to drop away beneath them, becoming harder to see as they fell below the opaque lower part of the hull. Medea nudged the stick to the right somewhat, sending the airship drifting out off the docking platform and into the night sky.

The grey metal of the Amity Arena before her became replaced by a starry sky, and Vale somewhat far off below. Parts of the city were so dark that there were more lights in the sky than in the city, but there were enough lights on in other parts of Vale that Medea could locate the city clearly.

With sufficient distance between the Aeolian Chariot and the Amity Colosseum, Medea unfurled the wings of her airship, spreading them out on either side. They began to vibrate rapidly, like the wings of a hummingbird as it hovers by the flower and sucks out nectar with its beak.

"Atalanta," Medea called out. "Are you ready?"

Atalanta reached into her pouch and pulled out a large marble; she held it gripped between the forefinger and thumb of her left hand, as with her right hand, she gripped a handle beside the doorway. "Ready!" she shouted.

Jason and Meleager stood on the other side of the doorway. The Aeolian Chariot did not have any mounted weapons, but it did carry a store of heavy spears, like harpoons or the bolts of a ballista, and the two boys each held one gripped tight in their hands.

The dragon seemed very large to be hurt by such weapons, but perhaps the gods would favour them.

Medea brushed a loose strand of hair back into place and took a breath.

"Alright," she murmured. "Let's race."

Medea was nudged back into her chair as she urged the Chariot forwards. The world shifted around her, as though she were the fixed point and all else on the move; stars swooped overhead, visible through the glass, Amity Arena spun around her as Medea turned, circling the airship around it.

Flying was about so much more than simply getting from one place to another. It was thrilling in and of itself, the closest that anyone not born a bird faunus would get to having wings. This feeling, this feeling of making the world move around you, making the skies and the land below wheel and dance, it must be how the birds felt.

And the feeling as she rounded the Amity Arena to behold the dragon might be how the pigeon felt when it came face to face with a hungry hawk.

The dragons on the prow of the Aeolian Chariot snarled at the grimm dragon as Medea guided her airship towards the ruined CCT Tower and the beast that sat atop its stump. She did not turn away, not yet. Soon, but not yet.

"Remember," Atalanta said. "Once I activate my semblance, you must avert your eyes."

"We remember," Jason told her.

Atalanta couldn't control who was affected by her semblance. It would restrict Medea's ability to look back.

"Then I will rely on you to tell me what the dragon is doing," Medea called to her. "Tell me if it's going to fire that beam that destroyed the tower."

"I'll try my best," Atalanta assured her.

"No doubt," Medea murmured. "No doubt at all."

The dragon didn't seem to notice them. Medea couldn't turn away until it did; there was no point flying off and leaving the beast here; that would defeat the object — although it did occur to Medea that the dragon might be pretending not to notice them in order to lure them closer.

She was still moving slowly, cautiously; she didn't want to rush too close, even as her fingers were ready to squeeze the lever to accelerate as hard as it would go. She began to turn — gently, ever so gently — away from the dragon, presenting the side of her airship to it, where Atalanta stood.

Come, come, what could be more interesting than we?

What could catch your eye when we do not?

Should I have Jason throw a spear at you and see if that gets your notice?

There was no need; out the transparent side of the airship, Medea could see the dragon finally descend its head and catch sight of the Aeolian Chariot and its occupants below. It tilted its head a little to one side. Its eyes so red seemed to smoulder more intently than before as it looked down upon them.

"Now, Atalanta!" Medea shouted as she yanked hard on the stick to turn the airship away from the grimm and towards Vale.

She saw reflections of a gleam of gold in the glass that surrounded her, but thankfully, Atalanta's semblance did not work through reflections. So long as she did not look back and catch a direct sight of the golden marble shining in Atalanta's grasp, then she would be alright.

She could not look back.

Even if the dragon's roar booming out from behind them made her sorely wish to.

Medea squeezed the accelerator for all it was worth, squeezing it until her knuckles were white as the Aeolian Chariot shot forward; Beacon rushed away beneath them as though it was terrified by the dragon and put to flight; Medea swerved, jerking the Chariot to one side — Jason and Meleager squawked in alarm, and there was a sound of thumping and thudding behind her — to avoid a Bullhead heading the other way, towards Beacon.

Who would come in that direction at a time like this? Can't they see there's a dragon?

She had little time to wonder on the madness of the Valish — although tonight had shown that there was much madness in this city; the brain fever of their general seemed only a fraction of it — as the airship bore them away from the school and past the cliffs and on, on towards the city of Vale.

Medea wondered if she might have done better to have gone a different way, led the dragon somewhere else away from the city. But it was a little late for the gods to put such notions into her mind now; she would have to slow down to make the turn, and she did not want to slow down.

"It's following!" Atalanta called to her.

"Marvellous," Medea muttered. "Absolutely wonderful."

She couldn't look back, but she had a few sensors on her control panel, and they confirmed what Atalanta was saying — that there was something very large on their tail.

It wasn't getting closer, but it wasn't getting further away either.

"I told you not to look!" Atalanta shouted at someone, Jason or Meleager or both of them.

Medea couldn't look back to see which of them it was, if not both, but she did know that Atalanta shouting at them wasn't likely to help.

But it was an understandable impulse.

Medea was being pushed back against her chair as the airship sped through the sky, galloping over Vale now, devouring the lights of the city that passed out of sight beneath the dragon prow.

"It's going to fire!" Atalanta shouted.

"Hold on!" Medea yelled back at her as she threw the stick forwards, descending and jerking to the left as a beam of yellow shot through the sky overhead. Medea could see it through the glass ceiling, so bright that it would have been like staring at the sun to look directly at it.

The dragon was above them now, and that meant that Medea could look up and see it without being dumbstruck by Atalanta's semblance; she could see — just — the dragon descending upon them, talons outstretched.

The dragon swooped down — dropped down, almost, out from on high — with a speed even greater than it had used to pursue them. Its wings were raised above it as it fell, roaring, like a stone to crush them beneath its weight.

Medea was thrown to one side, her aura bruising as it hit the arm of her chair as she swerved away, the Aeolian Chariot twirling in the sky like an ice dancer along the frigid frozen surface, tracing circles around the dragon's dropping claws before Medea shot forward once again to put more distance between the dragon and herself.

She was going the wrong way for the sea; she had gotten turned around and was headed back towards Beacon, no, she was heading for the walls of Vale. That might be … no, there was fighting out there, their friends, Admetus and Hylas and Scarlet the Sour and those sweet fools Alcestis and Pisithia; and Pyrrha, of course. No, it would be inexcusable to lead the dragon back in their direction. She would have to turn, once she could open up a little distance.

Medea climbed; as the dragon had dropped so swiftly, she had some hope that it might rise more slowly, and that ascent might prove a boon to her in consequence.

She had lost sight of it once more — she could only truly see it once it was above them — but her sensors told it was somewhere … somewhere below.

"Speak to me, Atalanta, keen-eyed huntress," Medea implored. "Sing to me like one of the muses on the mountainside."

There was a pause. "It's below … and behind," Atalanta replied. "And firing again!"

Medea jerked to the left, pulling the stick violently in that direction, throwing herself to hit the armrest for the second time and punch her aura once again — and in the same place too. Medea grunted in pain, but she was gratified to see the dragon's beam pass by, rising up into the sky, missing the Aeolian Chariot completely.

She was less gratified to hear Atalanta shout wordlessly in alarm.

"Atalanta?" Medea called out, wishing that she could risk looking around. "Atalanta!"

"She's fallen!" Meleager cried. "Gods, she's fallen!"

Now Medea looked back, because if Meleager had been freed from the stupor of Atalanta's semblance, then that must mean the marble was out of sight. It was out of sight, as she saw when she looked back; Atalanta was out of sight, the only trace of her the black safety line trailing outside the door, falling off into the sky beyond.

Medea's breath caught in her throat. Please let the line have held.

Would you like a new altar in Colchis too, Thessaly? And an inscription that tells all who come not only that I raised it but also why, that all may marvel at your benevolent protectiveness?

Meleager and Jason scrambled across the floor of the Chariot on hands and knees like little boys, grabbing the line with both hands and hauling on it to pull her up.

Beyond, visible through the glass at the airship's rear, the dragon. No, wait, it had stopped following. It was turning away. Why, how could it turn away, unless—?

Atalanta's hand appeared, gripping the lip of the Chariot's doorway. It was swiftly followed by the rest of Atalanta as she pulled herself up, helped by the two boys.

"I dropped the marble," she grunted, hanging her head a little as she crouched on all fours. "I dropped it when the harness caught me. The snap." She shook her head.

"Does that mean the dragon will be drawn to it on the ground in Vale?" asked Meleager.

"No, it means I stopped using my semblance," Atalanta replied, a touch of sharpness in her voice. She glanced at Medea. "Shall we try and get its attention again?"

Medea didn't reply. She levelled off the airship, then tilted it a little to the right, where the door was closed, so that she could look down without risking anybody falling out again. The dragon was circling Vale. It was roaring too — its cries reached her ears up here quite clearly and loudly through the open door — but it didn't seem to be attacking anything. It was circling over the rooftops but not diving down on them, still less unleashing its terrible breath.

But all the same, they had brought it to Vale. They had led it away from Amity, which was good, but over the city, which was … less ideal. They had no real right to say 'job done' and leave it at that, however tempting it might be.

Our great grandparents sought the destruction of this city, but we will be shamed if we turn our backs now.

Medea breathed in and out. "Yes," she murmured. "I think we must."

She began to turn the Aeolian Chariot — slowly, but steadily — preparatory to a descent back down on the dragon. She would descend, and then she would rise up once more, and at the rising, if the gods continued to favour her, then they would gain the dragon's attention once again and could complete the plan to—

Before Medea could complete the turn, so that the dragon was still below and the airship was still facing at least partly away from it, two Atlesian airships streaked by beneath, heading for the dragon. Medea, whose enthusiasm for flying extended to her own airship but not to any details about Atlesian technology, could not have said what kind of airships they were except that they weren't the big transport ones that they used; rather, these looked to be combat airships: they were already firing at the dragon with rotating cannons mounted somewhere underneath, and they both had enormous missiles mounted under their wings, missiles so large they seemed almost as big if not bigger than the fuselages of the airships that carried them.

Through the glass, Medea could see that the airships were already firing now, bullets erupting from underneath the fuselage to strike the dragon's neck and shoulder.

The dragon turned its head towards them, bellowing in anger.

The enormous rockets fired from beneath the airships' wings. Each airship only carried two — there was no physical room for any more — but all four of them streaked towards the dragon, flames as large as furnaces burning behind them.

The dragon kept on roaring, but it didn't try to move as the great missiles approached. It hovered in the air, wings beating, as the missiles came on and the two airships that had fired the missiles broke off, turning away in different directions.

Only then did the dragon move, starting forward in pursuit.

The missiles struck home, not quite all at once but in quick succession, each missile striking before the fireball of the last had died so that it grew exponentially outwards and outwards, consuming the dragon's immense body within them.

Die, Medea thought. Breathe your last and turn to ashes. Let the fires burn as hot as Aeolus' sun and consume you utterly.

The dragon erupted out of the flames, Medea could see the scorch marks on its plates of bone, and she could hear the frothing fury in its screams as it pursued one of the two Atlesian airships. They were not fast — in fact, it seemed positively sluggish — and the dragon quickly began to gain upon it.

The second airship came to the aid of the first; though it had turned and headed off in a different direction — perhaps to ensure that they could not both be pursued — it rounded on the grimm, spitting bullets with its cannon once more as it closed the distance as best it could.

The first airship — the one that had been the focus of pursuit — dropped out of sight as the dragon turned its attention on the second. Medea saw it descend towards Vale and thought that she might have seen the pilot eject, but it was difficult to say for sure in this lack of light.

What she did see was the second airship breaking off again, turning its back for the second time upon the dragon.

But it was not fast either.

The dragon caught up with it and caught the Atlesian airship in its tail, crushing its rear beneath the chimerical three claws that waited there as though the tail belonged to some other beast grafted onto the dragon by some god. The dragon held onto the Atlesian airship for a moment before flinging it upwards through the air.

Towards the Aeolian Chariot.

Medea's eyes widened as she started to accelerate. The Atlesian airship was moving too quickly, and Medea could only partially move her airship out of the way before the Atlesians struck.

There was an almighty crash that flung Medea out of her chair and slammed her head up onto the ceiling with a flare of her aura, before dumping her back down on her back on the floor. The stern of the Aeolian Chariot was completely sheared away, shards of glass flying everywhere.

The airship started to spin as it plummeted towards Vale.

Jason, Meleager, and Atalanta were hanging on by their safety lines, clinging to the wires, pulling themselves up by them as they hung half out of the ruined rear half of the Chariot. For herself, Medea had wrapped her hands around the pole of her chair, clinging to it as her airship fell.

If she could pull herself up, if she could reach the controls…

If she let go of her hold.

The world whirled around them, and through the glass, she could see the streets of Vale rushing to meet them.

Everything went black. Medea heard glass breaking all around her, felt the shards hitting her like arrows, slicing into her aura.

She felt her aura breaking.

Everything went black.

Everything was dark. Medea opened her eyes, but the world was still dark; the moonlight was too ill to see anything brightly.

Her head hurt. Everything hurt.

"J—" Medea tried to speak, tried to call out to Jason, but when she opened her mouth, only a hoarse, quiet sound, barely audible, emerged. She tried to swallow; her mouth was so dry, her tongue was parched. She tried to swallow, but even that was difficult. She tried and tried and tried again before she managed it.

"Jason?" she croaked. "Atalanta? Meleager?"

There was no response. Not even a mewling moan of pain.

No, Medea thought, her eyes welling up with tears. No, no, no, no, they cannot—

Someone coughed, a long and spluttering cough, as though there was a lot that had to be expelled from the lungs.

"Medea?" Atalanta called softly, sounding as though she was in pain.

"Yes," Medea grunted, trying to twist her body around. It was too painful; she groaned in pain and stopped trying to move.

Her hands were bloody, and her fingers … her fingers didn't look entirely in the right place, or at the right angle.

No wonder they hurt so much. No wonder she had tears in her eyes from the pain.

Something flopped down onto the ground in front of her, something black and liquid falling from the sky like rain.

If rain fell in puddles.

The black puddle lay in front of her for a second or two, sprawling across the … concrete. It looked like concrete; was she on a road? Turning her head, Medea could see half the hull of the Aeolian Chariot, the lower decks, lying on their side, half in a building of some kind that it had smashed through. She had been thrown out, if only a little, and she lay on the ground surrounded by shards of glass. The head of one of the snarling dragons of the prow lay on the road beside her, severed from the rest of the airship.

And the black puddle lay in front of her, sprawled across tarmac and broken glass. And then it began to shrink, the puddle contracting as something began to rise out of it: a juvenile beowolf, of the lean and two-legged Valish breed, its body all black, no bone to be seen except the mask on its face.

The beowolf looked down on her and bared its teeth.

Medea was not the greatest huntress in Haven, or even on Team JAMM, but with her aura up, she would not have feared a single beowolf so young.

But her aura was broken.

A low growl rose from the beowolf's throat.

Its growling was answered by a louder sound, by the roaring of an engine racing towards them.

The beowolf turned around as a black blade sliced off its head.

Soteria, the black sword Soteria sliced off the beowolf's head as a chimera motorcycle skidded to a halt in front of Medea. Upon the motorcycle rode Weiss Schnee, all shining white — and the bearer of the black sword, Sunset Shimmer.

"See if you can reach Professor Goodwitch, tell her we need an ambulance," Sunset said, as she and Weiss leapt off the motorcycle. "And tell her … tell her there are grimm inside the city."

Author's Note

This chapter should really have been called Helian Chariot, except I keep forgetting that it was Helios who sends a chariot pulled by dragons for Medea to escape on at the end of Euripides' Medea. For some reason I keep thinking its Aeolus, despite the fact that I got the connection to Helios right in Medea's surname.

Team JAMM are very minor characters, but they're amongst my favourite of the very minor characters and so it was nice to give them a spotlight chapter.

I tend to be very blunt and unsubtle when it comes to the allusions (I know writers who are subtle with the allusions and they're all cowards) but that has its advantages when it comes to coming up with the relationship dynamics between the four: Meleager is into Atalanta, but she is far less into him; Medea is the strategist of the team because Medea basically carries Jason and the Argonauts on her back during the second half of the story; Jason can't stop himself from checking out Atalanta's long legs because Jason was ultimately unfaithful.

This story isn't going to end with Medea murdering their children, but it's fun for a mythology fan like me to put little grace notes in there.

Virtuous Lady (New)

Virtuous Lady

As she set the Bullhead down on one of the docking pads, Gilda got up out of her seat and walked into the main section of the airship.

“I’m going to locate the Councillor,” she said. “You lot wait here, and once I’ve found her location, I’ll be back for the rest of you.”

A collection of unimpressed and hard-eyed gazes, sullen verging upon hostile, greeted her pronouncement. There was a time when that would have worried Gilda, but right now, she was — she felt, at least — past worrying. She didn’t care what they thought; she didn’t care whether they liked her leadership or not, she didn’t care whether they went squealing to the High Leader about what a terrible leader she was. She didn’t care. She didn’t care if someone else was made leader of the Vale Chapter and she was ordered to Menagerie to clean the toilets at headquarters. She was done with … she was done pretending that she had any respect for them. She would make use of their muscle, when the moment was right, but until then, they could wait in the car like good children, and they might get some ice cream when she was done.

Because she was done.

They didn’t like being ordered to wait? Too bad. They’d do it regardless.

Or they’d kill her, but that might also be better than having to play nice.

Gilda had rescued them from captivity; the least they could show was a little gratitude and appreciation for that.

She’d rescued them, because they’d been given to her to command, and so it stuck in her craw to just ditch them to face the music, even if that was what they deserved, but that didn’t mean that they deserved anything more than that from her.

Yuma folded his arms across his chest. The visible parts of his arms had bruises on them from the injuries he’d taken, even if his aura had come back in the meantime. “We did not come here to sit and wait in an airship, Sister Gilda—”

“I am not your sister,” Gilda said sharply. “Cut that out.”

Yuma ignored her, continuing in his soft, sibilant, serpentine voice that rubbed on Gilda like sandpaper, “We should search together, or better yet, spread out to search the arena more swiftly.”

“No,” Gilda said flatly.

“'No'?” Trifa repeated. “Why not?”

“Because you lot are about as subtle as a bag of hammers, that’s why,” Gilda declared. “And I don’t want the arena stained with blood. I will find this Atlesian Councillor—”

“Cadenza,” Ilia murmured. “Her name is Cadenza.”

“Fine, thank you, Councillor Cadenza,” Gilda said. “I will find Councillor Cadenza, then I will come back and lead you — discreetly — to her location where we will snatch her and get out without any more fuss or bother and without picking any fights along the way.”

Woundwort’s face — which looked even more gnarly now than it had done before, thanks to Rainbow’s friends — twisted in distaste. “It would send more of a message to the traitors if we were take one or two of those Atlas b—”

“No,” Ilia said quickly, before even Gilda could do so. “No that … that’s barbaric, and it’s not who we are.”

Gilda’s eyebrows rose a little. She wouldn’t have expected Ilia to have a limit like that.

“Are we not the vanguard of the struggle, Sister Ilia?” Yuma asked in a voice that was deceptively soft. “The tip of a spear that will thrust into the belly of a world and system that is set against us.”

“Of course we are,” Ilia replied. “But not … not like that. I will kill anyone who stands in our way, I will show no mercy to our oppressors, but that? We’re talking about children.”

“Human children,” Yuma replied.

Ilia … did Ilia shudder? Did Gilda see her shudder? Or did she imagine it because she wanted to see it? Wanted to think that one of this group might be a little more on her side than the others.

“We’re soldiers, not animals,” Ilia declared. “We do what we must for the sake of our people, not for our own pleasure.”

“And that’s why you’re staying here,” Gilda said. “You’ll sit tight and wait until you’re called.”

“Avoiding attention makes sense,” Ilia allowed. “But I should go with you, or you should stay and I should go; I’m the stealth specialist, I’m the infiltrator—”

“You—” Gilda began, about to tell Ilia that she was also too highly strung and too willing to wish death on other people to be trusted … but she had backed Gilda up just now, and Gilda supposed that she had earned back a little bit of grace by that. “You are going to be in charge while I’m gone; I need you to look after things until I get back.”

“'Look after things'?” Savannah repeated. “We aren’t children.”

Gilda didn’t respond to that except to say. “Stay here; I won’t be long.”

Savannah pushed past Rill and strode towards Gilda. Her hands, at the end of her long arms, clenched and unclenched into fists. With her one golden eye, she glared at Gilda, bearing down on her until the two of them were almost touching noses, like she wanted to go in for a kiss.

Savannah huffed into Gilda’s face before she said, “And what if we don’t?”

Gilda didn’t reply for a second. Her own hands clenched and unclenched, just like Savannah’s had. She waited, conscious of the way that everyone’s eyes were on her, even Ilia’s.

Savannah had asked the question that had been on all their minds.

Time to see who's faster, I guess.

Gilda lashed out with one foot. As close as they were — her mistake — and with the ceiling of the Bullhead hemming her in, Savannah couldn’t do much about it as Gilda cut her legs out from under her. She flailed with her long arms, but Gilda grabbed one arm by the wrist with one hand as she grabbed Savannah by the back of the neck with her other hand.

Gilda twisted in place, making the other members of the squad duck or press themselves against the wall of the airship as she slammed Savannah down face-first onto the airship floor.

Savannah hit the metal deck with a crunch.

Gilda grunted as she lifted Savannah’s head off the deck and slammed it down again.

And again.

Trifa reached for her knife.

“Touch that, and I’ll kill you!” Gilda snarled, baring her teeth. She slammed Savannah’s head down into the deck for the fourth time. Her aura didn’t break, but she wasn’t exactly doing much resisting at this point, and by the soft groan coming from her lips, Gilda thought that she had made her point.

She let Savannah go. The other warrior didn’t move; she just lay there on the deck where Gilda had left her, lying there and moaning.

Gilda got up, her eyes sweeping across the other members of the squad, even Ilia.

“You don’t have to like me,” she said. “You don’t have to agree with me, you don’t even have to respect me. But right now, you do as I say. Wait here; I’ll be back once I know where our target is. Until then, Ilia is in command.”

She ostentatiously turned her back on then, daring them to try anything if they still felt like it.

None of them did. The door on the side of the Bullhead swung upwards, exposing the Amity Arena to view.

It was quiet outside; there was nobody that Gilda could see, nobody to look inside the Bullhead and see a bunch of armed White Fang guys within, which was a stroke of luck. Everyone must have … they hadn’t left, because the news had said that people were being evacuated up to Amity Arena, not off of it, but they must have gone somewhere else, either into the stands, or maybe inside, where Gilda and the others had tried to ambush Blake.

Somewhere that might have felt a bit safer than the promenade, anyway.

Gilda leapt down out of the airship; only then did she look back and see Ilia closing the door behind her.

Gilda turned away once again, listening to the door close with a hum of the motor and a final soft thump of the metal moving into place.

She took a look around the empty promenade, wondering where she ought to start looking?

Well, if I’m right about where people have gone, then perhaps I should start in the stands.

Of course, an Atlesian Councillor would never sit down in the stands with the common people; she’d be up in one of the hoity-toity boxes with Jacques Schnee and the like.

Maybe not actual Jacques Schnee right now, but that kind of guy.

Unless the boxes were too much at risk, what with them being so high up.

A Councillor still wouldn’t want to share space with the plebs.

Still, if I check out the stands first, then I’ll be able to look up and see if any of the boxes are occupied.

That sounded like a plan, at least in the sense that it was something that, when viewed from the right distance, might pass for a plan, and so Gilda headed towards the nearest corridor that would lead into the stands or into the arena itself.

The corridor was dark; all the lights were off, although there was some light spilling out of the door to one of the maintenance corridors, which had been opened. Gilda would check that out next, once she was done here.

Once she passed through the dark corridor, climbing up the steps into the bleachers, Gilda soon realised that that ‘next’ might be a lot sooner than she might have expected because there was absolutely no one here, and for good reason too: the place was a battlefield. Not an ongoing battlefield, mind, but it was plain to see that a battle had been fought here, and it had really messed the place up. There was a gash in the arena ceiling like a wound, jagged and raw, and shards of debris — along with what looked like the remains of some kind of airship — had been scattered across the battlefield, with pieces of metal buried in the floor, sticking up like the ruins of old buildings that you found scattered across Vale, not Mountain Glenn but the real old ruins from days gone by and long forgotten.

There were claw marks on the floor too, digging right into the metal, evidence that the grimm had been here once, although they weren’t here anymore.

It wasn’t just the battlefield, either; Gilda climbed into the stands to find that a right mess had been made of them; some of the debris had landed there too, and the chairs had been torn up, ripped to pieces — and there were claw marks here also, and bullet holes.

A battle had been fought here, and even though there was no fighting going on here now, and no grimm either, Gilda could understand why it was completely deserted. She was the only person here, and why not? Who’d want to wait around for hours, maybe all night, maybe longer, amidst the detritus of a battlefield like this? Even in a functional space, there had to be somewhere more comfortable to wait around than amidst wreckage, shards of metal, claw marks, discarded rounds.

Somewhere like the boxes maybe? Not exactly. When Gilda looked up from the arena and the stands around her, she saw that some of the boxes had been destroyed, torn to pieces by … maybe by the same thing that had showered debris down on the arena, maybe by the grimm, but either way, some of the boxes were gone — or at least, what was left of them was littering the battlefield or the stands, and there were only holes where the boxes had been, entrances leading out into nowhere now.

There were some boxes still intact, but there didn’t look to be anyone inside.

Maybe she ought to fly up there and take a closer look, just to be sure.

But if they were there, then it would be hard to miss someone flying looking down on them, so—

“It’s Gilda, isn’t it?”

The voice came from behind her. A woman’s voice, older than Gilda herself by at least a few years; Gilda would put it at about the High Leader’s age, only it lacked entirely the High Leader’s hard edge. This voice was soft, gentle even, almost … motherly.

Nevertheless, for all its softness and its gentleness, for all its motherly quality, the sound of the voice behind her made Gilda freeze. It would have been bad enough that someone had managed to sneak up on her, but they knew who she was? Who knew who she was?

Rainbow Dash and Blake, obviously, which meant … nothing great for her.

Gilda froze. Her eyes were wide, even though they were fixed straight in front of her, looking out at the devastation of the battlefield below, unable to see who was speaking behind.

Her chest rose and fell. Her arms were rigid, hands frozen in place. She did not move an inch, not a single muscle.

“It is Gilda, isn’t it?” the voice repeated. “Gilda Swiftwing?”

She knows my surname, too?

Gilda folded up her wings behind her, so that she could turn her head in a halting, juddering motion and look over her shoulder.

The owner of the voice that called her name was … Lady Belladonna. Gilda recognised her from the news broadcast, the one that had told her — and her team — that she was here in the first place, the one that had set the cat amongst the pigeons when it came to those who wanted to kill her and send a message to her husband.

She looked just like she had in that brief shot on the news; she was even wearing the same clothes; Gilda guessed that she’d travelled light from Menagerie, without many changes.

It was definitely her. Gilda had never heard her voice before she had seen her face; you could hardly avoid it if you were a certain kind of faunus, the kind whose parents wanted to go to Menagerie and live out their golden years in paradise.

And she wasn’t alone. Fluttershy was there too, standing just behind Lady Belladonna — as in, a step behind, not as in actually hiding behind her, although…

Neither of them looked the way that Gilda would have expected them to look. They both looked curious, Lady Belladonna especially, even though … didn’t they know that Gilda had tried to kill Blake? And Rainbow Dash? Hadn’t they told them?

Had Dashie protected her?

How could they look at her like that, without anger, without hate?

Without fear?

Not a trace of fear from either of them. They were just looking at her like they were surprised, like they didn’t understand what she was doing here, but they weren’t afraid.

Gilda licked her lips, her tongue flicking out of her mouth as though she’d suddenly become a lizard faunus. Her mouth felt so dry it was as if all the water had drained out of her.

Perhaps it had. She could feel the sweat under her armpits and running down her back.

Her voice was hoarse. She tried to speak but had to stop and swallow before she started again; even then, she thought she sounded a little hoarse.

“My lady,” Gilda whispered. She had to lick her lips again, even though it didn’t feel like it was helping at all; it was just making her lips all sticky and covered in guck. All the same, she couldn’t stop herself, because at the same time, they felt so dry. “Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy waved with one hand, a gentle fluttering of her fingers. “Gilda.”

“So you are Gilda,” Lady Belladonna said. “Fluttershy said that she recognised you, and I … your parents showed me some pictures of you; you’ve grown up, but your wings are still the same colour.” She cocked her head to one side. “You used to have more hair, though.”

Gilda let out a sort of strangled laugh because seriously? Seriously? That was what Lady Belladonna wanted to talk about? Her hair? Yes, she’d had some kind of lush hair, at one point, but then, at one point, she’d wanted to be in a band, too.

One of her hands reflexively went to her head, running her fingers over her close-shaved hair or lack of the same.

“Yeah, I, um … I thought it would make me more aerodynamic,” Gilda murmured. “Also … I thought it would make me look mature.”

“Hmm,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “I can’t speak to the first, but that second one isn’t really working.” She paused. “Why don’t you turn around? Aren’t you getting a crick in your neck standing like that?”

Gilda turned around, obedient to Lady Belladonna’s command — or to her sensible suggestion, anyway. It was easier to face the two of them.

Easier in some ways, anyway. She was still sweating. She would start to smell if this kept up.

“How did you know I was here?” Gilda asked quietly.

“We ran into you by chance,” Lady Belladonna said. “Or perhaps I should say that you walked past us by chance.”

“I’d just gone to see if anyone wanted anything to eat or drink,” Fluttershy murmured. “But it seemed that what Lady Belladonna—”

“Kali, dear, please.”

“What Lady Kali Belladonna really wanted was to come out and talk with some other people,” Fluttershy said.

“Not that I don’t enjoy the company of … my companions,” Lady Belladonna said. “But I wanted to see how other people were doing, while we waited for news. We came out and saw you going down the corridor, having just passed the door that we were using, coming this way.”

“I see,” Gilda murmured. “So it was pure luck, then?”

“Luck, or the will of fate,” Lady Belladonna replied. “Or perhaps it was the will of the gods. Do you believe in the gods, Gilda Swiftwing? Your parents say that they always watch the parade of the Sacred Hart through the streets, every year.”

Gilda gave a faint nod of her head, a little juddering of her chin. “I believe, my lady.”

“Then perhaps the God of Animals meant for this to happen, for us to meet like this?” Lady Belladonna suggested. The corner of her lip twitched upwards in an almost mischievous manner. “I’m afraid if you came here looking for Blake or Rainbow Dash, they’re not here. But I suspect you knew that already.”

Now they were come to it. “I … I thought as much, my lady,” Gilda murmured.

“So you came back here … why?” Lady Belladonna asked. “To kidnap me? To kidnap Fluttershy again?”

“No,” Gilda said at once. “No, I … this has nothing to do with you, Fluttershy.”

“Then it is me?” asked Lady Belladonna. “Or you came here to kill me, or … someone else.”

“You…” Gilda swallowed again. “You’re taking this very well, my lady, I have to admit.”

Lady Belladonna didn’t reply for a moment. “If you were to draw those swords on your back and kill me now, would the blades be to blame?”

“No, my lady,” Gilda replied. “It would be my hand.”

“Just so,” Lady Belladonna said. “I take it Sienna put you up to this?”

Gilda hesitated, silent.

“You may as well speak,” Lady Belladonna said. “It costs Sienna nothing for me to hear from your lips what I have guessed already.”

Gilda glanced down at the floor, unable to meet either of their gazes. “It was the High Leader who gave the command, yes.”

“That you were to kill my daughter, and Rainbow Dash,” Lady Belladonna murmured.

Gilda closed her eyes. “Yes, my lady.”

“Why?” asked Fluttershy, her voice a mere whisper, yet one that, in the quiet arena, nonetheless sounded as loud as thunder breaking.

“Because…” Gilda trailed off. “Because they seem … because they have been … because they were too successful, in Atlas, in what they did with the Schnee Dust Company. The High Leader feared—”

“Of course she did,” Lady Belladonna interrupted. A bitter laugh passed from her lips. “Of course she did. Vain Sienna, proud Sienna, Sienna who could not bear to have any of her scholarship questioned in another professor’s book and so wrote a scathing review rubbishing every single conclusion they had drawn and making them out to be the most incompetent hack that ever lived. Sienna who couldn’t stand not to be the leading voice in her field, she had to cut down everyone who might compete with her, suggesting that they were wrong, they were mistaken, they’d used sloppy scholarship and unreliable methods to draw their conclusions. Of course it’s not enough for the lot of our people to improve; it has to be by her hand, her methods; she has to be the hero, has to be the one leading the parade, or else is it even worth the faunus being free?” She shook her head. “Oh, Sienna, I see that the mantle of leadership has not made you any less yourself.” She glanced at Gilda. “I promised Blake I wouldn’t hurt her, in retaliation for what you tried to do. Blake was worried that I would get myself killed in the pursuit of revenge. Or perhaps I’ll get myself killed here and now.”

“No,” Gilda said at once. “No, my lady, you have nothing to fear from me.” She looked at Fluttershy. “Neither of you have anything to fear from me.”

“Only Rainbow Dash and Blake do,” Fluttershy murmured.

Gilda hesitated. “Well … considering what happened to us the last time I was up here, you might say they haven’t got a lot to fear from me either.”

There was a pause, neither Lady Belladonna nor Fluttershy. Then Lady Belladonna threw back her head and let out a peal of joyous laughter.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she declared. “Yes, that’s very good. You have a lot to fear from Blake and Rainbow Dash, yes, that…” She wiped at her eye with one hand. “That’s excellent, thank you.”

Gilda raised one eyebrow. “Are you moontouched, my lady?” she asked. “Have you got some of that mass delirium that’s going around Vale?”

“Am I as mad as General Blackthorn is said to be? Well, I certainly hope not,” Lady Belladonna said. “But I am a mother, and every mother likes to hear their child praised to the skies, even if it is for being a fearsome adversary. And, well, you must admit that there is something a little ridiculous about admitting that you’re afraid of the two people that you…” She trailed off, and did Gilda the courtesy of not saying ‘the two people you were ordered to kill’ or anything like that.

Fluttershy took a step closer towards her, so that she was standing level with Lady Belladonna, not behind her. “Do you still want to kill them?”

“I never wanted to kill them,” Gilda replied.

“But you were going to,” Fluttershy said. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Gilda said, in a voice that was as soft or softer than Fluttershy’s own.

“Why?” Fluttershy asked. “Because you were told to?”

“Yes,” Gilda said again. “Because I was ordered to, because the High Leader … there isn’t any shame in admitting that you don’t know everything, is there? That other people — older people, more experienced people — might be wiser than you, know more, know better, is there?” She glanced between them.

“Rainbow Dash would say not,” Fluttershy admitted. “That’s why she follows General Ironwood, after all.”

“I thought,” Gilda began, “I thought that maybe, even though it didn’t seem right to me, maybe the High Leader was right, maybe they did … maybe it was better they were out of the way. And I was worried that if I didn’t do it, then the people that she would send to do it would be worse, more vicious, would care less about hurting … people like you. I thought that I could do it … cleanly, without hurting anyone else, without anyone getting in the way.”

“Only Blake and Rainbow Dash,” Lady Belladonna said.

“Blake carries a sword which is also a gun, my lady, and Rainbow Dash has a shotgun,” Gilda pointed out. “They’ve got no right to complain, nor does your friend Applejack when she came at us with a gun of her own.” She paused for a moment. “If you choose to live by the sword, then you should have the decency to be willing to die by it too.”

Silence fell in the arena, utter silence, no sound at all, not even wind; if the grimm outside were making any noise, it wasn’t carrying in here.

And neither Fluttershy nor Lady Belladonna spoke. They stood there as silent as Gilda herself, watching her. Judging her, Gilda couldn’t help but think.

It was Lady Belladonna who spoke first, who broke the silence. “What is it that you want, Gilda?” she asked. “Why did you come back here?”

“What do I want, my lady?” Gilda repeated. She took a step back, only to stumble over a piece of debris lodged in the stands. Gilda let out a wordless squawk, arms flailing, wings unfurling behind her, none of which served to stop her from falling backwards and landing with a thump on her tailbone. Her aura flared up and sent a jolt of pain up her to make sure she knew it.

Gilda didn’t get up. Somehow, sitting here with Lady Belladonna and Fluttershy looking down on her seemed pretty fitting, all things considered.

But she did swing her legs, sprawled across the jagged metal debris that she’d tripped over, around, so that they were resting on the battered floor of the stands, knees up. It was all that she could do not to put her hands around them.

“What I want,” she murmured. “What I’ve always wanted is to help my people.” She paused. “I know that you’ve been away a long time, my lady, and they tell me that Menagerie is a wonderful place, but I hope you haven’t forgotten how put down we are.”

“No,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “I remember. I understand that not enough has changed since Ghira and I took our leave.”

“I wanted to help,” Gilda said. “I want to help. I want things to get better, and I’m willing to do what it takes to make that happen.”

Lady Belladonna walked around the debris and sat down on the ground next to Gilda; Gilda was taller, but sat down, they were almost of a height, no distance between them.

“But you didn’t tell your parents that you were in the White Fang,” she murmured. “They think—”

“That I have a nice, respectable job here in Vale,” Gilda said. “I … I suppose it must sound like I’m ashamed.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Lady Belladonna admitted.

Gilda shook her head. “I … I didn’t want them thinking about me like that, as someone who … killed people. I didn’t want them to know about that side of me.”

“Where I come from, we call that being ashamed,” Lady Belladonna murmured.

Gilda didn’t dispute that. It was hard to argue with, really. “When did you meet my parents? Why?”

“After Rainbow Dash wrote to me, to tell me that Blake was a student at Beacon … and about to be a student at Atlas,” Lady Belladonna said, “she’d written a letter to her parents as well, asked me to deliver it—”

“And you did?”

Lady Belladonna smiled. “Some may call me Lady Belladonna, or the Chieftainess of Menagerie, but don’t mistake me for a Mistralian old blood; I’m not too proud to descend into the streets amongst my people. Especially not when I can learn more about the girl who just wrote to me out of the blue, claiming to know so much about my daughter and where she is and how she’s doing and what her plans are.” She paused for a moment. “Rainbow’s letter to her parents mentioned you; not that you were in the White Fang, but something that they passed on to your parents. We didn’t speak long, but they seemed like good people.”

“They are,” Gilda said in a gruff voice. “They are good people, they … my dad worked for Rainbow’s father, in his electronics store in Low Town. My mom was a maid in Atlas. Not one of those fancy live-in maids; she’d just turn up to middle class houses and do the dusting and the vacuuming.” Gilda paused for a moment. “She told me that the worst houses were the ones where the woman of the house would follow her around to make sure she was doing it 'to m’lady’s satisfaction,' pointing out everything that she hadn’t done. Made a one-hour job take three hours or more. But they both worked hard. They worked hard, and they deserved to get the chance to go to Menagerie, and … I’m told that, in Menagerie, everything just springs out of the ground, nobody has to work for anything.”

Lady Belladonna chuckled. “It’s not quite that much of a paradise,” she said. “But it is a very nice place to live. I imagine it might be even nicer for those like your parents — and Rainbow’s parents — with the chance to relax and take the load off. You know they’re still very good friends, from what I could tell.”

“I’m not surprised,” Gilda murmured. “I … I never wanted to be Rainbow’s enemy. I never wanted to be Blake’s enemy either; I … I always admired your daughter, my lady; she … she always had a lot of conviction.”

“Yes,” Lady Belladonna murmured. “She always had a great deal of conviction. I’d say she got it from her father, but the truth is that she might have outdone even him in that regard.”

“And it doesn’t bother you,” Gilda said, “that she wants to move to Atlas, to join Atlas, to become … it doesn’t bother you?”

“I must confess that I was surprised, at first,” Lady Belladonna admitted. “But Blake believes that she can do some good, and I must also admit that having met a few of her Atlas friends, they seem like very good people.” She hesitated. “Better, I must admit, than some of those she hung around with in the White Fang.”

“You weren’t a fan of Adam, my lady?”

“No,” Lady Belladonna said softly. “No, I can’t say I was.”

“He wasn’t a bad person,” Fluttershy murmured. “He just … made some bad choices.” To Gilda, she added, “I’m sorry, by the way. Rainbow told me that … I’m sorry.”

“'Sorry'?” Gilda repeated. “You’re sorry, after … after everything?”

Fluttershy nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he’s gone, and I’m sorry that things got to the point where … where he felt he had to do the things he did.”

“Yeah, well…” Gilda cleared her throat. “That’s very nice of you. I can’t promise you that Adam would appreciate it, but I do. Thank you.” She stared at her for a couple of seconds. “As someone who is from Atlas but isn’t a huntress or a soldier or anything like that, do you think it’s true that Atlas has the greatest military in the world?”

Fluttershy opened her mouth, but didn’t speak for a second. “I … I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t even know how to start judging that. Or know what to compare it to. It looks strong.”

“Do you think that they’ll protect Blake?” Gilda asked. “Do you think that they’ll protect Rainbow Dash?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said immediately. “I know they will.”

Gilda closed her eyes. “Good,” she said softly. “That’s good to know. That means that once all this is over, once they go back to Atlas — once Dashie goes to Atlas, once Blake goes to Atlas — then they’ll be safe. They’ll be protected. The High Leader’s anger won’t be able to touch them.”

“And that doesn’t upset you?” Lady Belladonna asked.

Gilda almost smiled, even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to smile. “No,” she said. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

Now, it was Fluttershy’s turn to approach; she walked around the other side of Gilda to where Lady Belladonna sat and knelt down beside her. “Because you don’t really want to hurt them, do you?”

“Honestly?” Gilda asked.

“Yes,” Fluttershy said. “We might as well be honest with one another, don’t you think?”

“Then honestly, I think that Rainbow’s right, what she said to me before we got taken off to prison,” Gilda said. “She’s done more for the faunus that I have recently, more than the whole White Fang has. If she and Blake can keep on making a difference, can keep on improving things, then … I’ve got no problem with that. That’s all I ever wanted. Maybe they can be the change we need, maybe they can’t, but I can’t say that they shouldn’t get the chance to try.

“I didn’t join the White Fang because I like the killing, or because I want to be remembered as a hero of the struggle. I joined because I wanted to make things better, because I wanted to help. Only maybe I was … even if I wasn’t doing more harm than good, I can’t say that there aren’t others who are helping more right now.”

“Then why did you come back here?” Fluttershy asked.

Gilda snorted. “Because this isn’t the sort of job where you can go back to the High Leader and apologise, but it was all just a bit too difficult. I have to get this done or … or die trying. And then if we do die trying, then she’ll send someone else, but that’ll be fine because like you just said, the power of Atlas will protect them.”

“More than just the power of Atlas,” Lady Belladonna murmured.

Gilda looked at her. “My lady?”

“I’m willing to bet that a lot of people who support the White Fang ordinarily feel the same way that you do,” Lady Belladonna said. “They want things to improve and aren’t particularly concerned by the how or who. How might those people react, do you think, if they found out that Sienna Khan was willing to kill two people who have made one of the biggest accomplishments in recent years just to salve her ego?”

Gilda blinked. “You would … would people believe you?”

“I think Sienna would be concerned by the mere possibility,” Lady Belladonna replied. “Enough to back off Blake and Rainbow Dash.”

Gilda let out a sigh of relief. “I hope you’re right, my lady. I really do hope that you’re right.” She shook her head. “When I wonder if we’ve been going about this all wrong for years, it all feels like such a waste.”

Lady Belladonna laughed. “'A waste'?” she repeated, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m sorry, but … to hear someone your age saying that, it does sound a little ridiculous, you must admit.”

“I didn’t think so,” Gilda said, quietly and only slightly sullenly. “I was being serious.”

“I think what Lady Belladonna’s trying to say is that it’s never too late to try and do things differently,” Fluttershy murmured, putting a hand on Gilda’s shoulder. “And in your case, you’ve hardly gotten started anyway.”

“Well,” Gilda muttered. “Are you worried about them? Dashie, and Blake? Are you worried about them in this battle that’s raging?”

“Yes,” Lady Belladonna admitted. “Very much so.”

“But…” Fluttershy trailed off. “I don’t know if Atlas has the greatest army in Remnant, but I do know that they’re not alone. They’re with Trixie and Starlight and Rarity and so many others, and they’ll all take care of one another, so … so we have to have faith that they can make it through together.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” Gilda murmured. She slowly climbed to her feet, rising like a tide. “When Adam was prepared to get on that train, I think he knew that he wasn’t going to come back. He told me to command the Vale Chapter; only now … I’m not at all sure that I want to.” She looked at Lady Belladonna. “I know that Blake and I weren’t close, but I wish her well on her new path.” She turned to Fluttershy. “I’m glad that I met you. And tell Dash that I’m sorry for everything I said back when.” To Lady Belladonna, she added, “I didn’t take her joining the Atlesian forces as well as you. I was kind of a pill about the whole thing.”

“Why don’t you tell her yourself?” Fluttershy asked. “I’m sure she’d like to hear it from you.”

“I’m not so sure about that, considering,” Gilda replied. “And besides, there’s an airship full of White Fang cutthroats sitting on a docking platform, and I’m going to take care of them.”

Lady Belladonna’s eyebrows rose. “How many are we talking about?”

“Six,” Gilda said.

“And only one of you?” Lady Belladonna asked. “That … doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“Like I said, my lady: live by the sword, die by the sword,” Gilda said. “Someone has to take care of those people, or … I fear that they haven’t been suffering the pangs of conscience the way I have. They’ll just keep hurting people; someone has to—”

“Someone,” Lady Belladonna said. “But not you, not alone. After all, isn’t that the reason why you couldn’t beat Blake? Because her Atlesian friends came to her aid? I think that’s how they do things in the north kingdom: with numerical superiority. There are worse secrets to success than that, don’t you think?”

Gilda frowned. “You’re saying—”

“That there are a lot of people who can help deal with a small White Fang problem,” Lady Belladonna said. “You don’t have to face them alone.”

“They’re my team,” Gilda said. “I freed them from the Valish because I couldn’t just throw them aside—”

“Then why did you leave them on that airship and come here alone?” asked Lady Belladonna.

“Why did you just say that they have to stopped?” Fluttershy asked.

“Because they do,” Gilda admitted. “The things that they say…” I mean, Woundwort hadn’t implied what he wanted to do to Fluttershy and the others before I freed him. “I don’t know whether it’s the White Fang that’s changed, or I’ve changed, or maybe neither of us have changed, and it’s just that I didn’t recognise the White Fang for what it really was, but … the thing that they belong to is not the thing that I belong to, or that I want to belong to. I don’t want to hurt people just because we can, or because they’re standing in our way. And they will hurt people; I … that much is clear to me now. They have to be stopped.”

“And they will,” Lady Belladonna said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to stop them.”

Gilda stared at her. “I tried to kill your daughter, and yet, you’re so concerned about my life.”

“I think Blake would be upset about your death,” Lady Belladonna said.

“And I know that Rainbow would,” Fluttershy added. “She’d much rather hear your apology in person.”

Gilda snorted. “I’ll bet she would.”

“And besides,” Lady Belladonna went on, “your parents are part of my people, on Menagerie, and that makes you one of my people also, in more ways than just as a faunus. I really don’t want to have to tell your parents that you died, or that you were really part of the White Fang and you’d been lying to them this whole time.” She smiled slyly. “I’d much rather bring you to see them on Menagerie, to tell them that part yourself. Don’t worry, parents are very forgiving as a rule.” She winked.

Gilda stared at her. What she had done, what she had tried to do, and yet … no anger? No rage? No revenge?

She was … she was…

Virtuous.

Gilda bowed her head. She did more than bow; she knelt down before her, amidst the debris and the battle scars.

“My lady,” she murmured. “I will be yours, if you will have me. I’m not sure what you’d do with me if you did have me, but—”

“Oh, I’m sure we can find some uses for a brave faunus,” Lady Belladonna said lightly. “More use than Sienna made of you, I hope, or better use, at least. More use than a dead girl, when so many have died already.”

Gilda’s eyes were wide as she looked into the eyes of Lady Belladonna. “You … you will not regret this, my lady.”

“No,” said Lady Belladonna. “No, I don’t think I will.” She picked herself up off the floor so that she was standing over Gilda once again. “Now, let’s see if we can’t take care of your ex-comrades safely, shall we?”

Benevolent Treason (New)

Benevolent Treason

They were mostly Shade students.

That puzzled Gilda a little bit; she'd have kind of expected that they would be down fighting outside of Beacon with Dashie and Blake and … almost everyone else, it seemed like. The students from Atlas had gone down to fight at Beacon, in Vale, or on the field outside of Vale, but the Shade students — a lot of Shade students, anyway — were still here.

Gilda supposed that, with people being evacuated up onto the Amity Colosseum, it was important to have someone to stay behind to guard them all from … from people like her and the White Fang.

After all, if they hadn't been here, then some people up here might have found themselves in some trouble.

What was maybe more surprising was that these Shade students had leapt to on the word of an Atlesian Councillor to take care of some White Fang.

Gilda hadn't known many Vacuans; they didn't tend to end up in the White Fang, because it was said that in the Kingdom of Vacuo everyone was equal — if only in the sense that everyone was dirt poor, or sand poor, and stuck in the same leaky lifeboat together trying to survive. Not much of a life, if you asked her; it was one reason why Gilda had never felt tempted to move there, no matter how equal it was.

Anyway, that meant that you didn't find a lot of Vacuan faunus in the White Fang, at least not ones who had stayed in Vacuo. There was a Vacuo chapter, and its old-school methods of self-help for struggling faunus, soup kitchens, gun clubs, and militia for faunus communities was maybe a better model than what the White Fang had become in Atlas, Vale, or Mistral. But that meant they didn't get a lot of transfers leaving the Vacuo Chapter for cooler climes, or outsiders headed the other way. The few Vacuan White Fangers Gilda had met had all been … kind of like Blake, honestly: intellectual, conscientious, with a lot of thoughts in their heads about injustice and power structures.

They had also, unlike Blake, all hated Atlas as much or even more than any Atlesian faunus.

Maybe that was because those faunus born in Atlas or Mantle could name at least something they liked about Atlas, if only something small and maybe stupid like the fries from Snowburger or — Gilda's choice — Marigold chocolate, with that sickly taste you didn’t get anywhere else. It was imperfect, to say the least, built on oppression and inequality, but it was still home to them, and even Adam had had a couple of fond memories.

For the Vacuans, not so much. They hated Atlas, and not just or even mostly because they were faunus, but because they were Vacuans, and the loathing was apparently pretty common even amongst Vacuans who weren't faunus. Atlas was the taker, the thief, the exploiter; Atlas was … everything that — sorry Dash, sorry Blake — Atlas really was, only without any fond memories of Atlas or Atlesians to soften things even a little bit.

Which made it a bit surprising that they were here, a bunch of Shade students moving in to surround the Bullhead where Gilda had left her…

Not her comrades any more. She had betrayed them. She had turned them in to Lady Belladonna and to the Atlesians.

For a good reason. For lots of good reasons, some of them — maybe even most of them — given to her by her former comrades themselves. They had been violent — not just violent but inclined to be indiscriminate about it, with lots of ideas for people that they'd like to hurt. What Woundwort had said … the fact that Ilia had spoken up against him didn't change the fact that no one else had, and on top of that, there was the enthusiasm they'd all shown for killing Lady Belladonna.

They were too dangerous to be allowed to do what they wanted. Left unchecked, they could hurt Lady Belladonna or Fluttershy or someone else.

Which meant Gilda shouldn't have let them out in the first place; she should have just let them rot in Valish custody.

Well, true, but you couldn't change the past because you knew better now.

Gilda had made the choices that she had, and some of those choices had been bad ones, God knew, but for better or for worse — and the more she thought about them, a lot of those choices seemed to have been for the worse — she’d made them.

She couldn’t go back.

She couldn’t save Adam, she couldn’t save any of the poor souls who had died under Mountain Glenn, she couldn’t stick Ilia back in her cell or the others back in Valish custody, she couldn’t take back the things she’d said to Dashie, she couldn’t change any of it. She couldn’t go back.

All she could do was hope to do better in future.

That was why she was where she was, watching the Bullhead where she’d left the others, her former comrades whom she shouldn’t have freed in the first place, but having freed them first, she could at least help capture them again second.

Like … it was a terrible thing to compare faunus to animals — it was the height of racism — but since none of them were dog faunus, Gilda felt that it was at least a bit un-racist to say that they were like wild and rabid dogs that needed to be chained up.

But hopefully not put down.

Gilda was not at the moment in the front rank of those surrounding the Bullhead, and a lot of that had to do with Lady Belladonna, who was glued to Gilda’s side and wouldn’t go back and so was making it really hard for Gilda to go forward as well.

As a result, because it would be a fine thing if the Lady of Menagerie and Blake’s mom got hurt because she wouldn’t leave Gilda’s side, Gilda was standing near the back right now. The only person who was further to the rear than Gilda was the Atlesian captain in his robot armour, his whole body completely covered by it.

It looked weird. Weird, but at the same time kind of cool. Mind, it also looked slow as anything, which would be less than cool.

Impressive to look at, though.

Anyway, he was standing behind Gilda, along with Dashie’s friend Applejack, the one with the cowboy hat and the lever rifle. In front of her were the Shade students, the Vacuans, whose presence Gilda was finding it hard to work out. What were they doing here? Why would they help out Atlas? Why would they do anything because an Atlesian councillor or officer had asked them to? Weren’t they supposed to hate each other?

Yet here they were, eight Shade students surrounding the Bullhead ahead of Gilda and the Atlesian captain — Shining Armour, his name was — with swords and spears and bows all at the ready.

But why?

“Lien for your thoughts, Gilda?” Lady Belladonna asked.

“I’ve got a few thoughts, my lady,” Gilda murmured. “But one of them is I’m trying to work out how your Atlas friends got a bunch of Shade students to listen to a word they say.”

Lady Belladonna smiled. “Are you trying to understand what magic words they conjured to appeal to a group of Vacuans?”

Gilda let out a sort of wry, slightly embarrassed laugh. “Sort of, my lady.”

“Would it surprise you to learn that there wasn’t one?” asked Lady Belladonna. “Shining Armor here offered to pay them double the going rate for a huntsman, isn’t that right, Captain?”

“Huntsmen are just mercenaries at the end of the day,” Shining Armor said, and Gilda was pretty sure there was a note of scorn in his voice as he said it. “They have no loyalty but lien; they may not like Atlas, but they’ll take our money all the same.”

Gilda looked over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you a huntsman?” she asked.

“I’m a soldier,” Shining Armor said, his voice echoing a little as it came out of his tin can.

Right. Right, the famous Atlesian Specialists. Were they all that scornful towards other huntsmen, or was it just him?

Was Blake that scornful towards all the other Beacon students?

Mind you, just because he sounded up himself didn’t mean that he was wrong; a lot of huntsmen were just mercenaries, and they would do whatever they were paid to do, no matter the justice or injustice of it.

Mind you, that wasn’t to say the Atlesian were always much better.

Should I just change my attitude towards them now?

No. Why should I? Just because I’ve realised that I wasn’t always doing the right thing doesn’t mean that they’re right or ever were. I’m not Blake. You’re not going to see me putting on one of those uniforms any time soon.

I don’t want to stain my swords with indiscriminate blood anymore, but I fought for what I thought was right, and I’m not going to apologise for that or take back what I believe in.

“I think you do the profession a disservice,” Lady Belladonna said softly. “But nevertheless, I think that we should be grateful that so many huntsmen are so mercenary in their motivations. If they weren’t, if these Shade students needed to be driven by principle rather than lien, we might be in a spot of trouble, mightn’t we?”

“Ah dare say we’d have made do, ma’am,” Applejack said quietly.

“You might not have been able to stand behind me in that case,” Gilda said, glancing Applejack’s way. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

“Should we trust you?” asked Shining Armor. “You’re ex-White Fang.”

“So’s Blake,” Gilda pointed out.

“Blake didn’t quit the White Fang all of five minutes ago,” Applejack pointed out. “And you ain’t got Rainbow Dash vouchin’ for ya. You was standin’ over me with a sword just this afternoon.”

“I vouch for her,” Lady Belladonna said, putting a hand on Gilda’s shoulder.

“Ah know, ma’am; that’s the reason I ain’t shot her yet,” Applejack replied bluntly. “Ah ain’t sure why you trust her, but … Ah’ll go along with it.”

Gilda turned her head away from the two Atlesians — the two Atlesians who could hardly be blamed for their attitude, all things considered — to Lady Belladonna. “She’s got a point, my lady.”

“Perhaps,” Lady Belladonna allowed. “But…” She glanced at the two Atlesians behind her. “Why don’t we say that ladies of my age are allowed to have their little foibles and leave it at that for now?”

Gilda nodded — half-bowed — her head. “Yes, my lady, if you like.” She paused for a moment. “I … my lady, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, dear,” Lady Belladonna said. “You can ask me anything you like.”

“Have I betrayed the people in that airship?” Gilda asked. “Have I … am I a traitor?”

“Yes,” Lady Belladonna said bluntly. “Is that even a question? Were you genuinely unsure of the answer?”

Gilda shuffled awkwardly in place, glancing down at her own feet and the deck of the Promenade beneath them. “Well … I was sort of hoping … that you would say something wise that would let me feel better about myself.”

“Oh, well if you want to feel good about yourself,” Lady Belladonna said, “you could start by looking at me.”

Gilda looked up. Her eyebrows were raised, and her mouth was half-opened in a wince.

Lady Belladonna, on the other hand, looked almost amused. “You are a traitor,” she said. “You are the definition of a traitor, you have betrayed your comrades—”

“Thank you, my lady,” Gilda muttered.

“Just as Blake betrayed her comrades and the organisation to which she had pledged her loyalty,” Lady Belladonna went on, all traces of amusement falling from her voice. “Just as she betrayed you.”

Gilda was silent for a moment, staring at Lady Belladonna. “You … your own daughter?”

“Yes,” Lady Belladonna said. “My own daughter is a traitor, just like you. And you can say things like ‘the White Fang betrayed me first’ or that it betrayed the cause for which it claimed to be fighting, but those are only justifications; they don’t fundamentally change the nature of the action.” She paused for a moment. “But that’s the point, isn’t it? You are a traitor: you have betrayed, you have committed treason, but that treason can be justified. There are more important things than loyalty — to a bad cause, to bad comrades, and to betray those things … that can be a benevolent treason.”

She smiled. “That is what Blake is, and what you are now: benevolent traitors, for whom loyalty came second to more important concerns.”

“I’m not sure how Blake would feel to hear herself called that,” Gilda said softly. She wasn’t sure how she felt to hear herself described like that, to be honest, although she understood what Lady Belladonna meant, and understood that she was trying to help. “Thank you.” Lady Belladonna hadn’t exactly entirely put her mind at ease, but she’d given Gilda something to think about.

She’d given Gilda a way of thinking about it that … well, it made Gilda feel a little better. Or would do, once she’d had time to properly take it in.

Some things were more important than loyalty, like what Woundwort had wanted to do to Dashie’s friends and how vile it was.

How this whole thing stank.

Some things were more important than being a good soldier who followed orders.

One of the Shade students turned away from the Bullhead and jogged towards them, passing Gilda and Lady Belladonna to approach the two Atlesians — or Shining Armor, at least — behind them. He was tall, with a tanned or dusky complexion — not as dark as some Atlesians could get, but not pale either — and dark brown hair, and a beard growing around his chin and mouth as far as his youth allowed, because he couldn’t be much more than a couple of years older than Gilda even if he was an upperclassman. His hair, and his beard as much as possible, were worn in ringlets. They were oiled and perfumed too; Gilda could smell lavender and … something else, something harder to make out, or at least something that she didn’t recognise. Pepper perhaps, and something stranger and unfamiliar to her nose. He wore a dark blue coat, with long billowing sleeves that draped off his arms, over a dark red, almost orange tunic trimmed with gold thread, and baggy green trousers. He had a bow slung across his back and a scimitar with a golden hilt worn on his hip, and in his hand, he carried a spear with a silver apple on the butt like a counterweight.

That spear rested on his shoulder as he walked towards Shining Armor and Applejack; he passed by Gilda and Lady Belladonna without acknowledgement, as though they didn’t exist.

Pretty disrespectful, really.

“Alright, paymaster,” he said, “how do you want to play this?”

Shining Armor spoke to Lady Belladonna, not to the Shade student. "I really wish you'd get back, ma'am."

"I think I'll be fine where I am," replied Lady Belladonna breezily, not moving at all.

Shining Armor didn't reply to that, because he finally spoke to the Shade student as he raised his rifle — in one hand — to aim it at the airship. "We'll give them a warning and a chance to come quietly; if they don't, we tear the ship apart with them inside."

The Shade student nodded. "Okay. Like I said, you're paying the bill, you call the tune. We'll act on your command." He paused. "I haven't seen anyone at the cockpit, but there is a chance that they already know we're out here."

"It doesn't matter if they know we're here or not; we haven't seen anyone leave the airship," Shining Armor replied. "And we've had the Bullhead surrounded, so they can't have left since we arrived. You did leave them all here, right?"

"I ordered them all to wait here until I got back," Gilda said.

That wasn't necessarily the same thing as them definitely all being here, but she hoped that it was, or that it would be. If any or all of them had gone, then … she couldn't say that it wasn't her fault, but she could say that if she'd taken them all with her, then things wouldn't have been going so well as they were now; it's not like any of them would have just stood there while she had a cosy chat with Lady Belladonna and Fluttershy.

And there hadn't been any sign of them anywhere else; if they had been loose in the Colosseum, then Gilda didn't think they would have been able to stay quiet and unnoticed.

If she was wrong about that … then it was just another decision that she couldn't change and that would have to be lived with and dealt with.

But with luck, they would all be here, right where she'd left them.

They'll probably think that I planned all of this. That I brought them here and told them to wait in the airship so that I could sell them out.

That doesn't make a ton of sense; why would I break them out just to get them caught again?

It doesn't make sense in the way that what I've done tonight doesn't make a ton of sense, so…

I guess the only question is, do I really care what they think?

No. No, I really don't.

"Okay then," the Shade student said. "Let me get back to my team, and then we're all ready to go."

He turned around and jogged lightly back the way that he'd come, to where his teammates waited on the one side of the Bullhead. Gilda could see one member of the other Shade team, some guy wearing a horned helmet, standing on the other side of the Bullhead, his other teammates out of sight behind the airship.

Shining Armor had his gun trained on the airship. He raised his voice, which still came out a little metallic as he shouted, "White Fang! This is Captain Shining Armor of the Atlesian military. We know you're in there. You have ten seconds to come out, lay down your weapons, and be taken into custody, or we will open fire."

There was no response. One second, two seconds, still nothing; three seconds, four seconds, the Bullhead was still and silent with no indication of anyone being in there at all. Five seconds, six seconds, seven seconds, Gilda wondered if there was anyone in there at all, if they had maybe all scarpered already, and she had completely misjudged their ability to keep quiet and not draw attention to themselves. Eight seconds, nine seconds, or maybe they were frantically discussing what to do.

Ten seconds.

Shining Armor fired, a pink beam streaking from the barrel of his big rifle to slam into the engine on their side of the Bullhead.

The engine exploded, the Shade students shielded their faces with their hands and cowered away from the explosion a little bit as the engine went up in flames and the airship tilted to one side, slamming down onto the docking platform with a groaning thud.

Flames flickered in the cockpit window as the engine continued to burn.

"That was your last warning!" Shining Armor shouted.

One second, two seconds, three seconds passed with no response, no movement from inside the airship.

"Team Cunaxa, move in," Shining Armor ordered.

The Shade team had gotten as far as taking a collective step forward when the door to the Bullhead opened.

It didn't open all the way, because the way that the airship had fallen when Shining Armor had destroyed the engine meant that it couldn't, the lower door was jammed and couldn't drop down properly, but the top door could still open, and the whole thing could open enough that her former White Fang comrades — the people that she had betrayed, although Lady Belladonna had called it a benevolent treason — could come out, even if some of them had to duck to do it.

Woundwort, Savannah, Ryl, and Trifa emerged with their hands up, trooping past the burning engine towards the waiting Shade students.

"That's close enough," said the one who had spoken to Shining Armor earlier as he pointed his apple-butt spear at them. "One at a time, and we'll get you restrained. You first, big fellow."

Woundwort walked forward. He didn't look at the Shade students as he moved; he didn't even look at Shining Armor or Applejack. He only looked at Gilda, his eye fixed on her.

All their eyes were fixed on her. Glaring at her with eyes that would have killed if they could.

"Xeno, put the cuffs on him," ordered the Shade student, who Gilda thought must be the leader of this Team Cunaxa going by the way that he was giving the orders.

Xeno, a horse faunus with hooves instead of feet, wearing a red travelling cloak that covered most of his chest and hid whatever he might be wearing underneath, stepped forward; his hooves clip-clopped on the floor of the promenade.

There was no sign of Ilia or Yuma, no sign of anyone else coming out of the airship.

"There should be two more," Gilda said.

"Eeyup," Applejack confirmed. "The one with the bat wings and the one with that darn lightning whip."

"Yuma and Ilia," Gilda said. She looked at Lady Belladonna. "Wait here, my lady."

Lady Belladonna hesitated, but nodded. "Alright," she said. She even took a step backwards.

Gilda, on the other hand, walked forwards. So did Applejack, trailing only a step behind her as Gilda strode towards her former comrades, the people that she had led up here twice now and gotten captured twice, once more intentionally than the other.

The Shade student Xeno had already put the cuffs on Woundwort, who was on his knees — even on his knees, he was still about as big as most people standing up — and Trifa was now coming forward, holding her hands out to be restrained.

As Gilda approached, her lips curled back into a sneer. "Traitor."

Gilda's face twitched, but she didn't argue it; Lady Belladonna had made it clear that there wasn't much point; it couldn't be argued with.

"Where are they?" she demanded.

Trifa spat in her face, a glob of white saliva slamming into Gilda's cheek.

Gilda didn't wipe it away. She let it stay there, a mark on her face, slowly trickling downwards. "Ilia and Yuma," she said. "Where are they?"

"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?" Trifa growled as Xeno put the restraints around her wrists. "What makes you think that I'll help a house faunus sc—"

Gilda growled wordlessly; one of her hands shot out and grabbed Trifa by the neck, picking her up off the ground so that her feet kicked the air as she squirmed in Gilda's grip.

She had already been restrained, her aura was negated; when Gilda squeezed her neck, she really felt it.

She made a choking, gasping sound as she pawed at Gilda's arm with both her cuffed hands.

"Gilda," Applejack said warningly. "Put her down."

"You know what I think?" Gilda asked. "I think if you were all that willing to die for the cause, you would have come out of the airship swinging. I think you might not want to talk to me, but you'll talk if I dangle you over the side of the docking platform, won't you?"

Applejack took a step forward and put one hand on Gilda's arm. It was already a strong grip, with hints that it could get stronger if required.

"Easy now," Applejack said, calmly, softly almost. "Put her down."

Gilda glanced at her. "Why?"

"Because we're the good guys," Applejack said. "Which means we have to act like it."

Gilda huffed. "That sounds like the sort of thing Dashie would say," she muttered. "Or Blake."

Applejack shrugged. "Blake would use fancier words, Ah think."

Gilda snorted. "Yeah," she agreed. "Yeah, she probably would."

She let Trifa go. The White Fang operative hit the floor with a thump, clutching at her neck with both hands as she gasped for breath.

There was red around her eyes as she stared up at Gilda.

"Why?" she demanded.

Gilda didn't bother to answer her. Unlike Blake, she didn't have the words to make her betrayal sound grand and noble, she didn't have the silver tongue to spin a tale of heroism, nobility and justice like something halfway out of a storybook. She could make her betrayal sound great and glorious because she could tell such a story around it that the actual betrayal kind of got lost in the shuffle. If Gilda tried that, if she tried to answer Trifa, she'd just end up saying that it didn't feel right anymore, and so she'd done what felt right instead.

But while that might have been true — it was true, and she felt better because of it, like a load taken off her shoulders — it didn't sound very good. It sounded selfish, even if it wasn't, and Gilda didn't know how to make it sound less.

So she just ignored the question, walking past Trifa and the others towards the Bullhead. With no sign of Yuma or Ilia, it was most likely that they had slipped out at some point between Gilda leaving — either because they didn't trust her or because they thought they knew better than her — but there was the possibility that they could be hiding in the Bullhead, waiting for everyone to assume that they'd already slipped out, and then, when everyone spread out to search for them, they would then slip out and get up to mischief.

It wasn't the likeliest option, but she had to be sure, and so she walked past the burning engine — and past Savannah and Rill too — and tucked her wings up against her back as she ducked down and crept inside the Bullhead.

It was empty; there was no sign of either Ilia or Yuma inside. There was no one in the main compartment where she'd left them all, and no one in the cockpit either when Gilda climbed in there.

Applejack had come in with her, holding onto her hat with one hand, and her green eyes darted around, seeing the same nothing that Gilda could see.

She muttered something under her breath, so quietly that Gilda couldn't hear it.

Then she turned and walked out, making it Gilda's turn to follow.

"They ain't here," Applejack said, as she emerged from out of the Bullhead. "They must have gone before we got here."

She was right. They had, for whatever reason, decided that they didn't want to stick around. Or they didn't all want to stick around. So, after Gilda had gone, they had left some of the others in the Bullhead while those two had gone … where?

That was the question, wasn't it?

They could be anywhere.

"Why isn't it working?" asked Lady Soojin, looking up from her scroll.

"It's … just a temporary glitch, dear," said her mother, Kiyoh, Lady Wong. "I'm sure it will come back soon. Maybe not tonight, but soon."

Hippolyta Nikos wondered whether Kiyoh believed that or not. For her own part, although she would not contradict Kiyoh's attempt to reassure her daughter, she doubted that it would be so simple.

She had not walked around the circumference of the arena to confirm it, but she suspected that something had happened to the CCT tower, some damage inflicted by the grimm, perhaps the great grimm that had sent their protectors of Team JAMM scarpering off on their airship in a quixotic endeavour.

If that was so, then the network, the whole network, would be down all across Remnant until the damage could be repaired.

They were cut off. Marooned, all connection to Mistral severed.

In Mistral, they were no doubt wondering what had happened, why their link to Vale had suddenly gone dead, and wondering what was becoming of Pyrrha and all of Mistral's gallant sons and daughters while they waited in their homes, far off, yearning for news that would not reach them for … well, that depended on how long it took to repair the damage. It could take days, it could take weeks, it could take so long that it was quicker to send an old-fashioned courier to Mistral with word.

So long that the first word of the outcome of the battle would be borne by its survivors, the Haven students coming home with their scars and tales, just as the first news of Lagune's defeat and the final death of Mistral's hopes against the faunus had been borne by the panicked soldiers who had fled the rout and sought the safety of Mistral's walls.

But then, although the people knew that Lagune had marched out at the head of a great host intending to seek battle, they did not know that the battle had begun until it was already ended; folk in Mistral today would know that there was a battle, but now, with the link between the kingdoms severed, they would not know who had won or at what cost the outcome had been purchased until long after the issue was decided, one way or another.

Hippolyta thought that perhaps the people of old had been more fortunate in their greater ignorance.

If fortune was kind, the Haven students would bring news not of a rout but of a victory, but even if fortune was good to Mistral, she was unlikely to be so good that it would be a victory without cost. Somewhere in Mistral or the wide lands of Anima that lay beneath its sway, the howls of mourning would be raised; the black shrouds would be donned; the hair, beards, garments all torn and left to hang ragged off trembling limbs. Perhaps the knock might come even at the door of some great house, and some family as old as Mistral would find that its shoots had been cut off and only ancient roots remained to wither on the vine.

But not yet, for first they must fret and fear and wait for news that had not yet come.

Just as Hippolyta herself must.

Her sympathy for the people of Mistral in their plight of waiting was somewhat diminished by her own situation, for what did she do here but fret and fear and wait while the battle raged, though it raged ever so close compared to all those in Mistral now waiting for news? Yet she was as ignorant as they, as blind as they, as unable as they were to say if Pyrrha lived, or what she did, or if Miss Shimmer lived or fought or where she was, or even if Mister Arc was still amongst the living or if Pyrrha's heart had been broken so young.

She had no way of knowing. She was a field of lack of knowledge over which hope and fear, pride and despair, fought like phalanxes pushing against one another, first one side prevailing, then the other rallying to drive back their foe, just so did Hippolyta's feelings ebb and flow within her breast while she waited and wondered and knew nothing.

Pyrrha was her only child, the last of her house, the last of her line; Hippolyta had not always thought it would be so: when she had been with child, even as she struggled up and down the stairs with bulging belly until at last she could struggle no more and had taken to her bed while all her maids attended on her, despite all that discomfort, Hippolyta had dreamed of other children. She had hoped for at least one more girl — she had liked Cassandra for a name, or Briseis — and for a son, who would resemble his father in looks. It was not to be. When Pyrrha had been born, Hippolyta had felt so tired, so drained, like a lake with all the water dried up; she had known that she would never bear another child. All her strength had gone into Pyrrha, along with all her hopes and her ambitions and all the general hopes and expectations of her line.

They hung upon a scarlet thread.

Pyrrha was a great warrior; she had demonstrated it before her mother's very eyes, in this very arena, with her victory. Her crowning triumph, the victory of which Hippolyta had dreamed and towards which she had pushed Pyrrha for so many years. And yet tonight, how vain and how vainglorious did such ambition seem? No doubt it would seem less so in the morning if Pyrrha returned victorious, safe and sound and living still, then no doubt would all Hippolyta's pride return like a river, once contained by a dam, released rushes once more in full spate through its course towards the ocean.

But if Pyrrha did not return…

Pyrrha was a great warrior, but the grimm were so numerous, and so numerous too were the stories of heroes felled at the height of their glory. Hippolyta had never believed Pyrrha to be invincible, despite her name; that was why she had given Miss Shimmer Soteria and bade her stand by Pyrrha's side, but where was Miss Shimmer now?

Where were any of them? Living still? Or had their limbs dissolved in cold and their spirits fled down to the shades?

What news would come?

And when would it come?

That my blood, that our high blood, that the blood of so many Mistralians great and small, and the blood of those dear to me and dearer to my daughter should be hazarded for Vale. For Vale! This place of proud pot-bellied merchants, this place of upstarts, this place of interfering self-righteous busybodies who love to wag their fingers, this place devoid of history or dignity that has so often sought to thwart and frustrate us, for this place, for Vale, we should risk our daughters, hopes, futures all things thrown into the path of destruction to save Vale.

If Pyrrha lives, I shall take her away from here. She cannot stay in Vale with the CCT down and all contact between the kingdoms severed. I will not suffer it, no matter how she sulks and storms and argues with me. I shall take Miss Shimmer too, and Mister Arc, and even that new Team Leader Miss Polendina if she will come.

All save Miss Rose, who is welcome to remain here and stew in her Valish sense of righteous indignation.

If Pyrrha lives, then she cannot stay here, suddenly so far away from home.

If…

"M'lady?" Hestia murmured, even those soft words intruding into Hippolyta's thoughts. "Forgive me, m'lady, but you seemed a thousand miles away."

"'A thousand miles'?" Hippolyta repeated. "Nay, Hestia, my thoughts did not gallop so far; they fly only a few furlongs beyond the wall at most."

"Of course, m'lady," Hestia said. She fell silent for a moment, before she dared to add, "If I may, m'lady, the gods would not be so cruel as to raise the young mistress to the height of her glory and cast her down to the underworld all in a single night."

Hippolyta was no great believer, but if she had been, she would have thought that such an action would indeed have touched the humour of the gods; it might even have seemed to them a just exchange, knowing that Pyrrha was soon to die, to grant her the glory of a tournament triumph first.

"Let us hope that you are right," she said.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

The voice that came to Hippolyta's ears was an unpleasant one; not grating, but too sibilant, too sickly sweet, like honeyed fruit with too much honey, or a treacle pudding slathered in too much sauce. Too much sweetness would upset the stomach, and in that way, this voice upset her ears.

She shuffled around, her stick tapping on the floor of the promenade as she faced this intruder to their company. She did not think that she had recognised the voice, and now that she saw him, she did not recognise the voice: a man, younger than she — at least, he looked younger, which was no great accomplishment — but older than her daughter, tall, with a build that Hippolyta would describe as fit rather than muscular; he had orange-brown hair combed back from his forehead — something he would regret once his hairline started to recede — and spiked upwards like the crest of a helmet. And he was a faunus, a bat faunus, with a pair of black, leathery wings sprouting from out of his back, half-unfurled on either side of him.

Hippolyta did not recognise him from the tournament, and in any case, he looked too old to compete. Although there was such a thing as a mature student, she supposed.

A glance behind her confirmed that all the Wongs had noticed this man's arrival also, all of them looking at him with varying degrees of surprise upon their faces.

Not someone known to them, then.

Hippolyta grasped the handle of her stick with both hands and said, "Well, well, what have we here indeed, sir. May we help you in some fashion?"

The man tilted his head a little to one side. "I recognise you," he said. "You are the Mistralian ambassador to Vale, aren't you? Lord Wong, isn't that what they call you?" His gaze turned to Hippolyta. "And you … I haven't been in Mistral for a while, but you … you're Councillor … no, that was years ago, but you are the head of the House of Nikos, aren't you? Heir to the vacant throne of Mistral?" He smiled, a rather ugly smile, too sharp, like a knife. "Oh, this is excellent."

"You know who we are, but who are you?" demanded Kiyoh.

The man took a step towards them. "I am the wrath of the downtrodden," he declared. "I am vengeance from on high. I am the instrument of the God of Animals, sent to deliver you down to the shades."

"You are White Fang," muttered Yichen Wong, Lord Wong.

The man did not reply but continued to bear down upon them. He spread his dark wings out on either side.

Hippolyta took one hand off the handle of her cane and gripped instead the ebony shaft. With her other hand, she altered her grip on the handle, the hilt, as she drew the sword concealed within the ebony cane.

A sword cane was something of an affectation; there were many who said that you would never be able to draw the blade in time if you should need it, and in any case, why not wear a sword upon your hip, openly, as a deterrent?

For Hippolyta's part, a sword on the hip would be too great a weight upon her side, and the sight of an old woman with a cane yet wearing a sword would be ridiculous, a vanity indeed from one whose youth and strength had all deserted her.

Whereas a sword concealed within a cane … it was true that she would not have been surprised to never make use of it, but there was no harm to her in having it present, as a last resort. The blade was slender but sharp, and it glimmered under the lights that shone from the promenade ceiling.

Hippolyta held the empty cylinder of her cane in the other hand, to parry or to strike with it. Her leg protested in pain at having to bear her weight unaided, but its protestations were, as yet, weak and possible to ignore.

The man scoffed. "You know, old crone, in Mistral, you are thought a freak, turned old before your time, and feeble too. Since you look old, accept your fate with a grandmother's dignity and don't humiliate yourself with a pathetic attempt at defiance."

"'Old crone'?" Hippolyta growled. "Yes, I am grown old before my time, my strength passed to my daughter whom you would not dare approach if she were here. But I am yet a daughter also, a daughter of the House of Nikos, descended of Pyrrha the Third and Second of that name, of Hippolyta the Fifth and of the first Hippolyta who gave our line the name of Nikos. And I would shame them all, and all my other ancestors in long line besides, were I to lie down and die without a fight."

The man cracked his knuckles. "Your daughter," he said, "will find you dead, alongside Mistral's ambassador, his wife and little daughter too, and all of Mistral will know that justice will find you, be you ever so high and wealthy and powerful. All the faunus will rejoice, and all the humans of Mistral will tremble."

I doubt the faunus of Mistral know who I am, Hippolyta thought. Although this fellow seems to remember me from my time on the Council.

But that was some time ago, before Pyrrha was born. He cannot have been more than a child.

No matter, he means to kill me in any case, and he is not wrong that it would cause alarm in some quarters.

No doubt he will kill Hestia too, as well as the Wongs. Unless he wishes to leave a witness.

"Lord and Lady Wong, Yichen, Kiyoh," Hippolyta said. "I thank you for the hospitality you have shown me during my visit here."

If she wished to do more than make a shriek of defiance as she perished, then she would need to be quick about it; when she said that her strength had passed into Pyrrha, she had not been speaking wholly metaphorically: the doctors told her with some shock that her aura levels had dropped dramatically after giving birth — although it had first diminished after her injury, never quite recovering to its previous levels. Her body would not stand up to a prolonged contest, and she would wager much of her family's wealth that her aura would break long before his did.

Her aura had never healed the damage to her leg, and that injury had gotten worse more quickly, like a stone gathering speed as it rolls downhill.

At any rate, it felt worse.

But she could yet stand unaided, for at least a time.

And in that time, perhaps she could show why she had once been known as the Flashing Blade.

Hippolyta would have liked to have closed her eyes a moment, but she dared not, not with this foe in front of her. So she kept her eyes fixed upon him as she whispered, "I would not be shamed."

Those were the words on her honour band, given to her by her father many years ago now. She did not wear the band — it would have seemed another affectation from a freak grown old before her time — but she recalled the words yet.

They were as true now as they had ever been. She would not be shamed.

The man charged at her, a snarl disfiguring his face as he clenched his hands into fists. "Perish, old bloods of Mistral!" he shouted. "Make way for a new world!"

He leapt up, head almost touching the ceiling above, and his wings held him aloft for a moment, poised to descend upon Hippolyta like a thunderbolt.

Hippolyta breathed slowly, in and out, as she concentrated much of her meagre store of aura in her sword arm.

With what remained, she activated her semblance.

One moment, Hippolyta stood before her enemy, the only shield of the Wongs and of her servant.

The next moment, she was behind him, hovering in the air as though she had been borne diagonally upwards, past and over him.

With all the strength that remained at her command, she slashed at him with the slender blade of her sword cane.

And fortune was good to her.

His aura broke. A wound appeared across his midriff. He cried out in pain as he fell to the floor, wings limp on either side of him. He hit the ground, half-rolled onto his side, and lay there, covered by one wing, clutching his wounded stomach.

Hippolyta fell too, a red light rippling over her as her aura broke. She plummeted like a rock dropped from a height, and could not contain the cry of agony that ripped from her as she hit the ground.

She screamed, undignified though it was, because it felt worse than when the blade had shattered her aura and ended her tournament career for good. If nothing else, the pain was in both legs this time, and both legs felt unusable, the pain spreading as far north as her knees. She was on all fours like a crawling babe and could not rise.

That brief exertion had been sufficient to bring out sweat on her face, and trickling down her arms as she lay there, gasping for breath.

"My lady!" Hestia cried as she rushed to Hippolyta's side. "My lady, let me help you—"

Hippolyta held up one hand to forestall her. "First, find some aid to remove that brute from our presence; I doubt that any of us wishes his further company. A student huntsman or huntress, an Atlesian soldier, someone. Offer money, if you must." Her travelling funds should be sufficient to cover it, even without the ability to draw out more with the CCT network down.

Hestia nodded, but said, "Are you sure, m'lady?"

Hippolyta nodded, though it was a weary nod. "I will not die just yet," she declared. "I have no intention of Pyrrha finding me a corpse. That would be the height of absurdity, no? That Pyrrha should come home safe and sound from the battle and find me dead in this supposed place of safety. No. No, I will endure until your return."

"Very well, m'lady, Hestia said. She got up and began to move away, but before she did, she turned back to Hippolyta. "Congratulations, ma'am, upon your victory."

My victory?

My victory.

The thought brought a smile to Hippolyta's face, despite the pain, as Hestia ran off to fetch someone to deal with the disabled enemy behind her.

Twilight had found the controls.

She was deep within the bowels of the Amity Arena. It felt — it was — so quiet down here, with only the deep bass humming of the engines rising up from the bowels of the arena for company. She couldn't hear anything else. No grimm, no fighting, nothing.

Being down here, in this dark room that remained dark even with all the lights on, a lot of black shadows looming in the edges of the walls, it was almost possible to forget that there was a battle raging outside and in Vale; almost possible to forget that Rainbow and Blake and so many others were fighting for their lives and for Vale beyond the walls.

Almost, but not quite. No matter how quiet it was in here, no matter how cut off it was from the rest of the world, no matter how much Remnant's problems seemed to have melted away, she couldn't forget it. She couldn't forget the immense battle raging, couldn't forget about the grimm hordes, couldn't forget about the danger.

All of that was the reason she was down here in the first place, after all, but even if it hadn't been, it wouldn't have been possible for her to forget the fact that two of her friends were … that they might…

Twilight closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. She couldn't think about that; she couldn't let herself obsess over it. She had a job to do. Rainbow and Blake were doing their part; now, she had to do hers and move this arena out of the way, over Vale where it was safer.

That was why she was here, in the control room. It was a round chamber, with only one entrance — directly behind her; Twilight had her back to the door — and a large hole in the centre of the room that, if Twilight was right about the design of the arena and the location of this chamber, led into the main dust reactor itself.

So not the kind of place that you would like to fall down. Luckily, there was a rail between her and the drop. Twilight guessed that the reason the hole was there at all was because the light coming up from the reactor would show there was something wrong as efficiently as any warning or diagnostic system.

Not that there weren't those too; this control panel — a big metallic slab sitting at a forty-five degree angle right in front of the hole in the floor — was certainly not short on controls, indicators, measurements, and anything else that you could think of. There was a lot of data being presented here, and a lot of options.

So many options that, for a newcomer, it had the potential to be a little confusing.

Twilight imagined that there was a pretty steep learning curve to working here.

That was why she hadn't even tried to move the Colosseum yet; she'd just been checking what all of these controls did, what all of these indicators told her, what all of these lights — flashing or otherwise — meant, what it all added up to, because the last thing she wanted was to start pushing buttons on an unfamiliar console and 'move the arena' by dropping it out of the sky.

But at this point, she felt like she was starting to get to grips with it.

If Twilight was reading all of this right — and she thought she was — then there wasn't currently enough power to move the Amity Arena.

Partly, that was because the main reactor was only running at eighty-six percent efficiency, which seemed a little low to her — someone should probably check that out once things quietened down — but more than that, as far as she could tell, it was because too many other arena systems were on with the Colosseum currently still in, for want of a better way of putting it, tournament mode, and the arena wasn't designed to be able to run all systems at once.

As a design philosophy, that was less than ideal, but from the practical standpoint of this being the largest free-standing reactor in the whole of Remnant — even the reactors that powered the gravity engines that kept Atlas afloat were not, one to one, as big as the power source for the Amity Arena — and one which already used as much dust every day as the entire city of Vacuo, it was understandable that there had to be some limits.

And who would expect that the Arena would need to move anywhere while the tournament was ongoing?

But there was a simple solution to all of this, and Twilight now felt confident enough in what she was doing to start pushing the relevant buttons.

She turned off the power to the stage, to the biomes, and to the stadium, which would now go dark since there was nothing keeping the lights on. She turned off the power to the boxes and to the upper-level kitchens that catered to them.

That was probably not everything that was intended to be turned off before the arena was moved anywhere, but she wasn't about to start cutting power to the promenade or the interior when there were so many people still in the Colosseum.

If there was enough juice to get the engines to fire, that would be enough for her. It wasn't as though she was trying to fly Amity all the way back to Atlas like this, after all; she only wanted to nudge it a little bit.

If the engines were coughing and spluttering all the while, then so be it. It would only be temporary.

She pushed the button to turn on the lateral thrusters.

There was a pause, then there was a deep groan from down in the depths of the arena as the whole of the Colosseum trembled.

O-kay; clearly, I didn't save quite enough power from elsewhere.

But hold it together, okay; it's only temporary.

The lack of warning lights or screaming alarms, and the fact that the groaning of the engine didn't get any worse, told Twilight that though the engine might not like this, it wasn't in danger of exploding or shorting out any time soon.

That was good. That was very good.

I think we might be in business.

A slight smile crossed Twilight's face.

Now to set direction.

Twilight's fingers moved rapidly, setting the correct direction: westward, away from Beacon and over Vale.

With a single push of a button, she activated the thrusters.

Once more, the whole arena shook, shaking to the left this time, almost trembling Twilight off her feet as the engines stirred to life, pushing against the weight of the immense arena.

She could feel the strain, feel the engines pushing and the whole arena itself resisting, feel everything around her shuddering as shockwaves of force ran through it.

And then, slowly at first, gradually building up momentum, the arena began to move; Twilight could feel it moving, feel the direction in which she was being pushed change, feel the arena shake with motion beneath her feet. The very sound of the reactor changed.

It's working.

It's working!

Twilight clapped her hands together.

Now, I just need to—

The door opened behind her with a hydraulic hiss.

Twilight turned. She saw someone silhouetted in the doorway, with the light of the corridor behind her, but before she could work out who it was, they were already on her.

Their first punch slammed into Twilight's gut hard enough to make her double over, a gasp of breath leaping out of Twilight's mouth as she clutched at her stomach with both hands. She felt strong hands grab her hair, yanking her head up as a second punch, straight to the nose, sent her head snapping backwards as her aura flared. Twilight groaned in pain as she was back-handed hard enough to topple over and land on the floor, her glasses flying off her face.

Before Twilight could even think of reaching for them, she was grabbed by the neck and hauled up off her feet, where whoever it was hit her again, another blow across the face.

Without her glasses, it was hard to make out the face of her attacker, except that they were a girl, a woman. They looked very red; that was the main thing that Twilight could see, redness.

Redness and a ponytail.

"You're Twilight Sparkle, right?" her attacker growled. "I recognise you from TV. You're on the same team as Rainbow Dash, which means you're one of her friends, which means you're one of Blake's friends. Which means that when I take you with me, they'll come after you, and then I can kill them both."

"Ilia! Let her go!"

Their feet pounded on the floor as Gilda and Applejack ran down the corridors.

Nobody had been willing to tell Gilda where Ilia — or Yuma — had gone, but they had found Yuma after some Mistralian maid or something said that her mistress had just taken care of a bat faunus who had tried to attack them. Honestly? Good for her, whoever she was; that guy was a real creep. Whatever happened to Gilda next, at least she would never have to hear him call her 'sister Gilda' in that stupid voice again.

Seriously, he sounded like was auditioning to play bad guys in cartoons.

That left Ilia. And someone — another Shade student, one who hadn't been hired by Shining Armor — had seen her headed inside, into the recesses of the arena.

And so, Gilda and Applejack had followed her.

Not followed her exactly, because the inside of this place was big, but Applejack had said that their friend Twilight was down here working, so they were going to check on her. Just in case.

Gilda wasn't sure how Ilia would or could know she was here, but if she found her, then … things could go badly for Twilight.

Gilda had never liked Twilight. She was Dashie's first human friend, the one who had lifted her out of their shared Low Town existence and carried Rainbow up to Atlas, which had been reason enough for Gilda to resent her. She'd resented her when she came down to visit Rainbow in Low Town, and she'd resented all the more when Twilight had condescended — at least, that was how Gilda had seen it at the time — to invite Gilda to come up and visit her in Atlas.

Looking back, she'd probably been trying to get thrown out of the house, but it had been something else to be annoyed about at the time. Something else to dislike Twilight for. Something else to be angry at Rainbow for not taking her side about.

Yeah, she'd been … she hadn't handled things very well back then.

Which meant that if they could get to her before Ilia did—

Too late. The two of them rounded the corner, and there, at the end of the metallic corridor, was an open door into a dark room of some kind, a room with a big control panel and some kind of big hole in the middle, it looked like.

Why you'd put a big hole in the middle of the floor like that, railing or not, Gilda couldn't begin to guess.

More importantly, Ilia was there, clearly visible through the doorway, and she had Twilight Sparkle by the neck.

Applejack skidded to a halt, raising her rifle to her shoulder.

"Ilia!" Gilda shouted. "Let her go!"

Ilia turned to look at them.

Applejack fired.

Ilia flinched, half-ducking but not losing her grip on Twilight; the shot didn't seem to hit her, she didn't act like she'd been shot; Gilda guessed that Applejack's aim had been thrown off by trying to avoid hitting Twilight.

Now, Ilia swung around, bringing Twilight between her and Gilda and Applejack. She peered around her hostage. Gilda could only see a bit less than half her face.

She could only see one eye, but that eye was wide and burned with anger.

"Gilda?" she cried. "What are you doing with her? With one of them?" She gasped. "Are you with them? Have you always been with them? Was this your plan all along, to—?"

"No," Gilda said, taking a step forward. "No, it wasn't my plan. You made it my plan when you couldn't hold back, any of you."

"You decided to betray us because we made you uncomfortable?"

"I decided to betray you because I don't want to do this anymore!" Gilda snapped. "I don't want to kill, I don't want to fight my friends, I don't want to hate people who are trying their best, like Rainbow, like Blake—"

"Don't talk to me about Blake!" Ilia yelled. "This … this why she has to die, don't you see that?! This is why they both have to die, because they confuse people, they corrupt them, they make them think that—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough with yer yappin'!" Applejack said. "Put Twilight down right now, or you and I can go round two without all your pals backin' you up."

"It's over, Ilia," Gilda said. "Everyone else has been captured again. There's no way out of here."

Ilia blinked. "No way out," she repeated. "No way out." She closed her eyes. "Play up, play up, and play the game."

"Ilia," Gilda said. "Just—"

"Long live the White Fang!" Ilia yelled as she threw Twilight into the hole in the centre of the room.

Twilight shrieked as she fell, arms and legs flailing.

Gilda leapt, her wings spreading out as far as the cramped corridor would allow, kicking off the floor and, if not soaring, then sort of flying anyway. She flew through the open doorway, gaining height as the chamber broadened out around her, dodging Ilia's lash — she'd leave her for Applejack — and flying over her and over the deep pit in the centre of the room.

The pit into which Twilight was falling, and screaming as she fell.

Gilda dived. Her wings beat furiously. All objects fell at the same speed, or something like that, so Gilda had to fly if she was going to fall faster than Twilight. Her wings beat up and down, up and down, up and down, even while Gilda went straight down, down, down, plunging into this pit of darkness that led to where? Who in Remnant thought this was a good idea for a room?

Without her birdlike night vision, she would have been lost, but with it, she could still see Twilight, up ahead, flailing wildly.

She was getting closer.

And a good thing too, because there was something else up ahead too, with a kind of nasty glow that Gilda would rather avoid.

She beat her wings even faster. They were starting to ache from the rapid motion, but she had to go faster.

Down and down Gilda flew, accelerating all the while, gaining on Twilight, getting closer to her than Twilight — or her, for that matter — was getting to the glow.

She flew down and down until she was below Twilight, and only then did Gilda spread her wings out to slow down, holding out her hands to sweep Twilight up in her arms as they began to climb upwards.

She flew more slowly up, partly because she was carrying the extra weight, but also because she was kind of tired from the rapid descent. She would need to pace herself a little bit more on the way back up.

"Gilda?" Twilight asked, squinting her purple eyes. "Gilda, is that you?"

"Yeah," Gilda said. "Yeah, it's me. I've got you. And I'm going to get you back up top too, eventually."

"But … why?" Twilight asked. "I thought … I mean, didn't you—?"

"Yes," Gilda said. "Whatever it is, I probably did it, so you don't need to say it. I … like I told Ilia, I don't want to be that person anymore."

"I … I see," Twilight murmured.

"Really?"

"No, not really," Twilight admitted. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Gilda said. "Everything. Something. I don't know. Lady Belladonna … helped me listen to my conscience. Or she was my conscience. Or she was there at the right time. There for me."

There was a pause, before Twilight said, "Rainbow will be glad to hear that?"

"Yeah?" Gilda asked. "Listen, Twilight … sorry I was such a—"

"It's okay."

"You don't even know what it was yet!"

"Whatever it was, it's okay," Twilight said. "So you don't need to say it." She smiled. "Whatever it was, saving my life probably makes us even, don't you think?"

Gilda laughed. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd hope so anyway."

Gradually, she carried Twilight back up to the top of the pit, where she found Applejack waiting — and Ilia, on the floor but alive.

"You got her!" Applejack yelled, and no sooner had Gilda set Twilight down on the floor than Applejack had pulled her into a hug. Applejack looked at Gilda over Twilight's shoulder. "Thanks. Ah owe you."

"You don't owe me nothing," Gilda replied. She leaned around Applejack to look at Ilia. "You didn't kill her, then?"

"Like Ah told ya," Applejack said. "We're the good guys."

"Right," Gilda murmured. "The good guys."

And so am I.

I hope so, anyway.

Behind the Wall (New)

Behind the Wall

Sunset stared at it. So far away and yet so large. How huge was it? What did it look like up close?

She wasn’t sure that she really wanted to know the answer to that.

A dragon. A grimm dragon, she was almost certain, even at this distance. A real dragon would have been almost as bad, or perhaps even worse, but she was certain — as certain as she could be, at any rate — that this was a grimm. It was too black, and too white besides, to be anything else, a dragon — at least the dragons of Equestria — would not be so mismatched in its colour scheme.

A dragon. A grimm dragon. Sunset had seen the bones in Mistral when Pyrrha had brought them there, but she hadn’t really thought about what they might mean, that just as you had beowolves and ursai sprung out of wolves and bears, so, too, you could have … this.

Sunset stared at it, rooted to the spot not with fear — it made her nervous to see such a thing, but it was as yet too far away to be truly scary, at least too far to induce the kind of fear that would hold her in place — but with a sort of hopelessness. What could she do against something that size? What would she be but a light aperitif for it? What power of hers could match such size, and the strength that would go along with it? When it drew near, and she beheld in all its gargantuan size and truly comprehended her insignificance by comparison, what power could she set against it?

What, then, was the point? What could she do, where could she go?

What move could she make that would make the slightest bit of difference?

There was a light. A bright, brilliant white light, closer to her than the dragon by far. It was Weiss’ ghostly beowolf, and Weiss herself upon its back, as it leapt over the shattered gates and into the grounds of the power plant.

The summoned, spectral beowolf bounded across the open, tarmacked space towards Sunset, turning aside at the last minute and coming to a brisk halt before her. Weiss leapt from the beowolf’s back, and the ghostly form began to dissolve, just as a grimm itself might, leaving nothing behind it but wisps of white ectoplasm that floated through the air a few feet before they vanished from view.

Weiss stood before Sunset, not even remotely beginning to block out her view of the grimm dragon as it flew from Mountain Glenn northwest towards Vale.

She turned, facing the same direction as Sunset, both of them now looking at the same thing.

“Do you know what it is?” Weiss asked.

“A very large grimm,” Sunset said.

“Obviously,” Weiss snapped. “But … it looks as though its coming from — it is coming from the southeast. From Mountain Glenn.” She glanced at Sunset. “Did you—?”

“No, I didn’t see it!” It was Sunset’s turn to snap now. “If I had…”

If I had, we might not have made it back?

If Salem had this all along, why didn’t she use it back then?

Because it wouldn’t have fit down the tunnel, I suppose.

It could have flown over the tunnel.

Because … because this attack is more important to her? Because this is the big push? Because she absolutely needs to win here, and so she’s pulling out all the stops? But why? Why now? What’s so important about right this moment that she’s willing to throw the kitchen sink at us when she didn’t before?

Sunset licked her lips. Don’t … don’t tell me that Cinder was telling the truth. The truth about Amber.

Don’t tell me that she really has betrayed us, and that she’s going to give the Relic up to Salem.

That … that would explain going all out, wouldn’t it?

“Sunset?” Weiss asked, her voice intruding into Sunset’s thoughts. “Sunset!”

“What?” Sunset asked, shaking her head a little. “Yes, what?”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “What?” Her voice dropped a little. “What do we do?”

“You’re asking me?” Sunset demanded. “I…”

I don’t know. How should I know? I’ve got no idea. What are we supposed to do against something like that? I mean, have you seen the size of it? If that’s what it looks like so far away, then what do you think it looks like when it gets closer?

“Hit me again,” Sunset said.

Weiss raised one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Slap me again, come on, I need you to knock some thoughts out of my head,” Sunset told her.

Weiss’ eyes narrowed, and she hesitated for a second, before doing as Sunset asked and slapping her across the cheek a second time. The blow stung, but not as badly as it had done before; it was as though—

Huh. My aura’s coming back.

Assuming Weiss didn’t just break it again.

Nevertheless, though her aura was creeping back like a cat slinking back home after a weekend in the seedy, swinging back-alleys, Weiss’ blow still stung. Which was good; that was what Sunset had wanted.

Even as she rubbed her cheek with one white-gloved hand, her mind felt a little clearer now than it had done before, the shock of the dragon’s sudden, dramatic appearance in the sky above fading, or knocked out of her, just as Sunset had wished.

Yes, her mind felt clearer now; she could think … not about what to actually do about that thing, beyond hope that someone else could kill it, but she could think clearly enough to not be rooted to the spot just by its mere appearance.

Nothing had changed but the presence of one more grimm. Pyrrha, Penny, Jaune, Ruby, everyone else was still fighting, somewhere, out beyond the city walls; the grimm were still attacking Vale; Amber might have betrayed them to Salem.

Flash was still badly wounded, up on the Atlesian medical frigate.

Councillor Emerald too; they might still be operating on him, or they might, if he was lucky, have gotten the bullet, and he was now in recovery somewhere up on that ship.

Either way, he’d been wounded too, shot for the love of his country.

Sunset was no less bound to do what she could than when she had leapt from the medical frigate. Just because there was a new, larger, more powerful grimm about tonight, that didn’t really change anything.

“I think,” Sunset said as she looked at the grimm dragon once more. It was headed towards Vale, getting larger in her sight. Not much larger, not yet, but there was already a perceptible change from when it had first emerged out of the mountain. “I think,” she repeated, “that the time has come for us to join the battle outside the walls.”

“Are you sure?” asked Weiss. “There might still be work we can do here.”

“Perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “But … if that thing reaches the battle lines outside the city—”

“Then Atlas will stop it,” Weiss declared, with absolute and unwavering certainty in her voice.

Sunset snorted. “If you’re such an Atlesian patriot, then why aren’t you an Atlas student?”

“For … personal reasons,” Weiss replied. “It doesn’t mean I don’t have a healthy respect for the power at General Ironwood’s command, his ships, his weapons. To deal with such large grimm is why we have large guns.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Sunset replied, as she started to walk — briskly, forcing Weiss to almost run to keep up with her on her little legs — out of the power plant and towards her bike. “But, well, that would be good, if we got there and that thing had been blown up by some missiles or whatever, but if not—”

“If not, then you have a plan?” Weiss suggested.

“What?” Sunset asked. “No! I’ve got no idea what to do about that thing. But…” She thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. “Now that my aura is coming back, now that I can be more of a help than a hindrance, now that I don’t have to worry about anyone needing to protect me in my aura-less state … and now that this thing has upped the ante so dramatically, I would face this peril with them than cower any longer behind these walls.”

“Well, when you put it like that, you make it hard to stay away,” Weiss murmured. “Alright, then, we’ll go together, out onto the battlefield.” She put one hand upon her hip. “We will prevail, you know. As large as that grimm seems, even from here, we will bring it down.”

“We as in Atlas?”

“We as in someone,” Weiss said. “One of us, one of our friends, an Atlesian warship, someone fighting to defend Vale, someone on this battlefield, someone will bring it down.” A corner of her lip twitched upwards. “There’ll be no need for you to join your friends inside the belly of that monster.”

Sunset blinked. “What makes you think—?”

“You have that sort of personality,” Weiss said. “A bit too melodramatic, and a little too deeply attached.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that!”

“You overestimate how much of an enigma you are if you think you’re hard to know,” Weiss replied. “How long did it take you to get over your boyfriend again?”

“That is…” Sunset trailed off, because as annoying as it was, Weiss had her bang to rights. Mostly. “Do you really think there’s such a thing as an unhealthy attachment? Is it not a good thing that we should love and cherish one another?”

“Not to the exclusion of all else,” Weiss said.

Sunset shrugged. “Well, anyway,” she replied. “Whence comes this optimism on your part?”

“When my grandfather looked at the state of Mantle after the Great War, it must have seemed incredible that any one man could lift this beaten kingdom, broken by war and tyranny and revolution, up out of the mire of despair and make of it not just a great kingdom but the greatest kingdom,” Weiss said. “How could one man do all of that, reverse the tides of history by his efforts? But he did; with the sweat of his brow and the work of his hands and the strength of his spirit, he lifted Atlas on his back and hoisted all our greatness. When we put our minds to it, we can do anything.”

Sunset didn’t reply to that; she imagined that it might have stirred something in Blake or Rainbow Dash, but while it didn’t exactly bounce off her soul, it wasn’t something that she found hugely inspiring either.

Still, it was good to be optimistic, and so she didn’t say anything against Weiss or her attitude either as they clambered over the tangle of cars that had smashed through the power plant gates and made their way back through the detritus of the battle.

Through the bodies that the battle had left behind.

It wasn’t something they could take care of right now, but hopefully, someone, at some point, would come to take all these people away.

Hopefully, someone would think to arrange it, at some point soon.

Sunset looked at Weiss. “How’s your police captain? Did you get her to a hospital?”

“She’s a lieutenant,” Weiss corrected her. “Although if almost dying in the line of duty isn’t enough to get you a promotion, I’m not sure what is. Yes, I got her to a hospital; she’s … I hope she’ll be alright. They were taking care of her when I left, but I didn’t stay to see how … I couldn’t say. Lieutenant Martinez wouldn’t want me to hang around outside her room while they were performing surgery. She’d want me to be out here, or even out on the battlefield. She’d want me to be somewhere, doing something. It’s not like I could help her get better by my presence.” She paused. “But that’s another reason why we — why someone — will stop that grimm: because we have to. Because if we don’t, then the Lieutenant will be torn to pieces in her hospital, and it won’t matter a damn what I did to get her to a doctor. I refuse to let that happen.”

They reached Sunset’s bike, and Sunset grabbed her helmet and pulled it on over her head as the two of them climbed aboard. She felt Weiss’ hands around her waist as she started up the bike, skidding it around on the ground as the engine hummed.

Turning her motorcycle around so that it was facing towards Vale, Sunset could see — again — the dragon in the sky above. It was still getting closer, only now … now, she could see flashes of light in the sky around it, or at least, she thought that they were around it. Green flashes, and some red, and lights in the sky like twinkling stars. Or explosions. Was someone shooting at the dragon already? Was it the Atlesians, like Weiss had said?

Sunset’s helmet blocked out a lot of sound, but not all of it, and Weiss was sufficiently close by, sitting behind Sunset with her arms around Sunset’s waist, that Sunset could hear her muttering from behind her.

“Come on. Come on, get it done.”

Yes. Yes, do it. Kill it. Destroy it. Bring it down. Take care of it before we get there.

Make good all that boasting.

It didn’t seem to be the big airships firing — Sunset thought that she could see them elsewhere in the sky, distinguished by the lights on their hulls and by the immense quantities of visible fire pouring out of them as lasers and missiles hammered the ground below or exploded in the sky above. It wasn’t them, but maybe it was the smaller airships, the fighters or whatever, maybe they were engaging the dragon already.

Maybe they would take it out far from Vale, before it ever became a problem.

They could only hope, as Sunset pulled down her visor and started to accelerate her motorcycle.

She pulled away, leaving the power plant — and all the destruction that the Grimm cultists and the Valish Defence Force had wrought there — behind.

Heading instead towards the walls of Vale and to the battle that was raging beyond, hoping that the dragon would be gone before they got there.

As they rode through the streets, it seemed that those hopes might be in vain.

When Sunset had driven Councillor Emerald through the Valish streets from his residence towards the command centre, the streets had been clear; when Sunset had driven through the streets towards the airship crash that had turned out to contain Weiss, the streets had been clear; even when she and Weiss had driven towards this power plant, the streets had been clear. The curfew imposed by General Blackthorn, the confusion and fear that this whole mad situation generated, it had all combined to keep people off the streets and in their homes, leaving the roads wide open for Sunset’s motorcycle to roam whither she would, as fast as she could. But now, the roads and streets were beginning to, not fill up again — that would have been an exaggeration — but they were beginning to be less empty than they had been before.

And the dragon was responsible. Though Sunset’s helmet muffled the sound, she was still able to hear the dragon’s roars, even at this great but shrinking distance, carrying all the way from beyond Vale into the city itself. How much louder they would have sounded if she hadn’t had the helmet on, how loud they sounded to Weiss sat behind her, Sunset didn’t know, but she did know that the roaring was doing what the sounds of battle, the Atlesian missiles exploding and the guns firing, what none of the rest of it could do and bringing people out of their houses.

Perhaps it helped, or didn’t help, that the city seemed so much safer now than it had been; that the Councillor Emerald had proclaimed the resolution of the nasty business with General Blackthorn, that most of the city was now free of Grimm cultists, that all the trouble now seemed to lie beyond the walls, not within.

In any case, as Sunset and Weiss rode through the streets, Sunset noticed more and more lights turning on in the houses that lined the roadside, lights turning on in the tall apartment blocks that climbed towards the sky, lights in the terraces and the red brick townhouses, lights everywhere that had been kept off or concealed behind the drapes as people who had huddled in their homes and waited for the dawn now found a little courage to demonstrate their presence to their neighbours and the world.

The lights came on, and the doors opened, and people in dressing gowns and slippers, in faded jeans and fraying trainers, in old T-shirts and Vytal shirts of this year or of some years’ past came stumbling out into the streets to turn their eyes with gasps of horror towards the great dragon that was getting larger and larger as it headed inexorably towards Vale.

There were people on the rooftops of the apartment buildings as well — Sunset could see them when she looked up — and like the people down in the streets below, they were pointing, probably gasping too, all of them staring in shock as the dragon came closer.

But it was the people in the street that bothered Sunset. They were blocking her way, whereas before, she had been able to race through Vale unimpeded, now, she had to crawl along at barely greater than walking speed, or slow down so much that it was actually quicker and easier to get off and walk the bike than to try and keep her balance while going so slow, or else there was no way forward at all, and she had to try and find another way around through a street that wasn’t half obstructed by gawping people spilling out of doors.

“Get out of the way!” Sunset shouted at them. “Go back inside, clear the road! Stop…” She searched for a form of words that would make what they were doing sound suitably heinous that they would be shamed into stopping it. “Stop obstructing the King’s Highway!”

They didn’t take any notice. Not a blind bit; no matter how much she raged at them, they barely seemed to listen at all. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely fair; some people shuffled out of the way and let them pass, all the while staring — either at Weiss on the back of her bike, or else at her bike itself because everyone seemed to have an opinion upon that these days. Perhaps they even recognised Sunset, although she was wearing a helmet, so that would be difficult. But some — a precious few, a precious and well-regarded few for whom she was very grateful — moved aside and cleared the middle of the road to let them pass. But not enough, not nearly enough.

Vale was a big city. Sunset had heard the story — Dove had told it, with a degree of chagrin, after Amber had prompted him to tell it again one evening when they were all hanging out — about how Dove, country boy that he was, had once tried to walk clean from one end of the city to the other, convinced that it couldn’t possibly be as big as all that. He had failed — and failed quite badly by the sounds of it — because it turned out that, yeah, actually, Vale really was that big. In terms of sprawling size, it was bigger than Mistral or Atlas, although both of them built down as well as across, and it might have taken some time to get across the city all the way to the wall — and then beyond — in any case, even if she’d been able to race straight there at top speed.

As she wasn’t able to race straight there at top speed because of all these people in the way, it might take a little while.

The worst part might be that she couldn’t even really blame all of these people for blocking the road, because with the dragon roaring and snarling and shrieking too and flying towards Vale, getting closer all the time towards Vale, she couldn’t blame the people of Vale for being concerned, for coming out, for wanting to know what that sound was and what was going on.

Sunset was concerned herself.

And it wasn’t helping that the dragon seemed to be blowing through all resistance to its triumphant progress. The lights of green and red that had lit up the sky were gone, the flashes of explosions that had twinkled in the night like brief stars had faded, and the dragon had kept on coming. Then it had been the turn of the Atlesian airships to light up the night sky, their red lasers burning through the dark, and again, Sunset had heard Weiss whispering beside her, her words reaching beyond Sunset’s helmet as she urged on the Atlesian air power to victory.

Her words were vain, as Sunset’s hopes were vain, as all the Atlesian firepower was vain as they watched the dragon … it was hard to make out the details exactly, but the Atlesian firepower, their crimson laser beams that lit up the night, began to fade from view, wink out of sight, replace by great explosions blossoming in the darkness.

And Sunset could still see the dragon, larger still though still so far off from her as to seem like a toy, like an expensive toy like Bramble’s Amity Colosseum that Councillor Emerald had brought for him — just as the real Amity Arena seemed like just such a toy as it hung in the skies over Beacon — still, it was visible, and larger than it had been.

If it was in amongst the Atlesian airships, then it must be close now, no? It must be so close that it was right over the battlefield, unless the Atlesian warships had ventured out beyond their own lines to engage it, and even then, they wouldn’t have ventured very far.

It was close now.

It was closer to Sunset’s friends than she was, stuck in Vale as she was, trapped by the crowds as she was.

Trapped as she was by the crowds that seemed to be growing more fearful by the moment.

Someone has to do something, Sunset thought, but who? Who could speak to these people? Who could calm them down?

Not her, certainly; who was she to them, a mere huntress, not even that, a mere student huntress, a girl, someone they might have seen on the television in the four on four round of the Vytal Tournament, someone whose name they might have caught on the news.

Someone they might remember had only lately been accused of putting the whole city at risk.

She wasn’t Councillor Emerald, or any other elected official, or Professor Ozpin or some such trusted figure of authority, to address them, to bid them be calm, to ask them to go back inside and wait for everything to come right again.

As much to the point, even if she wanted to stop and get on a soapbox, unless she planned to turn away from her journey to the wall — their journey to the wall, for Weiss was here too — and travel around the city instead addressing crowds wherever she found them, then the most she could do was affect the small number of people in front of her at the moment, blocking the roads.

That wasn’t likely to change the mood in the whole city, and it might not even change the mood in this one street if she couldn’t find the words.

Yes, it wasn’t good that there was what felt like an increasing amount of fear out on the streets of Vale tonight, but considering that there was already a massive grimm attack aimed at the city, it was hard to see how fear could make things worse.

The best thing that Sunset and Weiss could do for all these frightened people was not to tell them to calm down, but to get out onto the battlefield and join the fight, because if the grimm broke through the defenders, then whether the people of Vale were scared or not probably wouldn’t make a lot of difference to the outcome.

So they kept on going, heading towards the edge of Vale as fast as frightened crowds and the engine of Sunset’s bike would carry them. In the meantime, as they travelled, the dragon dropped in and out of sight, swooping down beneath the walls of Vale that loomed in front of them. Sunset wondered what it was doing, only to find to her discomfort that it didn’t take a great deal of imagination to conjure up the dragon bearing down upon the battlefield with claws and teeth and that terrible weapon that leapt from its mouth, the weapon that they had seen lighting up the night sky, the dragon unleashing fire to rival the lasers of the Atlesian warships.

And now, that fire, and that strength, all the power that had smashed airships and torn through all opposition in the sky was no doubt being turned upon Sunset’s friends on the ground. On Blake and Rainbow Dash; on Pyrrha, Penny, Jaune, Ruby. On the Atlesians and the Beacon students and the Haven students and the Shade students and the Valish Defence Force and anyone else who might be unlucky enough to still be out there.

It was unleashed on all of them. How could they stand before it?

Sunset felt Weiss’ grip around her waist tighten and thought that she heard — the helmet made it hard to be sure — a little muffled sound from her, a … not a whimper — Sunset would not call it a whimper; she did not want to make Weiss seem weak — but … something like it, or perhaps a sob, a sound of fright or worry or … or despair.

It might be hard to recall that all things were possible to they who had the will to dare them when the prospect of friends dying at the hands of mighty grimm loomed before.

Sunset was ever more eager to reach the battlefield; if they kept this up, this constant journeying, this dodging the crowds, this trying to find a way forward that wasn’t blocked by frightened people, then they would be undone. The more time they took to reach the walls, the more time fear had to creep back into Sunset’s heart, and Weiss’ heart, and take the hearts of both of them.

As they rode, Sunset thought for a moment that she saw a bright light from beyond the walls, perhaps even a silver light … but then the dragon rose up into view once more, and Sunset thought that she must have imagined it, a last gleaming of hope within her breast manifesting as the gleaming of a light before her eyes.

What she had not imagined was the dragon rising through the air and heading for Beacon.

Behind the visor of her helmet, Sunset’s eyes widened as she watched the enormous dragon soar through the night sky. Amity gleamed bright above the school, and Sunset could not help but think that it was lit up like a target ever-so-tempting for the grimm. Was there nothing they could do to move it to some safer place? Probably not, not at this stage.

Her hands trembled as she watched. She didn’t want to watch, but she could not look away, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dragon as it flew through the air and turned its fire, not upon Amity Arena, but on the Emerald Tower.

A great blast of yellow light erupted out of his mouth and struck the tower in the middle of its height, and the tower, Beacon Tower, the Emerald Tower, Professor Ozpin’s tower … it was destroyed.

The emerald lights that had shone in the darkness, that had been a constant presence in the night sky when out and about at Beacon, or in Vale when one turned eastward, the lights that burned in night and day, the beacon of the school if anything could make a claim to such … the emerald lights were snuffed out.

The tower was gone.

“The CCT!” Weiss cried.

The CCT? Hang the CCT, what about Professor Ozpin? Had he gotten away in time? He had to have gotten away in time, right? He had to have seen that coming from his office high up in the tower? Or perhaps he hadn’t even been up in the tower when the dragon attacked; perhaps he’d been out. Perhaps he was even out on the battlefield, with the students. Far from the tower. Far from the grimm that now sat on top of the tower, roaring so loudly in its triumphant pomp that they could hear it in Vale.

The gasps of the people rose louder still, they cried aloud in shock and fear, but for all that they had cause to gasp and point and even cry out, Sunset would have given up the tower and the CCT and everything else gladly to know for sure that Professor Ozpin was safe.

Everything else, they could manage without, muddle through somehow, but without Professor Ozpin … Sunset hoped, she so hoped, she very much hoped that he was alright.

Please, Professor, please be okay.

The grimm was sat on top of the ruined tower; it perched there as though it was its nest, but it was still far too close to the Amity Arena for Sunset’s liking; who was up there still, anyone? Were the crowds who had flocked there for the finals still there, Lady Nikos? Sunset did not like it being so close; it looked so vulnerable, like a nice juicy apple placed next to a hungry horse. How long could the dragon possibly forebear to taste?

Then, as Sunset watched, she saw something emerge from out of the Colosseum. She couldn’t exactly see it very well — it was too small — but it must have been some kind of airship, because what else would be flying out of the arena except an airship?

Whoever was flying it, they had some nerve; they flew up to and past the dragon, which began to pursue them, mouth agape, away from Amity — and over Vale.

The dragon grew larger and larger, no longer a large toy in Sunset’s eyes but a powerful grimm in all its might and majesty, the vastness that had been apparent even far away becoming clearer by the moment. The dragon flew over the walls and over the streets of Vale, swatting aside the two gallant but foolhardy Atlesian airships that tried to intercept it, enduring their very large missiles the same way it had endured the lasers of the larger warships.

It swatted one of the Atlesian airships right into the original — ornate, almost certainly Mistralian — airship that it had followed over Vale in the first place. The back half of the airship disappeared, destroyed in an instant, and the remainder began to tumble through the sky.

Sunset changed course.

“What are you doing?” Weiss demanded.

“I’m going to see if they’re okay!” Sunset shouted. “If there are survivors, we can’t just leave them!”

“No,” Weiss agreed. “No, I don’t suppose we can.”

The dragon was circling above as Sunset headed towards where she had seen the careening airship go down. That was getting people out of the road; where the dragon’s roaring had drawn them out of doors, now its roars — and the fact that they had could see it huge and imposing right on top of them — drove them back inside, or else sent them flying away from the dragon towards some place that might be safer. Either way, Sunset and Weiss made better progress than they had done for a while, racing through the streets as they had done earlier that night, turning around a corner to see the wreck of the airship sprawled across the road, and all its passengers sprawled out also, lying amongst the debris, and amongst the … puddles.

There were puddles on the road, puddles of black ooze, of some sort of gooey substance, puddles that were falling from the sky.

No, not falling from the sky, falling from the dragon; as Sunset looked up once more, she could see what distance had obscured before, that the dragon was leaking, black goo dripping down from it like a tap that hadn’t been turned off properly.

What was it? Was it blood? Was this evidence that the Atlesians had wounded it?

No, not blood. Sunset knew that it could not be blood, because drops of blood, even grimm blood, would not have started to form other grimm the way these pools of darkness did.

Grimm in Vale. Grimm behind the walls of Vale.

Grimm like the beowolf that was forming out of the pool right beside one of the survivors of the crashed airship.

Medea. It’s Medea Helios from Team JAMM, the one who came around to talk to Pyrrha.

The beowolf was standing over her; it looked young, very juvenile, no armour at all.

But its teeth looked sharp nonetheless.

Sunset accelerated, the motorcycle roaring down the road.

“Weiss, I need you to loosen your grip,” Sunset called.

Weiss didn’t question; she relaxed her grasp on Sunset’s waist, so that Sunset could draw her sword free, holding the black blade in one hand.

Sunset turned, the tyres of her motorcycle skidding loudly on the road as she sliced off the beowolf’s head in a single smooth stroke.

Weiss dismounted at once, Sunset a step behind.

"See if you can reach Professor Goodwitch; tell her we need an ambulance," Sunset said, pulling off her helmet. "And tell her … tell her there are grimm inside the city."

Grimm inside the city. Grimm behind the walls. Grimm in Vale, again, and this time with no Atlesian army to stop them.

On the plus side…

No, I’d better not say it.

“Right,” Weiss murmured, fumbling for her scroll. “This night…” Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by another beowolf trying to claw its way out of another pool of the black goo that the dragon was dripping down like so much snot out of a runny nose. Weiss killed it with a blast of dust from out of Myrtenaster.

Sunset knelt down beside Medea. “Hey. It’s Medea, isn’t it?”

Medea let out a soft groan from between her lips as she nodded. “I would say that I’m at your service,” she croaked. “But you seem to be rather more at mine at present.”

“Where does it hurt?” Sunset asked. “I take it your aura’s broken?”

Again, Medea nodded. “It hurts … everywhere, more or less. Which might be a good thing. If there was anywhere I couldn’t feel, that might be rather more worrying.” She groaned, more softly. “My … my teammates…”

“Right,” Sunset said. “Right, I’ll go check on them.”

She stood up. Weiss had her scroll out now, holding it one hand as she kept hold of Myrtenaster in the other.

“Professor Goodwitch?” she asked.

“I hope this is important, Miss Schnee,” Professor Goodwitch said. “As you can see—”

“Yes, Professor, that’s why I’m calling,” Weiss said. “Sunset and I are at—” She was interrupted by the roaring of the dragon as it flew directly overhead. Weiss flinched, half-ducking down as it obscured the stars above them before turning away.

More droplets of that black ooze, that grimm essence that somehow produced more juvenile grimm from … from themselves, fell like rain down on the street.

“We are…” Weiss tore her eyes away from the pools of grimm ooze, looking upwards instead. “We are…”

A boarbatusk began to emerge from out of a nearby pool. Sunset drove Soteria downwards into its neck before it had even finished emerging. The half-formed boarbatusk, its legs and lower jaw still invisible, let out a muffled squeal, shook the visible part of its body, and then … and then turned back into the pool of ichorous black substance that lapped against the toes of Sunset’s boots.

Sunset took a step back, closer to Medea once again, and watched as another grimm — a beowolf this time — began to emerge from out of the pool, the black gooey substance contracting as the grimm appeared.

This time, Sunset let it come, let it fully emerge and show itself before she ran it clean through the chest with her sword.

Gratifyingly, it turned to ashes.

“Don’t bother killing them before they’ve come out,” Sunset told Weiss. “They just go back into the pool and then come out again as something else.”

“Miss Shimmer?” Professor Goodwitch asked from out of the scroll.

“There are grimm behind the walls, Professor,” Weiss explained. “That large grimm is dropping — or it's dripping — some sort of black substance down onto the ground, and grimm are coming out of it. There’s another one over there!”

Sunset saw it. It was emerging right in front of her after all. This was a big puddle, and a large grimm was emerging from out of it in consequence, an ursa. A small ursa by the standards of the breed, a juvenile obviously, but an ursa nonetheless.

It didn’t rise out of the black depths so much as it clawed its way out of it, so that it seemed less like it was being formed and more that the ursa had always been there somewhere, trapped beneath, and was now taking the opportunity to escape.

Once again, Sunset let it come out all the way, shaking as it came, its claws making marks in the concrete of the road. It opened its mouth to let out a wide roar of anger.

Sunset charged, firing a couple of low-powered blasts of magic from her fingertips, not aiming to kill the ursa so much as to distract it and save magic in the process. The little blasts of power burst on the ursa’s bony head, the only parts of bone on its whole body, striking close to the eyes, blinding and disorienting it as Sunset rushed in.

Swift turns and dainty twirls on toes were more Pyrrha’s style than Sunset’s; Sunset was near as heavy-footed as Jaune by comparison, but she would give it a go regardless, turning as she charged, not twirling — as cool as that might have looked — but turning aside and skidding the last few feet, past the ursa’s head and jaws before she hewed down on its neck with Soteria.

She severed the head in a single stroke, and the body flopped down and started turning to ashes immediately.

“Where are you, Miss Schnee?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Professor,” Weiss said, with a touch of sharpness in her voice. “Sorry, Professor, we’re at Germane Street; there’s been an airship crash; there are … Sunset, how many people are injured?”

Sunset searched the wreckage, picking her way through the debris and detritus of the shattered airship — pausing to deal with another boarbatusk that had just emerged, squealing, out of a pool of black ooze — that lay strewn across the road to find the other three members of Team JAMM. Jason lay underneath a pole, a metal pole of some sort to which he was fastened by a line. He was unconscious, his eyes closed, but apart from that, Sunset couldn't see any visible injuries, although that was no guarantee that he didn't have any injuries lying out of sight just below the surface.

Sunset telekinetically grabbed the pole, her hands and the metal object both glowing green, as she lifted it off Jason and set it down with a thunk on the road beside him.

She hoped that was the right thing to do; it didn't look to be stopping any bleeding on his part, and it couldn't be healthy for someone with no aura to have a heavy weight pressing down on them like that, could it?

There was a noise from inside: a rustling at first, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps; it was coming from one of the buildings on the side of the road, what had been a business of some kind, although when the crashing airship had smashed through the front, it had also smashed through the sign that would have identified what kind of place this had been. Sunset's nightvision spell allowed her eyes to peer into the gloom within and identify work tables and motorised tools — and something shambling out of the darkness towards them.

That something, or someone, turned out to be another member of Team JAMM, Meleager if Sunset recalled their names correctly, shaking dust out of his hair and off his shoulders, his flame-coloured cape trailing dirt and splinters after him like a wet dog dripping on the carpet. He was swaying a little, but he was on his feet, and moving quite steadily considering what he'd just been through and the state of his teammates.

He blinked. "You … you're Pyrrha's teammate, aren't you? Sunset … Glimmer?"

"Sunset Shimmer, but close," Sunset replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be fine," Meleager said. "How are the others?"

"Jason's unconscious," Sunset said. "Medea is conscious, but her aura's broken; other things might be broken too; she'll be out of it for a while."

"And Atalanta?" Meleager asked. "Atalanta?"

"No need to shout," Atalanta snapped. "You'll bring the grimm down on us." She winced in pain.

Both Sunset and Meleager rushed towards her; she was the furthest from Medea, where Sunset had begun; she must have thrown the farthest by the crash, along with the most distant, scattered parts of the ship's debris. She was sitting up — Sunset guessed that she had pulled herself up — against the wall of a taxidermist's, sitting with the top of her head resting against the glass of the window, the window in which were displayed a small menagerie of stuffed animals, and even a few fake grimm like old Fluffy.

Jason and Medea had both looked outwardly unharmed, though all their aura had gone. The same could not be said of Atalanta: her leg was broken, at least, twisted in an unnatural-looking direction, there was no bone sticking out of her skin, but that was about the only good thing that could be said about her condition.

"Atalanta!" Meleager cried as he rushed to her side. He knelt down beside her, taking one of her hands in his. "Atalanta, are you alright?"

Atalanta gave him an incredulous look.

"Right, right, yes, stupid question, sorry," Meleager muttered. He looked up at Sunset. "We need to get her to a doctor."

"I know; we're arranging it," Sunset told him. "Weiss, we've got three in need of medical attention."

"Right," Weiss said. "Professor, we have three casualties from the airship crash; they can't move on their own, and we don't have the ability to move them all a long distance. Can you send an ambulance to get them?"

"Of course, Miss Schnee; I'll arrange it at once," Professor Goodwitch replied. "I take it they cannot protect themselves."

"One might, somehow," Weiss said. "The others, definitely not."

"Then protect them until the ambulance arrives," Professor Goodwitch instructed her.

"Yes, Professor," Weiss said. "And what about the grimm?"

"We'll just have to deal with that as best we can," Professor Goodwitch answered. "At least we don't have anything else to focus on in the city. Take care, Miss Schnee, and take care of your charges too."

"Will do, Professor," Weiss said, before Professor Goodwitch hung up on her.

"Jason," Atalanta grunted. "Jason is alive, then?"

"Yes," Sunset said. "Yes, he's out cold, but he's alive."

Atalanta closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm glad," she murmured. "It gladdens my heart." She took a breath, her chest rising and falling.

"You shouldn't speak," Meleager told her. "You should save your strength."

"You are not my master to command me," Atalanta told him. "I'll say what I like and spend my strength however I wish."

"I know that," Meleager replied, sounding a little hurt. "But—"

A slight grin, given a somewhat rictus quality by the pain, appeared on Atalanta's face. "I thought you liked that about me."

"I do, normally!" Meleager cried. "But in the circumstances—"

"Medea," Atalanta called. "Speak to me again, so that I know you haven't died since I heard you last."

Medea groaned. "Be nice to Meleager, for the love of … for the love of love itself, and of Psyche of the swift shafts, for he speaks only out of care for you."

"Precisely!" Meleager shouted. "Thank you, Medea, fair judge of hearts. Would you be this mean to me if I was the one who was dying?"

"I'm not dying!" Atalanta snapped. She glanced up at Sunset. "Am I dying?"

"No," Sunset said. "At least, I hope not, although you should probably take advice and not struggle too much." She paused, and said to Meleager. "How are you still on your feet when the rest of your team is … like this?"

"Because he's a cheat," grunted Atalanta.

"My semblance, Inner Fire, allows me to recharge a small amount of my own aura, even after it's broken, so long as I have the will to keep going," Meleager explained. "It's not a lot — I'm in the red, and if this were a tournament match, I'd be eliminated by depletion — but it keeps me on my feet … so long as I want to be."

"Impressive," Sunset said.

Meleager shrugged. "If a grimm broke my aura, it could probably kill me before I had a chance to recharge."

"All the same, it's pretty impressive," Sunset told him. "I wish I—"

The dragon roared, drowning out the sound of Sunset's voice, and all other sounds in the city too. Sunset looked up, but she couldn't see the grimm; it wasn't—

The dragon passed overhead, still roaring, seeming to almost glide on the wings spread out on either side.

A single drop of black goo dripped down from the dragon's torso and landed in the middle of the street, just beyond Atalanta, Meleager, and Sunset.

Sunset stepped closer to it, keeping her eyes on it, waiting.

A juvenile beowolf emerged from out of the pool.

Sunset ran it through the chest with Soteria and watched it dissolve into ashes.

"What?" Meleager gasped. "What was that?"

"We don't know," Weiss said softly. "Except it seems this grimm has the ability to … well, you saw it for yourself; it drips. And what it drips becomes new, young grimm."

"Gods," Meleager muttered, shuddering.

"We did it, then?" Atalanta muttered. She winced. "We lured that beast away from Amity."

"That was your plan?" Weiss demanded. "You wanted to bring it here?"

"We meant to have it follow us out to sea," Meleager replied. "We couldn't take the risk that it would destroy Amity Arena; we promised Pyrrha that we would protect Lady Nikos, and the ambassador, Lord Wong."

Sunset briefly looked up, although she could not see the Amity Arena from here; the buildings rose too steeply on either side of the street; they almost seemed to lean inwards, towards each other, reducing the avenue for the passage of moonlight to a narrow slit between the teetering rooftops.

Probably an optical illusion, but it felt real enough, and she could not see Amity Arena.

But Lady Nikos was up there still, and little doubt that she was not alone up there. Sunset was glad to hear that she was still safe; for all that had passed between them, it would have been hard on Pyrrha to lose her mother, and Sunset had a great deal of respect for Lady Nikos in her own right. Had she perished, were she yet to perish, then Sunset's heart would have grieved it.

As it was, with the dragon out of the way, Sunset had some hope that her ladyship would be out of danger for the rest of the night.

"That's all very well and good," Weiss said, sounding less enthused. "But now, there is an enormous grimm loose in the skies over the city, it's disgorging other grimm down into the city, and there isn't anything we can do about it!"

"Not our intent," Medea murmured.

"Nevertheless, it's what you've done!" Weiss snapped.

"We have done our best, and we have paid for it," Meleager declared, getting up, though he remained at Atalanta's side. "Should we have stood on the Arena and waited for the dragon to devour it and all aboard so that at least it would not trouble Vale for a little while longer?"

"Weiss didn't mean that, did you, Weiss?" Sunset asked heavily. "There's no point or purpose in our fighting one another when there are grimm behind the walls to fight. We can acknowledge that things are less than ideal without apportioning blame or pointing fingers."

Weiss hesitated for a moment, still and silent as an ice sculpture. Eventually, after a few seconds had passed, she coughed into one hand. "I, of course, do not wish death upon any of those still sheltering in Amity. It's as Sunset said, things are not ideal, though that's no one's fault. Except for the fault of the grimm itself." She paused once more. "Did you call it a dragon? Have you seen such a grimm before?"

"No," Meleager said. "Nothing like it, but—"

"There are bones of a creature called a dragon in a museum in Mistral," Sunset said. "It looks very similar to this monster."

Meleager nodded. "Precisely."

"No sense of how to kill it, then?" Weiss asked.

"If we knew that," Atalanta said, "we would have tried, at least."

"There must be a way," Meleager said. "Mighty grimm have been slain by heroes in the past, and many great tales are told of the slayings."

"Do those tales give details?" asked Weiss.

"I fear not," murmured Medea. "I am afraid to say that, over time, certain aspects of our stories became somewhat mired in formula. The deaths of grimm are often written in a very similar fashion."

"That might not be formula, but truth," Sunset suggested. "There are only so many ways to kill grimm. If I cut the head off every beowolf to come out of those pools, it's not formula; it's just that that's a very good way of killing them."

"It does show somewhat a lack of imagination on your part, swordbearer," Medea murmured.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "What is this formulaic description?"

"Cutting off the head," Meleager said. "Or a large spear thrown to the chest, particularly to a weak spot in the creature's armour; it penetrates between the plates of bone, and the grimm dies."

"As simple as that?" asked Weiss.

"No, it's not simple at all; there's usually a lot of effort involved to get to that point," Meleager said. "The grimm do not reveal their weak points lightly."

"This dragon doesn't look armoured enough to have a weak point," Sunset said. "And it's neck seems too thick to be cut through."

Although Ruby could do it, especially if Jaune were charging her up beforehand.

"Perhaps," Weiss said. "If we were to attack into its—"

She stopped, holding up her free hand to quiet all other voices.

"Listen," she whispered ever so softly.

Listen Sunset did, her equine ears pricking up atop her head as she listened very carefully.

She could hear, as Weiss had heard before her, growling, snarling, snuffling, the sounds of prowling grimm as they had been unleashed upon the streets of Vale by the dragon.

They were coming from the bottom of the street. No, from the top. They were coming from both ends.

Atalanta grimaced and fumbled with one hand for the bow that had fallen just out of reach.

Sunset mouthed Weiss' name and gestured for her to take the top of the street, while she moved as quietly as she could past Meleager and the injured Atalanta towards the bottom of the road. She sheathed Soteria across her back and slung Sol Invictus off her shoulder.

Sunset cocked the rifle and raised it to her shoulder, conscious of Meleager moving behind her.

She waited. She could still hear the grimm, although she couldn't see them. She thought that they were coming from the left, not from the right, and so she turned that way, rifle barrel pointing outwards, ready to fire.

They came from the right first, a trio of small young boarbatusks skidding around the corner, trotters tapping on the tarmac. Sunset turned, but Meleager was a little swifter than she and unleashed his flamethrower on them first, a jet of fire erupting out of his gauntlet to consume the leading boarbatusk in flame. The other two squealed as they shied away from the fire, and Sunset shot one in the head.

The second, she skewered on her bayonet as it leapt at her.

Then the beowolves came in, from the left, as Sunset had expected they would; from the roaring, she thought that they were attacking from the other side of the street as well; she could hear Weiss' rapier blasting dust at them.

It was far from the hardest fight that Sunset had ever fought; there were not so many beowolves, and they were only young, no armour to speak of, their bony skulls the only patches of white on otherwise black bodies. Those same black bodies pressed all around her for a moment, a mass of oily, greasy blackness illuminated by the muzzle flashes of Sol Invictus as Sunset fired and fired again, and fired a third shot and emptied the cylinder of her rifle before thrusting with her bayonet and laying about her with the butt of her rifle like a club. The claws of the beowolves lashed out, slashing at Sunset's recently regained aura, but one by one, Sunset took care of them all, and without any great expenditure of magic either.

Or without losing her aura a second time.

Sunset turned back to see if Weiss needed any help, just in time to see Weiss skewer the last of the young beowolves upon the tip of her rapier. She delicately shook the ash off it as the grimm dissolved.

"I think we might have done some good," Weiss declared. "Better those grimm should pick a fight with us than with others less equipped to deal with them."

The dragon let out a low and almost mournful hooting sound as it flew overhead, passing above them before turning back, wheeling in the air and passing once more in their direction.

And it was getting lower too, descending like the crashing airship of Team JAMM, coming down and looming larger and larger as it came down, following the line of the road as it pointed like an arrow towards them.

Sunset dropped Sol Invictus, the rifle clattering to the ground beside her, as she raised both hands and conjured up a shield of magic protecting her and everyone behind her. A wall of black glyphs, each one obscuring the view ahead somewhat, appeared before the shield; Sunset didn't need to look over her shoulder to picture Weiss conjuring them up with her semblance.

Whether shield or semblance would stop the dragon was a question to be asked, but what choice did they have but to try and stand in its way? It wasn't as though they could get Team JAMM anywhere safer in time.

The dragon landed heavily upon the ground, breaking the tarmac of the road beneath its weight, its claws digging into the ground as it skidded to a halt. Its tail lashed out from side to side, sweeping through the shops that lined the street and gutting them, knocking down the insides and doubtless smashing whatever lay within.

Eventually, the dragon stopped, finally halting its skidding progress, the dust of its landing and approach settling around it as it stood upon the broken ground and looked down upon them. On the end of its long neck, its head — such a head, such a great head, larger than a Skyray; in fact, large enough to swallow such an airship whole, to say nothing of a huntress — was raised high above Sunset's shield and Weiss' glyph barrier.

It didn't drip; no puddles of ichorous black goo emerged from its immense bulk to scatter young grimm out across Vale.

Can it control it? Can it stop doing it, if it wants to?

The dragon looked down upon them. Its red eyes burned brightly in the dark of night.

Sunset's breath caught in her throat. She tried to look away from the burning red eyes, maybe … maybe she could find that weak spot that the Mistralians had mentioned, the weak spots that big grimm so often had, supposedly.

She couldn't see anything; there was no chink in the dragon's armour because it hardly had any armour in the first place; it was all just black flesh, speckled with little plates of bone here and there, concentrated on the shoulders.

But then … what about … what about underneath the bone? Since it had so little armour, then perhaps the armour that it did have was concealing something. Like that one particular patch, on its chest, a plate of white bone standing solitary, just below the right shoulder, above where the dragon's foreleg would have been if it had had forelegs. A plate of bone standing proud, on the breast. Could it be that beneath that, if they could get it off or shatter it, then … then what? A heart? A grimm heart? Was it really plausible that the means to kill such an immense grimm would be lurking behind a single plate of bone?

In the circumstances, can we afford not to give it a try?

In the circumstances, how likely is it that we'll be given the chance?

The dragon laughed, or it certainly sounded like a laugh, a sawing laugh, a back and forth sound that grated against the grain on Sunset's ears. It laughed as it regarded them and the obstacles that Sunset and Weiss had thrown up in its path, and Sunset could not help but think that it found them pathetic.

The dragon opened its mouth.

There was a shriek, a shrill sound cutting through the air as another grimm approached, a griffon with a claw missing on one toe. It shrieked loudly as it swooped through the air, landing on top of one of the buildings on the left-hand side of the street.

It kept on shrieking, bobbing its head up and down.

The dragon swung its own immense head in the direction of the griffon, grunting something at the smaller grimm.

The griffon leapt up and down, gesturing with its white head back eastwards, towards the walls of Vale.

The dragon made a sound that was hard to classify; neither roar nor growl perfectly fit what Sunset heard; the dragon's pitch rose and fell.

The griffon chirruped in reply.

The dragon let out a low hooting sound, then raised its head as a bellowing roar erupted out of it straight to the skies, a roar so loud that it made Sunset's ears — all four of them — hurt, a roar so loud, it was as if the dragon was trying not only to strike the moon and stars but move them with sheer volume out of their spheres.

The dragon spread its wings and took off, shattering the ground some more beneath its feet as it headed east, back towards the edge of Vale and towards the battle beyond it.

The griffon followed behind, tucked away beneath the dragon's wing, and as the two flew off, the dragon once more began to drip black ichor down upon the ground of Vale below it, black drops descending like a narrow band of rain sweeping across the city.

Sunset recovered her rifle and hastily reloaded, letting her shield collapse — Weiss' wall of glyphs likewise disappeared — as she began shooting the grimm as they appeared, emerging from the puddles the dragon had made.

She had just shot a boarbatusk, the last grimm to come out of the nearby puddles, when she heard the roaring sirens of an ambulance, before the vehicle itself screeched round the corner. It was a yellow vehicle, with blue lights flashing on top of the cab, and on the roof sat a young man, young enough to be another Beacon student, though Sunset didn't know his name, with a red bandana tied around his brow, a lamellar cuirass strapped across his chest, and a staff in his hand.

As the ambulance slowed to a stop, he leapt down off the room.

"Hey, guys," he said, as though he knew them.

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "Do we know you?"

"Apparently not," the boy muttered. "I'm Fuji Klein, the leader of Team Frappe."

Weiss and Sunset both stared at him.

"That doesn't mean anything to you, does it?" he asked. "I'm in your year, you know."

"Wait a second," Sunset said. "Are you the one who led the charge during the leadership exercise during the first semester? You attacked the grimm horde head on."

Fuji grinned. "That's me. I volunteered to escort this ambulance, though it looks like we got here just late enough, huh? It's safe to come out now, fellas!"

The ambulance doors opened, and two paramedics emerged.

"They're in good hands," Fuji assured her. "You don't need to hang around if you don't want to."

Sunset wasn't entirely sure that someone who had thought it was a good idea to meet the grimm horde head on was necessarily 'good hands,' or at least not necessarily the safest hands, but he had a point that they couldn't just hang around here all night getting nothing done.

"I'll stay with them," Meleager said. "They're my teammates; I can't just leave them."

Sunset glanced at him and nodded. "Okay then, take care and good luck. Look after them," she said to Fuji. "Weiss, we should get moving."

"Alright," Weiss murmured. "But where?"

"We're going to follow that dragon," Sunset said, "and kill any grimm it's spawned along the way."

Until they reached the walls of Vale.

Author's Note

The appearance of Fuji Klein here is a reference to the way in which I kind of forgot about other Beacon students in the 1st year outside of the core four teams (SAPR, YRBN, WWSR, BLBL) as the story went on. If you go back to the very early chapters, particularly 'Bargain', it's clear that the first year consists of a lot more than just those four, but then you get to the Breach and those sort of chapters and you could be forgiven for forgetting that... as I kind of did.

So, having a bit of fun with one of my mistakes there.

The Great Gate (New)

The Great Gate

The breeze had died down, and the Atlesian Colour of the Fourth Battalion was limp; the silk square hung down its metal pole as Trixie carried it rearwards. Occasionally, if she had to shift the way she held it, or if she had to pick up speed, then the standard would flutter gently for a second, though even then, it was too dark to really see the Atlesian gear and spear upon the grey background.

The five of them — the three original members of Team TTSS, Maud, and Rarity — were all alone out here, alone in the darkness, alone falling back.

Alone in terms of humans and faunus, at least.

The beowolf bounded out of the darkness, jaws snapping, a harsh bark ripping from its throat. It lunged at Trixie as though it recognised the colours and wanted the glory of devouring them, but the grimm only succeeded in slamming into one of Rarity's barriers.

Starlight growled wordlessly as she thrust Equaliser into its side, as deep as the weapon would go, burying the blade and a foot of the shaft in the black flesh.

Rarity's diamond barrier dissolved as she stepped forward with her fencing sabre, thrusting into the beowolf's exposed throat.

The beowolf that had squirmed upon the tip of Starlight's spear fell silent, its head lolling forwards as it died.

Starlight extracted her weapon as the grimm turned to ashes.

The five of them had all stopped now. Sunburst had a fire dust crystal set in the tip of his staff, but the intended use of such a crystal in such a staff was to start fires, not give light, and the soft red glow did little to illuminate the dark around them.

And so they stood, clustered around Trixie and the limp standard she held in her hand, turned outwards, peering into the dark.

Waiting.

No second beowolf emerged, no other grimm came roaring out of the darkness.

Still, they waited.

Starlight could hear her own breathing, because everyone else was being so quiet.

Two more beowolves leapt out at them, finally announcing their presence with roars and howls. One of them died in a cone of fire from Trixie's wand, consumed by the flames. The second was tackled by Maud, who wrapped her arms around its midriff and slammed it into the ground before bashing its head in with her fists.

Again, there was silence, but as the grimm had just proved, that was no guarantee that there were no more grimm around.

"How are there grimm here?" asked Sunburst, his voice trembling. "Aren't we behind the lines?"

"They must have slipped through cracks in the lines," Starlight replied. "Gaps that opened up when the line broke."

"So … so they could be anywhere?" Sunburst asked.

"Not in huge numbers, Sunburst," Trixie told him. "There are only a few of them, don't worry. Nothing we can't handle."

Sunburst glanced at her. "What makes you so sure?"

Trixie almost smiled, despite the circumstances. "Because if the grimm had gotten behind the lines, then our troops wouldn't be continuing to retreat, but you can hear the gunfire heading this way. Listen."

Starlight listened. She could hear the guns of the Atlesian main force, rifles and cannons mingling together; they were not so close as to seem near; they were distant, remote and removed from Team TTSS for now, but getting closer at a steady, gradual pace.

Trixie was right; if the grimm had slipped a substantial force behind the Atlesian line, then the battalions wouldn't be continuing to fall steadily backwards; they'd be fighting for their lives against grimm in front and behind.

Any grimm who were behind the main line must be few in number, small groups that had slipped through the cracks, through gaps between platoons and companies.

A case in point, besides those three beowolves, no more grimm had emerged out of the night to attack them yet.

"Let's keep moving," Trixie said. "We don't want to wait around here all night."

No one demurred from her instruction; they all started forwards — or backwards, depending on how you wanted to look at it — towards the lights that were their destination.

Right now, they were moving across open countryside, the fields and farms and pastures that lay behind the Green Line. They had already stumbled into an irrigation ditch, climbed fences — there'd been a bull on the other side of one of those fences, but Rarity's semblance had kept it at bay without them having to hurt it — and crashed through hedgerows. Luckily, the sheep weren't in any danger from the grimm.

They were moving through fields now, but the lights of Vale lay in front of them, a beacon guiding them in. Those lights — hopefully lights that people had forgotten to turn off rather than a sign that people were still home — belonged to the outskirts of Vale, to the parts of the city that had sprawled out past the walls. Once they got there, they could just follow the road to the gate, then through the gate, and then…

And then they would have done their duty.

"What will we do, once we reach safety in Vale?" asked Rarity. "If you don't mind me asking, darlings?"

Nobody leapt to reply, and in Starlight's case, at least, it was because she wasn't entirely sure of the answer.

They had been ordered to carry the colour to safety; that was all well and good, but Starlight had never been ordered to carry the colours to safety before, so the exact nature of what it involved was a little unclear.

Carry them to safety; it seemed simple enough, didn't it? It was simple enough, as far as it went, until you got into the question of what was safety.

Was anywhere really safe with that enormous grimm around? It wasn't as though they could put the standard on an Atlesian cruiser and call it safe. That had been proven already.

"We shall keep hold of it," Trixie declared. "Until the night is over, or the battle is. Trixie … Trixie isn't so sure that Vale is so safe that we could just put this flag down once we get to the gate, but on the other side of the wall, it will be safer than it is here." She paused. "And it will stay safe, with us, until the danger has passed and we can return it to Colonel Harper, with our compliments." Her voice rose and recovered some of its usual ebullience.

"And we shall receive the thanks and gratitude of the Fourth Battalion for this steadfast performance of our duty! The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrful Team Tsunami will be known and admired throughout the military!"

Starlight chuckled. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty good."

"I wish it were time for that already," Sunburst murmured. "And everything okay again, and taken care of."

"And all well," whispered Rarity. "In every sense."

A moment of silence fell amongst the group as they moved across the open, and presently empty, fields.

They hadn't seen any sign of Rainbow Dash or Blake since the grimm had broken through the line. In the chaos, and in the fact of their being given the colour to carry off, they had lost track of the pair of them. They were…

They were somewhere else on the battlefield, Starlight was sure of that.

"They'll be okay, wherever they are," she said. "Those two are as tough as a pair of old work boots. The ones with the steel toes."

"What a ghastly image to paint for reassurance," Rarity murmured. "Old steel-toed working boots, how ghastly; like something Applejack would wear." She glanced at Starlight, and smiled. "But thank you, all the same." Her gaze turned away, her eyes drawn upwards to the Amity Colosseum, that was moving away from Beacon, and from the ruined CCT tower, and over Vale.

Starlight had mixed feelings about the wisdom of that, considering that the giant grimm that had torn through their fleet and their battle line was in Vale right now, but it had been kind of exposed where it was.

And more importantly, it was still there. Ships had been lost, the Atlesian line had been overrun, the troops were retreating to the Red Line, the colours had been sent away to prevent their loss; Beacon tower had been destroyed.

But through all that, despite all that, they could look up at Amity Arena. It was still there, shining … actually, it wasn't shining so much right now; someone had turned off the lights.

But it was still there, and they could still see it.

Twilight, Applejack, Fluttershy, and Pinkie were all still there, still safe.

Though Rarity didn't know what had become of Rainbow or Blake, at least she could look up and see that her other friends were okay.

They kept on going, moving through the night, forming a guard of honour with Trixie and her standard in the centre. They were attacked along the way by a couple of other small groups of grimm — a lone ursa here, a couple of boarbatusks there, the grimm who had slipped through the cracks in the Atlesaian line as it retreated — but it was nothing that the five of them couldn't handle. Most of the horde — the hordes, plural — was or were being held off to the east, where the battalions were fighting in part to give them time to get the colours away.

Starlight wondered briefly how Team SABR was doing with the Battalion Colour.

They were a good team, even if they weren't always the most likeable team in Atlas Academy, and she had no doubt they would get the job done, just as TTSS would.

The five of them, for their part, were emerging out of the churned fields and empty pasture and entering into the furthest, unprotected parts of the city of Vale, the parts that had grown out beyond the safety of the walls that lay further on down the road. As Team TTSS retreated, they found the road running east-west towards Freedom Gate, they found that the rural emptiness shaded into suburban cosiness around them. Two-storey houses sprung up out of the ground to line the roads, with recycling bins in a rainbow of colours set outside each house, or most of them at least. Low stone walls or wooden fences marked the boundaries of each property, with bushes or flowers growing up against and over the demarcations, whilst well-manicured lawns or rockeries or even more flowers adorned front gardens. Cars, small and round and painted in a cornucopia of colours, sat parked on the roadside, constricting the space for other vehicles.

A herd of goats, big and white, with curling horns and expansive coats, frolicked through the streets with wild abandon. They leapt over the walls and fences into the gardens, or else, they balanced on the walls themselves and walked along them like circus tightrope walkers. They chewed the hedges and devoured the flowers, they climbed on cars and knocked over bins, or simply wandered here and there without restraint. Starlight even thought she saw one of them get up on its hind legs and ring someone's doorbell before running away.

"Alright for some, isn't it?" Starlight asked.

"I wonder how they got here," Sunburst said.

"They must have escaped from a farm or something," Starlight replied. "Maybe someone left the gate unlocked when they rushed to evacuate. Maybe some soldiers broke through their fence as they fell back. They must have gotten out somehow." She shook her head. "And they're not on the menu. Lucky guys have got nothing to worry about."

"Just keep them away from Trixie's cape," Trixie said. She hoisted the Atlesian Colour a little higher into the air. "And the flag, obviously. What would we tell Colonel Harper if we saved the standard from the grimm only to let it get eaten by escaped goats?"

"Maybe she'd see the funny side," suggested Maud in a deadpan voice.

"I doubt it, darling," Rarity said dryly. "Mostly because when it comes to letting a work of art be devoured by ravenous, loutish, brazen, smelly creatures, I'm afraid there really isn't a funny side to be seen."

Shooing the goats away slowed them down a little bit, but fortunately not by very much, and they were able to continue on their way without losing the colours to any caprine jaws or suffering any sartorial disasters — although the goats did seem eager to try their luck on Trixie's starry cape, much to the displeasure of their team leader.

But a colour guard that had fended off grimm was more than a match for a few curious and possibly hungry — although the havoc being wreaked on people's gardens suggested none of them were exactly starving — goats. They kept going, capes and flag and Rarity's sparkling skirt intact, and soon, they had left Vale's newest immigrants behind as they followed the road towards the gate.

And as they followed the road, the closer they got to the Valish walls, the more people that they saw, people crowding the sides of the road or filling up the streets, making it harder for TTSS to get through. They were standing around, not idly exactly, but motionlessly. There wasn't the sense of bored languor, of summer party relaxation, that would have led Starlight to call it idle; rather, there was a fearful energy in the air, a nervousness in the way that so many in the crowd twitched at the approaching gunfire, watched the skies with a furtive anxiousness like Vacuan meerkats in a nature documentary, heads turning in unison to follow the Atlesian airships streaking overhead.

There was fear in their eyes too, as they looked at Team TTSS, regarding them as the harbingers of a doom, in every sense, that had or was about to come upon them.

"Come on!" Trixie cried. Still carrying the standard, she got up onto the roof of a red sedan. "People of Vale!" she shouted. "The Green Line has fallen. Atlesisn troops are falling back this way with the grimm on their heels! You have to get to safety behind the Red Line immediately; it's not safe here! Follow us; Team Tsunami will lead the way!"

She was met with sullen silence, and a motionless crowd that did not follow, but only got thicker and thicker, harder to push through, the closer they came to the Red Line.

The Freedom Gate was the largest gate into Vale, the main gate, used by both road and rail lines, for which reason it was sometimes also known simply as the Great Gate; it was, as the name suggested, very broad, as wide as an Atlesian cruiser from bow to stern, a rectangle cut in the grey wall. The walls of Vale, though not as formidable-looking as the Colton Walls that surrounded Mantle, were tall and dark, especially now, with guns mounted atop the walls and set within, their barrels poking out of the barbettes along the ground and partway up the wall. Searchlights were mounted on top of the defences, their beams shining downwards upon the great crowd — some Valish soldiers in green, even a few Valish vehicles, and a huge number of civilians wearing t-shirts and jeans or hastily pulled on coats or even dressing gowns and slippers — who had gathered in front of the green gate.

For the gate was shut.

"Sir, it's Cadet Lulamoon," des Voeux informed him. "She says it's urgent."

"Put her on," Ironwood commanded him. "Lulamoon, do you still have the colours?"

"Yes, sir," Lulamoon answered him at once. "We've got the Atlesian Colour, anyway; Team Sabre has the Battalion Colour, they went a different direction to us. Sir, we're at the Freedom Gate, and it's shut."

"Closed?" Ironwood repeated. "Any indication on how long it's been closed for?"

"Trixie isn't sure, sir," Lulamoon admitted, in that slightly affected way she had that Ironwood forgave because she was a good enough huntress to forgive it. "But there are a lot of people stuck out here, trailing back into the suburbs. They're mostly civilians, but some Valish soldiers too. I think the gate must have been closed for a while. Trixie tried shouting up at the troops on top to open up, but they didn't respond."

"Understood," Ironwood said, his voice calm. "I'm afraid you'll have to sit tight while I sort this out."

"Aye aye, sir," Lulamoon answered.

"Ironwood out," Ironwood said. "Des Voeux, patch me through to the squadron commanders and get me Colonel Sky Beak on the line now!"

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux replied.

Close the gate? To close the gate already? More than already, if what Lulamoon said was true — and Ironwood had no reason to doubt her word on this — then it wasn't just that the gate had been shut but that quite possibly it had never been opened. Valish soldiers? That sounded like the troops that had routed from the Green Line when the grimm assault first started, not to mention the civilians living on the wrong side of the Red Line.

Ironwood could understand closing the gate in a panic as the grimm drew near; he might quibble on the exact timing, but he couldn't say that he didn't understand it, but with the grimm still a way off, and being held back by his forces even as they retreated, why keep the gate closed for so long? As it was, it was quite possible that it couldn't be opened in time to let everyone through before it had to be closed again as the grimm really did draw near.

Was this more malice, some last trace of the Siren's influence upon the Valish Defence Forces, or was it simple incompetence resulting from the confusion of this night? Ironwood hoped that he would soon find out.

The sound of gunfire crackled over the comms and into the bridge of the Valiant.

"This is Colonel Harper reporting, sir."

"Buller here, sir."

"Pulleine here, sir."

"Something going on, sir?" Harper asked. "Is the dragon coming back?"

"The dragon is currently circling in Vale," Ironwood informed them. "It hasn't attacked Amity, and it isn't showing any sign of returning to the battlefield at this time." He didn't add that two Skybolts had already launched an attack on the dragon with anti-Titan missiles and had as little luck with them as any of the rest of their airships. No sense in bringing down the mood even further. Once they heard about the gate, things would be bad enough. "No, I'm afraid this is something else. I wanted you all to hear Colonel Sky Beak of the Valish when he joins us—"

"He's responding now, sir," des Voeux informed him.

Sky Beak cleared his throat. "General Ironwood," he said. "You wish to speak to me."

"Colonel," Ironwood said. "I have my three squadron commanders on the line: Colonel Buller, Colonel Harper, and Major Pulleine."

"A pleasure," Sky Beak murmured. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Colonel, one of my student teams has just reached the Freedom Gate," Ironwood told him. "They were sent to the rear with one of the standards of the Fourth Battalion. They've informed me that the gate is closed, and judging by the number of people — civilians and Valish soldiers — stranded on the far side of the gate and wall, it appears to have been closed for some time. Are you aware of this?"

"Yes, General Ironwood, I gave the order," Sky Beak said.

Of all the responses that Ironwood had considered, he had not expected Sky Beak to so simply admit not only responsibility but also direct culpability for the event. "You ordered the gate to be closed."

"Yes, General," Sky Beak said, plainly and without apology. "Councillor Emerald had ordered the evacuation of the city beyond the Red Line, but he also tasked me with the defence of Vale, and I took the view that we couldn't afford vulnerabilities in our defence, not even for a moment. I ordered every gate to be closed: Freedom Gate, Fall Gate, Southgate, Coastgate, they've all been closed at my command."

"And what about all the people stuck on the wrong side of the wall?" Harper demanded. "Your people, your troops, and you're just hanging them out to dry?"

"Don't suggest that I do this lightly," Sky Beak snapped. "But there are many more people behind the walls than in front of it; if I were to keep the gates open so as to try and let everyone through and a grimm got in … Councillor Emerald ordered me to defend the city, and to defend the city may require sacrifices. It's unfortunate, but … unavoidable."

"Your Councillor wanted them to evacuate to safety," Harper pointed out.

"Councillor Emerald is currently unable to exercise his responsibilities," Sky Beak pointed out. "I've spoken to the other members of the Council; they were all in agreement with me as to what needed to be done."

That was no great surprise to Ironwood. Take a group of frightened and confused people in the middle of the night and ask them what to do in a crisis, they would naturally defer to the judgement of the professional military man who seemed to know what he was talking about.

"You didn't mention this when we spoke last," Ironwood said.

"I'm not obliged to, General Ironwood," Sky Beak pointed out. "I don't follow your orders."

"No, but coordination could only help us to defend this city," Ironwood replied. "If I'd known your intentions, I could have had my airships start flying people over the wall. You could have done that yourself."

"I don't have the pilots," Sky Beak responded. "I told you, General, my forces are shattered. They've been through … I don't know what they've been through, I'm not sure they know what they've been through, but I have battalions in which one man in ten is fit for duty, if that; I have officers I can't reach and officers who can't find their men; I have soldiers who have routed and who will spread their own low morale if I let them through the gate amongst the defenders, and I can't call on the police for support because the police have taken heavy losses of their own — partly at the hands of the military! I can't properly man the wall, and if the grimm get through the wall, then gods help Vale because my forces won't be able to." He paused. "My only hope, the city's only hope, is to trust in the strength of the wall itself — and of the gates. We may lose everything beyond, but at least there'll be a city called Vale left at the end of it."

There was a moment of silence in the CIC, and from the squadron commanders. Nobody had it in them to condemn Sky Beak; he had been dealt a rotten hand, and if they might not have played the cards in quite the same way, there was no desire from anyone to rush to judgement. He'd been given a job to do, and he was trying to do it, to the best of his ability.

Only one thing did inspire a touch of judgement from Ironwood. "You could have told me, Colonel. You should have told me."

"I thought you'd object," Sky Beak admitted. "I didn't want you to drop a force on Freedom Gate the way you did on our headquarters."

Ironwood didn't dignify that with a response. "If I were to start using my Skyrays to airlift civilians over the wall, would you have any objection?"

"Not at all," Sky Beak said. "In fact, I'd welcome it. I don't want these people to die; I just don't want them to kill all of Vale, either."

"Hmm," Ironwood murmured. "I hope you don't mind that I won't thank you for finally being straight with me."

"Quite understandable, General," Sky Beak said.

"Goodbye, Colonel," Ironwood said, motioning with one hand for des Voeux to cut him off. Once he had done so, Ironwood took a moment before he addressed his officers. "So, there you have it. I'm afraid you're all retreating towards a wall with no way through, and our airlift capacity is likely to be taxed by trying to evacuate the civilians over the wall, meaning—"

"Meaning that we'll have to hold off the grimm until the evacuation is complete before we even have a chance of being airlifted ourselves, sir," Harper said evenly.

"That's correct, Harper," Ironwood said. "Thoughts?"

There was a pause, a quiet only broken by the sounds of gunfire over Harper and Pulleine's comms as the troops of the Fourth and Third — and the First, although with Buller commanding from an airship that couldn't be heard — held off the grimm pursuit.

"It would have been better if the Valish had told us sooner, sir," Pulleine said. "I'm afraid this may come as a blow to morale, which isn't too high as it is."

"But it'll be done, sir," Harper added. "They'll grumble, moan, and curse the Valish, but they'll do it regardless. Are we to stop retreating?"

"No, not yet," Ironwood replied. "Continue to fall back until you reach the city limits, then establish yourselves amongst the buildings, barricade the streets, anything that you can do to establish a new defensive position. Hold the grimm back until…" He paused. He suspected that the grimm would not continue to attack for much longer, given what was going on at Beacon right now. Either Salem would soon have the Relic in her possession, in which case, Vale would be meaningless to her, or — hopefully — her attempt to seize the Relic would have been stopped, and she'd have missed her chance. Either way, there would be no point in continuing to press an attack that had only ever been a grand diversion.

Of course, it could be that even if she got the Relic — and even moreso if she didn't — that Salem would continue to press the attack regardless because destroying Vale was something desirable to her. That was entirely possible, but at this point, his hope was that once she either got what she wanted or she couldn't get it, then she would withdraw, if only to conserve her grimm.

If not, if she continued to attack, then this battle would be a whole lot harder.

"Until they decide they've had enough or the evacuation is complete and we can start airlifting your infantry," Ironwood said. "How are you fixed for ammunition?"

"Retreating has made resupply difficult, sir," Harper told him. "We're short on shells, missiles, and rockets; and most of my infantry only have a couple of magazines left per soldier. It'll be even harder to resupply once we start using all our airships to taxi civilians over the wall."

"Then we'll land the supply ships themselves," Ironwood said. "They'll set down just beyond the outskirts of Vale, and you can resupply directly from them; once you've got everything you need, the ships will take off, and as Colonel Harper says, you'll have to make do from that point until the evacuation is complete. Air units are to support the front line, of course, but I also want a second line in reserve in case the grimm decide to go for Vale; we want to prevent any aerial grimm from getting over the wall. From what Colonel Sky Beak just said, it doesn't seem as though we can expect the Valish anti-air defences to be working at full capacity."

"Has anything Valish been working properly tonight?" Buller asked, prompting a chuckle from Pulleine.

"Valish backstabbing has been getting a good workout," Harper muttered.

"That'll do, Colonel," Ironwood murmured. It was one thing to snigger at Valish incompetence — if telling themselves that they were better than the flat-footed Valish kept Atlesian morale up, then Ironwood would welcome it — and another to step into outright rancour. "They've been through a lot tonight."

"Right, sir, they've all gone mad, and we mustn’t mock the afflicted," Harper said dryly. "But I hope they remember this next time they want to sneer at us for being too militarised. In fact, after tonight, I hope they remember to keep their mouths shut for a while."

Oz would probably tell me that these actions by the Valish military are why it's a good idea to separate out huntsmen and soldiers, Ironwood thought. He could hear the old man's voice, 'What would have happened, James, if it had been you the Siren had afflicted?'

But Ironwood's mind would be the only place he would hear such words, now that Ozpin was dead.

Well, until a new Oz appeared, at least, depending on how much he had of the old man in him.

"Take your own advice, Colonel, keep some of your feelings to yourself," Ironwood instructed her. "We are still allies, after all."

"Yes, sir," Harper said softly. "Apologies, sir."

"That said," Ironwood added, "once we have saved the people of Vale from the indifference of their own government, I won't begrudge any officer or soldier who wishes to enjoy the bragging rights for a while." He paused. "I know that this battle has not developed as we would have wished; I'm sure that the troops are tired and that morale is not as high as it was. Make sure they understand that they've already worked miracles and that they're only being asked to hold out until we can get the civilians to safety, after which it will be their turn to put a wall between them and the grimm. Tell them that they've done so much already, they can certainly do this too. Good luck, everyone."

The Beacon and Haven students entered Vale in a cluster; what had been a spread out group with a little width bunched up as they moved from the rural outskirts to the streets of the city itself. The street lights were still on, lighting up the suburban houses with their gardens and painted doors, the high street shops and the cars parked on the street. There was no sound but the footsteps of the huntsmen and huntresses, their snatches of conversation as they headed towards the looming walls of Vale. At least, that was the only human sound at first; there were animal noises too; Ruby thought that she could hear a fox prowling amongst the bins and even catch sight of its bushy tail. She could hear birds of some kind chattering to one another. But she couldn't hear any people who weren't a part of their group, weren't students who had fought together and now entered Vale together, for the part of Vale they had entered was empty and abandoned. For a moment, as they walked down the street, between the parked cars and the pools of light made by the street lamps, Ruby was reminded of Mountain Glenn, the empty city abandoned to time.

Fortunately, there were fewer bodies.

What there were, driving away all memories of Mountain Glenn as the huntsmen and huntresses began to move deeper into this part of Vale, was people. A lot of people. An astonishing number of people, people waiting, people fretting, people watching the skies, people staring at the walls, people who looked as though they'd just got out of bed without even time to get dressed. So many people, filling the streets, blocking the streets, what were they all doing here?

"These people do know there's a grimm attack, right?" asked Nora. "I mean, this isn't the time for a street party."

"I don't think these people are having a party," Ren said softly.

"Then what are they all just standing around for?" Nora demanded. "Or at least, why aren't they standing around on the other side of the wall?"

Ruby was wondering the same thing, and wondering if it might be best to just ask someone about it, rather than just asking the question of the air and hoping for a response. After all, these people hopefully knew why they were just standing around like this, otherwise … well, otherwise, it would be kinda stupid of them to just be standing around like this, wouldn't it? There had to be a reason for it, and hopefully a good reason too.

They didn't all look especially talkative, she had to admit; some of them were giving the students funny looks, or dirty looks as though they smelled, shrinking away from them as the huntsmen and huntresses came to a stop, standing as still as all the people out on the street, waiting for something that Ruby didn't know, and doubted that anyone else knew either, just waiting.

Waiting because they couldn't press on and leave all these people behind them, between them and the grimm.

"Come on, move!" Violet Valeria shouted. "Move, you bunch of lemons!"

Nobody moved. A couple of them glanced in Violet's direction, but none of them actually moved, apart from perhaps a little bit of shuffling of feet, a couple of people moving closer to one another. It was like a packed train when the conductor asks people to move up inside the carriage, but nobody does — or can. There were times when people just didn't obey instructions.

But why were they all just standing here? The grimm weren't pressing hard upon the heels of the Beacon and Haven students — they were still wary, of the huntsmen or of Ruby's silver eyes or both — and they weren't going to descend upon the group at any moment, but at the same time, they weren't so far away that it was safe for all of these people to just … hang out like this, whyever they were doing it.

She was just about to step away from Ren and Nora to try and find somebody who could tell her what was going on when she was hailed by a voice.

"Ruby Rose? It is Ruby Rose, isn't it? From the bike club."

Ruby looked around, taking a few seconds to identify the source of the voice: a girl, human, with slightly bronzed skin and dark hair worn down just past her shoulders. Ruby … there was something vaguely familiar about her, but at the same time, she didn't recognise — but she did recognise, at least more clearly than she recognised the girl, the faunus woman whom the girl had just stepped away from.

That was Leaf's Mom, she was sure of it.

"It is Ruby Rose, isn't it?" the girl said. "I recognise you from your match on TV, and I … sorry, you've got no idea who I am, do you?"

"Not … I mean, do you know Leaf Kelly?" Ruby asked.

"Yes!" the girl said. "Yes, I do, my name's Angeline; I'm Leaf's stepsister." She glanced towards Leaf's mom, and towards a man stood beside her who looked more like Angeline, who Ruby thought must have been her father. "It's nice to meet you, even though…"

"Yeah," Ruby muttered. "Yeah, it's not a great night." She bit her lip. "Listen, what's going on out here? Why is everybody just standing around? The grimm are coming, everybody needs to get out of here—"

"And go where?" Angeline demanded. "That's what I was hoping to talk to you about; the gate's shut, and they're not letting anyone through. I was hoping that, as a huntress, you could … I don't know, get them to open the gates for us, or something."

"The gate's shut?" Ruby repeated. She took a step back from Angeline and looked around. There were so many people here it was hard to believe that they were all stragglers, left behind because they hadn't moved fast enough. "Since when? For how long?"

"For always," Angeline replied. "I don't think anybody's gotten through. Some people have given up waiting and gone home. And now that the CCT has gone down—"

"What?" Ruby cried. "What's the matter with the CCT?"

"The tower's gone," Angeline said. "Didn't you see?"

No, Ruby hadn't seen; her attention had been fixed on the grimm behind them, not at Beacon; after Teams SAPR and RSPT had set off for Beacon to stop Amber from taking the Relic, she hadn't really paid the school much mind, or attention. There had been other things which had more claim upon her thoughts. She hadn't wanted to get distracted by thinking about what might be going on there, although she hoped that they stopped Amber.

It was only now, prompted by Angeline, that she looked up and towards Beacon and saw, or rather didn't see, the CCT Tower. It wasn't there anymore. The lights that had always burned in the darkness, the emerald lights were gone. There was only dark sky there now.

The CCT Tower was down, and with it, the whole network. They couldn't talk to other kingdoms; it was touch and go if she could even reach Patch. Leaf couldn't reach her family, and they couldn't reach her either. Everyone had been muted. Everyone had been cut off.

They would survive — the world had gotten along okay before the CCT Towers went up; they'd get by afterwards too — but that didn't mean it was going to be easy. In fact, it was likely going to be pretty hard.

Still, as an issue, it kind of paled in comparison right now to what was going to happen to all of these people stuck outside the wall with the gates shut. "Sorry," Ruby said. "Thanks for letting me know, but … you were saying?"

"Right, um … yeah, just, with the CCT down, we can't find out anything about why the gates are shut or when they might open," Angeline said. "Can … can you help? At all?"

"I … I mean, I can't just order them to open the gate," Ruby told her. "But I'll do what I can. Just … wait here just one second; I need to talk to a couple of people."

She turned away, her red cape swirling around her, as she took a couple of steps back to Ren and Nora.

"Friend of yours?" Nora asked.

"No, but I know her sister a little bit," Ruby explained. "She recognised me. She said the—"

"What's going on?" Arslan asked, as she and Violet made their way over to join Ruby, Ren, and Nora. "Did that girl tell you something?"

Ruby nodded. "She said the gates are closed, that they've always been closed as far as she knows, that they're not letting anybody get through them."

"Not letting anyone through?" Nora cried. "Why not?"

"Presumably, they're worried about letting grimm through," murmured Ren.

"But there haven't been any grimm around here!" Nora shouted. "They could have got lots of people, maybe all these people, through the gate already if they'd just opened up!"

"I'm sure they had good reasons," said Ren quietly.

"Does being yellow as a custard cream count as a good reason?" asked Nora.

"And a fat lot of good you lot turned out to be!" shouted an old man from out of the crowd. He was bald on top, with white hair crowning his back and sides, and tufty eyebrows extending out past the ends of his craggy, age-lined face. He gestured at them with one fat finger as he went on. "All that prancing about on telly, all that strutting back and forth, and you can't stop a few grimm, can you?"

"'A few grimm'?" Nora repeated. "'A few grimm'?!"

Violet Valeria's hands knotted into fists as she began to stride forward.

"Hey, hey," Arslan grabbed her by the wrist, slipping around her until she was between Violet and the old man. "No, no, you can't do that."

"I'm just going to teach him a lesson for his impertinence," Violet said.

"I know," Arslan said. "That's what you can't do. This isn't Mistral; this is Vale."

"I don't care about Valish custom, so long as I follow Mistralian custom—"

"Do you think everyone else will follow Mistralian custom in letting you get away with it?" Arslan demanded. "Let him spout off; don't we have more important things to think about?"

Violet hesitated for a moment, before letting out a loud huff and turning away, back to Ruby, Ren, and Nora.

"Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate," she muttered. "Wretched peasant."

"What were you going to do to him?" Ruby asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Arslan said quickly.

"Just give him a little crack on the head, that's all," Violet said casually. “Teach him to mind his manners and hold his tongue in future.”

"We're supposed to protect these people," Ruby said.

"Lily has taken wounds protecting these 'people,'" Violet declared, her lip curling into a sneer. "And Cicero, too, the son of a Councillor of Mistral. Worse than wounds, sons and daughters of Mistral will ne'er be seen from the White Tower again and see now with what gratitude their sacrifice is received by the 'people' of this wretched city."

"They don't have to be grateful."

"There, we must disagree," said Violet. "If not gratitude, then at least the facsimile of the same through a respectful silence."

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"We should stay focussed," Ren said.

"That's right, focussed on the real villains: the people who closed the gate," Nora said.

Ruby looked around. So many people out here, so many people waiting, waiting for a gate that would not open, waiting for salvation that would not come, waiting for somewhere to go when they had nowhere to go.

Waiting for the grimm to come and devour them all.

"We need to get the gate open," she declared.

Everyone looked at her.

"Seriously?" Arslan asked.

"Yes, seriously," Ruby replied. "I'm not saying it will be easy, necessarily, but I think we can do it; it can't be impossible."

"You're also saying that we should," Ren pointed out, his voice remaining outwardly calm, like a still pond.

"Because we should!" Nora cried. "Look around, Ren; how many people do you think there are out here?"

"How many people are behind the walls?" asked Ren in response.

"How many of us are there?" Ruby demanded. "We've been lucky, so far, that ever since the dragon took off, the grimm have been handling us pretty lightly, but how long is that going to last? Are we going to keep on getting lucky, or are the grimm going to remember that they outnumber us by a hundred to one and throw everything they've got at us again? Ren, anyone, do you really think that if the grimm attack in force, we can hold them back with the numbers we have?"

Ren began, "The Atlesians—"

"Are retreating too; who knows if they can hold out?" Ruby said. "And even if they can, we're still…" She hesitated, because she didn't want to admit this, even if it was true. "We're still the weak link. I'm asking you again, do you think we can hold the grimm off?"

She looked at Ren, her eyes fixed upon him as she waited for his answer.

Ren's expression didn't change. He was unflinching. Ruby had to admire that, even when she disagreed with him, like she admired the way that his voice didn't waver as he said, "No."

"Then all these people will die," Nora said.

"Perhaps they will," said Violet. "Perhaps it is as you say, we are not strong enough to hold them. I will go so far as to admit you are probably right; we have not held them so far, and we were stronger then … we will go down to death as our ancestors did, and all these Valish abandoned by their leaders will die alongside us. Yet, as I have been reminded, this is Vale, not Mistral, and we have no authority to overrule the leaders of this land when they have chosen their course."

"So our only choice is how nobly we die?" asked Arslan.

Violet shrugged. "It comes to us all in the end, no? What choice could matter more than how we meet it?"

"We're huntsmen and huntresses," Ruby said. "Defenders of life; that gives us all the authority we need."

"Even if it means putting Vale in danger?" demanded Ren. "If the grimm reach the open gate—"

"That's a chokepoint," Ruby said. "We can defend that easily, a lot more easily than we can defend this part of the city." She paused. "If it were just us out here, then I'd agree with you, but it's not. It's all these people too, and they didn't sign up for any of this. We can't just let them all die."

"Not even for the greater good?" asked Ren.

"The greater good only applies to our lives," said Ruby. "When it comes to everyone else, we have to fight for every life. No matter the cost, no matter the risk."

"We can't just abandon people," Nora said softly.

"We're n—"

"Yes, we are," Nora insisted. "If we know that we can't keep them safe, then we're abandoning them."

Ren was silent for a moment, looking at Nora first, before his eyes swung to Ruby. "What's your plan?" he asked.

"I … really only have the concept, right now," Ruby admitted.

"Let's head to the gate," Nora said. "See what's actually going on there."

"We'll stay here," Arslan said. "Hold the grimm back if they come."

"Right," Ruby said. She sprinted across the short distance separating her from Angeline, trailing some rosepetals behind her on the ground. "We are going to get the gate open," she told her. "I don't know how, yet, but we're going to do it. You should try and get a little closer to the gate, if you can, for when we do." She didn't mention that it would also keep them safer when the grimm arrived; they could probably work that part out for themselves.

"Okay, I'll tell Mum and Dad," Angeline said. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us until the gate is open," Ruby replied, leaving Angeline and returning to Ren and Nora.

"Let's move," she said.

They found it kind of hard going; the crowd only got thicker as they got closer to the gate, the gate that Ruby still couldn't see but thought they must be closing in on because the walls seemed higher now than they had been before, looming larger over the suburbs down below.

Unfortunately, the crowds were thicker too, and the closer to the walls — and the gate — they got, the thicker the crowd pressed in around them and made it more and more of an effort to force their way through.

They were still trying to get through the crowd, which sometimes pressed so tightly around Ruby that she lost sight of the walls, or Ren and Nora, and only saw a cramped mass of bodies all around blocking out every other view, when they saw a few Atlesian Skyrays pass overhead, then began to drop down into the crowd.

"The Atlesians must be evacuating people," Ren said approvingly. "So there's no need to open the gate."

"We'll see about that," Nora muttered darkly.

They didn't have to wait long to find the reason for Nora's scepticism. As the Atlesian airships descended, they were greeted rapturously, with raised hands and joyous cries from the people down below, but no sooner had the airships landed and opened their doors than people flooded in, no order, no restraint, just a mass of desperate, frightened people pressing into a confined space that was nowhere near big enough for all of them. Through the window, Ruby and the others could see people pushing into the cockpit of one airship, while someone screamed in pain as the door shut while they were still half out of the Skyray, crushing them in a vice. Even once one airship had shut its doors, people clung to the side of the fuselage or clambered up onto the wings and hung on for dear life. Overloaded Skyrays wobbled in the air like plates balanced on straws as they struggled to gain elevation, while people grabbed hold of them as though they were trying to hold the airships back or pull them down again to the ground.

More people screamed as they lost their grip and fell back down into the crowd off the wings or fuselages of the unsteady Skyrays, while one person fell into the engine on one wing, which exploded with a huge bang and a shower of debris that had everyone down below ducking for cover as an answering shriek of horror rose from the people still on the ground.

The Skyray spun into the air, colliding with a wobbling and unsteady other airship which itself began to tumble, rolling downwards like a cheese, both airships plunging into the crowd; people tried to get out of the way, they tried to run, they screamed and shouted, but everyone was just pressed so tightly together that not everyone was able to escape, some of them were still down below when the airships crashed, both of them exploding in blossoming burst of fire.

Cries of fear turned to cries of pain as people were touched by the fire, or by the shards of metal that sliced like hurled spears through the crowd.

Another airship, far too full, crashed less explosively; it had barely gotten ten feet up in the air before the strained engines gave out, and it flopped back down to earth with a metallic thump.

"They'll never get everyone out that way," Nora said. "If they can get anyone out that way. The airships aren't big enough, and the people aren't organised enough. The only way that enough people can get to safety is through that gate."

And so they pressed on, struggling through the crowd until at last they reached the Freedom Gate, where spotlights shone down from the parapet on top to sweep across the desperate crowd — mostly Valish civilians, although Ruby could see some Valish soldiers too, and even the tractor that they'd seen Reese off on carrying their own wounded earlier in the battle — who huddled at the green metal barrier.

People stood on the road, they stood between the rails too, taking their own lives in their hands; they held up desperate hands, or held up children, towards the soldiers on top of the wall, they cried out to them for pity or for mercy, they cried out for humanity from those who looked down upon them from the walls with such bright lights.

Who looked down and did nothing.

Nora was right, and Ren was wrong; even if Ruby hadn't believed that already, she thought that she probably would have believed it now, watching these people bang pitifully and fruitlessly on the gate, listening to them begging for help, knowing what would happen to them if no help came.

They couldn't just leave them to die. Ruby couldn't leave them to die.

But how to open the gate? The only way would be to get onto the other side of the wall, and then—

"Nora," Ruby asked. "Do you think you could hit me hard enough to send me over the wall and onto the other side so I can open the gate?"

Nora grinned. "Can I hit you hard enough? Oh, just you watch me, little lady." She raised her voice. "Stand back, everyone!" She pulled her hammer from across her back, unfolding it from its grenade launcher form into its hammer mode, drawing it back over her shoulder. "Batter up!"

Ruby, for her part, crouched down.

She concentrated her aura in her legs, not so much for the sake of the jump but because she thought she would need all the aura she could get down there.

One. Two. Three.

She jumped like a leaping frog, rising up into the air.

Nora's hammer hit her on the soles of her feet about as hard as Ruby had expected them to, battering her aura down — Ruby thought she must have lost about half of it; that was certainly what it felt like — even as it tossed her up into the air. Ruby flew up and up, rising higher and higher, past the guns in their mountings, higher than the spotlights on top of the wall, higher than the wall itself, higher and higher — before she began to come down.

Ruby pulled Crescent Rose out from behind her back, and as she dropped down on the far side of the wall, she fired to slow herself, once, twice, three times, firing her weapon in its carbine configuration, slowing her descent with every shot until she landed, safely, on her feet on the far side of the Red Line.

There was a roar, a massive roaring sound that made Ruby look up as the dragon swept overhead, its enormous wings beating. It didn't look at Ruby, it didn't seem to look down at all, it just flew over her head, over the gate and outwards to where Ruby couldn't see it anymore. The walls were too high, and more importantly, she was too close to the walls, and the dragon quickly disappeared from her sight. She couldn't see it, she couldn't see what it might be doing, she could only hear it roar again, a deafening sound that drowned out every other noise, even all the crying and the wailing from the other people on the other side of the gate.

The dragon's roar died down, and Ruby could hear the people crying out once again.

She could also hear, coming from behind her, the rumbling sound of a familiar motorcycle.

Ruby turned around, to see that same, familiar, ugly, hodgepodge bike rumbling down the road towards her, with Weiss on its back and Sunset at the controls.

Author's Note

The goats that Team TTSS encounter on their way into Vale are based on the Llandudno goats, who escaped during the covid lockdowns in 2020 and have been roaming the streets of a Welsh town ever since, growing increasingly brazen according to the local council:

The big deviation from the original here is who exactly is stuck on the wrong side of the gate; in the original version it was just the huntsmen, so Ruby favoured keeping the gate shut; in the rewrite there are a lot of other people who didn't evacuate in time and so Ruby wants to open the gate.

I have to say that when it comes to Violet wanting to smack that guy for running his mouth off at them, my sympathies are with her, he's got some bloody cheek for presuming to talk like that after all they've been through, and the Beacon students are too nice to just put up with it.

The other change I suppose is that instead of nebulous Valish authorities deciding to shut the gate, it's the personal of Sky Beak who has made that decision; it may not be a very nice decision, and it's rough on everyone stuck on the wrong side of the wall, but it's understandable considering the paucity of resources that he has to work with.

The Open Door (New)

The Open Door

They were building a barricade across the road.

Trixie and Team TTSS had been drawn back to the front lines by … by magic, one might say, or simply by the fact that since they couldn't really get to safety, it hadn't felt right just hanging around with all of the Valish civilians, colours or no colours. And so they had come back, following the road that had led them to the gate, now heading back towards the outskirts of Vale, where the wild goats had been taking over the deserted suburbs.

They actually came across the goats a little earlier than anyone had been expecting; they had headed further into Vale and closer to the walls, mingling with some of the stragglers of the crowd closest to the city limits. As Team TTSS moved onwards, they soon found out just why the goats had been driven into the city.

Because the Atlesian troops had arrived, their retreat finally carrying them out of the fields and into Vale itself, and they were establishing new defences on the outskirts of the city.

It was a lot like when they'd all first arrived at the Green Line from Beacon, in that the first things they saw were the Spider droids with cannons or missile launchers mounted on them; although these Spiders were still getting into position, some of them still striding down the streets and making TTSS dodge out of the way of their clanking metal legs. No wonder the goats had run further into the city.

Then there were mortars being set up in the middle of the road, and then, further on from that, at the very outskirts of Vale where suburbs shaded into fields, were the infantry and Paladins, forming a rough line to keep the grimm at bay.

It was the standard setup, then, the same setup as the Atlesians had used to defend the Green Line, the same setup that had held the Green Line until that giant monster grimm got involved. It was the same, but it was different too. For one thing, everything seemed to be less, sometimes a lot less, sometimes just a little less; there were — or there appeared to be — fewer Spiders, and while that might have been because the houses were blocking the view of the others, it was also probably because they'd lost some in the retreat, when the grimm had first broken through the Atlesian lines. There were fewer Paladins too, and definitely fewer Knights standing in the line alongside the soldiers. When Trixie, TTSS, and all the other teams had arrived on the Green Line, they had found two Knights for every soldier on the rampart; now, there were a lot more soldiers and maybe one Knight for every five or six troops present.

Better that they should lose the androids than the soldiers, but still, that was a lot gone, a reminder of how much they'd lost when the defences were swept away.

Another reminder of that was the wounded; nobody was too seriously wounded — Trixie guessed that the really badly hurt had been airlifted to the medical frigates — but there were men with cuts and gashes, with claw marks on their armour, with bandages hastily tied around their arms. There were soldiers who lost their helmets, revealing tired eyes with dark circles around them. There were Paladins that sagged forwards as though the machines themselves were exhausted, never mind the pilots, and soldiers whose hands trembled.

But they worked anyway, setting up new defences on the edge of the city as they prepared to turn and fight once again. They smashed down doors to the nearby houses, wrenching them clean off their hinges and piling them up in the street alongside whatever furniture they could manhandle out of the houses to make a barricade out of. Low walls of sofas and dining tables sprung up before their eyes. Other soldiers smashed the windows of the houses, particularly the upper windows, and made ready to fire out of them. Rifle muzzles poked out of broken windows, the men and women who held the rifles invisible in dark rooms.

As defences went, it didn't really compare to what the Atlesians had earlier set up on the Green Line, but it was better than nothing.

Anything had to be better than nothing, right?

Colonel Harper was standing near the front line, just behind the barricade as it went up. Her sword was drawn, the blade resting lightly on her shoulder, and her pistol hung lightly in her other hand, down by her side. She had a group of officers around her, and her Mistralian orderly stood silently by, his own sword sheathed for now.

"So, you had the same idea as us?" Sabine said.

Trixie looked around to see Team SABR approaching, having just come from one of the connecting side-streets that ran between this road and one of the others parallel to it. Like TTSS, they still had the flag; Sabine still had the flag, the Battalion Colour of the Fourth, and like the Atlesian Colour in Trixie's hand, it hung limp now, so that you couldn't see the black bull or the battle honours.

Team SABR was intact; they had kept the standard, and they hadn't lost anyone to do it.

Trixie put one hand on her hip. "Excuse you, Sabine Silverband, but Trixie think you'll find that it is you who had the same idea as the Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrixie."

Sabine snorted. "Maybe. It's a pity the Great and Powerful Trixie couldn't have had the idea of getting to the gate before it shut."

"I think the gate's always been shut," Starlight replied. "No matter when we left, or how fast we got here, there's no way that we couldn't have gotten to the other side of the wall. The Valish had never opened the gate at all."

Sabine wrinkled her nose. "They're a gutless bunch, aren't they?"

"They're scared," Starlight murmured.

"We're all scared," replied Sabine. "Even the Great and Powerful over here. It's what you do when you're scared that counts, isn't it?"

Starlight shrugged. "Maybe," she admitted. "But … if Mantle were under attack, and Atlas could either let people in and risk Atlas, or keep them out and keep Atlas safe in the process, do you think that we'd behave any better than the Valish are doing now?"

"One would certainly like to hope so, darling," murmured Rarity.

Starlight gave a thin smile. "Sure, but I—"

"But you didn't say 'hope'; you said 'think,'" said Maud quietly.

Starlight nodded. "Exactly."

"I think that we'd do something," Sunburst said. "We wouldn't just leave Mantle to die."

"Optimism, that's the spirit," Sabine said, and it was hard for Trixie to tell if she was being sarcastic or not, although she thought she was. She paused for a second. "You know," she said, "I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I don't think I'll go to Vacuo."

Trixie's eyebrows rose. "You were going to go to Vacuo?"

"I thought about it," Sabine admitted. "We thought about it."

"As in transfer to Shade Academy?" Trixie said. "Leave Atlas."

Sabine chuckled. "You say that like it's the worst fate imaginable."

"Isn't it?" demanded Trixie. "Why would you want to go to Vacuo? It's so sandy and hot and sticky and disgusting. Why … just why?"

"Because they treat faunus better in Vacuo," Starlight guessed. "That's right, isn't it?"

Sabine gestured with her head, almost like she was tossing it to one side, or twitching because of something wrong with her neck. "That was about it, yeah," she admitted. "Freedom, opportunity—"

"Freedom to sweat and opportunity to smell?" Trixie asked.

"Stuff like that is why they don't like us very much in Vacuo," said Sabine.

"I thought that was just the chip on their shoulder," Trixie replied.

"But you changed your mind?" Sunburst asked, bringing the conversation back around. "Why?"

"Because where have the Shade students fought during this battle?" asked Sabine.

"They … they haven't, have they?" asked Rarity in return.

"Exactly, girl who I don't know," Sabine declared. "They've sat up on Amity Colosseum, sitting this one because they're as much of a gutless bunch as the Valish who've kept the gate shut."

"I think it's more of a cultural thing," Sunburst said. "Vacuans don't—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Vacuans don't believe in standing their ground and fighting; Vacuans pack up and move on when danger threatens; Vacuans are so agile, they're basically contortionists," Sabine said. "It got me thinking that freedom and opportunity are all very well and good — and I mean that — but I don't want to be like that. I don't want to cut and run all the time when things get rough; that's not who I am." She paused. "And then, as I was thinking about that, and how I might not really fit in in Vacuo, I realised that going to Shade and leaving Atlas would actually be me cutting and running so … looks like you're all stuck with me. With us." She glanced behind her. "Sorry, guys, I've changed my mind. I hope none of you were looking forward to us all getting sand in our boots together."

"It's more important that we be a team than that we be in the right kingdom for it," Reynard said.

Bella Roseye shook her head. "Whatever kingdom we are in together, that is the right kingdom for us."

Sabine looked at her. "'Whatever kingdom we are in together—' what kind of corny thing to say is that? You've been watching too many cartoons, Bella." She shook her head before looking at Trixie again. "I suppose we should let Colonel Harper know we're here."

Trixie nodded. "That sounds like an excellent idea, which is why Trixie was just about to suggest it."

Sabine snorted.

The two team leaders took the lead, with each of them holding tightly onto the colours, as their teammates fell in behind them. They walked — they marched — down the road to where Colonel Harper was conferring with her officers. The Mistralian orderly noticed them, but said nothing, and did nothing to draw the colonel's attention to their presence.

"There might not be time, but try and put some holes in the walls," Colonel Harper said. "There aren't enough windows facing directly outwards across the field, and we want to increase our firing angles, if possible. And remind the troops that ammunition resupply is unlikely for a while, so take careful aim and make every shot count. I want Military Huntsmen deployed by squads along the line in support of rifle companies. Lieutenant Raleigh, I want you to take a sergeant and sixteen men into reserve, just in case the dragon comes back. If it starts dropping grimm behind our lines, then it will be your job to deal with them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's all," Colonel Harper said. "Take your positions."

As the officers dispersed to their respective units, Colonel Harper appeared to finally notice Team TTSS and Team SABR. She looked at them, half-turning in their direction.

"Cadets," she said softly. She glanced upwards at the colours that Trixie and Sabine gripped tightly. "I see you kept them safe, then."

"Yes, ma'am," Trixie said. "Although we couldn't get them to safety because—"

"Because they Valish aren't letting anyone through the gate, yes, I know," Colonel Harper replied. "That's why we're setting up here. General Ironwood has ordered us to hold this position until we can evacuate the Valish civilians by air, after which it will be our turn to be lifted off the battlefield. We just have to stand our ground until then, or until the grimm decide that they've had enough punishment for one night and call it quits."

"Yes, ma'am," Trixie said. "We thought that, since we couldn't get through the wall and couldn't get the Colours to real safety, you might like them back on the line."

"We thought that they'd be better off here than being held in the middle of a bunch of civilians," Sabine added. "And so would we."

Colonel Harper was quiet for a second. Again she looked up at the flags, which hung limply down from their staves.

"I see," she whispered. "A part of me wants to tell you to take them back, to stand around with the civilians with them because they'll be safer there than they will be here. A part of me wants to tell you that I'm not sure that we can hold the grimm here, and I don't want our standards to be food for beowolves or ursai." She paused. "Another part of me wants to thank the two of you, all of you, because this might be the toughest fight in the history of the Fourth, and it's as well that we fight it within sight of the colours. And another part of me realises that it's too late now; if I send you and the standards away, then anyone who notices will lose heart, and that would never do." She smiled, at least a little bit. "So welcome back to the battle, all of you." Her smile faded. "Guard those standards with your lives. If our line crumbles, I expect you all to be the last to fall, in defence of the colours."

"You can rely on us, ma'am," Trixie said. "We've kept them safe, and we will keep them safe."

Colonel Harper nodded, and Trixie thought that she might even be nodding approvingly. "Very well then," she said. "Take up your positions just behind the—"

The dragon roared, loudly and from behind them.

"Take cover!" Colonel Harper shouted. "Everybody down!"

Trixie ducked, bending her back and her knees, holding the colours so that they almost touched the ground, half-shielding them with her body. She didn't look up. She didn't see the dragon, but she heard the beating of its wings as it flew overhead.

Flying overhead was all that it seemed to do. It didn't drop down to rake its claws down the road and snatch people up like it had snatched up Team FNKI; it didn't unleash a blast of breath the way it had burned a hole in the defences. It just flew overhead, and when Trixie dared to look up, she found that it had flown clean over and was almost out of sight now, flying into the night.

The dragon roared again, louder than it had roared before, and this time, its roar was answered by the grimm of the horde, beowolves and ursai and goliaths and all the rest roaring and howling and trumpeting in unison.

It's letting them know it's back to take charge again, Trixie thought.

She swallowed.

"Up!" Colonel Harper shouted. "Up and to your posts! Soldiers of the Fourth, make ready!"

Soldiers rose up from their crouches, or from the ground where they had thrown themselves; those rose up and stepped up to the makeshift, half-completed barricades, resting machine guns on overturned tables and raising rifles to their shoulders.

And not a moment too soon, as the first grimm began to charge out of the darkness, the moonlight gleaming down upon the white bone of their armour, their spiky spurs, their masks with the red markings on.

The Atlesians began to fire; it seemed weak compared to the wall of flame that had met the grimm upon the ramparts of the Green Line, less intense, more sporadic, but the grimm were met with fire nonetheless, and the leading grimm began to wither and die under the rifle and machine gun rounds.

Behind the line, the Spider droids began to fire, shells whistling as they arced over the Atlesian defences to explode in the darkness, their brief bursts of flame illuminating the night where the grimm gathered.

There seemed to be so many of them, even after all that they'd killed, all the losses the grimm had suffered, there still seemed to be so many of them.

And the dragon emerged out of the night, flying straight towards them.

Sunset stopped her motorcycle.

Ruby was there. Ruby was standing in front of her.

It shouldn't have been so unexpected. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Sunset at all, she should have known — she had known — that this was coming; when she and Weiss had set out for the battlefield, this had become inevitable, and yet…

And yet…

And yet, Sunset was still, and stiff, and frozen.

Because Ruby was there.

And Ruby knew that Sunset was there too; she was looking at Sunset the same way that Sunset was looking at her.

There was no escape, for either of them.

There was no sign of Pyrrha either, or Penny; that might be better, or it might be worse, Sunset wasn't sure.

There was really only one way to find out.

Sunset slowly dismounted from her bike. Her movements were stiff, awkward, and slow and sluggish in consequence. She could hear the dragon roaring somewhere out beyond the wall, rendered invisible now by the height of the wall and by how close Sunset was to it, but not even the roaring of the dragon could move Sunset to a greater haste, could not make her motions more fluid. She moved like a puppet, dancing upon invisible strings, everything a little awkward, action by action, lacking in coordination, lacking in a sense of realism.

In such a halting, hesitant, and awkward manner, Sunset got off her bike and took off her helmet.

If Ruby hadn't known who she was before, then she couldn't not realise it now.

Weiss, behind Sunset, had gotten off the bike first but didn't say anything.

Sunset kind of wished she would, but at the same time, was also a bit grateful to her for staying silent.

Which of the two emotions ended up prevailing would probably depend a lot on how Ruby reacted, which couldn't be far off now.

Sunset waited, silent. She didn't say anything because she wasn't entirely sure what to say. It would be better by far, she thought, to let Ruby make the first move; then she could see how Ruby felt.

It was hard to tell how Ruby felt from looking at her. She had kind of a blank look on her face; even from her eyes, it was hard to work out what was going on in her head.

Ruby tilted said head to one side a little and said, "I think I … you're Sunset Shimmer, right? You helped the First Councillor deal with the situation with the Defence Forces." She nodded approvingly. "That was good work; thanks for helping to get that straightened out."

Sunset stared at her, not replying. She'd waited for Ruby to make the first move, but now that Ruby had, Sunset was still completely at a loss as to how she ought to respond to it. Of all the things that Ruby could have said, she chose to open with that. Sunset supposed it was nice to have a little gratitude, but it was so far from what she'd expected that it left her a little out of sorts, floundering in a sea of confusion.

And what was with the 'you're Sunset Shimmer, right' like she didn't know who Sunset was?

"I…" Sunset began. "Well, thanks, I suppose," she muttered, scratching her chin with one hand.

"It is Sunset Shimmer, isn't it?" Ruby asked.

Sunset blinked. "Y-yes," she said. "Yes, it is."

"It's nice to meet you," Ruby went on. "I'm Ruby. Ruby Rose."

Sunset kept on blinking, blinking rapidly, eyes flickering as though she was asleep. Perhaps she was asleep, and this was all just some kind of weird dream.

That might actually be nice.

Except I'd wake up in Skystar's house and have to go through all this again.

"Are you okay?" Weiss asked, stepping out from behind Sunset.

"Hey, Weiss," Ruby said. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"Because you're talking like you don't know someone you've been living with for the past year!" Weiss declared sharply.

Sunset said nothing. She waited for what would come next.

Ruby looked at Weiss now, not at Sunset; she looked at Weiss almost as though Weiss was the weird one, whose behaviour, words, and actions made no sense at all.

"No," Ruby said. "No, I think I'd remember that." She returned her attention to Sunset. "I mean, I have dreamed of someone like you, but … but that was just a dream. I don't know you."

Ah. Okay, so that's how we're going to play this, Sunset thought. That was … honestly, probably the best that Sunset could have hoped for. She wasn't entirely sure it was the best time, but leaving that aside, it was hard to see any way that this could be handled any better. Too much had happened to do anything but ignore it, pretend that it hadn't happened, or that it had happened to someone else.

"Yeah, I don't know you either," Sunset replied softly. "Although I think we might have some mutual friends."

Ruby shook her head. "No," she said. "No, we don't. Mutual … acquaintances, maybe, but not friends; not my friends."

Bit harsh, Sunset thought. Especially on Penny. "I … I'm sorry to hear that."

"Is this actually happening?" Weiss demanded.

Sunset ignored her, and so did Ruby, for that matter.

"It's okay," Ruby said. "School wasn't for me; that's why I decided to drop out."

'Drop out'? Drop out and do what? Wait tables?

"It wasn't a good fit for me," Ruby went on. "But I think it would suit you, though."

Is she … is this a way of telling me that … that I can go back. "Are you … you really … you think so? I mean, I enjoyed it, mostly, but—"

"Then stick with it," Ruby advised her. "You might as well. I mean, what's stopping you?"

Sunset stared down at her. Ruby was … Ruby was giving Sunset her blessing to come back. Ruby was letting her back into Beacon.

Admittedly, that meant Ruby was leaving Beacon herself, but if she was being honest with Sunset, then she hadn't enjoyed it, in which case … in which case, she might be better off out of it. Providing that she wasn't leaving just to help Sunset out, but then why would she? What reason would Ruby have to use Sunset with such kindness?

What reason would she have to feign having never met me before?

Maybe she's had a change of heart towards me?

Not so great that…

Not so great that what? That she can acknowledge it? Does that really matter?

No. No, I don't suppose it does. If she wants to go, if she wants to walk another path, then fine, good luck to her. I hope she's happy.

And I…

"You … you really think that's a good idea?" Sunset asked.

Ruby nodded. "I do. I think your friends would be really glad to see you again."

Sunset blinked twice, three times, more. "And … and you?"

"I've got a better offer, one that suits me better," Ruby replied. "At least, I think so, anyway. An offer that will let me do what I want."

"I … I see," Sunset murmured. They would … they would take me back? I'd be allowed to go back?

Ruby will step aside and let me back.

I can go home.

Sunset blinked rapidly, for she was blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes. "That…" She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "That sounds like very good advice. I think I'll take it, thank you."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You … really? Are you both … are we really doing this? Am I losing my mind here?"

"Maybe," Ruby said. "But hopefully not."

Weiss snorted. "Listen, young lady, I will not be Angelstreeted! I know that—"

"Weiss," Sunset said softly. "Please, that's enough." She didn't give Weiss much of a chance to respond before she asked Ruby, "We've been in the city helping with the issues there; have you come from outside the walls?"

"Yes," Ruby answered. "I just got over the walls with some help from Nora."

"Okay," Sunset said. "So, what's the situation?"

Ruby hesitated for a second. She glanced down at the ground. "It's hard to know where to start," she muttered.

"Sunset knows about Beacon," Weiss said. "So you don't need to cover that part. Just tell us what's been happening out on the battlefield."

"On the battlefield," Ruby said softly. "Right." She closed her eyes and took a breath. "On the battlefield, the Valish troops routed almost as soon as the grimm attacked; all of the stuff with General Blackthorn and everything, it just got to them, it was too much. Plus, they weren't really properly equipped to face a grimm attack like that; the nevermores and the griffons were tearing through them, and they couldn't respond. So they ran, but with the help of the Haven students and the Mistralian forces, we were able to sort of hold them, and the Atlesians were holding their line too. Yang, Ren, Nora, Penny, Jaune, and I went to look for the Apex Alpha leading the horde on our flank—"

"That was rash of you," Weiss said, "And Yang, for one, should have remembered better."

Sunset, who had bitten her tongue, felt glad that Weiss had said it, even as she had no intention of saying anything in that vein to Ruby herself. After all, if they were strangers, then why should she care what huge risks Ruby ran with her survival?

She might give Jaune and Penny an earful about it later, though, because really? Seriously? Hunting the Apex Alpha? Because that had been such a good idea, hadn't it, the way that Sunset had almost led Yang and Weiss to their deaths — and Blake, too, for that matter.

What were they thinking?

"We had to do something," Ruby insisted. "The grimm were going to overwhelm us with sheer numbers if we didn't take action to stop the horde."

"Pyrrha wasn't with you?" Sunset asked. Ruby had named the three members of Team YRBN, and three members of Team SAPR, but not Pyrrha. She had named Jaune, but not Pyrrha. Had she … had she already been wounded by the time that they embarked on this adventure?

Had she been … worse than wounded?

Had their farewell before the Emerald Tower been a true farewell? Before Sunset even got the chance to congratulate her on her tournament victory?

"She stayed behind with the Haven students," Ruby said. "I was worried that if they saw her leaving, then they would think she was fleeing the battlefield and lose heart."

Sunset did not disguise her sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear it," she admitted. "Probably a lot gladder than Pyrrha was to see Jaune go off without her."

"Yeah, she wasn't too happy about it," Ruby acknowledged. "Anyway, we found the Apex Alpha, and we killed it." She looked at Weiss with something close to defiance in her silver eyes.

Weiss put one hand on her hip. "And how did you escape afterwards?"

Ruby hesitated. "We … Rainbow Dash, Blake, and Ciel had been ordered to also take out the Apex Alpha by General Ironwood; their airship picked us up when we were all done."

"Mmhmm," Weiss murmured, sounding as though she had just had her point proven.

"We could have gotten ourselves out; we had a plan," Ruby explained. "Anyway, that disrupted the grimm facing us for a little bit, but then the dragon showed up, and … I guess you could have seen it from inside of Vale, right? It was that big?"

"We saw," Sunset said. "We saw it blast through the Atlesian air defences."

"It did the same on the ground too," Ruby added. "The Atlesian line was breached, and we … the Mistralians are pretty much gone. Their commander is probably dead, and…" She licked her lips. "We suffered … casualties."

Weiss took a step forward. "Yang?"

Ruby looked at her, blinking twice. "How … how did you know?"

"Because you…" Weiss trailed off. "I'm sorry, Ruby, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Sunset whispered.

She hadn't known Yang that well, in spite of sitting opposite her for meals for almost a year, but nevertheless, that had been enough to give her a basic sense of Yang: good-humoured, generous, loyal. Not Sunset's kind of person in every respect — their tastes, as shown during the dance preparations, were not entirely compatible — but someone whom the right kind of people found easy to like. Certainly, Ren and Nora seemed to have taken to her; although she hadn't been able to dislodge Rainbow Dash from her place in Blake's affections, that was no slight against her — she couldn't offer Blake anything like the kind of things that Rainbow could offer her.

And she had been a good sister; she'd proven that almost from her first interaction with Sunset.

This had to be hitting Ruby hard.

"It's fine," Ruby said quickly. "It … it is what it is, it's the job, it's the life, it's … sweet and fitting. She died as a huntress." She breathed in deeply. "We should all be so lucky."

Weiss reached out towards Ruby's shoulder with one pale hand. "You don't need to pretend—"

"I'm not—" Ruby halted as she flinched away from Weiss' touch. "There's still a battle to be fought and a city to be defended. Nothing else matters now, nothing but…" She hesitated. "Weiss, I'm about to talk about some things that won't make any sense to you, but I can't explain it in a way that will make it make sense, so you're just going to have to deal with it, okay?"

Weiss' eyes narrowed. "You realise all that does is whet my curiosity?"

"That's too bad," Ruby said softly. She turned to Sunset. "Sunset, there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it: Ozpin's dead too."

Sunset's breath caught in her throat. Professor Ozpin was dead? Professor Ozpin was … gone like his tower. The emerald lights that had gleamed in the sky over the past year had now ceased to burn, and so, too, the old man who had watched over them for the past year; he, too … his light had gone out.

The old man, the good old man, the old man whom Sunset had misjudged and distrusted and only lately come to respect and admire greatly. The old man who had put them in danger, who had recruited them into peril, who had asked much of them but who had nevertheless, after his fashion, done what he could to protect them.

The old man who had seen more in her than she had deserved to be seen.

Their leader was dead.

You tell me to return to school, Ruby, but Professor Goodwitch is not likely to want me in any capacity, as a student or as a servant against Salem. After all, Professor Goodwitch had made her dislike for Sunset — and the fact that she did not share Professor Ozpin's good opinion of her — quite clear.

Yet I would endure the exile to which you condemned me if only Professor Ozpin might live in recompense.

"Professor Ozpin?" Weiss cried. "But he stayed at Beacon! He didn't—" She glanced up and north towards Beacon, and towards the invisible Emerald Tower that had been laid to waste. "How could you know this? If the Professor was killed just now, when the tower fell, how would you know?"

"Ozpin wasn't killed when the tower fell; he was killed before," Ruby said, her eyes fixed on Sunset. "By Amber and her allies."

"'By Amber'?" Sunset repeated. "By Amber?"

"Amber?" Weiss asked. "You mean that girl you hung around with? Wasn't she Professor Ozpin's niece?"

"Amber?" Sunset said, ignoring Weiss. "Amber, but…" The words died in her throat.

Sunset's words died in her throat, but Cinder's words rose out of the dark depths of her mind. Cinder's words, and Sunset's own scornful words with which, secure in Amber's loyalty, she had dismissed them.

"Cinder," she whispered. "Cinder was telling the truth?"

"Cinder guessed right, seems like," Ruby said. "Pyrrha and Ozpin said that she didn't offer any proof, that's why you didn't believe her … but she was telling the truth. She used her semblance to put me to sleep during the tournament, then sneaked away during the attack on the school with Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Tempest Shadow."

"Dove?!" Sunset cried. "Dove too?"

"Jaune thinks not," Ruby said. "Jaune thinks Dove is only going along with it because he loves Amber." She shook her head. "Love is a weakness."

Sunset thought that Ruby was wrong about that, but even if she had been in the mood to contradict Ruby — which she wasn't — the present circumstances made it hard to argue the point. If love was a strength, after all, why had Dove gone along with Amber's treachery?

And yet, at the same time, for all of that, Sunset felt as though she ought to say something. "Without love, what is there to fight for?"

"Everyone, whether we like them or not," Ruby replied.

"I may not understand half of what you're talking about," Weiss said, "but you said that Amber and the others slipped away from Beacon during the grimm attack, but Professor Ozpin was alive when the attack was over, and everyone left, either for Vale or for the battlefield."

"They came back later, when the school was deserted," Ruby explained. "That's when they killed Ozpin."

They came back later when the school was deserted to get the Relic. "How?" Sunset asked. "And … and how do you know?"

"Lyra confessed to Rainbow Dash what they'd done, after Ozpin died," Ruby said. "She found her conscience a little late. Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha — and Sun — have gone to Beacon to try and stop Amber."

"And now it was your turn to stay behind," Weiss pointed out.

"I thought I could do more good with the huntsmen," Ruby said. "I thought … I hoped that maybe, if I got lucky, I could use my eyes on the dragon and kill it."

Sunset barely heard her. To be honest, her concentration had slipped from what Ruby was actually saying the moment that she'd said that everyone else — and Sun, apparently — had gone to Beacon to face Amber. To stop Amber, Ruby had said, but that might not be so easy; Amber was, after all, the Fall Maiden.

We beat Cinder. Cinder had half the Fall Maiden's magic too, but we beat her last night, and we didn't have Rainbow Dash with us then; you could even argue that we didn't have Blake.

You could also argue that Cinder didn't care whether she lived or died last night. That was what Sonata had said, after all, when she had castigated Sunset for ignoring Cinder, for turning her back on her, for throwing her to the wolves — or the Siren. She had alleged that Cinder had charged into battle with Team SAPR seeking death, and Cinder had not contradicted her.

Sunset doubted that Cinder would have contradicted Sonata, even if Sunset had listened to everything that she had to say instead of telling her that she didn't have time.

I had good reason to tell her that; Councillor Emerald had a bullet in his stomach.

And besides, I doubt she would have told me that she hadn't sought death last night; it made more sense as an explanation for what she did than any other.

The point was that, for Cinder, living or dying in the battle against Team SAPR had been almost beside the point; the readiness was all, the victory was nought; the only thing that mattered was the glorious charge into battle against the odds, unafraid. It had been the culmination of all of Cinder's Mistraliad fantasies, with Cinder herself as Pyrrha, or Juturna, or maybe a melange of both and several other characters besides, all those who saw ten thousand fates of death surrounding them and declared 'let us go, and either die yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves.'

Amber was of a different sort. Not for Amber the glorious charge, the courageous end with head held high, no; Amber was … Amber was more of Sunset's colour.

Mind, I never valued my own life as much as the lives of my friends.

Amber, though, valued her own life, as well she might. She wanted to live; she wanted to live with Dove; she wanted…

She wanted to be free of all of this, and so she had killed the man who loved her, and would give away the Relic to Salem, so that she would not be Salem's enemy anymore.

Cinder's words, Cinder's surmise, Cinder's theory that they had so badly wanted to dismiss, that they had not for a moment wanted to believe, made a terrible sense.

Amber wanted life and liberty, and so secure both she would… she had already shown the lengths that she would go.

Did you know how much he loved you, Amber? Did your fate make you incapable of believing it, or did you simply not care?

For all that Amber had done, and despite who she had done it to, Sunset could not … she could not find it in her to bear Amber great malice, to hate her, to condemn her, to feel anything other than sorrow. Sorrow for Ozpin yes, but sorrow for Amber too, now that the wave of disbelief had washed over her like an incoming tide. Amber had been scared, and Sunset knew only too well what fear could make one capable of; Amber had been wounded, and being wounded, had been understandably fearful, terrified, of further wounds.

Amber had been placed in a position for which she was unsuited by temperament, one that asked sacrifices of her that she was unwilling to make. Professor Ozpin should never have made her his Fall Maiden. That she had been placed in this position was a tragedy, one that had consumed Professor Ozpin himself, one which might yet consume Amber herself.

Or else it would consume Sunset's friends.

Sunset bore Amber no hate, but she feared her; she feared her on behalf of Pyrrha and Jaune and Penny and the Atlesians; she feared her because Amber was not Cinder. She would not look with sunshine upon a glorious death. She would fight to survive like a rat in a bolt hole, with all the might and magic at her command, and with that might and magic … who else might die tonight? Who else might be listed along with Professor Ozpin amongst the fallen?

So young, and I not with them.

Be kind, fate. Ten thousand fates stand further off.

Spare them until we meet again.

"Sunset," Weiss said, intruding upon Sunset's thoughts like a teacher asking after the homework. "Sunset, I know you're worried about them, but … try and pay attention, will you?" She paused a moment. "Look, I don't understand half of what you've been talking about, except I understand enough to know that there's a great deal that you aren't telling me. Fine. Keep your secrets, if you like, although whatever it is that you know must have been important to … to kill Professor Ozpin for and draw your friends and my friends away from the battle to Beacon. But leave that for now, if we must, if you like, since I am outside the circle of knowledge." She huffed and folded her arms. "Why did we see you come flying over the wall like this? What's happening on the other side?"

"The gates are shut," Ruby replied. "And it must be the same with all the gates or people wouldn’t be standing around outside this gate like they are. They're not letting anyone through; everyone is stuck on that side, including Leaf's mother and stepfather and stepsister, our mutual friend, Leaf. So I guess we do have a mutual friend."

"I have to admire your commitment to this," Weiss muttered.

"That doesn't make any sense," Sunset said. "Not about Leaf's family, but about the gates. Councillor Emerald ordered everyone to evacuate behind the Red Line; how are they supposed to do that when the gates shut? He announced it on television; how can his orders just be ignored?"

"Considering he's having emergency medical care, quite easily, I should think," replied Weiss.

"That's why I had Nora hit me over the wall," Ruby explained. "Because it was the only way I could get over the wall and because someone has to open the gate from this side and let everyone through before the grimm arrive."

"Are you…?" Weiss hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Wh— yes!" Ruby cried. "Weiss, didn't you hear what I just said?! There are people trapped on the wrong side of the wall, a lot of people."

"There are a lot of people on this side of the wall too," Weiss pointed out. "And, as you also pointed out, the grimm are coming. What if they get through the gate?"

"We can hold the gate," Ruby said.

"With all due respect, you haven't held the grimm at any other point, and at none of those other points were hordes of people trying to get past you to safety at the time," Weiss responded. "You're talking about putting the whole of Vale at risk to save a relatively small number of its people."

"It's a risk that we have to take," Ruby insisted. "We have to fight to save every life; that's what makes us huntresses."

"What makes us huntresses is that we kill monsters, nothing more or less," Weiss responded. "We don't have the right—"

"Councillor Emerald gave the order," Sunset said. "Councillor Emerald commanded the people of Vale to evacuate through this gate. The right or wrong is immaterial; the First Councillor has commanded it, and his command will be executed."

Weiss frowned. "And if Councillor Emerald had commanded you to fire on the Atlesians, as General Blackthorn did, would you execute that command also? Are all the soldiers who followed their insane commander in his instructions to be lauded for it?"

"First of all," Sunset said, "Councillor Emerald was not mad, and second of all, things that are different are not the same."

"So the difference is that you agree with Councillor Emerald?" asked Weiss.

"The difference is I owe him this service!" Sunset snapped. "I … I owe him this. I owe him more than this. This was his word, this was his wish, this was his avowed intent, declared to the whole of Vale, and I … I cannot substitute my judgement for his. Or your judgement, for that matter." She paused. "I couldn't keep him intact tonight; the least that I can do is what he would want me to do."

Ruby sighed, in what might be the clearest indication that her time with Sunset had not been as solely confined to dreams as she claimed.

"You can't know he would want this in these circumstances," Weiss said softly.

"I can't guess what he would want, no; I can only say what he said he wanted," Sunset said in answer.

"Do you really think this is the wrong thing to do?" asked Ruby. "You really think that we should turn our backs on these people?"

"No, I think that we should stand before them and fight as hard as we can," Weiss said. "But more than that … if being a huntress is about saving lives, then what about all the lives that you're putting at risk, how can they be worth less than the ones you want to save?"

"It's not about worth more or worth less," Ruby insisted. "It's about the fact that we can't make that choice."

"And yet, here you are," Weiss said, "making that choice." She folded her arms. "I won't try and stop you, but I think you should seriously consider—"

The dragon roared from beyond the walls, yet even louder than its roaring was the sound of screaming, hundreds or thousands of people screaming, screams so loud that the gunfire of the troops was almost drowned out completely.

The sounds of hands banging on the metal gate sounded as loud as a battering ram.

Then the gate exploded.

Sunset threw out her hands, conjuring a shield around Ruby, Weiss, and herself — at least, she hoped she did. The flash of light had been blinding; she couldn't see anything; she was magically fumbling, guessing the limits of the shield.

The shield was being impacted, that was being pounded on, that was subjected to a rain of objects hammering upon it, making her barrier quiver with every impact. Sunset poured more magic into the shields, feeling her knees quiver and her legs grow weak from the effort. When this was done, she doubted she would have a great many spells left in her tonight.

The impacts ceased. The noise died down; she couldn't hear the dragon's roars or the screams of the people. All she could hear was a mewling of pain, each individual noise soft but combining together into a fearful cacophony.

Sunset opened her eyes, and dropped her magical barrier.

A trench had been carved into the road, and in that trench, there were no people to be seen; on the edges of the trench, however, there were people, wounded people, desperately injured people, and it was from their mouths that came the pitiful mewlings and the cries of pain.

That trench, surely the work of the dragon, had driven through the Valish gate, or rather, where the Valish gate had been, because where the dragon's breath had struck the gate was gone.

The way into Vale was open, and it would not be closed again.

Author's Note

I honestly think that going for the most literalist definition of 'starting over' is the best that Sunset and Ruby can hope for at this point. Nevertheless Ruby can't completely keep up the act, when Sunset admits that she wants to open the gate not because she thinks its right but because an authority figure told her to do it, that's why she gives that sigh.

It's a bit of a cheat to have the dragon take away the choice that Ruby, Sunset and Weiss have been arguing about, but that's kind of the point: they each get to make their point and then the sheer power of the dragon renders it all meaningless, as it has done so many other things over the course of this battle.

Dragon Dropped (New)

Dragon Dropped

Sunset’s eyes were wide as she stared at the gate.

At what remained of the gate, of the ruin of the gate — and of those unfortunate enough to have been caught up in the blast that had destroyed the gate.

At the gate that was gone.

The dragon had opened up the way to Vale, and all that was missing was a grimm horde to pour through that way.

They were not here yet, but judging by the sounds of gunfire, they were uncomfortably close.

The way into Vale was open whenever they chose to get here, and the only thing that was stopping them from walking through the door the dragon had so obligingly opened for them was the resistance that stood in their way: the huntsmen and huntresses of Beacon, Atlas, and Haven, plus the Atlesian soldiers that remained.

In the meantime, the gate was a ruin; the centre of the metal barrier had been blasted and melted away, and jagged, twisted, molten edges were all that remained of the gate on either side. The concrete archway, too, was gone, obliterated by the dragon’s breath, and the edges of the arch on either side of the blast were starting to crumble away; an anti-air gun mounted atop the gateway fell to the ground with a smash and a clatter as its mounting gave way beneath it, and soldiers of the Valish Defence Force scrambled to get to safety lest they, too, should fall.

A great trench had been carved in the road, the tarmac gone, the markings wiped clean, only a great scar in the earth — a scar that was lined with the wounded, burned men and women crying out for assistance.

They lined the scar which, like an arrow, pointed the way for the grimm into the city, when the grimm should appear.

And now, with the grimm yet delayed for now, the scar pointed the way for the mass of people who had been huddled beyond the wall and who now poured in through the shattered gate.

Like the water held back by the dam, which bursts through the slightest crack to flood the valley beyond, just so, the people of Vale, the people who had been told by Councillor Emerald to evacuate the city but had then found themselves denied access by the door slammed in their faces, now flooded through. They cared not for the wounded beneath their feet; they seemed to care little for one another, or for good order, or for anything but their fear, and their desire to put distance between themselves and the grimm who must surely be approaching now.

And so, they flooded into Vale, even though Vale could no longer be called a place of safety with the gate destroyed.

Nevertheless, the frightened people flooded in, and the cries of the wounded changed from cries of pain to cries of terror as they were trampled beneath the stampeding feet of all these people trying to get through. People fell, and Sunset could not see them rise again; she could see so little, so little beyond the sheer mass of people flooding forward in a tide — an unstoppable tide that would sweep them away if it hit them. They could not resist it. Their aura would be pummelled beneath pounding feet that hammered them as fiercely as any enemy.

“We need to move!” Weiss shouted.

Ruby was the first to get clear, escaping the onward path of the crowd near instantly, leaving only rose petals like drops of blood in her wake, to be trampled down by the crowd as they rushed down the trench. Sunset and Weiss were a little slower; Sunset picked up her bike in her telekinesis because otherwise, if she just left it there, then somebody was going to trip over it, and if that happened, they were liable to get their face stepped on.

They made it clear, both of them, all three of them, like swimmers reaching the bank of a river in spate, letting the flood of frantic, frightened people rush past them in all their terror — and with all the consequences for those caught in the flood.

There was nothing they could do. There was nothing that huntsmen could do about this. What could they do, charge into the frightened crowd with weapons drawn? Perhaps, at some point tonight, the right words — from Councillor Emerald, or Professor Ozpin, or someone that these people had cause to trust and to listen to — might have calmed them down, brought some order to the chaos, inspired or encouraged or shamed these people into calming down and proceeding through the gate in an orderly manner, but not now. Not after they had been stuck outside for so long, not with that dragon in the skies above, not with the grimm pressing against the defences, not with the gunfire of the Atlesians sounding so close, not with Atlesian airships roaring overhead, missiles streaking out from beneath their wings.

It was all much too dangerous now, and all these people were much too frightened. Nothing would stop them, least of all three students.

And it was hard, no, impossible, to blame them for what they might do in all their fear; it wasn’t their fault that things had reached this pass.

Sunset, Ruby, and Weiss stood beside the wall, half-pressed up against the black concrete barrier that still rose up into the air, watching as the people flooded past them.

“Leaf’s family is there,” Ruby murmured. “At least, they were outside the walls; I saw them: her mom, her stepdad, her stepsister. I hope they make it through okay.”

“'Make it through'?” Weiss asked. “Make it through what? The gate is gone, the wall is … breached. One side of the wall is no safer than the other.”

“That’s not true,” Ruby insisted. “It’s like I said, the gateway is a chokepoint, and that’s true whether there’s an actual gate or just a hole in the wall; it’s still a gap which can be defended much more easily than anywhere else on the outskirts of Vale. Once everyone gets through, then all the huntsmen and the soldiers can fall back to the gateway and—”

“And stuff their bodies in the breach?” Sunset asked. “That might work, but not—”

The dragon roared triumphantly as it circled overhead. It did not dive down, it did not attack, it did not unleash another torrent of its glowing, burning breath; it merely circled overhead, as though the struggles of all those down below, their fear, their frantic desire to reach a place of greater safety, were a source of great pleasure and amusement to it.

Perhaps they were. If the grimm were attracted to negative emotions, then perhaps it stood to reason that it gave them pleasure, that the emotions themselves satisfied them, if not as much as the killing.

Or perhaps, for this dragon, killing was so easy and so lacking in challenge that it preferred to stand back a little and simply marinade in the terror that it spread by its very presence.

Either way, if one of those explanations was correct, if not, for whatever reason, if there was a reason, the dragon did not attack. It circled overhead, over the ruins of the gate that it had smashed aside like it was nothing, raising its head up to the shattered moon and roaring out its victory.

Roaring for the rest of the grimm to sweep aside all obstacles and reach the city that now lay wide open before them.

“That might work,” Sunset said again, once the dragon’s roars had ceased long enough for her to get a word in edgeways, “but not with that thing up there.” She pointed up at the dragon. “Unless we can find some way to bring that grimm down, then nothing else that we do is going to matter.”

Ruby sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “You’re right,” she admitted. “We can try and defend the chokepoint, but that dragon could just blast us all to nothing with its breath if it wanted to, or drop an Atlesian cruiser on our heads, or … I think, I’m sure that if we could just get the dragon out of the way, then we could hold the gap against the rest of the grimm, if only until…” She trailed off.

“Until what?” asked Weiss.

Until everything at Beacon is settled, I suppose, Sunset thought. Until Pyrrha and the others … until they stop Amber.

Or…

Sunset didn’t want to think too deeply upon the ‘or’ part, though it scarcely required any thought; the ‘or’ was obvious. Either they would defeat Amber, or else…

Almost as worrying, almost as troubling, almost as much a load upon the mind was the question of what a victory for their friends would mean. Would it mean Amber dead, her blood upon Miló’s red-and-gold blade?

That was … Amber had become an enemy too recently for Sunset to regard her death with even equanimity.

Even had she been their enemy for longer, even had Sunset known that she was their enemy for longer, for as long as it seemed that she had been their enemy, nevertheless, she could not have brought herself to wish for Amber’s death.

Death was too ill a thing to wish on her.

It was too ill a thing for Sunset to wish it upon anyone.

But all of that … all of that was out of Sunset’s hands. That was for Pyrrha, for Jaune, for Penny and all the rest; it was all for them to deal with, including Amber’s fate if they should triumph over her as Sunset hoped they would.

For Sunset’s part, for her part and Ruby’s part and Weiss’ part, there was the dragon in the skies above, the dragon that would laugh at all their plans and toss them all aside like a bad sport throwing the board across the room.

Unless they could kill it.

“Until … it doesn’t matter,” Ruby said. “The point is that the grimm won’t keep attacking forever, and I’m sure that we can hold them off, if only we can kill the dragon so it can’t just destroy everything that gets in its way.” She growled wordlessly. “If only I could get my…”

“If only you could finish a sentence,” Weiss muttered.

I’m guessing that this is something like ‘if only I could use my silver eyes,’ Sunset thought. That would be pretty useful right about now. But Professor Ozpin, who might have been able to tell Ruby how to use her silver eyes, had never gotten around to it.

And now he was dead, and would never divulge the secret.

“I’ve got … I’ve got a power that would — or that might — let me take that thing down,” Ruby explained. “It’s in my eyes, sort of; the trouble is, I don’t know how to use it.”

Weiss’ own eyes, icy blue instead of silver, narrowed somewhat. “A power? But your semblance—”

“It’s not a semblance, it’s…” Ruby trailed off again, which might have become very annoying for Weiss if she hadn’t moved on quickly afterwards. “It doesn’t matter what it is, especially since I don’t know how it works. It almost worked, before, after Yang … but the dragon attacked me before it could really … destroy it, and the spell was broken, and the dragon flew away. The only times it’s ever worked, twice, were when someone’s life has been in danger.”

“Well, I suppose someone could always throw themselves into that creature’s mouth,” Weiss suggested dryly. “Although I’d prefer not to volunteer if there are any other options.”

“This isn’t…” Ruby began, but paused. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask that. I wouldn’t ask anyone to do that. Not when I’m not certain that it would work anyway. But, at the same time, I … I don’t know what else we can do. Everyone’s thrown everything they’ve got at this thing, and it’s still there, as powerful as ever.”

“The Mistralians say that such creatures have weak points,” Sunset pointed out. “At least in their stories.”

“And in Valish stories, this grimm died centuries ago at the hands of Percy!” Ruby snapped. “Maybe stories are just stories sometimes!” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that—”

“It’s fine,” Sunset muttered. “It’s been a long night. And you could be right, maybe it doesn’t have a weak spot, in which case … I don’t know what we’ll do, except maybe somebody really will have to jump into the dragon’s mouth in hope of activating Ruby’s eyes.” But it couldn’t be me because Ruby wouldn’t care at this point, and since I can’t do it myself, I’m not about to seriously suggest that anyone else should do it instead. “But, if we have any other options, any at all, then I think we should explore them, don’t you?”

“Do we have any other options?” Ruby asked. “Or do we just have the hope of another option? Are you just hoping that there might be a weak point, somewhere, that will let us bring this dragon down, or do you have some reason to think that there is one even though none of the rest of us have seen it?”

“You might have,” Sunset replied. She folded her arms. “Do you remember a specific bone plate, on the dragon’s breast, just below the shoulder, around where you’d expect its heart to be?”

Ruby frowned. “The dragon … has a lot of bone plates.”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, it doesn’t, not really, not like you’d expect from a grimm of that size. It’s got a big thick skull, it’s got visible ribs and some bone spurs on its shoulders and knees, but not a lot of bone, not like you’d see on an alpha beowolf or an ursa major. Not a lot of armour; it’s mostly black. It’s actually a little odd.”

“Perhaps it can’t fly with too much weight,” Weiss suggested.

Perhaps, but I’m not sure how well this thing obeys the laws of physics, Sunset thought.

“Or maybe it needs to have a lot of flesh showing to drip down that grimm goo that spawns other grimm,” Ruby suggested. “You’ve seen that, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Weiss murmured.

“Or perhaps it just doesn’t need bone because it’s practically invincible even without,” Ruby said sharply. “Invulnerable, whatever.”

“In which case, why does it have a patch of bone plate above its heart, or where its heart would be?” Sunset asked. “Could it be that that particular armour plate is concealing something, that it’s protecting something?”

Weiss folded her arms across her chest. “That feels like quite the reach.”

“Are we not operating in the realm of vast reaches at this point?” Sunset replied. “Are we not at the point where we need a million to one chance that just might work? Haven’t we shot past the point at which we can only look at the obvious solutions?”

“Yes,” Ruby said. “Yeah, we are. We definitely are. We have to consider all options, definitely, but…” She pulled out Crescent Rose, holding it upwards as the large scythe unfolded in her hands, the barrel extending outwards and upwards, the scythe blade extending with a sequence of clicks. Ruby held the rifle slightly awkwardly; being held up like this, it looked a little tricky to put it to her shoulder, but she was able to get her eye to the scope nonetheless.

Crescent Rose shifted a little in her grasp, as she deliberately weaved the weapon up and down, left and right, trying — Sunset guessed — to keep the dragon in view. She made a sort of tsking sound. “I can’t see well enough. With this wall in the way, I can’t get a good enough view, the dragon keeps passing onto the other side; I need to get higher.”

“Allow me,” Weiss replied as she drew Myrtenaster from her hip with a slight flourish. She gestured with the slender, needle-like blade, and a staircase of glowing white glyphs began to appear in the air beside her, a diagonal staircase of glyphs climbing upwards towards the top of the wall.

“Thanks, Weiss,” Ruby called as she took the lead in leapfrogging up the staircase of glyphs, moving from left to right, then left again, every jump bringing her a little higher up the black wall that rose above them.

Ruby was moving quickly, easily outpacing Weiss as she tried to follow, and so rather than using Weiss’ glyphs herself, Sunset used reverse gravity to lift herself upwards through the air, floating upwards towards the top of the wall.

Considering that she couldn’t see a nearby staircase or lift, it was just as well that they had other means of getting up the top of this wall; otherwise, they might have had to go considerably out of their way in order to get up here.

Ruby reached the top first, with Sunset close behind and then Weiss bringing up the rear afterwards, panting a little as she finally leapt off her last glyph — the others had all vanished behind her, fading into nothingness — after Sunset, her spell ceased, had dropped down onto the rampart.

The wall that marked and constituted Vale’s Red Line, its final line of defence, the point beyond which the grimm could not be allowed to pass, was wide, wide enough for a large number of people — twenty, maybe, twelve at least — to walk abreast along the parapet where now the three huntresses stood. It was wide enough to accommodate the great guns to be mounted not only on top of the wall, but also within it too, the guns that could be seen protruding from the outside of the wall as one approached the gate.

None of those guns were firing now, though Sunset could see at least one gun as clear as the moonlight allowed, its large barrel pointed upwards at a forty-five degree angle; the gun itself seeming to be mounted on rails which ran for a short distance along the wall, allowing the gun to shift position somewhat.

But it wasn’t firing. Sunset couldn’t even see for sure if it had a crew. In fact, considering the situation, there were not very many soldiers up here at all. The wall was not deserted, but the defenders of Vale were few and far between, and getting fewer as soldiers ran past Sunset, Ruby, and Weiss, heading away from the dragon, if nowhere else.

Mind, considering the situation, considering what had happened, perhaps the small number of soldiers wasn’t too surprising.

“Cowards,” Weiss muttered, her voice loaded with contempt.

“They’re scared,” Ruby said, quietly but with evident reproach in her own voice sufficient to match all Weiss’ contempt.

Weiss snorted. “Listen to those guns,” she said, gesturing out beyond the wall, out into the outskirts of Vale from whence they could hear the firing of the Atlesian troops. “You don’t think our boys out there are scared? But you don’t see them running away, do you?”

“'Our boys'?” Sunset asked.

Weiss didn’t respond.

Ruby’s hands tightened their grip around Crescent Rose. “Just because they’re afraid, doesn’t mean that … it’s not a reason for us to judge them, just because we’re braver than they are.”

She glanced at Sunset, or at least Sunset thought that she did, or might have done. She probably hadn’t, actually. It was hard for Sunset to make out.

It didn’t matter either way.

“Would it be better if they stayed?” Ruby went on. “Maybe, probably, except … what are they going to do against that thing up there?” She paused. “What are…?” She trailed off and turned away from Weiss, once more raising her scythe and rifle upwards, placing her eye to the scope — even if she had to do so in a slightly ungainly fashion — to look at the dragon as it circled in the air above the broken gate.

Waiting for its legions to break through the defences and swarm through the open door, Sunset thought.

“I think…” Ruby said. “I think I see what Sunset is talking about. An armour plate, on its own, with nothing around it.”

“That’s not so unusual,” Weiss pointed out. “Most grimm don’t have complete suits of armour; there are usually gaps between the plates of bone.”

“Yeah, but this … it just looks strange, like it doesn’t fit. Sunset could have a point; it could be hiding something,” Ruby said. She lowered Crescent Rose. “And Sunset’s right; we need to take any chance that we can at this point. I don’t know about the Atlesians, but with the numbers of the grimm, I … I don’t know how long the Beacon and Haven students can hold them off on the left flank.”

“Okay,” Weiss said. “But what is the change, what is the plan? You say that the weak spot is the bone plate?”

“No,” Sunset replied. “I think, assuming that I’m on anything like the right track with this, which I might not be, then the armour is protecting the weak spot, and that if we can break it or shatter it in some way, then that will reveal the dragon’s weak spot, and we can kill it.”

“Very well,” Weiss muttered. “As you’ve admitted, it’s a long shot, but what makes it even longer is that … how are we supposed to crack or remove or do anything to that specific armour plate, that has endured laser fire and missiles and everything else? If it’s stayed intact and in place throughout all of that, then what are we supposed to do to it?”

Sunset didn’t reply right away. It was a hard question to reply to. The answer, or at least the obvious answer, the answer that sprung to mind, was that the alternative was to admit that the dragon was invincible and just give up, and nobody wanted that — or at least, Sunset hoped that nobody wanted that. But it wasn’t much of an answer, was it, to say that something was the only option so it would have to work? It wasn’t a plan; it wasn’t an answer to how they were going to do something.

And yet, they would have to find some way to make it work, because they might be out of other options — unless Ruby could make her silver eyes work right now, with no instruction and no training.

But how? Weiss had asked a very good question: what were they going to do? What were they supposed to do? How were they supposed to defeat something that had withstood all assaults of its enemies up until this point?

“It’s not invulnerable,” Ruby said. “It’s been hurt already; you can see, there’s a wound on its side.”

“There is?” Sunset asked.

“Yes, on its left flank, you can see it,” Ruby said, holding up Crescent Rose to her eye once more. She held the rifle there for a moment, tracking the dragon’s movements, until she said, “There! Right there, between the second and third ribs, and just above them.” She stepped back, letting someone else peer into the scope of Crescent Rose.

Weiss stepped up first, sidling in beside Ruby and bending down — not that she had to bend down much — to look down the sights of the rifle. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, I see. I wonder what did that. It’s a sizable injury too. I wonder why nothing else has been able to replicate it?”

“What is it?” Sunset asked.

“See for yourself,” Weiss answered as she stepped away.

As Weiss stepped back, Sunset stepped around Ruby. She had to bend down a little more than Weiss had done in order to get low enough and to see through the scope from the right angle, but she was able to do it, and she looked up at the dragon that now seemed much larger in her sight — alarmingly so.

At first, Sunset couldn’t see anything; the dragon had turned away again and was presenting its right side to her, not its left. But Ruby kept the scope fixed upon the enormous grimm, and eventually, as it continued to circle lazily above, smug in its own invulnerability, Sunset could see what Ruby had been talking about.

Between the dragon’s second and third ribs, and just above them, just as Ruby had said, was a great gash in the grimm’s flank, a gaping, yawning maw in the grimm’s black flesh as though a great spear had been driven into its side. A pit into the blackness, from which only more blackness, more grimm essence, could be beheld.

But it showed that the dragon could be wounded; Sunset did not believe, not for a moment, that such a chasm in its flesh was a part of the dragon naturally; that had been done to it by someone or something.

Someone or something, whoever they were, had demonstrated that though the dragon might be proof against lasers or missiles, it was not proof against every assault or every weapon.

It could be hurt. They had a chance.

A slim chance, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless.

And any chance was better than no chance at all in circumstances such as these.

But what to do, what to do, what to do? Just because the dragon could be injured by something — as good a something as that was to know — didn't mean that…

But you could think yourself into despair with thoughts like that, think yourself into a state of utter helplessness that was no, well, no use to anybody.

The dragon could be hurt; that meant they had to assume that they could hurt it, otherwise what was the point? They had to assume that or give up, just like they had to assume that it had a weakness, and proceed on a growing tower of assumptions because they were the only hope they had.

The only thing they had to go on.

The dragon could be hurt, some brave soul had proven that, which meant that if they could only … Sunset stopped, calling a halt to her thoughts which had, like an army in pursuit, scattered all over the battlefield seeking the enemy here and there and at their camp. Now, Sunset sounded the rally on her trumpet and recalled them to order, reordering her lines for best advantage.

The fire from the Atlesian airships, great or small, had not fazed the grimm, so if they were assuming so much else, they could similarly surmise that none of their smaller firearms would do what lasers and missiles could not and crack that plate of armour.

Possibly, it would also be a poor idea to rely on some blunt physical force to shatter the plate also. But if they could … pull it off, or slice it off, or in some like way remove it, then perhaps…

The dragon could be injured, and just as importantly, it looked as though that particular injury had come from a piercing blow, like a great lance or a sword thrust forward. If the dragon could be injured that way once, why not again?

"If we can get close enough," Sunset said, "then we can slice the bone plate off like slicing the rotten bit off a baking potato."

Weiss made a wordless noise of disgust.

"You think that will work?" asked Ruby.

"I think it's worth a shot," replied Sunset.

"I think just about anything is worth a shot," Ruby responded. "But how—?"

"How are we going to get close enough?" Weiss guessed.

Ruby nodded. "Exactly. It's come down before, but do we just want to wait until it does?"

"No," Sunset replied. "Apart from anything else, it might not, not again. No, we need to draw it down, to us." She took a deep breath as her thoughts continued to advance in a steady, disciplined line. "I'll get the dragon's attention and draw it down onto myself," she said. "When it comes down, Weiss will help Ruby slice away the bone plate, and then, if that reveals a weakness as we hope it will, you can shoot it or stab it or shoot it and stab it and bring this thing down, and take the grimm's strongest piece off the board."

There was a pause, a moment of quiet on the wall before Weiss said, "And if there is no weak spot? If the idea that there is is as much a Mistralian nonsense as the Valish nonsense of this particular grimm being killed by a hero centuries ago?"

"Then we try and survive long enough to come up with a new plan," Sunset said.

Weiss snorted. "Fair enough."

"If you get the dragon's attention," Ruby said, "if it's chasing you, then it will be moving too quickly — or it might be — for Weiss and me to do what we have to do." She paused. "There's a girl, a Shade student, Umber Gorgoneion. Her semblance lets her freeze things in place with her gaze. We've used it on the dragon once already; if we get her help—"

"Won't the grimm be expecting that, if you've already caught it with that trick once?" asked Weiss. "I can hold it still with my glyphs, for a little while, if need be."

"Can you?" asked Sunset. "With a grimm so big?"

"Yes," Weiss said. "If not for long."

"I don't like the idea of trying this with just the three of us," said Ruby. "I've already blown one chance at taking this thing down, and…" She shook her head, only once, but vigorously. "It's not going to keep giving us free shots at it. This might be our last chance; we need more people who can take over if anything happens to us. Ren and Nora at least, maybe a few others if they can be spared from the fighting. Just so it doesn't all depend on us."

Sunset nodded. That made sense. "Who do you have in mind?"

Sunset stood on the ground, in the street, in the part of Vale that lay beyond the walls, beyond the shattered Freedom Gate.

Sunset understood from Ruby that this part of the city had been jam-packed not too long ago, cramped with all the people who had come on the Councillor's words and found the gate shut to them. Yet now, these exposed Valish suburbs were quiet. Everyone had fled through the ruins of the gate — or been trampled trying to flee through the ruins of the gate — and there was no one left out here, beyond the suddenly dubious safety of the breached walls and broken gate.

That was all to the good. The idea of trying to pull this off amidst a heaving, frightened crowd … it was too monstrous to bear thinking about.

But they had fled, and though the place they had fled to might not be much safer for them if the grimm broke through, nevertheless, they had done the huntsmen a service: they had cleared the stage for the performance.

Sunset was all alone. She knew that there were others nearby, Ruby and Weiss, Ren and Nora amongst them, but she couldn't see them. They were concealed amongst the suburban buildings that lurked about the shadow of the mighty walls, concealed from the dragon's view as much as from Sunset's eyes.

With luck on their side, it wouldn't suspect a thing.

They would need luck on their side for more than that, of course. But it would be a good start.

It was … inconvenient to be down here on the street, so far below the dragon as it circled overhead; from the perspective of her own part in all this, it would have been better to have been up on the wall and closer to the target. But the wall — wide for a wall though it was — was too narrow and too lacking in concealment for the other elements of their plan to come together.

Up on the wall, everybody else would have been too exposed. Down here, only Sunset was exposed, by design.

She bore the black sword, so she would play the Mistralian warrior's part and face the enemy head on, beneath the light of the moon while all others hid like bandits and waited for their ideal moment.

Sunset did not object to that, but being so far below the dragon did complicate the question of getting its attention.

Even if she was able to hurt it, attacks that might have done so when closer might lose much potency over the great divide of open sky that lay between.

Yet she had to get its attention nonetheless, or the whole plan would collapse.

Sunset tugged on studded lapels of her leather jacket, adjusting the fit; it had started to lie a little crooked.

She looked down at her hands, enfolded within the white silk of her bridal gloves that had gotten a little dirty and in need of dry cleaning.

She held out those hands on the stained and grubby gloves, holding them out away from her, stretching the sleeves of her jacket as though she were straining to show that there was nothing up said sleeves.

"Okay," Sunset muttered. "Let's do this."

Sunset cast the first spell on herself, a spell colloquially known as Meadowbrook's Magical Microphone — colloquially known because they hadn't had microphones in Mage Meadowbrook's day — to amplify her own voice. Sadly, it didn't imbue her voice with any Siren-like special abilities, but it did make her very loud.

Loud enough that her voice resounded to the heavens, striking the stars and the ears of the dragon besides as she shouted, "Hey! Down here, you monstrous blackguard!"

That was not, perhaps, the best opener ever, but there would be no point in using the good lines before the dragon had started paying attention. If it only perked its ears up partway through, it wouldn't have any idea what she was talking about.

As it was, as far away as they were, Sunset saw — thought she saw, hoped she saw, needed to believe she saw — the dragon's giant bony skull turn downwards in her direction.

"That's right, you remember me, don't you?" Sunset asked, and even those words were magnified by the spell so that they boomed out across Vale.

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back. She did not set the blade on fire, because it wasn't drama so much as gravitas that Sunset was after right now. She didn't know how good the dragon's eyesight was, but she wanted it to be able to see the black and venerable blade itself, unobstructed by any flames or artifice.

Sunset raised the sword beside her head, her feet shifting into a high guard stance, sword drawn back and poised to strike.

Not that it really mattered, but as she stood there, an ancient sword of heroic antiquity in her hands, with a monster among monsters hovering overhead, Sunset fancied that she looked every inch the hero.

Hopefully, the dragon thought so too, and didn't think to wonder if this might be a setup.

"My name," Sunset shouted, her voice echoing through the empty streets and across the yawning expanse of sky, "is Sunset Shimmer. In my hands, I bear Soteria, which was carried for the Emperors of Mistral down through generations! This sword has tasted of the flesh of mightier grimm than you, great though you are, and now shall taste of yours if you will not but come in reach!"

The dragon laughed, that unpleasant, grating, saw-like laugh that seemed to whip back and forth as it sliced through Sunset's ears. It had no need to speak; that laugh was all the answer it need give: why should it, a mighty grimm, a lord of the battlefield, descend in every sense to answer the challenge of a single girl?

"Are you a coward, then?" Sunset demanded. "Does the great beast know fear?"

The dragon growled, a soft growl by its standards, but even a soft growl from such a creature echoed through the night.

Sunset fought to control the trembling in her knees. "No? Yet it must be so, or why do you hang so safe up there and not come down to swat me like a fly?"

The dragon roared now, a great bellowing roar that echoed off the houses, that echoed off the Red Line wall, that echoed back and forth and through Sunset's ears and her whole body and made her tremble, though Sunset sought to hide her trembling. She cast another spell, this one to muffle her ears; what would have protected her from the Sirens song would surely also protect her from the dragon's shriek which, they said, could undo any heart that was less untouched by fear than Ruby's was.

And she thought the dragon might shriek; it would deal with the accusation of cowardice by making a coward of its foe, by undoing their heart and setting them to flight.

But if Sunset could seem to withstand its call, then … then she might get its attention.

And so, Sunset stood firm while the dragon opened its mouth gaping wide, though she knew not what sound now emerged from it.

Whatever it was, Sunset stood firm as though she, too, were without fear.

"Coward!" she roared, though Sunset could no longer hear her own voice speaking. "I am the bearer of the black sword, champion of the House of Nikos, and I am not afraid. Come down, creature of the dark, come down, great wyrm, or flee back to your mountain lair and let all know you were afraid to face a single huntress!"

Now, they would see the vanity of this grimm. Now, they would see how surfeit swollen up with pride it was. Now they would see how easy it was to prick the ego of such a monster.

Frankly, if it were her, Sunset would have quite an ego indeed. If she were so invulnerable, able to shrug off all the fire of Atlas, able to lay waste to armies and pierce the defences of great cities so they lay open to the hordes of grimm, she would be very proud indeed. Proud and vain and ill-disposed to suffer slights from little huntresses with old swords.

Plus, there was the fact that grimm were made to kill. It was what, according to Professor Ozpin, they had been made for by the old gods of Remnant. To destroy, to kill, that was their reason, and for younger grimm, it was their only thought. Older grimm could master the killing extinct, to an extent, but it remained there at their core. Restraint did not come naturally to these monsters as violence did.

And when instinct united with vanity…

The dragon swooped down, red wings swept back on either side, neck extended out and forwards and straight towards Sunset as it fell upon her like a thunderbolt.

Sunset couldn't hear the dragon's sound, but with its mouth gaping open, she thought it must be roaring fiercely as it descended on her, the impudent impugnar of its courage.

Sunset dropped the spell that was amplifying her voice, though she kept on muffling her ears lest the dragon shriek again.

"Come on," she muttered. "Come on."

The dragon came down out of the sky like a wolf on the fold, its immense skull gleaming brilliant white under the light of the fractured moon.

It swept down on Sunset, not so much flying as falling through the skies towards her. Its mouth was open gaping wide, wide enough to swallow an airship whole, never mind an impertinent huntress.

But the yellow light that was beginning to glow in the depths if the dragon's maw said it had other thoughts than swallowing her in mind.

Sunset took one hand away from the cold hilt of Soteria; her dirty gloves were wreathed in green as a bolt of magic leapt from her palm and flew like an arrow straight into the dragon's open mouth.

Sunset couldn't hear the sound the dragon made, she couldn't hear what cry of pain or irritation burst from it, but though her ears were muffled, she could see plain as day the way those monstrous jaws snapped shut, the way the way that great head upon that long neck wriggled like a worm on a hook, the way that it fairy jumped upwards, the way the dragon shook its head from side to side as though it had swallowed a bee.

Sunset had hoped — a little less than half hoped — that the power the dragon had been building up might explode in its own gullet and blow its head off. It was not to be, but she was gratified by the fact that she seemed to have pained the creature nonetheless.

At the very least, judging by the way its red eyes seemed to burn hotter than before, she had enraged it. It glared at her with a burning gaze as it completed its descent, dropping down almost to the level of the street as great wings beat to drive it on. Those same wings crushed the upper levels of three-storey houses with their beating, leaving collapsing rubble and roof tiles sliding down onto the road in its wake, whilst its claws dragged along the tarmac, leaving long scars running down the road.

The dragon's mouth was closed now; Sunset thought it had been put off trying to eat her lest she toss another spell down its throat. Instead, it would scoop her up in its claws, or perhaps seek to catch her in that tail that swiped eagerly from side to side behind it.

Sunset grinned as she dropped the spell to muffle her ears, and — just in case the dragon changed its mind about opening its mouth — she hit it with another spell that flew from her palm.

One that sewed up its mouth completely. The monstrous jaws of the monstrous grimm vanished from view, replaced by what was or seemed almost a mask, a mask of solid bone from which only muffled sounds of incandescent fury could emerge, half heard and indistinct as the dragon tossed its head from one side to the other.

It would swallow nothing now, though it had weapons enough still to make it dangerous.

Sunset roared in challenge as the dragon closed in, all its monstrous, furious attention fixed upon her.

The dragon swept down the street, intent on Sunset, only for a trio of white glyphs, brilliant white, shining like the moon in darkness, to appear around its neck, just before its shoulders. Two more glyphs appeared, then another, then another, all of them shimmering into sight around the dragon's neck like ornate collars as the dragon was stopped dead in its tracks.

The dragon tried to roar through its mouthless bone mask as it shook its head, its neck, its whole entire body from side to side, trying to break free. It beared its wings trying to push forwards, but for now, it was held fast by Weiss' semblance.

The first huntress to emerge out of concealment was Nora, cackling loudly as she burst out of a roof, tiles flying around her, with Magnhild drawn back. She landed on top of the dragon's neck, just behind the head, and clung on with one hand as with the other she brandished her hammer above her head and brought it down upon the dragon's skull.

The dragon shook its head furiously, slamming into the buildings on either side in its efforts to throw Nora off. Its tail whipped up, reaching for her with its three claws, but Ren was the next to come out of hiding, leaping through the same hole Nora had made, following her onto the dragon's neck, turning his Stormflowers upon its tail. Both pistols blazed away, and when the tail got too close, he slashed at it with the blades mounted beneath the barrels.

One of Weiss' glyphs shattered, dissolving into nothing as the dragon pushed forwards.

Sunset charged with a great shout, and so did others as they, too, emerged from their hiding places: Arslan Altan, Coco Adel, Neptune Vasilias, Umber Gorgoneion, and Gregory Douglas, all that could be spared from the fighting against the grimm pushing inwards towards the shattered gate. Sunset understood from Ruby that they had assailed the dragon with more the last time, with all the strength of Beacon and Haven combined.

Hopefully, the dragon did not take their reduced numbers as an indication of lack of effort on their part.

The five of them charged from the ground floor, bursting out of doors or smashing through windows; they charged towards the dragon, and Sunset charged too, firing magical bolts towards it as she ran.

They attacked the dragon's feet, and they struck down the juvenile grimm that rose from the dripping pools of black grimm ooze that fell from the dragon to land upon the scarred tarmac. Arslan's fists and feet alike flew as she leapt up to pummel the dragon's ankles, then dropped down to deal with some juveniles. Coco's rotary machine gun sprayed bullets upwards to rake the dragon's flank. Neptune switched fluidly between gun and polearm modes, shooting the dragon or stabbing the juveniles as appropriate. Umber had two whips, one for her giant opponent and another for the small fry. Gregory laid about him with his greatsword.

Sunset used her sword to strike down the newly spawned grimm, and would sometimes stab upwards unto the pads of the dragon's feet or thrust her black sword between its claws, even as she fired bolt after bolt into its not so soft underbelly.

They assailed the dragon whenever their strength allowed them, whenever the incessantly spawning juvenile grimm allowed them. They hit the grimm with everything they had.

Almost as though they were trying to hurt it.

And then, as the dragon pushed through glyph after glyph that held it fast, as it shattered Weiss' glyphs faster than she could replace them, and as the dragon became accustomed to attack from down below, Ruby struck.

She leapt through a second-storey window, shards of shattered glass flying around her as surely as rose petals. She flew through the air, Crescent Rose drawn back in her hands, the immense scythe flying behind her even more than her blood red cape as she flew past the front of the dragon.

And like a knife severing the crust from the loaf of bread, she sliced through the dragon's black flesh to cut the armour plate from off its breast.

The bone plate fell, and began to turn to ashes even as it fell, and on the dragon's breast, below its shoulder, where its heart would have been if it had a heart, there was revealed a red and throbbing mark, pulsating with a strange energy, dark red waves rippling slightly across the dragon's black flesh.

It looked … it looked almost as though the dragon did have a heart after all, and they had uncovered it.

Sunset wanted to cheer as she stabbed downwards through the neck of a juvenile boarbatusk spawned out of black grimm ooze. She wanted to howl in triumph but forced restraint upon herself — for now. That mark, that pulsing mark, was surely something important to the grimm, and when they—

The dragon burst through the last of Weiss' glyphs, the white collar that had restrained it dissolving into nothing. The dragon's legs touched the claw-scarred tarmac of the road for just long enough to kick off it, shattering the road yet more beneath its power as the dragon took to the skies once more. Nora and Ren leapt off the dragon's back before it rose too high, both of them dodging the grasping claws of the dragon's tail as they landed heavily upon the ground below.

The dragon's roars were muffled by the absence of a mouth as its wings beat furiously, carrying it upwards. Coco's rotary gun spat bullets, tracer rounds so fast they looked like laser bolts slamming into the grimm, but it had its rump and tail to them, and Coco's fire did not find the newly revealed weak point.

The dragon rose, upwards and upwards, out of reach of the swords and fists of the huntsmen and huntresses, and as it rose, it roared, the sounds muffled—

A blast of yellow energy ripped from the dragon's throat to blast a hole in the bone mask that Sunset's magic had made of its mouth. With a cracking, tearing sound that could be heard below, it tore its own mouth open, shattering the bone in jagged edges until it had two toothless jaws once more, like an old man with wisps of hair and wrinkled gums.

An old man with a roar of such rage that it made Sunset's whole body shiver, and Soteria dropped from her trembling hands to clatter on the road.

The dragon circled over them, red eyes burning as bright as stars, a yellow light beginning to burn brighter in a throat that was once more clear to view.

It was too high for Sunset to clearly see its weak point now, but Sunset thought the dragon's breath would reach them easily enough.

"Ruby, can you get it?" she asked.

Ruby's response was to eject the magazine from Crescent Rose and then pull one of the individual silver cartridges that she wore at her belt out into her hand.

The cartridge glistened in her pale hand as she raised it to her lips and kissed it.

Then she chambered it, slamming into the open breach and charging it with a snap.

She knelt, her body dropping down as she raised her rifle up towards the sky.

Crescent Rose moved in her hands, waving like a ship tossed upon the waves, this way, then that.

The yellow glow in the dragon's throat burned brightly now.

"Everyone run!" Arslan shouted.

The movements of Crescent Rose became gentler, a rising and facing with Ruby's breath. Breath that Sunset could hear, in and out.

The dragon's breath began to lance down towards them.

Ruby fired.

The muzzle of Crescent Rose blazed with fire, blinding bright. Its loud report was the only sound in the world, all else seeming for a moment to fall silent.

The dragon's breath died before it reached them, the yellow beam fizzling out to nothingness. The dragon itself hung for a moment in the skies above.

Then it began to fall, silently but surely, little drops of ash trailing after its great body as it fell, but not enough, not near enough, to dissolve the corpse before it hit the ground.

Now, the huntsmen and huntresses ran, scattering in all directions to escape the falling dragon and its bulk before it landed with an immense crashing thump.

The ground trembled as the dragon landed, crushing empty dwellings beneath its monstrous form, turning houses to rubble, scarring the wall itself with one wing that raked a gash down the black exterior, dragging guns from their barbettes and dumping them at the foot of the wall.

And so, the dragon lay beside the wall, amidst the ruins of this part of outer Vale, still and silent and slowly dissolving and dead.

The dragon was dead.

The dragon was dead, and they had killed it.

Sunset and the others stared at the slowly decaying corpse, and she wondered if anyone else, like her, was scarcely able to believe it.

Sunset looked at Ruby, stood beside. Praise too effusive, gestures too familiar, would be inappropriate for their circumstances, so Sunset merely said, in a gruff voice. "That was a superb shot. Congratulations, Dragonslayer."

Ruby glanced at her, and was silent for a moment. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Slowly, tentatively, like she was dealing with a skittish animal that might take fright and bolt at any moment, she held out one fist towards Sunset.

Sunset stared at it, unsure — or unbelieving — what was being offered.

Her movements were as tentative as Ruby's own as she clenched her own fist with her dirty, sweat stained glove, and gently bumped her knuckles against Ruby's own.

Author's Note

While the substance of the dragon's demise here is a bit different from its death in the original, a lot of the spirit is, I feel, preserved, in particular the teamwork - albeit in a smaller, tighter group - between the huntsmen from the various different academies come together, and the strategy of Sunset (I think Sunset was the one who had the plan in the original, but I could be wrong about that; in which case I can only plead that since Sunset hasn't had a whole lot to do since the Siren died, she deserved another moment here).

Speaking of getting a moment, the biggest substantive change is Ruby, rather than Penny, striking the killing blow(s). As Mastermind pointed out in their comment, she rather badly needed a win in this battle, and she finally gets one here at the end. At least one of my beta readers would have preferred Ruby to have used her silver eyes to bring down the dragon, but I prefer the gun because it's something that she actually had to work at instead of just being born with the God of Light's very own superweapon for whenever she needs it.

On the Run (New)

On the Run

The flames sputtered, flickered, and ultimately died from the end of Trixie's wand.

"Trixie's out of dust!" Trixie snapped. "Rarity, check my pouches."

If Rarity felt that rummaging through the pouches on Trixie's belt looking for more phials of dust was beneath her dignity, she didn't let it show. Her voice was cool and calm as she said, "Any preferred type of dust, darling?"

"Trixie will take anything at this point," Trixie muttered.

Her hands were full; in her left hand, she still held the Atlesian Colour of the Fourth Battalion, while in her right hand, obviously, she held Abracadabra and was loath to put it down or away, even if it was temporarily useless without dust.

In the meantime, as Rarity bent to her task, the grimm were advancing. They had reached the makeshift barricade of the Fourth already, and they tore at the rough palisade of furniture and other odds and ends, while the Atlesian troops who had manned the barricade had fallen back a little, firing at the heads of the grimm where they could see them, taking advantage of the delay imposed by the barricade without exposing themselves to grimm fangs or claws.

They were still in a line, although it was a rougher line now, almost a clump in places, grouped around the Colours and around Colonel Harper. The Colonel stood on top of an abandoned flatbed truck, firing her pistol from that elevated position.

Her pistol clicked. Trixie wasn't the only one who was running low or out.

Colonel Harper tossed the pistol aside and switched her sword into her right hand.

"It's been an honour," she said softly.

The grimm continued to tear at the Atlesian barricade, to pull it aside, to pull it apart. Any part of the grimm that was visible, head or leg or anything else, instantly became a target, shots ringing out from rifles and from Starlight's Equaliser, but though grimm yelped in pain and ash clouds rose up from behind the barricade, still the grimm kept tearing down the obstacle that stood between them and their prey.

Trixie could feel Rarity's hands rummaging around behind her — until they weren't anymore.

"I'm afraid you're completely out, darling," Rarity said apologetically, as though it were her fault somehow.

Trixie scowled. At times like these, she really wished that she had more control over her magic powers. If they came when she really needed them, then they would come now, for sure, but how to make them come, how to get the best use out of them when they came, she didn't know.

She didn't know, and she wished she did.

Still, no use crying about it. The audience didn't care what your vision was, only what you put on the stage.

"Never mind," Trixie declared as she thrust her thin white wand into her belt. "The Great and Powerful will just have to put on a show without the pyrotechnics. Starlight, lend me your bayonet."

Trixie wasn't entirely sure why Starlight had a bayonet, considering that Equaliser had a perfectly good melee mode, but Trixie was glad that she did now, considering that Trixie didn't have a close quarters weapon.

"Here," Starlight said, firing a blue bolt from Equaliser before reaching behind her back for the bayonet.

It was a sword bayonet that could be held in the hand like a long knife as well as fitted to a rifle.

Considering that Trixie didn't have a rifle, that was all to the good.

The grimm tore through the barricade. In the short term, that made them more vulnerable, as they opened up holes through which they could be seen, aimed at, shot at.

Eventually, though, it would mean they could rush down the street with nothing in their way.

Trixie wrapped her arm around the flagstaff for a moment, letting the colours rest upon her shoulder so that she could use her hand to adjust her hat on her head. It was important that it was at the right angle, the brim overshadowing her brow just so.

Trixie glanced at Sabine, who looked like she was getting ready to use the staff of the colours as a club if the grimm got too close.

And she looked at Rarity, not part of their team, not even a huntress, someone whom Rainbow Dash had told to stick with them because she would be safe with a powerful team like TTSS.

"Rarity—" Trixie began.

"No, I don't think I will, if it's all the same to you," Rarity replied, as the moonlight glistened on her slender blade. It glimmered, too, upon the golden bracelets she wore on both her wrists. "After all, even situations like these — especially situations like these — require a touch of glamour about them, don't you think?"

Trixie didn't argue the point, although she might have said there was enough glamour about this situation even without Rarity.

She looked around her teammates: Starlight, switching Equaliser into polearm mode once again; Sunburst, who had also run out of dust and was ready to use his staff as a club; Maud, not technically part of their team, who had never been a part of their team, but who also in some weird way felt as though she was, or had been, or could have been.

"I love you guys," Trixie said.

Starlight smiled out of one corner of her mouth and winked at her.

Sunburst managed a wan smile of his own.

"You are the veins running through my marble," said Maud, which made no sense to Trixie but sounded really nice all the same.

Doors and furniture dragged from the houses were splintered and shattered, the metal of cars hauled into place was rent with squeals of protest. Grimm faces appeared through gaps in the barricade, teeth bared, daring the diminishing Atlesian fire.

Then the grimm stopped; they seemed to look up, over the heads of the Atlesian troops, and as they stared, a howl of dismay tore from their multitude of throats.

Trixie looked back. She couldn't not look back; she couldn't just ignore whatever it was that was so paining the grimm, that was wounding them or frightening them so badly. She looked back, twisting her shoulders, and her blue eyes were drawn upwards in time to see the dragon plummeting down through the night sky.

It wasn't diving, no, it wasn't swooping down on its prey or breathing out destruction upon those down below. Not diving, not swooping, but falling. Falling on its back, falling without moving, falling as Trixie thought that she could see ashes starting to rise from its body.

The dragon fell, plunged through the air like a falling star, only this was the answer to their wishes, not a granter of them.

The dragon fell out of sight as it dropped behind the buildings somewhere closer to the Red Line.

It fell, and it did not rise again.

It was … dead.

The dragon was dead; somehow, someone had managed to kill it.

The dragon was dead, and the grimm were horrified. They just stood there, letting the Atlesians shoot them, letting themselves get picked off over or through the barricade. They stood there and watched the skies where the dragon had been before it fell down, dead.

Trixie's grasp tightened on the colours. She wasn't sure what to expect next, when the grimm got over their shock as they certainly would, as they were bound to, right? What then? Trixie could imagine them letting out a massive roar of rage and charging with all the more intensity to try and avenge their champion, determined to tear limb from limb anyone who came in reach as punishment for the outrage.

But there was no roar, there was no great anger, there was no vengeance. Instead, there was growling and snuffling and a sort of wordless grumbling muttering as they ducked behind what remained of the Atlesian barricade, using it for cover as they started to slink off into the night.

"Did … did we just win?" Sunburst asked.

"Let's not get overconfident," Colonel Harper said. "But, even if we haven't won, I think it's possible we may have turned things in our favour." Her voice rose. "Reoccupy the barricade! Keep a watchful eye for the return of the grimm. I'll contact General Ironwood, although he may be aware of this already."

"Sir," said Cunningham, "the dragon has dropped off sensors."

Ironwood took a step forwards. "It's what?" How could they lose track of such a massive grimm?

"One moment, it was in the air over the … former Freedom Gate," Cunningham informed him. "The next, it disappeared, sir."

'Disappeared'? A grimm that size couldn't disappear, not on land or sky. A seaborne grimm might slip away into deep water, but on land?

Was it possible that…? Ironwood didn't dare to hope it, not after everything that his forces had thrown at the dragon in vain.

"Get a drone out there, right now," he ordered. "I want visuals."

"Aye aye, sir."

It didn't take long. That was, perhaps, the one advantage of the battle having moved so close, into Vale itself. There were no other advantages, gods knew, but with the fighting now so close, it took no time at all for a drone from Valiant to reach what had been the main gate through the Red Line and into the city of Vale.

Cunningham brought up images from the drone's camera on the main viewscreen, temporarily blotting out the maps of the battlefield and the dispositions of the clashing forces.

Through the cameras, Ironwood could see the remains of the gate itself, destroyed by the dragon, just as he could see, if only from a distance, the detritus of the panicked rush through the broken gate, all those who had been too slow, who had lost their footing, who had been trampled by the frightened herd.

And a little way off, just beyond the gate, he could see the dragon itself, the architect of the gate's destruction, of the breaking of the Green Line, of the retreat to the Red Line. So many of their heaviest losses in this battle came down to this one monster.

And now, this one monster was lying on its back, having crushed a suburban district beneath its bulk. Its head was looking up towards the sky, motionless.

Its whole body was motionless.

Motionless and gently smoking.

Someone on the bridge whooped triumphantly. Nobody chastised them for it, certainly not Ironwood. Had he been a younger man, he might have shared the impulse. It was dead then, it was dead, the dragon was brought low, but how?

It was only as he wondered that that Ironwood noticed the figures standing next to the dead dragon. They were very small, set against the enormous bulk of the dead grimm — that was why he'd initially overlooked them — but they were there nonetheless. Huntsmen and huntresses, he thought; they had found some way to succeed where his ships and weapons had failed.

Oz, he thought, would never let him hear the end of this when he learned of it.

Then Ironwood remembered that Ozpin was dead, that the old man would never chide Ironwood for anything ever again, and that whoever the new Oz turned out to be might not have the temperament or inclination for it.

He would have given a great deal to be teased by Oz over this … this proof the old man had been onto something.

"Cunningham," Ironwood said. "Magnify on those people down there."

"Aye aye, sir."

The image enlarged, showing that the people gathered around the dragon — only a small part of which was now visible — were huntsmen and huntresses. None of them were Atlesian, which was a little — wait, no, there was Winter's sister, Weiss, flying the flag for the north kingdom.

When Jacques found out, he would be publicly cock-a-hoop, whatever his private thoughts on the matter. This was just the PR coup he'd been looking for. His daughter might have only come second in the tournament, but she had just saved Vale — or helped to save Vale, at the very least; if Vale was still standing tomorrow, the dragon’s death would be in no small part to thank for that — and that would probably count for a lot more.

As for the others, he vaguely recognised some, recognised others not at all, and recognised Miss Rose and Miss Shimmer very easily.

Oz would be proud of them. He hoped they knew that, since the old man wasn't around to tell them so any longer, and his successor … his successor might decide they had no need of their services. So he hoped they knew the old man, at least, would have been proud.

"Sir," des Voeux said. "Colonel Harper is on the line."

"Patch me through to all commanders," Ironwood ordered, because as much as the dragon's death was good news in and of itself, what was even more important was how the rest of the grimm were taking it. How would they react to the death of their greatest weapon? Would they press forward, confident that the hard work had been done for them, or would they lose heart as they did when an Apex Alpha fell?

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said. "Patching you through now."

"General," Harper was the first to speak. "The dragon is—"

"Dead," Ironwood finished for her. "You saw it fall?"

"I did sir, though I'm damned if I can say what finished it off, begging the General's pardon."

"I only saw it disappear from our sensors," said Buller. "It's really dead?"

"I'm looking at drone footage of its smoking body now," Ironwood informed him. "It's gone."

"I was worried it was some trick to get our hopes up," muttered Pulleine.

"Given the ups and downs we've had tonight, I can't say I blame you," Ironwood said. "But that's not the case. It's done. And soon, ash and smoke will be all that remains of it."

"Any idea what brought it down, sir?" asked Harper.

"I've no idea how they did it," admitted Ironwood, "but it seems we have the huntsmen of Beacon and Haven to thank — along with young Miss Schnee."

Buller chuckled. "That'll put a smile on old Jacques' face, at least."

"You may unfortunately be right," Ironwood muttered. "What's the situation in front of your forces, what are the grimm doing now?"

"They let out an almighty howl when the dragon fell, sir, and it seemed to knock the stuffing out of them," Harper said. "They're slinking off with their tails between their legs."

"I've observed the same, sir," said Pulleine. "I thought it might be a feint."

"Dunnett is reporting the same, and aerial reconnaissance confirms it," said Buller. "They're retreating, sir."

Ironwood allowed himself the luxury of a smile. It was the news that he had wanted to hear all night: the grimm in retreat and Vale delivered.

Vale delivered and Atlas victorious, if with help and by the skin of their teeth.

The only thing worse than a battle won, it was said, was a battle lost, and Ironwood was glad he hadn't had to find out how true that was tonight.

Yes, there had been losses: Ozpin, Colonel Palmer, the crews of the Gallant, Courageous, Ardent, and Daring, officers and men and probably students too. A butcher's bill that he would only learn the full extent of tomorrow when there was time to call the roll.

So many sons and daughters of Atlas who would never come home, so many jewels that would never gleam again.

And yet, for all that, he would rather they had given their lives for victory than for defeat — or for nothing.

No, he could smile at this, for all that it had been a dearly purchased triumph.

One thing troubled him more than anything else: that if the grimm were retreating, that might mean that Salem's agents at Beacon were finished with their business.

He hoped it meant that they had been comprehensively defeated, but until Dash or Belladonna got in contact, he could not ignore the other possibility.

Still, until one or both of them got in contact, he would have to keep the faith and act on those parts of the battle he could impact more easily.

"Retreat isn't enough," he declared. "All ground units are to stand to their positions in case the grimm rally for a fresh assault. I don't think that's likely, but you should all replenish your ammunition while you have the chance. Tell the troops that they have given excellent account of themselves, that they should be proud, but that this is just a precaution. For the air arm, I'm afraid it's different.

"No rest for the wicked," Harper joked.

Ironwood let that pass without comment. He said, "All combat airships, fighters, bombers, and cruisers are to launch an immediate pursuit, engage at will. Run them down, ladies and gentlemen; I want them broken."

In the days of old, a commander who found themselves in Ironwood's position, with the enemy attempting to retire from the field, would have unleashed his cavalry upon the enemy, to turn the retreat into a rout. Ironwood had no cavalry, but he had airships, which were better, because unlike horses, they didn't get skittish in the dark, and they were less at risk from isolated groups of grimm rounding on them. The air units had so far played defence, in support of the ground forces. Now, he would let them off the leash.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now is our time," Ironwood pronounced. "For the sake of Vale and its security, for the sake of all those we have lost and the vengeance we are owed, harry the grimm and show no mercy. Pile the bodies high before the smoke rises!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" choruses his senior officers, before one by one, they each hung up, each to issue the appropriate orders.

"What do you think they'll make of this in the annals, sir?" asked Fitzjames softly. "A victory to be proud of or one that we just about pulled out the fire?"

"I'm not going to second guess the judgement of history, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "Except to say that, if it doesn't concede that our men and women — and our students too — did very well … then that I would call it very bad history indeed."

"Yes, sir," Fitzjames said.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Des Voeux," he said at last. "Hail Colonel Sky Beak, of the Valish."

Des Voeux hesitated for a moment, before he said, "Aye aye, sir. Hailing him now."

It took Sky Beak almost thirty seconds to reply. Either he was busy, or he didn't want to talk to Ironwood. In his position, he might not have wanted to talk to himself either.

Still, whether he really wished to speak to Ironwood or no, Sky Beak did answer him, though his voice was subdued as he said, "General Ironwood, what news?"

"Good news, Colonel," Ironwood replied. "The battle is won."

"'Won'?" Sky Beak repeated. "Did you say 'won'?"

"I did," Ironwood confirmed. "The dragon is dead, killed by Beacon and Haven students, and the grimm are retreating, pursued by my air units."

There was a moment of silence from Sky Beak before he said, "I see. That is excellent news, General; thank you for informing me." He did not sound thrilled. In fact, he sounded as though he might start sobbing. "I will … I will inform the Council, those that are still able to perform their duties, and … we must begin to count the cost of this dark night. Victory," he said. "It does not feel like victory."

"Vale will survive," Ironwood reminded him. "Isn't that a victory enough?"

"Our defence forces shattered, our fortifications breached, our commander mad … so many people dead. If this is victory, then … defeat would look worse, I suppose is your point."

"Yes, Colonel, it is," Ironwood said. "Mourn the dead, but be thankful the city lives."

"Give thanks," Sky Beak murmured. "Give thanks to who? To you and yours?"

"To any gods you might worship," Ironwood said. "And to the memory of Professor Ozpin, whose students have done him proud tonight and justified all the faith he ever placed in them."

"I see," Sky Beak replied. He paused. "I, and the Council, tried to do what was best for Vale."

"That doesn't matter now, Colonel," Ironwood told him. "What's done is done, and it's only for the historians, armchair and professional, to judge us both. If you think you've made mistakes, then learn from them; if you think you did the right thing, then stand on your record and defend it. If you don't care — which would be wise of you — then ignore the judgments of posterity and give thanks that your city lives — and regret the cost of lives paid for its deliverance."

"Indeed," Sky Beak said. "On behalf of Vale, I thank your soldiers for all their sacrifice."

There was something rather amusing about the fact that Vale, which had come close to war with Atlas earlier tonight, now offered its thanks for all their sacrifice, but Ironwood said, "Thank you, Colonel, on behalf of Atlas and all my soldiers, I appreciate, and gladly accept, the gratitude of Vale."

Colonel Harper leapt down from the back of the truck.

"Soldiers," she cried, "the day is ours!"

Starlight gasped. "Really, ma'am?"

"The grimm are retreating everywhere; Colonel Buller and Major Pulleine confirm it," Colonel Harper said. "They're running."

A broad grin spread across Trixie's face. They had won! Not that she'd ever doubted it, not for a single moment, but still, they had won. They had won! They had stood against more than one grimm horde at once, and they had won.

They had shown them all.

Trixie was still grinning as, with one hand, she raised the standard of the Fourth aloft. "Three cheers for Colonel Harper!" She shouted. "Three cheers for General Ironwood! Three cheers for Atlas, and for all of us! Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!" cried the soldiers, as a forest of fists rose in the air. Starlight cheered too, a beam on her face to rival Trixue's own, and Sunburst, and Rarity. Even Maud's lips moved, even her fists rose, though Trixie couldn't hear her.

She couldn't make out anyone's voice, only the chorus of all their voices.

"Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip!"

"Huzzah!"

"Save your hurrah for yourselves; I have no need of them," Colonel Harper declared. "You have … you have all done well. You have all done so very well." There were tears in her eyes; they didn't flow down her cheeks, but they glistened below her eyes. "Only a little more remains to do. Stand to, just in case the grimm return. I don't think that's likely, and neither does General Ironwood, but be ready just in case." She moved through her soldiers towards Trixie and Sabine, murmuring a few words of congratulations here or there towards this soldier or that, patting them on the back, sharing a joke.

She approached the two huntresses, the two teams. They both came to attention in front of her.

"Lulamoon, Silverband," Colonel Harper said. "Team Tsunami and Team Sabre. You have done the Fourth Squadron a great service tonight."

"It was Team Tsunami's honour, ma'am," said Trixie.

"And you have done what even seasoned Specialists with grey hair and spotless records can't say they've done," Colonel Harper went on. "Faced more than one grimm horde at once, survived the experience, won the battle? As far as I'm concerned, you're not children anymore; you've been baptised in fire, and I'll be astonished if you aren't wearing Atlesian uniforms a lot faster than in two or three years’ time. If that's the case, or whenever you end up putting on the whites, I hope that I and the Fourth have the honour of fighting alongside you again."

She held out her hand towards them — towards Trixie, before any of them, even before Sabine.

Trixie grinned as she took Colonel Harper's hand warmly, feeling the Colonel's fingers close firmly around it.

"It would be our pleasure, ma'am."

As the corpse of the dragon continued its slow decomposition into nothing, Sunset looked around.

Ruby, of course, stood right beside her, then there was Nora, Ren, Arslan, Coco, Umber, Neptune, Gregory, but where was—?

"Weiss?" Sunset called to the only member of their small hunting party that she couldn't see. "Weiss?"

She couldn't have been crushed beneath the falling dragon's bulk, could she? Surely, she had gotten out of there in time?

Surely, their victory could not be so tarnished?

"Weiss?"

"I'm afraid I could use a little assistance," Weiss’ voice answered from somewhere reasonably close by, judging by the sound.

By the sound, but not the sight, for Sunset couldn't see hide nor hair of her. "Where are you?" Sunset asked. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Weiss answered. "But my aura is broken. I managed to get out of the house, but now I'm stuck in the garden, and I … I can't get over the fence."

Umber let out first a snort, then a giggle.

"Whoever I can hear laughing, stop it!" Weiss snapped.

"Or what, little aura-less one?" Umber asked in a merry tone.

"Ignore her, Weiss," Sunset said. "Stick your sword up in the air so we can see where you are."

The tip of Myrtenaster alighted just above the top of one of the wooden fences that enclosed the suburban gardens in this part of Vale. By the looks of it, Weiss had only just escaped a flattening by the dragon's wing, which had crushed the house to which the garden she was in belonged.

Sunset held out one hand, the green glow of magic surrounding it. She fumbled a little for Weiss with her telekinesis — since she couldn't see her, she had to follow the tip of her sword downwards — but without aura, once she had found Weiss, it became easy enough to wrap her magic around, lift her up, out of the garden, and carry her through the air before setting her down in the street with the rest of them.

Weiss brushed herself off. "Thank you," she muttered.

"We should take a picture!" Neptune cried. "All of us, in front of the dragon, while it's still here. So that everyone knows it was us."

"It doesn't matter if people know it was us," Ruby said. "We don't need pictures or anything else. The dragon's dead; that's what matters. Who killed it isn't important."

"It may not be important, in the grand scheme of things," Umber allowed. "But it is our deed, and I for one would not have our valour stolen by an Atlesian pilot or a Valish officer or anyone else. I say take the picture."

"Yeah, we should have proof for our bragging rights," said Arslan.

Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Come on, Ruby!" Nora cried. "Just because the important thing is that the dragon died doesn't mean that we shouldn't be proud we're the ones who did it. We just did something important, right? Something good, for the whole of Vale. Why shouldn't we want people to know that that was us? Why shouldn't we want to be able to look back and say 'yeah, I was a part of that. Pretty cool, huh?'"

Ruby hesitated. "Well, when you put it like that … okay, but let's make it quick, okay?"

"Who's going to take the picture?" asked Arslan.

"I—" Ruby started.

"I'll do it, with my telekinesis," Sunset said, before Ruby could volunteer herself out of the photograph. "Everyone else, get into position; I'll join you in just a second."

As Sunset got out her scroll, everyone else took up places around the bony skull of the dead dragon. If this had been a horror movie, now would have been the time when the dragon would have turned out to be living yet and eaten Umber, but as they were not in a horror story, the dragon remained as dead as a bad party.

Ruby, despite her obvious reluctance, was forced into the centre of the picture by Nora, who stood at her right hand with one hand on Ruby's shoulder and the other on Magnhild. Ren stood on Nora's right, with Neptune not far away.

There was an empty space on Ruby's left, then Arslan stood beside that, with Coco, Umber, and Gregory upon her flank. They posed with their weapons, and victorious smiles blossomed on their faces as they stood, all facing Sunset, with the trophy of their triumph still visible behind them.

Sunset stepped backwards, making sure that she had everyone in frame, in focus, nobody left out or cropped or anything like that. Once she had done so, she held her scroll in the air, fixed motionlessly in place with her telekinesis, as she ran back to join the others, slipping into the empty space between Ruby and Arslan.

She drew Soteria and rested it point-down upon the ground.

Sunset's scroll flashed as she telekinetically took the picture, then floated her scroll over to herself to see the results.

It looked pretty good, if she did say so herself. She'd even managed to avoid red eye.

"Okay," Ruby said, stepping away. "We should go see how everyone else is doing. We don't know the battle’s over yet."

She turned away without another word, forcing the others to follow, or simply not caring whether they did or not.

Sunset did follow, although Weiss with her broken aura did not, and understandably so.

Sunset looked back at her. "Thanks for all your help tonight," she said. "You … thank you."

Weiss nodded. "You're welcome."

Sunset turned away and quickly caught up with Ruby as she headed towards where they had left the Haven and Beacon students.

There was shouting coming from up ahead, not pained shouting, or even angry shouting, but if Sunset was any judge, it sounded like triumphant shouting. Victorious cries.

Perhaps the dragon's death had had far reaching effects across the battlefield?

"What…?" Sunset started to say, then stopped, unsure if she had the right to ask this or no. But she decided that if she didn't have the right to ask it, then Ruby would soon let her know it. "What are you planning to do, once you've left school?"

Ruby glanced at her, and for a moment, she didn't answer. For a moment, Sunset thought she wouldn't answer, before she said, "I'm hoping to take up a job offer I got earlier."

"Ah," Sunset murmured. "Well, I doubt a picture of you having killed a massive grimm will do you any harm."

As she spoke, Sunset played with the buttons on her scroll, sending the photo to the scrolls of everyone concerned.

"I guess not," Ruby admitted.

Sunset put her scroll away. "What … made you decide to do that?"

Again, Ruby took a moment before she answered. "When everyone in a place disagrees with you, that might be a sign you're a bad fit for the place."

That made sense. It was, perhaps, a little surprising that Ruby had come to this view now, but epiphanies could come at any time, as Sunset well knew.

In any case, she did not feel it her place to inquire further into the hows and whys. If Ruby had come to this decision, and if she knew what she wished to do instead as it seemed she did, then Sunset would wish Ruby all the best, and thank her own good fortune in the process.

That was all that she could do now; it wasn't as though she had any claim on Ruby's friendship anymore, to ask her probing questions.

She had been lucky to receive the answers that had been bestowed upon her.

So she said nothing more, as the two of them — and Nora, Ren, and the rest of the group save only Weiss — made their way to where the Haven students waited.

They were not fighting. They were resting, most of them, or looked to be, with some of them sitting down, others leaning against the walls of the houses.

Violet Valeria was one of the few who was on her feet, and she turned to them as they approached. "Hail the dragonslayers!" She cried. "We saw it fall, and the grimm at once lost heart and took to flight. Many of your Beacon students have taken off in pursuit of them, but I thought that folly and held my Haven comrades back. We are too tired, too wounded; there is not a single team that has not lost a member to injury or worse; and it is dark, and we know not this ground. To rush into the night would invite ambushes."

"But the Beacon students left?" Ruby asked.

Violet nodded. "Not all, but many that I saw."

"I'll join them," Ruby declared.

"You say the grimm are in retreat?" Sunset asked.

"So it seems," said Violet.

Was it possible that the battle was over? Was it possible that Vale was finally delivered out of this long, dark night? Was it possible that Councillor Emerald would wake from his surgery and find that, as he had told Bramble, all of this was but the memory of a dream?

And if so, if the battle was done, then … what did that mean for Pyrrha and the others?

"Good luck in the pursuit," Sunset said. "But I must go to Beacon, as fast as I can.

"I must go there, though it may all be over by the time I arrive."

Author's Note

For a character who was plucked from Before the Dawn simply because I needed an antagonist for the last stage of the tournament, Umber has grown and grown on me.

Here ends the battle of Vale; from here on the narrative shifts back to Beacon for the final chapters of this part of the story.

A Murder of Nevermores (New)

A Murder of Nevermores

The gunshots sounded dim to Ciel's ears, and far off.

Farther off than was truly the case, she knew; as she, Penny, Pyrrha, and Jaune moved up the path, getting closer and closer towards Beacon itself, it was not so very far away that Rainbow Dash, Blake, and Sun were fighting off the grimm who sought to swarm up the road in their wake.

It was not so far away at all; the grimm were still proverbially breathing down the necks of those who had not been left behind, who had continued onwards towards the school and the confrontation that waited for them there.

And yet, they sounded far off; it all sounded far off, the gunshots and the answering howls and roars that rose from the throats of the grimm as they sought to pass the Atlesians — and Sun Wukong.

And given his plans, even the itinerant Mister Wukong might deserve to be called something of an Atlesian, at some point.

If he survived this night.

If any of them survived this night.

Ciel wondered that the gunfire should sound so quiet to her, that Undying Loyalty should not boom louder, that the snapping noises of Gambol Shroud should barely reach her ears, that the grimm seemed to roar as softly as a sucking dove, like one who whispers in the nursery door for fear of waking the baby who sleeps within.

She understood that there were sometimes freak weather conditions, cones of air of an unusual pressure, that deadened the sounds beyond said cone so that what happened within could not be heard; during the Great War, generals on both sides had been caught out by such air cones: at the battle of Seven Oaks, the Valish king had not realised that his counterattack had begun on the left flank because he could not hear the guns of General Colton's infantry as they stormed forwards. Perhaps something similar had happened now, a cone of low pressure falling upon Rainbow, Blake, and Sun and all the grimm who sought to overrun them.

Or perhaps the problem was with Ciel's own ears; perhaps they had been deadened by this night of constant fighting, missiles, shells, the cries of hordes of grimm and titanic grimm; perhaps she had been rendered deaf for a time.

Or perhaps only her mind had been rendered deaf, and the gunfire sounded quiet to her not because it was, but because … Ciel could not say precisely why her mind might have chosen to behave so, but she did not discount the possibility.

Because she was … troubled, she would concede to herself, as she made her way up the path with the other three — with the four that remained of the party of seven that had set off.

With the other three behind, facing the grimm who swarmed up the path with teeth and claws.

Ciel kept her inner turmoil off her face — so she hoped, at least, and so she believed also — but it weighed upon her nonetheless. It weighed upon her just as Distant Thunder weighed in her hands.

It troubled her in part because there were only four of them left now, against someone, while they might not have seemed a very ferocious opponent, had at the same time not seemed at all like a traitor and an enemy either. It could well be that Amber's appearance of harmlessness was as false as her appearance of benevolence. She was, after all, the Fall Maiden, possessed of magic which it had been of great importance to keep out of the hands of Cinder and Salem's servants — partly for the access the powers provided to the Relic, true, but also for the powers themselves, was it not? The fact that Amber had shown no sign of great danger or great power meant nothing, considering that she had shown no sign of treachery either.

And there were only four of them, where there had been seven. Four of them, and shorn of two of the best fighters amongst them. Ciel thought that Jaune would not take it as an insult, and thought that Penny would not either, to say that she would rather than Blake and Rainbow Dash here with them instead.

They might rather wish either Blake or Rainbow with them than to have Ciel, and Ciel would not be affronted if they did; she knew her uses and her limitations.

Perhaps she ought to have remained behind instead, but Rainbow had given the order — it was reckoned an admirable trait in a leader to never ask anything of one's subordinates that one was not willing to give of oneself, but Ciel thought they might be seeing the limits of how admirable it truly was — and orders were to be obeyed, especially in circumstances where there was little time to discuss the matter.

Rainbow had given the order, and Blake … Blake Belladonna had a great deal of heart; she did not appear to be led about by the heart as Sun was, but in her own way, she was every bit as susceptible to it. Her great heart could not suffer to leave Rainbow Dash behind to face the claws alone.

It left the rest of them at a disadvantage, and yet, Ciel could not judge her for it; to leave a comrade to her death was not the Atlesian way, to save the life of a citizen was one of the few acceptable reasons to break ranks, and sacrificial rearguard actions were simply bad tactics, wasteful and likely to be ineffective.

It was more than just fear for the two of them — and Sun — that troubled Ciel, it was the thought that the wrong choice had been made.

Had they needed to remain behind?

Alternatively, could they have proceeded with the grimm pursuing them, snapping at their heels?

Had there been an alternative to Rainbow's decision, one that Ciel should have seen quickly, even if Rainbow had not?

It was not the Atlesian way; their lives were too precious to be spent to purchase mere seconds, or even minutes.

But they were a long way from Atlas.

And Atlas is far, and honour's a word.

The Atlesian way would have been to use the skies to stay ahead of the grimm, but they were in this position because that strategy had failed them.

Could they have stayed ahead of the grimm, or reached the Vault, with so many grimm in hot pursuit? That was the only question that mattered.

And the answer was that, although perhaps they could have, it would not have been the optimal manner in which to confront Amber, caught between the pack ice of the Fall Maiden and the freezing waters of the grimm behind.

In which case, as much as Ciel might not like it, perhaps Rainbow Dash had made the right decision.

As much as Ciel might not like it, the only thing she could do now was pray for them.

And wonder why the sounds of their battle sounded so far off, so much farther off than was the case, as the four of them that remained continued up the path towards the school.

Lady of the North, stand with Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna this night, who are champions of thy land though they know thee not.

They had almost reached Beacon now, getting closer and closer to the school and all the problems that the school presented — not least amongst which was the dragon, that great grimm which had preceded them to Beacon and which now circled around the Emerald Tower.

Until it unleashed its breath, that killing breath that had torn the defences of Atlas, that had so badly wounded Neon, that yellow beam lanced out of the dragon's mouth and struck the tower.

The green lights that burned in the darkness were extinguished immediately. The tower itself disappeared where it was struck in an almighty explosion, stone and metal debris tossed in all directions, while the tower above the blast began to crumble as it fell, what had been a sturdy pillar crumbling in seconds as it crashed down to the ground below.

They were fortunate that no debris was flung so far as to trouble the four of them. That appeared to be the full extent of their good fortune.

Pyrrha gasped. Ciel could understand her shock — at least in part. With the tower down — not down, destroyed; to say it was merely down made it sound like a maintenance glitch — then the entire CCT network would be offline. Communications within Atlas, Mistral, even Vacuo might be restored, but communications within Vale would not, and between kingdoms? Would they ever be able to speak from Atlas to the outside world again, without the use of messengers toiling laboriously through the skies?

And while Ciel had no doubt that communications within Atlas would be swiftly restored, at this moment, it would be impossible even for Atlas to speak to Mantle, never mind to Mistral or to them here.

The world had not gone dark, but it had been silenced.

Ciel did not know to what extent Pyrrha had grasped these facts, but she thought that even without such calculations, it must be more difficult for a Beacon student: to see your own tower, of your own school, laid waste like this.

To see a grimm squatting on the ruined stump as though it meant to make its nest there, as the dragon was doing at that very moment.

"If…" Jaune murmured. "If the tower's down, then—"

"Then the network's down," Penny said. "We can't reach … anyone."

"No," Pyrrha said softly. "But I fear that is tomorrow's problem. Tonight's problem is—"

"The huge grimm sitting on top of the tower?" Jaune guessed.

Pyrrha bowed her head a little. "Precisely. How are we to reach the Vault without attracting its notice? Even if we had time to fight it, which we don't, we have no way of … of knowing how to fight it. Even if we could be sure of killing it swiftly, it might not be swift enough for our errand, and we cannot be so sure of killing it swiftly. We must put our hope in stealth, and yet…"

She trailed off, and hardly needed to say that they were not a stealthy group, none of them trained in such, none of them dressed for such, and who knew how vigilant the dragon's eyes might be, how keen its senses, how anxiously it would scan the ground beneath it?

Had it been sent by Salem to keep watch over Beacon, and prevent any intruders interfering with Amber's mission, or had it been drawn here by the dark impulses of its kind?

Had it, perhaps, been drawn here by the Amity Colosseum that still hung in the sky above Beacon, above skies that had been rendered safe until not long ago? As Ciel looked up and watched as the damaged Resolution began to manoeuvre, not to engage the dragon as Ciel first thought, but to try and shunt the Amity Arena away from Beacon; she felt very glad that none of her family had travelled to Vale for the tournament.

But Twilight was up there still, and the rest of Rainbow's friends, and many others besides; if the dragon were to turn its attention on the Colosseum, then the carnage would be terrible indeed.

Lady prevent it.

The dragon roared. It raised its head up to the broken moon and roared so loudly that it must have carried all across the kingdom; in towns and cities to the north and south, they must have heard the raw and known, even without the CCT, even if all the news of this night so far had passed them by, that something was terribly amiss in Vale.

The dragon roared, and at first, Ciel thought that it was merely crowing in triumph, celebrating its own deed in the destruction of the tower, but then, the grimm began to rise out of the Emerald Forest and fly towards Beacon, coming over the cliffs and into the skies over the school, and Ciel realised that it had not been celebrating but summoning, summoning more grimm to join it.

The number of grimm that answered the call were not so many, nothing compared to the numbers that had flocked around Amity during the beginning of the battle or had engaged in battle with the Atlesian airships over the Green Line. There were perhaps a score, perhaps a little more than that — the darkness made it difficult to get an accurate count — mostly nevermores, with a small number of griffons and a single teryx, but that was enough, when combined with the dragon itself and the fact that, as Pyrrha had pointed out, they were in need of haste.

And neither haste nor surprise seemed conducive with fighting their way through so many grimm, even if one removed the grimm they could not even be sure of slaying.

God and the Lady chose that particular moment to smile upon Ciel, for as she thought that there was a gleam of light, faint like a distant star in the night sky, which nevertheless drew Ciel's eyes and attention towards it.

The dragon must have noticed it also, for as that light whipped across the night sky, out of Ciel's sight, the dragon followed, beating its enormous wings as it took off, leaving Beacon and the Amity Colosseum behind as it flew over Vale.

That was one difficulty solved, although Ciel wished that whatever had drawn it away had done so sooner, because though the dragon was gone, it had left the other grimm, the fliers it had called out of the Emerald Forest, behind, like a garrison left to hold the ground while the main force continued to advance.

Holding the ground indeed, because the flying grimm dropped out of the sky to land on the school grounds. That could make them easier to evade, or it could make it harder to avoid them, depending on whereabouts they landed.

Once again, they were confronted with the prospect of trying to sneak their way past their adversaries. And yet, they pressed on regardless. What could they do in the circumstances but press on, and hope that the same good fortune which had rid them of the dragon might come to their aid a second time?

There was no sign of them being so blessed as they drew closer and closer and inexorably closer to the grounds of Beacon. The nevermores showed no sign of being drawn off by any power or ally. As the four of them drew near, crouching down and hoping to blend into the shadows as though Pyrrha's gilded greaves and cuisses, the circlet on her brow would not stand out to a grimm's night vision, they continued to stalk about the grounds — and the ground. Only a few were visible from where they were, but there were more; they had seen them dropping out of the sky. They were out there somewhere, waiting.

Fight or skulk, those were their choices: fight their way through the grimm, or else try to avoid them.

Neither was a particularly appetising choice: skulking or sneaking offered a somewhat unlikely chance of success, while fighting would impose delays that they could not afford, not to mention the risk of death or injury before a battle on which much would hang in the balance.

There was a third option, the option already taken by Rainbow Dash and Blake, of someone leaving the group to draw off the grimm and clear the way for others, but that had the same problem of fighting in that it would leave the rest of the group denuded once again, weakened in numbers and in capability, before the great confrontation on which so much hung. Could they afford it?

Faced with the other unappealing choices in front of them, could they afford not to?

Ciel felt as though she had sat down to dine only to open up the menu and find that the choices were a soup to which she was allergic, a fish she did not like, and a supposed meat that was all fat and no real substance to it at all.

And she could not get up from the table, however unlikely that was in the context of a real restaurant.

She had to order. They had to order, unless one of the others had seen a better way forward that Ciel had not yet seen.

If they had, they were presently keeping it to themselves, although somewhat understandably so, for the presence of the grimm dissuaded talking. Beacon was ahead, and even closer was the restaurant just beyond the grounds called Benni Havens'. Ciel had never been there herself — the menu had never seemed to her taste, and the allure of a stuffed beowolf had been lost on her — but she was familiar enough with the concept of the place; she had seen it.

There was no sign of ruin about it; no grimm had broken through the ceiling or smashed through the walls; having survived the initial battle of Beacon, when the grimm had concentrated their efforts to the north of here, now it similarly found itself just out of the way of their smaller-scale efforts. If any grimm had come down here, then it would have made a decent vantage point to watch for anyone heading up the road towards the school, as they were doing. But it seemed the grimm felt they could accomplish as much by occupying the grounds and watching the point at which the road entered Beacon proper.

Perhaps it would have been different had the restaurant been occupied, but it did not appear to be so, though Ciel knew that it had been at an earlier point during the battle, that the owner had seen Amber fleeing the grounds with her cohort. Now, however, the place was dark, lights off, no sound, no signs of life.

No sign of life or death, only of abandonment.

Nevertheless, or perhaps because of it, Pyrrha led them in that direction without a word, her ponytail flying out behind her as she ran across the road and up the path towards the diner, trusting the others to follow. Perhaps she feared to speak into the night with the grimm close by, even in hushed whispers. The others followed in spite of her silence, first Jaune, then Penny, and finally Ciel herself bringing up the rear; they all dashed as swiftly as they could — Ciel's skirt bounced and flapped around her knees — across the road and up the gravel path towards the silent, unlit restaurant.

The door was unlocked; or perhaps Pyrrha was able to open it with her semblance, Ciel was not close enough to say for sure, but she could say that Pyrrha opened the door swiftly and stepped through; Ciel could hear the sound of a bell ringing as the door opened, but none of the grimm seemed to hear it, or to pay it any mind if they heard.

Ciel had to fold up Distant Thunder to get inside; it was too big to fit easily through the door, and Ciel did not want to risk awkwardly manoeuvring it in ahead of herself. Instead, she slung it across her back before she stepped through the door and closed it softly behind her.

There were only windows on one side of the establishment, that being the same side on which the door stood; a little moonlight came in that way, but the solid wall on the other side of the restaurant offered no view of Beacon or the grimm who had returned to it.

The lights were off, and the moonlight gave a little light, but not too much; Ciel had her visor on over one eye, which enabled her to see, albeit at the cost of having to close her other eye as though she had gotten something in it.

Still, she could see, albeit in faded, washed out colours; could Pyrrha and Jaune see as well? Penny's eyes gleamed with a bright green glow that was almost eerie as a side effect of her own nightvision.

Ciel sidestepped around the stuffed fake beowolf guarding the door and glanced briefly at the wall that was presently obstructing their view of the school. The wall was covered in photographs, she saw, pictures of teams of huntsmen and huntresses.

She could not help but wonder how many of them were still alive, even amongst the most recent photographs.

Pyrrha turned to face the others. "I thought that we could speak in here a little more easily," she said, though she kept her voice quiet nonetheless. "Without so much risk of being overhead. We need to decide on our next step, how we are going to … what we are going to do about those grimm that remain on the grounds."

"Considering what we know," Jaune said, in a voice as quiet as Pyrrha's, or perhaps even softer, "I think we've got to assume that there will be other grimm out there than just nevermores and the other fliers. The dragon will have … dripped, leaked, whatever, it will have left some of them on the ground, beowolves or boarbatusks or whatever."

"Young," Ciel murmured. "Unarmoured, inexperienced."

"They can still get in our way," Jaune pointed out.

"True, but if they were all we had to fear, I should not fear them," Ciel replied. "Save for the delay that they might cause us."

"We cannot afford to be delayed," Pyrrha whispered.

Are we not delaying now? Ciel thought, but it was an uncharitable thought, and in any case, a rather unsound one. A little time to consider and prepare might, strictly, be a delay to their forward progress, but it would pay dividends compared to what might result from rash, thoughtless action.

"If Amber and her allies have reached the Vault and taken the Relic away, then we are already too late," Ciel said. "But if not, if they have not yet done so, then does it matter if we are so delayed that we cannot prevent them? So long as we are in a position to intercept them leaving the Vault, with the Relic, before they can deliver it to Salem, then we may call our mission complete."

"You may be right," Pyrrha conceded. "But if we wait until the Relic is removed from the Vault, without the Fall Maiden, I fear it could not be put back in the Vault again."

"Perhaps not, but there are other places it could be secured," Ciel pointed out. "If it cannot be returned to its original resting place, that is hardly the end of the world." She winced. "Forgive me; that was a poor choice of words."

"It's fine," Pyrrha said. "So what do you suggest? Fight our way through the grimm? I fear that if we did so, we might not be in a position to intercept Amber when she emerged from the Vault."

"That's probably why they're here," Jaune muttered. "Why the dragon was here too, before … what do you think drew it away?"

"Something we do not have time to speculate on," said Ciel.

"Right," Jaune accepted. "Right, sorry."

"We can't kill all of the grimm quickly enough, can we?" Penny asked.

There was a moment of silence in the dark restaurant as they stood there amidst the empty chairs and empty tables.

"We fear not, Penny; that is the root of it," Ciel admitted.

Penny nodded. "Then we'll do what we did before, to get to the tower and Professor Ozpin: I'll draw the grimm away, towards the cliffs, and then the rest of you—"

"No," Ciel said.

Penny looked at her, eyes bright in the darkness. "What?"

"I said no, you will not," Ciel declared. "I will. I will engage the grimm and draw their attention onto myself, so that the three of you can move onwards towards the Vault undetected."

"Ciel," Penny murmured. "No, I can—"

"In the first place, Penny, Distant Thunder is a little unsuited to the tight quarters that you may — will — encounter down in the Vault of the Fall Maiden; I will be better employed above ground where I can endeavour to put distance between myself and my targets," Ciel told her. "In the second place, your power may — probably even will — be needed down in the Vault. In the third place, I daresay the three of you will make a better team than I with these two. And in the fourth place…" In the fourth place, I would take your place in this danger, out of affection for you but also … but also because Neon did the same for me, and as strange, absurd, nonsensical as it may seem, it feels as though by throwing my own body into the breach, I can … atone? Repay? Prove myself her equal in courage?

Blake so loves Rainbow Dash that she stood beside her in the face of fearful odds, unasked, though all else suffered for it. My own dear friend so loved me that she sacrificed her body for my sake and fights for her life aboard the medical frigate.

I will be ashamed before them all if I prove less than they.

"In the fourth place, I must do this," Ciel said. "I will brook no despite."

"There must be another way," said Penny, whose idea it had been in the first place. "I meant for me to do this."

Ciel smiled slightly. "A leader who asks nothing that she is not willing to give or do is a fine, admirable thing," she said. "But a leader who does and gives all things and makes all efforts is a poor leader. Pyrrha and Jaune will have more need of you."

She glanced at them, to see if either of them would have any objections to make. She was not anticipating any, from either of them; they would know that there was no alternative simply by the fact that they had failed to come up with any alternative.

Pyrrha's eyes were not so bright as Penny's, but nevertheless, she locked eyes with Ciel. "You are very brave," she said quietly. "Good fortune accompany you."

"Keep fortune for yourself," Ciel advised her. "If the Lady is with me, I will have no need of it."

She turned away, or began to turn away, only to be halted by a hand upon her wrist. Penny's hand.

"Be careful," Penny urged, leaning forwards, her face very close. "If you're not there when Neon wakes up … I'm sure she'll be very sad. And your brothers too; you've got all them to think about. Don't … be careful, for all their sakes."

Ciel was silent a moment. Does she think that I go forth to throw my life away?

Not a wholly unreasonable assumption, in the circumstances.

"I … will do my best, if the Lady will have it so," Ciel replied, speaking softly for more reasons than merely the grimm outside. "If not…" If not, then I trust they will know that I died in the service of Atlas, and that will have to stand as my epitaph. No time for last words, after all, even if there was someone here I could trust to carry them. "Goodbye, Penny; I may see you later."

Penny let go of Ciel's hand and clasped her hands together, over her chest — or over her heart.

She said nothing else, and nor did Ciel. Even had there been anything else to say, there would have been no time to say it in. Instead, Ciel looked once more to Pyrrha. "Wait a brief while after you hear the shooting begin, to give me time to lead the grimm away; I will try and draw them towards the far cliffs, facing the Emerald Forest."

Pyrrha nodded.

Ciel turned her back on all the rest of them and opened the door to the diner — the bell tinkled once again to announce her exit; she could only hope that the grimm would pay as little attention to it as they had the last time — and stepped out into the night once more.

Blessed be the Lady, who watches over me always.

Ciel unslung Distant Thunder from across her back, the long rifle unfolding in her hands.

Revered be the Lady, whose rod and staff shall comfort me.

Ciel began to stalk forwards, towards Beacon and the waiting grimm who stalked the school.

Beloved be the Lady, whose mantle shall shelter me all my days.

For God shall not know me save through the Lady, shall not note me save by the Lady’s intercession, and shall never aid me but by the Lady’s intercessions.

Ciel looked down at the rifle in her hands. An excellent weapon for ranged combat, but perhaps a little less so — as she had said to Penny — for close quarters work. She had no desire to replace Distant Thunder — it had done nothing to deserve it — but perhaps she ought to consider a secondary, support weapon for when the range closed. Not a pea shooter like Rainbow Dash or Blake carried, or even like her own pistol; something with real stopping power.

A submachine gun that fired .577 rounds, perhaps. She would speak to Twilight about it tomorrow — if she could.

Ciel stood now upon the very threshold of Beacon Academy. One more step would bring her into the school. The grimm were waiting there, having taken by stealth that which they had already failed to take by battle.

Lady of the North, watch over all your children far from home.

Ciel took a step forward, and as she stepped forward, she brought Distant Thunder up to her shoulder, aiming at the nearest nevermore that walked in its ungainly fashion across the grounds.

It was not one of the largest specimens of their kind, not a giant, but by no means small either. It was taller than Ciel was, and even with the wings excluded, it was wider than she was in the shoulders too, but it did not look big enough to swallow her whole in a single mouthful like some nevermores.

That would not be the case for every grimm here, but Ciel was not averse to starting small, as it were.

The nevermore had had its head down, like a bird in truth looking for worms amongst the grass. It looked up at her, clacking its bone beak.

BANG!

Distant Thunder roared, there was a bright flash from the muzzle, and the nevermore's head vanished, leaving only a smoking black trunk with a red neck.

Even as the body toppled to the ground, Ciel could hear the other nevermores — and griffons, and the teryx — crying out in … in confusion? In alarm? Or in eagerness at prey having wandered into her embrace? In all those things? They were crying out, no matter the exact mood in which they cried, they were filling the night air with their caws and squawks and with the growls and howls of beowolves, just as Jaune had predicted.

Ciel began to move; not too quickly, not yet — the grimm would be heading towards the sound of the gunshot, and she did not want them to miss her and stumble upon Penny and the others — but moving nonetheless, away from the path into school and towards the cliffs that overlooked the Emerald Forest. She worked the bolt of her rifle, discharging the spent cartridge and chambering another.

Another nevermore, larger than the first, lumbered out of the darkness, not taking to wing but walking on its hind claws and on the little foreclaws that came out of its wings. It saw her, and shrieked as it headed in her direction.

Ciel raised the rifle to her shoulder, put her eye to the sights, and fired.

BANG!

Distant Thunder spoke once more, the shot striking the nevermore on one side of the head, just as Ciel had intended that it should; the nevermore's skull cracked, fault lines rippling down towards the beak and disrupting the red patterns on the white bone; the grimm's eye disappeared and left a shallow socket behind.

For a moment, Ciel thought that she had not killed the nevermore, that she had wounded it, blinded it in one eye, but had not killed it. The nevermore cried out, spreading its wings on either side as it lunged towards her — only to topple face forwards onto the ground, dead, its body gently smoking.

But the air was filled with the shrieking of more nevermores, the cries of other grimm, and looking up, Ciel could see that some of them had taken to wing, blotting out the stars as they circled above.

Ciel ejected the spent cartridge, chambering another round as she kept moving, moving away from the restaurant, away from Penny, Pyrrha, and Jaune, away from the three who remained.

There had been seven; now, there were but three.

But three who would have an uninterrupted passage to the Vault if Ciel played her part.

She quickened her step, not quite to a run but getting there, moving at a slightly more than gentle jog, and as she moved, she activated her semblance.

Precognition On!

Her Future Echo would burn through her aura from this point, but she did not intend to get into close combat with the grimm if she could possibly avoid it.

And her semblance would help with that, as when it gave her warning of the griffon that bounded out of the darkness towards her, mouth open and claws outstretched. Distant Thunder spoke once more so loudly as Ciel shot it in the chest and threw herself out of the griffon's path as, its momentum unhalted, it would have bodily slammed into her otherwise.

Ciel rolled onto her knees, turning to face the griffon as it landed and turned to face her.

The griffon, this grimm did look large enough to swallow her whole if it could get close enough, howled at her.

Ciel was up and on her feet, walking briskly backwards as she ejected the spent cartridge and fired again, hitting the griffon square on the chest a second time and bringing the creature down.

She looked up and saw the future echo of a giant nevermore swooping down upon her from the skies. Ciel raised Distant Thunder and fired the last round in her magazine, but though that made the grimm break off its attack, it did not kill it.

Now, Ciel ran, trusting that there were sufficient grimm up in the sky who could see her that they would direct the rest of the pack in her direction. She ran, and as she ran, she ejected the spent mag and pulled another one — this was her second to last one — into place, working the bolt with one hand to chamber another round.

She ran towards the cliffs, hearing the shrieking and the crying of the grimm behind her. She looked left and right, searching for threats that might emerge out of the night in either direction, seeing none. She looked forwards once again and saw before it happened the nevermore cutting her off.

It was running, wings tucked into its sides, head down compared to the rest of its body; the red pattern on its skull made it seem almost as though it had three eyes instead of two.

Ciel shot it at the run, because if she did not keep moving, then it defeated the entire object of this, and because she feared that if she did not run, then the grimm would descend on her from on high, and she did not want to be caught stationary in the midst of a murder of nevermores like a white hart caught by the hounds.

So Ciel fired, hitting the nevermore on its flank; the grimm shuddered but did not fall — it did not even falter — it turned its bone beak her way and lunged for her. Ciel saw the lunge coming, knew where the beak would snap shut, and so she rolled beneath the giant nevermore's bite and passed underneath its black feathers and out the other side.

The nevermore screeched in annoyance, opening its wings for a moment, unleashing a storm of black feathers in her direction. Ciel saw those coming too, enough to dodge some, to retreat out of the way of others, but there were so many feathers, and for all the predictive powers of her semblance, it could not make her as agile as Pyrrha, as swift as Ruby. Ciel was struck by a pair of feathers and knocked backwards, her aura flaring with pain.

The nevermore crowed triumphant as it closed its wings.

Ciel raised Distant Thunder and shot it a second time, the round leaving cracks upon the nevermore's skull as it ricocheted off the bone. The grimm took a step back but did not fall. It did not even lose an eye.

Ciel scrambled to her feet and ran backwards, praying that she did not fall as she worked the bolt, ejected the spent cartridge, took aim over the nevermore's head.

The grimm took flight, spreading its wings out on either side as it rose into the air.

BANG!

Distant Thunder bellowed to the heavens, Ciel's shot catching the nevermore in its throat, just behind the beak, behind the protection of the bone, passing upwards and tearing through the back of the nevermore's skull.

Three shots. Three shots to kill it.

We could not have fought them; it would have taken too long.

Taken too long and been too hazardous.

Ciel ran, ran from Benni Havens', ran towards the cliffs.

Ciel ran, and the grimm followed.

Author's Note

Even if you haven't read the original, this chapter probably gives you some idea of where this is going in terms of structure for.

This... with the removal of her Mountain Glenn battle with Emerald this might be Ciel's first entire chapter to herself, with her as the focus. I think it is, actually. Or... no, I think she was the POV for a couple of Mantle chapters, wasn't she? Either way, Ciel focused chapters are few and far between, so it was appropriate that she would get one last one here as a phase of the story draws to a close.

And Then There Were (New)

And Then There Were

The door closed behind Ciel, and Benni Havens' was plunged into silence.

As they stood there, in the quiet, in the dark, waiting for Ciel to lead the grimm away from them, Penny wished — she really, really wished — that she had kept her mouth shut.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It had worked when they needed to get to the tower and bring Ruby to Professor Ozpin and tell him about Amber. The thought of Professor Ozpin added to Penny's discomfort; she hadn't known him very well, but she knew that Sunset had a very high regard for him, and Penny had hoped to get to know him better. Now, she never would. That wasn't much of a reason to be sad, she knew, but the professor was dead, and people that she knew and liked or cared about — not only Sunset, but General Ironwood too — were bound to be very sad when they found out that Professor Ozpin was dead, and that, in itself, was sad.

Anyway, the plan had worked that time. Jaune's plan, to have Pyrrha distract the grimm so that he and Penny could sprint across the square and get to the tower with Ruby without having to fight their way through all the grimm. So why wouldn't it work this time too? She hadn't been about to ask Pyrrha to do it again, because Pyrrha had already done it once, because it wasn't so important that whoever was doing the distracting be faster than the people who the distraction was for, and because Pyrrha was the one they really needed to be in the lead to confront Amber — especially since Blake and Rainbow Dash weren't here. If they had been, then maybe Pyrrha could have been the distraction even though she'd done that already, but they weren't, so she couldn't.

Without Rainbow or Blake, they just didn't have anyone else who could go on the front line the way that Pyrrha could. Penny was better a little bit behind, since Floating Array was supposed to keep her enemies at a distance, and Jaune was more use with his semblance than his sword and shield, even after he started using dust.

And Ciel was a sniper, she was supposed to be at the back; that was her whole thing.

No, they couldn't do without Pyrrha in this fight, but with Jaune backing her up and Ciel shooting from a distance, they could do without Penny if they had to, while she could use Floating Array to fend off the grimm even if they got all around her.

She hoped so, anyway.

That had been her plan. That had been in Penny's mind when she had suggested that she would do what Pyrrha had done earlier that night and lure the grimm away so that Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ciel could sneak past and reach the Vault without having to fight.

Because otherwise, they would all have to fight their way through the grimm, and they might still be fighting the grimm when Amber and her new friends came out of the Vault. That was what Pyrrha was afraid of, why she hadn't liked the idea of waiting for Amber to come out when Ciel suggested it.

That had been Penny's idea, and she thought that it had been a pretty good idea too; Sunset probably would have hated it, and maybe it wasn't a really good idea, but it didn't seem like they had time to think of really good ideas, so they'd have to make do with a good idea at the time.

And then Ciel had stolen her spot.

What made it worse for Penny was that she couldn't really argue with anything Ciel said, but that didn't stop her good idea from seeming like a bad idea, one that she wished she'd kept to herself, so that Ciel hadn't just walked out there to face all those grimm by herself.

First Rainbow Dash, and Blake, and Sun. Now Ciel.

Did it have to be this way? Was there another way, a better way, and I just wasn't smart enough to see it?

It was all very well for Ciel to say that a leader shouldn't do everything themselves, but Rainbow had done that at the bottom of the road, so why shouldn't Penny now?

Mind you, Ciel didn't always seem to think that Rainbow Dash was a very good leader.

Penny wished, she really wished, that Ciel hadn't gone.

She wished that Ciel had let her go instead.

That way she wouldn't feel guilty for it having been her idea that put Ciel in harm's way like that, whereas now…

Now if anything happened to her, it would feel like Penny's fault. Penny's fault from Penny's idea.

But she hadn't kept her mouth shut; she'd spoken up and told everyone her idea, and now, it was too late. The door had shut.

She felt Jaune's hand on her shoulder. "Worried, right?"

Penny looked at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Kinda," Jaune replied, almost smiling at her.

"And…" Penny began, but then stopped, because she didn't want Jaune or especially Pyrrha to think of her as some kind of coward or anything like that. But at the same time, she kind of wanted to say it, wanted to tell them, even though they might think all kinds of bad things about her. She wanted to say it. She wanted to get it outside, but at the same time, she didn't. Did that make any sense at all? She wasn't sure if it did.

Emotions were weird sometimes.

She wasn't just worried for Ciel, although she was. She wasn't just worried for Pyrrha and Jaune, although she was. She was … she was worried for herself too. She was … scared, a little.

There had been seven of them, and now, there were only three of them, and they were going up against a Maiden. Or sort of a Maiden, anyway; she had some of the magic. She had as much of the magic as Cinder had, and while they'd beaten Cinder last night, they'd had Ruby with them then, and Cinder had been all on her own, letting them gang up on her, while Amber had friends down there with her too, as well as magic.

She had more friends down there than they would have, now that they'd left Rainbow, Blake, and Sun behind, and now that Ciel had gone.

And they'd already killed Professor Ozpin, who … Penny had never seen him fight, but he was supposed to be really good. He'd been a really good huntsman when he was younger, that was what people said; he'd led that battle that had saved Vale, and you didn't get made headmaster for nothing, after all.

But they'd killed him, Amber and the others. And now, Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha had to go down there and fight her and her friends.

Fight Amber and Dove. That didn't bother Penny as much as it probably bothered Pyrrha, and might bother Jaune; Penny hadn't been as close to Amber or Dove as they were; she was … if you imagined a star system, one that you could see from far away through a telescope, like the one in the observatory in Canterlot — astronomy telescopes had to be in backwater places like Canterlot because there was too much light pollution in Atlas or Mantle — with a star in the centre, or twin stars even, binary stars, that was what they were called, wasn't it? Imagine a star system with binary stars called Sunset and Pyrrha. And then imagine planets orbiting those stars called Jaune and Penny … and Amber. That was what they had been to one another, nothing special, just planets orbiting the same star, both part of the same circle around the same centre, but not really anything more than that. Penny didn't dislike, hadn't disliked — no, didn't dislike — Penny still couldn't really say that she didn't like Amber, even after everything she'd done because … because it was all just so weird, all just so sudden; Penny hadn't really had a chance to stop and think about Amber, and she still didn't now; they weren't going to be here that long.

Mostly, what she felt about Amber now was nervousness about her power — and her friends. Tempest Shadow was supposed to be pretty good; she was nothing on Pyrrha, obviously, but Pyrrha might be a little busy with Amber, which meant…

Cinder had been strong, but they'd taken her down together. Amber was as strong, at least when it came to magic, and they wouldn't be able to take her down together because it almost seemed like Amber and her friends might be taking them down together if they weren't careful.

So, yeah, Penny was kind of nervous. She didn't want to admit it, though, because Jaune had been nervous on the way to fight the Apex Alpha, and Ren had made fun of him for it.

Mind you, if Jaune had been nervous then, then maybe he'd understand now, and Pyrrha … Penny didn't think that Pyrrha would make fun of anyone.

"I'm a little nervous," she admitted.

"And you think that makes you unique?" Pyrrha said, without any unkindness in her voice.

Penny glanced at her. "You too?"

Pyrrha nodded.

"I think," Jaune began. "I think it's okay to be … a little afraid. What matters is what you do in spite of being afraid."

"I hope you're right," Penny murmured. She paused for a second. "Did … leaving Rainbow and Blake and Sun behind, letting Ciel go … could we have done this better? Is there something else we could have done so that they didn't have to—?"

"If we knew that, I daresay we would have done it," Pyrrha replied. "But I certainly wouldn't say that this is the best road we could have taken. I wouldn't be so arrogant."

"But I can't think of what else, not after the airship went down," Jaune said. "We were where we were, and we've just had to—"

He was interrupted by the sound of Distant Thunder from outside, its deep, booming noise unmistakable, at least to Penny.

"She's started," Penny murmured.

Please be alright, Ciel.

Be alright, or else a lot of people will be really upset.

Do you even realise how many?

"She said to wait," Penny added, in case either of them was thinking about heading straight for the door. "We need to give Ciel time to draw the grimm away."

She looked around Benni Havens'. She looked at the fake beowolf by the door, the ursa's head on the wall above the fireplace on the other side of the restaurant; she looked at the photographs next to the beowolf. She looked all around the dark and quiet and empty restaurant.

"Things are going to be different, now that the CCT is down, aren't they?" Penny asked.

"I … haven't really had a chance to think about it," Jaune admitted.

"Beacon will be different, if nothing else," Pyrrha added. "And the rest of Remnant…" She trailed off.

Distant Thunder boomed out again, and Penny thought it sounded a little further away now than it had been.

"We should go," she said as she started towards the door. She stopped and looked at the others over her shoulder. "If there are more grimm in our way that didn't go after Ciel," she said, "and we have to fight them, don't use your rifle, Pyrrha. My lasers are pretty quiet, but Miló's rifle mode is a bit loud, and the grimm might hear. If we have to shoot anything, I'll do it."

Pyrrha nodded. "Understood, Penny."

Penny walked out the door, out of the restaurant and into the darkness in Ciel's footsteps. Jaune and Pyrrha followed behind her. Penny had the best night vision of the three who were left, and she looked around, unable to see any grimm close by. The grimm that she could see, up in the sky, were heading towards the cliffs, just where Ciel had planned to lead them.

Good luck, Ciel. I mean … the Lady's … Lady's Favour? Lady's love? Lady's protection? Lady's Grace, that's it; the Lady's Grace go with you.

And God too, if that's okay.

"Pyrrha, you go first," Penny whispered, although Pyrrha probably would have taken the lead anyway, because she had already, when they were coming up the road, and she'd even led them into Benni Havens' so they could talk for a second and come up with a plan.

But then, Penny had been the first one out the door, so maybe it didn't do any harm to let her know that she wasn't going to keep doing that.

Anyway, Pyrrha nodded silently and took the lead, her red sash fluttering a little bit at her waist, brushing against her leg, as she brushed past Penny and started the last short distance towards the school.

Penny glanced up at the broken tower, the dark tower with no lights shining, and thought for a second that she could see something moving up there, on the stump, amongst the broken fragments of stone.

"Penny?" Jaune murmured.

Penny looked down and saw that Pyrrha had stopped and was looking back at her.

She looked again up at the broken tower, but she couldn't see anything; it must have just been the shadows, or the fact that she was a little nervous was making her jumpy. There was nothing up there; Ciel had led them all away.

Penny could still hear Distant Thunder roaring, the sound getting fainter as Ciel got further away, but still sounding loud enough to let Penny know — to let them all know — that Ciel was still there, still fighting.

They couldn't waste what she'd given them.

"It's nothing," Penny said softly. "Let's go."

Despite saying that, she hung back a little bit, letting Jaune slip in between her and Pyrrha; that was probably a better place for him than at the back, where he couldn't boost Pyrrha with his semblance if she needed it, and couldn't do as much with his dust either, if he had any. Penny could stay at the back. The swords of Floating Array hovered around her head and chest in a circle, moving with her like the little fighters flying escort around a big cruiser. Sort of; if she were the cruiser, then she'd have her own … never mind.

They crossed into the boundaries of the school. It was so quiet; not silent, because Penny could hear Ciel blazing away with Distant Thunder, and she could hear the grimm shrieking and howling as they attacked Ciel — please take care, Ciel — the same way that she could just about hear Rainbow Dash and Blake — not Sun, but she didn't think he had many shots in his staff, so he'd probably used them up by now — fighting the grimm down the road, what seemed like a long way away, even though it wasn't.

She wished they were here. But then, if they were here, then the grimm would be here too, wouldn't they?

It was all very difficult. It didn't feel like things were going great, but at the same time, like Pyrrha said, it was hard to think of what else they could have done.

Not crashed their airship, maybe. But then, it wasn't as though Rainbow had meant for that to happen.

They were where they were, in Beacon, just about, where it was quiet, with only the sound of Ciel's Distant Thunder and all the grimm trying to kill her.

Penny had almost preferred it when there was a big grimm attack trying to take the whole school, because then, there had been a lot of noise to show that people were alive in here and fighting back.

Now, even though the grimm weren't right here right now — thanks to Ciel leading them away — it still felt as though they'd taken Beacon. People had abandoned it, everyone had left — to fight on the Green Line, or to go into Vale and fight there instead — or they'd been killed, like Professor Ozpin. The grimm had destroyed the tower, the grimm had landed in the grounds, and there had been nobody to stop them.

There was no one to stop them; even they, now that they'd come back, weren't here to stop them or take back the school but just to sneak through it so they could deal with another problem.

But someone will take it back, won't they? Tomorrow, or when this is all over, someone will take the school back from the grimm: Professor Goodwitch, all the students, General Ironwood's forces.

If they can.

They were so lucky that the dragon had gone, but what if it came back? What if it didn't come back because it preferred to stay in Vale? Who could stop it? What if … what if Beacon wasn't the only thing that was lost tonight?

Then … then everyone will have to come to Atlas and live there instead. She wasn't exactly sure if there was room, but they would find room, somewhere, in Atlas or in Mantle. It occurred to Penny that some people might prefer to go home to Mistral instead, and there might be room there too. But Atlas was a better academy than Haven, so all the Beacon students would probably be better off there.

It would be kind of funny, after everything.

Maybe not so funny for everyone who'd just lost their home.

Maybe it won't turn out that way. Maybe it'll all work out, maybe someone will find a way to kill the dragon and save the day.

Whatever happens, it'll all be much worse if Amber takes the Relic away and gives it to Salem.

Penny realised that part of the reason she was thinking like this was because everything was so quiet, no life, no sound, and she couldn't talk to the others because they didn't want to alert anyone who might still be around to their presence. She was stuck in her own head, and it wasn't fun.

She wondered if it was any more fun for Jaune or Pyrrha to be stuck in their own heads, with their thoughts rattling around in them. She didn't dare make enough noise to ask.

Up in front, Pyrrha had stopped; now, it was her turn to look at the tower, as though she wasn't sure whether she wanted to get closer to it or to avoid it.

She headed away from it, moving quickly, loping across the grounds, heading towards the Valish side of the grounds, towards the … well, towards the Vault, obviously. Which was past the docking pads, further down, so away from the tower, really.

Plus, Penny wouldn't be surprised if Pyrrha just didn't want to get too close to the tower, considering that it was broken and destroyed and … Penny didn't want to get too close to it either. It didn't seem like a good place anymore.

The tower had always been there, since she'd been at Beacon, and it had been there before that too, but Penny hadn't been there to see it, so … anyway; the tower had always been there, and the lights had always been on; it had always been looking down on them.

But now … now, the tower was still there, just in a different way. A very different way. The broken tower was there, and it was still watching them, or at least Penny felt like was still watching them.

It didn't feel like the good kind of watching.

But it didn't feel as though they could get away from it just by keeping their distance.

But they kept on going, following Pyrrha towards the dorm rooms, towards the building where they had spent most of their time, where they had found Ruby earlier tonight. Once they got there, it would be straight on, through the square, towards the Vault.

Towards Amber.

It was a little weird; if Amber wasn't there waiting for them, that would be bad.

If Amber was there, that would be dangerous.

Penny really wished that they weren't alone out here. She really wished that … that Sunset was here. Sunset would have known what to say to make her feel better, like she had at Mountain Glenn.

Penny couldn't think of anything to say to herself or anyone else, and even if she had thought of it, she wouldn't have had the courage to say it.

She kept quiet and tried to remind herself of what Jaune had said, that it was okay to be nervous, it only mattered what you did with your nervousness.

Think about it too much.

Pyrrha had stopped again, and this time, it was easy to work out why: there was a growling sound from up ahead; Penny could hear it as well as Pyrrha could. All her floating swords pointed in that direction, the blades folding up so that she could fire the lasers, as she waited to see what was making the sound.

It turned out to be just one beowolf, a young beowolf, that must have come from the dragon's goo or whatever, a beowolf that was all black except for its head, and kept its body kind of hunched over as it slunk towards them, growling from between its teeth.

Pyrrha struck before Penny could fire, throwing Miló — it was in its spear mode — and nailing the beowolf square in the chest. The grimm was thrown backwards, down onto the ground with Pyrrha's spear going straight through it, in one side and out the other, and then it dissolved, and there was just Pyrrha's spear, buried in the grass.

Pyrrha dashed forward, and Jaune and Penny ran as well; Pyrrha yanked Miló quickly out of the ground and back into her hand, but she didn't slow down, as though now that she knew that not every single grimm had gone chasing after Ciel, she felt the need to pick up the pace.

Penny got it, or guessed she got it; she couldn't exactly ask Pyrrha to be sure that she got it, but she was pretty sure that was why Pyrrha had sped up. Or maybe she thought that they'd just wasted too much time being cautious and wanted to reach the Vault before Amber got away with the Relic.

Penny looked around. It should be okay. Even if there were a couple of grimm here, Ciel had gotten rid of most of them, and if they were all immature like that young beowolf that they could kill them quietly and then—

Again, Penny saw something on top of the tower, a dark shadow among the ruins.

More than a shadow.

"Get down!" Penny cried, breaking the silence that had prevailed since they entered Beacon, shouting as the giant nevermore swooped down on them from the ruined tower, spreading its dark wings across the sky.

Pyrrha didn't fire; like they'd talked about, she kept Miló in spear mode in case the sound of her rifle alerted any other grimm. Penny fired though, her lasers making only soft hisses as she fired green beam after green beam towards the flying grimm as it flew down towards them. She hit it, she hit it more than once, her green lasers slamming into its feathery chest, but the grimm must have been too big or too old because it didn't really seem to feel it very much.

It didn't die; it didn't even shriek in pain, although it did stop flying straight towards them and fly over them instead, over the top of them, blocking out the stars. Unleashing a storm of feathers down on them from above.

Pyrrha danced gracefully across the grass — Penny wished that she could have had more time to admire how elegant and nimble she was — as the nevermore feathers slammed into the grass all around her without ever hitting her.

Jaune raised his shield over his head and covered himself with it, dropping to his knees. The feathers thudded down all around him, and some of them slammed straight into his shield with a sound like heavy rain on a metal roof. And some of them hit Jaune; Penny heard him wince in pain.

Some of them hit Penny too; she didn't have a shield cover herself with it, and she wasn't quick enough on her feet like Pyrrha to be able to dodge the feathers; she tried to use Floating Array to parry them and bat them away, and she got some of them like that, but they were just too fast, and there were too many of them, and Penny felt some of them slam into her, knocking her back, slicing into her aura.

The nevermore was silent as it came around for another pass.

Why doesn't it make a noise and let the other grimm know? Penny wondered. Does it want us all to itself?

Penny jumped to her feet, and fired again at the nevermore, hitting it again and again with her green bolts, but again, it didn't seem to cause the grimm much harm, because this time, it didn't even turn away; it just kept right on coming.

Penny thought that it was coming for Jaune, and Pyrrha must have thought so as well because she threw herself between Jaune and the approaching nevermore, with Miló drawn back to thrust or — no, to throw it; she was holding it overarm, she was going to throw it, probably.

But at the last moment, as Penny's lasers hit the grimm again and again, the nevermore changed course, beating its wings so that the air hummed and the air currents washed over them as it flew not for Jaune but for Penny herself.

The nevermore moved too quickly for Penny to get away; by the time she realised that it wasn't Jaune in the nevermore's sights but her, it had grasped her in its black claws and lifted her off the ground, soaring rapidly through the air back towards the broken tower from which it had come.

"Penny!" Pyrrha shrieked, sounding as much like a pained bird as any nevermore did, the name running out of her mouth in spite of the need for quiet that they'd observed so far. Pyrrha raised her shield hand, stretching it out towards Penny, and for a second, Penny thought that Pyrrha was just reaching out hopelessly for her, but no, she could feel Pyrrha's semblance grabbing her as firmly as the nevermore's claws had, pulling on her, wrenching her back towards Pyrrha and Jaune.

Penny felt a prickly, uncomfortable sensation in her chest, a tightening, a stabbing pain that paid no attention to her aura. The nevermore slowed in the air, but it kept on beating its wings, beating them faster and faster and all the more furiously as it looked backwards at Penny, or at Pyrrha, with glowing red eyes that seemed angry.

Penny could hardly move, even to move Floating Array, because she felt … she'd told Pyrrha that having Polarity used on her was uncomfortable; Pyrrha must have thought that it was worth it in order to get Penny back and out of the nevermore's claws, and that was nice of her to try, she guessed, and maybe Penny would have agreed with her if the nevermore had let go easily. But the nevermore wasn't letting go; it was tightening its grip on Penny's arms and shoulders as it fought against Pyrrha, its sheer strength pitted against Pyrrha's semblance, and caught in between the two was Penny like a rag doll, feeling her limbs stretched, feeling her chest tighten. This did not feel good at all.

She wanted it to stop.

Freedom kicked in, half intentionally, half driven by instinct, by Penny's dislike for the pain that was spreading throughout her body. Polarity slipped away from her, sliding off her like … like something sliding off a slippery thing, unable to get a hold on Penny when she didn't want it to.

Sorry, Pyrrha, but you were really hurting me. Please don't be too mad.

Unfortunately, Freedom could only free her from the tight hold of Pyrrha's semblance; it couldn't set her free from the claws of the nevermore as it carried her up and up, through the sky, towards the broken tower that got closer and closer.

But without Polarity's hold on her, without Pyrrha's desperate attempts to pull her back, Penny was — after catching her breath a little bit — able to do something about that herself. She felt better now, felt more in control of herself.

Felt able to get a grip on Floating Array as the swords hung limply down from her back.

The laser beams hadn't worked too well, so Penny used the swords, the blades unfolding and stabbing upwards over and over again, stabbing it in its breast, on its wings, its neck, everywhere that Penny's swords could reach, as far as the wires would stretch. She thought about trying to wrap the wires themselves around the nevermore's neck and try to strangle it, but if that didn't work, then she could end up stuck, trapped by her own wires around the grimm, and she didn't want that at all, so she just kept stabbing and stabbing and hoping that would be enough.

It was enough to get the nevermore to drop her, and Penny felt herself falling, falling through the sky, turning over and around to see that she was dropping down onto the ruins of the Emerald Tower.

She twisted and turned as best she could so that she landed on her back instead of her face. She landed with a slamming thud and a feeling like some of her insides were starting to rattle around as her aura sent shockwaves through her body; it was not a good feeling. She landed in the middle of a ruin; it looked like this might have been a computer room, but the dragon's breath hadn't just burned away the walls and destroyed the tower; it had charred the floor mostly black and destroyed most of the tables and chairs and the computers so that there wasn't much here beyond jagged bits of wall, ash on the floor and a few bits of rubble, either from what had been here before or what had fallen down here when the tower was destroyed.

Bits of stone and metal had fallen so heavily on the floor that it was buckling in places, sagging down; there were even some holes around her that Penny could see.

Or maybe that was the dragon's claws when it had made its nest here, or maybe even the claws of this nevermore, the one that now perched on the edge of the jagged remains of the wall and looked down at her.

Penny couldn't decide if it looked angry or hungry. Neither made her feel great.

The nevermore stayed quiet; it didn't shriek at her, it didn't cry out, it just clacked its bony beak together as it pushed its head towards her.

Penny slashed at it with Floating Array, her swords glancing off the red-striped bone of the nevermore's skull, cutting at the flesh of its neck. The nevermore drew back, but only for a second; it thrust its head forward again, mouth opening and closing as though it wanted to swallow Penny whole.

Penny scrambled backwards, ash on her fingertips — and probably other parts too — as she smudged it across the floor. She kept on slashing at the nevermore, but that still didn't seem to be killing it, and it wouldn't even hold it off forever.

Penny looked around, looking for something to— the holes in the floor!

Penny kept some of her swords focussed on the nevermore, jabbing at it, prodding it, trying to keep it away from her. The nevermore clacked its beak as it started to circle, stalking around the broken wall at the edge of the tower.

With her other swords — or with her other lasers as Penny folded those blades up in half to reveal the carbines inside — she fired at the floor, around where dragon or nevermore had already dug into the floor so deeply that they'd cut through it. Now, Penny's lasers burned through it too, burned through it like a circle, or a ring, like in cartoons.

Unlike in cartoons, Penny wasn't standing the middle of the ring that she was making with her shots; she had to get up and run, trying to fend off the nevermore with her swords while she did so, and jump, landing in the middle of the damage that the grimm and her lasers had done and hoping it was enough.

It was enough; the floor gave way beneath her, and Penny fell through the gap to land flat on her face on the floor beneath, smashing a desk and a computer beneath her.

She rolled, ignoring the way that her aura felt — bad — as she formed Floating Array into a tight grouping in front of her, aimed at the hole she'd just made.

The nevermore's head appeared there, and it descended down, trying to force its way through the gap and into Penny's floor.

The tips of Penny's lasers began to glow as she charged up her heavy laser.

The nevermore clicked its beak and retreated, out of the hole and out of sight.

Penny had no target to aim at. She held the charge, ready, waiting for when she did. She could hear the nevermore up above, just, but she didn't really know where it was. She just knew that it was up there, waiting.

I'm sorry, Pyrrha. I'm not sure I'll be able to get back.

Jaune sheathed Crocea Mors in his shield in a single fluid motion, freeing up his right hand to catch Pyrrha by the elbow as she started in pursuit of the nevermore that had taken Penny.

"Pyrrha, wait!" he cried, unable to be quiet despite the circumstances because quiet, he feared, would not get through to Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, you can't."

Pyrrha rounded on him. Her eyes were wide, emerald islands surrounded by expansive and expanding seas of white, corners of her mouth turned downwards, lips twisted in discomfort. She looked how Jaune felt: like this was turning into more of a nightmare by the moment, a nightmare that had them in its grip and was tightening its claws around them.

There had been seven of them in the airship. Now, they were the last two left, the last two who were not facing … uncertain fates, to put it mildly. Rainbow, Blake, Sun; then Ciel; now Penny.

Pyrrha stared at him as though she hardly recognised him. "We can't just leave her," she whispered.

"I … I think that's exactly what we have to do," Jaune said, his own voice dropping. He felt sick to his stomach to say it, but at the same time, he felt like he had no choice but to say it, as much as he hated it — and hated himself for it. He couldn't see his own expression, but he could feel the way that his brows were twisting above his eyes, feel the way his mouth was drooping on either side; he knew that he didn't look happy about this, just as he didn't feel happy about this. But just because he didn't like it, just because he hated it, didn't mean that he wasn't right about this, even though he didn't really want to be. "How long will it take to save Penny, or even help her?" Jaune asked. "How long will it take to get to her? And what could Amber do in that time, while we're not there, while we're not even looking that way?"

Pyrrha kept on staring at him. She didn't look at him as though he was a stranger to her anymore, or at least, that was how Jaune took the change in her eyes, which were still wide but … not as much so, maybe, it was … maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

No, definitely not that. If he'd been seeing what he wanted to see, he definitely wouldn't have seen Pyrrha looking like this. She looked a lot of things, but nothing like he wanted to see.

She still looked unhappy, uneasy … frightened. No, nervous, call it nervous; it sounded better.

She still looked all the things he felt.

Jaune didn't feel better for the sharing.

Pyrrha was supposed to be the one who knew what she was doing, after all: the tournament champion — even more so now — the hero of Mistral, the sword of their team. That she looked like she shared his feelings about this was a sign … a sign of nothing good, but also a sign that his own feelings were not based on nothing.

Pyrrha didn't exactly argue his point; instead, she said, "And so we … but she could—"

"I know," Jaune admitted. "I know, but Amber could get the Relic. Can we just let that happen?"

Pyrrha's mouth opened and closed, or kind of it; it had started open, and it never really closed, but it opened up from where it was then closed again. "You are cold," she whispered.

Jaune flinched, even as he said, "I know. I don't like it, but … maybe someone has to be."

He thought he saw the faintest beginnings of tears welling up at the bottom of Pyrrha's green eyes. "I think I prefer the little world of the arena to this wide world," she said softly. "Though it is only a little world, a play world some would say, it is also a simple world to live in. No shadows, no deception, no good nor evil, no right nor wrong; no weighty choices that test the heart and shatter it."

Jaune didn't say anything. He didn't really understand about the arena — how could he? He'd never been a tournament fighter — but he understood wishing that things were simple. Who could argue against that? Who wouldn't wish for such a thing?

Who would want to be in their position right now?

Pyrrha shook her head, just once, back and forth. "Very well, though the gods condemn, let us go. We must go." She glanced down at the golden band on her arm, and then at the tower to which the nevermore had carried Penny in its claws. "Tyche Agathe, Penny; I hope that we will meet again, though you hate me when we do."

She said not another word to Jaune — that was fine with him; he could understand if she didn't want to say anything to him right now — and began to run once again, wielding Miló in sword form as she cut aside the nevermore feathers that lay all around them, cutting a path for herself and for him to follow her.

There were no other grimm, no other nevermores dropped off the tower — or at least, he didn't see any other grimm, though without Penny or Blake to see in the dark, they might have been there, waiting patiently. If they were, they were very patient, not making a sound or making a move, and it was more likely that they just weren't there at all, that Ciel had done her work well, and that the one nevermore that had scooped Penny up and away had been one outlier that had decided not to join the hunt for whatever reason.

It had been a pretty big nevermore, really big; maybe it was so big and so old that it guessed that something might happen, that Ciel was just a diversion for something else.

If it had been that smart, it looked like it had been the only one, because there weren't any other grimm coming down on them or out of the darkness as they covered the rest of the ground to the dorm buildings.

They ran around it, around the scarred brick of the dormitories and reached the courtyard, where they found Ozpin.

Pyrrha gasped when she saw him and staggered to a stop. Jaune stopped too, and not just because Pyrrha had.

The headmaster was lying in the shadow of the plinth of the statue, the statue that had been wrecked during the first fight for Beacon earlier that night. Only the plinth was still there, and a few bits of stone that had been the feet and ankles of the huntsman and huntress. Ozpin lay beneath the plinth, eyes closed, his body unmarked.

What there was was a rag stuffed in his mouth. They'd suffocated him and then left the thing that they'd suffocated him with. They could have taken it out. Just because they'd killed him didn't mean that they had to treat him like that.

If they'd taken it out, he might have looked like he was sleeping, like he'd lain down for a nap and never woken up. With the rag left in, shoved in his mouth, stuffed down his throat, it looked … it looked like he'd been murdered, obviously, but it looked like they'd humiliated him too.

It looked as if they'd left him that way so that he wouldn't look impressive when people found him.

That was probably the reason why Pyrrha knelt down and pulled the rag out of his mouth, holding it with as little contact from her fingertips as she could manage before she threw it away.

Jaune hadn't liked Ozpin much, after what he'd asked of Pyrrha, what he'd try to do to her, but then, Pyrrha hadn't liked Ozpin much either after that, but that didn't mean that it wasn't shock to see him like that, dead, and dead like that. It didn't mean that it wasn't a shock to see him treated that way.

Whatever his faults — and he'd had some pretty big faults as far as Jaune was concerned — he'd still been … still been their headmaster, still been the leader of the fight with Salem.

If they could kill him, then…

"We should cover his body," Pyrrha murmured.

"With what?" Jaune asked.

"I … don't know," Pyrrha admitted.

"We have to keep moving," Jaune reminded her.

"I know," Pyrrha said, sounding like she was almost sobbing the word, her whole body wracked. She took a step away from Ozpin's body and around the statue.

Then she stopped, turning back to him.

"We are too few," she said. "Too few to be sure of success; when there were seven of us, then, it was different, but … but another group, now that the dragon is gone, another group might have more luck flying here. I will go on ahead, but you need to call for help first. Call General— no, he'll be busy; first, call Professor Goodwitch, then General Ironwood if you can—"

"I don't think I have his number," Jaune said quietly.

"Then Ruby, Sunset, anyone!" Pyrrha cried. "Someone has to get here in case … in case we fail but there is still a second chance to stop Amber."

"In the meantime… you're going to go alone?" Jaune asked, not quite believing it.

Pyrrha shook her head. "You'll be right behind me."

"Not right behind you," Jaune pointed out.

"Have we any other choice?" asked Pyrrha. "Putting the hopes of all entirely on ourselves, we two? Or me idling here while you call for help. You said yourself, we have no time."

Jaune's mouth tightened. "You—"

"I'm not sending you away," Pyrrha told him. "I'm not asking you to leave me behind, to run from Beacon, to not fight; I want you to join me as quickly as you can because I … I do not want to do this alone, with all my heart I do not, but … do you really think we can do this alone? Are you certain of it, not hopeful, but certain, certain enough to hazard all upon it?"

Jaune didn't answer, and in his silence, he answered loud and clear.

He hated this. He hated what she was suggesting. But it made at least as much sense as leaving Penny behind and was a lot less … brutal. She was only asking him to hang back for a second. Compared to what he'd asked of both of them, that was nothing at all.

And it was hard — impossible, really — for him not to agree that someone else coming up here might have better luck.

"Okay," he said. "Okay." He took a step towards her. He wanted to reach out to her; he wanted to kiss her; he wanted to take her in an embrace and hold her tight, their chests pressed together as his arms wound around her. But there wasn't time. They wasted too much already; they had none left for a goodbye.

And this … this wasn't goodbye. This was just… "I will be right behind you," he vowed. "Just…" He forced a smile, whatever it actually looked like on his face, "Just don't win until I get there, okay?"

Pyrrha managed a little kind of smile in return. "I will try and restrain myself," she said. For a moment, he thought that she was going to say something else, that she wanted to say something else, but then she turned away from him, without another word in the end, and set off, away from the courtyard and towards the Vault.

Away from the courtyard and away from him.

Away from him and towards the danger.

Towards Amber, and Dove, their friends who had betrayed them.

He couldn't think about that right now, couldn't stand here dwelling on what had been said and done and what it meant and how he felt and all the rest of the stuff that he could go over with Professor Goodwitch when they restarted their therapy sessions tomorrow. Right now, he had a job to do: call around for help, make all the calls as quick as he could, then get after Pyrrha.

It's a good thing she told me where the vault was after Amber showed it to her that night, he thought as he folded up his shield into his sheath configuration — Crocea Mors was already sheathed in it, where he had thrust it to grab Pyrrha's elbow after Penny was taken — and fastened it upon his belt.

His hands trembled a little as he pulled out his scroll, and he was so torn between eagerness and nervousness that he dropped it, sending the device bouncing a couple of steps across the ground to rest beside Ozpin's body.

He picked the scroll back up again — and stepped away from Ozpin, because being that close to the dead man was … eeh — and tried to control his hands as they kept on shaking.

He opened the device up, flicking quickly — trying to flick quickly, but trying to be quick made him slower at times; he missed the screen with his finger once, and then another time, he pressed too hard and accidentally started up a mobile game; a get a grip, come on! — through to his contacts.

As he'd told Pyrrha, he didn't have General Ironwood's number, but he did have Professor Goodwitch's.

He'd put FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY next to her name in block capitals, but if this wasn't an emergency, then what was?

He tapped the green button with his thumb, maybe a little harder than he needed to.

He looked away as the scroll attempted to reach Professor Goodwitch, looking for Pyrrha; he could still see her, although she was getting further away from him, sprinting across the grounds towards the Vault. She was getting further away, but he could still see her, he could see the moonlight glinting off her armour.

He looked back down at his still-silent scroll, where it hadn't yet made a connection to Professor Goodwitch.

"Come on, come on," Jaune muttered. Yes, the CCT was down, but with the relay towers in Vale, he should be able to reach the professor in Vale, right?

Right?

He hoped so, anyway.

The scroll was trying to connect. Whether it was because of the tower being down that it was taking longer than usual or because Professor Goodwitch was too busy to answer, he didn't know, but it felt as though it was taking longer. And yes, sure, he was impatient, he wanted her to answer already, but it wasn't just impatience that was making this take a while; it was actually taking a while.

Perhaps he should hang up and try again? Or hang up and call Sunset or Ruby? But then he'd lose all the progress he'd already made, if he was actually making any progress, that was. Did he want to start from the beginning again, with Professor Goodwitch or anyone else, having waited this long already?

Perhaps I should say that I tried, couldn't reach anyone, and go after Pyrrha.

That was what a part of him wanted to do, but he couldn't do it. For one thing, they might be glad of the backup.

But if Professor Goodwitch didn't answer soon, then…

If she didn't answer soon…

Jaune's finger edged towards the red icon that would hang up the call. It inched, or half-inched or fraction of an inched, closer and closer to the icon without ever quite reaching it. Jaune couldn't stop hesitating. The longer he waited, the more he felt like it was hopeless, but at the same time, the more he waited, the more it also seemed like he'd sunk so much time into waiting that he couldn't just give up now. After all, in spite of the poor signal message in the top left of the screen, his scroll hadn't actually told him that it couldn't reach Professor Goodwitch at all; low signal wasn't the same as no signal — he must be in range of at least one of the relay towers — and taking a while to connect wasn't the same as unable to connect.

But if it took much longer, then he … would probably still do nothing and wait, rooted to the spot, desperate for it to work already.

It worked! Professor Goodwitch's voice emerged out of the scroll crackling and distorted, but audible, just about.

"Mister Arc?" she asked. "Is something—? Where are you?"

"Professor, you need to get to Beacon right away," Jaune said, the words running out of his mouth so fast that he was practically babbling them, joining them all together with no spaces. "Bring help if you can, but you need to get up here and tell General Ironwood!"

"Mister Arc, calm down," Professor Goodwitch replied. "You're hard enough to make out as it is on this line with— did you say—?"

Jaune winced. "Did I say what, Professor, you're breaking up!"

"Where are you, Mister Arc?"

"I'm at Beacon!" Jaune shouted, not caring if anything heard him so long as Professor Goodwitch did. "You have to get up here before Amber steals the Relic!"

"Amber?" Professor Goodwitch repeated, her voice crackling.

Right, I guess no one must have told her about that. "There's no time to explain," Jaune said. "But P—"

Something landed on his back heavily enough to knock him to the ground. Jaune let out an 'oof,' breath expelled out of him as he landed on his front, his head cracking against the courtyard stone hard enough to make his aura flare up and pass enough of the pain on to make him cry out. His scroll slipped from his hands — again — and skidded across the courtyard.

"Mister Arc?" Professor Goodwitch asked through the static. "Mister Arc, are you—?"

A white bone claw stepped on the scroll hard enough to shatter the screen. The device flickered, and then died.

The griffon to whom the claw belonged looked down on him in every sense.

It chirruped in anticipation.

Jaune tried to get up and draw his sword, but where some might have managed that in a single swift and graceful motion, he was slower and more heavy-footed, and was still trying to get up off the ground when the griffon went for him. It didn't bite him; instead, it closed its beak around the hood of his hoodie and picked him up like a rat in the mouth of a dog, shaking him furiously from side to side so that the world blurred around Jaune before throwing him away.

The courtyard spun, and the moon circled for a second above him before Jaune crashed through the wall of the dormitory, shattering bricks and breaking wood and tearing wires as he was thrown hard enough to not only go through the outer wall but through one of the ground floor common rooms and make a hole in the plaster of the far wall of the room as well.

The griffon stalked inside through the hole it had just made, though it had to squeeze and wriggle a bit, being broader shouldered than Jaune was.

He should have attacked it then, but he was too busy prying himself free from the wall and staggering out, and by the time he was ready, the griffon was in.

Still, tight quarters, it couldn't fly away; that should give him an advantage, right?

It wouldn't be a disadvantage for him, anyway.

Jaune drew his sword and drew it back for a high stroke; with his other hand, he folded his shield and gripped it tight, held before him to cover his chest and the lower half of his face.

The griffon stalked around the edge of the common room, kicking a green sofa out of the way with an imperious shove of one leg. It kept both eyes on him, its head turned in his direction. It was a little bigger than he was, but its head bobbed up and down a bit as it walked, so that sometimes, the difference didn't seem as big.

Jaune also found himself circling, picking his way around the edges of the room, avoiding the sofas and chairs, keeping the griffon in sight. He glanced at his own sword; there was fire dust stored in the pommel; he would have preferred ice or lightning, and ideally ice, but it wasn't as though he couldn't change it now. He should have done it if he wanted to.

Did he even have any ice or lightning dust left?

Unfortunately for him, even the fire dust that was there was looking … kind of used up; there wasn't a lot left.

He heard a soft growling as another grimm entered the room: a young beowolf, with no armour. Its eyes gleamed in the gloom, with the lights off in the common room.

The griffon squawked at it; the beowolf shrank down and slunk to the edge of the room.

Jaune kept his attention fixed on the griffon; he could take the beowolf, no doubt; a single stroke would kill it. The griffon was what he was really worried about.

The griffon reached out with one of its foreclaws, digging them into a chair that sat in front of it. It hauled the chair up and threw it through the air at Jaune's head.

Jaune raised his shield — covering his eyes for a second, and then used it to batter the chair away before it hit him, only to see the griffon bounding across the room in its wake, claws outstretched.

Jaune's shield was out of place, but he tried to sidestep, sliding out of the path of the grimm's onward rush and bringing his sword down into the griffon's shoulder. Crocea Mors bit into the griffon's black flesh, making it squawk with pain as it rounded on him, lunging out with its bone beak to him square on the chestplate. Jaune staggered backwards, stumbling into another sofa and falling onto it as though he was going to collapse and watch some TV after a hard day's work.

The griffon reared and descended on him with flashing claws. Jaune raised his shield up just in time; the griffon's claws skittered off the white surface, then gripped at the edges, trying to pull it down or away from him. Jaune thrust upwards with his sword, jabbing for the griffon's face. His blade skittered off the bone when he caught a glancing blow, but then Jaune thrust again, firing a blast of the fire dust still in the pommel.

The griffon darted backwards, twisting its body sideways, smashing through a coffee table in the centre of the room. It snarled at him, clicking its beak together, swishing its tail from side to side.

Jaune got to his feet, kicking backwards with his left foot to push the sofa back a little bit so as to give him more room.

He waited. As much as he wanted to finish this quickly, he'd be no good to Pyrrha at all if he got himself killed by rushing in.

The griffon took a couple of steps forward, and then a couple of steps back. It, too, seemed to be waiting.

Jaune breathed in and out heavily. As much as he didn't want to be rash, at the same time, he didn't have all night either.

If the grimm wouldn't do something, he would have to.

The griffon charged, presenting its front to him again as it lunged forward. It didn't try and slam all the way into him; instead, it stopped a short distance away and began to jab at him, reaching out with its claws, thrusting its head forward to snap its beak, trying to find a way through his defences. With its claws, it went for his belly, beneath his chestplate, with its beak for his face, it was trying to make it so that he couldn't defend everywhere with his shield; whatever he blocked would leave somewhere else vulnerable.

Unless he went on the attack himself, keeping his shield low to defend his belly while slashing with his sword against the griffon's neck.

The griffon took the blows on its head, shifting from left to right so that Crocea Mors scraped off the painted bone each time; it didn't seem to be breaking the bone, but the griffon was retreating, stepping back as Jaune pursued with slashing strokes that were bound to—

He felt the beowolf's jaws close around his leg. Jaune winced as he felt his aura ebb, then squawked in alarm as the young beowolf pulled him off balance.

The griffon charged, striking Jaune as his arms flailed, knocking him flat on his back on the common room floor. The griffon leapt up, clawing furiously at the ceiling above.

Jaune rolled onto his shoulder; he still had hold of his sword, and he used it to stab the beowolf through the face. The dead grimm collapsed and turned to ashes almost immediately.

The griffon cried out as it tore through the ceiling, bringing down timber beams and floorboards and showers of plaster and cement boards down on top of him with a thud that battered down his aura and pinned him beneath a mound of rubble. Jaune coughed as dust — the other kind of dust — threatened to get into his throat.

The griffon climbed on top of the mound of rubble — and on top of Jaune. He could feel its weight pressing down upon him and on what aura he had left.

It cocked its head to one side and chirruped, just as it had when it had first knocked him down.

A gust of flame, an inferno of flame, tore through the hole in the outer wall and rushed like a maddened horde of grimm into the common room. The griffon barely had time to look around before the fires engulfed it. Jaune felt the fires singe him, felt the heat wash over him, and was kind of worried that all the wood on top of him would catch fire too, honestly.

But he also heard the griffon scream in pain as the flames burned it up.

And when the fires died, there was nothing left of it at all, just a few wisps of smoke and some gently drifting ashes.

Jaune looked through the hole in the wall to see who it was had come to his rescue.

His eyes widened. "You?!"

Author's Note

I wonder who that could be.

So, as I alluded to last time, the point of all this is to diminish the party yet further until only Pyrrha is left to go down into the vault to confront Amber and her allies. Who will survive, as the old Gundamn previews used to ask (often after they'd spoiled the characters deaths, somewhat annoyingly. Who will survive? Well, not Lt Matilda, you just told me that!)

Nevertheless, getting Jaune and Penny out of the way was a little bit of a struggle. I do think there is a difference between Pyrrha asking Jaune to hold back temporarily while he calls for help and catch up with her and actually leaving him behind, she isn't lying about that, she does intend for him to catch up and, frankly, they could use the extra help given they've gone down from seven to just the two of them and one of them is Jaune.

The Vault of the Fall Maiden (Rewritten)

The Vault of the Fall Maiden

Pyrrha had reached the drop.

She stood where Amber had brought them, before the Vytal Festival, before — Pyrrha didn’t know for sure but could only assume, because it would have been very foolish on her part to have shown them this place otherwise — she had decided to betray them and give the Relic up to Salem.

She stood looking down upon the narrow ledge, about fifteen below her, from whence and only from whence could be accessed the Vault of the Fall Maiden and the Relic of Choice.

The last time she had been here, Sunset, Ruby, and Penny had all been with her — along with Amber, of course.

Now, she was alone. She had allowed Sunset to be sent away, she had left Ruby behind on the battlefield … she had turned her back on Penny.

And Amber was already within the Vault, waiting for her.

That was the best case scenario, that her friend, that someone whom Pyrrha at least had considered a friend, was waiting for her, now an enemy, and that Pyrrha would have to…

To stop her. Put it like that. Put it like that because to put it more strongly … Pyrrha did not wish to take that step, not with Amber, and especially not having never taken that step before.

But she must take another step now.

The step down.

Pyrrha stood looking down on the ledge. Beside her, the stream that cut across the school grounds thundered down the cliffs, the waterfall splashing on the ledge below, adding another layer of concealment to the Vault and its entrance.

She would not be alone for long, once Jaune caught up with her, but right now, she was alone, and she would have to go alone because she could not wait for Jaune.

Amber’s plans, the need to protect the Relic, the need to honour Professor Ozpin’s memory, none of it would wait for Jaune.

Pyrrha would have to go now, though her heart…

This was not the battle that she would have chosen.

It was the battle that fate had chosen for her.

She had hoped to choose her own destiny, but instead, an inescapable fate reached out its hand towards her, and its wings beat to gust upon her back and drive her on.

Not of her choosing, not in her gift to refuse.

Pyrrha leapt down, gripping Miló in spear mode with both hands, ready to jam the spearpoint down into the rock of the ledge if need be to assist with the landing.

She hoped Jaune would be alright getting down here; it was not the easiest place to get to. She hoped that he would think to use Crocea Mors to help him.

She was sure he’d be alright; what he still lacked in a degree of skill, he made up for in wit.

For her own part, Pyrrha landed heavily, her knees bending beneath her, but she landed, and she didn’t slip on the rock. The water from the waterfall splashed into her face and dripped down her bangs to gently touch her nose, but it didn’t threaten her footing.

Now, Amber had held out her hand, into the water, and spoken the words.

Pyrrha took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling.

“Friend of my soul,” she whispered. “If, being away from this war, we might live unchanging all our days, I would not send you forth into the battle, nor venture upon the hazards of the field myself. But, as it is, ten thousand fates of death surround us, which no man may escape or avoid. Therefore, let us go, and either die yielding glory to another, or else winning glory for ourselves.”

They were not the words that would open the vault, Pyrrha knew that, but they were words, Mistralian words, some of the most ancient Mistralian words, that sat close by the heart of what it meant to be Mistralian, and in this time, in this night, they gave her comfort.

She must go; that was theme and truth.

She held out her arm, feeling the water splash upon her glove, upon her gilded vambrace, and even reach as far as her honour band above her elbow.

Pyrrha began to speak the words.

“Valour.”

“Valour,” Amber said. Her voice trembled, but she pressed on. “A huntsman is sworn to valour. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.”

Amber shivered, and not from the chill of the water that was dropping onto her hand and arm, splashing up her skin, even flicking into her face at times.

It was cold, a little cooler than the autumn night around them, but that was not why she shivered.

She shivered because … these were not her friends. They meant nothing to her; they did not stir her heart or soul. But they were Ozpin's words — they had meant something to him, at least — and she had…

I did what I had to do. I did what he gave me no choice but to do. I did what my safety and my happiness required of me.

And yet … and yet … and yet, and yet, and yet…

And yet, there was blood on her hands that all the water of this waterfall could not wash away.

Ozpin's blood, yes, but not just Ozpin's. Lyra's blood, also. Amber hadn't seen her die, but Lightning Dust had gone away to 'handle her' as Tempest had commanded, and then she had come back a little while later with a grin on her face that was too self-satisfied — and too much like a shark — for Amber's liking.

There was blood on her hands too: actual blood, real blood, red blood staining the black of her heavy gloves. There were times when the dark of the night concealed the blood and Amber could almost forget that it was there, and then there were other times when the moonlight would shine down and reveal the drying red stains on the black synthetic material that Lightning wore.

And when Amber saw it, as well as her dislike of Lightning Dust, she could not forget that she had blood on her hands too, Lyra's blood, which pained her more than Ozpin's blood, though both were intermingled on her palms.

Ozpin had … if he had not gotten what he deserved, then he could not call himself an innocent in all of this. He had gotten Amber into this, as he had gotten so many others into this; he had caused Amber to come to harm; he had sent Ruby's mother to her death; he had ordered people out to die and despatched them to die and encompassed their deaths as part of his machinations. How could he do all of that and complain that he, too, should die?

But Lyra was — Lyra had been — different. Lyra had been no part in this until Amber made her a part of this, Amber and Bon Bon, who had as much blood on her hands as Amber did, though it be just as invisible.

Lyra had been no killer, no sender of others to their deaths, no old spider sitting atop his tower and spinning his webs that would trap the brave and the fearful in equal measure and suck the life out of them. Lyra had been kind and gentle. Lyra had been so kind, and so brave in heart, that she had volunteered to help Amber, hardly knowing the cause, only believing that it was the right thing to do.

Because she had been Dove's friend.

She had been Dove's friend, and for their friendship and out of her good heart, she had agreed to help Dove and help Amber too, and that willingness to help had cost her her life.

And the blood was upon Amber's hands. There was no little water that could quit her of the deed, no, not even all the water in the waterfall that fell down the side of the cliff and past the vault could wash it away.

Not least because, at Amber's words, at Amber having spoken Ozpin's words, the waterfall had parted, the water diverted away by some invisible force, the ancient magic set upon the place, and revealed the entrance that would have been hidden otherwise, though they had plunged into the water in search of it.

Tempest Shadow let out a wordless crowing sound, an exclamation that was all the more remarkable for coming from her, who had not sounded so jubilant all night.

It was as well that someone felt some glee at what they were doing, Amber supposed, but she did not like the sound as she did not like her who made the sound.

But, if she was going to set Amber free, then … then Amber supposed that she could make all the annoying sounds she wished to.

Amber looked at them, at all of them, all that remained now that Lyra was dead.

It didn't seem so very long ago that she had brought Sunset, Pyrrha, Penny, and Ruby here, and yet, at the same time, it seemed an age ago, a very long time. Such a very long time she had stood here with them, having just opened the waterfall and exposed the vault.

Now, she stood here with some very different companions, and there was no danger of Ozpin coming to catch them in the act.

Dove stood closest to her; Amber had helped him down, and he had stood at her side as she had opened the Vault. He hadn't said anything, they hadn't spoken about Lyra, there hadn't been time. Whatever he felt about it, and Amber thought it could be nothing good, he hadn't left or turned on her as he might have done. If he had, then Amber might not even have been able to call it betrayal. His brow was furrowed, his eyes were hooded, and those were just the most visible signs of the discomfort that he must be feeling, but he was by her side yet, and Amber hoped that he would remain.

We will … I will … I don't know if there's any way that I can make this right, but I will try.

I'll do anything.

Tempest Shadow stood behind him, smiling, looking over Amber's head and past her to the water that had parted like a curtain, to the gaping hole in the cliff that had now been revealed to them, to the Vault of the Fall Maiden that lay open before them. Her opal eyes were wide and bright, and equally bright was the smile that played upon her face. She, at least, was enjoying herself, or if not enjoying herself, then at least … she had gotten everything she wanted out of tonight so far. Lyra's death troubled her not at all; it was not near her conscience. Her mind and heart were united in their focus on the prize that lay ahead.

Lightning Dust was behind her, and mostly seemed to look surprised at what Amber had done, glance shifting between the open Vault and the Fall Maiden as though she couldn't quite believe the connection between the two. She didn't seem to notice the blood on her hands; she rested one hand on the rock face, though the blood had dried too much to stain it. She wasn't even trying to wash it off in the water falling down the cliff.

Bon Bon was the last of all; her helmet was on, so that Amber couldn't see her face, but it seemed to Amber that covering her face was itself a sign of Bon Bon's shame. She didn't want her face to be seen, by Amber or by anyone else, and she was looking away so that she couldn't see their faces either. She stood with her back to the cliff and her side to the waterfall, so that Amber wasn't even sure if she'd noticed that the waters had parted and the way was open to them or not. She looked … she looked as though she might be thinking of jumping from the cliff, down towards Vale spread out beneath them.

Amber hoped she wouldn't — there had been too much death already — but … but how would she even begin to persuade Bon Bon so, and in front of these people too?

"Come!" Tempest cried enthusiastically. "Come, let us move! Amber, lead us in. Bon Bon!"

Bon Bon started, and Amber was worried that she might fall off the cliff whether she wanted to or not.

"Come on!" Tempest said. Her gaze found Amber's eyes once again. "Lead on."

Amber nodded silently and stepped forward, treading upon the wet stone stained with the parted waters of the waterfall, even as her arms, her hair, her scarred face became drier as she passed out of reach of the water.

The Vault of the Fall Maiden lay before her, a hole in the side of the cliff and steps leading down into the earth and into the darkness. The tunnel was illuminated, to an extent, with green mosses that gave off light as they colonised the rocky walls, glowing like fire dust crystals in their sconces, save that they glowed green instead of a dull red. But green or red, they served to illuminate the steps carved unnaturally into the stone, the steps down which Amber walked.

Amber's footfalls were light, but nonetheless, they echoed in this chamber and were swiftly joined by other, heavier footsteps: Dove, Tempest, Lightning Dust, and then, finally, Bon Bon, bringing up the rear.

"The waterfall is closing up," Bon Bon said, her voice dull, muffled by her helmet but also, Amber thought, by her mood.

Lightning's voice was a little more vigorous as she said, "And the entrance is closing too!"

"It will reopen when we come back," Amber told them, looking back over her shoulder, looking at Tempest. "It closes to stop anyone from following us down here."

Tempest nodded. "Makes sense."

"Does it?" Lightning asked.

"Yes," Tempest said. "It does. What would be the point in trapping the Fall Maiden herself down here? This works in our favour; we don't want to be disturbed."

The entrance to the cavern had been narrow, and it shutting up after them scarcely reduced the light, which in any case came mostly from the moss that grew on the walls. Amber could see the steps beneath her quite clearly as she walked downwards towards the inner sanctum, the Reliquary where the Relic itself was stored.

She led the way, and the others followed, until they reached the point where the tunnel and its steps opened up into a broader, flat cavern, no longer going down but moving straight along, wide and expansive — certainly compared to the tunnel staircase that they'd just descended — with a high ceiling and graven statues carved into the rock. Statues of kings with stern looks, the eye of every king seeming to be fixed on Amber in stern judgement.

Traitor, said their eyes. Trespasser. Murderer. Unworthy Maiden.

I did not ask for this! cried Amber in her mind and in her heart. I did not seek this power! I never wanted to be a Fall Maiden and bear the secrets of this place! All I wanted was a peaceful life, and yet, such burdens were laid upon my shoulders that it is only with treachery and death that I may buy the humble wishes of my heart!

The stone kings seemed unmoved; their gaze seemed no less hostile, their judgement no less stern and unyielding. They hated her, Amber thought; they would strike her down if only they could.

The sooner she was out of their sight, the better. Amber knew that they were only stone, that they could not move, that they would not rise up out of their places on the wall to attack her, but nevertheless, their looks alone were enough to … to remind her of all that she had done.

Lyra… they seemed to whisper to her. Lyra … Lyra.

She almost fancied that, in this still underground, she could hear as if from far away the sound of a harp playing.

Amber took a step forward, and then another, turning her face away from the old kings in their crowns and looking towards the statue in the centre of the chamber, the statue of the first Fall Maiden, with her kerchief around her neck and her short hair, similar to Amber's own.

Do you judge me too? Do you hate me also? Do you hold me in contempt, unworthy of my inheritance?

Or do you … do you understand?

"Do you think…?" Amber whispered. "Do you think that she was surprised, when she offered a few kind words to an old man, when she and her sisters did a few favours to a recluse in the woods … do you think they had any idea what he was about to do to them?"

"'Do to them'?" Tempest repeated, as she walked up behind Amber. "You make it sound as though they were mistreated. He gave them gifts."

"He gave them power," Lightning added.

"Power they never asked for," Amber replied, looking at them over her shoulder. "All they wanted was to help someone whom they saw in need, and he repaid their generosity by making them targets, weapons. Do you think, if they had known, would they still have helped him? Would Winter have encouraged his meditation, Spring have cleaned up his garden, Summer dragged him out of the house, Fall taught him contentment? Or would they have turned away and let him rot inside his cabin for all eternity if that was what he wanted?"

"No," Dove said, his voice so soft that Amber had to prick up her ears to hear it. "No, they wouldn't have done that."

Amber looked at him. "No?"

"No," Dove repeated. "I think … I think even if they'd known, even if the heavens had opened and shown them everything that was to happen to the Maidens in the centuries to come, they would still choose to help the old man. Because that was the sort of people they were."

Amber felt there was a criticism of her there, if subtly couched; she didn't respond to it, partly because she deserved to be criticised, and if this subtle critique was all Dove threw her way, then she should count her blessings, but also because … maybe he was right, but that said little flattering about the first Maidens to Amber's mind, that they would condemn their successors to be hunted, murdered, to be forced into hiding, torn from their lives. That did not sound like the actions of four supremely kind, thoughtful, helpful girls.

So perhaps Dove was wrong about them, even if he was right about her.

Amber once more looked up into the face of the Fall Maiden whose statue loomed above her, looking in that face for grace, for understanding, for absolution if such a thing were possible.

There was compassion there, upon that stone face, more than there had been in the eyes of the stone kings. At least, Amber thought she found it there, hoped she did, flattered herself that she did.

Compassion, yes, but not absolution. Of course there was no absolution. No stone statue could absolve her of Lyra's death.

No one living could, either.

"They all wear the same crown," Tempest murmured. "Amber, is it through there?"

Amber looked away from the statue, first at Tempest herself and then following the line of Tempest's outstretched hand towards the door, like glass or crystal as red as fire dust, as red as the most brilliant autumn leaves that fall from the trees, that barred the way at the far end of the cavern.

This had been the point at which Ozpin had appeared to interrupt them, when she had been here with Sunset, Pyrrha, and the others; he would not interrupt them now.

"Yes," Amber said softly. "Yes, that's it."

"The Relic is through that door?" Tempest confirmed.

"Yes, it is," said Amber.

"So … this is it?" Lightning asked. "No tricks, no traps?"

"Only … only the Fall Maiden can open the door," Amber reminded her. "And only someone who knows the secret can enter the Vault in the first place. That is meant to be protection enough."

"That worked well," Lightning muttered.

"Open the door, then," Tempest ordered. "Let's get the Relic and get out of here before anyone decides to come back to school and wait for us."

"Right," Amber murmured, walking around the statue of the Fall Maiden — walking behind her, so that face could no longer look down on her either in judgement or benevolence — and towards the vivid red door set in the rock.

It hardly resembled a door at all, more an opaque wall of glass or crystal, stretching across the stone, concealing what lay behind.

"What's on the other side?" asked Dove.

"I … don't know," Amber admitted, glancing at him as he walked beside and just behind her. "I've never actually opened it before."

"But you can?" asked Tempest, a slight touch of anxiety creeping into her face.

"Yes," Amber said as she walked towards the door. "I can."

Her steps were soft, slow; they barely made a sound, and that sound barely echoed off the stone walls. The others down here with her were either still or else making very slight movements themselves; even their footfalls did not echo much. Their movements as they closed in behind her were gradual, as if they were afraid that if they all came too close to the door, it would not recognise that they were not all Fall Maidens and refuse to open for them.

They were all behind Amber, even Dove who was the closest to her.

They were all behind her as Amber stood before the door and reached out her hand.

The golden bangles on her arm gleamed red in the light from the door as Amber laid her hand, palm flat, upon the crystal.

It was cold, as cold as ice beneath her palm and fingertips. For a moment, nothing happened; the Vault was quiet — silent even — and perfectly still. Everyone was waiting.

And then, as they waited quietly, there was a hum, like a tuning fork being struck upon a surface, and then the wall of red crystal glass dissolved as though it had never been, simply disappearing from sight right before their eyes.

The stone archway was clear, open before them, and in front of them was the Reliquary itself, the resting place of the Crown of Choice.

In front of them, through the archway, was a courtyard of stone; a courtyard under a grey overcast sky. A sky? A sky, here? A sky, underground? It couldn't be, it was impossible, and yet, when Amber looked up, when she stepped forward over threshold, there was no mistake. She hadn't confused a lighter shade of the stonework with the sky; it really was sky: a sky covered in clouds, a sky that looked like it portended rain, but a sky nonetheless.

"My God," Dove murmured, as he followed Amber inside. "What is this place? How is this place?"

"It's not possible," Lightning whispered.

"And yet, here we are," Tempest said casually, or at least she was trying to sound casual. "Much of what we are about would seem impossible, to outsiders, why not this?"

"I guess," Lightning agreed. "But even so, it's weird."

"Weird is not something I have a problem with," Tempest replied. "My problem is more the absence of any Relic before us."

Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong. Amber brought her eyes down from the sky and looked around. The stone courtyard was not so large; it reminded her a little of the courtyard at Beacon, except instead of the statue of the huntsman and huntress at the centre of it, there was a tree, a dead tree, its branches devoid of any hint of leaves, its silver bark peeling away in places to expose the brown beneath. It was dead, but it was tall nevertheless, its trunk rising upwards towards the cloudy sky, its branches twisting and turning this way and that as they reached out across the Reliquary.

The Reliquary that was devoid of a Relic itself, for Amber could see no sign of the Crown.

Tempest's nostrils flared as she stalked around the tree, her footsteps pounding upon the stone of the courtyard even as she disappeared from view for a moment behind the great trunk. When she reappeared, her opal eyes flashed with anger.

"Where is it?" she demanded, striding up to Amber. "Where is it?"

Dove stepped between Tempest and Amber. She loved him for that. She loved him for much, but the fact that he was still willing to do that, for her, in spite of everything … it gave her hope, even amongst the disappointment that was the lack of Relic.

"I don't know," Amber admitted. "I told you, I've never been into this part of the Vault before."

"Maybe it's not here," Lightning suggested. "Maybe the Relic is held somewhere else and this is all just a trick to fool the old man's enemies?"

"No," Amber said quickly. "No, Ozpin told me this is where the Relic was."

"Then why can't we see it?" Tempest snapped.

"I don't know!" Amber cried.

Tempest growled with frustration. "Spread out and search!" she ordered.

"Search where?" asked Lightning.

"Everywhere!" Tempest roared, her hands clenching into fists as she rounded on Lightning.

Lightning's question was a fair one, because there wasn't a huge amount of ground to search. This place did not appear to be hemmed in — there was sky above instead of a stony ceiling, and there were no visible walls to encompass them — but at the same time, there was … it was hard to describe. The courtyard stretched on, but at the same time, the courtyard had limits. Limits that could not be seen but which clearly existed nonetheless. They sensed them, rather than saw them; when Amber got too close, she felt that she was reaching the limit, that she could go no further. If she tried, if she even thought about it, she was hit with a painful headache, a needling pain driven through her forehead, and she had to retreat back a step into the acceptable limits of the courtyard.

Within those limits, they found nothing. The courtyard was not all grey stone, there were hedgerows at the corners, and flowerbeds surrounding them where pink and chrysanthemums and autumn glories grew, but they didn't find the crown hidden in the hedges or buried in the soil of the flowerbeds. Their hands became covered with dirt — better that than blood — and they were no closer to finding the relic.

Tempest let out a wordless snarl of frustration. "It must be hidden beneath the tree; we'll have to root it up."

"And how long is that going to take?" asked Lightning.

"Do you have a better idea?" snapped Tempest.

"Amber," Dove said. "Why don't you ask for it?"

Amber blinked. "Ask for it?"

"I'm not sure that this thing, this Relic, would be hidden in this way," Dove explained. "Buried under the soil. This place … it's strange; we're underground, but there's a sky and no walls. It's … it's magic. Maybe the reason we can't see the Relic is because of magic, as well. But if you're the Fall Maiden, if you're the one who is supposed to come in here, then maybe if you ask for the Relic, then you'll be given it."

What Dove said made a certain amount of sense — as much sense, at least, as tearing down a tree — so Amber nodded. She gently reached out towards him with one hand.

With equal if not surpassing gentleness, Dove took her hand. The very fact that he had, that he held her hand, that she could feel his rough skin upon hers, made Amber feel better, stronger, perhaps even a little braver.

It kept her voice from trembling as she raised it to the magical sky of the Reliquary. "I am the Fall Maiden," she declared. "And I have come to retrieve the Relic of Choice."

Again, there was a silence, no response. Again, it lasted for a moment, perhaps two, before three stone pillars, plain and unadorned, shimmered into view before the dead tree, three pillars all in a row. And on top of each pillar, there sat a casket, a large, squarish box, each one big enough to hold a crown within. One box was glittering gold, ornately patterned with images of kings like the ones engraved in stone upon the wall behind; another was plain iron, undecorated, unadorned, just cold metal, sitting there square and solid with corners sharp enough to cut; the last of the three caskets was made of wood, a rich, dark wood, varnished, and engraved with ivy patterns tracing their looping paths all around the casket.

"What's this?" Tempest asked.

"I don't—" Amber began.

"It's the Relic of Choice," Bon Bon said, her voice echoing out of her helmet. "We have to choose."

Everyone looked at her.

"You're saying the Relic is in one of these boxes?" asked Lightning.

"I think so," Bon Bon murmured.

Lightning shrugged. "Then let's just open all of them and pick the Relic out of the one we find it in." She strode up to the first casket — the golden casket — and grasped at the lid to lift it.

To try to lift it. Lightning Dust grunted and tugged at the lid, but it did not budge. She let out another, longer grunt, bloody hands scrabbling for purchase upon the ornate golden surface, but despite all that she did, she could not lift the lid.

"Having trouble?" Tempest asked archly.

Lightning glared at her and tried to lift the casket up off its plinth, only to find that she couldn't do that either.

She took a step back and punched the casket with one fist. There was a booming sound, like the ringing of a gong, and Lightning stepped back, clutching one hand.

She winced in my aura. "That dropped my aura!" she said. "What is this?"

"It's a fairy tale," Dove said. "And in a fairy tale, nobody cheats like that. It isn't possible."

Lightning cradled her hand. "I don't know if you've noticed, lover boy, but this isn't no fairy tale."

"I know," Dove said, softly, wearily. "But … that's where these things belong, isn't it? I think we have to choose — or Amber has to choose — properly, as if in a story."

"And if we choose wrong?" Tempest asked.

"Then the Relic will be out of our grasp," Amber murmured.

Tempest was silent for a moment, then she bowed her head and crouched down to the ground, clutching at the sides of her face with both hands, running her fingertips onto the top of her head, brushing against her tall mohawk.

A wordless sobbing sound escaped her.

"I just wanted to get the Relic," she moaned. "I just wanted to come down here, pluck a crown from off the floor or wherever else it might be, and then leave. In and out and gone before anyone realised. All I wanted was for this to be simple, was that really so much to ask?" She sighed. "Why me?"

She fell silent. They all fell silent, silent and watchful, waiting to see what Tempest would say or do next, to find out what they all would say or do next.

Tempest leapt to her feet, clapping her hands together. "Right!" she cried. "If we must choose, then we must choose; what other choice do we have? Not to go back to Salem empty-handed without even trying." She looked at Amber. "You must choose. But we must choose wisely, since it may be that we will only get one choice, so we cannot choose until we are absolutely certain." She paused. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

No one spoke.

Tempest rolled her eyes. "Don't everyone jump in at once," she muttered.

It was some time later. Amber wasn't entirely sure how long they'd been down here — with no real sky, no way or looking at the moon or looking east towards the potential rising of the sun, there was no natural way of telling what time of day or night it was, and their scrolls weren't working down in the Reliquary; something was blocking them, perhaps even the magic of this ethereal place — but it felt as though it had been a not insubstantial amount of time.

They had not chosen. She had not chosen. The three caskets of gold, iron, and wood still sat there, waiting, seeming almost to mock Amber and her confederates in their inability to make a choice.

Indecision had frozen them up like the Indecisive King, unable to act for fear of the consequences of his actions. Fear of losing the Crown of Choice made them unable to choose a casket that might contain it.

Amber included herself in that; in fact, for her, the fear might be greater than any of them. She had staked everything upon her ability to deliver the Relic of Choice up into Salem's hands; that ability, the unique ability as the Fall Maiden, as the custodian of the Vault, had purchased from Salem the guarantee of her freedom. To do this, she had betrayed Sunset and Pyrrha, she had killed Ozpin, she had gotten Lyra killed, what was worse; she had covered her hands with blood, precipitated a battle; everything that had unfolded or was unfolding was predicated upon her ability to deliver the Relic, and she couldn't do it. If she chose and chose wrongly, and the Relic slipped out of Salem's grasp, what chance that she would be merciful? None, as far as Amber could tell; she would leave her to Cinder, or else Tempest would kill her and try to take the other half of the powers; either way, Amber would die, and Salem would take the knowledge of the Vault and the powers of the Fall Maiden and wait for another opportunity to choose again at some later date. And it would be too late to go crawling back to her old friends, to cry their pardon, beg forgiveness. Amber had seen the fate of Sunset and remembered it still, how they had turned on her despite her tears and her regrets. Even Pyrrha, who had claimed to love Sunset best, had turned her back on her in the end, and Ruby…

It had been bad enough to think of them finding out last night, when Amber hadn't done anything yet. Now, Amber had caused the deaths of two people — a third as many as Sunset — they'd kill for sure. There would be no mercy in that direction. She was between the fire and the flood, and her only hope was to choose wisely and well and pluck the crown from out of the correct casket.

Whichever that was.

Gold, iron, or wood. How was she supposed to choose?

Nobody seemed to know. Tempest stood in front of the caskets, glowering down at them as if she could intimidate them into giving up their secrets — or better yet, the Relic itself. Lightning Dust paced up and down. Bon Bon stood, impassive, by the entrance into the Reliquary, her face still concealed beneath her helmet.

Dove sat beside Amber, his shoulder touching hers.

Amber glanced at him. "Dove," she whispered.

Dove glanced at her, his head shifting a little, his eyes moving more. "Do you have the answer?"

"No," Amber said quickly, shaking her head. "No, this is something … something else. Dove … I'm sorry, about Lyra, I—"

"I know," Dove said quickly, before she could say anything else. "You didn't mean for that. I know you didn't. You're not the one I blame for that."

Amber frowned. "I'm not … but then…" She followed his gaze towards Bon Bon. She looked back at him. "Bon Bon?"

"She should never have gotten Lyra involved in this," Dove said. "Just like she shouldn't have led Sky down to the Breach. You weren't the one who approached Lyra; Bon Bon did that. She didn't have to, but she did, and Lyra's dead because of it." His jaw clenched for a moment. "I should like to make her pay for it, but—"

"Dove, no!" Amber hissed. "If you do that, then—"

"I know," Dove said, sighing. "I know; that's why I said I'd like to, but I won't. Don't worry, I won't." He reached out for her, his fingertips gently brushing against her scarred cheek. "I won't do anything to jeopardise your arrangement. Anything that would put you in danger."

"I hope you two are whispering about these boxes," Tempest said sharply. "Have you any ideas?"

"N-no," Amber said quickly. "No, I don't. We don't." She looked at Dove. "Do we?"

"I…" Dove trailed off, but he didn't say that he hadn't a clue.

"Dove?" Amber repeated.

"Ugh, at least give us a hint!" Lightning roared up the cloudy sky. "What are we even supposed to be deciding on? Which box would be the best to hit someone with?"

"It's a fairy tale," Dove said softly.

Tempest looked at him. "What did you say?"

Dove climbed to his feet. "I said, it's a fairy tale. That's the logic that we're meant to be deciding on. If this were a story, and the heroine were confronted with three chests, one of which held the object they were looking for, which would they choose?"

"You tell us; you're the one who keeps bringing up fairy tales," Lightning muttered. She paused for a moment. "It's iron," she said, louder and more firmly. "You say that this is about stories, okay, fine, in stories, it's always the cheap and tatty option to teach kids not to judge by appearances; the gold box and the wooden box both look too nice, the iron box looks like something you might buy from an SDC subsidiary; it's that one."

"Let's not be too hasty," Tempest said. "We don't know for certain that … I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

"Dove."

"We don't know for certain that Dove is correct," Tempest went on. "It may not be fairy tale logic. What if it is as simple as the gold chest because… look at it. Look at how it shines, look at how ornately decorated it is, look at the way that it's clearly meant to be looked at with awe and wonder. It is the chest for a crown! What king would put his crown in a plain iron casket, or even in a well-carved, I admit, wooden one, when he could put it inside this, which is almost as much a treasure as the treasure within?"

"That's the logic of the unworthy elder sibling," Amber murmured. "Who attempts the quest but fails at it."

Tempest's eyes narrowed. "Did you just call me unworthy?"

"No," Amber said. "I said that you were talking like such a person just then, that's all."

Tempest inhaled through her nose. "Wasn't a king more likely to put their crown in a gold chest than in one of iron or wood, can anyone dispute that?"

"Did a king put this particular crown in here?" asked Bon Bon.

Tempest didn't reply to that. "Alright then, if you're all determined that it's not the gold … iron or wood, which is it?"

"Iron," Lightning insisted. "It's cheap, it's ugly looking, but it's strong too. Wood is weak, and so is gold, for that matter; they're both vulnerable; they can both be destroyed … usually. But iron is strong and hard; iron is what you'd put something precious in to keep it safe."

Tempest reached out and rapped upon the iron casket with her knuckles. "I think you might have a point," she conceded. "We don't build ships out of wood anymore, after all, and we don't make them out of gold either." She paused. "Any thoughts, Bon Bon?"

"No," Bon Bon said, shaking her helmeted head. "No, I don't know. Lyra … I don't know."

Amber got up and took a step forward towards the caskets. To Dove, she asked, "Are you sure this is how we're meant to decide, are you sure that it's fairy tale logic?"

"Sure, as in certain?" Dove asked. "No. No, I'm not. But it makes sense to me. As much sense as anything else. I mean, without something to reference for making the choice, how is anyone supposed to get it right?"

"Maybe that's the idea," Amber suggested. "That no one can guess right and get the Relic."

"Maybe," Dove admitted. "But if the point was to make sure no one can ever get the Relic, why have a test at all? It feels like it has to be winnable, and it has to play fair, somehow, once you figure out the rules."

Amber thought. It wasn't proof, but at the same time, what Dove was saying did make some sense.

And it wasn't as though they had any other ideas.

Amber took another step towards the caskets, and then another.

Between fire and flood.

She would only get one choice, one chance to get this right, or all would be lost for her; she was hazarding a lot on Dove being right about this, but at the same time … it felt right.

If this was a fairy tale, or if it worked like a fairy tale, then trusting the wisdom of the boy she loved couldn't lead her wrong, could it?

Amber brushed past Tempest and came to stand beside her, facing the caskets.

The gold casket she dismissed at once; it was so obviously wrong, it was hardly even worth thinking about. It was, as Amber had said, the choice that one of the failed would-be heroes to come before the real heroine would have made, one of her vain, spoiled sisters favoured by their father and sent off to prove themselves and win the great reward. No, the Relic was not within the gold casket; that was transparently the wrong choice. But the iron casket, or the wood? Tempest and Lightning both favoured iron, and Amber could see why: it had a certain appeal; she didn't dismiss it out of hand. But was it the right choice, or would she choose it only to find it empty and her one chance of securing the Relic slipped away from her?

Amber bit her lip and thought, as her eyes flickered between the plain iron chest and the decorated wood.

Lightning said that it would be the iron chest, because the iron casket looked cheap and unappealing. She had a point, but not as much of one as she seemed to think. 'Don't judge by appearances' was a moral, true, but what was Lightning doing if not judging by appearances? Only, instead of judging by the appearance of finery and luxury, she was doing the exact opposite and judging by the appearance of ugliness.

If this were a fairy tale, and if said tale was intending to preach such a moral, then Amber thought — Amber could not help but think — that the wooden casket would be the correct choice. She could see it now, in her mind's eye. She could imagine it in a big book, being read to her by her mother at bedtime, or … sharing it with Ozpin, during one of his visits.

She could hear the old man's voice, soft, gentle, and gently amused, as he sat before the fire with a book on his lap, the firelight glinting off his spectacles.

He would tell her of three sisters: one vain, one strong, and both proud of their respective gifts; and a third sister who seemed to have nothing remarkable about her and was disregarded by both her father and her sisters.

He would tell her of how, one by one, the three siblings each tried their luck obtaining some great treasure that would save the family fortunes — no, save the kingdom, the whole kingdom from … something. Amber couldn't think what.

The first sister, the beautiful but vain one, would choose the gold casket, because it was gold, rich, beautiful, luxurious, all the things that she was or hoped to be or have in her life. But it would be empty.

The second sister, the mighty but proud one, would choose the iron casket, because it was strong, tough, resilient. But it would be empty.

And the third sister, the disregarded one, would choose the wooden casket, because she could perceive what her eldest sister could not, the beauty in the carved wood, the intricate pattern that adorned it and the craftsmanship required to make it so. She would be able to look beyond the simplicity of the materials to comprehend the beauty, the wonder that could be found in small and simple things: a well made wooden box, a cottage with a garden, a sweet young man with a good heart.

It was with an untrembling hand that Amber reached out and placed her palm down upon the wooden casket. "This is my choice," she declared.

Tempest's eyes bulged. "What?" she snapped. "You can't just—"

All three caskets, and the pillars of stone that supported them, disappeared. The dead tree groaned as a crevice opened up in its trunk, growing wider and wider, the wood rending itself apart as the crevice became large enough to stick a hand into and then large enough to behold, in full, the Relic of Choice resting there, gleaming despite the shadow of the trunk, waiting to be picked up.

Tempest gasped, a ragged gasp borne of relief. "You … you did it!" she cried. "You … well done!" She smiled a smile which almost seemed genuine. "Well done."

More gratifying to Amber, as Tempest turned her back and strode quickly to the tree, was Dove's embrace as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close, planting a kiss upon her cheek.

"Congratulations," he said. "You did it."

Amber leaned upon him, resting her body against his chest as she looked ever so slightly down upon him. "With your help."

Dove let out a dismissive chuckle. "You're free now, aren't you?"

"We're free," Amber said. "Together." She hesitated, because now would be the moment when he would reveal that he had changed his mind — if, indeed, he had changed his mind.

Instead, he wrapped his other arm around her, enfolding her within his embrace. "Together," he agreed. "The two of us."

Tempest reached into the trunk of the dead tree and pulled out the Crown of Choice in both hands. She held the Relic reverently, as if she were both afraid to drop it and at the same time afraid to hold it too tightly, lest it shatter. She held it out to them as she turned around.

The Crown of Choice was a crown of gold, a simple golden band for the most part, with but three jewels set in it: a large, diamond shaped ruby that burned brightly like a single eye piercing the soul that fell under its gaze, and two small rubies flanking it like sentinels. Long shafts rose atop the crown, but so, too, did teeth descend diagonally downwards from the golden circle; Amber imagined it was not a comfortable crown to wear.

Fortunately, she did not have to wear it. She had done her part. It was as Dove had said: she was free now.

They were free now.

"Let's go," she said. "Quickly, before … let's go." She didn't know how long they'd been down here; perhaps people had started returning to Beacon already. They had lingered here long enough.

"Quite right," Tempest said, as she lowered the crown. "Well done, Amber. You have the thanks of our cause. We really couldn't have done it without you."

Amber didn't respond to that. She was grateful that she and Tempest would soon be parting ways as Dove released her, and the two of them joined Tempest, Lightning, and Bon Bon in heading back the way they'd come.

They had just left the reliquary and reentered the cavern when Pyrrha came bounding down the steps with Miló in hand.

Pyrrha's hair and sash alike streamed out behind her as she dashed down the tunnel steps, taking them two, three at a time, stepping so swiftly that her footfalls made no sound at all upon the stone.

The last time she had been here, they had taken the steps cautiously, but now, she had no time for caution, even in the dim light provided by luminescent moss; she had no time to do anything but plunge, headlong and heedless as any of her ancestors far-famed for their boldness — or their rashness — down the steps as she hoped she was not too late.

She reached the bottom, descending from the steps into the great cavern below, where the images of graven kings lined the walls and a great statue of the Fall Maiden dominated the expansive space.

The crystal door, as red as autumn leaves, as red as her hair or the sash she wore around her waist, was gone. From around the statue, Pyrrha could see into a courtyard of stone, and what looked like a dead tree, trunk concealed but immense branches growing out past the Fall Maiden statue into view.

She could also see Amber, and Dove, and Amber's other confederates: Bon Bon, Lightning Dust, and a young woman with a deep magenta mohawk who must have been Tempest Shadow. Lyra was not there, which seemed to confirm Rainbow's fears for her after she had warned them what was going on.

In her hands, Tempest — the girl who must have been Tempest for she was the only one that Pyrrha didn't recognise — held a crown. A golden crown that seemed to Pyrrha's eyes to be somewhat angular in shape, with solid columns rising and falling at angles above and below the golden circle, and a blue sapphire like an eye set in the very centre of the crown like an eye.

So, they had recovered the Relic.

She was too late to prevent that.

She was just in time to prevent them carrying it away to Salem.

"Pyrrha," Amber gasped, gripping her wooden staff with both hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I think that's obvious, isn't it?" drawled Tempest.

Pyrrha ignored her. She remained where she was, blocking the route back up the stairs and out of the Vault. Miló was in her right hand, in spear mode, the tip currently pointed downwards towards the ground but able to be raised again in short order; Akoúo̱ was on her left arm, raised to cover her chest as she stood side on to her … enemies.

If they were all her enemies.

It was that hope, that they were not all so, that kept her eyes fixed on Amber. "Amber," she said softly. "I don't want to fight you."

Amber swallowed. "I don't want to fight you either, Pyrrha," she said, almost as quietly as Pyrrha herself, their voices barely carrying across the subterranean cavern. "So let me go."

"I can't do that," Pyrrha said. "Not with the Relic. I can't let you give it to Salem."

"Why not?" Amber demanded, taking a step forward. "Ozpin—"

"Is dead," Pyrrha interrupted her. "I know. I … I saw his body in the courtyard."

Amber flinched, but said, "Why shouldn't he die? He was willing to send others to their deaths, why shouldn't he die himself, what right did he have to stay safe in his tower while putting everyone else in danger?" She paused for a moment. "What do you owe him? You don't owe a dead man anything, Pyrrha, so why risk your life standing in my way?"

"Because I would be shamed," Pyrrha replied, her voice rising a little from its initial quiet. "Before the long line of my ancestors, before Jaune, before the great-hearted Mistralians and the huntsmen of Beacon."

"They wouldn't know," Amber said.

"Some would," Pyrrha pointed out. "And I would know, and I would feel the sting of the comparison."

Amber blinked. "So … what then? What would you have me do?"

"Stand aside," Pyrrha told her. "You and Dove. Let your weapons rest and let me deal with these servants of Salem. Return the Relic to its rightful resting place."

"If you do that, your deal is done," Tempest said sharply. "There will be nowhere you can feel safe from Salem's wrath."

"You can be protected, Amber," Pyrrha said.

"By who? By you? The way that you protected Sunset?" Amber snapped.

It took all Pyrrha's strength not to recoil from the sudden strength in Amber’s voice. "Sunset?"

"I was going to tell you all!" Amber cried. "I was going to confess everything to you, to all of you! After the way that you fought for me, against Cinder, I thought … I thought that I'd gotten everything so wrong. I was going to tell you the truth because I thought that you, my friends, my good friends, my dear friends who had fought for me, would understand. Would show charity." She shook her head and let out a laugh in which Pyrrha could not help but hear a touch of mockery. "And then … and then I saw what you did to Sunset. How Ruby spoke to her, what Ruby did to her and how the rest of you just stood there. I saw what you would do to me then, what would you do to me now?" Again that little laugh, that little mocking laugh. "I'm sure you would cry very pretty tears for me as Ruby put me to death, wouldn't you Pyrrha, friend of my soul?"

Pyrrha flinched; she did recoil, as she had had to resist doing before, but she was unable to resist now. Amber's words pierced her aura and cut her like knives, just as Mother's words had wounded her before, when she had spoken with her in her box.

She cut her to the quick, and all the more so for there being no response that Pyrrha could make, no answer that she could offer, no excuse, no explanation. The only thing that she could have possibly said rested on a judgement of Sunset's conduct, but how would that help considering what Amber had done tonight?

It cut her. It cut her in part because Amber spoke true, she had not acted as befit a friend, she ought to have taken Sunset under her protection as Turnus had taken the former Lord Agylla and his son beneath the mantle of his power after their disgrace; it cut also in part to know that if she had done that, if she had done right by Sunset last night, then Amber would have … then so much might have been avoided. Professor Ozpin would still live, this battle might not have come to pass, Tempest and Bon Bon…

So much ill I might have averted, had I played a generous part.

This is all my fault.

"I stand dishonoured," Pyrrha murmured. "And I am sorry, Amber, sorry that I did not give you cause to have faith in me — in us; sorry, too, that by my fault I pushed you to … all of this. To stain your hands with Professor Ozpin's blood."

Now, it was Amber's turn to flinch, her eyes glancing down towards her hands, although she said nothing.

"Is there anything that I can say that would convince you that … that I will do better by you than I did by Sunset?" asked Pyrrha, less in hope than in a sense, that if she did not ask, she would regret it hereafter.

Amber shook her head. "Nothing," she said, her voice as sharp as glass but just as fragile sounding too. "What I'm doing will guarantee my safety. I'll be free, Pyrrha, free of all of this, of wars and factions and Relics and all their plans and schemes and all who get caught between them. That's all I want, is to be free. So step aside, Pyrrha, and let me go, because I…" She paused for a moment. "I don't want to fight you, but I won't let you stand in my way."

Pyrrha's response was to level Miló, raising her spear so that it was poised above her shield, ready to strike. That was her only answer because they had reached the end of words, the moment at which there was nothing left for it but to speak with Miló instead of with her own faltering tongue.

So be it. If it be now, then let it come. Pyrrha felt … the misery that she had felt when speaking with Amber, when Amber had with justice accused her and heaped the blame upon her, all of that would return in time no doubt but at this moment, as she raised her spear and flowed into a fighting stance, Akoúo̱ held before her, then it fell from her like a coat that she was casting off, lest it hinder her movements.

She was in the little world now, the world that she had told Jaune she preferred to the wide world above in all its complexities. The kings of stone, carved into the walls, the Fall Maiden statue watching from above, they were her audience; this was her arena, and Amber's cohort were her many foes in these, Professor Ozpin's funeral games.

Amber, who had taken a step towards Pyrrha, now shuffled a step away from her once more.

She took one hand off her wooden staff, and motes of golden light began to rise lazily from out of her palm into the air.

Her semblance!

Pyrrha needed to act swiftly if she was to avoid the fate of Ruby, but unlike Ruby, she wasn't confused as to why Amber would want to put her to sleep, and so as soon as she saw the golden motes appear, she acted. She gave thanks that Amber's semblance was so slow to work, and trusted that it wouldn't work if Amber couldn't concentrate, as she leapt forward, spinning on her toe, sash whirling around her as she hurled Akoúo̱ through the air straight for Amber's head.

Dove appeared in front of her; no, not the real Dove as Pyrrha thought for a moment — he remained in his place at Amber's side — but his body glowed brightly for a moment, and a second Dove, a shining Dove like a statue in thinly-painted alabaster appeared in front of Amber. Statue-like in looks, statue-like, too, in its lack of movement as this second Dove was struck by Akoúo̱ straight in the face, shattering into pieces as Pyrrha's shield bounced off the Dove that had been and flew back towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha's left hand glowed with the black outline of her semblance as she guided her shield through the air, curving around the cavern to come at Amber from the side. Amber turned, the golden motes of light fading away as she whirled in place, but before Akoúo̱ could strike or she could attempt to defend herself from it, another shining Dove had appeared between Amber and onrushing Akoúo̱ and taken the blow, sending Pyrrha's shield flying off and away.

That is Dove's semblance, it must be, Pyrrha thought, though she had never seen it before. It lets him project a copy of himself, like one of Blake's clones, only it doesn't protect him but—

Pyrrha had no more time to consider the mechanics of Dove's semblance as Salem's agents hurled themselves upon her like ravening wolves.

Not quite. Wolves would have been more coordinated in their assault upon her, but these servants of Salem were not united in their onslaught. Pyrrha guessed that they had no experience of fighting as a group. Bon Bon was the first to reach her, simply by virtue of being the closest; she had stood off from the others and had the shortest distance to cover as she charged at Pyrrha silently, her face concealed beneath her helmet, swinging her morningstar Sirius above her head.

She moved a little faster than Pyrrha remembered her doing in combat class, and with a little more grace, but if she had been holding back, it wasn't enough to worry Pyrrha.

Bon Bon swung Sirius at her, the spiked metal ball flying out on its chain towards Pyrrha's face. Pyrrha swayed like a willow tree buffeted by a breeze, not needing Polarity to let the morningstar ball fly past her head. As it did so, Pyrrha struck, thrusting down with Miló into the chain that connected ball and shaft. She did not break the chain — Bon Bon's aura ran through it, protecting it just as Pyrrha's aura protected Miló — but she did wedge the tip of her spear into the chain and drive it down until she had buried Miló's point into the stone floor of the cavern and pinned Sirius in place with it.

Pyrrha left Bon Bon no time to react as she used upright Miló, lodged in the ground, as a pole, hauling herself up on it at a ninety-degree angle to kick Bon Bon in the armoured belly with both feet. How much her suit of armour meant that Bon Bon did not feel the blow, how much it protected her aura, Pyrrha could not say, but she could say with the confidence of seeing that it did not stop Bon Bon from being launched backwards through the air, out of the cavern and into the stone courtyard that lay beyond the door that Amber had opened for Salem's creatures. Bon Bon landed with a crash under the twisted branches of the great dead tree.

Pyrrha had just enough time to land her feet once more upon the ground and recover Miló before Lightning Dust became the next to strike. Lightning descended on Pyrrha like a thunderbolt, dropping from a leap that had carried her through the air, fist drawn back, her whole body wreathed in lightning that snapped and crackled and stood out brightly against the black of her bodysuit. Lightning's face was set in an angry grimace, and a wordless growl passed her lips as she fell on Pyrrha.

Pyrrha backflipped away before she landed; Lightning slammed her fist down into the cavern floor, splintering the stone and leaving a crater even as lightning briefly rippled up and down abandoned Sirius. Pyrrha landed, still facing Lightning Dust, able to see her as she charged, fists swinging.

Pyrrha fell back. Letting an enemy touch her was never a thing to be desired, but especially not when that enemy was surrounded by lightning as she was; Rainbow had told them about her own fight with Lightning Dust, how Lightning had crippled Penny and injured Ciel and how Rainbow herself had eventually had to endure the hit to her own aura in order to put Lightning out of the fight. That was all well and good, and perhaps it would even become necessary, but with the odds against her as they were and a Fall Maiden to contend with, Pyrrha was somewhat loath to burn aura in close quarters with Lightning Dust if she could avoid it. So she fell back at first, letting Lightning's punches, so widely telegraphed that she might have been using the CCT to announce them, swipe through the empty air.

Pyrrha wasn't sure what Lightning's bodysuit was made of, but she was fairly certain that that bulky tank full of dust on her back was metal. The black outline returned to Pyrrha's left hand; she might not be able to destroy the device with Lightning's aura protecting it, but perhaps she could—

No; the lightning that enfolded Lightning Dust, the lightning that she wore like chains, disrupted Pyrrha's magnetism; it was like … like trying to grab something slippery from oil or water, the way that Sunset described trying to use telekinesis on aura. Pyrrha could find no purchase with her semblance; the lightning would not allow it.

The way that Lightning's expression became ever so slightly smug suggested that she knew it too.

Or perhaps it was just what she was planning that made her look smug, as she stopped charging after the retreating Pyrrha and held out her hands in front of her, streams of lightning erupting from her fingertips, snapping like dogs on the hunt — and Pyrrha the deer whose scent they had.

Pyrrha leapt aside as the lightning ripped through the space where she had stood, slamming into the wall, sending stone splintering and shards flying across the floor around the tunnel mouth. Pyrrha rolled across the stone ground, Miló switching from spear to rifle in her hands as she brought the weapon to her shoulder and fired a single shot at Lightning Dust.

She didn't know if it would work, or if Lightning would be able to use her lightning to simply deflect or stop the bullet in its tracks. Either Pyrrha caught her by surprise or the bullet was moving too fast for such a trick, but Lightning staggered, clutching at her side. Pyrrha rose to her feet, Miló switching fluidly from rifle into spear once more as Pyrrha rushed two steps forward and then hurled Miló through the air, hoping that her thrown spear, too, would be too quick for Lightning to react.

It was, at least with Lightning already distracted by the earlier impact. Miló struck her on the breast and hurled her into the wall between two carved kings, Pyrrha's enemy disappearing in the cloud of dust thrown up by the impact.

Tempest roared as she became the last to join the fray; Pyrrha thought she might have held back to see how the others did, for she had been very slow otherwise, and yet, she did not seem slow as Pyrrha gave her her attention. Rather, she seemed fast, faster than either Bon Bon or Lightning Dust. She, too, wore a bodysuit all black, and in her hands, she wielded a metal quarterstaff, a staff which must have had hard light dust set in it because two beams of pale blue, like the beam that Trixie had projected from her wand during her match with Pyrrha and Sunset, rose from both ends of the staff, scoring marks in the floor of the cavern — they were not quite long enough to reach the ceiling — as Tempest wove the staff in circles past and around and before her as she attacked.

Once more, Pyrrha gave ground at first; she had paid Tempest Shadow no attention before now, and she wanted to get a feel for her, for how fast she was, for how she moved, before she counterattacked. Considering that she had not even known the Atlas student's face until now, it was likely that she was better known to her opponent than her opponent was to her.

Although, if not, that would also explain why she did not rush in to confront me.

She was fast, quick on her feet and quick with her hands too, and the beams of hard-light coming out of her the ends of her staff gave her an impressively long reach. She was at Pyrrha's heels like the pursuing cavalry that will not let the foe retire in good order from the field, and at times, her hard light beams passed very close to Pyrrha indeed, and only her honed reflexes prevented her aura being sliced off like ham off the bone.

But Pyrrha was avoiding her, if only by a hair's breadth, and if she could get inside the guard of her ponderously long—

Pyrrha's eyes widened as Miló was flung back at her; no, not thrown, shot back at her, shot by Lightning Dust, who was back on her feet between the statues of the kings, standing in front of the dent she had made in the wall. The lightning that wreathed her now surrounded Pyrrha's spear, lending it speed and force as she launched it at Pyrrha like one of Seraphis’ thunderbolts hurled by the angry master of the heavens.

Pyrrha leapt aside, her body twisting in the air, her hair flying about her; Miló was moving so fast, and yet at the same time so slowly, just as she was moving slowly too, or seemed to be, slow enough that she could see her red and gold spear fly past, nicking her aura in the process it came so close, before burying itself halfway down the shaft in the belly of a stone king.

Lightning had missed — just — but Tempest struck while Pyrrha was still suspended in midair from her leap, slamming her hardlight beam into Pyrrha's narrow strip of bare midriff.

Pyrrha winced in pain, the sound torn her lips, a momentary wish that she had stood firm against the insistence of that PR consultant as she was swept aside as by a wave rushing in from shore, her aura flaring in pain, swept almost a half-circle before being slammed sideways into the statue of the Fall Maiden. The stone cracked beneath her impact, but the statue did not break.

Pyrrha fell to her hands and knees at the Maiden's feet, before the stone plinth on which the statue stood. Lightning was closing on her, and Tempest was swinging her long — oversized — weapon at Pyrrha once again. Pyrrha reached out with Polarity, gripping the metal shaft of Tempest's staff and shifting it upwards so that it passed over her head, the beam of hard light slicing through the feet of the Maiden statue at the ankles. Pyrrha rose off her knees, still using Polarity, this time to grab Akoúo̱ send it flying into the back of the Maiden statue hard enough to send it toppling forwards, forcing Lightning Dust to scrabble backwards out of the way lest she find out how well her lightning could protect her against falling stone. The Maiden's face remained as benevolent as ever as she fell forwards to shatter on the ground into a million pieces of stone from which could never be discerned just what she had been before.

And while the statue fell, Pyrrha charged, rising up from beneath Tempest's weapon to slam her right fist into Tempest's gut. Tempest let out a winded 'oof' as she half doubled over before Pyrrha hit her in the face with her left hand. Tempest tried to roll with the punch, but not enough to stop her head from snapping round as the blow struck her with an audible smack that made her wince in pain. Pyrrha kicked her next, a spinning kick that knocked her sideways and off her feet.

Lightning Dust was on her now, a distraction from Tempest as she was already closer than Pyrrha would have liked, her punches sharper now, short jabs at waist height. Conscious that those jabs could become bolts of lightning at any moment, Pyrrha fell back once more, leaping head over heels once, twice, to open up some distance between Lightning and herself. She grasped at Miló, though she needed the help of her semblance to free it from the place it had been lodged by Lightning's attack.

Over Lightning's shoulder, she could see Bon Bon also moving to return to the fray, all clad in her armour.

The black outline that surrounded her matched that around Pyrrha's hand as she yanked Bon Bon into the air and through the cavern, over the plinth on which no statue stood no more and straight towards Lightning Dust. Despite Bon Bon's squawks of alarm, Lightning did not realise what was happening until too late, and Pyrrha slammed Bon Bon into her. As Lightning's lightning rippled up and down Bon Bon's armour, tearing at her aura, producing cries of pain from Pyrrha's classmate, Pyrrha's grip upon her slipped, disrupted by the lightning, but no matter; momentum was sufficient to carry them both into the wall, destroying one of the watching kings in the process as lightning continued to snap and tear at Bon Bon like a hunting pack.

Pyrrha charged, anticipating that Lightning would have to drop her lightning for Bon Bon's sake and give her an opening, but Tempest leapt over her two fallen comrades and hurled herself at Pyrrha once again. She had discarded her staff and assailed Pyrrha with fists and feet alone, which reduced the opportunity for interference from Pyrrha's semblance but, as Arslan had found, at the cost of a reduced reach. Pyrrha traced red-gold patterns in the air with Miló as she spun it before her, using it to block a couple of Tempest's blows — not only fast but strong too; the impacts sent vibrations down her arms — before opening up a little distance and switching from spear to rifle mode.

She fired a shot, but Tempest dodged, leaping away and rolling upright as the bullet whipped over Dove's shoulder and made him flinch.

Tempest sprang at Pyrrha from off the ground like a black panther, hands outstretched. Pyrrha sidestepped, switching Miló back into spear mode as she swept it upwards towards Tempest's midriff. Tempest twisted in mid-air, her body contorting gymnastically as Miló's point swept harmlessly by her. Tempest threw a punch at Pyrrha, but Pyrrha dodged in turn, her bending back and sideways as Tempest's fist passed by.

Tempest landed on the ground between Pyrrha and the tunnel entrance through which they had all entered this place. If she had had the Relic, then she could have tried to make a run for it, but she did not have the Relic; though she had held it before, Pyrrha couldn't see it on her now; she must have put it down when she joined the battle.

Pyrrha summoned Akoúo̱ back onto her arm — for all of a moment before she threw it at Tempest. Tempest caught the shield in one hand, stopping it dead, but Pyrrha was already charging in, Miló shifting from spear into sword mode in her hand, hoping that the shield would have distracted Tempest enough to let her get close.

It did not. Pyrrha slashed rapidly, aiming blows low and high, first a sideways slash across the midriff, then she turned in place for a more powerful stroke; she slashed at Tempest's face, at her legs. Tempest was able to keep up with her, her body twisting, blocking Pyrrha's high blows with her forearms, turning so that the blows to her legs were taken on the knees or simply did not impact so hard. She was losing aura — you couldn't take a blow on the arm or wrist and not suffer a little — but she wasn't enduring the sort of damage Pyrrha would have hoped to dish out to her; she was too quick to respond. Not quick enough to counterattack, mind — all her own blows went sailing past Pyrrha without impact — but Pyrrha wasn't able to break through her guard and start carving up her aura.

And she didn't have time to get caught in a prolonged struggle, even one in her favour, taking bits and pieces off Tempest's aura a little at a time. That was fine in a one-on-one fight, if not always particularly entertaining for the crowd, but at some point, Lightning Dust and Bon Bon would get back up, and at some point, they might even start coordinating their attacks properly, and then Pyrrha might find herself in some difficulty.

All the more so if Amber, or even Dove, decided to join the fray.

No, this was no time for a long fight; she needed to create an opening.

Akoúo̱ was lying on the ground where Tempest had dropped it. Pyrrha flipped it upright with her foot and kicked it upwards towards Tempest's face. Tempest swayed aside, even as Pyrrha had so often done, before aiming a punch straight for Pyrrha's face which Pyrrha dodged in turn.

Pyrrha slashed, once, twice at Tempest's face; Tempest blocked the strokes with her forearms; Pyrrha aimed a kick at her side, but Tempest turned on one toe and brought up her other leg so the kick only struck her knee. Then she drove Pyrrha back a step with a one-two punch.

Pyrrha switched Miló from sword into spear, gripping the weapon in both hands before she drove forward, extending the spear out another foot with a bang as she discharged the dust stored in the shaft.

Tempest caught the spearpoint in both hands, slamming her palms together to trap the metal between them.

Pyrrha let go of Miló as she charged on, head bowed, shoulder to her enemy.

There was a rumbling sound, and Tempest's opal eyes widened.

Pyrrha pressed on, heedless, shoulder-barging into Tempest and bearing her backwards, even as Pyrrha wrapped her arms around Tempest's waist. She expected some response, like the beating of fists upon her back, as she reared up, hoisting Tempest over her shoulder as she did so, but there was none. No response as she slammed Tempest down headfirst onto the ground behind her. Pyrrha turned, sash flying all around her, snatching Miló up off the ground where Tempest had dropped it.

Tempest was still looking upwards, and the rumbling above was growing louder.

Pyrrha looked up too, and it was the turn of her own eyes to widen as she saw the clouds gather above them in the cavern, dark and stormy clouds that rumbled with approaching thunder.

It would have seemed bizarre, had Pyrrha not seen this before, under the mountains, when Cinder had saved them from Merlot's grimm.

Pyrrha looked down. One of Amber's eyes blazed with fire, the corona of the Fall Maiden burning golden, and she had her hands — one of them holding her staff, the other holding the Relic of Choice — out on either side of her.

There were white flashes in the clouds as the thunder sounded louder still.

Lightning burst from the clouds in jagged spears, lancing down to strike the stone floor of the Vault. Pyrrha leapt from place to place, flashes of lightning all around her, slamming into the stone, making little craters like miniature missiles, each crack of lightning followed by a roar of thunder as though some angry beast prowled, hidden, amongst the black clouds, seeking her out and frustrated that its hunt continued. Certainly, it seemed as though the lightning was seeking Pyrrha out, though it fell like rain all across the upper half of the cavern. Out of the corner of her eye, Pyrrha was certain that she saw Bon Bon struck at least once — she wasn't moving, for whatever that was worth — she saw Lightning Dust trying to fight lightning with lightning, staving off the bolts from above with that which danced around her body; she saw Tempest scrambling across the ground like an insect to try and avoid an impact, but the bulk of the lightning was reserved for Pyrrha herself. The bolts burst around her, forcing her to keep moving lest, in stopping, she offer herself up to Amber as a simple target.

Of course, what Amber might not have realised is that Pyrrha was left with only one place to go: towards Amber herself.

If Amber was the source of this attack, and if Pyrrha could not stop for fear of this attack, then the only safety was in assailing the source of this attack, or at least getting so close that Amber dared not unleash the lightning for fear of striking herself — or Dove.

Pyrrha had Miló in hand, but Akoúo̱ was buried in the tunnel roof, and Amber's lightning would no doubt interfere with Polarity as much as Lightning's had if Pyrrha tried to retrieve it. No matter; Miló would be sufficient for this quarrel between them.

Pyrrha switched from spear to rifle mode as she danced through the lightning, spears from the sky lancing into the stone all around her striking her not, not even once. Pyrrha vaulted over the plinth of the fallen statue and snapped off a half-aimed shot. Dove took the bullet using his semblance, throwing up another shining statue to absorb the shot.

Pyrrha switched back to spear as she charged for Amber, noting the lightning die down behind her. As she had suspected, Amber wasn't willing to risk herself or Dove in the ways she was willing to chance a strike on Bon Bon, Lightning Dust, or Tempest.

Amber dropped the crown from one hand as she retreated backwards, away from Pyrrha. Dove stepped forwards, drawing his sword in a fluid motion and aiming at her as best he could with the gun within. He fired three shots, all of which Pyrrha parried away from her as she twirled her spear in front of her, tracing golden patterns through the air.

Another shining Dove appeared in front of Amber, though Pyrrha had levelled no fresh attack on her; nevertheless, it stood a still and silent guardian as Pyrrha came on.

Dove charged before she could even reach his semblance copy, never mind Amber herself. He fired another shot as he attacked, to make sure he had Pyrrha's attention, then closed the distance with a diagonal slash from shoulder to hip.

Pyrrha parried with the shaft of Miló, countering with the spearbutt, which Dove parried in turn as he retreated a pace. He countered with two swift slashes, both of which Pyrrha blocked before swiping at his feet with Miló's point. Dove leapt over the tip of the spear but failed in his attempt to put his foot on it; Pyrrha snatched it away before he could and drew back for a thrust straight at his chest. He parried, turning her thrust aside with his blade then seeking to counter with a slash just below her neck; Pyrrha recoiled, feet skidding along the stone.

She had no desire to hurt Dove, any more than she had any desire to hurt Amber; however, Amber had amply demonstrated that this was not a battle where they were going to be holding back.

Pyrrha lunged at him. A touch of Polarity turned his parry awry, and Miló slashed across his chest, scoring his aura, before Pyrrha whirled the spear in her hands and clubbed him across the side of the head so hard that he was knocked aside.

"Dove!" Amber shrieked.

A cone of fire burst from her hands, consuming the shining Dove that had been placed before her as it rushed like a river bursting from a dam straight towards Pyrrha. It was moving too fast for even Pyrrha to dodge it; it struck her in the side and bore her backwards as though she had fallen into that same burning river, and Pyrrha could feel the heat stripping away her aura as the flames flickered up and down her body before she slammed with a crunch into the cavern wall.

Pyrrha was dumped upon the ground. She looked up, leapt up; Cinder would have attacked at once, hurling herself upon Pyrrha in a fury, her eye burning. But Amber was more cautious; she hung back, her eye still burning, flames burning, too, upon the top and bottom of her wooden staff.

Slowly, Amber placed herself between Pyrrha and the crown.

"Leave Dove alone," Amber declared, her voice trembling. "Everything … everything that's happened was me; I did it. Dove never wanted any of this."

"Jaune thought as much," Pyrrha told her. "He acted for love of you."

Amber nodded. "That's right. It's all for me."

Pyrrha took a step forward. "I've no desire to hurt Dove. All he has to do is stay down and not interfere."

Amber swallowed. Her breathing sounded ragged and loud within the cave, though she had scarcely begun to fight.

She gripped her staff tightly in both hands.

Sapphire. Its name is Sapphire.

The very name a reminder of broken bonds, and of my failures.

Pyrrha charged forth, almost as much because she needed the universe of battle as a distraction from such thoughts as because she wanted to end this battle as swiftly as she could. She whirled her spear, and as she whirled it, she unleashed an aura attack — she would lose as much aura if Amber decided to unleash her magic at close range, if not more — a red vertical way tracing the spear's path even as it flew outwards towards Amber.

Another of Dove's statue-like clones took the blow, even as Dove himself staggered to his feet, heedless of Pyrrha's words.

Pyrrha gripped Akoúo̱ in the hands of her semblance — there was no more lightning to obstruct or disrupt it — and slammed it into the side of Dove's head, knocking him to the ground once more.

Amber roared in wordless anger and sprang at Pyrrha. The two clashed like plains lions, the one who rules over his domain and the ambitious outcast who has wandered into his territory. Just so did Pyrrha and Amber come together. Miló clashed with Sapphire, the metal slamming into the wood with solid thumping sounds. Flames leapt from the tip and tail of Sapphire, jumping out at Pyrrha whenever Sapphire turned that way, bursting towards her face or towards her feet. Pyrrha twisted and wriggled like an eel, feeling the heat lap over her skin at times, but never consuming her, never shrivelling her aura in the flames. Amber did not call upon any more cones of fire as she had done; she certainly did not call down lancing lightning upon herself as well as Pyrrha. She fought with the staff, mainly, or with her feet, and the flame was simply an addition to the staff, something that would hurt Pyrrha that little more if she could only land a heavy blow with it.

Pyrrha wondered if perhaps Amber was worried that, so close, the time to use her magic might leave her vulnerable, if only for a brief moment.

Pyrrha would only need a brief moment, after all.

And so, it was as a simple warrior, and not a Maiden, that she fought Pyrrha, the wooden staff clashing with the metal spear as they both beat at the other's guard like waves beating upon the shore — or like waves beating upon a great sea wall for all that either of them breached the defences of the other.

Pyrrha had not seen Amber fight, only seen her experiment with this staff in the shop where they had bought it from, and she had seemed swift then, and far from without skill. So it was; she was almost matching Pyrrha's movements, matching her speed too. She was not as strong as Pyrrha was — Pyrrha could see her blows jarring the other girl where Miló clashed with Sapphire, while Amber's blows in return didn't feel so hard on her — but she was holding Pyrrha off, and unlike Tempest, she wasn't having to use her own body to do it with. Amber would be losing no aura as she parried with Sapphire again and again.

Professor Ozpin taught you well, I see. I daresay, had you been of a different temperament, we could have put on quite a show in the arena when we visited Mistral.

Had you been of a different temperament? Had I been of a different temperament.

Had things been different.

But she wasn't breaking through either; Pyrrha was fending her off, just as Amber was fending Pyrrha off. Amber was no more able to break through, no more able to land a blow on Pyrrha, than Pyrrha was to land a blow on her.

Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed on Amber, even though she knew Dove was back on his feet again and prowling around, waiting for his moment to strike. She could and would deal with him, but she kept her eyes fixed on Amber because she was waiting for a sign that Amber was growing as impatient as Pyrrha — or hopefully even more — with this clash of spear on staff, of attack and counter; impatient enough to make a mistake.

Or perhaps she could provoke Amber into such an error.

She picked up her shield with her semblance and threw it at the back of Amber's head. Again, Dove took the blow for her with his semblance. Pyrrha rounded on Dove — or seemed to, acted as though she was; she turned, presenting her back to Amber.

Amber thrust out the palm of one hand, fire gathering there.

She was right: there was a slight delay.

Pyrrha thrust Miló into the ground, using it as a pole to spin around to kick Amber in the side with both feet and knock her flying. Amber cried out as she was tossed aside. Pyrrha followed up, wrenching Miló out of the ground and using it as the conduit for another aura attack — yes, it was an expense of aura, but she had to keep Amber off balance before she used magic at a distance Pyrrha struggled to respond to — that soared in a vertical line along the ground like a shark’s fin cutting through the water. It struck Amber as she tried to get up, lifting her up into the air, then tossing her down again as she cried out once more, louder now.

Dove came to her aid, charging towards Pyrrha from behind, sword raised and drawn back.

Pyrrha turned swiftly, turning his stroke with her semblance even as she thrust with Miló straight for him, striking him squarely on the breast.

His aura broke. A rippling white light spread across his body as Miló pierced his cuirass and drove inexorably into his chest.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. Her lips trembled as a gasp escaped them.

There was blood. Blood coming from Dove's chest, from the rent in his breastplate, blood upon Miló, staining the gold and mingling with the red.

Blood, too, coming from Dove's mouth. He stared at her, his face already seeming pale, so pale, a d— a pallor that made his eyes stand out all the more. Such blue eyes.

He looked at Pyrrha. He stared straight at her, but … but Pyrrha saw no anger in those eyes, no hatred. There was only sadness there. He looked sad. He was dying, and he looked sad.

It was … Pyrrha would have said that it was unexpected, but she hadn't really known what to expect. She hadn't expected this to happen.

Dove was dying because she had killed him. She had killed someone, and that someone was someone she had gone to school with, someone she had known slightly, someone who had been Jaune's friend, someone who had been, for a time, a part of their circle, if only on the periphery of it.

And she had killed him.

"I … I…" Pyrrha began, her words failing because what could she say, that she hadn't meant to do it? That she hadn't known how low his aura was? That she wished he had not chosen to fight? All true, but all so utterly inadequate at the same time. How could she say them to the man she had killed while he was dying?

Dove looked away from her, looked towards … towards Amber. Pyrrha turned, letting go of Miló as she turned, to see Amber staring, silent, eyes as wide or wider than Pyrrha's own and tears gathering beneath her eyes.

"Dove?" Amber took a step forward, half reaching out for him. Her voice was small, childlike. "Dove?"

Dove opened his bleeding mouth, and for a moment, it looked as though he was trying to speak. He sank to his knees, blue eyes still fixed on Amber. He stopped trying to speak, perhaps recognising that no words would come, or else that no words would suffice.

Instead, he smiled. He smiled at her, at such a time, in such a place. Why? How could he smile? What did he have to smile about?

How could die in such good spirits, all things being as they were?

He did not answer the question Pyrrha did not voice. He could not have answered them even if Pyrrha had asked. He toppled over, hands, arms, all his limbs going limp, the light vanishing from his eyes. The smile remained on his face, but with the light gone, it seemed an almost unwholesome thing, almost mocking, a false smile that cast scorn upon all who saw it, and especially on Pyrrha herself.

Pyrrha looked down at her hands, her hands as stained with blood as Amber's own. Literally stained; she could see some of Dove's blood upon the brown leather of her long gloves.

Would any water clear her of this deed?

She turned to Amber.

Tears were streaming down the Fall Maiden's face, running from both eyes, running into the maze of scars that Cinder had left upon one side of her face.

"Amber," Pyrrha said. "I'm so—"

Amber screamed, a harsh and wordless scream of rage and sadness intermingled, and as she screamed, the corona around her eye blazed larger and brighter than before, even as flames leapt from both of Amber's hands. And not just her hands; they engulfed her arms and spread all down her back too, consuming her cloak so that it seemed as though she were wearing a cloak of flames that blazed more brilliantly than ever Sunset's jacket had. Amber's cloak covered her from the shoulders down to the ground, it gathered at her feet, it swirled around her.

It filled the cavern with the crackling of flame.

Amber stared at Pyrrha with nothing but hatred in her tearful eyes now. She bared her teeth in a snarl.

Pyrrha laid her hand on Miló, beginning to retrieve it from … from Dove.

The act drew forth from Amber another shout, "DON'T TOUCH HIM!" she bellowed as she unleashed a firestorm. Flames burst from her hands sufficient to cover the whole Vault, or at least the whole cavern, as though Amber didn't care about Bon Bon or Lightning Dust or Tempest Shadow and whether she might catch any or all of them in her mass of flames. The flames covered Dove in a wave of fire, consuming his body, turning it to ashes where it lay.

And the flames struck Pyrrha; they caught her in their embrace as though she had fallen into water and was being borne by the swift currents onwards, unable to swim against their strength to reach the shore. She was lifted up into the air, borne aloft, borne backwards, and all the while, her aura withered in the flames that burned all around her. Pyrrha could feel them, on her chest, on her legs, on her arms, on her face; she was half blinded by the flames, she wanted to flinch from the heat that was all around her, she could feel her honour band heating as though it would sear the flesh of her arm beneath it, she could feel her aura protesting to every part of her body as it drained away.

Pyrrha cried out as the currents that bore her slammed her into the cavern wall.

The flames died down, and Pyrrha could see Amber flying towards her, flying as Cinder had last night, shooting flames from her hands and feet to drive herself forward.

Pyrrha had Miló in hand; she had kept hold of it when Amber's fire had lifted her up. The flames had burned the blood away so only Pyrrha could see it now.

Pyrrha kicked off the wall with all the strength in her legs, so that she collided with Amber in mid-air instead of waiting to let Amber slam into her and throw her back against the wall once again. She thrust Miló out like a fisherman skewering a fat fish for the cooking pot, but though she struck home, she did not halt Amber's onward rush. Amber herself did that as she grabbed Pyrrha, her burning arms enfolding her, burning at Pyrrha's aura as the two of them grappled in mid-air. Pyrrha switched Miló from spear into sword, slashing at Amber even as Amber's flames leapt up all round her, burning, blinding, stinging Pyrrha's eyes with their heat.

The two turned as they fell, each trying to drive the other down into the ground and bear the brunt of the impact.

Amber succeeded, slamming Pyrrha down into the earth, making a crater in the cavern floor, cracks spreading all around beneath her. Pyrrha groaned in pain, but grunted with effort too as she pushed with all her strength in arms and legs and to throw Amber off of her, hurling her back towards the inner chamber of the Vault.

Amber landed and lay on her back for a moment, and for a moment, Pyrrha hoped that her aura was broken, that her strength was at an end, that she lacked the energy to rise again.

Then Amber did rise again, rising with a sureness that she had not displayed when Pyrrha had put her on the ground before. The tears were gone from her face, but the hate in her eyes remained.

Pyrrha, too, rose; she got to her feet as swiftly as she could, though she did not feel quite so swift or so sure-footed in the rising as she had been. How much aura did she have left? She wasn't sure, but she felt — and feared — it was not much. Not enough to abuse her semblance or take a chance on flashy aura attacks, that was for certain.

She gripped Miló tightly as she switched from sword mode back to spear.

Amber's hair began to tremble, then it began to wave, her short strands of soft brown hair bouncing up and down in a wind that Pyrrha felt as it blew down the cavern into her face, pushing her own hair behind her, beating at her skin, pushing her back so that she almost had to lean forwards to resist it.

The wind tore the leaves off the bushes that surrounded the stone courtyard, tearing them from the hedges themselves and making them dance around Amber, almost hiding her from view at times. At first, Pyrrha thought that might be the point, to conceal her behind the vortex of green. Then she saw the leaves growing colder, ice beginning to spread across their tips so that they looked almost like knives.

The wind lessened for a moment as Amber brought the leaves to rest, all aiming at Pyrrha.

She loosed them, a great storm of leafy blades surging down the cavern. Pyrrha summoned Akoúo̱ — she had little choice, use of aura or not — and brought it up to cover her chest; she spun Miló before her, parrying as many of the leaves as she could, but she could not parry all of them, and Akoúo̱ could not protect her from all of them, and the frozen leaves were all around her, slicing, stabbing, and like the small pack hunters that bring down prey vastly greater than themselves, they tore her aura apart.

The red light rippled up and down Pyrrha's body as her protection was stripped away. She winced as she was cut on the thigh above the cuisses; she cried out as she was sliced on the cheek, up from the jawline; still, she tried to parry the leaves, but she was weaker now, so much weaker, so much slower.

Another leaf slashed across her shoulder. Pyrrha could feel the blood trickling down her arm.

And then the storm of leaves parted as Amber advanced upon her. The fire still blazed around her eye, but she did not burn Pyrrha in a cone of flame, she didn't send down a lightning bolt to strike her dead on the spot. She walked forward as the leaves were blown backwards away from Pyrrha and from Amber by a great gust of wind.

She said nothing as she bore down on Pyrrha.

Pyrrha said nothing either. There was nothing she could say.

She had said all she could with Miló, and it seemed that it was not enough.

Nevertheless, she drew back her spear and held Akoúo̱ before her as she thrust forwards.

Amber grabbed Miló with one hand and casually wrenched it out of Pyrrha's hands, hands that were weakened by the loss of her aura. She stared at the spear for a moment with a hatred equal to that with which she glared at Pyrrha, before she slammed the spearshaft into Pyrrha's ankle.

There was a crack, in spite of the strip of metal around her boot that was supposed to help mitigate that sort of blow; nevertheless, Pyrrha could not restrain the cry of pain that rose from her lips as her leg gave way beneath her. She fell to her knees, gasping, eyes watering with the pain that shot up from her leg, that throbbed and pulsed like some sort of inverted heartbeat that pumped pain around her body instead of life-giving blood.

Amber hit her in the face, hard enough to knock Pyrrha onto her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, Pyrrha could see that Tempest Shadow was on her feet, though she couldn't see if that was true of Lightning Dust or Bon Bon.

Tempest said nothing and did nothing, but she watched Amber and Pyrrha with hungry eyes.

The tears threatened to return to Amber's face. "I loved him," she whispered.

Pyrrha said nothing. What could she possibly have said?

Amber's lips twisted, and for a moment, she bared her teeth. "I should … I should let you live," she murmured. "I should let you live, and find Jaune, and kill him so that you will feel what I am feeling."

Now Pyrrha spoke. "No," she whispered, pleadingly, imploringly, desperately. "No, Amber, please." Not, Jaune, no. You can't. You mustn't.

"'Please'?" Amber repeated. "'Please'? You…" She let out a sound that was half-shriek, half roar as she hit Pyrrha across the face again.

"Jaune is no part of this," Pyrrha said.

"Dove was no part of this!" Amber roared.

"I… I beg you," Pyrrha whispered.

Amber stared at her, looking down on her from above like one of the old gods of Mistral, or perhaps like one of the furies about to render judgement for trespass on the ancient laws. She swallowed. "Alright," she said softly. "Alright, Pyrrha, my … my dear friend. Friend of my soul. I'll be kind to you." She swallowed. "I'll kill you, and make Jaune feel the way I'm feeling as he spends the rest of his life with a part of him missing."

A fireball flew over Pyrrha's head and slammed into Amber's chest, tossing her backwards.

Pyrrha and Tempest both looked around, Pyrrha twisting her neck as far as she could since she couldn't turn.

But she could turn her head enough to see Cinder, arm outstretched, descend from the tunnel and step into the Vault.

Cinder had been drawn back to Beacon.

She had unfinished business there, after all.

She didn't know exactly where the Vault of the Fall Maiden was, more's the pity … or was it? Was it a pity at all? If Cinder had known where the Vault was, where Ozpin was hiding the Relic, then she would have been of much more value to Salem, who would have had … not no cause, considering some of the ways in which Cinder had trampled upon Salem's patience in the days and weeks leading up to her betrayal, but certainly less cause to cast her off, to spurn her, to choose Amber and Tempest Shadow over her.

Certainly, it would no longer have been the straightforward choice for her erstwhile mistress that it had been, between a Maiden who didn't know where the Relic was — and had proved herself somewhat unreliable to boot — and a Maiden who did know and who was willing to do as she was told.

Cinder thought that Amber would be inclined to obedience, at least; although someone who could betray her friends and allies could not be accused of lacking independence of mind.

In any event, if Cinder had known where the Vault was, in the specifics, then she might not have been rejected in favour of Amber and Tempest. She might still be Salem's right hand, with no cause to get herself captured by Sunset and Pyrrha and the rest, no opportunity as it were to become a slave of Sonata, still less to kill her. No cause to … ruminate upon certain things, her conduct, herself.

No cause, perhaps, to do other than to continue as she was, or as she had been.

Was that a pity? No. No, it was not. To be sure, her experiences of late had not always been pleasant, far from it, but nevertheless … nevertheless, if Cinder had to choose…

I would not wish to know. For in the knowing, I would remain ignorant.

If she had known where the Vault was, then she would have been of use to Salem, and being of use to Salem, she would not have been betrayed, and being betrayed … being betrayed had been the best thing that had happened to her since Ashley's father died.

I am myself. Cinder Fall. Not Salem's creature, not her servant, not her tame Maiden. I am nought but Cinder Fall once more.

Whoever Cinder Fall might be.

Whoever — or whatever — Cinder Fall was or might be, she remained a creature of her passions, and as much as she might appreciate the severance of bonds between her and Salem, that didn't mean that she was inclined to thank those who had arranged it for her behind her back. They might deserve her thanks, in a manner of speaking, but she meant to give something rather different, something sharper by far.

They had given her to Sonata. Well, not exactly; it had been Sunset and Pyrrha who had done that … again, to an extent; Sonata's own agents amongst the Valish Defence Force had certainly played their part also.

A lot of people were responsible for what she had endured over the last day and night, but Cinder could hardly be bothered to care about General Blackthorn and the like, still less could she bestir herself to contemplate vengeance against him.

If she judged right, then General Blackthorn was going to be taking revenge against himself within his own head and heart for some time to come.

As for Sunset and Pyrrha…

It was Tempest that Cinder really wanted. Sweetie Drops and Lightning Dust also, but Tempest most of all. Amber, too, but … less so, by far, than those who had been Cinder's … not allies, never really that, but her confederates, her fellow servants of Salem, those whom Cinder had recruited and she who had been foisted on her by others. Perhaps she ought to have held more malice against Lightning Dust, whom she had found skulking about the outskirts of Crystal City committing armed robberies, but Tempest annoyed her more. Her smug manner, her contemptuous attitude, Cinder hated the ways in which Tempest reminded her of herself, and all the more, she hated the ways in which she was different from Cinder, casting scorn on those parts of Cinder which Cinder considered to be her better qualities: the high Mistralian warrior values, derived from The Mistraliad, which Tempest dismissed as mere flummery, antique nonsense.

To be stabbed in the back was one thing, but to be stabbed in the front by someone wearing a sneer like Tempest's was something even worse.

And Amber. Amber for whom Cinder felt almost as little malice as she did towards General Blackthorn. In the past, Cinder had regarded Amber, the Fall Maiden, rather as the wolf regards the lamb. Now, she regarded Amber with more pity than wrath.

They hadn't wanted to believe her, Sunset and Pyrrha. They hadn't wanted to believe that Amber could — or had — betrayed them. They hadn't wanted to think her capable of it. Yes, Cinder hadn't offered any proof for the simple reason that she didn't possess any, but there was more to it than that, more than just reasoned scepticism in their reactions. Sunset hadn't yelled irately into Cinder's face because she found her logic unsound. Their reactions had been more visceral, more emotional.

They hadn't wanted to believe that Amber was capable of such things as Cinder accused her of because they liked her. Because they cared about her.

And Amber had thrown all that away. Little fool. Did she have any idea just what a treasure she had cast aside?

In any case, Cinder was drawn back to Beacon because, although she didn't know exactly where the Vault of the Fall Maiden was, she knew that it was somewhere in Beacon. That was what Salem had known, before Amber's offer of service had reached her. Lionheart could tell no more than that; he only knew for certain the location of the Vault of the Spring Maiden under Haven; of Beacon, Atlas, and Shade, he was ignorant. The only people who knew where the Vault of the Fall Maiden was precisely were Ozpin himself, Glynda Goodwitch, and the Fall Maiden who alone could open the Vault and retrieve the Relic.

And so, with the battle in full swing and all the power of Atlas bent on holding back the grimm from Vale, Cinder knew that that smug and sneering Tempest would have gone with Amber and Lightning Dust and Sweetie Drops to get the Relic out of the Vault, then escape in all the confusion.

Except that when they tried to escape in all the confusion, they would find Cinder waiting for them.

She didn't know where the Vault was, but she had known enough to come to Beacon.

The journey had not been difficult for her. She may not have been one of Salem's servants any longer, but she remained sufficiently bound to her that the grimm had presented no obstacle to her passage. In fact, reaching the grimm — getting out of Vale without being stopped, and then evading the Atlesian troops — had been the harder part, but by the time that Cinder had gotten out of Vale — it was a large city, after all; she'd had to steal a child's bicycle just to reach the Red Line before daybreak — the troops defending the walls had been — or had seemed to Cinder to be — few in number, and even more reduced in spirit. They had hardly been paying attention at all, and Cinder had noted more and more of them fleeing from the walls in fear of something.

In fear, she had soon seen, of the great grimm in the sky that was busily tearing through the defending forces in the field beyond.

Something else that Salem had been keeping from her, it seemed.

In any case, with the defenders of Vale either distracted or in flight, it had been child's play for Cinder to slip over an unguarded stretch of the Vale wall and land in the Valish suburbs beyond. And after that, the great grimm with its leather wings had done Cinder good service, breaking the Atlesian and forcing a withdrawal that, for all the Atlesian efforts to maintain order had nevertheless left gaps between units, gaps which, in the dark, she had made use of to slip through undetected.

And so, she had made her way to Beacon, which had seen better days for sure. The tower, in particular. The tower was gone, destroyed, and destroyed along with it, the CCT network that bound the kingdoms together.

There was no chance of her getting on TV now.

That had been her plan, at one point; when she had planted the virus in the CCT on the night of the dance, she had been thinking not only of taking control of General Ironwood's robots but also of taking over the televisions as well. She would have been on all the channels, nobody able to switch away, only to turn off the TV completely.

Not very old-fashioned, admittedly, but fitting for her purpose; she had intended to duel Pyrrha on live television, in the arena, before the sight of the world, and show the world who the real champion was. She had told Salem that this would demoralise the people of Remnant, and perhaps it would have; certainly, it would have had some effect in Mistral, Cinder was sure. But the truth was that she had been driven less by strategy than by self-indulgence. She had wanted to do it, she had wanted to do it with an audience, and so she had contrived a reason that Salem would believe that would enable her to get away with it.

And then Pyrrha had challenged Cinder to a different sort of duel, using language that pricked Cinder's honour and ensured that, like the Mistralians in the Great War faced with Valish insolence, she could not pass the challenge by.

And thus, as you might say, had Cinder's troubles began, the stone rolling down the hill gathering such moss as had led her to this pass, if far from entirely for ill.

And now, the CCT was down. There was no television; certainly, there were no live broadcasts to the world. No one would see her, no one would hear her, and all the business of this night, well, it rather knocked the Breach into a cocked hat, did it not? If anyone recalled that there had been a first attack on Vale earlier this year, it would probably be bigots looking for something they could attack the faunus over. For everyone else, it would be quite overshadowed by the madness of this night.

They might not even remember Cinder Fall, who had played no part in this event. What was she now? Old news, insignificant, a bit player who had misleadingly seemed important only to be unceremoniously shuffled off the stage before the climax. Why should they recall her at all?

A part of Cinder — a strange, rather unnerving part — felt as though it might not be the worst thing in the world to be forgotten; another part of her was horrified and rather saddened by the thought.

All for nought. All, all for nought.

While Cinder had been contemplating where to wait for her prey to appear or reappear, whether she should assume that they had already reached the Vault and she would be intercepting them on the way back or whether she should rather presume that she had beaten them to it and look to get them as they came back to school, she had been drawn to the sound of fighting from the dormitory. It wasn't the only battle going on — Cinder could hear that Atlesian girl shooting her rifle off somewhere in the direction of the Emerald Forest — but Cinder was more interested in what might be going on around the dormitory building.

She found Ozpin lying dead on the ground in the courtyard outside; there were no visible wounds on him, but he was quite unmistakably dead all the same.

The day shall come when Mistral shall fall; the slaughter of Polites and his people.

The slaughter of Polites, in any event; there seem to be few enough of his people around.

Indeed, the only one of his people that Cinder saw was Jaune Arc, whom she found within the building — visible through a hole in the wall — buried under rubble and about to be savaged by a griffon.

Jaune Arc of all people, all on his own — or so it seemed. The others of his team might be nearby; in fact, they surely must be nearby; there was no way they would have left this hapless oaf on his own, would they?

Cinder raised her hand, and a great cone of fire burst from her palm to race through the hole in the wall and into the common room beyond. The griffon's startled shriek of pain was soon cut off as the magical fire consumed it, turning pale bone and black flesh alike to ashes.

Some of the rubble under which Jaune was buried had caught fire a little bit, smouldering gently on top of him; he didn't seem to notice; his attention was fixed on Cinder.

He looked very surprised to see her, eyes agog, mouth open; it was rather amusing.

"You?!" he cried.

Cinder stepped through the hole in the wall. She rather theatrically — might as well make the most of an audience while she had one — blew the wisps of smoke away from her hand.

"You're welcome," she said, a smirk on her face. She looked around, and still beheld no sign of anyone else. "Have you been abandoned?"

"No," Jaune said quickly. "I—" He stopped and closed his mouth as a scowl crossed his face.

Cinder knelt down beside him. "I'm not your enemy," she said.

"You could have fooled me!"

Cinder rolled her eyes. "Obviously, I was your enemy, but I did just save your life mere moments ago, so you might give me just a little consideration."

Jaune looked at her but didn't immediately respond. When he did respond, it was to ask, "What are you doing here?"

"For the same reasons I'd guess you are," Cinder replied. "You're here because Pyrrha and Sunset have accepted that I was telling the truth about Amber, and she's gone to get the Relic, and you've come to stop her. I'm guessing that she killed the old man outside along the way." She smiled. "I've come to stop her, too."

"And take the Relic to Salem yourself?"

"By my heel, I care not for Salem or the Relic," Cinder declared. "But there are some people around here who took me lightly, and I mean to show them that was a mistake."

Jaune kept on looking at her. He looked into her eyes; he stared right into them as though he could divine the heart of her mystery. Cinder thought — hoped — that he could not; it would be a terrible thing to be understood by the likes of Jaune Arc.

She stared into his eyes in turn, trying to fathom what was so attractive about them — and about him.

It was a struggle, to say the least. Yes, they were very blue eyes, but blue was not her favourite colour.

For a moment, she thought that he would hold his silence, that the memory of her misdeeds would grab his tongue and hold it fast, but then he spoke. His voice was quick and desperate as he said, "Pyrrha's down there all alone. Alone with them."

Cinder cocked her head to one side a little. "In the Vault? With Amber and the others?"

Jaune nodded. "Pyrrha told me to call for help and then catch up with her, but I got jumped, and … can you help her?"

His voice trembled, not with fear of Cinder but fear for Pyrrha. Cinder guessed that he had been afraid before she arrived, and that her presence was providing him with a release for it. She surmised — she assumed, because it made little sense otherwise — that he and Pyrrha had arrived with more companions, but that they had had to leave them behind to stave off or draw off the grimm to get this far. Until only Jaune and Pyrrha remained, and Pyrrha had bid Jaune delay, perhaps because she didn't want him involved in the battle.

More likely because they really did need the help, or feared they might.

Either way, Jaune himself had fallen behind, and Pyrrha had been left alone.

Ten thousand fates of death surround us, which no man may escape or avoid.

Cinder opened her mouth to say something mildly mocking — "You didn't call, but help has come regardless. Lucky you." — but she did not say it because … because his earnestness, in this instance, defied mockery. He was afraid for her, and in his fear, he was willing to extend his trust to a villain like Cinder.

It was too sweet for mockery.

What a lucky girl you are, Pyrrha.

"I can," she said, in a solemn tone. "I will. Have I not kept faith with you, in our past dealings? Did I not hold to our alliance when last we joined forces?" For all you gave me cause to do otherwise. "Now, where are they, where is the Vault?"

Cinder?

Pyrrha stared at her, unable to wrench her eyes away as Cinder descended the staircase. One palm was out, the palm that she had just used to hit Amber with that fireball. In her other hand, she held her glass bow. The black obsidian glistened in the light of the glowing moss that illuminated the vault.

Cinder is here? But how? How could she know where this place was? She didn't know! And… Pyrrha's thoughts trailed off, replaced with a hundred horrible imaginings of what Cinder might have done to Jaune before she got here, explaining how she was here and he was not.

No. Please, no. Let her have broken his aura and no more than that. Let him live. Let him feel no pain but a passing heartbreak.

Cinder's smouldering amber eyes swept across the chamber, taking in Tempest Shadow and Lightning Dust — who had began to scramble onto all fours as blood dripped out of her mouth — Bon Bon where she lay upon the ground; Amber, of course; and Pyrrha herself, who thought that she saw Cinder's lips tug into the slightest smirk as their gazes met.

Tempest took a step backwards. "Cinder," she said softly. "What a surprise."

"Indeed," Cinder murmured. "You did not think to see me back, did you?"

Tempest might have replied, or she might not, but at that moment, Amber regained her feet and growled, "You!" The fire surrounded her eyes yet, and the flames rose up around her as they had before, cloaking her, enveloping her. "This is all your fault! You ruined everything!"

Cinder looked at her. "I have ruined much," Cinder conceded. "But some, you have ruined yourself."

Amber snarled wordlessly. "I'll kill you both!" she shrieked, gesturing first at Pyrrha and then at Cinder herself. "Her for Dove … and you for me."

Cinder said nothing, but though the fire burned around her eye, she did not use the Maidens' magic; rather, she nocked an arrow to her obsidian bow and braced herself.

Neither Tempest nor Lightning Dust moved.

Instead, it was Amber that attacked, flying forwards as she had done before, and as Cinder had done before, propelling herself by the fire from her hands and feet, her flaming cloak trailing behind her even as it continued to swathe her all around.

Cinder buckled her legs and leapt forward, keeping her grip on her bow, using only the fire from her feet to drive her on, yet flying through the air all the same. As she flew, Cinder fired, glass arrows flying from her black bow to cross the shortening distance between Amber and herself. With the flames surrounding Amber as they did, it was impossible to see if the shafts were striking home or not; if they did strike, then they didn't hinder Amber's forward flight one bit.

The two collided, and it seemed to Pyrrha as if Amber's flames, which she thought would have engulfed Cinder, instead made way for her, parting to let her pass like a fortress gate opening for travellers.

Her semblance. She's manipulating the air currents to redirect the flames.

Thus empowered, Cinder passed through the fire in which Amber armoured herself and bodily slammed into her, driving her backwards through the air as Cinder grappled with her. Amber's eyes widened, the rage within them replaced by a touch of panic, as her flames seemed to slide off Cinder's body even as other fires sprouted from the palms of Cinder's hands as she grasped at Amber. Amber tried to push Cinder off her, but Cinder's grip seemed iron for now as her burning feet drove Amber across the chamber and slammed her into a carved king, destroying the stone image on the wall.

Pyrrha caught Tempest looking at her, without aura as she was, helpless as she was, but then Tempest's eyes turned to the Relic of Choice, the golden crown which lay upon the ground, the object of their struggle and yet lying there for the moment, unremarked, unnoticed.

Unclaimed.

Tempest ran towards it. Pyrrha tried to get up, but the moment she put any weight on it at all, her ankle screamed in such pain that it was all Pyrrha could do not to scream herself as she collapsed to her knees again.

"Cinder!" she cried.

Cinder looked her way, a moment of distraction that allowed Amber to pry her off, kicking Cinder across the chamber with both feet so that it was Cinder who slammed into the opposite wall.

Tempest reached the Relic, bending down to scoop it up and skidding a little upon the stone floor as she turned away. She swiftly began to race back up the way that she had come.

"Cinder," Pyrrha shouted again. "You have to stop her!"

Don't worry about me, leave me to Amber, you can't let them get the Relic.

Cinder hesitated for a moment, then another half a moment longer as Tempest sprinted down the cavern towards the stairs that would lead her out of the Vault.

"Cinder!" Pyrrha urged.

Cinder nocked an arrow to her glass bow and aimed it at Tempest's retreating back.

Amber stepped forward, hand raised in Pyrrha's direction.

Cinder switched her target, loosing her arrow on Amber instead of Tempest. Amber flicked the arrow aside, shattering the glass into fragments — fragments that began to dance around Amber, nipping and nicking at her aura as Amber winced, flicking her hands and arms all around like someone trying to stave off an annoying bee or wasp that buzzed around them.

Cinder loosed more arrows, aiming not at Amber but for the ground at her feet. Amber was not so distracted by the shards of glass that she didn't notice this, or guess what it portended; she began to run, darting back down the Vault towards the courtyard of stone and the dead tree, running ahead of Cinder's arrows even as they thudded into the ground where she had been standing, even as she was pursued by the shards of glass that nibbled incessantly at her remaining aura.

Cinder loosed an arrow ahead of Amber, slamming into the floor ahead of her progress. Amber skidded to a halt as the buried shaft began to glow, bright orange waves pulsing out from it; the nearest arrow behind her began to glow also. Amber leapt aside, not quite fast enough to avoid the explosion, swift enough to avoid the whole of it; the blast lifted her up and tossed her towards Cinder, but she rolled to her feet and charged at her adversary, heedless, fearless.

She isn't afraid anymore, Pyrrha thought as she watched Amber hurl herself upon the figure of her nightmares. Because she has nothing to lose.

Cinder had not been trained in arms; Pyrrha had seen that for herself in their own duel. She was naturally gifted, but her technique was sloppy and lacked finesse, and she was fortunate that most of her opponents were not physically capable of taking advantage of that. Amber, by contrast, had been excellently trained, and Pyrrha thought — worried; worried about Cinder, worried that Amber would defeat her, was that not absurd? — that Amber's superior technique would sweep Cinder's defences aside. But Amber's technique had sloughed off her, so it seemed, and all that was left was fury as she hurled herself against Cinder like a storm, fists flying, legs lashing out.

Cinder met her with twin scimitars and with flames burning brightly upon the black glass, hacking and slicing at Amber and her aura. Amber's blows struck home; she struck Cinder on the shoulder, in the face, on the thigh with her armoured knee, but Cinder rolled with the blows, converting them into spinning counters, or else seeming to bear the blows without flinching as she attacked on her own account. Amber's defences were nonexistent: she didn't try to block, to bat Cinder's blows aside; rather, she endured them as though they were the price she would gladly pay for the opportunity to strike at Cinder, to hurt her, to pay her back for all that she had done.

And then her aura broke, the golden outline rippling over her as Amber staggered backwards. The fire of the Maiden's magic, not tied to aura, continued to burn around her eye, even as Amber's posture became hunched, even as her legs began to tremble.

"That's enough," Pyrrha murmured, and could not have said whether she was speaking to Amber or Cinder as she said it.

Amber glared at her. Flames flickered at her fingertips. Amber turned towards her, hand rising.

A glass arrow slammed into her side. Amber gasped, her breath escaping her as she staggered sideways. She looked at Cinder.

Cinder stared back at her, eyes cold and unfeeling.

Amber fell down onto her knees, as Pyrrha had fallen, clutching at her side as blood stained the brown leather of her cuirass. Her chest rose and fell, and Pyrrha could hear her breathing, or fancied that she could.

Amber toppled onto her side; she looked at Pyrrha for a moment and then turned away, rolling over so that she was on her back, looking up at the stone ceiling of the cavern above.

"Dove," she whispered. "I … I'm…"

She never finished. Whatever last words she had intended — I'm sorry? I'm coming? Something else altogether? — they would go unsaid, for Amber had breathed her last. The light was out of her eyes, and as Pyrrha watched, she saw a yellow light— no, not yellow but gold, golden like fall leaves; ribbons of golden light rose from her vacant eyes, out of her mouth, out of her chest, and wafted through the air towards Cinder.

Cinder's own eyes widened as the golden light touched them, passed into her mouth, moved through her chest as though she, too, had been stripped of aura. For a moment, Cinder was still, as more golden light danced around her, flying in circles like the glass shards with which she had assailed Amber. For a moment, the flaming corona burned around both Cinder's eyes.

Then the light faded, and Cinder gasped for breath as she staggered a step forwards.

She was the Fall Maiden in truth now, the only Fall Maiden. All the powers were once more united in her person, as it had ever been 'til she had sundered them.

Cinder looked at her, and Pyrrha became aware that Amber might not be the only one in need of last words soon.

Cinder advanced upon her, her black bow at her side. She looked around the cavern, prompting Pyrrha to do the same. Tempest Shadow and Lightning Dust were gone, fled, and they had taken the Relic of Choice with them.

It was all for nothing. Salem has won.

Bon Bon still lay upon the ground, which by now must surely mean that she was dead too, along with Amber and Dove. It must have been Amber's lightning that struck the fatal blow.

Would she have cared, if she had known?

Perhaps she did know, and didn't care.

"It seems that we are all alone down here," Cinder observed.

Pyrrha swallowed. "So it would appear," she replied, in what she hoped was a calm tone.

She would not beg. Cinder would not hear her beg.

Cinder stared down at her. Pyrrha could not help but keep flickering her gaze towards the bow in Cinder's hand. "Your face looks awful; so does much of the rest of you besides."

Pyrrha didn't reply to that, though she had no doubt it was true. Of the main pains that wracked her body, second only to the immense throbbing hurt of her ankle was that of her face; she didn't dare touch it to be sure, but she could feel her cheek swelling up where Amber had struck her. Certainly, her left eye was closing up, there was no doubt about that; she could see less well out of it than on the right, Cinder was less visible to her on the one side, and when she tried to widen her eye, she was balked, and painfully so at that. It felt like pushing against a door when your foot was jammed in the doorway — only worse.

Cinder … Cinder smiled. And it was a smile, not a smirk, not a smug expression of knowing something that Pyrrha didn't; it certainly was no look of triumph. There was something almost nervous about it, timorous, as though she were testing the waters that she feared might conceal monsters within.

She smiled, and she held out her hand to Pyrrha. "Come," she said. "Let's get you out of here; this is no place to linger."

Pyrrha stared up at her. Her eyes would no doubt have widened if she'd been capable of it, but as it was, she could only stare with one normal eye and one half-closed from the swelling of her face. But she stared regardless.

"You … you…"

The smile remained on Cinder's face. "This cannot be so unexpected to you. I did just save your life, after all."

"I thought you did that for the Maiden's magic," Pyrrha said.

Cinder let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, well … what would I do with that now? What shall I do now, having got it? It is … you know, I used to hate you."

"I'd never have guessed," Pyrrha murmured dryly.

"For all that you had," Cinder went on, as though Pyrrha hadn't spoken. "For all that you were. For all that you had and were and didn't seem to appreciate. You took it all for granted, and that … I couldn't abide that; it was detestable. But there are things … the things that really matter, things that I didn't understand before, and those things … those things, you understand very well, I think, and appreciate."

"Not as much as I might have liked to think," Pyrrha admitted.

"No?" asked Cinder.

"No," Pyrrha said, without offering any more than that.

Cinder shrugged. "Well," she said. "I'm sure that whatever it is you did, whoever it is you did it to will forgive you. After all, though you may not be as loving as you might or ought to be, you are still beloved. Jaune is waiting for you up above. Unless he hasn't managed to dig himself out of that rubble yet; he might still be trapped up there."

"He's alive?" Pyrrha gasped.

"Of course he's alive," Cinder replied. "Why wouldn't he be? Do you think I would kill him, then come down here and save your life? Why? To pain you? Am I so monstrous in your eyes? Don't answer that. Just take my hand and let me bring you up to him. There … there is nothing worse than outliving the one you love. I would spare him that, especially so young."

Pyrrha gently, tentatively, reached out and placed her hand in Cinder's palm.

Cinder's smile returned as her fingers closed around Pyrrha's hand. She pulled Pyrrha up, draping Pyrrha's right arm across her shoulder like a feather boa and taking the bulk of Pyrrha's weight as she helped Pyrrha up onto her good foot. Cinder wrapped one hand around Pyrrha's waist, pulling her close as she began to walk slowly towards the tunnel and the steps leading out of here. Pyrrha limped along beside her, leaning heavily upon Cinder, grateful that her … her rescuer had aura; otherwise, she might have struggled.

"So … Jaune told you where this place was?" Pyrrha asked.

Cinder nodded. "He was very anxious about you, down here all alone. With good reason, it must be said."

"Yes, well … I'd rather you'd gone after the Relic."

Cinder glanced at her. "If I'd done that, Amber would have killed you."

"I know," Pyrrha conceded. "But Salem would not have the Relic. It's on its way to her even now, isn't it? Unless Jaune can stop them."

"Let's not put any weight on that," Cinder muttered.

"He's stronger than you think," Pyrrha replied, although in truth, she didn't want Jaune to encounter Tempest and Lightning Dust together when he was all alone. She had withstood them, but Jaune might not be so fortunate. "But you should have—"

"Left you to die?" Cinder asked. "I'm beginning to think you didn't deserve to have me save your life; you clearly have no appreciation for it whatsoever. Do you have any idea what it would have done to Jaune if you had perished down here? At best, he'd have spent years, his entire life, broken-hearted, mourning for you, grieving for all that you might have had together if things had been different." A sigh escaped her. "At worst, he would have married some ghastly harridan not fit to kiss your feet, who would have made him so miserable that he dropped dead a few years later from the sheer awfulness of it all." She shook her head. "I didn't come here to save the Relic of Choice, I didn't come here to stop Salem, I … I came here to be revenged upon my enemies, principally Tempest Shadow—"

"Then why—?"

"Because there are people who would rather have you alive to take into their arms than have a crown of cold gold and ancient magic in their possession," said Cinder. "And those people are very wise, if you ask me."

Pyrrha did not reply for a moment. Then she said, "Thank you, for saving my life."

Cinder chuckled. "My lady's gracious gratitude is most humbly accepted; it is more than a humble fellow such as myself could dare hope to receive from a princess. I only regret that the many confidential circumstances surrounding this place, its contents and all around it will prevent my deed from being properly recorded and taking their proper part in your legend. How I rescued you most gallantly—"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

A touch of smugness returned to Cinder's face. "However could you tell?" Her smile faltered. "I have had little enough to take joy in these past … for some time now, Pyrrha Nikos, Princess Without a Crown. You must allow me to savour this moment."

Pyrrha supposed that Cinder was owed that much, at least, in spite of everything. She managed a slight smile of her own, slight being all that she could manage before her face started to ache. "You're right, of course. Please, go on."

"No, I don't think I will," Cinder replied. "You've ruined it now."

She helped Pyrrha up the stone steps; getting up them with only one good ankle was a little difficult, but with Cinder's assistance — and at times, it felt almost as though Cinder was carrying her — she, they, made it up the steps and out past the waterfall so that they were once more standing upon the ledge, looking out across Vale.

There were some dark patches amidst the city, with no lights shining, but even as Pyrrha watched, one of those dark patches disappeared, lights flickering on across the streets. Then another disappeared too, the darkness growing smaller by the moment.

Admittedly, they were very far away, but there was no sign of grimm in the streets, nor even at the wall, for all that the wall itself looked to have been broken in one place. Nevertheless, Vale seemed to be still standing.

It's as well that someone succeeded, at least.

"Hold on," Cinder said, and she clasped Pyrrha even tighter to her waist as the fire burned at the soles of her feet to lift them both up over the waterfall and deposit them upon the clifftop.

"Pyrrha!"

The voice was Jaune's; he wasn't there, waiting for them, but he was running towards them, running from the courtyard and the dormitory building, running as fast as he could, Crocea Mors flapping at his hip, banging into his leg as he ran.

He's fine. It's as Cinder said. Pyrrha hadn't realised that there was a part of her which hadn't quite trusted Cinder, hadn't quite believed her, until that part of her was proven wrong. Now, as Jaune drew near, Pyrrha stepped away from Cinder and towards him — only for the pain that shot up her ankle to remind her why that was a bad idea as she toppled ungracefully forwards.

Jaune caught her before she could fall, taking her in his arms. "Pyrrha!" he cried, pulling her towards him. His hands felt strong upon her, stronger than usual, firmer; Pyrrha half-wondered if that was because her aura was broken or if concern made him less gentle. "Are you okay?" He winced as soon as he said, as if aware that the answer was obvious.

"No," Pyrrha admitted, because there was little point denying it when she had just almost fallen and was having to lean on him for support, one hand upon his shoulder to steady herself as she balanced on one leg. "No, not entirely." She reached up and put one hand on his face, stroking his cheek, brushing at it with her knuckles. "But I'm alive, and I'm here with you."

"Yes," Jaune said, relief making his voice ragged. "Yeah, you are." He reached for her face in turn, pressing his gloved palm against her swollen cheek.

Pyrrha winced somewhat loudly.

Jaune yanked his hand away. "Ah! Sorry."

"It's fine," Pyrrha assured him.

"You didn't sound fine," Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha shifted her hands, resting her right hand upon his shoulder to support herself, while with her left hand, she took his hand and — gently — brushed it lightly against her injured cheek. Light as his touch was, unable to press firmer though she was, though it was the lightest contact between hand and cheek, nevertheless, it brought to her face as much smile as her swollen face could manage.

"What happened down there?" Jaune asked. "You look…"

"Terrible?" Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune didn't agree or disagree. "What happened?"

Pyrrha looked away from him. "Can we talk about it later? Soon, very soon, but … not right now. I … not right now."

"Of course," Jaune said. "When you're ready." He leaned forwards, resting his head against her forehead, closing his eyes.

Pyrrha closed her eyes in turn, and then opened them again because no sooner had she closed her eyes than she saw Dove's face, his bloody cuirass, his chest impaled by Miló.

She had left Miló and Akoúo̱ down in the Vault, Pyrrha realised; she would have to go back for them. And for Amber's body.

But for now, she opened her eyes because she didn't want to see Dove's final moments, or Amber's. She wanted to see Jaune, though his expression be pained.

"I'm sorry for going on without you," she said. "I should have waited."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't catch up," Jaune replied.

"You sent help," Pyrrha told him. "You told Cinder where to go, and I … I wouldn't have made it out without her. In a way … you saved me."

"I did not agree to share credit," Cinder declared.

Both Pyrrha and Jaune looked at her. She was watching them; perhaps she had been watching them since Pyrrha had almost fallen over; there was no indication that she had ever been looking anywhere else.

Her mouth was turned downwards, and there was, or at least there seemed to be, a sadness in her eyes as she looked at them.

"Thank you," Jaune said. "I won't—"

Cinder waved her hand as though she were discouraging a fly. "I don't want your gratitude," she said softly.

"Then what do you want?" asked Pyrrha.

Cinder blinked but didn't answer. She didn't say anything at all.

Pyrrha began to hear a rumbling sound approaching, a sound that, as it drew closer, became more and more recognisably a motorcycle, Sunset's motorcycle, heading their way.

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: After a long time with no illustrations we have three of them in one chapter, because I really liked this whole scene (I liked it in the original too, which is why it's preserved here) with Pyrrha and Cinder (and Jaune). The three pictures are be different artists, the first one (which I had done years ago, it's been waiting for ages) by Mikururun, the second by one of my favourite RWBY artists McMystery, and the third by the very talented Nimbus Daydream whom I only came across quite recently.

In terms of the content of the chapter, this is another one where all the individual words are new but a lot of the course of events is preserved: Pyrrha kills Dove, Cinder kills Amber, Tempest escapes with the relic, Cinder carries the injured Pyrrha out of the vault, all those plot beats are still present. As I said, I really like the scene between Cinder and Pyrrha, and it was fun to play more with Cinder's smugness at having saved Pyrrha's life, but also her sadness at the end when Arkos are having their moment and Cinder becomes acutely conscious of the fact that she doesn't have anyone who loves her that way.

Another bit I really liked in this chapter is that Cinder has the chance to take her revenge on Tempest and stop her getting away with the relic and she lets it go, in fact she lets them both slip away, in order to save Pyrrha, it's a moment that shows she isn't entirely, or even mainly, self-interested at this point, as well as being a commonality between her and Sunset.

That moment where Amber just rips into Pyrrha with the whole 'I was going to tell you' thing was a surprising amount of fun to write. I love Pyrrha but the whole 'I'm sure you'll cry very pretty tears for me' thing is a line I really like and one which, I have to admit, Pyrrha rather deserved.

I know that not everyone will be wild about the fact that the caskets are still here but a) I needed something to delay Amber and co long enough for Pyrrha to get down there and b) they've been reworked so that they are more, or even more, explicitly fairytale like in terms of how they work/what the correct answer is and why. I think it's an improvement.

Journey's End (New)

Journey’s End

There was an airship crashed on the road to Beacon; an Atlesian Skyray, its white, metallic body half-buried in the earth.

Sunset skidded her motorbike to a halt, wondering when the airship had come down, whether it was the same airship that everyone had flown — tried to fly — to Beacon in, whether any of them had actually made it up to Beacon or she would find them all hidden just out of sight on the other side of this airship.

Whether she would find them at all.

There were no grimm here now, but Sunset had seen the grimm retreating as she came up the road; they had been running from the school, falling back just like the grimm were falling back from Vale, running eastwards towards the mountains, pursued by the Atlesian airships.

They must have been here, even if they were on the run now.

What had they done to her friends while they were here?

As Sunset came to a stop, she could see that at least a few people had not made it up to Beacon.

Rainbow Dash was sat on the ground, leaning back against the half-buried remains of the Skyray, with Blake kneeling beside her and Sun hovering awkwardly nearby.

Rainbow’s shotgun was lying by her side, and there was a medical kit, a blue plastic box with the knotted cross in white upon it, sitting next to Blake. It was open.

Sunset got off her motorcycle, pulling off her helmet as she walked quickly, almost running over to Rainbow and Blake — and Sun, she supposed, although she barely paid him any attention at all.

He wasn’t the one who looked hurt, or the one who was tending to the one who was hurt.

“What…?” Sunset paused for a moment, swallowing. She could see that Blake had taken off — or Rainbow had been able to do it for herself — her wings, her jacket, and her t-shirt; it was only Rainbow’s bra that was preserving any sense of modesty now. That had all been necessary because Blake was wrapping bandages around Rainbow’s midriff. “What happened?”

Rainbow glanced at her. “Oh, look who decided to show up. About time.”

Sunset’s mouth opened wordlessly for a second. “A— are you dying?”

Blake looked up at her, silently.

“What?” Rainbow asked.

“You heard me,” Sunset said. “Are you dying?”

“No!” Rainbow cried. “No, I’m not dying—”

“Then bite your tongue, you cheeky…” Sunset began, putting her hands on her hips. “Just because I haven’t been where you can see me, I’ve saved Vale, I’ll have you know.”

“Really?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“Yes, really!” Sunset declared. She paused for a second. “I helped, anyway. I was right at Councillor Emerald’s side when he…”

She was forced to hesitate while she pondered how to phrase what she had done down in the headquarters while at the same time maintaining Councillor Emerald’s cover story. Then she wondered if she actually needed to maintain Councillor Emerald’s cover story in front of Rainbow Dash and Blake.

No, but there is Sun to consider. “I was right at Councillor Emerald’s side when he faced down the military and saved the city. Now, he was the real hero, I won’t deny that, he was incredibly brave throughout the whole thing, but he would never have made it without me by his side.”

“Congratulations, I guess,” Blake said softly.

“For what?” Sunset asked.

Blake’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She remained quiet for a second or two, before she said, “I … I’m not quite sure. It just seemed as though what you said required, or at least invited, some kind of response. Congratulations on … doing something?”

“Doing something early on in the night,” Rainbow said. “What have you been doing the rest of the time?”

“I—” Sunset began, before she saw the grin on Rainbow’s face, the glint in her eye that said she was pulling on Sunset’s tail.

“You’re lucky you’re hurt,” Sunset muttered. “I’ll chalk this up to the pain making you act out.” She frowned. “What happened?”

“She took a hit for me,” Sun muttered, tapping the side of the airship. “Right across the gut.”

“It was just a little scratch,” Rainbow insisted. “Don’t make it sound like I had my insides spilling out.”

“You might have, if the grimm hadn’t decided to retreat when they did,” Blake pointed out. She looked at Sunset. “Since you’re here, and with the airships that we’ve seen flying by, is this something more than just a temporary retreat by the grimm?”

“It looks like it,” Sunset told them. “What happened to the others? I know that you flew up here with Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny—”

“Did Ruby tell you that?” asked Blake.

Sunset nodded. “That’s right.”

“What … else did she tell you?” asked Blake, caution making her words creep slowly out of her mouth.

“Everything, I think,” Sunset answered. “That … Professor Ozpin was dead, that Amber was trying to get to the Relic, that Yang … had perished.”

“She’s not the only one,” Rainbow murmured. “But yeah, sounds like Ruby did tell you everything.”

“That’s more than you two told me,” Sun muttered.

“I took a hit for you; I could have been seriously wounded,” Rainbow reminded him. “What more do you want?”

“To know why you did it?” Sun asked.

“You know why I did it; you don’t need to ask me that,” Rainbow said sharply.

Blake looked at her.

“What are you looking at me like that for, Blake? Of course it was for you,” Rainbow said softly, shifting her shoulders a little as though she were trying to get comfortable against the Skyray wreck. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Blake hesitated. “I … don’t really know what to say.”

“Neither do I,” Sun admitted.

Rainbow snorted. “Wishing that you hadn’t asked?”

“Not really, I just … that’s kind of Scarlet levels of brutal ho— oh, oh, okay, I get why you named one of your guns that now.”

“I’m not gonna pretend you’re one of my best friends,” Rainbow said. “I don’t hate you or anything, but … you know.” She closed her eyes for a second. “Anyway, Sunset, you’re right. We got the call, General Ironwood ordered us to pick up Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Ruby, and take them to Beacon to stop Amber. Only Ruby didn’t want to go, so we left her behind and flew off with Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny. The dragon brought our airship down before we got there — right here, obviously — only it didn’t bother to finish us off, lucky us.”

“It was more interested in destroying the tower,” Blake said. “The CCT down. What’s going to happen now?”

“I’m more interested in what happened already,” Sunset said. “Go on, the dragon brought down your airship, then what?”

"We don't know what happened then," Rainbow said. "The airship crashed; Ciel, Penny, all the rest headed up to Beacon; Blake and I — and Sun — stayed here to hold off the grimm so that they could keep moving." She let out a slight grunt or soft groan of pain, one hand moving towards her bandaged stomach.

"I see," Sunset said quietly. "Well, I'm glad that you're not too badly hurt, and that you're not hurt at all. Either of you," she added quickly. "After the battle ended, I came up here to see that you were all okay, but since the three of you seem to have everything in hand, I'll—"

"Wait," Blake said. "Just, quickly, before you go. I know you must be anxious to make sure that the others made it through, but what happened in Vale? Why are the grimm retreating?"

"Did you see the dragon go down, or were you too busy fending off the grimm right in front of you?" asked Sunset.

"The second one," Rainbow grunted. "Someone took the dragon down? How?"

"Ruby took it down," Sunset said. "She shot it in its weak point."

Rainbow blinked. "It had a weak point this whole time?"

"Yes," Sunset answered. "But it was hidden behind some armour so you couldn't see it."

"Then how did Ruby spot it?" asked Sun.

"I guessed where it might be, then Ruby cut the armour off, and that was where it was," Sunset explained. "Then she shot it, like I said. And that's when the grimm started to retreat."

"Huh," Rainbow said. "That's … you'd better get up there, quick, make sure that they don't need any help."

Blake looked at her. "You sound worried."

"I'm … this was all for Amber, right?" Rainbow asked. "All of this was to provide cover so that Amber could get the Relic and…" — she glanced at Sun — "take it away from here."

"I still don't understand how that works," Sun said, in as pointed a tone as Sun was probably capable of managing.

"Even with the dragon dead, why would the grimm retreat like that?" asked Rainbow. "They still had numbers, and they'd already broken through the Green Line—"

"And the gate," Sunset murmured, as an icy feeling began to grow inside her stomach, cold fingers reaching out from within her to grasp at her insides.

"The grimm got into Vale?" demanded Blake. "You never mentioned that!"

"Because they didn't," Sunset said. "The dragon destroyed the Freedom Gate, but the rest of the grimm were still behind, held back in the suburbs, before the grimm began to fall back."

"But why would they do that?" asked Rainbow. "Why not keep pressing the attack? Dragon or no they still had the numbers on their side, so why not keep fighting?"

"Unless they already had what they came here for," Sunset whispered. She took a step back. There was no proof, only Rainbow's conjecture, but it was a plausible conjecture nonetheless, terrifyingly so.

She could feel the icy fingers gripping tighter, all the joy at the victory in Vale turning to ashes in her mouth.

"Go," Rainbow said.

Sunset scarcely needed to be told. She rammed her helmet onto her head so hard that it hurt her equine ears as they were suddenly squashed down into her hair. She leapt back onto her motorcycle, the engine roaring to life once again at a touch from her.

She accelerated, her bike leaping forward as she guided it around Blake and Rainbow and the wreck of their crashed Skyray, the tires of her vehicle kicking up dirt as she diverted off the road onto the grass verge on either side. She left skidmarks in the mud behind her before she regained the road, holding down the accelerator to send her bike moving forward faster and faster.

The chance that she would be in time to do anything, to achieve anything, help anyone was small, minimal, miniscule one might even say; but small though it might be, she had to take it. And even if there was no chance at all, even if it was all over and already too late … she had to know.

As she roared up the road, Sunset's eyes were drawn upwards to the broken tower; it still loomed over the school — it hadn't been so completely destroyed as to do otherwise — but it did not loom nearly so large as it had done when the Emerald Tower was whole and proud and tall, and when the lights burned brightly in the night sky. Now, it loomed as a reminder of all that had been done.

All that had been lost.

Don't think about loss, not now, not yet.

Why not? I know that Professor Ozpin is dead, at least. And Yang too.

But Professor Ozpin would not want to be joined by a bodyguard in the land of the dead, and so I will not think about that until I must.

Speak only good things, Pyrrha had urged last night, when they had taken Cinder captive; it was a little late for that, and this night had seen too many bad things not to speak of them, but for now, as Sunset's motorcycle roared as it bore her on up the road, she could perhaps avoid thinking about the worst things when they had not come to pass.

When, at least, she did not know that they had come to pass.

Sunset drove her bike up the road, past the dark, silent and unlit Benni Haven's — dark and quiet, but structurally intact as far as Sunset could tell from a brief glance, which she took to be a good sign — and through the gates into the school grounds. She turned westwards, towards the Valish side of the grounds, towards the Vault that Amber had shown them — a decision she might have regretted since.

A decision of hers that Sunset might regret if the battle had gone ill for her friends.

Technically, she wasn't supposed to drive her motorcycle across the school grounds like this — only to and from the garage, not across the campus towards the Valish cliffside — but she thought that, if he had been here still, Professor Ozpin would have forgiven her in the circumstances.

But he wasn't here.

In the circumstances, that just meant that she could get away with it.

She didn't see any sign of anyone, not until she reached the courtyard; or perhaps there had been signs of someone, but Sunset had just missed them, in haste as she was, and with her vision and her ability to hear both somewhat restricted by her helmet. When she reached the courtyard, it was not a sign of life that she saw, but a sign of death.

Professor Ozpin's body lay in the courtyard, beneath the … beneath where the statue had stood. The statue itself was pretty much gone, huntsman and huntress and plinth all destroyed so thoroughly that Sunset could only imagine some great battle had been fought here at some point tonight; perhaps the same battle that had torn these holes in the dorm room wall.

Sunset slowed her bike to a stop. Professor Ozpin did not look as though he had fallen in a great battle. There were no wounds on his body, no tears on his chest, no blood on him. He looked as though he had fallen asleep, never to wake up again.

Better that than he should look ripped apart, torn to shreds by the ravenous teeth of grimm, pierced by wounds, burned by fire. But better still by far had he been alive.

Sunset got off her bike, taking off her helmet and resting it lightly upon the motorcycle handlebars. As she approached Professor Ozpin, his eyes closed never to open again, she momentarily sloughed off Sol Invictus and Soteria and began to take off her jacket.

Her eyes were fixed upon his slumbering-seeming face, his peaceful face, his serene face. In the catacombs under Canterlot, so ancient that they had been forgotten by all but scholars and antiquarians, were the tombs of the old unicorn kings and queens from before Celestia had taken up the rule of Ponykind. They lay in state, down in the darkness under the mountain, surrounded by glittering gems dug from the mountain caverns, their bodies preserved by complex spells so that they would not decay, would not suffer the putrefying march of time. Some were even preserved within glass coffins, their preserved bodies visible for any to see who ventured down into the depths; others preferred stone sarcophagi with graven effigies sitting above them. In both cases, they looked the same: sleeping, eyes closed, peaceful looks upon their faces; they looked as though they were resting, and indeed, it was written in old lore that they would one day rise again, when harmony shattered and the three races of ponykind became divided once again, to lead the unicorns once more.

Nonsense, of course. But Professor Ozpin looked just like those old kings resting in their tombs, and like them, he would not rise again for any reason.

Nor would his body remain proof against time's malice, unless Princess Celestia could teach Sunset the spell.

Sunset took off her jacket and draped it over Professor Ozpin's face, head and shoulders, and upper body. He had a peaceful look, but nevertheless, it was not meet that he should simply lie like that upon the ground, unregarded, as though no one cared at all.

And besides, as peaceful as it was, the dead face rebuked her; she had been his servant, and yet, when he had need of aid, where had she been? Elsewhere. She had failed him. She had been absent, and in her absence, he had perished.

She had failed him, as she might have failed others too, she knew not as of yet.

"Pyrrha?!" Sunset shouted, leaving Professor Ozpin behind with her jacket to cover him, leaving her motorcycle behind too as she started to run from the courtyard, cutting across the lawn — a much-trampled lawn, by now; footprints and claw marks alike had torn through the grass and churned the mud beneath — towards the cliffs, towards the place where Amber had shown them the Vault. "Jaune?! Penny?!"

She bellowed out their names as she ran, slinging Soteria and Sol Invictus across her shoulders once again, and as she ran, as she neared the cliffs, she began to see in the darkness figures up ahead, three figures standing by the cliffs and one standing further off, not quite so far off as to be called aloof from them but in that vein.

"Pyrrha?!" Sunset shouted.

"Sunset?"

"Pyrrha!" Sunset yelled as she picked up her pace, her boots doing their own part to churn up the soil beneath her as she ran faster across the grass that bore so many signs of battle.

She teleported the last short distance, tired of running, appearing by the cliffs in a crack and a flash of green light, appearing in front of Pyrrha — and Jaune, too, who had his arms around her.

Sunset ignored him, for now. There would be time enough to deal with Jaune, who might not be so considerate as to pretend that they were perfect strangers as Ruby had, but right now, Sunset's attention was focussed upon Pyrrha, who was alive, who was standing in front of her. Sunset let out a gasp of relief at the sight. She was alive. She and Jaune were alive. Whyever the grimm had pulled out now, it was not because Amber had slain them to take the Relic.

Sunset reached out with both arms, and Jaune's own arms fell away, one of them at least — very decent of him, all things considered — to allow Sunset to wrap both arms around Pyrrha, to pull her close, so that Pyrrha's head was brought to rest on Sunset's shoulder.

Sunset wrapped one arm around Pyrrha's waist, the other upon the back of her head, gloved fingertips almost reaching the base of Pyrrha's long, red ponytail. For her part, Sunset could feel both Pyrrha's arms upon and around her shoulders, and a somewhat weight upon her as though Pyrrha were leaning upon Sunset more than she would have expected.

Sunset didn't mind that. What mattered was that she was here, alive; that being the case, Pyrrha could lean on her as heavily as she liked.

"You're alright," Sunset murmured. "You are…" Her mind caught up with what her eyes had beheld when she had teleported; Pyrrha, yes, but Pyrrha with a bruise on her face that made it look as though she had a grenade in her mouth, Pyrrha with cuts on her face and shoulder, Pyrrha with one eye half-swollen shut.

Pyrrha who seemed to be relying on Sunset to take her weight.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked down to see that Pyrrha was not just favouring one leg; she had lifted one foot wholly off the ground as though even to touch the ground was painful to her.

"You are not alright, are you?" she asked.

Pyrrha made a sound that might have been a very quiet chuckle or else a wince of pain. "I … I'm alive," she said. "That is so much more than others can say that I cannot complain."

She made a sort of shuffling, hopping motion backwards, keeping her arms on Sunset — and indeed Sunset was able to keep her arms around Pyrrha, even as Jaune put out a hand to steady Pyrrha if she needed it.

Pyrrha looked at Sunset with both eyes, but much more with one than the other. "It's good to see you again, as best I can see anything at the moment." She bowed her head, looking down at the ground between them. "I would that I had better news with which to greet you."

"You are alive; that is good news to start with," Sunset told her.

She looked at Jaune now, really looking at him for the first time tonight, for the first time since last night in the dorm room. She had already spoken with Pyrrha today, giving her some sense that she would not object to an enthusiastic reunion, but Jaune … Jaune, she was less sure of.

Sunset felt a little drying of her mouth as she said, "You are both alive." She licked her lips. "Good … evening, Mister Arc."

If he wished to show a lack of cordiality towards her, then the formality would allow him to do so, while shielding Sunset from the disappointment of a closer overture rejected.

Jaune looked at her, just as Sunset had looked at Jaune. He stared at her, his blue eyes inscrutable.

Then he reached out and placed a hand upon Sunsets shoulder. He squeezed, not painfully, with the intention of crushing her aura with his grip, as if he could, but with - Sunset dared to hope - some warmth.

"It's good to see you again," Jaune said. His voice was gruff, or perhaps one might call it hoarse, but none of Sunset’s ears detected any sarcasm there.

Sunset nodded. "Likewise." She looked him up and down and saw that he had no bruises on his face, no cuts on his body, no rents or tears in what passed for his armour that she could make out. "I'm glad, if a little surprised, to see that you've come through this battle in a better shape than Pyrrha. Unless Pyrrha got those wounds in your defence."

"No," Pyrrha said quickly. "No, not at all, I got these on my own account, and with no one else to blame."

"Although I," Jaune paused, letting his arm fall away from Sunset even as he stepped closer towards Pyrrha, his other arm enfolding her about both shoulders. "I might not have come out looking so good if it hadn't been for Cinder."

"Cinder?" Sunset repeated.

"I'm right here!"

Sunset jumped, her whole body trembling, and it was a good thing that Jaune had a hand on Pyrrha, or else she might have toppled over from the sudden shaking. As it was, Pyrrha did not fall, and Sunset was able to keep her hands upon her also even as she turned her head and twisted her waist a little to look on Cinder.

She was the one who had been standing off from the others, and in the excitement, Sunset confessed that she had not paid her sufficient mind else. She stood at the edge of the cliff as though she were about to launch herself off there for Initiation.

Sunset hadn't seen her since the Military Headquarters, when Cinder had stalked off in search of … of her vengeance.

"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."

Clearly, she didn't mean Pyrrha with that, or Jaune. Amber, then? Amber and her confederates?

Sunset could think of no other reason that would bring her here; she struggled to think of one that would keep her here.

Cinder glanced away from her, and curtsied, of all things in all places. "Good even, Miss Shimmer," she murmured.

Sunset would have thought that Cinder was mocking her — there was a part of her that did think that Cinder was mocking her — but at the same time, there was precious little mockery to be heard in Cinder's voice, so if this was teasing, it was very well hidden and very subtly done, so much so that the rest of Sunset wondered if Cinder might be awkward in Sunset's face as Sunset had been before Jaune.

After all, Sunset had been somewhat brusque with her when last they spoke, denying her the chance to speak.

In fairness, I was rather busy at the time.

But I can't really say I'm busy now, can I?

"Cinder," Sunset murmured. "I … I did not think to see you here."

"No?" Cinder asked. "Where…?"

For a while, Sunset thought there might be more to come, but if there was, then Cinder could not frame it, and the lonely word hung there between them, unaccompanied by any other."

"I … know not," Sunset admitted. "I couldn't really think. I wasn't sure who you meant when you talked about your revenge. You weren't very specific, although I was worried that…" She felt that Cinder wouldn't need Cinder's fears spelled out for her. "But it seems you have confounded my anxieties. You saved Jaune?"

"You two had seen each other earlier tonight?" Jaune asked.

"I saved Sunset too," Cinder declared, almost purring it. "I've been a very good girl."

Because you couldn't kill me in a fair fight, Sunset thought, but held her peace because it would have very seemed rather petty and sullen to have brought that up.

"This night has been full of surprises," Pyrrha said. "This one seems less unpleasant than most."

"It was Cinder who—" Sunset began.

"Pyrrha! Jaune!" Penny cried, drawing their attention in the direction of the shattered tower, from which same direction they could see Penny drawing near, moving as fast as she could.

"Penny!" Pyrrha cried, with such evident relief in her voice that Sunset couldn't help but wonder at the circumstances of their separation from her. The two had obviously parted ways, and it seemed that they had done so in a manner that was not altogether safe for Penny. Had she volunteered to lead the grimm away from Pyrrha and Jaune, or something like that?

Penny drew near. "The nevermore flew away," she said. "So when I was sure it was gone, I thought I should come and find you. And here you are! But what happened to your face? And why are you standing on one leg and leaning on— Sunset!" she yelled. "Sunset, you're here as well, and—" She froze for a moment as her green eyes alighted upon Cinder. "You!" she shouted, Floating Array emerging from out of her back, her lasers beginning to snap into place.

"Penny, wait!" Pyrrha cried, surprising Sunset who had been prepared to say much the same. She held out one hand in Penny's direction. "Please, Penny, wait, Cinder is … she saved my life."

Penny's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, really. And Jaune's perhaps, and Sunset's too, it seems."

Cinder had made no move. She had made no move to use the bow that she held lightly in one hand; she had made no call upon her Maiden's magic — there was no sign of the flaming corona around her eye — she had certainly made no move to escape from Penny's wrath. She stood in place, as if she were rooted to the spot by her glass slippers, or as if it mattered nought to her whether Penny shot her or no. She said nothing just as she did nothing; she maintained her silence and her stillness both alike.

Penny did not fold her swords and lasers away, but they did droop down towards the ground instead of aiming directly at Cinder.

"How?" she asked. "I'm grateful, but how?"

"I was just about to say," Sunset said, "that it was Cinder—"

"Do not speak of that," Cinder said, before Sunset could proceed any further. "Or, if you must, speak of it privately, another time; I have no wish to hear it. Speak of what has transpired here in this place, if you will, but not of that."

Speak not of your enslavement by Sonata, you mean? Sunset supposed that she could understand Cinder's desire to keep that to herself; it might have preceded a glorious deed on her part in killing Sonata, but the prelude was not her proudest moment. And Cinder was nothing if not proud.

"Very well," Sunset said, for if Cinder did not wish it spoken of, then Sunset was not going to force her to listen. At some point, she would have to tell the story, if only to explain why Cinder wasn't still in custody, but she would respect Cinder's wishes and tell it later, when she wasn't there. "Very well then, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny … I met Rainbow, Blake, and Sun on the way up here."

"Were they alright?" Penny asked.

"All alive," Sunset said. "Rainbow has an injury but promises that it isn't severe. She took some scars protecting Sun."

"'Protecting Sun'?" Penny repeated.

"For Blake's sake, obviously," Sunset explained. "They told me that you went on while they held off the grimm. That you went on with Ciel."

Penny nodded. "Ciel headed towards the Emerald Forest, to draw the grimm away from us who were on the grounds, so that we could get past them. Only, while she'd lured most of them away, not all of them. A nevermore grabbed me."

"I'm sorry that we didn't come after you," Pyrrha said.

"It's my … it was my decision," Jaune explained. "I thought that … that we couldn't afford to … to waste time going after you when we needed to get to the Vault and stop Amber."

"Such loyalty," Cinder murmured. "Is this not conduct you would expect of me, the villain?"

Jaune ignored her.

So did Penny, for that matter. She said, "I understand, don't worry. I know that Pyrrha tried to grab me with her semblance; I'm sorry, I used Freedom on you — or on your semblance, anyway — because between your semblance and the nevermore grabbing me, I felt like I was being pulled apart, and I couldn't make the nevermore let go so easily."

"I understand too, Penny," Pyrrha said. "And I'm sorry for using Polarity on you when I said that I'd be more considerate, but I couldn't think of anything else to do in the circumstances."

"It's fine," Penny assured her. "The nevermore dropped me off on top of the tower — on what's left of the tower — but I was able to get through to the floor below and hold it off until … until it flew away. I wasn't expecting you to come after me. We left Rainbow Dash and Blake and Sun behind; we left Ciel behind, or Ciel left us, you know what I mean; why shouldn't you leave me behind too? Honestly … I was more worried about the two of you. When we left, there were meant to be a lot more of us facing Amber and the others, but by then, it was just the three of us, then just the two of you. Is that why you were so badly injured, because I wasn't there?"

"You can hardly be blamed for that," Pyrrha told her. "Most of the blame lies with myself. I … asked Jaune to call for help, from Professor Goodwitch or Sunset or anyone else, and then catch up with me."

"But I got jumped by a griffon, one of the other grimm that hadn't followed Ciel," Jaune explained, taking up the story. "It threw me into the school and then buried me under a pile of rubble." He sighed. "I might have been in trouble if Cinder hadn't shown up." He looked at her. "You could have dug me out of there after you killed the griffon."

"I had faith you'd get yourself out eventually," Cinder said. "And time was of the essence, after all; you seemed very concerned about Pyrrha at the time." She glanced down at Pyrrha's leg. "And rightly so too, it must be said. Jaune told me where the Vault was and how to enter, and I entered."

"But what were you doing here in the first place?" asked Penny.

Cinder smiled faintly. "I'm sure you can guess."

"I had gone on ahead, entering the Vault," Pyrrha said. "I … I found that I was almost too late; Amber and the others had entered the inner sanctum and retrieved the Relic. I…" She hesitated. "I fought them; I will not bore you with more detail than that. I fought them, and…" She closed her eyes. "I killed Dove."

There was a moment of silence.

"Pyrrha," Jaune murmured. "I…" He wrapped both arms around her waist. Sunset released Pyrrha, allowing Jaune to step yet closer to her, as she leaned against him, placing her weight on him. "I know what you're going through," he said. "And because I know that, I know that there's nothing I can say to make this better. But, if you ever want to talk about it, I'm right here."

Pyrrha nodded slightly but said nothing.

Sunset swallowed as she watched her. She glanced at Penny. Of the five of them, including Penny in this, three of them now had taken lives: Sunset herself, Jaune and now Pyrrha. Only Penny and Ruby had not had blood upon their blades, which was somewhat ironic, considering Ruby could probably have borne it best of all of them — although Sunset was very glad that Penny had not taken a life.

She could not help but think — fear, yes, but also simply think as much as she might try to dismiss mere fears — that Pyrrha would never forget this. She, Sunset, had never forgotten Adam, and while Dove had not been a part of Pyrrha's nightmares before tonight, he had become a friend to them, which might be even worse than a nightmare. This would be hard on her. Whether it would be harder on her than killing an enemy he didn't know had been for Jaune, Sunset could not say, but she feared that it might be.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the deathless verse of The Mistraliad and the ancient warrior values of Mistral could offer some way to avoid feeling guilty.

If they did, they didn't appear to be working on Pyrrha at present.

"Amber," Pyrrha said. "Amber was furious, I cannot blame her for it. She attacked me; I could not stand against her magic. My aura broke, and she did me these injuries you see and observe." She paused. "She would have killed me if not for Cinder."

Sunset looked at Cinder. She expected her to take up the tale, as Pyrrha had taken it up from Jaune; she expected, in all honesty, something rather self-aggrandising: a story of heroic combat, of great deeds done in darkness, a story to swell the ego and adorn the name of Cinder Fall.

She got none of that. She got nothing at all; she showed no inclination to speak. She watched them in the same silence that she had maintained when threatened by Penny's weapons.

Pyrrha, realising that Cinder was not going to say anything, cleared her throat. "Cinder saved me, and she fought Amber. She … Amber died."

"She would not have stopped trying to kill you." Now, Cinder spoke, her voice soft. "She would have struck at you had the opportunity arisen. There was a rage in her that would not be sated."

"I do not blame you," Pyrrha said. "I … I grieve for my friend, even as I wonder … but I do not blame you."

"No one blames you," said Jaune. "It was a fight; it … happens."

"Bon Bon's dead too," Pyrrha said, not saying who had killed her. Sunset guessed it was not Pyrrha herself — why admit to killing Dove and then be coy about Bon Bon's killer? — but that didn't answer who it was. Cinder also? Or someone else altogether?

"But Lightning Dust and Tempest Shadow escaped," Pyrrha went on. "With the Relic."

Penny gasped. No one spoke. Sunset … Sunset had not been expecting it, but at the same time … it did not fill her heart with a black dread, even if it ought to have done so.

She could not help but glance at Cinder, whose eyes flickered from Jaune to Sunset to Penny. She didn't look at Pyrrha, only at the other three, glancing at them with an expression that was curious, the slightest twitch of a smile curling one corner of her lip, eyes widened just a tad.

Not smiling at the loss of a Relic, surely?

No. No, she wants to know if any of us will say that it would be better for Pyrrha to have died and for us to have kept the Relic. She wants to see our resolve, or lack thereof.

I wonder what would count as resolve in her eyes and what would be a lack of the same?

She noticed that Cinder's eyes kept on going to Jaune, more than to Sunset or Penny, and Sunset guessed that was because Jaune had spoken in favour of leaving Penny behind. Cinder was waiting to see if he would be so resolute when it came to Pyrrha.

At least, that was Sunset's guess. It made sense to her, out of Cinder's expression.

Sunset sighed and decided to take the plunge, for all that this sort of thing had gotten her into trouble in the past, nevertheless, she would say it and get it over with. "For my own part," she said, "on my way up here, and especially after I passed Rainbow Dash and she shared some disquieting ideas with me, my heart was full of fear over what I would find, who I would find or not find when I got here. Who I might … never find again." She frowned. "But I cannot say that coming here and finding the Relic gone … on my drive, it did not ever make my heart tremble."

"Yet it is what we came here for," Pyrrha said. "We failed. Vain was Professor Ozpin's trust in us."

"From my personal experience, Professor Ozpin could be very forgiving," Sunset reminded her. "Were he here, I'm sure he would have remained very forgiving."

"But he isn't here," Pyrrha murmured. "Is he? He's gone, just like the Relic."

"Obviously, it would be best if we still had it," Sunset admitted. "But…" She closed her eyes. I would not trade you for a thousand Relics, she thought, but that was the sort of thing that really had got her into trouble in the past, so she said, "As I understand, nothing bad will happen until she gets all four, and at present, she has only one, so … it's unfortunate, but not fatal. We must—"

"Don't say it," Cinder said.

"We must not look back," Sunset said instead. "Except to learn … maybe not to tell Jaune to hang back to call for help and catch up after."

Pyrrha winced. "Yes. Yes, that is something I'll remember."

"I'll remember it too," Jaune added.

Pyrrha tilted her head a little upwards towards him. "I really didn't mean to fight the battle by myself," she assured him.

"I know," Jaune said. "I'm not accusing you of anything; you made what you thought was the right call, and I went along with it. But that is how it kind of ended up, until…" He gestured at Cinder with his head. "So we should keep that in mind."

"And maybe have more people with us," Penny suggested. "Or not leave so many behind, or something."

Sunset nodded. If Pyrrha had not been alone down there — apart from Cinder, obviously — then things might have gone differently.

"So, Sunset," Jaune said. "How did you get up here?"

"I couldn't see the dragon from the cliffs," Pyrrha added. "Does that mean that—?"

"Ruby took it out," Sunset said. "Shot it in its weak spot. It's dead, and the grimm are retreating. That's how I was able to get up here."

Penny clapped her hands together. "Well done, Ruby!"

Pyrrha let out a sigh of relief. "And so the glory of the night descends upon her shoulders, for there is little enough of it else to go around."

"If you're all caught up," Cinder said. "Sunset, I wonder if we might have a word." She gestured further along the cliffs, away from Jaune and Pyrrha and Penny and away from the school buildings also, in the direction of the quiet, empty, and abandoned fairground. "Privately."

"A word about what?" asked Jaune.

"If I told you all, it wouldn't be private, would it?" Cinder responded tartly. "Sunset, if you will."

Cinder didn't wait for Sunset to indicate that she would come; she rather set off and trusted that Sunset would follow. As she walked off with long strides that devoured the ground beneath her, Sunset looked at the others.

"I think she's earned a hearing, if nothing else," Sunset said. "Take care of Pyrrha; I'll be back."

Jaune began to use his semblance upon Pyrrha; Sunset lingered just long enough to see the shimmering golden light spread from his hands across Pyrrha's body, cocooning her skin, her cuirass, her gloves and golden ornaments, the long red hair that fell behind her, all of her, before she turned away and hurried after Cinder.

Cinder was not only taller than Sunset but longer in the legs especially, and Sunset had to run to catch up with her; but catch up she eventually did, falling in beside Cinder — Cinder slowed her pace a little, for Sunset's sake — as Sunset was able to stop running and walk alongside. She looked at Cinder — if she had to look a little up at Cinder — and saw that she had found a new black choker for her throat.

"That suits you better than the one she made you wear," Sunset said softly.

"Hmm?"

"The choker," Sunset said.

"Oh," Cinder murmured. "Well, yes, anything would suit me better than that hideous thing." She paused. "And yet, that hideous thing turned out to suit me more than anything, as it turned out."

Sunset frowned, unsure of Cinder's meaning and so unsure of how precisely to respond. The possible meanings that she could guess were not good, to say the least, but she feared a little to venture upon any one interpretation in her response in case it turned out to be the wrong one.

At the same time, though, with the silence between them on the verge of stretching out, she felt as though she ought to say something. "You are no slave to wear a collar."

"Kindly said," Cinder admitted. "But wrong, Sunset, quite wrong. I have been a slave these many years; I have been a slave just as surely as if I had been bound to the galleys as in the days of old. A slave to Lady Kommenos, a slave to Salem; lastly, a slave to Sonata, whose slavery was the harshest of all because she kept my mind in chains, not just my body."

"Yet you broke your chains," Sunset pointed out. "You freed yourself; you saved me, saved Jaune, saved Pyrrha; are these the actions of a slave, servile, cowed, obedient?"

"I was never an obedient slave."

"Then I would question if you were ever a slave at all," Sunset replied.

Cinder chuckled. "I'm not sure that holds water," she said. "But I appreciate you trying."

"And I…" Sunset trailed off a moment. "Thank you for saving them. Pyrrha and Jaune—"

"But especially Pyrrha," Cinder said.

"You said that, not me," Sunset said. "You have my … you are used to flowery words from me, so now let simple ones convey my feeling: you have my thanks eternal."

"It was a trifle to perform this small service for you," Cinder said lightly.

"For me?"

"I did it in part for you," Cinder explained. "Surely, that cannot surprise you."

"I thought you might have done it for Pyrrha," Sunset replied.

"If Pyrrha were an island entire of herself, I doubt I should have bothered," Cinder confessed. "You know she urged me to follow the Relic."

Sunset clasped her hands behind her back for want of anything else to do with them. "That doesn't surprise me."

"As Tempest was getting away, she was shouting at me to go after her," Cinder explained. "It was quite distracting. It let Amber land a blow on me at one point. But I must admit, I was tempted."

"To get the Relic."

"To have my revenge," Cinder said.

To be revenged on the whole pack of them. "So … Amber wasn't your revenge?"

"Amber had far more reason to be revenged on me than I on her," Cinder answered. "Amber and I were enemies; she sought protection from my wrath. In doing so, she betrayed you, but that is an issue for you, not me. No, Tempest, Lightning Dust, Bon Bon, they were the ones who betrayed me, the ones whom I hoped would reap the bitter harvest of my vengeance."

"But you didn't," Sunset said. "You let them go. You saved Pyrrha instead."

"Yes," Cinder said. "Yes, I did."

Sunset said nothing. She waited, to see if there was more to come from Cinder before she replied.

"Journey's end in lover's meeting, every wise man's son doth know," Cinder whispered, looking around her and away from Sunset, as though taking in the view. "I did it for you," she said. "And I suppose I did it for that copperhead girl behind us whose name ever eludes me—"

"Penny," Sunset said. "It's Penny Polendina, is that really so hard for you to remember?"

"Apparently so," Cinder replied. "But more than that, I did it for each of them, the other … and for little Ashley and her parents too. It is … I envy her. Where once I envied her her glories, titles, honours, now … now, I envy that she is so loved. Nobody loves me so dearly. I do not even love myself thus, for my conscience cries out with a thousand voices and proclaims me villain."

"Does it?" Sunset asked, for Cinder had never acted like it before.

"It does now," Cinder told her. "Since … since I was freed from her."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. She hadn't thought that Sonata's death would have so great an impact on Cinder.

I didn't give her the chance to tell me so, did I?

"It … it isn't true," she said, her voice trembling just a touch, her hands unclasping as she made to reach for Cinder's arm, only to draw back before she could touch the crimson sleeve.

Cinder glanced at her. "It isn't true that I am a villain?"

"No, that part is, or was, unfortunately the case," Sunset muttered. "But nevertheless, it … it isn't true that you are…" She swallowed. "Uncared for."

Cinder froze. She stopped in mid step, slipper half pressed down upon the grass. She … it was as though she was trying to look at Sunset noticing that she was looking at her.

She closed her eyes. Her whole body trembled. "Sunset, you…" She stopped; at first, Sunset thought that she had merely paused or hesitated, but it went on too long for that. Moments, seconds passed before she said, "Sunset, I am the Fall Maiden now. With Amber dead, all the magic now resides in me."

Sunset didn't respond. It was obvious now that Cinder had come out and said it, but it had been something that … something that Pyrrha hadn't brought up, and there had been too much that had been brought up, too much told, too much recounted to really think about things like where Amber's magic had gone upon her death.

So Professor Ozpin was right in where it would go. The magic sought to reunite.

Or was it the fact that Cinder slew Amber that granted her the power?

"I see," Sunset said softly. "I take it Pyrrha must know this too."

"She was there when I acquired the other half of the magic."

"At other times, I daresay it would worry her, but I think the fact that you saved her life has driven out such things," Sunset said. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I … tell me true, Sunset, how did you wake Amber up, and why, and … what happened to her, after I attacked her? She disappeared and then suddenly reappeared, walking the streets, what happened?"

Sunset frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just tell me, please," Cinder insisted, rounding on Sunset so that they were face to face. "Tell me, and your debt to me for Pyrrha's life and Pyrrha's debt and Jaune's debt and all is wiped clean with a true tale. Please, tell me; it's important."

Sunset hesitated, but with Amber dead — and Professor Ozpin — she supposed there wasn't too much harm in Cinder knowing what had happened. What could she do with the knowledge, after all, to harm anyone yet living?

"After you … attacked her," Sunset said, "Amber was brought back to Beacon and kept on life support in a … special facility on the campus."

"'On the campus'?" Cinder repeated. "'On the—' She was here the whole time?"

"Yes," Sunset said simply.

"My … my word," Cinder murmured. "She was here the whole time, and nobody had any idea. You are all so very fortunate I didn't find her sooner. I myself am very fortunate I didn't find her sooner." She shook her head. "Say on, please."

"There isn't a huge amount to say," Sunset admitted. "Pyrrha and I, none of us found out about Amber until very recently, just before the Vytal tournament began. That was when Professor Ozpin showed Pyrrha and I her, on her life support. You see…"

Cinder waited a moment. "Go on."

Sunset scratched at the back of her head. "I'm not sure if I should."

"She's dead; what harm can it do?" Cinder asked. She cocked her head to one side. "You and Pyrrha," she repeated. "You and Pyrrha were shown…" She let out a sort of laugh. "He had some plan, didn't he? He wanted Pyrrha to succeed Amber as the Fall Maiden."

"You said that, not me."

"And you did not deny it," Cinder answered. "Come, Sunset, I just saved her life. What do you think I'm going to do, fly back to her and kill her for … for what, for being Ozpin's choice?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Sunset confessed.

"I suppose I can't blame you," Cinder conceded. "But I told you, my causes for envy of Pyrrha have shifted. They have nothing to do with such things as power any more. And even if they did, I'm the one with the power, so what would I have to envy or resent her in any case?"

That was not an unsound point. "Professor Ozpin had a machine," Sunset said. "An Atlesian machine that would transfer Amber's aura into Pyrrha."

"Transfer her aura?"

"Professor Ozpin hoped," Sunset went on, "that Amber's half of the magic would transfer to Pyrrha along with her aura."

Cinder stared at her, eyes agog. "And this is the man you followed?"

"Did you not do as much to Amber?" Sunset couldn't help but ask.

"Aye, I did, but I was the villain!" Cinder declared. "I was wicked, and I served a wicked mistress; don't you think your captain should be held to a higher standard?"

"I won't deny that there were strong reactions," Sunset said. "From me, from Jaune … even from Pyrrha herself, after her fashion. But Professor Ozpin was desperate, and he did not undertake this plan lightly, and it didn't come to pass in any case, and you have no grounds to stand there and cast aspersions on him, so … don't."

Cinder held up one hand. "Very well, I shall not speak another word against his memory." She paused. "But this plan didn't happen because…"

"Because I brought her back," Sunset said. "I used my magic, from my world, and my semblance, which you've experienced for yourself—"

"Indeed."

"And I went inside Amber's mind or soul or both, and I brought her back." She paused for a moment. With both hands, she clutched at the hem of her skirt. "I don't regret it," she said defiantly, even though Cinder hadn't suggested that she ought to regret it; she hadn't even asked. "What I did saved Pyrrha from a fate that no one could predict; it saved Amber too, for a time. It saved Professor Ozpin having to do something that would have haunted him." She bowed her head. "When I think about what might have happened … I would do it all again, just as I did; even knowing how it would all turn out, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't let Pyrrha get into that machine; I wouldn't let Professor Ozpin do that to her or to himself. I did the right thing; I believed it then, and I believe it now, and I will believe it yet."

"And I believe you," Cinder said. She rolled her shoulders. "So … Pyrrha. Pyrrha was the old man's choice."

"Yes," Sunset said cautiously. "What about it?"

"Appropriate, I suppose," Cinder murmured. She looked away from Sunset, towards where Pyrrha and the others were; Pyrrha was concealed beneath the golden light of Jaune's semblance, yet that same light made her easy to pick out, a beacon in the darkness.

"Thank you, Sunset," Cinder said. "For everything."

"What—?"

Cinder hit her, a punch that Sunset didn't see coming. They were standing too close, and Cinder was moving too fast; her fist was a blur as it rammed into Sunset's nose.

And she must have put a chunk of her aura behind the blow as well, and a large chunk at that, because in addition to the pain in her face as her aura flared at the damage, Sunset found herself picked up and thrown through the air to a degree that wouldn't have been possible if Cinder hadn't been concentrating her aura. Sunset squawked wordlessly as she was tossed through the air, then cried out as she landed heavily upon her shoulder. She bounced along the ground, rolling over and over, getting mud and grass on her shoulders, on her face, in her hair. Sol Invictus flew off her shoulder and arm, while Soteria jammed into her back again and again as she bounced, denting her aura like little punches adding to the larger blows of her repeated impacts on the ground.

Sunset eventually rolled to a halt, having been hurled so far she was almost at the fairgrounds. An unattended hotdog stand sat a bare dozen feet away from her.

Much further away was Cinder, a great distance opened between them by her blow. She was looking at Pyrrha, or at least looking in Pyrrha's direction.

She held a glass scimitar, the hilt gripped in both hands.

"Cinder!" Sunset yelled, scrambling to her feet, her hands glowing green with magic. If Cinder did try to assail Pyrrha, then—

Cinder closed her eyes and rammed the obsidian blade home into her stomach.

"Cinder!" Sunset shouted as she started to run towards her. "Cinder, w— JAUNE!"

Cinder stood for a moment, eyes closed, blade lodged within her stomach, and yet somehow standing as tall as an ancient tree and as proud as any statue of any king or hero that adorned the streets or squares of Mistral.

Then she swayed in place, her whole body wobbling back and forth, before she toppled sideways onto the grass.

Sunset's eyes were wide, her breath ragged as she teleported the distance separating the two of them. "Cinder?" Sunset knelt down beside her. "Cinder?"

The glass was gone. The obsidian blade that had pierced her had shattered into fragments that lay glistening all around her. The blade was gone, but the wound that it had dealt to Cinder was there for all to see, raw and red and ugly. Blood was forming a growing stain on Cinder's dress, darkening the red fabric in an ever expanding circle.

Sunset took one of Cinder's hands in her own. "Cinder, wh … what are you doing?"

Cinder didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, and she might almost have looked as one dead already if Sunset hadn't been able to feel her pulse.

Her pulse that was already beginning to fade.

"Cinder," Sunset said. "Come on, Cinder, you can't just … I won't let you."

A slight frown creased Cinder's brow, and she turned her face away from Sunset.

Jaune arrived. He had handed Pyrrha off to Penny — the two of them were following on behind, Penny helping Pyrrha along — and now he stood over Cinder and Sunset, looking down on them with mouth gaping open.

"What happened?"

"She stabbed herself," Sunset said. "Come on, I need you to boost her aura."

Although Cinder's aura had not been broken when she struck the blow.

Nevertheless, Jaune would force her to heal whether she wanted to or not.

She hoped he would, anyway. Jaune hesitated for a second, but it was no more than a second or two, Cinder's assistance to them tonight drowning out the memory of her earlier misdeeds as Jaune knelt down beside her and held his hands out over her.

The golden light covered his palms, shimmering brilliantly, rippling like the waters.

Sunset nodded, waiting for the light to spread over Cinder.

It didn't. The light remained confined to Jaune's hands, glowing stubbornly there and nowhere else. Cinder's — Cinder, not dead yet, but dying nonetheless, lay on the ground unlit by that same light, untouched by it as the bloodstain on her dress grew larger still.

"Jaune?" Sunset asked.

"I don't know what's happening," Jaune said. "I'm trying, but … it's like there's something pushing back. Like she's blocking me somehow."

"How can she be blocking you?" Sunset demanded.

"I don't know; this has never happened before!" Jaune cried. "But maybe … maybe she's suppressing her aura so much that it's suppressing my semblance too." He bit his lip. "Sunset, she did this to herself; she might not want to be healed."

"I don't care what she wants right now!" Sunset snapped. She looked down at Cinder. "Cinder. Cinder! What are you … why are you doing this?"

"What's going on?" asked Pyrrha as Penny helped her towards them.

"Cinder stabbed herself," Sunset explained. "And now it seems like she's suppressing her aura so well Jaune's semblance won't work on her."

"Oh my goodness," Pyrrha murmured.

"But why?" asked Penny.

"Because it is … a tradition, for the defeated to fall upon their blade," Pyrrha said quietly. "Not required, but not disdained either. Many who have taken that road are admired for their courage."

"Oh, of all the Mistralian high class crap!" Sunset snarled. "Cinder? Cinder! Cinder, listen to me, you've got to listen, you can't just … you can't … don't go." Sunset's whole body sagged, her head drooping forward, her fiery hair falling down in front of her face. "I don't want you to go."

Cinder … it was hard to tell if Cinder was turning her head away or else it was lolling to one side. Either way, it was turning away from Sunset.

Her breathing was shallow now, the rise and fall of her chest barely visible.

"You might not," Jaune said softly. "But she … Sunset, I'm sorry, but … it's like she’s lost the will to live.”

"'Lost the will to…'" Sunset trailed off. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay, fine," she said as she started to telekinetically unbuckle one of her vambraces. "Then I'll just have to give her a reason, I suppose."

"What are you doing?" asked Pyrrha.

"I'm going to go somewhere she can't ignore me," Sunset said, tearing off her glove. "Keep trying, Jaune."

"You're going to use your semblance?" asked Pyrrha. "But, if Cinder dies whilst you're—"

"I mean to make sure that doesn't happen," Sunset said. She let her glove fall down by her side. "Keep trying," she repeated to Jaune.

Jaune nodded.

"Thanks," Sunset said. "Hang on, Cinder, I'm on my way."

She pressed her hand to Cinder's cold cheek.

The whole world was consumed in a blinding light.

Author's Note

I could talk about how the title is a reference to the World War 1 play, or about how the verse that Cinder quotes comes from Twelfth Night, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that the first thing that pops into my own head when I think of 'Journey's End' is Doctor Who.

Cinder's attempted suicide is, of course, an element from the original, but I think it hits more strongly here because a lot more characters have tried to either kill themselves or get themselves killed and the narrative has always set itself against that, and argued that no, it isn't the answer that the characters at their lowest think it is, so now it's part of a pattern instead of just Cinder doing something because she has been brought low.

Of course, she has been brought low, and there is a tradition of Roman generals committing suicide to escape the consequences of defeat, and particularly of being taken captive by their enemies - Brutus and Cassius both killed themselves after Philippi, Mark Antony committed suicide after Actium, Cato the Younger tore out his own entrails to foil efforts to save his life after his own suicide attempt was discovered - and since Mistral is a Greco-Roman society then Pyrrha mentions that this is a Mistralian tradition also, one that Sunset immediately decries.

Jaune's semblance doesn't work because the problem isn't that Cinder's aura is broken, or that she doesn't have enough of it, the problem is that she's suppressing it, and so it doesn't matter how much Jaune boosts it she's still suppressing her aura, it's like multiplying by zero.

Transfer of Power (Rewritten)

Transfer of Power

It was Mistral.

Sunset knew that, although she couldn't have been more specific than that in regards to exactly where she was in the great city, but she recognised the styles of the houses; she could look up and see the city rising as it cover the mountainside; she could see the White Tower, gleaming softly in the moonlight.

It was dark here, as dark as it had been — as it was — outside, in Vale, at Beacon, in the waking world. As there, so here, it was night time still.

Sunset looked around, searching for something that she might recognise, a landmark of some description; she had little hope of recognising this place with her own memories — she had not seen that much of Mistral, after all, and only the parts of it most suitable for tourists — but perhaps if she could get her bearings, then she could get a sense of which of Cinder's memories this was. She didn't know for sure, but she thought that it must be from somewhere between the deaths of Lady Kommenos and Philonoe and when Cinder struck out to seek out the Dark Mother. Or perhaps it was when she had been in Mistral at the same time as them, posing as a Haven student.

Hopefully, something would…

Sunset stopped, because as she turned around, as she turned in place within this Mistralian square, her green eyes widened to behold the statue that had been behind her, looming unseen over her, dominating the space for all that it had gone unseen at first by Sunset.

It was a statue of Pyrrha.

She was depicted much larger than life-sized, the statue was about twenty feet tall if Sunset was any judge, it towered over the Mistralian houses all around, and to the height of the great statue itself was added a marble plinth that was nearly as tall as Sunset was. In pose, Pyrrha had been modelled after the statue of Victory that Sunset had seen in the temple: head bowed, shield held in front of her below the waist, both hands upon the rim. The statue was made of gold, or at least it was gilded — it might have been bronze beneath — with sparkling emeralds set in Pyrrha's downturned eyes. Sunset had never seen that in any Mistralian statue before.

She had never seen this statue before either; she had never imagined that such a thing existed — although it didn't surprise her that Pyrrha hadn't gone out of her way to show it to them. She wondered where it was, and when it had been put up, and why; yes, Pyrrha was well known and well regarded, but surely, a statue like this was a bit much even for an unprecedented run of tournament victories, even for one of the high blood of the line of Nikos.

Sunset took a step forward, and then another, walking across the flagstones of the square towards the statue — the eyes of literal emerald looked down upon her as she went — and towards the plinth on which the statue stood.

She walked forwards, so that she could read the words on the bronze plaque affixed to the white marble.

Pyrrha Nikos

Champion of Mistral

Last of the House of Nikos

'Last'? 'Last of the House of Nikos'? Sunset knew what that meant, she had pondered the dread possibility often enough, fretted over it, feared it, but to read it here…

What memory is this?

"So," Cinder said, drawling out the word, as she drawled out her sentence after. "You came. I thought you would."

Sunset turned, away from the plinth, away from the towering statue; she could see Cinder now, slinking forwards from out of the darkness. She looked as though she had seen better days: her clothes were stained and ragged, the gold thread on her sleeves was starting to unravel, there were tears and nicks at the hem and the cuffs. Her glass slippers were gone, replaced by a pair of plain brown slippers that looked almost like rags wrapped around her feet. Her hair was untidy, and there were smudges on her face.

"If you thought I'd come, then what was the point of all this?" she demanded. "If you thought I'd come, then why go to all this trouble?" She glanced up at the statue, where the emerald eyes looked down upon her. "Where are we?"

Cinder, too, looked up at the statue. "I hope you appreciate the choice of venue," she said. "I thought it was rather appropriate."

"Don't look at her," snarled a voice — snarled Sunset's voice, but not from Sunset's mouth. Sunset's equine ears pricked up as she heard her own voice coming from elsewhere. She turned again, putting Cinder behind her now, only to behold herself, approaching from the other direction.

It was her, it was Sunset Shimmer, but not as she had ever been, not as Sunset recognised. This other Sunset was dressed all in black: black jacket, black jeans, black gloves upon her hands, her armour painted black so not a trace of bare metal could be seen. Her hair was long and ragged and unkempt; it looked as though it hadn't seen a comb for weeks or months, never mind a pair of scissors — or a shampoo bottle, for that matter. It fell down in front of Sunset's face, so that Sunset was surprised that she could see past the curtain. Her hair was the only thing about her that wasn't black, that bore no black about it — even Sunset's face had dark bags beneath her eyes, for all that curtain of untidy hair served to conceal them somewhat from first glance. She looked as though she hadn't slept in some time, perhaps for as long as she had been letting her hair get this way.

This didn't happen, Sunset thought, as she retreated out of the way, moving so that she no longer stood between these two. Not because she wanted to get out of their way — they couldn't see her, and she would not obstruct them — but because she wanted to keep them both in view without having to keep turning around all the time.

So she backed off until she could see them both, them and the great looming statue of Pyrrha that stood between them.

"Don't," Sunset — the other Sunset — repeated, shaking her head vigorously. "Don't look at her, you don't…" Her whole body trembled. "You don't have the right to look at her, not after what you did."

"You make it sound as if I did something untoward," Cinder murmured.

"You killed her!" Sunset yelled, the words echoing off the buildings that surrounded them, echoing into the night. Killed her, killed her, killed her, the words hung in the air all around, repeating over and over again, driven by repetition into Sunset's mind.

No. No, she didn't.

Cinder took a step closer to the statue. "I laid her low in stricken battle," she said. "There is no shame in that."

"'No shame'?" Sunset repeated, disbelief making her voice as soft as a whisper. "'No shame'?" She made a sound that was either a strangled chuckle or a sob. "I hate you."

"I know," Cinder said, calmly, as though she was the very fount of calmness, as though nothing in the world could disturb her serenity. "And here, in this place, beneath her lovely, sparkling eyes, you will kill me and have your revenge."

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back, black sword to go with the black everything else that she was wearing. As she gripped the blade in both hands, her whole body trembled. "I don't want revenge," she whispered. "Revenge … revenge won’t bring her back."

Cinder looked down for a moment, an uneasy look passing across her face. "I know," she said, as twin black scimitars appeared in her hands, the obsidian glass weapons forming out of seeming nothingness. "But you know what you must do, what duty and friendship and your wrath demand." She paused for a moment. "The final chapter of our story is at hand, Sunset. Make it a good one."

Sunset shook her head. This didn't happen! How can this be a memory when it didn't happen?!

"Not a memory," Cinder said. "A dream."

It was not the Cinder in Sunset's eye who had spoken, not the Cinder in her slightly fraying garments who had slunk across the Mistralian square for what seemed now to be a battle to the death with Sunset. No, it was another Cinder, a Cinder whose clothes showed no sign of wear and tear, a Cinder whose face was perfectly made up, a Cinder who stood at Sunset's shoulder, just behind her.

The real Cinder.

"Cinder!" Sunset cried, turning to face her, turning her back on the two would-be combatants who bore their names and wore their faces — and turning her back on Pyrrha's statue too, which was perhaps an even greater relief. Nevertheless, though she had turned her back upon them all, she could not so easily forget that they were there; she jerked her head backwards towards the statue and the two people who stood beneath. "'A dream'?" She frowned. "Strange dreams you have, and dark ones."

Cinder chuckled. "Well, perhaps." She paused for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure that I wanted you to see this," she said. "And yet, I no longer have the strength to expel you."

"I'm not surprised," Sunset muttered.

"This is how I wanted it to end," Cinder said, ignoring Sunset's last comment, stepping past her, closer to the Pyrrha's statue. She glanced at Sunset over her shoulder. "In The Mistraliad, Pyrrha kills Juturna, but in the process, she seals her own doom; even up until that point she could have escaped her fate, but in choosing revenge, she chooses also to embrace her destiny."

"You … you wanted me to be your executioner?" Sunset asked incredulously.

"It is not a friend's office, I know," Cinder allowed. "But after I had killed Pyrrha, you wouldn't have been my friend, would you?"

"But you didn't kill her," Sunset pointed out. "You saved her, down in the Vault."

"And I would ask that you remember that," Cinder said. "That you remember me for that, more than … other things that I could mention but would rather not speak of."

"I don't want to remember you," Sunset said. "I mean I don't want to remember you because I don't have to, because you're still around." She took a step forward. "It's like you said, Pyrrha didn't seal her doom until the very last moment, not until she killed Juturna. You haven't … your fate is not fixed yet; your destiny is not settled. You can still walk away. Stop suppressing your aura, let Jaune boost you, let your wound be healed—"

"You shouldn't be here," Cinder said, turning away from Sunset and looking up at the statue of Pyrrha that loomed over them all. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sunset declared. "Not without you. If you want me to leave, then come with me. Come back with me."

Cinder didn't look at her. She kept her back to Sunset as she said, "Come back to what, Sunset? Come back and be healed by Jaune so that I can be put to death in the public sight?"

"No," Sunset said, shaking her head for all that Cinder couldn't see it. "I wouldn't … I won't let that happen."

Cinder sighed. She still didn't look back. "I'm trying to do the right thing, Sunset."

"'The right thing'?" Sunset repeated. "The right thing according to who? Or should I say, the right thing according to what, to some Mistralian upper class b—"

The ground shook beneath Sunset's feet. The square, the houses, all of Mistral trembled around her as a great rumbling louder than any thunderstorm rose up from out of the bowels of the earth. Pyrrha's gilded statue swayed alarmingly upon her marble plinth; the dream Sunset and Cinder were shaken so violently that they were trembled plain out of existence, disappearing from Sunset's sight. Sunset herself was nearly knocked off her feet and had to throw her arms out on either side of her for balance.

"What's going on?" she cried.

Now, Cinder turned to look at her. "You need to go, now!"

"Not without—"

The statue of Pyrrha toppled off the plinth, the emerald eyes seeming to gleam a little less as the immense edifice fell slowly forwards, directly towards Cinder — and it was probably so large it might have landed on Sunset too. Certainly, both of them found it wise to scramble out of the way before the statue hit the ground with a clatter and a clang that was almost as loud as the thunderous rumbling coming from out of the earth, a rumbling that sounded almost like the roaring of some great beast trapped beneath the mountain.

"Did you dream of a grimm beneath Mistral too?" Sunset asked.

"'Dream'?" Cinder murmured. "Dream, no, but—"

The marble plinth exploded, or was shattered into fragments by some great blow delivered from out of Sunset's sight. The white stone broke, shards flying here and there and everywhere, a cloud of dust thrown up that momentarily concealed the figure behind, at least in part, rendering them nothing more than a vague silhouette.

Then they strode through the cloud of dust.

In part, it resembled Cinder herself; it had her height, more or less, and its face upon one side resembled hers, although it had no hair. It had the shape of her body, her curves, the narrowing of her waist, her long legs. Those legs, that skin, her whole body was black, though; blacker than Sunset in her mourning garb, as black as any beowolf or ursa, all black save only for her face, which was as pale as a long-drowned corpse.

As pale as Salem.

And just like Salem, a pair of red eyes burned like fire within that pale face.

Only half of its face was visible, the other half concealed beneath a mask of bleached bone, painted with red lines that did not greatly resemble Adam but which could not but recall him to Sunset's mind nonetheless. Half of its upper body, on the right side, was covered in heavy plates of bone, like a grimm that had decided to concentrate its protection all upon one side: its arm was as thick as a tree trunk and armoured like some ancient crustacean creature; its shoulder, the right side of its chest, it resembled a little pictures of some old Mistralian tournament fighters that had worn a manica on one arm and armour on their right shoulder and covering a part of their chest. Just so this creature, which had concentrated all of its protection in one place, on one side, leaving even half its face unprotected.

The mask of bone that covered one side of its face was fixed, rigid and unmoving, so the thing could only snarl with cold pale lips upon one side of its mouth. "Cinder is mine!"

"But Sunset is not," Cinder declared, seeming to recognise this thing; she stepped between it and Sunset, a glass scimitar appearing in one hand. "She is not yours; you have no claim on her."

The grimm-like creature stared at her for a moment, before the snarl upon its face was replaced by a very Cinder-like smirk of amusement. It slammed its armoured hand down onto the floor of the square in which they stood.

The world collapsed as though it were made of paper, paper torn to shreds as flagstones, walls, doors, all of Mistral came away in rags and patches, collapsing into a dark void that opened up beneath the feet of Sunset and Cinder.

Sunset squawked in alarm as her footing vanished, and she was tumbling head over heels, hair flying around her, tail tickling her legs, falling into darkness with stones and walls and pieces of a Mistral dreamt of flying past like shooting stars.

Cinder was falling too, not tumbling but falling backwards, hair streaming out behind — or in front — of her, arms half-outstretched as though she were tempted to reach for something but at the same time thought better of it.

"Cinder!" Sunset yelled, reaching out to her.

She teleported across the darkness, dodging the falling debris of Cinder's dream that fell around them, stretching out her hand towards her. "Cinder, take my hand!"

Cinder looked at her, face torn between hope and despair, and for a moment, Sunset thought — hoped, for certain — that she would reach out and clasp Sunset's hand and—

Something slammed into her from the sight, knocking her away, sending her cartwheeling through the darkness; she slammed into a falling flagstone and bounced off it to collide with a loose door, a door that opened to let her tumble through it had Sunset not grabbed the frame to hold on by.

The creature had struck her, the grimm, the thing that in parts resembled Cinder and in parts did not; wings had sprouted from its back, black wings like a nevermore's, and it used them to fly through the darkness.

Cinder made no move to resist as it closed its immense, bony hand about her waist and soared off into the darkness.

"No!" Sunset shouted. "Cinder!"

But Cinder was gone. Cinder and the creature that had taken her, both vanished, both disappeared into the blackness.

"Cinder!" Sunset shouted, louder now, shouting to the very limits of her voice, in the hope of some answer from Cinder, some cry that would reveal that she was nearby, if out of sight.

There was no response. Cinder was no longer in this place. That thing — what was it? — had taken her somewhere else within Cinder's mind or soul or whatever amalgamation of the two this was.

But whatever the precise nature of this place, Sunset could move through it just as any monster. She could find Cinder; all she needed to do was … look hard enough, if nothing else. She had found Amber, after all; she could find Cinder too.

Emotional resonance, this was how this place worked. She could find any memory of Cinder's if she could attune herself to the emotion associated with that memory; she could find Cinder if she only willed it so.

Take me to Cinder, Sunset thought, and felt, too, felt with all her heart. I need to go to her, I need to reach her, I need to save her.

The next moment, the dark void was gone, the falling objects gone, all the detritus of Cinder's constructed Mistral vanished. And Sunset was on a train.

Trains I have known, and the bad things that happened to me on board them.

This train was not, thank Celestia, the train from Mountain Glenn on which Sunset had disgraced herself. This train was of a different sort; this train looked very nice, if a little more Atlesian than Sunset might have been expecting. She was on the inside, not the outside, so she couldn't speak for the exterior, but the interior had a sleek look about it, shiny and metallic, with warm blue lights set in the ceiling, and advertising screens set on one wall, each one displaying a flickering image of Pyrrha.

Sunset frowned a little; Pyrrha looked very much like herself, which meant that this was either a recent memory, or else it was another dream of Cinder's.

The image on the displays — on all the displays — flickered for a moment, glitching out before Pyrrha's image was replaced with a picture of Sunset smiling cockily out of every screen.

A dream, then.

The sound of a little girl's laughter drew Sunset's attention, all the more because it was a faintly familiar laugh, albeit not one that she had heard at all often.

Sunset looked away from the screens and ahead of her, to see two people walking down the train corridor: Cinder's father, and running in front of him, Cinder herself.

Cinder, or Ashley as she had been then; Ashley as she had been called, Ashley as she had been. The foolish girl, as Cinder had called her. She did not look foolish, only happy as she skipped and pranced ahead of her father, dressed in a cute little red outfit with a cape that covered most of her upper body and fastened with a bass button at the collar. A red beret sat on her head, and in one hand, she held a candy apple on a stick that was almost as red as her ensemble was. Her father ambled along behind, holding a canvas tote bag lightly in one hand.

Cinder stopped in front of one of the doors that lined the right-hand of the train. Cinder's father took another second to reach it before he fished his scroll out of the breast pocket of his dark grey jacket — he wore a black band around his right arm, and Sunset scarcely needed Cinder's memory to supply the context that this was an indicator of mourning — and used it to open the door.

This was clearly a much better class of train than any that Sunset had been on in the course of her year at Beacon, for on the other side of the door was a full-furnished compartment, complete with bunk beds, a sofa, and a mini fridge, into which Cinder's father began depositing items from his tote bag: sandwiches, fruit juice, a light beer.

This was the kind of train where spies and lovers rendezvoused — or where one of the passengers would turn up dead halfway through the journey. The kind of romantic train that took long journeys through sweeping vistas, like the one that Sunset could see out of the window right now.

She walked into the compartment — it wasn't as though she was going to disturb Ashley and her father, after all — and took a better look out of the window at the view beyond. As she had suspected, they were not only in Anima, but if the mixture of rolling farmland stretching out all around and the mountains looming in the distance were any indication, then this train was bearing them to Mistral.

She knew what this was: when Cinder had been moved to Mistral after her mother's death.

Although those pictures of me and Pyrrha are a bit of an anachronism, aren't they?

Is something interfering with Cinder's memories?

Is Cinder interfering with her own memories?

Sunset looked at her, leaning against the window, letting the rolling fields pass by apace as she regarded the happy girl sitting on the sofa before her.

She had no idea how her life was going to change, and how much for the worse.

Sunset's eyes were drawn towards her father. He couldn't hear her, he couldn't see her, none of this was real, and yet, Sunset was seized with the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him back and forth, to yell 'don't marry that woman! Stay single, for your daughter's sake! Let your wife's memory be your only companion!'

She wondered what would happen if she tried it. Probably, her hands would simply go right through him.

"How much longer until we reach Mistral, Papa?" asked Ashley.

Cinder's father looked around. "Two more days yet, my dear, although we may be able to catch sight of the White Tower out the window before night falls."

Ashley nodded, and her face fell a little.

Cinder's father frowned. "What's the matter?" he asked as he stood up.

Ashley kicked her little legs up and down. "I miss home," she muttered.

The face of Cinder's father fell sympathetically. He sat down on the sofa beside her. "I know," he murmured as he put one arm around her shoulders. "I know that this is difficult. I miss home too. I haven't been back to Mistral in many years."

"Then why are we moving?"

"Because … because I think a fresh start will do us both good," Cinder's father said. "And because I truly believe that you will be very happy in Mistral. It is—"

Sunset turned away and walked out of the carriage. She wasn't in much of a mood to hear Cinder's father tell his little girl all about the glories of old Mistral; not because there weren't any glories but because, knowing what she did, the whole thing would leave a bit of a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

Besides, it wasn't as though she had all the time in the world to soak in Cinder's memories; if she didn't get to Cinder, if she didn't persuade her to let Jaune help boost her aura, then Cinder would die, and all these memories would be lost for good.

The question was, what was Sunset doing on this train, in this memory?

I wanted to be taken to Cinder, and now I'm on a train.

Is the train going to take me to Cinder?

That made a degree of sense. It had a logic to it, and not just dream logic either; it verged on real logic.

Not quite what I had in mind, but okay.

But how? How would the train take her to Cinder? Would it stop somewhere to let Sunset off, and she'd find Cinder waiting for her there? Or should she head towards the front of the train, and she'd find Cinder up there?

Sunset looked out of the window opposite Cinder's compartment. It was beautiful country out there, field after field blossoming with crops ready for the harvest, but there wasn't a station in evidence, and no sign of Mistral, however far away.

And it wasn't as though she could spend two days here in Cinder's memories waiting for this train to reach its destination.

She could either head up to the front of the train, or she could try to get into another of Cinder's memories and hope that the next hop brought her closer to her destination.

I don't want to waste time walking through what's probably a big train for nothing.

But I was brought here for a reason. I didn't end up here randomly.

A screech split the air and interrupted Sunset's thoughts, a screech like the shrieking of a nevermore.

But it was not a nevermore that Sunset could see when she looked out of the window of the train; no, it was the grimm from before, the grimm Cinder or whatever it really was, still with those nevermore-like wings spread out on either side of it, black against the bright blue sky.

The grimm flew swiftly, swooping down and then flitting upwards, disappearing out of sight above the train as it rolled by.

Feathers, dozens of feathers at least, black feathers each as long as a knife, tore through the train ceiling in a barrage that fell all around Sunset, covering the floor all around her, slamming into her, tearing through her aura. Sunset cried out, throwing up her arms to protect her face, then casting a shield around herself, letting even more of the black feathers slam into the green magical barrier, turning to smoke and ashes as soon as they did so.

Sunset looked up as the rain of feathers died down, like a rain passing as the cloud drifts onward. The train roof was full of holes, but it was still difficult to see through; it hadn't been rent so completely that there was simply a hole that she could look up and see her enemy or lack thereof. There were only a great many miniature holes, and Sunset was left to try and work out if she could make out something blocking out the light through some or all of those holes.

She saw the dark shape at the window less than a moment before it slammed through, shattering the glass of the window, tearing through the wall, smashing Sunset's shield as the grimm bodily slammed into Sunset with its armoured shoulder, hurling her backwards into the compartment where Ashley and her father had been.

They were not there now as Sunset hit the far wall, buckling the metal beneath the impact, sending fractures racing up the glass.

The grimm stood before her, its back to the hole in the side of the train that it had made.

Sunset raised her hand and fired several blasts of magic out of her palm, firing them faster than she would have been able to in the waking world, but then this wasn't real, and there weren't any real restrictions that made her choose between power or rate of fire. She hammered the grimm, aiming for the unarmoured part of its body, around the waist, looking to hit it so hard it fell out of the hole in the wall.

It would come back, no doubt, but it would take it a second at least.

The grimm covered itself with its wings as though they were a cloak, shielding itself behind black feathers that soaked up Sunset's magic like rain.

Sunset's eyes narrowed, and she snapped her fingers.

Just as in Amber's mind or soul, the grimm that stood before her was consumed with fire.

In this place, Sunset was much more powerful than she was ordinarily.

Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever this grimm was, it was rather powerful here too; it didn't seem to feel the flames, it didn't cry out in pain, it didn't scream or shriek or thrash wildly to put the fires out. It just stood there, letting the red and gold flames leap up and down its black and partially bone-covered frame, letting them flicker upon flesh and feather and bone alike. It bore the fires without comment, until it took a step forward and stepped out of the flames, which died behind it into a smouldering patch on the floor.

"You can't hurt me," the grimm said in a raspy voice. "This place is mine." It held out one hand, its left hand, the hand that wasn't covered in bone armour, and a red sword appeared in its grasp.

Adam's red sword, looking as red as blood and as hungry as ever.

"But we can hurt you, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset couldn't take her eyes off that red sword as she scrambled upright. Though she tried to look away, to focus her attention upon the face of her enemy, her eyes kept on being drawn back to that red sword. "How did you—?"

"You left some of yourself behind when you were here last," the grimm declared. "And though you're trying to keep yourself to yourself, parts of you are leaking out even now."

"What are you?" Sunset demanded, before the question began to answer itself inside her mind. She had seen Cinder's attack on Amber; she'd seen it in Amber's own memories when she had revived her: Cinder had used some sort of grimm; it had looked like a bug, but it had turned into … it had fused Cinder and Amber together, forming a conduit for Cinder to steal Amber's magic. That was what had given Amber that scar on her face. Part of it, part of the essence of the grimm, had been left in Amber when the transfer was interrupted; it had been part of what was slowly killing her, until Sunset had killed it instead.

The rest…

"You're the grimm," Sunset said. "You're the grimm that fused with Cinder to attack Amber. You didn't look like the talking type before."

"I've been with Cinder for some time," the grimm explained. "I have adjusted."

"If she dies," Sunset said. "You'll die too, won't you?"

"Destruction is the natural end of all things," the grimm answered. "And besides, she is a traitor and a failure, and she must be punished. I will not let you save her. I will not let you take her from me!"

"And I won't ask your permission," Sunset muttered as she went on the attack.

Pyrrha's weapons were in her hands, summoned by Sunset's thought, and Pyrrha's movements guided her arms and legs as she spun on her toes, hair flying around her, and tossed Akoúo̱ through the air towards the grimm's head. If the distance had been longer, the grimm might have had time to block the shield or otherwise respond, but this close to one another, there wasn't time, and Akoúo̱ slammed into the grimm's head, half striking the bone mask, half the pale, Cinder-like visage. Either way, the grimm recoiled a step closer to the hole in the wall, its head snapping backwards. Sunset advanced as Akoúo̱ bounced back onto her waiting arm. The grimm slashed wildly with Adam's red sword, but Sunset parried the stroke with Miló in sword mode, turning the blade aside before switching to spear mode and thrusting Miló forward towards the grimm's chest. The thrust struck the bony armour of the grimm where it covered one side, but it still had enough force to send the grimm reeling back again; there was a bang and a blast from the spearbutt as Miló extended outwards an extra foot, knocking the grimm backwards so that it teetered on the edge, poised to plummet from the hole it had so recently made for its grand entrance.

Sunset spun in place once more, Miló twirling a red-gold circle in her hand as she cut the grimm's narrow legs out from under it, then hurled Akoúo̱ into its face a second time to knock it clean out of the train and into the air beyond.

The grimm screeched wordlessly, its dark wings spreading out on either side as it soared up over the train once again.

Sunset's imagination conjured Rainbow's wings onto her back, and she could use them without effort as she leapt out of the train herself, the metallic wings unfurling with a sequence of clicks and clanks, the jetpack roaring as mere thoughts guided her upwards and onto the train roof.

The Wings of Harmony disappeared into nothingness, but Sunset's footing on the flat roof of the train remained stable as Distant Thunder appeared in her hands.

She had seen it penetrate more armour than safeguarded this grimm.

Sunset watched the grimm in the skies of Cinder's memory, too black to blend in against this cloudless sky. She raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder and looked — a little awkwardly; she wasn't used to sniper rifles — down the scope towards her target.

She could see it clearly now, through the scope of Ciel's rifle, presenting its unarmoured side towards her.

Sunset pulled the trigger. This Distant Thunder of the mind didn't kick like she suspected the real thing did, but so long as it hit home with the same force.

The grimm parried the shot with Adam's red blade, and then suddenly, it was bearing down upon her, and that sword, that bloody sword, was starting to glow.

Sunset worked the bolt, just as Ciel did, expelling one round and chambering another; she fired again and again and again, and each time, the grimm parried the shot, taking the round with the sword, that dread sword, that awful sword just kept on glowing brighter and brighter.

The wound on Sunset's stomach, the scar that Adam had given her aboard a less well-appointed train than this, began to ache.

Distant Thunder melted away in Sunset's hands as the grimm landed heavily upon the train roof. The visible half of its face wore a triumphant smirk as it drew back the blade.

The world transformed. Cinder's memory, much abused from what it had been already, turned all to red and black, all save for the grimm, which had been mostly black to start with.

The sword glowed an even brighter and a bloodier red as the grimm swept forward, sword drawn back for a slashing stroke that would slice Sunset in half.

The red sword cut forward, slicing through the air, slicing through Sunset, passing out the other side.

As Sunset transformed into a mound of ice that expanded outwards, trapping the grimm's unarmoured arm from the wrist up to beyond the elbow.

The grimm snarled in anger as Sunset descended on it from above, Blake's cleaver gripped tightly in both hands.

She slashed downwards to sever the grimm's arm just below the shoulder.

The grimm turned, smashing through the ice to send shards flying everywhere across the train roof, turning to present its armoured, bone-encrusted arm to Sunset, taking the blow upon it. Blake's cleaver scraped harmlessly off the bone before disappearing from Sunset's hand.

She teleported back a few feet, then grabbed the grimm in the grip of her telekinesis, lifting it up off the ground and holding it in place.

The grimm struggled, it struggled very hard, Sunset could feel it thrashing against her grip, pushing with arms and legs and wings all to break her embrace; she responded by tightening her grip on it, but that didn't stop it from resisting.

But Sunset had more power in this world than in the real one, and she wasn't going to let go just because it really wanted her to.

She would end up letting go when she left here, because she couldn't stay. This train might have taken her to Cinder, but she didn't have time to wait, and she didn't have time to fight this grimm all night. She needed to speed things up. Where would Cinder go?

No, wrong question, Sunset realised as she looked up at the trashing grimm in her telekinetic embrace. The question was, where had it taken her?

Sunset looked up into the grimm's eyes, into the red eyes that burned in that pallid face and in that painted mask, and she knew, she knew where Cinder was.

The pantry of the Kommenos house was dark; it was the dead of night, after all, and the lady of the house was asleep upstairs, along with one of her daughters.

Her other daughter was prowling about the pantry, Phoebe Kommenos all clad in her armour. Except it wasn't the Phoebe that Sunset remembered from the last time she'd been inside Cinder's soul and seen this memory, no; this was the Phoebe that she had known at Beacon; Phoebe was grown. Phoebe as she had died, for she would not live to be old now.

Phoebe was grown up, but she still acted as she had done in Cinder's memory of that awful night, prowling through the kitchen, chanting that ditty as she searched for Cinder, drawn inexorably towards the cupboard where Sunset knew that Cinder was hiding.

"Cinder?" Sunset murmured, feeling as though she should be quiet, even though there was no reason why she should be. "Cinder, are you there?" She had been certain that this was where Cinder would be, cast into her worst memory, forced to observe her torment, but there was no sign of her here. Sunset wondered if she might be hiding in the dark, hoping to avoid seeing what was happening, but even with her nightvision spell on, Sunset couldn't find her anywhere.

The only person here was Phoebe as she slunk like a cat towards Cinder's cupboard.

Phoebe flung open the door, and there was Cinder, not the child, but the girl grown, Cinder as Sunset knew her, the same Cinder who had been carried away.

This was where the grimm had left her, not forced to watch, forced to experience, forced to relive in her last moments as her life blood ebbed away.

"Close your eyes, don't look up," Phoebe whispered. "Here comes a monster to gobble you up."

Cinder cried out as Phoebe laid her hands upon her, dragging her out of the cupboard, ignoring Cinder's fists upon her, her kicking feet; Cinder's blows should have sent her flying across the room, but instead, Phoebe didn't seem to feel them at all, as though Cinder were nothing more than an infant compared to her. She hauled Cinder out onto the floor and—

"That's enough!" Sunset snapped.

They both stopped. Cinder looked at her with amber eyes wide with surprise. Phoebe looked at her too, though in her face, there was more confusion than anything else.

"Sunset Shimmer," she growled.

"Everyone knows who I am around here," Sunset muttered. Her voice rose as she said, "Leave her alone."

Phoebe laughed that annoying simpering laugh as she straightened up. "Are you going to make me, Sunset? Are you going to take a stand on behalf of this—?"

Sunset rolled her eyes as she fired a bolt of magic at her.

Phoebe might have been Cinder's nightmare, and in Cinder's nightmare, that fear might have made her strong, inviolate, invincible in ways that she had never been in life, but she certainly wasn't Sunset's nightmare; as far as Sunset was concerned, Phoebe Kommenos had just been an entitled no mark who knew that she wasn't nearly as good as she wanted to be; that was why she'd paid someone to face Sunset on her behalf instead of doing it herself. Sunset was not afraid of her, and her magical blast struck Phoebe square in the chest and shattered her like glass.

For a moment, it seemed like the pieces, the million shards of Phoebe, would rain down upon Cinder from above, but instead, they disappeared ere they had begun to fall, vanishing as if they and she had never been.

There was no stirring from above; there was only Cinder, and Sunset, alone in the pantry.

For a moment, there was silence. Cinder lay on the floor, staring up at Sunset.

When she spoke, it was only to whisper, "Sunset?"

Sunset smiled. "Who else?"

Cinder didn't smile; instead, she rolled over onto her other side, her back to Sunset. "You shouldn't be here," she muttered.

Sunset put her hands on her hips. "Why not? Should I leave you alone so you can die in peace?" She cast her eyes across the kitchen, her gaze alighting upon a Pyrrha figure sitting on the kitchen table. "Can I just ask, what's with all the Pyrrha stuff? She didn't look like that when you were young, and I can't imagine Phoebe had her merchandise in the house."

"I'm trying to leave her the Maiden powers, you idiot!" Cinder snapped, half rolling over so that she could glare at Sunset as she said it. "I'm trying to keep Pyrrha in my mind so that the magic will transfer to her when I…" She turned away once more. "Now, if you don't mind, you're disturbing my concentration."

"How much concentrating were you getting done a moment ago?" Sunset asked.

Cinder was silent for a moment. "I'm very grateful," she said. "But nevertheless … you can't stay here. It isn't safe. And I won't be able to think about Pyrrha while you're hanging around."

Sunset ignored her. She walked around Cinder, crouching down so that she was closer to Cinder's level as she lay on the floor. That still left Sunset somewhat above Cinder, looking down on her, so Sunset got down on her side, lying opposite Cinder, face to face as though they were two best friends at a slumber party, about to share the secrets of which boys they liked.

Or whatever girls talked about at slumber parties; nobody had ever invited Sunset.

Cinder looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement in her expression but not, thankfully, any irritation that Sunset couldn't make out. Her brow wasn't even furrowed.

"So that's why you asked about Amber earlier," Sunset said. "You wanted to know who the next in line to be Fall Maiden was." She paused for a moment. "Why do you care about making sure that Pyrrha gets the magic?"

"I'm trying to do the right thing," Cinder murmured. "I stole this power. I wasn't supposed to have it. And I certainly wouldn't be allowed to keep it. I can't."

"I'm not sure how important the Fall Maiden is anymore, now that the Relic is gone," Sunset replied softly. "And I'm not sure I want Pyrrha to have this power. I'm not sure I want her to have the burden that comes with it."

"Will the burden be so great, now that the Relic is gone?" asked Cinder. "Pyrrha will not be hunted, not the way that Amber was hunted. Salem has no need of the Fall Maiden now, except in the sense that a Maiden and its magic is a good and useful thing to have in one’s possession, to send into battle against the other Maidens whose powers are still required."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds like a life of ease," Sunset muttered sarcastically.

Cinder snorted. "Does Pyrrha want it?"

Sunset hesitated. "I don't—"

"Be honest," Cinder urged.

Sunset huffed. "Yes. Yes, I think she does. I think she'd take it, if it was offered. She wants to feel—"

"Special—"

"Useful," Sunset corrected.

Cinder was silent for a second or two. "It's not my power," she said. "It's not my power, and I don't want it. This is … this is me being virtuous. Some little good I mean to do before the end, for you and yours whom I have … to whom I have done ill in the past. This is … call it my apology gift."

Now, it was Sunset's turn to momentarily fall silent. "I thought this was just Mistralian nonsense," she confessed.

Cinder gave a close-mouthed smile, the corners of her lips turning upwards. "Well," she said. "That too. When the Emperor Odysseus was defeated at the Battle of Four Sovereigns—"

"He surrendered," Sunset pointed out. "He gave up his crown!"

"And was taken to the island of Vytal to sign the treaty that would end the war," Cinder went on. "After he had signed, he retired to his room and asked for a pen, paper, and a glass of water. He wrote two letters, one to his wife and one to his last surviving son. Then he stabbed himself in the neck with the pen; he was found dead the next morning."

"A dear happiness to his son, I'm sure," Sunset muttered dryly. "A dead father to go along with a raft of dead brothers and a dead sister too, but, oh, it was so noble, so brave, he must have been overjoyed to be blessed with so admirable a paragon to look up to. In spirit, of course, since he was no longer to be looked up to in person."

"You sound like Emerald," Cinder said.

"Then Emerald sounds very sensible," Sunset replied.

The smile returned to Cinder's face, a little diminished from what it had been before. "This is the right thing to do," she said softly.

"Some people would say that leaving Pyrrha down in the Vault so you could stop Salem getting the Relic would have been the right thing to do," Sunset pointed out. "There are a lot of possible right things, depending on who you ask and how you look at things."

"Alright then this is a right thing to do," Cinder said. "It is the right thing to do that I choose … to do."

Sunset frowned. "If … if you weren't the Fall Maiden," she said. "If you didn't have this magic that you wanted to be rid of, would you still want this?"

The ground began to rumble and shake once more, the whole house shuddering, the pots and pans upon the wall rattling and clanging together; the walls groaned and the wind outside howled.

Sunset scowled. So, it’s like that, is it?

She leapt to her feet with the sort of athletic grace that she never would have mustered in the real world, and as the grimm descended through the ceiling, she had already conjured up a shield around herself and Cinder to protect them both from the storm of feathers that shot from its wings.

The grimm landed upon her shield feet first, pounding down upon the green barrier with its thick, armoured fist. Cracks appeared in the magic as Sunset was driven to her knees.

The grimm raised its fist again.

Sunset let the shield explode outwards, the shockwave scattering the furniture around the room and tossing the grimm backwards, slamming it into the far wall hard enough to shatter plaster.

The grimm was on its feet in less than a moment, the visible part of its face scowling and snarling.

“She. Is. Mine!”

“No!” Sunset snapped. “No, she isn’t. Not anymore.”

The grimm’s red eyes flashed, and it bared its teeth at her as it pointed that red sword, Adam’s sword, straight for her heart.

Sunset grinned as her hand glowed green with telekinesis, yanking the sword out of the grimm’s black hand and carrying it through the pantry into Sunset’s outstretched grasp.

Sunset glanced down at it. This sword had been the stuff of her nightmares, a fearsome sword in the hands of a fearsome man. This sword had wounded her, this sword had almost killed Ruby, this sword had haunted her even after Adam’s death.

This sword was terror incarnate, and yet, it was also a blade that she had dreamed of possessing. She had wanted this moment, in the real world, wide awake; she had planned for the day when she would lay Adam low and take his blade as a trophy of her victory, indisputable proof of her triumph over him.

She had meant not only to kill him but to humiliate him from beyond the grave, and flaunt the deed to all the world.

The actual manner of her victory, if it deserved the name, had rather put her off the idea; she didn’t know where the real sword was now, but in this place, at this moment, her old desire was at last fulfilled.

The smile remained on Sunset’s face as she looked back up from the sword and into the dead face of the grimm.

“You told me that I couldn’t hurt you,” Sunset said, as the red sword began to glow in her hands. She swept the red blade back, poised to strike as its glow became brighter and brighter, more and more vividly red until it was the brightest light in this pantry by far. “But I believe that this sword can cut through anything,” she tightened her grip on the sword. “So why don’t we see who’s right?”

Sunset charged, not giving the grimm a chance to answer. She charged, and as she charged, she felt the power of this sword, the power as she imagined it, the power that had terrified and wounded her, erupt from out of the blood red blade.

The world turned red. Only the grimm was as black as ever, blacker still, for even its white bone was black now, black against the blood red that the world had become. Sunset felt herself moving slowly, as though she were trapped in treacle, but if it were so, then the grimm was trapped there too, moving even more sluggishly than she was.

Slowly, achingly slowly, the grimm brought up its bone-armoured arm to defend itself.

Just as seeming-slowly, Sunset closed the distance, bringing the red sword upwards in a diagonal slashing stroke.

It pierced the armour of bleached bone, it cut through black flesh and dark feathers, it sliced clean through the grimm as though it were made of mist or fog.

And then the colours, what little colour remained in the world, began to return to normal as Sunset emerged on the other side of the bisected grimm, the grimm that was turning to smoke and ashes behind her.

Sunset glanced down at the sword from which all light was gone. That had taken too long; that sloth, it … it seemed as though it was intended to give the bearer of the blade time to appreciate, to savour, the shock of his intended target, their fear, their helplessness.

Sunset was left feeling that it was a good thing she had left the sword under Mountain Glenn. She wanted no part in such a weapon.

It had served its purpose, and now, it disappeared, dismissed by her mind, never to return.

Sunset turned back to Cinder, who was sitting up on the floor, looking at her.

"Show off."

"You're welcome," Sunset muttered as she walked back across a kitchen now strewn untidily with broken furniture. She stepped over a broken chair before standing over Cinder. She held out one hand to her. "Come back with me."

Cinder looked away from her. "You are cruel to tempt me." She looked up. "I cannot. You know I cannot; I have explained—"

"But if you could," Sunset insisted. "If you could, you never answered my question: if you didn't have the Maiden powers, if the Fall Maiden was not at issue, then would you … would you come back? Would you live?" She paused. "You're free of the grimm now, it's gone; the corruption that Salem—"

"I did that to myself; nobody compelled me," Cinder pointed out mildly.

"Either way," Sunset went on quickly. "It's gone now, dead and gone, and … if you came back, if you lived, if you stopped suppressing your own aura while your life blood ebbs away, then you could feel all that was lost to you. You could … you could taste ice cream, burn your tongue with a too-hot coffee — and you probably would, from not knowing any better at first." She smiled hopefully down at her. Sunset crouched; with Cinder sitting, this alone was enough to put them on something like a level. "All things that have been lost, you can reclaim, both small things and the larger too, if you wish. So do you? Is it to rid yourself of the Maiden powers that brings you to this point, or is it something else? Do you truly desire to find out what, if anything, lies in the life to come?"

Cinder looked at her silently for a moment. "What do you think is there?"

"Nothing," Sunset said at once.

"Comforting," Cinder murmured. She paused. "Whether it is as bleak as you propose or whether my soul will flee in sorrow down to the shades in Erech's dominion or aught else, I … if I were not the Fall Maiden, if I did not have this magic that was not mine … I will not live only to be caged and put to death at someone else's pleasure. I will not. I would rather choose the time and place of my own passing."

"That won't happen," Sunset told her. "I won't let that happen."

Cinder snorted. "You condemn me to prison one day and promise the next that you will not suffer it a second time?"

"Considering what happened the first time," Sunset murmured, shifting her shoulders uncomfortably. "That was … I offered you once before my help, my aid; I do so again now, if you will only take it."

"In your world?"

"Or in this," Sunset said. "There is less reason not to stay here; you're free of the grimm now; there's nothing more that Equestrian magic could do for you."

Cinder nodded slightly. "This … it is fun being alive in the same world as you, and at the same time," she admitted. "But this is philosophical discourse: if you could, if you weren't, would you then? I cannot, I am, I must. I am the Fall Maiden, and unless you have some power in your bag of tricks that will let you whisk that magic away from me, which I doubt, then the only way for me to be rid of it … the only way for me to give back what I stole and in the giving … one cannot be pardoned and retain the offence." She closed her eyes. "I am grateful that you have freed me from that darkness, and for all your other kindnesses and good services in the time that we have known one another. You have been more true to me than I have deserved, and I am sorry that I must refuse you a second time, but … honour pricks me on."

"Honour pricks you off, you mean," Sunset replied. "Ere you have a chance to come on absent all your chains."

The corners of Cinder's lips twitched upwards. "Either way," she allowed. "In this, my mind is set, Sunset, and my will is armour proof even against your inducements."

"Because you are the Fall Maiden?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Cinder answered. "Because the Red Queen would lay aside her bloody crown, whatever the consequence."

Sunset nodded. "Very well," she whispered. "I wish I could say that I admire your courage, but … I know that I should admire it, that if I were a Mistralian, I doubtless would admire it, but to be frank, the more I learn about Mistralian culture, the more I am reminded that it is not my culture, that I am an alien and a stranger to it, that much though I might admire the beauty of its shining towers—"

"It will never be your home," Cinder finished for her.

"I think not," Sunset agreed. "Nevertheless, if you are set in this, then … very well. I shall say no more." She got up. "But why don't we go somewhere more comfortable than this?"

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Go? Go … together?"

Sunset shrugged. "You didn't think I was just going to leave you alone to sit here while the dark closed in around you, did you?"

Cinder blinked rapidly. "Yes," she said bluntly. "Yes, I rather thought you might because you must. You must go, Sunset, you can't stay here, I'm dying. I'm dying, and this place … this place will disappear, and I will depart, and you … do you know what will happen to you if you're still here when the lights go out?"

"No," Sunset confessed.

"Neither do I, but I can't imagine it’s pleasant," Cinder murmured. Her voice rose as she went on, "Not to mention the fact that I won't be able to think of Pyrrha with you around."

"Why, thank you."

"Sunset," Cinder said firmly. "I am in earnest."

"So am I," Sunset told her. In earnest, and in cunning too, I hope. "I won't leave you. And do you really want to die alone? Are you going to sit here and tell me that?"

Cinder was silent for a moment, and then a moment more. "I would be glad of your company—"

"Then you shall have it."

"But—"

"No buts," Sunset insisted. "No protestations; this is my price for ceasing to badger you upon your choice."

Once more, Cinder hesitated. Then she quirked one eyebrow upwards. "Somewhere more comfortable, you say?" She smiled, and held out one hand. "Where did you have in mind?"

Sunset's fingers closed around Cinder's hand, and then in a thought, they were in the A & P ice cream café.

Another Sunset, and another Cinder, were just coming in through the door; Sunset was carrying a bag slung over her shoulder with the books that they might need for their assignment. Cinder carried very little by comparison.

"I question why we're here," the other Cinder, the Cinder of memory, said as they walked in.

"Here?" asked Cinder, present Cinder, the real Cinder, as she looked around. "This place."

"It's more comfortable than Lady Kommenos's kitchen, don't you think?" asked Sunset. "And besides, we had a good time here, didn't we?"

Cinder glanced at her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think we did." She looked around the café, and the interior wall with its painting of the Valish skyline in silhouette was instantly covered with a raft of posters of Pyrrha, posters that looked almost but not quite like official Vytal tournament posters. Whether that was because Cinder couldn't remember them quite right or she was intentionally making changes, Sunset couldn't have said.

She wasn't sure it really mattered.

Telekinetically, she pushed out a couple of chairs at a table directly under one of the Pyrrha posters, so that she was looking down on them almost as the statue had in Cinder's dream when Sunset had first entered her mind.

Cinder sat down, her hands resting lightly upon the table top. Sunset did likewise.

She couldn't help but glance over Cinder's shoulder at the other them, the memories of them, where they sat near the window. She watched as the other Sunset approached the counter to order.

Cinder followed Sunset's gaze, though with her back to the memories, she had to twist around in her seat to do it.

"You know," she said, "with the benefit of hindsight, I really wasn't being very subtle, was I?"

"Hmm?" Sunset asked.

"The Infinite Man," Cinder explained. "Talking about the Circle and the parallels with Beacon and Atlas, my whole manner. I might as well have been daring you to notice that I was more than what I seemed, that I had ulterior motives and dark intentions."

"You were too subtle for me," Sunset said.

"Yes, well," Cinder murmured. "There are some responses that I could give you to that, but you've been very good to me, so I'll refrain."

"I appreciate that," Sunset muttered. "In my defence, if you didn't already know about Salem and all the rest, who would suspect that there would be enemies within the school, infiltrators, people seeking to bring it down? To what end?"

"I'm sure someone could think of a reason," Cinder answered. "But I take your point; you had no cause to suspect that I was other than I appeared to be." She paused. "I was in part what I appeared to be; this wasn't a lie. There were lies told, I own that, but … the mask I wore did not prevent you seeing my face, or part of it, at least."

"I know," Sunset told her. "If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't—"

The lights went out. The daylight outside the window of the café turned pitch black, not to night but to black, as though this was a stage set and all the lights had been turned off and backgrounds dismantled and they were done for the day.

The other Sunset and Cinder, of memory, had disappeared. A & P was dark too; Sunset could barely see Cinder sitting on the other side of the table from her.

"Cinder?" Sunset asked, softly, gently, warily; fearfully, for all that she could guess what was happening.

"Cold," Cinder whispered. "So cold and…" Her words trailed off, but her breathing could still be heard; shallow breaths, coming faster and faster.

"I'm here," Sunset said, reaching across the table, placing a hand on top of Cinder's. "I'm right here, Cinder; I'm not going anywhere."

Cinder looked for a moment as though she wished Sunset would, but she didn't ask Sunset to go, she didn't make any gesture that indicated that she should, and the look that Sunset had seen in her eyes for a moment swiftly disappeared. Cinder tried to look away, towards the poster of Pyrrha on the … the poster that had been on the wall but was gone now. Along with the wall itself. They were sitting not only in the dark, but increasingly, it felt like they were sitting in a void. Sunset wondered how long it would be until the floor itself gave way beneath them.

She clasped Cinder's hand about the wrist, because if she let go of her, then this would all be for nothing.

Cinder toppled forwards, falling off her seat. Sunset rose, or rather launched herself off her chair; she ended up on her knees, catching Cinder as she fell, wrapping her arms around, pressing her head into Cinder's shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered, as though there was anything in the darkness that she should fear to hear them. "It's okay, Cinder, I'm here, I've got you."

Cinder didn't speak. She made a wordless sound, too faint to make out except that it was a sound. She tried to put her arms around Sunset in turn; Sunset could feel a hand upon her back, but its touch was faint, so faint.

And then it fell away, both her hands falling down to her sides, hanging listlessly, knuckles scraping on the ground.

Except there was no ground. As Cinder's head lolled, the last vestige of the ice cream café disappeared, and once more, Sunset was falling through a dark void.

But this time, she had hold of Cinder, and she kept a hold of Cinder as they fell, gently turning, through the darkness.

Cinder made a sound, a sound maybe like a sob or a gasp, the last gasp as the spirit flees, and Sunset … Sunset's eyes were beginning to grow a little heavy, her eyelids drooping, but she could see a light, a light coming from close by, a light coming from Cinder, from out of her eyes and her mouth, pushing up out of her chest up between Sunset and Cinder like water finding cracks in a wall golden light emerging out of her. For a moment, it hovered gently above the two of them as they fell, ribbons of light dancing in place, swirling around one another.

Then they dove down through the darkness towards Sunset.

Well, that didn't go as— Sunset's thoughts were interrupted as the ribbons of light struck her, blinding her eyes, stuffing her mouth, dancing through the cracks once more to enter her chest like an arrow to the heart. Sunset's body jerked, her back contorted; it was all that she could do to keep her grip on Cinder as she fought the urge to throw her arms on either side of her.

She didn't. She kept hold of Cinder as they floated lazily through the black and empty void, although it wasn't darkness in front of Sunset's eyes now; it was light, blinding light, pure light.

Light and faces. She could see Amber; she could see countless other faces flying past her, surrounding her; she could feel pride and hope and love and fear and hate. She could feel pain. She could feel so much pain. But so much kindness too.

She could see a girl, a girl who looked just like the statue in the Vault when Amber had shown them.

"My name is Fall," she said. "I am on a journey, and I am here to meet with my sisters."

She could see Cinder, standing in front of her with her arms folded across her chest.

"You know, if you wanted me to leave you the magic, then you could have just asked," she said.

"I don't want to be the Fall Maiden," Sunset said.

"Nevertheless, you appear to have become just that," Cinder pointed out.

"Trust me," Sunset urged. "This is all part of the plan."

Cinder raised one sceptical eyebrow.

"This is mostly part of the plan," Sunset corrected herself. "Just … trust me, okay? I think I know what I'm doing."

And then the light was gone, and Cinder with it; at least, a Cinder was gone; Cinder was still there, still in Sunset's arms, still falling with her.

But Sunset's arms were growing colder. The longer they fell, the deeper they fell, the weaker that Sunset felt. It was so cold in here, as cold as the Atlesian ice fields; well, maybe not that cold, but it was pretty cold all the same. Cold, cold, her limbs were dissolving in cold.

The limbs of Juturna were dissolved in cold, and her soul fled in anger down to the shades.

Was that where they were going? Was there something waiting for them after all?

If there was, then Sunset didn't expect to see it. She could barely keep her eyes open. She felt cold. Cold and weary. Her head nodded forwards, and she started with a jerk every time she almost fell asleep but did not. Saliva gathered in her mouth and threatened to drip down her chin, and the fact that there was no one around to see it didn't make it any less disgusting.

But really, what was she staying awake for? What was she fighting to keep her eyes open for? Hadn't this been part … part of … hadn't she…?

Pyrrha. I have to think about Pyrrha.

I have to manage this. I can't mess this up.

Sunset filled her head with thoughts of Pyrrha; Pyrrha fighting in the school amphitheatre — Sunset didn't think about who she was fighting, just Pyrrha's own displays of skill and athleticism — Pyrrha sitting on the roof with her after their fight, Pyrrha in some of her beautiful dresses, Pyrrha, Pyrrha.

Pyrrha asleep, where Sunset ought to be. Pyrrha curled up before the fire, where Sunset would like to be. Pyrrha warm and awake, while Sunset felt so cold and so very tired.

Sunset's eyes closed, and her head nodded lazily forward, until it was resting upon Cinder's shoulder, just as Cinder's shoulder was resting upon hers.

Her dark eyes saw no light.

And then, all of a sudden, there was whiteness once again.

A white void, and Pyrrha.

Pyrrha looked around, brow furrowed with confusion. "Hello? Jaune? Penny? Is anyone—?" She made a gasping squeaking sound when she saw Sunset. "Sunset? What… how … you were … what's going on?"

"You might call it destiny," Sunset said. "Or you might not, since you haven't been as active about this as your definition might require … to be truthful, I'm not altogether certain if my people would call it destiny either, but they might. Someone would, I'm sure. Professor Ozpin, perhaps; I'm not sure what his views were on the subject, if he had any."

Pyrrha blinked. "I don't understand."

"You're the Fall Maiden now, I'm pretty sure," Sunset said. "Congratulations. Although some commiserations may be in order too. Not too many, I hope."

Pyrrha stared at her, mouth agape. She took a step forward, then seemed to think better of it and take a step back. She looked down at her hand, then looked at Sunset. "I … what does this mean? Are you—?"

"Well," Sunset said. "I was hoping that Jaune would get this, but since you're here, I'll tell you to be sure: I need Jaune to leave Cinder alone and start boosting my aura right now."

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine," Sunset said. "Don't worry about Cinder; she … I've got this figured out, but I need Jaune's help, do you understand?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I do." She shook her head. "Well, not really, but I will convey your message faithfully."

"Thank you," Sunset said. "I'm counting on you."

We both are.

And then the white was gone, and Pyrrha was gone, and there was only darkness.

Darkness, and something within the darkness. There was a sound like running water, like a river flowing by, perhaps, a river that Sunset couldn't see. She couldn't see much of anything, just … it took a moment to realise what it was. A gate. A gate of ivory, luminous in the dark, a white archway fashioned out of two enormous tusks tied together at the top, adorned here and there with bands of gold and with some darker things besides, bonds hanging from the ivory on thin, tense strings.

The gate grew larger. Sunset and Cinder were falling towards it, being drawn towards it, being pulled in like bits of food scrubbed from the plate during the washing up, slowly circling the drain, drawn inexorably down towards the plughole.

The gate grew close and closer, and what might wait upon the other side?

But then there was light within the darkness, light coming from behind them. Golden light. A hand of gold, a fisherman's net of gold, an all-encompassing blanket of gold, golden light rushing downwards through the darkness to wrap around Sunset.

It draped across her shoulders, it covered her legs, her arms, her body, and as she was embracing Cinder, so the golden light embraced her too, lapping at the edges of Cinder's red dress, washing up and down her shoulders.

It felt warm. It felt warm, and it felt like gentle raindrops pattering upon her; it felt like a refreshing shower after a long day, this light, these sunbeams dancing over her.

Sunset herself pulled up by the light. She rose, and Cinder rose in her embrace, the two of them rising together, the gate of ivory growing smaller and smaller in Sunset's eyes, fading from view, just as the darkness itself began to fade as they rose, driven off by this golden light.

Sunset Shimmer opened her eyes, gasping for breath.

She was lying on the grass on the cliffs at Beacon. She heard someone gasp and then cry out in joy.

Penny. That had been Penny's voice, she was sure of it.

Cinder lay next to her. Sunset's hand was still upon her cheek, and the light of Jaune's semblance was covering not only Sunset but washing through her arm and hand across Cinder's face and down her body also.

Cinder's eyes flickered open.

Sunset sighed with relief; she would have sagged with relief if that had been possible while lying on her side. "Hey," she whispered.

Cinder frowned. "I … this doesn't look like the world of the shades."

"No," Sunset said. "No, I don't believe it is."

Cinder tried to sit up, only for a cry of pain to tear from her lips.

"Gently," Jaune said. "Maybe give your aura a little time to heal your injury first."

Cinder looked down to see the wound that she had made in her own abdomen, the blood staining her dress. "Ah, yes," she murmured. "Yes, that…" Her words dissolved into a moaning sigh as she flopped down onto the ground on her back once again.

"Welcome back," Sunset said.

Cinder glanced at her. "It's gone."

"The magic?" Sunset asked.

Cinder nodded. "I don't feel it anymore." She hesitated. "You—"

"No," Sunset said. "Not me." She looked upwards, turning her head and her eyes towards Pyrrha, where she stood over them.

She stood over them as her statue had, as her poster had looked down on them in the café — almost, at least; neither statue nor poster had required help to stand — and around both her eyes burned bright red flaming corona.

The corona of the Fall Maiden.

Author's Note

Woohoo!

Over one million words and fifteen months after I started and the first half (I use the word half rather loosely, I have no idea how long the next bit will turn out to be, just that this is the end of a distinct section of the story) of this fic is done!

When I started this, driven by little more than a desire to write a fic where Pyrrha didn’t die, I had no idea that this was going to turn into both the longest thing that I had ever written but also, in my opinion, the best thing that I’ve written to date.

Thank you all for sticking with me this far. I know that I haven’t always pleased all of you, but I’d like to think that I’ve pleased most of you most of the time.

I don’t intend to stop writing this story, however I do intend to slow down a little at this point. I’ve been writing this near-exclusively for the last year, and I don’t want to keep up with that, so expect the writing speed to slow down from 1-2 chapters a week to something more like 1 chapter every 2 weeks to allow me to spend some time on other things besides this.

Thank you, once again.

Rewrite Notes: Wow, looking at this author's note brings back some nostalgia.

In terms of changes... a lot has changed here, including the chapter title, mostly because the whole thing has been rewritten.

The biggest change that I regret is losing the Friendship Games rip-off ending with Sunset becoming Daydream Shimmer, but a) it was a rip-off of the climax of Friendship Games and b) I'm not sure it made a ton of sense even the first time, although doubtless it was viscerally satisfying.

Something that I quite like here is the way that this puts a cap on Sunset's story as well as Cinder's, as she overcomes her vestigial fear of Adam and, in fact, turns that fear against her enemy to save Cinder.

I also like that this version of the chapter has a lot more grounding in the relationship that Sunset and Cinder have had throughout the story, culminating in returning to the scene of their ~~first date~~ study session before they both 'die'.

Hopefully you remember a few chapters back, in Ozpin's Stand, Ozpin remembers a previous Maiden who drowned herself but was revived by a knight, thus passing the Maiden powers on. That was set up for this moment, as a way of transferring the powers away from Cinder. It's very similar to the end of Season 1 of Buffy, except that you can't game the Maiden powers into having two Fall Maidens.

When I wrote the original version of this chapter I was not at all sure who would end up with the Fall Maiden powers; I seriously considered having Sunset keep them, since she was the embodiment of choice in the story and Fall is associated with Choice. The decision to bestow them on Pyrrha instead in the wake of a degree of backlash meant that the execution was a bit shoddy but here, with the intent much clearer, it all flows much better I think (or hope).

Unlike previously, this isn't quite the end, there are 1 or 2 chapters left to come going up Friday and maybe Monday.

All Roads, Part 1 (New)

All Roads, Part 1

Rainbow stared.

"So," she said.

Gilda stared right back at her.

"So," she replied.

Rainbow didn't say anything else for a second. She was aware of the eyes upon her: not just Gilda, but Blake, Lady Belladonna, and Twilight, who was standing to the side and sort of between the two of them.

Her hands were clasped together above her heart as she looked from one to the other and back.

Nobody spoke. It was like they were all waiting on her.

They were all waiting on her.

Everyone was standing in one of the janitorial spaces aboard the Amity Colosseum, a room like the one in which Gilda and her White Fang … not friends anymore, for sure — comrades had tried to kill Blake and Rainbow.

Not that anyone was bringing that up now; it would have been rude — and ungrateful too, probably.

The Amity Arena was mostly empty now; with the battle done, everyone had been evacuated off down to the surface below; only a few people were left — including them, who had stuck around because they weren’t likely to be disturbed.

And also because it was easier for Gilda to stay here and not get arrested again. Councillor Cadance was willing to respect ‘Menagerite diplomatic immunity’ — if that was a real thing — but Vale might not be so inclined.

Having been given the runaround once, they might be losing patience with other people’s refusal to let them arrest reformed terrorists.

Especially ones who had only been reformed for a few hours.

"Twilight tells me that you saved her life," Rainbow said. Actually, Twilight had said more than that, but that was the gist of it.

Beside them, Twilight nodded eagerly.

Gilda shrugged. "That's right."

Rainbow stared at her for another second, breathing in and out, before she reached out and pulled Gilda into a hug.

"Good to have you back, pal," she whispered as she ran over Gilda's almost bald head. She could feel the last vestiges of hair on Gilda’s hair through her gloves, like the surface of a scouring brush.

Honestly, the hairless — nearly hairless — thing kind of suited her. It made her look edgy, true, but that kind of suited her too.

And if you didn't want to look edgy, you probably shouldn't carry two katanas around on your back.

She felt Gilda's hands on her back, just above her waist.

"Yeah, I…" Gilda began. "Listen, Dashie—"

"You don't have to say it," said Rainbow.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!" Gilda cried.

"You were going to say 'Listen, Dashie, you were right about everything; I should have listened to you when we were kids; I'm sorry that I wasted my life—'"

Gilda shoved her away. "Shut up," she muttered. "Jerk."

"Seriously?" Twilight asked Rainbow.

"You don't have to say it," Rainbow told Gilda. "But I think you should feel like you should, don't you think?"

"You were not right about everything," Gilda insisted. "You … were just right about some of the important stuff. You were right … where it counted. But you were still an ass when we were kids. All high and mighty with your new friends."

She paused. "Lady Belladonna told me you'd been wounded. You look fine to me." Her tone made it sound as though that could almost have been a pity.

"I was going to say," Lady Belladonna murmured, "Blake made it sound so serious."

Rainbow looked at Blake.

"I was worried about you," Blake said.

"It was just a couple of scratches," Rainbow. "I'm fine, ma'am."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lady Belladonna said. "A friend of Blake is a friend of mine, after all, and besides … if Blake is determined to go to Atlas, then I must admit I'd rather she was there with a good friend by her side."

"Is that where you're going?" asked Gilda. "Back to Atlas?"

"Well, I don't live here," Rainbow said. "Now that the Vytal Festival is over, then we need to go home for the start of the next semester at Atlas."

Gilda frowned. "Didn't you just win a battle?"

"We helped, a little," Blake said softly.

"But you have to go back to school afterwards?" Gilda asked. "Go … sit in a classroom and take notes?"

"Personally, I like the idea better than anything else they might be doing," Lady Belladonna remarked.

"That's right," Rainbow said.

Gilda shrugged, her golden eyes flitting from Rainbow to Blake. "But you're gonna keep fighting the good fight when you're up there, right?" She grinned. "Don't stop until you've brought down the whole SDC."

Rainbow snorted. "I can't promise that." She cleared her throat. "You know, not every Schnee—"

"Don't," Gilda said, holding one hand up to Rainbow’s face. "Don't tell me that not every Schnee is a bad guy, just … just don't, okay? I … I've made my peace with a lot of this stuff, but that would be a … just don't, okay? I can only go so far at a time."

Rainbow sighed. "Okay," she muttered. "Later then."

"We'll do what we can," Blake assured her.

Gilda nodded. She frowned, her brow creasing. "I can't say that … maybe the High Leader will send more people after you. Once she works out that my mission has failed…" She looked behind her, at Lady Belladonna. "I know Lady Belladonna has a plan to get the High Leader off your back, but if it doesn't work, then—"

"We've got the whole of Atlas watching our backs," said Rainbow.

"Do your friends?" asked Gilda. "Does Twilight?" She gestured with her head in Twilight's direction. "How about your Councillor friend?"

"Cadance is very well protected," said Twilight.

"But you're not, are you?" Gilda asked. “I just … if the High Leader does send someone else—”

“Do you doubt me, Gilda?” Lady Belladonna asked.

“I don’t doubt your resolve, my lady,” Gilda replied. “But I also don’t underestimate the High Leader’s tenacity. She hasn’t gotten this far by giving up easily.” She frowned. “The point is, if she does send someone else after you, then … they might not be as … discriminate as me.” She glanced at Twilight. “Is that the right word, ‘discriminate’? It sounds like ‘indiscriminate,’ but without the in.”

“I think so,” Twilight told her. “You’re talking about how Ilia was willing to—”

“Do whatever it took to hurt Dashie and Blake, yeah,” Gilda said. “The next guys that the High Leader sends after you might be more like that.”

“Is she really that desperate to kill us?” Blake asked. “Is she really that desperate to see us dead for trying to help?”

“I don’t know, but … just, take care of your friends, okay?” Gilda asked.

“Always,” Rainbow said. She glanced at Twilight. “I’ll speak to the General and get you some protection. Get everyone some protection.”

“That might be intrusive,” Twilight murmured.

“Maybe, but … that’s too bad,” Rainbow replied. “Even if it is intrusive, it’s better than the alternative, right?”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “I mean, it would be best if Sienna Khan would get over herself and leave you alone, but if she won’t do that…” She smiled wanly. “Then yeah, it’s the next best thing.” She hesitated for a second. “And what about you, Gilda? What are you going to do now that you’re … not in the White Fang anymore?”

“Maybe you could get that job we both told your folks that you have,” Rainbow suggested, with an impishness creeping into her tone.

Gilda snorted. “What, the management job that you told them I had?”

“It was kinda true at the time.”

“Well, I kinda quit that then, didn’t I?” Gilda replied. “I didn’t quite flip off the boss, stand up on a desk and yell ‘I quit!’ but I did the next best thing.” She grinned. “Maybe that’s what I should tell my parents when I see them next?”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “You’re—”

“Yeah,” Gilda said. “I figured that I’d see Menagerie.” She squared her shoulders. “It’s about time I made a pilgrimage to the promised land.”

“It’s also White Fang central,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Yeah, it is,” Gilda admitted, “but Lady Belladonna says—”

“The White Fang may be based in Menagerie, but that doesn’t mean they’re very active there,” Lady Belladonna explained. “On Menagerie, nobody wears a mask, there is no need of them, and there is no violence either. The White Fang doesn’t want to shatter the peace of the island, for fear of what people would think of them if they did.”

“Even so,” Rainbow murmured. “You’re telling me to beware of Sienna Khan, but you’re putting a lot of trust in her restraint yourself.”

Gilda shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“No, it’s not,” Rainbow declared. “I just … I don’t want to get a letter from Lady Belladonna telling me that you died when I only just got you back! Could you … could you not go somewhere else? Somewhere a little … safer?”

“Like where?” Gilda asked. “Atlas?” She shook her head. “Nah, I want to see the White Hart in the temple, even if I don’t need to have my future told. I want to see the land that the God of Animals promised us. I want to see the homeland of our people; I want to see my parents again.” She paused. “And … I owe Lady Belladonna and…”

“And what?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t want to say,” Gilda muttered, folding her arms across her chest and half turning away from Rainbow, glancing at her out of the corner of her golden eyes. “Rainbow will think it’s stupid.”

“No, she won’t,” Blake assured her.

“Unless it is stupid,” said Rainbow.

“Rainbow!” Twilight scolded her.

Gilda rolled her eyes. “The reason I don’t need the White Hart to tell me my future is that the Black Ram in Mistral already did that, and it told me that I would serve a virtuous lady. I think … I’m pretty sure that’s Lady Belladonna, so … who am I to argue with fate? I’m going to serve her, in whatever way she wants of me.”

“'The Black Ram'?” Twilight repeated. “And 'the White Hart'?”

“There are two sacred animals in Remnant, each representing a … a facet of the God of Animals who created the faunus,” Blake explained. “Or perhaps you could say that each represents one version of the God of Animals, the one from The Shallow Sea and the one from The Judgement of the Faunus. Each resides in a temple, the Black Ram in Mistral and the White Hart on Menagerie, cared for by priests and attendants, given harems of females—”

“Eww.”

“They’re animals, not people,” Blake said. “Sacred animals, touched by the divine — so they say, if you believe in such things — and identified by special markings on their bodies, but still animals at the end of the day. With animals’ needs. Anyway, the priests look after them and see to their comfort, and they … they have various duties, including being said to divine the future.”

“So … a goat told you you were supposed to go to Menagerie?” Rainbow asked, not bothering to hide the fact that this was, indeed, a really stupid thing.

“A ram, not a goat,” Gilda replied. “And it didn’t tell me anything … the priests told me what the Ram was saying.”

“Oh, that makes it all better.”

“Look, I know that you think that the old faith is stupid; you never hid that, not ever, even before you went up to Atlas,” Gilda said. “But — and I won’t even point out the fact that your parents worship a rainbow, because I’m classy that way — I believe, okay? I think … I think we’re being tested by the God of Animals, and if we prove ourselves worthy, then He will admit us all back into paradise, on another, even better island than the one we had before. And you know what, I think you two are playing a part in His design; there, I said it.” Gilda paused. “I think he's working through you; that’s why you’ve done so well.” She glanced at Twilight. “She’s going to be insufferable now, isn’t she?”

“Could be,” Twilight said, smiling a little.

“No, I won’t, because I don’t believe in … that,” Rainbow said. “But … if it makes you feel better, then … fine, I’m sorry I laughed at you … sorry I laughed.” she said, because saying ‘sorry I laughed that you were planning to go to Menagerie because a goat told you too’ would have seemed insincere. “Just … watch your back okay, and say hi to my parents for me, but watch yourself first and foremost. I’d … I’d like to see you again someday.”

Gilda smiled. “Well, you could always come visit. You could come right now and see your own folks.”

“I can’t,” Rainbow said. “Not … right now; I can’t just take a vacation with everything going on.”

“Yeah, you’re so indispensable in the classroom,” Gilda said.

More than you know, Rainbow thought. “I just … can’t right now. Maybe someday, but not at the moment.”

“Are you sure?” Gilda asked “Or do you just not want to visit your parents?”

“She’ll come,” Blake said, stepping closer to Rainbow. “We both will, I guarantee it, but not yet. Rainbow’s right; the time isn’t right.”

Rainbow looked at Blake. You guarantee it? You guarantee that we’re going to visit Menagerie?

Blake had a serene smile upon her face. It stayed upon her face as she took another step forward, putting one hand on Rainbow’s elbow as she leaned forwards.

“And now we’re even,” she whispered, so softly that nobody but Rainbow probably heard her.

Oh. Oh, right, the letter to her mom.

Yeah, I guess I had that one coming.

“I’ll look forward to that, then,” Gilda said.

“We both will,” Lady Belladonna agreed, taking a step forward. “But, for now … when do you go back to Atlas?”

“We don’t know for sure — the General hasn’t said — but it won’t be long now, ma’am,” Rainbow said. “Probably after Professor Ozpin’s funeral.”

General Ironwood would certainly want to stick around for that, to pay his respects, and considering they’d been his guests for a year, it would be right for the rest of them to be here for that too, but other than that, there wasn’t much to hold them here.

“Will all the Atlesians be leaving?” Lady Belladonna asked. “It seems like quite a position you’re leaving Vale in, to suddenly disappear like that.”

“Mmm,” Blake murmured. “You’ve got a point there, Mom.”

“Maybe some forces will stay here to support the Valish,” Rainbow guessed. “But not us, and probably not General Ironwood himself either. We’ll be going home.”

“'Home'?” Lady Belladonna asked, looking at Blake.

Blake nodded. “Home, Mom,” she said.

Lady Belladonna drew in a breath, and gave what might have been a sniff. “Home, then,” she whispered.

“Home,” Gilda repeated softly. “Take care of it, and make it better.”

Rainbow nodded. “And the same to you, G.”

“I don’t have a home yet,” Gilda pointed out. “But … but maybe I will, when I see you again.”

Pyrrha kept her hand gripped tightly upon her hospital crutch, even as she put her weight upon her leg instead.

It hurt, still, and the more weight she put upon it, the more it hurt, but pain was no reason why she shouldn't—

Pyrrha felt herself starting to wobble and put her weight on the crutch before she fell.

Her leg was getting better, for sure, but it was not quite there.

Still, with the rate that she was healing, she thought she might be — ought to be — back on her feet as early as tomorrow.

"You almost had it there," Penny said.

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Yes, Penny, but with the emphasis upon 'almost.'"

Penny nodded. "But I don't understand why Jaune can't just boost your aura to make you get better faster?"

"I think that would only have worked if I'd done it sooner, right after Pyrrha's aura was broken," Jaune explained. "At this point, Pyrrha's aura is working as fast as it can."

"Ah, I see," Penny said. "I think."

The three of them were in Pyrrha's hospital room. Apart from it being very good of them to remain by her side like this, it was also more convenient in that it saved them having to find anywhere else to stay. Pyrrha's mother had offered to accommodate them all in her suite, which was decent of her, but it might be a little awkward in Penny's case.

Still, no doubt they would manage. They would have little choice but to manage; Pyrrha wasn't going to be in this hospital very much longer.

But for now, she was here, and so were they, all in her hospital room. Pyrrha had just gotten up from her bed to test her leg, while Jaune sat in one of the low chairs, facing her.

Penny crossed the room to look out of the window.

She rested her hands on the windowsill, looking out across the carpets to the city beyond. The troubled city, the wounded city, the city where the future seemed suddenly quite uncertain.

"It's a pity your magic can't help you heal faster either," she said, before letting out a little gasp.

Silence fell in the hospital room. A silence fell because Penny had broken the code of silence, and Pyrrha … Pyrrha wasn't sure how to respond.

She wasn't sure how to talk about her … about the fact that she was…

The Fall Maiden.

That which Professor Ozpin had sought to … that which he had told her she was next in line to become, to receive, she now was and had, if not quite in the order that Professor Ozpin had envisaged.

Still, she had the magic now. She was the Fall Maiden. And she did not know what to … to think about it, to feel about it, certainly not what to say about it. And so she said nothing, and neither did they. They pretended to ignore the fact that flames had sprouted from her eyes, that they had seen the light leave Sunset … Sunset's body, for want of a better word, and pass into Pyrrha's eyes, her mouth, her chest.

Pyrrha was glad that she hadn't had to really feel it, that she had been whisked away to a white void to speak with Sunset for a second before Sunset — and Cinder awoke.

She had not felt the attaining of the powers, and now that she had attained them, she did not know how to feel.

And so she did not speak of it, and they, bless them, did not speak of it.

Until now.

Penny turned around. "Pyrrha—"

"It's fine," Pyrrha assured her.

"We probably ought to talk about it at some point," Jaune murmured. "I mean … it's not like it's going away, is it?"

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "Nor…"

"And you wouldn't want it to?" Jaune guessed.

Pyrrha sank down onto her bed. The mattress lowered beneath her. She loosened her grip upon her clutch.

"I…" she began. "I wanted this. When Professor Ozpin brought me down into the vault to tell me what he intended, I was horrified, but at the same time … I was tempted by the power that he offered, the potential to … to do something great, to be … to have the power to do tremendous things. I wanted that, I will not deny it. I am not even ashamed of it; at least, I am not greatly ashamed. I don't believe I have any reason to be greatly ashamed of my desire." She paused a moment. "And I felt duty-bound, or bound at least, to consider doing as Professor Ozpin asked, for all that it horrified me. I would have felt ashamed to turn away from a chance to make so great a difference, in spite of what it might cost, and so even more now, I should refuse to wish away this power burden now that it has been passed to me by far less horrifying means, no? How can I say now that I don't want this, that I want to be rid of it, that I don't want to be a Maiden or to wield magic, when I wanted it before, and I … I am myself, alone, not merged with Amber, not destroyed and my body given over to her use? I am me, the Fall Maiden is myself, the magic is mine to command—"

"But not to use," Penny pointed out. "You can't use it, you can't let anyone know what you are, you'll have to hide, always."

"Not the whole of myself," Pyrrha replied. "And not from everyone. I … Amber defeated me with this power, down in the Vault. Tempest Shadow, Bon Bon, Lightning Dust troubled me not, but once Amber began to wield her magic, I was…" Her brow furrowed beneath her golden circlet. "I was at her mercy, helpless before her; if it hadn't been for Cinder…" Pyrrha paused a moment. "That is the extent of this power, and now, that power is mine, power I can use if I wish and have the need. Why should I wish it away?"

"Because of the cost?" Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha looked down at her right hand, sitting on top of the bed. She clenched that hand, gripping the lime green bedsheets beneath her fingers.

"It is true that I buy it with a great pain," she whispered. "Amber … she became my enemy, and as my enemy, she fought me fiercely, and yet … she was just a girl, a romantic girl who wanted nothing more than to live out many happy years alongside her love, and she … she was my friend. She was my friend, and I failed her."

"That's not—" Penny began.

"She was going to confess to us, she told me so!" Pyrrha cried. "She was going to tell us everything, but then … the way we treated Sunset, the lack of compassion that we showed to her, it … it frightened her, and in her fright…" She trailed off, because the rest was known to them already.

Jaune sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "And you … believe her?"

"I don't see what reason Amber would have to lie about it," Pyrrha murmured.

"To throw you off-balance before the fight?" Jaune suggested.

"I … perhaps," Pyrrha acknowledged. "But I … I—"

"Believe her," Jaune finished for her. "Because you believe it."

"In both senses, yes," Pyrrha admitted. "I believe Amber was telling the truth. Her words … lies would have cut less, I think; deceitful barbs would have been less well aimed."

"So … we could have stopped all this?" Penny asked. "The Relic, and Professor Ozpin, it's all—"

"No, Penny," Jaune said quickly. "Well, technically, yes, I guess we could have stopped this, but it doesn't make it our fault, any more than…" He paused, and his tone became somewhat apologetic as he said, "Even less than it's the fault of Pyrrha or Sunset or Professor Ozpin for not telling the rest of us what Cinder said about Amber."

Pyrrha didn't reply to that. She deserved it, after all.

"It's unlucky that things worked out the way they did," Jaune went on. "It's unlucky that Amber saw that and thought the worst of us, but we were allowed to be angry." He looked at Pyrrha, as if daring her to contradict him. "Anger cools; like a fire, it burns itself out, and quicker for some than for others, and that's a good thing, but … if we hadn't been upset when we found out what Sunset did and the fact that she'd lied to us about it, then we wouldn't have been human, regardless of how we felt about it afterwards when we'd had more time to think and talk it over. Maybe … maybe we should have stopped and thought before we decided to do anything, but it's absurd to expect us not to have feelings because somebody who had been planning to betray us might be on the verge of not betraying us after all and confessing everything but only if we're really really super nice." He gave a little manic laugh. "I mean you get how nuts that is, right? You can hear how that sounds?"

"When you put it like that, certainly," Pyrrha murmured. She tightened her grip on the lime green sheet. "It wasn't my intent to cast blame on anyone but myself."

"I know," Jaune said. "But you don't deserve the blame either. It's unlucky, but it's not our fault. And, to be honest, it doesn't say anything brilliant about Amber." He paused. "Dove could have done better."

Pyrrha didn't comment on that. She only said, "I would not wish Amber dead to make myself the Fall Maiden. I would have her back and give up my new magic in a heart's beating if I could. I do not renounce this, but I do not rejoice in the price paid for it."

Jaune looked at her, and a smile pricked at the corners. "You know," he said, "that wasn't even the price I was talking about."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "It wasn't?"

"But the other price, what it asks of you, hasn't Pyrrha already answered that?" asked Penny.

"What about what it does?" asked Jaune. "Forget having to lie and hide the magic; this is a burden that drove Amber to … that put a target on her back and saw her get put in a coma by Cinder. You said the Spring Maiden ran away too, because she couldn't handle it. What are we supposed to take from that except that these powers break people, that they take from them and they put them in the way of harm?" He slapped his hands down onto his knees. "That's the price I was talking about."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, because Jaune had made a good and serious and earnest point that deserved a more considered answer than a platitude about her being in danger already or her being braver than Amber had been.

"You're right," she said. "It doesn't sound … promising. It may be that I find myself unequal to the burden I have taken — please, Penny, I do not speak in search of praise — that my resolve will curdle, as that of the Spring Maiden did." She didn't mention Amber, because she wasn't sure if Amber had had any resolution to begin with. "That is why I need your help. I need all the help I can get. After her mother died, Amber was forced to leave Dove behind and come to a … a brave new world. I don't know how many friends the Spring Maiden had, but not so many that she could not evade them and disappear." Pyrrha grabbed her crutch tightly and leaned upon it as she stood up once again. "I don't know what plans Professor Ozpin had for me as Maiden; I'm not sure he had any given he wasn't sure I would remain myself when all was said and done. I don't know what plans Professor Goodwitch has, but if she attempts to confine me, I … I will refuse. I can't do this alone." She smiled tentatively. "I need my brave new world to have such people in it."

It was Jaune's turn to get to his feet. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "And neither are you. We're in this together."

Pyrrha's smile became a little broader. "Then with other strengths beside my own, I will not break so easily."

"And the danger?" asked Jaune.

Again, Pyrrha paused, gathering her thoughts and marshalling her words. They were not so readily mustered as her last response. "I fear I can only suggest that I have been in much danger already, and that with this magic, I am better placed to face it than I was before."

"I … yeah, okay, I guess that's a fair point."

"I would have liked to have given you a better answer," Pyrrha insisted. "But if there is one, I don't have it readily to hand."

Penny opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could by the opening of the sliding door.

Professor Goodwitch stood in the doorway. There were bags beneath her eyes that spoke of lack of sleep, and her clothes were dirty and scuffed, but she moved with all her usual feline grace and sense of purpose as she stalked into the room.

With a flick of her riding crop, the door slammed shut behind her with a hard thump.

"Professor Goodwitch," Pyrrha said. "What an unexpected pleasure."

Professor Goodwitch's eyebrows rose. "Surely not that unexpected, Miss Nikos, in the circumstances." She paused, sweeping her eyes across the room. "Mister Arc, I'm told you were involved in hunting an Apex Alpha."

Jaune swallowed. "Yes, Professor, I was. Along with Penny and Ruby and … and Team Iron."

Professor Goodwitch's tone was clipped as she said, "Miss Xiao Long's death was a tragedy, a great tragedy in a night far from devoid of tragedies. But I did not come here to grieve but to commend your courage, Mister Arc, if not necessarily your sense. Well done." It seemed to Pyrrha that Professor Goodwitch almost smiled, but that her smile faded as she turned her attention onto Pyrrha. "Miss Nikos," she said with an audible sigh. "I fear that commiserations are as in order as congratulations."

"General Ironwood told you?" Pyrrha asked.

"Did you think he wouldn't?" asked Professor Goodwitch.

"No, Professor," Pyrrha murmured. "That's why I didn't tell you myself."

"You should have," Professor Goodwitch pointed out.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Confessing one's failures does not get easier on repetition," she admitted. "I lost the Relic. I failed."

"Yes," Professor Goodwitch said bluntly. "You did. But you're still alive, and so are your teammates. That is something that Professor Ozpin would have been grateful for, were he still here. Just as he would be grateful that the powers of the Fall Maiden did not fall permanently into enemy hands."

"But without the Relic—" Pyrrha began.

"Professor Ozpin valued the Maiden powers for their own sake, beyond being the guardians of the Vaults and Relics." Professor Goodwitch said. "He saw them as guardians of a broader sort, symbols of protection, hope. Remember the story of the seasons and the reasons why the first maidens received their magic. The burden that you bear has not grown much lighter. How does it feel?"

"I fear it would be wearisome to you to hear an account of all my complicated feelings, Professor," Pyrrha said. "I fear I wearied even the ears of Jaune and Penny with them. In fact, I almost wearied myself."

Professor Goodwitch snorted. "I'm glad to hear you're not wholly without good cheer, Miss Nikos; you'll certainly need it. But I was actually asking what it physically felt like, to have the Fall Maiden's magic within you."

"Oh! Oh, I see; I'm sorry, Professor," Pyrrha said. "It feels … I was a little surprised by how strange it didn't feel. I don't feel alienated from myself; I'm still me, still Pyrrha Nikos. I feel much as I did, except that…"

"'Except'?" Penny asked eagerly, heedless of Professor Goodwitch's presence.

"Except there is something … new, inside me," Pyrrha said. "Like a new bird slipped into the nest, like a cuckoo, except hopefully not as destructive. That is the strange feeling I half-expected, of something there that was not there before, its presence almost tangible within me. It sleeps now; it has felt as though it is sleeping ever since it was bestowed upon me. I … I'm not sure how I'm supposed to wake it up."

"Yes, well…" Professor Goodwitch said, appearing momentarily uncertain. "There are three things I wished to discuss with you, and that is one of them. The question of your training is understandably fraught in the circumstances. It is customary in our group that the senior Maiden, she who has possessed the powers the longest — that would presently be the Winter Maiden, in Atlas — trains the younger Maidens in how to wield their magic. Where it was impractical for them to meet, it would be for the head of the circle to do what they can. Professor Ozpin is dead, and while I'm sure James would have no objections to your travelling to Atlas to train, your fellow countrymen might not be so sanguine about the idea of you vanishing into the north. Not to mention the fact that, as … I cannot afford you in Atlas.

"That was my other topic to broach with you, Miss Nikos: I need you to go to Mistral. I don't know if that is where Salem will strike next, but I do know that Lionheart may have betrayed us, and the Spring Maiden is missing. Qrow Branwen is already there, or on his way, but I would feel better if you were there also, at his service but also under his protection. Be guided by him once you arrive; he'll know what to do."

"'Mistral'?" Pyrrha repeated, as she stared up at the professor. "You want me to go to Mistral?"

"I suppose I should have phrased it as a request," Professor Goodwitch admitted. "But I hoped that you would have no objection to returning to your homeland."

"It's not the destination I object to, Professor," Pyrrha said. "It's just—"

"You want us to leave Beacon?" asked Jaune. "But—"

"I'm afraid Salem won't wait for you to graduate, Mister Arc, even if I could say that you weren't going to be left waiting for the school to reopen after the damage done. It may be that, with one Relic in her possession, Salem retreats and bides her time for another few decades or centuries, but if not, if she attempts to capitalise on her victory here … I need your help, and so does Remnant. It's unfortunate, and if you wish to enroll at Haven to continue your studies, I won't stop you, but I cannot go myself any longer, and there are precious few others I can call on. And, Miss Nikos, it makes more sense to ask this of you than of Miss Rose or Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, Professor, I understand," Pyrrha said, "although … I did think for a while that, as the new Fall Maiden, you might try to confine me rather than put me to work."

"As I already intimated, Miss Nikos, we're presently stretched too thin for that," Professor Goodwitch answered, with precious little in her voice to indicate any feelings on the subject one way or another. "Now, will you oblige me?"

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune. She had no objection to the destination; Mistral was not so hateful to her that the idea of a homecoming filled her with dread or anger, far from it. There was much to love in the mountain city and its kingdom: the way the sunlight gleamed off the White Tower, the way the sound of the crowd echoed off the walls of the Colosseum, the serene stillness that prevailed within the Temple of Victory as though it were its own world, cut off and entire to itself. The way the air upon the mountain slopes surrounding the city was so crisp and the way that you could stand atop one and see out across all the valleys that lay around and in between. Iris, Hestia, and the others who had taken care of her all her life. The masks of her ancestors upon the walls, the bones in the crypt below, the brazen statues that spoke of a history undiminished by the passing of the years.

Mistral was home to her, home and hearth and heart, and if she was in need, as she might be, then Pyrrha would not hesitate to go to her defence.

But she would not force such a journey on Jaune, nor go without him. Vale was his home, as Mistral was hers, and Vale — the city, at least, if not the part of the kingdom that his family hailed from — had been damaged by this battle. If he wished to stay and assist in the reconstruction, then she would not blame him; indeed, she would gladly stay and lend what aid she could.

Jaune looked into her eyes, and Pyrrha thought he must have understood, because he assumed a thoughtful pose, cupping his chin with one finger.

"Professor," he said, "Now that Salem has the Relic of Choice, it's not likely that she'll attack Vale again, will she?"

"She has no reason to," Professor Goodwitch replied.

"Unless she still wants the Maiden powers, for assistance when she sends people after the other Maidens," Jaune murmured.

"Is that likely?" Pyrrha asked. "Amber was defeated without them."

"But it couldn't hurt, right?" asked Jaune. "And besides … since we've already lost one Relic, we can't really afford to let Salem get any more." He nodded. "Okay, we'll go to Mistral."

"Are you sure?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yeah," Jaune said. "It's … it's the smart thing to do."

"Then we'll go together, back to Mistral," Pyrrha said. "And do what we can to keep it safe."

Penny looked a little uncomfortable, but she said nothing.

"My final point," Professor Goodwitch said, "concerns the use of your magic; although you will not — cannot — be cloistered away from the wider world, please remember, Miss Nikos, that the existence of the Maidens is a secret, and must remain secret not only to protect the other present Maidens but also the generations of Maidens who will come after. The last time the existence of Maidens was common knowledge, the world descended into an orgy of murders, the magic passing to those least worthy of it. That cannot happen again."

"I understand, Professor," Pyrrha said. "Of all kingdoms, Mistral remembers the Red Queens best, though it has forgotten exactly what they were."

"Then you can also remember to keep your new powers a secret," Professor Goodwitch declared. "Do not use them — save at the utmost need." She did not say what the utmost need might be.

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha murmured. "Save at the utmost need." She, too, did not define her understanding of the term.

Professor Goodwitch. "I wish you luck, Miss Nikos, because I fear you may need it, but I also offer you a thought to take comfort in: Professor Ozpin did not choose you merely as an empty vessel, someone in whose body Amber's soul could reside. He chose you because he believed you were worthy. Remember that as you strive to prove him right."

Pyrrha swallowed. "Yes, Professor," she whispered.

She was in no doubt; she was under no — few, at least, she hoped — illusions.

Professor Ozpin, and Sunset — and arguably Cinder too — had chosen her for a great honour. A weighty burden, yes, and fraught with risk, but an honour also: to bear one of the four magical powers remaining in the world, to be the heir to the prophets of old, heir to one of the four sisters of story.

Her name was part of a tapestry richer even than her royal line, which was not something Pyrrha could have possibly imagined.

A great honour had been bestowed on her.

Now she had to prove that she deserved it.

Sunset wondered if she had spent as much time in hospitals as she had on trains.

Probably not, but it couldn't be that far off.

Although the trains felt more … momentous, for want of a better word. They'd impacted her life more, and certainly for the worse.

Nevertheless … hospitals, she had known.

Hospitals I have known and the people who were injured in them. Sometimes, it was even me.

She and Ruby were back at Kingsland Hospital, where Sunset had been taken after the Purifier's bomb had gone off and put her in that coma for a little while. Where Ruby had been taken after she, too, had spent some time asleep after a use of her silver eyes. It didn't look much different than it had done either of those times — as much of the first time as Sunset could recall, anyway; she hadn't been here long after waking up — which she supposed would make this hospital … not quite unique in Vale, but certainly an exception rather than the rule. Outside of the hospital boundaries, beyond the sliding doors that admitted people in and out, Vale felt as though it was on tenterhooks, the way it had been after the Breach but even worse. Vale was frightened, Vale was mourning, Vale had a hole in its outer wall which was being hastily plugged with a lot of wreckage and rubble and everything else that could be piled up into a makeshift barricade by a few bulldozers and a crane while the city worked out what to do next.

The streets coming here had been almost as empty as when Sunset and Councillor Emerald had driven through the streets of Vale to stop Sonata. It had meant that Sunset had arrived early, with little to get in her way coming here.

Ruby, on the other hand, had arrived a little late, although not as late as she could have.

"You ran all the way here?" Sunset asked.

Ruby shrugged. "After half an hour, it seemed like the bus wasn't going to show, and I can move pretty fast, so … why not?"

"Do you have any aura left?" asked Sunset.

"No," Ruby said, not seeming very fazed about its absence. "No, I used it all up getting—" Her words dissolved into a wordless mumbling yawn as her mouth gaped open wide. She swayed a moment on her feet, nearly bumping into the corridor wall, although she stopped and steadied herself just in time.

Sunset didn't offer to help; it probably wouldn't have been appreciated. Besides, it was only tiredness, nothing else. It had been a very long night, after all, the night before last, and some hours of sleep snatched the morning after — possibly — or even a good night's sleep the next night if you were fortunate enough to get a good night's sleep wasn't necessarily sufficient to drive out the weariness of a whole night spent running from here to there and fighting against this then that.

Sunset felt pretty tired herself, to tell the truth; a yawn burst from her own lips that was not entirely down to sympathy with Ruby.

Ruby looked at Sunset over her shoulder. "So, where are you staying right now?"

"I am imposing myself upon former Councillor Aris, at present," Sunset said, although 'imposing' — albeit technically somewhat accurate — did perhaps a disservice to the hospitality of the former Councillor and Skystar, who hadn't heard of turning her out. She had even been moved out of Skystar's bedroom floor and into the guest room.

Ruby nodded. "What about your mission to Mount Aris?"

"That's … been put on hold, for now," Sunset replied. "Thanks to…" She waved one hand around to encompass everything that had happened or was happening. "You know."

"Yeah, I can see that," Ruby agreed. "I'm a little surprised that you didn't come here with them — the former Councillor and Skystar, I mean."

"I may be imposing on their house and home, but not on that," Sunset replied. "Their visit will be for a different reason than mine, after all. Besides, the First Councillor wanted to see the both of us together."

"Mmm," Ruby murmured. "It isn't propaganda, is it? We're not going to walk in there and find a photographer waiting for us?"

"I don't know," Sunset admitted. "But I'd be surprised if the Councillor wanted to be photographed in a hospital bed. It doesn't exactly scream 'strong leadership.'"

"I guess not," Ruby said. "But then, why are we here?"

"Perhaps he just wants to give you the thanks of Vale for shooting down the dragon," Sunset suggested. "So, what about you? Where are you staying?"

Nobody was staying at Beacon at the moment. What with so many dorm rooms having been wrecked in the course of the battle, to a greater or lesser extent — holes in the outer walls, holes in the inner walls, doors torn off, bathrooms wrecked, battles fought within — there was no way that they could be called fit for habitation for the majority of students. As a result, the students — of which either Sunset or Ruby might not be numbered anymore, but Sunset was not sure to which of them the term did not apply at present or how to refer to them else — had been forced to shift for themselves. Sunset thought that either Beacon or Vale might have at least tried to make some effort to put them up somewhere and ensure nobody was left camping out on the street, especially with so many hotels taken up with tourists, but at the same time, given the circumstances, it was understandable that Valish state capacity was a little … creaky, at present.

The Atlesian students had found berths upon the remaining ships of General Ironwood's fleet, while Pyrrha had been freed from the need to find a place to stay by virtue of spending the night in hospital with her leg being looked at, a position in which her lady mother had also found herself.

They were Sunset's second and third stops after she was done with Councillor Emerald.

Lady Nikos might be in hospital, but in the meantime, Jaune and Penny were both being put up in her hotel room, where Pyrrha and her mother would join them presently. It was an arrangement that a high class hotel would almost certainly have not entertained in normal circumstances … but these circumstances were far from normal, weren't they?

It might be a little more cramped than envisaged, but there were far worse places to be stuck than a luxury suite. As the Atlesians aboard their warships were probably finding, or indeed, the many other Beacon and Haven students left to fend for themselves. The Shade students had gone home already, managing to arrange a ship to Vacuo with commendable speed.

Considering what they'd done — or hadn't done — during the battle, they might have just wanted to make themselves scarce before the recriminations started flying.

Sunset had heard that the Haven students were faring a little better than those of Beacon, strange as it might seem. At the last resort, they could doss upon the floor of the new, temporary, Mistralian embassy, but as Sunset understood it, the Mistralian tourists had thrown open their hotel-room doors to the indigent students, to the extent of competing amongst themselves to see who could give up their bed to the most celebrated hero, who could bag the most famous tournament fighter, the noblest name to be their guest.

The people of Vale had not been so generous to their own homegrown heroes, as far as Sunset was aware. They were frightened, true, they had been through a great deal very recently, but the Mistralian visitors had also been through that same night, and were probably a little nervous themselves — who knew when they might be getting out of here? All flights were presently grounded until further notice — but nevertheless, fear had not dried up their generosity completely.

The Valish, huddled in their homes with the doors shut, quivering as they waited for information, were, Sunset had to admit, rather vindicating Professor Ozpin's desire to avoid telling anybody anything.

Maybe that wasn't fair, but … small wonder he'd kept things to himself when this was how people reacted.

It was to the credit of the doctors and nurses here that they weren't hiding. They were still here, thronging the corridors, manning the desks, bustling here and there with charts and prescriptions and furrowed brows.

Then again, their lives … a crisis might make their lives harder, but it didn't complicate them. They had to go to work, just as much — more, perhaps — at a time like this as at any other time. Maybe it made things easier, to be able to focus like that, to have something to push out the worries and distractions.

"I managed to get into a Travellers' Inn down by the docks," Ruby said. "I'm sharing it with Team GRAY, but that's fine."

"Team GRAY?" Sunset repeated. "What about Ren and Nora?" She wondered if they, being Mistralians by birth if not by school, might have found some Mistralian willing to accommodate them."

"They're camping on the grounds," Ruby explained. "At Beacon, I mean. They said they were used to it."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Huh," she said, for want of anything else to say. It was … their choice, she supposed, but it wasn't a choice that she would have made. Camping was one thing, but to camp at Beacon? Yes, it had been home for a year, it ought to have been their home still, but at the same time, after that night … Sunset was not at all sure that she would want to spend the night up there, all alone to all intents and purposes, amongst the ghosts.

Professor Ozpin's ghost among them. She would have been too afraid to meet him there and have it demanded of her 'where were you? Why were you not here to fight for me?'

"It's not your fault," Ruby said softly.

Sunset blinked rapidly. "Huh?"

"Professor Ozpin," Ruby said. "That was what you were thinking about, right?"

Sunset thrust her hands into her jacket pocket. "How did you—?"

"Lucky guess," Ruby said softly. "I'm not shy about blaming you for the things that are your fault, so you can trust me when I say that Professor Ozpin's death isn't one of them. He sent everyone away, to fight for Vale out beyond the walls: Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, me. If you'd been there, he would have sent you away as well. There's nothing you could have done."

Sunset's brow furrowed. "I appreciate it, but it doesn't help."

"I didn't think it would," Ruby said softly. "But it's true anyway." She paused. "Have you seen Pyrrha's mom? I heard she got hurt pretty bad."

Sunset nodded. "I called in on her, but the painkillers had put her to sleep. I'm going to try again when we're through with the First Councillor."

Speaking of whom, they had almost arrived at his door: a solid wooden door, painted white, with no window to see inside before they opened the door — or for Councillor Emerald to see out and observe who had come to visit, for that matter.

"I'm a little surprised," Ruby said as they stood outside the door, "that they chose to bring him down here like this. Wouldn't he have been better off resting aboard the Atlesian medical frigate?"

"I think you've just answered your own question there," Sunset answered.

"Right, an Atlesian medical frigate," Ruby said with a roll of her silver eyes.

Sunset reached out and pushed the door, sliding it open. Ruby was the first in, then Sunset followed, closing the door after her. It rumbled as it slid shut.

The room in which they stood looked pretty standard for a hospital room: white tiles on the ceiling, grey linoleum upon the floor, a window that was not small but which was half sealed so that nobody could open it enough to jump out of. A single bed, in which sat First Councillor Aspen Emerald.

The First Councillor's face was pale, but he was sitting up in bed, a pair of well-stuffed pillows sitting behind him, crumpling beneath him. He wore a light blue hospital gown, one which hid any dressings that might be wrapped around his midriff. He was hooked up by the left arm to tubes, leading up to a pair of squishy bags, one of which looked to be of blood, while the other was something else, something transparent but too thick-looking to be water.

In each case, the liquid was trickling down the tubes and into his arm.

Despite his condition — for, for all that he looked better than he had the last time Sunset had seen him, he still looked worse than he had before he'd been shot — Councillor Emerald managed to smile.

"Good morning, Miss Shimmer," he said. "And Miss Rose, thank you for coming."

"Councillor," Ruby murmured, in a tone that gave very little away.

"Councillor," Sunset said. "How are you feeling?"

"My stomach feels a lot better than it did, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald replied. "And I'm told that I will make a full recovery."

Sunset sighed with relief. "I'm glad to hear it, Councillor. I'm delighted to hear it. Has Bramble seen you yet?"

"Not yet," Councillor Emerald replied. "Although Novo said that she'd bring him today; I think I should be well enough for it."

"That will be something to look forward to then, Councillor," Sunset murmured. For her own part, she hadn't dared face the First Councillor's son; she had been too afraid of his reaction to the fact that she'd let his dad get shot. It was … it was cowardly of her, perhaps, but she didn't relish the idea of someone else yelling at her for something that she'd done wrong, that she'd failed to do, that she'd allowed to happen.

No matter how deserved it might be, she'd tasted the dish too often to want another serving.

She hoped to be done and out of here before former Councillor Aris arrived with Bramble.

"Yes," Councillor Emerald agreed. "Yes, it…" He trailed off for a moment, leaning back a little further upon his pillows. "Though I may hold off on giving him that toy just a little longer, Miss Shimmer. It doesn't feel like the right time or place for it."

Sunset chuckled. "That's fair enough, Councillor, although if you leave it too long, he may lose interest in it altogether."

"I'm not sure about that, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "In fact, I think that a lot of this Vytal merchandise is likely to soon see imminent rerelease under new packaging, the same dolls and miniatures reissued, turned from Vytal contestants to heroes of Vale. Although they may need some grimm figures to fight against."

"This isn't a game, Councillor," Ruby said, her voice sharpening like the blade of Crescent Rose.

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. "No, Miss Rose, no, it isn't." He paused. "I understand that commiserations are in order."

Ruby gave a short, sharp nod of the head. "Yes. Thank you, Councillor."

"As well as the thanks of Vale, for your own valiant service," Councillor Emerald. "You brought down a truly formidable grimm, as I understand."

"I did what I had to do," Ruby said quietly.

"And did it well, so I am told," Councillor Emerald replied. "Ruby Rose, the Dragonslayer. This isn't a game, Miss Rose, you're right, but the preservation of the public confidence is amongst the highest duties of the office of First Councillor. In the days to come, we must honour our dead, Professor Ozpin among them, and let the memories of those who gave their lives in defence of Vale inspire we who remain. But a kingdom cannot be defended by its fallen heroes, their greatest deeds by definition behind them. It must have living heroes to protect it into the future, living legends to inspire hope and banish fear. Your killing of the dragon was the work of a moment, Miss Rose, but your work as the Dragonslayer will last for years, perhaps your whole life. A source of comfort to the people, a light that shines against the darkness. People will sleep better here in Vale knowing that you stand watch upon the walls, and others like you. That's why the toys and games and other things which no doubt seem so frivolous are of such great importance. The child who plays with his own little Miss Rose cutting a swathe through the ranks of the grimm or sleeps with a Ruby Rose nightlight will not fear the creatures of the darkness, and so, we may hope, that they will not be drawn to that same child. I'm sorry if you don't like it, Miss Rose, but you and other students like you who survived the night are the only ones who can do this; the dead must be honoured, but they cannot bring hope back to a frightened city."

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "I guess not," she whispered. "And if you want to use my image, then I guess that's fine — maybe I can't stop you anyway, or if I can, then I won't — but I won't perform for you. I'm a huntress, not an actor or a symbol. I don't want to be stuck in Vale talking about how I killed one grimm instead of being out there killing more."

"There should be no need for that," Councillor Emerald said. "Provided there is ample merchandise to speak on your behalf."

"Will it be possible to make merchandise?" asked Sunset. "With the CCT down—"

"Vale has some of its own manufacturing capability," Councillor Emerald said. "Although you're right, Miss Shimmer, with the tower and the network down … it does make things a lot more challenging. We must find some way to restore communications across the kingdom, even as we hope that the Atlesians can restore it across the world."

"Is it possible?" Sunset asked.

"I've no idea," admitted Councillor Emerald. "But if it isn't…" He trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

It didn't really need finishing.

"I'm told," Councillor Emerald went on, "that Ozpin died at Beacon, after the battle at the school was seemingly over."

Sunset licked her lips. "That … if that's what they say, neither Ruby nor I—"

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said, his tone becoming more magisterial as he spoke, "I would like you to look me in the eye and tell me, to the best of your knowledge, that Ozpin didn't know more than he was telling me."

Sunset looked him in the eye. "I … can't do that, Councillor."

"What did he know?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Councillor," Sunset murmured.

Councillor Emerald stared at her, his green eyes boring into her. "Don't you think I have a right to know, Miss Shimmer? After all that has happened, all that has befallen Vale, after all that I and the people of this kingdom have been through, have suffered, do you not think that I have a right to know what is really going on?"

Sunset bowed her head, unable to meet the Councillor's gaze any longer. "I … am sorry, Councillor, but … you must ask Professor Goodwitch this, perhaps she will agree with you and tell you the truth, but—"

"But you don't agree?"

"My agreement or otherwise is immaterial, Councillor," Sunset said, looking up at him once more. "I was Professor Ozpin's servant before I was yours. If he didn't want you to know certain things, it is scarcely my place to contradict him."

"Ozpin didn't get everything right," Ruby said. "Councillor…" She paused. "The world is threatened by—"

The door behind Sunset and Ruby, the door into the Councillor Emerald's room, slid open so quickly and so violently that it hit its limit with a hard thump that made both Sunset and Ruby turn around to see who it was.

It was a man who looked to be about the same age as Professor Goodwitch, with long red hair falling down behind him, disappearing behind his shoulders; a goatee as red as his hair adorned the area around his mouth, although his cheeks were otherwise bare of any visible hair. He wore a suit of shimmering, oceanic blue, upon which the light, even the internal lighting of the hospital, seemed to dance in wave-like patterns. He wore a black pocket square in his breast pocket and a silver ring with an onyx set in it upon one finger, in what appeared to be his concessions to mourning.

"Aspen!" he cried jovially as he strolled into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He noticed Sunset and Ruby, his blue eyes flickering over both of them. "And who do we have here? Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer, I do declare." He chuckled. "You looking to shore up your position, Aspen, you old hound? Or should that be 'you old stag'?" He laughed. "Am I going to find some reporters under your bed, waiting to get your endorsement from a pair of heroes?"

Ruby stepped away from both men, retreating towards the window; Sunset moved to stand at Councillor Emerald's bedside, facing this newcomer.

"Leo," Councillor Emerald said, in an even tone devoid of warmth. "Miss Shimmer, Miss Rose, allow me to present Leo Aquas, formerly Councillor of the Treasury."

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Aquas," Ruby said softly.

Sunset bowed her head. "Sir."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Leo?" asked Councillor Emerald. "I don't think you've come down here to bring me a box of chocolates."

"I might have brought you some hard-boiled eggs and some nuts, if I'd thought about it," Mister Aquas muttered, before the smile returned to his face. "But no, I've come to give you something much better than that, Aspen: the chance to resign with your dignity intact."

"'Resign'?!" Sunset cried.

"You've got your excuse ready made right here," Mister Aquas went on, ignoring Sunset. "Ill health, a brush with death, nobody would blame you if you wanted to take it easy, spend some more time with your son. Focus on what … really matters." He chuckled. "Nobody would blame you at all; nobody would whisper any words like 'failure' or 'incompetent.' And you've outlasted a lettuce; that's nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all."

He chuckled again. He seemed very fond of his own wit, which was somewhat surprising to Sunset because said wit which so amused the man himself was tickling her own humour very little.

"You can step away now, Aspen," Leo said. "I can't promise you'll leave office with the thanks of a grateful kingdom, but I can say that I'll talk about you as though you do."

"As you step into my high office, I suppose," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"It's clear now that the party made a mistake choosing you over me," Mister Aquas said. "It's clear to them, as it's clear to the kingdom." He smiled, a rather smug and toad-like smile to Sunset's way of looking at it. "You can't fight this, Aspen, any more than Novo could. A grimm attack of historic proportions, the Valish defence force losing its mind, a hole in the defences, civilian casualties." He laughed again, now seeming more incredulous than self-amused. "I mean, for the gods' sake, you can't just expect to carry on after all that! My support in the party is as solid as ever; yours is crumbling beneath your feet. I've been talking to people—"

"While Councillor Emerald has been laid up in bed, you've been canvassing to try and take his place?" Sunset demanded.

"After everything that Vale's been through, all that you can think of is getting to be in charge?!" cried Ruby.

"At a time like this, more than in normal circumstances, the question of leadership looms more important than ever before," Mister Aquas replied. "If Vale is to emerge from out of his debacle and be restored to its former glory, then it must have the best possible leadership—"

"Councillor Emerald is a hero," Sunset declared. "He went into the military headquarters and—"

"The people don't want a hero to lead them; they want a captain with a firm hand on the tiller to guide the ship calmly and safely through the waters," Mister Aquas pronounced. "Not sail it into the heart of the storm!" He took a deep breath. "Aspen, you know that you can't recover from this. And the more you try, the longer you cling on, the more you damage the party and make it more likely that the opposition will win. I mean, you hadn't even recovered our position in the polls from before the Breach, and goodness knows how far down we'll be now. For the good of the party, and the kingdom, you need to step aside, without bloodshed, without a divisive leadership challenge, and let someone come in with a clean slate who stands a chance of putting Vale back together before the election. There isn't anyone who'll stand against me, I've made sure of that. If you make way, I can take over unopposed."

"Whereas if I fight you, I'll lose," Councillor Emerald murmured. "My, this is very kind of you, isn't it, Leo? You're showing me more consideration than you showed Novo, and the result is a lot more certain; according to you, anyway."

"I care about Vale, as much as you do," Mister Aquas said. "In fact, inasmuch as I believe that this kingdom deserves better than you and your failed policies, one might say I care more about this kingdom than you do. I don't want to see it divided, weakened by a contest for the crown for all that it's one I'm certain to win. I may be the Lion and you the Unicorn, but beating you all over town would serve no purpose; it wouldn't help Vale whatsoever." He took a step forward, and as he advanced upon the Councillor, all his bonhomie seemed to slide off his face like rain off a waterproof. "You know, some people might make something of the fact that it's all you faunus conspiring against Vale. Some might say that it has something of a White Fang stench about it."

Councillor Emerald tried to sit up, only to make himself wince in pain. "What in the gods' names are you suggesting, Leo?"

"I'm suggesting that I'm going to be First Councillor, one way or another," Mister Aquas declared. "If you go quietly and allow me an unchallenged coronation, for the sake of the party, then we can all go on pretending all that bull that Novo's little girl came out with about childish tantrums and unsent messages. But if you make me fight you for this, then not only will I win, but I'll also open a public inquiry into those allegations that you were so quick to dismiss, and I'll see you, and your pet pony there, and Novo and Skystar too, all end up with ropes around your necks for h—"

He stopped, because Sunset had just punched him on the nose. His blood was smeared across the knuckles of her dirty bridal glove as she pulled back her fist.

Sunset's teeth were bared like some kind of half-tamed dog; her ears had flattened down into her fiery hair, her tail was rigid down between her legs as she stepped forward, half-twirling around Mister Aquas to put a foot out behind him even as she shoved him backwards, pushing against that shimmering blue suit of his. He tripped, going down with a heap and a crash on the floor at the foot of the Councillor Emerald's bed.

"Sunset!" Ruby cried.

Sunset ignored her as she straddled Mister Aquas, her hands around his neck. Her grip was loose, but with the possibility that her grasp could become tighter, if need be.

"Now, I don't particularly like the way you've been speaking to Councillor Emerald," she said, "but as a magistrate of this kingdom, I suppose he can stand up for himself, metaphorically at least. I don't particularly care how you talk about me, you can threaten me all you like, but if you ever threaten Skystar like that again, then I will—"

"Sunset, that's enough!" Ruby shouted. "Let him go!"

Sunset looked up, into Ruby's eyes, her hard eyes. "After what he said?" she asked.

"After what he said," Ruby said, her voice calm, like a cliff looking out to sea.

Sunset hesitated, breathing in and out, looking down at Mister Aquas, the man who would be First Councillor with his bloody nose. He was looking up at her with fear in his blue eyes. He was not so quick to fling around threats of hanging now, but how long would that last once Sunset took her hands from around his neck?

Nevertheless, she took her hands from around his neck, because what was the alternative? She looked apologetically at Councillor Emerald as she retreated a step towards him.

His expression was inscrutable.

Mister Aquas picked himself up off the floor. "You…" he growled. "You damn faunus, I'll see you answer for that!"

"Answer for what?" Ruby asked. "You tripped and fell on your face. Kind of clumsy of you, but at least you had your accident in the hospital. Lucky you, huh?"

Mister Aquas blinked rapidly as he stared at her. "'Tripped'? 'Tripped'? You know perfectly well—"

"Yes," Ruby said. "I know. I know that I'm the Dragonslayer, a hero of Vale, a hero of the battle for Vale, and who are you? If I say one thing, and you say something else, who are people going to believe?"

Mister Aquas stared at her. "Why?"

Ruby shook her head forlornly. "There was a moment where I believed you," she said. "A moment where I believed you really wanted the best for Vale—"

"I do—"

"If you really believed that executing Skystar was the right thing to do, then you'd do it anyway!" Ruby snapped. "Or try to! You wouldn't threaten it just to get what you really wanted! Now get out!" Her whole body was trembling, like loose rocks about to descend in a crushing avalanche.

Mister Aquas took a deep breath. "Because I'm a generous man, Aspen, I'm going to leave my offer on the table. Don't fight me on this. Think of the party." He glared at Sunset. "And you should think about finding another place to live."

He turned away and thrust the door open with a bang.

He stalked out, calling for a doctor to help him.

Sunset's hand glowed green as she shut the door with telekinesis. She glanced at Ruby, feeling unable to meet her eyes for long.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"I get why you were angry," Ruby said, almost as quietly as Sunset herself. "It made me pretty angry too." She paused for a moment. "With the right leadership … a good person could make something of this kingdom. Something great, like it used to be, in the days of the Last King or before that, when … if it had a good person in charge." She sighed. "Instead, it has people like you, Councillor, and him."

"Perhaps you should consider politics yourself, Miss Rose, if you're so unhappy with the politicians currently on offer," Councillor Emerald suggested, in such an even tone that Sunset couldn't help but think he was taking her criticisms remarkably well. "You'll do more good for more people in the legislature than you will in a lifetime swinging a sword—"

"It's a scythe, Councillor, and also a gun," Ruby said. "And maybe when I'm older." She walked towards the door. "You can use my name, my image, my reputation however you like, but I'm taking myself somewhere cleaner. Somewhere that doesn't smell so bad." She opened the door.

"Once again, Miss Rose, Vale thanks you," Councillor Emerald declared. "And extends you its sympathies."

Ruby stood in the doorway, her cape hanging still behind her as she looked half over her shoulder, not so much that Sunset could see her face.

"Goodbye, Councillor," Ruby said before she closed the door behind her.

There was a moment of silence in the hospital room.

"I'm sorry, Councillor," Sunset said. "I … I'm sorry."

"It was entertaining to watch, I must admit, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "But I'm afraid you've done yourself more harm than you've done to me. The worst part is that, as much as I dislike him, he's right. I can't go on after this."

Sunset's eyes widened. "You're … you're going to quit?"

"If I don't jump, I'm going to be pushed out, as Leo says," Councillor Emerald admitted. "He isn't wrong that I've presided over a grim night in the affairs of our kingdom; not even in the Great War did Vale come so close to destruction. General Blackthorn, the dragon, the Freedom Gate—"

"Yourself, broadcasting to the people of Vale, calming them after the fright given by their own soldiers," Sunset reminded him. "Is that so quickly forgotten?"

"What led to it will be remembered too," Councillor Emerald replied. "I don't relish this, Miss Shimmer, by any means; I had some hopes that I might be given time to rebuild Vale. But I doubt Leo is bluffing; I think he really does have the strength to turf me out. In which case, why delay the inevitable and further damage the party?"

"So in a single year, the First Councillorship gets handed over twice without the people ever getting a say in the matter?" Sunset asked. "I'm no great enthusiast for democracy, but this is a very strange form of it, I must say."

Councillor Emerald snorted. "We don't believe in democracy, Miss Shimmer, so much as we believe in our right to rule and keeping the other lot out." He paused. "Although that's another reason to step aside: if Leo fails to restore our flagging reputation, then he'll be blamed for the defeat, not me." A slight smile played across his lips. "Novo might even be able to return, claiming that she could have averted the electoral catastrophe."

"I must tell you, Councillor, you disappoint me," Sunset said, her tone chilling noticeably. "I thought you were a better man than to hand power over to someone who would threaten a teenage girl in order to call himself First Councillor."

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. "Put like that, Miss Shimmer, I must confess that your words prick me and my conscience. But what would you have me do?"

"Show some of the courage that you displayed the night before last?" Sunset suggested. "You can face a magical monster and the army she had at her command, but you cannot face this man made of smarm and smugness and outface his threats?"

Councillor Emerald made a noise that might almost have been a chuckle, but didn't quite rise to it. "Perhaps I'm more afraid of the votes of my party than I am of the bullets of the Valish Defence Force. After all, Miss Shimmer, your actions here aside, you can't protect me from Leo." He paused. "I'm sorry for the way that I spoke, Miss Shimmer, I was too light-hearted for the subject matter, Leo's behaviour warranted a more mature response, but … there's nothing I can do — except lose with good grace and dignity and hope that way to protect Skystar and Novo — and you."

"I offered to tell the truth to protect former Councillor Aris' career—" Sunset said.

"It was too late for that then, Miss Shimmer, and it is certainly too late now," Councillor Emerald said. "Perhaps you should worry less about me or Skystar and worry more about what Leo will do to you when he gains office. Is there somewhere you could go? Another kingdom?"

"Is there, Councillor? Yes," Sunset said. "I could go to Mistral, and Lady Nikos will receive me kindly there." She paused. "Will I go there? No, I will not. Rather, I … I would serve you, here in Vale, or wherever else you might think best."

Councillor Emerald turned his head to look at her. "Excuse me, Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I … we agreed that I would serve you once before, you … hoping that it would kill me," she murmured. "Now, trusting you to get best use out of me for the good of Vale, I offer to serve you again. I think … I think I owe Vale that much; certainly, I owe Vale more than to scamper off to Mistral because I've given a politician cause to dislike me. I cannot say that I have, or will have, no other obligations but to you, Councillor, but nevertheless…" She knelt at his bedside, head bowed. "Nevertheless, Councillor, I am at your service."

"Oh, get up, Miss Shimmer; you look ridiculous," Councillor Emerald muttered.

Sunset looked up at him. "You could indulge the moment, Councillor; it wouldn't hurt you." She winced. "I mean to say—"

The door slid open, revealing former Councillor Aris standing there, with at least one other person, probably Skystar, but it was impossible to say for sure, standing beside her.

Former Councillor Aris surveyed the scene in front of her, Sunset kneeling at Councillor Emerald's bedside, looking up at him.

"I know that it's typical for the second wife to be a younger model with brighter hair," she declared, in a wry tone, "but don't you think this is a bit much, Aspen? And Miss Shimmer, what is the point of kneeling without showing the ring?"

Sunset gathered as many shreds of her dignity as had survived the mockery of both the present and the past First Councillors about her as she stood up. "If you please, ma'am, I was just—"

"Dad!" Bramble cried as he darted around Novo's legs, leaving Skystar — it was her; her face was clearly visible as she tried and failed to catch Bramble — and bounded across the room towards his father's bed. He tried to scramble up it, although the height of the bed relative to himself presented something of a trial for him.

Sunset knelt down and grabbed him, sweeping him up in her arms and holding him so that he was more or less at a level with his father. "Careful. Your father is still a bit delicate, so best not go throwing yourself at him for a while."

Bramble twisted around in Sunset's grasp. Sunset braced herself for a degree of earned recrimination.

I've faced Adam and Sonata, I've faced Cinder and Ruby in all their wrath, I can face this too, and take it on the chin.

"Thank you, Sunset," Bramble said. "For protecting my Dad."

Sunset stared down at him. "I … but, I … he was hurt."

"But he'll be alright," Bramble said. "You'll be alright, won't you, Dad?"

"I'll be right as rain in just a little while," Councillor Emerald confirmed.

"You see?" Bramble asked. He leaned his head against her — the nubs of his antlers hit Sunset's cuirass with a soft thud — and put one arm as far around her as his little arms could manage, which wasn't far, but … but it felt good anyway.

"Thank you," Bramble whispered.

"You're…" Sunset felt her cheeks heat up. Of all the things that she had expected from Bramble, gratitude wasn't one of them. "You're very welcome, young man."

"Here," Skystar said, holding out her hands as she approached. Sunset gratefully handed him over and got out of the way as Skystar set him down upon the bed, close to his father but — with Skystar still holding onto him — not close enough that he could inadvertently do his father an injury in his condition.

Councillor Emerald reached out and ruffled Bramble's hair. "You're behaving yourself, I hope?"

"Of course I am!"

"So," former Councillor Aris said, "what was that little tableau that we stumbled upon just a few moments ago?"

"Miss Shimmer was just offering me her service," Councillor Emerald said, in an amused tone.

"What does that mean?" asked Bramble.

"Nobody knows, sweetie, that's why we all think it’s so weird," Skystar murmured.

"I feel this mockery is most unwarranted," Sunset declared. "I am merely placing myself at the Councillor's disposal; what could be so absurd or unheard of in that?"

"For as long as I am the First Councillor?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"No, Councillor, for I do not offer the office my service, but yourself," Sunset said. "Even after you are cast out by Mister Aquas, I would serve you, not him."

"Wait, what?" asked Skystar. "What's this about being cast out?"

"And why did this offer, generous though it is, require you to kneel, Miss Shimmer?" asked former Councillor Aris.

"Because it is the way things are done, ma'am," Sunset said.

"Hmm," former Councillor Aris murmured skeptically. "I seem to recall we've been here before, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, ma'am, but now we are here in a better spirit, I hope," Sunset answered.

"And when I am not First Councillor?"

"You keep saying that," Skystar said. "But you don't explain—"

"I'm sure that … at least, I might have a slightly higher opinion of you than Ruby does," Sunset said. "And so I'm sure that, even thrown out of office, you will continue to work for the good of Vale and will have some use for me in that endeavour."

"Who's throwing you out of office?" Skystar demanded.

Sunset folded her arms. "The First Councillor is throwing himself out."

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald murmured reproachfully. He looked at former Councillor Aris as he said, "Leo came to see me just before you did. He says he has the numbers on his side to win a leadership challenge."

"He thought that once before," former Councillor Aris pointed out.

"He had enough to ruin you," Councillor Emerald pointed out. "And … events, Novo, events. When Leo tells me that I can't survive this, it's hard to argue with him."

"And so he will win, in the end?" former Councillor Aris asked. "The regicide will wear the crown, after a short delay of a few months, while you will be the shortest serving First Councillor in the history of Vale? I am inclined to agree with Miss Shimmer's body language; you should fight this. What have you to lose by making Leo work for his crown?"

"The party—"

"Oh, sod the damn party; what has the party ever done for me?" demanded former Councillor Aris. "The party demands loyalty, endless, unrequited loyalty, but when does the party ever show any loyalty in turn? The party is like a herd of stupid and easily frightened animals ready to stampede their leader at the slightest change in the wind. So what if a fight damages the party?"

"Leo tells me that if I don't give way with good grace, he will start investigating Skystar," Councillor Emerald said.

The face of former Councillor Aris paled. "'Investigating'?"

Councillor Emerald nodded silently.

"And so, for Skystar's sake…" former Councillor Aris whispered.

"Hey, Sunset?" Skystar asked, speaking more loudly than her mother — not that that was hard right now. "Do you want to come and get a coffee with me or something?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, now," Skystar said insistently, gesturing with her head towards the door.

"Uh … yeah, right, yeah, sure," Sunset said.

"Great," Skystar said quickly. To Bramble she added, "Now stay right there and be good, okay? I'll be back." She let go of him, leaving her perched on his father's bed, beside his legs. Skystar herself turned away and headed towards the door.

Sunset followed.

"Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald said.

Sunset turned to look at him. "Yes, Councillor?"

"I would be glad to accept your … offer of assistance," Councillor Emerald said, presumably unable to use so old-fashioned sounding a word as 'service.' "You're right, we are both different people than the last time we danced this dance, and Vale will be the better for it."

Sunset bowed her head. "I hope so, Councillor."

"I will be only Mister Emerald soon," Councillor Emerald reminded her.

"But not yet, Councillor," Sunset replied as she turned away and followed Skystar out the door.

Sunset closed it after her and kept on following Skystar as the latter led the way down the corridor, turning at a corner, and eventually bringing Sunset towards a hospital vending machine.

Skystar stood there, making no move to press any of the buttons. If there was nothing here that she wanted, Sunset supposed she couldn't really blame her.

Skystar glanced at Sunset. "You do realise you've got blood on your knuckles, right?"

Sunset covered her bloody hand with the other. "I, um … Mister Aquas had a fall."

"Onto your fist?"

Sunset shrugged. "He's an odious little toad, isn't he?"

"Mother certainly thinks so now," Skystar said. "So, you're going to work for Aspen?"

"I am," Sunset said. "I owe Vale that much, at least."

"But you won't serve just any First Councillor, only him," Skystar pointed out.

"I don't owe Vale enough to serve Leo Aquas," Sunset muttered. "You know he's a racist?"

"Mother used to say that he was a man of his time," Skystar said. "But that was before he stabbed her in the back."

Sunset frowned. "'Of his time'? But his time is now?!"

Skystar chuckled. "I think that was kind of the point: when society is racist, you can't blame people in that society for being a bit racist."

"Speak for yourself," Sunset replied. "I notice you didn't stand by Cardin for being a man of his time."

"Obviously, the rules for a boyfriend are a bit different than the rules in politics," Skystar said. "I certainly wouldn't date Leo Aquas either, even if he wasn't old enough to be my father." She paused. "Is this really what you want? Working for Aspen, I mean."

"I'm not sure how much I deserve what I want," Sunset replied. "And what I want is … out of reach, so I'll focus on what I can do."

"But what about Beacon?" asked Skystar.

"What about Beacon?" Sunset replied. "Beacon is … the tower's gone, students are sharing motel rooms because the dorms have been wrecked, I don't know how much damage there's been to the other buildings, but … and Professor Ozpin's dead. What is Beacon now? Is there such a thing?"

"The school will reopen," Skystar said. "Won't it?"

"Eventually, perhaps," Sunset answered. "But even if it does, with everything that's happened this year, I can't just … this last year has been the happiest year of my life in some ways and the worst year of my life in others. And the happy parts were all at Beacon, and the worst parts were most of the times when I left, but all the same … in spite of that, or maybe partly because of that, with everything that's happened, I can't just sit in a classroom for three more years even if that was an option. If I can do more, then that's what I need to do … somehow. I trust Councillor Emerald to point me in the right direction to make a difference."

"He is a good guy," Skystar agreed. "But, aren't you worried that, if he isn't First Councillor anymore, he won't be able to protect you?"

Sunset shrugged. "It's a chance I'll have to take."

"Fair enough, I guess," Skystar murmured. She paused for a moment. "So … you really think Beacon won't reopen?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I … don't know."

Skystar sighed, and leaned forward, pressing her hands against the wall beside the vending machine.

"This year," she whispered. "This year, this year, this year … this year was supposed to be so good, you know, and now … what a year, huh? Attacks on Vale, the Vytal Festival turned into a giant battle so that even the tournament winner might get forgotten—"

"In some kingdoms, maybe; small chance of that in Mistral," Sunset muttered.

"So many people have died, including Ozpin, a hero of Vale," Skystar went on. "And even Beacon might not exist anymore." She sniffed, and smiled wanly at Sunset. "What a year, huh?"

"Like I said, some of the worst times of my life," Sunset replied. "But, so long as it stays that way, then that means whatever comes next will be better, right? Better and brighter?" What happened this year was the result of plots that are all done now, of people who are dead or fled or changed, and all for the sake of something that is gone now. There is no need for Vale to be troubled further.

Only I can't tell you any of that.

"Better and brighter," Skystar repeated. "I'm not sure I'd say that with Leo Aquas in charge."

"Well, okay, but even so," Sunset said. "Fewer grimm attacks, no really big grimm attacks, Vale not directly threatened, I've got hope enough for that, and I think that would be … an improvement, no? Even with the wrong guy as First Councillor."

Skystar smiled again, and this time, her smile seemed a little more genuine than it had been. "I guess so," she acknowledged. "Better and brighter."

"Exactly," Sunset agreed. "Now, there are a couple of other people here I need to see, so please give your mother and Councillor Emerald my regards, and I'll see you later?"

"Got it," Skystar said.

Sunset waved goodbye to Skystar as she walked away, heading down the corridor then down a flight of stairs to where Lady Nikos was being accommodated after her moment of shining glory. Sunset was told — by Pyrrha, admittedly, but Sunset doubted she would exaggerate in this matter — that Lady Nikos had slain a member of the White Fang in defence of the Mistralian ambassador and his family, albeit at some cost to herself in the process.

That was impressive, in a woman who by her own words had grown old before her time.

Although she had paid for it.

Lady Nikos, like Councillor Emerald, was accommodated in a closed room, although her door had a window in it, and although the glass was mottled to distort the image within, nevertheless, Sunset could see that Lady Nikos was sitting up in bed, which was an improvement on Sunset’s last attempted visit.

So she slid open the door and bowed her head — Lady Nikos, she knew, would be more receptive to such courtesies than the current or former Councillors had been — as she entered.

"Good morrow, my lady," Sunset murmured. "I am glad to see you with your eyes open; when I called upon you yesterday, you were asleep under heavy medication."

"Good morning, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos replied. She made a sound that might have been a groan. "Yes, the painkillers they gave me did produce a great drowsiness, but I fear the pain would have been unbearable else." She paused a moment. "I am very glad to see you well, Miss Shimmer, come safely through the battle with life and limb intact. It gladdens me." Her aged-seeming lips cracked in a smile. "I did not wish to bear Soteria home, to place back in our family vault, there to wait and gather dust until perhaps Pyrrha could find one worthy to bear the blade in some future day. No, I did not wish that. I am glad, and glad also to hear that you have distinguished yourself. They tell me that you were there beside the Valish Councillor when he strode into the heart of his military and … nobody seems quite able to say what happened there, though all agree it was bravely done, and he is to be commended for it."

Subset snorted. "Forgive me, my lady, but if all agree that Councillor Emerald is to be commended for his actions, then why are they in such haste to throw him out of office, as I have heard they will?"

"Because greatness attracts envy?" Lady Nikos suggested. "And so, rather than bear to be shamed by the Councillor's valour, they will turn him out, although it seems strange to me that it is so easily and irregularly done." She yawned. "But I confess, the fate of Valish councillors preoccupies me little; I wished only to express my congratulations to you, Miss Shimmer, for the lustre you have added to your name."

"My lady flatters me," Sunset murmured. "For myself, that my lady has no need to bear a gilded circlet home to be stored with honour in your house is worth more to me than that my name should gleam effulgent."

Lady Nikos nodded. "I am glad that Pyrrha lives, of course, I thank the gods for it and all of Mistral shall rejoice at it also, yet I must admit to some confusion on how my daughter came to be in this hospital with me. What foe so injured her, and in what fight?"

Sunset hesitated. "You … you had perhaps best ask Pyrrha herself, my lady; I regret I was not there."

"You would have more cause to regret if you had been there and Pyrrha had taken the hurt regardless," Lady Nikos replied. "Nevertheless, though you were not there, I suspect you have some knowledge of these things regardless."

Sunset wished — she really wished — that Lady Nikos had not asked her that question. "My lady … this is not the first time that you have asked me to divulge information in which, I will concede, you have an interest, touching as it does upon Pyrrha, and yet … I fear again, I must decline to oblige you in this matter, for all the love I bear you and the obligations I hold to you, on account of the obligations which I hold to others, not least of which the late Professor Ozpin, to keep his confidences. If Pyrrha chooses to confide in you, then I will not fault her for it, but … but for myself, I can only tell you that Pyrrha received her injury in no inglorious action."

Lady Nikos stared at her, and for a moment Sunset, thought — feared — that she might suggest that, the late Professor Ozpin being late, he had no more claim upon Sunset's loyalty or her tongue.

Sunset very much hoped that Lady Nikos would not suggest such a thing; it would be unworthy of her royal race to do so, and furthermore, it would be — it would strike Sunset as — rather cruel.

Fortunately, Lady Nikos rose above such an impulse, if indeed she had ever possessed such a thing, and said, "The late Professor Ozpin? Well, I would not want you to break faith with a dead man when his corpse is scarcely cold, Miss Shimmer; no, that would reflect very ill on both of us." She paused a moment. "You must have been close with him, to have been in his confidence with matters that, although I am ignorant of the details" — she could not help her voice from sharpening a little at that — "seem to me to be of some great import."

"I…" Sunset bowed her head. "I fear that, although we were all what my lady might call intimate with Professor Ozpin, at the end, I was the only one of us who felt any great fondness towards him." She closed her eyes for a moment. "He was a kind man, patient and understanding. Or perhaps it was merely that I was grateful to be in receipt of his kindness."

"If you were, that only proves that there was kindness to be in receipt of, no?" Lady Nikos suggested. "For myself, I knew the man only by reputation, which stretched even to Mistral — though it did not lie so long there as it does in Vale — but I am sorry for your loss, Miss Shimmer."

"Thank you, my lady," Sunset murmured. "My … my lady…" She swallowed. "I … this may seem sudden and a change of subject, but nevertheless, I … I fear I cannot serve you in Mistral, at least not yet."

Lady Nikos' expression was not disappointed, for all that it was not elated either. "You will return to Beacon then?"

"I know not if there is or will be a Beacon to return to, my lady," Sunset said.

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "How can there not? It was Vale who established the first huntsman academy, who foisted that model upon the other kingdoms, who insisted upon threatened point of sword that Mistral should follow suit, how can Vale now leave its school to lie fallow, the buildings to crumble, the—?"

"The tower to fall, my lady?" Sunset asked. "That has already happened, and some buildings have already crumbled besides, and Professor Ozpin is dead. It … it seems unlikely that the school will reopen for a new term on schedule. Apart from anything else, a new headmaster cannot be appointed without all the remaining headmasters giving their voice of approval, and two of the three are far away." And one of them is a traitor.

"To say that the new term will be delayed is not the same as to say the school will not reopen," Lady Nikos pointed out. "And yet … Miss Shimmer, you surprise me, and yet at the same time, you gladden me. Would it surprise you or shock you to hear that I do not wish Pyrrha to remain in this kingdom?"

"Honestly, my lady, no, it wouldn't," Sunset admitted. "Though it might surprise me more to hear that you have spoken with Pyrrha of this already."

"I do not wish to quarrel with my daughter whilst I am in a hospital bed and she teeters on a crutch," Lady Nikos muttered. "I would have my strength restored before I enter the arena for that challenge. Or not. If, as you say, Beacon is finished, then there would be far less obstacle to Pyrrha coming home where she belongs." She paused. "For that matter, I cannot conceive what obstacle there would be to you coming with her? What is it you plan to do here in Vale, if not attend Beacon?"

"I have pledged to serve Councillor Emerald in whatever offices he shall employ me, my lady," Sunset answered.

Lady Nikos voice sounded, thankfully, more amused than piquant as she said, "I would have given you warriors to command, resources at your disposal, and rank to possess; yet you spurn me to become a dogsbody to a Valish magistrate?"

"Forgive me, my lady, but it is not out of a desire to avoid you," Sunset insisted. "Rather … I owe Vale this, I feel. I cannot turn my back upon this kingdom, not even for Mistral, and though Vale itself soon turns its back upon Councillor Emerald, I cannot. He deserves better of me."

"Your loyalty does you credit, I suppose, though I would that it were placed elsewhere," Lady Nikos muttered in a tone that verged upon the churlish. But then she rallied and said, "But, if you ever do make your escape from this land of hares and find yourself in Mistral once again, then while I live, you will always be welcome as a guest in the House of Nikos."

Sunset bowed from the waist. "I cannot say when it might be, but I hope with all my heart that day will come, my lady."

"I'm a little surprised you were able to find a boat to Menagerie," Blake said. "Glad, but a little surprised."

"I had visions of you and Gilda trying to make it there in some little rowboat with a sail on a stick," Rainbow added.

Lady Belladonna chuckled. "Well, that might have been fun for us."

"No, Mom, no, it wouldn't," Blake insisted. "It wouldn't have been fun for either of you, and it certainly wouldn't have been any fun for my nerves to imagine you trying it."

"Boats are definitely better when they have a crew," Sun agreed. "That way, you don't have to do any of the work on them. They seem pretty complicated; I think it would be hard to learn all that stuff."

They were stood on one of Vale's smaller ocean docks, right at the far southern point of the city; in fact, this dock was so small that the pier was made of wood, and the ship that waited at the end of the pier was … well, it wasn't a rowing boat with a dinky sail, but it looked as though it might be made of wood too. Or perhaps it was that Mistralian aesthetic where things were made to look old even though they weren't, and the ship had an iron hull but with wood panels over the top to make it look like a wooden ship.

Either way, it looked like a wooden ship, as well as looking … it didn't look big; it was smaller than an Atlesian cruiser or a Skyliner, and it was certainly dwarfed by any big container ship that plied the oceans for the SDC or the like, but there was a pretty steady line of people — all of them faunus — walking past Rainbow, Blake, Sun, and Lady Belladonna, their footsteps echoing on the wooden boards as they tramped up the pier to board the vessel, so either it was going to be incredibly cramped on there for Lady Belladonna and Gilda, or else it was bigger than it looked.

Or perhaps a bit of both.

Gilda had already boarded; Rainbow could see her now, sort of. She was swathed in a dark cloak, her face and her entire body hidden from view so that nobody made her and reported her to the police before the ship was safely away and bound for Menagerie, but although Rainbow couldn't make out Gilda's features, there was also no mistaking that one person hanging around at the stern all huddled beneath a black cloak like a vampire hiding from the sun.

Rainbow could see a few of the other passengers giving her curious or suspicious looks; the thought of Gilda's mounting embarrassment was, admittedly, kind of amusing to her.

A smile played upon Lady Belladonna's face as she said, "I suppose you're right. If I was going to learn to sail a boat, a voyage across continents probably wouldn't be the best place to begin. But, thankfully, the Aqua Marina is making her voyage as scheduled. I suppose the captain and crew need to make a living, in spite of everything."

"Write to me when you get home," Blake urged. "Let me know you made it safely."

"I should write to you?" Lady Belladonna asked. "I feel like I should be the one asking you to do that."

"I will," Blake said. "But I'm not the one travelling home in a wooden boat across grimm … waters that aren't free of grimm. Of the two of us, I'm not the one whose journey worries me."

Lady Belladonna nodded. "Alright," she conceded. "I'll pen some lines. I'll see if I can persuade your father to do so as well."

Blake smiled. "I'd like that."

"And he'd like to hear from you as well, obviously."

"Yes, Mom, I will write," Blake insisted. "I promise."

Lady Belladonna nodded her head once again. She sighed. "This … this is the second time I've boarded a ship to Menagerie and left you behind, standing on the pier, waving me goodbye."

Blake looked away, blinking rapidly. Her hand twitched, and for a second, Rainbow thought that she might reach up to wipe some tears away, although she didn't in the end. "Yes, well … things will be different this time, Mom."

"I hope so," Lady Belladonna said softly, turning her attention to Rainbow Dash. "Promise me, Rainbow Dash; look me in the eye and promise me that you'll take better care of my little girl than Adam did."

"Mom," Blake began. "I don't need—"

Rainbow reached out and put one hand upon Blake's shoulder, around it, even as she kept her eyes fixed upon Lady Belladonna. "Where she goes, I go; if she fights, I fight; I promise, ma'am."

Lady Belladonna smiled and put her arms around Rainbow's shoulders, though she had to get up on tiptoes to do it.

"Thank you," she whispered into Rainbow's ear, "for everything."

She released Rainbow, stepping back from her and looking now to Sun. She looked him up and down, an approving look upon her face.

"A very handsome boy," she observed.

"Mooooom," Blake groaned as Sun's face lit up with a bit of a blush.

"Are you sure that you want to slum it down in the … slums of Mantle?" Lady Belladonna. "When you could be floating in the clouds with Blake? Don't tell me white isn't your colour."

Sun chuckled as he tugged at his vest with one hand. "I like to keep my feet on the ground, Mrs. B," he said. "And I'll be doing that for Blake as well as myself."

"Alright then," Lady Belladonna allowed. "But take care of yourself. Mantle can be a rough place, as I recall from my visits there. Watch your back, or find someone you can trust to watch it for you."

"Everyone for Menagerie get on board!" a voice cried out from the ship. "We're shipping off soon, last call for Menagerie!"

Lady Belladonna looked behind her; the stream of faunus boarding the ship was now a trickle of running figures racing to get on board.

"It seems that's me," she said. Nevertheless, she turned to Blake once more, taking her daughter by both hands and leaning forwards to plant a kiss upon each cheek. "Let's make sure it's not another five years before we see each other again."

"I'd like that," Blake said. "But I'm not sure how soon I'll be able to get away to—"

"Well, that would be lovely, but I might be coming to you, and sooner than you think," Lady Belladonna said. "I'll write to you with the details."

"You're coming to Atlas?" Blake asked. "When, why—?"

"I have to go," Lady Belladonna said. "But I love you. I've always loved you. I love you … to Menagerie and back." She hesitated, her whole body trembling, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

And then she turned away, running down the wooden pier alongside the other sprinting faunus, her arms held out at her sides, her skirt bouncing up and down at her legs as she ran away from Blake, away from all of them, towards the waiting ship.

"I love you too!" Blake yelled, taking a step forward. "I love you, Mom!"

Lady Belladonna turned back, and Rainbow thought that she saw a bright smile upon her face as she waved to Blake, before turning and resuming her run.

Lady Belladonna was the last aboard, racing up the boarding platform and onto the deck moments before the crew in their striped jerseys took it away.

There was a moment of pause and nothing happening while Lady Belladonna went to stand beside the cloaked and huddled Gilda at the stern.

Then, slowly at first, like a creature waking up after a long nap, the ship began to move. The water churned in its wake, frothing and bubbling, as the vessel moved off with all the gradual inevitability of an avalanche. The wooden vessel turned away, presenting its stern to them, where Lady Belladonna and Gilda stood, looking out, looking back, looking at Blake — and at Rainbow and Sun too — as the Aqua Marina carried them away.

Blake waved. She waved furiously with one hand; she waved as she ran down the pier, with Sun and Rainbow trailing in her wake, as she ran just as her mother had done down to the edge of the docks, waving frantically as though, in spite of everything, in spite of what Lady Belladonna had said, this might be their last meeting.

Rainbow waved too — she waved to Lady Belladonna, and she waved to Gilda — but she didn't wave as fiercely or as frantically as Blake.

"I love you!" Blake shouted, almost screeched, hurling the words across the lengthening expanse of water separating them from the departing ship.

The autumn skies were clear, and at this time of day, there was no fog to obstruct the view. Conditions were so clear that they could see the ship for a long while, and for a long while, they stood there, on the docks, watching the ship getting smaller and smaller and smaller.

Until, in the end, even on this clear day, they couldn't see it anymore.

Blake's arm fell down to her side.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "For the second time, goodbye." She looked at Sun, and then at Rainbow Dash. "The last time I saw her off on a ship like this, I called her a coward. Now, I … I wanted her to know how I really felt. The second time." She reached out, putting her arms around both Sun and Rainbow Dash, drawing them in closer to her, so that the three of them were touching, rubbing shoulders with one another.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go…"

"Home?" Rainbow suggested.

Blake laughed. "Not yet. Soon, but not yet. For now, let's just go back."

Weiss stood in front of the door to General Ironwood’s office, her hands dropping to fuss with the hem of her skirt.

She wasn’t sure why she had been summoned into General Ironwood’s presence thus, and that in itself would be sufficient cause to be a little nervous. Perhaps he just wanted to see how she was — she wouldn’t go so far as to accuse him of wanting to ingratiate himself with her, because he had had plenty of opportunities to do that before and had left it rather late — but Winter’s tone when she had delivered the request had been … subdued, to say the least.

The fact that she hadn’t been willing or able to tell Weiss why it was important for her to report to General Ironwood aboard his ship was something that, well, it gave Weiss more cause for concern.

Not worry, but concern to be sure.

The yeoman, who looked barely older than Weiss herself, touched her earpiece and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She looked at Weiss with hazel eyes. “You can go through, Miss Schnee. The General will see you now.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said softly as she took the first step forward.

The door into General Ironwood’s office slid open for her, revealing General Ironwood’s office — a slightly smaller space than Weiss might have expected, but she supposed that aboard ship even more than on Atlas, space was at a premium even for flag officers.

Nevertheless, there was space enough for Winter to be there already, standing next to General Ironwood’s desk with her hands clasped behind her back.

Her expression did not look promising. In fact, she looked downright miserable, and she wasn’t looking straight at Weiss as she entered.

The door slid shut behind her. General Ironwood rose from behind his seat, putting one hand to his heart as he half-bowed to her at the waist.

“Miss Schnee,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

Weiss curtsied. “General. Thank you for the invitation; it was rather surprising to receive it.”

“Yes,” General Ironwood murmured as he sat down again, resting both hands upon the metallic surface of his desk. “Do you have any word of Mister Sentry’s condition?”

“He’s still in the plant dust bath, General,” Weiss said. “They’re keeping him unconscious in there, for obvious reasons.”

Plant dust had medicinal properties, for reasons that no one could adequately explain beyond a vague connection to the idea of herbs, but it was most efficacious when turned into a saline solution that could either be applied intravenously or, for particularly serious injuries, used to immerse wounded personnel. Flash was so immersed; the last time Weiss had seen him, he’d been floating in a glass jar filled with plant dust solution, with his eyes closed and an oxygen mask over his face connected to an air pipe. Neon Katt, Weiss’ opponent in the quarter finals, had been similarly immersed, while Ciel Soleil kept watch over her.

Weiss had stayed there a while, but the sense of helplessness, of not being able to do anything for Flash, anything to assist him in any way, had driven her out of the room.

It had almost been a relief to receive General Ironwood’s invitation; she could leave and not feel like such a coward.

“I see,” General Ironwood said calmly. “Yes, for serious injuries, several days of immersion can be required, at least; they’ll want to make sure that his wounds are completely healed before the process for getting him prosthetics can begin.”

“You’ll be taking Flash back to Atlas for that, I suppose,” Weiss said. “I imagine, with the CCT down, it would be hard for Flash to get what he needs here in Vale.”

Winter cleared her throat.

General Ironwood’s hands clenched.

“Yes, Miss Schnee, Mister Sentry will be coming home to Atlas,” General Ironwood said. “And I’m afraid he won’t be alone. A fast frigate, the Hound, recently arrived from Atlas, despatched by the Council not long after the CCT went down. Its orders were to reconnoitre, determine the outcome of the battle and the fate of Vale, and to deliver certain messages in case the battle had not been lost and the fleet had not been destroyed. Amongst those messages is an instruction from the Council — to me — that I am to bring you home to Atlas along with the rest of my forces, the Atlas Academy students, and any other Atlas citizens who wish to take up the offer of Atlesian protection and assistance home.”

“But I am mentioned explicitly?” Weiss asked.

“Yes, Miss Schnee.”

“By name?”

“Yes,” General Ironwood repeated. “Miss Schnee. The Council feels that it is undesirable for the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, and the most highly placed Atlesian in the Vytal Tournament, to remain in an unstable kingdom with communications between Vale and Atlas cut off.”

“You mean my father feels that way,” Weiss said.

“My orders come from the Council, Miss Schnee,” General Ironwood said. “Not from your father.”

“As if the Atlesian Council gives a—” Weiss cut off the curse, because there were standards to be maintained, after all. She wasn’t going to stand in General Ironwood’s office and start cussing like a Mantle miner in front of the commanding officer. She clasped her hands behind her back, mirroring Winter’s posture but looking the problem straight in the face. “I doubt the Council would be so concerned if it weren’t for my father, although I’m surprised that he still has so much influence.”

“He’s still a very wealthy man,” General Ironwood said. “No matter what scandals may have hit his reputation, he still has many people who owe him favours or seek his support.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Weiss murmured as she clasped her hands more tightly behind her back.

Back to Atlas. Back to her Father, then.

She was almost surprised that he was bothering to send for her; surely, he had not been struck by a sudden outpouring of paternal affection. Perhaps he was afraid that leaving her in Vale would make him look bad.

More likely, he had seen the moment to achieve a longstanding desire of his.

Father had never wanted her to go to Beacon, after all; he had never wanted her to leave Atlas, leave home, leave his power. He had never wanted her to become a huntress.

He had been unable to prevent her departure, though he had tried. He had set a test for her, a test he had been sure she would not pass. She had passed it, with flying colours if she said so herself, and Father had kept his word with as much grace as he could muster.

He had used her need for his assistance earlier to wheedle her into returning home for the vacation. And now … now, in the midst of this great international crisis, he saw the opportunity to get what he wanted.

A flash of anger shot through Weiss that her father should think about such things at a time like this. With the world in chaos, with communications lost, with people dead and badly wounded, and this was what he chose to do?

Didn't he have enough to do worrying about how the company would cope with the loss of worldwide communications?

Probably, but a solution to such a problem was likely beyond him at present, whereas to whisper in the ear of the friends he still had on the Council and make General Ironwood his proxy in dragging his errant daughter home was the work of mere moments for him.

"I," Weiss began, "don't suppose there's any way that you could … say that I went missing in the battle or say that I slipped out of your grasp — a grasp that you did not try very hard to close around me—"

"Miss Schnee," General Ironwood said, not unkindly but not as sympathetically as Weiss might have liked. "I'm not in the habit of disobeying direct instructions."

"But you're on the Council!" Weiss cried. "Surely—"

"There was a quorum of four votes at the Council session, and the vote was unanimous." General Ironwood informed her. "Even if I and Councillor Cadenza both voted against this, it wouldn't change the Council's decision."

"But it's the wrong decision!" Weiss yelled. "Are you really going to abandon Vale when they're struggling to rebuild and just … just run away with your tail between your legs?!"

"Weiss!" Winter hissed. "That is uncalled for!"

"No, Schnee, it's a fair point," General Ironwood allowed. "Although with the losses the grimm sustained during the battle, I don't believe that they'll be in a position to threaten Vale again in the near future or even the medium term. Their power has been broken, as it was after Ozpin defeated the horde that swept out of Mountain Glenn a generation ago." He paused. "I'm sorry, Miss Schnee; it's out of my hands."

"You are quite mistaken, General; it is as in your hands as I am," Weiss whispered, because there were plain as day any number of things that General Ironwood could do to help her escape this fate. He could report her dead, he could report her missing, he could let her run away and flee to … to where?

Where would Weiss go, if not back to Atlas? To Beacon? Beacon was currently in shambles and in no condition to receive her, shelter her; she could not stay in a ruined, shuttered school whose date of reopening was uncertain and whose headmaster could not be replaced. Elsewhere in Vale, but where? She had no friends here save Cardin and Russel, and even if they were willing to hide her from her father, she would be treading heavily upon their friendship to ask it of them. Lieutenant Martinez … it was still touch and go, they said. She might live, or she might not, and even if she lived…

No, there would be no help there.

No help, no help and no choice. No choice but to return to Atlas, and her Father's house, and her Father's iron grasp.

She had no choice; she had no choice because there was nowhere to go and because General Ironwood would not disobey his orders for her sake. She would go home to Atlas, either in whatever small comfort could be provided or in the brig.

"This might be for the best, Miss Schnee," General Ironwood suggested. "Vale is in a state of confusion at the moment; there are reports that the First Councillor will resign — again — and it will take some time before Beacon is ready to reopen. In the meantime, you would be stranded in a foreign city, under unknown administration, with no access to Atlesian assistance. It would be an uncertain situation to leave you in."

"Thank you for your concern, General," Weiss sniffed, because the infuriating fact that he had a point didn't mean that she had to like or appreciate it.

Back to Atlas. Back to that house. Back to that cold house, that loveless house, that mausoleum of a residence. Back to her father and to the wreck of her mother.

Back to the last place she wanted to be.

Back to her cage.

It felt as though the cage door had already slammed shut on her. It had done so the moment she had stepped into General Ironwood's office.

"If … if I were to run—" she began.

"Where would you run to?" asked Winter, not unkindly.

"I don't know," Weiss admitted. "But if I did—"

"I would have to have people search for you and bring you in," General Ironwood answered, his tone softer than his words deserved. "I'm sorry, Miss Schnee, truly; I'm aware that this isn't what you wanted. But it is the will of Atlas, and as such, it is inescapable."

'The will of Atlas.' Even after all that has been revealed, my father is still so mighty that he may bend the will of Atlas to his own?

Of course he is. Scandal has not touched his wealth.

“The will of Atlas,” Weiss murmured. “Is it the will of Atlas that I may not … would Atlas mind so much if I were to stay at Atlas Academy? You will need good men and women, after the losses of this battle.”

“Father will not like it,” Winter warned.

“I thought we spoke of Atlas’ will,” Weiss said, “not Father’s.”

“And when Father disowns you, as he did me, and bestows the promise of the Schnee inheritance on Whitley, what then?” Winter asked. “Consider that, before you put the General in a very difficult position.”

Weiss had not considered that. She considered it now, and … it was all very well to declare that you would do without money when you had no experience in doing without money and all the doors that money opened. It would be all very well for her to declare that she could manage disownment without really thinking about what it would mean for her to be disowned.

And, perhaps more to the point, there was Blake, and Rainbow Dash too, but Blake especially. Weiss had promised her that she would do good, that she would change the SDC for the better, that they, together, would work to make Atlas an even better, a fairer and a juster place.

She would not be able to hold up her end of their compact if she descended at a step to the level of some Mantle indigent, a Happy Huntress but better dressed — for now.

No, she could not turn her back on her inheritance, not even for freedom. Whitley … she could not trust Whitley to do what must be done.

She would have to go home, and endure, in service to a greater cause, as many others had endured much worse in service to the causes they believed in.

Weiss closed her eyes and tried to find a silver lining to this particular cloud.

It was hard work.

At least … at least I'll be there for Flash when he wakes up.

"Thank you for telling me yourself, General," she murmured. "I appreciate it. I won't make this difficult for you in any way."

"I appreciate that, Miss Schnee," he replied. “I understand that this isn’t what you would wish, but no one’s freedom is without limit, and as a public figure… your freedom is more limited than some who are less in the public eye. You belong to Atlas as much as to yourself.”

Weiss breathed in and out. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Miss Schnee," General Ironwood said. "That's all."

"I don't understand, Professor; why me?"

Professor Goodwitch looked down at her through her half-moon spectacles. Her expression was a study in neutrality, not stern but not at all sympathetic-seeming either. "Because Professor Ozpin was fond of you, though his reasons were known only to himself. I think this might please him." She paused. "It might even amuse him, when he learns of it."

As Sunset waited, she could only assume that Professor Goodwitch meant when Professor Ozpin learnt of it in the next life, having presumably been informed of it by some new arriving spirit — perhaps Sunset's own shade, if only she believed in such things.

Her words made little sense else.

For herself, even if she accepted Professor Goodwitch's premise, she was not so sure that Professor Ozpin's spirit would find this chuckle-worthy. Surely, the occasion would be too dour for him to find any amusement in it; rather, he would be plunged into renewed depression by the memory of his fall.

Certainly, I would rather have you alive than have this honour on my shoulders, Professor.

The day was a chilly one; Sunset's breath misted up before her face, and her hands were cold. She clenched and unclenched them, which did very little to add any warmth to her chilly fingers, but she could do little else. There was a certain decorum about the day that prevented her shoving her hands into her pockets or beneath her armpits.

Some things would never do at a funeral.

Sunset was dressed in a black tailcoat and skirt, with high black boots and a dark grey waistcoat on beneath the coat, covering most of her crisp white dress shirt from view. The outfit did not entirely fit her; it was tight around the chest and especially around her neck, where she wore a wide black tie beneath her collar. Her hands were concealed beneath a pair of white cotton gloves which were unfortunately too thin to provide any warmth. Her hair was tied back in a low bun at the nape of her neck, as tight as the volume of her mane could make it, even as her tail — in the one alteration there had been time to make to her outfit — descended out of the trousers to take its habitual place between her legs.

A top hat and a black cane sat on a low wall nearby, waiting for her.

As she waited for all other things to be in readiness.

Professor Ozpin's funeral was to be a grand affair: a procession through the streets of Vale and across the fields beyond, up the Beacon road to the cliffs looking out over the Emerald Forest where, upon the grounds of his school and gazing out upon the home of those monsters from which he had ever defended Vale, Professor Ozpin would be given to the flames.

Sunset would lead the way, and behind her would come the hearse, the limousines, and then behind the cars would march all the students from Beacon, from Atlas, perhaps even from Haven too, and the people of Vale would line the streets to pay their respects to the great hero of Vale who had fallen in Vale's greatest battle of the modern age.

That was the theory, anyway. It was to be a grand funeral, a funeral worthy of a hero and a great man, but Sunset felt that it was perhaps not the funeral that Professor Ozpin would have chosen. He had been a good man, one might say that he had been a great man, but Sunset would not call him a grand man, sitting up in his sparsely decorated office with only so much empty space for company, dressing like a fusty antiquarian; not grand, not grand at all.

Perhaps he would have preferred a private funeral, with his teachers and General Ironwood and a few chosen intimates in attendance, but…

But, being dead, the matter was out of his hands. Councillor Emerald — who remained First Councillor largely, as far as Sunset could tell, because Mister Aquas didn't want to take power and immediately as his first act have to hold a funeral; the start informs the race, as the Mistralians said — had decided upon — or at least had put into execution long laid plans that called for — this lavish funeral, with a procession through the streets and a public cremation on the grounds of Beacon and a parade of the students following on behind.

Only a few details had been left to Professor Goodwitch to determine, including the question of who would lead the procession.

It was a great honour, an honour that Professor Goodwitch had bestowed upon Sunset's shoulders, although as she looked around, Sunset wondered if it was meant as honour or — as Professor Goodwitch had said — as a sign of Professor Ozpin's favour, or whether it was simply that Professor Goodwitch wanted Sunset to walk on her own down the streets with everybody staring at her.

A crowd had gathered. This display was supposed to, in some fashion, reassure the people of Vale, restore their confidence, revive their spirit. Everyone knew that the Atlesians would be leaving soon; their Council had called them home, and only the propriety of remaining for Professor Ozpin's funeral had kept General Ironwood around. Soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow, the northern ships and northern soldiers would be gone, and Vale would be forced to look to its own defences.

Considering that when Vale had faced the great crisis, the response of its own defenders had been — as far as the public knew — to run manic, shoot at the Atlesians, then run away from the grimm, Sunset could understand why people might not find that very reassuring. There had been talk of Valish trying to buy their way aboard the Atlesian ships — and Sunset knew that that was no wild rumour because Leaf's mother had come to her asking if she could introduce her to Blake and Rainbow Dash so that they could get her family spots onboard; Sunset had facilitated the introduction and saddled them with the job of explaining to Leaf's mother that there were no berths available for civilians; why should she take the blame for Atlesian policy? — or else of overstuffed skyliners filled with panicked people who meant to follow the fleet northwards to some sense of security. Other ships were preparing to fly east, and they weren't just carrying Haven students or Mistralian tourists home.

The people of Vale lacked confidence, and it wasn't hard to understand why. What was perhaps harder to understand was the idea that a funeral of all things was just what was needed to revitalise the flagging morale of the city. A reminder that Vale had lost its hero, and many others besides, was as likely to make people think that Valish greatness was gone beyond recall as it was to convince them that the city was safe and sound and there was nothing to fear.

That was Sunset's thought, in any case. She could be wrong. Certainly, the funeral had gotten people out of their houses, if nothing else; crowds were lining the streets on either side of the road, waiting. They were not dressed for a funeral, for the most part, but they were here, standing on the roadside, bodies pressed up against the metal barriers that lined the road, eyes turned towards the stationary procession.

Eyes on Sunset.

Sunset shivered, and not just from the cold; of all the reasons for her to be the centre of attention, this was not one that she would ever have relished. Certainly, she did not relish it now.

The crowd looked at her, and Sunset looked back at them; they were, for the most part, too far off for Sunset to make out much, but she thought for a moment that she caught a glimpse of Professor Ozpin himself standing in the crowd of his own funeral, holding a cup of hot chocolate in his hand, a genial smile upon his face as he watched her.

Her imagination playing tricks.

Sunset looked back, to where the hearse was, to where the limousines waited behind, to where a long column of students waited to march.

It hadn't been so long ago that they had marched by teams to commence the Vytal Tournament; not so long, and yet, it felt like an eternity ago.

Councillor Emerald was speaking to the driver of the hearse; the First Councillor — for now, if not for much longer — wore a black suit, with a green velvet tie as a concession to colour. He glanced at Sunset, and Sunset almost thought that she saw an encouraging smile upon his face, before he turned away and opened one of the doors to the leading limousine.

The first car would carry the Valish Council; the second car would carry Professor Goodwitch, Professor Port, Doctor Oobleck, and General Ironwood; and after that would come the students.

There was no car for any friends or family of the headmaster, nor were any such in attendance. In the light of his funeral, the Professor's life seemed restricted to his work, no circle beyond his colleagues, no family.

He had a family. One fair daughter and no more, who betrayed him to his death.

Put like that, it was almost enough to make it seem as though he would have done better to have stuck with his colleagues, though Sunset knew that neither Princess Celestia nor Princess Twilight would see it in that way. Nor, for that matter, did Sunset herself, who could not help but wonder — though it was really far too late to wonder — if Professor Ozpin had been happy in his life.

Fighting Salem, leading a war from the shadows, selecting unwitting young women to take on the burden of immense magical power at the cost of being hunted all their lives, who wouldn't want a life like that?

Put like that, it will be a minor miracle if they can find anyone willing to take his place.

Sunset had not heard any word on that; as far as she knew, nobody had ascended to Professor Ozpin's position of leadership — nor, for that matter, had Pyrrha, for all that she seemed to have ascended in more ways than one, raised to a higher position in Professor Goodwitch's confidence than Sunset occupied. No doubt, that was something that Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood felt they could not decide on their own, without other members of the inner circle present.

Sunset felt that if the selection were to fall upon Professor Goodwitch, then her own services would not be in great demand. She would be entirely at the disposal of Councillor Emerald — or Mister Emerald, as he would be soon enough.

But that lay in the future. For now, she had a procession to lead.

She turned away and heard the engine of the hearse behind her begin to rumble softly as she picked her top hat off the low wall and placed it on top of her head. She picked up the black cane, weighing it in her right hand. It felt sturdy, solid, substantial, but not quite heavy. Certainly, it didn't feel as heavy as her responsibility today.

Sunset stepped into the middle of the road. Everything felt so quiet. The only noise was the hum of the engine of the hearse as it waited, and even that was a soft thing, a quiet thing.

Sunset glanced back, to make sure that it was ready. Inside the hearse lay Professor Ozpin, lying in state, visible through the glass to anyone watching from the sidelines but invisible to her.

Sunset was glad of that; she didn’t want to see him again, not like that.

Sunset looked away, focussing her attention forwards, down the road.

She knew the way. She had studied it obsessively.

She just hoped her feet would not betray her before she reached Beacon.

Okay, Professor. Here we go.

Sunset raised the cane above her head and took the first step forward.

Sunset walked forward at a measured pace, not striding so fast that she would exhaust herself too soon, not shuffling along; her boots tapped lightly on the tarmac of the road as she walked forward, setting the pace for the rest of the grand funeral procession behind.

Setting the pace for Professor Ozpin's final journey.

She kept her back straight, her head up, and she did not look back; she would not, not now. She might glance upwards at the drones that hovered overhead, recording the procession — recording it for who, with the CCT down? Perhaps for the hope that the network would be restored and everyone would want to see what they'd been missing — but she would not look back, not now that the procession had begun.

If she looked back now, if she stopped or stumbled, she would embarrass Professor Ozpin, and she would not do that.

She had been an imperfect servant to him in life, but in death — in his death — she would be the best servant he could ask for.

However little that really helped him.

The hearse followed on behind her, the soft growling of its engine a baritone counterweight to the tenor of her thoughts.

Vale was a big city, as the late Dove had discovered when he had tried to walk across it. Professor Ozpin's final voyage was not carrying him so far as the entire length of Vale, only a part of it, but it was a substantial part regardless, and the sun rose up into the sky higher and higher as Sunset led the way through streets lined with metal barriers to hold the crowds at bay. The morning that had been so chilly in the autumnal crispness became almost warm — or perhaps Sunset had merely warmed herself up with all this walking.

Sunset led the procession beneath tall skyscrapers of glass and steel, and between rows of brick terraces, the houses squashed together with no room between them. She led Professor Ozpin through suburban-style districts of detached dwellings and past large and looming warehouses close to the wall.

Sunset walked through the streets of Vale, hoping that the touch of sweat she could feel upon her arms would progress no further, and as she walked, as she led the way between the crowds that stood upon the sides of the road, she thought more than once that she could see Professor Ozpin there.

And not Professor Ozpin only; sometimes, Sunset's mind swore blind to her that it had caught a glimpse of Amber, or of Dove, the ghosts standing in the crowd and watching her.

But ghosts supplied by her own mind only, not real, lacking in substance.

Just her imagination, or her desire that it should be so, that they should be happy and whole and all well.

But they were not. Some might be happy, but Sunset felt little of merriment within herself, and they were certainly not all well. Professor Ozpin, Amber, Dove, all gone. And others too: Yang especially amongst them. Yang dead. Yang, Dove, Amber, and Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin most of all.

They watched her as she walked between the towers and the houses, down the roads. Some of the roads down which she led the way were littered with abandoned Valish military equipment: an armoured car here, a cumbersome tank there; they had been abandoned, either because they had broken down like that one tank outside the military headquarters or because, freed from Sonata's influence, the crew had no longer wanted anything to do with the vehicles, Sunset couldn't say. All she knew was that the vehicles had been left there, not recovered, simply pushed to the sides of the road to clear the way for the hearse.

It was … Sunset felt as though it ought to mean something, the remnants of Vale's failed military watching the funeral of a Valish hero, but in her head, she couldn't quite decide what it added up to: the futility of military power and the primacy of Professor Ozpin's huntsmen; a more general Valish malaise, dead vehicles watching a dead man as Valish pretension to greatness crumbled; a reminder that Professor Ozpin had not been the only casualty of the night?

Sunset couldn't decide. Perhaps it meant all those things or nothing at all; most likely, the scholars of some future would pick and choose their preferred explanation to fit their thesis.

But the presence of the abandoned vehicles — couldn't they have found someone to drive them away? — wasn't helping to create an atmosphere of Valish resilience; rather, it was reminding everyone of all the things this grand funeral was supposed to be driving off.

Certainly, from what Sunset could tell, nobody watching from the sides of the street seemed particularly enthused by all of this. Their expressions were grim, hard-edged, wary; there was an atmosphere in the air like a herd of animals that might panic and run at the first sign of a predator.

Yet there was respect too; out of the corners of her eye, Sunset could see the crowd bowing their heads as the hearse drew near, and here and there, she saw flowers thrown out beyond the metal barriers. They did not fall beneath her feet or under the wheels of the hearse, but lay on the road, undisturbed in the afternoon sunshine: asphodel, rosemary for remembrance, white lilies and camelias.

Eventually, as the sun passed its zenith up above, Sunset reached the ruin of the Freedom Gate. The bodies, the most evidence of the ruin wrought by the dragon, had been cleared away, and a way had been opened up in the makeshift, hastily erected barricade for the procession to move through.

A group of labouring men and women, their fluorescent jackets and bright yellow hard hats looking incongruous to the muted colours of the day, stood beside the roadside, perhaps ready to re-erect the barricade again as swiftly as possible. As the hearse approached, they took off their hats, and Sunset saw one of them make a sort of religious symbol, his fingers tracing a pattern through the air.

It was not long after that Sunset was moving through the suburbs and beyond, goats scattering out of her way — thank Celestia, Sunset couldn't imagine preserving the dignity of the funeral whilst a goat was trying to nibble on her tailcoat — as the crowds fell away, and the road belonged to the procession alone.

Sunset was leading the way across open country now, across the ground that the Atlesians had fought over in the battle, and while much of their equipment had been recovered, they had left the most irreparably damaged of it lying here, the crumpled and crushed remains of shredded Paladins and ripped apart airships littering the grass fields on either side of the road as Professor Ozpin's funeral wound towards Beacon.

Sunset was wondering if that, like the abandoned Valish military gear within the city, might mean something, when she realised that the soft hum of the hearse's engine behind her had stopped.

Sunset slowed her pace somewhat and debated whether she could risk turning around.

The crowds had gone, and besides, the indignity of having to stop would be much less than the humiliation of walking up to Beacon and leaving Professor Ozpin behind, so she stopped.

She stopped and turned around and saw that the hearse had stopped. As Sunset watched, she saw the driver get out and pop the hood.

The smoke that emerged did not look promising.

Sunset boggled. It had broken down. The hearse had broken down? Well, if that didn't just sum this kingdom right up! For a moment, Sunset almost forgot the solemnity of the occasion to yell at the fact, and at the indignity done to Professor Ozpin by this incompetence … then she wondered if Professor Ozpin would care, and she was filled with a sadness for Councillor Emerald, whose desire to bring Vale together had turned into an exhibition of how broken this unhappy kingdom was.

Sunset would have taken more grim satisfaction from the fact that this would all be Mister Aquas' problem soon if she hadn't also promised Councillor Emerald that it would be her problem.

Also her problem was the question of just what now? The whole procession had come to a halt. The limousines had stopped behind the hearse, and behind them, Sunset could see the students stretching backwards into the suburbs.

Could she use her telekinesis to lift up the hearse? Perhaps, but Sunset wasn't altogether certain it would be appropriate.

She saw Pyrrha approaching, dressed in her school uniform, but with a black armband on her left arm, where she would have worn her gold honour band normally.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset but approached the driver of the hearse, murmuring something to him which, after a moment, persuaded him to shut the hood of the vehicle and return to the driver's seat. He shut the door behind him.

For a moment, Sunset wondered if Pyrrha was going to use her semblance to move the vehicle, but instead, she retreated to the rear of the hearse, bent her back, laid her hands upon the black-painted metal, and began to push.

The hearse rolled silently forward, the open road and presently flat terrain offering little resistance. The hearse rolled forward, but nevertheless, Sunset could see others coming up from the procession to lend their strength to Pyrrha's own: Jaune, Penny, Ren and Nora too, and Weiss Schnee, all of them laying hands upon the hearse however they could, pushing it from the back or the sides, moving the hearse and its silent, ever-slumbering passenger along.

Sunset could not help but think that Professor Ozpin would appreciate this more than any other aspect of this entire funeral, and the thought set a smile playing across her face as she turned around and resumed her walk down the road.

She could hear the others behind grunting a little more with the effort as they pushed the hearse up the Beacon road on the last leg towards the school — the crashed Skyray that had been here before was gone, either salvaged or just moved aside for decorum’s sake — but they did it, and the procession made its way up to Beacon and the cliffs overlooking the Emerald Forest where once, long ago, a seemingly impossibly long time ago and yet at the same time just one year ago, they had gathered to be hurled into the forest to be initiated and sorted into their teams.

A lot had happened since then, and now a pyre stood upon the clifftop, stout wooden poles piled in a rectangle rising upwards taller than Pyrrha.

It was garlanded atop with flowers, like the flowers that had been thrown atop the roadside. Sunset stopped and stared for a moment at the empty pyre, before she took a step back and melted into the ranks of the Beacon students as the rest of the funeral procession arrived.

As she did so, Sunset looked around; she could see Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny with the hearse, she could see Weiss, she could see Cardin and Russel, but where was Ruby? Sunset looked around, finally turning her neck freely after keeping it straight for so long, trying to determine where Ruby was, if she was here at all.

Sunset wondered if she might have not come, having already set out to serve the mistress of Starhead, too disgusted with Professor Ozpin to bid him farewell.

But no, there she was; Sunset caught sight of her standing off, distant from the other students. Unlike them, she wasn't wearing her school uniform, but rather, her huntress outfit, which was certainly black enough for the occasion. She stood to the rear and to one side, in a position where she could see without anyone's head or height getting in the way.

Her attention was fixed upon the funeral itself, to which Sunset returned her own attention, as Pyrrha and the others stopped the hearse a safe and respectful distance from the pyre.

As the Valish councillors emerged from their limousine — Councillor Emerald had a touch of red about his face, and Sunset guessed he was less appreciative of the students having to push the hearse than Sunset had been — General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch and the other teachers climbed out of theirs. It was General Ironwood who, with a great tenderness, opened up the back of the hearse and bore Professor Ozpin out, gently, reverently carrying him to the pyre, climbing the steps and placing him on top of the flower-strewn pile of wood.

Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Nora, Ren, and Weiss melted into the crowd of gathered students, even as Sunset had.

Professor Goodwitch approached the pyre, a red fire dust crystal clutched in one hand.

She turned to face the crowd, the students gathered by their school with their black armbands on. She swept her bespectacled gaze across them, and her voice rang out across the cliffs.

"Professor Ozpin would not have wanted a long eulogy, so I will be brief," she said. "There is much that I could say about him: a mentor and a friend to his colleagues, a wise, compassionate voice to his students, a hero and a champion to Vale. Professor Ozpin lived long and did much deserving of remembrance, but I will not dwell on it, because he would not wish it so. Because he would wish me to be brief, I…" She faltered, and a sound like a sob escaped her. "Forgive me, my heart is on the pyre." She drew a breath. "Professor Ozpin's body is no more, but though we commit that body to the flames, be in no doubt that his spirit will endure, immortal … in the hearts of all of you, his students. I don't pretend to know what the future holds, but as you go forwards, if you carry with you the values that Professor Ozpin prized, the values of courage, comradeship, compassion, then I have no doubt that you will make him proud. As an Atlesian poet once wrote:

"This is the word that year on year,

While in its place the school is set,

Every one of her children hear,

And none that hears it dare forget,

This they all with a joyful mind,

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling … and falling fling to the host behind,

Play up! Play up! And play the game."

Professor Goodwitch turned away, and the fire dust crystal began to spark in her hand as she flung it onto the pyre.

The flames from the burning crystal caught the wood, climbing up the stacked sticks, filling the air with smoke that smelled sweetly from the burning flowers.

The flames rose all around Professor Ozpin, consuming his body from view as they devoured it.

Sunset did not look away; she forced herself to look into the flames, to look past the flames as those same flames fed fay upon Professor Ozpin and turned him all to ashes.

Only when it was done, and ashes were all that remained, did Sunset avert her blinking, smoke stained eyes.

"Goodbye, Professor."

Author's Note

Two abiding memories of my grandfather's funeral made it into this chapter: the funeral director, in her top hat and tailcoat, walking in front of the hearse as it started down the street, and a group of workmen doing some roadworks taking their hats off as we drove by.

If that image hadn't stuck with me I probably would never have considered having Sunset lead the funeral procession, but it did, and I think it's a nice end to their relationship, a nice way for Sunset to pay tribute to him at the end, and I think Professor Goodwitch is right and Ozpin would have liked it.

The fact that the hearse breaks down, as well as being a metaphor for the state of Vale right now, is a reference to the funeral of Queen Victoria, when the horses refused to pull the gun carriage with the coffin on it and the sailors had to push it through the streets instead.

It wasn't my intent when I wrote the downfall of Novo Aris to sort of mirror contemporary British politics, with three First Councillors coming and going inside of a year and the loser of the first contest coming back to pick up the pieces after the winner fails, but nevertheless that seems to be what has happened. Some of you may be as shocked and outraged as Sunset about the fate of Councillor Emerald, who deserves better than he's been given here, but Vale has not had a good night, and regardless of Aspen's personal heroism somebody has to take the blame for that, and taking the blame is his dubious privilege as the man in charge.

All Roads, Part Two (New)

All Roads, part two

As the fire of Ozpin's funeral pyre burned out, Ruby prepared to leave.

A part of her would rather not have come in the first place. Ozpin hadn't meant that much to her. In fact, her respect for the man had been … well, there hadn't been very much of it left. He, and his school, had not been what Ruby had expected they would be, not upheld the values she had expected they would.

It was a petty thing, and under different circumstances, Ruby wouldn't have thought much of it, but Professor Goodwitch's eulogy kind of proved Ruby's point. Play up and play the game? This wasn't a game! Real lives were in their hands!

Yes, it was an Atlesian poem, not about Beacon, and Professor Goodwitch had probably just chosen it because it was about a school — which was why, if she'd been feeling better, Ruby would have extended more benefit of the doubt — but … it was unfortunate, at least for Ruby personally.

It was a perfect example of why she hadn't wanted to come and pay respects to a man for whom she had so little respect left.

But she had come anyway, partly because, whatever she'd thought about him, Ozpin had been a hero; he had saved Vale, and so for that alone, he deserved respect, even if Ruby didn't feel it for him herself. And partly … because this wasn’t just for Ozpin. It was for Yang too, in a sense, and for everyone else who had given their lives.

In a sense. That was how Ruby saw it, anyway.

But anyway, she'd come to the funeral, out of obligation to Ozpin’s reputation and for the sake of her sister and others beside Ozpin who wouldn’t get lavish funerals even if they deserved them, but now, the funeral was done. There was going to be a reception in and around Benni Haven's — a place that had come through the entire battle intact, luckily for its owner — but Ruby was under no obligation to stick around for that.

Whether she wanted to … a part of her wanted to turn away, to slip away, just leave. Just creep off into the … daylight.

Another part of her didn't want that at all, if only because it would have felt like letting them win.

"Ruby!"

It was Penny's voice that hailed her, drawing Ruby's attention.

Penny herself approached rapidly, dodging around various other students in order to reach Ruby as quickly as she could.

"You're not leaving right now, are you?" Penny asked.

"I … I hadn't decided yet," Ruby murmured, in case Penny told her that was a good thing as she wouldn't be welcome, then Ruby could steal away with her dignity intact.

"Please don't," Penny urged. "Please, come to the reception. Everyone else is going to be there, and I think … I think that you should be there too."

"Do you?" Ruby asked. "Do you really?"

"Yes!" Penny insisted. "You're a part of … all this, just like me." She paused. "I understand how you feel. I might be the only one who gets why you want to leave so badly. I don't like it, I wish that you were sticking around, but I get it. You want to be free, just like I did. I do. Like I … am I free now, or later?"

Ruby chuckled. She covered her mouth with one hand. "Well, do you feel free? Do you feel like you could do whatever you want and no one could stop you?"

"Yes," Penny said at once. "Yes, I do, although…"

Ruby frowned. "Although what?"

"It doesn't matter," said Penny quickly. "Not right now. What I was trying to say is, well what I actually said was that you want to be free, just like me, right?"

Ruby nodded. "That's right, Penny, just … well, maybe not just like you, but close enough, sure."

Penny nodded. "Rainbow, Ciel, they thought they knew what was best for me, but I had to find my own way. I still have to find my own way. I get it. I understand why you have to go and find your own way instead of letting other people make decisions for you. And I hope you're happy, wherever you go."

Ruby nodded and smiled a little. "I hope you're happy too, Penny."

"It would make me happy if you came inside?" Penny suggested hopefully.

Ruby snorted. “Well, then, how can I say no?”

"Really?" Penny repeated. "You mean you'll come in?"

"I was thinking about it anyway," Ruby said. "But yes, yes, I will. But first," — she reached out and grabbed Penny by the sleeve before she could go anywhere — "what's up?"

"We don't need to talk about it now," Penny said.

"That doesn't mean we can't," Ruby replied. "Come on, what's up?"

"I…” Penny's face fell. "I don't know what to do. Or I don't know where to go. I wanted to stay at Beacon and be a part of Team Sapphire, but now there is no Team Sapphire anymore. Pyrrha and Jaune are going to Mistral—"

"They are?" Ruby asked. She hadn't heard. Nobody had told her, not that there was any reason they should.

Penny nodded. "Professor Goodwitch asked them to go and help your uncle."

Ruby felt a twinge of jealousy that she hadn't been asked to go and help Uncle Qrow fight the good fight, but she had to admit that Pyrrha made more sense to go; she was a Mistralian, she knew the city, and people would probably be begging for her to come home anyway after everything that had happened on Vale this year, and with the CCT down.

And what would she have done in Mistral when she wasn't helping Uncle Qrow? She'd have been bored stiff.

Not to mention she would have had to … talk to him about Yang.

No, Pyrrha could have all of Mistral, and welcome to it. Ruby just hoped that she could keep her powers a secret.

"So, Pyrrha and Jaune are going to Mistral," Ruby said, guessing at the cause of Penny's discomfort. She wasn't so attached to the physical buildings of Beacon Academy, after all. "And Sunset—"

"Sunset's staying in Vale, to help Councillor Emerald," Penny explained.

Ruby had expected that Sunset might have been sent to Atlas by Professor Goodwitch; to hear that she was sticking around here in Vale made her eyes widen. "She's staying to help Councillor Emerald? But Councillor Emerald is gonna be out of a job soon, even he says so; why doesn't Sunset—?"

"Sunset says she's going to help him anyway, even if he isn't First Councillor," Penny explained.

"Right," Ruby muttered.

That was … okay, that was not much different from Iona Rockshaw having Ruby at her beck and call, but Ruby wasn't sure that Aspen Emerald deserved it as much. Perhaps, like Sunset and Pyrrha, you could argue that he meant well, but that didn't change the fact that he was a self-serving liar — a politician, in other words.

Ruby was reminded of the First Councillor encouraging her to enter politics if she thought she could do a better job. Perhaps she ought to be a little less cynical about his motives.

Perhaps he and Sunset were well-matched, both personally brave — it was fitting that they'd gone into the Valish headquarters and saved the city together — but morally less than valiant people who meant much better than they sometimes or often did.

If so, perhaps it was appropriate that they should work together, though how much it would help Vale was something else.

"And you're going somewhere else again," Penny went on. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," Ruby agreed. "And you can't decide who to go with, right?"

"Right," Penny agreed dejectedly. "I want to stay with all of you, but I can only stay by the side of one of you."

"That's a decision only you can make," Ruby said. "That's what it means to be free, but … if you want my advice … stick with Sunset."

Penny blinked. "With Sunset?" she repeated. "Why?"

"Because Sunset cares about you, and I think you'll be happy with her, although I think you'd be happy with Jaune and Pyrrha, too."

"Or you," Penny pointed out.

"I don't need your help, Penny," Ruby said. "I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but it's true. I don't need help, I don't want help, I don't want anyone to get in my way, I … want to be alone, at least for a little while. Pyrrha and Jaune have one another, and I'm sure Pyrrha can find any other help she needs in Mistral, but Sunset…"

Ruby trailed off. It was a little strange, or contradictory, but she felt as though Sunset both needed friends and that they brought out the worst in her. They made her a better person in the sense of being more pleasant to be around, but they also made her worse.

The Sunset of the first few weeks at Beacon wouldn't have made the choice she had under Mountain Glenn. She might have saved herself, but she wouldn't have cared about saving anyone else.

On the other hand, if she hadn't been all alone up in that engine room, then…

"I don't think Sunset should be all alone," Ruby said. "She doesn't … she doesn't deserve to be, and she needs someone around who can help make her … better. Someone who can stop her getting so scared, keep her on the right path." Ruby winced. "Sorry, that makes it sound like I'm telling you where to go based on what would be best for other people, and I guess I am, but only because you'd fit in, and be happy, wherever you went. You're … special that way."

"Why, thank you, Ruby," Penny said.

Ruby smiled slightly. "But, like I said, it's up to you. Only you can make this choice."

"I suppose so," Penny acknowledged. "But you've certainly given me some things to think about. Thank you." She paused. "You … really don't want me around?"

Ruby shook her head. "No offence, but I think it's for the best."

"Okay then," Penny agreed, without any disappointment in her voice, or at least without much. "I'll think about it, then. Now, are you ready to go in?"

"Or nearby, sure," Ruby said, and the two headed towards Benni Haven's, together.

The reception was being held at Benni Haven's. That was a practical choice as much as anything — after having marched all the way up from Vale, who would want to troop back down again so soon? — but it also felt like an appropriate one. The diner wasn't technically a part of the school, but it was in every non-technical sense, and it was a part of the school that had come through intact.

The fact that it was open again, in some sense, so soon after the battle was … hopeful. The future of Beacon was uncertain, at least in the near term, but Sunset almost felt like, if Benni Haven's was still here, then one day, the school would be back, even if the students might not.

And Benni and her husband had put on a good spread for them. It was probable that if you liked eating meat, then you'd find something to enjoy amongst the sausage rolls and chicken wings and most of the sandwiches on offer, but even Sunset was finding enough different varieties of fries and potato wedges for her liking.

She was just getting a cup of tea when noticed Benni herself lingering beside the wall of photographs, all the team photos, the smiling faces.

Benni had told Sunset, warned her on her first visit here, that those smiles wouldn't last forever. How true that had turned out to be in so many ways.

Sunset drifted over towards her, attempting to be intrusive, not speaking; she would let Benni speak first, if she wished to.

Sunset noticed that Benni's gaze was upon the picture of Team BLBL in its second configuration: Bon Bon, Lyra, Dove, and Sky.

All of them dead now; Ciel had found Lyra's body on the grounds after the grimm had retreated. She hadn't given any details as to how she'd died, and Sunset hadn't asked.

"All of them," Benni muttered. "All of them gone."

"Hard to believe," Sunset murmured.

"'Hard'?" Benni asked. "No, not that hard; there's more than them on this wall where the whole team is … but all in their first year? That … that doesn't happen too often, thank gods." She frowned. "And Amber too, huh?"

Sunset nodded. "Yes. Amber too."

Benni shook her head. "Why did they have to come back? They'd gotten away, why couldn't they have just stayed away? To warn me to get out?" She snorted. "Like I'm worth that."

"They … they were very brave," Sunset said. "Although Amber … Amber seemed scared; although I'm pretty sure she was scared, she and her friends were very brave at the end."

It was unfortunate that that was such a pack of lies, but they did not stick in Sunset's craw to tell them. Some lies were kindness, after all: kindness to Amber, to Dove, to Bon Bon, to Lyra, to make them out to be amongst the heroes of the night; but also kindness to Benni too, not to tell her that some of her favourites had betrayed Beacon and killed Professor Ozpin.

And besides, Lyra had tried to do the right thing at the end, according to Rainbow Dash, and Pyrrha said that Dove had fought valiantly, so it was not completely baseless.

Only … somewhat.

"Yeah," Benni said. "Yeah, you're right." She looked at Sunset. "Doesn't bring them back, though, does it?"

"No," Sunset admitted. "No, it doesn't. It will not raise them up, or take away their hurt, or your hurt, but … but so long as they sit on your wall, at least they may resist detraction and live on with the living."

"I sure hope so," Benni replied. "That's why I…" She shook her head. "But I see your team made it out okay?"

Sunset nodded. "Physically, at least."

"That's enough," Benni said. "Trust me, that's enough."

"Believe me, I'm not ungrateful," Sunset said. "Far from it. I wish there were others here as fortunate as me." She paused, and frowned, and fought the urge to disturb her tightly bound hair with her fingers. Instead, she tugged at her tie a little. "What will you do now? Are you going to stay here?"

"Yeah," Benni said, sounding almost incredulous to have been asked. "Where else would I go?"

"But…" Sunset began haltingly. "The school—"

"Will be back," Benni declared confidently. "Maybe not in the next few weeks, maybe not next year, but it'll be back. There might be a new tower, but there'll be new kids, and I'll be there to welcome them and make sure they're eating … maybe not right, but certainly well."

Sunset smiled. "That sounds … I hope you're right, I really do."

"Of course I'm right," Benni declared. "They can't keep Beacon down for long."

Sunset hoped that was true, even if she wasn't going to be a part of it anymore.

"Take care of yourself," she said, as she left Benni with her wall, and with her memories, while she joined her … her friends, and those who were not her friends but who had been Professor Ozpin's associates nonetheless.

Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight. Penny had joined Pyrrha and Jaune in wearing a Beacon uniform that was a little bit of an imperfect fit, on account of having belonged to Yang. Ruby had agreed that it was … appropriate that Penny should get to wear the uniform, if only once, and surely, Yang wouldn't have objected. Blake, meanwhile, wore an Atlas uniform that had belonged to Twilight, while Twilight, like Sunset and Ruby, wasn't wearing a school uniform, but instead donned a very plain black dress with a veil that fell from her hair down over her eyes and a skirt that went down to her ankles.

The black mourning armbands showed up much better against the white shirts of the Atlas uniforms than the black jackets of the Beacon students.

Considering that Professor Ozpin had been Beacon's headmaster, Sunset couldn't help but find that a bit inappropriate.

The Haven students had made a virtue of necessity by using their armbands to cover up the white strip on their otherwise black uniforms.

There were so many students come for the funeral — if only for propriety’s sake — that Benni Haven's wasn't large enough to hold them all, and many students had spilled out on the grounds outside, but the nine of them had managed to find a place inside. The tables and the chairs had been cleared away to make more space, and they stood in a corner, huddled together not far from the ursa's head mounted on the wall.

From the other side of the diner, Fluffy bared his teeth at them, a welcoming presence.

Sunset sighed. She took a sip of her tea before she said, "I know that you didn't all have any great love for Professor Ozpin, and I understand why, but … he always tried to do the right thing according to his lights, and I don't believe he ever wished any of us ill, for all that he sometimes asked us to stumble into the path of harm." She raised her teacup. "To Professor Ozpin, let us remember him for the good, and for his good intents."

"Professor Ozpin," Pyrrha murmured, joined shortly after by the Atlesians and by Penny. Ruby and Jaune were initially more hesitant, but they, too, joined in after a couple of seconds.

"And to all our absent friends," Ciel added.

"Absent friends," they all chorused, some with more vigour than they had honoured Professor Ozpin.

A silence settled upon the group.

"New battle honours will adorned the colours of the First, Third, and Fourth. For all the days to come, when all of us and all who fought upon this battlefield are gone, yet the standards will record that these battalions fought at the Battle of Vale," Ciel remarked. "Yet, this does not feel like a victory."

"Because it isn't," Pyrrha muttered.

"We saved Vale," Ruby declared. "The city is still standing and … casualties were … light, for the size of the city and everything that happened." She looked around. "If I had to choose between saving the Relic and letting Vale fall or this, I would choose this, every time. We won where it mattered."

"You mean you won where it mattered," Rainbow remarked.

Ruby said nothing in response, though none would have blamed her had she preened her feathers aught.

“Both of you,” Rainbow added, with a glance at Sunset.

Sunset said nothing either. That to which Rainbow referred did not elate her when set against Professor Ozpin’s passing and the downfall of Councillor Emerald.

She had nothing to be ashamed of in her conduct of that night, but … she had gone with Councillor Emerald into the Siren’s den, and Councillor Emerald, far from being hailed as a hero as was his due, was to be banished into obscurity by the wretched masses. She had planned the death of a great grimm, but Professor Ozpin had died while she was elsewhere.

Every joy of the night had become tinged with bitterness, save only one thing: the salvation of Cinder and the attendant transfer of the Maiden powers to Pyrrha. Of that alone she could take pride untarnished.

But that wasn’t something that she could speak of in this company.

And besides, to boast while others were feeling grim would have been most unbecoming, and so she held her peace.

"Where will Salem strike next?" asked Blake, quietly, glancing around to make sure they were not overheard.

"How should we know?" asked Jaune. "Maybe Ozpin would have known, but I think even he would have had to guess. Professor Goodwitch doesn't know. But … with you going back to Atlas, and Pyrrha and I going to Mistral, and Sunset and Ruby staying here in Vale, then it seems like we're covering all the bases, even the chance of Salem trying to actually destroy Vale."

"What about Vacuo?" Blake pointed out.

Rainbow snorted. "If Vacuo was destroyed, would anyone be able to tell the difference?"

"Rainbow Dash!" Twilight scolded.

"It is all very well to say that we are covering all bases," Ciel said softly. "But we were not strong enough together to—"

"Things will be different next time," Rainbow insisted, before Ciel could go too far down that line of thought. "In Atlas, our Maiden isn't going to stab us in the back for a start, and in Mistral…" She grinned. "You'll be able to go toe to toe with her if she does, right, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha bowed her head, her brow furrowing.

Sunset harrumphed at Rainbow.

"Sorry," Rainbow winced. "I get that … I know that this isn't all steak and eggs for you, but I still think it's kinda cool. Take it from the north: more firepower is never anything to turn your nose up at, especially not now."

Pyrrha looked up at her. "True," she allowed. "But unlike a new warship, I have to keep this hidden and out of use."

"Yeah, right, that … that's not so great," Rainbow admitted. "Still, my point is, my main point is that wherever Salem hits next, things won't be the same. Things won't be in her favour the way they were, and they won't go her way. The outcome of the next round will be different."

No one spoke. What could they have said? They all hoped it would be so, no doubt, but none could say for certain that it would be so, for all their best efforts. So they said nothing.

"And what about you, Penny?" Twilight asked. "Pyrrha and Jaune are going to Mistral, Ruby and Sunset are staying in Vale; where will you go?"

Sunset looked at Penny, waiting for her to announce that she was going to Mistral with Pyrrha and Jaune. It would make the most sense — Salem was far more likely to assail Mistral or Atlas next than return so soon to a Vale that had nothing to offer her, and she would be able to see Mistral, and, to be frank, Pyrrha would be able to keep her in comfort. Sunset didn't know where she would be staying long-term, although Ruby, with her new mistress, might not have any interest in Penny. It made sense, to Sunset's mind, that the greater part of Professor Ozpin's new Team Sapphire — Team PPJ pronounced pyjama? — should stick together.

And yet, after her eyes had travelled across the gathered group, after she had taken a few moments of pause, Penny said, "I'm staying here, with Sunset."

Sunset gasped as her eyes widened. "You … you're staying here? With me?"

"If that's okay with you," Penny said, her voice suddenly grown cautious.

"I … Penny, I would love to have your company upon my road," Sunset said. "But it is an uncertain road in many ways; I… once Councillor Emerald is thrown from office by his fickle colleagues, I don't know what support or succour he will be able to offer me."

"But you're going to do it anyway, right?" Penny asked. "The road is uncertain, but you're down it regardless?"

"Yes," Sunset said softly. "For my pains."

"Then I'll walk it with you, to keep you company." Penny said. "Pyrrha and Jaune have one another, and there will be lots of people in Mistral who'll help them, and Ruby … Ruby has Starhead Industries. But you'll only have…" Penny glanced at Ruby. "Only someone who won't be Councillor for very long. So I'll stay with you, because you're the person who needs my help the most."

"You shouldn't make a decision like this based on pity, Penny," Sunset told her. "Or even on what you think is for the best, however you might define that. You should decide based on what you want."

"And if staying with you is what I want?" asked Penny.

Sunset stared at her and swallowed. "Then you are very kind, Penny," she said. "You are as kind as your company will be welcome."

Penny smiled, though that smile faltered as she looked around the group. "Will we ever meet again?" she asked. "All of us, together like this?"

“Should we?” Ruby asked.

“Yes!” Penny cried. “At least…” She trailed off for a moment.

Pyrrha looked down at her feet; Jaune looked at Ruby, but his brow furrowed somewhat. Rainbow was frowning too, even as Blake engaged in a very detailed study of the drink in her hand.

Ciel opened her mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it, at least for the moment.

Penny said, “I’m sorry that you didn’t have a very good time, Ruby,” she said. “But … but I did, and I’d like … I’d like to think that this isn’t the end, that this isn’t goodbye forever? Is that so wrong?”

Ruby sighed. “No, Penny, no, it isn’t, you can want it, if you want to. I’m just … I’ll leave you to it.”

“That might be for the best,” murmured Ciel, in a voice as chill as the Atlesian winter.

Ruby didn’t hear her, or at least she affected not to hear her; it was hard to say. She turned away regardless, her red cloak swaying a little behind her as she headed towards the door.

She left a silence in her place, lingering where she had stood.

“You didn’t have to say that,” Jaune said.

“I had to say something, and she deserved worse,” Ciel replied. “She spoke either to be rude or to start an argument; both are unbecoming at a funeral. There is respect to be shown and proprieties to be observed.”

“She has her reasons,” Jaune replied. “Ruby’s … patience has been exhausted, with propriety and respect. She wasn’t…”

“We did not regard her,” Sunset explained.

“Nevertheless,” Ciel said, “this is a funeral, and there must be some measure of decorum observed, even — or especially — here.”

“I guess that we won’t meet again with Ruby,” Penny murmured, a note of disconsolation entering her voice. “At least, it doesn’t seem like she’d want that. But … but what about the rest of us? Do you think this really is goodbye forever, for all of us?”

"If we wish to meet again, then it will happen," Sunset declared, glad that Penny had moved the conversation away from Ruby. "Maybe not soon, maybe not next year, or even in five years, but it will, if we wish it so."

"I wish it," Penny said, clasping her hands together over where heart would have been. "I wish that we'll all meet again, all together safe and sound somewhere.

"Somewhere and some day."

Atlesian airships filled the sky. The surviving cruisers of the First, Third, and Fourth Squadrons, plus their carriers, their medical frigates, and all the other ancillary vessels, not to mention all the fighters that would be flying escort, were all clustered together overhead.

It wasn’t parade ground formation, but it was a tighter grouping than they had maintained at any point since they’d arrived in Vale.

Because now, they were sailing home, or about to, and no ship was to be left behind or stray too far from the others.

In between the warships, sheltering in between them, were the civilian skyliners, filled with Atlesians who come for the Vytal tournament, other Atlesian nationals who had come to Vale for work or lived here for months or years — SDC employees, for example — who had suddenly realised that they yearned for the chill snows of home. And on board some of those airships, there would be Valish who had decided that Vale itself was not the place to be right now.

Like Leaf’s mother, stepfather, and stepsister, maybe. Remembering them was enough to make the back of Rainbow’s neck itch. She didn’t … well, no, to be honest, she did feel guilty, because they were Leaf’s family, and Leaf loved her mom really, Rainbow was sure — not to mention the fact that they’d sounded pretty desperate to get out of here.

But it had been out of Rainbow’s hands, and Blake’s. Sunset should have told them that, although Rainbow could see why she hadn’t; it wouldn’t have been an easy conversation, and they might not have believed her anyway. Instead, Rainbow had had to tell them that there was nothing she could do, it was out of her hands, she couldn’t guarantee them a berth aboard an Atlesian cruiser because that wasn’t in her power.

She had submitted a request to General Ironwood for them to be given consideration, but she was pretty sure it had been declined.

She hadn’t heard anything either way, which Rainbow thought might be the General pretending she hadn’t sent anything so he didn’t have to ask her what she was thinking.

That might be for the best for anyone except the Kellys, or whatever the guy’s surname was.

Maybe they’d managed to get a place on one of the skyliners. Rainbow kinda hoped so.

Otherwise, she was left hoping that Vale would calm down and they’d realise they didn’t need to leave after all.

Anyway, whether Leaf’s family was aboard or not, there were plenty of skyliners up in the air, to be escorted home — or to Atlas, in the case of the fleeing Valish — under the safety of Atlesian gunpower.

Assuming they didn’t — they wouldn’t; they wouldn’t meet another grimm like that dragon. There couldn’t be many of the like in the whole of Remnant.

One had been bad enough.

Some of the ships up in the sky above still carried their battle damage from the fighting; it wasn’t as though there were facilities to repair them here in Vale. Squadrons were flying with lower than the requisite number of airships; some squadrons, Rainbow knew, were practically ghosts. Just like some teams had only one or two members left.

Like Team FNKI.

Rainbow’s eyes found the Comfort, near the centre of the Atlesian formation. Neon was still aboard, still floating in her plant dust tank. With the extent of her injuries, she might not wake up by the time they reached home, although surely not long after that.

She was the last of her team, and she wasn’t the only one in that position.

Still, for all that there were teams with empty places, for all that there were squadrons with airships missing, for all that the cruisers bore scars and claw marks on their armour, despite all of that, morale was pretty high. When they had carried the colours of the three battalions aboard the Skyrays, the troops had cheered.

And honestly, if you didn’t know about Relics, and the fact that they’d just lost one, then why wouldn’t morale be high? As far as most people knew, they’d just won a splendid victory. They’d saved Vale and withstood more than one horde of grimm at a time. As far as most people knew, as far as the soldiers knew, as far as the books would record, three Atlesian battalions had taken almost everything the grimm could throw at them and come out on top, even if they did need a little help from some huntsmen and huntresses at the end.

Nobody would ever know about the Relic of Choice, but they would remember Colonel Harper rallying the line, they’d remember Trixie and Sabine bearing the colours to safety, they’d remember the Vigilant dancing through the air; they might even remember her, Blake, and Ciel helping kill the Apex Alpha. They’d remember the things that had gone right.

And thinking about it like that made Rainbow remember those things too.

Yes, morale was high; for all their losses, the troops — and the students too — were returning home as victorious heroes, not limping off in defeat.

Speaking of heroes, Weiss was stood in the Bus, already waiting. Rainbow was going to fly her up to the fleet along with Blake and Ciel — Twilight was up on the Crystal Heart with everyone else, somewhere amongst the gathered fleet ready to set off.

In just a second, once they’d said their final goodbyes.

Sunset, Jaune and Pyrrha were waiting for them on the docking platform, but it was Penny to whom Rainbow turned her attention as she looked away from her own airship, and from all the other airships either waiting in the sky or flying to join them.

Penny was stood just a couple of paces in front of the others, her hands clasped together in front of her.

Rainbow … Rainbow couldn’t think of anything to say. She knew that she ought to say something, but knowing that she ought to say something wasn’t the same as being able to think of anything.

“Are you … are you looking forward to this?” Rainbow asked. “To what comes next?”

“It’s not quite what I wanted,” Penny admitted. “But I’m sure it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“And you’re sure that you’re going to be okay?” Rainbow asked.

“Are you going to tell her that there’s dinner in the fridge and she can call if there’s an emergency?” Sunset asked.

“Shut up!” Rainbow snapped. She snorted. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“We’ll manage somehow, won’t we, Penny?” Sunset asked.

“I’m sure we will!” Penny said. “I’m sure that, in spite of everything, we’ll manage to have a lot … we’ll manage to have some fun along the way.”

Rainbow grinned. “That’s the spirit.” She put one hand on Penny’s shoulder. “I never thought that this year would end like this, but so long as you’re happy, then that’s what matters.”

“I am happy,” Penny said. “I can be happy, anyway.” She looked between Rainbow and Ciel. “I … I won’t forget everything that you did for me, or Twilight, but now it’s time for me to find my own path, with my own friends — my own friend. And hopefully, I’ll make some new friends along the way; we both will.”

“A single close friend can be worth more than a hundred casual acquaintances,” Ciel said. “But do not let that stop you striving to raise the number.” She looked at Sunset. “Take care of her.”

“We’ll take care of one another,” Penny said.

Ciel winced. “Forgive me, I … old habits.” She stepped forward, moving quickly, as though afraid that if she stopped for a second, then she’d lose her nerve. She stepped forward quickly, and before anyone could react, she’d planted a kiss upon each of Penny’s cheeks. “Though you have chosen a different path amongst these southern lands and southern folk, yet you were born of the north, and as such, the Lady’s grace may shine upon you yet. And I pray she will.”

Penny smiled. “That’s very kind, just so long as she doesn’t stop watching over you too.”

“Fear not,” Ciel said. “The Lady has as many eyes as there are flakes of snow, and none at all; nothing passes beyond her sight in the whole north or anywhere we northmen set our feet or plant our standards.” She looked away from Penny, and to Jaune and Pyrrha. She bowed to them, about thirty degrees at the waist. “Comrades, farewell. Until we meet again, I wish you good fortunes in the wars that I fear will come upon us all ere long.”

“I fear you speak true,” Pyrrha murmured. “Fare you all well in turn. Tyche Agathe.”

“I would prefer providence to fortune,” Ciel replied. “But I accept in its proper spirit.”

Blake took a deep breath as she looked across the team. “I … couldn’t have done this without your help,” she said. “When even Rainbow Dash thought me an enemy, you came to my assistance. I won’t forget it, not ever, though it’s ten years or more until we meet again, I won’t forget.”

“We couldn’t have done a lot without your help either,” Jaune offered.

“Maybe,” Blake conceded. “But nevertheless … I’m in your debt.”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, you aren’t. No debts, nothing like that, not when we can’t talk to one another, not when we might not see each other for who knows how long. We shouldn’t leave that like that.”

Blake hesitated for a second. “Alright,” she agreed. “But if you can ever call upon my help again, and you need it, then I’ll do whatever I can. And I’ll miss you, and this place.”

“For a while,” Sunset murmured.

“Good luck in Atlas,” Jaune said.

“I hope you’re happy there,” Penny added.

Blake smiled. “I’m sure I will be.”

“And that you can keep on adding more lustre to your name,” Sunset said. “With more crimes uncovered and conspiracies unmasked.”

“I hope there aren’t any more secret slave rings,” Rainbow replied. “But we can try.” It was time to go. There was only time to say, “It’s been fun,” before she turned away, and headed towards her waiting airship.

Blake and Ciel swiftly followed, the three of them leaping aboard, as Rainbow closed the side door.

She looked back to see Penny waving to them from the docking platform, along with Sunset waving too, albeit less enthusiastically than Penny.

Rainbow waved back, and Ciel raised her hand for a moment, only to let it fall again as soon as the door slid shut and concealed them from view of those outside.

“She’ll be fine,” Rainbow assured her.

“Yes,” Ciel said softly. “Yes, she will.”

“At least she’s not alone,” Weiss said. “So long as you remember that, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Rainbow looked at Weiss. “You’re not alone either,” she reminded her. “So long as you remember that, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Weiss looked at her. Her blue eyes seemed to gleam particularly brightly. “Do you mean that?”

“Yeah!” Rainbow said, surprised. “Yeah, of course I mean it.”

“Then you will visit, won’t you?” Weiss asked. “You… please, visit. If you don’t… I will need some company in that house.”

“Will we be allowed in?” asked Blake.

“Yes,” Weiss replied. “Yes, you will; I’ll make certain.”

“Then we’ll be there,” Blake assured her. “Because you’re not alone. Because neither of us have to be alone again.”

At first, if only thanks to its colourful markings, it was possible to make out Rainbow’s special airship — lucky for Rainbow Dash that it hadn’t been around for her to use it during the battle, or it would have wrecked by now — as it made its way off the docking platform and into the sky.

Then, as it joined the throng of other Atlesian airships heading up into the sky, it became harder and harder to make out, one Skyray amongst many Skyrays that filled the air, and even its rainbow paint job was not enough to distinguish it.

And so it was impossible to tell which ship bore Blake, and Rainbow Dash, and Weiss, and Ciel; just that one of them did, one ship amongst many airships of the final wave of Atlesians making their way up to their cruisers and other vessels. Students, soldiers, tourists and civilians with roots, frightened Valish, all of them heading up to the waiting airships, the cruisers and the Skyliners, all of them preparing to fly away from here, far from here, to fly northwards like migrating birds, flying to colder climbs for winter.

Like migrating birds in reverse, perhaps.

Still, though they could no longer make out Rainbow’s ship, the bulk of Team SAPR remained upon the docking pad, the ruins of Beacon looming behind them, watching as the Atlesian fleet gathered in its minnows prior to departure.

“Vale … Vale is gonna be okay without them, right?” Jaune asked, moving his arms like he was about to fold them, but then seeming to decide that he wouldn’t, after all.

“We can still stay if it would make you feel better,” Pyrrha offered.

“Vale will … Vale will be fine,” Sunset said. “Without you and without the Atlesians.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked Jaune. “I mean, about the Atlesians, I mean, not about us.”

“Yes,” Sunset said firmly, or at least with what she hoped was the semblance of firmness in her voice. “Vale will … Vale will endure, it must. It shall. Vale survived the Vacuan invasions, the fall of the Pentarchy, the loss of Mountain Glenn, a hundred tribulations besides; Vale has endured as much as Mistral has, and it’s still here, even as Mistral is. It will endure this too.” She smiled. “Penny and I will make sure of it, won’t we, Penny?”

“Y-yes!” Penny declared. “Yes we … we’ll certainly try, won’t we?”

“We will,” Sunset declared. “And … Counci— and former Councillor Emerald—” His resignation was but a day old, delivered to the impatient public — and his even more impatient party, and his most impatient heir apparent —- scarcely ere Professor Ozpin’s ashes were cold upon the pyre, and so she had not yet got into the habit of acknowledging his fall in station. “And former Councillor Aris … Cardin … and Ruby too. Ruby most of all, perhaps, Ruby and her young patron.”

“Twelve years old,” Pyrrha murmured. “She would not be the first young princess to step forward and provide the leadership that was lacking in her elders.”

“My point is,” Sunset said, “that this kingdom is full of good men and women; though it has not of late covered itself in glory, Vale is not without advantages, not helpless, not without hope.”

The people of Vale were not so good that they had recognised what a good man they had in Counci— former Councillor Emerald, but Sunset supposed that they couldn’t be blamed too much for one mistake.

She would be a fine one for holding mistakes against people.

Despite that mistake, there was still strength in Vale, in Cardin, in its former servants who, though they had been rejected, were no less loyal to Vale; in Sunset herself, perhaps, and Penny … and Cinder.

And in Ruby.

“And from amongst their ranks,” Sunset added, “a true hero will emerge to provide the leadership this kingdom deserves and requires.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Jaune.

“Because it is ever thus; how can it be otherwise?” Sunset replied. “Great need will call to greatness; it must be so.” She paused a moment. “I do not know this young princess, as Pyrrha calls her, but Ruby finds her worthy of her service, and for myself, Cou— dammit, Aspen Emerald will not let this kingdom fall.” She took a deep breath and felt a sudden heat, or … she started to sweat, a sudden sweat came over her as though the sun had suddenly increased in temperature, or as if she’d suddenly woken up to find she had an exam she hadn’t studied for. “And … as I am his sword, neither will I.” She looked Jaune in the eye. “I … swear it.”

“Is the need that great?” Penny asked. “I mean, with the Relic gone already … what need does Salem have with Vale any longer, right?”

“There are other dangers than just Salem,” Jaune murmured. He, too, took a moment’s pause before he said, “But I trust Ruby to handle those — and you, both of you.”

Their attention was drawn from the discussion and back towards the Atlesian fleet by a sound like the exploding of a rocket. Sunset looked up; for a moment, she feared that the Atlesians had been the victim of some covert attack or that some Valish idiot, perhaps animated by the last vestiges of the late Sonata’s magic, was firing on their ships before they left. It was not, fortunately, and thank Celestia it was not so; instead, the fire had come from one of the Atlesian ships themselves: not a rocket, but a firework emerging out of the side of the cruiser to burst in vivid green off the port bow.

When the Amity Colosseum had arrived over Vale, the Atlesian cruisers had welcomed it with fireworks in green, blue, white, and yellow; now, as they bid farewell to Vale, the Atlesians said goodbye with fireworks that were exclusively Valish green, popping over the skies and the rooftops as the ships began to move away.

They moved slowly at first, like trains pulling away from the station. Then they began to speed up, at least to the speed that their civilian ships would allow. They moved off like a herd, the cruisers arrayed protectively around the civilian vessels and the carriers, which would make the small escort airships those little birds that lived off larger mammals, Sunset supposed.

The whole mass moved in unison, a flock of iron and steel driven on by dust, letting off their fireworks as they moved off from Vale.

Sunset’s eyes fell from the fleet for a moment, down to the city below, and she could have sworn that down in Vale below she could see people stood on the rooftops waving Atlesian banners, shouting their farewells and their good wishes up to the army that had saved the city.

Sunset wondered if the Atlesians were aware of it, and hoped they were.

“You know,” she said, “the city skyline is going to feel pretty empty now.”

For half of the year, the Atlesian warships had been there, hovering over the streets, looming overhead, casting a shadow that had felt protective, comforting, never intrusive or threatening.

They had been a sort of armed comfort blanket, and now, that blanket was being taken away, recalled by the adults who owned it and who needed the children to learn to make do on their own.

Would they, could they make do on their own?

Sunset supposed that they would soon find out.

She hoped she was right about Vale being able to stand on its own two feet.

Because it would have to.

Neon floated in a tank of plant dust.

The dust added to the solution gave the liquid in which she was submerged a green tint, lending it a somewhat eerie aspect for all that it was undoubtedly doing Neon good.

She floated above the bottom of the tank, suspended and supported by the liquid, held at more or less the level of Ciel’s own face.

Her red hair, streaked with blue, was all undone, and in the liquid, it danced about her head like plants in water, or like those animations of mermaids with their luscious manes constantly in motion.

“You know that I could rock a mermaid outfit. And I’m a faunus, so it wouldn’t even be appropriating anything.”

Ciel could hear Neon’s voice in her head, but it brought her no comfort.

No comfort at all, for the voice was only in her head and not out here, in her ear, coming from Neon’s mouth.

For Neon’s mouth was stopped up by the air mask strapped to her face, with a pipe connecting it to the air supply concealed atop the tank.

Most of her face was hidden, but if her eyes were open, Ciel would have been able to see them.

Neon’s eyes were not open.

She was unconscious, floating in a tank designed to heal her injuries, but those injuries were tremendous and required a great deal of healing.

Ciel looked. She forced herself to look. She would not look away from what the grimm had done to Neon … from what Neon had endured for her sake. She would not look away from the burned stumps of her limbs, the marks across her body that were hidden only by the minimal white undergarments in which she had been dressed, the bra across her chest and the pants below. Everything else, all that remained, was plain to see, and what remained … if Neon were not unconscious, then how much pain would she be in?

Enough that it were a mercy that she was unconscious, perhaps, although it brought Ciel no joy to see it so.

She was all alone here; there was no one else. No one but Ciel and Neon and the other occupants of the tanks; they were monitored remotely, so there was no need for anyone here aboard the Comfort to be here to physically watch them at all times.

There was no need for Ciel to be here either; it was not as though Neon could talk with her. Many would say that she could not even hear her, but Ciel … Ciel yet hoped that … Ciel could not leave.

There was nowhere else that she would rather be than here. Stood before Neon with a book tucked beneath her arm.

She took a step forward, and then another, and raised her hand to press her fingers to the glass of the tank.

She was so close that she could see her reflection in the glass, the image of her own face set over Neon’s masked visage.

She looked a very picture of dejected misery, and why should it not be so when her dear friend was before her in such a state?

Ciel closed her eyes and leaned her head forward; she felt her forehead touch the glass with the softest of thumps.

“I … I should speak my heart,” she whispered. “But I cannot, for I fear that if I were to try and speak my heart, then … then my heart should break, for it is only by wrapping it with iron bands that I am able to hold it together as it is.”

Her brow furrowed, her unhappy expression twisting into a frown. “Why?” she asked. “Why for my sake?”

“Because you’re worth it.”

“No,” Ciel whispered. “No, I am not.” She opened her eyes. “But you … you are, and so when you wake up, I … I will stay by your side for as long as you need me. I will do all I can for you, I swear it.” She sniffed. “You need not face this alone.”

She paused for a moment, taking a step back away from the tank. “I don’t know if you heard any of that,” she admitted. “Probably not, although I pray that you did. I pray you heard, I pray you understand, I pray you know that … that I am with you, not for repayment of a debt, but because you are dear to me, and to my family too.” She tried to smile. “Aurelien needs his hero cat back.”

The smile died on her face, replaced with a ragged sound, not quite a sigh but almost.

“Speaking of which,” she went on, as she pulled out the book that she had underneath her arm.

“I do not know if you can hear this, as I said,” Ciel said, her voice rising a little. “But in the hope that you can—”

“You’re going to read to her?” Rainbow asked as she walked into the room with the plant dust tanks. Blake was a step behind.

“I … yes,” Ciel said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”

“Seeing how she’s doing,” Rainbow said softly, as if she might disturb the sleepers in their tanks if she spoke too loud. She looked for a while at Neon, floating in the tank, and Rainbow’s expression crinkled visibly as she did so. She glanced at Ciel. “Seeing how you’re doing, too.”

“I am … I am as you would expect,” Ciel muttered, for what was the point in trying to insist that she was fine?

Blake walked around both Rainbow and Ciel, until she was stood on the other side of Ciel, her eyes on Neon all the while.

“She told me once that faunus were stronger than humans,” she said. “If she’s right, then she’ll pull through for sure.”

“She most certainly will,” Ciel said. “For she is the strongest person I know.”

Rainbow let that pass without comment, saying instead, “So, what were you going to read to her?”

Ciel looked down at the book in her hands. “This is one of Neon’s favourites, it is called Rogues in the Tower.”

“I tried that one; it’s about thieves, isn’t it?” Blake asked.

Ciel nodded. “Neon would prefer to follow the convention of the title and call them 'rogues,' but yes, thieves in an old city in pre-Mistralian Anima, a world steeped in superstition and the sword.”

“Sounds like fun,” Rainbow said.

“I hope so,” Ciel said. “I hope that she can hear it.”

She glanced from Rainbow to Blake. It was clear that neither of them had any intention of leaving.

Ciel was glad of that. She thought, though she might not admit it, that Neon might be glad of it too.

She opened the book and cleared her throat.

“It was a cold, dark night to be creeping across the rooftops of Coranham, but that is exactly where Felix found himself…”

The last airship was leaving for Mistral.

Unlike the Atlesians, the Skyliners that hovered in the air above the city had no warships to escort them home; the Zhenshou had survived the battle, but it legally belonged to Vale now, and though it might have been a fine and chivalrous gesture to allow it to escort the people of Mistral homewards and then return to Vale, Vale's straits were a little beyond fine and chivalrous gestures at present.

After everything, Pyrrha could hardly blame the new First Councillor for wanting to keep his ship at home, especially given how he had become First Councillor.

Still, it meant that there was a certain uncertainty about the journey home, for the Haven students, for the Mistralian tourists, for Pyrrha and Jaune, whether their journey would be untroubled by grimm along the way.

Pyrrha's own journey to Beacon at the start of the year had nearly been partly in company with an Atlesian cruiser; would it or another such ship still be there, still patrolling its lonely route in the absence of orders from the centre? Or, with the CCT down, would it have sailed home to Atlas like the fleet at Vale, to place itself at General Ironwood's disposal?

They would have to trust in luck, or in the valour of the huntsmen and huntresses to bring down any nevermore or the like that might cross their path.

Seven ships hung in the skies overhead, although from the interior of the skydock where Pyrrha stood, you could only see one or two of them out of the windows, the ceiling obscuring the others; still, she had seen them before they entered the building; they were an almost even mixture of Valish and Mistralian airships, the modern and metallic Valish designs lined up alongside the intentionally archaic Mistralian aesthetic. One single ship, of the Valish type, still waited at the skydock, grounded, waiting for the last few people to board — including Pyrrha herself.

Not everyone aboard these ships was a Mistralian; in common with the Atlesians, there had been Valish people who had decided that their own kingdom was not the safest place in the world to live, not the best place to call home right now, and so they sought out other, hopefully safer, environments abroad.

Pyrrha wondered how much they really knew of Mistral and what they expected to find there. There was much beauty in her home, true, and much to be admired in art, culture, and suchlike … but there was also much to wrinkle one's nose at, as Arslan could tell you far better than Pyrrha herself. Pyrrha feared that at least some of these people, setting out for Mistral with high hopes of a new home there, would find themselves trapped in the lower slopes, prey to every kind of scum that roosted there.

She hoped it would not be so, but thought that unless they had money with them, then it would be.

It sounded harsh, to hope that only those with means were fleeing, but the truth was that if they did not have means, then they were probably better off staying here in Vale.

Some might have said that they would be better staying here in Vale regardless — including the Valish authorities, which were trying to persuade people to stay — but that was not for Pyrrha to say.

Only that it would be best if they had properly considered the consequences of their decisions without doing anything rash.

Time would tell. About that and about a great many other things.

Pyrrha had one hand upon the handle of her case; it felt lighter now than it had done when she had come here. Thanks to Penny's laser slicing through the dorm room wardrobe, she had lost a great many of her clothes — some of which she would have to have remade; she had been quite fond of them — and thus, her case was comparatively empty. It felt somewhat strange; weren't you supposed to come away from a place with more than you had arrived with?

Perhaps you are, except when a friend fires a laser through your wardrobe. Or a grimm tears through your room and destroys your books.

Besides, she was not leaving with nothing from her time at Beacon; in her case, she had one of the two … it felt strange now to call them relics, given what they now knew of the real Relics, but she had one of the white knight pieces that they had collected in the Emerald Forest during Initiation, the white knights that had made them Team SAPR. She had a copy of the team photograph from Benni Haven's, and she had what nobody knew she had — although Jaune would certainly find out in due course — a complete set of their Vytal Tournament figurines, including Penny, that she had picked up shortly before leaving. The figures of her, Penny, and Jaune had been in a sale, while Ruby and Sunset had not, but even with her access to funds somewhat restricted by the destruction of the CCT, Pyrrha could have afforded them all at full price.

Even to herself, she could not really explain why she had bought them or what she planned to do with them, but … when she had seen them, it had been … she had been seized by impulse, by instinct, she had been compelled as if some god had put the thought into her mind. Perhaps she had simply wanted the reminder to carry with her.

In any case, they were in her luggage.

And, of course, she had her memories. So many memories, the good and the bad, of a year here, in this place, with these people. A year that had, on the whole, for all its ups and downs, been rather wonderful.

Jaune was stood beside her; he had a rucksack slung across one shoulder, which looked as though he had even less to take with him than Pyrrha did.

"Are you sure you've got everything?" Pyrrha asked.

Jaune smiled with one corner of his mouth. "Yes. I hardly brought anything with me, remember? There's not much to take. Besides, anything I need, I can get in Mistral, right?"

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, you can, if it's nothing personal." She paused for a moment. "And you're sure that you're okay with this?"

"For the last time, Pyrrha, yes," Jaune insisted. "Yes, I'm fine with this. You're not … you're not dragging me across the ocean against my will. This is my choice, and it's the right choice too." He reached out and brushed his fingers lightly against her cheek. "So stop worrying about it before we get in the air and you decide to ask the pilot to turn around and land again so we can get off."

Pyrrha stepped back and away from him. "Jaune! I wouldn't do such a thing!"

Jaune looked at her, eyebrows rising.

"I…" Pyrrha glanced down. "I wouldn't do such a thing unless I thought that was what you really wanted," she murmured.

"What I want…" Jaune began, trailing off. He reached under her chin, putting his fingers beneath it and tilting her head upwards to look at him. "I'm not going to say that this is what I want, because of all the ways this year could have ended, this isn't how I would have chosen it to go, and I know that it's not how you would have chosen it either; but of the choices that we have left, this is the one I choose, so in that sense … in that sense, yeah, it is what I want. And it's what you want too, right?"

"It is," Pyrrha said, without hesitation, because if Mistral was in danger, if Salem chose to attack there next, then she would rather be there to defend it than to hear of its fall from desperate refugees fleeing the city in all directions. But she was glad, very glad, of Jaune's words; she would have hated to think that she was compelling him to journey far from his heart.

"I'm sorry I've harped on this," she said. "I must have driven you mad."

Jaune chuckled. "It was kinda nice to know that you were thinking about it," he said. "But … yeah, it also got a little bit much by the end there."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as the smallest laugh escaped her, before she turned her attention to the others, stood in front of them, waiting.

Waiting for them to leave, waiting to say goodbye, waiting.

"Now that our departure is finally settled," Pyrrha said, in a light, self-deprecating tone, "I don't suppose I can persuade ei— any of you to come with us."

She had almost said 'either,' taking it for granted that Ruby would not leave Vale, certainly not to come to Mistral with them, but it would have been rude to have presumed, and she had caught herself just in time.

"It would be wonderful to have you as my guests, again or for the first time," Pyrrha went on.

"That would be wonderful," Penny agreed. "And maybe it'll happen someday, I hope so, but right now…" She looked at Sunset and shuffled half a step closer to her.

Sunset glanced at Penny. "I … I cannot, I have responsibilities here, and I have given my word to Coun—” She snorted angrily. “I have given my word to Mister Emerald."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. "I wouldn't want to make you an oathbreaker, of course."

"But Penny," Sunset went on. "You don't have to stay here out of pity for my sake."

"Sunset," Penny said. "Are you going to be like Pyrrha and keep asking me and asking me if what I'm doing is really what I want to do?"

Sunset's equine ears pricked up. "You're not going to stroke my face, are you?"

Penny paused. "Would you like me to?"

Sunset shrugged. "I … probably best not. I … take your point, I guess, that I should just take what you say at face value and take your decision and all that, but … Pyrrha had a good reason for acting like that, and so do I; I don't want to be the reason you're unhappy."

"And I won't be unhappy with you," Penny insisted. "But even if I was, which I won't be, that would still be my choice, just like you staying here in Vale to help Councillor Emerald is your choice even though it makes you unhappy."

"It doesn't make me unhappy!" Sunset squawked.

"You'd rather go to Mistral with Pyrrha and Jaune, wouldn't you?" Penny insisted.

"I…" Sunset swallowed. "I'm doing what I must, Penny. What I feel like I must."

"I know," Penny agreed. "Because that's part of … I'm staying by your side, Sunset, and that's the end of it. Unless you tell me that you don't want me."

"No," Sunset whispered. "No, I won't say that."

"That's settled then," Penny declared triumphantly, with a firm nod of her head. She glanced at Pyrrha. "I'm sorry, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled. "There is nothing to apologise for. Nothing at all." She held out her hands to them. "Though lands and oceans may divide us, you are, and will ever remain, my dear friends, and the aid of the House of Nikos will be at your disposal, should you ever have need of it."

Penny stepped forward, throwing her arms around Pyrrha and enveloping her in a crushing embrace, an embrace so tight that made Pyrrha's aura flare up, and a sharp, clenching feeling spread up her back.

Pyrrha didn't object, didn't speak out, didn't do anything to stop it. She welcomed it. She had no doubt that she would miss this once it ended.

"I'll miss you," she said. "Meeting you all was the best thing that ever happened to me—"

"So far," Jaune suggested.

Penny giggled. "Yes. So far, I guess. But still … I wish that we could have spent more time together."

Pyrrha put her arms around Penny in turn. "Likewise, Penny, but we may still have hope for the future."

Penny released Pyrrha from the embrace, and turned her attention to Jaune. "Goodbye, Jaune," she said. "I … I'm sorry that we didn't get to know one another more."

Jaune patted Penny on the shoulder. "Me too," he said. "Take care of yourself, Penny."

"You too," Penny replied. "And when we meet again, we can tell each other everything that's happened."

Jaune chuckled. "Sounds like a great idea."

To Sunset, Pyrrha said, "It is strange, but I feel as though we've said our best farewell already, and it could not be equalled."

Sunset laughed. "Another display of melodrama like that would be a bit much, wouldn't it?" she agreed. "But our parting is not so sad, nor perhaps even so permanent as we thought the last one might be. It is … one new thing that I must say is that I fear I have laid a weight upon your shoulders and fear you may begin to resent me for it."

"No," Pyrrha said at once, shaking her head. "The burden that you speak of … I will either prove equal to it or I will not, but either way, it will not be your fault, and not being your fault, I will not blame you for it. Not to mention that I hope very much to prove the equal of this thing."

"You will," Sunset said at once. "You … I have no doubt you will. You had Professor Ozpin's faith, and you have mine too. You are…" Sunset wiped away at her eyes with one finger. "Ah! Here they come again; this is ridiculous." She shook her head. "I will miss you terribly, if you didn't already know that." She glanced at Jaune. "Jaune … I'm sorry."

"I know."

"For all—"

"I know," Jaune said. "I know, just like Pyrrha knows how much you'll miss her." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled letter. "This is something that I wrote for my family; it has letters to my parents and sisters in there, telling them that I'm alive and where I'm going. Will you go to Alba Longa and make sure that they get it, answer any questions they have? Within reason, anyway; don't tell them about … you know."

"Yes, I think I can guess where the lines are," Sunset said softly as she reached out and gently took the letters from out of Jaune's hand. "I will see it delivered, you have my word." She held the letter by her side as her green eyes flickered between the two of them. "I would tell you to take care of each other, but you'll do that anyway, so instead, maybe my last piece of advice to you: find some help. I know that Ruby's uncle is there in Mistral already, but … it will be hard with just the two of you, and maybe dangerous. I'd feel better if there was someone else you could rely on."

Pyrrha nodded. "There is some force in that." After all, it had required the aid of six people for her to reach the Vault and face Amber and the others, and she would have died if it hadn't been for Cinder. She was the Fall Maiden now, and possessed of magic, but that magic did not make her invulnerable; Amber was proof of that.

And Pyrrha had already admitted to Jaune that she couldn't do this by herself; she had meant being the Fall Maiden, but one might also add being Professor Goodwitch's servant in Mistral, or Mistral's protector.

She had been the Champion of Mistral; she was the Vytal Champion; but the world outside of the arena was too big for one single champion to bestride it all.

The only issue would be what to tell people; how much they were allowed to tell them.

"We'll think about it," Jaune promised. "Very carefully."

"Then my fears are a little put at ease," Sunset said. She reached out and put her hand for a moment upon Pyrrha's honour band. "Go with … Tyche Agathe."

"And you," Pyrrha said, "and all of you."

She looked away from Sunset, and from Penny, in Ruby’s direction. Ruby stood off from the other two, looking down at her scroll, seeming unconcerned by their long goodbyes or by the fact that Ruby was not included in them. She had other things to occupy her; she could afford to wait for them to finish.

That, at least, was the impression which she sought to give.

"Ruby,” Pyrrha said softly. “Ruby, I … I'm sorry, for the way things turned out."

Ruby glanced up from her scroll. “Mmm,” she murmured, which was to say she gave practically no answer at all.

She reached behind her and pulled out a letter of her own, a little thinner-looking than the one that Jaune had just handed to Sunset.

"Jaune, I've got a letter too," she said, stepping forward to proffer it. "It's for Uncle Qrow. It talks about … about Yang, and about Professor Ozpin, and stuff like that. When you find him in Mistral, will you make sure that he gets it?"

"Sure," Jaune said. "Of course I will." He reached out to pluck the letter from her hand.

Ruby let him take it, but then she clasped her hand firmly about his arm, holding it for a second or two, for a little longer, looking up at him.

"Don't get discouraged," she said. "Don't doubt yourself, and especially don't let those fancy Mistralians make you think you're less than you are. You're Jaune Arc, and you're as good as any of them." She smiled. "But also could one of you say hi to Juturna Rutulus and her brother for me, let them know that I'm still alive and that…? Tell them that I took their advice."

"Okay," Jaune said. "I mean, Pyrrha might be better off talking to them than me, but one of us will. And I'll remember everything else that you said, too."

"Great," Ruby said, releasing his arm. "Because it's all true."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of Jaune folding Ruby's letter up and putting it into his pocket.

The goodbyes had been said, or at least goodbyes had been said, the best goodbyes that could be thought of in the moment, and yet…

Parting was such sweet awkwardness.

Pyrrha was almost glad to hear Arslan shout from behind her. "Hey, P-money! Come on, or we'll sail without you!"

Jaune winced. "I think that's our cue."

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured. She took a breath. "Farewell. Until the happy day we meet again." She turned away, because if she lingered more, then … then it would only prolong the sorrow, and it had been prolonged enough already.

Perhaps there was some merit to a swift goodbye.

She turned away, and Jaune turned away with her. They began to walk out of the skydock, towards the doors that led onto the landing pad and the waiting airship. They were to the rear of a stream of people, students and civilians, making their way in the same direction towards the same destination: the airship, and then Mistral.

"Goodbye!" Penny yelled out.

Pyrrha twisted her body a moment to wave to Penny, but then turned back once more, wheeling her suitcase behind her towards Arslan, waiting at the doors.

"How did that go?" Arslan asked as they reached her. She pushed the doors open, and the three of them walked out into the sunlight shining down from above, strolling across the tarmac to where the airship sat upon the ground.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "As well as could be expected, I think," she said. "I hope."

"I have to say," Arslan said, "I'm a little surprised at you two heading home — or heading to Mistral in your case, Jaune — like this. I thought you'd stick around and see if Beacon reopened."

"Well…" Pyrrha paused a moment, wondering how much she could tell Arslan.

Even if she wished to tell her more than she knew, even to tell her all that Pyrrha knew, it would hardly be the best time to tell her now.

"I am called home," Pyrrha said. "And Jaune has very kindly agreed to accompany me."

Arslan frowned. "You are called home?" she repeated. "Called by who? Could you be any vaguer than that? You sound like a cryptic old seer!"

"Vague, I will grant, but hardly cryptic," Pyrrha replied, a touch of defensiveness in her voice. "I—"

"Wait up!"

The voice belonged to Nora, shouted at high volume as she and Ren burst through the doors and dashed the distance separating them from Pyrrha, Jaune, and Arslan. Ren had a rucksack slung across both his shoulders, while Nora was carrying a large round, tube-shaped bag in one hand, that banged against her legs as she ran.

"Great, you're still here, and so is the airship," Nora said. "For a second, we thought we might miss you."

"Nora," Pyrrha said. "Ren, what are you—?"

"We're coming with you!" Nora said brightly. "You're going to Mistral, right?"

"Yeah," Jaune said. "But—"

"Professor Goodwitch asked us to accompany you," Ren said. His lilac eyes narrowed somewhat. "Although she didn't say why."

"She asked without saying why, and you just … decided to do it?" asked Jaune, slightly incredulously.

"She's always been good to us in the past; I'm sure she knows what she's doing," Nora replied. "And besides … with Yang gone—"

"And Beacon's immediate future somewhat uncertain," Ren added.

"We thought maybe it was time for a change of scenery," Nora finished. "So, what do you say, fancy some company?"

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune. He nodded.

"You would be very welcome," Pyrrha said. "I look forward to getting to know you better."

How about that, Sunset? We have some help already.

I hope it reassures you.

If only there was something that could befall you that would reassure me as to your future prospects.

Penny — along with Sunset and Ruby — had left the skydock, because from outside, it was much easier to get a good view of the airships flying away. Inside, there was a roof in the way, obviously, but outside, they could just look up into the sky and watch as the airship made their way slowly eastwards, towards the mountains, and then … and then to whatever was on other side of the mountains, the place where Ruby's mother had come from, a wild place. And then after that, there was the sea, and then … then they'd be in Mistral, or at Mistral. The kingdom of Mistral, not the city of Mistral.

"They'll be alright," Penny said. "Won't they?"

"Once they reach Mistral, they'll be fine," Sunset assured her. "You haven't seen it, but Pyrrha's house is pretty big. She lives in a mansion, with servants and wealth and luxuries. The only problems she'll have in Mistral are—"

"The grimm," Ruby said. "Salem maybe. Jealousy. Professor Lionheart being a traitor—"

"Yeah, okay, Ruby," Sunset said. "My point is that those are all … they can handle those kinds of trouble, but they'll be handling them from a much easier starting point than, well, us. You and me especially, Penny; I expect Starhead Industries has some deep pockets, even if it doesn't have the same respect in Vale as the House of Nikos does in Mistral."

Penny nodded. "And they'll get to Mistral, won't they?" she asked. "They'll make it just fine?"

Sunset nodded. "Yeah, yeah, they will," she said. "They'll make it no problem, guaranteed."

Sunset was lying about that, Penny thought, but she wanted to believe it, so she didn't question it. She didn't say anything; she just watched the airships lazily sail away, moving slowly compared to the ships that had set off for Atlas, their wings beating slowly up and down, up and down.

They were moving so slowly that it left a lot of time for something to go wrong along the way.

Be okay, both of you. Make it to Mistral safe, so that we can meet again someday.

Penny bowed her head. She felt … all she had wanted was to live with her friends, and now, her friends were scattered across Remnant.

And they'd get more scattered still, very soon.

She looked at Ruby. "This is it, isn't it?" she asked. "You're leaving too, right?"

Ruby didn't quite meet Penny's eyes. "There's … not a lot else worth hanging around for, is there?" she asked. "I need to go too, make my way to Starhead Island and beg Iona to take me on early."

"'Beg'?" Penny asked. "But what if she says no?"

"I won't take no for an answer," Ruby said, which sounded cool, although Penny wasn't sure how much sense it made. "If she wanted me as I am … she can have me as I am. If she didn't want me for three more years, or if she wanted the person she thought I might be in three years, why not just wait to make me the offer in the first place? I'm sure that she'll … and if she really doesn't, then I'll do my best anyway, without Starhead's deep pockets or soon to be former Councillor Emerald … what is it that you expect him to do for you, exactly?"

"For me?" Sunset asked. "Nothing. I expect him to tell me where to go and fight things."

"Can't you just work that out for yourself?" asked Ruby.

"How?" Sunset replied. "Especially since I'm not a huntress, especially with the CCT down? Should I look in local newspapers for reports of suspicious deaths? For that matter, how are you going to find your missions?"

"Maybe I'll look for suspicious deaths," Ruby said. "You know what I think. I think that you like having someone tell you what to do, where to go; that way you don't have to take responsibility for your decisions."

Sunset gasped as she put her hands on her hips. "Excuse you! I do too take responsibility for my decisions! I take so much responsibility it feels like I'm being stabbed sometimes — and sometimes, it hurts even worse!" She sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "But I … I believe in hierarchy, that there are those who are set above the common run, those who are better than the rest, and that those people should be the ones making decisions, not just any random person with an idea in their head."

"So it isn't that you don't want to take responsibility; you just don't want to make choices," Penny said.

Sunset made a funny noise, maybe laughing but not quite; it almost sounded as though she barked or huffed or … Penny wasn't quite sure what the word was, but Sunset made a noise like that, anyway, and said, "Well, considering some of the decisions I've made, can you blame me?"

Ruby snorted. "Do you want an answer to that?"

"I think I can guess," Sunset muttered.

Ruby glanced away for a second. "Sunset, can I be honest?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You haven't been up until now?"

"I think it's a good thing that Pyrrha's gone and you're staying here, because you … do you want to know what the one thing is that would make you a better person? You need to not be so scared all the time. You need to … I know that the world is a scary place, and what we're doing is kinda scary too, and I also know that you're not a coward; that's not what I'm getting at; I know you'd die for Pyrrha, you'd die for Penny, you'd even die for me still, I think, but … okay, it's actually two things, sorry, not one, you need to not be so scared about what might happen to your friends, because when dying for them isn't a choice, you do terrible things for them … but at the same time, you need to learn to start dying for people you don't like."

Sunset was quiet for three point four seconds. "I feel like you've jumped to the hard mode there; can't I start by learning to die for people I feel indifferent towards?"

Ruby said, "This isn't a joke, Sunset."

"I know," Sunset muttered. "Believe me, I know."

"Care more," Ruby said. "But also don't care so much. If you can do that, then you'll be a better person."

Sunset frowned. "The first … I will concede," she murmured. "The second…" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Ruby, but the second one is just not possible. My heart … is who I am; all I can tell you is that I won't let it lead me into such a swamp as it did before."

Now, it was Ruby's turn to be quiet, for two point eight seconds, before she said, "I believe you. I … yeah, I believe you. I wish you could give me a better answer, but, yeah, I believe you." She shook her head. “You were never meant to be a huntress.”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But then, I won’t be a huntress now, will I?” She paused. “We’ll neither of us be huntresses. We are to be sworn swords, warriors serving our chosen masters.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ruby said. “I’m going to be a huntress, just … with a powerful patron behind me.”

“Of course,” Sunset said quietly. “Forgive me, I forgot.”

Penny wasn’t sure that Sunset actually believed Ruby, or was just saying something so that she and Ruby wouldn’t fight about it.

“But you,” Ruby went on. “Yeah, I guess you are going to be like some old knight in a story, doing what a king tells you, going where he tells you. Or like an Atlesian specialist, following orders. Only he has no right to give you or anyone else orders; he’s just some random guy you’ve chosen to serve and obey.” She frowned. “Why do you like him so much?”

"He's a good man, trying his best," Sunset answered. "A good man whom I have tried somewhat and owe him a debt in consequence."

"That's about what I thought it might be," Ruby said. "Anyway, good luck working for him, even when he is just a guy."

Sunset took Ruby's hand in what looked like a firm clasp. "And good luck serving—"

"Working with," Ruby said.

"Your young princess," Sunset finished. "I hope it goes well for you."

"I hope it goes well for Vale," Ruby said. "I hope that we both do well, fight well, and keep people safe." She looked at Penny. "Sorry, that should be the three of us."

"It's okay," Penny said. She grabbed Ruby and yanked her away from Sunset to pull her into a hug. "When I said that meeting you all was the best thing that ever happened to me, that includes you. Don't forget that. Please don't forget that."

She felt Ruby's hand upon her shoulder as Ruby said, "Take care of Sunset. Keep her on the straight and narrow."

"I'll…" Penny looked at Sunset, whose face didn't offer much help. She didn't look offended by it, so Penny said, "I'll do my best!" She saluted.

Ruby let out a snuffling snort. She took a step back, looking from one of them to the other as a breeze ran outside the skydock to make her cape ripple in the wind.

"People are counting on us," she said. "We can't let them down."

And then she'd turned her back on them, running away, trailing rose petals in her wake, running away at the top speed of her semblance, disappearing out of sight faster than Atlesian or Mistralian airships had managed to do.

Penny looked at Sunset. They were the last two now, the last two left.

The last of all their friends.

Put like that, it sounded very lonely, but at least she still had Sunset.

Sunset to whom she moved a little bit closer.

"So," she said. "What now?"

Sunset sat amidst a field of flowers.

She was sitting on the grass, somewhere behind the Green Line, beyond the walls of Vale whilst still being in recognisably Valish territory, and poppies grew around her. The red flowers, like drops of blood, like the rose petals that fell from Ruby's semblance, stretched out in blotches all around her, clumps of them rising from the grass.

Sunset had found a gap amidst one such clump, and now she saw blades of grass getting in her tail, with her motorcycle lying almost on its side in another poppyless patch just a little behind her.

Slung on one shoulder, she had a haversack containing her meagre possessions: a stuffed unicorn, a white knight chess piece, an older chess piece that she'd found in the Emerald Forest during the first mission of what had become their battle against Doctor Merlot, the Dark Regalia of Evenfall Gleaming, which might have come in handy if she’d had them with her in the battle. There were a couple of changes of clothes in there too, but they had less weight for her.

And into that haversack would go the magic journal, which presently sat upon Sunset's lap, once she had finished writing in it.

She had not even begun to write in it at present. The page sat open before her, the pen was in her hand, but she had not yet begun to write.

There seemed so much to write about, to potentially write about, that it was hard to decide where to begin.

She looked around, ears twitching slightly. Penny had left her for a moment — she would be returning soon — while Cinder…

Sunset couldn't see either of them, but that mattered little at the moment because it was a beautiful sight that confronted her, the splashes of colour rendered by the poppies upon the green. It was so peaceful here, she could hear the birdsong undisturbed, undrowned out by any other sounds; it was almost idyllic. It was hard to believe that this area had been the site of a great battle only a few days earlier.

If only things were always this peaceful in Remnant.

Sunset bent her head, turning her attention away from the poppy fields and to the blank page in front of her.

Her hand was firm as she began to write.

Dear Princess Twilight,

If you aren't in a position to answer at present — maybe you've gone to Skyros for all I know — then don't worry about it. It might even make things easier. Nevertheless, please don't show Princess Celestia this entry as I would rather write to her myself than have you convey in some form some of the information that I'm about to give you.

Professor Ozpin is dead.

He was

Dead? Your headmaster is dead?

I thought you might not be here.

It just took me a second to get to the book. He's dead? Really?

I wouldn't lie or joke about something like that.

No. No, of course you wouldn't. Alright, I won't show this to Celestia. I'm afraid she can't come to speak to you herself; she's in Manehatten right now.

That's fine. As I said, I'll speak to her myself. She deserves to hear this from me directly. As directly as possible, anyway.

You're right. Though they only spoke once, she seemed quite fond of him.

She wasn't the only one.

How are you doing?

Such a simple question, and yet so hard to answer. I Sunset took a moment to consider. How was she doing? Sunset: I'd rather give you all the details and then tell you; otherwise, it will be very hard.

There was a pause of a few seconds before Twilight answered. Okay. So how did he die? Was it peaceful?

Probably not. He was killed by Amber.

Amber? Amber, the girl you saved?

The very same, unfortunately. She betrayed us and made a deal with Salem that she would hand over the Relic of Choice in exchange for her freedom, that Salem wouldn't hunt her anymore. We didn't find that out until very recently, until it was practically happening to tell you the truth, although we could have learned it if we'd trusted Cinder. You see — I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me a little bit because this gets complicated — in order for her deal with Amber to hold, then Cinder would

Would be left out in the cold. She had half the magic, but she would never get the other half. Why would Salem betray her like that?

That's right, well done. As to why, I think it might have been because of things like the time Cinder helped us against Merlot or maybe the time Cinder fought the duel against Pyrrha. Maybe Salem was just fed up with the way that Cinder didn't seem to be getting anywhere. In any case, Cinder guessed that she had been betrayed, and she tried to kill Amber. But we fought her and defeated her, but Pyrrha declined to kill her, and she was arrested instead.

And that's when she told you that Amber had betrayed you all.

Yes, but we didn't believe her.

I can understand why.

We have excuses, but it doesn't change the fact that Cinder was right, and that if we'd believed her and acted on what she told us, then Professor Ozpin might still be alive.

And the fact that Cinder happened to be right doesn't change the fact that she'd given you scant reason to trust you. If Chrysalis showed up and told me that Starlight was planning to betray me, then I'd have a hard time believing her, absent any proof. It's natural to want to believe the best in your friends; I'd even say it's a good thing.

Ruby would disagree with you. She says I care too much. She knows about what I did.

There was another pause from Twilight. Twilight: You mean when you made your choice on the train.

Precisely.

How did she find out about that?

That part doesn't really matter; the point is that it came out, I confirmed it, and everyone knows now. Well, Ruby knows, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Blake, Rainbow, Ciel, the other Twilight, they all know. Other people think that it was all faked, a wild accusation aimed at me. But they know the truth.

And did they take it as badly as you were afraid they might?

Ruby, definitely; Jaune, kind of at first, but he cooled down or calmed down or whatever pretty fast; Pyrrha and Penny took it better than I could have hoped for. Mind you, even Ruby doesn't seem angry anymore, just disappointed. Hence her telling me that I care too much.

As I might have told you before, I'm not sure that's possible. Even when it leads to actions that may strike others as too much, that's not the result of the care itself but of other qualities: rashness or forethought, desperation, lateral thinking. Somepony could care as much as you do, or more, and still come to a different conclusion. To reduce it to an abundance of care, or suggest that to care less is the solution is reductive, and wrong, in my opinion. The answer is to think differently, not to feel less.

That advice is so tailored to myself and to flatter my sensibility that I feel like I should distrust it on principle.

Hah. Well, you can decide for yourself. But did this happen at the same time as you found out Amber?

Yes, it did. I think it was intended to distract from whatever Cinder might have told us, not that that was really required.

So what happened?

Sunset decided to skip over her momentary exile from Beacon. It was an interlude that was not worth going over again, especially given what had happened to Beacon. Nothing happened to Amber, to our sorrow. She was left alone, and during the course of a grimm attack on Beacon at the close of the Vytal Tournament, she was able to slip away from the school unnoticed.

A grimm attack?

Yes. Orchestrated by Salem to provide cover for the theft of the Relic. We have passed through a great battle, and Professor Ozpin is not the only casualty of the fighting.

Twilight's next words came slowly, haltingly, as though she was struggling to write, or perhaps simply feared what the answers might be. Your friends, are they all There was a pause. Did they make it okay?

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. They are all alive, thank Celestia, but Flash was badly hurt.

Oh my, Celestia. Do I want to know how bad it was?

I don't know, do you? Probably not. I don't want to think about it myself, still less to inflict such thoughts on you. Let's just say that it was bad and leave it at that. Fortunately, Atlesian medical technology is as advanced as all their other technology, but that still doesn't change the fact that he was hurt in the first place. Councillor Emerald, to whom I have come to feel a certain fondness, was shot, by a Siren.

Grimm and a Siren?

And more besides, it was a very long night. A long night, with much loss but also, for some, much glory. Ruby is acclaimed as a hero for slaying a mighty grimm that had vanquished all other defences and beaten a path to the walls of Vale itself. I myself have some recognition for helping Councillor Emerald resolve a crisis within the city, but I would trade all of that in a heartbeat for a healthy Flash, or still more for Professor Ozpin to be alive.

No doubt you would. You said Amber left; I take it she came back then?

Yes, she did, when everyone else had left Beacon — the battle there was at that time concluded — and killed Professor Ozpin and tried to take the Relic from out of the Vault.

'Tried'?

Sunset sighed. Some of my friends found out what was going on and went to stop her: Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Rainbow, Blake, Ciel. Oh, and Blake's boyfriend Sun, for some reason. Anyway, they were too late to save Professor Ozpin, and most of them ended up tied down in various battles, so it fell to Pyrrha, alone, to confront Amber and her allies.

I'd say I don't like where this is going, but you've already told me that all your friends survived.

Well, I'm aiming to build suspense for you, although even by Pyrrha's own admission, it was touch and go for her. She was saved by Cinder.

By Cinder?

Yes, by Cinder, who saved me too by killing the Siren.

But I thought you said she'd been arrested?

I also said it was very complicated. Cinder was arrested, then she was handed over to the Siren, then she rebelled and killed the Siren, and then she ended up at Beacon somehow where she saved Pyrrha's life. Amber is dead, but the Relic was gotten away by some of Salem's servants.

So one of your friends didn't make it. Or does she no longer count because of her betrayal?

No, no, that's a fair point. Obviously, I wouldn't trade Pyrrha for Amber, but I do regret that Sunset ran her free hand through her hair, brushing against her equine ears. I regret that it came to this. I regret that all this happened; I regret the consequences that have flowed from all of this. You ask me how I feel, Twilight; I feel regret. I feel regret, and I feel tired. I feel bone tired, not just from all the running around I did a few nights ago, but because

She closed her eyes and screwed up her face; Twilight couldn't see it, but she didn't press Sunset for a conclusion to her sentence, didn't start to speak; Sunset found that she could half-imagine her, waiting patiently on the other side of the book.

I am tired of death and destruction.

Twilight still didn't reply for a few moments. I don't think anyone could blame you for that. It doesn't sound as though any of this was really your fault, but I suspect that you know that already, and just hearing it — or reading it — from me won't change how you feel. So, what happens now, with Professor Ozpin gone, and Amber too?

Now my friends are scattered. Pyrrha and Jaune are gone to Mistral, at Professor Goodwitch's request, to oppose the will of Salem there if she should turn her gaze upon that city next. My Atlesian friends have sailed home to Atlas, by order of their council. Ruby has gone to work for a group called Starhead Industries, who will treat her with more deference than I did. Penny and Cinder are all that remain with me.

Cinder? Cinder again?

She saved Pyrrha's life, and mine. She defeated the Siren, she surrendered the powers of the Fall Maiden up to Pyrrha

From what you've told me, that doesn't sound like a wholly good thing?

It isn't, but it was well meant on Cinder's part, no poisoned chalice. She meant to do the right thing, and when it comes to the magic of the Maidens, I'm not sure there is an unalloyed right thing; there are only the best choices available, and I believe that Pyrrha was the best choice. Cinder did the best she could in the circumstances. I'm sure that Pyrrha will manage, with Jaune's help, and in the heart of Mistral as she is, where she is well respected. All the more so now that she has won the Vytal Tournament.

That sounds Another pause. almost irrelevant.

Sunset snorted. You're not wrong, but it will carry weight in Mistral. But anyway, my point is that Cinder has surely earned my trust after all that. You've embraced ponies to your side for less.

Who'd done less too. But I take your point. There's no need to make someone jump through hoops before you forgive them; in fact, I'd argue that if you do, it isn't really forgiveness.

It's a good thing Cinder didn't do it for my forgiveness, then. She did it — she saved Pyrrha, at least — because she cares. And so here she is. I have her, and I have Penny, when all others are gone beyond my power to help them.

I'm a little surprised you didn't go to Mistral with Pyrrha.

I would if I followed my heart, but I can't abandon Vale or Councillor Emerald, not after the trouble that I've caused for them. Once again, I'm serving Councillor Emerald, or Mister Emerald, as he is soon to become.

As a huntress?

Something like that.

Something a little less like that might be better. You said yourself you're tired of the death and destruction; aren't you afraid that this conflict is going to grind you down? It worries me, from reading what you write. I think it must worry Princess Celestia too, and will doubtless worry her more when she hears from you herself. Surely, there must be something you could do that would take less of a toll upon you.

A little late for that now.

It's never too late.

Yes. It is. For me, it is. This service is what I owe the world.

You don't owe that world a thing, certainly not your life.

I'm not trying to get myself killed.

And I'm not talking about your death, I'm talking about your spirit.

My spirit will be fine.

Because Penny and Cinder are with you? I must speak my mind, Sunset, I don't know how much I believe you. Do you believe yourself?

Yes. Yes, I do. I suppose I can understand why you feel this way, with what I've said or how I've put it, but I can keep going. For Professor Ozpin

That sounds more like 'must' or 'feel like I should' than 'can'?

It's can. It's both. I can do this.

I hope you're right. I just don't want to see you burn out to nothing, and I know that Princess Celestia doesn't want it either. Promise that you'll take care of yourself, for the sake of Princess Celestia if nothing else.

I promise. For what it's worth, I don't think that what comes next will be as bad as some of what came before.

I hope you're right.

So how about you? Have you made it to Skyros yet?

No. To be honest, I haven't even really thought about it since Twilight stopped abruptly. Now, it was Sunset's turn to wait patiently for her to resume her sentence.

Sorry, I've got to go. Princess Celestia has asked me to come to Manehatten and help her.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Trouble?

I didn't think so, but I suppose I'll see when I get there.

The work of a princess is never done. Okay. Later on, I'll shut up, and you can tell everything that's been going on with you. I expect a lot of happy news.

I'll do my best. Until then, goodbye, and again, take care of yourself.

You too; have fun in Manehatten.

She closed the book, staring down at the symbol on the cover, her cutie mark, the sun that was half burning red, half golden.

She wasn't quite sure what it really meant.

As Sunset ran her fingertips over the embossed symbol, a shadow fell across it.

"That looks like an old book," Cinder observed. "Very old, to have no title. What's it about?"

Sunset looked up at her. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there, like a will-'o-the-wisp," Cinder replied. "Keeping out of sight, out of trouble. When you're supposed to be dead, you can't go around attending funerals or saying goodbye to all one's friends — if I had any friends." She stretched out her arms on either side of her, moving them back and forth. "So, what now?"

"Now," Sunset said, climbing to her feet, "we wait for—"

"Sunset!" Penny cried as she cycled up to them across the grass.

She was riding a bicycle — a pedal bicycle, not a motorbike — of pastel pink, with glittering streamers on the handlebars and a white basket on the front adorned with flowers. Her helmet matched the colour of the bike itself, being pink with blue stars on it. She was pedalling furiously, her legs moving frantically as she achieved speeds that Sunset's motorbike could have obtained, and though she swayed from one side to another as she came, she maintained an admirable balance for how fast she was going. She dodged and swayed her way through the poppy patches without once disturbing the flowers before finally coming to a stop close to Sunset and Cinder.

"Look at this!" she cried. "Isn't it adorable!"

"It … it's certainly very cute," Sunset allowed. "Although I did think you'd get something with an engine."

"I looked at some of those," Penny said. "None of them were as cute as this. Plus, I don't have a licence for a motorcycle, but you don't need one for a regular bike."

"That … is a very good point," Sunset allowed. "Still, it looks like you can move pretty fast on that thing as it is. Anyway, we're all here now."

"Hmm," Penny murmured.

"Nice to see you too, Penny Polendina," Cinder said.

"You remembered?" Penny asked, sounding a little wary.

"I thought that I should make the effort," Cinder replied airily.

"Hmm," Penny said again. "You were saying, Sunset."

"I was saying that we're all here now," Sunset said. "And that means that we can get going. Councillor Emerald—"

"Whilst he remains Councillor Emerald," Cinder murmured.

"Told me to go to Mount Aris; former Councillor Aris has accommodation for us set up there. For me and Penny, at least, but I'm sure there'll be room for a ghost as well."

"The dead are used to living simply," Cinder said.

"But first, I have to go to Alba Longa," Sunset said. "I have some messages to deliver."

She telekinetically lifted up her bike but did not mount it yet; she simply wheeled it along the ground, moving slowly — or slower at least than she would have moved while riding — across the grass, with Cinder on one side of her and Penny on the other.

"I won't pretend to know what the future holds," Sunset said, "because, after all, who could have guessed that we three would end up like this?"

"Not I, for sure," Cinder said.

"Me neither," admitted Penny.

"But whatever comes next," Sunset went on, "we'll be okay, and we'll get through it, because we're together. And all our friends will be okay too, because none of them are alone. They've all got someone looking out for them, until we see them again."

And so, the three of them walked across the rolling fields, into the bright light of a new day.

Author's Note

And with that, finally, the first phase of this story is complete - again! This rewrite turned out to be a much bigger thing than I envisaged that it would be when I started it, and it turned it to be a very different beast than I had planned as well, when I look back at what I described as my intentions for this rewrite, I accomplished some of them - in particular more stuff to set up Blake joining the Atlesians - but the intention to have more interactions between Ruby and Sunset is almost hilariously ironic.

Nevertheless, I'm proud of what I did, I think a lot of this works better than it did the first time around, in particularly the stuff around Amber at the end here, and also the stuff around Cinder as well, who has grown into one of my absolute favourite characters and whose relationship with Sunset is a pure delight to write.

So, as I say, I'm proud, but also a bit exhausted because I've been working on this exclusively for over a year, it feels like, and I need a break. As a result this story will be going on hiatus for a bit, I can't say exactly how long, before continuing on, I just want to write some other things, do something with the other ideas that have been knocking around in head while SAPR has been at my fingertips.

So, to those of you who have stuck with the series this long, thank you very much and I will definitely see you later - just not this Friday!

Summary of Part One

Author's Note

This is something that I probably should have done at intervals throughout this story, summarised the arcs once they were finished to make it easy for the readers to refresh themselves on details they couldn’t quite recall over a million. I didn’t do that, but now is the right time to summarise everything that has gone over the million words of this story so far.

Summary of Part One

Summary of Part One

Sunset Shimmer, ambitious, self-centred and bitter-hearted after her experiences in Atlas, arrives at Beacon Academy determined to make a name for herself. She is angry and disappointed to find out that her ex-boyfriend, Flash Sentry, has also enrolled at Beacon, but contrary to her worst fears they do not end up on the same team together. Instead Sunset lucks out in getting teamed up with the young prodigy Ruby Rose and the famous prodigy Pyrrha Nikos; also on the team is Jaune Arc. Together they are designated Team SAPR, pronounced Sapphire.

Other teams include:

Team YRDN (Iron): Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren, Dove Bronzewing, Nora Valkryie
Team WSTW (Wisteria): Weiss Schnee, Flash Sentry, Russell Thrush, Cardin Winchester
Team BLBL (Bluebell): Blake Belladonna, Lyra Heartstrings, Bonnie ‘Bon Bon’ Bonaventure, Sky Lark

As Team SAPR settles down to their first night in dorms they discover that they are occupying the room that used to belong to Team STRQ, the team of which Ruby’s father, uncle, and late (and revered) mother were members alongside a certain Raven Branwen. Team SAPR carve their initials on the wall above the STRQ markings and vow to be just as great as their illustrious predecessors.

That might be easier said than done, however, as Sunset’s jealousy of Pyrrha’s fame threaten the equilibrium of the team. Things only get worse when Sunset gets into contact with Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship, and is aghast to learn that Princess Celestia not only got a new student in Sunset’s absence but that said student did what Sunset could not and achieved ascension. Sunset takes out her frustration on Pyrrha, leading to tensions within the team that are only resolved by a duel between the two of them. Although Sunset is ultimately no match for Pyrrha’s skill, she puts up a good fight with her magic and the two come to respect one another for the amount of effort they have each put in to being the best at their respective skillsets.

Someone who is not the best, nor does he appear to be putting in the effort required to become so, is Jaune, the weak link on Team SAPR. Furthermore, his continued romantic pursuit of Weiss leaves him vulnerable to the bullying of Cardin Winchester. Although Sunset, motivated by a blind terror that Weiss and Flash are about to hook up at any moment, is inclined to dislike Weiss (the feeling is mutual) she nevertheless makes a bargain with her: Jaune will stay out of Weiss’ hair and Cardin will stay away from Jaune and SAPR and WSTW won’t have to worry about one another any more.

This agreement doesn’t last for every long as Cardin discovers that Jaune faked his transcripts and has no right to be at Beacon; he blackmails him into being his personal slave. Sunset discovers the truth and is sufficiently moved to help Jaune out, breaking into the school records and stealing his transcripts; since absence of evidence is not evidence of absence they cannot now be used against him; while she’s there she also comes across a journal written by Summer Rose, and takes it to give to Ruby.

Team SAPR goes shopping and run into Weiss, alone, in a dust shop. Shortly after they run into Roman Torchwick and the White Fang there to rob the place; a fight ensues in which several of the White Fang are captured but Roman and his silent companion Neo escape. Blake is angered to discover that the White Fang are working with a human criminal.

Cardin tries and fails to have Jaune thrown out of Beacon. Weiss gets a call from her sister Winter, who informs her that she has a faunus operative working in Vale. Princess Twilight presses Sunset to admit that she cares about her team-mates, and even still cares about Flash. Sunset refuses, but on a field trip into the Forever Fall she is confronted by an angry Cardin and, using him as her mirror, realises that she has been kind of an awful person lately. She resolves to do better, and asks Princess Twilight if she can speak to Princess Celestia. Ruby gives Sunset her first hug in too long while thanking her for her mother’s diary.

While out and about in Vale Ruby and Pyrrha come across a strange girl by the name of Penny Polendina, who quickly flees pursued by a faunus named Rainbow Dash. After a brief fight it turns out that Rainbow Dash is an Atlas student and the leader of Team RSPT (Rosepetal) which also included Penny. Rainbow is trying to keep an eye on her. The three track her down together, swiftly joined by Sunset – who knows Rainbow Dash from Canterlot Combat School and is worried what she might tell Ruby and Pyrrha – and Jaune. They catch up with Penny and spend a fun afternoon at an arcade. Rainbow’s team-mate Ciel Soleil, waiting for them back in their motel room with fourth team member Remnant Twilight Sparkle, is less than enthused to learn this but Rainbow insists that Penny should be able to have some fun and be a normal girl.

Team SAPR plus Weiss are being flow to the trial of the White Fang members captured in the aborted dust robbery when their bullhead is shot down and they are captured by the White Fang. Blake asks her friend Tukson to put his life on the line to find out where they’re being held, and she goes to that location to mount a rescue. Team RSPT have also worked out where Penny’s new friends are being held and stage their own rescue operation which kicks in at about the same time that most of Team SAPR have escaped from captivity anyway. Yang leads the other first years to back them up and a confusing fight breaks out. Adam uses his semblance, Moonslice, and nearly kills Ruby but Jaune discovers his semblance just in time to save her life.

Sunset and Yang pursue a fleeing Adam down into the tunnels. Adam beats Sunset to a pulp and only Pyrrha’s intervention saves her and drives him off; Yang loses Adam but is met by Raven Branwen, her natural mother, who warns her against Ozpin and his machinations. Blake finds Yang and takes her back up to the surface. Sunset confronts Blake, who is both a faunus and a former member of the White Fang, but promises to keep her secrets.

Princess Celestia finally gets in touch with Sunset, having been unable to do so because of the Season Four opener, and the prodigal daughter is reconciled with her surrogate mother.

Ruby and Yang go home for spring break, where their father learns that they have their mother’s diary and know about her silver-eyed magic. Raven visits Tai and laments Summer’s death, as well as Ozpin’s role in it.

Sunset and Jaune, meanwhile, are invited to spend the vacation in Mistral with Pyrrha, the last living descendant of the last Emperor of Mistral before the monarchy was ended after the Great War. Pyrrha’s mother, the formidable Lady Nikos, is less than impressed by Jaune, but Sunset’s courtly manners and magical powers are able to win a guarded form of approval.

The group attends a fancy party, at which is present Professor Lionheart, the headmaster of Haven Academy, and his prized student Cinder Fall. Cinder and Sunset get on well, while Jaune notices how lonely Pyrrha is even here, in the midst of her own city and the society of her own class. He starts to have feelings for her.

Lionheart asks for Pyrrha’s help: there is a grimm ravaging the farms beyond the city, and the city is entirely empty of huntsmen. Pyrrha, Jaune and Sunset head out, accompanied by Cinder and Pyrrha’s mother, and encounter a Karkadann, which they kill. Lady Nikos is sufficiently impressed that she drops all opposition to Pyrrha returning to Beacon for the summer term.

General James Ironwood and the Atlesian fleet arrive in the skies over Vale, and he briefs Team RSPT on the need to shut down the White Fang interdictions of Atlesian arms shipments heading south to Vale through the Forever Fall. Blake finds out that her friend Tukson has been murdered, and asks Sunset for help in stopping Torchwick and his plans. Sunset and Blake make an abortive attempt to capture Torchwick, but he escapes again.

Cinder, angered by Blake’s interference, outs her to the cops as a former member of the White Fang. Sunset enlists the help of Rainbow Dash, who gets General Ironwood to offer Blake an immunity agreement if she comes to help the Atlesians with their White Fang problem. With Blake’s help they decide to smuggle themselves aboard a train carrying weapons and ambush the White Fang when they try to rob it. Ozpin gives SAPR a mission to protect railway workers travelling up the rail line to repair damage. It is a complete coincidence that this will give them the opportunity to work with Blake and RSPT on the way back.

Sunset learns that Pyrrha has feelings for Jaune, but Pyrrha refuses to actually act on them.

After a brief grimm encounter the team arrives at Cold Harbour and joins up with RSPT and Blake. Their train is attacked on the way back and Rainbow Dash and Blake both encounter faces from their pasts: Rainbow’s childhood friend Gilda and Strongheart, whom Blake mentored in the White Fang. Though the fight is difficult at times they manage to drive off the thieves, capturing Torchwick and Neo in the process. Jaune kills someone in the course of the battle and struggles with how he feels about it. Blake does her best to comfort him, while Ozpin partially soothes his conscience and partially guilt trips him into deciding to stay at Beacon and keep on fighting alongside his friends.

Sunset wishes to rest on her laurels in the wake of their triumph, but Blake is resistant to the idea. Jaune asks Pyrrha if he can be her backup for the upcoming school dance; Pyrrha declines, she doesn’t want him to be her backup…but she would love to be his date.

At the dance Sunset and Flash mend fences, and share the last dance that they never got to share, ending things between them in an amicable fashion.

Twilight is working in the CCT tower on the night of the dance, trying to find out who set up Blake. She discovers that Cinder was responsible…right as Cinder attacks the tower. Twilight is able to call Rainbow for help, and Rainbow arrives just in time to save Twilight from Cinder’s clutches. Rainbow holds her own against Cinder at first, but Cinder fights dirty and has Rainbow on the ropes by the time Penny, Ciel, Ruby and Sunset arrive and force her to withdraw. Sunset pursues her, and fights Cinder. Sunset’s desire to know how Cinder could betray them like that activates her semblance and she sees Cinder’s life of abuse, loss and heartbreak. Cinder escapes.

Rainbow’s friends Fluttershy and Applejack, working at an Atlesian blacksite in south-east Vale trying to use Fluttershy’s semblance to communicate with the grimm, are captured by the White Fang.

Sunset struggles with the after effects of her semblance, which has left her infested with Cinder’s anger and hatred, particularly towards Pyrrha. Blake helps her a little bit, and then Ruby helps her a lot by countering Cinder’s anger with the light of her own pure soul.

Ironwood presses Ozpin to do something, and more specifically to trust that the kids are alright and can be trusted with some of the secrets of their shadow war. Ozpin reluctantly agrees and Sunset, Pyrrha, Rainbow and Twilight are given a peak behind the curtain which they then share with Penny, Ciel, Blake, Ruby and Jaune. Everyone struggles with the fact that they are up against Salem, an immortal demon who can never be defeated.

Sunset gets a call from Cinder inviting her to the ruined city of Mountain Glenn; Torchwick agrees to talk to Ruby and volunteers to lead the group to the White Fang base in Mountain Glenn though he claims not to know what they’re doing there. The two teams, plus Blake, Torchwick, Neo and Professor Goodwitch, set out for Mountain Glenn, where the ruins inspire maudlin thoughts on the part of Ruby.

Gilda finds it hard to think about the sweet and gentle Fluttershy as the enemy, and begins to question how far the White Fang is willing to go to achieve its goals.

They get underground, fighting their way through Cinder’s minions and encountering a new kind of beowolf like nothing they’ve ever seen before. They also encounter Salem, via Seer, who tempts them with promises which they refuse but which do prompt Sunset to reveal the truth about her origins to her friends. Sunset and Blake fight and kill Adam. The White Fang start a train, planning to run it through the defences of Vale and open up a breach for the grimm. The gang gets on the train but Sunset, believing that if she stops it then all of her friends will die down in the tunnel, sabotages the controls and fast talks her team-mates into not doing anything to interfere with the train in other ways as it barrels down the line.

Ironwood and Ozpin, warned by Twilight – who was sent away by Rainbow Dash along with Applejack, Fluttershy and Professor Goodwitch – organise the defence of Vale.

The Breach happens. Everyone fights to hold the line. Ruby’s silver eyes activated to save Penny. Everyone just gets away in time before an Atlesian bombing run temporarily halts the grimm. Public gratitude towards the Atlesian forces begins to give way to a morass of conspiracy theories as talk of a false flag abounds.

Blake was wounded in the fighting, and goes to Atlas to get treatment for her body and her mind. She joins Weiss, Sun, Flash and Rainbow Dash in investigating disappearances amongst the faunus who live in the Low Town underneath Atlas, tracing them to a warehouse on the coast where faunus are being genetically sequenced, with those with the best DNA are being shipped off to somewhere else by someone connected to the defunct Merlot Industries.

Blake visits Equestria, where she is counselled by princesses Celestia, Luna and Twilight, getting hope from them. Rainbow talks to Principal Celestia and Vice Principal Luna, who admit that they work for Ozpin although they stop short of telling her that Luna is the Winter Maiden.

Penny is rebuilt by Twilight, Moondancer and her ailing father.

Ruby and Yang are back home once again and get another visit from Raven, who unfolds the tale of Team STRQ, as well as her own circumstances. She urges Yang to abandon Ozpin’s doomed struggle and join her in Anima, but Yang refuses.

Sunset begins to understand Professor Ozpin a little better, and the distrust that she had harboured towards him begins to melt.

Pyrrha accompanies Jaune back to his isolated home in rural Vale. His family are, for the most part, hostile towards both her and Jaune’s chosen path, particularly his sister Sky, although another sister, Kendal, is much more supportive. Jaune impresses his family with how much he has grown up: no longer the boy who ran away from home, he is able to stand up to their collective efforts to browbeat him, and even his hitherto disapproving father concedes that he has grown up while he’s been away. The village is attacked by another strange grimm, but protected by Jaune’s sister Rouge who wields the magic of the geodes passed down through the Arc family.

Sunset, working with Cardin, Ren and Nora because they’re the only students left at Beacon, encounters a strange grimm of her own.

Team SAPR comes together to help Jaune reforge his sword, which was broken in the fighting under Mountain Glenn. He gets upgrades.

Shortly thereafter the team is sent on a mission into the Emerald Forest. This starts them on a trail that leads back to Mountain Glenn, where they temporarily ally with Cinder to discover who is capturing grimm and for what purpose. Cinder reveals that she is the Fall Maiden, a fact which greatly concerns Pyrrha. They just about manage to escape from Mountain Glenn alive, and in the Forever Fall Sunset offers Cinder the first scrap of honest kindness that she’s had in years; Cinder is touched, but too proud and too committed to her path to take the offer.

The group make their way to an isolate dock, and board a ship for the island of Doctor Merlot, who is creating new, stronger, more powerful grimm that serve him rather than Salem. Together SAPR and Cinder shut his operation down, and Cinder chooses to spare Team SAPR when she has the chance to let them die in the fire when Merlot’s facility explodes.

The siren Sonata Dusk arrives in Vale and starts subverting the loyalties of Tempest Shadow, Mercury Black and Lightning Dust. Only Emerald remains loyal to Cinder.

Ruby’s uncle Qrow arrives at Beacon and gets into a fight with Team RSPT. Ozpin tells Sunset, Pyrrha, Rainbow and Twilight about the Maidens, and shows them the horrifying machine that they wish to use to make Pyrrha the Fall Maiden. Everyone is shocked, but Pyrrha – knowing that if she refuses the cup will pass to Rainbow Dash, and if she too refuses then it will go to Ruby who will never refuse – agrees. She and Sunset have a blazing row about this, followed by Sunset going back to her room to talk to Celestia. Celestia encourages her to find another way, and Sunset comes up with a plan to save Amber, the current Fall Maiden currently languishing in a coma after Cinder’s attack. She has Ozpin and Celesita communicate via the magical journal, and the princess gives the ancient hero hope for the future. Ozpin puts his trust in Sunset, and this seems to be vindicated as, with the help of others, she is able to get into Amber’s head using her semblance and wake her up.

However, the damage to Amber’s soul is greater than Sunset expected, and the Amber that wakes up is a selfish, cowardly, fearful girl who doesn’t trust Ozpin or anyone associated with him.

A Mistralian fleet arrives over Vale; Mistral is using the swirl of rumours surrounding Atlesian involvement in the Breach as an excuse for a cynical power play to make themselves look big on the world stage. Pyrrha is rather disappointed in her country.

Kali Belladonna arrives at Beacon, and is surprised to learn that Blake is considering joining the Atlesian military, having come to appreciate them during her work with RSPT.

Amber quits the protection of Team SAPR in favour of that of Team BLBL, now sans Blake but led by Dove Bronzewing. Using her semblance she gains the loyalty of all four of them, then proceeds to sell out Ozpin to Tempest Shadow, promising her the Relic of Choice in return for the safety of herself and Team BLBL.

Rainbow and Twilight’s friends arrive in town for the Vytal Festival, as does Pyrrha’s mother and the Atlesian councillor Cadance.

The Vytal Festival kicks off with victories for Teams SAPR, RSPT, YRBN (now sans Dove but plus Blake) and WSTW. Amber breaks a curfew to attend a dance in Vale, a move which prompts SAPR and RSPT to mount a protection operation for her. And a good thing too because Cinder, having just murdered her stepsister Phoebe, tries to kill Amber too before being driven off by SAPR, RSPT and Tempest Shadow. This reveals to Cinder the truth about the deal that Amber made, a deal she is incensed to learn that Salem agreed to. Cinder quits Salem’s service, and tries to warn Sunset about Amber’s treachery. Unfortunately, between Pyrrha’s reluctance to believe Cinder and a sudden grimm attack not enough is done and Tempest is able to extract Amber from the Atlesian flagship.

SAPR, with the help of Yang and Blake, go hunting for Cinder in Vale; they catch up to her, capturing Mercury in the process, and Cinder surrenders peacefully. She tells Sunset all about how she came into the service of Salem, and reveals her plans to use Penny’s nature as a robot and the Atlesian experiments on grimm to arouse public opinion.

Sunset decides that the time is right to confess her own crimes under Mountain Glenn and tells her friends everything. Ruby is shocked, while everyone is a little more ambivalent about the whole thing. Sunset pleads guilty to all the charges brought by the court and is remanded in custody pending a sentencing hearing.

Pyrrha promises Cinder that she will not allow Sunset to be put to death. Sunset promises Pyrrha that she won’t allow herself to be put to death. Ruby talks to Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Since the world now knows that Penny is a robot, and the Mistralian Commander Yeoh has had her barred from the Vytal Festival, Pyrrha arranges to borrow the Amity Coliseum for a little bit to stage a trio of exhibition matches pitting Penny against Sun, Arslan and finally Pyrrha herself. Pyrrha wins the final match, but Penny unlocks her semblance and goes the distance with Pyrrha in a way nobody has ever done before. Blake recognises someone in the Coliseum as her old friend Ilia Amitola, and realises that the White Fang have sabotaged the arena.

The grimm attack again. Twilight saves the arena with the help of her friends. Everyone fights both in the arena, and then down in Beacon where Flash loses a leg in the fighting. Ozpin is roused by hallucinations of Pyrrha and Sunset to join the fighting and drive the grimm out of the school.

Pyrrha and the others head into the city, where a giant dragon grimm breaks free of the mountain and lays waste to the defences, destroying Atlesian and Mistralian ships and breaking the line. Commander Yeoh dies and passes the sword of command to Pyrrha. The armies fall back to the walls of Vale but find the gates shut against them lest the grimm enter that way. Pyrrha throws Ruby over the wall, and Rainbow also tells Twilight to leave her behind. Ruby prevents Twilight from opening the gate, proving herself stalwart and true to her beliefs even in the utmost exigency. Yang is kidnapped by Raven and presumed dead. The lives of the huntsmen are saved by the reappearance of Sunset.

The prison at which Sunset was being held was attacked by the White Fang, and Sunset intervened to protect the staff and restore order, giving her parole to return to jail once the battle in the city was resolved.

Everyone joins forces to kill the dragon, with Penny striking the final blow.

Blake and Ozpin both call for help: the former is under siege by the White Fang, the latter has just spotted Amber coming to get the Relic from the abandoned school.

Sunset, Ruby and Team RSPT go to the aid of Blake. Gilda switches sides. Sienna Khan, High Leader of the White Fang, is forced to retreat.

Amber kills Ozpin. Pyrrha frees Cinder from her confinement as the only one who can help her win this battle. Together they confront Amber, Tempest, Lightning Dust and Team BLBL down in the vault of the Fall Maiden. Pyrrha fights hard, but having fought her way to Amber she is left to weak to actually face Amber, and only Cinder’s intervention saves her life. Tempest escapes with the Relic of Choice.

Cinder helps the wounded Pyrrha back up to the surface, then prepares to kill herself and pass her powers on to Sunset. Sunset isn’t having any of that and uses her semblance on Cinder again to free her from the grimm contagion with which she was affected. Sunset ascends, as Cinder passes on to her the powers of the Fall Maiden.

Revelatory Request

Revelatory Request

The snows were beginning to melt in Vale, leaving the streets covered in a wet slush through which Sunset squelched as she made her way towards the café where Professor Goodwitch had asked to meet.

Her outfit had changed a little bit since the professor had seen her last, although the broad strokes of it were still pretty recognisable: her jacket had gotten a little shorter on the body, barely going down past her armpits to the extent that it was barely a jacket at all, and certainly it had no pockets to stick her hands in as she walked, although it did have orange stripes around the arms just above the elbows; her blouse was a turquoise that matched her eyes, with a pale yellow underskirt emerging from beneath it; only her blue jeans remained the same, while her boots were shorter and tighter, and had the same orange stripe as could be found on her jacket. She had left all her armour behind with Cinder, along with her weapons, although her bridal gloves yet embraced her hands and headed upwards before they disappeared beneath the sleeves of her jacket.

She banged her hands together against the cold as she walked, her breath misting up in front of her face. Nobody paid her any notice as she walked down the street, squelching through the slush as she went; Sunset Shimmer was old news now, and nobody paid that much attention to the Most Wanted list anyway.

All the same, there was a reason why she had to meet Professor Goodwitch at this café instead of going up to Beacon to see her.

Sunset’s eyes turned upwards, her gaze travelling that way towards the school. The stump of the tower was visible still; four months after it had fallen and there was no noticeable progress on rebuilding it. Whether it was incompetence or a lack of interest Sunset couldn’t say; she made a mental note to ask Cardin about it…and then she remembered that she could just ask Professor Goodwitch what was being done when she saw her in a few minutes time.

An unsteady mountain of pots and pans and kitchen utensils, piled high outside the bingo hall – requisitioned by the newly minted Valish Voluntary Service – suggested that it wasn’t apathy that was behind the lack of progress on repairing the tower, so much as resources moving in other directions. Sunset might not have agreed with everything that the Committee of Public Safety was doing to secure Vale, but it couldn’t be denied that it was setting too with a restless energy to which the people of Vale were responding; take all those pots and pans and utensils for example, they had all been voluntarily donated by the people of Vale, and mountains like it were growing all over the city. The call had gone out for all kinds of household metal to be melted down and made into warships for Vale’s new air fleet, and the people of Vale had, it must be said, risen to the occasion; pots, pans, oven trays, the iron railings from parks and gardens, antique old door knocks, all had been donated to the cause of keeping the kingdom safe from future grimm attacks. Voluntary organisations had flourished like flowers springing up after a rain has finally wet the ground after a long drought: the Voluntary Service which did things like collect all the pots and pans and deliver public information leaflets and organise evacuation drills; the Home Guard for those too old or otherwise unable to join the new Army of Vale; the Auxiliary Nursing Corps; the Anti-Air Defence Corps who crewed the AA batteries springing up in all the parks and public spaces of the city; the Kingdom of Vale was coming together in ways that it never had during the long years of peace that had preceded the battle of Vale.

It was just sad that it had taken such a battle and the shattering of that long peace to bring about such a situation; just as it was sad that all of this pent up civic energy and communal spirit was being directed outwards in a fashion which seemed so uncontrolled. It seemed to Sunset a little as though nobody really knew how to keep Vale safe, so they were trying every single idea that they could think of and then some, and that some of these volunteer organisations were more about making otherwise helpless citizens feel involved and as though they were making a difference than they were about making real improvements to the state of affairs. Could you really make air cruisers out of kitchen utensils?

Sunset walked past a platoon of the Home Guard marching the other way. They were old men for the most part, although she saw one boy who looked old enough to be a Beacon student wearing a maroon scarf around his neck; they were armed with carving knives tied around broom handles to create makeshift spears; they had no uniforms, and instead were dressed as if they’d just come from work: a straw hat and striped apron, the three-piece suit of a bank manager. Sunset was a little surprised to find that some of them had their auras activated, and guessed that they might be retired huntsmen, but that didn’t change the fact that they were old men with carving knives strapped to broom handles, where they going to stop the grimm?

She supposed that people wanted to feel useful, and that there was no harm in them being allowed to feel useful, but wasn’t there something actually useful that the government could be doing to protect the kingdom, like mend fences with Mistral and Atlas and get the foreign students who had actually protected the kingdom last time to come back?

Enthusiasm and a sense of public unity was all very well but Sunset couldn’t help but think that without huntsmen it could all turn out to be tragically in vain.

Which is why I do what I do, I suppose. Take out the problems far away so that granddad going down the road can feel like he’d be ready when the time comes without having to actually find out.

The streets were lined with posters, a contradictory series of pulls appealing for men for just about everything: the army, the navy (as far as Sunset knew they hadn’t built any warships yet, but they’d been sticking guns on skyliners for the last three months), Beacon Academy, Combat School, every volunteer association that had sprung up after the battle; they all appealed for men and women to join their ranks, each claiming that theirs was the path down which you could best make a difference; each claimed that they needed you more than anybody else. Cardin’s face beamed down at her from several posters, as did those of Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlettina to be fair (and other faces that Sunset didn’t recognise) but it was Cardin’s face with which she was most familiar and so it was his face which both amused and slightly irritated her, although not as much as she knew it irritated him.

Unlock Your Potential! Proclaimed one recruiting poster featuring the Winchester scion, and Sunset had to admit that joining the military had done more for Cardin Winchester than Beacon Academy ever had.

She reached the café where she was meeting Professor Goodwitch, a middle-market establishment with a modern look to it: big windows that enabled you to look out onto the street and also let anyone out on the street look in at you; a white tiled floor, metallic furniture which Sunset was almost surprised to see hadn’t been donated to build warships yet (in fairness it was harder for businesses to volunteer this stuff than ordinary households, and this was a chain establishment). It wasn’t particularly crowded, in fact when Sunset walked in she could only see four other people there: a cute couple on a date, and a guy with glasses tapping away on his scroll while he sipped from a large latte.

The fourth customer was Professor Goodwitch herself, and Sunset caught her eye as she made her way down the café to where she sat, about in the middle of the place.

“Professor,” Sunset said as she pulled out the chair and sat down.

Professor Goodwitch smiled softly. “You’re not my student any more, Miss Shimmer.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “But calling you anything would seem…strange.”

Professor Goodwitch didn’t press the point. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“How could I not?” Sunset asked. “I was surprised you were able to reach me.”

“You have become a hard person to get into contact with.”

“Well, I am-“ Sunset stopped as the waitress arrived, and took Sunset’s order of a hot chocolate and a caramel shortcake. Professor Goodwitch, having nearly finished her latte, ordered another.

“At the risk of sounding rude I hope you’re paying for this, Professor,” Sunset said. “I’m not exactly drawing a salary at the moment, and the money that Lady Nikos was sending me has dried up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m picking up the tab,” Professor Goodwitch assured her.

“Thanks,” Sunset said. Her gaze briefly followed the waitress, who was now behind the counter making the drinks. “Is she the only person working here?”

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “I used to know four people who worked here, but one of them has joined the army, one the navy, and the last has applied to Beacon. Everyone wants to do their part these days.”

“So it seems,” Sunset said. “You come here often?”

“Every now and then,” Professor Goodwitch said. “It was sufficiently far from Beacon that I could be reasonably sure of not being disturbed, whether I needed time to grade papers without being interrupted or just wanted to get away for a little bit.”

“Which is what makes it a good place for us to meet too,” Sunset said. “It wouldn’t do for me to be seen coming up to Beacon. Although I’m not exactly attracting a lot notice for a supposed fugitive.”

Professor Goodwitch chuckled. “The kingdom has a lot on its mind right now.”

The two fell silent as their orders arrived, and they only resumed their conversation when the waitress went away again.

“So how did you reach me?” Sunset said.

“I’ve been trying ever since I found out that you got out of prison,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Eventually I twisted Mister Winchester’s arm until he gave me your new number.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been frustrated,” Sunset said. “But my mission is supposed to be confidential; just like the work I used to do for Professor Ozpin.” She paused for a moment, thinking about the headmaster, before she attempted to brush such thoughts aside. “So how is it, being Headmistress of Beacon.”

“I’m only the Acting Headmistress,” Professor Goodwitch said. “At the moment Professor Ozpin is officially missing, and a permanent replacement won’t be appointed until he has been confirmed dead.”

“That’s a little ridiculous.”

“I don’t think they want me on the council,” Professor Goodwitch said. “As only acting headmistress they don’t have to give me that seat.”

“Is there a reason they don’t want you on the council?” Sunset asked.

Professor Goodwitch sighed sadly, and looked out of the large window to her right. “There are times when I wonder what’s happening to this country,” she murmured. “You’ll have seen that no work has begun on repairing the tower.”

Sunset nodded.

Professor Goodwitch continued. “I think that there are certain elements who don’t want the CCT network restored, they’re happier keeping Vale isolated from the other kingdoms.”

“Seriously?” Sunset said. “Vale survived because we stood together.”

“And now the goal is to make sure that Vale can stand alone,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I agree with you, Miss Shimmer, but let’s not pretend that that isn’t where Vale is heading: splendid isolation.”

“Things will calm down,” Sunset said. “The grimm attack will become more distant, people won’t care so much, all of this enthusiasm will die away and people will remember that we’re stronger together than we are apart.”

“I hope so,” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “But in the meantime people don’t want me saying that in the council chamber.” She shook her head sadly. “Ozpin wouldn’t have wanted this.”

“I’m not super happy about all of it,” Sunset said. “But Cardin says that Vale has to do more to defend itself than it did in the past…and I can’t say he doesn’t have a point.”

“Perhaps,” Professor Goodwitch conceded. “Perhaps I am simply too wedded to the way things were to see that they have to change. And I suppose if James can have all of his troops and toys then there’s no reason we shouldn’t have some too. But that’s not what really concerns me.”

“That’s not what concerns either of,” Sunset said. She sipped her hot chocolate. “Professor, you didn’t really ask me to meet with you so that we could talk politics, did you?”

“No, Miss Shimmer, I’m afraid not,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I asked you to meet me because I have a job for you.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “A job as in…Professor Ozpin’s work?”

Professor Goodwitch nodded. “I need you to go to Anima for me.”

Sunset snorted. “Come on, Professor, if you’ve talked to Cardin then you know that I can’t do that.”

“I know that this is far more important than your indenture to Vale,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I know that you know how high the stakes really are here. And I know that you’re the only I can ask to do this. James has his responsibilities in Atlas just as I have responsibilities here, and with the CCT down I can’t make contact with Qrow or Miss Nikos; you’re the last one, the last member of our organisation that I can reach. You’re the only one who can do this.”

“And yet I can’t do it,” Sunset said. “How am I supposed to tell Cardin that I need him to let me wander off to Anima for…for what? What’s so important that you need me to do this?” She began to sip her hot chocolate.

“Professor Ozpin is alive,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Sunset choked on her hot chocolate, and put the cup down heavily as she coughed and snorted and tried to get it all out of her windpipe and nostrils. She was still left with a very uncomfortable sensation up her nose as she looked up at Professor Goodwitch. “What? What the…what do you mean he’s alive? Pyrrha found his cane and his glasses and he’s been missing for the past four months. What’s he been doing? And in Anima? We…I mourned him and all the while he’s been, what? Sitting on a beach somewhere drinking out of a coconut shell.”

“That’s Menagerie you’re thinking of, not Anima,” Professor Goodwitch said dryly.

“Not funny, Professor,” Sunset growled. “I’m serious, I…I thought he was dead and I…” She had wept, for all the time wasted on her groundless, paranoid suspicion of the man, the man who had turned out to mean more to her than she had ever realised when he was actually around for her to tell him so. She had wept until her eyes were red and raw and now to find out that he had ditched them to run away to Anima? “How could he treat us like that? Pyrrha was even more upset than I was and you’re going to tell me that…” she shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Professor Ozpin wouldn’t just abandon the fight and run off,” Sunset said. “He wouldn’t abandon us, that isn’t who he was.”

“No,” Professor Goodwitch said. “It isn’t. But he wasn’t given a choice in the matter. Allow me to explain: the body of the man you knew as Professor Ozpin is dead, I have no doubt of that; it was destroyed, probably by Amber, thus accounting for the paucity of remains that Miss Nikos was able to discover.

“But though the body dies the soul remains, and the soul of Professor Ozpin is…unique.”

“Unique…how?” Sunset asked.

“Cursed by the gods in ancient times,” Professor Goodwitch said softly. “Cursed never to find rest until he can vanquish Salem.”

“But the Professor himself told us that Salem is un-vanquishable.”

“It is a curse,” Professor Goodwitch pointed out.

Sunset leaned back in her chair. “So…Professor Ozpin is immortal but his body isn’t, is that what you’re trying to tell me.”

“That is exactly it, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Goodwitch replied. “When one body dies, his spirit is reincarnated, in a sense, into a new host.”

Sunset frowned. That seemed like a far less efficient means of immortality than simply not dying like Princess Celestia, but then a lot of things about Remnant were inefficient compared to their Equestrian counterparts – Maidens versus princess for example. “So…it was always him, wasn’t it? The old man in the stories, the founder of the secret circle, it was just him all the time wasn’t it, wearing different faces as he went along.”

“Precisely,” Professor Goodwitch said. “This is the worst time for this to have happened, we need him and his leadership now more than ever. Without him the organisation is in chaos, I have no idea what James is doing or where Qrow even is.”

“That’s as much to do with the towers being down, Professor,” Sunset murmured.

“That is true, but it doesn’t change the fact that we need Ozpin to take charge once more,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I don’t know where he is, or what he looks like; nothing about his reincarnation can be predicted except that it cycles through the kingdoms; last time was Vale, so Mistral will be next and that is good because Mistral – with Miss Nikos and Mister Arc and maybe even Qrow – offers the best chance to take stock and rebuild.”

“So you want me to go to Anima, find the new Ozpin without any idea where to start or how to find him, and bring him to Mistral?” Sunset said. “Why didn’t you just tell Pyrrha and Jaune about all this before they left?”

“I would have if I could have reached them,” Professor Goodwitch said. “The Mistralians wouldn’t let me anywhere near Miss Nikos; Valish authority figures no longer had their trust, and I can’t entirely blame them.”

Nor could Sunset, but it made things very awkward. Pyrrha and Jaune would have been ideally placed to take care of this, or at least as ideally as anyone considering the difficulty of the task. “I can’t do it, Professor.”

“You’re the only who can.”

“It’s not as simple as you seem to think,” Sunset replied. “Team Sapphire is gone, in my new team there is one person who I trust not to slit my throat while I’m sleeping. How am I supposed to go looking for Professor Ozpin with a band of cutthroats and desperadoes trailing at my heels?”

“Leave them behind,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“I would, believe me, but…” Sunset hesitated. “I gave my word, Professor. I gave my word to Cardin that I would fight for Vale. I know that this is important but if my word doesn’t mean anything then do I really deserve to serve Professor Ozpin?”

“He must be found,” Professor Goodwitch said. “The new host will be a young man, maybe even a boy, that’s how it works. Someone who knows nothing of any of this, probably not trained in combat, all alone and thrown into a struggle beyond anything he could imagine. He must be found and protected. The servants of the enemy will be seeking him also, we have to get to him first. You have to get to him first.”

Sunset frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, and she certainly didn’t want to turn her back on Professor Ozpin now that he needed here more than ever; she’d left to him die once at the hands of Amber, how could she leave him again for the servants of Salem to come upon him in some dark place where there was no help? Pyrrha and Jaune were close at hand but neither had any idea of this; she was the only one Professor Goodwitch had been able, at last, to tell.

She was being offered a chance to make things right, to do better by the professor than she had done, to serve him better than she had done.

But at the same time… “I have responsibilities here, Professor. Vale needs me and I can’t just keep running away every time it’s inconvenient for me to stick around.”

“Not even when you know that what is at stake matters so much more?”

“I think Professor Ozpin would be the first to say that the survival of an entire kingdom is worth more than his life,” Sunset murmured.

“This Kingdom doesn’t understand that the greatest danger to it has passed,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Now that Salem has the Relic of Choice the Kingdom of Vale is of no more interest to her. I don’t know what her new design will be but we have no hope of countering it without Ozpin, especially now that she has one of the relics in her possession.”

“You put me in a tight spot, Professor.”

“I think we’re all in a tight spot at the moment, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset couldn’t argue with that. “Cardin might more amenable if you would let me-“

“That isn’t your decision to make, Miss Shimmer, or mine,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Professor Ozpin always decided who would know the truth that lurks in the shadows; others might make their recommendations, but the final decision rests with him.”

“And do you think General Ironwood is adhering to that rule in Atlas?”

“What James does in Atlas has no bearing on what we do here in Vale,” Professor Goodwitch replied primly. “And besides, I have no reason to believe that Mister Winchester is deserving of this knowledge or could be trusted with it; I cannot reveal such information as we are privileged and burdened to possess to anyone simply to make our lives easier.”

Sunset frowned. There wasn’t much to argue with that, either. “What about Ruby? Have you spoken to her?”

Professor Goodwitch shook her head sadly. “I don’t think anyone’s spoken to Miss Rose since she went home.”

“What if I spoke to her,” Sunset said. It should be easier to persuade Cardin to let her go to Patch than to let her go to Anima. “Told her what you’ve told me. Then…maybe she would go.” That would be the ideal, for Ruby to find, guard and protect Ozpin while Sunset continued her unpleasant work here in Vale.

“Do you really believe she will?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

Honestly the answer was no, but this also the only easy answer left to Sunset because if (when?) Ruby refused then she would be in the position of having to make some hard choices. So she had to give it a try.

And besides, it had been too long since she had seen Ruby. Since anyone had seen Ruby. She wanted to see how she was doing.

“I don’t know,” Sunset said.

“And what will you do if she can’t go?” Professor Goodwitch said. “Or won’t?”

“I…” Sunset fell silent for a moment. “I really don’t know.”

Three Months Earlier…

Sunset sat down in the room. It was an unfamiliar part of the prison to her, though it looked like an interview room of some description: moderately sized, sparse, but with a table in the middle of it and a chair on either side. She wasn’t sure why a prison needed an interview room, but perhaps it was in case more evidence surfaced after the verdict.

She glanced at Douglas, the guard whose life she’d saved during the prison riot. “So what am I doing here?”

He shrugged.

“Come on, I saved your life,” Sunset said. “The least you could do is answer one question.”

“If I had an answer, I’d give it to you,” he said. “I was just told to bring you in here. Someone wants to talk to you. That’s all I know.” He paused. “Actually, I know one other thing. I was told to wait outside, someone wants this private.”

“Someone who isn’t scared either,” Sunset murmured. “Or they just know I won’t make any trouble.” She smiled in an attempt at seeming jocular. “Perhaps they’ve decided my sentence and have come to tell me that I’m getting out of here, huh?”

Or they’ve decided to put me to death and have come to tell me how long I have left to live.

She couldn’t discount the possibility, even after the battle. For the last month she had heard nothing about her sentencing hearing, let alone her sentence. She hadn’t been asked to provide a list of witnesses who would speak up in mitigation for her, and even if she had been asked most of them had gone by now: Pyrrha and Jaune had sailed for Mistral last week with the remnants of the Mistralian Expeditionary Force, Pyrrha’s mother, the Haven students and most of the Mistral-born Beacon students too; Ruby had gone home to tend to her father; Team RSPT had pulled out two weeks ago with the Atlesian forces, taking Blake with them. Professor Ozpin was dead. She was all alone.

She was alone and Vale was in chaos. The news that Sunset had been hearing, mostly passed to her by Mister Douglas, who seemed to feel – not without justification – that he owed her for saving his life, wasn’t great. The fact that the Mistralian and Atlesian students had all left Beacon was a very bad sign of the way things were going. Vale was in bad odour with both of those nations and it seemed determined to make it worse with its turn towards inward looking isolation. How long before they turned on the faunus?

Apparently the Council had declared a state of emergency, suspending normal processes and elevating a select few of its number to form a Committee of Public Safety with powers greater than those allowed to the Council in normal circumstances. Sunset hadn’t been blind to the possibility that one of those new powers might allow them to simply put her to death without any due process; that was one of the reasons why she’d given the Maiden powers to Pyrrha: because if she was going to die then she wanted to be able to choose her successor now rather than take the risk of who might end up being the last person in her thoughts when they put her to death.

The other reason was that, even if she was not put to death, then the powers of the Fall Maiden wouldn’t be much good to her in a cell; better that they should be out in the wild, as it were, where Pyrrha would make good use of them.

Whatever happens next, I’ve done the best I could to make sure that I’m not missed too much.

Mister Douglas tried to smile at her. “I’m sure it’s not bad news, whatever it is.”

Sunset nodded stiffly. “Maybe not,” she said, without much conviction.

I really wish I could believe you.

“I…” he hesitated. “I’ll be rooting for you, kid, and I’m not the only one here, either. Good luck.”

Sunset, her eyes fixed on the other door, the door through which her visitor would shortly – hopefully, although she wasn’t impatient for it to be over with she didn’t want to wait in dread ignorance for a long time either – emerge, didn’t see him go. She just heard the door behind her clank shut with a heavy metallic thud.

And then the room was empty save for her.

Empty like her life. Ruby gone, Pyrrha gone, Jaune gone; Blake gone, RSPT gone; Professor Ozpin dead.

Professor Ozpin dead. Dead without them ever getting a chance to move on past all the ways that she had let him down over Amber. Dead without him getting a chance to see her become the Fall Maiden, if only for a little while. Dead without her getting a chance to tell him how much she cared about him, valued his wisdom, his trust. Before she could thank him for giving her a shot, for seeing something in her that nobody had seen since Princess Celestia. Dead before she really got a chance to learn from him, as she would have liked.

I’m not sure whether I would have been a good Fall Maiden, Professor, but I would have done my best.

In the end, I hope that you agree that the choice I made was the right one.

She was always your first choice, after all.

But he was gone now, and she was all alone. That was good, it meant there wouldn’t be a scene and nobody would get hurt or ruin their reputations trying to help her.

It also meant that she was alone. All alone except for Cinder, who was in here with Sunset; that was some consolation, even if she wasn’t much help to Sunset’s hopes.

The door at the other end of the room opened. It took Sunset a moment to recognise the man who walked through the door as Cardin Winchester, mostly because she wasn’t used to seeing him out of either his armour or a Beacon uniform. He was wearing a different sort of uniform now: navy blue with silver piping on the collar and cuffs, slightly baggy trousers and polished black boots that thumped on the floor as he marched inside.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Cardin?”

“Sunset,” he said, in an even tone that could have meant anything at all.

“That’s a new uniform,” Sunset observed.

“Uh-huh,” Cardin said as he sat down. “It’s Captain Winchester now, Captain Cardin Winchester of the Valish Corps of Specialists.”

“The Corps of Specialists?”

“We’re new,” Cardin said.

Sunset rested her elbows on the table in front of her. “You realise that just because you take names from the Atlesian military it doesn’t actually make you the Atlesian military.”

“We don’t want to be the Atlesian military,” Cardin said. “We want to be the Valish military, and keep Vale safe from the grimm and all our other enemies.”

“What other enemies?”

“The White Fang,” Cardin suggested. “And anyone…anyone else, who we’ll find out if they try and make trouble for us.”

“Right,” Sunset murmured. “So you’re…what’s the name…um-“

“The self-strengthening movement?” Cardin suggested. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’d just call myself a patriot but if you want to stick me in a box I suppose that’s as good a box as any for me to go in. It’s a box that we should all want to go in.”

“You think?”

“Yes,” Cardin said firmly. He placed his own hands on the table. “I know that you were one of Professor Ozpin’s prized students, and I know that you probably feel a kind of loyalty to the old man and his way of thinking, but come on: the Breach, the two grimm attacks during the Vytal Festival, the battle of Vale, what more do you want? Vale needs to start taking its defence seriously if its going to survive, we can’t just rely on Atlas any more, especially after what happened during the battle.”

“After the way that Council alienated Atlas and Mistral with its behaviour, you mean?” Sunset said.

“Exactly,” Cardin said, surprising Sunset with his agreement; she had expected him to try and defend the decisions of the Valish authorities. “That was stupid, but we are where we are and where we are is that the Atlesian fleet sailed home two weeks ago.”

“I know.”

“And you also know that the Mistralians are gone too.”

“Yes, I know that too,” Sunset said. “Pyrrha came to say goodbye. Self-strengthening sounds all well and good but how exactly is Vale strengthened by driving out all the foreign students, some of the best students in Beacon?”

“Of course not,” Cardin snapped. “I know that I missed most of the battle but I know what happened. I know that Vale wouldn’t still be standing without Polendina and the Atlesians and all the other students from all the other academies. I know how much better Nikos and Schnee and all the others who are leaving are than me and the rest of us who are left behind. I know that half of the ideas being thrown around for how we can protect ourselves are dumb ones. But you know what? It doesn’t matter, because I’m not making those decisions and I can’t do anything about them; I don’t have to like everything that the Council or the Committee or whatever does, I just have to live here. Because I do live here, Vale is my home and I’m going to fight for it no matter how many stupid things it does. I’m going to fight for it…and I’d like you to fight for it too.”

“You want me to fight?” Sunset said. She hesitated. “You just got done saying that you don’t make the decisions.”

“I don’t,” Cardin said. “But my family has a little pull. Not enough to stop all of the stupid, but enough that I could push one idea and see it float to the top, and that one idea was you.”

“Me?”

Cardin leaned forward. “What are you doing in here, Sunset?”

“The judge is your grandfather, why don’t you ask him what I did.”

“I know what you did,” Cardin said. “And ordinarily I’d be fine with throwing away the key, but Vale needs you right now; more than ever maybe, with so many of the best students having left. But that’s not what I asked: I asked why you were here.”

Sunset frowned. “I don’t follow the difference.”

“I read the reports from the guards about what happened during the battle, the way you saved the prison was pretty impressive,” Cardin said.

“Thank you,” Sunset said softly.

“What was most impressive was the fact that you got out of your cell with your collar off before the White Fang disabled the security systems,” Cardin said.

Sunset licked her lips. “You picked up on that, huh? You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Cardin refused to be deflected. “That collar isn’t doing jack to you, is it?”

“It’s doing something,” Sunset said.

“But not enough.”

“You don’t need to be scared of me,” Sunset said. “My intentions are honourable.”

“I know,” Cardin said. “I got that from the fact that you could have walked out of here any time you wanted, but you haven’t. That’s the reason I’m here, that’s the reason I pushed my folks to use up our influence to get this.”

“And what is ‘this’?” Sunset asked.

“I want you to fight for Vale,” Cardin said. “Officially, you’ll have broken out of prison and remain a fugitive…I wanted to get you a pardon, but nobody wants to take the heat for letting you out of jail right now.”

“So officially I’m the most wanted person in Vale,” Sunset said. “What about unofficially?”

“Unofficially you’ll be leading a squad of…talented convicts on missions to protect Vale from threats to its security,” Cardin said. “All your missions will come from me, all your reports will go through me, and together we can make Vale a safer place.”

“Convicts?” Sunset said flatly. “You want me to lead convicts? Cutthroats and desperadoes?”

“What do you think you are?” Cardin asked.

“I…okay, fair enough, but like you just said yourself, I’m different; how many people in this prison do you think would still be here if they could leave?”

“Why do you think I want you to lead, you’re the only person I can think of who wouldn’t bail at the first opportunity.”

“So I’m keeping an eye on them?”

“Just like I’m keeping an eye on you,” Cardin said. “Theoretically, at least.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. It wasn’t an idea that filled her with enthusiasm to say the least, and to from Team SAPR to Team Murderers wasn’t filling her with warm and fuzzy feelings, but on the other hand…what else was she going to do? Go back to her cell and rot away? Wasn’t doing something, doing some good no less, worth a little discomfort? “You really used up your credibility for this? You don’t even like me.”

“Like you said yourself once, hearts can change,” Cardin said. “And so can we. Vale doesn’t have time for me to hold onto stupid schoolboy grudges any more. Vale needs every weapon that it can lay its hands on…and that’s what worries me.”

“Is it bad out there?” Sunset said. “I’ve heard…some things that didn’t sound great?”

“People are scared,” Cardin said. “People are desperate. We’ve got no time at all to build what it took Atlas years to get right. They’ve already graduated all the students who fought at the battle, they’re talking about graduating the ones who didn’t fight as well so that we can get more bodies in the field. Some people are even talking about graduating the third and fourth year students from the Combat Schools.”

“The Combat Schools?” Sunset said. “They’re just kids.”

“So was Ruby, so the thinking goes.”

“Okay, but Ruby’s a prodigy,” Sunset said. “You can’t generalise by the exception, everybody knows that. You put those kids out in the field you’re going to get ten kids dead for every Ruby Rose you find.”

“I know that,” Cardin said. “I know that we need to give them time to grow into passable huntsmen. I know that we shouldn’t have sent away all the great huntsmen that we already had just because they weren’t born here. I know that even while we were building our own military we should have crawled on our hands and knees to get Atlas to stay instead of saying ‘good riddance’ as they flew home. I know that for everybody good idea someone is having about we keep Vale safe someone else is having a bad one. That’s why I needed to come up with a good idea, something to balance out a bad one that someone else is having. That’s why Vale needs you; you’re one of the best huntresses in the school and I think that if we act now then…maybe when you’re done things won’t look quite so scary and people will stop talking about sending kids out to fight.”

He had a point there, and a point that was pretty inarguable when Sunset thought about it. He was right that Professor Ozpin probably wouldn’t have wanted all of this, but if Atlas then why not Vale? Why shouldn’t they protect themselves?

And Cardin said that they were scared, and fear that would bring more grimm was what Professor Ozpin had most wanted to avoid. If she could help lessen that fear, if by working in the shadows she could make the sun seem brighter, then didn’t she have an obligation to do it?

She was a huntress. She might never graduate but that didn’t change the fact that she was, finally, a huntress in her heart. She wouldn’t make sacrifices, and included standing by while Vale sacrificed the seed-corn of the nation because they were panicking like headless chickens. She wouldn’t turn her back on those in need, which sounded like everybody right now.

She wouldn’t sit in a cell when she was being offered the chance to get out of it and do some good.

“I want Cinder,” she said. “You want me because you trust me, I want Cinder because I trust her. She’s the only person I can think of who I can trust.”

“Fine, I’m sure I can arrange that,” Cardin said. “So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I’ll fight for Vale, and for you.”

Although if I’d known that I was going to get out of here I might not have given the Maiden’s magic away.

Now...

There was an anti-air battery in the park, a four barrelled autocannon with boxy magazines and a complicated sighting mechanism half-dug into the lightly frosted ground; it was surrounded by a shallow layer of sandbags, and a couple of men wrapped up against the cold kept the children away.

Because there were still plenty of children here, in spite of the presence of the instrument of war in the middle of the public space; the snow had not quite melted here as it had on the streets Sunset had walked down to reach the café, and there was just enough left for a few shrieking children to be making snowballs to hurl at one another while their mothers watched with mingled happiness and anxiety. Other children kicked a football around, driving gorges through the snow as they forced the ball through the receding drifts; still more were playing a game that seemed to mostly involve chasing one another around while screaming very loudly. Despite the presence on the gun in the midst of it all the park all around the battery teemed with life and enjoyment: Sunset could see a man and a woman walking together, and the man was obviously very much in love with her else he wouldn’t have put up with the fact that the woman was paying far more attention to the overweight pug in her arms than she was to him; another woman was being pulled along by her greyhound as it raced through the snow deaf to her pleas to slow down just a little, please? If it wasn’t for the gun then you might never know that anything was amiss in Vale.

Maybe that was the point? Maybe that was the point of all of it, the pots and pans, the old men with their knives and broom handles, the army of volunteers, the army itself even; maybe it wasn’t going to stop the grimm but so long as it stopped people from panicking, so long as it made them feel same, then maybe the grimm wouldn’t come again anyway.

At the edge of the park somebody had parked a van selling coffee and crepes; Sunset knew that she shouldn’t eat after having had a cake with Professor Goodwitch, but it was cold out here and so she brought herself a coffee and clutched the cardboard cup tightly in both hands as she walked through the snow towards a park bench. It was lightly dusted with snow, but she used her tail like a brush to clear it away before she sat down to wait for Cardin.

The screaming of all the children, wrapped up in their winter coats and bobble hats (it was getting into early spring by now, but nobody had told the weather that) filled the air. She noticed one child standing a little on his own, away from the rest. It looked as though he was trying to get a kite up, but the wind wasn’t quite strong enough to lift it. It had left him looking absurdly dispirited.

Sunset wasn’t quite so old that she couldn’t remember the way that objectively small things couldn’t feel enormous when you were a kid, and she needed to get more practice in with her pegasus powers. They came less naturally to her than unicorn magic, but now that she had, it seemed, ascended when she wasn’t looking they were as much a part of her as her earth-pony-born increases in strength and stamina, so she might as well use them.

It took a little more concentration than calling on what she still thought of simply as magic, but fortunately she wasn’t trying to do very much: just create a gently breeze to blow across the park and lift that kite up into the air and set it fluttering there.

She still had to concentrate, especially since she didn’t just have a pair of wings she could beat to start this off. She had to imagine the wings, feel them as though they were there, draw them in her mind and make them real; she had to conjure the breeze within herself, not too strong and not too weak either, conjure it in tranquillity and send it forth into the world.

Sunset smiled as the little kid squealed for joy as his kite began to dance amongst the air currents.

She thought that the princesses would approve of such a little use of her new powers.

Which reminded her that she should tell Princess Celestia the news about Professor Ozpin; when Sunset had finally gotten her journal back and informed the princess of the professor’s death her old teacher had taken it surprisingly hard. Apparently it had only taken a single conversation for them to grow close, or feel as though they had. She would probably be glad to learn then, that he was alive in some form; although what she would think of the method of his immortality…Sunset wasn’t sure what she thought of it. She wasn’t sure that she quite understood it.

She almost hoped that she didn’t understand it, because it meant it could still be better than it sounded.

Else it isn’t just a curse for Professor Ozpin but for the kid as well.

Cardin, swathed in a dull and nondescript overcoat which hid his uniform – judging by his boots he wasn’t wearing his armour; Sunset found that she was getting more and more used to the uniform – sat down beside her. He was holding a coffee in one hand and a disposable polythene plate with a chocolate-hazelnut and banana crepe on it in the other.

“Oh my goodness, is that the Cardin Winchester?” Sunset declared in mock surprise. “I think I might faint.”

“Shut up,” Cardin muttered, sipping his steaming coffee. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“This,” Cardin said. “Everyone just doing their thing as though that gun wasn’t even there.”

“You and me, Cardin,” Sunset said. “We’re making all of Vale feel safe.”

Cardin snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“We’re making a difference, aren’t we?” Sunset said. “Or else what’s the point.”

Cardin glanced at her. He nodded. “Yeah, we’re making a difference.”

“Thank Celestia for that, or this would be depressing,” Sunset said, as she plucked one of the slices of banana off Cardin’s crepe and popped it in her mouth.

“Hey!”

“Serves you right for having your breakfast in front of me,” Sunset said. She paused. “How long are the banana supplies going to hold up if we don’t resume trade with Menagerie soon?”

Cardin blinked. “You know…I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Has anybody thought of that?”

“They’ve probably thought that keeping White Fang infiltrators out is more important than whether we have bananas.”

“Say that when all of the exotic fruit is gone and there are riots in the streets,” Sunset said. “So how as Alexandria?”

“I arrested the commandant, thanks to you and the proof you provided.”

“Glad I could help, but not what I asked,” Sunset said. “How was Alexandria? You must have had a little time to see the sights.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I didn’t so I’d like to hear it from you,” Sunset said. “They say the library there is one of the biggest in all of Remnant; maybe the biggest.”

“Did you read that in a guidebook?”

“…yes,” Sunset said.

“I didn’t go to any libraries,” Cardin said. He shifted slightly uncomfortably in his seat. “They gave me a tour of Pharos,” he said; he ate some of his crepe before Sunset could steal any more of it.

“The Combat School?”

Cardin, his mouth full, nodded.

“What’s that like?”

“Full of eager kids,” Cardin said. “I think you would have liked the tower. If they can’t rebuild Beacon tower then I think Pharos would work as our connection to the CCT network.”

“Does anyone want to rebuild the CCT network?”

Cardin didn’t answer. “Those kids…the way that they looked at me. The headmaster introduced me as a hero and…we were never wide-eyed, right? We never thought that we were just going to show up and all the grimm were going to fall down dead and we’d right our names in the history pages.”

“No, that’s definitely what we thought,” Sunset said. “I’m not sure if it isn’t something that you have grow out of on your own; people can tell you its wrong but you need to go through some things to actually believe them.” She fell silent for a moment. “You didn’t answer my question about the CCT.”

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Cardin said. “I don’t think there’s an opinion one way or the other; just people fighting about it.” He ate some more crepe. “I also got to go down to the docks and see the new ships they’re building, the Beacon, the Signal, and the Pharos. There’s not much to them but the start of skeletons, but they’re working on it and that…that was good to see.”

Sunset nodded. “So…things are going pretty well in Vale then?”

Cardin shrugged. “Everyone is pitching in, that’s good.”

“But?”

Cardin snorted. “I don’t know why I tell you all of this stuff.”

“Because who else are you going to tell? Come on, a little gossip from around the family table is the least you owe me.”

“I let you out of prison and got you off a death sentence, I don’t owe you squat!”

“I suppose not, if you want to be technical about it,” Sunset muttered. “But is it so strange that I want to know that it isn’t just you and me and Cinder keeping Vale safe?”

“Vale is safe,” Cardin said. “It’s safer than it was.” He paused. “It’s also going broke.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“Raising an army, building a fleet, finishing the outer defences, installing anti-air defences, apparently all of this stuff costs money,” Cardin said.

“Is that why the Home Guard don’t have guns?”

“No, that’s because we don’t have enough guns to give them,” Cardin said. “They’re finding stocks of old rifles from the Great War, bolt action stuff, but they’re all being used for the army; we ran out of modern rifles more than a month ago.”

“Are you…how?”

Cardin finished his coffee. “Did you know that Vale has a thriving weapons industry?”

“It doesn’t surprise me.”

“There’s a whole district called the Gunsmith’s Quarter,” Cardin went on.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I, although I probably should have cause the guy who made my Executioner works out of there,” Cardin said. “But that’s the problem: it’s all custom work for huntsmen or private use. There isn’t a single place in the whole of Vale that can gear up for the mass production of weapons that we need. Atlas has that capacity, even Mistral has some of it, but not us.”

“The police? The National Guard?”

“Imported.”

Sunset thought about it for a moment. “What about Merlot’s Island?”

“Who?”

“Right, you weren’t there,” Sunset said. She wondered how to begin. “Okay, long story very short: summer break, we went on a mission and ended up following a chain of clues that led to a secret island base run by a mad scientist and I know this sounds like a James Blond movie but I swear this happened, anyway, he had an island base and a big part of the base was this factory where he was making advanced androids, better than anything the SDC or the Atlesian military is producing right now, and he was arming those robots with some pretty powerful guns. I don’t know how many his facility was designed to produce but…it has to be better than nothing, right?”

Cardin looked at her. “And this facility is still there? It works?”

“It wasn’t destroyed.”

“And you’re only bringing it up now?”

“I didn’t know you had this problem until now,” Sunset said. “Besides, you’ve got access to the mission reports, right? You could have found this out yourself.”

“Why would I?” Cardin replied. “Do you know where this island is?”

“The coordinates will be-“

“In your report, got it,” Cardin said. “I’ll have it checked out.” He nodded briskly. “Thanks, if this pans out it could be the life saver we need.”

“Glad I could help,” Sunset said. “Just remember that I did help when I ask you for a favour.”

Cardin shook his head. “Go on.”

“I need to go to Patch,” Sunset said. “I need to talk to Ruby.”

Cardin’s jaw tightened. “Is this something to do with the talk you had with Professor Goodwitch?”

“You still call her that too, huh?”

“It wouldn’t feel right not too,” Cardin said.

Sunset hesitated. She watched the breath steam up in front of her face. “She asked me to do something for her; I can’t do it so I need to ask Ruby to do it instead.”

“What kind of a favour?”

“She…she wanted me to go to Anima.”

Cardin spluttered. “You’re right, you really can’t do that. I couldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to; or even if I wanted to. What’s in Anima for you?”

“I can’t tell you,” Sunset said.

“But you still expect me to let you go to Patch and talk to Ruby?”

“Don’t be a jerk, it’s not as though I’m asking you to let me go to Mistral,” Sunset said. “I’m talking about two days, one there and one back. Two days, I’m sure you and Vale can survive without me for that long.”

“And what about your team?”

Sunset shifted uncomfortably. “Cinder can hold them together for that long,” she said. I hope.

Cardin hesitated for a moment. “Talking to Ruby…it might not be such a bad idea. Ruby going to Mistral might not be such a bad idea.”

Sunset frowned. “Why?”

“The Committee wants her,” Cardin said. “They want her badly; she was the best Vale-born huntress at Beacon and she…she’d be a greater symbol of hope than me or Coco or anybody else they stick up on posters. She’s not answering their letters. My father said that if she doesn’t answer they’re going to ask me to talk to her…if she won’t come then it might be best if she left the country before-“

“Before what?” Sunset demanded. “Before someone tries to drag her back here by force?”

“It won’t be that…it won’t be like that,” Cardin said. “But there’s pressure that can be put on her and her father: stop the old man’s stipend, threaten to repossess their house, that kind of thing. It isn’t something that I want to see happen.”

Sunset growled wordlessly. Ruby had lost her sister, for crying out loud, couldn’t they have pity on her? Couldn’t they have some empathy for what she’d been through? Where they that desperate? Yes, obviously, as so much so aptly demonstrated. “If that’s the bad idea then what’s the good one to balance it out?”

“They’re forming a second squad, since the first one worked out so well,” Cardin said.

It took Sunset a moment to work out what he meant. “A second squad of prisoners?”

“They’re capable, and nobody will miss them,” Cardin said.

“Maybe, but can they be trusted?” Sunset said. “How many other people like me do you have lying around to lead these teams?”

“Team Bluebell,” Cardin said.

“Team Bluebell?” Sunset repeated. “They…” she stopped, because the fact that Lyra, Bon Bon and Sky had betrayed Beacon and Professor was not entirely their fault. In light of what she had learned about Amber’s semblance it seemed likely that she had used it to gain their affection and their loyalty. That didn’t make it incredibly easy for Sunset to forgive them, however; Amber’s influence or not their actions had still contributed to Professor Ozpin’s death (and the fact that he wasn’t quite dead didn’t make it easy to forgive them either); not to mention the fact that, even if Sunset could see that they might be somewhat trustworthy, they just weren’t that good. “Is it really worth it? For Team Bluebell?”

“They want to make amends for what they did,” Cardin said. “And they have more training than a lot of the people who we’re asking to help keep Vale safe.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Sunset said. “Anybody else?”

“Your old pal Roman Torchwick.”

“I didn’t even know he’d be arrested.”

“It was kept hushed up.”

“To make it easier to recruit him for this?”

Cardin nodded. “I’m keeping that girl of his under supervision in case he gets any ideas.”

Sunset shook his head. “Even so, you’ve got a tiger by the tail with him.”

“Team Bluebell will be able to handle him.”

“You’ve got more faith in them than I do.”

“He’s just one guy,” Cardin said.

“And they’re…them,” Sunset said. “Do you really think that squad is going to do any good?”

“I think we need the bodies and you could use the backup,” Cardin said. “Now that the force has grown I can assign you more dangerous missions.”

“Oh, great,” Sunset said. “So do I get to go to Patch before you throw me back into the fire?”

Cardin pulled out his scroll, and opened up what looked like a variant on the mission board. He used his forefinger to scroll through the list of available missions. “Hmm, maybe there is something that you can do on Patch.”

“Trouble?” Sunset said, leaning closer to him.

“Looks that way,” Cardin said. “A village called Threadneedle has been reporting grimm attacks on the outlying farms; they don’t have a garrison, they’re requesting a search and destroy.”

“Will anyone find it odd that someone like you is taking a job like that?”

“I go where you’re needed,” Cardin said. “It’s all Vale and it all needs defending. Head out there, clean up, save the village. Once the mission is complete then…I’ll lose you for a couple of days and you can go and see Ruby, talk about whatever secret stuff you two have going on.”

Sunset let out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. “Thank you,” she said softly. “You’re a good man, Cardin Winchester.”

“No I’m not,” Cardin said. “We’re neither of us good people, Sunset; we just do the best we can anyway.”

Threadneedle

Threadneedle

The Sheriff of Threadneedle was an old man, with silver hair that was receding backwards across his pate and a luxuriant moustache that drooped down on either side of his mouth like the tails of some kind of rodent. His face was lined with years, and as he made his way through the rural operations centre Cardin guessed that he had held this job for many years, long before all the recent changes that had overtaken Vale.

He coughed into one hand to announce himself as he approached. “Captain Cardin Winchester, sir, Corps of Specialists.” He was wearing his uniform coat over his armour, little changed from when he had been a student except that there was now more of it, covering the areas that he had previously left unprotected: a plackart to cover his belly and more comprehensive cuisses to protect his legs. In a display of patriotism he had replaced the red sash he had worn previously around his waist with one that was green for Vale; he didn’t think it looked as good but it was important to show the right attitude in times like these.

He held out his hand to the Sheriff as he approached.

The Sheriff took a moment to put his broad-brimmed hat on his head before he got up from his desk – an untidy desk, covered with paperwork of various sorts – and held out his hand to shake Cardin’s. His grip was not the strongest, but not unsteady either. “Sheriff Butternut, darn glad to meet you, captain. Huh, Spring and Summer, it only seems yesterday when I’d have laughed you clean out of town if you told me that Vale would have its own army and a corps of specialist and all of this Atlas stuff. Yet here we are.”

“A lot’s happened in a short space of time,” Cardin said.

“You can say that again,” Sheriff Butternut agreed. He shook his head. “Sometimes it feels like the whole world’s gone nuts; other times it feels like it’s just falling apart. Anyway, what can I do for you, Captain Winchester?”

He didn’t seem to recognise Cardin’s name, which was – as far as Cardin was concerned – all to the good; he was starting to realise why people like Weiss and Pyrrha liked to go anonymous, or at least unremarked upon by people who knew them; that went double in his case since so many of his supposed achievements were, not to put too fine a point on it, made up. It would be refreshing to be judged on his merits in a place like this, a place which – judging by his walk through town after having dropped off Sunset’s team outside – didn’t get a lot of visitors.

“Actually, Sheriff, it’s how I can help you,” Cardin said. “I hear you’ve been having problems with the grimm.”

“Oh, that we have, Spring, Summer and Fall that we have,” Sheriff Butternut said. He began to walk away from his desk, leading Cardin back across the largely deserted operations centre – there was a middle-aged man in a cheap suit doing some filing on the other side of the office, but no one else present that Cardin could see – to a board with a map of the local area pinned to it. It was small scale, showing the village in sufficient detail that each house was individually rendered and the bars, the doctor’s office, the diner and the church Cardin had passed on the way down main street were all clearly marked out, but it also extended sufficiently around the town to show a ring of farms surrounding it, several of which had been marked by red Xs.

“It’s like they’re working their way around the north end of town,” Sheriff Butternut said, drawing Cardin’s attention to the fact that the red Xs started to the east and worked their way in upwards and to the west. “First they hit the Farley place, then the Brandy farm, then the Colton’s, then the Li family up here.”

“Any survivors?” Cardin asked.

Sheriff Butternut’s face tightened with pain. “Little Molly Farley ran all the way into town shrieking about monsters; that was the first we knew about all this, but by the time we got there…Mister Winchester, I’ve been doing this job for more years than I’d care to tell, and in that time I’ve seen a few things. Ten winters ago we had famished wolves come down out of the high country and that was bad, but I ain’t seen nothing like what I saw when we got to the Farley place. It’s a miracle that Li’l Molly was able to get away.”

“You don’t have a lot of trouble with grimm out here, Sheriff?” Cardin asked.

“No,” he admitted. “I know they’re out there, and I know that you don’t go hiking through the woods unless you want to meet one of them, but we don’t get much trouble from them around here. I guess we’ve just been lucky until now.”

Cardin nodded. Such situations were not impossible, especially in places like Patch which had a reputation for a pleasant, if slow, pace of living. In a nice town, where emotions didn’t run high and there wasn’t much to be afraid of, it was possible to avoid drawing grimm in with negativity, in which case the only thing to worry about was that some of them would just stumble across you. Sometimes that happened and sometimes it didn’t. Some places just got lucky, although Cardin couldn’t help but wonder if a huntsman had been protecting them up until this point, one who was either dead now or who had gone back to Vale due to the emergency there. It wasn’t likely that he would find out. “Any other survivors,” he asked. “Besides the little girl?”

Sheriff Butternut nodded. “We found Jen Brandy hiding in the cellar; she said her pa had told her to get down there and locked the door when they heard the creatures coming. Maple Colton got away too, we found her in the woods about a mile away from the property, scared to death. Cheng Li was the same: he ran away hid in the trees, they didn’t find him.”

It’s amazing that they didn’t, what with the amount of fear he must have been giving off, Cardin thought. “One survivor from every farm.”

“Right,” Sheriff Butternut said. “It might only be the one, but it’s something worth thanking Summer for in my book.”

“You a religious man, Sheriff?” Cardin asked. Religion was starting to make a comeback in Vale as people started to look for something to explain what had happened – or a way to stop it from happening again – but he would have thought the sheriff was too old to get swept up in that kind of thing, still less to have started talking like he’d been a religious man all his life. Unless he had been.

The sheriff nodded. “This is a farming town, Mister Winchester; we pray to Spring for lambs, Summer for sunshine and Fall for a good harvest; it might be old-fashioned but it’s worked out pretty well for us so far.”

“What do you pray to winter for?” Cardin asked.

“To go away fast and not come back for a while,” Sheriff Butternut said. “Nobody prays to winter, we curse and bear it.”

“I see,” Cardin muttered. “So, all the survivors are in town now? How are they doing?”

“Shocked,” Sheriff Butternut said. “Molly Farley hasn’t said a word since we told her that Ma and Pa were gone, and Jen Brandy wakes up the whole street with her nightmares.

“After the Brandy Farm got hit I advised everybody to come on into town where it was safer; after the Li place I sent out the new soldiers I had to recruit on the council’s orders to flat out order everybody into town on account of the danger.”

“Is that where everybody is right now?” Cardin asked.

“It’s where they should be,” Sheriff Butternut said. “I haven’t heard back from the group I sent out to the Huang place.” He pointed to the next farm along from the destroyed Li property. “I thought it might be dangerous so I sent six boys down there, more than I sent anywhere else; I still haven’t heard back from them.”

“In how long?” Cardin asked.

“All day, they left in the morning.”

“Okay,” Cardin said. “I already have a team out there, I’ll tell them to keep an eye out for any sign of your people.”

“You really think that you can take care of this for us?” Sheriff Butternut asked. “This town…we’ve got a palisade and we keep the ditch dug to a decent depth, but if those monsters show up-“

“I understand,” Cardin said. “But my team…they’re some of the best around. They’ll keep this place safe, I guarantee it.”

“Who would seriously want to live in a place like this?” Sami said, as the team trudged through what had been an orchard; it was an orchard, although it was hard to tell from a casual glance since the leaves had not yet returned to the trees and there was still a dusting of snow upon the ground that stubbornly refused to yield to the advancing spring. Nevertheless, there had been a picture of a plum on the sign declaring that this was the Li estate and – combined with the fact that there were a lot of trees and no sign of any fields ready for the plough – Sunset felt it was reasonably likely that this was a plum orchard, and that the farm had produced fruit rather than crops.

“It looks bad because the trees are dead,” Jack told her. “When the trees are in flower and the plums are growing-“

“Then we could eat them, seeing as nobody else will and I’m getting a little hungry,” Sami said. “But I still wouldn’t want to live in a place like this.”

They were moving in single file, with Sunset in the lead and Cinder bringing up the rear, having left the ruins of the Li house behind them as they followed what Sunset though might be tracks through the orchard to the west. She was no great woodsman, nor would she ever claim to be, but the snow – shallow though it was in places – looked to have been here for a while without being disturbed and so she thought that all the depressions in said snow were probably worth checking out. What was most interesting was that, amidst all the paw prints that suggested beowolves or ursai or both, there was something here that looked like hoof prints.

Very big hoof prints. Could it be another karkadann, like she and Cinder had faced in Mistral (although whether Cinder had faced something that Sunset was reasonably sure – she hadn’t actually asked – that she had arranged was an open question)? Perhaps, and this time it had help.

“I had a farm, once,” Jack said. “Or at least, my mother did. We had a cow.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t your mother?” Sami asked.

“Hey, watch your mouth!” Jack snapped. “That’s my mama you’re talking about. How would you like it if I started trash-talking your mom, huh?”

“My mom was a thief and a thug and the day she died was the best day of my life,” Sami said. “You can say whatever you like about her, I guarantee it won’t be as bad as she was.”

Jack stopped, turning in the snow to look at her. “You’re one messed up chick, you know that?”

Sami grinned. “All part of my charm.” She jumped a couple of feet through the snow. “Okay, farm boy, if having a farm and a cow was so good then why did you decide to start robbing people with that?”

Jack turned away and resumed following Sunset. “On account of some rich dirtbag stole our land out from under us, left us homeless so that he could make his fields a little bit bigger. That was my mama’s land, my land, and he just took it away from us with lawyers and big words and bits of paper. Well, I never knew any big words, and I didn’t have any bits of paper and I couldn’t afford no lawyers…but I had a gun, and so I thought that maybe I could make the rich pay for what they did with it.” He fell silent for a moment. “If we still had our land, I probably would have never done wrong. I would have stayed at home, been a good boy, caused no trouble to nobody.”

“Yeah? And you would have been boring,” Sami said.

“I would have been free,” Jack replied.

“Free and boring.”

“Better to be boring than in a cage,” Emerald said. “And even though it’s probably a lot of work, I’d say better to live in a place like this than to be living without a roof over your head, never knowing where your next meal is coming from. Right, Cinder?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “It’s a life,” she said. “But not for everyone.”

“Better than this one,” Jack said.

“So is that what you’re going to do, when we’re done here?” Sunset asked, tearing her eyes away from the grimm tracks to look over her shoulder at him. She hadn’t asked them that before, and she kind of wished that she had now because this was a better side to Jack than any that she’d experienced yet. It was a pity that he couldn’t be like this more often. “You’re going to get a patch of land to call your own?”

“How?” Jack asked sourly. “The government took all my money away from me.”

“The money that you stole from other people, sure,” Sunset said.

“Everyone steals from someone else,” Jack said. “Only when the rich do it they call it fancy things that make it alright. And it’s not like you’ll let me make any money while we’re here.”

“I’m not going to let you rob corpses if that’s what you mean,” Sunset muttered. She turned away, shaking her head. The terms of their agreements stated that, if they survived, they would be released ‘at such a time as the Council judges that the safety of the kingdom shall be secured and the crimes of the prisoner expunged through their good service’ which was open ended, sure, but better than the life imprisonment that was the best that any of them could have looked forward to otherwise. But, while Sunset wasn’t sure what she would do if she ever got released – go to Mistral, maybe – she was more worried that if Jack or Sami ever got out they would just go right back to the things that they’d gotten locked up for in the first place.

However, against that risk was set the fact that Cardin wasn’t a complete idiot. He wasn’t about to let them go only to wreak more havoc upon the Kingdom of Vale; if he didn’t trust them to behave themselves he’d never set them free.

“Sure, I’d like some land,” Jack said. “A house, some woods with a stream flowing through them; maybe a vineyard; I could grow everything I needed and wouldn’t need to bother nobody.”

“Until your crops failed, and your animals died, and it would seem very tempting to just take what you needed from someone weaker than you,” Sami said.

“Is that your plan, if you ever get free?” Cinder asked. “To resume your previous career where you left off?”

Sami said nothing, although her face said a great deal. “So what about you, boss?” she said, calling out to Sunset. “What are you going to do when your service ends?”

“They’ll always be another fight,” Sunset said. “Whether they’re making me fight it or just asking.”

“You’re such a teacher’s pet,” Sami said. “No wonder they put you in charge.”

Before Sunset could reply she was interrupted by a call on her scroll.

“And I guess that’s the teacher now,” Sami said.

Sunset ignored her, holding up one hand to halt the others while she pulled out her scroll and opened it up. It was indeed Cardin, because who else would be calling her?

“Sunset,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Passing out of the Li land,” Sunset said. “The place was a wreck but we might have found some tracks.”

“Okay,” Cardin said. “Keep an eye out for any survivors. One person has survived every grimm attack around here so far.”

“That’s a coincidence,” Sunset said.

“I’m not so sure it is,” Cardin replied. “The first survivor was a little girl, there’s no way that she could have outrun a creature of grimm, and as for the others…how do terrified people with no training manage to hide in cellars or in nearby forests in the dark and not be found?”

Sunset frowned. “What are you suggesting? That the grimm are leaving one survivor at every location on purpose? Grimm aren’t that smart?”

“Aren’t they?” Cardin replied. “I looked into those Merlot files you suggested, and in Jaune’s home town the grimm-“

“Injured his sister but left her alive to draw other rescuers whom it could ambush, I know, they told me,” Sunset said. “But that was one of Merlot’s experiments, it was different than other grimm.”

“You said yourself that the facility was still there,” Cardin said. “Could someone have beaten us to it and restarted the experiments?”

“I hope not, it was bad enough the first time,” Sunset muttered. Then I had Ruby, Pyrrha and Jaune as well as Cinder; how am I supposed to repeat the trick with these guys?

“I’m just speculating, I know,” Cardin said. “But I think there’s something going on here, I just can’t work out what it is yet.” He frowned. “Is there any chance that it isn’t grimm?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well…doesn’t this kind of stuff sound more like bandits to you?” Cardin asked. “And I know that the little girl who ran into town was babbling about monsters but in the dark, fire and smoke and gunshots…people could seem like monsters to a kid.”

“I know what you mean, but the tracks we’ve found at the Li place seem to disagree,” Sunset said.

“Right,” Cardin said, sounding a little disappointed. “Keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll see if I can talk to any of the survivors, and if that doesn’t pan out I might come out and join you. Just be aware, the sheriff sent out a party of six soldiers to the Cheng farm to tell the family to evacuate into town; they haven’t reported in, so keep your eyes open for them.”

“I will,” Sunset said. “I’ll keep you posted if we find anything.”

“Right,” Cardin said. “Good luck out there.”

Sunset folded up her scroll. “Cinder, come up here a minute,” she crouched down, and waited for Cinder to make her way up from the rear of the column.

“Yes?” Cinder asked, as she crouched down beside Sunset. She had exchanged her old red dress for something sleeveless, with a high neckline and a long black gloves – trimmed with gold – covering her arms. It was, of course, still red, and still gold-trimmed beside, but this new gown was so long that Sunset couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t been better off before the change.

“Do you know of any grimm smart enough to leave survivors, and why?” Sunset asked.

Cinder smirked. “I love how you think of me as some kind of repository of grimm lore.”

“Well, you did work with them.”

“I served Salem, I didn’t memorise a grimm bestiary,” Cinder said. “I made use of the grimm as servants, and instruments in my plan, but I never bothered to get to know them beyond the common types. I certainly don’t know all the rare variants.” She paused. “Although I will say that I have never heard of any grimm that wouldn’t kill when it had the chance, unless it was being restrained by some…external force.”

Sunset frowned. “You mean-“

“Yes,” Cinder said. “Someone like me.”

Sunset cursed under her breath. “But…there aren’t any human tracks.”

“If I’m wrong then that’s a good thing,” Cinder said. “You couldn’t take someone like me with this team.” She snorted. “Not since you-“

“Don’t,” Sunset said. “Please, just don’t. Not right now, anyway.”

Cinder’s lips twitched upwards. “Okay, I’ll save that for later. So what’s the plan, fearless leader?”

“I never claimed to be fearless,” Sunset said, getting to her feet. “I just don’t have a lot left to loose. We keep following the trail, and whatever is waiting for us…we’ll deal with it.”

“No matter what it is?” Cinder asked.

“No matter what it is we’re better equipped to deal with it then the folks living around here, I’m sure,” Sunset said.

“That wouldn’t be difficult,” Cinder said.

“No,” Sunset agreed. “But that just makes it all the more true.”

So they continued to follow the trail left by the grimm through the snow, as they crossed out of the Li land and onto the land – marked by a boundary hedgerow that was leafless and resembled frosted-over brambles in its dormant state, and which something had bulled its way through, leaving an enormous gap through which the warriors could easily follow – owned by the Cheng family, which judging by the fact that it was yet more trees in neatly planted rows Sunset took to be another farm of fruit orchards of some kind. They followed the trail left by the grimm, Sunset had given up on trying to gauge just how many of them there were since it was possible that they could be hiding their numbers by moving in a column, stepping into one another’s footsteps (she wasn’t sure if grimm were smart enough for that, but if they were smart enough to leave survivors as part of a nefarious scheme then surely they were also smart enough to mask their strength). They followed the trail until they came to the Cheng farm.

What was left of it, anyway. A truck was parked outside the farmhouse, with the back opened up and half-full with bags and cases, suggesting that the Chengs had been about to flee when the grimm had descended upon them; the prints descended upon the ruins that remained of the spacious farmhouse in a horde, the tight group in which they had moved collapsing into a mob that had moved out, breaking up to surround the house and its occupants and attack from all sides.

Bodies littered the ground, their blood staining the snow; the small bodies of the Cheng children, the larger bodies of the adult Chengs and a couple of young men and a young woman in casual clothes whom Sunset thought might have been farmhands or other labourers, and the bodies of the local patrol in their blue valish uniforms. Sunset stood, frozen in place, her breath gently misting up as she stared at the dead bodies; one of the farmhands had an axe in his hand and it looked as though he’d been trying to protect one of the children, unfortunately for all Professor Port’s stories it wasn’t that easy for an ordinary guy with nothing but courage going for him to stand against the nightmares; the sergeant had collapsed against the side of the truck, his expression more startled than afraid; the little boy looked as though he had been trying to run away.

“Search for survivors,” Sunset said.

“What survivors?” Sami asked.

“At every farm one survivor has been left behind,” Sunset snapped. “Find them! Spread out!”

Jack, Sami and Emerald hastened to obey her, while Cinder lingered, staying close by Sunset’s side. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I’m a huntress, I’m supposed to stop stuff like this from happening,” Sunset said. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t and would never be a real huntress, but she had committed herself to living and fighting as though she was so to arrive too late, to arrive only to find this…if only…she should have been faster.

“You weren’t here.”

“Maybe I should have been.”

“You can’t be everywhere.”

“I did this,” Sunset snapped, gesturing at the death and devastation, the dead bodies surrounding the ruined farmhouse. “We did this, you and me, together! Everything that has happened to this kingdom has been because of the choices that you and I made, the selfish choices to put ourselves and one another and our own desires above everyone else. We did this. Doesn’t that…please tell me that you feel some remorse about it.” Sunset stared into Cinder’s eyes, searching for sorrow, imploring her to demonstrate some of the grief that she, Sunset, considered appropriate as they came across yet another consequence of their shared actions.

Cinder closed her eyes. “The survivor, the lone survivor at every farm…who was it?”

Sunset frowned. “A child,” she said. “Or a young person at least, by the sounds of it.”

Cinder sighed. “Then it is them that I pity most. And if there is a child left alive here then it is them that I will feel the most sorry for.”

Sunset blinked. “For the living, not the dead?”

“You don’t know what it is to live without those you love,” Cinder declared harshly. “To have the arms that hold you suddenly ripped away to leave you cold and all alone. I know what that’s like, I know what awaits those children. I pity them because I know what lies in store for them, I know what they will become; better that they should be together in…whatever awaits us, if anything does. That is why I pity the living, not the dead.”

Sunset frowned. “I…what happened to you was…while there is life then there is the chance at love, I just…we did this, Cinder, you and I. We changed the world together and…we broke it.”

“I always meant to, and worse than it did,” Cinder murmured.

“Did you intend all of this?”

“I…I can’t remember if I didn’t consider it or I just didn’t care,” Cinder said. “Probably a combination of the two.”

“And now?”

“Now? Now…now I wonder why I thought the empty baubles that I coveted so much were worth it all. Why I thought they would fill up this…emptiness inside.”

“Cinder! Sunset!” Emerald called. “Over here!”

They both ran towards the sound of her voice, and swiftly saw why: she had found the sole survivor, not a child this time but a soldier, albeit a young soldier. He was up a tree, cowering in the branches, his face pale with a mixture of fright and cold, his weapon discarded on the ground amongst the tree roots. His eyes were vacant, and his lips were moving although Sunset couldn’t hear any sound.

“Hey there,” Sunset called up to him as the five of them gathered around his tree. “It’s okay. You can come down now, we’re friends.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t look as though he had even heard her, let alone comprehended her words.

Sunset cupped her hands around her mouth and used a little touch of magic to amplify her voice. “Hello up there! The grimm are gone, you can come down now.”

There was still not intelligible response from the soldier up the tree. Sunset frowned. “Jack, get him down.”

Jack huffed, as though being asked to do something was an imposition for him, and slung his shotgun-axe over his shoulder as he rubbed his hands together. He pressed them together, palm against palm, as the gap between them began to glow with a faint green light. The earth cracked, the soil and frost bulging upwards for a moment before falling away as a thick vine, like a cable, rose up out of the ground and wound its way slowly up the tree like some kind of giant blind snake. The green stalk rose, seeming to probe the air as it rose, until it reached the insensible soldier up the tree, at which point it wound its way around his waist, plucked him out of the tree, and then bore him slowly to the ground.

Sunset caught him as Jack’s vine released him. She checked his collar, a lot of Valish soldiers had sewn their names onto their collars like they were back at school in case they didn’t make it. “Richard Burroughs,” she read out the name tag, which was exactly the kind of tag that mothers used to sew onto the possessions of their little colts and fillies at magic school, the exact kind. “Richard,” she said. “It’s okay now. You’re okay. My name is Sunset Shimmer, and I’m here to help you. Is there anything that you can tell me about what happened here?”

“A bunch of grimm showed up and ate everyone,” Sami said.

Sunset glared at her.

“Ruby,” Richard Burroughs murmured. “Rose.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “What? What did you say?”

“Ruby…Rose,” Richard repeated.

“How?” Sunset demanded. “Where did you learn that name, what do you mean? What does Ruby have to do with any of this?”

“Ruby…Rose.”

“You’re not going to get anything out of him,” Cinder said. “It’s strange, but he isn’t going to explain it.”

“I suppose not,” Sunset murmured. “Okay. Let’s get him back to town, get him the help he needs. Then, maybe, hopefully, we can start to figure this out.”

As you might be able to tell, Princess Celestia, there’s a lot going on right now. My head is spinning from what I’ve learned about Professor Ozpin. Although I’d hate for you to think that I wasn’t grateful to find out that he was alive, because I am. When I thought that he was dead

Sunset paused, the pen hovering over the page of the journal. Writing to Celestia was both a balm to her spirit and a way for her to put her thoughts in order for her own benefit, but when it came to this, to how she felt about Professor Ozpin’s death and resurrection…it was still difficult for her to clear it up enough in her own head to set it down on paper.

I’m glad that he’s still here, in some form.

I am glad to hear that you think so. I know you valued him more than you fear he knew, although for my part I think your fears may turn out to be groundless. Speaking as your teacher, I flattered myself that I always knew how you felt even when you struggled to express it.

When I was being an obnoxious, ungrateful brat, you mean? Please don’t answer that.

For myself I pity him, and his new host besides if I understand what you have told me rightly.

I’m not sure that I understand it right myself.

The gods are cruel; immortality locked in struggle with a monster who cannot be defeated should have been curse enough – and would have been, for such a man as Professor Ozpin – without inflicting a second curse upon a succession of innocents in all of this.

Sunset frowned. Is that how you see your life, Princess Celestia? As a curse?

A curse? Oh, little sunbeam, my life is not a curse. My life has been a hundred hundred blessings following hard on one another’s heels, and my only selfish regret has been that each blessing has been far, far too briefly ephemeral for my liking. But for Professor Ozpin

Princess Celestia stopped writing for a moment. Sunset waited, looking down at the book, willing her teacher to continue.

I have a confession to make, Sunset. I knew that Professor Ozpin was immortal long before you did.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. You did? You only wrote to him once.

And that turned out to be sufficient. He had in him that which I recognised from long acquaintance in myself. She did not elaborate on what that might be, and Sunset was not sure if it was her place to enquire.

You didn’t say anything about this to me.

It was not my place to reveal Professor Ozpin’s truth without his permission. I trusted that he had his reasons for keeping it from you. And then, when you told me that he had perished I believed you; not knowing the nature of his terrible curse I thought that, his body being destroyed, he had in fact died as I would die if my physical form were to be consumed thus by magic.

Sunset shivered. Please don’t say things like that, Princess. I don’t even want to imagine it. She sucked on the end of her pen for a moment. Sunset: Do you think that it was the nature of his reincarnation that cause him to keep it a secret?

Perhaps, although I think that perhaps Professor Ozpin would have kept a more conventional immortality a secret also.

But why? I can see why he would keep it from the world – although I have to admit that if he does want to keep it a secret then the kind of immortality that he has is a little more useful than yours. Can you imagine what you’d have to do pretend to be other people if you were living out a natural life?

I suppose I would have to continuously use magic to disguise my appearance, wearing a new form in public every day, seeming to age it before the eyes of my little ponies until I ‘died’ and was ‘reborn’ as another pony with another name. I can see it easily becoming rather tiresome.

I don’t see why he’d want to put the effort in. I mean, clearly he can’t help the curse that was laid upon him but why be so secretive about it. If he is and has always been the Old Man, going back through all the legends, if he has always led the circle that has been opposed to Salem, then he must have been pulling strings for thousands of years or more to help mankind fight against the creatures of grimm. Why would he seek to rule from the shadows where you rule in the light? I didn’t trust Professor Ozpin at first because, okay there were a lot of reasons why I didn’t trust him but one of them was that, compared to you and your wisdom acquired over the centuries, trusting a mere mortal man to order and direct our lives seemed so difficult; he couldn’t possibly have the experience necessary, the good judgement. If I had known then what I know now I might have thought better of him sooner. And I know that you’ll probably say that that was my problem, not his, and you’d be right but my main point is why all the secrecy? He could have been you, to all intents and purposes, an immortal ruler albeit a reincarnating one, ruling with the four Maidens ranged around him, all things done in the sight of men whom he could array to the best advantage of his endeavours. Instead he skulked in Beacon Tower, hiding the Maidens, keeping his wisdom hidden under a bushel, admitting only his closest confidantes to the secret. Why?

The answer seems perfectly clear to me: he did not want to rule.

Okay, but why not?

That I cannot answer so easily. I fear only Ozpin himself can give you that information.

If I ever see him, Sunset thought. And that still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t tell us when he told us all of his other secrets, when we entered into his service. Did he fear so greatly how we would react to the truth about his immortality?

I think that Ozpin fears to grow too close to any of those who serve him. If you thought him aloof, or cold, then it was not because it was in his nature to be so but because he wished that it were. When I said that immortality was curse enough for Ozpin it is because he makes it so himself by fearing to care too much for those around him, knowing that he must outlive them all. I fear he has forgotten that, while it may seem a curse to outlive all our comrades, students and our friends, to know and love them in the brief-seeming moment allowed is the great blessing that makes our long lives bearable. As I told him: we are never truly alone, and though sometimes care can lead us to mistakes, without it we would make far more grievous errors.

I’m not sure how the errors that I made from care could have been made worse if I hadn’t cared.

I hope that you don’t mean that.

Sunset shook her head. I do and I don’t. I don’t regret caring about my friends, but I sometimes wonder if all the things I did to help them didn’t just end up making things worse.

No one can know what would have been, not even the wisest of us. That being so, one must accept what one has done and move forward from it. So how will you move forward, Sunset Shimmer; what will you do now that you know the truth?

[u]Nothing, if Ruby will go to Anima in my stead. If she will not then

It was Sunset’s turn to pause once more, struggling to know what were best to say next, what she ought to say next, what she could possibly say next.

Professor Goodwitch has laid it on me to go to Anima and find Professor Ozpin, and my heart desires to do it, but I have made promises and pledges to Vale and to Cardin, how can I turn my back on that?

I must confess, I would very much like to speak with Ozpin again; he has a courteous manner and a gentle heart, for all he tries to harden it and hide it away behind a layer of ice.

Sunset could not help the slight smile that made her lips twitch upwards. Sometimes, Princess, I think you are my better nature; other times I think you might be my worst instincts made manifest.

You will not go then?

How can I, when so much of the damage suffered by Vale has been my doing, mine and Cinder’s together. What we saw, today at the farm, was just a taste of the evil that we unleashed through our combined selfishness. I am responsible for my actions and, as her keeper, I am responsible for Cinder’s too. Together we broke Vale, without us the days of peace would be rolling on and on without an end in sight; how can I simply turn my back on it when it is lying on the ground in pieces?

And what will you do if Ruby will not go?

I honestly have no idea whatsoever. I only know that I can’t just leave as though none of this is my fault. You can understand that, right?

I do. And I understand why you feel such a sense of obligation, but if what Professor Goodwitch says is true and Ozpin is in need then who will go to him if not you?

There must be some other way. Perhaps I could pay a courier to go to Mistral with a message for Pyrrha explaining all of this to her, if I could be sure that it would get there in time. Or maybe there is someone else who can go, an associate of Ozpin’s that Professor Goodwitch hasn’t thought of yet. Maybe. There must be something else. Some other way. There’s always another way, right? I hope so, anyway. I should go, thank you for putting up with all of my ramblings, princess.

It is always a pleasure to hear from you, Sunset; I wish you good fortune, whatever path you choose to take.

Thank you, Princess Celestia. That means a lot to me.

Sunset closed the journal, and put it away in her satchel. Since she was now a person of no fixed abode she had to carry it everywhere with her; on the one hand it meant that she didn’t have to wait until she got back to Beacon to talk to Princess Celestia (or Princess Twilight) but on the other hoof it also meant that there was a constant risk that she could lose the precious journal in battle.

She’d just have to be careful, she supposed.

“Hey, you!”

Sunset looked up. She was sitting outside the Threadneedle Doctor’s office, since this one-mule town was too poor to maintain any kind of hospital, waiting to see if the young soldier they had rescued – Richard Burroughs – would come round to the extent that he could explain to her how he knew the name of Ruby Rose, and why he had been babbling it like he had as though it was all he knew.

The person who had just yelled her name had just come out of said doctor’s office, and was standing on the wooden porch looking down at Sunset as she sat on the steps. Sunset stared at him. She didn’t recognise him, though he certainly seemed to know her; he was an older man, middle aged at least, with round spectacles, a balding pate and a walrus moustache covering his upper lip. He was wearing fingerless gloves and a chequered scarf that made him rather like an ageing librarian, and the finger he was pointing at her was every so slightly crooked.

Sunset got to her feet. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

“Don’t you give me that you, you…I know who you are!”

I walk around the streets of Vale and nobody recognises me but I come out to the sticks and someone remembers who I am. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a little sorry for herself at the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Have we met?”

“No we most certainly have not!” the man barked at her. He walked towards her, shuffling across the wooden porch. “But I know who you are just the same. You’re…you’re Sunset Shimmer, aren’t you? You’re the one who caused the Breach you…you…you…”

His face was red and his breath was coming quickly and shallowly. He looked as though he might have a heart attack if this kept up. “Why don’t you sit down?” Sunset suggested, reaching out to help him.

“Don’t you touch me, you traitor!” he snapped at her. But he sat down on the porch step nevertheless. He took a moment to catch his breath. “I…I never heard about any prison breakout. What are you doing here, eh? What are you doing amongst decent folk? Why aren’t you in jail where you belong?”

“Belong?” Sunset murmured. “Horses belong free, but you stick them in stables and put tack and harness on them because they can be useful to you.” She sat down next to the man. “I belong in jail, but Vale has put a harness on me and sent me here because I can be useful to it.” She probably – almost certainly – wasn’t supposed to be so bald about it to random strangers, but he could cause as much trouble just from having recognised her as he could from knowing why he was able to recognise her, so what more harm could it do?

The man stared at her for a moment. “That…” he seemed to deflate visibly, his back bending and his whole body sagging forwards. “That makes sense. The Kingdom can’t spare anyone these days.”

“It makes so much sense that you’re the first person to actually care that you’ve seen me,” Sunset said, unable to resist pointing it out.

“That makes sense too,” the man admitted. “There’s so much going on that I suppose most have forgotten what a black-hearted reprobate you are.”

Sunset folded her arms and leaned ever so slightly away from him. “For someone who thinks so ill of me you’re showing a remarkable lack of fear at being in the presence of the infamous Sunset Shimmer.”

The man looked as though it had only just occurred to him that perhaps he should be afraid of her. He hesitated for a moment. “Was it you?” he asked. “Was it you who brought my son back?”

Sunset glanced at the wooden-fronted building behind them. “Richard Burroughs? He’s your son?”

The man nodded. “Caleb Burroughs. Was it you?”

“It was my team,” Sunset said quietly.

“Your team,” he repeated. “Are they all scum like you?”

“Believe it or not I’m actually the good one,” Sunset said.

“I don’t know whether to scoff or shudder,” Caleb said. “Why’d you do it, Miss Shimmer? Why did you sell us out?”

“I…I was trying to save my friends,” Sunset said. “I thought they’d die if anyone stopped the train. Somebody,” she raised her voice just a little for the benefit of Cinder, whom she knew to be nearby even if she couldn’t see her. “Convinced me that was the case. I didn’t feel I had any other choice: sabotage the train or everyone would die.”

“Everyone?” Caleb said incredulously. “What about us? What about me and mine? Aren’t we a part of everyone? Don’t our lives count?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I…I wasn’t…I wasn’t a very good person at the time.”

“That’s an understatement if ever I heard one.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” Sunset said.

“That’s good, because you’ll not get any from me,” Caleb said. “Saving my boy, well, it might balance the scales but it doesn’t put you in credit.”

“You were there, weren’t you?” Sunset said.

“What makes you say that?”

“Most people have moved on,” Sunset said. “In order to still be so worked up about it you’d have to have some stake in what happened there.” She frowned. “But…nobody got hurt-“

“No, nobody got hurt, thank goodness,” Caleb said. “But between the grimm on one side and the bombs on the other I lost everything. I had a shop on that plaza square: Burroughs Bookbinders. I lived over the top of it, with my son and my wife and my daughter. Been there ever since they closed off the subway line when Mountain Glenn…well, you know. It’s all rubble and ashes now, and the insurance company wouldn’t pay out because they said I wasn’t covered against the grimm or the Atlesian military.”

“Maybe you could claim I was responsible and frame it as criminal damage,” Sunset suggested.

“I tried that when I heard the news about your arrest,” Caleb said. “The woman on the scroll laughed, said ‘nice try’ and then hung up on me.”

Sunset rested her hands on her knees. “I…I never thought about that.” One of many things that I didn’t think about.

“I’m not the only one, neither,” Caleb said. “Mrs Henderson, that new faunus couple just opened the bakery, Jeff who owned the bazaar; all wiped out, the lot of them. I had to move out here and beg my cousin to let us crash with him until we could get back on our feet, and I still don’t feel anywhere near it. I took a job as a filing clerk in the sheriff’s office, all I could get, but for the amount it pays…I haven’t even been paid for the last two months. I know that’s not your fault, but it wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done your job either. Why, I don’t know, it feels as though if you’d just done your job-“

“The world wouldn’t have come apart at the seams,” Sunset muttered miserably.

Caleb Burroughs was silent for a moment. “This isn’t the kingdom that I grew up in,” he said. “Taking my boy away to make a soldier of him like this is Atlas.”

“Is there…I don’t suppose there’s anything that I can do?” Sunset said. “To start to make it right?”

“No, frankly, no there isn’t,” Caleb said shortly and sharply. “Or…well…you must know someone high up, mustn’t you? Someone who got you out of prison?”

“I…suppose,” Sunset said. Cardin does, at least.

“Maybe you could ask about when we’re going to start getting paid again,” Caleb asked.

Sunset nodded. “I’ll mention it. And your insurance, too, that shouldn’t be allowed.”

“It is what it is,” Caleb said, getting to his feet. He began to walk away, stopping as his feet touched the road. “Thank you, for my boy. Have a nice night, Miss Shimmer.”

“You too,” Sunset said. “Hey, Mister Burroughs?”

“Yes?”

“Did your son know the name Ruby Rose?”

Mister Burroughs thought about it for a moment. “She was one of your team-mates, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right,” Sunset said.

“Richard followed the huntsmen,” Mister Burroughs said. “I can’t speak to which of you he knew or didn’t. Why?”

“Nothing,” Sunset said. That could explain that, she supposed. If he knew Ruby by reputation then…your mind went to some strange places when it was given enough of a scare. “Goodnight, sir.”

She continued to watch after him as she felt, rather than saw, Cinder approach from out of the shadows.

“You take too much blame on yourself,” Cinder declared.

“Are you saying that I should blame you more?” Sunset asked.

“Would that make you feel better?” Cinder said, sitting down beside Sunset.

“Not really,” Sunset murmured. “I’d just blame myself for not doing to stop you.”

“Do you regret it?” Cinder asked.

Sunset turned her head to look at her. “Do I regret what?”

“Not stopping me,” Cinder said. “When you had the chance?”

Sunset blinked. “Did I ever have a chance?”

“Gods no, I would have kicked your ass in thirty seconds the moment I got serious,” Cinder said, a smile playing across her face. “And I wouldn’t have even needed the powers of a Maiden to do it.”

Sunset shook her head. “I…I should say something back right now, but the truth is…the truth is that I believe you. That’s...Pyrrha wasn’t the only one who was a little intimidated by you.”

“I know,” Cinder said. “Did you think that you were hiding that?”

“I…I might have hoped that I was,” Sunset said.

“You’re not as good a liar as you think you are,” Cinder said. “You can fool an honest man, but you can’t fool me.”

“Oh, yes, you have always seen right through me,” Sunset said in a voice loaded with sarcasm.

“I have…in the end,” Cinder insisted. She was quiet for a moment. “What’s happening to Vale isn’t your fault. You can’t take the sins of the world on your shoulders.”

“Then who will?”

“Nobody,” Cinder said. “But so what? Just because other people are too selfish or afraid to admit their own failings doesn’t mean that you have to bear them in their place? If you take that kind of attitude then you’ll invite men like that one just their to lay all their burdens at your feet and demand that you take responsibility for them.”

“He lost his whole livelihood because of your plan and my decision,” Sunset said. “How is that not our responsibility?”

Cinder hesitated. She sighed. “Alright, in that specific case…although that still doesn’t excuse the way he spoke to you. But what about everyone else who made a mistake or a decision that has led the world to this point? What about Ozpin? Why did he allow such a spirit of complacency to grow up in the kingdom that there was no emotional resilience in the face of danger? Why did he allow the power of Atlas to grow so great at the expense of all the other kingdoms?”

“That wasn’t his doing,” Sunset said.

“Wasn’t it?” Cinder asked. She rested her chin on her hand. “She hates him, you know.”

“Salem?”

“Mm,” Cinder murmured. “I didn’t understand it. It was a complete mystery to me: why should a god waste so much hatred on a mere mortal? It was like my hatred of Pyrrha but completely irrational to me, considering the vast disparity between the two of them. But now…now I begin to understand. He has been her opponent all this time, the grey spider sitting at the centre of the world-“

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Sunset said, with a little more sharpness than she intended. She softened her tone. “Please,” she said. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

Cinder didn’t seem to take offence. She barely seemed to notice. “You know what I mean,” she said. “For how many centuries has he directed affairs, opposing Salem’s will, moving his knights and pawns, guarding the four white queens. You and I we may have broken the world, but only because Ozpin had allowed it to become so fragile that one little shove was all it took.”

“That doesn’t actually help, considering we’re still the ones who gave it the shove,” Sunset said.

“True,” Cinder said. “But I won’t blame myself for more than I deserve to take the blame for, and I don’t like to see you doing differently.”

The door from the doctor’s opened before Sunset could reply, and Cardin emerged onto the porch. “I heard shouting,” he said.

“Someone was giving me a piece of their mind, don’t worry about it,” Sunset said.

“They recognised you?”

“They also recognised why I was here,” Sunset said. “I told you not to worry.”

“I sometimes feel as though it’s my job to worry,” Cardin said.

“It’s a good thing you’re not out in the field where you’d bring the grimm,” Cinder said.

Cardin ignored her. Sunset ignored her too. “How’s the guy?”

“No improvement,” Cardin said. “I tried to speak to the other survivors and got nowhere with any of them. They’re all terrified.”

“I can under-“ Sunset stopped. Her eyes widened. “Terrified,” she repeated, as a chill of fear began to come over her in turn because she had the plan now, or feared she did.

“Sunset?” Cinder asked.

“Clever, clever monsters,” Sunset whispered.

“What?” Cardin demanded.

“Terrified!” Sunset yelled, getting to her feet. “All the survivors are terrified out of their minds and they’re all here and that’s probably making everybody else scared too.”

Cardin’s face paled. “You…you think they’re that smart? There’s no way that they’re that smart.”

“Except it looks like they are,” Sunset said. “Sami! Jack! Get over here!”

“Emerald,” Cinder called. “Where are you?”

The three of them emerged after a few moments, slinking out of the shadows as if they darkness had birthed them all. “What’s going on?” Emerald asked.

“We’re about to get hit it seems,” Cinder said. A smile fleeted across her lips. “We get to find out what that’s like from the other side for a change.”

“This isn’t funny,” Cardin muttered. “Get to the stockade, I’ll join you there in just a moment. Sheriff! Sheriff Butternut!”

The old sheriff, approaching down the street, stopped as Cardin jogged towards him. “Something wrong, Captain?”

“What’s the sturdiest building in town, sheriff?”

“Uh, most likely the old church,” the sheriff said, and a quick glance told Sunset that he was probably right. It was an old fashioned building, built when such things were built to last, with thick stone walls and stout wooden doors.

“Get everybody inside there, bar the doors and windows, nobody comes out until I give you the all clear.”

“What’s going on? Is it-“

“I don’t know yet,” Cardin admitted. “But better safe than sorry.”

“Okay.”

Sunset led her team to the wooden palisade that marked the edge of Threadneedle, she was the first to climb the ladder that led onto the platform that sat atop the wall of wooden poles, from where she could look out across the deserted farmland beyond. Torches burned along the wall, giving a little illumination on the parapet but making it harder to see out into the darkness beyond that point. She could just about make out a ditch beyond the palisade, filled with sharpened stakes only a few of which had fallen down.

In the town itself the church bells began to toll, calling the people to seek sanctuary within.

Cardin joined the team on the parapet. “Do you see anything?”

“No,” Sunset admitted, squinting out and trying to see past the glare of the torches. “Sami? What do you see?”

“Oh, sure, because all faunus can see in the dark.”

“Do you see anything or not?” Sunset demanded.

Sami narrowed her eyes. “I can see…” she reached for her belt and pulled out her jagged knife with its antler handle. “Yep, looks like you were right boss.”

The breeze blew across the deserted fields, brushing through Sunset’s burning hair. For a moment more the sound of the church bells tolling deeply behind them was the only sound to disturb the stillness of the night.

And then the howling began.

It was beowolves then, not ursai. Ursai might roar but they did not howl in so distinctively lupine a fashion, and they never seemed to delight in making the heavens shake with the sound of their howling as the beowolves did. It did not quite have so great an effect; it sounded a much smaller pack than Sunset had faced in Vale, but it sounded enough to tear the town apart if they were not stopped.

Good thing we’re here then, isn’t it?

Cardin carried a pistol now in addition to his mace, a pistol that was bigger than his meaty hand and looked so heavy that he couldn’t have lifted it without aura. He pointed it at a forty-five degree angle to his head, and pulled the trigger; there was a bang, and a fire-dust flare round shot from the barrel to rise slowly into the air, crackling like a firework as it began to descend towards the ground.

In the red haze of light that it spread out like a little sun Sunset could see the beowolves: more than a score of them, less than two score; call it thirty over all; and in the midst of them a pegasus.

Sunset wished that she didn’t have to call it so; it seemed an insult to the people of her home to misuse their name upon this twisted creature of nightmare in the same way that it would have done to call a karkadann a unicorn. But pegasus was the name given to it in the bestiaries, so what else was she supposed to call it for all that it was nothing like the pegasi she knew. It was, however, a horse like grimm with great black wings spread out on either side of it, and equine hooves that would have explained the tracks in the midst of the beowolf pack. It’s face was bone, and jagged teeth dropped and rose from its jaws, but there was little other bone visible on its black and oily form; it was about as tall as the walls of Threadneedle – although they only stood twelve feet high at most, so this grimm was still young, or Sunset though it likely so.

But it would have been enough, had there been no huntsmen here.

Young as it is, did it come up with this plan?

There was no time to ponder upon that, for the grimm were charging now and by the light of Cardin’s flare Sunset could see that they were not alone; more beowolves were joining them, and ursai from out of the woods drawn by the fear of the survivors of the farm attacks, and even a nevermore – no, two! – swooping across the moon before diving down into the night sky, banking gracefully as they closed with the ground until they were flying just above the heads of the advancing, growing horde of grimm.

The odds would have been pretty, well, grim if they had not been there. Now that they were there they could probably take on a force this size, but if they waited to receive them on the wall there was a good chance – considering that there were only six of them – that some grimm would breach the defences, enter the town, and do who knew what mischief before they could be hunted down.

Fortunately, Sunset had an alternative.

She didn’t reach for her gun. Instead, she held out her hands towards the grimm and concentrated. It was a pity that she needed to concentrate, but while unicorn magic was second nature to her the pegasus powers she had only recently acquired took some work to get to grips with still. Especially when she was aiming for effects as spectacular as this.

The grimm pegasus was charging now, shrieking as it came, but Sunset wasn’t too worried. She was about to show this pretender what real pegasus magic was all about.

Real pegasus magic? Listen to me, when I was in Equestria I despised pegasi.

But then, when I was in Equestria I despised pretty much everypony.

“Uh, boss?” Sami said. “What are you doing?”

“Something magnificent,” Cinder said. “Or making herself look slightly stupid, but I hope it’s the first one.”

Sunset glanced at her, and grinned just a little.

Step one: pegasus power. Weather be at my command.

It took concentration. She was used to the feeling of magic at her fingertips – or horn tip – she was used to feeling connected to the flow of arcane energies; she wasn’t used to feeling connected to the wind and the rain as well, she wasn’t yet used to getting goosebumps before the storm rolled in, she wasn’t used to feeling the wind change before it happened, she wasn’t used to knowing that there would be no more snowfall before the seasons turned. She especially wasn’t used to being able to do something about all of those things if she really wanted to. But she was connected, and she could do something about those things, and right now she really, really wanted to. She hadn’t asked for these powers but she had, it seemed, sweated and toiled to attain them and so right now, when she needed them, she was going to get her sweat and toil’s worth out of them.

The winds began to rise. Sunset – whose control over these powers was as less than perfect as her ability to get them working in the first place – was aiming to start the winds in front of her, and mostly they were just not all of them. She felt them on her back, blowing through her hair and making the torches on the wooden wall flicker, but far more she saw them blowing in the faces of the grimm, gusting at them, beating at them in an inexorable wave that halted their advance dead in its tracks. Beowolves standing on their hind legs were knocked over and skidded backwards in the dirt while the others got down on all fours to dig their claws into the ground. The pegasus folded up its wings and shrieked into Sunset’s gale, its cry competing with the howling of the wind. The nevermores were held in place, beating their dark wings just to stay in one place.

And Sunset wasn’t done yet. She put more power into it, summoning not only wind but storm and tempest, conjuring black clouds in the skies above, dragging the condensation into place, compacting it, forming the clouds and crushing them together until they were sodden and unstable, then unleashing them all. Rain joined the wind to blow into the faces of the grimm, but not just rain; thunder rolled as lightning slashed down from out of the dark clouds to hammer the grimm like the fire of an Atlesian cruiser, lancing from the heavens to the earth in patterns like twisted swords and tridents and wicked spears, lightning up the darkness for a moment and then plunging all back into darkness once again.

The torches had blown out, but Sunset still didn’t cast a nightvision spell upon her eyes partly because she wasn’t ready to try and intermingle pegasus and unicorn magic at the same time quite yet but also because the lightning strikes would have blinded her night eyes instead of lightning up the night for her to see that she had brought down the shrieking nevermores – one was ash already and the other was on the ground with what looked like an injured wing – and struck down beowolves and the pegasus was shrieking in what looked like panic as the lightning struck all around it and the grimm that it had mustered withered in the onslaught of the storm.

Sunset’s companions on the wall could see that a pair of wings had appeared on Sunset’s back: a pair of wings of golden light, glowing like a setting sun behind her.

Step two: unicorn magic.

Sunset left the clouds to spend themselves and the winds to crack their cheeks until there was nothing left – they began to die down as soon as Sunset took her attention away from them, but it would take a while for them to be fully gone; Sunset’s hand shook ever so slightly, and her knees trembled, but she ignored them both as she switched from the unfamiliar hilt of the sword that was her pegasus powers to the familiar blade that was her unicorn magic as she grabbed with telekinesis all of the wooden stakes in the ditch facing the oncoming – a little less oncoming now – grimm. Sunset grunted a little at the effort as she wrenched the stakes out of the ground, lifting them up into the air, levelling them like the hedge of spears that the phalanx presents to the enemy, then launching them straight ahead like a rain of arrows darkening the skies towards an oncoming enemy. Now she cast a nightvision spell, to let herself see the effects as the wooden stakes shot forwards, impaling beowolves and ursai, ramming into the pegasus’ knee, slaying small grimm and injuring the large ones.

A barrage of magical missiles leapt from Sunset’s fingertips, raining down like artillery fire, the green explosions lighting up the darkness as the grimm howled in pain, dying or losing limbs as they scrambled to avoid Sunset’s fire which swept across the field.

Step three: Earth pony stamina or else I’d probably have passed out by now.

She collapsed anyway, her knees buckling beneath her and forcing her to grab the wooden wall for support. Cinder grabbed her, taking her by the arm with one hand, her other hand hovering nearby at the ready.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

“And we’ve got this,” Cardin said. “I don’t know…I just don’t know, but nice work. Now come on, let’s finish them off!”

He didn’t wait for the others to follow him before he leapt over the wall. His first leap carried him easily down to the ground, while his second carried him just as easily over the now empty ditch as he charged the remaining grimm. Not waiting for the others was a mistake – had he forgotten that this wasn’t Team WSTW? He needed to spend the amount of time with them that Sunset had been forced to endure – but with Cinder glaring at them Emerald was the first to follow, then Jack and Sami after. Cinder waited with Sunset on the wall.

“If you want to grab some glory,” Sunset murmured. “Don’t feel obliged to hold back upon my account.”

Cinder snorted. “Glory,” she said. “I think we’ve both had our fill of glory…and of the consequences from our seeking it, have we not?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “It got a little more trouble than it was worth, in the end.”

Cardin, Jack and Sami made short work of the remaining beowolves; Cardin set about him with his mace, bludgeoning the remaining grimm to death with mighty blows that crushed their skulls beneath the impact; Jack didn’t bother using his semblance, only his shotgun and his axe which took less effort on his part; Sami’s semblance was the uncanny – and frankly somewhat unnerving – ability to know exactly where to strike for a killing blow, and so with astonishing agility she leapt over lunging beowolves with a grace denied to the greatest of gymnasts, plunging her knife into the napes of their necks and slashing out their throats. Between Cardin’s powerful blows, Jack’s weapon, Emerald’s skill with her chained blades and Sami’s semblance they soon wiped out those beowolves who had survived Sunset’s power. The wounded nevermore perished under a combined attacked from Sami and Emerald as the latter used her chains to drag it down so that Sami could strike. Cardin charged a large ursa, covered in bone and spikes to mark its years, and knocked it off its feet before hitting it in the face until its bony mask collapsed and it began to turn to ash.

Only the pegasus remained, and though wounded and bereft of all its followers it continued to attack, dashing forward with a furious shriek as its beowolves died around it, kicking Jack to the ground and trampling over him – it didn’t look as though it had broken his aura, but he would definitely be sore afterward – as it rushed towards the fall, its wings spread out on either side, its red eyes burning with wrath.

It leapt, its wings carrying it as it flew towards the wall, the wooden wall which it was almost certain to break through if it struck.

Sunset raised her hand, and focussed her magic.

Fail Safe.

Her hand glowed green, and the pegasus exploded as the magic that was sustaining it in such a monstrous form was disrupted by Sunset’s counterspell, releasing its essence of darkness in all directions as the vapour of the creature was cast to the four winds.

Sunset sagged in Cinder’s arms as, her magic spent, she began to slip into unconsciousness.

When she came too she was strapped into the co-pilot’s seat of a Bullhead.

Cardin was in the pilot’s seat, and he glanced at her as she stirred to wakefulness. “Perfect timing, we’re almost there.”

Sunset blinked, and rubbed her eyes. It was day, the sunlight coming in through the front window. She twisted around in the seat so that she could look behind her and see that the main compartment was empty; they were the only two people in the airship. “Where’s everybody else.”

“Cinder’s herding the cats until you get back,” Cardin said.

“I see,” Sunset murmured. “And where are we?”

“On your way to see Ruby,” Cardin said. “I decided to drop you just a little way away, so you’ll have to walk about ten, fifteen minutes. I don’t know how they’d feel about a Bullhead landing on their front lawn.”

“That’s smart and considerate,” Sunset said. “Two things I never thought I’d…you know what, I don’t have the energy to insult you right now, especially when you’re doing me a solid favour. You didn’t have to fly me all the way out here.”

“No,” Cardin agreed. “But if I didn’t then I’d have to let you stay away longer while you walked all the way across the island. If I fly you over, and pick you up, I can get you back sooner.”

“Thanks,” Sunset said. “For letting me go at all.” She frowned. “You know, I didn’t ask this on the flight over, but when did you learn how to fly a Bullhead?”

“My parents gave me flying lessons for my sixteenth birthday,” Cardin said.

“Of course they did,” Sunset muttered. “How long do I have?”

“Two days,” Cardin said. “I’ll come back here with the team to pick you up, then we’ll head back to Vale.” He paused. “I won’t even pretend to know what it is that you need from her, but whatever it is I hope that you get it.”

“I appreciate that,” Sunset said. “I just…”

“What?”

I just wish that I knew whether I wanted to get it or not. I wish that I knew whether I want Ruby to agree to head off on her own all the way to Anima without a team to back her up, looking for someone she has no idea how to find, braving all the perils of this war again but this time doing so alone.

She could go to Mistral and try and get help from Jaune and Pyrrha but even that will be a perilous road alone.

I’m not entirely sure whether I want her to embark upon it.

But I know that someone must.

“Nothing,” Sunset said softly. “How much further?”

Farmer Maggot was alerted to something strange first of all by the barking of his three dogs; Grip, Fang and Wolf were big Mistralian wolfhounds, the shaggy-haired beasts that some huntsmen used to help them hunt down and fight grimm; Maggot kept them because, living out a little closer to the middle of nowhere than most, he might have need of that kind of strength to protect himself and his family, and he might have need of the kind of awareness too that led to all three dogs, who had been dozing in front of the fire just a moment earlier, to rise to their feet and start barking fit to wake the baby and set her wailing as well.

They were well trained dogs, and he knew that they wouldn’t bark at nothing; when he bought them as mere pups the fellow who sold them to him told him that they’d had their auras unlocked, so that they could sense wickedness as well as tear a beowolf’s throat out with their teeth. So Maggot didn’t scold the animals, or tell them to quiet down. Rather he motioned for his wife to take the little one upstairs while he reached for the .73 rifle that hung on the wall near his armchair.

It was then that he heard a sound like a discordant trumpet howling in the air outside loud enough to make the windows shake in their fittings.

Farmer Maggot felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. He had never heard of any grimm that made a sound like that.

He couldn’t see anything out the windows, and it wasn’t just the darkness of the night. It was as if there was a smoke beyond, as though his fields were burning except that he couldn’t smell any fire. He could only see a smoke that was making it impossible to see anything else.

“Here boys, here, to me,” he murmured, as he loaded his gun and walked cautiously to the door, chaining it before he opened it just a crack, holding his gun out before him.

He still couldn’t see anything beside the smoke, but he also could still not smell anything burning out there.

But then, where was the smoke coming from.

A light illuminated that thick, dark smoke, a light like a red flame, streaking backwards as though it was on the move. The smoke cleared a little, and Maggot thought that he could make out a horse, a giant horse wreathed in darkness.

He couldn’t see a rider.

“Rrrrruby….” Hissed a voice from out of the smoke. “Rrrrrrose.”

“Ruby Rose?” Maggot repeated. “You mean…you mean Tai’s little girl?” He knew the family just a little; when the girls were young their mother had brought them strawberry picking in his south field, paid a very good price for all that they picked too. That was a long time ago, of course, nasty business, but Taiyang himself sometimes came by to pick up a sack of carrots or some fresh mushrooms.

He hadn’t been by for a while, but it had been little Ruby herself who had been last, poor lass. More nasty business, if he heard right.

“Rrrrruby Rrrrrose,” the hissing voice repeated, and as it spoke the burning light in the darkness burned brighter than before, and his dogs let out a trio of yelps as though they had been burned and leapt backwards, retreating in the face of who or whatever was at the door.

The gun dropped from Farmer Maggot’s hands as his arms became too weak to hold onto it. “That way,” he said, pointing out through the crack of the door. “You want that way.”

There was a moment of stillness, and of near quiet; then, with a sound of hooves thumping upon the ground, the light began to move away and the smoke began to clear, leaving only the dark of the night to contend with.

Farmer Maggot sagged against the doorframe as a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Only after a moment did he become aware that there were lights in the darkness, more red lights creeping closer and closer.

They were the eyes of beowolves.

Author's Note

The first draught of the conversation between Sunset and Mr Burroughs was written by Cody Fett, before I changed bits and pieces so that it would fit here.

A Wounded Heart

A Wounded Heart

Three Months Earlier…

The remains of the Mistralian fleet hung in the air, clustered around their sole remaining battleship in a way that made Ruby unsure if they were trying to protect it or shelter under its protection. On the ground, long lines of Mistralian soldiers were queuing up to get aboard the airships that would carry them up to those same ships for the trip home to Mistral. They looked tired, they shuffled along as the lines moved slowly forwards toward the landing zones, there was no order to the way in which they carried their weapons…but at the same time Ruby thought that they looked glad to be going home.

She wished that she could feel the same way, but the thought of what was waiting for her back home – the empty room, the palpable absence of Yang from her life that would surely grow only more acute back in that house that Yang had filled with life ever since Mom went away; Dad, and however he might be dealing with this – robbed her of any joy or even enthusiasm that she might have felt.

At the thought of home she could feel only sadness, a sadness that had stopped being acute but had never ceased to be with her.

One of the Mistralian soldiers started to sing. Ruby didn’t recognise the song, but it was maudlin and a little melancholy, a song about home and love and family. Soon it spread all down the line of soldiers, jumping from queue to queue like a fire consuming everything, banishing weariness from the brows of the young soldiers as they all took up the song, singing of home as they waited to board the airships that would take them there.

It stung at Ruby’s ears.

“I can ask them to stop, if you like,” Pyrrha said softly, or at least it sounded soft even as she was speaking loudly enough to be heard over the chorus.

Ruby shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, and she suspected that she didn’t entirely convince Pyrrha; she certainly didn’t entirely convince herself. “Whatever makes them feel better.”

Pyrrha frowned, and looked away from Ruby towards the slowly boarding soldiers of Mistral, preparing to sail back towards the homes that they should never have left. “I feel as though I shouldn’t be leaving,” she said, looking back – and downwards, just a little – at Ruby once again.

Ruby tried to smile, although she couldn’t judge the success of it. “I know that it must seem as though Vale needs you right now,” she said. “But I’m sure that Mistral needs you just as much, maybe more; and it kind of seems like it wants you a lot more than Vale does right now.”

“I’m not talking about Mistral, or Vale,” Pyrrha said. She reached out and placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I’m talking about you. I shouldn’t be leaving you here, all…all alone.”

Ruby reached up and placed a hand on Pyrrha’s wrist. “That’s…that’s really nice of you, but…I’m not alone. I’ve got my Dad, still, and he needs me back home. Just like Mistral needs you back home now, too.”

“But you-“

“I’ll be fine,” Ruby lied, and hoped that it sounded more convincing on her tongue than out of her head. “Do you remember the day we first met Penny and Rainbow Dash?”

Pyrrha nodded. “I’m not sure I’ll ever forget how we met Penny,” she said.

“But do you remember before that?” Ruby said. “We talked about magic, and fame and making friends…and you told me that Mistral would always have a claim upon your heart.”

“I did,” Pyrrha said. “And it does; but that claim doesn’t mean that I need to…that I should abandon my friend when she-“ Ice began to form in the palm of her hand.

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried, drawing Pyrrha’s attention to the fact.

Pyrrha gasped, looking down at her open palm before clenching it tightly into a fist. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I…I didn’t realise it would be so hard to control these powers. I mastered my semblance so easily, but…”

“You have to go,” Ruby insisted. “I…thank you, so much, it really means a lot to me but…but you have to go. Sunset gave you those powers so that you could keep up the fight, because you’re the only one of us who can fight right now.” Or the only one who wants to.

“Pyrrha does have to go,” Jaune said. He looked as though he were about to wince. “You’re right, Ruby, Pyrrha’s people need her in Mistral, and with things going the way they are here…but Mistral doesn’t need me; maybe I-“

“No!” Ruby insisted. “No, I’m not going to tear the two of you apart! I know that you want to help but what are the two of you going to do, sit around at my place? How is that going to help anyone?” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just…I don’t know…”

“It’s alright,” Pyrrha said gently. “We won’t push it any more.”

Ruby still had her eyes closed, so the first she knew of it was the soft brush of Pyrrha’s lips upon her cheek. She opened her eyes to see that Pyrrha had knelt down, so that they were more at a height than they had been.

“I don’t know what fate has in store for us,” Pyrrha admitted. “I don’t know if we will meet again…but I very much hope we will.”

Ruby nodded. “I’d like that,” she said quietly. “When you get home, find my Uncle Qrow; he can help you, he’s really good at what he does.”

Pyrrha nodded. “We shall seek him out, if he can be found.”

Ruby looked from Jaune to Pyrrha. “Take care of one another. Promise me that you’ll do that.”

Jaune knelt down too. “Of course. I promise.”

“And so do I,” Pyrrha said.

Ruby nodded. “Good.” Because you have to take care of the people that you love, or one day they won’t be there any more. “I…I…good.”

Pyrrha and Jaune both wrapped their arms around her. “If anything changes,” Pyrrha said. “Come find us in Mistral. So long as I live you will always find a welcome there. No matter what, we’ll always be Team Sapphire.”

“Always,” Ruby murmured. And yet no more. She backed away, pulling free from their embrace, from the warmth and the love that she did not deserve, that seemed to almost mock her with the reminder of what she had lost. “You should probably go,” she said. “I should go.”

“Ruby-“ Jaune began.

“I love you guys,” Ruby squeaked as she sped away, fleeing from the pair of them in a burst of rose petals.

As the petals fell to the ground, someone who observed them closely might have noted that they were wet with tears.

Now…

“Dad,” Ruby murmured, as she watched her father push his plate a little way across the kitchen table. “You’ve barely eaten anything. Was it bad?”

“No,” Taiyang said. “No, it’s not that, Ruby. I’m just…I’m not hungry today, that’s all.”

“You’re never hungry,” Ruby pointed out. “Since I got home I’ve barely seen you eat anything.” In that sense she supposed that it was a good thing that he barely did anything; it was preventing him from wasting away too fast.

Not that she would say that his lack of activity was a good thing.

Taiyang didn’t look at her. He looked down at the table, and brushed his fingers across the wooden surface. “I’m sorry, Ruby,” he said. “I know that you’re trying your best, I just…”

“I know,” Ruby said. “I miss her too. I just…I hate seeing you this way.”

Taiyang didn’t reply to that. He kept on staring at the table, resolutely refusing to look at Ruby.

Ruby glanced out of the window, to where the snow lay crisp but shallow under the gaze of the sun. “The snow’s almost gone,” she said. “Soon it’ll feel like spring.”

“Maybe,” Taiyang said.

Ruby knew exactly what he meant, because she felt the same way: as though spring would never come again; winter had lingered here too long already, the snow was more stubborn than it was meant to be, the air was colder than it ought to have been, the sun was not as warm as it should have gotten by this time of year. It should have felt like spring weeks ago, or at least started to. It still felt too much like winter for her liking, too much like an icy embrace around her.

No, that’s got nothing to do with the seasons. That’s just my heart.

It might never feel like spring there again, either.

“When…” she began. “When do you think that we should clear out the dead flowers from the garden ready for the new planting? Do you think it’s too early to get started on that? It…it’ll be nice to see the garden flowering again, don’t you think?”

Taiyang sat silently for a moment. “I’m not in the mood for gardening today,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He rose heavily to his feet. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

I do need you, Ruby thought. My sister’s dead and my friends are all gone and I’m all alone and I need you, Dad. I feel like I’m suffocating and I need you.

I need you to tell me that it’s all going to get better even if that’s a lie. I need you to tell me how to get these stupid letters to stop coming. I need you to tell me how I live with feeling this way. I need you to tell me what I’m supposed to do now.

I need you to tell me that you don’t blame me for what happened to Yang. I need you to tell me that this isn’t my fault.

Even if that’s a lie.

“Sure,” Ruby said softly, as she watched her father go. His footsteps echoed heavily on the wooden floorboards. She pulled his plate towards her, and lifted it up off the table.

Zwei, who had been living well out of Taiyang’s abstinence – Ruby probably ought to have stopped bothering to make him full meals, it would certainly have saved money, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop hoping that today would be the day when he started eating again – picked himself up off the floor and trotted, a little more slowly than might have been the case some time earlier, towards her. He wagged his tail as his tongue hung out of his mouth.

“I probably shouldn’t give this to you,” Ruby said. “You’re getting fat.”

Zwei whined, and looked imploringly at her.

Ruby sighed. “Okay. I suppose it’s better than it going to waste.” She picked up a sausage from Taiyang’s plate and bent down to offer it to Zwei, who seemed to beam happily as he ate it.

It was good to see that somebody still remembered how to smile around here. As she scratched the top of Zwei’s head Ruby found herself wondering if the dog actually knew that Yang was dead. He knew that she was not around at the moment; when they first got back home he’d spent a couple of days running around the house and the land outside looking for her before coming to the realisation that she was not here. Then he’d sat at the door for a couple of days after that as though he was waiting for her to come home. He’d given up on that too in fairly short order, he knew that she was gone and he seemed to have accepted that she wouldn’t be coming back for a while, but did he understand? Ruby had told him, her eyes filling with tears as she spoke the words, but did he understand her. He had aura, he had a soul, but did he have a brain? Could he understand what it meant for Yang to be dead, or did he think that she was back at Beacon or somewhere like that, and in a few months or a year’s time she’d come home to take him for walks once more?

Did Zwei understand what it meant for someone to be dead? This was the first time that any member of his family had died, since they had got him when Mom was already gone; did he get it? Did he understand that Yang was never coming back, that she was gone for good, that he would…that he would never see her again?

Ruby tried but did not entirely succeed in stifling a sob.

Grief filled the house up of the absent Yang, making a home made for four seem crowded with just two. Yang’s spectre hung heavily in every room, in every place where she had been – which was everywhere. It made it hard, but at the same time it made it hard to forget, for which Ruby was glad. She didn’t want to forget, even though it was hard.

She fed Zwei the rest of Taiyang’s unwanted dinner, and carried the dishes over to the sink. She piled them up on the side and started to run the water.

A single gunshot echoed out from the woods beyond the house, a sharp report that scattered the birds out of the trees, sending them flying up in all directions cawing loudly.

Ruby’s head snapped up as she looked out of the window, trying to find the source of that shot. She couldn’t see anything, but the trees were too thick to see much in the midst of the woods. It had been a gunshot without question, a snap of a shot that sounded almost like…no, it couldn’t be, no way.

What was someone doing firing so close to her house?

Ruby looked down at Zwei. “Stay with Dad,” she said. She wasn’t sure how able he would be to defend himself if anything bad happened. When she ran out of the kitchen and into the living room she found him on his feet, looking on edge.

“That…that was probably just…I don’t know what that was.”

“I don’t know either,” Ruby said. “Just stay here, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

“Ruby-“

“I said I’ll take care of it,” Ruby repeated, not giving him another chance to protest as she ran towards the door. Crescent Rose was leaning against the wall and Ruby picked up the weapon in a single fluid motion. She didn’t use it as much as she had recently, but she took it with her whenever she visited Mom and Yang and it was unfamiliar to her as her fingers closed around the crimson weapon.

She felt…better, with this in hand. Everything felt a little bit better. It didn’t change anything, but it did make her feel a little more in control.

Ruby opened the door and stepped outside. Crescent Rose was in carbine configuration, and she kept it that way because it was easier to move, for now.

Somebody was coming. She could hear their footsteps crunching through the shallow snow.

Ruby pointed Crescent Rose in their direction and unfolded her weapon in a series of mechanical clanks and hydraulic hisses. “Who’s there?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

Sunset emerged out of the trees, her hands raised above her head. She smiled sheepishly. “Hey there, partner.”

Ruby lowered Crescent Rose. “Sunset?”

“Sorry if I startled you,” Sunset said, tentatively lowering her hands. “There was a beowolf who didn’t leave me much choice.”

Ruby stared at her for a moment, her partner, her leader, her friend. She crossed the distance between them in a blur of rosepetals, slamming into Sunset with such force that the other girl was knocked onto her back upon the snow bestrewn ground as Ruby, her arms wrapped tightly around Sunset’s chest, sobbed upon her breast.

She was still sobbing as she felt Sunset’s arms enfold her, one upon her back and other on her hair.

“I missed you too,” Sunset murmured.

Ruby didn’t know exactly how long they stayed that way, but it must have been for a little while because by the time they got up Sunset’s jacket was absolutely soaked. “Sorry about that,” Ruby said.

“It’s okay,” Sunset said; she started to take said jacket off before seeming to remember that she had a sword strapped to her back which would make it a little difficult. “It’ll dry out.”

Ruby nodded. “So…what are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was allowed,” Sunset said.

“Do you have another note?”

Sunset’s expression was half-cringe, half smile. “No, although if you call Cardin he can tell you that I’m supposed to be here.”

“Cardin?” Ruby shook her head. “What are you doing here, Sunset? I mean, I’m glad to see you, but…”

“But it’s a shock, I know,” Sunset said. “I came here…I wish that I could say that it was just to see you…I would have come sooner if it hadn’t been…I need to talk to you, about something important.”

“Oh,” Ruby said. She didn’t know what else she was supposed to say to that. Something important? Her? Why? What did Sunset need to come all the way out here to say and why say it to her?

Did the council send her? Is this what they do when you don’t answer their letters?

Whether that was the reason or not it didn’t change the fact that this was still Sunset, and that Ruby was still glad to see her. She felt like a visitor from another time, an echo of a better world, like a chink of sunlight breaking through the clouds and reminding Ruby of a time when she had dwelt in sunshine.

And if I have to tell her no – when I tell her no – she’ll understand. No matter who she’s working for she’s still Sunset, after all.

“Do you want to come inside?” Ruby asked, gesturing towards the house.

“Is that okay?” Sunset said, trying but kind of failing to disguise her eagerness. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ruby said quickly. “It’ll be good to have some company. We…we don’t get many visitors. It can be a little lonely out here.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Sure,” she said. “Lead the way.”

They walked briskly back towards the house, crunching the thin layer of snow under their feet as they walked.

“Spring’s late,” Sunset observed from just a little behind Ruby. “Vale’s winter of discontent rolls on and on.”

“It’ll come,” Ruby said. She looked back at Sunset. “Won’t it? The snow has to melt, the cold has to come away some time. Because if it doesn’t…if it doesn’t come then what will we do?”

Sunset stopped, if only for a moment. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sure the sun will shine upon…upon everyone again soon.”

The sun was already up, and making the snow beneath their boots gleam brightly, but Ruby knew what she meant. She turned away, and led the rest of the short distance to the house, opening the door and stepping inside, wiping her feet on the welcome mat.

“Ruby?” Taiyang said, stepping forward. “What-“ He stopped as Sunset followed Ruby inside.

“Hello, sir,” Sunset said. She rested Sol Invictus down beside the door next to Crescent Rose, and a moment later she pulled her sword-belt over her shoulder and left her blade there too. She held out one hand to Taiyang as she advanced towards him. “We’ve met once before, but I’m-“

“I know who you are,” Taiyang said, his voice a little colder than before. He folded his arms. Sunset was left standing there, holding out her hand to the empty air.

“Dad-“ Ruby began.

“It’s okay,” Sunset said quickly.

“No, it’s not,” Ruby said. “You’re my friend-“

“And I’m a lot of other things besides,” Sunset said, not taking her eyes off Taiyang for a moment. “And your father doesn’t have to like all of them.” She was silent for a moment, and that silence engulfed the entire room, broken only by the light pattering of melting snow from Sunset’s jacket as it dripped onto the floor. Sunset smiled abashedly. “Is there anyone I can hang this up to dry?” she asked as she pulled the sodden garment off.

“Sure,” Ruby said. “By the fireplace. Right here.” She gestured to the other side of the living room, where a fire was already burning in the grate. She took Sunset’s jacket from her unresisting hand and carried it across the room, leaving Taiyang and Sunset to stare into one another’s eyes while she hung it from the mantelpiece.

“I don’t know whether to tell you to get out of my house,” Taiyang said. “Or thank you for saving my little girl.”

Sunset bowed her head. “I…I don’t deserve your thanks, but I’m afraid that I have to ask you not to ask me to leave just yet,” she said. Sunset took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

Taiyang stared at her for a moment, before something seemed to snap in him and he slumped back down onto the sofa. “If Ruby wants you to stay then you can stay,” he muttered.

“Thanks, Dad,” Ruby murmured. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen? We can talk there.”

“Sure,” Sunset said softly, and once again she allowed Ruby to lead the way as they left Taiyang and Zwei out in the living room while they headed into the kitchen. Ruby pulled the door too and motioned for Sunset to sit down.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ruby said, as she took the seat opposite Sunset, facing the sink and the kitchen window. “He’s…he’s having a bad time of it.”

Sunset rested her hands on the table. “And you?”

“I’m okay,” Ruby said.

“Ruby,” Sunset murmured, sliding her hands across the wooden table to embrace those of Ruby on the other side. “Come on. It’s me.”

Ruby hesitated, quiet for a moment. “I miss her,” she admitted.

“There’s no shame in that,” Sunset said.

“Shame,” Ruby murmured. “I…maybe I should be ashamed. Maybe…maybe Dad should hate me, even though he doesn’t.”

“Why?” Sunset asked. “Ruby, what are you-“

“It’s my fault!” Ruby cried, her eyes welling up with tears. “I was the one who…Twilight was going to open the gates and let everyone through, but I was the one…I didn’t want the grimm getting into Vale so I…I…and so, because of what I did…because of me, Yang’s…”

“No, Ruby,” Sunset said firmly, even fiercely. “No. Don’t…you can’t let yourself think like that.”

“Not even if it’s true?”

“It’s not true,” Sunset said, her voice rising. “Ruby, you…you don’t need to be ashamed of what you did. You did the right thing-“

“Really?” Ruby said. She shook her head. “It’s not what you did.”

Sunset was silent a moment. “No,” she admitted. “No, it’s not what I did. But that doesn’t give me the right to criticise you for what you did. The fact that I can’t…it doesn’t make you wrong.”

“No, the fact that Yang’s not here makes me do that,” Ruby said.

“You’re not being fair on yourself-“

“Fair?” Ruby cried. “Yang’s gone, Sunset; Yang’s gone and she’s never coming back and there’s nothing fair about any of this!” Her whole body trembled, she practically doubled up on her chair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” Sunset said. “You don’t have to apologise to me.”

Ruby closed her eyes, screwing them tightly shut. “Yang…she wanted to see the world. She was going to go to Mistral, and then Atlas, and all the little places in between. She was going to drive across Sanus until she reached the Eastern Sea and find out if all the stories about what’s on the other side of the mountains were true. She was going…there was so much that she wanted to see, and so much that she wanted to do, and now…now she’ll never get to do any of it. If I’d just…maybe if I’d let Twilight-“

“I think we both know that if you’d let the grimm into Vale to save Yang you would both have hated yourselves before too long,” Sunset said. “I…I met a man yesterday. He lost his business when the Atlesians bombed the breach. He wasn’t a fan of me, as you can imagine. If you’d opened the gate and…I’m not sure either you or Yang could have born the consequences of that.

“I’m not…I wish that I could take your pain away. I really wish that there was something that I could say, some magic spell that I could cast to make it all better…but there isn’t. And we both know that there isn’t. All I can say is that I’m sorry, Ruby, I’m so sorry, and…” she pulled out her scroll, opening it up and tapping on the buttons. “I got this new scroll, with a different number,” she said. “A number that I’ve just sent to you. If you ever need to talk about anything at all then you can reach me. For now, at least.”

Ruby nodded. “Thanks, Sunset. That…that means a lot. I don’t get a lot of visitors out here, it’s just me and Dad and Zwei; and Dad…Dad doesn’t talk much any more. With Jaune and Pyrrha…it might be good to have someone I can talk to.”

“Any time,” Sunset said. “Even if I’m fighting a giant ursa.”

Ruby’s lips twitched upwards briefly. “But…what do you mean by ‘for now’?”

Sunset pulled her hands away from Ruby. “I…that’s why I came here. As much as I’d like to say that I came here just to see how you were doing I…I actually came here on business.”

“Hang on,” Ruby said, as she got to her feet. “Do you want some hot chocolate before we talk about that?”

Sunset hesitated. “Sure,” she said. “Do you need any help?”

“No,” Ruby said. “I got it.” She walked across the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards near the sink. On the bottom shelf sat four mugs: a black mug with Summer written in white upon it, a blue mug with Taiyang painted on it in yellow, another black mug with Ruby painted on it in a childish scrawl and a white mug with Yang daubed on it in the same shade of yellow that dad had written his name upon his own cup.

“And of course you have named mugs,” Sunset muttered. “Because this wasn’t enough of a bucolic idyll.”

“It was,” Ruby said, guessing that the words she didn’t understand were a compliment and hoping she was right. “It used to be, when…and besides, you really ought to see it in the springtime, or even better the summer. When the flowers bloom, and you can hear the cicadas. Winter…winter can be beautiful, but it’s so…so cold, you know? And I’m not just talking about the temperature.”

“I know what you mean,” Sunset said. “But even so…this looks like a nice place.”

“Like I said,” Ruby murmured. “It used to be.”

She couldn’t quite reach the other mugs on the shelf above, but as she reached one of them became enveloped by a soft green light which levitated it up off the shelf and set it down upon the counter.

“Turns out I can help a little,” Sunset said, although she didn’t interfere again as Ruby made the hot chocolate.

“It’s not as nice as…” Ruby began, as she set down Sunset’s steaming cup – marshmallows floated on the surface - in front of her. “It’s the best I can do,” she said.

Sunset picked up the mug and took a sip. “It’s perfect,” she lied, and Ruby was too grateful to call her out on it.

“How have you been?” Ruby asked. “Where have you been? How did you get out?”

“I was released,” Sunset said. “Not pardoned, but released.”

“Because they need you,” Ruby said softly. “I guess that means its worse than the news is saying.”

“The news is more about ice cream for the people than it is about facts these days,” Sunset said. “But…things are desperate, but they’re not bad, if that makes any sense.”

Ruby shook her head. “Not really.”

“People are worried, but I’m not sure how much they all have to worry about,” Sunset explained. “The grimm that were massing around the city have all dispersed, and although the outlying settlements are bothered by them – or by bandits – there hasn’t been an attack on Vale since the dust settled on the battlefield. That just hasn’t stopped people from acting as though they’re might be another attack any day now…and to be fair, I suppose there could be. It isn’t like the grimm need to give much warning.”

“And so they let you out to fight them,” Ruby said.

“Better me than someone who’s only just had their aura unlocked,” Sunset said. “Better me than some kid fresh out of combat school, or not even that.”

“Huh?”

“It was an idea,” Sunset said. “I think it’s been kicked to the curb for the time being.”

“That’s good,” Ruby said, glad that she didn’t have to ask any more questions that might make the idea truly as bad as it sounded. “And so…you work with Cardin now?”

“Sort of,” Sunset said. “Not really. More like I work for Cardin now. He’s the man of the hour, I don’t know if you knew that.”

“I’ve seen his face on TV a couple of times,” Ruby said. “I didn’t really get it.”

“I’m not sure that he gets it himself,” Sunset replied. “But people need heroes at a time like this, and Vale doesn’t have much choice. Actually, that’s being too hard on Cardin, he’s trying his best and he never puts on airs. He knows exactly what’s going on and what he is. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that he fought in the battle and he’s still here-“

“Unlike me,” Ruby said.

Sunset frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, Sunset,” Ruby said. “I’ve been getting letters. From the Council. Except that it’s not called the Council any more, is it?”

“There is still a Council,” Sunset said. “It’s just that they’ve elevated five of them to a higher level so they can make decisions more easily. At least I think that’s the idea.”

“Whatever,” Ruby said. “I’ve been getting letters. They want me to come back to Vale. It’s about that, isn’t it?”

“It’s about all hands on deck,” Sunset said. “But, yes, it’s about the fact that Vale doesn’t have many heroes right now. They’d like to stick you in front of the cameras as much as they’d like to send you out to fight the grimm.”

Ruby nodded. “So is that why you came here? To ask me to come back with you?”

“It’s what I think Cardin’s hoping I’ll do,” Sunset said.

Ruby looked away. “I can’t, Sunset; I…I can’t go back. Dad needs me here, I can’t just leave him.”

“And if you could,” Sunset said. “Would you even want to go back?”

Ruby was silent for a little while. “What I did…what if I don’t want to make a choice like that again.”

“Being a huntress doesn’t mean you’ll have to,” Sunset murmured.

“Doesn’t it?” Ruby asked. “What if I went back and I ended up in a situation like that again. I don’t want that. After what happened I…I don’t know if I could.”

Sunset nodded. “I get it. I’m sorry to hear that but I get it.”

Ruby stared at her. “So, if you didn’t come here to ask me to fight for Vale then why? It wasn’t just to see me, was it?”

“It probably should have been,” Sunset admitted. “But you’re right. I came here…I came here to ask you to go Anima, since I can’t.”

“Anima?” Ruby said. “Why do you want me to go Anima? Is it Jaune and Pyrrha, are they in some kind of trouble, do they need help?”

“No,” Sunset said. “At least I don’t think so. Or I hope not. I haven’t heard anything from Jaune and Pyrrha.”

“No news is good news, or at least I hope it is,” Ruby murmured. “Do you think they’re okay? Do you think they made it to Mistral?”

“I’m sure they did,” Sunset said. She turned in her seat and looked out of the window. “I’m sure they’re doing just fine their. They’ve got one another, after all.”

“Just like Penny and Blake have all their friends in Atlas,” Ruby said. “It’s good that everybody has someone.” Except me. “So if it isn’t Jaune or Pyrrha, then what’s in Anima? Why do you want me to go there?”

“Professor Ozpin, apparently,” Sunset said, making Ruby choke on her hot chocolate. “My reaction exactly.”

“Professor Ozpin’s dead,” Ruby said. “Sure, they never found a body but…but they never found Yang either, but neither of them would stay away for so long without…they’d come back if they could.”

“I’m sure she would,” Sunset agreed. “But with Professor Ozpin…as Professor Goodwitch explained it to me before I came to see you, Professor Ozpin has been reincarnated, in a manner of speaking. He can’t ever die, even when his bodies do. Professor Ozpin is dead but his soul lives on in another.”

“In Anima?”

“She seems to think so,” Sunset said. “Since she couldn’t tell Jaune or Pyrrha before they left it’s up to…someone has to go and find him and help him bring some order to the chaos.”

“And that’s what you want me to do?” Ruby said.

“I don’t know,” Sunset said. “I don’t know if I want you to do it. I don’t really want to ask you to set out for Mistral all by yourself, chasing such a slender thread as that. But if what Professor Goodwitch says is true then his…new host might not be able to cope on his own.”

“And so we can’t just leave him, or them, out there,” Ruby murmured. She clenched her hands into fists. “Why him?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“Why does Professor Ozpin get to come back?” Ruby said. “I know that he’s a good man, and wise, but why does he get to cheat death when…why is he the one who gets to return?”

“Professor Goodwitch described it as a curse.”

“Is that what you think?” Ruby said. “That living on is a curse?”

Sunset shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “No,” she said. “Nor does the other immortal I know.”

“Princess Celestia?”

“Though she can see how it might feel that way,” Sunset murmured. “It’s not his fault.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “I just…it feels so…that he can come back while Yang has to stay…gone.”

Sunset frowned. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“No,” Ruby said firmly. “I…I’m glad you did. I wanted to see you. I wanted to know that you were okay. I just…I know why you came here, and I know that…I just don’t know if I can.”

“That’s understandable.”

“What will you do,” Ruby asked. “If I say no?”

Sunset exhaled loudly. “At this point I have no idea. Are you not saying no?”

“Not yet,” Ruby said. “How long do I have to think about it?”

“Cardin’s not coming to pick me up until tomorrow.”

“So you’re staying the night?”

“Well, I won’t impose,” Sunset said. “I can camp outside-“

“You’re not going to camp in the woods outside our house,” Ruby declared. “I’ll get the guest room ready.” She got up, and opened the kitchen door before stepping through it into the living room.

“I still don’t know whether to thank your friend or throw her out of the house,” Taiyang said from where she stood beside the now open doorway.

Ruby looked at him. “Dad? Where you listening to everything we said in there?”

Zwei barked, sounding a little too happy about it.

“I was worried about what she was doing here,” Taiyang said. “I thought she’d been sent by the Council to take you back some how. Instead I find that she’s been sent by Glynda to take you back instead.” His tone made it hard to work out whether that was an important difference for him or not.

“Did…did you know?” Ruby asked. “About Professor Ozpin?”

Taiyang nodded. “I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t see the point, it wasn’t Oz’s death that was upsetting you,” Taiyang said. “And besides, I thought Glynda would have it covered. I didn’t realise that she’d cover it by involving you.”

“Technically, she didn’t,” Sunset said. “She asked me to go. I asked Ruby because I’m in…straitened circumstances at the moment.”

“That’s why I don’t know whether to thank you or throw you out,” Taiyang said, looking around the door at Sunset over the top of Ruby’s head.

“I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to do it,” Ruby said.

“I know you haven’t, Ruby,” Taiyang said softly. “But I think you should.”

“Huh?” Ruby said, the only sound that she was able to get out in the surprise the overtook and overwhelmed her to hear her dad say that. He wanted her to go? He wanted her to leave? He wanted to be left all alone? “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you deserve better than to spend the rest of your life waiting on your father,” Taiyang said. He put one arm upon her back, and gently steered Ruby into the living room towards the couch. “I know that I’ve been…I know that I haven’t really around lately.” He said, as the two of them sat down. “And I know that you’ve had to step up, the way that…the way that Yang stepped up after your mother passed away. But that isn’t something that you should have to do just because I’m too upset to take care of myself.”

“But I do,” Ruby said. “I can’t just leave you all on your own.”

“I’ll manage,” Taiyang said. “If I have to make the effort to take care of myself then maybe I’ll actually do it. I’ll be okay, Ruby; I’m a grown man, I shouldn’t be relying on my sixteen year old daughter to do everything for me. And I’m sorry that I’ve put all that upon you just because I couldn’t get myself together.”

“Just a little while ago you wouldn’t even eat what I put in front of you,” Ruby said. “So what changed?”

“What changed is that you had somewhere to go,” Taiyang said. “When you came back…I was just so glad to have one of my girls home safe, even if Yang wasn’t ever coming home. But now…I loved your mother and I loved Yang and the fact that I lost both of them now to duty and the life of a huntress, it…but I don’t think either of them would have wanted you to spend the rest of your life cooped up inside this house withering away with grief and nothing but a sad old man to keep you company.

“When your mother died I…I shut everyone out: Oz, Glynda, Qrow, even my own children. I…I don’t want to see you do the same. Find your friends, find Oz; live.”

“And leave you here all alone?”

“You could go together, if you wanted,” Sunset said from where she stood in the kitchen doorway. “I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t.”

“No,” Taiyang said. “If you decide to do this, Ruby, then I’ll go to Vale. It sounds as though they could use huntsmen. But you’re the one that Ozpin chose, the one that he trusted. I should trust you too, and I do.”

“Ozpin chose you too,” Ruby pointed out.

“Once,” Taiyang acknowledged. “But not for some time.”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” Taiyang said. He glanced at Sunset. “I’m about as certain as Miss Shimmer over there.”

“And for the same reason, I’d guess,” Sunset said.

“I worry about you,” Taiyang said. “I’m your father, so I’ll always worry about you. But if this has to be done, and I guess it does, then I can’t think of anybody better to do it than you.”

“But what if…” Ruby trailed off momentarily. “What if taking care of you isn’t the only reason why I want to stay?”

“Ruby,” Taiyang said. “I’m not telling you that you have to go. I’m just saying that you can go, and you don’t need to worry about me when you do.”

Ruby looked away. She didn’t look at Sunset either. She looked at her own hands where they rested on her knees.

She should probably go. Professor Ozpin needed her, it seems. The world might need her, even. And it would be good to get out of this house and all the memories that had turned so sour. She wanted to get away from this place, she wanted to see her friends again. She should go because…because it was the right thing to do.

But against that…against that were the thoughts of all the things that she might have to do if she went, things that she wasn’t sure she had it in her to do any more.

Yang would have told her to go, but Yang wasn’t here any more and that was because of Ruby no matter what Sunset said. It was because of Ruby and because she’d been so sure that she was right. And even if she had been right it didn’t change the fact that Yang had died because of it.

Ruby didn’t want to make those kinds of choices any more.

But how could she just walk away from all of this, when she knew what was at stake?

What should I do?

What is that I’m supposed to do?

What do I actually want to do?

Ruby only wished she knew.

Author's Note

Since there isn't going to be another update before Christmas: Merry Christmas (and a Happy New Year just in case)!

Grimm Magic

Grimm Magic

The night had fallen, the moon was up, and her father had eaten his dinner tonight.

Whether he was actually feeling substantially better than he had done earlier today or whether he was just putting on an act to make Ruby think that he was feeling better…it mattered, but at the same time she didn’t want to think about it too hard. She didn’t want to be suspicious because Ruby herself was feeling better than she had done earlier today.

She stood on the deck, her hands resting on the wooden railing that surrounded it, having just stepped out of the patio doors that led out onto the wooden boards outside. She couldn’t see much in the darkness, but she could feel the cool night air brushing against her cheeks and that was nice in itself.

Zwei barked as he rubbed himself against her leg. Ruby chuckled as she bent down and scratched him between the ears.

“I know, Zwei,” she said. “Thinks are looking a little better, aren’t they? And so is Dad; at least I hope he is.”

Zwei barked.

“Yeah, you’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you?” Ruby said. She tilted her head to one side. “I think…I think that I’ve almost got it.”

“Am I intruding?” Sunset asked, as she appeared in the patio doorway, hands resting on the frame, leaning out slightly onto the deck.

Ruby smiled as she rose to her full height, what there was of it. “No, it’s fine. Come on out.”

Sunset stepped outside, the deck board creeking as he put her boot on it. “So…is this what people have when they don’t have a balcony?”

Ruby shrugged. “I guess. It’s a nice place, though, even if it is on the ground.”

“I suppose it’s nicer in the day when you actually see two feet in front of your face,” Sunset said, coming to stand by Ruby at the rail.

“I thought you could use magic to help you see.”

“I could,” Sunset said. “But it makes my eyes look weird and it might make us talking a little awkward.”

That actually made Ruby curious to see what Sunset’s eyes would look like, but she let it go. “It is better when you can see,” she conceded. “But the breeze is cool.”

“In more ways than one, it seems,” Sunset said.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ruby said. She looked out into the dark that blanketed the land all around them; the moonlight was faint, and the only real illumination was the light spilling out of the house, casting their shadows on the ground beyond. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Sunset asked.

“For coming,” Ruby said. “Everything…everything feels a little better now because of you.” She reached out, and placed a hand on top of Sunset’s where it rested on the wooden rail. “It’s good to see you again, Sunset.”

Sunset glanced at her, and Ruby almost that she looked surprised to hear that before she smiled in turn. “It’s good to see you too, Ruby; it’s good to be here because…because this is what we’re fighting for, really, and it’s good to be reminded of that. But to see you…I’m glad Professor Goodwitch gave me the excuse to come down here. I’m sorry that I can’t stay longer…and I’m sorry that we won’t have this chance again for a while, one way or the other.”

Ruby frowned. “Where are you going next?”

Sunset shrugged. “Wherever Cardin tells me to go. That’s my life now: go where he tells me to go, fight who he tells me to fight, then go back to Vale to submit my report and get my new orders. Rinse and repeat.”

“Sounds more like being a soldier than a huntress,” Ruby said.

Sunset chuckled. “We are soldiers, Ruby. Vale is becoming the new Atlas. Trying to, at least. The new Atlas as interpreted by people who don’t really get Atlas.”

“You don’t like it?” Ruby asked. She certainly wasn’t making it sound great.

“I think…” Sunset trailed off for a moment. “You remember our missions with Rosepetal, right?”

“It’s only been a few months, Sunset, my memory isn’t that bad,” Ruby said.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sunset said. “My point is…they weren’t much different from us. What makes Atlas great is the same as what makes any kingdom great: good people. People like Rainbow Dash.”

“And Penny,” Ruby added.

“Yeah, and Blake,” Sunset said. “You don’t need to invent half a dozen different institutions and throw all your ideas at the wall…you just need to find the good people, and get them in the right place.”

“Where they can make the right decisions,” Ruby murmured.

Sunset winced. “Well…you’d hope.”

Ruby watched as her breath misted up slightly in front of her. “If I had to choose,” she said. “I’d make the same choice again.”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I kinda figured that one out for myself.”

“Do you think that’s wrong of me?”

“Do you really want to hear what I think about a choice like that?”

Ruby snorted. “Yeah, strange as it sounds I do.”

Sunset looked away. “I have to admit that I don’t ever think that I could ever do that. Make that sacrifice. Even now, I still don’t like the idea of making sacrifices. I’d prefer to…to act as though I can always find a middle way, that avoids having to make any of the hard choices. I suppose that makes you clearer sighted than me. Your choice…your choice is yours, and it shows that…it shows you haven’t lost who you are.”

“Yeah,” Ruby whispered. “That’s what I’m…that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Afraid?”

“Maybe that wasn’t the right word,” Ruby admitted. “The point is…when you didn’t like the results of the choice you made you could tell yourself that you’d made the wrong choice, that you’d learn from your mistakes and do better next time; and you did. But I…I can’t say that because, even though I hate the choice that I made, I still know it was the right choice, and the choice I’d make again. So all I can do is stay here, so that I don’t ever have to make a choice like that again.”

“Even in our line of work choices like that aren’t common,” Sunset said.

“Two in one year,” Ruby pointed out.

“Point taken,” Sunset said. “So…is this your way of telling me that you’re out.”

“No,” Ruby said. “It’s your way of telling you that I might want to be.” The night seemed to be growing darker outside. She could barely see the shadows she and Sunset were casting on the ground. Ruby focussed on what she was saying. “But the world hasn’t stopped while I’ve been here, has it? Vale is changing, you’re fighting alongside…alongside Cinder.” She couldn’t quite believe that Cinder, of all people, was the one that Sunset trusted, but it just went to show that everybody was doing something about the state of the world except her. “Pyrrha and Jaune are in Mistral by now, I hope, and if they made it safely I’m sure that they’re not sitting around either. Blake and Penny are in Atlas, and I’m sure they’re working hard too along with Rainbow and Twilight and everybody else. Everyone is trying to put the world back together except me and I think…I think that if Yang were here she’d ask me what was up with that.

“If this…if this is the thing that I can do,” Ruby said. “Then I’ll do it.”

Sunset looked down at her. “I…I don’t know whether to wish you luck or urge you not to go along with. It’s going to be a long road to travel by yourself.”

Zwei barked.

“Dogs don’t count,” Sunset said. “Are you really going to take the dog?”

“Probably not,” Ruby said. “I don’t want to leave dad all alone.”

Zwei whined.

“I can do this,” Ruby assured Sunset. “I’ll find a way, trust me.”

“I do,” Sunset said. “You’ve got the heart of a hero, Ruby Rose; I shouldn’t ever have doubted that you’d choose this.”

“No, you should,” Ruby said. “I almost chose the other.”

“But you didn’t,” Sunset said. “The choices we think about…they don’t really matter compared to the choices that we make.” She paused. “Hey, Ruby, is it me or is getting even darker.”

Ruby nodded. “It is…kind of weird,” she murmured squinting out at the darkness and the gathering gloom that only seemed to growing more intense all around her. “It’s almost like-“

“Smoke,” Sunset said, her eyes reflecting light off them as though they were suddenly made of glass, or like she was a cat or something; that must have been what she meant when she said that using magic did weird things to her eyes. “There’s smoke coming from…Ruby, I think we’d better-“

Something emerged out of the gathering darkness, a blur of movement that hit Sunset hard enough to send her flying backwards into the house, smashing through the glass of the patio door – both of them, stacked one in front of the other since the door was open – before crashing into the living room wall.

The kick that sent Zwei flying off into the darkness seemed almost idle by comparison.

“Ruby!” Taiyang called from upstairs. “What’s going on?”

Ruby was speechless as the blur of motion resolved itself into a man, tall and rangy with his hair worn in a long braid reaching down towards his back. He was dressed in a brown leather jacket that was open, exposing a chest criss-crossed with scars. His eyes were golden, and seemed to gleam with a strange unnatural light, especially when combined with the crooked smile that played across his features.

“My, my,” he said. “I came to pluck a rose and found a sunset too, such good-“

He was interrupted by Sunset telekinetically throwing the couch at him; he grabbed it, turning on his toes before converting it into a throw at Ruby that knocked her through the deck railing; she skidded on the grass as she slowed to a stop.

The intruder started towards her, but recoiled as a beam of green energy erupted out of the living room in front of him, singeing the wall as it passed by into the darkness. Sunset teleported in a flash of green light, appearing between the intruder and Ruby. She had her sword in one hand and Crescent Rose in the other, and she had teleported with her back to the intruder so that she could throw Ruby’s weapon to her. “Ruby, here, take this.” She tossed the scythe and started to turn, shifting into stance, her now-free hand reaching for the hilt of her blade.

The intruder was much faster.

“Well, if you want to be the first to die,” he said, as he slashed at Sunset’s back and side as she was turning, slashing at her with the claw-like blades attached to his wrist that sliced through her aura as Sunset staggered backwards. He was so fast that even Pyrrha would have had a hard time keeping up with him and Sunset had no chance at all, by the time she tried to block his strokes he had already made his attack and was moving onto the next. He flipped, balancing nimbly upon one hand as with his legs he kicked Sunset’s sword out of her hand and then kicked upwards, striking Sunset on the chin hard enough to propel her upwards.

“Sunset!” Ruby cried.

The intruder leapt, his own leap carrying him higher than Sunset and faster too, carrying him to the lip of the roof of the Xiao Long-Rose house, which lip he kicked off to meet Sunset as she rose, his claws slicing out again as he bore her down face first into the deck which shattered into splinters of wood beneath the impact. The intruder giggled as the splinters settled.

But now this guy had his back to Ruby, and Crescent Rose was in her hand and there was no one between the two of them.

Ruby scowled as she took aim and fired.

A scorpion tail emerged from underneath the intruder’s jacket to block the shot, and the next, and the one after that. And all the while he kept on giggling.

Snarling, Ruby got to her feet and charged; the blade of Crescent Rose glinted in the moonlight as she brought it down upon the intruder’s back.

He twisted out of the way, leaving Ruby – eyes widening – to try and turn her stroke aside as the point of her scythe descended on Sunset.

The intruder kicked her in the gut while she was distracted. Ruby let out an ‘oof’ as she was lifted off her feet and into the air. With another kick the intruder wrenched Crescent Rose out of her grip while his scorpion tail lashed out to wrap around her neck, constricting like a snake around her throat as the intruder, his eyes flashing purple, made to strike at her with his claw blades.

“RUBY!”

The intruder had been fast enough to dodge Ruby’s stroke, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Taiyang’s fist as Ruby’s father charged out of the living room. His first punch decked the intruder on the jaw, making him drop Ruby to the ground with a thud as he staggered backwards. Ruby caught a glimpse of her father’s face, wearing an expression of sheer unbridled fury that she had never seen, nor ever thought to see, upon his face.

It was sometimes easy to forget that Dad had once been a great huntsman alongside Mom and Uncle Qrow, when you were used to him just pottering around the house, tending to the garden, teaching a few classes at Signal. But just looking into his eyes in the brief moment, seeing those blue eyes boiling with a murderous rage, Ruby knew that she wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

His second punch hit the intruder squarely on the nose, snapping his head back before the third punch hit him in the gut.

The intruder retreated a few paces, cackling wildly. “So, a true hunts-“

Taiyang hit him again.

Ruby watched them fight in the lights streaming out of the house with a wide-eyed awe. The speed of the intruder that had so confounded both Sunset and herself seemed to make no difference at all to her father, who matched him blow for blow, blocking his claws and staying well away from his legs. Dad had taught Yang how to fight, a style of straight-forward boxing amplified in Yang’s case by her Ember Celica; but even though Dad had no shotgun-gauntlets what he did have was a mastery of the style that Yang had only begun to learn before cruel fate had taken her away.

Sunset getting to her knees, summoned both her sword and Sol Invictus to her with her magic, but when she put the rifle to her shoulder she could only scowl and mutter, “He’s blocking my shots.”

Ruby groped for Crescent Rose in the darkness. “Sunset, can you-“

“Sure,” Sunset said, and Ruby spotted Crescent Rose by the green glow that enveloped it before it flew into her hands. She turned the barrel to the ground and used the recoil to lift herself up and onto the roof of her house, hoping that the added height would give her an advantage in finding a clear shot. It didn’t; Taiyang and the intruder’s fight was too fluid, it moved around too readily for her to ever be able to fire and be sure of hitting her enemy and not her father.

All she could do was watch, but as she watched it became clear that her dad really didn’t need her help. The intruder, whoever he was, was only occasionally able to land a hit on him while Dad’s fists, striking out right and left, were continuously hitting home, hammering his opponent to the face, the shoulders, the chest. Soon the intruder’s aura broken, a purple light that flickered over his entire body before another punch from Taiyang broke his nose and knocked him flat on the ground.

It was when he straddled the intruder and started raining blows down on him that Ruby realised that she was about to watch her father beat a man to death with his bare hands.

Considering that that man in question had been pretty clear about his intent to murder Sunset – not to mention Ruby herself – that didn’t bother her as much as it maybe should have.

Taiyang bellowed as he raised his fist for another blow, before a burst of purple light – or energy, she guessed – flew out of the shadows and struck him in the chest, hurling him off the intruder and away as the dark smoke, gathering around the house, crept closer still, smothering the intruder in its embrace, hiding him from Ruby’s view.

Hiding him from Sunset’s view as well, judging by the way that she fired into the smoke with no indication that she was hitting anything.

“Don’t waste your fire,” Taiyang snapped. “Wait.”

Sunset growled wordless. “Understood, sir.”

Taiyang picked himself up and began to retreat slowly towards the house. “What is this?” he muttered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ruby breathed out. Her breath misted up in front of her, and far more so than it had done before. She breathed in, and breathed out again to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. No, it was definitely misting up more than it had done. She shivered. It was getting colder out here, as the smoke grew thicker around them; but it wasn’t just the cold that was making her shiver. As she looked out into that smoke, into that cloud that her eyes couldn’t penetrate, she felt…she felt a shiver in her soul.

“Dad,” she said.

“I feel it too,” Taiyang said.

“And me,” Sunset said. “Do grimm make emotions now?”

“We have to stay sharp,” Taiyang said. “Be ready for anything.”

Ruby put her eye to the scope of Crescent Rose, and tried to penetrate the darkness.

“Took you long enough!” the intruder, concealed somewhere in the smoke and shadow, complained audibly.

In answer there came a soft, sibilant sniggering sound, a hissing laugh that seemed to carry with it some contempt.

From out of the smoke emerged a grimm; for a moment Ruby thought that it was a karkadann, the creature that Sunset, Jaune and Pyrrha had fought in Mistral during the spring break when she hadn’t been able to go with them. But this grimm, that came out of the smoke almost as if it was being formed by the smoke itself, did not – as she realised after a moment of observing it – look that much like a karkadann other than that they both kind of looked like a horse; this creature only had a single hoof at the end of each leg, for a start, and it’s horn – although curved like a sword – was not so long as the horn of a karkadann; and it was black rather than being bone white. Horn aside, this grimm looked very much like a horse; strangely, despite the fact that it was huge, it had very little bone armour or spikes sticking out of it, but was mostly black like a juvenile grimm; the only bone was the mask on its face, and the fangs jutting out of both jaws.

But that was not the strangest thing about this apparition; no, the strangest thing was that from its eyes burned crimson anima, like Amber and Cinder had possessed.

Does this mean that…is this a grimm with magic? How is that even possible?

The grimm tossed its head. “Rrrrruby…Rrrrrose,” it hissed.

“No,” Sunset whispered. “No, that…is that what he saw?”

“Sssssssunsssset…Ssssshimmerrrr.”

“How does it know our names?” Ruby asked.

“How is it talking?” Taiyang said.

“Good questions,” Sunset growled. “Which we can think about once its dead.” She raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and snapped off one shot, two, three.

They might have hit the grimm, or they might not; it was hard to tell. What was clear is that they did the grimm no harm at all, Sunset might as well have been spitting at it for all the actual good that it did her. The grimm hissed wordlessly, and its horn began to glow with a purple light of the kind that had erupted out of the smoke – that same smoke, Ruby noticed now, that was pooling around the hooves of this strange grimm – before it fired from its horn a beam of light aimed straight at Sunset.

Sunset dropped her gun and held both hands before her, conjuring a shield of green light against which the purple beam lapped harmlessly like the waves upon the shore.

Harmless save for the effort that it seemed to be taking Sunset to maintain the shield. Her back was bent like an old tree before the storm, her legs were crouched as though she was bracing against something, and when Ruby looked more closely she could see to her astonishment that Sunset was actually being pushed slowly backwards along the ground towards the house.

“Ruby!” Sunset said. “I’ve got an idea but you’re going to have to keep him busy for a little bit, okay?”

Ruby nodded. “You got it!” she declared, as she leapt down off the roof of the house, spinning in the air before landing on her feet facing this unknown grimm. She spun Crescent Rose in her hands before pointing it at the giant equine monster and snapping off a trio of shots in its direction.

They had as little effect as Sunset’s rounds had had, but they got the grimm’s attention. It turned its burning, possibly magical – that possibly was becoming more and more a ‘certainly’ in Ruby’s mind, because what else could that purple energy be? – eyes in Ruby’s direction.

This isn’t like the dragon. I’m not doing this because I don’t have a plan. I’m doing this because Sunset does.

Ruby leapt at the grimm, Crescent Rose cutting through the air as the wind began to change direction, ruffling through her hair and tugging at her crimson cape. The grimm reared up, hissing, so that the blow which had been intended to cut through its leg only succeeded in scratching it, to no visible effect but a hiss of anger from the creature. Ruby landed, and saw the hoof on the leg that she had scratched descending on her like a hammer from above; she rolled away but the hoof struck the ground with a sound like the ringing of a great bell and the earth trembled. Ruby snapped off another shot, but with the ground shaking she might have missed.

The grimm snapped at her in turn, bringing its head down and closing its jaws around the empty air as Ruby leapt away, slashing at the grimm’s face with Crescent Rose; the blade scraped across the bone a moment before Taiyang assailed the grimm in turn, driving his fist into his face just below one of those burning eyes. The fire in those eyes seemed to leap still higher as its horn began to glow once more. A beam of purple leapt from the horn, burning a trench in the earth as it scoured the ground in search of its enemies. Ruby leapt away, but her father was not so fast and was struck a second time by the grimm’s magic and blasted backwards with a cry of pain.

“Dad!” Ruby yelled, firing every last shot she had in her magazine right into the grimm’s face before she leapt at it again, Crescent Rose swinging.

The grimm almost seemed to laugh as she swung her blade straight for that curved horn that jutted out of his head.

The scythe-blade struck.

There was a flash of purple light.

Ruby felt burning pain ripple up her entire body as her aura was ripped away, she flew through the air as she was blasted backwards to land in a heap, the rising wind washing over her.

Thunder rolled in the sky above as the grimm hissed. “Ssssslavessss.”

Beowolves howled as they emerged from the smoke at a run, their red eyes gleaming in the darkness even before their oily bodies and their bony faces became visible. They advanced quickly upon the huntsmen, but the howl of the beowolves was met by an answering bark as Zwei, too, emerged from out of the smoke to assail the beowolves from behind. He leapt onto the back of the nearest beowolf and began to bite its neck out.

Ruby didn’t know exactly how much aura she had left but she had enough aura left to fight. She swept around the battlefield in a wide arc, trailing rose petals in her wake upon the dusting of snow that still lay upon the ground as she cut down beowolves before slashing at the hind legs of the grimm. She dodged its first attempt to kick her, but when it stamped its hoof upon the ground she stumbled and allowed it to kick her away. Instantly a beowolf was on top of her, but Zwei was only a step behind and leapt upon the beowolf, bearing it backwards and away from Ruby.

“Ruby,” Sunset shouted. “Sir, get back.”

The winds had risen quickly, they were almost a gale now and as for the storm clouds rising over head where had they come from? Ruby looked at Sunset, and when she saw her partner standing there, arms raised on either side, the wind blowing past her, making her tail and hair stream, as she saw the shimmering golden wings emerging on either side of her back as though she had become a butterfly during the course of the battle, then Ruby understood.

It was harder than she had expected to do as Sunset had bidden, because the wind pushed against her and buffeted her, and even with her super speed she could feel the tempest blowing her back in the opposite direction, but with effort she and her father both made it behind Sunset and her glowing golden wings.

Sunset’s brow was set with concentration as the wind blew in the face of the horse grimm, trying to blow away the black smoke that seemed to spread from it; and as the storm clouds gathered overhead a torrent of lightning descended from those black clouds, some of it striking the beowolves as they were blown away but most of it falling upon the horse grimm, hammering and spearing it even as the grimm was hit by logs torn from the roof of Ruby’s house by the strength of the winds that Sunset had called up.

The grimm shrieked, it seemed that where Ruby’s blows had done nothing Sunset’s magic was actually causing it harm. It shrieked in pain, and as it shrieked it fired a beam of purple energy straight towards Sunset.

Sunset responded by throwing out her hands and firing a beam of her own magic, a broad beam as wide as a tree trunk, right back towards the grimm.

The two beams met, and Sunset grunted with effort as she leaned forward, looking as though she were trying to push a rock forwards along the ground.

The grimm hissed with effort, and bowed his head as though it, too, were pushing.

The two beams pushed against one another, the white light where the two beams met moved a little in the direction of Sunset, and then a little in the direction of the grimm.

And then it began to move, inexorably, in the direction of Sunset. Inch by inch the green light was overwhelmed by the purple, and process of the overwhelming seemed to only grow more swift the closer it got to Sunset herself.

Sunset’s eyes widened as her beam of magic was overwhelmed and the grimm’s own magic struck her square in the chest, bearing her backwards, lifting her up into the air.

“NO!” Ruby screamed, as she saw Sunset’s aura start to flicker and die the way that Yang’s had flickered when in the ursa’s mouth.

She’d already lost her sister, she couldn’t lose Sunset too.

Ruby screamed, and as she screamed her eyes exploded with a brilliant silver light that consumed the entire world, drowning out all other sights and sounds until there was nothing left but silver light and white noise.

Red Pill

Red Pill

Sunset closed her eyes as she fell to the ground, the magic of the grimm withering in the silver light before it could break her aura and, the magic throwing her backwards broken, she ceased to move back but simply dropped like a rock onto the ground.

She closed her eyes against the blinding light that came from Ruby’s, but nevertheless the light burned through her eyelids, consuming all that she could see no matter which way she turned her head. It was like looking into the sun, only she couldn’t turn away. It was everywhere, and everything.

And then it was gone.

“Ruby!”

Sunset opened her eyes, once she thought that she could do so without losing the ability to see. The clouds of her own pegasus magic were starting to disperse, but slowly; they were drifting apart under the night breeze; as Sunset leapt to her feet she could see that the same breeze, equally slowly, was dispersing the smoke that had and still surrounded the Xiao Long-Rose cabin.

Ruby was on her knees, head bowed forwards, chin resting on her chest. She looked as though she was sleeping, and it was more pleasant to think that she was sleeping than that she had put herself in a coma again through use of her eyes.

More pleasant to think that she was sleeping than that she had put herself in a coma to save Sunset.

I need to get better at using my new powers.

Ruby’s father was already by her side – it had been his shout that Sunset had heard as he ran to her – kneeling beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ruby,” he shouted. “Ruby, can you hear me?” He cursed as he got no response from her, confirming (to Sunset as well as to himself) that she was out of it for the foreseeable future, again.

Sunset left him to take care of Ruby. Not that she wasn’t worried about her – she didn’t know whether to thank Ruby or tell her not to be so stupid – but there was no point in everybody crowding around her; plus Sunset wasn’t sure how close Taiyang would want her to get to Ruby right now. She would neither be surprised nor would she blame Taiyang if he blamed her for this. After all they’d been living quite quietly together until Sunset Shimmer showed up to bring trouble back into their lives.

So she left Ruby to her father – and her dog who trotted up to the pair of them, tongue hanging out of his mouth – while Sunset turned her attention to the effects of Ruby’s eyes.

The smoke was dispersing, but there was no sign of that guy with the scorpion tail; she guessed that his beating at the hands of Taiyang had left him reluctant to take his shot again, even though he wasn’t likely to get a better chance than this. Hopefully he’d already withdrawn…somewhere else. Back to where he’d came from. Back to Salem, most likely.

Or he was licking his wounds before he tried again. Let him do that, so long as he wasn’t actively attacking them at a point where they were pretty vulnerable himself, with Ruby out of it, Taiyang distracted, and Sunset having already shown that she was no match for him.

Not right now, not in close at any rate.

I need to get better, I need to get more versatile. If I’m going to make use of pegasus magic then I need to learn to fight like a pegasus.

I can’t rely on Ruby just using her silver eyes until they get her killed.

Their effectiveness in this particular instance, however, could not be denied: where before there had been a small horde of grimm bent upon their destruction now there was a garden of stone to decorate the grass around the house that Ruby shared with her father, beowolves turned to snarling gargoyles to glare with sightless eyes towards the wooden building.

And in their midst, towering over all the others like the statuary centrepiece of some grand work of art, stood the grimm who had led them. The grimm who had spoken their names. The grimm who had wielded magic.

What was this thing?

It looked like a unicorn, or rather it looked like some of the more monstrous unicorn-derived creatures who menaced Equestria either in fact or folklore, like the Pony of Shadows or something like that.

It wasn’t impossible that a grimm could take such a shape, she’d just come from a fight with a grimm pegasus after all, but how could it speak? How could it speak and how could it use magic? That was what it was, it had to be; it wasn’t Equestrian magic, which meant that it must be Remnant magic, it felt the same as the magic that sustained the grimm itself, only most of them couldn’t actively channel it like that. The magic sustained them but they could not use magic; how was it that this grimm could? What was it?

And was it still alive under that layer of stone?

A crack appeared in the stone shell; it was very small, but it made a noise loud enough to split the quiet night. With her night vision still engaged Sunset could see it, a hairline fracture that began to spread before her eyes.

A chip of stone fell from the grimm to land upon the ground, and underneath she could see the black skin of the grimm itself.

Definitely alive under there, with the only question being how long it would take to get out.

And what could be done about it in the meantime?

Do I have enough magic for a dispel? She definitely didn’t have enough for the kind of mass dispel that she’d used at the battle of Vale, but Sunset wasn’t concerned with the beowolves right now; she was fairly certain that if they were still alive under there they nevertheless weren’t getting out any time soon.

It was the grimm that was getting out right before her very eyes that concerned her.

Sunset cast the counterspell.

Nothing happened. The grimm was quite visible still there, and the cracks were spreading slowly up the stone.

What that-? How could it be so unaffected by it? Why was it still here? Why hadn’t the counterspell disrupted the magic holding the creature together?

Because, as Sunset discovered when she stretched out her senses towards it, this creature wasn’t made of magic, as other grimm were.

Which meant that it was…that it was truly alive.

Was this thing even a real grimm? Was it something else pretending to be one, aping the look of the creatures of grim even as it was something different altogether?

That would explain how it talks and how it has-

Another crack fell off the stone.

Yeah, think about what it is later; think about what you can about it now.

Sunset dismissed the idea of attacking it; she had a sinking feeling that would only hasten its emergence from the stone cocoon into which Ruby had condemned it; she didn’t want to do anything to get it out faster. And she couldn’t just wipe it away by disrupting its magic because there was something more than magic in there. Which meant that she could…she could…

Yes! That’s it!

Sunset knelt down, put one hand on the ground, and cast Displace.

It was not a spell that she would have put much stock into in ordinary circumstances; she’d always regarded it as more of a practical joke than serious magic: why put a bucket of water above a door when you could cast a spell that would displace the water out of the bucket and into the air above the victim’s head whenever you wanted it to? It was a little like teleportation for inanimate objects and, like actual teleportation, you couldn’t use it to phase things into one another; which was why Sunset used the spell to disperse a yawning pit’s worth of earth under the feet of the grimm, if grimm it was, into the air above it’s head.

This had the beneficial side effect of opening up a yawning pit under the feet of the grimm, into which it dropped with a heavy thud a moment before a pit’s worth of earth appeared over its head to shower down upon it, burying it beneath the ground. Only a modest rise in the disturbed earth showed where it was.

Have fun getting out of that, I just hope you can’t do it too fast.

Not that she wanted to stick around and time it. Sunset ignored the weakening in her legs, the overall desire for rest that was stealing over her body, and summoned her gun and sword into her hands. “Sir, we have to go,” she said, taking a step towards Taiyang and Ruby.

Taiyang looked up at Sunset, who was glad to see that there wasn’t any visible anger towards her in his eyes. “That thing,” he said. “It knew her. It knew both of you.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “That’s why I don’t want to be around here when it gets out of that hole. We should get Ruby to-“

“Beacon,” Taiyang said. “Ruby needs to rest, but not in a hospital. If she’s being hunted then Beacon is the only place safe enough to stop.”

“Okay,” Sunset said; she wasn’t as sure as he was about Beacon’s overall safety – it had just been attacked by grimm a few months ago, after all – but it had the advantage of being a long way away from Patch. “We’ll get clear of here and then I’ll call-“

She was interrupted – again – by the whine of a bullhead’s engines as the airship cleared the trees, breaking through the clouds that Sunset had conjured, its lights illuminating the darkness as it descended straight downwards, engines blowing at the grass as the ship dropped.

It came to a stop about a foot above the ground, hovering not far from the house and not far from them either.

The right-side hatch began to drop. Cinder had leapt out before it had even finished doing so, running across the grass. “Sunset! You-“ she noticed the stone beowolves as she stopped running. “Oh.”

“Cinder?” Sunset said. The hatch on the Bullhead had dropped completely now, and Sunset could see that Sami, Jack and Emerald were all inside. “What are you doing here?”

“We came to warn you that Ruby was in danger,” Cinder said. “We appear to be a little late.”

“I’m glad to see you all the same, really glad,” Sunset said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Is Cardin flying the Bullhead?”

“Yes,” Cinder said. Her voice dropped a little. “He saw the silver light. We all saw it. He’ll want an explanation.”

“I’ll…I’ll think of something,” Sunset said, strongly considering the truth. “But first we need to go. Sir, if you-“ she glanced back, but Taiyang was already way ahead of her. He picked up Ruby in his arms – she looked so small – and carried her at a run towards the Bullhead, Zwei running at his heels.

Sunset and Cinder followed behind him.

“You couldn’t defeat a few beowolves without relying on Ruby and her special eyes?” Cinder asked. When Sunset didn’t respond the mocking smile faded from her face. “It found you, didn’t it? Where is it now?”

“Buried, for the moment,” Sunset replied tersely. They reached the Bullhead together, leaping inside. Sunset gave a glance to see that Taiyang – still holding Ruby- had settled at the back of the airship, before she dived into the cockpit and took the free seat next to Cardin.

“Get us in the air,” she said.

“Sunset, what are all those stone grimm out there?” Cardin asked, gesturing out the window. He glanced behind him. “And what happened to Ruby, is she going to be okay?”

“Ruby will be fine once we get to Beacon,” Sunset said. “You need to get us in the air.”

“Beacon? What are you talking about?”

“Get us in the air, Cardin.”

“We came to warn you,” Cardin said. “The kid you rescued from that patrol started talking. He told us a grimm had-“

“A grimm had spoken to him, and knew Ruby’s name,” Sunset said. “Yes, I know, but I am still very grateful that you came because we could really use an airlift right now.”

“There was a light,” Cardin said. “A silver light, on approach-“

“Cardin!” Sunset snapped, because she had just seen the earth mound marking the spot at which she had buried the grimm move a little. “Cardin, later on I will tell you everything you want to know and a few things that I almost guarantee you won’t, but right now a grimm that talks and is so strong that the three of us together couldn’t kill it is about to crawl out of that hole so can we please get up in the air and get to Beacon?”

A beam of purple energy erupted out of the earth, scattering dirt upwards as the beam of light split the clouds and chased away the darkness.

“What the-“

“Now!” Sunset yelled, and this time Cardin obeyed her, hauling on the stick to pull the Bullhead upwards, away from the ground and into the sky.

Sunset leaned back into her chair as the airship flew away, leaving Ruby’s house and the buried creature behind.

It was only at this point that she realised that she’d been sweating.

“What was that?” Cardin demanded. “Since when do grimm speak? Sunset, what’s going on?”

Sunset took a deep breath. “Later, okay?”

“No, not okay,” Cardin snapped. “If you know something then you have to tell me!”

“Not now,” Sunset insisted, glancing back at the other occupants of the Bullhead.

Cardin scowled. “Fine. You want to head to Beacon?”

“Yes,” Sunset said.

“What’s there?”

“Help for Ruby,” Sunset said. “But also knowledge, I hope.”

“Knowledge?”

“About what that thing was,” Sunset said. “Excuse me.” She didn’t actually give Cardin a chance to object, she just got up and left him in the cockpit – for the moment at least – as she entered the main compartment of the airship.

Ruby and Taiyang were in the back, but Cinder was near the front, leaning against the now-closed door.

“If you’re about to ask me about a grimm that can speak,” Cinder murmured. “I really don’t know anything.”

“Nothing,” Sunset repeated. “Nothing at all.”

Cinder smiled sadly. “I wasn’t Salem’s trusted lieutenant, Sunset, I just thought I was. There’s a lot about her and her works that I don’t know. Including a grimm that can speak, apparently.”

“It can do more than speak,” Sunset said.

Cinder’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Is it-“

“Still alive? Yes.”

“Not even Ruby could kill it?” Cinder said softly.

“Not even…not even Ruby, no,” Sunset whispered. “It could…it could do-“

“I saw the light, I know what it means,” Cinder said. “I don’t know anything about that either.” She fell silent. “I’m not even going to bring it up this time.”

“You just did,” Sunset said. “I don’t need more powers, I need to use the ones I have better.”

Cinder didn’t argue with that. “Do you think you have time?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Death might be your other choice,” Cinder said. “If Salem is hunting you, which it seems she is. She isn’t going to give you time to train.”

“Nobody’s dying,” Sunset said. “Especially not Ruby.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I…I don’t know yet,” Sunset said. “Let’s just hope that once we get to Beacon what this thing is.” She paused for a moment. “How about a scorpion faunus, do you know anything about that?”

“Tyrian,” Cinder growled. “Him I know.”

“Although by the sounds of it you wish you didn’t.”

“He’s insane,” Cinder said. “And insufferable because of it. And dangerous, too.”

“More dangerous than you.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said sharply. “But dangerous enough. He was there too.”

“He was,” Sunset confirmed. “Ruby’s father was about to do a number on him when the grimm showed up.”

“Pity they couldn’t have waited long enough for Mister Rose to finish him off. He’s the kind of person who would be better off dead.”

“Xiao Long.”

“Pardon?”

“His name is Xiao Long, not Rose.”

“Oh,” Cinder said. “Either way, it’s a pity.”

“It is,” Sunset agreed. “Especially since the grimm is already enough to worry about.”

By the time the airship arrived at Beacon it was past midnight, but it was still dark as the aircraft roared over Vale and headed towards the illuminating docking pads that jutted out over the cliff.

Professor Goodwitch was already waiting for them. Sunset had called her as she flew, letting the older woman know what had happened in as few words and as little detail as possible – she might trust Cardin with the truth but she didn’t trust Sami or Jack with the same – and now she stood on the edge of the landing pad, her cape fluttering in the wind that only got stronger as Cardin set her down upon the pad.

The bay door let out a hydraulic screech as it descended to let them out.

“Tai,” Professor Goodwitch said, with a rare fondness in her voice. “It’s been too long. I only wish that we could meet again under better circumstances.”

Taiyang leapt down out of the Bullhead. He was still cradling Ruby in his arms. “Likewise, Glynda.”

Professor Goodwitch glanced down at Ruby. “How is she?”

“Completely out of it,” Taiyang said. “Where can we take her?”

“The infirmary,” Professor Goodwitch said. She glanced at Sunset, and then at Cardin as he climbed out of the cockpit. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, Mister Winchester. Or should that be Captain?”

“Mister Winchester is fine, Professor,” Cardin muttered.

“Professor, is there somewhere my team can go?” she gestured to the group behind her.

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed in distaste. “The dining hall,” she said after a moment. “The vending machines still work no matter how late it is. Do you still remember the way, Miss Fall? Or were you not here long enough for it to settle in your memory?”

Cinder stared back at the Professor without a trace of shame. “I know the way, Professor, thank you for your consideration.”

“Take them there, keep an eye on them,” Sunset said softly.

“Understood,” Cinder replied.

“Follow me, Tai,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And you, Miss Shimmer.” She turned on her heel, and her boots clicked upon the stone as she led the way. Tai followed, as did Sunset and Cardin too.

Professor Goodwitch looked over her shoulder at him. “Mister Winchester-“

“If you try and stop me, Professor,” Cardin said. “Then I’m afraid that you will have to call me Captain.”

Professor Goodwitch was still for a moment, before she gave a nod that was peremptory, almost curt, and resumed her walk.

The school was dark, with barely any lights on. By the light of the moon Sunset could make out the ruined stump of what had been Beacon Tower; the rubble had been cleared away from the courtyard but the tower itself remained incomplete, stopping at jagged edges and wall fragments where the dragon had smashed it. That was the most obvious but not the only sign of the battle, however: while some of the buildings had been repaired, at least one of the dorm rooms still looked like a burned and ruined husk, the walls stained by burn marks where there were walls at all.

“This place has been through a lot,” Taiyang murmured.

“We’re making repairs as quickly as we can,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But there is still work to do. There is always more work to do.”

“It’s quiet,” Sunset said.

“It still hasn’t been decided exactly when the school will re-open,” Professor Goodwitch said. “There are many matters that remain to be settled. It’s unclear if we will be able to open this year at all. The Council has not yet made up its mind yet.”

“The Council has a lot to decide,” Cardin said.

“Yes, but I would hope that the training of our future huntsmen and huntresses would be considered a priority,” Professor Goodwitch replied, without looking over her shoulder.

“So, it’s just the professors here right now?” Sunset asked.

“Indeed, Miss Shimmer.”

That explained why there were so few lights on anywhere. Sunset supposed that that was good for them, but at the same time it also made this whole place feel so eerily empty that she’d have rather have taken their chances with a whole school full of students.

This courtyard where now they walked, this campus where they were, this school had been a place of life and light. She could see it now, without even having to close her eyes: she could see the sunlight falling on the courtyard and the buildings, driving the shadows away from the tall, grey tower; she could see the ghosts of Pyrrha and Jaune, Weiss and Flash, Blake, Yang. She could see them all as clear as day, hear them all, hear and see and feel this school as it was supposed to be, not only a place of learning but a place of joy and friendship too; in this bastion of the struggle against evil had been found all the things for which it was worth opposing evil. All gone now. Those who had filled it with warmth and light were scattered, and all that remained was cold and empty stone and a handful of professors devoid of either students or purpose, left to rattle around inside this shell until their fate was decided.

Professor Goodwitch brought them to the infirmary, a room as empty as all the rest but which had a bed in which Taiyang gently laid his daughter, as the sterile lights flickered on above their heads.

“Let me know if you need anything, Tai,” Professor Goodwitch said.

Taiyang nodded absently as he sat down beside his bed, his eyes wholly fixed on Ruby. Zwei hopped up into Taiyang’s lap and sat there, similarly staring intently at the sleeping girl.

Professor Goodwitch turned briskly to face Sunset and Cardin where they lingered in the doorway. “Would you care to explain to me just what happened, Miss Shimmer?”

“I’d like to get to that part too,” Cardin said.

Sunset took a deep breath. She blinked not only once but twice. She had given this a lot of thought on the flight over and she had come to the conclusion that there was only one choice in this situation that was both practical and right. “Professor, there are some things that I need to explain to Cardin, after that we’ll be back to tell you what went down tonight.”

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed behind her half-moon spectacles. “I sincerely hope that you don’t intend what I fear you intend, Miss Shimmer.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Professor.”

Professor Goodwitch sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Mister Winchester, would you mind waiting here? Miss Shimmer and I have something to discuss.”

Cardin clenched his jaw. “Professor, I know that I probably still look like a kid to you but I am an officer of Vale, and-“

“And what Miss Shimmer and I need to discuss goes beyond Vale, or any other kingdom for that matter,” Professor Goodwitch declared sharply. “Wait here. Miss Shimmer, with me.”

Cardin – almost involuntarily, or automatically, judging by the look on his face – stepped aside as Professor Goodwitch swept magisterially past him, stalking off into the corridor beyond the infirmary with her heels clicking upon the floor tiles. Sunset followed after her, increasing her pace until she was matching the headmistress, who did not look at her, not even a glance, as they walked into Professor Greene’s office just down the hall.

Professor Greene wasn’t in at the moment, so Sunset and Professor Goodwitch had the room – where various model traps and snares sat on the shelves in front of books on outdoor living – to themselves as Professor Goodwitch slammed the door with a flick of her riding crop.

“Would you mind explaining to me what you think you’re doing, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset clasped her hands behind her back. “I think that Cardin deserves to know the truth, Professor.”

“On what grounds, Miss Shimmer.”

“On the grounds that it will be very hard to persuade him to help me without telling him everything,” Sunset said. “On the grounds that I might not even deserve his help if I don’t tell him everything.”

Professor Goodwitch exhaled loudly. “I understand your feelings, Miss Shimmer, but that isn’t how this works. Don’t you think that Professor Ozpin would have had a much easier time of things if he’d simply been honest with more people? If he had told the world the truth? But there are some things that are better kept secret, that must be kept secret. If the world knew about the Maidens then they would be hunted down for their powers, even more so if they knew about the Relics as well.”

“I’m not proposing to tell the whole world, just Cardin Winchester,” Sunset said. “There’s a reason I left the rest of my team back in the cafeteria and you’re right, I wouldn’t trust those scumbags with all of this but…he’s a good guy. He’s come a long way since Beacon. I think I can trust him with this.”

“That isn’t your decision to make, Miss Shimmer.”

“Then whose decision is it, Professor?” Sunset demanded. “Professor Ozpin? Professor Ozpin isn’t here, isn’t that the whole point? Now the Professor left us to do a job, that’s fine; but he doesn’t get to tie my hands behind my back while I do it and…and neither do you, with the greatest of respect.

“Professor Ozpin isn’t here. He’s not here to decide who does and doesn’t deserve to get brought into the magic circle. He’s not here to give me instructions or even to tell me what the right thing to do is. He’s not here, I am and I think that Cardin can be trusted with this. And I don’t think I have much choice.”

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. “Is there nothing that I can say that will dissuade you?”

“I don’t think so,” Sunset said softly.

“You’ve been wrong before in your choice of who to trust.”

Sunset clenched one hand into a fist as she winced at that. “I was wrong about Amber,” she admitted. “But I was right about Cinder, in the end.”

Professor Goodwitch shrugged. “But was Professor Ozpin right about you?” she said softly.

Sunset bowed her head. So, that’s how you feel. You did a good job hiding it up until now, but in some way I prefer to know. “Maybe not,” she said. “But he did it anyway.”

“Just like you intend to trust Mister Winchester anyway.”

“If you like, Professor,” Sunset said. “Even if Professor Ozpin isn’t dead it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not here. We can’t act as though if we wait five minutes he’ll get back from the dentists.”

“No, I suppose we cannot,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Go, Miss Shimmer; tell Mister Winchester everything you feel he can be trusted with, and then I expect you to tell me everything that happened to you tonight.”

“I’ll be glad to, Professor,” Sunset said. She showed herself out, and briskly made her way back up the corridor to the infirmary, where she found Cardin waiting impatiently just inside the door.

“Are you done?” he demanded as Sunset came back. “Do I get to find out what happened now? Do I get to understand?”

“Oh, you’ll understand alright,” Sunset said. “Come with me and you’ll understand more than you ever thought you could.”

She took him outside, to that empty courtyard where only memories dwelled, to where they could see the ruin of the tower where Professor Ozpin had revealed the truth to Sunset, Pyrrha, Rainbow and Twilight; it seemed so very, very long ago. It had only been…a few months, but it felt like a lifetime. That had been the moment when everything had changed, the moment when all expectations of what her life would be about had shifted, what all of their lives would be about; the moment when they had become a part of something bigger than themselves, enmeshed in it, inextricably.

Put like that what am I about to do to Cardin, huh?

Sunset began to wonder if the reason Professor Ozpin had kept so many secrets was that he didn’t want to burden people with them unnecessarily. Did she want to burden Cardin just to make her life easier?

“Do you want to do this?”

Cardin frowned down at her. “Do I want to do what?”

“Know the truth.”

“Of course I want to know, there’s something going on and I’m not just going to ignore it,” Cardin said sharply.

“Are you sure?” Sunset repeated. “Once I start to talk there’s no turning back, but you don’t have to listen. You’ve got a choice.”

Cardin stared at her like she was nuts or something. “Sunset, I know that you and Ruby and Professor Goodwitch apparently are involved in something secret. I know that there’s apparently a grimm that talks and I know that you know something about that silver light and whatever turned those beowolves to stone. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know all of that so why don’t you stop beating around the bush and tell me.”

“Okay,” Sunset said. She sighed. “But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

She told him everything. She told him about the Relics, she told him about the Maidens, she told him about Salem, she told him about magic, she told him about Professor Ozpin; about the only things that she didn’t tell him where about her own unique situation, her truth that didn’t belong to him; and about Ruby’s silver eyes, which was her truth to share.

She told him almost everything and then when she was done he just stood there staring at her like he didn’t know where to start.

“And you just…wow.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in-“

“This isn’t about it being a lot to take in!” Cardin snapped. “This is about the fact that none of you, not even Professor Ozpin, had the right to keep all of this stuff a secret! From everyone! How could you find this out all the way in back in second semester and you’re only now telling anyone?”

“To be fair, we weren’t exactly friends when I found out the truth,” Sunset said.

“I said anyone, not me,” Cardin said. “How could you keep this to yourself?”

“Because I liked the feeling of having secret knowledge that only a select few were privy too,” Sunset said flatly. “Also, because Professor Ozpin said it was a secret.”

“What gave him the right to make that kind of decision?” Cardin asked.

“The gods, apparently.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Cardin said. “The grimm have a mistress? If people knew about that, if people knew that the grimm were more than just a mindless horde-“

“If people knew that there was an immortal and sinister intellect at the heart of all evil, drawing her plans against us, they’d be out of their minds with panic and bring even more grimm down upon their own heads,” Sunset said. “And for what purpose? We can’t kill her, all we can do is fight the grimm, like we already do.”

“There’s a difference between fighting random dumb monsters and fighting an army.”

“The grimm are random dumb monsters most of the time,” Sunset said. “I don’t know what Salem does to them exactly but I don’t think that she moves them all around like they’re units in a game. At least not most of the time. What Professor Ozpin does-“

“Puts people in danger,” Cardin said. “This place was supposed to arm us with the skills and the knowledge that we needed to fight the grimm but the man running it held everything back.”

“Professor Ozpin always made the best decisions he could-“

“And the tower got destroyed, Vale got invaded and a whole lot of people died so he was really doing a swell job wasn’t he?” Cardin demanded.

Sunset slapped him, hard enough to knock him sideways in spite of his aura. He stumbled over his own feet, falling onto the ground at her feet while Sunset glowered at him. “Don’t,” she snarled. “Don’t talk like that.”

Cardin stared up at her in disbelief. “What the-“

“Stop it!” Sunset yelled. “Just stop…stop…”

“Stop what?” Cardin asked as he got to his feet.

“Stop reminding me of myself, it’s what I always hated about you!” Sunset shrieked at him, turning away and pacing a few paces off with her back to him. She hugged her arms. “That’s what I always…ever since I first saw it in Forever Fall. Do you remember that?”

“I remember you talked a lot and didn’t make much sense.”

“I was trying to make sense of it myself,” Sunset growled. “It was when I saw you…you were arrogant and entitled and bad tempered-“

“Thanks a lot.”

“And you were just like me and I couldn’t stand it!” Sunset said. “You just looking at you and feeling like I was looking into a mirror I just…it made me feel dirty. It made me feel like I needed a shower. It made me want to be a better person. So…thanks, I guess.”

Cardin rubbed his face. “You’ve got a funny way of showing your appreciation.”

“But you’re doing it again,” Sunset said, wheeling to face him. “Professor Ozpin…I spent so long thinking that exact stuff, the same nonsense that you’re coming out with now: Professor Ozpin doesn’t have the right to keep secrets from us, why isn’t he telling us everything; Professor Ozpin’s dangerous, he’s putting people at risk; Professor Ozpin is the reason people die. I even wondered if there was something sinister going on.” She glanced into his eyes. “Don’t,” she said. “Please don’t.”

“It would explain-“ Cardin began.

“The truth explains everything perfectly,” Sunset replied. “The truth that Professor Ozpin was – or is, whatever – a good man, trying his best in an insanely difficult situation. Trying to do something that neither I nor you nor anyone else have the right to judge him for. So please don’t try because…because I hate being reminded of myself and the mistakes that I’ve made even when…” she sighed. “I wasted so much time in baseless distrust and suspicion. Maybe if I had been more open and ready to think clearly then…I don’t know. But don’t make the same mistake.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Listen, I’m sorry about…you liked the guy and now…except he isn’t dead, is he?”

“Apparently not,” Sunset said. “Not in some sense, at least.”

“I get what you’re trying to say, but all the same,” Cardin said. “But all the same-“

“Professor Goodwitch didn’t think you could be trusted to know this, I’d prefer that you didn’t prove her right,” Sunset said.

“Ozpin didn’t have the right to keep this to himself,” Cardin repeated stubbornly.

“Who else had the right to know?” Sunset replied. “Who else has the right now? The Committee of Public Safety? I thought the same way once but after what’s happened to Vale…if people knew about the Maidens and the Relics then they would become pawns in power games between the Kingdoms.”

“You don’t know that,” Cardin said.

“No, but it’s something that I’ve worried about more since my friend became a Maiden,” Sunset said.

“Vale needs a hero.”

“Doesn’t it have you?”

Cardin snorted. “Something like a Maiden could give this Kingdom hope.”

“And are you willing to kill Pyrrha to return that hope to Vale?”

“Of course not!”

“Can you guarantee that everyone would be so forbearing?”

Cardin didn’t reply. Sunset thought that was probably because he couldn’t. He slammed his fist into his open palm. “I hate this,” he growled.

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. She didn’t add that she had tried to warn him. “But you understand now, right?”

“Sort of,” Cardin said. “If you believe in secrecy then why are you telling me?”

“Because you’re sort of involved at this point,” Sunset said. “On the periphery, but…this would have been very hard if you don’t know.”

Cardin shook his head. “I hate this.”

“I got that.”

“And I meant what I said,” Cardin said. “Vale does a hero right now. Everyone is asking where the next Ozpin is going to come from. We could really use the powers of the Fall Maiden right now.”

“Everyone could use a Maiden right now,” Sunset said. “The real question is what are you going to do about it?”

“I…I don’t know,” Cardin said. “You go back and talk to Goodwitch. I think you can explain everything. I…need to think about all the stuff that you’ve already explained.”

Sunset nodded. “That sounds fair.”

Cardin nodded absently. “This is going to sound like such a huge double standard but…you’re not going to tell the team about this, are you?”

“No,” Sunset said firmly, in a voice that was almost a squawk. “Of course not, I wouldn’t trust them with this. Cinder knows some of it, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know everything but I haven’t confirmed with her. Either way, I don’t think she’ll…”

Cardin’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Emerald,” Sunset said, as she remembered the other person who knew some of the truth of what they were about and who, unlike Cinder, had no reason to keep silent.

Sami leaned forwards. “Magic?” she said. “Magic is real?”

“Yep,” Emerald said. “And I’m pretty sure that’s what we just saw before we took off. The purple light that just ripped out of the ground?”

Sami’s eyes were wide as dishes. “That was…magic?”

“I can’t believe that that is what you’re focussing on,” Jack said.

Sami glowered at him. “I’m sorry, what part of the revelation that magic is real shouldn’t I be reacting too?”

“How about you react to the fact that the grimm have a boss who wants to kill us all?” Jack said.

“How about you don’t react at all to things that are none of your concern,” Cinder said as she stalked up to the table where the other three sat, sharing secrets that it would have been better if they had remained secret. She didn’t look at Emerald, not yet; she would deal with her in just a little while. For now she wanted to make sure that neither Jack nor Sami got any ideas as a result of this.

Jack got to his feet, his face flushed with anger. “You knew about this? You and Sunset both knew and you kept this from us?”

“Sit down,” Cinder said, her voice deceptively soft.

“Maybe I would have stayed in my cell if-“

“Sit down,” Cinder said, her voice becoming as sharp as glass.

Jack swallowed, flinching away from Cinder’s smouldering gaze.

“Thank you,” Cinder said. She glanced at Sami, but the reindeer faunus didn’t seem to be taking much notice. She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts.

“Sami,” Cinder said. “What are your thoughts on all this?”

Sami blinked. “I…wish that I’d known sooner,” she said.

“Why?” Cinder asked.

Sami shrugged. “Just…because…like Jack said, I…might have made different choices.”

“You would both have rather mouldered away in your cells?” Cinder asked. “Lost out on any chance of getting your freedom? Getting that farm you dream of?”

“How am I going to get a farm or freedom fighting a fight that can never be won?” Jack said.

“Let me stop you right there,” Cinder said. “Nobody is asking you to fight Salem. Nobody is asking you to save the world. You were recruited to fight for Vale and that’s all that you are going to be asked to do. Magic and Salem and all the rest is nothing for people like you to be concerned about. So calm down, settle down, and keep what you’ve just found out to yourselves or you’ll answer to me.” She leaned forward, getting into Jack’s face. She had her aura up and he didn’t, and they both knew it. “Do I make myself clear?”

Jack swallowed. “Yes. I’ll just-“

“Follow orders? That’s probably for the best,” Cinder said. It wasn’t how Sunset would have handled this but she thought that it had worked out pretty well. Now there was just one other loose end to tie up. “Emerald? A word.”

She resisted the urge to grab Emerald by the scruff of the neck and drag her away, instead her old subordinate, trembling, got up and followed her across the otherwise deserted dining hall, past empty chairs and empty tables, until Cinder rounded on her, “Would you care to explain yourself?”

Emerald didn’t meet Cinder’s eyes. “What we saw back there…that was magic, wasn’t it?”

“Possibly,” Cinder allowed, although she was as baffled as Sunset when it came to how a grimm could possess magic.

“If that’s what we’re involved in now, again,” Emerald said. “Don’t you think that they should know?”

“No,” Cinder said flatly. “Those two may be fit to fight, or to bear burdens, but to not to be trusted with our secrets.”

“Our secrets?” Emerald said. “Or Sunset’s secrets?”

Cinder tilted her head minutely to one side. “Is that what this is really about?”

“She’s using you,” Emerald said. “She’s using all of us, but especially you. She stole your power-“

“I gave it willingly,” Cinder said. “I hope you didn’t tell them about that?”

“No,” Emerald said quickly. “I told them about the Maidens, but I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t never give your secrets away, Cinder.”

Cinder grunted. That was good. They would think her weak if they knew what she had done. Sunset too, probably. “But you didn’t consider the truths I showed you to be my secrets?”

“I…that isn’t the same thing,” Emerald said.

“Isn’t it?” Cinder said. “I opened your eyes so that you could assist me, not so that you could shout the truth from the rooftops to let it fall like rain upon unworthy ears.”

“I am helping you,” Emerald said. “You deserve better than to be Sunset Shimmer’s running dog. With their help maybe we can overpower Sunset and Cardin and-“

“And what?” Cinder demanded. “Cut Ruby’s throat while she’s sleeping? Hunt down Pyrrha for the power of the Fall Maiden?”

“If you wish,” Emerald murmured. “Whatever you wish.”

“Except that my wish is to stay here,” Cinder said. “To do this.”

Emerald shook her head. “You’re better than this,” she said. “You’re more than this.”

“No,” Cinder said. “I am more than empty dreams and airy ambitions.”

“You can’t honestly mean to tell me that this fulfils you,” Emerald said.

“No,” Cinder said again. “But this is Sunset’s place, which means it is my place too.”

“Sunset again,” Emerald growled. “Why does she have such a hold on you? What does she have that I don’t? I would do anything for you, go anywhere for you, I would…I would stand by you while you cut Ruby’s throat as she was sleeping, or killed Pyrrha for her powers or burned down Vale and Mistral both, do you think that Sunset would?”

“I know she wouldn’t,” Cinder said. “And that…as much as anything else that is the reason why.”

“I was too late,” Cinder said. “It was as you feared. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, what’s done is done,” Sunset said. It wasn’t that it wasn’t disappointing – because it was – but there was no point in blaming Cinder for it. It was her fault for not remembering Emerald sooner, although even if she had remembered it was doubtful if she could have kept her from blabbing out the truth indefinitely.

It was done, and she would just have to deal with it now. “What’s the mood like?”

“Jack is scared,” Cinder said. “Sami…I’m not so sure.”

“What’s she said?”

“Very little, that’s the point,” Cinder said. “Whatever she thinks about this she’s keeping it to herself for now.”

“I see,” Sunset murmured.

“How did Cardin take it?”

“He’s taking some time to think it over.”

“That bad?”

“He’s not feeling very well disposed towards Ozpin right now.”

“I know that you liked him, but he did have a talent for upsetting people,” Cinder replied. “So what now?”

“I see if Professor Goodwitch knows what that thing at the house was,” Sunset said.

“And then?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sunset said. “One thing at a time.”

“Good luck in there,” Cinder said, before ending the call.

Sunset folded up her scroll, putting it away as she cursed inwardly. So they all knew. They all knew some of the truth anyway; Cinder hadn’t told Emerald everything and so Emerald hadn’t been able to reveal everything; but she knew enough to reveal enough.

But there was nothing to be done about it now, it wasn’t as though she could just erase their memories.

Sunset pushed open the door into Professor Greene’s office, to find Professor Goodwitch sat on the desk waiting for her.

“How did it go with Mister Winchester?”

“He’s…taking it in,” Sunset said. “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Ozpin wasn’t the only person who could tell this story,” Sunset said.

Professor Goodwitch’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Fall.”

“Her accomplice, Emerald Sustrai,” Sunset said. “I don’t mind telling you, Professor, that my former thief and murderer were not people I wanted to bring into this business.”

“What do you intend to do about it?”

“What can I do but my job: make sure they don’t get out of hand? So long as they’re with us they can’t do anything with their knowledge and they’re not in much position to spread it around.”

“All the same this is far from ideal.”

“The fact that I had to come here under these circumstances is far from ideal, Professor.”

“Yes,” Professor Goodwitch murmured. “You were going to explain what brought you here, weren’t you? Mister Winchester won’t be joining us for this?”

“I’ve given him enough to ponder for now, apparently,” Sunset said.

Professor Goodwitch almost smiled at that. “Very well, Miss Shimmer; what has occurred tonight to bring you back here?”

“I went to talk to Ruby, as I told you I would,” Sunset said. “I asked her to go to Mistral to find Professor Ozpin and, after thinking it over, she agreed to do it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I would be more glad if Miss Rose was currently in a position to go.”

“We were attacked,” Sunset said. “First by a man, a scorpion faunus; Cinder said his name was Tyrian.”

“Not a name I’m familiar with,” Professor Goodwitch said. “But the servants of the enemy are, for the most part, unknown to us. We endeavour to keep the names of our own allies hidden from Salem also. Although that hasn’t worked in your case.”

“Unfortunately,” Sunset agreed. “Tyrian closed the distance too quickly for either for either me or Ruby, but Mister Xiao Long was a match for him. He was about to finish him for good when the grimm arrived.”

“It must have been some grimm to get the better of Taiyang Xiao Long,” Professor Goodwitch said. “Not to mention you and Miss Rose.”

“It was some grimm,” Sunset agreed. “It recognised us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it told us so.”

Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses back up her nose. “It spoke? The grimm spoke to you?”

Sunset nodded. “It wasn’t loquacious but it spoke. And it knew our names. That’s what it said: Ruby Rose, and Sunset Shimmer. And it could wield…I would bet my arm it was using magic.”

“That’s impossible,” Professor Goodwitch said. “The only magic remaining in the world resides with Salem, Professor Ozpin and the four maidens.”

“I know what I saw,” Sunset said. “I know what I felt. Could Salem have given a part of her magic to a grimm the way that Ozpin gave his to the Maidens?”

“I don’t believe so,” Professor Goodwitch said. “The grimm are not human, after all; they are constructs of magic, and as such they shouldn’t have the ability to wield magic.”

“Nevertheless,” Sunset said. She ran one hand through her fiery hair. “I was hoping that you would have an answer for me. Do you think Professor Port might know?”

“If he did I’m sure I would have heard him mention it,” Professor Goodwitch said softly.

Sunset nodded. “The library?”

“You might find the answers there, in some old and mouldering text, if you had the time to look,” Professor Goodwitch said. “I’m not sure that you do. If this creature still lives then they will come after you again.”

Sunset smirked. “Is this your way of telling me to go to Anima, Professor?”

“In Mistral is the Relic of Knowledge, which can tell you everything you wish to know about this creature and how to destroy it,” Professor Goodwitch said. “That is if Professor Ozpin, in his wisdom, does not already have the answers that you are looking for. And ask yourself this, Miss Shimmer? Do you really think that this city can survive another grimm attack at the moment?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really think it would attack the city just to get to us?”

“I can’t say that it wouldn’t,” Professor Goodwitch said. “And if it does, even it is seen, the panic that it could cause might bring even more grimm.”

“So you’re saying that I should leave to draw it away?” Sunset said. “What about Ruby?”

“With luck it will assume that Miss Rose is with you, and follow,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“And if it doesn’t? I can’t run away and leave Ruby to face this thing by herself?”

Professor Goodwitch smiled.

“What did I say that was so amusing, Professor?”

“What will you do if Miss Rose wakes up and remains determined to set out for Anima?” Professor Goodwitch asked.

“I…” Sunset faltered, because there was only one answer and Professor Goodwitch knew it. She couldn’t let Ruby go to Anima by herself, not after this, not after the hypothetical perils of the journey had become both real and so much more perilous than Sunset had thought. “I need to speak to Cardin again.”

So, it’s real.

Magic is real.

And it always was.

Just like I was always told.

Sami sat in the moonlight and thought about her mother.

Emerald and Jack were both asleep. Cinder wasn’t, because she didn’t trust any of them. So she was watching Sami from the other side of this cafeteria, watching her in case she did anything wrong, stepped out of line.

As well she might watch, but she couldn’t watch the inside of Sami’s head.

Magic was real. That was something that Sami should have known, considering that she’d been told it often enough.

“We are the old blood, my child,” Mother said. “The blood of the First Men flows in our veins.”

Sami frowned. “If ours is the blood of men, then why are we faunus?”

“Some of our ancestors were faunus,” Mother said. “But some were men. The old blood, the blood of power, the blood of magic.”

“Magic isn’t real, Mom.”

“Stifle your tongue! This is knowledge passed down through generations of our people; though the world has forgotten we remember.”

Sami’s mother had been a wise woman of her tribe of semi-nomads living in the wooded foothills of the mountains on the edge of Vale’s territory. They had lived on the outskirts of the kingdom, dodging the grimm and the kingdom authorities equally; they had foraged for food and hunted for the skins of animals to wear or sell or barter: deer, rabbit, beaver, bear, lynxes and the great mountain lions that roamed the peaks. Sami had always believed that the reason the grimm existed was to protect those creatures; they were stopping men from expanding too far and taking all the land for themselves and leaving none for the beasts and the birds. They were nature’s protectors, and that was why those who lived off nature had to be wary of them.

Sami’s mother had called that a lot of nonsense, and it seemed that she had been right because the grimm weren’t an earthborn force at all, they were just monsters that somebody had created to attack their enemies.

And because her mother had been right about magic too. That was something else her people had done, as well as hunt and fish and forage: they had told stories, about magic and the old blood and the first men and the great cataclysm. Sami hadn’t believed any of it. She hadn’t believed in magic, or the idea that her ancestors had been great once. After all, it wasn’t as if anyone she knew had any magic to show for their old blood, for the legacy of the First Men.

So Sami had left it all behind and gone to Vale to seek her fortune, where she had found out that the only thing that she knew how to do well enough to carve out a space for herself in the city was hunt and take lives, which was exactly what she’d done.

And now she found out that it was all true. That magic was real.

And if magic was real then that made it her birthright.

She didn’t know how she was going to attain it, but she knew that she would.

No matter who she had to kill first.

Sunset emerged out into the courtyard; the night breeze was chill upon her face as she wandered through the deserted, empty space in search of Cardin.

She found him on the docking pad, standing beside his Bullhead, looking out over Vale as it lay swathed in darkness, bathed in moonlight, illuminated by a hundred thousand lights below them like a mirror reflecting back the starlight at the sky.

His arms were folded across his broad chest. He was staring intently down at the city below, saying nothing to anybody.

He continued to say nothing as Sunset came to stand beside him, waiting, looking at the city.

The city that she had betrayed. The city that she had sworn to serve. The city that she…that she wanted to leave behind no matter how wrong it was of her to do so.

Would it be any less wrong of me to abandon Ruby in the face of this?

“What did Professor Goodwitch say?” Cardin asked, breaking the silence.

“She doesn’t know what it was that we fought.”

“What was it that you fought?”

Sunset glared at him, but she understood what he really meant. “A talking grimm,” she said. “A grimm that used magic.”

“And that’s not normal?”

Sunset glared at him again.

“Hey, I just found out magic is real, how do I know what’s normal and what isn’t?”

“No,” Sunset said. “A grimm using magic is definitely not normal. I had to bury it because there didn’t seem any way that we could kill it.”

“And Professor Goodwitch wasn’t any help?”

“Professor Goodwitch wants me to go to Anima,” Sunset said.

“For Ozpin.”

“And for answers,” Sunset said. She didn’t mention that getting those answers would first require getting the Spring Maiden, which would require going up against Raven Branwen and her bandit tribe. “It knew our names, Cardin; not just Ruby’s name but mine too. It recognised us, it was hunting us. So was the man, the faunus, who accompanied it.”

“You’re saying that…Salem?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “She’s after us.”

Cardin scowled. “Why? Because you worked for Ozpin?”

“Probably,” Sunset said, if only because – having not told him about Equestrian magic or silver eyes – she could hardly cite any other reasons to him.

Cardin closed his eyes. “I don’t like this,” he said. “I don’t like this one bit. But then…there’s a lot I’ve had to put up with lately that I don’t like.

“I don’t like the fact that everyone treats me like I’m some hero when all I did was get my shoulder dislocated during the Battle of Vale. I don’t like the fact that all the real heroes got kicked out or felt like they had to leave. I don’t like the fact that my team just disappeared, I mean just because we weren’t a brotherhood like Team Sapphire doesn’t mean that I didn’t care about them! So this…even though I don’t like this…I suppose that it has to join the line of stuff that I don’t like, but that I have to live with.

“Because you’re right. I don’t like it but you’re right. If people knew the truth then they’d be afraid, even more than they are. Things are just starting to calm down in Vale and if this came out then…between the people who would want their Maiden back and the people who would be scared of all of this…it might bring the grimm back. I don’t think that Ozpin had the right to just keep all of this to himself but right now…I think it might be our best option.”

Sunset sighed. “You have no idea how relieving it is to hear you say that,” she said. “I was worried that…I was worried that you’d be one of those who would want to claim the magic for Vale.”

“I’d rather that we had some,” Cardin grumbled. “But only because it sounds like we could use it to keep the kingdom safe, not so that we could use it against other kingdoms.”

“How long until one became the other?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it,” Cardin muttered. He let his hands fall down to his sides as he continued to stare out across Vale. “So they’re hunting you.”

“It looks that way.”

“And they won’t stop?”

“I can’t know what they’ll do, but I doubt they’ll give up so easily,” Sunset said. She didn’t mention, because she trusted him to realise, that Vale couldn’t afford another grimm attack.

Cardin said nothing, not for a few moments that ticked by while he continued to look down at the city. “Lionheart,” he said after a while.

“Lionheart?” Sunset repeated.

“Isn’t that how Cinder and her allies got into Beacon in the first place? Because Lionheart from Haven helped them out. And he’s still there, isn’t he?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Sunset said. “Nobody’s sure, with communications down.”

“Let’s assume he is,” Cardin said. “Or at least that he hasn’t gone very far. This team will travel to Mistral, acquire Leonardo Lionheart and render him back to Vale to stand trial for his crimes.”

“And then after he gets found guilty he can join our squad,” Sunset muttered.

“I’m serious,” Cardin said. “You want to go to Mistral? This is how, this is the mission. This is the way that I can sell letting us leave.”

“Can you?” Sunset asked. “It seems like a stretch, to take an elite squad out of the kingdom on a journey of who knows how long it will take just to get a minor player in all of this.”

“He’s only a minor player if you know the truth,” Cardin said. “Take away the demon goddess and who’s to say that Lionheart didn’t set up everything with Cinder and the White Fang? Who’s to say that he didn’t pull the strings, and use Cinder as his field agent to coordinate everything.”

“Why would he?”

“We’ll ask him that when we pull the bag off his head,” Cardin said. “We don’t need the answers, I just need to make the questions seem as though they’re worth asking. I can get us the go for this, trust me.”

“Us?” Sunset repeated. “Cardin, are you-“

“I can’t let you go without me,” Cardin said. “Not all the way to Anima, it’s too far and the mission is too important.”

“But…but this has nothing to do with you,” Sunset said.

“What did it have to do with you, before Ozpin told you the truth?” Cardin asked.

Sunset snorted, because of course he was absolutely right. No less than Professor Ozpin had told her once that choice was the most powerful of the four kinds of magic in Remnant, and if that was true then who was she to stop Cardin from making his own choice, here and now. “Okay then,” she said. She held out one hand. “Welcome to the shadow war, Captain Winchester.”

Cardin took her hand with a firm grip. He opened his mouth, but he was cut off from saying anything by the buzzing of Sunset’s scroll.

“Hold that thought,” Sunset said, as she pulled out her scroll and opened it up.

“Sunset? Are you okay?”

“Ruby?” Sunset said, looking down at the face of her former team-mate on the screen of her scroll. It looked as though she was sitting up in bed. “You’re awake. I mean, obviously you’re awake but…that was fast.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “Maybe it’s a sign that the more I use my eyes the easier it’ll get.”

“More likely it’s related to the intensity of the burst,” Sunset said. “You saved my life out there. Don’t do it again.”

“Sunset,” Ruby said. “I’m fine.”

“What’s this about eyes?” Cardin asked.

“Ask Ruby and she can tell you if she wants to,” Sunset said over her shoulder.

“Who are you talking to?” Ruby asked.

“Cardin, he’s here with me,” Sunset said. “Hold on, we’ll come to you.” She began to walk in the direction of the infirmary. Cardin followed.

“Is Cardin coming?”

“Don’t worry, I just told him everything…almost everything.”

“Almost?”

“I told you you’d have to ask Ruby,” Sunset said. “We were just discussing our next move,” she added to Ruby. “And how we could get to Anima.”

“So you’re going to come with me now?” Ruby said.

“You still want to go?” Sunset replied.

“Yeah, I still want to go,” Ruby said. “I knew it would be dangerous before I said I was going to go in the first place. The only difference-“

“The only difference is that I’m coming too,” Taiyang said, taking the scroll out of Ruby’s hands and holding it up to his own face. “No offence, Miss Shimmer but you would have both died there without me. I’m not taking that risk with Ruby. If you have to go to Anima – and I think that’s probably wise in the circumstances – then I’m coming too.”

Zwei barked happily.

“I’m not going to lie, sir, we could use more trustworthy people on this trip,” Sunset said. She grinned. “How do you feel about a road trip with your dad, Ruby?”

“I’d say that…I’d say that it was really cool…if only Yang was here to come with us.”

The smile faded from Sunset’s face. “Yeah, I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ruby said. “So when do we leave?”

“As soon as we can,” Cardin said, looming over Sunset’s shoulder. “But I’m not sure when that is, we still have to arrange how we’re going to get out.”

“Can’t we just fly?” Ruby said.

Cardin shook his head. “Skyliners aren’t running internationally at the moment, and even if they were Sunset and her team can’t just walk onto a commercial airship and I can’t be publicly seen to be leaving the kingdom. We’re supposed to be engaging in a stealth mission so we need to leave stealthily.”

“So what you’re saying,” Sunset said, with a heavy feeling settling in her stomach. “Is that we need somebody with shady connections and experience in evading scrutiny to help us get an illicit passage out of Vale and to Anima?”

“Sunset,” Ruby said. “It almost sounds as though you’re talking about-“

“That’s exactly who I’m talking about,” Sunset said. “He got picked up recently, and it seems like we need his help again.”

“Who are you talking about?” Taiyang asked.

“Roman Torchwick,” Ruby said.

“Roman Torchwick,” Sunset repeated, because if anyone could help them cross the country in secret it would have to be him, wouldn’t it?

Roman Torchwick, their best hope.

The Man in the Hat Comes Back

The Man in the Hat Comes Back

"So, you need my help, huh?" Roman Torchwick asked, and it was clear from the tone of his voice and the – incredibly smug – look on his face that he wasn't even pretending not to be enjoying this.

"Unfortunately," Sunset growled. They were still at Beacon, since it was probably both the most secure and the most secret – in the sense that there was hardly anybody there and those who were there were loyal to Professor Goodwitch and the turns-out-not-so-late Professor Ozpin's memory – place that they could go until they got their route out of Vale sorted out. Presently they – and by they Sunset meant everybody, their whole extended, one might say bloated, party; she understood that they had to make this look real for Cardin's superiors, but she didn't quite get why that meant they had to take the Bluebells with them, for example. There were far too many people coming on this 'secret' mission for Sunset's liking, and the fact that Cardin couldn't, or said he couldn't, justify leaving them behind while taking Torchwick didn't make Sunset any happier about it – were in the auditorium; Torchwick had, of course, taken the opportunity to get up onto the stage like he was some kind of movie star about to get an award.

Thinking about it like that was easier – and better for her temper – than thinking about him standing up there like he was Professor Ozpin or something.

"Can you help us or not?" Cardin demanded from his seat directly in front of the stage.

"Of course he can help," Cinder murmured. She got up from where she had been sitting next to Sunset, just to the right of the auditorium stage, and walked towards it. "The question is whether he will, isn't that right, Roman?"

Torchwick smirked. "You see? She gets it. You're lucky to have her to make this conversation go quicker. Can I do it? Sure, of course I can do it, who do you think you're talking to. Will I do it? Well, that depends on what you're offering, doesn't it?"

"The Kingdom of Vale has already made a deal with you, Torchwick," Cardin said.

Torchwick raised his – manacled – hands, one finger in the air. "Technically the Kingdom of Vale made a deal with me to fight in Vale, they didn't say nothing about a long trek to Anima."

"Hey, he's got a point," Jack said from the back. "Hey, boss, can we stand on our contract and refuse to do this?"

"No," Sunset shouted over her shoulder.

Cinder chuckled. "What's that expression, Jack? Join the army and the see the world?"

"But I don't want to see the world," Jack said.

"Too bad," Cardin snapped. "And as for you," he added, returning his attention to Torchwick. "Your deal didn't say anything about you only being sent to fight in Vale, only that you fight for Vale until Vale says you’re done."

"Is that right? Teach me to read the fine print, I guess," Torchwick said. "Except no it doesn't, because you need my help so how about we skip to the part where you kids admit I've got you over a barrel and we talk business like reasonable adults." He glanced at Taiyang, sitting off to one side with Ruby (and Zwei). "Hey, Pops, you get it, right? Why don't you explain to the orphans here how the world works?"

"What do you want, Torchwick?" Ruby demanded.

"And little Red speaks," Torchwick declared. His expression softened, if only for a moment. "Hey, Kid, I heard about your sister biting it in that battle. That's rough, I'm sorry."

Taiyang got to his feet. "Don't talk about my daughter. Don't talk to my daughter for that matter."

Roman Torchwick probably would have looked a little intimidated if he'd seen what Taiyang had almost done Tyrian, or that was what Sunset thought at least. But he hadn't, so he wasn't; he just looked at Taiyang with a dispassionate eye. He was about to say something, and knowing him it wouldn’t be something friendly, but Ruby spoke before he could. Her voice emerged soft and tired and sad. “It’s okay, Dad. This guy isn’t someone you need to protect me from.”

“You see?” Torchwick said. “Red and me, we go way back. That’s why she knows I mean it, don’t you Red?”

Ruby didn’t answer. She just sighed. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“What do I want?” Torchwick asked as though the question were rhetorical. “I want out,” he said. “I’ll help you get to Anima but once we get there we’re done, me and Neo. Which is the second thing I want, she’s coming with us.”

“No way,” Cardin said. “Your partner is staying right here, and she’ll be waiting for you when you get back from our mission.”

Torchwick snorted. “Is that right? Then good luck finding another way to Mistral.”

Cinder climbed up onto the auditorium stage beside him. “Why don’t you tell us what you really want, Roman?”

Torchwick blinked. “I thought I just did.”

“You don’t want to be set free in Anima,” Cinder said.

“Don’t I? And what makes you think you know what I want?” Torchwick asked. “Do you even know what you want?”

Cinder didn’t suffer that with a reply. “You were free once before. After Mountain Glenn you could have gone anywhere you wanted. But instead you came right back to Vale, right back to playing gangster, right back to playing the same old games with the cops and waiting for them to catch up with you. Waiting to end up in the cell that Cardin dragged you out of. We both know that you can’t keep away from this city or this life, so why pretend that you’d make a new life in Anima when you couldn’t make one in Sanus?”

Torchwick held her gaze, for a few moments at least, but as she bore down upon him, pressing close against him, he was forced to look away from her smouldering gaze. He took a step back and away from her, as skittish around her as he had been – Sunset guessed – when she still possessed the powers of the Fall Maiden.

“Maybe you’re right,” Torchwick admitted. “Maybe the bright lights of the big city will call me home again. Maybe I can’t stay away. But you know what I know for sure? You need me right now.” He grinned. “And the reason I know that is that I know how much it must be killing you to ask for my help again, all three of you.” He pointed at Sunset, Cinder and then last of all at Ruby. “I know what you think of me, I know that if you had other options you’d have used them by now. Which means that you need me, which means that you don’t get to judge my choices; this isn’t a negotiation, this is me naming my price: Neo comes with us, and when we get to Anima you let us both go. Take it or leave it.”

“You weren’t this bold last time we asked for your help,” Sunset grumbled.

“You might have noticed a distinct lack of Atlesian soldiers and airships this time around,” Torchwick said.

He’s not wrong. Also a distinct lack of CCT. And a distinct lack of Professor Ozpin. And a distinct lack of Pyrrha and…and a distinct lack of everything else that we had going for us the last time we trusted you to lead us into the serpent’s den.

Sunset glanced at Cinder. At least you’re on my side this time around.

She leaned forwards, resting her elbows on her knees. “Freedom for you and Neo once we cross the ocean. That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Torchwick said. “I’m not unreasonable, after all.”

“Done,” Sunset said.

“What?” Cardin said.

Sunset leaned across the bench to whisper into his ear. “He’s got a point: we don’t have many other choices but to pay him off.”

“We can’t just let him walk free,” Cardin hissed.

“It’s not like we’re letting him go in the city,” Sunset said. “He’ll be Mistral’s problem.”

Cardin drew back a couple of inches to look at her.

“Okay, that sounded more heartless than it should have,” Sunset said. “I meant…he’ll be one more petty criminal in a country that is crawling with them already if its reputation is accurate.” Admittedly she hadn’t seen any evidence of Mistral’s infamous underworld when she was there last, but then she wouldn’t have expected the darkness of the city’s seedy underbelly to have spread so far that it could touch the rarefied heights on which the ancient and noble House of Nikos dwelt; it didn’t mean that said reputation was completely undeserved. Most likely he would either fall in with some local gang – one more thug amongst many – or they would eat him alive for trying to muscle in on their territory. Either way, it wasn’t as though she was unleashing any great evil on the world; certainly she wasn’t placing it at the kind of risk that world might by in if they failed to find Professor Ozpin, failed to understand how to defeat these new and more powerful grimm, failed to take the road to Anima that Torchwick alone could show them.

What happened to no sacrifices?

I’m not sacrificing anyone.

Except for his victims.

I don’t know he’s going to have any victims.

You know what he is.

Did she? Sunset looked at him. He didn’t look like a monster. Whether that was a simple case of deceptive appearances or not…

“If it makes you feel any better,” Sunset said as softly as she could because she did not want to be overheard by Torchwick right now. “We don’t need to behave honourably towards him. Give him your word, it means nothing given to a man like him.”

Promise him freedom, promise him Neo, promise him a fragment of the moon if it would get him to do what they wanted and then, when they got to Anima they could snap their fingers at their bargain and…well, it would be hard to control him after that but it would be an alternative to simply letting him wander free to do mischief.

Princess Celestia wouldn’t approve but…who knows? It’s a long way to Anima, maybe we’ll make a friend of him by the time we get there and none of this will come up.

Although that doesn’t – and shouldn’t – make me feel better about planning to betray him. I never planned to betray Cinder.

I could see the good in Cinder more clearly than I can see it in this guy.

But that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t try and bring it out.

Sunset glanced at Torchwick. She had an idea from the look in his eye that he had, if not overheard them, then at least gathered a pretty good idea of what they were talking about. No matter, even if he was smart enough to work out or consider the possibility that Sunset and Cardin planned to betray them he couldn’t do anything about it. He was in the same boat that they were: he was going to get a better offer than this.

To confirm that Sunset’s glance flickered form Torchwick to Cinder, who nodded to show that she concurred with Sunset’s assessment of this.

Sunset rose to her feet. “Done,” she repeated. “We accept your terms.”

Torchwick chuckled. “I knew that you were the one really in charge,” he said.

“If you wanted to be allowed to run your mouth you should have asked for that before we made a deal,” Sunset said. “Now, how are we getting to Anima?”

“First I have to pay a visit to an old pal of mine,” Torchwick said. “Actually he’s more of an acquaintance. Actually he said he’d kill me if he ever saw me again but don’t worry, I’m sure that me and Cinder here will get everything straightened out and make the arrangements just fine.”

“You…and Cinder?” Sunset repeated.

“You’re not going to trust me to go by myself, are you?” Torchwick said. “And Cinder fits in the kind of places we’re going a lot better than any of the rest of you.”

“Me and you?” Cinder said.

“Sure,” Torchwick said. “It’ll be just like old times.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “If we must.”

“I love how you’re not even pretending to check with our glorious leader first,” Torchwick said.

“What did I say about running your mouth?” Sunset said.

“Nothing that I paid any attention to,” Torchwick said.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Sunset said. “Cinder, a word?” She turned away from Torchwick as Cinder leapt down off the stage and came to stand beside her. “Are you going to be okay?”

Cinder looked somewhere between amused and affronted. “You think that I can’t handle Roman Torchwick?”

“You don’t know where he’s leading you,” Sunset said. “It could be a trap.”

“If it is he’ll regret it,” Cinder said. “I may not be the Fall Maiden any more but I am still Cinder Fall.” She was silent for a moment. “I’ll always be Cinder Fall, after what I’ve done.”

“You changed your name before,” Sunset said. “There’s no reason you couldn’t do it again.”

“Children can start afresh, you know as well as I do that’s not so easy for us,” Cinder said. “The caterpillar only gets to become a butterfly once, afterwards it has to live with the dirt it accrues on its wings.” She smiled. “Besides, the name Cinder Fall can still be useful; it commands a certain…respect. Don’t worry about me; I could handle a dozen Roman Torchwicks with one eye closed.” She turned to face Roman himself once again. “So,” she said. “Lead the way.”

Ruby glanced up as the door opened and Cardin walked back in, with Neo walking in front of him with a step so light that it was almost a skip. She was wearing a smile on her face, and she kept it there as she hopped up onto the edge of the stage and sat there with her legs dangling from it, kicking up and down as she waited for Torchwick to return.

Ruby wished she'd stop. She didn't say or do anything to make her stop but she wished that the other girl would stop all the same. It wasn't her fault but at the same time it didn't seem right for her to be so happy in this place.

This place where Ruby had been happy once, but now…now she just wanted to get out of here; out of this room, out of this building, out of Beacon. It had too many memories for her now and they were memories…they were memories that she didn't want to forget but that didn't mean that they wanted to be reminded of them either.

Just looking up at that stage she could, if she looked long enough, see Yang up there instead of Neo, sparring with Weiss or Pyrrha while Professor Goodwitch watched them with a keen eye that nothing could slip past. In her mind's eye she could see them all sat on the bleachers, watching one spectacular fight after another, watching Jaune grow before their eyes. They had been such good days, such happy days and yet now when Ruby thought of she was filled only with a kind of empty sadness that wouldn't go away like a stubborn morning mist over the land.

I didn't appreciate my sister when I had her. I let us grow apart and now she's gone.

Now it's all gone.

Ruby glanced at her father, who was sat beside her as silently as she herself; he looked thoughtful, and a little pained. Was that how she looked? Was Dad seeing his ghosts, of Mom and Raven, the same way she was?

I wish that we could help each other. But how can we help each other when we can't help ourselves?

Ruby was recalled to herself by the sound of footsteps approaching her. Sunset. Her only friend in the room had a tendency to stomp, especially when she wasn't in the best mood. Pyrrha you could rarely hear coming in spite of her armour, Jaune had been getting more light on his feet but then had decided to go the heavily armoured tank route instead and Sunset…if you heard Sunset coming it told you that things were less than perfect.

Not that Ruby needed to listen to Sunset's feet to tell her that.

Sunset loomed over Ruby, momentarily blocking out the light that had been shining on her face. "Mind if I join you?"

"No," Ruby said, looking away from her.

Zwei hopped up into Ruby's lap, clearing the space on the bench beside Ruby – and on the other side of Taiyang – for Sunset to sit down upon it. She spread out her legs and clasped her hands together between her knees. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Ruby said softly.

Sunset was quiet for a moment. "You don't have to pretend with me. I know this can't be easy for you."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because it isn't easy for me," Sunset said. "And I haven't…suffered, like you."

Ruby closed her eyes. "I see her," she admitted. "On the stage and…and on the way here."

"I thought you might," Sunset murmured.

"Places like these bring back memories," Taiyang said, his voice hoarse. "But sometimes…sometimes the last thing you want to do is remember."

"Listen," Sunset said. "I know that this situation is…far from ideal. I know that this isn't the company that you would like to keep; believe me it isn't the company that I would like you to keep. And I know that I can't do or say anything to make this better although I wish I could, but…you can tell me anything you want or nothing at all, but whatever you say…I'm listening. You don't have to carry this all by yourself.

Ruby opened her eyes. "I'm glad your back," she said softly. "Do you trust them?"

"Who?"

"Everyone," Ruby said. "Torchwick, Cinder, Cardin, Emerald, Team Bluebell…those guys."

"I trust Cinder," Sunset said confidently. "And I trust Cardin too, though I'd rather have Cinder beside me in a fight."

"You trust Cinder more than Cardin?" Ruby asked.

"She's changed," Sunset said. "She's not the same girl who attacked the CCT. She's become…"

"What you always thought she would?" Ruby suggested.

"More hoped than thought," Sunset said. "But yes. I suppose it isn't easy for you to trust her…and I'm not sure that I have the right to ask you to trust me any more, but if you watch her you'll see that she won't let us down. We're lucky to have her on our side."

"Because she's the only one you trust," Ruby said. "Apart from Cardin."

"And Cardin is a special case," Sunset said. "Yes, Cinder is the only one I can rely on. Well, I trust Torchwick not to betray us at this point because I don't think it's in his interests yet; but do I trust him not to betray us at any point in the future? No."

"And the rest?" Ruby asked.

"Jack is just Torchwick without the wit, Sami is a brute, Emerald is..Emerald," Sunset said. "And is there any way for me to explain why I don't trust the Bluebells without seeming like a screaming hypocrite?"

"Probably not," Ruby said. "But I get it. Do we have to take them all with us?"

"Unfortunately, according to Cardin," Sunset said. "Don't worry, I don't plan to let them near Ozpin."

"They're there to help you get Professor Lionheart, right?" Ruby said.

Sunset nodded. "That's right."

"And once you get him, and the time to take him back to Vale comes, what are you going to do?" Ruby asked. Are you going to stay with us, or are you going to drop me and Professor Ozpin off with Pyrrha and Jaune and then go back to Vale with Cinder and all these people you don't trust?

Sunset blinked in surprised. "I…I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "And, to be honest Ruby, I'm not certain that I want to."

“I’ve got to say, I was surprised that they let you come out with me on your own like this,” Torchwick said as the two of them made their way down the street towards the location at which, according to Torchwick himself, they would meet with his contact who could get them out of the city.

They were in a seedy part of town – which Cinder wasn’t surprised by – but also a largely deserted one. They were down by the river wharfs, which might have been a hub of commerce for Vale back in the day or which might have been a triumph of hope – the hope that the kingdom would expand up-river and develop a thriving riverside hinterland of towns and villages trading with the city – over the reality of the grimm. Mostly what lay upriver was the Forever Fall forest, and the railroads had almost killed off what river traffic there had been before the iron rails were laid. As a result the street down which they walked was empty, and the buildings between which they passed looked like they were falling apart. Cinder was a little surprised the wharfs were still there at all; someone must be using them, but who?

People like Torchwick’s associate, I suppose.

Cinder snorted. “Surprised? Why?”

“I’m surprised they trust you enough to let you out unsupervised,” Torchwick explained. “I’m surprised they’re right to trust you out of their sight.”

“You’re surprised that I can work with Sunset?” Cinder said.

“Last time I saw you you wanted them all dead,” Torchwick said.

“The last time you saw me was a very long time ago,” Cinder replied. “A lot has changed since then, and so have I.”

Torchwick smirked. “You’ve gone soft, you mean.”

“No,” Cinder said flatly. “That’s not what I mean.”

The smug look didn’t leave Torchwick’s face. “It might be what you meant but that doesn’t mean that it’s what happened. The Cinder I knew would never have been content to be anyone’s errand girl.”

“You don’t know me,” Cinder said. “You never did. And I am nobody’s errand girl.”

“I knew you well enough to know that that would set you off,” Torchwick said, to which Cinder could only roll her eyes. “So what changed? How did the monster who wanted to burn the whole world down and rule the ashes end up taking orders from the likes little Red and her do-gooder friends.”

Cinder chuckled. “You’re probably the last person in the world who would describe Sunset as a do-gooder,” she said. “Evidently you haven’t been keeping up with the news.”

“No, I heard,” Torchwick said. “Kid made the right call and got crucified for it. I could have told her that trying to be the hero is pointless; sooner or later you slip up and then nobody remembers all the good stuff you did beforehand.”

“Because you would know so much about trying to be a hero.”

“I know that we’ve only got one life,” Torchwick said. “And we ought to make the most of it instead of wasting it on other people who’ll never be grateful for it.”

“Oh, please,” Cinder said. “Roman, we’re all alone here so there’s no need to pretend. You’re not some lone wolf who only cares about himself; you care about somebody, you always have, or else you would have left Neo behind in jail instead of making her the price of your cooperation. You understand as well as I do that there are things more important than power or success, things that are worth sacrificing for; so why pretend?”

Torchwick was quiet for a moment. “Because the less people think I care about her, the less likely they are to try and hurt her to get to me.”

Cinder shook her head. “An observant person only needs to see the two of you together for a little while to see it. I noticed it immediately. That was always my plan if you tried to betray me: to use Neo to remind you where your loyalties lay.”

“I thought as much,” Torchwick muttered. “That’s why I kept her close.”

“As for the rest of your enemies,” Cinder said. “She can take care of herself.”

“Why do you think I taught her how to fight?” Torchwick asked. He frowned, for a moment. “This journey, to Mistral; how dangerous is it?”

“All journeys are dangerous nowadays, the world being what it is,” Cinder said.

“That’s a terrible answer.”

“If we do this right, and we leave in secret,” Cinder said. “Then we shouldn’t have to deal with more than ordinary trouble.”

“Huh,” Torchwick muttered. “So how did they do it? Melt your frozen heart?”

Cinder stared at him.

“Okay, okay, I was just trying to make conversation, sheesh,” Torchwick muttered to himself. He patted down his pockets. “I could really use a cigar right now,” he said absently. “I wonder if the authorities realise that they’re about to turn this whole city into a smugglers’ paradise.”

“It wasn’t one already?” Cinder asked.

Torchwick laughed. “Sure, the cops were dumb and even when they weren’t they could hardly be bothered to do their jobs, but at the same time it was so easy to get almost anything you wanted legit that there wasn’t a whole lot of call for it outside of the hard stuff, you know: guns, drugs, that kind of thing. But now? With borders coming down, with flights stopping, with communications between the kingdoms out, a lot of the little luxuries that people took for granted are going to become a lot harder to come by: Mistralian wine, Vacuan cigars, fruit from Menagerie, luxury food, the black market is gonna boom.”

“Is that why you came back to Vale?” Cinder asked. “So you could cash in on a new opportunity.”

Torchwick laughed again, but this time it had a self-deprecating edge to it. “Have you ever met anyone more ferocious than a Vacuan mobster defending his territory?”

“Me,” Cinder said.

“Yeah, right,” Torchwick said. “The point is that sure, I was going to get into the smuggling business, but from the Vacuo end. I had the contacts here to distribute the stuff, I just needed to make a connection to get the stuff from Vacuo. I found a guy to grow me some plants-“

“You mean weed,” Cinder said. “You were going to smuggle weed into Vale from Vacuo.”

“All the cool kids are smoking it, after all,” Torchwick said. “Only it turned out that there was somebody already shipping their own product into Vacuo, and the next day they sent me my botanist’s fingers in the mail.”

“So you came back to Vale because you got run out of Vacuo by the existing syndicates?” Cinder said. “It seems I underestimated you, Roman; I thought for sure it was your own weakness that drew you back here.”

“I like this city, but I don’t like it that much,” Torchwick said.

“I’m a little curious as to what makes you think that Mistral will be any more welcoming.”

“Anima’s bigger,” Torchwick said. “There must be somewhere that some local gang hasn’t already taken over.”

Cinder kept her thoughts – that if Roman did find some unoccupied piece of territory it was likely because there was something very wrong with it – to herself as Torchwick continued to lead her, now in silence, down the alleyways until they came to what looked, from the outside, to be a derelict store of some kind. Metal shutters were down over the windows, and a wire mesh door had been placed on top of the ordinary door beneath. Graffiti covered the walls and the metal shutters. Garbage bags were piling up outside.

“This is where we find your contact?” Cinder asked sceptically.

“It’s more sophisticated than it looks,” Torchwick said.

“That wouldn’t be difficult,” Cinder replied.

Torchwick didn’t answer that, but simply strode up to the mesh door and banged on it. “Hey, is anyone home?”

After a moment in which Cinder wondered if Torchwick hadn’t been completely mistaken about all of this, the door opened to reveal a dog faunus with bull-terrier ears growing out of his dark hair, wearing a dark t-shirt and carrying a sub-machinegun lightly in one hand. “Roman Torchwick,” he said in a kind of awed – at Torchwick’s audacity, Cinder assumed – surprise.

“Bullseye!” Torchwick said jovially. “Long time no see. Listen, I’d love to chat, but I need to the boss, okay?”

Bullseye – almost certainly not his real name, but then his real name didn’t really matter – raised his eyebrows. “You want to see the boss?”

“The little guy, yes,” Torchwick said. “I’ve got a proposition for him.”

Bullseye smirked. “Okay, you can see the boss. If only so I can see him pull your head off your shoulders. Come on in.” He opened the mesh door, and then stepped back to admit them into the dark and shadowy interior.

“Pull your head off?” Cinder asked.

“It’s all a big misunderstanding,” Torchwick assured her.

Cinder was not so sure, but she followed him inside regardless. It was as dark as it looked from outside the door, and as dingy and rather disgusting. Dust was everywhere, and she thought she saw a cockroach skittering across the floor and was glad that it wasn’t a rat.

And these are the people that we have to rely on. Perfect.

In addition to the mess there was also a great scarcity of furniture, with very little in the way of places to sit. The only chairs were being occupied by various young and cocky-looking thugs lounging around on threadbare and faded sofas with guns shoved into their waistlines. The only mature man was also the largest in the room by some considerable distance, a giant of a man with a bald head and a square cut beard, wearing a leather waistcoat over a faded t-shirt.

“Tiny!” Torchwick called enthusiastically, spreading his arms out wide as he approached, as though he were expecting.

“Roman Torchwick?” the big guy – Tiny – said, sounding even more surprised than his henchman had been. He scowled as he surged to his feet. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here after what you did.”

“Are you still mad about that?” Torchwick asked. “For the last time, I didn’t know she was your mother, and even if I had known she was the one who threw me onto the-“

“Shut up!” Tiny snarled. “Shut up! I’m going to kill you you son of a-“

“As amusing as it would be to watch Roman get what’s coming to him,” Cinder drawled, taking a step forward. “I’m afraid that I don’t have time for it. I’m here to talk business.”

Tiny stopped, and stared at her. “And who is this?”

“My name is Cinder Fall,” Cinder said. “And I have a proposition for you.”

“Does it involve me popping this guy’s head like a grape?”

“Unfortunately not,” Cinder said. “But it does involve me paying you a lot of money.”

Tiny grunted. “I’m listening.”

“I’m interested in passage to Anima for myself and my…associates,” Cinder said. “I understand that’s something you can help with.”

Tiny glanced at Torchwick. “You skipping town again, is that it?”

“Don’t talk to him, talk to me,” Cinder said. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

“Is that right?” Tiny said softly. “You know that passage to Anima ain’t so easy to come by these days.”

“That’s why we came to you,” Cinder said. “Were we wrong?”

Tiny sat down again. “I usually smuggle goods in and out, but people…recently, you’re not the first folks looking to get out. How many people?”

“Thirteen,” Cinder said. “And a dog, but only a very small.”

“A group that size is going to need some protection.”

“We can protect ourselves,” Cinder said. And if we can’t then no help you could give would have kept us safe.

Tiny nodded. “In that case…fifteen thousand lien a head, all upfront. Because I’m a nice guy I’ll throw in the dog for free.”

Cinder smiled. “One third up front, the rest when you get us to Anima. And don’t think of me as the kind of idiot who will hand over all her money to a man like you just because you ask for it.”

Tiny smiled. “I think of you as the kind of person who was desperate enough to get out that you came to me. Which means that we do things my way.”

“It also means that you don’t get any money at all when I walk out of that door,” Cinder said. “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust me to pay you the rest?”

“Trust is hard to come by around here.”

“Why do you think I won’t pay you everything up front?”

Tiny snorted. “Half now, half when you get to Anima.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Agreed,” she said. “So when does our ship leave?”

“Ship?” Tiny laughed. “You want a ship you find it yourself. You’ll take a barge upriver into the Forever Fall, there’s an abandoned compound there I use as a truck stop; one of my guys will drive you across the mountains and you’ll get on the boat on the east coast.”

“You want us to cross the entire continent?” Cinder repeated. “And pass through the forsaken lands east of the mountains.”

“There’s no law out there,” Torchwick said. “Nobody watching what comes or goes. The perfect smuggling route.”

“And you won’t be worried about the grimm,” Tiny said. “Seeing as how you can take of yourselves and all. So do we still have a deal?”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. The overland route would take longer than travelling by sea…but it wasn’t as though they had much choice if they wanted to be quiet about this. And they did have to be quiet, not so much for Cardin’s reputation – about which Cinder cared less than nothing – but because it wasn’t as though she or Sunset could get on public transport without risk. Even if there was any public transport still going to Mistral.

“Yes,” Cinder said, after a moment, because what other choice did she really have. “We still have a deal.”

River

Rivers

Time passed slowly on the barge that carried them out of Vale and up the river to the north-east, headed for the mountains the formed the spine of eastern Sanus and the limits of the Kingdom of Vale. Beyond lay the untamed eastern wilds, the land over which the Great War had begun but which had lain abandoned since that war, given over to the monsters. Beyond the mountains lay a hundred Mountain Glenns or more, and though they were older and smaller than the dead city Ruby found that it was no less tragic to imagine them all: the towns and villages gone, the light snuffed out, the life extinguished.

Perhaps it was not completely deserted, not completely given over to the grimm and to nature; perhaps there were still some people living there, natural outsiders who were willing to risk the grimm in order to live completely beyond the bounds of Valish law, to freer even than people on Patch or the more outlying settlements within the kingdom’s boundaries. Ruby hoped so anyway; she didn’t like to think of such a vast expanse of land just being left, dead and forgotten; she didn’t like the idea that mankind had just turned away from it all.

Perhaps, if there were people dwelling east of the mountains as she hoped, they might come across. That was where they were headed, after all; it was to the east that their road led; eastward, ever eastward, up the river and over the mountains then across the wilds to the farther shore. And then…then to Anima and Mistral.

She ought to have been happy about that. At least Ruby felt as though she ought to have been happy about that. They were going to see Jaune and Pyrrha; they were going to put their team back together, Team SAPR once more…for a little while, at least, before Sunset had to go away again. It should have made her happy, and it did, but only…only a little. If joy was like a fire then what Ruby felt at the prospect of reuniting their team was more like the glowing embers left behind.

The fire had been snuffed out some time ago.

Time passed slowly as the fat barge beat its way upriver, sailing against the current passing them by as it flowed westwards to the sea, leaving Vale behind and passing into the Forever Fall forest, where the ever-crimson trees pressed close against either bank, their roots bursting free of the soil to dangle their toes in the muddy water while the leafy branches hung out overhead like sundered lovers reaching, yearningly, to touch one another’s fingertips. They were pressed so thickly together that when she was on watch Ruby found that she could barely see into the forest on either side for the sheer number of trees so densely packed together, branches intertwining as the grass turned red beneath them.

The weather didn’t help with visibility or Ruby’s mood, or the mood of anyone on the barge for that matter. Whiffs of dark cloud had followed them upriver from Vale, although it was sometimes hard to see them because the sky was so grey and overcast above their heads that it wasn’t always possible to make out anything else. It either rained lightly or it poured down heavily, but there was never a time when it wasn’t raining, when you couldn’t hear something either pattering or hammering down upon the roof of the little cabin at the back of the barge or upon the blue tarpaulin that they raised above the main part of the barge as a little protection against the rain. It was the difference between Ruby needing to put her hood up when she was on watch or whether she could bear the raindrops falling on her head. The tarpaulin turned out to be not much help; it leaked in places, and in others it simply allowed water to pool up within it, sagging further and further downwards in the middle as the puddle grew until it burst, getting water everywhere.

The cabin, although most people retreated there as often as they could as a shelter against the rain, wasn’t much better. Yes, it had a roof, but everyone kept dripping water inside until the floor was completely soaked and there was nowhere dry to sit down.

Some people fared better than others; Sunset seemed able to tolerate the fact that her hair was ruined and she looked like a wet dog – no offence Zwei – while Cinder was a good deal more fastidious.

Ruby didn’t know whether it was the rain, which sometimes fell so hard that you couldn’t even hear the softly purring engine of the barge, that made people quiet or whether it was the company, but nobody talked to one another on this trip and it was one more thing that didn’t help her mood. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t completely silent: Sunset talked to her, and always wanted to know how she was doing, not to mention that she and Cardin both barked orders to everyone else, but there was no chatter, not like there would have been if this had been a mission with SAPR and RSPT, or if…if Yang had been there.

It was just one more thing that made this feel…empty, uncomfortable, not right. Ruby was doing the right thing but she took no joy in it. No joy at all.

In the absence of any talk it was easier to think about her new travelling companions by what they did rather than by what they said: the terrier faunus whom Torchwick called Bullseye whistled as he stood at the tiller, guiding the barge upriver; Neo would sometimes sit on the edge of the barge in spite of the rain, dangling her legs out over the water below; Bon Bon kept her helmet on and let the weather rattle off it, while Lyra kept her hat inside the cabin, preferring that her hair get drenched than her headgear ruined; Torchwick never went outside except to go on watch, and muttered under his breath about the state of his suit; Cinder seemed to be avoiding Ruby out of…Ruby wasn’t quite sure why, but she didn’t really mind not having to have much to do with Cinder Fall and so left it alone); Sami kept stealing glances at Ruby when she thought the other girl didn’t notice.

Someone (besides Sunset or her father) did speak to her, on the third night out of Vale; the rain had let up for the most part – not completely, that would have been too much like good fortune, but it was only drizzling on top of Ruby’s head, and she had her hood down because it wasn’t so bad as to do otherwise – and Ruby was standing on watch near the flattened, blunted prow of the barge. Bon Bon was on watch as well, looking to the other bank to Ruby. It was evening, or at least Ruby thought it was; with the sky the way it was difficult to tell for sure.

She heard the squelching footsteps on the deck before she heard Lyra’s voice behind her. “Are either of you two hungry? I thought you might be.”

Ruby turned around, although she tried to keep half an eye on the river bank all the same. Lyra was holding a pair of plates in her hands; the galley was well stocked with canned food…but unfortunately none of them had labels, making every meal a game of chance as to what you were going to end up with.

“I’m hungry,” Bon Bon acknowledged, taking off her helmet. “But dare I ask what the choices are?”

“We have spaghetti,” Lyra said, holding up one plate. “Or…beefy chunks in gravy.”

Bon Bon blinked. “As in…dog food?”

Zwei barked eagerly.

“Beef and gravy is beef and gravy, right?” Lyra said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“The beef,” Ruby and Bon Bon both said at once.

Bon Bon looked at Ruby. “…I was just being polite.”

“Are you kidding, canned spaghetti is, like, the worst thing that comes out of a can,” Ruby said. “Like you said, beef is beef.”

Lyra’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure?”

Ruby nodded.

“Okay then,” Lyra murmured, handing over the plate of beef chunks.

“Thank you,” Ruby said, as she hopped up onto the side of the barge. “Come on, Zwei.” Although there was a fork, Ruby picked up one chunk and popped it into Zwei’s mouth as he leapt up beside her, before using the fork to shovel a mouthful into her own mouth in turn.

Bon Bon took the plate of spaghetti, and began to eat it slowly, turning the worm-like pasta around and around her fork as it scraped upon the bottom of the plate.

Silence descended between them, for a moment at least.

“Ruby,” Lyra said, as the raindrops fell upon her head; upon all of her and all of the other two, actually. “I owe you an apology. We both do. We…all do.”

Ruby inhaled through her nostrils. “I’m not the only one,” she said quietly.

“We know,” Lyra said. “But Sunset scares me too much to say this to her face.”

Ruby couldn’t help but snort at that. “She might be pleased to hear that, but you wouldn’t say it if you knew her better.”

“Assuming that we want to,” Bon Bon said. “That’s the other thing, the thing that Lyra is too polite to mention.” She ate a small mouthful of spaghetti. “It’s hard to apologise to someone whose done things worse than you have.”

“Bon Bon,” Lyra clucked disapprovingly.

Ruby frowned. “You think so?”

“She let a whole horde of grimm into Vale,” Bon Bon said.

“And you helped…” Ruby fell silent for a moment. The barge wasn’t huge, and not everybody knew everything. “You helped you-know-who get one of the four you-know-whats.”

“I know,” Bon Bon said harshly. “And we’re sorry for that.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Lyra said quickly. “Even if she’s terrible at showing it.” She glared at Bon Bon momentarily. “We could blame it on Amber’s semblance but that would be…not right. And besides, it wasn’t as though letting Amber into our lives was the first mistake we made.”

Ruby tilted her head slightly to one side. “It wasn’t?”

“No,” Lyra said. “That was throwing Blake out of our lives.”

“She was-“ Bon Bon began.

“Bon Bon, stop,” Lyra said. “Just…stop, okay? Please?” She sighed, her body sagging forward a little bit. “It doesn’t matter what Blake was in the past, she proved herself valiant and stalwart through all the battles; at a time when she went to Atlas with General Ironwood and we went to prison don’t you think it’s about time to admit that we were wrong about her?”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. She stared down at her plate as though the wisdom of ages could be found in pasta out of a tin. “At least we got Dove out of it,” she said.

Lyra was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” she said. “I suppose we did.”

Ruby allowed the silence to drag on for a moment or two while she chewed on some beef chunks, the food unfortunately doing little to fill the cold empty feeling in her stomach. “You miss him?”

Bon Bon nodded. “He wasn’t the smartest guy, he wasn’t the bravest guy, but…he was our guy and he tried his best.”

“Not everyone can be you, or Pyrrha Nikos,” Lyra said. “Not everyone can be the greatest huntsman. Some huntsmen are just people trying their best, and that…we thought…maybe we liked to think that…that was us. We weren’t the cool team like Iron, we weren’t the rising stars like Sapphire…but we had one another and that…I tried to tell myself that was enough. And then…”

“It feels wrong to go on without him sometimes,” Bon Bon said, in a voice that was half a growl. “To have…Torchwick on our team instead of Dove, to replace him with that…that…sometimes I want to wring his neck. The fourth member of our team is Dove Bronzewing, not him.”

“Losing somebody’s never easy,” Ruby whispered.

Lyra winced. “This must all seem pretty petty to you, mustn’t it?”

“No,” Ruby said. “We don’t always get to choose who we care about, and how much we care about them doesn’t always have to make sense.”

Lyra nodded. “That was what I thought, when I was able to think about Amber. That was how I explained it, before I found out that she was just using her semblance on us all along. Mind you…when I think about it now…I think that our hearts still chose, in the end.”

“She means the answer to the question why us and not you guys,” Bon Bon said. “Why was Amber able to affect us and not you. And we think that it was because…because we wanted it.”

“You wanted to betray Professor Ozpin?” Sunset said, stepping out of from behind a pile of crates that had hitherto concealed her. She had a metal flask in her hand, the plastic cap removed and filled with gently steaming liquid.

Bon Bon frowned. “You’re one to take that tone about betrayals.”

“I told you to stop,” Lyra hissed at her.

Sunset inhaled through gritted teeth. “There are people who have the right to look down on me for what I’ve done,” she said. “And one of them is sitting over there. But I won’t take self-righteousness from someone who helped kill Professor Ozpin.”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Lyra said quickly. “She’s sorry.”

“Is that right?” Sunset said, her eyes fixed on Bon Bon.

Bon Bon couldn’t hold Sunset’s gaze. She looked down, back at her diminishing meal. “Yes,” she said, in a slightly sullen tone. “I’m sorry for everything we did. At least nobody died because of your betrayal, and you got to save all of your friends too, gah! You even do the wrong thing better than us!”

“It’s not your fault,” Ruby said. “Amber-“

“Could get in because we let her in,” Lyra said. “When I said…when I said that we had each other so that was enough…that was wishful thinking on my part. Maybe it should have been enough…but it wasn’t.”

“In her end of year address when we left Canterlot Combat School Principal Celestia told us to go out and make a difference in the world,” Bon Bon said.

“Oh, you made a difference alright,” Sunset muttered.

“Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully,

“She probably says that every year to the graduating classes,” Lyra said. “But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true, or that it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that her words aren’t worth taking to heart. It doesn’t mean that we didn’t take them to heart. Only…when we got to Beacon it didn’t seem like we were going much chance to live those words. We watched your team – and Blake – stride on ahead, going on missions, coming to the attention of Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood, defending Vale, and we…”

“When Amber came into our lives we thought…we thought that if we couldn’t make a difference to the big picture we could, maybe, at least make a difference to this one girl’s life,” Bon Bon said. “To make a difference was all we ever wanted.”

“And maybe we can,” Lyra said. “All four of us.”

“Four?” Ruby asked, wondering if they were thinking about the absent Dove or the detested Torchwick.

Bon Bon nodded her head towards Sunset. “We all helped break this kingdom,” she said. “But maybe we can put it back together again, if you tell us what’s really going on.”

Sunset snorted. “What makes you think that you haven’t been told what’s really going on?”

“Because Ruby’s here, for one thing,” Bon Bon said.

Sunset stared at the other girl flatly. “You know everything that you need to know, for now,” she said. Her ears bent downwards into her hair. “I know that you must like the idea of me judging you about as much as I like the idea of you judging me, and I know that I probably shouldn’t blame you for Amber’s semblance, it’s just…Professor Ozpin meant a lot to me.”

“That’s understandable,” Lyra said. “And we would never claim to be blameless for what we did, semblance or no semblance. We still did things and we have to live with them.”

“I know, believe me I know,” Sunset said.

“Do you think it’s possible,” Lyra said. “To really make amends?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset said. “I hope so, but I don’t know. The only thing I know we can do is do better next time.” She took a step forward. “You can both go inside, I’ll relieve you here.”

“My watch isn’t over yet,” Bon Bon said.

“It is now,” Sunset said. “Go.”

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment, before she nodded her head and – with Lyra – walked through the slightly water-laden barge towards the little cabin at the back.

The tip of Sunset’s tail was getting a little wet as it trailed in the water, as Sunset walked towards Ruby. She held out the flask with its plastic cap. “I brought you some…I hesitate to call it tea, but it’s hot…and brown, so it ought to be good for something.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said quietly, as she took the flask from Sunset’s outstretched hand. “I think they really do want to make things right.”

“I’m not surprised, that’s what we all want,” Sunset said. She leaned on the side of the barge, looking out towards the riverbank.

“Sunset,” Ruby said. “What are we going to do when…when we have to tell all these people the truth?”

“By that point I hope none of them will be in a position to do anything with the truth,” Sunset said.

Ruby nodded. “Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still have that journal?” Ruby asked. “The…” her voice lowered. “The magic one?”

Sunset looked at her. “It’s in my bag,” she said, one hand going to the satchel slung across her shoulder. “I keep it with me because…I don’t trust leaving all of my stuff where people like Torchwick or Jack could get at it. I swear, if I had any money Jack would be charging me to guard my stuff.”

Ruby frowned. “Guard it from what?”

“From his own base instincts,” Sunset said. “It’s only the fact that we’re all as broke as one another that stops him, I’m sure. There are some things that I prefer to keep close at hand. Why?”

“Can I borrow it?” Ruby asked. “I’d like to talk to Twilight.”

A spark of understanding flashed in Sunset’s eyes. “Of course,” she said, opening up the satchel and fishing out the thick, heavy journal with the blazing sun embossed upon it. “Do you need a pen?” Sunset asked as she handed Ruby the book.

Ruby took a sip of the hot brown liquid. “Yes, please.”

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Take as long as you need,” Sunset said. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks,” Ruby said, settling the book upon her knees – Zwei tried to sniff it, but she shooed him gently away – and opening it up.

Her hand trembled a little as she started to write.

Twilight? Are you there? It’s me, Ruby.

A moment passed, and then another. Words in reply began to appear below Ruby’s own hand.

Ruby, hi. It’s been a long time.

Yeah, it has. Has a lot happened for you since then?

You could say that. I became an aunt recently!

Really?

Yes, my brother and sister-in-law had their little filly.

What’s her name? Is she cute?

Her name is Flurry Heart and she’s most adorable little thing that you ever saw in your life. If you could see her, I mean. True, she did almost cause the destruction of the Crystal Empire – that’s the city her mother rules – but it wasn’t really her fault and you just can’t stay mad at a little sweetheart like her.

How does a baby almost destroy an entire city?

Magic in young fillies and colts can be wild and uncontrollable, it only settles down once they get a little older; unfortunately Flurry’s magic destroyed a very important magical artefact which kept away the cold weather – if you think of the Crystal Empire as being a little like the city called Atlas in your world, only instead of technology it uses a magical artefact called the Crystal Heart to make the tundra survivable – but with the help of my new student and an old friend of hers from magic school we were able to restore the heart and get Flurry’s magic under control so that none of this can happen again.

Ruby smiled. I’m glad. It’s good to hear that there’s still a place where things work out happily for everyone.

There was a pause on the other end of the book. I’m sorry, this must seem so insensitive, me prattling on about my neice and how happy I am.

No! Not at all. I’m really happy for you. I suppose Sunset told you then, about Yang?

She mentioned it. I’m sorry for your loss. How are you doing?

I’m okay.

You know that you don’t have to say that if it isn’t true.

Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. I’m sure that you’ll be a really cool aunt. She wrote. The kind of aunt that I won’t ever get to be, now. She found that it was surprisingly easy to imagine Yang with kids; she had such a big heart, with so much love to go around, and she’d practically raised Ruby after Mom passed away. She would have been a really cool mom, a supermom just like Mom, baking cookies and slaying monsters. Who the father was wasn’t really important, although when Ruby imagined Yang as a mom for some reason the father ended up looking a lot like Sun, which was weird and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. But that wasn’t the point, the point was that Ruby would have liked the chance to be a cool aunt, to teach her niece or nephew to be a complete badass the way that Uncle Qrow had taught her; she could imagine them really looking forward to her visits in between secret missions for Professor Ozpin that would imbue her with an air of dangerous mystery that would just make her seem even cooler.

“Aunt Ruby! Did you miss me? Did you miss me?”

“…nope.”

But that would never happen now. Yang would never have children, just like so much else that she would never get to do.

I don’t know how many people would honestly describe me as cool, but I’m going to try and be the very best aunt that I can be. I’m sorry, we’re talking about me again.

It’s fine, I didn’t really want to talk about myself anyway. I wanted to ask you something about your world.

Ask away.

The other Ruby Rose, the one in your home, do you know if she has a sister? Is there another Yang there who’s okay? Who’s still around? Could you ask her for me? I know it’s stupid, but it would make me feel, that is I’d like to know that she’s alright.

I will ask her for you, but I have a feeling that I might know the answer already.

Really? How?

There’s a series of books that I and my friend Rainbow Dash both quite like called Daring Do

You have Daring Do in Equestria?

You have Daring Do in Remnant?

Yeah. Yang wasn’t a big reader but she was a fan of those books.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised seeing as how they’re based on reality.

They are?

In Equestria, at least. All the adventures of Daring Do really happened to the author A K Yearling. I would guess there’s at least a good chance the same is true in your world.

But Daring Do is always fighting weird monsters. I mean I’m not talking about the grimm – although she does have to fight them sometimes, or avoid them, when they get in her way – even though she graduated from Atlas Academy at the top of her class Daring Do isn’t a huntress first, and she always ends up opposing made-up creatures that don’t exist.

What if they do and you just haven’t seen one yet? After all it wasn’t too long ago that you didn’t know that magic was real, but magic was always real even before you knew about it.

I guess you’ve got a good point there. But what does that have to do with Yang?

Because the latest book in the series, Daring Do and the Eternal Flame, features an older Daring Do who is starting to grow weary of travels and treasure hunts; that is until she crosses paths with a young adventurer named Yang Xiao-Long who reignites her zeal for adventure and reminds her of why she got into that life in the first place as together they foil another scheme of Ahuizotl.

Ruby smiled. Yeah, that sounds a lot like Yang. I’m glad that she got to live her dream somewhere, some place.

Do you still want me to talk to the other Ruby?

Yes, please. But thank you anyway, Twilight. I needed to know that. Thank you.

It was about mid-morning on the next day when they arrived at the first stop on their journey. It was still raining – between the highs and the lows the rain today was about middling, although it still plastered Sunset’s hair to the sides of her face – but nevertheless everyone had, for once, come out on deck as Bullseye guided the barge into a shallow bay alongside a wooden jetty. The jetty itself, once it reached the bank, turned into a wooden path laid out over the muddy ground, which ran past a little wooden hut and into the woods. It was a little hard to see due to the rain and the clouds, but in the gloom Sunset could see an old stone tower rising above the trees.

“Is this the place?” she asked.

Bullseye nodded. “That old tower’s been abandoned since who knows when. We built a shed for the trucks and cut a road out of the forest. This place gets left alone except for the railroad, which is nowhere near here.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Charlie, you want to give me a hand out here?”

There was no response. Everyone on the barge was waiting but there was no sign of this Charlie person, or any sound that might have come from him.

Bullseye frowned. “Charlie, get out here and help me out!”

Still no answer. There were no human voices, nor – now Sunset thought about it – any birds in the trees. There was nothing but the rain, and the gentle humming of the barge’s engine.

“What’s wrong?” Sunset asked.

“There ought to be someone in that hut to help out when a barge comes down,” Bullseye said, as he leapt out of the barge and onto the jetty. “Big guy, give me a hand with these,” he added, as he grabbed one of the heavy mooring cables and threw it to Cardin, who started tying the barge off against the pier.

Sunset also left the barge, scrambling over the side and onto the wet wooden planks. She heard someone starting to follow her, and looked back to see that it was Ruby.

“Wait here,” Sunset said, holding up one hand to stay her before returning her attention to the wooden planks which lay like a road over the water and onto the bank. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, but kept the muzzle pointing low to the ground as she walked past Bullseye and towards the hut. Her footsteps thudded upon the planks, as well as squeaking thanks to the water.

I suppose it’s possible he’s got his headphones on. Very loudly.

Yeah, that’s what it is.

Since when are we ever that lucky?

There was a camera mounted on the wall of the hut, which Sunset guessed went to that tower where the smugglers’ main base was. She waved at it, in case they really didn’t know she was here.

The hut had a metal latch, rusting a little but not too resistant to Sunset’s touch as she grabbed it – she was glad of her gloves, it was probably pretty cold to the touch – and flung the door open, stepping inside what turned out to be an empty little shed. Empty of people at least; there was plenty of stuff – a scroll, open but dark, possibly because the battery had run out; a fishing magazine; a pistol with some bullets lying on the desk beside it; an empty lunchbox – to indicate that someone had been here at some point.

But no one actually there now.

Sunset left the door open as she trotted back down the jetty towards the barge. “It’s empty,” she said.

“Maybe they went back to the tower because of the weather?” Bullseye suggested.

Sunset wondered if he really believed that. She looked at her travelling companions and tried to guess from their faces how many of them believed that.

I’d like to believe that, but…

“Do we have a Plan B?” Torchwick asked.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sunset said. “I’ll go check out the tower. If everything’s fine I’ll come back and let you know.”

“Alone?” Bon Bon said. “We’ll come with you.”

Sunset pursed her lips at that. She didn’t really want the company of Bon Bon, or either of her team-mates…but she thought about what she and Lyra had said last night, about wanting to do better, to make a difference. She wasn’t the only one with something to make up for, after all.

“Okay,” she said. “The four of us will go.”

“I-“ Ruby began.

“No, Ruby, you stay here,” Sunset said. “We can’t all go, after all. The point is that most of us stay here in case…just in case.” And, although I’d never say this to your face, if it comes a fight I’m not sure that you’d retreat instead of sticking it out no matter what. “We’ll go, everyone else wait here.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Jack said.

I know, Sunset thought, as Bon Bon, Lyra and Sky climbed out of the barge and onto the jetty. Sunset knelt down, motioning with one hand for Cinder to come closer.

Cinder, her expression slightly puzzled, leaned in, “Do you want to explain to me why you’re taking some of the weakest members of the group?”

“They volunteered.”

“Does my skill count for nothing if I don’t stick my hand up in time now?”

“I need you here,” Sunset whispered. “If you hear anything wrong then I need you to slip the cables and get under way, okay.”

Cinder’s eyes widened. “You want me to leave you behind?”

“I’ll try and come back,” Sunset said. “I just don’t want you to wait for me until it’s too late.”

“You want me to sacrifice you,” Cinder said flatly.

“I want you to make sure that Ruby gets to Mistral,” Sunset said. “I’m trusting you with my mission and my friend.”

“Ruby’s never going to leave you behind.”

“That’s why I’m telling you to do it, you’re the only one strong enough,” Sunset said.

“What makes you think I’ll do it?” Cinder demanded. “Would you leave me?”

“No,” Sunset said.

“Then why do you think I’ll abandon you?”

“Because I’m asking you too,” Sunset said. “Don’t sacrifice Ruby in a futile attempt to wait for me, okay? Just…don’t.” She stood up. “I’ll back as quick as I can,” she said more loudly. “With some good news,” she added, in a balance of hope and expectation. “Come on,” she added to the members of Team BLBL, who – a little to Sunset’s surprise – accepted her authority and fell in behind her as she led them down the plank road which wound between the crimson trees towards the tower.

As they got closer Sunset was able to see said tower better, as the obstacles of cloud and rain disappeared or lessened. It was, she began to see, more than just a completely isolated watchtower stuck in the middle of the wood (or predating the Forever Fall, depending on how old it was); rather it was the centre of what had been, at one time, a small fortress, with a circular outer wall ringing the perimeter and the ruins of various buildings – storehouse and stables and the likes, probably – still visible. Only the tower remained in any state of repair; the wall had as many holes in it as it had standing sections, and the other buildings were little more than stumps of stone tracing the outline foundations of what had been. Even the tower itself was starting to feel the effects of age, although someone, the smugglers presumably, had patched the holes in the walls with wood and corrugated iron and covered the roof with a tarpaulin like the one that had manifestly failed to keep them dry on the barge. There were no windows that Sunset could see but there were arrow slits through which the wind was whistling. There was no door at ground level, but rather a recently installed metal staircase led up to a door on higher up the tower, closer to the roof.

Just as they had patched the tower, the smugglers had strung wire mesh between the gaps in the wall and made a crude new gate out of scraps; but the gate was open, and prevented no obstacle to them getting in. Trees grew in what had been the fortress courtyard, and red grass and ferns overwhelmed what stones remained.

There was no sign of anyone within, and no sound coming from within the tower.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sky muttered.

“Lyra, scout the area around,” Sunset said. “Sky, check the door. Bon Bon, you and I will search the courtyard.”

“Okay,” Lyra said, her cloak rustling as she darted to the right, circling the outside of the wall, her sword drawn and held lightly in one hand.

The other three walked through the open gate. As Sky walked straight forwards towards the metal stairs, his halberd held warily in front of him, Bon Bon and Sunset split up, Sunset going to the right and Bon Bon the left.

Sunset found the garage first, built out of corrugated iron and wooden beams. It was behind the tower, and had been hidden out of sight until she made her way around the empty courtyard. Everything within the garage was consumed in shadow, hidden from her sight.

She could hear Sky’s footsteps rattling on the metal steps as Sunset walked inside the shadowy garage. Once she was inside she could make out a truck that might, at a pinch, be big enough to fit them all in.

If there was nobody here, for whatever reason that might be, there was no reason why they couldn’t take the truck regardless. They’d paid enough, after all. So long as it still worked.

Sunset approached the vehicle. She climbed up onto the sideboard and opened the door.

She started to clamber in when she felt something wet and sticky underneath her hand as she placed it on the seat. Wet and stick…and red.

Sunset wasted a moment staring at the blood on her fingertips before she leapt down out of the truck and ran out of the garage, dashing around the tower. She looked up to see that Sky had almost reached the door into the tower. Sunset whistled frantically for his attention. He stopped, and looked down at her. Bon Bon emerged into view as well, coming back the way that she’d come.

Sunset gestured furiously for Sky to get down, not speaking on the – admittedly slim – hope that they had not yet drawn the attention of anything that might still be here. If they could get back to the barge and set off again without-

The blast of purple energy – magic – tore the door to shreds and struck Sky squarely in the chest, knocking him off the ledge and hurling him backwards, propelled by the blast which bore him backwards and tore through his aura as he screamed. He flew beyond the wall of the ancient fortress and into the trees of the Forever Fall as his aura rippled over his body and his attacker emerged from out of the darkness.

It walked on two legs and upon a pair of cloven hooves, although it also moved with such a hunch that it could easily have gotten down on all fours like a beringel if it wished, save that in one hand in held a long staff with a glowing blue crystal that might have been – but Sunset thought it was not – ice dust in one hand. Its face was long, and slightly simian, not in the heavy fashion of the brutish beringels, but more like a baboon or something like that. Four horns crowned its head, and its arms and legs were completely covered with armour plates.

Its red eyes were fixed on Sunset.

“Sssssunset….Ssssshimmer.”

Sunset stared at it for a moment, this creature that in power if not in form she guessed to be cut from the same cloth as the one that had attacked her and Ruby at the house in Patch; and then once that moment was passed she ran.

She ran and she did not look back, although she heard a blast from behind her and heard besides – and more importantly – the clattering on the metal steps as the creature descended.

Sunset ran, and Bon Bon was running too but running in the wrong direction, running towards the creature, her voice echoing from out of her helmet as she charged, swinging her Morningstar.

Sunset intercepted her, and as she grabbed hold of Bon Bon she felt the other huntress pushing against her with all her strength in the moment before Sunset teleported away.

They reappeared in a burst of green light not far from the hut that sat upon the riverbank.

“Cast off!” Sunset yelled to the astonished people still on the barge. “Get underway, quickly!” To Bon Bon she added. “Get on the barge.”

“Sky-“

“I will go back for Sky and for Lyra,” Sunset said. “But in the meantime I need you to get on the barge right now.”

“I could have-“

“No, you couldn’t,” Sunset said. “I can explain it to you or I can go back for your friends but I cannot do both so shut up and get on the barge!”

She let go of the other girl, trusting that she would do as Sunset said, and teleported back to just outside the crumbling walls of the fortress.

She reappeared with a crack, which meant that she instantly had to move in case the creature found her by the sound. She crouched behind a tree, sneaking a peak out. The creature was still there, she could see it through the gaps in the fence. It looked annoyed, as far as you could tell with a face like that anyway.

It began to walk towards the open gate. Sunset bit back a curse. All it would have to do is follow the wooden trail and it would reach the barge, maybe before she found Lyra and Sky. Maybe she could bury it like she had the other, buy enough time for-

“Bon Bon? Sky?” Lyra shouted as she came running out of the woods towards the fortress. “I heard screa-“ her voice trailed off as she beheld the creature. She raised her sword. “What in the name of-“

The grimm seemed to almost smirk as it raised its staff.

Sunset teleported. She reached Lyra as the beam of purple, streaking from the staff, soared through the air towards her. She grabbed Lyra just before the beam reached her. She teleported away and the beam passed harmlessly through the space where she had been.

Sunset reappeared where she had deposited Bon Bon, who fortunately was-

“Lyra!” Bon Bon called, from on the barge.

“Go, get aboard,” Sunset said, a little less pleased to see that they had not cast off yet. Cardin had slipped the cables but he and Taiyang were holding onto them, their muscular arms straining against the effort of bodily holding the craft in place. At least the engine was still running.

“Sky?”

“I’m going back for him,” Sunset said.

“What was-“

“I don’t have time,” Sunset said quickly. She took a deep breath. She thought she still had enough for two teleports. Which was lucky, as two more was exactly what she needed.

She teleported away, and once more reappeared not far from the fortress.

No sooner had she materialised then she was hit in the chest by a bolt of purple magic.

Sunset winced as she was flung backwards and into a tree, shaking loose a crowd of red leaves to fall upon her like a crimson rain. The blast had not been strung enough to break her aura – she hadn’t been hit for so long as Sky – but she could feel that she was in the yellow even without having to check.

The grimm roared as it charged towards her, staff raised above its four-pronged head to club her into submission and then to death. Sunset grabbed a boulder of a promising size that she could see not far away and hurled it with a mix of telekinesis and wind, slamming the rock into the side of the creature and knocking it sideways while Sunset scrambled to her feet and began to run.

Sky had been blown directly south, back towards the river, so if she kept on heading in this direction from the tower then-

She had to swerve to avoid a blast of magic from the staff – was it really a staff, or was it a part of the grimm that looked like a staff? Sunset had no time to consider the matter – that this ape-like grimm was carrying as it caused an explosion beside her, blowing apart the grass and showering damp mud into the air.

Sunset turned, skidding a little on the slipper ground, and slammed one hand down onto the soil. As the grimm charged after her a hole opened up in the ground beneath its feet as the soil in the earth appeared above him; but unlike the last this monster was too nimble to be caught out by that trick, he leapt deftly aside the hole to reach the ground beside it as the mud and muck that Sunset had displaced dropped harmlessly into the pit from whence it had been drawn.

Gritting her teeth Sunset cast another spell, this time raising up a wall of earth in front of her as the ground changed shape to throw up that stout barrier between her and her pursuer.

She started to run again, having little hope that the barrier would hold for long.

A blast behind her told her that if it hadn’t already breached the wall then it would soon.

Sunset channelled magic through her feet, something that she wasn’t so practiced at but which did have the advantage of not requiring her to stop and stand still to do it. With every step she took she through up more barriers between her and her pursuer, pillars of earth – dry earth would have been better, but she didn’t have time for that – to obstruct the way between her and her pursuer. Conscious of the fact that she needed to keep enough unicorn magic on hand for one last teleport back to the barge with Sky, Sunset began to use pegasus magic, blasting a wind behind her, a hurricane strong enough to rip the ever-crimson trees up by their roots and hurl them backwards into the face of this second of the too-strong grimm who had crossed their path.

And how did it find us in the first place? Sunset thought as she squelched through the mud, hearing the roars of her pursuer and the pounding of its hooves.

And then she found Sky. He lay on the ground, among the roots of a cracked tree, still and unmoving, his body bent at an unnatural angle like a snapped twig holding together by a little strip of bark. The blast of magic that had hurled him here had not only broken his aura but burned a hole in his cuirass and left black burned flesh beneath.

He was dead, Sunset saw as she skidded to a halt beside him, his eyes were open but lightless, his face was frozen in a rictus of pain and fear, he was not breathing.

He was gone.

Sunset screwed her eyes shut. If she had never, if she had only…there was no time for that now. All she could do for Sky now was spare his body further desecration.

She grabbed hold of him, and as the grimm bore down upon them both she teleported away.

No sooner had she reappeared upon the wooden steps than Sunset began to run, awkwardly holding Sky’s limp and lifeless form in her arms. She slipped on the wet wooden boards and tumbled to the ground. Strong arms helped her up. Cinder’s arms.

“Here,” Cinder said. “I’ve got you. Both of you.”

“I told you to go,” Sunset said as she regained her feet.

“And I decided I was strong enough to ignore your bad decisions,” Cinder replied, taking Sky from out of Sunset’s arms and cradling him in hers.

Together they ran back to the barge, where Cardin and Taiyang were still holding the cables taut against the desire of the fat craft to drift back into the river.

“Let go!” Sunset yelled as she and Cinder leapt aboard, and no sooner had the words left her lips than the two strong men released the cables and the barge began to slip sideways out of the little bay and bay and back towards the channel.

“Sky,” Lyra moaned. “Is he-“

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “Get us out of here.”

“What happened-“ Bullseye began.

“They’re all dead, go!” Sunset snapped.

As the barge regained the channel Sunset’s attention was drawn by a cry from Ruby, who raised Crescent Rose to point in the direction from which Sunset had just come.

Sunset turned to see the grimm that had been waiting for them – the grimm that had killed Sky – pounding down the wooden boards towards them, its staff aglow.

Sunset raised her hands, and a shield of green spread out across the entire flank of the barge against any attack that it might make against them.

But the grimm did not attack. It simply stared at them, its red eyes like burning embers, as the barge carried them upriver and away.

Strategy Sessions

Strategy Sessions

They had laid Sky to rest in one of the small boats that hung over the sides of the barge; then lowered the boat down into the water and let the river take it and him. With good fortune he would be borne backwards on the current all the way to the ocean and then…then fate and the tides would have their way.

Given that it would have been unwise to stop and give that thing the chance to catch up to them, it was the best that they could do for him.

Once he was dead, anyway.

Sunset stood near the flattened, snub-nosed prow of the barge; the darkness was all around her, and still the grey clouds loomed overhead, blocking out both moon and stars as the rain descended upon her head, pattering upon the roof of the cabin, falling on everything.

Sunset barely felt the rain. Her mind was back at the tower, replaying over and over again in her mind everything that had happened. Everything that she’d done wrong.

My mistake was letting them come with me just because they volunteered to; I could have gotten out by myself…assuming that I didn’t get caught with that first shot.

My mistake was in not heading back to the barge when we reached the tower and found that the whole place was too quiet.

My mistake was in not sailing on when we reached the pier and there was nobody there to greet us like there should have been.

“Mind if I join you?”

Sunset looked around, a little startled by the sound. The voice was that of Taiyang, Ruby’s father; he loomed over her just a little bit in the darkness and the overcast sky, the rain dripping off his pronounced muscles.

“I…if you wish, sir,” Sunset said. She turned away, and leaned upon the side of the barge. “Though I can’t think why you’d want to.”

“You look as though you could use the company,” Taiyang said as he joined her at the prow. He, too, seemed to be ignoring the rain that descended from on high upon him. He was silent for a moment, as he clasped his hands together in front of him. “Did you know him?”

“Sky?”

Taiyang nodded. “The boy who died.”

Sunset shook her head. “No. I didn’t know him at all. We’d never even spoken.”

“But he was under your command and so losing him bothers you anyway.”

“Shouldn’t it?” Sunset replied, turning her head to look at the older huntsman. “Isn’t that how a leader is supposed to feel?”

“Yes,” Taiyang said bluntly. “You were responsible for his life, and if you didn’t feel that responsibility you’d be a terrible leader.”

“I’m not a great leader anyway,” Sunset muttered.

“You’ve lost someone,” Taiyang said. “But you’ll lose more than that if you give into despair and let the enemy take up space in your head.” He paused. “You never got around to Port’s Military Strategy class, did you?”

Sunset blinked. “Professor Port teaches Military Strategy?”

“If you’d stuck around in school until second year you would have found out there’s a reason he’s a teacher at Beacon,” Taiyang declared. “One of the first lessons that we ever learned in that class was that battles are fought on the field but won in the mind. If you start thinking of yourself as a screw-up then guess what? You’ll keep screwing up, and more people will die.”

“Whereas what?” Sunset asked. “If battles are won in the mind then can I keep them all alive by positive thinking?”

Taiyang wasn’t amused. “There are times when you can’t save everyone. And there are times when you could have saved someone you didn’t save. The trick is to recognise the difference between one and the other, and learn from the one time without letting the other time beat you down and break you.”

“Is that what you did when you were a huntsman?”

“I was never a leader,” Taiyang said. “Summer, Ruby’s mother, she was the leader. And when things didn’t go just right she would spend hours afterwards running over every decision in her mind, trying to figure out exactly where she went wrong so that she could get it right the next time.”

“Sounds diligent.”

“At times it verged on obsessive,” Taiyang said. “There comes a point when you’re not really learning anything new about what happened or what you did, you’re just beating yourself up for the sake of it; because it feels like you ought to beat yourself up.”

Sunset was silent a moment. “If you’ll forgive me, sir, it’s a little hard to imagine the great Summer Rose as having much that she needed to beat herself up for.”

Now it was Taiyang’s turn to not speak for a little while. “We all make mistakes,” he said, in a tone that made it clear that he had neither the desire nor the intention to travel any further down that road. At least not with Sunset Shimmer as his travelling companion.

Sunset didn’t press upon the point. She accepted his will in this. If he was going to talk to anyone about his late wife and these hypothetical mistakes she may or may not have made then it should be their daughter, not some stranger that he barely knew however gamely he was trying to help her right now.

“I shouldn’t have let them go with me,” Sunset said. “I felt…after talking to Lyra and Bon Bon last night I felt as though they deserved a chance, but…it’s a little funny when I think of how I was when I came to Beacon, but it seems I’ve gotten too used to working with a team. I’ve forgotten that there are times when I might work better on my own.”

“Because of your magic,” Taiyang said.

Sunset felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I don’t know-“

“I know that you’re of an age where you think that everybody over the age of twenty is a senile old fool, but that doesn’t actually make it so,” Taiyang said. “I’ve seen enough magic to know it when I see it.”

Sunset exhaled slowly, and very deliberately. “I…” she chose her words with care. “I would like to apologise if you thought I was treating you like an idiot,” she said. “But I would also like to ask that you not shout it around, sir.”

“I’m used to keeping secrets too,” Taiyang said, and Sunset noticed that his voice had dropped in volume. “So what happened? You’re not a Maiden, I’ve seen what they can do; did Oz give you this? It’s a step up from the gifts he gave to Qrow and Raven.”

Sunset shook her head. “No, this…this is all mine, I was born with it,” she said. “Much good it did me today.”

“Born with it,” Taiyang repeated. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

Sunset tapped her fingers upon the wood in front of her. Through her gloves she could feel the roughness of it. “There are things about me that Ruby knows,” she said. “But which, with all due respect, I don’t know you well enough to share.”

Taiyang nodded. “I can understand that. If Ruby still trusts you after knowing the truth then that’s good enough for me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sunset said softly. “What I will say is that I was born with abilities that have a wide variety of uses, some of which you’ve already seen, some of which aren’t actually that dissimilar from the powers of Maidens.”

“The storm you created back at the house,” Taiyang said. “Yeah, that was familiar. If I hadn’t seen you shooting laser beams out of your hands at the same time I might have thought you were a Maiden.”

I was, but only for a little while. “That would have been too much power in the hands of one person,” Sunset said. “Or at least that’s what I thought until very recently.”

Taiyang nodded. “Never be afraid to admit when you were just outmatched,” he said. “Summer never liked to run, but Raven used to say that there was no shame in getting out when to stand meant to die. Even if she ran too far in the end she was right in principle.” He shook his head. “And I thought that I’d seen the worst of the monsters in the world. I take it you don’t know what they are?”

“I know that they’re not ordinary grimm,” Sunset said. “I know that they’re tougher than ordinary grimm, that they don’t die or even get hurt so easily and I know that they have magic powers, which shouldn’t even be possible. But no, I don’t know what they are, where they come from or how many of them there are.”

“You think there are more than two of them?”

“I don’t think we can arbitrarily say that there are only two of them,” Sunset said. She scratched the back of her head. “Sir…I wouldn’t ask this ordinarily, but in the circumstances…is there anything you know that could help Ruby train her silver eyes?”

“Yes!”

Sunset paused, then turned around, placing one hand upon her hip. “And how long have you been listening, Ruby Rose?”

Ruby slunk out from behind the pile of boxes. “Long enough,” she admitted. “Not as long as it took you to realise that my silver eyes aren’t something to be ignored.”

Sunset sighed as she ran one hand through her hair. “This isn’t something that I take lightly,” she said, speaking to both Ruby and Taiyang at once. “But…Ruby’s eyes are a light to burn away the darkness, and it might be our best chance, or perhaps the only one.”

“Ruby’s eyes didn’t stop the thing at our house,” Taiyang reminded them.

“No, but it did slow it down which is more than either of us could say,” Sunset replied. “And maybe with some actual training…I don’t know if it will work, but people are dying and I don’t know if we can afford to turn our back on what an asset Ruby has.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t ignored it up until now-“ Ruby began.

“Nobody likes the person who says ‘I told you so’, Ruby,” Sunset said. “It’s a very unattractive trait.”

Ruby looked down at the soggy floor of the barge. “Sorry,” she said. “I just meant…since I’m fighting anyway, since I’ve always been fighting, then I might as well use every weapon that I’ve got to fight. I never understood why none of you got that, why you all wanted me to pretend that I didn’t have this power.”

“Because we didn’t think you needed it,” Sunset said. “And because we were worried about the toll that it would take on you. I still am, that’s why I don’t like to bring the subject up.”

“I don’t like that you brought it up either,” Taiyang said, in a voice that was almost but not quite a growl. “But I can see why you did.”

“Dad, I can do this,” Ruby said. “I want to do this.”

Taiyang looked at her. “That was never the issue.”

“What if Sunset’s right?” Ruby said. “What if my eyes are the only weapon we have against these things?”

Taiyang clenched his jaw visibly. “I suppose…I suppose that the effects…the effects might lessen if you get better.”

“Then there’s something you know?” Ruby asked.

“I’m not an expert,” Taiyang said. “But I spent enough time with your mother that I might have picked up a few things.”

Ruby did not look elated, as Sunset had thought that she might have done; rather she looked quietly glad, with resolve rather than excitement flickering in her silver eyes. “So when do we start?”

“Not right now,” Sunset said. “Practice, of course, but I’d rather you did it somewhere more private than here. Some people on this barge know far too much already.”

Ruby looked around. “There isn’t a lot of room for privacy here.”

“There will be,” Sunset said. “Soon.”

“Does that mean you’ve figured out our next move?” Taiyang said.

Sunset shook her head. “No, it doesn’t, I just know that we need to make one. We can’t keep going up river indefinitely.” She tapped her fingers upon the wood. “I was hoping that you might have some idea as to our next step, sir, seeing as how you’re the most experienced huntsman amongst us by some distance.”

“Experienced, sure, but I’m not a traveller,” Taiyang said. “I can’t guide us over the mountains and across the eastern half of the continent to reach the coast any more than I could find us a boat when we got there.”

“Somehow I doubt our smuggler friend is going to guide us now,” Sunset said. “He’s sticking with us out of fear, but the moment we leave the barge he’ll be gone and headed back home. I was hoping that-“

“I understand,” Taiyang said. “And if Qrow were here I’m sure that he’d know a way, but I’m not so well travelled; my career has been shorter than his, and I spent most of it in Vale.”

“I know that huntsmen crossing the mountains often use Stallion Pass, and that we might find supplies hidden there in the old fortress,” Sunset said. “But I wouldn’t know where to go from there.”

“How do you know there’d be supplies in the pass?” Ruby asked.

“Because Professor Port told a story about it,” Sunset said. “He said that huntsmen take what they need from the cache and leave what they can for the next group to come that way. His group took medicine for an injured comrade and left food.”

“You paid attention to one of Professor Port’s stories?”

“I’m afraid that getting to Stallion Pass would be pointless if we had no idea where to go from that point,” Taiyang said. “There’s a lot of ground to cover once we clear the mountains.”

“I know,” Sunset said. “I have an idea but…I am loathe to go through with it.”

“Let’s hear it, since it seems to be the only idea,” Taiyang said.

“Jaune’s sister is – or was, I don’t know what their status is at the moment – a member of the Survey Corps,” Sunset said. “She might know how we can cross the country, and find a port of some kind on the other side. But it means backtracking to Jaune’s home village, and besides that…I’m not sure that I want to get Jaune’s family involved in this. I’d like to be able to look him in the eye when we reach Mistral.”

“We have to get to Mistral before you can look him in the eye,” Taiyang pointed out.

“We all want to get to Mistral, but that doesn’t mean that we can ask Jaune’s sister to put her life on the line for us,” Ruby said. “Just because she’s his family doesn’t mean that she chose to be a part of this.”

“I know, that’s why I don’t really want to ask her if I have a choice,” Sunset said. She frowned. “It doesn’t matter while we’re still on this barge, so we have time to think about it for a little while longer. Who knows? Maybe a better idea will present itself before we need to put our…not so good idea into action.”

The weather cleared up the next day – and about time too, in Sunset’s opinion – as they reached a point at which the river was divided in two by a large island in the centre of the channel, which beyond the island opened up on a broad bay.

Upon the island had been raised a great statue, or at least Sunset thought that it must have been great once, when it marked the border of some ancient realm or stood as the monument to some great victory; now nothing remained but two vast and trunkless legs of stone, sitting upon a grey plinth surrounded by water, while it seemed that the rest of the statue had been snapped off, with a clean shearing break travelling from just below the left knee downwards towards the right ankle. Sunset looked around, and upon the left side of the river – the side of the river on which they had disembarked so ill-fatedly before – she beheld the head that had once adorned the fallen and, for the most part, vanished statue: the face of a king, a crown of stone atop his head, his expression stern, the blank stone eyes seeming to stare at Sunset as she sailed down the river.

Nothing beside remained, and the water beat on towards the sea and the barge travelled onwards in the opposite direction; who he had been, to whom this statue had been raised, and why and when, whether he had raised it to his own glory or been honoured by his obedient sons and heirs, whether he had deserved the honour or been flattered by it beyond his deserts…of all of that Sunset was wholly ignorant. Of all of that the world was as ignorant as they were of the existence of all that was left of his monument to a glory that was vanished more permanently than the statue itself. How it had fallen Sunset likewise could not say: perhaps the grimm, driven by a hatred not only of men but of the works of men, had torn it down somehow; perhaps some strong semblance had been used to slice through the stone. Perhaps time had simply worked in an unusually precise way.

Dust to dust.

Cinder came to stand at the bow beside her. “What are you thinking?”

Sunset sighed. “I was thinking that I wanted a statue once.”

Cinder looked at her out of the side of her smouldering eyes, as though she wasn’t quite sure if Sunset was joking or not. “Me too,” she said softly.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

“You have such a hard time believing?”

“You always struck me as being more focussed on the realities of power than the gaudy trappings that so enthralled me.”

“You don’t think that there’s something gaudy about the ability to create storms while hovering six feet up above the ground, one’s eyeballs burning dramatically?” Cinder asked.

Sunset snorted. “You have a point there.”

“That hadn’t occurred to you until now?” Cinder asked. “I thought that might have been a reason you gave my magic away: it had become too gaudy for you.”

“Don’t start,” Sunset said. She shook her head. “For me, it was only ever half about the power itself. I’d seen Princess Celestia wield power without recognition – not that everypony didn’t know she was in charge, she was no Professor Ozpin; rather what I mean is that although she reigned without doubt she rarely ever seemed to rule while I was her student; she preferred to nudge ponies into doing what she wanted rather than giving them their orders.” Sunset paused. “I could never have done that. I wouldn’t have had the patience. I didn’t just want to have power I wanted to be acknowledged for it, to have statues raised in my honour and songs sung of my name.”

“And you think I didn’t?” Cinder asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sunset said. “Like I said, I always thought you were more focussed on the simple fact of being powerful.”

“I want to be powerful,” Cinder murmured. “I want to be strong. I want to be feared. To be feared, Sunset; you can’t be feared unless people know full well how strong you are. I wanted a statue too; I just didn’t need it to be built by the grateful beneficiaries of my magnificence; a monument raised by fearful slaves to placate me would have done just as well.”

Sunset turned to look at her. “I would very much like to think that you’re joking; unfortunately I don’t think you entirely are.”

“We’ve both been things that we are not now, and not proud of either,” Cinder said.

“We were both fools,” Sunset said. “It will all turn to dust in the end.”

“So will our bodies,” Cinder replied. “It almost makes you wonder what the point of it all is.”

“The moment is the point,” Sunset said. “I think that’s it, anyway. The now and what we have in it.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “I have to say,” she said. “This particular moment is leaving something to be desired.”

Sunset covered her mouth with one hand to try and stifle a chuckle. “You…you’re not alone in thinking that.” She sighed. “No, you are definitely not alone.”

“You’re not blaming yourself too badly, are you?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I’m just blaming myself.”

Cinder was silent for a moment, before she said. “Do you have a new plan?”

As the barge passed the island and entered the bay, Sunset straightened up and raised her voice. “Take us in here, on the right bank. We’ll disembark there.”

A corvid cawed in the woods that grew on either side of the river as the barge glided in towards the bank, striking the earth with a gentle thump. The entire group, minus Bullseye whom Sunset suspected would be heading back to Vale as fast as he could, disembarked, offloading all the supplies that they could save only for a little food for their pilot who had, after all, done all that he had been required to do.

Sure enough, as soon as the company was off his barge and on the wooded riverbank Bullseye reversed the engine, and Sunset watched as the barge retreated backwards away from the bank and began to turn in that wide bay, pointing its fat bow in the direction in which the water flowed, towards Vale and home.

Sunset wouldn’t have been surprised at all if there were some who would have rather gone with him than stayed where they were.

“You know, before we go any further,” Torchwick said. “I think that some of us are owed a little bit of an explanation.”

And there are some I probably should have sent back with him, Sunset thought.

Cardin folded his arms. “And what makes you think that you’re owed anything, Torchwick?”

“Well, maybe owed was the wrong word,” Torchwick said. “Maybe what I should have said was ‘if you expect me to take one more step you’re going to have pay me with some straight answers first’.”

“You never asked for answers when you were working for me,” Cinder reminded him. “You never asked me any questions at all.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I asked the questions,” Torchwick replied. “You just never gave me any answers is all.”

“And you went right on robbing and murdering just the same,” Cinder said. “You certainly never stamped your foot like a two-year old until I unfolded my aims to you.”

“It didn’t bother me so much then because I thought I had you figured out,” Torchwick said. “I thought you were someone like me, someone who wanted to tear down the system and build something better in its place.”

“Don’t paint yourself as some kind of revolutionary,” Cinder said. “Whatever you thought my objectives were you certainly didn’t share them.”

“No, I just shared an interest in acquiring money and power, which I’m not getting here,” Torchwick said. “And now I think we all share an interest in staying alive. And frankly, after the fine mess you’ve gotten us into I’m starting to learn the importance of asking all the questions. Like what the hell was that thing back at the tower? And what are we really doing out here?”

“You know what we’re doing out here,” Cardin said.

“Oh, please,” Torchwick said. “If this was just about snatching some guy then you wouldn’t have brought little red and her pops and we wouldn’t be being followed by whatever that was back there. So why don’t you tell us what’s really going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I really can’t imagine why I wouldn’t share everything with someone like you. You know all that you need to know: we’re going to Mistral, and you’re going to get your freedom when we get there.”

“I think we need to know what that thing was,” Torchwick said.

“I agree,” Bon Bon said, albeit with a hint of reluctance in her voice. “Sky died because we didn’t know what we were walking into.”

“We still don’t,” Sunset said. “I’ll admit that there is something about our mission that you don’t know, but when it comes to that creature I don’t know any more than you.”

“Once you’ve admitted to keeping secrets why should we believe that isn’t one of them?” Jack said.

“I don’t know,” Sunset said candidly. “It doesn’t really matter whether you believe me or not because in case you haven’t noticed the boat just left, just like you left it a little late to have this conversation because there isn’t any way back to Vale any more unless any of you fancy a walk through the woods. So you can stay here and grumble or you can accept that you know what you know and do the job.”

Torchwick raised his hand.

Sunset growled. “What?”

“The plan was that we were going to get a ride across country to the coast,” Torchwick said. “That’s not happening, so what’s the plan now?”

Sunset’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t have a plan, do you?” Torchwick said.

“It’s a work in progress,” Sunset admitted.

“I’ve got an idea,” Sami said, a smile playing across her features as she said it. “We need to get across the mountains across the eastern territory, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said, slowly and not without suspicion. “That’s right. And find a boat to Anima at the other end.”

Sami reached up and scratched around one of her caribou antlers. “I can’t say for definite that I can find us a boat, but I think I can get us to somewhere you could find a boat with a bit of luck.”

“How?” Ruby asked.

“My people are nomads,” Sami explained. “We roam around, sometimes outside the kingdoms. I left the tribe but I still remember the routes we used.”

Sunset glanced at Cardin, then at Ruby; neither of them voiced any objections or showed it on their faces. “Go on,” she said.

“We can cross the mountains via the Pass of the Raven, then go through the Goat’s Cleft,” Sami said. “Once we’re out the other side I think I can remember an eastern trail.”

“And what about your people?” Sunset said. “Will we find them, too?”

Sami shook her head. “It’s the wrong time of year to cross the mountains; if that happens it happens in summer when the weather is at its best; they’ll only just be coming out of wintering wherever they spent that, and deciding where to go next.”

“And a boat?” Sunset said. “How do we get to Anima?”

“There are a couple of port towns we used to trade with,” Sami said. “I can find them.”

Sunset nodded. She didn’t say anything for a moment as she considered Sami’s suggestion. On the one hand it was Sami, not the most trustworthy person that Sunset knew, but on the other hand…Torchwick was right, they didn’t have another plan. Taiyang was not widely travelled enough to be their guide, Sunset really didn’t want to involve Jaune’s sister if she had another choice even if you left aside the travelling to go to Jaune’s home and even if you assumed that she would help if she was asked; eastern Sanus was so strange to the rest of them that it might as well have ‘here be monsters’ written on the map. Was there a better choice available? Not really, not that Sunset could see; the biggest risk that they would encounter Sami’s people on the way, but if that was the case then Sunset was more confident in the ability of the wider group to fend them off than she was in facing some of the other potential dangers that hemmed them in.

She glanced again at Cardin, who gave a slight nod of the head in agreement. Ruby did the same, and Cinder too; all those whom she actually trusted were – however begrudgingly – in favour of this.

“Okay,” Sunset said. “The Pass of the Raven it is.”

And so they had a new direction – Sami helped Cardin to plot the course on his map – and through the rest of that day they travelled towards the mountains and the pass that Sami knew. As the darkness fell they came to a hill upon which stood the ruins of some ancient seat, where graven statues of old men, worn and weathered by the decay of years, stood garlanded by crowns of daisies on their brow and robed by moss that grew upon the stone; where the stumps of crumbling columns reached towards the sky and fragments of wall and seemed to grow amongst the trees; where stone stones had once been raised to ease the passage up the hill but now the weeds had split and cracked said stones. The walls offered a little shelter from the wind, and there were enough remains of a second floor rising above the first that there would even be shelter from the rain if it returned, and so as the night was falling they made camp there, and lit a fire in the centre of the ruin as darkness surrounded them.

Cinder took watch, standing atop the second floor and looking out across the forest, as still at times as one of the fading statues that surrounded them, at other times stalking from one position to the other with the grace of a panther, the moonlight glinting off the glass bow that she held lightly in one hand.

As the fire died, and the rest of the company slept, Sunset sat with her back to a fallen column and took out her journal.

Twilight, are you there? I really need your help with something.

Is Ruby okay?

As good as she can be in the circumstances. Her father is going to help her unlock her silver eyes.

I thought that you didn’t like the idea of her doing that.

I don’t, but in the circumstances I can’t really oppose it any more. Someone’s dead.

I’m so sorry. Who?

Nobody whose name you’d recognise. Not a friend, nor even close. But he was under my command and that makes me responsible for what happened to him just as it makes me responsible for what happens to everyone else here.

What did happen?

Something got him, but I don’t know what it was. Not a grimm, not like any grimm I’ve come across before; even Ruby’s father, a more experienced huntsman, has never seen anything like or like the other special creature that attacked us at Ruby’s house. It wasn’t made of magic like the rest of them are, but it had magic. It could do magic, Twilight, and strong magic too. No grimm should be able to do that.

And you think that Ruby’s silver eyes will provide a defence against it?

They slowed the thing at Ruby’s house; maybe they can do more with training. I don’t know, but I can’t afford to stand in the way of Ruby moving forward any longer.

You just wish there was something you could do as well, right?

Right. My best shot only seemed to irritate it; that’s the one at Ruby’s house, I didn’t stick around to fight the thing that killed Sky; I focussed on getting the other two out of here.

That sounds like a reasonable decision in the circumstances.

But, even if unicorn and pegasus magic can’t hurt these new things – whatever or whoever they are – enough to stop them, I have an idea for something that might. But you can’t tell Celestia that I asked about this. I mean it, Twilight, this has to stay between the two of us.

The fact that you felt you had to say that is a little worrying.

Sunset took a deep breath. A silver light can burn away the darkness, but perhaps a deeper dark can swallow it up also. Can you teach me dark magic?

Dark magic? That’s your plan? If Celestia knew about this

That’s why you can’t say anything to her.

You know that I should. I can’t believe that you don’t know all the reasons why dark magic is forbidden.

I know that the thing I fought at Ruby’s house was able to overpower my magic with his own. Straight up, beam to beam, and it was stronger than I am. I would have died if it weren’t for Ruby and her silver eyes. The strength of dark magic

Comes from hate and fear, you must know that. Aren’t those the very things that attract grimm?

Are you saying that you won’t help me because you’re worried that I’ll get eaten by a beowolf mid-lesson.

I don’t want you to do this because dark magic is corruptive. The more you use it the more it will make use of you in turn.

People are dying, Twilight; you say that dark magic is powered by hate and fear but I’m scared already. What if it’s Ruby next, or Cinder?

What you’re talking about might help you to defeat your enemies, but at what cost to yourself?

If it keeps Ruby and Cinder safe it will be worth it.

Even if you lose the very feelings that make you want to protect them now? You don’t know what it does to you, Sunset; you might think you do, but you don’t. I won’t help you destroy yourself.

Even if there’s no other way?

You already have a better way in Ruby.

I don’t want to put all the pressure on her; it isn’t fair.

I’m sure she’d rather that than what you’re proposing.

I can’t be helpless and reliant on Ruby. I can’t lose a friend to these new monsters.

You’ll lose all your friends if this goes wrong.

I understand that you’re concerned

I don’t understand why you’re being so unconcerned.

Because there is nothing that any dark power could do to me that I haven’t already done to myself. I found my way out of the hole once, I’ve learned my lessons already; if I have to I’ll just climb out again.

I can’t talk you out of this, can I?

No. And if you’d seen what I was up against you wouldn’t try.

There was a moment in which no more writing appeared in the journal. I suppose you want to start right away?

The wisp of black cloud that Ruby had perceived intermittently from above, that had seemed to trail their barge as it sailed down the river, descended towards the north bank of the river, and as it headed towards the ground it resolved itself into the form to which Selene had been condemned for these many ages past: that of a winged unicorn as black as the night, tall and lithe limbed, with white bone forming a helmet upon her face and armouring her chest.

Selene glided down into the forest clearing, where Sombra and Corypheus were already waiting for them, along with Salem’s giggling little creature.

She landed, tucking her wings in along her flanks.

“Well met by moonlight, Nightmare Moon,” Corypheus said, the blue glow from the tip of his staff illuminating his face.

Selene’s snout twitched. She had been called Nightmare Moon once, it had been given to her by her fearful subjects when she, as High Priestess of the Moon, had begun to sacrifice them upon her altar in worship of the lunar orb and the glory of the night. And for that they, small minded fools that they were, had resented her and paid all worship to the garish sun. She had never liked the name. “Indeed, Storm King,” she said, ascribing to him in turn the epithet given to him by those who trembled in fear of his conquering armies and the ferocity with which he laid waste to all those who stood against him.

The Storm King simply chuckled. “You think to insult me? I like the name and always did. I am the storm, the lord of storms and tempests who will sweep all things before my wrath.”

“Not quite all things,” Sombra said. “You never had the courage to challenge me in my domain.”

“I would have,” the Storm King replied. “Had Salem given us the time to see, once and for all, who was the stronger king and lord of war.”

“If you had truly wished to see who was the stronger of you you would not have made common cause to follow Salem,” Selene declared. “Where is Tirek?”

“He will not come,” Sombra said. “You know how he disdains company, and desires to walk a lonely road.”

“Indeed,” Selene said. “Very well, I shall speak of my news to the two of you alone.”

“The two of them?” Tyrian demanded.

All three of them looked, or perhaps it more accurately might be said that they glared at him. “Indeed,” Selene said. “The two of them. Hie you from this place, O capering goblin, thou jester of Salem; get you gone, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate, and leave we princes of the world to speak as princes do.”

“I am the servant of the goddess-“

“And we are not slaves of Salem the Deceiver that we must bend our necks to the will of any mere servant in her service,” Sombra snarled. “We are the kings of storm and shadow, moon and blood. Go, servant, and when your service is required you shall be sent for once again.”

He went. He went unwillingly, his outrage plain upon his bruised and beaten face, but he went, slinking off into the darkness where he could not pry and spy upon their conference.

“So much for him,” the Storm King said. “Now we may speak at leisure. What’s the news?”

“They have left the river,” Selene said. “And entered the woods. I cannot follow them from the air, the trees are so thick that I cannot see the prey below.”

“We will find them again,” Sombra said. “They mean to cross the mountains, let us seek them there.”

“So sure of their intentions?” the Storm King said.

“Why else would they come this way,” Sombra said. “When all the wealth of this land is in the west.”

“Then why head east at all?” Selene asked.

“Perhaps to rejoin their comrades across the sea,” Sombra suggested. “The other two whom Salem would see dead.”

“Perhaps,” the Storm King allowed. “And perhaps when they are joined together we may see what disturbs the Deceiver so that she would let us loose. At present, I do not see the root of her concern.”

“One of them has the Eyes of Heaven,” Sombra growled. “They are weak, for now, but should they grow stronger then we must needs beware her wrath upon us. And the other has magic that I thought had gone out of the world.”

“Yet neither strong enough to vanquish you, nor any one of us,” the Storm King said.

“The same could not be said of Salem’s other servants,” Sombra said. “Hence why she has need of us.”

“But should we do her bidding?” Selene asked. “Or should we look to other purposes, more pleasing to our wills and natures. Think on it, cousins: four kingdoms now remain in this Remnant of the world, and here we are four kings in all once Tirek is counted in our company. Why should we, the last princes in a world which has none, not take these kingdoms for our own and let lying Salem curse our names for all that she has power over us.”

Sombra snorted. “You think you are the first to notice that there is a kingdom for each of us? You think you are the first to have this thought? My mind is fixed on sovereignty. I will go north, to the land that the men of this age call Atlas; for I have heard that it is a kingdom of great strength, where the hard lands of the north hath bred strong men; I shall take that hard land for myself, and take those hardy men also and with their strength shall ring my throne with iron as I did of old.”

“For myself I shall go east,” Selene said. “To the city called Mistral, where it is said all beauty flowers, and there I shall enjoy all the good things of this world: wine to drink, gold and fine fabrics to adorn myself, and sweet music shall be my constant accompaniment.”

“While I to the western desert shall betake myself,” said the Storm King. “And while you, Sombra, think that it is in the north that you shall find your iron men I know that it is amongst the desert rats that I will raise a new storm of furious intensity.”

“Which leaves this present Vale for Tirek,” Sombra said.

“He will not care where he goes, as long as he sits a throne,” Selene said. “If he can overcome the creatures to whom Salem has promised it already.”

“Whether he can or not is no concern of ours,” the Storm King said.

“Are Salem’s foes any concern of ours?” Selene asked, returning to the subject at hand.

“Yes,” Sombra said. “For if the girl with the eyes masters her strength then we shall all of us be in danger; as for the rest, I understand that one of them is heir to the throne of the kingdom you would take. And all of them are champions amongst our enemies.”

“Salem’s enemies,” Selene said.

“Which will oppose us also, in these monstrous forms to which we are condemned,” Sombra said. “Therefore, though it serve the will of Salem the Deceiver, let us strike them down and dishearten all our foes.”

“And then we’ll take these kingdoms for our own,” Selene said.

Author's Note

Selene was the name originally intended by Lauren Faust for the character that became Princess Luna. Corypheus is the name of a character from Dragon Age, a Tevinter mage who attempted to usurp heaven and became the first darkspawn.

The Pass of the Raven

The Pass of the Raven

I’m still not entirely sure that this is a good idea, but if you’re determined to do it

Which I am.

I was afraid you’d say that.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, even as a slightly amused smile began to play upon her face. Twilight, are you stalling?

Maybe a little.

Twilight, I know that this has risks but I need this, for the sake of my own peace of mind as much as for the sake of my friends.

I believe you. Or at least I believe that you’re sincere, otherwise I wouldn’t be helping you at all with this. But, because you’re sincere – and because I’m too nice for my own good – I took Starlight with me out to the Castle of the Two Sisters to have a look in the old library there for anything that might be useful.

Can’t you just teach me what you know?

I could, but I’m not sure how much the ability to make rocks grow out of the ground would help you, even if they are black and spiky rocks. However, after doing some research with Starlight’s help

That’s your student, right?

That’s right, Starlight Glimmer. She’s really coming along well, and she was a big help to me in this. Anyway, I think that I’ve found something that will be of use to you, without crossing any lines that I’m not going to help you cross no matter how much you beg.

Don’t write that like I’ve tried; there are lines I wouldn’t cross either. I want to protect my friends not take over the world.

My fear is that by trying to do one you’d end up wanting to do the other. That’s why my idea should only be used in small doses, for a limited time only. Each one will take a strain upon you, and if you use them continuously then that strain could prove too great to bear.

When you say that there will be a strain, you mean upon my mind?

And upon your soul. However, if you use this magic sparingly then you should be able to handle it. Just try not to use all three at once, or even sparing use might be too much.

Three what at once? What kind of spells are we talking about?

Do you know the legend of the Dark Regalia?

Of course: when Celestia and Luna ascended to the rule of the three tribes Princess Peridot, the last descendant of the unicorn royal line, gathered together a band of malcontents from all three tribes and used a mixture of natural and black magic to forge three powerful artefacts, each tied to the abilities and magics of one of the three pony tribes, to act as amplifiers to their powers.

Exactly; for unicorns, the Alicorn Amulet; for pegasi, the Tempest Crown; for earth ponies, the Obsidian Hoofguards. Of course, if the legends are correct then they are more than just amplifiers; it was said that if, for example, an earth pony where to put on the Alicorn Amulet then they would sprout a horn and gain the powers of unicorn. I didn’t really want to see if it worked when I had the amulet in my possession.

No, you just decided to leave it in the care of a zebra mystic living alone in the woods. Twilight had already described that particular adventure to Sunset, and her course seemed no wiser to Sunset now than it had then. In fact it seemed far less now, after the things that she had learned and experienced since that first telling.

There is no one I would trust more with it than Zecora.

Evidently not, since you did trust her with it, but her trustworthiness is not the issue. She paused, tapping the tip of her pen upon the page. Professor Ozpin is the first to admit the mistakes that he has made, but when he came into possession of four artefacts of terrible power he had the wisdom to lock them away in the bowels of the four great strongholds of the world. Why didn’t you entrust the amulet to Princess Celestia in Canterlot?

Because the enemies that trouble us are drawn to Canterlot like bees to honey, but no one would ever think to search the Everfree Forest for a power like the Alicorn Amulet.

Huh. That’s actually a very good point.

I have my moments.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. I suppose that being in Remnant so long has affected my thinking in all kinds of ways.

Like thinking of strength as the solution to your difficulties.

Oh, no, you are not going to get me to reconsider so easily. I understand that there is more to life and to success than power as you well know, and if Jaune and Pyrrha were here – not to mention Blake and our friends of RSPT – then perhaps I would not tremble so much in fear of this new opposition. Not least because if RSPT were here then we could just call in a strike package or whatever the military term is and have one of their ships drop a ton of bombs on one of these things.

You were saying how well you understand that there’s more to success than power?

But they’re not here, and if we want to get to them then I have to be able to stand up for us. Now what did you find in the Castle of the Two Sisters, and what does it have to do with the Dark Regalia? The Tempest Crown and the Obsidian Hoofguards are lost and even if they weren’t you couldn’t get them to me here in Remnant.

No, but in my research I found what might be the only record left in Equestria about how they were originally made, and with a little alteration I think that I can talk you through it.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. You’re going to talk me through making my own Dark Regalia?

Well, when you put it like that it sounds terrible.

I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised, all things considered.

A lot of dark spells are very specific, and dark magic has a very afterlife upon the caster. But Trixie wore the Alicorn Amulet for several days without taking it off, and yet when she did take it off she was fine; which means that if we go this root you should be able to wear whatever it is you decide to imbue the power with without, you know, going crazy and evil. However, although I tried I wasn’t able to find a way to make this spell work without the side-effects, so you will still feel them whenever you wear any one of the three and more if you put them all on at once.

Well, I’d be lying if I told you that this was what I had in mind, but this is not a bad plan. Although since I don’t have the energy of the thirty unicorns who, according to legend, laboured to craft the Dark Regalia in the fires of Ancalagon the Black, I take it that this is going to take some time.

By my estimates, at least two weeks for you to infuse your chosen objects with the necessary levels of magic.

At least it’s not as if I have anything better to do.

So, what are you going to use?

Sunset chose rings, in the end. She didn’t want anything too conspicuous, anything that screamed ‘the source of all my powers’ to anyone who might be watching closely, something that she could put on and take off again without arousing too much notice or suspicion, and rings were rather perfect for that. Lots of people wore rings. Ruby’s uncle had been wearing three of the things on one hand the last time they’d seen him for no immediately obvious reason at all and yet nobody had found this at all odd or worth remarking upon. Now, it was true that Sunset didn’t wear rings as a matter of course, but if she were to slip one or two onto her fingers before the battle then most people would probably hardly notice, and those that did notice would probably not care.

Of course, there was the slight issue that she didn’t actually have any rings with her at the moment, but that was more easily fixed than turning them into objects that would grant her a great boost to her power at the cost of her sanity: a simple trio of transfiguration spells was sufficient to transform a stick, an acorn and a crab apple that she found in the forest into three rings of gold, silver and iron that each fit snugly to her fingers. She didn’t mean to imply anything by the descending order of metals, she just needed some way of easily telling the tree apart so that she didn’t accidentally put on the ring for pegasus powers when what she really was the ability to flick someone’s head clean off their shoulders with one finger.

There were no more encounters with either of the two dread servants of Salem which they had already encountered, nor with any others like them but distinct from them, as the company made its way afoot towards the mountains which rose so high and so sharp, jagged like a saw slicing through the world, a constant dominating presence as the group made their way towards them. The shadows of the mountains grew ever longer, and the peaks themselves seemed to grow ever higher, with every step the group took in their direction. Sunset could see why, faced with those grim, forbidding peaks, faced with the challenges of scaling those vast mountains, both the Mistralians during the Great War and the Valish in their later efforts to expand again had scorned the notion of crossing the high passes and instead had chosen to focus their resources and attentions on the gap that lay to the south east, and the flat, green lands there that offered freedom to move and build. But that road, aside from being very long, would have taken them far too close to Mountain Glenn and the grimm multitudes that still infested it, and Sunset had no wish to tread those dead and empty roads again. She had a feeling that Ruby had no wish to do so either. So they would take the mountain path, though it had be a harder road to travel, and hope that the hard road would also, in the end, transpire to be the safer one.

The weather had cleared up, the storm that had dogged them up the river abating now and the skies – when they could be seen through the tall eaves of the ever crimson trees – clear and disturbed only by a few wispy clouds that seemed too small to bear the weight of any rain. But though no raindrops fell upon their heads often times the east wind would rise out of the mountains and blow icily in their faces, chilling them through their aura which, though it protected them from some of the worst effects of the cold, did not stop them from feeling it in the same way that it would let you feel a punch to the gut even if it stopped you getting your ribs broken or your organs messed up by the same.

The journey was long and dreary, and of the travel to the mountains there was little worth saying. They travelled by day and rested by night, since grimm could see in the dark as well as any faunus and better than any man there was little to be gained from appealing to the secrecy of the night. Sometimes they came upon a ragged path, a dirt track or the remnants of something a little more substantial upon which to walk; for a few days they journeyed down what appeared to be the remains of an ancient road, and though it well deserved to be called remains it was nevertheless a flatter and an easier than any days of travelling they had before or since. Other times there was neither road nor path, simply the trudging over uneven forested countryside, following Sami’s lead, as she guided them closer, ever closer, to the mountains.

“I would have thought,” Sunset said. “That if your people use this path a lot there would have been an actual path leading up to it.”

“My people don’t start from an almost random spot on the river bank,” Sami replied. “There’ll be more path the closer we get.”

That was true, and Sunset would not deny it; as the mountains loomed closer and closer, and as they rose higher and higher into the sky at the same time, so too did the times when they were forced to traipse across the countryside stumbling over tree roots and falling into molehills as they went. They found more paths, even if they were little more than places where a few trees had been felled and the land flattened a bit. Sometimes they were a little more than that, but even when it was not so it was better than nothing. And it became increasingly clear that somebody was using these paths that Sami had brought them to: although they were not recent Sunset could nevertheless see the marks left by wagons, carts or maybe sleds dragged along the ground; presumably these belonged to Sami’s migratory people.

Two weeks of travel, walking by day and travelling by night, brought them closer and closer to the mountains, and more to the point brought them to a particular mountain, rising higher than those in its closest vicinity, with two peaks slightly spread apart which looked, in the right light, like the beak of a bird slightly opened to a devour a worm; and it was for that reason that it was called the Ravensmount; that, and when the last rays of the setting sun struck the mountain they seemed to turn the stone red.

Two weeks, and a few days longer, brought them to the foothills of that mountain, within which lay the Pass of the Raven over which Sami would lead them, and every night of those two weeks when the company stopped to rest Sunset would work with Twilight to create her rings of power. She infused them with her magic, using spells to draw upon not only her unicorn powers but her new earth pony and pegasus magic as well, and in addition she infused all three with the darkness necessary to make them more than just a store for her power, but a means to actually make her stronger than she was before.

It was a strange experience, and to be honest Sunset would also have to say that it was an unsettling one, drawing upon her anger and her fear and weaponising it in the form of magic. She had to focus upon the worst moments of her life, or at the moments in her life when she had been at her worst and which now filled her with anger and fear just as much as moments when she had had reason to be scared or angry. She thought about the tunnel under Mountain Glenn when she had let her fears overwhelm her reason, been ruled by selfish fearfulness to the detriment of the whole world and of her own position; she thought about facing Adam in the sewers; she thought about Celestia and the way in which Celestia had parted company from her; she thought about her first journey into Cinder’s soul and the way in which the after-effects of unlocking her semblance had lingered in Sunset’s own spirit; she thought about all those times and more of them and she ripped the fear and anger that she felt, the fear and anger that she directed at herself and at her memories, and she turned it into pure magic energy.

It was wayward, it was hard to control. It wanted to break free, it wanted to destroy, and just trying to keep a handle on it meant that Sunset felt the urge to destroy too. The anger and the fear that she was forced to draw upon bubbled close to the surface, and as she drew on the power of those memories she felt again as she had felt at those dark times: the fury at and hatred of Celestia, the terror that had led her to condemn the world, the fear of Adam and the desire to see him dead to assuage that fear, the echoes of Cinder’s anger that had reverberated inside of her, they had all returned, and they lingered there even after Sunset had wrestled with the powers and forced them into one of the three rings and cast the spells to bond them with the natural magic that she had placed within.

Each night made them a little stronger, and each night brought them closer to completion; but each night also left her weary, drained of magic and with a morass of negative emotions bubbling away beneath her skin, dragged to the surface and refusing to sink down into the depths again.

Sunset counted herself fortunate that she wasn’t the only one practicing magic down here. When she was done, when she felt herself weary and angry and afraid and, to be perfectly honest, worried that if she did this too often she would lose the ability to shove her negative back down again, then she would glimpse through the trees a little burst of silver light, only lasting for a second or two, never sustained but it was enough. She would see the light from Ruby’s eyes as she, too, sought to become stronger in the powers that had been gifted to her, and the light from her eyes – the light from her soul – would bring a smile to Sunset’s face and everything became a little lighter.

That was one of Ruby’s gifts, greater even than her skill at arms: even after all the losses she had suffered, she could still light up the darkness.

That was one of the things that Sunset was counting on.

And so, on that last night when they made camp at the foothills of the mountains, Sunset wandered across the eaves of the wood; the campfire flickered to her left, and Lyra’s harp sounded a soft refrain that was almost mournful. Sunset stopped, reminded of that day, the first day in the Forever Fall that was so very long ago and seemed to have been even longer. Lyra had played the harp then, too, but then her song had been soft and gentle and had joined with the atmosphere of the forest to bring Sunset a feeling of peace. Now her song was sad, and Sunset…well, the times had gotten sadder since then.

After all, we were together then.

And not just our team, either; Ruby had Yang then.

Perhaps a sad song is fit for the way the world has turned from that day to this; from the first day to the last.

She kept walking, and came to the edge of the wood where Ruby and her father were sat upon fallen logs across from one another. They both looked up at Sunset’s approach, for she was not stealthy and was making no effort to be so.

“Can I have a word, Ruby,” Sunset said, her voice soft in the still and quiet – apart from the sound of Lyra’s harp, which might have driven all other sounds away – night.

She did not need to say that she wanted a word with Ruby alone, Taiyang was wise enough to take the hint and kind enough not to object to it. He simply got to his feet, wiping his hands off one another. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “I should turn in anyway. Goodnight, Ruby.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” Ruby said, a smile rising across her lips and then falling as soon as he turned away. She looked at Sunset, her eyes gleaming expectantly.

Sunset sat down on the same log as Ruby, to her right. She rested her elbows on her knees. “How’s it going?”

“The training?”

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “How are the magic lessons coming along?”

“Turns out I’m not that great at this,” Ruby said, clearly unhappy about the fact. “I can’t keep it up for more than a second or two, not on purpose.”

“Any idea what the problem is?” Sunset asked.

“I don’t know,” Ruby moaned. “Dad’s trying his best, but it’s not like he was ever in Mom’s head when she was using her silver eyes. And it’s hard…getting my head in the right place, you know?”

“Negative emotions?”

“That’s just the thing,” Ruby said. “Dad says that that isn’t how Mom did it. He says that Mom used to focus on love, and what she was protecting.”

That made a degree of sense to Sunset; if dark magic was driven by fear and hatred then it made sense that light magic – and this was literally light magic that they were talking about here – was fuelled by the opposite. The only thing that didn’t make sense was the discrepancy itself. “Why would your mother lie in her own diary?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Could…could it have been altered, somehow?”

Sunset considered that for a moment. “Do you have it with you?”

Ruby nodded, producing the little black book out of one of her pouches. “Here. Do you want to see it?”

“Can you open it up to the passage where it talks about silver eyes and negative emotion,” Sunset said.

“Sure,” Ruby said, and she flicked quickly through the pages until she found the one that she was looking for. “Here you go.”

Sunset took the journal from out of Ruby’s unprotesting hand. The slanted handwriting of Summer Rose lay before her.

Anyway, the powers of the silver eyes come from, wouldn't you know it, our silver eyes. When we feel especially intense negative emotion - horror, fear, sorrow, anger - our eyes manifest in power unlike any other. Professor Ozpin called it magic, even though he told me not to call it that in front of anybody else.

Well, that seems pretty definitive. But…

Sunset placed the tips of her fingers upon the page, feeling the indentations were Summer had pressed hard upon the paper as she wrote; and then she stopped feeling with her finger tips and started feeling with her more magical senses instead.

And Ruby had got it in one: there was some magic imbued in this paper. Someone had cast a spell – a subtle spell, one that Sunset would never had noticed if Ruby hadn’t inspired her to actively look for it - to alter the words.

But words remember, Sunset thought, as she cast a counterspell. A little magic – and a little magic was just about all that she could spare at this precise moment – flowed out of her and onto the page and as it flowed so too the words of Summer Rose flowed and shifted and changed before their very eyes.

Anyway, the powers of the silver eyes come from, wouldn’t you know it, our silver eyes. When we feel especially intense love, of any kind, and the desire to protect that which we love from the dark powers all around us, our eyes manifest in a power unlike any other.

“Looks like your dad was right after all,” Sunset said, as she handed the book back to Ruby.

Ruby’s eyes widened. “But…why…who change it in the first place? And why?”

“I…I really couldn’t say,” Sunset said. “Magic doesn’t leave a signature.” She was being ever so slightly disingenuous with Ruby; she had a sneaking suspicion that it must have been Professor Ozpin, if only because he had the means and the opportunity to do so, but she didn’t want to slander him without actual proof, and the fact that she couldn’t think of why he would want to do such a thing – the obvious motive was to make it harder for Ruby to learn how to use her silver eyes, or if one assumed that the spell had been cast some long time ago then to stop anybody from learning how to use them; but why would Ozpin want to do such a thing when Ruby’s eyes had been part of what had drawn him to Ruby in the first place? - acted as another restraint upon her tongue.

But if not him, then who? Who else could have done it?

Why would he want to do it?

Why would anybody want to?

“I wouldn’t worry about the answer to that question too much,” Sunset continued. “It’s not something that you can answer, so don’t wear yourself out with fretting about it.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, slightly reluctantly. “It still doesn’t help me use my powers, though.”

“Because you can’t get your head in the right place,” Sunset said. “Care to explain?”

Ruby looked reluctant to do so, but nevertheless she said, “I can’t…I can’t hold it.”

“Hold?”

“The right thoughts,” Ruby said. “Every time we try I fix on something that I think ought to fill me with…with love, you know: Yang, when the four of us where together. I think about that and it feels like it’s starting to work…and then something comes along and ruins it. Just like life: Yang died, Jaune and Pyrrha left, you…you…”

“Betrayed you,” Sunset whispered. “You can say it, Ruby, you don’t have to worry about offending me.”

“Everything fades,” Ruby said. “Nothing lasts. And I can’t keep it in my mind as though it does.”

“That’s…I wish I knew what I could say right now to help but…I’m afraid that I’ve got nothing,” Sunset said. “Because you’re right: the days you think are perfect never last forever and it really, really sucks. And I don’t know what the answer is, I wish that I did, but…the truth is that I actually came over here to ask you for help, not the other way around.”

“Help?” Ruby asked. “Help with what?”

Sunset didn’t reply. She looked up at the moon hanging above them, and the craggy peaks of the Ravensmount looming overhead. “What do you think of our road?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Do you trust Sami?”

“Not really,” Sunset said. “But she’s our best shot right now. It’s not her but the weather that worries me.”

“Why?”

“It’s very early in the year,” Sunset said. “You heard Sami, her people don’t usually cross the mountains until later. We’ve only just seen the end of the snows down here, they could linger on the heights. But we don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s not like we can camp out and wait for summer. We’ll just have to take the risk, and trust to our strength.”

“Sunset?”

“Yeah?”

“The fact that you don’t want to tell me what you need my help with is kinda worrying,” Ruby said plaintively.

Sunset grinned, probably not long enough to be genuinely reassuring. “I, um, I’ve been working with Twilight, while you’ve been practicing your silver eyes, on a way that I can strengthen my own magic. A way that I can become strong enough so that you don’t have to worry about whether you can use your silver eyes or not.”

“That sounds great,” Ruby said. “Except that it doesn’t.”

“No,” Sunset said. “What we’ve come up with…is not without consequences. So if I start to go a little crazy-“

“A little crazy?”

“It’s not ideal, I know-“

“You wouldn’t let me practice my silver eyes because it would make me a little tired!” Ruby snapped. “And now I’m supposed to let you go crazy.”

“No, you’re not,” Sunset said. “That’s what I’m trying to get to…this might sound like a lot to ask but, if I do overdo it then I need you to use my semblance on you.”

Ruby blinked. “You want me to use your semblance on me?”

“Yes, like you did the night after the dance,” Sunset said. “Remember? I was so full of rage leftover from what I’d seen in Cinder’s soul, but when I touched your hand and saw what was in your soul instead…it purified me. It drove out all the bad stuff or at least it made it so that it wasn’t…I could function again, is what I’m trying to say. And I might need you to do that again, to pull me back the way you did before.”

Ruby stared up at Sunset, the two of them looking at one another in silence. “What if I can’t?” Ruby asked. “What if I’m not the same person any more? What if I’m not-“

“Not what?” Sunset asked. “Not good? Not kind? Not brave? You’ve suffered, Ruby, I don’t deny that; you’ve suffered more than any of us, but in spite of that here you are, still doing your part and I think…I believe that that shows that in spite of everything your heart remains the same. Like I believe in you.”

Ruby looked away. All of a sudden her body slumped sideways, leaning against Sunset. “I don’t know if I believe in me that way,” she said. “So do you think I could believe in the you that believes in me instead?”

Sunset chuckled as she put an arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “Yeah. I don’t see why not.”

“So…” Ruby began. “I’d like to help, but…can’t you just not do whatever it is you’re going to do that’s going to make you lose it.”

“Not if I want to win against those things,” Sunset said. “You saw the way that first one overpowered my magic, straight up. I can’t just ignore the fact that they’re so much stronger than I am.”

“And there’s no better way?”

“Not that we have time for, no,” Sunset said.

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to lose you, Sunset. You and Dad are all I have left. And Zwei.”

“Mustn’t forget Zwei.”

“I’m serious,” Ruby said. “I don’t want to lose you, Sunset.”

“You won’t.”

“You might, if-“

“You won’t,” Sunset repeated. She squeezed Ruby reassuringly. “You’re the best person I know. If anyone can pull this off it’s you. And that goes for silver eyes too, you’ll get there, I’m sure of it.”

Ruby was silent again. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

Sunset let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t even realised she was holding in. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Ruby, that means a lot. I…I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t think I could do any of this without you.”

Sunset stood at the foot of the mountain, all alone.

The wind howled around her, the cold biting her through her aura as it blew through her hair, scattering it in every direction. The knifelike and forbidding peak, with its narrow cleft to offer passage, loomed large and dark over her head, casting a shadow as it blocked out the light of the moon which hung in shattered fragments behind it.

“Ruby?” Sunset called, turning this way and that looking for any sign of her companions, any sign of their camp, any sign of where they had gone or how, for that matter, Sunset had ended up here. “Cinder? Cardin?”

“They’re not here,” said a voice, a voice which came from what was now behind Sunset, for just as she had turned to put her back to the mountain so the speaker was closer to the peak than she was. “But don’t be alarmed,” she added, as Sunset rounded on her. She was swathed in a green cloak, with the hood up so that her face could not be seen. “This is just a dream, and when you wake up you’ll find them right where you left them.”

That cloak…and that voice… “Amber?” Sunset murmured.

Amber threw back her cloak, revealing her face scarred by Cinder’s attack. “Hello, Sunset Shimmer. It’s good to see you again.”

Sunset wished that she could say that she felt the same way. As it was she drew back just a little. “No offence, Amber, but…which one are you?”

Amber smiled. “Both. I’m whole again, at last, and I don’t…I don’t have to be afraid any more.”

Sunset frowned. “I’m sorry, for...I’m sorry about what I did to you.”

“My fate is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Sunset said. “I brought you back.”

“And if you haven’t I would have died anyway,” Amber said. “What climbed out of Uncle Ozpin’s machine wouldn’t have been me, any more than it would have been Pyrrha.”

“You would have been remembered more fondly,” Sunset said. “As a victim, not a traitor.”

Amber was silent in response to that. She looked away from Sunset for a moment. “I really did care about them, you know: Uncle Ozpin, my friends of Bluebell…Dove.”

“Are you with him now?” Sunset asked. “Is there a place where you can be together?”

Amber nodded, a soft smile returning to her face. “It’s wonderful. It’s…it’s everything I ever dreamed of. We have a cottage, and a stream running by and some woods not far away. We’ll never grow old…we’ll never have a family,” she added, with some sadness making its way into her voice. “But we have each other, and Sky visits too sometimes.”

Sunset flinched to hear that. “I’m sorry that he’s able to.”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I didn’t come here to make you feel guilty.”

“Why did you come?” Sunset asked. “How did you come here, for that matter?”

“I’m here because you were a Fall Maiden,” Amber said. “If only for a little while. You held the mantle that has been passed down from maiden to maiden ever since the first of us. That…that creates a bond between us, between our souls. We’re all connected, down through the ages. And so I can come here, and help you.”

“Help me?” Sunset repeated. “How?”

“I’m going to show you the way,” Amber said. “Follow me. Are you ready?”

“Can’t you just tell me where to go?” Sunset asked.

Amber giggled. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“No, I’m not surprised,” Sunset muttered. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Alright then,” Amber said, as she turned away. “Follow me!” she cried, sounding suddenly giddy as she leapt upwards, a single kick upwards off the ground carrying her up into the air.

Sunset leapt too, and as she leapt after Amber she found that she was flying, soaring through the air without even needing to call upon her pegasus powers – if she ever could have done so – in this place she had no need of them, nor any other magic; a simple jump carried her all the way to the top of the mountain, where the air was frigid, so much colder than it had been down at the base of the mountain. The wind roared so much more violently here, blowing Sunset’s hair into her face. She brushed it out of the way, and kept her eyes fixed on Amber’s back as the previous Fall Maiden stood in what looked like the highest part of the Pass of the Raven, the moonlight falling silver down upon her. She stood there a moment, looking up at the shattered moon.

“Amber?” Sunset said. “Is something wrong?”

Amber, it seemed, was allowed to look back because she did just that. “No, nothing,” she said quickly. “I just…oh, come and look.”

Sunset scrambled the last few steps up the mountain pass after her, as she began to descend the other side of the mountain. Sunset was forced to stop herself as she reached the highest point, because all of eastern Sanus lay spread out before her and if Amber had stopped because she was struck dumb by the view then, as her eyes beheld even in a dream the vast expanse of the world beyond Sunset had to admit that it was a view worth being temporarily halted for. The rivers glimmered under the moonlight, the forests rose tall and ancient, the ground rolled upwards and downwards, undulating gently towards the sea while, if she looked closely, Sunset could see the smoke rising from the chimneys of half a hundred scattered townships and villages that lay between the mountains and the coast.

So people have survived here. Ruby will be pleased.

“Sunset,” Amber called, and Sunset followed where she led. It had only a single bound to clear the mountain, and it took only a few steps to descend as Amber and Sunset walked like giants, their every step traversing great distances as they came down the mountain and entered the valley called the Goat’s Cleft on the other side as easily as if they were descending the most meagre of gentle rises along the way.

They were giants, Sunset realised. Although when she had Amber had first talked the mountain had loomed over them to make them seem as small as ants now when she looked back Sunset could see that she and Amber were both as tall as the mountains now, or maybe a little taller, for she could just see over the top of the peaks. Although, now that she had noticed that, she also noticed herself shrinking noticeably; she was not her natural height, far from it, but the mountain grew larger behind her as she left it behind and passed through the valley.

The valley where the wind died down and the air warmed noticeably around her, and though it never became warm it was at least a relief from the bitter cold that had prevailed upon the mountain slope.

The valley where a host of growls and snarls arose all around them, the valley where the shadows loomed dark and dangerous, the valley where – when Sunset looked away from Amber for a moment – she saw the monsters lurking the darkness; not grimm, but other creatures: hydras and manticores such as one might see in Equestria; chtonic boars and bulls and lions; giant suits of armour with pale glows of magic animating them; pale, wraithlike figures and bleached skeletons with swords and shields; creatures she could see moving beneath the ground but which did not show their forms; and a man with the legs of a goat and a pair of proud, curving horns – also goat-like, or at least like pictures of some mountain goats that Sunset had seen in books - growing out of his head who sat upon a throne of bones and laughed as he gorged himself upon a feast.

“What is this?” Sunset murmured as she watched the creatures roar and snarl and growl and dance about their enthroned lord as if their monstrous revelry might please him. “What am I looking at?”

Amber stopped, and despite everything she shivered. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’m afraid…be careful.”

“Of course,” Sunset murmured, looking for ways to avoid going through the centre of the valley if it was home to this menagerie. Perhaps they could get onto one of the outer spurs and climb along it that way?

“We have to go,” Amber said. “We don’t have much time.”

Sunset followed, partly reluctant to go before she understood what she was seeing and partly glad to leave this sight behind. Amber led the way and Sunset followed, and their steps were so broad that they covered leagues with every single stride. Forest and field and farm passed beneath their feet, vast rivers presented no obstacle to either of them, and as they walked Sunset memorised the route that she had been shown: how they passed over – or through – this forest here, and crossed the river at such a place where there was an island in the centre of the channel; how they gave a wide berth to that settlement with the stockade, but rather passed through those ancient ruins that crowned the high but lonely hill; how they followed that road so far. Their steps devoured the land, covering the whole of this part of Sanus in mere moments, and as they walked the temperature changed by the moment, becoming cold in this place and warm in that; for a second Sunset would feel a breeze kissing her cheek, the next she felt the pitter-patter of rain upon her head and then that was gone just as swiftly as the breeze had been and if anything she felt uncomfortably hot.

There were people moving around at their feet as they walked: people in the towns and villages that they strode over, wagon caravans upon the makeshift roads, woodsman treading the forest paths alone; and the grimm, always the grimm, roaming everywhere in wild bands, making the night shake with their howling. But though they saw plenty of grimm they saw no more monsters like those than Sunset had seen in the Goat’s Cleft, just as there had been no creatures of grimm to be seen there.

Amber brought her to the coast, to a natural bottleneck formed by a lagoon on one side and range of steep and rocky hills upon the other. Within the bottleneck stood a bustling port that seemed like it belonged more in Vale than in the eastern wilds: a town with walls of iron, albeit thin, and a road dug into the soil leading to its gates, and what looked like some kind of ballista turrets placed outside on guard. Smoke belched out of a crude factory, and a small fleet of modest boats anchored in the bay.

“What is this place?”

“Here is where you’ll find a ship to take you across the sea,” Amber said. “But right now, we can jump it.”

Sunset didn’t argue. She knew better than that by now, but simply leapt as Amber leapt and let the momentum of this dream-realm take her in its embrace and send her flying through the air across the ocean, the great waves and all the creatures dwelling in the deep passing away beneath her before she and her companion set their feet once more upon the dry land of Anima.

Sunset could see Mistral far off, the shining city on the mountain gleaming in the darkness.

“No,” Amber said quickly. “Not there, not yet. There’s somewhere else you have to go first.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “You know where Ozpin is, don’t you?”

Amber nodded. “I know where you’ll find him.”

Sunset folded her arms. “You could have started with that.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“When you said you were going to show me the way I thought you were being a bit more…general.”

Amber laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “I meant to be specific.”

“How?” Sunset asked. “Are you connected to him, too?”

“When I was…alive,” Amber murmured. “I…sometimes I saw things. I had dreams of my own. They weren’t always clear, but…I know that I’m right this time. You have to go where I show you to find Uncle Ozpin, and you have to find him.”

“Are you being specific again?” Sunset asked, a trifle anxiously; she already knew that she had to find Professor Ozpin – that was the task that Professor Goodwitch had laid upon her – but was there some extra-special reason she had to do it, such as he was going to die again if she didn’t?

“Follow me,” Amber said, and Sunset was left no choice but to do as she bade, and continue trying to commit the landscape of Anima to memory as they passed over the forests and the mountains, treading over the ruins of villages destroyed by bandits or by grimm, until they arrived at a rustic, undefended village which by the looks of it had an airship but not any way to keep dangers at bay.

Amber stood in the middle of the village, her head bowed. “This…this is the place. I think…I think it’s name is Shion.” She looked at Sunset. “You have to get here and you have to find him. He’s in danger, or he will be by the time you arrive. You have to protect him.”

“I will, but can be a little more specific?” Sunset asked. “Is Salem going to find him too?”

“I don’t think so,” Amber said. “It’s hard to explain, I just…everyone is going to betray him. When the truth comes out even those whom he called friend will turn on him…just like I did.”

“What?” Sunset said. “That’s not possible. Pyrrha, Ruby, they’d never turn on Professor Ozpin, no matter what truth…what could we possibly learn that he hasn’t told us already?”

“I don’t know,” Amber said. “I don’t know everything, I only know what I see and what I see is…you have to protect him. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did. Don’t break Ozpin’s heart like I did. Promise me, Sunset, promise me that when the swords are drawn yours will be in his defence.”

“I can’t imagine anyone drawing a sword against-“

“Promise me, Sunset,” Amber insisted. “Please.”

Sunset nodded, her back straightening. “I am at his service,” she declared. “And so I shall remain until my lord release me, or death take me. I will keep him safe from any and all dangers, you have my word.”

“Upon the honour of a Fall Maiden?”

“Or a huntress,” Sunset said. “Or a scholar or an Equestrian gentlemare or anything else you like. My word, whatever I am and however much honour I have left.”

Amber stared into Sunset’s eyes for a moment. “There are times when I look at you and I almost feel as though…” she trailed off. “Thank you, Sunset Shimmer. I’m sorry that we didn’t get the chance to become friends. I think…I think I would have been very lucky if I had.”

“Thank you, for this,” Sunset said. “I promise, your faith in me won’t be in vain. This time, I swear, I won’t let Professor Ozpin down.”

Sunset had been born in the shadow of the high mountains, but it was not in Equestria that she had learnt what little she knew of travelling in high, cold places; that she had learnt at the other Canterlot, or at least that was what Vice Principal Luna had tried to teach her there. She hoped that she could still remember the lessons.

"Everyone gather as much wood as you can carry," Sunset said, as they prepared to set off. "Hopefully we won't need it, but-"

"But sometimes life gives you a simple choice," Sami said. "Fire or death."

Sunset said, "Like I said, let's hope it doesn't come to that."

They gathered wood, and piled it atop the packs that they already bore loaded with their food and all other essentials. Cardin looked as much a beast of burden as a man as his back bent ever so slightly under the weight of the enormous pile of wood that he had gathered. Taiyang was almost as encumbered. Only Neo, whose aura was not activated - a situation Sunset had no plans to alter - bore nothing at all, but simply watched Torchwick with a kind of childish amusement as he struggled to master all the burdens that had been laid upon him.

Thus prepared they began to move, surmounting the grey foothills of the great mountain chain as they advanced upon the mountain itself that loomed above. The air was cold, but briskly, not debilitatingly so. No one struggled as they emerged from the woods and felt the sun full upon their faces, in light if not in heat, before they passed after all too brief a sunlit spell into the shadow of the mountain.

Soon, after not much more than an hour's walk, they came to the base of the Ravensmount itself and there, at the beginning of their ascent, they found an ancient altar, a grey block of stone marked with crimson stains and carved all about with ancient runes. A goat's skull had been set upon the altar, staring at them out of its eyesockets, and amidst the carvings Sunset thought that she could see the horned being that she had seen in her dream.

She knelt before the altar, staring at this creature with the legs and the horns of a goat. "What is this?" she murmured.

"An altar," Sami said. "There's another one on the other side, for those who enter by the Goat's Cleft."

"An altar?" Emerald repeated, her voice wary. "An altar to what?"

Sami shrugged. "The old gods?" she said. "I don't know. I didn't believe it, I just knew that every journey we would sacrifice someone to appear the powers of the mountain and the valley, and assure a safe passage."

"Sacrifice like kill people?" Emerald said.

"Yep," Sami said. "Of course, I never believed in all of that, but you're the one who told me that magic is real, so maybe there's something to it after all." She leered at Emerald. "Maybe we should draw lots."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sunset said. "We're not going to do that. I can barely believe your people did something so barbaric."

Sam's face fell. "When I saw my father lead my sister to the altar I didn't want to believe it either. And as far as I was concerned barbaric was the kindest word for it."

Sunset frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Not half as sorry as she was," Sami said. She snorted. "Not half as sorry as my father was when I slit his throat for what he’d done either, I bet."

Sunset shivered, and not from the cold. The more she learned about Sami the easier it became for her to understand how she had turned out the way she had. Human sacrifice? That was the kind of savagery that ponies had left behind in the very earliest days of prehistory: the times when the Father of Monsters had required a tribute in blood had passed with the tyrant himself, and all philosophers and historians condemned the practice. And amongst men and faunus Sunset could not recall a single instance of the practice in any part of the world save in the worst periods of rule by the bloody-handed Maidens, who had sought to be worshipped as gods and delighted in blood sacrifice. Hardly respectable company for Sami's old gods.

And yet she had seen that creature on the altar in her dream, and if it was no more than a representation of the altar then what of the monsters who had rebelled around him?

She would get no answers here, and the questions did not change her plans: to climb the mountain, but avoid passing through the valley on the other side if at all possible.

And so they began the climb.

For a while everything was fine. They made good progress up the mountainside, following a path up the rock which was wide enough and easy-seeming enough that Sunset could believe it was used by a large group of people including the very young and the very old, a whole tribe with wagons and sleds and babes in arms and all their worldly goods. To be sure, there were one or two steep inclines where Sunset could imagine that Sami's sacrificing tribe would have to manhandle their carts up or gently down to prevent them being left behind, but even those places presented little obstacle to the company, unencumbered by such things as they were. Only Neo struggled at times, and when she did it seemed child's play for Torchwick to assist her. Though there were times when they walked with a sheer incline to their right - as opposed to being hemmed in by rocks on either side as was otherwise the case - the path was so broad that there was little feeling of danger. The rock was dry, and their feet were able to get good purchase on it; what few patches of snow lay further up were exceedingly shallow, and crunched beneath their boots.

As they climbed higher, however, so too the clouds began to get her overhead, heralded by a dark wisp of cloud that was the first to appear and seemed to hover about the jagged peak as other clouds gathered around it.

Cardin made his way up towards her. "Do you think we ought to stop?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the clouds.

"If we stop we'll be exposed," Sunset said, for they now stood on an exposed ledge with nothing but a sheer drop onto a scree slope to the right of them. "We either push on, or turn back for shelter."

"What shelter?" Sami asked. "Those rock faces won't protect us from snow falling straight down. We should keep going, and hope the snow doesn't start until after we've crested the peak. At this pace it won't take us more than another hour."

Sunset looked at Cardin. They both nodded; Sami might be many things but she was the only one who had climbed this mountain before, and neither of them felt confident ignoring her advice.

"We press on, then," Sunset said. "Everyone, keep going."

They pressed on, climbing higher and higher, but as they climbed and as they came to a narrower part of the path - a part where Sunset thought it must have been a sore struggle to get the goods and the infirm of the tribe up or down, a part where it became precarious for more than two to dare to walk abreast - it began to snow.

It fell quickly, descending from the clouds that had gathered in such mass above their heads in a furious flurry, flakes falling in clouds that swirled on the rising winds that blew into the faces of the company and bit like icy knives, pinching them through their aura.

At first Sunset hope it would not stick, but it stuck and soon began to gather on the rock. Then she hope that it would not last long, that the rapid falling of the snow would cause the clouds to wring themselves dry and clear the skies once more, but it did not abate. First the snow rose up over the tips of their boots, and then the snow was over their ankles and their pace was slowed to a crawl as they struggled through the rising snowdrift, feet rising and falling as they were plunged again and again into the rising banks of soft, wet, shiver-inducing snow.

"Zwei?" Ruby called, her head turning to look frantically in front and behind, searching the rising snow. "Zwei? Has anyone seen Zwei?"

"We're stuck in a blizzard and you're worried about a dog?" Emerald snapped.

"He's not just a dog, he's family," Ruby yelled, her words almost lost as the wind snatched them away. "Zwei, where are you?"

Something moved under the snow, perceptible only by the movement that it caused in the snow bank above it. Zwei popped his head our, whimpering as he tried to shake the snow put of his coat.

"I know, boy, I know," Ruby said, as she reached out with her pale fingers and swept him up in her arms. She hugged him tight. "We're going to get through this, just a little further."

Unfortunately, even a little further seemed like a great distance away, the snow showed no sign of abating, in fact if anything it seemed to be constantly falling faster and faster, rising higher and higher at an ever-increasing rate. It was falling so heavily that Sunset could barely see ahead of her, let alone the peak, and she was conscious that with the path narrowing it was not safe to blunder forward, hoping for the best.

The same applied to turning back, where all the same difficulties applied to moving forward.

"Hey, kid!" Torchwick yelled. "Neo needs her aura on before she freezes to death!" Neo was on his back, her arms dangling limply over his shoulders, her lips blue.

"Okay," Cardin said, and Sunset could just make out the light on Neo's collar going out before Torchwick was holding her in front of him, whispering something to her as he massaged life back into her limbs.

Sunset summoned her pegasus powers, her phantasmal wings of burning gold rising behind her as she reached out for the magic of wind and rain, storm and lightning, cloud and sky. She felt the winds rising around her in counterpoint to the biting gales assaulting her and her companions as she stretched forth her powers into the teeth of the storm and commanded it to cease.

She bade the winds be still. She ordered the clouds to disperse. She willed the skies be clear and the snow to cease. She issued forth her power to halt the storm and scatter it to the corners of Remnant.

Wind and snow and clouds all alike refused to bend the knee before her mastery of the weather. The snow yet fell no matter how Sunset strained at them; the winds yet blew and cracked their cheeks. Sunset stretched forth her power against the storm and the storm pushed back with a yet greater power against her.

"Whatever you're doing," Jack said. "It isn't working."

It was then that Sunset heard the voices: fell voices in the air, carried on the wind and blown all around them. Two voices, both gnarled and twisted like ancient trees knotted with age, one laughing at Sunset's feeble efforts to dispel the storm, the other snarling in anger at her impertinence for even attempting it. The voices filled Sunset's ears, and as she strained in vain against the blizzard the snowstorm seemed to grow even stronger, the snow falling faster and the wind howling louder.

The clouds darkened, casting the world into a night-like shade, and a bolt of lightning descended out of the dark clouds.

Sunset threw up one hand, conjuring a shield against which the lightning bolt slammed and dispersed harmlessly. Sunset maintained the shield in place, a green dome covering the whole of the company, as a second bolt of lightning struck the mountainside above them and sent a small avalanche of snow and stone down upon them that would have buried them all if Sunset's shield had not been there to take the blow without flinching. Rock and ice alike thumped and thunder upon the shield before slouching off of it and falling down into the abyss beside their mountain path.

"What in God's name is going on here?" Jack shouted, had to shout to be heard over the howling wind.

"Was it true?" Sami demanded. "Was it true all along? Are the old gods punishing us?"

"No," Sunset said. "This is our enemy's work."

"That's bad enough, isn't it?" Emerald asked.

Sunset didn't answer. Her eyes swept up and down her companions. Aura would protect you from the most lethal consequences of the cold, but it wouldn't numb you to it any more than it numbed you to pain, and too much cold would drain your aura the same as too many blows, though it might take a little longer to get there.

But if aura was a reflection of the soul then it probably didn't fare so well in any case in such dispiriting circumstances, and all of her companions looked dispirited by the weather's turn and by the fact that it was more than mere ill-weather. Even Ruby looked as though her spirit was sagging. And she looked pale, too, even paler than usual; water must be seeping through her ripped up stockings and turning her legs to ice.

Sunset knew that they couldn't stay here. She couldn't stay here, letting their opponents pound upon her shield until it broke. The snow was falling off the shield for now but in the end it would simply gather around the shield until it broke at which point the snowfall would descend upon them. Sunset couldn't just wait for that to happen.

Not when there was something else that she could do.

"Stay here," Sunset said stupidly, as if there was anywhere else that they could go. "I mean...you're going to have to bear this for just a little longer. Keep close to the rock face, I won't be long."

"Where are you going?" Cinder asked. "What are you going to do?"

Sunset cast the glimmer wings spell upon herself, conjuring a pair of shimmering gossamer butterfly wings, gorgeous and gaudy in equal measure, appeared upon her back to carry her out of the snow. She fished the silver ring out of her pocket, the ring that would by arts black and perilous amplify the pegasus parts of her magic. "You probably don't want to know," Sunset said, as she slipped the ring onto her finger.

She felt the power - power in potential, at least - explode within her, along with an ungodly amount of anger. She had been angry already, but her temper had been muffled by the cold; now it burned like an inferno. They dared do this to her? They dared to threaten her friends? They dared to laugh through the tempest into her face?

They dared to meddle with her?

Then she would have to show them the folly of their arrogance.

"Hold on," she growled at her companions. "I won't be long."

She dropped the shield - an unfortunate necessity - as her shimmering wings, now tipped with a red that had not been there before she put on the ring, carried her beyond its reach and over the edge of the cliff into the storm.

More lightning hammered down in brilliant bolts, lighting up the darkness as the wind howled around it, and Sunset felt a fear amplified by a furious sense of possession: these were her friends, her companions, her party belonging to her and they were not for other creatures to play with! A part of her was alarmed to catch herself thinking that way, a mode of thought that she thought she'd left behind in first semester, but that same part had more important things to worry about than stray hubris right now: like getting that storm away from her friends.

She put forth her powers, stronger now, oh, so much stronger now, straining against storm and tempest and all the fury of the fell powers that directed it, and Sunset's strength began to win out. The howling winds changed direction, the clouds began to break, a patch of light broke through the darkness, the snow eased up around her.

"Yes," Sunset hissed. "Yes! Break, storm, and bow before me!"

She could feel the anger in the sputtering blizzard, a feeling of outraged pride and wrath at her impertinence. Sunset recognised those feelings well, because she was feeling the exact same things herself. The snow ceased, and the winds changed direction as the clouds tightened up away from the mountain. The world was dark around Sunset once again but at least her friends would hopefully catch sight of the sun as the powers behind the storm redirected their energies and attentions towards Sunset herself. Lightning descended from the black clouds, but Sunset simply laughed as she raced through it, dodging the falling bolts as she turned and swooped and dived. She was as swift and as nimble as any pegasus, even the celebrated Wonderbolts themselves, and no lightning could catch her even with the winds howling into her wings to try and stay her.

Sunset frowned as she turned her powers to the task of breaking this storm once and for all. It seemed weaker now, much weaker, as though the energies of one of its architects-

A bolt of purple magic erupted out of the darkness like a lance. Sunset flipped in the air, letting the bolt pass harmlessly beneath her as she rolled away. The lance of magic was followed by a creature, another of those grimm-like things that were not grimm. This one...this one had the most uncanny resemblance to depictions of Nightmare Moon from out of the storybooks: the same unusual, overly rounded shape of the head, the slender limbs, the jagged wings; she even bad bone plates where Nightmare Moon was drawn to be wearing her armour.

I know this world is full of doppelgangers, but isn't this getting a little ridiculous?

Nightmare Moon - as Sunset could not help but mentally refer to her - charged towards her, wings outstretched on either side, carried forwards by the fury of the storm.

"Sunset Shimmer!" she hissed as she swept forwards.

Sunset grinned, glad of the infamy amongst her foes as she watched Nightmare Moon’s charge. She used a touch of telekinesis to steady hand and ring alike as she reached for the golden ring tied to unicorn magic and placed it on her finger.

Yes, Twilight had warned against using more than one at once but Twilight wasn't here right now, and she'd already learned that her own magic wasn't string enough in the face of these creatures. And besides, as the ring of gold slipped onto her finger it felt so glorious, so glorious that surely Twilight had only advised against wearing it because she wanted to keep Sunset down and keep her from reaching her true potential. But that was for later, for now nothing mattered but victory over this anger little pest swooping towards her.

Sunset let her come, and then as Nightmare Moon rushed forward on the wind Sunset soared upwards, out of her onrushing path, getting above the creature as she passed beneath.

And as her enemy passed beneath her Sunset struck, hammering her with a beam of magic red as blood that leapt from both hands, landing down to strike Nightmare Moon in the small of the back. She shrieked in pain as she was beaten downwards by the blast, her wings flailing as she was blasted down. Sunset followed, dropping like a thunderbolt even as she effortlessly dodged all the real thunderbolts that sought to strike her down. In fact, she was able to wrench control of the storm away from they who had conjured it and redirect those same bolts of lightning to fall with thunderous crashes upon Nightmare Moon herself.

Nightmare Moon continued to shriek and roar in mingled pain and anger as she struggled to right herself in the midst of winds that were no longer just her servants now but also her opponents. Another beam of magic shot from the tip of her horn, and Sunset met it with a crimson beam of her own power.

Once more the two beams met, just as Sunset and the other dread servant of the enemy had matched power with power once before. But this time, as Sunset's crimson beam pressed downwards against the purple beam of Nightmare Moon, it was Sunset's beam that proved the stronger. Sunset's anger burned hotter than the fury of her for as her beam pushed back the magic of her enemy. Sunset laughed, and fancied that she saw Nightmare Moon's eyes widen a little with fear before the red ray struck her.

A bolt of lightning, loosed when all her concentration had been bent upon the enemy beneath her, struck her in the small of the back, tearing into her aura and, just as importantly, distracting her long enough for Nightmare Moon to take flight, casting another blast of magic at Sunset, who conjured up a shield on which he blast dispersed harmlessly, even though in the air she was forced backwards by it nonetheless.

Sunset thus briefly disoriented, Nightmare Moon flew upwards, disappearing into the midst of the storm's darkness. Sunset hovered in place, watching as the lightning strikes lit up the black sky that the overbearing clouds had made, and with her pegasus powers kept them from striking her again. Her unicorn powers she held ready, two score of lances of magic red as blood hedging her like an obedient guard in preparation for the reappearance of her foes. She heard their voices yet upon the wind, not laughing now but filled with consternation. Sunset smiled, a smile that had something of a snarl within it for she knew, even if her foe did not, that she had become the hunter now - the huntress, even. And then let Nightmare Moon beware, for she had dared to meddle with Sunset Shimmer and the company that dared to shelter beneath her protection, and for that she would answer grievously.

Sunset would suffer no harm to come to her and hers.

A blast of magic presaged the arrival of Nightmare Moon from out of the dark. Sunset rolled in mid-air out of the path of the bolt, sending a half-dozen lances shooting towards the grimm-like thing as soon as her eyes beheld her. The lances struck, and the illusion of Nightmare Moon shattered as the real Nightmare, or at least Sunset's real opponent in this battle to be specific, charged out of the storm wreathed in a shield of green against which all the rest of Sunset's lances and the lightning of the storm turned against her beat like pebbles on a wall as she rushed on, fangs bared, bent on Sunset. She struck Sunset using her shield like a battering ram, bearing her enemy back and then bursting her own shield as Sunset herself was wont to do, tossing her into the storm depths as lighting landed down all about her. Sunset recovered, her shimmering wings beating furiously to right her, and it was her turn to conjure up a shield of her own as she rushed backwards to meet Nightmare Moon once again.

She put on her last ring, the iron ring of earth pony strength and stamina. By Celestia! The power which she felt, the tightening of her muscles, the way she felt as though she would burst out of her clothes, as though she could topple this whole mountain of the Ravensmount; as though she could tear Nightmare Moon to pieces with her bare hands, and she wished to do it too.

She charged, her wings beating furiously. The shield that surrounded her was proof against Nightmare Moon's magic as she swept through a broad beam unscathed. Nightmare Moon conjured up a shield of her own, and for a moment the two barriers ground against each other like two diamond blades each endeavouring in vain to cut the other. Sunset dropped her shield and cast a dispel, disrupting the barrier of her enemy in turn as she clubbed Nightmare Moon about the face with the butt of Sol Invictus.

Sunset roared as Nightmare Moon, her head near snapped clean around, whinnied in pain. She reversed her weapon and thrust it so hard into her chest that the bony armour that protected it cracked. Sunset extended the bayonet, driving the blade forward and into this demons heart...save that the enemy turned to smoke before the blow could land and fled away into the east.

Sunset howled with outrage. "Coward!" she cried. As well might her enemy run, as well might all the servants of the enemy flee before her death, but what impertinence to deny the complete triumph that was her due! Why she would follow where that dark cloudy wisp went, even to the ends of Remnant and see it dead before her.

But that would mean abandoning Ruby and the others.

So what? Let them stay behind if they could not keep up; she had a hunt to finish.

She wasn't here to win fights, but to end the storm and safeguard her companions.

Companions? What need had she of any company? She was the most gloriously powerful being seen in this land; she was greater than any maiden, greater than Ozpin, greater than any of them. These fools of Vale had dared to abuse her, to imprison her, to treat her like a slave to serve them in the humblest and most hazardous of offices until her dying day. They had collared her like a beast, and put her in a cage for their amusement, thinking that she lacked the power to do ought but bow her head and say 'why, thank you, sir'. Well, she had power now, and no reason to be humble nor to scrape and serve. She would return to Vale and punish all those ingrates who had transgressed against her, starting with Ruby-

Ruby.

Ruby, her fingers pale with cold as she clutched her dog close to her.

Ruby, who alone had-

-betrayed her-

-had the courage to condemn what deserved to be condemned in-

-saved her life-

-Sunset's conduct.

Sunset warred against her anger for control. She was no nightmare, she was no dark alicorn, she was the leader of Team Sapphire and her friend was waiting for her.

Sunset fought for control, and as she fought she cleared away the last vestiges of the storm and brought the clear skies back upon the mountain. She wrenched the rings of silver and iron off her fingers and stuffed them back into her pockets. She felt a little calmer after she had done that, and it was easier to think clearly, albeit she was still somewhat distracted by the feeling of debilitating weakness that had replaced the sensation of unstoppable strength. As her hands trembled and her arms hung limp by her sides, Sunset hoped that the surge of anger she had experienced towards Vale - and towards Ruby - was entirely a product of dark magic, and not something that she would find ordinarily in herself if she looked hard enough.

But where had the dark magic's anger come from, if not from herself?

Sunset teleported back to the mountainside what she had left the others, and as she teleported she took off the golden ring and as she took off the ring the last of her strength left her and she collapsed to her knees in the snow.

"Sunset," Cinder said. "Are you alright?"

Sunset gasped for breath, "I'm done," she confessed. "Fortunately, so are they."

"So we could move, if we weren't still snowed in," Jack said.

"Now that it's stopped snowing it will clear up," Lyra said. "Maybe."

"We're not standing here and waiting for that in this weather," Cardin said. "Hey, Pops, come up front here with me and let's see if we can't force a path."

Taiyang's eyebrows rose. "With our bodies?"

"Sunset just stopped a whole storm," Cardin said. "How hard can this be?"

As first Cardin and then Taiyang squeezed past Sunset to take the lead, Sunsrt glanced down the company at those that were left. "Where's Emerald?"

Cinder's face was stricken with pain. "Another lightning strike dislodged more rock before you put a stop to it. Emerald...I couldn't get to her in time."

"Celestia," Sunset murmured. She could not imagine what that must have been like. In truth she could not imagine a worse death than falling, having so long to contemplate the inevitable before it happened. "Cinder, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Cinder said, her voice harsh with bitterness. "It's mine."

"You can't blame-"

"I got her into this," Cinder snapped. “She never wanted to be a part of any of this, she was no huntress; she didn't want to be a hero or a villain. She didn't want to change the world, she didn't want to make her mark upon the pages of history. She was just a little sneak-thief like you can find on the streets of any city, albeit an exceptionally talented one." She sighed. "And it was that talent that led me to seek her out. I promised...I promised her food, that was all. That was all it took to make her a pawn in this war of Ozpin and Salem: to guarantee that she would never go hungry again." Cinder closer her eyes for a moment. "So who should I blame for her death, if not myself?"

"The mind that directed the lightning strike," Sunset said.

Cinder shook her head. "I can't absolve myself that easily, any more than you can so simply forgive yourself. We both know that guilt is never that simple. I got her involved, Sunset; if it weren't for me she'd still be running the streets of Alexandria. Her presence was my doing, and that means her fate is too." She was silent for a moment. "Of all the deaths that I have caused I think that hers is the one I will regret the most. Because with the others I could tell myself that if I had not done the deed some other servant of Salem would have been sent to wield the knife in my place but none other but I would have recruited Emerald. But also because...she trusted me. Right to the end, she thought that I would protect her."

"Cinder-"

"Don't try to talk me out of this, Sunset," Cinder said. "Don't try to tell me that I'm wrong. Just...leave me to my grief."

Sunset had no choice but to agree; she didn't like it, it stuck in her craw, but she had no choice in the face of Cinder's intransigence.

Right now, at least.

Meanwhile, Cardin and Taiyang were busy putting bodies to work since heads were at a loss. Taiyang was the tallest of the company, while Cardin was broader in the shoulders, and together they set about brute-forcing their way thoughts snow that, before Sunset had stopped it snowing, had risen to be waist high in places or higher still thanks to falls from higher places. At times Cardin had to burrow with his arms, shovelling snow aside to try and clear a path for the others to follow, while at other times the snow banks rose so high that it seemed the strong men must be buried for certain until, with a shout and a heave, they broke through onto the other side. And step by step they forced a pathway through the snow and blazed a traol for the rest to follow.

It was not an easy path; it would have needed a dozen or more men with spades to achieve even some semblance of that, instead there was a way forward which was passable but difficult. Cinder had to take Sunset by the arm and support her along, while Ruby kept shivering and stumbling until eventually Bon Bon swept her up in her armoured arms and bore her along like a babe in swaddling clothes, while Lyra took off her multi-coloured cloak and draped it over Ruby's shivering form.

Nevertheless, though the way was hard at least there was a way, and they followed in the rough, uneven, sometimes still as high as ankle deep path that Cardin and Taiyang had laid out for them until at last, with the last days of the sun they escaped the snow and, reaching the very top of the pass, gazed down upon eastern Sanus spread out like a painting before them.

They could not help but stop and stars, relief at their escape mingling with exhilaration at the sight of the whole world, or so it seemed, laid out in front of them for their awe, every river and field and forest yet visible on the dying light, every hamlet and village and all of it rendered beautiful by the soft orange glow that engulfed it as the light faded.

Sunset would have been awed too, had she not seen all this last night.

And had she not also caught a glimpse of what might be waiting for them below in the Goat's Cleft.

"You were defeated," Sombra said, his words laced with contempt. "By Sunset Shimmer?"

Selene winced. Her chest plate was already beginning to knit itself back together but it was a painful process. "I am not the only one," she said, with a glance towards the Storm King, who had been sharing the creation of the blizzard with her, and doing the greater share once she had begun to fight. And yet his storm had been utterly swept away by Sunset Shimmer and her power.

"I was not forced to flee," the Storm King said.

"No, you were merely rendered impotent," Selene snapped.

"Have you both grown so weak?" Sombre demanded. "Sunset Shimmer was a gnat to me."

"Then she has grown stronger by far since," Selene said. "For to me she was as Ozma reborn."

Sombra hissed in disgust. "Speak not that wretch’s name in my presence." He paused. "Though you are the weakest of our company it is disturbing that you were bested so easily."

"If you wish to try, O warrior king, perhaps you will have better fortune," Selene said. Even if she was the weakest of the four, the only one amongst them who had been a great warrior prior to receiving this curse, but that didn't mean that she appreciated having the fact rammed down her throat.

"If Sunset Shimmer has grown stronger then we had best engage them together," Sombra said. "Even if Tirek will not join with us then we three should have sufficient strength to overcome our foes; for are we not the last heroes of the elder days, however twisted and malformed we are?"

"But how are we to come at them?" Selene asked. "I dare not shadow them now that they have seen my incorporeal form."

"Even to find them on the mountainside was a stroke of rare good fortune," the Storm King said.

Sombra was silent in consideration. "They have crossed the mountains, into a land where, so we are told, there is nought worthy of notice. Why? To cross the sea, and regain their comrades in the land of Mistral, perhaps. Let us cross the mountains by another way, come to the coast before them and hope to find them there."

"How will we know where they plan to cross?" Selene asked.

"Perhaps such crossing-places will be few, and far between," Sombra suggested. "And if not, then we must hope for another stroke of rare good fortune."

Author's Note

Author’s Note: The Dark Regalia come from the Albinocorn’s fanfic Sunset of Time, one of the first fanfics I read in the MLP community.

The Father of Monsters

The Father of Monsters

"So," Yang said. "You came all this way to tell me that it was cold and windy on top of a mountain?"

Put like that, Ruby felt very small and rather foolish. So much so that she didn't feel able to protest that she had come all the way back to tell Yang other stuff as well. "I needed to see you," she said.

Yang sprawled out on the couch in the living room. Her luxurious locks were tied back in a ponytail, which suited her even while it looked really unusual at the same time. "You wanted to see me. There's a difference."

"How do you know?"

"Because you don't need me, Rubes," Yang replied. "You never did."

"That's not true," Ruby insisted. "I do need you, and…and even if it is true, then so what? Isn't wanting you enough? Isn't wanting things to be the way they were enough?"

Yang's smile was sad as a wind blew through the open window of the living room. "That's not the way it works, Ruby," she said. "And it never was."

Ruby woke up with tears in her eyes.

It was still night; the middle of the night, judging by the way that the moon was still hanging so high in the sky and everyone around Ruby was fast asleep. The only person that Ruby could see awake was Cinder, on watch, standing with her back to Ruby and the camp, as still as if she had been turned to stone, the moonlight glimmering upon the glass of her bow.

Everyone else was sleeping. They had come down off the mountain today – or yesterday, depending on what day it was – and made camp on the edge of the valley called the Goat's Cleft, which would lead them out of the mountains and into the east. Sunset hadn't looked too happy about it, but she hadn't said why; or rather she'd say that she would tell them all tomorrow, once they were rested.

Once everyone else was rested. Ruby didn't feel like going back to sleep now, or even trying to. If she closed her eyes she just knew that it would be Yang's face she saw, even more than she could see it already in her mind's eye.

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, but more replaced them almost at once. They flowed down her cheeks and no matter how often Ruby wiped at eyes or cheeks there were always more of them; they just wouldn't stop coming. Just like the memory of Yang in her dream, her hair bound back into the biggest ponytail that Ruby had ever seen, wouldn't leave her own even if she wanted it to.

Never mind that she didn't really want it to no matter much it hurt. If it was the closest she could come to seeing her sister again then she didn't want to let it go.

A sob escaped Ruby's lips, and she couldn't sit still any longer. At this rate she was going to wake up the whole camp, and she didn't want to deal with that right now. She didn't want to deal with Sunset or her dad or their attempts to help her. They meant well, she knew that and she appreciated it; but Dad had his own problems to deal with and it was selfish to make him deal with Ruby instead of himself; and Sunset…Sunset didn't really get it. How could she? She'd never lost anyone like that, so how could she know?

She was lucky.

And so Ruby fled, running out of the camp before her sobbing or her crying could awaken anyone else, leaving a trail of rosepetals like blood dripping from a wound that would not heal as she ran away from the valley and back towards the mountain that loomed above them.

She came to a halt in the shade of a solitary cypress tree, less by choice than because what with it being dark and with her eyes flooded with unceasing tears she couldn't see where she was going as well as she'd like and she tripped over one of the tree's exposed roots and went flying flat on her face on the ground.

She lay there for a while, her head resting on her arms, her body wracked by sobs.

I know that that's not how it works, but that doesn't mean I don't still want you.

I miss you so much.

“None of us should wander alone,” Cinder said. “Not in this country. You least of all.”

Ruby looked up, to see Cinder Fall standing over her, one hand outstretched to help her up.

Ruby didn’t take it. She could get up without Cinder’s help, and she…she still wasn’t sure how much she trusted Cinder. Sunset trusted her, true, but Sunset…Sunset was weird where Cinder was concerned, and always had been. Sunset could forget that Cinder was responsible for everything that had gone wrong, but Ruby couldn’t; not so easily.

So she got up by herself, and said, “I can take care of myself.” She reached for Crescent Rose on her back…except that she’d taken it off to sleep and it was actually back at camp. She clasped her hands behind her back and hoped that she didn’t look too stupid.

“I never said you couldn’t,” Cinder said, her expression giving no sign that she noticed Ruby’s actions. “I meant that…your disappearance in particular would grieve more…than some others.”

“It’s not like I’m running away,” Ruby replied. “I just…shouldn’t you be standing guard?”

“I woke Sunset and asked her to relieve me.”

“Did you tell her why?”

“If I had she would have come out here to you herself,” Cinder said. “I didn’t think that was what you’d want.”

“I wanted to be alone,” Ruby said pointedly.

“I’m sure you did,” Cinder said. “But as I said, that isn’t a good idea for anyone.”

Silence descended between the two of them, like one of those death-trap walls with spikes sticking out that you saw in cheesy movies; only there was no last minute escape from this death trap, instead Ruby felt impaled upon the spikes, unable to get away from Cinder even though she kind of – and more than kind of – wanted to. And the wall from which the spikes were jutting rose between them high and stout and impenetrable, preventing any words that the other might have said from reaching the other, so what was the point? There wasn’t one, to Ruby’s mind; she doubted that she would ever understand Cinder and she didn’t think it was possible for Cinder to ever understand her and why would they want to understand each other anyway? What would they get out of it? What would she gain from understanding the person who had brought about all the things that had led to Yang’s death and the break-up of her team? Who had helped to break the world the way she had? And how could someone who had done all those things understand somebody like Ruby? She sometimes thought that, as much as she tried and as much as she cared, even Sunset didn’t really get her, so what chance did Cinder have?

But all the same, despite the pointlessness of attempting to communicate, Ruby couldn’t leave; it was as though her feet had been stuck to the ground with ice dust.

She was trying very hard not to show it, but Cinder seemed to feel the same awkwardness that Ruby felt, the same sense of being trapped with nothing to say. “That…that’s a new outfit, isn’t it?” she said. “You weren’t wearing that at Beacon?”

“I thought it was time for a change,” Ruby said quietly.

“And you wanted to look more adult,” Cinder said. “For your father? So that he’d see you as a grown woman, and not a child that he needed to take care of? The woman of the house, not the little sister. Or were you trying to look a little more like her?”

“What?” Ruby said. “I don’t look anything like Yang.”

“There are one or two similarities.”

“So?” Ruby demanded. “Did you need a reason to change?”

“That old thing was getting a little worn out,” Cinder replied. “Not to mention…filled with some unpleasant memories. I’m guessing that’s another reason you wanted to change into something new.”

“Stop it,” Ruby snapped. “Just…just stop, okay? You don’t know anything about me so…so what are you even doing here? What are you doing here? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” She sobbed, her stomach hurting so much that it almost made her want to double over on herself. Unbidden, the tears returned to her eyes as fiercely as they had flowed just a few moments before. “You…you…you ruined everything,” Ruby said. “You turned Sunset into a monster, you brought the grimm and the chaos and the discord. You drove Amber insane, so that she didn’t know who she could trust and ended up running to Salem for help. Everything that happened at the end of the year happened because you started it; everyone who died was killed because of you! Yang died because of you and why…why is…what are you still doing here when Yang is gone?”

“Do you think that I haven’t asked myself that?” Cinder said. “Do you think that I don’t ask myself that every single day?”

Ruby looked up. Cinder stood with her profile to the other girl, looking up at the broken moon in the sky above them.

“Do you honestly think,” Cinder said. “That that question, and others like it, are not constantly uppermost in my mind: why am I repaid for my machinations with a second chance? Why do I deserve life, still less Sunset’s affections? What am I, now that I am no longer the Fall Maiden, no longer Salem’s right hand-“

“You were never the Fall Maiden,” Ruby growled. “You were only ever a thief.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted. “Hard as it is for my ego to admit it. I’m not sure whether that makes it worse or better. Probably neither. It neither helps nor hinders the question: what am I now; what do I want now?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said.

“Of course you can’t answer that question for me,” Cinder said. “Can you answer it for yourself?”

“I know who I am,” replied the blood-crowned girl. “I’m Ruby Rose.”

Cinder nodded casually. “And what does Ruby Rose want?”

“I want the same thing I’ve always wanted,” Ruby said. “I want to do the best I can.”

“How vaguely laudable of you.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ruby demanded. “Why do you even care?”

“Because you’re right,” Cinder said. “It is unfair that I’m here when others are not; others whose deaths I connived at, others who died as a result of my machinations. Others who died as a consequence of all I set in motion. I’m not sure yet what I want but I think that I have no choice but to do…the best I can in consequence of doing the worst for so long.”

Ruby snorted. “You think that if you talk to me it will make everything better?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cinder said, sounding incredulous that Ruby could actually believe that she was so naive or clueless. “But I think that, if I didn’t talk to you, I might not be able to claim to be better. Not when I might be the only person here who understands what you’re going through; except for your father, but you don’t want to burden him unnecessarily, do you?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You need help,” Cinder replied. “Help that you can’t get from Sunset. I can see how much it pains her to be unable to help you with this.”

“So that’s why you’re doing this? You’re helping me so that you can help Sunset?”

Cinder smirked. “Would you rather think that? Would it make it easier for you to accept my aid if you could tell yourself that I had an ulterior motive?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “It would be easier to understand than trying to think of you as someone who cares.”

Cinder chuckled. “I am not your enemy, Ruby Rose.”

“Maybe not any more,” Ruby replied. “But you aren’t my friend.”

“No,” Cinder agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand you. They never found my mother’s body either. We buried an empty coffin in the cemetery.”

Ruby stiffened, her back straightening involuntarily. Her eyes began to dry up, and so did her throat. “Don’t,” she said.

“I’m not trying to…” Cinder paused for a moment. “We’re not so different, you and I. I am perhaps a living father and a loving sister away from becoming a great hero, a shining light to inspire the world; and you might be the absence of those things away from being a monster fit for nightmares. Or perhaps the real difference is that I turned my back on everything my mother had fought and died for you…but you embraced it with both hands.”

“I want to help people,” Ruby said. “You only wanted to help yourself.”

“I needed the help,” Cinder said. “The point is…the point is I know what it’s like to have the heart of your world ripped away from you; twice. It makes a hole, a void. An emptiness that has to be filled up with something. Nature abhors a vacuum after all.”

“I don’t feel as though I’m full of anything,” Ruby said. “It still feels pretty empty to me.”

Cinder nodded. “I didn’t say that it would happen at once. But it will happen. It happened to me. My empty voids filled up with anger, and hatred; after my father died…the only two people that I loved were gone, the anger and the hate was almost all that was left.”

“The only two?” Ruby asked. “You never had any friends?”

“A few, in Argus,” Cinder said. “But we left them all behind when my father moved us back to Mistral. They all moved on without me, in ways that I could not.”

Ruby nodded. She closed her eyes. “There are times…I want to get to Mistral, and see Jaune and Pyrrha again but there are times…there are times when I think of them there, together, and I think about how happy they are and I get so…so angry,” Ruby said. “Like why do they get to be happy when everything else feels like it’s falling apart?” She frowned. “And then I feel like a terrible person.”

“No, just a human like the rest of us,” Cinder said. “And here I thought you were some kind of alabaster statue brought to life.” She paused. “Although when I allowed myself to become full of anger and hate at least it was directed towards people who deserved my hatred.”

Ruby’s eyebrows rose.

Cinder shifted uncomfortably. “Alright, perhaps not all of them,” she admitted. “But my stepmother and stepsisters deserved all the malice that I bore them and more.”

Ruby continued to stare at her.

“I will not say that I regret their deaths, or even that I was the one who murdered them,” Cinder growled. “Much I will admit that I did wrong, but their deaths are nowhere near my conscience.”

“And you wonder why I don’t trust you.”

“I know why you don’t trust me: because you hold those around you to impossible standards of nobility you hold for yourself,” Cinder said. “Standards that not even you can meet.”

“I can,” Ruby said.

Now it was Cinder’s turn to raise an eyebrow. She looked very much…she looked sorry for Ruby, far sorrier than she had seemed just a moment ago in the discussion of grief and loss. It was as if she was now doubting what she had said just a moment ago, about Ruby being human after all. “Be careful of what comes in,” she said eventually. “It will determine who you become, and what you want. I let the hate, the anger and the fear come in and so I became a monster, I wanted death and vengeance and the power to ensure that I could never be hurt again. Is that the path you want to walk?”

“Of course not!”

“Then let something else in instead,” Cinder said. “You still-“

She was cut off as the ground began to crumble beneath their feet, splitting and cracking and bucking underneath as though there was a tremor that only the two of them could feel ripping through the earth.

“What’s happening?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know,” Cinder said. “Get back to camp, ru-“

Too late. The ground opened upon underneath, revealing a gaping black maw beneath the earth into which the two of them were falling, falling, falling down into the darkness.

…

They hit the ground with a solid crunch that Ruby felt through her aura, which she could tell without having to look at her scroll must have taken a pretty nasty hit. She opened her eyes, to find that it was not nearly as dark at the bottom of this pit – or whatever – as she would have expected it to be. It had been dark during the fall, so dark that she couldn’t see Cinder at all and didn’t expect that Cinder could see her, so dark that – since Cinder did not yell as she fell, keeping silent for some reason; perhaps she was too proud to cry out as she was falling down what felt like a bottomless pit; perhaps she was afraid that Ruby would think she was weak if she did anything as human as shout – she didn’t even know if Cinder was still there or if she had hit a ledge or the hole that turned into a pair of tunnels and Cinder had fallen down a different one or…or anything.

But it wasn’t so dark down here. While it had been dark further up, down here at the bottom of wherever it was they found themselves, down here there was a light; a dark purple light, faint at times and pulsing on and off, but enough light to see Cinder lying on the ground with her feet closest to Ruby.

“Cinder?” Ruby groaned. “Are you-“

“Yes,” Cinder growled, cutting Ruby off as she climbed to her feet. Once more she offered a hand to Ruby, and once more Ruby refused it and scrambled upright by herself. Once more Cinder didn’t comment on the snub. “Do you have your scroll with you?”

Ruby nodded, as she pulled it out of the pouch at her belt; she didn’t sleep with Crescent Rose fastened to her back, but she did keep her belt on and everything within the pouches, trusting that things like her scroll were tough enough to survive her rolling onto them; while on the other hand the lumps that she felt from said pouches weren’t that much different from the lumps of stones and roots and uneven ground, and certainly no worse. She pulled open her scroll, and first checked the aura management app to see that it was about what she’d expected: she was in the yellow already.

From the back of Cinder’s scroll Ruby could see that she was in the same position.

Ruby scrolled to the call app, her finger racing across the transparent surface of the scroll. “No signal,” she said. “You?”

Cinder’s answer was to snap her scroll shut and put it away in disgust. She studied their surroundings, prompting Ruby to do likewise.

It didn’t look like a natural hole in the ground, a really deep sinkhole or anything like that. First there were the pulsing purple lights, or course, but also the fact that those sickly lights were coming from thin, spike rocks or crystals or something jutting up out of the soil or emerging from out of the walls. And they weren’t the only things coming out of the walls: when Ruby looked more closely she could see, not too far away and illuminated by the purple glow, what looked like a metal face, like an old-fashioned helmet with a face-mask but the man who wore that helm must have been a true giant, the size of an ursa at least. Who would have worn such a thing, and were they still buried inside their armour?

Nor was that all. The more Ruby’s eyes became accustomed to the low light, the more than she could see that the giant’s helm was not the only piece of armour – at least she kind of hoped that it was armour – scattered around them: helms, solid and boxy cuirasses, giant vambraces, greaves and armoured boots combined littered the ground, illuminated by the purple light from the crystalline spikes.

The masks of the helmets had faces on them, forged into the design when they were made, although Ruby didn’t know why any armourer would craft a mask with an expression of pain or horror, nor why any warrior would want to have such a mask made, let alone want to wear it into battle. And yet they were all like that, these masks frozen at the forging into contortions of agony, as if their maker had wanted them to depict their masters’ last moments instead of their best.

“Where are we?” Ruby asked. “Is it…is it a tomb?”

“What kind of tomb leaves those entombed within scattered about so idly, ripped to shreds,” Cinder replied. “This is a mass grave after a battle. It may not even have been on purpose, time itself might have buried these men.”

“Men?” Ruby said. “What kind of men could wear armour like this? These cuirasses…you’ve have to be…twelve feet? Sixteen? Maybe twenty feet tall to wear some of these, maybe taller. What kind of men could wear armour like that?”

“I don’t know,” Cinder admitted. “Nor do I really care. I’d rather not be here long enough to find the answers.”

Ruby frowned. “I wonder where their weapons are?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s lots of armour,” Ruby said. “But no weapons. Do you really believe that they could make armour like this but they fought with their bare hands?”

“Maybe the armies took the weapons with them,” Cinder said. “Left the armour to the fallen as a sign of respect. It really doesn’t matter. Unless you want to stay down here.”

Ruby shook her head. She looked up. The moonlight was a spotlight high up above them. Very high. “I can’t make that jump.”

“I wouldn’t like to try climbing, with our aura levels as they are,” Cinder said. “We wouldn’t have many falls in us. But they must have heard the earth breaking, it won’t be long until Sunset comes to get us. I’m sure it will be simple for her to teleport us out.”

A noise startled both of them. It was coming from one of the tunnels leading away from the cavernous chamber into which they had plunged – the presence of those tunnels was one of the other reasons Ruby didn’t believe they were in a natural hole – somewhere in the darkness beyond the reach of the purple glow from the shards of rock.

There it was again, a kind of slithering sound from somewhere in the dark.

They weren’t alone down here.

I really, really wish that I had Crescent Rose with me right now.

I kinda wish that one of these…bodies had a weapon that I could use.

Cinder’s bow appeared in her hand, and she turned to face the apparent source of the noise, drawing back the string as a glass arrow appeared, nocked and ready.

“Stay behind me,” Cinder hissed.

Ruby looked for a weapon, searching by the light of the- of course! She technically stayed behind Cinder, or at least in the region behind her, as she rushed to the wall of the…whatever this was, and seized one of the purple rocks in both hands.

It burned at her. It was as though there was something alive within these crystals, something that, while it might not have liked her touch, was excited by it nevertheless. She could feel something squirming within the rock as she pulled at it, she could feel it warm to the touch of her hands and she guessed that if she didn’t have her aura she would be in real pain right now. And yet she didn’t feel her aura draining because of it, or else she would have let go. It – she didn’t know of any better way to think of it, even though it couldn’t be alive; it was just a rock, how could it have anything living inside it? – might not like her, but it didn’t seem to want to hurt her either.

And yet she felt something almost like pain when she snapped off the glowing shard to use as a club. The glow faded almost completely, leaving only a pale, dying glimmer of light within her makeshift weapon. The stump that was all that visibly remained seemed to glow brighter in consequence, pulsing angrily at what Ruby had done.

It was weird, but she couldn’t give it too much thought right now. She had more important things to worry about.

Cinder scowled. “Wherever you are, come out. I tire of waiting.”

It emerged from the darkness, half bull and half snake, with serpent’s fangs descending from the mouth of a bull, the hooves of a bull held before it and a snake’s tail wriggling as it crawled along the ground. It was like nothing that Ruby had ever seen before, but she could have handled that if it were just another weird grimm.

But it was no grimm, it wasn’t black and it had no bleached white bony plates anywhere to be seen. This thing was green, with an amber belly and horns in two shades of grey, and its eyes were yellow, not red.

This was no grimm, whatever it was, but as it advanced upon Cinder, hissing like a cobra, it was definitely hostile.

Cinder’s smouldering eyes widened but she didn’t hesitate to let fly with her first arrow, striking the bull-snake square in the chest. The glass arrow shattered upon its aura – it had aura too? – but it did seem to make the creature hesitate as Cinder retreated, another pair of arrows appearing on her bowstring.

The creature didn’t hesitate either. It lunged at her, taking the hits of her two arrows upon its head without flinching from the damage to its aura as it ploughed into Cinder, smashing through her glass bow and slamming into her midriff, bearing her backwards with a winded exclamation of pain before it lifted her up and slammed her down into the ground. It reared up on its snake-like body, hissing and spitting as it prepared to trample her beneath its hooves.

Ruby charged, yelling as she smashed the creature across the face with her improvised club. It wasn’t Crescent Rose by any means, but it gave her enough leverage to hit the thing so hard that its head was twisted around with a grunt of pain. She raised the club to hit it again, but the creature was prepared for her this time and parried her downwards stroke with its horns, grappling with her crystal weapon as it tried to wrest it out of her hands. Ruby struggled against the monster’s strength as they each pulled upon the purple rock, the monster’s body wriggling on top of Cinder’s prone form as it strove with Ruby.

Cinder stretched out her hands and the shards of glass returned to her, forming not a bow but a pair of curved scimitar-like blades with which she stabbed upwards into the bull-snake’s belly.

It’s aura broke with a dark green ripple as the blades struck home, the glass burying itself inside the creature’s belly. The bull-snake roared in pain, doubling over and writhing in place.

Ruby wrenched her club back from out of the monster’s horns, reversed it in her grasp, and drove the pointed end into its chest.

The monster howled in pain, and this time it succeeded in wrenching the club away from Ruby, but only in its death throes as Ruby lost her grip upon the crystal shard now thick with blood as the snake-bull hybrid crawled unsteadily away from Cinder and Ruby, leaving a trail of blood behind before it collapsed a few feet away, groaning softly in pain.

After a few moments even the groans had stopped.

Ruby offered Cinder a hand up. Cinder got to her feet without taking it.

“What was that thing?” Ruby asked.

“You think I know?” Cinder replied.

“You did…used to be evil.”

“Salem is the mistress of grimm,” Cinder said. “Not mistress of bizarre chimeras. Wherever that thing came from it wasn’t from her.”

“At least it’s dead now,” Ruby said. “Unless there are-“

The monster roared.

Cinder whirled around to look at it. Ruby stared too as the snake-bull – a purple glow rising from it – got up onto its snakey tail once more.

A purple light suffused the monsters as the crystal shard that Ruby had driven into its chest melted into its chest, like cheese under the grill melting into a crumpet, turning to liquid before their eyes even though it was cold down here. The creature glowed with the light that had once been in the rock or…no, it couldn’t be a rock since it was, y’know, melting, but whatever it was the light was filling up the monster, as its eyes turned purple and random metal parts began to sprout from its body: a ridge of glowing purple spikes running down its back and jutting out of its bull legs.

They could see the purple glow coming out of its mouth as it hissed at them.

Cinder roared in anger, her scimitars glinting purple as they caught the glow from the crystal shards as she leapt at the monster before it could leapt at her, slicing diagonally downwards with both swords in a stroke that cut deep into the creature’s flesh, drawing blood and a causing more of that purple glow to issue from the wound. The creature snarled, but Cinder snarled right back at it as she drove one of her blades up through the bottom of its jaw and into the top of its head. The monster hung there, a grotesque puppet, trying to move its mouth as Cinder sliced and sliced with her free blade, cutting off both hooves and hacking at the monster’s neck until its headless trunk dropped to the ground at her feet, leaving only the head stuck on her sword.

Ruby stared. “It…it didn’t have any aura.”

Cinder tossed the head aside. “It wasn’t really alive. Not after we killed it the first time.”

Ruby blinked. “You told me that nothing could bring back the dead.”

“You call that coming back?” Cinder asked harshly.

“No,” Ruby whispered. “No, I don’t.”

“And besides,” Cinder said, her tone softening a little. “I’d never seen anything like this when I told you that.”

There was another sound, a scuffling sound this time but unmistakably the noise of something else approaching, another possible enemy bearing down upon them.

“We can’t stay here,” Cinder said. “We need to move.”

“But Sunset-“

“Will have to find us,” Cinder snapped. “You’re unarmed, and neither of us is at full aura after that fall.” She breathed out firmly, as she combined her blades into a bow once more. “So long as you’re alive you can win,” she said. “But once you’re dead you’ve lost for good.”

Ruby nodded, albeit reluctantly. “So we run?”

“Yes,” Cinder said. “We run.”

And run they did, as more monsters emerged out of the dark.

Cinder turned and fired off a glass arrow at the creature – some kind of wild boar, albeit a very large-looking one – that pursued them. The arrow landed at the boar’s feet, before blowing up in its face. Cinder took a degree of satisfaction from the animal’s howl of pain as she turned and followed Ruby down the underground tunnel.

She didn’t know where they were going, and Ruby didn’t know either. At present their only objective was to stay alive; they could worry about where they were or how to find their way back later, after they had shaken off this pursuit.

Cinder growled wordlessly. She would not die down here, in this place, to these things. She might have relinquished destiny and grand ambition, she might have repented of her dreams of sovereignty and power, but that didn’t mean that she was going to lie down and die in an underground warren in a valley on the edge of the eastern wilds with a name like the Goat’s Cleft, run down and devoured like a helpless doe brought to bay by the hounds of the hunt by a collection of creatures sprung out of storybook and nightmare of which she had never heard before and of which the wider world knew naught. She didn’t know what she was now, she didn’t know where she was going, she wasn’t even completely sure what she wanted, but she knew that this was not her fate.

Though she was not made to be great and terrible in equal measure, surely she had not passed through so much fire and death to meet an end so ignominious? Ruby had asked her why she was still here, when better souls than her were dead and gone; surely she had not been kept alive so far only to die in this place, at the hands of this rabble?

This rabble who would kill her if they had the chance, and Ruby too. Ruby. Ruby who had no weapon; Ruby who had Sunset’s love. She had to keep Ruby alive. She could never return to the camp if she did not. Ruby could go back without Cinder, but Cinder could not return without Ruby; that was the plain, unvarnished truth of it, and like or dislike came not near the fact of the matter. She saved Ruby, or she did not save herself.

So she would protect Ruby Rose. Because she was, for the moment, still Cinder Fall and no monsters of the dark and underground were going to get the best of her.

She leapt, kicking off the walls to carry her up towards the high ceiling of the earthen tunnel to kick at a little furry creature, that looked like the evil cousin of some foolish little girl’s stuffed toy – in fact Cinder could swear that she had once had a stuffed toy that looked like this little monster’s kindly relative, back when she had been a foolish little girl with a family that loved her – in the face as it tried to leap up onto Ruby’s back. It flew into the darkness with a yelp of pain.

These things had aura, but it seemed to be very weak and easily broken by attacks that a man would have shrugged off. For that Cinder was thankful.

But there were so many of them. They crawled or ran or shambled out of the darkness, or else they burst out of the earth with fangs bared and jaws agape. Wyrms and serpentine creatures; chimeras of all descriptions – one of them an actual chimera that had tried to get between Cinder and Ruby until Cinder cut off its snake-tail – great eels that burst out of the ground to try and swallow them whole; bulls and boars and lions of a monstrous size with inky blackness in their eyes; little beasts with jaws far too big for their small statures; giant suits of armour driven by a dark red glow within them; and the dead, the shambling dead who walked amidst the monsters. Some of them were mere skeletons, all flesh having sloughed from off their bodies long ago; some of them had only just begun to decay, most bore the mark upon them of a violent death, a skull stoved in, a chest cut open, a throat slit; all of them had eyes and mouths and any other visible orifice or opening that burned with a mixture of that pulsing purple light that had illuminated the serpent-bull upon its twisted resurrection and a golden light that intertwined and danced around it; the skeletons were filled with these lights, it was all that could be seen beneath their bones, but even the less decayed dead were suffused with it, whatever it was.

Whatever it is? It is magic, clearly, although not magic of a sort that I have ever seen. Cinder had never witnessed Salem wielding power such as this; no magic could bring back the dead, Salem had told her after Cinder had got down upon one knee and, in return for her faithful service, begged the Dark Mother for the return of her own mother from beyond the grave; Salem had informed her with regret in her voice that it was quite impossible.

It is far from impossible that she lied to me. She was not above doing so.

Yet I meant what I said to Ruby: you can hardly call this returning to life. It was not at all clear that these corpses could even think for themselves, although if it was not aura they had something that allowed them to withstand Cinder’s arrows and the blows of her swords, and to stand up to more such punishment than some of their more obviously monstrous brethren.

But monstrous or dead or something of both – for there were some of the creatures that seemed to have been brought back to life – they were all dangerous, especially to a huntress without a weapon and half her aura gone and another who shared one of those difficulties.

I will not die tonight. Not like this. Cinder thought, as she shot a trio of arrows into a snake with the head of a chicken – a creature that did not look as comical as it sounded when it was trying to bite you.

I may fall, but not like this.

She turned her bow into a pair of swords with which to slice a shambling skeleton into pieces in a flurry of blows with rendered it a pile of bones from which all glow of magic surely faded. She looked behind her, to see that Ruby was some ten feet ahead, still running. Cinder made to follow her.

Something coiled around her leg, yanking Cinder off her feet before she could react, pulling her onto her side, dragging her into the dark of a side tunnel.

Ruby! Cinder thought as she scrambled to her feet, feeling the taut tug that had dragged her down and backwards easing off. She had to get to Ruby. She had to protect her. She would never be welcomed back into the company without the silver-eyed girl they loved so well. Sunset might believe that Cinder had done the best she could but there is no way Ruby’s father would believe it. She had to-

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to kill her; not yet, at least. She’s needed alive, for the moment.”

Cinder’s eyes widened. That voice. It can’t be. “No,” Cinder murmured. “No, this isn’t possible.”

“Believe it, Cinder,” Phoebe declared. “I’m back.”

Cinder rolled over onto her back. It couldn’t be – but it was. There was no way but there she stood: Phoebe Kommenos, her stepsister, arrayed in all her gilded armour, with her spear gripped tightly in one hand and her tall tower shield upon her other arm; her eyes glowed purple and gold, but in spite of that she was yet managing to stare down at Cinder with just as much contempt as she had been want to show whenever she looked down on Cinder grubbing in the fireplace or doing some menial chore around the house.

“No,” Cinder murmured.

Phoebe laughed, that high-pitched laugh that Cinder had always feared and hated in equal measure. “What’s the matter, Cinder? Are you scared?”

“I was never afraid of you while you were alive,” Cinder lied as she surged to her feet, reacting angrily in the hope that anger would come and give her courage. “I’m not afraid of you dead.”

“Then why are your hands shaking?”

“This isn’t real!” Cinder snarled. “I killed you. I killed you!”

“This seems to be a place for the dead returning, doesn’t it?”

Cinder bared her teeth as she flowed into a sword stance, one blade held low and the other up high. “Then I’ll just have to kill you again, won’t I?”

“If you can. It’s not as though you have your magic any more,” Phoebe said. “You’re just little Cinder Fall, my scared little stepsister who used to beg me to stop.”

“Shut up!” Cinder yelled. “I don’t need to be the Fall Maiden to be…” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait, how did you know about that?”

“About what?” Phoebe asked.

“About my magic,” Cinder said. “You didn’t know, there’s no way you could have known, did death suddenly grant you omniscience?”

Phoebe hesitated, and then disappeared before Cinder’s eyes, revealing not the stepsister that Cinder had murdered…but rather the servant she had led to her death.

Emerald stood before her.

And yet she was not as she had been. Her head was not quite at the right angle relative to her neck, and more the point it was caved in just above the right temple, her neon-green hair matted and red with stiff, dry blood; metal was beginning to protrude from out of her body, little shards and scraps and spikes emerging from out of her twisted neck, from out of her legs, down her arms they formed vicious-looking spines like the claws of a mantis, it looked like metal wings were starting to sprout from out of her shoulders; and her eyes, once red-brown, now glowed with that mixture of purple and gold that Cinder had seen so often in this underground warren.

“You got me,” Emerald said. “Just like I got a little carried away there.”

Cinder stared at her. “Emerald? No. This is another illusion, another trick.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you fell,” Cinder said. “I watched you fall.”

Emerald popped her head back into place with an audible crick. “I did fall,” she said. “You let me fall. You let me die.” She raised both of her revolvers to take aim at Cinder.

Cinder took a step back. “Emerald? What are you doing?”

“You let me die,” Emerald said, her voice as cold as the wind gusting through the city streets in which she’d made her home. “You took me away and you led me to my death.”

Cinder closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did.”

“I had a life on the streets,” Emerald snarled. “I wasn’t rich but I was surviving!”

“I know.”

“Huntsmen, magic, Maidens, relics, the grimm?” Emerald demanded. “I would never have gone near any of that if it wasn’t for you! I would never have been anywhere near this place if it weren’t for you!”

“I know.”

“I gave up everything for you. I followed everywhere you led, even when you rebelled against Salem I followed you. I even followed you into captivity and a cage.”

“I know.”

“I loved you,” Emerald said. “You were so strong, and so passionate; you seemed like such a mighty figure, like a god from some old story. I loved you, even though I could tell that Sunset Shimmer was…you only saw me as a pawn.”

“I know.”

“Stop saying that!” Emerald shrieked. “Stop saying that you know as if you understand.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Cinder demanded. “Everything that you say is true. Should I deny it so that you can become even more inflamed at me? I took advantage of you, I led you into battle that was none of your concern, I involved you in a world too large for you, I knew how you felt and I either ignored it…or worse, I took advantage of your devotion to me, a devotion I had no intention of returning. I led you to your death.” A ragged breath escaped her. “But Emerald, tell me…who has done this to you?”

“I did,” the voice that emerged from out of the darkness was old, ancient even, a low rasp rich with years, as deep as the waters in which the leviathans swam. “With my magic, and a little touch of the Blood of Unicron, I have restored this lost child, just as I have restored all the sacrifices offered up to me by those who have passed through this valley and over the mountain beyond. She was not laid upon the altar, but she was offered up as sacrifice nonetheless.”

“Who are you?” Cinder asked, her eyes attempting to penetrate the darkness to no avail.

“Does the name Grogar mean anything to you?” Grogar – Cinder presumed – asked.

“Not until now,” Cinder said.

“It will to the one called Sunset Shimmer, I hope,” Grogar said from out of the darkness. “Yes, I know the names of your companions. It was fascinating to observe the battle on the mountain. I recognise the magic of my home when I see it brought to bear, and Emerald was willing to answer all of my questions.”

“Emerald?”

“I serve a new master now,” Emerald said. “One who will not repay my service with neglect.”

“Emerald tells me that the girl Ruby is well loved,” Grogar declared. “That is good. Love is so easily manipulated, and for that reason she will be allowed to survive, for now. You, on the other hand, I have no need of. Emerald, child; dispose of her, and take your revenge.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Is that what you want?” Cinder said. “Or is that what he’s telling you to do?”

“Don’t you think I deserve to kill you?”

“I want to know if you can say no.”

“It…it doesn’t matter,” Emerald said. “I wouldn’t even if I could. I see clearly now.”

“And so do I,” Cinder growled. “You’re right: you do deserve to kill me. However, as much as I deserve death,” She chuckled. “I refuse to welcome it!” She charged, her glass swords held before her, weaving patterns through the air as Emerald fired, her revolvers blazing as green as her hair as round after round left the pistol barrels. Cinder blocked the shots with her swords, furiously beating away the bullets, as she closed the distance between them.

She slashed at Emerald with one glass scimitar. Emerald blocked with both her pistols, the hook-like blades appearing beneath the barrels to try and trap her sword beneath them. Cinder lashed out with her leg, bringing up her knee to collide with Emerald’s thigh and then, as she staggered with a wince of pain, bringing her other sword to cut across her exposed midriff. Emerald tried to sweep Cinder’s legs out from beneath her, but Cinder leapt above the kick to deliver a kick of her own with both feet to Emerald’s gut, staggering her backwards.

Cinder pursued her, thrusting one sword forward. Emerald parried with the blade beneath her pistol barrel, while with the other gun she slashed at Cinder’s face at eye-level. Cinder leaned back away from the blade, only for Emerald – with a speed greater than she had enjoyed when she was alive – reverse her stroke to slash Cinder across the face with the spines jutting out of her wrist and arm. Cinder felt her aura cut away as she was forced backwards, a moment before she felt the bullet hit her in the gut and double her over with the force of the impact.

She didn’t know exactly how much aura she had left but if it was more than a sliver Cinder would be very surprised. She leapt away, putting a little distance between herself and Emerald. Her glass blades fell away from her, crumbling into shards that tinkled on the ground as they descended to the earth. Emerald raised her revolvers.

“I used to think that you were destined to prevail,” Emerald said. “I looked at you and I thought that you were indomitable, that you would never give up. But now? You could have been the Fall Maiden. You were the Fall Maiden. You could have been the Red Queen of Vale. But now? Without your magic, what are you?”

“I’m what I’ve always been since the moment you met me. I’m Cinder Fall.” Cinder raised one hand, and all the shards of glass from her shattered Midnight flew towards Emerald in a torrent, a storm of razor-sharp shards that flew around her like a swarm of deadly flies, ripping at her aura.

Cinder charged once more, punching Emerald in the face, kicking her in the gut as she wrenched her bladed pistols aside, throwing her by the arms across the tunnel and into the dirt wall before assailing her with shards of glass once more; Cinder pursued her, threw her down and stood over her as Midnight reformed into a bow in her hands.

She drew back the string.

BANG!

Cinder staggered backwards as her aura broke. Emerald’s eyes seemed to grow a little brighter as she rose to her feet, a scowl darkening her features.

She lashed Cinder across the face with one of her pistols, knocking Cinder to the ground and drawing blood from her cheek. It hurt. It hurt more than Cinder would have expected. It had been a long time since her aura shattered. So long that she couldn’t actually remember the last time.

Emerald took aim at her down the barrel.

Not here. Not like this.

“Wait,” Grogar’s voice echoed out of the dark.

Emerald’s face twitched. “My lord?”

“You didn’t tell me she was so spirited,” Grogar said. “Or so capable. Bring her to me, that she may be forged anew.” He chuckled darkly in Cinder’s ear. “You belong to me now.”

The company floated down the hole, surrounded by a green bubble of Sunset’s magic.

Teleportation would have been slightly easier from Sunset’s personal perspective, but it had the difficulty first that Sunset couldn’t see the bottom of the hole that had swallowed up Ruby and Cinder, so judging where to actually teleport too would have been a little difficult, and secondly that – since it was likely, judging by the fact that they couldn’t see the bottom of the hole, that it was deeper than their limited supply of rope – there would have been no way that anyone else could get down after her.

She didn’t even have to look at Taiyang to know that there was no way that was going to fly with him.

It wouldn’t have flown with her either if the positions had been reversed.

So she had used a combination of a shield, telekinesis, anti-gravity and pegasus control of wind to pick the entire party up in shield bubble, drift said bubble over the hole and then gently descend them downwards until they reached the ground.

It was not the easiest thing that she had ever done with magic, and if she wanted to get all of them – plus Cinder and Ruby – out of the hole again afterwards, she would need to be considered and sparing with how she used magic between now and then.

But for now, they were down here, and finding their friends was more important than worrying about the exit at the end of the line.

The shield bubbled popped as it touched the ground, and the company dropped the last foot to plant their feet upon the dirt at the bottom of this tunnel.

The dirt or the metal armour of all the dead who littered the bottom, and whose corpses were illuminated by the light coming from those purple stalactites sprouting from the earthen walls.

If it was armour. Sunset didn’t know who would fashion their armour to make it look as though they were dying an agonising death.

It might just as likely be that they were the remains of people who had died an agonising death. True, Sunset didn’t know of any people who were between ten and twenty feet tall and made of metal, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The world was full of wonders, after all, and who was she to say that she had seen them all?

She just hoped that, whatever these things were, they were all dead and there weren’t more of them alive and roaming around.

Since when do we ever get that lucky?

Taiyang cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ruby? Ruby, can you hear me?”

There was no answer but the echoing of Taiyang’s voice, bouncing off the walls and issuing forth into the dark.

Cardin rested his mace upon his shoulder. “Why would they wander off? Why not stay here, and wait to be found?”

“I don’t know for sure, but maybe that thing over there had something to do with it?” Torchwick said, pointing with his cane towards the dead ophiotaurus lying half-hidden in the darkness. Sunset hadn’t spotted it until now.

She walked quickly towards it, leaping over the armour or the body, whichever you wanted to call it, to reach the fallen creature. She knelt down beside it: it had been stabbed multiple times then sliced into pieces. Even if you allowed for the fact that it might have had aura in Remnant, it was still surprising that it had taken so much killing.

More to the point, what is an ophiotaurus doing in Remnant?

“What is it?” Taiyang asked.

“Something that isn’t where it ought to be,” Sunset murmured. She shivered, and not from the cold. She had dreamed of this, when she had walked with Amber to the coast: all Equestria’s monsters, here in Remnant, gathered around a creature that was half-man, half-goat. And now it seemed to be coming true.

Stay safe, both of you.

Bon Bon prodded one of the fallen metal bodies with the toe of her armoured boot. It clanked, if only softly. “And what do you suppose these things are?”

“I don’t know, but I think Twilight would love to see it,” Lyra said.

“Maybe, but I doubt that she’d actually like to be here,” said Bon Bon.

“None of them would want her to be here,” Lyra said. “I don’t really want to be here myself.”

“So…nobody knows what they are?” Jack asked, looking at the metallic creatures all around them. “Or, you know, whether there are any more of them.”

“The old gods,” Sami muttered.

“Will you stop with that stuff?” Jack demanded. “It’s not helping.”

“I know that!” Sami snapped. “But I was always told that there was something in this valley and now look at all this! Maybe there really were gods in this valley after all, just like they always said.”

“Gods?” the voice issued from out of the darkness, seeming to come from all around them; a hoarse and aged voice, deep and rasping in equal measure, not echoing precisely but seeming to hang in the air after it had spoken. “No, child, those are not gods. Those are the remains of fools who strove against a god. In the emptiness above the sky they fought, and through fire and darkness they fell to the world that once was like…shooting stars. A great battle it was, fought long ago, in which the sky burned and the darkness turned to light. Long, long ago, before ever a true god came to this valley.”

“Let me guess, you?” Sunset growled.

“Who are you?” Taiyang demanded, shouting at the empty air. “What have you done with Ruby?”

In response came not the deep, hoarse voice, but rather a low, growling, gurgling sound, accompanied by footsteps coming towards them.

“That…that doesn’t sound like Ruby,” Lyra said.

Nor was it Ruby that stepped out of the shadow. It was a young girl, but younger than Ruby, maybe thirteen, although she was tall for her age. She was also a reindeer faunus, with the fading marks of tattoos inked onto her skin…and the far more obvious mark of a slit throat, sliced open from side to side. Sunset could still see where the blood had dried on the wound. There were metal…things growing out of her body, extraneous parts sprouting from out of her skin: a line of spikes emerging from her back like the spines of a fish’s fin.

Her eyes were vacant, but at the same time burned with a mingled light of dark purple and burning gold.

“It can’t be,” Sami said as she pushed past Cardin to stand in front of this other girl. “Sunna?”

Sunna stared at Sami, and a low growl rose from her throat.

“How?” Sami said, her voice softer than Sunset had ever heard it before. “How is this possible? I saw…what’s going on?”

Sunna was still, and even for a moment silent. Then she let out a high-pitched keening shriek and launched herself at Sami, the dead girl bearing the living one to the ground and pressing her hands down upon Sami’s head.

“Sunna…what are you doing?” Sami gasped, as Sunna appeared to be trying to squeeze her head like a grape. “It’s me…it’s your sister.”

Taiyang was the first to react, grabbing Sunna and bodily wrenching her off of Sami. Sunna glared at him, and backhanded him hard enough to send him flying across the earthen chamber and into the dirt wall.

As Sunna dropped to the floor, landing on her feet like a cat, Torchwick shot her in the chest with his Melodic Cudgel. The blast knocked her backwards and onto her back, sending her skidding across the ground, but in a moment she simply backflipped back onto her feet and began to charge once again at a frozen and astonished Sami.

Sunset stepped between them, her black blade flying.

With her first stroke she cut off Sunna’s right arm.

With her second she drove it into the girl’s belly.

Sunna growled as she began to drag herself up the blade towards Sunset.

“By the gods,” Bon Bon whispered.

“Sunna,” Sami moaned. “What are you doing?”

More to the point, when are you going to stop doing it?

She shoved the revenant off her sword, and with her third stroke Sunset took off her head and at that she dropped, motionless, to the ground.

Sunset’s hands trembled as she stared down at the fallen trunk in front of her.

“No!” Sami yelled. “That was-“

“Not your sister,” Sunset said. “Not any more.” She glanced back at her. “I’m sorry.”

Sami didn’t reply, but in her eyes there was more resentment to be seen than understanding.

“At least now we know why Ruby and Cinder didn’t stick around,” Cardin said.

“Yeah, because of the monsters and the zombies,” Torchwick said. He shook his head. “You know, I really miss the days when I used to knock over betting shops.”

Taiyang picked himself up off the ground. “How do we find Ruby down here?”

Sunset considered it for a moment. She slung her sword back over her shoulder. “Torchwick, use your cane to draw a line in the ground as we go. We’ll follow it back when we find the others.”

The voice from out of the darkness laughed, a deep and throaty laugh, rich with contempt. “You disappoint me, Sunset Shimmer, if you think that so simple a childish trick will avail you. If it was so easy to escape this place why would I remain here, entombed in darkness, awaiting the coming of one such as you?”

“What is he talking about?” Cardin asked.

“He’s talking bull, he’s playing headgames to frighten us,” Sami spat.

“I’m not so sure,” Sunset said, as she reached out her sense of the world magical, extending her powers out all around her as she searched for any trace of magic in the vicinity. There it was, right in front of her! Right in front of her and extending out, like a dome, engulfing the underground. They stood upon the very edge of it, a magical barrier, a prison made to hold that which dwelt within.

“Meadowbrook’s Maze of Mirrors,” Sunset murmured.

“Meadow-who’s what?” Cardin said.

“It’s a magic spell,” Sunset explained. “We’re standing on the edge of it now; if we go into the tunnels we will be ensnared within it just as the being talking to us now is ensnared...just as Ruby and Cinder are ensnared.”

“Ensnared,” Taiyang gasped. “You mean-”

“They can’t find their way out, and if we go in there neither will we,” Sunset said solemnly. “Unless…” Why am I always faced with this same choice over and over and over again? Can I get no peace? Is there no respite? Must I repeat this moment of my life ad infinitum until I’m old and grey and always with my friends lives upon the line?

There’s no way the gods have abandoned Remnant; they’re still around and they hate me personally.

Which wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t always using those I care for the most as the instruments of my torment.

“Unless?” Taiyang demanded.

“Unless someone like Sunset Shimmer, an Equestrian mage, should break the spell,” the voice from out of the shadows declared. “Only then will you be able to rescue your young friend, who has already passed so deeply into the net.”

Taiyang growled. “You son of a-”

“Do not misdirect your anger,” cautioned the ancient voice. “It was not I who cast this spell. Rather, the spell was cast aeons ago to keep me here, that it ensnares those who wander too deeply into my domain is a side-effect but, to be sure, a welcome one.

“Long have I waited in this valley, lurking beneath the ground, tending to my forge, breeding my creatures, sending the meanest of my servants out to collect the tribute left to me; waiting, hoping, longing for the day when one would come with the power to set me free.

“And now, at last, fate has provided. Now you are come to me, Sunset Shimmer, mage of Equestria, and now your friend has wandered into my domain: the domain of Grogar.”

“Something you arranged, I’m sure,” Sunset growled, because if she focussed on the fact that she was upset then she didn’t have to think too hard about the fact that this was Grogar, the Father of Monsters who had terrorised Equestria ere Celestia and Luna were known in those lands. No wonder nothing had been seen or heard of him since his defeat at the hands of Gusty the Great: she’d send him here just like Equestria seemed to have everyone else they wanted rid of.

Ozpin has every right to be upset with us, doesn’t he?

“She yet lives,” the voice said. “Though for how much longer I really cannot say. Break the spell, Sunset Shimmer; rescue your friend, and release me from my confinement.”

Sunset grimaced. She ground her teeth. She wanted to yell and scream and shout. Again!? Again and again and again? Why this every single time?

“Sunset,” Taiyang said. “Can you do it?”

“Yes,” Sunset said.

“That doesn’t mean that she should,” Cardin said.

Taiyang rounded on him. “What are you saying? Ruby’s down here somewhere!”

“And this thing, whatever it is, was sealed away for a reason,” Cardin said. “Maybe we should take a minute to-“

“Ruby might not have time for us to stand around thinking it over!” Taiyang yelled.

“That doesn’t mean that we should just take the risk blindly-“

“Cardin,” Sunset snapped. “Ruby and Cinder are both down here and if I...if I...if I…” No. No, she couldn’t just break the spell from where she was right here, she couldn’t just let Grogar out to wander free and wreak the same evil on Remnant that he had wrought upon Equestria.

But she didn’t have to.

I may not be Gusty the Great, but then it’s not as if I have to be. She already did the hardest part, right? If the stories are in any way accurate then she already stripped him of most of his power. And I should be able to deal with what’s left.

My huntress way: no sacrifices, save the life in front of me. Save Ruby and Cinder.

And defeat Grogar into the bargain.

I remember when the idea would have thrilled me. To do what only a legend of pre-history had done before would have seemed to her so grand, not too long ago. Now...now she couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for the prospect, but in a strange way she regretted the fact, as though she was burnt out by eighteen.

Save my friends first, then worry about my lack of enthusiasm.

“Everyone, stay here,” she said. “I’m going in, I’m going to get Ruby and Cinder, we’re going to defeat Grogar and then once that is done, once it is safe, I’m going to bring them back here and we can go.”

Cardin frowned. “Can you do it? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Sunset lied. It wasn’t a huge lie, she was about ninety percent sure. Eighty percent as a floor. But she wasn’t going to tell him or anyone else that in case it made him reluctant to let her get on with it.

“And if you don’t come back?” Bon Bon said. “If you can’t back up all your tough talk then what about us? How are we supposed to get out without you?”

Sunset exhaled through her nostrils like a bull in the field. “I’m not leaving Ruby to die, or Cinder either.”

“It’s two lives-”

“You sided with Amber,” Sunset snarled, her voice cold with fury. “You stood by while Professor Ozpin was murdered, you would have killed Pyrrha if you could, I’ll take no lectures from you on morality!” She turned her attention away from Bon Bon, addressing all of them. “I’m doing this,” she declared, her voice brooking no further argument. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure?” Taiyang demanded. “Are you sure that you can win?”

“Sir,” Sunset said solemnly. “I know that I’m not Ruby’s sister; I know that I’m not her best friend, or even a particularly good friend; I know that I was a terrible partner and I might not even have been a particularly good team leader but I promise you this: I will always watch out for Ruby, no matter what.”

Taiyang looked into her eyes. “I believe you,” he said. “But I’m still coming with you.”

Sunset didn’t try to dissuade. “Glad to have you, sir.”

“Straight ahead?” Taiyang asked.

Sunset turned to face that way. “Straight ahead,” she agreed.

And together, they plunged into the magical embrace of the Maze of Mirrors.

Ruby threw a punch at the armoured giant in front of her.

It didn’t do very much. The giant – dressed like a knight out of some old storybook, with a red glow coming from within the suit of armour – didn’t even seem to feel it.

Ruby backed away a step. She had always thought it was kind of ridiculous when Yang had tried to insist that she learn how to fight without Crescent Rose.

It didn’t seem quite so ridiculous at this point.

She had lost Cinder some time ago, and in the dark and with all of these tunnels looking pretty much the same, she had gotten lost, turned around, and finally cornered and hemmed in by all of the things that were down here.

And at this point she was pretty sure that she had hardly any aura left at all.

She backed another step. The creatures of the underground closed in around her, hissing and snarling and leering as they bared their fangs.

There was no way out.

Yang, wherever you are, are you with Mom?

I guess I’ll find out soon, huh.

The armoured giant picked her up in one ironclad fist, slamming her into the wall as the monsters cheered and hissed triumphantly. Ruby groaned in pain as she felt her aura break, the crimson ripples running up and down her body.

The giant slammed her into the earthen wall again, making Ruby cry out in pain as her vision began to blur.

“Yang,” she whispered, as the giant slammed her into the ground this time, and Ruby did not cry out in spite of the pain because she began to slip into unconsciousness. Her vision darkened, her eyes began to close as the creatures closed in.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” the angry cry came from a distinctive voice, followed by a distinctive shot that made the armoured giant recoil with a bellow of pain.

“Yang?”

The last thing Ruby saw before the darkness claimed her was a figure wearing a bleached shell mask like some kind of grimm step between her and anger.

Her hair was burning gold.

Yang burned with fury as she set upon them. She didn’t know what they were, she didn’t know where they had come from, she didn’t know anything about them and she didn’t care; all she cared about was that they were a danger to Ruby, and that made them her enemies.

And so, her whole body ablaze with righteous wrath, she dove into their midst. It didn’t matter how big their teeth were, it didn’t matter what kind of weird powers they had, it didn’t even matter that some of them looked like walking corpses because right now she was more than just a person, more than just a huntress, more than Yang Xiao-Long; right now she was a force of nature itself, fury incarnate, and she tore amongst these monsters like a wolf amongst the flock. And there was no shepherd nor sheepdog to stand in her way.

Ember Celica barked again and again and again as Yang drove her fists into her enemies, her arms working like pistons or piledrivers, forward and back, forward and back, bringing fire and vengeance with every blow she struck. She blew a hole in the giant’s chest and a larger one out its back to lay it low, she ground skeletal bones into powder fit for Mistralian medicine, she made the monsters flee in terror of her coming and killed all those who did not run fast enough.

But run they did, for all those monsters had met in Yang Xiao-Long a greater monster than themselves by far.

In the dark she had become the nightmares’ nightmare, and they ran from her, fighting with one another to escape, crushing one another in the narrow confines of the earthen tunnels, the larger creatures trampling the little ones under foot.

Until at last she stood alone, surrounded by the bodies of all the monsters she had slain.

Alone with her mother…and Ruby.

Slowly, tentatively, Yang took off her mask. Ruby was unconscious, and so couldn’t see her face; she might not have taken the mask off if it had been any other way.

Mind you, the mask didn’t cover her luxurious mane of hair, so it might not have made any difference either way.

She held the bone mask tucked underneath one arm, and put it down beside her as she knelt at Ruby’s side, looking down at her sleeping little sister.

Gently, Yang reached out and brushed some of the hair out of Ruby’s forehead.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?”

Raven stood a few feet away, having watched Yang fight but not participated in the fighting – save to drive her sword into the head of a furry little creature who had turned its attention towards her. She watched Yang with her arms folded, her own mask hanging from her belt. “I think so; it doesn’t look as though there was any permanent damage.”

Yang closed her eyes. “Thank you, for watching out for them.” At her request, Raven had kept an eye on Dad, and in keeping an eye on Dad had kept an eye on Ruby too. Yang didn’t know much about what was going on with the two of them – she didn’t know where they were, or why they were here – but when she had agreed to stop trying to escape, she had extracted a promise from the woman who had birthed her: that she would watch over Dad and Ruby and, if it ever looked as though one of them was in mortal danger, then she would bring Yang to their aid.

Raven had agreed, with one modification: she could only save each of them once. Yang hoped it would be enough.

Raven nodded. “I don’t think I could look Summer in the eye if I did any less.” She paused. “You could bring her with you, if you wish.”

Yang looked up at her. “You mean…take her back?”

Raven shrugged. “She’s not in any position to object at the moment.” She gestured towards the portal, the tear in the fabric of space rippling crimson nearby. “Pick her up and carry her away. To safety.”

“Is that what you want?”

“She’s your sister,” Raven said. “The choice is yours.”

“Ruby?” a voice, Sunset’s voice, echoed down the corridor. “RUBY?”

“We need to go,” Raven said. “Is she coming?”

Yang shook her head, in spite of the temptation to do exactly as Raven had said: pick Ruby up in her arms and carry her away with her, some place where Yang could keep her safe from harm. “No,” she said. “No, I couldn’t do that to Dad. Or Ruby.”

“You speak as though saving her life would be a cruelty to her.”

It was for me, Yang thought. “She’d wither inside a cage,” she whispered. She bent down, and kissed her little sister gently on the forehead. “I love you.”

“It’s time,” Raven said.

Yang nodded as she got to her feet, picking up her helmet and putting it on in a swift, fluid motion. She knew how important it was to get out before they were found. As much as it hurt, not to be able to talk to Ruby, not to be able to see Dad again, if he found her like this…she couldn’t see a way that this didn’t end with one of her parents killing the other, and – no offence, Dad – her money was on Raven.

She took one last look at Ruby, feeling a little reassured to know that she wouldn’t be leaving her alone for long.

I don’t know what road you’re on, Ruby; but I wish you luck, wherever it takes you.

She followed Raven into the portal, which closed behind them as though it had never been at all.

Sunset ran forward, almost stumbling over the body of a cockatrice that lay in her path. In fact, the ground ahead of her was strewn with monsters, with Ruby lying in the midst of all of them.

Sunset’s heart rose into her throat, her stomach chilled, but as she got closer, leaping over the bodies of those that Ruby had despatched – she’d really done a number on them, hadn’t she? – she saw that Ruby was not, as she had feared, dead; but only sleeping, or unconscious.

She must have slain all her enemies before passing out from the effort.

Atta girl.

“Ruby!” Taiyang cried, rushing up after Sunset. “Is she okay?”

Sunset cradled Ruby in her arms for a moment, lifting her up and holding her close, resting her head against Sunset’s breast. “She’s out of it,” she said. “But I think she’s okay. But no sign of Cinder. Cinder?”

“Thank God,” Taiyang said, as he came to a halt in front of his daughter. He held out his arms, and Sunset passed Ruby to him, watching for a moment as he embraced her. “Ruby? Ruby, can you hear me?”

“…Yang,” Ruby murmured.

Sunset frowned. “Sorry, Ruby,” she whispered, reaching out of brush a few rogue strands of Ruby’s fringe out of her forehead. “You’re stuck with me instead.”

Taiyang continued to cradle his sole surviving daughter - his last remaining family, unless he had living parents stashed away somewhere that Ruby never talked about - in his arms, but as he held he looked about the chamber and all the slain monsters lying around the unconscious huntress. “These...there are gunshot wounds, there’s no way that Ruby could have done this; and I haven’t seen Cinder carrying a gun.”

Now that he mentioned it...leaving aside the fact that Ruby had never previously shown a propensity for ripping her enemies apart with her bare hands, some of these creatures did have what - on being forced to look at them - Sunset could not deny were gunshot wounds. They weren’t even particularly subtle gunshot wounds, some of them had gaping holes in their chests; it was only her focus on Ruby that had allowed Sunset to miss it the first time.

Another huntsman, one who got trapped down here some time before we arrived and has been fighting the inhabitants of the underworld down here ever since?

If that’s the case then why save Ruby and then vanish before we arrived?

It was a mystery, but one that could wait for a more leisurely moment to give it the consideration it deserved. For now, they had to find Cinder, defeat Grogar, and get out of here.

“Can you carry your daughter?” Sunset asked.

“Of course,” Taiyang said, picking her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. “Where do we go now?”

Sunset took a deep breath, and as she turned away from him she closed her eyes and thought about Cinder; she conjured her likeness to the forefront of her mind, she thought about the way she smelled, the way they made her feel being near them, and as she thought of all that she cast Starswirl’s Spell of Seeking. When she opened her eyes a green light leapt from her hand to point down the left-hand tunnel.

“This way,” she said, and led the way, trusting Taiyang to follow behind her.

Hold on, Cinder; just hold on.

Grogar was a faunus, or at least he looked a little like one; he was one of the more bestial-looking faunuses that Cinder had ever encountered: he had the body of a man but the legs of a goat, grey-furred and ending in a pair of cloven hooves; from his grey, curly hair emerged a pair of proud horns, long and curved like the tallest of mountain goats. His eyes were red, and glowered down at her from out of an aged face, lined and wrinkled and ancient. He sat atop a throne of bones and he watched as Emerald dragged Cinder, weakened without her aura – which had yet to return – through the darkness towards him.

The cavern into which she was brought was no mere earth, as so much of the labyrinth was, but stone, as if they had passed from beneath the valley to beneath the mountain that overlooked it. Perhaps they had, Cinder had lost all sense of direction down here.

“Cinder Fall, my lord.” Emerald threw her down at Grogar’s feet. Cinder grunted and winced, but she managed to get to her feet; she was still Cinder Fall, after all, and she had no intention of dying on her knees. She had yet more pride than that, she hoped.

“So,” Grogar croaked as he stared at her. “You are Cinder Fall.”

“Tell me something, my lord,” Cinder said. “Have you enslaved Emerald’s will, or did she always hate me and simply fear to show it until now?”

“Emerald is my faithful servant,” Grogar said.

So it is control then. “I see, my lord,” Cinder said. “Then I will see you pay for it.”

Emerald struck her on the back of the head, hard enough to force Cinder to her knees with a grunt of pain.

“As if you have any right to talk,” Emerald spat. “After what you did to me.”

Control, but maybe with more than a little of her subconscious as well.

“Emerald tells me that you were great, once,” Grogar said. “Before you were weakened by…” he spat the word as though it were evil. “Friendship.”

“That depends on how you define great,” Cinder said. “If I was great, then I was terrible at the same time.”

“And now you are nothing.”

Cinder forced herself back onto her feet and upright. “I have never been nothing in my life,” she said. “Many have tried and all have failed, and you will be no different.”

Grogar laughed. “I? Make you nothing? No, Cinder Fall, you misunderstand my purposes. I will make you great once more, with the help of my Forge of Abominations.”

From the darkness at the back of the cavern a light began to shine, a purple light like the stalactites that had grown out of the earth amidst the fallen giants. But it was no rock or crystal shard giving off this light, rather it was an object that looked like a hollow anvil, or since it was hollow something that was merely designed to look like an anvil but which was in fact a container for the purple liquid – or was it energy? It was hard to be sure – which swirled inside of it, moving back and forth and, as it did so, revealing that it was actually mingled with the same golden light which were mingled in Emerald’s eyes.

“I found the forge amidst the ruins of a great battle,” Grogar explained. “Dormant, but pulsing with energy; and, with the help of a little of my own dark magic, brought to life.”

As Cinder watched, the anvil changed, transforming before her eyes as parts shifted and moved from where they were, the anvil resolving into a spidery form, which skittered across the stone floor on eight spindly metallic legs towards the throne of bones…and her.

“What news, Lord Grogar,” the spider said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep for such a small creature. “Was your plan successful?”

“Not yet, but it will be,” Grogar said. “She has entered the maze to find her friends, if she wishes to leave it she will have no choice but to break the spell. And when she does we will at last be free to leave this place, and make kingdoms tremble as I did of old.”

Cinder could barely keep the smirk of her face. Don’t underestimate Sunset, my lord.

“And her? Will she be my vessel, to bear my anti-spark?”

“No,” Grogar said. “She is not worthy of that. But she is fit to be re-forged, and she will go forth with us, and serve us now that the time of revenge is at hand.”

Now Cinder did allow the smirk to appear and even to run riot across her face. “I think you’ll both find the world outside this valley isn’t as helpless as you might think.”

“I am aware of what the outside world is,” Grogar said, and Cinder guessed that Emerald was not the first he had brought back with sufficient faculties to tell him news of the wide world and its doings. “But, once the Forge finds a suitable vessel to bear its spark-“

“Then we shall become a titan mightier than anything that walks upon this Remnant of a fallen world,” the Forge declared. “Nothing shall stand in our way.”

“That,” Sunset said. “Is not going to happen.”

Sunset strode into the cavern, a pair of crimson wings as red as blood blossoming on either side of her, her eyes burning like scarlet fire. A golden ring glimmered upon her finger; Cinder could not recall seeing it before.

Emerald turned towards her, reaching for her guns. Sunset raised one hand and a beam of crimson energy struck Emerald squarely in the chest, blasting her backwards into the wall of the cavern with such a forceful impact that the stone of the roof and wall alike were completely dislodged, burying Emerald beneath a pile of rock.

Sunset gestured towards Cinder, who was yanked off her feet and pulled by an invisible hand into Sunset’s arms. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

“No,” Cinder said. “My aura broke, but that’s all.”

“Thank Celestia,” Sunset said. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again there was wrath burning in them. “Lord Grogar,” she declared. “I had not looked to find you here. Truly, we of Equestria have used this world poorly in treating it thus as a dumping ground for all our evils.”

Grogar chuckled. “Perhaps. And yet you would show scant more regard for this place by breaking the spell that prevents me from falling upon it with all my wrath.”

Sunset grinned. “I have done no such thing, my lord; do you really believe that I intend to let you leave this place?”

“How can you not?” Grogar replied. “Unless you intend to remain here yourself, and your friends with you, to keep me company in my long imprisonment.”

“My friends and I will all be leaving this place,” Sunset declared, as Cinder - glancing behind her - noticed Ruby’s father lurking near the entrance to the stony cavern, shielding a very still - probably unconscious, given that if she were dead Sunset would be displaying a lot less emotional mastery than she was now - Ruby with his body. Sunset continued, “But you, Lord Grogar, will not be leaving...alive.”

Grogar rose ponderously from his throne. “What makes you think that you can threaten me, girl? I am Grogar, first Emperor of Equestria and Father of Monsters!”

“And yet where are your monsters now?” Sunset asked. “Dead, or fled in terror. Is this the army with which you would conquer Remnant?” she laughed, and to Cinder it seemed an unusually cruel laugh. “You wouldn’t last a minute outside of this valley.”

“Such power,” the Forge said, its tone awed and enraptured in equal measure. “This…this is a vessel worthy of my greatness. This is one fit to receive the anti-spark! Let the Blood of Unicron flow through her veins and let-“

Sunset hit it with a magical blast, which made it jump through the air before landing upside down, its legs flailing uselessly in the air. It righted itself by changing its form, so that its legs were once more where they were needed to get it moving.

“You talk too much,” Sunset said.

Grogar growled with anger, and twin streams of golden lightning erupted from his horns towards Sunset.

“Stay behind me,” Sunset said, practically flinging Cinder behind her as she drew her sword, catching the lightning upon her black blade. It rippled and danced in front of her face but, as Cinder watched, she saw none of it actually touch Sunset’s face much though the snarling, hissing, spitting lightning reached for her.

“Your powers have grown weak, my lord,” Sunset said. “It is true then, that when Gusty the Great defeated you she stripped you of most of your power.”

Grogar hissed. “Insolent pup! I am the Father of Monsters!”

“And I am a huntress,” Sunset said. “Who will protect both her friends and the world.” She kept one hand upon the hilt of her sword, but with the other she fired a beam of magic at Grogar that drove him backwards, through his throne which shattered as he struck it, and pinned him against the crumbling wall, burning him as he cried out in pain and anguish.

Cinder could not see Sunset’s expression, but as she watched her friend she found that she could imagine the look that she was wearing: she had only to think of the expression that she herself had worn when she had burned down the house of her stepmother and listened to the cries of those trapped within.

The ceiling of the cavern began to rumble. Dust began to trickle down as the stones cracked and crumbled up above.

The Forge skittered backwards and forwards, left and right. “What…what are you doing?”

“Ensuring that you will not leave this place,” Sunset, as the ceiling crumbled and an avalanche of stone descended, burying the Forge and the screaming Grogar beneath it.

The stone continued to descend, and earth too, dust filling in the gaps left by the great chunks of stone, until directly before Sunset there was nothing but a wall of rock and dirt and debris.

Taiyang got up, still holding Ruby; she was definitely sleeping, Cinder concluded, and felt a twinge of envy for all that she knew that Ruby had probably gone through a rough time of it and had her rest enforced upon her by some foe.

I couldn’t protect her, in the end.

Emerald was telling the truth: without the power of the Fall Maiden I am not good for much.

And yet… She glanced at Sunset. The fact that, in spite of the fact that the loss of her magic had in a single bound caused her to descend from the level of a demi-god to that of a somewhat average huntress, Sunset nevertheless valued her company, her wit, her counsel and what martial skill remained to her would have given Cinder comfort. But now looking at Sunset caused her only a different sort of disquiet.

“Is it done?” Taiyang asked.

“Yes,” Sunset said, in a voice that was deeper than normal and touched with lordliness, reminding Cinder a little of Salem and the air of natural authority with which she spoke and bore herself, as one born and bred and destined to command and to have commands executed by those beneath her. It was a manner that Cinder had tried to emulate, but to hear that same tone coming out of Sunset’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. “Yes, it is done.” She clapped her hands together as a red glow surrounded them. “It is done and the spell is broken. We are free and I shall...no. That…” Sunset trailed off. She stared down at the ring upon her finger. “And that…” Her hand trembled, both hands in fact, and although she reached out for the ring she did so with a degree of reluctance, as though she were not really willing to take it off. “That is…” She snatched the ring from off her finger and stuffed it into the pocket of her jack. “That’s enough,” she said, her body sagging with a sudden weariness. She looked at Cinder. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I can already feel my aura starting to regenerate,” Cinder said. “What about you?”

“Me?” Sunset said. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cinder said softly, advancing a step towards her as she spoke. Sunset’s eyes, she saw, had returned to their natural green. That reassured her, but at the same time it reinforced her sense of wrongness from a moment ago. “Since when was your magic red? Or your eyes, for that matter?”

“Not here,” Sunset said softly, glancing towards Taiyang. “Not now.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. Something you want to keep to yourself? Why, unless it’s because you know that you’re doing something that others would look upon unfavourably?

And why would they do that unless it was an ill thing?

“Then when?” she asked.

“Later,” Sunset assured her.

“When?” Cinder pressed.

“Not here,” Sunset replied. “Not...now. You’re safe, Ruby’s safe, an evil was defeated and no more will stalk this valley. Isn’t that enough for now?”

Cinder took a deep breath. “As you say,” she said. “Enough for now.” Perhaps it was weak of her, to yield the ground so; perhaps she should have pressed harder; but it was only by the sufferance of Sunset Shimmer that she had any place in this company and without Sunset...without Sunset she would be truly nothing.

So she could not press too hard. She dared not. But as Sunset walked towards Taiyang and Ruby, Cinder hung back, watching her.

What was that, Sunset? What are you doing to yourself?

Sunset would do anything - almost anything at all - to help those she cared about; it was perhaps her most endearing and inspiring quality; unfortunately it was also her most worrying quality, as she would not necessarily stop to ask herself if what she was doing was wise.

But that was a concern for another day; for today, as Sunset had said, they could be satisfied with the way things had turned.

May it always be so.

“Sunset, can we talk?”

Sunset turned away from watching the sun rise above the horizon. They had only just returned from underground and, in view of the fact that they had spent a good portion of the night tearing through tunnels when they should be resting, they had decided to rest today and push through the Goat’s Cleft tomorrow. After all, it wasn’t as though there was anything to trouble them in the valley with Grogar entombed.

And now Ruby - who unlike the rest of them had already slept awhile, after a fashion, wanted to talk to her.

“Hey, Ruby,” Sunset said, a smile upon her face. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Ruby said. “In fact…I feel a lot better. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Can we sit?”

“Sure,” Sunset said, squatting down in the grass while Ruby sat down in front of her.

“I can’t…I can’t talk to Dad about this,” Ruby said. “But…Sunset, I didn’t kill all of those monsters down there in the tunnel. They knocked me out.”

Sunset nodded. “Your Dad thought as much when he pointed out the gunshot wounds. So who did kill them all? We didn’t see anyone else down there, and no one sought us out. Did you get a look at your rescuer?”

“That’s the thing,” Ruby said. She leaned forward. “I think it was Yang. In fact I’m sure it was her. Yang saved me.”

Sunset blinked. “Ruby…Yang-“

“I know that’s what we all thought but what if she wasn’t,” Ruby said. “After all, it’s not like we ever found a body. And I saw somebody with hair just like Yang’s, burning just like Yang’s-“

“Did she say anything to you?”

“I, uh,” Ruby scratched the back of her head. “I kind of fell unconscious before she got the chance.”

Sunset sighed sympathetically. “Ruby-“

“I know,” Ruby said. “But I…I just know it was her, Sunset. I know, I feel it, I…I’m sure.”

“Are you?” Sunset said. “Are you really sure, or do you just want it to be true?”

Ruby squirmed. “I…maybe the second one,” she admitted. “But is that so bad? Cinder…Cinder said that I would have to fill up the hole she left with…with something else. And if I choose to fill that hole up with hope that she’s going to come back then is that such a bad thing?”

“Maybe,” Sunset said. “I know that it doesn’t sound like it, but what if your hope is dashed then it will just end up hurting you more. I…I suppose it’s not impossible, but…I don’t see why Yang would let you think she was dead if she wasn’t.”

“I don’t know that either,” Ruby said. “But I’m sure that she has a good reason. It is possible, isn’t it?”

“Like I said,” Sunset replied. “It’s not impossible. Perhaps the grimm carried her away to kill her later but she got away from them before they could, perhaps she got swallowed whole but survived and later blasted her way out of the belly of the beast. Perhaps…it’s not impossible. I don’t know how likely any of it is but it could happen. I’m not sure how she’d get here to save you from monsters, though.”

“I don’t know about that part either,” Ruby said. “But…she’s out there, Sunset, I know it.”

“You hope it,” Sunset corrected.

“Yeah, I hope it,” Ruby said. “But isn’t hope enough?”

Sunset chuckled. “Hope is a good eighty percent of what we’ve got on our side right now, so it’d better be.”

Ruby smiled. “We’ve made it this far, right? And we’re going to make it the rest of the way too. I hope.”

Sunset nodded. “I hope so too.”

And so, with hope, they faced a new day and a new phase of their journey.

In the darkness of Grogar’s cavern, the stones lay heavy, still and silent.

Until, unseen by any mortal eyes, they began to stir. A rustling sound could have been heard had there been any ears to hear it. The stones could have been seen to shift had there been any eyes to see it. And had anyone been left in what remained of the cavernous chamber to observe they would have seen the stones move so much that the Forge, still in its arachnid form - but with the addition of an armoured carapace to protect the Blood of Unicron that flowed within - emerged out of the rubble and into the air.

“Such a pity,” the Forge observed. “She would have made a truly excellent vessel. Her power combined with my anti-spark...such a pity.”

Emerald was the next to emerge, widening the hole that the Forge had made until it was large enough for her to scramble through, even with all of her extraneous metal parts making it that much harder. Still, she managed to crawl out of the rock and rubble, and then turned to haul out the battered, burned and bruised body of Grogar.

“My lord,” she said. “You’re wounded.”

“Although my strength is impaired, my will remains indomitable,” Grogar said, though the groaning in his words proved that his strength was impaired, beyond doubt. “I, too, regret the loss of Sunset Shimmer as a vessel, just as I regret that she is our enemy...and yet, in the end, she has served her first and most important purpose: she has released us from the confines of this place.” Grogar reached up, and stroked Emerald’s face. “Emerald...you must serve as our strength, until a suitable vessel to be sparked is found. You must protect me, and bear the Forge upon the road. It may be that we will find another on the way to be reforged, but you...you are the one upon whom we must rely.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Emerald said, bowing her head. “I won’t let you down.”

“No,” Grogar said “I have no doubt of that.”

“Where shall we go, my lord?”

“Eastwards,” Forge said. “We must go east, across the sea.”

“Across the sea?” Emerald repeated. “Why?”

The Forge was silent for a moment. “I sense that is where we must be. I believe that you mortals might call it...premonition.”

Author's Note

Parts of this chapter may feel a little out of left field, but they’re setting up for something quite cool to be announced in the not too distant future.

This chapter marks a breaking point, as the next chapter will see the focus shift to Atlas for a little while to see how the various ensemble darkhorses (and Weiss) are faring there.

Historic Moment

Historic Moment

Even after several months in Atlas, Blake still didn’t entirely understand why Atlas – or at least the parts of it that she was becoming most familiar with – seemed to like its spaces large but largely bare. Weiss had suggested that the very fact of being able to waste so much space was, in itself, a sign of luxury. That was an alien way of thinking to Blake, having grown up between cramped White Fang encampments – and that had been true even when her parents had been running the movement – and the almost-as-overcrowded confines of Kuo Kuana, but she supposed that Weiss would know.

It still felt strange to her to have so much room you were not doing anything with. It felt a little like denying yourself luxury – the luxury of all the things you might put in or do with that space – in order to flaunt your luxury.

Still, in this particular case it was probably a good thing that the room was large and bare and mostly empty: it left a lot of room for visitors and the press.

Blake, flanked by Twilight and Weiss, stood in one corner of the large grey room, on the side of said room that faced the door. On the other side the entire wall was in fact a series of windows from floor to ceiling that looked out across the vistas of Atlas, from the streets below to the airships floating by above.

A table sat more or less in the middle of the spacious chamber, with Blake’s mother standing on one side of it while General Ironwood and Councillors Cadenza and Brown stood on the other. The document, the historic treaty that they were gathered in this room to sign with the press and dignitaries and special guests in attendance, sat in the centre of the table, equidistant between the two of them.

It wasn’t a perfect sight – the fact that Councillors Sleet and Camilla had both opted to sign the treaty alone in a dark room in an attempt to escape being publicly associated with it was a little troubling, while Councillor Bradley had signed from his hospital bed, having been too ill to attend today’s ceremony – but in spite of the fact that not everyone in Atlas was in favour of this moment as Blake stood in the crowd and watched she felt a surge of hope like she hadn’t felt since…honestly, since Sienna Khan had replaced her father as leader of the White Fang and it had felt – and Blake had been far from the only person to think this – that they might finally be on the verge of getting something done.

Hopefully the promise of this moment didn’t turn out to be as illusory as that had turned out to be.

Kali reached down and picked up the pen that lay on the table. She looked at it for a moment, and then looked at the crowd watching. Her eyes found Blake, and a slight smile crossed her features. The flashes of the camera apps illuminated her face as Kali took a step forward, away from the table.

“Nearly eighty years ago,” she said. “The first faunus came to Menagerie hoping to build a new community, free from slavery, prejudice and oppression; a community where they could live with dignity and equality, and not be thought less than any other man. It has been a long road since then, and not without a few bumps along the way, but I consider this historic moment to be a continuation of the hopes and dreams of those first settlers, as Menagerie takes its place amongst the family of nations. On this day we stand with dignity and equality amongst our older siblings and as four kingdoms become five we vow to play our part in fostering peace, unity and security throughout the world.” She stepped back, and bent over the table to place her signature upon the treaty. “We now take our place in the sun.”

Blake began to applaud a split second before the rest of the crowd began – some politely, some with more enthusiasm – to do so. It had been a while since she had heard her mother speak politically like that, and she found that she appreciated it better than she had when she’d been a child. She appreciated the substance of what her mother had just done better than she’d understood things when she’d been a child, too. The treaty to which Kali Belladonna had just, on behalf of Menagerie, put her signature – her father had signed it too, back on Menagerie, although in his case this was not because he didn’t want to be seen signing it but because he couldn’t leave Menagerie to come to Atlas any more than the entire Atlas council could go to him – was the result of months of negotiations. Kali and Councillor Cadenza had travelled back and forth between Menagerie and Atlas – with the CCT down there was no other way to communicate but face to face – hammering out the details with Dad and with the Atlas Council before they had something that they were both willing to present to the world.

As a result of this treaty, once the signatures of all the Atlesian councillors were placed alongside those of the Belladonnas, Atlas became the first kingdom to recognise Menagerie as a sovereign kingdom in its own right, pledged to exert diplomatic pressure on the other kingdoms to follow suit, and to champion the admission of Menagerie to international bodies like the Vytal Commission, which would give Menagerie the right – or impose on them the duty, depending on how you looked at it – of hosting the Vytal Festival every ten years.

Councillor Cadenza – a baby bump clearly visible, straining slightly at her fuschia pink jacket - was speaking now, having just set her own signature upon the document. “Chieftainess Belladonna reminds us all that it was after the Great War that the first faunus settlers, freed from bondage, set sail upon a perilous journey to find a land that they could call their own, to live in freedom and enjoy their own laws. It was also in the wake of the Great War that Atlas bestowed upon the world the gift of the Cross Continental Transmit network, and the four splendid towers that anchored it, as a sign that we had renounced our former ways and wished to embrace our fellow kingdoms as friends and equals. And it is fitting that, as Chieftainess Belladonna completes the work of those first faunus, we in Atlas bestow upon our new friend and ally that same gift: a connection to the CCT. And, following the sterling work by our technical experts in re-establishing communications to Mantle and all our settlements on Solitas, I am confident that the CCT network will soon be functioning once more.”

She did not say ‘functioning everywhere except Vale’, because that would have brought down the mood of the occasion, but it did not make it any less true. Blake was optimistic of this development and of all that might result from it but she wasn’t so naïve as to be blind to the fact that Atlas’s enthusiasm for building a CCT tower on Menagerie owed something to the fact that there was no enthusiasm in Vale for getting their tower repaired. Blake didn’t know whether Atlas had made overtures to Vale and been rebuffed, or concluded from Valish silence that they didn’t want Atlas’ help – she enjoyed General Ironwood’s trust in certain respects but that didn’t mean he told her everything – but either way the result was the same: Atlas was looking to Menagerie now, instead of Vale. They were even funding the construction of the tower themselves – not even loaning Menagerie the money that it didn’t have, just bearing the costs outright – in their eagerness to get to work.

In a similar vein, Atlas had also agreed to invest in the establishment of a Huntsman Academy on Menagerie, though it would probably be quite a modest one at first but the mere fact that Menagerie would have an academy of its own was something that Blake would have considered a pipe dream not too long ago.

A tower, an academy…Menagerie would soon have all the accoutrements of a ‘real’ kingdom, as it stood at last acknowledged as that which it had always been.

The treaty that her parents had negotiated was not perfect; the joint commitment to ending discrimination based on race existed only in the political declaration, which had no legal force – but on the other hand the Atlesians hadn’t gotten the condemnation of the White Fang that they wanted either, only a rather watery condemnation of all forms of political violence – but it was a monumental achievement nonetheless, and just the beginning. Once the Menagerie tower was completed then further talks would begin, at a greatly expedited pace, with a focus on trade and the investment that Menagerie so badly needed. It was more than had been achieved by all of Sienna Khan’s violence or, Blake had to admit, all of her parents' prior activism until five years ago.

It was a pity that it took fighting and bloodshed on a scale unseen since the end of the Faunus Revolution to bring about such a radical shift in the state of the world, but for better or worse the battle had been fought and the dead had perished and wishing that it had not been so would not give Flash Sentry back his leg, would not summon the jewels of Atlas out of their graves, would not restore Beacon Tower or bring Professor Ozpin back to life; the world had changed, and the faunus had an opportunity to improve their lot in consequence of that change. They had an obligation to their posterity to take it.

General Ironwood was the next to sign the treaty – he did not make a speech – followed by Councillors Brown and Wistia, each of them setting their names down on the front page before joining her mother for a posed photo-op behind the table, the historic treaty sitting in front of them. They stood there for perhaps a minute or two, wearing polite smiles which, in the case of General Ironwood especially, became somewhat strained as the seconds ticked by and the lights flashed from the scrolls into their faces.

Then it was time for questions from the press.

“What happens now?”

General Ironwood cleared his throat. “Chieftainess Belladonna will now return to Menagerie aboard the Atlesian cruiser Fearless, accompanied by a company of unarmed CBs who will begin immediate construction of the Menagerie CCT tower.”

“Unarmed? You mean they’ll have no weapons with them?”

“That is what unarmed means, correct,” General Ironwood said, an edge of impatience in his voice.

“Under the terms of this agreement,” Councillor Cadenza said. “There will be no Altesian military presence on Menagerie. This is not an imperialist venture on our part, nor a way of establishing a fortress on foreign soil. Atlas has never deployed its armed forces within other kingdoms without their leave and express permission, and it is not about to begin now.”

“But aren’t the CBs military personnel?”

“That might be true, in a technical sense,” Kali said. “But they will be coming to Menagerie not as soldiers but as technicians and engineers.” She smiled. “The reputation of the Atlesian navy’s construction specialists spreads far and wide, and I can’t think of anyone better suited to help us join the Cross Continental network.”

Nicely done, Mom, Blake thought. She had noticed since coming to Atlas that the Atlesians were a people whose pride sometimes crossed the line into vanity, and were far from impervious to sops to that same vanity.

“If this is an unarmed expedition why is it travelling aboard a warship?”

“Because it’s a long way to Menagerie and we don’t want everyone to get eaten by Nevermores before they arrive,” General Ironwood said, and the hint of impatience had become clear and obvious to everyone.

“What about the White Fang? Won’t the construction be in danger from attack?”

“We recognise the concerns of our Atlesian partners in that regard,” Kali declared. “Which is why Menagerie has undertaken to provide security for the construction site and everyone involved in it by our own law-enforcement.”

It’s lucky that none of these people have ever been to Menagerie or you might not get away with that, Blake thought. Her parents didn’t keep a huge number of guards, certainly they were far fewer in number than the forces available to the White Fang. If Sienna decided to destroy the nascent tower it was hard to imagine that she could be stopped. Which meant that her parents – and the Atlesians, presumably – had to have good reason for thinking that the White Fang wouldn’t do just that. Perhaps she could find out what those reasons were before her mother left.

“When is the tower going to become operational?”

“That’s impossible to say with certainty at this point, but we’re confident that essential functions will be up and running within a year,” Councillor Cadenza said.

“What about those who say that this is a waste of money that could be better spent on our own citizens?”

“I think that a great many of our own citizens are as eager to see the CCT network restored as I am, and I’m confident that the entire kingdom will see the benefits once it is operational again,” Councillor Cadenza replied.

“And do you have any comment on the criticisms that Jacques Schnee has levelled at this treaty?”

“I haven’t seen any specific criticism by Mister Schnee,” Councillor Cadenza said. “If there are no further questions-“

“Chieftainess Belladonna, isn’t it true that your daughter is a Specialist in the Atlesian military?”

“That is correct,” Kali said, drawing her shoulders back just a little. “In fact she’s in this room today.” She gestured towards Blake, who blinked from the flashing lights of a dozen pictures of her suddenly being taken.

Thanks, Mom.

“And how does your daughter serving in a foreign military make you feel?”

Kali looked into Blake’s eyes. She didn’t glance at any of the scrolls functioning as cameras, nor at the reporter who had asked the question. She only looked at Blake. “My daughter,” she said. “Blake has chosen a career which is filled with unimaginable peril, and as her mother that terrifies me. But she has also chosen a career in which she is able to help those who are most in need of aid; a path in which she brings hope to the hopeless, succour to the vulnerable, and light into darkness; and as her mother I couldn’t be more proud of her for that.”

Blake’s ears drooped to her head as she felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

That was the end of the questions, and after a few more pictures were taken of Kali shaking hands with each of the Atlesian councillors, the event broke up and all of the reporters and photographers were ushered out of the room by Atlesian androids, as the Atlesian councillors departed. Blake came to attention and saluted General Ironwood as he walked by.

“Belladonna,” General Ironwood said, returning her salute and giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

Blake returned to a more casual stance as soon as he had left the room, which meant that she was not standing at attention when her mother approached her.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you back there,” Kali said. “It wasn’t my intent.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You told the entire Kingdom of Atlas that you couldn’t be more proud of me and you didn’t want to embarrass me?”

“I told the truth,” Kali said, as she reached out and took Blake’s hands in her own. “I know that I can’t claim any credit for it, after the way that your father and I abandoned you, but I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become. In fact, the fact that you did it on your own without our help just makes me prouder.”

“I didn’t do it all by myself,” Blake said. “I had the help of some good friends on the way.”

“And I’m very glad of that, too,” Kali said. She looked at Twilight, and her tone was warm as she said, “Twilight Sparkle, it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Chieftainess,” Twilight said. “Congratulations on everything that you’ve accomplished.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” Kali said, before turning her attention to Weiss. “Forgive me, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Blake cleared her throat. “Mom, this is-”

Weiss offered a pitch-perfect curtsy. “Weiss Schnee, milady. It’s an honour to meet you.”

“Weiss...Schnee?” Kali repeated, unable to keep the dubiousness out of her voice even if she had been trying.

Weiss was able to pick up on that as well as Blake, clearly. “I’m not my father, Chieftainess,” she said. “I was not born guilty of his crimes, nor do I share his attitudes.”

Kali was silent for a moment, looking searchingly into Weiss’ eyes, although what she was searching for Blake couldn’t tell. “Of course,” she said. “Forgive me, but...I don’t know what’s more strange, a Schnee standing beside my daughter or telling...well, a faunus that they’re honoured to meet her.”

“My father’s attitude,” Weiss said. “Not mine. Although...it would be naive of me to pretend that I don’t understand why you feel that way. Nevertheless it is an honour to meet you. Blake...has been a very good friend to me these past few months.”

“We’ve been good friends to one another,” Blake said.

“A Belladonna and a Schnee? The world might just be changing after all,” Kali said, the wariness in her tone giving way to a degree of amusement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Weiss Schnee; but, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Of course,” Weiss said. “We’ll leave you to it. Blake.”

“Goodbye, Weiss. Twilight.”

“Goodbye Blake,” Twilight said, as the two of them took their leave and left Blake alone with her mother.

“Weiss Schnee?”

“She’s not what I thought she’d be,” Blake said. “In the same way that Atlas isn’t what I thought it would be. Nothing...nothing has turned out to be how I imagined them when I was in the White Fang. Back then I thought that so many people and things were as black as night, as wretched as the grimm...but that was our own darkness I was painting others in, and all the while...it took me so long to see the light.”

“There’s no shame in making mistakes, so long as you can learn from them in future,” Kali said. “I’m just glad that you’re making friends here. Speaking of which, how’s Rainbow Dash? I haven’t seen her since I got here.”

“I haven’t seen much of her myself,” Blake said softly. Although they were room-mates together in Atlas Academy, Rainbow had been pretty much a stranger to her for a couple of weeks now, ever since…Blake actually didn’t know what had happened because Rainbow was never around for long enough to tell her, but something had happened fairly recently – not long after graduation, although Rainbow had been acting a little strangely even before that. There’d been that incident at the party, and then she’d gone to see General Ironwood and come back…changed. “I’m a little worried about her.”

Kali frowned. “Worried? How? And why?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Blake admitted. “But she’s not the same as she used to be. She yelled at one of her friends, and I know that I haven’t known her that long but even those who have agreed that it wasn’t like her to do that. She gets up and leaves the room before I do, and doesn’t come back until after I’ve gone to bed. And that might actually make me the person who sees the most of her. She’s been ghosting her friends, they never see her anymore. Some of them are quite upset about it. I’d like to help but I don’t know what I should do…or if I should do anything.”

“I understand,” Kali said. “I…I can’t tell you what to do about this. I’ve only spoken to her once, and anyway I’m hardly in any position to start giving you advice now. Whatever you decide to do, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice. But, if you do see Rainbow Dash, will you please give her this?” She handed Blake a letter, in a slightly crumpled envelope with RAINBOW DASH scrawled across it in untidy block capitals. “It’s from Gilda, I said that I’d try and deliver it.”

Blake nodded. “I’ll do what I can. What’s it like, having a former member of the White Fang as one of Dad’s guards?”

“She’s not the only one,” Kali said.

Blake was surprised at that, but after a moment decided that she probably should have expected it. “Does it ever worry you?”

Kali shook her head. “Whatever they were, they’re loyal to your father now. He trusts them, and so do I. Not that it’s something that we frequently discuss, you understand. In fact it’s an unofficial rule amongst the guards not to talk about their pasts too much. It’s easier for everyone that way.”

“I see,” Blake said. “It’s sort of like that here as well. For me, anyway. Everyone Is very considerate.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone who matters,” Blake clarified. “Everyone whose opinion I care about.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kali said. “Will you come and see me off?”

“Of course,” Blake said, and together the two of them left the room and headed for the elevator down to the ground floor and the exit from the Council Hall. They had the elevator all to themselves. Neon blue lights flashed at intervals around the circular elevator car as it descended.

“You gave a good speech,” Blake said. “I haven’t heard you speak like that…for a while. I think I appreciate it more than I did then.”

Kali chuckled. “That’s just because you can understand all the words I use.”

“No, it isn’t that,” Blake said. “It’s that…I appreciate what you and Dad were trying to do back then more than I did at the time. I appreciate that…slow progress is still progress. I didn’t get that before.”

“You were a child then,” Kali said. “Other faunus much older than you made the same mistake. Besides, it wasn’t as if we made a lot of progress.”

“You have now,” Blake said. “What you’ve done is…incredible, and so quickly. It’s…it’s a great start, like I would never have imagined. Are you proud of yourself?”

Kali hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “If it doesn’t make me seem too conceited.”

Blake shook her head. “You should be proud of yourself, and so should Dad. I…I couldn’t be prouder of both of you.”

Kali laughed as the elevator completed its descent, and opened up to reveal the lobby waiting for them beyond.

“Every time I come here I’m surprised that you’re here for me to see you,” Kali said, as the two of them walked out, heading across the crowded lobby, weaving between the stately and slow-moving androids and the harassed aides running back and forth as the pair walked towards the exit. “Doesn’t General Ironwood know what to do with you?”

“I don’t think General Ironwood is quite sure what to do,” Blake admitted. “Once we get the CCT back online we can find out what’s really going on in Mistral and Vacuo. Right now there are more rumours going around than facts.”

“Are you finding wearing that uniform a little more boring than you expected?”

“This isn’t actually a uniform,” Blake said, one hand going reflexively to her tie. “Or at least, we’re given a lot of discretion over what the uniform can be.”

Although she had to admit that her outfit was heavily based on the Atlas academy students uniform, albeit with the colours changed a bit because grey wasn’t really her colour while black definitely was; hence she was wearing a white shirt with a black tie, a black waistcoat and matching black trousers; she probably would have looked like she was on her way to the office if it weren’t for the long white tailcoat and descended behind her almost down to her boots.

“It looks good on you,” Kali said. “I like it.”

Blake smiled out of one corner of her mouth. “Thanks, Mom.”

The glass doors opened for them automatically and they walked down the steps towards the road, where an official car in Atlas white was waiting for them under the stewardship of an android valet, whose body – slightly more boxy than the military androids – was painted red. The robot scanned Kali’s face, and nodded as it opened the door for her.

Blake climbed into the luxurious interior of the vehicle, and the door was closed behind them before the car began to move, it’s hover-engine purring softly as it conveyed them through the city.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Kali said, leaning back in her seat and stapling her fingers. “Are you bored?”

“General Ironwood hasn’t given me a job yet, but I’m keeping myself busy,” Blake said. “There’s always something on the job board, and if it seems like I’m always here that’s because...well, the General lets me know when you’re next expected in Atlas, and I make sure that I’m back for that.”

“I’m glad,” Kali said. “I sometimes think that even if these talks were getting nowhere it would be worth it to have an excuse to come up and see you. What kind of missions are you taking on?”

“I try and stay around Atlas when I can,” Blake said “And if there’s a mission in Low Town then I’ll take it. They need more help than hunting down any grimm who wanders into the slums, but that’s the best way that I can help them personally, so that’s what I do.”

Kali nodded. “Hopefully, as relations between Menagerie and Atlas improve so will the lot of those poor people, beneath Atlas and in Mantle. If we hope to start our own mining operations then we’ll need people with mining experience. Do you think that they’d consider moving to Menagerie?”

“I’m sure a lot of them would, if they thought there was a livelihood waiting for them at the end,” Blake replied. Mining work would always be difficult and dangerous, but it didn’t have to be so dangerous or so poorly rewarded as it was in the SDCs mines.

“Are you sticking with missions that put you around faunus, because...are you having any trouble?”

“I’m sticking with missions that are local because I don’t want to be too far away for too long so I can’t make it back, and I often go to Low Town because somebody needs to care about those people. It’s not about me, Mom; like I said, nobody that I care about has given me any problems because of what I am.” Blake said, “Plus...I like being able to do a job and then come...home, for want of a better word, at the end of it. For a little while, anyway. I’m sure that the general will give me an official assignment soon, and when he does it’s likely to be long term and…hectic,” she settled on a word that hopefully didn’t seem too alarming. “In the meantime - between the jobs off the board, I mean - I can get to know the city, spend some time with Twilight and Weiss…I came to this city to fight for what was right but I’m under no illusions. The fighting is going to come, so I’m taking advantage of the fact that it’s not here yet.”

“I’m glad to see you’re taking a sensible attitude to these things,” Kali said.

“I don’t love the fight for its own sake, Mom,” Blake said. “I never did. Only for what we’re fighting for.”

Kali nodded silently. “And how are you finding the city in the clouds?”

“It’s not perfect, but where is?” Blake said. “I can see why Ilia was so enamoured with it.” She frowned. “Are you sure this is going to be safe?”

Kali chuckled. “I feel perfectly safe with you here.”

“Mom,” Blake said earnestly. “You know what I meant. You know that Dad doesn’t have enough guards to protect the construction of the tower if the White Fang decides to disrupt it.”

“Your father doesn’t have enough guards to protect us if the White Fang decided to move against us,” Kali admitted candidly. “But they won’t, and they won’t disrupt the tower either.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because Sienna came to see us and told us so.”

Blake boggled. “Sienna Khan…came to see you? After what happened in Vale?”

“You can’t deny that she’s audacious.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Blake muttered. “When was this?”

“Cadance’s first visit,” Kali said. “She – Sienna – was concerned about the presence of an Atlesian man of war in the harbour.”

“I can’t imagine she was thrilled to see an Atlesian councillor in your house either,” Blake said.

“Fortunately she didn’t call until after Cadance had retired to her ship,” Kali said.

“Fortunately,” Blake repeated. “Or she had Ilia watching the house to tell her when the councillor had gone and it was safe for her to come by.”

“Also a possibility,” Kali conceded. “Anyway, although she wasn’t thrilled about any of this-“

“That sounds like an understatement,” Blake said.

“In the end she accepted that this tower will be a good thing for all of Menagerie,” Kali said. “She won’t stand in its way.”

Blake supposed that she could see the logic in that: it would be a hard sell to explain to the faunus in Menagerie how they were being helped by the White Fang sabotaging efforts to integrate them more closely with the rest of the world and make Menagerie more prosperous. All the same, her misgivings were not so easily dismissed. “Will the rest of the White Fang see it the same way?”

“I don’t know,” Kali said. “We’ll just have to hope that Sienna can keep them in live even if they disagree with her.”

And that she’s more successful at containing dissent at her leadership than Dad was when she was the one stirring the pot, Blake thought. But there was nothing that she or her parents or anyone else could do about that; nothing except, ironically, trust in Sienna Khan to keep her grip upon the White Fang.

The car conveyed them to one of the numerous docking pads around the edge of the floating city, where the cruiser Fearless was waiting, sat on the circular bay while androids and personnel loaded large, heavy-looking crates and boxes into the cargo bay.

The car door opened, exposing the two of them to the brisk air of Atlas and to the shouts of the NCOs directing the loading that filled said air as the ship made its final preparations. An officer – a major, judging by the rank insignia on his shoulders that Blake was getting better at recognising, which made him the officer commanding of a ship this size – was waiting for her.

“Chieftainess,” he said. “We’re almost ready to depart.”

“Thank you, Major,” Kali said. She turned to Blake, and embraced her. “Be careful.”

Blake returned the hug. “You too, Mom.”

Kali chuckled. “You’re the huntress, so why do you sound as worried about me as I am about you.”

“I know who’s got my back,” Blake said. “Who’s got you and Dad’s?”

Kali smiled softly. “We’ve got one another’s.” She took a step back. “Stay safe, my baby girl. I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” Blake said. She glanced at the waiting major. “Take good care of her.”

“Don’t worry, Specialist; the Fearless always comes through and she always looks after us. Like our motto: the name says it all.”

Blake nodded. “Call me,” she said. “When the tower’s built.”

“We will,” Kali promised.

Blake watched as she walked away, side by side with the ship’s commanding officer, heading towards the great black form of the Atlesian man of war as it sat squat upon the docking pad like some kind of slumbering beast with its tongue hanging out and its jaw open enough to swallow the little insect-like forms that scurried around it. As Blake watched, it swallowed her mother too, as the major commanding escorted her up a personnel ramp away from the hustle and bustle around the cargo hold. Kali turned on the verge of entering the ship, and waved to Blake. Blake waved back, and then Kali entered the ship and was out of her sight.

Blake, noticing in an offhand manner that the official car that she and her mother had taken to get here had driven off at some point during their conversation, retreated a short distance into a glass-walled observation booth where anyone who wished could observe the departure of ships from the docking bay without being at risk of blowback from the mighty engines of the great vessels. And there she waited; she waited and she watched as all the final preparations were complete and all the last personnel scurried aboard as the androids attached to the docking bay itself marched or rolled away lest they be damaged by the takeoff, while Blake kept her eyes fixed upon the cruiser.

The great beast stirred to life. The engines of the Fearless roared as the ship began to rise, slowly at first but with increasing speed with every moment that passed, off the docking pad. It turned, and Blake had to shield her eyes from the bright light of the engines’ drive plumes so that she could see the warship begin its long journey, flying away from Atlas on a course for the far side of the world.

It only became easier to look as the ship became smaller and smaller, but Blake stayed where she was nevertheless, watching as the cruiser became little more than a dark speck upon the blue sky. Still she waited, and still she watched, until she could no longer see it at all.

“Good luck, Mom,” Blake whispered, as at last she turned away and began to walk slowly back towards the towering spire of Atlas Academy.

Author's Note

I'm not going to go and check, but my gut tells me this might be the longest gap between releases of chapters since I started this story.

This isn't because this is chapter was such a killer that it took me a month to grind it out; I've had this written for about three weeks now.

No, this took a long time because of the cool announcement that I promised last time, which is that this fic has a Discord server now, shared with it's sister fic Spark to Spark, Dust to Dust, a RWBY/Hasbro crossover written by Cody Fett and Cyclone who have been an invaluable help with advice, editing (latterly, starting with the previous chapter) and sharing ideas between our two stories.

So check out the server and check out their story too because they're much better writers than I am.

Discord Invitation Link

The House of Schnee

The House of Schnee

Four months earlier…

Winter stood erect, back straight, one hand upon the hilt of her rapier, the other arm tucked behind her back, displaying perfect military posture.

Yet all the same she could not disguise her unease and discomfiture from Weiss as the two stood on the docking bay outside of Winter’s airship.

“You don’t have to tell me that you’re fine with this if you’re not,” Winter said softly.

“I’m fine,” Weiss murmured.

“If you are angry with me then I’ll understand,” Winter said. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m not angry, I’m fine.”

“Weiss, I’m not doing this because…you can tell me how you really feel.”

“I said I’m fine!” Weiss snapped.

“Stop lying to me!” Winter yelled right back at her, taking a step towards her younger sister, her arm coming out from behind her back as she looked as though she was about to grab Weiss and shake her until the truth came out. “Who are you pretending for? I’ve already told you that you can tell me how you really feel about this so who are you lying for?”

“Have you considered that I might be lying for myself?” Weiss asked sharply. She turned away from Winter, and looked up to where the ruined stump of the tower was just about visible on the hills overlooking Vale; where the great tower that had once risen so high and so majestically into the clouds was now mostly rubble scattered on the ground with only a nub remaining.

“Weiss-“ Winter began.

“What good would it do to say that I don’t want to go back?” Weiss asked. “What good would it do to say that I don’t want to go…to that house, to mother and father? What good would it do to tell you how much I hate this? None at all. It wouldn’t change anything. So why should I say it?”

She felt her sister’s hand upon her shoulder. “Weiss, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Weiss said. “It isn’t your fault.”

“I’m the one who’s about to renege on my agreement with father, even knowing what that means to you.”

“Like you said, or were about to say,” Weiss said. “It’s not as though you’re doing this to spite me. You can’t abandon your post.”

“I-”

“Don’t,” Weiss said. “Don’t say it.” She closed her eyes, and sighed long and hard and deep. “Flash and Cardin are both in the hospital,” she said. “Flash is going to need a prosthetic leg to walk again. Professor Ozpin’s dead, the CCT is down, Beacon…Beacon’s gone, at least for now. The world is not what it was a few weeks ago, still less when the year began, or when you made your bargain with father. I’d have to be the most selfish girl in the whole of Remnant to demand that you keep your word for my sake, when General Ironwood and Atlas need you.” She snorted. “I’m sure that there are some people who think I’m precisely that selfish, but I have absolutely no intention of living down to their expectations of me.”

Winter spun her around forcefully, turning Weiss in place until she was facing her elder sister, who got down on one knee and embraced Weiss with both arms, squeezing her tight. “Thank you,” she said. “For understanding. I would have understood if you didn’t, but I’m glad you do.”

“I am a huntress in training,” Weiss reminded her. “The greater good of the world comes before our personal desires.” She hesitated. “Or at least I was a huntress in training. I doubt that I’ll be allowed to continue my studies in Atlas.”

“I’m afraid not,” Winter said. “Once you go home…Weiss, will you promise me something?”

“That depends,” Weiss said. “What is it?”

Winter stood up. “Don’t let father shut you away in that house,” she said. “Don’t forget that you’re not alone. Don’t let father make you forget. He won’t keep you a prisoner, but he might like you to think that you are. To convince yourself of it. Don’t.”

Weiss smiled, only a little but nevertheless the corner of her lip turned up. “That’s it? I thought you might ask me to do something arduous, not something that I was planning on doing anyway.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Winter said. “I only wished to be sure.”

“Believe me,” Weiss said. “I have absolutely no intention of simply wasting away in that house.”

Even if Atlesian socialite is the only role left to me, it’s still better than becoming a ghost in the halls of that enormous mansion.

A ghost like mother.

Anything would be better than that.

Present...

Weiss wiped her hands with a paper napkin. “That was really nice,” she declared. “Where did you find this place, Twilight?” she asked, in reference to the delightfully old-fashioned bijou tea shop where they had gone for lunch after the ceremony finished. Twilight’s friend Rarity had joined them on the way, and now they sat at a table just outside the café, finishing off their drinks as the traffic of the street – foot and road – passed swiftly by them.

“It’s convenient for where I work,” Twilight said. “Where I usually work, anyway.”

“Where you belong, darling,” Rarity said, holding up her tea-cup in a slightly affected way, with her pinky finger sticking out.

“Where I belong?” Twilight repeated. “Where I do good work, sure, I’ll accept that? But belong…I’m not so sure any more.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Rarity said, with mock sternness in her voice. “You can’t honestly mean to tell me that you miss being out in the…the field!”

“I got to stand alongside Rainbow Dash, and Applejack when she was there,” Twilight said. “When I put on my armour I got to feel as though I wasn’t helpless and in need of protection. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel the same way, or why have you enrolled in remedial classes.”

“That,” Rarity declared. “Is completely different.”

“Is it?” Twilight asked sceptically. “You mean you’re not thinking of applying to Atlas next year under the new delayed entry program?”

“Oh of course I am, Twilight, why else would I be taking refresher classes in aura and combat technique?” Rarity said. “But the fact remains that the circumstances are quite different.”

“How?”

“Oh, darling, must you make me demean myself by spelling it out?” Rarity asked. “Because I don’t have a big brain the size of yours, now are you happy?” She sipped from her teacup. “It’s not that I want to become a huntress now any more than I did when we graduated from Canterlot; don’t mistake me, this isn’t some kind of delayed realisation on my part of what I want to do with my life. This isn’t destiny calling to tell me that it made an error the first time. It’s just that…what with that dreadful battle and Atlas being so short of huntsmen it seems…can I really justify standing on the sidelines while the world is in peril? I can’t protect Sweetie Belle by making dresses, as much as I wish that I could. Since I have a sword to offer Atlas it feels as though I ought to offer it. But you, Twilight Sparkle, you have a mind as fine as any and better than most, and I for one am in full agreement with those who think that you serve Atlas best by making use of it, not by stomping around in some tin can.”

“Evidently a lot of important people agree with you,” Twilight said, with a slight hint of a huff in her voice. “But I…I wish that…I wish that you’d reconsider that delayed entry to Atlas. You know that you aren’t made for this like Rainbow Dash, or even like Applejack.”

“I know that Applejack doesn’t want to be a huntress any more than I do, but does it because she feels she ought to.”

“Yes, but you’re not like Applejack,” Twilight said softly. “It’s bad enough worrying about her and Rainbow Dash – and now Blake, too – without worrying about you out in the field while I’m sitting in the lab.”

The two of them stared at one another for a moment, before they both broke out into laughter.

Weiss blinked. “Is something funny?” she asked, trying and failing to get it on her own.

“Not really,” Twilight admitted. “It’s just the irony that…I’ve spent so long thinking that Rarity and the others try to smother me, but given the chance I just want to smother Rarity the exact same way.”

Rarity smiled. “That I’m just like you and you’re just like me, darling. Truer words were never spoken.”

“At least you’re both getting the chance to do something for Atlas,” Weiss said, failing rather miserably at keeping the sense of resentment towards the pair of them for their good fortune out of her voice. “You’re both very lucky in that respect.”

Their faces fell. Twilight especially looked ashamed of herself. “Weiss,” she said softly, reaching out across the wooden table for Weiss’ hand. “I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have brought the subject up-“

“No, I’m sorry,” Weiss said, shaking her head vigorously. “My feeling…I had no right to take it out on you, especially when you’ve been so nice to me, inviting me out, and making me this dress-“

“Since you don’t need to wear anything especially well suited to wandering the outdoors,” Rarity said. “You might as well look fabulous, darling. It isn’t as though you don’t have the looks for it.”

She had dressed Weiss in a silver-white cocktail dress that reached down to the floor but had a split skirt for ease of movement; a blue sash was tied around her waist and a silver-white shrug with long sleeves that fastened at the neck with a trio of sapphires dangling from the collar, matching her earrings.

“As I said, I appreciate you running this out for me,” Weiss said. “And if you are looking to improve your sword skills for Atlas…it’s an épée you fight with, isn’t it?”

Rarity nodded. “I can shoot passably well with a bow but the épée was my main weapon at Canterlot. I’ve tried to keep in practice, but you know how it is.”

Weiss did, in fact, know how it was; although in her case it was not her fencing skills that she had allowed to atrophy but her singing voice. She hadn’t sung in public for a year, after all, and she had no idea if she would be able to sing again if she tried. It was just how it went with these things: you chose something that was important to you and then you let other things fall by the wayside in the pursuit of that goal…until life intervened and suddenly you found that those skills you’d thought you wouldn’t use might actually come in handy after all. “You know, I’m a fair hand with a sword,” she said, with the modesty appropriate to a true Schnee. “If you need a sparring partner I’d be happy to show you a few moves.”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. “You would…that’s extraordinarily generous of you, Miss Sch- I mean, Weiss. I couldn’t, I mean I wouldn’t want to impose upon-“

“It’s not imposition, really,” Weiss said. Anything to get out of the house. “I’d be happy to, if you’d like.”

“Then I would be honoured to accept,” Rarity declared.

“Then it’s settled,” Weiss said. She might not be able to fight for humanity as a huntress but she could at least make sure that Rarity was a little better prepared to do so in her stead than she might have been otherwise. “Are any of your other friends considering delayed applications to Atlas, too?”

“I hope not,” Twilight said. “I really can’t see Fluttershy or Pinkie Pie as huntresses.”

“That I’m just like you,” Rarity whispered, a smile playing across her features.

“Okay,” Twilight said. “I know, I know; but honestly, can you see it?”

“No,” Rarity admitted. “And as far as I’m aware neither Fluttershy or Pinkie is planning to take that step. Although Maud has; in fact she’s already back in service.”

“She is?” Twilight asked. “I didn’t know that; how do you know?”

“Applejack told me,” Rarity answered. “Apparently they ran into each other in Atlas; she’s filling in the missing space on Trixie’s team.”

“Who’s Maud?” inquired Weiss..

“Our friend Pinkie’s older sister,” Twilight explained. “She was on a team with Rainbow Dash and Applejack in their first year at Atlas, but she dropped out. She was going to apply to study geology at Everton.”

“Apparently she also thinks that Atlas needs huntresses right now more than it needs geologists,” Rarity said.

“So many students being graduated early,” Weiss said. “And people who passed combat school but didn’t apply for or pass the exams for Atlas being encouraged to re-apply, or apply later than normal. Twilight, is all of this a bad sign?”

“You’re asking me?” asked Twilight, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the one on the inside,” Weiss said. “You work for the military, and everyone knows that General Ironwood thinks a lot of you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m privy to all of his secrets,” Twilight replied, sounding a little more embarrassed than the situation warranted. “But…it isn’t a good sign, obviously, but I don’t think it’s a terrible sign either. We won the Battle of Vale, but we lost a lot of good people in the process, and the general says that our enemies will be watching to see if we look weakened by it, which is why we have to make ourselves look strong; which is why we need to get more huntsmen out in the field, amongst other things. But it’s not like we’re cutting corners. Everyone like Rarity who applies late has to have graduated from a combat school, and they’ll get put through the same academy programme as any aspiring huntsman or huntress would. And as for the huntsmen who fought at Vale, don’t you think they’ve earned their accelerated graduation?” Twilight asked, but winced once she realised what she’d just said. “I’m sorry, Weiss, I’m so sorry that I-”

“It’s fine,” Weiss insisted. “My father wouldn’t allow me to take the oath even if General Ironwood wanted to let me take it. And considering that all I did during the battle was get my team-mates wounded I’m not sure that I deserve it as much as some others who fought in that battle.”

“You still fought,” Twilight said. “It doesn’t matter if you made mistakes, or if you didn’t do anything to make you famous across the kingdom; you were there and you fought and that should be all that matters.”

Weiss smiled sadly. “That’s very kind of you to say, but my father doesn’t see it the same way that you do.” Her eyes were drawn upwards to the blue sky up above; a sky that was disturbed by the stately passage of a pair of Atlesian cruisers flying overhead, escorted by a quartet of Skyrays flying on either side of the great ships like minnows swimming alongside a school of whales. “Are there more of those ships in the sky than there used to be?” she asked. “Or did I just not notice them before?”

“There are a few more,” Twilight said. “When the CCT went down a lot of our ships scattered abroad decided to make their way back home; and now, until the CCT comes back up I think a lot of people don’t want to send them out again; at least not any further than Solitas.”

“So…this is it?” Weiss said. “The whole fleet is here and we’ve abandoned the rest of Remnant?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight admitted. “Detailed deployments…what we know about our deployment with comms down…that’s a little above my paygrade. I’m not sure that all the units out in Anima and Vacuo had a ship to get home in, and maybe they didn’t all come back. But I can see why General Ironwood is reluctant to send any forces out so far that he can’t talk to them.”

“I suppose that for the sake of Canterlot and others like it we should be grateful that you were able to restore communications across Atlas,” Rarity said.

“I was just one of a large team working on that,” Twilight said, her face flushing with embarrassment. “It was Science & Research’s top priority once the fleet came home. And I’m sure the CCT will be back up soon, thanks to the agreement with Blake’s parents on Menagerie.”

“Yes, how was the ceremony?” Rarity asked.

“It was…nice,” Weiss stated evenly, possibly forcibly. “Everyone had an appropriate sense of the occasion.”

“I do so hope it will all work out,” Rarity said. “I’ve heard that Menagerie fashions are just fascinating; as I understand it they started with the Mistralian fashion of the time but have diverged since in a way that makes a marvellous study of evolution in style; unfortunately it’s so hard to see for oneself…until now, at least.”

“I just hope that enthusiasm for the alliance with Atlas continues to hold until the tower is complete,” Twilight said.

“It’s not Menagerie that I’d worry about,” Weiss said. “Who wouldn’t want their home to be connected to the CCT, not to mention all the advantages that partnering with Atlas will give them? It’s Atlas, not Menagerie, that concerns me. My father can’t be the only one who isn’t happy about this.”

“But the council voted to sign the treaty,” Rarity said.

“What the council decides can always be undone later,” Weiss countered.

“But why?” Rarity asked. “What is there to object to in re-establishing the CCT network? Anyone would think these people enjoyed being cut off from the rest of the world.”

“Perhaps some of them do,” Weiss murmured. “For the rest…” She paused for a moment, arranging her thoughts in order. “It feels as though the world changed when Beacon tower fell. Except nobody knows what it changed into yet, not even the world itself; everything is in flux, and who can say when it will settle into a solid state again like it did after the Faunus Rights Revolution? Until it settles there are all sorts of people who think they can affect how the world settles, maybe even remake the broken world in their own image. And they are hostile to any rival vision that threatens their own.”

“Is that what your father wants?” Twilight asked. “To remake the world in his own image?”

Weiss shook her head. “My father has always been too pragmatically focussed on his bottom line to waste resources pursuing grand ambitions. But…I don’t know, I have a lot of time to think at home. Maybe I have too much time.”

“I don’t think so,” Twilight said. “It sounds frighteningly plausible, a lot like the way the end of the Great War heralded the collapse of the pre-war order, but a new order didn’t establish itself fully until the end of the Faunus Rights Revolution. Until then, like now, everything was – as you say – in flux; ideas battled against one another as much as armies did. Perhaps that’s what’s happening here.”

“If I had to ascribe any one idea to my father,” Weiss said. “I think that he would like to see the Vale tower rebuilt and with it the old order restored, everything as it was. That world was very good to him, after all; and to my family, I must admit. This uncertainty that we live in now…it’s not so good.”

“Uncertainty isn’t good for anybody,” Rarity said. “But the burnt toast cannot be put back in the cup once you’ve poured it down the drain.”

Weiss blinked. “How do you pour burnt toast?”

“My little sister is a cook unique in her…whatever the opposite of talent is,” Rarity explained. “And I say that with all due love and affection, you understand.”

“What about you, Weiss?” Twilight asked. “What kind of world would you like to see?”

“I?” Weiss repeated, having to think about a question she hadn’t really considered until this point. “I…as I said, the old world was good to my family, and I had my life planned out in it: graduate from Beacon, become a huntress, restore the honour of the Schnee name in a field wholly unconnected with my father and his…conduct. But now…Rarity, you’re quite right, we can’t go back to the way things were no matter how much we all might want to. That being said, if you were to ask me what I’d like to see the world become? I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of time to think but I haven’t thought about that. I suppose I think we’re on the right track now: reaching out to Menagerie. We can’t hide away from the world, or huddle behind our ships and armies. We shouldn’t let the fact that the world is changing change our sense of obligation towards the kingdoms.”

“I don’t think it will,” Twilight said. “I mean, I hope it won’t. Cadance and General Ironwood won’t let that happen.”

So long as they’re around, Weiss thought, but did not say because it would have been a very gloomy thing to say. “I just hope,” she began to summize. “That when the tower rises, all of these ships that we can see overhead depart again, for places that need them more.” She smiled. “Replaced with all the new ones that are being built, isn’t that right, Twilight?”

Twilight laughed nervously. “You know that I can’t talk about stuff like that. It’s all strictly classified.”

“Everyone knows that they’re building new warships at Park Place,” Weiss said.

“Everyone hasn’t had it confirmed officially,” Twilight corrected. “And so I can neither confirm…nor deny. All I will say is don’t worry, the Kingdom is in safe hands.”

“I’m sure it is,” Weiss said. “The world may be changing but I really hope that Atlas doesn’t change too much. For all its faults…there’s a lot to like about this city.”

“It is a gem,” Rarity said. “The soaring jewel of Remnant. And that’s why we have to take good care of it.”

“And we will,” Twilight said. “All of us.”

“Not quite all,” Weiss said. As much as I might wish otherwise. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “I should be going. Thank you so much for lunch, Twilight; you’ll have to let me pay one of these days.”

“It’s fine,” Twilight said. “My treat.”

“That’s my point, it’s always your treat,” Weiss insisted. “You do realise my father hasn’t cut me off, don’t you?”

The slightly shamefaced look on Twilight’s face confirmed Weiss’s suspicion that that had not been obvious to Twilight. “You can get the bill next time, if it bothers you that much,” the bespectacled girl relented.

Weiss nodded her head. “That’s very…not generous, exactly, but you know what I mean, don’t you?”

“I think so,” Twilight said. “See you around, Weiss; have a good day.”

“I’ll try,” Weiss said softly, before she said farewell to Twilight and Rarity and left them behind, pulling out her scroll as she walked away and using it to summon a cab, which arrived swiftly enough at the street corner to take her home.

The ride passed in silence, but it also passed as quickly as could be expected as the streets of Atlas gave way to the vast estates of the super-rich, who flaunted their vast wealth by acquiring great tracts of land upon the limited and slightly cramped floating rock on which their city rested and then not building upon that land. In fact much of the palatial grounds of the Schnee manor, and others like them – none so grand, of course, as there was no family so wealthy – had nothing on it at all but well-trimmed lawn, maintained by a small army of gardener androids programmed to mow and water and to pull up weeds wherever they might be found. None of those gardeners were out now – they only came out at night, so as not to disturb the pristine views – and so as Weiss’ taxi took her into this mansion district the overall effect was of a vast well-tended barrenness, that might belong to someone but was inhabited by no one, as though some disease had stolen all life away and left the buildings and the gardens and the self-aggrandising monuments intact and unblemished.

The cab pulled into the extravagant driveway of the Schnee Manor, driving past three obelisks topped with the family’ snowflake symbol – speaking of self-aggrandising monuments – before coming to a stop behind a pair of other hovercars. One was white, and looked to be an official car, either from the military or from the Council; possibly father had a visitor, to discuss his opposition to the new Menagerie treaty. The other was a private vehicle, painted black, which Weiss didn’t recognise.

She supposed that she would find out who it belonged too soon enough as she got out, paid the driver of her cab – with a generous tip, of course – and walked briskly towards the front door where it nestled under the columned portico.

The door opened before she had quite reached it, opened by the welcome sight of the ever-efficient Klein Sieben. “Welcome home, Miss Schnee.” He said, as he bowed to her.

Weiss smiled. “Good afternoon, Klein. How is it that you always know exactly where to be?”

“Oh, it’s very simple, Miss Schnee: I’m a butler,” Klein replied, his eyes as brown as coffee twinkling a little as he stepped aside to admit Weiss into the family home. “Did you have a good morning, Miss?”

“Yes,” Weiss said, as she walked through the door. “I did. It was…it was nice.”

“You were out with Miss Sparkle, I believe?”

“Yes, and one or two of her friends.”

“Begging your pardon, Miss Schnee, but there are some who might say that Miss Sparkle’s friends are not entirely suitable company for a lady in your position.”

Weiss stopped, and turned to face the old family retainer. “Frankly, Klein, the fact that some people say that – and I think I can guess who – positively seems like a recommendation.”

Klein stared at her for a moment. His eyes shifted to a red like glowing embers. “I couldn’t have put it better myself, Miss; I’d avoid anybody who said such things – except one of them pays my wages.”

“Klein!” Weiss said, in mock-scandalised tones. She sighed. “Did my father tell you to tell me this?”

Klein’s eyes returned to their previous brown colour. “Your father might tell you himself, Miss; consider this more of a warning.” His eyes changed colour again, this time to a cool blue like the waters of the ocean around Solitas. “I’m just glad that you’re happy, Miss. When I came home, not that I wasn’t glad to see you, but I was worried that you’d forget how to smile here.”

“Not yet, thank goodness,” Weiss said. “I know that – Twilight aside – none of them are of my class. And I know that a couple of them are faunus, not that that ought to matter…but they’re also lovely people, and I think I’m lucky to have them in my life.”

“Then that’s all that matters, Miss, and let the world say what it will.”

Weiss smiled. “Quite, Klein.”

Klein’s smile remained in place, but his eyes returned to their prior brown colour. “Mister Schnee asked me to send you to his study as soon as you returned, Miss.”

“He’s not preoccupied?” Weiss asked. “I saw the two cars outside.”

“Mister Schnee and Young Master Schnee both have guests,” Klein informed her. “Nevertheless, your father was quite explicit: you’re to go and see him immediately upon your return.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “Whitley? Whitley has guests? Who?” She hesitated. “Never mind. Thank you, Klein.”

“A pleasure, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss began to walk through the oversized hallways in the direction of her father’s study. The Schnee Manor was truly vast, built large enough that if a race of giants had suddenly descended upon Atlas and taken it for themselves they could have lived in large parts of the house without much trouble; in fact, when Weiss was very young, her grandfather had told stories about how he had taken the house from ferocious giants, not by fighting them but by tricking them into giving him their gorgeous home so that he could live there with his family.

Weiss had been so much younger then, but she remembered this house being much livelier when grandfather had been alive; there had been a much larger staff, old servants who had been with him for years, retainers who went all the way back to the first expedition of the nascent SDC, parlourmaids and footmen, old Laberna who had taken care of two generations of Schnee children. All of them gone now. It was just the family and faithful, efficient Klein, four of them – with Winter away – rattling around in a house that could hold a small army.

It had been a long time since she had particularly liked this house, and being away and then being forced by circumstance to return had only heightened her dislike of it. Everything was far too big, from the oversized suits of armour guarding the staircase to the giant sculpture of the King Taijitsu in the interior courtyard to the series of vast and mostly empty rooms that sprung off the long corridors.

It was down one of those long corridors that Weiss was walking when she heard the sounds of laughter coming from one of the rooms nearby.

Or giggling, to be more precise. Feminine giggling.

“Oh, Whitley! You shouldn’t have!”

“But I did,” came a voice that Weiss recognised as belonging to her brother, Whitley. “And they look beautiful on you. Dug from amongst the dust deposits in the Schnee mines.”

“They are gorgeous,” said another girl, a different voice to the first. “They really suit you.”

“Of course they do,” said the first girl. “All of Whitley’s gifts are perfect.” She sighed. “But now we really have to be going.”

“Must you?” Whitely said. “So soon?”

“I’m sorry,” said the first girl. “Daddy’s expecting me back home.”

“And I suppose we wouldn’t want to make daddy worry, now would we?” Whitley said, as he ushered out two girls into the hallway where Weiss – having stopped almost without consciously deciding to do so – was waiting for him.

Weiss didn’t know either of the two girls with Whitley, although they both looked to be about Whitley’s age. One of them had silver hair, worn in a single braid draped over her shoulder, and large curved glasses over her lavender eyes; she was dressed in a white shirt with a pink ribbon tie, a grey pleated skirt, and wore a necklace of jade beads around her neck. The other girl, the one standing closer to Whitley, had hair that was purple streaked with white, with a tiara-shaped hairclip similar to the one that Weiss wore set slightly askew in it; her eyes were pale blue, and around her neck she wore a diamond necklace that was almost certainly the gift from Whitley that had so delighted her and her companion; she wore a pink dress, with a white sash around her waist and a purple jacket worn over the top.

“Ah, Weiss,” Whitley greeted her in a genial tone. “I didn’t realise you were back. Allow me to introduce Diamond Tiara Rich and Silver Spoon. Girls, this is my elder sister, Weiss.”

Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon both curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Schnee.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Weiss said. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Diamond Tiara said. “We were just leaving. Goodbye, Whitley.”

“Every hour we’re apart will be an eternity,” Whitley said, as he tenderly kissed her on the cheek.

Weiss kept her face straight and her expression neutral as the two girls walked past her down the hall, heading for the door the opposite way that she had come. Only when they had gone did she allow herself to say, “Someone became quite the charmer while I was away.”

Whitley pouted with embarrassment. “Laugh all you want, sister, they’re much more suitable companions than the type of company you keep nowadays!”

“That is…” Weiss stopped. What was the point? “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You go away to Beacon,” Whitley said. “And even when you’re back you spend every moment you can out of the house, and yet you begrudge me one or two visitors?”

“I don’t begrudge you anything,” Weiss said. “I was just taken by surprise. I don’t remember you being so…tender.”

“You’ve been away for a year,” Whitley reminded her. “And I didn’t stop growing in that time.”

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Weiss said. She hesitated. “You didn’t seem to have given Silver Spoon an expensive gift.”

“She’s Diamond Tiara’s friend, I think they were at school together,” Whitley said, his tone becoming slightly dismissive. “She’s here…I suppose you might call her a chaperone.”

“How…old fashioned,” Weiss said.

“Perhaps,” Whitley said. “But it’s not without its advantages. I get to have two girls fawning all over me instead of one.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose.

Whitley sighed. “Honestly, sister, that was a joke. When did you become so po-faced and humourless? Aren’t aspiring huntresses allowed to laugh?”

Sometimes, but only at things that are actually funny, Weiss thought, but she was too grateful to Whitley for not snidely referring to her as a former aspiring huntress to actually say so. “Those diamonds,” she said. “Do you always give Diamond Tiara things like that?”

“Fairly often,” Whitley admitted. “They looked good on her, didn’t they?”

“I suppose,” Weiss said. “But doesn’t it…don’t you ever wonder if-“

“If she’s only here because of the Schnee name and the Schnee wealth?” Whitley filled in. He laughed. “I don’t wonder it, big sister, I know it.”

Weiss blinked. “She…she told you?”

“Of course not,” Whitley said. “That would be very gauche of her. But I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“And it doesn’t worry you at all?”

“It might, if I were in danger of becoming not a Schnee,” Whitley answered airily. “But I’m not, so it doesn’t.” He laughed again. “Honestly, Weiss, do you believe that only feelings that are blind to family and circumstances ought to count? Do you think that such a thing is possible? Do you know how childishly naïve that makes you sound? We are what we are, and nobody can be unaware of that. Do you really think those riffraff you waste your time with aren’t out for everything they can get? In the whole of Atlas you won’t find a single person who isn’t looking to their own advantage first and foremost.”

If you really think that it’s because you’re not looking in the right places, Weiss thought. She felt fairly confident in saying that Twilight and her friends did not associate with Weiss because they wanted gifts or money; in fact Weiss’s wealth – when they weren’t assuming that her father had cut her off – seemed to rather embarrass them, as if they were afraid that Weiss would make the same assumption that Whitley had leapt to: Rarity, for instance, had been at great pains to make sure Weiss understood that she wasn’t charging for this dress, seemingly out of fear that Weiss might think that she was overcharging. They were so keen not to appear to be freeloading off Weiss that it was honestly beginning to make Weiss feel like a bit of a freeloader herself; if this kept up she might have to put her foot down and make it clear to them that there was a difference between paying her own way and being taken advantage of.

Although she hoped it wouldn’t come that. Twilight’s friends could be an eccentric bunch – to put it politely – but they were also very lovely people, and they’d been very welcoming to Weiss; she didn’t want to put that at risk with an argument about money if she didn’t absolutely have to.

And as for Whitley’s more general point…the idea that Blake, princess of Menagerie turned humble servant of Atlas, was out for herself was so laughable as to destroy said point in one fell swoop. And when Weiss thought of Twilight in the lab, earnest Applejack, dour and gloomy Rainbow Dash whom she had seen the least of all Twilight’s friends, or even faithful Klein puttering away to keep the house in order, she was of the opinion that, far from being the kingdom of grifters and chancers that Whitley’s words would imply, Atlas was full of people giving the best of themselves with no or very little thought for themselves; they were just the sort of people that Whitley lacked the experience – or the care – to look down and notice.

“Anyway,” Weiss said, because there was no point in saying any of that to Whitley. He probably wouldn’t understand, and anyway she didn’t want to get into an argument with her brother. To tell the truth she was glad to hear some laughter in the house for once, and if he had found some enjoyment, and someone whose company to take enjoyment in, she could hardly begrudge him that even if it wasn’t the sort of company that could have satisfied her.

She felt a little sorry for him that it did satisfy him, but at the same time she was self-aware enough to wonder if she was just being patronising with an attitude like that. “I should go. Father wants to see me.”

Whitley’s expression settled into a slightly self-satisfied smirk. “Good luck, sister.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said, as she walked around Whitley and continued through the empty, cavernous hallways, all painted in a cold blue that seemed to amplify their size and emptiness alike, all seeming so cold as if the walls and floor were made of ice instead of stone.

She reached her father’s study soon enough, and as she approached Weiss could hear raised voices from the other side of the sturdy wooden door.

“I am talking about the good of Atlas!” Jacques Schnee said. “Our entire kingdom!”

“You’re talking about the good of your company,” came the other voice, which sounded…was that General Ironwood?

“What’s good for the SDC is good for Atlas,” Jacques declared. “You may have forgotten that the prosperity of this kingdom is built upon the prosperity of the Schnee Dust Company but I have not, and neither will the people.”

Weiss opened the door a fraction. It was General Ironwood, sitting on the other side of a low table from her father. The general said, “The people? What are you saying, Jacques?”

“I’m saying that I have no intention of staying silent in the face of this folly,” Jacques said. “The destruction of the CCT wiped out millions of lien’s worth in assets or rendered them inaccessible-”

“Then I’d think that you would want-“

“Not to mention the withdrawal of your military forces from overseas locations that has probably meant the loss of countless SDC facilities to bandits or grimm,” Jacques continued. “And now you want to compound all of that by subsidising a competitor?”

“You’re exaggerating,” General Ironwood said.

“I understand that we’re paying these faunus to set up a rival dust mining operation.”

“When that happens they’ll be buying Atlesian mining equipment and hiring Atlesian expertise-“

“And paying for it all with Atlesian money!”

Weiss stepped inside the office.

“Jacques,” General Ironwood said. “I would think that you would want to see the CCT network restored as quickly as possible. Or do you enjoy sending out couriers to your facilities?”

“There is already a perfectly good tower in Vale if only you would repair it,” Jacques said. “And if the Valish don’t want you there then force the issue. And while you’re at it you can take back my facilities at Cold Harbour which have been unlawfully seized by the new government.”

“The Atlesian military does not exist to be a militia for the SDC,” General Ironwood said, with a certain chill in his voice.

“Although you’ve been happy enough to treat the SDC as the research and development arm of the Atlesian military in days gone by,” Jacques reminded him.

The door swung shut behind Weiss with an audible thud and a click of the latch which drew the attention of both men.

Her father’s stare was hard and cold. Weiss clasped her hands behind her back, which she tried to straighten.

“Miss Schnee,” General Ironwood said, as he rose to his feet. He bowed, placing one hand upon his heart. “My apologies, I should have been gone by now.”

“There’s no need to apologise, sir,” Weiss said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nevertheless, it is time I was going,” General Ironwood said. He glanced at Jacques. “I think we’ve said all that there is to say.”

“For now,” Jacques said softly.

General Ironwood stared at him for a moment. Then he simply said, “Goodbye, Jacques,” before making for the door. Weiss stepped aside for him. The general paused when he reached the door. “Miss Schnee, know that if you ever-“

“Goodbye, James,” Jacques said pointedly.

General Ironwood gave Weiss a glance that was sympathetic, but ultimately powerless as he opened the door and stepped out through it.

Once more the door swung shut, leaving Weiss alone with her father.

She shivered a little. Her father kept the study colder than the rest of the house for reasons best known to himself, but that wasn’t the only reason for Weiss’ tremor.

“Did you forget your manners while you were away?” he asked, turning away and walking back to his desk.

“I’m sorry, father,” Weiss said softly.

Jacques didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard her. “Building a whole new tower instead of repairing the old one, funding competition to the SDC, treating with an island of exiles and runaways as if they were our equals, and the hero of the hour is a robot!” he shook his head as he sat down. “The world has gone completely insane. And to think that Ironwood is feted as the victor of the battle of Vale, as though any victory could outweigh the loss of the CCT.”

“I’m sure he feels the weight of that,” Weiss said. “That’s why he wants to restore it as quickly as possible.”

Jacques sighed, as though Weiss’ opinions wearied him. “I hope you can at least appreciate the absurdity of us giving potentially vast sums of lien to Menagerie at the same time as the so-called Dragonslayer is being sent out on a publicity tour to raise money for the military. But, I suppose that it does provide an opportunity to show that the SDC has the best interests of this kingdom at heart…unlike some on the council.”

“I…don’t understand,” Weiss admitted.

“Miss Polendina is appearing at the Nicholas Schnee Concert Hall in the coming weeks, to open this tour of hers here in Atlas. In addition to a generous donation from this company, I have offered to host a fundraiser immediately following the event…and to have you sing in the concert hall before Miss Polendina’s appearance.”

Weiss frowned. “You want me to sing?”

“It will be your first public performance since you went to Beacon,” Jacques said. “A delight for your fans, something that will make a lot of people very happy and surely drive up donations.”

“I…I suppose it will,” Weiss murmured. She was reminded for a moment of Rarity, trading the needle for the sword because the latter was of more use to Atlas at that moment. Weiss would have preferred the sword, but since that was denied to her why not take up the voice instead? Atlas needed help. It needed good huntresses, but since Weiss could not be a huntress then didn’t she have an obligation to help however she could? Father was right, she hadn’t made a public appearance in some time, that might generate excitement, and donations. And it was for a good cause: Atlas didn’t need just good people, it needed guns and ships and prosthetic limbs for those like Flash who had made great sacrifices for the world and for humanity already. What right did she have to refuse simply because she wasn’t a great fan of her stage persona as Weiss Schnee, the snow angel, the princess, the perfect, untouchable songstress? What right did she have to say that such feelings mattered more to her than the good of Atlas and the world? What right did she have to put herself above the cause? “I’d better start practicing,” she said.

It was hard to tell on account of his moustache, but Weiss thought she saw her father smile. “That’s my girl.”

“So,” Blake said from out of the scroll. “I understand that Weiss Schnee is making her return to the stage.”

Weiss snorted, and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t.”

Blake frowned. “You’re not happy about this?”

“Why should I be happy about this?”

Blake’s expression was blank. “Because…I don’t really know, but I don’t see why you shouldn’t be happy about it either.”

Weiss sighed, reflecting that it wasn’t really Blake’s fault. She hadn’t known Weiss for all that long, after all, so how could she know. Nobody knew, not really; all of her new friends had only known her since she had come to Beacon, none of them had known her in the days when she was actually singing.

Plus, she wasn’t exactly open about her dislike of her time on stage. Mostly because Twilight was a fan of her music and she didn’t want to seem too churlish by disdaining it in front of the other girl. She remembered enough about professionalism to recall that you always put it away in front of the fans, especially when said fans were so friendly and obliging as Twilight.

And so Weiss began with, “Don’t tell Twilight I said this.”

“Okay,” Blake said slowly.

“It was my father’s idea that I should sing in public,” Weiss said. “I sang for my grandfather before he died, he said it…it made him feel better. I sang for my mother, too, but that was it really; I was very young at the time.” She remembered how she would spend hours, sometimes even days, practicing a new song with Laberna before proudly showing off what she’d learned to grandfather, or mother. “And then my father…first he was just showing me off to his guests at parties…and then he was showing me off to the whole kingdom.” She’d actually enjoyed it at first, being the centre of attention in the ballroom, the applause, the way everyone told her she had the most lovely voice, she sounded like an angel. And then the stages kept getting bigger and bigger, the people kept getting further and further away…the applause had rung more and more hollow in her ears. “Only it wasn’t me he was showing off, it was the idea of the perfect Schnee daughter: an ice sculpture with an angel’s voice. Serene and untouchable.”

“You’re a lot of things,” Blake said. “But serene isn’t really one of them.”

Weiss snorted. “That’s exactly my point. It wasn’t me that they wanted to see, it wasn’t me that they were celebrating. It was someone my father had made up, who just happened to have stolen my voice. The rest…the rest was the daughter he wished he had.”

“I…” Blake trailed off. “I had no idea.”

“That’s why I stopped singing when I went to Beacon,” Weiss said. “I didn’t have to. One producer tried to pitch the idea of an album called Anthems of a Huntress.”

“That sounds…tacky.”

“He showed me some of his proposed lyrics, it was very tacky,” Weiss agreed.

“I thought you wrote your own lyrics?”

“I wrote the songs that nobody listens to, like ‘Mirror, Mirror’ or the ‘Path to Isolation,’” Weiss said. They spoke to her own soul, or had done at least, but they didn’t really speak to a commercial audience in the same way. “My popular songs – even the ones that aren’t covers – are written by other people. Although the idea that I write all my own songs is another part of the image created for me. The point is…the point is that I wanted to leave all of that behind. I didn’t want to sing about a romanticised version of the life of a huntress as though I were at Beacon as their pet singer, not as a student; I didn’t want to record from my dorm room. I wanted to be a huntress, I wanted to find my own way as a huntress. And now…now not only am I not a huntress but I’m right back exactly where I didn’t want to be.”

“Do you have to do it?” Blake asked. “Your father can’t make you.”

“He can’t physically drag me up on stage if that’s what you mean,” Weiss said. “But…this isn’t about him any more than it is about me. This is about Atlas. This is about our kingdom having the resources it needs to defend itself. This is about people like you; if I can’t stand beside you in the field then at least I can help you this way.”

Blake frowned. “You shouldn’t have to do something you don’t want to because you feel a sense of obligation. You don’t owe yourself to anyone.”

“Maybe not,” Weiss said. “But I’m not so self-absorbed that I don’t realise how petty it would be to put my dislike of singing over the cause that I’m going to be singing for. Besides, I might as well do something productive. I can’t just sit around the house or go to lunch with Twilight for the rest of my life.”

“You think you’re going to be here for the rest of your life?” Blake said.

“It’s what my father would like,” Weiss said.

Blake smiled.

“What?” Weiss asked.

“You’re so strong,” Blake said. “There’s no way that cage is going to hold you forever.”

Weiss didn’t know what to say to that; it was a compliment, without a doubt, but at the same time it was the kind of compliment that was very difficult to respond to. Thank you would seem insufficient, but anything else?

Fortunately Blake rescued her from needing to say anything by continuing to speak herself. “To tell you the truth,” she admitted. “I don’t really understand why you let it hold you now.”

“Because...where would I go instead?” Weiss asked.

“Atlas,” Blake suggested, unknowingly repeating the offer that General Ironwood had not been able to finish articulating. “The kingdom needs huntresses.”

“My father would never allow that.”

“He doesn’t own you,” Blake growled softly. “Nobody owns you.”

“Actually...unfortunately...in a sense he does,” Weiss said. “I went to Beacon because he allowed it.”

“You’re not his property.”

“No, I’m his daughter,” Weiss said. “And as I am his...he may dispose of me.”

Blake’s eyes widened, even as her ears lowered with anger. “Are you...seriously? In Mistral they’d think that was ridiculously old-fashioned. Do you honestly mean to tell me that your father can just treat you like his property?”

“Who would gainsay him?” Weiss asked. “Who would stand against his wealth and power and influence for my sake.”

“You know who,” Blake whispered.

“Yes,” Weiss said. “And that’s why I won’t ask you to do it. This isn’t fighting beowolves, this is the kind of fight my father always wins.” She sighed. “But...perhaps it’s for the best in any case. My father isn’t going to be around forever, and when I’m head of the company then I can start doing the right thing, the way grandfather used to. On the other hand, if I run away from that, then the company will pass to my brother Whitley, and Whitley...won’t care, as long as the money keeps coming in.” Put like that it sounded very noble, but Weiss knew that it wouldn’t have restrained her for one moment if she had had the opportunity to get out. If she’d had somewhere else to go, somewhere she could escape her father’s reach and the peril of Atlesian law then she would have gone there in a heartbeat.

But there was no such place. Everyone she knew was in Atlas, with the arguable exception of Cardin Winchester, and even if he was willing to shelter her - which was by no means certain - Vale didn’t sound like the best place to be from the garbled rumours that were coming north to Atlas.

Everyone else she knew was in Atlas, and she could not - would not - expose them to her father’s power like that.

She changed the subject. “Would you like to come to the concert, and the reception afterwards? As my guest?”

“To see you sing even though you don’t want to?”

“To be my guest,” Weiss repeated. “Someone at my side at the after party?”

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

“You’re not selling this very well.”

“Be under no illusions, I’m not asking you because I expect you to enjoy yourself,” Weiss said. “I’m asking because…because I don’t want to be alone there.”

“There are probably other people you could ask who will appreciate it more,” Blake said.

“I’m sure they’ll get their own tickets,” Weiss said. “I know it’s a little selfish to ask, but…please?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “You won’t get in trouble for inviting a faunus?”

“I’ll be fine,” Weiss insisted. “Is that a yes?”

Blake’s lips twitched upwards. “Yes, if you want it so bad.”

“Thank you,” Weiss said. “You…I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You won’t need to do that.”

“Say that after the party.”

“You still won’t need to make it up to me,” Blake said. “What are friends for?”

“Not talking about themselves incessantly,” Weiss said. “How was your mom?”

“Very confident,” Blake said. “Or at least she seemed that way.”

“Seemed?”

Blake shrugged. “She has to be a little nervous. So much is riding on this, but…there are times when I still can’t believe this is real. Recognition, a CCT, investment. I’m only sorry that it took all of this trouble to get it.”

“I know what you mean,” Weiss said. “But at the same time…I just can’t see it ever happening any other way.” People like her father were too comfortable with the way things were; they would never have changed without the massive system shock caused by the Battle of Vale.

Father still doesn’t want to change. “Do you wish you’d gone with her?” Weiss said. “Your mother, I mean; to see your home changing in front of your eyes.”

Blake’s hesitation betrayed that, yes, a part of her did wish that, but what she said was, “No. Atlas is my home now. I’ve given my word to General Ironwood. I’m committed.”

“What’s that like?” Weiss asked. “Being a part of something bigger than yourself?”

Blake looked thoughtful. “I never feel like what I’m doing doesn’t matter,” Blake said. “Even when what I’m doing is insignificant and small; because I’m part of a great engine, and the engine is doing great things…but only if I’m at my best, and doing my best no matter small the thing I’m doing my best at is.”

“It must be nice, to wake up each morning with a sense of purpose and direction,” said Weiss, who woke up each morning with a vague sense of dread at the prospect of having to find something to do to fill twelve to sixteen hours – she’d tried going to bed early, earlier in fact that some of her bedtimes when she’d been an actual child, but she didn’t actually sleep so that only left her lying in bed feeling empty and directionless as opposed to sitting around the house feeling the same way; it wasn’t a great improvement. Twilight and the others – Blake included – did their best, but they couldn’t spend all their time with her, even on the scroll; eventually she always had to come back to his house, eventually the call always had to end. Eventually she was always left with nothing.

“I…I wish that there was something that I could say to make it all better,” Blake said. “But there isn’t. All I can say is…hang in there, as inadequate as that sounds; we’re all here for you, Weiss, whatever and even whenever. And like I said, you’re strong. Stronger than you think, maybe. You’ll get through this, I know you will.”

Weiss chuckled. “You might not know the words to make everything better,” she said. “But you know the words to make me feel better…right until I realise I’ve made everything about me again.”

“It’s fine,” Blake said.

“It really isn’t.”

“Yes, it is,” Blake said. “Am I supposed to talk about how wonderful my life is while yours…isn’t?”

“Good point, I really don’t want to hear that,” Weiss admitted. She sniggered, and after a moment Blake almost laughed too. “I’ll let you go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “I…I have a song to write for my big return. You…you could say you’ve inspired me.”

After all, Weiss Schnee’s return to the stage deserves a Weiss Schnee original.

“Okay,” Blake said, a trifle reluctantly. “Goodnight, Weiss. Don’t give up.”

“Never,” Weiss said. “Goodnight.” She hung up.

She put her scroll away, and flopped down on the bed with a sheaf of scrap paper as she began to scribble away.

I am not your pet, not another thing you own…

Twilight's Request

Twilight’s Request

Blake was a little surprised by the size of Twilight’s house.

Which wasn’t to say that it was actually a small house, or that there was anything wrong with it. It was a very nice looking house: the doors were coloured glass making a sixteen-pointed star in various shades of lavender, pink and purple upon a dark blue background; above the door was more glass decoration, and this time the same colours seemed form a rising sun cresting the horizon; those were the elements that drew Blake’s eye the most but they were only one small part of a very nice house, built of a soft purple stone that almost resembled porphyr, with the roofs tiled in a dark pink.

A nice house, and not a small one either: two storeys high, and stretching back out of Blake’s sight from where she stood before it on the street. A nice house of a reasonable size and in a nice neighbourhood too, the kind where there was space in front of the house for grass to grow, and even a pine tree planted out in front beside the driveway; the kind where there was space on either side of the house separating the Sparkle family from their neighbours.

It was a nice house, in a nice part of the city, and yet as she stood before it Blake could not help but feel a little surprise.

She supposed that that surprise was mostly rooted in her having prior experience of the Schnee Manor, beside which the Sparkle house could not help but feel, not to put too fine a point on it, tiny.

It was not that Blake had any objection to small houses, or to those who lived in them; it was not disappointment that she was feeling, more a sense of puzzlement. Twilight’s sister-in-law sat on the Council of Atlas; her brother was an officer in an elite unit – elite in a social sense, if not a combat one – and she was a family friend of General Ironwood, and sufficiently close to him to feel comfortable leveraging that connection to the benefit of Rainbow Dash.

So then why was there house, not to put too fine a point on it, not nearly as grand as Blake had imagined?

Because you forgot the fact that there’s a difference between being wealthy and being well-connected; just because the Sparkles are the latter doesn’t mean they have to be super-rich. Not every family is the Schnee family. In fact, only one family is the Schnees. Most don’t have the income of a dust empire to sustain their extravagance.

You forgot this isn’t Menagerie either. The faunus built a palace for their chieftain to do him honour; in Atlas honour comes in other forms, and is given out both more and less readily. If there were more families of note in Menagerie they would not all dwell in palaces either.

And besides, Blake realised with a pang of guilt that she had unkindly traduced General Ironwood in her assumptions about the kind of company he kept. Had he not already demonstrated, first by his patronage of Rainbow Dash and then by the way that he had forgiven Blake and taken her under his wing in turn, that he was not a man who could be blinded by riches? He would judge the man beneath the money, and Blake reckoned that the general was a good judge of men, if it didn’t flatter her too much – as one he had judged worthy of his trust – to think so.

For whatever it was worth, Blake thought that he had judged rightly in whom he reposed his trust; which was to say that she trusted them too, Twilight and her friends. Mostly that was because they seemed trustworthy, although it wasn’t entirely that; there was something about receiving General Ironwood’s trust that made you want to live up to his expectations of you, however high they might be. There was something about him that made letting him down seem like a terrible thing to inflict upon both him and yourself. Blake wondered if Sunset and Pyrrha had felt that way towards Professor Ozpin, and that was why his loss had hit them both so hard; so hard in fact that she hadn’t felt comfortable asking either of them about it before she left for Atlas.

More to the point, she wondered if that was the root of Rainbow Dash’s odd behaviour recently; it wasn’t a secret that she had fallen out of General Ironwood’s favour, even if Blake didn’t know exactly how or why it had happened. Rainbow was never around to talk about it – it might be more accurate to say that she was never around so that she never had to talk about it – and Blake still wasn’t sure that it was right for her to ask in any case. It seemed – possibly – like something that ought to be better left to her older friends.

All of which was, of course, completely irrelevant to where she was right now: standing outside Twilight Sparkle’s house, musing on increasingly tangential topics when she ought to have knocked on the door by now. Twilight would either be wondering where she was or – if she knew – wondering why Blake was just standing outside spacing out like that.

So Blake put Rainbow Dash, and General Ironwood, and the prosperity of the Sparkle family all to the back of her mind as she walked up the driveway and climbed the single step up onto the porch.

There was no door knocker, but this being Atlas there was an intercom system beside the door with a camera set at face height. Blake pressed the cold grey button beneath it.

There was a moment’s pause, before the screen burst into life, and Blake could see the image of an older woman with bags beneath her pale blue eyes, her purple hair streaked with white, wearing a necklace of large pearls tightly around her neck.

“Yes?” she asked. “Who is it?”

“Specialist, Junior-Grade Blake Belladonna, ma’am,” Blake said.

“Oh, so you’re Blake,” the woman – Twilight’s mother, presumably - said. “Yes, Twilight’s mentioned you. Are you here on business?”

“No,” Blake said. “At least, I don’t think so. Twilight asked me to come over.”

“Of course,” said Mrs Sparkle. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Blake said, before the image on the screen disappeared.

She practiced her posture while she waited, clasping her hands behind her back and standing up straight. It was…not important, exactly, except in as much as the more she looked the part the more seriously people would take her. And she wanted to be taken seriously, not just by General Ironwood but by everyone. She wasn’t here in Atlas for a lark, or to while away a season before going home. She was here for the long haul, and she meant to make a success of her chosen path. And that included looking like she belonged here. This wasn’t the White Fang, Atlesian specialists didn’t skulk in the shadows; they stood straight-backed and proud, and faced their enemies without flinching.

The door was opened by, somewhat to Blake’s surprise, Twilight, wearing a labcoat over a blue turtleneck and high, light blue boots with a pattern of white stars upon them. Her tights had what looked like a circuit board pattern on them.

None of which was quite as surprising as the fact that she had opened the door herself.

“Twilight?” asked Blake dumbly, as though there could be any doubt as to who it was.

“Hey, Blake,” Twilight said cheerily. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Uh, sure,” Blake murmured.

Twilight frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” Blake said. “I just…you answered the door.”

“Who-“ began Twilight, before cutting herself off with a knowing smile. “You know it’s incredibly rare to actually have a butler, right? They’re basically a relic of a bygone age at this point – not that being a relic of a bygone age is necessarily a bad thing, I mean Pyrrha seems really nice – but most people are pretty capable of answering their own front door for visitors; and getting drinks when they want them.” She paused. “Most families aren’t the Schnees.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Blake said. “Although I would have thought that you’d maybe have robot butlers.”

“It’s probably possible,” Twilight admitted. “But the amount of programming that would need to go into a sophisticated android like that…it’s just not worth it when you can just get up out of your chair and answer the door. Most people don’t mind a little bit of exercise.” She paused. “Although it would be fascinating to try and build one, just as a theoretical. It would need to be a step up, much closer to Penny than to an AK-200, able to recognise individuals and household objects, possibly even read emotional indicators…” Twilight laughed nervously. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Blake said, smiling. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe, but it’s not why I asked you here,” Twilight said. She hesitated. “You never noticed me answer the door any of the other times you’ve come here.”

Blake blinked. “This is the first time I’ve been to your house.”

“Really?” Twilight responded. “I’ve never invited you here before? Wow, I’m really sorry about that. You should come over for dinner sometime.”

“You don’t have to invite me for dinner,” Blake said. “Or feel sorry because you haven’t invited me to your house before. Although if you invited me in off the porch step-“

“Oh, right!” Twilight exclaimed. “Of course, come right in.”

“Thanks,” Blake said, stepping inside as Twilight made way for her, entering a house that was tastefully decorated in various cool shades of blue and purple.

Twilight shut the door behind her. “You don’t have to come over for dinner if you don’t want to,” she said. “But if you did then my parents never mind me having guests over.”

“Sure,” Blake said. “That sounds nice. But I’m sure you didn’t ask me over so that you could belatedly realise that this was the first time you asked me over.”

Twilight chuckled. “No, I didn’t. Can we talk in the lab?”

“You have a lab?”

Twilight nodded. “Shining Armour got a training room – although it doesn’t get a lot of use since he moved out – and I got a lab. Come on, it’s this way.”

Blake followed Twilight through the house. Bookshelves predominated, intermingled with a variety of family photographs in gilt, slightly old-fashioned picture frames: Twilight and Shining Armour as children with their parents; Twilight looking delighted as she held a smaller Spike in her arms; Twilight and Shining Armour closer to their present ages with the same; Shining Armour in dress uniform; Twilight in a scholar’s gown beaming as she held up a paper diploma of some sort; Shining Armour and Cadance, on their wedding day judging by their dress; a photograph of a larger wedding party, including all of Twilight’s friends and General Ironwood.

“Why does Rainbow Dash have her guns out in that picture?” Blake asked.

Twilight made a sound that was partway between a chuckle and a tsk of distaste. “Did Rainbow never tell you that story? About how Shining Armour and Cadance’s wedding was attacked by the Wh- you know, maybe it isn’t such a good story, after all.”

“Twilight,” Blake said. “I’m not part of the White Fang any more, and I know full well what they became under Sienna’s leadership, I don’t need you to walk on eggshells as though I’m going to get offended by the suggestion that they-“ Something clicked in Blake’s mind. “Wait a second, that was you guys?”

Twilight stopped, framed in the light of a window that – like all of the windows in the Sparkle house seemed to be – was made of decorated glass. “What was who guys?”

“You were there,” Blake said. “At the Council abduction fiasco, when the commander of the Atlas chapter attempted to abduct and replace an Atlesian councillor during…her wedding?” Blake had heard it was a state function, but then the only reports that had reached the other chapters had been garbled ones, borne second or third hand passed from those who been at ground zero to messengers who, in turn, had often passed the tale onto other messengers, becoming less and less precise with every passage.

“You know about that?” Twilight replied. “General Ironwood hushed the whole thing up; he said it would embolden our enemies if they knew how close they’d come to success.”

“He was half right,” Blake admitted. Chrysalis’ gamble had split opinions in the White Fang down the middle: to some she was a cautionary tale of overreach and the cost of too much ambition; to others she was a hero and an example to be emulated of one who dared to strike a meaningful and resounding blow against their foes, someone not content to settle for pinprick blows that their enemies barely seemed to feel. Blake had been in the former camp, Adam very much in the latter. “And that reaction would have been even stronger if they’d know that we almost got the general, too.”

“Oh, General Ironwood wasn’t there when the trap was sprung,” Twilight explained. “But as we tried to rescue Cadance and Shining Armour I was able to make contact with them, and he…well, we managed to rescue Cadance and my brother but we would have been in a lot of trouble if the general hadn’t arrived when he did.”

“This all sounds like a fascinating story,” Blake said.

“It is – if you like your stories about what ought to be joyous family moments disturbed by sinister villains and their schemes,” Twilight growled softly. “But anyway, Rainbow Dash tells it a lot better than I do…” she trailed off. “That’s, uh, that’s kind of what I…come on, let’s go into my lab.”

“Sure,” Blake agreed with a nod of her head.

The lab turned out to be behind the house, in a large outbuilding in the back garden reached by heading out the back door and crossed the stepping stone-like path that bridged the gap between the two. Twilight placed her thumb on top of a scanner, then bent down and pushed her glasses up out of the way so that she could get a retinal scan as well.

“Tight security,” Blake observed.

Twilight laughed nervously. “I, uh, I sometimes take some of my work home with me to carry on after hours. Please don’t mention that to too many people.”

Blake’s lip twitched upwards. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Not to mention all the stuff that I work on unofficially,” Twilight continued, as the door clicked open.

“Like your armour?”

“Exactly,” Twilight said. “I built that here – and we used the training room again when Shining Armour showed me a few moves – and even though it wasn’t a sanctioned project it isn’t the kind of thing you’d want just anyone to be able to get their hands on.”

Blake was inclined to agree, although of course if anyone had wanted to get their hands on any of Twilight’s experiments that badly they would have found ways to circumvent her security. There wasn’t much point in mentioning that, however; no security system was infallible, no matter how well designed or what it was supposed to be guarding.

Twilight opened the door and walked into the lab, and would have disappeared into the darkness within. As it was, Blake’s feline eyes were able to keep Twilight in view as she followed the other girl inside the large, cluttered space filled with all manner of advanced-looking machines - most notably the egg-shaped pod that dominated the centre of the lab – illuminating the laboratory with a cornucopia of flashing lights in blue, green, red and purple, connected by heavy, almost industrial power cords with plugs and connections larger than Twilight’s hands. Workbenches were laden with a baffling – to Blake at least – array of parts and tools. A picture of Twilight and her friends formed the desktop of her computer, half hidden behind the icons of all the files and folders.

Spike bounded up to his owner; his green hair appeared to have grown by at least a foot since Blake had seen him last, it now formed a massive spike rising above his head; he was also dressed in a little miniature labcoat, with black gloves over his forepaws and goggles over his eyes. Blake was not at all a dog person, but…okay, that was pretty adorable.

As was the way that he jumped up into Twilight’s arms and started nuzzling her face. “Okay, Spike, I was only gone a minute.”

Spike barked.

“But I missed you too, of course I did.”

Blake considered that the most adorable thing of all about Spike right now was the way that he was paying absolutely no attention to Blake herself whatsoever. That was just the way she liked it when it came to dogs.

She wandered over to the nearest workbench, where a photograph of a boy sat beside an open book. He was a young man about their age, a rugged outdoor type judging by the way he was dressed and the fact that he had an axe resting on his shoulder.

Blake picked it up. “Who’s this?”

“Who? Oh, him?” Twilight stammered, blushing furiously. “He’s, uh, he’s just a, uh, a guy I know. From the, uh, the mandatory training camp we attended before graduating from Canterlot.”

Blake decided to spare Twilight’s blushes, and refrained from asking any more questions about him as she put down the picture. “So, what are you working on?”

“Officially?” asked Twilight quickly.

“Here,” Blake clarified. “I’m not asking you to reveal anything classified.”

“Oh, this and that,” Twilight answered.

Blake ducked as a drone flew out of the darkness and buzzed over her head, rotors whirring.

“Like that,” Twilight said. “Sorry, Aloysius likes to get visitors.”

Blake stood up, getting a better look at the drone now that it had stopped moving and was hovering in the air above her. It looked almost like a very, very miniaturised bullhead, with a squat, slightly rounded central body sustained in flight by a pair of engines that could turn either vertical or horizontal depending on how they wanted to move the drone. Blue lights flashed over the central body. “Is it armed?”

“Aloysius isn’t,” Twilight said. “But I’ve got some that are: miniaturised rotary machine-guns– only small calibre ammo, but at a very high rate of fire – micro-grenades, a lightning dust-powered shock discharge at close range…do you want one?”

“Tempting,” Blake said. “But I’ll pass. It doesn’t really suit my combat style.”

“I also have some that are designed for remote hacking,” Twilight said. “And of course their capabilities for reconnaissance from a safe distance are probably the biggest benefit of all.”

“I can imagine,” acknowledged Blake. “But I’m not really a ‘hang back and direct a drone’ kind of a huntress.”

Twilight seemed to deflate a little at that. “That’s the problem: none of the huntresses I know are ‘hang back and direct a drone’ kinds of huntresses.”

“Maybe they could be used by the regular military?” Blake suggested. “Or by the Military Huntsmen,” she added, referring to those Combat School graduates who for whatever reason didn’t quite make the grade when it came to entrance into Atlas Academy, but whose training in the huntsman skills still made them valuable assets to Atlas; they formed an elite company attached to each regular infantry battalion, like the flank companies of centuries past - the centuries past that formed the setting for some of Blake’s favourite bodice rippers, to be precise, with titles like The Grenadier’s Bride or The Valish Sharpshooter’s Lover.

“You might be right,” Twilight said. “I was just hoping…I go to work for the good of Atlas; I work in here to help my friends…and Spike,” she added, as a feminine-looking robot dog emerged from behind the large pod in the centre of the laboratory. It’s nose was flashing red as it walked slowly and carefully across the floor towards Spike, who bounded playfully up to the canine android with what, as far as Blake could tell, was a happy expression.

Blake looked at the two dogs, one real and the other artificial; then she looked back at Twilight. Her eyebrows rose.

“He was a little lonely,” Twilight squawked defensively. She coughed into her hand. “Anyway, I’ve also been working on some things that my friends might actually use, like this bracelet.” She picked up a chunky black cuff from off the workbench behind her. “The idea is to channel Rarity’s semblance through it, so that using her barriers doesn’t immobilise her or require the use of one hand. I thought she could use it to create a sort of shield or buckler for herself.”

“Smart, if it works,” Blake said. “Although I can’t really see Rarity wearing something like that.”

“Oh, I’m going to paint in gold once it works,” Twilight assured her. “And I’ve designed it in such a way that decoration won’t impair the effects.”

Blake nodded. Her eyes travelled up past the bracelet in Twilight’s hand to the blueprints of a wingsuit. “And that? Upgrades to Dash’s wings?”

“I have one or two ideas,” Twilight admitted. “Though I’d need to pry the wings away from Rainbow Dash first. Which would mean I’d need to get her to speak to me again.” She bit her lip, and set the bracelet back down on the bench before she folded her arms across her chest. “That’s, uh, that is…ooh, if you want to see what I’ve been working on you should also take a look at this.“ She gestured to her right; Blake could recognise an attempt at distraction so glaringly obvious, but she felt no compulsion to push Twilight on whatever it was, and so she allowed her gaze to be drawn to her left, away from the blueprint for possible upgrades to Rainbow Dash’s wings to a large map of Solitas pinned up beside it; what made Blake pay attention to it was that the map was covered in pins jabbed into the paper in particular locations, and beneath almost every pin – obscuring whole sections of the map – were cuttings or printouts of news articles of various kinds, while post-it notes littered the edges of the map or cluttered the oceans around the continent. Lines of red string streaked from place to place, clearly forming some kind of pattern albeit not one that Blake could readily determine.

She walked slowly across the laboratory towards it. “What is this?”

“My magical research,” declared Twilight. “I’ve moved from tracking Maiden sightings to tracking paranormal phenomena more generally.”

Blake blinked. “Maiden sightings?”

“That’s clearly what I saw when I was a child,” Twilight said as though it were obvious. “A Maiden – the Winter Maiden, presumably – rescued my family from that grimm attack. That’s my working hypothesis, anyway, given what I know now about magic…although I am keeping an open mind because who is to say that the Maidens represent the only magically empowered individuals in the whole of Remnant?”

“Professor Ozpin,” Blake suggested. “And General Ironwood.”

“Both of whom have access to a great deal of information, but they’re not omniscient,” Twilight countered. “The fact is that I don’t believe that the four maidens represent the only magic in the world, there’s simply too much evidence that can’t be explained by the existence of the seasonal maidens. For example: ten years ago a trainee huntsman lost on a night exercise in the Everfree Forest reported that an ethereal woman appeared in front of him without warning; according to his report she asked if he was a soldier of Mantle and, when he replied that he was a soldier of Atlas, she gave him directions back to his camp and then vanished again as suddenly as she had appeared.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t seeing things in the dark?”

“No, I can’t be sure, but he found his way back to camp following her directions,” Twilight said. “And it’s not the only reported instance of a ghostly woman – and it is always a woman, with several commonalities in the description allowing for the vagaries of different people interpreting something they only saw for a short while – appearing to soldiers who are lost or otherwise in need. Sixteen years ago a squad of Military Huntsman holed up in a cave with a large pride of sabyrs outside reported that this phantom healed one of their wounded comrades, stabilising his condition so that he was still alive when they were rescued.”

“Sounds more like they were lucky,” Blake suggested.

“I think there’s more to it than that,” Twilight said. “We know that magic is real-“

“Magic, yes, but not ghosts,” Blake replied. “Nothing that we’ve learned about what’s really going on in the world suggests anything like that, and just because there is more going on in the world than we first thought doesn’t mean that every fairy story has a basis in truth.”

“I know that,” Twilight said. “But wouldn’t it be fascinating if they were?”

“Personally, I prefer to look at fairy tales through literary analysis than wonder what historical evidence we can glean from them,” Blake said. “In not being true they become real, if that makes sense. These stories were invented to tell us something, and they’ve survived because they continue to have the ability to tell us something worth paying attention to; they have applicability to our lives. But if it turns out that all the stories – just like the story of the seasons – is just a record of something that happened to someone once…how is that supposed to teach us anything?” Blake paused for a moment. “But anyway, I think you were about to tell me why you asked me here?”

Twilight hesitated. “I was?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “Although I’m not sure that you wanted to. Twilight, is everything okay? Is something wrong?”

“No and yes,” Twilight said. “I mean everything is not okay and something is wrong.” She took a deep breath. “I asked you here…I need you to do me…Blake, can you do us a favour and talk to Rainbow Dash?”

Blake frowned. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Something’s up with her,” Twilight said. “Ever since we got back from Vale she’s been morose, broody, she’s more short-tempered than usual – you saw what happened at the party. She’s distant…I haven’t seen her in a while, nobody has. Pinkie…it’s really starting to get to her. Has she said anything to you?”

“I haven’t seen any more of Rainbow Dash than you have,” Blake said.

“But you’re roommates,” Twilight protested.

“Which is why she leaves early and comes back late,” Blake said. “She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to anybody, it seems like,” said Twilight. “But that doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t talk to anyone. There’s something wrong and I, and we…look, I know that this is very selfish but could you go and talk to her? Find out what’s wrong, see if there’s anything that any of us can do to help?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Blake asked. “Are you sure that this isn’t something that Dash needs to work out for herself?”

“No,” Twilight said. “I don’t know because I don’t know what the problem is, but I do know…that is I don’t think that you should leave a friend to face their problems all alone.”

“Then why don’t you talk to her?” Blake asked.

“Because…because you’re a huntress,” Twilight admitted. “As much as we all love Rainbow Dash, there will always be a part of her life that we don’t really understand as much as I tried to; and I think that it’s the huntress part of her life that is the source of the trouble, considering the circumstances. I suppose you might call me a coward, call us all cowards even, but I really do think – at least I hope – that you’ll be able to understand her, get through to her, because in some ways you do understand her, at least that part of her, better than we can.”

“Applejack’s a huntress too,” Blake pointed out.

“I know,” Twilight acknowledged. “But Applejack…Applejack’s worried that this is her fault, that Rainbow Dash blames her for taking her place in General Ironwood’s confidence. She’s afraid that if she tries to interfere she’ll only make things worse.” She sighed. “If you don’t want to do it-“

“I didn’t say that,” Blake replied. “Although I can see how it might have seemed that way. I’m just surprised that you would ask me, when I’ve known her for so much less time than any of you…but now that you explain it I can understand why. And I can understand…I’m worried about her too. I just wasn’t sure that it was my place to interfere until now.”

“And now?” Twilight asked.

“Now…” Blake hesitated for a moment. It seemed as though she had always felt like it wasn’t her place to interfere when it came to watching her friends spiral out of control, losing their better selves to the darkness within. Adam, Ilia, even Sienna Khan; she had watched all of them succumb to bitterness and anger, the noble intentions with which they had set out curdling into a desire for revenge against anything and everyone connected with their oppression and their pain. She watched it happen time and again and every time she had told herself that it wasn’t her place to interfere, that they wouldn’t appreciate it, that they needed to work these things out for themselves.

No more. Not here. Not Rainbow Dash.

“I’ll talk to her,” Blake promised. “And I’ll try and persuade her to talk to the rest of you as well.” If necessary she would persuade her by dragging her into Sugarcube Corner tied to a post.

She wasn’t going to lose Rainbow Dash. She wasn’t going to lose another friend to the poison of anger. She wasn’t going to stand by and watch another hero fall from grace.

Rainbow Dash didn’t turn her back on me when I was lost. How can I do any less for her?

“Yes!” Twilight cried. “Thank you, Blake. I know that I don’t have any right-“

“You’ve got every right,” Blake said. “You’re my friend, and so is Dash…and I’ve left her alone for too long. I…I don’t know what kind of darkness she’s in, but I won’t stop until I’ve helped her. It’s the least I owe her.”

And all the others whom I failed to save.

Rainbow Lollipops

Rainbow Lollipops

One Month earlier…

Rainbow Dash knelt on the floor of General Ironwood’s office. Blake knelt upon her left, and Penny upon her right.

Ciel wasn’t with them; it was a great honour to swear their oaths as huntresses before General Ironwood himself, but it was an honour that Ciel had declined; honour was less important to her than her faith, and so she was taking her oath tonight at some church in Atlas.

The other two huntresses of Team RSPT, plus Blake, had accepted the general’s generous invitation. No matter how unworthy they were to receive it.

That last thought was more for Rainbow Dash than for either of the two companions who knelt beside her. No one could doubt the worth of Penny Dragonslayer, hero of Atlas and saviour of Vale – at least as far as Atlas saw it, and they were back in Atlas, so who else’s opinion mattered? – to not only bear the name of huntress but also to be given that title by none other than the illustrious General Ironwood himself. As for Blake, while her deeds were less grand and glorious, she had played her part as well as anyone and better than many. She had been at the Breach, she had been present at the capture of Roman Torchwick, she had protected Cadance from the White Fang.

And she had committed herself to Atlas, heart, body and soul; at the moment, that felt like more than Rainbow Dash could say for herself.

No, the question of worth or the lack of it did not surround Penny or Blake. They only belonged to Rainbow Dash, who had known the truth for so long and done nothing. Who had by her silence betrayed the man who had believed in her more than any other, and done more for her than any other.

It was a good thing that she was knelt upon the floor with her head bowed. She didn’t think that she could stand to look at him right now without cringing away in shame.

“Are you prepared?” General Ironwood asked.

“Yes, sir,” Blake whispered.

“Ready, general,” Penny declared.

No, I’m not ready at all. “Yes, sir,” Rainbow lied.

There was a moment’s pause before the general spoke again. “By Winter,” he said. “I charge you to endure all hardships, on behalf of all those who cannot endure.”

“By Winter, I swear that I shall be a shield for Atlas and for all mankind,” the three young huntresses declared as one. “I shall bear all blows, and withstand the biting of the wind and the fierce fangs of the enemies of Atlas; I shall stand between my kingdom and misfortune, and no foe shall pass me while I live.”

“By Spring,” General Ironwood said. “I charge you to master your fears and go forth to battle against all darkness.”

“By Spring, I swear I shall make courage my sword, and with it I shall strike down all those who dare to raise their arms against the power of Atlas.”

“By Summer,” said General Ironwood. “I charge you to bring hope to those who have none, and to be a light in dark places for all those whom you fight for.”

“By Summer, I swear that I shall be a light in dark places, when all other lights go out,” the young huntresses vowed. “And with that light I shall burn away the shadows that gather all around us until none remain.”

General Ironwood took pause again, for a moment or two. “By Fall,” he said. “I charge you to be upright, just and honourable, to be the benchmarks of virtue and the exemplars of all our values.”

“By Fall,” Blake said, and Penny too. “I swear that I shall uphold all the values of Atlas until my dying breath; that I shall be generous to my friends, fierce to my enemies, and just and honourable to all the world; that I shall be loyal, faithful, true and honest to my superior officers; that I shall be kind to those who shelter under my protection; that as I have sworn to be a light, I shall be a light worth emulating.” Blake sighed when she was done, as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, as though she had been washed clean of all her past sins and now stood reborn in grace and virtue.

Only Rainbow did not speak; she alone of the three of them was silent. She could not say it. She could not complete the oath. The words stuck in her craw, as if they were aware of her guilty little secret and sought to prevent her from giving false oath. For how could she swear an oath when she had already broken it? Faithful, true and honest? She had already proved that she was none of those things when she had betrayed General Ironwood for Sunset’s sake. A good man, a second father to her and she had lied to him for months for Sunset Shimmer! She had lied, she had been disloyal, and she had betrayed everything that a huntress – still less a huntress of Atlas – ought to stand for.

Everything that Applejack, Maud, Spearhead, her friends who had helped her reach this point stood for.

She had betrayed the trust not only of General Ironwood but…of everyone who had ever trusted her.

“Rainbow Dash?” General Ironwood said. “Is something wrong?”

I don’t deserve to take this oath. I don’t deserve to wear this uniform. Rainbow squirmed on the ground where she knelt. She found her voice, stammering and stumbling. “By Fall,” she said, slowly and softly and so uncertainly she was like a newborn filly stumbling as she tried to walk. “I swear that I shall…shall uphold all the values…the values of Atlas until my dying breath; that I shall be generous to my friends, fierce to my enemies, and just…just and honourable to all the world; that I shall be….loyal…faithful…true…and…honest to my superior officers; that I shall be kind to those who shelter under my protection; that as I have sworn to be a light, I shall be…I shall be…I shall be a light worth emulating.” Some chance of that now.

While Blake seemed to have felt blessed and renewed by having completed the oath, Rainbow only felt as though the weight upon her shoulders had increased until she was in danger of being crushed by it.

“Do swear, faithfully and honourably, to bear true allegiance to the Kingdom of Atlas, its councillors and the officers appointed under them, that you will, as in duty bound, honestly and faithfully defend the Kingdom of Atlas and all its citizens in person, honour and dignity against all enemies, and will obey all orders of the generals and officers set over you?”

“I, Blake Belladonna-“

“I, Rainbow Dash-“

“I, Penny Polendina-“

“Do solemnly make that oath,” they declared.

“You knelt as children,” General Ironwood said. “Now, as a huntsman and an officer of the Kingdom of Atlas, I bid you rise as huntresses, and as Specialists Junior-Grade in the Atlesian military. Congratulations.”

It ought to have been one of the happiest moments of Rainbow Dash’s life, but as she got to her feet, a huntress and a specialist, all she could feel in her mouth was bitterness.

And it was all directed at herself.

"And they hop?" Fluttershy said. "Like bunny rabbits?"

"Yeah," Blake said, albeit with a touch of uncertainty in her voice. "Like very big, territorial, occasionally dangerous bunny rabbits. And they have these pouches where…"

Rainbow Dash tuned out the rest of what Blake was saying. She was sitting on the couch, holding forth to an enraptured Fluttershy and Rarity about Menagerie, the homeland of the faunus, alternating between descriptions of all the weird wildlife they had way down under, and the different kind of fancy fashions that the faunus wore. Maybe holding forth was a little bit strong; everything was pretty hesitant, couched in 'it's a little like' or 'from what I remember' because Blake wasn't a fashion expert and it had been a while since she'd last set foot on Menagerie, never mind seen any of the crazy critters she was trying to tell Fluttershy about. But Rarity and Fluttershy both seemed to be getting a lot out of it, and Rainbow was sure that someone would come to Blake's rescue if she looked like she needed the assist.

But she wouldn't get it from Rainbow Dash; she wasn't feeling in the mood for that right now.

She wasn't feeling in the mood for much of anything, least of all a graduation party, but here she was in the living room – which also included the kitchen – of the apartment that Pinkie shared with her sister Maud when the latter was in town, with music echoing off the walls.

It was a pretty big apartment, so big that the only explanation for how a student and an assistant in a mom and pop store could afford it was that their parents were helping them out, but it wasn't big enough for Rainbow Dash right now.

She really didn't want to be here. She didn't want to be listening to this music, she didn't want to be eating this cake, she didn't want to be celebrating this thing that she had no right to have, let alone celebrate. How was she supposed to celebrate becoming a huntress when she had no right to even be a huntress? How was she supposed to celebrate with her friends when so many better people weren't around to celebrate with their friends? When their pictures were pinned up on the These Are My Jewels memorial because of what she'd done, or not done?

Because this was partly Maud's apartment, the party included Maud's friend Starlight and her two non-traitor team-mates, because it would have been rude to have invited Starlight but not them. Twilight was in the middle of an animated conversation with Sunburst, while Starlight hovered in a vaguely jealous way nearby, occasionally saying something to Maud who seemed okay with being otherwise ignored. Trixie was entertaining the kid sisters with a self-aggrandising story about her great and powerful exploits, interleaved with the magic tricks that she was genuinely pretty good at. Ciel had politely declined the invitation – something Rainbow wished she'd had the guts to do – because she was going out to dinner with her folks. Penny was dancing, while Applejack had been talking to Pinkie…only Applejack was on her own right now which meant that Pinkie was-

"Hey, Rainbow Dash!" Pinkie declared as she suddenly appeared at Rainbow's side. "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Uh, yeah," Rainbow lied. She forced some laughter out of her mouth. "It's as great as always."

Pinkie blinked. "You don't look like you're having fun. You're standing here against this wall all by yourself."

Rainbow turned ever so slightly away from Pinkie, hoping that she would take the hint. "I just wanted to be alone for a little while."

"But why?" Pinkie pressed. "Do you not like the music?"

"The music's fine, I just-"

"Then is it the cake? Because if you don't like the cake then I can make you something-"

"There's nothing wrong with the cake, Pinkie, I just…I should go," Rainbow said, as she started to make her way to the door.

"Go?" Pinkie repeated. She grabbed at Rainbow's arm to stop her from leaving. "But you can't go now; we're only just getting started."

Rainbow half-turned back to Pinkie, glaring at Pinkie's hand upon her arm. "Pinkie, let go of my arm."

"Not until you tell me what's gotten into you."

"Pinkie," Rainbow growled. "You need to let go now."

Pinkie pouted. "Rainbow Dash, I planned this party to celebrate your-"

"Well I didn't ask for any stupid party and I didn't want one either!" Rainbow snapped, throwing her plate with its mostly uneaten slice of cake across the room. It hit one of the baby blue walls; the plate shattered with a tinkling sound as the wall was stained by the cake which fell with a plop to the floor.

Everyone was staring at them now as Pinkie recoiled, releasing Rainbow from her grip. "S-stupid?" Pinkie murmured, her voice suddenly very childlike.

"People died, Pinkie," Rainbow declared. "People died, good people. And I can't stand here and eat cake and pretend that everything's fine and those people didn't die because…because I got lucky enough not to be one of them. I can't do it."

Tears began to well in Pinkie's innocent blue eyes. "I only wanted to make you happy," she whispered.

Rainbow cringed as guilt stabbed her through the heart as sharp as any dagger. Everyone was staring at her, wide-eyed and open mouthed; some of them were looking at her accusingly, and it wasn't as though she didn't deserve it.

"I should go," she repeated, and left the apartment before anyone else could try to stop her, slamming the door behind her as she walked quickly – only a little shy of running – down the corridor and started down the stairs to the base and exit from the apartment block.

"Now what in the hay was that?"

Rainbow turned on the stairs, to see Applejack at the top, glowering down at her.

Rainbow scowled. "Tell Pinkie I'm sorry for what I said, but-"

"First, if you're sorry you can come back and tell her yourself," Applejack said. "Second, you know if anybody else talked to Pinkie like that, you'd be the first one to call them out on it, so just what in tarnation is eatin' you?"

"I can't tell you that,” Rainbow said. “But...I will go back up and apologise to Pinkie,” she conceded, as she began to trudge back up the stairs.

I guess it’s the least that I can do, since I don’t have the courage to say goodbye.

Present Day…

The Mantle School Run had a reputation amongst huntsmen and huntresses as being the milkiest of all milk runs. Deep in the second heart of Atlas, holding a big red STOP sign while all the kids crossed the road was no great test of even an inexperienced huntsman’s abilities, and the chance of anything worse than an impatient driver was practically nil. This was Mantle, and as Rainbow Dash waited at the first crossing for the children to arrive she did so while under the shadow of the Defiant, flagship of the Mantle Squadron, the rest of which she could just about make out through the smog and the haze thrown up by Mantle’s industry to choke the sky; and in between the rising towers and the smoke-belching chimneys Rainbow could catch glimpses of Mantle’s final and highest wall in all its might.

Mantle didn’t have a large hinterland like Vale, and so unlike, Vale it didn’t have a defensive line way out beyond the boundaries of the city proper at which the grimm could be stopped – or tried to be stopped, at least -- what it did have was a triple layer of walls, each wall higher and better supplied with turrets and gun emplacements and the like than the one in front of it and the space between each walls as perfect a killing ground as Atlesian science and technology could devise. Nothing was getting past the Colton Walls in one piece, and certainly nothing was doing so to trouble the little kids on their way to school.

No, this was a milk run, and the fact that Rainbow Dash was standing here with her STOP sign tooled up to go to war, with her wings strapped across her back and chest, her auto-pistols in their holsters and a shotgun slung behind her was not indicative of the fact that she expected to use any of these weapons. In fact, she could understand why a lot of huntsmen on this assignment left their weapons at home for this one, but she was a huntress -- and an Atlesian Specialist, however unworthy of the title -- and she meant to be ready for anything that might come her way, however unlikely.

Plus, it made her look kind of ridiculous, and looking ridiculous was half the point of this exercise: since she couldn’t find a mission on the job board that might kill her, she had started looking for ones that would murder her pride and put it through a mincing machine instead.

You see, the Mantle School Run had a reputation as a milk run, but amongst huntsmen and huntresses – particularly young huntsmen and huntresses – that wasn’t the only reputation that this particular assignment had: this was the assignment where you would get to meet the Mantle Moms.

Although who exactly the Mantle Moms were – beside the fact that they were moms who lived in Mantle, obviously – was a little harder to get a handle on. Rufus had seemed to have a grand old time taking this mission on; he said the ladies gave him lasagnes and now he had a freezer full of them. On the other hand, Sunburst had come back from a few days on the School Run looking more traumatised than he had been after the Battle of Vale – seriously, dude looked like he’d seen some stuff – and Starlight had been angrily insistent that he was never doing that again.

Rainbow doubted that she was that upset over lasagne. No, these ladies seemed to appreciate having a huntsman around if you- oh, gods that sounded gross just in her head. Poor Sunburst, he really wasn’t the kind of guy for that; Rainbow didn’t doubt that there were some huntsmen who would take this mission on and come away with a scroll full of numbers – someone like Flynt, rest his soul – but mild-mannered, slightly put-upon Sunburst wasn’t one of them.

Rainbow wasn’t one of them either, even leaving gender aside. She didn’t know how the Mantle Moms would react to having a huntress around, but whatever they did to her would probably be no less than she deserved.

She deserved a lot after all.

“Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow turned, to see Blake walking quickly towards her down the sidewalk. Rainbow scowled, but unfortunately, Blake had been really sneaky about this; Rainbow couldn’t leave her post until the children arrived and the mission actually started, so until that happened, Rainbow was stuck here…with Blake.

It was irritatingly clever.

Although why she wanted to corner Rainbow Dash was a lot less clear than how she had done it.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Rainbow demanded as Blake approached.

“I pulled your mission logs,” Blake said simply.

“Of course you did,” Rainbow muttered. “Why, though? What are you doing here? This isn’t a mission that requires two huntresses.”

“I’m not here to help you walk the children to school,” Blake said with a touch of impatience in her voice. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Why?” Rainbow demanded in a surly tone.

“Because that!” Blake said loudly. “Because we’re supposed to be roommates and the most I ever see of you is a shadow in the dark when you come back at night, because you’ve been acting out ever since we got back from Vale, because your friends asked me to come and speak to you because you’ve been ignoring them ever since graduation. Because you were there when we promised Twilight that we’d all stay friends, but ever since, you’ve been ignoring everyone who cares about you. Because they’re scared for you, and they’re worried about you, and so, they asked me to talk to you about what’s up. And don’t tell me that nothing at all is up. because I know better. I don’t need to know you as well as Twilight to know that something’s wrong.”

Rainbow snorted. “Sometimes, Twilight could stand to mind her own business.”

“That doesn’t sound like you either,” Blake insisted. “Rainbow Dash, what is going on?”

Rainbow scowled. She looked away from Blake. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You should go; this kind of mission is beneath you.”

“Beneath me?” Blake repeated. “What about protecting children, about reassuring people that they're safe from the grimm, could possibly be beneath me?”

“People don’t need a huntress to reassure them that they’re safe,” Rainbow said. “They can just look up at that cruiser. Any bum could hold this sign.”

“Then why do they pay a huntsman to do it?”

“Because they’re stupid, how should I know what people in Mantle are thinking?” Rainbow yelled.

Blake folded her arms. “We both swore to bring hope, and light into dark places.”

“I remember the oath we swore,” Rainbow muttered.

“This?” Blake said. “This is exactly the kind of thing that huntresses should be doing, and if you don’t see that, then maybe I should stick around.”

Rainbow smirked. “You want to hold my sign?”

“I want to know why, if you think so little of this mission, you took it,” Blake said coldly.

“Forget Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to mind your own business.”

Blake's ears flattened angrily against the top of her head. "Why? Because I care about you?"

"Because I don't need you, or anybody else, to tell me what an Atlesian huntress is supposed to be," Rainbow snapped. "And I certainly don't need you to tell me all the ways that I'm not measuring up!" She was not quite so lost as to say this out loud, but a part of her couldn't help bitterly wondering how it was that Blake Belladonna, of all people – Menagerie-born, White Fang terrorist – was now in a position to look down on her for not upholding the ideals of Atlas that she now embodied so effortlessly.

Because I betrayed those ideals, that's how.

Blake's expression softened. "'Not measuring'…you have to start making more sense than this; you have to talk to me."

"Maybe I don't want to talk to you or to anybody else."

"Too bad," Blake said sharply. "You know…I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

Rainbow glanced at her out of the side of her eyes, waiting for her to explain what she meant by that.

"When I was…with the White Fang," Blake murmured, and even now her voice wasn't free of guilt whenever she brought that up. "I used to think that the soldiers of Atlas were…I'll be honest, I thought that even the ones who weren't actual robots were kind of…robotic. Automatons, heartless, even a little soulless, obeying the orders of your corporate paymasters without question."

Rainbow scowled. "You know, in spite of what Sienna Khan might have told you, we are not an outsourcing of SDC Corporate Security. We are…" she thought about how Cadance had phrased it once, praising her for the path that she was embarking on when she got into Atlas. The praise stung her soul now, but the words were ringing nevertheless. "We are the embodiment of the kingdom at war."

"I know," Blake said. "Well, maybe not that part specifically, but I know that you're not SDC. You're so much more than that and so much better than I could have imagined. You showed me what it meant to be an Atlesian huntress, to be a part of something great and powerful, an engine of good and change without sacrificing myself."

"Ciel-"

"Isn't the one who inspired me to be here," Blake said. "You are."

Rainbow snorted disdainfully. "Why? Because I'm a faunus?"

"Yes," Blake replied unabashedly. "I thought that being a faunus in the service of Atlas would mean constant compromises with who I was, but you…you proved me so wrong about that. And…and after the Breach, when I was wounded in more ways than just my hand…you made me get the help that I needed. I'm standing here because you didn't give up on me, either when I was in interrogation or when I was in hospital…and so I'm not going to give up on you, and I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me."

"Gee, thanks," Rainbow replied with evident sarcasm. "So why you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if Twilight's so worried about me why doesn't she come down here herself?" Rainbow demanded.

"Do you think I'm lying about that?" asked Blake, her voice prickling at the suggestion.

"I think that if it turned out you were the only friend I had left, I wouldn't be too surprised," Rainbow said. And I wouldn't even feel hard done by either.

Blake folded her arms. "If you really think that one blowout and some ghosting is enough to make your friends turn their backs on you then you don't know them as well as I thought."

"Okay, so back around to it then: why you?"

"They think that whatever's bugging you is a huntress thing," Blake explained. "And I think they're right, now. Twilight thought – wrongly – that you might talk to me because I get it."

"And Applejack wouldn't get it?"

"Applejack," Blake said, her words becoming as pointed as the tip of Gambol Shroud. "Thinks that you're mad at her."

Rainbow blinked. "Applejack…thinks I'm mad at her?"

"Because she's the one in General Ironwood's confidence," Blake said. "Instead of you."

"Or you," Rainbow replied, unable to keep all of the bitterness out of her voice. "You never considered that I might be mad at you, too."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Should I have worried?"

"No," Rainbow spat. "And neither should Applejack; I'm not mad at her. General Ironwood needs somebody he can trust at his side."

Blake was silent for a moment. "What did you do, that you're so mad at yourself?"

Rainbow exhaled through gritted teeth. "I…I knew. About Sunset. About the Breach. About…about everything."

Blake was quiet for a moment. "When?" she asked, the single word soft as it was solitary.

"I saw her do it," Rainbow answered. "Use her powers on the controls. I was standing in the doorway to the cab. I should have stopped her, but I didn't; I should have told General Ironwood the moment the battle was over, but I didn't do that either. I let Sunset talk me into keeping quiet about it. I let her turn my head right around until I…I didn't do anything at all, and I didn't even let it bother me."

"But you told him now," Blake murmured.

Rainbow nodded. "I…after the memorial service, I…I couldn't hold it in any longer. The general, he…he wasn't mad that I choked on the train, although maybe he ought to be. But he was very mad that I kept it to myself, and he's got every right to be. That's why I'm not upset at Applejack; I deserved to lose General Ironwood's trust after what I did…didn't do."

"He trusts me," Blake said, in a deliberately humble, slightly plaintive tone.

Rainbow frowned at her. She was confused by the relevance of that, especially since Blake sounded as though she was trying not to brag. It took her a moment to grasp what Blake was actually saying. Her eyes widened. "You knew too?"

Blake nodded silently.

"How?" Rainbow demanded.

"I worked it out, when the accusations against Penny started," Blake said. "I knew that it wasn't Penny, because she was down at the other end of the train with the rest of us…but Sunset's energy beams are quite similar to Penny's lasers."

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. "So what did you do about it?"

"Nothing," Blake admitted, bowing her head as she did so. "I let Sunset-"

"Talk you into keeping her dirty little secret," Rainbow finished for her. "No harm was done, it all worked out in the end, nobody really believes that Penny was responsible for this. Sound about right?"

Blake nodded silently.

"Yeah, she's got a real silver tongue, doesn't she?" Rainbow spat. "Does General Ironwood know?"

"I told him before the fleet left Vale," Blake said. "I wanted him to know what he was getting…so he could decide if he didn't actually want it. He…forgave me."

"Probably because you weren't Atlas then," Rainbow said. "He didn't expect you to be…He holds his soldiers to a higher standard. He won't go so easy on you again."

Blake didn't dispute that directly, but she did say, "I'm sure that he'd forgive you, too, if-"

"I don't want him to forgive me; I want him to start trusting me again," Rainbow declared sharply. "Not much chance of that."

Blake said nothing either to agree or disagree with that. Instead, she said, "I still don't see what this has to do with your friends?"

"How was I supposed to enjoy a party knowing that good guys like Flynt and Neon were dead because of me?" Rainbow demanded.

"That wasn't Pinkie's fault," Blake pointed out.

"I know that!" Rainbow snapped. "I just…I don't deserve my friends, not after what I did."

"Your friends are the most understanding, forgiving people I have ever met," Blake began.

"That doesn't mean that I deserve…that I ought to be forgiven," Rainbow growled.

"Twilight-"

"I know what Twilight said when it all came out," Rainbow said. "I…I'd like to think that that was because she hadn't really thought it through."

"But you have?"

“I’ve given it a lot of thought, yeah,” Rainbow growled. She sighed. “I love my friends. I’d do nearly anything for them, I’d die for them, those five…those girls are the best part of me. But…do you suppose that somewhere in Vale there’s a Mom and Pop bakery, and a girl who works part time in the kitchen who the Mom and Pop love like she was their own daughter?”

Blake frowned. “I suppose…it doesn’t seem too unique a scenario.”

“How about a girl who dreams about being a trend-setting fashionista, the kind where everyone knows her name all the other world; the kind of girl who acts all high class even though her family…really aren’t?”

“You mean, like Rarity?”

“Sunset chose the only friends she had in the world over the world,” Rainbow said. “That’s…that’s a nasty move, but I can see why she did it. Huntresses are the only friends, the only family, that she knew, and she chose to protect her family. That’s…that’s who she is. But I have friends who aren’t huntresses, and I chose to put my team over people just like my friends living in Vale.”

“You didn’t make that choice,” Blake said. “Sunset did.”

“I let it happen,” Rainbow said. “And then I covered it up. How am I supposed to wear this uniform after what I did?” Her expression tightened, and she looked up at the skies and the cruisers floating above the haze. “For half my life,” she declared, “all I ever wanted was to be an Atlesian specialist. Ever since Twi’s brother gave me the idea. I was just kind of bumming around their house, I didn’t know what to do, how I could repay what Twilight’s folks had done for me. It was Shining Armour who suggested I could apply for Combat School; he told me that if I worked hard, then I could go from Canterlot to Atlas to wearing this uniform. He said it would be a way for me to make something of myself.” Rainbow grinned. “Twilight…Twilight wasn’t too happy when she found out about it, but I…I wanted to prove that I was worth the effort they’d taken with me. I wanted to prove to all of them: Twilight, General Ironwood, my friends; I wanted to prove that it was worth it, all of the trust and all of the help. I wanted to make them proud of me. And now…now that I’ve finally got this uniform I don’t deserve to wear it.”

“Then why are you wearing it?” Blake asked.

“Because the general won’t let me quit,” Rainbow said flatly. “I don’t know why.”

“Because he hasn’t given up on you,” Blake said. “Just like I won’t give up on you. Just like your friends won’t give up on you, even if there are times when you wish they would.”

“You don’t understand-“

“Sure, because I’ve never done anything in my life that I regret,” Blake said, in a pan so dead it was practically exsanguinated.

Rainbow’s jaw tightened. “So how do you do it? How do I take this back? How do I make this go away?”

“You can’t,” Blake admitted. “We can’t change our pasts. We have to live with the bad – all of the bad.”

Rainbow’s shoulders slumped. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Better,” Blake said. “You’re supposed to do better from now on. Like I’m trying to do better, here in Atlas.”

“You are doing better,” Rainbow said. “You’re doing so much better it’s kind of annoying how good you are. Especially when I’m…not. Since you’ve got all the answers, I don’t suppose you know how I can get General Ironwood to start trusting me again?”

Blake shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t know about that. It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“I’d say that it means everything to me except, if that was true I wouldn’t have betrayed it in the first place, would I?” Rainbow asked. “I feel like…I didn’t quite appreciate it until I didn’t have it any more.”

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” Blake said. “But I know what you mean. We don’t always appreciate our parents…until after we’ve rejected them.”

Rainbow let that pass without comment. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Blake.”

“You can’t stew on it,” Blake told her.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Rainbow demanded. “The general won’t punish me even though I deserve it. If he gave me the rogues’ march and tossed me out on the street, then at least I could tell myself that I’d gotten what I deserved, but he won’t punish me, and he won’t…I can’t see any way that I can get his trust back and without that…what am I supposed to do but stew on it?”

“And taking missions that you don’t like and don’t respect the need for is supposed to help how?”

“If General Ironwood won’t punish me, then I’ll just have to punish myself,” Rainbow declared.

Blake stared at her evenly. “To be perfectly honest, the fact that you think this is a punishment shows…you kind of need to do this mission anyway. But don’t pretend that this is going to help because it won’t.”

“So what will help?”

“Talking to your friends!” Blake cried. “You don’t have to tell them what you did, but you do have to let them back into your life, or else…it won’t end well, trust me. I’ve seen too many good people ruined by anger to let you end up the same way.”

Rainbow Dash was silent for a moment. She did want to talk to the girls again, even if she was afraid that they would reject her after what she’d done – to Pinkie, not on the train; she wasn’t sure she had the guts to tell them about that. But that would still leave her right where she was, on the outside of General Ironwood’s circle looking in, and no way to find the door. “I don’t see a way out of this.”

“We’ll find it together,” Blake promised. “Every step of the way.”

Rainbow nodded slowly. “When this mission is over,” she said. “Do you want to come with me and visit my old team-mate? His name’s Spearhead, he used to be on Team Jasper with me and Applejack and Maud.”

“Used to be?” Blake repeated. “Your old team got broken up, didn’t it?”

“Spearhead and Maud decided that it wasn’t for them,” Rainbow said. “Maud changed her mind later on, but Spearhead didn’t. Considering the guy lost his arm, I can’t really blame him. The point is…I haven’t gone to see him since…yeah. I probably should have, but I didn’t. I…I kind of left him behind. Thanks, for not doing the same to me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Blake said quietly. “So, where is he now?”

“Here, in Mantle,” Rainbow said. “He became an artist, I think.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “What kind of art?”

“We’ll find out,” Rainbow said. “If you’re in.”

“Sure,” Blake said. “I can appreciate art as much as the next person.”

“More, cause the next person is me,” Rainbow said wryly. She leaned against the wall as she checked the time on her scroll. “The kids should be here soon.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Because you don’t trust me?” Rainbow asked.

“Because there’s nothing that says this mission can’t be completed by two huntresses,” Blake replied with a slight smile.

“No, I guess not,” Rainbow said. “We can take turns holding the stop sign. So, is this your first time in Mantle? I think it is, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Blake said. “It’s, uh…” she trailed off a little as she looked around the dingy streets, the smog-choked skies up above, the chimneys rising above them. “It’s, uh-“

“A dump?” Rainbow suggested. Mantle might be the second heart of the Kingdom of Atlas, but it was the heart that was all yellow and blackened in places from smoking too much and you only had to take a look around to realise that.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Blake said defensively.

“I don’t care, you can say it to me,” Rainbow said.

“My…I had a friend named Ilia,” Blake said. “She was born in Mantle, but her parents were able to get her a place in a prestigious Atlas prep school. When I first came to Atlas, after I was wounded, I understood the way that she talked about it: the wonder in her voice. Now that I’ve come to Mantle-“

“You understand why her parents wanted to get her away from it,” Rainbow finished.

Blake frowned a little. “I understand the distaste in her voice when she talked about the city she was born in. It’s…not the nicest place in the Kingdom. Why is Mantle so different to Atlas, or even Canterlot?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “You could listen to what Robyn Hill has to say about it, but I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Robyn Hill?”

“She’s a crook with pretensions,” Rainbow said. “Claims to be standing up for Mantle against Atlas, always attacking General Ironwood and the Council, claiming that they’ve got it in for this whole city. If you want to know what’s really up with Mantle, you should talk to Rarity.”

“Rarity?” Blake repeated. “Rarity is from Mantle?”

Rainbow nodded. “Of course ‘I am an Atlas girl at heart, darling’ but she was born here. Just like your friend, she got out.”

“What happens to the people who can’t get out?” Blake asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Rainbow said.

Anything else that the two huntresses might have said to one another was prevented as the sounds of high-pitched chatter and a multitude of footsteps heralded the approach of Rainbow's charges even before the children – and their infamous mothers – came into view. But come into view they swiftly did, rounding the corner en masse and walking up the street towards the crossing.

It was the children themselves who led the way, a multi-coloured assembly of mop tops all wrapped up in coats and scarves against the chill Mantle air – yes, there was a city wide heating system that made the place inhabitable, but that didn't mean that you wanted to be walking around in a T-shirt when the wind whipped through the streets – heading towards Rainbow and Blake in a gaggle, with the more confident kids striding out in front and the meeker ones hanging back a little closer to their parents.

Said parents came next; they were all women – a place like Mantle, built upon back-breaking mines and heavy industry, tended towards tradition that way even if it seemed a little old-fashioned if you looked at it from a more Atlesian point of view – and like their children, they were wrapped up warm, although their coats eschewed the brighter blues or verdant greens of their children in favour of a palate limited to shades of pink and purple. Some of them clutched disposable coffee cups in one hand, and some of them even had food – Rainbow couldn't make out exactly what food, maybe a bacon sandwich or it could be just a croissant – in the other.

None of them, as far as she could see, had brought her a lasagne. Or a casserole, for that matter.

Rainbow wasn't put off by that – none of these people owed her dinner, after all, and she tended to grab a burger on the way back to Atlas Academy for dinner most nights anyway – but what did bother her a little was the way that the conversation amongst the mothers gradually faded as they saw just who was waiting to take their children to school. Some of their conversation dropped to hushed whispers. One of them even pointed.

She might have liked to believe that they were just disappointed that neither Rainbow or Blake was a cute, young alternative to their disappointing husbands, but unfortunately, she knew better.

This is what I signed up for.

"Are you going to be okay with this?" Blake asked softly into her ear.

"Hey! I am great with kids," Rainbow replied. "I have my own fan club, you know." She paused. "I mean, I'm not saying that I deserve one any more, but I've got one. Because I'm good with kids, and they look up to me." And there is nothing at all weird about the fact that I have hung outside the window and listened to the meetings…once or twice.

One of the children, a little boy with pale flaxen hair, broke away from the pack and ran up towards Rainbow and Blake. Rainbow moved to block his way off the pavement and onto the crossing, with Blake following just a step behind her. "Wait for the others, kid."

The boy looked up at Rainbow and Blake with wide eyes and said, in that loud voice that children use when saying things that few grown ups would dare to utter aloud, said, "What kind of animals are you?"

This is what I signed up for, Rainbow reminded herself. She reminded herself that he was only a kid and tried to keep her voice even in consequence. "We're not animals; we're faunus. That means we're people, but we come with cool extras."

Blake gave Rainbow a touch of side-eye at that, to which Rainbow shrugged. What was I supposed to say?

"My mommy says you should be in a zoo," the boy went on in that same overly loud voice.

Rainbow's mouth hung open for a moment as she glanced at Blake, who returned a look of equal helplessness; yes, it was a terrible thing to say, but were they really going to chew out a five year old?

Fortunately they were spared the need to say anything by an embarrassed squawk from within the crowd of mothers who – along with their children – had nearly caught up with the front runner. "I said no such thing! Timmy! What are you thinking making up stories about me like that?"

"But-"

"No buts! Your father will be hearing about this, young man."

Another of the Mantle women, dark skinned like Ciel and wearing a maroon coat, stepped out of the pack and tiptoed around the crowd of children waiting like penguins in front of the crossing. The woman walked in a way that put Rainbow a little in mind of Rarity, the same sort of strutting step of someone who had style and wanted you to know it too. Her smile, on the other hand, was nothing like Rarity's; it didn't reach her eyes. "Rachel Eick, head of the local PTA," she announced. "I must say, we don't usually get two huntresses here to escort our little ones. Usually one strapping young man is enough." She laughed. "I hope that this isn't a question of quantity over quality."

This is not what I signed up for. Thanks, Blake. "No," Rainbow said. "Ma'am, either one of us would be more than capable of escorting your kids-"

"Then why are you both here?" Ms Eick asked.

Before either of them could answer, a little girl in a light blue coat piped up, "Are you Blake Belladonna?"

“Uh, yes,” Blake said. “Yes, I am.”

The girl gasped, and started bouncing up and down excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I knew it, I knew it was you!”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You know who I am?”

“Now that I know what to look for…” Ms Eick murmured. “Yes, it is you, isn’t it? You’re quite famous, Miss Belladonna: the Princess of Menagerie serving in the Atlesian military. Didn’t you know?”

“N-no, I didn’t,” Blake said softly.

“Are you really a princess?” asked the little girl.

“Um…it’s not quite as simple as that-“ Blake began.

“If you’re a princess then what are you doing here?” one of the other children asked.

“I think that some of us would like an answer to that as well,” said one of the mothers, a blonde woman in a red coat.

Blake straightened visibly. “I’m here to fight for the Kingdom of Atlas, as part of the greatest shield of mankind in all of Remnant.”

“Oh, very good, did you memorise that from a pamphlet?” the woman demanded. “What I want to know is why we’re spending millions of lien to help your people when we still have potholes on our road and I can’t get a weekly garbage collection outside my house.”

“Speak for yourself,” another one of the mothers said. “My sister-in-law moved to Argus last year, and until the CCT gets back online I don’t even know if Argus still exists. My husband’s worried sick. I can’t wait until the network is restored and everything is going to get back to normal.”

Arguments began to spread amongst the women of Mantle, mostly disputing the relative importance of restoring the CCT versus the more prosaic concerns of things in Mantle that could have used a little money to touch them up.

“As you can see,” Ms Eick said, with a slight roll of her eyes, “not everyone is a fan of the moves that the council has been making.”

“Not everyone,” the woman in the red coat said, “is a fan of having money spent on animals ahead of our own kingdom. I don’t pay my taxes to have it spent on the likes of you and yours.”

Rainbow had to give Blake credit: she was mad, Rainbow could see it in her eyes…but only in her eyes. She didn’t shout, she didn’t argue back, she didn’t even clench her fists. She just folded her arms behind her back and said, in the calmest voice that you ever heard. “I’m sorry you feel that way, ma’am.”

This kingdom has really made something out of you, hasn’t it?

I suppose that even if I turned out to be a great big disappointment to everybody, I at least gave Atlas someone it could really be proud of, and that’s…not bad, I guess.

“Anyway,” Rainbow said loudly, before anyone else could stick their oar in. “It’s time to go, so say goodbye to your mommys, kids.” She stepped out into the road, holding her red STOP sign so that oncoming traffic – of which there was none right now, but you never knew when a car was going to come racing along – could see it and began to wave the children across the road. “Come on, single file, across the zebra, that’s it, hey! No running! Just walk across-“

Rainbow’s ears twitched at a sound coming from a street or two away. A sound like…like something growling.

A glance at Blake told her that the other huntress had heard it too. They both turned away from the children and their parents, in the direction from which they thought they had heard the growling sound.

There it was again, something growling, and it seemed like it was a little louder this time.

It’s probably just a stray dog or something. This is Mantle, there’s no way that it could be-

“Is something wrong?” Ms Eick asked.

“Hey, kids,” Rainbow said. “Why don’t you go back to your moms for a little bit, okay?”

“What’s going on?” asked the little girl who had recognised Blake.

Neither of them bothered to answer her. They had other things on their mind. Blake sidestepped a little closer to Rainbow Dash. “I’ll go check it out,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“No, I’ll go check it out,” Rainbow said. “You stay here and call for back-up if I need it.”

“You’re supposed to be watching these children.”

“You can watch them,” Rainbow said. “Okay, kids!” she said loudly. “I’m just going to check out a weird sound down the street, but Princess Blake is going to wait right here with you until I get back! Isn’t that great?”

Blake’s ears flattened. “You can be a real jerk sometimes,” she muttered.

Rainbow didn’t bother to reply to that, but set off in the direction of the sound.

And then it came again, and this time, Rainbow Dash was absolutely certain that it wasn’t a stray dog making that noise.

Because it wasn’t just one creature growling now; it was a lot of them, and they were coming this way.

“What is that sound?” Ms Eick demanded, because the civilians could hear it now too.

“Everybody stay calm,” Blake urged.

“We’ll stay calm when you tell us what that sound is.”

“Is that-“

“It couldn’t be-“

“How did-“

They were cut off by the roaring of the pride of sabyrs that rounded the corner and began to charge straight towards the crowd of mothers and their children.

“Blake, call for back-up!” Rainbow yelled, not waiting for Blake’s acknowledgement as she charged to meet the grimm, trailing a rainbow behind her as she ran, her trainers almost sliding along the tarmac of the road as she rushed towards the sabyrs faster than the sabyrs could come for her. She still had the STOP sign in her hands, and she used it to brain the first sabyr across the face hard enough to knock it sideways before Rainbow reversed the sign and jammed the long wooden pole into its throat.

Even before the grimm began to disintegrate, Rainbow was already moving, rushing to intercept the second sabyr that was trying to run past her towards the civilians. It saw her coming, but Rainbow was moving faster than the grimm could turn, and she kicked it in mid-flank to knock it on its side as she drew her auto-pistols – who said you didn’t need your weapons on the school run? – and fired one pistol on full automatic into the sabyr’s head until it died.

She didn’t even need to look as, with her second pistol, she filled the third sabyr – the one that was about to leap on top of her – full of holes until it, too, turned to ash and scattered on the wind.

The next one to catch her attention was a little larger. It only had one sabre-tooth; the other was just a cracked stump as though it had lost it in a fight. The sabyr pawed the ground once before it began to lope towards her.

Rainbow didn’t bother to paw the ground before she started running. She fired all the remaining rounds left in her pistols but ran out of ammo before it seemed to affect the grimm much at all, and so, she discarded both her guns and clenched her hands into fists.

The sabyr leapt, roaring.

Rainbow leapt, snarling.

The sabyr stretched out its clawed paws to reach for her.

Rainbow swung with her right hook, punching the grimm right in the chest as she let it have it with an aura boom that ripped right through the black and oily monstrosity, scattering its remains upon the wind.

The high-pitched crack of Gambol Shroud drew Rainbow’s attention as she landed lightly on her feet. Blake was standing between the civilians and the sabyrs, snapping off shots with her pistol in one hand while in the other hand she held her scroll.

“-repeat, this is Specialist Belladonna requesting immediate reinforcements at the junction of Thirty-fifth and Eighteenth. We have grimm in the city and children in danger!”

“Belladonna, this is Mantle HQ: did you say grimm in the city?”

“Yes!” Blake shouted into her scroll while continuing to fire her pistol.

“Roger that, your request has been forwarded all to units, priority urgent.”

“This is Team Tsunami, we are en route, thirty seconds out.”

Blake wasn’t able to reply as a sabyr got close enough to leap for her... and leapt straight into a solid stone clone of Blake, as the real Blake descended upon the creature from above, Gambol Shroud shifted into sword mode in one hand and her cleaver-scabbard in the other as she dropped spinning, a whirl of blades that sliced clean through the sabyr’s back all the way to its belly. Blake landed with perfect poise and precision and flung out her grapple towards a sabyr that was trying to work its way past it, digging into the monster’s hind leg and making it yelp in pain as Blake hauled on her black ribbon to pull the beast towards her and into range of her deadly blade.

Rainbow ran back towards the civilians, intercepting the closest sabyr with a kick to the jaw that sent it flying into the air before she finished it off with a blast from her shotgun as she pulled it off her back and blew the grimm’s head clean off. The next one was a little tougher and took three shots to finally put down.

The roaring of the remaining sabyrs was drowned out by the roaring of a Skyray as it soared down the street, high speed, low altitude, coming straight towards them. It began to climb upwards just a little as it approached the civilians, but as it passed over the anxious crowd huddled together by the roadside, a solitary figure leapt from out of the airship to land on her knees on the ground in front of the non-combatants.

It was Maud Pie, in her familiar grey dress, wearing her familiarly disinterested expression and speaking in her familiarly disinterested - some might even say bored - voice as she said, “Stay where you are, children.”

She placed her hands palms down onto the road, and at her command, the road buckled and bent, the tarmac splitting as the earth erupted upwards in a wall between Maud and the onrushing sabyrs, a wall of stone curving around in a semi-circle shielding mothers and children alike from the savagery of the grimm.

It left Rainbow and Blake on the wrong side of the wall, but they were huntresses; it was all part of the job.

The Skyray had elevated in its approach so that it could back around; it had banked back over the combat and now a second huntress leapt down from out of the transport to land nimbly on top of the wall that Maud had raised.

“Never fear, the Great and Powerful Trixie is here!” Trixie declared, her moon-and-stars cape billowing out behind her as she struck a grandiose pose. She waved her wand around in a circle. “Watch as she makes these monsters disappear!” She pointed the wand directly at a sabyr, and as the roaring grimm leapt at her a jet of flame issued from the end of the wand to consume the monster in the flames.

Sunburst was the next to land, his own cape – considerably less sparkly than Trixie's – barely managing a flutter as he hit the ground unsteadily. His staff was in his hands, and atop the staff gleamed a light blue ice dust crystal. As a sabyr charged at him, he thrust the staff outwards with a kind of grunt, and a rippling stream of ice erupted from his staff to coat the road in front of him, spikes of ice jutting upwards in waves until they had not only engulfed the sabyr's paws, but impaled it through the chest as well.

Rainbow didn't see Starlight Glimmer leap from out of the Skyray; rather she must have jumped down to land behind Maud's earthen barrier because it was over the wall that Rainbow saw her jump in a flying leap that carried her over the wall and across the face of the sun. Green laser beams flew from her carbine, Equaliser, to slice through the grimm and reduce them to swiftly scattering ashes.

She landed on one toe with a dancer's grace, spinning in place, thrusting out her free right arm and she must have copied Maud's geokinetic semblance because as she spun Starlight mentally wrenched a chunk of earth and rock out of the ground, splitting the roadway as she did so, and threw it at one of the larger sabyr's to strike it dead.

Equaliser transformed from a carbine into a lance with a glowing green tip which Starlight thrust into the belly of the last remaining sabyr as it made a final, futile, desperate charge to reach the civilians sheltering behind Maud's wall.

"And the day is saved," Trixie proclaimed. "Thanks to the Great and Powerful Trixie and the unstoppable force of Team Tsunami!"

"We could have taken them," Rainbow said defensively as she recovered her pistols.

"Calling for backup was the right move," Blake replied, as she sheathed Gambol Shroud across her back. "If someone had been hurt-"

"I know, I know, if you paid for a sledgehammer you might as well use it," Rainbow said. "I just don't like Trixie acting like she saved my life or anything."

Trixie winked as she leapt down from off the wall. "Any time, Rainbow Dash."

Blake shook her head. "Thank you for showing up so swiftly," she said, as the sky began to fill with other airships, a mixture of Skyrays and Skygraspers bringing further reinforcements to answer Blake's distress call. Yes, they were a little late, but Rainbow didn't really blame them: when you got a report of grimm in the city, you were liable to overreact. Blake gestured at those airships with one hand. "How did you get here so much faster than anyone else?"

"We'd just completed a mission," Sunburst explained. "Our Skyray was taking us home when we got your message."

"Lucky break, huh?" Starlight said brightly. "But what are you two doing down here in Mantle?"

"Sunburst!" Ms Eick gasped, as she peeked around the earth wall and caught sight of the young huntsman. "You came to save us!"

"Oh great," Rainbow muttered.

"Oh gods," whined Sunburst.

"Oh brother," Trixie moaned, slapping a hand to her face.

As the mothers of Mantle converged around their gallant saviour Sunburst, the sound of Starlight Glimmer cracking her knuckles rose above the hubbub of their chatter.

After avoiding a PR nightmare – and having handed off the school run to a squad of Military Huntsmen from the Defiant, as more soldiers and androids fanned out to secure a perimeter – the six huntsmen ventured in search of the source of the grimm incursion, heading in what was Blake and Rainbow's best guess as to where they had first heard the growling of the sabyrs.

"I still don't understand how a pride of grimm was able to breach Mantle's defences," Sunburst said.

"It's not a breach," Rainbow replied.

"Well what would you call it when a bunch of sabyrs manage to get into the middle of the city?" demanded Trixie.

"It sounds like a breach to me," Maud observed flatly.

"It's not a breach," Rainbow insisted. "Breaches are…bigger."

"So it's a small breach," Starlight said.

"It's not a breach!" Rainbow yelled. "Breaches happen to other kingdoms, not to ours."

"It doesn't matter what we call it," Blake declared. "The fact is that grimm entered Mantle, and that means that instead of fighting about what to call it, we need to keep calm, do our jobs, and find out how they got inside the walls."

"How could they have broken in through?" Sunburst suggested.

"One pride of sabyrs couldn't break through the walls," Rainbow insisted. "You'd need an army of grimm to do that, and anyway, if the walls had been broken through, then we'd all be going deaf from the alarms going off."

"You have a point," Blake acknowledged. "But then how did they get in here?"

It didn't take them much longer to find out; searching the nearby streets took them to a blind alley, where the first sign of something wrong was a manhole cover that had been ripped free and buried in the wall next to a pipe.

After that it didn't take them long to notice the gaping hole ripped in the alley, a jagged wound in the tarmac leading down into the darkness below.

"Okay, this is starting to feel familiar," Rainbow admitted.

"The sewer," Blake murmured.

"Ugh, and this is Trixie's best cape," Trixie groused.

The six huntsmen gathered around the hole in the earth, looking down into the darkness.

"So," Sunburst said with a nervous laugh. "Who wants to go down into the dark hole to look for more grimm?"

Mantle Sewers

Mantle Sewers

The sewers that ran under the streets of Mantle were wet, dirty, smelly, enclosed and dark, and only the last of those wasn’t a problem.

At least, it wasn’t a problem for Rainbow Dash, thanks to her goggles which had now descended from atop her head to cover her eyes. Their night-vision mode gave her a clear – if green-tinted – view of the world around her in spite of the lack of light down here, in much the same way that that famous faunus night vision meant Blake looked as comfortable down here as she had been in the street above. Rainbow couldn’t say it wasn’t a problem for Team TSSM, as they had revealed that it was spelt; Rainbow thought it was a bit of reach to get from there to Tsunami, but then, some teams were just hard to work with when it came to names. In fact, judging by the fact that Starlight, Maud, and Sunburst all had some kind of flashlight out – either in one hand or attached to their weapons – it probably was a problem for them... but then, it was just one of the problems of being down here, and the rest of the problems affected Rainbow and Blake equally with their four allies.

Problems like the fact that it smelled down here; it smelled of exactly what you would expect a sewer underneath a town that wasn’t too clean to begin with to smell of, and that smell was getting everywhere. When she got back up to the surface, Rainbow was going to have to put everything in the laundry, including her shoes, but for now, the fact that the smell was getting up her nose and into her throat was the bigger issue. It was all she could do to keep from trying to cough it back up again. Blake was looking a little queasy as well, and Sunburst actually had started coughing more than once since they descended into this underworld.

The smell was the worst – assuming you could see down here anyway – but it didn’t feel so great in the sewer either, as they splashed through liquid that Rainbow was not too keen to look down at. Forget laundering her trainers from the smell; they were probably ruined by whatever she was standing in, and the same went for whatever everyone else was wearing over their feet too. She supposed that they should all be glad that none of them were wearing the kind of heels that left your feet bare the way Rarity sometimes did. That…would not have been great down here.

The huntsmen squelched as they moved through the liquid down here, and Rainbow felt that there were times when she had stepped in something a little more solid than normal, something viscous that tried to close around her feet. She didn’t think too hard about what that might be. She didn’t really want to know.

“There’s no sign of any more grimm,” Trixie said. “So can we go now? Trixie doesn’t really want to stay here any longer than she has to.”

“We need to confirm how the grimm got into the city,” Blake said. She pulled out her scroll, opened it up, and, well, scrolled through the various apps that she had on it until she found a mapping app that displayed a schematic of the Mantle sewer system for her. As Rainbow looked at it over Blake’s shoulder, she felt it would be amazing if Blake could actually understand what she was seeing here, because Rainbow couldn’t make ears or tail of it; the whole thing was just a labyrinth of tunnels criss-crossing underneath one another, getting deeper and deeper as they went. Whose idea had it been to build a sewer system this complicated? Was everyone supposed to come down here if the grimm got in like Mountain Glenn?

Rainbow sniffed the stench that passed for air down here. No, nobody would be living down here for any length of time.

Besides, it wasn’t like Mantle was going to fall to the grimm. This wasn’t Mountain Glenn, this wasn’t even Appleoosa; Atlas had had time to dig in here, and they knew how to dig in properly in this part of the world. This sabyr incursion was not the precursor to anything big or scary or dangerous; it was a one-time thing, and soon, Rainbow and Blake were going to find out how it had been done and make sure it didn’t happen again.

Provided they could understand the schematics.

“If I’m reading this properly,” Blake said, “a lot of these pipes converge into just three much larger pipes which travel underneath the city’s defensive perimeter before dumping the city’s waste out in the wilds. That must be how the sabyrs got into Mantle.”

“But those tunnels were walled off years ago, after the war when they started routing everything through the treatment plant,” Sunburst pointed out. “They moved away from dumping waste on the tundra precisely because of the danger of grimm infiltration and the increasing population's water demands.”

“If they didn’t completely collapse the pipes, the grimm could still use them,” Blake replied.

“Maybe; except, of those three pipes, one of them comes out halfway up a sheer cliff,” Rainbow said, “and the other two have defences so that the grimm can’t come through the tunnels. It’s not like nobody ever thought of this stuff before.”

“I’m sure that someone did,” Blake replied, “but since the wall hasn’t been breached, it’s the simplest alternative solution.” She lowered the hand that held her scroll but made no move to put the device away. “Since there are six of us, I think we should split up by pairs, each take a pipe and follow it through to its exit and see if there’s any sign that that is how the grimm got in.”

“Just a second!” Trixie cried. “Who put you in charge all of a sudden?”

“Mantle Command tasked us with running point investigating the grimm incursion, since we were at ground zero,” Blake reminded her.

“Yes, but Mantle Command didn’t give you command authority,” Trixie squawked in loud objection. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is in command of this team, and she doesn’t intend to give it up to some supernumerary!”

“Oh, come on, Trixie,” Rainbow said. “It doesn’t matter who’s in charge-“

“It matters to Trixie!”

Blake didn’t roll her eyes, because she had a lot of self-control like that. “Okay, Trixie, what are your orders?”

Trixie blinked. She looked away from Blake. She coughed into one hand. “Starlight, Trixie has decided that we shall split into pairs and investigate the three pipes that exit beyond the city perimeter. You go with Sunburst; Maud, you’ll come with Trixie.”

A grin played across Starlight’s face. “Understood.”

“And wipe that smirk off your face; this is a serious investigation!” Trixie declared. “You two can pair off together,” she added, waving one airy hand in the direction of Blake and Rainbow. “And you can take the…” she stopped. “What are the three pipes?”

Blake let out a very small and restrained sigh. “I’ll mark them and transmit it to your scrolls.”

“Yes, you do that, excellent work,” Trixie said. She made her own scroll appear in her hand with a theatrical flourish and waited as Blake marked the three pipes in question – tapping them to turn them red upon her screen – before sending them to Starlight and Trixie, who squinted at the schematics as though they were as incomprehensible to her as they were to Rainbow Dash. “Trixie sees,” she murmured, stroking her chin authoritatively. Eventually, she tapped the three marked pipes again, turning one blue, one green and one purple. “Starlight, you take Sunburst and check out this pipe that leads out over this cliff; Maud, you and I will take the northern pipe leading to the river; and you two can take the other.”

Rainbow didn’t know whether to give Trixie credit or not; she had given the easiest assignment – assuming the sabyrs hadn’t climbed a sheer cliff to get into Mantle – to Starlight and Sunburst, because at least she wasn’t the kind of leader who saw leadership as a way to take the soft option for herself; on the other hand, Starlight was the best huntress on her team by a way, so it was kind of a waste to send her out on the least likely option.

But it wasn’t as though Trixie and Maud couldn’t handle themselves, and the same could be said for Rainbow and Blake, so there was nothing to complain about in what she’d decided, even if it wasn’t a perfect decision.

“We should stay in touch and share what we find in our searches,” Blake said. “Just a suggestion,” she added, as Trixie bristled visibly.

“That,” Trixie said. “Is not a bad suggestion,” she conceded. “Okay, Team Tsunami, move out!”

Blake and Rainbow moved out too, picking their way through the sewage as the smell continued to assail their throats and their nostrils alike. Rainbow drew her pistols from their holsters, holding them down by her sides but ready to bring them up if need be. Blake held Gambol Shroud, also in pistol configuration, out in front of her, while in her other hand, she held her scroll with their location pinging on the map of the sewers.

“You’re getting good at this,” Rainbow observed as they half-walked, half-waded through the dark tunnel, following the direction in which the liquid flowed past their ankles, flowing towards the exits out of the city.

“Good at what?” Blake asked. “Being a huntress?”

“Yeah, because you were so bad at that before,” Rainbow muttered. “No, being a leader. Not losing your cool with the civilians, putting up with Trixie, deciding what to do; it’s kind of incredible when you think what a bad leader you were at Beacon.”

Blake glanced at her out of the side of her eyes. “You don’t know what kind of a leader I was.”

“I know your own team couldn’t wait to be rid of you,” Rainbow said. “I was there for that, remember?”

Blake winced. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” Rainbow said. “I’m trying to say…you’ve come a long way. Atlas has been good for you.”

“I…I wasn’t comfortable leading Team Bluebell,” Blake said. “You can’t lead people you don’t trust. In the White Fang…things weren’t quite so bad, but at the same time…there was still a wall between me and the people beneath me. Adam saw to that.”

“And now?” Rainbow asked. She hesitated. “Listen, I know that I…I know that we haven’t seen each other much…or at all…but you know I’ve got your back, right?”

“I know you do,” Blake said. “When you’re around.”

Rainbow cringed. “I…look, I’m sorry about that, I just…I was ashamed, and I was angry at myself, and…and every time I looked at you, it just made everything so much worse, because…because you’re an ex-White Fang terrorist, okay? And I’m the Ace of Atlas Academy, one of General Ironwood’s hand-picked guys, or I was, and…and seeing you become a better soldier of Atlas than me, a model huntress of this kingdom…it made me feel even more ashamed than I already did. So I didn’t want to be around you because…because I was afraid that as well as feeling ashamed, I’d start to…feel angry.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “And now?” she asked. “Now that you know what I knew, do you still feel that way?”

“Uh, kinda?” Rainbow admitted. “You told General Ironwood everything, and he forgave you. Now I wonder why I couldn’t have done that.”

“You thought you were doing the right thing.”

“No, I was doing the easy thing by keeping my mouth shut and hoping all of this would go away and I wouldn’t have to make any hard choices,” Rainbow said sharply. “You can’t be a leader with that attitude.” She snorted. “It’s probably for the best, anyway. I was never cut out for the whole leader thing. There’s a reason Applejack was the leader in Team Jasper. I’m better at punching things than coming up with strategies.”

“There must have been a reason General Ironwood chose you to lead Team Rosepetal.”

“He wanted someone he could trust, not necessarily someone smart,” Rainbow said. “Only it turns out that I wasn’t that trustworthy so…back to punching stuff it is. I hope.”

Blake was quiet for a moment, and for another moment after that, and for a while longer as they squelched and splashed through the stinking sewer with the sound of their squelching and their splashing the only sound to be heard between them.

“You don’t have to pretend that you’re not angry,” Blake said. “I came down here to try and help you, not to make you feel like you had to push down everything you feel until it blows you up. If you don’t like me-“

“This isn’t about you,” Rainbow said. “Well, it kind of is, but not like that. Yeah, you make me feel ashamed of myself, but I don’t hate you for it. You might just be the best thing I ever do for Atlas, and that…that’s something, anyway.”

Blake smiled softly, and although it was hard to tell, Rainbow thought she might actually be blushing. “Atlas might just be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too. So thank you for that; whatever else happens, I’ll always be grateful.”

"You don't need to be grateful to me," Rainbow said, as they splashed through the sewers, the pipe they were traversing growing larger as several pipes converged into one single, larger tunnel; by the time they reached the exit pipe, it would be large enough for a dragon to crawl down. "You just...you just gotta take care of Atlas for me, and the general."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "You're out of favour, not dying. There's no need to sound this melodramatic."

Rainbow grunted. "It's easy for you to stand there and tell me that all I have to do is do better, but it isn't so easy to actually get back to where I want to be."

"I never said it would be easy," Blake replied, "but you can do it." She stopped, her right arm - the arm in which she held the pistol-configured Gambol Shroud - tensing up a little. "What is that?"

Rainbow raised one of her own pistols cautiously as she took a step closer to the thing that Blake had seen ahead of them in the tunnel. Then, when she recognised what it was, she lowered her weapon again. "That is, or was, a sewer gator," Rainbow declared. She said "was," because it was quite clearly dead; not just dead, but killed, although it had been twenty feet long or maybe a little more, that hadn't stopped something - and Rainbow thought she knew what - from slitting its belly open and spilling its guts out into the sewer. It lay half in, half out of the murky, filthy liquid that rushed so swiftly over their feet and lapped around their legs, beached on its back, its still, unmoving eyes open and staring. Its jaws hung open just a little, making it look surprised, dumbstruck by what had happened to it. It looked as though it couldn't believe that its life had changed so much for the worse and so quickly.

Rainbow knew the feeling.

"A sewer gator?" Blake repeated, as though the words were unfamiliar to her, as though Rainbow had suddenly started speaking in a foreign language.

"You never heard of a sewer alligator?" Rainbow asked. "You know, where a kid gets a little baby alligator for their birthday and isn't it cute until it gets bigger and it’s not so cute anymore, so the parents flush it down the toilet; then it grows from eating rats and stray dogs until they get-"

"That big?" Blake suggested.

"Even bigger," Rainbow said with relish in her voice. "They say that some of these alligators grow so big that they could swallow a whole ursa major in one bite."

"Really?" Blake said, with undisguised scepticism.

"I don't know if any of them really grow that big," Rainbow admitted. "I just think scary stories like that are cool." Some people thought that was weird, as though just because the world was a scary place, it meant that you shouldn't want to be scared any more than you were already, but that was kind of the point. There was a difference between being scared by a cool ghost story and being scared because a lagarto had almost eaten Rarity, and sometimes, you needed the first kind of scare to calm you down after the second.

Blake seemed to get it, or at least she nodded as though she got it. "Clearly, there's some truth to it, anyway," Blake said. "Although, who buys their child a baby alligator as a pet?"

"Pinkie's got one," Rainbow said. "She won't flush Gummy away, though; I don't know what she'll do with him once he gets this big, but she'll figure it out. Pinkie always does."

"Hmm," Blake murmured. "Do you think it was the grimm who killed this one?"

"I can't think who else it could be," Rainbow said. "I mean, if it had been eating sanitation workers, then maybe a huntsman would have been hired to take care of it, but I haven't seen a mission like that on the board lately."

"Me neither," Blake said softly. "Which suggests we're on the right track." With her thumb, she dexterously switched apps in her scroll from the schematics of the sewers to call Trixie and Starlight. "Guys, we've found a dead sewer alligator down here; we think it was killed by the sabyrs."

"Do you want us to come to you?" Starlight asked.

"No, it's not definitive proof that we're onto the right tunnel," Blake said. "We should all keep searching. I just wanted to keep you informed."

"Understood," Starlight said. "Good luck."

"Nobody get cocky," Trixie said. "We all have to be careful down here."

"We are, Trix," Starlight replied, before hanging up the call. Trixie did likewise.

Blake flicked back to the tunnel map with her thumb. "So we keep going?"

Rainbow nodded. "We keep going."

And that was what they did: keep going, following Blake's tunnel map towards the point where the oldest sewers in Mantle converged upon one of three great pipes to dump the city’s waste out into the wilds beyond the walls. And as they walked, through the smell and through the sewage, they found no sign of any more grimm lurking under Mantle, for which Rainbow was very grateful.

"So," she said, as they waded through the labyrinth. "How was the thing with your mom?"

"The treaty signing?" Blake asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, that," Rainbow said. She glanced at Blake, to find Blake glancing at her in turn. "Don't look at me like that. Just because I'm not as smart as Twilight or Rarity doesn't mean that I don't know what's going on."

"Sorry," Blake said. "I just...I wasn't sure if you were paying attention. Or interested. But I suppose I did underestimate you."

"Your mom got away okay?"

"Yes," Blake said. "To tell you the truth, it wasn't until she was gone that I realised just how worried I was that something terrible was going to happen to her while she was here, or on the flight out."

"But it didn't, right?"

"No," Blake replied. "No, my mom is fine, the treaty was signed, and everything is on track. So what do you think about it?"

"I think it's a terrible idea," Rainbow said.

"What?"

"Putting a CCT on Menagerie, connecting it to the network?" Rainbow said. "Do you have any idea how much harder my life is going to get once my parents can just call me from their home on Menagerie whenever they feel like it?"

Blake's shoulders shook a little as she laughed. "I'm glad your sense of humour is coming back."

"You think I'm kidding, but my parents are the most embarrassing people in the whole of Remnant," Rainbow declared. "I swear, if I told them they were calling in the middle of a life or death battle, they would still want me to give them a blow by blow account of everything that happened so far." She sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to explain to them just how much I screwed up."

"Speaking of which," Blake said, "I almost forgot: my mom gave me a letter for you from Gilda."

"From Gilda?" Rainbow repeated.

Blake nodded. "She's one of my father's guards now."

"Huh," Rainbow murmured. "Better than what she was doing before, I guess. Okay, thanks; give it to me once we get out of here."

"Right," Blake replied. "So what do you really think? Seriously, about the treaty?"

"Seriously? I think it's awesome," Rainbow declared. "The CCT is going back up, a new huntsman academy, and maybe now folks will start to see that we're not the bad guys. We're the good guys, and we can help them a lot more than the White Fang can if they only give us a chance. Maybe more faunus will apply to Atlas; or even if they don't, now that we're building an academy on Menagerie... it'll be good to see some more faunus huntsmen, 'cause I don't know if you've noticed, but we're kind of rare."

"You're right," Blake said. "About the White Fang, especially; it's my hope that they'll lose their grip on the hearts of the faunus once people see that we can achieve change peacefully, through talking and holding out a hand of friendship, the way my parents always thought we could. Maybe Sienna Khan will even admit she was wrong, although I'm not counting on it."

"If Gilda can change, there's hope for any of them," Rainbow said.

"I hope you're right," Blake whispered softly. "I really hope that you're right, because the alternative... the alternative is that I'll have to kill or watch die people that I called friends, people that I looked up to, people that I cared about. I'd rather it didn't come to that. Once was enough."

Rainbow didn't really know what to say to that, because as much as it sounded like a real downer, Blake was absolutely right: either they'd realise they'd been wrong all this time and give up like Gilda, or else they'd carry on the fight and somebody would have to stop them; there wasn't much of a middle ground there, especially if Atlas was going to get more and more involved in Menagerie.

But she didn't think she wanted to be told that she was right, even if she was right and she knew she was right; and so Rainbow said nothing, and Blake said nothing further, so a silence descended upon the two huntresses, broken only by the splashing, sloshing sounds they made as they followed the onrushing current through the dark pipes of this dank sewer, until they reached their assigned egress tunnel out beyond the city.

The fact that the wall that was supposed to block this tunnel off and stop the grimm using it as an access point had been smashed down was a pretty reasonable indicator that they were on the right track.

“Guys,” Blake said, calling Trixie and Starlight on her scroll, “we’ve found the tunnel wall broken. I think this might be the place.”

“Understood,” Trixie said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has found her wall intact, so we’ll rendezvous with you as soon as possible.”

“Same here,” Starlight said. “Don’t have too much fun without us.”

“No promises,” Blake murmured, as she and Dash continued through the broken wall and down the enormous pipe.

The tunnel was vast, wide and tall enough to accomodate the waste of dozens, maybe hundreds of sewer tunnels all flowing into and through it; it was wide enough that you could have marched a platoon down it, wide enough to fly a Skyray through it; wide enough for the giant lagarto that Blake and Rainbow found waiting in the tunnel for them when they got there.

Lagartos resembled the sewer alligator that the two huntresses had found dead in the sewer earlier, just as a grimm; they were quick, mean and vicious, and the worst part was that they liked to hide in the water so you couldn't see them coming half the time. One of their breed had turned out to be living in the lake nearby to Camp Everfree, and if she hadn't discovered her semblance at precisely the right moment, Rarity would have been a goner. This particular specimen was big, the biggest of its kind Rainbow had ever seen, which might be why it hadn't gone any further into the city: it couldn't fit into the smaller tunnels further in. It was completely armoured on top of its body with white scales, as protected there as any deathstalker, with not a hint of black skin to be seen, and although the water in the sewer wasn't deep enough for it to submerge, it was deep enough that its underbelly was concealed, and only a little black along its lower flank and the inside of its legs was visible at all. Its eyes were red, and burned like hot coals.

It roared as it surged out of the sewage, its long jaws snapping shut on Blake, or rather - thankfully - only on the shadow clone that Blake had left in her place as she leapt away, Gambol Shroud snapping as she fired upon the grimm. Her shots ricocheted harmlessly off its armour.

Blake landed nimbly, with only a small splash, by Rainbow's side. "I have an idea," she said. "Can you buy me some time?"

"You mean distract it?"

"Yes."

"You got it," Rainbow said, and she raised both her pistols as she charged for the lagarto, guns blazing. "Hey, ugly! Over here!"

Most of her rounds, like the shots that Blake had fired before her, bounced harmlessly off the white armour coating the lagarto’s upper half, but a few of them slammed into the unarmoured lower half where it rose out of the sewage. They didn’t really hurt the giant monster, but they got its attention. The red eyes of the grimm burned balefully as it swung its enormous snout towards her. The lagarto displaced the water of the sewer tunnel, making waves as it shuffled to bring all its weight and bulk to bear on Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow grinned.

The lagarto lunged for her, its immense maw opening wide as it scuttled down the tunnel with astonishing speed for such a huge and fat-looking creature, splashing swiftly forwards, growling as it snapped at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow leapt out of the way of those strong, snapping jaws, and as the lagarto’s mouth closed around the empty air, she shot at it some more, lest it notice Blake jumping down the creature’s side to drive her scythe-like hook deep into its dark, unarmoured flesh. The lagarto tried to catch Rainbow with a swing of its head, to knock her down where it could crush her beneath its bulk, but Rainbow simply hopped up onto the grimm’s bony-white head instead.

“Hey there,” she said, as she let the monster have it right in one burning red eye.

The lagarto roared as it closed its eye against the bullets that slammed into its head, one white and armoured eyelid descending to protect whatever exactly it was that the grimm used to see with. It roared some more as it reared its head upwards, throwing Rainbow Dash off. She backflipped as she flew through the high-ceilinged and immense tunnel, and since it was hard to skid through all the crud down here in the sewer, she did another backflip as she landed, retreating further as the enraged lagarto charged straight at her, splashing and roaring and blind to all else but the tormenting gnat with multicoloured hair.

Certainly, it was blind to Blake, who was heading the other way to the grimm’s onward rush. She leapt up, a great kick carrying her up and through the dark tunnel, her black ribbon trailing behind her. She flew through the stale air, teasing out the line behind her to the hook still buried in the lagarto’s skin, and as she flew, she loaded Gambol Shroud with a magazine of ice dust and fired it into the tunnel wall upon her right just as she reached the apex of her leap and gently – turning over and over upon herself, white coat and long black hair seeming to mingle in the spinning circle – began to fall.

The ice rounds struck the wall, coating it with frozen crystals and causing long, clear shards to emerge out of the wall, jutting like the spears thrust out of a shieldwall towards Blake, and over one of those spear-like icicles, Blake’s ribbon became caught, so that as Blake fell back towards the watery surface of the tunnel, her ribbon was like a rope harnessed to a pulley.

And Blake began to pull.

The lagarto came to a swift stop, its motion arrested by the force Blake was placing on it from the other side as she pulled with all her might upon the ribbon, trying to pull the lagarto upwards by the hook and expose its more vulnerable belly for their weapons. Blake pulled, and the lagarto stopped; as it slid back a step, it turned its head and saw what she had done. It tried to shake the hook loose, but Blake had driven it home too deep for that. It tried to round on her, but Rainbow Dash dived for one of its massive, trunk-like legs and wrapped one arm around it, wrestling with the mighty grimm to hold it in place as she kept – or regained – its attention with her other hand by emptying all of her remaining rounds into its underbelly.

Blake hauled upon her ribbon. Sweat began to stain her face. It was no good; she just didn’t have the strength to lift the massive grimm all by herself.

“Rainbow!” she cried. “I need a boost.”

“You got it,” Rainbow said, letting go of the leg of the struggling lagarto and flinging herself underneath the massive grimm before it could react; she tried not to think about what all this waste was doing to her beautiful wings as she punched upwards and hit the grimm with an aura boom.

The bang from her expenditure of aura echoed down the tunnel as the grimm was launched upwards, the thrust from Rainbow’s attack proving just what Blake needed to haul the creature up into the air like a fish caught on a line.

The lagarto rose, and as it rose, so it left its black and completely unarmoured underbelly exposed for the blade. Blake had pulled the monster into the air but leapt for it, swinging on her ribbon to glide gracefully around the thrashing monsters until she was descending upon its vulnerable gut, cleaver in one hand and Gambol Shroud switching from pistol to sword in the other.

Blake and Rainbow jumped at the lagarto simultaneously, yelling as they hit it with twin flying kicks that slammed the great grimm down onto its back with a splash of sewage, its legs waving helplessly in the air.

Blake buried both sword and cleaver in the belly of the grimm as she ran upwards, dragging her blades with her, slicing up the lagarto’s belly all the way to its snout as though she were unzipping a coat.

The grimm let out a last pathetic groan, and like the dead gator the huntresses had found in the tunnel, the grimm looked surprised for a moment before, unlike its cousin, starting to turn to black ashes and fade away to nothingness.

“Nicely done,” Rainbow said.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” Blake acknowledged graciously.

“Told you I had your back,” Rainbow said. She let out a sigh. “So, I guess we know which tunnel the grimm used to get into Mantle, huh?”

Indeed, it didn’t take them long after that to reach the end of the tunnel and find that not only had the heavy mesh over the tunnel entrance been smashed through – probably by the lagarto, with the sabyrs following behind – but the robot sentry guns that were supposed to keep the grimm from getting close to the mesh had been disabled, and most of them had been chewed up, too.

Blake frowned. “How could the defences fail so comprehensively?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow muttered. “But we should probably be grateful that it wasn’t a lot worse than one pride of sabyrs and one lagarto too big to get any further down the tunnel." Although it occurred to her that a grimm that big would also have been smart enough to know it couldn’t move any further into Mantle; probably it was trying to hold the tunnel while it waited for more grimm to show up. Good thing the sabyrs weren’t so smart and gave the game away too soon.

They called it in and held the position in case any more grimm emerged from the icy tundra or slithered out of the ice floe-laden river passing sluggishly down below – they didn’t – until the two of them were relieved by a company of engineers, who set about repairing the defences while under guard by several specialists, a large force of knights, and Skyrays and even a cruiser hovering protectively overhead.

They had been relieved, and it looked as though everything was in hand now, but nevertheless, Rainbow and Blake did not immediately head to the surface but stuck around, watching as troops were disgorged from the descending airships, and the technicians began to repair or replace the sentry guns and proximity sensors.

And so they were still there when one particular Skyray set down upon the snow, and General Ironwood himself leapt down from the side-hatch, his boots crunching the snow beneath his feet.

He looked around, and as he looked he saw the two young huntresses, who snapped to attention as his gaze fell upon them.

Rainbow felt sweat beat upon her brow in a way that it had not done when she was fighting with the lagarto, or the sabyrs for that matter. The General hadn’t spoken to her since…since she confessed. She had no idea what she was to him now, what he felt about her.

She didn’t know whether he would ignore her or insult her.

She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“At ease,” General Ironwood said as he strode up to them. “Belladonna.”

“Sir,” Blake said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Grimm entered one of our cities,” General Ironwood said. “Where could I be more important than this? You’re the one who discovered this breach in our defences?”

“We both discovered it together, sir,” Blake declared.

General Ironwood didn’t even look at her, but then he didn’t really seem to be looking at Blake either. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he murmured, more to himself than to either of them. “So how did it?”

The two huntresses, realising that this was not a question that they were expected to answer, kept silent.

General Ironwood, his hands clasped behind his back, turned away from them. “You’ve done enough for today. Get cleaned up, go home; this situation is under control.” He stopped. “And good work. Both of you.”

The Armour of Atlas

The Armour of Atlas

“…Military officials were swift to downplay the significance of the grimm incursion in Mantle.”

There were bars over the screen projected on the wall in the middle of the street; probably it was to stop people throwing things and damaging the screen, but it did make General Ironwood look kind of like he was broadcasting from prison as he appeared on the TV.

“While it is true that a small force of grimm was able to enter the city, this was due to a localised and short-term failure of the defensive grid that was swiftly found and corrected. Moreover, thanks to the presence of Atlesian huntsmen on the ground, the grimm were defeated without any civilian casualties. My message to the people of Mantle, to the people of our entire kingdom, is a simple one: you are under our protection, and while that remains true, you have nothing to fear.”

“However,” the newsreader said, their voice echoing out across the street. “Some community leaders in Mantle saw things differently.”

“Oh, come on,” Rainbow groaned. “Don’t tell me they’re going to put-“

Robyn Hill appeared on the screen, and on every screen up and down the street, wearing that stupid hobo-chic outfit that had Rarity in fits every time she had to look at it. “Our leaders may wish to characterise this as a localised failure,” she said. “They may wish to point out that nobody died – this time.”

“Because they didn’t,” Rainbow growled.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that thanks to the negligence of our so-called leaders, grimm were able to enter the midst of our city,” Robyn Hill declared. “And the truth is that this is considered acceptable because it’s our city, not theirs. Can you imagine this state of affairs being allowed to continue in Atlas? The truth is that General Ironwood sits in the clouds with the rest of the elite. And they prefer to direct their resources to solve the problems of far away people in a far away land than to look down at the difficulties that we face everyday here in Mantle. The truth is that until we have a voice in their councils, we will continue to be disposable in their eyes.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes.

“Why do so many people think like this?” Blake asked, her voice soft and touched by a little melancholy. “Why do so many people think that it has to be either or between helping Menagerie and anything else? Why are so many people acting as though my parents have stolen the lien out of their wallets?”

“Because they want something to be mad about,” Rainbow replied. “Robyn Hill especially wants something to be mad about, or else she’d have nothing to say, and they’d stop sticking a camera in her face every time something bad happens.”

“Robyn Hill?” Blake repeated. “Isn’t she the one you mentioned before?”

“Yeah, I think I might have brought her up.”

“You said she was a crook.”

“She is!” Rainbow declared. And a traitor to boot.

“Then why is she being interviewed as a community leader?” Blake asked, confusion in her voice.

“Because nothing ever sticks to her,” Rainbow growled like an angry dog resisting the urge to bite something. “They – let me tell you something about the Happy Huntresses, okay? Don’t believe the hype, none of those clowns could cut it in the military so they hang around Mantle and claim they’re protecting the city, but I didn’t see them around when the grimm showed up, did you?”

“No,” Blake acknowledged. “But it was a surprise.”

“They wouldn’t have been there if they’d been given a week's notice,” Rainbow replied contemptuously. “Everyone knows that they steal from military bases, everyone knows that they hijack convoys, just like everyone knows that they run from anything scarier than an AK-200; only problem is that nobody can prove it. And in the meantime, every chance she gets, Robyn Hill is on TV trying to make General Ironwood look bad. It makes me sick.”

Blake wrapped one arm around herself, holding on to her elbow. “Why do you hate them so much?”

Rainbow ran one hand through the fringe of her multi-coloured hair. “You think I’m exaggerating.”

“I think you sound pretty mad about this for someone you don’t know and don’t have much to do with,” Blake said, her voice soft, curious without being accusatory. “I’ve never seen you get this worked up about the White Fang and yet these people...I suppose I’d just like to understand.”

The White Fang never betrayed the uniform, Rainbow thought to herself, but didn’t say because she wasn’t sure how to explain it to Blake, or even if she wanted to explain it to Blake. Could she explain that Robyn Hill had been the top student at Atlas Academy when Rainbow was starting out in Combat School, how she had been the talk of the whole academy system? Rainbow sighed from between gritted teeth. “I bet…I bet you were always going to be something great, weren’t you? Your parents were the leaders of the White Fang, and then…I bet Sienna Khan was teaching you how to lead so that you could be the big boss one day, wasn’t she?”

Blake shuffled uncomfortably in place. “Yes, that’s…unfortunately true.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight or upset you or anything, it’s just how it is,” Rainbow said. “Some people are just born special: people like you, people like Pyrrha, nobody’s going to let you grow up to be some mediocre nobody that no one knows or remembers. You were born with big dreams riding on you.”

“Uh, I suppose,” Blake said, uncertainty in her voice. “What does this have to do with the Happy Huntresses?”

The point is that Robyn Hill is one of those people; she was like what Pyrrha is to Mistral, that’s what Robyn Hill was to all of us studying to get into Atlas and train to become huntsmen and huntresses. To Rainbow Dash especially. She didn’t know a lot of huntsmen outside of her connection through Twilight; General Ironwood - and even Shining Armour to an extent - was too far away to be an example to strive towards, but Robyn Hill? Even if everybody said she was a surefire bet to succeed the general as commander in chief one day she wasn’t there. She was still someone that a person like Rainbow Dash could reach for...until she walked away from it all, and spat on everything that Rainbow aspired to reach and on everyone who had admired her besides. Rainbow couldn’t forgive that...but she was a little afraid that if she put it like that to Blake it would seem really petty, so she took a different tack with what she actually told her fellow huntress.“I wasn’t born with anyone’s dreams,” Rainbow said. “Me and Gilda, growing up in Low Town, we…I’m sure you can guess what we were like.”

“I can guess what you’re implying,” Blake answered. “But I’m having a hard time picturing you as some kind of delinquent.”

Rainbow grinned. “Yeah, well…that’s the point, isn’t it? I got the chance to be something more, to make something more of myself, because of Twilight and especially because of General Ironwood. He saw that I could be somebody and so he helped me along the way because he cares. Because he cares about this kingdom and everyone else in it more than anyone else I know, and I hate seeing people like Robyn Hill talk about him like he’s some kind of heartless automaton when I guarantee that he cares a whole lot more than she does, and I hate the way that people like her look down on people like me because we wanted a little more than…this!” she waved her arms to encompass the dingy Mantle street on which they stood. She sighed. “Or perhaps I’m just mad at everyone else because I’m mad at myself. Take your pick. Either way, we should get going.” She turned away from the television screen on the wall and continued on her way down the street, thrusting her hands into her pockets as she walked, leaving Blake to catch up with her.

“In other news,” the voice of the newscaster followed them away from the television. “Councillor Bradley resigned today on the grounds of his continued ill-health, which he has said made it impossible for him to continue to perform his duties to the kingdom. The councillor, who has served on the Atlas Council for thirty-eight years, suffered a series of strokes beginning a month ago and has been in and out of hospital since. Though as yet unconfirmed, a special election to fill the vacant seat on the council seems likely. Councillor Cadenza paid tribute-“

“Great, more Robyn Hill,” Rainbow muttered. “She’ll run for that council seat and never be off the news.”

“How do you know she’ll run?” Blake asked.

“Because you just heard her,” Rainbow said. “Talking about a voice for Mantle on the council. She’s talking about her.”

Blake nodded. “Will she win?”

“I hope not,” Rainbow said. The very prospect was enough to make her shudder. Surely people were smarter than that.

“Hmm,” Blake mused. “Maybe…have you ever considered that…while she’s clearly wrong about General Ironwood, does that have to mean that she doesn’t have a point?”

Rainbow stopped dead in her tracks. “Whose side are you on?”

“The side that can see that this city is awful?” Blake suggested. “Look at Atlas, and then look here, it’s like night and day. No wonder Ilia’s parents wanted to get her out of Mantle and into Atlas, no wonder Rarity left Mantle for Atlas; don’t you think there’s something a little unbalanced about the fact that one city should be so prosperous and the other should be so poor?”

“I…maybe?” Rainbow admitted. “But it’s always been like this.”

“People saying that are the reason things don’t change,” Blake pointed out. “I’m sorry, I just…I don’t want my parents and Menagerie to be blamed for the state of Mantle.”

“You know that has nothing to do with the reason Mantle is the way it is, right?”

“I know,” Blake replied. “But does everyone else?”

Rainbow winced a little. “I guess I see what you mean. I don’t see what’s going to change it, though.”

“Neither do I,” Blake admitted. “Not yet, at least. How much longer till we reach your friends’ place?”

“I think it’s just up ahead,” Rainbow said, and once more she led the way through the streets of Mantle.

Yeah, Rainbow had to admit that Blake had kind of a point about the state of this city, and if Robyn Hill had been more willing to phrase it the way Blake did instead of sounding like anyone who didn’t like it here was the scum of Remnant or that General Ironwood ought to be down here collecting the garbage, then maybe Rainbow would have listened to her too, because…okay, it wasn’t a particularly nice place, what with the graffiti and the smog and the stains on the pavement like someone had thrown up there, but just because you could look at something and see that it wasn’t great didn’t mean that you could change it, or even see how it needed to be changed.

She wasn’t here to think about ways to save Mantle, she was here to answer for someone that she’d left behind.

Rainbow led Blake around a corner, to a narrow street occupied by businesses that were small in every sense; half of the fronts here were shuttered up, and covered in graffiti in lurid greens and reds, while the remaining places were narrow, as if they were being squeezed out by the city tightening around them: a record store, a hobby shop with painted miniature grimm in the window, an antique booksellers; and an art gallery-cum-studio, owned – or rented, maybe – by Rainbow’s old team-mate, Spearhead.

Rainbow stopped, and glanced at Blake. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Blake replied. “Although I’m a little surprised that you want me here.”

“I might need someone to push me through the doorway,” Rainbow said, not entirely jokingly. “I…I haven’t actually seen this guy since he retired. I’m not sure how happy he’ll be to see me.”

“You’ve been busy,” Blake pointed out.

“Yeah, too busy for a friend,” Rainbow muttered. She snorted. “Come on, let’s go.”

Blake nodded, and the two of them crossed the deserted street to Spearhead Studio, the name painted in red letters on the slightly dirty board above the door. Rainbow pushed the door open – it creaked a little – and led the way inside.

It was about as small as it looked from the outside, which meant that there was just about room for the two of them to stand side by side, hemmed in by the bare brick walls and by the sculptures that jutted out on either side of them.

Rainbow’s eyes were drawn to one of those sculptures, the nearest one to the door. She stared at it, turning her head this way and that as she tried to get a handle on what it was. It looked as though Spearhead had taken a lot of guns – mostly they were standard issue AR-30s, but Rainbow could also see a couple of gun arms stripped from AK-190s in there too – and melted them together in a kind of weird, twisty pattern that rose up off the plinth and then kind of went all over the place. Spent cartridges painted green stuck out of the rifle barrels at odd points, scattered all over the top levels of the sculpture.

“Is this art?” Rainbow murmured. “Or a mistake?”

“It’s a tree,” Blake replied, a slight smile upon her face.

Rainbow looked from Blake to the misshapen sculpture and back again. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Blake said. “See, those robot arms form the trunk rising upwards, then the rifles are the branches spreading outwards, all those green cartridges are the leaves.”

Rainbow looked at the sculpture again. Her eyes narrowed. “I…guess?”

“I like it,” Blake said. “The way that these weapons of destruction have been used to create something beautiful.”

“Always a pleasure to meet a fellow art lover!” the deep, jovial voice of Spearhead boomed out across the little gallery as he emerged from out of the back room. Spearhead was a bear of a man with a two-toned blue mane in waves of alternating paleness, mostly combed out of his forehead but with a few rogue strands falling down over his left eye. He was plainly dressed, in the kind of drab clothes that a lot of folks in Mantle favoured, except for the red and pale pink bandana tied around his neck. His right arm was a prosthetic, visible by the metallic hand emerging from out of his sleeve. “Especially when she’s a friend of my old buddy Rainbow Dash!” He strode rapidly across the distance separating the two of them, holding out his metal hand curled into a fist. “Long time no see. Give me some skin!”

Rainbow smiled awkwardly. “Hey, Spearhead,” she said, as she curled up her own hand and thrust it out for a fist-bump.

Spearhead’s prosthetic hand slammed into Rainbow’s hand like a truck. Rainbow gasped, her eyes watering just a little, but she didn’t have time to say anything before Spearhead pulled her into a bear-hug.

“It is so good to see you, dude!” Spearhead cried, squeezing Dash a little tighter still before she let her go. “And – I’m sorry, where are my manners. Ash Spearhead, at your service.”

“Blake Belladonna,” Blake said. “It’s a pleasure to meet an old friend of Rainbow Dash.”

Spearhead’s eyes widened. “Blake Belladonna? The Blake Belladonna? The Warrior Princess of Menagerie?”

“Please don’t call me that,” Blake murmured, looking away in embarrassment. “I didn’t ask for anyone to give me that nickname.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” Spearhead said quickly. “Believe me, I know how much of a struggle it can be to escape the expectations placed on you by your appearance. You have no idea how hard it is for some people to accept that someone like me could be an artist.”

“I suppose it wasn’t so hard for anyone to accept that you were a huntsman in training,” Blake suggested.

“No,” Spearhead agreed. “But after I lost my arm it was a wake-up call that this life wasn’t for me. Don’t get me wrong, massive respect to Dashie here, and you and all those other dudes out there putting their lives on the line for us, but personally, I’d rather make art than war, you know?”

Blake nodded. “I’ve come to think of it like: if everyone was a huntsman, there wouldn’t be anything worth protecting.”

Spearhead nodded. “Exactly. Speaking of protecting, I hear that a couple of huntresses were right there when some grimm busted out into the city. Wouldn’t happen to be you two, would it?”

“How could you possibly know that?” Rainbow demanded.

“'Cause I know you, dude, you always got to be in the thick of the action,” Spearhead said, ruffling Rainbow’s hair with one hand. “Thanks for keeping us safe, Rainbow Dash.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Rainbow said, retreating out of Spearhead’s reach. “Not when I came here to apologise to you.”

Spearhead’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Dash, come on; what could you possibly have to apologise to me for?”

“You know what, dude, come on, you don’t have to pretend,” Rainbow said. “You were my team-mate and I should have kept in touch after you dropped out but…I didn’t, and that was a jerk move and I’m sorry for it.”

Spearhead stared down at her for a moment. “So what happened?”

Rainbow blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

“I mean what changed?” Spearhead said. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely great to see you, but you didn’t come around before and you’re mentioning it specifically, so…what?”

Rainbow thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She scuffed her foot back and forth across the floor. “I…I messed up. I messed up big time and that…it’s kind of making me think of all the other ways that I messed up before, and the people that I messed up with. Like I said, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m trying to- wait, what?”

Spearhead grinned. “What, did you think I was going to hold a grudge? I’ve missed you too much for that, dude; and besides, I don’t want to be one of your problems, not when you got others going on too. And besides, I still owe you for saving my life, right?”

“You saved his life?” Blake asked.

“Dude! You never told her the story?” Spearhead demanded.

Blake folded her arms. “No, she never did.”

“It’s not that much of the story,” Rainbow said. “We were on a mission, there were more grimm than we thought there’d be, Spearhead was wounded, I carried him back to the Skygrasper, the end.”

“The end?” Spearhead said. “No way is that the end of the story. I got wounded, and then Dash carried me back to the Skygrasper, sure; but then she went back for Maud and Applejack and got both of them out too and made sure they weren’t wounded. And she did all of that in spite of the fact that she’d been ordered to cut her losses and pull out. You’re in good hands with this one, Blake; Rainbow Dash won’t ever leave a team-mate behind.”

Blake smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ve seen that for myself.”

“Normally I don’t mind being told how great I am, but that’s not what I came here for so will you knock it off,” Rainbow said. “I…this isn’t how I thought this was going to go.”

“But isn’t it better?” Spearhead asked.

Rainbow hesitated. “Yeah, yeah it is,” she admitted. “How have you been, Spearhead?”

“Like I said, I’ve found my true calling,” Spearhead declared. “That’s another reason why I can’t stay mad at you: this place is a temple to Art, and art is supposed to provoke thought and understanding, not make you feel worse coming out than you did coming in.” He looked at Blake. “So, you like the Tree of Peace, huh?”

Blake looked again at the weapon-made sculpture. “I really do,” she said.

“Would you like to have it?” Spearhead asked. “On the house to a friend of Rainbow Dash.”

“I couldn’t just take something you’ve worked on without paying for it.”

“Please,” Spearhead said. “Art should be for everyone to appreciate, not just those who can afford it.”

“Is that why you’re stuck here instead of having a bigger space?” Rainbow asked.

“I have room to create, and room to hang,” Spearhead said. “What more could I want?”

More of both? Rainbow thought.

“Would you like the tree?” Spearhead repeated. “You’d be honouring me if you took it with you. Think of it as a belated ‘Welcome to Atlas’ gift.”

Blake looked the sculpture up and down, sizing it up. “There’s room for this in our room, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Rainbow said. “I mean, it isn’t exactly standard, but I think we’ll get away with it.”

“Thank you,” Blake said. “It really is a very nice piece.”

“I consider it one of my journeyman works,” Spearhead said. “This is my latest piece,” he added, directing their attention towards a broad canvas painted almost entirely black, but spotted with little red dots as though he’d gotten a red paintbrush and flicked it over the canvas. “I call it: the Watch of the Huntsman.”

“Nice,” Rainbow said, thinking that she wished she’d noticed it sooner and asked for that instead of the tree made out of guns.

“It’s a little…dark,” Blake observed.

“That’s the point,” Rainbow said. “Its darkness filled with grimm staring out at us from the night. It’s a perfect representation of what we’re fighting against!”

“The beauty of art is the way that it speaks to different people in different ways,” Spearhead said. “Unfortunately I can’t let you walk out with my whole gallery.”

Rainbow sniggered. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking for another freebie.”

“Thanks, dude. Art should be free, but I need something to live on, you know,” Spearhead said. “Say, Blake, how would you like to be a part of my ongoing masterpiece?”

“Uh, ongoing masterpiece?” Blake repeated.

“Just give me a second,” Spearhead said, as he pulled out his scroll. “I don’t usually go in for virtual art, but in this particular case, I can’t think of a better medium for it. Now, hold it right there.”

Blake was currently slightly side on to him, facing the Watch of the Huntsman, her head turned to face Spearhead. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Spearhead said, as he took the picture. “That’s great.”

“How come I’m not in your ongoing masterpiece?” Rainbow asked.

“You are,” Spearhead replied. “Come through, both of you, and you can take a look at it.” He turned away, and headed into the back room. “I’m not sure that I’ll ever finish this, but it sure is something cool to work on.”

Rainbow and Blake followed him into the back room, where various pieces were in various stages of completion: a beowolf head made out of various pieces of scrap metal, something that looked like a lot of footprints on a canvas, and in the centre of the room, being projected out of a holo-emitter on the floor, the image of General Ironwood, presented as a giant looming over Atlas floating in the foreground, with his ships on either side of him, flying diagonally upwards and away from him.

Except, as Rainbow got closer, she could see that it wasn’t really a picture of the general at all. Or, rather, it had General Ironwood’s face, it was his head, but his body wasn’t really a picture of his body, although it was the right shape; rather, the body was made up hundreds, maybe thousands of little images, some of them bigger than others, some of them changing size and position as she watched. As she bent down and leaned forwards, Rainbow realised that she could see herself in the immense collage, and Applejack too, and Maud; their pictures scattered across the general’s body; she spotted Twilight too, wearing a lab coat, and Rainbow remembered that when Twi had come down to do some work on their weapons as a favour, Spearhead had taken a picture of her; she could see Trixie, and Starlight and Sunburst, too. And there were others, lots of others, huntsmen and huntresses looking out at her from hundreds of tiny images that, if you stopped looking so closely and stepped back, all seemed to blend together to form the body of General Ironwood: the defenders of Atlas all coming together and combining into a single object, mightier than all of them.

“Every huntsman or huntress that I ever meet gets their picture on here,” Spearhead said, as he pushed a few buttons on his scroll to add Blake’s photo to the collage, the whole work moving and shifting a little to accommodate her. “I call it the Armour of Atlas, and you’re all a part of it.”

“Yes,” Blake said. “Yes, I am.” She smiled. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The Armour of Atlas.

Rainbow was reminded of Spearhead’s work as she stood before the These Are My Jewels statue back in Atlas, looking at all photos that people had stuck on the memorial, beneath the lady and the statues of the soldier and the specialists and all the rest who surrounded her just like they guarded Atlas.

It was raining over Atlas, and the raindrops fell thick and fast, the rain flattening her hair down over her forehead, and trickling down Rainbow’s face, but she didn’t flinch from them. She let them fall upon her, and as they fell she looked up at the monument to the sacrifice of Atlas that loomed above her.

She looked at all the pictures stuck upon the plinth of tall dark stone. She could see Flynt Coal and Neon Katt, the latter standing out with her vibrant hair, grinning out of the same photograph together. They were just two amongst a sea of faces; it was safe to say that there were a lot more pictures on this monument after the Battle of Vale than there had been before, and it hadn’t exactly been barren then.

But now there were so many it was getting to the point there wasn’t room for any more.

It was a tradition that you didn’t keep the pictures on the plinth; no matter how much you continued to feel the loss, no matter how evergreen your grief continued to grow, you put the picture up and then you let it be blown away by the wind, turned to mush by the rain, fall off and get trampled underfoot; you didn’t keep refreshing the picture of the one you’d lost, you accepted that Atlas would move on even if you couldn’t, and there would be more recent sacrifices that also deserved to be remembered.

But there had been so many sacrifices so quickly, in such a short space of time, that they had all ended up here at once. So many jewels of Atlas that had ceased to shine.

And it’s my fault. It’s all very well for Blake to tell me that I just have to move forward and do better, but how am I supposed to move forward when this is what I’m leaving behind me?

“What troubles you, young soldier of Atlas?”

Rainbow looked around, startled by the sudden intrusion into her thoughts. A woman stood beside her, middle aged maybe although it was hard to tell because she had a kind of ageless quality about her; her skin was so smooth it was like a baby, but at the same time her eyes were so old it kind of reminded Rainbow of Beacon’s Professor Ozpin. Her hair was dark, and tied up into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she was dressed in a dark blue suit, with a white shirt underneath. She held a black umbrella above her head, to protect herself from the rain that pattered down upon them both, while in her other arm she held a bouquet of blue flowers, the blue deepening the closer to the edge of the petal it got.

“Ma’am?” Rainbow asked.

The woman glanced at the statue, her eyes travelling down from the ancient lady atop the plinth, to the words, to the photographs beneath. “Sits one of your friends upon this place?”

Rainbow frowned. “No,” she said. “Some of them were my classmates, a lot of them were my comrades, but…I couldn’t honestly call them my friends.”

“Then what troubles your heart so?”

Rainbow looked away from her. “I’d rather not say, ma’am.”

“I see,” she said. She knelt down, and placed the bouquet at the base of the statue. “These flowers,” she said, “are the hardiest of all blooms in the world; able to endure the cold and the lack of sunlight as no other flowers are. Not only in greenhouses or arboretums do they grow, but they can be found blooming even in the midst of the frozen tundra where nothing else grows; and so they are called the Flower of the North.”

“I see,” Rainbow murmured. So that’s what Ciel means.

The woman took a step back. “You were not their friend, but you were not so distant from them that the feeling of responsibility for their deaths does not affect you.”

Rainbow felt her spine turn to ice. Her eyes widened as she slowly turned her head to look at the woman standing beside her. “How do you-“

“I know much,” the woman said. “But fear not, soldier of Atlas, I am not here to judge. I leave that to other powers.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. The rain trickled down her face like teardrops. “I killed them,” she whispered.

“Is that so? Was it your hand that held the blade? Or fired the weapon?”

“It was my tongue that was tied,” Rainbow answered. “If I had said something sooner then maybe…maybe things would have been different…somehow.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, somehow!” Rainbow snapped.

The woman’s face was impassive. Her voice remained as smooth as silk, and as gentle as the flowing of a shallow stream. “Your silence was your error, and you rightly bear the shame of it, but to presume that the course of history lies upon your one fault? To claim for yourself the heavy mantle of so many deaths? That is rank presumption, to dismiss out of hand all choices made by others, all deeds performed by other hands, all words spoken by other tongues. Not even the prophets and the kings of old were so vain of their own import. The power of choice is not accorded merely to the chosen few, but to all men be they ever so low or ever so exalted. Many choices led to the battle in which these brave flowers ceased to bloom; some even more important than your own. Many choices marked the way that ended with the falling of these most honoured sons and daughters of the north, not least of which their choice to stand and fight in the face of terror rather than flee before its coming.”

“What are you trying to say, ma’am?” Rainbow asked. “That it didn’t matter what I said or didn’t say?”

The woman was silent for a moment. “Do you know the origin of the words upon this statue: these are my jewels?”

“No, ma’am.”

“They are the words of a queen who ruled this land in ancient times,” the woman said. “Wealthy and powerful, one day an ambassador from a foreign land asked her why she wore no jewellery about her; in reply she called for her sons, embraced them both about the shoulders and spoke those words: these are my jewels. But when I read those words, I am also reminded of another tale, a much older one, almost a myth from the very early days of Mantle, of how one day a great chasm appeared in the centre of the city. At a loss, the elders of Mantle consulted a wise old man, who told them the chasm would not be closed unless they gave unto the earth the greatest treasure of these northern lands. Into the chasm the people threw gold, jewels, dust dug from the mines, all to no avail; until one day, a young girl claimed to have the answer: the greatest treasure of the north was not its dust or wealth, but its fighters of surpassing courage and so, armed for battle and dressed in all her armour, she threw herself down into the pit…and the chasm closed above her.

“The wealth of these lands is greater now than it was then, but the courage of its warriors remains the greatest treasure of the kingdom. Honour the valour of those who fell, honour them by showing that same courage as you continue the fight in which they made the ultimate sacrifice, but do not insult them by claiming even to yourself to be the architect of their fall. They deserve better than that, and you…you are better than that.”

“Am I?” Rainbow asked. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I see your heart, Rainbow Dash, soldier of Atlas,” she said. “Just as I see that Atlas has not run out of need for you yet. On your feet, daughter of the north, your battles are not yet concluded, and you will need all your steadfastness and resolve for those which lie ahead.”

Rainbow stared at her. “Who are you?” she asked.

The lady smiled at her. “One who watches,” she said. “one who listens; and one who speaks, upon occasion.”

Rainbow looked away, her gaze once more upon the photographs of the fallen, travelling upwards to the white lady sat atop the plinth. She came to attention, and saluted all her fallen comrades.

“I won’t let you down again,” she declared. She looked to the woman, to thank her, to ask again how she knew all that she had known but…she was gone. She was nowhere to be seen, not there, not walking away, not anywhere that Rainbow looked for her. She had vanished, completely, as though she had never been.

“What the…” Rainbow muttered. Had she imagined the whole thing? No, the flowers were still there. But then, where she did go so quickly? And how had she known Rainbow’s secret?

What had just happened to her?

What just happened is that I made a promise. A promise to everyone who gave their lives. A promise to Atlas. A promise to myself.

General Ironwood picked me because I saved the lives of Applejack and Maud, because I chose to save their lives rather than fall back.

But there has to be a line, and I crossed it at Mountain Glenn and then I lied about it afterwards.

I won’t let Atlas down again.

She turned and walked away, her footsteps squelching a little as she moved down the rainy street, leaving the dead to keep their watch behind her.

She was soaking wet by the time that she arrived at Sugarcube Corner, which led to her standing in the doorway after she walked in, dripping on the step for a bit because she didn’t want to trail water any further inside.

Mrs Cake was standing behind the counter. She looked up and saw Rainbow standing there. “Oh, hello dear. It’s been a long time.”

“Well…yeah, I guess it has, Mrs C,” Rainbow said. She hadn’t felt like coming around her much after she’d…decided to stop seeing her friends. It was hard to avoid them in this place, and it felt like a space that she should cede to the rest of them.

I was a real idiot, wasn’t I?

“Well, never mind, it's good to see you again,” Mrs Cake said genially. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just a coffee, thanks.”

“Of course,” Mrs Cake said. “And in the meantime, you know where everyone is.”

Rainbow did, indeed, know where everyone was. Not just because they were sitting around the same table they always sat at, but because they’d all been staring at her since she walked through the door.

They were looking at her like she was an ursa; which was ironic because a part of Rainbow Dash would have rather faced five ursai with only her bare hands than done this right now.

But Blake was right, this was something that she had to do.

And so, while Mrs Cake made her coffee, Rainbow – now not dripping quite so much water on the floor – made her way over to them. Her steps were slow, as if she’d been walking in cement not sewage earlier in the day that it had all solidified around her shoes. She kept looking away, or down at the floor she was dripping water on.

She still had trouble meeting their eyes, Pinkie’s especially.

They didn’t have any problem staring at her, but that was part of the problem: they looked nervous of her, wary of her, and it…it made her ashamed of herself. She couldn’t believe that she had actually gotten to the point where her own friends were worried about what she might say to them.

I’ve really messed everything up lately, haven’t I? I’m such an idiot.

Rainbow stopped, looking down at all them. When she could bring herself to look at them at all. “Hey, girls,” she said.

“Hey, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight murmured.

Rainbow looked away, as she reached up and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I came here to say…I came here to say I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, about everything, but especially about how I acted to you, Pinkie. I was a complete jerk and I was way out of line and there’s no excuse for what I did. There’s no excuse for anything that I did.”

“Then why’d ya do it?” Applejack asked.

“Because I was angry at myself, and so I got angry at you,” Rainbow admitted. “I know that I’ve been a complete…but I can’t imagine my life without the five of you in it, or at least I don’t want to, so, I guess what I’m asking is, can I join you?”

Twilight got up from off the arm of the sofa on which she’d been sitting. She smiled. “Welcome back, Rainbow Dash,” she said, as she pulled Rainbow into a hug.

Rainbow stood there for a moment, feeling Twilight’s arms around her, feeling how light Twi felt even when she was leaning with her whole weight on Rainbow Dash. Gently, she put her arms round Twilight Sparkle in turn. “I’ve missed you, Twi.”

They were joined first by Fluttershy, arms reaching out to encompass both of them, and then Rarity. Applejack was the next to rise to her feet.

“You can be as stubborn as a mule sometimes, and about as smart as one too,” she said. She grinned. “But we all knew that when we became your friends, and you ought to know by now that we care about you anyway. Welcome home, sugarcube.”

“Thanks, Applejack,” Rainbow said. She craned her neck a little to look at the last member of their group, the one who hadn’t said or done anything yet. “Pinkie Pie?”

Pinkie wasn’t looking at Rainbow, or any of them; she was turned away, her face hidden behind her mass of poofy hair. When she turned back again, her eyes were filled with tears. “Rainbow Dash…I…oh, come here!”

The others had just enough time to gasp as she flew through the air towards them, tackling them all and bringing them down in a heap on the floor. They lay there for a moment, a tangle of arms and legs; and then, as one, they started to laugh.

I’ll never let you go again, Rainbow thought, as the sounds of their laughter filled Sugarcube Corner.

Blake wasn’t entirely sure why General Ironwood had asked her to report to him in his home instead of at his office, but nevertheless, that lack of understanding had not prevented her from presenting herself at his door. She had been a little surprised to find out that he didn’t live on campus at Atlas Academy, but she supposed that there was no actual need for him to do so, and in any case, he still lived very close by; the shadow of Atlas loomed high in the sky overhead as Blake arrived at the General’s modest house.

The house itself looked almost as though someone had started building a tower block, and then got bored after the second floor and decided to stop there. The building was square, and built of hard grey stone, with the lines of a concrete superstructure jutting out of the walls in a brutalist style.

Blake folded up her umbrella as she stepped into the shelter of the porch, and flapped it once or twice to shake the water droplets off. She pushed the button on the intercom beside the door.

There was no picture on the screen, but the voice of General Ironwood issued forth. “Who is it?”

“Specialist Belladonna reporting as ordered, sir,” Blake said.

“Of course. Come in, Belladonna,” General Ironwood said. There was a buzzing sound, and the door swung open just a fraction.

Blake pushed it open the rest of the way as she walked inside, wiping her wet feet on the grey mat and sticking her umbrella in a gleaming metallic stand placed conveniently by the doorway. The walls were a soft grey, while the carpet underneath her feet was a pale blue. A three-tier shoe rack sat not far from the door, but only one tier was being occupied, by a pair of boots that Blake took to be the General’s. The door to a minimalist living room was open, of which the most notable thing was a pair of empty sword-stands above the mantelpiece, surprising Blake because she hadn’t thought General Ironwood was the type to collect ceremonial swords. The hallway stretched out in front of her, while a set of stairs just to her right led upwards.

“Come on up, Belladonna,” General Ironwood called down to her from upstairs.

“Yes, sir,” Blake replied, as she began to climb the stairs. She arrived on the landing, to see General Ironwood standing in the washroom, presenting his profile to her as he shaved. He didn’t acknowledge her presence.

Blake looked around. There were three hooks for keys upon the wall, but only one of them actually held a set of keys. There were three bedroom doors, all of them shut. On the wall was hung a picture of the general himself, and a young girl with long dark hair standing beside him, holding his hand.

Blake couldn’t help but stare at the picture, as the only human touch in an otherwise austere home it naturally drew the eye; the general was a grown man in it – even if he looked a little younger than he was now – which meant that girl couldn’t be his sister, so-

“That’s my daughter, Aska,” General Ironwood said as he emerged from the washroom, wiping the last of the shaving foam from off his face. He was wearing a black shirt, but with no sign yet of his jacket or tie. “That was taken on her birthday when she was eight years old.”

Blake straightened to attention. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t apologise. I can’t invite you into my home and then complain that you have eyes.”

“Yes, sir,” Blake said. “I…I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

General Ironwood frowned for a moment. “Aska and I are…not as close as I would like.”

The feeling of sympathy that Blake felt for her commander in that moment was swiftly followed by a far stronger feeling of guilt as she thought about her own father, far away in Menagerie. Despite all the travelling back and forth that her mother and Councillor Cadenza had been doing lately, she hadn’t written her father a letter in spite of all the times that mom had asked her to. She hadn’t been able to decide what she wanted to say. Did he tell visitors into his palace that they weren’t as close as he would like?

I’ve been away for so long that any pictures of me will be the only proof he has a daughter.

When the tower goes up, I’ll call him.

If I can think of what I ought to say to him by then.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Blake repeated. “And about your wife, as well.”

“What? Oh, no,” General Ironwood replied. “There was…Aska is adopted. I never…quite found the time.” He cleared his throat, and in so doing drew a line under that part of the conversation; at least that was how Blake took it anyway. “I’m sorry to bring you down here for this, instead of doing it at the office,” he said. “I have a dinner engagement, and not much time.”

“Business or pleasure, sir?” Blake asked, as Ironwood opened the door into one of the other rooms and disappeared inside.

“Definitely business,” General Ironwood said from inside the room. “I have to lobby Councillor Sleet over this year’s appropriations bill.” He reappeared, wearing his jacket unbuttoned and doing up his tie. “I wanted to repeat that you did good work in Mantle today.”

“I wasn’t alone down there, sir,” Blake said.

General Ironwood gave a grunt that might have been an acknowledgement of that fact. “This was your first time in Mantle, wasn’t it?” he asked, as he began to fasten his jacket.

“Yes sir.”

“Thoughts?”

“Uh, permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“Why has one of Atlas’ own cities been allowed to become so…degraded?” Blake asked, after searching for a word that didn’t sound too condemnatory. But the truth was...a part of her almost wanted to condemn. She had seen the state of Low Town, but she had told herself that it was allowed to exist because it was home only to faunus; that didn’t make it right but it meant that Blake could hope that, as the condition of the faunus in Atlas improved, so the existence of a place like Low Town would become intolerable. Mantle threatened that cosy belief, suggesting that there were some in Atlas who were perfectly content to abandon the poor whether they were human or faunus. If Mantle was allowed to exist, would Low Town ever change? “Atlas is supposed to be a shining beacon to the world, but Mantle at the moment seems like a stain on Atlas.”

“I know what you mean,” General Ironwood replied. “The situation is far from ideal, but as commander of the military, all I can do is defend Mantle, I can’t solve all its problems.”

“What about your seats on the council, sir?”

General Ironwood finished fastening his jacket. “I’m afraid that even the council can’t solve all of Mantle’s problems,” he said. “Although that doesn’t stop certain people from talking as though the council, or even me personally, could fix everything if we wished to do so.”

“Robyn Hill,” Blake murmured.

“You know of her?”

“Rainbow Dash has…given me the benefit of her views,” Blake said, settling for what she hoped was a neutral way of phrasing it.

General Ironwood seemed amused. “You’ll find that Robyn Hill and her followers aren’t too popular with a lot of people in the military. Did Dash tell you that she used to be one of us?”

“I…” Blake hesitated. She recalled what Rainbow had said about the Happy Huntresses not being able to cut it in the military. “She might have hinted at it.”

“Hill was one of my most gifted students, an exemplar to all aspiring huntsmen in Atlas and at the combat schools,” Ironwood said. “But after graduation, she decided to devote her life to the service of Mantle instead of the good of Atlas and mankind. Someone who walks away from an organisation or a cause often isn’t very well liked amongst those who stay behind. Especially amongst those who looked up to them.”

“I know the feeling, sir,” Blake reminded him, thinking of Strongheart and Ilia.

General Ironwood hesitated for a moment. “Of course,” he said, “I can’t say that I’m immune to those feelings myself. I am…very disappointed by the choices that Hill has made since leaving the military.”

“Speaking for those who walk away, I’m sure that she’s doing what she thinks is right,” Blake said. “Even if it isn’t obvious to those she left behind.”

“I’m sure she does, but you’ll forgive me if I have a hard time overlooking theft of my equipment,” General Ironwood replied.

“Of course not, sir,” Blake said quickly. “I just meant that-”

“That Mantle could use all the help it can get?” General Ironwood suggested. “That doesn’t excuse breaking the law.”

“I understand that, sir.”

“Mantle does have a lot of problems,” General Ironwood acknowledged. “Some of them could be solved if the SDC paid its workers more; some of them, I fear, are insoluble; the Mantle mines have been slowly running dry since Nicholas Schnee’s day. Once the last mine is tapped out, then the city will die.”

“Unless it can find some other way to support itself,” Blake said.

“Easy to say, harder to find,” General Ironwood replied.

“With all due respect, sir, did you really call me up here to talk about Mantle?”

“I called you here in part because I wanted to see how you’d reacted to Mantle,” General Ironwood said.

“I see, sir,” Blake said softly. “And, if I may ask?”

“As conscientious as I expected,” General Ironwood declared. “I also called you here to warn you.”

Blake frowned. “Warn me, sir?”

“The defences in Mantle shouldn’t have failed that way,” General Ironwood said. “A pride of sabrys and a lagarto shouldn’t have been able to destroy those guns without being killed in the process. Preliminary evidence suggests they were sabotaged.”

Blake’s eyes widened. “Sabotaged? By who?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I have my suspicions,” General Ironwood said. He got out his scroll, and ran his fingers over it until it was displaying a photograph of a middle-aged man, tall and slender, with sallow skin and a walrus moustache covering his upper lip. “This is Doctor Arthur Watts.”

“Watts,” Blake repeated. “As in-“

“The very same,” General Ironwood said. “It’s been clear ever since the aborted attack on the Vale CCT that Salem has an agent of extraordinary technical skill, and Watts is exactly the kind of man who would be willing to work for her.”

“I understand, sir, but why would he come back to Mantle?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not willing to wait to find out,” General Ironwood said.

Blake nodded. “That’s where I come in, sir.”

“You’re the best huntress I have whom I can also trust completely,” General Ironwood said. “And whom I can move without raising questions. I want you to go back to Mantle, find Watts, and bring him in: dead or alive.”

Blake stood to attention. “Yes, sir.”

Abacus Cinch walked through the streets of Atlas, holding an umbrella over her head to keep the rain that had been falling all day off her head.

Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles as she heard the following footsteps of someone behind her. She stopped, and so did they.

Cinch inhaled through her nostrils, and resumed walking. So did her shadow.

She stopped again, and reached into the pocket of her jacket for Final Marker; her hand closed around the seemingly innocuous pen as she turned to face her pursuer.

“Good evening, my dear Brigadier General; a lot of weather we seem to be having at the moment. Or should that be Principal now?”

Cinch’s eyes widened. “Arthur?”

Doctor Arthur Watts placed one hand upon his chest as he bowed. “At your service.”

“What in the name of all dust are you doing here?” Cinch demanded.

“I’m here for the pleasure of your company, my dear, of course.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m in no mood for games, Arthur. What are you really doing here?”

Watts's smile peeked out from beneath his moustache, like a knife partly drawn from its sheath. “I’m afraid I need some information, my dear Abacus, information that I’m hoping you might be able to give me.”

“Is that so?” Cinch asked. “And what makes you think that I won’t simply kill you, or break your aura and drag you to the nearest cell?”

“Yes, that is what a good servant of Atlas would do, isn’t it?” Watts observed, his voice casual and unafraid.

“I am a good servant of Atlas,” Cinch declared.

Watts chuckled. “Oh, come now, my dear Abacus. We both know that your loyalty to Atlas has always come second to your loyalty to yourself. How much did it hurt to watch James get promoted over your head?”

“As much as it hurt you to watch Polendina’s project get the green light instead of yours, I imagine,” Cinch replied acerbically. “The difference is that, unlike you, I didn’t desert my post and run away into the wilds.”

“No, you’ve simply been brooding on it, haven’t you?” Watts replied.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

“To help you,” Watts said. “And, perhaps, even to help you help Atlas, as a good servant to this great kingdom.”

“I thought you said you wanted information.”

“Yes, but I’m not expecting you to give it away for nothing,” Watts replied. “What kind of a gentleman do you take me for?”

Cinch stared at him for a moment. “A gentleman would have offered to walk me home instead of following me like a common brigand.”

“Indeed, a tragic lapse from one who has spent too long in the shadows. Let me correct it now: shall we?”

Cinch watched him advance towards her, only to draw alongside her and began to walk with her as she too resumed her journey.

“This business with the grimm in Mantle,” Cinch observed. “Your work, I presume?”

“I don’t control the grimm, if that’s what you think I’ve been doing since my departure. But I did disable the defences, yes,” Watts said. “And I left my handiwork reasonably obvious at the scene of the crime, as it were. James isn’t completely stupid, but he is predictable. I’m sure he has his agents scouring Mantle for me even as we speak.”

“And while his eye is turned on Mantle, here you are in Atlas,” Cinch concluded. “You have grown no less devious in exile, Arthur.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Watts said. They walked a little further, the edges of their umbrellas touching slightly as they walked. “Do I hear correctly,” he said. “Atlas is getting into bed with the faunus on Menagerie?”

Cinch snorted. “You do hear right, unfortunately. A pet project of James and Councillor Cadenza. Another young pup elevated too high, too young.”

“Yes, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” Watts murmured. “That we, with all our gifts, must learn to accept second place while the second rate rise high on the basis of their connections, their popularity, their so-called charm.”

“And watch powerless as they steer the ship of state onto the rocks,” Cinch finished.

“Perhaps not,” Watts said. “Perhaps this is the moment when the second-rate overreach, and the hour when men and women of real ability ride to the rescue of our stumbling kingdom.”

Cinch glanced at him. “What are you saying, Arthur?”

“I’m asking you if you want to spend the rest of your career commanding a combat school, teaching infants how to hold a weapon without hurting themselves,” Watts said. “I remember when you had grander ambitions than that.”

“Ambitions die of old age swifter than men.”

“I don’t think so, they simply grow dormant,” Watts replied. “This treaty with Menagerie is not universally popular with the people.”

Cinch snorted. “It isn’t universally popular in the administration. Neighsay likes it no better than I do, and I think Silver Sentry is on the fence about it to say the least, but did you come all the way to Atlas to suggest that I go into politics, Arthur? You know I don’t have what it takes to get elected to the council. I’m not what the uneducated masses look for in a leader.”

“What the masses look for is a figurehead, they’re blind to who really carries out the hard work of ruling,” Watts replied. “I take it that you still keep in touch with the best of your students from Crystal Prep.”

“There are those who remain grateful to me for my mentoring them in the first stage of their careers, but I know you’re not such a fool as to suggest a coup.”

“I suggest you might be wise to have your own trusted followers to guard against a coup, because you can be certain that James has men under him who are loyal to him first, and Atlas second.” He fell silent for a moment as the two of them walked down the street. “I’ve always thought Jacques Schnee would make an excellent councillor.”

“Jacques Schnee?” Cinch repeated in disbelief. She stared at Watts as though he had lost his mind. Then she thought about it a little more. Yes, Jacques Schnee was a vain peacock of a man, but upon reflection, such a man might just be the leader their cause required. “Jacques Schnee,” she repeated, and with more approval in her voice. “Once again, Arthur, you excel yourself.”

“A pleasure to be of service.”

“I don’t suppose you’d consider staying,” Cinch said. “In a new Atlas, there might be an opportunity for your past crimes to be forgiven and forgotten.”

Watts chuckled. “As much as I do feel homesick sometimes, I’m afraid I can’t delay. I have places to go, people to see, you know how it is.”

“Very well,” Cinch said. “Now what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a certain prisoner; I need to know where she’s being held and what kind of security is keeping her there.”

“And then help getting them out, I suppose?”

“No,” Watts said. “I think I shall be able to manage that just fine on my own.”

“Your reliance on those rings of yours will be the death of you, or else it will be your incorrigible taste for the dramatic,” Cinch observed.

“They are flaws baked in me, true,” Watts said airily. “But that’s why I also carry a gun. All I need, Abacus, is to know where they’re holding now and how securely. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“That would be ideal,” Cinch said. “What’s her name, this prisoner you want so badly?”

“Chrysalis.”

Author's Note

General Ironwood's daughter is a character from...an obscure PS game, I think, but more importantly she's from Cody and Cyclone's Spark to Spark, which you should all be reading.

Chrysalis

Chrysalis

Blake folded her arms as she looked over Twilight's shoulder. "I'm sorry to drag you out of the lab like this," she said softly.

"Sorry?" Twilight laughed, twisting around in her seat to look at Blake. "Are you kidding? It feels great to be back out in the field again."

Blake frowned ever so slightly. "You're in an office," she reminded Twilight. A black-walled, black-floored and windowless office deep in the interior of the Mantle Command Headquarters building, in point of fact.

Twilight shrugged. "Closer to the field than I was," she said, in a quieter tone but with hardly less enthusiasm. "And who knows? I brought my armour with me, just in case." She added, nudging the grey box at her feet. "I've been making upgrades," she said, with a bright smile upon her face.

The corner of Blake's lip twitched upwards. "We'll see what happens," she said.

She hoped that General Ironwood would approve of the way that she had chosen to go about this assignment that he'd given her. He hadn't told her that she was allowed to drag Twilight out of the lab to do all the technical things that Blake couldn't - not that Blake was completely unskilled when it came to computers and the like, but there was a difference between being able to hack through a doorway in an SDC facility and being able to sift through all the security cameras in Mantle for any sign of Doctor Watts - any more than he had said that she could call up Rainbow Dash and Applejack and ask them to back her up on this; and, while neither Rainbow nor Applejack was doing anything else at the moment, the same could not be said of Twilight. Of course, the General hadn't actually said that she couldn't do any of these things either, and he had given her broad power and authority to request any necessary assistance that she required in the completion of her mission, but using that to second Twilight to Mantle HQ was perhaps not what he had had in mind.

It was, ironically, in part the powers that he had given her that had motivated Blake to do this; the fact that she had a note in her proverbial pocket - it was on her scroll if you wanted to be technical - giving her, a Specialist Junior-Grade, the right to requisition equipment, request assistance, perhaps even compel it depending on how you read into things, was frighteningly awe-inspiring to her. As a sign of the trust that General Ironwood reposed in her, it could scarcely have been clearer, nor could it have been clearer as a sign of the importance he attached to finding Watts. She didn't want to let him down. She would never have wanted to let him down, but especially not now when her first task for him came burdened with weighty import and expectations just as heavy. She'd always known that General Ironwood was putting his faith in her, but now that she felt just how much faith...she couldn't let him down.

And in any case, it was not mere laziness on her part that had prompted her to take this course of action to complete her mission. Perhaps General Ironwood really had meant for her to wear out her boots searching every street in Mantle by herself with her own eyes, but she kind of doubted it; it would be a very inefficient way of finding someone, especially since she hardly knew Mantle at all; she had hoped - and she had been right - that Twilight would be able to offer a more efficient way of getting things done. Similarly, while General Ironwood had assigned this mission to her and, it could be argued, her alone, Blake had chosen to approach her friends for backup on the grounds that she had little idea of how dangerous Watts might be; he might have no martial skills whatsoever, or he might be nearly as dangerous as Cinder Fall; if Blake confronted him alone and...failed to stop him, then he would be free to run riot in Mantle until General Ironwood sent someone else, but with backup, there were more chances to stop him and complete the General's instructions.

And, having decided that she wasn't going to go it alone, Blake's options for who she could approach for help were somewhat limited. There were only a few people in whom she could confide the whole context of her assignment, had the necessary skills and were available to help her out. Every decision that she had made so far had been a sensible one. Blake nodded to herself at that as she tried to push her concerns out of her mind; it was ridiculous to think that General Ironwood would trust her with an important mission and then not trust her to complete that mission in the best way possible.

That was how the four of them had come to be in this room, which Blake had requisitioned in the Mantle Command headquarters building, while Blake, Rainbow and Applejack waited for Twilight to do her thing.

The room was reasonably sized but bare, the black and windowless walls - Blake wondered if she'd been given an interrogation room - enclosing only a single table at which Twilight sat and worked. Twilight had set up a projector on the table and connected her scroll to it, so that she was projecting a baffling collage of hundreds, maybe thousands of images into the air before their eyes, every image constantly moving, changing, shifting position; even the picture of Doctor Watts himself which loomed - and leered - larger than any other image in the very centre of Twilight's projection was moving, switching from a front view, to profile, to the back of his head and then back again every couple of seconds.

Rainbow Dash paced up and down; when Blake gave her a slight glance, she stopped, but only to say, "So...what are you doing, Twi?"

"I'm running recognition software," Twilight explained. "Searching for Doctor Watts on all the security cameras in Mantle. If he shows up on any of these cameras, then I'll know about it, and so will you."

"You can do that?" Rainbow asked. "From your scroll?"

"Not ordinarily," Twilight said. "Only because the scroll is wirelessly linked to the servers here in the HQ."

"You know," Applejack observed from where she leaned against the wall. "When you put it like that, Twilight, it sounds kinda creepy."

"Only if you don't trust the authorities to use their powers with discretion and a due regard for the common good," Twilight replied plaintively.

"I trust some of the authorities," Applejack allowed. "I ain't sure that I trust everybody who might want to be the authorities."

"Who watches the watchers?" Blake murmured, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

Twilight heard her regardless and chuckled. "At the moment? You guys."

Blake snorted in amusement. She blinked, her ears pricking up a little as she had a thought. "Twilight, are those historic feeds?"

"No," Twilight said. "This is the real time information. If you want me to spool through the historic surveillance, I can run a program to do that, but it will take some time before it starts producing any output."

"Please, start it," Blake said. "If we can't find where Watts is now, then perhaps by identifying where he was, we can pick up his trail or work out what his objective is."

"Okay. Give me a second," Twilight said, and the images projected before their eyes were temporarily joined - and overridden - by a programming screen as Twilight typed in the necessary commands to start the historic search in parallel to the realtime one.

"So, no sign of him yet?" Rainbow said.

"No," Twilight admitted. "Not yet." She fell silent for a moment. "Does this seem odd to anyone else?"

"How do you mean?" Blake asked.

"I mean...Doctor Watts's hacking signature, for want of a better word, was found on the disabled defences that helped the grimm to infiltrate the Mantle sewers," Twilight said. "But if you wanted to sneak into Mantle, would you really use a method the grimm were almost certain to follow, thus revealing your activities? And to be so obvious about it too; I've read the report on the examination of the defences, and he didn't even try to cover his tracks."

"Our enemies are really bad at leaving their fingerprints all over the place," Rainbow said. "Remember the attack on the Vale CCT?"

Twilight shuddered. "I'm not likely to forget it."

Rainbow winced, but continued anyway. "The point is that the one thing you couldn't call it was subtle. These are the people who thought it was a smart play to launch a full frontal assault to plant a virus as though we'd never heard of a...that thing you did."

"A system scan?"

"Yeah, that," Rainbow said, nodding her head vigorously. "The point is these guys are as subtle as a beowolf trying to eat your face."

"Cinder was pretty short-sighted and full of herself," Twilight allowed. "But do we think so little of our enemies that they aren't capable of learning from their mistakes?"

"No," Blake said, bringing all eyes onto her. "We don't. They may have drawn attention to themselves by attacking the CCT, but they also..."

Applejack peeled herself off the wall. "You okay, sugarcube?"

Blake frowned in thought. "What's in Mantle?" she asked. "I mean, if you were an agent of Salem and you wanted to strike a blow against Atlas, why come to Mantle and not Atlas itself?"

"The security's tighter in Atlas," Rainbow said.

"It ain't no joke down here; look at all these cameras," Applejack replied, gesturing at Twilight's projection.

"There's a lot of damage that you could do here," Twilight pointed out. "If you sabotaged the heating grid, you could potentially kill the entire city or force its evacuation to other locations." Her eyes widened behind her glasses. "You don't think he's trying to sabotage the heating grid, do you?"

Blake didn't answer directly. She said, "What else?"

"He could try and shut this building down," Rainbow suggested.

Blake shook her head. "That's local. Is there anything here that affects the entire kingdom? The early warning system, communications, anything like that?"

Twilight shook her head. "All central systems like that are controlled from Atlas."

"Then why come here?" Blake repeated.

"What are you thinkin', Blake?" asked Applejack.

"I'm thinking that for all the times our enemies have been incredibly unsubtle," Blake said. "They've also proven themselves adept in using the feint."

"You mean this doctor fella ain't here, he just wants us to think he is? And chase our tails lookin' for him?" Applejack spat.

"I can't prove it," Blake admitted. "But...Twilight, while keeping up the facial recognition scans, can you...can you search for anything odd?"

"Odd?" Twilight repeated.

"I'm sorry that I can't be more specific," Blake said. "But I think that our enemy wants us to be looking at Mantle, which means that there is something else going on that we should be looking at instead...I just don't know what it is."

Twilight bit her lip. "I can actually think of one odd thing without searching. I got a notification this morning...let me back up a second...I...may have hacked the prison server in order to keep tabs on Chrysalis - don't look at me like that, Applejack; she tried to kidnap and replace my sister-in-law, she tried to brainwash my brother, I have a right to know what she's up to."

"She ain't up to nothing behind bars," Applejack said.

"That's just the thing," Twilight said. "I set my spyware up to notify me of any changes, and this is the first time I've been notified of anything: she's being taken from prison and transferred to Crystal City upon the orders of General Ironwood himself."

Rainbow frowned. "Why would General Ironwood send Chrysalis to Crystal City?"

"I don't know," Twilight said. "I...didn't have the courage to ask him because of how I shouldn't have this information, but...what if he didn't? What if Doctor Watts hacked the prison records too and ordered Chrysalis transferred so that he could rescue her. Salem has worked with the White Fang in the past."

"Can you check for a hack?"

"I can try," Twilight said.

"Do it; I'll contact General Ironwood," Blake said. She walked around the table, past Applejack, and close to the door out of the room. She pulled out her scroll and found General Ironwood amongst her contacts.

He answered promptly, his face appearing on her screen. "Belladonna," he said. "Any progress?"

"Possibly, sir," Blake said. "General, did you order the White Fang leader Chrysalis transferred from her holding facility to Crystal City?"

"Chrysalis?" General Ironwood repeated. "No. Why, and what does this have to do with Watts?"

"I think that Watts wanted us to be looking at Mantle to distract us from his objective," Blake explained. "Just like they used the grimm attacks on Vale to distract us from their objectives of extracting Amber and retrieving the Relic of Choice. And if you didn't order Chrysalis' transfer, then why is she being transferred?"

General Ironwood scowled. "I'll see if I can raise her transport and order it to turn around. In the meantime, you try and intercept the airship and, if this is Watts's goal, stop him."

"Yes, sir," Blake said. She pushed her scroll shut. "Twilight, have you found anything?"

"Not yet," Twilight murmured.

"Can you keep looking while we're in the air?"

"I think so," Twilight replied.

"Then grab your armour and let's move out," Blake declared. "Everyone, come on."

Chrysalis had no idea why she was being transferred, but after being stuck in solitary confinement ever since she’d been captured by that annoying little bookworm and her infuriating friends, she was willing to take whatever opportunity she could get to stretch her legs, even if it was only being walked – in shackles – out of her cell and being manhandled into a waiting Skygrasper where, guess what, more sitting down awaited her.

But even that wasn’t so bad. After being kept in a near lightless box with no windows, it was good to see the sun again, it was good to be able to see out of the cockpit of the airship, even if all she could see was the blue sky. Just because she was a mantis faunus and could see in the dark didn’t mean that she didn’t appreciate a touch of sunlight every now and then, the feel of it upon her face. When the androids walked her out of the prison towards the landing pad, and the chill wind had kissed her face and blown through her lank green hair, it had been the happiest moment since her capture.

It had brought a tear to her eye, or that might have just been the cold making her green eyes water.

Chrysalis could not feel the wind now, encased within the airship as she was, with her hands and her legs manacled and four Atlesian knights watching her every move, but at least she could turn her head a little and look out the cockpit window. It wasn’t as if there was much else to look at in this dull, grey airship.

When she had first been locked away by the Atlesian oppressors, she had made her own entertainment, but after the first few months, imagining creative and painful ways to murder Twilight Sparkle and take revenge on all the rest of those responsible for her undoing had begun to pall as ways of exercising the mind. After a certain point, you had to admit that you’d thought of all the really fun things you could do to her, or even to her corpse, for that matter. After a certain point, it all became rather dull.

After a certain point, the dawning realisation that you were never going to have the opportunity to do any of those gruesomely exhilarating things made imagining them feel not only pointless but vaguely counterproductive.

Not to say that her feelings of vengeful wrath had disappeared; given the chance, she would have gladly been revenged upon the whole pack of them, merely that she couldn’t allow herself to dwell upon that thought too much lest it lead her into despair.

They gave her no news of the outside world in prison; so Chrysalis had been left – in lieu of contemplating revenge – to imagine what might be going on beyond the walls of her little cell. The Atlesians had bound her within a walnut shell, but Chrysalis counted herself a queen of infinite space as she envisaged the triumphs of the White Fang’s cause, their inexorable rise from strength to strength, victory to victory. It was in Adam that she placed her hope. Sienna Khan was weak; she wasn’t willing to do what had to be done to lead their people to victory, she was too fearful of the drastic action that might invite a response, not realising that they needed to risk the response in order to gain the rewards worth fighting for. Sienna had failed to support Chrysalis’ plan properly, and in so doing doomed Chrysalis to ignominious failure from her lack of support; no, it was in the future that the White Fang must place its hope, that Chrysalis placed her hope. In young Adam Taurus and Blake Belladonna, the rising stars of their movement; it was those two, Chrysalis believed, who would lead the White Fang to greatness and the faunus to liberation. And so, as she wasted away in her solitary, lightless cell, Chrysalis whiled away the time consoling herself with fantasies of their triumphs and the downfall of Atlas.

Indeed, when her cell door opened, Chrysalis had for a moment believed that it might be Adam and Blake come to rescue her at the head of a mighty force of White Fang warriors…but that was just a dream, after all.

But at least she could see the sun again, for a little while. She might be on her way to who knew where, for who knew what purpose, she might be about to suffer yet more cruelties and indignities at the hands of the Atlesians, but at least she could see the sun again…for a little while.

Chrysalis was a woman of about thirty years old, with dark skin and green hair that had become long and slightly scraggly during her confinement, falling in stringy strands down her back and across her face. She had been born with an unusual number of animal characteristics even for a faunus – her gossamer wings, currently restrained from moving, and the fang-like incisors that gave her an especially bestial look when she snarled – that gave her a sense of being especially faunus. A faunus amongst faunus. Almost like a queen.

Small wonder that she had risen to leadership of the Atlas chapter of the White Fang, when nature itself had singled her out for greatness from the cradle.

And if she had not succeeded in her ambitions, then at least she had attained infamy; they would not forget the Canterlot Wedding in Atlas for a long time.

As she sat in the back of the Skygrasper, Chrysalis’ eyes narrowed. Something appeared to be wrong in the cockpit; although her android guards continued to stare at her, their mechanical faces impassive, up front, the pilots appeared to be concerned about something.

“-can’t get anything from Crystal City, or Atlas, or anywhere. Comms are down.”

“Could it be another failure?”

“When the CCT went down, they had time to transmit blackout protocol. Could someone be jamming us?”

“Who would want to jam our comms?”

The blue lights in the faceplates of the AK-200s flickered and turned red as the front two robots took aim at the pilots of the airship.

“What?” one of the two pilots cried, as he noticed the rifle aimed straight at him. “No-”

A fusillade of shots rang out. The cockpit window was stained with blood, blocking the view of the sky. That was unfortunate.

What was less unfortunate was the way that Skygrasper did not immediately begin to crash. Instead, it continued on its cause, straight and level, without disturbance.

One of the androids turned to face Chrysalis. She stared at it, her face impassive.

“So, you’re Chrysalis, former leader of the White Fang in Atlas,” issued a voice from out of the android; a male voice, older than Chrysalis herself, rich and slightly fruity. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Chrysalis chuckled. “Of course it is. And you are?”

“I’m the person who’s controlling this airship and these androids. I’m the person who got you out of your cell. I’m the person who can decide your fate.”

“You are not the White Fang, then,” Chrysalis said, stating a fact, not asking a question. A White Fang rescue would never have couched itself in such terms.

“Indeed not.”

“Then I repeat my question: who are you?”

“My name is Doctor Arthur Watts, and I represent a very powerful interest who would like your assistance,” Doctor Watts said. “An interest who could be a very useful benefactor to the White Fang, if you wish her to be.”

“That is hardly in my gift to accept or deny,” Chrysalis replied.

“It could be,” Watts said. “Sad to say, but the White Fang is in something of a parlous state these days. Did they tell you that young Adam Taurus is dead?”

Chrysalis eyes widened. Adam, dead? Adam Taurus, the rising hope of the stern, unbending faunus, slain? Adam, their lord of war, their crimson sword, was dead? Even before Chrysalis’s capture Adam’s reputation had seemed unassailable; she had supposed that time had only burnished it yet further. “Dead?” she repeated. “How?”

“Murdered by the traitor Blake Belladonna,” Watts said.

“Blake?” Chrysalis cried. “Murdered by Blake?” She hissed in the face of the Atlesian knight, baring her fangs at it. “You lie!” she shouted. “Blake Belladonna was as much a hero to our movement as Adam was, she would never-“

“Quit?” Watts asked. “Join the Atlesian military? I’m afraid that’s precisely what happened. You think you know someone.”

“Why should I believe the words of someone I cannot even see, someone who hides behind a hacked android?”

“You don’t have to; I can prove it when we meet in person,” Watts said.

“Indeed? And when will that be?”

“Once I’ve confirmed that you are who I’m looking for,” Watts replied.

Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “And how will you determine that from so far away?”

There was a moment of silence. “What do you want, Chrysalis?”

“I want to see my people made strong and raised to rule over those who are less than they are.” The faunus were advantaged over the humans in so many ways, so why should they bow and scrape and beg for scraps from the table of those weaklings?

“No, that’s what a certain faction of the White Fang wants,” Watts said. “What does Chrysalis, and Chrysalis alone, want? What is your heart's desire?”

A slow smile spread across Chrysalis face. “You ask me what I want? I want all of those who locked me away to suffer and die at my hands. I want Councillor Cadenza and Shining Armour to scream in pain as I watch them die slowly for what they did to me. I want Twilight Sparkle to beg for mercy at my feet…but then I want to kill her precious friends one by one before her eyes until her pleas have changed from mercy to the sweet release of death and then, only then, will I deign to snuff out her life and end her misery. I want to be revenged upon the whole pack of them! That, Doctor Watts, is my heart’s desire.” She snorted. “So, what do you think? Do I pass your little test?”

Doctor Watts said nothing, but the Skygrasper began to descend towards the ground.

A moment later, the cuffs fell off her wrists and ankles to clatter to the floor of the descending Skygrasper.

Chrysalis rose to her feet, a little stiff from her long confinement, but with her aura once more unrestrained, she found the feeling coming back to her joints very quickly. She eyed the red-faced androids contemptuously as she made her way to the airship's cockpit, where the dead bodies of the two pilots sat slumped in their seats. She could destroy all four robots, she was certain...but she preferred to let this play out and see where the road led. Who knew, she might just take this Doctor Watts up on his offer after all.

And so she waited, watching out of the blood-stained windshield as the airship descended out of the clouds and set down upon the snow-covered ground, next to another airship of a unique design unknown to Chrysalis' eyes until this moment: sleek and black, made up of a series of sharp, angular sections quite unlike the usual boxy airship used in Atlas or Mistral, still less the bulbous Bullheads employed in Vale. It was as slender as a cigar, with no visible passenger capacity in the fuselage; rather, the cockpit consisted of two seats, one behind the other.

The back door of Chrysalis' Skygrasper opened with a hiss. The androids marched out into the snow, limbs clanking as they went, and after a moment, Chrysalis followed them out, blinking a little as the full force of the sun struck her dark-accustomed eyes.

A man was waiting for her, as slender as the aircraft that he stood beside, tall and sallow and dressed in a waistcoat and jacket which, combined with his collar unbuttoned and his tie worn loosely around his neck, gave the impression that he had just come home from a dinner party and was beginning to get undressed.

"Doctor Watts, I presume," Chrysalis said as she stepped down out of the airship and into the snow.

"I hope that my humanity doesn't offend you unduly," Watts replied. "Unlike the White Fang, my employer doesn't discriminate."

"Indeed?" Chrysalis murmured. "Then why is she interested in assisting the White Fang?"

"Her motives are her own," Watts replied blandly.

Chrysalis' eyes narrowed. "You serve someone without knowing what they want? And you expect me to do the same?"

"Why should it matter what she wants?" Watts answered. "All that really matters is what you want...and what you're willing to do to get it." He took a scroll out of his pocket. "We spoke of the White Fang earlier."

"You spoke much that I did not believe."

"Perhaps you will believe your own eyes," Watts replied, handing her the scroll.

Chrysalis snatched the device out of his hand, and began to read what he had placed there. It was human news, and thus propaganda, but at the same time...as Chrysalis read, eyes widening, a catalogue of betrayals and disasters so comprehensive she found that she could not tell herself that they were all fabrications: the White Fang in Vale defeated and Adam Taurus killed as he attempted to strike a blow against humanity; Blake, heiress to the Belladonna legacy and link between the past and future of the White Fang, had joined the Atlesian forces and was being feted by them; Atlesian troops on Menagerie! Chrysalis hissed with disgust. "I knew the High Leader was weak but this? To stand by and allow the occupation of our home? And Blake...this is no deception, is it? This is no deep cover to infiltrate Atlas and bring down our enemies from within?"

"Unfortunately not," Watts said. "You must understand, we tried to aid Adam Taurus in his assault on Vale, but young Miss Belladonna proved to be a considerable thorn in our side there."

Chrysalis growled. "Alas for the White Fang, that all your daughters have proved faithless." Why is it that conviction seems only to be found amongst our enemies?

"The White Fang needs leadership," Watts said. "Leadership that you can provide. It also needs a powerful backer."

"And that you can provide?"

"Indeed. Of course, quid pro quo, you'd be expected to take certain duties on board," Watts added. "But I guarantee that your revenge will be waiting for you at the end of the road."

"You guarantee it?" Chrysalis asked silkily. "That is a bold promise."

"My mistress never loses sight of what drives her faithful servants," Watts declared. "And those who serve her well, she well rewards. If you want to have your vengeance, if you want to see the faunus raised up high, then you will have no better chance than to come with me."

"And will I meet your mistress if I do?"

"Of course," Watts said. "I guarantee it will be an experience you'll never forget."

Chrysalis smiled. "Is this your airship, doctor? It is certainly a novel design."

"Yes, she is a charming thing, isn't she?" Watts replied. "A prototype of my own design. No carrying capacity or weapons, but faster than any airship in the skies and completely undetectable to scanners. I intended it to be a reconnaissance aircraft, but sadly, Atlesian military culture is far too self-righteously heavy footed to appreciate it: we're the good guys, we don't sneak around."

Chyrsalis' smile widened. "So tell me, Doctor Watts, who is that you covet revenge on?"

Doctor Watts looked at her, and his own smile peaked out from under his moustache. "Oh, no one in particular; his name is General Ironwood, you may have heard of him."

Chrysalis chuckled. "You may be a human, Doctor, but I think that you and I are going to get along rather well."

Blake struggled to prevent her shoulders from slumping under the weight of the shame she felt as she stood before General Ironwood - in his office, this time, not at his home; her sense of failure sought to distort her at-ease posture, robbing it of its necessary straightness. She could keep her back straight, just about, but she couldn’t prevent her ears from drooping down into her wild black hair. "We found the airship," she reported, her sense of incompetence making her voice soft and tremulous. "Along with four disabled knights and the dead bodies of the pilots. Twilight examined the airship-"

"And confirmed that it had been hacked, sir," Twilight said.

"But the tracks stopped after a few feet, there were some signs of another aircraft having been present; an aerial search yielded no further results," Blake admitted.

General Ironwood, sat behind his desk, nodded. "All early warning stations and coastal patrols were put on alert, and squadrons were dispatched from Atlas and Crystal City. None of them found anything; none detected an airship leaving our airspace." The General sighed. "Watts once designed an airship with stealth capabilities. Only two seats, he proposed it could be used to insert spies. I didn't see that the military had much use for it at the time - we were at peace with the other kingdoms, and spies and stealth aren't of much use against the grimm - but it would have been very useful to Watts in escaping undetected with Chrysalis."

Blake scowled. "I'm sorry, sir."

General Ironwood looked at her. "For what, Specialist?"

Blake blinked. "For this failure, sir. You ordered me to find Watts, and I failed you."

"We all failed, sir," Twilight said. "None of us-"

"This was my mission, I take full responsibility for the lack of success," Blake said quickly before Twilight - or either of the other two - could talk themselves into trouble.

"I ordered you to find Watts in Mantle," Ironwood said. "It was you who realised that he was never there at all."

"Not fast enough," Blake murmured.

"My error," General Ironwood said. "Not yours. I fell right into Watts' trap, just like he knew I would." The General got up, and turned his back upon the three huntresses and Twilight as he walked to the vast windows looking out over the breadth of Atlas, the glassy spires looming into the sky and the ever-vigilant cruisers hovering above them like guardian spirits. General Ironwood clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm a soldier," he said. "And an Atlesian soldier at that. I'm trained to see my enemy and take him out, to go to where my enemy is and confront him there, to put my body between humanity and harm. That's what I am...and that's what I've trained you to be. Shadows, deception..." he bowed his head. "Now more than ever, I feel the need of Oz's wisdom."

Blake looked down at her feet. It seemed wrong, vaguely indecent, to stare at General Ironwood when he looked so...so vulnerable like this, like eavesdropping on grief-stricken relatives in a hospital; it seemed wrong that the General, the man who seemed so solid it was as though he had been forged rather than born, the embodiment of the strength and resolve of the Atlesian forces, should be conceding to a flaw like this. Blake would rather that he had blamed her for her ineptitude than taken the blame upon himself if this was the result.

Rainbow looked as though she was nerving up her courage. She took a deep breath before she spoke, "Sir, we kicked Chrysalis' ass once before, and we'll do it again, even if she does have Salem behind her."

General Ironwood did not reply, but he did raise his head before he turned around to face the four of them once more. "Since we don't know where Chrysalis or Watts are now, I've decided to increase security around the council. From now on, Clover Ebi and his team will coordinate security for the council with Shining Armour and Winter Schnee."

"Thank you, sir," Twilight said.

"And I'm assigning you a bodyguard as well," General Ironwood continued.

"I'm not sure that's necessary, sir," Twilight replied.

"I think it might be," Applejack said. "You remember what she said as they were dragging her away, right? All those promises of revenge she was hollerin' on about?"

"I'm not a councillor," Twilight said. "I'm not even-"

"You're the one she blames, Twi," Rainbow said. "That's enough."

"Not to mention, Chrysalis isn't the only enemy who can hold a grudge, I'm not taking any chances," General Ironwood said. "From now on Rufus Madison and Sugarcoat will alternate in shadowing you, Madison's waiting outside."

Applejack began, "Sir, I'd be glad to-"

"I'm sure that both-" General Ironwood began, before his eyes flickered to Blake. "I'm sure that any of the three of you would willingly take on this assignment, and I know that some of you would ever prefer it that way, but operatives who know the truth about what's going on are rare, and if this action of Watts proves anything, it's that Salem isn't resting on the laurels of her victory at Vale. I need you all ready for when the other shoe drops."

"Are you sure you still want to rely on us when that happens, sir?" Blake asked.

General Ironwood looked into her eyes. "You aren't damned by failure, Belladonna," he said. "Any more than you would have been sanctified by success beyond all future reproach." He didn't look at Rainbow, but that didn't stop Dash from looking profoundly uncomfortable. "You went beyond the task I assigned to you and saw what I had missed. Do I still want to rely upon you? Absolutely. That's all, dismissed."

Rarity ran up a line of diamonds.

Weiss watched as the other girl ran around the cavernous hall, the diamond-shaped barriers conjured by Rarity’s semblance glowing in the darkness as the pale form of the reluctant would-be huntress climbed higher and higher, climbing very close to the vaulted ceiling of the gloomy, sepulchral chamber before she began her descent, skipping from diamond to diamond downwards towards the floor – and Weiss.

It was not exactly fencing training – although they had done some of that and would be getting back to that before the session was over – but it would help Rarity just as much, if not more, than the finer points of swordplay. It wasn’t too surprising that Rarity thought of her semblance only as a shield or a barrier – that was how she’d first discovered it, from what she’d told Weiss – but being Schnee and an inheritor of the hereditary Schnee semblance gave one a broad perspective on the versatility of semblances. Just because most semblances were not as, quite frankly, broken as that of the Schnee family, just because most people didn’t have effectively a dozen different semblances grouped together under the umbrella of the Schnee semblance, didn’t mean that they couldn’t find a greater variety of uses for them than, to be quite honest, most people did. So it was with Rarity: yes, use her diamonds as shields, take cover and shelter behind them, but had she ever tried creating more than one at once? It turned out she had, but only very small ones and purely for cosmetic purposes; still, it was a good start and led naturally on to making more full-sized, useful diamonds. Had she tried using dust to modify? No, she hadn’t, and it turned out that it didn’t work like that – these weren’t her glyphs, after all.

But if they weren’t as versatile as the things that Weiss could conjure up, that didn’t mean that Rarity wasn’t getting better at using them in a more creative manner, at conjuring them more quickly, making more of them, altering the angles at which she conjured them.

If or when she went to Atlas, all of this would stand her in as good or better stead than a little extra fencing practice with Weiss. Plus, she had to admit, it made her feel a lot more useful. A lot of people could have helped Rarity with her swordplay, but only a Schnee could have helped her understand her semblance in this way.

Rarity hopped delicately off her final diamond to land on her toes in front of Weiss. Her heels clicked upon the floor. She took a deep breath, her bosom heaving just a little; she was getting better, but it was still clear that using her semblance in this way was not second nature to her.

Nevertheless, she was getting better, and Weiss didn’t intend to be the kind of teacher who focussed on the negative as though the positive didn’t exist. “Your use of your diamonds is improving.”

Rarity took another deep breath. “Soon I’ll be at the Academy level?”

“To be perfectly honest, you could probably hold your own at this point against the average academy student,” Weiss said, leaving it slightly ambiguous as to how good the average academy student was. She was thinking more of people like Russell, or even Cardin. Not every student at the huntsman academies was a Pyrrha Nikos or a Weiss Schnee or even a Rainbow Dash in skill, courage, or commitment. Rarity’s swordplay and archery had gotten a little rusty in the two years since she’d been out of Combat School, but not that rusty. She didn’t need Weiss’ help to reach Academy beginner level. Although that didn’t mean that Weiss intended to stop seeing her, and not because it got her out of the house either; you could never improve too much, and you couldn’t always afford to sit around at Academy beginner level as though the world was automatically going to give you four years to improve. Duty might call much sooner than that.

“If you don’t mind me saying, darling, that sounds an awful lot like damning with faint praise,” Rarity murmured.

Weiss winced. “Am I that transparent?”

Rarity did not reply immediately. Rather, she walked across the immense hall to where a couple of water bottles were sitting on the floor. She picked one up and drank from it. “I take it that the average student is not up to your standards?”

“My standards aren’t the issue,” Weiss replied. “The standards of the grimm are.”

Rarity nodded, suddenly looking a little grim herself. “Of course. What’s it like, to fight them?”

Weiss frowned ever so slightly. “You must have seen a grimm at combat school?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve seen grimm,” Rarity murmured. “I nearly got swallowed whole by a lagarto once. But there was always Principal Celestia or Vice Principal Luna or one of the other teachers nearby. What’s it like to face them without backup? With only your own strength to rely on?”

“I’ve never done that,” Weiss said. “I always had my team with me. Or, Flash, at least. I was never alone.”

Rarity nodded. “But what I meant was-“

“I know,” Weiss said softly. “And it…I won’t lie, it’s not like Combat School. When you hear the beowolves coming for you…anyone who says they weren’t scared the first time wasn’t really there. But it does get easier. The more you see of them, the more you realise the average grimm has a very limited box of tricks, and once you figure those tricks out, you know how to beat them. Then there’s the problem that you’re always meeting new grimm and having to figure out their tricks while you try not to die…I’m not selling this very well, am I?”

Rarity chuckled. “Believe me, dear, the danger of this life has been made very clear to me more than once.”

Weiss smiled. “Twilight?”

“And Applejack,” Rarity said. “And Rainbow Dash for that matter, now that she’s snapped out of her funk. Applejack dissuaded me from going to Atlas in the first place, and she’s no happier to learn that I’m considering it again now.”

“But you’re still going to do it,” Weiss guessed.

“Yes,” Rarity replied. “Even though it’s dangerous, or…perhaps because it’s dangerous. Because the world is so dangerous that I can’t stand by, as little as a girl like me has to offer to Atlas or the world.”

“Don’t say that,” Weiss said. “Don’t even let yourself think it. Certainly don’t let anybody else tell you that. Don’t let them tell you that you’re not made for this, that you’re too small or too pretty or that a nice girl from a good family like you has no business learning how to fight monsters.”

“Are we still talking about me, darling?”

Weiss felt her face flush red with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I just…there’s no such thing as a born huntress…well, except maybe Pyrrha I suppose. But if you put her aside and look at the kind of students who fill the academies, look at your friends, look at the people I went to Beacon with: farm girls, waifs and strays swept up from the streets of Atlas and Mistral, country boys with empty heads, wide-eyed dreamers, gentlemen, and princesses. None of them were born to be heroes - none of them were even born to be warriors - but they became both because they chose to stand up. And if you choose the same, then you have as much right to stand with them as anyone else, and don’t let anybody tell you different…even if you think they have your best interests at heart.” She stopped and felt that her embarrassment, far from being diminished, might have actually gotten a little worse now that she stopped and thought about what she’d just said. She coughed awkwardly into one hand. “Sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to preach at you.”

“Actually, I thought you were rather inspiring,” Rarity said. “Have you considered going into politics?”

“No,” Weiss said quickly, as though the idea were an awful one. Then again, if I can’t be a huntress, it would at least give me a way to effect change in the world. Maybe I should give it some thought. “You’re giving me too much credit for dressing up a cliché.”

“There’s nothing wrong with dressing up, darling,” Rarity declared. “Sometimes dressing up well can be the most important thing in the world.”

Weiss chuckled. “I’m not completely unaware of that,” she said. She drew Myrtenaster from the blue sash tied around her waist. “Are you ready to resume?”

“Not quite yet, I beg you,” Rarity said, holding up one hand. “Give my aura just a little more time to recover from that abuse of my semblance.”

“Alright,” Weiss said. Using your semblance consumed aura, but exactly how much aura it consumed depended to a degree on how adept you were at using your semblance. Weiss could abuse hers to a degree that would have been reckless in many other huntresses not because she had an inhuman store of aura but because she was very well trained and greatly practiced in the use of her glyphs. Summons, on the other hand, still took their toll on her; she had yet to summon more than one at a time, while Winter could conjure up whole packs of phantom beowolves when the need arose.

“May I ask, what is this place?” Rarity asked, gesturing to the vast hall to which Weiss had brought the other girl to train. It resembled an ancient abandoned cathedral, with long glass windows embossed with a symbol that was not quite the Schnee snowflake but which greatly resembled it. It was a place of little light and many shadows, where Weiss and Rarity stood out as pale ghosts amidst the gloom, specks of white amongst darkness. “I’ve never been here before.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would have,” Weiss said. “But it has the space for us to train.”

“Ample space,” Rarity agreed. “But where is it?”

“This is a private facility owned by my family,” Weiss said. “It’s where I trained. It’s where…it’s where I met him.” She gestured with Myrtenaster, and a blue-white glyph formed upon the floor beside her out of which arose, head first, her immense knight, all clad in his bulky armour, wielding that sword that was taller than Weiss – and taller than Rarity too. He stood, looming over the two girls for a moment before he knelt, descending courteously to one knee and bowing his head before them.

Rarity’s eyes widened. “What is it?”

“This…this is a ghost,” Weiss said. “Or you might call it that. It’s one facet of the Schnee semblance: anything that we kill, we preserve an echo or a phantasm of it, and we can summon it to aid us in battle if we wish.”

Rarity nodded her head minutely. “Then…you killed this?”

“I believe the name of it was Arma Gigas,” Weiss said. “A grimm possessing a suit of armour.”

“And you killed it here? In this building?”

“Yes,” Weiss said softly. “That’s when I came by this scar.”

“But we’re in the middle of Atlas!” Rarity cried. “How did a grimm get all the way in here?”

“My father brought it here, to test me,” Weiss said. “To prove to him that I was ready to go to Beacon without disgracing myself, or him.” That was why she had brought Rarity here; it seemed appropriate that here, in this place redolent with memories, where she had proved herself ready to her father that she would, in turn, in this same place, help Rarity to become ready.

Rarity pursed her lips together. “That does not seem particularly…fatherly.”

“Perhaps not,” Weiss said softly. “But of all the things that my father has done, that is something that I don’t hold against him. Perhaps his motives were slightly self-interested, but I’m glad that I fought this battle, and not just because I eventually got this summon out of it. I did have to prove myself that night, in a way that I hadn’t before. When I came to Beacon, I knew that I belonged because of what I went through in this building.” She paused. “When I think you’re ready, I’ll have you fight the Arma Gigas too, my summons at least. Not because you have anything to prove to me, but because I think you should be able to prove it to yourself.”

“Very well,” Rarity murmured. “But I’m not there yet?”

“No,” Weiss conceded. “Not yet. But with time, and practice, you will be. Speaking of which,” she flourished Myrtenaster a little.

Rarity’s own epeé, a less sophisticated version of a dust blade but basically similar in its operation, was thrust into her belt. She drew it forth and held it before her, pointed towards Weiss. “Yes,” she said. “I’m ready now.”

Weiss stepped backwards, raising her rapier up high, the blade at eye level; Rarity held her epeé – which went by the simple name of Grace - in a low guard, her free hand tucked behind her back.

They stared at one another for a moment. Then Rarity came for her, her blade a silver sheen slicing through the darkness. Weiss stepped forward, Myrtenaster cutting through the gloom to clash with Grace in a clatter of metal upon metal. Their swords clashed, thrust, parry, riposte; Weiss retreated then came on again; Rarity fell back then countered. The delicate fencing blades sparked off one another again and again as first one combatant then the other pressed their advantage for a moment, then found said advantage reversed. They circled one another, dancing delicately across the great hall, two clashing points of light in a place otherwise consumed by darkness.

The corner of Weiss’s lip turned upwards in a slight smile. Something that sparring with Rarity had reminded her of was the extent to which her proper form had been allowed to decay over the course of a year at Beacon; classical fencing technique was not always the most effective technique when pitched against a horde of onrushing grimm, but Rarity had not yet found that out – or rather, she had not yet found that she could get the same or better results with a sloppier, quicker motion – and so, for all that she was a little out of practice, her footwork, her stance, her posture and positioning were in some respects better now than Weiss’s own.

But on the battlefield, you didn’t win by having the better form. Weiss started to change things up, altering her moves a little, descending from the level of the fencers’ handbook to that of the fighter on the streets of Vale, first introducing little variations to the moves, then allowing herself to slip more and more into the rhythms that she had fallen into at Beacon. Non-traditional moves demanded more than a rote response, and Rarity was discomfited, falling back before Weiss's onslaught as she tried to counter moves that couldn’t be parried by choosing one of the pre-learned stances, motions and blade positions. But she was fast enough that she was able to parry, even if only just about, and Weiss didn’t land a hit on her; she probably could have if she’d gone all out, but the point of this was to teach Rarity, not make her feel incompetent or satisfy Weiss's ego.

So she held back and let Rarity’s quick reflexes and keen eye preserve her, until the other girl started to get a feel for Weiss’s altered movements. Weiss could see the confidence returning in Rarity’s blue eyes as she returned to the attack, making up lost ground as it was her turn to drive Weiss back across the hall.

Sword clashed on sword, the rhythmic echo of the blades the only sound in the vast, cavernous space in which they duelled.

“Very good,” Weiss said. Now to take this to the next level.

Rarity, a slight smile playing across her face, lunged for her. Weiss sidestepped, grabbing Rarity’s outstretched arm with her free hand and pirouetting on her toe to throw the other girl with a startled squawk across the room.

Rarity kept hold of her Grace even as she struck the floor with a thump and rolled across it. She rose up on one knee, blade pointed at Weiss as a blast of fire dust shot from the sword. Weiss held Myrtenaster before her as she conjured a black glyph before her to block the blast harmlessly.

The chambers of her rapier circled until she had selected the proper type of dust for her purposes, conjuring a single blue-white glyph from which a laser beam burst forth to pound with effect upon the glowing diamond that Rarity created with her free hand held before her.

Rarity climbed upwards, leaping from diamond to diamond, her skirt bouncing slightly up and down; Weiss followed, jumping from white glyph to white glyph as they appeared in the air by her will. Rarity formed a road of diamonds in the air pointing towards Weiss. Weiss conjured a glyph above, angled downwards at Rarity, and leapt off it as a springboard to descend upon her opponent from above. Their blades clashed. They leapt apart, diamonds and glyphs appearing beneath their feet to steady them. They danced in the air, hurling themselves at one another as one footing disappeared and then another formed to bear them once the pass was done. Their swords rattled together with blasts of dust. More than once, they leapt past one another, slicing with their swords to carve off pieces of one another’s aura. They were the only lights in the darkness, they were shooting stars in the night sky, they were like two stones borne against one another by the current and then swept apart again as they gracefully clashed then split up, rising and falling, descending to the floor then climbing up again, until Rarity’s aura entered the red and Weiss called a halt.

“That,” Weiss declared, “was not bad at all.”

“But not good enough,” Rarity murmured.

“There’s no such thing as good enough,” Weiss replied, thrusting Myrtenaster into her sash. “There is only better than you were before.”

“I know what you mean, of course,” Rarity said. “But at the same time…in matters of life and death, there is such a thing as…well, there is certainly such a thing as not good enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so,” Weiss admitted, “but I would also say that you passed that mark some time ago.”

“Darling, you are almost as generous with your praise as you are with your time,” Rarity declared.

“I’m honest, as a good teacher should be,” Weiss replied. “And as for my time, instead of letting you thank me for it, you should be letting me thank you for giving me something to spend my time upon. These sessions, they give me a purpose.”

She and Rarity went for coffee after their sparring session, followed up by a little light window shopping in the Cloud District; Weiss got the impression that Rarity couldn’t afford most of the things available in these high-end stores, not that she asked directly - that would have been rather vulgar - but that she liked looking at them purely as a way to see what was ‘in’ and what was not. Weiss, who could have afforded much more of what the two of them saw on offer, was at the same time not so interested in it, except that it was hard not to let Rarity’s enthusiasm for the subject become a little infectious as the afternoon wore on.

She caught sight of Whitley briefly while she was out; he was accompanied by Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon and lastly, at a discrete distance, by a man whom Weiss did not recognise: elderly, dressed in a well-tailored suit, with wisps of white hair clinging to an otherwise bald head. Judging by all the boxes he was labouring under and the fact that he looked too old to be a lesser servant, Weiss took him to be the young lady’s own butler. The two girls were laughing at whatever Whitley had just said, and none of them spotted Weiss or Rarity before they disappeared into one of the high end department stores.

Whatever Weiss might think about Whitley, about the way that he viewed his relationships – and everyone else’s for that matter too – she was glad that he wasn’t alone in the world. If only because it made her feel a little less guilty about the fact that she’d gone away to Beacon and basically forgotten about him for a year. She could tell herself it hadn’t done him any harm.

Thinking about relationships, Beacon and the people she’d hurt made Weiss think of Flash Sentry. She found her thoughts turning towards her former partner with a frequency that verged on regularity. The last she’d heard of him, he was going into the hospital to have his leg removed. She could have found out which hospital, she could have gone to see him...and there was a part of her that wanted to do exactly that. A part of her that wanted to rush to his bedside, confirm that he was okay; a part of her that wanted to throw her arms around him and tearfully confess how sorry she was for what had happened, not just in the battle but before, for the way that she had...a part of her that wanted to tell him how she felt. But she did not. She had not. She could not. She could not bear to tell him how she felt only to be rejected by him, and she felt that rejection was the most likely thing to come from it; after all, he’d made no more effort to contact her than she had to contact him, so he probably didn’t want to have anything to do with her now.

Perhaps if I’d been more open to the idea when he first asked…

I wanted to focus on my studies, and besides...I didn’t know what a great guy he was back then.

“Weiss?” Rarity asked. “Weiss, darling, are you alright? You look suddenly so troubled.”

Weiss blinked, recalled to herself. “I...no, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I was just...thinking about someone, that’s all. Wondering if I could have handled things differently.”

Rarity smiled knowingly. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance.”

Weiss’ eyebrow rose a little. “Really? And what exactly do you think I’m talking about?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t presume to say,” Rarity said airily. “But I’m sure he’s a very lucky boy.”

Weiss felt her face redden. “That is absolutely...ugh!”

But alas, it eventually reached a point where Weiss couldn’t put off going home any longer, and it was time for her to return to the brooding emptiness of the Schnee Manor, where the spaces were nearly as vast as the cavernous hall in which she and Rarity had fought, and while they were not quite as dark, they were every bit as cold and empty.

When Weiss returned, there was a car outside the manor, this time a purple car with the letters CP picked out in gold lettering upon the door. Inside the house, there was no sign of Whitley - he clearly hadn’t returned from his own shopping in advance of Weiss - and there was no immediate sign of Klein in evidence either, or her mother. There was no sign of anybody as Weiss made her way through the house, her footfalls echoing down the empty corridors, passing by the vast empty rooms, feeling almost chilled by the cold blue décor that dominated the house. The whole place appeared absolutely deserted until she passed by the door of her father’s study, which at least had the sounds of voices issuing from it to indicate that someone was alive in here besides Weiss herself.

Nobody was shouting as her father had been shouting at General Ironwood when Weiss had interrupted them, but they were still speaking loudly enough that Weiss could hear them, and what she heard made her stop, and listen for more.

“You must understand, Mister Schnee,” the voice belonged to a woman, older, middle-aged at least. “There is a great constituency within this kingdom that is deeply concerned by the current direction of our leadership, a constituency that is crying out for a change of course before it is too late.”

Are you talking about the treaty with Menagerie? Weiss thought. Are you really that opposed to treating the faunus like equals? What is it about this that upsets you?

“The treaty with Menagerie is just the tip of the iceberg,” the woman continued. “The latest in a long line of misguided policies aimed at weakening our kingdom and strengthening our competitors.”

“I share your concerns, of course,” Jacques replied, “but I fail to understand why, if there is such a great constituency as you say, then it doesn’t do something to bring about this change of course before all the wealth of this kingdom and my company has flooded into the coffers of the faunus on Menagerie.”

“Because we lack the most important thing for the success of any great endeavour,” the woman said. “We lack a leader. Those whom I represent are loyal and dutiful servants of this kingdom, but though we have spent our lives in Atlas’ service, we are not the sorts who can inspire the masses to follow where we lead. For that, we need a more extraordinary kind of man than we can muster.”

“You mean you need me,” Jacques said, without a trace of modesty.

“You are the titan of our industry,” the woman declared. “And more to the point, you exemplify the spirit that has driven Atlas to its present heights, but which is now threatened by the policies of our present leaders. Let me ask you, Mister Schnee, did anybody help you on the way to your present success?”

“Of course not,” Jacques replied, as though the very suggestion that a man who had inherited his fortune and the leadership of his company through marriage might not have worked for every lien he had was somehow insulting. “I started work on the ground floor of this company and climbed the corporate ladder through hard work and effort. It wasn’t always easy, but I had determination and a solid work ethic.”

“Two things all too often lacking from the present generation of Atlesians, who seem to expect to have everything handed to them on a plate,” the woman said scornfully.

“Hmm,” Jacques murmured. “It’s ironic: we work hard so that our children may enjoy prosperity, only to watch as that prosperity leaves them incapable of maintaining the legacy that we bequeath to them. Nicholas Schnee understood that when he decided to leave his company to me, a self-made man capable of continuing what he had begun, instead of to his own daughter. I confess that when I look at my own children, I don’t believe that any of them are capable of leading the SDC to continued success.”

Weiss rolled her eyes.

“At my school,” the woman said, “I have done my best to inculcate a sense of hard work and accomplishment as exemplified by our motto, Semper Plus Ultra: always further beyond. But I fear it is the faunus of Menagerie, hardscrabble and barren land as it is, who will prove to truly embody that spirit of achievement and triumph over limitations while we in Atlas have grown soft in our prosperity and softened the other kingdoms through their reliance upon our military might. Why, look at this Warrior Princess that General Ironwood brought back with him from Vale: sprung from Menagerie, she is superior to any huntress in Atlas save for a handful of my most elite students. Mister Schnee, I fear we are paying to let a tiger in amongst the flock.”

Blake? Weiss thought. You’re using Blake as an example of…Blake is that good because that she’s good, not because there’s something special about Menagerie. She wasn’t even living there while she was training!

There was silence within the room, or at least Weiss could not hear anything. Then her father spoke.

“For my own part, I have often wished that there was at least someone on the council who understood business,” Jacques declared. “Who understood the extent to which the good of the Schnee Dust Company and the good of Atlas are intertwined. Even someone who simply understood that money doesn’t grow on trees and that I have worked hard for all the wealth and success that I enjoy. But to go into politics?”

“Atlas cries out for leadership,” the woman declared. “The hour has come, will the man be found?”

Jacques was silent for a moment. “You have given me a great deal to think about, Principal Cinch. I will give everything that you have said very careful consideration.”

“That is all that I ask, Mister Schnee,” the woman – Principal Cinch – replied. “The fate of Atlas rests in your hands. All of us who love our kingdom pin our hopes on you to make the right choice.”

Weiss decided that now would be a good time to leave, lest she be caught eavesdropping by her father. But as she walked quickly away down the corridor towards her own room, she was filled with a sense of great disquiet. Who was that woman, and what did she want from her father?

And why did Weiss have the feeling that the answers would mean nothing good for Atlas or Menagerie?

Chrysalis was not entirely sure where she was.

She was more certain that she didn't like it here.

This was an unnatural place, where the sun had failed and the world was cast into a permanent purple haze, a grim miasma that sapped the spirit; this castle to which Watts had brought her, this chamber in which she stood, though both were larger than her prison cell, they seemed to her almost as oppressive. This banqueting chamber - or whatever it's purpose; it had at least a table erected, and chairs of stone and crude wood set around it - had windows at least, but when she stood at the window as she was standing now, Chrysalis could see nought but a blasted land, devoid of life, where not even a bush grew. There was nothing here nor all around to be seen but barren rock picked clean of life.

Barren rock - and the grimm, who crawled with slow, uncertain, shambling gait out of the pools of darkness that lay scattered all about this castle and slouched about under the moon, joining the throng who had already mustered here like an army waiting on their queen's command. Some of them had been here for some time, judging by the size they had reached and the spikes and the armour plates that now protected them; others seemed as though they had spawned scarcely longer ago than those that Chrysalis was seeing enter the world before her very eyes. Was this the source of the grimm? Was this the place from which all nightmares originated?

"Quite a striking view, isn't it?" Watts asked from where he sat at the table, hands resting upon the rough, uneven wood.

Chrysalis turned away from the unholy sight. "Are they dangerous?"

"To us? No. In general...they are grimm."

Chrysalis walked lightly towards the table. "What does anyone who can command the creatures of the dark need with me or the White Fang?"

The doors at the end of the chamber swung open with a creak. "I hope you can appreciate that there are places a grimm simply cannot go," said the figure in a gown of black trimmed with scarlet who glided into the chamber; a five-pointed crown was set upon her head, the candle flames gleaming upon the metal. "There are powers that a grimm cannot wield. There are strategies a grimm cannot comprehend. For such things, I have a need for other servants."

Chrysalis stared. The creature who had just entered the room looked like she could have been the personification of death itself; she looked like a corpse, a woman who had drowned in a lake and lain in the water for too long undiscovered before she sprang into unnatural life once more as the veins that stood out so prominently upon her pale and lifeless flesh stirred to life. Her eyes seemed, from a distance, to be as black as coals set in that wan visage, it was only when she advanced on Chrysalis that the latter could see that there were red eyes burning in the darkness, eyes red as blood.

Watts rose to his feet. "Ma'am, allow me to present-"

"Chrysalis," the dead figure said. "Former leader of the White Fang in Altas." She smiled. "My name is Salem. Tell me, Chrysalis, why have you come?"

Chrysalis' throat felt suddenly very dry. "I was...I am here for power."

"And what would you do with power, if I gave it to you?" Salem asked, her voice calm and soft.

"I would take my revenge," Chrysalis snarled. "And I would take justice for my people."

Salem's lips twitched upwards. "Vengeance, justice. Yes. It is important not to lose sight of what drives us." She stopped, staring into Chrysalis's eyes; Chrysalis felt at once the desperate, burning desire to look away but at the same time an absolute inability to do so as Salem held her captivated by her gaze. "Yes," she said softly. "Well done, Arthur. This one will do nicely. Serve me well, Chrysalis, and my power shall be as yours...as shall all the vengeance you desire. But first, I ask you to prove yourself to me."

"How?" Chrysalis asked.

"Go to Mistral with Arthur," Salem said. "I have agents and allies there of dubious loyalty; you will remind them both that the friendship of Salem is not lightly thrown aside, nor is the bond between mistress and servant one that can be broken upon a whim." She paused, and Chrysalis understood that that was a message aimed at her as much as whomever resided in Mistral. "I also have enemies within the city, enemies whom I am loath to see continue to gather power against me. Eliminate them, and you shall have the first taste of the power you require to return to Atlas and throw down all those who wronged you."

That sounded promising. "And what manner of power will you grant to me?"

"In Mistral there is power you may take for yourself," Salem said. "You are not too old to become a Maiden yet, once Spring is found."

"Maiden? Spring?" Chrysalis repeated. "What are these things you speak of?"

Salem smiled. "Tell me, Chrysalis: what is your favourite fairy tale?"

Overwatch

Overwatch

One Month Earlier…

The Chapel of Our Lady of the North was not immune from the architectural styles of Atlas merely on account of its religious nature, or even the archaic nature of the faith it served. It was a building in Atlas, and it looked as though it belonged in Atlas; although it had a vaguely sepulchral shape, the fact that it was built of glass and steel marked it clearly as a modern and distinctively Atlesian interpretation of the design. In daylight, the walls could be seen through, with only the metal beams and support struts interrupting the continuous clear material that separated the interior from the outside world – although when a degree of separation from the world was called for, the glass could be darkened until it was opaque – while the pews that cascaded forwards in rows from the centre of the building were fashioned out of shining metal, bolted to the floor.

Ciel had no objections to this modernity. This was Atlas, after all; it would have been a bizarre sight to have seen an old-fashioned church of rough-hewn stone in the middle of the most advanced city in all of Remnant. And besides, the Lady of the North could be found wherever a true believer might be found; if it were not so, then it would be very hard indeed to find her anywhere within the Kingdom of Atlas these days.

It was night now, and through the high glass ceiling, she could have seen the moon and the stars illuminating the sky above if she had turned her eyes to heaven. She did not, but kept her eyes fixed upon the statue of the Lady herself that sat at the very forefront of the chapel. Alone in the whole building, this statue possessed a traditional look, although Ciel had no doubt that it was as modern as the building itself, but it had been fashioned out of alabaster stone, giving it a pale glow in the darkness that engulfed the largely unlit chapel, and in consequence, it seemed as though it could or might have graced somewhere much older than this place. The Lady was depicted hooded and swathed in a shawl, her face obscured from view. She held out one hand, palm facing towards the ground, as if she were offering a blessing or a benediction to a supplicant.

Candles burned low around the base of the statue, flickering occasionally, although there was no breeze here to make them so, unless they were so sensitive that the breath of those within the room could disturb the firelight thus. Only Ciel and old Father Browne were present here; Ciel’s parents were waiting outside, and when she was finished here, then they would go to dinner to celebrate Ciel’s graduation, the first of her family to ever pass through Atlas Academy, but that was for later. For now, it was not meet that they should be here for this. This was a sacred thing, between her and Atlas and the Lady of the North.

General Ironwood had accorded her a great honour by offering to swear her in as an Atlesian huntress personally, along with Rainbow Dash and Penny and Blake, a great honour that she had nevertheless had to decline. She had come here instead, her beret rolled up and clutched in one hand, to take her oath before the Lady of the North, as was permitted by the regulations on religious freedom. This was an extraordinary moment in her life, when she would give herself to Atlas and to mankind as their light in darkness, and it was fitting that she should do so in a sacred space.

Father Browne had been a soldier himself, once, before he had turned to faith; his round and kindly face was marked by slashing scars across it, and he moved a little stiffly at times, as though his joints creaked beneath his pristine robe of pale blue. Candlelight glinted off his small, round spectacles.

He smiled encouragingly at her. “Kneel before the Lady.”

Ciel knelt, her head beneath the statue’s outstretched hand which hovered above her. She looked up, and from this angle, she could better see the statue’s face: ageless, soft yet strong-seeming in equal measure, sightless eyes staring down at her and seeming to perceive her nevertheless.

“The greatest treasure of the north,” Father Browne said, “is its fighters of valour unsurpassed; do you swear before the Lady that you will be brave of heart in the face of all dangers?”

“I swear on my life that I will be brave,” Ciel said, “though a thousand fates of death surround me.” She spoke quickly and easily. She had never had any difficulty in being brave; she had never known herself to hesitate in the face of danger. She did not anticipate any difficulties in that regard arising now.

Especially not now, when so many comrades - amongst them sisters of the faith like Neon Katt - had gone before to show her the way.

Father Browne nodded. “The flowers of the north bloom in the harshest of winters, bearing the frost, the darkness, and the cold. Do you swear before the Lady that you will be strong and bear all the malice of the winters to come?”

“I swear upon my honour that I will be strong and hardy,” Ciel said, “and all the frosts will neither harm nor move me.” She spoke these words more slowly; it was as though her tongue had swollen somewhat and made it harder to form the words than it had been before, and as she spoke, she felt a weight settle upon her shoulders, pressing down upon her.

“The Lady of the North protected all these lands and all who dwelled within them, and her example teaches us to do likewise with what little power we possess,” Father Browne declared. “Do you swear to protect the innocent, whatever the cost to yourself?”

“I swear upon my faith that I will protect the innocent,” Ciel said. “I shall value each drop of innocent blood as more precious than a gallon of my own.” She took a deep breath, for she was breathless. The weight upon her shoulders grew heavier still.

“The Lady is not only our protector but our guide,” Father Browne said. “She inspires us, and she teaches us by her example. In a world in which darkness abounds, she is our light. Do you swear that you will live without sin and walk in the light, never straying into darkness?”

Ciel swallowed. She felt a lump in her throat. She felt almost as though she would not be able to get to her feet when the moment came, there was so much pressure on her. “I swear upon my soul,” Ciel whispered. “And that I shall live without sin and walk in the light; the darkness shall have no claim on me.”

A breeze seemed to blow through the chapel, causing the candles burning around the base of the statue to flicker so violently that Ciel feared they might be snuffed out.

“Your service is accepted,” Father Browne said softly. “Rise, Ciel Soleil, rise a huntress of the north.”

Present Day…

Beacon Academy might have been esteemed the most prestigious of the four academies before its ruin, and the new academy that would soon be founded on Menagerie would have a hard time living up the reputation of its illustrious predecessor, but nevertheless, it could not be doubted in Ciel’s mind that many of the facilities available at Atlas were vastly superior to what had been on offer at the other school. Take, for example, the facilities for combat training. Atlas did not make do with a raised stage in the midst of an auditorium such as might be found in a minor Mistralian town serving as the arena for their games; in Atlas, the sparring chambers dispensed with a large audience space – leaving only a small observation deck looking down upon the room from above – in favour of a wider space for the two combatants itself; neon blue lines formed a perfect grid along the walls, floor and ceiling, channelling the hard light dust that was used to generate the walls and towers that dotted the chamber.

Walls like the one across the top of which Ciel was running now, back bent, body hunched over her weapon.

She didn’t need her semblance to predict that Penny was about to fire at her with at least one of her lasers, and so Ciel chose to leap first before she was hurled with a great force – if she was going to fall anyway, then at least she wouldn’t get hit in the chest by a laser beam first – landing feet first on the other side of the wall of black cubes. She felt her aura drop from the force of the impact, but she ignored it – and the aching in the soles of her feet – for a moment as she began to run. She was out of Penny’s vision for a moment, but that didn’t mean that she could afford to stand still.

Penny started blasting the wall apart, green lasers shredding the hard light constructs and reducing them to quickly disappearing shards. Ciel reached another pillar of cubes, kneeling behind it and bringing Distant Thunder to her shoulder, bending her head to look down the scope at the swiftly disappearing wall. Penny was focussing her fire upon the blocks at the base of said wall, destroying them to topple the entire wall. That was a reasonable approach, although it had to be noted that in the case of a real wall, there would have been a pile of rubble left behind for her to navigate. Still, it was a reasonable approach and more sensible than charging around the wall into who knew what ambush.

Of course, until the wall was finally brought down, there was the issue that she couldn’t see what was around the other side. Like Ciel, setting up for the moment when the wall came down.

As it did at just that moment, exposing Penny to Ciel’s view.

Ciel pulled the trigger. Distant Thunder roared. She didn’t wait to see the impact of the shot before she worked the bolt handle, discharging the spent cartridge that thudded onto the ground beside her and chambering a new round. Ciel looked up to see that Penny had blocked the shot with one of her swords, which had been tossed away and buried in the wall of the combat chamber just beside the door.

Some things were easier when you had wired swords. The worldwide revelations about Penny’s robotic nature meant that some changes had been able to be made to her design: since they no longer had to pretend that Penny was human, they no longer had to worry about the extra space involved in making her swords wireless; she simply wore them in a bundle on her back for all to see. And it didn’t matter if one of them was knocked aside, because it wasn’t even attached to her in any way.

Penny grinned as the points of her remaining swords swung towards Ciel.

Ciel fired again, not aiming to hit so much as to distract Penny while she broke cover, darting for another-

A spectral white sword slammed point first into the ground in front of her, glowing with a phantasmal energy as Ciel swerved to avoid it.

Precognition on!

The blue of Ciel’s eyes burned brighter than before. If Penny was about to do what Ciel thought she was about to do, then her own semblance would be a necessary counter.

The future echoes of Penny’s spectral blades were faint, but Ciel could see them nevertheless, white swords falling from the sky, swords striking the ground, swords that she could avoid because her own semblance let her see them coming.

But Penny knows what my semblance is, so why is she attacking me in a way that I can predict and avoid?

The answer struck Ciel like a thunderbolt – a mental thunderbolt that helped Ciel to roll away from and avoid the turbo-charged laser beam that blasted through the combat area exactly where Ciel would have been standing if, as Penny had planned, she had been driven by the need to avoid Penny’s blades right into the killzone.

Ciel rolled upright, Distant Thunder rising to her shoulder, to see all of Penny’s physical swords pointed right at her.

Ciel fired with the loud roar of Distant Thunder.

Penny fired with the shrill whooping of her lasers.

Ciel just caught a glimpse of Penny being knocked off her feet before she was struck by the laser beams and hurled backwards, turning in the air, smashing through a hard-light pillar before hitting the floor. A klaxon sounded, and a quick glance at the board above her confirmed that it was Ciel’s aura that had just passed into the red.

Mind you, she had managed to take Penny’s aura into the yellow. Ciel was not dissatisfied with that accomplishment.

Ciel picked herself up off the floor. “Congratulations,” she said, as she turned to Penny.

Penny leapt to her feet easily. “You too, Ciel! Well fought.” She bowed, but did not even try to compose her expression as she did so.

“Hmm,” Ciel murmured. “To clarify: you knew that my semblance meant I would avoid your first shot, yes?”

Penny nodded. “But even with your semblance, you can only concentrate on so many things at once. I used my semblance to give you a lot to think about.”

Ciel nodded. “But how did you know where I would end up to set up your shot?”

“I guessed,” Penny said cheerfully.

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “You guessed?”

“And rightly, too,” Penny reminded her.

“Indeed,” Ciel said, her tone even. “But nevertheless…what would you have done if your guess had been incorrect?”

“A lot worse than I did,” Penny said, and the fact that this was probably the true answer didn’t make it better to hear.

“You were lucky,” Ciel informed her. “You cannot afford to rely on good fortune.”

“But I won,” insisted the coppertopped gynoid with due cheer.

“This time,” Ciel corrected. “If I had hit you, and you had missed me, then you would have been in serious trouble.”

“I suppose,” Penny allowed, and then her expression shifted. “Ciel?”

“Yes?”

“Why do we train by ourselves?” Penny asked. “In a real battle, I’d have a team supporting me. So even if you’d hit me and I’d have missed, then my team would have covered for me.”

“As would mine,” Ciel replied, countering her point. “Not that it necessarily follows that you will always be fighting alongside support.”

“It doesn’t?”

“You are the Dragonslayer now, the hero of Atlas,” Ciel reminded her. “There is a non-negligible chance that you may be tasked with completing high-risk missions single-handedly, on the basis of your reputation won at Vale.”

Penny’s brow furrowed a little. “But I had help at Vale.”

“A fact which is not universally understood,” Ciel said. “A single hero is easier for the public to comprehend than a joint effort.” A very slight smile tugged at one corner of her lip. “You wanted glory; that may come with some negative consequences.”

Penny pouted, a glum look coming across her face. “Hey, Ciel?”

“Yes?”

“How do you think they’re all doing?”

Ciel folded her arms. “That depends very much on who ‘they’ are.”

“Ruby, Pyrrha,” Penny said. “Our friends.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I have no information on that, Penny. With the CCT network down, it is impossible to ascertain their statuses.”

“I know that,” Penny said. “That’s why I asked you what you thought.”

Ciel considered that for a moment. A part of her considered baseless speculation to be pointless…but that would not be a helpful thing to say to Penny. “Reports out of Vale are troubling, and out of Mistral…incomprehensible,” she confessed. They had only rumours coming out of both kingdoms, but at least the rumours coming of Vale all pointed in the same direction – a grim direction, but a consistent one nevertheless – whereas those from Mistral were hopelessly garbled. “But Ruby and Pyrrha are both highly skilled huntresses; I am as sure as can be in the circumstances that they are both still alive, although I would not like to speculate upon the comfort of their existences at present.”

Penny nodded. “I…I think so too,” she said. “Or at least I’d like to. It…it doesn’t feel right that I should be here in Atlas about to start raising money while my friends are fighting out there in the world.”

“I would have thought that being the centre of attention would appeal to you,” Ciel remarked dryly.

“Not while other people are in trouble!” Penny cried.

Ciel felt that she probably ought to do something, so she awkwardly gave Penny a pat on the shoulder. “I understand that propaganda performances are not what any huntress dreams of,” she conceded, “but that does not make them any less necessary. At present, it is the best way that you can help our friends.”

“It is?” Penny asked, a look of confusion upon her face. “Are you just saying that?”

“Have I ever lied to you, Penny?” Ciel asked, a touch of reproach entering her voice.

“No.”

“There are some within this Kingdom who would prefer that we look inwards at this time, or at least look no further than our own borders and the defence of the same,” Ciel said. “There are some who would rather that the CCT network was not restored and our fleets never again depart out of sight of Atlas or Mantle. There are some who say we were defeated at Vale, and that our losses there demonstrate the folly of our policies and the hollowness of all our pride. Your upcoming tour is not just about raising money; it is about reminding people of the best of Atlas and what we stand for: how our forces stood against the dark at Vale and triumphed, saving both the Kingdom and the day. To remind people that while our victory was not without sacrifice it was a victory nonetheless: a city saved, a horde of grimm defeated.” It was true that Professor Ozpin had been killed and one of the four relics taken, but first of all that was only known to a handful, second the relic had not been defended by Atlesian forces and third Ciel was inclined to be sanguine about the loss of the relic in any event. Their enemy possessed a gift from the gods; but they had the favour of the divine upon their side also, and what was a trinket that had once known the touch of godhead when set against the Lady’s grace allied to Atlas’ might and majesty? “Our light has not gone out of the world, the spark remains that shall be rekindled into an inferno to burn away all darkness. When the construction of the Menagerie tower is completed and worldwide communications are restored, then we will step forth into the world once more, and you can rescue our friends and anyone else who is in need.”

“Really?”

“Indeed,” Ciel said. “If they are in need of rescuing.”

Penny grinned. “I’d like that. To drop from the sky and give them a big surprise.”

“In time,” Ciel said. “If we do our part to stand firm against the doubters, and inspire anew those who may feel their faith wavering.”

“There are really people who want us to turn our back on everyone else?”

“Small minds are ever present, Penny,” Ciel declared, “and in times of crisis it is easier to lose hope, and those who lose hope give ear to those who shout. Your task is to sound louder, as loud as a trumpet, and in the sounding restore hope to those who have none.”

“By summer, I swear I shall be a light in dark places, when all other lights go out,” Penny said, her voice quiet as she quoted the oath that she had sworn.”

“Precisely,” Ciel acknowledged. She checked the time again. “I have to head back to our room now.”

“Why?” Penny asked.

Ciel drew in a sharp intake of breath. “I…need to get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Penny demanded. “What are we doing tonight?”

“You are having a nice, quiet evening at home,” Ciel informed her. “I need to get ready because I…” – she coughed into her fist – “I have a date tonight.”

Penny gasped. She clasped her hands together underneath her chin, her face seeming to distort momentarily as she bounced across the chamber towards Ciel. “A date? Who is it? Do I know them? Where did you meet? How long has this been going on, and why didn’t you tell me already?”

Her face was about an inch away from Ciel’s at this point, eyes gleaming eagerly. Ciel pressed two fingers against Penny’s forehead and firmly pushed her away, the other girl’s feet scraping upon the floor as she slid backwards until she was an arm’s length away. “Curb your enthusiasm,” Ciel told her. “Yes, a date. A blind date, so I don’t know who he is, and we have never met. An old friend of mine, Cloudchaser – we lived next door to each other on the base in Granite in Vacuo for two years when I was a child – set me up. She says that I will like him, and I trust her enough to meet him.”

“It seems a little strange, dating a guy you’ve never met,” Penny said.

“I am not marrying him,” Ciel replied. “It’s only one date. If we are not compatible, there need not be a second.”

Ciel and Penny shared a room together in Atlas Academy – at least they would until they set off across the Kingdom together – and so it was to that room that they returned, together, for Ciel to get ready. Ciel chose a dress to wear, a cocktail dress of midnight blue, backless and strapless and fastening around a collar at her neck, long and elegant but not difficult to walk in, something that indicated what kind of a person she was and what kind of things that she liked to wear without being too ridiculous for a first date – and laid it out on her bed before she got a hot shower.

She would not admit this to Penny, but she was, as she let the water fall down upon her, a little nervous. It might not ultimately matter, but at the same time, that didn’t alter the fact that Ciel would rather get this right, if at all possible.

Not at the expense of being herself, of course, but at the same time, if being herself meant that she didn’t get a second date, then what did that say about her? She would rather things worked out, if possible. She would like them to work out better than they had with Scarlet, at any rate.

She would also like to think that Cloudchaser still knew her well enough not to set her up with anyone that she would find completely detestable. To be proved wrong about that would also be disappointing.

When she came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, she found Penny sorting through her wardrobe.

Ciel stared at her for a moment. “Penny,” she said, her voice as sharp as any of Floating Array’s blades, “what are you doing?”

“I don’t think you’ve made the best choice,” Penny said, as she held up a white gown with a high collar and a ruffled skirt and neckline both alike. “I think this looks better.”

“No,” Ciel said.

“No?” Penny asked.

“No,” Ciel repeated.

“Why not?” Penny inquired.

“It’s too much for a first date,” Ciel informed her.

Penny’s eyes narrowed. “You got a fur trimmed cape out,” she pointed out to Ciel.

“Faux fur,” Ciel corrected.

“My point stands regardless,” Penny replied.

“Just because it is only a first date doesn’t mean that I can’t look nice,” Ciel said, a slight touch of defensiveness entering her voice. “I have made my decision, put those- actually, I will put those back later.”

She got dressed, politely but firmly rebuffing Penny’s offer to help in that regard; the blue of her dress was interrupted by a silver sash around the waist, and filmy, nearly transparent peplum just beneath it; a pair of long white gloves concealed the bulk of her arms from view, even as the cut of the dress – narrowing in a lambda towards the clasp where it reached the collar around her neck – left her shoulders completely visible.

“You look nice.”

“Thank you, Penny,” Ciel said, as she checked that her pistol was loaded before she put it into her purse.

“Do you think you’ll need that?” Penny asked.

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Ciel replied, her tone even.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Yes, I’ve chosen that,” Ciel said softly. “We’re going to dinner at The Celtic Phoenix.” She’d chosen it because it was a place she was familiar with – she’d gone there a few times before, including recently to celebrate her graduation – because it wasn’t too expensive or intimidating, and because, in the worst case scenario, even if she didn’t like the boy, at least she knew that she would like the food.

She sat down at a little dressing table, propping up a mirror in front of it to do her make-up. Penny, as it turned out, had suggestions for that too, which Ciel had to decline just as she had declined Penny’s help with choosing a dress.

“Thank you, Penny,” Ciel said, as she applied some dark, smokey grey eyeshadow.

Penny blinked. “For what?”

“I have seven younger brothers, but I always wondered what it would have been like to have a little sister,” Ciel said. “And now I know.”

“You’re welcome,” Penny said cheerfully, and then her face changed as if she had realized something unpleasant. “Wait, did you just insult me?”

“From a certain point of view, I might have paid you a compliment,” Ciel replied. She glanced at Penny. “I appreciate your desire to help me. I just don’t trust your judgment in these matters.” She finished rouging her lips, and about time too as there was a knock at the door.

“Is that him?” Penny asked.

Ciel checked her watch. It was eight o’clock. “It could be,” she said.

Penny beamed. “Good luck.”

Ciel took a breath and nodded silently in acknowledgement of Penny’s good wishes. Her roommate bounced up and down on the balls of her feet as Ciel got up, smoothing out her skirt with both white-gloved hands as she did so, and made her way over to the door.

Said door slid open, revealing a tall, young faunus with black wings jutting out from the back of his all white – except for the black bow tie – suit. Blue silver hair styled into a mohawk stuck up atop his head like the crest of an antique-style helmet. He had a square jaw and strong, solid cheekbones; he stared down with amber eyes at Ciel, who considered that it was probably not the worst start that the first word out of his mouth was, “Whoa.”

Ciel curtsied, before realising a moment later that that might have been a mistake. But it was a bit late by then, so there was nothing to do but plough on regardless. “Good evening,” she greeted. “My name is-“

“Ciel Soleil,” he finished. “Before I make a complete idiot of myself, you are Cloudchaser’s friend, right?”

“That is correct,” Ciel replied, with a degree of surprise in her voice. “And you are?”

He stood to attention, slamming. “Second Lieutenant Thunderlane, Thirty-Second Squadron!” His face, although it was as dark as Ciel’s, nevertheless reddened visibly as he realised what he’d just done. “I mean I’m Thunderlane, it’s an honour- I mean it’s a pleasure to-“ He tried to offer her his hand, but there was a bouquet of roses already in it. “Would you mind closing that door and giving me a chance to start over?”

Ciel looked at him, and a smile graced her lips. “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

“No?” Thunderlane asked, sounding disappointed.

“No,” Ciel repeated. “I think you’re doing okay so far.”

“He is?” Penny asked sceptically, and unfortunately, loudly.

Ciel ignored her, although Thunderlane looked as if he was having a little trouble doing the same. Nevertheless, he offered her the six red roses.

“These are for you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ciel said as she took the flowers. “Please give me a second.”

“Of course.”

Fortunately, there was already a vase in the room in which she could quickly place the flowers; she would take them out of the plastic later. Right now, she picked up her cape with its faux-fur lining and fastened it around her throat. “I’m ready to move out,” she reported, and after a sudden blink, she corrected herself. “I mean I’m ready to go, if you are.” She picked up her purse.

“Sure,” Thunderlane said, sounding as if he still couldn’t quite believe that she hadn’t slammed the door on him already. “Oh, actually there is one thing.” He stood to attention once again. “Miss Dragonslayer?”

Penny pointed to herself. “Me?”

“Thank you,” Thunderlane said. “On behalf of the entire Thirty-Second. There’s a lot of guys who might not have made it back home if you hadn’t taken that thing out when you did.”

Penny’s mouth opened, but she seemed at a loss for words. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.

Thunderlane nodded, before returning his attention to Ciel. “Sorry, now I’m ready.”

“Don’t apologise,” Ciel said softly. “There is absolutely no need.”

He offered her his arm, which was a minor point in his favour as they cleared the dorm room – the door closed behind them automatically – and the two of them began to make their way down the corridor.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said.

“As I said, an apology is unnecessary,” Ciel said.

“No, the other stuff,” Thunderlane said. “I was not prepared for the fact that Cloudchaser was going to set me up with Ciel Soleil, hero of Atlas.”

Ciel’s eyebrows rose. “Are you certain that you don’t have me confused with someone else? I am not a hero of Atlas.”

“You were at ground zero in the Breach,” Thunderlane said. “You helped evacuate the Amity Arena and defend Beacon. You fought in the front line at the Battle of Vale. Sounds pretty heroic to me.”

“A lot of people helped evacuate the Amity Arena,” Ciel replied. “Even more defended Beacon, and even more than that fought in the Battle of Vale.”

“Then they’re all heroes,” Thunderlane allowed. “But you’re one of them.”

“So are you, apparently,” Ciel observed. “You were there, in the skies over Vale?”

“I…” Thunderlane looked uncomfortable. “I was just trying to stay alive.”

Modest, I see. “Everyone was just trying to stay alive,” Ciel said. “But you don’t need to be nervous.”

“No?”

“Since we’ve established there are so many heroes of Atlas, then the idea that you might meet one has been rendered commonplace and unremarkable.”

Thunderlane snorted. “I will try and keep that in mind, thanks. Although I still kind of wish Cloudchaser had given me a heads up first.”

Ciel smiled. “Understandable.”

“But she did tell me that you wanted to pick the place, so where are we going?”

“Have you ever eaten at the Celtic Phoenix?”

“I’m sorry, but that can’t come in here.”

Ciel had eaten at The Celtic Phoenix more than once in the past, and never once had she noticed that there were never any faunus patrons in the restaurant. It wasn’t even as though she had noticed without giving it a second thought. She had just…failed to notice.

Right now, that felt like an unforgivable lapse.

“’That’?” Ciel repeated. “Second Lieutenant Thunderlane is an Atlesian officer-“

“And we have the right to refuse service to anyone, for any reason,” the maitre’d said, as he stood behind a glass table not far from the door.

“It’s fine,” Thunderlane said.

“It is most certainly not fine,” Ciel growled.

“Maybe not,” Thunderlane acknowledged, “but it is what it is.” He turned away, and the doors slid open for him as he walked out into the street.

“If you would like to convert the Soleil reservation into a table for one?” the maitre’d suggested.

Ciel glared at him. “I have sworn an oath to defend this kingdom and its people,” she snapped. “You should be grateful that I did not swear to defend only those I thought deserving of protection.”

She turned on her heel and stamped out into the cold air that slapped her suddenly as she emerged out of the restaurant. Her face felt so hot with shame that it was a wonder that she didn’t start to steam off in the sudden burst of cold. However much he had avoided making a scene in the restaurant itself, Thunderlane must be absolutely furious with her for putting him through that. She was furious with herself for putting him through that, and putting herself through that as well. He was a pilot, an officer, someone who had fought in the same battles that she had, and she had set him up to be humiliated by a petty little man who had never put anything on the line to defend the realms of men.

Thunderlane was waiting for her outside, his hands thrust into his suit pockets and his wings flapping lazily behind him. He didn’t look in the least bit upset with her.

That made her feel much worse.

“I had no idea that that would happen,” Ciel apologized. “As much as I know that that is no excuse for the fact that it did. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Thunderlane repeated.

“No, it isn’t,” Ciel insisted. “You have just been insulted by a lesser man than you in every respect; how can that be called okay?”

Thunderlane was silent for a moment. He kept his hands in his pockets. “Maybe it’s not okay,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t mean that I have to get mad about it.”

“Doesn't it? Shouldn’t you?” Ciel asked. She turned away from him and crossed the street – looking both ways as she did – to reach the other side, where a white stone fake marble balcony looked over a lower level of the city. The lights of Atlas illuminated the darkness, glimmering in every conceivable colour, obscuring all detail of what lay beneath those lights. Obscuring the flaws that marred the greatest kingdom in Remnant.

And it was the greatest kingdom, Ciel believed that wholeheartedly; Atlas was a shining kingdom in the clouds…which meant that she didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that for all its greatness, it did remain flawed, like any human work.

She felt Thunderlane coming to stand beside her.

“Why does this not bother you?” Ciel asked.

Thunderlane was quiet for a moment. Then he put his right foot on the balcony, and lifted up the leg of his trousers to reveal that his leg was actually a prosthetic, the metal gleaming under the moonlight.

Ciel looked at it for a moment. “You lost it at Vale?” she said, her voice soft and barely asking the question at all.

“Not just this one,” Thunderlane muttered.

Ciel sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “Both of them?”

Thunderlane nodded.

Ciel didn’t ask how. She sensed that was not something that he wished to talk about. “I’m sorry.”

Thunderlane covered his prosthetic up with his trousers once more and lowered his foot to the ground. “I could be dead right now,” he said. “So I suppose the reason that I’m not upset is that…the fact that I can’t go into one restaurant doesn’t really matter that much in the grand scheme of things. I think I’ve got a lot more to be thankful for than I have to complain about, if you stop to think about it: I’m alive, I can walk…and I’m out with a beautiful girl.”

Ciel stared at him. Thunderlane grinned.

Ciel found herself smiling back at him. “Thank you,” she said, “but I am sorry, nevertheless. It shouldn’t be this way.”

“And it won’t always,” Thunderlane said, “but for now…is it too much to hope that we can still salvage something out of his night, rather than destroy everything that’s left of it with a tantrum?”

Ciel’s smile remained upon her face. “No, I think the night is young enough that we might yet make something of it,” she said. “So, where are we going now?”

Thunderlane’s amber eyes widened. “You’re asking me?”

“My choice did not work out so well,” Ciel reminded him.

“Yeah, but…” Thunderlane hesitated. “When Cloudchaser told me you wanted to pick the place, I was happy enough to do it because…I don’t really know any classy places.”

Ciel’s eyebrow rose slightly. “You have just been more generous than I had any right to expect, and you think that I’m going to turn my nose up at your choice?”

Thunderlane reached up and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not that, it’s…I’d hate to take you somewhere…and you’d think that I thought that was all you were worth, you know?”

“In the circumstances, I will understand,” Ciel said. “Besides, it isn’t as though we could get a table at any ‘classy’ establishment without reservations in any case.”

“I guess not,” Thunderlane replied. He hesitated. He looked around. “Okay. I might know a place. It isn’t even that far from here.”

“What kind of place?” Ciel asked.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” Thunderlane said. “You’ll have to wait and see for yourself.”

Ciel stared at him, before a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Very well,” she said. “Lead-“ she was interrupted by the buzzing of her scroll from within her purse. “Excuse me a moment, this might be important.”

“Go ahead,” Thunderlane replied.

Ciel nodded and walked away from him a few feet as she opened up her purse and took out her scroll. It was Penny, calling on voice only.

Ciel opened up the device. “Penny, is something wrong?”

“A little bit,” Penny replied. “Why haven’t you gone into the restaurant?”

Ciel froze for a second. “Penny,” she said, her voice slower and just a little colder. “Where are you?”

“I’m watching you from the roof of the Atlas Recursive Insurance corporate headquarters,” Penny said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Ciel, I’ve got you covered. I’m just a little confused about what’s going on. You went into the restaurant and then you came straight out again. Didn’t you have a reservation?”

“The restaurant doesn’t serve faunus, apparently,” Ciel murmured, speaking very quietly so that Thunderlane couldn’t hear any of this, “but that is not the point, Penny. Why are you following me?”

“Ruby told me that whenever Yang has a date, she follows them and provides overwatch,” Penny answered. “Or at least, she used to before Yang died.” Her voice, which had dipped a little into melancholy, recovered its prior bonhomie. “So here I am, doing my part like a good friend.”

Ciel rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised that Ruby Rose is at the bottom of this?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Penny asked.

“Yes,” Ciel declared firmly. “I know that you mean well, Penny, but the fact remains that this is not normal, and I do not need you to provide covering fire.”

“But what if he tries anything inappropriate?”

Would you even be able to recognise inappropriate behaviour in this context? “What does Ruby do in that circumstance?” she asked, leaving aside the fact that the late Miss Xiao-Long had probably been perfectly capable of dealing with such situations without support.

“She said she loaded Crescent Rose with tranquiliser rounds.”

Ciel nodded, for all that Penny couldn’t see it – or perhaps she could. “Penny, you have lasers.”

“That…is an excellent point well made,” Penny admitted. “Do you…want me to go?”

“I would prefer it, yes,” Ciel said. She glanced back at Thunderlane, waiting patiently for her to finish. “Besides, I don’t believe I’m going to have any trouble with him.” She paused for a moment. “Oh, Penny, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“The roof of the Atlas Re building was an excellent choice of position,” Ciel praised her. “Well done.” She snapped her scroll shut and put it back in her purse. “My apologies for that,” she said, as she turned around and walked back towards Thunderlane.

“Work?” Thunderlane said. “Do you have to go?”

“You could call it work,” Ciel admitted, “but no, I don’t have to go anywhere.”

Thunderlane grinned. “So, which of your friends is on overwatch waiting to shoot me if I don’t treat you right?”

Ciel felt her cheeks redden a little. “How did you-“

“Her voice carries,” Thunderlane said.

Ciel let out a little sigh. “It’s Penny Dragonslayer.”

Thunderlane’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. I don’t know whether to be flattered or alarmed.”

“Personally, I feel somewhat embarrassed,” Ciel muttered. “I did not ask her to do this.”

“No, she did it anyway because she cares about you,” Thunderlane replied. “That’s…I think it’s nice.”

“Really?” Ciel murmured. “Does that mean that you have a comrade covering you in case I misbehave?”

“Oh, no,” Thunderlane said. “I asked the duty officer to do me a favour and confine all my friends to base for the night so that they couldn’t follow me out here.”

Ciel laughed, covering her mouth with one white-gloved hand as the sound escaped her lips. “Clearly, you are more prescient than I am,” she said. “Or at least you know your friends better.”

“They weren’t very subtle about it,” Thunderlane said. “Anyway, now that you know that you don’t have to worry about that and I know exactly who I have to worry about, shall we go?” He offered her his arm.

Ciel slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and the two of them set off down the street, passing in and out of the cold, pale patches of light cast by the streetlamps and the intermittent darkness that gathered between them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Ciel requested, as she placed both hands upon his arm. She could feel the muscles underneath.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you want to become a pilot?”

Thunderlane looked down at her. “What made you want to become a huntress?”

“I asked first,” Ciel pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Thunderlane admitted. Nevertheless he didn’t answer for a moment. “Are you really asking me why I fly or why I’m in the military?”

Ciel pursed her lips together for a moment. “Both,” she said.

Thunderlane chuckled. “The first part’s easy,” he said. “I fly because it’s cool. I mean, what little kid doesn’t want to be a pilot?”

“Guilty as charged,” Ciel murmured. “My mother was a pilot. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be just like her.”

“Was?” Thunderlane asked, his voice gentle. “Is she-“

“No, thank the Lady,” Ciel replied. “She’s still alive, just not on active duty any more.”

“I’m glad,” Thunderlane said. “And not just because that would have been very uncomfortable.”

Ciel snorted. “You were saying?”

“When I’m in the air,” Thunderlane began, moving his wings in concert with what he was saying. “Even when I’m flying with these, but even moreso when I’m in a plane going at speeds that I could never reach with just the wings that nature gave me…there’s no limits, you know? Nothing to hold me down, nothing to stop me. I think that might be another reason why places like that restaurant don’t bother me much; they can stop me from getting a table, but they can’t take the sky from me. So long as I can fly…” he looked at Ciel. “So why didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You just said that you wanted to be a pilot like your mother,” Thunderlane said. “So why didn’t you?”

Ciel hesitated, not replying for a moment. Indeed, she didn’t reply for longer than a moment, saying nothing as the two of them walked down the street, passing between light and shadow. “It is…a little embarrassing.”

“Airsick?” Thunderlane suggested jokingly.

“No!” Ciel said firmly. “I spent some time on flight simulators; I went up in a trainer, and I…I did not enjoy it. It turns out that I like having limits, and something to hold me down.”

“Maybe...” Thunderlane murmured, trailing off.

“Maybe?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Forget I said that.”

Ciel’s brow furrowed momentarily. “Of course, you could have become a civilian pilot.”

“Yeah, I could,” Thunderlane admitted. “But then, people wouldn’t look up into the sky and feel hope whenever they saw me flying overhead.”

“Is that what you want?” Ciel asked. “To be a symbol of hope?”

“Does that sound really pretentious?”

“No,” Ciel said. “Not to me. I think it sounds…very admirable.”

“I think that what you specialists do is really awesome,” Thunderlane said. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t. Like I told your friend, all us pilots have cause to thank the Dragonslayer for taking that monster out before it swatted us all out of the skies. But the thing about it is…when you’re doing your jobs, nobody knows that you’re doing them half the time. But when people see me flying overhead, they know that Atlas has them covered, and when our soldiers see me coming, they know that somebody is looking out for them. We’re the comfort blanket for this whole kingdom, and- that came out wrong, didn’t it?”

Ciel chuckled softly. “The imagery is…not perfect,” she admitted, “but I understand what you mean. May I make a confession that would harm my reputation if any one of my comrades were near enough to hear it?”

“Well now you’ve intrigued me so much that I might have to insist you say it,” Thunderlane said.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Ciel said. “Because I feel the same way. When I see our fleet in the skies above, it feels…when my mother tucked me into bed, she told me that the Lady of the North would send a guardian angel to watch over me while I slept. I told the same thing to my little brothers when I tucked them into bed. I…don’t know if that’s true, but when I see our fleet in the skies above, I know that I have a whole sky full of guardian angels watching me, whether I’m awake or sleeping.”

“Well, we are pretty awesome,” Thunderlane said faux-boastfully.

Ciel shook her head. “And here I thought you were modest.”

“I’m personally modest,” Thunderlane said. “I’m not modest at all about the group.”

“Ah, an important distinction,” Ciel replied.

“I think so,” Thunderlane said. “So, why did you decide to become a huntress? I answered; it must be your turn by now.”

Ciel exhaled, and for a moment there was only the sound of their footsteps on the street. “My family has always served this kingdom, whether it was called Atlas or Mantle before it. My great-grandfather fought in the Great War, my father is the chief of the deck on board the Fearless, my mother was a pilot. It…it would have been a great shame if someone in my family hadn’t followed in their footsteps. And besides, as strange as it might seem, I truly believe that this is a kingdom worth defending with our lives.”

“As strange as it may seem?”

“A kingdom that won’t let you eat wherever you choose,” Ciel admitted.

“A kingdom that gave me two new legs after I lost the old ones,” Thunderlane countered. “You don’t have to be ashamed of loving this country in front of me. I love it too.”

“It isn’t perfect,” Ciel said, “but I would like to think that in the military at least, whether in the specialists or the regular infantry or the fleet or the air corps…there is no human or faunus but only soldiers, all bound together in a common cause.”

“Yeah,” Thunderlane replied. “I think that’s true. And as for the rest…the good way outweighs the bad. This is the Kingdom that raised me. This is the Kingdom that keeps my family safe. The least that I can do is repay the favour.”

She believed him. Looking into his eyes it was impossible not to. “I feel the same way,” she murmured. Her lips twitched. “Does it feel to you as though Cloudchaser knew what she was doing when she set us up?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Thunderlane said. “Although…maybe hold off until you see where we’re going.”

The place they were going turned out to be a doughnut shop, Joe’s, judging by the name above the door, where a few tables sat atop a chequered floor on the other side of a glass door.

Thunderlane looked embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head. “I told you that I didn’t know any classy places,” he said.

“And I believe I told you that I wasn’t concerned,” Ciel replied, as they crossed the street. Thunderlane opened the door, a bell tinkled above them as they walked in. There were a few other people already in there, sitting around the round wooden tables, and they looked up and stared at Ciel and Thunderlane as they entered. Ciel couldn’t help but feel that they were staring rather more at her, in her cocktail dress and evening gloves and fur-lined cape, than at Thunderlane.

She paid them no mind. As the saying went, no one is ever embarrassed by being too well-dressed. She wasn’t sure that it was applicable in all circumstances, but in the present circumstance, it made her feel much less self-conscious.

Behind the counter stood a heavyset middle-aged man dressed in white, with his brown hair almost but not quite obscured by his hat. “Hey, Thunderlane!”

“Hey, Joe,” Thunderlane replied, raising one hand in greeting.

Joe looked from Thunderlane to Ciel, a frown crossing his face. “Gods, Thunderlane, what are you thinking, bringing a real classy lady into a joint like this?”

“You’re the best we can do at short notice, Joe,” Thunderlane said, without a trace of shame on his face.

“Oh, thanks, that makes me feel great,” Joe replied. “What’s your name, Miss?”

“Ciel Soleil, sir.”

“Please, no need to call me sir, just…Ciel Soleil? I thought I recognised you from somewhere, the Vytal Festival! You were on the team with the Dragonslayer, right?”

“That is correct,” Ciel replied.

“Well, I’ll be,” Joe muttered. “So how did you end up in a place like this?”

Ciel looked down at the floor. “The place that I had chosen…was not as suitable as I thought.”

She thought that Joe understood what she was trying to say. “That’s…a bad break,” he said. “Well, sit down and see if there’s anything here that you like.”

They took a seat near the window. Ciel opened one of the menus, pleasantly surprised to find that while everything on the menu was a doughnut, not everything was a dessert. “What is a cheese doughnut?”

“It’s what it sounds like: a doughnut filled with grilled cheese,” Thunderlane said.

Ciel blinked. “Is it good?”

“You’d be better off with the doughnut rings,” Thunderlane said. “They’re like bagels…but doughnuts.”

The corner of Ciel’s lip twitched upwards. “I think my youngest brothers would like it here. I might bring them…only rarely of course. Perhaps as a treat.”

“You’ve mentioned brothers before,” Thunderlane said. “How many?”

“Seven,” Ciel replied.

Thunderlane’s eyes widened. “Seven younger brothers? Gods, your mom really is a warrior, isn’t she?”

“There is a reason why she quit the military,” Ciel replied. “Especially after I went to Combat School and there was nobody to help her with the younger children.”

“Let me guess,” Thunderlane said. “Before that happened, you were stuck raising the little ones while your parents were away.”

“From time to time,” Ciel allowed.

“Yeah, it was the same with me and Rumble,” Thunderlane revealed. “Rumble’s my little brother, my only little brother. My mom wasn’t as heroic as yours.”

“Heroic? I’ll be sure to tell her you said that.”

“You’re going to tell your mother about me?”

“I…am strongly considering it,” Ciel said. “You did, after all, take me to a doughnut shop for our first date.”

Thunderlane let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I guess that warrants a mention, doesn’t it?”

“Although of course the real question is…where are we going to go for our second date?”

Thunderlane stared at her for a moment. His mouth hung open a little. “There…there’s going to be a second date?”

“Isn’t there?” Ciel asked, hoping that she had done a good enough job of covering up her nervousness as she asked it.

Thunderlane smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I think there will be.”

Concert

Concert

There was a bouquet in Weiss’ dressing room.

Actually, there were a great many bouquets in her dressing room, so many that it verged on embarrassing, and so many too that, if she hadn’t had such a large dressing room, it might have gotten quite crowded in here. There was a bouquet from Twilight; and another from Blake – belladonna flowers, of course – and one from General Ironwood to thank her for doing her part to help the troops; and one from Diamond Tiara, possibly because she was confused as to the state of relations between Weiss and her brother; and of course, there were various bouquets that had come from fans excited about her big return to the stage after a long absence. But there was only one bouquet that had no note attached, and it was that one that intrigued her.

It was a bouquet of roses, six white and five red, and there was nothing to indicate who had sent it. She very much hoped that it wasn’t just some creepy stalker, because that would have been very disappointing.

Almost as disappointing as having to come back to the stage when she had thought that she had left all this behind forever.

Still, Weiss thought as she sat in her dressing room, staring back at her reflection in the mirror, it was hard to feel too downhearted about this state of affairs when she was surrounded by the proof of the enthusiasm that it had inspired in other people. Mirror, mirror, on the wall: tell me who’s the loneliest of all? Well, not Weiss Schnee, it seemed, not any more. It was true that some, perhaps even the majority, of those bouquets were from people who didn’t know her anymore, but at the same time, some of them were from people who did know her, and some who knew her as well as anyone did. She only had to look at the bouquet of belladonnas or at the mixed bunch of flowers that Twilight had sent her to know that she wasn’t alone, not any more. She might be back in Atlas, she might be back in her father’s house, she might be back performing on stage, but that didn’t mean that her life had been reset completely to the way it was before she went to Beacon. Beacon was gone, and much that was good in the world now stood in peril, but she could take a small degree of comfort in knowing that the positive effects it had wrought upon her life yet lingered in some fashion.

She didn’t really want to do this, to go up onto that stage and belt out her old favourites to the crowd, but it was hard to get worked up with resentment about it when she was surrounded by the proof of the enthusiasm that others felt for her return, when she only had to think about how excited Twilight was to see her perform again, when she only had look down at the card that had accompanied General Ironwood’s bouquet and which now sat upon little table in the dressing room.

Dear Miss Schnee,

I would like to thank you, personally and on behalf of all our forces, for your generosity in giving your time and talent to our aid. It is appreciated, and it will be remembered.

Yours,

General James Ironwood

It was hard to resent doing something when the reason you were doing it was couched in terms like that.

It might not be exactly what she wanted to do, but it was something good that she was doing nevertheless, and if she focussed on that – and on the way that she seemed to be brightening up the lives of others even if not her own – then it didn’t seem so bad.

Yes, it didn’t seem so bad at all.

The show wasn’t about to start just yet, but Weiss was already dressed and made up and ready for when it did. Rarity had made her a new dress to wear to the concert, and so Weiss was attired in a gown of midnight blue, long and flowing with a high waistline just beneath her bust so that the bulk of the gown billowed out all around her in all directions. Six straps criss-crossed out from around a boob window, fastening the gown around her neck and falling downwards across her otherwise bare arms – her shoulders likewise were left bare to the world. A sheer overlay of white silk, sewn about with diamonds and sapphires – or possibly fake approximations of the same – fell down around her dress almost to the hem, sparkling in the light of the dressing room. A sapphire bracelet – single strand, small and delicate – dangled from around her right wrist. It was…a little excessive, but if there was ever a time for that, it was probably when she was about to go on stage.

Which was not quite yet, and since it was not quite yet, Weiss felt a little restive. She got up off the chair, gathering the folds of her long gown up in both hands, and left the dressing room with her name upon the door and walked, dragging her dress behind her like a bridal train, towards the dressing room of the real star of tonight’s show.

The name on the door said Penny Dragonslayer. From the far side of the door, Weiss could hear voices coming from within.

“And then they went to a doughnut shop.”

“Ciel went to a doughnut shop?” Was that Twilight’s voice?

“Uh-huh. But they seemed to have a really nice time when they got there. Anyway, that’s why I need a less than lethal option for a weapon…”

Weiss knocked on the dressing room door.

A deathly silence appeared to descend on the other side of the room.

“Ciel?” someone, Penny presumably, Weiss had met the other girl – or gynoid – but didn’t know her well enough to be certain of recognising her voice, asked with a slight hint of nervousness.

“No, it’s Weiss Schnee,” Weiss said, with a little amusement creeping into her voice.

The door opened to reveal Twilight stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a soft blue ballgown with a high collar that rose up like a wave behind her head. A black choker, from which hung a lavender pendant that matched her eyes, was clasped tight about her throat.

She smiled. “Hey, Weiss,” she said, as she stepped back from the door to reveal Penny – Weiss recognised her by sight, even if she didn’t recognise her by the sound of her voice – dressed in a uniform that put Weiss in mind of her elder sister, with the blue-grey waistcoat over a long white tailcoat and a cravat fastened around her collar.

Weiss returned Twilight’s smile. “Good evening, Twilight, Penny.”

“Greetings, Weiss Schnee,” Penny said cheerily.

Twilight began. “I was just-“

“Gossiping?” Weiss suggested.

Twilight’s face reddened ever so slightly. “I was going to say doing a last minute check on Penny’s vocal cords but…yes, that too.”

Weiss chuckled. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” Penny said. “Be my guest.”

Weiss walked in – Twilight making way before her – and closed the door behind her. “So, what happened?”

“Ciel went on a date,” Penny said. “I was just telling Twilight what happened.”

Weiss slender brows furrowed. “Ciel…she’s your old teammate, isn’t she? How do you know what happened on their date?”

“I was on overwatch,” the coppertop informed her as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You mean you followed them,” Weiss said.

“I stand by what I said,” Penny replied.

“Apparently Ruby told her it was normal,” Twilight murmured.

“I see,” Weiss murmured. I wonder if Jaune and Pyrrha ever noticed?

“I have to admit, it is interesting knowing what went on,” Twilight said, with an appropriate degree of shame in her voice.

“I’m not sure that your friend would see it the same way,” Weiss replied softly. “But I didn’t actually come here to embarrass you both, but to ask how you were feeling, Penny?”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I feel…I feel as though I’ve wanted this for a long time, but now that I have it…I don’t want it any more. Did you know that my father’s here?”

“No,” Weiss said. “No, I didn’t.”

“And General Ironwood, and Councillor Cadenza; everyone is here for this,” Penny said. “Everyone’s here to see me…and you, of course, Weiss.”

Weiss smiled softly. “You don’t have to flatter me, Penny; you’re the big star tonight.” That might actually have been flattering the robot girl just a little, but she seemed as though she could maybe use the encouragement; and besides, Penny ought to have been a bigger attraction than the return of Weiss Schnee, if all things had been as fair as they ought to be. “Is Blake here?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Twilight admitted. “But the last I heard, she was on her way to pick up her dress from Rarity, so I expect she’ll be out there somewhere.”

“The point is,” Penny went on, “that for a long time, I’ve wanted something like this, to be up on a stage like this – on this stage – with everyone watching me. But now that I’m about to go on stage with everybody looking at me…it doesn’t seem so cool any more.”

“Because the fame isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, compared to the feelings that you could have towards the people that you’d like to share your life with,” Weiss murmured. “It’s a lesson that we all have to learn, I think, Penny, as unfortunate as that is.”

Penny looked at her. “How are you feeling about this?”

Weiss inhaled. “It’s for a good cause,” she said. “The best cause, maybe.”

“Ciel says that what I do on this tour will help to remind people that the Battle of Vale was a victory and restore hope to the hopeless,” Penny pontificated, a note of awe for her place in the world slipping into her voice.

“I hope you’re right, Penny,” Weiss said. “Or at least that Ciel is. Speaking of which, where is your partner?”

The dressing room door opened, revealing Ciel in a uniform much like the one Penny was wearing standing in the doorway. “Ah, Miss Schnee,” Ciel acknowledged, curtsying to her. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”

“No, I was just saying hello to Penny,” Weiss said. “Twilight, thank you very much for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome,” Twilight said. “I should probably be getting to my seat as well. Good luck out there, Penny.”

“Yes,” Weiss said. “Good luck.”

“You too, Weiss Schnee,” Penny said, giving her a thumbs up. “Let’s do our best!”

Weiss chuckled. “I certainly will.”

Ciel cleared the doorway to let them both out, nodding in acknowledgement to Twilight and murmuring ‘Miss Schnee’ to Weiss before she replaced them both in Penny’s dressing room and shut the door.

“Is she going to be okay?” Weiss asked, as she and Twilight walked down the corridor together, holding up their gowns as they pressed against one another.

“I think so,” Twilight said. “She’d just…she’d rather be-“

“Out in the field?” Weiss guessed.

Twilight winced slightly. “Yes,” she admitted. “She’s a little concerned about her friends.”

“Team Sapphire?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Jaune is with Pyrrha,” Weiss said, “and Pyrrha and Ruby are the two best huntresses in the year, so I think they stand a good chance of being okay, whatever’s going on out in the world.”

“You have a teammate of your own in Vale, don’t you?” Twilight asked.

“Yes,” Weiss murmured. “Cardin Winchester.” She felt a little guilty that she hadn’t thought of him more often: where he was, what he was doing, whether he was even still alive. Of him, it could not, unfortunately, be said that he was one of the best huntsmen of the year and so blithely assumed to be okay. He might be, or he might not; it depended entirely on what kind of scrapes he was getting himself into.

Twilight reached out and took Weiss’ hand. “I think…I think Ciel might be right,” she said. “If we all do our best, and if we can just remind people that Atlas is not defeated, that this is a temporary retreat and not a rout, then we’ll be reunited with our friends in the other kingdoms in no time.”

Weiss nodded. “And you? Is there anyone you left behind you’d like to know was fine?”

“I’m mostly pretty lucky in that respect,” Twilight admitted. “Everyone I really care about came home with us, but…I’d like to know that Sunset’s okay, wherever she is. That she’s still alive, at least; I’m not sure how okay you can really be when you’ve been locked up.”

“I’m sure…” Weiss hesitated for a moment. “To be honest, she’s probably safer in prison than any of the other people we might be concerned about.”

Twilight snorted. “Probably. Anyway, I should let you go.”

“And I should let you go find your seat,” Weiss said. “I hope you enjoy the show.”

“Oh, I will,” Twilight, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “I’m sure it will be great. I can’t believe that I’m getting to see you perform live again! And that I got to talk to you backstage before the gig!”

She was so enthusiastic that it was impossible not to be at least a little infected by it. Weiss said, “Look out for a new song that I wrote just for tonight.”

“You wrote a new song?” Twilight gasped. “This is going to be the best night ever!”

Twilight left her then, heading back into the auditorium, but her enthusiasm buoyed Weiss up, compensating for her own somewhat lack of the same, and continued to do so until she was called for and made her way out up and onto the stage.

The concert hall was silent as a tomb as Weiss walked up onto the stage, and just as dark. Her chunky wedge heels tapped upon the black surface underneath, the sounds of her footfalls echoing off the architecture specifically designed to enhance acoustics. This was the place where she had first performed in public, but she had forgotten just how big it was; even in the darkness, she could sense the size of this place, the scale of it, as though she could feel the high ceiling looming so far above her.

A spotlight fell on her as she took up her place, standing in the centre of the Atlesian gear-and-spear that was marked out in white upon the otherwise black stage. The footlights shone into her face, reducing the audience sitting down in the pit below her to mere silhouettes, shadowy figures in suits and gowns, indistinct and indistinguishable. She couldn't see Twilight, she couldn't see Blake, she couldn't make out anyone. She cast a quick glance upwards; in the boxes - the closer ones at least - it was easier to make out some faces, like her father and Whitley sitting alone in the box closest to the stage upon the left. Weiss wondered if Whitley would have liked to have his girlfriend with him; perhaps Father was not so keen. Weiss spotted, or thought she spotted, Diamond Tiara herself in another box, along with her friend Silver Spoon, a little further away from Weiss and from the stage.

All was silent. The world waited upon her word.

There was no live band or orchestra, there was only a technician, barely visible in his dark clothes - the outfit that was supposed to make it hard for the audience made him only a vague shape to Weiss as well - waiting in the wings for her signal to start the music.

Weiss took a deep breath. "Thank you all for coming," she said. "In not too long, you're all going to get to see Penny Polendina, the hero of Atlas, up here. But, right now..." she motioned with one hand for the music to start, "it's my turn." She smiled slightly and took a half-step backwards while remaining in the spotlight as the music began to play.

Weiss closed her eyes, and started to sing.

"When I was young..."

Ciel heard the music begin, echoing backstage as she and Penny waited in Penny's dressing room. Soon, it was joined by the angelic voice of Weiss Schnee herself.

Ciel's brow furrowed ever so slightly. She could not help but feel that Miss Schnee's presence, her dramatic return to the stage, was an attempt to upstage Penny. Not by Miss Schnee herself - she seemed pleasant enough, and Twilight had nothing but good things to say about her - but by her father. Jacques Schnee was a great man, to be sure, and he had been a friend to the military in the past, but he would not be the first great man in history to be vain, both of his personal success and of his legacy. It appeared that, having seen a limelight, he could not resist but to shove his family into it somehow. Or perhaps Ciel was simply being overly suspicious; Jacques Schnee had been a friend to the military in the past, perhaps he simply wished to support them again as he had done before.

With good fortune, it would be that straightforward.

"Ciel?" Penny asked.

Ciel looked down at Penny, where she sat with her face reflected in the dressing room mirror. "Yes?"

"Do I have to say the line about buying another me?" Penny asked.

"You don't want to say it," Ciel murmured.

"No," Penny said. "I'm not something that you can just build in a factory like a knight. I'm me. I'm Penny Polendina."

"You are," Ciel said, "and being Penny Polendina, you are unique. So don't say that line."

Penny blinked. "Really? That's it?"

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "You expected me to argue?"

Penny shrugged. "I thought you might. I thought you'd want me to say the lines as they were written."

"Do not mistake me, any improvisation up on stage will be frowned upon," Ciel declared, "and by more than just myself. But in this instance, that is a badly written line, written by someone who doesn't know you or understand you. It may be that there will be other gynoids or androids created to serve Atlas in the future, but though they follow in your footsteps, they will not be you any more than my brothers are myself. Each will be as unique as you are."

"A flower of the north?" Penny asked.

Ciel's lip twitched upwards. "Precisely. And every flower that blossoms amidst the rage of winter is unique."

Penny was silent for a moment. She listened to the music and the singing floating in from the stage. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I prefer her earlier work; it was less commercialised," Ciel murmured.

Penny's eyes widened. "Are you a fan?"

"No," Ciel said quickly. "I have simply...been known to listen...upon occasion. You are correct; she has been blessed with an immensely talented voice in addition to all the other gifts with which she has been blessed: wealth, grace, valour, skill at arms, and the name of Schnee besides. She is incredibly fortunate."

"Do you think she's lucky?" Penny asked.

"Should I not?" Ciel replied.

"I just think..." Penny hesitated. "Because her name is Schnee, it's like she'll never get to decide for herself what she wants to be. Other people will choose for her."

"That..." Ciel paused. "That is very perceptive, Penny, I hadn't considered that...although now I see why it might have occurred to you. Are you unhappy with the role that has been set for you?"

"No," Penny said quickly. "But it has been chosen, by my father and General Ironwood and others. It's not bad, and because of it, I've made some great friends, but...it wasn't my choice."

"You swore an oath as a huntress of Atlas," Ciel reminded her. "Was that not your choice?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "Yes," she replied.

"No one can swear on your behalf," Ciel said. "No one can speak the words in your stead. No one can bind your soul and body and your honour to our flag but you. That you have done so, that you have chosen to do so...do not lose sight of that, for it is a choice worth making, though all other choices were denied to you."

Penny smiled, albeit briefly. "This party tonight, after the presentation?"

"Yes," Ciel murmured.

"How..." Penny trailed off. She looked down at her hands. "How should I behave?"

It was Ciel’s turn to take pause as she sought a kindly form of words. "With perhaps a little less spring in your step than usual. The after party will be attended by some of our kingdom's wealthiest and most distinguished citizens, including councillors and Jacques Schnee. A touch of decorum would not go amiss."

"You mean that I should act like you?" Penny asked.

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "That rather depends on what you mean by it."

Penny rose to her feet and glided around the stool with hands spread out on either side of her like a dancer. She faced Ciel and curtsied. "I am Ciel Soleil," she declared, her voice dropping an octave as she placed one hand over where her heart would have been, had she possessed one. "It is an honour to make your acquaintance."

Ciel's eyebrows rose yet higher. She folded her arms. "Penny, do you imagine that I was born to these manners?"

Penny blinked. "Yes?"

"My parents were NCOs. I am the first of my family to attend Atlas Academy, let alone graduate," Ciel declared. "I taught myself to behave with grace and courtesy so that I could mingle with Schnees and councillors and not shame myself with my conduct." Ciel spoke of her ambitions rarely, but that did not change the fact that she had ambitions. She did not intend to remain a humble specialist her whole career. "I am not one of them, so I must be better than perfect at the things they do."

Penny's face assumed a pensive expression. "Does that apply to me, too?"

"Perhaps not," Ciel said. "You are...a special case. Nevertheless, I believe that a little restraint would be advisable."

"Restraint," Penny said. "Got it."

Do you? Do you really? Ciel wondered. She had a great deal of affection for Penny, but the idea of her being restrained? Ciel, to put it politely, had doubts.

The set had passed more quickly than Weiss had expected it too. Indeed, she had been surprised by how natural she found it, being back here, singing. Once she had started to sing, it had been like slipping on an old and well worn shoe: it didn't matter how long ago you had last put it on, it hadn't regressed from being worn in in your absence. It had been much the same with being here; having trained her voice back into shape since her father had told her that she would be doing this, actually getting up on stage and doing had been easier than she had thought. Once the music began to play, she could lose herself in it, and during the short interludes between songs, it had been easy to slip back into singing idol mode, affecting a genial rapport with the audience, appearing to soak up their acclaim as though she needed it. If any of them realised that she didn't really want to be here, she would be very surprised.

Weiss smiled. "This is nearly the end of my session," she said. Somebody booed, and Weiss said, "Oh, thank you." She touched her heart as if flattered. "But before I go, I want to give you something a little different. This last number is brand new; it's something that I wrote especially for tonight, and I would like to dedicate it to my dear friends Blake Belladonna and Twilight Sparkle, who are in the audience tonight." Weiss paused. "At least I hope they are, I can't actually see any of your faces because of these lights." That got a laugh out of the audience, as she had expected that it would. "Okay," Weiss said. "This last song is called: This Life is Mine." She raised her hand to the technician in the wings, and waited for the soft, airy notes of the music to begin to echo through the concert hall.

Weiss began to wail, a haunting sound as though she had suddenly been possessed by some dread spirit, as the music swelled around her.

"Mirror...can you hear me?"

Ciel's eyebrows climbed into high reaches of her forehead, hidden beneath her bangs, as she waited in the wings with Penny and listened to Weiss finish her last song.

"I will not surrender,

This life is mine!"

An interesting time to declare war on your father, Ciel thought, for the meaning of the lyrics seemed to her to be quite unmistakable. And yet, unusual as the action might have been, unwise as it perhaps was, Ciel could not restrain a certain degree of admiration for Miss Schnee's boldness: she had planted her flag, come what may. It now only remained to be seen what her father would do about it.

The audience appeared to grasp at least some of Ciel's own thoughts upon the matter; or perhaps it was simply the fact that they hadn't felt quite so much like outsiders as adolescents that 'Mirror, Mirror' seemed to be speaking directly into their souls and thus they had been left without an appreciation for Miss Schnee's more introspective works. Either way, the applause for Weiss Schnee's final number was tepid, more polite than enthusiastic, even - or perhaps especially - from Mister Schnee up in his box.

Miss Schnee acknowledged the applause without acknowledging how little of it there was or how lacking in enthusiasm. She bowed to the audience. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much. And now, the moment that you've all been waiting for, the hero of Atlas and of the Battle of Vale: Penny Polendina, the Dragonslayer."

More music began to play, a stirring patriotic march, began to play, amplified by the acoustics in the concert hall.

Ciel turned to Penny. "Good luck," she said.

Penny nodded. She looked a trifle nervous. "Restrained?" she asked.

Ciel shook her head. "That's for the party. Now you can be as exuberant as you like."

"Great!" Penny cried. She patted her hair, as if it might have gotten out of place while she wasn't looking, and then strode out onto the stage, waving enthusiastically to the audience with one hand.

As the applause rolled down upon her like a wave cascading upon the shoreline, Penny and Weiss met near the centre of the stage. Penny clasped Weiss' hands together warmly, and Weiss said something to her that Ciel couldn't hear or make out from her lips, before Weiss, her elegant gown flowing like water all around her, left the stage and joined Ciel in the wings.

"That was an interesting choice of final song," Ciel said softly.

Weiss looked at her. "Did you like it?" she asked in a whisper.

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I prefer your introspective work to your rebellion anthems," she admitted, "or indeed your more commercial offerings."

"You might be the only person who does," Weiss muttered.

Penny stood in the centre of the stage, under the spotlight just as Weiss had been. She waved one final time as the applause died down.

"Salutations!" she cried. "My name is Penny Polendina, and I am the Dragonslayer of Vale!" Her swords, which had been slung across her back, shot into the air above Penny's hand, and as she flourished with one hand, they formed a spinning circle in the air beside her, resembling the drill of swords with which she had burrowed so fatally through the dragon.

"Did she write this herself, or was it written in some PR department?" Weiss asked in a hushed voice.

"The latter," Ciel replied, equally softly.

"But I am here tonight," Penny continued, "to ask for your help!" She pointed out at the audience, her finger tracing a line in the air from one wall to the other. "The Kingdom of Atlas is asking for your help, and so are all my comrades in the military. Not everyone can kill a leviathan-class grimm, or become a huntsman, or serve in the military, but if you buy Defence Bonds, every lien you spend puts a bullet in a soldier's gun! And if you buy enough bonds, why, you could buy a paladin or even a new cruiser!

"I'm Penny Dragonslayer, and I'm doing all I can to keep Atlas safe, alongside thousands of comrades who are doing all they can to defend our kingdom too. Are you doing all you can for Atlas? Buy Defence Bonds, and you can be a hero of Atlas, just like me!

"Now, it might not be safe for me to show you what I can do in here, but there is a film we made earlier..."

Applejack and Rainbow Dash sat on the roof of the control room of Farm Station B-13, one of the many phoney farms that dotted the corridor of land between Atlas and Mantle.

Yes, Applejack knew that the land around these parts was otherwise too cold and hard to be farmed, but that still didn’t make it farming what they were doing in these places, what with them big glass domes and the artificial heat to keep the cold out and the artificial everything else too on account of nothing natural but a little cold sunlight could get in through the glass. It might be the only way to grow food out here, but that didn’t make it farming. Real farming, like they had down south, was about working with what you got, sun or rain; it was about feeling the earth like you were connected to it, treating it with love so that you could get something out of it. It wasn’t about using fancy science to change the way the world was so that it suited you a little better.

Even if it sometimes seemed like Atlas was all about changing the world to suit itself better, in every single way possible.

There were times when Applejack felt out of step with the kingdom she lived in. She might have been better off being born in Mistral, or one of those out of the way places they had in Vale.

But that would have meant that she would have missed out on her friends, and she wouldn’t give them up just because she wasn’t the biggest fan of too much technology getting in the way of the simpler things in life.

“Thanks for agreeing to do this mission with me,” Rainbow said, as steam rose from the cup of hot chocolate she’d just poured out of her pastel pink vacuum flask. “Guard duty can get pretty boring by yourself.”

“Anytime, partner,” Applejack replied. She might not like these farm stations all that much, but that didn’t mean they didn’t need looking after. Most of work was done by robots - if she shifted around, she could look down through the glass and see them right now, working away like honeybees - but there were a few folks in the control room down below making sure the robots did what they were supposed to do and keeping the temperature right and all that, and so there was a need to protect them in case any grimm showed up. “You want something to eat?” she asked, before taking a sip of her own hot chocolate.

“You brought snacks?”

“Apple fritters.”

“Oh, you’re the best,” Rainbow said, as Applejack reached out from underneath her winterweight poncho and shoved the plastic tub of fritters towards Rainbow Dash, who sat opposite her on the flat dark roof, where they both leaned against ventilation shafts rising up out of the ceiling. Rainbow grabbed one of the fritters in her hand and bit into it with a satisfying crunch. She grinned. “You know, some people say that the life of a huntress is rough. But here we are: a beautiful night, good food and good friends. Seems like an okay life to me.”

Applejack chuckled. Her rifle - One in a Thousand, and no, that was not a reference to the average number of times she hit the target, Rainbow Dash - was slung over her shoulder; it shifted slightly as Applejack grabbed her guitar and put it across her lap. “We even got music,” she said, strumming gently on the strings.

“I’m not sure how much the guys who are relying on us to stay alert would appreciate that,” Rainbow said. “But...yeah, this isn’t a bad life.”

“Nope.”

Rainbow finished off her fritter. “I...I really mean it, Applejack; thanks for coming out here. You didn’t have to after the way I acted.”

“It ain’t nothing,” Applejack said. “It’s all done with now.”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “Is it?”

“Sure it is,” Applejack said. “You said you were sorry; there ain’t nothing more to be said about it.”

Rainbow nodded. “All the same…”

“All the same, what?” Applejack asked.

“I can’t believe that you thought I was mad at you,” Rainbow said. “Seriously, why would you think I was mad at you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Applejack said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

One month earlier…

Applejack pushed her hat back on her head. “Well ain’t that a whole mess of worms in the apple barrel.”

“Mmhmm,” Rainbow growled, her arms folded across her chest. Her head was turned away, and she didn’t meet Applejack’s eyes.

“So that woman who had me and Fluttershy captured was working for the Queen of the Grimm this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered.

“And she’s trying to-”

“I just told you all of this, do you really have to repeat it back to me?” Rainbow snapped.

Present day…

“Maybe it was the way that you looked at me like I’d just shot Tank and squashed him under my boot, and darn near bit my head clean off, too,” Applejack said.

“Right,” Rainbow said, scratching the back of her head. “Sorry about that.”

“You had stuff going on,” Applejack said. “I’m just glad that you weren’t actually mad at me.”

“Nah,” Rainbow said. “The General should have picked you from the start. You should have led the team, and I should have gone with Fluttershy.”

“General Ironwood has his reasons,” Applejack said. “I ain’t gonna call him wrong about you leading a team any more than I’m about to call him wrong for keeping most folks in the dark about...this whole thing. The General’s always had a soft spot for you, and I can see why; nobody I’d rather have by my side neither.” She paused. “I never meant to take your place. I’d never do that to you.”

“And I’d never blame you if you did; you’re like my sister.”

“Oh, no,” Applejack said. “I got enough trouble with the little sister that I got without taking responsibility for you, too.”

“Why am I the little sister?”

Applejack looked at her.

“Okay, sure, you’d totally be the big sister,” Rainbow muttered. “So what do you think, about...all this? I was too...much of a jerk to really ask you that before.”

Applejack said nothing for a moment, her fingers gently strumming the strings on her guitar. “It’s one heck of a thing,” she admitted, “but...I guess I never was one to believe in no miracle to make the grimm go away, and now, I know I was right about that. They ain’t never gonna be gone. They’re like weeds or worms; they just keep coming back, but they can be kept away so long as we keep keepin’ ‘em away.”

“And the rest?” Rainbow asked. “Maidens, magic, relics?”

Applejack sighed. “I don’t deny the world has got a mite more complicated. Or at least more complicated than I thought it was. I can see why the General and the others keep all of this stuff to themselves.” At least, since they’d started keeping it to themselves, she could see why they didn’t stop; it was a lot to ask anybody to take in all at once, and she could see that not everybody would take it all that well. She could even see that not everybody would take it in a way that worked best for everybody. Applejack tried to see the good in this world, but that didn’t mean she didn’t see the bad, too. That Cinder woman who had them captured - she was supposed to be all better now, or something, but that wasn’t going to stop Applejack knocking a few of her teeth clean out for threatening Fluttershy that way if she ever saw her again - was proof that some folks were best off not knowing how much power they could get hold of if they went looking for it. “Since you never told me, I’m guessing you don’t know who the Maidens are?”

“No,” Rainbow said. “I don’t even know who the Fall Maiden is right now. Hopefully it isn’t Cinder, but...yeah, I don’t know their names.”

“I guess we’ll be told if we need to be told,” Applejack said. “Until then...the relics are locked up - except for the one that the enemy got and we can’t get back on account of the whole can’t kill her thing - the maidens got the magic, and if we need to have anything to do with that...the song remains the same, I guess, is what I’m trying to say.” She strummed her guitar again for additional emphasis. “We do our jobs, protect our homes...make sure there’s a home left for someone else to take care of once we’re through.”

“Except our enemy has the relic that lets them make all the right moves,” Rainbow murmured.

“This ain’t chess,” Applejack said. “Which is good, seeing as how neither of us can play worth a damn. But she can know the right moves and she can make the right moves, too; it doesn’t mean we got to roll over and die when she makes that move. She can know what to do all she likes; she doesn’t know how hard we can hit back when she does it.”

Rainbow grinned. “Well, we did give her a taste already, but...yeah, I’ve got no problem giving her another.”

The two of them looked up, their eyes drawn inexorably towards the broken moon that shone so brightly all the stars around were drowned out by its radiance.

“We can win this, right?” Rainbow said. “I mean maybe we can’t win win, but we can hold this ground, right?”

“We can,” Applejack declared. “On account of we got so much ridin’ on us that we can’t afford to lose.”

“So we won’t,” Rainbow said.

“Nope,” Applejack agreed. “We won’t.”

The ballroom was filled with the elite of the Kingdom of Atlas.

Or at least it was filled with its wealthiest and most prestigious citizens; Weiss wasn't sure that she would characterise most of these people as the elite, although many of them thought of themselves in that way, but as she stood in the ballroom, she wondered how much actual virtue there was amongst this moneyed company. They filled the ballroom in their gowns and suits, their jewels and chokers, the pearls and diamonds that adorned the wrists and neck of every lady. It was enough to make Weiss glance awkwardly down at the sapphire bracelet dangling from her wrist.

I am not like them.

I won't become like them.

She was standing beside Whitley, both of them standing silently behind their father, still and silent, standing there like dolls while he talked to a group of high-to-mid-level functionaries, people of the sort that Weiss would not normally have expected her father to associate with. Her father had not actually introduced them to either Weiss or Whitley - nor had he introduced his children to his guests; perhaps he simply expected them to be known to all concerned - but she was pretty certain that one of them was Principal Cinch, the woman who had been meeting with her father when Weiss had come back from her session with Rarity. The principal was a woman of late middle age, with hair in various shades of purple and pink, and sharp eyes behind a pair of half-moon spectacles. She put Weiss in mind of an older, possibly disappointed Professor Goodwitch, her face beginning to bear the lines of years. Weiss had less idea of who the flamboyantly dressed man with the goatee and high-collared cape or the slightly plump blue-haired woman were, but from what they said to her father she got the impression that they were all high level functionaries of one sort or another; not the sort of people she would have expected her father to associate.

A combat school principal? Really? What business could you possibly have with her, father?

Principal Cinch looked at Weiss over her father’s shoulder. She stared at her. Weiss looked away, but not before catching a glimpse of the older woman’s eyes; it was as though she could sense Weiss’ curiosity.

Principal Cinch coughed into hand. “Mister Schnee, perhaps these matters, sensitive as they are, are best discussed with a little more privacy.”

“Hmm?” Jacques looked over his shoulder, as if he were only now noticing the presence of his children for the first time. “Ah…yes, I see your point. Children, go amuse yourselves for a little while. I have urgent business to discuss.”

Whitely smiled slightly as he bowed, one hand tucked behind his back. “Of course, Father. Ladies, sir.”

Weiss spread her flowing gown out upon either side of her. “Sir, madams.”

The gentlemen in the scarlet cape inclined his head towards her. “Miss Weiss.”

The blue-haired woman said, “We must talk later, Miss Schnee. My son has told me so much about you.”

Weiss stopped. “Your son?”

“Later, Weiss,” Jacques said sharply. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Of course,” Weiss said. “I’m sorry, Father.”

She curtsied for a second time and backed away a few steps before she turned around and started walking forwards before, in backing, she tripped over the hem of a dress that looked wonderful but was perhaps not the most practical thing in the world to wear.

She looked for her friends, but amidst the press of Atlesian high society in all their glittering finery – not to mention the serving staff who made their way assiduously amongst them, serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres while sometimes being berated by the guests for whatever they had done wrong – it was hard to make out anybody specifically. She couldn’t even see Whitley any more, and he’d only been gone for a moment.

As she looked, Weiss’ steps carried her towards the back of the ballroom, where a series of works of art for silent auction sat behind a red velvet rope. They were all in a patriotic style, intended to stir the blood and raise enthusiasm for all things Atlas and its military: a portrait of Penny, seeming to float in the air, her swords forming a ring around her; Atlesian cruisers soaring above the clouds in perfect formation; mighty Paladins striding forth. All very inspiring if you liked that sort of thing, but at the same time, Weiss couldn’t help but feel that they were touched with loss: the ships that soared with such precision had been torn to pieces, the paladins that trod so heavily upon the ground were now reduced to bolts and armour fragments. Only the Dragonslayer herself had come through the battle unscathed.

The central painting was definitely touched with loss, and unlike the other works, it was probably intentional. It was a painting of Beacon, the intact tower rising up towards the top of the frame, with Atlesian warships hovering in the sky at or near level with the tower’s tip, each ship facing a different direction as though they were floating sentinels set to guard the tower. But Weiss’ gaze was drawn down from those lofty heights to the grounds of the academy itself, which had been painted in such a way as to seem as though it was full of ghosts.

The courtyard was alive with people, but rather than paint any specific figures – Weiss could not see herself here, nor Flash, nor Cardin, nor Blake, nor anyone else – or even generic stand ins to represent the students, the artist had drawn mere coloured silhouettes in the shape of men and women, silhouettes that perhaps she could have identified had they been a little larger and she had time. Some were white, some were green, and some were blue. White for Atlas, blue for Mistral, green for Vale; the ghosts of three kingdoms haunted this representation of Beacon. Realising that made Weiss look again at some of the combinations of colours; there were two white Atlesians, one male and one female, in company with two green Valish men; was that supposed to be Team WSTW, or was she just imagining things, clutching at straws? And what about the Atlesian, Mistralian and Valish girl with the Valish boy over there?

I’m almost certainly reading too much into it.

But I’m also almost certain that reading into it is precisely the point of this painting.

Nobody can see themselves in this work...but at the same time everybody can.

The only figures who were not silhouettes where the Atlesian knights scattered around the perimeter…only they were not drawn accurately either; rather, android heads had been painted onto the bodies of true knights of old, clad in archaic armour and wielding long lances with the Atlesian flag upon their pennants.

“That’s a weird thing, isn’t it?”

Weiss’ attention was drawn towards a young man with blue hair, all combed over across one side of his face, who had snuck up on her while she was distracted. He was wearing a black waistcoat bedecked with silver over a salmon-coloured shirt. Rings of silver sat heavily upon his fingers.

She glanced at him for a moment, before returning her attention to the painting. “I like it,” she replied. “It reminds me of…happier times.”

The blue-haired boy was silent for a moment. “I guess it does have a certain charm about it.” He smiled sheepishly. “You two are a match in that.”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “Has that line ever worked on anyone?”

“Not yet, but I believe in learning from my mistakes,” the boy said. “And besides, it has broken the ice, hasn’t it?”

Weiss exhaled loudly. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.”

He held out his hand to her. “I’m Henry…Marigold.”

Weiss sighed as she held out a pale and languid hand to him. “Weiss Schnee.”

“I know, I saw your performance,” Henry said, as he took Weiss’ hand and held it for a moment. “You were wonderful, and I promise I’m not just saying that because you’re pretty.”

“Honestly, sir, I thought you ought to take a hint,” Blake said, as she and Twilight walked out of the crowd towards the pair. “I think she’s made it pretty clear that she’s not interested.”

“Blake!” Weiss cried, whirling to face her friend. “You came!”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Blake replied. “Did you have doubts?”

“No, I…” Weiss trailed off for a moment as she took in Blake’s dress. The Princess of Menagerie was gowned in shimmering black velvet, sewn with diamond dust so that it glittered like the stars in the night sky, while a silver white sash was tied around her waist in a loose, slightly sloping fashion, the ends trailing a little down her hip. Slightly puffy capped shoulders left her arms bare, but only until her long white gloves began. A slit down one side of her cocktail dress exposed her leg as she walked. A white choker enfolded her throat, just standing out against her fair skin. “You look amazing.”

The corner of Blake’s lip twitched upwards. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” Weiss said. “And thank you, Twilight, for introducing us both to the best dressmaker in Atlas that nobody knows about.”

“I’ll have to remember to tell Rarity you said that; she’ll probably stick it in the window,” Twilight said. “That was a great show, Weiss, absolutely amazing.”

“Although I’m slightly questioning whether or not you want us around,” Blake said with an undercurrent of amusement in her voice.

“Excuse me?” Weiss said. “I dedicated a song to the two of you.”

“A song that was all about telling someone to get out of your life and stop trying to control you,” Blake pointed out.

Weiss scoffed. “That wasn’t about either of you,” she declared. “Are you really going to leave me alone again with-“ she turned around, but Henry Marigold was gone. He had sloped off somewhere while Weiss was distracted. “Huh. I guess he could take a hint.” She returned her attention to her friends. “I’m so glad you liked the performance, Twilight. And what about you, Blake?”

“Apart from my confusion over your message,” Blake said, a slight smile playing across her face. “You have a great voice.”

“I suppose I do,” Weiss murmured. “If only that was the end of it.”

“You mean as long as you didn’t have to go through this party?” Blake suggested.

Weiss gestured at the guests in the ballroom. “These are supposed to be the elite of our kingdom, if you can believe that.”

Blake was silent for a moment, her golden eyes scanning the crowd. “The elite of this kingdom is found amongst its armies,” she said. “Not here.”

Weiss’ eyebrows rose. “Do you hear the Atlesian anthem playing in your head when you say things like that?”

“What?” Blake demanded, the dash of shock that Weiss had said such a thing mingling with the greater portion of offence at what it might imply, or perhaps she really did hear the anthem and didn’t see what was wrong with doing so.

“I’m just saying,” Weiss replied. “Since you came here, you’ve become more Atlesian than the Atlesians.” She smirked. “It’s actually quite adorable.”

Blake snorted. “Perhaps I have to be more Atlesian than the Atlesians, seeing as I’m not one.”

“I suppose,” Weiss murmured. “But that doesn’t mean that you have to go around saying things like that.”

“Like what? That there are better people wearing an Atlesian uniform than there are in this room?” Blake asked. “Is that something so controversial that it has to be debated?”

“Perhaps not controversial,” Twilight said, “but possibly not something that should be said too loudly while you are actually in this room.”

Blake looked at her. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I know how to keep my thoughts to myself…although I have gotten a little out of practice lately.”

It must be nice to be able to speak your mind, Weiss thought. She fussed with the bracelet on her wrist, turning it this way and that. "Twilight's right," she said softly. "Even if you're right - and I can believe it - probably best not to say so. These people really do like to think of themselves as the best of Atlas, even if they're not."

"Some of them might be," Blake allowed. "I probably shouldn't judge them all based on one party."

"Were you judging?" Twilight asked. "Or were you just praising the people you know better?"

Blake was silent for a moment. "Maybe a little of both." She tucked some stray hairs behind her human ear. "So, any thoughts on how the fundraising is going?"

"I wouldn't get your hopes up too high," Weiss said. "The richest people in Atlas didn't get that way by spending their money to help good causes."

Blake's eyebrows rose. "You caution me to watch what I say, and then you come out with something like that?"

"I can say what I like; I'm Jacques Schnee's daughter," Weiss declared, although in her opinion, she wasn't saying it particularly loudly. "Although I suppose most of them will contribute something; patriotism is still somewhat fashionable at the moment, and no one wants to be left behind by the pack." She turned back to look at the painting of Beacon and all its ghosts. "You know...I think I might buy this."

Blake and Twilight joined her in front of the painting.

"Really?" Blake asked, scepticism evident in her voice.

"You don't like it?" Weiss said.

"I can see what it's trying to do, I think," Blake conceded. "But...no." She paused. "Although I have a tree made out of guns in my dorm room, so who am I to criticise your taste in art?"

Weiss frowned. "A tree made of guns?"

"It's a symbol of peace," said Blake, in a dryly serious tone.

"I see," Weiss murmured, even though she didn’t really.

"Do you really want to look at this all the time?" Twilight inquired. "I mean...doesn't it make you sad. This...this is how it should have been, all the kingdoms-"

"Can we briefly pause to observe the fact that Vacuo is nowhere to be seen?" Blake pointed out. "If Sun were here, he'd probably be very offended." She paused. "Actually, he probably wouldn't, but he'd have the right to be."

"Well, no offence to Sun Wukong," said Weiss, "but the fact is that, even before your mother signed that treaty, Menagerie was more of a real country in many ways that Vacuo." She smiled. "I'm sorry, Twilight, you were saying?"

"It's okay," Twilight said. She pushed her glasses back up her nose. "But...this is how it should have been: all the students coming together under the protection of Atlas, but doesn't that just make you sad that the reality ended up being quite different?"

"Not that different," Blake suggested. "The city and the kingdom were protected, even if the school wasn't."

"You really are getting extra money from the PR department, aren't you?" Weiss asked seriously.

"No, I-" Blake stopped when she saw the smile on Weiss' face. She pouted ever so slightly - it was adorable - and shook her head.

"So, are you going to buy the painting?" asked Twilight.

Weiss looked at the price. It was pricey, but by the time her father saw the bill for her credit card it would be too late; he wouldn't risk the embarrassment of trying to get his money back from the military and the ensuing negative PR. "I think I will," she said. "It's for a good cause, after all. And I'll have gotten something out of this party." She sighed, leaning against one of the metal poles holding up the red rope. "When is this going to be over?"

"I'm not sure," said a voice that was familiar, one which she hadn't heard in too long. "But I'm glad that it's not over just yet."

Weiss turned around. Standing in front of her, having just emerged out of the press of party guests, was Flash Sentry.

"Flash?" Weiss murmured.

He grinned nervously. "Hey."

"Flash!" Weiss cried, crossing the short space between them in a dash, her gown billowing out around her, as she leapt up to wrap her arms around him. "I've missed you."

She felt him put his arms around her, holding her close. "It's great to see you, too," he murmured. He held her for a moment, their cheeks - their whole bodies - pressed against one another, before he gently lowered her back down to the ground. Two pairs of blue eyes stared into one another.

"We'll leave you to it," Twilight said, an unabashed smile playing across her face. "Come on, Blake; let's see if we can find Penny."

"Sure," Blake said, as she allowed Twilight to lead her away. She too was smiling, although she was being a lot more subtle about it than Twilight.

Weiss didn't really care. They could think what they liked. Seeing him again, after so long - or what had felt like so long - now here was a blue-haired boy whose company she had no objection too. "I had no idea you were coming," she said softly.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Flash said. "Surprise!"

Weiss snorted and giggled at the same time.

"That was the first time I'd ever heard you sing," Flash said. "You were beautiful out there."

Weiss felt a slight flush rising to her cheeks. "Thank you," she said. She frowned. "You'd never heard me sing before?"

Flash laughed nervously. "I was, um, I was kind of a rock snob when I was younger," he admitted, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "If you couldn't play a guitar solo you weren't a real artist, that kind of thing."

"You were an idiot, you mean."

Flash laughed even louder. "Yeah, I guess you could put it like that. And then...it didn't feel right to listen to your records while we were on the same team together. It felt...weird, you know?"

"I...I think I do, yeah," Weiss replied. She paused, and in that pause she finally noticed what it was that Flash was wearing: a crisp, white Atlesian uniform, with a touch of gold brocade hanging down his right shoulder, and silver facings on his collar and his cuffs. "Are you-?"

"Would you mind if we got some air?" Flash asked, before she could finish her question.

Weiss nodded. "Sure." She slipped her hand into his as they turned towards the great glass bay doors that led out of the ballroom and onto the balcony beyond. Flash looked down at her hand in his, then looked back up to her and smiled.

Weiss smiled back as she lifted up her gown with her free hand and the two of them walked together through the guests and the waiting staff, opening up one of the glass doors and stepping outside into the chill night air.

"Is that better?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah," Flash said. "But...aren't you cold out here?"

"Only a little," Weiss said. "I have my aura."

"All the same," Flash said, and he took off his white jacket and draped it like a cape around her pale, slender shoulders.

Weiss' lips twitched upwards. "Thank you," she whispered, as she hopped up onto the white balcony rail, holding his jacket around her. "So...I'm not sure that I know where to start. It's been-"

"Months," Flash said. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about that."

"You don't need to apologise," Weiss said. "Although...I wouldn't mind knowing where you've been."

Flash leaned upon the rail. "Getting my prosthetic," he said. "Rehab. And then...then I needed to decide where I was going to go from there. What I was going to do, now that Beacon's gone and everything is...so different. I went back to Canterlot for a little bit to clear my head." He smiled wryly. "I fought with my mom a lot."

Weiss snorted. "What about?"

"She never liked the idea of me becoming a huntsman," Flash admitted. "I, on the other hand, didn't really want to join the military. I wanted to do the right thing the way I saw it, not the way some general saw it. After I got back, Mom wanted me to take a job in the government, or maybe study law like she did." He paused. "So we compromised: I've become a huntsman but in the military, and she made sure that I got an assignment where I won't lose any more limbs. Which is why you're looking at Lieutenant Flash Sentry of the Council Guard."

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "You're in the Guard?"

"Like I said, my mom wanted me to be safe," Flash said.

Weiss chuckled. "Well, I for one thought you looked very dashing, in the brief moment before you so gallantly gave me your jacket."

"And you look beautiful," Flash said. "With or without the jacket."

They stared into one another's eyes. Weiss...she had missed him so much, but how could she ignore the fact that under his pants leg there was a prosthetic where once a real leg had been and that was all her fault? She'd been a terrible leader, and because of that Flash had lost a leg. It was incredible that he still wanted to talk to her after that, and there was no way that he would feel...no, he couldn't. Could he?

She didn't know what to say.

She didn't know how to say it.

Flash scratched the back of his head. “Did you…get the bouquet that I sent you?”

Weiss blinked. “You didn’t…was that you? The bouquet of roses without a note?”

“Surprise,” Flash repeated. “Again.”

Weiss giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “Yes,” she said. “I got your mysterious bouquet of flowers. It was very sweet of you…although you could have attached a note.”

“I wasn’t sure what to say,” Flash admitted. “A part of me…a part of me was worried that I’d left it too late to say anything.”

“That isn’t true,” Weiss said. “At least…I hope it isn’t true.”

Flash stared into her eyes. “I think…I think it’s only true if we both think it is.”

“But we don’t,” Weiss replied. So why is it so hard to know what to say to you?

But then there was no need to say anything because he was kissing her.

At first she was surprised, her eyes widening as his tongue touched hers. But then...then she let herself go with it, closing her eyes and melting into his embrace as he put his arms around her, pulled her towards him, lifting her off the balcony and pressing her body against his. Her arms were around his shoulders, pawing at them; she could feel one hand of his running through her ponytail. His jacket fell to the floor at their feet.

When he stopped Weiss was flushed and breathless. "Took you long enough," she whispered.

“Was it worth the wait?” Flash asked, his tone mingling humour and anxiety in almost equal measure.

The only response from Weiss was a bright smile that slowly spread across her face until it made her blue eyes shine brightly as a summer sky.

This time it was her who initiated the kiss, putting her hands on his face, running her delicate fingers through his hair as he put his hands upon her shoulders. It was...she’d been waiting for this; she didn’t realise just how long she’d been waiting for this but she had. She’d been waiting for this since...since the Vytal Festival? Since second semester? Since he’d asked her out and she’d told him ‘not yet’ because telling him ‘no’ would have been a lie?

It didn’t really matter. However long she’d waited for this, the wait was over now. It was here.

They lingered out there on the balcony for a few minutes, neither of them wishing to - or willing to - go back inside; neither of them wanting to rejoin the crowd within the ballroom. Though a great crowd thronged just a few feet away, upon this balcony in the chill night air it felt as though they were within their own little world, cut off entirely from the rest of Remnant, as if fairies had spirited them away to some secluded bower where none would find them.

And neither of them wanted to rejoin the real world. Not yet.

And yet their awareness of that world pressed down upon them nevertheless.

“So,” Flash muttered. “Are we going to tell your father that we’re going out.” He stopped. “We are going out, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to take me out?”

“Yes,” Flash said, a little more loudly than necessary. “I mean, if you’d like to...go out for dinner sometime, or something.”

Weiss smiled. “I’d love to.”

Flash grinned. “So...are we going to tell your father?”

“I’d rather-”

"Ahem."

Weiss realised with a growing sense of mortified dread that her father was watching both of them, standing in the doorway that they had just used to get out onto the balcony. His look was frigid, and Weiss felt the flush of her kiss freeze under the wintry chill of her father's gaze.

"Father," she murmured.

Flash also looked as terrified as the situation warranted, and his hand trembled as he held it out. His voice shook too as he said, "Flash Sentry, sir. It's an honour to meet you."

Jacques gazed at Flash's hand as though it were covered in dirt from the mines, but after half a moment, his expression softened. His tone, when he spoke, verged on genial. "Ah, so you're Silver's boy. Your mother and I have become quite good friends, and she's told me so much about you." He took Flash's hand. "I would have preferred it if you'd asked first, but don't worry. I was once a young man myself, after all." He gave a leering sort of laugh that Weiss could not help but find incredibly creepy.

"Uh, thank you, sir," Flash said, sounding as confused as Weiss felt by her father's reaction.

"All the same," Jacques said. "Probably best if you both come inside. Now."

"Of course, Father," Weiss said softly, gathered up the folds of her skirt as she followed him back into the ballroom. Flash, having picked up his jacket off the balcony floor, gave her a look that seemed to be asking what was going on, to which Weiss could only hope that he took her own look that he had no more idea than she did.

The blue-haired woman with whom her father had been speaking earlier approached. "Flash! I've been looking for you."

"I found him with my daughter," Jacques said.

The woman's eyes widened. "Mister Schnee, I apologise-"

"Please, Silver, there's no need to react that way," Jacques said breezily. "Boys will be boys, after all, and, from what you've told me, your son is a fine young man, now that he's put his youthful foolishness behind him and decided to settle down to a life here in Atlas. Perhaps he can teach my daughter to do the same." He chuckled. "Frankly, I wouldn't have thought Weiss had the good judgement to choose someone so suitable."

"Is this your mother?" Weiss hissed,

Flash nodded. "Weiss, allow me to introduce my mother, Silver Sentry, Law Officer to the Council. Mom, this is Weiss Schnee...my..." he trailed off, probably because they hadn't had a chance to talk about what that kiss meant before all of this.

"His girlfriend," Weiss finished for him, holding out one pale hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Sentry. Your son is a wonderful young man."

"And so taken with you, Miss Schnee," Silver Sentry said, taking Weiss' hand for a moment. "I must say, the gulf between you and that traitorous faunus hussy he was last involved with is unbridgeable. I'm glad that you've finally started making good choices in your life, Flash."

"Thanks, Mom," Flash muttered, not sounding very grateful in the least.

"Your father is a great man, Miss Schnee; I hope you realise that," Silver Sentry said. "He is going to change our Kingdom, and for the better."

"All with the help of my good friends," Jacques said.

Why are you acting like this, Father? Weiss wanted to ask. Just what in Atlas is going on here?

“Weiss, stand over here,” Jacques commanded, gesturing to a place just beside him and to his right. “Now that I’ve found you the time is right, I think; and Whitley- Whitley!” he snapped his fingers at his son, summoning him away from Diamond Tiara. “Stand beside me, to my left.” Only when his children were in their proper positions, posed behind him like puppets or dolls, did their father raise his voice to attract the attention of all his guests throughout the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen, your attention for a moment if I may.”

Ciel cut nimbly through the crowd to return to the side of Penny, handing her a flute glass filled with light brown drinking chocolate. "Here," Ciel said. "Your drinking chocolate."

"Thank you," Penny said, plucking the flute glass from Ciel's grasp. She frowned as she placed her fingertips upon it. "Shouldn't it be hot?"

"Not this particular kind; it's served cold, like gazpacho soup," Ciel explained.

"Oh," Penny said. "Okay then." She drained about half the glass in one go. "It is quite nice."

"It is supposed to be sipped," Ciel informed her in a tone of gentle reproach. "Although it still amazes me that you can drink anything at all."

"It was always my father's intent that I would be able to pass for human," Penny declared. "But there wasn’t time to complete that non-critical functionality before we left for Vale. Even though everyone knows what I am now, Moondancer still gave me the upgrade like they’d originally planned. So although I don't need nutrients to survive, I can consume them. My tongue has simulated taste buds on it, and my lower torso contains a processing unit in which waste is stored before being-"

"Yes, thank you, Penny, that's enough for now," Ciel said quickly. "Some things are not appropriate conversation for the dinner table, or the party for that matter; although I do admit it is my fault for having brought the subject up. Ahem. In any case, how are you enjoying the party so far?"

"It's okay," Penny said. "Restraint can be a little...boring."

"Yet it is no less necessary for that," Ciel reminded her. She hesitated. It was rather ridiculous that she was even considering asking Penny about this, but at the same time, who else could she really ask? Who else would even want to listen. "Penny," she said softly, "may I ask you a frivolous question?"

"Frivolous questions are some of the best ones," Penny answered. "Ask away."

"Do you..." Ciel trailed off momentarily. "Should I...do you think I should grow my hair out?"

"Huh?"

"You know," Ciel said, patting her hair lightly one hand. "Let it grow a little longer before cutting it."

Penny blinked; her eyes moved up and down Ciel's body as though she were scanning the other girl. "How long were you thinking?"

"I'm not quite sure yet," Ciel admitted. "As long as Twilight, possibly."

"Do you want hair as long as Twilight?" inquired Penny.

"Not particularly," Ciel said, "but I would not wear it long; rather...it might allow me to style it in more interesting ways: pinned back, in a bun, perhaps a chignon."

Penny stroked her chin and placed her other hand upon her hip as she assumed a knowing look, or at least an approximation thereof. "Is this for Lieutenant Thunderlane?" she asked.

"Thunderlane has not mentioned my hair," Ciel declared proudly. Certainly, she would not tolerate being dictated to in matters of appearance upon a first date. She could stand a doughnut shop, but she could not have stood commentary on how she could improve her appearance. "However, I do wonder if he might prefer...something a little more interesting that would, nevertheless, not compromise operational effectiveness."

"Hmm," Penny mused. "I can't see it, but then that's probably because you don't have long hair. Can you imagine me with long hair?"

Ciel considered it for a moment. "No," she conceded.

"And yet I've been thinking about it too," Penny said, with one finger in the air. "Do you think I could pull it off?"

"Possibly," Ciel acknowledged. "If accompanied by a general maturation of style."

"Hey, girls," Twilight said, emerging from out of the milling press of guests with Blake in tow. "What's up?"

"Ciel and I were just talking about doing our hair and cute boys," Penny said enthusiastically.

"Really?" Blake asked, with an undercurrent of amusement in her voice.

"We were not talking about doing our hair and cute boys," Ciel said, with a degree of asperity in her tone. "We were talking about doing our hair and handsome men."

"That is a big difference," Blake agreed in a completely earnest tone of voice. "Although there is something to be said for older boys, if you understand my meaning."

"You think there's something to be said for immaturity?" Ciel asked.

"It has its charms," Blake replied.

“Referring, I presume, to that Sun Wukong fellow who tried to stowaway on board the Valiant before the fleet sailed for home?” Ciel asked, her tone becoming somewhat arch.

A flush of colour appeared on Blake’s pale cheeks. “I...you certainly can’t fault his earnestness.”

"Which do you think Flash is?" asked Twilight. "Boy or man?"

"I wouldn't presume to know him well enough to say," Blake said.

"Who are we talking about now?" inquired Penny.

"Flash Sentry, Weiss' boyfriend."

"Weiss has a boyfriend?" Penny asked.

"He's not actually her boyfriend," Blake replied.

"If he isn't yet, he will be by the end of the night," Twilight declared.

"That sounds fascinating," Penny said. "I wonder where they are." She started to stand on her tiptoes to see over the crowded ballroom.

"Penny, down," Ciel commanded. "The state of affairs between Miss Schnee and Mister Sentry are none of our concern. How are the two of you enjoying the party so far?"

"It was fine," Blake said. "Until someone decided that it was amusing that I feel proud to wear this...okay, I'm not wearing this uniform right now, but you know what I mean."

"Hey! That was Weiss, not me," Twilight said.

"Whichever of them it was did you wrong, Blake," Ciel said. "There is much honour in wearing this uniform which we are only metaphorically wearing at this precise moment; to wear it is to wear the honour of Atlas itself, to be custodian of it but also to be cloaked by it in turn; and there is honour too in the path that you have chosen, for all that I imagine it must seem a lonely one at times."

"It's weird how you two are becoming so alike when you've barely exchanged three words with one another," Twilight murmured.

"Because we are both members of a band of brothers," Ciel said.

“Since we barely know any boys, shouldn’t it be a band of sisters?” Penny asked.

“That doesn’t have the alliteration,” Ciel explained.

“A sorority of sisters?” Twilight suggested.

“That just makes us sound like nothing more than school friends,” Ciel said.

“Which you are, when it comes down to it, aren’t you?” asked a new and unfamiliar voice to the conversation. “And even if you weren’t, as a proud Shadowbolt, I feel obliged to ask if you think there’s anything wrong with that?”

All eyes turned to the figure who had stolen upon them so swiftly and with such stealth. She was a girl of average height, or perhaps a little shorter, with white hair tinted with just a hint of blue, worn in two large ponytails descending on either side of her shoulders, and thick-rimmed square glasses covering her purple eyes. She was wearing a crisp white dress uniform, with a dark bow tie around her neck.

“Sugarcoat,” Twilight said, without all that much enthusiasm. “You found me.”

“Of course,” Sugarcoat said. “If you want to avoid me, try not to make so much noise.”

“I wasn’t trying to avoid you,” Twilight said, with a hint of guilt in her voice. “I’m just not sure that I need close protection at an event like this.”

“Oh, so this is one of your bodyguards,” Blake said. Of course, General Ironwood mentioned Sugarcoat in the room. She held out one hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m-”

“Specialist Junior Grade Blake Belladonna,” Sugarcoat cut her off with a monotone that sounded like a slightly raspier version of Ciel’s voice and a flat stare to match. “So-called Warrior Princess of Menagerie.” Her expression didn’t alter as she added. “An impressive nickname for someone who spent the Battle of Vale hiding in a hole.”

Blake’s hand fell to her side. “Excuse me?”

“Was anything that I said untrue?” Sugarcoat asked.

“It would be just as accurate, and more courteous, to say that Specialist Belladonna was assisting in the protection of Councillor Cadenza,” Ciel replied. “Or would you like to have it said of you that you hid during some battle while you were doing your duty safeguarding Twilight?”

“They can say that if they like; that will also be true,” Sugarcoat acknowledged.

Twilight cringed. “Listen...Sugarcoat...I know that you’re here to protect me and everything, but...could you please try and be...a little less aggressively you?”

Sugarcoat stared at her flatly for a moment. “No,” she said. She switched her attention back to Blake. “So, Belladonna, what do you think of Atlas so far?”

“Well, the company isn’t always brilliant,” Blake said pointedly, “but overall, I like it here. I like it a lot.”

“Of course you do,” Sugarcoat said. “You’ve bought into the mirage, like so many people here.”

“Mirage?” Blake repeated.

“My semblance allows me to pinpoint the exact weakness of anything,” Sugarcoat declared in a seeming non-sequitur. “In combat I use it to know exactly where to shoot my target to shatter it.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed, and Ciel confessed that she was struggling somewhat to see the relevance of the abrupt change of subject. “That’s a useful semblance,” Blake murmured.

“You don’t understand,” Sugarcoat said, a hint of impatience entering her voice. “The weakness of anything. This kingdom, this society, this way of life.”

“Atlas has no weaknesses,” Ciel declared.

Sugarcoat snorted. “Do you believe that, or do you think that spouting slogans will protect you?”

“I think that we’ll protect each other,” Penny answered in a defensively perky tone, “and make up for one another’s weaknesses so that it’s just like we don’t have any.”

Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “You’ve been spending far too much time with ex-Canterlot alumni.”

“If I’m wrong, then why didn’t you just shoot the dragon dead?” Penny asked, her tone guileless. “Since you could see its weakness with your semblance?”

Sugarcoat looked confounded by that, and somewhat put out by the fact of her confounding. “The...the opportunity didn’t present itself,” she said defensively. She cleared her throat. “The fact remains that this whole kingdom is a mass of breaking points: fracture lines between the military and the people, the people and the civil elite, the civil elite and the military; any one of a number of fault lines could be leveraged to fracture this kingdom.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Ciel said. “The existence of a small number of malcontents like Robyn Hill does not equate to the kind of existential threat that you describe.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” Blake said firmly. “And the idea that your semblance, valuable though it is, makes you some kind of social expert or prophet is ridiculous.”

“So we had best hope,” declared an older woman who cut through the crowd towards them, a woman with tightly styled hair in a variety of purple shades. “As I often found myself saying when subject to Sugarcoat’s infamously bleak analyses during her time as one of my students,” she added, a genial smile upon her angular face. She placed one hand on Sugarcoat’s shoulders. “And yet, she was one of my best situation analysts, weren’t you?”

Sugarcoat’s back straightened with pride. “Yes, ma’am.”

“However, I think you may have worried your fellow officers enough for one night,” the other woman said. “And Miss Sparkle is quite correct; this isn’t a situation that requires close protection.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sugarcoat said, before she retreated a little into the crowd.

“I apologise,” the older woman said. “When I taught her, I encouraged her to say what was on her mind. Perhaps I should have taught her to recognize when not to.” She smiled once again. “Allow me to introduce myself: Abacus Cinch, Principal of Crystal Preparatory Combat Academy.”

Traditionally, instructors - especially principals - in the Combat Academies were commissioned officers, even if they were on the reserve list, and so Blake, Ciel and Penny all simultaneously came to attention.

“Specialist Junior Grade Blake Belladonna.”

“Specialist Junior Grade Ciel Soleil.”

“Specialist Junior Grade Penny Polendina.”

“As you were. I’m here as a guest, not a principal or brigadier general,” Principal Cinch said genially. “You are all quite well known. I would have had to be far less observant of the world outside my office window than I am not to be aware of who you are, and you, Miss Sparkle. It’s an honour to meet the hero of Vale, the Dragonslayer herself.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Penny said brightly, “but I’m not the only person who was a hero at Vale.”

“Perhaps not, but you are the greatest of them, and the only one to become a national hero,” Principal Cinch amended, “and you, Specialist Belladonna, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Uh, thank you, ma’am,” Blake murmured. “Although I’m not entirely sure why?”

“Why not?” Principal Cinch replied. “Your record speaks for itself. So much so that I can’t help but wish that I’d been able to get you into my combat school. I can hardly imagine what you would have become by now with the benefit of a Crystal Prep education.”

“I might have found the cramming period easier,” Blake admitted, referring to the accelerated program's crash course covering academic material that was normally covered over three years compressed into a couple of months. Dust theory, Atlesian history, grimm studies, and military tactics... it had felt like it had been physically and forcefully crammed into her skull, studying until it felt like her eyes were bleeding. Of course, for Blake, it had actually been worse, with even more material to cover in the same time frame, since she had been starting even further behind her fellow accelerated students, as her pre-Beacon education was best described as "erratic." She had taught herself what she could, but a love of reading and her mother’s best intentions couldn’t always make up for the scarcity of books in the average White Fang encampment, even in the peaceful days of her parents’ leadership. But she had gotten through it, with perseverance and some excellent tutoring and more than a few caffeine-fueled all-nighters, she had gotten through it and passed, no extensions, no waivers, no special treatment. “But...with all due respect, Principal, I had a friend who spent some time at Crystal Prep. She...was not entirely complementary about it.”

“Indeed?” Principal Cinch replied, her tone conveying very little. “Alas, not every child is prepared to put in the kind of hard work and dedication that my school requires. Unlike some combat schools, I don’t believe in coddling my students or in substituting platitudes for preparation.”

“Hard work wasn’t my friend’s issue,” Blake said. “Ma’am.”

Principal Cinch smiled thinly. “Of course, you’re talking about Ilia Amitola, aren’t you? Forgive me for not making the connection immediately, given your...background. I suppose I should be gracious enough to congratulate you on making one of my former students flee the field - with the caveat that she dropped out before completing her time with us. A pity. She was terribly gifted. Interesting, is it not: one of my most talented students and you, one of Atlas’ most talented huntsmen, both-”

“Faunus?” Blake suggested.

“I was going to say not really Atlesian,” Principal Cinch said. “You were born in Menagerie, and Ilia’s subsequent actions make it clear that she never considered herself a part of this kingdom. It makes you wonder if Sugarcoat might have a point, if there isn’t something broken in the heart of Atlas.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I think that’s backwards,” Penny said. “The fact that people like Blake want to come to Atlas - as well as all the great people already from Atlas - shows that this is a great kingdom, doesn’t it?”

Principal Cinch appeared amused to hear it. “Perhaps,” she said, without sounding much convinced by it. “We can only hope that it is so, and hope to take the necessary corrective measures if it is not so. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Specialist Belladonna, we will watch your future career with great interest,” she added, before she turned away and disappeared into the crowd.

“What was all that about?” Penny asked. “It was...weird.”

“Crystal Prep can be a little...abrasive,” Twilight explained sheepishly.

“And worse than that,” Blake muttered.

“You know them?” Twilight asked.

“By reputation,” Blake answered. “My...old friend Ilia used to attend there...before she joined the White Fang.”

“She joined the White Fang because she didn’t like combat school?” gasped Penny.

Blake smiled just a little. “No, I don’t think even she would say Crystal Prep was that bad, but in trying to fit in with the students there...she started down a dark path, and I’m afraid it made her the kind of person who wouldn’t balk at joining the White Fang and doing all the things they asked of her.”

Penny frowned. “I’ve never heard someone talk about Atlas the way that other girl did.”

“There is a good reason for that,” Ciel said in a prim tone. “That girl was talking nonsense. The strength of Atlas is unassailable because the strength of Atlas is ourselves. So long as we continue to stand strong alongside our-” - the corners of her lips twitched upwards - “-our sorority of sisters, then the kingdom will stand strong upon the backs of our sacrifice.”

“Exactly,” Blake agreed. “This kingdom isn’t perfect, but nowhere is, and I know that the qualities that drew me here - the qualities that I saw in Rosepetal, in General Ironwood: the loyalty, the strength, the courage - they’re real, and they’re what make Atlas great. And I won’t be told otherwise by some girl I just met who thinks her semblance tells her so much more than it actually does.”

"And here we go again,” Twilight said, with a slight sigh. “It’s not that... there's nothing really wrong with you saying things like that; it's just a little...excessive, at times. You don't need to prove how much you love Atlas, to us or anyone else."

"I'm not...I suppose I am, a little," Blake admitted, "but I really do think that I'm a part of something pretty amazing. But...if it's really bothering everyone, I will try and tone it down a little."

"It does not bother me at all," Ciel observed. She glanced at Twilight. “You never complained about my love of our kingdom; or that of Rainbow Dash, for that matter.”

“I’m not complaining,” Twilight insisted. “I wasn’t even the one who first brought it up, I...okay, with you...you’ve always been like this ever since we met. It’s just who you are. And Rainbow Dash...I know that she loves Atlas but she doesn’t talk about it so much as she just lives it, and besides I’ve known Rainbow for years and I’ve gotten used to the way she is. But with Blake...it’s just the fact that you weren’t like this when we first met, it feels like such a big change in the time that we’ve known each other.”

“But Ciel’s changed, too,” Penny said. “She told me that she wasn’t born acting this way.”

“No?” Blake asked.

“We all change from the time we are born,” Ciel said, stating the obvious. “But, Penny is correct; I...adjusted myself to my circumstances and desires.”

“You became more than those around you, who never had any need to be as much but who would note any way in which you were less,” Blake murmured. “You changed to give them nothing to use against you.”

The two of them stared into one another’s eyes, the Atlesian commoner and the foreign princess, both of them outsiders in the halls of northern kings. Ciel curtsied. “Indeed,” she murmured. “Twilight, if you commit some faux-pas then your councillor sister-in-law laughs and says that that’s just Twilight, and everyone agrees how charming you are, how genuine; if Blake or I were to do the same thing then they would say ‘well, this is what comes of giving foreigners or Mantle rats a seat at our table’.”

"Hmm," Twilight murmured, sounding a little uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. "So, anyway, circling back around a few minutes: what were you thinking about doing with your hair, Ciel?"

"We were both thinking about growing it longer," Penny declared.

Blake's brow furrowed. "Can you grow your hair?"

"Not technically, but I can always get new hair instead of what I have now," Penny explained.

"Interesting that you're both thinking of lengthening," Blake said, as she ran a hand through her own already long raven locks. "I was thinking that perhaps I should cut mine."

Ciel's eyes narrowed. "I don't see the need for that in your case, although it might not hurt to run a comb through it once in a while."

Blake chuckled. "It is a little bit wild, isn't it?"

"Please don't say anything like 'it needs to be disciplined'," Twilight begged.

"Alright," Blake said. "I won't." She paused for a moment. "Weiss doesn't think that very much money will be raised here tonight."

"She was afraid it wouldn't be," Twilight clarified.

"Why not?" Penny asked.

"Because being wealthy does not, in and of itself, make you generous," Ciel said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention for a moment if I may," the voice of Jacques Schnee rose above the din, silencing all other conversation in the ballroom. "On behalf of my entire family, I would like to thank you so much for joining us on this occasion to celebrate our gallant forces. We all respect the sacrifices made by our soldiers to keep us safe.”

“Here, here,” Ciel said softly, expecting that he would finish with that, or perhaps offer a toast to the troops, the Kingdom, the General, or all three.

At most, she expected that he would announce a sizable purchase of defence bonds. She did not expect him to keep on talking at length.

Unfortunately, carry on talking is exactly what he did. “But respecting the soldiers and all they give in the cause of this kingdom is not the same as agreeing wholeheartedly with the ways in which our troops are used.”

Ciel frowned, and she was not the only one. Twilight was starting to look suspicious, and Blake had turned away in disgust; doubtless, she thought – and probably rightly – that this had something to do with the Menagerie treaty.

At this place? At this hour? You choose now, of all times, to bring this up? Can you not air your political disagreement at a more respectful time? Can we not celebrate the sacrifices and achievements of our troops without dragging politics into this?

“For too long I, like many of you here in this room, have watched as our national interests were sacrificed upon the altar of international cooperation, our armies squandered in the service of other kingdoms, our wealth given away to outsiders with no claim upon it. Our taxes go to fatten up grimm in foreign lands,” Jacques declared.

Ciel growled wordlessly, baring her teeth a little in a most unladylike display because how dare he? How dare he? To dismiss all the empty spaces who had filled the parade ground as having merely fattened up the grimm? To speak so of those who had given their lives for Vale? The jewels of Atlas deserved better by far than to be spoken of so by the likes of Jacques Schnee, a man who for all his accomplishments had never once demonstrated valour in the field.

There was an old Mantle proverb: Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier. It was clearly not true in the case of Jacques Schnee, but it might have been better if it were.

He continued, as if he hadn’t said enough already. “And we are here to generously give more money because our government is starving the military of the resources it needs to spend the money instead upon Menagerie.”

Blake scowled, and crossed her arms, still with her back to the head of the SDC.

“I, for one, cannot stand by and watch this gross mismanagement of our kingdom and its affairs continue any longer which is why, my friends, I hereby declare my candidacy for the vacant council seat."

For a moment, there was nothing in the ballroom but stunned silence. Then the applause began. It started slowly, from little pockets scattered about the ballroom from whence it spread outwards as more and more people took up the applause. It was never universal - General Ironwood looked astonished, and so did several other people who did not clap - but it spread throughout the ballroom, and as it spread, it rose in volume until it was a great wave falling upon the head of Jacques Schnee.

Ciel’s eyebrows rose even as did the applause, rising to a deluge from all the corners of the room. Meanwhile, Ciel and her friends and comrades stood in shock; Twilight and Blake looked as horrified as Ciel felt – probably as she looked as well – even as the enthusiasm from other quarters seemed to mock their disquiet.

Penny looked confused. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What does this mean?”

“I…am not certain, Penny,” Ciel murmured. “But I think it means little good.”

The Protectors of Mistral

The Protectors of Mistral

Four Months Earlier…

Jaune heard the door close behind as Pyrrha left the room. A part of him wondered why he hadn't gone with her. Okay, he knew why he hadn't gone with her: it was because Sunset had asked him to stay for a little longer. What he didn't get was why Sunset had asked him to stay. What did she have to say to him that she couldn't say in front of Pyrrha?

Sunset stood in front of him, swaying a little from side to side, looking unsteady on her feet. More unsteady than she'd looked a moment ago, as though she'd been trying to hold it in for Pyrrha. Just how much had that transfer taken out of her, and why? Why did giving away the power of the Fall Maiden look as though it had taken ten years off her life expectancy?

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I told you," Sunset said. "I'll recover. All of this is just..." she waved one hand in front of her. "It's a temporary side-effect of losing the magic. I'll be back to my old self soon."

"Will you?" Jaune asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Will you really?"

Sunset stared at him. "There are times I preferred it when you were dumb as a post, you know that?" she said. "I will recover...mostly."

"Then why do you look as though you’re about to turn to dust?"

Sunset laughed sarcastically. "Because magic transfer is the hardest thing that any unicorn can do; not the most complex thing, but it is the hardest. It's like...cutting off an arm or chewing your own foot off. That's probably why no Maiden ever gave away her powers like this before."

“Then why-”

“Because like you said it’s no good to me in here,” Sunset said. “Because she needs it. Because she deserves it. Because...it doesn’t matter now, what’s done is done and I didn’t ask you to hang around so that we could go over it again.”

“Okay,” Jaune said quietly. “Then what did you ask me to hang around here for?”

Sunset was silent for a moment, her chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply in and out. "You've got a good heart," she said. "I don't know if I've ever told you that."

"Thanks," Jaune said softly.

"And now I need you to put it away in a box," Sunset said. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

"Huh?" Jaune murmured, eyebrows rising into the cover of his fringe.

"I meant what I said to Pyrrha," Sunset said. "It's all up to her now. Professor Ozpin's dead, Ruby...Ruby's broken..." she stopped, a look of guilt crossing her weary face. She turned away from Jaune for a moment as she ran her hands through her hair that lacked its usual lustre. Her tail, too, was dimmer than normal as it spasmed back and forth in a motion that seemed almost involuntary. "And I'm in here," she added. "Atlas is going home, and who knows when or even if they'll be back; and when you two get to Mistral, you're going to find Lionheart's a traitor. You said it yourself; there's no one you can rely on. No one to cover for you, no one to trust, just you. Just her. She's the whole of it now; it all depends on Pyrrha. The world needs her...and she needs you."

"She's got me," Jaune said. "Until my last breath."

"I know," Sunset assured him, turning to face him once more. "But what kind of you? What kind of Jaune Arc does she have?" She approached him, closing the distance between them. "You've got a good heart, Jaune Arc, and a strong soul, but Pyrrha doesn't need a soul; she's already the soul of all of us, and she doesn't need a heart either, because she has one, a great one, maybe the best one. What she needs," Sunset added, as she tapped Jaune on the side of the temple with one finger, "is a head."

"You think I'm smarter than Pyrrha is?"

"I think you're more sensible than she is," Sunset corrected. "I meant what I said; Pyrrha has the heart of a hero, but how many heroes have been led to an early death by being over bold? You need to use your head to keep that heart alive, do you understand? Do you think you can do that for me?"

Jaune said nothing, not immediately. He...he couldn't deny knowing exactly what Sunset was talking about. Pyrrha took so many chances, so many risks; it was like she was congenitally - spiritually - unable to turn aside from a challenge, no matter how great it seemed. She had been willing to go along with destroying her soul - risking it at least - to prevent Cinder becoming the Fall Maiden; she had been willing to fight Amber and her allies with only Cinder for assistance; she had been willing to do whatever Professor Ozpin asked of her, no matter how dangerous, and now, she was going to be more alone than she had ever been with only Jaune for backup. That was why he had been glad when Sunset had given Pyrrha the powers of the Fall Maiden; that was why he wasn't going to tell Pyrrha what else Sunset had done. Yes, he understood what Sunset meant. And he understood what she wanted from him. "Yes," he said. "I'll do it."

Sunset sagged with relief. "Great," she said. "I knew that you'd get it. You know what a treasure she is...but you also know why she needs taking care of."

"I won't let anything happen to her," Jaune vowed.

"I know you won't, I trust you," Sunset said. She held out one hand. Jaune took it, and felt her grip surprisingly strong for how weak she looked. "Bon voyage, Jaune Arc," Sunset said. She grinned weakly. "And don't come back."

Present Day…
The bandits had swept down upon the village like a wolf on the fold, bringing fire and the sword, spreading terror before their coming as they brought malice with them.

And that terror and that malice had brought the grimm.

Neptune Vasilias stood in the middle of an empty grain silo, Tri-Hard whirling in his hands before he drove the polearm blade straight into the torso of a beowolf that tried to leap down upon him from the loft. As the creature turned to ashes, Neptune was already moving, his body twisting as he thrust his spear outward into the mouth of another beowolf that had tried to creep up on him in a more stealthy fashion.

A foot or two away, his partner, Sun, was twirling his gunchucks in his hands as he blasted away one, two, three, four shots and four dead beowolves without any of them getting anywhere near him.

Sun blew the smoke off one of his gunchucks as he shot dead the last of the beowolves. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Dude,” Neptune asked. “Who are you talking to?”

“That’s a great point,” Sun admitted.

Neptune tapped the communications device in his ear. “Jaune, we cleared out the grain silo, what now?”

“Great job, guys,” Jaune said, his voice crackling a little in Neptune’s ear. They’d done what they could to patch together communications, but it was an imperfect substitute for having the CCT network functioning, and it showed. “Now, it looks like the bandits in the farmhouse and the barn have finished off the grimm that were keeping them busy, so I’m going to need you two to split up and clear them both. Sun, you take the barn; Neptune, you’ve got the farmhouse.”

“You want us each to go off alone?” Neptune questioned.

“It’s not ideal, I know,” Jaune said. “But we’re thinly stretched; as soon as she’s done with her objective, I’ll have Ditzy head over and back you up.”

“What about reinforcements?”

“Team Prawn is inbound on its way to you now,” Jaune said. “Just hold tight; she’s on her way.”

“Good to hear,” Neptune said. “We could use the assist. I mean,” Neptune grinned, flashing his teeth in his best friend’s direction. “Not that we’re going to need help from Pyrrha or Ditzy, right? Because we’re really cool guys.”

“Absolutely, really cool,” Sun said. “And we’re going to take on all of this ourselves.”

“No doubt about it.”

Sun nodded, his muscular chest rising and falling with his breath. “Well…good luck out there, buddy.”

Neptune held out his hand. His teammate took it, pulling him forward until their chests thumped together with a solid, satisfying thwack.

“Now let’s go kick some ass!” Sun said.

They left the grain silo by the same door they’d used to enter it, dashing around the large cylinder that rose above the village. Neptune could see the farmhouse, sitting square and squat with its low sloping roof, separated from him by a stretch of open ground. The barn was a little further away.

“I’ll go first,” Neptune said. “Draw their fire away from you.”

“You sure about that, buddy?” Sun asked.

“Yeah,” Neptune said. “Definitely.” I wish.

But it was what a really cool guy would do.

Neptune ran out, Tri-Hard in rifle configuration raised to his shoulder as he emerged from out of the shadow of the grain silo. There was a bandit standing outside the farmhouse, looking pretty disinterested in the battle unfolding around the village as he smoked out on the grass, his rifle held loosely in one hand. Neptune fired a trio of shots, blue electric pulses bursting from his barrel to strike the bandit in the chest and knock him to the ground. Neptune quickened his pace. He could see someone moving at the window, and so he fired at it, shattering the glass and knocking a hole in the plaster wall just beside it.

Sun had started to run too, his tail shaking behind him as he dashed towards the barn, but it was toward Neptune that the bullets flew as dark and sinister shapes appeared at the farmhouse windows, their guns cracking as they let fly. Neptune thanked whatever gods were looking out for him as they all missed, bullet strikes making the earth leap all round him, and for a moment, he danced in an ungainly fashion, his legs seeming to spasm as he leapt to avoid the bandit fire.

Then he started firing back, spraying electric bolts from Tri-Hard across the house as Neptune found a cry bursting from his throat, a cry of anger and fear all mingled together as he charged straight towards the farmhouse, firing as he went, firing at every window, strafing his fire across the building to make those bandits keep their heads down as he charged for them.

He was leading a charmed life that day, as none of the bullets that the brigands dared to fire while he was shooting at them hit home; they whizzed past but did him no harm as he closed the distance, his legs surging to carry him across the bare and open grass towards the farm house. He leapt over a small wooden fence, trampling over a vegetable patch, shouting and firing all the while as he covered the last few feet and burst through the farmhouse door.

Half a dozen bandits were there, all of them greasy guys with unkempt stubble on their cheeks, wearing dirty clothes with bullet-laden bandoliers slung across their chests.

Neptune was still yelling as he started shooting, not spraying his fire so much now because his enemies were all nicely lined up for him, but he did hold down the trigger as he fired until they were all lying on the ground, all of them lined up facing the windows or lying beneath the windows, rifles and revolvers fallen from their hands to lie beside them.

It was a large room that served as a living room and a kitchen both, mostly bare, but there were a lot of kitchen utensils around the fireplace. There was also a wooden table, under which cowered a woman with her arms around two children, a boy and a girl, both clinging to their mom in turn, pressing their faces into her chest.

Neptune smiled, not the smile that made his teeth glint like a movie star but the smile that Sage said didn’t make him look like an insincere creep; Neptune personally didn’t think he ever looked insincere, but he wasn’t trying to charm this woman or her kids; he was trying to get them to trust him.

He was trying to convince them that everything was going to be okay.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” he said. He got down on his knees. “I’m with the Myrmidons, and I’m here to help. If you come with me, I can get you and your children to safety.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. She stared at him with eyes wide, fear and suspicion both present.

“Please,” Neptune said. He held out one hand to her. “Trust me.”

She hesitated, then nodded silently, as she handed him the smaller child, the girl.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Neptune said, as he took the girl in one arm, holding his rifle in his free hand. “Hold on tight; I’m going to get you someplace safe, okay? Jaune, I’ve got three civilians here.”

“Understood, get them to Yatsuhashi.”

“Right,” Neptune said. “Okay, follow me. If we get separated, run to the Mayor’s house.”

“The Mayor’s house?” she whispered.

“It’s where everyone is sheltering,” Neptune replied. He turned towards the door.

He heard the click of a gun behind him.

“Huh?” he was starting to look back when six shots slammed into his back, throwing him forwards onto the floor, pinning the girl underneath him. She started to scream in fear, her shrieking drowning out Neptune’s cry of pain as he felt his aura shatter under the impact of those shots.

Neptune groaned as he tried to get to his feet, only to feel a sharp kick in the side that rolled him over onto his back.

The woman he had taken to be the farmer, or perhaps the farmer’s wife, was now standing over him, holding a revolver she had plucked from one of her fallen comrades. She now wore a very vicious smirk. “Like they say,” she said. “A pretty face beats a dumb ass every time.”

She cocked her pistol, and aimed it between Neptune’s eyes.

There was a blur of motion; Neptune felt the air rush over him before the woman who had suckered him was hurled backwards into the wall.

And standing over Neptune and the crying girl was a girl with short blonde hair, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with fingerless gloves covering her hands.

She turned her head to face Neptune, although with her golden wall eyes it was hard to tell if she was exactly looking at him or not. She smiled, her wordless smile conveying everything that Neptune had tried to convey to the person who had just shot him in the back.

Ditzy Doo turned to face their enemy. “You don’t seem like a very nice person, Miss.”

The bandit woman didn’t deign to respond to that, she just raised her pistol and fired. Ditzy’s body contorted, twisting out of the way so that the shot passed harmlessly by and through the wall, then she began to move.

The bandit fired again and again, fanning the hammer with her free hand, but each time, Ditzy managed to be out of the path of the shot as though she could see it coming – maybe she could, maybe her semblance was some kind of super-reflex premonition kind of thing; it would explain how she was dodging those bullets – as she danced through the farmhouse, twisting and turning and contorting as she closed the distance with her enemy. The bandit woman snarled as she swung at Ditzy, using the stock of her rifle as a club, but Ditzy dodged that too, letting the heavy wooden stock pass harmlessly over her head before she buried her fist into the woman’s gut.

Ditzy moved like lightning, striking so fast that her enemy couldn’t react, striking so hard that she would have been unable to stand it even if she could react, her hands and feet a blur as she pummelled the bandit into submission and left her an aura-less, unconscious lump on the floor.

Then she walked back over to Neptune and once again put that sweet smile upon her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Neptune groaned as he picked himself up off the floor. “Lucky for me you got here when you did.”

Ditzy kept on smiling as she patted him on the shoulder. “Any time, friend.”

Neptune nodded. “Jaune, make that only two civilians, both children. And my aura’s gone.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Not at the moment, I’m not,” Neptune said.

“I understand,” Jaune said. “Get the children to safety and back up Yatsuhashi. Then Ditzy, you pair up with Sun.”

“Understood!” Ditzy cried cheerily.

This had been going on for months, practically since they arrived in Mistral with the fleet returning from Vale.

It had never gotten any easier for Jaune.

He was standing in the middle of the Nikos family stable; since Pyrrha’s folks didn’t keep horses any more – a bit of a pity – and since it was a large building and since, unlike the dojo, they didn’t need it for anything, it had been the ideal space to convert into a makeshift command centre for their enterprise. A pair of holoprojectors threw up images from the MARS brand aerial drone hovering over the battlefield – over the village which had become their battlefield.

This had been going on for months. Months of directing, months of standing here, months of watching from a great distance while his friends, while the woman who meant everything in the world to him, fought for their lives and for the people of Mistral. It had never gotten any easier.

It wasn’t getting easier for any of them. When they had started this, they’d intended to keep it up only until the hysteria in Mistral died down and, with it, the threat of the grimm abated.

Three months later, and there was no sign of that happening. Sure, the immediate sense of danger had pretty much subsided in Mistral proper now, thanks to Pyrrha, but there was enough worry in the rest of Mistral to make up for that and keep them busy, it seemed. Jaune was inclined to blame the bandits for that: they just kept on coming, like sharks scenting blood in the water – how many bandit tribes were there in Anima anyway? – and the fear they instilled in the outlying settlements was more than enough to keep the grimm coming back to those same settlements.

Plus, sky piracy was on the rise ever since the Atlesians pulled their fleets back to Solitas, and unlike bandits and grimm, there wasn’t even anything that Pyrrha or any of the rest of them could do about that.

So, yeah, three months in, and Mistral was a long way from safe and secure; Jaune hadn’t expected that the fighting would ever stop completely – he wasn’t an idiot – but he had thought that, after the excitement of the Battle of Vale and the immediate aftermath of the collapse of the CCT, things would settle back down into something close to normal. He had hoped that, anyway; he had hoped that they would be able to pick up the rest of what it meant to be huntsmen in something close to peace time. No such luck. Quite the opposite, in fact; it seemed like things were actually getting worse. The reason why Sun and Neptune and the rest of them in Leuctris were so thinly spread was because their group had had two callouts to contend with today; they’d had to split their forces between Leuctris and another grimm attack upon the village of Elis. That battle was done, thankfully, but most of the people they had there would have to stay there to make the village safe against another attack, with only Pyrrha and her closest companions rushing to Leuctris to reinforce Sun and the others.

Her closest battle companions. Which did not include him. Jaune folded his arms, and tried to keep the scowl off his face. He understood the logic behind it, especially if they were going to keep getting split between multiple fronts like this, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He didn’t like the fact that he didn’t have to armour up to do his part in their work for Mistral. He wasn’t wearing his armour right now, just his Pumpkin Pete hoodie and jeans. It would have felt pretentious to have put his armour on just to go stand in the command centre and give directions.

“Uiharu, take the drone up,” Jaune ordered.“Can you give me more of a bird’s eye view?”

“Right,” Uiharu acknowledged, and she pulled on the joystick that controlled the drone flying around Leuctris. Fortunately, there were no flying grimm around today to try and take a bite out of it – Pyrrha and her mother kept the exact state of their family finances to themselves, but he knew they couldn’t afford to keep buying more drones – and the bandits hadn’t noticed it either, so Uiharu was free to fly around the village and the surrounding area as she pleased without interference, provided she didn’t fly too low.

Jaune glanced away from the holographic feeds from the drone’s cameras for a moment to look at the little girl in her sailor fuku who sat beside him, working the drone. She was only fourteen years old, and…well, she was no Ruby, if you wanted to argue that years didn’t always equal maturity. He felt guilty sometimes about the way that they’d involved her in this, but…they did need a technical expert in house, and she wanted to help, and…they didn’t have a lot of other options. He told himself in consolation that it wasn’t as though they were sending her out into the field to fight; here in the heart of Mistral, she was as safe…

As safe as he was.

Uiharu brought the drone up higher into the sky, both cameras pointing downwards to give him a good panoramic view of the battlefield. It could have been better – particularly if they could have brought their entire force to bear – and it could have been a lot worse. The village had grown up around a crossroads, neatly dividing it into four quadrants, with outlying farms sitting slightly further away from the cluster of houses and the like. They were pretty much holding the southern half of the village: the villagers had retreated into the Mayor’s house at the rear of the settlement, guarded by Yatsuhashi Daichi. Medea Fleece, guarded by her partner Jason Ash, had used her semblance of spectral skeletons to push down main street and drive the bandits back as far as the crossroads proper, although they’d gotten stuck at that point because there were still a lot of bandits and a lot of grimm too, and Medea’s skeletons weren’t that great. The other two members of Team JAMM, Meleager and Atlanta, had cleared the south-west quadrant, while Arslan’s former team-mates Nadir and Bolin had done the same to the south-east. Team SSSN and Ditzy Doo, he had ordered to clear the outlying buildings of any grimm or bandits who might be trying to get around behind them.

Jaune could see Neptune and Ditzy emerging from the farmhouse with the two children now. It was a good thing he wasn’t injured or worse, but it was a wrench for Neptune of all people to have his aura break and be out of action like this. He was the closest thing they had to a sharpshooter on the battlefield, and with the outbuildings cleared, Jaune had planned to put him up on top of the grain silo as a marksman. He wasn’t an ideal choice for that role, but even if the entire force that Pyrrha had assembled under her command had been present in one place, there wouldn’t have been anyone who was ideal for that role. The truth was that – and the fact that this was going to sound incredibly hypocritical from a guy with a sword and shield didn’t make it any less true – their ranged options kind of sucked; it was as though there was a Haven policy against long-range weapons…actually, considering the importance of the Mistralian heroic tradition and the things that Cinder had had to say about Professor Lionheart, that might actually be true. Whatever the reason, the Haven students from whom Pyrrha had recruited her allies favoured close quarters combat or short-ranged firepower, and the tournament fighters were even worse equipped in respect of fighting from a distance. In the whole group, they had maybe six people who could shoot at any kind of range and only three of them were on the field at Leuctris. And one of those three had just lost his aura.

The bandits, on the other hand, were well-equipped with long-range firepower. Specifically, they had a pair of mortars set up on the high hill overlooking the village to the north, which they were using to lay down fire on the crossroads, which was one of the big reasons why the huntsmen hadn’t been able to push further north; so far, the fire was pretty inaccurate, but something would need to be done about them if they hoped to drive the bandits out.

Something would need to be done about the grimm too, but at the moment, Jaune was content to ignore them as long as they stayed in the half of the village that was controlled by the bandits. As short-handed as they were, the huntsmen had two advantages that were keeping them from being pushed back: one was that a lot of the brigands had already stopped fighting and started looting the parts of the village they had already taken, which had helped drained their attack of momentum; the other was that they were further distracted by the grimm trying to eat them, and Jaune wasn’t keen for that distraction to end before the battle did. Perhaps it wasn’t a very heroic impulse, perhaps it wasn’t a particularly huntsman thing to do, but these were thieves and murderers and the worst kind of scum in Anima, and if he had to throw them to the beowolves – no, it wasn’t even that bad; they’d thrown themselves to the beowolves; he just wasn’t going to rescue them – to make life a little safer and easier for his friends, then he’d do it. There were limits to his compassion, and these scum had reached it. He had ordered the grimm around the southern half of the village dealt with, but the north would be theirs until the bandits were gone.

“Jaune,” Sun said. “I’m in position with Jason, Medea, and Ditzy; what do you want us to do?”

“Hold position for now,” Jaune said. “I don’t think we’re ready to move forward yet, unless you disagree.” Jaune could see a lot from up top, but Sun was the guy on the ground, and if he thought they were in a much better position than it seemed to Jaune, then he – Jaune – wanted to hear it.

“No,” Sun said, agreeing with Jaune after all. “Not yet.”

“Okay. Sit tight then; Medea’s going to have to keep keeping them busy for a little longer. Aska, are you in position?”

“I have sight of the mortars,” the lightly-accented voice of Aska Koryu came over his earpiece. “Shall I engage?”

“Not yet,” Jaune said. “I don’t want to give them time to recover from the strike. Can you see how many reinforcements they still have?” The bandits must have had their camp in the woods to the north of the village, because more of them kept streaming out of said woods, and the denseness of the forest made it impossible to tell when that flood would end.

“Negative,” Aska replied. “I can’t see clearly.”

“Jaune,” the voice belonged to Sage Ayana. “Scarlet and I have cleared the outbuildings; it doesn’t look like there are any more grimm on the way.”

“Good,” Jaune said. “I need you to reinforce the centre and get ready to push up main street on a signal from me or Sun.” Rather than fight house to house for the remaining half of the village, Jaune planned to put the main thrust of his attack in the centre in the hope that with their centre split the two flanks would lose heart and coordination both, making them easier to drive backwards and out of the village. That was why he was waiting to send Aska in to take out the mortars; he wanted to achieve the maximum morale effect by attacking from the front and the rear simultaneously.

“Jaune,” Aska said. “We have a problem.”

He was about to ask what the problem was, but by that point he could see it himself on the cameras as a mech strode out of the cover of the trees.

“Uiharu, zoom in,” Jaune said. “I need a better look at that thing.”

“Uh, right!” Uiharu squeaked, and at her command the drone’s camera magnified the mech, even as Jaune’s field of vision across the battlefield as a whole narrowed considerably.

The mech rumbled out of the trees upon a pair of treads, its body seeming squat and oddly shaped, albeit with an impressive gun mounted upon the back. At first, it seemed less like a mech and more like a tank of some kind. But then it unfolded itself - rising to its full height, even as its treads folded away into its legs - to give Jaune a good look at what it really was. It was a gangly machine, tall and slender, although it broadened at the shoulders with a pair of armoured pauldrons shaped like shells; three-pointed claws hung from the end of its hands, and three claws too sat at the end of its feet. The front of the cockpit appeared to be made of glass, although Jaune wasn’t in a good position to see the pilot.

“How did bandits get something like that?” Uiharu squealed in disbelief.

“I don’t know, but I’ve got a couple of ideas,” Jaune growled. He was ninety-percent certain that he’d seen this thing advertised by MARS; it was called a Mantis, he thought. But that was for another time, not now. Right now, the problem was finding anyone who could stand up to that thing. “Pyrrha, where are you?”

“Five minutes out.”

“Good to hear; Ditzy, I’m going to need you to keep that monster busy until Pyrrha arrives.”

“Anything I can do to help!” Ditzy declared.

“Team Prawn, it’s going to be a hot landing when you get there.”

“What’s the situation?” Pyrrha demanded.

“A whole lot tougher than it was a second ago,” Jaune muttered.

The bandit mech strode down main street, accompanied by a mechanical stomping, clanking sound as its legs moved in an ungainly manner.

The mech advanced, and the bandits cheered.

Any grimm that got in its way were swatted aside with one contemptuous clawed hand. The skeletons of Medea’s semblance were scattered like chaff before it. None of the other huntsmen tried to oppose it. By Jaune’s order they held their fire, lest they draw the attention of the mechanical warrior upon themselves.

Also by Jaune’s order, one huntress did stand her ground before it, standing in the middle of the street with her fists clenched, unarmed and unarmoured, facing down the mech as it strode towards her.

If it had been anyone but Ditzy, Sun might have been worried.

The mortars that had been pounding the central crossroads had ceased to fire for a moment, so the village seemed quieter, almost more peaceful as the mech advanced, accompanied by the cheers of the bandits and their jeers for Ditzy. Sun watched, peering around the corner of a house as the mech stopped, staring down at the diminutive huntress before it.

Ditzy stared it down, a determined look upon her wall-eyed face.

The mech – and its pilot, half visible from behind the glass front of the cockpit – stared in silence for a moment. Then the mech swung back one lithe and three-clawed arm.

The arm swept down in a sideswipe motion. Ditzy leapt, letting the clawed arm pass beneath her, digging into the stone of the road and churning up the dirt beneath it. She landed nimbly on her feet. The mech turned, clanking as it moved its feet, and tried to bring its other arm straight down upon her as though it were swatting a fly. Ditzy let the blow fall so far before rolling aside, letting the claw too dig into the earth before she jumped upon the arm and started to run up it.

The mech frantically extracted its arm from the ground, both arms flailing wildly, but by then, Ditzy had already leapt, one fist cocked back to slam it straight into the transparent cockpit of the mech.

She did no visible damage. There was a heavy thump, followed by an echoing sound like the ringing of a gong, but neither window nor mech took any visible harm. Ditzy fell to the ground, landing on her feet but clutching at her hand.

“Ow,” she said.

The mech stepped back, and its pilot was probably aware that the cheering of his bandit comrades had acquired an impatient edge as they demanded the death of the ridiculous huntress.

The mech raised its clawed hands and came for her again.

And where was she during the Vytal Festival? Jaune wondered, not for the first time as he witnessed Ditzy Doo in action. It was true that she wasn’t doing a lot of damage to the Mantis, or any at all, but the fact that she wasn’t letting it come close to landing a hit on her either was pretty darn impressive in and of itself. She danced aside from its lunges, she leapt over its swiping strokes, she climbed onto its own limbs as if she was hoping to get it to hit itself – it didn’t, but that would have been nice – she made the pilot look like a complete incompetent as he flailed about trying to hit her while she dodged every blow as though it was nothing at all. It was true that she wasn’t exactly winning, but with Pyrrha and Nora getting closer every moment and it being in doubt whether any of their weapons would be able to put a scratch on a thing like that, just not losing was all that he required of her.

And she was doing that very well.

It was a pity that the CCT was down; well, it was a pity the network was down for a whole load of reasons, but in the here and now, Jaune regretted that he couldn’t call Rainbow Dash and ask her what the deal with her fellow Canterlot alumnus was.

But since he couldn’t find that out, he would settle for being grateful; they could use all the first-rate fighters they could get.

And she was doing a good job in keeping the bandits distracted too; their unease as the fight dragged on drew a few of the grimm their way, which was always a plus, while the ones who weren’t fending off grimm were wholly focussed upon the combat between the Mantis and the huntress.

Jaune allowed himself a faint smile as he watched Ditzy leap away from another heavy blow that left a hole in the ground where she had been standing. “Pyrrha, how far?”

“One minute,” Pyrrha replied.

“Just in time,” Jaune said. “Aska, go, take out the mortars!”

“Affirmative,” Aska acknowledged, before she broke cover and engaged the mortar crews and the bandits who had been guarding them. Jaune kept one camera on Ditzy’s fight with the Mantis, while with the other camera, he watched as Aska emerged from the cover of the trees, her sword ablaze, her black-clad form like a deathly shadow as she set upon her enemies, slicing through the bandits on her way to the mortar crews, causing such alarm and confusion amongst them that grimm turned away from the village to charge up the hill. Jaune could imagine the growls of the beowolves as they slavered; he could hear in his head the pounding of their tread, but Aska showed no fear of them – at least none that was visible from above – as she wreaked her havoc amongst the rear of the enemy, and cut down grimm and bandits just the same.

She was even more mysterious than Ditzy; like her, she was an Atlesian – an Atlesian ninja, which Jaune hadn’t known was a thing until now – but unlike Ditzy, she wasn’t even a Haven student or ex-student. Nobody knew her, nobody knew what she was doing in Mistral, but she was willing to fight, she was good at what she did, and they could use all the help they could get. Even if they weren’t about to take her into their confidence any time soon.

Jaune’s slight smile turned into a triumphant smirk as Pyrrha’s airship swooped down over the village.

A fusillade of pink grenades flew out of the airship’s hatch, their trails forming a heart shape as they soared through the air to strike the mech, the smoke from the explosions temporarily obscuring the oversized robot from view.

Team PRAN – pronounced prawn – leapt from the belly of the airship, landing in the middle of the street with Pyrrha in the lead and Arslan a step behind, Ren and Nora flanking them both.

“Perfect timing, guys,” Jaune said. “Ren, Nora, I need you to lead the assault on the right flank.”

“Got it!” Nora cried, switching Magnhild from grenade launcher to hammer as she took off in that direction, leaving Ren to follow behind her.

“Arslan, you take the left.”

“Okay,” Arslan said. “Have fun with the robot, P-money.” She winked at Pyrrha before she headed to the left flank.

“Pyrrha-“ Jaune began.

Pyrrha smiled, for all that Jaune couldn’t see it from so far away. “I think I can guess,” she murmured, as she started to run herself, straight up the street towards the mech.

She held out her hands; her gloves were black now, not brown, but against that, she wore gilded vambraces upon both arms now, making it easier to spot the black outline around her hands and arms as she stretched out her powers towards the mech that now emerged, a little shambling and the worse for wear, from the smoke of Nora’s grenades.

Ditzy waved to her. “You want to take it from here, Pyrrha?”

“That’s very kind of you to offer,” Pyrrha said as she seized the robot in the grip of her semblance and pulled.

The mech stopped. It strained against the power of magnetism. It tried to move in a manner which Pyrrha did not permit. It struggled in vain as its limbs were seized and splayed outwards like a doll seized from either side by a pair of selfish children, each determined to have it for their own.

And like that doll, its limbs began to tear apart.

The bandits groaned in horror as their mech, their pride and joy into which they'd sunk most of their ill-gotten lien, was torn into fragments by Pyrrha’s semblance, the shattered arms and severed legs landing with great thumps upon the ground, followed by the useless trunk which landed face first in the middle of the street, the cockpit window shattering on impact.

A stunned silence settled over the battlefield, broken only by the growling of the grimm.

“How’s your aura?” Jaune asked quietly into her ear.

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “I have enough,” she murmured. She slung Akoúo̱ from off her back onto her arm; she drew Miló and raised it above her head. “For Mistral!”

“For Mistral!” her comrades echoed as Pyrrha began to charge, dashing swiftly forwards into the midst of the enemy.

Pyrrha bounded over the wreckage of the mech that she had destroyed, not looking back but trusting that they would follow her as they had followed her these past two months.

If, indeed, it was Jaune's plan that they should follow her.

"Okay, this is the plan," she heard Jaune's voice in her ear, broadcasting to their entire force. "Team Sun, with Ditzy, Medea and Jason, go up the centre and support Pyrrha; Arslan, Ren, wait until Pyrrha's broken through the middle and cracked their line before you begin your assault. I'll let you know when. Once I give the word, push them outwards and to the flanks, into the maw of the grimm."

"Driving our enemies to get eaten by grimm? That's cold," Nora commented.

"Do you really think they don't deserve it?" Jaune replied.

"No," Ren said, his voice even colder than Jaune's tactics.

"Then wait for my word," Jaune said. "Pyrrha?"

"Yes, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked.

"Kick some ass."

Pyrrha smiled. "I'll do my best."

The bandits were slow to react. Dismayed by the destruction of their prized mech, they hesitated, their will faltering as Pyrrha charged towards them without any hesitation. Plus some of them looked drunk already, or else burdened with loot that they seemed reluctant to discard even to fight for their lives. And perhaps they knew who she was: Pyrrha Nikos, the champion of Mistral, running straight towards them, her boots pounding upon the cracked stones that lined the village road, the circlet bright upon her brow and her sword catching the sunlight. Some of them fled before her coming, but others - hard-faced, moustachioed men with bullet-laden bandoliers and broad-brimmed hats - raised their rifles and revolvers to take aim at her. Pyrrha raised Akoúo̱, covering her face with her shield as she felt the bullets ricochet off it, slam into it; she stopped, feeling the rounds biting at her aura.

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, an edge of anxiety in his voice. "Are you okay?"

Black wreathed her arms. "I'll be just fine!" Pyrrha said, as she flung her arms out on either side of her, unleashing a magnetic shockwave that swept down the road to strike the bandits, ripping their weapons from their hands as they were hurled backwards to land with clattering crashes down the road; some of the brigands themselves were knocked back too as Pyrrha's polarity caught the bullets in their bandoliers.

"I never doubted it for a second," Jaune said.

"It's very sweet that you care," Pyrrha replied, as she resumed her charge upon the now defenceless bandits. Even more of them turned to run from here, but then she was amongst them like a fox amongst the hen house, the brigands who had thought to make prey of a village now nothing more than squawking defenceless prey against her.

Despicable. To behave like this, to live by depredation against those weaker than you, to survive by taking the lives and property of others, would be low indeed, but to do so at such a time as this, when there was so much else to fear in the world and when Mistral and its people were so vulnerable...there could be no defence of this. No defence for it and no mercy shown to it either.

Hot anger made flames spark from the tips of Pyrrha's fingers; she fought to suppress it, not because these vermin didn't deserve a taste of the Fall Maiden's power, but because she did not want to fail Professor Ozpin's trust by breaking the taboo of secrecy that he had established; arguably she had gone too far in that regard already. Pyrrha pushed that thought to one side; what was done was done, and she needed her head in the game; the moment she underestimated her opponents was the day they would make her pay for it.

She struck out with her sword, knocking one man down and out, cutting down another as he tried to flee, and spinning on her heel to strike twice with the rim of her shield one bandit who had tried to come at her from behind. She saw a man with a rifle trying to take aim at her from across the melee, but Pyrrha threw her shield at him, knocking him off his feet; without her shield, she converted Miló into rifle form and snapped off two shots to down another bandit who had recovered his pistols. She converted Miló into a spear, twirling it in hand to take down first one bandit and then another. The grimm were coming now, drawn by the fear of the brigands, the big Mistralian beowolves - they were larger here than the ones in Vale, and they moved primarily on four legs rather than two; Pyrrha wished that she had spent enough time in Grimm Studies class to understand why that was - closing in upon the melee from all sides. One of them leapt above the combat to descend upon her, claws outstretched. Pyrrha threw Miló - still a spear - to impale the grimm through the chest and bear it backwards ere it began to turn to ash. Unarmed, she ducked beneath the clumsy swing of a particularly large man and grabbed him by the belt to hurl him into the press of his fellows, toppling them beneath his impact. Another bandit aimed a pistol at her from close range, but the lightest touch of her semblance was enough to ruin his aim before she grabbed him by the wrist, twisted the pistol from his hands, and cast him to the ground beneath her. Pyrrha's hands were veneered with black as she summoned Miló and Akoúo̱ back to her arm and outstretched grip respectively, turning on her toe to decapitate a beowolf that came too close.

Her comrades had joined the battle now, and all the bandits were fleeing, pursued by grimm even as the huntsmen turned their attention to those same grimm.

"Ren, Arslan," Jaune said. "Move in, drive them from the flanks!"

Four Months earlier…

Jaune sat down on a crate, looking out over the docks. He could see a ship taking on passengers, and… was that Blake down there with her mom? Perhaps it was a ship bound for Menagerie, or her mother was getting off somewhere along the way for a different ship. If it was Blake and her mother down there. It was too far away to be sure.

“So,” Kendal said, as she sat down beside him. “You’re going to Mistral?”

“Yeah.”

“With Pyrrha?”

Jaune nodded. “Yeah,” he repeated. “With Pyrrha.” He hesitated. “What do you think they’ll say back home when they find out about that?”

Kendal smiled. “Mom will fret, and so will most everyone else, but Dad will understand, and he’ll make everyone else understand too.” She chuckled. “Mind you, if you’d gone without me getting here in time to see you, then I’m not sure that you could have ever come home again and gotten out alive.”

Jaune snorted. “I don’t know how easy it was for you to get here, but...I’m glad you came. I’m glad...I’m glad I got the chance to say goodbye to someone.”

Kendal put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad I got to see you before you flew away to the other side of the world,” she said. “Will you do us all a favour?”

“What?”

“Write to Saphron and Terra,” Kendal said. “I don’t know if letters are going to get to Anima, but once you’re in Mistral, you should be able to get a message to Argus.”

Jaune nodded. “Sure I will. What do you want me to say?”

“Say whatever you want to say,” Kendal instructed him. “Just give them our love, tell them that we’re thinking about them. And Adrian.”

“Of course,” Jaune replied. “And Adrian.”

“And take care of yourself out in the east, okay?” Kendal said. “You and Pyrrha...you need to take care of one another.”

“I don’t think Pyrrha needs-”

“I’m serious, Jaune,” Kendal said sharply. “Which reminds me, I’ve got something for you.” She fished around in the pockets of her green jacket. “Mom wanted me to give you this,” she added, as she pulled a ring out of her pocket, an ancient band of gold set with a sapphire.

Jaune looked at it. “Mom wanted me to have this?” He grinned. “I mean, I’m not sure that I want to start wearing-”

Kendal gave him a playful punch to the arm. “It’s not for you to wear, genius. It’s for you to give to Pyrrha.”

Jaune blinked. “Give to Pyrrha...as in-”

“Yes,” Kendal said, as she placed the ring in his open palm, and pressed his fingers closed about it. “Exactly like that.”

Jaune stared down at his hand, now closed around the ring that he could feel within. “Kendal, how do I know if I’m ready for that?”

“Maybe you’re not,” Kendal admitted. “Maybe nobody’s ready. Maybe the world doesn’t give us time to be ready. Listen, I’m not Mom or Dad, I don’t know what makes a great marriage, and I can’t tell you; all I know is that if you care about her, then you have to grab the moment, not hang around worrying or wondering or playing coy about how you really feel. Trust me: if you love her, and you don’t make her yours, and...and gods forbid it, but something happens, then you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. That’s why you have to take care of one another, and that’s why you have to give her the ring, while there is still time.”

Present...

“They’re so awesome!” Uiharu cried delightedly.

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, they really are, aren’t they?”

The battle was halfway to won by now, at least. Already, the bandits were turning to flee, some of them even casting aside their weapons as they ran. All that was left was to mop up the grimm.

And he was almost unnecessary for that.

But he tried anyway, coming up with a plan that used Medea’s semblance as an anvil against which the twin hammers of Pyrrha leading from one flank and Nora leading from the other could surround and crush the grimm between them.

The ones that hadn’t decided to pursue the fleeing bandits rather than stay and fight the huntsmen. Jaune had little – none at all, to be honest – sympathy for the brigands. They had chosen this life, and they could take the consequences.

He was happy with a day that ended with two settlements saved and none of his friends killed or even seriously wounded.

That was a good day, and he would take it gladly.

“Great job out there, everyone,” he said. “Great job today, Uiharu.”

“Thanks, Jaune,” Uiharu said brightly. “Although I don’t really deserve to get mentioned in the same breath as Pyrrha and Arslan and the others. All I do is fly the drones.”

“All you do is give me eyes,” Jaune said. “I couldn’t do this without your help.” He grinned. “And who knows, maybe one day we’ll come against some technologically savvy bandits, and we’ll need the rest of your computer skills.”

Uiharu giggled. “That…probably wouldn’t be great news, actually.”

“Probably not,” Jaune agreed. “We’re better off facing bad guys we can beat into submission. But all the same: great work today.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better.”

“And I’m not,” Jaune said. “The reason why Pyrrha – and all the rest of them too – do this, go out there and fight, is because they understand that not everyone can. But that doesn’t mean that they’re the only ones who are doing anything. If I can’t see what’s going on out there, I can’t give directions; I can’t see if you don’t fly the drones.”

“So in a way, you’re saying I’m the most essential person there is?” Uiharu suggested.

Jaune snorted. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Uiharu laughed briefly, until her stomach started to rumble audibly.

“You’re not so essential that you can’t take a break,” Jaune said. “Put the drone into a holding pattern and go get something to eat.”

“Thank you!” Uiharu said, sounding almost as excited about lunch as she had about their victory as she leapt off her chair. She ran towards the door, stopping in the doorway itself, framed by the light coming in from outside. “You know, you were pretty great today too, Jaune.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jaune’s lip. “Thanks.”

Once she was gone, he switched over to the private channel that only Pyrrha could hear. “You were amazing out there.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You say that after every battle.”

“Because it’s always true,” Jaune said, sitting down in the chair recently vacated by Uiharu.

“Or you think that flattery is the way to my heart.”

“Maybe a little of that too,” Jaune said. “How long do you think it will take you to set up the defences around Leuctris?”

“A few hours at least,” Pyrrha replied. “Plus the repairs that are the least we can stick around for.”

“Pyrrha, I think you already went past ‘the least you could do’ when you saved the village.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean we should just walk away once the battle is over,” Pyrrha said. “How are things at Elis?”

“Quiet,” Jaune said. “I’ll get in touch with Violet for a status update if you like.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Pyrrha said gently. “Jaune?”

“Yeah?”

“You really should take your own advice.”

“My own advice?”

“I heard what you said to Uiharu,” Pyrrha said. “I think everyone did, and it was a nice thing to say to her…but she’s not the only one who needs to hear that, is she?”

Jaune leaned back in his stolen chair. “You know me too well, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha laughed again. “Given the circumstances, I’d better, don’t you think?”

Jaune laughed too, albeit slightly nervously as he reached into his pocket and felt the ring burning a hole in it. No, I can’t propose over the radio while she’s on the battlefield.

I can’t propose at all; that’s my problem.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess that’s a good thing.” He sighed. “But I didn’t go to Beacon to give orders over the comm from the safety of your home.”

“I didn’t go to Beacon to become the Fall Maiden,” Pyrrha pointed out, her voice very soft to avoid being overheard. “Or to have the defence of Mistral placed upon my shoulders.”

“Um…” Jaune hesitated for a moment. “Destiny?”

Pyrrha was silent on the other end of the line. “I suppose…mmm. Now you know me too well.”

“Given the circumstances…”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha replied. “I’m very glad of it usually…except when you catch me out like this.” She sighed. “My point is that I know you didn’t ask for this. And while I asked for something like this, I never asked for it to come just like this or come so soon. I wish that there were others who could take this burden on. I wish that we had time to live as we wished, to grow at our own pace; I wish that you had time to grow into the huntsman that you wished to be; I wish that I had time to be the girl that I wanted to be. There are times I wish these burdens had never come to us…but that is not for us to decide. Professor Ozpin chose us both to bear the burdens of the world upon our shoulders; he took us into his confidence, shared the truth with us. He did us honour by that, and if we have to make some sacrifices to be worthy of that honour, then…I think we have to bear that.”

Jaune nodded, belatedly realising that she couldn’t see him on the other end of the line. “Sacrifice. You talk as if this is a real hardship.”

“I would never suggest that it wasn’t,” Pyrrha told him.

“But if you did, you might be right,” Jaune said. “I know that this is important – I sure hope it is, anyway – and I know that I’m doing more here than I could do in the field, but…you’re right, what does it matter if I feel like a coward, so long as the kingdom is protected?”

“You are not a coward, Jaune,” Pyrrha said firmly. “There is…it is true that those who give commands from the rear lines are not remembered in song or story so well as those who fought on the front lines, but the place is no less honourable or important nonetheless. The greatest of my ancestors is neither of the warriors for whom I am named, but rather the Empress Xanthe who, from her palace and her place hedged about with guards, created the Mistralian hegemony over central Anima.”

“Do you really believe that she is the greatest of them?” Jaune said.

“She is not the one that I admire most,” Pyrrha admitted. “But she achieved more than any other, and that is not nothing. Though this isn’t what you want, I ask you to bear it and to bear it proudly.”

“I can’t promise pride,” Jaune said. “But I’ll bear it, for your sake.” He paused. “Enough about me and my non-problems. How are you holding up?”

“We have won two more victories,” Pyrrha said. “I have nothing to complain of.”

“Pyrrha,” Jaune said.

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “But not here. Not where someone might hear me. We’ll talk more when I come back.”

“Sure,” Jaune said, just a little disappointed. He put some amusement into his voice regardless. “You know, I think a part of the reason I hate this is I’m jealous that Arslan gets to spend more time with you than I do.”

Pyrrha’s laughter was like the babbling of a stream. “I am tempted to tell her that you said that. Just to see the look on her face.”

“Take a picture,” Jaune said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said. “My general.”

“If you start calling me that more often, I could get used to it.”

He could hear her fond exasperation on the other end of the line. “I have to go.”

“Stay safe,” he said. “Come back.” Because that was what he feared most, that was what he disliked most about this: the fear that he might have to watch through some camera from a great distance away as Pyrrha was cut down in the midst of her valour and her glory; and no matter how skilled she was, no matter that Sunset had passed the mantle of the Fall Maiden onto her, no matter how many bold blades lay hedged around her, he could not rid himself of that fear, and it…it was why he didn’t think that he would ever like doing this, no matter how worthy or honourable a role it was.

Sacrifices, like she said.

Which was a very nice way of telling me to pull my head out and get on with it.

Sunset sacrificed her freedom for the cause and let them put her in chains; Ruby sacrificed her sister’s life and has to live with that for the rest of hers; compared to that, Pyrrha and I are both getting off easy, and me even more than her.

A pair of shadows fell across the stable command centre; Uiharu was back, carrying a boxed lunch and an expensive – and delicious – looking slice of cake. She was accompanied by Lady Nikos, leaning upon her walking cane.

“Young Miss Uiharu tells me that another great victory has been won by Mistral’s finest,” Lady Nikos said, her eyes fixed on Jaune.

Jaune stood up. “Uh, yes. Two victories actually.”

“Two victories in one day?” Lady Nikos repeated. “Yet more impressive. You are to be commended for your tactical skill, Mister Arc.”

“My lady is too kind,” Jaune said. He was getting a lot better at mastering the Mistralian manners, or at least he thought he was. He’d had no choice, seeing as he was going to be living here…forever, he hoped. “The warriors win the victories, not I.”

“In Atlas, I believe credit accrues to the general who commands more than to the soldier who obeys those commands,” Lady Nikos replied. “In Mistral it is not so, but that is not to say the architect deserves no credit at all. I do you honour, Mister Arc; accept it graciously.”

“Of course,” Jaune said, bowing his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

“And now I would speak with you alone,” Lady Nikos said. “If you will accompany me to my study, I am sure that Miss Uiharu will contact you if anything arises.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Uiharu declared. “Right away!”

Jaune was uncertain what, precisely, Pyrrha’s mother wished to speak to him about, but he had the distinct impression that her request was courtesy layered over command, like sugar to sweeten the bitterness of medicine. “Of course, my lady,” he said. “I would be…honoured.” Yes, honoured is the right word. I’m pretty sure it is, anyway.

Lady Nikos nodded briskly and then turned away, leaving Jaune to catch up with her. This he did, thanks to the fact that he was taller than she was and didn’t have an injured leg, but she paid little heed to the fact as he walked beside her across the grounds – the cherry blossoms were beginning to bloom again, just as they had when he had first come here with Pyrrha, about a year ago now – and into the house.

Lady Nikos, dressed in a gown of green that matched the eyes she shared with her daughter, led him through the corridors with their amber walls and the strands of golden marble running through them. He supposed that she had done him honour by coming to fetch him herself instead of sending a maid to summon him into her presence. Perhaps that was a sign that they were making progress?

They passed one of the guest bedrooms on the way, where Jaune could hear Qrow sleeping off another one on the other side of the door. Lady Nikos stopped and turned her head towards the room which held the slumbering huntsman, and for a moment Jaune thought that she would remark upon his presence; in the end, however, she simply sniffed disapprovingly and then resumed walking towards her study.

When he had first visited Pyrrha's home, as her guest, Jaune had not found it a homely house; it was too big, too grand, and too full of people who seemed to regard him as somewhat unworthy to be here or to be associated with the young lady of the house. Since he had come back, those feelings had changed somewhat; it was as though Pyrrha's affections filled up the house and warmed it up towards him; or perhaps he just felt like less of an outsider so that he could let himself appreciate the charms of the grand manse more than he had done. Either way, he no longer felt estranged here as he had upon first visiting...but there was still something slightly unwelcoming about Lady Nikos' study, with its sense of closeness, its many relics of a storied ancestry, its wall dedicated to the greatness of Pyrrha Nikos; it seemed to contain in microcosm all the things that had unnerved him about his first visit here, and in this room, in Lady Nikos' private space, they continued to do so.

Lady Nikos set her cane against the wall. "When last you visited, I could walk without the aid of that," she grumbled. "My leg has grown stiffer this past year. I could not venture into the field now even if I wished to." She sat down behind her ebony desk, gesturing for Jaune to do the same.

Jaune sat before her. "Do you wish to?" he asked.

"Not as I am," Lady Nikos declared. "I would only be a burden upon my daughter and her companions in this state. As I was...why dwell upon such things? There is no god who will restore my youth and strength, not even for one last battle, not even though the city be imperilled."

"The city seems safe," Jaune said. "The outlying villages, the kingdom is imperilled, as you say, but I think the city is safe." He paused. "Thanks to Pyrrha and the others, fear has been driven from the hearts of the people." Although a degree of distrust has replaced it in the hearts of some.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos agreed, her tone approving. "I confess that I remain torn between despair that the Council does so little to defend our people in these perilous times and pride that my Pyrrha has stepped forth to do what lesser men fear to." She was silent for a moment. "I think pride wins out, by some degree," she admitted.

Jaune dared a smile. "There's a lot to be proud of."

"Even so, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos declared. "She has exceeded all my hopes and plans for her." Once more she took pause. "And yet, her task is not yet done."

"Pyrrha knew when she decided to become a huntress that her task might never be complete," Jaune said. He bowed his head for a moment. "But I know what you mean, my lady; I'd also hoped that things would have quietened down by now...I suppose that panic is easier quelled in the city than in villages that aren't so well-protected."

"Can you say that their panic is not justified, bandit activity being so rife?" Lady Nikos asked.

"No," Jaune conceded. "Lady Nikos...do you think it's possible that MARS is selling weapons to the bandit clans, as well as to us?"

Lady Nikos leaned back in her chair a little. "It would not surprise me if that were so," she said.

Jaune's eyes boggled a little. "It wouldn't?"

"It has ever been thus with that family," Lady Nikos told him. "The current laird is a charming rogue but a rogue nonetheless, sprung out of a line of duplicitous rogues. Why do you think his ancestor was clapped inside a mask of iron, if not to punish such double-dealing in the past? In all likelihood, he seeks to keep this present state of crisis alive for as long as possible."

"So he's keeping the bandits armed so that we need to keep fighting and buying more weapons from him?" Jaune said, his voice rising and thickening with anger. "He's putting people at risk - whole villages, Pyrrha, our friends - just so he can make more money? And we're just supposed to let him get away with that?"

"What would you do, Mister Arc?" Lady Nikos asked. "You do have need of his weapons, after all. Great lords and worthy councillors have tried to bring down the House of McCullen, and none of them have succeeded; nevertheless, it would not displease me to see him humbled, so if you have any suggestions, I am open to them."

"I..." Jaune slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "No," he muttered. "Not yet, anyway. Does Pyrrha know about this?"

"I expect she would have told you if she were," Lady Nikos said. "I doubt that she would take it any better than you if it occurred to her."

"No," Jaune agreed. "I don't think it would. But that means...when is this going to end?"

"The brigands cannot be sold manpower," Lady Nikos reminded him. "Nor can they be sold enthusiasm, for that matter. At some point, it will sink in with them that there are no easy pickings here, that the territory of Mistral is defended."

"Within a certain distance of Mistral, anyway," Jaune muttered. It galled him, and he knew that it hurt Pyrrha, that there were places further out from the city that they could not defend, not without squandering their force in penny packet garrisons and diluting their ability to repel a major thrust, and even then, they could go down to one huntsman per village, and they still wouldn't have enough people. Anima was vast; they couldn't possibly cover the whole territory. And they shouldn't have to, Jaune thought with a degree of irritation; it shouldn't be up to a bunch of first- and second-year students and some tournament circuit regulars to keep the kingdom safe; where were the huntsmen? Scattered, supposedly; Jaune hoped they were defending the parts of Mistral that Pyrrha and her allies couldn't reach.

That was another reason why they had to suck up the duplicity of MARS: their Iron Grenadiers were defending several settlements against the grimm. And it wasn't as though they needed to worry about bandits.

"You go beyond the bounds of your obligation to Mistral," Lady Nikos said, and Jaune thought that she was using a collective you to refer to the entire group. "That you cannot go further still...the plight of our lands is a shame for the council to bear, not for you or my daughter."

Jaune nodded. "Yes, my lady."

"What think you of the increasing frequency of the grimm attacks?" Lady Nikos asked him. "Is it merely driven by fear, or does Salem have some design against us?"

Jaune spread his hands out in front of him. "I...I don't even know if Salem knows we exist, my lady; we might be ants to her for all I know."

"My daughter is not an ant," growled Lady Nikos. "But I take your point; though I would hope that Mistral counts for something still, it is not reasonable to ask you to peer into the mind of your enemy. In any case, all of this is not really why I asked you here."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "No, my lady?"

"No," Lady Nikos confirmed. "I asked you here - while Pyrrha is absent - to ask you your intentions."

Jaune felt a shiver down his spine. "My...intentions?"

"I consider that I have been remarkably tolerant with regards to your shared...domestic arrangements," Lady Nikos declared. "But my tolerance has limits. To put it bluntly, Mister Arc, do you intend to do the honourable thing with regards to Pyrrha or not?"

"Yes," Jaune yelped. He paused. "You...you do mean marry her, right...um, my lady?"

Lady Nikos rolled her eyes just a little. "Yes, Mister Arc; that is exactly what I mean."

"Then yes," Jaune repeated. "I mean, um," he cleared his throat and got to his feet. "My lady...may I have your permission to marry your daughter?"

"You have more than my permission, Mister Arc; you have my encouragement," Lady Nikos snapped. "If that is your intent, then why don't you get on and do it?"

"I..." Jaune settled back into his chair. "I suppose I was hoping that things would calm down a little," he said. "It doesn't seem right to ask her at a time like this."

"It is the perfect time," Lady Nikos told him. Her eyes glanced to the two pictures sitting on her desk. Jaune couldn't see them, but he guessed they were her daughter and her late husband. "Pyrrha is amongst the greatest warriors of the age, and yet in war, ten thousand fates of death surround even the most prodigiously talented. I pray that it will not be so, but...she may not live to see the return of the Remnant we have known, that which we called normal." She sighed. "I cannot believe that I am about to say this, but I counsel you, Mister Arc, to put on your wedding robes before you must don your mourning garb, and to let Pyrrha do the same; do you understand?"

Jaune nodded. "I understand, my lady."

"You had previously demonstrated that you understood Pyrrha's worth," Lady Nikos said. "I hope, then, that you also understand that she deserves to be taken by the hand and pledged to in devotion, not used as something cheap and disposable."

"I never..." Jaune trailed off. "I never meant to offend Pyrrha by my actions," he murmured. "But I will do the right thing, my lady."

"I am glad to hear it," Lady Nikos said. "Do you require assistance in purchasing a ring?"

Jaune blinked. "My lady, when you say assistance do you mean money?"

"A cheap ring implies a bride who is little esteemed," Lady Nikos said. "Pyrrha deserves better, and yet I am not blind to your circumstances."

"That's...very kind of you, my lady, but not necessary," Jaune said. "I have a ring," he added, fishing it out of his pocket. "It's a family heirloom."

"Indeed?" Lady Nikos murmured. She produced a pair of spectacles from out of her desk draw and put them on. "May I?"

"Of course," Jaune held out the ring to her, and she plucked it out of his hand and began to examine it.

"Hmm...I see it has your family crest on the interior," Lady Nikos observed. "Plain, but well crafted. Do you know its history?"

"I know my grandmother had it."

"I know a little about antiques for obvious reasons," Lady Nikos said. "I would put its age as being far greater. Perhaps as far as the tenth century, the style of the setting of the stone is reminiscent...in any case, it will serve, and admirably at that." She handed the ring back. "I advise you to place that ring upon my daughter's finger with all due dispatch."

"Yes, my lady," Jaune said. "Uh, any advice?"

Lady Nikos lowered her spectacles so that she could look at him over the top of him. "Did you just ask my advice on how you might propose to my daughter, Mister Arc?"

"Uh...no, my lady."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lady Nikos said. "That will be all, Mister Arc."

As he stood up, Jaune realised that his back had become drenched with sweat. "Thank you, my lady."

Champion

Champion

Four months earlier...

The room in the prison was squat and enclosed on all four sides, with no windows disturbing the white plaster walls that hemmed them in, which combined with the fact that the doors on the east and west side of the chamber were both locked to give the feeling of a prison within a prison. And this was the place, the sort of place at least, albeit not in this very room, where Sunset was going to be spending the rest of her life. Caged like a beast...Pyrrha could scarcely imagine it.

Perhaps-

"Don't even think about it," Sunset said.

Pyrrha started in surprise. "How do you-"

Sunset smirked. "Pyrrha Nikos, you are a fount of virtues and full of many splendid qualities, but I am afraid that hiding your feelings isn't one of them."

"I can't let you stay here."

"You don't have a choice."

"Sonata took the crown; she did not take the power of choice out of the world," Pyrrha replied. "I always have a choice."

"Then so do I," Sunset declared.

"You'll die here," Pyrrha whispered, her throat dry.

"I don't think they'll kill me," Sunset said airily, far more so than the situation warranted. "I saved the prison. I helped to save the city. That has to count for something, right?"

"Even if it does," Pyrrha said. "You'll still live out the rest of your life trapped in these walls."

"And the alternative?" Sunset asked. "Are you going to make a space for me on a Mistralian ship? Are you going to hide me in your house? An escaped fugitive for a guest, that's going to do wonders for your reputation."

"I don't care about my reputation," Pyrrha said.

"You ought to, you might need it someday, and sooner than you think," Sunset suggested. She nodded at Jaune, who had hitherto stood silent, just behind Pyrrha. "You get it, don't you, Jaune?"

Jaune was silent for a moment, and Pyrrha fancied that she could sense his discomfort from here. "I think...with Professor Ozpin gone and Professor Lionheart a traitor and the network down...that's a lot of influence gone. There's no one to pull strings, there's no one to ease the way, nobody to cover our backs with authority. I...I hate to say it, Pyrrha, I really do, but the reputation of the Invincible Girl might be all we have left."

Pyrrha didn't reply, mostly because she couldn't deny the fact no matter how much she disliked it. Without Professor Ozpin's guidance, she didn't know if she would make the right choices, or simply know what to do; she wasn't sure where she should start, but even if she did work out what she was supposed to do now on her own, she would have no one to help her get there, no one under whose authority she could claim to be acting. As much as she disliked it, she might find herself having to resort to 'because I'm Pyrrha Nikos' to excuse herself and her behaviour.

“And besides,” Sunset added, “the last thing you need is someone thinking you condone my behaviour. With how people look at you, you’ll be up to your elbows in copycats before you know it.” She smiled, but it was a smile that had something sickly about it. “I’m joking...but at the same time not because you really are that popular.”

Pyrrha did not respond to that reactly. She wasn’t sure how she could. "I don't like leaving you," she murmured. "Or Ruby, either."

Sunset bit her lip. "I...I confess that I might sleep a little easier if I knew that Ruby was going to Mistral with you two...I'm not sure that she should be alone right now, but...but that's her choice, like this is mine. Don't worry about me," she said, a smile playing across her face. "I've got Cinder to keep me company."

"That isn't particularly reassuring," Pyrrha said; for all that Cinder had saved her life, it wasn't enough to simply erase all of the mistrust that had gone before, even if perhaps it should have been.

Sunset's expression became serious. "I didn't ask you to come here so you could break me out."

"Then why are we here?" Pyrrha asked. "To say goodbye?"

"Yes," Sunset said earnestly. "And because I have a gift for you. A going away present."

Pyrrha frowned. "A gift."

Sunset nodded gravely. "The power of the Fall Maiden."

Pyrrha gasped, her eyes flickering towards the camera mounted to the wall. "Sunset!" she hissed.

"That's turned off," Sunset said. "One of the guards is doing me a favour."

"I...I see," Pyrrha murmured. "Except that I don't."

"Professor Ozpin said that the power of the Maiden only passed on when the previous Maiden died," Jaune said.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. "Sunset, you're not-"

"No!" Sunset said quickly. "No, this isn't that, no." She shook her head forcefully back and forth, her fiery hair bouncing around her.

"But how do you even have the powers?" Pyrrha asked. "Cinder-"

"Passed them to me," Sunset said. "As I will pass them on to you."

Pyrrha's breath caught in her throat. This seemed...it was incredible and unbelievable at the same time. This almost seemed like a test, a temptation of that which she had coveted. Surely, this could not be real. "How?"

Sunset shrugged. "The Maidens were created when magic was given to them; it stands to a certain degree of reason that it can be given again," she said. "Or perhaps it's me: in my world, magic can be transferred from one pony to another, though it is little done save in dire extremity."

"And that's where we are?" Pyrrha said, her tone only half a question. "In dire extremity."

Sunset pursed her lips together for a moment. "Is it an inaccurate description?" she asked. "Professor Ozpin is dead, the CCT is down; Atlas, Vale, Mistral...the power of the Maidens may be needed more than ever."

"But it was given to you," Pyrrha reminded her, as though she needed reminding. "Cinder chose you to have this gift; she surrendered her powers up to you as she surrendered her ambition and her evil and all else up to you. That...that is something nearly sacred in devotion; I cannot simply come between that, nor should you so readily cast it aside."

"She gave her powers to me," Sunset said. "Which makes them mine to give to whom I choose. Professor Ozpin chose you; you were always meant to take Amber's place. This gift was never meant for me or Cinder, only for you." Sunset took a step forward, two pairs of vivid green eyes staring into one another. "I am, for now at least, the Maiden of Choice, and I choose to honour Professor Ozpin's dying wish, to entrust this power to the one he trusted to wield it, justly and well."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Sunset, I..." It was a great honour that Sunset did to her, bestowing her trust on Pyrrha's shoulders thus, just as Professor Ozpin had honoured Pyrrha with his trust so often in the last days before his death. But he had died, did that not prove his trust in Pyrrha to have been in vain? "You speak of Professor Ozpin’s trust, but Professor Ozpin died because he placed that trust in those who were unworthy of it," she whispered.

"But not of his trust in you," Sunset replied fiercely, as her ears flattened down against her head. She reached out and placed her hand upon Pyrrha's chest, above her heart. "You have the heart of a hero sprung out of myth and legend. Now let me give you the might to match."

Pyrrha said nothing. She wanted this. She wanted the gift that Sunset offered as she had wanted it every time it had been offered to her; but what if that desire showed that she was in the end unworthy of it, in spite of all the faith that others placed in her and in her virtues?

"You should take it," Jaune said, his voice soft but certain. "No offence, Sunset, but what good is the Maiden's power going to be stuck in a cell?"

Sunset snorted, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought she would come down with an attack of the giggles. "None taken, Jaune," she said. "You make an excellent point; even if you have lowered the tone just a little."

"But you are right nonetheless," Pyrrha admitted. "Very well."

Sunset smiled as she first took one step back and then another. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together at her chest; when she opened her eyes again, they were both ringed with fire, burning with the anima of the Fall Maiden, and more than that, after a moment, her pupils turned completely white, glowing like Ruby's silver eyes when they flared with power. Sunset seemed to glow, her whole body giving off light that was orange like flame; her expression was taut, she shuddered, it was as though she was struggling for control, or perhaps for mastery. The blazing anima around her eyes died as the burning light receded from her body, retreating down her arm and into the palm of her hand. Sunset scowled with concentration as a sphere of orange light, continuously expanding in size, rose above the palm of her hand, swelling and growing, rising towards the ceiling. Then, as though a thread tethering it to Sunset Shimmer had been severed, the power flowed in dancing threads like ribbon caught by a strong autumn wind through the air and into Pyrrha.

Pyrrha gasped as all breath left her throat. As the power flowed into her body, she was lifted up into the air, eyes burning white, arms spread out on either side as the flames danced around her. She remembered how it had felt when her mother first unlocked her aura, how empowered she had felt, how capable. It was the same now, but...but more. She felt a heady rush of strength through her limbs as though she could do anything, as though nature itself would bend at her command.

That rush, like blood to the head, passed as the transfer completed, and Pyrrha found herself set back down on her feet upon the floor of the windowless room, facing a Sunset who seemed older now, or wearier at the least, with bags beneath her drooping eyes and hair that seemed to have lost a little of its fire. "Sunset," Pyrrha murmured. "You are-"

"Diminished," Sunset finished for her. "For a little while. It will pass." She moved - a little unsteadily but nevertheless - to close the distance between the two of them. "This is not my destiny and never was, and with your help, I made my peace with that some time ago."

"Sunset, I..." Pyrrha hesitated. She felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye. This...what Sunset had done would have been too much in ordinary circumstances, but now? When it would be their last meeting for some time, maybe forever? What should she say? What could she say? "No matter what, I vow upon my soul that I will be worthy of your trust in me and of this gift you have bestowed."

Sunset flung her arms around Pyrrha, holding her close as her hair engulfed Pyrrha's face. "I'll miss you," she said. "So much."

Pyrrha gently folded her own arms around Sunset in turn. "I do not know what fate has in store for us, but...but I will always consider myself your friend."

Sunset patted her on the back. "It's all up to you now, Pyrrha," she said. "I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. Me, Ruby, Professor Ozpin, we're all counting on you. You've got to be the hero now, for all of us."

Three Months Earlier…

Pyrrha finished speaking, and silence reigned within her sitting room. Her own words ceased, and no new words rushed to fill the void that she had left. Nora looked, for perhaps the first time, poleaxed into speechlessness. Ren was his usual inscrutable self, but within the confines of the fact that he wore tranquillity like a well-worn cloak, even he looked a little surprised by the truths that Pyrrha had unfolded to him. Sun’s mouth was open, but no words emerged. Neptune was engaged in a detailed study of his hand, seeming deep in thought. Even Pyrrha’s mother was silent, her hands gripping the folds of her dress so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Sun broke the silence with a low whistle that echoed off the green walls and the ochre beams of the room.

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune; he of course had known all of this already, but she had hoped that he would have some notion of how to proceed. It appeared that, having told all they knew, he was as at a loss as she was until some sort of reaction was forthcoming.

“I’m aware that this is a great deal to take in-“ began Pyrrha.

“You think?” Arslan said, her voice sharp. She ran both hands through her wild tangle of hair. “Sorry, this…yeah, there’s a lot here, isn’t there.” She leaned back, sprawling out across the green settee, spreading her arms across the varnished wooden back of the furniture. “So to sum up: the gods were real but aren’t around any more, there is an evil…something who controls the grimm and wants to kill us all, and you are an honest to goodness magical girl because you weren’t ridiculous enough already?”

Pyrrha bowed her head for a moment. “That…is a severely condensed version, but basically accurate.”

“You forgot the part where the Headmaster of Beacon was running a secret war out of his office,” Neptune said. “And the part where Professor Lionheart sold us out to the bad guys.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “There’s that, too.”

“I would not have thought he had the courage to turn traitor,” Lady Nikos said softly. “He is bolder than he appears to be.”

“With all due respect, my lady, that’s not very amusing,” Ren said.

“It was not meant to be amusing, Mister Ren,” Lady Nikos replied sharply. “It is despicable, but at the same time, it requires a certain kind of valour to sit in the midst of your enemies and attempt to undermine their every move. A different kind of courage than to face your foes upon the battlefield, but courage nonetheless.” She pursed her lips together for a moment. “I have underestimated Lionheart for many years, it seems. I and all the rest who were content to dismiss him as a wretched incompetent. He is much more than we gave him credit for, and we must not underestimate him again, or it may cost us dearly.”

“Why keep it a secret?” Neptune asked. “Why not tell the Council? Why not tell everyone?”

“Professor Ozpin wanted it kept secret,” Pyrrha said. “He told only a handful of trusted confidantes and agents; he was afraid that if people knew about the existence of the relics, then people would seek to abuse their power…and the Maidens would be hunted down for the same, as the legends tell they were in ancient times.”

“But if people knew the truth, they might do things differently,” Neptune suggested.

“I think that’s another thing Professor Ozpin and his predecessors were afraid of,” Jaune replied. “If people knew the truth, then they’d be afraid, and that fear might drive them to make mistakes, maybe even to betray humanity like Amber or Lionheart.”

Neptune winced. “I...yeah, I guess you’re right about that. But all the same, if more people who were brave enough to face the truth knew the truth, then...then they might do things better, too.”

“Do you think so, dude?” Sun asked. “I don’t see it.”

Neptune shuffled sideways a little to get a better look at his team leader. “You don’t think so?”

Sun shrugged. “We fight the grimm, and we stop the bad guys; it’s what we went to school for.”

“And the fact that they have an immortal leader doesn’t bother you because-?“

“Because it sounds like all she does is sit around making plans,” Sun said. “Big whoop. None of this changes what we’ve gotta do. Things aren’t any worse today than they were yesterday.”

Nora raised her hand. “I have a question.”

Pyrrha smiled. “You don’t need to raise your hand, Nora.”

“So if this is supposed to be some big secret,” Nora continued, “why are you telling us?”

“Because we need your help,” Jaune said, taking a step forward to stand by Pyrrha’s side. It had been Jaune who had convinced her that they needed to do this: to come clean to her mother and to a select few huntsmen who had proven themselves stalwart and trustworthy. Pyrrha had been uncertain – it hardly seemed what Professor Ozpin would have wanted – but Jaune had insisted upon the point, and his arguments were sound, resting as they did upon the inarguable fact that they could use the assistance. “Professor Ozpin’s dead, Team Sapphire is gone, Team Rosepetal went back to Atlas with General Ironwood, and Professor Lionheart is a traitor. Pyrrha and I are all there is…and I’m not sure that we can do it alone.”

Pyrrha glanced at her mother, curious as to her reaction to hearing him say that; she confessed that she expected a frown of disapproval, perhaps a tut-tutting or a shaken head of distaste. But instead, she saw her mother nod, and for a moment, she even looked slightly approving of the man that her daughter had chosen.

“Which is why we’re telling you the truth,” Pyrrha said. “And asking for your help.”

“Help with what?” Ren asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I don’t know what’s coming next or what’s about to happen. It could be nothing, or it could be something terrible. I don’t know…anything. But I would like to know…can I count on you to stand beside us, if need be?”

Nobody replied. Arslan got to her feet. She didn’t look at Pyrrha. She simply muttered, “I need some air.” And then she stalked off towards the balcony, pushing open the doors of frosted glass and stepping out onto the small space, both hands resting upon the ornate metal railings.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, watching her old rival standing out there in the moonlight. Then she took a step forward. “Will everyone please excuse me for just one moment?” she asked, but kept on walking without waiting for a reply, walking across the sitting room out to the little balcony to join Arslan there.

Her fellow gladiator did not object to her company, neither with words nor with a hostile change of posture or expression. They stood in silence, looking out from the lofty heights of the Nikos mansion down upon the city that spread out below them, illuminated in the night by the lights from the houses of the great and the poor alike, by the paper lanterns strung across the streets, by the lanterns born by those who had reason to go about their business after dark.

There were less of the latter than usual, in Pyrrha’s experience. Mistral was quieter tonight than was often the case, and that could not be all explained by winter chill keeping folk indoors. There was a tension in the air that she had been able to sense ever since the battered remnants of the great expedition had returned, and the surviving soldiers stumbled out into the waiting arms of their families and loved ones. The city – the kingdom – was waiting, just as Pyrrha herself was waiting, waiting for something they knew not what, only that it must come in some form. Waiting for whatever would come after this.

“We’ve been rivals for a long time, haven’t we?” Arslan asked, with an almost plaintive tone to her voice.

“Four years,” Pyrrha answered. “No, wait…it’s actually five now, isn’t it?”

“Five years, but only four in active competition,” Arslan said, splitting the difference. She drummed on the metal with her hands. “You know, when I first went up against you, I was so sure I was going to win. I knew about your background, I knew you came from some big fancy family, and I thought to myself ‘she’s all hype and celebrity; I’m the real deal, I’ll show her what it means to fight’. And then I didn’t manage to land a single hit on you.”

“You were unfortunate,” Pyrrha said.

“I was outclassed,” Arslan replied. “Don’t patronise me, Pyrrha, I’ll take your beatings, but I won’t take your condescension.”

“Condescension was not my intent,” Pyrrha murmured. “But I am sorry,” she added, as she bowed her head.

Arslan exhaled through her nostrils. “I kept thinking that I would get you one day, if I worked at it. I thought that I had to get you or I’d never…but then I saw you fight Penny and that…the truth is even before you got magical powers – magical powers! – you were already out of my league. Turns out I was dog barking at the moon this entire time.”

“You are far from that,” Pyrrha said. “And this is not condescension; this is honesty: you are as gifted a fighter as ever Mistral has produced, and I would be honoured to have you by my side. I…I need you by my side, for your skill and your prestige.”

Arslan’s back straightened just a little at that, but she did not immediately respond. “I can’t see my house from here,” Arslan said. “It’s on the wrong side of the mountain. But I can see the place where I grew up.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked, squinting a little into the darkness.

“Not exactly ‘see’ perhaps, but I can tell you where it is; it’s right down there,” Arslan said, pointing down the hill and a little to the left. “The houses were packed too tightly together, everyone was always in everybody else’s business, there was no privacy, the public park we used to run around in was smaller than the grounds of this house, but it was home. Like this city is home.” She thumped the balcony rail. “Sun’s wrong to say that nothing has changed. I used to think the grimm weren’t that dangerous, I went to Haven for…for a publicity stunt and a chance to compete in the Vytal Festival. I was an idiot.”

“You didn’t know,” Pyrrha said.

“You did,” Arslan countered. “You knew what really mattered even before Ozpin chose you to be part of his secret defenders of the world.” She paused. “Thanks, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “For what?”

“For being honest with me,” Arslan said. “I may not be able to hold a candle to you, but if this Salem wants to bring this city down, she’ll still have to step over my dead body first.” She turned to face Pyrrha. “I’m with you.” Arslan held out her hand, and Pyrrha clasped it warmly.

“I am delighted to have you,” Pyrrha replied, before the two of them turned and went back inside the sitting room.

“We’re in too!” Nora yelled.

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you both.”

“It wasn’t a difficult decision,” Ren said. “Knowing what we know, how could we turn away?”

“There is always a choice,” Pyrrha said. “No one is bound against their will.”

“It’s not a matter of against our will,” Sun said. “It’s a matter of against our…you know, doing the right thing and stuff. Which means: sure, I’ll help you out.”

“Me too,” Neptune said. “I mean, I guess Sun’s right: defending mankind is defending mankind.”

“Of course I was right,” Sun said.

“It doesn’t happen often enough to merit an ‘of course’.”

“I’m glad that you both feel that way,” Pyrrha said. She glanced at her mother. “Mother?”

Lady Nikos looked up into her daughter’s eyes. “What would you have me say? It seems as though your own decisions are made already.”

“Nevertheless, I would have your thoughts,” Pyrrha said.

Lady Nikos hesitated a moment before she said, “I confess myself torn between my pride at you being chosen as our champion in this hidden war against the darkness and my somewhat displeasure that you kept this from me as long as you did.”

“It is a secret, mother,” Pyrrha reminded her. “Which means…and I apologise, this must seem very hypocritical, that I would prefer it if you did not tell your own families or friends or even teammates about what we have told you.”

“That’s smart,” Neptune acknowledged. “I wouldn’t trust my mother with some of this stuff.”

“With luck, they’ll never have to know,” Arslan said.

“I understand the concept of secrecy,” Lady Nikos declared. “I am merely unused to having it applied to me. To learn that we face a great enemy is somewhat disconcerting, to learn that you fight against that enemy is likewise a little shocking. And yet...it is far from unworthy of our line.”

Lady Nikos clasped her hands together, resting her chin upon them. “Many wars did our ancestors fight, first to expand their dominions and later to defend them. My great-grandfather waged a war on which the fate of Remnant’s kingdoms turned. But this...you tell me that this is a war that has raged since history began and in which the fate of humanity itself hangs in the balance. In which case, I cannot deny that it is fitting that you, the fairest flowering of our line in many a generation, should be the one to fight in it. I think that our ancestors – and your father – would be as proud of you as I am.”

“Thank you, mother.” Pyrrha sighed with relief. “Then we have your support?”

“You are my heir; you would have my support as a matter of course,” Lady Nikos said. “If I knew what you would have my support in doing. What do you intend now?”

Pyrrha glanced away from her mother, her gaze flitting across all the other people in the room, coming to rest on Jaune, upon whom her gaze lingered for a moment.

"Another village was attacked today; did you all know that?" she asked, her voice soft and touched with melancholy. "It was destroyed by the grimm. Where are the huntsmen, and what is the Council doing to protect the kingdom?"

"If..." Neptune began. "If Professor Lionheart is a traitor, then perhaps he..."

"He couldn't get away with that, could he?" Arslan said. "Someone would have noticed."

"The Council doesn't appear to care about villages under attack," Ren declared, in a voice that had a little hint of a growl in it. "Why would they care about missing huntsmen?"

"It doesn't matter," Pyrrha said. "Or, well, of course it does matter, but it isn't the point. The point is...the point is that if the Council will not act to protect the kingdom, then...then I think that we must. Mistral is under attack, grimm and bandits alike emboldened by the perception of weakness. I went to Beacon so that I could protect the world as a huntress; I think it's time that I started to do so."

"The seven of us?" Neptune asked. "Defending the whole kingdom?"

"The eight of us will know everything," Jaune explained. "But we wouldn't say no to extra hands to help defend Mistral."

"You want to raise an army," Arslan said.

"'Army' is an exaggeration of what we have in mind," Pyrrha said. "More like a company: huntsmen, tournament fighters, duellists, people who have been trained in combat and the use of aura. I'm not proposing to lead untrained people into battle, not again. I'm not proposing to lead anyone into battle."

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose, but it was Arslan who spoke, "That isn't what it sounded like just a moment ago."

Pyrrha hesitated. "I'm not a leader. At Vale...I failed."

"You said it yourself; this isn't an army," Arslan said. "You're talking about people who can handle themselves, not conscripts who can barely hold a gun."

"I'm talking about people who don't need me to lead them."

"Then who will?" Arslan asked.

"Jaune is our strategist-"

"No offence to Jaune, but huntsmen and tournament fighters are not going to follow your boyfriend into battle," Arslan said. "Pyrrha, you know as well as I do that if we go to Oceana or Hector or Metella with this, they're going to say 'who's Jaune Arc, and why should I listen to him?'" She cringed. "I really don't mean to offend you, Jaune, it's just the way it is."

"I know," Jaune said. "I...I agree. Pyrrha, I'll direct the battles if you want me to, but you're the one with the name and the reputation here, not me. You're the one that everybody trusts. And besides, if someone else leads, someone who doesn't know everything that we know, then it will make it that much harder for us to do what we need to. If we need to."

"Traitor," Pyrrha said playfully.

One corner of Jaune's mouth turned upwards. "Sorry."

Pyrrha looked around the room. "Is that what you all want?" she asked. "Are you all willing to follow me and fight beside me in defence of Mistral?"

Arslan pressed her palms together and bowed. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, and thine honour is mine."

Ren got to his feet. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, and your honour is mine."

"Yeah! What he said!" Nora cried, making a V for victory gesture with her fingers.

"I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos," Neptune said, as he got off his chair to kneel before her. "To speak as you bid me, to fall silent as you bid me, to come and to go as you bid me, to do as you bid me, until my lady release me or death take me or the world end. My strength is yours, and thine honour is mine."

Sun looked at his friend and partner strangely. "Uh, me too, I guess."

"I pledge myself-" Jaune began.

"No," Pyrrha said, her voice soft but as unyielding as steel. "Not you." You are not my retainer. You are so much more than that.

Pyrrha closed her eyes. A sigh escaped her lips half a step ahead of the words that she must speak to seal this compact. "Humbly I accept thy strength and vow to spend it wisely," she said. "Graciously, I cloak thee in mine honour and vow to burnish it with the deeds I shall do and shall demand of thee. I, Pyrrha Nikos, hear thy words and shall not forget, nor fail to reward that which is given. I accept you all into my service."

Present Day...

The mayor of Leuctris wore an ornate gold medallion on a red ribbon hung from his neck, which dangled down as he pressed one fist into his other palm and bowed to Pyrrha. "My lady, you have the gratitude of the entire village."

Pyrrha raised one hand as a nervous laugh escaped her lips. "Please, sir, I am no lady, and your gratitude is more richly deserved by others of our company than myself."

The mayor looked up at her. "As my gratitude stands for that of the village so, in this, you stand for all your followers, of course."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured, yet she could not help but think that some of them might perhaps have rather received some gratitude in their own persons. "I'm just glad that we could be of assistance to you and your village."

The mayor straightened his back, though he was still not quite so tall as Pyrrha. "I am grateful that someone was willing to render us assistance, lady."

"I am..." Pyrrha trailed off, recognising that she could probably insist all she liked without getting very far. "Has no one else offered you any aid? Did you approach anyone else?" With the CCT network down, the means by which Pyrrha and her comrades came across villages in need of protection - and willing to shelter beneath theirs - was by necessity rudimentary and primitive. They tried their best to spread the word of what they were doing, but they were largely reliant upon the villages themselves seeking out their aid, at which point they would set up a few defences - inadequate against large scale assault, unfortunately, but even that was proving a drain upon their resources - and a jury-rigged communications relay so that said village could contact them in case of an emergency. Some villages sought them out eagerly; others only came to Pyrrha's door when they could get nowhere with anyone else. Pyrrha cared not; they were all equally in need of protection from bandits and the grimm alike.

"I went to Mistral myself," the mayor said, "but a Council functionary told me that there were no resources to squander upon precautionary measures. I confess, Lady, that my first call after was MARS and then Rutulian Security; both asked for more than we could have afforded to pay. Only then did I come to you."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. She was not altogether surprised to hear that of MARS, but she had hoped - a faint hope, perhaps, but a hope nonetheless - that Turnus would have had more of a sense of noblesse oblige at a time when the kingdom was under siege. "As I said, sir, I am glad we could help."

"My great-grandfather," the mayor went on, "recalled the days before the war, when we sent a tithe of our wealth to Lord Vasilias in Mistral in exchange for this protection; that was before the monarchy fell."

"Of course," Pyrrha said.

"Now we pay rent on our homes and farms to the Vasilias family, and more than a tithe in taxes to the Council, and what protection do we receive in recompense?" the mayor demanded. He shook his head. "Things cannot continue thus."

"They will not, I hope," Pyrrha said, though whether that hope was every bit as vain or more so than her hope in Turnus' sense of nobility, she could not say. Surely it could not continue thus, these grimm attacks and bandit raids. Surely the bandits would be diminished in numbers, and their courage melt away as they realised that Mistral was not so vulnerable or defenceless as they had believed. As for the grimm, had not Salem won enough at Vale? And if not, then what did she gain by this? Would she not tire of these games or else run out of grimm to squander in them? Would not peace return to these lands? "Though it seems that we labour now in darkness, I believe the light shall return."

"But the conduct of our masters in the darkness will not be forgotten," the mayor warned her. "Nor will the fact that it was you and your bold-hearted companions who stepped forth to defend the kingdom when no other would."

"I am a huntress, sir," Pyrrha replied. "What else can I do?"

"If all who bore that title felt that way, we might not tremble as we do," the mayor said gravely.

"I will not defend the inaction of the Council," Pyrrha said, "but I will tell you that at least the Vasilias family came to your aid today." She pointed down the street to where Neptune stood, chatting with one of the village girls. "The young man with the blue hair and the red jacket; that is Neptune Vasilias, son of Lady Gaia and one of my most trusted companions."

"Ah!" the mayor cried, his face lighting up a little. "I will go and pay my respects to him, but first, lady, what now?"

"We will repair your defences and install some new ones," Pyrrha said. "In case grimm or brigands return to this place. And..." she hesitated, because she never liked this part even as she acknowledged the necessity of it. "May our photographer please take some pictures around your village? No one will be photographed without their permission, but we do need to publicise ourselves and our efforts." Not only would greater publicity of the fact that they existed hopefully encourage more fearful villages to seek them out, but at the same time...what Pyrrha and the rest were doing was not strictly forbidden, but it was not expressly permitted either. Huntsmen rarely formed large combinations outside of the Academy system and for good reason: even a modest force of huntsmen and the like such as Pyrrha now led was probably one of the mightiest forces in arms in Mistral right now. That was why Arslan had been so insistent that they needed to publicise themselves, to make clear what they were about and defuse any questions about their goals or loyalties. So a young Atlesian photography student named Photo Finish, who had been travelling around Mistral when she got caught up in one of their first battles, documented the aftermaths of their engagements - Pyrrha refused to allow her to venture from the airship while the fighting was still going on - while the playwright, humourist and essayist Autumn Blaze blogged ever so slightly exaggerated tales of their adventures. It was ironic, but after years of trying to run away from her fame, Pyrrha now found herself in great need of the good opinion and respect of the general populace.

"Of course, my lady," the mayor said. "Feel free. If that is the only way that we can repay you, then be our guest." He paused. "Are you certain that is the only way that we can repay you? We could not afford the fees of MARS or Rutulian Security, but-"

"That's very generous of you, sir, but quite unnecessary," Pyrrha assured him. Perhaps she ought to have taken his money; perhaps she ought to have taken money from the other villages which offered it; the resources of her family were not unlimited, and perhaps it was no different from taking donations from the general public via the crowdfunding page that Arslan had set up for them. But it felt different; it felt wrong to take money from what were often not particularly prosperous villages in exchange for protecting them from the evil she was, in any case, pledged to oppose. This was her duty as a huntress - and as a Nikos, if that didn't sound unbearably pretentious - and it felt wrong to charge those so much less fortunate than herself to do it. "And besides, you'll need all your resources to repair the damage to your village, I'm sure."

The mayor bowed his head. "If my lady insists. I will leave you to your work."

"Thank you, sir," Pyrrha acknowledged. She left him then, walking down the damaged street, her boots tapping upon the loose cobblestones. Pyrrha's battle dress had changed a little since she returned from Beacon, although the basic elements of it would have been familiar to Ruby or Sunset or anyone else who had known her there. She had exchanged the brown of her opera gloves, her boots, and of her cuirass, for black versions of the same, although there were a few more gold highlights upon the cuirass than there had been before. It also encompassed more of her; instead of being strapless the cuirass now embraced her shoulders in black leather, albeit leaving plenty of space for her to move her arms as she desired, but reaching as far as the gorget around her throat into which it blended seamlessly; meanwhile the boob window was covered by a gauzy mesh that rendered it only translucent while at the same time offering some protection. The colour black had also taken over the band around her arm, but the golden circlet still gleamed bright upon her brow, and the scarlet sash still hung from about her waist, even as both her arms were now embraced by gilded vambraces, and golden rings bound up the strands of hair that fell of either side to frame her face. Pyrrha walked down the street, her weapons slung across her back, and looked down at her hands. Once again her maiden powers had nearly gotten away from her in the heat of the moment; once more she had almost exposed herself. She needed to get a grip, but it was difficult: there was no one to teach her how to use these abilities, nor were there any books on the matter she could consult. She was trying to find her way on her own, fumbling in the dark and not having a great deal of success with it.

But that was a problem for later. For now, there was work to be done.

The huntsmen got to work, setting up new sentry guns around the perimeter of the settlement in case danger should return to this place; they all assembled around the downed mech while Sun and Neptune held up a Mistralian flag - lest anyone forget whose side they were on - while Photo Finish, using a real camera instead of her scroll for better results, took a few pictures of them posed on top of or gathered around their prize before they cleared it out of the street and broke it violently up into parts that the villages could sell for scrap to fund the repairs they needed. Pyrrha and her comrades couldn't stay to effect all of those repairs, but they did gather wood from the nearby forest and erect a crude palisade as a deterrent against opportunists. And as they worked, the camera of Photo Finish was pointed everywhere, documenting everything and everyone, capturing the damage wreaked on the village in the course of the battle and the efforts of the huntsmen to repair it. They were not making the village secure by any means - if another bandit clan appeared or another swarm of grimm emerged from the woods, then Pyrrha and the others would be back here again - but they were leaving it safer than they had found it and ensuring that the village would be able to hold out just a little longer until they could arrive. It was for that reason that they left the weapons discarded by the bandits, and Pyrrha and Neptune gave brief demonstrations on how to use them to any villager who wished. Again, it might deter the opportunistic or buy them a little more time for help to come.

It was all they could do before they boarded the airships and began the return flight back to Mistral.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, as she slung herself into the airship, "we're all done here. We're coming home."

"That's great to hear," Jaune replied into Pyrrha's ear, with relief evident in his voice. "I'll roll out the welcome for you."

Pyrrha groaned softly. "I'd rather you didn't."

"We don't do it on purpose," Jaune said. "We can't help it if people follow us down to the docking pads."

"You could not go and wait for me at home," Pyrrha suggested.

"No, I couldn't," Jaune said earnestly. "Sacrifice, remember?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Yes," she admitted, as the airship began to lift off the ground and into the air. "I remember."

Pyrrha sat upon the edge of the central bay of her airship, one leg dangling out over the empty air, listening to the thrum of the propeller blades behind her as wind gently blew against her face and the verdant kingdom spread out around her.

Arslan sat down beside her, both legs dangling over the edge. "Something on your mind?"

"This is a beautiful country, isn't it?" Pyrrha asked, as they flew over it: the wild forests with their lush, tangled trees; the sapphire streams swiftly flowing by beneath them; the farmers' cottages with smoke rising from the chimneys while the fields around awaited springtime and the plough; the meadows where the wild deer grazed, scattering as the airships flew overhead only to return again as they passed by. "This land would be perfect if not for the grimm...and the malice of a few."

"Fewer now, thanks to us," Arslan said. "But yes," she added, as they passed over a flock of sheep watched over by a shepherd and a pair of faithful dogs. "It is beautiful. I remember when I was a kid, my parents would take me to visit my grandfather out beyond the city. He was a shepherd just like that guy we just flew over. I used to love it, and not just because it got me out of the city, not just because I thought the sheep were cute either. I liked the open spaces, how alive it was. This...this is a place worth fighting for."

"It is beautiful," Ren allowed, from where he stood in the middle of the airship's bay, looming over them just a little. "But at the same time, it is so delicate. These villages we fight for stand ever but a hair's breadth from destruction."

Pyrrha looked up at him. "I know," she said, "but that is why we fight for them."

Ren regarded her for a moment, his expression stoical, before he gave her a nod, and looked away.

They were approaching Mistral by now, passing over the farms that spread out all around the mountain city, the fields and orchards fed by the many rills that flowed down and outwards from the mountainside; and beyond that, emerging into view as they passed through the clouds that shielded her from sight, Mistral itself set tall and proud upon the mountain slope, descending in steps downwards from the lofty palace towards the valleys all around.

Many times had Pyrrha flown out from Mistral these past months, and many times had she flown back again, yet all the same, the sight of the city - her city - never failed to move her, just as she never failed to watch as her home came into view upon the homeward flight.

There was much about the way that things had fallen out that she did not like - there was much about the way that things had fallen out that grieved her sorely - but Pyrrha was glad that circumstances had fallen out in such a way as to allow her to return here, Fall Maiden or no. This was the city built by her ancestors and defended by them over long aeons past. How could she do less than defend it in her turn, as they had done? Where should she place her standard if not here? If the battle did not end, if something close to the normal that she had grown up in never returned, if this time was not an aberration but a new normal, then...then though she spent her life embroiled in combat, at least she would spend it here, in the city that had a claim upon her heart.

I only wish Sunset and Ruby were here to fight beside me.

"Hey, look!" Nora cried. "The others are back too!"

Pyrrha turned her head, getting up and crossing the bay to the other side of the airship to where Nora was pointing; sure enough, she could see a small swarm of airships emerging out of the clouds, like their group heading home for Mistral; they were the group that Pyrrha had led to Elis for their other battle of the day. She could see Violet waving from out of one of the craft. A sigh of relief escaped her at the knowledge that they had returned home safely.

The two groups joined together, two flocks merging to make a greater whole; and as one whole, they descended upon the docking pads of Mistral.

Jaune was waiting for her there. So was her mother. So, in a somewhat less welcome sight, were a great throng of well-wishers and supporters who filled the air up with their cheering as the airships came down.

"Arslan," Pyrrha said softly, "I know that you believe it is important to have public opinion on our side to stave off suspicion; but do you ever worry that we've gone a little too far?"

Arslan looked at her like she was just a little touched in the head. "You think there can be such a thing as too popular?"

"I'm not sure," Pyrrha murmured, "but I wonder what the council and the great families must think when they hear these cheers."

"They can think what they like," Arslan declared breezily. "With support like this, we're untouchable." She tilted her head back so that she was looking up at Pyrrha, a slightly cheeky grin on her face. "Just pretend it's FanExpo or something."

"Believe me," Pyrrha replied. "I am." She put on her mask of celebrity, subsuming Pyrrha Nikos beneath the veneer of the Invincible Girl, the Princess Without a Crown, the Champion of Mistral, and all the rest, a smile on her face as she waved - Arslan was waving too, from where she stood in front of her - to the adoring crowds as the throng of airships descended onto the docking pads to disgorge their cargos of warriors with rapturous reception.

"Another victory?" a voice cried out from the press of applauding onlookers.

"Two," Pyrrha replied, raising her voice a little to be heard as she dismounted from the airship. People were taking pictures of her, taking pictures of all of them, scrolls flashing into her eyes which she tried to ignore.

"Two!" the same voice shouted. "Two victories for the Myrmidons!"

Pyrrha waved once or twice more as she made her way to the edge of the docking pad. Towards Jaune. She allowed the mask to slip as she ran the last few steps to him and flung her arms around him, kissing him quickly and gently, her lips brushing against his, nothing unsuitable for public consumption. A few people nearby cheered, while one extremely rude person booed. Pyrrha did her best to ignore them.

"I'm glad to be home," she said.

"Yeah, I figured," Jaune replied. "I'm glad you made it okay."

"I'm glad everyone made it okay," Pyrrha said. She turned to her mother, bowing her head. "Mother."

"Do not bow to me, no longer," Lady Nikos said quickly. "Mistral's pride should bow to no one." She held out her hands. "Congratulations upon another victory. Upon two more victories. The Kingdom of Mistral is a little safer, thanks to your efforts." The fact that a few people cheered that too suggested that her mother was not entirely above playing to the crowd.

Of course, she was once a tournament fighter herself.

She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers. "Home?" he suggested.

Pyrrha nodded. "Home," she repeated.

"Make way!" a voice from the crowd urged his fellows. "Make way for the heroes of Mistral! Make way for the champion!"

The crowd did obey and did part, a way forming through the press of well-wishes for Pyrrha to begin to make her way homeward, accompanied by her mother and by Jaune and followed by all her comrades who fought alongside her.

And on either side of them, the masses pressed, cheering.

Pyrrha Nikos had been born to leadership, but she was not a leader. All the virtue of Mistral and all its proud and ancient history flowed through her veins, but that had not made her the sort of leader of men that Mistral had produced in times long past. She was the descendant of heroes, emperors, and warlords but, though it seemed she had inherited their skill at arms - and though she had, she hoped, inherited the qualities of character that had animated the best of them - she had not inherited the qualities of leadership that had enabled those same ancestors to carve out a great empire and bring a fractious land together under the cloak of peace and the rule of war. It was unfortunate that at a time when Mistral had need of a Juno, it had instead one of Pyrrha's lesser calibre. Daughter of the Empress Pyrrha the Second, Juno had been given by her father to a kindly shepherd and his wife to raise in secret as their own child; when her true parentage had been revealed, she had raised an army from amongst the common people and retaken Mistral from the Red Queen's heirs; it was said that command had sat upon her shoulders as naturally as armour. Sunset had told her, before she had taken leave of her former leader and returned home, that it was all up to her now, and that...that was honestly a little terrifying. She had power, yes, the power of the Fall Maiden - unskilled with it as she was - which she could call upon in the greatest extremity, but only now that they were gone had Pyrrha become truly conscious of the way in which she had relied upon others to direct her martial energies towards the greater, even the greatest, good. And now all those on whom she had relied were gone, and there was only her, only a Pyrrha Nikos whose inadequacies in these regards only became clearer to herself with every day that passed. All gone save only Jaune, dear Jaune, without whom she would have been truly lost, but while Jaune could plan their battles, he could not tell what Salem would do next or how they could or should or might oppose it. The world needed the wisdom of Professor Ozpin; instead, it had Pyrrha. The world needed the daring and resolve of Sunset Shimmer; instead, it had Pyrrha.

If I had been locked up and Sunset were here, then Remnant would be the better for it, Pyrrha thought.

But it was not so, and it was not to be. And it was no good saying that she was not a leader as an excuse for not trying to show any sort of leadership, and so, with each battle concluded, Pyrrha made a point to visit each of the huntsmen and gladiators who fought for her and see that all was well with them at the close of another day. Sometimes, all was not well, and sometimes, what was unwell was nothing that Pyrrha could help with, but nevertheless, she felt that simply being there, simply listening, was something that a leader would do.

And so she began upon the roof of her great house, where she found Yatsuhashi Daichi sitting atop the roof tiles of dull ochre with his great, trunk-like arms wrapped around his legs; he was sitting so still, and so little light fell upon him in the night, that he seemed almost like a kind of guardian statue, one of the household gods who watched over the family. Pyrrha picked her way towards him, treading carefully upon the roof tiles, following his gaze upwards to the shattered moon that hung so big and so brightly in the sky tonight.

Yatsuhashi heard her approach, his head turning towards her. "Lady Pyrrha," he said, starting to rise to his feet.

"Please," Pyrrha said, holding up one hand to stay his progress. "Don't get up, and please don't call me 'Lady Pyrrha' either; Pyrrha is fine." Though I've been asking people to stop doing that for some time now, and it hasn't stopped them yet. She smiled. "I was wondering if I might join you for a moment."

Yatsuhashi nodded, gesturing to the space beside him with one large hand. "Be my guest," he said in a voice soft and gentle. Yatsuhashi had the physical appearance of a mountain bear, but you didn't have to know him particularly well to discover that he had the heart of a stuffed bear within.

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured, as she sat down next to him. Her gilded greaves gleamed softly in the moonlight. From this vantage point she could see the grounds of the estate spread out around her and, on those grounds, some of her comrades celebrating their latest victory, but Pyrrha did not turn her eyes down to earth for very long, but rather followed Yatsuhashi's example in turning her sight up to heaven, where the moon was so bring tonight that all the nearby stars were dimmed and invisible as though they had been snuffed out. "The moon is very beautiful tonight," Pyrrha murmured.

"I suppose it is," Yatsuhashi murmured.

"You don't think so?" Pyrrha asked, a little surprised.

"No, I...I suppose I do," Yatsuhashi said. He was silent for a moment. "I wonder how brightly it shines on Vale tonight."

Pyrrha understood. She understood very well indeed. "Your teammates?"

Yatsuhashi nodded. "I look up at the moon and I think that if Velvet and Coco and Fox were to look up right now, then...then they would be looking at the same moon as I am, and we would still be connected." He fell silent a moment. "Foolish of me."

"I don't think so," Pyrrha said. "It's poetic, and there is much truth in such things. Truth of the heart, if nothing else." She too, fell silent as she looked up at that glimmering, fragmented orb, wondering whether Sunset's cell had a window - and facing in the right direction - that would enable her to look up and see the moon tonight; if Ruby might look up out of her bedroom window and see it too. Did it shine so bright on Vale as it did here? Loomed it so large in the Valish sky? Could they see it so in Atlas, which seemed so much further off even than Vale? Could Penny and Blake and their other friends of RSPT see it too, in Atlas? Might they be bound together still, by all looking at the same moon? She hoped so, however foolish-fond a hope it was. "You miss them."

Yatsuhashi nodded slowly. "Time and distance...I remember, in my head, that as a team we were far from perfect. But in my heart..."

Pyrrha smiled softly. "You only remember the good things."

Yatsuhashi shook his head. "It is more than that. It is that...even the things that I remember bothered me at the time seem in my memory...good to me now. Coco's bossiness, her pride...it charms me in my memory, like a precocious little sister." He smiled. "The way that Fox was always willing to cut her down to size, or try to...although even the fact that he could never seem to make it stick seems hilarious to me now. And Velvet, when I remember how adorably annoyed she would become whenever she thought we were not taking her seriously as an equal...I shouldn't have left them."

"You had no choice," Pyrrha reminded him, and at the same time reminded herself. “The mood in Vale was turned against outsiders, and Mistral needed all her children home.”

"Fox stayed,” Yatsuhashi declared, a bitterness in his voice. “Vacuo is not Mistral, I know, and often overlooked, but...if I could not stay with them there then I should have insisted that they come with me.”

I would have. I did. But they both refused me. "They would have been welcome here," Pyrrha said softly, for they could use all the fighters they could get.

"I know," Yatsuhashi agreed, "but...according to Coco, Vale needed them more than I did, and they were not the kind to walk away."

Pyrrha hesitated, before she reached out and placed a hand on Yatsuashi's giant shoulder. "I do not know how long this darkness will endure," she admitted, "but I am certain that it will not last forever."

Yatsuhashi looked at her. "You are certain."

Pyrrha nodded, endeavouring to sound more certain than she felt. "We will prevail," she said. "Through our skill and courage, we will break the siege of our kingdom and drive back both grimm and bandits, and when we do...I hope that in that time, the world will have become a saner place, as we are used to. And when it does, we will return to Vale and see our friends again."

"If they yet live."

"They will," Pyrrha insisted, conjuring with a hope that did not burn so brightly in her own heart. "They must live, strong and skillful as they are." Or so we must hope, for without hope...

Yatsuhashi paused a moment before he inclined his head in agreement. "As you say," he murmured. "I must remember what excellent huntsmen they are. Thank you, Pyrrha."

"Any time," Pyrrha replied in a gentle tone as she rose to her feet. She left him there, still sitting upon her roof, looking up at the moon which might bind him through threads of fate no less real for being invisible to his far off friends.

Pyrrha took one last look up at the moon herself and asked its blessing upon all her own dear companions, that they might stay safe until by some miracle they might meet again, though all the powers of Salem stood between them. And then she turned away and descended back into the house to search for more of her comrades.

As she walked down the steps that led to and from the roof, she saw Team JHAL – pronounced Jalapeno, because sometimes, when it came to team names, you took what you could get - not far away, standing in the middle of the otherwise empty top-floor landing, engaged in some kind of discussion.

Most of them were engaged in some kind of discussion, anyway; their leader, Jade Charn, was standing a little to one side from the rest of her teammates, eating those sweets called iokum that she loved so much but which nobody else Pyrrha knew could stand. Hector Troy stood in the centre of the hallway, and it looked as though he was on the receiving end of some rough words from his teammate Alkim Khojaeva, which he appeared to be taking shamefacedly, while the fourth and final member of the team, Lauren Fey, smirked at his discomfort.

“Is everything alright?” Pyrrha asked as she walked slowly towards them, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly under her tread.

Lauren Fey was an androgynous figure, as fey in form and face as their name suggested, who wore their long dark hair brushed back behind their ears and dressed in a dazzlingly colourful – and somewhat bewildering to look upon – riot of colours that were hard to look at for any length of time before started to get a headache. It was much easier to look at their face, for all the smirk was nigh-omnipresent on their face. “Oh, yes, everything’s fine,” they said. “In fact, it’s better than fine. Our dear Hector has had some excellent news, haven’t you?”

Alkim huffed. She was a horse faunus, not a pony faunus like so many seemed to be, but a horse, with equine legs emerging from out of her meticulous embroidered pants ending in hooves resting upon the floorboards. She was dressed in the traditional garb of the plains, black with shades of red masterfully embroidered upon it and a headdress that concealed her hair from view. “You shouldn’t joke about things like this,” she said sharply.

“I joke about everything,” Lauren replied.

“That doesn’t mean you should,” Alkim informed him.

“Hector?” Pyrrha asked. “What’s going on?”

Hector was a tall young man, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a beard that made him look older than the eighteen years he shared with Pyrrha and his teammates. He was clad in a cuirass of bronze armour, but he nevertheless looked vulnerable against the hostility of Alkim and the amusement of Lauren. His face was red, and he scratched at his beard. “My girlfriend…she’s…with child. My child.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose, disappearing a little behind her bangs. “Congratulations?” she offered weakly.

“It’s not something that either of us wanted to happen,” Hector mumbled.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured. She was beginning to wish that she hadn’t gotten involved in this conversation. “I…I see. Are you…are you going…do you mean to…keep it?”

It seemed to take Hector a moment to realise what she meant. “Yes,” he said firmly. “That…has already been decided. What I have to decide is…what I should do next.”

“How about the decent thing?” Alkim suggested acerbically.

“It isn’t always that simple,” Pyrrha said gently. Although there are times when I wish it was. Sometimes, you just have to be patient and wait for a man to come to an understanding of what is expected of him on his own; if you love him, that isn’t too difficult.

Although, I suppose it may be harder if you are suddenly put into a delicate situation like this.

“Indeed, it isn’t,” Lauren agreed. “Sometimes, the girl has a scary father.”

“It isn’t her father that concerns me,” Hector snapped. “It’s everything else.”

Jade popped another piece of iokum into her mouth. She was swathed in a cloak of green, trimmed with white fur at the collar and hem, and her hands, one of which emerged from the recesses of the cloak to pluck sweets from the bag she held in her other hand, were concealed beneath white, fur-trimmed gloves. Her lips were painted a rich rouge. She scowled, and those rouged lips turned downwards. “He’s thinking of leaving the team,” she informed Pyrrha.

Pyrrha’s mouth opened for a moment. “Oh,” she said. “I see.” That would be a loss; she had come across Hector on the tournament circuit before leaving for Beacon; he was a solid fighter, and he would be missed.

“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Pyrrha,” Hector said. “I appreciate what we’re all doing here. But at the same time…how can I ask Andromache to marry me as I am now? I cannot support a wife in this condition.”

“No,” Pyrrha was forced to agree. She was not only a poor leader but a poor lord as well; she might keep warriors in her hall, but she did not – could not – reward their valour with gifts of gold and land as the sword-lords of old had given to their loyal retainers. She was no ring-giver. “I quite understand; you must do what you must, what is best for your family. No one will think any the less of you if you leave.”

Hector snorted. “I will think less of me, and be shamed before all these gallant folk of Mistral besides. And in any case, what would I do outside of your service? I am no true huntsman; outside this house, I could not work or act as one.”

That was another uncomfortable truth. Professor Lionheart had gone into hiding - according to Councillor Ward, he attended council meetings remotely, from a location he would not divulge - and Pyrrha’s relations with him would have been strained regardless. As a result, neither she nor Jaune nor any of the other students who had joined her in this fight had officially graduated from a combat academy as huntsmen and huntresses; it was something else that made their position so precarious from a legal standpoint.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have involved you in this struggle-“

“To save our kingdom and our homes,” Alkim finished for her, cutting her off. “You owe us no apology for that, or for asking our assistance in a noble venture. You owe no apology to the villages that are safe because of us.”

“Indeed not,” Hector said. “That…that is the third horn of my dilemma. You see…Andromache lives in Thebes.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “You were gone a few weeks ago…visiting her, wasn’t it?” Her eyes widened. “Is that-?”

“Probably,” Hector acknowledged. “The point is-“

It was Pyrrha’s turn to finish a sentence. “That Thebes is one of the settlements that we protect.”

“Could it be that I can do more to keep Andromache and our child safe here, fighting alongside you, than I could living with her?” Hector asked. “One huntsman who is not even a real huntsman could not protect a whole town, but this force that you have built…”

“Could they not move to Mistral where it is safer?” Pyrrha asked.

Hector shook his head. “Her father is a stubborn old man.”

Pyrrha nodded. “We will continue to do what we can to protect Thebes and every other town and village to call on us for aid,” she promised, “but only you can decide what is best for you and your family.”

“I know it well enough,” Hector replied. “If only I knew when this would end? It will end, will it not?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Jade suggested. “What if it is a winter that lasts forever? Always winter but never the holidays.” She popped another iokum into her mouth and began to chew on it.

“Then we’ll fight all through winter, for those who can’t fight for themselves,” Alkim declared.

“We cannot fight this war forever,” Lauren said, in a tone unusually earnest for them.

“Nor would I ask you to,” Pyrrha assured them all, “but…I confess I cannot say when it will stop.”

“Can you promise that it will stop?” Lauren asked.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “It must, in the end, if we hold fast,” she said, which was…not quite a lie, but probably not the answer Lauren was looking for. “Hector,” she added, “fear no judgement or disapproval. In your position…you and Andromache must decide your way forwards. Know that, whatever your decision, I am grateful for your valiant assistance.” She smiled. “And congratulations! You’re about to become a father!”

Hector let out a bark of laughter. “Yes. Yes, I am, aren’t I?”

“And he only just worked it out,” Lauren muttered.

“I’m about to become a father!” Hector repeated, louder now and with more enthusiasm.

Pyrrha smiled. “I wish you – both of you – all the very best of fortunes, and thank you to all four of you for your efforts today.”

They made way for her, and Pyrrha walked down the landing towards the stairs that led to the next floor of the house.

She was pleased for Hector, and she very much hoped that he came to the best decision for his burgeoning family; which was to say that she hoped he did the decent thing by Andromache. Pyrrha looked down and couldn’t help but wonder what she would do if she were caught in that same situation.

A child - her child, and Jaune's - would be wonderful; it would be a gift from the gods in many ways, but at the same time...was this the right time to bring a child into the world? Could she justify doing so? Could she justify absenting herself from this desperate battle for months on end to carry and nurse a babe? No. No, she thought not, not at this time.

It would be much easier to console myself to that fact if I knew when this would end, Pyrrha could not help but think to herself. If it will ever end. She hoped it would, if not end, then at least ebb; she hoped the fighting would lessen in intensity and return to something like the levels it had been before the Battle of Vale, but if it did not...Or even if it did, then what? There would still be fighting? Would there not always be fighting? The dreams of destiny with which she had once indulged herself and been indulged during her youth - it felt strange and a little perverse to think of herself as having already left her youth behind, but nevertheless, that was how she felt; she was yet young, and yet, she was no longer youthful, or at least she did not feel so - seemed so naive now, and far away. For all the power at her command, for all that she was the Fall Maiden, she no longer imagined that she might cast down all darkness and bring an end to all the fears that blighted the world. The struggle against Salem that had raged before she was born would continue until she was old. Would there ever be a time when she could, safely and in good conscience, stop, lay down her arms, and put her own self and her desire for a family above the needs of Mistral and the world?

Ruby's mother did, when she stood in my position. For a moment Pyrrha rather selfishly wished that she could have talked with that remarkable woman, asked her how she had felt able to take that step, and when...and how she could then tear herself away from her children to return to the fight, which was Pyrrha's other fear.

But I can't ask her, and in any case, even if I could, I'd be far from the first person that she would want to speak to. Besides, Summer Rose was not a Maiden, as far as I know. Pyrrha had sought this power, perhaps this was simply the consequence of that she had to live with.

Or perhaps I should speak to Jaune about all this before I spin my thoughts out too far. He might have his own thoughts on when they could or should have children, possibly more sensible thoughts than hers. They had discussed it a little, enough to understand that they both wanted children in the abstract, but with the question of when or other such practicalities left unspoken for the moment. They had not discussed the question of marriage at all. Pyrrha did not want to force him - or feel like she had forced him - into any step that he was not inclined to take; surely he would not be happy in such a state, and she would not make him unhappy for all the world. She did not want to nag, to become some sort of romantic comedy harridan pestering him to know when he would marry her or give her children. She loved him enough to be patient with him in this, just as she had been patient in waiting for him to see her standing there. And besides, he was not a Mistralian, and in Vale, she knew, they did things differently; in Vale, it was far from uncommon for a couple to live their whole lives together out of wedlock. She just hoped he understood that she was not a Valish girl.

Pyrrha began to descend the stairs to the next floor of the house, only to find Ditzy Doo sitting on the stairs, about halfway down. A muffin sat on the stair beside her, but right now, she seemed more interested in writing something, with a book on her knees serving as a rest while she scribbled on a piece of paper.

"You know there are plenty of desks or tables that you could use," Pyrrha said. "You might be more comfortable."

Ditzy looked up at her. "It's okay," she said. "It's quiet up here."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I'm sorry," she said. "I won't disturb you any further."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Ditzy said, wincing just a little. "I'm nearly finished anyway."

She lifted her muffin up and out of the way, tacitly inviting Pyrrha to sit down on the step beside her. Pyrrha took the invitation, tucking her sash over her leg so that it did not spill over onto Ditzy as she sat. "Who are you writing to?" she asked.

"My sisters, back home in Atlas," Ditzy said. "We used to talk all the time, but now that the towers are down..."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. "You miss them?"

Ditzy shrugged. "I guess," she said. "I'm glad they're where they are, and not where I am."

"Safe and sound in Atlas," Pyrrha said.

Ditzy nodded. "No offence, but I hope Atlas isn't relying on Rainbow Dash to organise the defences, you know?"

Pyrrha snorted. "Don't worry, I quite understand. More than that, I...I agree with you. The work we do here should not be up to us. The fact that it is..." That fact is cause for shame on Mistral, not glory to ourselves.

"But that doesn't mean it's not good work," Ditzy replied. "And I didn't mean to say it wasn't." She hung her head a little. "I always come out with the wrong thing."

"No, not in this instance," said Pyrrha. "I understand exactly what you meant. Ditzy, may I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure I guess?"

"Why did you leave Atlas, to come to Haven?"

"Why did you leave Mistral and go to Beacon, Pyrrha?" Ditzy asked in reply.

Pyrrha's lips twitched upwards briefly. "A fresh start. To be seen in a different light. To be Pyrrha, and nothing else."

Ditzy looked at her, her eyes closing for a moment as a gentle smile sat upon her face. "A fresh start," she repeated. "Yeah, I suppose I was looking for one of those, too. Although I wanted to be a little more than just good ol' Ditzy Doo."

Pyrrha frowned. "Is it so terrible to be seen as yourself?"

"Maybe when it doesn't feel like all of yourself," Ditzy lamented. "When nobody thinks that you can do anything, then you can't make them let you try, and...and it wouldn't matter even if they did; they still wouldn't change their minds. I could have been as great as Rainbow Dash, and people still would have looked at me and thought 'yup, good ol' Ditzy'."

Pyrrha nodded. "Opinions, once formed, can be extraordinarily hard to shift." The hero remains a hero, though they bring so much wickedness into the world; the villain remains a villain, though they spend every moment waking seeking to atone for what they did.

"Also..." Ditzy hesitated. The smile slipped off her face, replaced by a look of slightly distant sadness. "There was a boy," she admitted.

"You...were fond of him?"

Ditzy nodded disconsolately. "I was always there, but he never saw me at all.”

Pyrrha sighed sympathetically. "Boys...can be a little dense, sometimes. That's why we girls need to be a little patient sometimes."

Ditzy shook her head. "The girl he chose...she wasn't very nice. She didn't treat him right. In the end...I couldn't keep watching her treat him bad like that; I couldn't keep watching him let her treat him that way. It was easier just to go someplace else." She looked at Pyrrha, or at least she seemed to be looking at Pyrrha. "You're a real lucky girl, you know?"

Pyrrha felt a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "I'm well aware," she murmured. Although thank you for reminding me.

"Do you love him?"

Pyrrha didn't hesitate. "With all my heart."

"Then don't let him get away," Ditzy advised her.

"No," Pyrrha replied. "I've no intention of letting that happen. Did you ever think about going back to Atlas, when the towers went down?"

"Not really," Ditzy said. "I like it here. And besides...I still don't know what I'd do if I ran into him again."

Pyrrha hesitated, unsure of what exactly to say. "I'm glad you decided to stay," she said. "You're a great asset to us here. And who knows, maybe you'll find somebody new."

"Really?" Ditzy asked. "Like who?"

Neptune walked past the staircase, accompanied by Sun; they were talking about something or other, but nevertheless, they noticed Pyrrha and Ditzy on the stairs and stopped.

"Hey, girls," Neptune said. "What's up?"

Pyrrha got to her feet. "We were just talking," she said. "About..." she didn't really want to embarass Ditzy or spill any confidences, so she said, "old friends far away."

A pensive look stole over Sun's face. "Yeah, I think about that a lot, too."

"Blake?" Pyrrha asked.

Sun nodded. "I just...I just can't stop thinking about her, you know."

"Yes," Neptune said. "We do know."

"Every so often, she just pops into my head," Sun continued.

"We know," Neptune repeated, with the air of one who has heard this many times before.

"I'm sure Blake is doing fine in Atlas," Pyrrha said. In fact, she's probably doing a lot better than we are. As Ditzy said - and there was no offence to be taken, because it was perfectly true - Atlas probably wasn't relying on Blake or Rainbow Dash to lead its whole defence against the grimm. If they were even having trouble with the grimm; they might not. Pyrrha just didn't know. News from Atlas had not dried up to the same extent as news from Vale - the grain ships continued to sail north, for all that some in Mistral seemed to wish they wouldn't - and all the reports filtering back, if you could call sailors' gossip and travellers' tales "reports," indicated that while Atlas might have been looking to its own defences, those defences remained strong under General Ironwood's leadership. They were fortunate to have real leaders there; would that Mistral could say the same. There were even rumours of dealings with Menagerie, of ships passing back and forth between the northern and the southernmost continents - some in the villages Pyrrha and her allies protected claimed to have seen said ships passing overhead - but again, too few details to make much of it or to know if it was the sort of thing that ought to be made much of. There was no specific news of Blake or Penny or any of their other friends of RSPT, but Pyrrha hoped that no news was good news, and that if they had fallen it would have caused sufficient stir to reach the ears of someone bound for Mistral. "She has some good friends with her," she added, which was the foundation of her optimism where their Atlesian or Atlas-bound friends were concerned; she had left Sunset and Ruby each all alone with their sorrows, and the guilt of it tormented her, even as it fuelled her fears for them; but Blake and RSPT had left altogether, along with Applejack, and she trusted them to take care of one another. Not that she could do anything but trust.

"I know," Sun acknowledged. "I just wish that I knew, you know?"

Pyrrha smiled. "Do you wish that you'd gone with her to Atlas?"

"He tried," Neptune told her.

Pyrrha hadn't heard this before. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sun muttered, slightly disconsolate. "That Ciel girl put me off the ship. She wasn't mean about it, but she was pretty clear that I shouldn't try again. And then...they were gone."

"Selfishly, I have to admit I'm rather glad," Pyrrha confessed. "Team Sun needs its leader, and we need you."

Sun grinned briefly. "Thanks. You know it says a lot that that counts as selfishness for you."

"Doesn't it for everyone?"

"Who's Blake?" Ditzy asked. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"She's not his girlfriend," Neptune said.

"Dude!" Sun cried in an outraged tone. "She...okay, maybe she isn't, but she would be! If all of this craziness would just stop long enough for me to ask her out."

Pyrrha laughed. "I think you're probably right about that. Or maybe sooner. I don't believe that the Atlesians will be gone forever; they may have withdrawn after the network collapsed, but they'll be back. General Ironwood, Rainbow Dash, Penny; they won't just abandon us."

"You think they'll come riding to our rescue?" Ditzy suggested.

Sun raised one hand. "Now hold on, Ditzy, I wouldn't say that we need a rescue," he said. "It sucks that we have to do all the work, but we're doing okay, right?"

"Thanks to you, and all of us," Pyrrha said. "I'd say we're doing better than okay. But, as much as I may be guilty of lacking proper pride as a Mistralian when I say this, I wouldn't turn my nose up at an Atlesian squadron if it appeared over the horizon."

"You shouldn't talk like that," Neptune said darkly, his tone earnest. "You shouldn't leave being a good Mistralian to the fools who want to start trouble with Atlas."

Pyrrha sighed. She could scarcely believe that even now, after all that had happened at Vale, there were still people in this city who considered Atlas to be their enemy. Fortunately, after the Battle of Vale, there was no appetite for military conflict with Atlas or even Vale - not even from those who alleged that one or both of those kingdoms had stabbed Mistral in the back during the fighting - but there were some calling for an embargo on all food exported to Solitas in an attempt to bring Atlas to its knees. "I hope," she said, "that I haven't so misjudged my fellow citizens that such wild talk will become ascendant here."

"And if it does?" Neptune asked.

"Then what can we do?" Pyrrha responded. "Rebel against our home? No. All we can do is continue to defend the kingdom and use what influence we have to advocate for the peace and cooperation that enriched the world before all of this unpleasantness." She shook her head. "But enough of such heavy talk; it is not fitting for the aftermath of a victory. Please: eat, drink, enjoy yourselves; there's plenty of food downstairs, and I think Autumn is going to sing for us."

"What about you?" Sun said. "Are you coming?"

Pyrrha took a step downwards. "Maybe later," she said. "There are some things I have to do first."

"Suit yourself," Neptune said. "Ditzy, you hungry?"

"Sure," Ditzy said. “You know, Sun, I’m writing a letter to Atlas right now, so if you want to write to Blake, I’ll make sure it gets mailed with mine.”

“Write as in write? By hand?” Sun asked. “I’m not sure if she’d be able to read that, but I guess it might be worth a try. Okay, I’ll see if I can scratch something out, thanks.”

“Any time,” Ditzy said cheerily. "Thanks, Pyrrha!"

"On the contrary, thank you," Pyrrha said to them, as Ditzy joined Sun and Neptune in walking down the corridor towards the next set of stairs, downwards to where the celebrations were taking place in the great hall. Thank you, for your efforts in the field and for so much more.

Pyrrha didn't join them; rather, she let them get a little bit of a head start before she followed in the same direction down the corridor, but only as far as a door halfway down, with an antique suit of armour standing guard just outside of it. The room on the other side of this door had been her father's reading room when he was alive, and for a good many years after too; now, it served Pyrrha and Jaune both as a study. Pyrrha pushed open the door, and as she had expected, she found Jaune there, sitting at a small desk, watching a video on his scroll. It took Pyrrha a moment to recognise it as the drone footage from the day's battles.

Jaune looked up as she came in. There was a weariness under his eyes, but nevertheless, his face brightened at the sight of her. "Hey."

Pyrrha smiled. "Hey," she repeated, as she shut the door behind her. "What happened to the boy I knew who used to read comic books instead of doing his homework?"

Jaune smiled back at her. "He met a girl who inspired him to shape up."

"Oh, really?" Pyrrha replied. "That would be Sunset Shimmer, I presume."

Jaune snorted. "I said inspired him, not intimidated him," he said. He looked down at his scroll and paused the video. "I need to study this while it's still fresh, so I can figure out what I could have done better."

Pyrrha walked across the room to him, circling around the desk and leaning against it, looking down upon him and his work; he had maps of the battlefields on which they had fought spread out on the surface of the desk, with jottings on post-it notes and scraps of paper scattered around. Pyrrha reached out, and brushed one hand lightly through his hair. "These victories belong to you as much as anyone."

Jaune looked up at her, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "If that's true, then if we need to keep winning more victories, I can't afford to slack off."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "I suppose not." She looked away from him and towards the map of Mistral that took up most of the west wall. It was covered with red pins forming three quarters - actually, it was more like four fifths - of a ring around the city; a sliver of land to the south of Mistral had no pins in it whatsoever. Although, that was the territory being defended by the Iron Grenadiers, so it could be that they were getting hit, and Pyrrha simply wasn't aware of the fact.

"They're coming at us from every direction," Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune looked up at the map. "Not everywhere," he said, a touch of sharpness in his voice.

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "Well, not that we know of." I wonder what kind of opposition Rutulian Security is experiencing?

I suppose I shall have to go and ask Turnus about it. That was not something she particularly wanted to do, but for the good of Mistral...others were making far greater sacrifices.

"Sun reminded me of how lucky I am," Pyrrha said, kneeling down so that she was longer looking down on Jaune but at something closer to level with him, even if it meant that she now had to look up at him just a bit. She placed a hand upon his arm. "To have you here."

Jaune looked at her, a smile brightening his face. "You needed Sun to point that out to you?"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes. "I mean...the girl he loves is on another continent, thousands of miles away, and he has no way of knowing...anything about her or how she's doing or even..." the words died in her throat.

"Even if she's still alive," Jaune finished for her, his voice a little hoarse.

"She is," Pyrrha insisted. "She must be. It's Blake, and she's in Atlas." She paused. "But all the same, in spite of that, I...it's very hard on Sun. And - although I couldn't say this to him - it reminded me of how lucky I am to have you right here with me."

Jaune placed his free hand on top of hers. "I'm lucky too," he said.

"Are you?" Pyrrha asked. "Are you really?"

Jaune frowned. "Pyrrha? What do you mean? Why would you ask me that?"

"Because this is my home, not yours," Pyrrha said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "You left your home behind to come with me and fight for mine. Does that...does it ever bother you?"

"No," Jaune said, with absolute unflinching certainty in his voice.

"No?" Pyrrha repeated.

"No," Jaune insisted, as he got up out of his chair and lifted Pyrrha to his feet. "I miss Ruby, I miss Sunset, I miss not being able to call my family, but...but I don't regret the choice that brought me here, not for a single moment. Mistral might not be where I was born, but that doesn't mean that I've left home behind because my home...my home is wherever you are."

Pyrrha felt her heart melt a little. "Oh, Jaune," she whispered.

"Pyrrha," Jaune began, and for a moment, it seemed that he would say something else; for a moment, Pyrrha dared to hope that he would follow up those romantic words by saying something else, but...he didn't. It was as though whatever he had meant or wanted or intending to say stuck in his throat, and he could not get them out. He seemed embarrassed about something as he turned away from her. "Nothing," he muttered. "How, um, how is everyone?"

"Yatsuhashi is worried about the friends he left behind."

Jaune nodded, as he bent his back and leaned upon the desk with both hands. "We're all worried about the people we left behind."

Pyrrha said nothing. There was nothing left to say on that particular subject. Words and speculation alike had been exhausted to the point that...what was there left to say? They had no idea what was going on in Vale; they didn't know if Ruby or Sunset were still alive or what they were doing if they were alive or...anything. Pyrrha knew Jaune's fears as well as she knew her own, and he knew her guilt over having left them. But that did not make either of them keen to go over it again. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"Hector's going to be a father," she said, to change the subject from the oppressive one of the fates of their friends.

Jaune looked at her, and on his face Pyrrha was slightly amused to behold the mirror of her own initial surprise. "Huh? Seriously?"

"I think...there must have been an accident," Pyrrha put it delicately.

Jaune stared at her for a moment. "Huh. Lucky him, I guess." He paused. "Is it lucky him?"

"I think so," Pyrrha replied. "Once the initial shock had worn off, he seemed...quite pleased."

Jaune nodded, not saying anything for a moment or two. "So...what's he going to do?"

"I don't think he knows, yet," Pyrrha said. "His girlfriend lives in one of the outlying settlements, Thebes; he doesn't know whether he can take care of his family best by being with them or by fighting with us."

"It would be a pity to lose him," Jaune observed.

"It would be a pity to lose anyone," Pyrrha declared. She bowed her head for a moment. "Do you think they're being wise?"

"Huh?"

"Bringing a child into the world at a time like this?" Pyrrha explained. "Do you think...would they be better off waiting, until things are better? If they ever get better."

"It will," Jaune said, his voice slightly tremulous. "It has to."

Pyrrha closed her eyes. "What if it doesn't?" she asked quietly. "What if I can't make it better? There are times...it feels like all we're doing is holding the line."

"What if that's enough?" Jaune said. "Even if that's all we can do, isn't that a great thing? People are alive because of us, because of you. Maybe we're not perfect at this, but...come on, Pyrrha, we're eighteen! Where the hell are all the grown-ups? We're doing the best we can, and I think we're doing a pretty damn good job considering that this shouldn't even be our job." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that her head was resting against his chest. His arms were warm and strong, and his hoodie was soft - for the most part, less so the bunny logo, part of which was tickling Pyrrha's cheek - so that she didn't mind one bit just resting there in his embrace. "We ought to be second-year students at Beacon right now. Our biggest adventure should have been competing in last year's Vytal Festival. We should be taking Professor Port's tactics class, not learning tactics as I direct you into life or death battles. This shouldn't be our lives."

"But it is our fate," Pyrrha replied.

"Yes, it is," Jaune said. "And you're meeting it. I can't think of anyone I know who would do better thrown into your position. Pyrrha...Pyrrha, I..." He released her, his arms falling to his sides.

Pyrrha looked at him. "Jaune?"

"Pyrrha..." he whispered, and once more he seemed to hesitate, to choke on his words. "I have to go. I mean not go go, I mean...step out for a minute, get some air. In the house."

"Oh," Pyrrha said. "I see. Of course."

"Great," Jaune said. "I mean, uh, I will...catch you later. Okay, bye." He practically fled out of the room. The door shut rather heavily behind him.

Pyrrha was left staring at that door. How very curious of him. Still, she trusted that he had a good reason to her that he would explain to her later tonight. As for herself, she had many more people to check up on before she was through.

Pyrrha followed him out of the study, but he had already passed out of sight. She stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door gently behind her. This floor - the third - held the guest bedrooms, most of them empty at this point, but there was one that she thought would be occupied. Pyrrha walked down the corridor, past a pair of third century vases filled with red lilies, and stood before Qrow Branwen's room. She knocked gently on the door. "Mister Branwen?" she asked.

An uneven snoring coming from inside the room was the only answer that she received.

Pyrrha took a step back, her head bowed. Forgive me, Ruby; I fear I'm not really taking very good care of your uncle. With things so hectic here, Qrow Branwen was largely left to do as he pleased; unfortunately, stricken as he was with grief for both his mentor and his niece, what it mostly seemed to please him to do was drink until he passed out, then sleep until he was ready to start drinking again. Mother had locked the wine cellar up several weeks ago, but that just meant he spent his days in low bars instead. Pyrrha had had to bail him out of the drunk tank twice, and the fact that the police had been very obliging about the whole thing had not made it any less embarrassing. And yet, it was her own fault because she hadn't been able to help him. She had no idea where to begin. How could she console him after such losses? Where would she even begin? And yet, by failing to do so, she was, she felt, letting Ruby down tremendously.

She knocked again. "Mister Branwen?"

"They got cars big as bars, they got rivers of gold," the singing that came from within the room was slurred and only half-coherent; after that line, it became completely incoherent.

Pyrrha sighed. I'm sorry, Ruby. She would try again later.

That was what she always said. But when later came...it was always easier to say that he still wasn't in the mood and go somewhere else. As she did now, walking down the corridor beneath the imperious gazes of the death masks of her noble ancestors. Candles flickered behind the red terracotta visages, so that the eyes of the dead seemed to blaze like fire as they stared out at her, stern-faced in judgement. Pyrrha felt her back straighten; she was defending her kingdom against all its enemies; surely they could find no way to disapprove of her now?

She descended into the great hall, where it looked as though Autumn Blaze had just finished a set – in addition to being their blogger, she was also kind enough to put her other talents to use for the entertainment of the heroes after battle: sometimes, she told jokes, her stand up was a riot; other times, she sang numbers from some of the musicals she’d written – and was taking a break to take a much-needed drink of water. Teams real and impromptu were scattered across the tables of the hall: the ad-hoc team of tournament fighters who had followed Arlsan and Pyrrha’s lead to answer the call of Mistral, Team JAMM, Team VLCA, Arslan standing in the other doorway; Sun and Neptune were there with Ditzy too and seemed to be having a good time. Aside from Team JHAL, probably still discussing Hector’s circumstances, it was only Bolin and Nadir, formerly of Team ABRN, and Ren and Nora whom Pyrrha couldn’t see here.

Ditzy caught sight of her and waved, beaming excitedly. “Good luck, Pyrrha!”

“Um, thank you,” Pyrrha acknowledged, though she was uncertain as to why, exactly, she should need good fortune right now. Everyone was behaving so very oddly this evening, it was quite, quite baffling.

It was her fellow tournament fighters, her fellow former tournament fighters, she supposed, whom Pyrrha approached first. There were only four of them, and she had to admit that that was fewer than she had hoped for when she had first approached the fighting gyms, but it turned out that there were not that many willing to trade the safety – and the potentially lucrative career – of the arena for the hazards of the battlefield. Only four had been willing to do so. But they were a good four, probably the best four she could have asked for.

Michael Corona, the reigning champion until this year’s games were held, was the first to notice her approach. He rose to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor as he bodily pushed it backwards with his legs. He was a slightly squat young man, about as tall as Nora but much broader in the shoulders, with an ill-favoured face framed by long black hair dyed purple at the tips. He was naked from the waist up, save for a mail manica protecting his sword arm, exposing a chest hard enough to make Sun jealous. He clenched his right hand into a fist and placed it above his heart as he bowed. “Your highness, you honour us with your presence.”

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “Please, Michael, there is no need for that.”

“Is there not?” Michael asked. “Are we not yours? Have we not knelt to you and kissed your sword?”

“Technically, the answer to that is no,” Esau reminded him. Esau Shepherd was a bear faunus, which manifested in a lot of hair covering his rather lithe and slender body until he looked like some sort of half-transformed were-creature from a monster movie, clashing somewhat with the technicolour coat that he had on. He was playing with a slingshot in one hand, swinging it back and forth as it wrapped around his finger. “No kissing of any swords was done by any of us.”

Michael gave him a rather dirty look. “It was a metaphorical sword and a metaphorical kiss.”

“Ah,” Esau said. “The worst kind of kiss.”

“We could kiss your sword,” suggested Oceana Turquoise. She was a fish faunus, bald with a turquoise fin on top of her head like the crest of a helmet – in fact, her actual helmet, though it covered the rest of her head and face, was specially designed to let her fin emerge from it to act as the crest on a more ordinary helm – while her face, the only part of her visible from beneath her all-encompassing suit of armour – was wan and a little too pale, like a drowned corpse; one of her eyes was blue, the other green, and both had a touch of mirth in them either at the expense of Michael or Pyrrha or perhaps them both. “I mean, if you like.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather that you didn’t,” Pyrrha murmured. “Just as I’d rather that you didn’t call me highness.” She had even less hope of him stopping than of Yatsuhashi; Michael had been calling her ‘your highness’ for years ever since they first crossed blades in the arena; she would have thought he was mocking her, but he always managed to sound so sincere when he said it.

“With all due honour, highness, I fear that I cannot oblige,” Michael said. “I could not disrespect a lady by failing to acknowledge her due titles.”

“Oh, yes you could,” Oceana said. She glanced at Pyrrha. “You know he’s nothing like this if you get him in private.”

“Yes, but we’re not in private are we?” Michael said. “Which means I have a reputation for old world courtesy to maintain.”

Of course this would be about his brand, wouldn’t it?

“Did you need something, Pyrrha?” asked Metella Vespal. A wasp faunus, Metella had four wings as fine as gossamer emerging from her back out of slits cut in the banded cuirass of black and gold she wore across her chest. Her eyes were golden, and her black hair was bound up tightly into a low bun at the nape of her neck. “Something sensible, perhaps.”

“There is nothing insensible about good manners and gentility,” Michael declared haughtily.

Pyrrha ignored him temporarily. “I was just seeing how you were doing, if there was anything that I could do for you?”

Michael bowed his head. “You are most gracious to inquire, princess, but we are quite content.”

“Stop it, for the love of the gods,” Oceana hissed.

“We were just discussing who might win this year’s tournament,” Esau said. “Since you and Arslan have both withdrawn, and we…” he spread his hands wide. “While none of us have officially announced our retirements…if the fighting continues at this tempo, there is hardly likely to be time.”

Pyrrha gestured to the empty chair at their table, and at a nod from Metella sat down. “If the fighting continues at this tempo,” she said, “then I would hope that this year’s tournament will be cancelled.”

Esau snorted. “You’ll be lucky, not with all that money at stake.”

“How about cancelled because it’s going to be a washout and a farce?” Oceana asked. “No Invincible Girl, no Golden Lion; dare I say no Mermaid Knight? Who’s left?”

“The White Wolf,” Metella said. “If she competes, she’ll take the victory this year.”

“In a field with no contenders, what kind of a victory is that?” Oceana replied. “Whoever wins will take no glory from it. They might as well put an asterisk next to their name for all that they will be called a true champion.”

“None of you would consider entering?” Pyrrha asked.

The gazes of the four tournament fighters became a little hard, their expressions somewhat offended.

“Your highness,” Michael said, a touch of sternness entering his voice. “It is true that we are all, in some degree, more actor than thou art. It is true we do not have such souls heroic as you do that we can wear a true face and be admired and well-beloved regardless. Yet nonetheless, we are not Atlesian hirelings to turn aside when the road darkens and brighter lights beckon behind, but warriors of Mistral, who have given their word and mean to keep it.”

“We may not have kissed your sword,” Oceana said, “but we pledged ours to you.”

“So long as Mistral has need of a defender, the Wasp shall stand for her,” Metella promised.

“Besides,” Esau said. “What is the paltry glory of an arena bereft of its two favourite daughters compared to the glory that you cast before us on the battlefield?”

“'Glory'?” Pyrrha repeated, slightly incredulous. “Is that what you think lies all around us.”

“Aye, highness,” Michael said. “Is it not so?”

“Great glory, greater than we have ever known in all our lives,” Oceana said. “Greater than we could ever win in our whole careers.”

“The stories that Autumn Blaze tells of these days will last as long as the kingdom, perhaps,” Esau said.

“And when your four championships are long forgotten,” Michael declared, “they will yet talk of how Pyrrha Nikos stood between the light of Mistral and the dark to keep the realm safe…and they will talk of the gallant band that stood arrayed about you, and our names will never be forgotten.”

Pyrrha was silent. She could not help but feel that they were at once quite right but at the same time doing this for completely the wrong reasons. She glanced at Metella, the only one who had not declared any great desire for her name to linger in immortal memory as a result of her deeds in these days.

Metella smiled. “Oh, you will get nothing like that from me. I am here for the kingdom…and because someone must keep an eye on these three.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “If there is nothing else, I will leave you to your evening,” she said, pushing her chair back and getting to your feet. She paused. “I cannot promise what history will say,” she said, “but I think that those whose lives you save will long remember you, if that is any comfort.”

“That they are able to remember is comfort enough,” Metella said softly. “Good evening, lady.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “You too?”

Metella shrugged. “It seems appropriate, in the circumstances.”

Arslan, standing all the way across the hall, was looking at Pyrrha in a slightly strange way... or at least she kept on glancing in Pyrrha's direction and then glancing away again, all with this slightly coy smile playing upon her face. It was strange enough to arouse Pyrrha's curiosity, and she began to make her way across the hall to where Arslan stood in the far doorway. She was intercepted along the way, however, by Autumn Blaze; Autumn was slightly older than most of the huntsmen gathered beneath Pyrrha's youth, but only by a few years, of average height but with long, rangy limbs so that she cut a slightly gangly figure; a dense mane of lush auburn hair surrounded a slightly swarthy face, from out of which a pair of large golden eyes gleamed eagerly as she approached, glass of water still in hand.

"Lady Pyrrha! Lady Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha stopped, a slight sigh escaping her lips. "Why does everyone feel the need to keep calling me that?"

Autumn's look became slightly incredulous for a moment. "Because you've got thirty warriors and a bard living under your roof; there are actual epic heroes who started off with less than that. You're a sword lord; get over it."

There was a certain unassailable bluntness to Autumn's logic, but that didn't stop Pyrrha from saying, "Is there any way that you could...stop acknowledging it regardless?"

"I could try? No promises," Autumn said. "Anyway, what I really wanted to say to you was congratulations!" she bounced eagerly up and down on the balls of her feet.

Pyrrha blinked. "The victories belong to everyone, not just to me."

Autumn looked strangely confused for a moment. "Wha- oh! Yes, yes, that is totally what I meant. Congratulations on all those...victories!" She laughed nervously. "Congratulations all round, fellas!"

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes!" Autumn cried loudly. "Everything's fine. Great! Anyway, speaking of victories, while we're on the subject, when am I going to get the footage? 'Cause you know I need to see what happened before I write it up for the blog."

"If you speak to Jaune, I'm sure he'll make you a copy," Pyrrha said. "Speaking of which, I don't suppose you've seen him."

"Uh, no," Autumn replied. "No, I have not, but when I do, I'll be sure to ask him about that video, thanks."

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Pyrrha asked.

"It's all good," Autumn assured her. "I mean, obviously, it's not all good, but I'm good I mean, so anyway, how are you?"

Pyrrha hesitated a moment before she said, for the benefit of anyone in the hall who might be listening, "I am quite content; I feel as though everything is going...as well as could be expected."

Autumn looked at her with a gleam of knowingness in her golden eyes. "Does the lady thing really bother you?"

"I..." Pyrrha paused, choosing her words with care so as not to give offence. "When you asked to come here and live with us and observe us...your blog is supposed to, amongst other things, show that we are not a threat to the kingdom; I worry at times that the emphasis you sometimes put upon my background runs counter to that."

"But it's one of the most dramatic parts of the story!" Autumn protested.

"Our situation isn't dramatic enough already?" Pyrrha asked, her tone slightly incredulous.

"I suppose," Autumn conceded. "But come on: the lost princess emerging from obscurity to save the kingdom in its hour of need! That's a hook! That's a story people want to hear the end of."

"Except that I was never lost," Pyrrha reminded her. "Or obscure for that matter." Although I sometimes wish I had been.

"And the masked man living beneath the opera stage was just an urban myth but I still won all the awards for a show about him," Autumn said. "That is why I'm the writer and you're the protagonist: because I understand that you can't always sweat the details. I can't just write about grimm attacks and bandit raids, and do you know why? Because people will just think about grimm attacks and bandit raids! Everyone knows that monsters exist; they need stories to teach them that monsters can be fought. People need heroes they can believe in more than they believe in monsters; they need a story they can believe in, and you've got the best one in the house."

"I'll have to take your word for that," Pyrrha said. After all, Autumn Blaze had as many theatre awards as Pyrrha had trophies, maybe more.

"You do that," Autumn said. "You got a request for when I go back up there?"

Pyrrha was quite partial to "All I Ask of You," but she was aware that she had not finished making the rounds yet. "Not at the moment, no."

"Suit yourself; I'm here all week," Autumn said, smiling as she turned away. "Congrats again! For your victories, I mean. Congratulations for the win, and nothing else."

Some people are behaving rather strangely tonight, Pyrrha thought to herself as she resumed her interrupted journey across the hall to where Arslan stood, leaning in the doorway that led down the steps to the kitchen.

She was still smiling. "I hope you don't expect me to call you Lady Pyrrha," she said.

"I'm rather glad you don't," Pyrrha replied.

"Good, because it's not going to happen any time soon," Arslan said. "Although...it can have its advantages."

"With the people?"

"With your enemies," Arslan explained. "It makes them underestimate you."

"Do you really think so?"

"I did," Arslan said, still with that smile on her face.

"What are you smiling at?" Pyrrha demanded.

"Me? Oh, nothing," Arslan said, as though she hadn't even noticed that she was smiling and was now having to make a conscious effort to stop. "How's the mood?"

"As varied as the people," Pyrrha murmured. She moved to stand opposite Arslan, the two of them together blocking up the doorway coming from the kitchen. "Where are Bolin and Nadir?" Why are you all alone?

"They went to help Ren and Nora down in the kitchen," Arslan said. "I think. When they get back, I'll move out of their way." She scowled. "Nadir should have led the team instead of me."

Pyrrha tilted her head slightly sideways. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he's smarter than I am," Arslan replied. "My head was too big to see it at the time, but I never deserved to lead a team. With...with what you say about Lionheart, I wonder if he was just crippling the team by choosing a bad leader."

"I think you might be being too hard on yourself," Pyrrha said.

Arslan’s look was hard. “We’ve talked already about you patronising me, Pyrrha.”

“I wasn’t-”

“I got Reese killed,” Arslan said stonily. “My teammate, and she’s dead because of me.”

“The grimm killed Reese,” Pyrrha said. “Our enemy killed Reese.”

“Oh, sure, because you never blame yourself for any of the things that our enemies have done, do you?” Arslan asked acidly. “If Nadir had led…he could hardly have done worse, could he? No wonder he and Bolin don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Is that really true?” Pyrrha asked. “Or is it that you want nothing to do with them?”

Arslan’s nose twitched. “Either way. I got Reese killed, I got Nadir wounded, I was a terrible leader. I was set up to be a terrible leader from the start.”

"I...I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “Even...even if you weren’t the best choice, I'm not sure I'd call that treachery. I would call it...Mistral."

Arslan looked up at her. "You’re saying he didn't pick me because he thought I couldn't do it; he picked me because I was a big name tournament celebrity? That...doesn’t make me feel much better, to be honest."

"I'm sure a lot of people would have been very surprised if you hadn't been made the leader of your team," Pyrrha suggested. "We do love our heroes in this kingdom."

"Even if they're only make-believe heroes," Arslan muttered. "It doesn’t really matter whether Lionheart picked me because he wanted to screw us over or he picked me because he wanted an easy life, Reese is still dead because he chose wrong. Because I was only a make-believe hero. Is that one of the reasons you chose Beacon, because you knew that Haven would roll out the red carpet for Pyrrha Nikos, Champion of Mistral?"

"I hoped that, even if my reputation preceded me there, the teachers at Beacon wouldn't be blinded by it in a way that I feared the Haven faculty might be," acknowledged Pyrrha. And I was more or less proven right in that. "Arslan, do you believe that there is glory waiting for us in this?"

The smile returned to Arslan's face, if it was touched by a slightly sardonic edge. "Yes, I saw you talking to those four just a moment ago," she said, jabbing her thumb towards their fellow ex-tournament fighters. "That's their take on things I suppose?"

"Less so Metella," Pyrrha murmured. "But Michael, Oceana and Esau, certainly. They think that they will win greater glory here than ever they won in the arena."

"That's because they don't have to worry about you or me coming between them and their ambitions, now that we're all facing in the same direction," Arslan muttered.

"I'm being serious," Pyrrha declared.

"You think I'm not?" Arslan asked.

"Do you think they're right?"

Arslan's eyes narrowed. "Are you asking me if I'm here for the fame and the glory?"

"No," Pyrrha assured her. "I just want to know what you think about it?"

"I think they might be right," Arslan conceded. "It's just a little hard for us to see or say because...we're both past caring, aren't we? You especially. You've been past caring for a long time. When did the tournaments stop thrilling you?"

"In the third year," Pyrrha said. "I realised...I realised that I hated the idea of losing more than I liked the idea of winning. I...I wanted to do something more meaningful than play to the crowd."

"And I thought you were so full of yourself for that," Arslan admitted. "But now...now I get it. What you were doing at Beacon mattered; what we're doing here matters in ways our trophy cabinets never could. We're doing something for Mistral."

Pyrrha nodded. "For Mistral. All of it for Mistral."

"For Mistral...and for Reese,” Arslan said. "I was only a make-believe hero when she needed the real thing, but I’ll be the real thing now, in her memory.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “You will. Have a good evening.”

Arslan’s lips twitched upwards. “Not so good an evening as you’re about to have, I’ll bet.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Arslan said, a little too casually. “Just...a hunch.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “I see.” She didn’t, of course, but what else was she supposed to say to something like that? She considered going down into the kitchen to speak with Ren and Nora, but there were still two teams in the hall that she hadn't checked up on yet, and she didn't want them to feel as though they were unwanted or unvalued by her, and so she turned away from Arslan and made her towards the centre of the hall, where Team VLCA, pronounced Volcano, were gathered with their heads together around one of their number, Cicero Ward, and the book that was open on the table in front of him. Actually, Pyrrha saw as she drew nearer, it wasn't a book; at least it was not bound. A manuscript?

"Is one of you a writer?" Pyrrha asked, as she circled around the table.

The four members of the team look up at her, amusement in the faces of all but Cicero, around whom the rest of them stood.

Lily Cornelia was not the youngest member of the team, but the combination of blonde hair braided in pigtails and an innocent look in her clear blue eyes combined to make her look younger than her nineteen years; that, in turn, made the way that she had tied up her flannel shirt to expose her midriff seem a little racier than it really was. She had her hands on her hips, one of them also holding onto a broad-brimmed hat. "It's a letter," she explained. "From Cicero's father."

Pyrrha's eyes widened just a little. A letter? Leaving aside the question of why Councillor Ward would send his son a letter when they lived in the same city, that still left the fact that this letter was the size of a book.

"It has a title," Rufus August informed her. He was physically the largest of Team VLCA, and so he stood directly over Cicero, and in his plate - only his helm removed, revealing a broad face and a shock of red hair - he loomed over all three of his other team-mates. "And chapters."

"Why don't we all be honest?" Cicero sighed. He had a handsome face, marred by a prominent and sizable mole on his right cheek, and dark eyes matching his hair. "He's going to publish this after a discrete interval." He must have noticed Pyrrha's continuing confusion, because he explained further, "The title is On Nobility."

"Ah," Pyrrha said, understanding now. "It's a mirror for princes." It was far from uncommon for works in that genre - an admixture of philosophical treatise and etiquette, setting out the best way to live and to conduct oneself - to be couched in terms of a letter, often to the author's son or daughter, although she had never seen one actually sent as a letter before.

"We’re speculating on what it might mean that he felt the need to write us a primer on proper behaviour and send it to us," declared Violet Valeria, the team leader. Her brown hair was worn in a pageboy cut, and her eyes were as violet as her name; violet too - with blue highlights - was the flexible, utilitarian armour that embraced her form. She was one of Pyrrha's two lieutenants - Sun being the other - who might command in Pyrrha's absence if it was necessary to split the force in two.

"I...perhaps he simply wishes to offer you some encouragement?" Pyrrha suggested. Cicero's father sat on the Mistral Council; in fact, he was the only friend they had on the Mistral Council, where he spoke in their defence against those who were...not so enthused about what Pyrrha and her friends were doing. He was a much-needed ally, even if he wasn’t able to persuade his fellow councillors to do anything to defend the kingdom that might have made Pyrrha and her company redundant. She had to admit that she found it a little odd that he had felt the need to pen this missive to his son now, although it was not without precedent. “I’m sure it means nothing negative. After all, the Councillor is working within an old and august literary tradition.”

"Even so, listen to this," Cicero said, as he opened up the tome his father had sent him. He cleared his throat and read out, "'Not for ourselves alone are we born; our country, our friends, each have some share in us.'"

"Your father writes well, and wisely," Pyrrha said softly.

“He’s always had a way with words,” Cicero agreed, “but why did he feel like he had to tell me that now? What does he think we’re doing here, except honouring the share our country has in us?”

“And our friends too,” Lily added, placing a hand on Cicero’s shoulder.

“At the risk of sounding unbearably arrogant, do we not already model the kind of nobility he writes of?” Rufus asked.

“My father has very high standards,” Cicero said.

“Impossibly high,” Rufus muttered. “Why doesn’t he send this to his friends on the council? They might actually learn a few things.”

"They have much to learn," Violet declared. "It is no shame for the farmer or the crofter to leave their security to our protection; all of us," she seemed to be referring to her team, although the net could have encompassed Pyrrha or others, "came to train as huntresses, that we might be the shields of Mistral and stand between her and her enemies, feral or otherwise. But it is a great shame when those who claim to rule this land do nothing to defend it and we who wish to do so must walk the edge of law for it."

Pyrrha nodded. "Your thoughts mirror my own." She glanced into the eyes of each of them in turn. "Does it trouble you, walking the edge of law as Violet puts it?"

"Laws are only made by men," Rufus declared. "And so, they can be as unjust as men can be. There are times when there are more important things than living within the law."

"We haven't broken the law yet," Lily reminded him.

"Is that you saying you'd leave if we did?" Rufus asked.

"No!" Lily said firmly. "I was just saying."

"If we haven't broken the law yet, I don't intend to start now," Pyrrha assured them both.

"Unless the law is changed," Cicero said.

"Do you think it will come to that?" Pyrrha asked.

Cicero spread his hands helplessly. "I cannot say. My father does his best, but he is but one voice and one vote in a chamber of five, and there are some who are no friends of ours."

Pyrrha knew that well enough, for she, too, had heard it from Councillor Ward’s own lips when they had last spoken. The Mistralian Council consisted of only five seats - presently occupied by Lord Thrax, the Steward; Professor Lionheart; Cicero Ward the Elder; Timur Kiyat and Lady Ming - and, from what she had been told, no proposal that went before them could command majority support during the deliberations of the council. Although a plethora of options lay before them, it seemed as though everything failed three votes to two through a shifting kaleidoscope of combinations: Lord Thrax and Lady Ming favoured a prohibition against all unauthorised armed combinations, but Ward, Timur, and Lionheart - though why he did so was a question that Pyrrha struggled to answer - opposed it; Lady Ming and Timur favoured an embargo on foodstuffs exports that would provoke a confrontation with Atlas, but Ward, Lionheart, and Lord Thrax opposed it; Councillor Ward had proposed sending out the council’s own huntsmen to protect the outlying settlements, but though he had been supported by Timur, he had been opposed by Lionheart, Lord Thrax, and Lady Ming. The only thing, it seemed, that all the councillors agreed upon was that they disagreed with everyone about something.

"Whatever befalls," Violet said,. "we are here for Mistral...and for you, while you carry the honour of this kingdom."

"It's a privilege to fight alongside you," Lily said. "And to be a part of all this."

"The honour is mine, for all I wish it wasn't necessary," Pyrrha replied. "I'll leave you to your reading."

Cicero snorted. "Thank you."

Team JAMM was the last group in the hall with whom Pyrrha had not spoken, and so it was to their table that Pyrrha went next - and last, before she went down to the kitchens. She couldn't see their team leader at first, before she spotted him lying with his head in Medea's lap while she ran one hand through his hair, a playful smile upon her lips. Atalanta, on the other hand, had turned away from the rest of her team in what almost looked like disgust, while Meleager tried to catch her attention.

"Is everything alright?" Pyrrha asked, as she approached.

Jason sat up hastily, looking a little embarrassed at the position she had caught him in. Medea did not look ashamed in the least.

"Yes, my lady," Jason said. "All is very well, thank you."

Pyrrha didn't even bother trying to correct him. "You all fought very well today."

"Medea fought well," Jason said. "The rest of us just watched in awe, as always."

"Speak for yourself," Atalanta snapped, shifting in her chair so that she was a part of the conversation. "I shot seven men today, and more beowolves."

"You all fought well," Pyrrha repeated. "I feel as though I owe you all an apology; the emergency has lasted longer than I hoped it would."

"And what of that, lady?" Jason asked. "Some adventures are brief, but the grandest go on for longer."

"An adventure?" Pyrrha repeated. I'm afraid this stopped feeling like an adventure for me some time ago.

"Is it not so?" Jason asked. "With the unknown before us and a kingdom at stake?"

"Like the hunt for the Kaledonian Boarbatusk," Meleager explained. "Only there are hordes of them."

"This is no adventure; this is the life we chose when we came to Haven," Medea said. She looked up at Pyrrha, blue eyes tinted with violet staring up at her. "Isn't that right, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I don't believe the struggle against the grimm will ever truly end, but that is not to say that things will always be as intense as they are. That I do not believe."

"Either way, our lives will be spent in battle," Medea said.

"In some form," Pyrrha allowed. "But do not discount how easy it is to find happiness in the space between battle." She glanced at Jason.

Medea followed her gaze and smiled as she draped one arm around him. An engagement ring glimmered upon her slender finger. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I’ve seen Jaune around this evening...I think we're both very fortunate in that fact, aren't we?"

"Either we will triumph and live, triumph but perish, or we will die and fail utterly," Atalanta said. "Which will befall us is in the lap of the Goddess."

"If that is true, then what price effort?" Pyrrha asked. It was the same problem that she had with Sunset's notion of a fixed, immutable destiny.

"The Goddess will judge us," Atalanta said, "but we may sway her judgement with valour, and determination."

It still seemed a somewhat bleak prognosis to Pyrrha, but nevertheless, she said, "Then I am sure that you swayed her with what you did today. Good evening, I will not disturb you further."

"Don't be too concerned by Atalanta's gloom," Meleager told her, as she turned away. "Our ancestors overcame all monsters, grimm and cthonic alike, to found this city; we will do the same to protect it."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "I hope so," she said, as she headed towards the kitchens. Arslan had departed from her post in the doorway - Pyrrha hadn't seen or heard her go - leaving the doorway empty, and the staircase down into the kitchen a dark and throat-like tunnel leading down into the gullet of a great beast. So at least Pyrrha had thought, when she was a little girl; now, she knew it was just a badly lit staircase, but one down which she walked without fear for the few moments it took before she emerged into the well-lit kitchen at the other side. The kitchen was large, but largely empty at the same time, with only Ren and Nora that Pyrrha could see, working side by side...well, Ren was working, Nora possibly less so. The sound of a knife on a chopping board alternated with the sound of chewing, and Pyrrha could guess which one was Ren and which was Nora.

"I thought that Bolin and Nadir were down here," Pyrrha said, as she looked around but failed to see them.

"They were here," Ren said, without looking around.

"But now they're not," Nora finished for him. "Did you need them for something?"

"No, not especially," Pyrrha said. She watched Ren's back as he worked. "This is a lot to take on by yourself."

"It isn't so much," Ren assured her. "And besides, I...owe it you."

Pyrrha frowned. "You don't owe me anything, not with all the assistance that you already give me."

"I...disagree," Ren said, prompting a snort from Nora.

Pyrrha blinked. "Is everything okay?"

Nora folded her arms. Ren still didn't turn around. "Everything is...fine."

"No, it isn't," Nora said.

"Nora-"

"If you're going to leave, then you ought to tell her first," Nora snapped.

Pyrrha took a step back. "You're...leaving?"

Ren sighed aggrievedly, and now at last he turned around. He had let his hair grow out these last few months; it was longer and shaggier than it had been at Beacon, like the wild mane of some noble beast. "I was just wondering - in private," he glared at Nora. "- if it might be time for the two of us to move on."

"Time to...but I need you," Pyrrha said, the words coming out of her mouth before she realised how selfish they were. "Mistral needs you," she added, which was both true and sounded so much better.

"It's for you and Mistral that it might be best if we went away," Ren replied.

“What?” Pyrrha said, incredulously. “But…I don’t understand.”

Ren stared at her for a moment, before he bowed his head in a kind of surrender. “Coming here…was a mistake.”

Pyrrha frowned. "Ren, you're not making any sense."

Ren closed his eyes. “All those stories, the ones that Nora tells, all those wacky adventures, did you never wonder why we had such…unconventional childhoods?”

Pyrrha murmured. “I assumed…I didn’t want to make an issue of it. You never confirmed, and I…I don’t think anybody wanted to be so crude or cruel as to bring up an issue that neither of you seemed to want to talk about.”

“Thank you,” Nora whispered.

“But it’s exactly what you think,” Ren said. “I was born in the village of Kuroyuri. Have you heard of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha admitted, “but I can imagine what happened.”

“Villages destroyed by the grimm are so common,” Ren said, with unveiled bitterness in his voice. “When you asked me – asked us – to join you, I thought that…I thought that perhaps I could help spare other places from suffering…other children from suffering the way that I suffered.”

“And you have,” Pyrrha said. “Elis, Leuctris, Xiangxi, Ilium, villages and towns still standing in part because of you. I don’t understand why you’re talking this way when you’re doing so much good.” She glanced at Nora for help, but the other girl, normally so exuberant, seemed powerless to help her with this.

“I thought I was doing good at Beacon, too,” Ren declared.

“And you were.”

“Don’t you understand?” Ren demanded. “Kuroyuri, Beacon, everywhere that I call home is overrun by grimm! It’s like I’m cursed. But that can’t happen here; what you’re doing is too important for me to put it at risk.”

“Risk how?” Pyrrha demanded. “Magic is real, I know that very well, but Professor Ozpin didn’t say anything about curses or about every superstition having a grain of truth behind it.”

“If there’s no truth to it, then why did the grimm leave me alive?” Ren asked. “Why was I spared, when no one else was?”

Nora’s eyes were wide, her face horrified. “Is that…is that what you’re thought this entire time? All the time we’ve…been together?”

Such guilt…have you wept all this while, letting no one see?

Ren turned away. “Nora-“

“You IDIOT!” Nora screeched, grabbing him by the arm and yanking Ren around so that he was facing her again, right before she slapped him across the face. “Is that what you really think? Do you really think that you’re so special that the grimm have been following you for years, just waiting for you to settle down so they can screw with you again?”

“I-“

“And what about me, huh?” Nora demanded. “I was there in Kuroyuri too; how do you know I’m not the one who’s cursed?”

“Because that would mean blaming you!” Ren snapped. “And I…I can’t do that. I won’t do it. Not you, Nora; never you.”

“So you’d rather blame yourself?” Nora asked. “It sounds to me like you know that this whole thing is a load of nonsense from start to finish.”

Ren was silent for a moment. “Why did I deserve to survive?” he asked. “Why was I the only one who deserved to survive? Why do I deserve to live on and be happy? When we came to Beacon, I thought that maybe we could make a new home there, with Yang. But now Yang’s dead. Why do I deserve to live, to move on to put another home at risk, while she’s gone?”

“Maybe…maybe you don’t,” Nora said, with an honesty that Pyrrha found to be quite brutal. “Maybe I don’t. Maybe we both deserved to die in Kuroyuri. Maybe…I can’t honestly tell you that we deserve to live more than Yang. She had a sister and a family to live for, people who cared about her. Maybe…maybe if the world was fair, then we would have died, and she’d be alive, and Ruby wouldn’t be broken by losing her sister. But we both know that the world isn’t fair…and maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe we don’t have to deserve a home to have one. Maybe we don’t have to deserve happiness to find it…together.”

She stared imploringly into Ren’s eyes. Pyrrha frowned. Was there…did Nora…she had always thought of them as having a bond like brother and sister, but the way that Nora was looking at him now…it made her wonder.

But does he feel the same way?

Ren turned away from her. “I don’t know what I should do,” he admitted.

“And I will not tell you,” Pyrrha said gently. “But, for myself, I would rather have you by my side and risk a curse, than be free of a curse and not have you two fighting beside me.”

“Nora-“ Ren began.

“Where you go, I go,” Nora said, quietly but as firmly as a stone wall. “Remember the faces? The faces of the people we protect? Remember how glad they are to see us? Are you really going to walk away from that because you’re afraid? Because of superstition?”

“If I bring-“

“If the grimm can reach us here,” Pyrrha said, “then I think we have more important problems to worry about.”

Ren was silent for a moment, before he said. “I’m sorry. This must all seem…very ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha said. “I, um,” - she suddenly felt very awkward, out of place in this scene that only belonged to Ren and Nora - “I should go.” she said, turning around and heading back in the direction in which she had come. A certain sense of relief stole over her as she left the kitchen; towards the end there, she had felt voyeuristic, an intruder on someone else’s grief and intimacy. Her steps were quick back up to the hall.

“Pyrrha, wait!” Nora cried, as she shut the kitchen door on Ren and stumbled after Pyrrha, coming a halt a few steps below her.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I should have left earlier.”

Nora shook her head. “I…you telling him you wanted him here, it helped. He needed to hear it.”

“I said it because it is true,” Pyrrha said softly.

“I know,” Nora replied. “But thanks anyway.” She stopped, and looked away for a moment. A blush began to spread across her face. “So…Pyrrha…there’s something else that I was meaning to ask you…”

Pyrrha took a step down, a step closer to Nora. “Yes, Nora?”

“How…how did you get Jaune to like you?” Nora asked.

Pyrrha was speechless for a moment. “Jaune?”

“Yeah,” Nora said, sounding a little embarrassed about this whole situation. “I mean, he was pretty clueless, right? I could tell you liked him, but he…and then it’s like you did something to flip a switch in his head, so what did you do?”

“I…started wearing eyeshadow?” Pyrrha suggested.

The two of them stared at one another for a moment, before sniggers of laughter escaped from both of their lips.

“Yeah,” Nora said. “I’m sure that was what put you over the top.”

“You asked me what I did,” Pyrrha reminded her. “I…I don’t know what changed with Jaune; maybe you should talk to him?”

“Oh, I’ve talked to Jaune,” Nora said, in a very knowing tone that left Pyrrha feeling a little confused, even more so than this conversation. “But what I need to know is-“

“How can you flip a switch in Ren’s head?” Pyrrha suggested.

Nora sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Actually, I’d say you hide it very well,” Pyrrha told her. “At least until just now. Do you…love him?”

“Do I?” Nora repeated. “He’s my whole world! I’d do anything for him. But sometimes…I don’t know if he cares about me at all.”

“I’m sure he does,” Pyrrha assured her. “Ren is…a very private person, after all.” Tonight was the first time she’d ever heard him talk about himself, let alone in such frank terms.

“But it’s me,” Nora said. “And he still won’t…” She groaned, and beat her head against the wall. “What am I supposed to do? I’d tell him how I feel, but…what if he doesn’t feel the same way? Things could never be the same between us, could they?”

“I…suppose not,” Pyrrha conceded. That’s what I was afraid of, after all. “But…I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”

Nora shook her head. “Men are blockheads, aren’t they?”

Pyrrha smiled. “But we love them anyway. I can’t help you…but I wish you luck.”

Nora saluted with two fingers, flicking through her bangs from the side of her temple. “Good luck to you too, Pyrrha.” She winked, although Pyrrha wasn’t sure why and didn’t feel entirely comfortable asking.

Nora turned away, and as she went back into the kitchen Pyrrha turned away too, climbing the steps back into the hall.

Her mother was waiting for her there.

“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said. “There are certain matters which I need to discuss with you.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Of course, Mother.”

Her mother's leg was feeling better tonight, Pyrrha observed, as she followed her mother out of the hall and back up the stairways that she had only recently descended; she was walking without the aid of her cane, as she had done about a year ago. It came and it went, but she was glad for mother's sake that it was going rather than coming at the moment.

"Walk beside me," Lady Nikos said sharply. "Do not follow; it makes you seem subservient."

"Oh, of course, Mother," Pyrrha said, as she quickened her - deliberately slow - steps so that she was walking by her mother's side, not trailing behind her.

"In these past few months, you have become someone worthy of our line," Lady Nikos declared. "You have no need to walk behind anyone in Mistral."

Pyrrha tilted her head downwards just a little. "I am grateful for your support of this venture, but I do this because I must, not because I am a Nikos."

"They follow you because you are a Nikos," Lady Nikos said.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha admitted. "But their reasons need not be mine. I do this because I must."

"Why must you do it except because you are a Nikos?"

"Because I was chosen for it," Pyrrha replied, "and whatever Professor Ozpin's reasons, I do not think my ancestry had anything to do with it."

"No, it was for your skill in combat," Lady Nikos acknowledged, "but what is that but the flowering of our line's glory and valour in you?"

"Mother," Pyrrha said sharply. "It is bad enough that lords and councillors of this city are so self-interested, so neglectful of the common good that they spend more time worrying that I am going to stage a coup with the help of my comrades than they do worrying about the outlying villages living under the threat of destruction; must you and so many others here feed their baseless fears and make them seem less than groundless by piling on pretensions that I did not ask for? I do this because the kingdom requires it, not because I seek power."

"Have you considered that if you had power, the needs of the kingdom might not require such actions as yours?" Lady Nikos asked.

Pyrrha sighed. "What do you mean, Mother?"

Lady Nikos looked at Pyrrha out of the corner of her eyes. "Nothing, at present," she conceded to Pyrrha's reluctance. "It is merely something for you to bear in mind."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. "Thank you, Mother," she said. Thank you for dropping the subject, for now.

She and her mother walked together into her mother's study, where Pyrrha waited until her mother had walked around the desk and taken her seat before she sat down in her turn. She clasped her hands together in her lap and waited for her mother to speak her mind.

"That man," Lady Nikos said pointedly, and with evident disapproval in her voice.

Pyrrha had no need to ask who 'that man' was. She squirmed slightly with discomfort on her chair. "I know that Mister Branwen's behaviour is not as we might hope-"

"Mister Branwen's conduct shames you," Lady Nikos declared, "and your noble enterprise besides."

"I think that you exaggerate, Mother. I doubt most people in Mistral know who he is, let alone that he is connected with me."

"You think that the police officers from whom you extracted him have not talked?" Lady Nikos asked. "The behaviour of the guest reflects on the host, you know this."

"I know that we in Mistral are sometimes too swift to judge a man's worth by his manners," Pyrrha replied.

"What has your Mister Branwen given me to judge him by but his ill-manners?" Lady Nikos said. "When he came here, you told me that he was a seasoned huntsman of great skill, and a confidant of Ozpin besides."

"He is."

"Then when will we see some sign of it?" Lady Nikos demanded. "Mistral is under siege, you and your companions - barely more than children - fight to hold back the darkness that surrounds us, and meanwhile, this man, this trained huntsman of such renown, sits safely here within the city, indulging his fondness for strong drink."

"He is in grief," Pyrrha said. "It is sadness, not idleness, that drives him. He has lost a teacher and a mentor-"

"So have you," Lady Nikos said.

"To say nothing of a niece who was as a daughter to him," Pyrrha finished. "He has reason to grieve, does he not?" Although I cannot deny that we could use his help, at the same time, I cannot begrudge him his desire to forget all his losses. "He is Ruby's uncle, and he has nowhere else to go. I cannot turn him out of doors, mother, I will not."

"I did not say you should," Lady Nikos replied, her voice quiet but not soft.

"What then?" Pyrrha asked.

Lady Nikos was quiet for a moment. "How is your own grief?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "Nothing compared to his."

"That is not what I asked," Lady Nikos said, and now her voice did soften. "You cared for your professor."

Pyrrha nodded. "You may say that my qualities are but the flowering of our royal race," she said, "but I...I prefer to think that Professor Ozpin saw something in me that went beyond my name of Nikos." Just as he saw something in Ruby and Sunset and Jaune, who have no names at all. "Barely a day passes when I do not wish for his wisdom, his humanity, his faith in the humanity of others...his confidence that all would be well...and his confidence in me. He trusted me, and yet, I fear I...I'm only doing the most obvious thing and missing all the things he would have seen at once."

"You hide it well," Lady Nikos said.

"I..." Pyrrha sighed. "I have very little time to mourn or miss my friends; it doesn't mean that I don't mourn or miss them."

"No, but that is precisely my point," Lady Nikos said. "You coddle that man too much. I do not doubt his sorrows, but work will help him past them better than self-indulgence. You must put him to work, and he will thank you for it in the end."

Pyrrha looked her mother in the eyes. "Is that what you did?" she asked. "When Father died?"

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. "It is what I have done," she said. "All these years since."

"Mother-"

"I give you notice, whatever you decide, that I will not much longer tolerate Mister Branwen's current behaviour," Lady Nikos said, the sharpness of her tone indicating her desire to move on. "There was something else that we must discuss, namely the family finances."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured. She was aware that her activities were not cheap - Nora, showing surprising skill as a haggler, had gotten her a good deal on the airships, but that hadn't made them cheap; then there was the hire on the landing pads, and the MARS weapons they used to fortify the villages were not inexpensive either - so that, for the first time in many years, the expenses of the family had outstripped the income from their rents and interests, and they were barely out of the first quarter. At the moment, they had substantial savings and investments to fall back on - Lady Nikos' decision to keep all her money in Mistral now seemed very prudent in light the collapse of the CCT, although the condition of the world also meant the stock portfolio was worth a lot less than had recently been the case - but how long would that last if things continued as they were? "How bad is it?"

"Miss Altan's fund-raising activities have helped somewhat," Lady Nikos said. "Nevertheless, if the cost of your venture continues at its current rate, our savings will be consumed by the end of the year."

Pyrrha could not entirely restrain a gasp. That quickly? Mind you, if things were still carrying on like this by the end of the year, they might have other things to worry about besides money. "The stocks?"

"Most of them are nearly worthless at the moment, and who will say when the market will recover?" Lady Nikos said.

Pyrrha nodded. She and her mother had already discussed economies that they could make within the household, but they were both reluctant to start dismissing staff; in the current climate, it might be hard for them to find other positions, and that seemed a rather cold and unbecoming response. "I...I will ask Neptune to speak to his mother and ask her again to help share the burden of our activities. And I...I will go and speak to Turnus and ask for his help." She was not looking forward to it, but she would not send anyone else to do this for her, even if she could have done so without it seeming like an insult. "And...you will not like this, Mother, but I think we must consider selling some of our family heirlooms."

Lady Nikos's eyebrows rose. "You wish to sell our history?"

"Our history cannot be taken away from us," Pyrrha replied, "but the house is full of relics and trinkets that are of no use to us but which might fund the defence of so many settlements. I...I'm sorry, and I wouldn't suggest if it the needs of Mistral were not great-"

"But the need of Mistral is great," Lady Nikos said, "and what are antiques against a kingdom and its people?" For a moment, she almost seemed to smile. "Very well. I will invite the appraisers to call upon us and see what there is in the house that I can bring myself to part with."

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said. "I really do appreciate all that you're doing for me, and for Mistral."

"You are my daughter," Lady Nikos said, "and you have become so much more than I ever hoped you could be. How can I do other than I have done? How is the mood amongst your companions?"

"Some want the fighting to be over," Pyrrha said. "Others want it to continue so that they may win more renown in it."

"And you?"

"I would see this kingdom made safe," Pyrrha replied. "Or at least as safe as any kingdom can be in this perilous world. Will that be all?"

"Yes," Lady Nikos said. "I am very proud of you."

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said, as she got to her feet and took her leave of her mother, closing the study door behind her as she stood in the corridor, her eyes flickering over the tapestries that hung from the walls, the antique suits of armour, the ornate vases resting on their plinths. It had all been here for as long as she could remember; none of it was new. She had grown up with the house looking just this way, filled with just these things that had been passed down through generations from the days of the monarchy. And now...soon some, perhaps most or even all of these things that had for all her life formed the tapestry of her home, would be gone.

It was sad, but the kingdom came first; lives came first. This was a decision, she was sure, that Professor Ozpin would have approved of.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha turned, to see Jaune standing a little way down the hallway, looking at her.

"Jaune," she murmured.

"Is everything okay?" Jaune asked, as he began to walk - a little awkwardly - down the hall towards her.

Pyrrha said, "Mother has just agreed to sell some of our family heirlooms, to raise money for the cause."

Jaune's eyes widened a little. "Pyrrha, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Pyrrha said.

"No, it isn't," Jaune said. "It might be the right thing to do, but that doesn't make it fine."

"Perhaps not," Pyrrha conceded. "But it has to be done. Others...they've made far greater sacrifices, haven't they?"

"I suppose so," Jaune murmured. He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked away for a moment. "Marry me, Pyrrha."

He had spoken so softly and so suddenly that, for a moment, Pyrrha thought she must have misheard him, her strong desire playing tricks upon her mind. "What did you say?"

Jaune looked at her, and as he pulled his hands out of the pockets of his jeans, she saw that he had a ring! He had a ring in his hand! The sapphire gleamed atop the band of gold, and the fact that it was in Jaune's hand and that he meant to place it upon her finger, made it the most beautiful ring Pyrrha had ever seen.

"I'm sorry it took so long," he said.

Pyrrha gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Jaune..."

"I thought..." Jaune said. "I thought that I would need to make some grand gesture, or that I ought to wait until things had calmed down. I didn’t know what to do, so I went around asking people for advice: Arslan, Sun and Neptune, Autumn, Nora-”

“Oh my god, just do it!” Nora yelled. “Just...just do something, say something, to let her know that you actually care about her! Do it before she starts to wonder if she actually matters to you at all, and if she might just be wasting her life on somebody who barely even notices that you’re standing there and you’ve been standing there this entire time!”

Jaune took a step backwards. “Are...are we still talking about me and Pyrrha?”

Nora sighed, her whole body sagging forwards. “She doesn’t care how you do it, Jaune. Pyrrha doesn’t need you to put on a musical number or find the most beautiful spot in all of Mistral or recreate her parents’ marriage proposal; she just needs you to show her that you care, as much as she does.”

“I think Nora actually gave me the best advice of anyone,” Jaune admitted. “I was so nervous because I thought that my proposal needed to be as perfect as you are but...but the truth is...the truth is the only thing matters is that I love you, Pyrrha Nikos; you're my whole world, and I...I don't know what's going to happen next. I don't know if...and I don't want you to-"

Pyrrha, who had closed the distance between them while he was babbling, put one finger to his lips. She smiled, and if her smile reflected her happiness, then surely it was as bright as the sun by now. "You had me at 'marry me.'"

Jaune stared at her. His whole body trembled. "So...that's a yes?"

"Yes!" Pyrrha cried, as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. "Yes, I will marry you, Jaune Arc."

She held out her hand, as Jaune slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.

Author's Note

The characters of Hector, Alkim and Lauren were created by Cody Fett and Cyclone for their fic Spark to Spark, Dust to Dust - which you will probably enjoy if you're still liking this story - alongside a fourth character who was not suitable for use by me. Although I came up with the names for Team VLCA some time ago, the physical descriptions and some of the personality details were also developed by Cody and Cyclone.

Acquaintances, Old and New

Acquaintances, Old and New

Pyrrha stood alone at the gates that barred the way to the house of the Rutulus family. The house - the entire compound, really - was very similar in form to her own estate, save that it was set a little higher up the hill: surrounded by a wall and barred to her by gates as it was, nevertheless the top of the house was visible to her, tall and high-ceilinged as it was, with windows marking several storeys upwards from the ground. A banner, marked with the family symbol of a tiger butterfly, fluttered from a modest tower rising from the roof alongside a second flag bearing the tiger's head symbol of Rutulian Security.

Pyrrha hesitated, on the wrong side of the gate; she would have to make her presence known at some point - she needed Turnus' help, his martial and financial support - but she did not want to do so. She had never truly liked Turnus, not even when they were children, and that feeling of dislike had only increased after he came back from Atlas with an ill reputation and plans for her that she wanted no part in. And yet it could not be avoided: he was one of the wealthiest lords in the city, and just as importantly, he had men under arms whom Mistral - and Pyrrha herself - could use the aid of.

She wished she could be more certain of her ability to persuade him to render her that aid.

She wished she could be certain that he would not ask a price too great for her to pay in return.

Pyrrha glanced down at the engagement ring that glimmered on her finger; the band of gold and the sapphire set upon the gold both seemed particularly bright against the black of her glove. It was so beautiful, in her eyes the most beautiful ring that any girl ever received. She would not wear it into battle - she would not take the risk of losing it in some muddy field - but, though she was presently armed for war, she was not expecting physical difficulties here. She continued to look down at the ring, taking courage from it and a little strength as well, before she raised her hand towards the intercom button that jutted out of the rough stone wall beside the gate.

Before she could actually press the button, the gate began to move of its own accord, rolling sideways with a rumbling sound as it slid behind the wall, leaving the gateway open for Pyrrha. She stood for a moment, looking for some sign of whoever had opened the gate for her and finding none. She walked in, and scarcely had she entered the courtyard when the gate began to close behind her, sliding back into place with a rumble and the click of a lock. Pyrrha paid no mind as she advanced upon the house, Miló and Akoúo̱ upon her back and hands held rigidly by her side. The house of the Rutulus family was surrounded by no gardens as her own house was - no cherry trees blossomed here - rather, the courtyard was grey and austere and wholly paved over, a mustering yard for Turnus' forces quartered in the outbuildings that surrounded the main house. The only commonality between the two was in the statues, as monuments to Turnus' ancestors dotted the courtyard just as Pyrrha's filled up the gardens of her home. No family that laid any claim to status would be without them.

The great black doors into the house opened at Pyrrha's approach, parting towards her with a grind of hinges as they were pushed open by the man who emerged from between the two, throwing his arms out wide on either side as he walked towards her. "Pyrrha!" he cried. "Pyrrha, it's so good to see you again."

Pyrrha put on the mask of the champion of Mistral, and smiled. "Likewise, Turnus," she said, holding out her arms for an embrace in turn, if less widely or enthusiastically as he.

Turnus Rutulus was a man in his early twenties, tall and dark with his hair - streaked with red, like embers burning amidst cold coals - curling in ringlets down his back and behind his ears. He was dressed in a long red tunic that went down almost to his knees but left his arms and lower legs bare; a long and heavy-bladed sword was buckled on his waist by a studded belt.

They met, and Pyrrha allowed Turnus to embrace her and pretended not to notice the way that he smelled her hair when they were clasped together. He held onto the embrace just a little longer than Pyrrha was entirely comfortable with, but he released her in the end and took a step back. He smiled. "So, the pride and glory of Mistral comes to my door at last," he observed sardonically. "To what do I owe the...?" he stopped, his voice trailing off into nothing as he caught sight of the ring gleaming on Pyrrha's finger. "What is that?" he demanded, his voice becoming a little more harsh and demanding than it had been.

Pyrrha glanced down at the ring on her finger, her smile becoming more genuine as she said, "I think you might be one of the first people outside of my own house to know this - at least until Autumn publishes her next blog - but I'm engaged to be married."

It was the strangest thing, but Pyrrha almost thought she heard a disembodied voice cry out a triumphant 'yes!' from just behind her ear, but how could anyone have when she and Turnus were the only people in the courtyard, and if someone could, then why would they? Her joy at being engaged was clearly affecting her mind a little too much.

Turnus' mouth twisted with distaste. "To the Valish boy?"

"To Jaune, yes," Pyrrha replied.

"Why?" Turnus demanded. "What do you see in-?"

"I don't believe I need to explain that to you, Turnus," Pyrrha said, cutting him off as her voice chilled noticeably. "I came here to discuss the affairs of our kingdom, not my private life, and though this is your house, I do not think I am obliged to listen to you demean my fiancé to my face. Certainly I will not listen."

Turnus fell silent a moment. "Yes," he admitted. "That would make me a poor host, wouldn't it? Forgive me." He gestured inside the house. "And come inside, if you will."

Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you," she murmured as the two of them walked side by side through the great doors and into the house itself. Though the house of the Rutulus family appeared to be austere and perhaps a little over-martial on the outside, within the walls of the house proper it was as richly decorated as any great house in Mistral, with the walls painted in black and orange like the tiger butterfly - or the tiger - while vases and statuettes of great antiquity sat upon plinths dotting the great hallway, with its high ceiling reaching up several storeys. The carpet was blue, checkered with red, and a staircase rose up from the centre of the hall, ascending to the first floor balcony.

And upon that balcony stood, looking down upon her as though he had the right to judge her for her actions, none other than Professor Leonardo Lionheart. He stared at her, his hands seemingly frozen to the wooden rail of the landing; he seemed greyer now than he had been before, and carried himself with a guilty posture. As well he might feel guilt after all that he had done.

"Lionheart!" Pyrrha snapped, anger rising into her voice. Without thinking, she shifted into a combat stance, one hand reaching for Miló where it hung from her back. "What are you doing here?"

"Leonardo is my guest, and has been for some time," Turnus declared casually. "Is that a problem?"

"Your guest?" Pyrrha cried, turning her attention away from Lionheart and towards Turnus as she backed away from him. Her gaze flickered between Turnus and the open doorway, with the closed gate beyond. Was this a trap that she had walked into? Was Turnus just as much a traitor as Lionheart was? She hoped it was not so, not for her own safety's sake but because, in spite of everything, Turnus remained a son of Mistral; she did not wish to think that he could fall so low. And yet what other explanation could there be? "Why, Turnus?" she asked. "Why would you betray Mistral to Salem?"

"Betray Mistral? I have done no such thing!" Turnus replied, his voice rising with a heat to match Pyrrha's own. "And who in Remnant is Salem?" He spoke with conviction, or at least Pyrrha thought he did... or at the very least she wished to think he did. "In any case, Leonardo is a guest in my hall and thus, in my hall, he is beyond all harm. As are you."

Pyrrha definitely believed that. For all that she did not particularly care for him, she acknowledged that there were aspects of antique lordship that Turnus played at very seriously, and hospitality was one of them. She would be safe from harm here beneath his roof... and so would Lionheart. "Very well," Pyrrha murmured, moving her hands away from her weapons and returning them to her sides, palms open to show she meant no harm. "You rule in your own home."

Turnus nodded. "Leonardo, get you away from here; the sight of you offends my lady's eye."

Lionheart had been standing on the landing, petrified by fright since he had - seemingly by sheer accident - come to Pyrrha's attention. Now he started, appearing to be surprised and guilty both in equal measure. "I...yes, of course."

"Yes, ‘lord’," Turnus said, in a warning tone.

A flash of irritation crossed Lionheart's face, but he nevertheless bowed his head. "Yes, lord. I will withdraw at once." And he did, his footsteps muffled by the carpet so that Pyrrha could not hear him go as he passed out of sight.

"There," Turnus said. "That is better, no?"

"Not particularly; he is still in this house after all," Pyrrha replied. "Why are you harbouring a traitor to Mistral?"

"A traitor to Mistral," Turnus repeated. "Tell me, Pyrrha, who is he supposed to have betrayed Mistral to? Is it this Salem that you speak of? And who is Salem?"

"She is… our enemy. Not just my enemy, but your enemy, and Mistral’s enemy; she is the enemy of all mankind," Pyrrha said, giving him as much information as she felt comfortable divulging at present.

“That is not possible,” Turnus said, waving one hand as though her words were a fly that he could flick away. "My sister invited him here, and she would not bring so great a danger as you make out into this house; she has her foibles but she is no enemy of mankind, or Mistral either.”

“Your sister?” Pyrrha repeated. “Juturna brought him here?”

“Indeed; what use she has for him I cannot say but in the meantime, I find him useful. He keeps me apprised of what is said in Council, and he says and votes as I instruct him. It is thanks in part to my tame Lionheart that the Council has so far not taken any action against Atlas...or you, for that matter."

"I was aware of his surprising voting record, but not that I had you to thank for it," Pyrrha murmured. "Although I am not sure why you’ve had him help me."

"There are times when I am uncertain myself," Turnus said, his voice acquiring a hint of a growl as he glanced once more towards the ring on Pyrrha's finger. “Although I suppose there are pragmatic reasons; there is a risk my own enterprise could be caught in the net of a blanket ban on private armies, not to mention the trouble that would arise with MARS.”

"And Atlas?" Pyrrha asked. "I am glad that you are not amongst those who favour a confrontational attitude.” Although that, too, surprises me a little.

"On the contrary," Turnus declared, "Atlas has much to teach us, if only we can bend our pride to listen. They are a great power, while we...we are a failing one, and grievously on the wane. We must look to them as a student to a teacher. We must model ourselves upon their discipline, their obedience to authority, their unity of purpose if we are to regain our former glory."

The Atlesians I have fought beside would never have left their teammates to die at the hands of the grimm; or worse, done the deed themselves, Pyrrha thought; nobody knew exactly what had happened upon that training mission, but even if the mildest interpretation were true and Turnus had abandoned his teammates...it was not something that she could ever imagine Rainbow Dash doing, or Ciel. Not that she could say so for obvious reasons; instead she said, “My experience fighting alongside Atlesian huntresses has left me with a slightly different impression of their virtues than you.” Discipline, obedience, and unity, yes, they possessed all those qualities, but what of the camaraderie that bound them together in the battle-line?

Turnus chuckled. “Yes, you befriended Ironwood’s proteges, didn’t you? In truth, though, I think that man is a little soft, and far too tolerant of weakness that a stronger man would purge without mercy. I learnt far more about what makes Atlas great in my time at the SDC than I did in my two years at Atlas Academy.” A fond smile played across his face. “My captain at SDC security could teach a thing or two about how discipline and strength go hand in hand. Still, though it appears we disagree on what makes Atlas admirable, we yet, I think, agree that it is not in Mistral’s interests to quarrel with them.”

"We are stronger together than we are apart," Pyrrha agreed. "I'm glad you see that in some way, at least. I am still not glad that you have Lionheart in your house; he may have been useful to you, I fear that Juturna is putting all of you in grave danger."

Turnus' eyes narrowed. "I trust my sister more than your...I’m bound to call it deliberate vagueness."

"I am as clear as I can be," Pyrrha replied. "Ask Lionheart, if you will, and then decide whether he is welcome as your guest."

"I will speak to Juturna about it," Turnus murmured. "But why did you come here, Pyrrha? Not to warn me about Lionheart - you didn't know he was here - so why have you come?"

Pyrrha drew in a deep breath. "Because I need your help," she said. "And so does Mistral."

Turnus folded his strong arms across his chest. "You come to ask me for help wearing a lesser man's ring upon your finger?"

"My hand and heart are mine to give to whom I choose," Pyrrha declared. "I never gave you any promise of either."

"Your mother led me to believe differently," Turnus growled.

"My mother and I have come to a greater mutual understanding recently," Pyrrha said, "and in any case, she may have led you to expect something that was never hers to give." She paused for only a brief moment. "I came here to speak of Mistral, not of myself."

"But it is you who comes asking for my help," Turnus pointed out.

"Mistral needs your help," Pyrrha corrected. "I cannot continue to protect this kingdom alone; if you and your forces would share the burden-"

"Rutulian Security already protects any village that can afford to pay," Turnus informed her. "Provided they ask for our protection, of course. Most of them seem to prefer yours, probably because it's free. If you yourself were to start charging, then perhaps you wouldn't need my assistance."

"You understand the sacred nature of hospitality but not the notion that a lord should protect his people?" Pyrrha asked. "Grimm and bandits alike descend upon our settlements, and you haggle over lien with desperate villagers? Worse, you advise me to do the same? How will Mistral ever regain its former glory if we have allowed its lands to be overrun by monsters and vagabonds, its people slaughtered and devoured?"

Turnus was silent for a moment. "You say it is the duty of the lord to defend the people," he said. "I say it is the duty of the leader. Let the little men who presume to lead this kingdom then defend it."

"They do not!" Pyrrha cried. "Thanks, in part, to Lionheart. Are you aware that proposals in Council to have the huntsmen who remain in the city sent forth to defend the settlements have failed because of Lionheart’s vote against them? Was that your doing? If you would have him-”

“No,” Turnus said, cutting her off. “I will not have him do so. It does not serve my interests.”

“It is in your interests to let Mistral burn?”

"It is in my interests that the people should open their eyes," Turnus declared. "That they should see the folly and the failure of our system and the inadequacy of those who presume to lead us. Do not allow yourself to be used as a shield for those who are so much less than you."

"And let people die so that the Council may be discomfited?" Pyrrha replied. "No. I cannot do that. It is not in my nature." She sighed. “Is there nothing that I could say that would convince you to...to do the right thing?”

Turnus hesitated. His gaze flickered to the ring upon her finger. “There might be.”

Pyrrha’s other hand went to the ring, to Jaune’s ring, covering it from his sight. “No,” she said. “You have no right, and nor does Mistral. Please, Turnus, do not try to blackmail some sham affection out of me. You’re better than that. Or at least I hope you are.”

“Better,” Turnus snorted. “So by accepting that I have been beaten by a pathetic boy, I show myself to be better? What a curious way of looking at it.”

"It might offer you some consolation, whether you deserve it or not,” Pyrrha growled. “I fear that we will not see eye to eye upon this. Goodbye, Turnus."

She strode out of the doors - still open, as they had been to admit her, although as Pyrrha left, Turnus shut them behind her - and emerged once more into the stone courtyard. Lionheart was waiting for her there, and although he bore no visible weapon, Pyrrha nevertheless felt herself tense up at the sight of him.

Lionheart raised his hands pacifically. "Please, Pyrrha, I am not here to fight with you. I only want to talk."

"I don't think that we have anything to say to one another," Pyrrha replied coldly. She did not go forward - she didn't want to turn her back on Lionheart - so she simply waited for him to go so that she could continue on her way.

Lionheart cringed from the tone of her voice. "I...I am glad to see you returned home safe and sound," he said.

"Rather than dead, as Cinder would have had me, once upon a time?" Pyrrha demanded.

"I never wanted that to happen," Lionheart insisted. "Pyrrha, I've known you since you were a child-"

"But did I ever know you?" Pyrrha asked. "Did anyone?"

"I am not the villain of this story, Pyrrha," Lionheart declared. "All that I have done...do you think that it was easy for me as Headmaster of Haven? All of those children...teaching them, nurturing them, guiding them...guiding them down a road that leads only to a pointless death in Ozpin's war."

"You...you're blaming Professor Ozpin?" Pyrrha demanded, her voice incredulous. "You're blaming Professor Ozpin for...for giving you no choice but to betray him? If we were not both guests of the House of Rutulus I would strike you down this instant."

"If you think that Ozpin cares about you any more than he cares about me you are very much mistaken, young lady," Lionheart snapped.

“Cared,” Pyrrha said coldly.

“Excuse me?”

“Professor Ozpin cared for me,” Pyrrha declared. “And for my teammates and for all his students. He was not the cold and heartless spider you would make of him.” She paused for a moment, her breath catching in her throat at the memory of that night, the broken spectacles and the discarded cane. “But he is dead now, thanks in part to your betrayal.”

Lionheart looked a little guilty, although why he should feel guiltier about forgetting the professor’s death than he should for causing said death, Pyrrha could not fathom. “Of course,” he muttered. “I...I forgot for a moment. You know how it is. Loss-”

“Don’t talk as though you’ve lost something!” Pyrrha snapped. “You don’t have the right! Not after what you’ve done.”

“I did what I must; I had no choice,” Lionheart replied, his voice heating. “Ozpin left me with no choice. Perhaps when you have seen a few of your friends and comrades die to no avail, you will start to understand my actions."

Some of my comrades have already lost friends, and it has only strengthened their resolve. What will you say of Reese? That blood is on your hands more than Professor Ozpin's. "Team Auburn," Pyrrha said. "How did you choose its leader?"

Lionheart looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"Why did you choose Arslan Altan to be the leader of Team Auburn?" Pyrrha repeated. "Was it because you thought she would fail or because you thought it would be expected that she would lead given her status?" She wasn't sure which would be the better answer for Arslan at this point.

Lionheart hung his head. "Tell Miss Altan that...it was neither. I didn't expect her to be a bad leader, but I did expect...for her to be a lazy one, the sort who wouldn't push her teammates too hard; the kind who wouldn't drag them into the net of Ozpin's attention. Latterly...that felt like the only way I could keep my students safe."

"I see," Pyrrha said, calmly but with evident disapproval in her voice. "I don't expect that answer will make Arslan look well on you."

"No, I don't suppose it will," Lionheart admitted. "But please tell all of my former students that I am glad they're still alive...those who are still alive. This isn't a fight that you can win, Pyrrha. Give up now while there is still time. Salem is not without mercy."

"If she was so very merciful, there would be no war to fight," Pyrrha replied. "Perhaps it is not a battle I can win, but it is one that I must fight nevertheless."

"I see. I...am sorry that you feel that way," Lionheart said. "Good day, Pyrrha Nikos." He bowed his head, and turned to walk away in the direction of one of the outbuildings.

Pyrrha watched him go, her eyes wary. Only when he had gone some distance did she begin to walk towards the gate.

"Hey, Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha turned to see that Turnus' sister Juturna had emerged from...somewhere; she was very close to Pyrrha without Pyrrha having heard her approach. Perhaps she had a stealth semblance that let her go undetected. In any event, she clearly did not mind being detected now. Juturna was about the height of Nora, and shared the dark hair of her elder brother, except that where his was streaked with a smouldering red, the streaks in Juturna's hair were a cool, watery blue; she wore a leather jacket, with fringed tassels dangling from the sleeves, over a t-shirt with a butterfly on it. Her pants were black leather, and her steel-toe capped boots tapped upon the ground a little as she walked towards Pyrrha.

"Juturna," Pyrrha said, bowing her head. "I'm sorry that I couldn't stay long enough to see you."

"Well, we're seeing each other now, aren't we?" Juturna replied brightly. "Congratulations on getting the ring, by the way."

"Thank you."

"And it is a nice ring, isn't it?" Juturna continued. "Not the fanciest ring ever, but-"

"It's an heirloom of Jaune's family," Pyrrha explained.

"Sentimental value, nice," Juturna remarked, nodding her head. She looked up into Pyrrha's face. "I really do mean all of this. Turnus is...well, yeah; but I'm happy for you, truly." Juturna beamed, her bright blue eyes lighting up. "You've found your fairy tale, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have." Pyrrha replied evenly. "Juturna...why are you sheltering Lionheart here?"

Juturna was silent for a moment. "Pyrrha...is there anyone that you would do absolutely anything for, anyone at all?"

"Anything?" Pyrrha asked. "No."

Juturna's eyebrows rose. "No. Really? No one at all."

"No."

"Not even the boy who gave you that ring?"

"There are some things I wouldn't do even for Jaune," Pyrrha said. "And Jaune would never ask me to do those things in any case."

"The people I care about wouldn't ask me to do some things either, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't do them if it was for their own good," Juturna replied. "And with the help of my new friends, I will make a better world for them. You've got your fairy tale, Pyrrha; now let me have mine."

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "You're the one serving Salem, not your brother."

Juturna snorted. "Please. I am the blood of Old Mistral just as much as you; I don’t serve anyone. That ugly old hag is working for me."

"Please tell me you're not so stupid as to believe that," Pyrrha murmured.

"If you're just going to insult me..." Juturna said, but she was still smiling as she clapped her hands together, causing the gate to slide open once more. "I don't bear you any ill will, Pyrrha; I wish you a long and happy life with blondie. Just stay out of my way, okay? Stay out of my way, and we won't have any trouble at all."

Neptune’s mother still kept the death masks in the hall.

Neptune hated the sight of them, all those clay faces with candles burning in their open mouths like tongues of fire. He’d always hated them, ever since he was a kid and they had creeped him out, but at the same time, whenever he was here, it was like he couldn’t tear his eyes away from them. Especially not the ones he knew: his grandparents, Dad, Jupiter. He couldn’t help but look at their faces in particular, the clay faces giving way to the real ones that existed in his memory…but every bit as lifeless as the masks, and still with the flames burning in their mouths.

He really, really didn’t like this place. Not one little bit.

But Pyrrha had asked him to come here and make one more appeal to his mother for help; Neptune had little hope that she would have changed her mind since the last time he was here, but he couldn’t refuse. Not when Pyrrha asked. Especially since he got the impression that she was also going somewhere she didn’t really want to go today.

“Young lord?”

The voice of one of the serving maids, though it was timorous, was enough to tear his eyes away from those awful masks upon the wall. She bobbed up and down in a curtsy. “The mistress will see you now.”

Neptune nodded. He didn’t smile or flirt; there was a good chance that they might have gone along with it every bit as far as he wanted simply because he wanted it, and that…that was creepier than it was fun in his opinion, so he always tried to be professional with the staff. Polite, but professional. “Lead the way,” he said, his voice becoming a little hoarse.

“Yes, young lord,” the maid said, turning away and leaving him to follow behind her as she led him into the house. Neptune ran one hand through his hair as he went, brushing his blue fringe back up into its proper shape as he was conveyed into one of the sitting rooms, with a garden set in the centre of the room hived off with panes of glass. A red settee sat just before the garden, and upon that sofa sat his mother.

Gaia Vasilias was dressed in black, a stola of mourning draped over her head and shoulders, almost covering her bouffant blue curls. The way the shadows of the stola fell across her face, she seemed almost like some cave dwelling creature, tentatively emerging from the darkness. It was a terrible way to think of your mother, but at the same time, in these circumstances…as nervous as he was, it was all that Neptune could think of.

Her blue eyes were like ice as they fixed upon her son, and Neptune was very glad that he had fastened his top collar button and tightened his tie before he came here, even if he did feel as though he was being strangled in consequence.

“Neptune,” Gaia said, her voice betraying nothing.

“Hey, Mom,” Neptune muttered, trying to resist the urge to look at his feet.

“Have you come to your senses and abandoned this insurrection?” Gaia demanded.

“It’s not an insurrection,” Neptune said. “I wish you wouldn’t keep calling it that, and no, I haven’t left.”

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked. “What is there to say?”

“I’m here…” I’m here to give you another chance to do the right thing. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

He could feel his mother’s eyebrows rising, for all that he couldn’t see them because of the shadows on her face. He could hear the edge of contempt in her voice perfectly well. “My help,” she repeated, slowly, as though she might have misheard him. “You want me to help you, to help Pyrrha Nikos.”

“I’d like for you to help the Kingdom of Mistral,” Neptune said.

Gaia snorted. “Pyrrha Nikos and her band of followers – of which, to our shame, you are one – are a far greater danger to the Kingdom of Mistral than the grimm or any brigand chief.”

“What?” Neptune yelled, as for a moment his surprise overcame his nerves. “How can you…that’s just wrong on so many levels I’m astounded you can say it with a straight face. In what world is that even remotely close to true? All that Pyrrha and I and all of us have done is defend the settlements from attack. Yesterday, I was at Leuctris, a village that we used to rule in the old days, a village that we still own, and we saved it because no one else would.”

“Villages can be rebuilt or new settlements founded to take their place,” Gaia said.

“Can villagers be brought back from the dead?” Neptune snapped.

“But the principles of a free commonwealth cannot be restored once they have been tarnished,” Gaia continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Pyrrha’s prestige amongst the people was already dangerously great; now her legend grows with every victory won by her forces.”

“She earns it,” Neptune said. Maybe other people should try getting off their behinds and doing something before they start complaining.

“Who appointed her to this charge?” Gaia asked. “Where is her authority from the Council?”

“The Council isn’t doing anything.”

“The Council must keep what strength remains to it close at hand, lest defending the outlying villages leave the city vulnerable. If you truly cared for the Kingdom of Mistral, you would drive a knife through the back of Pyrrha Nikos, not protect that back in battle.”

For a moment Neptune thought that he must have misheard his mother; for a moment, he thought that he must have been mistaken in thinking that she had just so cavalierly discussed the murder of an innocent young woman, and one who was considered a hero by so many no less. Until he realised that he had not misheard, and the fact that Pyrrha was considered a hero by many was exactly the reason why his mother would prefer to see her dead.

“Gods, you mean it, don’t you?” Neptune said. “Grimm at the gates, and your biggest worry is the one person in this whole kingdom who is doing something about it.”

“My concern – and the concern of many other wise men and women of good family in Mistral – is with the woman who commands an army as strong as any in in the land, whose name the common people cheer in the streets as they adorn it with the title ‘princess,’ who bestrides the world like a colossus while all the rest must creep about around her feet to find ourselves dishonourable graves. My concern is that the heir to the throne of Mistral has raised a force as strong as any in the city even as she demands that the Council disperse its forces across the breadth of the kingdom. My concern is that Pyrrha Nikos could reclaim the throne any time she wished merely by stretching out her hand for it.”

“That’s...absurd,” Neptune said. “Pyrrha isn’t planning a coup or plotting to take the throne of Mistral; she’s just trying to do the right thing, since it seems that nobody else will.”

“And when the crisis has passed, what then?”

“Then we’ll all go home, if you’ll let me through the door. And even if she did have some ulterior motive, then so what? It’s not as if things are working brilliantly the way they are right now!”

Gaia rose to her feet. “Have you no shame? No sense of dignity at all that you have become one of her spear-carriers? Your brother would never have descended to such a level of ignominy.”

Neptune closed his eyes. It always comes back to this, doesn’t it? “Jupiter would have done what was right,” he said. And you would have loved him for it, just like everyone else.

“Yes,” Gaia said. “He would have.” She didn’t give Neptune a chance to remark that he and his mother had quite different ideas on what was right. “When you are ready to truly stand for this kingdom, then you may return to this house. Until then, while you are still a servant to the would-be Empress, don’t bother coming back here again.”

Neptune scowled. He didn’t want to do this, but she wasn’t leaving him with much choice. He’d committed himself, pledged himself; Sun, Scarlet, Sage, all those guys were willing to risk everything to do the right thing; how could he do less? “Fine,” he muttered. “See you around, Mom.” He turned away and walked briskly out of the room and back to the hallway, where the eerie death masks watched him with the flames flickering in their eyes.

Jupiter seemed to be watching him. His elder brother had been the real deal, everything that Neptune tried to be, Jupiter had embodied for real. Girls wanted him, guys wanted to be him, heads turned as he walked down the street; people thought he was going to restore Haven’s honour in the Vytal Festival. But then...that mission; the grimm had been far more numerous than expected; the fate of a huntsman.

Now his brother was nothing more than a mask on the wall; it wasn’t even a particularly good likeness, but Neptune could see his brother’s face there anyway, staring silently.

You would have done the same.

I hope so, anyway.

“Goodbye, bro,” Neptune said, as he walked out of the door.

Somewhat to his surprise, he found Ditzy Doo waiting for him outside.

“Hey, Neptune,” Ditzy said. She must have noted the look on his face - and it must have been a transparent look - because her face fell. “It didn’t go so well, huh?”

“You could say that,” Neptune murmured. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Sun told me that you and your family have...that it wasn’t great between you,” Ditzy admitted. “So I thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone afterwards.”

Neptune was surprised. He didn’t think that he and the Atlesian girl were that close, or close at all for that matter. He liked her, and she had saved his life, but all the same, he was surprised. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

Ditzy smiled, and for the first time, Neptune noticed what a cute smile she had; it really made her whole face light up. She patted him on the shoulder. “Anything I can do to help,” she said.

General Li Park was not a particularly big place; in fact, it was downright small compared to some of the public parks further up the mountain, but this little green space sandwiched between the wooden fences had been the only open space around when Arslan had been growing up, and it still held a little bit of nostalgic charm for her as she leapt lightly over the fence and felt the grass crumple beneath her shoes.

She glanced around, looking for Kurt; instead, she saw a couple of teenagers making out under the shade of the tree that stood in the far corner of the park, while some younger kids kicked a ball around; and an older man walked a jack russell terrier around the perimeter.

“Yo, A-bomb!”

Arslan turned to see Kurt Beyaz leap the fence, just as Arslan had done just a moment before, to crush the grass under her. The White Wolf of Mistral was taller than Arslan - only by an inch, but that inch had meant a great deal when they were kids - with dark skin and silver-grey hair, of which only the edge of her bangs was visible beneath the gladiatorial regalia in which she was attired: she wore a white wolf head for a helmet, her head seeming to emerge from in between the dead beast’s jaws, while she wore the rest of the pelt like a coat, the forelegs fastened to the black vambraces she wore around her wrists; her cuirass was black and trimmed with fur, and across her back was slung a club with a single edge of serrated blades emerging from one side.

Arslan grinned. “K-fang,” she said, holding out her right fist. Kurt bumped it with her own. “How have you been?”

“The fact that you even have to ask is a sign that something’s wrong,” Kurt declared. “Remember when we said we were going to be best friends for life?”

“We were kids,” Arslan said. “And besides, it’s not like we’re mortal enemies.”

“I remember when I used to come over to your place when my mom had to work, and you came over to mine sometimes for the same reason; we’d watch cartoons and play board games,” Kurt replied. “Now you have to ask me how I am because you haven’t seen me in months.”

“You haven’t seen me either,” Arslan said. “Don’t put all of this on me. We grew up, we moved out of the neighbourhood; things change.”

“Things change like you prefer hanging out with princesses now.”

Arslan rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t call me so you could get on my back about the fact that P-money and I are friends now.”

“I remember when you hated her.”

“I’ve grown up a lot recently,” Arslan replied. “Seriously, Kurt, how have you been?”

“I’m okay,” Kurt said casually. “I really thought last year was going to be my year in the tournament, you know?”

“I thought last year was going to be your year, too,” Arslan said. She grinned. “Pyrrha and I practically gift-wrapped that title for you, but you just couldn’t close the deal, could you? No, in all seriousness, I saw the final; you got seriously unlucky.”

“Or Michael had some serious luck,” Kurt said. “Which amounts to the same thing, I suppose. Do you want to sit?”

Arslan nodded, and they both sat on the fence - there were no benches in this park, so they didn’t have a lot of choice - perched slightly awkwardly upon the wooden rails like oversized birds. Arslan found that it was not quite as comfortable sitting here - or she was less able to put up with discomfort - as it had been when she’d been younger. Both of them found their eyes drawn towards the romantic teens.

“Brings back memories, huh?” Kurt said.

Arslan snorted. “Memories for you, maybe.”

“Yeah, that’s right; you never had any luck in that regard, did you?”

“I was too busy training,” Arslan said defensively. “The difference is why one of us hovered about third to seventh place in an average year, and one of us-”

“Is a perpetual second?” Kurt said.

“Still better than you usually manage,” Arslan replied, prompting a laugh out of Kurt. “Anyway, how’s Mako?”

“How’s Mako? Mako and I broke up like a year ago,” Kurt answered.

“Really? We need to meet up more often,” Arslan muttered. “Or one of us could call, I suppose.” Or we could just admit that we’re not friends any more and stop pretending.

“What you need to do,” Kurt said, her tone becoming more earnest. “Is get out of that house.”

“Pyrrha’s house?” Arslan said.

Kurt nodded.

“Why?” Arslan asked. “And what’s it to you?”

“I’ve got a new job,” Kurt said.

Arslan frowned. “You’re quitting the arena? You didn’t even want to attend Haven for a shot at the Vytal Festival because you wanted to focus on the regionals, and now you’re walking away?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical,” Kurt said.

“To do what?”

Kurt hesitated for a moment. “Lady Ming has hired me to raise a company of fighting men.”

There was a moment’s pause while Arslan waited for a punchline that didn’t come. “You...seriously? Are you...are you kidding me with this?”

“I’m telling you-”

“I asked for your help!” Arslan snapped. “I asked you to come and help me out, protect Mistral, do something important for once, and you told me to jump off the hillside! Pyrrha and I weren’t good enough for you, but oh, Lady Ming?”

“Lady Ming doesn’t expect me to work for nothing,” Kurt replied.

“I’m sure that all the kids who idolise you would be thrilled to know that you won’t lift a finger unless you’re getting paid for it.”

“Get off my back!” Kurt snapped. “I don’t care what the fans think; I’ve got a skill, and I’m entitled to make money off it. Now I asked you here as a favour to let you know what’s up; are you going to listen, or are you going to sit there on your high horse?”

Arslan folded her arms. “So what does Lady Ming want with an armed company? She tried to get us outlawed in council not too long ago.”

Kurt shrugged. “You know what they say: if you can’t beat them, join them.”

“Then beat them with your new private army, I suppose,” Arslan muttered. “So she wants a company of fighting men. Who is she planning to fight?”

“Who do you think, A-bomb?” Kurt said.

Arslan’s eyes widened. “Pyrrha?”

“And you, all of you,” Kurt said. “I mean, she talks about fighting Atlas too, but I think...I don’t really know how much of what she says to take seriously. But she’s seriously worried about you guys. She says that she needs swords of her own around her in case you guys try anything.”

“We’re not going to try anything,” Arslan said. “You don’t really believe we’re planning to take over the kingdom, do you? Or do you just not care, so long as you get paid?”

“If I could get paid without having to fight you, that would be great,” Kurt replied. “But...the fact is you could take over the kingdom, or give it a good try at least, and that worries me almost as much as it worries Lady Ming. Mistral isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean I want to go back to the old days.”

“Pyrrha’s not like that.”

“Then why doesn’t she submit to the Council?”

“Submit how?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt admitted. “But if the Council were to offer to make Pyrrha legit, like a soldier, would she agree to it?”

Arslan hesitated. That would depend on how much control they wanted to have over her. She wouldn’t give up her freedom to act against Salem to people who don’t know that there’s a danger to face. “I don’t know.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“I know her heart,” Arslan said. “She hasn’t got a malicious bone in her body; Pyrrha will never act against the best interests of Mistral, and neither will I.”

“That’s...very vague.”

“That’s the best I can do for you at the moment,” Arslan admitted.

“If you mean that,” Kurt said, with a sigh, “then you and I might have a problem.”

“Because defending the helpless is such a terrible thing?” Arslan demanded. “I’ve seen what’s out there beyond the walls of Mistral; I had to bury a teammate back at Vale. Villages are coming under attack, and you’re worried about Pyrrha? How about you worry about the person who wants to go to war with Atlas? I mean, seriously, people are still on that?”

“I hope she’s not serious about that.”

“And if she is?”

“Then I’ll quit when it becomes an issue, but in the meantime, the bigger problem is you people.”

“The people protecting the kingdom?”

“The people running around answerable to nobody,” Kurt said. “Arslan, you know how this works: huntsmen, tournament fighters, we don’t get to form guilds like this is some kind of game. If you wanted to start something-”

“We don’t.”

“Nobody could stop you,” Kurt finished. “That’s why Lady Ming came to me. I don’t want to fight you, but...I won’t let Pyrrha Nikos take this city over like it’s her inheritance.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Arslan repeated.

“If that’s true,” Kurt replied, “then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Jaune sat in the study that he and Pyrrha shared, a blank sheet of paper in front of him.

He was trying to write a letter to Saphron in Argus; there was a mail courier leaving tomorrow, so he’d better get something down, or he would have to wait until there was another courier willing to risk the northward journey, and they were pretty irregular these days.

Everyone had gotten so used to having the CCT network, and Mistral was still figuring how to get by without it. And with the Argus Limited having been robbed once already during its journey across the long and pretty lawless stretch of land between the two cities, even the train was starting to seen like a risky option in today’s unsafe world. Couriers had stepped into the breach to carry messages between cities and towns - and beyond; some were willing to fly north to Atlas - but it was a long way to Argus, and you couldn’t always find someone making the trip exactly when you wanted them.

That was why he hadn’t written to his sister yet. That was his excuse, anyway.

Jaune was sure, pretty sure, mostly pretty sure, that Saphron and Terra were fine in Argus itself; the city was pretty well protected, what with the walls and the harbour shield and the Atlesian military base in the bay.

But he should have written to them by now. And at this point - with no emergencies and with Pyrrha out visiting some guy for help - he’d run out of excuses for putting it off.

Jaune picked up his pen, and scratched his head briefly as he wondered how to start.

Dear Saphron,

I know that I should have written to you before now, and I’m sorry. I could say that things have been pretty hectic around here - and they have been - but that’s not really much of an excuse. I could have found five minutes to write you something. I guess I wasn’t really sure what to say.

I hope that you’re okay. You and Terra and Adrian, too. Most of the Atlesian troops went home after the towers went down, but from what I hear, the ones at Argus are still there. At least that was the last thing I heard, but that was a little while ago. I hope that’s true, because if that’s true, then I don’t have to worry. Stay within the walls, and you’ll be safe.

What’s Terra doing with the network down? Are they working to get it back up? I’m not trying to pry; actually, yes I am. We’re starved for information down here, and anything that you can let us know - without getting in trouble, obviously - would be great to hear. Are they working to get the towers back up? Do you know anything more in Argus about what’s happening up north than we do here?

I never quite realised how much we relied upon the CCT until it wasn’t there anymore. I guess that’s the way with a lot of things, isn’t it?

At least I can get this letter to you. I’m not sure how I’d even start to get in touch with Mom and Dad and everyone back home. We know even less about what’s going on in Vale than we do about Atlas, and considering how little we know about what’s happening in Atlas, that says a lot.

You might be wondering how it is that I’m able to write this to you. Well, as you might have worked out by now, I’m in Mistral. With Pyrrha.

I asked her to marry me.

And she said yes.

I still can’t believe that I actually had the guts to do it.

I’m going to marry Pyrrha Nikos!

I am the luckiest guy ever. I still can’t quite believe what she sees in me, but I’m not going to question it.

You might think that this is sudden; I know that you waited longer to ask Terra, but it’s been pointed out to me that we don’t know how much time we’ll have. Things are pretty bad around here; there are grimm and bandits, and Pyrrha’s fighting back as hard as she can. She’s the strongest person I know but all the same, none of us know what the future holds.

Which is an argument for having the wedding as quickly as possible, I guess. We haven’t talked about that yet. I only proposed last night. I see why we ought to marry quickly, but at the same time, it would feel weird to get married with none of my family or our best friends here.

But I don’t want to leave it too late.

If you had told me that when I ran off to Beacon that I would end up defending Mistral from the dark alongside a girl I love, I would have said that you were nuts. There are a lot of things that have happened to me that I wouldn’t change for anything, but there are also times when I miss the days when my biggest problem was that my sisters wouldn’t stop bugging me.

But since we can’t go back, I guess we have to keep moving forward.

Stay safe, Sis, and give Adrian a hug from Uncle Jaune.

Love,

Jaune

“Thank you for coming, councillors,” Lady Nikos said. “Please, take a seat,” she added, as she gestured with one hand to the red velvet armchairs that she had ordered brought to her study in anticipation of their arrival.

Councillor Cicero Ward the Elder clasped his hands together before him as he bowed his head. “Thank you for your hospitality, my lady,” he murmured as he took his seat on the left. The councillor was a small man, with black hair cut down and greying slightly at the temples, a slender frame and a narrow face. He had come to politics from the law in which he had made his name, and he still dressed like a lawyer in a well-tailored suit and a dark tie.

Councillor Timur Kiyat smiled at her as he took the seat on the right. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Hippolyta. It has been far too long since last we spoke.” Timur was a swarthy man, tall and powerfully built even as he grew older, with a heavy brow, a thick moustache, and a beard that covered his jawline. Both his cheeks were scarred and lined, for his path to the council had run not through the law but through the arena, as he had been a popular fighter in the tournament circuit once upon a time; in fact, he and Lady Nikos had even been rivals there once. Now, he was as retired as she was and dressed in rich robes of royal blue trimmed with scarlet and adorned with golden patterns; a white cape hung from off his shoulders.

Lady Nikos waited for them both to be seated before she herself took her seat on the other side of the desk. She gestured to the maid standing unobtrusively besides the wall, and the girl stepped forward and poured three cups of tea from the pot on the table between them. Once that was done, the maid retreated, leaving the three of them alone in the study.

“Councillor Ward, Councillor Kiyat,” Lady Nikos said. “I am sure you can guess why I invited you into my home.”

“The state of Mistral,” Cicero the Elder murmured.

“Precisely, Councillor Ward,” Lady Nikos replied. “My daughter and her companions have done heroic work these last few months, as I hope you will agree, but they cannot defend Mistral alone. Though their hearts may burn as bright as ever, the resources of our house are not unlimited.”

“You need money,” Timur said bluntly.

“Men would be helpful, money essential,” Lady Nikos said. “Pyrrha has gone to speak to young Lord Rutulus to ask for both; I do not count upon her being successful.”

“Rutulian Security is active,” Timur told her. “For a price.”

“A price that many villages cannot afford, as I understand,” Lady Nikos said.

“Perhaps, but it shows the kind of attitude you're dealing with,” Timur said. “I wouldn’t expect much more from a personal appeal.”

“I sympathise with your position, Lady Nikos, but I’m not sure what you expect us to do about it,” Cicero the Elder said. “The Lord Steward wishes to keep the Council’s huntsman close, and with the kingdom suffering such a dearth of them at the moment, there are no others that could be found.”

“You should have stayed on the council, Hippolyta,” Timur said. “If you had, it might be that we’d have the three votes you want now.”

“Or perhaps I would have been voted off at some point between then and now,” Lady Nikos replied. She had served on the Council after her retirement from the arena, her name getting her elected as much as her policies or her ability. Looking back with a clear eye, she could see that she had not been a particularly able Councillor, accomplishing little except to keep the kingdom sailing along on its predetermined course; she had mostly gone into politics out of a combination of a sense of obligation and a desire to find something to take her mind off the failure of her martial ambitions and, later, the death of her husband. She had retired when it became clear just what a prodigious talent Pyrrha was, to devote herself full-time to her daughter’s education. “Or I would have as many enemies but have taken the place of one of my allies. I am content to be glad that we have at least some friends in the Council chamber.” She glanced at Timur. “On some issues, at least.”

The smile did not waver from Timur’s face. “I support what you’re doing to defend the outer territories - I’d better; it’s where my income comes from - but I’m not your servant to agree with you on everything.”

“I would hope that good sense alone would lead you to conclude the folly of seeking a confrontation with Atlas,” Cicero the Elder remarked acidly.

“I have nothing against the Kingdom of Atlas in principle,” Timur declared. “What I don’t like, why I backed sending an expedition to Vale, why I’m backing punitive measures now, is getting treated like a servingman. Like that maid you just sent away with a snap of your fingers.” He picked up his tea from off the table, savoured the aroma rising from the steaming cup for a moment, and then took a long sip. “Very good,” he pronounced it. “Are we not Mistral?”

“I yield to no one in my pride in this kingdom and its history,” Lady Nikos said. “A history in which my family has played a prominent part. But to invite a war with Atlas, at a time like this...have we not enemies enough infesting our territory without inviting more of them?”

“Especially after the disaster that resulted from our attempt at a show of force against them,” Cicero the Elder noted.

“With hindsight-” Timur began.

“How about with a little foresight?” Cicero the Elder demanded.

“Sending our forces to Vale was a mistake,” Timur conceded. “Or at least sending forces made up of conscripts was. A smaller force of huntsmen might have been more impressive...if the huntsmen could have been found. In any case, it doesn’t change the fact that we hold far more cards in our relationship with Atlas than they would like us to think. We’re sitting on all the food.”

Lady Nikos sipped some of her own tea. “I must confess, Timur, my sense of honour recoils from the idea of attempting to starve into submission a people who have done us neither harm nor wrong. On the contrary, Pyrrha fought side by side with the Atlesian forces at the Battle of Vale, and at the Breach before that.”

“And it doesn’t revolt you that they took all the credit for the Breach?” Timur asked. “As they are almost certainly taking all the credit for the Battle of Vale, Atlas being what it is; would either of you care to make a wager with me that when the tower network is restored we will find that all of Mistral’s heroes have been airbrushed from the record so that it will seem that Atlas alone saved the Kingdom of Vale?”

“That is a fool’s wager, I would not bet against such an outcome,” Cicero conceded.

“Then how can you not be infuriated by it?” Timur demanded.

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “Mistral knows what my Pyrrha has done,” she said. “And Mistral will remember.”

“All this talk of pride and honour is all very well,” Cicero the Elder said, “but the blunt fact of the matter is that to invite confrontation with Atlas is to invite ruin. Suppose that we did embargo grain, and then they sent their fleet to collect it, what then?”

“What then indeed?” Timur asked. “Are Atlesian androids going to gather in the harvest?”

“I did not ask you here to debate the positives of taking a stand against Atlas,” Lady Nikos reminded them both, “but to ask how we might increase support in the council for a stand against the forces presently menacing the very survival of so many of our outlying communities.”

“Perhaps if you did support taking a stand against Atlas then Lady Ming would reciprocate by supporting you?” Timur suggested. “I’ve spoken to her several times; she’s not unreasonable. She fears that Pyrrha’s strength may soon be turned against Mistral itself.”

“That is ridiculous,” Lady Nikos declared.

“Not to some on the Council, unfortunately,” Cicero the Elder said.

“I’d be a little worried myself, if my fear for my lands didn’t outweigh it,” Timur said, with remarkable candour. “But, if it looked as though Pyrrha’s strength might be turned against Atlas-”

“Absolutely not,” Lady Nikos said. “I can tell you both at once that Pyrrha would never consent to fight against Atlas, or even to risk that it might come to that, not after all she has been through side by side with the Atlesians, and the friendships she has forged with them.”

“I am glad to hear it, or I would wonder if I was on the right side,” Cicero the Elder muttered. “Lady Ming might be content with Pyrrha and the rest embracing her madness, but the Lord Steward would prefer your daughter accepting some sort of Council authority over her.”

Lady Nikos leaned back in her chair. “Has he broached that notion to you?”

“No, but I do not think that he will be too proud to accept any offer that I brook to him,” Cicero the Elder replied. “The question is: will it be accepted?”

“I can make no promises on Pyrrha’s behalf,” Lady Nikos cautioned him. Indeed, she was genuinely uncertain as to how Pyrrha would react to the idea of surrendering her autonomy. She was not a natural rebel against the structures of the state, but she might fear to be tied down too tightly; in truth, that was a concern of Lady Nikos, too; accepting the Council’s authority might turn into doing nothing if the Council continued to vacillate as it had done. On the other hand, with Lord Thrax on board, that was three votes in Council. “She would need to hear the terms.”

“But I may approach the Steward in good faith?” he asked.

“You may,” Lady Nikos said. “And I think I can say that you may do so with both our blessings.”

Pyrrha returned home with a sickly feeling of discomfort squirming in her stomach, and half her thoughts left behind at the house of the Rutuli. She could scarcely believe it, although she found that when she tried to think about why she found it so hard to believe, it said some things about her that...well, perhaps they did not paint her in the best light. After all, Salem had been making use of well-placed traitors ever since Pyrrha had become drawn into these events and before: Cinder, Amber, Lionheart; why not Juturna also? The answer, somewhat uncomfortably to Pyrrha's sense of self-awareness, was that Juturna was of her class; it seemed that, for all that she become frustrated with the inaction of the Council, she had not wanted to believe that the values of the Mistralian elite could become so degraded that one of their number would sell out their kingdom to Salem in exchange for...what? What did Juturna hope to gain by this? She had been very vague, and that was almost certainly deliberate, when they had briefly spoken; what was more, Pyrrha didn't know whether she could - or wished to - believe some of the things that Juturna had said to her. Did she really believe that she was using Salem and not the other way around? Was she that...Pyrrha could think of several words to describe her but some of them were not particularly polite. Her brother had appeared to be ignorant of what was really going on; could the same be said of her companions?

That is not so hard to believe, I suppose. We were all ignorant of what Sunset had done for us, after all.

A traitor in the heart of Mistral. Sheltering Lionheart, working with Salem...the fact that, as far as she could tell, Juturna hadn't done anything yet beyond take Lionheart into her brother's house did not make the situation any better in Pyrrha's eyes. Pyrrha wracked her brain trying to think of anything that had occurred in Mistral that might be attributed to the designs of Salem and came up with nothing, although that might be a sign more of her lack of imagination than to the inactivity of her enemies; she would perhaps have considered Turnus' inactivity to be a sign of Juturna's influence had not Turnus been able to make his own immoral case with such conviction. Even worse was that she had absolutely no idea what she ought to or could do about it. Lionheart was her enemy, and if Juturna really was in league with Salem, then she was Pyrrha's enemy too, but what of that? Pyrrha couldn't take her followers, storm the Rutuli house, and kill them both; to do so, she would not only have to kill Turnus and Camilla and doubtless many of their followers who were innocent of any part in this shadow war, but also, she would sink at once to the level of all those who said that she and her followers were nothing more than a private army for her own benefit. Not to mention that Mistral was still a city under the rule of law, and to commit such a flagrant act of violence without cause would bring that law down upon her and her comrades and leave her the unenviable choice of surrendering before its majesty or rebelling against it. But, in truth, even had the law collapsed and the police been wished away, Pyrrha would have hesitated to take this step. She did not wish to be the first to spill civil blood in the streets of her home, nor to debase the honour of her comrades and their noble enterprise by reducing them to the level of a gang of Valish street toughs. And yet, short of violence, what could she do? Juturna had committed no crime for which Pyrrha could set the law on her - the same, unfortunately, could be said of Lionheart - not without revealing certain truths too widely by far. What, then, could she do?

Professor, Sunset, what am I supposed to do now?

She stopped, her eyes drawn to two pieces of graffiti which adorned the buildings on either side of the street down which she walked, both depictions of her, although the quality of the likeness...it was mostly the hair that gave it away: on one side, she wore a crown; on the other side of the road, someone who looked a lot like Neptune was slitting her throat with the word ‘LIBERTY’ in block capitals scrawled underneath.

Pyrrha sighed, if only softly. It was unfortunate that the city seemed to be divided between those who feared that she would seize power and those who hoped she would do just that. Why more people couldn’t take her stated intentions at face value was something she did not entirely understand.

There was nothing to be done about it, as there was nothing to be done about so much else. Nothing except wait for the current crisis to pass and then disband her forces, thus proving that there had never been anything to fear from her.

Her road home took her, as well as slightly down the city slopes, through a marketplace. Pyrrha had left early enough that it had been nearly deserted, but it was a little later in the morning now, and the square had filled up with men and women in the colourful attire of Mistral, pressed in riots of gold and green and aquamarine around the wooden stalls selling flowers, swords, sweets, spices, and all manner of other such things. The place was crowded, but it was not packed, and lost in her own thoughts as she was, Pyrrha had no difficulty in navigating the press of people out today. They all seemed so happy, so carefree: people laughed and talked and walked hand in hand as though there were no clouds in the sky. And it was a good thing. It meant that what she and her friends were doing was having an impact, and it gave her comfort despite everything. As she walked through the square, she was not blind to the way that the gazes of the people around her were drawn to her, the way that their whispers followed her, 'This is she! This is Pyrrha Nikos!' She did not particularly care for it, but at this point, she had only herself to blame: she had chosen to place herself in the public eye thus, and she could hardly on the one hand set out to make Mistral feel safe and then complain when people paid attention to her efforts.

"Pyrrha!" a young girl cried as she darted into Pyrrha's path, dragging a younger girl behind her by the hand, deaf to the cries of a woman - presumably their mother - who tried to stop them. Pyrrha looked down at them, and it occurred that she had met these two before, at a fan event of some kind...if only she could remember their names...Diana and Selene! Yes, that was it, she remembered because their names both evoked moonlight. Diana and Selene...she couldn't remember their family, unfortunately.

"Hello there," she said. "It's Diana and Selene, isn't it?"

Selene gasped. "You remembered!"

"I told you she would," Diana insisted.

Pyrrha smiled the well-worn smile of a champion as she knelt down - the metal of her greave tapped lightly upon the stone - so that she was closer to the two girls. "And what can I do for you this morning?"

"Dad says the reason you're not on TV anymore is that you're doing something important," Diana said. "You're protecting all of us. Is that true?"

Pyrrha nodded softly. "Yes," she said. "Your father is telling the truth about that."

"Does that mean we're in danger?" asked Selene.

The clamour in the market seemed quieter now, as if people far older than these two girls were waiting upon the answer to the question. It was for that reason that Pyrrha raised her voice as she answered, so that the answer would carry beyond their young ears. "No," she declared. "You're not in any danger, because my friends and I - it's not just me, it's Arslan too and many other fine people - will do everything we must, and pay any price we must, even our lives, to keep you safe. So sleep soundly and have pleasant dreams."

The two girls gazed at her, starry eyed, as their mother approached and took them both by the hand. "Come along, you two. I'm sorry to bother you, Lady Pyrrha."

Autumn, you have much to answer for. Pyrrha climbed to her feet. "It's quite alright, and you need not-"

"Gods bless you, Lady Pyrrha!" a man called from out of the crowd; Pyrrha turned to look but did not see where the voice had come from.

"Blessings be upon the true Champion of Mistral!" cried another man.

"Praise you, my lady, and all who fight beside you."

Like water released from behind a dam, their acclaim deluged down upon Pyrrha from all sides. She had heard sentiments like these before, when she returned from the battlefield, but now, perhaps because it seemed so much more spontaneous, it touched her more than it did then. As they sought to raise her skyward with their adulation, Pyrrha felt a tear spring to her eye. She glanced down at the two little girls, now being held onto her by their mother. She glanced around the market square, full of people placing their hopes for a safe and stable and a normal life upon the shoulders of herself and her companions. She could not let Juturna bring death and misery to this place, these people, nor even let her assist Salem in doing the same.

You asked me not to get in your way, Juturna, but your way gives me no choice. She still didn't have a plan, but as she resumed - with one last wave of her hand - her journey homeward, Pyrrha found that her sense of hopelessness had been replaced by one of urgency. She would have Ren watch the Rutulus house; perhaps she might even go further and ask if he was willing to try and burgle the place for any clue as to Juturna's intentions. Only if he thought he could do it safely and stealthily and without being apprehended; Nora would never forgive Pyrrha if she sent him into too great a danger alone. But he could certainly watch, and report what he saw. Then...and then...Pyrrha wasn't sure what else, but Jaune would know. Once she told her closest friends what she had learned, then Jaune would know what to do.

She arrived back home to find a stranger waiting before her gates, just as she had waited before Turnus' doors. It was a girl, about Pyrrha's age and dressed very much like Pyrrha, which was to say that her armour - a linothorax cuirass - was designed as much to accentuate the beauty of her lithe and slender form as it was to protect her; although it had shoulder pauldrons, it also had a sweetheart neckline and nothing at all beyond that point. Her forearms were covered by silver vambraces, while a skirt of studded leather pteruges hung from her waist down to her knees, at which point, a pair of silver greaves took up the duty. Upon her face, she wore an M-shaped headpiece that protected her brow, nose, and cheeks but left her hair - which was incredibly long and voluminous, reaching down to her waist in rippling waves of blue and green so that it resembled the ocean surging against the shores of Anima – free to flow unobstructed. Her eyes, which Pyrrha saw more clearly as the girl turned at her approach, were purple and accentuated by the smokey eye-shadow applied above them. In one hand, she lightly held a pair of light javelins, while across her back was slung a crescent-shaped shield with a golden horseshoe painted upon it and a two-handed sword with a long handle and an even longer blade that curved gently towards the tip; upon her right hip, she bore a horn, cut from the head of some proud and noble beast, tipped with silver and wound about with ancient runes.

As Pyrrha approached - and as she became aware of Pyrrha's approach - she knelt down in the street before her. "Pyrrha Nikos, it is an honour to meet you. My name is Swift Foot Thrax, daughter of Lord Diomedes, and I have come to join you in your noble cause."

That was a lot to take in from a single sentence - especially on top of everything else that was on her mind - and Pyrrha paused a moment to digest it. "Lord Diomedes? You are the Steward's daughter?" The House of Thrax had been prominent and powerful since the golden age of Mistral, rising from their power base upon the island of Thrace to contest with Rutulus for second place in Mistral after the House of Nikos, eventually achieving the position of stewards to the emperors themselves. There were no more emperors now, but the stewards remained, and the Lord Thrax possessed one of the two permanent seats on the council, Lionheart holding the other. "Has your father changed his mind about our enterprise, then? And please, rise to your feet; no one should kneel before me."

"Many in Mistral there are who would dispute such modesty," Swift Foot replied, though she rose to her feet all the same. "As for my father," she added, glancing down at the ground for a moment, "I'm afraid he is as cold to your endeavours as he has ever been...but I cannot agree with him. What you do is just and righteous, and you shame us and our noble houses by your actions while we sit idle. I have three older sisters skilled in arms, and my father has a loyal guard at his disposal, but my sisters are content to squat within the palace, letting their swords rust, while my father keeps his guard ringed about him as though it were he, and not our people, menaced by the grimm. Why, even Haven Academy stands empty, its headmaster hidden and deaf to the entreaties of the kingdom. In all of Mistral, there is only you who stands for the realm."

"I do not stand alone, thank goodness," Pyrrha murmured.

"Of course," Swift Foot said. "I meant you and your followers, of whom I would be one. I cannot sit idle, not while Mistral bleeds and burns and suffers. If you are the only one who will fight for this kingdom, then I will fight beside you."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together. The House of Thrax had produced some great warriors in the past and recently; Swift Foot's eldest sister, Terri Belle, had graduated top of her class at Haven Academy and reached the one-on-one rounds of the Vytal Festival, where an Atlesian named Robyn Hill had bested her on her way to claim the crown of victory; Lord Diomedes had two other daughters also, each of great repute, if less accomplishment. But Pyrrha had not heard of Swift Foot, whom she took to be the youngest daughter. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Swift Foot said. "I would have started Haven this year, but in these times, I would rather fight for Mistral than sit in a classroom."

"I cannot fault you for that," Pyrrha said. "Most of our company here feel the same way, myself included." She held out one hand. "Welcome, Swift Foot Thrax."

Swift Foot smiled, her eyes sparkling a little as, instead of taking Pyrrha's hand, she placed her own upon her heart. "I pledge myself into the service of Pyrrha Nikos. My strength is yours, as mine honour be thine."

"And I will care for your honour as I do your life and strength," Pyrrha vowed. "Now, if you come inside, I'll introduce you to-" She was cut off her scroll beginning to buzz loudly. "Excuse me," Pyrrha murmured to Swift Foot, who indicated with her look that she took no offence as Pyrrha pulled out her scroll; it was Jaune.

"Pyrrha," he cried, as Pyrrha accepted the call. "Where are you?"

"I'm just outside the house," Pyrrha replied. "Is something wrong?"

Jaune nodded. "It seems like the grimm are going absolutely insane to the north; we've had four distress calls just come in, one after the other."

"Four!" Pyrrha gasped. They'd never had more than two at once before. How are we supposed to handle four distress calls? "All grimm?"

"Yes."

Pyrrha felt her heart begin to pound just a little faster. "Is everyone arming?"

"Yes."

"And do you have teams lined up?"

"Yes," Jaune said.

What would I do without you? "I knew you would," Pyrrha said. "Who do I have, and where am I going?"

"It's just Prawn and Jalapeno," Jaune said. "Headed to Thebes."

Hector's girlfriend. His pregnant girlfriend. Please let us be in time. "I'll be waiting for them right here, with a new recruit who'll be accompanying me."

Swift Foot grinned eagerly. "Looks like I got here just in time."

Thebes

Thebes

Three months earlier...

Pyrrha had thought that, once she reached the point at which she had mastered her semblance so completely that people began to seriously speculate that she didn’t have one, that she was done with learning new powers. Of course, that somewhat complacent attitude was a good part of the reason why the revelation of the power of the Maidens had come as such a shock to her, but it also meant that once she found herself in possession of the power of one of the Maidens, she also found herself back in a position she had not been in for some years: trying to learn to control a power so well that nobody even knew that she had it.

And it was control that was the problem, not use, or at least not basic uses. Pyrrha didn't struggle to get a reaction out of her newly-given magic, any more than she had struggled to use her semblance when she had first unlocked it. She could feel the mantle of the Fall Maiden coiled around her aura; when she closed her eyes, she could visualise her aura as a red light shining from within her, but now, there were bands of brilliant gold wrapped about the red like a spiralling bracelet embracing her arm. She could feel its power, through her aura but yet distinct from it, and she could reach for that power as easily as she reached for her semblance. It hummed contentedly when she touched it, as it were, through her aura, as though it wanted to be used.

Pyrrha opened her eyes. She sat within a cabin on one of the converted skyliners that the Mistralians had brought to Vale and which now bore the survivors of their host - and all the Mistral-born student huntsmen too - back home. The cabin was narrow, with half the space being taken up by the two bunks for herself and Jaune, but there was enough room for her to sit cross-legged and meditate. The door was closed, and she was alone, Jaune having stepped out to get some fresh air. Before her sat, upon the metallic floor, a glass of water and a planted bedding tray that she had bought in Vale before they left; daffodil bulbs waited beneath the soil, invisible to her eye. For now, at least.

Pyrrha focussed upon the glass of water first, raising her hand and reaching out towards the drink, both physically and with her new magic.

Ice began to form upon the glass, spreading upwards towards the rim and downwards towards the floor and outwards across the water itself, freezing it into a solid, opaque white block. Pyrrha frowned. This was the easy part. The hard part was stopping the ice from spreading across the floor as well as the glass.

The hard part was stopping.

The ice reached the bottom of the glass before it had reached the top or spread throughout the water in it. Pyrrha willed it to stop heading down, to move only upwards and across, but she struggled to communicate her will to her magic. She watched in frustration as sparkling crystalline ice began to form upon the floor, crawling outwards in a ring.

Pyrrha clenched her fist with a soft, wordless huff of frustration, forcibly pulling her magic completely back inside of her, stopping the progress of ice everywhere: across the floor and within the glass. Pyrrha unclenched her fist. It was always thus; she could set loose the magic, but once she had set it loose, she could not then control it short of ceasing to use it completely. And then there was the problem that once she got emotional, it would spring out, whether by her leave or no, like the fire that had just sprung into the palm of her hand as she thought about this.

She sighed and held the fire down beside the glass, holding it there until, eventually, after some minutes of staring at it, the ice melted. Water began to drip down and spread out across the floor, lapping at her greaves. This was about the greatest level of control that she possessed over her magic: she could conjure up a modest flame in the palm of her hand and keep it modest without extinguishing it, which she didn't do until the water in the glass began to boil and bubble, at which point, she withdrew her hand and quenched the flame by closing her fist. She had that much control over it, but she needed more: she needed to be able to control when the magic came and when it stayed hidden. She needed to be able to conjure more than a small fire burning on her palm without fearing that she was about to unleash a raging inferno that she could not stop. She needed to achieve the same pitch-perfect mastery of her magic that she had achieved with her semblance and to do so without the years of training that had taken her. Until she could wield the powers of the Fall Maiden as subtly as she had - until recently - wielded Polarity, she would be forced to simply not use it at all, just as she had not used her semblance in her early days in competition. Not use it, save in direst need. Just as importantly, and just as concerning for Pyrrha, was the fact that even when she achieved a measure of control over her power, that control would be limited to the most basic manifestations of her magic; without someone like Professor Ozpin to teach her, she had no idea how to use her powers to accomplish the feats that she had seen Cinder perform with them or that were credited to the ancient Maidens in the stories that Sunset had discovered. Of course, the conditions for training at the moment were less than ideal - she hadn't dared try to manifest her powers as gale or breeze or thundering tempest for obvious reasons - but when would they be ideal? Even when she got home, she would hardly be able to flaunt her abilities whilst she learned to control them.

Perhaps it was all a fool's game, and she should simply accept that she had been given these abilities to hold, not to use. The most important duty of a Maiden was to keep her powers safe so that they might be passed on, in due time, to the next worthy Maiden, and they were kept safest by being kept secret. But it irked Pyrrha to accept such an analysis. If secrecy was all, the powers could have stayed with Sunset in her cell; instead, Sunset had sacrificed that which she had long desired and strived for, giving up these powers to Pyrrha that they might be used, for the good of the world. And even if it had not been so, even if Pyrrha had come to Maidenhood by some more common means, then she still would have felt - have feared - that the time was coming when the powers of the Maidens could not remain hidden from the world.

Because if it came to a choice between preserving the secrecy of her magic and saving a life...well, that was no choice at all, was it?

Pyrrha started as the door opened, but fortunately, it was Jaune. Of course it was; he had the only other keycard to get into the room, but Pyrrha still felt a little nervous every time the door opened on her in this position.

The door closed behind him as he walked into the room. Jaune looked at the water on the floor. "How's it going?"

Pyrrha sighed. "The same as ever." She glanced at the bedding tray beside her. "Although you're just in time for me to try something new."

"You mean the reason you brought those bulbs on board?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Do you remember the story that is all - almost all - that remains of the memory of the Maidens?"

"I...guess so," Jaune said, as he sat down on the bottom bunk, his back hunched, as much as his armour would allow, to avoid him banging his head.

"The Maidens were not created to be great warriors," Pyrrha reminded him. "The magic was not bestowed upon the first Maidens that they might go forth and fight or even so that they could guard the vaults housing the four relics. Magic was granted to four young women because they had brought hope to the old man who blessed them, after they had blessed him in turn with their virtue. I...I know that I am a warrior and that it is because I am a warrior that I was chosen, first by Professor Ozpin and then by Sunset, but all the same...since I have this magic, I would like to use it for something more than to bring about death and destruction. Rather, in however small and secret a fashion, I should like to see if I can use it to bring about life, as the early Maidens did."

And so, she held out her hand towards the tray and stretched out her magic towards the soil where the daffodil bulbs slumbered, willing them to grow, to come forth as the first Summer Maiden had brought forth the bounty of the world in the old man's garden in the story that Pyrrha had heard as a little girl.

For a moment, nothing happened. At least, Pyrrha could see nothing happening, although she could feel the magic rushing through her arm. And then, as she watched, she saw the soil begin to shift, to move as though there was a worm beneath it wriggling about. But it was not a worm; rather, it was the tips of the daffodil plants that began to sprout up out of the soil, nubs which grew to long green shoots, rising and rising, climbing upwards towards her hand before, as Pyrrha gasped in surprise, they began to flower. She pulled back her magic as the yellow flowers opened, facing her as though she were the sun. She ceased to work on them, fearing what too much magic she could not fully control might do to them; she had done enough already.

Pyrrha laughed delightedly, unable to help herself, as she beheld the fruits of her magic. "Did you see that?" she asked Jaune. "I did that." Another laugh emerged from her throat. "I did that," she repeated.

Jaune nodded. "And it was...amazing," he whispered.

"I'm not sure it was as much as all that," Pyrrha replied, "but I'm just glad that I was able to do it." She was pleased that, in however small a way, she had proven - at least to herself - that she could do more with this precious gift bestowed upon her than fight or kill with it. However absurd it might seem, it made her feel just a little more worthy of this blessed burden than she had felt before.

It comforted her, and in this time, she felt in need of comfort.

Present Day…
The airship sped for Thebes alone.

All the rest had dispersed, scattered to other places in need under the commands of Sun, Violet, and Nadir, the last being given his chance at leadership upon Arslan’s recommendation. There was only one ship bound for Thebes, its propeller beating through the air as it drove them on, bursting through the clouds on their way to the endangered town.

The mood within was quiet and tense. Hector’s face was grim, his jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his spear. Jade’s face had turned even paler than usual as she pursed her lips tightly together. The tension in Ren’s muscles was plain to see. Those who did not seem so on edge about the situation, like Lauren, knew better than to speak in these circumstances, and so, a silence ruled amongst them as they flew.

Pyrrha didn’t try to break the silence. She didn’t try to offer false reassurance to those who felt oppressed by this situation. It was not the question of their own survival that dominated – there was no doubt in her mind, and she hoped not in the minds of those who fought alongside her, that they would defeat the grimm – but rather, the survival of those for whom they fought. How much of Thebes would remain by the time they defeated the grimm? How many people of that town would be left? How many would they be too late to save?

That question was the one they couldn’t answer. That question was the reason everyone looked as though they were trying to make the airship go faster through sheer force of will.

At least they had a strong following wind which, as if in obedience to their collective will and desire, had sprung up behind them as they flew and bore them forth with some of the greater swiftness they felt sore in need of.

I would rather face some great lieutenant of Salem in the open field, with no innocent lives at stake, than fight any more of these battles for the survival of others.

But fate had decreed that it should not be so. Fate had decreed that she should take up the charge of protecting Mistral and its settlements. This was the destiny that she had chosen, in the end.

She noticed Swift Foot perched upon the edge of the airship, the wind blowing through her long, wavy hair, ruffling its soft waves as she held onto the open doorway with one hand and looked out of the vessel.

As a baptism of fire, this will not be a gentle one.

Pyrrha knelt down beside her. “Do you see anything?”

Swift Foot shook her head. “Nothing yet,” she admitted.

Pyrrha nodded. “This battle…you haven’t joined us for the easiest first fight you could have had as part of our group.”

“All the more reason for me to join you now,” Swift Foot said, a smile playing across her face.

“I suppose,” Pyrrha acknowledged. “When the fighting begins, stay close to me. I would rather not have to tell your father how you died, however brave your end might be.”

“Trust me,” Swift Foot said. “I have no intention of dying today, or any other day for some time yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Pyrrha said. She stood up, feeling the wind blowing through the airship upon the back of her neck. “Jaune, do you see anything over Thebes yet?” The drones were often faster than their airships. There was no response. “Jaune?”

“Sorry, Pyrrha,” Jaune said. “It’s just there’s a lot more to try and take in here than usual, plus with more drones in the air, I’m having to help out as an operator too. I – ah! Making it even harder is the fact that we’ve got nevermores in the skies, so it’s a little difficult to get a clear look around without getting our equipment eaten. At the moment, I think the walls are keeping out most of the grimm, but I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to last.”

“What kind of grimm are we talking about?” Pyrrha asked.

“As far as I can see? A regular zoo of different kinds,” Jaune said. “Beowolves, ursai, creeps; there’s a goliath battering the wall, that’s why I think it’s not going to hold for very long. But I think I’ve identified a rally point. Hang on; I’m switching to the general frequency: Hector, the tall building on the eastern side of the central square, what is it?”

“The Old Palace?” Hector said. “It used to be the lord’s seat, when there was a lord; now, it’s a hotel.”

“So it’s an old building; are the walls as thick as they look?” Jaune asked.

Hector nodded. “Yes.”

“Then that’s where you should get everybody,” Jaune said. “When you reach the town, Team Jalapeno will defend the palace and everyone inside while Team Prawn will assist in search and rescue; once everyone has retreated inside the palace, then-“

“Search and destroy,” Nora declared gleefully.

“Exactly,” Jaune said. “Take out all the grimm.”

“I need to find Andromache,” Hector insisted.

“We will find her,” Pyrrha promised. “And protect her, and your child. I swear, we will let no harm befall her.”

Hector hesitated, before he nodded. “Very well. I will do as I am commanded, my lady.”

Jaune said, “You should be in sight of Thebes-“

“I see it!” Swift Foot cried, pointing out of the airship. “There it is!”

Pyrrha grabbed the open doorway as she, too, leaned out of the airship, casting a shadow over Swift Foot as she did so.

The first thing that she saw was the columns of smoke rising into the sky, dark plumes like snakes uncoiling as they wound their way upwards toward the sun, darkness around which the nevermores swooped and dived and circled over the town.

Thebes was a town, not a village, and so it was a little better prepared to defend itself against this kind of an attack: it had a wall of brown stone and mud brick, rising perhaps some thirty feet up above the ground and wide enough for a man to walk along it, with wooden watchtowers rising up at intervals just behind. Pyrrha could already see muzzle flashes coming from the wall, as the townsfolk, with whatever guns they possessed, tried to keep the grimm at bay while they waited for assistance to arrive.

A nevermore swooped down from out of the sky, and some of those muzzle flashes were silenced.

“Jaune, can you contact the town?” Pyrrha demanded.

“After the initial call for help, we’ve gotten no responses. They must have abandoned the communications relay to take shelter. At least, I hope that’s what happened.”

“So do I,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I might have another way we can let them know that help has arrived,” Swift Foot said, and without waiting for anyone to reply, she raised her great horn to her lips and blew upon it, a strong clear call that split the skies as it echoed out around them. Pyrrha felt a chill down her spine as she heard the call with a sense of urgency, a feeling that she ought to go to Swift Foot’s aid, however absurd that might be, and yet, she found it also gave her courage: now let the enemies of Mistral beware.

Certainly, the horn call appeared to have reached the ears of the nevermores, who responded with shrieking cries of their own as, their flights disrupted, they seemed to wobble in mid-air, breaking off their descents upon the town. Indeed, as the airship bore them ever closer to Thebes, Pyrrha could see the shapes of the grimm around, small at this distance, the size of insects to her eyes as they swarmed around the town like ants assailing a nest of termites; they busied themselves in packs and herds, hurling themselves in black masses against the defences, but even they appeared to have halted when they heard the horn call, their heads turned to gaze with burning red eyes up at the airship.

One nevermore, bolder than the others, swooped across the sky, passing through a pillar of smoke to head in their direction with a cry of rage.

"Pyrrha! There's a nevermore coming right at you!" Jaune cried, because sometimes, even master tacticians can do no more than state the obvious.

"Turn the airship," Pyrrha called to the pilot up in the cockpit. "Bring us broadside facing the creature."

The airship turned slowly in the air, presenting more of the side and central compartment to the nevermore which continued to close the distance with them, black wings beating at the air.

Pyrrha reached over her shoulder for Miló, her weapon shifting into rifle mode as she took aim and opened fire at the giant grimm which flew towards them, gaping maw open, claws and talons grasping eagerly. Miló barked defiantly; arrows flew from Alkim's bow, Winter’s Friend, as her arm moved swifter than the eye could follow; pink trails followed the grenades that spat from the mouth of Magnhild to slam with equally pink explosions into the grimm. But, though the nevermore shrieked as the grenades struck home, though it was covered in arrows jutting from its great black feathers, nevertheless, it neither died nor turned from its course towards them. It kept on coming, and Miló's bullets seemed to discomfort it not at all. Pyrrha emptied her magazine, but though she reloaded - her hands moving with such practiced swiftness that she didn't need to take her eyes off the grimm that approached - she did not resume firing when it was clear that it would do no good. Miló simply didn't have the calibre for a grimm this size. None of them did, judging by the effects of their fire.

“Jade, use your semblance,” Lauren said.

“Against something that size?” Jade squawked. “I don’t have enough aura.”

But I have power enough of a different sort, Pyrrha thought.

In these months defending Mistral, Pyrrha had never used the powers of the Fall Maiden in anger. But, while she had endeavoured to preserve the secrecy of her powers as - she had no doubt - Professor Ozpin would have wished, she had always been clear with herself she would not place that cloak of secrecy higher than the lives of her comrades, or of those they fought to protect.

It seems the time has come.

Pyrrha raised her hand and felt the golden coils about her aura pulsing with anticipation as she unleashed the magic in the midst of battle for the first time.

The nevermore flew towards the airship, screeching in that horrible, high-pitched cry as it came. But as it cried, and as it flew, so it seemed to slow; in fact, it did slow, it slowed and became more ungainly in the air, wobbling up and down, having to flap its wings more wildly in order to maintain its altitude and course as ice began to coat its feathers. It was as though the beast had flown too high, rising into the deathly cold that ruled the higher regions of the sky, but it had not risen too high, this was not the cold of height that was spreading across its body. This was Pyrrha, able to let loose her power without fear of the consequences of letting it run rampant. The ice spread across the neveremore's dark form, from the tips of its feathers to coating them completely, from the wings to the body; the talons became frozen in place as icicles dangled from them; the nevermore's wings ceased to bend properly, they could only flap up and down like slabs of wood on hinges; the nevermore shrieked in alarm as the ice spread across its body and down its neck, engulfing the white bone head and the wicked beak in a layer of crystalline, sparkling ice.

The grimm fell to Remnant, its frozen body turning in air. It had started to turn to ashes even before it struck the ground.

Pyrrha clenched her fist, reining back her magic with a heavy breath that made her bosom heave. Swift Foot was looking at her in awed amazement, and she was not alone in doing so; there was astonishment in the eyes of Team JHAL, and a mixture of jealousy and admiration in the face of Arslan Altan. Pyrrha looked away from all of them. She would need to give some sort of an explanation to JHAL, and to Swift Foot, in due course, but not right now. Right now, there were more nevermores haunting the skies over Thebes, and however Swift Foot's horn had dismayed them, they seemed to be recovering from it now.

"Take us in," Pyrrha commanded. "Don't worry about the nevermores."

"Pyrrha," Jaune said, "what are you doing?"

"What I must, Jaune," Pyrrha murmured, "and nothing more."

She heard Jaune sigh on the other end of the line, but she was grateful that he didn't try and talk her out of it. "Good luck out there," he whispered. "You've totally got this."

There was a moment of hesitation before the airship changed course again to head directly into Thebes and into the flock of a half-dozen nevermores who circled overhead like carrion birds.

As the airship approached, passing over the stone wall to the cheers of the defenders on the rampart, they stopped circling and began to close in on the intruding interloper.

“Are you sure about this?” Arslan asked as the harsh cries of the nevermores rang out, drawing guttural growls and roars from the ground-bound grimm beneath. “I prefer to fight the grimm with my feet on the ground.”

“And we will,” Pyrrha assured her. “Just as soon as I’ve taken care of the sky.”

She stepped back from the edge of the airship doors, so that she stood instead in the centre of the compartment. Pyrrha closed her eyes and stretched out her arms on either side of her.

Aura. She could feel her aura burning within her, the crimson light of her soul surrounded by the golden rope of magic that now was bound to her. Pyrrha reached for that golden rope, and it exploded with a brilliant light that blinded her inner eye.

She opened her eyes as they began to burn with eerie green fire. She flung out her magic in six directions, coating the floor of the airship with frost on its way out to the open doors, causing icy droplets to form in the air as her magic travelled on its way to the nevermores, the grimm descending on them as though they were the hunters instead of the prey.

And the magic took them all. One by one, but in such quick succession that none were left with time to escape, they were all consumed by the ice that spread across their feathers and their claws, that froze their wings and stuck them in place, that covered their entire forms in the deadly cold.

One by one, the magic took them, and one by one, they fell to the ground like dead partridges shot down by the guns of the shooters, save that these partridges were all mere dust and ashes before they completed their descent.

Pyrrha knelt on the floor of the airship, her greave hitting the deck with a metallic thump, as she pulled the magic back inside herself, wrestling it under control, out of sight, and out of use. As the flames died around her eyes, she saw the ice that she had conjured across the floor of the airship.

I still need more control.

“Pyrrha?” Swift Foot asked.

Arslan knelt down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Pyrrha took a deep breath before she got to her feet. “I’m fine,” she said. The use of magic was temporarily wearying – if only because she wasn’t used to it – but her aura was completely intact, and her strength was unimpaired.

“What was that?” Jade murmured.

“A miracle that this town needed,” Hector replied. “Now we must deliver another.”

Pyrrha looked over her shoulder at him. “Quite right, Hector, and so we shall.” With her Polarity, she summoned Miló into her right hand and Akoúo̱ into her left. “Jaune, do you have clearer eyes now?”

“Sky is clear, and my eyes are open,” Jaune reported. “I don’t know how much longer that wall is going to hold.”

“Understood,” Pyrrha said. “Team Jalapeno, continue to the palace; Team Prawn will drop here and aid the civilians.”

“Got it,” Jade said, popping a sweet into her mouth for good luck.

“Fortune favour you,” Hector said. He hesitated. “If you-“

“We will protect her,” Pyrrha said. “And all of them.”

They were over the wall and into the town now, and although the wall itself yet stood, it was clear that there were plenty of grimm who had gotten over the wall by scaling it in places where it was undefended. A beowolf had climbed a tall spire so that it was almost level with their airship, until Alkim shot it in the chest and it tumbled to the ground with a whimper before disintegrating. Ursai and beowolves alike prowled the streets, while the people took refuge upon the flat roofs of the two- or three-storey buildings. Except the grimm were starting to scale those, too.

One such building was close by, a flat, low tower of yellow brick with painted shutters on the windows and a group of people – men, women, and children – huddled on top of the roof. They held out their pleading hands to Pyrrha and her companions as a beowolf, the first of many, dragged itself over the ledge with its claws.

“With me!” Pyrrha cried, as she cast Miló – in spear mode - with a strong arm to impale the grimm in the centre of its back; the beast howled in its death throes as Pyrrha leapt from the airship, her legs driving her across the blue sky to clear the ledge and land upon the roof. She held out one hand, and with her semblance recalled her spear into her outstretched grip. She ignored – out of necessity – the civilians calling her name; rather, she leapt up to see over their heads, Miló changing from spear to rifle in her hands as she put two shots into a beowolf scaling the wall on the other side of the pathetic huddle clustering for shelter in the centre of the roof.

An ursa poked its head above the parapet, but its head was all that it got the chance to show as Arslan hit it with a flying kick that sent the ursa – and Arslan with it – dropping down out of sight into the street. Nora followed, laughing wildly as she waved her hammer above her head, while Ren jumped to the roof first, a slightly long-suffering look upon his face, before he too leapt down to join Nora and Arslan.

They had all descended on the left of the building, which Pyrrha took to mean made it pretty secure, so she turned her attention to the right, dashing across the dusty roof to decapitate a beowolf who sought to gain the rooftop.

Swift Foot was the last to land, dropping to her knees as she made the longest leap from the now departing airship, her long hair flying in its wave-like curls.

An ursa major rose up behind her, long spikes sprouting from its black coat and armour plates upon its shoulders.

Swift Foot turned and sliced off its head in a single smooth stroke of her rhomphaia.

No other grimm attempted to gain the roof. Pyrrha dashed to the left-hand side, where Arslan, Ren, and Nora had departed, to see them locked in battle with an ever diminishing number of grimm, who were falling one by one to Arslan’s fists, Nora’s mighty hammer, and Ren’s guns and blades.

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, “do we have a clear route to the centre?”

Jaune did not reply for a moment; Pyrrha could see him in her mind’s eye studying the aerial videofeed, trying to find a way that placed the civilians in the least danger.

“There’s no clear way,” Jaune said, “but I’ll talk you through the safest path I can find.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said as she turned to the group who had taken refuge up here. There were about twenty of them, of all ages, from old women with their heads covered to young children clutching their mother’s skirts. “Can you all move? You cannot stay here; it isn’t safe. We will lead you to the Old Palace where some of my comrades are waiting for us.”

An old woman, her skin wrinkled and her back bent, got to her feet. “We can all move, my lady, though I cannot guarantee that we can all move swiftly.”

“It cannot be helped,” Pyrrha said, because she had not the strength to have a huntress carry everyone who was a little slow on their feet. “Please, help one another as best you can, but we will protect you nonetheless. Swift Foot, bring up the rear.”

Swift Foot nodded. “As you wish.”

Pyrrha herself switched Miló back into rifle mode – she had three shots left – as she approached the open hatch that led down into the building itself. The wooden staircase downward looked so narrow and rickety, it was a wonder they had managed to get the more infirm of the people here up onto the roof in the first place.

They had done it because they would not leave any of their people behind, and with that spirit, they would survive this crisis and rebuild any damage the grimm might cause.

Pyrrha led the way, the wooden boards creaking beneath her, no matter how lightly she tried to tread as she descended into the third floor of the tower, to a landing strewn about with rugs in bright and complex patterns and a number of doors leading off the landing into the rooms. There was no sign of any grimm, nor any sound of them either.

She padded across the landing, her footfalls muffled now by all the carpets covering the floor beneath; she checked one room, and then another; they were clear, still no sign of any grimm. Perhaps the door had been locked and they had found it easier to scale the wall than to break down the door.

“Come down,” she called up to those on the roof, while she made her way to the next staircase down onto the second floor.

Pyrrha didn’t look back, but she could hear the first of them descending the stairs from the roof, the steps creaking heavily as they did so. Pyrrha walked quickly, and with steps as softly as she could, down the flight of stairs immediately before her.

She heard the door into the tower splinter. Her fingers tightened a little upon the trigger.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she heard Arslan demand, before a beowolf yelped in pain.

“Arslan?” Pyrrha called. “Was that the only grimm to get inside?”

“It was the first to get through the door, trying to get away,” Arslan replied. “It’s all clear out here, for now.”

Pyrrha only had to follow her out of the building to see the truth of it: Arslan, Ren, and Nora had cleared the street of grimm, at least for the time being. The four huntsmen took up positions at the ends of the narrow lane that ran beside the little tower as Swift Foot shepherded the civilians down from the roof to stand, huddled together, in the middle of the alley. Parents held their children in their arms, the young supporting the old as best they could; Pyrrha saw one or two of the smaller elders being carried upon the strongest backs of the not so old.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, "do we still have a route to the hotel?"

"Yes," Jaune replied. "Are you ready to move?"

Pyrrha turned to her comrades. "I'll lead the way, with Nora behind me. Ren, Swift Foot, on either side; Arslan, will you please bring up the rear?"

"You got it," Arslan said.

To the people, Pyrrha said, "Stay together, please watch out for one another. If you see that someone has fallen behind or gotten lost, then call out. Are you ready?"

"Who is really ready for such as this?" asked the old woman from the rooftop.

A slightly weary chuckle escaped Pyrrha's lips. "That is an excellent point," she conceded. She tried to meet as many of the eyes of those who were depending on her and her comrades as possible. "We will keep you safe," she vowed. She turned away and once more raised Miló to her shoulder, ready to fire. "Jaune, where do we go?"

Pyrrha led the way, but it was Jaune's directions that she followed as he prompted her to go down this street, to take that turn, to go by the slightly more roundabout route to avoid some grimm; he no longer fought beside her, but he watched over her, her angel in the sky vigilantly ensuring no danger could sneak up on her undetected.

The route that Jaune directed her to take, through winding alleys and down back streets, past shuttered shops and silent houses, was not completely free of grimm, but it was as free of grimm as could be hoped for in such a situation as this. Those grimm they did encounter - a trio of beowolves here, a half-dozen creeps there, an ursa or two - were swept away like chaff before Pyrrha's swift sword, Nora's grenades, Swift Foot's shining blade, or Ren's green tracers; once or twice, a beowolf or an ursa came sniffing up behind the - slow moving, it had to be admitted - party, but Arslan's fists were sufficient to take care of them without assistance from the rest of the team. Their route saw them encounter not only grimm, but other survivors too, those who had sheltered upon other rooftops or barricaded their doors and windows, but who emerged or descended as they saw Pyrrha and her friends draw near. Some of them had bows or guns - rifles and shotguns for sport or hunting - or crossbows; they were welcome, but without aura or training, they were still in need of the protection of a huntsman; most had no weapons at all, but swelled the numbers of those sheltering under Pyrrha's protection as they made their way, both slowly and as swiftly as could be managed, towards the central square where the Old Palace and its stout walls waited.

"It looks like some people had the idea of taking shelter in the hotel already," Jaune informed her. "But that means-"

"They've drawn the grimm," Ren concluded.

"Unfortunately, yes," Jaune confirmed. "I think one of the reasons you had such an easy time up until now was that most of the grimm in town have already been drawn towards it. You're going to have to fight your way through."

"For what did we come here but to fight?" Swift Foot asked.

They arrived at the square, where they were confronted with the same sight that Jaune had already seen from his vantage point above: grimm swarmed over the paved plaza, beringels, beowolves, and ursai filling the air up with their foul cries. They had torn a bronze statue of a heroic figure in armour down from his plinth and trampled on him, gouging and clawing at the monument as though the sight of it offended them as they growled and snarled at the Old Palace and all who took refuge within it.

Team JHAL had made it there in time: Alkim was on the roof shooting down her deadly shafts at any grimm who came too close, and with her were all the people of Thebes who were armed with guns to shoot or bows to loose, and some of the unarmed people of the town were tearing tiles and stones from the roof itself to hurl them desperately down upon the grimm; Hector stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders looking considerably more sturdy than the doors themselves, fending off the monsters with a spear in one hand and a knife in the other; Jade, too, had a knife in her off-hand, but as she stood just behind Hector, her main weapon was the wand that she was using to channel blasts of ice dust at the grimm; Lauren appeared to be everywhere in the square, using their illusions to mislead and misdirect the monsters. A beringel leapt out of the press of grimm; Jade gestured with her knife towards it, and the grimm was turned to stone, shattering into pieces as it fell to the cobbled surface of the square. Jade faltered, half-collapsing against the hotel doorway; her semblance - Petrification - was powerful, but - unlike Ruby’s silver eyes, the power of which it slightly resembled - it consumed a great deal of her aura to use it once, even against an average grimm.

"Ren," Pyrrha said, "stay here and defend these people until we've cleared a path for you."

"Very well," Ren murmured.

"Arslan, Nora, Swift Foot," Pyrrha commanded, "follow me."

Once more, Swift Foot raised her horn to her lips and blew a long, defiant blast that echoed out across the town, a call which, though it drew the attention of the grimm, also made them cower and cringe before the sound, their bloodthirsty howling turning to frightened mewling as they shrank back from the sound that seemed to physically pain them.

Pyrrha didn't let the opportunity slip away; while the grimm cowered, she charged for them, Akoúo̱ held before her, Miló shifting fluidly into spear-mode in her hands. She charged, trusting that her friends would follow her, and as she charged, she heard the crackle of Ren's StormFlowers from behind, joined by the lower-pitched booming sounds of the civilian rifles. Pyrrha rushed towards an ursa major, her boots pounding a staccato drumbeat on the cobblestones, her sash like a fiery ribbon as it streamed behind her. The ursa was sluggish to react, dismayed and confused by Swift Foot's horn, and Pyrrha leapt off the ground to slam her shield into the grimm's chest, knocking it off balance and flat on its back, bony spines piercing the cobbles just as Pyrrha's spear pierced its throat to make an end of it. Miló switched from spear to sword in her hand as Pyrrha jumped down from the ursa's disappearing body to hack the head off a stunned beringel, then back to spear as she impaled a beowolf through the mouth. Her friends and comrades joined the battle: Nora dispatched two beowolves with a single swing of her hammer; Arslan kicked one high into the air before gutting it with her knife; Swift Foot drove her sword into an ursa's chest before drawing it out and spinning gracefully upon her toe to slice the grimm in half with her long blade.

The grimm were beginning to recover now from whatever spell Swift Foot's horn had cast upon them, and they met the huntsmen with teeth and claws and howls of outrage, swarming to meet both Pyrrha's group and Team JHAL guarding the Old Palace. They came in a great black mass masked with white bone, and in a mass, the protectors of Mistral cut through them; a beowolf lunged at Pyrrha, but she caught it on her shield and hoisted it over her head to dump it on the ground before she finished it off with a single thrust of Miló. Arslan traded punches with an ursa major, her fists clashing with its clawed paws as they each countered every stroke the other sought to make, brown hands and black paws moving ever more swiftly until Arslan unleashed a pulse of aura that rippled through the ursa's body and caused it to burst open like an overfilled bag. Nora brought her hammer down upon the head of a beringel, crushing it in a single hit. Swift Foot's sword weaved silver traces in the air as she slashed her way gracefully through a half-dozen immature beowolves.

Nora laughed with gleeful wild abandon as she slammed her hammer down onto the ground with such force that all the ursai that had gathered around her were knocked clean off their feet; Pyrrha and Swift Foot rushed to assist her in finishing them off. Arrows flew from Alkim's bow to take the eyes - and life - of an alpha beowolf. Hector grappled bodily with a beringel, wrestling it by its trunk-like arms onto its side so he could drive his knife into its throat. Another beringel began to charge at him, but Arslan buried her knife in its thigh and by the thread hauled it backwards to where her deadly fist was waiting for it. Swift Foot let a beowolf charge past her before she cut off its head, then drove her rhomphaia into the mouth of another; a third might have taken her from behind if Pyrrha had not thrown her shield at the grimm to stun it. She left the beowolf for Swift Foot to finish off; she held out her now-empty shield hand and called upon her semblance, not her magic, to pick up the fallen statue that the grimm had dethroned and use it to crush a particularly large and ferocious-looking ursa beneath its weight. And thus, they retook the square, slaughtering their way through the grimm and clearing a path to the palace doors for Ren to usher their charges through.

"Jade," Pyrrha asked, noting that Team JHAL's leader was still slumped against the doorway, "how's your aura?"

Jade pulled out her scroll - and a lokum, which she popped into her mouth. "Yellow," she said. "I'll be fine as long as I don't pick any fights."

Pyrrha smiled very slightly. "Hector, is Andromache safe inside?"

Hector's look was grim as he shook his head. "I haven't seen her."

"Where might she be?"

"The covered market," Hector suggested.

"I'll-" Pyrrha began.

"I'm afraid there's no time for that right now," Jaune said. "Pyrrha, you need to get to the wall right now; the goliath is about to breach it. Arslan, Ren, Nora, I need you to split up east south west, find any survivors and bring them back to the centre. New girl-"

"She's with me," Pyrrha said.

Swift Foot's purple eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded. "I would be honoured."

"I will look for Andromache as soon as I am done at the wall," Pyrrha promised Hector, but she had no time to wait upon his reply, for the north wall called to her, and she took off, feet and arms pounding, leaving Swift Foot to follow. The other girl did, and lived up to her name by drawing level with Pyrrha, her long blade glinting in her hand.

"You fight well," Pyrrha noted, as they ran through the streets.

Swift Foot bowed her head in acknowledgement. "You honour me once again, first with your company and now with your praise."

They kept running, dispatching any grimm they came across along the way: sometimes, they encountered a stray beowolf roaming aimless through the streets; sometimes, they turned aside briefly from their course to answer a cry for help, put an end to some local menace, and send whoever had been in need of aid back towards the Old Palace; sometimes, a particularly confident grimm or two sought to ambush them by leaping down upon them from the rooftops; one and all, Pyrrha and Swift Foot struck them down and continued onwards towards the north wall. As they approached, Pyrrha could hear the angry grunting of the goliath, hear the pounding as it hammered at the wall of rough-hewn stone with its head, and hear too the roaring of the other grimm as they awaited a breach in the walls through which they could flood in with all their malice.

The majority of the defenders on the wall were concentrated here, but their fire and arrows appeared to be of little avail, or at least they did not stop the pounding of the goliath upon the wall. Pyrrha's eyes widened as she saw the stone begin to buckle visibly, bricks coming loose and dust descending from the unsettled rampart. Pyrrha dashed up the wooden steps, the men on the stone parapet making way for her as she looked down from the wall to see the mighty goliath, seemingly unaffected by the arrows stuck in its bulk, patiently knocking on the wall, shaking it with the force of its impact, making some of the defenders lose their footing. And behind the goliath massed a great horde of grimm who, rather than scale the wall - if they could, for in this host were many boarbatusks - waited in a crude wedge formation to storm through the ramparts all at once. Pyrrha turned to Swift Foot as she slung Akoúo̱ onto her back.

"Wait here," she said, and leapt off the wall down onto the goliath, descending upon the grimm like a thunderbolt from the heavens. Miló was in its spear form, gripped tightly in Pyrrha's hands, and she fired as she fell for extra power in her descent. As she landed upon the goliath's black and oily back, she thrust her spear into the weak point at the nape of the creature's neck, the tip of Miló extending outwards an extra foot with a bang as Pyrrha fired again for whatever additional power she could muster as she drove her weapon down as far as she could. The goliath roared, it trumpeted in pain, its trunk waving wildly as it reared up on its hind legs, forelegs thrashing in its death agonies. Pyrrha leapt off the back of the dying goliath, spinning head over heels in the air as she summoned Miló into her hand before she landed deftly on her feet, facing the mass of grimm whose way into Thebes she had just eliminated.

The monsters glared at her. Pyrrha stared right back at them, Miló drawn back in one hand, her other hand free.

There was a moment of silence, before a great cry of raging disappointment was torn from the collective throats of all the grimm. Pyrrha could feel them tensing; in a moment, they would descend on her as one and tear her to pieces.

The flames burned green around Pyrrha's eyes as she slammed her hand into the ground and let the magic erupt out of her.

The flames that leapt from her hand - dancing flames of crimson and gold, reminding her for a moment of Sunset's luscious hair in the way it waved and danced - swept through the masses of the grimm, consuming some and making others yelp and howl and cry out in pain. The fires swept through them, and then, when the fires were quenched, Pyrrha hurled herself into their midst, with Swift Foot leaping from the wall to join her.

They were like foxes in a henhouse, and the decimated grimm were ground to dust before them.

When she was growing up, Arslan had loved cartoons. When she was a little kid, getting to watch them had been a reward if she worked hard in her training, but at the same time, they had also been an inspiration to her to keep training, those cartoons about martial-arts superheroes saving the world with their impossible skills.

And now, she found out that there really were magical items – okay, maybe they didn’t grant wishes, but still – and magical people too, and that had gotten her thinking about those cartoons that she used to watch when she was a child, and how they had gone on for so long, and the hero kept getting more and more powerful, that the guys who were almost as strong as the hero at the start of the story had become useless by the end; what good was a martial artist when there were people blowing up planets?

Arslan was starting to feel a little bit like that herself to tell the truth.

It wasn’t jealousy…okay, it wasn’t entirely jealousy or even mostly jealousy; she’d meant what she said to Pyrrha: she was trying to do some good in the world now after too long thinking only of herself and her career and her reputation and all that other stuff. She was trying to be better now, trying to do something for Mistral and all the people who lived there. But what good was she? What was she actually doing? Pyrrha could take out six nevermores just by thinking about it while she…what? She could punch things hard? She had a mean kick? So what?

She’d known that Pyrrha was way beyond her, way beyond what Arslan had thought, ever since the fight with Penny before the Battle of Vale kicked off. She’d known that Penny was way beyond her too, especially once she found her semblance. But that had only gotten worse once she found out that Pyrrha had come by some honest to the gods magic from somewhere.

She supposed that everyone else was in the same boat compared to Pyrrha, but that didn’t mean she liked it any better; she’d liked…gods forgive her, but she’d liked being second best, even if she could only dream of being the top. She liked being at least talked about in the same bracket as P-money. Good cause or not, she still didn’t much care for being lumped in with the rest.

But when she saw that her path – of killing grimm and rescuing the helpless – had led her to the covered market, the place where Hector had said his girlfriend might be, well…she could at least do this. Pyrrha had promised to find the girl, but Pyrrha wasn’t here right now and Arslan was, and it didn’t take the Fall Maiden to check out a place like this.

“Jaune, it’s Arslan,” she said. “I’m outside the covered market; I’m going to see what’s up inside.”

“Okay,” Jaune said. “Be careful in there.”

“Mm-hmm,” Arslan murmured, because Jaune meant well but was a bit of a worrywart sometimes. You couldn’t always stay safe or be careful. Sometimes, you had to take a little bit of risk in life.

Not that going inside was a risk, not for someone like her. She couldn’t even see any grimm around, which might be why Andromache had stayed inside; this might be the kind of place that felt safe.

So Arslan jogged up the stone steps that elevated the market just a little above the street that ran past it and pushed open one of the two metal gates that barred the way before she stepped inside.

The market was dark; there were no lights on and the windows were shuttered, perhaps to keep out the grimm; it was a large open emporium, with space for stalls of all descriptions laid out in the indoor courtyard; this was the place where the local farmers brought their stuff, where the traders visiting from Mistral set up shop, and where locals came day after day. In the dark, it was hard to see much, beyond the rough outline of some of the stalls that had already been set up before the attack started and everyone fled.

“Hello?” Arslan called. “Is anyone there? I’m a huntress with the Myrmidons; I’m here to get you to safety.”

No one answered. A musty silence hung heavy in the air.

“Hello?” Arslan called again. “Andromache?”

There was a noise; it sounded maybe like a whimper that somebody was trying to suppress. It was followed by a trio of taps, tap-tap-tap upon the floor of the market.

Arslan frowned and raised her fists into a guard as she took a step forward, and then another.

She felt something wet and slippery beneath the sole of her moccasin. Arslan looked down and saw the body lying in front of her: a man, slightly heavyset, ripped apart and bleeding all over the floor. She couldn’t see his face or any details about him, and she didn’t really want to; he was just a large bloody shape on the ground to her.

And to think there was a time I thought the grimm weren’t dangerous.

I almost miss those days.

Arslan reached up to the string of fire dust crystals that she wore around her neck, pulling one of them lightly off the string and igniting it with her aura before she tossed it in front of her. It landed on the ground, burning with a soft yellow flame, casting a light all around it. The circle of light was small, but it was enough for Arslan to see a little better as she walked forward. There were statues in here, a group of them clustered together, so probably for sale rather than permanently on display: a hero with his arm raised up, a woman with one breast uncovered, one that was further back into the darkness so that Arslan could only see the silhouetted outline of a winged figure standing on a plinth. Weird.

There was another whimpering sound, coming from…the left? Was it coming from the left over there? Arslan ignited another fire dust crystal and threw it that way, turning her back on the statues as she looked in the direction of her throw.

It didn’t reveal the source of the noise, but the fire did display a cracked statue of a robed woman, lying on her side as if she had been torn from her plinth and thrown across the market.

Arslan whirled, fists up, legs sliding into a combat stance as she turned to face the statue of the winged creature.

The statue that was no longer there, just an empty plinth.

Clever-

The harpy swooped down upon her from out of the darkness, bearing Arslan into the wall with a thump hard enough to crack stone and dent aura as it seized her by the shoulders with its claws. Its bony face was like a bird mask that a kid might wear to a party, save that it was bleached white with blood-red markings on it. It screeched into Arslan’s face as it tried to bite down upon her. Arslan jerked her head out of the way, so that the harpy’s mask slammed into the wall behind her instead, before she kicked out with her right foot into the harpy’s shin. The grimm cried out in pain, its grip on Arslan loosening long enough for Arslan to free one hand and punch the harpy across the jaw.

It released her amidst another screeching cry, its wings stretching out as it flew into the darkness.

A single black feather fluttered down into the firelight.

“Arslan?” Jaune called into her ear. “Arslan, are you okay?”

Arslan didn’t answer. She didn’t need his help, she didn’t need Ren or Nora, she didn’t need Pyrrha’s help with this either. It was just one grimm, and she could handle any one grimm.

Almost any one grimm.

Arslan pulled her knife out of her sleeve, holding it horizontally as she looked around. There was no sign of the harpy anywhere.

But that tap-tap-tap of the grimm’s talons told Arslan that she hadn’t left just yet.

“Coward,” Arslan muttered, as she stepped out of the circle of firelight and into the darkness. Most grimm were good sports enough to stand and fight, but this one…this one wanted to be sneaky.

This one wanted to hide in the dark.

For a brief moment, Arslan wished she was a faunus. Or just that she knew where the light switch for the market was.

I suppose I could ask Jaune if he or that girl Uiharu can pull up the specs, but I don’t need his help with this.

And I don’t really want to stand here talking in the dark with a grimm about.

Tap tap tap. Another whimpering sound. Arslan was absolutely certain that someone was in here.

“Don’t worry,” she called out. “Once I take care of this grimm, I’ll be right with you.”

She heard a fluttering sound; was it behind her? Arslan turned, her fist striking out to slam into one of the two statues, hitting it hard enough to shatter it into fragments of stone.

The harpy, in turn, struck Arslan from behind, kicking her across the market so that she flew through the air and landed on the floor, sliding across it until she shattered a wooden market stall laden with antiques which, in turn, fell on her and broke with much smashing of china and porcelain. Arslan came to rest before an antique hope chest, and another – louder – whimper accompanied her landing.

Found you, Arslan thought as she backflipped onto her feet facing the direction in which she had been struck.

The harpy emerged into the firelight. It was humanoid in shape, taller than a man – taller than most men, anyway – but with an idealised female figure, wide hips and a narrow waistline; its arms were lithe, but didn’t seem so at first because they were protected from above the elbow to the black clawed fingers by heavy vambraces of bone, with a pair of spikes jutting from each and red lines forming curved patterns across the white; its legs were thin and ended in a trio of talons upon each bird-like foot; a fire seemed to burn in its stomach, where a human’s belly-button would have been, and in the centre of its forehead just above and between its eyes; a pair of black wings unfurled from out behind it.

It let out a high-pitched, chittering laugh as it regarded Arslan pitifully.

“Oh yeah?” Arslan growled. “Then why don’t you come over here and finish me?”

The harpy charged, black wings spread out on either side. Arslan charged to meet it, teeth gritted and bared in a leonine snarl. The harpy hissed as it slashed at Arslan with one bone-protected arm; Arslan blocked the blow with her own forearm, feeling the impact pound her aura and travel down her arm besides; with her free hand, she punched the harpy in the gut, in the glowing ember that burned in its stomach, following up with a sideswipe kick as the harpy gasped in pain. The grimm leapt up, legs bending as Arslan's stroke passed harmlessly beneath; Arslan converted her kick into a spin on her toes, still spinning as she kicked herself up into the air for a second strike that caught the harpy in the thigh.

Years in the arena, and you think I never saw anybody jump a kick before? Insulting!

The harpy shrieked as Aslan's kick hurled it sideways and to the ground. It rolled to a stop, on all fours now, seeming a lot less human and a lot more bestial as it glowered at Arslan with its red eyes burning.

Arslan drew back her fists to strike.

The harpy threw itself upon her, its wings bearing it along in a flying leap to cross the distance separating the combatants. The harpy slashed at her with both its talons, but Arslan contorted her body backwards, letting the grimm pass overhead.

She fancied that there was surprise upon that bird-mask face as Arslan hit it, putting a good chunk of her aura into a strike that blew the harpy's head clean off.

The rest of it began to turn to dust as Arslan straightened up.

I’m not completely useless - yet, she thought. She wandered through the wrecked and broken antiques towards the trunk. From what she could see, it was old, with iron bands around the ancient wood. She knocked. "You can come out now; it's dead."

"Really? That's wonderful to hear," came a girl's voice from within. "I was opening up when I heard the...Paris tried to shut the gates, but...I hid from it in here. Are you one of Hector's companions?"

"Yes, my name's Arslan," Arslan said. "Are you Andromache?"

"Yes, that's right," Andromache replied. "Arslan...Arslan Altan? The Golden Lion?"

Arslan grinned. "Yeah, that's me. Listen, why don't you come out of that trunk; it's okay now."

There was a moment of pause. "Um...well, this is a bit embarrassing. You see...this is a very old chest-"

"You've locked yourself in, haven't you?"

"Not on purpose," Andromache said, somewhat defensively. "But...if you wouldn't mind helping me out?"

"Of course not," Arslan said, as she dug her fingernails into the crack between the lid and the main body of the chest, feeling the smooth varnish against her fingertips. She heaved upwards so hard that she ripped the lid clean off. "Ahem, sorry about that," Arslan said, as she let the lid drop to the floor with a clatter.

"It's quite alright," Andromache said, as she climbed out. "Is the fighting over?"

"Not yet, but I'll get you somewhere safe," Arslan replied. "Hector and his team are protecting everyone at the Old Palace. Oh, and congratulations, by the way."

Hector held Andromache in his arms, looking as though he might never let her go again; Andromache, for her part, rested her head upon his chest, her copper-coloured hair spilling out over his armour, looking as though, for her part, she might never want to be let go. It was really rather sweet. It was also rather personal, especially once he did release her and started talking about how the fear of losing her - losing both of them - had clarified for him what really mattered. Pyrrha took that as a sign that he was about to propose, or at least she couldn't help but feel it would be rather disappointing for Andromache if he was not, and so she turned away and left him to it, descending the steps from the Old Palace to where a modest crowd of Thebans waited for her, along with Swift Foot and Jade. The remaining members of Teams PRAN and JHAL were on the perimeter, checking the damage to the automated defences. From what they had seen so far, it appeared that most of the gun turrets had escaped intact, or with so little damage that they didn't need to be replaced: the grimm that had gotten over the walls had ignored them in favour of human prey, and the grimm that had been waiting outside the walls hadn't had the chance to do otherwise.

The magistrate of Thebes, a grey-haired woman with a stooped back and a lined face, who leaned upon a hickory stick, bowed her head yet further as Pyrrha approached. "It appears that some of us have been privileged to witness a miracle this day, Lady Pyrrha."

Pyrrha had a sinking feeling that she knew what the magistrate meant by that, but she affected ignorance as she said, "You're very welcome, but I'm not sure I'd call this a miracle. Just a day in the life of a huntress." She laughed uneasily.

The magistrate chuckled. "Such modesty, but it was not the deliverance of the town - grateful for it though we are, of course - but the miracle reported by some of our people on the wall, where you conjured fire out of nothing to destroy the grimm."

Pyrrha swallowed. She was willing to reveal the powers of the Fall Maiden if the choice was between doing so and risking loss of life, but at the same time, she was not particularly looking forward to explaining to strangers that she had magic. There were good reasons, after all, why the powers of the Maidens had been hidden by Professor Ozpin and his predecessors. She would let no one die to preserve the secret, but that didn't mean that she would not have rather the secret remained in place.

"Atlesian microtechnology!" Jaune shouted into Pyrrha's ear.

Pyrrha stiffened with surprise. Jaune, what are you-?

"Just go with it, Pyrrha," Jaune said through the earpiece that Pyrrha was wearing. "You've got Atlesian microtechnology hidden in your glove, and it lets you make very efficient use of dust."

"That...that was only fire dust," Pyrrha said, hoping that she wasn't too terrible a liar for this to seem at least somewhat plausible. "My glove has some, uh, microtechnology sent to me by a friend in Atlas that allows me to use dust very efficiently."

The magistrate stared at her; it took a moment or two before a knowing smile spread across her face. "I see. We owe you our lives, Lady Pyrrha, and as I told you, we are far from ungrateful for the fact. They are very clever folk, those Atlesians, aren't they?"

"They are," Pyrrha agreed, with palpable relief in her voice, "and I am privileged to know one of the cleverest."

The magistrate nodded. "What will you do next?"

"That depends on the state of the fighting elsewhere," Pyrrha said. "If I am required elsewhere, I will reinforce my comrades where they are in need."

"Ours is not the only town under attack?" the magistrate asked.

"I'm afraid not," Pyrrha said. "That is why our numbers are so few here. We are sorely stretched."

The magistrate shook her head in despair. "Every day, the world grows more full of peril," she lamented. "What has brought this on us?"

It was unclear if she meant today specifically or in general; Pyrrha chose to answer the former question. "I'm not sure, but I should like to find out. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," the magistrate said, bowing her head a second time. "Good fortune attend you, Pyrrha Nikos."

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured, before she turned away. A sigh escaped her. "That was quick thinking, Jaune."

"It was the best I could do at short notice. Do you think they bought it?"

"I think they may be willing to accept it as part of their gratitude," Pyrrha replied. "What's the situation with the other forces?"

"When Sun's group arrived at Arpi, they found there weren't that many grimm there," Jaune said. "So once they were done, I sent Team Jasmine to reinforce Violet's forces, and that helped them hold their position; Nadir also encountered less opposition than either you or Violet. Which is interesting, because you and Violet are in the centre, with Sun and Nadir on the wings of the line, as if the grimm spread out from a central location, with fewer of them venturing further out."

"Perhaps they did," Pyrrha replied. "If all the villages are secure, then I'm going to leave Team Jalapeno to defend the town while I take Team Prawn and sweep the woods to the north for any sign of more grimm."

"Good idea," Jaune said. "I'll have Team Volcano do the same."

"You should keep an eye on the town," Pyrrha said. "I don't think you'll be able to see us in the woods."

Jaune was silent for a moment on the other end of the line. "I guess not," he admitted, not sounding particularly pleased about it. "Come back safe."

"To you? Always," Pyrrha replied, a soft smile playing across her lips. She turned back, to see Swift Foot and Jade both watching her.

"I hope you don't expect us to buy an explanation of Atlesian microtechnology," Swift Foot said in a soft, mild tone that belied her words.

Jade shrugged. "I'm willing to believe it," she said.

Swift Foot looked at her, one eyebrow rising sceptically. "Really?"

"We've been talking," Jade declared, before popping another of those revolting sweets into her mouth. She chewed on it for a moment. "The four of us," she added, making plain who were the 'we' who had been talking. "You're a girl with a lot of secrets, Pyrrha Nikos, and that's fine. It doesn't change the work we do by your side. It doesn't change what we did today."

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured. She had never thought of herself as someone with secrets, but now that Jade had described her as such, she felt - although she was not entirely comfortable about it - that the description was well-merited; she had kept her semblance secret for years, and now, she was keeping so many secrets from all but her most trusted companions...such understanding as Team JHAL had decided to show her was the best she could hope for in the circumstances. "I'm about to head out and scout the woods with my team; will you please remain here and guard the town until we return?"

A smile blossomed upon Jade's red lips. "'Please'? Command me and I am yours, Lady Pyrrha." she said, bowing with mock courtesy.

Pyrrha sighed. This will never stop, will it? She turned her attention to Swift Foot. "Will you come with us?"

"I will, and gladly," Swift Foot said. She hesitated. "I would also gladly know the truth behind this miracle. I am afraid that I am not so willing to simply trust as some."

Pyrrha pursed her lips. "Jade speaks the truth; I am not without secrets," she admitted, "but they remain secret for a good reason."

"Do you take me for a child or a bondsman to be so easily dismissed by such words from the lips of 'Lady Pyrrha'? No; I am a daughter of the House of Thrax," Swift Foot declared. "A house I have turned my back on to tie my sacred honour to you and your cause; does that not entitle me to know the truth of what I have seen with my own eyes?"

"The truth of our cause is what you thought it was," Pyrrha replied. "It has not changed."

"No," Swift Foot agreed. "But it is not the whole of the truth." She paused, and with one hand she fingered the great horn she wore upon her hip. "This horn is an heirloom of my house; it is said that when it is wound in anger upon the field of battle then all the foes of Mistral shall know fear, and if it is blown at need within the realm of Mistral, its voice shall not go unheeded. By rights, it should sit upon the hip of my eldest sister, but I have taken it because I think it better it should sound in the defence of our kingdom than sit idle in the palace of a steward."

"I agree," Pyrrha murmured. "And I understand what you say." She hesitated. "Not here, come with me.”

She led Swift Foot away from the main square, down one of the narrowest alleys that led off from it. It was so narrow that there was barely room for the two of them to face each other, but they were not disturbed, and there was no one who could overhear them.

Pyrrha looked into Swift Foot’s purple eyes. “When you were a child,” she said softly. “Did your parents ever tell you fairy stories?”

Swift Foot’s brow furrowed with a frown. “My mother,” she said, a little gruffly. “When I was very young. My father…had no time for such things.” She blinked, and her voice softened a little. “My favourite was always The Girl in the Tower.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Mine, too. A lonely girl trapped so high above the world, waiting for a handsome prince to sweep her away.”

“Waiting for someone to set her free,” Swift Foot replied. “At least…that was how I always saw it.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly. “Do you remember the story of the seasons?”

“Not one of my favourites, but I think I remember,” Swift Foot murmured. “Four maidens granted…” she trailed off, her eyes widening.

Pyrrha nodded, although it was more of a bow of her head. “I…am the Fall Maiden.”

Swift Foot made a sound that was partway between a gasp and a choke. “That…that’s not possible.”

“Was what you saw me do today possible?” Pyrrha asked. “I can command the elements without the use of dust. I have…that magic inside of me.”

Swift Foot blinked rapidly. “How?”

“I…was chosen,” Pyrrha replied.

“How?” Swift Foot repeated. “Chosen by whom?”

“I would rather not say,” Pyrrha said. “I cannot tell you all of the truth…not yet, at least. I mean no slight upon you, Swift Foot, but please try to understand: the Maidens have been kept secret for many years and for good reason. Even what I tell you now…it may not seem like much to you, but it is a great deal to me.”

“'Maidens'?” Swift Foot asked. “There are more of them? Of course there are more; there are four of them? Just like the story?”

“Just like the story,” Pyrrha agreed.

“Who?” Swift Foot demanded. “Arslan? Nora?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I don’t know who the other Maidens are or where they are, save that they are a long way away from here. Nor do they know who I am, or where the Fall Maiden might be.”

Swift Foot looked down at the ground. “All the same,” she murmured. “This is…incredible.” She looked back up and into Pyrrha’s eyes. “I don’t understand why you keep this to yourself, why did you lie to those people? You have magic! You are already considered a hero by so many; if you reveal what you truly are, you would be thought a demigod. The throne of your ancestors would be yours for the taking!”

“I do not want it,” Pyrrha declared. “I do not seek the return of the monarchy; I do not do these things to aggrandise myself. I am not what your father fears I am. I seek only to serve this kingdom and protect its people.”

“Then why use your powers at all?”

“Because my secret is not worth a drop of innocent blood,” Pyrrha said, her voice quiet but resolute.

Swift Foot stared at her. “I…I see. Of course. A generous thought, and worthy of your royal lineage.”

“Worthy of any good conscience, I think,” Pyrrha murmured, as she clasped her hands together in front of her. “I’m afraid…that that is all I can tell you.”

“You do me honour to tell me this much,” Swift Foot said. “In time, I hope to earn sufficient of your trust that you will tell me more, but for now? You have already told me quite enough.”

Shadows of Intent

Shadows of Intent

With so many in the house who did not know all or even any of the truth of what was really going on in the unhappy world of Remnant, Pyrrha had gathered her most trusted comrades in the dojo, where - having made it clear that they wished to have some privacy - there was less chance of anyone coming by and accidentally overhearing them talk in that remote part of the estate. There, amongst the weapons and the training equipment, with the candles flickering upon the off-white walls, Jaune listened as Pyrrha unfolded to them all that she had learnt upon her visit to the house of Turnus.

He kind of wished that she had explained to him who this Turnus guy was before she had started to talk about what she'd found there; she seemed to take it for granted that everyone knew – and to be fair, Arslan and Neptune both seemed to be following it, although he wasn't so sure about Sun, Ren, and Nora – but Jaune felt as though there were a couple of pieces missing that were preventing him from understanding the full context of it all.

Mind you, even without the full context, what he could understand was quite bad enough. Lionheart wasn't Salem's only asset in Mistral, and that other asset was now protecting the first.

How bad it was, exactly…that was something that, again, he lacked the context to fully understand.

Arslan clenched her hands into fists. "So Turnus is sheltering Lionheart and working with Salem. Fantastic. As if we didn't have enough problems."

"Turnus is sheltering Lionheart," Pyrrha agreed, "but Juturna is the one who is serving Salem, however much she might protest otherwise. I don't believe that Turnus is involved."

"What makes you so sure?" Neptune asked.

"Because Juturna was quite open and honest with me, so why would Turnus pretend that he did not recognise the name of Salem?" Pyrrha replied. "I don't think he was feigning confusion."

"Okay, but how could his sister not tell her brother that she was working for the queen of evil?" Sun asked. "It seems like the kind of thing you'd want to bring up if you cared about your family."

"On the other hand," Ren murmured, "if she really does believe that she is the one in control, then it may be she doesn't feel it's important enough to trouble her brother with."

"Yeah, but that's absurd," Jaune protested. "It's…she can't really believe that."

"Why not?" inquired Ren, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

"Because it's ridiculous!" Jaune squawked.

"It seems that way to you because of your experiences," Ren reminded him. "If Juturna lacks your dealings with Salem or your observations of those who serve her, she may be naïve enough to have mistaken their relationship. Especially if Salem herself has encouraged that misapprehension."

"We know that she is quite willing to lie in order to get what she wants," Pyrrha murmured. "She was willing to promise much to us in exchange for our service; she promised Ruby that she could bring her mother back to life. She could have promised something to Juturna with just so fair a face. I should have pressed her on just what she had been promised."

"If you'd pressed her too hard, she might not have been so charitable as to let you leave," Jaune replied, putting a hand upon Pyrrha's shoulder. The thought of Pyrrha alone surrounded by servants of Salem, it…it chilled him, even now that the danger had passed and she had emerged from that house safe and sound; he could feel the goosebumps of apprehension for her prickling underneath his hoodie. Pyrrha was the Fall Maiden and the greatest warrior of the day, but she was still just one warrior, and in that moment, she had been one in a tiger's den. "You did the right thing getting out when you did."

Pyrrha looked at him, uncertainty clear in her green eyes. "Perhaps," she said, in a voice that was every bit as unsure of herself. "And what is done is done in that regard. The question is, what is the right thing to do now?"

Jaune did not miss the way that everyone's eyes turned to him. There were times when he almost missed being the member of the team about whom nobody had any expectations. Almost.

He folded his arms. "The way I see it, we have three questions: What does Salem want? What has she promised Juturna in exchange for her help? And what is Turnus doing with the help of Lionheart? The first…is the easiest and the hardest. Salem might want all kinds of things, but I think it's a fair bet that what she really wants is the Relic of Knowledge hidden under Haven Academy. As I see it, that's the only reason for her to care about Lionheart at this point: he knows how to get into the Vault of the Spring Maiden, and we know from Amber that that kind of knowledge is valuable to her. I think it's a fair bet that at some point, they will attempt to get back into Haven, get to the vault, and remove the relic."

Haven Academy was presently closed for a winter break that had been extended by Council edict in recognition of the fact that the headmaster was hiding and a great many of the students were camped out in Pyrrha's house, while the teachers were being kept in hand by the Steward for fear of Pyrrha. According to Councillor Ward, a decision on when to reopen the school was about the only thing that the Council could agree on: the votes to extend the winter break were always unanimous. A return to school was in nobody's interest right now.

"But they can't actually get to the relic without the Spring Maiden, and they don't have her," Jaune continued, thinking aloud.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Ren.

"Because if they could get the relic already, they'd have no reason not to do it, right?" Arslan said, looking to Jaune for confirmation.

"Right," Jaune agreed. "Unfortunately, we have no idea whether Salem knows where the Spring Maiden is or not."

"Do you know where she is?" Neptune asked.

"Conceptually, not geographically," Jaune explained.

"What does that mean?" Arslan demanded.

"It means the Spring Maiden is with the Branwen Tribe, a clan of bandits led by Raven Branwen," Pyrrha said.

"The stepmother of your Beacon teammate," Lady Nikos, who had been rather quiet up until now, spoke up from her chair in the corner of the room.

"I'm not sure that 'stepmother' is quite the accurate word, but essentially, you are correct, Mother," Pyrrha replied. "It was she who revealed to her daughter, and Ruby, and Ruby’s father, that she had the Spring Maiden in her power. Ruby told Sunset, Sunset told Professor Ozpin, but whether he told Lionheart…we simply don't know. Nor do we know where, exactly, the Branwen tribe can be found."

"Until they have the Spring Maiden, I don't think they'll move," Jaune said. "Unfortunately, once they get her, they're likely to move very fast."

"Do you think that's what Salem needs Juturna for?" Neptune suggested. "Rutulian Security has the ability to search for the tribe, and maybe even to assault them too, to recover the Spring Maiden."

"That would mean she'd have to trust this Juturna chick with a lot of knowledge about the Maidens and the relics though, right?" Nora pointed out. "Right now, it seems more like Salem's playing her."

Jaune nodded. "You've got a point there, Nora, but I'm sure there are ways that she could keep Juturna in the dark about a lot of these details while still making use of her. She might not need to know why Salem needs to find the Branwens to be told to help with that. Assuming that Salem knows about the Branwen tribe." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "If they get the Spring Maiden, things will become very difficult," he said.

The Myrmidons couldn't occupy Haven to deny the Vault to the enemy without crossing a line that public opinion might find hard to tolerate, which meant that they would be reliant upon intercepting Salem's forces on the way to Haven, and while that might be possible, if such a battle occurred, it would mean that Salem had acquired the Spring Maiden. It meant Pyrrha would be pitted, perhaps alone, against another Maiden as strong as she, gifted with the same powers of magic, maybe more skilled with them and more experienced, if they managed to persuade – or even "persuade" – the current holder of the Spring mantle to aid them. Pyrrha, swift and skilled and brave as she was, might nevertheless win such a battle, but Jaune considered it part of his role as the strategist to at least try and make every encounter as one-sided and uneven as possible, even if the grimm and the bandits didn't often accommodate his wishes. In this instance, he wasn't willing to just accept "Maiden vs Maiden single combat" as the ideal outcome.

"Our best chance is to find Spring ourselves and either persuade her to come back to Mistral with us or…" - he hesitated, not because of any personal unwillingness so much as an awareness that some of those present might be themselves hesitant - "...or kill her and make sure that the powers pass to someone we can trust." Either Arslan or Nora would serve very well in that regard, and if they had to bring another member of their group into the circle, then there were plenty of other able candidates in the house: Violet, Ditzy, even someone like Medea or Atalanta in a pinch.

"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured, a mixture of shock and reproach mingling in her voice. "You're suggesting…"

What you were willing to do to Cinder once, Jaune thought; but he said, "What we might have to do, for Mistral, for the good of the world." He looked around, to see how the others were taking it.

"We are talking about a bandit," Ren reminded them, his voice largely empty of emotion. "People who do as ill and worse to others with far less provocation."

"Does that mean that we should descend to their level?" Pyrrha asked him.

"So long as we don't leave a trail of burning villages in our wake, I don't see that we are," Ren replied.

"If the Branwen Tribe were to assault a village under our protection, you wouldn't hesitate," Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha glanced at him, then looked away. "I know," she said, her voice soft and a little distressed. "I just…of course it is irrelevant until we can find them. How?"

"I…I haven't thought that far yet," Jaune admitted. "But I will, because if we can take care of that, then it's a big load we won't have to worry about any more." He let that sink in for a moment. "It's less concerning, maybe more immediately so, but we also have to worry about what Turnus and Juturna want." He hesitated. "It might help if I actually knew who he was."

Pyrrha looked down at the ring on her finger, turning it round and round with her other hand. "He is the most dangerous fighter in Mistral, after myself."

"Hang on," Arslan said quickly, raising one hand in a 'slow down' gesture. "Let's not go crazy with this; he's massively overrated."

"He's killed sixteen people," Pyrrha pointed out.

"In duels," Arslan argued. "I could do that if I was the kind of touchy person who went round challenging people to duels to the death, and so could you, for that matter."

"Wait, duels?" Jaune repeated. "Duelling to the death, that's still legal here? That's…" he stopped short of saying "that's barbaric." If only just. "That's insane!"

"It is a custom in these times more honoured in the breach than the observance," Lady Nikos declared. "Duelling is a dying art, and duelling to the death even more so but…yes, it remains legal, if only because the Council has always had more pressing matters to deal with than the repeal of musty old laws."

"The point is that he's never faced a real opponent," Arslan insisted. "He got kicked out of Atlas before he could participate in a Vytal Festival, he never entered the Mistral tournament, he's never put himself out there to be judged against his peers."

"He killed his team," Pyrrha said quietly, and her words, quiet though they were, reverberated around the room.

Sun's eyes widened. "He…what? He killed his team?"

Pyrrha elaborated, "Well…perhaps. Arslan is right, Turnus enrolled in Atlas Academy – he's rather fond of the north kingdom – and in the beginning of his second year, his team was assigned a training mission. He was the only one who returned; he said the grimm had killed the others and there was nothing he could have done, but he did bring back his partner's weapon, which he has kept ever since. They say that he had quarrelled with his teammates before the mission, and General Ironwood was sufficiently convinced that something unsavoury had gone on to expel him from the academy."

Jaune found that his jaw had dropped while listening to this. He killed his teammates? Or left them to die, at the least? He tried to imagine Rainbow Dash doing that, flipping off Ciel and Twilight as they got devoured by beowolves, while Penny lay dismembered on the ground at Rainbow’s feet. His mind revolted against the absurdity of it. You didn't need to fall in love with your partner the way he had to know that…your team was supposed to be…it was just wrong. It was…wrong; contrary to the foundation stones of the four academies. No wonder General Ironwood had expelled him.

"He is dangerous," Pyrrha insisted. "If we have to oppose him…I would rather overestimate him than underestimate him."

"'If,'" Jaune repeated. "What does he want?"

Pyrrha glanced at her mother, who said nothing. "I…I'm not sure," she said, a little tremulously. "He seems to think the current chaos is making the Council look weak – he may be right about that – but what he wants…he may want to seize power in the city."

"Would that be a problem if he did?" Sun asked. "I mean, obviously, it wouldn't be great, but we're here to fight Salem and the grimm, not fix everything wrong with the world."

"We are here to protect Mistral," Pyrrha declared. A sigh escaped her. "But I take your point. Or I would if Salem were not so close by, her agents living in his house. He may not serve her, but who knows what they could suggest to him?"

"But we need to know his planned intent before we can stop it," Jaune murmured. "We can't do anything to stop him until we know what we have to stop. And the same goes for our other problem," he added, nodding to Arslan. "It's not ideal that one of the Councillors is raising her own force to fight us, but all that we can do is…not provoke her, or anyone else. Showing that our enemies are outside the walls…what else can we do?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Pyrrha admitted. “Although...on that subject, I feel as though we need to talk about Autumn Blaze, before we talk to her about what she’s been saying. It’s probably my fault for not checking what she was going to say before she posted it, but that doesn’t change the fact that...I’m not sure that her coverage has been an unalloyed good for us. In fact...I think it might have done us some harm.”

Arslan folded her arms. “You think she’s the reason people don’t trust us?”

“I think that people might not be so ready to believe that I want to retake the throne of my ancestors if Autumn didn’t keep reminding people that it is the throne of my ancestors,” Pyrrha replied, though there was no anger or malice in her voice, just a degree of slightly melancholy disappointment.

“She’s not wrong,” Arslan pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean it needs to be repeated constantly,” Pyrrha said. “Not when it’s harming our cause.”

“Is it harming our cause?” Arslan asked.

“Yes!” Neptune said, loudly and firmly. “My mother thinks that Pyrrha needs to be assassinated before she can become a tyrant; your friend has been hired to raise fighters by Lady Ming because she is also worried that Pyrrha is going to become a tyrant.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, it feels like the story Autumn Blaze is telling has less to do with the people of Mistral coming together to defend their kingdom and more like the heiress to the throne reclaiming her birthright, and it’s doing more harm than good.”

“You’re being very naive if you really believe that,” Arslan declared. “I’ve known Autumn for a few years, ever since I did that TV show-”

“You had a TV show?” Jaune asked.

“Yeah, there was a time when I considered getting into acting,” Arslan said. “I played a girl with a magic compass and Autumn was a hot-air balloon riding cowgirl.”

“That sounds...weird,” Jaune admitted.

“And there were armoured polar bears too; it was kind of all over the place,” Arslan admitted. “Probably why it wasn’t picked up for a second season. Anyway, Autumn was really nice to me, gave me a lot of good advice about the industry and stuff, and she’s one hell of a writer; nobody can dispute that.”

“The quality of her writing isn’t the issue,” Neptune said. “It’s what she’s writing.”

“She has not intentionally set out to hurt our cause, I guarantee it,” Arslan said. “She doesn’t have a false or malicious bone in her body.”

“That doesn’t mean that she can’t make mistakes,” Neptune insisted. “Maybe we would have been better off with some regular PR people.”

“We do not - and did not - want PR people,” Arslan replied. “PR people are the worst, aren’t they, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha sighed. “I never got on with any of those that my mother consulted, did I, Mother?”

“Indeed not,” Lady Nikos said. “You chafed at every restriction they sought to place upon you.”

“That,” Arslan said emphatically. “That is the thing that you need to understand: PR people don’t tell you how to get people to like what you are or what you do; they tell you what to do in order to be liked. If you asked a PR guy what we had to do in order to get the rich to approve of us saving the villages and not be suspicious of our motives, you know what they’d say? They’d say 'don’t save the villages.'”

“You’re exaggerating,” Neptune said.

“Pyrrha knows what they’re like, don’t you, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha nodded glumly. “Unfortunately, I think Arslan might be right; in our experience, publicists are less interested in changing minds than in...well, changing their clients to make them more acceptable to minds that have already been made up.”

“We needed a storyteller because we needed a narrative,” Arslan insisted. “We needed a narrative that would sway the people, and we got one.”

“I agree,” Jaune said. “Maybe it worked a little too well, but I agree.”

“Really?” Ren asked sceptically.

“Yes,” Jaune said. “Pyrrha, do you remember the party that you took me to during spring break? You told me that if any flower should grow too high then that was something...something to be hated.”

“Because all the rest would be plunged into shadow,” Pyrrha whispered.

“Yes, that was exactly what you told me,” said Jaune. “And if it was true of you then...how much more true is it now, after the Battle of Vale and everything else and now this? We could hire an airship to fly a banner saying ‘I have no ambitions’ over the city all day, and even if they believed it, these people would still hate you because you’ve done more than they have or even could. We needed to spread our message, and we needed to get the people on our side, and thanks to Autumn, we’ve done that.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it makes sense,” Sun said. “I mean it doesn’t make sense, but I see where you’re coming from.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that they still hate us,” Neptune said, “and it feels like we ought to be trying to do something about that.”

“Add it to the list,” Jaune muttered tiredly.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed, slightly disconsolately. “Arslan, will you find Autumn and ask her to come to the study? I think we need to have a word with her.”

Arslan hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “Sure. I’ll get her.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said softly. She glanced at Ren, but did not speak.

He caught her look regardless. “Was there something else?”

Pyrrha frowned. Jaune said, “We need you to watch the Rutulus house, to see...to see if there’s anything going on there.”

Ren was still, and for a few seconds, he said nothing. “Very well.”

“All by yourself?” Nora asked.

“It’s necessary,” Ren told her.

Nora pouted, but did not otherwise protest.

Pyrrha looked around the room. "Thank you, all, for your efforts today. I know that it was not our easiest set of encounters, and you have my gratitude. Now, if you will excuse us."

"Of course," Neptune said, as they took their leave.

Lady Nikos lingered after all the rest had gone. Jaune found that Pyrrha’s mother looked rather less certain of herself than she seemed usually; she seemed almost abashed, or maybe even ashamed of something. It wasn’t something Jaune had ever expected to see out of his future mother-in-law; he did not say "soon to be," as he and Pyrrha had yet to discuss the date for the wedding; he had the impression Pyrrha was hoping that there would come a point at which they could hold the wedding without fear of the ceremony being interrupted by a grimm attack. He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it.

“How…how did you find Turnus?” Lady Nikos asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. She turned the ring over and over on her finger. “He…was not pleased.”

“I still feel as though there’s a ton of subtext that I’m missing the context for.” Jaune said. “But even moreso now.”

Lady Nikos took a deep breath. “Do you remember, Mister Arc, when I told you that better men in Mistral were waiting for Pyrrha’s hand?”

Yes, he did remember that time in the café in Vale and how uncomfortable it had been, but…Jaune felt his jaw drop for the second time that night. “This is the guy you were talking about?”

“The very same,” Lady Nikos replied, and she seemed unable to meet his eyes as she said it.

Jaune could see why, to be perfectly honest. He…he didn’t know what to say. He was…he was speechless. “My lady,” he managed to say at last, “with all due respect, I know that I’ve got my flaws, God knows, and I know that a lot of people might say that I don’t deserve Pyrrha; I’ve been one of them. But I’ve got to say at least I never left anyone to die when they were depending on me, never mind stabbed them in the back!” Really? That guy? That was the guy I nearly lost out to? The guy who left his teammates to die at best and killed them all at worst; you thought he was better than me?

“I was seduced by the many advantages that he possessed,” Lady Nikos confessed. “He is wealthy, well-born, strong, and capable.”

All the things that I’m not. “And a murderer, maybe,” Jaune pointed out. “And at best a…” he stopped, because he wasn’t sure what the word was for someone who abandoned his comrades to die? A deserter, maybe? Worse than scum?

“Turnus would say that these are slanders of his enemies,” Lady Nikos replied. “It suited me to believe that.”

“But you didn’t?” Jaune asked, looking to Pyrrha.

“He took his partner’s weapon,” Pyrrha said. “If they had fallen despite his best efforts, then why would he bring the weapon home and keep it as if it were a prize? I could not answer that question.”

“I hope the fact that Pyrrha’s own affections never tended in that direction gives you comfort, Mister Arc,” Lady Nikos said. “And as for myself, surely even I may be allowed one error of judgement. Deeds done in Atlas seemed so far away, but his actions in Mistral…you have turned out to be a better man than I thought and he a worse one.”

I’m glad to hear you think so now. “Thank you, my lady.”

“I hear that young Lady Swift Foot Thrax now knows that you are the Fall Maiden,” Lady Nikos said to Pyrrha, changing the subject.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha confirmed. “Do you…think that I have done ill?”

“Only you can answer that,” Lady Nikos said. “Myself, I chafe at the need for secrecy. I understand it, but…you have become so much…more. I wish it could be known throughout the kingdom, as it deserves to be. But that is just my vanity talking, I am sure.” She paused, breathing in deeply. “While you were discovering the treachery - or folly, at the least - of the Rutulians, I was entertaining Councillors Ward and Timur, to see what could be done to increase support for you and your chosen course in Council.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. “Did your discussion yield any fruit?”

“You could have Lady Ming’s support if you were willing - even theoretically - to turn your strength against Atlas,” Lady Nikos said, with a little amusement creeping back into her voice.

“You said that I would never do such a thing, I hope,” Pyrrha said, a touch of sharpness entering into hers.

Lady Nikos chuckled. “Never fear, Pyrrha, I know you that well, at least. And though I do not know your Atlesian friends, the fact that they are your friends, and they have fought beside you against Salem’s strength, is enough for me; I would not ask you to turn against them, not when they have done no harm to Mistral. We would be shamed indeed to take such a course. The other way you may not like, but at least it may be called honourable.”

“You mean submission,” Jaune said. “That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it, my lady? We would...put ourselves at the disposal of the Council.”

“Of the Steward, at least,” Lady Nikos clarified. “It would yield the three votes necessary in Council.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha mused. “Is there any guarantee of that?” She bowed her head for a moment. “What if we accept the Council’s authority, and the Council still decides to do nothing, or rather the Council remains unable to decide to do anything? Must we then watch Mistral burn, its villages devoured by grimm?”

“If it comes to such a pretty pass, then Mistral is truly lost, its spirit slain and fled to the next world beyond recall,” Lady Nikos declared. “I hope and pray that Lord Thrax is not so lost to honour. He fears you, yes, but once you are under his authority - and a share in the prestige you garner from your actions begins accruing to him, as you fight under his auspices - then I cannot...I would not wish to believe that he would turn his back on Mistral when it cries out for aid.”

“I also hope it would not be so,” Pyrrha said softly. She looked to Jaune. “What do you think?”

Jaune exhaled through gritted teeth. “I...I’m not sure. On the one hand, it would clear up a lot of our Council troubles and get the threat of the law and Lady Ming’s private army off our backs. But on the other hand, if we have to report to someone else, it will be harder for us to do what we need to do to stop Salem: to go after the Spring Maiden, to protect Haven...some things will get easier, some things will get more difficult. But it will solve our immediate problems; we’ll just have to figure out the answers to the future ones later. Provided we can get a good enough deal.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said. “I do not know what Councillor Ward will return with. Until he does, indeed, return, this is all speculation.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “We shall see what he brings back from the Steward, and...and then we will consider it. Goodnight, Mother.”

"Goodnight, Pyrrha, Mister Arc.”

“My lady,” Jaune murmured as Lady Nikos, too, left them. The door closed behind her, and he was left alone in the room with Pyrrha.

Pyrrha turned away from him, head bowed, one hand clasping her other elbow. "Did you mean that, Jaune?" she asked, her voice so soft and so fragile sounding. “Did you mean what you said about the Spring Maiden?”

"Yes," he answered, and where her voice had become gentle, almost glassy, he found that his throat had gone hoarse and croak-like.

Pyrrha was silent for a long moment. "After we returned from Merlot's Island, Sunset and I went to Professor Ozpin to debrief him about what had happened there. About how we had fought side by side with Cinder. Sunset pleaded that she might yet…renounce her allegiance to Salem. Neither Professor Ozpin nor myself believed her; I could hardly believe that Sunset could be so naïve, so blind where Cinder Fall was concerned; it frightened me, but she showed us in the end. They both did." Pyrrha sighed. "In any case, Sunset took her leave first; I stayed behind to talk to Professor Ozpin. To confess to him what I had considered doing."

"Killing Cinder," Jaune muttered. "To become the Fall Maiden."

"Yes," Pyrrha said, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Murdering her for the power she carried inside of her."

"You had good reason to consider that step, as difficult a step as it was to consider," Jaune insisted. "You had the best of reasons to think about it."

"That doesn't change the fact that what I considered was wrong," Pyrrha replied. She turned to face him, and he saw that her eyes had begun to water. "I asked the professor if it would have been the right thing to do, and he told me that…the beginning informs the race; do you understand what that means?"

Jaune nodded. "I think so."

Pyrrha glanced down at her hand, and for a brief moment, a fire sparked in her palm, the flames as red as Pyrrha's hair dancing in the cradle of her fingers, before she closed her fist to snuff it out. "I still don't know if I am truly worthy of this honour," she said, "but if I have any hope at all of proving myself fit to stand amongst the Maidens who came before, it is because I received these powers as a gift, generously bestowed on me by a dear friend, who trusted me with all her hopes and dreams. If I had become the Fall Maiden earlier, by killing Cinder…Professor Ozpin told me that it would have followed me and turned all my endeavours to blood and ashes."

"And yet he sent you to kill Amber," Jaune said, unable to prevent a note of bitterness from entering his voice. He understood that Pyrrha had been fond of Professor Ozpin, had looked up to him; he understood that, and he could even see why: Professor Ozpin had always been kind to them and seemed to have done his best to guide them down the right path. Sunset and Pyrrha had been so much closer to the old man than either Jaune himself or Ruby had, so he got why they looked back on him fondly and reached for the memory of his counsel. But Jaune had to be honest with himself too, and honestly…Professor Ozpin had screwed up. A lot. He got blindsided, he trusted the wrong people, he made mistakes, and some of those mistakes almost wound up getting Pyrrha killed. If she had gone down into the Vault of the Fall Maiden without Cinder, then she would be dead right now; even Pyrrha herself admitted that, although she didn't seem to blame Ozpin for sending her down there. Professor Ozpin was a wise man, and he had tried his best, but Jaune doubted that even the old man himself would have claimed infallibility; just because he had said something didn't make it so, and his precepts should not – could not – become a substitute for doing what was best for them in the present moment.

"To protect the Relic of Choice," Pyrrha said.

"And we'll be protecting the Relic of Knowledge," Jaune insisted. "By-"

"By killing a girl whose only crime was to be afraid?" Pyrrha asked. "To run away from something terrifying, like Amber? Are we to become as bad as Cinder now, to encompass the death of someone who has done us no harm for power and our own benefit?"

"I'd like to give her a chance to come back to Mistral with us," Jaune said, although Amber had shown that there could be problems with that, too. It wasn't something that Pyrrha wanted to hear – it wasn't something Jaune particularly wanted to think – but the path that ended with a new and reliable Spring Maiden was a much safer one for their group and, indeed, for Mistral. "And let's not forget that we're not talking about an innocent girl, here; you can't believe that she's been living with a bandit tribe for years without getting her hands dirty."

"That doesn't give us the right to put her to death or to condemn Arslan or Nora to be a Maiden stained with blood, dogged by that first crime for all the rest of their lives," Pyrrha insisted.

"I'm not saying that we have the right; I'm saying that we might have to, even though it's wrong," Jaune replied. He took a tentative step towards her, and when she did not say anything or step away, he closed the distance between the two of them, enfolding her in his arms and pressing her close to him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish that…I wish that you didn't have to do this, but-"

"But I am the one with the best chance of defeating the Spring Maiden, whoever she may be," Pyrrha said. "Or helping our candidate to do so." She paused. "Arslan or Nora. I'm not sure which of them Professor Ozpin would have chosen. If he would have chosen either."

"He's not here," Jaune reminded her. "You are. So which do you choose?"

Once more, Pyrrha hesitated. "Arslan," she said, after a moment or two had passed. "She loves this city and is well-beloved within it. Few deserve to champion this kingdom more than she…and in these times, she is the better warrior."

Jaune nodded and reached out to run one hand through Pyrrha's long ponytail. He felt the silky softness of her hair between his fingers. "I wish you hadn't told that Swift Foot girl the truth," he admitted. "She only just got here, and she already knows one of our biggest secrets."

"I couldn't risk the town so as to keep my powers a secret," Pyrrha said.

"Of course not; that's not what I meant."

"And she already knew that it wasn't Atlesian microtechnology," Pyrrha added, a welcome touch of amusement entering her voice. "I had to tell her something."

"No, you didn't," Jaune replied.

"If I hadn't told her the truth, she would have taken it as a slight and left."

"Then let her go," Jaune declared. "She's not invaluable."

"She fought well today," Pyrrha argued, "and we need all the help we can get."

"If she really wanted to help, she would have accepted there were things that she didn't know and stayed anyway, like Jalapeno," Jaune countered. "I sometimes think that in this city, too many people are too concerned with their honour."

"I cannot deny that," Pyrrha conceded, "but it is the way of this kingdom, and it cannot be helped nor changed by us. As I told you once, in this city, reputation – standing amongst our peers – is everything. That's why they fear me: it's my prestige that worries them, not the armed followers at my back. If I spurned the Steward's daughter, I would confirm that I feel as they fear, that I see myself as the colossus their imagination makes of me. Instead, I hope that she might…mollify her father, in the end."

Jaune bent his neck, and kissed her on the forehead. "If that's so, then maybe…"

"Maybe?"

"Maybe she can help us," Jaune said. "With our Lionheart problem, at least."

Swift Foot's mission had gotten a lot more…intriguing.

She had been sent to the house of Pyrrha Nikos to discover her plans and sabotage the integrity of her company, but while she was no closer to discovering the mundane and earthly ambitions of "Lady Pyrrha," she had already found out something far more fascinating and incredible.

Magic. Pyrrha Nikos had magic. Pyrrha Nikos was the Fall Maiden. Swift Foot wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, and having seen, she might not have believed the specific explanation in any case save that Pyrrha had asked her to keep it secret. Swift Foot could have understood a public lie, such as she had given to the townsfolk of Thebes, but when the public lie was pathetic – Atlesian microtechnology indeed – and the private story was perfectly calibrated for public consumption, it raised questions. If Swift Foot had seen Pyrrha go before the people of Thebes – or the people of Mistral – and tell them that the fairy tale of the seasons was true and that the awe-inspiring powers of the Fall Maiden had been passed on to her, then Swift Foot would have seen it at once for what it was: an attempt to aggrandise herself at the expense of the rest of the kingdom. But Pyrrha had told the public lie in private, and to the public given an explanation she had been very fortunate to get away with, and furthermore, she had asked Swift Foot to keep her powers a secret. What sense did that make, unless the story was true?

And if it was true, and if Pyrrha Nikos was the Fall Maiden – or even if it wasn't true, the very fact of the powers that Swift Foot had seen with her own eyes was enough – then that was fascinating. Why keep it secret? The revelation that Pyrrha had magical powers, wherever they came from, would have combined with her existing prestige to make her first citizen in the kingdom beyond doubt, even if she harboured no ambitions for the throne. All others would have been eclipsed by her, even more than they were already. And yet, she hid her light, or asked others to pretend they had not seen it even when she revealed it. And even though she had shown her power in battle, that might have been for the first time, judging by the ignorance of others in the house as revealed by Swift Foot's subtle questioning.

It made no sense, what Pyrrha was doing; to keep secret that which would have made her great, or greater than she was already. It made no sense...unless she was sincere in what she had said regarding her ambitions or the lack thereof. Unless she spoke true when she told Swift Foot that she was not what her father’s fears had made her seem. If it were so - and Swift Foot was not yet wholly convinced that it was - then that might make Pyrrha Nikos one of the most honest people in Mistral. Which possibly was the most interesting thing in this house, as far as Swift Foot was concerned. Everything else – everyone else – here was rather banal by comparison, the kind of people she could figure out quite easily. But this? This was something new, something interesting. There were secrets here - Pyrrha had admitted as much - to which Swift Foot was not yet privy, and she was dying to ferret them out.

If nothing else, her father might reward her for them.

Now, as she walked into the Nikos dojo to find Pyrrha and Jaune Arc – almost as surprising, but far less interesting, as Pyrrha's magic was her unorthodox choice of betrothed; apparently, she had plebeian tastes in men – waiting for her, hand in hand, Swift Foot was as concerned by the chance to get more answers to her questions as she was by what they might want of her.

"You asked to see me?" she asked, facing them without excessive humility. She was a daughter of the steward, after all.

"Yes," Pyrrha replied, her voice gentle. "You fought very well today."

"I was not so impressive as you," Swift Foot replied. "And besides, I regret that we were unable to learn anything about what caused such a large number of grimm attacks in a single day." They had searched the woods north of Thebes but had found nothing to explain what had suddenly riled up so many of the creatures of grimm; neither had any of the other teams which had swept their sectors. The attacks had been like a lightning bolt from a clear sky.

Pyrrha and Jaune looked at one another, confirming to Swift Foot that they knew more than they were telling her. "We…have a couple of theories," Jaune allowed, "but the most important thing is that we won the day and saved the settlements."

Swift Foot smiled. "I'm sure you didn't ask me to come and see you to remind me of what I already saw with my own eyes today."

"No," Pyrrha agreed, "we didn't. I asked you here…how is your relationship with your father?"

Swift Foot put on a downcast look. It wasn't hard at all. "I…I haven't spoken to my father since I came to join you here, but I cannot imagine he is very pleased with my choices."

"Might he listen to you, nonetheless?" Pyrrha asked.

Swift Foot cocked her head ever so slightly one side. "Is there something that you want me to tell him?"

"How much do you know about what goes on in the Council?" asked Jaune.

Swift Foot allowed herself a slight smile. "I know that my father believes that Councillor Ward is your creature."

"Councillor Ward is our friend and ally," Pyrrha corrected her. "We see eye to eye on many issues presently facing Mistral, but I do not control him, any more than I control you or any of these our comrades who fight for Mistral alongside us."

"Of course," Swift Foot said delicately. "I merely meant to report what my father believes."

Pyrrha nodded. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…I'm sorry."

"And Lionheart?" Jaune demanded. "What does your father think about him?"

Swift Foot considered how she ought best to respond to that, and decided that honesty in this instance would do no harm. "My father is frustrated by Professor Lionheart, because his interests are not clear. He understands why Ward, Timur, and Lady Ming all vote the way they do, for all that it makes all alliances in the Council unstable, but he does not understand Professor Lionheart."

"Lionheart has many masters," Pyrrha said, "but the good of Mistral is not amongst them."

"What do you mean?"

"Lionheart is in the house of Turnus Rutulus and votes according to the bidding of his protector," Pyrrha informed her. "He votes to protect my group and to frustrate any Council response to the attacks upon our settlements so that the Council may appear impotent and ineffectual in the eyes of the people."

"You know this for certain?"

"I do," Pyrrha replied. "I saw him there today, when I visited the house of the Rutulians; Turnus as good as confessed his motives to me."

"'Today'?" Swift Foot repeated. Her eyes narrowed. "Your tame councillor moved to have Lionheart removed from his office some time ago, before you learned of this."

"We have other reasons to know that Lionheart is unfit to be headmaster of Haven and can't be trusted," Jaune admitted, "He was working with Cinder Fall, the terrorist who allied with the White Fang to carry out the attacks on Vale last year, and who murdered Phoebe Kommenos during the Vytal Festival.”

Swift Foot considered that for a moment. It made sense - this Cinder Fall had infiltrated Beacon disguised as a Haven student, and the headmaster of Haven would have been in a position to facilitate that. It made sense, and it would explain the antagonism of these Beacon students.

Of course, the fact that it made sense did not make it true. “You have proof of this?”

“Lionheart himself confessed it to me this very day,” Pyrrha said.

“But I suppose he would deny it in a more public setting,” Swift Foot extrapolated.

“Sure,” Jaune accepted. “But isn't what we have told you enough to convince your father to vote to dismiss Lionheart?"

"He might not be averse to it," Swift Foot conceded. "But who would replace him?"

"I…don't know," Pyrrha said. "I think that any alternative choice the Council might make would be an improvement."

"Then…I will speak to my father," said Swift Foot. "However, I make no guarantees."

"That you try is all I can ask," responded Pyrrha, bowing her head briefly. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Swift Foot said, "for giving me this opportunity. I will speak to my father at once." She turned to go, leaving them both in the dojo as she shut the door behind her and made her way out onto the spacious grounds that surrounded the house. The night air was a little chill, but the moonlight was bright enough that she could see exactly where she was going as she made her way to a secluded spot beneath a cherry tree, not far from the compound wall. Swift Foot sat down, feeling the rough bark of the tree dig slightly into her back, as she closed her eyes and activated her semblance.

Astral Projection was the subject of much mockery by Blonn Di and Shining Light, and it was true that it was not the most powerful semblance in Remnant, but it was particularly well-suited for this mission, as unlike a call on a scroll, the echo of herself that she projected into the house of her father could neither be overheard nor intercepted by any technical expert who might be trying to listen in. And so, leaving her body in seeming slumber beneath the cherry tree, Swift Foot passed in echo over the city of Mistral, her ghost slipping invisibly through the streets so swiftly that she could barely make out the details of the city through which she flew until she had arrived at the palace that sat just beneath the summit of the mountain, floating invisible through the corridors and past the columns until she reached the grim and grey forbidding chamber where her father held court.

It was not the throne room of the Emperors; her father might take up the steward's seat before the vacant throne upon occasion for some public duty before the eyes of men, but his private audiences were held in a different room: large and cavernous, almost completely devoid of colour, grey save for a purple carpet that ran from the door to her father's throne. Two immense statues of a pair of equine grimm, their bony heads looking almost like helmets, their mouths open, framed in screams that bared their monstrous fangs, stood on either side of the doors, rearing up towards the ceiling, hooves kicking. They had always scared Swift Foot when she was a child; even now, she could not say she liked them. She did her best to ignore their presence as her astral echo came to a stop in the middle of the room and focussed her attention upon her father and sister.

Lord Diomedes had been a great huntsman in his youth, and even now, his body was strong, broad-shouldered, and he wore a brazen brow-guard upon his head and a banded cuirass beneath his crimson toga. A hedge of spears surrounded his chair, sprouting like trees out of the grey stone floor. His hair and beard had both turned white with the years, and his hair was braided yet remained so long it dangled over the arm of his chair. His eyes were blue-grey, sharp and keen, set within a face turned hard by the passage of time.

Swift Foot's eldest sister Terri Belle – and Swift Foot was very glad that neither Blonn Di nor Shining Light were present for this – stood at their father's right hand. She was tall and seemed even taller by the way her metallic grey hair was spiked upwards in sharp blades atop her head, even as a braid draped down across her shoulder and a ponytail descended down behind her. She wore a linothorax cuirass and pteruges, though her legs were unprotected by the delicate sandals on her feet, and she held a spear lightly in one hand. Her features were sharp, and her eyes held a touch of muted green about them. Metallic grey rings adorned her ears.

Swift Foot knelt. "My lord father." She glanced at Terri Belle. "Sister."

Terri Belle's lips twitched upwards in a brief smile. "Welcome home, Swift Foot; after a fashion."

"What have you to report?" Lord Diomedes demanded.

"My lord, I have successfully infiltrated the house of Pyrrha Nikos."

"Indeed," Lord Diomedes murmured. "Have you sowed discord amongst all of her companions?"

"No, but-"

"Have you broken up her association and rendered Pyrrha Nikos powerless?"

"I've only just arrived," Swift Foot protested.

"Then do not tell me that you have successfully done anything," Lord Diomedes snapped. "Your mission is not successful until it is complete. All you have done is gain entry into the door; I would expect nothing less from you."

Swift Foot lowered her head. "Of course, my lord," she murmured. "I apologise."

"Father, you might let her speak," Terri Belle said reproachfully.

Lord Diomedes glanced at his eldest daughter for a moment, then back to his youngest. "Did you return merely to tell me that you have entered the house?"

"No, my lord, I would not disturb you just for that," Swift Foot said. "I have discovered that Pyrrha Nikos possesses…magic."

Terri Belle's eyes widened. "That is-"

"Impossible!" Lord Diomedes declared. "There is no such thing as magic."

"I saw her with my own eyes, my lord," Swift Foot insisted. "She created vast quantities of fire and ice without the use of dust. Pyrrha revealed her semblance in the Vytal Festival, and it was not this. She conjured the elements from nothing and destroyed the grimm with them. I know not how else to explain it."

"How did she explain it?" Terri Belle demanded.

Swift Foot glanced at her eldest sister. "She called herself the Fall Maiden," she said. "As in the fairy tale our mother read to us."

"A children's story?" Lord Diomedes spat.

"An unlikely lie, is it not?" Terri Belle murmured. "Are you certain of what you saw?"

"I am," Swift Foot insisted. "Call it what you will, but she has power within her, greater than many suspect."

"If she is so much greater than why hide it?" Terri Belle asked.

"I…I don't know," Swift Foot admitted. “But when confronted by the people of Thebes she concocted an obvious lie which they were gracious enough to believe. She has some reason to conceal the truth, I simply do not know what that reason is yet.”

"Then discover it, and swiftly," Lord Diomedes demanded. "Discover all that you can about these powers and where in the world others may lie that could yet be acquired by worthier hands." For a moment, he threatened to smile in anticipation of such a discovery, but he no longer had the face for smiles, if he ever had possessed such. "And complete your task. I have this very day received a proposal that may clip the wings of Pyrrha Nikos, but nevertheless, I would pluck out her feathers and watch her plummet to the ground, and all the moreso if she possesses these...magical powers that you attribute to her. Whether she is under my command or no, so long as she fights on, so long as the people see her leading our defence, she is a danger to this kingdom. Therefore your task remains."

"Yes, my lord,” Swift Foot said at once. “My lord, if I may...what is this proposal of which you speak? I was just with Pyrrha, and I heard nothing of this.”

“No, it has not yet been put to her,” Lord Diomedes said. “Terri Belle, the proposal.”

“Councillor Ward came to us, to ask for terms,” Terri Belle declared. “We will take Pyrrha Nikos and her Myrmidons under the authority of the Council, and the force being raised by Lady Ming also, and Rutulian Security too - identical offers will be made to the Nikos, Ming, and Rutulus families - provided that they submit to me, as Captain-General and Warden of the Mistral Tower, to stay or go entirely at my command.”

“And in return, you will commit your forces to defend the kingdom,” Swift Foot murmured.

“I will do what I must to keep Mistral safe,” Terri Belle said. “Now that I no longer have to fear the spears of the Myrmidons more than the teeth of the grimm.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think she will accept those terms?”

“I...I cannot say, my lord,” Swift Foot said. “I am not so deep into her confidence. Perhaps if you were to add that you will vote with her to dismiss Professor Lionheart-”

“Dismiss Lionheart?” Lord Diomedes repeated. “What is this?”

“She wishes him removed, my lord.”

“He is her ally,” Terri Belle said. “Or he has guarded her flank upon occasion, at least. Does she turn on him?”

“She says that he was never hers to begin with,” Swift Foot replied. “According to Pyrrha, Professor Lionheart is in thrall to the Rutulus family, and he votes according to their interests and only protects the Myrmidons in order to discredit you, my lord."

"Discredit our father?" Terri Belle repeated. "To what end?"

"Pyrrha claims that Professor Lionheart was involved with the terrorist Cinder Fall, her murder of the last of the Kommenos family, and her attacks on Vale last year in conjunction with the White Fang,” Swift Foot explained. “Presumably, she suspects that something similar might happen here, and so Lionheart seeks to sow mischief to prepare the way for such an action.”

“Are you certain she was telling you the truth?” Terri-Belle asked

"I have given her no reason to distrust me,” Swift Foot replied plaintively.

"Hmm," Lord Diomedes mused. "It may be – it is – that Lionheart's actions in recent months have been vexing to me, but...to dismiss him, without an obvious replacement...and if he is the servant of young Lord Rutulus, then he will hardly take kindly to the dismissal of his man upon the council. Although I feel no more kindly towards him than I do to Pyrrha Nikos, I will not offend the one simply to please the other.”

“And what of his connection to the White Fang and other insurrectionists?” Terri-Belle reminded him. “I no more like having a rogue lion within the walls than an eagle we do not command.”

“But an enemy of Vale is not necessarily an enemy of Mistral,” Lord Diomedes told her. “We must learn more before we can say for certain that Lionheart, being foe to one, must needs be an enemy to us as well. As for his dismissal, I will...consider it, but wait upon the replies of both Pyrrha and Turnus to my proposal. Though they will both remain my enemies no matter their replies, if one is willing to bend the knee for a little while and the other is not, I will know which one I can afford to indulge. Was there anything else?”

Swift Foot licked her lips. “No, my lord. Pyrrha has no proof to substantiate her accusations, only her word of Lionheart’s confession, and of the confession of the terrorist Cinder Fall.”

“Which is probably buried in Vale somewhere under the rubble of their tower,” Terri-Belle pronounced, with a touch of resignation. “So there is functionally no evidence at all.”

Swift Foot shook her head. “Practically, no,” she admitted.

“Then return to your mission,” Lord Diomedes said. “Until you have other news to bring before us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“So,” Pyrrha said, “I suppose that we had better have a word with Autumn, hadn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “I guess we had. Do you know what you’re going to say to her?”

“I’m going to ask her why she had to paint me as a threat to the political order and the republic of equals,” Pyrrha replied. “Surely, she could have promoted our cause without going so far?”

Jaune shrugged. “I meant what I said,” he told her. “I really believe that they would have hated you anyway, just for what you’re doing. I don’t think...from what I know of this city, I don’t think it’s fair to blame Autumn’s blogs for a fault that is in the spirits of the nobles. It’s what you do that rouses their ire.”

“And what is said of me,” Pyrrha added.

“In the streets, maybe, but we need the voices in the street to counteract the hatred of the great houses,” Jaune argued. “Fear of the crowd’s anger is what keeps them in check.”

“I know,” Pyrrha admitted. “I know that, but...I wouldn’t be so...if the Council did its duty, if the other families... if they did what was right, as we do, then they could share in what honour accrues to us; instead, they are driven to such fear of me that they huddle within the walls, nursing their strength-”

“Do they?” Jaune asked. “Or do they say that to save face, because it gives them a plausible excuse to remain at home?”

Pyrrha did not respond immediately. She glanced away, a sigh escaping her as her chest rose and fell. “For some, that might be the case,” she conceded, “but for others...there was a time when I looked up to Swift Foot’s sister. I never had what I would call friends amongst the society of Mistral, but I have grown up amongst these people, and I have known them for as long as I have known myself.” What was a prodigy of a daughter, after all, if she could not be shown off? Pyrrha had been presented, displayed like a prize pig, at no end of parties throughout her youth and childhood. The eyes of Turnus, Juturna, the Steward’s eldest daughters...she had seen their faces many times and felt their eyes upon her as she stood, still and silent while her mother spoke on her behalf upon the subject of her daughter’s greatness. “Though they have never liked me, though I have threatened them through no desire of my own...I would not think them cowards, nor the kind of people who would abandon Mistral’s territories to their fate simply to spite me.”

Jaune’s voice, when it came, was quiet. “And if they were the kind of people who would abandon Mistral’s territories because of what a playwright wrote on their blog, what kind of people would that make them? Speak to Autumn about her tone, sure, but let’s not pretend that she is the cause of this problem.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, unfortunately, you’re right.” She closed her eyes. When did competition become the envy of accomplishment? When did we stop trying to rise and started seeking to pull others down? When did we lose ourselves? “And yet...although I faced...jealousy from some, it might not have crossed the line into, well, this, if it weren’t for my portrayal as a conqueror on a quest. I might be given more credit for my motives if my motives were not made to seem so cynically self-serving. Or perhaps not. The state of Mistral being what it is...I confess that I really couldn’t say for sure. In any case, we should probably go; Autumn and Arslan are probably waiting for us.”

“Right,” Jaune said, and he reached out to offer her his hand. Pyrrha took it, slipping her smaller hand into his own and feeling his fingers close tenderly over hers. She slid the dojo door open, and they walked out - hand in hand - into the cool night air.

Jaune glanced up. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” he observed.

Pyrrha followed his gaze. “Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, it is. So big and bright.”

“Does it ever strike you as weird?” Jaune asked.

“What?”

“That the moon can be beautiful, even though it’s broken,” Jaune explained.

Pyrrha could see what he meant, but she said, “I’m starting to think that this city is broken...but it’s still beautiful, in my eyes.”

“It is?” Jaune asked, a little incredulously.

“Yes,” Pyrrha insisted. “The view of the city on the flight back will always stir my heart, I hope, and from within the walls...for all its problems, this is Mistral, old and proud and...and mine. I hope to always find it beautiful.”

Jaune looked down at her, a smile upon his face. The smile became a little impish as he said, “You know, if some people heard you calling this city ‘mine,’ they-”

“Oh, no!” Pyrrha said in a tone that was both a groan and a giggle in equal measure. “You’re quite right, of course, which is why I am very glad that there was no one-”

“Ahem.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened as she heard the voice from behind her, suddenly sensing someone close by when no one had seemed to be there before. Jaune was equally surprised to see someone. Pyrrha turned to see that it was Aska Koryu, the reclusive, seldom-seen Atlesian girl, dressed in her black catsuit and mail mesh, with the neon-pink highlights that did nothing to make her any less inconspicuous to the eye.

Aska bowed, her straight black hair falling down around her face. “Forgive me,” she said. “It was not my intent to startle you.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Pyrrha said softly. “It’s simply that we didn’t realise you were there.”

“I am a ninja,” Aska reminded them.

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “You certainly are, aren’t you? Is there anything that I could do for you?”

“No,” Aska said. “But I can watch the house of the Rutulus family for you, in place of Lie Ren.”

Pyrrha blinked rapidly. “Watch the- you know about that? You were listening?”

“I am-”

“A ninja, yes, but I didn’t think that meant that you had no concept of privacy,” Pyrrha said sharply. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Aska informed them.

“And yet you don’t seem very surprised or curious,” Jaune pointed out.

Aska made a slight gesture, a tilting of her head very slightly to one side, in what might have been an acknowledgement of that. “I was never a particularly curious child,” she declared. “Much to the disappointment of my father.” She turned away from Pyrrha and Jaune, crossing her arms. “There is much that you know and do of which most within the house are ignorant, no?”

Pyrrha was silent for a little while, but ultimately, she had no choice but to admit it. “That is correct,” she said. “It is not ideal, it may not even be right, but it is necessary.”

“'Necessary,'” Aska repeated. “That is what my father said, when he tried to explain why he served Professor Ozpin as well as his public masters.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Your father...served Professor Ozpin.”

“Indeed,” Aska said calmly, as if it was no great thing.

“But then...who is he?” Jaune asked.

Aska sighed. “I would prefer not to say,” she replied. “I am no man’s daughter but only Aska Koryu, a warrior of your house.”

“We do not ask to diminish you,” Pyrrha assured her.

“It’s just that we could really use the help,” Jaune said. “Experienced help, from someone who knows what’s going on; it would be invaluable.”

Aska shook her head. “He is too far away to help you. Far, far away, and no doubt preoccupied by troubles in his own land.”

“Oh,” Jaune said, somewhat disconsolately. “That’s...a real pity.”

“Then you know…” Pyrrha trailed off. “How much do you know?”

“I know that there are secrets within secrets and layers underneath the underneath,” Aska said, “but I never wished to see them. I had no patience for Ozpin’s chess game, for the slow moving of pieces in the dark. I wished to see the results of my efforts before my own eyes: like the villages we save and the gratitude of the survivors whom we rescue from the grimm.”

“And yet you offer your services to us now,” Pyrrha pointed out.

Aska nodded her head slightly. “I was no great loss to my father, either as daughter or as pupil. He had others, more attentive to his lessons and more affectionate: warriors swift and thinkers sharp and hearts stalwart to do his bidding. But in this, none may serve you so well as I, who is far better suited to this task then Lie Ren.”

“Are you?” Jaune asked. “What makes you so sure?”

“I am a ninja,” Aska repeated, sounding as though she thought Jaune a little dense for needing it spelled out for the third time. “Stealth is my credo.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said quietly. But can we trust you? Anyone could say that their father - their nameless father - had worked for Professor Ozpin...but if she was lying, then that meant that Salem had put a spy in Pyrrha’s own house, and that was a possibility too horrible to contemplate.

If she was a servant of our enemy, she could have slit my throat in the night and removed the Fall Maiden from the board by now.

And what would a spy gain from offering to spy for me?

Pyrrha stared into Aska’s brown eyes. They were guarded, but she could see no deceit in them.

Not that that proved anything - apparently, the Maidens of old had possessed the power to divine the hearts of men, but Pyrrha had not that skill - but it made her feel a little better as she said, “Very well. Go, if you will, and keep watch for anything out of the ordinary, especially involving Lionheart. And do not be discovered.”

“I shall not,” Aska said proudly.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Of course,” she said. “You are a ninja.”

“Indeed,” Aska replied, as she placed one fist into the palm of her other hand, holding out her arms as she bowed, and as she bowed, she melted back away into the darkness.

“Do you trust her?” Jaune asked.

“I...think so,” Pyrrha replied. “And she was right, Ren was...only the best choice of some unenviable options.” She smiled at him. “And besides, I think we’ve just made Nora very happy.”

Jaune snorted. “That’s always a good thing.”

“It certainly is,” Pyrrha said. “And now…”

“Autumn?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha nodded. “Autumn.”

They found Autumn Blaze, with Arslan, in the study. Arslan was looking at the map of Mistral on the wall, putting red pins into the locations of the four settlements that had come under attack that day. Autumn was sitting down in front of Jaune’s desk, her scroll out, humming to herself.

“La lalalala la la, lala- oh, hey, Pyrrha!” she said cheerily as the two of them came in. “Hey, Jaune! What’s up?”

“Good evening, Autumn,” Pyrrha said, as Jaune shut the door behind them. “I apologise for keeping you waiting.”

“It’s fine,” Autumn said breezily. “Congratulations on all your victories today, I hear some of those fights were pretty tough. Of course, I say that I ‘heard’ that because somebody won’t let me see the footage yet,” she added, with a significant glance towards Jaune.

“Yeah,” Jaune said, slightly awkwardly. “That...might have to wait for a little bit.”

Autumn’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I’ve been called to the headmaster’s office?”

“It’s not like that,” Arslan assured her. “It’s just…” She looked helplessly at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha cleared her throat as she walked around the room to stand beside Arslan. Then she decided that that looked a little too much like she was ganging up on Autumn, so she sat down on the desk. Then she worried that that was still looking down on Autumn too much, so she ended up kneeling down beside her, looking up at their blogger.

“Autumn,” she began. “You might not realise this, but...none of us pay that much attention to everything that you write on your blog. I...no offence, but I simply don’t enjoy reading about myself all that much.”

“I do,” Arslan admitted, “but I’m trying not to, as hard as it is sometimes.”

“Unfortunately,” Pyrrha continued. “Arslan and Neptune both had conversations today that...well, it led us to become a little more curious as to just what you were saying. I had to say that when I had the chance to read some of your entries I was, well-”

“Oh my,” Pyrrha murmured, as she sat at the desk and read through some of Autumn’s blogs. “Oh, my word.”

“-I was extremely shocked,” Pyrrha declared.

“Not least by how very...Pyrrha-centric it is,” Arslan said, with just a little grumpiness in her voice. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends!” Autumn protested.

“Then why am I barely mentioned in some of these entries?”

“You’re always there,” Autumn said.

“I’m a background character!”

“Not always.”

“Sometimes.”

“That...is not great, I admit,” Autumn acknowledged, “but it’s not my fault that Pyrrha’s taken over the narrative. Okay, it is kind of my fault, but in my defence...nobody seems to want to read about anybody but Pyrrha. Did you look at the comment sections?”

Jaune walked around the desk. “Should we have?”

“If you had, you’d have seen that Pyrrha is the only person that anyone wants to talk about,” Autumn said, with brutal honesty. “I’m sorry, but...apparently, she’s the only likeable and engaging person in the house.”

Arslan made a noise like she was about to choke on her apoplexy.

“The only…” Pyrrha repeated. “Who in Remnant would say a thing like that?”

“Uh...Skippy someone, or maybe it’s pronounced Sippy, I’m not entirely sure?” Autumn ventured. “Apparently, things would get very boring if you weren’t around.”

“Really? What an ungenerous-sounding individual,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“So you’re just catering to the base instincts of the readership?” Arslan demanded. “You were supposed to be better than a PR guy.”

“I’m...warming them up to the rest of you,” Autumn insisted. “I’m trying to. Gradually. This isn’t shock therapy; you can’t just run a block of fourteen entries with the most popular character absent and expect people to put up with it.” She glanced towards something indeterminate. “Not unless they’re very patient and forgiving, at least.”

Jaune sighed. “Autumn...we didn’t actually ask you in here to ask you about Arslan’s lack of character focus.”

“I’m starting to think we should have,” Arslan grumbled.

Jaune ignored her. “I know that we asked you to tell a story about us that would garner public support for our efforts, and you’ve done a great job at that, and we’re all very grateful.”

“But?” Autumn asked.

“But so many people - Councillors and representatives of Mistral’s old families that we have spoken to - seem to be afraid that I want to reclaim my family’s throne,” Pyrrha said. “And it is hurting the defence of this kingdom, and...I can’t help but feel that your presentation of me has had some small part in that. And I suppose that the focus issue does come into it, because perhaps the emphasis upon my heritage and my supposed ‘return’ wouldn’t be so noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that your account - which is also the only account - was so focused on me.”

Autumn Blaze did not reply immediately. She looked Pyrrha in the eye, but at the same time, she appeared to be collecting her thoughts. “Pyrrha,” she said, “if you think that there is a different story to be told here, then what is it?”

“The truth?” Pyrrha suggested. “This isn’t a story, Autumn; this is real life and real people and real consequences,” she added, reminded of Sunset and the way in which she had, at times, seemed convinced that they were at the centre of a grand narrative, the only real people on a stage full of spear-carriers. It was an attitude that, with all the love in the world, had led their friend to some terrible missteps. “This is just a group of good and brave people coming together to defend their kingdom and its people in their hour of need.”

“Under your leadership,” Autumn pointed out.

“Well...yes,” Pyrrha admitted. Technically. In name, at least. I am the one that everyone has sworn to, even if Jaune gives the commands in battle.

“You formed this group,” Autumn said. “You assembled all of these people.”

“With help,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“But they follow you,” Autumn replied. “You are the heir to the throne of Mistral, I didn’t make that up; famous swords and the scions of grand old families have flocked to your banner, I didn’t make that up; you are defending the kingdom when all others stand on the sidelines, I didn’t make that up either. I make the battle descriptions readable, but I don’t change any of the salient details about what happens out in the villages. People were calling you the Princess Without a Crown long before I came into your life. People were calling you the hope of Mistral long before you met me. You say that I should tell the truth, but honestly...it sounds as though your problem is the truth.”

“The truth is that I don’t seek the throne,” Pyrrha declared. “And I never have.”

Autumn winced. “The other unfortunate truth is that everyone who ever sought power declaimed all desire for it until they had it.”

Pyrrha froze. Autumn was, unfortunately, quite correct about that, or at least, she was right about it often enough for it to be not worth the trouble to correct her on the universality of her statement. Autumn was right: she could complain about the presentation all she liked, but the fact was that she had done all these things. And Jaune was right, too: having done these things, she would have attracted envy no matter how it was presented.

“With all that said,” Autumn added, “I am sorry. I didn’t...I didn’t think about how it might...I’m sorry. Arslan, I’m really sorry, I know that everyone here gives their all for Mistral, and I shouldn’t have let the loudest voices in the comment section detract from that. From now on, I will give equal share in the limelight to everyone here.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Pyrrha said, because if she could not get away from what she was or what she had done, then perhaps the next best thing would be to present the Myrmidons not as a group of nigh-faceless soldiers under the command of their princess but as a group of gallant individuals, each with their own thoughts and opinions, hopes and dreams, none of which included the restoration of the monarchy and the placing of Pyrrha Nikos upon the Petal Throne. “Talk to them, interview them, show the world that these are not my subjects and that they are here to fight for Mistral, not my rights, that they fight beside me but they do not follow where I lead.”

Perhaps - hopefully - once people understood Sun and Nora and Ren and all the rest a little better, they would see the preposterousness of cowering before the Myrmidons as though they were Pyrrha’s private army.

“Also,” she added, “if you could please see your way clear to giving a little focus to those who we fight to protect. They are our cause, after all, they deserve to be more than background.”

Autumn considered that, nodding along. “Okay,” she said. “You make a good point with that. Does that mean I can come along with you and talk to people after the battle is over?”

Pyrrha considered that in turn. “If you wait on the airship with Photo Finish, then, yes, I suppose you can.”

“Great!” Autumn cried enthusiastically. “I’m sorry about the issues so far, really, I am; starting from now, everything will get a lot better.”

In the circumstances, Pyrrha thought, that might be their best hope.

Juturna floated, lonely as a cloud.

Because she was one.

Her semblance, Incorporeality, let her move through the world at will, visible only to the keenest eye as a very fine cloud. It burnt aura, and some brothers might say that it was a waste to use it in her own house like this, but her aura would always regenerate, and to be honest, Juturna liked being able to come and go as she pleased unnoticed, to spy on people, to find out what they were doing and see if she could help make their dreams come true.

And so, invisibly, she floated down the well-decorated corridor, over the intricately patterned carpet, and into her own bedroom where Camilla sat curled up on Juturna's bed.

This was neither a rare occurrence, nor one that Juturna minded. Camilla was her sister in every way bar the biological, and what belonged to Juturna belonged to Camilla, whether it was the small army of stuffed animals surrounding her on the bed or the sword and shield hanging on the wall or the clothes in the wardrobe. She was even welcome to the guitar that rested on her crossed legs and which she was now strumming experimentally.

"Oh, what do I have to do to make you notice-?" Camilla began, her song interrupted when Juturna materialised in front of her – she couldn't touch anything with her semblance activated – to snatch the guitar out of her hands.

"Girl, I love you, but we will have no soppy ballads in this house," Juturna declared, holding the guitar out of Camilla's reach. "The line has to be drawn somewhere."

Camilla Volsci was a fox faunus, what was more, one of the rare faunus to have two animal traits: the vulpine ears poking out of her long white hair and the bushy tail emerging out from the gap between her pink tunic and her white skirt. Her eyes were crimson and filled with a forlorn melancholy as she stared up at Juturna.

"Sorry," she whispered, as though to speak more loudly would cause her too much pain.

"Don't be like that; you know I…and what do you have to be mopey for?" Juturna demanded.

"You know why," Camilla replied.

"I know that he cares about you," Juturna told her. "He always has, more than he realises. You have everything going for you and nothing to worry about; you're kind and fair-"

Camilla laughed bitterly. "Call you me fair? That fair again unsay when Turnus loves only Pyrrha's fair." She turned around and flopped onto her stomach. "Oh, happy fair," she moaned as she buried her face in one of Juturna's pillows.

Juturna's love for her friend could not quite prevent her from rolling her eyes at this. She shut the bedroom door, put the guitar down resting against the wall, and then went back to the bed to give Camilla's exposed tail a good sharp tug.

Camilla let out a squeak of alarm, and her face was red when she faced Juturna once more. "What was that for?"

"To get you to look at me while I tell you to cut that out!" Juturna cried. She bent down so that she and Camilla were at closer to eye level. "You. Have. Nothing. To. Worry. About," she declared, emphasising every single word. "Pyrrha is marrying somebody else."

Camilla's eyes widened. "She is?"

"Yep," Juturna crowed triumphantly. "She came in here wearing the ring on her finger and told Turnus straight up that it was an engagement ring."

Camilla blinked. "From who?"

"That cute blond she brought home from Vale," Juturna said. “She might have returned from the wars with honour and glory alike, but I think she’s happier that she also returned with a man on her arm.”

"You think he's cute?"

Juturna folded her arms. "I know that it's a national sport at the moment to rag on Pyrrha's taste in men, but I really do, yeah. I mean, he could do with a haircut, something short back and sides maybe, but…anyway, that is not the point. The point is that she's engaged. She's engaged, and she's in love, and the field is wide open for you, provided that you get off your bushy tail and do something about it! Make a move!"

"How am I supposed to make a move?" Camilla demanded. "On Turnus, of all people? He's rich, from an old family as noble as any in Mistral…and he's so strong and…and passionate and…manly; he has those arms, those strong arms that I-"

"Why don't you tell him what you want him to do with his strong arms? You might actually get somewhere," Juturna said exasperatedly.

Camilla's face reddened yet further. "The point…what I was trying to say was that…he's too good for me; I'm just the faunus charity case you let stay with you."

"You're not a charity case; you're the best bowshot in all of Mistral for crying out loud," Juturna said. "I can't believe this. I've seen you stand your ground against a giant nevermore, but confessing your feelings is too much for you?"

"The nevermore was only going to kill and eat me," Camilla said. "Turnus might reject me, and I’d be alive to have to deal with it."

"You have to do something," Juturna told her. "Things can't go on like this, especially now you don't have any excuses." She seized Camilla by the shoulders and hauled her off the bed and onto her feet. "I am going to see you happy if it kills me," she declared. Or if it kills everyone else in Mistral, come to that.

There was a firm knocking at the door. "Juturna? Are you in there?" Turnus called from the other side.

"Uh, just a second," Juturna replied, before dropping her voice. "I've got a great idea. You hide in the closet, and when he comes in, I will recommend you to him."

Camilla's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure that's the great idea you think it is."

"Come on," Juturna whispered. "It'll be fun!"

“For you, maybe, but that doesn’t mean it will help me,” Camilla hissed. “And wasn’t this in that play we saw last week?”

"Sister, I need to speak to you," Turnus said.

"Yeah, I know, give me a minute, okay?" Juturna shouted at him, before returning her attention to Camilla. "Trust me. I am the best matchmaker you will ever have. Now go on."

In spite of the incredibly reluctant look on her face, Camilla allowed herself to be shoved into Juturna's closet amongst the mixture of Mistralian haute couture and Weiss Schnee-branded t-shirts. Juturna shut the door on her, before finally returning to the bedroom door and throwing it open. Turnus was standing on the other side, looking a little impatient. He frowned slightly as he looked over the top of her head into the room.

"What?" Juturna asked.

"I thought I could hear you talking to someone," Turnus murmured.

"Oh, was I talking to myself again?" Juturna asked. "I've got to try and keep an eye on that. So anyway," she continued, turning her back on him for a moment and retreating into the room to stand beside the white wardrobe in which Camilla was concealed, "what can I do for you, Big Brother?"

Turnus walked slowly into the room, still looking around as though he expected to find someone else there. "Pyrrha Nikos came to visit me today," he said.

"I know," Juturna said. "I caught her on the way out. Great news about the engagement, huh? We need to think of a wedding present."

Turnus growled wordlessly, as his hands clenched into fists.

"Don't be like that," Juturna chided him. "Nobody likes a sore loser, especially one who wasn't really in the race to start with."

"Her mother gave me expectations," Turnus began.

"And that would have been a great help if you were trying to marry her mother," Juturna said. "Fortunately, it seems that Pyrrha herself has other ideas."

"'Fortunately'?" Turnus demanded.

"Yes, fortunately," Juturna replied. "I've never understood why you wanted her…okay, yes, I can understand it, but come on! It's done. Do you think she's the only woman in Mistral worthy of you?"

"Of course not," Turnus snapped, as he turned away from her for a moment. "But when I take power in Mistral, my legitimacy will be greatly enhanced by a marriage to the legitimate heir to the throne."

"Well, if it's only legitimacy you're after, then maybe you should marry the mother and let Pyrrha be happy with her blond cutie," Juturna suggested. She shook her head. "I know that you want to be King of Mistral. And you will. And you will be a great king, the king this kingdom needs, and I will support you every step of the way and do whatever I must to make it happen. But do you really want to be a king trapped in a loveless marriage to a queen who hates you? I mean, what are you going to do? Are you going to kill the Valish boy, do you think that's the way to Pyrrha's heart? Because, as a girl, let me tell you…no. Just, no. And you don't need her. Maybe a royal marriage would have been nice to have, but the way things are going, people are going to start begging you to overthrow the council soon." They'd better, the way that Lionheart is making sure that nothing gets done. "Why don't you think about someone else? Someone who can make you happy, a helpmeet on the throne, someone to share your burdens, to comfort you; someone who has always been there by your side, supporting you every step of the way. Someone who might be so much closer than you think. Someone…under this very roof, in fact."

Turnus looked at her as though she had started to worry him. "Sister, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No, what –aah! No!" Juturna yelped as she realised abruptly what he thought she meant. "No! Ugh! Why would you even think that?"

"What else was I supposed to think?" Turnus asked.

There was a loud bang from inside the wardrobe, as though someone had just slammed his or her head into the door.

Both Rutulus siblings fell silent.

"What was that?" Turnus demanded.

"What was what?" Juturna asked innocently.

"The banging from inside the wardrobe," Turnus said.

"Oh, that," Juturna said. "That's just my, uh, loud wardrobe." She smiled as she leaned against the closet.

Turnus stared at her with bemused incredulity. "I don't really care what you're up to, Sister, but I came here with a serious question: Who is Salem?"

Juturna swallowed. Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha, why did you have to go and open your mouth? "'Salem'? That…that is an unusual name. Where did you hear that?"

"Pyrrha," Turnus said, confirming what Juturna already knew. "She said that Lionheart was working for someone named Salem, and she thought that I was too. She seemed very concerned."

Juturna studied her fingernails ostentatiously. "You know, Pyrrha's got a lot to be concerned about, rushing around trying to save the world like she's doing."

"Juturna," Turnus said, his voice stern as he took a step towards her. "Enough games. Who is Salem, why do they concern Pyrrha, and what is Lionheart doing here?"

"You know what Lionheart is doing here," replied Juturna. "He's helping you."

"But why did you want him here?"

"To help you!" Juturna cried. "Everything that I do is to help you, to bring about your hopes and dreams, for the sake of your happiness." She paused. "But some of the ways I do it are my business. Put the name of Salem out of your mind; you don't need to concern yourself with that."

"If you have brought something into my house-"

"It's my house, too," Juturna reminded him.

"But not ours alone," Turnus replied. "Camilla dwells here also, and if you put her in danger through your plots…if any harm came to her, I don't know if I could ever forgive you."

A lovelorn sigh issued from out of the wardrobe.

Turnus said, "Camilla, what are you doing in there?"

"I'm starting to wonder that myself," Camilla admitted.

Turnus opened the wardrobe door and stepped back to let Camilla climb out. "Do I want to know?"

"I certainly don't want you to," Camilla murmured as she emerged, white-faced with embarrassment. She glared at Juturna. "That was not fun," she declared.

"I tried," Juturna said with a helpless shrug.

Turnus said, "Is this all as much a mystery to you as it is to me?"

"Salem? I have never heard the name before."

Which was how I wanted it, Juturna thought. "It's not a name you need to know."

"Then why does Pyrrha know it?" Turnus demanded. "And what is the connection to Lionheart? Pyrrha told me that Lionheart had betrayed Mistral but would not say to whom; is that to do with Salem also?"

"Juturna," Camilla said, her voice soft but firm, "if you have brought the enmity of Pyrrha Nikos upon us, we have the right to know."

"I have brought nothing," Juturna cried. "If there is enmity, it is on Pyrrha's part and no fault of mine; I wish her nothing but the best. Nor do I know what she knows – or thinks she knows – of Salem."

"What do you know?"

"I know…I know…" Juturna hesitated, wondering where to start. I asked a hole in the ground to help me make my brother a king and my best friend a queen. I asked the Dark Mother to help me make my family's dreams come true. "I know that I am your sister and your best friend, and I would never hurt you, nor allow you to come to harm, nor allow any peril into your lives, because you are both dearer to me than life itself. Is that not also enough for you to know?"

Turnus stared into her eyes, his hands moving slowly as he reached out to her. "Yes," he said. "It is enough, provided that you also add that you will not put yourself in danger. For you are dear to me also."

"To both of us," Camilla added, placing her hand on top of the joined hands of the two siblings.

Juturna smiled. "Never fear," she said. "I will always be with you. Whether you want me to be or not."

Camilla snorted, her white hair falling across her face as she gave an involuntary bow.

"I will leave you then," Turnus said and turned to go.

"And so will I," Camilla added, following after him. "Take care."

"Good luck," Juturna said, pointing at the retreating Turnus. "Do something!" she hissed.

Camilla shook her head in fright and made her exit before Juturna could press her further upon the point. She shut the door behind her, leaving Juturna alone.

I’ll never tell you what I’ve done, and it won’t matter as long as you’re happy.

Salem will give me the power to sweep aside all obstacles in your path, and that’s all my heart desires.

Because you’re my family and my best friends.

And I’d never turn away, or let you down when you really needed me. Not even for the world.

The Maiden's Choice

Author's Note

Everyone who hasn't already done so please check out this blog post.

The Maiden's Choice

The Maiden’s Choice

Thanks to her mother informing her last night of what had passed between her and their friends upon the council, Pyrrha was not surprised by a visit from Councillor Ward the next morning. She was not curious as to why he had come, only as to what in specific he had brought with him.

She received him in the airy drawing room on the first floor, where the large windows admitted not only a great quantity of light but also offered a stunning view of the beautiful grounds of the Nikos estate. The walls were scarlet, with golden leaf patterns tracing their curved and willowy ways across the red background, while columns of golden marble - structurally unnecessary but rather lovely to look on - affected to support the corners of the room. Pyrrha was accompanied by Jaune, her mother, and also by the councillor's son, Cicero Ward the Younger. Pyrrha was armoured but not armed, as was the younger Cicero, while Jaune was neither; her mother wore a gown of red, trimmed with cloth-of-gold.

"Young Lady Pyrrha, the sight of you gladdens the eye, just as the news of your accomplishments gladdens the heart of every true son or daughter of Mistral," Councillor Ward declared as he strode into the room. "The Champion of Mistral indeed."

Pyrrha smiled and leaned forward to let him plant a pair of kisses on her cheeks. "You flatter me with your praise, Councillor, just as you honour us with your presence. You know my mother, of course, and I believe you've met," - her smile widened and became brighter - "my fiancée, Jaune Arc."

Councillor Ward's thin eyebrows rose just a little as his eyes darted to the ring on Pyrrha's finger. "Congratulations, young man, you have plucked the fairest rose in Mistral and will be the envy of the city for it. You are fortunate indeed."

"I'm well aware, sir, thank you," replied Jaune softly as he reached out and took Pyrrha's hand in his own.

"And of course your own son, our valiant comrade," Pyrrha added.

"Indeed," Councillor Ward repeated. "I hope, young Cicero, that you continue to fight bravely and live virtuously."

A smile played upon Cicero's face. "How can I not, Father, when you have sent me such a long description of what it is to do so?" To which his father only chuckled in reply.

"Please, Councillor, take a seat," Pyrrha said, gesturing with her free hand – the hand on which gleamed her engagement ring – to one of the armchairs.

"Thank you, child," Councillor Ward said, taking the seat indicated by her. Pyrrha and Jaune sat down upon the green settee opposite, with Lady Nikos taking the chair upon their left and the younger Cicero the chair to their right.

Councillor Ward waited a moment for everyone to be seated before he said, "I take it that you all know why I am here?"

"You have a proposal that will make us legitimate," Cicero said.

"Quite so, my boy," Councillor Ward replied. "I have spoken to Lord Thrax, and he will not make any public offer to you for obvious reasons-"

"He wants to make sure that it won't be refused," Jaune said.

Councillor Ward nodded. "Precisely, Mister Arc; he will not extend his hand only to have it spat upon. Hence why I have come, to ensure that any offer that he makes to you will be accepted so that, by the time that the public learns of this, there is nothing left but the theatre of proclaiming what has already been decided."

Pyrrha nodded. "Thank you, Councillor, for your efforts on our behalf. What offer is Lord Thrax willing to extend to us?"

"A very reasonable one, in many respects," Councillor Ward assured her. "Lord Thrax is sorely vexed by the proliferation of armed companies within the city; therefore, identical overtures are being made to Lady Ming and to Lord Rutulus."

"And to the Iron Grenadiers?" Jaune asked pointedly.

Councillor Ward's laughter had an edge of discomfort to it. "No, dear boy; our policy ought, of course, to be guided by principle, but it must also be directed by prudence. One should not rush to make an enemy of MARS."

"Doesn't the fact that no one is so afraid of making an enemy of us prove that there's nothing to fear and all of this is pointless?" Jaune replied.

Councillor Ward hesitated for a moment. "An interesting argument, to be sure, but – although I have and do support your efforts to defend our kingdom – I must say that the principle that the defence of the kingdom ought to be organised under the authority of the kingdom's government is one with which I am in agreement."

"If only the government of the kingdom was prepared to defend the kingdom," Pyrrha remarked.

"Quite so," Councillor Ward acknowledged. "Much confusion and many misunderstandings have hampered that first duty of the Council, but with goodwill from all concerned, those misunderstandings can soon be banished to the past. If you will hear the terms."

"We wait with bated breath, Councillor," Lady Nikos said, her voice betraying a touch of impatience.

"Of course," Councillor Ward said. He cleared his throat, pausing for a moment as the sound of birdsong from the gardens outside penetrated the windows. "The Steward of Mistral proposes to create a unified command structure for the defence of Mistral. The Myrmidons, Lady Ming's company, and Rutulian Security would each continue to be led by their own chosen commanders, but all – together with the police, the Imperial Guard, and all other huntsmen presently under the command of the Steward – will swear obedience to the Council and to its appointed Captain-General, who will command all forces in the kingdom and direct them to the best advantage of the kingdom's defence."

"Has the Captain-General been chosen already?" Pyrrha asked.

"Indeed; it will be Lady Terri-Belle Thrax, Captain of the Imperial Guard and a huntress of skill and renown," Councillor Ward replied. "All operational commands will come from her, and no action to be taken by any company without her leave."

Pyrrha could not help but frown at that. "So, if we were to receive a distress call, we could not go to the aid of them who sent it without first approaching Lady Terri-Belle for her leave to do so?"

"It is so, but I cannot see that she would deny that leave," Councillor Ward said. "What reason would she have to do so?"

"I cannot think of any, but that doesn't mean that precious time could not be lost in the delay," Pyrrha deliberated aloud. Although, in truth, it was not so much that which worried her – that could be mitigated against, by assembling on the docking pads and making ready to go as soon as they got the go-ahead, for instance – but the crushing blow that would be dealt to her autonomy to act against menaces of which Terri-Belle was as yet unaware. How could she defend Mistral against Salem under those conditions? How could she explain her need to move to, for example, retrieve the Spring Maiden or protect the Relic of Choice, to Terri-Belle? At present, as much as some quarters might suspect her motives, she was yet free to act as she wished to keep Mistral safe from all the menaces that surrounded it. Under this arrangement that had been put to her, she would free herself from suspicion, but at the same time, she would give up the freedom to protect her kingdom. She had no wish to defy the Council, and the Champion of Mistral might have found this proposal, limiting though it was, acceptable. But she was not only the Champion of Mistral but the Fall Maiden, and the Fall Maiden could not surrender her autonomy so easily. Pyrrha took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Councillor, but as things stand – as you have described them – I must decline."

Councillor Ward blinked rapidly in surprise. "Decline?" he repeated. "You mean-"

"I am happy to place myself at the disposal of the Council," Pyrrha said. "But I must be allowed some freedom to act as I see fit."

"Must you?" Councillor Ward replied. "Why?"

"Because…because I trust my own judgement," Pyrrha said quietly, "too much to completely set it aside."

"Pyrrha!" Cicero hissed. "What are you saying? We're being offered a chance to legitimise ourselves-"

"We're not illegitimate right now," Jaune reminded him.

"Not yet," Councillor Ward replied. "If Lady Ming and Lord Rutulus bend the knee to the Steward, it will be difficult to explain why you will not."

"I understand," Pyrrha said, "but I am afraid that I must ask you to trust me, Councillor."

"Trust you," Cicero the Younger said. "I did trust you, I trusted that you – that we – were doing the right thing, no matter how some people disapproved, but now, when you have a chance to prove our good intentions, you throw it in my father's face." He scowled. "Perhaps those who call you a would-be tyrant are right about you after all."

"That's ridiculous!" Jaune snapped. "In all the time you've been here, Pyrrha has done nothing but work to the good of Mistral and you know that."

"You're both being given the opportunity to work for the good of Mistral, and you're turning it down!" Cicero cried. "For no good reason."

Jaune's voice was cold. "If you don't believe in what we're doing anymore, then you're free to go."

Cicero was silent for a moment, looking from his father to Pyrrha and then back again. "I still believe in what we're doing," he declared. "I'm just no longer sure that's all we're doing."

You are right to be so uncertain; more's the pity, Pyrrha thought.

"I must confess that I also find my faith in this venture somewhat shaken by your intransigence," Councillor Ward concurred. "Is there nothing that I can say to change your mind?"

"You can ask Lord Thrax to grant me a little more latitude in action," Pyrrha said. "And, at the same time, suggest to him the dismissal of Leonardo Lionheart from his post as headmaster of Haven Academy. I am willing to serve the Council; I desire nothing but to see our kingdom secured against danger. But as it is, I cannot consent to what you have proposed."

Councillor Ward shook his head. "Lady Nikos, will you not speak sense to your daughter?"

"I have found that, since I began to listen more closely, my daughter speaks a great deal of sense herself," Lady Nikos replied.

Any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of footsteps running down the corridor. Arslan burst through the door, looking to Pyrrha and Jaune over Councillor Ward's head. "We've got trouble," she said. "Uiharu just got a distress call, Manjushage is under attack."

Jaune ran down the corridors, his footsteps a swift drumbeat upon the wooden floor of the house as he made his way towards and down the stairs. All around him, the house was abuzz with activity as people armed themselves, checked their weapons, and made their way out of the house. Uiharu had already notified almost all the Myrmidons via their scrolls; it was only the fact that Pyrrha and Jaune had left their scrolls so as not to be disturbed in their meeting with Councillor Ward that had necessitated Arslan to come and get them.

Pyrrha had the vanguard today herself, so her group – Team PRAN, Team JAMM, and Swift Foot – would be in the air first, while other teams dressed for battle, got back from wherever in the city they were, assembled in their teams, and followed as quickly as they could. At least it was only one village under attack this time.

Under attack from what, though? He wouldn't know that until he reached the stable.

He had already kissed Pyrrha goodbye. He had kissed her goodbye in the drawing room, in spite of witnesses, because by the time she got Miló and Akoúo̱ from her room, there wouldn't be time for a goodbye kiss. He had kissed her goodbye as she went into battle, not knowing yet what she would be facing when she got there.

He left the house, passing Ren and Nora in the hallway with barely any time to acknowledge their presence as he burst out of the front door and sprinted across the grounds into the shade of the stable. Uiharu was already waiting for him there, sitting on her chair at the drone controls, her expression anxious.

Jaune slowed to a halt beside her. "What's going on?"

"I-I'm not sure," Uiharu replied. "We got a distress call from Manjushage, but it's already been cut off."

"'Cut off'?" Jaune repeated. There's no way that the village could have been overrun that fast, is there? "Did they say what they were being attacked by? Grimm or bandits?"

"Bandits, I think," Uiharu said. "They…here, I'll bring up the message." Her scroll sat on the desk in front of her, next to the squat and square control console for the drone; Uiharu picked up the smaller device and began to tap at it, her fingers flying over the screen.

One of the projectors established in front of her stirred to life, activating to display an image of a woman in earthy, workaday robes, her eyes wide with fear as she stared out of the screen. "This…this is an urgent message from Manjushage. We're under attack; you have to help us!"

Uiharu's voice, recorded, issued forth. "Of course. Arslan, tell Pyrrha. What's attacking you? Is it the grimm?"

"No, they're not grimm; they must be bandits. They drove into our village: a truck, some kind of armoured vehicle…and now there’s this gas everywhere and…" she began to cough as a green haze began to spread throughout the room around her. She tried to cover her mouth with her sleeve, but it was no good. Jaune could see her beginning to sway on her feet. “You…have…help.” She collapsed, disappearing out of view.

“Ma’am?” Uiharu’s recorded voice cried. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

There was a robotic clanking sound from somewhere just out of view. An android, an Atlesian AK-130, entered the frame; its visor was glowing red as blood as it stared into the screen.

The recording ended in a burst of static.

"That's it," Uiharu murmured.

Jaune folded his arms across his chest, a frown settling across his face. "They got into the village by pretending to be friendly. That’s new, and disturbing. Get the drone in the air."

"Right," Uiharu said, her fingers flying across the drone controls to activate the flier before she gripped the black stick jutting up from the control panel to guide it upwards into the air.

The projected screen blinked to life once more, showing an image of the Nikos family garden as the drone rose up off the ground and, guided by Uiharu, began to fly.

"Bandits don’t usually operate like that, do they?" Uiharu said, as the drone soared over the streets of Mistral, the slopes of the mountain – covered in houses, in gardens, in open market squares – falling away beneath the underslung camera as the mountain and the city alike gave way to the fertile fields and farming townships that lay around. She glanced at Jaune. "And where did they get Atlesian mechs?"

"The same place Manjushage got them," Jaune muttered. “The Atlesians left a lot of stuff behind when they pulled out for home after Beacon Tower fell.” Although that doesn’t explain where they got the gas from, plus enough protective gear that they could use it safely. MARS, maybe. “And, yeah, it’s not great that they’re using ruses and, well, strategy now. But I guess we can’t be too surprised; there’s no way that a conventional attack on that town would have succeeded.” Manjushage was one of the most prosperous settlements under the protection of the Myrmidons, a prosperity underpinned – since ancient times, according to Pyrrha - by sericulture. When Jaune had observed the initial set-up of defences in Manjushage, he had also seen the vast acres of mulberries surrounding the town, all of them being devoured by hungry silkworms, until the time came for the silkworms themselves to be devoured.
Manjushage had used this prosperity to purchase additional defences for their community: MARS turrets and Atlesian androids – a mixture of AK-200s, the older AK-130s, even a couple of automated Paladins – left behind by the Atlesian forces when they pulled out and which had been rescued by enterprising scrap dealers.
Honestly, Manjushage was one of the toughest nuts to crack in the whole region that Pyrrha and her comrades protected, and Jaune thought that the average bandit tribe would have given it a miss and moved on in search of an easier target. It had taken an unusually subtle and intelligent – and well-resourced – kind of bandit to conceive of an attack that would penetrate the town’s defences.

"Try hailing them again," Jaune said. "Actually, no, you concentrate on the drone. I'll hail them." He got out his scroll – keeping one eye on the camera feed from their drone as it soared swiftly across the lands of Mistral, flying like an arrow towards its destination – and tried to raise Manjushage.

There was no response.

"Jaune," Pyrrha's voice broke into his ear, "we're in the air now, what are we looking at?"

"Bandit attack, I think,” Jaune replied. “It seems as though they gained entry into the town under false pretences and then unleashed some kind of gas on the population."

“'Gas'?”

“Yes, so be careful,” Jaune said. “They may also have Atlesian androids with them.”

“We can deal with that; it’s the gas that concerns me,” Pyrrha replied. “Do you know what it does?”

“No, and we can’t find out because communications are down, destroyed by one of the androids. Once the drone gets overhead, I'll let you know what you're up against."

"Thank you."

Jaune kept on trying to raise Manjushage. There was never any response. He couldn't even establish a connection with it. It was like he'd said to Pyrrha: the issue wasn't that nobody was answering; it was that he couldn't even get a signal through to their relay. In the meantime, the drone soared across the land, passing over farm and field and forest, over other towns and villages that, thankfully, were not in need of their protection today, over rills and rivers, over herds of deer running free and herds of goats running the herdsmen ragged, over dairy farms and tobacco plantations. It flew over Mistral until Manjushage itself began to crest into view, at which point, Jaune stopped trying to reach the town and started focussing all of his attention on the view out of the camera being projected up in front of him.

Gas was rising out of the town, a dark and sickly green colour, clogging and choking the town, even as it rose up into the sky. The breeze, moving northwards, pushed the rising gas a little in that direction, beginning to disperse it, but it was doing its work so slowly. The town continued to be engulfed, for the moment, in a thick green haze that acted like a smoke screen. It was impossible for him to see what was going on within the walls. All he could make out were shapes, very large, bulky shapes, moving in the smoke, obscured by the haze.

"Can you get a better resolution?" he asked. Whatever was in there…were they mechs? The image was so poor that he couldn’t say; he didn't know what he was looking at.

"I can try and magnify," Uiharu said. She reached for the controls with her free hand, but as she did so, there was a swift and sudden movement in front of the camera before the screen went black.

“What happened?” Jaune demanded. “Did we just lose the drone?”

Uiharu tapped a few buttons on the control console. “It’s not responding.”

Jaune bit back a curse. Anti-air capability too? These bandits are way too well-equipped. "Get another drone up in the air; this time, we'll approach from maximum altitude and hope they can’t hit us that high up." He tapped his earpiece to unmute it. "Pyrrha, we just lost our drone."

"Did you get a look at what we’re up against?"

"No," Jaune confessed. "The gas was acting like a smoke screen, but worst case, they have mechs and AA capability.”

“That’s a lot of firepower for a bandit tribe,” Pyrrha murmured grimly.

“I know. Be careful out there in those airships. I'm trying to deploy another drone, but…be careful."

"Always," Pyrrha said. "Though my main concern…is that it sounds like we might already be too late."

By this point, Uiharu had managed to get the second drone up into the air, and Jaune watched the images relayed back from its camera with a sense of constant apprehension that stalked him like a wolf stalking a deer in the thicket. He felt restless with unease, goosebumps rising on his arms. He didn't like not knowing what Pyrrha and the others were walking into.

All the images coming back from the drone were much smaller than they had been before, a consequence of the drone being much higher. He could have asked Uiharu to magnify, but for the moment, he preferred the wider view, even if it meant that he couldn't catch the detail. The drone flew across the land, passing the airships that were carrying Pyrrha and her comrades into battle, outstripping the main body and even the vanguard in the race to Manjushage.

Jaune noticed, abruptly, that Lady Nikos and Councillor Ward had emerged from the house. While Councillor Ward lingered in the stable doorway, Lady Nikos approached to stand beside him.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"A bandit attack of some kind, but we’re a bit unsure of the details right now," Jaune replied. "My lady."

She shook her head. "There is no need to stand on ceremony here, Mister Arc. You are the commander; I am merely an observer."

Jaune grunted. If I'm the commander, why don't I know what's going on?

Once more, a drone approached the town, and once more, Jaune saw that the gas, for all that it was beginning to be blown away by the wind, was yet lying thick enough to obscure the town from aerial view. This time, however, nothing shot down their drone or attempted to intercept it in any way. There was only the gas, thick and green and slowly being blown away.

There was no sign of any fighting still going on at Manjushage. Bizarrely, the acres of mulberries on which the silkworms fed fat to give the town its great prosperity were untouched.

And as far as he could tell, there was nothing moving in the gaseous haze.

"Are…are we too late?" Uiharu asked plaintively. "Already? How…how is that possible?"

"I don't know," Jaune confessed. It made no sense at all. The bandits had launched a sneak attack, driving their truck and their AFV – it occurred to Jaune that that might be a transforming mech of some sort – into Manjushage, possibly with a flag or something that suggested they were friendly. Anyway, they had gotten inside and unleashed gas. Okay, if you accepted that as well as gas, they had protective gear, then that made sense; they could get started on their looting faster. But you couldn’t fit a whole bandit tribe – able to get its hands on large amounts of gas, and with the kind of record of success that would give them the confidence to come up with a plan like this – into one truck. So where were the rest? Why was there no sign of them? Was this entire attack being executed by ten or twelve guys? Putting himself in the shoes of a bandit chief, if he had possession of a large amount of gas, he would have dropped it and then only sent his people in after it had started to take effect, not beforehand. It didn’t make any sense. And where were they now?

And why haven’t we heard of any bandit tribe able to pull off this kind of operation before?

"Circle around in an increasing radius,” Jaune instructed Uiharu.

"Looking for what?"

"Survivors, the bandits, grimm, anything!" Jaune snapped. He sighed. "Sorry, I just…I'm a little on edge."

"I get it," Uiharu said softly. "Starting the search."

"Thank you," Jaune murmured. "Pyrrha…I've got bad news."

Too late.

The words reverberated through Pyrrha’s mind, two words repeating over and over again like a drumbeat. Too late.

She knelt in the airship doorway, one hand resting upon the door. She was looking out for any sign of attack – such as by whatever had destroyed one of their drones – but really, she wanted to avoid looking at anyone else for fear that she would see her shame written upon their faces. Too late. No enemy to fight, no grimm to defeat…no settlement to save.

It didn’t matter that it was incredible that they could get in and get out so swiftly; it didn’t matter that they had not – could not have – see this coming. All that mattered was that they hadn’t saved Manjushage.

All that mattered was that they were too late.

A town depending on them for protection, all those people who had put their trust in her and her companions, and they had let them down.

Too late.

Pyrrha felt a hand upon her shoulder, Arslan’s hand, as the other girl knelt down beside her. “This isn’t your fault,” Arslan said.

“It can be no one’s fault but mine,” Pyrrha replied.

“I think the bandits might have had something to do with it,” Arslan remarked. “You were as fast as anyone could have been.”

“Not fast enough,” Ren declared gloomily.

“No one could have gotten here from Mistral any faster,” Arslan insisted.

Maybe not, Pyrrha thought, but perhaps with more resources, the town could have been defended in some way.

With resources that, ultimately, only the Council could provide.

I prized my autonomy because I needed the freedom to defend Mistral. What would the people of Manjushage say about that?

“Pyrrha,” Arslan said sharply, breaking into her thoughts, “what else could you have done, huh? Answer me that.”

I could have accepted the Steward’s offer, Pyrrha thought. It would not have saved Manjushage, but it might have ensured that there could be no repeat.

Perhaps…might there still be time?

“These particular bandits are…extraordinarily intelligent and well-equipped,” Swift Foot observed. “Quite out of the ordinary. I’m sure there’s no way that either you or Jaune could have foreseen something like this. There is no shame in it, for either of you.”

“There is always shame in failure,” Pyrrha insisted. “Especially when that failure is…especially when people are depending on you.”

“But we can’t let it rule us,” Nora said, speaking to Pyrrha and Ren both. “Not right now. We don’t know what’s waiting for us down there, we might still need to fight, and we need everyone at their best, not…this.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she got to her feet. “Trust me, Nora,” she said coldly. “I am quite prepared to fight.”

“Speaking of which,” Arslan said. “Jaune, what’s waiting for us? What do you see?”

“The gas is largely dispersed now, so you should be able to land,” Jaune replied. “The town is intact, but I can’t see any people.”

“Oh, gods,” Pyrrha murmured. She couldn’t see any reason why bandits would move the bodies, so then that must mean... “Where have they taken them? A convoy with so many prisoners can’t have just disappeared!”

“We can’t see anything,” Jaune replied. “No vehicles, no prisoners, nothing. It’s like they vanished.”

“A small group couldn’t abduct a whole town full of incapacitated people,” Ren said. “And a large group couldn’t vanish so completely.”

“What about the town’s defences?” Arslan asked.

“Taken out,” Jaune said. “I can see the wreckage of the androids in the street.”

Swift Foot’s face was pale, and her expression pained. “Are you sure some of them aren’t-?“

“Yes,” Jaune cut her off. “Trust me;I’m sure.”

“Keep searching the area for any sign of the enemy,” Pyrrha ordered. “We’ll search the town for survivors.”

“Understood,” Jaune said. “Good luck in there.”

The airships carried Teams PRAN and JAMM over the mulberry fields and the town walls until they were over Manjushage itself. The town was a fairly typical example of a Mistralian settlement built in the Qing style, with sloping roofs and high, pagoda-like towers. The streets were paved and so, a little more unusually, were the roads leading away from town, which meant that they couldn't attempt to track the town's attackers as they could have over dirt tracks in the right conditions.

This town had survived since ancient times, when Mistral was young and the kingdom was in the bloom of its strength; it had survived as Mistral had reached the zenith of its glory and entered into its long decline; it had survived Red Queens and grimm attacks; it had survived the Great War and the Faunus Revolution. But now, in a single day, this town had died. Because she had been too late.

Too late and arrogant and selfish beyond words.

Now that they were overhead, Pyrrha could see what Jaune had reported: the town itself looked to have escaped damage for the most part; there were some houses that had been damaged and one or two that had been wrecked by the use of what looked like high-powered weapons of some description...high powered energy weapons that had left burn marks where they had struck.

High powered energy weapons...or magic.

The Branwen Tribe? It made more sense than the alternative of rogue Atlesian forces running amok throughout Mistral. Raven Branwen had the Spring Maiden in her hands, she had tried to get Yang and Ruby for her tribe, she might have an interest in acquiring powerful weapons of every kind, technological and living and magical.

Though even that doesn’t explain how they managed to get out so quickly and evade our eyes.

A frown creased her features; if this was the work of the Branwen tribe and the Spring Maiden, then it seemed that the possibility of bringing her back to Mistral peacefully might be forestalled by the Maiden’s character. It was likely to end as Jaune had predicted it would.

Arslan, Nora, I hope you’re ready.

I’m sorry that you must be ready.

The defences of Manjushage had been wrecked, and the androids that the town had purchased were now scattered in pieces throughout the streets. Assuming that the gas had done its work across the entire town, Pyrrha guessed that it was the battle with the androids that had caused what little evidence of devastation that they could see.

But how did they manage to do this so quickly, to leave before we arrived? Even accounting for the power of the Spring Maiden, looting a town took time, or at least she presumed it did, and there was no way that they could have stolen everything that they had come for so swiftly. A teleporting semblance would explain how they were able to get in and out, but to do on such a large scale – Sunset had struggled to teleport with one or two other people – would surely drain aura at a fantastic rate, to the extent that even someone as prodigiously supplied with it as Jaune would struggle.

Wouldn't it?

She was wasting time in these thoughts to which she had no answer. Even if she was too late to save Manjushage, nevertheless, this was where her duty lay, for now. They had work to do.

"Let's go," Pyrrha said, before she leapt down out of the airship to land in Manjushage's town square; a statue of the town's founder, dressed in his ceremonial robes, looked down upon her. Pyrrha could not help but think that he looked with disapproval.

The rest of her team, including Swift Foot, followed her down, all of them landing upon the stones of the square, swiftly joined by the four members of Team JAMM. They all looked around, weapons ready but seeing no one on whom to use those weapons.

"What happened here?" Medea murmured.

"That's what we're all wondering," Arslan replied.

"Split up and search for survivors," Pyrrha commanded. "But be careful. There might still be some pockets of gas lurking."

"Atalanta," Jaune said, "can you find a high vantage point and keep watch for any grimm that might have been attracted by the attack?"

Pyrrha nodded. Of course, she had forgotten that; no matter how swift the attack had been, no matter how quickly the gas had done its work, that moment of realisation, the time the gas took to take effect would have engendered a swirl of negative emotions – fear, chiefly – and that would bring the grimm.

"Understood," Atalanta said gruffly, her wild hair tossing about her head as she looked around. Her eyes fell upon a tall pagoda rising above the town and its walls, and she ran towards it, leaping from roof to roof until she was standing at the very top, bow in hand, watching.

The rest of them split up: Meleager, Arslan, and Swift Foot set off on their own; Jason and Medea stuck together, as did Ren and Nora. For the former two, Pyrrha thought it was because Medea was not the best fighter once you got past her semblance; for the latter, Nora probably didn't think Ren ought to be alone. Judging by the look in his eyes, Pyrrha was inclined to agree.

Pyrrha, left alone by all the others as they scattered in various directions throughout the town, lingered for a moment in the square, under the founder's disapproving gaze that seemed to demand to know why she had not saved his people. "Jaune," she said, "have you found anything?"

The silence told her all she needed to know even before he answered her. "No," he admitted. "I can't see how they could be hiding or gotten away so fast, but…no, nothing. Teleportation semblance?"

"I thought of that, but…perhaps," Pyrrha conceded. "It does explain it." She frowned. "Jaune, I…"

"Pyrrha?"

"Nothing," Pyrrha said. "We'll talk about it later. Keep searching. I need to start doing the same."

"Okay," Jaune said, his voice quiet and understanding. "I'll be here."

"I know," Pyrrha replied. "But thank you for reminding me." She switched Miló into its rifle form and kept Akoúo̱ slung across her back as she turned towards a large house on the east side of the square. "Inform the others that this is now a search and rescue mission."

"I will," Jaune said glumly.

Pyrrha walked quickly towards the house, her steps echoing off the stones of the otherwise silent square. The door - a splash of blue amidst the white walls – was open, or rather, it had been forced open; it had splintered where someone had kicked it in. At any rate, it did not stop Pyrrha from entering, passing through the doorway into a spacious hallway, with houseplants growing in the corners and by the stairs, while a vase of red lilies sat upon the hall table. An elegant hand had written "lunch with the girls" in the day planner. A stairlift had been installed, adding a dissonantly modern touch to the otherwise traditional décor.

There was no one to be seen.

Pyrrha raised Miló to her shoulder, pressing the stock of the weapon tightly against her body, as she walked through the hall, her footsteps muffled by the carpet underfoot. This reminded her uncomfortably of Mountain Glenn; was she going to see bodies when she opened the next door?

The next door led into the dining room, and it was empty; the table had been cleared away from breakfast and not yet set for dinner. Pyrrha walked around the long dining table and pushed open the double doors that lay on the far side. They led into the drawing room, where she found an old man, his back hunched, his white hair thin and almost completely vanished, his skin wrinkled and spotted with age, slumped in a thick blue armchair with a cup of tea cooling on the table beside him. There were signs that others had been in here with him – there was sheet music resting on the piano, an overturned shogi board with the tiles scattered across the floor, another cup of tea beside an empty armchair – but he was the only one left. Pyrrha approached quickly, lowering her weapon as she knelt down beside him. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

There was no response. Pyrrha checked his pulse; he was still alive. "Jaune, I've found someone."

"Who?"

"An old man; he's unconscious, but alive," Pyrrha replied.

No sooner had she said so than the old man stirred, his blue eyes flickering for a moment before they opened. He started at the sight of Pyrrha before him.

Pyrrha stood up, stepping back and away from him. "Don't be alarmed," she said reassuringly. "I mean you no harm. My name is Pyrrha Nikos; I came to answer the distress message that you sent."

"Pyrrha," the old man murmured. "Pyrrha Nikos, yes, of course; have…have you come to save us?"

Pyrrha bowed her head. "I fear I am too late for that, sir. Can you please tell me your name and what happened here?"

"My name…my name is Xi, I…I was sitting here and then…then this gas. I couldn't breathe. No one could, my son, he…" Xi's aged face, wrinkled as it was, had a kind of resting melancholy about it, but now he looked positively wretched. "That's all I remember. Where is everyone? My wife, my son, my daughter-in-law, where are they? They were all here, in this room; where are they?"

"I…I don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "I haven't finished searching the house, but…you were the only person in this room when I entered."

"And the children?" Xi demanded. "What about the children?" He tried to rise, his arms quivered and trembled as they pressed against the arms of his chair. As he sought to get up, Pyrrha saw that his back was so bent that he was doubled over.

"Here," she said. "Let me-"

"No," Xi said, before he fell back into his chair with a wordless cry of frustration. He shook his head. "Please, check upstairs; see if the children are…please."

"Of course," Pyrrha said, leaving him – for the moment at least – as she went back out through the dining room and into the hallway with its houseplants and its lilies and the day planner. She climbed the stairs two at a time, Miló's barrel pointing downwards toward the floor – if there were children in the house, the last thing she wanted was to frighten them by pointing a gun at them – as she climbed onto the upstairs landing. "Hello?" she called, hoping that if the effects of the gas had worn off for Xi, it would have worn off for others too.

She pushed open the first door on the landing; it was a bedroom, the walls covered with pictures of a man and woman through many years of life together. Judging by the number of aids to mobility – handles on the walls, a low bed, the walk-in bath that Pyrrha could see through the other open door into the en-suite – she guessed that it belonged to Xi and his wife. It was empty, as was the next room that Pyrrha checked: a girl's bedroom with band posters on the powder pink walls. Pyrrha checked under the bed and in the wardrobe, but she didn't find anyone hiding there, nor did anyone answer when she called. There was a jewellery box in the master bedroom that had been left untouched, emeralds and rubies gleaming and glimmering in the light as they spilled out of the open box in invitation to be taken. What kind of bandit would take people but leave such riches?

Pyrrha heard a cry coming from beyond the master bedroom, in a nursery connected to it by an adjoining door. She rushed into the room - which was painted with happy elephants and giraffes along the walls - and in an ornate wooden cradle there, underneath a butterfly mobile, she found a baby, red-faced and squalling, waving its little arms and legs wildly as it cried.

Pyrrha slung Miló across her back, slotting it into place behind Akoúo̱ as she reached into the crib. The baby shrieked louder, frightened by a face he did not know and by all the gold of Pyrrha's armour, but she picked him up and shook him gently up and down as she began to carry him downstairs to his grandfather. "I know," she murmured comfortingly. "I know, little one, I'm sorry. Jaune, I've found another survivor, a baby."

It was the same story across the village. Nora and Ren had found a little girl with golden hair who could barely speak a few words; Arslan had found a bedridden old woman; Swift Foot had come across a toddler who had run out of his house and across the road looking for his mother. As they searched – joined swiftly by the rest of the Myrmidons – they found only either the infirm, whether they be elderly or disabled in some way, or the very young, babies and small children barely able to walk. Of able-bodied men and women, there were none left in Manjushage.

"Do you think they took them to work?" Jaune suggested.

"To work on what?" Pyrrha asked.

Jaune was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure, but what other explanation is there for why they only took those fit and strong enough to work?"

"I…I don't know," Pyrrha replied, "but I am glad that they spared those who were of no use to them. At least our enemy is not completely devoid of conscience or honour." As one would hope of a former student of Professor Ozpin, however far she has fallen.

By this time, she had returned to the town square, where their airships were landing to take off the young and the old they had recovered from Manjushage and take them to Mistral. They could not stay here, with the only people able to care for the young being those too old and infirm to do so. So they would be flown to the city, under escort, and entrusted to the care of the authorities before the airships came back for the remaining Myrmidons.

Autumn Blaze was talking to those who had yet to be evacuated, while Photo Finish took pictures of all of those fortunate enough to have been spared and unfortunate enough to lose everything in the sparing. Autumn’s next blog would be all about the survivors: who they were, who they’d lost, an appeal for any relatives who had moved away or been out of town when the attack happened to get in touch as quickly as possible. Plus an appeal for any information that might lead to the rescue of all the captive folk of Manjushage and the rapid reunion of all these sundered families.

Swift Foot was amongst those who had remained, waiting until the evacuation was complete, ready in case the grimm showed up; they hadn't yet, but there was no guarantee that their indulgence would last forever. Pyrrha watched her, and as she watched, she sat down at the base of the statue of Manjushage's founder, surrounded by the parts of broken androids, feeling a great sense of disconsolation settle on her. She felt as though she might cry, as though she might be sick; she felt as though her stomach had turned to ice; she felt as though her limbs were so weak and her aura was about to drain away.

"And you can still see nothing?" she asked, her voice forlorn.

"No," Jaune said. "There's no sign of them."

Pyrrha's hands clenched into fists, because besides her sorrow and her shame, she felt such anger towards those who had done this. She wanted to have them within Miló's reach, not to have no clue as to where they had gone.

How could one of Professor Ozpin’s chosen few descend to such barbarity? How could a Maiden, blessed with one of the four magics of Remnant, entrusted with a gift so precious and so vital, abuse both trust and gift to such a wicked purpose?

She not help but wonder, if Ruby and Yang had accepted Raven’s offer to accompany her and join her tribe, if they might not have...have softened her, somehow, and by that softening have prevented this.

Pyrrha shook her head. A foolish thought; as it was no more in Ruby’s nature to throw in her lot with such a woman, so it was probably no more in Raven’s nature to let herself be turned aside from this path of wickedness that she had chosen.

These children who were so very young would grow up orphans. That baby in the cradle she had found would only know one living relative, and that a grandfather too feeble to care for him, condemning him to the orphanage or the foster home, and all Pyrrha could say that she had done was save the boy from the kind of hardscrabble existence that Ren and Nora had enjoyed before they had come to Beacon. Families had been ripped apart, and there seemed little chance of a successful rescue, what with them having no clue where to start looking.

"We failed here, Jaune," Pyrrha whispered, closing her eyes. "I failed."

"This isn't all on you," Jaune insisted forcefully.

"Who else is there?" Pyrrha asked. "It's like Sunset said: there's no one else but me."

"She didn't mean it that way, and Sunset wouldn't want you to use what she'd said to beat yourself up."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't," Pyrrha admitted. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that this kingdom deserves better protection than I can provide."

Jaune was silent for a moment. "You mean…the Council?"

"What other choice do I have?" Pyrrha asked back.

"You..." - Jaune hesitated, obviously remembering who stood in the stables with him - "you know what you are; you’re Pyrrha Nikos. You have all the choices."

Because I am the Maiden of Choice? Pyrrha shook her head. "In a sense, perhaps, but hardly in reality." She paused. "If it is true that I am the reason the Council would not put forth its strength, if fear of me is putting Mistral in danger, then how can I refuse to place myself at the disposal of the Steward?"

"Even with that string attached?" Jaune asked. “What about...your freedom to act?”

"I don't know," admitted Pyrrha. "And if I thought that it would be without troubles, I wouldn't have refused Councillor Ward earlier, but…how can I put my freedom above the good of Mistral, which ought to be the highest good in all the world to all her children?" She sighed and bowed her head, for all that Jaune couldn't see. "This is the Kingdom of Mistral, august and ancient, and I am her champion, her princess without a crown, the last heir to her ancient royal line until…or unless…where does my allegiance lie, if not here? If I would give my life to defend her grace and beauty – and I would – then why should I balk to give my freedom?" She snorted. "I make it sound as though I'm going to prison, like poor Sunset. I mock her sacrifice by the way I speak of my own, but nevertheless…if this is my sacrifice, should I not make it gladly?"

"You never answered my question," Jaune reminded her.

"If need be, I will do the right thing and face the consequences for my actions," Pyrrha replied. "If I must be censured for saving Mistral from a danger it did not know it faced then that is another sacrifice I must be prepared to make."

Jaune was silent on the other end of the line. "Are you asking me what I think, or are you telling me what you're going to do?"

"You disagree with me," Pyrrha said, making a statement, not asking a question, because he wouldn't be hesitating like this if he agreed.

"I think…that perhaps you shouldn't be making this decision when you're upset," Jaune said delicately.

"But if I wait, then the offer may be gone," Pyrrha replied. "Are you with me, Jaune?"

"You don't need to ask me that," Jaune said.

"I know," Pyrrha murmured, "but it's nice to be reassured." She stood up. “Team Prawn,” she called, raising her voice. “To me, if you will.”

They all consented; she did not want to think of them obeying her, rather of them agreeing to do what she would have liked them to do and making their way to join her beneath the shadow of the statue. Ren looked ill, and Nora looked as though she was trying to control her anger at this situation; Arslan seemed less personally affected by it, but her face was stern nonetheless.

“Any thoughts?” Pyrrha asked.

“Jaune has found nothing?” Ren demanded.

“No,” Pyrrha said. “It’s as if they…disappeared.”

“A semblance?” Arslan suggested.

“Possibly,” Pyrrha conceded.

“Hmm,” Arslan murmured. “Perhaps we should be grateful they didn’t murder all the folks they didn’t need.”

“'Grateful'?” Ren snapped. “Grateful to the monsters who did this?”

“Okay, perhaps 'grateful' isn’t the right word,” Arslan said, raising her hands to calm him down. “But…you know what I mean, right? We could have arrived to a town full of corpses not…this.”

“As bad as this is, you are correct,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune believes the townsfolk may have been taken to work; it explains why the young and old and infirm were left behind. They would have been of no use.”

“Nobody likes having useless mouths to feed,” Nora said softly. “But work on what?”

“That is the question, along with ‘where are they now?’” Pyrrha said. “I fear that, ignorant as we are, there is little chance of rescuing these people. Unless any of you disagree?”

Arslan folded her arms. “If they want workers then…they must be building something or digging something or…you know, doing something. They won’t be able to hide that forever. Even if they do have a teleporting semblance, somebody will see what they’re up to, or a captive will escape. Something will slip out. We just have to keep our ears to the ground.”

“It’s a long shot,” Ren muttered.

“Do we have any better shots?” Arslan asked. “At least it’s something.”

Nora nodded glumly. Her voice, too, was glum as she said, “I guess…we can’t win them all, huh?”

“Unfortunately not,” Pyrrha said. “We have all been inspired by the legends of the heroes that came before us. But they were demigods, and we are but men. Which is why, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Swift Foot.”

“Of course,” Ren said. “We’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured as the three of them retreated. She hadn’t asked their opinion on her decision, because she was sure it was the right one. Judging by the way they had all reacted to their collective failure today, she couldn’t imagine that any of them would disagree with her on that. "Swift Foot, may I have a word with you please?"

Swift Foot raised one curious eyebrow, but nevertheless, she sheathed her rhomphaia across her back and made her way towards the statue and to Pyrrha. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," Pyrrha said quickly. "Well…yes, obviously, there is a great deal that is wrong."

"Yes, of course," Swift Foot said. "I meant-"

"I know," Pyrrha replied.

“Is there neither evidence of who did this nor sign of where they went?"

"None that we or Jaune can find," Pyrrha admitted. "We are blind and without a lead."

"Then there is no hope of reuniting these broken families?"

"Not unless something turns up," Pyrrha said, "but that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about."

"No, I suppose not," Swift Foot murmured. "What then?"

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "What is your sister like? Is she a good woman?"

"Which sister?" Swift Foot asked. "I have three."

"Terri-Belle," clarified Pyrrha.

Swift Foot laughed darkly. "It is good that you asked about her, because Shining Light and Blonn Di…you have spared me the need to either lie to you or insult my sisters. But Terri-Belle…she is brave and swift and strong. Clever, too. Of all four of us, the daughters of Diomedes, she is the best in every respect. And…she has always been kind to me, after her fashion. Yes, I would say she is a good woman."

"And she would defend Mistral if she could?"

"If our father allowed it, I believe she would," Swift Foot said. "Like me, she chafes at inactivity. Unlike me, she does not have the disobedient streak required to get her out of the house." She smiled. "But why do you ask? Why are you concerned to know if someone else will protect Mistral?"

Pyrrha did not reply to her directly, but rather said, "Jaune, can you patch me through to everyone?"

"Sure," Jaune said, his voice leaden with resignation. "You're up."

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "My friends and comrades," she said, and she noticed that those with her in the square – like young Cicero – turned to look at her. "Today, I received a visit from our friend and supporter, Councillor Cicero Ward the Elder. He came to see me with a proposal vouchsafed to him by the Steward himself, to take us under his authority and the command of his eldest daughter Terri-Belle as part of the forces of a united Mistral, to go forward and defend this kingdom, our kingdom, together.

"I have given it careful thought, balancing the benefits against the loss to our autonomy of action, and I have decided to accept this proposal for the good of Mistral." She let that sink in for a moment. "I started this and asked you all to fight with me for the good of Mistral. I still believe that it was the right thing to do, but I have come to realise that there is only so much that we can do alone. It is my hope that, together with our new allies, we may achieve a more perfect defence for the people of this kingdom.”

No one replied, but Pyrrha fancied – which might be the correct word in more ways than one, if she turned out to be imagining it – that those listening to her looked approvingly upon her choice. Certainly, young Cicero did so, nodding in vigorous agreement with all that she had said, and Violet looked as if she, too, were glad to hear it. Arslan looked relaxed about the whole thing, and Neptune looked relieved. Those who did not look pleased or glad appeared simply to be nonplussed about the whole thing, as though they didn’t care either way. Nobody looked as though they thought she’d just made a mistake, for which Pyrrha was very thankful. She turned away from them, walking away some little distance. "Jaune, can you put me through to Councillor Ward, please?"

"He’s still here, he just heard you," Jaune said.

“Councillor Ward,” Pyrrha said. “I take it then that you have not yet given the Steward the bad news.”

“I have not,” Councillor Ward replied. “Which means that I may now convey to him instead the good news.”

"You may," Pyrrha declared. "You may tell Lord Thrax that I am at the service of Mistral, and of its Council."

Under New Management

Under New Management

Juturna sat down on the settee next to her brother, her arms folded as she watched their guest walk into the dining hall. Shining Light Thrax, one of the twin middle daughters of the Steward of Mistral, was a lithe and lovely young woman with flowing grey-green hair that curled about her shoulders like ocean waves about to break upon the shore and grey eyes accentuated by the smoky eyeshadow that she wore above them. She wore a white dress of an old-fashioned style, with a loose, low, swooping neckline and a high waist marked by a belt of gold; a ruby brooch worn at her right shoulder kept the whole thing from falling apart, and spindly sandals of spun gold climbed up the long legs that intermittently emerged from underneath her dress as she strutted forwards into their dining hall.

There was a smirk upon her face. Juturna didn’t like it, the face or the smirk. When she had asked Salem for the power to sweep away everyone who stood in the path of her brother’s ascent to power, she had had smirking people like Shining Light particularly in mind.

A quick glance at Turnus told her that her brother did not appreciate the look on Shining Light’s face any more than Juturna did.

Nevertheless, he attempted to keep his tone courteous as he said, “Lady Shining Light, you honour me with your presence.”

Shining Light chuckled. “Thank you for welcoming me, Lord Turnus.” She glanced at Camilla, standing behind the two Rutulians as if she were their bodyguard and not their friend. “Is there any need for the animal to remain? Or are you too afraid to be in the same room as me without protection?”

Oh, no, Juturna thought. Not because she had any objection to Shining Light’s death, but because it might not be exactly the right time to start a civil war; she still hadn’t gotten any practical assistance from Salem, yet.

Turnus didn’t know to expect any, of course, because she hadn’t told him. He just knew that Camilla had been insulted, and so, he got to his feet and activated his semblance.

Juturna went back and forth on her brother’s semblance, because there were times when the ability to alter people’s perceptions of you – to make them see you as much weaker or stronger than you actually were and to inspire either pity or fear in them as a consequence – seemed pretty ineffectual compared to some semblances. On the other hand, there were also times, like now, when watching an already pretty big and strong guy appear to grow several feet taller and bulk out to a truly ridiculous degree in order to terrify someone else was pretty cool.

Turnus grew – appeared to grow – to absurd proportions, his shoulders broadening and his muscles swelling, his height increasing until it looked as though he was going to touch the ceiling with the top of his head. He was himself but he was more of himself, expanded without seeming to change or become someone different from who or what he was before. Shining Light retreated before him as he advanced upon her, the smirk on her face faltering to be replaced by a look of alarm.

“Camilla,” Turnus growled, “is my dear friend and comrade. If you insult her again, I will consider you to have forfeited a guest’s protections under my roof through your misconduct and will defend my friend’s honour appropriately. Do I make myself clear?”

Shining Light let out a kind of mewling sound as she nodded in agreement.

Turnus stared down at her, or seemed to. “An apology would be in order, from a good guest.”

Shining Light inhaled through her nostrils. “I…I apologise…Camilla. Please forgive me.”

“Apology accepted, Lady Shining Light,” Camilla said, softly but managing a quiet dignity in spite of the flush that was currently colouring her cheeks. She didn’t look at the Steward’s daughter. She always seemed so embarrassed whenever Turnus stood up for her.

What are you so ashamed of? This is how he lets you know he cares.

I bet he wouldn’t stand up for Pyrrha Nikos like this; you should remember that and take heart.

Turnus appeared to shrink, returning to his normal – and quite powerful enough for most purposes – size. “Thank you, lady, for your courtesy,” he said, turning around and returning to his seat, crossing the dining hall in quick strides to seat himself once more beside Juturna. “Now,” he continued, “to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Shining Light took a moment to collect herself. She cleared her throat. “My father, the Steward of Mistral,” she added, as if to remind everyone – perhaps even herself – who her father was, “has decided to honour you with an opportunity to be a part of the new Mistralian defence force that is being set up.”

Now it was the turn of Turnus to smirk. “You mean your father wants my help?”

“He does not need it,” Shining Light insisted. “Pyrrha Nikos and Lady Ming have both agreed to place their forces at the disposal of the Council and my father. Your contribution is desired, but not necessary.”

Turnus was still and silent for a moment. “I don’t know what surprises me more,” he confessed. “That Lady Ming has forces to place at the disposal of the Council or that Pyrrha has agreed to do so.”

The smugness returned to Shining Light’s expression. “Lady Ming thought that her civic duty lay in assembling men to fight our enemies and then realised it lay in placing those men under the authority of the rightful…authority.” She rallied quickly after that. “And as for Pyrrha Nikos, she lost a town today-“

“'Lost a town'?” Turnus interrupted. “You mean she was defeated? By what power?”

“You may well ask; it is the question consuming the city,” Shining Light replied. “She was not defeated, though I understand she takes it as a loss, and if the people were to take it so as well, I would not take it amiss. But as I understand, the damage was already done. By the time she arrived, all the able-bodied folk in Manjushage had been spirited away.”

“'Spirited away'?” Camilla repeated. “You mean they had been abducted?”

Shining Light shrugged. “So it seems, but we know not. There is no trace of those who took the people or of the people themselves.”

Juturna frowned. That…if that was Salem’s doing, she had said nothing about it to Juturna, which was just as worrying as the idea that she maybe could do such a thing. The alternative – that there was another beast in the forest – was equally concerning. “Brother, with your leave, I will take some of our technical experts and have them go over Manjushage for any information.” One of the advantages of her brother’s fondness for all things Atlesian was that he was a patron of the sciences, moreso than most Mistralian families, and even employed a few. Mostly, they spent their time tinkering with weapons and engines, but they had skills that could be put to other uses.

Turnus looked at her. “This concerns you so much?”

Yes, I’m the only one who should be having secret plans in this country. “The mystery intrigues me,” Juturna replied.

Turnus nodded. “Very well.”

“I’ll go with you,” Camilla added.

“That’s sweet, but not necessary,” Juturna told her quickly.

“Yes,” Turnus declared, in a voice that brooked no argument. “It is. Faced with this power of which we know so little, I would have you well-protected.” He paused, looking at Camilla. “I would have you both well-protected. I will accompany the pair of you.”

Juturna began. “There really is no need for-”

“As I am master of this house and head of this family, so need takes second place to my desires. If there is some force abroad that can whisk away whole towns of able-bodied men and women, then I will not have you face it without me.”

Juturna smirked. “Because you’re so confident you can resist it?”

“Because I would rather share your fate than live apart from you,” Turnus said, quietly but no less firmly for it.

Juturna stared at him wordlessly. You know, it’s the way you come out with things like that that makes me want to burn down the whole world for you if I had to.

A quick glance at Camilla told her that the other girl was about ready to melt. See, I told you he cared.

Turnus looked a little embarrassed by the sudden silence and turned his attention back to Shining Light with a clearing of his throat. “Forgive us, Lady Shining Light, you were saying?”

“Thank you,” Shining Light said, through slightly gritted teeth. “Pyrrha Nikos lost a town,” she repeated smugly, “and felt guilty that she hadn’t done all she could to help the poor people of this kingdom. Soon, the folk of Mistral will know who it is that defends them against their enemies.”

Juturna laughed. “The same person who was defending them before, just with your father trying to take a share of the credit. If he, or you, think that people are going to be fooled by that, you’re kidding yourselves.” Just because she was – theoretically, at least – taking orders from the Council and the Steward didn’t mean that people were suddenly going to stop worshipping at the feet of Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown. She’d been famous and beloved before this crisis, and she would remain so after it; it was impossible for Juturna to conceive of a situation in which she didn’t come out of all this with her reputation enhanced.

That was what made it so awkward that Pyrrha seemed to be determined to oppose her. Juturna didn’t agree with Turnus that he needed a "royal" marriage in order to legitimise his desired takeover of power in Mistral, but he did need Pyrrha’s consent, or at the very least her silence. If she raised her voice against him, then it would be a total non-starter.

In which case, she would have to be got rid of like all the rest. Juturna would rather that it didn’t come to that – she had no personal cause to dislike Pyrrha; in fact, she wished her all the best – but the attitude that she’d displayed towards Salem seemed to be making it likely. Juturna couldn’t let Pyrrha stand in her way.

Shining Light snorted. “People will no longer be able to say that the Council isn’t doing anything once it starts sending out huntsmen to defend the villages, and that’s all that matters!” she snapped defensively. “The question is whether you want to be the only lord in this city who isn’t contributing to the defence of the kingdom?”

“What are your terms?” Turnus asked.

“You will have to follow the commands of my sister Terri-Belle, to stay or to go as she bids you,” Shining Light said. “Other than that…once she has committed you to battle, you may lead your forces as you see fit.”

“Then they would remain my forces?”

“Of course,” Shining Light said. “Under the new Captain-General.”

“Of course,” Turnus repeated. He was silent for a moment. “Thank you for bringing me this message, Lady Shining Light; you may be assured I will consider it carefully, if you will so kindly wait outside.”

Shining Light hesitated a moment, but then nodded and retreated out of the dining hall. Only once the great oak doors had closed behind her did Turnus let the scowl show on his face.

“I have been out-manouvred,” he confessed.

“How so?” Camilla asked.

“Because I’ve been left with no choice,” Turnus declared. “That woman is correct; if I do not join the league now, I will be the odd one out, the only one who is not stepping forward to fight for Mistral when she is in need. When Pyrrha fought and the Council did not, that was one thing, but this…it will be the death of all my ambitions. Besides which, if I do not join, then there will be the votes in Council to remove Lionheart from his position and his seat, and we shall be blind and without influence. Yes, the Steward has got me where he wants me for now. I should have given the old man more credit.”

“So…what?” Juturna asked. “You’re going to agree to all this?”

“I haven’t much choice at the moment, have I?” Turnus growled.

“For my part, I am glad,” Camilla murmured tremulously. “I know that this isn’t what you wanted, but all the same…I’m glad. It…it has troubled me to sit here in this house, knowing that evil stalked abroad in the land of Mistral while we raised neither sword nor bow nor gun in opposition to it.”

“You never said anything,” Juturna pointed out.

Camilla bowed her head. “It…it was not my place.”

“Camilla,” Turnus said reproachfully, “you are…you’re like my other sister, for crying out loud, you can tell me anything, you know that!”

Great job, bro; I get what you mean, but did you really have to say it just like that?

Camilla’s face reddened. “I…I will try to keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Turnus said. “Because in this case…you chide me well. Instead of waiting for the Council to discredit itself, I should have sought to enhance my own credit by joining with Pyrrha. She might have looked more favourably upon me if I had. Too late now.”

“So that’s it?” Juturna demanded. “You’re just going to roll over now and become the Council’s loyal little dog?”

“I did not say that,” Turnus said calmly, “but I must seem to be, for now, until a new opportunity arises.”

Juturna thought for a moment. “What if…what if it’s already here?”

Turnus’ eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“I…” Juturna trailed off momentarily as she gathered up her thoughts. “I’ve got an idea,” she said, “for another way in which the Kingdom of Mistral can put its bandit problems behind it. And raise a new army. An experienced army, a powerful army if this stuff about Manjushage means anything, one large enough and seasoned enough to go to war in future, even against Vale.”

“Go on,” Turnus urged. “I’m listening.”

“I remember when we were here last,” Jaune murmured, as he and Pyrrha were led down the corridors of the palace of Mistral, the former home of the Nikos family and now the seat of Steward and Council, and also, from today, the headquarters of the new Common Army and its Captain-General. Mid-morning light poured in through the windows set high up in the tall walls of the corridor to fall upon the crimson walls and the porphyry statues of the ancient emperors that lined the way. “That party, during spring break. The first time we met Cinder.”

“Yes, I remember,” Pyrrha said softly as their footfalls echoed down the corridors lavishly decorated with ancient tapestries, and paintings whose value equalled their antiquity. “You didn’t have a very good time.”

“I prefer to focus on the positive,” Jaune replied. “Like the fact that was the night when…”

Pyrrha looked at him curiously. “That was then night when...?”

Jaune smiled at her, a smile every bit as radiant as the sun. “That was the night when I think I first started falling for you.”

Pyrrha…what was she supposed to say to that? What was she supposed to do but hold out her hand to him and, when he took it, draw him in for a kiss in spite of whoever might be watching them or waiting for them? Let the Captain-General wait for just a moment more. “If I ever forget how fortunate I am-“ she began.

“Never gonna happen,” Jaune said, before she could even finish.

The smile remained on Pyrrha’s face, even as she took a step back away from him. She kept a hold onto his hand, squeezing it as though he might disappear the moment she let go. He was wearing his armour today, for the way it looked, to meet with their new commander, and Pyrrha had to say that he still looked very dashing in it, her gallant knight. It was a pity that his skills didn’t give him occasion to wear it more often.

“Am I doing the right thing?” she asked.

Jaune didn’t reply right away, which was an answer in and of itself. “You’re doing what you think is best,” he said diplomatically.

“But you don’t agree with me,” Pyrrha whispered.

“I think…” Jaune trailed off, hesitating. “I think we’ll see how this goes,” he finished, which wasn’t much of an answer at all but at the same time was probably the best answer, considering that only the future would really tell whether Pyrrha had done well or ill with her decision to submit to the Council. Beyond that, they were both just speculating on what might happen next.

“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “We will.” She paused a moment. “We should probably get going,” she added, with a glance towards the servant who had been patiently waiting for them up ahead for some little time now.

Jaune chuckled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s probably a good idea.”

The footman said nothing as they indicated that they were ready to follow him again, but he didn’t have to say anything for them to guess what he was thinking, and so she apologised to him for the delay as he resumed leading them through the corridors, beneath the paintings and past the antique vases and sculptures, until they were brought into a large rectangular chamber dominated by an equally large table upon which had been spread a detailed map of Anima, with all the settlements great and small marked out upon it, from Mistral and Argus to little villages like Leuctris, all of them populating the chart just as they populated the world outside the chamber.

Besides the table and the map that lay upon it, there was little to be said of this room; the gilded walls were bare on three sides, but upon the western wall hung a painting depicting General Lagune refusing a horse to escape the defeat at Fort Castle. Though Porcius Vasilias had bidden the general take his mount and escape, Lagune had resolved to remain on the field and share in the fate of his infantry and had ordered the young man to ride to Mistral and warn the city that the army was lost. As a story of a certain kind of courage and nobility, it was not without value, she supposed, but nevertheless, as Pyrrha looked upon the image, complete with a great army being massacred all around the noble general, Pyrrha hoped that it wasn’t any kind of omen for the results of their enterprise.

They were alone in here, the first to arrive. Not even their Captain-General was here yet, which made Pyrrha feel a little less guilty about the kiss.

“So,” Jaune said, “who else is supposed to be coming?”

“Everyone, I think,” Pyrrha said. “The invitation said it was to be a briefing on the approach going forward.” That was one of the reasons she had brought Jaune; it would have been silly not to have brought her strategist to a discussion of strategy. “I can’t believe that we’re the only ones who accepted.”

“Perhaps the new commander wants to meet us one at a time,” Jaune suggested. “Keep us off balance, easier to deal with, that kind of thing. Or they’re just late.”

“Or we’re early,” Pyrrha replied. “Too early even for Terri-Belle.”

“Do you know her?”

“Mostly by reputation,” Pyrrha said. “We’ve met, after a fashion, but she is a few years older than I am, and she was never a tournament fighter, so our paths rarely crossed. It is quite a reputation, though. She was top of her class at Haven, and she almost won the Vytal Festival in her third year.”

“Thank you for that almost, Pyrrha Nikos,” growled Terri-Belle as she strode into the chamber by the opposite entrance to that which had admitted Pyrrha and Jaune. She was armoured for battle, even as Pyrrha and Jaune were, but just like them, she wore no visible weapons. She was accompanied by one of her sisters, Pyrrha wasn’t able to tell them apart, armoured similarly to Terri-Belle and Swift Foot in a linothorax cuirass and pteruges.

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “I meant no offence, I simply-“

“Pointed out the fact that I lost,” Terri-Belle said, cutting her off. “I know. In my defence, that Atlesian was quite the fighter; I am continually amazed that I haven’t heard more of her since.”

Her sister snorted. “Would it have soothed your pride if she had gone on to achieve great fame?”

“Of course it would,” Terri-Belle replied, as though that was a ridiculous question. “When one is defeated, it is always less shameful for the defeat to be at the hands of one who is or who becomes renowned for their skill, rather than one who sinks into anonymity like a stone tossed into the water.”

“It may be so in Mistral,” Pyrrha pointed out, “but in Atlas, they do things differently. I have not heard the name Robyn Hill since she…since her tournament triumph, but I am sure that she is a diligent and well-respected servant of her own kingdom.”

“Hmm, it may be as you say,” Terri-Belle conceded. “The northerners, as you remind me, do things differently.” She glanced at her sister. “This is my sister, Shining Light; from now on, she will succeed me as captain of the Imperial Guard and leader of the Council’s huntsmen.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. She inclined her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you. This is Jaune Arc, our strategist.”

“And your fiancé, as I understand it,” Shining Light said, a smile playing across her lips.

Pyrrha felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. “Well, yes, that too.”

“I don’t need a strategist,” Terri-Belle declared brusquely, as she walked across the other side of the table from that on which Pyrrha and Jaune stood. “Unlike either of you, I completed my four years of study, and I have not been idle since. I know how to defeat the grimm well enough without your counsel. But I hear that you do have a good set-up for receiving word of an attack in progress; I might like to borrow it.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “We are at the disposal of Mistral, after all.”

Terri-Belle stared into Pyrrha’s eyes. “Yes, you are, aren’t you?” she said softly. “You’ll have to show me what you’ve got. And don’t worry about defences and the like; from now on, Mistral will pay for everything. The highest duty of the kingdom is to defend the people living in it, no?”

I’m glad the Council finally agrees, Pyrrha thought. It would have been too vulgar to have broached the question of money herself, but now that Terri-Belle had brought it up, she found herself relieved by the answer that she had gotten.

Terri-Belle leaned forward, resting her hands upon the map of Mistral, her eyes still fixed on Pyrrha. “So,” she murmured, “you are the one that Swift Foot ran off to.”

“Swift Foot came to me to help serve Mistral,” Pyrrha replied calmly. “If you want her back, you should probably ask her yourself.”

Terri-Belle’s mouth twitched. “I’d like my horn back,” she said. “As for Swift Foot…she’s my little sister, but she’s big enough to do as she likes. Although…there is a certain irony in the fact that if she’d waited a couple of days longer, she wouldn’t have had to run away from home to protect this kingdom.”

“I…suppose so,” Pyrrha said. “But nobody could have predicted at the time that the Council would so swiftly begin to do its duty.”

Terri-Belle continued to stare up into Pyrrha’s eyes, her hair like the crest of a helmet rising above her head. “You must think me incredibly callous, mustn’t you?”

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment, considering her response. From the way that Terri-Belle was looking at her, she judged that the latter would appreciate honesty more than a kindly lie. “I cannot help but be disappointed that so many did nothing when Mistral cried out for aid.”

“You’re impertinent,“ Shining Light snapped.

“No, she is not,” Terri-Belle said calmly. The Captain-General of Mistral straightened up. “She is proud, and she has reason to be proud. Even before Vale erupted into flames and the world began to change, your defeat of the karkadann alone was worthy of praise. My sisters and I were away, dealing with a grimm sighting near Higanbana; thank you, for protecting Mistral then in my absence.”

“I did what any daughter of Mistral would have done,” Pyrrha said.

“But any daughter of Mistral did not do it; you did,” Terri-Belle replied. “What you have done and what you are alike both make you first citizen.”

“I would not go so far,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Modesty may be a virtue in Vale or Atlas, but here in Mistral, there is no need to hide your light,” Terri-Belle rebuked. “I was Haven’s hope once, but I’ve seen you fight: I was never that fast, and I never had your invaluable semblance.” Her expression hardened. “But do not make the mistake of thinking that you are the only one who cares for Mistral. This is my kingdom as much as it is yours. You may be the Princess Without a Crown, but I am the heir to the Stewardship of Mistral. And I will defend it. I have always been willing to defend it.”

“You simply feared me more than you feared the grimm or bandits outside the walls,” Pyrrha said softly.

Terri-Belle did not seem ashamed to admit the fact. “Did your Beacon history classes teach you what General Lagune said to Councillor Lividus as his army marched out on the long road to Fort Castle?”

“No,” Pyrrha conceded. “But I have read Virgil just as you have, and I know that, when Lividus advised him against meeting the faunus in pitched battle, Lagune replied that he was more afraid of the votes of the citizens than the weapons of the enemy.” She paused. “He paid the price for his misplaced priorities, and so did his soldiers.”

Terri-Belle chuckled. “But the fact remains: we always fear the enemies within the walls so much more than those without them.”

“I have never been your enemy,” Pyrrha said.

Terri-Belle did not reply, although whether that was because she had no reply to make or because she had words she was not given time to say, Pyrrha could not make out, because at that moment, Turnus arrived. He came in the same way that Pyrrha and Jaune had used a little while before, accompanied by his battle-companion Camilla. Turnus was dressed in the body armour of an Atlesian soldier, save that it was painted in a bronze colour rather than the white that actual soldiers of Atlas were wont to wear. Camilla was more traditionally attired, in a cuirass of brown leather with studded pteruges worn over a red blouse and combat skirt, with vambraces of dark leather on her wrists and forearms.

“Everyone is bringing an entourage today,” Terri-Belle muttered.

“If we are late, then I-” Turnus began, coming to a stop at the sight of Jaune standing at Pyrrha’s side. A growl escaped his throat. “You,” he snarled.

Pyrrha sucked in her breath. “Greetings, Turnus,” she said mildly. “Allow me to present my betrothed, Jaune Arc. Jaune, this is Turnus Rutulus, whom I have mentioned to you.”

Jaune tensed noticeably. He bowed, but only very slightly. “It is an honour to meet you,” he said, without much conviction.

“Likewise,” Turnus replied, without bowing and without making his statement sound any more convincing than Jaune had managed. It was with a sense of aggrieved obligation that he added, “This is Camilla Volsci, my dear friend and right hand in battle.”

And how much do you know about what Juturna has been doing? Pyrrha couldn’t help but wonder. Does the name Salem mean anything to you? Camilla did not strike her as the type to betray Mistral, but then…but then, Pyrrha might have said the same about Juturna too.

I suppose I can understand what Terri-Belle meant about the enemies within the walls.

Camilla offered a fuller bow to Pyrrha. “Pyrrha Nikos,” she said in a voice as mild as morning dew. “Congratulations upon your forthcoming nuptials.”

“Thank you, Camilla,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Have you decided-?“

“Have you come to offer congratulations to the happy couple or to help plan the defence of Mistral?” demanded Terri-Belle impatiently.

Turnus laid his fists upon the map of Mistral, or more accurately of the ocean that surrounded it. “I have come because my presence was requested.”

“You have placed Rutulian Security at the service of the Council too?” Pyrrha asked.

“I have,” Turnus said. “You convinced me, Pyrrha, that it was my duty to do whatever was in my power to protect our kingdom from its enemies.”

“And Lionheart will keep his seat upon the Council,” Pyrrha said sharply.

Turnus shrugged, as though the matter was of no concern to him whatsoever.

So much for that benefit.

“For now,” Terri-Belle said.

Turnus looked at her, a slight frown appearing on his face. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“Lionheart will retain his seat upon the council for now,” Terri-Belle repeated.

Turnus inhaled angrily through his nostrils. “I was given to understand-”

“Then let me give you something else to understand,” Terri-Belle cut him off sharply. “I do not like that Lionheart retains his seat on the Council. I don’t like the fact that someone who was involved with the White Fang, someone who was involved in severing the thread of a family as old as any in Mistral, someone who had a hand in all our present troubles still has a say in the affairs of this Kingdom, and if I could prove it, then I would be banging on your gate demanding that you hand him over to my father’s justice. Be assured, my lord, that the question of Lionheart’s status is settled only until we have more information on the status of Cinder Fall and her insurrectionist associates.”

“Cinder Fall,” Turnus repeated. “I know nothing of this.”

“Something else Juturna didn’t mention to you?” Pyrrha couldn’t resist saying.

He looked at her, and the glare in his eyes was diminished by the degree of confusion. “No,” he said. “She did not. But neither did you.”

“No, and I am sorry for that,” Pyrrha replied. “Everything in your house happened so quickly.”

Turnus huffed. “Something else to speak to her about,” he muttered.

“In any event, once our last- ah, there you are,” Terri-Belle said, as Kurt the White Wolf came in, looking a little shame-faced at her tardiness as she sidled into a position between Pyrrha and Turnus.

“I had a little trouble convincing the guards at the door to let me in,” Kurt complained.

“I will speak to them about it,” Terri-Belle assured her. “In any event: thank you all for coming. Together, we represent all the significant armed forces in Mistral aside from the Iron Grenadiers, and with our combined strength, I believe that we should be a match for them if they seek to cause us any difficulties.

“This is not the first attempt in recent memory to forge a new defence force for Mistral,” Terri-Belle continued, “but our previous attempt focussed on quantity over quality, forgetting that six thousand grains of sand are still just grains of sand to be blown away when the wind picks up. The forces at our disposal are fewer in number, and fewer still thanks to the recent losses of huntsmen that have been sustained in this kingdom, but we are far more skilled than our forces were at the Battle of Vale, and what we lack in numbers, we make up for in valour, in the quality of our weapons, and the skill with which we wield them.

“Pyrrha has already shown that it is possible for a small company of elites to achieve great results in protecting the outlying towns and villages in our kingdom, and by joining the Imperial Guard, the Council’s huntsmen, Rutulian Security and…do you want to choose a name for your band?”

Kurt considered for a moment. “How about the Company of the Wolf? That sounds cool.”

“Hmm,” Terri-Belle said. “As I said, by joining all our forces together, we will be able to throw our arms around Mistral’s settlements and keep them safe from the grimm.”

“What are we going to do about range?” Jaune asked.

“'Range'?” Terri-Belle repeated.

“The big limitation on our operations was flying range from Mistral,” Jaune explained. “We could only cover places within range of Mistral itself.”

Turnus smiled, though what he was smiling at, Pyrrha couldn’t say.

“That has been considered,” Terri-Belle said. “The reason I was later than you was that I was waiting for the result of three votes in the Council. The first, to authorise the deployment of the Imperial Guard beyond the city limits to protect the territories, was passed unanimously. The second, to create a unified defence force under my command, was also passed unanimously. The third vote…” Terri-Belle’s jaw clenched just a little before she said, “The third vote authorised the granting of full pardons to bandit chieftains and their followers who request them, and furthermore, the issuing to said chieftains the rights to administer certain territories and to enjoy a proportion of the tax revenue from those territories in return for assuming responsibility for their protection against the grimm.”

Pyrrha was stunned into silence for a moment. “You…the Council has voted to recruit bandits to administer our territory?”

“It solves the problem that you just raised,” Terri-Belle said. “We will protect the inner territories closest to the city, while delegating the defence of the harder to reach areas to armed and experienced fighters. Plus, as I believe you found out yesterday, some of these bandits are…worryingly powerful.” She paused. “That is, if it really was bandits who attacked Manjushage.”

Jaune frowned. “Who else could it have been except bandits?”

Terri-Belle shrugged. “Some fools, a great many of your supporters seemingly among them, are labouring under the delusion that I led the attack in order to force your hand in this alliance.”

If you had that sort of power at your disposal all along, you would not have feared me, Pyrrha thought. “I will...make a statement rebuking such irresponsible speculation.”

“Thank you,” Terri-Belle grunted. “And then there are some who suggest Atlesian involvement.”

“Oh, come on!” Jaune snapped. “Even for people who are looking for reasons to start trouble with Atlas, that's a reach. Atlas doesn’t do that kind of thing.”

“Those blasts could easily have come from Atlesian energy weapons,” Shining Light declared.

“Or MARS weapons,” Jaune countered. “Not to mention all the Atlesian hardware abandoned when they withdrew.”

“Atlas does not behave in such a fashion,” Pyrrha insisted, her outrage at this bandit decision momentarily derailed by her sense of obligation to her Atlesian friends. “Though their notion of honour is not as ours, nevertheless, they are an honourable people, after their own fashion.”

Shining Light smirked. “You sound like almost as much of a fan as Turnus.”

“And you sound like a fool if you believe that Atlas is responsible for our new troubles,” Turnus declared. “Certainly, no one of sense would do so. Pyrrha speaks true; this is not Atlesian work.”

“Probably not,” Terri-Belle agreed. “But it is a notion being bruited about, and we cannot ignore that fact. However, if you are correct, and that was the work of bandits, then it only goes to show how powerful some of these groups can be. These are no mere raiders to be chased off with a show of force. Rather than stand against them, it may be for the best to bring them into the fold as loyal friends and allies of Mistral.”

“What about Argus?” Jaune demanded. “Is that included in this deal as well?”

“Of course not,” Turnus said scornfully. “I have had no word of any attacks on Argus from grimm or brigands. In addition, as I understand it, Atlas has reinforced the defences with the Fifteenth Battalion and the cruisers Dauntless and Daring; it is the only significant deployment remaining outside of Solitas.”

“You’re very well informed about what’s going on in Argus and Atlas,” Jaune observed.

Turnus smirked. “I am not without friends in the north, and things that pass there are not unknown to me, though the eyes of Haven Tower be blind.”

“Anything else that you’d like to share?” Terri-Belle demanded.

Turnus was silent for a moment. “No, I don’t believe so,” he said. “Nothing relevant.” His smirk broadened. “Especially as I think Pyrrha might have a few more objections to make.”

“I…I cannot believe that I am the only one who finds this objectionable” Pyrrha exclaimed. “Bandits? Scum and criminals?”

“Who wish to reform themselves and live more law-abiding lives,” Turnus said. “Plus, by enlisting them, we will not only have the core of elites that Lady Terri-Belle speaks of but also numbers of somewhat skilled fighting men and women whom Mistral…may have need of in the future.”

“If Mistral has need of brigands, then woe to Mistral,” Pyrrha declared.

“This is not a debate,” Terri-Belle said sharply. “Nor am I here asking your permission, though you be Pyrrha Nikos. This is not a democracy.”

In spite of the circumstances, Pyrrha couldn’t help but smile. “This is an autocracy, and the tyrant is you.” Sadly, Sunset was easier to trust than you are, for the moment at least.

“If you wish to see it so,” Terri-Belle replied. “Though I would say that I am a servant of the Council, and the Council has voted four votes to one in favour of this measure which Lord Turnus proposed.”

“This was your idea?” Pyrrha demanded. “You thought that we should throw our kingdom to the mercy of literal robber barons?”

“Large parts of the kingdom are already at their mercy, those vast swathes of our territory which you and your shining spears do not defend,” Turnus replied. “This legitimises it and, in so doing, may temper their offences. And besides, and as I said, we may have need of such men and women in the days ahead.”

“To what end?” Pyrrha asked.

Turnus did not reply; instead, it was Kurt who growled, “Has anybody asked the people who live out in the sticks whether they want to be handed over to some stinking bandit to be their lord, or did you just decide to screw them over because it was easier?”

“The bandit tribes are as well placed to protect the territory-“ Terri-Belle began.

“With all due respect, my lady, if I had a lien for every time whatever crook or gangster was shaking down the neighbourhood for ‘protection money’ this week actually protected the neighbourhood, I’d still have needed to become a tournament fighter, because it never happened,” Kurt spat. “The only thing they might protect these villages from is their own worst instincts, and that’s a maybe.” She glanced at Pyrrha and Jaune. “Ask Arslan what I’m talking about; she’ll back me up.”

“I’ve no doubt,” Pyrrha murmured. She didn’t have any personal experiences of growing up ruled by the whims of the criminals who wielded so much power in Mistral’s lower levels, but she didn’t think she needed it to understand that asking the wolves to guard the flock was a spectacularly bad idea.

And yet it seemed that there was nothing to be done about it now. The votes were in, the decision had been made, and this was not a democracy. They could complain until they ran out of breath, but they had no power to compel Terri-Belle to change her mind, let alone her father and the council.

“It is too late,” Terri-Belle declared. “The Council has decided to eliminate its bandit problem in one fell stroke, and in the process eliminate our difficulties with the vast scope of our territory. If there are any other ideas for how we could have protected our more far-flung settlements, I would love to hear them.”

“You just said it was a bit late,” Jaune reminded her.

Terri-Belle glared at him. “I am aware…” she sighed and scratched her forehead just above her brow-guard. “I do not like this any more than many of you. Yes, these people are scum and worse and to recruit them as auxiliaries is such a stain upon the honour of a great kingdom that I was astonished that Lord Rutulus suggested the idea.” Turnus shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. Terri-Belle continued, “But when he did propose it, I had no other answer for how we could defend the territory. It is too large, and our huntsmen are too few. It is this or leave them to the mercy of bandits and grimm alike.”

“And if they prove to be…” Pyrrha hesitated, choosing her words with care, “...less than lordly in their rule?”

“Then once the threat of the grimm to the heartlands has passed, we will clean house,” Terri-Belle said bluntly, “and those who have abused our trust will feel the wrath of Mistral fall upon them. There is no need for a man to deal honourably with a beast. In any case, I am not minded to discuss this further. The matter is concluded, in as much as I called you here to discuss it at all, which I did not. I repeat: you are not here to debate policy with me, but to receive your instructions for the defence of our kingdom.”

For those parts of it that remain ours, Pyrrha thought.

“Lord Rutulus,” Terri-Belle said. “You have the largest force, but most of it is untrained in aura and equipped only in a rather basic fashion, is that not so?”

Turnus looked a little put out at hearing his force described that way, but he was forced to concede the point. “Leaving aside those men already engaged by my pre-existing clients, I command three hundred men organised in the fashion of an Atlesian infantry battalion: three seventy-man line companies, a military huntsman company of fifty men with aura unlocked, a ten-strong mechanised platoon – also with their auras unlocked – and thirty true huntsmen.”

Shining Light sniffed. “You’re such an Atlas fanboy, aren’t you?”

Turnus drew in a sharp intake of breath. “I admire a kingdom that has shown that it has much to be admired.”

Yet without understanding what it is that makes it truly admirable, Pyrrha thought, and a quick glance at Jaune showed that he was thinking the same thing.

“We’ve attempted to model our forces on the power of Atlas once before; it did not work so well,” Terri-Belle said. “That is why we are not repeating the mistake now. However, the size of your forces does make them an asset: what is the smallest unit size in which your line companies are trained to operate?”

“A seven-man squad,” Turnus said.

Terri-Belle nodded. “Then I will provide you with a list of towns and large villages and have you deploy a squad to each of them, to provide a bump in the road in case of attack until our main forces can be mobilised. I will also provide a second, smaller, list of the most substantial settlements, and I expect a military huntsman deployment to each of them. You may keep your huntsmen and your mechanised unit as a flying column alongside the Myrmidons, the Guard, and the…Company of the Wolf.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. Terri-Belle’s decision made sense, but at the same time, she could not avoid the sense that it was a decision made in part to reduce the power of Turnus by forcing him to disperse the greater part of his strength across the breadth of the territory, even if he did retain his most skilled fighters close at hand.

Judging by his expression, Turnus felt the same way; it was Camilla who bowed her head and said, “It will be done.”

“Of course it will,” Terri-Belle said. “I’m going to inspect the Myrmidons’ setup with an eye to duplicating it, but however a distress call comes in, whichever of you receives it, you will pass it on to me or to one of my sisters deputised to act in my absence, and I will decide who will respond.”

“And once the battle is joined?” Camilla asked. “What then? Will we be directed by you?”

“Once the battle is joined, you may do whatever it takes to win it however you please, remembering that our goal is to protect the settlements as intact as possible.” Terri-Belle said.

“And until then, we are on permanent stand-by, waiting for your orders,” Camilla said softly.

“Not quite permanent,” Terri-Belle replied. “For the next couple of days, barring a sudden rash of simultaneous attacks, the Imperial Guard will take care of any incidents that come in. We will…make up for our earlier inaction now.” She looked at Jaune and Pyrrha. “So take the night off. Celebrate your engagement. Rest easy, knowing that Mistral is safe under my protection.”

The parts of it that haven’t been given over to bandits.

“But first,” Terri-Belle continued, “come with me.” She turned away, trusting them to follow, and in fairness, the five of them did follow, with Shining Light trailing at the rear as they were brought through corridors that alternated between being dark and brightly lit, until at last they passed beneath two enormous statues of a pair of equine grimm screaming out in rage and a desire for suffering, to stand before the Steward of Mistral, Lord Diomedes, where he sat upon the Steward’s chair with spears hedged all about him.

He stared at them, or it might be more accurate to say he glared at them from out beneath his bushy brows.

“I will not make you huntsmen,” he declared. “Those of you who wish the honour…when this present crisis ends, it seems to me that you could do with a few more years in school to season you and teach you more about the ways of the world. But, at present, Mistral has need of your courage and your skill. Kneel then and say after me.”

As one, the five of them – the Steward’s own daughters did not join them – knelt on the floor before the Steward of Mistral, and Pyrrha repeated after him. “I, Pyrrha of the House of Nikos, pledge my fealty and service to the Lord and Steward of Mistral, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or in plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this day hence until my lord release me or death take me or the world end. My strength is yours, and thine honour be mine.”

As your ancestors once knelt to mine, so do I kneel to you, and thus, the world turns, Pyrrha thought, as she felt the weight of her oath settle upon her shoulders like a heavy cloak. There was no turning back now. She had pledged her honour into the service of the Steward. From this day on, she was committed, however much or little she might like the fact or, indeed, what it led to. She had pledged her faith and fealty, to whatever end.

“Humbly I accept thy strength and vow to spend it wisely. Graciously, I cloak you in mine honour and vow to burnish it with the deeds that I shall do and shall demand of thee. I, Diomedes of the House Thrax, Lord of Mistral, Steward of the Emperor, hear thy words and shall not forget, nor fail to reward that which is given: valour with honour, loyalty with loyalty, obedience with love, oath-breaking with vengeance.” He paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping across them. “I accept you all into my service.”

Pyrrha had been gratified by the way in which her comrades – upon being informed of her decision to subordinate them to the authority of the Council – had accepted her decision with equanimity.

Upon returning home to inform the Myrmidons of what the new order would involve, she discovered that that equanimity had its limitations.

"Bandits," Arslan repeated as she stood in the great hall with her arms folded across her chest, spitting the word as if she was expelling phlegm up from her throat. "The Council…they're going to hand over the outer territories to bandits? What next, are we going to abolish the police and invite the crooks to become cops?"

Pyrrha sighed. "I understand that this-"

"No," Arslan said sharply, "you don't. You might think that you do, but you don't."

"I know that I don't agree with this any more than you do," Pyrrha insisted.

Arslan's expression, which had been stony-faced until a moment ago, softened. "Yeah, I know," she said, "but that doesn't mean that you get why it's so bad."

"Is it?" Cicero asked. "We don't have the range to protect the outlying regions; we haven't even tried to do so. It seems as though the Council is finally pulling together to act in the best interests of the kingdom-"

"Best interests of which part of the kingdom?" Arslan demanded. "It gets the Council off the hook for protecting the length and breadth of the country, sure, but if you expect these people to actually hold up their end of the bargain, then it's only because you've always lived too high up on the hillside to live under a racket."

"Then what's the alternative?" Cicero questioned. "What should the Council be doing instead to defend those places too far out from Mistral for us to reach?"

Arslan scowled. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I know this isn't it."

The Myrmidons were gathered in the great hall of the Nikos house, clumped together in a mass, some of them sitting on the chairs or tables, others standing.

Oceana rose heavily to her feet, looming slightly in her armour. "Speaking as someone who grew up in one of these villages that the Council is going to hand over to these scum, I don't like it either. Sure, we can't protect them easily - they're too far out - but folks there live with the threats of grimm and bandits hovering over them every single day, and they've either learned a little about how to deal with both by now, or they haven't survived. Only now, the Council is telling them that they cannot fight back because the outlaws are the law now. Is that just? Does that sound right to everybody else?"

"Nah," Sun said, with a shake of his head. "If Vacuo teaches you anything, it’s that folks can survive a lot if you just leave them to it, even the grimm, but letting crooks shake them down for protection, it just feels wrong, you know."

"It doesn't sound right," Metella murmured from where she sat in Oceana's shadow, "but it sounds as though it might be sensible."

Oceana looked at her in disbelief. "'Sensible'?"

"I was born in one of those villages that didn't survive long enough to learn how to deal with bandits," Metella declared. "Valorising frontier spirit or talking about right and wrong isn't going to save anybody. We all saw what happened at Manjushage: a well-defended town, and yet, they somehow managed to carry away the population before we could get there. How many Manjushages have there been further away from Mistral that we don't know about? If this can tame the wolves, even a little, then it will be worth it. That said," she turned her gaze towards Terri-Belle, who stood at the back of the hall close to the door, not drawing attention to herself, "if those responsible for yesterday's attack come forward, they will be required to release their captives, won't they?"

"Of course," Terri-Belle replied. "This is a pardon, not a license."

"We all want to trust the Council," Violet said. "We all want to trust the system. But certain…recent behaviour by the Council has made that a little difficult for some of us."

"This is not a question of trust," Pyrrha said. "This is a question of need. The truth is that we were defeated at Manjushage."

"We moved as quickly as we could," Neptune said.

"And General Lagune did the best he could with an inexperienced army and a public that wanted swift victory, but it doesn't change the fact that Fort Castle was a disaster," Pyrrha replied, anguish lending her tone a touch of sharpness. "Our good intentions will not return the people of that town to their families, will not reunite them with their children or their aged parents." She closed her eyes. "Your valour and resolve fighting alongside me has been extraordinary. I am so proud to fight with you, and I hope that we will continue to fight together for as long as there is a need to fight this way, but yesterday's failure made clear to me that we cannot protect Mistral alone. It was…arrogant of me to think that we could. We need support that only the Council can provide…and we need allies. I don't care for these particular allies," she added, "but I accept that…our councillors are doing what they think is best for Mistral." That was not entirely true – she did not believe it of Lionheart for a moment – but it was true of the rest, or at least, she hoped it was.

"And if the bandits fail to live up to their end of the bargain?" Ren asked. "If they abuse our trust?"

"Then we will fall upon them," Pyrrha declared, "and give them cause to regret it."

Ren looked her in the eye and nodded.

Her mother cleared her throat before she spoke, and when she spoke – though she spoke from the rear of the hall – her voice filled up the space. "There was a time when our family gave commands, sending out warriors to do battle for the Kingdom of Mistral; it was a time not so very long ago, within the memory of my grandfather. Now, the House of Thrax gives commands to us, and so the world turns on. But always, there is one who gives command, as there are others who obey. You who are gathered here beneath my roof are not worthless, you do not count for nothing in battle or debate, but one must command, and others must obey in time of war.

"All of you answered the call of Mistral when those who claim to be the leaders of this land would not; that does you credit that cannot be taken away by any man. But now, the leaders of the land have answered, and as much as we might say they are a little late, I do not see that we can either in honour or good conscience stand aside from the greater effort. As for some of the policies of the Council and the dislike that some of you have for them, well…that, I understand, is what the elections are for."

Pyrrha nodded. "Indeed. Thank you, Mother. I will not stand by and allow the innocent to suffer," she said, "but nor will I defy the Council when it is finally doing what we all hoped that it would do from the moment this crisis began."

"We trust you, Pyrrha," Nora said.

"You are our captain and our lady," Hector said. "My fiancée and our child are alive because of what you have done and built. You have given us no cause to doubt you."

"Thank you, that is…very kind of you to say," Pyrrha murmured. "Autumn Blaze, what do you think?"

Autumn was sat a little way apart from the fighters, apparently making notes on her scroll. She looked up, surprise written on her face. "Me? You want to know what I think?"

"And what the people think," Pyrrha added. "Which you might be best placed to tell us."

"They're scared," Autumn replied. "In the villages and the towns, at least, judging by the comment section. They want to know how this happened and how they can be sure that it won't happen again."

"One of the many terrible things about this is that I don't think we can be sure," Pyrrha said unhappily. "We can only hope that the defensive measures put in place by Lady Terri-Belle are sufficient to buy us time to respond that we did not have at Manjushage and that the greater forces available to Mistral will let the territory be covered better than we have been able to do."

Autumn nodded. "I think that people will think that you've done the right thing in siding with the Council," she said.

At least, those who don't think the Council was behind it, Pyrrha thought.

"I think you've done the right thing," Autumn continued. "Don't get me wrong; I like you guys, and I think what you've done is amazing, and I'm planning to stick around to see what happens next if you'll let me, but if you didn't pitch in with everyone else, I might have started to wonder why not, and whether there wasn't something else going on. And I might not have been the only one to think that way."

"And what about the bandits?" Arslan demanded. "What are people going to say about that?"

"Depends on if the bandits let them vote," Autumn said. She paused, to be met with a stony silence. "No? Too soon? Right, too soon, gotcha. Yeah, so, um…yeah, like you said, I might not count on the composition of the Council staying the same after next year's election, but I guess some might people might appreciate the fact that they've got the guts to do something really unpopular like this because they think it's right."

"I see," Pyrrha said softly. "Thank you. Thank you all. I am told that any immediate emergencies will be dealt with by the Imperial Guard, so we can all take the day – and the night – off to rest and enjoy ourselves in ways that we haven't had the chance to recently. Avail yourselves of the opportunity, please; you deserve it." She turned away as the meeting broke up, headed towards Terri-Belle where the latter stood by the door. "I hope you didn't feel too stung by any of that."

"In different circumstances, I might agree with the stings," Terri-Belle replied. "Your followers respect you."

"I know, and I try to be worthy of it," Pyrrha said.

Terri-Belle smirked. "I think the desire to be worthy of you might be what drives them," she said.

"I…am not sure what you mean," Pyrrha replied. "Would you like to speak to your sister or see our command set-up?"

"The latter," Terri-Belle said immediately. "Swift Foot and I have nothing left to say to one another."

"I see," Pyrrha said, although she could not help but think it was a great pity. "Jaune, will you take Lady Terri-Belle out to the stable? I'd like a word with my mother."

"Sure," Jaune said. He grinned at her. "Maybe when we get back, we can talk about what to do with our night off."

A smile crossed Pyrrha's lips even as a soft chuckle escaped them. "You have some ideas, I take it?"

"I've got a couple, seeing as how we have an engagement to celebrate," Jaune said.

"Ugh, can you show me your set-up and then be sweet after I'm gone?" Terri-Belle demanded. "I feel as though my teeth are about to rot."

"Uh, right," Jaune muttered. "Follow me."

As he led her out of the hall, Pyrrha sought out her mother, passing through the dispersing crowd – offering a few words in response to anything said to her – until she reached her. "You spoke very well, Mother," she murmured.

"I said what needed to be said," Lady Nikos replied. "It seemed to help in some way."

"Did you mean it?" Pyrrha asked. "Or do you think I have done ill?"

"I think…I believe that you had a thorny choice set before you and have attempted honestly to find the best course through it," Lady Nikos said. "There is little more that can be asked of one who is not blessed with the gift of foresight. But did you seek me out to ask my judgement on your deeds?"

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "I…I would like you to teach me how to speak, publicly. It…it is not a skill that I desire, but it seems it may be one that I have need of."

Lady Nikos nodded approvingly. "I am glad to see that you finally think so, seeing as I have believed that for some time. Very well. Not today – now, you should do as Jaune suggested and celebrate your engagement-"

"'Jaune'?" Pyrrha said. "He is 'Jaune,' now?"

"I will not be able to call him Mister Arc for much longer, will I?" Lady Nikos answered. "Best I get used to the change now. In any case, go out and have your fun. Tomorrow, or whenever the opportunity allows, I will begin to teach you what you wish – and need – to know."

The Envoys of Salem

The Envoys of Salem

Juturna reclined on the sofa, her booted feet kicking over the armrest, gently tapping as she hummed "Brand New Day" to herself as she played a browser game on her scroll. It was called Warring Tribes, and the aim was to build up a city and an army and, basically, beat up all the other players. A bit like real life, but less complicated.

A world where you could make things happen by willing it so... provided that your brother gave you a generous allowance on your credit card which you could use to pay to win, anyway.

So very much like real life, but without all of the messy things that made life awkward.

These kind of games were only her second favourite genre, but she wasn’t particularly feeling in the mood for a dating sim right now, unless somebody had come up with one where the heroine was a poor albino faunus trying to romance a rich Mistralian prince; she could use some pointers to pass on to Camilla.

She heard the footsteps approaching, but she didn’t look up until Lionheart coughed to get her attention.

Even then, she didn’t look at him right away. She set Warring Tribes to run on autopilot without her direction, closed up her scroll, stuck it in her pocket, grabbed – without looking – a chocolate-coated raisin from the bowl sitting on the table next to her, and only then, while she was chewing on it, did she look at Lionheart.

“Lionheart!” she cried, as if she was surprised to see him. “Great to see you.”

Leonardo Lionheart bowed awkwardly to her. “You…wished to see me, my lady?”

“Sit down.” Juturna gestured to the well-stuffed armchair just behind where he stood. When he sat, she smiled because he looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, poor guy. “Relax, Lionheart, you’re not in any trouble. I asked you here to thank you.”

Lionheart blinked in surprise. “To…thank me?”

“You have done my brother excellent service these past months,” Juturna told him. “The plan that he came up with has turned out to be…a little flawed,” she admitted, as she sat up straight. “But no one fair-minded can deny that you played your part to the best of your abilities.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Lionheart said quietly, his voice a mixture of surprise and uncertainty blended together like milk and coffee.

“The Council meeting is over?”

“It is, my lady,” Lionheart replied. “I should not be here, otherwise.”

“Right, of course you wouldn’t,” Juturna agreed. “And everything went through? Including the bandits?”

“Yes, although that was the only item on the Council’s agenda with a dissenting vote,” Lionheart admitted.

“Let me guess,” Juturna sighed. “Cicero Ward the Elder.”

“Even so,” Lionheart said. “But the motion passed nonetheless.”

“So it’s all good,” Juturna declared. “Big Brother will have his army in no time.” She smiled again, her painted lips twitching. “Turnus might not remember to thank you. After all,” her voice slipped into an impression of her brother’s deeper voice, “’when I worked at the SDC in Atlas, nobody ever got thanked for doing their duty.’ Did you know that Turnus spent some time in Atlas?”

Lionheart hesitated for a moment, before appearing to decide that it was alright for him to show a little amusement in his voice. “I believe I’ve heard it mentioned.”

Juturna chuckled. “Sometimes he acts the Atlesian officer, other times the Mistralian aristocrat, and it means that he misses bits of both, I think. He leaves some of the important stuff out,” she reached into her back pocket, and fished out a little blue box, “like the fact that a good lord rewards his faithful servants.” She remembered that her father had always been sure to reward good officers for work done well, in addition to the monetary compensation the state was paying them. It was how he kept his people loyal to him. She tossed the box, and Lionheart caught it with both hands. “For you. Obviously. With our gratitude.”

Lionheart opened the box, and Juturna watched as he lifted out the ring that was within. It was gold, with a large, black onyx sat atop the gleaming band.

“I…thank you, my lady,” Lionheart said, as he put the ring upon his finger. “You are very generous.”

“I can be, to those who help me get what I want,” Juturna said. “Continue to help me, and you will have greater rewards to follow, I guarantee it.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Juturna leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Lionheart, have you ever been in love?”

“Uh, lady?”

“It’s a simple question: have you ever been in love?”

“It might be a simple question, but it’s also rather a personal one,” Lionheart protested.

“Humour me,” Juturna said. “I mean we’re all friends here, right?”

Lionheart hesitated, but it must have been clear to him – as it was Juturna’s intent that it should be clear – that she wasn’t about to let this go, and so he nodded his head glumly – even more glumly than usual, which was saying a lot. “Yes, lady,” he admitted. “I was in love, once.”

Juturna smiled. “Was she beautiful?”

“Oh, exquisitely so,” Lionheart declared, seeming to warm to his theme a little. “A cold beauty to look upon, which belied the warmth of the heart within once you got to know her. Beautiful in any circumstances, but especially upon the dance floor…and even more so in battle. To see her fight was to see that which has driven poets mad.”

“So what happened?” Juturna asked. “Did she-“

“No,” Lionheart replied. “She still lives, in Atlas, or at least, I believe she does, I’ve heard nothing to the contrary.”

“In Atlas,” Juturna repeated. “Then it was distance that parted you?”

“I wish it were that simple,” Lionheart moaned. “She…she preferred another man, an Atlesian like herself, an officer in the military. I…being a much younger and much more foolish man, challenged him to a duel for her. He, although an Atlesian, accepted…and he defeated me.”

“Ouch,” Juturna winced. “So…they are together, in Atlas.”

“No,” Lionheart said. “She was not very happy with either of us; she reminded us both that she was not a prize to be won…but it was duty that parted them, in the end. Some small consolation for me, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Lionheart; I know that isn’t how this works,” Juturna told him. “I’m sorry for your troubles.”

“Thank you, lady.”

“Did you ever duel again?”

Lionheart shook his head. “I was never again such a rash fool.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Juturna cried. “Don’t say it like you regret it. You were in love! And because you were in love, you were willing to risk it all in the name of love! That’s not something to be ashamed of; that’s something to celebrate.” She got up, and started to pace up and down in front of the sofa. “I…I’ve never been in love, that way,” she confessed to him. There had been boys, of course, and girls too, but none of them had scratched the itch for her. They’d been fun, but she’d never felt as though she was having anything more than fun. Jupiter Vasilias had come closest, but then he’d died, so that was that. “But I love my brother, and I love Camilla; I love them both with all of my heart.” Perhaps that was why she couldn’t love anyone else; there was no room left in her heart for them. “And because I love them both so much, like you, there is nothing that I won’t do, nothing that I won’t dare, no line that I won’t cross for their sake and for their happiness.” She sat down again, and once more looked straight into Lionheart’s eyes. “So, while they are at the palace and we can talk without being overheard, tell me about Pyrrha.”

"P-Pyrrha," Lionheart stammered. "Pyrrha Nikos?"

"No, Pyrrha, my hair-stylist’s cousin- of coursePyrrha Nikos!" Juturna snapped.

"What do you want to know?" Lionheart asked.

Juturna's eyes narrowed. "You're either very dense today, or there are things you don't want to tell me, and I'm not sure which one I like less," she said. She took a deep breath. "Pyrrha doesn't like you. Pyrrha knows about Salem, and she doesn't like her either. I want to know how Pyrrha knows about Salem, what she knows that I don't, and I want to know why it upsets her so."

Lionheart hesitated. "I…how much do you really know, about Salem?"

Juturna shrugged. "She is old, ancient even, and since ancient times, people have gone to her seeking power, as I did."

"Power, yes," Lionheart muttered. "And other things, besides. Sometimes…sometimes, she is the one who seeks you out, and not the other way around."

Which is what happened to you, I guess, Juturna thought. "Pyrrha," she repeated.

Lionheart shook his head. "It does not begin with Pyrrha," he said. "There have always been those who opposed Salem."

"Why?" Juturna asked.

"That is what I began to ask myself," Lionheart replied. "I was one of those opponents. I was recruited, even as Pyrrha herself was, by Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy. But to what end? What was the point of all the sacrifices that Ozpin demanded of those who served him? I…I couldn't find an answer to that question, and so, I sought the protection of one who protects and…and rewards her faithful servants." He turned the onyx ring over on his finger. "Even as one of your Mistralian lords."

"But she isn't protecting you," Juturna reminded him. "I am, and my brother."

"Yes, of course," Lionheart said, "but if Salem-”

“If Salem were to send word to me telling me to throw you away, I would not."

Lionheart's eyes widened. "No?"

"No!" Juturna cried. "I am Juturna Rutulus, whose ancestors stood at the left hand of the Emperors of Mistral, and you are a servant of our house, which was not made to suit but to command. I will not cast you out upon the word of Salem or Pyrrha Nikos or any other in this city. Unless you betray me and put my family in danger, and you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

Lionheart stared at her, his dark eyes wide. "My lady, I fear I cannot comprehend your heart, yet I am in awe of it. But at the same time, I fear that you underestimate Salem greatly if you think that she will brook such defiance."

"The first Red Queen told her to go take a flying leap off the mountainside, and she did," Juturna pointed out. "How bad can she be?"

"The Red Queen's dominion was soon restricted to the lands within sight of Mistral's walls by roaming bands of grimm which kept the city under virtual siege until her death," Lionheart replied. "Bands of grimm the queen herself dared not go out and face. Yes, she survived earning the enmity of the Dark Mother, but she did not prosper."

Juturna's eyebrows rose. "Are you…you're telling me that Salem controls grimm?"

"She has some connection to them, although she rarely exercises any great control over them," Lionheart admitted. "That is why it is so easy for Ozpin to brand her evil and to convince brave girls like Pyrrha that she must be opposed and all her servants too. Foolish, futile; one might as well oppose the tide as fight against the power of Salem."

Juturna flopped back onto the sofa, her arms falling down to her sides. A connection to the grimm. To the grimm? Gods and my ancestors, what shadow have I invited into this house? "Lionheart," she said, her voice so much softer now than it had been. "Tell me the truth now: will she keep faith with me?"

"Yes," Lionheart replied. "I have never known her to betray any of her servants. If you are faithful to her, then she will keep faith with you in turn."

Juturna nodded. "Good," she murmured. "That…that's good. So long as she holds up her end, then…then it will all be worthwhile." She smiled at Lionheart. "It's all for them, you see. I have people who are depending on me, even if they don't exactly know it yet, so I can't let them down just because I'm a little scared of what I've gotten myself into."

Lionheart looked as if he could not quite believe it. "They are fortunate to have a sister and a friend like you, my lady."

"Aww, you're very sweet, even if you are flattering me," Juturna replied. "In any case, they're totally worth it. They…they are the sun and moon of my life, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for them; nobody that I wouldn't do it to, and…nobody that I wouldn't deal with, as I've just proven." She chuckled. "One last question, Lionheart, and then I'll let you escape: what does Salem want?

"I…" Lionheart hesitated. "I am not sure that she would like me to say."

Juturna turned her head a little, so that she was looking at him out of the side of her eyes. "But you know, don't you?"

"Yes," Lionheart admitted, "but-"

He was interrupted by the front door of the house opening with such a crash that it could be heard all the way in the drawing room, one flight of stairs up and several doors down.

Juturna got to her feet. "Well, it sounds like somebody had a bad day at the palace."

Lionheart, too, rose from his seat. "Should I depart?"

"It depends on whether you want to meet my brother on the way," Juturna said. "He probably won't come up here-"

"Juturna!" Turnus shouted, and heavy, rapid footsteps made their way closer and closer.

"Okay, he's coming in here," Juturna said. She looked around the room, there wasn't much cover except for a few potted houseplants. "Uh, hide behind the aspidistra."

Too late. The door slammed open, striking the wall with a rather sickening thud. Turnus strode in, wearing the armour that he had worn to the palace. Camilla, likewise dressed for battle, followed him in and – a lot more quietly – shut the door behind them both. It was the wary expression on Camilla's face that worried Juturna, just a little bit. She could handle Turnus in a bad mood, but if Camilla was concerned as well, then this was about more than just someone saying the wrong thing or him coming face to face with Pyrrha's fiancé and feeling sour about the fact.

She wondered if Pyrrha had told him something more about Salem. If he'd learned any of the things that Lionheart had just told her.

If he knew about the grimm, he might not take that very well, and neither would Camilla.

What did you say, Pyrrha?

"Hey, Big Brother," Juturna said, plastering a grin on her face. "So, how did it go?"

"It was mildly humiliating," Turnus muttered.

"Well, at least it wasn't exceedingly humiliating," offered Juturna by way of consolation.

Turnus growled wordlessly at her through clenched teeth and a closed mouth.

"Oh, okay, I'm gonna shut up now," Juturna murmured.

Lionheart ventured. "Uh, I should probably-"

"No, you will stay right where you are," Turnus snapped, pointing at Lionheart without turning away from Juturna. "This concerns you as well."

"In fact, we both hope it concerns you more than Juturna," Camilla said, and the mildness of her tone could not wholly conceal the steeliness of it, nor the fact that with one hand, she was reaching for the dust gladius she wore at her hip.

"Me?" Lionheart said. "I…I don't understand. Have I displeased you in some way?"

"One of you has," Turnus said. He kept his eyes fixed upon his sister. "I am going to ask you this question only once, Little Sister, because I expect you to be honest with me when you answer. Who is Cinder Fall?"

Juturna didn't need to act puzzled or ignorant. It was all entirely genuine upon her face as she said, "Who? I don't know that name."

Turnus, bless him, did not ask a second time. He didn't hesitate to round upon Lionheart, placing his body protectively between the headmaster and Juturna; at the same time, Camilla drew her sword and began to sidestep around to get behind Lionheart.

"So you lied to my sister," Turnus said, his words heavy with anger that dripped off them like water dripping from an oversoaked sponge. "Explain. Everything. Now."

"Turnus," Juturna said. "There's no need for you to get all-"

"Juturna," Camilla interrupted her. "Please, trust us."

Lionheart trembled. "M-my lord…what is it you think that I have-"

"I have just heard some very disturbing things about you," Turnus declared, "and while I am very glad that my sister knew not of them, that does not alter the fact that you knew. Now, tell me about Cinder Fall, and upon your answer hangs the difference between my handing you over to the Myrmidons or simply cutting you down here and now. Quickly!"

Lionheart yelped in fright. "Cinder Fall…yes…Cinder Fall. She…she was a servant of Salem; she wished to infiltrate Beacon Academy last year, and so, I enrolled her and her subordinates at Haven and made all the arrangements for them to travel to Vale as part of the Vytal Festival. While there…she was caught attempting to sabotage the CCT and forced to flee the school."

Turnus was silent for a moment. "And?"

Lionheart blinked. "And, my lord?"

"You forgot to mention how Cinder Fall also allied with the White Fang, orchestrated a series of terrorist attacks on Vale, and murdered Phoebe Kommenos," Camilla said.

"I didn't know that she was going to do that!" Lionheart protested.

"You arranged for her entry into Beacon Academy with no idea what she was going to do when she got there?" Camilla asked. "Do you think us foolish enough to believe that?"

"Cinder kept her plans to herself," Lionheart explained, or sought to. "She didn't trust me with the details of her operation in Vale, and I wasn't inclined to ask. I didn't want to know what she was planning. I didn't…want to think about how many of my other students might perish as a result of her plots and her actions."

"Turnus," Juturna said. "It's okay. There's no need for you to be like this."

"How can you say that?" Turnus demanded, not turning his back on Lionheart to look at her. "The White Fang? A breach of Vale's defences, the destruction of the tower, is that what you want for our city?"

"Of course not!" Juturna cried, sliding around Turnus to stand in front of him, looking up. "You know what I want. I want what you want."

"I want to be King of Mistral, not lord of its ashes," Turnus replied.

"I'm not working with the White Fang," Juturna said. "Neither is Lionheart."

Turnus looked at her, and then his gaze flickered to Lionheart. "Pyrrha knows about your connection to Cinder Fall, and you are hiding here because you fear her vengeance. Have I said anything untrue?"

"Only that, for all her martial prowess, it is not Pyrrha that worries me," Lionheart replied. "She has associates far more thuggish and less honourable."

"Hmm. And you decided to shelter him here because-"

"Because Salem asked me to," Juturna replied. "In exchange for her assistance for me…for all of us."

"And who is Salem?" Camilla asked. "We want to trust you, Juturna, but with what we know…have we not a right to know the rest?"

I wish that I could tell you, Juturna said. "Salem…Salem…Salem is the head of a cabal, dedicated to the overthrow of the established world order and the transformation of Remnant. She's completely insane, in other words, but she has power-"

"What kind of power?" Turnus asked.

"The power to bring down Vale, apparently," Juturna replied. "Power that she has agreed to lend to me, to us, and all I have to do is keep Lionheart safe from his enemies."

"From Pyrrha," Camilla clarified.

"Pyrrha is part of a secret society dedicated to fighting Salem, yes," Juturna admitted.

"This sounds ridiculous," Turnus declared. "Atlesian comic book stuff."

"It is absolutely true," Juturna said. "I swear to you."

"Then why should she help us?" Turnus demanded. "Why is Lionheart of such great value to her that she will help us gain the keys to the kingdom just for his safekeeping? What does Salem want?"

"I was just about to ask that before you burst in here and started yelling," Juturna said, with just a touch of asperity creeping into her voice.

Turnus snorted. "I will not apologise for being concerned," he said. "Well, Lionheart? It seems you have my sister’s question to answer."

Lionheart sighed. "There…there is a weapon, an ancient weapon, held in a chamber underneath Haven Academy. Salem…desires it."

Nothing, but a certain trinket in the possession of the Empress, which was rudely stolen from me in days long ago, Juturna thought, remembering the story of the Dark Mother.

"What kind of weapon?" Camilla asked.

"I don't know."

"It is underneath your school, and you don't know what it is?" Camilla asked incredulously.

"It's locked away; I've never seen it," Lionheart said.

"There is, I presume, some reason why this weapon cannot be retrieved this very night?" Turnus said.

"It requires a key," Lionheart replied. "A special key, a key that…the key is a girl."

"'A girl'?" Turnus repeated. "Madness upon madness."

"It is true," Lionheart said. "It's all perfectly true; the door can only be unlocked by a girl whom no one in Mistral has seen these several years past. No doubt Salem is searching for her even as we speak."

"All the more reason for us to find her first," Juturna said.

All three of them looked at her.

"What?" Juturna replied. "I know that you're not happy about this situation," she said to Turnus. "But think about it! An ancient weapon! What if it's the long lost sword Kusanagi down there? You'd have more right to the throne than Pyrrha with that blade in your hand, and even if it isn't that, if it's wanted so badly, it must be pretty powerful. Powerful enough-"

"To make me king, perhaps," Turnus murmured.

"It would be better than relying upon…what sound like some unsavoury allies," Camilla murmured. "You would never work with the White Fang, but to work with those who would…who would bring down whole kingdoms for their ambitions…nothing is worth that. If this is our course, then…then better to steer it ourselves." She did not put her sword away.

"Lionheart, how do we find this girl, this living key?" Turnus demanded.

"I…I'm not sure," Lionheart said. "She fled such a long time ago, she could be anywhere by now, and-"

Turnus’ scroll went off, making a low buzzing sound.

"That's just someone at the gate," he said dismissively. "They will go away eventually. Lionheart, continue."

But whoever was at the gate did not go away, nor did they stop trying to gain admittance to the house. The scroll continued to buzz incessantly, and the nagging sound was such that Turnus eventually had to pull out his scroll and answer it with an irate, "Yes?"

"Have I the honour of addressing Lord Turnus Rutulus?" asked the rich, full voice that emerged from out of the scroll.

"It is I," Turnus replied. "And who are you, sir?"

"Of course, my name is Doctor Arthur Watts, and this is my associate, Chrysalis. We were hoping to speak with Lady Juturna and with Professor Lionheart."

Turnus looked at Juturna. She shook her head; she had never heard of a Doctor Watts before, or Chrysalis for that matter.

"Salem," Camilla mouthed silently.

Lionheart nodded, without saying a word.

"We will be with you directly," Turnus said, shutting the scroll before Doctor Watts could reply.

"What are you going to do?" Juturna asked.

"Give them no cause to suspect you of any disloyalty that might lead them to retaliate against you," Turnus said. "Not until we have this weapon and can use its power to get out from under their thumb."

"I'm not under her thumb," Juturna protested. "If I was, I wouldn't be so quick to suggest that we might not need her, would I?"

"Nevertheless, I will not take the risk," Turnus declared. His gaze became a little disapproving. "You should not have gotten involved with such people."

"I wanted to help you," Juturna said.

"I know," Turnus replied, his voice soft and gentle, "but I would not trade a single hair on your head for crown and throne and the whole city of Mistral at my feet. And you ought to have remembered that."

"Um…my lord," Lionheart murmured. "May I ask…what is to become of-"

"Nothing, yet," Turnus told him. "I am not happy that you lied to my sister, but it appears that she can find it in herself to forgive you, and besides…you may be of use to us yet." He stepped forward and smacked Lionheart across the face hard enough to send him staggering. "But deceive Juturna again, and I will not be so generous, do you understand?"

Lionheart clutched his face. "Yes, my lord. You make yourself perfectly clear."

"Then come," Turnus commanded. "Let us see what these envoys of Salem would have of us."

“Wait, no!” Juturna cried, because things were starting to get a little out of hand at this point. “No, you can’t go with me. I have to greet them alone.”

“Why?” demanded Turnus.

“Because if you come with me, then they’ll know you know,” Juturna explained. “And then…I didn’t want to get either of you involved in this.”

“If you are involved,” Camilla said, softly but firmly nonetheless, “then we are involved.”

“No,” Juturna said. “You’re not.”

“You expect me to let my little sister-”

“I’m your little sister, not your baby sister.”

“You could be my older sister, and I would not let you consort with cutthroats and terrorists alone!” Turnus snapped.

“I’ve been doing it already,” Juturna pointed out.

“That doesn’t make me any more disposed to let it continue,” Turnus muttered.

“Listen to me,” Juturna pleaded. She really, really didn’t want either of them to get any deeper into this than they were already. She hadn’t meant to get them involved at all – they already knew too much; why did Pyrrha have to say anything? – but dragging them yet deeper into the mire of Salem’s machinations was far too much. “If you two stay out of this, it will be easier for you to work upon our plans from the outside if we need them. Then you can ride to the rescue if I get into too much trouble with these guys, okay?”

Turnus scowled. “You are not to let them drag you away,” he instructed her. “No matter the cause, you are not to leave the city in their company. Ideally, you will not even leave the house. You may go to Manjushage, but they will not go with you, and other than that-”

“House arrest,” Juturna said, making it sound more agreeable than it maybe should have been. She gave her brother a faux-Atlesian salute. “You got it, Bro.”

Turnus rolled his eyes. “I don’t know whether it’s good that you’ve recovered your usual flippancy or not.”

Juturna grinned at him. “I won’t be long,” she said. “Probably. Come on, Lionheart, let’s greet our visitors.” She began to stride towards the door, not waiting for Lionheart but rather leaving him to follow along behind her.

Before she had quite reached the door, Camilla caught her by the arm. “Be careful,” she urged, “and if…don’t hesitate to come to me. I can’t say that I like what you have done, but…I will always protect you.”

“I know,” Juturna whispered. She sniggered. “Although, if something were to happen to me, you’d be in a great position to-“

“Don’t!” Camilla hissed. “Don’t even joke about something like that. You know that if we…” she shook her head. “Just go,” she said, with exasperated resignation in her voice.

Juturna chuckled as she led Lionheart down the stairs and out of the house. The courtyard was not completely empty; there were a couple of squads doing drill on the right hand side, while on the left a little closer to the gate two of her brother’s huntsmen were sparring with one another, darting and weaving their way amongst the statues as their weapons clashed. They didn’t stop to acknowledge Juturna or Lionheart as the two of them made their way towards the gate.

“Do you know either of these two?” Juturna asked.

“No,” Lionheart said. “This will be my first time meeting either. I wasn’t even aware that Chrysalis was...involved in all of this.”

“A bit unfortunate,” Juturna admitted, as she clapped her hands to signal the gate to open. The metallic barrier slid sideways, behind the wall, rumbling a little as the motors worked.

On the other side of the gate stood two figures, accompanied by a squad of androids, their bodies concealed beneath long grey cloaks, with some kind of spears held in their claw-like metallic hands, flanking the two visitors on either side like some kind of honour guard. Juturna wondered why they had bothered bringing the robots; it wasn’t as if they had not strength enough within these walls, and if they did not, then a few androids would not make much difference.

One of the two who now stood at her gate was a man, presumably Doctor Watts; he was middle-aged, his hair turned to grey at the tips, his mouth concealed behind a walrus moustache. He was tall and thin and too much of either for Juturna’s liking. Nobody should be that slender; it wasn’t right.

His companion was a faunus woman, a bug of some kind, judging by the gossamer wings on her back, brown-skinned, with long, lank hair of a sickly blue-green colour, while her eyes were as green as emeralds. A pair of fangs, small but sharp, jutted out of her mouth over her bottom lip. Her neck was bare, exposing the green choker that she wore around it, but the rest of her was wholly concealed beneath a suit of black, chitinous armour, with bulky shoulder-pads and long and vicious-looking spikes jutting out of the equally large vambraces. She wore a sword – or at least it looked like a sword now – thrust into the green sash that she wore around her waist.

The slender man bowed to her. “Lady Juturna, I presume.”

“Indeed. Doctor Watts?”

“Quite,” Doctor Watts agreed. “And this is my associate, Chrysalis. Lionheart, it’s good to finally meet you.”

“Likewise, Doctor,” Lionheart murmured. “Ma’am.”

Chrysalis chuckled, though at being called "ma’am" or at something else altogether, Juturna couldn’t have said.

“I presume you know,” Doctor Watts said, “why we are here.”

“Or at least whom we are here on behalf of,” Chrysalis amended.

Juturna nodded. “I have to say, when she promised me power, I was expecting…maybe something a little different.”

Chrysalis laughed once more. “I, too, had my expectations…confounded. But I have learnt that the offer of power can be more the opportunity to take power for oneself.”

Juturna snorted. “If I wanted to take power for myself, I wouldn’t need the help.”

“Rest assured, my lady, you will find us very capable associates,” Doctor Watts declared. “If we may-“

“Of course, come in,” Juturna said. “Come in, come in. I presume you’ll be staying a while.”

“Until our business is concluded,” Doctor Watts confirmed, as he and Chrysalis walked through the gate. “Now, as we could do with a little filling-in on the state of affairs in this city, perhaps you wouldn’t mind leading us somewhere we can talk.”

"Two of them?" Pyrrha repeated.

"Yes," Aska replied. "Doctor Arthur Watts and Chrysalis of the White Fang."

"You recognised both of them?" Jaune asked.

"From their photographs, yes," Aska confirmed. "I thought that Chrysalis was in prison, but she must have escaped since I left Atlas."

"With help from Salem, perhaps," Pyrrha muttered. She sat at her dressing table with her back to the vanity mirror. Aska had caught them both as she and Jaune returned from lunch, and they had gone into Pyrrha's bedroom to talk privately. "And they were met at the gate by Lionheart and Juturna?"

"They were," Aska informed her. She stood before Pyrrha like an Atlesian soldier, feet spread apart and hands clasped behind her back. "They went inside, and the gate closed behind. I am afraid I could see no more."

"You've seen enough," Jaune told her. He stood at Pyrrha's side, one hand resting gently upon her shoulder.

Aska acknowledged that with a stiff nod. "Shall I resume my watch at the house?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "But if either Watts or Chrysalis – or Lionheart or Juturna for that matter – leave the compound, then follow them; it will be no good to know that they're there if we don't know what they're doing."

"'Follow'?" Aska echoed softly. "Or would you like me to intercept them on the way? It would be wise to make an end of them as swiftly as we may, if the opportunity presents itself."

"It would be wise," Jaune acknowledged, "but would it be safe?"

Aska bristled just a little at the affront. "You think me incapable?"

"No one is saying that, nor will they," Pyrrha assured her, “but we know how deadly and dangerous the servants of Salem can be; she does not employ weak agents to do her bidding. You may not be a match for them, and they would show you no mercy once the battle was joined."

"Much must be risked in war," Aska reminded them.

"But not to no good purpose," Pyrrha argued. "You said that you knew Chrysalis's image; do you know her reputation also?"

"I do," Aska said. "She is as ruthless as you say, and cunning. It is no surprise to me that Salem has sought her out."

"And is she strong?" asked Jaune.

Aska was silent for a moment. "I am not weak in my own account," she declared proudly.

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But if you were to perish in a futile battle that you could not win…to what end would you throw away your life so rashly?" She smiled. "I do not wish, nor do I intend, to tell your father that you died for nothing."

It seemed that there was a little water in Aska's eyes. Her mouth twisted in distaste. "I am sure he would not care; as I told you, he has other daughters, and better suited to his needs."

"Yet I am sure that he must love you still, if he is not a cruel man," Pyrrha replied, "and I would not wish to think of Professor Ozpin enlisting so cruel a man into his service. But leaving that aside, will you not simply take care upon your own account?"

"By my sacrifice shall the city prosper and our enemies fail," Aska murmured, reciting the Atlesian catechism.

"Sacrifice, I understand," Pyrrha assured her. "I, too, would sacrifice my life to preserve this kingdom, without hesitation, but I would not waste the life of a single Myrmidon in a battle that would yield nothing but their death. Do not provoke a confrontation that you cannot win. You are more use to us as our eyes upon the house of the Rutulians than you are as an honoured memory."

“And besides,” Jaune added, “the resources of Salem are vast, we don't know how many agents she has at her command on top of the grimm. We stopped Cinder, and she just used Amber instead; Amber died, and now, we have Chrysalis. Even if you killed her, then she’d just be replaced next week, but we only have one another, and you in particular, you’re the only ninja we have, the only person who can do what you’re doing right now. That’s not a trade we can afford to make. It’s not even a trade we can afford to risk.”

Aska’s lips twitched in a smile that was almost a smirk. “For a moment, you sounded almost like my father,” she said, her tone becoming more businesslike. “Very well, I shall observe their coming and going, but no more." She bowed, fist into palm, and made her exit from the bedroom.

The door closed behind her with a click.

"So," Pyrrha said, "Salem has sent her agents to Mistral."

"It looks like it," Jaune agreed.

"She's making her move," Pyrrha declared.

"Starting to," Jaune clarified.

"Yes, of course," Pyrrha murmured. "It begins now, and I have just signed away our freedom to act against her plots."

"We're free to act so long as we don't get caught," Jaune argued.

Pyrrha could not help but chuckle. "Yes, I suppose that's one way to look at it." She twisted around, glancing at her reflection in the mirror: a girl dressed for the beau monde, not the battlefield. "It appears that we won't be going to the ballet tonight," she said wistfully.

Jaune's eyebrows rose. "Why not?"

Pyrrha stared at him in astonishment. "Surely, you're not suggesting-"

"What are we actually going to do?" Jaune asked reasonably. "Sit around here worrying all night about things we can't change? We know that there are more agents of Salem in the Rutulian house than there were before, but we can't get at them there, and we don't know what they're planning either. It's not as though we can move against them this very night."

"Of course not," Pyrrha said. "Especially not now that we have both pledged our services to the Council under Terri-Belle's command. Juturna may bring civil strife to the streets of Mistral by her involvement with Salem and her followers, but I will not inaugurate it. The Myrmidons will not draw first blood within the city walls."

"Then what are you going to do?" Jaune demanded. "Brood on it?"

Pyrrha understood the point that he was trying to make, but that didn't mean that she could wholeheartedly agree with it. "Aska isn't getting the night off," she pointed out. "It feels wrong to go out and enjoy myself with you while she maintains her watch."

"We've done that already," Jaune reminded her.

"I know," Pyrrha said, with just a little self-reproach entering her voice, "but it may not have been right then, and it feels more wrong now that she has more reason to keep a keen lookout."

Jaune knelt down before her and reached out to take her hands. "I don't know what Watts and Chrysalis are here to do," he said. "Beyond our general guesses, I mean. I don't know exactly what they're planning or how exactly we can stop them, but I know that we will stop them. Just like I know that there will be hard fighting up ahead and days and nights when we'll regret the fact that we didn't go to the ballet when we had the chance. Let me take you out," he urged, "before I have to send you into battle again."

Pyrrha smiled. "You know just what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That's because the girl knows that what I'm saying is right," Jaune replied. "And besides, we're as likely to have an idea on our way as we are staring at the walls. And with a little luck…well, they only just got here. If we're fortunate, they won't even have their plan figured out yet."

The wardrobe door was ever so slightly ajar in Juturna's room, a shadowy crevice leading into the recesses of the oversized closet itself. She hadn't bothered to close the door, as it wasn't bothering anybody being open the way it was, and neither Doctor Watts nor Chrysalis seemed to care, if they even noticed.

Juturna sat on the bed, her legs crossed, her stuffed animals clustered all around her as the pastel pink quilt cover crumpled beneath her. Doctor Watts had taken the spindly white wooden chair that normally rested beneath the writing desk in the far left corner of the room, Lionheart looked rather awkward sitting on the padded stool in front of the lavender dressing table, while Chrysalis leaned against the wall near the door. The latter had a rather mocking look upon her face, or at least that was how it seemed to Juturna herself. She didn't like it. She might have to teach this woman her place if she kept on smirking like that.

"The kingdom has been plagued by repeated grimm attacks ever since the CCT went down," Juturna explained. "Is that your doing?"

Doctor Watts looked at Lionheart. "Exactly how much have you told her, Leo?"

"Only as much as she needs to know, I assure you," Lionheart replied.

"You and I have a slightly different definition of 'need to know,'" Doctor Watts muttered.

"I need to know everything," Juturna said.

"Do you?" Chrysalis asked, in a tone as mocking as the look on her face. "And why is that?"

"Because you two are here to help me out," Juturna declared. "To serve me and to work towards my goals. I have kept my end of the bargain that I made with Salem; it's time that she held up hers."

"And it will be upheld, I assure you," Doctor Watts said, with a trace of amusement in his voice, "but I fear, my lady, that you misunderstand. Sheltering Professor Lionheart in your home was not the end of your obligations under your agreement with our mistress, merely the beginning of them."

"'The beginning'?" Juturna repeated. "What else is there?"

"I'm not sure, yet," Doctor Watts admitted. "That depends on how things stand here, for one thing. We will help you to achieve your ambitions, but we will expect you to reciprocate when it comes to ours."

Juturna smiled. "Of course," she said. "So long as my brother is king by the time we're through, then you won't hear me complain about the price."

Doctor Watts flashed a smile from underneath his walrus moustache. "That's the spirit. Resolve…worthy of an Atlesian, one might say."

Juturna laughed. "My brother is the one who would be flattered by that comparison, Doctor, not me."

"Indeed? In any case, the answer to your original question is no, the spate of grimm attacks are not the result of any intent of ours," Doctor Watts explained. "Rather, the result of the creatures' own nature. Doubtless, the panic engendered by the attacks is creating a vicious cycle, in which grimm are attracted to the fear caused by earlier attacks, in turn creating more fear which then draws in even more grimm."

"The bandit attacks probably don't help either," Juturna said.

Doctor Watts chuckled. "No, my lady. Probably not."

"We did not see much sign of havoc on our journey into the city," Chrysalis remarked.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Juturna demanded.

"I'm saying that it didn't look like a countryside that was being ravaged by grimm and bandits alike."

"My lady," Juturna growled.

"Hmm?" came the reply from Chrysalis.

"I am Juturna Rutulus," she declared. "My father was commissioner of police, my grandfather won the Vytal Festival for Haven Academy, my great-great grandfather commanded the army that stormed the Stallion Pass during the Great War, so don't talk to me like I'm some little girl." She was not as proud as Turnus, as a rule; but she could be, in a pinch, and she wasn't about to take this lying down. "I'm the reason you're here."

"Yes, you are, aren't you?" Chrysalis murmured. "My lady," she added, bowing her head.

Juturna's eyes narrowed. "The reason things don't look too bad out there," she explained, "is that Pyrrha Nikos has raised a company and leads them in defence of the settlements around Mistral. They’re mostly Haven students, a few tournament fighters, I think. They call themselves the Myrmidons."

"How gallant of her," Doctor Watts observed. "Are any other of her Beacon teammates here in Mistral with her?"

"The boy," Juturna said. "The one she brought home from Vale. He's going to marry her."

"Jaune Arc," Doctor Watts murmured. "What of Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose?"

"Who?"

"They are probably still in Vale," Doctor Watts said to himself. "Even so, two Sapphires here in Mistral."

"They will have to be dealt with, I presume?" Chrysalis asked.

"Is that necessary?" demanded Juturna. "I…is it necessary?"

"How much do Pyrrha and Jaune know about us?" Doctor Watts inquired in turn.

"More than I'd like," Juturna admitted. "Pyrrha called unexpectedly and saw Lionheart here."

"Then it is almost certain to come to a confrontation at some point," Doctor Watts said. "Is that a problem, my lady?"

"No," Juturna replied at once, "it's not a problem, it's just…unfortunate." I warned you not to get in my way, Pyrrha.

"And what has the Council been doing while Pyrrha Nikos takes on the first duty of the state?" asked Doctor Watts.

"Fretted about how popular and powerful she's getting," Juturna said with a grin. "In all seriousness, I think that's like fifty percent of what they've been doing, and the other fifty percent is having a lot of votes that all failed, thanks, in part, to Lionheart."

"It's good to see that you're continuing to put your talents for bureaucratic mischief to good use, Lionheart," Doctor Watts observed. "Between obstructing votes in Council to botching team selections to watering down the Haven curriculum, it's clear that your talents lie in management; you would have been wasted as an ordinary huntsman."

"I…thank you, Doctor," Lionheart replied, in a tone that suggested he wasn't entirely sure it was a compliment.

"That changed today, though," Juturna said. "After an attack in which the entire able-bodied population of a town was abducted before the Myrmidons could arrive. Was-"

"No, my lady, that wasn't us either," Doctor Watts declared preemptively. "You were saying that things have changed as a result?"

Juturna nodded. "As of today, the Myrmidons, my brother's own Rutulian Security, and a company raised by Councillor Lady Ming have joined together to form a kind of army, under the command of the Steward’s' eldest daughter, Terri-Belle, the Warden of the Mistral Tower. From now on, they'll work with the Imperial Guard to defend the interior settlements."

"And what of the farther regions?" Doctor Watts pressed.

"Bandit clans who wish to be pardoned for their crimes will be given license to administer and tax the outlying sectors in exchange for protecting them from the grimm," Juturna said. "I came up with that idea," she added, not without a touch of pride.

"What did you hope to gain by it, my lady?" Chrysalis asked.

"An army, in the end," Juturna replied. "My brother will need one for his plans."

Doctor Watts stared at her for a moment, before the smile flashed like a knife once more from underneath his moustache. "So the Council is united now?"

"Mostly, but only about that," Juturna said. "Pyrrha has been telling people about Lionheart's connection to Cinder Fall. They may try and use it to remove him."

"That would be less than ideal," Doctor Watts agreed. "Forgive me, but it has been some time since I was last in Mistral. Who are the Councillors now? Lord Diomedes is still Steward, yes?"

"Yeah," Juturna said. "He mostly wants to keep things the way they were and not give up his power, I think. Lady Ming's wealth comes from inside the city walls and all the homes and businesses she owns and rents out; so she isn't very concerned with defending the territories, one way or another. She wants to provoke a confrontation with Atlas to distract people from the problems of the kingdom, which is stupid."

"Because you'd lose," Chrysalis observed.

"Exactly," Juturna agreed. "Councillor Timur owns extensive lands outside the city; since they provide his income, he supported Pyrrha and her actions in defending his lands, but he also wants to pick a fight with Atlas because he thinks we underestimate ourselves and we'll turn out to be much stronger than we think once we actually take the step. Councillor Ward used to be a lawyer; one of those crusading types who are always going up against the system. He's mellowed out since he got elected but he tends to vote the way Pyrrha would like him to. And then there's Lionheart, obviously."

Doctor Watts nodded. "So Lady Ming and Councillor Timur are the swing votes?"

"I suppose you could put it like that," Juturna replied.

Doctor Watts stroked his chin with one hand. "A war between Atlas and Mistral is not in the least desirable," he said. "A conflict of that sort would strengthen Ironwood's position as people look to a proven, seasoned commander, while Jacques' lack of political experience would count against him in such circumstances. No, that won't do at all."

“Jacques?” Juturna asked. “Someone I should know?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Doctor Watts said, before an incredulous Chrysalis could open her mouth. “Suffice to say that Salem has plans in operation far afield from Mistral.”

"Right. Anyway, Turnus agrees that we don’t need a war with Atlas," Juturna said. "In fact, he thinks that we need to grow closer to Atlas, not become hostile to it."

"Then your brother is a wise man," Doctor Watts said.

"Fortunately," Chrysalis said, "I think that I have the perfect set of skills to move this city in the right direction."

"'Skills'?" Juturna asked. "What skills?"

Chrysalis did not answer. She just smiled, a predatory, almost bestial smile that showed off more teeth than the two fangs most prominent in her mouth.

And her laughter was chilling.

They left without giving Juturna much more clue about their exact and immediate intentions, and Juturna was left alone.

Until she heard the wardrobe door – the door that had been ajar when she came in – creak open.

“Do you still believe that you hold the leash on them?” Camilla asked as she climbed out of the closet.

Juturna stared at her. “Did you…? Were you in there the entire time?”

Camilla nodded. “I thought that you might bring them here,” she explained. “So I made sure to get into place before you did.”

“You hid a lot better than you did from Turnus,” Juturna remarked.

A slight flush rose to Camilla’s cheeks. “It wasn’t a serious matter, hiding from Turnus.”

“Your happiness is very serious to me.”

“Now you’re just trying to change the subject,” Camilla said. She walked quickly across the room and climbed onto the bed next to Juturna. “You shouldn’t have taken that tone with her.”

“What tone?”

“You know very well what tone,” Camilla replied. “‘I am Juturna, daughter of the House of Rutulus.’”

“I am a daughter of the House of Rutulus!”

“You rarely act like it,” Camilla pointed out, “and you were unwise to do so in front of that woman.”

“So I should have let her talk to me that way?”

“She will not forget that you humiliated her, and in front of others,” Camilla murmured. “I fear that she will not forgive it either.”

“And you divined her nature from listening to her from the inside of my closet?”

“I could have divined that from falling asleep and waking only to hear her laugh,” Camilla declared. She reached out and clasped Juturna’s shoulders. “I was not born in this palatial house; I have seen a little more of the world than you, and of the villains who inhabit it. Trust me when I say that woman is dangerous. I can smell malice on her like perfume.”

“You’re exaggerating!”

“And you are too blithe in this by far!” Camilla snapped. “Far too blithe for what you have taken on. Consorting with murderers and terrorists, with the White Fang and who knows what else?”

With the grimm. “You’re saying you don’t think I’m taking this seriously enough?”

“Do you think that you’re taking this seriously enough?”

“They’re only here because I invited them,” Juturna said. “What have I to fear? What have any of us to fear?”

“I fear for you,” Camilla whispered. She pulled Juturna into an embrace. “Why?” she asked. “Answer me that? Why, when you have so much? When you have been born to wealth and beauty and all the luxuries that a person could wish for, when you are so very blessed in all the treasures of mankind, why, Juturna, why would you step thus into the shadows?”

“Because you weren’t happy, and neither was he,” Juturna said, as she rested her head upon Camilla’s shoulder.

“I never asked you to do this,” Camilla said. “My happiness…this brings me no joy.”

“No,” Juturna agreed, “but it will bring Turnus peace, I hope. I…I genuinely and truly believe that he has the vision this country needs. He will make us a second Atlas if he is given the opportunity, and with all that Mistral has that Atlas has not, combining our abundant resources with Atlesian virtues…he will see the glory of Mistral renewed in ways that the Council and the Steward and Pyrrha could never imagine. Anything less than that would dishonour this country and bring it to shame.”

Camilla chuckled. “So you’re a Mistralian patriot now?”

“No,” Juturna replied. “I just love my brother.”

Camilla was quiet for a moment. “Do you remember when we were much younger, when I first came to live with you, and I used to sleep at your door?”

It was Juturna’s turn to chuckle at the memory. “You thought that you had to prove to Dad that you were worth keeping. You know that was never true, right?”

“I know,” Camilla agreed. “But now…would you mind if I went back to that, just while our guests are here?”

Juturna frowned. “You want to…sleep on the floor?”

“For a little while,” Camilla murmured. “So long as the monsters are here.”

Autumn Blaze stood in the hallway, cradling a golden statue of not insubstantial size, a statue of a kirin if Pyrrha’s eyes did not mistake her.

“Pyrrha, I know that this is sudden,” Autumn said, “but I need to go home and get this statue back to my village as quickly as possible so I’m going to need a little bit of time off.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, even though she didn’t really understand what was going on. “But...your village?”

“This is our guardian,” Autumn Blaze said, holding the statue aloft a little bit. “Once I get him back home, then we won’t need a vow of silence to keep the grimm away, and people will be able to talk again!” She gasped. “Sunflare will be able to laugh again, and Rain Shine will be able to sing her beautiful harmonies, and oh, Pyrrha, before I forget, could I maybe borrow a couple of your friends to help escort me home? I’m worried there might be some angry gangsters looking to get their stolen statue back.”

Pyrrha leaned sideways just a little, so that she could see behind Autumn to where Nora, Swift Foot, Ditzy, and Neptune stood attempting to appear nonchalant.

Pyrrha asked, “Would someone mind explaining to me just what has been going on while I’ve been out?”

Time Off

Time Off

Pyrrha walked out of the shower.

It had been a long time since she had had a good, long shower like that. Lately, even when she wasn’t up all night on stand-by, she had to wash so quickly in case there was an emergency that it felt as though she hadn’t been allowed to luxuriate in the act of cleaning since she left Beacon. She hadn’t been allowed to just stand under the hot water, letting it run through her hair and trickle down her skin; hadn’t been allowed to feel it washing all her cares away along with the sweat and the grime; hadn’t had time to rub in the expensive shampoo that left her hair smelling of jasmine, rose, and frankincense; hadn’t had time to condition. But she had time now, thanks to Terri-Belle and the knowledge that if anything else happened today, the Imperial Guard would take care of it.

It felt good to have allies. It felt good to be able to idle away under the water that streamed down upon her and not feel immorally self-indulgent for it. It felt good to be able to take some time to herself, trusting in someone else to take care of the world while she was preoccupied.

It almost felt like being back at Beacon.

Of course, the situation wasn’t quite that rosy. There were problems with this new arrangement: inefficiencies that might cost lives before they were dealt with, this disgraceful deal that would be offered to the bandits. And of course, the threat of Salem – and her followers firmly ensconced within the walls of Mistral – still loomed over them. But for now, just for today, she could put aside the leader of the Myrmidons, put aside the Champion of Mistral, and just be Pyrrha Nikos as she luxuriated in the shower, preparing to go out with her fiancé.

Go out and only slightly belatedly celebrate their engagement. Their engagement! With all that had happened over the last couple of days, the shine had barely even started to come off the news. She was engaged! She wanted to skip down the street shouting it for everyone to hear.

Hopefully, she would manage to maintain her composure once she and Jaune actually left the house.

She said hopefully, but there was a small part of her that rather wanted to skip down the street yelling to everyone that she was engaged to be married. People did seem to be so interested in her business, after all.

Eventually, having made up for all the time that she felt she had lost in all of those quick-changes and hasty washes on stand-by, Pyrrha climbed out of the shower, dried herself off – taking a long time to dry herself off with a nice, warm, fluffy towel was another little pleasure that had been denied to Pyrrha recently – and wrapped another towel around herself as she emerged into the bedroom.

Nora and Arslan were waiting for her. Arslan was leaning against the wall, drumming against it with her fingers, while Nora was sitting on the bed, holding the dress that Pyrrha had chosen.

“Is this what you’re going to wear, Pyrrha?” she asked. “It looks like something from Mantle after the Great War.”

“Yes, I believe that was the inspiration,” Pyrrha replied. “Rainbow Dash’s friend Rarity found out that I find that style quite pretty and made me a few things after the fashion. I wouldn’t wear something like that all the time, and I’m not going to bother with the gloves, but… I think it looks rather nice, and it’s not inappropriate.”

Nora examined the red dress critically. “I guess not,” she admitted. “I mean, I wouldn’t wear anything like this, but you’ve always had more of a girly side than some of us.”

“I always thought that was just part of your ‘princess’ brand,” Arslan said, “but you really enjoy it, don’t you?”

“Upon occasion,” Pyrrha said. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Arslan shook her head. “It would be pretty stupid to complain about your fashion sense when there is so much going on that deserves to be complained about far more.”

“Are you talking about my decision to work with the Council?”

“I’m talking about the Council’s decision to work with the people we’ve been fighting for the past three months,” Arslan replied. She paused. “Was Kurt at the meeting when this was announced?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “She had things to say about it too and said that you’d feel the same.”

“She still knows me that well, then,” Arslan muttered. She bit her lip, a look of shame crossing her face. “When me and Kurt were little – well, when we were younger than we are now, anyway – there was this guy named Mister Hong, he owned a laundrette a couple of streets from where we lived, and Kurt and me…” Arslan’s whole body shifted uncomfortably. “We used to stand across the street and threaten to throw bricks in his windows unless he paid us not to. We used to call it 'guarding his store.'” Arslan huffed. “I’m not proud of it. When I got my first big payday, I gave half of it to old Mister Hong to apologise for being such an ass when I was a kid. He sold the laundrette, and I think he moved to Kuchinashi.”

“All’s well that ends well?” Nora suggested.

“I hope so,” Arslan muttered. “The point is that any bandit who takes this pardon is just going to be playing ‘guard your village’ with the Council; give us money, or we’ll start breaking things.”

“I fear there is some force in what you say,” Pyrrha agreed, “but what can we do about it? The decision has been made. I daresay that couriers will be despatched soon to spread the word.”

“Maybe the bandits will eat all the messengers without bothering to hear the message?” Nora suggested.

“I’m not sure that I feel quite comfortable wishing death on people,” Pyrrha murmured. She frowned. “Eat them?”

Nora shrugged. “I’m sure it happens sometimes.”

“Not too often, I hope,” Pyrrha replied, with a slight shudder. “What do you think of this?”

Nora did not immediately reply. She looked like she would; she opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed her mouth again, waited a little bit, then opened her mouth, only to – once again – not say anything. She repeated this two more times before she finally said, “I mean, it’s not good, but it’s hard for us to complain too much when we’re talking about places that were too far away for us to protect. I’m more worried about the fact that we can’t do anything without authorisation from Captain Mohawk. What if we have to do something to stop Salem? What if someone tries to get the Relic of Knowledge?”

“Then I suppose we’ll either have to be very discrete or be prepared to face the consequences of our actions,” Pyrrha said. “Or try to be the first and be prepared for the second.”

“Hmm,” Nora muttered. “That’s not a great answer.”

“No, but it is an honest one,” said Pyrrha.

“I guess,” Nora grumbled. “But hey! No more talking business; tonight is supposed to be our day off! Finally, we get to have some fun around here.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Yes, it has been a long time, hasn’t it?” She considered. “I’m going out with Jaune tonight, but Terri-Belle did say that the Imperial Guard would cover the region for the next couple of days. Assuming nothing changes, why don’t we go out tomorrow, us girls?”

“Ooh, hen night rehearsal,” Nora declared eagerly. “Love it!”

“Just the three of us?”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha said. “Or we could invite more, if you’d prefer. Think about it, both of you. Do either of you have any plans for today or tonight?”

Nora slumped back onto Pyrrha’s bed with a weary sigh. “I wish.”

Pyrrha’s look was sympathetic, and so was her tone even as she said, “Dare I say you need to practice what you preach, Nora? I’ve heard about the advice you gave to Jaune.”

“It’s always easier to give advice than to follow it,” Nora groaned. “Besides, I’m following your playbook, remember? Only ‘wait around for the idiot to notice me’ isn’t working?” Nora tilted her head backwards to look at Arslan. “Any advice?”

“I… am exactly the wrong person to ask about this,” Arslan said. “But I do have plans. Nadir, Bolin, and I need to have a talk.”

“You’re exactly the wrong person to ask about this when you’re dating two guys?” Nora demanded.

“They’re my ex-teammates, and it’s not a date,” Arslan replied sharply. “We’ve just got a lot to talk about.”

“Then I wish you luck with that,” Pyrrha said.

Arslan nodded. “Good luck to you, too, P-money.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “I… I’m really looking forward to this.”

Pyrrha was getting ready, so Jaune waited for her in the study.

He himself had already changed out of his armour and his Pumpkin Pete hoodie and put on a yellow short sleeved button-up shirt with a dark casual jacket on over the top. He’d changed his jeans too, although it wasn't obvious because he’d changed them for… just another pair of jeans.

He was only casually dressed because it was still only the early afternoon; he and Pyrrha were going to go out for lunch, seeing as they had free time as an unexpected benefit of Terri-Belle’s generosity. They were also going out for dinner and the ballet later that evening, at which point he would dress up a little more, but for now, he felt that this was fine.

Whether he would still feel that way when he saw what Pyrrha had done was another matter. She had been some time already, making Jaune a little nervous that he had misunderstood things and ought to have dressed up more.

He didn’t feel too uneasy though, as Pyrrha wasn’t the kind to hold it against him if he was a little underdressed. She wasn’t that kind of girl at all.

While he waited for her, he got a little more work done. Just because they had more allies in the fight didn’t mean that the fight was over, after all. There was still so much that they didn’t understand.

There was a knock on the door.

Jaune stood up. “Pyrrha?”

The voice that came from the other side of the door belonged to Swift Foot. “No such luck,” she said, “but can I come in anyway?”

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said, and he stayed on his feet as the door opened and Swift Foot walked in, still wearing her armour. “You know, given the news, you could probably take that off.”

Swift Foot grinned. “I could, but in my zeal to join the great adventure I didn’t bring any other clothes with me.”

“Right,” Jaune said, with a sympathetic wince. “But now that we’re all friends, I’m sure that you could go and pick something up from the palace. That is, if you want to stick around.”

Swift Foot’s eyebrows rose, disappearing amidst her mass of hair. “Why wouldn’t I want to stick around?”

“No reason,” Jaune replied. “It’s just that you came here because you weren’t in the fight, but now your family is so in the fight that your eldest sister is leading it and another of your sisters is captain of the Imperial Guard, so-”

“So you’re telling me to go back, grovel to my sisters, and ask to fight alongside them?” Swift Foot finished for him.

“No,” Jaune said. “If you want to stay here, then you can, by all means. I just meant that if you want to go home instead, then you can do that too. There’s nothing keeping you here.”

“Nothing… except my will,” Swift Foot murmured, glancing away from Jaune as she ran one hand through her hair. “I think that I would rather stay, if it is all the same to you and Pyrrha. My family…” she trailed off. “So, you and Pyrrha are taking advantage of your new liberty?”

“We might as well,” Jaune replied. “We all might as well. I doubt that we’re the only ones who are taking advantage of not being on any kind of stand-by.”

“No, the house is going to be nearly empty,” Swift Foot said. She looked at Jaune. “You’re a lucky man,” she told him.

Jaune chuckled. “Everybody always tells me that, as though they’re afraid that I’m not well aware already.”

There was a touch of amusement in Swift Foot’s voice as she asked, “Does it irritate you?”

“Not really,” Jaune said. “Not from most people. I mean… I totally get it. I mean, I ama really lucky guy. Pyrrha is… gods, where do I even start with how great she is?”

“Yeah,” Swift Foot agreed, her voice mild and gentle. “She really is, isn’t she?”

Something about the way that she said it, the almost wistful tone in her voice, made Jaune’s eyes narrow just a little. “Did you come in to tell me that I’ve got competition?”

Swift Foot let out a bark of laughter. “You might, but not from me. I am not Pyrrha’s type. And yet… she intrigues me.”

Jaune frowned. “How do you mean? Um, would you like to sit down?”

“Thank you,” Swift Foot murmured, as she took the seat in front of the desk. Jaune, likewise, sat down.

Swift Foot crossed her legs and clasped her hands around her knee. “You know, don’t you?” she asked. “You know all her secrets.”

Jaune considered his reply. “The ones she’s keeping from most people,” he said. “But if you expect me to tell you what they are-”

“Don’t worry; I’m not such a fool that I’d expect you to betray the confidence of your betrothed,” Swift Foot assured him. “I just… I came here because I knew that Pyrrha – that all of you – were doing good, but at the same time, I was fully prepared to find out that there was more going on.”

“You were fully prepared to find out that Pyrrha was increasing her popularity in preparation for a coup attempt?” Jaune suggested.

Swift Foot’s lips twitched. “I had considered the possibility. I’m not the only one.”

“No, but you might be the only person entertaining the idea who came to join up with us anyway,” Jaune pointed out.

“As I told you, you were doing good for the Kingdom of Mistral, and that mattered to me,” Swift Foot explained. “It mattered more than your future plans. If those plans turned out to be directed at the political advancement of Pyrrha Nikos, then I could, in good honour, decide whether I wished to stand with you or against you.”

“You mean you might have stood with us?” Jaune said.

“I might yet.”

“Except that you won’t have to because we’re not planning anything of the sort,” Jaune added quickly.

Swift Foot’s smile hung dangerously close to a smirk. “No,” she said. “Of course not.”

“I’m serious,” Jaune declared. “Pyrrha harbours no ambitions for the throne of Mistral; none whatsoever. Pyrrha…”

“Doesn’t have an ambitious bone in her body.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jaune said softly, “but Pyrrha’s ambitions are of a different kind. A more selfless kind.” He shook his head. “I’m still kind of hung up on the fact that you might have been on our side if we’d been planning the kind of nonsense that some people seem to suspect we’re planning.”

Swift Foot shrugged. “My father’s position was passed down to him from his father, who had it from his mother. Might we not call him King instead of Steward?”

“The Steward can be outvoted,” Jaune reminded her.

“You don’t have a passion for ancient history, I take it?”

“Um, no,” Jaune admitted. “Why?”

“Because if you did, you’d know that there are plenty of examples of kingdoms where the monarch did not enjoy absolute power. I can still remember Terri-Belle asking how many years needs it to make a Steward an Empress, if the Empress desires it not, when we were both a little younger. Let’s be honest, the only reason we don’t have a monarchy is that the Last King of Vale intimated that we would get more lenient peace terms without one. But a republic has little claim upon the imagination of our culture, nor does it sit easily with our society.”

“Some people seem very determined to defend it,” Jaune replied.

Swift Foot laughed. “Make no mistake, Jaune Arc, those who prate the loudest about the need to defend our free commonwealth would crown themselves in a heart’s beating if they thought they could. We are a society driven to outdo one another, and what says ‘I am set above you, so far above you cannot touch me’ more than a crown?”

“‘And hold your head up high above all others,’” Jaune murmured, remembering the words that Pyrrha had quoted to him.

“Exactly,” Swift Foot said. “A monarchy is the historical natural state of our kingdom’s governance. Why should we be constrained in the ordering of our kingdom - our kingdom - by the will of a Valishman many years dead?”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Jaune asked. “I mean… I feel as though I probably ought to make some kind of robust defence of the system but, honestly… knock yourself out. If your father wants to put a crown upon his head and call himself king or emperor, then so be it. I’m not sure how Pyrrha feels about the institution more generally, but if the people cried out for a king to lead them, I don’t think she’d be upset about it – provided that it wasn’t her.”

“Because her ambitions do not that way tend,” Swift Foot paraphrased.

“Precisely,” Jaune confirmed.

“All that she is,” Swift Foot mused. “How far she is set above any of the rest of us, and still, she does not seek the power that would fall into her hands like a ripe plum the moment that she opened her hand to it?”

“No,” Jaune declared. “That’s not who Pyrrha is.”

“She is instead someone who seeks to do good… merely for goodness’ sake?” Swift Foot asked. “Out of mere righteousness?”

“She’s a hero,” Jaune replied. “Isn’t that what a hero does?”

“Not if you actually read the stories,” Swift Foot replied, with a certain grim humour in her voice, “but with Pyrrha… I could almost believe it.”

“Only almost?”

“If it were true, it would make her one in a million,” Swift Foot said.

“She is,” Jaune replied. “Although in that way… I’ve been very fortunate in that regard.”

“Hmm,” Swift Foot mused. “Once more, I say you are a lucky man, Jaune Arc.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Swift Foot chuckled. “Be honest? Does it annoy you?”

“Only when it’s…” Jaune paused to collect his words. “Only when… sometimes. I’m not sure I could explain when it is and when it isn’t.”

“She is the daughter of Mistral,” Swift Foot said. “She has lived her life in the view of the city so that many of our people know her better than they know their nieces and nephews. You must allow us a mingling of pride and protectiveness.”

“I do,” Jaune said. “It only bothers me when…”

“When it is used not to imply her fine qualities but your lack thereof?” Swift Foot suggested.

Jaune considered that, slowly nodding his head. “Yes, pretty much that.”

“Understandable,” Swift Foot allowed. “For what it’s worth… I think she’s as lucky as you are.”

Jaune stopped for a second, stunned into silence. “That’s… the first time anyone has ever said that to me.”

Swift Foot smiled. “Neither of you saw me, but I was at that party a year ago that my father hosted, and I saw you. My sisters were away – and I can’t say that I wasn’t glad that at least two of them weren’t around – hunting down grimm near Higanbana. I was standing alone, ignored, forgotten, and I looked over and there, across the courtyard, I saw that the great Pyrrha Nikos was in the exact same position as I was. She looked… it was like gazing into a mirror. And then you came over to her, and it was as though a transformation came over her. And I was so… I wished that someone would come over to me and rescue me, the way you rescued her. But no one did.”

Jaune wasn’t sure how to reply to that. “I… I’m sorry,” he murmured, knowing how inadequate it sounded.

“Don’t be,” Swift Foot said quickly. “You have too much to be happy about to be sorry.”

“I know,” Jaune said, “but, at the same time-”

The door opened. “Jaune?” Pyrrha said, as she stepped inside. “Is there-? Oh, hello, Swift Foot.”

Swift Foot got to her feet. “Pyrrha,” she said. “Jaune and I were just chatting while he waited for you.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune?”

Jaune made a kind of noise that might have passed for communication amongst some primitive tribes living in caves in some bygone era but which was in no way recognisable as modern speech.

Pyrrha was wearing a red, tea length, one piece dress with a sweetheart neckline and yellow flowers adorning the shoulder straps; a golden belt encircled her waist before the skirt flared out in an A-line around her legs, while spindly silver sandals gripped her feet and legs tightly. Her engagement ring gleamed upon her finger, while a pair of sapphire teardrop earrings hung from her ears – she wasn’t wearing her circlet or the emerald drops that usually dangled from it – and she had exchanged the black armband that she had worn since returning to Mistral for the gold one that she had worn at Beacon. Her hair was loose, unbound and descending to the level of her waist in gentle curls. Rich red gloss shimmered upon her lips.

She was, not to put too fine a point upon it, gorgeous.

“Too much?” Pyrrha wondered in an apologetic tone.

“Pyrrha, please,” Swift Foot said. “I don’t believe every word to drop from the lips of my sister Blonn Di, but I believe her when she says that there is no such thing as ‘too much.’” She looked at Jaune with a smirk. “It’s ironic that we were discussing the transformation that he effected on you, when you’ve just transformed him from interlocutor to mush mouth.”

“I’m fine,” Jaune insisted. “I just… you were worth the wait.”

Pyrrha beamed radiantly. “I’m so glad to hear it. So, what were you two talking about?”

“You,” Swift Foot informed her baldly. “Jaune here was just singing your praises.”

Pyrrha looked at him. “Really?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jaune said. “Unless you’re impressed, in which case, it was exactly like it sounds.”

Pyrrha giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “But, seriously-“

“Seriously, we really were talking about you,” Swift Foot maintained. “All that you have and all that you could be if only you wished it.”

“But I don’t,” Pyrrha replied. “As I told you-”

“You are not what my father fears,” Swift Foot murmured. “Nor what so many in Mistral hope you to be.”

“There is nothing I can do about that,” Pyrrha said. She hesitated. “Nothing that I am willing to do any longer. I… I can only be what I am, and if that is not good enough, then… I am sorry.”

“You have no need to apologise to me,” Swift Foot told her. “As I was saying to Jaune, I might have followed you even to the steps of the Petal Throne, but if that is not your road, then I have no cause to complain of it. I will follow you against the grimm nevertheless.” She bowed her head. “And now that you are here… I’ll leave you to it.”

Pyrrha smiled as Jaune pulled out her chair for her. “Such a gentleman,” she observed playfully.

“I’m learning,” Jaune said with a smile. “Slowly, but I’m learning.”

Pyrrha giggled quietly as she sat down, then waited for Jaune to take his seat in turn. His chair scraped over the stone just a little, and again as he pulled it back in towards the round wooden table.

They were sat just outside an artisanal café, partially shielded from the pleasant sunshine by a red awning that jutted out from the wall. A waitress in a white cheongsam with a blue floral pattern approached, bowing her head to them as she placed two menus down onto the table.

“Welcome,” she said. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Could we have some water while we look at the menu?” Pyrrha asked.

“Of course,” the waitress said. “I’ll bring it right away.” She turned and walked briskly back inside the building.

Pyrrha resolutely ignored the photographer taking pictures of her and Jaune from the other side of the street. A part of her was tempted to whip his scroll out of his hands with her semblance, but that would have seemed rather petulant of her, let alone spoiled the mood, which she was determined not to do. So she ignored it. It was nothing that would – or could – dent her happiness today.

She sighed. “It feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Not to have to worry, if only for a little while.”

“It feels great to have some time to ourselves,” Jaune agreed.

“To be able to leave things for others to take care of,” Pyrrha continued. “It almost feels like…”

“Like being back at Beacon?” Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha nodded. “Yes. Almost.” Like being at Beacon, except our friends aren’t here. She shook her head. “But we didn’t come here to talk about that, did we? We came here- oh, thank you,” she said, as their water was brought to them.

“Of course. Have you chosen your order yet?” the waitress asked.

They hadn’t even opened the menus. “Not yet, I’m afraid,” Pyrrha murmured, as she opened the little red book, and Jaune did likewise.

“Very well,” the waitress replied, before moving to another table.

“You realise she probably won’t check on us for another twenty minutes at least?” Jaune said.

“Does that matter?” Pyrrha replied. “It’s not as though we have anywhere better to be.”

Jaune smiled as he reached across the table and grabbed one of her hands. “No,” he agreed. “I guess we don’t.” He glanced down at the menu. “Do you know what’s good here?”

“Sencha is very safe and ordinary, but I’m quite fond of it,” Pyrrha replied. She hesitated. “Um, Jaune… there’s something that I need to discuss with you.”

Jaune looked up at her. “'Discuss'? That sounds serious.”

“It… I suppose it is,” Pyrrha admitted. “Which might make it a little inappropriate, except that it concerns our wedding. More specifically… it concerns… our name after we’re married.”

“You mean the fact that I’m going to take your name,” Jaune predicted.

Pyrrha’s eyes widened, if only momentarily. “You knew? Did my mother tell you? I hope that she didn’t-”

“Your mother didn’t say anything,” Jaune assured her. “Like I said, I’m learning, slowly, but I am learning. You’re Pyrrha Nikos, and your family founded this city. That matters to people, and even if it didn’t… I know that your family’s history is important to you. I know that you draw strength from it.”

Pyrrha wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He had pre-empted her so completely that he had rendered her speechless. “You… you’re taking this very well.”

Jaune beamed at her. “It’s just a name.”

“It’s your name.”

“And you’re my fiancée,” Jaune replied. He squeezed her hand. “And I’m honoured to become a part of your family. Besides, there are plenty of other Arcs to carry on the name, right?”

Pyrrha looked into his eyes, her heart melting. She glanced down at their hands, joined together, his thumb resting upon the sapphire that was set into her ring. “You’re being so wonderful about this that it makes me feel rather selfish. You’ve already left your home and crossed the ocean for me, and now, you’re giving up your name as well?”

“Would you rather I puff out my chest and demand that you give up your name for me?” Jaune asked, an undercurrent of laughter in his voice. “If we fought about this, would it be easier for you to feel righteous?”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with her free hand as she laughed. “Well, when you put it like that, I suppose, instead of complaining, I should be grateful that you’re so understanding about… about everything.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude, future Mrs Nikos,” Jaune teased.

Pyrrha shook her head, her long red hair swaying gently back and forth. “The future Mrs Arc-Nikos.”

Jaune’s eyebrows rose. “'Arc-Nikos'?”

“It might sound completely absurd,” Pyrrha admitted, “but the fact that you’re so very willing to give up your name… is exactly the reason I can’t just take it from you.”

“Jaune Arc-Nikos,” Jaune murmured. “Jaune and Pyrrha Arc-Nikos.”

“Not exactly short and sweet,” Pyrrha admitted.

“But I love it,” Jaune finished.

Pyrrha’s lips twitched upwards. “And so do I.”

“And hey,” Jaune said, “that’s our first decision out of the way. If we can get through them all like that, then this whole thing will be a piece of cake.”

“Some decisions are easier than others,” Pyrrha reminded him. “Some decisions… I don’t know when we ought to get married. I’ve really no idea. Or rather… I suppose you might say that I have two ideas fighting in my mind. One part of me wants to drag you away from this table, find a notary, and get married right now, this instant, while we have the chance. And another part of me… another part of me would like to hold out, hope the storm passes, and that we are granted enough peace for us to have the wedding of our dreams.”

“The wedding of your dreams,” Jaune corrected.

“It’s your wedding too, Jaune,” Pyrrha replied, with a touch of reproach in her voice. “You’re allowed to have some ideas; in fact, I’d welcome them.”

“I know,” Jaune replied. “But the way you said 'dreams,' as if you’d been planning it for years.”

“Well, it’s not as if I have binders or anything,” Pyrrha insisted good-naturedly. “And, to be honest, it wasn’t until I came to Beacon that I really knew what I wanted out of my wedding.”

Jaune waited for her to continue. When she did not, he prompted, “Go on.”

Pyrrha felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. “Well… I knew I wanted you as the groom, to begin with.”

“Obviously,” Jaune said, with faux confidence, as with his free hand he gestured to himself up and down.

Pyrrha chuckled. “And I… I wanted Sunset and Ruby to help me get ready, to weave flowers into my hair and walk behind me.” She glanced down at the table in front of her. “I suppose we’ll have to resign ourselves to the fact that we’re going to be getting married without our best friends there.”

“I guess,” Jaune agreed. “I mean, it’s not like they can come over from Vale any more than any of our Atlas friends could make it down, even if we could let them know. What are we supposed to do, send invitations?”

Pyrrha snorted. “But we have each other, and that means… even if it isn’t the wedding of my dreams, it will still be the happiest day of my life to become your wife.” She paused. “But really, you have no ideas at all?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Jaune admitted. “I mean, when I was… before I left for Beacon, or before I finally made up my mind that I was going to go to Beacon, I… I don’t know, I suppose I thought I might get married, but if you were to ask me who I’d be marrying, I’d have had to admit that I couldn’t imagine any of the local girls being willing to marry me. And then at Beacon, with Weiss… marriage wasn’t really on my mind back then, and then after that… I guess I just didn’t think about it when we were going out. There was always something else going on, and it wasn’t until Kendal gave me the ring that… I suppose, if I had thought about it, I would have said that I would have liked my family to be there to see it. But they’re not going to be there any more than Ruby or Sunset or Penny will be.”

“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha murmured. “Perhaps your sister in Argus-“

“I couldn’t ask them to make that trip, not now,” Jaune replied. “It’s far too dangerous, and they have Adrian to worry about.”

“No, I suppose it would be a great deal to ask, with the world in its present condition,” Pyrrha agreed. “So, our wedding will be attended by my mother and our new comrades… unless you’d rather a much smaller ceremony?”

“I’m learning, but not that fast,” Jaune said. “What is small or large in Mistral?”

“It depends; there are a lot of different cultures in Mistral,” Pyrrha said. “We are a cultural melting pot in many ways.”

“I’d say it’s more of a salad bowl,” Jaune replied. “I haven’t seen all that much melting since I’ve been here.”

“No, you make a very good point,” Pyrrha said. “Case in point, a traditional wedding for Ren would be quite different from a traditional wedding for Nora.” She paused. “I wonder how they’ll address that.”

Jaune was taking a sip of water when she said that, and he almost choked upon it. “Ren? Ren and Nora? I didn’t know they were even-”

“They’re not,” Pyrrha allowed. “But Nora certainly wouldn’t say no.”

Jaune nodded. “I’m not surprised. When she was giving me advice, it certainly sounded as though she wasn’t talking just about me.”

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to be of much help when she asked me for advice,” Pyrrha confessed, “and it’s so hard to tell how Ren feels because, well…”

“It’s Ren,” Jaune muttered.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha agreed. “Perhaps you could have a word with him?”

Jaune looked a little alarmed. “I’m not sure that I’ve got any standing to be giving anybody advice on getting into relationships.”

“You managed to get into this relationship rather easily,” Pyrrha reminded him. “But you’re right, we probably shouldn’t interfere.” If Sunset had told Jaune how she, Pyrrha, had felt about him after Pyrrha had confessed her feelings on the train, then she probably would have been mortified. Certainly, she would have been outraged at the betrayal of her confidence. True, if things had worked out, then she would have certainly forgiven Sunset, but if it hadn’t… if Ren didn’t feel the same way as Nora… no doubt that was why Nora was so mired in hesitation: they were such good friends, and she feared to jeopardise that by venturing into territory he might not want to follow.

Poor Nora. All I can do is hope that it works out for you.

"In any case," Pyrrha continued, "my point is that there really isn't any such thing as a traditional Mistralian wedding, or rather, there are so many different traditional Mistralian weddings. Besides, we might prefer a more Valish or Atlesian ceremony. They are… very romantic after all."

"Why not both?" Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha blinked. "Two wedding ceremonies? That might be a little extravagant, don't you think?"

Jaune chuckled. "No, I mean, we could mix and match. You're from Mistral, but I'm from Vale, and you did just say that it was our wedding. A bit of one, a little of the other, maybe a touch of something else, that wouldn't be so bad, right? Would anyone complain?"

"Would we care if they did?" Pyrrha countered. "A mix and match," she mused. "Some of one and some of the other. Yes, that… that sounds quite lovely."

It was so lovely, in fact, that they spent a great deal of time discussing it, albeit in a rather aimless fashion, with frequent digressions and diversions and passing changes of the subject before they returned, in the end, back to the subject of the wedding. They didn't make much progress beyond their initial intent: they hadn't set a date, let alone settled on any of the other details that would need to be nailed down, but in a way, that wasn't really the point. The point was that, for the first time since coming – returning, in Pyrrha's case – to Mistral, they had the freedom to just sit down and talk about this – talk about their wedding, talk about themselves, talk about their friends – without worrying that the sky might fall or waiting to get a call that somewhere was under attack and crying out for help. For a little while, they were not the Champion of Mistral and her General; today, they were just Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos, young and in love and engaged to be married.

And it felt wonderful.

Pyrrha had told Swift Foot - and more than once - that she, Pyrrha, was not what Lord Diomedes feared her to be. That she had uttered such words was of no great surprise to Swift Foot; in many circumstances, she would have dismissed them with a simple "well, you would say that, wouldn't you?" But when it came to Pyrrha Nikos… what was most intriguing to Swift Foot were the ways in which she was not what Swift Foot had thought to find within the House of Nikos and the ways in which she was exactly what she seemed – or it might be better said, presented herself, or at least had herself presented – to be.

She had come here thinking to find a would-be tyrant, and instead, she had found… what? What was Pyrrha Nikos, who was she? The obvious answers suggested that there was nothing to fear and much to wonder at.

Swift Foot had read Autumn Blaze's ever-expanding account of the adventures of the Myrmidons, but not to learn anything about the people she would be meeting on her mission; she understood – or thought she had understood – the relationship between Autumn Blaze and Pyrrha Nikos. In the same way that you could not look at an old painting and imagine that you were getting an accurate likeness of the subject, so too Autumn's depiction of the Princess Without a Crown ought to have been her very best self, at the least, if it was not an outright fabrication. No one could be as Pyrrha Nikos was held up to Mistral's adoration: a force of nature on the battlefield, yet one who had not a single drop of rage within her spirit, mild and gentle, her ears ever open to good counsel, who led through being well-beloved by those who followed her. Swift Foot had not known Pyrrha before she came here; she only knew of her reputation, she had seen her once or twice across a crowded room at this or that social function, and while she harboured no ill-will towards her, nor did she rate her as the paragon that sprung from Autumn's posts. No doubt, she wished to appear lordly and generous as a queen of old, but in desperate hours, generosity might be repaid with death, and surely, Pyrrha could not be blind to that fact. This was no story of demigods and heroes, this was no fairytale; this was Mistral, a city as stained with dirt as it was beautiful, where the darkness was as deep as the light shone brightly, and surely, no one who had to move in that real, stained, dirty city could be as free from dirt as Pyrrha was.

Swift Foot had come to the House of Nikos thinking to find not a fraud – her achievements were real enough, and Swift Foot was even willing to concede that there might be, in part, a noble motive underpinning them – but a human being, who fell short of the high standards which they set for themselves yet sought to hide the fact behind flattering words and good press.

She was beginning to think that if Pyrrha fell short of her own standards, it was only because those standards were too high.

Admittedly, Swift Foot had not been here long, but in the short time that she had known her, Pyrrha had seemed in nature to be exactly as she was depicted: always kind, never cowardly or cruel, rarely angry and then such a very mild kind of anger – and that directed only at what most would agree to be justified targets, like the brigands preying upon the villages and towns of Mistral – that it was barely worthy of the word. From the inquiries that Swift Foot had made amongst the Myrmidons – and she had risked seeming a little too direct at times because she'd been unable to believe what she was hearing – it seemed her greatest fault in conduct was a certain melancholy that clung to her at times in the face of the odds against them, and which undercut some of her efforts to conjure hope in the hearts of her followers. Leaving aside that said melancholy had been dispelled at present by the efforts of Jaune Arc, Swift Foot was not inclined to call that a fault; rather, she was of the opinion that a hero should be melancholy. One who is invulnerable in body must be vulnerable in spirit, or they would be untouchable.

The fact that she was also the Fall Maiden, possessed of ancient magic bestowed upon her by… someone or something – who? What? That was something Swift Foot had not determined, nor was she entirely certain yet how to learn it – only added to the sense of a hero sprung out of some tale, a figure fashioned for a grander world than the one that Swift Foot lived in.

And yet, she did not seek the throne, the one thing that she was practically obligated to do by her birth and newfound situation as a people's darling at the head of a body of armed warriors sworn to her service and loyal in their hearts. Even when Swift Foot had tried her best to entrap Jaune Arc – incidentally, Swift Foot was beginning to think he must be more than the Valish chancer she had thought to find, taking advantage of Pyrrha's naivete; she was beginning to think he might actually care about her a great deal – the most he would concede was that the preservation of the republic was not one of his priorities. He had attributed that sentiment to Pyrrha as well, and although Swift Foot yet had doubts that Pyrrha would stand aside for any would-be monarch, she found herself increasingly believing that Pyrrha spoke true when she declaimed all ambition.

And not only for the obvious question of why, beloved as she was, in the public eye as she was, at the head of a gallant company as she was, touched by strange ethereal powers and possessed of magic as she was, she had not sought to sate ambition if she had it. If she reached for the throne, then it would be hers, while by waiting and doing nothing, well… all temporal glory was transient, the mob was fickle, and in the end, there would come an evening when they who had cheered her loudest in the morning would tear down the statues of those they had fawned upon and say to one another "'see what an ugly face she has! I never liked that girl!"' Delay did nought but put in doubt the success of her enterprise… or made it likely that she had no such desire in mind.

Her ambitions do not that way tend. I can well believe it.

This would have been so much easier if she were… ordinary.

Swift Foot had never in her brief life been one to believe in things; growing up in her father's house, she had seen precious little worth believing in. There was nothing inspiring about her father's machinations to maintain his own supremacy, about the vanity and casual malice of Shining Light and Blonn Di; Terri-Belle was her sister closest to being admirable, but even she was too workmanlike in her service to the kingdom, too willing to compromise herself in obedience to their father to inspire her younger sister. Somehow, Swift Foot doubted that Pyrrha had ever compromised herself in her entire life. She had defended the kingdom when no one else would, and done so, it would seem, out of sheer altruism. No other reasons suggested themselves, unless it was a certain sense of noblesse oblige.

Swift Foot had been sent into this house to destroy Pyrrha Nikos, to make her power crumble around her. And she could do it, too: she had not missed the look of jealousy on Arslan's face when Pyrrha unleashed the powers of the Fall Maiden; she had noted the way that Cicero grew snappish at any criticism of the Council; Lie Ren appeared to be in a perpetual ill-humour about something. There were fault lines upon which she could play… if she wished.

It would have been much easier to do so, had she not been confronted with someone whom, for the first time in her life, she felt that she might be able to believe in.

Unfortunately, she doubted that her father would see it the same way; in fact, she had a sinking feeling that if she attempted to explain it to him, then he would only become more afeared of Pyrrha Nikos and her influence. He already coveted her magic.

This was Swift Foot’s chance to prove herself to him. Her chance to vault over the heads of Blonn Di and Shining Light – both of whom were useless at anything requiring tact or subtlety – and be second only to Terri-Belle in the respect that came from being useful to their lord father. A chance for Swift Foot to show her quality.

If she wished to take it.

As she thought, Swift Foot allowed her feet to carry her towards the dojo. The house and grounds were practically empty; everyone was taking advantage of their liberty in some fashion or other, even if it was by putting a sock on the door, and she didn't expect to find anyone else training as she went into the dojo to work off some of her doubts.

But it was not empty. It was already occupied by Lie Ren, who was slashing at a wooden dummy with the blades on the ends of his StormFlowers, scoring the wood deeply with the metal tips.

He sensed her coming, stopping what he was doing and glancing towards her, his body quivering a little with weariness as he took deep breaths in and out.

"We have no need to worry about the call to battle," Swift Foot observed. "For once, you can do whatever you want, and yet, you choose to train. You are an unusual fellow."

Ren took a deep breath before he turned to face her. "I could say the same thing to you," he pointed out.

The corner of Swift Foot's lip twitched upwards. "You could," she allowed, "but I am much newer to this than you are. I haven't spent so long on stand-by, waiting, watching. My need for liberty is not so pressing."

"You should seize it nonetheless," Ren told her. "You don't know when you'll get another chance."

"I could say the same thing to you," echoed Swift Foot.

Ren turned his back on her. "I need to keep training," he said. "I'm not strong enough."

"Strong enough for what?" Swift Foot asked. "I've seen you fight; you are the least of Team Prawn but far from unskilled, and to call you the least of them is more to praise your comrades than to condemn you. And I think you're smart enough to know that. So what pursues you?"

Ren didn't reply. He made as if to resume his attack upon the wooden grimm.

"What are you doing here?" Swift Foot blurted out.

Ren lowered his weapons – and his hands – down to his sides. "I take it you don't mean in this dojo."

Swift Foot snorted. "No. You are correct in that."

"What makes you think it isn't the same reason you're here?" Ren asked.

"Because I am here for the honour of my family," Swift Foot replied. "I came here to uphold the standing of my name when no other Thrax would do likewise. I follow Pyrrha for the same reason that Pyrrha leads me: because the wealth and privilege and all the luxuries we have enjoyed are no more than unearned pretty baubles if we do not fight when Mistral calls on us in its hour of need. But you are no lord of Mistral, you come from no noble house, you are no scion of an ancient line. So why are you here? Why do you follow Pyrrha Nikos, in spite of the hostility of the Council and the risk to your life every time you venture out into the battlefield? Why do you follow where she leads?"

"It isn't only Pyrrha that holds me here," Ren muttered, walking away towards the far end of the dojo. He stopped, facing the wall and away from Swift Foot. "During the Battle of Vale, Nora and I lost our team leader; her name was Yang Xiao Long."

"Another Mistralian?" Swift Foot asked.

"No, she was born on a little island off the coast of Vale," Ren replied, "but I think she must have been of Mistralian descent. We didn't really discuss it. We… didn't really talk as much as we should have, as much as, with hindsight, I would have liked.

"Some teams – the most famous teams to attend the great academies – become like family. Some teammates fall in love, like Jaune and Pyrrha; others forge friendships that will last a lifetime. It was never like that with our team, but that doesn't mean that Yang didn't leave an impression on me. She was… fearless. Nothing would stop her; she would fight any battle no matter how desperate, meet any obstacle no matter how difficult; I don't know exactly how she died, but there is no doubt in my mind that she fought valiantly to the last.

"I didn't know Yang as well as I would like, but the memory of her courage keeps me moving forward," Ren said. "I have to go on, for both of us, and do whatever I can. Because that is what a huntsman does."

Swift Foot's brow furrowed very slightly. She thought – she suspected – that there was more to this than he was letting on; something, perhaps, that he did not feel comfortable sharing with a stranger. That was not to say that he had lied to her; he had not, or else he was a better liar than she gave him credit for. Rather, he had told her only as much as he felt safe to say. "So Pyrrha has nothing to do with it?"

"I think we both know that's not possible," Ren said.

Swift Foot nodded. "She… makes you want to be better, just so you can try and be half as good as she is."

"Indeed," Ren murmured.

Swift Foot drew her rhomphaia over her shoulder. "Would you care for a sparring partner? I'm more of a challenge than that ursa."

Ren turned around, his eyes narrow as they looked up and down.

Silently, he nodded and raised his StormFlowers.

It was called the Temple of Victory, and it rose on the western side of the Square of Heroes, positioned so that the white marble columns, the gold that decorated the roof, the bronze statues that stood at the top of the long row of steps leading up to the temple, all caught the rays of the morning sun as it rose in the east and gleamed effulgent in consequence. It wasn’t gleaming so much now, being a little late in the afternoon as it was, but there was still a little twinkle here and there as the sun began to set on the other side of the city.

In the old days – this was a pretty important place for tournament fighters, so Arslan knew more about it than about some other things – the temple had been where the great generals and conquerors of Mistral had dedicated the spoils of their victories. Whether they actually thought there was a goddess in there or they were just dedicating their triumphs to the city or both, Arslan didn’t know; she just knew that whenever a victorious general came home, they would ride in triumph through the streets, accompanied by a woman dressed and made up as Victory herself, and their chariot ride would always end up here, outside the steps of the temple.

She knew that because it was what happened to the tournament champion. Mistral didn’t have any victorious generals any more, not since the Great War ended, but when the regional tournaments were over, the victor would ride in a chariot, just like the warlords of old, accompanied by some young actress dressed as Victory, and they would be borne through the cheering crowds until they came here, to this temple, which had become a sort of hall of fame for the great fighters.

Four times, Arslan had watched Pyrrha ride in a chariot alongside Victory, her brow adorned by laurel wreaths; it was only now that she’d recently gotten to know her better that Arslan could begin to imagine how excruciating each one of those four triumphs must have been for P-money. Four times, Arslan had watched and felt a squirming sense of resentment in her stomach. She had dedicated her own spoils, of course; there was a spot in the temple that was just for Arslan Altan. But she had never gotten the triumph, and it had always rankled with her a little bit. She had always told herself "‘next year"’; next year was going to be her year, or the Vytal Festival was going to be it, or… or it was never going to happen now. She was never going to get that chariot ride.

But someone else will, because there’ll be a chariot ride, and there’ll be someone to dress as Victory, and there’ll be a Temple of Victory for them to be driven to the base of the steps of because I’ll have helped to keep this kingdom safe. And that’s worth it.

Arslan turned her eyes away from the temple; she wasn’t here for that, not today.

The square on which the temple stood was called the Square of Heroes for the obvious reason that it commemorated the great heroes of Mistral’s past. Past in the sense that they were all dead, at least. In the centre of the square rose Agrippa’s Column, with a statue of the Emperor who had conquered the northern territories on top; the corners of the square were marked with equestrian statues on thick stone plinths with names on them that Arslan didn’t know enough to recognise. And the square was lined on three sides – saving only the side on which the temple stood – with other statues, in bronze or gold or marble, statues of men and women on foot, warriors and generals, standing on modest plinths with their names and perhaps a few achievements inscribed on them.

It was one of those statues that they were here for now.

It was new, the newest statue to grace the square, having only just been completed in the last few days after months of work by the artists and the casters. It was a statue of Commander Yeoh, who had led the ill-fated Mistralian army to Vale and died alongside so many of her troops during the battle there. She looked very much as Arslan remembered her, when she had been approached by the commander to record a little piece in support of the troops: proud, confident, straight-backed. One hand reached for the sword she wore at her waist, and her face was turned slightly upwards toward the sky.

Georgia Yeoh

Commander of the Mistralian Expeditionary Force of 2121 CE

Perished at the Battle of Vale, fighting alongside her gallant soldiers

This monument to her and all the men and women who gave their lives in the Battle of Vale was paid for by the Yeoh family

Arslan glanced to her right, where Bolin stood; his hands were resting upon his staff, the butt of which was placed upon the stone of the square. She glanced to her left, where Nadir’s head was bowed, with a touch of water visible in his eyes.

This was not a monument to Reese, but at the same time, it was the closest thing that Reese Chloris would ever get. This statue was of Yeoh herself, but it didn’t only commemorate the commander but also all the other soldiers who had died at Vale but who weren’t "‘important"’ enough to get their own memorial.

The statue was of Yeoh, but the monument was to everyone who hadn’t come back from Vale, and that had to include Reese, even though she wasn’t a soldier.

Arslan frowned, looking down for a moment, turning her eyes away from the statue. “Reese… Reese told me once that in Atlas, they have a big statue where… where everyone who loses someone goes and sticks a photo of them, and that way… that way, it’s like the whole city is honouring them. Or something like that. She didn’t explain it very well, mostly because I don’t think she got it.” Reese had been born in Atlas, but she didn’t seem to have liked it there. When she got to Haven, she had started being more Mistralian than the Mistralians, complete with buying into all the anti-Atlas propaganda that got put out after the Breach. “We don’t have anything like that here,” Arslan continued, “but… maybe we should.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture of Reese. It had been torn out of a team photo, so it was obviously ripped around the edges, but it captured her with a grin on her face, which was more true to who she was than an official photo that caught her looking stuffy and too formal.

Arslan reached out and stuck the photograph onto Commander Yeoh’s plinth just beneath the words.

“She didn’t deserve to be here,” Bolin muttered.

“I know,” Arslan said softly.

“She ought to be standing with us,” Bolin continued.

“I know,” Arslan said, her voice sounding half dead.

“She shouldn’t-“

“I know, okay!” Arslan yelled, whirling around to face him. She stared at him for a moment, shame swiftly replacing the anger that had so briefly welled up inside of her. She looked away, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, you guys.”

She felt a hand upon her shoulder before she heard Nadir’s voice. “It’s not-“

“Yes, it is,” Arslan said, shrugging off his hand and taking a step away from them. “It isn’t even that I wasn’t a bad leader; it’s that I was barely even trying to be a leader at all. All I cared about was getting my shot in the one-vee-one rounds at the Vytal Festival. I didn’t even think about… about why we were supposed to have all come to Haven in the first place.” She slammed her fist into her open palm. “I never even asked you guys why you wanted to become huntsmen.”

The two boys were silent for a moment. It was Bolin who spoke first, in a voice that was small and a little ashamed. “Honestly?” he said. “I was bored at home. I thought this looked as though it might be fun.”

Arslan sniffed. “So you saw those ‘be a hero’ adverts, huh?”

Bolin nodded shamefacedly. “Something like that.”

"Nadir?" Arslan asked.

Nadir said nothing for a moment. "My father expected that I should."

Arslan nodded slowly. Nadir's father had passed away just before the start of the Vytal Festival; she knew that much, at least. "Well… wherever he is… I'm sure he's proud of you right now."

"I hope so," Nadir said softly.

"I know so," Arslan replied, with force in her tone. "Listen, I know that I was a terrible leader, but I also know that we – all of us – are doing a good thing here and now, with Pyrrha and the others. Something that your father and Reese and the whole city can be proud of. We're defending this kingdom against the darkness."

"Is that all we're doing?" Bolin murmured.

Arslan looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"We know that you know more than you're letting on," Bolin said. "Everyone knows that there's an inner circle around Pyrrha: you, Jaune, Ren, Nora, Sun, and Neptune."

"Not everybody likes it," Nadir added. "Sage and Scarlet feel left out, and they're not the only ones."

"Really?" Arslan replied. "And what about you guys? Do you feel left out?"

"Should we?" Bolin demanded. "Violet's excluded, so it's not the sub-commanders; for that matter, Nadir got to run point when the four attacks came in, but he hasn't been invited either-"

"That was just a one-time thing," Nadir said quietly. "It's no big deal."

"So what do you talk about?" Bolin continued. "Is it something that we should know? Something that we should worry about?"

Arslan was silent, pondering, wondering how she could answer him. I should have seen this coming. We all should have seen this coming. They hadn't exactly been discreet, even if discretion were possible in the situation they found themselves in. "You're right," she admitted. "There is an inner circle, and the people you named – me included – do know more than the rest of you. But I swear to you, on… Victory, on Reese's memory, on anything you like, nothing that I know puts you in any more danger than you accepted when you decided to join the Myrmidons. And if that's not enough for you... then I'm sorry, but I've got nothing more to offer."

Bolin didn't reply. Instead, it was Nadir who said, "You know, it's really sad, and so unfair, but Reese was the only one of us who you could call a true huntress."

"Yeah?" Arslan said. She'd never asked why Reese wanted to be a huntress either.

"She wanted to help people," Nadir explained. "She said… that she wanted to bring hope to the world. In Atlas… in Atlas, the huntresses swear to be a light in darkness, when all other lights go out. That's what she wanted to be."

"Of course she did," Arslan said. "You can take the girl out of Atlas, but as much as she might talk about how much she hated it…" She bowed her head. "I… I don't deserve to be your leader," she said. "And I'm not asking for the job back; I'm better off where I am, and you're better off without me, but I promise you both, I will honour Reese's memory."

"We all will," Bolin said, and Arslan felt him take her hand in his. Before she could say anything, she felt Nadir take her other hand.

The three of them stood, facing the memorial to the dead of Vale, looking down at Reese's face smiling out of the picture.

"She never got the chance to be a huntress," Arslan said. "But she will bring hope to the world, because we're going to do it for her, in her memory."

"In her memory," Bolin said.

"In her memory," Nadir whispered.

Arslan glanced towards the Temple of Victory, the building that had loomed so large and gleamed so effulgent in her imagination. She had never gotten the chance to ride in the chariot, and now… she never would.

She was set upon a different road. For Reese, for Mistral, for her family… and for her self-respect. Understanding the world better as she now did, knowing so much more as she now did… how could she not take a different path?

Pyrrha was right all along; the world is in peril, and we have to fight for it.

Can I do less?

She turned her eyes away from the temple and all it stood for.

Goodbye.

Swift Foot's sparring session with Ren had ended, and he had gone off… somewhere. He hadn't vouched where, exactly, he was going, and Swift Foot hadn't asked him either; he probably wouldn't have told her even if she had asked.

Still waters ran deep with that one, she could tell.

Still, she was too preoccupied with her own situation to spend much time considering what Lie Ren might be thinking or feeling or doing. It appeared that he had left the house, as almost everyone had, and who could blame them? Well, almost everyone amongst the Myrmidons. The maids were still here, but they paid her very little attention, and she paid them no mind at all as she made her way into the library.

Swift Foot herself could not have said exactly why she went there – she wasn't expecting to find the answers in a mouldering book of philosophy – but she had nowhere that she particularly wanted to go outside the house, and inside the house, the library was as good a place as any. The chairs were comfortable, and as she made her way past the high, towering bookshelves, she could see that there were a few books worth reading.

Swift Foot was just about to take one off the shelf when she heard someone sneeze on the other side of the shelf.

Intrigued - or more accurately, a little bored and with nothing better to do - Swift Foot glanced around the other side of the shelf to see Ditzy Doo, the Atlesian girl who seemed to have come here without a team to back her up or even any friends to fight alongside, sitting on the floor looking down at her scroll.

She glanced up at Swift Foot, or at least, she was probably looking at Swift Foot. It was hard to tell with those wall eyes. "Sorry," she said. "It's a little dusty in here."

"Don't worry; it's not as though you were making a racket," Swift Foot replied, in an easy tone. "I was just a little surprised to find anyone else in here."

"I thought about going to see the new robot movie," Ditzy explained. "But I… well, I… yeah."

Swift Foot's gaze took in the photo that Ditzy had up on her scroll: a classically handsome young man with striking blue eyes and hair to match, spiked upwards as if the wind was blowing through it. "Cute. Is that your boyfriend back home in Atlas?"

A blush rose to Ditzy's cheeks. "N-no!" she stammered, and she didn't just put the picture away, she outright deleted it from her scroll. "He's just… it doesn't matter any more."

Swift Foot's eyes narrowed. She hadn't missed – it was very hard to miss – the way that Ditzy stared after Neptune Vasilias. She leaned against the shelf. "So, did Neptune not want to go to the movie or did you not have the courage to ask?"

Ditzy's face got even redder. "How did you-"

"It wasn't hard to notice," Swift Foot replied. "Sometimes, even eyes like yours are pretty clear on what they're looking at." She squatted down on the floor next to Ditzy. "So… blue hair is your type, huh?"

Ditzy stared at her – kind of – for a moment before a snorting chuckle sought to escape her mouth, and would have done so too if she hadn't covered said mouth up with both hands. "He seems really nice, you know. And I think it might be nice to… to see what happens."

"Nothing is going to happen if you hide in here with pictures of your ex-boyfriend," Swift Foot said. She laughed at the hypocrisy of it, coming from her.

"What's so funny?" Ditzy asked.

"I just…" Swift Foot said. "Why is it so much easier for us to give advice to other people than it is to know what we ought to do for ourselves?"

"Oh, that's easy," Ditzy replied. "It's because no matter how terrible the advice is, it probably won't do us any harm when someone else follows it."

Swift Foot's eyebrows rose. "For someone who seems so sweet, you're quite the cynic."

"Really?" Ditzy sounded a little worried to hear it. "I just meant that it's easier to give suggestions; when it comes to us, we have to pick something."

"And making a choice," Swift Foot said, "is always difficult."

Ditzy nodded. "I struggle to decide what to have for lunch sometimes. When there is choice."

Swift Foot snorted. "I never got to attend an academy or a combat school, but from what my sister has told me, the correct menu choice was always 'none of the above.' I remember Terri-Belle used to come home for dinner every night, until our father forbade it. Then she snuck back, ate by herself in the kitchen with the servants, then crept back onto campus and hoped no one reported her missing."

"Didn't her teammates notice?"

"She used to have the servants prepare food she could bring back with her to share with them, so that they'd have no reason to tattle on her," Swift Foot explained. "It got her through four years of Haven, though I'm not sure what she did when she had to go to Vacuo for her first Vytal Festival."

"I don't know either," Ditzy said. "I've never been to Vacuo."

"Nobody has been to Vacuo," Swift Foot declared. "There's nothing worth going to Vacuo for." That had certainly been Terri-Belle's description of the place.

Ditzy didn't laugh. She just said, "So what are you trying to choose?"

"Hmm?" Swift Foot murmured. "What makes you think I'm trying to choose anything?"

"Because you're here, with me," Ditzy pointed out.

Swift Foot let out a very small snigger. "Point," she allowed. She sat down, resting her head upon the bookshelf behind her. "I'm trying to decide whether I should stay here or go back to my father and serve under my sisters," she said. It was a complete lie, but it was a lie that – though factual nonsense – held the emotional truth of her situation within it.

"I suppose, now… you'll be helping people either way," Ditzy said.

"Mmm," Swift Foot murmured. "Why do you stay here, Atlas girl? Why do you fight for Pyrrha Nikos, when neither this struggle nor this kingdom are your own?"

Ditzy smiled. "If everyone only ever helped themselves, it would be a pretty rotten world, don't you think?"

In my world, nobody helps anyone other than themselves, although it may sometimes seem otherwise, but those who appear to be helping others are still only seeking after but their own advantage. They seek favour or preferment or simply financial gain. Nobody does anything just to help a friend. Still less for someone more removed from them.

And you're right, it is a rotten world.

But it is the world we live in. All of us but Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha and the gallant swords that she has ranged about her.

How is it that she has assembled in her company all the virtue that is in Mistral, all the virtue in a city that seemed to have lost all trace of such?

Or perhaps the virtue was always there, hidden, dormant, waiting upon the right person – a princess, a Fall Maiden, or simply a righteous girl – to draw it out and into the light?

"Is that why you follow her?" Swift Foot asked. "To save off the rottenness of the world?"

"She was the only person to follow at the time," Ditzy pointed out.

"True," Swift Foot allowed. "She isn't now."

"No," Ditzy conceded in turn. "But… I don't know Pyrrha very well, I admit; I'm not one of her best friends or anything. But I know her a little. I know that she's kind. My mom always used to say if more people were kind to one another, then the world would be kinder, too."

Swift Foot sighed. "The world… is not kind to kind people," she whispered. "It breaks them."

"It tries to, sometimes," Ditzy replied. "But Pyrrha's strong, too."

"Strong enough?"

"On her own? I don't know," Ditzy said. "But that's why she's got all of us, to be strong for her."

Before Swift Foot could reply to that, she was interrupted by the sound of the library door opening.

"Hey!" Neptune called. "Is anybody in here? Ditzy?"

Ditzy leapt to her feet with a dizzying speed. "Yeah!" she replied, maybe a little louder than necessary. "I'm right here, Neptune." She emerged into view from behind the shelf; Swift Foot, though she rose a little more slowly to her feet, did likewise.

"Oh, there you are," Neptune said. "Hey, Swift Foot."

Swift Foot smirked. "Good afternoon, Lord Neptune."

Neptune groaned. "Please, don't. I'm pretty sure I've been disowned by this point anyway."

"Your mother may think differently about you, now that we are all good servants of the Council," Swift Foot pointed out. "Loyal warriors of the Kingdom of Mistral."

"I wouldn't count on it; my mother isn't the kind to admit she was wrong," Neptune replied.

"I understand you perfectly," Swift Foot murmured. "In any case, what are you still doing here? Where is the rest of your team?"

"They went to see that robot movie," Neptune explained.

"And you didn't go with them?" Ditzy asked.

"No, I wanted to see if-"

Neptune was interrupted by a cry of "Ren?" as Nora strode in, flinging the doors open so far that they slammed into the walls. "Ren? Come on, Ren, where are you?" She stopped, her blue eyes focussing upon the trio in the library. "Have you guys seen Ren anywhere?"

"We sparred together just a little while ago," Swift Foot replied. She allowed herself a smile of justified pride. "After I won, he left. I think he was going out somewhere but he didn't say where."

"He went out without telling me? Of all the inconsiderate-" Nora stopped abruptly at the very beginning of her rant against Ren. Her eyes skewered Swift Foot as they narrowed down like the walls of a death trap closing in. "You sparred with him?"

Swift Foot felt as though she might have made a misstep somewhere. "…yes?"

Nora skidded along the floor, shoving both Neptune and Ditzy aside – Neptune fell over with a startled cry; Ditzy reached out to help him up – until she was standing mere inches away from Swift Foot, snorting like a bull, their faces close enough to kiss, or head-butt. "Ren was sparring with you?"

Swift Foot swallowed. Nora Valkyrie was diminutive, but having observed her in battle, Swift Foot could say that she was small in the same way that a wolverine was small, which was to say that it wouldn't stop it from biting your face off. "I came in, he was training, I offered-"

"If Ren needs a sparring partner, then he has me," Nora declared. "Because I'm his partner!"

Maybe you should talk to him about that instead of getting in my face.

Fortunately, Swift Foot was rescued by the arrival of Autumn Blaze, who came running into the room with her red hair askew, panting for breath, holding up one finger of her right hand as she rested her left hand upon her knee to keep from doubling over. "Thank…" she began, then had to stop because she still hadn't got her breath back. "Thank goodness," she eventually managed to say. "There is someone still here, and I don't have to call Pyrrha and interrupt her. Because you guys are awesome, you should be fine. Just grab your weapons and come with me, okay? Okay, let's go." She turned away, gesturing for them to follow.

"Wait! Hang on a second," Nora cried.

"We don't have a second," Autumn replied. "Or, maybe we do, but we don't have a lot of seconds, so-"

"Why not?" Nora demanded. "What's going on? Is there a village under attack?"

"Yes," Autumn said. "Sort of."

"Then we should call Pyrrha," Neptune said.

"Why?" Swift Foot asked. "The reason everyone's gone is that my sister Terri-Belle and the Imperial Guard are-"

"Okay it's not a village 'under attack' under attack, like grimm or anything," Autumn admitted, "but it is a village in trouble, so won't you just-"

"I think you need to just stop, Autumn," Neptune said gently, taking a step towards her as he spoke in a tone as soft as the lapping of the ocean waves against the shore. "Just stop for a minute and tell us what's going on."

"We want to help," Nora added, "but we need to understand."

Autumn Blaze sighed. "Okay. Okay. So, I come from the village of Erika, about fifty miles outside of Mistral. And Erika has – had – this statue of a golden kirin-"

"You mean the statue is made of gold, right?" Nora asked.

"Yes, it is a golden statue of a kirin not a statue of a kirin that is gold," Autumn clarified.

"What's a kirin?" Ditzy whispered.

"A legendary creature," Swift Foot explained out of one corner of her mouth. "Often associated with the imminent arrival or passing of a ruler."

"This particular kirin was also the guardian of our village," Autumn said. "It was kept in a shrine, and every equinox, we'd leave it offerings as part of the Spring and Fall Festivals to thank it for keeping the village safe."

Ditzy blinked her wall eyes. "But it's a statue."

"You say that, but we didn't have a grimm attack since my great grandpa's time, so it seemed to be working pretty well, until it was stolen," Autumn said. "A few years ago, a group of traders – they said they were traders – came to our village and stole our kirin right out of our shrine. They stole our protection!"

"That is pretty low, even if we are talking about gold," Nora said.

"Exactly!" Autumn cried. "And because of that, Erika had to take a vow of silence, and I had to-"

"'Vow of silence'?" Neptune demanded.

Autumn sighed. "Our leader decided that without a guardian to keep the village safe, the best thing to do would be to decrease our negativity by not talking. If nobody could talk, then nobody could say hurtful things to one another, and nobody would get upset, which meant that no one could attract the grimm."

"That's pretty extreme," Nora remarked.

"I know, and believe me, there's only so long Sudoku can keep you entertained," Autumn groaned. "That's one of the reasons I left home and came to Mistral to pursue my dreams; I just couldn't take it any more in that silent prison. Didn’t we learn anything from Mantle before the Great War?”

“Is that why your first musical was about Mantle before the Great War?” Swift Foot asked.

“Possibly,” Autumn conceded. “’Cause rainbows won’t light up the sky unless you let it rain, and shiny'… anyway, the point is that I just got word there's an auction being held at the Curds'n'Whey, like, right now, and the golden kirin is one of the items, which is why I need you guys help to get it back."

"Are you sure?" Nora asked.

"Yes, I'm sure; someone I trust gave me this information," Autumn said. "Please, this might seem stupid, but this statue is really important to my village, and I'd go get it myself, but it's being guarded by a whole lot of bad guys, and I… I really need some help here."

"And you've got it!" Nora declared, pumping her fist. She turned to face the other three. "Okay, guys, what do you say? We don't need Pyrrha, and we don't Ren or Arslan or anybody else, because we've totally got this. Who's with me?"

"Wait just a second," Swift Foot said. "For something like this, shouldn't we just call the police?"

"This is Li'l Miss Malachite we're talking about," Autumn replied. "The police won't do anything without giving her fair warning in advance, and we'll never get the statue back."

"But we're not supposed to do anything at all without informing my sister," Swift Foot protested.

"And what's your sister going to do?" Neptune asked.

"Terri-Belle… will call the police," Swift Foot said, because her sisters would view this sort of thing as completely beneath them to deal with.

It was completely beneath them to deal with, but at the same time…

If everyone only ever helped themselves, it would be a pretty rotten world.

"Okay," she said. "I'm in."

"Me too," Ditzy said.

"And I make four, I guess," Neptune said.

"Alright," Nora cried. "Let's go Team… Team…"

"Venison?" Swift Foot suggested. "Spelled VSDN. The colour of meat cooked to your personal preference. Mine is medium rare."

"Okay, Team Venison," Nora said. "Let's go!"

Autumn Blaze brought Team VSDN to a part of the city that was low in every sense; it was on the lower levels of the city, where the slope turned very gentle as it descended into the valleys all around, and it looked – and smelled – like kind of a dive to Swift Foot. This was the kind of place where one-eyed men sold an array of vicious-looking bladed weapons to all kinds of unscrupulous characters, where masked men did shady deals out in the open without a trace of fear, where people walked quickly and kept themselves to themselves and tried not to catch the eye of anyone nearby.

She had never been to any place quite like this. She was the Steward’s daughter; she had grown up in the palace, high on the hill, looking down upon such neighbourhoods as this in every sense. This was her father’s city, and she had known nothing of it, and she suspected that her sisters were no better. This was her father’s city, and it was… not the nicest place to be, to put it bluntly. There might be no grimm here, and none who bore the name of bandit, but Swift Foot suspected that you might be in more danger here on a regular basis than in many of the towns and villages under the protection of the Myrmidons.

Do you know anything about this, father?

And would you care if you did?

Besides wondering whether or not the Steward of Mistral, her father, had any concern for the plight of the people of Mistral, Swift Foot also found herself wondering what she was doing here, in this rough part of the city, surrounded by danger, in the company of these people who were not her friends.

Who were not her friends… although it seemed that they had effortlessly offered her their friendship without even thinking about it.

She had been sent into their house to destroy their captain and tear down the company to which they had pledged their lives, but they had put their lives in her hands without a thought.

Why is everyone here so trusting and so honourable?

Have they not a single cynic or distrustful misanthrope amongst them?

The fact that they had not might be said to be good for her, but at the same time, it was also making it harder for her to complete her mission in good conscience when these people were showing more and more that they did not deserve to have her visited upon them.

It was bad enough when Pyrrha alone had shown herself to be a paragon, but all these others, too?

What was she doing here? She was here… she was here because they trusted her. She was here, it seemed, because friends had each other's backs. They had Autumn’s, and they trusted her to have theirs.

And she did not despise them for it.

Autumn led them to a narrow alleyway, where a spider’s web had been sketched on the wooden post of one of the two white plaster buildings that loomed over the tight passage.

“It’s through here,” Autumn said.

The four young huntsmen paused outside the alley. Fortunately, nobody seemed to be taking much notice of the fact that three of the four of them were armed and Swift Foot was dressed in a way which suggested that she did not belong. There were benefits to this being the kind of neighbourhood where nobody asked too many questions.

“So,” Nora – who had taken over the leadership of the group simply by acting as though she was the leader – said, “we’re probably looking at a lot of bad guys in there, right?”

Autumn winced. “Probably.”

“So what’s the plan?” Swift Foot inquired.

Nora cupped her chin with her fingers. “Autumn, you should probably stay here while we take care of this.”

“But how will you know what the kirin looks like without me?” Autumn asked.

“I should be able to recognise it,” Swift Foot ventured.

“Besides, it’s a gold statue of a mythical creature, and how many of those can there be?” Nora said. “Neptune, get up on the roof and wait for us to come out.”

Neptune drew Tri-Hard over his shoulder in its carbine configuration. “Let me guess: covering fire.”

“Yep,” Nora acknowledged, “and Ditzy, think that you can find your way around the back?”

“I can try,” Ditzy said. “If you give me a little time.”

“Sure, we’ll give you a minute,” Nora said. “Once you find the back door, don’t do anything until you hear us do something.”

“How will I know what that sounds like?” Ditzy asked. “Are you sure I’ll be able to hear it?”

Nora produced her hammer. “Oh, you’re gonna hear it alright,” she said with a grin that Swift Foot still found a little unnerving, even though they were on the same side.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright by yourself?” Neptune asked. “I mean, there might be guards back there; on your own-”

He was silenced by a pat on the shoulder from Ditzy as she smiled up at him, her eyes closing as she beamed. “It’s okay, Neptune,” she assured him, pumping one fist. “I’ve totally got this!”

Neptune said nothing for a moment; he just stared at her. He grinned back, teeth flashing. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“You got it,” Ditzy said cheerily, as she set off back the way that she’d come in search of another approach to the criminal den.

The extra time that she would need to get there gave the three girls plenty of time to stare at Neptune with various degrees of knowingness in their looks.

“Hey!” he protested. “What are you three looking at me like that for?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” Nora said in a sing-song voice. “We all see you, the way you look at her, the way you act towards her-”

“The way you didn’t go to the movies with your team because you were going to ask her out,” Swift Foot finished.

Nora swung her head around to look at Swift Foot. “Really?”

“I would put money on it,” Swift Foot said. “If I wasn’t broke because I ran away from my father’s house and I don’t have any money.”

“I’m broke too, so we could bet for bragging rights,” Nora suggested. “Except that I’d rather you were right.” She looked at Neptune again. “Well?” she demanded.

“Well what?”

“Spill it, dude,” Autumn cried. “Were you going to ask her out or not?”

“Are we really going to do this now?” he complained.

“We’ve got a little time,” Swift Foot said. “Besides, I haven’t had a chance to do anything like this before, and… I’m enjoying it.”

“See?” Nora said. “We’re not just prying into your business; we’re educating the baby!”

“My name’s Swift Foot.”

“Of course it is, Sweetie.”

Neptune sighed, and scratched the back of his head. “I… I was going to ask if she wanted to go and see Tryst in the Mist, but only as friends.”

“'Friends,' huh?” Nora said, drawing out the word.

“Young friendship,” Autumn said, with barely concealed laughter in her voice. “Always so cute.”

Neptune rolled his eyes and leapt up onto the roof to get away from them.

“He does like her, doesn’t he?” Swift Foot asked.

“Oh, totally,” Nora said. “And he’s showing it, too, which is more than some guys manage.”

Swift Foot winced. “Listen… Ren and I really did just spar.”

“'Just spar'?” Nora demanded. “He didn’t say anything?”

Swift Foot shuffled uncomfortably. “He… he talked about your team leader, from Beacon. I asked him why he was doing this, and he told me that her courage inspired him.”

Nora’s face became more dour and serious. “Yang… Yang was pretty amazing,” she admitted.

“Is that why you’re here, too?”

“I’m here because look at me, what else would I be doing?” Nora said, gesturing to herself and her giant hammer with one hand. “But… yeah, I’m here for Yang too. For Yang… and for the good fight. What we’re doing is important, kid, don’t forget that.”

“I’m only a year younger than you,” Swift Foot felt obliged to point out.

“A year is a long time when you’re as young as we are, right?” Nora replied.

“I guess,” Swift Foot muttered. “So with Neptune on the roof and Ditzy around the back, what are we going to do?”

“We are going to walk right in there,” Nora declared, “and ask for that statue.”

Swift Foot’s eyes widened a little. “Are you sure about that?”

“Sure I am!” Nora assured her. “Why, there was this time when Ren and I… nah, it’s not going to work without him around. Trust me, and let’s go.”

Swift Foot wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted Nora Valkyrie, but she followed anyway as the two of them walked into the narrow side-street until they came to an archway partially covered by a blue curtain with a design of a sword and some laurel wreaths picked out in white upon it.

Inside, beyond the curtain which they pushed open to admit themselves, was a rather low dive of a place with a floor of dark mottled tiles and walls of yellow brick, dimly illuminated by the paper lanterns that hung from the heavy beams of the ceiling. A few tables were occupied by men and women with guns and knives at their hips, all wearing a tattoo of a spider in its web somewhere about their person, but the majority of the furniture had been pushed to the very extremities of the room to create an open space in which a crowd of well-dressed but nonetheless rather seedy-looking people had gathered. A heavyset woman with short blonde hair stood in one corner of the room, watching the crowd, attended by a pair of frivolously-dressed young ladies in red and white cocktail dresses of the Valish style, with feathers in their hair and jewels around their necks. Rougher, harder-looking men and women lined the walls, and the balcony up above. Some tables had been stacked up on one another to form a kind of stand, and a giant, bearded bear of a man in a suit and tie loomed over the crowd; in his hand, he was holding a two-foot tall golden statue of a kirin.

“Okay, lot number twenty-three, a statue that once belonged to the Emperor Tyndareus himself, said to bring good luck and protection; what am I bid?”

“How about I bid that I not hit you with this hammer if you hand the statue over?” Nora suggested.

Silence fell in the bar as all eyes turned towards them.

The middle-aged woman – Li’l Miss Malachite, possibly – said, “You two girls wandered into the wrong place if you think you can talk like that in here.”

“And you stole the wrong kirin if you think we’re leaving without it,” Nora declared.

“There are two of them, Melanie-”

“-but neither of them look as strong as the last one, Miltia.”

“I think you’re a little outnumbered,” Miss Malachite observed, as her tattooed goons fingered their weapons in anticipation.

Swift Foot put one hand upon the hilt of her rhomphaia. “And I think you’re a little outclassed.” Because she was a daughter of the Steward, a scion of the House of Thrax who had stood and fought at the right hands of emperors and princes, and she would not show fear in the face of these ruffians.

Miss Malachite rolled her eyes. “Boys and girls, teach these two trespassers some manners.”

Nora grinned madly as she swung her hammer high above her head, both hands gripping the handle tight as she brought it down upon the floor – with a pink and smoking explosion as she fired the weapon - hard enough to crack the stone, to make the whole floor tremble, and most importantly, to lift a lot of the spider goons off the floor and suspend them in the air as Nora swung her hammer again in a sideways swipe. She caught about ten of them at once, piling them up, one pressed one against the other, before they were flung in a tangled mass of screeching arms and legs across the establishment. They smashed through two pillars – incidentally bringing a section of the ceiling down upon three more guys – and through the wall at the back as the heavyset woman and her bodyguards dived unceremoniously for cover.

Swift Foot drew her rhomphaia and turned just in time as some more thugs began to fire from the upper balcony. She weaved her extended sword deftly, bullets ricocheting off the metal as Swift Foot leapt first onto the table and then, still deflecting their fire, up onto the balcony itself. She slashed with her long blade, striking a goon across the chest and tossing him sideways into one of his fellows. She drew no blood to stain her metal. So, these criminals had their aura activated. Good; she didn’t have to worry about holding back.

She tore into her enemies as they tried to exchange their guns for blades, but they were slow to do so, and their knives and short swords – still less the stocks of their shotguns and rifles – were no match for her Mistral’s Pride, wielded in her hands as she stood, perfectly poised and balanced upon the wooden balcony rail, leaping and pirouetting in the air as she knocked her enemies off the balcony. They fell downwards towards the floor, but with Nora swinging her hammer around down there with such wild abandon – a reason Swift Foot had been keen to leap up onto this higher level – very few of them actually reached said floor.

Bullets filled the air, but Swift Foot blocked them all, either with Mistral’s Pride or with her shield. Meanwhile, Nora had cleared the bar below of furniture and of most of its occupants, leaving heaps of goons and thugs out cold as she worked her way, methodical for all that she looked like a maniac, towards the statue and the bear who held it.

“Melanie,” one of the two coquettishly dressed girls said, “she looks even stronger than the last one.”

“Maybe,” the other girl admitted, her voice a little nervous, “but she’s definitely slower. Don’t worry, Miltia, this won’t be like last time.”

Swift Foot wasn’t given the chance to wonder what ‘last time’ they were referring to when the two girls attacked, dashing through the retreating survivors of the Spider gang to descend on Nora like a pair of wolves setting upon a bison. The one in red had a pair of claws extending from each glove; the one in white had blades attached to the reverse of her heels. They attacked together, coming at Nora from different angles, forcing the redhead back, ducking beneath or leaping over the cumbersome swings of her hammer, slashing at her with their claws or cutting at her with their blades as they leapt and dived and rolled. Nora tried to repeat the trick with the floor, but although she further ruined the tile work, both these girls were far too agile to fall for that, and the vibrations didn’t disturb them so much that they couldn’t keep on hitting Nora.

Nora growled in frustration. “New Girl! Tag out!”

“My name is Swift Foot,” Swift Foot muttered, as she descended from the upper level like a thunderbolt. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was rushing to help Nora Valkyrie, of all people, but it had a little to do with the feeling that Pyrrha would be quite disappointed in her if she didn’t… and something to do with the fact that it felt right, however much it involved putting herself at risk.

I’m a Mistralian aristocrat; putting myself at risk for the commoners is what I’m supposed to do.

She landed upon the shattered floor, bounding over the cracked and broken tiles to place herself like a guard dog between Nora and her adversaries. Mistral’s Pride parried a slashing stroke from the claws of the red-clad girl with sparks and a ring of steel on steel. There was a bang from behind as Nora shot herself upwards, but apart from noticing the pink trails of grenades out of the corner of her eye as the loud girl started firing at the remaining crooks as they tried to regroup, Swift Foot had little attention to pay to that.

Her attention was all upon the two girls, their faces masks of concentration as they slashed and swiped and swept both arms and legs at her so swiftly that it was all she could do to parry them away. She was quicker than Nora, and Mistral’s Pride a good sight lighter and swifter than that giant hammer, but even so, these girls were themselves so quick – and so coordinated, rarely giving her the chance to focus on just one of them – that she was forced to retreat regardless, parrying again and again by the skin of her teeth, and the counterattacks she made were few and far between and easily dodged or deflected by her enemies.

These girls… they’re good enough for Haven. They have no business being so much better than the rest of the riff-raff.

And where in Remnant is-

Ditzy burst through the back door. Or more accurately, she kicked a couple of guys through it. “Sorry I’m late, everybody,” she cried. “It’s a real maze out there, and then, once I found the right place, some people tried to stop me.”

“I could use a little help here,” Swift Foot growled.

“No problem,” Ditzy said, darting forward – she effortlessly dodged a grenade on its way to explode amidst a half-dozen goons and send them flying – towards Swift Foot’s battle with the two coquettes. “Leave it to me.”

Swift Foot took that as a cue to retreat towards the exit from the bar as Ditzy got in amongst the other girls, forcing them to turn their attention towards her. The girls in red and white slashed at her and kicked at her, but the Atlesian girl seemed to effortlessly dodge all of their blows, contorting her body like a circus act, flipping onto her hands to strike them both with a kick each to the side of the head.

Confident that Ditzy had that well in hand and with Nora keeping the heads of the other gangsters down as they tried in vain to shoot her down from behind what little cover they could find at the back of the room, Swift Foot charged for the big guy who seemed frozen in place on his makeshift auction stand, still holding the kirin statue with one hand.

With the other hand, he held a club that was almost as big as he was. He swung it at Swift Foot as the latter vaulted up onto the stack of tables, but it was a clumsy swing that passed over her head as she kicked upwards, rising level with his bearded face to punch him square between the eyes. He toppled backwards, the golden kirin slipping from his grasp... and into Swift Foot’s outstretched hand.

“I’ve got it!” she proclaimed, raising it triumphantly into the air.

“Great job!” Ditzy cried enthusiastically as she hit the girl in white with such a powerful uppercut that the unfortunate girl flew up through the ceiling.

“Oh no,” the girl in red moaned. “She’s even stronger than the last one!”

Ditzy’s next blow sent her flying through the nearest wall.

“Let’s go,” Nora said, leaping down from her perch. “Everyone, retreat!”

There weren’t a lot of enemies left to retreat from, with the ringing of curses pursuing them more than the enemy. A couple of guys tried to follow them out into the alley – moving warily, guns drawn, creeping out with the obvious intent to shoot rather than engage in melee combat – but they were both hit by bolts from Neptune’s rifle, which knocked them to the ground as the three girls sprinted for the alley mouth.

They burst out, covered by Neptune’s fire against anyone brave enough to even try and follow, and no sooner had they emerged out of the alley than the alley-mouth they’d just emerged from was engulfed by a wall of fire, cutting them off from the immediate threat of pursuit.

“What-“ Swift Foot began, before she noticed that Autumn Blaze was standing nearby with her hand out. “You have a semblance?”

“You learn to take care of yourself, living out in the territories,” Autumn explained. “Did you get it?”

Swift Foot handed it over, with due care and reverence for what it represented to their blogger.

Autumn’s eyes widened as she took it, holding it delicately, awe in her voice as she said, “You guys… I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough. You have no idea what this means to-”

They all ducked as a bullet whizzed over their heads.

“We should probably go,” Nora said.

“No argument here,” Neptune replied.

As they ran through the streets, the four young huntsmen arrayed around Autumn Blaze like a guard of honour, Swift Foot couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Are you okay, Swift Foot?” Ditzy asked solicitously.

“I’m fine,” Swift Foot said. “I’m… I’m great. I… I can’t remember when I last had this much fun.”

I… I like it here.

And I don’t want to bring down this thing that does such good.

What, oh what am I going to do?

The Mistral Chapter

The Mistral Chapter

The Rutulus family - and Camilla - had dinner in the traditional Mistralian dining hall, but they had breakfast in the Atlesian-style parlour that Turnus had had completely redecorated after his father died and he became head of the family. Very privately, Camilla thought that it was a little bit of a pity, because she had quite liked the parlour the way it had been before, warm and welcoming and rather inviting, but Turnus was the master of the house, and he wanted a room that reflected his affection for the north. That had translated, in Camilla’s opinion, into a rather cold and sterile room, with white tiles upon the floor and walls that were a plain undecorated metallic colour, with no furniture except the high stools that sat around the grey breakfast bar that rose out of the floor. But Turnus seemed to like it, and that was the important thing.

There was room for ten people around the breakfast bar – one at the head, one at the foot, and eight around both sides – but generally, only three of those places were filled on any given morning. Sometimes, Turnus might honour one or two of his huntsmen to break fast with the family, just as he might occasionally ask them to dinner, but generally, it was just the three of them. More recently, Camilla had grown used to Lionheart’s presence at breakfast with them, but that did not mean that she was not surprised to come into the parlour to find that not only had Turnus beaten her and Juturna there, but that Lionheart, Watts, and Chrysalis were all there too, all sat upon the left side of the breakfast bar, with cups or glasses already set in front of them.

It was enough to make Camilla come to a stop in the doorway, so that Juturna, following behind, collided with her.

“Hey!” Juturna said. “What’s up?”

Turnus was set at the head of the breakfast bar, looking at his scroll. He looked up as he heard the commotion. He smiled at her, and even though it was a smile that held only ordinary affection in it and nothing special or unusual that was just for her, nevertheless the sight of it set Camilla’s heart to beating just a little bit faster in spite of all the shadows that lay upon this house.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” Camilla replied. Her gaze flickered towards their new guests. “I was not aware that we had company.”

“I thought it would be for the best if our guests were to join us,” Turnus explained.

After what I told you yesterday? She had revealed everything that she had heard while hiding in Juturna’s wardrobe to Turnus, and to be perfectly honest, she had been a little disappointed that he had not deigned to take her recommendation to cast these people out of the house one way or another. It was true that they hadn’t exactly confessed to anything markedly worse than what Turnus and Camilla already knew – except for their intent to cause the death of Pyrrha Nikos – but Camilla had hoped that he would trust her when she said that they were dangerous, too dangerous to be allowed to remain under the same roof as carefree, thoughtless Juturna.

Turnus might make her swoon with moments of passionate intensity, with declarations of his - unfortunately platonic - feelings that melted her heart, but it was Juturna who had made Camilla feel welcome in this house ever since she was a little girl. From the very day that Lord Rutulus, then Commissioner of Police, had brought an orphan faunus home to foster with his family, Juturna had embraced her as a sister. Camilla loved her for that, but for all that love, she had to admit that Juturna was neither serious nor, and she meant this not as an insult but as unvarnished truth, particularly sensible. She breezed through life as she breezed through objects with her semblance, passing through the world in a cloud of her family’s money and her old name and her bubbly charm that made her very hard to dislike. Juturna was everybody’s friend, even if it sometimes seemed as though she didn’t have any friends apart from Turnus and Camilla herself, and for that reason, no trouble that she might have gotten into ever stuck to her. But this… what she had gotten herself into this time… it wasn’t going to be like that, or at least, Camilla thought that it would not, and it worried her that Juturna seemed incapable of grasping that fact. It worried her even more that Turnus didn’t seem quite able to grasp just how dangerous this situation was either.

He had promised that he would not harm a single hair on Juturna’s head for the crown of Mistral, but he was already doing that by continuing to entertain these people and tolerate their presence in his house and life. Camilla wanted to see Turnus succeed, she wanted to see him happy, but surely, he did not require the crown so much that he would risk those who were most dear to him, and all the wonderful things that he was already possessed of, simply to obtain it?

Juturna darted around Camilla and walked quickly towards the mini-fridge that sat beside the wall. She opened it up with a pop and bent down to pull out the carton of grapefruit juice. It was another function of the Atlesian… affectations – if that didn’t seem like too negative a word – of Turnus that they didn’t have household servants to do this sort of thing. There were a few maids to clean up and dust around the place, but that was it. Juturna held out the juice carton. “You want some?”

“Yes, thank you,” Camilla said softly, to which Juturna grabbed two glasses from off the shelf and set them down on the black sideboard emerging from the wall.

As she began to pour the juice, Juturna said, “You’re looking pretty engrossed in that scroll there, Brother. What’s up?”

Turnus had a thunderous scowl upon his face. “Lady Ming is sounding her mouth off about the incident at Manjushage. She is alleging Atlesian involvement.”

“But it wasn’t them, right?” Juturna asked.

“No,” Turnus said firmly. “No, it most certainly was not. General Ironwood has his faults-”

“Forgive me, my lord, but General Ironwood has more faults than virtues,” Doctor Watts declared. He was dressed in a blue monogrammed dressing gown, with the W picked out in an ornate style upon his breast pocket, and he had a glass of orange juice and a bowl of cherries buried under a healthy serving of thick and creamy yoghurt set in front of him. Although he had not found time to dress, he did appear to have found time to groom his moustache, which was in perfect condition. His tone became lively as he warmed to his theme. “He displays bovine stupidity, porcine close-mindedness, a staggering lack of appreciation for progress, and a rather nauseating belief in nonsense like courage and loyalty. However, all those vices are what makes him incapable of carrying out an attack such as I understand took place at your town. He doesn’t have the imagination to fight a war in such a fashion.”

Turnus regarded the doctor with a curious expression. “I was going to say that, for all his faults, he is too honourable to engage in such tactics,” he said.

Doctor Watts chuckled. “His honour is another of General Ironwood’s vices.”

Camilla picked up her glass of juice from the side. “I do not know where you have been residing, Doctor, but in this city, we do not regard a sense of honour as either fault or vice.”

“No, indeed, you simply contort the definition of the word until leaving villages and towns defenceless before grimm or bandits or both can be considered honourable,” Doctor Watts said, and though his volume was low, there was no mistaking the barbed amusement of his tone.

Camilla frowned, but the worst part was that she couldn’t really respond to the man because… well, because he was right. They had been ignoring the plight of the settlements and doing so entirely for their own personal gain. They had been turning away those who had come asking for their help, except for those who could afford to pay the fees that Rutulian Security demanded. They had paralysed the Kingdom’s response to the perils that surrounded it for the sake of advancing the ambitions of Turnus.

Camilla loved Turnus, she would give her life for him if his cause required it, but she could not help but think that his father would not have behaved in such a way; the man who had personally led the raid on the warehouse where she and the other children were being held would have done something to protect the people of Mistral when they were in need.

She could not help but wish that Turnus had shown a little more of the generosity of spirit displayed by Pyrrha and her comrades, who had gone out to fight for Mistral and asked for no reward. And, as the acclaim that showered like rain on Pyrrha’s head demonstrated, it might have gotten him closer to his goal than inactivity had.

She felt ashamed of herself for not realising that sooner and for not having the courage to put that case to him with enough force to make him accept it.

She sat down on the other side of the breakfast bar from Doctor Watts. “On what grounds does Lady Ming blame Atlas for Manjushage?”

“She alleges that the blasts are the work of Atlesian energy weapons,” Turnus muttered.

“Take it from me, many things can be made to look like Atlesian energy weapons,” Doctor Watts said. “That doesn’t mean that it was the work of Atlas. I understand that you do not want war between Atlas and Mistral, my lord.”

“No,” Turnus said, looking up from his scroll. “I have seen the power of Atlas first-hand. With my own eyes I have observed the shipyards at Atlas, the industry of Mantle; I have seen the dust mines and the fleet in review. What does Mistral have to compare? The Imperial Navy is a handful of ships of dubious quality; our army is a ragbag of feudal entities. What do we have to set against the Atlesian fleet, against the weapons that emerge daily from the Mantle factories, against the innovations of Crystal City? Courage? Ancient tradition? Lionheart, what was it you said Lady Ming’s plan was?”

“Uh,” Lionheart lifted his head up. He had bothered to dress before coming down for breakfast, and a bowl of mandarin segments sat in front of him. “Ah, yes, Lady Ming suggested that a decapitation strike-”

“A decapitation strike by light, fast airships armed with bunker busting missiles could catch the Atlesian fleet at the proverbial anchor and inflict heavy casualties for little loss in return, yes?” Chrysalis asked. She was dressed in a red silk kimono, with a pink towel wrapped around her head. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of her.

“Y-yes,” Lionheart replied, stammering in surprise. “That is exactly right, how did you-?”

“The White Fang attempted that in the year after Sienna Khan’s rise to leadership,” Chrysalis explained. “The idea was to hit the ships assembled for Fleet Week and cripple the power of Atlas in one smooth stroke.”

“I have not heard of this,” Turnus said, as he leaned forwards. “What happened?”

Chrysalis drained half of her coffee in one go. “It turned out that just because it was Fleet Week didn’t mean that the air defences were down or that the entire fleet was docked, with no ships on patrol. Most of the airships were destroyed before they entered missile range of their targets, and the missiles that were launched were destroyed by anti-missile defences. And you never heard of it because, such was the complete failure of the attack, that the Atlesian authorities were able to cover the whole thing up to prevent the spread of panic.”

“Then how do you know about it?” Camilla demanded.

Chrysalis looked at her, and smiled. “I’m sure you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”

Camilla scowled and got up from her seat. “You’re White Fang.”

“She was White Fang,” Juturna insisted. “We’re all friends here now, right?”

“Of course,” Doctor Watts assured them all. “We are united in a common purpose that has nothing to do with faunus supremacy or terrorist attacks upon the Kingdom of Mistral.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Camilla pressed, her attention still fixed on Chrysalis.

“I seek what I am given to understand Lord Turnus desires,” Chrysalis replied. “The power to save my people from the fools who would ruin them. In your case, it is the idiots who desire a war between Mistral and Atlas; in my case, it is the cravens who desire to place Menagerie under the Atlesian boot.”

“Is this the treaty between Atlas and Menagerie?” Turnus asked.

Chrysalis’ eyebrows rose. “You know of it?”

“There is a woman who works in the Schnee Dust Company, her name is Cala Brown, highly placed,” Turnus explained. “She is kind enough to keep me abreast of developments in the north. I confess that when she told me about the Menagerie treaty, I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it. It seemed… a little too improbable.”

“I didn’t want to believe it either,” Chrysalis muttered darkly. “I fear it will make Menagerie a mere colony of Atlas.”

“And if the likes of Lady Ming and Timur get their way, we shall be faced with enemies to the north and the south,” Turnus said, “and yet I fear that if word of this were to get out, that same fear of Atlesians on both sides would only strengthen the voices calling for us to act against Atlas now, regardless of how low our chances of success. And for myself… an Atlas that is preoccupied with nation-building in Menagerie would be unlikely to support my plans in Sanus.”

Juturna sat down. “Perhaps when you get to Atlas and present those plans, everyone there will agree they’re a much better bet than Menagerie anyway.”

Turnus chuckled. “We can certainly hope so.”

“And in the meantime, we can do a little more than hope; we can quiet some of these voices calling for war between Atlas and Mistral,” Doctor Watts said. “I understand that you’re going to go Manjushage yourselves to investigate the town. With your permission, my lord, I should like to come with you.”

“Would you?” Turnus asked. “Why?”

“Because your interests are mine, lord,” Doctor Watts said genially. “Because I am intrigued to learn who is actually responsible for this inexplicable event. And because, with all due modesty, you won’t find a scientist more skilled than I. If anyone can discover the truth, I can.”

Turnus stared at him, weighing him with his eyes. “Very well,” he said at last. “You may accompany us. Alone.”

Chrysalis smiled. “Don’t worry, my lord, I have…other plans, here in Mistral. I will not disturb you.”

“Other plans? What kind of plans?” Camilla’s tone was as forceful as a hammer blow.

The smile on Chrysalis’ face turned into a rather ugly smirk. “I may not accompany you to Manjushage; I may not go anywhere else? What can I do?”

“Answer the question,” Camilla growled.

“Camilla,” Juturna murmured. “They’re here to help.”

“Then they won’t mind explaining how they plan to do so,” Camilla said, without taking her eyes off Chrysalis.

“You don’t like me, do you?” Chrysalis asked in bemusement.

“I don’t trust you around this family,” Camilla replied. “Whether I like you or not has nothing to do with it.”

Chrysalis held Camilla’s gaze for a moment. “If it pleases you better, then I shall stay here. I shall remain in my room until you return, and you need not fear me stirring into the streets.”

“What do you intend to do about Pyrrha Nikos?” Turnus asked, as he folded up his scroll and put it away.

Camilla sipped at her grapefruit juice. Amongst the things that she had told Turnus last night was that Watts and Chrysalis meant to see Pyrrha dead, apparently she posed so great a threat to Salem’s plans. Turnus was displeased by that, and to be honest, so was Camilla herself, even if her reasons for that displeasure were quite different.

Silence fell upon their three guests. It was Lionheart who spoke first. “I bear no malice against Pyrrha; I have always been fond of her, for all that she has not been so fond of me lately. I have no wish to see her harmed, but since she seems determined to set her will against us-”

“Against you,” Turnus corrected. “Not against me.”

“She does not stand with you,” Doctor Watts pointed out.

“Nor does she stand against me,” Turnus reminded him in turn. “At present, we are allies in the defence of Mistral against its external threats.”

Doctor Watts looked a little unhappy to hear this. His dark brow furrowed. “And yet, since she is aware that you are aligned with Lionheart, she will perforce regard you as her enemy.”

“And if she comes at me with Miló in her hand then I will deal with her as I would any other enemy,” Turnus replied, “but until then, I will not initiate violence against Pyrrha or the Myrmidons. I will never reach the throne by wading through Pyrrha’s blood to get there, not unless I am clearly the innocent party in our struggle.”

“That could be arranged,” Chrysalis offered.

“Perhaps it could,” Turnus said, “but it will not be.”

“Do you think she would be so indulgent towards you?” Chrysalis asked.

“She is as indulgent,” Camilla declared. “Despite the fact that she knows we have our enemy in her midst, she has made no effort to harm him or any of us.”

“Not yet,” Juturna said.

Turnus and Camilla both looked at her, but it was Turnus who spoke, “Meaning what, sister?”

“Meaning that it sounds as though we’re going to have to deal with her sooner or later,” Juturna said. “So… why not? It’s not as if she’s going to marry you.”

Chrysalis, who had been finishing off her coffee, snorted, causing some of the liquid to leave by her nose. “Is that what this is all about?”

Turnus did not look in the least bit abashed. “What is a king without a queen?”

“What is a man with a wife who hates him?” Juturna shot back.

“Pyrrha doesn’t hate me,” Turnus said.

“She will if you make her a widow,” Juturna insisted. “Or… what’s the word for when you have a fiancé but they die before the wedding?”

“Very unfortunate,” Doctor Watts answered.

“Or delivered, in the nick of time,” Turnus replied.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” Juturna demanded. “She doesn’t want you!”

“She doesn’t need to want me for me to want her,” Turnus responded. “She is a great beauty with an old name, why wouldn’t I want her?”

Juturna was silent for a moment. “There are others more beautiful,” she said. “Though their names be not so old.”

Camilla got up. “If you will excuse us, my lord,” she said formally, as she grabbed Juturna by the arm.

Turnus raised his eyebrows at this, but nodded. “Please, go if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Camilla whispered, as she dragged a protesting Juturna out of the parlour by the arm and down the corridor a good distance so that they could talk without being overheard by anybody still in the parlour.

“What are you doing?” Juturna demanded.

“What are you doing?” Camilla responded, her voice a hiss. “Do you want them to try and kill Pyrrha?”

Juturna shrugged. “He can’t marry a dead woman,” she said.

Camilla’s eyes widened. “Juturna…” she murmured, a touch of horror creeping into her tone. “That… that… you go too far. This isn’t funny anymore.”

“No, it’s not funny,” Juturna replied. “Watching you pine for him isn’t funny. Watching him obsess over someone else isn’t funny. If she were out of the way-“

“And do you think it would be any better to be his second choice?” Camilla demanded. “To live my whole life with the shadow of the woman he really wanted lying between us?” She sighed. “If it will make you feel better, if it will assuage your worrying impulses, then I will win his heart, for myself, after my own fashion. And I will do it without killing anyone to make things easier for me.”

“And if you can’t?” Juturna asked softly.

Camilla looked over Juturna’s head. “What you said to me yesterday,” she said. “About Turnus, about how he would be the King that Mistral needs, did you mean it?”

“I… guess so,” Juturna answered. “Mostly I just want him to succeed because he’s my brother.”

“Nevertheless, you spoke truly, more true than you realised,” Camilla replied. “Mistral needs Turnus for its king, I believe that. He is the man who can lead us into the future. But Mistral also needs Pyrrha Nikos, not as its queen, perhaps, but as the bulwark of its strength. She was the first to step forward to defend the kingdom when it was in need, and she… if I must sacrifice my happiness for the good of this kingdom by yielding place to her, then how can I do less?”

It proved impossible for Pyrrha and Jaune to secure an audience with the Lord Steward himself, but Lady Terri-Belle did consent to receive them in her capacity as the Captain-General.

She met them both in the same room in which they had assembled for the formation of their joint enterprise, with the painting of General Lagune’s sacrifice hanging over them, the army being destroyed out of the corner of Pyrrha’s eye.

Terri-Belle was once more armoured for battle, in case the call came that some town or village was in dire need of her assistance. She cast a shadow over the map table as she walked down it towards Pyrrha and Jaune.

“I am given to understand that my sister had an eventful evening,” Terri-Belle began pointedly. “An eventful evening that I did not authorise.”

“I did not set out to intentionally disobey your commands, my lady,” Pyrrha said softly. “I wasn’t aware of what Swift Foot or the others had done until they returned to my house after their excursion.”

“Have you punished them?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “And… if there is to be any punishment for their offence, then it ought to fall on me, as their commander.”

Terri-Belle blinked. “Do you mean that?”

“I am sure my lady does not mean to call me a liar,” Pyrrha said, her voice chilling noticeably.

“You would take their punishment, even a flogging, or worse?”

Jaune gasped. “A flogging? You can’t be-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha murmured. “That’s enough.” To Terri-Belle she said, “Yes. Or worse.”

Terri-Belle stared into Pyrrha’s eyes. “You really would, wouldn’t you? You are… quite something, I must admit.” She snorted “I’m not actually going to flog your fiancée, Captain Arc; I just wanted to see how you would react to the same.”

“I must confess that I am glad to hear it,” Pyrrha replied.

“I’m not so glad you suggested it,” Jaune muttered.

“Those that my sister and her companions fought were only criminals, after all,” Terri-Belle continued. “As far as I am concerned, there is no harm done.” She paused. “But you requested this meeting, not I. And I doubt you did it so that you could confess to Swift Foot’s faults and bare your back for the whip. So why are you here?”

Pyrrha and Jaune glanced at one another. “We have come,” Pyrrha declared, “because Turnus received two visitors at his house today, whom we believe to be part of the same network of subversives that Leonardo Lionheart is working for.” She was glad that she had practiced that in advance so that she was able to get through it without hesitating.

Terri-Belle’s brow furrowed. “You mean the subversives whose existence you cannot prove.”

“Someone destroyed the Vale Tower, my lady,” Jaune pointed out, “and someone murdered Phoebe Kommenos.”

“But ‘someone’ is not Leonardo Lionheart,” Terri-Belle reminded him. “I have no wish to shield a traitor or a criminal, but nor will I go against one of Mistral’s oldest families upon a mere word. Not even if that word also comes from one of Mistral’s oldest families. How do you know of these visitors?”

“We,” Jaune began, “we have someone watching the house of the Rutulians.”

Terri-Belle’s eyebrows rose until they were concealed beneath her brow-guard. “Indeed? And here I thought we were allies, now.”

“Nothing would please me better than to believe that too,” Pyrrha said. “Unfortunately, the presence of such people in Turnus’ house makes it a little difficult.”

“Who are these people, and how do you know that they are enemies of Mistral?”

“Our agent watching the house recognised them,” Jaune explained. “They’re both wanted criminals from Atlas: Chrysalis, a former White Fang commander, and Arthur Watts, a scientist disgraced for unethical experiments involving removing the aura from live subjects.”

“That sounds ominous; the White Fang would be bad enough,” Terri-Belle growled. “But once more, there is no evidence but your word?”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted.

“So you’re just going to do nothing?” Jaune demanded.

“I did not say that,” Terri-Belle said. “But call off your watcher. I will set my own people to watch the house of the Rutulians, to report to me and not to you. Your agent will supply images or descriptions of these intruders to my own.”

“Are you actually going to do something, or do you just want us to think you’re doing something while you stop us from acting?” Jaune asked.

Terri-Belle’s lip curled in distaste. “If you are to marry into one of our great families and spend your time interacting with the representatives of other great families, then you should learn that there are limits to what we will tolerate. And you are trespassing upon them. I will observe, as you have done; you have my word upon it.”

“Very well, my lady, but please be careful,” Pyrrha urged. “The White Fang commander, Chrysalis, as I understand it, has a semblance which allows her to change shape.”

Terri-Belle cursed under her breath. “I will… speak to Laird McCullen, perhaps there is some technology that will enable us to detect such things. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Now leave it to me.”

“How long must we continue to bend our necks and follow the whims of these children?” Chrysalis demanded.

She and Doctor Watts – there was no point in including Lionheart in this discussion – were closeted together in Watts’ room as the latter packed a few scientific instruments up in his black bag, ready for his trip to Manjushage. Chrysalis supposed that she could see why he was keen to go: he wanted to know if there was any other foe in this region that they should be concerned with; he also seemed to think that this might offer a clue as to the whereabouts of the Spring Maiden they were seeking.

“They are our allies here,” Doctor Watts reminded her.

“They are ridiculous,” Chrysalis declared. “How are we supposed to accomplish our goals here with all of these restrictions that they place upon us?”

“By becoming someone upon whom they cannot place restrictions,” Doctor Watts suggested, his tone soft and rather mild, all things considered. He shut his bag. “Without their assistance, Lionheart would not be in a position to get us to the Vault of the Spring Maiden.”

“Someone could have been found to shelter him,” Chrysalis replied. “Someone less frustrating.” She wanted to strangle both those girls with their own entrails. That pampered princess had dared to speak to her in such a way? To talk down to her, to force Chrysalis to address her in that fashion! There would be a reckoning for that, depend upon it. Chrysalis never forgot, and she never forgave, as Twilight Sparkle and her friends would find out sooner or later.

“Revenge is a dish best served cold,” Doctor Watts reminded her, “and for the moment, their goals align with ours. We both want to prevent conflict between Mistral and Atlas, after all.”

“Actually, Doctor, a conflict between Atlas and Mistral would suit me admirably,” Chrysalis disagreed. “After all, an Atlas that is preoccupied with a Mistralian war would not have the energy or resources to devote to Menagerie.”

“There are better ways to deal with Atlas and Menagerie,” Doctor Watts said. “Better ways by far than starting a war which Atlas will certainly win and, in the winning, strengthen the hands of your real enemies: Ironwood, Cadenza-“

“While you will see them out of office, yes, yes, I am aware of your subtle games,” Chrysalis snapped. “And how will that help my people?”

“If Atlas were to suddenly go away and leave Menagerie alone, then that would leave the island in the hands of those who had misled and misused it, would it not?” Doctor Watts pointed out. “Things must be allowed to continue in order for the opportunity to arise for a visionary to save the faunus from the folly of Sienna Khan and the Belladonna family. Trust me, my dear, an Atlas-Mistral war is not in the interests of Menagerie, Atlas, or Mistral.”

Chrysalis snorted. “Very well, Doctor, I will keep faith with you for now.”

“And we will keep faith with these… children, as you call them,” Doctor Watts said. “Does it not make you feel better, having proof before your eyes of our fidelity? Does it not make you feel less likely to be betrayed?”

“Is that the point of this charade, to mollify me?” Chrysalis asked. She rose to her feet and took a step closer towards him. “Trust me, Doctor Watts, if you were ever to decide to betray me, I would see it coming long before you did.”

The door into the doctor’s guest room was opened by Camilla, the – admittedly rather beautiful – albino fox faunus whom Turnus and his ghastly sister kept as their familiar. She was dressed for battle, with leather armour worn over her outfit, a bow slung across her back and a dust-blade worn in scabbard at her hip. She was very pretty, if a little young for Chrysalis, that combination of fair skin and white hair, features that could be strong or vulnerable by turns.

She looked rather more strong than vulnerable at the moment, her features stony as she said with frigid courtesy. “Doctor Watts, we are ready to depart.”

“Thank you, Miss Volsci,” Doctor Watts said, picking up his black bag, “and so am I.”

Camilla nodded and stepped aside for the Doctor. “My lord and lady are waiting for you in the courtyard with our escort.”

“Very well,” Doctor Watts said as he walked past Camilla. Doctor Watts’ footsteps echoed down the corridor, but Camilla herself made no move to follow him. She stayed where she was, her red eyes fixed on Chrysalis.

“Was there something you wanted?” Chrysalis asked casually.

“I will not allow any harm to come to Juturna,” Camilla said coldly.

Chrysalis assumed an expression of bewilderment. “Why should I intend any harm to come to Juturna, when we are friends and-?“

“You may take off your mask now,” Camilla said. “I see you for what you are.”

“I think that you see only what you wish to see.”

“I do not wish to see my best friend in danger, and yet, I fear she is,” Camilla replied.

“If that were so, what would you do about it?”

“Anything I must,” Camilla growled, her ears flattening on top of her head as a sign of her anger. Her tail was as rigid as a spear-point. “I have no doubt that you are an accomplished warrior, but nevertheless, I advise you not to take me lightly.”

“I do not,” Chrysalis said, though her tone was very light, “but as I intend no harm to dear Lady Juturna, my friend and ally, the question does not arise. Does it?” She smiled. “Now, you wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting, would you?”

Camilla stared at her for a few more long and lingering moments before she shut the door. Chrysalis heard her footsteps, in turn, heading away.

Chrysalis gave them a three minute head start before she changed shape.

She had her faults – if she had been the perfect warrior, then she would never have gotten herself caught and imprisoned by Atlas in the first place; it could not all be blamed on Twilight Sparkle and her friends – but she was not so foolish as her hosts, who seemed to trust in the honour of their enemies not to interfere with them. Even if she accepted that they had not yet attacked the Rutulus house, that was no guarantee that they didn’t have it under surveillance, seeking to learn the plans of Lionheart and any other agents of Salem that might come by. So she would let those observing eyes be drawn away by Watts as he accompanied the others on their largely irrelevant investigation, and then, when there was no one watching – no one including anyone who might remember that she had promised not to leave the house – she would take her own leave.

And she would do it wearing somebody else’s face.

She transformed, her semblance – Changeling – altering her appearance, clothes and all, her sophisticated armour changing just as much as her face and body did. To all appearances, she was now a nondescript Atlesian man, one of her jailers at the prison where she had spent the past three years: a little on the heavily-built side, perhaps, with a bull neck and a crew cut, but otherwise a very ordinary sort of man, the sort of man you wouldn’t pay much attention to if you passed him on the street, especially if he was dressed in nondescript Mistralian robes of a grassy green.

Thus disguised beyond all recognition, Chrysalis slipped out of the house, dodging the handful of serving staff – a larger staff would have posed more difficulties; she supposed she should be grateful for the austerity of her hosts – and the men that Turnus had under arms outside, although she aided in that deception by transforming her attire briefly into the Atlesian-inspired black armour that the men were wearing. In any event, none of them challenged her as she circled around the house, found a secluded spot where she would not be seen, and vaulted over the compound wall. It was not a difficult feat for someone with aura; she had no need to use her wings to help her clear the height or distance.

Assuming, as seemed likely, that Pyrrha’s watch was focussed on the front gate, then even if there were watchers who had not been drawn off, then they would still not see her leave.

Chrysalis switched her disguise back into Mistralian robes as she began to search the streets of Mistral.

She had not been here in quite some time, and not just because she’d been in prison for the last three years. Chrysalis had been born in Mistral – or rather in Windy Path, although her family had moved to Mistral when she had been young – but she herself had moved to Atlas a couple of years before Sienna Khan rose to leadership of the White Fang. Her last visit to Mistral had been a flying one, shortly after Ghira Belladonna stepped down from his position, when the new High Leader had gathered her lieutenants together, appointed her chapter masters, and set out the way that things were going to be from now on. After that, Chrysalis had returned to Atlas, never to leave Solitas again until Doctor Watts had assisted in her escape from captivity.

There were a lot of things that Chrysalis had not known about the way things stood in Mistral now until she got back here. There were a lot of things that she still didn’t know about Mistral. But she remembered these streets, the streets that she had grown up in, the streets that she had run through, the streets that had taught her the way of the world, and as she moved anonymously through those streets, she found that she also remembered how to find a White Fang safehouse.

The markings hadn’t changed since she had been here last.

And so, Chrysalis wandered down an alleyway that ran behind a fishmarket, the smell of rotting pilchards and tuna guts assailing her nostrils as she followed the markings – barely visible unless you knew to look for them – towards what looked to be a dingy dive of a bar.

A dingy dive of a bar with an armed guard outside.

A particularly incompetent armed guard, but still.

“Thorax,” Chrysalis hailed him in a cheerful tone, “I’m surprised to see you here in Mistral.”

Thorax was a rhinoceros beetle faunus, with a deceptively majestic-looking horn sprouting out of his forehead. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but he had a chunky machine pistol thrust into his belt, which he fingered nervously as Chrysalis approached.

“Th-thorax,” he stammered. “I-I don’t know who you’re talking about, Mister. My name is, uh, Crystal Hoof. Yeah, that’s me. Crystal Hoof, just a regular-“

“Member of the White Fang?” Chrysalis finished.

“Y-no!” Thorax yelped, as he pulled out his pistol and pointed it into Chrysalis’ face. “I don’t know what you think you know, but you need to forget everything about the White Fang and just… just get out of here, okay?”

“Or what?” Chrysalis asked. “You’ll shoot me?”

“I don’t want to,” Thorax said, his voice high-pitched with nervousness, “but I will.”

Chrysalis chuckled. “Not with the safety catch on, you won’t.”

The moment of shock on Thorax’s face was all she needed to wrest the gun out of his hands, shove him up against the wall, and point the pistol into his face. “Thorax, Thorax, Thorax,” she said, as her disguise fell away in a burst of green light. “You continue to disappoint me.”

Thorax swallowed. “Ch-Chrysalis?”

“In the flesh,” Chrysalis declared. “Now, I know that Sienna Khan wouldn’t hold court in a dump like this, so who are you supposed to be protecting out here?”

“Sienna Khan… isn’t here,” Thorax replied. “She went back to Menagerie after the Battle of Vale. She sent a messenger, told Pharynx that he was in charge of the Mistral chapter. He’s supposed to keep his head down and not make waves until… until we hear anything else. At least, that’s the last I’ve heard. My brother doesn’t tell me everything.”

“I’m not surprised,” Chrysalis muttered. Pharynx was an uninspired choice for head of the Mistral chapter in many ways: not a daring warrior, nor an imaginative one. On the other hand, he was a solid fighter, respected by his fellow fighters, and he could be trusted to hold the fort quietly if he was left unsupervised. No doubt, that, as much as any other quality of his, had served as his recommendation. “I am a little surprised that he left you on lookout.”

“I know,” Thorax said dispiritedly, “but there aren’t many of us left in the city, so…”

“So Pharynx makes do with what he has,” Chrysalis finished for him. “Why is he short-handed?”

“All of the attacks!” Thorax cried. “You know: the grimm, the bandits?”

“I thought that everyone’s darling Pyrrha Nikos was taking care of that?”

“She is, but some faunus communes don’t trust her,” Thorax said. “You know, because she’s human.”

“I’m aware,” Chrysalis said sharply. Mistral was large and spacious enough that a few faunus-only communities had sprung up here and there, places where their kind could live untroubled by humans and their prejudices. Like Menagerie, for people who thought that Kuo Kuana was too crowded or who didn’t like the sea. Since they rejected all contact with humans and their works, they tended to be very poor and rather backwards. “So, Pharynx has dispersed his strength defending the communes?”

“They are faunus,” Thorax protested. “We can’t just leave them.”

Why not? They’re of no help to us, Chrysalis thought. “It appears that I have arrived just in time,” she said. “Is Pharynx inside?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then come with me,” Chrysalis said, lowering her pistol and shoving him forward.

“I’m not supposed to-”

“Considering what a bad job you were doing as a guard, it will be better for the White Fang if you’re not here,” Chrysalis insisted, shoving him again.

Thorax led her up the shallow flight of steps towards the door, with its fading green paint that was peeling off in places. He pushed open the door, and Chrysalis quickly followed him inside.

The inside of the bar was badly lit, with only a few torches casting a soft orange glow and many shadows across the common room. At round wooden tables sat a few dispirited warriors, scarred in their bodies but, more importantly, with defeated looks in their eyes. This was not a stronghold of the White Fang; this was a group that had given up already.

Perhaps Pharynx sent most of his warriors out to defend the communes simply to give them something to do that they could take pride in.

“I see that I am back not a moment too soon,” Chrysalis declared as she strode in, her boots tapping like a drumbeat upon the wooden floor. She made her way to the centre of the inn and stopped, letting all eyes turn to her like flowers towards the sun.

Pharynx was sitting at a table near the back. He, like his brother, was a rhino beetle faunus, with a horn rising out of his forehead. He was much larger than his brother, though, and more muscular in build. He rose to his feet, his voice gruff as he said, “Chrysalis? Is that-? But you were-“

“Did you really believe that Atlesian chains could hold me captive while my people cried out in desperation?” Chrysalis asked. She smiled. “It is good to see you, Pharynx, although I had not looked to find you so far from Atlas.”

“The Atlas chapter isn’t what it was,” Pharynx replied. “After… after the wedding, the High Leader pretty much gave up on Atlas; there’s nothing there now but a recruiting party.”

“I see,” Chrysalis said, as much to herself as to him. I see the rot set in earlier than I thought. “Then it is a good thing that I came here, where I hope that I can still find warriors of courage, nerve, and daring.” She looked around the room, catching the eye of each man that she found there. “Some of you know me already. For those of you who do not, I am Chrysalis, former commander of the Atlas chapter of the White Fang. For three long years, the Atlesians have held me captive, but though they could brutalise me and humiliate me, though they could chain my body, they could neither chain nor break my spirit. For it is our spirit, the indomitable will of faunuskind, that will enable us to triumph over all of Atlas’s ships and armies, over police and huntsmen and all else besides. I am Chrysalis, and I return to you now at the hour of direst need. How many of you know of the treaty between Atlas and Menagerie? How many of you know just how Sienna Khan has betrayed us?”

The bar was silent for a moment before Pharynx said, “We know. We had a message from the High Leader-“

“The moment that the High Leader permits Atlesian soldiers to set foot upon the soil of Menagerie is the moment she ceases to be High Leader!” Chrysalis snarled, making Pharynx draw back as though her wrath was meant for him.

Chrysalis continued. “I know that the days have been dark for the White Fang since I was taken prisoner. Adam Taurus, the great hope of our cause, has fallen in battle; Blake Belladonna, whom many had looked to lead us in the years to come, has betrayed us all and sided with the Atlesian tyranny to put its boot upon our neck. Sienna Khan has surrendered Menagerie unfought and given up the refuge of our people to our enemies. We have had losses, we have had failures. But that is over now. Over and passed. I have returned. I have returned, and I say that the White Fang is not yet defeated, not while there is a warrior yet with the courage to draw steel for the cause of our people. Can such a fighter be found?”

“There’s one right here!” Pharynx declared, thumping his chest with one fist.

“And here!”

“Here!”

“I’m ready to fight!”

“We’re all ready!”

“I delight to hear it,” Chrysalis said. “I am glad to hear that there is still some courage left in you, for we will need our courage if we are to prevail. My brothers of the White Fang, the night is dark, but we stand upon the edge of dawn. I have returned, and I promise you that victory is within our grasp if only we will reach out and take it! If you will but follow me, I promise you the liberation of Menagerie and the downfall of Atlas that once we dreamed of. Our counterattack begins today, provided you answer one question: are you with me?”

Pharynx stared at her. Chrysalis stared at him. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Chrysalis felt as though she could see into his heart.

She knew that he would kneel before he knelt, perhaps before he even knew that he would kneel.

She was the queen, after all. What could he possibly do but kneel before her?

“We are the White Fang,” he declared, “and we are always ready to fight, and as the High Leader has abandoned us and our cause, we will follow you into battle. Command us, for we are yours.”

“I rejoice to hear you say so,” Chrysalis said. “For together, we will shake the pillars of the world. Recall your warriors from the outlying settlements. Inform the faunus there that they must put their trust in Mistral’s council and its warriors for the time being. We will require our strength closer at hand.”

“Why?” Pharynx asked. “The strength of the whole chapter is not enough to overcome the Myrmidons, the Imperial Guard, Rutulian-“

“Let me worry about Rutulian Security,” Chrysalis assured him. “As for the rest, as for what I intend to do once you have recalled your warriors, why, Pharynx, I will have them become soldiers of Mistral.”

Chrysalis was leaving the meeting, feeling well-satisfied with what she had accomplished in a very short space of time, when she found the Mistralian girl waiting for her outside.

She was out of place, too finely dressed to be standing in this low part of the city: a pretty girl, almost as beautiful as Cadance to look upon, with long blue-green hair curling down to fall over her shoulder and down her back. She wore a sword at her hip but was otherwise dressed in a two-shouldered chiton with a scandalously low and revealing cut of neckline. Golden hairclips shaped like laurel leaves glistened amongst her curls, while the belt she wore around her waist was likewise gold. Bracelets of purple amethysts, matching her eyes, gleamed upon her wrists.

She smiled. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing Chrysalis of the White Fang?”

Chrysalis’ eyes narrowed. She placed one hand upon the jagged hilt of her sword as she began to descend the steps into the street.

The Mistralian confronting her raised one bejewelled hand. “Please, there is no need for that. I am not here to fight, but rather, to offer you a proposition.”

Chrysalis’ eyes remained as narrow as before. “Indeed. What proposition does a lady of Mistral-?”

“Blonn Di,” she said. “Blonn Di Thrax, daughter of Lord Diomedes.”

“A daughter of the Steward,” Chrysalis remarked, in an even tone. “Should I be honoured by your presence to deal with a White Fang ruffian like myself?” She chuckled. “If you are here to speak, not fight, then perhaps you won’t mind telling me how you found me?”

“Pyrrha Nikos had an agent watching the house of Turnus Rutulus,” Blonn Di explained. “She noticed your arrival and, Pyrrha being a good girl, reported it to my sister Terri-Belle, Warden of the Mistral Tower. Terri-Belle, being just a little bit of a control freak, ordered Pyrrha’s agent replaced with some of our own trusted fellows. They followed you and Doctor Watts away from the house.”

“I am not the easiest person to follow,” Chrysalis replied.

“Once you know there’s a shapeshifter in the house it’s simple enough to follow everyone who leaves,” Blonn Di said. “Just in case.” Her smile was thin. “But the Warden of the Tower has many responsibilities that press upon her shoulders.”

“And so, she delegates the task that she has taken from Pyrrha Nikos and bestows it on the sister whom she trusts,” Chrysalis concluded. “More fool the Lady Terri-Belle, I presume.”

“Our agents watching the house of Rutulus report to me,” Blonn Di answered. “I can ensure that your comings and goings are not reported any further.”

“Very generous of you,” Chrysalis said. “And what would you have of me in return?”

“I have heard that you are a great menace to the stability of our kingdom,” Blonn Di said. “I have heard that you can topple cities and set whole kingdoms tilting on their axis.”

“Is that what you desire? To set Mistral tilting?”

“My father is an old man,” Blonn Di declared, “and his rule is failing. It is time for some new blood at the head of our kingdom. Whatever Turnus Rutulus thinks that he can offer you in return for your service, I promise that when I am Steward of Mistral, I will be more generous than he could dream of.”

Chrysalis wanted to laugh out loud. Ah, Mistral. She had lived here, in the kingdom of her birth, and she had lived in Atlas, and the contrast was so very instructive. Here in Mistral, these grand old families of Thrax and Rutulus and Nikos prated of their history and their honour, but the truth was that any of them would sell their nearest and dearest for the mere whiff of an advantage. If this girl had any honour at all, or any care for the wellbeing of her kingdom, then she would have had armed soldiers waiting to confront Chrysalis and force her surrender. Instead, she was willing to betray her father and the sister who trusted her, and all for a lordly seat and title. Meanwhile, in Atlas… much as she loathed the place, she was forced to concede that there was more honour in the wretchedly righteous Twilight Sparkle than in all of these old Mistralian families.

Of course, the Atlesian honour would be their downfall no less than the Mistralian treachery, but at least Twilight and her friends could take comfort in knowing that they had done the right thing as they died painfully, begging Chrysalis for mercy.

What would these Mistralians think, as they died?

Chrysalis found she didn’t really care. Mistral was just a stepping stone to what she really wanted. Menagerie, and her revenge.

A stepping stone that had just been gift-wrapped for her.

Chrysalis smirked. “My lady,” she said, as she offered a low, sweeping bow, “I am at your service.”

“Excellent,” Blonn Di said. “Because you know I will be watching you, and if you displease me, then-”

“Please, my lady, there is no need for threats,” Chrysalis implored her. “Nothing could be further from my mind than treachery. I swear to you upon my honour that I have never failed to keep faith with those who placed their faith in me. I swear upon the woods and streams of Mistral that my lady shall receive exactly what she deserves.”

"Okay," Nora said. "Let me get this straight. We have two princesses-"

"Technically speaking, neither of us are actual princesses," Swift Foot pointed out. "'How many years does it take to make a Steward a king?' A lot more than eighty, in this part of the world."

"And I wish you wouldn't refer to me in that way, Nora, even if it is only hyperbolic," Pyrrha added.

Nora continued on as though neither of them had spoken. "-two celebrity tournament fighters-"

Arslan slapped the table. "Guilty as charged."

"That I will not deny," Pyrrha acknowledged. "Much as there have been times when I wished I could do so."

"-an award-winning playwright-"

"And comedian, and writer, and… you know, I can do so many things, it's terrible that I'm less well known than those of you here whose only accomplishment is hitting things," Autumn declared, with laughter ringing in her voice.

"And Ditzy… Ditzy!" Nora finished.

Ditzy raised one hand. "Thanks for inviting me!"

"So my question is," Nora finished, "with all of this… what in Remnant are we doing in a place like this?" She leapt to her feet – it didn't make her seem much taller – and spread her arms out wide on either side of her to encompass not only the booth into which they were crowded but also the entire bar.

Coming to this place – Swift Foot hadn't caught the name of it as they arrived – had been the idea of Autumn Blaze, and to be perfectly honest, Swift Foot could understand Nora's point. It didn't exactly look low or dingy, but that might be because the lights were kept so dim – and so red everything had a crimson glow to it, and everybody looked as though they were blushing furiously – that they could hide a multitude of sins. The tables were wood and slightly sticky to the touch, which was why Swift Foot had her hands on her knees instead of on the table. The upholstery was as red as the lighting and didn't stand out much, although the cushions in the booth were soft enough for Swift Foot's taste, making her slightly worried that there was something hiding in them. It wasn't packed out, but it was reasonably full, with plenty of patrons filling up the booths and tables.

"Hey!" Autumn Blaze protested. "This place is great, I wrote the first draft of Down the Slope here."

"That explains why it's one of your lesser works," Swift Foot remarked.

Autumn Blaze guffawed. "You may think that, but every theatre critic in Mistral would disagree with you, and so would the box office, so… yeah."

"And who am I to argue with critical and popular consensus?" Swift Foot asked, "but, all the same, I have to agree with Nora – and not just because she scares me, although that is part of it –"

"Are you this cheeky around your sisters? Because no wonder they don't want you back," Nora cried.

"I thought that we were going to go somewhere a little nicer than this," Swift Foot finished. "I mean, look at Pyrrha!"

Everyone looked at Pyrrha. Even Pyrrha looked at Pyrrha, or at least, she looked down at herself. Pyrrha was dressed in a red quipao with a modest boob window and delicate golden scrollwork adorning the bodice and shoulders. One of her arms was concealed beneath a black opera glove, while her golden armband reclaimed its old station around her left arm, and her gleaming circlet kept its familiar place upon her brow. "I do feel rather overdressed," Pyrrha admitted.

In fairness, she wasn't the only one. As much as Nora had been the one to complain about the location, she was dressed pretty appropriately for it in a black t-shirt with 'BOOP' emblazoned across the chest and a pink skirt that stopped just above her knees. Ditzy, on the other hand, was wearing a lacy white mini-dress with a floral print, while Swift Foot was garbed in a traditional two-shouldered chiton of green, with turquoise broaches securing the shoulders and a belt of spun silver. Arslan hadn't bothered to change clothes.

"Nobody cares," Autumn assured her. "So long as we're having fun, does it matter what we're wearing? That's why I brought you guys here, so that we could have fun in a nice place and not have to mind our manners like we would in a classy joint."

"Makes sense to me," Arslan agreed.

"Okay, so we're here," Swift Foot said. "What are going to do?" She glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha herself looked a little uncertain about that. "Swift Foot, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you invited me," Swift Foot reminded her.

"You invited all of us," Arslan clarified.

"Yes, but…" Pyrrha hesitated, "I just thought that it might be nice for us all to go out like this somewhere. I didn't… I don't really have a plan. I thought that one of you might… I've never done anything like this before."

"Really?" Arslan demanded sceptically. "Never."

"You say that like it's so strange," Swift Foot said.

"It is a little strange," Ditzy admitted.

"Not for people like us," Swift Foot protested. "This isn't our world; we don't do… whatever this is."

"Because you're poor, sheltered, rich girls, yes, we know," Arslan said, "but even so."

"You seriously never did anything like this in Vale with Ruby and Sunset?" cried Nora.

"I think I would have tried to keep Ruby away from places like this," Pyrrha declared, with just a touch of severity entering her voice. "No offence, Autumn, but we are talking about a fifteen-year-old girl."

"None taken," Autumn said genially. "That is a little young."

"And as for Sunset," Pyrrha continued. "Sunset… Sunset might have been able to enjoy a place like this if she'd been with someone else who genuinely liked it here… but I'm not certain that this is the kind of place that she would have sought out on her own initiative and not the kind of place she would have tried to take me or Ruby." She smiled slightly, but it was a smile that was touched by melancholy, like a rose touched by a sudden frost. "I think that… she might have been embarrassed to try or else not wanted to have embarrassed me." She bowed her head, and a sigh escaped her.

Ditzy reached out across the table and took Pyrrha's hand. "You miss her, don't you?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Very much so," she admitted. "I… no offence to you, to any of you girls, but Sunset and Ruby… they were like my family. I didn't know that it was possible to have such dear friends in the world until I came to Beacon and joined Team Sapphire. And now… I don't even know if they're alive or dead." She looked around the table and seemed to make an effort to smile. "I apologise; I'm bringing down the mood horrendously, aren't I?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Nora told her. "We get it." She glanced around at her companions. "Okay, I get it."

"We all get it," Ditzy corrected. "Even those of us who didn't have a team that we loved, we still understand what it's like to have people like that, right?"

Swift Foot shrugged. "If I was to say that someone was like my family, it wouldn't be as much of a compliment." She recoiled – as much as the booth allowed – as everyone stared at her. "What?"

"You can't drop a bomb like that and then just stop!" Autumn said. "Share with the group!"

Swift Foot snorted. "Share with all the readers on your blog, you mean, Miss Blaze? Thank you, but I'd rather not."

Autumn shook her head. "I give you my word," she swore, "that none of what you say will leave this booth." She paused. "Although a character bearing similarities to you might end up somewhere, depending on what you say."

"I don't know what you expect me to say," Swift Foot replied. "My father… let's not talk about my father, because that's not what this was about; it's just that… Shining Light and Blonn Di… like I said, if I were to say that you were like my sisters, I wouldn't be paying you a compliment. Terri-Belle is brave and noble… but she's also eleven years older than I am, so…" Swift Foot took a deep breath. "Pyrrha, I am sorry about your friends and your parting from them… but at least you had to experience that companionship, that togetherness. Is that not a thing to treasure? For all the pain that you feel now, is not the belonging that you felt then still something of which we should be envious, we who have not felt such a thing?"

"What are you talking about?" Nora demanded. "How can you not feel it? You've got us now!"

Swift Foot's eyes widened. "I… what?"

Pyrrha smiled, gently and with kindness in her eyes. "You are still new to our ranks, Swift Foot Thrax," she declared, "but you are one of us now, and we are with you not only in battle, but in all things."

Swift Foot looked at them all. All smiling at her, all so earnest, without a trace of falsehood or deception in their faces. She ought to have despised them. She ought to have mocked them all as naïve and gullible fools, for they were naïve, and they were gullible, and that naïveté did make them foolish.

But she could not mock them for it, nor could she hold them in contempt. Not even inwardly could she scorn their words, for their words had touched her.

How can something so stupid also be the nicest thing that anyone's ever said to me?

"You… you…" Swift Foot shook her head. "You are the noblest company in Mistral, beyond doubt. Your virtue deserves the renown your skill in battle has brought upon you. And I… I am proud to stand alongside you all."

“Aww, we love you too, New Girl,” Nora cooed – prompting a mutter of ‘my name is Swift Foot’ from Swift Foot – before she said, “Now stop bringing down the mood, and let’s get to the girls’ night stuff!”

“Didn’t we just establish that these two don’t have any idea what girls’ night is?” Arslan said.

Nora rolled her eyes. “You know: where we get drunk, laugh a lot, talk about boys, and confess our undying sisterhood!”

“We’ve done the last one already,” Arslan pointed out.

“Then we’d better get started on the rest, hadn’t we?” Nora demanded.

That was a little difficult, considering that Pyrrha and Arslan didn’t drink, and Swift Foot was too young, but Nora seemed determined to give it the Academy try by drinking enough for all the rest of them put together. She whooped with increasingly inebriated glee with every shot she downed, her face getting redder and redder as the night wore on.

Eventually, the talk turned to boys.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, her words becoming a little slurred as she rested her head against the table. “We’ve been together such a long long long loooooong time. So what do I have to do, huh?” She let out a moaning sigh. “What am I supposed to do?” Ditzy gave her a kindly but ultimately ineffectual pat on the shoulder, in lieu of the fact that none of them knew what she was supposed to do. None of them even knew what to say.

And in the end, they had to carry Nora home. Which certainly wasn’t something that Swift Foot had imagined herself ever doing when her father ordered her to enter the house of Pyrrha Nikos, find out her plans, and destabilise her company.

But as she helped carry the barely conscious Nora Valkyrie back to the house of Pyrrha Nikos, Swift Foot felt as though there was nowhere that she’d rather be.

Possible Treason

Possible Treason

“I can’t believe that the Steward is throwing a party at a time like this,” Jaune grumbled, as the party made its way towards the palace.

“Some might say that a time like this is the perfect time to throw a party,” Lady Nikos declared as they approached the broad path that led directly to the palace doors. Jaune could see other revellers moving ahead of them, ladies in gowns of various Mistralian fashions, gentlemen in a mixture of Valish-Atlesian suits or else more traditional togas and kimono. He didn’t see any of the ladies wearing Valish or Atlesian style gowns, but he had to admit that he wasn’t paying very much attention as they shuffled forwards down the way illuminated by the lanterns that lined the roadside, casting their golden glow upon the ground.

“With all due respect, my lady, who would say that?” Jaune asked, trying to keep the sharpness out of his voice. Lady Nikos was a keen observer of the people of her class, but that didn’t make her responsible for their follies or their faults. It just meant that she understood them a lot better than he did.

“The Council, and Mistral itself, has been sorely rocked in these recent months,” Lady Nikos reminded him, as though Jaune might have forgotten if she hadn’t brought it up. “The threats of the grimm and the bandits, compounded by what seemed to them like the greater threat posed by Pyrrha’s popularity-”

“A phantom threat, only,” Pyrrha said. She was dressed in a red chiton, with a pair of golden brooches at the shoulders and a pearl choker with a large emerald set in the centre of it tight around her neck. Golden bracelets, likewise set with emeralds, gleamed upon her wrists.

“Yet phantoms, though they are not real, will yet frighten children,” Swift Foot observed. “They kept me trembling in my bed often enough when I was young.”

“One would hope that the Councillors of the Kingdom would have more sense than children frightened of ghosts,” Pyrrha replied.

“The ghosts that frightened them were real enough,” Swift Foot pointed out. “It was only that their intent was misunderstood.”

“Indeed, Lady Swift Foot,” Lady Nikos said in good humour. “The Councillors and nobles observed Pyrrha’s rise, asked themselves ‘what would I do, had I such might and such love amongst the commons,’ and petrified themselves by the answers that confronted them.”

“You should not joke about that, mother,” Pyrrha said heavily. “It hardly seems to me to be a thing to laugh and joke about, that so many of our rulers and our great families have so lost any feeling for this kingdom and its people that they could not conceive that I and all my comrades sought nothing more than to do what was right for the sake of right… rather, it brings me close to despair.”

“Take heart, Pyrrha,” Swift Foot implored, reaching out to place a hand on Pyrrha’s arm. “You… you are not wrong, or at least you are not wholly wrong. Too many in this city are consumed by ambition, and so, they see ambition everywhere. But by underestimating yourself, such as to make it seem that you are motivated by mere common charity, such as might drive a man with lien to spare to toss some money to a beggar on the street… by lowering yourself thus, you lower also all those who are beneath you. Your nobility raises you up, but those beneath you are not dirt; rather, they are but men, while you are more than that.”

Pyrrha looked embarrassed. “That… that is very kind of you, Swift Foot.”

“I spoke not in kindness, but in honesty,” Swift Foot insisted, cutting off anything more that Pyrrha might have said. “You… you have inspired me, my lady, and many others in this house besides.”

“That’s still kind of you to say,” Jaune interrupted, “but it doesn’t change the fact that the only reason the Council or anybody else ever had to be afraid of Pyrrha is because they ascribed to her their own worst motives. And it still doesn’t change the fact that this is a terrible time to be holding a party.”

Little more than a week had passed since all the forces of Mistral had come together under the leadership of Lady Terri-Belle. Almost as much time had passed since envoys of Mistral had been despatched across the Kingdom to spread the word to the various bandit tribes that pardons and lordships and the rule of many prosperous lands were available to those who would bend the knee and serve the council. Since then, the bandit attacks had lessened but not diminished, a fact which correlated with the failure of some of the messengers to return to Mistral, and the grimm attacks hardly seemed to have let up at all. All the forces of Mistral had, at some point, sallied forth in defence of the Kingdom and its settlements: the Myrmidons to this place, the Company of the Wolf to that, the Imperial Guard to here, and Rutulian Security to there. The record of success of these disparate forces was somewhat uneven. The Myrmidons, if it was not too proud of him to say so, continued their record of success, between Pyrrha’s leadership in the field, his own judgement in the command centre and the fact they’d managed to snatch up all the best young huntsmen while no one else was looking. The Company of the Wolf had struggled more, between its smaller numbers and the fact that it had far fewer young huntsmen and far more tournament fighters, unfamiliar with the grimm. Rutulian Security had surprised Jaune - although the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why he had been surprised - by turning out to possess Atlesian-style air support, as Turnus transported his huntsmen into battle in Skyrays which rained down missile fire upon the enemy as the warriors disembarked. The effectiveness of the Imperial Guard appeared to vary depending on whether Terri-Belle was leading them, or if she had delegated that task to her sister Shining Light.

But, despite some teething problems for some forces freshly being thrown into battle, at least none of them had lost a battle. No village or town that had come under attack by grimm had been lost so long as the settlement survived long enough for help to arrive.

And apparently that was enough for the Steward of Mistral to decide that now was the perfect time to hold a party.

Does it make me a hypocrite if I complain about this while we’re on our way to this party?

A grin flashed across Swift Foot’s face. “Not wishing to downplay the seriousness of the situation, but I think that, before we interrupted her, Lady Nikos was about to explain to us why a terrible time is the perfect time for revelry.”

Jaune bowed his head. “I apologise, my lady. Please, continue.”

“There is no need to apologise; in some respects, you are right to be so incredulous,” Lady Nikos said. “But the fact is that, with all that has transpired, the Steward must show that Mistral remains strong in the face of danger, and presenting a brave face before this gathering is part of that. And besides, tonight is the night when the first bandit chieftains to take the Council’s pardon will be presented to the people as our new Shire Reeves.”

“Which is why we have to go,” Pyrrha declared. “We need to see who we might be up against.”

“And besides,” Lady Nikos added, “when all others have come, we cannot stay away.”

No, that was it, wasn’t it? That was why they had to be here, however inappropriate being here was.

And so, Jaune, Pyrrha, Swift Foot - as the Steward’s daughter, she could hardly stay away - and Lady Nikos made their way down the path lined with lanterns towards the palace.

Amidst the throng, they were ushered into the Fountain Courtyard, where the ornately armoured ceremonial guards yet stood watch around the stagnant fountain, waiting for the day when the empty throne would be filled and the waters would run clear once more.

Jaune was surprised to hear Pyrrha and himself announced as ‘Captains of the Myrmidons.’ He glanced over at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha slipped her hand into his. “You’re my partner, Jaune, my equal in everything.”

The eyes of those guests already in the courtyard, milling about the fountain and the gleaming colonnades, were turned towards Pyrrha and her party. But those gazes turned away after a moment, with people losing interest in the Myrmidon leadership and returning to whatever affairs had occupied them in the moment before. The four of them moved into the courtyard, joining the throng of notables who filled it.

“If you will pardon me, Lady Pyrrha,” Swift Foot murmured. “There is something that I must attend to.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “Have fun.”

“Unlikely, but thank you anyway,” Swift Foot replied, with a slightly pained expression, before she withdrew into the crowd that now swirled all about them.

The first person to actually approach from out of the bustling throng of assembled nobles and great ones was Camilla Volsci, Turnus’ right-hand woman. She was dressed in a one-shouldered chiton of periwinkle blue, with a sash with a tiger skin pattern tied around her waist. A silver ring set with a large ruby, matching the colour of her eyes, glistened on her finger as she approached them diffidently, with a touch of uncertainty.

As she reached the party, she bowed her head. “Lady Nikos,” she said, “Lady Pyrrha.”

“Camilla,” Pyrrha replied, in a tone that was even and neutral, neither hostile nor friendly.

Camilla’s eyes flickered towards Jaune. “Mister Arc, may I beg the favour of a word with you? In private?”

“By 'in private,' you mean 'alone'?” Pyrrha asked, the neutrality of her tone disrupted by a touch of suspicion.

Camilla stiffened visibly. “Do you think that I am so lost to honour that I would murder your betrothed by treachery? Or do you perhaps think me so lost to sense that I would seek his death in the midst of the Steward’s Palace, or that I am not aware of the vengeance that would justly fall upon my head were I to do such a thing?”

Pyrrha replied. “You will forgive me if I find it a little harder to trust the honour of the House of Rutulus than I once might have.”

Camilla stared at her for a moment, back straight and proud, but after that moment passed, she sagged a little. “I understand,” she said, as the pride leaked from her tone, “but I give you my word – my word, and mine alone – that I mean no harm to you, Jaune Arc. If you will come with me… you may learn something to your advantage.”

And you can’t say it in front of everyone because…? Jaune wondered. But it occurred to him that the reason could be that people’s eyes and ears would be more likely to follow them if Pyrrha were with them.

Of course, it could be a trap, but at the same time, Camilla was right: if they wanted to murder him, there had to be better ways of doing it.

“Okay,” he said. “Lead the way.”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, her grip upon his hand tightening a little, “are you sure about this?”

“I’ll be fine,” he told her. He grinned. “And if I’m not, I’ll scream for help.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “And I’ll come running.”

“I know,” he said, and leaned forward to brush his lips lightly over hers. He turned away, letting her hand fall from his grasp. “Let’s go,” he told Camilla.

Camilla nodded. “I… I will bring him back safe and sound, or at least I will take leave of him in the state that I found him,” she vowed to Pyrrha before she turned away, walking slower than she needed to for Jaune to keep up, possibly because she didn’t want to seem to be rushing anywhere.

The night was cool. It was spring now, but the temperatures weren’t starting to rise just yet, and very few braziers had been lit in the courtyard to spread warmth. Soft music drifted through the air, mingling with the conversation of the revellers amongst whom they moved as Camilla led Jaune out to a balcony on the edge of the palace. The lights of the city glistened down below, descending the slope of the mountainside.

Since she had brought him here, Jaune had expected that Camilla would take the lead in saying whatever it was that she had to say, but she did not. She stood with her back to him, her hands resting upon the stone balcony rail, looking down at Mistral as it fell away beneath them both.

Jaune fiddled with his cufflinks idly while he waited to learn what he was doing here.

“You must forgive my reticence,” Camilla said, as a cool breeze played with her long white hair. Her vulpine ears flattened down miserably atop her head. “What I am about to tell you could be considered treachery.”

Jaune frowned. “'Could be'?”

Camilla turned to face him. “I would not call it so,” she informed him. She looked away. “But I understand that others might. Perhaps even Turnus might do so.” Her face was stricken, her melancholy clear as the moonlight fell upon her pale white skin. Her red eyes flickered towards him. “You are betrothed to Pyrrha Nikos, so I assume that you are in her confidence. Is that not so?”

“It is,” Jaune replied. “I know… everything that Pyrrha does.”

Camilla nodded. “That is well. Then the name of Salem means much to you?”

Jaune swallowed. “It means a great deal to me,” he growled, “and none of it good.”

Camilla winced as if she had been struck. “Juturna… Juturna thinks that she can use Salem to her own purposes. She is a fool, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Jaune said, his voice hoarse. “Salem’s only interest is in what Salem wants. The people who serve her… she only uses people until…”

“Until they are no longer useful,” Camilla whispered, her voice almost snatched away by the night air. “Gods, Juturna, what have you done?”

Jaune didn’t answer that. She wasn't talking to him.

Camilla looked at him. Her voice was firmer now, and more resolute. “Salem has sent two envoys to Mistral: Doctor Watts, and Chrysalis of the White Fang. Do you know them?”

“By reputation,” Jaune answered. “For better or… no, probably for better, I’ve never met either of them. But I know who they are, and I have some idea of what they’re capable of.”

“They are in our house, at this very moment,” Camilla informed him.

Jaune already knew that, but decided that it might not be a good idea to admit it. “To do what?”

“To help, allegedly,” Camilla said.

“To help with what?” Jaune demanded. “What did Juturna even get involved with Salem for in the first place?”

“For the ambitions of her brother,” Camilla admitted. “I… I should not tell you this, but… Turnus wishes to become King of Mistral. That was why he had Lionheart frustrate the Council’s response to the grimm and bandit attacks to-”

“To make the Council look weak and discredit its legitimacy,” Jaune murmured. “That’s-”

“The methods that he undertook to reach the throne are wrong, I know,” Camilla said. “I should have spoken up against them, and I regret that I did not. But… you may not believe me, but he would be a good king if he were put on the throne.”

Jaune couldn’t help but frown. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t think that a murderer and a man who abandons his friends and his people is the kind of man who ought to have supreme power over a kingdom.”

Camilla’s eyes flashed with anger. “You repeat calumnies and base slanders hurled against Turnus by his enemies. He is no murderer.”

“He’s killed sixteen people!”

“And how many people have you killed, Jaune Arc?” Camilla demanded.

Jaune was silent for a moment. He turned away from her. “Only one,” he said. “And that was in battle.”

“And Turnus has killed men in duels,” Camilla insisted. “Duels they agreed to. He did not seek them out and stab them in the back or cut their throats while they lay sleeping; they faced him fairly on the field of honour and were found wanting.”

Jaune looked at her over his shoulder. “Did he face his team upon the field of honour too?”

Camilla bowed her head. “That… Turnus had his reasons. They were… unworthy men, wretches undeserving of honourable treatment. Turnus… I do not wish to discuss my lord’s past with you any more than I would expect you to discuss your lady with me. Suffice to say that he is a valiant man, and honest, true, and honourable; fierce to his enemies, generous to his friends. He is a man of strength and vision both. He is a man… of many parts, and so many of them… wonderful.”

That last word was said with a sigh. Jaune turned, and now, it was his turn to lean upon the balcony rail, his back to the city below him. A slight smile creased his features. “Do you love him?”

Camilla blinked in surprise. A red flush coloured her cheeks. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“It takes one to know one,” Jaune told her. “I’d know that tone of voice anywhere.”

Camilla stared at him for a moment. “He… I… there is much in Turnus Rutulus to love,” she said. “It may offend your Valish sensibilities, Mister Arc, but… five of those duels were in defence of my honour, after I had been insulted on account of what I am.” Her tail twitched, leaving Jaune in little doubt as to what she meant. She hesitated. “As for his Atlesian team… Turnus invited them to come to Mistral with him during one of the vacations. I believe that Pyrrha brought you here last year, in just such a way.”

Jaune nodded. “She wanted to share her home with her new friends.”

“Turnus… he had forgotten that not all in Atlas look kindly upon the faunus,” Camilla confessed, her voice trembling. “They… toyed with my affections, they… they were not gentlemen.” She blinked, and it seemed to Jaune that he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, reflected in the moonlight. “How can you not love a man who is willing to kill for you and your honour? Especially when there is so much else in him to love also?”

Jaune, who was not at all sure that he would want Pyrrha to go around killing people on his behalf, said nothing to that. “So, if you love him-”

“Why does he want to marry your fiancée?”

Jaune let out a snort of laughter. “I was going to ask why you’re talking to me here tonight.”

“Oh,” Camilla said.

“But I wouldn’t mind an answer to the other one, too,” Jaune said.

Camilla covered her mouth with one hand as he chuckled. “Because… I would like to say that it is because he doesn’t know. I would like to think that one day, it will all come together in his mind, and he will look around and see that… that I’ve been there this entire time, waiting.” She sighed. “But that won’t happen, will it? The world doesn’t work that way.”

“It did for Pyrrha,” Jaune told her.

Camilla stared at him. He could see the amazement building on her face as she realised what he had just said. “You… it was not you who pursued her?”

“No,” Jaune admitted. “Pyrrha… it just took me a little while to figure it out.”

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Camilla said, “the Champion of Mistral, the Princess Without a Crown, fell in love with you, and you were the one who took a little while to realise?”

“You don’t need to say it like that,” Jaune replied, with a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

Camilla approached the balcony, coming to stand beside him but facing the other way, out towards the city. There was a touch of amusement in her voice as she said, “Perhaps I should be talking to someone a little less dense.”

Jaune shook his head. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you’re like me,” Camilla replied. “We are not born to this glittering world, and we are both so… so privileged to be a part of their lives.” She glanced up at him. “You do understand how lucky you are, don’t you?”

“I may be dense, but I’m not that dense,” Jaune informed her. He paused. “So what’s the answer?”

“Hmm?”

“To my question? If you love him then… why are you betraying him?”

“I would not call it a betrayal,” Camilla whispered. She fell silent, but when she spoke again her voice was stronger. “Their father was a good man. An officer of the law. One of the few honest lawmen in the recent history of this unhappy city. He… he rescued me from… I would have been sold into slavery for my rare features and my looks, but he rescued me. He took me into his house and raised me alongside his own children. He gave me everything that I could wish for… but I have not forgotten what it was like before he saved me, what it is like to be alone, to be scared, to be vulnerable. Turnus and Juturna… they do not understand that. Neither of them… they have spent their entire lives able to have things their own way, to have whatever they want, to order things as they will. I do not begrudge them that, nor do I judge them for it, but… I fear that Salem and her creatures will care nothing for wealth or noble blood.”

“You fear correct,” Jaune said. “Salem doesn’t give a damn about anything but what Salem wants.”

Camilla nodded. “I would not see Juturna hurt. When you stop Salem, she… Juturna meant no harm. She only meant to set her brother on a throne that he deserves to sit on.”

Jaune made no comment on that. “What are they planning?”

“There is a weapon under Haven Academy, did you know that?”

“I did,” Jaune said. “Do you know what kind of weapon it is?”

“No,” Camilla replied. “And neither does Lionheart.” She glanced at Jaune. “Do you know?”

“No,” Jaune lied… in part, at least. He knew that it was the Relic of Knowledge buried beneath Haven Academy, although he had no idea what, precisely, the relic was or did. “But I’m pretty sure Lionheart does.”

Camilla looked at him, frowning. “He has lied to us?”

“Do you know about Professor Ozpin?” Jaune asked.

Camilla nodded.

“Lionheart was deep in his confidence,” Jaune told her. “Ozpin had no secrets from him, and Ozpin definitely knew what the weapon underneath Haven was.” It felt a little wrong, to lie to this girl who had come to him out of the goodness of her spirit to tell him all of this, but the opportunity to sow a little discord in the enemy camp was too good to pass up.

“He lied to us,” Camilla hissed. “I will… thank you, Mister Arc, for telling me that.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Jaune said. “Can Salem’s agents get to the weapon?”

“No,” Camilla told him. “At least that is what they have told us.”

“I believe that,” Jaune informed her, feeling a sense of relief that they had not yet found the Spring Maiden; if they had, Camilla would have mentioned a new girl turning up in the house alongside Watts and Chrysalis.

“Because they need a girl,” Camilla said. “A living key to open the door?”

Jaune nodded. “Exactly. And they don’t have her yet?”

“Apparently not,” Camilla said softly. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” Jaune answered, honestly. “What else are they doing? Are they behind the disappearances of Manjushage?”

“No,” Camilla declared firmly. “Turnus would have no part in that, and neither would Juturna.”

He was willing to let them be attacked by grimm without lifting a finger to stop them, Jaune thought, but held his peace on that.

“Doctor Watts investigated Manjushage himself,” Camilla informed Jaune. “He found evidence of powerful energy weapon discharge, far more powerful than anything in service with the Atlesian forces short of the main cannon on a cruiser, which it cannot be because the angle of the shot was too shallow by far; any ship would have had to be no more than thirty feet off the ground. It baffled him.”

I’d like to know how magic stacks up against Atlesian energy weapons, Jaune thought.

“Can you save them?” Camilla demanded, turning to face Jaune. “Can you defeat these agents of Salem and save my… can you do it?”

Jaune looked down at her. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But we’ll try. We won’t hurt either of them if it can possibly be avoided.”

Camilla looked visibly relieved to hear it. Her whole body sagged forwards. “You are a good man, Jaune Arc,” she said. “I believe that you are… worthy of Pyrrha Nikos.”

And you deserve better than Turnus Rutulus, Jaune thought. But in the end, all he said was, “You’re pretty great yourself, Camilla Volsci. On behalf of Pyrrha and myself, you have our thanks.”

Swift Foot had not wanted to leave Pyrrha’s side, but she had no real choice. Terri-Belle would expect a report from her. She hoped that it would only be Terri-Belle whom she had to report to and not their father.

There was always a chance that Terri-Belle might listen.

And so, Swift Foot found a secluded spot in the corner of the room, away from any of the other guests, mostly hidden behind a couple of gleaming columns, listening to the gentle music as she waited for her elder sister to find her.

Terri-Belle found her soon enough, and Swift Foot was a little surprised to see her elder sister dressed in a Valish-style tuxedo, with a white bow tie and a turquoise cummerbund wrapped around her waist.

“Sister,” Swift Foot murmured, “you’re-”

“Don’t look at me like that, you know I can’t stand dressing up,” Terri-Belle growled under her breath. “Dressing up in dresses especially.”

“Yes,” Swift Foot conceded, “and yet somehow you’re the most uniquely dressed woman in the room.”

“I’m here for your report, not your critique of my dress sense,” Terri-Belle declared sharply and a little defensively.

Swift Foot nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry, sister.”

“It’s fine,” Terri-Belle replied brusquely, but not unkindly. “So, what have you to report? What progress have you made?”

Now we come to it, Swift Foot thought. She took a deep breath. “None,” she admitted. “But that’s because… Terri-Belle, I’m not even sure that I should be making progress.”

“What?” Terri-Belle asked, disbelief in her voice. “What are you talking about? Have you not even been trying?”

“Trying to do what?” Swift Foot asked. “Destabilise one of the companies under your command?”

“I can defend the kingdom without the Myrmidons,” Terri-Belle snapped.

“They’re the best force you have in hand, and you know that,” Swift Foot insisted. “They have more combat experience, they have Jaune’s tactical savvy, they have Pyrrha-”

“Pyrrha Nikos is exactly why you were sent into that house in the first place,” Terri-Belle interrupted, as though Swift Foot could have forgotten. “Pyrrha Nikos-”

“Is not our enemy,” Swift Foot interrupted in turn. “She is a loyal servant of Mistral-”

“That is not the same thing as serving our father,” Terri-Belle countered.

“Perhaps if our father thought more of serving Mistral than of himself, then he wouldn’t be worrying more about Mistral’s greatest warrior than about the dangers and the enemies that throng about it,” Swift Foot countered right back.

Terri-Belle glared at her, jaw clenched, her eyes blazing with anger… but also with guilt, as well. She looked away, her hands clenching into fists. “You’re an insolent little brat, you know that?”

“I’m speaking the truth,” Swift Foot said quietly. “That can sometimes be uncomfortable.”

Terri-Belle snorted. “I am not blind to our failings with regards to the defence of this kingdom, believe me. We should have gone out to fight for our people, regardless of the risk. It might even have reduced the risk by giving people someone besides Pyrrha to fawn upon. But all the same… you are not a Myrmidon, don’t forget that.”

“Why not?” Swift Foot asked. “I have pledged my sword to Pyrrha Nikos; I have fought alongside her and her comrades.”

“Because our father sent you there to spy on her,” Terri-Belle reminded her. “You told us that she was the Fall Maiden.”

“That she has more power than we thought doesn’t make her dangerous.”

“Power in the wrong hands is always dangerous.”

“And who decides who the wrong hands are?” Swift Foot demanded. “Father? You?”

“Why not Father, why not the Steward of Mistral?”

“The Steward appointed by the Emperor, to handle his affairs in his absence,” Swift Foot reminded.

“Mistral has no Emperor,” Terri-Belle growled. “Mistral needs no Emperor.” She placed a heavy hand upon Swift Foot’s shoulder. “Is that what she has done to you? Has she converted you to her cause?”

“It’s not her cause,” Swift Foot insisted, trying and failing to shrug off her elder sister’s grip. “She does not desire the throne, only to help her kingdom and defend her people. But for that reason, out of all the people who would crown themselves as master of the city if they could… I think that she might be the only one who actually deserves it.

“This is Mistral, sister,” Swift Foot continued. “We are the first and eldest of the realms of men, and what have we done with it? Father’s rule fails, and our people lose hope-”

“Then I will set it right!” Terri-Belle snarled. “I do not need Pyrrha Nikos, last of a house long bereft of lordship, to usurp my place.”

Swift Foot shook her head. “The fact that you talk this way… we could be so much more than the nation of petty politics we have become. Across the four kingdoms, our warriors are renowned as the most valiant in Remnant, but the best of them seek out Beacon or Atlas to be trained, while here in Mistral, we squabble for titles and advantages, counting our privileges dearer than the lives of our people. But in Pyrrha… in her, the valour of the Mistral of old, the Mistral that we invoke in our pride but whose spirit we abandoned long ago, lives again.”

“You would use her as a puppet?” Terri-Belle asked. “To put her who does not seek the throne upon it and then use her-”

“No!” Swift Foot cried. “The fact that you can say that… please, Terri-Belle, listen to me. Pyrrha… she has inspired me in ways that I never thought possible. I think it only right that she has the chance to inspire the rest of Mistral too.”

Terri-Belle released her grip on Swift Foot’s shoulder. She took a step back, staring at her as though she didn’t know her anymore. “I…” she began. “Swift Foot, I…” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand. “I don’t know whether to yell at you or embrace you or both.”

“Um… I’d understand the first one a little more,” Swift Foot suggested hesitantly.

“The valour of Mistral of old,” Terri-Belle muttered, shaking her head. “You sound… you sound absolutely ridiculous… but at the same time, it is a nonsense in which I wish that I could share, because the worst part is you’re not even wrong. We are… fallen from the lofty heights of our forefathers. It has been easy to blame Lionheart when the truth is that we cannot be the warriors our forefathers were because we are not the men. We are… less.”

“We can be more,” Swift Foot urged. “We can become more, become what our forefathers were, if we wish to.”

“Under Pyrrha’s leadership?”

“I believe in her,” Swift Foot said, “and so do those who follow in her path. Not follow her to the crown, but to glory. To the glory that comes from virtue and service, not from seeking desperately after honours.”

“My service is owed to Father, not to Pyrrha Nikos,” Terri-Belle declared, “and my glory will come from serving him.” She paused. “Do you know anything about any other forms of magic than that which Pyrrha has in her possession?”

“No,” Swift Foot said.

Terri-Belle nodded. “I will tell father that you… are no longer of use to him in his purposes. You should probably tell Pyrrha the truth, before Father tells her to spite you. Tell her the truth and hope that she is as merciful as she is virtuous.”

Swift Foot frowned. “What are you saying?”

“My service is owed to our father,” Terri-Belle repeated with what sounded like a note of loss and melancholy, “but yours is to Pyrrha Nikos now. As you said, you have pledged your sword to her. And though you did not mean your pledge when you made it, it seems as though you mean it now.”

Swift Foot felt her mouth hang open just a little. “Are… are you-?”

“I release you from your service to the Steward and to me,” Terri-Belle informed her. “Now go, return to the House of Nikos. I do not think you will be welcome here much longer.”

Swift Foot… she hardly knew what to say. She stared at her sister in grateful disbelief. She had not expected Terri-Belle to take it so well. She had expected… she had feared a few things, but not this. “You… you are a woman of honour in your own right, sister; do not forget that.”

“Go,” Terri-Belle growled, as she turned her back on her youngest sister. “This place is no longer home to you in truth, as well as in fiction.”

“Of course,” Swift Foot whispered. It was not much of a wrench, hardly one at all, in point of fact. This place had rarely felt like a home to her; in fact, in the short time that she had been there, Pyrrha’s house had felt like far more of one than this cold palace ever had. There was more feeling of home to be found in Pyrrha’s courtesy, in Nora’s laughter, in Ditzy’s simple goodness than there was in her father’s brooding self-importance, in the mockery of Shining Light and Blonn Di, in the sense of ambition and paranoia that lay in the corridors like a bad smell. “Goodbye, Lady Terri-Belle.”

“Farewell,” Terri-Belle grunted. “Little sister.”

“Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Ming said as she approached Pyrrha through the press, “all alone?”

“For the moment, my lady,” Pyrrha acknowledged. Jaune had still not returned from speaking with Camilla, her mother had been drawn off by Councillor Ward, and Swift Foot was yet wherever she had disappeared to.

“Well, at least it gives us a chance to talk,” Lady Ming said, She was a woman of average height, with black hair arranged in a tight beehive with gilded needles protruding from out of it, dressed in a traditional qipao of fiery red, with a pattern of golden lotus flowers worked upon it. Her lips were painted in a deep shade of rouge. “I feel as though I owe you an apology, Lady Pyrrha. I would never have expected you to bend your back and submit your forces to serve the Council. I find myself forced to confess that I may have misjudged your intentions.”

“You were not alone in that misjudgement, my lady,” Pyrrha replied, inclining her head in gracious acceptance of the apology, “but I swear to you, in this place so redolent with the history of our kingdom, that I have never desired anything but to serve this kingdom to the best of my ability.”

Lady Ming looked into Pyrrha’s eyes. Her own eyes were a hazel colour which verged upon gold. “You must admit, Lady Pyrrha, that such ringing declarations sound a little odd transported from out of song and story and into the reality of these times.”

“You may find me strange if you wish, my lady, so long as you acknowledge that I am sincere.”

“I am open to the possibility,” Lady Ming accepted, “so long as you accept that I, too, wish only what is best for Mistral.”

“I am also open to the possibility,” Pyrrha conceded. “Although it is my turn to confess that I cannot see how a war with Atlas will help our kingdom. You cannot think that we would win?”

“Does the Champion of Mistral think so little of the valour of Mistral?” Lady Ming asked. “Do you think that you and yours are the only gallant hearts left in this kingdom?”

“Rather, I have seen too much of the Atlesian forces to underestimate them,” Pyrrha replied. “At the risk of sounding too much like Turnus, their unity of purpose lends them a strength I fear we could not match.”

“Their armies are formidable,” Lady Ming accepted. “Hence our offer to the bandit tribes: a trained, equipped, and seasoned nucleus for a new army.”

Pyrrha frowned. “An army which would still not stand a volley against General Ironwood’s troops, I think. Even if they were willing to fight for us, a fact of which I… have yet to be convinced.”

“Now you underestimate the strength of these cut-throats we are gathering to our banner,” Lady Ming said.

“Or you are overestimating their loyalty to Mistral, my lady,” Pyrrha countered. “Why should they fight a war for us?”

“I think they will do a great deal to maintain the lands that we have granted to them,” Lady Ming said. “Once the situation in the interior is stabilised, we will be free to alter the terms of our agreement with them to encompass military service in exchange for the continued possession of their territories.”

“That… hardly seems honourable, my lady,” Pyrrha said. “To menace those who have kept the terms agreed until they, under duress, agree new and less forgiving terms.”

“They are bandits,” Lady Ming said dismissively. “What honour do we owe them?”

Do we not owe it to ourselves to deal fairly with all those with whom we make such bargains? Pyrrha thought. “Can honour be honour if it is so… situational?”

Lady Ming chuckled. “I can see why your followers, and the people who cheer for you, find your virtue inspiring. There is something marvellous about so blunt a view of the world, but to succeed in politics, one must often be willing to be more flexible with these things.” She paused. “However, I did not approach you to lecture you upon such things, but to ask a favour from you.”

“A favour?” Pyrrha repeated. “I fear you will have to name it, my lady.”

“As you are no doubt aware, my own forces have been a little less successful than your own,” Lady Ming said.

“I have been very fortunate that so many skilled young huntsmen, trained to face the grimm, have been willing to fight with me,” Pyrrha said diplomatically.

“There is no need for modesty, Lady Pyrrha; you may imply your skill at arms has something to do with it.”

“I would rather be immodest on my betrothed’s behalf, my lady; his strategies are the key to our success.”

“My captain, Kurt, believes otherwise,” Lady Ming said. “I must ask you if you would be willing to lend me Arslan Altan to bolster up our strength. She and Kurt are well-acquainted, and Kurt asked for her specifically.”

“Arslan is a valiant woman,” Pyrrha agreed. “I am not her master, to command her to go, but I will speak to her and ask her to agree to this.” She paused. “Do I pass the test, my lady?”

Lady Ming chuckled. “That depends somewhat on the answer of Miss Altan. Now, do you wish to meet some of these brigands we are recruiting to manage our kingdom?”

Pyrrha did not, particularly, but she supposed that she ought to regardless. If nothing else, it would help her to know what she was up against if the worst came to the worst. “Thank you, my lady; that is most kind of you.”

Lady Ming led her through the party to where a trio of people, more roughly dressed than most by quite some distance, were standing, alone together, as the party moved around them. They wore matching cloaks of raven feathers, each black as the night, with thick collars that made their shoulders seem large and bulky, before the capes descended to pool upon the floor around their feet. They were led by a mature woman with pale skin and wild raven hair, dressed in lamellar armour as red as her eyes, accented in black that became visible as one gauntleted arm emerged to pull back one side of her cloak.

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Lady Ming said, “allow me to present Raven Branwen, the first bandit chief to accept our terms.”

Branwen? But then, that means- Pyrrha’s eyes were drawn to the figure behind Raven Branwen, to the familiar mane of golden hair stretching down below her waist. It couldn’t be… and yet, those purple eyes proclaimed that it was, without a doubt…

“Yang?”

Yang

Yang

“These people are weak,” Vernal spat as the three representatives of the Branwen tribe stood in the midst of the palace courtyard and the party swirled around them.

“They’re rich, not weak,” Yang replied. She paused, looking around the room at all the gaudily dressed Mistralian nobles in their bejewelled finery. “I mean, they might be weak as well, but not necessarily.”

Vernal snorted. “If they weren’t weak, then what are we doing here?” A sneer of cold contempt settled upon her features.

Yang rolled her eyes. “You know exactly why we’re here; we’re here to-“

“To be offered a slice of Mistral’s territory because these people are too soft and powerless to defend it themselves,” Vernal informed her.

“That’s one interpretation.”

“What other interpretation is there?” Vernal demanded. “Why else would they be courting us like this?”

“Quiet,” Raven snapped. “You two mewl at one another like kittens; it’s giving me a headache.”

Vernal scowled. “Raven, what are we doing here?”

Raven glanced at Vernal over her shoulder. A smirk played across her pale features. “What are we doing here? Didn’t you just answer that question yourself, Vernal? We’re here to be given the keys to the kingdom. Part of it, at least.”

“But why?” Vernal asked. “Do you really believe that they would be making this offer to us if they had the strength to defend their own territory? Are you as much a fool as your daughter?”

Yang’s eyes flashed red as her hands clenched into fists. “Hey, if I’m such a fool, then-“ She fell silent as Raven raised one hand.

Raven turned around slowly, her expression cold as she glared down at Vernal. Her voice was pregnant with menace as she asked, “Did you just call me a fool, Vernal?”

Vernal held Raven’s gaze for but a moment. She bowed her head. “No, Raven, that was not my intent. Forgive me.”

“Of course,” Raven said, her tone softening immediately. “And your assumptions about their motives are correct: under ordinary circumstances, the pride of these Mistralians would never permit them to make such an approach to common outlaws like us, let alone to make us lords and governors of their realm. Yang understands that too, don’t you, Yang?”

Yang hesitated for a moment. She nodded. “I mean, it’s not like they offered anything like that to you before, right?” she asked, a little anxiously; she very much hoped that they hadn’t offered her mother anything like this before only for Raven to refuse them and continue on her path of pillage and destruction.

Raven smirked. “Indeed not. Previously, they would have sent huntsmen after us or else searched the skies for our tribe with Atlesian airships. The destruction of Beacon Tower, the Atlesian retreat… the world has changed a great deal lately.”

“The world is ours for the taking,” Vernal insisted. “We don’t need to take a pardon from those who cannot touch us! We don’t need to restrict ourselves to a little piece of land. We could roam the length and breadth of Anima as we please, taking what we want-”

“Killing who you want?” Yang demanded.

Vernal looked her in the eye. “Is that a problem for you?”

“You’re damn right, it’s a problem for me!” Yang snapped. “We have a chance to make good here, to make new lives where we don’t have to-”

“Don’t have to what?” Vernal spat. “Don’t have to follow our ways? Don’t have to live as our tribe always has?” She snorted. “You are as weak as any of these people, and you want to make us just the same.”

“'Our tribe'?” Yang replied. “'Us'? Weren’t you born here in Mistral? Isn’t the only reason you’re a part of the Branwen tribe because you got scared and ran away from home?”

“Enough!” Raven snarled. “I will not have these Mistralians thinking us disunited. The next one of you to speak out of turn will have their tongue cut out; do I make myself clear?”

Yang glanced down at her right hand. She knew better than to take Raven’s threats of bodily mutilation lightly by this point.

For that reason, she said nothing more.

Vernal, too, fell silent.

Raven glowered at the both of them for a moment before her expression softened a little. “Vernal, you may attribute this to Yang’s influence, but the truth is that it was always my father’s ambition to be legitimised by the authorities like this.”

Yang’s eyebrows rose, and she could see her own surprise mirrored on Vernal’s face. Is that true, or are you just saying that to get Vernal off my back?

“I – and my brother – were sent to Beacon to learn how to kill huntsmen,” Raven explained, “because huntsmen were the only ones who could threaten us. My father thought that, if the tribe became strong enough, then the authorities of the Kingdom might make a deal with him and grant him a little kingdom of his own. Of course, he didn’t reckon with the fact that, no matter how strong our tribe became, it would never be as strong as a kingdom, still less a kingdom allied with other kingdoms. But now, the old alliances are gone, and the kingdom is much weakened. Now is the time when my father’s dream can become a reality. As he explained to me, if you have a chicken, then you have two choices: either kill the bird and dine well on its meat for one night or else take care of it and enjoy eggs every morning. Eggs will not fill you up so well as a chicken dinner, but they will sustain you for much longer.”

Vernal glanced at her. “May I speak?” she asked.

Raven nodded. “You may.”

“Surely the best alternative is to keep finding new chickens?”

Raven chuckled, a smile creasing her features. “At some point, Vernal, this crisis will pass. Something close to normal will return, and when it does, we will be hunted once again… unless we are protected from those whom they would send to hunt us.”

“A piece of paper is protection?” Vernal asked.

“This is the world of civilised men, Vernal,” Raven replied. “In this world, pieces of paper are mightier than any weapon.” She paused. “We have witnessed a return in these past few months to the old days, when power flowed as blood from a sword rather than ink from a pen. But that return will be fleeting, I think. If we do not take our chance to get within the law now, then we will be locked outside it once again.”

“So?” Vernal asked, keeping her voice down so as to avoid raising Raven’s ire. “What have we to fear from such soft people as these? We should be taking all that they have, not begging for their table scraps.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Raven replied. “Do you think that it is with jewels and gowns and manners that Mistral is kept safe? The softness of these people is indulged by the strength of those they keep in their employ. It is that strength of which we should be wary. It is that strength that we protect ourselves from now.”

Plus, you know, we don’t have to murder and steal from people any more.

Baby steps. I’ll get her there someday.

“Pyrrha Nikos, allow me to present Raven Branwen, the first bandit chief to accept our terms.”

Yang felt her stomach turn to ice. Pyrrha? Pyrrha’s here?

Yep. There she was. It definitely wasn’t some other Pyrrha Nikos; that would have been too convenient. No, it was Ruby’s teammate standing there, staring at her like… well, like someone you’d thought was dead suddenly turning up at a party.

Right. Mistral. Big hero champion girl.

Probably should have seen this coming.

Dammit.

“Yang?”

Jaune let Camilla leave first, waiting on the balcony while she departed. Her footfalls were so soft that he could barely hear them over the sound of the party going on within, so he started counting to one hundred, as though he were playing hide and seek with Violet back home when they were kids.

And as he counted, he thought about what Camilla had said to him. Some of it, of course, he had known already: about Watts and Chrysalis and their arrival at the house of the Rutulians. Some of it was new to him, although a lot of that was concealed within the things that Camilla hadn’t said. She didn’t know about the Relic of Knowledge, only that there was something vague underneath Haven; Jaune himself didn’t have any details about the relic, but at least he knew that it was one, and he was pretty sure that Lionheart knew that too. The fact that Lionheart had kept that to himself showed that he - or Salem or someone - didn’t trust Juturna or her brother or any of their associates with that kind of information. The same went for the Spring Maiden, about whom Camilla only seemed to have the most cursory of knowledge, not even her name or title. Perhaps… perhaps that distrust could be leveraged somehow, to drive a wedge between the Rutulians and Salem’s more faithful servants. Perhaps. He wasn’t entirely sure how to accomplish that yet. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible.

Unfortunately, that sense of distrust also made some things more uncertain. Camilla had no idea who or where the Spring Maiden was, but that didn’t mean that Salem’s servants hadn’t found her and neglected to inform Juturna of it.

It might be better to have had Aska watch Haven, in case they move on it. Or that might be incredibly premature.

This is never easy, is it?

Compared with all of that, the fact that the man who wanted to marry Jaune’s fiancée had someone else who was in love with him in turn was refreshingly absurd. He wasn’t sure whether to wish Camilla luck or, on the basis of what kind of a man Turnus seemed to be, tell her that she could do better.

Jaune decided that he had waited long enough and turned around to head back into the party. Only to walk right into Turnus, blocking the way out of the balcony.

Jaune took a step back, closer to the edge of the balcony. He stared at Turnus in silence, waiting for the other man to speak.

Turnus stood with his arms folded, glowering at him, and said nothing.

Jaune smiled disingenuously. “Hi there,” he said.

Turnus snorted out of his nostrils. “What did Camilla want with you?”

Jaune swallowed. “Who?”

Turnus took a step forward, his arms falling down by his sides. “Don’t play games with me, you impertinent little upstart; what did you talk about?”

Jaune stood his ground. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Because I’m asking you, boy,” Turnus growled.

“'Boy'?” Jaune repeated. “My name is Jaune! Not 'boy,' not 'upstart,' Jaune Arc. Soon to be Jaune Arc-Nikos, which is what’s really making you mad, isn’t it?”

Turnus let out a wordless growl, and as he took a step forward, he seemed to grow in size, his height increasing and his shoulders swelling, his whole body becoming more powerful without ever once seeming to alter in proportion. He became a giant looming over Jaune, glaring down at him with wrath in his eyes, larger than an ursa major. But although he felt his heart quail at the sight, Jaune stood his ground. He wasn’t some useless kid out of his depth any more, and he wasn’t going to be pushed around by a bully with a lot of ancestors.

“You may think that you’re a big guy around here,” Jaune said, “but I’ve seen bigger. I’ve fought bigger. And you don’t scare me, my lord.”

Turnus stared at him. “You are not worthy of such a prize as Pyrrha.”

“And you are?” Jaune replied. “You’re not even worthy of Camilla’s friendship.”

Turnus shrank down to the size that he had been before, his whole body diminishing until it was by no means small, but was at least within the range of human proportions. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“What do you think is going to happen between you and Pyrrha?” Jaune asked in return. “You could drop me to my death and say it was an accident, you could challenge me to a duel, you could scare me into asking for my ring back, but what then? Do you think that Pyrrha is just going to fall into your arms after that? She can barely stand you!”

Turnus looked as though he would very much like to throw Jaune to his death at this point, but he did not. Nor did he reply, and Jaune guessed that was because he could hardly dispute what Jaune was saying.

“Do you really think a man like you deserves her?” he grunted.

“I think that we don’t love who we deserve, only who we love,” Jaune said. Thanks for that, Sunset. “Tell me something, man to man.”

Turnus snorted. “Man to man?”

“Do you love her?” Jaune demanded. “Or do you only want to marry her because it’ll be easier for you to be king?”

Turnus froze. “Is that what Camilla told you?”

“Camilla thinks that you’d be a good ruler for this kingdom,” Jaune admitted.

“And I will,” Turnus declared. “The ruler that this kingdom needs.”

“The ruler it needs to turn this country into a little Atlas?” Jaune asked.

“Better to be a little Atlas than… this enormous mess,” Turnus said, waving one hand to encompass the city beneath them. “You are an outsider; surely, you can see how broken this kingdom is, just as I saw when I came home from Atlas?”

Jaune sidestepped away from him, turning a little so that he was facing Turnus still. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never been to Atlas. For all I know, it’s a hell of a lot worse than you’d think from taking Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle as the average of what the kingdom turns out. I don’t know, and it’s not for me to say. Like you said, I’m an outsider. I’m only here for Pyrrha. But what do you really want? If you had to choose between the crown and your family, what would you choose?”

Turnus’ eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me if I would choose domestic happiness over my duty to Mistral or if I would sacrifice those dear to me for my ambitions?”

“You feel a sense of duty to Mistral?” Jaune asked, with undisguised incredulity in his voice.

Turnus glared at him. “Just because it does not manifest in venturing out to fight in little villages does not mean I do not understand my obligations as a Rutulus.”

“So… deliberately tying the Council up in obstruction… that was helping Mistral to you?”

“Things cannot go on as they are now,” Turnus replied. “Better that they should be broken quickly so that something new can take its place, no?”

“And what of the cost?” Jaune murmured, aghast.

Turnus walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned upon the stonework. “How many Mistralian and Atlesian lives did your last king end in the Great War, in order that he might remake the world as he wished?”

“Mistral and Mantle started the war. Vale only fought-”

“Vale fought for the same reason all wars are fought,” Turnus said, cutting him off. “Because some things are worth more than the lives that will be spent in fighting for them.”

“You don’t have the right to make that choice,” Jaune said.

“There is no path to Mistral’s salvation that does not run through a river of blood. I am saving lives in future for the loss of… not even that many lives, considering Pyrrha’s record of success.” Turnus paused. “Did Camilla tell you about Team HART?”

“Your Atlas team?”

Turnus nodded. “I really did want to graduate from Atlas,” he said, “but after what they had done to her… I couldn’t let it stand, and to hell with General Ironwood and his disapproval. There are times… there are times when I envy the Atlesians with their iron hearts, that they are not burdened by the weakness of love as we Mistralians are. But… does that answer your question?”

"Iron hearts"? Were you just not paying attention at all when you were in Atlas, or are the ones we met serious outliers? Jaune wondered. "Iron hearts" was not a term that sprang to mind when he thought of Rainbow or Twilight, or even Ciel. It didn’t even apply to Penny, and she was literally made of iron. But then… how many other Atlesians did he really know?

It didn’t really matter at the moment. Perhaps Turnus was right about the majority of Atlesians, but that made no difference to either of them in this moment.

“I guess,” Jaune said. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re putting them in danger.”

Turnus looked at him. “Are you talking about my ambitions or about Salem now?”

“She can’t be trusted, and she can’t be controlled.”

“According to you, her enemy,” Turnus pointed out. “You have a vested interest in convincing me of this.”

“Of course,” Jaune said. “Sure I do. Just like I have a vested interest in telling you that you should stop chasing after the person who has made it clear that they don’t want anything to do with you, take a look around, and realise that someone who actually cares about you has been waiting for you this entire time. That is in my interest… but that doesn’t mean that I’m not telling the truth.” He hesitated, but felt that it was unlikely, after what he had just said, that Turnus would punish Camilla for what she had told him. “Camilla came to me because she’s worried about you. About all of you.”

Turnus stared at Jaune. Disbelief faded into acceptance in his eyes. “I see,” he muttered. “Camilla… leave me, Jaune Arc.”

“What are you-“

“I said leave me,” Turnus snapped. “The time of my thoughts is my own to spend.”

“For now,” Jaune replied. “Until Salem decides otherwise.”

Nevertheless, having hopefully given Turnus something to think about, he left him there on the balcony, brooding upon it all, while Jaune made his way back to the Fountain Courtyard.

“Yang?” Pyrrha asked, disbelieving.

Yang looked almost as shocked to see Pyrrha as Pyrrha felt to see Yang, if that was possible. Considering the situation, she felt that a little unfair. Then Yang’s expression changed. She laughed nervously as she scratched the back of her head with her left hand. “Pyrrha, hey!” she said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I live here,” Pyrrha said, in a rather flat tone.

“Yeah, but so do a lot of other people, and I haven’t met them yet,” Yang replied cheekily. She laughed again. “What a coincidence, huh?”

“'What a co-'?“ Pyrrha stopped, her eyes glancing from Yang to Raven Branwen and to the other girl with her head nearly completely shaved who stood beside her. She began to wish that she had brought her weapons, as impractical as that would have been. She forced her voice to remain – or to appear – calm. “Yang,” she said, “may we speak a little more privately?”

“Uh,” Yang hesitated, glancing towards… towards her mother.

Raven nodded. “Go on. Come back when you’re finished.”

Yang swallowed. “Sure thing,” she said quietly and stepped out from around her mother to approach Pyrrha.

Pyrrha turned to a slightly confused-looking Lady Ming. “My lady, I beg your pardon, but if you will excuse me? Yang is… an old friend of mine. I’m quite anxious to catch up with her.”

Lady Ming looked intrigued and horrified in equal measure. “You have old friends amongst bandits?”

“Apparently so,” Pyrrha replied. “That being the reason I am anxious to catch up.”

Lady Ming now looked amused, and there was a further hint of amusement in her voice as she said, “Be my guest, Lady Pyrrha.”

“Thank you, my lady; you are most kind,” Pyrrha said. “Yang, if you would like to follow me?”

Yang grinned. How could she grin at a time like this? “Sure thing, ‘Lady’ Pyrrha.”

It was all that Pyrrha could do not to roll her eyes, but in truth, as she led Yang away from her mother and other companion, she found that the exasperation she felt actually helped; it was a rock that she could cling to in the midst of the shock and horror that she felt roiling within her. Yang was alive. Yang was a bandit. Yang was alive?

How could she do that to Ruby?

Where did she go?

What’s going on?

She waited until they had both approached the fountain itself, where the dead and brackish water lay still and dirty, before Pyrrha rounded upon Yang.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Yang raised her hands. “I’m sure that you have questions.”

“Of course I have questions,” Pyrrha cried. “You’re supposed to be dead, and…” she trailed off. There were two fingers missing from Yang’s right hand, the little and the ring finger, not even stumps where they should be. They had not been lost in an accident or bitten off by a beowulf, but cleanly severed, as by a blade. Pyrrha felt a chill run down her spine. “Yang,” she said, “what happened to your fingers?”

Yang winced. “Raven… cut them off, the first two times I tried to escape.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “Your own mother-“

“My mother’s name is Summer Rose,” Yang broke in harshly. “Raven… has a claim on me, but she’s not my mother.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I don’t suppose she is. Yang. Gods, I…” She hadn’t known Yang very well, but she was Ruby’s sister. Ruby’s sister returned from death, and the thought of what she must have gone through, to have her fingers cut off by… that woman… Pyrrha reached out and pulled Yang into an embrace, her muscle-toned arms squeezing Yang tight as she pressed the other girl against her.

“It’s good to see you again,” she whispered. “I know that we weren’t exactly close, but-“

She stopped as she felt Yang’s arms close around her in turn. “I get it,” Yang said. “Trust me, I get it. It’s good to see you too, Pyrrha.”

“I’m not sure where Jaune is,” Pyrrha said, “but if you give me a moment, then I’ll have one of the servants ask my mother and Swift Foot to meet us at the door, and then hopefully, we can get away before they notice we’ve gone.”

“Before who notices we’ve gone?” Yang asked. “And gone where?”

Pyrrha released Yang from her embrace. “Why, before Raven and her companion notice you’ve gone, of course,” she said. “We’ll go back to my house.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “What, you’re going to hide me?”

“Hide you, shelter you, whatever you want to call it,” Pyrrha replied.

“No, Pyrrha, you can’t,” Yang began.

“Of course I can,” Pyrrha declared. “You’re Ruby’s sister, and although I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, I couldn’t look her in the eye if I didn’t help you now.”

“No, Pyrrha, you don’t understand-“

“I understand if you’re worried, Yang, but I have thirty huntsmen in my hall; you’ll be perfectly safe there-”

“You’re not listening-”

“That is even if Raven decided that having you back was more important than the goodwill of Mistral that she would jeopardise by starting-”

“Pyrrha, I’m not hiding in your house!” Yang shouted, finally silencing Pyrrha and a few other people as well, who looked at them both curiously.

Pyrrha stared at her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Yang took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “I’m going back to the Branwen tribe.”

Pyrrha blinked. “I beg your pardon? Yang, I could have sworn that you said-”

“Yes,” Yang said. “You did.”

“But… she cut off your fingers!”

“When I tried to run away,” Yang explained. “I don’t do that any more.”

“I told you, I can keep you safe.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Pyrrha demanded.

“Hey, Pyrrha,” Jaune said, as he approached. “There’s something that I have to- Yang?”

“Hey, Jaune,” Yang said, sounding a little dispirited as her head bowed. “So, you’re here too, huh?”

“I’m… here,” Jaune said as he stared at her. “And you’re… not a ghost?”

Yang sniggered. “No, Jaune, I’m not a ghost.”

“And you’re not dead.”

“Always super perceptive, weren’t you?”

“Sorry,” Jaune said. “I just… this is… how?”

Yang sighed. “Can I have a hug before we get to the explanations? I just had one from Pyrrha, but before that, it’s been a really long time.”

Jaune grinned. “Sure, you can; come here.” He closed the distance between them and allowed Yang to grab him in a bearhug, wincing a little as she lifted him up off the ground before setting him back down again.

They held each other for a minute or two, Yang pressing her head against his chest. “Pyrrha, is it okay if I stay like this with your boyfriend for a little bit? This feels really nice in a way that… not a lot of stuff has recently.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha replied. “Although… he’s actually my fiancé now.”

Yang opened one eye. “Really?” she said. “Congratulations, you guys!” She smiled, albeit a slightly sad smile. “I don’t suppose there’s any way that we could talk about you and your wedding plans instead of getting to all the questions about me, is there?”

“I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha said. “Although the former might be more enjoyable.”

“What’s going on, Yang?” Jaune demanded. “We all thought you were dead. Ruby thinks you're dead.”

Yang nodded sadly as she stepped away from Jaune. “I know,” she admitted.

“You know?” Pyrrha repeated. “Do you know how hard she took it?”

Once more, Yang nodded solemnly. “Raven… kept an eye on her for me, her and Dad.”

“So you did know,” Pyrrha said, and disapproval began to creep into her voice.

“Hey, don’t talk to me like that,” Yang said, and her own voice became a little sharp. “You guys left her too; don’t forget that. And you had a choice.”

Pyrrha recoiled as Yang’s words pricked at her conscience and stirred the guilt within her. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “We… I have no right to judge you. But I would still like to understand, if I may.”

“What happened?” Jaune asked. "At the battle?"

“Raven happened,” Yang replied. “She saved my life. I was surrounded by grimm, my aura broke… I would have died if it hadn’t been for her; there was no way that anyone could have gotten to me in time even if they’d known that I was in trouble.”

“I would thank her,” Pyrrha muttered, “except she didn’t just save your life, did she?”

“No,” Yang said. “She took me with her, back to her tribe. Her semblance… allows her to do that.” She looked at Pyrrha. “That’s the reason your house wouldn’t be safe from her; so long as I was there, Raven could just walk right into the middle of it.

“That’s why running away was a really bad idea,” she added. “No matter how well I planned it, she could always find me whenever she wanted to.”

“And she cut off your fingers,” Pyrrha said.

“She what?” Jaune cried. “Oh my God, Yang, you have to come with us-”

“Oh, not this again, no, Jaune,” Yang said. “I’m not going to hide out at your place.”

“Why not?”

“Because Raven needs me, and so does the Branwen tribe,” Yang replied. “You don’t understand what they’re like.”

“I think we have an idea,” Jaune said. “We’ve fought plenty of bandits these past few months.”

“Oh,” Yang grunted. “Then you’ll know that these aren’t good people-”

“They’re not the kind of people you should be around,” Jaune interrupted.

“But I’m making them better,” Yang insisted. “I’m making Raven better. This agreement… do you think everyone in the Branwen tribe wanted that? Vernal wants to carve a swathe of destruction right across Anima. But I pushed for Raven to take this deal, just like I pushed for her not to pillage and burn every village she could from Argus to Mistral. I’m helping her become a better person, and I’m helping the tribe too.”

“So you think it’s a good thing that bandits like the Branwen tribe should be just given control of whole areas of territory, put in charge of villages?” Jaune demanded.

“Why not? Isn’t that how families like Pyrrha’s got started?” Yang asked.

“Yes,” admitted Pyrrha. “You’re right, but… that was an awfully long time ago.”

“So?” Yang replied. “So long as we behave ourselves, so long as we protect these villages from the grimm, so long as we hold up our end of the agreement with Mistral, then what’s the issue?”

“Will they?” Pyrrha asked. “Hold up their end of the bargain? Protect their area from the grimm?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ll make sure it happens!” Yang insisted. “Raven is starting to listen to me, and one day, I’ll be leader of the tribe, and I can make sure that they stay on the right path. Who knows, maybe before too long, they’ll even have forgotten they were bandits at all. But I have to stay, or I have to go back. If I don’t, then… then it will just be Vernal whispering in Raven’s ear. And I can’t let that happen.”

“So you’ll go back with the woman who mutilated you,” Pyrrha said, ever so softly. “You… I don’t know whether to commend your extraordinary courage or condemn your extraordinary foolishness.”

“I do,” Jaune said. “It’s the second one. Yang, you don’t owe these people anything, certainly not your life spent dedicated to trying to redeem or improve them.”

“It’s not about them,” Yang said. “Or at least it’s not just about them. It’s about all the people they’ll hurt if I leave and they go back to their old ways. I wanted to become a huntress because… okay, I wanted adventure and maybe to find my… Raven, but I also went to Beacon because I wanted to help keep people safe. And that’s what I’m doing. It may not look like it; I’m not standing between a village and the grimm… but I am standing between that village and the tribe, even if they don’t see me.”

“Yang,” Raven said, as she stalked towards them. Her companion – Vernal, presumably – was her silent shadow. “It’s time to go.”

Pyrrha took a step forward. “Forgive me, Chieftainess, I’m afraid that Yang can’t leave just yet.”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “Really? And why not?”

“Because her uncle is a guest in my house, sunk in grief for her passing,” Pyrrha announced.

Yang gasped. “Uncle Qrow? He’s here?”

“He’s in a bad way,” Jaune elaborated.

“Ren and Nora are here too,” Pyrrha added. “They are doing much better, but they too deserve to know that you are alive, I think.”

Yang glanced down at the floor. “Uncle Qrow… how bad is he?”

“Bad,” Jaune said. “Very bad.”

Yang blinked, water filling her eyes. “Mom?”

“He is no longer one of us,” Vernal spat. “He betrayed the tribe; why should we care what state he’s in?”

“Mom!” Yang exclaimed.

Raven was silent for a moment, her expression inscrutable.

“Very well,” she agreed. “Let’s all go call on Uncle Qrow.”

The Future of Spring

The Future of Spring

Pyrrha had texted ahead on their way back to the Nikos house, so their party was met in the hallway by Sun, Neptune, and Arslan, all of them armed and waiting as the front doors opened to admit not only those who had set out for the party that evening, but also the Branwen party.

Raven smirked as she looked at them. “You greet us in your home with armed guards? Are you trying to intimidate me, or are you confessing that you find me intimidating?”

“If I wished to intimidate you, chieftainess-“

“Raven, please,” Raven said. “Don’t you find ‘chieftainess’ a bit of a mouthful, Lady Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha ignored the undercurrent of mockery in her tone. “Very well, Raven; if I wished to intimidate you, I have more than three men I could call upon to meet you here.”

The smirk did not move from Raven’s face. “I see,” she said, and Pyrrha felt she must have noted that Pyrrha had not commented on the question of whether or not she felt intimidated by Raven.

She was intimidated, in truth. She might be the Fall Maiden, but this was Raven Branwen, who had herself been one of Ozpin’s hand-picked students, who had been blessed with a touch of his magic… who commanded the power of the Spring Maiden. She was not an adversary Pyrrha could, or would, take lightly.

Though it is my hope that we need not be adversaries.

“So this is your house, huh?” Yang said, looking around the hallway. “Pretty sweet set-up you got here, Pyrrha.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said quietly.

“Hey, Yang,” Sun said, as he waved to her. “Nice to see that, uh, nice to see you’re not dead.”

Yang chuckled. “Nice to see you too, Sun.” She looked at Pyrrha, her face set with determination even if her hands were trembling slightly. “So, where do we start?”

“I’ll take you to see Ren and Nora, if you don’t mind,” Pyrrha replied. “I won’t intrude upon your reunion with your uncle, but…” she trailed off, unwilling to say in front of Raven that she had hope that Ren and Nora might help her persuade Yang to stay here with them. She looked at Raven. “Raven, may I trouble you for a word in private, while Yang speaks with her uncle? There are things that I think we should talk about.”

Vernal sneered. “What words do we need to exchange with you?”

“I don’t know, Vernal,” Raven declared, “but I would rather find out than dismiss the possibility.” To Pyrrha, she said, “Very well, Lady Pyrrha-“

“Pyrrha, please,” Pyrrha interrupted her. “'Lady Pyrrha' is a bit of a mouthful.”

Raven snorted. “Very well, Pyrrha, we can talk. As one former student of Ozpin to another.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “Sun, Neptune, will you please escort Raven into the drawing room and-“

“And wait there to make sure that I don’t go anywhere else or take anything that I shouldn’t,” Raven finished for her. “You don’t trust me, Pyrrha?”

“Your reputation as a bandit precedes you, I’m afraid,” Pyrrha said, unapologetically. “You can hardly complain about the consequences of that reputation.”

Raven seemed more amused than offended. “I could puff out my chest and complain about the fact that I have made a bargain with the Council and so you should accept me as a friend and ally… but you’re quite right, of course. You would be a fool not to remember what I am. Your mistake, if you will allow me to give you a piece of advice, is to think that these two male models over there would be sufficient to prevent me from getting up to any mischief.”

“Did she just call us male models?” Sun asked.

“I don’t think it was a compliment, dude,” Neptune replied.

Raven took a step forward. “Lead on, boys, I’m all yours. Vernal, wait here.”

Vernal let out a deep breath that was almost, but not quite, a sigh. “Very well, Raven.”

“I will go with you,” Lady Nikos declared. “I have never met a lord of brigands before. It might prove… rather instructive.”

Pyrrha watched Sun and Neptune lead Raven – warily – towards the drawing room on the first floor. She glanced at Vernal, who seemed both ill-at-ease and yet at the same time unable to stop from eyeing up the various curiosities and antiques displayed in the hall, like the eighth century bronze elephants on the coffee table on the right hand side by the stairs.

“Arslan,” she said, in a low voice, “would you please stay here and keep our guest company?”

“Good idea,” Yang muttered under her breath.

“I’ll stick around, too,” Swift Foot said. She had looked a little pale ever since they had left the palace, but her voice was firm, and she looked certain enough about her desire to do this.

“Very well,” Pyrrha agreed. “And thank you. Jaune, come with me.”

“Of course,” Jaune acknowledged.

“Yang,” Pyrrha said. A sigh escaped her. “Please follow me.”

Yang gestured for Pyrrha to take the lead. “Lead the way.”

Pyrrha had already asked Ren and Nora to go to one of the ground floor sitting rooms to wait for them – she hadn’t said why; she’d just asked them to go – and it was to that sitting room that she and Jaune brought Yang, pushing open the lacquered wooden door to admit her into the good-sized chamber, where the chairs were well-stuffed and the tables were antique.

Nora and Ren were both standing, talking softly to one another. They both turned as the door opened.

“Pyrrha,” Nora cried, “what’s the big idea by asking us to wait here without…?” her voice died in her throat as she saw who had come in with Pyrrha and Jaune.

“Yang?” Ren asked, disbelieving.

Yang walked in, stepping past Pyrrha and Jaune to approach her old teammates. “Hey, guys,” she said, her voice soft, almost diffident, quite definitely nervous. “I… hi.”

For a moment, the two of them stared at Yang in stunned silence. That silence was broken by Nora yelling “YANG!” before she launched herself across the room as though she’s been struck with her own hammer.

Yang raised her hands defensively. “Woah, Nora wa-”

She was hit by Nora like a missile, and they both fell to the ground, crushing a coffee table – at least that was its current use – into splinters beneath them.

“Sorry!” Nora said.

“It’s quite alright,” Pyrrha said mildly. “It was only thirteenth century.”

Ren took a step forward. “Yang… it’s great to see you, but… how is this possible?”

Yang seemed content to lie on the floor, her arms around Nora just as Nora’s arms were around Yang’s neck. “Well, be fair, Ren, it’s not as if you found my body out at Vale and buried it.”

“No,” Ren allowed. “But even so-”

“Raven kidnapped her,” Jaune said bluntly.

Nora looked up. “Your mother kidnapped you?”

“'Kidnapping,'” Yang said, as she got to her feet, with Nora still hanging onto her, “is a very harsh word.”

“Well, how would you describe someone who takes someone somewhere without their consent?” Jaune demanded.

Yang pried Nora from around her neck. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“If there is a more sympathetic interpretation, then perhaps you should give it to us now,” Ren suggested.

“She was trying to protect me,” Yang insisted. “She saved my life in the battle - I would have died without her - and beyond that… she wanted to keep me safe from… from…” She glanced at Pyrrha.

Ren folded his arms. “If you’re trying to talk around Salem or the Relics or anything else that Professor Ozpin entrusted to Pyrrha and her team, we already know.”

Yang blinked. “You told them?”

Pyrrha nodded. “And Sun, and Neptune. And my friend Arslan too. And my mother.”

Yang grinned. “Kind of missed the point of ‘secret’ there, don’t you think, Pyrrha? It was hard enough getting Ruby to tell me.”

“And you didn’t tell us even though you knew for months,” Nora pointed out, with a touch of sourness in her voice.

“Because it was a secret,” Yang replied, “and Ruby asked me to keep it a secret.”

“I know that Professor Ozpin likely would not approve of all my actions,” Pyrrha admitted. “But… the Professor is dead, and I needed help. I needed to be sure that, if anything were to happen to me, someone would be able to carry on the fight.”

Yang nodded. “I guess that’s fair enough. But how did Uncle Qrow take it?”

“He… wasn’t really in much of a position to let us know, one way or the other,” Jaune confessed.

Yang winced. “Right, the whole ‘thinks I’m dead’ thing. Anyway, the point is that Raven didn’t want me involved in any of that, and she thought that taking me away was the best thing that she could do.”

“So how did you get away?” Nora asked, seizing Yang by the hands. “And what happened to your fingers?”

“Raven cut them off,” Jaune preempted.

“Jaune!” Yang snapped. “Can you just stop for a minute?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re making Raven look bad.”

“I think that Raven made herself look bad when she cut off your fingers,” Jaune replied.

“Did Raven cut off your fingers?” Ren asked.

Yang sighed. “Yes, but-”

Nora growled. “So how did you get away from her? And how did you find Pyrrha?”

“I didn’t!” Yang said loudly. “Raven’s here; she’s upstairs waiting to speak to Pyrrha.”

Nora and Ren both looked at Pyrrha. “Are you going to talk to her about which limbs she’d like to lose for what she did to Yang?” Nora suggested.

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “Unfortunately, I have to speak to her about the Spring Maiden and about the disappearance of Manjushage.”

“Disappearance?” Yang repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“The town of Manjushage disappeared not too long ago,” Jaune explained. “The buildings are still there, but all of the people fit to work have been taken. The town was gassed, the people knocked out, and they and the attackers both disappeared before our response could get there.”

Yang’s eyes widened. “And you think the Branwen tribe did that? No way, that wasn’t us. We don’t have knockout gas of any kind, and there’s no way that we could abduct a whole town and just disappear before any help could reach the place.”

Nora took a step back, and a touch of concern entered her voice. “Yang, why are you saying ‘we’?”

Yang looked from Nora to Ren and back again. “Because I didn’t escape, because for better or worse, these are my people, and the tribe is my home.”

“The tribe that kidnapped and mutilated you?” Ren demanded.

“I deserved that-” Yang began.

“No, you didn’t!” Nora replied loudly. “You might think that you did now, but once we get you away from them-”

“I’m not staying here. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Nora demanded. “You don’t belong with these people-”

“They’re my family-” Yang began.

“What about Ruby? Isn’t she your family?” Jaune snapped.

Yang rounded on him, her eyes flashing red. “If you want to talk about Ruby, then how about we talk about the fact that you left her too, and without as good of an excuse as me!”

“That’s not fair, Yang,” Pyrrha said, taking a step forward as Jaune cringed guiltily. “I asked Ruby to come here with us; it was her choice to decline.” She paused. “That said… I am sorry. I… should have insisted rather than leave her alone.”

Yang closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were their old lilac colour. “I’d be more mad at you if she were really alone,” she admitted, “but Sunset’s with her, so I guess it’s not so bad.”

Pyrrha gasped. “You’ve seen Ruby and Sunset?”

“Once,” Yang replied. “Like I said, Raven has been keeping an eye on Ruby and Dad for me. They were – all three of them – in the mountains on the edge of Vale.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Sunset’s supposed to be in prison, and Ruby was going home to Patch… what are they doing on the edge of Vale?”

“Fighting monsters.”

“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down,” Nora pointed out.

“I know, but it’s the best I can do,” Yang said with a shrug that made her feathered cloak flutter. “Raven’s semblance is portal teleportation - that’s how she was able to get me away from the battlefield and how she was able to find Ruby - but she can’t exactly get close enough to eavesdrop on their conversations. But they’re alive, or at least they were when I left them. And they’ve got each other, so… so I’m sure they’ll do fine.”

“I hope so,” Pyrrha murmured. “I pray it is so.” She looked at Jaune. “They’re together,” she said.

Jaune smiled for a moment, and then frowned. “That’s better news than we could have hoped for, and yet… on the border… that’s more worrying than I would have guessed.”

“That’s the terrible thing about knowing a little,” Yang said. “It sometimes hurts you more than knowing nothing at all.”

“We’re finding that out for ourselves,” Ren muttered darkly.

Yang turned towards him. “I know how this must seem, but… I’m making them better. With the help of this deal with the Council… the Branwen tribe aren’t going to be bandits any more. They’re going legitimate, and I can make sure they stay that way.”

Ren frowned. “Even after all that they have done to you?”

“They haven’t done that much. I mean it’s only a couple of fingers, right?” Yang asked, trying to smile. The smile died swiftly. “I… faunus like Blake have had worse done to them by humans, but they’re still willing to give their lives to defend humanity. Compared to that, what Raven’s done to me is nothing.”

Nora clasped her hands together. “I don’t like this,” she said. “I don’t like letting you go with them.”

“Nora,” Ren said, softly but firmly, “she’s made her choice, and we have to respect that, even if we disagree.” He bowed his head to her. “Your courage continues to be incredible, even if you still lack wisdom.”

Yang laughed. “It’s good to see you again,” she said. “Both of you. How does it feel, knowing the truth?”

Ren and Nora glanced at one another. “It’s… rather terrifying,” Ren confessed. “But we do what we can.”

Yang nodded. “Good luck with that,” she said. “I… I really would… I wish that I could fight that battle alongside you, but Raven needs me. And more importantly, so do the people she might prey on if I wasn’t here.”

“Yang,” Pyrrha said, “before I go and speak to Raven, is there anything that you can tell me about the Spring Maiden?”

Yang was silent for a moment. “She’s in your hall.”

Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “Vernal?” she asked. “Vernal is the Spring Maiden?”

“She hardly looks old enough,” Jaune said.

“She was really young when she got her powers, I guess,” Yang explained. “But I’ve seen her do… magic, I suppose you’d have to call it. And she won’t let me forget it either.”

“You don’t like her very much, do you?” Jaune guessed.

“There’s not much to like,” Yang informed him. “Can… can I see Uncle Qrow now?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha replied. “Ren, Nora, would you show Yang the way to Mister Branwen’s room? Jaune, I need you with me when we talk to Raven.”

“Sure,” Jaune said. They both stayed in the sitting room as Yang left, accompanied by Ren and Nora to show her the way.

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Am I the only one who feels as though we’re letting Ruby down horribly by just letting her leave with these people?”

“Not at all,” Jaune informed her. “We ought to keep her here. And… and the Spring Maiden, too.”

Pyrrha looked up. “You mean-”

“She’s right here, Pyrrha. I don’t see how we can avoid having this conversation any longer.”

“You mean you don’t see how we can avoid murdering a guest beneath my roof,” Pyrrha said. “So that we’re clear.”

“I’m not pretending that it will be right or honourable,” Jaune said. “But it might be our best shot at stopping Salem in her tracks. With one of us as the Spring Maiden, there’s no way that Salem’s forces can open the vault-”

“Unless they kill Nora or Arslan or Swift Foot or whoever ends up inheriting the powers of Spring the way that you are suggesting that we kill Vernal,” Pyrrha replied. “Let’s not pretend that this one death is a permanent solution to our problems.”

“No, but it puts us in a much better position than we’re in right now,” Jaune insisted. “We can protect Spring much better than the Branwen tribe can. Our uncertainty about the whereabouts of the Spring Maiden… we have a chance to secure the key that Salem is searching for, Pyrrha! We have a chance to put it in our pocket and protect it from her!”

“Without preparing anyone who might be fit to receive it,” Pyrrha said. “At least Professor Ozpin gave me a choice and time to think it over.”

“Professor Ozpin gave you a choice over whether you wanted to climb into an Atlesian death-trap and sacrifice your personality to save Amber,” Jaune retorted. “If it had just been about inheriting the magic in a natural-”

“Please don’t use the word 'natural' to disguise what you’re proposing,” Pyrrha said. “Please, Jaune.”

Jaune nodded. He ran one hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. I know that you hate this, and I know that this isn’t you at all, but… I just don’t think that we can allow this chance to slip through our fingers because of honour.”

“Why do we deserve to win against Salem and her forces if not because we behave righteously?” Pyrrha asked. “If we murder for the powers of the Maiden, then how are we different from anyone else who murdered to obtain the magic? Professor Ozpin said that the means of obtaining the powers determined what would become of those who did obtain them, whether they would do well or ill. And, surely that goes doubly for not just a murder, but for the murder of a guest beneath my roof.” She hesitated. “And besides… a battle between two maidens could tear this house apart, and I will not put my mother and servants at such risk.”

Jaune clenched his jaw. “I’d forgotten about the servants.”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated. “I know that you’re only suggesting what you think is best, Jaune, but sometimes, we have to do what is right instead of what is best for us.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “You know… the last time I spoke to Sunset, she said that I needed to take care of you, because your good heart would lead you… into trouble,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I’ve done such a good job.”

“I’m still here,” Pyrrha reminded him. “Although… I dare say that Sunset could have done with… being a little less pragmatic, at times.”

Jaune snorted. “Maybe. What I’m trying to say is… I’m just trying to look out for you. For all of us.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “And I appreciate that. And I’m sure that there are times when you will be right… I just don’t think that this is one of them.”

“No,” Jaune said. “And after what you said… what you reminded me of… neither do I. But what are you going to do?”

“I… I’m going to appeal to Raven’s better nature,” Pyrrha said. “And possibly to her sense of self-preservation.”

“You might get further with the second one,” Jaune suggested.

“Quite possibly,” Pyrrha conceded. “Shall we go and see?”

Together, they went up to the drawing room, where Raven was ensconced under the watchful eyes of Sun and Neptune, who stood at the back of the room looking… well, looking like bodyguards. Raven sat in the armchair facing the sofa, with one ankle resting upon her knee, while Lady Nikos sat in the chair beside the settee. A blue willow teapot sat upon the table, and Raven held a small cup delicately in one hand and sipped from it.

She did not rise as Pyrrha and Jaune entered and took their seats upon the sofa facing her.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said. “For agreeing to speak to us.”

“I must admit, I’m a little curious to meet Ozpin’s latest protégés,” Raven replied. “You definitely seem much more straitlaced than my old team. Although I suppose your team leader made up for that when she was around.”

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha said coldly. She didn’t particularly want to talk about Sunset with Raven. “Yang… is being very brave.”

Raven snorted. “Let me guess: you offered her sanctuary, here with you, and she turned you down.”

“She did,” Pyrrha replied. “I make no apologies for the offer.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Raven said. She sipped at her tea. “But Yang is a Branwen; my blood flows in her veins. My strength is in her spirit.”

“The strength of a coward?” Jaune muttered.

Raven stared at him for a moment, in silence. “The strength of a survivor,” she said. “I knew that Ozpin would fail, and he did. I knew that sticking with him would only lead to ruin and misery… and I was right. Summer died, Qrow and Tai were left pathetic husks, I’m the only one who made it out in one piece. I will not apologise for that or for rescuing my daughter from following where… where her mother’s footsteps led.” She drained the rest of her teacup and slammed it down hard upon the table. “I… I lost my best friend because of that man! I won’t apologise for rescuing Yang from that.”

“And Ruby thinks she lost her sister because of what you did,” Jaune reminded her.

A look of guilt flashed across Raven’s face. “I lost a brother, once,” she muttered. “It only made me stronger in the end.”

“'Stronger'?” Pyrrha snapped. “You call leaving her a tearful, nervous wreck, half-convinced that her sister’s death was her fault, broken in spirit, doomed to wait upon a father as broken as herself, you call that 'stronger'?”

“Pyrrha!” Jaune cried.

Pyrrha looked down and saw that ice had started to spread across the floor. Pyrrha closed her eyes and wrenched her powers back inside herself.

Too late, of course. Raven had already seen more than enough. “So,” she said softly, leaning forward a little. “Ozpin made you his Fall Maiden.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Pyrrha replied coolly.

“Don’t worry,” Raven said, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice, “your secret is safe with me. Did you ask me here just to lecture me about Yang?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “I asked you here to ask you if you know anything about the town of Manjushage.”

“Where?”

“It’s in the interior,” Pyrrha elaborated. “Its entire population was kidnapped, spirited away before my forces could arrive to defend them-”

“The Branwen tribe doesn’t traffic in people,” Raven declared flatly. “Nor do we take slaves. They're not worth the trouble.”

“Do you know of any tribe that does those things?” Pyrrha asked.

“Some,” Raven admitted. “None that could pull it off so quickly as you seem to be suggesting.” Her blood-red eyes narrowed. “Why were you so sure it was me?”

“The devastation wrought upon the town,” Pyrrha said. “It suggested the possibility of… magic.”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “Everyone in this room… is aware?”

Pyrrha sat back. “Not what Professor Ozpin would approve of, but-”

“But wise, nonetheless,” Raven said approvingly. “Oz and all his secrets. And where have they gotten him? But the answer to your question is no: we aren’t responsible. Thanks to Yang, we haven’t hit a town like that in a few months now.

“So it’s true that she’s become your conscience,” Jaune said.

Raven snorted. “Perhaps. I’m becoming sentimental in my old age, it seems. I didn’t take your town. And, as I am now a representative of the Kingdom of Mistral, I would report it if I knew who had. Regardless of what you may think, I do want to make this arrangement work. I wouldn’t put it in jeopardy to protect a rival clan.”

“But you do have the Spring Maiden,” Pyrrha pointed out. “Don’t you?”

Raven smirked. “If Yang hasn’t already told you who it is, then I’ll be very surprised.”

“You know that Salem is hunting her,” Jaune said.

“Salem has been hunting her ever since she was a girl,” Raven replied. “The Maidens will be hunted their whole lives.”

“But especially now,” Jaune pointed out. “Salem… Salem has the Relic of Choice.”

For the first time in this conversation, Raven looked afraid. She tried to hide it, but she could not completely conceal the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she froze for a moment. “I… see,” she said, her voice quieter than it had been a moment ago.

“And you see as well that the enemy has failed to acquire the powers of the Fall Maiden,” Lady Nikos reminded her. “Which means-”

“That Spring is next,” Raven finished for her. “You make me wonder if returning to a nomadic life would be better.” She leaned back in her seat. “From the fact that I haven’t been visited by grimm or by any of Salem’s agents, I guess that she doesn’t know that I have Spring.”

“Apparently not,” Pyrrha said.

“But that doesn’t mean that she won’t find out,” Jaune informed her. “Salem has agents here in the city, and maybe outside of it as well; if she finds you-”

“Why don’t you skip the pretence of concern for the wellbeing of me and mine?” Raven suggested.

“So long as Yang is with you, then it’s not pretence,” Pyrrha replied.

“But you want me to give up the Spring Maiden to you?” Raven said. She shook her head. “The answer is no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t traffic in people,” Raven repeated. “Vernal ran away from Mistral once already; I’m not going to hand her back to you like one of Ozpin’s chess pieces, regardless of what she wants. She chose my tribe, and with my tribe, she will stay.”

“Regardless of the danger it puts the rest of you in?” Jaune asked.

Raven was silent for a moment. “A danger to one is a danger shared by all,” she said. “That is what it means to be part of a tribe. Salem doesn’t know that I have the Spring Maiden, she has no reason to suspect that I have the Spring Maiden… and you’re not going to tell her, are you?”

“Of course not,” Pyrrha replied.

“Then I have nothing to worry about,” Raven said, as she got to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

At that moment, the door burst open, and Qrow Branwen staggered in, wielding his sword in one unsteady hand.

He stared at his sister with undisguised hatred in his eyes. “You-”

“Nice to see you too, brother,” Raven said, sounding more amused than concerned. “I take it you’ve seen Yang.”

Qrow was in the tombs beneath the house of Pyrrha Nikos.

He had wandered down there once, if ‘wandered’ wasn't too generous a word for the staggering that he'd been doing. He'd thought the old bat was going to kill him – or try to – when she found him down there in the crypt amongst the sarcophagi, and even Pyrrha had been pretty pissed about it once she found out, for all that she'd tried to hide the fact. He was her guest, but that was her place, a family place; he wasn't welcome there.

Yet there he was again, in the dark underground, surrounded by the bones of dead men and women, resting in their stone beds, their likenesses engraved in rock upon the coffin lids.

They looked as though they were sleeping. They were sleeping on their beds of stone, and only he was awake. Awake, and alone in the darkness and the cold.

Something growled in the blackness. Did they have grimm down there? Was there a beowolf, or an ursa? Qrow reached for his Harbinger, but he couldn't grasp it. It wasn't there. He didn't have his weapon; he must have… where was it? He and his blade were never apart.

Not that it mattered. If there was a grimm down there, he'd take it on with his bare hands.

Or else he wouldn't, and he'd be free of all of this.

The growling grew louder, as though it were coming from many throats instead of one. Many throats in many directions; he was surrounded in the dark.

Yeah, oblivion seemed really inviting right about now.

A light shone in the dark. A bright light of purest white, silencing the growling and the snarling all around him. A light that approached Qrow and, as it approached, revealed itself to be far worse than any grimm that might be lurking down there.

Summer Rose was as she lingered in his memories: a pale figure in a pale cloak, a shining light in the torrid darkness. Her eyes glowed in this gloomy place, glowed with the power to burn away all darkness. As she stared at him, glared at him, Qrow almost felt as though he were being burned away himself.

"Summer," he murmured, "have you brought me here?"

"Me?" Summer asked. "This is your place, Qrow. This is your darkness."

Qrow shook his head, but as he did, one of the nearby sarcophagi caught his eye. He cried out in pain, for instead of one of Pyrrha's ancestors, the person carved into the stone was Summer herself. Frantically, Qrow looked around. All the stone reliefs were transformed: Yang, Oz, Amber, Merida, all the people he'd let down. All the people he'd let die. All the people he'd failed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, not to Summer but to all of them. "I'm sorry."

"I left my children in your care," Summer accused.

Qrow kept on shaking his head. "They had their father."

"I left my love in your care too," Summer reproached him.

"Oz," Qrow murmured. "What I was doing was important."

"As important as my family?" Summer demanded. "I trusted you to be there for them."

"I was, when they needed me."

"Not when they needed you the most," Summer declared. "Where are my sweet girls, Qrow?"

"One… one is over there," Qrow whimpered, weakly pointing at her tomb.

Summer looked at him sadly. "Qrow," she said. "Qrow. Qrow."

"Uncle Qrow? Uncle Qrow! How could you let him get like this?"

"He didn't exactly give us much of a choice."

Qrow opened his eyes. Summer's face… no, not Summer, that face swam before his eyes for a moment, but it wasn't Summer looking down at him, shaking him by the shoulders where he lay on the floor. It was…

"Yang?" Qrow murmured.

Yang smiled, despite the tears forming in her eyes. "Hey, Uncle Qrow."

"No," Qrow groaned. "No, no, enough already! Let it stop, please!" He reached for the bottle that should have been there next to him, fumbling for it.

"No, Uncle Qrow, you need to stop," Yang insisted. "This isn't a bad dream you're having. I'm right here. I'm right here, and I…" she trailed off, as her tears fell onto his face. "And I'm sorry. I didn't think that… I'm sorry."

Qrow blinked blearily. He scrambled up onto his knees. Yang was kneeling in front of him, while two kids - what were their names? - waited at the door. "I… I'm not dreaming?"

"No," Yang said, shaking her head. "It's me. It's so good to see you again. I missed you."

Qrow grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her into a wrenching hug, holding her so tight that he might have crushed her, holding her like he never meant to let her go ever again. "It's good to see you too, firecracker," he cried. "So… so good to see you." He closed his eyes. She wasn't gone. She wasn't gone; she was right there. Summer… Summer, she's alive. "But… how?"

Yang's voice, when it came, was soft. "Raven," she said. "She took me away from the battlefield, to-"

"The tribe," Qrow growled. "You've been with the Branwen tribe this whole time?" He pulled away from Yang, looking her over, looking for signs that Raven had-… he spotted Yang's missing fingers.

Harbinger gleamed invitingly in the corner of the room.

"Uncle Qrow," Yang said, as Qrow rose unsteadily to his feet. "Now hold on a second."

Yang followed her uncle through the doorway. “Uncle Qrow, just calm d-”

“Stay where you are, Yang,” Qrow growled. “I’m going to take care of this.”

Pyrrha got to her feet. “Mister Branwen,” she said, “I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, but-”

“It’s alright, Pyrrha,” Raven said. “He can try and kill me if he wants. I won’t hold it against you.”

Qrow bared his teeth at her like a dog. “Yang isn’t going anywhere with you.”

Raven was unarmed, but she seemed unafraid. “Yang is coming back with me, her family.”

“You are not her family!” Qrow bellowed as he charged at her, swinging his sword. Raven dodged his clumsy swing, ducking back to let the blade swing past her before grabbing Qrow by the wrist and cutting his legs out from underneath him with a savage, sweeping kick. He hit the floor with a thud as Raven pinned him to the ground, his arm twisted behind him.

“Even with your semblance, even if you weren’t several bottles past your limit, you still wouldn’t be able to take me, brother,” Raven mocked.

Qrow growled as he struggled futilely against her grip. “I… I…”

“Look at you,” Raven sneered. “You couldn’t protect Ozpin, you couldn’t protect Beacon, how do you expect to protect Yang?”

“Not… not my…” Qrow muttered, but Pyrrha felt uncomfortably as if she were watching the fight ebb out of him once again. He glanced at Yang, and Pyrrha could see that there were tears forming in his eyes. “Yang,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Qrow,” Yang said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Please… don’t go.”

“I have to,” Yang insisted. “This… the tribe is my home now, and Raven… Raven is my family.”

How much does it hurt you to say that? Pyrrha wondered, her heart going out to Yang. How much does that lie stick in your throat?

“'Family'?” Qrow repeated incredulously. “What… what about Ruby, what about your dad, aren’t they family?”

Yang closed her eyes. It looked to Pyrrha as though she were trying to fight back yet more tears. “Goodbye,” she said, and turned away, choosing. Choosing her mother, or choosing Raven Branwen, at least. Choosing Raven and leaving her uncle – leaving all of them – behind.

Pyrrha lay with her head in Jaune’s lap.

They were still in the drawing room, still on the settee where they had sat when speaking to Raven, when trying to warn her about the danger that Salem posed to her, trying to get her to send the Spring Maiden to them where they could keep an eye on her.

It was the same settee, but now, Pyrrha lay on her side with her head in Jaune’s lap. Her hair was unbound, and Jaune ran his fingers through her rich red locks as she lay curled up like a cat, her legs tucked up and her shoes touching the arm of the sofa.

“I don’t know what is more astonishing,” Pyrrha murmured. “Where Ruby and Sunset are, that Yang is alive, or that she would rather stay with Raven Branwen than with us.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. His fingers moved briefly from her hair to her cheek. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s any reflection on our hospitality. I don't think she feels she has a choice.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “Probably not. Do you think Ruby would forgive us? For letting her go?”

“I think Ruby would be too overjoyed to find out that Yang was alive to be worried too much about anything else,” Jaune replied, “and I think Ruby would understand that there’s no physical way we could have kept Yang out of Raven’s hands, as much as she's hurting her. With her semblance, she could always get to Yang no matter where she was. What do you think they’re doing on the edge of Vale?”

“I’ve no idea,” Pyrrha said. “I just hope they can keep one another safe.”

“They will,” Jaune assured her. “They have to. It’s Ruby and Sunset, right?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha whispered. “It’s Ruby and Sunset.” I just hope that’s enough. She opened her eyes, which had been closed up until now. “I suppose we’ll have to do something about the Spring Maiden… but what, now that the Branwen Tribe have allied with the Kingdom of Mistral?”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Jaune said. “Maybe, if they get in trouble with Salem, we’ll have a good excuse to go to their aid and keep the Spring Maiden out of Salem’s hands. Plus, it will make it difficult for them to use the Rutulians to move against the Branwen tribe either, if that was Salem’s intent.” He paused. “Which reminds me, there’s something else that I need to talk to you about.”

Pyrrha twisted so that she was looking up at him. “There’s more? Hasn’t this night been busy enough?”

“You don’t know the whole of it yet,” Jaune muttered. “You know how Camilla wanted to talk to me?”

“Of course she did,” Pyrrha said, in a voice that was half-groan. “Everything with Yang… it just drove it out of my mind. What did she want?”

“To inform on Salem’s allies to us,” Jaune replied. “She’s not happy about what’s going on in that house.”

Pyrrha blinked and sat up. “Really?”

“You sound a little surprised.”

“I didn’t think she’d ever betray Turnus,” Pyrrha explained.

“She doesn’t see it that way,” Jaune said. “She sees it as protecting them from what they’ve gotten themselves into.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said softly. “What did she tell you?”

“Some of what we already knew, about Chrysalis and Watts,” Jaune said. “Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell me what they were here for, except the Relic; that’s another thing, Lionheart hasn’t told them about the Relic, just that there’s a weapon underneath Haven Academy.”

“So Nora was right: Juturna is not trusted,” Pyrrha said.

“Looks like,” Jaune agreed. “Overall, she didn’t tell me a great deal, but she told me that we might have a friend inside that house if we ever need one. Provided that we don’t hurt Turnus or Juturna.”

“I may not care for Turnus particularly, but I bear him no malice,” Pyrrha said. “I would have no quarrel with him if it weren’t for the company he kept.”

“What about him being King of Mistral?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha stared at him for a moment. She swung herself completely off his lap so that she was sitting next to him once more. “'King of Mistral'?”

“What he wants,” Jaune explained. “To be king and make Mistral into a second Atlas.”

Pyrrha let out a soft groan. “Of course he does.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Not particularly.”

“I suppose I can see why,” Jaune acknowledged. “But… don’t we have enough battles to fight without picking extra? We came here to defend Mistral and oppose Salem’s forces, not to defend the Council.”

“Except for the part where we are sworn to serve the Steward.”

“So is Turnus, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him,” Jaune pointed out. “And besides, what if he isn’t planning a takeover with force? What if… what if the people chose him for their king?”

“Then…” Pyrrha hesitated. “Then who am I to stand in his way?” she accepted, for what was the difference between the people choosing a king and electing a councillor, except perhaps that the former could not be got rid of so easily if the people changed their mind?

“This,” she added, “is one of those times when I think you are right. We don’t have the right to decide what will become of the Kingdom of Mistral. I suppose not even Professor Ozpin took that power upon himself. We are here to defend the kingdom so that it can make its choices for itself.”

There was a knock on the door. “Pyrrha?” Swift Foot called from the other side. She sounded a little upset about something. “May I come in? I need to talk to you.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Of course,” she agreed. “Please, enter.”

Swift Foot opened the door and walked in. She moved swiftly, and she looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were pursed together, and her head was bowed a little. When she opened her eyes, they were watery.

“I… I have a confession to make,” she said.

“'Confession'?” Jaune repeated.

“I… I did not come here… completely honestly,” Swift Foot said. She sped up as the words began to tumble out of her mouth. “My father sent me here to spy on you and to sow discord amongst your company so as to diminish your power. But I will not. I have told my sister Terri-Belle that I will not. I have told her that-”

“Wait,” Pyrrha said, her voice sharp. She got to her feet, and as she rose, she was surprised to feel anger burning within her breast. She had trusted Swift Foot. She had trusted in the honour of a lady of the House of Thrax, a daughter of the Steward, a Mistralian aristocrat. She had trusted Swift Foot, and Swift Foot had betrayed her.

Pyrrha looked down to see a fire burning in the palm of her hand. Swift Foot had noticed it too, and it made her tremble before Pyrrha clenched her fist to extinguish the flame.

Pyrrha’s voice, when she spoke, was like the ice over which she held command. “Your father sent you to spy on me?” she repeated.

Swift Foot nodded unhappily.

“And how much did you tell him?” Pyrrha demanded.

Swift Foot stared at her for a moment. “Everything,” she whispered.

Pyrrha closed her eyes and bit her lip and fought to restrain an eruption of her magic. “I… I see,” she said. “So he knows that I am the Fall Maiden?”

“He does.”

“Why?” Jaune shouted, rising to his feet in turn. “How could you just-?”

“I didn’t know you then,” Swift Foot said defensively. “I only came to know you later, and when I did… when I came to know your courage, your nobility… I have not told my father anything for the past several days. I have not told him anything of note since I told him that you were the Fall Maiden. He asked me to find out more about the magic: how it worked, what other powers there were, how they could be obtained, but… but I didn’t try because…”

“Because?” Pyrrha prodded.

“Because… because you have inspired me,” Swift Foot said, her voice small and tremulous. “You… there are times, my lady, when I still can’t believe you’re real. You have stepped out of the lore and legend of our people, a true lord after the ancient fashion but rendered nobler because you do not seek to rule. You have inspired me to be more than simply my father’s instrument, and so…” She knelt down upon the floor. “If you were to cast me from your house, it would be no more than I deserve, but if you can find mercy in your heart, then I vow, upon whatever honour remains to me, that I will serve you faithfully, now and all my days, until my lady release me or death take me.” She bowed her head. “Use me as you will; my fate is in your hands.”

Pyrrha said nothing. She did nothing. Jaune looked at her expectantly, Swift Foot waited upon her word, but she said nothing.

It took her a moment to find something to say. “You were sent to sow discord amongst the company?”

“I was,” Swift Foot agreed unhappily.

“You… do not seem to have done a particularly good job of it,” Pyrrha observed and hoped it was not too unkind an observation.

Swift Foot snorted. “No, my lady, I did not even attempt it.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Jaune demanded. “You could have just… stopped.”

”I fear my father will reveal the truth to you to spite me,” Swift Foot answered. “I thought it best to tell you first.”

“So when we talked about Pyrrha’s ambitions-”

“I was getting a feel for how you felt and how Pyrrha felt,” Swift Foot acknowledged. “I am sorry.”

Jaune nodded. “So, what did you think?”

Swift Foot hesitated. “I thought… I think… how absurdly ironic it is that you, Pyrrha, are both the person who could most easily seize power in this city and the only person of note and rank who does not want to.”

Pyrrha looked at Jaune, into his eyes. She had the feeling that he already knew how she would respond and was resigned to it even if he disagreed with her.

It’s not as if we haven’t forgiven more that was confessed to us much later.

She took a step forward. “Rise, Swift Foot,” she said, “and thank you for being honest with me.”

Swift Foot looked at her, a look that verged on awe in her eyes.

“You mean-”

“You are skilled with the sword,” Pyrrha said, “and Mistral can use all the skilled swords that it can muster. Perhaps… perhaps this is all part of some incredibly clever plot on your part, but I cannot see it, and for that reason… I believe you. It is a pity that your father is aware of what I am, but… I suppose that my arrogance in standing aloof from the Council for so long is partly to blame for the suspicion in which I am held. Can you tell me something of your father in turn?”

“Anything,” Swift Foot said.

“What does he think of me now?”

Swift Foot sighed. “I fear he yet desires your destruction; he will fear you so long as you have power.”

“I see,” Pyrrha murmured. I was afraid of that. “Unfortunately-”

“Begging your pardon, Lady Pyrrha,” the interruption came from Iris, one of the Nikos family maids, as she walked deferentially into the room. “I apologise for the interruption, but Lord Rutulus is at the gate, asking to speak with you urgently.”

The Noose Tightens

The Noose Tightens

Lady Nikos found Qrow Branwen at the back of the house, the paper doors leading out into the garden slid back while the man himself sat in the doorway, back slumped and elbows resting upon his knees.

He looked a rather pathetic sight. Small wonder he had been hiding in his guest room for so long.

And yet, at the same time, she could not help but pity him. To be rejected by one’s blood was… a rather unfortunate thing, something she would not wish upon her greatest foe.

She approached him and made no trouble to hide her approach; she did not muffle her footsteps on the wooden floor. Nevertheless, he did not heed her coming. He didn’t look at her. He paid her no mind at all as he reached for a flask of liquor.

Lady Nikos lashed out with her cane, striking the flask out of his hand and knocking it away into the darkness of the garden.

“Hey!” Qrow exclaimed, and now he looked at her. “What’s the big idea, lady?”

“Have you not drunk enough?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Or are you determined to preserve us all from the demon by drinking all the city dry? I am sure your sacrifice will be long remembered here in Mistral. We will write a ballad in your honour.”

Qrow snorted. “You do that. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I don’t need some hoity-toity Mistral jerk telling me what to do.”

“Clearly, you need someone to tell you what to do, on the evidence of your behaviour unsupervised,” Lady Nikos observed.

Qrow laughed sardonically. “Go to hell, lady,” he muttered. He rose to his feet, swaying slightly. “Or should that be: go to hell, m’lady?” He took a step into the garden.

“You are a coward,” Lady Nikos said in a voice as cold as ice and as sharp as a dagger.

Qrow rounded on her, eyes blazing. “What did you say?”

“I named you coward and spoke true,” Lady Nikos declared, her voice ringing. “My daughter fights to defend this city against its enemies; she risks her life near everyday alongside her companions, children all or near enough. Meanwhile, you, a grown man and a warrior of some repute, waste away the treasure of your time in drunken idleness, shirking the struggle to be waged by those half your age or less, though ten times your betters in courage.”

“Get off my back,” Qrow snapped. “I don’t see you out on the battlefield.”

“A fact which grieves me every single day!” Lady Nikos cried. “Or do you think I send my only daughter, the hope of our house, out to battle against the terrors of the world with a glad heart while I sit idle, my body failing?”

Qrow glowered at her. “It’s not my body that’s failing,” he muttered. “It’s something worse than that.”

“Because of your grief?” Lady Nikos asked. She did not wait for his reply. “I have buried a husband before his time, Mister Branwen; I know a little of grief and its effects. I found work a surer cure for them than brooding.”

Qrow was silent for a moment, nodding his head in mute agreement. “I’ve seen that for myself.”

“Perhaps you should have recalled the sight sooner,” Lady Nikos suggested acidly. She paused. “You are a very lucky man, Mister Branwen.”

Qrow let out a harsh bark of laughter. “'Lucky'? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”

Lady Nikos pursed her lips before she let a sigh escape them. “If you tell anyone this, I shall be forced to deny it, but I would give up all the wealth of my house and all its ancient dignity to have my husband returned from the embrace of death. To have him embrace me. To have Pyrrha’s father be present on her wedding day. Fate has granted you a gift that is denied to most of us.”

“Fate, huh?” Qrow snorted. “That’s a funny name to call my sister.” He ran one hand through his hair. “She wants nothin' to do with me.” He glanced at her. “Is this where you tell me that you’re not surprised?”

“If I wish to verbally spar, Mister Branwen, I will find an opponent of my own class,” Lady Nikos said dryly. “I came here because my daughter has need of you: your experience, your knowledge.”

“If this is supposed to be some kind of motivational pep talk, you’re doing one hell of a job,” Qrow muttered. “With all due respect, you have no idea of the things that I’ve seen, what I’ve gone up against-”

“I know exactly what you are up against, Mister Branwen,” Lady Nikos declared. “Just as I know that Pyrrha and her companions face it too.”

Qrow stared at her. “Pyrrha told you, didn’t she?”

Lady Nikos nodded.

Qrow groaned. “I remember when our secret society was actually secret.” He shook his head. “How does it make you feel?”

“Proud,” Lady Nikos answered. “Terrified, for Pyrrha and for Mistral.”

“But especially for your kid, right?” Qrow asked.

“Even so,” Lady Nikos agreed. “Knowing that every battle might be her last, that every time she leaves may be the journey from which she does not return.”

“That’s the life of a huntress,” Qrow reminded her.

“I did not wish for Pyrrha the life of a huntress,” Lady Nikos admitted. “She chose that destiny, not I. The glories of the Vytal Festival glimmered brightly in my imagination, true, but there was a part of me that would have preferred for Pyrrha to remain a tournament fighter, as I was.”

“But you let her go to Beacon anyway?”

“Had I defied her will in that, I would have lost her,” Lady Nikos said candidly. “Her heart was set upon it, and I could not deny her something that meant so much and was so fitting to her heritage and skill.” She chuckled. “Pyrrha no doubt believes that I have been a stern mother, and it is true that I have ruled her life in some respects, but she is mine, and being mine, I may dispose of her… a power of which I have made use less than I might have done. And yet, I fancy that, in the judicial exercise of my authority, I have never quite given her cause to hate me.

“I am proud of all that Pyrrha has achieved and that her great gifts were recognised as important for the defence of all mankind… but at the same time, I will make another confession to you, Mister Branwen, which I will again deny if you repeat in public: there are times when I wish I had allowed Pyrrha to train in the ballet.”

Qrow stared at her for a moment, his expression suggesting he wasn’t sure if she was serious.

Lady Nikos stared back at him, her look declaring that she was never anything less than serious.

Qrow chuckled. “Yeah, that might have been the safer option. Although I hear that sometimes, the audience can get pretty scary.” He paused, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “I never had any kids,” he said, looking up at the broken moon above them. “I’m not likely to now. Not sure any woman would want a man like me. But I have two nieces, and I love them both just like they were my own. I taught Ruby how to fight because it was what she wanted – like you said, her heart was set on it – but I guess there was a part of me that… when I found out that Oz had brought them in, I was… I told myself that I was doing these things to keep the girls safe, but they found a way to put themselves in danger after all. Now, Yang is a bandit, and Ruby… I don’t even know where Ruby is.”

“According to Miss Xiao Long, she is somewhere in Sanus, upon the borders of Vale,” Lady Nikos said. “Or at least she was, when last observed.” She trifled with the walking cane in her hands. “My daughter leads a force of warriors while my future son-in-law serves as their strategist; one of your nieces is remaking a tribe of brigands into something approaching respectability, while the other is a warrior shielding mankind from nightmares. Our children have grown up, Mister Branwen, to do us credit by what fine young people they are… and to shame us, by how inadequate they make us seem by comparison to their accomplishments.”

Qrow chuckled. “Yeah. Old folks like you and me, we do seem pretty unnecessary these days, don’t we?”

“Yet we must play our part all the same,” Lady Nikos declared, “or we truly shall have cause to feel shame.”

Qrow smirked. “So we’re back to ‘get off your ass,’ right?”

“Work is a great salve for grief, Mister Branwen,” Lady Nikos reminded him, “but I have found that it can also be a great distraction from worry. I have no authority over you, Mister Branwen, but I can tell you that I envy you.”

“Me?” Qrow repeated.

“Our children are fighting in the front line of a great battle,” Lady Nikos said. “You have the opportunity to fight alongside them, if you wish to take it. Good night, Mister Branwen.” She turned to go.

“Qrow.”

Lady Nikos paused. “Mister Branwen?”

“Qrow,” Qrow repeated. “Mister Branwen… there never was any Mister Branwen when I was growing up.”

Lady Nikos hesitated for a moment. “Good night, Qrow.”

Qrow bowed with a flourish that would have seemed mocking from him just a moment before. “Good night, m’lady; and thank you.”

Camilla kept her eyes upon the bandits once she returned from talking to Jaune Arc. There were quite a few of them at the party, some of them looking uncomfortable and some of them looking as though they would rather rob the palace than make an honest agreement to act as servants of the Kingdom of Mistral. Were these the people who would make up Turnus’ army? Were these the warlords who would bend the knee and pledge their swords to claim the prize of victory for Mistral? She wished she could be sure. She wished she could believe in Turnus the way that Juturna did, so confidently, so wholeheartedly… so blithely.

Camilla found it very hard to be blithe, especially when those she loved insisted on putting themselves into such danger.

She… she loved him. She loved his eyes, his body, but she loved his spirit too: his pride, his resolve, his determination, his desire to order all things as he would. She had meant what she said to Jaune: Turnus would be a great king if he were put on the throne. But he need only take the rule in Mistral to be a great king. He did not need to conquer foreign lands to prove himself, he did not need to stir up armies of brigands loyal to his standard, he did not… he did not need to marry Pyrrha Nikos, or at least, she hoped that he did not.

Camilla sensed Turnus returning before he made it to her; she had turned to face him before he made it through the press of revellers to stand before her. She wasn’t entirely sure where he had been, but his face was… troubled. There was confusion in his eyes, which was something Camilla so very rarely saw there.

He stood in front of her, with an absent air about him, as though he were there but at the same time not.

“Turnus?” Camilla murmured, reaching out to place one hand upon his muscular arm. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” Turnus said, looking at her as though he saw her for the first time. “Yes,” he said softly. “Yes, I am… we should go.”

“Already?” Camilla asked. “Why so soon?”

“Do you wish to remain?”

“I thought that you wished to speak to the brigand chiefs, to sound them out upon your plans for Sanus.”

“Later,” Turnus said, as if his plans were a mere distraction from… from whatever had actually distracted him. “Later,” he repeated. “Later, I will send word to them, or… I will have the arrangements made, but not now. Now, I wish to go.” He paused, seeming hesitant. “Unless you wish to stay. I will not drag you away from here against your will.”

Camilla herself would have welcomed an opportunity to observe the bandit chiefs at greater length and take the measure of them, but she would not keep Turnus here against his will any more, it seemed, than he would drag her out the door against her own. “No,” Camilla said. “I am ready and content to return.” She had already done the most important task which she had come here to perform, by warning Jaune Arc, after all.

She only hoped that he would find some way to make good use of what she told him.

“Excellent,” Turnus said, and he smiled uncertainly at her. “Will you… will you take my arm, Camilla?”

Camilla blinked in surprise. “Turnus?”

Turnus offered her the crook of his arm. “If you will?”

Camilla stared at it. He had never done anything quite like this before, or at least not with her. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Humour me,” he urged.

Camilla’s gaze flickered from the crook of his arm to his face, his noble face looking down at her. A slight smile graced her fair, albino features as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and placed it around his elbow. She stepped towards him, practically leaning on him as, arm in arm, they departed from the palace and into the cool night air.

The path leading down from the palace was illuminated by lanterns placed along the ground, their golden glow dispelling the darkness around them as they walked between the lights, with darkness on either side of them.

“Did you have a pleasant evening?” Turnus asked.

Camilla was silent for a moment. “It was… not unpleasant,” she answered.

Turnus nodded. “For myself… it was quite enlightening.” He paused, and his steps slowed. “There are some who would call what you have done tonight a betrayal.”

Camilla gasped. He knew. He had seen her, and he had guessed. There was no point denying it, no point in asking what he thought she had done. “And you?” she asked softly.

Turnus stopped and looked down at her. “I know that you could no more betray me than I could betray myself… unless it is because I have betrayed myself that you betrayed me.”

“All I have done has been for you,” Camilla declared, “and for Juturna. All I have done has been what your safety motivated me to do. I told Jaune Arc that his enemies lurked beneath the walls of our house because I fear…” she trailed off.

“You fear that they may be our enemies too,” Turnus finished.

“And we may have need of the assistance of the Myrmidons to be rid of them,” Camilla added.

“I am not so certain of that,” Turnus said. But then, he turned to face her and took her by the hands so tenderly. “But I have been wrong before.”

He was looking at her… why was he looking at her that way? He had never looked at her that way before, with that… what did it mean? “Turnus?” Camilla murmured.

Camilla squeaked in surprise as Turnus grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up into the air.

And then he kissed her.

Camilla’s tail stiffened in shock; her ears went rigid with surprise; and then his tongue was in her mouth, and there was no room for anything but the sheer ecstatic pleasure of it. She put her arms around his neck and felt his hands tighten around her waist, drawing her closer to him. She felt as if the world was turning around them, and even if it was really the fact that he was spinning in place, it still felt absolutely wonderful.

She was breathless when he set her down. “That… you… how… why…?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Turnus replied. “Always?”

Camilla nodded. “Always.”

Turnus smiled down upon her like the sun. “Juturna knew, didn’t she?”

Camilla let out a little giggle. “Yes, she knew.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid,” Camilla admitted. “Afraid that you didn’t… that you couldn’t… of what it would mean for us if…” She sighed. “There are some in this city who will not accept a faunus for their queen.”

“Then they will answer to me,” Turnus declared. “As all those who slight or slander you have done.”

Camilla sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of pleasure. “Turnus,” she whispered.

Turnus cupped her cheek with one hand. “Did I… if I hurt you, making you watch as I pursued Pyrrha… all I can do is apologise. It was never my intent to cause you pain.”

Camilla placed her pale hand on top of his and leaned into his palm as though she could melt into his touch. Her red eyes closed as she felt his rough and calloused hand stroke her skin. “I know,” she said, “and for that reason… you have nothing to apologise for.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, a comfortable silence, a silence out of affection and familiarity. There was no need to speak. They could feel each other’s hearts without the need for words.

For a moment, all was well. All was right with the world; Salem and her creatures were forgotten, and so was the disappearance of Manjushage. The menace of the grimm, the bandits, the plans and ambitions of Turnus, Pyrrha and her Myrmidons, all gone. In all the world, there were just the two of them, together.

It was wonderful, but it could not endure.

When Turnus did speak, it was to say, “I have been a fool. My eyes were fixed upon a woman who had turned her back on me, ignoring the more lustrous gem right by my side. I have been a fool in this… and in so much else. I ought to have defended the people to win the throne, I ought to have made Pyrrha a friend to my ambitions by cooperating with her, I ought to have… is it too late?”

Camilla opened her eyes. “Too late for what?”

“To make it right,” Turnus said. “All of it. What should I do? What should we do?”

Camilla pulled his hand down from her face – reluctantly, but she could not afford the distraction now. “You ask me for our course.”

“You wanted to defend the settlements,” Turnus reminded her. “You… your instincts have been more correct than my own, if only you had possessed the courage to give them voice. Speak now, I beg you, and be not silent. What is our course? The power of the House of Rutulus is yours to command…” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “My lady.”

Camilla beamed and allowed herself to soak in the pleasure of how wonderful it felt for him to treat her this way, before she shook her head free of such fancies and wonders and devoted herself to business. “We should call on Pyrrha,” she said, “and make things right between us. I do not say give up your plans for Sanus or your ambitions for the throne, but once it is made clear that we have forsaken any connection to Salem, then… even if she will not look with favour on your intentions, she may not stand in their way.”

Turnus nodded, even as he said, “Do you think that all connection to Salem will be so easily set aside?”

“I think that once we have put to death her envoys here in Mistral, then we can snap our fingers at her, and she will be powerless to do more than rage at it,” Camilla replied.

“'Put to death'?” Turnus repeated. “They are guests beneath my roof.”

“Then give them guest gifts,” Camilla urged. “As of old a host would do on the day their guest took leave of them.” She let the meaning of that hang in the air for a moment. It was, perhaps, not in the spirit of the hospitality, but it was true to the letter of it, and to be frank, Camilla did not think that this was the time to stand on principle, not when Juturna’s life was at stake.

Understanding showed in Turnus’ eyes. “What then?”

“Then we send our envoys to Atlas and see what response they return with,” Camilla replied. “Then we sound out the bandit lords. Then you do as you meant to do. But with no enemies at your back, nor Pyrrha nor Salem’s minions to disturb you.”

Turnus chuckled. “You should speak up more often,” he said. “You are very wise.”

Camilla bowed her head. “I did not think it was for a servant, however honoured, to address the lord-”

“You are no servant,” Turnus said. “You have never been a servant. You are-”

“Your lady,” Camilla whispered.

“If you will,” Turnus said softly. “Juturna has our mother’s ring in her jewellery box. I am sure that she would give it up if asked… and it would suit you very well.”

Camilla gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Turnus! So soon?”

“Have we not wasted time enough already?” Turnus asked.

“Even… even though I am-”

“If Pyrrha can marry a Valish nobody, why should I not marry my best friend and good right hand?” inquired Turnus tenderly.

A sob of happiness escaped Camilla’s mouth, and she wiped at the tear that descended her cheek. “If… if I had known that speaking to Jaune Arc was all it would take to assure my happiness, I would have sought him out long ago.”

Turnus threw back his head and laughed, the sound of it rising up towards the moon. “He may be an impertinent boy, sprung out of no place that can be named with honour, but he has some rough wisdom in him, I confess. And now… shall we go speak with him again?”

Camilla nodded. “To Pyrrha’s.”

“To Pyrrha’s,” Turnus agreed.

Pyrrha and Jaune descended the stairs into the hall, there to receive Turnus and Camilla as they walked through the doors.

The two pairs stood facing one another, Pyrrha and Jaune stood upon the lower stairs of the grand staircase, Turnus and Camilla looking up at them.

It did not escape Jaune’s notice that Turnus and Camilla were hand in hand, even as Jaune and Pyrrha were. He could not help but raise an eyebrow at it.

Camilla’s smile was slight, but grateful, or at least he thought it was.

Did he take my advice after all?

“Pyrrha,” Turnus said, bowing his head to her. He glanced at Jaune, and hesitated for a moment. He had trouble meeting Jaune’s eyes. “May I call you Jaune, Mister Arc?”

Now it was Jaune’s turn to hesitate. “You may,” he conceded, “my lord.”

“Turnus, please,” the Lord Rutulus said quickly. “We are not enemies, but friends. At least I would have it so.”

“Would you?” Pyrrha asked, her tone uncertain. “That has not always seemed the case.”

Turnus clenched his jaw. “You… you speak the truth, and yet…” he trailed off. His voice was very gruff. “Apologies do not come easily to a man such as myself, and yet… I have cause to express regret about my conduct. It has been… unbecoming of my position.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said, her voice soft and even and ever so slightly suspicious. “In what way?”

“In the way that I have failed to match your virtue,” Turnus confessed. “You have been… a shepherd of the people, and in so doing, you have demonstrated how a lord of Mistral should behave, even in these debased times. When you came to my door, I told you that it was for those who presumed to lead to defend the land, yet I forgot my own advice and thought more of my presumptions to leadership than of my duty to defend the realm. You have shown no such presumptions, but you deserve the acclaim they give you in the street, for you have behaved… as a princess of Mistral ought, in these perilous days. I was too slow to learn from you, and I regret it.”

“I see,” Pyrrha replied, after a moment. “Fortunately, I have some experience with the proud, and if that were all for which you need apologise, I could accept it and gladly so. But I fear it is hard for me to let bygones be bygones while you shelter in your house not only Lionheart but Salem’s more dangerous servants, Chrysalis and Doctor Watts.”

“You need not fear them,” Camilla said, her voice quiet but nevertheless as firm as steel. “They will present no difficulty after tonight.”

Jaune’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

“I suppose I ask if our word that they have had their lives will be sufficient or if you would like to see the heads of these three foes of yours?” Camilla asked.

Jaune and Pyrrha looked at each other, and Jaune for his part found the surprise that he felt mirrored upon Pyrrha’s face. “You’re going to kill them?”

“Do they not deserve death?” Camilla replied.

“Probably. I’m just a little surprised,” Jaune said. “What about… honour and stuff?”

“There are ways around such things,” Camilla informed him.

Remind me not to get on her bad side, Jaune thought.

“What of Juturna?” Pyrrha asked.

“Juturna is harmless,” Turnus assured them. “Nor will I permit any harm to come to her.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she bowed her head. “Very well. This is welcome news, Turnus. May I ask what has caused this change of your mind?”

Turnus glanced at Camilla. “I must credit… Jaune,” Turnus said, still sounding a little reluctant to actually credit Jaune with anything. “He invited me to pay a little more attention to one who has been so close to me that I have, to my shame, overlooked her up until now.”

Pyrrha’s lips turned upwards in a smile, “Does that mean… congratulations are in order?”

“And… another apology,” Turnus muttered. “I should have congratulated you upon your engagement… a lapse I should probably rectify now.” Nevertheless, he did not congratulate them upon their engagement, not for a little while anyway; he stood in the hallway silently, while everyone – even Camilla – looked at him. “Congratulations upon your engagement,” he said, eventually. “A suitable gift will be forthcoming in due course.”

Pyrrha chuckled as she descended the last few stairs into the hall, so that she stood only level with the two Rutulians. Jaune did likewise. “Thank you, Turnus,” Pyrrha said. “I have never desired your enmity, and I am glad to hear that I do not have it.”

“And even gladder to hear that you're coming to your senses about Salem,” Jaune added.

“I have never sought the downfall of Mistral,” Turnus insisted. “Though it may appear as though I have not worked towards its benefit as I ought to have done.” He paused. “May we talk more comfortably? There is more I would discuss with you.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said. “Would you care for some refreshment?”

“That would be most appreciated,” Turnus said courteously.

Pyrrha led them into the drawing room, where Turnus rearranged the chairs so that he and Camilla were sat side by side, facing Jaune and Pyrrha upon the settee. A maid, Hestia, brought tea and a selection of very small cakes. Camilla poured for the others.

Turnus raised his china teacup. “Dare I hope that this is the start of a new beginning?”

Pyrrha raised her cup in turn. “That would please me very well,” she agreed. She drank from her teacup. “How do you intend to deal with Lionheart?”

“He will die alongside the others,” Camilla said firmly. “He has led Juturna into this present mire. Nothing can excuse the fact that he has placed her in jeopardy.”

Wasn’t that her choice? Jaune thought, but kept such a thought to himself. It was clear that harm coming to Juturna was an absolute deal-breaker for Turnus and Camilla, just as it seemed that – perhaps in part to justify that stance on their part – they preferred to see her as a naïve innocent led astray by bad company. And, to be fair, Jaune had never met the girl, so that might be accurate. Or it might not. Either way, it was something that they would have to bear for the greater prize of having Turnus on their side and not having to worry about Chrysalis or Watts or any enemies within the walls of Mistral.

There was a more pressing concern, however. “Doctor Watts and Chrysalis could be made to disappear, I’m sure,” Jaune said. “But Lionheart? People know that he is with you. If you kill him, isn’t that murder?”

Turnus and Camilla glanced at one another. “There are… things that can be said to mitigate such charges, and there are still some men in the police who remember my father fondly,” Turnus declared. “If I were to say that I came home and found Lionheart... behaving improperly with my beloved sister, no one would call me a murderer if, in the heat of my passion, I ran him through with my sword.”

“Unless Juturna contradicted you,” Jaune pointed out.

Turnus’ eyes narrowed. “My sister is no concern of yours,” he said emphatically. “I have told you: she is not a servant of Salem, she is not your enemy. Put her from your mind.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said mildly, reaching across to put a hand upon Jaune’s knee. “She is your family, within your house; she is your concern, not ours.”

So keep your mouth shut, Jaune, he interpreted. Even after three months, he was still finding his feet here.

“Although that does leave the question,” Pyrrha continued. “Of a new Headmaster of Haven Academy.”

“Indeed,” Turnus said. “That will be for the Council to decide, which is why I would take it as a favour if you were to support the election of someone… pliable.”

“‘Pliable,’” Jaune repeated. “You mean somebody who will do as you say?”

“I have enjoyed having influence upon the Council, I will not deny it,” Turnus replied. “I am prepared to share the vote with you, if we can agree on someone.”

“I… am finding it hard to think of suitable candidates,” Pyrrha confessed. “There are the other teachers-”

“I would rather not have Lionheart replaced with one of the Steward’s creatures,” Turnus said. “Is there no one who would support us both?”

“I’m not sure,” Pyrrha said. “Do we not have diverging interests?”

“Need that be so?” Camilla asked. “With the shadow of Salem no longer lying between us, can we not find common ground? Are you so proud or so committed to our present state of affairs that you could not bend the knee to a King Turnus?”

“That depends on how you wish to gain the throne,” Pyrrha replied. “I will not stand by and watch you seize power by force… but, if the Council were to invite you to take the throne or the people acclaim you king in general assembly as was the ancient custom, then what right would I have to stand in your way?”

“Although I’m not sure Swift Foot would see it the same way,” Jaune added. She might have renounced her family and joined the Myrmidons, but depending on what Turnus planned to do with the Steward, she might find it difficult or impossible to stand aside from their fate.

“That is fair enough,” Turnus conceded. “I do not seek to be a dictator or a blood-stained tyrant, but to rule Mistral for the good of Mistral, to improve this country until it can once again hold up its head high amongst the realms of men. So you see, there is no reason why we cannot have a Headmaster at Haven who is of like mind with us or who supports the idea of an alliance with Atlas, not a conflict with it.”

“An alliance with Atlas?” Jaune said. “You mean… you’re talking about something specific, aren’t you? More specific than the order that prevailed before the CCT went down.”

“That system collapsed with Beacon Tower,” Turnus declared. “The world is changing, and we must change with it. Clinging to the old order will accomplish nothing.”

“So you would look further back, to the alliance of Mistral and Mantle before the Great War?” Pyrrha asked.

“Why not? It brought great advantages to both kingdoms,” Turnus explained. “If we take Atlas as a model, then it will help to have them by our side. If we do not reach out, we may make them nervous, especially with our designs in Sanus.”

“Sanus?” Jaune said. “What designs in Sanus?”

“The empty lands east of Vale,” Turnus said. “The lands that were rightfully ours, lost after the Great War-”

“You mean the lands that were disputed by Vale?” Jaune corrected.

“Vale can hardly be said to be using them now,” Turnus replied, as though Jaune were merely nitpicking. “One cannot retain a claim on something that one does not use.”

“And yet you call them Mistral’s lands,” Jaune said softly.

“Because Mistral will make use of them, once they are ours,” Turnus informed him impatiently. “With an army raised from amongst our new bandit allies, we can take Sanus as far as the mountains for ourselves and be strong enough to resist any attempt by Vale to deny us what is rightfully ours.”

“To what end?” Pyrrha demanded. “The territory of Mistral is vast already, so vast that we cannot properly police it all; our huntsmen are reduced in numbers, our population is not so swollen that it is crying out for new lands to settle on, so, Turnus, to what end would we expand our dominion by so much?”

“For the glory,” Turnus declared, as though it were obvious. “When we retake what should have been ours, it will send the rest of the world a signal that Mistral has returned, its glory restored and its strength renewed.”

“And you want Atlas to help with that?” Jaune said.

“We will require their acquiescence, if not their assistance, in return for which they will be granted the north of Sanus for their own,” Turnus accepted. “And with Atlas allied with us upon their northern flank, Vale is even less likely to cause difficulties.”

Jaune shook his head. “General Ironwood is never going to go for that.”

“Why not?” Camilla responded. “They are not his lands. They are nobody’s lands.”

“That doesn’t mean that Vale will like them suddenly belonging to Mistral,” Jaune pointed out. “General Ironwood won’t risk war with Vale so that Mistral can expand to make a statement.”

“General Ironwood is not the whole of Atlas,” Turnus reminded him.

“Not, but he has two seats on the Atlas Council, and Councillor Cadenza has another,” Jaune said. “I don’t think she’ll go for this either.”

“Nevertheless, I would make the attempt,” Turnus said. “Leaving aside your views on how Atlas will answer, what say you to my plan? I have sounded out the Lord Steward upon the question of diplomatic relations with Atlas; I would know if I have the support of Councillor Ward also.”

“Councillor Ward has a mind of his own,” Pyrrha replied.

“But your word carries great weight with him,” Turnus said. “Come, Pyrrha, what say you?”

“The Steward is in favour of reopening relations with Atlas,” Pyrrha said. “But is he in favour of expansion, too?”

“Lord Diomedes agrees that we must take steps to show the world that we are back on our feet.”

“Even though we are not, yet?” Pyrrha replied. “I am sorry, Turnus, but I can have no part in this. Even if it is the will of the Council, I would have to stand aside. I cannot turn away from the problems we face here at home and go to war on the other side of the ocean.”

“You have left Mistral once before,” Camilla pointed out.

“To hone my skills during an era of peace,” Pyrrha responded.

“That’s alright, Camilla,” Turnus said. “As I have said, and as I hope that I make clear, I do not wish to be your enemy. We can at least send word to Atlas and see what they have to say?”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “Of course, if that is the will of the Council.”

“With the right Headmaster ensconced at Haven, how can it not be?” Turnus replied. He got to his feet. “We will take our leave of you now.”

“Good night, both of you,” Pyrrha said.

“And congratulations,” Jaune added, “and good luck.”

Camilla smiled. “Thank you, Jaune,” she said. “For everything.”

They were about to leave when both their scrolls rang. They both answered them, their expression puzzled.

“Big Brother,” Juturna groaned from out of her scroll. “I… I need you to come home right now. I… I need you.”

“Juturna?” Camilla cried. “Juturna, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.”

Lady Ming was surprised to learn, when she returned from the Steward’s gala, that Juturna Rutulus had arrived at her home in her absence and was waiting for her.

Nevertheless, despite the fact that she had been looking forward to a very long and relaxing bath and possibly an evening spent with a glass of wine and some quality television, Lady Ming composed herself as a Councillor of Mistral ought. “Very well,” she said. “Thank you for informing me, Kurt.”

The captain of her company bowed to her, her face temporarily obscured by the wolf-pelt helmet that she wore. “Of course, my lady. Do you want a guard to accompany you?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Lady Ming assured her. Lady Juturna would hardly try anything untoward in Lady Ming’s own house, and in any case, said house was full of cameras. Everything that happened in every room was observed, so Juturna Rutulus would have to be mad or stupid to think that she could get away with anything.

And so, Lady Ming walked down the corridor towards the sitting room alone. As she approached, she could hear the sounds of a piano playing on the other side of the door. The sounds were being made, as Lady Ming discovered when she opened the door, by Juturna Rutulus herself, who was sitting at the piano playing rather well.

Lady Ming closed the door loudly. “I wasn’t aware that you played, Lady Juturna.”

Juturna smiled at her, continuing to play the piano without needing to look at the keys. “I took some lessons when I was younger,” she explained, although she was hardly more than ‘young’ now, so it wasn’t entirely clear what she meant by that. “I was told that I had a gift for it, but I had to stop. I didn’t get on with the other children.”

Lady Ming walked towards the piano. “That’s… an Atlesian composition, is it not?”

Juturna chuckled. “Surely you’re not such a chauvinist, Lady Ming, as to refuse to hear Atlesian music in your house.”

“Of course not,” Lady Ming replied, “but it is a curious choice, you will agree.”

“It’s an excellent piece, one of my favourites,” Juturna replied. “The entry of the Gods into Heaven.”

“It sounds a little anemic to me,” Lady Ming remarked.

Juturna was silent for a moment, silent in words at least; she continued playing. “It does lose something without the orchestra.”

Lady Ming leaned on the piano. “This piano is not actually an antique, although it looks like one from the outside. Rather, it is a novelty toy from MARS, capable of not only playing itself but producing all of the orchestral sounds and effects.”

Juturna looked up at her. “Fancy that,” she said. “What a marvellous modern age we live in.”

Lady Ming waited for Juturna to tell her what she was doing there. When she showed no inclination to do so, Lady Ming said, “You must not think me rude, Lady Juturna-”

“But what am I doing in your house?” Juturna asked brightly.

“Indeed,” Lady Ming said. “Your presence here is a most unexpected… pleasure.”

Juturna chuckled. She stopped playing the piano. The instrument was silent for a moment. Then it began playing itself, the same tune as before, only this time, it needed no hands to guide it, no fingers to touch the keys.

Lady Ming’s eyebrows rose. “You knew how it worked all along?”

“No,” Juturna replied, as she got up off the piano stool. “But my friend does.”

Lady Ming frowned. “Your friend?”

“The one outside,” Juturna explained, as the sounds of the piano were joined by a full orchestra. “Hacking your security cameras.”

The volume of the orchestra rose dramatically. Lady Ming’s eyes widened in horror. Juturna smirked viciously. Lady Ming opened her mouth to cry out, but her words turned to a cry of pain – a cry drowned out by the sound of the orchestra coming from the piano – as Juturna shoved a knife into her gut.

Lady Ming gasped, she gurgled. She felt blood filling her throat. She tried to call out, but she couldn’t even hear herself over that Atlesian racket, let alone be heard by her servants.

The last thing she saw as she sank to the floor was Juturna Rutulus standing over her, smiling cruelly down as Lady Ming’s life ebbed away.

Chrysalis waited until Lady Ming was dead, and – still wearing Juturna’s form – carried her body over to a large wooden trunk set against the back of the room. It was nearly empty, with only a couple of bolts of blue silk there, and Chrysalis laid the body of the late Lady Ming inside and slammed the lid down, locking the chest up.

Only then did the piano and its attendant orchestra fall silent.

“Thank goodness,” Chrysalis groaned. “I like the tune, but the bombast of a full orchestra makes it impossible to hear oneself think.”

Doctor Watts chuckled through her earpiece. “The late Lady Ming was right in one respect, my dear: you do play very well.”

Chrysalis chuckled. “Thank you, Doctor. Imagine what might have been if only Mistral had been willing to grant equal rights to the faunus?”

“You would have dazzled the audiences at every great concert hall in Remnant, I’m sure, but equally, you would have been wasted there.”

“Quite,” Chrysalis agreed. “When you get in, you’ll have your androids dispose of the body? Saving some blood and hair samples, of course, to fool the curious.”

“I will,” Doctor Watts acknowledged. “What are you going to do about that bloodstain on the floor?”

“Call it a wine stain and have it cleaned up.” Chrysalis moved one of the carpets to cover up said stain in the meantime. She transformed, and the blood of Lady Ming that stained her hands and arms disappeared as, in a bust of green fire, she sloughed off the appearance of Juturna Rutulus and became instead Lady Ming, Councillor of Mistral, dressed as she had last been in life.

In this new guise, Chrysalis rang for her servants. A man in the livery of the House of Ming entered and bowed to her.

“What do you wish, my lady?”

“Lady Juturna had to powder her nose,” Chrysalis said. “If she is lost, then have her shown out, will you?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Meanwhile, I shall retire to bed,” Chrysalis said. “I am very weary and am not to be disturbed for any reason.”

“No, my lady.”

“A few guests shall be arriving soon,” Chrysalis added. “It is unfortunate that I cannot greet them personally, but as I said, I am weary. See that guest rooms are set up for them and all their needs attended to; they shall be with us for some time.”

“At once, my lady.”

Juturna hadn’t bothered to go to the party at the Palace. She wanted Camilla and Turnus to go alone so that Camilla wouldn’t have any excuse not to spend time with him and make a move already. Despite having the run of the house in her brother’s absence, Juturna mostly stayed in her room that night, especially as it got later. She lay on the bed, holding her scroll up above her head, playing otome games. A servant brought her something to drink, and then later on, another servant brought her dinner, which clearly didn’t agree with her, because she started to get a funny feeling in her stomach. She felt bloated, but at the same time, when she tried to go to the lavatory there was… nothing. Then she started to get a sore throat, and phlegm started coating it, so that she had to keep swallowing it down because it was getting thicker and thicker, coating her throat until she felt as though she could hardly breathe. Juturna couldn’t concentrate on her games; she could barely see the screen of her scroll sometimes because her eyes kept watering. She coughed, and spluttered, and then coughed until she sounded as though she was about to hurl, but it did her no good at all. She wiped her eyes and saw that she had gotten a notification of an email… from Doctor Watts?

That was a little weird. Why did he need to send her emails when he was still in the house? Nevertheless, Juturna - after coughing into the back of her hand - opened up the email.

There was no message, just a video attachment.

Juturna played the video. She saw… herself? Yes, it was her, and it was in a room… was that Lady Ming’s house? Juturna saw herself sit down at the piano and start to play, which was odd, because Juturna didn’t know how to play the piano. Dad had wanted her to learn, like Mom, but Juturna had wanted to learn how to play the guitar, and she had gotten her way. She’d always been able to wrap her father around her little finger. She was his precious princess, after all; he’d never been able to deny her anything she wanted.

Juturna frowned as she blinked back the water in her eyes, wondering when this was supposed to have happened. She looked just like herself, so it couldn’t have been long ago, so why didn’t she remember it? And when had she learned to play the piano?

Lady Ming walked in, and Juturna gasped in shock as she… she stabbed Lady Ming? To death? Was she dead? Had she killed Lady Ming?

No. No, that hadn’t happened. Juturna would have remembered that. And it wasn’t as if she was losing her memory, because there weren’t any long gaps of time that she couldn’t remember, and that was how it was supposed to work, right?

Why had Doctor Watts sent this to her? How had he sent this to her? And why had it just deleted itself off her scroll now that it had finished playing, what was going on here? Juturna rolled off the bed and strode to the door. Even if she felt like crap right now, she still meant to get some answers out of her guest.

She flung open the door… to behold herself on the other side.

Herself, but covered in blood, staining her hands, her shirt, her jacket. This other Juturna was a mess of blood; it even stained her face and had gotten into her hair until the blue streaks looked more like the fiery red in Turnus’ hair.

Juturna gasped, covering her face with both hands. “What… who are you?”

The other Juturna cocked her head. “Who am I? I’m you, after you murdered Lady Ming.”

“But… but I didn’t-”

“It looks like you did it,” the other Juturna said. She took a step forward, forcing Juturna to retreat backwards into her room. “The footage shows that you did it.”

“But I didn’t!” Juturna exclaimed.

“No?” the other Juturna said. Green flames flickered up and down the other Juturna’s body, and she was transformed into Chrysalis of the White Fang, seeming taller now and more commanding, looming over Juturna as she smirked cruelly. “Well, then perhaps I did it? Wearing your face.” The flames consumed her once again, and in her place stood Lady Ming herself. “Or perhaps I am Lady Ming, Councillor of Mistral?” She transformed again, into one of the Rutulus’ maids; Juturna didn’t know her name. “Or perhaps I’m the girl who brought you a drink and whom you didn’t even look at. Did you enjoy it? How are you feeling, my lady?”

Juturna stared at her, eyes wide. “What the hell is this?” She coughed, doubling over, clutching at her stomach. “What did you do to me?”

Chrysalis laughed as she transformed once more into her true form, armoured and imposing. “This is the bargain that you made when you involved yourself with Salem.” She took another step forward, forcing Juturna to retreat a pace. “Did you think that it would be easy? Did you think it would be painless?” She advanced a step, and Juturna retreated. “Did you think that you would get everything you wanted without having to suffer for it?” She took another step forward, and Juturna backed into the wardrobe door and found herself wishing that Camilla was inside like she’d been the last time. “Did you think that you were in command?” Chrysalis leaned with one hand against the wardrobe, leaning in against Juturna, their faces so close that she could have licked Juturna’s face had she wished to do. Chrysalis chuckled, and Juturna felt the latter’s breath upon her face, Chrysalis’ spittle flying onto her cheek as she turned away.

“Look at me,” Chrysalis growled. When Juturna did not look, that growl became a snarl. “I said 'look at me!'”

Juturna found herself whimpering as she turned her face to look into the eyes of Chrysalis, green eyes, large and full of malice.

“Of course you did,” Chrysalis said. “You thought all of those things, you poor, deluded, sheltered little girl. Because that’s how the world works for you, isn’t it? You’ve been given everything you want just because you asked for it, and if ever you get into difficulty, you just call for your brother to make it all go away.” She reached out and stroked Juturna’s cheek with her other hand. “Your brother isn’t going to make this go away, my lady. Well, not without some suffering of his own, even if it is only his pride that suffers. Call him and bid him return.”

Juturna swallowed. Her throat felt as though it was filled with daggers. “What if I don’t?”

Chrysalis grabbed her by the neck, not squeezing tight but holding onto her forcefully. “Then you will die, in considerable pain. Is that what you want?”

Juturna shook her head. It’s not what I wanted at all.

None of this is what I wanted.

“Then call your brother,” Chrysalis said. “I need to explain to him how things are going to be from now on.”

Juturna and Camilla knelt upon the floor, and Camilla cradled Juturna in her arms as Juturna sobbed into her lap.

“They… he… Daddy’s gone?” Juturna asked in between sobs.

Camilla closed her eyes, her face contorting in a snarl of anger she was very glad that Juturna could not see. “We… we will need to find a stone carver skilled at producing likenesses.” That… that would be something for Turnus to see to, when he returned. It was not for her to decide upon the arrangements for Lord Rutulus' rest.

“Why?” Juturna asked.

“Because the world is a cruel place, and those who live in it are often lacking kindness,” Camilla murmured. She stroked Juturna’s head. “But don’t… I’m so sorry, Juturna. I’m so sorry this had to happen to you.”

“Did… did you speak to Big Brother?”

“Turnus is flying home immediately; he’ll be back soon, and he can... “ Camilla hesitated. “He can pick up the pieces. Juturna… I don’t know what’s to come, but… but I promise it will be alright. No matter how cruel the world is, you never need to be afraid. I will always protect you.”

For her part, she waited for Juturna to cry herself to sleep and then put her to bed amongst her stuffed animals.

Then she took her bow and her dust blade and went to war.

“Juturna?!” Camilla cried as she flew down the corridor, the words of her vow echoing inside her head. She had promised to always protect Juturna, she had promised Juturna that she need never be afraid, and now… now fear stalked them in their very home.

“Juturna!” Turnus shouted.

Their footsteps grew closer until Camilla flew through the doorway to find Chrysalis holding Juturna by the shoulders as the latter coughed so hard that she was doubled up on herself. “Get your hands off her!” Camilla snarled.

Chrysalis chuckled as she threw Juturna across the room, or rather, pushed her so hard that she staggered into Camilla’s arms, which enfolded protectively around her. Camilla barely noticed the coughing; she was focussed on keeping Juturna safe from their enemy, and she had no more doubts remaining that Chrysalis was anything but their enemy.

She dragged Juturna backwards while Turnus placed himself between the two women and Chrysalis.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Lady Ming is dead,” Chrysalis declared. “Murdered, by me. Or by Juturna Rutulus, depending on how you look at it. That’s certainly what the footage presents. Of course, nobody need know that Lady Ming is dead because… well.” She was consumed by green fire, until Lady Ming stood in Juturna’s room. “As you can see, I am alive and well and ready to continue my duties leading this country to a better tomorrow. I don’t want you to worry too much about that. In fact, you should be happy; you’ll have another ally on the Council who agrees with you about an alliance with Atlas. No, what you ought to worry about is that your sister is gravely ill.”

“What have you done?” Camilla demanded.

“Poisoned her,” Chrysalis answered with blunt honesty. “Doctor Watts - who has already taken up new lodgings with Lady Ming, by the way, in case you had any ideas - has medicine that will slow the effects of the poison-”

“'Slow,'” Turnus repeated. “Not 'antidote'?”

“Of course not, we wouldn’t want her cured too quickly, would we?” Chrysalis asked. She laughed. “The antidote will be dispensed to you once your usefulness has come to an end. Until then, you will be given medicine of the good doctor’s own devising so that your sister will not die, although I don’t guarantee that she’ll have an altogether pleasant time of things.”

Juturna’s whole body shuddered as she coughed. “I’m sorry, Big Brother; I didn’t think-”

“No,” Chrysalis agreed. “You didn’t think, did you? None of you thought that you could ever encounter something greater than yourselves. None of you thought that there would ever come a time when your money and your old blood would count for nought. I am in command now, my lord and ladies, and you will do as I instruct you. When we have found the key we seek, you will place your troops at my disposal for its retrieval. When the time comes to occupy Haven Academy, you will place your troops at my disposal a second time. When the Council votes to send an embassy to Atlas, you, proud Lord Rutulus, will go as Mistral’s representative and deliver messages that Doctor Watts will supply to those whom Doctor Watts will instruct you to give them.”

Turnus growled but did not argue. What was the point of arguing? There was a noose around his neck unless… unless he was willing to abandon Juturna, and that… that, he wouldn’t do.

Chrysalis laughed. “Don’t look so angry, Lord Turnus. You’re not about to learn this lesson nearly as painfully as Pyrrha Nikos will, after all. She is going to die for her pretensions, for daring to think that she is able to stand as an equal against the power of Salem. All that you are going to have to do… is kneel.”

“What?!” Turnus demanded.

“Kneel!” Chrysalis snapped. “Bow to me! All of you, on your knees, as a lesser power before the greater.”

For a moment, all was silent. The only sound was Turnus’ heavy breathing, which verged on grunted anger.

Then, slowly, reluctantly, he knelt. He descended to his knees upon the floor of Juturna’s bedroom and knelt at the feet of Chrysalis.

Camilla did likewise, gently pulling Juturna down with her, until they were all abased upon their knees, head bowed, Chrysalis standing over them like a queen.

Once more, she knelt, as she had knelt before, cradling Juturna with water in her eyes.

But now, she was powerless, helpless, unable to protect the two people she loved most in all the world.

She glared up at Chrysalis, with swords and spears and daggers in her eyes. If it costs me my last breath, I will take yours.

Chrysalis seemed blind to Camilla’s fury. Or else, she felt herself totally beyond its reach. She laughed, terrible, gleeful laughter that echoed in their ears.

And there was nothing they could do.

Pyrrha had gathered her inner circle, with the addition of Aska Koryu and Swift Foot; for all that she had been sent as a spy into Pyrrha’s house, she had pledged herself anew now to Pyrrha’s cause, and even if she was yet a spy, these were things of which, perhaps, the Council should be kept informed.

Pyrrha herself was trying to reach Turnus on his scroll. He had given her his number shortly before leaving for his own home in a great hurry. He was not responding. Nor was Camilla.

“They’re not answering,” she said, looking up and around the circle of her friends and advisors.

“He sent you a message?” Neptune asked.

“One message, yes,” Pyrrha replied. “It seems that was all he dared to send. ‘Lady Ming killed by Chrysalis. Juturna poisoned. They have me in a vice.’”

“He fears that Doctor Watts is monitoring his communications,” Aska muttered. “He is right to fear it. If Lady Ming is dead, then it is a reasonable assumption that Chrysalis, having killed her, means to impersonate her on the Council.”

“Are you sure?” Sun asked.

“She has tried it before, in Atlas,” Aska explained. “She did not kill the Councillor then, but kept her alive for information. This allowed for Councillor Cadenza to be rescued by Twilight Sparkle, who had noticed that her behaviour was out of character. I fear that Chrysalis will have learned from her mistake… her mistake in allowing the councillor to live, at least.”

“And Turnus and Camilla are not responding,” Jaune said, “because they’re having Juturna’s life held over them to get them to cooperate. It’s clear to me they’d do anything for her.”

“They saw the truth too late, alas,” Pyrrha whispered.

"How did she get away with this?" Swift Foot asked. "Terri-Belle was supposed to have someone watching the house in place of Aska. Surely, they would have seen Chrysalis – even disguised as someone else – calling on Lady Ming?" She frowned. "Lady Pyrrha, with your permission, I will speak to my sister, see what she knows of this and warn her if she knows nothing."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "Go, as quickly as you can."

Swift Foot bowed her head and strode rapidly from the room.

Swift Foot left the room as quickly as she could, barely restraining herself from running as her feet carried her through the corridors. Her footsteps were a drumbeat on the wooden floor as she made her way to the small guest room that she shared with Ditzy Doo.

"Hey, Swift Foot," the other girl said, looking up at her – probably – as she came in. "What's going on? Things seem… a little weird tonight. And I heard some loud noises."

Swift Foot sighed. "It… has been a rough night for a lot of people, Ditzy," she admitted.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really," Swift Foot murmured, as she sat down on her bed. "Except… I'm going to be using my semblance now. I'll be… travelling outside of my body, which is going to stay here, asleep, but not. Can you keep an eye on it for me? Not that I think anyone here would do anything, but-"

"Sure," Ditzy said. "You're safe with me, Swift Foot."

Swift Foot believed her. How was it she believed an Atlesian girl of no family, whom she had only known for a brief amount of time, more readily than she would have believed certain of her own family in that position?

Because she's kind and honest, came the slightly uncomfortable answer.

"Thank you," Swift Foot said as she rested her hands upon her knees and projected herself outwards.

She could move herself more swiftly if the occasion demanded, she could burn her aura at a faster rate to push herself, and she did so now. She soared swiftly over the streets of Mistral, the streets that were unaware that chaos was erupting in the city and that an agent of the White Fang was poised to seize a voice in the government.

Swift Foot flew through the alleyways and up the hill, returning in spirit to the palace that she had so recently departed in body, slipping spectrally through the gilded corridors until she arrived in Terri-Belle's chambers.

Fortunately, her sister was there, getting undressed after the party.

"Lady Terri-Belle," Swift Foot said, remembering the state in which they had left matters.

Terri-Belle turned, tossing her bow tie onto the bed. She stared at Swift Foot's astral form as she undid her collar. "Judging by your formality, you remember the manner in which we left our last conversation."

"I do," Swift Foot assured her. "Believe me, I would not have returned here if it were not urgent. Lady Ming is dead."

Terri-Belle's eyes widened. "Dead? How, and how do you know this?"

"Murdered, by Chrysalis of the White Fang," Swift Foot said, "who is probably impersonating Lady Ming even now."

"Gods and ancestors," Terri-Belle murmured. "Hang on." She strode to the door of her chambers, flinging it open and addressing the guard outside. "Find Lady Blonn Di and tell her that I wish to see her here, at once."

"Yes, my lady," the guard murmured. Swift Foot heard his footsteps as Terri-Belle shut the door.

"I tasked Blonn Di with overseeing the surveillance on Turnus' house," Terri-Belle muttered. "What is Turnus doing?"

"We don't think that this is his initiative," Swift Foot replied. "Turnus texted Pyrrha to tell her that Lady Ming was dead at the hands of Chrysalis and his sister poisoned, we think he is being forced to comply with her agenda."

"What agenda?"

"I… don't know," Swift Foot admitted. "Pyrrha might know, but she has not told me."

“You haven’t really tried to find out, have you?” Terri-Belle asked pointedly.

“Pyrrha isn’t the one you should be worrying about,” Swift Foot insisted. “Pyrrha isn’t the one who just murdered a member of the Mistral Council and took her place.”

“Allegedly.”

“You can’t mean to just do nothing about this!”

“No, I do not,” Terri-Belle replied. “I have asked Laird McCullen for some means to detect infiltrators… and now I have its first test subject.” She paused. “Thank you, sister, for bringing me this news.”

“We would never withhold information that places Mistral in jeopardy,” Swift Foot declared.

Terri-Belle did not reply to that; she simply said, “You’d better go before Blonn Di arrives, considering your relationship.”

Swift Foot nodded slightly. “Very well. Good luck, Lady Terri-Belle… big sister.”

Terri-Belle watched as her little sister’s astral shade disappeared.

Lady Ming, dead and replaced. Ancestors preserve us.

She wasn’t sure what would be worse: having an enemy agent on the council or elections in the midst of all this palaver.

She was granted but a moment’s peace before Blonn Di arrived, her gown trailing behind her as she walked into the room. She inclined her head. “You summoned me, sister?”

"What do your agents watching the house of the Rutulians report?" Terri-Belle asked.

Blonn Di shrugged. "Nothing. Their watch has been supremely uneventful."

“Swift Foot would say they have not been watching carefully enough,” Terri-Belle said.

Blonn Di smiled at her. "Has little sister been in here, spreading stories about me? Will you take the word of a traitor over your faithful sister? What is Swiftie saying about me? Or should I ask what she’s saying that I’ve missed?”

"The death of Lady Ming," Terri-Belle replied. "And her replacement by a shapeshifter."

"A shapeshifter," Blonn Di cried. "How terrible! Fortunately, MARS have just delivered a… science machine with a very long name that can take blood tests to prove that people are who they say they are. I am willing to go to Lady Ming's house this very night to test her, if it will ease your anxiety." The smile did not move from her face. "Or we could ask if there was any reason, any reason at all, why the great Pyrrha Nikos might have put our naive, self-righteous little sister up to this.” She chuckled. “Or perhaps not, I'm sure Pyrrha’s far too honourable to attempt to sow discord amongst the Council, to make us suspicious of one another, to distract us from the real threats that we face," Blonn Di said. "Why, we don't even know that there really is a shapeshifter in the house of Turnus Rutulus, only that-"

"Enough," Terri-Belle said, wearily. "That's enough, Blonn Di. Swift Foot came to me in good faith, I will respond in kind"

"Swift Foot has sided with our enemies," Blonn Di insisted. "Why should we consider her to be anything more than a pawn, or a traitor?"

"Because she is our sister," Terri-Belle snapped. "Fashioned of our father’s seed, sprung out of our mother’s womb, blood of our blood, scion of the Thracian line. That yet has meaning, at least to me. Question your men again, make sure they have found nothing. We will both call upon Lady Ming and test her blood with this contraption Laird McCullen has provided. And we shall question Lord Rutulus about this alleged text Pyrrha claims to have recieved."

"And if Lady Ming is, in fact, Lady Ming?" Blonn Di asked.

Terri-Belle's eyes hardened. "Then I will wonder what motive Pyrrha had for sending Swift Foot to try and deceive me in this way." Or what motive Turnus had for attempting to deceive Pyrrha in this; it is not as if House Thrax could be turned against her more.

Blonn Di curtsied. “Very well, I will go muster men… and get the machine.”

She retired from the room, and once more, Terri-Belle was left alone.

She sat down heavily upon the bed and put her head in her hands.

Everything is falling apart.

What are we to do?

What is Mistral to do?

Everyone was still waiting for Swift Foot when she returned. “I’m not entirely sure if Terri-Belle believed me,” she admitted, “but she and Blonn Di are going to use MARS tech to determine if it is the real Lady Ming.”

“It will not work,” Aska said pessimistically. “Such tests can be fooled with sufficient wit and intellect. Or do you think there is no such security in Atlas? As I told you, it was only by observation of her behaviour that Chrysalis was detected last time.”

“Now that we know the truth, if nothing else, we can watch for similar slip ups from ‘Lady Ming,’” Pyrrha said. “Assuming she does fool the blood test.”

“But until Chrysalis makes a misstep, Salem has two councillors, whatever she wants to do with them,” Arslan growled. “She has the votes for an attack on Atlas now.”

“Arslan,” Pyrrha said, “talk to your friend Kurt; tell her… tell her as much as you dare; maybe she can find Lady Ming’s body or… expose Lady Ming somehow, I’m not sure, but tell her and tell her that any aid that she can render would be appreciated.”

Arslan nodded. “I’ll go call her right now.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, as Arslan dashed out of the room.

“There must be something else that we can do,” Sun said. “I mean, if Arslan’s friend can’t help, there must be something else, right?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I think - I fear - that we… that I have made a mistake in attempting to stand alone. We must send word to Atlas, to warn General Ironwood of a possible attack by Mistral and, just as importantly, to warn him of the danger posed by Salem’s agents here in Mistral and to ask for his aid.”

“You think he’s going to show up with a fleet like he did at Vale?” Jaune asked.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind if he did,” Pyrrha said with a nervous laugh in her voice. “But even if he sends but one specialist and some wise council borne out of his greater experience, I would welcome it.” She looked around her companions, wondering who she could send. She needed Jaune here with her, not only for his skills as a strategist but also because she feared she would be lost without him. Ren, Nora, Neptune, Swift Foot… who could she send? Who would command the respect of General Ironwood? Who would he listen to?

“Mother,” she said, “I must ask you to go to Atlas and speak to the General on our behalf.”

Lady Nikos looked a little surprised. “Me? You would not rather send someone known to him as a servant of Professor Ozpin?”

“That would be either me or Jaune, and I cannot go myself or spare Jaune from my side,” Pyrrha replied. “You have served on the Mistral Council, which might help you secure an audience with General Ironwood in the first place, and when you meet him, he will not be able to deny that you are connected with me. You speak well and without fear; you are the best person I can think of, if you are willing.”

Lady Nikos’s back straightened with pride. “Of course I will go. I will do whatever I must for Mistral.”

“Thank you, Mother, I will not forget this,” Pyrrha vowed. “Sun, I need you to go with her. Keep my mother safe, and if General Ironwood will not see her, then you will have to find Blake, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, any one of our friends who will listen to you and convince them that our need is real and so is the danger.”

“Understood,” Sun said, his face brightening at the prospect of a trip to Atlas and to Blake. “You’ll be safe with me, my lady!”

“I hope so, Mister Wukong, for Mistral’s sake.”

“Please make the arrangements to leave as soon as you can,” Pyrrha said. “And good luck, to both of you.”

Author's Note

I know that some of you have found these Mistral chapters a bit of a slog, for which I can only say thank you for your patience. I can say that because that is the end of this arc for a while as the story returns to Sunset (and her angst) for more travelling across eastern Sanus (and angst), more questionable decisions (driven by angst) and even more... you can probably guess.

All of that next week!

The Magical Journal of Sunset Shimmer and Friends

The Magical Journal of Sunset Shimmer & Friends

Grogar? You met Grogar?

He certainly said he was Grogar, and judging by the number of monsters running around in his catacombs, I could believe that it was him. Who else but the Father of Monsters could have been, well, father to a race of monsters?

That’s amazing. And frightening. And relieving. But amazing because who would have guessed that after his defeat by Gusty the Great, Grogar would end up in your world, I mean the world of Remnant?

Sunset smiled. You can call it my world if you want to. It is my world, really. I was born in Equestria, but I’ve made my home here. I’ve found my place here. Let’s be perfectly honest; this is where I’ll probably die, and probably soon, too.

Do you have to talk like that?

It’s the fate of a huntress, Twilight; it might not be pretty, but it was true even before I got involved with Professor Ozpin and his struggle against Salem. She thought about Benni Haven’s and all the photographs upon the wall, all those young huntsmen and huntresses posed around Fluffy the Beowolf, all those smiling faces; like Benni had said the first time Sunset walked through the door, those smiles didn’t last forever. And neither did the children who smiled those smiles. One might even say that she, Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune had been lucky to make it out okay from as many tough scrapes as they had. There was probably a world out there where they hadn’t been so lucky. And our work with Ozpin just made it even more likely. We’re in a risky line of work, Twilight, and if I ever pretended otherwise, that was just my ego talking. That, or I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I don’t know whether to praise your courage for sticking with it in a world where so many fates of death lie all around you or to think you’re foolish for it.

Would you ever abandon your friends just because the going got tough?

No. Of course not. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.

I’m not insulted. I’m just saying that just because something’s dangerous doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for.

I know. Which I guess leaves me saying that you’re very brave. Not least because you faced down Grogar.

A weakened Grogar.

There was a moment of pause on the other end of the book. You know, it’s funny; when I first spoke to you, you never would have admitted something like that.

Sunset chuckled, but very softly because Ruby was asleep. No, I suppose I wouldn’t. I

Well, I for one am bound to say that I’m very disappointed in you, Sunset Shimmer; spilling the beans about Grogar to Twilight like that. Now what am I going to do for the big surprise?

Sunset frowned. And who is this?

Of course, we haven’t met yet, have we? My apologies, I would have butted in sooner, but The writing on the page abruptly stopped.

Sorry about that, it’s Twilight again. That was just Discord. Sometimes, he gets bored, and when he gets bored, he finds ways to make sure that no one else is.

Sunset blinked. Discord? You mean the statue in Princess Celestia’s garden?

Turns out, it wasn’t actually a statue; he was always a being of pure chaos who was turned to stone a thousand years ago by Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.

Still doesn’t explain how he’s writing in your journal.

Well, after he broke free the first time, my friends and I were able to imprison him using the Elements of Harmony, but then Princess Celestia decided that it would be a good idea to try and reform him, which we did. Or at least, Fluttershy did. I can’t say that I or any of my other friends were much help in that regard. Then he betrayed us all to Tirek, but he regretted it very deeply very soon after, and since then, the only trouble we’ve had from him is occasional acts of mischief.

Sunset frowned. And you honestly thought it was a good idea to let somebody like that run loose?

Isn’t your team full of villains?

That doesn’t mean I trust them.

You trust Cinder, don’t you?

Cinder was never that bad.

It turns out that neither is Discord once you get to know him. Although I am a little confused as to what the big surprise that he mentioned was. What could it have had to do with Grogar? Actually, I’m not sure that I really want to know. You were about to say something?

Was I?

Yes, before Discord cut you off.

Sunset thought about it for a moment. Oh, yes, I remember. I was going to say that I envy you. Not for the crown or the wings or any of the stupid stuff like that, but because you get to live in peace with the people who mean the most to you. You don’t have to worry that your Rainbow Dash is going to get eaten, or shot, or die in some fashion alone somewhere. Your summer days will never end, and you’re incredibly fortunate in that.

It’s not as though our lives are completely free of peril, but I know you didn’t mean to patronise, and I take your point. I can’t imagine how hard it must be. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to face down Grogar himself, even in a weakened state.

“So, you write something in that book,” Cinder said, “and then, by magic, the words appear on a page in a different book in a different world, the world that you come from, and then someone in that world can write in their book, and the words will appear on your page?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, “it’s just like texting on a scroll, really.”

“Except that it’s not a scroll,” Cinder pointed out. “It’s a magic book.”

“Obviously,” Sunset replied, “but that doesn’t mean you have to make it sound weird. This is both perfectly normal and much cooler than a scroll.”

Cinder was sitting across the fire from Sunset, in the centre of their makeshift camp. Ruby was asleep, her red cloak draped over her body like a blanket, while her father kept watch from a discreet distance. Cardin was on watch against attack from without, while the rest of their party was scattered round about.

Cinder licked her lips. The firelight danced upon her face, throwing flickering shadows onto her features. The flames were reflected in her amber eyes. “So, is this a spell that only you can perform?”

“No, the spell was cast on the book,” Sunset said. She smiled. “Do you want to try it?”

Cinder’s eyes widened. “You mean… write to your friend in another world?”

“To Princess Twilight, yes.”

“Princess Twilight,” Cinder repeated. “You do like to keep exalted company, don’t you?”

Sunset didn’t dignify that with a response. “Do you want to speak to her or not?”

Cinder hesitated, silent, but clearly tempted. She leaned forwards and reached out with both hands only to pull them back in. “Are you sure?”

Sunset nodded. “Twilight… Princess Twilight, is very wise. Her words are often a great comfort to me.”

“And now we are at a point where we could all use a little comfort,” Cinder muttered. She got up and walked around the fire. The flames danced upon her scarlet dress as she sat down next to Sunset, who shifted the book over onto Cinder’s lap.

“Do you want me to go?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Cinder said, glancing up from the page of the book and at Sunset. “It’s fine. You can stay.”

“Maybe I can,” Sunset murmured. “But… that doesn’t mean that I should. Call me when you’re finished.”

“Of course,” Cinder said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” she added, although whether she was thanking Sunset for the book or for leaving her be was not quite clear.

Sunset didn’t stick around to find out. She got up from her seat and walked away, leaving Cinder to her thoughts… and to Twilight.

Cinder picked up the pen in one hand, twirling it lightly between her fingers. Her look was pensive. What ought she to say? What could she say, to this creature from another world, this foreign princess, this magical being? What business had someone like her, one as stained and soiled as Cinder Fall, to speak with the princess of a magical land?

Yet I cannot give Sunset back the book and tell her I lacked the courage to write in it.

Eventually, she began to write, the pen scratching across the page in her hand.

My name is Cinder Fall. I understand that I’m addressing Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Yes, I’m Twilight. Princess Twilight, but you can just call me Twilight. Hello, Cinder; I’ve heard a lot about you.

Cinder sighed. Much of it unflattering, I’m sure, but equally certain that all of it, especially the unflattering parts, were well deserved at the time.

We needn’t go over all that. The past is behind you now; you’ve changed, and the future lies ahead.

Is that all that you have to say? My past is a tale of wrath and vengeance, and you can so easily dismiss it by saying that I’ve changed? I am washed clean with you, and all my offences have vanished into the past?

In my world, we believe in the power of forgiveness. It will always be offered to those who are truly penitent.

Is that why Sunset was able to forgive me so easily?

No offence, but that sounds like the sort of question you could ask Sunset yourself.

Cinder snorted. I may ask, in my own time. So, you are Twilight Sparkle?

I am, yes.

Then it is true that on your world there are versions of each of us: a Twilight Sparkle, a Rainbow Dash, a Ruby Rose?

Yes. Although I’m sorry, but I don’t know of any Cinder Fall living in Equestria.

I wouldn’t go by that name in your world, or rather, I should say that the other me would not go by that name, or at least I hope that I would not. Cinder Fall is a name I gave myself after much hardship, a name I took to steel myself to do terrible things. It was not the name my parents gave me, and I hope that it would not be the name under which my alternate lives. For I have heard that yours is a world very unlike our own, a world of peace and prosperity where all dwell in happiness.

I think that Sunset might have oversold it just a little bit. Equestria is not without its problems. We ponies are not perfect; in fact, we’re very far from flawless, we all – and I do mean all – struggle with our flaws, our instincts towards pride, anger, envy. But, from what I’ve been told about the world that you live in, I suppose it’s fair to say that ours is a more peaceful world than yours. Sunset and I were just talking about the way that you live constantly with the threat of death in ways that I couldn’t imagine.

That is a function of our choices, not of our world. There was a time when I lived a carefree life, and the threat of death seemed very far away. It wasn’t until my mother died that what I suppose you might call the reality of our world set in for me.

May I ask you something?

Can I stop you even if I wished to do so?

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Why have you kept the name Cinder Fall?

Cinder paused, the pen hovering over the page. She pursed her lips. When she began to write again, her penmanship was slow and hesitant. What would I call myself if not Cinder Fall?

Do you really want to retain a name born out of bitterness and anger and a desire to harm others?

It is a name born in ill-omened circumstances, but the fact remains that I have no other.

How about the name your parents gave you?

Cinder shook her head, even as she wrote. That naïve little girl died a long time ago.

There was a pause before Twilight wrote back. You speak about yourself as though you were at fault.

I was a fool.

You don’t need to blame yourself for being a child, for being innocent.

Why not?

Because it’s not your fault that misfortune befell your family. You were the victim of what happened to you; you can’t hold yourself at fault for it.

Then I should blame the stepsisters I murdered?

For their part in what happened to you, yes; you can blame them for their own actions and admit that they didn’t deserve to die by your hand for it.

Perhaps. Either way, I cannot go back. I cannot simply become Ashley once again. That little girl, who believed that her mother would always come home and that the strong arms of her father would shelter her from the storm, that girl died many years ago. You may say that it wasn’t her fault, that there was nothing wrong with her naïve delusions

I daresay that you would call many of the assumptions under which we ponies live our lives naïve delusions, but that doesn’t make them wrong or stupid or at fault for doing so.

But that doesn’t change the fact that she is gone. I can’t simply become who I was. For good or ill, I have been transformed by my experiences.

That doesn’t mean that you have to cling on to them. I’m afraid that so long as you cling on to the name of Cinder Fall and all it implies, you won’t be able to move forward.

And what should I move forward to? I have nothing. Nothing but Sunset’s friendship.

A new hand appeared on the page, a different penmanship etching the words; where Princess Twilight's writing was smooth and flowing, this new author wrote in tightly controlled words squeezed into as little space as possible. I'm sure that seems to be the case now, and I think I can understand why it might seem to be the case, but that doesn't make it true. Or at least it doesn't have to remain so.

Cinder raised one curious eyebrow. And to whom am I, for want of a better word, speaking now?

Starlight Glimmer, Princess Twilight's personal student. Someone with more in common with you than either of us might be entirely comfortable admitting anywhere but in a book where we can't see the person on the other side.

Cinder smirked. Indeed? We are alike? Forgive me for doubting that I have very much in common with anyone in your magical paradise.

Paradise? Is that what Sunset's told you? I suppose it's true what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder.

You mean it's not true?

I didn't think so. Or perhaps it's just that I didn't fit in or never found anywhere I could fit in. That was why I wanted to tear it down and rebuild it in a way that had a place for me in it.

I see what you're getting at, but I'm sure you didn't kill anyone in pursuit of your ambitions.

I did cause the annihilation of all life in an alternate timeline.

Cinder stared at the page for a moment. I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

Horrified is probably the better option. I know I was. I am. But anyway, this is all getting off the point. When Twilight and her friends offered me their friendship, I didn't think that the circle of ponies who trusted me would ever get any larger. I couldn't imagine that anyone else would ever want to reach out to me. When I had the chance to reunite with an old childhood friend of mine, I was terrified of what he'd say if he found out what I really was. But he accepted me for who I'd become since then, and I made a new best friend in Trixie. I suppose what I'm trying to say is, don't give up too soon.

Even if you feel as though you deserve to be alone?

Especially then. If there's one thing that Twilight has taught me already, it's that good things will happen if you let them.

Everyone has a path, Cinder. Everyone has a gift they can share with the world. You simply haven’t found yours yet. What is that you want to do? Do you even want to be a huntress?

What does it matter whether I want this or not? I have no skill but dealing death, and I am chained to Vale and its service in any case.

Obligations aside, I don’t believe that you have no other skills. There must be something that you enjoy. Your life cannot be so devoid of meaning.

Cinder hesitated, her cheeks reddening ever so slightly. I do enjoy sewing clothes. Dresses, as embarrassing as it is.

Embarrassing? Why would you think it was embarrassing? My friend Rarity would throw a fit if she could see this.

It’s rather pointless, don’t you think?

Some ponies might say the same thing about kites, but it doesn’t mean I have to pay them any notice.

Does making dresses bring you joy?

It always brought me peace, although I haven’t had the chance to practice much recently.

Then that’s the only thing that matters. You don’t have to devote your life to it just yet, but at least try and find some way to practice it somehow soon.

That is much easier said than done in our current circumstances. But I will try. It might even be an amusing distraction. Thank you, Princess Twilight; this has been much more helpful than I expected.

You don’t need to call me princess, but I’m glad you got something out of our little chat.

“Sunset,” Cinder called, as she turned the page. “I’m done.”

Sunset returned almost immediately, emerging from out of the dark to pass into the light cast by their flickering fire. “Did it help?”

Cinder passed Sunset back the book as the latter sat down. “It was… interesting. We discussed sewing.”

Sunset smiled. “You don’t have to tell me anything; there’s no need to make something up.”

“I’m not,” Cinder replied. “It’s… an old hobby of mine. I mentioned it to the princess and her new student.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose “You never told me that you liked to sew.”

“Of course I didn’t tell you that.”

“I don’t see what’s ‘of course’ about it,” Sunset retorted.

“Yes, you do,” Cinder insisted. “It isn’t the sort of thing that people like us engage in.”

“No,” Sunset allowed. “But it is the kind of thing that better people do.”

Cinder snorted. “You mean your over-dramatic Atlesian friend?”

“Rarity is more of a friend of a friend,” Sunset murmured. “I was actually thinking of Ruby.”

Cinder glanced towards the sleeping girl in the red cloak. “Ruby can sew?”

“She sure can,” Taiyang said as he took a few steps forward to join them. “I’m not sure how she’s able to do it so well, because the best that either her sister or I can do is darn up rents and tears. Her mother… well, you know. I think maybe it was because of her mother that she started to learn, but she pretty much taught herself. And she got pretty good at it too.”

Cinder frowned. “Did she make that outfit?”

“We don’t have a lot of high-end clothing stores on Patch,” Taiyang reminded her. “She made the cape, too.”

Cinder stared down at the sleeping Ruby. “That’s impressive. Very impressive. I made my own dress for the Beacon Dance, but I didn’t make this, and I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. Very impressive.” She glanced down at the ground, and her gaze flickered to the fire that warmed them all before she said, “She’s a very fortunate girl.”

“'Fortunate'?” Taiyang repeated. “She lost her mother, and later she lost her sister, too.”

“But for several years in between, she had a sister,” Cinder countered. “And a father, too.”

“For whatever I was worth,” Taiyang muttered.

“Trust me, Mister Xiao Long, the simple fact of having a father… it will have made all the difference in the world,” Cinder said. Her voice dropped, so low that Taiyang probably couldn’t hear her, although Sunset could with her four ears. “I mean, she even sews. It’s like looking at a… never mind.” She raised her volume once again. “Mister Xiao Long, may I ask you a question?”

Taiyang shrugged. “Sure?”

“Why did you let your wife go back out into the field as a huntress?” Cinder asked. “Why did you let her risk her life, knowing that she had a child who-”

“Two,” Taiyang said, quietly but firmly.

“Hmm?” Cinder murmured.

“Summer had two kids,” Taiyang informed her. “And I don’t see what business it is of yours.”

“Because I never got to ask this of my own father,” Cinder explained. “He died before I was old enough to understand.”

Taiyang cringed a little. “Your mother was a huntress?”

“An Atlesian combat pilot,” Cinder corrected him. “Based out of Argus.”

“Ah,” Taiyang said. “Well, I can’t speak for your father, but I never had a choice in the matter. I didn’t ‘let’ Summer do anything. She made her own choices, including the choice that took her away from her daughters.”

“Why?” Cinder repeated. “Didn’t she love them?”

“Summer loved Ruby and Yang very much,” Taiyang declared.

“But not enough to live for them,” Cinder said.

“Some things are more important, and Summer understood that,” Taiyang replied. “Summer understood that some things are worth fighting for, and that doesn’t change just because you have more to live for then you did before. Summer always fought as hard as she could, and I know that, however she died, she fought to her last breath to try and get home to Ruby and Yang again, but… it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, that’s just how it is. I’m sure that your mom fought like hell to get back to you as well… the fact that she got unlucky, that her number came up, doesn’t mean that she didn’t love you, and the fact that your father didn’t… what? Throw a fit until your mother quit her job? Is that what he was supposed to do? Is that what I was supposed to do?”

“What are we supposed to do?” Cinder demanded. “Just fight until we die because some things are worth fighting for?”

“Only you can make that choice,” Taiyang told her. “Not everyone can be… not everyone makes the choice that Summer did, or your mother. It’s not a choice for everyone. But it’s not a choice to be ashamed of, either.”

“No,” Cinder murmured. “I suppose it isn’t.” She stood up. “Excuse me, I… I’d like to be alone for a moment.”

“Sure,” Sunset said. “You know where to find me.”

Cinder looked down at her, a smile passing quickly across her face for a moment before it disappeared. She turned away, and walked into the darkness.

Sunset watched Cinder go, at least for a little while, before turning her attention back to the journal.

Sorry, Twilight, I won’t keep you for much longer.

It’s fine. At this time of night, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. This castle is so large, there are times when it feels so big and empty, and my friends seem further away than when I lived in the library.

I don’t know if any of that is actually true, but I’ll thank you for pretending that it is.

I’m not in the habit of lying to you, or anyone else for that matter.

Fair enough. So, Twilight, do you know anything about a creature called Unicron?

Unicron? Not off the top of my head, but I could do some research into it. Why?

That thing that Grogar had with him, it was imbued with life by something that Grogar called the Blood of Unicron. It brought the dead to life, it turned Emerald into some kind of monstrosity. Could it be another monster that was exiled from Equestria to Remnant, like the Sirens and Grogar?

Unicron is the laziest imaginable anagram of unicorn, so it’s possible, although what unicorn would name themselves ‘unicorn’ misspelled, and why would Grogar call them that?

Because he drained their blood and used it to create monsters? He obviously didn’t really care about whoever it was. Although there’s also the question of these giant suits of armour to consider.

I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that, either.

No, but you agree it’s bizarre, right?

It’s certainly a twist in the tale.

As if we didn’t have enough to worry about.

So perhaps you should put Grogar out of your mind for now. What’s your next move?

Sunset didn’t reply at once, because the truth was that she didn’t know the answer. It was only the night after they had passed through the Goat’s Cleft, and since then, they had made very little progress eastwards, and that seemed to be largely because Sami wasn’t entirely sure on where they ought to head next. Or she was sure, but was stalling for reasons as yet unknown to Sunset. She wouldn’t put it past the caribou faunus, even if she couldn’t guess her motives for doing so. And in the meantime, while she did whatever she was doing for whatever reasons made sense to her, they languished in the eastern wilds beyond the mountains, dilly-dallying while Professor Ozpin waited for them somewhere out there.

I’m not quite sure yet. It’s something I need to have a word with Cardin about. And Sami.

I should probably leave you to it, then.

And I’ll let you get back to your life. Thanks for letting me unload on you.

“Sunset?”

Sunset looked up, to see Ruby sitting up, her red cape sloughing off her body as she rubbed at her eyes.

Sunset smiled. “Hey, Ruby. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Ruby said, although she didn’t sound entirely okay. “Are you writing to Twilight?”

Sunset nodded. “Yeah, I am. Do you want to say something to her?”

Ruby nodded quickly. “Sure, if that’s okay.”

“Twilight says that she has time, and she chastised me for not taking her word already, so I’m sure it will be,” Sunset said. “Come on, she’ll let you know if she has to go.”

Ruby stood up and fastened her crimson cape around her neck as she walked briskly across to Sunset. She sat down on the log that Sunset was sat on, leaning her body against Sunset’s, pressing herself against her partner. Her expression was almost blank as Sunset passed her the book.

Hey, Twilight, it's Ruby here.

Good evening, Ruby; how are you doing tonight?

I was sleeping, but I had a bad dream.

I’m sorry to hear that. About your sister?

Yes. Has Sunset told you about Grogar and the tunnels?

Yes, she has.

There was a moment when the monsters had me cornered. I was separated from Cinder, from everybody. And there were so many creatures all around me, and I got knocked out. Ruby paused. Somebody saved me, and at the time, I was pretty sure it was Yang, but now, I just don’t know if I was kidding myself or not.

Twilight did not reply immediately. Sunset could only imagine how she must be struggling to come up with anything to say. As she put one arm around Ruby, Sunset felt much the same way.

I don’t know what to say to you, Ruby, although I wish I did. I suppose the only thing that I can say is that I’m here if you need to talk.

I know, and I’m glad. Twilight, do you remember when we talked before, and you told me that you’d been travelling through time?

Again, Twilight paused before replying, which gave Sunset a chance to interject. “Time travel? You’re talking about actual time travel?”

“That’s what Twilight told me,” Ruby said.

I’d forgotten that I’d mentioned that to you, but yes, that happened.

“Ruby, can I have that back for a second?” Sunset asked.

“Uh, sure,” Ruby replied, handing the journal back to Sunset.

Sunset immediately began to scribble furiously. Hey, Twilight, it’s Sunset again. Time travel more than seven days into the past isn’t possible, or at least, that’s what I was always taught. And even then, you shouldn’t be able to sustain it for more than a brief period.

That is the conventional wisdom, correct. That’s what I certainly believed. However, it turns out that Starswirl the Bearded had a time travel spell that enabled travel through much greater periods of time, and for extended durations also. Starlight Glimmer, a misguided unicorn, attempted to use this spell to go back in time and stop my friends and I from gaining our cutie marks, while I also used the spell to stop her and in so doing save Equestria.

Sunset stared down at the page. Equestria was doomed without you and your friends getting your cutie marks?

Not to sound conceited about it, but apparently, yes. I suppose we are the Elements of Harmony. Or at least we were. Fortunately, Starlight Glimmer eventually came to see the error of her ways, and now she’s my student. Just like you and Cinder.

Hopefully she’s dealing with everything better than Cinder is, Sunset thought. That makes sense, I suppose. I’m going to hand you back to Ruby, now.

Ruby seized both book and pen with alacrity. Hey Twilight, it’s me again. I mean, it’s Ruby. Anyway, I wanted to ask, this time travel, this spell that you and Sunset were just talking about, is it something that you could teach to Sunset?

“You want me to travel through time?” Sunset asked, as the words You want Sunset to travel through time? appeared on the page.

“Well, yeah, if it’s possible,” Ruby said, and as she spoke, she wrote, even if that meant that she spoke a little more slowly than normal. “Just think about it! You could go back and save Yang, or you could go back even further and not cause the Breach, and everything would be great! Yang would still be here, the Vytal Festival would have gone off without a hitch, we’d still be Team Sapphire, and you wouldn’t be in trouble with the law.”

“You don’t know that everything would have turned out rosy,” Sunset reminded her. “I mean… what if I hadn’t done what I did down in that tunnel and we’d all died down there? Just look at what Twilight’s writing.”

Ruby, I can understand that the way things have turned out hasn’t been easy for you, but there are grave dangers in meddling with the past. As tempting as it is to assume that one change will make everything turn out better, that doesn’t mean that it will work out that way. When Starlight Glimmer set out to change the past, she didn’t imagine that she would create timelines where evil triumphed, Equestria fell into darkness, or all life on our world was wiped out, but that’s exactly what she did.

But doesn’t the fact that you’re still here prove that it doesn’t really matter? Yes, she created a timeline where everyone died, but you were just able to fix it with more time travel, weren’t you?

Yes, but only by restoring the status quo before the time travel started.

Which was a choice that you made; you could have left things altered, and maybe if things had changed for the better, you would have. It sounds like Starlight Glimmer wanted to change things for the worse and succeeded better than she thought she would. But we want to change things for the better, so we should succeed at that too, right?

I think you’re seriously underestimating the scale of what you’re proposing. You’re talking about months’ worth of events; there is no way that you can predict all the variables that might result from meddling in the past.

Yang’s dead. Professor Ozpin’s dead. The CCT is down, and the world is falling apart. Jaune and Pyrrha are so far away. Salem has one of the four relics. What could we possibly do that could make things worse than they are right now? More to the point, if we do end up making things worse, then we can just take a do over until we make things better. Please, Twilight, if Sunset were willing to go through with this, would you teach her the time travel spell?

Is Sunset willing to go through with this?

Ruby looked at her. “Sunset?” she asked, in a voice that was small and pleading.

Sunset stared into Ruby’s eyes, those silver eyes that glimmered with the light of hope freshly kindled. She knew that if she refused, if she put the possible risks ahead of the possible reward, then she would snap the thread of whatever relationship still existed between her and Ruby.

Ruby had loved Sunset almost like a second sister, practically from the moment they had come into one another’s lives. She had been the first person to open her heart to Sunset Shimmer, and the fact that she opened that heart so effortlessly did not diminish the preciousness of that gift. And in return, Sunset had betrayed her and abused her trust, or so it must seem to Ruby, although that had never been Sunset’s intent. She couldn’t refuse to set right her wrongs and expect Ruby to understand or to forgive her.

And even putting that aside… now that Ruby had raised the notion, Sunset found herself drawn to the idea. Yes, there was some risk – although that risk was mitigated by the fact that you could apparently keep trying until you were satisfied with the end result – but the prize: her honour restored, her sins washed away, lives saved.

What if it was possible to make everything better? What if she could fix her mistakes with the benefit of hindsight?

She took the pen from Ruby and wrote in the book. Hi, Twilight, it’s Sunset; if it is possible to do this, then I will do it.

Are you sure?

I’m not sure I could live with myself if I didn’t try.

Unfortunately, I’m not as sure as you two, and while I don’t think that meddling in the past of your world would affect Equestria, I would still bear a moral responsibility if I gave you this spell. I’m sorry, but I need to give this more thought.

It’s not as if we can force you. But please consider, don’t just go away and wait until you can say no.

While I’ve never been in your situation, I imagine that if I were, I would be willing to take any chance to make things right. I will think about it, but I do need to think.

Fine. Goodnight, Twilight Sparkle.

Goodnight, Twilight!

Goodnight, Sunset. Goodnight, Ruby.

Sunset shut the journal.

A smile of soft contentment crossed Ruby’s face. “Wouldn’t it be great, Sunset? Just a spell, and then we could be back at Beacon, and we’d have our team again, and you wouldn’t be in any trouble, and Yang would be across the hall… wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Sunset found herself smiling too, just to imagine it. “It would be pretty awesome,” she agreed. She could stop herself from making her mistakes and maybe warn herself about what was to come so that they could stop Tempest Shadow, and Bon Bon too. Although… Sunset glanced at Cinder, who stood firing glass arrows into a nearby tree. What would happen to Cinder if they changed the past? Would Sunset come back and find that Cinder was dead? Or still a servant of Salem? Could she condemn Cinder to save Yang? How about to save Yang and Amber and Professor Ozpin and all the rest? Did she have that right?

No. No, she did not. But at the same time, she couldn’t turn around and refuse to do it out of concern that something might happen to Cinder if she did. Perhaps Cinder could come with her into the past and thus be protected from the effects of the time travel? She would have to ask Twilight how the spell actually worked, if Twilight came back and decided that she was willing to teach it to Sunset.

She was fine with teaching me dark magic, but time travel is where she draws the line.

Actually, she wasn’t really happy about the dark magic. I suppose I’ve been pushing closer and closer to the line for some time now.

“In the meantime,” Sunset finally continued, “we need to keep moving eastward, in case Twilight says no, or… or the changes that we can make are not as extensive as we might like.”

Ruby nodded. “I get it, especially the first one. She seems kind of worried, doesn’t she?”

“She has experience in this that we lack,” Sunset conceded. Perhaps we’re the ones who ought to be more worried. “Which means-”

“Someone’s coming!” Cardin shouted. “Grimm!”

They snatched up their weapons, everyone gaining their feet and readying themselves to fight. Ruby held Crescent Rose in its carbine configuration, the stubby red weapon pressed against her shoulder. Sunset cocked the hammer on Sol Invictus as she walked warily towards the edge of the camp.

Someone screamed out in the darkness. “Yona need help!”

Sunset cast a night vision spell on her eyes. The world turned green, or at least coloured with a green tint, and she could see a faunus girl running towards the light of their fire, pursued by a trio of beowolves.

“Get down!” Sunset roared, and the girl dropped to the ground, clearing Sunset’s field of fire. Sol Invictus barked three times, and three beowolves fell, their heads blown clean off.

The girl did not get up.

“Ruby, Cardin, come with me,” Sunset said, but as it happened, she was joined by the entire party as they walked – cautiously, for there was no way to be sure that there weren’t more grimm lurking about – towards the place where the girl had fallen.

They found her lying on the ground, sobbing into her arms as she lay in the dirt, quivering with fear.

“Hey,” Ruby said as she put Crescent Rose away and knelt down on the ground next to the frightened girl. “It’s okay. They’re all gone now. Sunset took care of them.”

The girl shivered. “Yona scared.”

“I know,” Ruby said, placing a hand upon the girl’s shoulder. “I know that the grimm can be scary, but that’s why we’re here: to take care of the monsters so that people like you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

The girl looked up at Ruby. She was a yak faunus, broadly built with light brown skin and long, thick chocolate brown hair worn in braids. Her eyes were a dark green, like pine needles. A pair of horns emerged from out of her thick head of hair. She was dressed in comfortably fitting robes of earthy brown, but with a vivid turquoise poncho tied around her neck and hanging down her back. “Yona safe?”

Ruby nodded. “You’re safe with us, Yona. Is that your name?”

Yona nodded. “Yona is Yona, of the Frost Mountain Clan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Yona,” Ruby said. “I’m Ruby Rose, and this is my friend Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset waved. “Evening. Would you mind telling us what a girl your age is doing out here all by yourself?” This Yona looked to be… it was hard to say exactly, but Sunset would have put her age about thirteen, maybe. Definitely younger than Ruby had been when she and Sunset first met.

“Yona wasn’t all alone,” Yona replied, sniffing as she sat up. “Yona was out with forage group when monsters attack. Yona run… Yona hear…”

Ruby pulled her into an embrace. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. You don’t even have to think about it if you don’t want to. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You said you were part of a foraging party; is your village nearby?”

“Frost Mountain Clan not have village,” Yona said. “Frost Mountain Clan move all over the place, but right now have camp near here. Kind of near here. But what about Ruby and Sunset and others, what clan? What are new friends doing out here?”

“We’re travellers, on a journey east,” Sunset explained, without really explaining anything.

“But first, we’ll make sure to get you home to your people,” Ruby said.

“Seriously?” Sami muttered from the back of the group. “I thought we were on a mission.”

Sunset turned towards her, and in fact walked a little closer towards her. “Please tell me that I didn’t hear you suggest leaving a kid alone in the wilderness?”

“Going to the Frost Mountain camp is a mistake,” Sami declared.

“Why?” Sunset demanded. “They might be able to give us more recent directions to a port.”

“Things don’t change that quickly around here,” Sami replied.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s your real problem?” Sunset asked. “Heading to the camp might be a short detour, but we can resupply, get some rest.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack said.

“And Sunset’s right, we can’t just abandon a child to her fate,” declared Cardin.

Sami scowled. “I’m… I’m Fall Forest Clan, okay? We didn’t exactly… get along with our fellow tribes.”

“Considering what I’ve found out about your people, I can understand why,” Sunset muttered, “but you’re not one of them anymore; you’re a servant of the Kingdom of Vale who left her tribe behind, and Yona’s people will be smart enough to understand that.”

“They can’t even master personal pronouns, and you think they’re smart enough to get nuance?” Sami replied.

“We’re going,” Sunset said. “It’s the right thing to do, and we’re doing it.”

To put their own goals on hold for the sake of those in need, that was what it meant to be a huntress.

Frost Mountain Clan

Frost Mountain Clan

"So Ruby come from all way over mountains?" Yona asked as she walked across the barren heath, leading the party towards her camp. Sunset and Cardin led the way, so as not to put Yona up at the head of the column where she would be at risk from any ambush or grimm attack that they ran into, but she was close enough behind that she could shout directions to them if need be, while Ruby guarded Yona. Zwei ran at their heels or, as now, was scooped up into Yona's arms while she embraced him fiercely. The rest of the party trailed away behind, with Cinder bringing up the rear.

"Yep," Ruby agreed cheerfully. "Me and all my…" she stopped short of calling them 'friends.' "Me and everybody else have come all the way from Vale."

"Vale," Yona repeated. "Yona know what Vale is. Vale is reason Frost Mountain Clan never cross mountains, not since long, long time ago. Vale cage."

Ruby frowned. "Vale… you think Vale is a cage? Why? Vale's just a kingdom."

"Kingdom is cage," Yona replied. "That what Uncle Prince Rutherford say."

"'Prince Rutherford,'" Ruby repeated. "Is that the leader of your clan?"

Yona nodded eagerly. "Grandpa get too old to lead and chop, so grandpa step down, and Uncle Rutherford step up. Yona have to call Uncle Prince Rutherford now. Uncle Prince Rutherford still listen to Grandpa wisdom, but Uncle Prince Rutherford make all decisions."

"Yeah, that sounds like a leader," Ruby agreed. She grinned. "So, if your uncle is the prince, does that make you a princess?"

Yona sniffed. "What Ruby mean?"

"Uh," Ruby hesitated. "What do you mean what do I mean?"

"Smolder call Yona princess sometimes," Yona explained. "Smolder call Yona princess to make fun of Yona; Smolder mad because Yona whoop butt."

"Oh, really?"

Yona nodded eagerly. "This summer, Uncle Prince Rutherford promise to unlock Yona aura! Then teach Yona to fight with great-great-grandpa's great-great-grandpa's axe."

"That must be a really old axe," Ruby observed.

"Really old," Yona agreed. "Handle been replaced few times, and got new blade a few times too, but still same axe."

"Is it?" Ruby asked. "Is it really?"

Yona nodded. "Frost Mountain Clan know that nothing last forever – except spirit. Uncle Prince Rutherford give axe to Yona, and even though Uncle replace shaft, Uncle also held old shaft that great-grandpa touched, and great-grandpa also touched handle of his father even though he replace it too, and so on back to great-great grandpa's great-great grandpa."

"That… okay, yeah, that makes sense," Ruby accepted. "So, are you excited to start your training?"

"Yona ready to start chopping! Then Yona not need to be scared of beowolves and rescued by Ruby Rose. Ruby trained to chop?"

"Well, I don't exactly chop," Ruby said nonchalantly as she pulled out Crescent Rose. Her gorgeous weapon extended outwards, hissing and clicking and clanking as it went. "With me, it's more of a question of slice or shoot."

Yona's eyes went wide. "Woah," she gasped. "Yona never seen weapon like that before."

Ruby folded Crescent Rose back down into its carbine configuration once again. "I'm not too surprised; living outside the kingdoms like you do, I suppose there isn't anywhere that could make something like this."

"Yona not know," Yona replied. "Frost Mountain Clan not make weapon like that." She paused. "But Frost Mountain Clan weapons best anyway! Family axe not grow like tree, but axe have history, history give weight, weight makes good for chopping! That why Frost Mountain Clan the best!"

Ruby giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. "What's it like, living outside the kingdoms?"

"What it like for Ruby, living in cage?" Yona replied.

"Why do you keep calling Vale a cage?" Ruby responded. "Just because your uncle said so?"

"Uncle Prince Rutherford not just say, Uncle explain so when he say why Frost Mountain Clan not cross mountains," Yona declared. She looked down at Zwei, who had his tongue out and was panting happily as Yona tickled him under the chin. "It like this: Yona like dog, so Yona take dog. Dog belong to Yona now."

"What?" Ruby cried. "You… you can't just steal Zwei! Give him back! Give him back this instant!"

"Yona not mean it," Yona said, handing Zwei over to Ruby. He leapt into Ruby's arms with a bark and started licking at her face. "But in kingdom, stuff like that happen all the time. Always someone say 'this belong to me now, hand off.' Frost Mountain Clan have no home because Frost Mountain Clan understand that world belong to everyone. That why Frost Mountain Clan always move around. But in kingdom, everyone want to own everything, own pieces of world forever. Put people in cage, tell them what to do. Yona heard that in cages, folk even get told what they can and can't name children. In cage, Yona not be called Yona!" she looked horrified at the very thought.

"It's not a cage if it's for people's own protection," Ruby said. "Maybe it seems strange to you, but… but look at what happened to your friends, think about what would have happened to you if we hadn't been there? Don’t you have any huntsman with your clan?"

"Plenty of clan know how to fight," Yona said staunchly. "Also know how to do lots of other things."

"But that's what I'm saying," Ruby said. "I have trained for years to become a huntress, and that's all that I've trained to do, and I can do that because I never had to worry about finding food or a place to sleep because someone else always took care of that other stuff for me. That's what it means to be part of a kingdom: we don't need to know how to do lots of things, so we can learn how to do one thing really well. And for me, that one thing is the thing that lets me keep everyone else safe."

Yona frowned. "If Ruby want to keep Vale safe, then what Ruby doing out here on wrong side of mountains?"

"I…" Ruby hesitated, finding that it was a struggle to answer the question. "I… can't say, Yona," she said, not just because her mission was a kind of secret, but also because… to be honest, it felt kind of like running away to have abandoned Vale the way she had. Yes, those new scary grimm were after them, and it was probably better to be away from Vale so that the city didn't get attacked again – although the same argument applied to going anywhere near the Frost Mountain Clan, or anywhere or anyone else, didn't it? – but at the same time, she'd left her home in a mess, and for what? To find Professor Ozpin? Surely, he'd know what to do without them; he'd done this a whole bunch of times after all.

Of course, Ruby had to admit that she hadn't exactly been defending Vale before Sunset came and asked for her help in finding Ozpin.

"I… I feel as though I haven't really known what I'm doing for a while now."

Yona tugged at her braid with one hand. "What wrong, Ruby?"

Ruby didn't answer for a moment. "Yona, do you have any siblings?"

Yona grinned. "Yona big sister! Yona have little brother Calder and little sister Lydia! Does Ruby have brother or sister?"

"Ruby little sister," Ruby said with a smile. A smile that faded like the last gleam of twilight before the dark sets in. "Or at least I was. My big sister, Yang, died, and since then… since then, I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Ruby must have had reason to come here," Yona said. "Where Ruby going?"

"East," Ruby said. "We're trying to find a boat to take us to Anima. Do you know where that is?"

"That over the ocean, yes?" Yona said. "Grandpa tells stories from his grandpa about time when people come from over the ocean try to put us all in cages. But if Ruby want to go other way, Ruby should try Freeport."

"'Freeport'?" Ruby repeated. "What's Freeport?"

"Freeport big town next to ocean," Yona explained. "Freeport where Sun Queen lives."

"Sun Queen?" Ruby repeated.

Yona nodded and looked a little disgruntled. "Uncle Prince Rutherford say that Sun Queen wants to build cage like Vale over the mountains, but Freeport strong, and all towns and villages that want cage listen to her, so all clans got to listen too. But it not all bad: sometimes, Sun Queen calls Uncle Prince Rutherford and all the clans to Freeport so can talk to them, and that where Yona met Smolder. Smolder of Summer Fire Clan and Yona best friend! Ruby get boat in Freeport for sure."

"That's great to hear," Ruby cried. "Would your uncle be able to show us how to get there?"

Yona nodded. "Absolutely! Uncle Prince Rutherford show you way for sure."

Yona was not quiet, and Ruby's voice rose to match the volume of the younger girl, so as Sunset and Cardin led the way, they could hear everything that passed between the two. They marched across a barren heath, a blasted wasteland upon which grew scarce a bush, the kind of land that would have been awful to endure foul weather on but was fortunately only monotonous in the reasonable weather that they were enjoying at the moment. There was no sign of any grimm, and the ground was so flat and featureless they would have plenty of sight of them if any did appear, and so, there was not much to do while they walked but to listen to the chatter of the younger girls.

"I wonder what's up with her language?" Cardin said. He and Sunset, unlike Yona and Ruby, were talking quietly enough that they could not be overheard.

"It's not so surprising," Sunset said. "These people have been living cut off from contact with the kingdoms since pretty much the Great War. Of course they've developed a pidgin dialect. It's a miracle that we can understand her at all. You'd almost expect them to have their own language. Maybe they do, and Yona just knows that we can't speak it."

"I suppose," Cardin muttered. His mace rested upon his shoulder, swaying slightly as he walked. "You know… I can't help but think about things."

"You never seemed to have a problem not thinking about things before," Sunset snarked.

"Smartass," Cardin growled. "What are we doing?"

"You know exactly what we're doing," Sunset replied. "We're going to Mistral to-"

"To find the immortal Professor Ozpin," Cardin finished for her, speaking softly so that they would not be overheard. "And for what? Can't he find his own way to safety?"

"Not if he's a child," Sunset replied.

"If he's that young, what good will he be until he grows up?" Cardin asked.

"The enemy won't wait until he grows up," Sunset hissed. "That's why we need to find him and protect him."

"Why?" Cardin demanded. "You said it yourself: Salem can't be killed-"

"So we should just let her have her way?" Sunset said. "Give up?"

"Of course not."

"Then what?" Sunset growled. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe you and me and Ozpin too should stop worrying about the things that we can't do anything about and start worrying about the things that we can. Shadow wars and secret conspiracies... this isn't why I wanted to become a huntsman."

Sunset snorted. "I thought you wanted to become a huntsman to impress your girlfriend. Are you still going out with her?"

"Yes," Cardin said, in an affronted tone. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, there's the fact that you ditched her to go on a trip halfway round the world."

"I'll be back," Cardin said defensively. "It's not as though I'm going away forever. What me and Skystar have is strong enough to survive a few months apart."

"Uh-huh," Sunset said sceptically. She hesitated. "There's also the fact that her mother isn't First Councillor anymore."

Cardin glared balefully down at her. "I ought to smack you in the face with my Executioner."

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I supposed to have forgotten the fact that you were not exactly a paragon of virtue when we first met?"

"I didn’t put up with her faunus cousins because I wanted to suck up to her mother,” Cardin said. “I did that for her, because Skystar's family is important to her, and she's important to me."

"Cardin, you have improved a great deal as a person since we first met," Sunset said.

"But?"

"But I'll tell you now what I told you then: pretending that you weren't a racist tool was not as big of a sacrifice on your part as you're making it out to be," Sunset mocked.

"It might not have been a sacrifice, but that doesn't mean it was always easy," Cardin replied. He paused. "On a completely unrelated note, it's a damn shame that Novo Aris isn't First Councillor any more."

"Democracy is a system designed to let the people at the top bear the blame for the failures of those below them," Sunset observed. "Do you know what democracy is? Democracy is sacrificial kingship without the deaths."

"Sacrificial kingship?"

"You weren't paying attention during the ancient history portions of Oobleck's legends class, were you?" Sunset asked.

"Was anybody?"

"Yes," Sunset said firmly. "Sacrificial Kingship is… well, it's kingship, only whenever something bad happened to the village – a war was lost, or the crops failed – they killed the king as a sacrifice to appease the gods. Democracy is like that."

"Only you get voted out instead of sacrificed," Cardin mused, "an important distinction."

"Of course," Sunset agreed, "but my point is that, in a democracy, you can't preside over a terrorist attack, a grimm attack, a string of robberies, and a cancelled Vytal Festival and expect to keep your job. She had to resign, or she'd have been dragged out of office by a mob."

"All the same," Cardin said, "if she'd been allowed to stay on and manage the recovery, I think she would have made better choices than some that have been made in these past few months. She wouldn't have even considered recruiting out of the combat schools."

"What's she doing now?" Sunset asked.

"She's a Colonel in the Mount Aris Home Guard," Cardin said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "The former First Councillor is marching around with a carving knife tied to a broom handle?"

"The former First Councillor is sitting on a horse watching as other people march around with carving knives tied to broom handles," Cardin corrected her. "And plotting to get back into power, of course."

"Oh, of course," Sunset agreed. She hesitated. "So, what was your point?"

"Hmm?"

"You had a point before we got sidetracked into Skystar and her mother?" Sunset suggested.

"Yes," Cardin said. "The point is… this whole Ozpin versus Salem thing, is it worth it? We can't do anything about her; we ought to just focus on what we can do, like protecting Vale, protecting our homes, not running across the map trying to take care of the big picture, a picture that nobody can solve with the best will in the world."

"That would be fine if Salem was as willing to leave us alone as you're willing to leave her alone," Sunset replied. "But she's not. She's the one coming for us, she's the one who sent agents to Vale, who sent the grimm-"

"And I'm not suggesting that we let her have her way," Cardin interrupted. "When - if - she comes back to Vale, then we'll deal with whatever she sends. When she goes to Mistral, then Jaune and Pyrrha will deal with her. When she goes to Atlas, then it’ll be up to Weiss and Flash, and so on."

"Someone needs to be concerned with the big picture," Sunset argued.

"The big picture is nothing but a mosaic of little pictures," Cardin retorted.

"That doesn't mean that we can just pick one tile and hold onto it," Sunset declared sharply. "Otherwise, we'll end up with a bunch of people sitting on sandcastles while the tide comes in. Care for Vale, care for Mistral, care for Atlas, but someone has to care for the whole world, and that's why we need Professor Ozpin. That's why we need to get to Anima."

Cardin sighed. "Sure," he said. "You're probably right, but all the same… a part of me wishes that we could just help this girl and people like her."

Sunset thought about Ruby's plan and the answer that she had yet to receive from Twilight. Maybe you can, in another life.

“You know,” Jack said, “the kid may be kind of weird and talk funny, but she’s got a point.”

Sami snorted. “Really? What has she got a point about, exactly?”

“Owning stuff,” Jack said. He gestured with his shotgun axe at the desolate plain all around them. “I mean, what she said about some rich asshole coming and saying, ‘hey, I own this now!’ That’s exactly what happened to me and my Ma. We had a farm, we had land, and then suddenly, it got taken away from us because some guy had a piece of paper from some Council lawyer saying it belonged to him. What kind of sense does that make?” He paused, looking around. “I mean… this land isn’t great, but I’m sure there must be some good land around here somewhere. Land which no one owns. Land which no one is going to turn us out of. Land where I could build a house and plant some crops, some beans maybe, and-”

“And then get murdered?” Sami asked. She smirked. “Here’s what you haven’t thought through, Jack: there’s always a law, but if it’s not kingdom law, then it’s law of the jungle, and the asshole who wants your land isn’t going to show up with a piece of paper to take it; he’s going to show up with an axe to cut off your head.”

Jack pumped his shotgun. “He can try if he wants, and if he can take it, he’s welcome to my head and my land and everything else I own.” He bent down to pick up the unspent shell that he had just ejected in his posturing.

Sami’s smirk remained in place. “That’s brave of you, I admit. I think we ran across a few guys as brave as you… it never ended well for them. The kid may be making it sound like this place is a paradise for the individual, but it’s not. The reason why there are tribes like the Frost Mountain Clan and the Fall Forest Clan is that you have to stick together in a place like this, strength in numbers, you know. And the reason the people who aren’t part of the tribes live in walled towns and fortified mansions is that the clans will burn you out of your home and take everything you have otherwise.”

“Any tribe?” Jack replied incredulously. “That kid’s tribe? Come on, Sami, she’s like a cream bun.”

“Frost Mountain aren’t as tough as my old family used to be,” Sami admitted, “but they can handle themselves.”

“Which is why you don’t want to go back.”

“I don’t want to put my life in the hands of some queen and her peace,” Sami muttered.

“What are they going to do to you?”

Sami shrugged. “When I was a kid, we captured one of theirs,” she explained. “My father gave her the blood eagle.”

“The what?”

“You do not want to know,” Sami said, “but you might get to see it done to me if I’m unlucky. This is no paradise, Jack; this is a hard land with hard ways.”

“It’s better than the place where we’re convicted criminals,” Jack declared. “Better than the place where they want to get us killed in battle.”

Sami’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m saying there must be a chance to get away in a country as big and wild as this,” Jack hissed.

“And do what? Start a farm?”

“Maybe? Whatever we want? No Sunset or Cardin to give us orders.”

No power, Sami thought. Sure, they could try to run. They might even get away. But then what? A refugee from the Kingdom of Vale? An outcast from the Fall Forest Clan? They weren’t likely to make it very far, let alone amount to anything. They'd be dead by the time winter rolled around again, like as not.

But if they stuck with Sunset just a little longer… then she would lead Sami to the means not only to survive, but maybe even to thrive… to rule.

In place of a Sun Queen, they would have a… what could I call myself? Horned Queen? Fall Queen?

As long as I can call myself something, that will be fine by me.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Sami muttered. “And I’m not against it. But we need to wait. Bide our time a little.”

“'Bide our time'? But what about the whole ‘they’re going to kill me’ thing?”

“It’s a risk,” Sami acknowledged. But the prize is worth it.

Cinder trailed at the rear of the column, her glass bow in her hand. Even through her long black glove, she could feel the cool of it.

It was cold because the world was cold, or seemed so.

Cinder kept her eyes sharp, watching for any sign of grimm or bandits or… or anything else. It was hard to know what might rise up to trouble them in this land.

The world beyond the kingdoms had been of little interest to Cinder Fall: a barren land of little account, home to no one of any note or distinction, a place that would escape her wrath because it wasn't worth her time or her attention.

That seemed like something of an oversight now, she had to confess.

In between keeping watch for perils or enemies, Cinder's eyes flickered to Bon Bon, walking just ahead of her.

They were nothing alike. For one thing, Bon Bon was a complete incompetent who had bungled every task that Cinder had set for her, with the exception of the staggeringly simple 'watch fights and let me know if there is anyone I should be concerned about.' Cinder couldn't even credit her with bringing Sunset to her attention, because she almost certainly would have noticed Sunset anyway after Team SAPR's battle with the White Fang.

And yet, for all that there was no comparison between the two of them, they were alike in that they had both managed to reach out to one single person who didn't seem to mind the lies or the wicked intent behind them.

For all that, Bon Bon was perhaps the only person whom Cinder could talk to about what was on her mind.

She couldn't speak to Sunset about her uncertainties regarding her future; Sunset had committed herself to this fight, till death or the world's ending. In every generation, men would strive with Salem, and in this generation, that was the task that Sunset had taken upon herself. As an act of futile defiance, it was magnificent, but at the same time, it was not a path that Cinder had ever sought out for herself.

She had not pledged herself to the service of Ozpin. She had not volunteered to be one of his sacrifices. Cinder Fall had set off down a different road, a path to power and glory, and though she had turned aside from that alluring route, that didn't alter the fact that she had little desire to tread a path of daggers with only death and failure at the end of it.

The only thing tethering her to this desperate route was Sunset Shimmer. Sunset… and the fact that she had nowhere else to go.

This was something she couldn't talk about with Sunset. Sunset understood Cinder better than most, but in this matter, she was too brave, and too committed to the fight, to understand that Cinder might want something else.

If only she could work out what that something was.

If only she could decide whether she was allowed to want something else.

Which was something she could only discuss with Bon Bon.

And so, as much as the idea of lowering herself to converse with a former minion who had proven herself to be both treacherous and incompetent still mildly revolted her, Cinder cleared her throat. "Bon Bon," she said, in as sweet a voice as she could muster, "may I speak with you for a moment?"

Bon Bon's pace slowed a little. The plates of her armour ground as she turned to look at Cinder. Bon Bon's face was concealed beneath her helmet, but when she removed her helm, Cinder could see a look of surprise and narrow-eyed suspicion there.

Lyra had also slowed, but Bon Bon whispered something to her, and the other girl quickened her pace again, while Bon Bon dropped back to be closer to Cinder.

"What?" she demanded.

Cinder bristled. "Ruby can take that tone with me; you don't have the right. Unless you claim ineptitude makes up for the malignance of your intent."

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. "You're right," she admitted. "I'm not better than you are just because I escaped notice for longer."

"Indeed," Cinder murmured, "but I don't want to rehash what happened at Beacon."

"No?" Bon Bon said. "Then what do you want?"

Cinder hesitated. "I… I want to talk about the future," she said. "Have you ever considered a future away from this war and what it might hold for you?"

"Do we have a future away from this war?" Bon Bon asked. "Are we not bound to Vale and to her service? Or are you talking about getting back to simply defending Vale from threats to it?"

"No," Cinder replied. "I'm talking about… if you could walk away, free and unharried, where would you go? What would you do?"

Bon Bon's eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of trick?" she demanded. "Are you playing mind games so that you can find out whether I'm loyal or not?"

"No," Cinder declared.

"Then what are you up to?"

"I want to know," Cinder said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because the question has been on my mind," Cinder confessed, in a voice that was almost a whisper.

Bon Bon stared at her, regarding Cinder in amazement. "Do you think… do you really think they'll let you go?" she asked. "After what you've done? Do you really think that there is any way in which you're not in this for life?"

Cinder regarded Bon Bon coldly. "Is this a form of gloating?"

"I don't expect to get out of this either," Bon Bon explained, "and I've done much less than you."

Cinder was silent for a moment. "Perhaps you're right," she conceded. "Perhaps there is no escape for either of us, but all the same…"

Bon Bon waited for her to continue. "'All the same'… what?"

Cinder hesitated. "How did you get involved in all of this? How did you find your way into the service of Salem?"

Bon Bon glanced down at the blasted ground beneath their feet. "I… I had seizures when I was a child," she explained. "Doctor Watts was already a prestigious… everything, and he agreed to take on my case. And he cured me. I couldn't tell you how he did it, but he was able to do what no other doctor in Atlas could and give me a normal life."

"And you felt so obliged to repay him that you committed yourself to struggling on the side of darkness?" Cinder asked archly.

"It wasn't like that at first," Bon Bon declared. "We kept in touch: at first, I had to go back and see him every so often for check-ups, so that he could monitor my progress and check that my seizures weren't coming back. He asked me to let him know how I was getting on, and I did. He answered back, and he seemed so wise, so worldly, I suppose I was flattered by his interest. And the things he said, they seemed to make so much sense: when he talked about the corruption of the kingdoms, about the way that merit was being kept down by conservative vested interests, about the way that only a revolution would let us build something better in its place… it was hard not to believe in him. It wasn't like he ever talked about the cost of such a revolution."

"At some point, you must have realised that it would all come down to bloodshed in the end," Cinder murmured.

"Not until I was given to you," Bon Bon said.

Cinder nodded. "No," she conceded, her tone melancholy. "I was not as good at hiding my intentions as Watts. And yet even then, you endeavoured to serve me." She smirked. "Or was your incompetence part of a secret plan to sabotage my efforts?"

"I don't think you'd believe that if I tried to pretend it was true," Bon Bon said. "The truth is that… what you wanted wasn't that different from the things that Doctor Watts had asked me for: to give him my opinions on Rainbow Dash and her friends, what was she capable of, that sort of thing. You wanted that, but with Pyrrha and the others. I tried to focus on that and ignore what you were planning to do with it, just like I never asked Doctor Watts why he was so interested in Rainbow Dash. I suppose it must have been because she was friends with General Ironwood."

"It probably intrigued him," Cinder agreed, "or made him envious. Did you ever consider walking away? Turning towards the light?"

"What would have been the point? So I could die alongside everyone else?" Bon Bon asked. "I might not have liked it, but I knew that I'd be safer on the winning team, and I thought… I thought I could keep Lyra safe that way, too."

So you were a coward rather than malicious, Cinder thought. "So, to return to my original question, if you could walk away from it all with no consequence, would you? And what would you do after?"

"It would depend on Lyra," Bon Bon said at once. "I… I'm a better person when I'm with her, and so I'd follow where she led. But if it were up to me, then I would… a little village sounds nice. Somewhere outside the kingdoms, the sort of place where your past is private and nobody asks about your story. Somewhere we could start over, where Lyra and Bon Bon could be… whoever we wanted to be."

"And who is that? Cinder pressed. "Who does Bon Bon want to be?"

"I… I don't know," Bon Bon admitted.

"No," Cinder murmured. "Neither do I. I don't know what I would do if I were not engaged in this battle, one way or another." She wasn't about to tell Bon Bon about the sewing.

"Pinkie told me once that I had a talent for making sweets," Bon Bon said, "but I'm not sure how much call there is for that outside the kingdoms."

Cinder said, "I think if we did the thing that is most useful to the world, then we both remain… huntresses, or whatever we are now. If we were to please ourselves instead… but do we have the right, after everything we've done?"

"The right?" Bon Bon asked.

"To find out who we really are?"

The Frost Mountain Clan were camped upon the edge of a thick wood, where tall pine trees rose out of the ground like spearpoints jabbing upwards at the sky. The outer limit of the camp was marked by a kraal of wagons, circled and joined together in crude approximation of the walls of a town, whilst within the circle, primitive hide tents had been erected, and myriad fires burned upon the grass like a mirror of the stars that gleamed so brightly up above. Oxen, mules, and sturdy draught horses grazed within the safety of the wagon circle, and the lowing of the cattle could be heard through the darkness as the group made their final approach. An outer ring of fires, well placed, burned beyond the safety of the wagon barricade, offering sight of any grimm or other menace that might seek to approach from out of the darkness.

As they beheld the camp, cresting a low ridge so that they were looking down upon the Frost Mountain Clan and all their flickering fires, Yona let out a squeal of delight and broke into a run, sprinting down the ridge towards the camp. The others had no choice but to run too or risk being left behind and losing, with the girl, their only reliable way into the camp of the clan.

"Mama! Papa! Uncle!" Yona cried as she ran, with Ruby and Sunset and all the rest in hot pursuit. "Yona back!"

"Yona?" the voice that answered Yona's cry was deep, and strong, and as the Valish party approached the outer ring of watchfires, they could see, striding out of the safety of the kraal, the man – or rather yak faunus - to whom that voice belonged. He was a mighty man, as tall as an ancient oak and as broad in the shoulder as a stout stone wall, with arms as thick as tree trunks and corded about with muscle. His hands were the size of hams, and it seemed to Cinder that he could have snapped any one of them in half without even trying. His arms glittered with rings of gold, and more golden bands adorned his wide yak horns, and even his beard of reddish brown was bound up at the base with a thick gold ring. All his finery glittered in the light of the many fires that burned around him. He was swathed in furs and wore a shirt of mail beneath, with a great axe thrust into his belt.

"Yona!" he cried again, as Yona ran into the firelight, and he picked her up in his immense arms and lifted her into the air, embracing her tight as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Brother!" he bellowed. "Sister-wife! Yona returned!" He set Yona down upon the ground. "How Yona come back, and where are rest who set out with you?" By this point, Sunset's party had begun to enter view, passing into the area illuminated by the watch-fires. "And who are these?"

"They saved Yona from grimm," Yona replied. "All others… grimm take them."

The giant of a man closed his eyes for a moment as a look of distress crossed chiselled features. "We meet again in the last camp," he declared. "Thank the gods that Yona safe.” He ruffled her hair with one hand that was almost as large as her head. "Is it true? Did strangers save Yona, brother-daughter?"

Sunset took a step forward. "We did," she said. "It was our-"

She didn't get the chance to say anything else as the big man swept her up into a bone-crushing hug, squeezing her between his mighty arms as though he meant to snap her back. "Welcome!" he cried. "Welcome, friends, to Frost Mountain Clan! Rutherford is Rutherford, Prince of Frost Mountain Clan. Come, into circle, come!"

He put Sunset down; she swayed unsteadily upon her feet, so that Cinder had to take her arm to help her stay upright.

"You okay?" Cinder asked.

"I'll be fine," Sunset gasped. "Just… not right now."

Two other members of the clan had rushed out of the circle, presumably Yona's parents by the way they rushed to embrace her in their arms. They were both big, if neither quite as big as Prince Rutherford, and like him, their arms and horns and the beard of the man were all adorned with gold: rings in the shape of a serpent eating its own tail or adorned with the patterns of willow leaves or with writing in ancient runes etched into it.

"Come," Prince Rutherford said again as Yona's parents – and Yona herself – led the way into the safety of the kraal. Cinder heard the screams of delight as two small children – clearly the younger siblings she had spoken of – rushed to Yona's side. They were so small that Yona could lift them up, each one clinging to an arm of hers, where they dangled off the ground with their feet kicking in the air.

Rutherford led the others in after, and as they strode into the kraal, Cinder could see that most of the clan were yak faunus, although there were a few humans scattered here and there. Gold decorations were much in evidence - though not quite in such great quantities as on the prince, his brother, and his sister-in-law - along with furs. Some wore helmets that had been specially fashioned to permit their horns to jut out on either side, while some wore mail and swords or axes at their belts. Many had painted their horns, some in gold, others in crimson, blue, or green; even more of them had tattooed their faces with patterns of raven wings or boars' heads or flames that seemed to dance upon their cheeks. Their cloaks or beards or hair were adorned with bells that jingled as they turned to regard the newcomers.

Their looks were wary, and in some cases suspicious, but only when Sami came into view did some of the looks grow outright hostile.

Prince Rutherford's voice boomed across the camp. "Foraging party slain by grimm. Ratherhelm, Einarr, Jordis, Rutherford grieve with you for those you have lost. But Rutherford also rejoice for return of Yona, brother-daughter, rescued from grimm by these strangers. For this, they guests of Rutherford and of Frost Mountain Clan. Blood must have blood, but life must have life." He waited, as if he were daring anyone to object to what he said. No one spoke up, although a few people stalked away from Sami in disgust.

Prince Rutherford said, "Under Sun Queen, there peace between Frost Mountain Clan and Fall Forest Clan, but would not have Fall Forest guest if had not saved brother-daughter."

"Sami has left her clan," Sunset said. "Though she bears the markings, she is no longer of the Fall Forest Clan but is rather one of us."

"One of you?" Prince Rutherford said. "But who are you? What bring strangers here?"

"That," Sunset said, "is a tale perhaps best told around a warm fire."

Prince Rutherford laughed. "Indeed!" he agreed. "It shall be so! Let bread and ale be brought, make space round fire. What is name?"

"Sunset Shimmer." Sunset gave a slight bow.

"Sunset lead company?"

Sunset nodded. "I do."

"Then come," Rutherford instructed.

Sunset murmured, "Cinder, Ruby, with me." She turned to face the rest of them, "Sami, all things considered, probably best if you stay out of trouble. Cardin, keep the rest of them in line."

"Sure," Sami muttered.

"All that worrying, and you didn't mention there was a peace treaty," Jack said.

"I didn't know there was a peace treaty," Sami replied. "I don't know who this Sun Queen is, but she's good if she can get my clan to stop trying to kill everyone."

"What are you going to tell them?" Cardin asked.

"As much as I can," Sunset said, "and as little as I must."

She turned and led Ruby and Cinder after Prince Rutherford to a great fire around which already sat an old man and woman; her hair had been turned white with the years, while his hair and braided beard alike were grey. Yona sat in front of the old woman, who ran her wrinkled hands through the young girl's hair.

Prince Rutherford sat upon a log and gestured with one mighty hand for the others to do likewise. Bread and dripping meat sat upon wooden trays, while drinking horns and flagons of ale sat nearby.

"Eat, drink," Prince Rutherford said, gesturing to food and drink alike. "And tell Rutherford Sunset's story. What bring Sunset to Frost Mountain Clan?"

"First," Sunset said, "allow me to introduce my companions, Ruby Rose and Cinder Fall."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Ruby said.

Prince Rutherford nodded. "Father is Ragnwald, Mother is Athelwyn."

"An honour to meet you both," Sunset murmured. She filled a horn with ale and offered it to Cinder, who accepted, before pouring another for herself. She drank and seemed surprised by the taste. "We have come from the Kingdom of Vale; we travel east, hoping to find a ship to bring us across the ocean to Anima."

Prince Rutherford said, "There no boats left in Kingdom of Vale?"

"Boats there may be, though fewer now than once there were," Sunset acknowledged, "but we are on an errand of secrecy and did not wish our movements to be widely known."

"Yona said that we might find a boat in a place called Freeport?" Ruby asked before she picked up a chicken leg and started chewing on it.

Prince Rutherford nodded. "Boat you find in Freeport, if Sun Queen let you leave."

"Is there any reason why she would not?" Cinder asked silkily. She drank from her ale and was surprised by how sweet it tasted on her tongue.

"Hard to say what Sun Queen do or not do," Prince Rutherford replied. "Sun Queen want control. Control clans, control towns, control land; Sun Queen say that Sun Queen make real kingdom. Frost Mountain Clan not want real kingdom, that why Frost Mountain Clan live here."

"You don't want to be put in a cage," Ruby murmured.

"You talk to Yona," Prince Rutherford observed.

"She threatened to steal my dog to prove her point," Ruby said.

"Yona only pretending," Yona protested.

Prince Rutherford chuckled. "Sun Queen come over mountains, like Sunset and Ruby and Cinder and others. Sun Queen not know our ways."

"Sun Queen came to rule," said old Ragnwald, with a suspicious glance at Sunset.

"We are not here to rule," Sunset assured him. "We seek only a way across the ocean."

"Why?" Prince Rutherford asked.

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Because someone I let down grievously before requires my aid, and I cannot deny him. On top of which, others of our friends are also across the sea, and we hope at some point to be reunited."

"That not all," the old woman Athelwyn declared.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Grandma have Sight!" Yona declared.

"Yona speak true," Prince Rutherford agreed. "Mother see much."

"And far," Ragnwald said. "See much that hidden."

"See darkness in Sunset Shimmer," Athelwyn declared. "But see light, too."

Sunset looked down. She shook her head sadly. "I reflect the light of others; I have none in myself."

"Yet light Athelwyn see, and darkness," Athelwyn said. "See great battle, and Sunset Shimmer in middle of it."

"What battle?" Prince Rutherford demanded.

"The battle between life and death," Cinder murmured. "The eternal battle, the only battle that has ever waged throughout time." She paused. "Old woman," she said, "will you tell me what you see when you look at me?"

Athelwyn turned her sharp, green-eyed gaze on Cinder. "Athelwyn see beauty in Cinder Fall," she said.

Cinder frowned. If this old woman can so easily see beauty in me, then why can I see none of it in myself?

"And in Ruby Rose, see…" She trailed off.

Ruby leaned forward. "What? What is it?"

"In Ruby Rose, Athelwyn see death," Athelwyn declared.

"Whose death?" Sunset demanded. "Ruby's? I won't let that happen."

"More, Athelwyn cannot say," Athelwyn said.

"'Cannot'?" Sunset said. "Or will not?"

"Gods move through these," Athelwyn said, ignoring Sunset now and speaking to her son. "Fate hang like clouds above shoulders. Frost Mountain Clan must take Sunset and Ruby and others to Freeport."

"Or else what, Mother?" Prince Rutherford asked.

Athelwyn shook her head. "Frost Mountain Clan must take visitors to Freeport."

Prince Rutherford nodded glumly. "Prince Rutherford not wish to set foot within a mile of Freeport, but Prince Rutherford know better than to disobey the gods... or mother." He smiled wryly. "And life must have life. Very well, Frost Mountain Clan will escort strangers to Freeport in morning. Tonight: eat, drink, rest. Freeport awaits us all."

The Road to Freeport

The Road to Freeport

"There we were," Ruby said, her voice a little more than a whisper. She could barely be heard above the crackling of the nearby fire that flickered upon her pale face. "In the middle of the night, surrounded by beowolves!" They had been ursai in Nora's story, but Ren had said that they were actually beowolves, and Ruby thought that beowolves were a little scarier than the slow, rather lumbering ursai in any case.

Calder and Lydia, Yona's little brother and sister, gasped in horror. Their eyes were wide, and their mouths were even wider as they gaped up at Ruby.

They looked so young. So young and so small, ironic as that might seem coming from Ruby Rose. Had she ever been that small? Had she ever been that young? Yes, she had been; Yang had made sure that she could stay that young, at least for a little while.

Thinking of Yang reminded Ruby of something that her sister had used to do, not before bedtime but during the day, sometimes abandoning a story mid-flow. Ruby curled her hands into makeshift claws and growled down at the young Yak faunus. "Grrrr."

Lydia and Calder gasped again, clutching at one another as they recoiled away from her.

"Grrrrr!" Ruby repeated, swinging her head from one to the other, baring her teeth as she snarled at each of them in turn. "Grrrr! Raaar!" she yelled as she leapt to her feet and lunged at them.

The two children screamed in terror as they took to their heels, arms flying out on either side of them as they fled through the camp. They fled, and Ruby pursued them, her arms raised over her head, her hands making claws like a beowolf, growling and snarling as she ran – when she wasn't giggling. The children were laughing as they fled, and it seemed that the whole camp of the Frost Mountain Clan was ringing with laughter to watch their antics.

"I'm going to get you!" Ruby cried as she chased them, but slowly, slowly enough that they could keep away from her. Using her semblance – or even just running as fast as she could – would have been beside the point. Yang could have caught Ruby easily every time they played, but she didn't; she let Ruby get away so that she could keep chasing her up and down the garden. Only when the chase had gone on for a while and Ruby was getting tired would Yang the Big Bad Beowolf catch her and tickle her until she screamed. Sometimes, Dad would sit on the porch and watch their antics and chuckle at them, the way that so many of the Frost Mountain Clan were laughing now.

Lydia yelled, "Yona, help!"

Yona hit Ruby with a flying tackle that knocked her off her feet and bore her to the ground with Yona's weight on top of her. "Yona save day!" Yona proclaimed, her eyes gleaming in the firelight.

Ruby laughed. "Oh no! A huntress!"

"Yona great warrior," Yona said, "but Yona need help finishing off monster!"

Lydia and Calder cheered as they rushed back to the prone and pinned Ruby, piling onto her as she laughed, harder than she had in months, maybe longer. Harder, maybe, than she'd laughed since she was a child herself. The laughter spilled out of Ruby as the children tickled her, and as she wrapped her arms around them, Ruby's mind drifted back to when she had been a child herself and at Yang's mercy.

It might have been nice to be the big sister. Maybe not bigger than Yang, but to have had little sisters like Yona and Lydia and maybe a little brother like Calder.

Ruby found that she could imagine it, so easily. She could imagine herself back home, maybe a few years younger than she was now, or maybe not. She could be Yona's age, or she could be herself. It was summer, and the world was covered in a warming, gentle golden haze. A smell of apple pie wafted out of the open kitchen window.

It was summer, and the sky was golden and the world was full of promise. It would be the Vytal Festival soon, and everyone would be going to Vale to see the fairgrounds and the parades, and Ruby would be fighting in the tournament with her team. But for now, it was summer, and she was home and playing with her sisters. One of them had her eyes, the eyes she shared with Mom, but the other had Dad's blue eyes, and her hair was a blonde so pale that it was almost white.

"Yang!" Ruby cried as they clambered all over her. "Help me!"

Yang laughed at her predicament, watching as the three of them rolled around on the ground. "Nah, you got this, sis," she said. "I believe in you."

"Thanks a lot," Ruby muttered.

There was a flash of white as the door opened, a white cape swirling in the gentle breeze, a white cape that seemed to give off light, or at least reflect the summer sunshine.

"Dinner's ready," Mom declared. "Eden, Alba, stop playing with Ruby and come wash up."

The two younger children showed no inclination to take any notice.

Summer shook her head. "Yang."

"You got it, Mom," Yang said, striding over and effortlessly grabbing the younger girls, wrapping her arms around their waists as she lifted them, kicking and screaming into the air. "Come on, you little terrors, let's go."

Ruby picked herself up and dusted herself off. "I had that," she declared.

"Sure you did, sis," Yang said, with amusement in her voice.

Mom smiled at them, such a fond smile, and as warm as the sunshine. She waited for them at the door as Yang put down their little sisters and let them run inside. Inside to where Dad was sitting in a spindly wooden rocking chair, rocking back and forth as he fed their little brother out of a bottle.

"Ruby?" Yona asked. "Why crying?"

Ruby blinked. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks, the tears that she hadn't noticed because she'd been so caught up in her fantasy of the life that could have been.

The life that should have been.

The life that had been stolen from her and Dad. For a moment, Ruby was filled with a sudden anger, a flame burning inside of her, a fury more savage than any beowolf possessed at all that had been stolen from them: Mom, Yang, the promise of a future filled with love and happiness. Anger at Salem, at Sunset… at the whole world that was so cruel to dreams.

But then, the anger burned itself out as swiftly as it had sprung up inside of her, leaving behind only the ashes of sorrow within and the tears streaming down her face.

Ruby smiled, in spite of her tears. "Don't lose one another, okay, Yona? You have to hold on to what's important, because if you don't… it might not be there anymore."

"Yona understand," Yona said, as she laid her head on Ruby's chest and wrapped her arms around her. "It okay for Ruby to cry."

Ruby held all three faunus siblings a little tighter as the tears kept falling.

Sunset leaned against a tree, one that had sprung up a little way from the rest of the wood, a tree that grew within the boundaries of the Frost Mountain camp. Sunset leaned against that tree, her arms folded, and listened as Ruby's exuberant laughter turned to sobs of loss.

Sunset closed her eyes and asked forgiveness of any power that might grant it to her.

I'm so sorry, Ruby.

"What trouble, Sunset Shimmer?"

Sunset opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder to see that Prince Rutherford had stolen upon her. "You are stealthier than you look, my prince."

"And Sunset Shimmer unhappier than would let others know," Prince Rutherford said.

Sunset snorted. "I think that my unhappiness is fairly well known amongst this company. But… I am a leader, of sorts, and I wouldn’t force it upon others, not when they enjoy the excellent hospitality of your camp."

"Leadership can be lonesome," Prince Rutherford agreed. "Except for other leaders."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I… I have not heard Ruby laugh like that in quite some time," she said softly. "It is sad, if not surprising, that it ended all too soon."

"Sunset care about Ruby more than rest of Sunset's companions," Prince Rutherford observed.

"There are some in this company I hold dear, and others… as terrible as it is, there are others whose passing would grieve me little," Sunset admitted, "save that they would stand as testament to my failures. As for Ruby… she is the sister that I never had. I… love her, and for a time, I believe that she loved me, too."

"But not now?" Prince Rutherford asked.

Sunset shook her head. "Not now," she agreed. "I… I ruined it. I did something that she could not forgive, and still less can she forgive me for the consequences that flowed from the act. How can she love me as a sister when I got her actual sister killed?"

Prince Rutherford contemplated for a moment and said, "Hard for any leader to bear loss, but harder for those close to one you lost. Sunset and Ruby saved Yona, but what of others Sunset and Ruby did not save? Small comfort that they feast with gods. Families may hate Rutherford, but Rutherford not be sad or angry. That what it mean to be leader."

"I take your point, but fear I cannot take your advice," Sunset murmured. "If I cease to regret my actions, if I cease to regret what I have lost in consequence of my actions… then I will be truly lost." She paused for a moment. "You know, my prince, somehow, I can't see us getting an early start on the road to Freeport tomorrow."

Prince Rutherford let out a rich, booming laugh. "No, Sunset Shimmer, much to sleep off in morning. Come! Have ale with Rutherford. Frost Mountain Clan teach Sunset to drink deep ere Frost Mountain Clain get to Freeport."

Sunset chuckled. "I would rather have information than an ale. What is this Freeport, and what of this Sun Queen who rules from it? Has she no name?"

"No name that Rutherford know," he replied. "Nor other chiefs of clans who come to Freeport and bend knee to Sun Queen. No face either. Sun Queen hide face behind mask in council or send out Dawn to speak with clans with Sun Queen voice." He paused and glanced over his shoulder suspiciously. "People say Sun Queen sorceress. Folk say Sun Queen go about wearing many guises, say Sun Queen travels land and spies on clans and towns and steadings."

"She wouldn't need to wear many guises to do that if nobody knows what she looks like," Sunset replied. Which made it all the more plausible that she could do as described, if she wished to keep an eye upon her sometimes reluctant and recalcitrant subjects. "Does she… appear to know your plans? Or what is being said amongst your people?"

Prince Rutherford nodded gloomily. "It said amongst clans and villages. Sun Queen is sorceress."

The Sun Queen is a sneak, more like. "What makes you say that she's a sorceress?"

"They say it," Rutherford informed her. "Say Sun Queen has old blood, has power. Rutherford not seen such, only heard Sun Queen talk and scheme, but it said about her."

Rumour then, and wild accusation. There is no magic in the world that is not Equestrian in origin, save only the Maidens, and she is not a Maiden. Sunset was reasonably sure of that; Pyrrha was the Fall Maiden, the Spring Maiden was missing but somewhere in Anima with the Branwen tribe, and Professor Ozpin had seemed confident in the whereabouts of Summer and Winter. Unless the Sun Queen was, like Sunset, another wanderer from Equestria who had found their way here to Remnant.

Something to ask Twilight about.

"Is she a good queen?" Sunset asked.

"Sun Queen is queen," Prince Rutherford replied. "Would make land kingdom, like cage on other side of mountains. Sun Queen say she make us strong, make us organised, but Rutherford know that Frost Mountain Clan have lived for generations without kingdom or organising. Sun Queen say she rule for our own good, but Rutherford…" – he looked around, as if he was afraid the Sun Queen was nearby, listening to his every word – "Rutherford say Sun Queen wish to rule so Sun Queen can call herself Sun Queen and rule over clan and town and hall."

"The two are not mutually exclusive," Sunset observed. "Will she help us, do you think?"

"That, Rutherford not know," Prince Rutherford said. "But fates say Sunset must go to Freeport with friends, so Sunset must hope that fates are on Sunset's side."

"I do hope that, constantly," Sunset replied. I hope that as much as I hope for forgiveness. "Thank you, Prince Rutherford; that's been very helpful."

Prince Rutherford inclined his head. "And now," he prodded, "the ale?"

Sunset grinned. "Why not?" she replied. "And now the ale."

Prince Rutherford brought Sunset to a large fire, where a great crowd of clansfolk were already gathered. Cardin was there, looking a little ruddy-faced already, trying to arm wrestle a yak faunus who looked twice his size. When he was defeated, Cardin drained his wooden tankard of ale – his opponent did likewise – and yelled 'again!' to the great cheers of all those watching.

"Here," Prince Rutherford handed her a mug of ale. "Skol!"

"Mud in your eye," Sunset muttered as she drank, and so did he. The ale was sweet upon her tongue and felt light in her head.

It was hard to say much about what happened next, other than that there was ale.

The only thing that Sunset really remembered was Taiyang Xiao Long putting her to bed at the end of the night; Sunset caught a glimpse of Ruby looking at her, watching her, seeming amused at her predicament and a little concerned, before she went out like a light and knew no more.

Sami watched Torchwick.

She, as befitting someone who might get blood-eagled if she looked at the wrong person the wrong way, was keeping her distance from the crowds, but the same could not be said of Roman Torchwick. He had found a group of young Frost Mountain men and joined them around their fire, where they had introduced him to the game of Bones, a gambling game played with carved animals bones, deer or reindeer or the like. Torchwick had apparently explained the civilised concept of strip poker to the tribesmen – with the result that he was losing more and more of his outfit by the moment as his luck went from bad to worse, until – with his exasperated familiar looking on – he was down to his hat and his underwear. He shivered a little in front of the fire, yet looked supremely unconcerned as he downed his ale and called for another, apparently oblivious to the laughter of the young men all around him.

And then his luck turned.

Or rather, he actually started playing the game the way it was meant to be played, and before too long, he had won back not only all of his clothes but a horned helmet, a dagger with a whalebone handle, several gold arm rings, and a torc in the shape of a serpent which Torchwick placed around Neo's neck with a grin. He laughed as the girl pranced up and down with it on, striking several parodies of 'ladylike' posture before bowing decorously to the assembled company.

"How?" one of the members of the Frost Mountain clan demanded. "How Roman Torchwick luck turn so fast?"

"'Luck'? Luck had nothing to do with it," Torchwick said. "It's called a hustle, kids; maybe your parents will know what that means. But for me, I think I'll take my hard-earned winnings and enjoy an early night." He got up, swaying a little from the ale. "Thanks for the entertainment, fellas; come, Neo."

Neo had a smirk on her face as she took his hand and led him away to find a place to sleep.

How can anyone manage to hustle at a game they've genuinely never played before?

Note to self: never gamble with that guy.

Not that I've got anything to gamble with, right now.

Sami's hand went to the knife at her belt. It was very plain, little more than a glorified kitchen carving knife. She kind of wished she had that whalebone dagger; now that was a knife.

Sami's hand itched, badly enough to make her consider the possibility of slitting either Torchwick or Sunset's throats while they were sleeping – after all, there'd be no better time than when they were drunk, right? – but the chances of her getting past Neo were slight – that girl was tougher than she looked or Sami's antlers were made of rubber – and if she killed Sunset, well… she wouldn't count on living much longer by the time Cinder was through with her.

She would just have to wait. Bide her time. Have patience.

That didn't come easy for someone like her, but she could do it.

She just had to focus on the long game and the reward at the end of the road.

She felt Jack approaching from behind her. His face was a little red. "And you were worried this place would be dangerous," he said genially.

"They're softer than I expected," Sami admitted, "but there's a reason I'm keeping a low profile."

"I thought that was just because you were a buzzkill."

Sami looked over her shoulder to glare at him. "You heard what they said when they saw me: blood must have blood. You know what that means?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Jack replied. "An eye for an eye and all that stuff."

"Eye for eye, life for life," Sami agreed. "That's the way it is amongst the tribes. That's the way it is in this land you think is so great. Maybe the fact that Sunset saved the little kid's life would have bought an out for me in any case, but this Sun Queen… I want to meet her. I want to meet the person who can take tradition stretching back thousands of years and say 'no, blood must not have blood; we're doing things differently from now on.' I don't know who she is, but she must really be something to bend Frost Mountain and Fall Forest and all the tribes like that."

"I can't say I like the sound of it," Jack replied. "From what I hear, she's just making this place into another Vale, with all the same problems."

"It's just starting up."

"Well, that just means it will take them a little while, maybe," Jack said, "but mark my words, in a couple of generations, the grandkids of the people close to the Sun Queen will be strutting around like they're better than everyone else, like they're entitled to take what they want from the rest."

"Tribe chiefs already strut around like they're better than everyone else, so what's the difference?" Sami asked.

"The difference is… the difference is I'd rather have someone take what's mine because he can beat me in a fair fight than because he's got ancestors."

"You say that, but you wouldn't actually like it any better."

Jack snorted. "If you like Vale and hate this place so much, then why were you in jail? Why weren't you leading a perfect, law-abiding life?"

"Because I wasn't willing to be on the bottom," Sami told him sharply. "Not in my tribe, not in Vale. Sure, I killed people; I killed them because I could, because they had something I wanted. Because that's how I was raised out here. But I'm not going to pretend it makes me some perfect person."

Jack laughed. "But you won't stop, either?"

"Will you?" Sami asked.

Jack shrugged. "I could," he declared. "Once I get what I want."

Sami smirked. "Well, that's the thing, isn't it? What do we want?"

"Freedom," Jack said. "That's what I want. Nobody able to mess with me."

"That's not freedom; that's power."

"Not if I don't want to interfere with no one else," Jack insisted.

"Fine, sure, you want freedom."

"What about you?"

"What do I want?" Sami asked. "I… I guess I haven't figured it out yet," she admitted. "But I want the freedom to find out."

Cinder wiped a tear from her eye.

She wasn't even sure why she was crying. Truth to tell, she felt a little ashamed of it. She ought to have been above such things.

No, that was not right; at least, it was not a thing to be wished for. There had been a time when she had not cried, but that had been when she had been a little less than human. Sunset had saved her from that, restored her humanity, and with that restoration came a restoration of her ability to cry.

That said, Cinder was glad that there was no one she knew personally around to see the tear drip down her cheek before she wiped it away.

Cinder was sitting in a quieter part of the camp, away from the most raucus revelry, listening to the music of an instrument called – she had been told in a swift, hushed voice by a nearby woman – a yovidaphone. It looked like a bag with horns sticking out of it, and by all rights, it probably should have sounded absolutely ghastly. Strangely, however, it did not; rather, in the hands of the white-haired old woman playing it, the instrument had such a sweet but melancholy air that it was both a salve to Cinder's soul and a reminder of the emptiness that lay within. All around her, Cinder saw similar expressions upon the faces of the faunus and humans of the Frost Mountain Clan as they swayed back and forth gently to the heavy sound.

Cinder herself… though she had never heard anything quite like the yovidaphone before, the sound of it seemed to whisk her back to Argus and the days of her youth, when her father was incapable of acting but in her best interests and her mother's arms were strong enough to shelter her from all the cruelty of the world.

Cinder could stand it no longer. She could not sit here and listen to this sound that seemed to carry all the sorrow of her past within it. She got up and muttered her excuses as she pushed through the crowd, trying to get away from the sound that was both so lovely and so terrible to her.

She could hear Ruby laughing some distance away, but she did not particularly wish to go there either, nor did Ruby wish for Cinder's company, she was sure. Instead, she wandered around the edge of the wagon kraal until she came across Yona's aged grandmother, white-haired and wrinkled, sitting alone in front of a fire, darning a poncho.

"This hardly seems a place of honour for the wife of the former chief," Cinder observed.

Athelwyn looked up at her, her wrinkled mouth smiling. "But it quiet place for wife and mother and grandmother to finish sewing," she pointed out.

Cinder snorted. "Is that a courteous way of telling me to leave you be?"

"Cinder sit if Cinder wish," Athelwyn replied. "But Cinder not hover; it distracts Athelwyn."

"Very well," Cinder said softly, and she squatted down upon the ground by Athelwyn, watching the needle glinting in the firelight as the old woman brought it up and down, dragging the thread behind to close up the tear in the garment. "Is this a sign of your diminished status, or did you do this drudgery even when you were the princess of this tribe."

"'Princess'?" Athelwyn said. "Frost Mountain Clan not know princess. Athelwyn prince's wife. Now prince has no wife. But Athelwyn always sewn." She glanced at Cinder. "In great kingdom, does princess have handmaidens do sewing for her?"

Cinder laughed bitterly. "There are as few princesses who bear the name in Vale or any other kingdom as there are in the Frost Mountain Clan," she replied. "Although there are a few you might call 'princess.' In a similar vein, none of them have what you would call a handmaiden, still less a cluster of them, but… yes, they have others who would do such work."

"Then what work do they do?" Athelwyn asked.

"It depends," Cinder said. "Some fight, others do… little of anything."

"In Frost Mountain Clan, all must work, saving little children," Athelwyn declared. "Athelwyn too old to hunt or forage, and not enough to read the fates of passing strangers." She once more looked at Cinder with that aged smile upon her face. "Athelwyn must make Athelwyn useful, and this thing that Athelwyn can do for family."

The corner of Cinder's lip twitched ever so slightly. "My father used to darn my mother's socks," she said. "He could have just brought her new ones, but it was as if… as if he wanted to do something for her, even if it was a very small thing."

"What Cinder's mother do?"

"She was a warrior," Cinder said. "She soared through the sky in a machine made of steel and fought the grimm above the clouds."

"Cinder's mother be proud of Cinder Fall then; fight grimm on ground."

Cinder snorted. "No," she said at once, "my mother would not be proud of me. Not after what I have done." She fell silent for a moment, watching the needle rise and fall. "May… may I try it?"

Athelwyn raised one curious eyebrow. "Cinder wish to sew Rutherford's poncho?"

"I learnt from… I learnt in my father's house," Cinder said. "It has been… suggested to me that I should take it up again." She paused. "I have the strength to hunt, to fight," she admitted, "but I am… I do not know if I wish to do so. It is a smaller thing, but I would like to see if there is something else that I could do."

Athelwyn shook her head. "Are no big things or small things, only things to be done and willing heart to do them. Cinder's mother fought in sky, Cinder's father darned socks for Cinder's mother, but Athelwyn thinks that Cinder's mother glad of warm feet while Cinder's mother high up in sky, looking for grimm."

"I'm not sure that Sunset would agree," Cinder murmured, "but I can't live my entire life in Sunset's shadow. May I?"

"Athelwyn not mind resting Athelwyn's fingers," Athelwyn muttered as she handed the poncho, needle, and thread to Cinder.

Cinder hadn't done a great deal of sewing since she was a servant in the house of her stepmother. She hadn't done any sewing since the Beacon dance, when she had sewn herself a dress augmented with dust for her attack on the CCT. And yet, when she took the needle between her fingertips, it was as though her hand had been rendered complete. A part of her fingers that had been missing for so long had been restored to her.

A sense of peace stole over her as she set to work repairing the tear in the poncho.

The Frost Mountain Clan set off by about noon the next day, when most of its members – and guests – were fit to walk and only a few, thankfully not including Sunset, were still in such a state that they had to be put in the wagons with the supplies and the children. They set off east, travelling along the edge of the wood, with their carts and animals forming a great column in the centre and warriors ranging on either side for protection from any sudden emergence of grimm or bandits.

This land had once been part of the Kingdom of Vale, for all the kingdom's claim upon it had been novel and tenuous. The Empire of Mistral, too, had laid claim to it. The Great War had been fought over this land, had been fought through this land; at one time, great Mistralian armies had marched westward from the sea towards the mountains. Yet what remained of any of that? There was no road to follow, not even the remnants of one; the Frost Mountain Clan did not travel along what endured of a great road that Vale or Mistral had driven through the wilderness. Sunset saw no trace of the railways that the Mistralians and their Mantle allies had built to supply and reinforce their armies at the eastern front. Nature had reclaimed this land, and the few people who yet dwelt in it did so at nature's leave. Or so it seemed to Sunset as she walked along, part of a nomadic host traversing a desolate landscape, more fit for kings to go mad on than for sensible people to try and live in. The woods might offer some sustenance, but they also offered so much cover to the grimm it was a minor marvel that none of the foraging parties sent into the trees encountered them.

Ruby seemed to feel it too. She walked by the side of the wagon containing Yona and her younger siblings, and as she walked, she told them stories about Vale and about the things they had across the mountains that seemed like such wonders to the young faunus girl.

Sunset stayed close and listened. Ruby seemed more animated talking to Yona than she had… since the Battle of Vale, in all honesty. Yona – and the little ones – seemed able to distract Ruby from her loss in ways that Sunset could not. Just listening to her talk about airships and trains, explaining how tens, hundreds of people were able to be carried faster than the swiftest horse – or even through the sky itself – brought a slight smile to Sunset's face. A regretful smile that she had not been able to effect this transformation in Ruby, but a smile nonetheless.

And then Ruby got caught up in describing the mechanics of how trains and airships worked, completely losing Yona, let alone the younger kids, and that brought a different kind of smile to Sunset's face.

But the moment there was the slightest stirring from the woods, Ruby would turn that way with a snap, Crescent Rose unfolding, finger upon the trigger, instantly alert to the dangers posed by this land.

After a few days' travel, they entered land that was a little more liveable, or perhaps it would be fairer to say that it was more suitable for settled living, of the kind that the Frost Mountain Clan affected to despise. And yet, when Sunset questioned Yona gently upon the subject, she admitted with a red face that the clan did, indeed, trade with the towns and villages for goods and crops, bartering with the furs and skins and the animals that the clan's hunters slew on their expeditions into the deep, dark forests like the ones that they had just left behind.

And so it was that they arrived at Windstad Manor, a small, stout steading consisting of a great hall with a thatched roof and three high towers rising above it, from which a man might watch the stars, contemplate the mystery of things, or keep watch for approaching danger from three of the cardinal directions. The entire estate was surrounded by a wooden palisade and a ditch, which would have provided no obstacle to huntsmen and precious little to grimm, but would serve to deter aura-less and opportunistic bandits. Cows and sheep and chickens could be heard upon the other side of the palisade, hidden behind the wooden wall. The gates were shut, and before them were mounted the skulls of bears and wolves upon stout wooden poles with ancient runes Sunset could not read carved into the wood.

"Curses," Prince Rutherford explained to her. "On any who violate Beorn's steading."

"Who is this Beorn?" Sunset asked. "And why has he shut the gates in your face?"

"Beorn is wizard, or so Beorn say," Rutherford declared. "Beorn say he have old blood, but Rutherford not see magic."

"Are there a lot of people who claim to have the old blood in this part of the world?"

"More than have old blood," Prince Rutherford observed wryly. "Or got use from old blood at least."

Sunset smirked. "And what is the old blood, if you don't mind me asking?"

Prince Rutherford looked at her strangely. "Sunset not know what old blood is?"

Sunset shrugged. "There is none left in Vale, or if there is, no one talks about it."

Prince Rutherford nodded. "Old blood," he began, "old blood is old. Many stories. Men make gods angry. Gods decide to kill men. Some men hide, survive gods. That is old blood."

Sunset frowned. "Then... are not all men old blood?"

"Rutherford not know," Rutherford admitted. "Sunset need ask someone wiser than Rutherford, knows more stories."

"I see," Sunset murmured. Probably all nonsense anyway. Professor Ozpin never mentioned any of this. "So… to go back a little… why are the gates closed?"

"Because Beorn have only few people in steading," Rutherford explained. "Family, steward, housecarls. Beorn afraid of size of Frost Mountain Clan. Will not open gates to any except Freeport Rangers."

"Who serve the Sun Queen, I presume?" Sunset asked.

Rutherford nodded. "Sun Queen soldiers. Ride out. Keep peace. Enforce Sun Queen's will. Collect Sun Queen's taxes. Sun Queen rule as far as Rangers ride."

"Makes sense," Sunset replied. "Makes more sense than why you decided to stop here when the master of the house has no intention of dealing with you."

Rutherford laughed. "Beorn shut gates because Beorn worried by strength of Frost Mountain Clan, but Rutherford wait until Rutherford's friend Beorn remember that Rutherford is good friend and that Beorn have nothing to fear from Rutherford and that Beorn not want to make Rutherford angry. When Beorn remember, Beorn will open Beorn's gates, and Beorn and Rutherford will trade for things before Frost Mountain Clan head on to Freeport."

"Uncle Prince Rutherford!" Yona cried as she ran towards them, Ruby effortlessly keeping pace beside her as they crossed the camp the Frost Mountain Clan were establishing beyond the walls of Windstad Manor. "Uncle Prince Rutherford, Rangers approaching."

Prince Rutherford's expression tensed, and he immediately headed towards the edge of the kraal that his clan was establishing, leaving Sunset, Ruby, and Yona behind. He did not tell them to follow, but they followed regardless, trailing after him for courtesy's sake, Ruby helping Yona – the only one of the four who had not unlocked her aura – along so that she did not fall too far behind.

They reached the burgeoning, nascent wagon circle, and out beyond on the untended moor land, Sunset could see what must surely be the Rangers: twenty horsemen, swathed in furs and clad in leather and metal plates, some of which looked like armour and other of which looked as though they had been looted from a junkyard. Their horses were similarly armoured in such patchwork plates, and they were led by a dark-haired woman in a yellow cloak that streamed out behind her as she rode along.

As the riders approached, Sunset could see that they were armed with a mixture of blades – some seeming very crude and others more professionally forged – bows, crossbows, and antique guns from the great war or thereabouts.

The riders halted about twenty feet away from the kraal of the Frost Mountain Clan. Their leader, the young woman in the yellow cape, rode forward a few more paces. "Rutherford of the Frost Mountain Clan," she called. "We did not think to find you so far east this time of year."

"Rutherford not think to be headed to Freeport this time of year," he replied, "but Rutherford know Rutherford cannot escape Rutherford's destiny, no more than any man."

The girl in the yellow cape began to laugh, until she caught sight of Ruby and Sunset, standing beside Prince Rutherford, and the laughter died upon her lips.

Sunset didn't feel much like laughing herself. The woman in yellow had only one eye, the other being covered by a black patch, but the eye she did possess gleamed silver. Not grey, but silver, the same silver that shone so bright in Ruby's eyes. It was unmistakable.

Nor had Ruby's eyes escaped the notice of the other girl. "Rutherford, who is this girl?" she demanded.

"My name… my name is Ruby Rose," Ruby said tremulously. "I'm a guest of these people."

"Ruby speaks the truth, Sunsprite," Rutherford added. "Ruby and Sunset and their companions are guests of Frost Mountain Clan. Saved life of Brother-Daughter Yona."

Yona silently took Ruby by the hand, squeezing it with gentle reassurance.

"Ruby Rose," the woman, Sunsprite, muttered. "Are you the daughter of Summer Rose?"

"You knew my mom?" Ruby asked.

"No," Sunsprite admitted. "But my mother was her sister, and if you speak the truth, then you are my cousin, and we have much to discuss."

Ruby stared in wide-eyed awe, and Sunset could understand why. A cousin? Summer Rose had a sister? Did her father even know about this? And if he did, why hadn’t he mentioned it?

Another silver-eyed warrior, someone who might be able to teach Ruby how to master her silver eyes.

A part of her family she hadn’t known she’d had until that moment.

It was incredible, it was amazing, it was… wonderful for her. Ruby deserved to have something good happen to her.

Another rider, her face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak of Kendal green, urged her horse forwards and whispered into Sunsprite’s ear.

Sunsprite nodded. She pointed at Sunset. “And you, Sunset, is that your name?”

“It is,” she replied. “Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunsprite nodded. “My companion would have a word with you, some way off.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed, and she tried to see what lay underneath the hood of Sunsprite’s ‘companion,’ but she could not. The other rider had already turned away too much.

It was a little odd, that they should want to talk to Sunset in private, but why should they have ill-intentions towards Sunset? And if they did, she ought to be a match for any single backwoods varmint pledged to the service of a tin pot would-be queen. She was Sunset Shimmer, after all. Rustic warriors hardly frightened her.

“Very well,” she said quietly, leaping up on top of the wagon that stood between her and the riders. The wood creaked a little as she walked across it, jumping down onto the other side as the rider who was so desirous to speak with her began to ride away from the kraal, leaving Sunset to follow.

Sunset trudged after her, walking beside the churned-up earth left in the wake of the bay horse, until they were some distance from the kraal and the other rangers.

Only then did the rider dismount and walk around their horse to face Sunset. She pulled down her hood and removed the dark bandana covering her face.

Now it was Sunset’s turn to gawp. Her own face stared back at her, only shorn of any trace of faunus features. A human Sunset Shimmer. The human Sunset Shimmer. The Sunset Shimmer of this world, native to Remnant.

Staring right at her.

“Not too long ago, I would have asked how you were wearing my face, but now I think I know,” the other Sunset said, a broad smile upon her face. “You’re the other me, aren’t you? The Sunset Shimmer from Equestria?”

Who Are You?

Who Are You?

Sunset stared. Another Sunset? The other Sunset? Another Sunset who was quite unfazed to see a doppelganger of herself standing before her? Another Sunset who talked so glibly of Equestria?

What in Celestia’s name is going on here?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sunset declared with a face that gave nothing away.

The Other Sunset smirked. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We have the same face, for crying out loud.”

“That is quite a coincidence,” Sunset admitted.

“What do you think that you’re going to get by playing the fool like this?” Other Sunset asked. “Do you think I’ll forget what I know? Do you imagine that this is some wavering conviction from which I can be disabused by stonewalling denial? We share a face, we share a name, I know exactly what’s going on here, and I know exactly where you come from, so why don’t you drop the act so we can talk: me to me. Or you to you, if you prefer.”

Sunset took a step backwards and began to gather magic in her right hand. A green glow surrounded it as she thrust her left hand into her pocket and began to fumble for her rings.

Other Sunset’s eyes flickered to Sunset’s glowing hand. “So… that’s it? That’s what Equestrian magic looks like from one born with it?”

You might find out what it feels like in just a second, Sunset thought. “What does the name Equestria mean to you?”

“Not a lot, I admit, until someone – somepony, I should say – arrived from there not too long ago,” Other Sunset said casually. “I was part of the Ranger patrol that brought them in. It was the strangest thing: they had the face – the exact same face – of someone that I had known for over a year, someone I had taken orders from, someone I trusted and respected; this stranger had their face, but they were a faunus, while the face they wore belonged to a human. She claimed the same name, this stranger, at the same time as claiming that she didn’t know where she was or why she was wearing a form so familiar to us but which seemed so bizarre to her. She told a story about a magical land… and when we investigated the woods out of which she had emerged, we found… a cave from which a golden glow emerged… a glow through which we threw a rock only for it to disappear into nothing. Naturally, we took her story a lot more seriously after that.”

“Who is she?” Sunset asked.

Other Sunset smirked. “Ah, so you admit it?”

Do I look that delectably punchable when I’m smirking? Sunset wondered. “Is there much to be gained from outright denial?”

The smirk remained in place. It was very irritating, not least for the way it held up a mirror to Sunset herself. “Nothing at all,” Other Sunset declared.

“Then as you asked, I shan’t bother denying it,” Sunset said. “I am you, you are me, but I am from Equestria, while you… had the misfortune to be born here.” Sunset paused. “So, who is she?”

“Do you think you’ll know her?” Other Sunset asked.

I want to be able to tell Twilight who she is, in case somebody’s looking for her. Also so she can make sure nobody else accidentally falls through that portal. “Is there some particular reason you don’t want to tell me?”

“Perhaps I don’t trust myself?” Other Sunset suggested. “Or perhaps I know that the Queen wouldn’t like me to go around giving away secrets like that to just anyone, even if they are me, in a manner of speaking.”

“The Sun Queen,” Sunset murmured.

“You’ve heard of her?” Other Sunset said. She chuckled. “Of course you have. What has Prince Rutherford told you?”

“He has nothing but praise for her energy and ambition.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a very good liar?” Other Sunset asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sunset said softly.

“And loyal to your host, too,” Other Sunset said in an equally soft tone. Her green eyes narrowed. “You didn’t stumble out of a portal yesterday, did you? How long?”

Sunset hesitated. “Six years.”

Other Sunset whistled. “You never wanted to go home?”

Sunset shrugged. “The portal I travelled through didn’t stay open,” she said, which was not entirely untrue. “It was one use only.”

“And you never searched for another?”

“This place became home,” Sunset replied.

“I see,” Other Sunset said. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend trying to use the portal we found. Something – magic, I suppose – is seeping through it. It’s doing weird things to the area around. I thought the trees were going to attack our patrol on the way out.”

That means nobody stumbling the other way, thankfully. Assuming I can trust a word coming out of your mouth, Sunset thought. “Like I said, this place became home.”

“Not this place, exactly,” Other Sunset pointed out.

“No,” Sunset conceded. “Not exactly.”

Silence descended over the pair of them.

“Are you going to give me a little more to work with?” Other Sunset asked.

Now it was Sunset’s turn to smirk. “Perhaps I don’t trust myself.”

Other Sunset rolled her eyes. “I’m looking in a mirror, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sunset said, unsympathetically.

Other Sunset’s eyebrow rose curiously. “I know we’ve never met before-”

“And yet, I am continually confronted with mirrors of myself,” Sunset explained. “It happens so much more often than you’d think.”

“That sounds unbearable.”

“It’s a constant encouragement to keep doing better,” Sunset said. “Or trying to.”

“How saccharine,” Other Sunset remarked. “Where have you come across all these foils?”

“What have you done with your guest from Equestria whose name you won’t supply to me?” Sunset asked.

“You haven’t considered that she might not want you to have her name,” Other Sunset said. “You have no claim on her.”

“I’m her countryman,” Sunset said.

“Are you, after six years remove?”

Sunset snorted. “Fine. Keep her name to yourself; what did you do with her?”

“She is the Queen’s guest and treated with dignity,” Other Sunset replied. “Few people know of… where she truly comes from, but she is not harmed. The Queen and her closest do what they can to help her adjust to a stay in this new world.”

“She’s in Freeport?”

“Where else?”

“I’d like to meet her,” Sunset said.

“Homesick?” Other Sunset asked.

“I want to make sure that she’s alright.”

“I have no power to guarantee it,” Other Sunset admitted. “I am, after all, only a Ranger under the command of Sunsprite Rose. But… I see no reason why the Sun Queen should not be amenable to you… provided that you prove yourself to be amenable in turn.”

Sunset exhaled through her nostrils. “Vale,” she huffed. “We travel eastward from out of Vale.”

“Why?”

“We seek a ship to carry us east to Anima.”

“Why?”

Sunset put one hand upon her hip. “We hope to visit some old friends in Mistral.”

“'Old friends,'” Other Sunset repeated flatly. “Hmm. Is there any reason you couldn’t get a ship or air ship in Vale?”

“How long have you been out here in the wilds?” Sunset asked. “A lot has changed in Vale recently.”

“Has it so?” Other Sunset murmured. “Such as?”

“How long have you been out here?" Sunset repeated.

“Long enough,” Other Sunset replied. “A few years, perhaps a little longer.”

From Atlas, perchance? “There must be a fascinating story to how you ended up here,” Sunset suggested.

“Ancient history now,” Other Sunset deflected. “I prefer more recent stories.”

“Vale was attacked by the grimm,” Sunset informed her. “In great numbers. The city was protected by Atlesian and Mistralian troops, as well as by the young huntsmen and huntresses, but Beacon Tower was destroyed and… and Professor Ozpin among the casualties.”

Other Sunset became very still, and very quiet. “Ozpin… is dead?” she asked.

Sunset nodded her head, very slightly. “Yes.”

“So mighty a man was he, and only grimm to withstand him?” Other Sunset demanded.

“He fought alone,” Sunset replied, venturing a trace of truth. He fought alone because I was not beside him. Because he sent me away, though he surely knew the battle would return to Beacon and to him. “Where even the mightiest may be overwhelmed by the power of the horde.”

“You bring tidings blacker than a storm-crow,” Other Sunset muttered. “You say the tower fell and the CCT with it?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied. “It has made travel out of Vale… more difficult.”

“So you came east, hoping to find a ship on the coast?”

“Right.”

“To visit your friends?”

“Indeed,” Sunset answered.

“Hmm,” Other Sunset repeated. “This news of Vale’s weakness will please the Sun Queen, although…”

“It does not please you?” Sunset asked.

“I am but a Ranger, for all that I am fortunate to enjoy the confidence of Captain Rose,” Other Sunset declared. “What pleases the Queen pleases me best.”

“You are more than just a Ranger if you can guess her mind upon my news,” Sunset answered. “Why should Vale’s weakening please her?”

“Is it not obvious?” Other Sunset demanded. “The Sun Queen builds a kingdom here amidst the wilds. It is a sight that might not please the eyes of Vale, a new realm emerging upon their border where once a treacherous no man’s land lay fallow. But the eyes of Beacon Tower are blind, and Vale is wounded. There is nothing to trouble us in the west.”

“Keen strategic insight from a mere Ranger.”

“I like to think that I could be more,” Other Sunset said easily. “One day.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured. “So… what happens now?”

The Other Sunset threw up her hood and once more raised her mask to cover her face. “I‘d appreciate it if you kept me to yourself; I’ll speak to Captain Rose and ask that she not mention my name, since it’s a little too late to keep silent about yours.”

“You’re not known amongst these people?”

“Why would they know me in particular?” Other Sunset asked. “I’m just a Ranger, one amongst many.” Her face was now concealed beneath her mask, but Sunset could sense the smile. “I look forward,” she declared, “to getting to know me better.”

Ruby stared at the other woman, the one who had named herself Sunsprite Rose. The girl in the yellow cloak who called herself her cousin.

My cousin.

I have a cousin.

My mother had a sister.

What does that even mean?

It meant… well, it meant that she had a cousin, obviously. A cousin she’d never known about before, the daughter of an aunt she’d never known about before, a whole part of her family she’d never known about before.

Her family. The Rose family. The Xiao Long-Rose family that had just gotten a little bit bigger.

And she has silver eyes. A silver eye.

Not that that made any difference – it didn’t make them any more or less family than they had been before – but… it was pretty cool.

Sunsprite dismounted, handing the reins of her horse off to one of her Rangers. In doing so, the mount – a bay horse, covered in a crude armoured carapace like most of the Rangers’ horses – turned to the side, exposing the gun thrust into the saddle holster.

Ruby’s eyes got even wider, if that were possible. “Is that a Mantle Assault Rifle ’37 from the Great War?”

Sunsprite paused, looking a little confused as to whether Ruby was being serious or not, but after a moment’s hesitation, she reached for the holstered weapon and produced the antique firearm. The world’s earliest example of a selective fire assault rifle, the AR-37 was a squat weapon, short in length, manufactured entirely out of black metal, save for the modest stock of dark wood, with a slender barrel and a banana shaped magazine. “It is,” Sunsprite declared.

Ruby’s mouth formed an O. “How did you get something like this? These are supposed to be really rare.”

“In the Kingdoms, maybe,” Sunsprite said. “Old guns are a lot more common in this part of the world; there are still many relics from the war.”

Ruby looked past Sunsprite and saw that many of the weapons with which the Rangers were armed were old-fashioned short-magazine rifles, either bolt-action or semi-automatic. None of them, that she could see, had an assault rifle. “This still looks pretty rare.”

Sunsprite grinned. “We were fortunate enough to stumble upon a large cache of Great War weapons preserved in an old abandoned bunker, forgotten by the armies. Assault rifles, machine guns, pistols. The Sun Queen let me take my pick. I…” she scratched her chin with a trace of embarrassment. “I’m kind of a weapons nerd.”

“Really?” Ruby gasped. “Me too! I guess we really are family!”

“I’m not sure that’s quite how it works,” Sunsprite murmured.

“Have you ever disassembled any of your weapons?” Ruby asked.

Sunsprite nodded. “I’ve taken all of them apart to make sure they work and that I know how they work.”

“And then you put them back together again?”

“Obviously.”

“Didn’t you feel like the parts, like the weapon was… like it was talking to you?” Ruby said. “Talking in a language that only you could understand?”

Sunsprite said nothing as she leapt over the wagon that separated her from Ruby. “I learnt how to maintain weapons from my mother and my grandfather,” she said. “Did your mother teach you?”

“N-no,” Ruby admitted. “My mom… she died when I was really young. I don’t… the weapon thing… it’s just something that I’ve always been good at. I’ve always known what to do around weapons, even when I didn’t really know… anything else.”

“Huh,” Sunsprite murmured. “Who knows? Perhaps it is in our Rose blood, as strange as that sounds.” She held out the old assault rifle.

Ruby blinked, and looked at her cousin. “Really?”

“I’m not giving it to you,” Sunsprite clarified, “but if you know so much about it, don’t you want to know how it feels?”

Ruby did want to know how it felt. Mantle weapons were pretty cool for how advanced they were compared to the weapons being used by other countries in the Great War. In fact, it was kind of a surprise they lost the war with so much technology on their side.

Gingerly, Ruby reached out and lifted the weapon gently out of Sunsprite’s hands. She didn’t know if it was loaded, but she kept her finger well off the trigger and the barrel pointed towards the ground even as she pressed the stock tightly into her shoulder and looked down the iron sights. “It’s a little smaller than I thought it would be,” she admitted. “Or perhaps it’s just smaller than I’m used to. Does she have a name?”

Sunsprite blinked her one visible eye. “Why would it have a name?”

“It?” Ruby repeated. “You can’t call her ‘it’; you’ll hurt her feelings!”

“It’s a gun, not my daughter,” Sunsprite said, holding out her hand.

“Yeah, but…” Ruby handed the weapon back. “You put your life in her hands; doesn’t that make her special?”

Sunsprite’s eye narrowed. “Are all dwellers in the kingdoms so sentimental about their weapons?”

“Not just in kingdom,” Prince Rutherford declared. “Rutherford’s axe named Serpent Slayer, after great-grandfather kill king taijitsu with it.”

“Such is the way of the past,” Sunsprite declared. “I am amazed that you hold to it in Vale.”

“In Vale, everyone names their weapons,” Ruby explained, a little disappointed by her cousin’s hard-nosed attitude. “Like this.” She produced Crescent Rose and turned away from Sunsprite so that she had room to unfurl her enormous weapon in all her glory. “Meet Crescent Rose.”

Sunsprite’s eye was so wide it seemed ready to pop out of her socket. “What… is that a scythe?”

“And a sniper rifle,” Ruby said proudly. “Do you like it? I made it myself!”

Sunsprite continued to stare. “You… you were not lying about a talent with weapons. We… there is not the skill in Freeport to create such a thing… yet! The Sun Queen will raise us up so there is such skill, and then… when we can make such weapons, then they may be worthy to be given names.”

Ruby folded Crescent Rose back into its more compact and portable configuration. “It’s not about how complicated they are, it’s about… it’s about what they mean to you. What does that gun mean to you?”

Sunsprite glanced down at the weapon in her hands. “It means nothing to me; it’s a gun. It is a fine gun, but it’s still just a gun.”

“That’s just sad.”

“That is the way things are here,” Sunsprite declared. “This is a hard land, and we must be hard people to dwell in it. We have no time for sentimental nonsense.”

“The Frost Mountain clan seem to disagree,” Ruby pointed out.

“They are a clan; what do you expect?” Sunsprite muttered.

“What Sunsprite say?” Prince Rutherford demanded.

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Sunsprite said. She fell silent for a moment, looking down at Ruby. “So…”

“Yeah, so…” Ruby said awkwardly. She had hoped that they had broken the ice by bonding over weapons, but now that that subject was done… there were things that she wanted to ask, so many things that she wanted to know… but she wasn’t sure how to ask them.

“You’re… small,” Sunsprite observed.

“I guess,” Ruby said dispiritedly. “You’re… not.”

Sunsprite snorted. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen, and you made that?” Sunsprite demanded. “How long ago?”

“When I was fourteen,” Ruby said. “That’s the age when all the students at Signal Combat School make their own weapons.”

“And yet I bet they were not all as… well-made as yours.”

“I…” Ruby grinned slightly. “I guess not.”

“So,” Sunsprite said. “What brings a girl of sixteen years away from the safety of the Kingdom of Vale out into our eastern wilds?”

“I’m sixteen; I’m not some kid,” Ruby protested. “I’m a huntress… or at least… I was training to be.”

“Did you see sense?”

“‘See sense’?” Ruby repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that your mother went away to Beacon Academy,” Sunsprite said, a touch of harshness in her voice. “That tower drew her far away, over the mountains, and beyond the rivers. For a long time, my mother and my grandfather – our grandfather – looked for her return, but… she came homeward not. The tower drew her away… to her death, it seems. You are come… not homeward, for you did not think to find me here.”

“No,” Ruby admitted. “I didn’t know… my mom… she wasn’t…”

“She did not live long enough to tell you of her family or where she came from?”

“No,” Ruby agreed. “Although… I’m not sure if she would have. I don’t think she told Dad. He never mentioned that Mom had a sister. I have her diary, and so I knew that she came from outside the kingdom, but she never talked about where. So… my mom grew up here? On this side of the mountains? In Freeport?”

“Freeport is a creation of the Sun Queen,” Sunsprite corrected her. “It did not exist in my mother’s time or yours. Our family dwelt then in a place called New Lancaster, a little hamlet of small account. I took my grandfather to Freeport where he would be safe when I joined the Sun Queen’s Rangers.”

“And your mom?” Ruby asked.

Sunsprite was silent for a moment. “My mother met the same fate as your own, and in a like manner, no doubt.”

“Oh,” Ruby said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Sunsprite glanced away. “We must all be willing to give our lives, must we not? We who venture out to fight for others?”

“Yes,” Ruby agreed. “But all the same… I’m still sorry. Knowing that someone you love died for a worthy cause… it doesn’t make losing them any easier.”

Sunsprite looked down at her. “Who else have you lost?”

Ruby glanced down at the ground. “My sister,” she said. “She died last year, at the Battle of Vale.”

Sunsprite knelt down before her, her yellow cloak pooling in the dirt around her legs, and reached out to place a strong, firm hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “You are right, of course. The cause, however worthy, does not make the loss any easier to bear.”

“Does… is our grandfather-?”

“He still lives, though he is old and sickly now,” Sunsprite told her. She smiled. “He will be delighted to meet his other granddaughter… though it will grieve him to learn that his daughter is dead, and that he had another granddaughter whom he will never meet.”

She clearly thought that Yang was also Summer’s daughter, and Ruby was in no mood to dissuade her from that opinion. Summer Rose had been Yang’s mom, in every way that mattered, and what was the point of splitting hairs at a time like this? “I’d like to meet him too,” Ruby said. “Hey, do you want to meet my Dad?”

“Do I want to meet the man who took my aunt away?” Sunsprite muttered. She sighed. “Yes. Why not?” She stood up. “But even more, I would like to know what brings you here, you and your companions.”

“We… we’re trying to get to Anima,” Ruby said, as she led the way through the camp of the Frost Mountain clan. “A… a friend of ours is waiting for us there.”

“There are no boats in Vale to carry you across the sea?”

“We… were hoping to move secretly,” Ruby replied. “We were hoping to find a boat in Freeport.”

“That will depend.”

Ruby frowned. “Depend on what?”

“On what the Sun Queen thinks of your errand, and of you.”

“Does the Queen control all the boats?”

“The Sun Queen is the mistress of Freeport, its architect, the arbiter of all peace in this land,” Sunsprite declared. “No boat will sail for Anima without her leave.”

“Why not?” Ruby asked. “I mean, why would she stop us from sailing across the sea?”

"Because they are the Queen's boats," Sunsprite said. "Crewed by the Queen's subjects."

"She owns all of them?" Ruby asked. "There are no fishing boats, or… or trading ships, or anything like that?"

"And why should a fishing boat not belong to the Sun Queen?" Sunsprite asked. "When she is queen of Freeport and all the lands around, why, then, should not all the treasures of Freeport and the land not belong to the queen, to dispose of as she will? Even this gun," she added, "belonged to the Sun Queen until she, in her benevolence, bestowed it on me."

"That… doesn't sound like a great thing," Ruby admitted.

Sunsprite stopped. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because you can't just say that you own everything," Ruby declared.

"Is that not how it is in every kingdom?"

"No! Why does everyone around here seem to think that?" Ruby demanded. "People don't just get to go around taking stuff! It's the opposite; we call those people criminals, and we lock them away!"

"We do that here, as well."

"Unless you're the queen," Ruby pointed out.

Sunsprite was silent for a moment. "You have spent some time with the Frost Mountain clan, and no doubt, they have filled your head with a great deal of talk of freedom and such like. But the freedom that my mother – and yours – grew up in was the freedom to die. The freedom to be preyed upon by grimm and tribes alike. Do you know what some of these nomadic tribes were capable of?"

Ruby nodded slightly. "One of our… someone travelling with us used to belong to the Fall Forest clan, before they left. She said that… that they used to sacrifice people."

Sunsprite nodded grimly. "And so they did, and worse besides. The Fall Forest clan were amongst the worst, but the others were not so much better. Even your friends of the Frost Mountain clan, though they present a friendly face, are not beyond being roused to savagery. These lands have had no law since the wars in our great-great-grandfather's time. Since then, they have belonged to the grimm and to the tribes, and all others must skulk about and hope to escape the fury of those latter two." Sunsprite paused. "You have the eyes. Do you know what is said of them?"

"That we have cool magic eye powers?" Ruby suggested.

Sunsprite snorted. "So I am told, though they have never… I have never been able to… in any case, what is also said – what has been said since long before there were kingdoms of men – is that we who have these eyes are destined to lead the life of a warrior. Perhaps… perhaps that is why we both respond so readily to weapons? Perhaps that is why they speak to us? It is not our Rose blood but our silver eyes that call to us."

"I… I guess," Ruby murmured. "But what does this have to do with-?"

"There are too few of us," Sunsprite explained. "Too few to fight the grimm, too few to protect every farm and town and hall. We are the last of our line, you and I. Grandfather had two daughters, but my mother had only one daughter, and your sister is dead. I have not met another with our eyes in all my years. We may be the last in all the world. Trust cannot be put in natural born warriors to defend the light and ward off darkness. But the Sun Queen… she is building a better world for all who dwell east of the mountains. She has imposed the Queen's Peace upon the clans, she sends out her Rangers to defend the people and enforce her laws, she is making a nation that can defend itself from all perils. Is that not a thing worth fighting for? Is that not a thing worth dying for?" Sunsprite reached up and lifted up her eyepatch; the eye that should have been beneath it was gone, and in its place, a mass of ugly scar tissue. "A beowolf took my eye, fighting before a steading west of Falkreath. I had fought too long, and my aura broke. The beast would have killed me, but I was saved by one of my Rangers." She paused. "But in that steading were children, and men and women alike helpless before the fury of the grimm. And thanks to our efforts, they did not come to harm. I would have given my life for less."

Ruby nodded, a smile crossing her face. "You know, it's funny… so many of my friends, even the people who care about me… they act like I'm weird for feeling just the way that you do… maybe it's another silver eye thing, maybe that's why they don't get it?"

"Or perhaps they are simply unsuited for the life of a warrior," Sunsprite suggested. "These friends of yours, are they whom you seek across the water?"

"I…" Ruby hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn't really want to lie to her cousin, but at the same time, she wasn't sure that she ought to tell her the truth either. "My Dad isn't far away, come on."

Sunsprite replaced the patch over her eye and said nothing about Ruby's obvious evasion as she followed her smaller, younger cousin through the camp of the Frost Mountain clan. It was, indeed, not long before they found Taiyang, sitting on the ground, reading a slender book. Zwei sat by his side, but as Ruby approached, he barked eagerly, causing Taiyang to look up.

"Ruby," he said. "And who is…" he stopped. "Your… eye…"

"Dad," Ruby said. "This is my cousin, Sunsprite Rose. Sunsprite, this is my Dad, and Zwei."

Zwei barked.

Taiyang climbed to his feet. "'Cousin'?"

"My mother was Tudor Rose, sister of Summer Rose," Sunsprite said. She frowned. "Aunt Summer never told you that she had a sister?"

"No," Taiyang murmured. "Summer… didn't talk much about her family. None of my teammates did when I was a kid, so I just accepted it, and then later… I figured there was a good reason, and, so I left it alone."

"I understand that… she and our grandfather fought, about her crossing the mountains," Sunsprite admitted. "For his part, Grandfather regretted it after, but… perhaps she felt there would be no welcome here for her."

"Maybe," Taiyang replied quietly. "That… would explain it, I suppose." He held out one hand. "Taiyang Xiao Long, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Sunsprite said, clasping his hand firmly. "I am sorry to hear that you have lost both wife and daughter."

Taiyang nodded. "They both died bravely, I'm sure. I… I try to take what comfort I can from that."

"Of course," Sunsprite said softly. She paused. "I… I never knew her, but I heard my mother talk of her sister, and my grandfather still mentions her. I would… know of her, if you can bear to speak."

"There's a lot that I'd like to know about my family too," Ruby said.

Sunsprite glanced down at her. "I will tell you what I can, and when you meet our grandfather in Freeport, then he will be able to tell you more."

"Nice to see you're all getting along so well."

Ruby looked around. Sunset stood just a little way off, accompanied by the Ranger in Kendal green who had asked to speak with her. At first she thought that it was Sunset who had spoken, but Sunset's mouth wasn't moving, even though it sounded just like her. The Ranger, her own face concealed beneath her mask, must have a very similar voice.

"Forgive the interruption," she continued. "My name is Vesper Radiance, and I was hoping that I might have a word with you, Captain?"

"Of course," Sunsprite said. "Excuse me." She left Ruby and Taiyang and crossed the distance separating her from Vesper and Sunset. Sunset, for her part, headed the other way, towards Ruby.

"How are you doing?" Sunset asked softly, as Sunsprite and Vesper engaged in hushed conversation of their own.

"Okay," Ruby said. "I like her."

"How much have you told her?" Sunset asked.

"Not much," Ruby said. "I wasn't sure how much to tell. Just that we want a boat to carry us east."

"That's about all I've said too; let's keep it that way."

"What's going on?" Taiyang asked.

Sunset's eyes flickered towards him. "Not right now," she said.

Sunsprite turned back towards them. "My Rangers will escort you and the Frost Mountain Clan to Freeport tomorrow. Tonight, I will try and persuade the old man to open up his gates and his wine cellar to us. He might be more amenable to a Queen's Ranger than to a clan chief." She looked at Ruby. "We will talk of our family, of your mother and mine and all else I can remember, but later. Right now, I must give the orders to my followers and set up camp."

"Sure," Ruby said. "Until later then."

"I look forward to it," Sunsprite said solemnly, before she turned and walked away back towards the edge of the camp. Vesper hesitated for a moment before following after her.

"Sunset," Ruby murmured, as they left. "What's up?"

Sunset didn't answer. She looked around the camp until she caught sight of Cinder. "Cinder!" Sunset hissed, gesturing with one hand.

Cinder, who was holding what looked like a scarf in one hand, jogged over to them. "The word in the camp is that the leader of these Rangers is your cousin, Ruby," she said. "How does that feel?"

"Weird. Great. A little scary," Ruby said. "It feels like a lot of things, and I'm not sure what it feels most like. They're just… all mixed up together, you know?"

"If I found out I had a whole new branch of my family I'd never known about before, I'm sure I'd feel the same way," Cinder murmured. "Sunset, is something amiss?"

Sunset glanced at Taiyang. "Mister Xiao Long, will you excuse us for a moment?"

Taiyang folded his arm. "Why?"

"Because I am about to touch on certain matters personal to me," Sunset said sharply, "and I don't mean to share them with just anyone."

"I'm Ruby's father."

"But not mine," Sunset replied. "I don't owe you all my secrets."

"If there is something going on, then I'm not going to let you keep me in the dark," Taiyang replied. "In fact, I think we should all-"

"No," Sunset snapped. "No way. I am not telling Sami or Torchwick or Jack about this."

"Sunset," Ruby whispered. "Does this have to do with…" she trailed off; there was only one secret that she could think Sunset would be this protective of at this stage, but she didn't know how to say it while still keeping it a secret.

"Yes," Sunset answered. "It is exactly that."

"I see," Ruby said softly. "Dad, it's okay."

"Ruby?"

"I'll explain the important stuff to you, but Sunset's right," Ruby insisted. "She deserves to keep this to herself if she wants to."

Taiyang hesitated, but only for a moment. "Okay, if you're sure." He bent down and scooped up Zwei in his arms. "I hope you know what you're doing," he said to Sunset, before he walked away.

"Yeah," Sunset muttered. "Me too."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "What am I missing?"

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "So… you know that I am from Equestria?"

"Yes," Cinder said.

"And in Equestria, there is another Twilight Sparkle, another Rainbow Dash-"

"Another Yang," Ruby added.

"Right," Sunset agreed. "Well, the opposite is true too. There is another Sunset Shimmer native to this world… and I've just met her; she's the one who called herself Vesper Radiance."

Ruby's eyes widened. "She was… she was you? I mean, she was another you? I mean another Sunset Shimmer?"

"Yes," Sunset replied. "And that's not the half of it. She wasn't in the least bit fazed to see me; she knows about Equestria and about the fact that there are duplicates there of people living here."

"How?" Cinder demanded.

"Apparently, there is another portal, besides the one I used," Sunset said. "A wilder portal, through which another pony fell, was found by the Rangers, and told them everything. So the other me says, anyway."

"But you don't believe her?" Cinder said.

"I don't trust her," Sunset said. "She is me, after all."

"But she does know about Equestria," Ruby countered. "Why would she lie about how?"

"Why wouldn't she tell me the name of this pony who fell through the gap between our worlds?" Sunset asked. "I just… am I being paranoid, or do I remember what I was like too well?"

"You're wise," Cinder assured her. "I wouldn't trust another me either. Not until they gave me cause to trust."

“Do you think she’s planning something… something bad?” Ruby asked, aware that the word sounded inadequate but unsure of a better one.

“I’m sure she’s planning something,” Sunset replied.

“What?”

"I… I don't know," Sunset admitted, as she ran both hands through her flaming hair. "I just don't know."

What Do You Want?

What Do You Want?

The night was loud.

The master of Windstad Manor had opened his gates to the Queen’s Rangers in a way that he had been too fearful and obstinate to do for the Frost Mountain Clan, and besides opening his gates, he had opened his larder and his wine cellar, which was apparently well-stocked. Of Sunset and her companions, only Ruby had been invited into the great hall to join the master of the steading and his housecarls, Prince Rutherford and his close kin, and Sunsprite Rose of the Rangers at a feast within. Whether it was because of Sunsprite or Yona, who was attending as the prince’s niece, that Ruby had been invited into the hall, Sunset did not know, but she hoped that Ruby enjoyed herself there.

“I don’t know, Sunset,” Ruby said. “Going in there all by myself, you know?”

“You’re not going to be by yourself,” Sunset reminded her. “Yona’s going to be there, and your new cousin.”

“The cousin I don’t know?” Ruby asked.

Sunset shrugged. “Now’s your chance. Or not. I don’t know. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go, but… this seems like a big deal, someone who can teach you about your family, where you come from.”

“I know where I come from,” Ruby declared. “I come from Patch, west of Vale, and I’m the daughter of Summer Rose and Taiyang Xiao Long.” She hesitated. “But… it would be nice to know more about where my mom came from.”

“As I said: now’s your chance,” Sunset told her.

Ruby regarded Sunset curiously. “You’re not upset about not being invited.”

“I haven’t been the sort of person to get upset by that kind of thing in… in a while,” Sunset replied.

“Yeah,” Ruby murmured. “I guess you haven’t, huh.”

Sunset frowned. “You sound… disappointed.”

“I… I don’t know,” Ruby muttered. “You did some pretty terrible things, but you knew what you wanted. What do you want now, Sunset?”

Yes, Sunset hoped that Ruby enjoyed herself inside the hall. She also hoped that she didn’t drink too much, not only for the sake of Ruby’s own dignity but also because her dad was likely to flip if she came staggering outside vomiting her own guts out.

Fortunately, Ruby wasn’t that kind of girl; she had self-control, and Sunset trusted Yona, even if she didn’t know this mysterious Rose cousin well enough to say whether she was trustworthy or not.

In any case, although the feast in the hall was only for the elite guests of the master of Windstad, there was plenty of food and, it seemed, plenty of drink too spilled out into the grounds for the clansfolk of Frost Mountain, for the Rangers, and, yes, for Sunset and the rest of her companions.

Sunset had herself eaten and drunk but little; she didn’t particularly enjoy wine - she preferred a good cider if she was going to drink anything - and this feast seemed rather heavy on the meat and a little light upon the vegetables that she would have preferred. Her stomach was not yet protesting its ill-treatment at her hands, but suffice to say, she had not stuffed herself.

Her mind felt emptier than her gut at present.

“What do you want now, Sunset?”

Ruby’s question echoed in her mind. What did she want now? Before, she had possessed ambitions, albeit rather childish ones: she had wanted fame, glory, to be exalted above all others. Even after she had formed friendships with her team, even after she had reconciled with Princess Celestia, even after all that, she had not completely sacrificed her ambitions for herself and for Team SAPR. She had simply stopped holding them supreme, to be exalted above all else.

But now… she supposed, in an ironic sense, she could be said to have achieved her ambition. She had become infamous as the Betrayer of Vale. She had ruined her life, small as that seemed when set against the larger consequences of her actions.

So where did that leave her? What did she want now?

Sunset was sat alone, on the edge of the Windstad estate, her back resting against the wooden palisade, mostly concealed from view behind a chicken coop. It reminded her a little bit of the Beacon farm, the way the chickens clucked and squawked and scampered all over the place. Sunset herself hadn’t spent a lot of time there – she had considered herself to be above such things – but she knew that Ruby, Jaune, and even Pyrrha had been fond of the place, in their own ways.

Sunset was more interested in the journal open on her knees in front of her.

Hello? Is anyone there?

Yes, Sunset, I’m here. Or would you prefer to speak to Princess Celestia?

Sunset hesitated, her pen poised, hovering over the page. I honestly have no idea.

Something’s wrong, isn’t it?

It feels like it, but why don’t we get the important stuff out of the way before I burden you with my existential crisis? Do you know of any ponies going missing recently?

Missing? Where?

I’m not quite sure. I’m afraid it could be anywhere in Equestria or beyond.

That’s a big area, and I’m not exactly running a missing persons agency. I could try and find out, but why? What’s going on?

Somepony has fallen through a portal between Equestria and Remnant, and I thought you might know who they are.

That sounds terrible! That poor pony. I can’t imagine how scared they must be, not only in a new world but in a new body, too! But why do you need me to tell you who they are? Why don’t you just ask them yourself?

Because I haven’t met them and because the other me won’t tell me their name. All they’ll tell me is that someone from Equestria came through a portal, a portal which may now be completely inaccessible from the Remnant side because of the effects of Equestrian magic bleeding through – that’s another reason why I’d like for you to look at where this portal is, by the way; that kind of magical leakage shouldn’t be happening and isn’t healthy for Remnant – but they won’t say who this pony is.

Did you just say ‘the other me’?

Sunset hesitated for a moment. Yes, I suppose I just did. It isn’t as important to you as the disappearing ponies and portals thing – or at least, it shouldn’t be – but I met the human me, the real Sunset Shimmer of Remnant.

Twilight did not reply, at least for a little while, during which time Sunset started to grow a little anxious at the lack of response. She couldn’t help but wonder what was taking Twilight so long and what the delay might mean.

Sorry about that. I just had a few things to take care of. I’ve informed Princess Celestia that there is a wild portal somewhere in Equestria, and I’ve asked Starlight and Spike to gather up as many old newspapers as possible; once we’re done here, the three of us will see if we can find any reports of mysterious disappearances that might help narrow down the search area.

That’s a smart move. It’s a pity that it isn’t easier to determine the geographical relationships between Equestria and Remnant, but the two worlds look so dissimilar, I’m not sure that there can be much of a geographic relationship.

Well, we already know that there’s a temporal relationship, but I take your point; it would be difficult to pin down any geographic equivalence, especially with only one point of data to go on. But you were saying, about the other Sunset?

I said it wasn’t important.

You said it wasn’t important compared to the disappearances, but I’ve already set things in motion on that front, so you might as well talk to me about it. What’s she like?

Guarded. It’s hard to say too much more beyond that. I don’t trust her.

Is that because you don’t trust yourself?

It’s because I know myself better than anyone else in Remnant; I was a terrible person before I met Ruby, Pyrrha, and Jaune; why should the other Sunset be any better?

You changed.

I was changed by good people. I don’t see any around the other Sunset.

None at all? She’s a loner then, like you?

Not exactly. I should probably back up just a little bit. We’re on our way to a town called Freeport. Freeport, it turns out, is the regional capital of a burgeoning little country that is being formed by someone called the Sun Queen. The other me, the Sunset of this world, is one of the Sun Queen’s Rangers, alongside Ruby’s cousin, Sunsprite Rose.

Ruby has a cousin?

There have been a lot of surprises lately.

How does she feel about that?

She’s pleased, or at least, she seems to be. This is a chance for her to learn about her family, about their history, to learn things that even her father doesn’t know. It’s a once in a lifetime chance; she’d be a fool to pass it up.

And how do you feel about it?

Sunset sucked on the tip of her pen. I wish I could be sure that she was trustworthy. Maybe I’d trust her more completely if she wasn’t in the company of myself, but she is, and so Sunset hesitated again. Maybe I’m being unfair. Ruby hung out with me at my worst, and it didn’t make her untrustworthy.

No, but then again, I’m not going to judge you for judging other people on the company they keep.

Sunset sighed. I just wish that I could be more certain.

Certain of what?

Certain of everything! Certain that we were on the right course, certain that I was doing the right thing, certain that I could trust Ruby’s cousin and the other me, certain that I could trust some of my companions. Certain of myself. Who am I, Twilight?

I’m afraid I don’t really understand the question.

Ruby asked me something tonight. She asked me what I wanted. And I’m not sure that I have an answer.

I thought that you wanted to reach Professor Ozpin – or his current incarnation under this rather inefficient and frankly quite cruel-seeming system – and protect him from his enemies.

I do.

Isn’t that enough?

It’s enough to be getting on with doing, sure, but it isn’t mine. It’s not something that I want for myself. Not like my ambitions, which have been burnt out of me by failure and disappointment. All I have left is duty, all else has been hollowed out.

You still have your friends.

Do I? And even if they were all here, would that be enough?

You don’t need grand desires to be complete. Of my friends, Fluttershy, Applejack, and Pinkie want nothing more than for things to continue as they are, living the lives that they enjoy. Except that you don’t enjoy this life, do you?

At the moment, I can’t really say that I do.

Have you spoken to Cinder about this?

Why would I do that?

Because she’s your friend. And because you might be surprised by what she has to say in response. At least consider confiding in her.

Cinder has her own burdens without carrying mine too.

Just think about it.

Fine. I will think about it.

I wish I could be of more help.

It’s fine.

Clearly, it isn’t.

Sunset snorted. No, I suppose it’s not. But don’t worry, I’m not going to quit just because I’m feeling burnt out in the most literal sense.

I’m not worried about you quitting, I’m worried about you reaching your limit.

That won’t happen while I have those magic rings that you taught me how to make.

Something I like even less to hear you talk like this. You realise that your ability to resist the dark magic depends in part upon your willpower, right? Is there nothing that you want? Nothing at all?

I want to do the right thing; is that enough?

I don’t know; is it enough for you?

I don’t know either. There’s a lot that I don’t know. I don’t even know what my cutie mark means.

Really?

Sunset grinned in spite of herself. I used to think it symbolised my destiny to surpass Celestia, but that obviously isn’t it. And it isn’t as if I’m raising the sun over in this world, so, yeah, I’m at a bit of a loss.

Perhaps if you’ll figure it out, then you’ll figure out what it is that you want to do once your mission is complete.

My mission isn’t the kind that will ever be complete.

That doesn’t mean you can’t have a life beyond it. I could help you try and work out your cutie mark, if you like? I know three young fillies who are very talented in that regard. In fact, it’s what they got their cutie marks in.

Sunset frowned. They got their cutie marks in understanding cutie marks?

More broadly, it’s in helping other ponies find their place in the world. Every pony’s cutie mark represents a gift they have to share with the world around them

Thank you, I have studied cutie mark theory.

And the Crusaders’ gift is in helping others get to grips with their gift so that everypony can help make Equestria an even better place. So, would you like their help? You’d have to write to me a lot earlier than this, because they have bedtimes.

Sunset couldn’t help but laugh. I will think about it. Speaking of thinking about things, have you given any more consideration to teaching me time travel?

There was a hesitation on the other end of the book. I’m afraid I still haven’t made up my mind yet.

This is going to sound awful, but I wouldn’t need to find a new purpose in my life if I hadn’t screwed up my life so badly.

Quite apart from the risks – and let’s not beat around the bush; the risks are considerable – I’m just not sure that this is the solution to your problems that you and Ruby think it is. You need to give me more time.

Are you sure you’re not just stalling because you don’t want to say no?

That’s not the kind of pony I am.

No, no it isn’t. She rubbed her eyes with one hand. Sunset: I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m just feeling a little tired.

And you’re not just talking about lack of sleep are you? But anyway, I’ll let you get some rest.

That’s a very tactful way of saying that you’re tired of dealing with me right now. Thank you.

Give some thought to accepting the Crusaders’ help; they really are very good at this. I hope you feel better. Goodnight, Sunset.

Goodnight, Princess.

“What are you doing?”

Sunset slammed the book shut as she looked up. The Other Sunset – Vesper Radiance, as she had named herself to Ruby – was standing looking down on her, her face uncovered for the moment. Her eyes glittered in the darkness.

“Nothing,” Sunset said defensively.

Vesper smirked. “Just contemplating the world?”

“Something like that,” Sunset muttered. I was wondering where I fit into it, after all. “You didn’t get invited to the feast?”

Vesper shook her head. “I’m only a Ranger; why should there be a place for me at the high table with the captain? And besides, even if I could go, I don’t think I’d want to.”

Sunset snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I know a rationalisation when I hear one,” Sunset informed her other self. Celestia knows I’ve come up with enough of my own.

“That may be,” Vesper declared, “but I happen to be serious. Feast and banquets… everyone is on their best behaviour. Everyone is wearing a mask. You learn a lot more out here, in the camp, where people feel less guarded.”

“You mean you spy on people?”

“I talk,” Vesper said. “And I listen.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. The Sun Queen hid her face, Prince Rutherford had said, and she went about wearing many guises, spying on clans and towns and steadings. “Does Sunsprite Rose know that you are her queen and not her soldier?”

Vesper stared down at her. A slow smile crossed her face. "I probably ought to be upset or make some denial, but to be honest, I'm just glad that the other me is as perceptive as I'd like to think I am." She chuckled. "Yes, I am the Sun Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, and no, Sunsprite doesn't know that. The Queen is known to many, but Sunset Shimmer to only a few trusted companions of mine, those whom I brought with me from Atlas. As far as Sunsprite knows, I am a Ranger, albeit one who serves the Queen directly and has her favour and is entrusted by her with errands and the like."

"A privilege which you use to get yourself assigned to ranging parties like this one whenever the fancy takes you and to excuse your lack of attendance whenever it doesn't," Sunset murmured.

The smile remained on Vesper's face as she sat down. "Precisely."

"Why?" Sunset asked.

"I want to find out what my kingdom is really like," Vesper explained. "I want to hear what my subjects really think."

"About you."

"About everything," Vesper replied. "Like I said, when the clan chiefs and the town headmen sit down at the banqueting table, they wear masks every bit as inscrutable as my own. They tell me what they think will flatter me or what they guess I wish to hear. I learn very little of use from any of them that way, but this way… this way, I learn a lot. And, by appearing to acquire knowledge as if I have plucked it out of the air, I spread my reputation and give myself an air of power and mystery."

"An interesting approach to rule," Sunset acknowledged. In Equestria, there were all kinds of rumours about Princess Celestia wandering through the streets of Canterlot magically disguised as a common pegasus, but Sunset had never seen it happen, and she wasn't inclined to believe it ever had. In the first place, disguising yourself like a changeling wasn't that easy, and in the second place, it just didn't seem like Princess Celestia's style. She might lament the distance between herself and the little ponies over whom she ruled, but she would never practice deception on them, spy on them when they were unaware of it, just to close that distance. She would recognise that no true closing could occur under such circumstances, and as for Vesper's reasons for hiding her identity… Sunset felt that Princess Celestia would trust her ponies to bring their grievances to her.

However, Vesper Radiance didn't have the advantage of a thousand-year reign and all of its attendant stability, not to mention the affection accrued over long years in the hearts of her subjects or the hard-won experience that piled itself high by mere existence. Vesper Radiance was, if Sunset understood the lay of the land here correctly, building a nation from the ground up, forging it out of rock and stone and hostile barbarians.

Meanwhile I am… what?

Honestly, a little bit jealous is what I am right now.

"Tell me something," Sunset said. "Why did you make yourself the Sun Queen of Freeport?"

"Aside from the fact that crowns are cool, you mean?"

Sunset smirked. "True, but yes. Apart from that."

"You know what they say: be the change you want to see in the world," Vesper said. "I came here and found a land and a people who needed somebody with vision and foresight to pull them up by the bootstraps and make something out of them, and I thought 'well, why not me?'"

"I can't imagine it was easy getting everyone to buy into your project," Sunset murmured.

Vesper shrugged. "Some came around more easily than others. The towns and steadings were frequently glad to have some order imposed, to be protected from the marauding of the clans. Once I had the resources of Freeport at my disposal, I was able to provide that protection, and they fell in line in order to obtain a piece of it. The clans themselves were slower to come around. Some of them had to be compelled to bend the knee more forcefully than others."

"The Frost Mountain Clan?" Sunset asked.

"Tried to stay out of my way," Vesper explained. "Once it became clear that was impossible, Prince Rutherford knelt rather than resist. And I daresay that my rule has not been overly harsh upon them. I have done little yet to curb their ancient ways. They can't pillage indiscriminately anymore, but they can wander where they will."

"For now," Sunset said. "After all, you did say 'yet.'"

Now it was Vesper's turn to smirk. "Yes. I did, didn't I?" She laughed softly. "You will keep my secret, won't you? I wouldn't want my real identity to get out."

"Is there any reason why I should keep your secret?" Sunset asked. "Why should I lie to my host?"

"You do want a ship to carry you across the sea, don't you?" Vesper responded. "Prince Rutherford can't give you one."

"And you won't if I go opening my mouth?" Sunset muttered. Crude blackmail. I really am looking in a mirror.

"You can't expect to spill my secret, something that you know is important to me, without repercussions," Vesper informed her. "And besides, what do you really owe Prince Rutherford?"

"Less than I owe to Ruby or Cinder," Sunset said. "I won't lie to them."

"You don't have to, as long as they can keep a secret," Vesper said airily. "They can keep a secret, can't they?"

"Yes," Sunset declared. "If it's the right kind of secret."

"This secret is the key to your success; what could be more right than that?" Vesper inquired.

"Nothing," Sunset admitted.

"That's what I thought too. I'm glad we agree."

"On this, anyway," Sunset replied. "Can I ask you something else?"

"You can ask."

"What made you leave Atlas and come to this part of the world? You cannot have already had dreams of queenship?"

Vesper chuckled. "A story for another time, perhaps."

Sunset's eyebrows rose.

"Don't look at me like that," Vesper said. "As if you've told me all your secrets. Why do you want to go to Anima so badly?"

Sunset shook her head. "A story for another time," she murmured.

"Exactly," Vesper declared, rising smoothly to her feet.

All of this, as far as Sunset was concerned, proved her right: Sunset Shimmer – the other Sunset Shimmer, the one presently calling herself Vesper Radiance – could not be trusted.

And yet, they could not succeed without her, if not assistance, then at least cooperation.

What, oh what, are we to do?

Ruby had never been particularly keen on the company of strangers.

Often, she accepted, they turned out to be perfectly fine and decent people, but it was just that effort to break through the ice that first time that was so difficult. Yang had talked about Ruby coming out of her shell, but the truth was that it felt as though she was having to 'come out of her shell' anew every single time, and it never really got easier.

Okay, it was easier with some people than with others; it had been fine with Yona, and she seemed to be – she hoped she was – getting on okay with her cousin. However, in the big, expansive, smoke-filled hall where rushes lay upon the floor and fire billowed out of the great hearth, it seemed like this was one of the harder times. The hall was loud; the sounds of dogs barking and growling and fretting their meat mingled with a minstrel's song and the laughter of Prince Rutherford and the thegn's housecarls. The thegn's grandchildren, a young boy and girl, ran up and down the hall, playing with Yona's little siblings.

Ruby sat with Yona near the bottom of the table, and opposite them sat Sunsprite. Ruby was pretty certain that Sunsprite especially – and maybe Yona, too – could have claimed a place much higher up the table, maybe next to the thegn himself, but she appreciated that her cousin hadn't done so.

"You do not care for these entertainments?" Sunsprite asked. She had an old-fashioned manner about her that reminded Ruby a little of Pyrrha, but possibly even more formal and correct.

"Parties are okay, with friends," Ruby said. "But by myself, I guess I just don't see the point."

"Ruby not by self," Yona reminded her. "Ruby with Yona."

Ruby winced apologetically. "I'm sorry, Yona; I didn't mean it like that. I just meant-"

Yona smiled. "Ruby no need say sorry. Yona understand. Yona not like this kind of party much either."

"No?" Ruby asked.

Yona shook her head. "Yona here because Uncle Prince Rutherford is Yona's uncle, and Uncle Prince Rutherford not have children. But Yona not like it. Hall too hot, and grown-ups too loud."

A gale of laughter from the drunken housecarls further up the table punctuated and confirmed Yona's remark.

Sunsprite threw back a cup of something. "You are too young, Yona, but to you, Ruby, I suggest that you drink some wine. "

Ruby frowned. "Will that quiet everything down?"

"Drink enough, and you will hear nothing at all," Sunsprite promised.

"I'm not sure my Dad would like that," Ruby replied. "Or Sunset, either."

"Perhaps not," Sunsprite agreed. "I would apologise for bringing you, but in truth, my motives were far from selfless. I find these dinners as tedious as the two of you, but as an officer of the Sun Queen, I cannot escape them. I thought that you might make it more bearable."

"Me?" Ruby repeated. "What are you expecting me to do?"

"I thought that talking about our family might be more pleasant than listening to the thegn of Winstad tell again the story of the ursa he slew in his youth," Sunsprite said.

As if on cue, the old, white-bearded thegn rose to his feet. He held a cup in one hand and swayed unsteadily. "I am reminded of the day, long ago in the flower of my youth, when I killed an ursa! With a twig!"

"The first time I heard this tale, it was his father's axe," Sunsprite muttered.

Ruby smiled, reminded a little of Professor Port and his stories at Beacon. But thinking of Beacon made her sad, and her smile faded as the memories of those halcyon days when the world seemed so much safer and yet, at the same time, boundless in its infinite possibilities, came flooding back to her.

"Is Ruby okay?" asked Yona solicitously.

"Sure," Ruby reassured her. "I just… I thought about… the past, for a second. I guess you don't have to be old to look back and wish that things had stayed the way they were before."

"Indeed not," Sunsprite said. "But time stalks us more relentlessly than any beowolf, and it will make us strangers to the world before it brings us down. My grandfather – our grandfather – no longer recognises this land. It is no longer the place he was born into. It has become a foreign country to him. No doubt, our grandchildren will say the same of us, if we have grandchildren." She paused. "I don't suppose that there is any prospect of that on your side of the family?"

Ruby laughed nervously. "No," she said. "There… there was a boy, at Beacon, but…"

Sunsprite leaned forward. "But?"

"He was happy with someone else," Ruby said. "Someone sweet and kind and caring. It would have been too cruel to her to try and take him away."

"And there was no one else?" Sunsprite asked.

"No," Ruby repeated. "Why?"

"It is a pity," Sunsprite muttered. "Grandfather would have been glad to hear it otherwise, and I would have enjoyed the respite from his nagging on the subject."

Ruby covered her mouth as she giggled. "So nothing at your end either, huh?"

"Guns are easier to understand than the men of Freeport," Sunsprite said darkly.

"Weapons are easier to understand than people, period," Ruby replied. She hesitated. "So, was grandfather a warrior too?"

"He was," Sunsprite said. "Before the years took him. When we get to Freeport, I will show you his sword and his axe."

"He fought with a sword and an axe?" Ruby asked.

"One in each hand," Sunsprite confirmed. "He attempted to teach me to do the same, but I prefer a knife in my off-hand, in case the grimm get too close."

"It's better to keep them at a distance though, right?" Ruby said.

"Of course," Sunsprite agreed. She tapped her eyepatch with her forefingers. "Although, that isn't always possible."

"So," Ruby said, "has our family always fought the grimm? I know what you said, but… has anyone from the Rose family ever wanted to do something else?"

"Are you asking me if we have a distant relative who is a carpenter?" Sunsprite asked.

"I'm asking if we've always been warriors," Ruby explained.

"To my knowledge," Sunsprite said. "To the knowledge passed down from my grandfather, who had it from his grey-haired elders, who had it – I presume – from theirs."

"But who did they fight for, before the Sun Queen came?" Ruby asked. "Who did you fight for? Were you part of a clan like the Frost Mountain clan?"

"Sunsprite never part of Frost Mountain Clan," Yona insisted stoutly. "But before Sunsprite become Ranger, Sunsprite used to help Frost Mountain Clan sometimes. Yona remember when Yona small. Sunsprite have two eyes then."

Sunsprite snorted. "Indeed. That is the answer: we of the Rose family were never part of any clan, nor were we truly part of any settlement-"

"I thought you said you grew up in New Lancaster?" Ruby pointed out.

"My mother went there to give birth and stayed there because I was too small to move," Sunsprite said. "We had no roots there and would have put down none. Our line has never had a clan or town or lord to fight for."

"Then how do you know who to fight?"

"We fought the enemies of humanity."

"But how do you know where to do it?"

Sunsprite shrugged. "Wherever would pay. Wherever we felt someone was in need. How is it in the kingdoms?"

"It's kind of like that; huntsmen get a lot of room to do their own thing," Ruby answered, wondering if Silver-Eyed Warriors had been the inspiration for huntsmen. "But the Council or Professor Ozpin can ask huntsmen to do certain things, go to certain places, if they need to."

"Like the Queen's Rangers?" Sunsprite asked.

"Not really, but… kind of, I guess," Ruby offered. "You seem more like Altesian soldiers." She hesitated for a moment. "Why is it that we never put down roots, settled anywhere?"

"There are too few of us for that," Sunsprite declared. "How can we protect humanity if we are not willing to venture away from home? It is best to have no home and be free to go where you are needed."

"That might be why there aren't very many of us left," Ruby pointed out. "Did there used to be more?"

"Yes, but not for many generations, as I understand it," Sunsprite said. "I think our family used to be larger, but… battle and death winnowed down our numbers."

"Is that how your mother died too?" Ruby asked.

"I… I imagine so," Sunsprite murmured. "She left… and did not return. It is… our fate, it seems. Just as it may be our fate to be the last of our line."

"We're still young," Ruby protested. "I'm only sixteen, and you're…"

"Twenty-one," Sunsprite supplied.

"That's not that old," Ruby said.

Sunsprite snorted indignantly. "Grandfather sees it with even less charity. I think, sometimes, he would prefer a broodmare to a warrior for a granddaughter."

Ruby sighed. "Hey, Sunsprite? If our family never settled down before, what made you want to become a Ranger?"

"Yona like to know that too. Yona used to like Sunsprite."

Sunsprite smiled wryly. "Does Yona remember that when Sunsprite came to the aid of the Frost Mountain Clan against the grimm, Sunsprite was the best warrior on the field that day?"

"Yona not see for Yona's self, but Uncle Prince Rutherford impressed," Yona admitted.

"Who will come to the aid of the clans when I am gone?" Sunsprite asked. "Ruby and I are the last of our kind."

"We're not dead yet," Ruby reminded her.

"Is there anyone amongst your company whom you would give yourself too, to bear their children?"

"No," Ruby admitted.

"No," Sunsprite agreed. "And even if we did, both of us… there are so few of us, too few. A single family of only two branches. The time of destined warriors has passed. The Sun Queen is right. For the sake of our survival, we must do as the kingdoms do: we must become our own kingdom, with rules and order and defences. Defences like the Queen's Rangers. Our world is ending, but the Sun Queen is making a new world in which those who dwell here may survive, may thrive even. And that is worth fighting for. That… that is even worth dying for, I would say."

"And so would I," Ruby agreed. "Every time."

Where Are You Going?

Where Are You Going?

The Frost Mountain Clan wound their way across the landscape in a great caravan, wagons rumbling towards their destination, pulled by patient oxen and strong draught horses, or else by mules which were rather harder to manage. Cattle and sheep were driven along the sides of the wagon train, while men and women in their prime, and children old and strong enough to keep up the pace, walked beside the wooden carts, driving beasts or keeping an eye open for any sign of grimm. The elderly, the sick, and the infirm rode in the wagons, subjected to the bumps of the sometimes uneven surface but at least not forced to walk.

Sunsprite’s Rangers rode up and down the flanks of the column, their cloaks of green and brown billowing behind them as they rode, constantly on patrol, always on the lookout. They were joined by some of the Frost Mountain Clan ahorse, including Prince Rutherford, but it was clear to Sunset that the mounts of the Rangers were superior and that they were superior riders also.

The road down which the convoy travelled was, at least, an actual road and not just a route through the countryside down which they had decided to travel. At times, it even looked like a real road, albeit one of some antiquity, with cracked paving stones lying in a straight column pointing eastwards; at times, there were no stones, but the ground was flat, and that flatness had been driven through the landscape against its will.

“This road was laid down by the first Valish colonists to cross the mountains,” Sunsprite explained. She and Vesper and a few others of their Ranger party rode at the head of the column, and for the moment, they had summoned Sunset up to the head of the column too, so that they might speak with her. “They carved a road all across the landscape as far as the sea, with the intent that they would found forts and settlements all along it, bases from which they could spread out north and south.”

“Did it work?” Sunset asked. Colonisation efforts in the east fell into a sort of grey area between Ancient and Modern History that had not really been covered in the curriculum either at Beacon – in the year that she had actually attended Beacon – or Canterlot. More recent expansion efforts, like the attempt to establish Mountain Glenn as the base for renewed colonisation of the east, formed part of Modern History, but the events that Sunsprite was describing were at once too modern to be ancient and too ancient to be modern; as such, they found no purchase in either course.

“For a time,” Sunsprite said. “Many roads diverge from this, and some of the towns that were founded along them yet survive, but the great cities they meant to establish… those could not be sustained. There were not enough soldiers to man the forts, and the great cities were hard to feed, harder to defend against the grimm, and brought little value to the kingdom on the other side of the mountains. The lord who held these lands retreated, and only a few stubborn souls remained behind to eke out lives amidst the hardship and the grimm.” She paused. “They returned, many years later, as did the men of the east who crossed the sea in their tall ships. The men from the west said the land had always been theirs; the men from the east said that the land belonged to no one before they came. Neither side considered that it had belonged to those already dwelling in it.”

“So which side did they fight on?” Sunset asked. This was another topic that Doctor Oobleck had not covered; indeed, he had – more through ignorance than malice, Sunset was sure – presented these eastern lands as being uninhabited, or so much so as made no difference, virgin land to be taken by either Vale or Mistral, whichever had the strength to claim them. The idea that there had been a network of towns and settlements, that there had been clans wandering across the east, all of this was completely alien to her.

Sunsprite frowned. “The towns and villages divided. Some fought for the west, others for the east, depending on where they lay and how far the colonists had gotten. The clans fought for the westerners, where they fought at all; they sought to rule, but the men from the east would have made slaves of them, while the west did not go so far. Nevertheless, I cannot but think it for the best that, when the war ended, neither east nor west could settle in these lands. I cannot believe they would have kept their word to those who dwelt here.”

“And yet you support the making of a kingdom,” Sunset murmured.

“Our kingdom, fashioned by our people,” Sunsprite declared sharply. “It is not the same thing as being forced into the realm of others.”

Sunset did not argue that point. “And who did the Silver-Eyed Warriors fight for?”

“For neither side,” Sunsprite said. “We fought, as we had always fought, to defend humanity, to stave off the ravages of the grimm drawn by the clamour of the armies.”

“A worthy goal,” Sunset said softly.

“For which we paid dearly,” Sunsprite replied bitterly.

“No doubt,” Sunset muttered. She looked away from the Rangers who rode beside her, looking down upon her. She focussed her attention instead upon the road that lay before them all. “Does this road have a name?” she asked, as they passed the worn down stump of an ancient milestone indicating a certain distance travelled along the highway.

“It is called the Via Crocea Mors,” Sunsprite said. “I do not know why.”

Crocea Mors. Like Jaune’s sword. Jaune - or rather, Jaune’s family - had named the blade after the famous sword once carried by the Duke of Westmorland and his heirs, descendants of the royal line. That made sense, to Sunset at least; a prosperous noble family of that sort would have been well-placed to spearhead an effort to drive the kingdom eastward. To have named the road after their sword, though… the clans had probably been here before them; perhaps, it had been a violent process to drive this road towards the sea.

That, however, was hardly Sunset’s concern. Those who had made this road, those who might have opposed the building of it, they were all long gone, and their bones were dust. What concerned Sunset more was the present and the living.

“Miss Rose,” she said, “may I ask you a question?”

“'Miss Rose'?” Sunsprite repeated. “Why the sudden lapse into formality, Miss Shimmer?”

“Because I should like to know,” Sunset said, “just what are your intentions towards Ruby?”

Sunsprite blinked rapidly in confusion. Then, when she appeared to have gotten over her confusion somewhat, her eyebrows rose in bemusement. “My intentions?”

“Ruby is a very trusting girl, and very eager to discover a new branch of her family that she never knew existed,” Sunset explained. “I would not be pleased if you turned out to be abusing that trust in order to gain something out of her.”

Sunsprite snorted angrily. “And tell me, Miss Shimmer, what is it that you think I stand to gain from my young cousin?”

“I’m not sure,” Sunset admitted. “Nothing, I hope. I merely want to be sure that your intentions are as pure as Ruby’s heart.”

“My intention is to reunite Ruby with her family,” Sunsprite replied. “Does that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“You seem to have trouble remembering that you are not her family,” Sunsprite declared.

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “I know exactly what I am to Ruby. I care about her a great deal.”

“But your eyes are not silver,” Sunsprite reminded Sunset, as though she might have forgotten. “Her blood calls out to mine, not to yours. Your name is not Rose; mine is. I am her family. You are no longer needed. Is that what troubles you?”

'No longer needed'? Sunset bared her teeth as her ears flattened down on top of her head. “People rarely talk to me like that.”

“In Vale, that may be so,” Sunsprite conceded, “but this is not Vale, and you are no one here.”

'No one'? “Now listen to me, you little one-eyed-”

“Captain,” Vesper said, cutting Sunset off, “it is discourteous to bait a guest so.”

“Is it not also discourteous to question my intentions thus?” Sunsprite demanded.

“Perhaps, but the Queen is fond of courtesy,” Vesper pointed out. She swung herself down out of the saddle of her horse. “Miss Shimmer - Sunset - if I may, walk with me.” She grabbed her mount by the bridle and turned it back and away from the direction in which the Rangers and the column moved, so that she was walking back down the side of the wagon train in the direction they had come.

Sunset fell in beside her. It wasn’t as though she had much choice; it was clear that Sunsprite Rose had little more intention of having words with her, and if they did have further words, then it was possible that Sunset would get angry enough to do something she would regret later.

Especially since Sunsprite was absolutely right about everything. Ruby didn’t need her anymore. She had her cousin now, a whole new part of her family had just been opened up to her; she had someone who could teach her about her family, about her history, about the legacy of the Silver Eyes. The last thing she needed was an ersatz big sister who only knew how to let her down.

I forgot that Celestia wasn’t my mother, and I paid dearly for that mistake; I should have remembered that, and learnt from it, when it came to Ruby.

She doesn’t need me anymore. Does anybody need me, except maybe Cinder? Does Professor Ozpin even need me? I told Professor Goodwitch that I would seek to give this quest to Ruby, and I have… was there really any need for me to come along? I could have sent Ruby eastward, with her father, and remained behind to face the strange grimm that pursued us.

What am I doing?

What am I now?

Who am I now?

“Sunsprite… can be a little too honest, at times,” Vesper said apologetically. “She can be courteous in speech, but she cannot hide her opinions. And, in fairness to her, you gave the first offence.”

“By being concerned about my friend?” Sunset asked.

“When Sunsprite has done nothing to warrant your concern, yes,” Vesper said. “I do not know whether her assessment of your motives was correct, but you made it easy to assume that was the case.”

Sunset snorted. Perhaps it was. “Does it matter so much to you that we dislike one another?”

“I would have us be friends,” Vesper declared. “I would not fall out with myself.” She chuckled. “Have you considered that Sunsprite might be as protective of Ruby as you are? There are few enough Silver-Eyed Warriors left in the world, to find another… it is as important to her as it is to Ruby.”

Sunset scowled. She hadn’t thought of it that way, and she felt mulish for having failed to do so. “I… I suppose so. Should I apologise?”

“There is no need for that,” Vesper assured her. “But for now, Sunsprite and I would like to speak to your companions, to examine them, and make sure that they are not… that they can be trusted,” she settled on. “Will you bring up…” - she paused for a moment, considering whom she would like to speak to first - “Cinder Fall?”

Cinder’s gaze flickered between Sunsprite Rose and the one calling herself Vesper Radiance. The one who was really Sunset, the Sunset native to this world of Remnant. The Sun Queen of Freeport.

Cinder’s gaze flickered to her because it was with her that true power lay. The only reason it did not remain there was because she did not want to reveal that fact, and so, she forced herself to focus some attention on the place where power ought to have been presumed to lie.

By Sunset’s own admission, Vesper knew not only that Sunset knew but meant to share that knowledge with at least some of the company, those she trusted most. But there might be some advantage to be gained from appearing not to know.

Certainly, Cinder had no intention of telling either of these two all that she knew. Others might be more willing to talk, but she was not. They were all fortunate that only some of their group – Cinder, Ruby, Sunset herself, Taiyang, and Cardin – knew about Professor Ozpin and his miraculous gift. Others knew too much, courtesy of Emerald, but they would be able to keep some secrets, at least.

“Why are you travelling eastward?” Sunsprite asked.

The corner of Cinder’s lip twitched upwards. “Has Sunset not told you?”

“I have spoken with Sunset and with Ruby,” Sunsprite declared. “Now I speak with you.”

“And I say that I don’t know what more I can add,” Cinder replied. “Surely, Sunset has told you that we travel east and seek a ship to carry us further eastward still, across the sea to Anima.”

“Why?”

“Because there are some friends of Sunset and Ruby’s in Mistral, and they are anxious to see them again.”

“Friends to whom you must travel in secret?” Sunsprite asked.

“We have enemies; I do not deny that,” Cinder said. “We are… we are huntsmen, after all; it is our fate to be ever surrounded by foes.”

“But the grimm seldom pursue individuals,” Sunsprite replied. She stared down at Cinder with her one visible silver eye. “Who are these friends across the water whom you are so anxious to meet?”

“I doubt you know them,” Cinder said casually, “but their names are Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos.”

“This is a large company to visit friends,” Vesper pointed out.

“The world has grown perilous, and the road moreso,” Cinder reminded her. “Is it not the case here, also?”

“Indeed,” Vesper conceded. “And yet… you called these two friends of Sunset and Ruby. They are not your friends, are they?”

Cinder cursed inwardly. The other Sunset had caught her out. “I confess… I have no special love for them.”

“And yet, here you are, risking your life on a journey down a fell road to bring others to their side,” Sunsprite observed. “Why?”

Cinder was silent a moment. “For Sunset,” she declared. “She… helped me, when no one else would. I owe her a great deal for that.” Even my life, whatever my life amounts to now.

“There is much that you are not saying,” Sunsprite said.

“There is much that you do not need to know,” Cinder replied. “Why are you so curious about the doings of a small group of strangers who will be gone from your lives before you know it?”

“How do we know that is really true?” Sunsprite asked.

“Put us on a boat,” Cinder suggested. “If we come back, you’ll know we were lying.”

“Your loyalty is perhaps more to be praised than your honesty,” Vesper said.

“Why thank you,” Cinder replied cheerfully. No one had ever praised her honesty, while praises for her loyalty were few and far between.

Neither Sunsprite nor Vesper said anything in response to that. Eventually, Sunsprite requested, “Ask the outcast from the Fall Forest Clan to come up here.”

Sami scowled up at Sunsprite Rose, who in turn looked down on Sami from the top of her horse.

She didn’t see why the woman couldn’t get down off the back of her horse and speak to Sami face to face, like equals. Sunset might think that she was better than Sami, but at least she never got up onto a damn horse and physically looked down her nose at Sami like this.

“You are a long way from home, child of the Fall Forest Clan,” Sunsprite observed.

“My name is Sami,” she grunted, “and I’m not part of the Fall Forest Clan anymore.”

“You wear clan tattoos.”

“Tattoos are hard to get off,” Sami replied. And besides, in Vale where nobody had known what, exactly, they meant, they had made her look tough and intimidating.

“As I understand it,” said the one called Vesper Radiance, “once you are born into the clan, you are part of the clan for life.”

“Does that apply even if you kill your father, the chieftain of the clan?” Sami demanded. “In your understanding?”

“I imagine it might make you eligible for punishment under clan law,” Sunsprite observed.

Sami snorted. “I thought it was the Sun Queen’s law that held sway now.”

“The Sun Queen rules over these lands and upholds the peace within them,” Sunsprite declared, “but the clans are permitted to manage their own affairs, as they did before.”

“Are they permitted to cross the mountains as they did before?” Sami snapped. “Are they permitted to make the blood sacrifices to the old gods, as they did before?”

“The Sun Queen would prefer that all the clans remain within her territory,” Sunsprite said softly, “and the most barbaric practices have been stamped out.”

“Good for you,” Sami said. “I can’t imagine that was popular.”

“I can imagine that a little favour might be restored by the return of a fugitive,” Sunsprite said softly.

Sami’s hand drifted towards her knife. “You didn’t take long to get to threats, did you?”

“Peace amongst the clans - and their continued loyalty to the Sun Queen - is the queen’s highest concern,” Vesper said. “That loyalty might be strengthened by a benevolent gesture.”

Sami grinned. “Unless what?”

“What makes you think there is an 'unless'?” Sunsprite asked.

“Because if you were just going to hand me over to my people to be put to death, you wouldn’t be telling me about it,” Sami growled. “So what do you want?”

Sunsprite was quiet for a moment. “Cinder Fall told us very little,” she admitted. “She is too loyal to Sunset, and Sunset… does not trust me.”

Sami chuckled. “Sunset’s jealous is what she is.”

“Of my relationship with Ruby?” Sunsprite asked.

Sami nodded. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sunsprite confirmed. “But… you have come on a long journey, Sami, late of the Fall Forest Clan; you killed your father and fled to Vale?”

“We were already over the mountains,” Sami explained. “I just headed for those big city lights.”

“Why?”

“Why did I kill my father, or why did I make for the city?”

“Both,” Vesper elaborated.

Sami spat on the ground. “I killed my father because he needed killing. Every time we crossed the mountains, we sacrificed to the old gods for a safe journey over. One time, it was my own sister who got the knife to her throat. I wasn’t about to wait for that to happen to me. I wasn’t about to watch as it happened to anyone else. Not when I got big enough to do something about it.” She snorted. “Obviously, once I’d slit the old man’s throat, I couldn’t stay where I was. So I left. I went to the city because it would be a big enough place to hide. Somewhere no one would notice me.”

“But someone did notice you,” Vesper pointed out.

“Yeah, well,” Sami muttered, “when I reached the city, it turned out that there were more folks in the world that needed killing than just my father.”

“Who?” Sunsprite asked.

Sami shrugged. “Why do you care? Isn’t it enough for you to know that I got caught and then let out again a little later so I could do their dirty work for them?”

“Is that why you’re here?” Sunsprite asked. “Doing dirty work? Sunset says that she is on her way to Anima to visit friends.”

“Friends,” Sami replied derisively. “Maybe she does have friends in Mistral. Sunset used to be something big and special, the way I understand it-”

“'Used to be'?” Vesper interrupted. “What do you mean? In what way?”

Sami stared at Vesper. She wasn’t sure exactly who she was or why she felt the need to hide her face like a pretentious ass, but she was clearly important in some way because Sunsprite, despite being in charge, didn’t do anything about her interrupting.

“Sunset used to do important work for Ozpin, the old guy who used to run Beacon,” Sami said, choosing her words with care. She had no loyalty to Sunset Shimmer, no concern for any of Sunset’s secrets, but she wasn’t about to spill absolutely everything that she knew to these people either; she wasn’t about to tell them about magic.

They might get ideas of their own about who ought to have it. They might tell their queen about it, and she, being a queen and the kind of person who clearly wanted things, would decide that the best person to have that kind of power was herself.

“But,” Sami continued, “she messed up. Did something terrible. Got herself in prison with the rest of us until they needed her.”

“What did she do?” Sunsprite asked.

“I don’t know; they didn’t let me watch the news in solitary,” Sami said sharply. “Ask her yourself, why don’t you?”

“Perhaps I will,” Sunsprite murmured. “Are you all criminals?”

“Cardin isn’t,” Sami replied. “He’s a good boy. He’s supposed to be holding our leashes.”

“But he does not lead,” Sunsprite pointed out. “Sunset does.”

Sami shrugged. “Sunset’s the kind of person who has to be in charge.” The kind of person I liked to kill.

“I see,” Sunsprite said softly. “So where is she leading you? Not to visit friends in Mistral?”

“Like I said, there might be some,” Sami conceded. “But as far as I know, we’re going to Mistral so we can kidnap someone and bring him back to Vale.”

“Who?”

“Why, do you think you’ll know him?” Sami demanded.

“Who?” Sunsprite repeated.

“Someone named Lionheart.”

“Why?”

“Why should I care? That’s for other people to worry about,” Sami grunted.

Sunsprite stared at her out of her one working eye. Sami kind of wanted to rip the other one out and see how she stared then. She wouldn’t look so haughty blind, Sami was sure.

“Tell your friend with the shotgun that I wish to speak to him,” Sunsprite said.

“So,” Sunsprite said evenly, “you were a farmer?”

Jack scratched at the nascent beard growing under his chin. “That’s right,” he replied. “I was a farmer. Or I guess you could say I was a farm boy, although we didn’t have no man around the house after my Pa. Anyway, that was all before my land got stolen.”

“Bandits?” Sunsprite asked.

“I said stolen, not burned down,” Jack said. “Some jackass from the bank claimed we were in ‘foreclosure,’ whatever that means. They took our land and sold it to some other jackass, all dressed up with fancy law and big words and a bunch of cops. They even hired a huntsman to make sure we quit without any trouble. Which I did. I knew I couldn’t take on a huntsman. I quit the land, and I watched as they took everything that should have been mine. All they left me with was this shotgun.”

“Which you used to kill and steal,” Sunsprite declared.

“When you have a gun and no money, and someone else has money but no gun, it becomes real tempting to use the one to get hold of the other.”

“Until you got caught,” Vesper remarked.

“And now I’m out again,” Jack reminded her.

“Indeed,” Sunsprite said. “But to what purpose? You were released to defend Vale, but here you are, so far from Vale, moving across our lands, heading further eastward still. What waits for you in Anima?”

“Nothing’s waiting for me in Anima but a chance to get myself killed,” Jack muttered. “You have a need for good farmers in this country? Round this Freeport place? Everyone needs to eat, right? Even city folk.”

“Indeed, and Freeport eats much,” Sunsprite agreed. “Fed by the farms beyond the walls and by the villages around about who bring their crops to market in the city.” She paused. “Would you be a farmer again? Would you put aside your gun and take up the plough one more?”

“Sure I would,” Jack said. “Fast as anything. I don’t know if I’d throw my gun away – I’d like to keep it handy in case more lawyers show up – but I wouldn’t mind getting back to the way I lived. I never wanted to be a huntsman or any other kind of warrior. I was forced into this way of living, by the government, twice over. I’d turn my back on it, and Sunset Shimmer and Mister Cardin Winchester and all the rest this minute if I could.”

“Are you offering to betray your comrades for a farm?” Sunsprite asked, her tone mingling curiosity and disgust in equal measure.

“Betrayal is a hard word,” Jack replied. “I’m not going to shoot them while they sleep or nothing. But I’m not going to keep their secrets for them, neither.”

Why should he? What did he owe them, any of them? They had plucked him out of jail, given him his gun back, and forced him to fight for the same kingdom that had stolen his farm away from him. It wasn’t even as if they showed him any respect; Sunset had made it pretty clear that she didn’t like him. There was a hierarchy, with Sunset and Cinder on top and Sami and Jack on the bottom. Now, Jack wasn’t one to need to climb up vines - he’d steal when he had no other recourse - but if he was offered the chance to make an honest living on some good honest land, then he’d take it and be damned to Sunset and all the rest. He was being offered his dream. Why should he turn it down for the chance to keep risking his life for those who wouldn’t miss him if he were gone?

Sunsprite’s eye narrowed. “And what secrets do you think you know, that we do not?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “What do you think is going on here?”

“I think that you are on your way to Mistral to apprehend a man named Lionheart,” Sunsprite said.

“True enough,” Jack conceded. “But do you know why?”

“According to your friend Sami, such decisions are not for those as low as you to know,” Sunsprite said.

“Oh, is that right?” Jack scoffed. “I don’t know what Sami thinks she has to gain out of all this, but she knows more than she told you.” He paused. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid if I tell you the truth, it’ll all sound a little crazy.”

“There is much that is known to me that others might find unusual, baffling, even impossible,” Sunsprite declared. “Tell me, and I will be the judge of your state of mind and of your honesty.”

“Alright,” Jack said. “You see, we used to be travelling with another girl by the name of Emerald. Now, she and Cinder Fall had a kind of history together. I don’t know all the details, but they used to be close until Cinder got all cosy with Sunset instead. Now, Cinder used to work for the Queen of the Grimm, by the name of Salem, before she grew a conscience or something and decided to quit, maybe because of Sunset, I don’t rightly know how it all happened. But I do know that Sunset used to work for Ozpin, who was fighting Salem, and they were fighting over magic, specifically four magic girls called Maidens. Now, I don’t know for sure on account of Sunset playing everything close to her chest, but I think that this fellow Lionheart is involved with Salem somehow. It’s the only thing that makes sense, right?”

“It does explain your destination,” Sunsprite said quietly. “It also explains your desire for secrecy, in every sense. I must confess that what you have said was new to me, and yet… I believe it. If nothing else, you would be a fool to make up such a tale out of nothing when you have need to convince me of your good faith.”

“And did I?” Jack asked. “Do you think you can convince them to let me go? Do you think that I… that I could stay here?”

“I think that you are correct; Freeport and the Estmorland have need of farmers,” Vesper said. “And when the Queen learns that you have been of so much more help - and so much more honest - than any of your company, she may agree that there is a place for you in the community that we are building here.”

“Now,” Sunsprite said, “ask Cardin Winchester if he will speak with us.”

Cardin was as tall as the shoulder of the horse on which Sunsprite rode, so he barely had to look up at her at all. “So, how much did Sami and Jack tell you?”

“Do you fear that they told me more than you would wish me to know?” Sunsprite demanded.

“Some things are best kept secret,” Cardin replied. “Some things, you’re better off not knowing.”

“Things like Salem?” Sunsprite suggested.

Cardin sighed. “They really told you everything, didn’t they?”

“More than Sunset or Cinder,” Sunsprite agreed. “Why?”

“Like I said, some things, you’re better off not knowing,” Cardin replied. “Some of this stuff, I wish I didn’t know. Things were easier when they were simpler.”

“When there was an enemy to fight and a people to defend,” Sunsprite murmured. “Believe me, from one captain to another, I understand you perfectly. It is for the best that the world is changing, but at the same time, there is a part of me that yearns for the simpler time in the stories spoken of by my grandfather.”

“Except the times were never really simple, were they?” Cardin asked. “We just didn’t realise what was going on around us.”

“I suppose not,” Sunsprite agreed. “You should have been honest with us from the beginning. Now that you have lied-”

“Your queen won’t help us?” Cardin interrupted.

“She may not,” Sunsprite agreed. “She may ask why she should help those who have attempted to deceive us.”

“We haven’t lied,” Cardin said. “We just… omitted a few of the irrelevant details.”

“A distinction which may be lost upon the queen,” Vesper Radiance murmured.

“What does it matter to you exactly what our mission is, whether we can get a boat or not?” Cardin demanded.

“It matters a great deal, if aiding you will bring down Salem’s wrath upon us,” Sunsprite replied. “The Rangers are tasked to their limits battling against the ordinary forces of the grimm that infest this region, protecting the towns and villages from occasional raids. If we were to come under an attack… that was the fate of Vale, was it not?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Cardin muttered. “You make it sound as though Vale fell. It didn’t; it just… you’re right: the grimm did attack Vale, in strength, and more than once. But… Vale isn’t dead. Vale survived.”

“On this occasion,” Sunsprite said.

Cardin scowled. He really wished that she hadn’t said that, and not just because she was reflecting his own fears back at him. Yes, Vale had survived; Vale had survived because of the assistance of the Atlesians and the Mistralians and all the student huntsmen in Vale for the Vytal Festival. They were all gone now, kicked out in some cases; who would be left to defend Vale if the grimm attacked again? It was only the fact that Salem already had exactly what she wanted out of Vale that meant they’d been as lucky as they had been recently. “We’ll survive somehow.”

“Freeport might not be so fortunate,” Sunsprite told him. “At least, the Queen has a right to know in what games she may become embroiled.”

“This isn’t a game,” Cardin said sharply.

“No,” Sunsprite agreed. “This is the survival of our world at stake. A kingdom is at the hazard.”

“It’s not the only one,” Cardin muttered. “And besides, do you really think Salem will leave you alone just because you didn’t help us?”

“I think that the eye of this Mistress of Darkness has not yet turned on Freeport,” Vesper replied. “And may not, not for many years hence, until this realm yet in its infancy has grown to strong and sturdy adulthood. Would the Queen be amiss, if she wished to delay this confrontation and maintain a hidden kingdom for as long as she could?”

Cardin did not reply immediately, because the only reply was to admit, “No. No, that would be the smart thing to do.”

“What of Lionheart?” Sunsprite demanded. “What is he to you? A servant of Salem?”

Cardin nodded. He didn’t see the point in trying to hide the fact. “We’re hoping that if we can grab him, we can find out what the enemy’s next move is.”

“And for that, you go in strength, and you move in secrecy,” Sunsprite said.

“Exactly. Like you said, the stakes are high.”

Sunsprite nodded.

It was Vesper Radiance, not Sunsprite Rose, who spoke next, “Does it not trouble you, to have your command usurped by Sunset Shimmer?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are supposed to be the leader of this company, are you not?” Vesper inquired. “And yet, Sunset has usurped all authority to herself, even though her life is nominally in your hands. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Cardin snorted. “There was a time when it would have, sure. There was a time when I couldn’t stand Sunset Shimmer, when I would have hated having to take orders from her, when I would have relished having authority over her. But that was because I was a stupid kid who didn’t realise what was really going on in the world around him. Now… all that matters is getting the job done, and we need the best person in charge for that.”

“And that is Sunset Shimmer?” Sunsprite asked.

“She’s a better huntsman than I am,” Cardin said honestly. “More talented, smarter… she has her flaws, but we all do. She’s been in some tough spots, and she’s managed to find her way out again.”

“And disgraced herself in the process, as I understand,” Sunsprite replied. “She was held in high honour, was she not, until she did something unforgivable and was punished for it?”

Cardin frowned. “Sunset has changed since then.”

“According to you?”

“Yes, according to me,” Cardin insisted. “Because I know her.”

“And we do not,” Sunsprite agreed. “And so, I ask you, what did she do?”

Cardin bit his lip. “Sunset… Sunset had to make a choice. She had to decide whether she wanted to sacrifice her friends for the greater good or sacrifice the greater good for the sake of her friends.”

“And she chose her friends,” Sunsprite murmured. “What did she risk?”

“It was months ago, and a lot has happened-”

“A city?” Sunsprite suggested. “Your city? Did she sacrifice Vale for the sake of those that mattered to her?”

“The city was saved,” Cardin objected.

“Why do you defend her and her actions?”

“I’m not defending her actions; I just don’t want you to think that Sunset is something other than what she is,” Cardin explained.

“And what is she?” Sunsprite asked.

“Penitent,” Cardin replied. “Remorseful. She wouldn’t make that choice again.”

“Indeed,” Sunsprite said. “Order Roman Torchwick to come here and speak with us.”

“I asked to speak only with you,” Sunsprite reminded Torchwick. “Not with your acolyte also.”

Neo signed something ending in a rude gesture which was not a necessary part of the sentence.

“Neo doesn’t talk,” Roman explained, keeping the grin off his face. “At least, not the way that you’d understand it. Unless you speak sign?”

“Not that dialect,” Sunsprite admitted.

“No,” Torchwick agreed. “Then I guess you’ll have to rely on my translation. Besides, I prefer not to let the kid too far out of my sight. There’s no telling what they’ll get up to if you leave them to their own devices, right?”

Neo rolled her eyes.

“I would not know,” Sunsprite conceded. “I have no children.”

“Aw, don’t beat yourself up about that, toots; you’ve got years left in you for that,” Torchwick said. “Why, I once knew a woman, real driven career type, left it until she was forty to settle down and start thinking about children, but when she did, boy, did they start flying out so fast that it was-”

“Who are you, Roman?” Sunsprite demanded, cutting him off.

“Well, darling-”

“My name is Sunsprite Rose. I am a Captain in the Queen’s Rangers.”

“Right you are, Ms. Rose,” Torchwick agreed. “Please, forgive me. As I was saying, I’m a thief. A gentleman thief when I can be, and a vicious thug when I can’t. Also a raconteur, bon vivant, and a connoisseur of fine cigars. Although I seem to have run out at the moment, which is annoying.”

Neo found it amusing, judging by the smirk on her face. She’d been trying to get him to quit for years.

“How is it that such a man as you ended up involved in this enterprise?” Sunsprite asked.

Neo signed that he, Torchwick, had gotten suckered by a pretty face. Sadly, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Torchwick laughed nervously. “A lady in red made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. And at the time, I didn’t want to.”

“Cinder?” Sunsprite guessed.

“Good guess, swee- I mean, great catch, Captain! You have to admit, she’s one hell of a woman,” Torchwick confirmed. “Sadly… I’m not exactly her type.”

Neo pointed out that she could have told him that when Cinder first walked into their den. And she had.

“Your companion seems to have something to say,” Sunsprite observed.

“Neo likes pointing out my mistakes,” Torchwick explained.

Neo informed him that he wouldn’t learn from them otherwise.

“But I’ll survive,” Torchwick continued. “It’s what I do, after all. Whether it’s on the mean streets or… here, it’s all the same. Sometimes, the things you do to stay alive seem counterintuitive, but the fact is that you do what you’ve gotta do to survive, right?”

“And to keep others alive also,” Sunsprite declared pointedly.

Torchwick glanced at Neo. “Yeah,” he agreed, because what was the point in denying it at this point? Had he ever really fooled anyone with that act? “Them too.”

Sunsprite nodded. “I would speak with the one called Bon Bon next.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Vesper said. “One of you was a servant of Salem, the Queen of the Grimm, but the other was not?”

“I was; Lyra wasn’t,” Bon Bon confirmed. “I… didn’t really know that’s what I was, if it makes any difference. Either way, Lyra had no part in my mistakes.”

“I made enough of my own mistakes,” Lyra muttered. “Starting with attending Beacon.”

Sunsprite frowned. “You regret your choice to dedicate yourself to the protection of the world?”

“I wasn’t cut out for it,” Lyra admitted. She had not been summoned, but she had joined Bon Bon nevertheless, and when it became clear that she had no intention of going anywhere else, her presence had been accepted as making things a little quicker. “I didn’t have the skills… or the commitment. I wasn’t prepared for the reality behind the image.”

“That sounds like it could be said of either of you,” Sunsprite declared. “One who wanted to be a hero, one who only half-understood that they were - for want of a better word - a villain, neither prepared for the amount of hard work involved, the commitment that it would demand, the sacrifices that it would ask of her.”

Lyra and Bon Bon looked at one another. “Yeah… that about sums it up, I think,” Lyra admitted. “I wanted to do my part to protect the world, but ultimately… I didn’t have the chops or the ability to work hard enough to get them. I thought that Beacon was going to make me a hero, but when I found out that there were no shortcuts to getting there… I latched onto what I thought was a thing that I could do, a thing that only we could do, something that Sunset and Ruby and all the other teams that were so far above us in every way couldn’t. Only… it turned out to not be the right thing to do. In fact, it turned out to be the very worst thing that we could have done.”

“You only wanted to make a difference in the world,” Bon Bon said. “Or at the very least, to one girl’s life. There’s no… you can’t blame yourself too much. You should blame me; I knew what was going on and did nothing about it.”

“Why?” Sunsprite asked. “For what reason did you forsake your allegiance, abandon your kingdom, turn your back upon your comrades?”

Bon Bon looked away. “Lyra wanted to help protect the world,” she said. “I wanted to change it.”

“Understandable,” Vesper said softly.

“And now?” Sunsprite asked. “Is it redemption that you seek upon this road?”

“Lyra doesn’t need redemption,” Bon Bon insisted.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” Lyra said. It was a gentle reproach, but it was a reproach all the same. “I betrayed Beacon, I betrayed what huntsmen are supposed to stand for; the fact that I didn’t really get that at the time… it makes me stupid, not innocent.” She looked at Sunsprite. “I told Sunset that I would help put the kingdom of Vale back together after I helped to break it, and that’s what I’ll do. I don’t like her very much, but I trust her judgement more than I trust my own. I’ll fight with her, if she’ll have me.”

“A brave choice, from someone who admits that they are not so skilled as others are,” Sunsprite declared, “and that declaration is, in itself, a brave choice.” She glanced at Bon Bon. “And you?”

“I’ll stand with Lyra,” Bon Bon said. “Whatever choice she makes.”

Sunsprite smiled, if only slightly. “Whatever you have done, your loyalty, it seems, cannot be faulted. Please ask Ruby’s father if he will come and have words with me.”

“I have learned much that has surprised me of late, sir,” Sunsprite said to Taiyang. “Much that concerns me, and no doubt, it will concern my queen also.”

Taiyang’s blue eyes narrowed a little. “You know the truth… about Salem?”

“It was not news to you, clearly,” Sunsprite said.

“No,” Taiyang admitted. “Did you think that Sunset and Ruby were the first ones recruited by Ozpin to help him fight against her?”

“You… and Summer Rose,” Sunsprite murmured.

“Our whole team,” Taiyang clarified.

“Is that… is that why she did not come home?” Sunsprite asked. “Is that why she never returned to these lands?”

Taiyang felt a flash of annoyance but smiled self-deprecatingly. “Well, I’d like to think that I had something to do with it, but… yeah. Once Summer knew the truth, she understood that this evil had to be fought, that someone had to do something… and she was as qualified to do something as anyone, and more than most.”

“I have heard stories of her skill in arms.”

“It’s not just that,” Taiyang said. “It wasn’t justthat.” He sometimes caught himself doing that, referring to Summer as though she were still alive. “She could… she could inspire others, lead them, draw them together with a common purpose.” Only on Raven had those gifts failed, and even then… it had been so close. “She was… Summer was very special.”

“It was in her nature to be special; she was of the silver eyes,” Sunsprite said. “That said… my grandfather has told me that Aunt Summer was close to unique even amongst us.”

“Not unique,” Taiyang said. “So much of Summer lives on in her daughter. And I’m not just talking about her eyes. Ruby… she has her mother’s heart, too.”

“Is that why you let her risk her life in this endeavour?” Sunsprite asked.

“Do you think I could stop her?”

“You could choose more suitable companions for her than this crew of villains,” Sunsprite said, with a touch of a growl in her voice.

“I assume you’re talking about more than just the obvious,” Taiyang said. “Let me guess: Sunset Shimmer.”

“She seems worse than all the rest put together,” Sunsprite declared.

Taiyang scratched the back of his head with one hand. “I’d be lying if I said that I couldn’t see your point, but… I know that she really cares about Ruby.”

Sunsprite did not reply to that directly. “You are a brave man, to wage this struggle against an enemy who cannot be defeated.”

“Summer was the brave one,” Taiyang said. “I… just tried to raise my girls the best I could.”

“For what it may be worth, Ruby is a fine young woman.”

“Yes,” Taiyang agreed. “Yes, she is. Summer would be proud of her.” He looked at her, this niece he’d never known he had. “I’m glad that Ruby met you. She deserves to know where her mother came from; there’s so much that I can’t tell her.”

“I am glad to have met her also,” Sunsprite declared. “In fact,” she added, as she dismounted from her horse, “will you please bring her here, sir? There is so much we have to talk about.”

Who Do You Serve?

Who Do You Serve?

The hill was stepped, putting Ruby a little in mind of Mistral, although of course, this hill was much, much smaller than the mountain upon which Pyrrha's home sat like barnacles crusted to a boat's hull. Nor was there any great city - or any town at all - upon this hill, for all that some human force had, in times gone by, carved out the earthen steps which disrupted the rising of the ground. A dozen steps, some narrow and some broad, some beginning to be overgrown with bushes and undergrowth, some still as barren and as flat as the day they had been dug, rose in their stages towards the summit of the hill, which had itself been flattened to a surface like a table top, waiting for the giant plates and goblets to be set upon it.

"It is called the King's Camp," Sunsprite explained to Ruby as they climbed the steep path that cut through the steps of the hill. "Though what king built it - or when - none can say for sure. Memory has not preserved the king's name, nor his nation, nor even whether he meant to live upon this hill in peace or war or merely to make a refuge or simply wished, as the name suggests, to make a camp here on his way to somewhere else. But in any event, whoever built it built well here."

Sunsprite walked her horse, no longer riding it, and most of her Rangers followed her example, leading their mounts by the bridle up the path while the wagons of the Frost Mountain Clan, and all the folk of that people too, followed after them.

As they climbed, getting closer towards the summit with every step, Ruby could see the remains of a ringfort built around the edges of the summit, with crumbling walls of white stone now only a few feet high, with moss and vines beginning to cover the remaining worn and weathered stone from view.

"An old place," Sunsprite admitted, "but strong. Should either grimm or vagabonds come against us here, it will be the worse for them. Rangers travelling this route rest here for the night if they can, and so do the clans that wander these roads."

Indeed, as they reached hilltop and passed through the one gap in the ringwall that Ruby was fairly certain was intentional and not a result of the stone crumbling away or being stolen, Ruby could see that the apparently flat and featureless summit was not completely devoid of evidence of more recent human presence than whoever had made the wall. The places where the wall had fallen away completely had been plugged with wooden stakes, although some of those stakes were looking a little worse for wear these days.

The tents of the Rangers sprouted upon the summit of the hill, joined soon by the wagons and the livestock of the Frost Mountain Clan. A veritable town sprang up amongst the ruins of the fort, and the fire light reflected off the white stone even as the shadows of men and beasts fell over the ruins of the walls. The Rangers picketed their horses in a long line, neighing softly to one another as they chewed upon the little hay that their riders laid out for them out of the saddle bags.

Sunsprite set sentries at each cardinal direction, and men with axes cut down trees from the forest to the south to reinforce the barriers of stakes and thorns that filled in the breaches in the wall that nature had made. A heavy wagon was rolled across the path, barring the crumbling gateway.

Sunsprite patted the neck of her brown horse and whispered words in a language that Ruby did not understand. She stroked the creature as it bent its head and began to chew upon the grass.

Sunsprite turned to face Ruby and gestured to the box that she had placed nearby. “Please, Ruby, sit down.”

“Okay,” Ruby said softly and took her seat upon the upturned crate. They were a little way off the rest, in a quiet corner of the ancient hillfort, where there was no one to watch them and no one to overhear. Well, certainly, no one to interfere; Ruby thought that Sunset might be watching, but they were so far off, it was hard to tell for sure, with all the darkness lying between them.

Vesper Radiance – or the other Sunset, which would be really confusing if Ruby thought about it for too long – sat on another box not far away. As Ruby sat, she picked up a stick from off the ground and held it in front of her.

Ruby watched as fire sprang to life in Vesper’s other hand. Or rather, fire consumed her hand; it wasn’t like a fireball in her palm, it was flames all over her hand, covering it, like a burning glove. A burning glove with which Vesper lit the torch and tossed it onto the fire. Swiftly, the other sticks piled up around it began to burn also. Sunsprite’s shadow flickered a little as it was cast upon the ground.

“I am disappointed in you, Ruby,” Sunsprite said. “I thought better of you than this.”

“Better than what?” Ruby asked. “What have I done? Did I do something wrong?”

Sunsprite looked at her. Her silver eye gleamed in the firelight. “I put my trust in our kinship, in the blood we share, in the gift that was bestowed on both of us,” she declared. “I thought that, being a Silver-Eyed Warrior as I am and sprung out of the line of Rose, my cousin, daughter of Summer Rose, that you were someone in whom I could place my trust-”

“You can!” Ruby cried. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but she didn’t want it! She didn’t want to lose this connection to her family, to her history, to her heritage! “I don’t know what anybody told you, but whatever Torchwick said, I didn’t do it! Or if I did do it, then I’ll make it up to you. Please, just give me a chance. What’s wrong? What… where is this coming from?”

“You lied to me,” Sunsprite said, each word landing with the weight of a stone falling from a great height. “By omission only, perhaps, but a lie of omission is still a lie, and a choice to omit the truth is still a choice.”

“What are you…?” Ruby trailed off, because without needing to be told she knew, with absolute certainty, what Sunsprite was talking about. “You’re talking about Sunset, aren’t you?”

“There was much that you did not tell me about she who leads your company,” Sunsprite said. Her brow furrowed. “There is much indeed that you did not tell me.”

“Well, we were mostly talking about our family.”

“Indeed,” Sunsprite agreed. “But you might have mentioned that the enemy against whom our family has fought, against whom all Silver-Eyed Warriors have striven since time immemorial, bears the name of Salem.”

Ruby’s mouth hung open. Someone… of course someone told you; too many people know by now to keep that a secret.

I’m starting to see why Professor Ozpin kept it to himself.

“We’re not supposed to tell,” Ruby said feebly.

“And yet, a group of scum and criminals know all too well,” Sunsprite declared. “You have told such villains, but you would not confide in me? Your cousin, of your own blood.”

“It’s not like that!” Ruby protested. “It’s not a question of not trusting you; it’s a question of… Sami and Jack and Torchwick aren’t supposed to know. They found out… the person who told them is dead, but they didn’t hear it from us. I know that doesn’t make it better, but I’m sorry. I… maybe I should have told you.”

“Yes,” Sunsprite said. “Very probably, you should have.” She placed one hand upon the hilt of the blade she wore upon her hip as the reflected flames danced in her silver eye, as her shadow flickered on the ground, Sunsprite seemed to grow taller, to cast a longer shadow. She was not Ruby’s cousin now, but a warrior, strong and proud. “I am a Silver-Eyed Warrior. This battle of light and darkness belongs to me as much as it does to you… and more than it does to your companions.”

“Professor Ozpin chose Sunset-” Ruby began.

“And who is Professor Ozpin to make such choices?” asked Sunsprite. “The gods chose us to fight: Silver-Eyed Warriors, chosen by fate to lead the lives of warriors. This is our battle, not theirs. It belongs to you and I more than it does to Sunset Shimmer or Cardin Winchester or your friends waiting in Mistral or any other than ourselves. You should have trusted me with this.”

Ruby blinked. What Sunsprite said… what Sunsprite said made a lot of sense, but at the same time, it felt cruel to her friends to accept it after all they’d been through together. “Like you said,” she murmured, “there aren’t very many of us left. And a lot of people have done a lot to try and resist Salem. More than me. More than you.”

Sunsprite was silent for a moment. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “In any case, bound by secrecy as you felt you were, I can understand why you did not confide this in me. In truth, I am more troubled by your other secrets, by all that you concealed from me about Sunset Shimmer and about how dangerous she is.”

“Sunset?” Ruby repeated. “Sunset isn’t… well, I mean she is dangerous, but only to our enemies.”

“To whose enemies?” Sunsprite asked. “To your enemies? To Ozpin’s enemies? To the enemies of humanity? Or to the enemies of her own desires and ambitions?”

Ruby blinked. Her brow furrowed. “You already know, don’t you?”

“I know some of it,” Sunsprite replied, “and what I know makes me… uneasy. I know that Sunset was prepared to sacrifice a kingdom to save her friends; is that not so?”

“She’s not like that any more,” Ruby protested.

“Is it not so?” Sunsprite asked again.

“Sunset understands that what she did was wrong-”

“Is it not so?”

“She’s trying to be a better person-”

“Is it not so?!”

“Yes!” Ruby cried. “Yes, yes, it’s exactly like that. We were down in the tunnels, and we were on a train, and Sunset had a chance to stop it, but… but she didn’t.” Ruby bowed her head, her hair falling down around her face. “But she didn’t,” she repeated. “Sunset… Sunset was willing to let all of Vale die to save us.”

Silence descended upon the three of them. Neither Sunsprite nor Vesper said anything in reply. The firelight crackled.

“How many people dwell in Vale, in your western kingdom?” Sunsprite asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Ruby confessed. “Hundreds of thousands? Maybe millions? I don’t know. I didn’t pay too much attention to that stuff.” She chuckled darkly. “Some protector of humanity, huh? I can’t even tell you how big humanity is.”

“Better that than a so-called protector of humanity who will condemn a great mass of humanity,” Vesper muttered.

“Sunset… Sunset’s not the person she was then.”

“But she was that person, at one time?” Sunsprite demanded. “The kind of person who would sacrifice a city – her own city – to save those dear to her. Ruby, I am not only your cousin. I am a Silver-Eyed Warrior, destined to stand between humanity and that which would destroy it, and that alone would give me cause to keep one hand upon my sword around Sunset Shimmer… but I am also a Captain of the Queen’s Rangers, pledged to the service of Freeport and the Sun Queen. You can see how this news concerns me.”

“Yes,” Ruby admitted. “But Sunset… she wouldn’t do that now. She’s changed.”

“Why?” Sunsprite asked. “How do you know?”

“Because…” Ruby hesitated. “Because she told me that she had.”

Sunsprite knelt down in front of her. “Did she tell you immediately what she had done, on the train?”

“No,” Ruby admitted. “She… she didn’t tell anyone, she-”

“Lied to you about it?” Sunsprite suggested.

Ruby’s mouth felt very dry. To put it like that sounded very harsh, and yet… and yet, it was completely accurate. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft and small and quiet. “She lied to me about it.”

“She lied to you, she betrayed your trust and everything that you are supposed to be fighting for,” Sunsprite said, her own voice soft in turn, as though she were breaking bad news to a child. “And yet, you trust her when she says that she has changed since then?”

“She has changed,” Ruby insisted. “She hasn’t made a choice like that again.”

“Has she been faced with one on such a scale?”

“Well, there was this monster who she could have let out of his cell to save me, but she didn’t.”

“And yet here you are,” Vesper observed. “Not dead.”

“Sunset… saved me anyway,” Ruby explained.

“Hmm,” Vesper murmured. “As glad as we are that you remain alive - and as curious as I am to hear more of this monster at a later time - has Sunset ever faced a scenario without such a happy option open to her?”

“No, but I’m sure that she…” Ruby trailed off. “What are you saying?”

Sunsprite did not reply. Not for a little while. She just knelt in front of Ruby, looking into Ruby’s eyes. She reached up, and brushed a little of Ruby’s hair out of her forehead. “You are a Silver-Eyed Warrior,” she said, “but while I had my grandfather to teach me what that meant in my mother’s… absence, you had no one. So why did you want to fight? Was it merely the singing of your blood?”

“I’ve never heard my blood sing,” Ruby replied, a nervous smile crossing her features. “I didn’t know that I was destined for this. I just wanted to help people. To keep the world safe.”

“That is all we strive for, any of us,” Sunsprite said. “Most of us,” she corrected herself. “If you had been there, in Sunset’s position, you would have sacrificed yourself for the sake of the kingdom, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ruby whispered. “I mean, maybe. I hope so. I think. I… I don’t know.” She looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not ask you to apologise,” Sunsprite whispered, her voice a gentle breath of wind. “I only ask you to explain.”

Ruby closed her eyes. Just thinking about that night, just thinking about what had happened… tears began to well up in her eyes. “During the Battle of Vale… my sister and my friends, they were trapped on the wrong side of the wall, with the grimm. The gates… the gates were shut, because the grimm were too close, and they might have gotten inside the city if they’d opened them to let people through. Twilight… Twilight’s a friend of ours, from Atlas, and she… she wanted to open the gate, and I… I wouldn’t let her. I was willing to fight her over it. I said that we had to put the safety of Vale above the people we cared about. It was Sunset who saved everyone that night, not me! You ask me how I know that she’s changed, that’s how! She went out beyond the wall and joined the fight and defeated all the grimm! She didn’t open the gate or blow them open or threaten anyone to get them to open the gate because she knew she was wrong.”

“Because she knew, or thought, or presumed, that she was a match for those grimm,” Sunsprite suggested. “What would she have done if she had not believed that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Ruby admitted. “But what I do know is that… is that because of what I did, because I kept the gate closed… my sister Yang died. The grimm killed her, because she was trapped with nowhere to run because… because of me.” Ruby scrunched up her face with pain. She really didn’t want to relive that night. She really didn’t want to think about Yang dying at the paws of the grimm, being… her whole body shuddered at the idea. No, it was wracked by a sob as the tears began to flow down her cheek.

She felt a strong arm around her shoulders, rubbing her back as Sunsprite pressed Ruby’s face against her shoulder.

“I killed my sister,” Ruby sobbed. “I killed her because… because…”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Sunsprite told her. “Because you are a righteous soul, a warrior sprang out of a line of warriors, and you understand that our lives are worthless if not lived with a weapon in hand, wielding that weapon against evil in defence of innocence. You understand that we were made to sacrifice. You understand that duty comes before all else. Before family, before friendship, before love, everything.”

“What if I don’t want it to?” Ruby asked. “What if… what if I’m tired?”

“You cannot turn away from what you know to be right simply because it has taken a hard toll on you,” Sunsprite told her, “and you know that as well as I do, because you are no longer a child.” She kept on rubbing Ruby’s back. “You will see your sister again in the Hall of the Slain, where the brave live forever. The doors will open to admit you and lo! There will you see your mother and your sister and all of our line back to the beginning, and they will bid you take your place amongst them, and you will feast and drink until the end of days. That is what our people believed of old. That is what I believe. Let it comfort you to believe it too, but take heart! You must not doubt yourself. You must not believe the justifications that the likes of Sunset Shimmer pour into your ear to lessen their own guilt. You are so much stronger than she is. May I speak freely?”

Ruby pulled back, a little away from Sunsprite, so that they could look at one another. “I… I guess,” she said.

“It pains me to see you with her,” Sunsprite admitted. “She is not worthy of you.”

Ruby frowned. “Sunset… Sunset’s always looked out for me.”

“By lying to you?” Sunsprite asked. “By betraying you and everything you stand for? Why do you forgive her? Why do you defend her?”

“Because she’s all I have,” Ruby whispered. “Yang’s dead, Jaune and Pyrrha are in Mistral, if I lost Sunset-”

“You would have me,” Sunsprite declared. “Your blood, your kin, your family.”

Someone who understands me; all things that Sunset can never be. Ruby frowned. The thought was treacherous, but not… but not wrong. “Why are you saying all this? What do you want from me?”

“I want understanding,” Sunsprite told her. “You understand why I am concerned about allowing Sunset Shimmer anywhere near Freeport.”

“Sunset wouldn’t do anything to harm your city,” Ruby said.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’d stop her,” Ruby said, her voice rising just a little. Sunset… Sunset wouldn’t do something that, and if she did… if she did, then she wouldn’t do it over Ruby’s objections… except, if she did, then Ruby… Ruby would…

Ruby would do the right thing.

She hoped.

“I am glad to hear it,” Sunsprite said. “I am glad to know that I can rely on you, my cousin, even though your leader is… not to be trusted. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?” Ruby asked.

“Perhaps you might consider staying with us in Freeport, once Sunset and all of her companions depart across the ocean,” Sunsprite said. “You and your father would be most welcome. You would have all the time that our grandfather has left to spend with him, and you could join me in defending Freeport and Estmorland against the dangers that threaten them.”

“I…” Ruby hesitated, because the idea was… well, she’d be lying if she said that it wasn’t tempting. It weighed on her, a little bit, to know that she would be parting from her newly found family so soon after finding them, and it wasn’t as if she’d be quitting the fight altogether from what Sunsprite was telling her. But at the same time, she could not accept it. “No,” she said. “If you know about Salem, then you know how important it is that we fight her-”

“Can’t Sunset do that?” Sunsprite asked.

“What if she can’t?” Ruby replied. “It’s best that we do it together. It’s not that I don’t want to stay,” she added quickly. “But… I have so much to do, and…” And I do want to see Jaune and Pyrrha again, if we can.

“I see,” Sunsprite murmured. “I understand your choice, and it is a noble one, but I beg you, do not refuse so rashly. Much may happen between now and the moment when you must make your decision.” She stood up. “For now, I am glad that you are not like Sunset. I was worried that, for all our kinship, you did not understand the value of our lives, or what little worth they are when weighed against the whole.”

“I think she understands very well what matters in life,” Vesper declared, “but now, Captain, I beg of you to give us leave. I would have a few words with Ruby Rose myself, if you will.”

Sunsprite looked at her. “To what end?”

“So that I may report to the Queen,” Vesper replied, her voice silky and smooth, “and join my voice of approval to your own.”

Sunsprite hesitated for a moment. She looked almost as though she might scowl at what she had just heard, but she did not, or at least not quite. She glanced at Ruby. “You did your duty,” she said. “You will remember that, as your sorrow fades.” Her cloak of sunshine yellow whirled around her as she turned away and walked towards the main part of the camp.

Ruby glanced at Vesper. “Why do you do it?” she asked quietly. “Why do you pretend? Why not just tell her the truth?”

“The more people know a secret, the harder it is to keep,” Vesper replied. “As you are finding out.”

Ruby winced at that uncomfortable truth. “But why does your secret need to be kept?”

“Because people will say things to a common soldier that they would not say in front of their sovereign,” Vesper explained. “Things that they fear I might not want to hear. Things I might not want to hear, but that does not make it unimportant for me to hear them. Sometimes, the most important counsel I receive comes tripping from the mouths of my Rangers, or the clans who only reluctantly acknowledge my authority over them.” She threw off her hood and pulled down her mask, revealing that she was Sunset Shimmer, with Sunset’s face and Sunset’s hair and Sunset’s eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ruby Rose. Sunset Shimmer, Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, at your service and your family’s.”

Ruby blinked. Sunset – her Sunset – had told her about this, but to actually see it, to see the familiar face staring at her from out of another person’s soul… it was awe-inspiring... and a little terrifying. “Can… can I ask you something?”

Vesper smiled. “You can ask me anything you like.”

“How is it that nobody has ever wondered about the fact that there were two Sunsets walking around?” Ruby asked. “How come nobody ever stopped our Sunset over being… well, being you?”

Vesper’s smile became something more like a smirk, of the sort that Ruby had seen on Sunset’s face many times. “I was… very good at covering my tracks,” she said, whatever that meant. She paused. “I am... sorry that Sunsprite had to put you through all of that. Bringing up the memory of your sister, it… it can’t have been easy for you.”

“No,” Ruby whispered. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I did not do it to cause you pain,” Vesper assured her. “I did it because… because I have an idea of what kind of people Sunset and the rest of her companions are, and - your own father excepted - I do not like them. The only one I did not know was you. I hoped – as Sunsprite hoped, and as you are proving – that you were different from the others.”

“I think you’re worrying too much about them,” Ruby said.

“It is the duty of a sovereign to worry,” Vesper said. “In all of Remnant, there is to be no higher good than the good of Freeport. I would do anything to ensure the survival of my city and my people. You understand that, don’t you? Just as you understand why, that being the case, Sunset concerns me.”

“Yes,” Ruby admitted. “But… by the time she leaves, Sunset will have proven to you that there was never anything to worry about.”

“I hope so,” Vesper whispered. “Tell me something, Ruby, how does this end?”

“Huh?” Ruby asked. “I… I don’t understand?”

“How will you defeat Salem?” Vesper asked. “What is the end of all this fighting, all this struggle? You go to Anima to fight against Salem, and then what? Where does it end, Ruby?”

“When does the shepherd’s watch end?” Ruby demanded, her voice acquiring an edge of sharpness. “When do they get to say that there are no more wolves? They don’t, and we don’t get to say that either. It doesn’t end, it just… we have to fight, until… until someone else can take up the fight in our place, until we can’t fight anymore. We can’t defeat Salem, but that doesn’t mean that we have to let her have her way.”

“No,” Vesper agreed. “No, I would never suggest such a thing.” She fell silent for a moment, drumming her fingers on her knee. “I do not have silver eyes,” she said. “I was not born to lead the life of a warrior. Yet, this is my land, and these are my people-”

“Whether they want you or not?” Ruby couldn’t help but ask.

Vesper paused, a smirk crossing her face. “Let me guess what the Frost Mountain Clan have been saying about me: that I’m taking away their freedom, that I’m putting them in cages, that I’m destroying their way of life.”

Ruby said nothing. She regretted having mentioned it at all. She didn’t want to get Yona, or her uncle, or any of their generous hosts into trouble.

Vesper chuckled. “Don’t be fooled by their geniality, Ruby; these people can be as vicious as the grimm when they have need to be. Where do you think that finely worked gold comes from, with which they so proudly adorn themselves? Do you think they made it all in their portable forges, from nuggets panned from the rivers? Do you think it all comes from the hoards of dragons slain long ago?” She shook her head. “The Fall Forest Clan is more overt in its brutality, but the Frost Mountain, the Summer Fire, all the clans can be cruel to those outside their boundaries. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that the hospitality with which you were received is indicative of their nature. This is a hard land, filled with hard people in need of the firm hand of a parent upon them to make them behave themselves.” Vesper got to her feet. “I thank you, or rather, I should thank your companions, for bringing me this news of Salem, or rather, for breaking it to me. It… vindicates me, you might say. When I came here, with a few trusted companions, I confess I thought of little but my own advancement, of how, here in the wilds, I had a chance to make something of myself by making something of others. When I founded Freeport, I made myself queen because it was clear to me that these people would never get anywhere without good, firm leadership to pull them up by the bootstraps. But now… the world is so much darker than I had believed, and so much more perilous, and it makes my work seem all the more urgent. Do you understand what I’m saying, Ruby?”

“I think so,” Ruby murmured. “You’re saying you want to make this land strong enough to stand up to Salem?”

“I want to save these people,” Vesper declared. “They may not like me, they may not agree with what I’m doing, but… but there is good strength in these folk, as there is in this land, and it would be a terrible shame if all these querulous, quarrelsome clans and proud steadings were destroyed, don’t you agree?”

Ruby nodded, thinking of Yona and her family. “Everyone deserves to survive, no matter where they come from.”

“But some are born with greater chance of survival than others,” Vesper mused. “Atlas has the majestic fleet, and the commanding general is aided in his duties by General Winter. Mistral has its high walls and its heroes; Vacuo has its harsh surrounds; Vale has the might of Beacon.”

“It did,” Ruby murmured. “Until recently.”

Vesper frowned. “Of course,” she agreed. “Forgive me. My point is that every kingdom has – or had – some means of defending itself and something in which to place its hope. These eastern wilds, the lands out of which I am making a realm, have only me. I am making an army; I am trying to make a nation. And if I am given time, then I will make both, a nation strong enough to stand against the power of Salem, but if I fail… if I am not given that time… then I fear that all who dwell beyond the mountains will be swept away.” Her lips twitched. “Does this seem… arrogant?”

“No,” Ruby said, because she was used to arrogance from Sunset Shimmers. “It sounds like a lot to take on.”

Vesper nodded. “When I was a child,” she said, turning her back on Ruby, “I was on an airship flying from Mantle to Canterlot. We were caught in a sudden storm, a storm like nothing that anyone had ever seen before: strange eldritch lights surrounded us, purple and green and blue against which the lightning that struck the airship seemed as black as night. The airship was struck by the lightning once, twice, so many times; everything started to fail: the lights went out, we could hear the alarms screaming, and then the passengers were screaming too. The airship crashed,” Vesper added. “I was… the only survivor. And since that day, I knew that I was… chosen for something great, something important. I was destined to do something that mattered. I was saved for a purpose, and that purpose… I’ve found that purpose here, in Estmorland.” She turned back towards Ruby. “I sense that about you too, Ruby; you are meant for something great, something greater than to dog the heels of my… somewhat insalubrious doppelgänger. Please, give some thought to what Sunsprite has said; you could do great things in Freeport. You would be invaluable in what I’m trying to achieve here: a safe haven for humanity, a power to bind this scattered land together for the protection of all who dwell within its boundaries.”

“I understand what you’re trying to do,” Ruby said, “and I wish you well in it, but-”

She was cut off by the winding of a horn, a long, low blast echoing across the night sky.

Vesper pulled her mask up above her face. “One blast,” she said. “That means Rangers-”

A second blast, just as long, was sounded by the horn that wound upon the hilltop.

Vesper threw her hood back over her head, all traces of Sunset Shimmer disappearing from view. “Two blasts,” she said. “We’re under attack!”

Ruby leapt to her feet, her hands reaching for Crescent Rose. “By who?”

“Two blasts is for brigands,” Vesper said, as a third blast of the horn struck the stars above.

“And three blasts?” Ruby asked.

Vesper’s green eyes gleamed in the darkness as she looked at Ruby. “Grimm.”

Who Do You Trust?

Who Do You Trust?

Perched upon a rock, her rifle resting upon her shoulder, Sunset watched as Ruby sat and talked with her cousin and… the other Sunset.

She couldn’t hear what they were talking about, worse luck.

No, wait, that was… not right of her to think that way. She shouldn’t want to hear what they were saying. She shouldn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation.

She did want to eavesdrop, but that didn’t make it right.

She just wished… she didn’t know exactly what she wished, to be honest, except perhaps that Ruby had never met her cousin and Sunset had never met her other self.

Not that it would have helped much.

The fault is not in them but in me. If I had been a better friend to Ruby in the past, then I wouldn’t feel as though I was at risk of losing her now.

“Are you genuinely worried about her?” Cinder asked. “Or are you just jealous?”

Sunset glanced at her. Cinder sat upon the grass, her legs folded, her head resting against one of the wagons of the Frost Mountain Clan. Sunset was sure that it couldn’t be comfortable. “Don’t feel obliged to keep me company,” Sunset said.

Cinder raised one eyebrow. “Is that a polite way of you telling me to go away and leave you to brood?”

Sunset snorted. “It’s a way of me telling you that you don’t have to stick around here while I… spy on Ruby. You can go somewhere else, if you’d rather.”

“And where would I go instead?” Cinder asked.

“You say that as if you’ve nowhere else to go,” Sunset replied. “I notice that you’ve been spending a lot of time with the old woman lately.”

Cinder nodded, acknowledging the fact. “Athelwyn… has been kind to me,” she said softly. “She is helping me with…”

Sunset waited for her to continue. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, but you needn’t be ashamed of… whatever it is.”

“What makes you think that I’m ashamed?”

“The fact that you’re not saying anything,” Sunset pointed out.

Cinder shrugged. “It’s something… Princess Twilight suggested,” she murmured. “I’m getting back into sewing.”

“'Sewing'?”

“That tone of voice is why I didn’t say anything,” Cinder pointed out.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- but clearly I did, for which I apologise,” Sunset said, holding up both hands. “I just… I don’t know really; I thought you’d… I thought you hated everything about that part of your life.”

“Don’t expect me to start suddenly sweeping floors or scrubbing pots,” Cinder declared. “Well, not for pleasure anyway. But sewing… perhaps I ought to feel the same way about it, perhaps I ought to consider it just another aspect of my servitude, but for whatever reason, I do not. I… even back then, it brought me peace. I could appreciate the beauty in what I was doing… even when those would wear it had no beauty in themselves. There was a joy to be had in creation that was different from all my other chores.” She paused. “It may seem absurd, but Princess Twilight suggested that… I should try and recapture that. I think she was right.”

Sunset smiled softly. “Good for you,” she said. “You… you’re finding out who you are now.”

Cinder chuckled quietly. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. Sewing does not a personality make.”

“Tell that to Rarity,” Sunset muttered.

“Don’t expect me to start calling you ‘darling’ any time soon,” Cinder said.

Sunset sniggered. “I wouldn’t necessarily object if you did,” she said lightly. “But I won’t listen out for it.” She sighed. She hesitated. She knew what she had to say, but… but that didn’t really mean that she wanted to say it. “Listen, Cinder… if you don’t want to stay here, then… I mean if you don’t want to…” Sunset ran one hand through her fiery hair. “If you don’t want to stay with me – with us – then you don’t have to.”

Cinder stared at her, silently, her eyes intent. “Am I not bound to the service of Vale?”

“We’ll say you died,” Sunset replied. “Like Emerald or Sky.”

“Cardin might not agree with that.”

“I’ll handle Cardin.”

“And where would I go instead?” Cinder asked.

“I don’t know, anywhere you like,” Sunset replied. “You could stay with the Frost Mountain Clan, you could… anywhere you wish. The world is spread out before you.”

“Are you saying that you want me to go?”

“Of course not,” Sunset said quickly. “I don’t want to lose you; I… I’m offering to set you free. I have no right to hold you here, and I will not.”

Cinder’s lips twitched upwards. “It is not your will, like a great chain, that holds me here; it is yourself. No, I will not leave you, not while you have need me. I don’t need to get away from you in order to find out who I am… at least, I don’t think I do. At least, I hope that I do not.” She snorted. “Besides, can you imagine me referring to myself in the third person and dropping all my prepositions?”

“I think you might have enjoyed referring to yourself in the third person once upon a time. I’m a little surprised you didn’t. Cinder Fall has come!”

Cinder snorted. “The Fall Maiden has come.” She sat silent for a moment. “Cinder not leave Sunset,” she said. “Cinder stay.”

Sunset smiled. “Sunset glad to hear it.”

Cinder held her gaze. “You never answered my question,” she reminded her.

Sunset frowned. “Which one?”

“Is it jealousy?” Cinder repeated. “Or are you genuinely worried about Ruby?”

Sunset hesitated. “Can it be both?”

“It can,” Cinder agreed. “Is it?”

“I… it depends,” Sunset conceded. “I do not trust myself.”

“Your other self?”

“Both,” Sunset admitted. “I do not like her being around… Vesper, but the truth is that I should like her being around me just as little. I… don’t deserve her, but I dislike being reminded of that fact by her cousin, of whom… I am more jealous than fearful.” Sunset shook her head. “What am I doing, Cinder?”

“You’re leading us,” Cinder reminded her. “You’re taking us to find Professor Ozpin and defend him.”

“Professor Ozpin doesn’t need me; he needs Ruby,” Sunset said. “He needs Pyrrha. He needs people he can count on. He needs… Professor Goodwitch only came to me because I was the only person who would take her calls. I… ever since the Battle, I’ve been… going through the motions, almost. I do things because I ought to, because I’ve promised that I will, because people expect me to. Meanwhile, all my own ambitions have turned to ash, and my goodness, this is some self-pitying garbage, isn’t it?”

“Is that what you really think?” Cinder demanded. “You would encourage me to find myself, but you would begrudge yourself the chance, the right, to do the same?”

“I have-”

“Done nothing worse than I,” Cinder pointed out to her. “If I deserve the chance to live again, then so do you.” She frowned. “Is there nothing left that brings you joy in this world?”

“I… I’m not sure how much there ever was,” Sunset admitted. “I wanted renown, I wanted glory, I wanted to shine above all others… but that in which I sought to shine brought me no joy.” She sighed. “Do you think that matters? I don’t think I’ve ever asked Ruby if she enjoys fighting, but… I don’t think I have ever seen her take especial glee in the act. She loves not the scythe for its sharpness but only that which it defends. But I loved not that which it defended, only myself and a handful of others.” Sunset’s frown deepened. “Do you think that if I could open my heart to the world, I would feel more content in my situation?”

“If you think Ruby is content in her situation at present, then you are a fool,” Cinder said dryly.

“Of course not,” Sunset replied sharply. “I just meant… I’m not entirely sure what I meant.”

“How can you be sure what you mean when you aren’t sure what you are?” Cinder asked. She paused. “Was there anything that brought you joy in the other world from whence you came? The world you fled from?”

“Not a lot,” Sunset confessed. “Not enough for me to figure out where my special talent lay, my purpose, my gift to the world. I liked to sing; I still do-”

“You rarely do,” Cinder pointed out.

Sunset grinned briefly. “It isn’t so acceptable to just burst into song whenever you feel like it in this world,” she reminded Cinder. “Not to mention… it hasn’t exactly been the right moment for it lately.”

“I’d ask when will be the right moment for it,” Cinder said. “But… not right now.” She glanced over Sunset’s shoulder, and Sunset turned to see Sunsprite Rose walking towards her, her yellow cloak swirling behind her.

Sunset rose to her feet, Sol Invictus gripped in one hand.

Sunsprite regarded her coolly out of her one eye. “You have ceased to spy upon Ruby, then?”

“I wasn’t spying,” Sunset replied defensively. “I was… keeping an eye on her, that’s all.”

“Ruby has no need of you to keep an eye on her while she is with me,” Sunsprite replied.

“She’s not with you now,” Cinder observed casually.

“Cinder,” Sunset said gently. She looked Sunsprite square in the face. “You are correct, of course.” She didn’t quite apologise, but she left the notion of an apology floating in the air between the two of them.

Sunsprite’s expression did not soften. “Do you hate me, Sunset Shimmer?”

“Hate you?” Sunset repeated. “No, I do not hate you.” She looked away. “I have no cause to hate you that I do not have to hate myself the more. The truth is that I was never Ruby’s sister, and I was a fool to forget that.”

“Indeed,” Sunsprite declared. “Speaking for myself, I find you absolutely unfit to be in Ruby’s company.”

Sunset blinked in surprise. Her ears twitched in annoyance. “I was about to ask you to take good care of her-”

“I need no leave or request from you to do that,” Sunsprite said sharply.

“But I’m not sure that I’ll be so generous now,” Sunset muttered.

“For someone who has known Ruby for so little time,” Cinder said, climbing to her feet, “you seem to consider yourself an authority on who she ought or ought not associate with.”

“I am her cousin, her kin,” Sunsprite replied. “We share a bond of blood and magic. A bond so unique that you could not possibly comprehend it.”

I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sunset thought. “I do not trust you with Ruby because of your damn silver eye, but because you are her cousin. I thought you cared about Ruby for more than the magic in her line.”

“I do care for Ruby,” Sunsprite said. “But I also care for Freeport, and Estmorland, and all the people of this realm that my queen is forging out of this wilderness. A realm I fear for while you are within its bounds.”

Sunset closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped. Of course. Of course it had come down to this. “You know what I did,” she said disconsolately.

“I know that you were willing to sacrifice a kingdom for the sake of-”

“Of Ruby,” Cinder pointed out. “Your cousin, bound by blood and magic, whom you claim to care for.”

“I care for Ruby,” Sunsprite repeated. “As I care for every living soul in Freeport, and for those souls, I would sacrifice Ruby as I would sacrifice myself.”

“Now I’m the one starting to have doubts about whether you are fit company for my friend,” Sunset murmured.

Sunsprite snorted. “So you admit it, then? You would sacrifice Freeport for Ruby’s sake.”

“I did not say that,” Sunset replied, “but nor would I so casually talk of casting aside her life.”

“Not even in sacrifice for the greater good?”

“I don’t believe in sacrifices,” Sunset declared.

“Clearly you did.”

“I am not that which I was.”

“Am I expected to simply believe that?” Sunsprite demanded. “The beowolf grows his spines, but he does not change them.”

“That is because the beowolf is a monster without a soul,” Cinder said. “Sunset is not such.”

“Again: am I expected to believe that and trust in you, though the lives of every man, woman, and child in Freeport rest upon my choices?” Sunsprite said, her voice rising.

“I bear no malice to any man, woman, or child in Freeport,” Sunset declared.

“Yet you bear them no love, either,” Sunsprite replied.

“What is that you think Sunset is going to do to you and your town?” inquired Cinder.

“I know not, which troubles me,” Sunsprite growled. “Based on what I know of you, it might be almost anything.”

Sunset’s hands clenched into fists. “At least I don’t talk so blithely of throwing Ruby’s life away as though it means nothing at all!”

“And at least I do not risk millions of lives as though they mean nothing!” Sunsprite hissed through gritted teeth. “The defence of Freeport is mine, and I will not see my city fall through your selfish conduct-”

A horn sounded, one of the Rangers upon the rampart of stone blowing to split the night air and strike the stars and shattered moon above.

Once, twice, three times, they wound the horn, each time blowing a long and dolorous note until, after the third time of sounding, the horn fell silent.

“What does that mean?” Cinder asked.

Sunsprite scowled, and a single word dropped from her lips, “Grimm.”

Crescent Rose was out in Ruby’s hands as soon as Vesper spoke the word, and she didn’t wait for the Sun Queen to act before she was heading towards the ramparts, rose petals like the blood that might be spilled this night trailing behind her. She reached the walls, the crumbling walls of overgrown white stone that were all that remained of the ancient ringfort that once had stood there. She leapt up onto the wall, Crescent Rose unfolding, and looked out into the darkness.

She could see them there, illuminated by the light of the broken moon that shone down upon them: the creatures of grimm, swarming in a great horde towards the hill upon which the Rangers and the Frost Mountain Clan were camped. There were beowolves and ursai, and amongst the press of smaller grimm walked larger karkadanns, grimm like horses with mouths full of cruel fangs called sleipnirs, towering grimm with horns like elks called cerruns, bipedal ogres and cyclopes lumbering forward and making the earth shake with their tread. For it was a horde in truth. A horde of grimm, no mere pack under the command of an alpha. Not, perhaps, the largest horde, nothing like the group that had attacked Beacon, but still a horde capable of sweeping aside the Frost Mountain Clan and leaving only bones behind.

Ruby tightened her grip on Crescent Rose, her weapon unfurling with clicks and snaps and hydraulic hisses. That would not happen. No matter what, she would not allow Yona to die, nor to lose everything so young. The Frost Mountain Clan would see the dawn.

She would make sure of it.

Perhaps if they killed the apex alpha, like Sunset, Yang, and Weiss had done on that leadership exercise in the Emerald Forest so long ago, then the horde would disperse. It was risky, and with prey so close by, there was no guarantee that it would work, but the chances of fighting off so many grimm just by defending this place, strong though it may be, were likewise risky, and if there was a chance that it might even reduce the odds against them, then surely, they had to take it? They had no allies coming, they had no Atlesian air support, they couldn’t fall back and tell themselves that the Valish military or the navy would take care of it before it reached a populated place. The populated place was here, and so was the battle. Throwing the dice was about all that they could do, but where was the apex alpha? Where was the grimm who had gathered this horde in place? Where was the…?

Ruby’s eyes widened as she saw it: there, far off, well at the rear of the horde, not guarded by any honour guard of grimm but at the same time needing none; she could just about make out the strange grimm, the talking grimm imbued with magic who had attacked her home and driven her in flight from Patch to Vale. The beast was wreathed in smoke, but that very smokescreen was so memorable that she recognised the beast at once.

She could make out its eyes, the crimson anima that burned like a maiden’s magic, blazing in the shadows.

By now, the camp was stirring behind her. The three blasts of the horn had stirred a hornet’s nest, and in the camp of the Frost Mountain Clan, the warriors were arming, pulling on mail shirts and taking up shields and spears, while Rangers snatched up their Great War guns, loading magazines and chambering rounds into the antique weapons.

“Rangers! To arms!” Sunsprite called, her assault rifle in one hand. “To the walls, now!”

“Shieldwall!” Prince Rutherford bellowed. “Archers to wall!”

“Huntsmen, to me!” Sunset bounded across the camp until she was standing on top of the stone wall alongside Ruby, looking out across the grimm horde to where their old friend from Patch waited. She cursed under her breath.

“What are we going to do, Sunset?” Ruby asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Sunset replied. “But… but he’s just standing there at the back for now, so let’s worry about the grimm that are actually getting close, and then we’ll worry about him later, okay?” She placed one hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “We’re going to get through this.”

“I know,” Ruby agreed. “Whatever it takes.”

Cardin and Taiyang joined them at the wall, although they did not climb up for a better view.

Cardin began to say, “What’s going-?” and then he saw exactly what was going on. “Ah, hell.”

“A taste of it, to be sure,” Cinder said, shards of glass forming a bow in her hand. “Do we have a plan?”

“Kill them before they get up to the top of this hill, if possible,” Sunset said.

Cardin grunted. “Hey, old man, did you ever wish you had a gun?”

“Only every time anybody called me ‘old man,’” Taiyang replied.

The Rangers rushed to the rampart; a couple of had bows, one had a crossbow, two were working a great war-era Valish light machine gun, setting up the weapon upon the wall, with its straight magazine sticking up from out of the top of the receiver; most of them had rifles, short-magazine, bolt action, over eighty years old, some of them, with bayonets – again, a mixture of sword bayonets almost two feet long and shorter knife-like blades only half the length – fixed and ready if, or when, the grimm got close enough. Even Vesper Radiance was amongst them, wielding a rifle with an unusually pale stock, almost white, which stood out amongst the other Rangers; it seemed to almost gleam under the light of the moon. The Rangers formed a skirmish line along the wall, while the warriors of the Frost Mountain Clan pressed in behind them, their painted shields, decorated with ravens and yaks’ heads and fire-breathing monsters, locked together in a wall of overlapping protection. Archers stood before the wall, and the front rank of warriors had spears ready to throw.

Of the Valish company, those who could fight from range – Ruby, Cinder, Sunset, Torchwick, Jack – stood at the forefront, while those who could not – Cardin, Sami, Neo, Taiyang, Lyra, and Bon Bon – were at the rear, the last line of defence between those of the Frost Mountain Clan who could not fight and the grimm. The young and old of the clan huddled amongst the wagons, including Yona, while their oxen lowed and the horses of the Rangers whinnied in alarm.

The grimm advanced in a growling, snarling mass, their red eyes gleaming in the darkness. They would be led by younger, weaker grimm to test the strength of their defences, but even those young, weak grimm could kill if they got amongst people with no aura and little training.

They all had to be killed if these people were to be protected.

Torchwick tipped his hat. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been a wonderful audience.”

“Shut up and fight!” Sunset snapped.

The foremost grimm had reached the first step in the hill and began to climb up the artificial incline towards the summit.

Sunsprite climbed up onto the wall and ran across the ancient, crumbling, vine-covered rampart to stand beside Ruby. She spoke softly, in a voice so quiet that few even nearby could have heard them.

“I… have never learned how to use our… gift,” she admitted. “I am hoping that it is different with you.”

Ruby winced. “I’m afraid not. I know the theory, but not how to actually… get it to work. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I had no grounds for expectation,” Sunsprite replied. “Very well. We must do this the traditional way. Rangers of Freeport! At will, aimed rapid fire, commence!”

Sunsprite put her assault rifle to her shoulder and began to blaze away at the black mass of targets down below. The light machine gun barked, the weapon shaking as it stuttered forth fire upon the grimm. The archers and the crossbowman let fly. But it was the rifles that were the most impressive; though most of them were bolt action weapons, nevertheless, the Rangers worked them so swiftly and fired so rapidly that it was as though there were twenty machine guns up upon the hill instead of one; the air was filled with the rattling fire of the rifles, the click-clacking of the bolt-action chambers as the Rangers worked their antique weapons blending together in an incessant sound. Ruby, Sunset, and the others added their own fire to the fusillade, and the archers of the Frost Mountain Clan let fly as well. Arrows and bullets alike flew down the hillside. Cinder’s glass arrows glinted as she shot them; Torchwick’s cane barked ordinary bullets, less powerful than his rockets but with a faster rate of fire; Ruby fired, aimed, and fired again.

The juvenile grimm who made up the first wave were met with fire and arrows descending. The bullets and the deadly darts tore through their black flesh, smashed through their underdeveloped masks of bleached bone, cracked spikes and armour plates before the grimm turned to ashes down on the lower slope. They fired, the grimm died, and the defenders on the wall cheered and cursed.

But the grimm kept coming.

Not yet the karkadanns or the cerruns, not yet the ogres or the cyclopes, still the beowolves and the ursai came on howling, running across the ground, churning up the land with their claws as they rushed forward, kicking up dirt, howling ever louder the closer they got. They were bigger now, and older; there were alphas and ursai major amongst them, distinguished by their greater size and developed bone structure; they all swarmed forward, trampling upon the ashes of their younger and more foolish kin who had been the first to fight and the first to fall.

This was how it was with grimm hordes; Sunset had explained that after her mission in the forest, teaching her what Professor Port had failed to get across: first, the small fry to test the strength of the defences, then the larger and more powerful grimm. This was not a typical horde – its atypical apex alpha had no bodyguards and seemed to be brooking no small or weak grimm to hide at the back of the pack – but that much had not changed. The grimm that came next were larger, stronger, and more dangerous.

Nevertheless, the defenders of King’s Camp met them with fire and with arrows. The rifles rattled rapidly, and the machine gun blazed away as the grimm tore at the earth in their zeal to climb the hill. Sunset’s Sol Invictus snapped, and Crescent Rose roared. Torchwick switched to his rockets, which exploded amongst the packed ranks of the grimm. But these grimm were better armoured than the ones before, more of their bodies were covered in bleached white bony armour, and so many arrows glanced off, and so many bullets seemed to not even faze the monsters, and even as some died, others continued to climb up the steps of the hillfort.

Murmurs of disquiet began to run through the ranks of the defenders.

“Hold fast!” Sunsprite roared. “For Freeport and the Queen, hold fast.”

“Stand firm!” bellowed Prince Rutherford. “Protect your children!”

The sound of a lyre being gently strummed disturbed the sounds of fighting; it came from Lyra, who had no gun but who did have a harp, who plucked upon that harp as the grimm climbed up the hill in the teeth of all that the defenders could throw at them.

Ever more quickly, she strummed, until she was playing a rapid, bouncing tune, and as she played, Ruby felt a fresh strength in her limbs, and the warriors behind her seemed to find fresh courage and resolve as, behind them, Lyra began to sing.

“We’ll drink the wine till cup is dry,

And kiss the girls so they’ll not cry,

And toss the dice until we fly,

To dance with Sal o’ the Shadows.”

Hands worked more swiftly upon rifle bolts, weapons were reloaded more swiftly; arrows flew thicker, the arms of the archers a blur. Sunset seemed to be glowing as she reloaded Sol Invictus twice as quick as she had done before. With such a greater rate of the fire, the charge of the grimm began to falter as the volume of shot with which they were deluged found the mark.

“We’ll dance all night until the moon runs free,

And dandle the lasses upon our knee,

And then you’ll ride along with me,

To dance with Sal o’ the Shadows.”

The grimm howled in outrage as they began to struggle, those behind struggling over the wounded in front, grimm turning to ashes before their eyes, dying amidst the fire as they strove to gain the higher steps. They died in fire. They died of arrows. But as the great equine grimm that spoke and wielded magic watched from so far off, they kept on coming.

“We’ll sing all night and drink all day,

And on the girls we’ll spend our pay,

And when we’re done then we’ll away,

To dance with Sal o’ the Shadows.”

So Lyra sang, but they were already dancing with Sal o’ the Shadows this night, or at least with some of her innumerable minions. And they kept on coming. The beowolves and the ursai died scaling the hill, but now, the larger grimm – karkadanns, cerruns, cyclopes, ogres – had reached the base of the hill, and Ruby wasn’t sure they could shoot anything heavy enough to stop them.

They didn’t even have anything heavy enough to stop all the beowolves and the ursai. They were dying, yes, as much from volume of fire as anything else, but they kept on coming all the same, and the alphas and the ursai major who posed the biggest danger were the hardest to shoot down.

Ruby felt her hands begin to tremble. She was not afraid for herself, but she was terribly afraid for Yona, for Yona and her brother and sister and all the others of the Frost Mountain Clan who might… no, that would not happen. Not while she could prevent it.

If she could prevent it.

Ruby fired her last shot in her current magazine, blowing the head off a beowolf. She didn’t reload, instead she – to Sunset and to Sunsprite both – yelled, “I’ll be back!”

She turned away and felt her whole body transform into rose petals as she flew over the head of the Rangers and the warriors of the clan in their shield wall, flying in a red blur through the dark of the night with the howling of the grimm at her back.

It was… it was amazing. It must have been an evolution of her semblance, because Ruby had never felt anything quite like this before. She had left rose petals behind, but she hadn’t transformed into them like this. She felt as though she were in a hundred different places and in no place; she was flying without a body… she wished that she could have experienced this in less urgent circumstances.

She reformed, stopping and returning to herself both almost at once, before the wagons of the Frost Mountain Clan. “Yona?” she shouted. “Yona, where are you?”

“Here, Yona is here, Ruby,” Yona replied from underneath one of the wagons. She was huddled there with her siblings in her arms, the smaller children clinging to her for comfort. “Ruby not fight in battle?”

“Ruby fight, I mean I’m going to go back to fighting in a second,” Ruby told her. “But before that, there’s something that I need to do, if you’ll let me. Yona, do you want to be able to protect your family?”

Yona nodded. “Ruby, is fight going badly?”

“No, Yona, it’s not, but if it does… do you trust me?” Ruby asked.

Yona nodded again, without hesitation. “Yona trust Ruby.”

“Then close your eyes and concentrate.” What Ruby was about to do was probably not the right thing, or at least not exactly; it was kind of personal, and she didn’t really know Yona that well, but if the grimm broke through, then at least she’d have a fighting chance.

Ruby reached out and placed one hand on Yona’s shoulder. She closed her eyes in turn.

For it is with courage that we overcome all obstacles.

She channelled her aura through her arm, sending it pulsing into Yona like a charge of electricity moving through a circuit. Ruby felt the power rushing out of her, her own aura depleting.

Through this, we bloom like a flower in sunlight, our beauty in our strength revealed.

Ruby’s aura plunged through the girl before her, searching for the core of her soul. The world disappeared around them; there were no grimm, there was no battle, nobody was wondering where she was or what she was doing. There was only Ruby… and there was Yona, as Ruby’s aura made contact with her soul.

Illuminated with valour and endowed with strength, I unleash your soul, and by my hand, I arm thee.

The darkness was lit up by a light, a blaze of light coming from within Yona. Ruby gasped for breath as she recoiled back a step.

Yona glowed brilliantly with the newly acquired light of her soul. “Ruby?” she asked. “What Ruby do?”

“What I had to,” Ruby declared. “I need to get back. Keep your family safe, okay?”

Ruby turned away without waiting for a reply from Yona. She turned back to the battle to see the warriors of the Frost Mountain Clan hurling their spears down as the grimm covered the last few feet of ground separating them from the old stone rampart.

They were led by the largest ursa that Ruby had ever seen, a towering giant of a grimm covered in so many protruding spikes of bone that it looked as much like a porcupine as a bear. The bleached claws jutting out of its paws were as long as the blades of swords, and bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its armour.

Sunsprite stood before it, her assault rifle cast aside, a machete-like blade gripped in both hands.

The ursa growled as it raised one paw to swat her aside.

Ruby struck before it could, her body turning to rose petals once more as, in a swirling cloud of crimson, she soared from the wagons to the forefront of the battle line. The world was slow around her, and she was swift, as swift as air itself before she reformed, her body returning to normal as she slammed into the ursa’s chest hard enough to rock it back on its heels. The immense grimm was pushed back so far that it lost its balance on the slope and tumbled backwards down the stepped hill... and Ruby with it.

She and the grimm fell together, the grimm howling in pain as its great spurs cracked and splintered on the ground. Ruby tried to strike at the ursa as they fell, but she was getting banged around so much – tossed from the earth and stone to the ursa’s chest, her aura dropping a little every time – that it was hard to focus, let alone get Crescent Rose in the right position.

They reached the base of the hill. Ruby rolled to her feet, lashing out with Crescent Rose to slice two nearby beowolves in half. But she was in the midst of the horde now, and all the grimm were turning towards her, including the giant ursa which climbed ponderously to its feet.

There was a crack and a burst of green light as Sunset appeared above the ursa’s head, her black sword Soteria aflame, screaming in fury as she sliced off the ursa’s head.

Sunset roared as she teleported to Ruby’s side, her sword ablaze. She bellowed in anger as she cut off the ursa’s head and landed amongst its ashes, because she would suffer no harm to come to Ruby, not from these fell beasts.

Sunset’s rings of iron and gold fitted snugly upon her fingers; the golden band glimmered in the moonlight, but it was the iron ring that she made use of now, the strength of an earth pony magnified immensely. She was so strong now, and so swift. She could feel the power coursing through her muscles, stiffening her sinews more than Lyra’s semblance had achieved or ever could have. By Celestia, she could take on Pyrrha with this kind of strength, take her on in a contest of sheer brute strength and still prevail.

Certainly, she was a match for any beowolf or ursa.

Ruby watched, wide-eyed, in awe of Sunset’s might as she wielded her burning sword with a strength and speed that she never would have possessed without this borrowed power. The ursai and the beowolves lunged at her, but she would suffer none of them to reach Ruby, not a single one. Soteria traced flames in the air as she hacked and sliced, smashing bony plates of armour to pieces to cleave the oily black flesh beneath. She cut off heads, she hacked off limbs, alphas and ursai major fell before her might because she was strength, she was speed, she was everything, and these creatures, these wretched, miserable things could not compare.

They were not her real opponent. Her real enemy, coward that he was, was staying out of the battle, watching as his minions great and small fought on his behalf. She could see him over there, watching her as the grimm closed in around her, but not fast enough. All she needed to do with her earth pony strength and speed was clear a little space around Ruby, and she had done that. A little space in which to concentrate, to gather the power of the gold ring, the power of unicorns, the magic greater than any she could wield alone.

Magic that would be sufficient to deal with even a horde such as this.

With the immediate threat of the grimm closest by dealt with – by killing them all, every last one of them – Sunset gathered magic to her. So much magic. So much power. So much strength at her command. She glowed with it. She blazed with it. Her name was Sunset, but in this darkness, she was the very sun itself. She was the light in darkness, and the darkness would fear her.

Or it would die.

And die it did as the magic erupted out of her in all directions, Sunset’s custom dispelling failsafe racing like wildfire away from her in all directions, seeking out the grimm and breaking the spells that held their destructive natures together. One by one, before they could cry out, they were reduced to nothingness, a whole great horde falling by her hand in no time at all.

She should use this power more often. She should not flinch from it. Had she not done good work? Had she not done a hero’s work this night? Had she not saved a clan from destruction and rescued Freeport’s vaunted Rangers from annihilation too?

All the grimm were destroyed, all save for the one who had brought them here, the one who had tracked them all the way from Vale. The one who stood far to the rear of the field, wreathed in smoke and shadow, watching them with his one red eye.

Sunset watched him in turn, her teeth bared in a snarl.

Come. Come try me now, as your two fellows did. Come, try me and see why your sister fled in terror of my strength!

Things will not be as they were on Patch.

It seemed that the great grimm did not doubt it, for like a coward, it turned away, the smoke that spewed forth from the monster concealing it as it slunk away into the darkness, hidden even from the moonlight, hidden to be sure from Sunset’s eyes.

She did not pursue. She had no need to. He could not frighten her, not any more. While she possessed these rings, she was invulnerable. There was neither man nor woman nor grimm under sun or moon could equal up her power.

By Celestia, that proud and arrogant Sunsprite Rose would not dare speak to her now as she had before the battle began! She would not have the nerve to trespass against Sunset now that she knew what Sunset truly was!

She was tempted to walk back up that hill- no, she would fly up the hill, and she would show that great child of duty, that born and destined warrior, just who and what she truly was!

Sunset turned, and she was still baring her teeth in a snarl as she looked up the hill to see everyone staring down at her. Well might they stare. Sunset was so far above them as to be-

“Sunset?”

Sunset turned. Ruby was standing there, staring at her. She was still holding onto Crescent Rose. She looked… she looked nervous.

Nervous… of her?

Why did Ruby look nervous of her?

Why shouldn’t she look nervous? Why shouldn’t she be afraid?

Because she’s my friend.

She is no friend to me.

“What?” Sunset barked at her.

Ruby took a step back. “Sunset… this is what we talked about, isn’t it? When you told me that you might… that you had something to power up your magic, but… but at a cost?” Her silver eyes glanced towards the rings on Sunset’s fingers. “It’s those rings, isn’t it?” Ruby’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “You can take them off now. You don’t need them anymore; you can take them off.”

“No!” Sunset yelled, because of course Ruby wanted her to take them off, of course Ruby wanted to take her power away, Ruby wanted to make her weak and pliable so that she could use her as she always had!

No. Ruby isn’t like that. That’s not why-

Ruby is exactly like that! I save her time and again! I sacrifice for her, I give up everything for her, and all I get in return is disapproval!

Because of the things that I’ve done-

What I’ve done? What I’ve done is cast all my hopes and dreams and dear ambitions aside because of her, and what has it gotten me? I am a hollow shell because of her, and all for what? All I asked for in return was her love and friendship, and she is too mean to give me that! She prefers her precious cousin over me? Then so be it!

No, Sunset thought. No, you’re wrong, you’re wrong, you don’t… but it was so hard to resist the anger, the resentment, the almost hatred of Ruby that flowed from the rings… no, not from the rings, from herself, from herself and the feelings that she had stuffed away into the darkness in the deepest pits at the bottom of her soul.

Now she had dragged them out and into the light, and she could not put them back again.

She was not Ruby’s sister, and she never had been. So why should she bother playing a role for which she garnered no applause?

“Sunset,” Cinder said, her voice soft as she walked down the hill, leaping from step to step until she was standing in front of Sunset. “Sunset, look at me.”

Sunset did look at her. She looked at Cinder, who had never doubted or betrayed her, at Cinder who had only ever been grateful for all that Sunset had done for her, and she felt the scowl die on her face.

“Sunset,” Cinder repeated. “Take off the rings.”

“But I-”

“The battle is done,” Cinder insisted. “Please.”

Sunset looked down at her hands. The rings made her strong. They made her powerful.

They made her fearful, and Cinder had asked that she take them off.

A simple request, from one who had done so much for Sunset.

A simple request that she could not refuse.

Sunset closed her eyes and clenched her teeth and pulled the rings off her hands.

She felt diminished. She felt her strength leave her in such a rush that she swayed on her feet, unable to stand. Cinder took a step towards her, ready to catch her, ready to support her as she always had, but Sunset held up one hand to stay her. She was not quite at that point, not yet.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Cinder asked. She held out one hand. “Why don’t you let me hang onto those for now?”

Sunset’s hand closed around her rings. She hastily shoved them into her pocket. “No,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Sunset said, with a little more certainty than she felt. She looked at Ruby. “Ruby… I-”

“It’s fine,” Ruby said, even though she didn’t sound fine; there remained a wariness in her silver eyes when she looked at Sunset.

Sunset… resented it, but at the same time… at the same time, she couldn’t blame her.

She looked up the hill. Sunsprite turned away, her yellow cloak swirling behind her. But Vesper Radiance remained, perched on the top of the ancient rampart.

Watching.

Author's Note

The song Lyra sings 'Jak O' the Shadows' comes from Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time, and it's something that I've wanted to include in this story for a very long time.

Things have been getting a lot busier and more hectic for me at work over the last couple of months and this has cut into my writing time so, for what will hopefully prove to be a brief period, Thursday updates will now come once every two weeks instead of one.

Faux Pas

Faux Pas

They departed King’s Camp with the morning following the battle and resumed their journey down the old road that the Kingdom of Vale had made in ancient times.

Nobody said anything to Sunset about what she had done to end the battle. Nobody said anything to her about her impressive display of magical prowess that had defeated the grimm in mere moments. Nobody – least of all Ruby – said anything to her about exactly how she had done that or the fact that she had almost gone crazy doing it.

Nobody said anything to her about any of it. It was as if they were all too polite to mention it, like when you have committed some embarrassing faux pas and the rest of the genteel gathering is too polite to actually bring the subject up, but nevertheless, you feel the weight of social disapproval pressing down hard upon you, as every glance conveys the disbelieving cry of ‘she used the wrong spoon for the soup! The wrong spoon!’ that everypony involved is just too polite, too courteous, too considerate to say out loud.

Or rather, they want you to know that you’ve humiliated yourself without being thought so vulgar as to laugh at you.

Sunset felt much the same way as the column of Rangers and clansfolk followed the road in their great, winding column. Nobody mentioned what she had done, but she had could tell by the glances that she received, by the way that Sunsprite Rose seemed to spend more time watching Sunset than she did keeping watch for grimm or enemies, by the way that Ruby’s silver eyes kept flickering to Sunset and then looking away as though she feared to be caught peeping, that it was on their minds. They didn’t trust her. They feared her.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. If they feared her, they might give her a boat in order to be rid of her faster. They could hope, anyway.

On the other hand, when have I ever been that lucky?

She could have tolerated it from the Rangers, from stuck-up Sunsprite, from the Frost Mountain Clan. It was harder to take from Ruby. She had done this for Ruby; she had put on the rings when Ruby was in danger to protect her. And for that choice, Ruby now regarded her with suspicion. It wasn’t fair.

What a childish, stupid thing to say. When has my life ever been fair?

Not very often, but does that mean that I’m not allowed to be upset about it?

“She’ll come around,” Cinder reassured her as they walked together behind one of the wagons carrying some of the sick and infirm of the Frost Mountain Clan. None of the invalids said anything, although some of them moaned a little as the wagon juddered and rattled down the road, and they seemed mostly concerned with their own ailments, which left Sunset and Cinder free to talk without being overheard or interrupted. “Ruby, I mean,” Cinder continued. “She’s… surprised, by what happened.”

“She’s surprised by the fact that I saved her life?” Sunset asked.

“Mulishness doesn’t become you,” Cinder murmured in tones of quiet reproach.

“Does anything become me any more?” Sunset replied.

“Not self-pity, either,” Cinder declared.

Sunset glanced at her. Cinder’s expression was devoid of expression, her smouldering eyes inscrutable.

Sunset snorted. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I just… I’m losing her.”

“Ruby?”

“Who else?” Sunset demanded. “Don’t answer that; there might be someone else I haven’t thought of.”

“Cardin hasn’t been by recently.”

“Don’t,” Sunset groaned. “Please… just don’t.”

“You worry too much,” Cinder insisted.

“How can I be worrying too much when I can see what’s going on right in front of my face?” Sunset demanded. “I knew that our relationship hasn’t been the same since she found out what I did, but… since her cousin showed up-”

“Exactly,” Cinder said. “She just found out that she has a cousin, that she has family… you may not like it when Sunsprite talks of them being blood and kindred, but the fact remains that she speaks the truth, and that truth… is attractive. At least at first. Ruby is excited about that now, but… I believe she will always have a place for you.”

“You make her sound like a child with a new toy,” Sunset said. “What does that make me?”

“A favourite raggedy old doll?” Cinder suggested with an undercurrent of amusement in her voice. Her tone became a little more serious. “She loves you and will remember it before the end.”

“Are you so sure?” Sunset asked. “I am not. Not anymore. There was a time when I would have agreed with you, but… but at that time, I wouldn’t have felt so threatened by a newcomer in Ruby’s life. The truth is…”

Cinder waited for a moment, and then for more. She waited for several more seconds before she prodded, “Go on.”

“No,” Sunset said. “You’ve heard all this before; you don’t need to listen to this. Let’s… let’s talk about you. How are things?”

“Since the last time we talked?” Cinder asked. She grinned. “The night before last?”

“Or whenever you like,” Sunset said. “Please… let’s just talk about something that isn’t me or my problems or my self-pity or any of it. Please. Let me feel like a good friend for a moment, even if I’m not one.”

“You are a good friend,” Cinder insisted.

“I’m an attention hog, and I’m still doing it.”

Cinder opened her mouth. Sunset held up one hand to forestall her.

“If this isn’t about you, I don’t want to hear it,” she instructed Cinder.

Cinder’s mouth hung open, catching flies for a little while before she shut it again. “There is not much more to say,” she admitted. “You’ve heard it all already.”

“Then go and find something else to tell me,” Sunset instructed her. “Go… make a dress for the formal dance to celebrate our arrival in Freeport.”

Cinder’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think there will be a formal dance to celebrate our arrival in Freeport?”

“I don’t,” Sunset admitted, “but everyone says that the Sun Queen is building a kingdom, and what is a kingdom without music and dancing and galas?” She paused. “And even if there isn’t, you’ll still have a nice dress to wear. Maybe for when we get to Mistral.”

Cinder chuckled. “Yes, Mistral. I’m sure Pyrrha will be thrilled to have me as her guest at the palace.”

“It wouldn’t be your first time at the palace.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cinder groaned.

“Of all the things that you could regret, that should be at the very bottom of the list,” Sunset said. “After all, if you hadn’t gone to that party, then we never would have met.”

A smile crossed Cinder’s face, “True,” she acknowledged, “and a truth that I hadn’t considered in those terms.”

Sunset’s smile was gentle, and a little sad. “Go. Make yourself a fancy dress. Or make yourself a set of hard-wearing work duds or… do whatever you like. And then tell me how much fun you had doing it.”

“And leave you all alone? To stew? To lament in private?”

“I’m going to be stewing or lamenting or whatever else anyway, so you might as well get as far away as you can before I start doing it,” Sunset suggested. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure-”

“I am sure,” Sunset declared, and she was impressed despite herself with how she was able to seem so much more certain than she felt.

Cinder hesitated, but Sunset could tell that she didn’t really want to hang around, humouring Sunset’s whining out of a sense of obligation, any more than Sunset wanted to keep Cinder chained to her group or to her presence. “If you’re sure,” she murmured and turned away, leaving for… Sunset wasn’t entirely sure where she was going or what she was going to do there. Perhaps she was going to learn how to play the yovidaphone, but personally, Sunset hoped that she came back with a pretty dress.

She was… a little curious as to what Cinder’s sense of high fashion looked like, now that she was free of Salem’s influence.

As if Salem’s influence could have affected her dress sense.

Mind you, she did wear black both times I saw her in a formal gown.

The absurdity of the thought made her chuckle and cheered her for a little while as she followed the wagon of the infirm down the road towards Freeport.

The only person to join her, and that briefly, was Cardin, who loomed over her, looking downwards at her as she trudged along.

“I thought Cinder would be here,” Cardin muttered awkwardly.

“Well, she isn’t,” Sunset snapped. She sighed. “Sorry, I… was there something you wanted from me, or did you just want to talk to Cinder?”

Cardin’s blue eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Sunset straightened her back – and her tail. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“Are you? Are you really?”

Sunset glanced at Cardin, suppressing her irritation at the fact that he was calling her a liar. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Because you’re the leader of this group,” Cardin informed her. “Maybe not technically, but in every way that actually matters.”

“You’re not about to call me the heart of our little gang, are you?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cardin muttered. “Our little gang doesn’t have a heart.”

“Regrettably, you’re right,” Sunset replied. “Or at least far closer to the truth than I would like.”

“The point is,” Cardin continued, “that if we can’t have you at your best, then we need you to be at least close to good.”

“And you have,” Sunset insisted. “When the battle starts, I know what I’m doing, I proved that on the hilltop.”

“What happened on the hilltop?” Cardin demanded. “Or on the slope, rather? I didn’t see, and what people are saying... what happened, and why does it seem to be affecting you and Ruby?”

Sunset glanced at Cardin out of the side of her eyes. He had improved a great deal since they had first met, and overcome all of his annoying habits, but that didn’t change the fact that she just wasn’t as close to him as she was to either Cinder or Ruby. She wasn’t comfortable telling him about magic or Equestria in the way that she was with the two of them.

“It is nothing for you to be concerned with,” Sunset told him.

Cardin glared. “That sounds more like a brush-off than reassurance.”

“Well… it isn’t,” Sunset lied, even if only in part. “Whatever is going on with Ruby is between me and Ruby, and whatever happened down at the base of the hill… we won the battle, the day was saved; that’s all that matters.”

“The fact that you don’t do it more often matters a bit,” Cardin replied. “Do you enjoy watching us flail around?”

“No,” Sunset insisted, slightly wearily. “But… what I did in the battle… it takes a toll on me. That, if you must know, is why Ruby is… a little out of her humour with me at that moment.” That on top of everything else. “And that is why I don’t just take out the grimm with a snap of my fingers every time we come across them.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Sorry,” he muttered, “I just… it would be great if it was always that easy, wouldn’t it?”

“If it was always that easy, I’d always do it,” Sunset replied. “I would have made every other huntsman in Vale redundant by just wandering up and down killing grimm with the merest thought. And all fame and glory would have accrued to me in the process.”

“And I’d have been even more jealous of you than I was already,” Cardin added, “but right now… I’m glad you’re on our side.”

Sunset’s lips twitched. “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she murmured. She raised her voice, “I really do mean it, you know. I may look a little… whatever, but when the fighting starts, you can always count on me.”

Cardin hesitated, and then nodded. “I know,” he said, and Sunset mostly believed he was sincere. It was good enough for her, especially compared to the kind of reception she was getting in other quarters.

Sunset ran one hand through her hair of crimson and gold. “Enough about me, anyway. How are things with you?”

Cardin paused briefly. “Do you think I’d look good in a horned helmet?”

Sunset blinked. It took her more than a moment to wrap her mind around what a complete non sequitur that was. “Excuse me?”

“You know, like the clan warriors wear,” Cardin explained.

Sunset looked around. A great many of the warriors of the Frost Mountain Clan were indeed wearing helmets with great horns emerging from out of the sides. She had thought that they were their own horns – so many of them being yak faunus, after all – but since she knew that some of the clan were human, she guessed that some of the horns on these helmets were fake. “You… you think that’s a good look for anyone?”

“I think it looks pretty cool.”

“I think it looks pretty ridiculous,” Sunset replied. “I mean… you have the build for it, I suppose – you’re as big as some of these people – but at the same time… it’s a helmet with horns sticking out on either side; why would you want to bother?”

Cardin shrugged. “I’ve sometimes thought that it was a little dumb to wear armour that protects everything except my head.”

“You’re far from alone in that,” Sunset reminded him, thinking of Jaune and Pyrrha who did exactly the same thing.

“Doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t do something about it.”

“Then get a normal helmet; why do you want one with horns?”

“Because I like the way they look.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t, but… you do you, I suppose. I’m not sure it would go with your Valish uniform, though.”

Cardin looked down at the green jacket he was wearing over his armour. “No, you’re probably right. Eh, it was probably a stupid idea anyway.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Sunset assured him. “We’ve had a lot of those, recently.”

The only other person who seemed to want to talk to Sunset, as the column wound its way down the remains of the old Valish road, was one of the people that Sunset least wanted to talk to her: Sami, who caught up with Sunset as the sun began to descend towards the horizon. The column had not yet stopped to make camp for the night, although it could only be a matter of time before they did so, and the sick and ailing in the wagon in front of Sunset had all dozed off, succumbing to their weariness in spite of the discomfort of the journey and the fact that the wagon kept on rattling along. As the shadows lengthened, Sami jogged up the column until she was walking alongside Sunset, her eyes gleaming in the dying light.

“What?” Sunset demanded.

Sami grinned. “No need to take that tone, boss. After all, we’re all on the same team, right?”

Sunset glared at Sami, even as she was aware that the other girl had a point. They were all supposed to be on the same team, and as much as she might not trust Sami, she didn’t have the right to treat her like an enemy.

She inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. “Is there something I can help you with, Sami?”

“Actually, I was wondering if there was something I could help you with,” Sami replied. “A new best friend, maybe?”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“I couldn’t help but notice how all alone you are,” Sami said, gesturing around them both. “No Cinder, no Ruby-”

“What do you want, Sami?” Sunset demanded.

Sami was quiet for a moment. “When I got let out of my cell, I didn’t know what to make of you,” she said. “I still don’t know what to make of you.”

Sunset’s ears twitched. “What is it about me that baffles and mystifies you?”

“How about we start with the way you walk so small?” Sami suggested. “I don’t get it. You’ve got power. Real power. I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it, and I mean that literally after the light show a couple of nights ago. You’ve got power like no one else I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s just a semblance,” Sunset muttered.

“Oh, bull!” Sami snapped. “I’ve been over the mountain a few times, and I haven’t forgotten what Emerald told me before she died. You don’t have to like me, but don’t talk to me like an idiot.”

Sunset looked at her. “Should I talk to you like somebody I don’t trust?” she asked.

Sami’s grin widened. “I don’t know what the Sun Queen has done to my people – maybe she’s made them really nice and friendly, and they frolic in the meadows picking flowers and singing songs all day – but I doubt it. But the Fall Forest Clan I know, the one that I remember, the one that I killed to get away from, they would have killed to get their hands on power like yours. My father would have taken the knife to his whole family to get his hands on one tenth of the power at your command. We spent years, generations, talking about the Old Blood and worshipping long-gone gods and hoping to get back the ability to make a few pretty lights appear in the palm of our hands. If my father had been able to do what you can do, it wouldn’t have been the Sun Queen sitting pretty in Freeport; it would have been the chief of the Fall Forest Clan ruling the roost. Hell, he might even have crossed the mountains one last time and tried to take over Vale.”

“If he had, he would have discovered that he was severely overestimating the extent of my power,” Sunset replied.

“Maybe,” Sami conceded. “But the fact remains that you’ve got strength. You’ve got real power. So what are you doing here? You don’t even have a collar around your neck any more, so why don’t you run? Why don’t you get out and carve yourself a place in the world that’s all your own where nobody can touch you?”

“Because there are more important things than power,” Sunset informed her.

“Like what?”

“Friendship, loyalty-”

Sami snorted. “If those things are so important, then where are your friends? Where’s their loyalty to you?”

“Shut up.”

“Cinder, Ruby, where are they?”

“I told you-”

“They’re scared of you, because real power frightens those who-”

“I told you to shut your mouth!” Sunset snapped, and her hand glowed with green light as she telekinetically grabbed Sami by the neck and hoisted her up into the air. A haze of green light like a choker wrapped around Sami’s throat, a choker that could tighten if Sunset willed it so.

Sunset glared up at her, teeth bared, ears flattened against the top of her head. “Not. Another. Word,” she growled. “Not about Cinder or Ruby!”

Sami’s eyes were wide with fear, but the smile on her face remained. “Sure thing,” she agreed. She chuckled. “You know, I think I am starting to understand you a little better after all.”

It’s funny. When Sami arrived, I wanted someone to talk to, and by the time she was done, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

I have to say that I don’t find this particularly funny, in any sense.

No, you’re quite right; it isn’t funny at all.

In the first place, I don’t see how you can stand being around someone like that. A murderer, someone who has killed many people.

Sunset sighed. No, there’s nothing like that in Equestria, I admit. When I first came to Remnant, it wasn’t the grimm that horrified me the most; it was what humans and faunus were capable of doing to one another.

I’m not trying to blame you, but it saddens me a little that you’ve become inured to it.

I haven’t become inured to it. You’re right, Sami is an awful person, and I trust her far less than I could pick her up and throw her. I would explain to you exactly how it is that I stand being around her, but the truth is that I don’t, not really. Or at least I didn’t in this case.

No, I don’t suppose picking someone up by the neck using your telekinesis doesn’t really count as tolerating someone’s presence.

Is this where you tell me that just because someone is obnoxious and possibly evil that it’s still wrong to treat them like that?

No, this is where I tell you that you should have taken Cinder up on her offer and given her those rings.

The rings had nothing to do with the way that I treated Sami. I wasn’t wearing them at the time.

That’s even more concerning, because it means that the effects of the rings upon your personality are starting to linger beyond your use of the rings themselves. I told you when you talked me into helping you with this that dark magic takes its toll upon whoever wields it. Once you start making use of powers like that, then they start to make use of you in turn. Think about what you did to Sami.

Sami had it coming.

Leaving that aside, the Sunset I’ve come to know wouldn’t have behaved like that.

Sunset winced. Perhaps I just don’t reveal all the worst parts of myself to you.

I think you overestimate the extent to which you’re capable of curating your image for me and Princess Celestia. The fact remains that you are more angry than you were before you started using those rings.

If only it was that simple.

There was a pause before Twilight began to write at the other end of the magical link. What do you mean?

I mean that I don’t think that this anger is being created out of nothing; rather, it’s simply being brought to the surface. The anger that I felt towards Vale when I fought on the mountain, the anger that I felt towards Ruby, that’s inside of me. That doesn’t go away when I take the rings off.

But it would lessen if you didn’t use them.

If I don’t use them, people die. I may hate Ruby because of the influence of this magic, but at least she’s alive!

Do you? Hate Ruby, I mean?

No. At least I hope not.

How do you feel about her?

I don’t know.

Try and put it into words.

Why do you care?

Because I care about you. And so does Celestia.

That, I can just about understand, but what about you? Why do you care about me? We’ve never met outside of this book. So what does it matter to you that I’m slipping into the grip of dark magic, that I barely know who I am any more, that the person I did all this for can’t stand me and thinking about that makes me so Sunset stopped, before she gave too much away. What does any of that matter to you?

Helping those who have lost their way is what the Princess of Friendship does.

Sunset snorted. So I am just a project for you after all.

I admit, that’s how it started. And from time to time, I must admit, I go back to thinking that you might be in need of that kind of assistance. I’m sorry about the distance between you and Ruby.

I have no one to blame but myself.

I’m sure that doesn’t make it any easier for you to bear.

No, it doesn’t, but I don’t want commiseration. What I wouldn’t mind is if the Princess of Friendship has any good advice on how I can make things right between us.

Unfortunately, I’m just not certain. I’d like to say that a true friend will always forgive you – I’m fortunate enough to say that that’s always been my experience – but at the same time, Ruby doesn’t seem to have forgiven you yet, and I admit that I’ve never trespassed against my friends in so grave a fashion or had them trespass against me that way.

Thank you for reminding me that what I did was unforgivable.

That wasn’t my intent, but I’m sorry. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I hope Cinder’s right, that Ruby will remember that she cares about you. And in the meantime, it might be for the best if you don’t show how jealous you are of her cousin. As far as she’s concerned, this is a good thing going on in her life, and she’s likely to react badly if you try and take that away from her.

So I have to put up with Sunsprite’s condescension?

I put up with Discord. I’m sure you can manage.

I resent that enormously. I thought we were friends?

You ruined my day with Cadance by making us go on a life-threatening quest to get you some medicine! And then it turned out you were just faking it the entire time!

Why are you telling me this? Although it does sound like a fascinating story.

Which is why I’m copying Twilight’s words into the book for you, Sunset.

Discord! Go away! Okay, he’s gone now. My magic is holding the pen once more. The point is, there are some things – and some people – you just have to suffer through for the sake of your friends.

I know, I know. I just wish Ruby’s cousin could be a little easier to get along with. Speaking of the denizens of Freeport, have you had any luck in identifying the whereabouts of the portal between Equestria and Remnant yet?

I think – and I hasten to add that this is only a theory – that I know the rough location of the portal; there have been a couple of reports of unusual phenomena in the southeast, not far from a dragon colony.

It would be the southeast, wouldn’t it? A dragon colony? I’m pretty sure it’s a pony who fell through the crack between worlds, not a dragon.

I said 'near a dragon colony,' not 'in a dragon colony.' There are ponies who live that far south, albeit fewer and further between than farther north. Which is why these phenomena have gone unnoticed until now. I’m about to head down there with Spike and Starlight Glimmer, and I’ve asked the Dragon Lord Ember to meet us in case she’s noticed anything unusual in her territory.

You know the dragon lord?

Spike recently helped her take power.

Another fascinating story. You don’t tell me anything about yourself.

I love my life, but you sometimes make it seem very boring by comparison with your own.

Your assistant just helped the new dragon lord assume power!

And you just found out that your doppelgänger is the queen of a fledgling kingdom. How do you feel about that, by the way?

Let’s just say that I wish I liked myself enough to trust the other me and leave it at that. Actually, let’s not leave it at that, and let’s say that I’m hoping that, after my display, she’ll want to get rid of me badly enough that she’ll just surrender a boat and let me get on it. But seriously, I would love to hear some stories of your adventures. Or just your life. You don’t talk about yourself often enough.

Okay, if you don’t mind. But before that, there’s something else that I need to discuss with you.

Sure.

I’m not going to teach you that time travel spell.

Sunset stared down at the page. She blinked. She… Twilight couldn’t mean what the words said, could she? What do you mean, you’re not going to teach me the spell?

I’m sorry, but I just don’t think it’s a good idea.

Why not? Twilight, I don’t think you understand how much I need this!

Like you needed dark magic?

Yes! Lives are at stake here!

At what cost? Look at how much damage you’re doing to yourself with dark magic; think what you could do with time travel.

Oh, so this is really about the fact that you don’t trust me?

I didn’t say that.

You didn’t have to.

I told you that I needed to think about it, and I have thought about it

And decided that you don’t trust me. How am I supposed to tell Ruby that I can’t bring her sister back? Twilight, I need this. If I can’t do this for her, I’m going to lose her, for good maybe. Answer me that: how am I supposed to tell her?

I don’t know. I can’t imagine how difficult it will be for her to hear this, but it doesn’t change my decision that this power is better off unused.

So it’s okay for you to use it, but not me? Nice to know what you really think.

I was only trying to repair the damage caused by

Thanks a lot, Twilight.

Sunset slammed the book shut and tossed it aside. It didn’t bounce, thankfully; it just hit the ground with a heavy thump and lay there beside her.

Sunset folded her arms as a scowl settled upon her face.

“Sunset?”

Sunset looked up in surprise. Yona stood in front of her, the little yak girl holding something cradled in her hands as she looked at Sunset with wariness in her olive-green eyes.

A little way behind her, Sunset could see Prince Rutherford looming nearby, watching the way that Sunset dealt with his niece.

Sunset unfolded her arms and tried to muster a smile. “Good evening, Yona.”

“Sunset Shimmer okay?” Yona asked nervously.

Sunset tried to make her smile look a little more genuine, or at least a little more inviting. “Sure, Yona, I’m fine. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yona made this for Sunset,” Yona said, holding out the object in her hands. It turned out to be a pair of little wooden carvings: a horse – or perhaps to call it a pony might have been more appropriate – carved out of some light wood like silver birch, and a yak carved out of dark ebony. “Yona wanted to say thank Sunset for saving Frost Mountain Clan.”

Sunset stared down at the little wooden carvings. They were exquisitely well-made for such simple things. “You… made these yourself?”

Yona shifted uncomfortably. “Uncle Prince Rutherford helped.”

Sunset chuckled. “I’ll bet he did, but thank you anyway, both of you.” She reached out gingerly to pluck them out of Yona’s hands. Before she could lay hands upon them, Sunset stopped, “You’re not afraid of me? Of what I did?”

Yona frowned. “Why Yona be afraid of Sunset? Sunset fight for Frost Mountain Clan. Sunset keep Frost Mountain Clan safe from grimm.”

Sunset blinked. She felt… she felt tears springing to her eyes. “Thank you, Yona,” she said, taking the wooden carvings. “This, this means a lot.”

Yona stared at Sunset for a moment, then dived on top of her, tackling Sunset flat onto her back on the ground – Sunset squawked in startled alarm – with Yona’s weight pressing down upon her chest… and Yona’s arms wrapped around her neck.

Yona’s hair felt like soft lambs’ wool against Sunset’s cheek.

“Thank Sunset, Sunset Shimmer,” Yona said.

Sunset closed her eyes, and gingerly put her arms around Yona in turn. “Yona welcome.”

Grandfather

Grandfather

A single blast upon the horn heralded the arrival of the Summer Fire Clan.

They had no Rangers for escort, but nevertheless, the Ranger who first spotted them gave but a single blast upon the horn as a sign they meant no harm, and Ruby spotted no wariness amongst either Sunsprite’s Rangers or the Frost Mountain Clan as they waited for the other clan to join them.

“Do you trust them?” Ruby asked as Sunsprite waited, seemingly untroubled by anything that was going on, patting her horse upon the neck.

“I might not, under some chiefs,” Sunsprite admitted, “but the Summer Fire Clan take their cue from the one who leads them, and Ember is an honourable woman. She has bent the knee to the Sun Queen and to Freeport, and she will not now break the queen’s peace.” She was silent for a moment. “Not unless she feels that Freeport and the Queen have betrayed her first, and she has been given no grounds to think so.”

“Summer Fire nicest clan to know,” Yona agreed as she bounced up and down slightly upon the balls of her feet in anticipation. “Smolder Yona’s best friend outside of Frost Mountain Clan, even if Smolder call Yona princess.” Yona pouted. “But Smolder great person other than that and make friends with Yona even though Smolder from Summer Fire and Yona from Frost Mountain Clan. Ember nice too; some from Summer Fire Clan say that Smolder and Yona not be friends because not from same clan, but Ember call them stupid and they not say anything any more.”

“Another point in her favour,” Sunsprite declared. “Ember understands better than most, certainly better than Prince Rutherford, what it is that the Sun Queen is doing out here in the wilds of Estmorland.”

“Sunsprite discuss Rutherford behind Rutherford’s back?” demanded the prince himself as he stomped up to join the three of them. He laughed jovially as he ruffled the thick hair on top of Yona’s head. “Sunsprite turn Yona against Uncle Rutherford?”

“Uncle Prince Rutherford,” Yona corrected him.

Prince Rutherford laughed again. “Yona excited for arrival of Summer Fire Clan?”

Yona nodded eagerly. “Yona not wait to see Smolder again, show Smolder that Ruby unlock Yona aura!”

“Indeed,” Prince Rutherford said, and his voice turned a little grave as his attention turned to Ruby. “Rutherford had hoped to unlock Yona aura,” he added reproachfully.

Ruby squeaked. “Well, you see, I just-”

“Thought all was lost, and end of all things drew near,” Prince Rutherford finished for her.

Ruby smiled nervously. “Something like that.”

“Ruby has given Yona precious gift,” Prince Rutherford said. Without warning, he grabbed Ruby by the shoulders and pulled her up and into an embrace so tight Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to snap her spine. “Gift for which Rutherford be grateful. Thank Ruby Rose, for all Ruby have done for Yona and Frost Mountain Clan.”

Ruby winced in pain. “It was nothing, really,” she muttered. “Sunsprite, help.”

Sunsprite made no move nor said any word to aid Ruby before Prince Rutherford set her down upon the ground. Ruby was left feeling very weak, and she must have wobbled a little bit, although thankfully, she didn’t fall over.

“Now, Sunsprite,” Prince Rutherford said, “what Sunsprite saying about Rutherford?”

“Nothing, Prince Rutherford,” Sunsprite assured him. “Save that you do not understand as well as Lady Ember what it is that the Sun Queen is trying to accomplish here.”

“Ember see worth in cage, true,” Prince Rutherford agreed. “Ember been strange places, and Summer Fire Clan strange people anyways. Ember see worth, but that Ember see it not make Ember right or Rutherford wrong.”

“No,” Sunsprite conceded, “but it does make her a little easier to deal with.”

Before too long, the Summer Fire Clan appeared, emerging from out of the woods to the northwest of the Frost Mountain Clan where they waited on the old Valish road – or the remains of the same – that carved through the lands. The Summer Fire Clan travelled on one of the lesser roads that had sprung off that one great road and which still survived; though woods had grown up all around it, the road itself had been maintained, probably because the wood made having some way to travel through it urgent.

Ruby watched, the afternoon sunshine falling upon her and her cloak hanging heavy in the still, calm air as she watched the Summer Fire Clan march out of the woods.

In some respects, the clan was similar to Ruby and her comrades’ hosts of the Frost Mountain Clan: they had a great many wagons, carts loaded with food, with supplies of all kinds, with those too old or young or sick to march. They had horses and mules and oxen; they drove livestock with them, sheep and goats and cattle. But the Summer Fire Clan did not swathe themselves in furs as the Frost Mountain Clan did, and their warriors did not dress in mail and leather; their armour was finer than that. Many – most – of the warriors of the Summer Fire Clan were armoured in what looked like gleaming bronze, or at the very least in suits of metal, cuirasses and greaves and vambraces, with helmets that covered their faces from view and left their eyes concealed by shadow. The gaps in the armour were protected by what looked like the skin of some kind of scaled beast, and even those who did not have suits of armour wore such scales for protection. They were armed with spears and halberds and had shields of hide that were almost as large as they were. Their warriors did not look so broad-shouldered and muscular as the people of the Frost Mountain Clan, but they were tall, and they looked strong enough to Ruby as they protected the vulnerable members of their community, spreading out as the column emerged from out of the woods to screen it from attack on either flank.

They were all on foot. Ruby saw none mounted, although she worked out a moment later that that was because a lot of them were faunus with leather wings sprouting from out of their backs which would allow them to take flight at a moment’s notice – some of them rose into the air as they cleared the trees – and Ruby guessed that meant that they didn’t need to ride horses like the yak faunus of the Frost Mountain Clan.

They were led by a slight and slender figure in armour that, if it wasn’t gold, at least gleamed like it, with a pair of leathery wings half-unfurled behind her and wearing a helmet adorned with a pair of horns jutting downwards from the side of the head. In one hand, they bore a sceptre, set with a glowing red gem, or perhaps a fire dust crystal; it was too far away for Ruby to say for sure.

Not far away from them walked a tall, broad-shouldered man, armoured but with his head bared, revealing a shock of fiery red hair, and a dusky-skinned young girl about Yona’s age, with hair of orange, save for two streaks of blonde running down the sides of her head and another of purple running down the middle like a crest.

From the way that Yona cried out excitedly and started running across the open field separating the two clans, her braids flying on either side of her head, Ruby guessed that this was the Smolder Yona had told her about. Ruby chuckled a little as she, Sunsprite, and Prince Rutherford followed – at a slightly more sedate pace – Yona’s run towards the Summer Fire Clan. Ruby wondered idly why Vesper Radiance, the Sun Queen herself, wasn’t joining them – perhaps she trusted Sunsprite to tell her anything worth telling – but it was hard not to get swept up in Yona’s enthusiasm for the reunion with her friend from another clan, another people.

The Frost Mountain Clan might have their objections to being put in a cage, they might say that their way was superior to the way of the kingdoms, but as Ruby watched Yona run towards her friend, she thought that this, this was what made the ambitions of the Sun Queen worthwhile, even more than Sunsprite’s fears and carefully thought-out arguments about the need to defend the people of this land. Yona and Smolder were from different clans, from different peoples, one might even say from different worlds, and yet, they were – on Yona’s part at least – friends, and those ties of friendship would bring the clans together and hold them together even if Vesper Radiance dropped dead this very day. It was kind of like what Professor Ozpin – all of the Professor Ozpins – had tried to do with the Vytal Festival and the exchanges of students between the four academies where they could meet and study and learn to fight the grimm together.

As she watched Yona run, a little laugh escaped from Ruby’s lips, and she sincerely hoped that it worked out for the people here.

Things might have to change if the kingdom came together as the Sun Queen desired, but it would be for the best, Ruby was sure of that.

She couldn’t think of a better alternative.

The girl – Smolder – ran in front of her two companions towards the rapidly approaching Yona, with the two meeting not so much in the middle – they were still far closer to the Summer Fire Clan than to the Frost Mountain Clan – but at least between the two groups.

Ruby laughed again as Yona inadvertently tackled Smolder to the ground as she embraced her in a hug.

“Yona miss Smolder!” Yona cried.

“Smolder miss Yona too,” Smolder said fondly, patting Yona on the shoulders. “Smolder also miss the feeling in her back.”

“Yona sorry,” she apologised, picking Smolder up off the ground and hoisting her up in the air. “Check out Yona strength! Yona new friend Ruby Rose unlock Yona aura!”

“You’ve had your aura unlocked?” Smolder gasped. “Hey, Garble, when are you going to unlock my aura?”

The big young man, whose name was apparently Garble, chuckled. “What does a pipsqueak like you need aura for? You can just hide behind me if there’s any trouble.”

“Aww, come on, Yona had her aura unlocked!”

“Is that so?” a female voice issued from out of the helmet of the lithe figure in the gleaming armour. Now that she was closer to it, Ruby could see that the gilded plates were joined together by brown leather, putting her a little in mind of Pyrrha’s armour. The figure removed their helmet, revealing a young woman with sharp features and high cheekbones, with crimson eyes enhanced by blue eyeshadow above and below. Her hair was a shock of deep blue, dyed white at the tips where it fell down beside her cheeks. Her voice acquired an edge of playful mockery to it as she said, “Well, Rutherford, are you so desperate that you’re putting children her age into the line of battle?”

“Yona too young to fight, but old enough to train, or near enough,” Prince Rutherford replied, “but not Rutherford who unlock Yona aura, but guest of Frost Mountain Clan, Ruby Rose.” He patted Ruby on the back hard enough to send her staggering forwards.

“Ruby Rose?”

“Greetings, Lady Ember,” Sunsprite said, placing one hand upon her heart and taking a step back with her left foot as she bowed about halfway to her waist. “Allow me to name my cousin, Ruby Rose, my mother’s sister-daughter, and a guest of the Frost Mountain Clan from over the mountains. Ruby, this is Ember, lady of the Summer Fire Clan.”

“From over the mountains?” Ember murmured. “You mean you’ve come from Vale?”

“Uh, yes,” Ruby replied, her uncertainty over how that fact would be received working its way into her tone.

“I’m sure there’s a fascinating story there,” Ember said, “but perhaps one best told around a fire when camped for the night. We should probably keep moving while there is daylight remaining.”

“Speaking of moving,” Sunsprite probed. “What brings the Summer Fire Clan to this part of Estmorland?”

“I could just as easily ask what brings the Frost Mountain Clan so far east at this time of year.”

“Frost Mountain Clan escort Ruby Rose and companions to Freeport,” Prince Rutherford declared.

“That’s a lucky coincidence; we’re bound for Freeport ourselves,” Ember said.

“To what end?” Sunsprite asked.

Ember hesitated for a moment, glancing behind her. Her face fell, and her tone became soft and heavy with shame as she admitted, “To ask for help. The grimm have set upon us; we need Freeport’s protection, and possibly assistance from the Rangers.”

“The grimm?” Sunsprite inquired.

“Indeed,” Ember muttered. “Our foraging parties have been killed, and the defences of our camp have been tested. Our people are safe, but we have paid for it with the lives of brave warriors. They came at us from the north and west and drove us eastwards.”

“We were attacked by grimm ourselves at King’s Camp, and in great number,” Sunsprite said, “but we have seen no sign of them since.”

“They haven’t bothered us for a couple of days, but I don’t want to take any chances,” Ember replied. “Once we reach Freeport I will ask the Queen to send out scouts to find out how bad the grimm situation is across the region.”

“And I am sure she will oblige,” Sunsprite declared. “I would be happy to lead such a party myself, once I have introduced my cousin to our grandfather.”

“As I said, a fascinating story,” Ember said. “Well met, Ruby Rose; I’m Ember, and this is my court poet Garble.”

“'Court poet'?” Garble spluttered. “I’m your bodyguard!”

“Oh, please, like I need a bodyguard,” Ember replied easily, a teasing smile gracing her features. “And over there is Garble’s sister Smolder.”

“Hey there,” Smolder said. “So, you’re the one who unlocked Yona’s aura? Could you unlock mine?”

“Probably not a great idea,” Ruby said uncertainly. “It’s a really personal thing, I wouldn’t have done it with Yona except… things looked pretty desperate.”

“'Desperate'?” Smolder repeated. “Yona, were you in danger?”

“Yona not scared!” Yona declared. “Not at all!”

“With our clans combined, there will be less reason for anyone to be scared,” Ember said. “What do you say, Rutherford? Shall we join forces on the road to Freeport?”

Prince Rutherford reached out and clasped her hand. “Ember has much wisdom,” he declared. “Together, to Freeport.”

Ember nodded. “Together, to Freeport.”

Ruby and her father, alone of the company, dined with Sunsprite and the clan chiefs that night. That was… not as unusual as it might seem; Sunset had become a bit of a stranger to Ruby recently, ever since the battle on the hilltop, and Ruby… well, Ruby wasn't altogether sure that was a bad thing. She couldn't forget the way that Sunset had looked at her when Ruby had asked her to take off the rings which – she had guessed, and apparently guessed right – were giving Sunset the risky power boost that she had talked of. Ruby had told Sunset there was no more need for them, and in return, Sunset had looked at her with undisguised hostility.

She had taken the rings off for Cinder, though. Not for the first time, Ruby felt a twinge of jealousy run through her as she contemplated Sunset's closeness to Cinder Fall. Cinder was their enemy, or had been their enemy at least. She had plotted against them, fought against them, unleashed the White Fang and the grimm upon them and on Vale, and yet, none of that seemed to bother Sunset at all. It made Ruby feel irritated, even angry sometimes, when she had to watch them both being so friendly to one another as though they hadn't, between them, gotten Yang killed and so many other horrible things besides. Sunset said that she wanted to be forgiven, Sunset said that she wanted to make up for what she'd done, but then she went and hung around with monsters like Cinder! Even if Cinder was trying to be a good person now too, it didn't mean that she ought to be forgiven just like that. And yet, Sunset seemed to have no suspicions about her whatsoever.

Maybe it was a good thing that Sunset wasn't there; Ruby felt as though the two of them had been growing apart ever since the Battle of Vale. Or at least, sometimes, she did. Sometimes, she wanted everything to be just the way it was when they were at Beacon; other times, she wanted nothing to do with Sunset at all.

She wasn't sure how she would feel in the end, but she wasn't missing Sunset tonight, sitting with her father around the fire while Garble played bongo drums softly, and Smolder and Yona swapped stories about all the things they'd seen and done since they met last.

"So Ruby saved you twice, huh?" Smolder asked.

"Yona only needed to be saved once," Ruby corrected, "and it was my team that did all the saving."

"Yeah, Smolder, Yona only need saving once."

"Once this time, but… you do get into trouble a lot," Smolder said.

"That not true! Smolder take that back!"

"I've watched you almost die, like… three times since I've known you," Smolder said. "I'm pretty sure that's not normal."

"I don't know," Ruby said, with a touch of nervous laughter. "I feel like I've almost died a lot more often than that over the last year."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not normal either," Smolder declared. "Have you considered that maybe you just suck at being a huntress?"

"Hey!" Ruby snapped. "I happen to be an amazing huntress, an amazing huntress who happens to get involved in a lot of dangerous missions."

"Where you almost die," Ember reminded her. The firelight danced in her crimson eyes as she looked at Taiyang. "And you allow this? It doesn't worry you?"

"I don't think I'd be human if it didn't worry me, but that doesn't mean I should hold Ruby back or that I could even if I wanted to. She has too much of her mother in her."

Sunsprite nodded. "Those with silver eyes-"

"It has nothing to do with Summer's silver eyes," Taiyang insisted. "She could have had blue eyes, or green, or even brown, and it still wouldn't have changed who she was. Summer's eyes didn't make her a great huntress; her heart did that, and her courage."

"The strength of a silver-eyed warrior is not in a power that few among us unlock and fewer master, to be sure," Sunsprite conceded, "but in our warrior hearts and noble, warlike spirits, but these things are not sprung out of air nor gifted at random; they are passed down to us in our blood from those that went before us. It was my aunt's blood that made her what she was, as it makes me, as it makes Ruby."

"I don't believe that either," Taiyang replied. "No offence, but I don't believe that we're born predestined to be a certain way or a certain thing; you raise your children right, with love and kindness, you let them figure out their dreams and clear the way for them to work towards them, and they'll turn out okay. Or you don't, and they won't."

"What about Uncle Qrow?" Ruby asked. "His family were bandits, but he turned out alright."

"Your brother was raised by bandits?" Sunsprite repeated, in a tone of mild incredulity.

"He's not exactly my… it's complicated," Taiyang said softly. "And private."

Sunsprite hesitated for a moment, before she nodded her head. "Of course," she murmured. "Forgive me; trespass was not my intent."

"It's fine," Tai assured her. "It's just that… our family has its complications, some of which I'd rather not share with strangers."

"Amongst my people, we believe as you do," Ember said. "We aren't what we're born, but what we make of ourselves. My father was the lord of the Summer Fire Clan, but I did not succeed him by mere blood right; I triumphed over my rivals in a contest of speed, strength, agility, and wits to be acclaimed as the next lord of our clan once my father stepped down. If I have children, then it won't necessarily be them who takes my place; it might be Smolder, if she's tough enough."

"Hey, what about me?" Garble demanded.

"You wouldn't want to fight against your own sister, would you?" Ember asked playfully.

"Summer Fire Clan way dangerous," Prince Rutherford muttered. "What if rival hold malice against Ember for besting them in contest? When Rutherford too old to lead, will fall to Yona, as fell to Rutherford when father too old to lead. All know this. All accept it. It is old way, passed down from ancestors."

"The old ways are changing," Ember pointed out.

"Not all things old should be broken," Prince Rutherford replied.

"Nor should they all be preserved," Ember declared. "Have you forgotten why the Summer Fire Clan bent the knee to the Sun Queen? Have you forgotten when?"

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked.

Ember looked at her. "We were about to go to war," she said.

Ruby's eyes widened. "Against each other? The Frost Mountain Clan against the Summer Fire Clan?"

"Rutherford forget what argument about," Rutherford admitted.

"I remember that I could have fallen on you in the night, but I – in my honour – gave you until dawn to draw up your troops for battle," Ember said.

"And Rutherford remember that Frost Mountain Clan were sheltered in strong place, beneath sacred stones," Prince Rutherford declared. "Had Summer Fire Clan spent one hundred years, could not have driven Frost Mountain Clan out."

"Can you two skip to the part where you became friends?" Smolder asked.

Ember smirked. "That happened on the morning of the battle. We had drawn up our warriors at the base of the hill, ready to attack, while Prince Rutherford's forces were ready to receive us at the top. And then…" She looked at Sunsprite. "Do you wish to tell this part?"

Sunsprite chuckled. "A thin line of Freeport Rangers appeared on the battlefield and rode between the two armies, separating them. The Sun Queen led us personally, and all her closest companions; she spoke with Lady Ember and Prince Rutherford and-"

"And convinced me that there was nothing we could be fighting over that was worth the cost," Ember declared. "She convinced me to make peace, for the greater good of our people and this entire land. And on that day, too, she gained my allegiance, for having opened my eyes to things I should have seen long ago. She is a visionary."

"Rutherford took more convincing," Rutherford muttered.

"Because of the Queen's peace, Smolder and Yona can talk and play and argue with one another instead of growing up hating each other!" Ember said. "Isn't that worth more than a few old traditions? Is there anything in the world worth more than that, anything at all?"

"No," Ruby said softly. "Nothing."

Ember smiled. "You'll like it in Freeport, I think."

"I know you will," Sunsprite added.

"How much farther?" Ruby asked.

"Not long," Sunsprite replied. "Not long now at all."

It took two more days, just two, before the column, greatly lengthened but also strengthened in defence by the addition of the Summer Fire Clan, reached the walls of Freeport and gazed upon the city as the noonday sun hovered directly over the highest tower within the walls.

Freeport reminded Ruby of a more ramshackle Vale; it was a mixture of the old and the new, the sturdily built and the hastily thrown up, works intended to be permanent mingling with those that looked as though they might fall apart any moment and not be missed overmuch if they did.

Ruby guessed that there had been a town here predating Freeport itself; perhaps the Valish had built it when they reached the end of the road west, or perhaps the Mistralians had founded it as the cornerstone of their colonisation efforts before the Great War. Or perhaps it was both, for amongst the older – and the better built – buildings in the town, there were Mistralian-style pagodas and slope-roofed houses, alongside more Valish styles of antique architecture, square houses and buildings out of visible brick or wattle and daub.

The remains of a Mistralian gateway, a proud arch with an inscription in some ancient tongue proclaiming something Ruby could not read still stood on the edge of the town, albeit absent the wall which had stood on either side of it, fallen away or looted for the stone. Here and there, fragments of a Valish wall yet endured, some twelve feet high with crenellated battlements upon the top, but in between those fragments were barriers of iron sheets – corrugated or otherwise – with wooden towers rising behind them atop which stood sentries manning light machine guns from the Great War.

Amidst the crumbling remnants of a Valish castle, a single tower, the tallest building in Freeport by some distance, rose up into the sky before ending at a flat top from which someone might stand and watch the stars or keep watch for their enemies or simply feel the wind upon their face or do all three.

Closer to the harbour rose a second, smaller tower, reminding Ruby of the White Tower in Mistral, narrow and tapering to a point like the tip of a spear as it cast a shadow over the ocean beyond.

In amongst these survivors of bygone days had sprouted up newer buildings; they were after the fashion of the barricades that ringed the town, which was to say that they were crudely built and seemed to be made out of whatever was to hand: scrap metal and looted stone and lots and lots of wood. Some of the places Ruby could see from her high vantage point looked more like sheds than houses, but she supposed that the people here – the people who were building Freeport both from scratch and out of ruins at the same time, if that made any sense – were trying their best and living as best they could.

Looking around her, Ruby could see why both the Valish and the Mistralians had decided to build their port here, upon this spot. The bay was an excellent place to moor ships, and at the shore, Ruby could see a forest of masts springing up from the flotilla of small craft – junks and trawlers and yachts – which lay at anchor in the bay.

A lagoon to the south and a steep and jagged-looking mountain to the north protected Freeport against attack from either direction, meaning that any enemy must come directly from the west. On the landward side, Freeport was ringed with hills, like the one on which Ruby and Sunsprite stood looking down upon the city, but those hills were fortified with earthworks and ditches and manned with troops in rough, homespun browns and butternuts, with old machine guns, rifles, bows, and crossbows. Another ditch had been dug before the walls themselves, leaving an even approach only before the gate: a crude metal thing that sat awkwardly within the arch of the otherwise elegant, old-fashioned gatehouse.

“This is Freeport,” Sunsprite declared, a smile on her face as she beheld it. “This is the seat of the Sun Queen, the heart that drives the expansion of Estmorland… and the home of our family.”

“'Our family'?” Ruby repeated.

Sunsprite looked at her, and her smile was gentle, warm like a pleasant summer sun. “He is your grandfather as much as he is mine. You are a Rose as much as I am. You belong here as much as I do.”

“I don’t know about that,” Ruby murmured, for all that she liked the sound of it. It was impossible – she couldn’t stay here very long – but even so, she liked the sound of it. Her home in Patch had been destroyed, Beacon was gone… it would be nice to have a home here, even if she had to leave it behind. She smiled back. “It’s not really what I expected...”

“What did you expect?” Sunsprite asked.

Ruby hesitated. “I… don’t know,” she admitted.

Sunsprite chuckled. “Not all of Freeport is particularly lovely to look on… or smell,” she conceded, “but it is more than just a cluster of huts, as so many towns in this land are. See the smoke rising from those chimneys?” she pointed to a pair of crude-looking smokestacks belching black smoke out into the sky; it was fortunate that the wind was blowing north, or the smoke might have blocked the sun from view.

Taiyang stood just a little way behind Ruby and said, “Are they making something there?”

“They are refining dust,” Sunsprite said.

Taiyang’s eyebrows rose. “You mine dust here?”

“The mines are a little way to the south; they call it Little Freeport,” Sunsprite explained. “The dust is mined and then brought to Freeport proper to be processed.”

“And the Sun Queen controls all of it.”

“It is our most valuable resource for defence,” Sunsprite replied. “And, to speak plain, I think our refining capabilities are as nothing compared to what you are capable of in your kingdoms. I have heard the Sun Queen speak of a place called Atlas, where so much dust is refined in a day as would supply all our Rangers for a year’s service… we must ration it carefully; that being so, should not the Queen have charge of it and bestow it only upon those who have the most need of it and whom she trusts the most?”

“Those two things… might not be the same,” Ruby said. “Just because the Sun Queen doesn’t trust them doesn’t mean they don’t need dust.”

“If they want dust, then let them earn the Queen’s trust,” Sunsprite replied severely. She waved one hand away dismissively. “Enough of this, would you like to see our grandfather?”

“I- yes!” Ruby cried. “I would-”

“Then climb on,” Sunsprite said, patting the shoulder of her horse with one hand. “We will ride together. I take it, sir, that you have no objections to me absconding with your daughter for a family reunion?”

“No,” Taiyang said, “but-”

“Don’t you have stuff to take care of first?” Ruby asked of Sunsprite, cutting her father off. “Like, what about your patrol, or the rest of our group, or the clans?”

“All can manage without me, just as your comrades can manage without you,” Sunsprite replied. “My Rangers know where to stable their horses, and most will be as anxious to return to their families as I am. Prince Rutherford and Lady Ember have both been to this city before and know well where to camp their clans. As for your company…” she turned. “Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset’s pony ears twitched at being called upon. She had been talking with Prince Rutherford – about what, Ruby did not know – but now, she looked towards Sunsprite, although she seemed to avoid Ruby’s gaze.

“You can take care of your comrades while I take Ruby to meet her grandfather, can you not?” Sunsprite demanded.

Sunset snorted. “I am quite capable of leading my force, thank you,” she said proudly. “You may go where you like.”

“Thank you,” Sunsprite said, ignoring Sunset’s rudeness. “Vesper Radiance will see you settled as the Queen’s guests. Vesper! Take care of our new arrivals; I’m sure it will please the queen to have them comfortably situated.”

“Of course,” Vesper replied from where she sat atop her horse a few feet away. “I shall dispose of all of them as the Queen would no doubt wish for them to be disposed.”

“You have my thanks,” Sunsprite said. To Taiyang, she added, “I give you my word, Ruby shall be safe with me.”

Taiyang laughed. “Don’t worry. I know that my Ruby can take care of herself. Go. Meet your grandfather. We’ll catch up soon enough.”

Ruby grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

Sunsprite swung herself up into the saddle of her horse, then with one hand, she grabbed Ruby and hauled her smaller cousin up after her, setting her down in front of Sunsprite, with the latter's arms wrapped around her as she grasped at the reins.

"Are you ready?" Sunsprite asked.

"Yes," Ruby murmured, because as much as she felt nervous at the prospect of meeting her grandfather – her grandfather! – she also couldn't wait. A breathless exhilaration gripped her as Sunsprite nudged her mount with her knees and set the horse galloping down the hill and following the dirt road to the gates of Freeport. Ruby felt so breathless, it was almost as if she were the horse running towards the town with dirt flying as her hooves churned the sod beneath them. Her breath came as quickly and as shallowly as if she had been running.

Sunsprite took one hand off the reins to place it reassuringly on Ruby's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Are you nervous?"

"A… yes," Ruby murmured. "Your grandfather… won't we have to tell him that… that…?"

"It has been guessed already, so long has it been," Sunsprite informed her. "His mourning tears were shed long since. There will be only joy at meeting you; do not fear."

The horse descended down the slope and approached the metal gates that barred the entrance through the ancient archway. A single blast upon a horn had blown from the hilltops ere the Rangers and the clans drew near, and now, as the Rose cousins approached the gate – with Sunsprite's yellow cape flying out behind her – the gate was drawn back wide enough to admit mount and Roses all alike.

Sunsprite did not stop to thank those who had opened the gate, nor to address the guards upon it. Her horse showed them the meaning of haste as, guided by Sunsprite's firm grip on the reins, it rode through streets unpaved or cobbled, where the names of the roads were daubed on bits of wood haphazardly nailed to the nearest convenient surface, where men and women in rough, homespun garb sold food and clothes from barrows, and children, playing in the streets, scrambled to get out of their way.

Sunsprite and her bay mare brought Ruby to a cul-de-sac, a square accessible only by a single road, and that the road they had just taken. The buildings here were haphazardly thrown up and crudely made, mostly wood but clad in places in corrugated iron and sheets of plain scrap metal. Sunsprite dismounted first, then helped Ruby down to the ground – there were no stones here either, just dirt beneath her feet – before hitching her horse to a post at the rear of the square. A boy who had been loitering around the fringe of the square rushed to take care of the horse.

"Here," Sunsprite said, gesturing up a set of wooden stairs to a door painted yellow at the top. "Up these steps." Sunsprite led the way, with Ruby following up the creaking wooden stairs, and as she climbed, Sunsprite threw back her cloak to reach into a little pouch at her belt, from which she produced an iron key.

"I would like to tell you that Freeport is so well-governed that the Queen's Peace alone guarantees that I can leave my door unlocked when I am away on a ranging, but sadly, it is not so," Sunsprite confessed. "The old couple who live below have another key; they take care of Grandfather when I am away, but I ask that they lock the door again when they are done."

"Your… our grandfather… he can't take care of himself?" Ruby asked.

Sunsprite glanced at Ruby, her remaining eye filled with melancholy, an unhappy downward turn to her mouth, but she said nothing as she unlocked the door and opened it.

Ruby quickly followed her inside a dark and dimly lit apartment, one that had no interior walls, just a few screens that did not reach all the way to the ceiling to separate off parts of the space. It did not seem homely to her, more like a place that someone existed in than where they lived; there was a stove in the corner, and a washtub, and a few chairs that, if they were not homemade, had at least been cobbled together by somebody. But there was no life to it that Ruby could see, no sign that this was a place where someone enjoyed being and spending their time.

"Grandfather," Sunsprite called, as she placed a gentle hand on Ruby's back and guided her around one of the screens that divided the space. "I have returned with wonderful news."

"Wonderful news?" an old man's voice replied, hoarse and creaking. "What news, Sunsprite?"

Ruby stepped around the screen and could not restrain the gasp that escaped her lips.

The old man, her grandfather, lay in bed, the only thing in the entire apartment that looked even a little comfortable. His hair was grey where it was not turned white, and his skin was lined and wrinkled with the years, the jowls of his cheeks sagging. He did not have a beard, but he did have grey stubble colonising those same sagging cheeks and around his mouth. His arms were thin, like slender twigs in danger of snapping, and his veins and bones alike stood out like ridges rising above the ground.

But it was his eyes, more than anything else, that had made Ruby gasp: they were milky white, and blind.

He could not see her, though his face turned futilely this way and that. "Who's there?" he cried. "Sunsprite, is someone with you?"

"Yes, Grandfather," Sunsprite said softly. "I've brought someone to see you." She pushed Ruby a step forward. "This is Ruby Rose, Aunt Summer's daughter."

Now it was Grandfather's turn to gasp. "Summer? Summer's girl?"

"Y-yes," Ruby said, her voice tremulous and shaking. "Summer Rose was my mom. It… it's nice to meet you."

Grandfather was silent for a moment. His lip trembled. "You… Sunsprite, you are sure of this?"

"She has the eyes," Sunsprite declared, as though that settled the matter.

Grandfather nodded weakly. "Ah," he murmured, and then fell quiet. "Summer… Summer's girl come home, gods be praised!" He let out a sort of laugh and sat up in bed. "You said your name was Ruby?"

"Yes," she said. "Ruby Rose."

"A pretty name," Grandfather said. He held out his arms, for all that they shook. "Please, come closer, let me look at you."

Ruby approached, stepping softly forward, and as she approached, she gently reached out and took one of her grandfather's hands, and then the other. They were so light in her grip and felt so delicate, and even when her grandfather's hands closed around her own, Ruby barely felt his grip upon her. His skin was rough, worn and callused against her own, but his touch was gentle.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ruby Rose," he said gravely. "Welcome home, child of Summer." His tug told Ruby that he wished to be released from her hands, and so, Ruby let go and did not resist as his aged hands reached out to her, touching her shoulders, pausing upon her cape. "You wear a cloak, just as she did."

"Yes," Ruby agreed. "Though mine is red, not white."

Grandfather chuckled. "A family tradition; Summer and Tudor both got it from your grandmother, though she wore orange. Oh, how I wish she could have met you."

Ruby bowed her head a little. "I would have liked to meet her, too," she admitted, "but I'm glad that I have the chance to meet you, at least."

"And I you," Grandfather whispered. His hands explored Ruby's shoulders until they found her face, his trembling fingers resting upon her cheeks, delicately working their way up to her forehead, brushing at the fringes of her hair. Ruby did not move or speak. She didn't stop him prodding at her; she didn't resist the feel of his hands as they worked up or fell down again until they found her chin.

"You have her face," Grandfather cried, and tears sprang to the edges of his blind eyes. "Summer's face, exactly! Come closer, Ruby; let me embrace you."

Ruby did more than that; she stepped forward and put her arms around her grandfather's thin and bony frame, dropping her aura so that she wouldn't hurt him with her strength. She closed her eyes and laid her head upon his chest as she felt his slender arms wrap around her in turn.

They were weak, but at the same time, they felt so warm and welcoming.

"Summer's girl," he murmured in disbelief. "Welcome home, Ruby Rose. We have so much to talk of."

Tears sprang to the corners of Ruby's eyes as she tilted her head up and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm so glad to be here, Grandpa," she said. "I want to know everything."

Welcome to Freeport

Welcome to Freeport

Sunset stood upon the ridge, behind the earthwork fortifications that the folk of Freeport had raised to shield the town from assault, and looked down upon Freeport itself. Her eyes took in the farms that sprawled across the open space between the ramshackle wall and the hills beyond, the wheat fields and the apple orchards that sprouted out of the earth. Her gaze consumed the town itself, with its ruins and its towers and its belching smokestacks. Her sight even alighted upon the forest of masts beyond, the fleet of ships lying in the harbour, any one of which could carry the company to Anima... if the Sun Queen allowed it.

But at this moment, she saw little of such things; Sunset's attention was fixed upon the horse that was cantering down the dirt track between the fields towards the gates of Freeport and the two riders who sat mounted upon it.

Her attention was on Ruby, riding away – away from Sunset.

Even if I have no right to hurt feelings, does that mean that I am not allowed them?

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder; a strong hand, but at the same time, a gentle one.

"Ruby is excited to meet Summer's family right now," Taiyang said reassuringly, "but she'll always have a place in her heart for you."

Sunset looked up into the older man's eyes. "Is it that obvious, sir?"

"I'm afraid so," Taiyang informed her.

Sunset cringed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's not my place to-"

"You don't need to apologise for caring about Ruby," Taiyang said, cutting her off but with no hostility in his tone. "Not to me, at least."

"But I'm not her family," Sunset murmured.

"Yes," Taiyang disagreed, "you are. And Ruby will remember that, in time."

Time. If we have time. If it is for the best that Ruby and I have time.

Maybe it would be better for her if we did not.

"Sir," Sunset said, one hand rising idly to scratch at her chin as she spoke, "have you considered…? I confess it has been on my mind that… perhaps… "

"You'll have to spit it out eventually if you want my opinion," Taiyang told her, a touch of amusement in his voice. "And there's no need to call me 'sir'; it makes me feel old."

"You're Ruby's father."

"And you're Ozpin's girl and our leader," Taiyang said. "'Taiyang' will do just fine."

Sunset's tail twitched. "That… that's very kind of you," she muttered, although she stopped short of actually saying his name. "Um, anyway… it has occurred to me that perhaps Ruby… and you… might want to stay here, in Freeport, at least for a while."

Taiyang looked down at her. "I wasn't aware that this was a mission that could afford that kind of delay."

"No, you misunderstand me," Sunset said, and she could not wholly discount the possibility that he had misunderstood her deliberately. "I mean that the rest of the company would go on, and Ruby – and you – would remain here, in Freeport, with Ruby's cousin and grandfather."

Taiyang folded his arms. "You want to leave Ruby behind?"

"I want to do what is best for Ruby," Sunset replied insistently. "I don't want to be the one to rip Ruby away from her family, to tell her that she has to leave them behind when she's only just met them." I don't want her to hate me more than she already does. "There is no reason why she must go on."

"You came to Ruby," Taiyang reminded her. "You came to our house and askedf or Ruby to help you."

"I asked Ruby to do what I was afraid I couldn't do myself," Sunset corrected him. "Now… nothing would please me more than to have Ruby beside me for the rest of this journey, but… haven't I caused enough trouble for Ruby? At Beacon, and then after… I brought the wolf to your door-"

"I think it was Ruby's eyes that did that and no fault of yours," Taiyang replied.

Sunset didn't reply to that. Her whole body sagged forwards a little. "I'm tired of making things hard for Ruby."

"Ruby chose the life of a huntress," Taiyang said. "Nobody forced her into it. Nobody made her choose it: not me, certainly not you. And Ruby will keep on making her own choices, not having them be made for her by you, or even by me."

"And what will she choose?" Sunset asked, her voice quiet and plaintive. "If she is given the choice, if I offer her the choice, if Sunsprite suggests it… what will she choose? Will she stay here with her family?"

Taiyang smiled. "I was married to one Rose woman, and I raised two more, and if there's one thing that I can tell you, it's that they always do what they need to do, not what they want to do. Ruby will do what's right and necessary."

"Even if it hurts her?" Sunset asked.

Taiyang nodded. "Even then."

It should, perhaps, have brought Sunset some comfort to hear that from his lips, but she could take none from it. Ruby might do the right and necessary thing… she might do the necessary thing… but why was it necessary any more than it was right? Why was it necessary that Ruby should pain herself with separation? Why was it right that Ruby should sever the bonds with her kin that she had only lately forged? Sunset had wondered, at Sunsprite's prompting, whether Ruby might not be suited to carry on the quest without her, but now, her thoughts were turning more to the idea that she might carry on the quest without Ruby and leave her to enjoy a little happiness, if she had found it.

But Taiyang was right about one thing: it was something that she should speak to Ruby about, without presuming to make these decisions on her behalf. She had been too presumptuous in the decisions she made upon her friends' behalf already; it was why she was in this mess.

By this point, Sunsprite and Ruby had been out of sight for some time; indeed, the track down from the ridge towards the town itself was now nearly out of sight as the people and wagons of the Frost Mountain and Summer Fire clans travelled down it, passing through the gate and beyond the walls of Freeport. Vesper Radiance urged her horse close to Sunset.

"We should go in," Vesper informed her. "I will convey you to the Tower of the Sun."

"'The Tower of the Sun'?" Sunset repeated. Celestia, we're pretentious, aren't we?

"It is the highest tower in Freeport," Vesper explained without any affront in her tone. "And upontimes, it pleases the Sun Queen to stand upon the highest parapet and watch the dawn break over the eastern sea. What other name should it bear?" When Sunset did not answer – what answer was there to give? – she continued, "If you will come with me, I will lead you there."

"Very well," Sunset replied. She looked around for Cinder, finding her standing a little way off. "Cinder, help me round up the others."

"'Round up'?" Cinder repeated. "Am I a sheepdog, now?"

"Would you rather be a sheepdog or one of the ewes?" Sunset asked wryly.

Cinder rolled her eyes. "Woof woof."

It did not take long to assemble the others, and then, once they were all gathered in one place, they joined the column of the clans as they wound down the earth road towards the town. Vesper, mounted, led the way, showing her horse's backside to the company as the beast flicked its tail back and forth as though it were taunting them. Sunset found that, as a consequence of looking too hard at the tail of Vesper's horse and the way that it flicked, back and forth, back and forth, her own tail had started to do the same thing, swaying like a pendulum in time with the tail of the true horse before her. The realisation made her ears flatten down with irritation, and she left Cardin and Cinder to keep the others in line as she quickened her step, almost running to catch up with Vesper and draw level with her mount.

Vesper looked down on her. "Is there something more that I can do for you?" she asked.

"The Tower of the Sun," Sunset said, "that is where the Sun Queen holds court?"

"It is."

"And is my…" – Sunset's voice dropped – "my fellow Equestrian there?"

Vesper was silent for a moment. "She is," she replied eventually.

"I want to see her," Sunset demanded. "Right away."

"If the Queen permits it."

"Don't play games with me," Sunset snapped.

Once more, Vesper was quiet a moment. "You shall see her," she conceded.

"I will," Sunset affirmed. "You could have earned yourself some goodwill by telling me her name before now."

Vesper chuckled. "Do I not have your goodwill already?

Sunset knew that her smile probably seemed as false to Vesper as it felt to her, but it was the best she could do in the circumstances. "Let me rephrase: you could have had even more of my goodwill."

Vesper did not reply, but Sunset had the distinct impression that she was amused. Perhaps because Sunset would have been rather smugly amused if she'd been in her other self's position.

Vesper led them through the ancient arch that was the gate of Freeport, joining the throng of clansfolk pouring into the rough, worn down streets where ancient stone blended into more recent stonework which, in turn, gave way to bare soil on which feet and wheels alike trampled. The town smelled of life, uninhibited by the many means that civilised places employed to banish such uncomfortable sensations, like keeping animals away from people or having flushing toilets. There was little evidence of power here and less of dust; the lamps which hung outside of doors or in window sills – presently unlit on account of the light of day – seemed designed to take a different sort of fuel.

"Whale oil," Vesper explained, following Sunset's gaze. "Ships out of Freeport and the other ports under the Queen's control hunt the beasts to light our city. And for the fires and cooking, there is a little coal dug out of the mines amongst the dust; the Queen has no need of it, and so, she grants it freely to her people, but for the most part, we rely on wood for light and heat and will continue to do so for some time yet, I think."

"I don't doubt it," Sunset murmured. They could not be mining that much dust – or anything else besides – limited as they must surely be to hand tools and perhaps a few repurposed explosives they had found along with their Great War weapons. They could not have any of the modern machines that the SDC had created to make mining more profitable.

Vesper said no more about it, and Sunset asked no more about it; she and her companions followed Vesper through the streets, avoiding the narrowest thoroughfares and sticking to roads large enough to accommodate wagons, such as those of the clans. The great tower – and the ruined castle that surrounded it – loomed ever larger the closer they got, casting its shadow over Freeport and Sunset's company, until, at length, they reached a large square, with the ruins of an old and crumbled fountain in its centre, where Vesper urged her horse to the left towards the castle, even as the column of the clans began to wind towards the right.

"Sunset Shimmer," Prince Rutherford called to her. Yona stood beside him, the two of them stationary as the clan went by.

Sunset turned away from Vesper and the others and walked across the square towards them. Weeds poked up through the gaps in the stones; she trod on some of them as she walked towards her sometime host. "Prince Rutherford," she said. "I thank you, for receiving us generously and for bringing us here safely and in as much comfort as conditions allowed."

He held out his meaty hand to her. "And Rutherford thank Sunset Shimmer, for life of Yona and for defence of Frost Mountain Clan against grimm."

Sunset took his hand and resisted the urge to wince at the strength of his embrace. "It was my duty, my privilege, and my pleasure," she said courteously.

"Rutherford not know how long Sunset Shimmer remain in Freeport with companions," he said. "But if fate wills, paths of Sunset Shimmer and Frost Mountain Clan will cross again in better circumstances. Rutherford would have it so."

"And Yona, too."

Sunset smiled. "And Sunset Shimmer, for a third."

"Sunset tell Ruby that Yona say goodbye?" Yona asked.

Sunset nodded. "I will tell her, although I hope that there will be a chance for her to bid you farewell herself before we leave." If Ruby leaves.

Prince Rutherford patted her on the shoulder, hard enough that her knees almost buckled. "Fortune favour you, Sunset Shimmer."

"And bless your clan, my prince," Sunset replied, bowing to him as she stepped back, before she turned away and hastened to catch up with her companions. Cinder had half-waited for her, her pace a slow and idling one so that Sunset could more easily rejoin her. She had seen enough of what had passed between them that she was smirking. "Shut up," Sunset said.

"I didn't say anything," Cinder protested.

"No, but you thought it, didn't you?"

The castle to which Vesper brought them had never been particularly grand, not even in its heyday, at least by Sunset's reckoning, although she acknowledged that she was no great scholar of such things; Doctor Oobleck might have taken a different view of matters. But the bailey, to judge by the space marked by the crumbling towers and remnants of the curtain wall, had been little larger than a courtyard, and most of it was taken up by the new buildings – a stable; a kennel from which much barking and yapping emerged, prompting Zwei to reply in kind; a greenhouse in which many green things grew – that had been erected out of timber and metal. Only the central tower remained intact, with a stout base narrowing after some elevation into a more slender tower that rose high into the sky like a lance to pierce the clouds. A coat of arms was carved into the stone above the great wooden doors into the tower: a single broad crescent upon a shield in bas-relief and, beneath it, a sword with a very familiar-looking hilt thrust into a bundle of wooden rods. It resembled a fasces, the ancient symbol of royal authority in Vale, although it should more properly have been an axe rather than a sword; perhaps Lord Westmorland had wished to remind everyone that he held these lands in fief of the Valish crown.

The courtyard was not restricted to Sunset's companions: armed Rangers watched them warily, and unarmed servants waited, apparently just in case someone arrived whom they might attend upon.

Vesper dismounted, handing off her horse to a stable boy who took it eagerly enough and led the beast into the stables. Vesper herself approached the doors before she turned back to face Sunset and the others once more. "I go now to bring news of your coming to the Sun Queen. Wait here, and soon, the Queen and her councillors will come forth." She bowed to them. "Welcome to Freeport, one and all." She turned away and strode to the doors, unobstructed by the guards with submachine guns who stood before it. She pushed the doors open, the hinges creaking as she did so, and disappeared into the dark recesses of the tower beyond.

Sunset folded her arms as she prepared to wait for however long it would take for Vesper Radiance to get changed out of her Ranger clothes and put on something befitting of a queen, even a queen amongst barbarians.

"Sunset," Cinder said softly, "may I have a word with you?"

Sunset guessed that she meant a private word, as much as that was possible in the circumstances, and so, she and Cinder drew off a little way from the others, although 'privacy' was a relative term, considering that they couldn't leave the courtyard; even if they were not physically confined, it was probably not wise.

Sunset turned to face Cinder, who loomed over her somewhat, looking down upon her.

"We should consider," Cinder murmured, "what we're going to do if your counterpart refuses us a ship." She paused. "How likely do you think that is?"

"I… don't know," Sunset muttered in response. "I feel as though I barely know my own mind, let alone the mind of another, even if she does share my face."

"Do you trust her?"

"Little more than I did when we first met," Sunset admitted. "She is too glib by half. She still won't tell me the name of the pony who found her way into Remnant."

"What are you going to do about that?" Cinder asked.

"Hopefully, I can use the portal to get her home," Sunset said. "If not… I may have to escort her, whoever she is, to Atlas."

"'To Atlas'?" Cinder repeated.

"It's the only stable portal I know of," Sunset replied. "It's the only portal I know of apart from the one that brought this pony here."

"It's still a long way, and a long way out of the way, what is more," Cinder pointed out.

"I know it well enough," Sunset said sharply. She sighed. "I'm sorry, but… what else can I do? This is somepony who doesn't belong in this world, somepony who never sought to be here. I can't just abandon them to a world far more dangerous than the one they're used to." Sunset paused. A thought occurred to her. "Or… you know…" She grinned. "Yes, yes, that might do very nicely."

Cinder chuckled. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Suppose the portal between Remnant and Equestria works, the one not far from Freeport," Sunset said. "Suppose… suppose the Sun Queen doesn't give us a boat to carry us across the sea? Or suppose she does, it might not matter anyway. Suppose we went through the portal to Equestria, then made our way across Equestria, and then used the mirror portal to come out in Canterlot?"

Cinder stared at her. "We… would go through a magic portal to your world?"

"Yes."

"And we would become… four-legged furry talking animals?"

"As a temporary side effect," Sunset admitted. "Probably."

"'Probably'?"

"There's no telling what some of us would become," Sunset explained. "I see you… as a dragon."

Cinder preened, petting her hair with one hand. "Why, thank you, Sunset, you're such a sweetheart." The smile faded from her face. "But all the same, what you're suggesting-"

"Is probably a darn sight safer than travelling through Remnant, not least because none of our enemies are in Equestria hunting us."

"True," Cinder acknowledged. "But at the same time… do you really want to bring these people to your world? Your peaceful world?"

Sunset considered that. "…yeah. That's a snag. Sami and Jack are… not exactly Equestrian material."

"It's not as though we really need them."

"You never know," Sunset replied. "And besides, we can't just cut them loose out here."

"There's always-"

"We can't kill them, either," Sunset said firmly.

"Do you think they'd hesitate to slit our throats if they thought they could get away with it?"

"Probably not, but that's what makes us better than them."

Cinder sighed. "Being a good person is so exhausting."

"Tell me about it."

"Doing whatever you want is so much easier."

"Having to uphold standards for people who-"

“Will never stop watching you like a hawk in any case.”

"Probably best stop there, or Cardin will start to worry we haven't learned anything," Sunset suggested.

Cinder paused for a moment. A laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, very well, spoil my fun. Again." She looked into Sunset's eyes. "You realise if we do follow this insane plan of yours, then we'll still come out in Atlas. We'll be even further from Anima than we are now."

"It doesn't matter how near or far we are in absolute terms if we can't get any further," Sunset said. "What alternative do we have? Tramp up and down the coast looking for another place we might find a boat? Put our trust in Sami's knowledge? At least in Equestria, we'll have no enemies to worry about, and we'll emerge in a place where our foes will never expect, and we have friends who can help us. Maybe Blake can get us an airship, and we can fly to Mistral."

"This isn't just a fallback, is it? You like this idea."

"Because it's a good idea," Sunset declared. "And because… because I'd kind of like to visit home. I'd like an excuse to visit home, even though I don't deserve to see it."

"You're too hard on yourself, in this and in other things besides," Cinder said softly. "I… I envy you, you know."

Sunset grinned. "I have a lot to envy."

"I'm serious," Cinder insisted. "You… all that you've lost, your home, your mother-"

"She's not my mother."

"You love each other as mother and daughter, so what does it matter that you are not of her blood?" Cinder demanded. "Don't let Sunsprite Rose fill your head with talk of bloodlines and kinship. She loved you and cared for you all through your youth; what is more motherly than that? Anyway, the point is that… they are there, in that other world, still waiting for you. All your youthful innocence preserved, continuing on without you. I understand why you want to go back there, if only for a visit. Most of us are not so fortunate as to be able to step into our own pasts that way." Cinder sighed. "I really do envy you," she repeated, "but all the same… I think a boat across the sea is still our better option, if possible."

After a moment, Sunset nodded, conceding the point. "You're right. I wish you weren't, but you are. Hopefully, my other self will oblige me."

"We can only hope," Cinder agreed. She paused. "I… I couldn't help but overhear what you said to Ruby's father."

Sunset's ears pricked up with concern. "You mean… about Ruby staying here?"

Cinder nodded. "Did you mean it?"

"I did," Sunset confirmed. "I think… I think that it could be for the best, for her."

"For her? Or for you?"

"What do you mean? Do you think I want Ruby gone?"

"I don't know," Cinder said. "Do you?"

"I…" Sunset trailed off. She couldn't meet Cinder's gaze any more. She still hadn't told Ruby that Twilight had refused to teach Sunset the time travel spell. Ruby had been too distracted by Sunsprite to ask about it, and as much as she disliked Sunsprite, Sunset had been glad of the fact so that she didn't have to explain Twilight's refusal to Ruby. She wasn't sure how to break it to her, not in a way that didn't break Ruby's heart. How am I supposed to tell her that I've failed her yet again? She couldn't say this to Cinder, not least because she hadn't told Cinder about Ruby's time travel plan. "She's happy here."

"For now," Cinder agreed. "But do you really think she'll want to give up on this struggle? On seeing Jaune and Pyrrha again?"

"I don't know."

"And what if our enemies track her here," Cinder asked, "and find her alone, without you-?"

"I don't know," Sunset hissed. "I just… it's like Taiyang said, this is her choice. I think she should at least consider it."

The doors opened, creaking and groaning as they were drawn back to their widest extent, exposing the whole of the archway leading into the darkness that lay beyond.

From out of the doorway emerged three figures, all of them young women. First of them, a couple of steps ahead of the other two, was a girl with dark skin and hair that was red, streaked with white, like the ribbons of a maypole; her eyes were emerald green, and her features sharp and narrow. She was dressed in a loose-fitting blue gown, with delicately worked golden bangles dangling from her wrists and a necklace of amber beads strung around her neck.

Dawn Starfall, Sunset thought. As I live and breathe.

Dawn – or rather, the pony version of Dawn Starfall – had been Sunset’s rival of sorts; she had been another student of Celestia, in a time when Sunset had been much younger, even before Cadance had arrived to push Sunset over the edge. Sunset had considered Dawn a rival in Equestria and had been very glad to see the back of her and get Princess Celestia all to herself once more; it appeared that the other Sunset had made a servant of her. And a well-regarded servant too, judging by all that gold.

She recognised the other two as well, after a minute: they were Dawn’s friends. Sunset found it a little dispiriting that even in another world, she didn’t have any of her own friends and had to rely on recruiting somebody with friends of their own. In any case, the names of the two who flanked Dawn were Laurel Rhodes and Cherry Blossom, unless Sunset missed her guess completely. Laurel was pasty faced, with a complexion that Sunset had made mock of more than once in her younger and less considerate days, with grey-white hair tied in a severe bun at the nape of her neck; she was dressed in a severe green dress with a high collar and a cravat tied around her throat and a pair of square spectacles obscuring her watery blue eyes. Cherry had bright red hair cropped short above the nape of her neck and was wearing a bright red three piece suit with a white blouse and a black ribbon tied around her neck. She held her hands together as though she had weapons hidden up her sleeve and was making sure that she was in a position to use them.

Neither Laurel nor Cherry spoke, but as Dawn stepped out into the sunlight, she raised her hands up and cried out, “Welcome! Welcome, visitors from Vale and honoured guests of the Sun Queen. My name is Dawn Starfall, and I have the honour to be the Chancellor of Freeport and the right hand of the Queen.”

“Right hand and doorkeeper?” Sami asked.

“Quiet!” Cardin hissed.

Dawn did not seem bothered by the insult. She laughed. “Quite alright; indeed, I have descended to greet in person such… distinguished guests. Vesper Radiance, our trusty and well-beloved servant, has told us much about you and your doings, and it is clear that you are a company worthy of high honour. It is for that reason that the Sun Queen bids you come into her presence, where she will receive you upon her throne, learn your business from your own lips, and hear any petitions of her favour that you may have.”

What a lot of theatre, Sunset thought. Vesper – the Sun Queen – knew exactly what they wanted, but now, she would dress up as a queen and make them repeat it all over again before she finally decided what she was going to do with them.

And yet, there was no avoiding it. Vesper had what they wanted, and even if she hadn’t had boats, she had the other unfortunate Equestrian in her care, and if Sunset wanted to see her, then she would have to play along with this charade. She stepped forward, Cinder trailing just a step behind. “Very well, Chancellor. Lead on into the Queen’s presence, and we shall follow.”

Dawn was not quite a good enough actor to mask the shock that she felt at seeing Sunset’s face on someone else. She tried valiantly, but she couldn’t conceal the widening of her eyes, the way her legs twitched as though she wanted to step back. She must have been prepared for this – the Other Sunset would have been a fool not to prepare her for this – but preparation, it seemed, was not enough to overcome contact with the thing in person.

Nevertheless, Dawn rallied quickly, turning her back on Sunset and speaking in a more clipped tone now. “Very well, please, follow me.”

They followed Dawn through the doors, and as the party trailed after her, with Sunset in the lead and Cardin bringing up the rear, Laurel and Cherry fell in behind them in turn, closing the doors behind the group and enfolding the company in near darkness. There were no dust lamps here – with dust so rare, it wasn’t too surprising that the Sun Queen wished to horde it for military purposes – only a few oil lamps hanging from the walls, providing a few specks of light amidst the gloom.

Sunset could just about make out another set of doors, but to where, she could not have said because Dawn did not lead them that way. Rather, Dawn led them up a set of stone stairs climbing up the round side of the tower, winding upwards through floors and rooms of which they saw little, for the shutters were closed and the lamps and torches few and far between. Round and round they wound about the tower, their footsteps echoing upon the stone, until at last, they reached a floor in the tower where the shutters on the windows had been thrown open, exposing the tower to light, light in which Sunset could see where it was they had been brought.

They had been led into a throne room, where sixteen windows set all around the walls illuminated the round space, and the wooden floor was almost completely covered up by rugs of wolfskin and bearskin and the fleece of sheep and rams and by woven carpets of bright colours and fine quality. The walls were hung with a single tapestry, long enough that it circumvented the entire room, depicting what looked like some event from history long ago, men on horseback fighting men on foot with axes featured prominently, but the writing above the images that would have made sense of it all was in a language Sunset could not read. Guards in mail, with spears in their hands and shields on their arms and swords or axes at their hips, lined the walls; Sunset did not dismiss them as ceremonial, but she did note some Rangers with guns standing on the raised dais.

The dais upon which, set in the very centre, there sat a throne; it was wrought of iron but decorated with a most magnificent set of stag’s antlers, sprouting out of the chair like the leaves from a tree or as if they belonged to them who sat upon the throne. The arms were fashioned like the heads of wolves, and the legs like horses’ hooves. And upon the throne sat the Sun Queen, swathed in robes of fiery red, her hair concealed beneath a veil of saffron, her face hidden under a mask of gold. A sword sat upon her lap, one hand resting gently upon the hilt.

Her eyes were hidden by her mask, her eye slits revealing nothing but darkness beneath, but as they walked into the throne room, trampling upon the rugs and pelts that lay underfoot, Sunset could feel the Queen’s eyes upon them.

If you haven’t made your mind up already, then I don’t know what you expect to gain from all this.

Nevertheless, for the sake of this play-acting that was evidently so important to her other self, Sunset knelt, descending to one knee and bowing her head. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, “it is an honour to stand in the presence of the Sun Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, she who is carving out a civilisation amidst the wilds and the barbarian clans.”

“You are generous to say so,” the Sun Queen said, and Sunset had to admire the way in which she was managing to make her voice deeper than it had been as Vesper Radiance. “Many in Vale would regard me every bit as barbaric as those I rule, and you are from Vale, are you not?”

“We are,” Sunset replied. “Sunset Shimmer is my name, and these are my companions: Cardin Winchester, Cinder Fall, Taiyang Xiao Long, Roman Torchwick, Neopolitan, Lyra Heartstrings, Bonnie Bonaventure, Jack Bean, and Sami.”

“And there is another, is there not?” the Sun Queen asked. “One who travelled with you, but is not here presently.”

“There is, Ruby Rose by name, cousin to a captain in Your Majesty’s Rangers by the name of Sunsprite Rose,” Sunset replied. “That same captain who entertains her presently.”

“Of course, we would not wish to interrupt a family reunion,” the Sun Queen said genially. She paused for a moment. “I and my councillors,” she added, gesturing to Dawn, Laurel, and Cherry as the three of them joined her at the dais, taking their places around her so that they looked as much like bodyguards as councillors, “have heard from our well-beloved Vesper Radiance many strange things about you and your purpose here. But I would hear it from your own lips; therefore, I beg you, speak and be not silent. Why have you come so far from Vale, upon what purpose, and what may I do to aid you in your endeavours?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. With her head bowed, her fiery hair fell down across her face, concealing it from view. She was glad of the curtain between her and the rest of the world, keeping her melancholy expression from the sight of men as her lips crinkled with sadness.

“All… all is not well in Vale,” she confessed, and it seemed harder to admit it the second time. “The grimm, directed by the malice of their immortal queen, Salem, assaulted the city in great numbers. Through the valour of the young huntsmen of Beacon and of our allied forces of Mistral and Atlas, the creatures of grimm were driven from the walls… but the Emerald Tower fell, and Professor Ozpin… Professor Ozpin was amongst the fallen.” Sunset blinked rapidly. She felt water springing to her eyes. For all that he had been reborn – something she did not intend to mention to her other self – it did not change the fact that the old man had died and quite probably had died in pain as well.

I was his servant, but I did not protect him.

The Sun Queen leaned forwards. “Is it so?” she asked, so softly and with such disbelief, one might never have guessed that she had heard this news before. “Professor Ozpin, fallen?”

“It is so,” Sunset muttered impatiently.

The Sun Queen was silent for a moment. “I knew him, you know. He met me, when I was young, younger than I am now, at least.” She chuckled. “He knelt before me and hailed me as a queen in waiting, prophesying that I would do great things. It grieves me to learn that he is dead. I hope, at least, that I can be worthy of him with my accomplishments here and do such things as great as he foretold I would.”

Really? Seriously? Do you expect me to believe a word of that nonsense? Professor Ozpin had never mentioned it to her, and as private a man as he might have been, one would think that he might have brought up ‘oh, by the way, Miss Shimmer, I met the other you once, and she was far more impressive than you could ever dream of being.’ And since when did Professor Ozpin go around handing out prophecies of greatness?

He hadn’t even done that for Pyrrha or Ruby, and if anyone deserved it, they did. Sunset considered that she might not have been the target audience for that little story, but then, she had trouble working out who the target audience for it was. The guards? Sunset’s companions? The Sun Queen herself? Was she trying to convince herself that she was even more than what she was, not only a great woman and a builder of nations but a destined conqueror as well, her greatness foretold and her achievements blessed by fate?

I suppose I clung to my dreams of destiny once too… but that was when I had nothing else to cling to. Is all that she has built not enough for her?

“Many mourn for Professor Ozpin’s passing,” Sunset said softly. “For the loss of his wisdom and his courage. My company and I travel to Mistral in search of Professor Leonardo Lionheart, a servant of Salem involved in planning the attack on Vale. We seek to… bring him back to Vale to face justice, as well to reveal all his secrets regarding Salem and her plans.”

“And you travel this way, eastward, because…?” the Sun Queen prompted.

“Because our errand is secret, and our enemies are ever-present,” Sunset replied. “We hoped by taking the eastern route, long and arduous though it might be, that we could avoid the eyes of our foes falling upon us.”

“I see,” the Sun Queen said quietly. “And was your plan successful?”

Sunset hesitated. “The pursuit… has not been continuous. And yet, I fear that we drew the wrath of the grimm upon us at King’s Camp.”

“When you, according to Vesper Radiance, saved not only our Rangers but also the Frost Mountain Clan,” the Sun Queen said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And what is it that you seek?” the Sun Queen asked. “What would you have of me?”

“A ship,” Sunset said. “A ship to carry us across the sea to Anima.”

The Sun Queen nodded. Her mask rendered her inscrutable. “I… shall think upon it,” she said.

What more is there to think about? “May I ask how long you will need to think?” Sunset asked, a touch of impatience in her voice.

“In my own tower, I may spend as long in contemplation as I will,” the Sun Queen replied. “But worry not; while I deliberate, you shall be lodged within the city as my honoured guests, for it is rare indeed that travellers come to Freeport from so far away. Laurel, convey our visitors to the Tower of the Moon and lodge them there; see that all their needs are attended to.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Our mission is one of some urgency,” Sunset pointed out.

“And your word is grave and gives me much to think upon,” the Sun Queen said. “Particularly as concerns the existence of a mistress of the grimm, an immortal ruler of their kind. I must take counsel of my friends and think upon these matters carefully.” She chuckled. “And besides, you would not want to end the reunion between your companion Ruby and her long-sundered kin too soon, would you?”

Sunset scowled. “No,” she admitted. “I would not.”

“Good,” the Sun Queen said. “All is settled then. You will be given lodgings and may consider yourself to have the freedom of the city while I consider the matter. Was there aught else?”

“I was hoping, Your Majesty, that we might speak privately,” Sunset said. “To touch upon matters of… some delicacy.”

“Indeed,” the Sun Queen agreed. “But not now. Dine with me tonight, in my solar; for I too desire further speech between us. But for now, I must ask you to leave me be.”

It was a dismissal, however courteously couched. Sunset didn’t want to accept it – she still hadn’t seen the poor unfortunate Equestrian who was the Sun Queen’s guest – but unless she wanted to throw a fit and so alienate the Sun Queen permanently, there was nothing she could do except hope that dinner tonight would bring some satisfaction. She rose to her feet. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured.

“Welcome, friends, to Freeport,” the Sun Queen declared. “Rest easy within the shelter of these walls, for there is nothing to fear under my protection.”

Sunset Shimmer, Sun Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, waited until Laurel had led her impostor self and all of her companions away. Only once their footsteps had ceased to echo on the stairs descending did she send her guards away, until there was none in the throne room but herself, Dawn Starfall, and Cherry Blossom.

She took off her mask and drew in a deep breath besides. The reasons she had chosen to wear a mask were valid ones, but that didn’t stop it getting rather stuffy sometimes. She looked down at the blade resting on her hip, the light glimmering off the golden hilt and polished metal of the blade. Sunset leaned back upon her throne. “Well, my friends, what think you of this?”

“There’s a lot to think about,” Cherry muttered. “The grimm have a queen? An immortal queen? I’ll be honest with you, Sunset, if I’d know that when you proposed that we ought to come out here and play queens and courtiers, I might have told you to take a hike.”

“Cherry,” Sunset said reproachfully. “You’re not saying you would have abandoned me, are you?”

“I might have tried harder to talk sense into you,” Cherry replied.

“The world is no more dangerous now than it was yesterday,” Sunset reminded her. “We are simply better prepared for knowing what lurks in the shadows.” She laughed. “Fortune has smiled upon us once again. If I had not gone out on Sunsprite’s ranging, then I would have been ignorant of all these things. I would never have learned of Salem, nor of the presence of this other me from Equestria, nor of other things that I have learned that my impostor did not speak of.” She laughed again. “And you have cast doubt upon the usefulness of my excursions. Where else would we have learned such news as this?”

“What shall we do now that we have learned of it?” Dawn asked. “In your absence, the Fall Forest and the Ice River Clans have both descended upon Freeport, seeking sanctuary from grimm attacks.”

“What of the townships and the steadings?”

“I have despatched Rangers in your name to protect them,” Dawn replied. “It may not be enough. I have mustered the select levy of Freeport to bolster our own defences.”

“Good,” Sunset replied. “You have done well.”

“It might have been better to keep the Rangers here,” Cherry suggested.

Sunset shook her head. “A queen must protect her people, or she is no queen at all.”

“Protect them from what?” Cherry demanded. “Sunset, you told us that the key to all of this was secrecy. We had to hide from Vale and Mistral until we were strong enough. Surely, that goes double for a queen of the grimm!”

“We don’t know her eye is turned upon us,” Dawn pointed out.

“We know that something is bringing the grimm,” Cherry declared. “Probably the other Sunset and her companions. They’ve tracked them east, and now, they’re coming for us.”

“And we will resist them when they come,” Sunset said, holding up one hand for quiet. “I understand your concern, Cherry, but I do not share it. I have seen what my other self is capable of. I have seen Equestrian magic the likes of which we could not have dreamt of when we set out from Atlas. If there is more magic like that on the other side of the portal, then… then we have the means to guarantee our safety and our independence, I am convinced of it.”

“Is that why you have welcomed them so warmly?” Dawn asked.

Sunset smirked. “What would you have done instead?”

“Killed them,” Dawn said. “The other you sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, she is dangerous, I’m sure of it,” Sunset agreed. “For the rest… two of them, I think, can be convinced to join us; the rest are of little account… save, of course, for the young Rose scion. If she, too, would enter into my service… a Silver-Eyed Warrior who might actually be able to use her silver eyes would be a boon indeed. If not… we can send her on her way with the others, but Sunset Shimmer… my other self… her magic will never leave Freeport. It must not leave Freeport.” She looked up at Dawn. “I must ask a great sacrifice of you, Dawny.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I can only do that once. If someone else-”

“No one will come with that kind of power,” Sunset assured her. “Perhaps there are those stronger in magic than she is, but none are likely to find their way to us as she has done. This is the time, but… it must be your choice and yours alone.”

Dawn raised her head proudly. “I am prepared,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes, for Freeport… and for you.”

“And I will not forget it,” Sunset vowed. She grinned. “I say as though you won’t be right here, able to make sure that I don’t.”

“When will you do it?” Cherry asked. “At dinner, tonight?”

“Tonight,” Sunset agreed. After tonight, her other self would become the cornerstone of Freeport’s defences, and with her magic – and any other power they could obtain from the land of Equestria that lay so close at hand – then she would assure the survival of her kingdom.

Thank you, Sunset.

I will owe you a debt that I can never repay.

And I’ll never have to.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

“Here,” Sunsprite said, holding out the chipped teacup to Ruby. “Although we have milk – fresh from cows tended to not far from the city, upon the Queen’s lands – I’m afraid there is no sugar; such luxuries are impossible to come by here.”

“That’s okay,” Ruby said, feeling the heat of the tea within the cup spreading to her hands. “Although, couldn’t you get stuff like that – not that you need it, I guess – but couldn’t you get stuff like that by trading with Mistral? It’s only across the water, right?”

Sunsprite did not reply straight away. Instead, she knelt down in front of their grandfather and took one of his trembling hands in her own and gently pressed another teacup into his grasp. “There you are, Grandfather,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “Flavoured with chamomile, just the way you like it.”

“Thank you, Sunsprite,” Grandfather murmured, and his hand shook as he raised the cup to his lips. “The… the biscuits, you must offer Ruby biscuits.”

Sunsprite smiled. “I’m getting to that, Grandfather; just give me a second.” She rose to her feet and turned her single eye upon Ruby. “Would you like a biscuit?”

“Ooh, do you have any cookies?” Ruby asked. “Oh, wait, no, you don’t have any of that kind of stuff here, do you?”

Sunsprite laughed. “Unfortunately not, but Mrs. McIver downstairs bakes some delicious shortbread. Unless they fed you all of it while I was away, Grandfather.”

Grandfather groaned. “I should be so fortunate as to have my face stuffed with biscuits. The only things they forced down my throat were soup and broth.”

Sunsprite sighed. “That’s because it’s good for you, Grandfather.”

“That does not make it good to eat,” Grandfather replied. He turned his head to the other side of the room, and Ruby guessed that he was trying to look in her direction. “Imagine it, Ruby, being forced to eat nothing but chicken soup for every luncheon and beef broth for every dinner. Ugh!”

Ruby giggled, covering her mouth with one hand as the teacup shook in the other.

Grandfather had risen from his bed with the help of Sunsprite and now sat ensconced in the most comfortable-looking chair in the house, the one that had the most cushioning and padding, which cushioning had been added to by the addition of his pillows from the bed. Ruby, by contrast, was perched on a wooden stool, from the top of which her feet did not quite touch the ground. Sunsprite had taken a spindly and hard-looking wooden chair, from which she had risen to make the tea at the stove on the other side of the room.

Now, she crossed the room again to kneel down in front of a wooden cupboard and root around in it for a wooden box, a box which proved, when opened, to contain some shortbread biscuits.

“Ruby?” she said, holding out the box as she walked back towards them. “Would you like one?”

“Thank you,” Ruby said, reaching into the box and plucking out one of the wedge-shaped biscuits. It felt fragile and crumbly beneath her fingers, and it did crumble as soon as she bit into it, crumbs falling to the floor and sticking to her corset and skirt. Not that she minded; they would brush off, and in the meantime, they were good biscuits. She made an appreciative noise before she swallowed.

“Sunsprite,” Grandfather said, holding out one hand tentatively.

Sunsprite snorted. “If you wanted one, you should have just asked instead of asking if I had offered Ruby one,” she scolded him. “Here.” She placed a biscuit into his hand.

“Thank you, child.”

“The answer to your question, Ruby,” Sunsprite said, “is that you are right; it is not so far from Freeport to Anima, but we have little enough to trade in at present. All the crops of Estmorland go to feed the townships and the folk of Estmorland, and in any case, Anima has crops and farmland of its own in great abundance, so I’m told. And besides, the Queen says that to begin trade too soon would be to risk word of our growing kingdom getting out too soon. We will trade with the outside world, she promises, but in good time, when we are ready and not before.”

“Wise of her to hold off, not so wise of her to promise to start,” Grandfather declared. “No good has ever come from contact between these lands and the outside world. Why, it was the lure of the outside world that took Summer-”

“Grandfather!” Sunsprite hissed.

Grandfather stopped. His chin trembled. “Oh,” he moaned. “Forgive me, Ruby, I didn’t… I should have…”

“It’s okay,” Ruby said quietly. “You miss Mom; you don’t have to apologise for that.” She hesitated. “I miss her too.”

Grandfather nodded his head. His voice, when it came, was filled with melancholy. “How old were you, if I may ask, when your mother… when Summer…”

“I was four,” Ruby whispered. “I don’t… really remember my mom all that well. The truth is that I hardly remember anything. Yang remembered Mom a lot better than I did.”

“Yang?”

“My sister,” Ruby explained. “She… she’s with Mom now.”

“Oh, gods,” Grandfather whispered. “Oh, child, oh Ruby, I am so sorry. I grieve with you, I truly do.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said softly, wiping a tear from her eye with one finger. “Would… would you mind if we talked about something else?”

“Of course not,” Sunsprite said, kneeling at Ruby’s side and placing a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “This is a reunion of our family, the return of one of our long-sundered kin; this should be a time for joy, not sorrow.”

Ruby smiled, or tried her best to smile anyway; a thought came to her which managed to drive the smile from off her face. “Sunsprite?”

“Yes, Ruby?”

“If… if you don’t trade with Anima at all… if the Sun Queen is so determined to keep this kingdom hidden from the others… doesn’t that mean that there’s no way that she’ll give us a boat to get across the ocean?”

“'Across the ocean'?” Grandfather declared. “You’re leaving?”

Ruby squeaked in alarm. “No! I mean, not right away! I mean, I don’t think so! I mean… yes. Yes, we’re leaving.”

“But I thought…” Grandfather trailed off. “But you’ve only just arrived.”

“I know,” Ruby murmured. “I… my friends and I… we…” she looked at Sunsprite helplessly.

“Tell him the truth,” Sunsprite urged her.

“But-”

“Grandfather deserves to know,” Sunsprite insisted. “The reason why you must go, the reason you are here in the first place… the reason Aunt Summer died.”

“'Reason'?” Grandfather repeated. “What reason? I… I don’t understand you. Summer? What is this? Will someone explain to me what’s going on?”

Ruby glanced towards her cousin. Sunsprite’s gaze seemed to be particularly penetrating for having only one eye with which to gaze upon her.

Ruby drank some of her tea and took another bite out of the shortbread while she considered just how she could begin to explain all of this to her grandfather, to a man who had lost his daughter to this struggle.

Which was, of course, more than any other reason, why he was owed the truth.

“The grimm are more than just mindless creatures of destruction,” she began, because it seemed best to start there. “They’re drawn to negative emotions, yes, but they can be directed too. They can be sent on… missions, I suppose. They are, sometimes anyway, under the control of someone called Salem. She’s… I suppose that you might say that she’s their mistress or their queen. She can’t die, and she can’t be killed-”

“Anyone can be killed,” Grandfather said.

“Not her, not Salem,” Ruby replied. “Mom… mom tried and… wait, no, I need to explain more first. Salem… Salem is immortal. She’s lived for thousands of years, and for thousands of years, she’s tried to bring about the destruction of humanity. But for all that time, there have been those who fought against her. Professor Ozpin is – was – the leader of a group that resisted Salem, even while they kept her existence a secret from the rest of the world.”

“Why?” Grandfather asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

“Because they didn’t want people to panic?” Ruby suggested. “Professor Ozpin… he was afraid of fear. He was afraid that if too many people knew the truth, then they wouldn’t do the right thing or make the right choices. That’s why he kept the truth from everyone except the people he trusted most. People like Mom. When she was at Beacon, he told her and my Dad and my Uncle Qrow.” She didn’t mention Raven. It was complicated and not really any of their business. “That’s how I know that… Mom… they tried to stop Salem. They thought that with Mom’s silver eyes, maybe they could… but Mom used all her power against Salem, and it didn’t even make her flinch. She just… mocked them. And set her grimm on them.”

“And that…” Grandfather murmured. “That is how… Summer-”

“Not right then,” Ruby said quickly, as she realised how she could have – how she had, clearly – given that impression. “But in that fight, in the struggle to protect the world against Salem… yeah. That’s how… my mother died. She gave her life to protect humanity, just like a huntress should.”

“As a silver-eyed warrior should,” Sunsprite corrected her.

“More people have sacrificed to protect the kingdoms from Salem than just silver-eyed warriors,” Ruby replied, her tone sharpening just a little. “More people have risked everything to fight for humanity. My Mom didn’t fight by herself; she had my Dad with her, and now… when Professor Ozpin trusted me to know the truth, it wasn’t just me, it was my whole team: Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha; not to mention our Atlas friends too, and Blake. They’ve all fought so hard, risked so much… because they believed in what it meant to be a huntsman, just like Mom did.”

Sunsprite’s expression was still, and her tone solemn as she said, “Forgive me, I did not intend to give offence. I would never intend that. But the fact remains that this is our fight-”

“No, Sunsprite,” Grandfather said, his voice weary and a little wheezing. His head bowed, his chin resting upon his chest. “It… it is not.”

“Grandfather!” Sunsprite exclaimed.

Grandfather’s hand seemed to tremble more than usual as he raised his teacup to his lips. “Can it really be said to be our struggle when we were ignorant of it? Summer did not learn of Salem, of this great struggle against the figurehead of the dark, from the lore of the silver-eyed warriors that I could recall, but from this Professor Ozpin, a scholar at Beacon Academy.”

“He was the headmaster,” Ruby explained. “And our leader.”

Grandfather nodded. “It appears that this was his fight. His fight, in which he chose his soldiers with great care. It was an honour that your mother was chosen for so grave a task, as it was an honour for you to be chosen also, but it was not foretold, nor merely a consequence of your blood, and Sunsprite, you do your aunt and cousin both a disservice to suggest so.”

“That… was not my purpose,” Sunsprite muttered.

“No, but nonetheless…” Grandfather sighed. “And so, this leaving that you speak of… you came here on some errand for Professor Ozpin?”

“Professor Ozpin’s dead,” Ruby said, more harshly than she had intended. “But… yes, we’re on a mission. The fight carries on even without him, after all. We… we have to go to Mistral to find a… a highly placed servant of Salem there, to find out what they know about what she’s planning and to stop him doing too much damage there.”

“A part of me thinks that I should go with you,” Sunsprite said. “Another part of me thinks that I should urge you not to go, to leave this work to other hands while you stay here with us, with your family.”

“'Stay'?” Ruby asked. “You mean… you want me to abandon my…” Ruby hesitated, aware that she couldn’t call most of these people her friends. “You want me to abandon Sunset?”

“Can she not manage the business alone, with the prodigious power that she has?”

“'Power'?” Grandfather asked.

“Some mighty semblance that she possesses,” Sunsprite explained quickly. “It should open up a way for her to get this servant of Salem alone, or at least with the aid of the rest of your companions, should it not?”

“I… I’m not-“ Ruby began, before she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Ruby?” Taiyang called from outside. “Are you in there? One of the Rangers told me this was Captain Sunsprite’s apartment.”

“Who is that?” Grandfather demanded.

“That’s my Dad,” Ruby said at the same time as Sunsprite told him it was Ruby’s father.

They both looked at each other, and Sunsprite smiled apologetically.

Grandfather’s jaw tightened. “That is… Summer’s husband?”

There was an anger in his voice that made Ruby hesitate. “Uh, yes?”

Grandfather scowled, even if he tried to hide it. “Ruby, would you mind opening the door please? Sunsprite, help me up.”

“Grandfather-” Sunsprite began.

“Help me up,” Grandfather insisted. “Please, child.”

Sunsprite hesitated for a moment before she stood up. “Very well,” she said and took her grandfather by the arm and almost bodily hauled him up onto his feet, seeming to support him far more than he was supporting himself by his own efforts.

Ruby watched him, not so much standing as being stood up, his whole body trembling with the effort that it demanded of him, before she rushed quickly – but not quite so quickly as to activate her semblance – to the door and opened it up. “Hey Dad,” she said, her tone walking a fine line between enthusiasm – she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t glad to see him – and nervousness, because she wasn’t sure that his being here was all that great an idea.

He smiled down at her. “Hey, kiddo, how’s it going? I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted to make sure that-”

“Is that him, Ruby?” Grandfather called from inside the apartment.

Ruby looked over her shoulder, even though he couldn’t tell if she was looking or not. “Yes,” she said, “yes, this is my Dad.”

“Come inside, sir!” Grandfather barked.

Ruby let out a slight squeak of alarm, but nevertheless, she stepped back to let her dad inside. Taiyang walked in, gently shutting the door behind him. His look was even, neutral as he gazed around the room, his expression giving very little away. His arms swung loosely by his side. He didn’t look at all nervous, but Ruby supposed that he was a bit too old to be getting nervous in front of his love’s father.

“Miss Sunsprite,” he said courteously, nodding to her. “Good afternoon, sir. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Summer’s father?”

“My name is Hugo Rose,” Grandfather declared. “Head of the Rose family. Summer was my daughter… and you took her from me.”

Taiyang’s expression didn’t alter. “Summer never went anywhere that Summer didn’t want to go.”

“You took her from us!” Grandfather roared. “She would have come back from that school, would have come home to her family, if it weren’t for you! She was my daughter, and you wed her without my knowledge or consent! I should kill you where you stand!” Spittle flew from his mouth, but his voice shook as much as did his body, and by the end of it, his shouted words were interrupted by sobs. “But I am an old man now, and I could not harm you even if I wished to do so.” A groan escaped his lips. “Release me, child.”

Sunsprite’s face was grave as she helped their grandfather settle back down into his chair, back bent beneath the weight of his sorrows.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Taiyang said softly. “I know how hard it is to-”

“I don’t need you to tell me how wonderful my own child was,” Grandfather snapped. “My sweet Summer girl… do you imagine that your grief is equal to my own?”

“I was going to say that I know what it is to lose a daughter,” Taiyang said.

Silence fell in the room. Grandfather’s breathing, ragged and heavy, was the only sound. Eventually, he said, “Indeed. Ruby has… I am sorry. Yes, perhaps you do understand. Did you make her happy? Summer, I mean; did you at least make her happy, in the time that was allotted to you?”

Taiyang glanced down at the floor. “I tried to,” he said.

“I hope that you succeeded,” Grandfather said wearily. He sighed. “So… you and Summer strove together against this Salem, the source of all evils?”

The look Taiyang gave Ruby was slightly incredulous.

“We’ve told so many other people already, what’s the point in keeping it secret?” Ruby demanded.

“I guess you’re not wrong,” Taiyang admitted. “Yes, sir, that’s right. Our team was chosen by Ozpin to be his… agents, I suppose you could call us.”

“I cannot decide whether to honour Summer’s courage in taking up such a cause or curse this Ozpin for involving her and Ruby in it,” Grandfather muttered.

“Speaking for myself, I’m more inclined to take the first option,” Taiyang replied. “Oz didn’t make Summer do anything. Once she learned the truth, there was no way that she was going to turn her back on something like that. And Ruby is just the same. She’s her mother’s daughter that way.”

“Is that so?” Sunsprite asked, she returned her attention to Ruby. “Are you Summer’s daughter in that way?”

“What are you suggesting?” Taiyang asked.

“Whether you – both of you – should depart Freeport with the rest of your companions,” Sunsprite said. “Or whether it might not be better if you stayed here, with us.”

“Stay here?” Taiyang repeated. “You mean give up on our mission?”

“Are there not others who might take it on?” Sunsprite asked.

“Maybe, but…” Ruby hesitated. “You told me it was our destiny to fight against the darkness, that it was our fight, as Silver-Eyed Warriors.”

“I know, and I believe it,” Sunsprite replied, “and that is why a part of me yearns to take to the road with you, to whatever end-”

“No,” Grandfather moaned. “No, please, Sunsprite, you must not torment me so with such cruel words.”

“But who would take care of Grandfather if I did?” Sunsprite asked. “I cannot leave him permanently in the care of my neighbours while I embark upon a long journey with an uncertain end. And you, Ruby… you have only just found us, your family. Do you really want to leave so soon?”

“No,” Ruby replied. “I want to hear all about… about everything. But what I’m doing, what we’re doing… it’s important.”

“More important than your family?” Sunsprite asked. “So important that it cannot be left to Sunset Shimmer? If she is truly a changed person as you say, then there should be no issue with leaving this task in her hands.” To Taiyang she said, “You lost a wife and daughter already to this struggle; do you really want to lose your other daughter too?”

Taiyang’s jaw clenched. “That… this is Ruby’s choice, not mine.”

“Of course,” Sunsprite agreed. “But we who… who care about Ruby may advise, may we not? Is that not what kin… what friends do? Ruby… this may be selfish, but I don’t want to lose my cousin so soon after meeting her.”

“Nor I my granddaughter,” Grandfather whispered. “Ruby, you have your mother’s face, that I can feel. I feel too, I hear in your words, that you have your mother’s heart. That is a fine thing, a wonderful thing… but I lost your mother. She went away to that school and never returned. I have not seen her since she was a girl, and our last words were spent in furious argument as to whether she should go or not.” He sighed once more. “I have… years of regret. Please, Ruby, do not leave me as Summer did; at least, do not leave so soon.”

Ruby bowed her head. “Grandpa, I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what she could say. Her heart and head alike were torn in two. A part of her yet desired to go to Mistral, to see Jaune and Pyrrha again, but… but if she went, then another part of her would be left here, in Freeport, regretful that she had left her family behind, left behind the chance to learn about them and her heritage… for the moment. For what might prove to be a very long moment, for once they found Professor Ozpin, then he would have a task for them, and then another, and where would it end? Would it end? It had ended for her father, but for her mother, it had ended only in her death.

But could she stay? Did she want to stay? Did she want to desert Sunset and the cause of life against death? Was it really deserting? What else was she supposed to call it? Did it matter what she called it if she wanted it? What did she want? Family or friends? Duty or desire? She wanted to do the right thing, but she also wanted what was being offered to her here.

“You can still fight, if that is your wish,” Sunsprite reminded her. “As I told you, you could do much good for Freeport.”

“But I could do a lot of good for other people too, maybe,” Ruby replied.

“Perhaps,” Sunsprite allowed, “but you would not be with your family while you did so.”

“No,” Ruby murmured, “but I…”

“But what?” Sunsprite demanded. “But you cannot leave Sunset, who is unworthy of your presence.”

“Sunset’s always been there for me,” Ruby cried. “Even when… when I didn’t ask her to be. She’s always tried to help me even if she didn’t do it the right way. I can’t just tell her that I’m ditching her to stay here.”

“No one is asking you to betray your comrades,” Grandfather assured her.

“No,” Sunsprite said, looking a little shamefaced. “I wasn’t suggesting that at all. Not at all.” She winced. “But, Ruby, do you wish to stay here, with us?”

Ruby glanced at her father for help.

“This is your choice, Ruby,” Taiyang told her. “Ozpin chose you, not me. I’m just a retired huntsman and old teacher along for the ride.”

That was… Ruby would have appreciated that more if it didn’t feel as though he were putting her on the spot like this. Thanks, Dad. “Yes,” she said. “I do want to stay. I want to learn where I came from.”

“Then please, speak to your friend,” Grandfather urged. “Speak to Sunset. Do not simply turn your back on her, but go to her and explain. If she is truly your friend, if she has always endeavoured to do right by you, then she will understand that your staying here… is simply what is best for you.”

The servants of the Sun Queen had lodged them in the Tower of the Moon, the Mistralian tower that sat on the other side of town from the old Valish castle out of which Sunset’s double had based herself. This tower must have been considerably newer than the Tower of the Sun, dating back only as far as the years leading up to the Great War; Sunset almost wondered why this, and not the much older tower, was not the Sun Queen’s base – and it couldn’t be the names, because Sunset was ninety-nine percent certain those names had been given by the Sun Queen herself. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that the Tower of the Sun, old and strong as it was, just had a certain cachet about it that the smaller Mistralian tower lacked, and she would have probably made the same choices in the Sun Queen’s position.

In a sense, she had.

The interior of the tower was wood, with several small rooms on each floor, each room designed for a single occupant without much in the way of luggage or possessions, which Sunset didn’t mind, since none of them had very much in the way of luggage or possessions. With the first two floors taken up with communal spaces, Sunset had put Lyra, Bon Bon, Taiyang, and Ruby – when she arrived – on the third floor; herself, Cinder, Sami, and Jack on the fifth floor; and Torchwick, Neo, and Cardin up on the sixth.

Now, she slumped onto her bed, feeling the lumps in the straw pallet beneath her which the roughspun woollen sheet could not disguise. Sunset rolled over onto her back, her tail coiling around her leg. She stared up at the plain white ceiling.

“Everything okay?” Cinder asked, standing in the doorway, leaning upon the frame with her arms folded.

Sunset sat up. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Just like I don’t know why the Queen is stringing me along about this pony from Equestria. Why keep me from seeing her? Why not even tell me her name?”

“Perhaps…” Cinder trailed off.

Sunset frowned. “Go on. Finish what you have to say.”

Cinder matched Sunset’s frown; some might say she even exceeded it. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I wonder… what if there is no Equestrian?”

Sunset blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean she made it up.”

“All of it?” Sunset asked. “The portal, the pony… all of it? Why? And if not by that means, then how would she know about Equestria?”

“By some other way that she would rather not tell you, so she concocted a story that you might believe?” Cinder suggested.

“I… I don’t know,” Sunset mused. “I suppose… it feels a little farfetched to me.”

“Then why not tell you who they are?”

“Why not just make up a name?” Sunset countered. “Being obstinate about it gets them nothing. If this is all fabrication then, yes, I see that it makes a degree of sense to keep me from seeing someone who isn’t there, but why tell me a lie that is certain to come out? It’s not like I’m going to let this drop if they stonewall me for long enough. If there is no pony, I’m going to find out about it… and what other way could she have discovered to find out about Equestria that would be so bad they’d lie about it?”

“You’re the one who is actually from Equestria,” Cinder reminded her. “You tell me?”

“I… can’t think of one,” Sunset said. “I… I can’t wait until we are away from here.”

“And you can stop looking in the mirror?” asked Cinder amusedly.

“So I can stop worrying about my other self and what I’m missing,” Sunset rephrased. “And I can stop worrying about this pony whose name I don’t even know but who I feel an obligation to protect. And, rather more selfishly, I wish that we were away from here so that I wouldn’t have to look at Ruby spending more time with her cousin and feel so jealous about it.”

“Her father told you not to worry about it.”

“Her father told me that Ruby still cared about me,” Sunset corrected her. “That isn’t the same thing as telling me not to worry.”

“Isn’t it?

“No, because in the meantime, she’s still under the influence of her cousin.”

“Her 'influence'?” Cinder repeated. “Do you mistrust Sunsprite?”

I mistrust everything about this place. “I don’t know,” Sunset admitted. “She seems genuine… if a complete ass, but at the same time… she is the Queen’s servant, and the Queen is-”

“You.”

“Keeping things from me,” Sunset restated. “How can I trust someone who I know for a fact is holding back?”

“We hold things back too.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sunset muttered. She got up. “Believe me, I’m aware of the hypocrisy. I just… our secrets are kept in a good cause.”

“Our secrets are kept in the will of an undying man,” Cinder corrected.

“You think we should tell them everything?”

“No, but I think we should be honest with ourselves about what we’re doing,” Cinder declared. “Ozpin kept his secrets because he didn’t trust anyone else to know the truth.”

“He trusted me,” Sunset pointed out.

“Very well then; he trusted very few to know the truth,” Cinder said, “but that does not change the fact that he hoarded knowledge like a miser hoards gold, giving out only scraps to his servants, even those servants he claimed to cherish the most. He didn’t even trust you with the knowledge that his death would not be permanent. He had his reasons, I am sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that he had no especial right to do so, aside from his desire and his low opinions of his fellow men.”

“Please don’t criticise him,” Sunset murmured. “I… I would prefer not to hear it or to have this conversation.”

Cinder stepped into the room, sliding the door closed behind her. “You feel… you… I don’t know how to describe your relationship, but… he was my enemy. And not just because he was Salem’s enemy. When I understood what he was, I hated him. I’m not talking about considering him an obstacle to my plans. He wasn’t someone I was reluctantly planning to defeat; I wanted to kill him, I wanted to see him fall by my hand, and do you know why?”

Sunset thought about it. She didn’t want to think about it, but she thought about it nonetheless because she felt as though she owed Cinder that. “Because…” She clenched her hands into fists. “Because he had the power; he represented the system of the world you wished to smash into pieces.”

“Yes,” Cinder said, and though her voice was quiet, that didn’t change what she had said. “I… I don’t say this to offend you or to start a fight but… that man controlled soldiers and huntsmen from the shadows; headmasters and generals bent the knee to him; he had more power than most armies even before we get into the additional power that no one knew he had. He held the world in his grasp-”

“You’re exaggerating,” Sunset snapped. “Professor Ozpin had allies-”

“I am your ally; you were Ozpin’s servant,” Cinder cut her off. “You trust your allies; you command those beneath you and tell them only what they need to know.”

“Then he had servants, and I was one,” Sunset declared. “I am one. Very well, he did not tell us everything; very well, he directed those who served him; who would begrudge him the right to that? A king is not bound to share all with his retainers, however faithful they may be.”

“No more than is a queen?” Cinder asked, one eyebrow arching.

“I said I was aware of the hypocrisy,” Sunset growled.

Cinder was quiet for a moment. “He held the world in the palm of his hand,” she mused. “He could have solved all its problems, but instead, he was content to nudge it, so gently that it was barely noticeable, as though all the ills that mire the lands of Remnant would heal themselves if he just ignored them for long enough.”

“And what should he have done instead?” Sunset demanded. “Seized all the thrones for himself? Made himself High King over the Four Kingdoms? Ruled with an iron fist inside a mailed glove? Why is a tyrant over all so much to be preferred than a man in the shadows?”

“Does not your princess in the land of Equestria rule over all things?” Cinder asked.

Sunset snorted. “Princess Celestia rules more by nudging than by imposing her will. The hoof of her rule is gentle as the slightest breeze that, though it may calm and cool, is scarcely felt upon the cheek of anypony. That… that, I think, is even how Professor Ozpin endeavoured to rule, if he considered himself a ruler at all. I’m not sure he did.”

“And does your Princess Celestia keep secrets from those who serve her?”

“She keeps secrets from those who love her best and whom she loves in turn,” Sunset replied, thinking of Twilight and the way that Celestia had, by her own admission, guided her towards her destiny without ever letting on to Twilight what that destiny was. “It does not make her wicked; it does not even invalidate their feelings.”

“Do you think Professor Ozpin loved you?”

“I think he had no need to love me,” Sunset replied. “I am his servant, and I will serve him, secrets or no.”

Cinder frowned. “Your loyalty does you credit,” she admitted, “but I cannot forget that… how many people died because of his secrets? How many died because they didn’t know what they were really up against?” She paused. “And yes, I, too, am aware of the hypocrisy; you need not point it out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sunset said softly. “You… deserve better from me than to have your past raked up and thrown in your face.”

“And I thank you for that,” Cinder murmured. She smirked. “None of what I’ve said has made the slightest difference, has it? You’re still Ozpin’s girl.”

“Always,” Sunset replied, quietly but firmly.

Cinder shook her head. “Do you really think it virtuous to be loyal to a man who does not deserve your loyalty?”

“If there is no virtue in loyalty, then where is virtue found?” Sunset asked. “We… we are not granted to define righteousness by our own lights, to set our own terms for what is right and good and then to act on them, or else I would declare that what I did in the tunnels was right and proper, and I had nothing, nothing at all, to apologise for. We must follow the dictates of a higher power, who sets the bounds of our good conduct, be that a princess or a general… or a headmaster. I’m with him all the way.”

“And I’m with you,” Cinder said. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Sunset laughed bitterly. “I… I wouldn’t bet on that, at this point.”

Cinder chuckled. “Well, I’m with you anyway.”

There was a knock on the door. “Sunset?” Ruby called. “Are you in there?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, Ruby, I’m here.”

Cinder opened the door. “Ruby.”

“Cinder,” Ruby said quietly. “Hey, Sunset.”

“Hey, Ruby,” Sunset replied. “Did you meet your grandfather? How did it go?”

“He’s… it went great,” Ruby said, her voice soft and without too much enthusiasm.

Sunset frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“I, um… can I talk to you?” Ruby asked. “Alone?” she added with a glance at Cinder.

“Of course,” Cinder said smoothly and without a trace of offence. “Excuse me, both of you. Ruby, Sunset.”

“Goodbye,” Sunset said, “and thank you, for a sympathetic ear.”

“And a less sympathetic tongue?” Cinder asked.

Sunset snorted. “Yes, that too.”

Cinder flowed around Ruby as the latter stood in the doorway, disappearing out of sight with steps so soft that Sunset could scarcely hear them.

Ruby looked over her shoulder – at the departing Cinder, perhaps – before she walked into the room and slid the door shut behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Sunset asked. “And don’t say nothing is, because I know that isn’t true.”

“It’s… it’s… I don’t know how to…” Ruby crossed the room and sat down upon the bed, head bowed, twiddling her fingers in her lap. “Sunsprite and my grandfather… they want us to stay here. Me, and Dad too.”

Sunset was silent and still. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She just stared down at Ruby, frozen by her words as though by the gaze of a cockatrice. So it has come to this. Of course it has come to this. It was always going to end here, from the moment… from the moment her family came into her life, from the moment Sunsprite found out what I had done, from the moment Ruby found out what I had done.

Ruby glanced at her. Her silver eyes seemed brighter now; they shone in the light for all that Sunset was standing between Ruby and the window. She ought to have cast a shadow over her friend, but despite that, her eyes shone regardless. “Sunset… could you please say something?”

Sunset sucked in a breath. “Just so that we’re clear,” she said, although she was already clear enough inside her own head. “You don’t mean just delay our progress, do you? You mean-”

“That I’d stay here,” Ruby finished. “That we’d stay here, in Freeport, with Sunsprite and my grandfather. He… he’s really old, and I think he’s sick, and I don’t know-”

“How much time he has left,” Sunset finished.

“Right,” Ruby whispered.

Sunset nodded. “And what does your father say to all this?”

“He says it’s up to me.”

Of course he does. “Do you…?” Sunset swallowed. “Do you want to stay?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby said. “Maybe.”

“Ruby,” Sunset said, a little reproach in the tone of her voice, “you can be honest with me.”

“I am being honest!” Ruby protested. “I… I want to stay, but I… would it be okay if I stayed behind?”

“Okay with who?” Sunset asked. “With me? Are you asking me if you can stay here? Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you’re our leader,” Ruby replied. “And… and my friend. And I don’t want to leave you if… would you be okay if I left?”

No. Or maybe, maybe not. I don’t want you to go. I want you to come to Anima with us, I don’t want to leave you here with these people. I want… I want you by my side. I need you by my side.

I don’t know if I can do this without you.

“None of that matters.”

“None of it? What are you talking about? Of course it matters!”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sunset replied, and her voice shook a little for all her efforts to control it. She turned away from Ruby, walking to the window, looking out across the city of Freeport in all its ramshackle chaos. “'Creation, Destruction, Knowledge… but the greatest of these is Choice.'”

“Sunset?”

“Something that Professor Ozpin told me,” Sunset explained. “He told me that Choice is the greatest kind of magic because we all have choices. Because we can all make choices. Because we all have the choice to be better people than we were yesterday.” And some of us need that more than others. “And so… and so I’m not going to tell you how to make this choice. I’m not going to tell you what I want or need from you. I just… you have to make this choice for yourself. What do you want, Ruby? What do you choose?”

“But-”

“If you want to stay with me, then I’ll be glad to have you,” Sunset said. “If you want to stay with your family, then I’ll manage without you.” At least I’ll still have Cinder by my side, and Cardin… and Torchwick and Sami and let’s not think about how bad it is. “But this is up to you, Ruby. Nobody can make this choice for you, and no one should. So what do you decide?”

“I… I don’t know yet,” Ruby murmured.

Sunset turned around, leaning on the window, her ears drooping. “I… I won’t tell you what to do, but…” But I’m about to tell you something that will make your choice for you. “But there is something that you should know. Something that I should have told you before now.”

Ruby frowned. “Told me… what?”

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Twilight… Princess Twilight wrote back to me. She won’t teach me the time travel spell.”

She didn’t hear anything from Ruby, and so, fearing what she might see when she did, Sunset opened her eyes.

Ruby was staring at her, eyes wide, mouth open. “She… she just said no?” she asked, her voice so soft, so quiet that Sunset had to strain all four ears to hear it. “Just… no?” Her eyes began to fill with tears.

“I’m sorry, Ruby.”

“Why not?!” Ruby yelled, leaping up off the bed as tears began to fall down her cheek. “How can she just… doesn’t she realise why this matters? Doesn’t she get that this is our chance to save Yang, to make things better?”

“She understands.”

“Then why won’t she help us?” Ruby demanded.

“Because… because she doesn’t trust me,” Sunset admitted, and she could feel tears starting to build up in the corners of her own eyes as she made that confession. “She doesn’t think that I… that I should have this power. And so she’s keeping it away from me.”

Ruby stared at her. Sunset stared back, unable to look away. She couldn’t avert her gaze as the sadness in Ruby’s eyes turned to anger, an anger that was directed unmistakably at Sunset herself.

“You,” she snarled venomously.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Sunset whispered.

“Didn’t you?!” Ruby yelled. “You meant to stop that train!”

“And I’m sorry-”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re sorry!” Ruby shouted. “Yang’s still dead! She’s dead, and she’s never coming back because Twilight doesn’t trust you! And you know what? She’s right! I don’t trust you either! You’ve ruined everything!” Her lip trembled. “I wish… I wish I’d never met you.”

“Ruby-”

“Stay away from me!” Ruby shrieked as she turned away from Sunset and slammed the door open; it cracked as it slid back as far as it could. Ruby ran from the room, rose petals trailing after her, falling to the floor like crimson tears as her rapid footfalls echoed on the wooden boards.

Sunset didn’t pursue her. Ruby didn’t want her, and that… that was her choice. Ruby had to make her choice, and she had. She had chosen her family. Chosen people who wouldn’t let her down. Chosen Sunsprite who, whatever her faults, hadn’t been a bane on her existence.

She had made… the right choice.

That didn’t mean that it hurt Sunset any less.

She closed her eyes, screwing them up tight as though that would staunch the tears.

“That was… a foolish thing you did,” Cinder drawled. “But I suppose it was also a noble one.”

Sunset opened her eyes. Cinder had returned to the doorway. “Were you listening?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Cinder said unapologetically. “You may not want to hear this, but your little drama with Ruby affects all of us. Do you really think we can do without her?”

“I’m surprised you don’t,” Sunset sniffed.

“Be honest now, no braggadocio,” Cinder insisted. “Do you really think we can do this without her?”

“Like I told Ruby, if you were listening, it doesn’t matter,” Sunset declared. “Her choice… her choice is hers. It doesn’t matter how great our need is, I can’t take that choice away from her.” No more than Professor Ozpin could take away Pyrrha’s choice in the matter of the Fall Maiden, no matter how great his need was.

“And yet you told her-”

“The truth,” Sunset interrupted.

“Something that would make her choose.” Cinder finished.

“To be honest with her, that was my choice,” Sunset whispered. She tried to take a step forward, but tumbled and fell – into the arms of Cinder, who rushed forward to catch her, cradling her in her embrace as she began to sob.

“I’ve lost her,” Sunset moaned.

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “Very probably, you have.”

She carried Sunset to the bed where she sat down, and Sunset lay with her head in Cinder’s lap, Cinder’s hand running through her hair as Sunset sobbed.

“You chose to be brave rather than wise,” Cinder said. “Does that comfort you?”

“No,” Sunset said. “But if I’d lied to her… I would have felt even worse.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “No, please… please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Cinder whispered. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need me.”

Dinner With Myself

Dinner with Myself

The journal glowed with lavender light, vibrating back and forth where it sat on Sunset’s bed.

Sunset’s brow furrowed as she debated on whether to answer it or not; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to speak to Twilight Sparkle at the moment.

She was even less sure why Twilight Sparkle would want to speak with her after the way that they had left things.

But the book continued to glow, and it continued to vibrate.

Sunset wondered briefly if Twilight was writing to her in order to tell her off for the way that she’d behaved the last time they had spoken, or perhaps the rebuke was going to come from Princess Celestia; in neither case could she really deny deserving one.

But then, another part of her thought that Twilight – or Celestia for that matter – had left it rather late to write to her with a rebuke. They could have done it at once, had they been minded to, and yet they had not.

Which meant that it might be something else.

It might be important.

It might have something to do with the missing pony who had fallen through the crack between worlds and ended up in Remnant, the one whom the Sun Queen was holding as her ‘guest.’

If it was about that, well, then Sunset couldn’t really ignore it, could she?

She sat down on the bed and opened up the book.

Sunset, are you there?

There was a lot more like that scrawled across the page, but that was the last line, and everything before that was in very much the same vein. Sunset took out a pen from her jacket pocket and began to write back.

I’m here, but a little surprised that you want to talk to me after the way we left things.

If I refused to speak to every one of my friends who got mad at me, I wouldn’t have very many friends left.

What an odd thing for a Princess of Friendship to admit.

Just because I’m a Princess of Friendship doesn’t mean I’m flawless, or that my friends are; it does, however, mean that I understand that sometimes we have bad days, and it’s important not to hold them against anypony.

I should probably come back with an argument about how patronising that is when you’re the one who provoked me to get upset in the first place, but honestly, I’m too tired for that, and I don’t really have time.

Oh, sorry, am I disturbing you?

Sunset chuckled softly, for all that the pony on the other side of the book couldn’t see it. You’re really much too nice, you do realise that?

I’m not sure there is such a thing as too nice.

You and Pyrrha would get on so well.

There are times I wish that I had the chance to meet your friends.

That may not be as unlikely as you think; or at least, that’s what I’d say if I still had friends.

What do you mean, and, well, what do you mean?

Sunset sighed. She put down the pen for a moment and ran one hand through her fiery hair. Let’s just say that Ruby didn’t take the fact that you wouldn’t teach me the time travel spell particularly well and leave it at that.

A part of me would want to leave it at that, but another part of me thinks that we shouldn’t.

She wishes that she’d never met me, and to be perfectly honest, at this point, I can hardly blame her. It’s practically impossible that her life would have been worse without me in it.

That’s ridiculous.

Is it?

I’m sure that there are plenty of things that could have gone a lot worse without you around.

There’s no way to be sure now, is there? Ruby doesn’t care about hypotheticals; all that she cares about is that her sister is dead because of me, and I can’t undo it.

It took a little while for Twilight to reply. If you’re looking for me to change my mind, I’m afraid that I can’t help you.

I know. I wish you would, but I know you won’t.

I stand by my decision, but I understand that you may be angry about it. Are you still angry about it?

I’m too tired to be angry, just as I’m too tired to be sassy. I’m drained out of all my negative emotions, leaving only weariness behind. I want to sleep, Twilight. I want to sleep, and I want to wake up to be back at Beacon with the world before me and my friends by my side and time to make good all my mistakes.

You have made some mistakes, but let’s not forget that you’ve made so many good decisions too. Why, without you Cinder might still be trapped in servitude to Salem.

And Yang might still be alive; I can’t defend myself with maybes and might have beens.

Who are you trying to defend yourself from? Ruby?

Sunset frowned. No, it’s somepony much closer to home than that. It doesn’t matter; I’m sure that’s not why you wrote to me, and unfortunately, I don’t have all night.

What’s going on?

I’m having dinner with myself.

You mean your other self?

With the Queen, yes.

Her eyes flickered from the book to the other item resting on her bed: a gown that Laurel had brought her, with thinly veiled instructions that the Sun Queen would be delighted if she were to wear it. Sunset knew what that meant.

It wasn’t even the kind of gown that she liked wearing; it wouldn’t have made a huge amount of difference if it had been, but she could have taken some consolation in the fact. But this dress, aside from being blue, was too slender and too low cut in the neckline, exposing rather more of Sunset’s cleavage and breasts than she was entirely comfortable with.

But she’ll be so delighted to see me wear it.

I’ll bet she will. She’ll be delighted that she has the power to dress me up like her own personal doll.

A doll of herself, no less.

I’m not particularly looking forward to it. But with any luck, I’ll get to finally meet the poor pony who wandered through the portal between our worlds and got stuck in Remnant.

Right. That’s what I was actually writing to you about in the first place.

The missing pony? You think you know who they are?

I have an idea. I’m in a town called Mantle right now, with Starlight and Spike and all of my friends.

You brought all of your friends with you?

Why not? I enjoy their company, we work well together, and they all have skills that could help the investigation.

Even Pinkie Pie?

She’s very intuitive, and there’s nopony better to talk to children.

I’ll take your word for that. What did you find out?

Dragon Lord Ember met us in Mantle and told us that a couple of dragons had been attacked by what looked like wolves, but they were black, with white heads and bone sticking out of their bodies. Sunset, are they

The creatures of grimm. I’m so sorry, Twilight.

It’s not your fault, Sunset.

It feels as though everything is my fault, lately. Nevertheless, I’m sorry. Those monsters have no place in Equestria. Was anyone hurt?

Ember was very proud as she told me that, no, her dragons had managed to defeat their assailants. I’m not too surprised by that; dragon scales are hard, and dragon fire is hot, after all. What was more worrying is that three young fillies playing out beyond the town were attacked by what must have been a grimm bear.

An ursa, maybe even an ursa major, depending on how big it was. Sweet Celestia. Were any of the children hurt?

Thankfully, no. The three fillies ran back into town, where the mayor confronted the creature and was unfortunately forced to kill it

It was a grimm; there’s no 'unfortunately' about it.

I know that’s what you’ve been taught

It’s what I know, Twilight. Listen to me: these aren’t animals, Fluttershy can’t reason with them; they’re creatures of darkness and destruction, they exist to kill. If you see one, you need to take it out. Although, having said that, it’s quite impressive that some town mayor was able to face off against an ursa with no aura or training.

She is an unusual mayor, and certainly, I can’t see our mayor back in Ponyville pulling that off, much as we all appreciate her hard work

Of course you do; you just didn’t elect her for the ability to fight monsters.

But I wouldn’t call the Mayor of Mantle untrained. Actually, she was Captain of the Guard before Shining Armour.

Sunset frowned. Are we talking about Robyn Hill?

You know her?

We weren’t great friends or anything, but I knew her; she was Captain of the Guard when I was Princess Celestia’s student. I saw her around the palace often enough. As a matter of fact, I thought she was kind of cool.

Forgive me, but I have a hard time imagining you thinking of anyone else as being cool.

I never told her, of course, but she was grown up, poised, respected. I wanted to be like that when I grew up, only more. Did she tell you all this?

No. I think she’s the pony who ended up in Remnant. The townsponies told me that she went to find out where the bear – the ursa – had come from. She set off alone, saying it would be too dangerous for anypony else to come with her. She never came back. Everypony was too scared to look for her, but my friends and I are going to head out tomorrow and see what we can find.

Be careful, Twilight. We only have my other self’s word that the portal to Equestria is unreachable, but who knows if more grimm could have wandered through? Before I go, I’ll teach you a spell to get rid of them quickly; if I can manage it, you should have no problem.

I know a few combat spells already.

This isn’t a combat spell; it’s a spell to let you avoid combat with the grimm, but first, I have a proposition that I need you to pass judgement on: if we can’t get a boat here in Freeport, could my friends and I come through Equestria?

Come through Equestria? You mean come through the nearby portal?

And come out again through the mirror, arriving back in Remnant in Canterlot.

Is that closer to your goal?

Not technically, but I can believe we’ll have an easier time reaching our goal from Atlas than from here.

You know, that might not be such a bad idea. Robyn – assuming it’s her – will have to get home somehow, and Celestia would be delighted to meet you again, and we could finally meet face to face!

Sunset chuckled. You’re more on board than I expected you to be, honestly.

You expected me to be hostile?

I thought you might be wary.

You know you’re always welcome in Equestria any time.

What about my more unsavoury companions?

Is there any way you could leave them behind?

Sunset couldn’t restrain a laugh. I’d like nothing better, believe me, but I don’t think I could justify that. If nothing else, I’d be responsible for whatever they did once they were set loose.

Then you’ll have to watch them and make sure that they don’t get out of control. I trust you to do that.

You trust me that much? Not everyone would at this stage. Sunset frowned. Well, it’s just an idea at the moment. Thank you for telling me about Robyn; now I know something that my other self doesn’t know that I know.

Is that good?

It might be, if only so that I can throw her off balance if I need to. Now, before I go, let me teach you this spell that I came up with.

Sunset spent a little time going over the details of her grimm-dispelling enchantment with Twilight, laying out the various spells that she had combined together and the theory behind them, until it was time for her to go.

Does that all make sense?

I think so, yes. Understanding this makes me feel a bit better about using it, I must admit.

Good, because if you do have to use it, you can save lives with this spell.

I understand. Goodnight, Sunset.

Goodbye, Princess Twilight Sparkle.

She closed the book and got to her feet. Sunset stretched out, spreading her arms across the room, feeling her muscles tense. She looked down at the gown on the bed, stared at it, taking in its every fold of the cerulean fabric.

No. No, she was not wearing that, no matter how much it would delight her other self. And since she was not yet a prisoner here, she didn’t have to either.

She picked up the magical journal and tucked it underneath her arm as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Cinder was waiting for her outside. “You’re not wearing the dress?” she asked.

“No,” Sunset declared. “I am not.”

Cinder smiled. “Good for you.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Sunset said, pressing the journal into her hands. “Here, will you hang onto this until I get back?”

“Of course, but why?”

“Because I don’t trust that nobody will root around in my room while I’m not in it, and I don’t want this falling into the wrong hands.”

Cinder looked down at the journal in her hands, with Sunset’s red and gold sun embossed upon it. “Very well,” she murmured, hugging it close as though it were hers. “I shall keep a careful watch on it until you return.”

“No need to go that far,” Sunset told her. “Just keep it nearby; so long as you’re in your room, I doubt you’ll get any intruders.”

Cinder nodded. “Good luck up there. I’d tell you to have fun, but, well-”

“Not much chance of that,” Sunset replied. At least I have a name, now.

Robyn Hill, she mused, as she walked down the stairs. How are you coping with this? There were, in Sunset’s opinion, worse ponies who could have fallen through a crack between worlds and into Remnant; she might even say that there were many worse ponies. Sunset wouldn’t exactly say that she liked Robyn – the mare had, after all, tried to throw her out of the palace at Celestia’s command, and she’d never seemed to like Sunset that much even beforehoof – but she had risen to Captain of the Guard upon her merits, she had seemed skilled at what she did, and it appeared that she was brave enough to confront an ursa and follow its tracks to confront whatever other evils might lie in wait for her there. She had, according to Twilight’s account, dealt better with her first encounter with the grimm than Sunset could say – although, in Sunset’s own defence, she had been much younger at the time.

And yet, it would be too easy to simply assume from all this that Robyn was fine here, that she was the type of pony who would thrive in Remnant. It was very difficult indeed for anypony to thrive in Remnant; Sunset wouldn’t even claim that she was managing it. It was one thing to face a monster when it was on your own turf, when you were you, in your native form; it was another to be transported to a strange new world filled with such monsters, to be flung into a new and unfamiliar body, to have no idea where you were, how to get back, who to trust.

Guest of the Sun Queen or no, Sunset thought, suspected, feared, perhaps, that Robyn Hill had not had the most wonderful time since arriving in Remnant.

Sunset reached the floor below her own. The door to Ruby’s room was slightly ajar, and Sunset spied a pair of silver eyes watching her.

“Ruby-” Sunset began, but the door slammed shut before she could say anything further.

Sunset lingered on the landing for a moment, her eyes downcast. “Ruby,” she said, loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the door. “I… I’m sorry.”

There was no reply.

She wouldn’t cry. If she cried, then the other Sunset would notice, and she didn’t want that.

She wouldn’t cry, no matter how much she might want to.

She descended the next set of stairs a little more swiftly than necessary and emerged out of the Tower of the Moon and into the light of the real moon that shone down upon Freeport from above. The spring night air was cool and crisp; it caressed her cheeks but did not disturb her hair, although, given the wild curls in which she wore said hair, it might not have been too noticeable if it had.

She had no guide, nor did she need one. No one could fail to miss the Tower of the Sun, looming above the rest of the city; lamps burned brightly in the high windows so that it almost seemed to gleam like a lighthouse summoning the ships to harbour, if there were any ships outside the harbour tonight.

She walked briskly through the streets of Freeport, streets that were as occupied now as they had been in the day, or seemed to be so. Vendors sold thin strips of meat on sticks from burning grills set up by the roadside; heavyset fellows sat outside, drinking flagons of ale; people passed to and fro, none paying Sunset any mind.

I am nearly the mirror image of their queen, and yet, none of them realise it.

What a kingdom this is.

A bell tolled; it seemed to be tolling from the Tower of the Sun itself. A few people stopped and looked towards the tower, but none said anything, and after a moment, they continued on their way, leaving Sunset none the wiser as to what the bell had meant.

Nevertheless, ignorant of that, she continued on, and the ancient tower grew larger and larger until it towered over her, seeming almost to be ready to topple down and crush her as she walked into the courtyard of the old ruined castle and approached the tower.

Besides the Rangers guarding the door, Dawn Starfall was waiting there for her. Her eyes widened a little as she took in Sunset’s outfit. “I thought that Laurel had delivered you a dress from our Queen,” she declared.

“The Queen’s generosity is appreciated,” Sunset replied, “but quite unnecessary.”

Dawn stared at her. Sunset stared right back, her face conceding nothing and concealing everything.

For a moment, Sunset thought – feared, a little – that Dawn would demand that she go back and change into that dress, which would put her in the awkward spot where she would either have to deny Dawn and, by extension, the Sun Queen or else concede to her demands. But in the end, Dawn just sniffed with disapproval. “Follow me,” she said. A smirk appeared upon her face. “The Queen has something that she wishes you to see before you dine together.”

“Really,” Sunset murmured. “And what is that?”

The smirk on Dawn’s face broadened a little. “How we do justice here in Freeport.”

Sunset followed Dawn inside the tower, which was better lit now than it had been when she had entered here last. Lamps burned brightly where they hung from the walls, and Sunset could actually see where she was going as Dawn led her up the first few flights of wooden stairs until they came to a barren stone landing with a window set in the wall but very little else. Perhaps there had never been anything here, or perhaps this was simply a floor for which the Sun Queen, having no use for it, had pillaged it of all its contents for spaces she liked better. Chambers like the one from which a great cacophony of sound could be heard, making Sunset’s ears twitch a little with the racket.

“This way,” Dawn said, her voice silky smooth as she led Sunset towards the sounds, the shouting and the yelling. Sunset had no choice but to follow, despite the way the volume increased with every step she took, until Dawn opened the heavy stone door and gestured for Sunset to step inside.

The chamber that she beheld was large and consisted of many layers; Sunset wasn’t quite sure what the original purpose of the place had been when first the tower had been raised, but it only took a quick look to see what it was now: it was a fighting pit.

This was nothing like the Amity Colosseum, or even the grand old coliseum in Mistral that Pyrrha had taken them to visit; this was something else, something meaner and dirtier, something… something altogether more sordid-seeming, for all that it was recognisably of the same type. In the centre of the space, there was a great pit, a lowered space in the floor, set apart from the rest of the room by a mixture of stone walls and wire fencing. Inside the pit, the combatants fought, crudely dressed men armed with crude weapons – rudimentary swords and axes, mere bits of metal sharpened and sometimes stuck on the end of rough sticks of wood – hacking and slashing clumsily at one another, spilling their blood upon soil already slick with blood and upon which several dead bodies lay already. Some of the dead were covered in tattoos like Sami, some – tattooed or otherwise – were faunus of various different kinds. All fought more with savage ferocity than any real skill, swinging their weapons with wild abandon, seeming heedless of whether they were struck so long as they struck their foes in turn.

That was what the crowd seemed to want, for it was a great crowd, a crowd of men and women pressed against the wire, looking down upon the fighters, yelling at them, cheering for them, jeering at them, howling for blood. Sunset could see Ember of the Summer Fire Clan in the front row, with Garble beside her, surrounded by her clansfolk, fingers gripping the wire as she called out words lost in the cacophony. She could see Prince Rutherford too, and he seemed to be making no noise, but despite his grave expression, he watched the unfolding battle no less keenly.

And above it all sat the Sun Queen upon a throne of iron crudely welded together, draped in her robes of many colours, her face obscured behind a mask of gold, leaning forward as she gazed eagerly down upon the unfolding spectacle.

She was set higher than the others; the doorway in which Sunset stood led onto a wooden platform elevated above the other spectators, where the Sun Queen, surrounded by her guards, could look down upon all her subjects as they in turn looked down upon those who fought for their amusement.

Sunset stepped down onto the platform, the boards creaking a little under the steps of her boots as she walked across them to where the Sun Queen sat. Her guards did not resist Sunset’s approach.

The Sun Queen looked up at her. “You’re not wearing the dress I gave you.”

“No,” Sunset replied. “I’m not.”

The Sun Queen chuckled. “You know I meant nothing by it; I simply thought you might appreciate something nice to wear.”

“It’s not my style,” Sunset replied.

“I’m sorry for that,” the Sun Queen said, “but this isn’t Mistral; we can’t just whip up something for everyone.”

“Then I am fortunate to be content in the clothes I have,” Sunset said.

“Indeed,” the Sun Queen murmured. She returned her attention – or at least her gaze – to the pit. “What do you think?”

Sunset’s mouth twisted in distaste as she watched a woman lose her head. “In the four kingdoms, the fighting stops once someone’s aura gets dangerously low.”

Once more, the Sun Queen chuckled. “That would rather defeat the object.”

“Is the object to lose you warriors?”

“Oh, no, you misunderstand; these are not warriors.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Then who are they?”

“Criminals,” the Sun Queen explained. “They have all broken the law, one way or another.”

“You say that as though it doesn’t matter how they broke the law,” Sunset observed.

“Because it doesn’t,” the Sun Queen replied. “One stole a loaf of bread, another conspired with his brother’s wife to murder said brother, and another… well, you don’t need to know all of their crimes. They all broke the law, my law. And they will all pay the price for that. All but one. These are a hard people, Sunset, and simple, so justice must be hard and simple too: many go into the pit, one comes out again, absolved by blood of all their crimes.”

“Sounds barbaric.”

“In which case, it’s quite appropriate for barbarians, don’t you think?” the Sun Queen asked. “Ah, and look, we have a winner!”

Indeed, just before she had spoken, one of the two remaining fighters down in the pit had been cut down by the survivor, a tall and rangy young ram faunus with horns curving out on either side of his head; dark, untidy hair; and indecipherable markings tattooed onto his face. He did not look proud of his triumph, for all that acclaim showered down upon him from the mob that watched him fight; his expression was as inscrutable as he, ignoring the crowd, cast down his crude sword and stared up at the Sun Queen on her throne.

The Sun Queen rose to her feet, raising her hands in the air. Like the dying of a storm, the sound of the gathered masses quieted, falling silent at the Queen’s command.

“When I came to this land,” the Sun Queen proclaimed, “I found it a divided land. Divided between clans, between towns, split into claims and steadings, riven with feuds and old grudges, a patchwork of conflict and division. But no more! We are one people now: there is no Fall Forest, there is no Frost Mountain, there is no Summer Fire, there is only Freeport. You are of Freeport, or you are an enemy of Freeport, and the enemies of Freeport will pay with their lives! Tonight, you have witnessed not only a great battle, but a reminder of what happens to those who transgress in any way against my laws, the laws that bind us together and keep us safe. Is the world not dark and full of terrors? Do not ten thousand fates of death surround us? Have you not sought shelter from the grimm within my walls? We must live together, or we will die alone, and we must live under law… and we must mete the swiftest justice out to those who break that law, or the cancer of their villainy will spread until it destroys us.

“And yet, I am not without mercy,” the Sun Queen declared. “Bellamy of the West River Clan, you have proved your strength tonight above all others. Will you turn away from lawlessness and lend your strength to the good of Freeport?”

Bellamy bowed his head. “I will, my Queen.”

“Then leave this place a free man of Freeport and serve us better in the future,” the Sun Queen commanded. “Our revels now are ended; my friends, I bid you good night and leave you to your pleasures, as you leave me to mine.” She turned to Sunset. “Come with me,” she said before she turned away with her robes swirling around her, leaving Sunset with no choice but to follow as her other self led her to another door, just behind the throne. The door led to a narrow staircase which the Sun Queen climbed, with Sunset following her and then Dawn and a pair of the Queen’s Rangers following after Sunset in her turn. They climbed the stairs, the tight wooden steps creaking and yawning under their tread, until they came to a richly-appointed chamber, the walls hung with musty, ancient tapestries; faded settees, the cushions ripped and fraying in places, the stuffing starting to fall out, had been arranged around a wooden table laden with a feast. Not all of the feast was particularly mouth-watering to Sunset – the boar’s head in the centre of the table interested her not at all, nor did the large roast fowl not far away – but there was plenty of fruit and vegetables laid out in bowls to be picked at as well, which would have seemed very inviting if she had been more hungry.

“Please,” the Sun Queen said, “sit down and make yourself at home.” She didn’t wait to see if Sunset would obey her request; she kept her back to Sunset as she swept across the chamber to the dark and unlit fireplace, stacked with dry logs.

The Sun Queen knelt beside the fire and held out her hand; Sunset’s eyes widened as she watched the flames spring up on her other self’s skin, her body itself catching fire, the flames burning crimson and gold like her burning hair, the flames which spread to the logs in the fireplace. The fire spread quickly, crackling as it started to consume the logs, spreading out light and heat into the stone chamber. The shadow of the Sun Queen lengthened as the flames leapt up.

“Neat trick,” Sunset murmured. “Your semblance?”

“Quite,” the Sun Queen replied, turning to face her. The fire still burned upon the top of her hand, the hand she raised up closer to her face. “I call it Phoenix Armour.” The flames began to spread across her body, moving from her hand up her arm, engulfing skin and clothes alike, scarlet and yellow rippling up her body, all the other Sunset burning up, consuming everything until there was nothing left but fire, fire and the gold mask that concealed her face from view. “No one can touch me without coming to harm. I am… untouchable. Invulnerable.”

“Those aren’t the same thing,” Sunset replied. “For one thing, you can still be shot. And for another…”

The flames died down upon the Sun Queen; her robes appeared untouched by the fire. “Go on?”

“If you are untouchable,” Sunset said, “then who can touch your heart?”

The Sun Queen was silent for a moment. “Guards,” she said, “leave us.”

The two Rangers who had followed them into the room both bowed and, without another word, departed.

She does not fear me, or at least, she wants me to think she does not fear me.

“You too, Dawn,” the Sun Queen said.

Dawn hesitated for a moment, but in the end, she, too, bowed her head and took her leave, departing down the narrow staircase and closing the door behind her.

The latch clicked, the only sound in the room besides the crackling of the flames.

The Sun Queen chuckled. “If I’m untouchable, who will touch my heart? What a very quaint sentiment. Are you asking me how I make friends?”

“Is this the part where you tell me you don’t need friends?”

“I am not without compassion or fellow feeling,” the Sun Queen replied, “but I’m not sure that I’d describe anyone as touching my heart. I have good servants, and I appreciate their loyalty, but could I live without them? Of course I could.”

“The people we can’t live without are the ones who make life worth living,” Sunset countered.

“And how’s that working out for you at the moment?” the Sun Queen asked softly.

Sunset’s ears flattened down onto the top of her head, and she bared her teeth in a growl.

The Sun Queen raised one hand. “Forgive me; that was uncalled for. Please, sit down. Eat.”

“I’d rather see Robyn Hill first,” Sunset said.

The Sun Queen was silent for a moment. “How do you know that name?”

“Did I guess right?”

“How did you know?”

“You have your secrets; I have mine,” Sunset said combatively.

The Sun Queen stared at her. “Very well. I suppose I cannot begrudge you that. Yes, the… the pony’s name is Robyn Hill. Did you know her too, back in Equestria?”

“I did,” Sunset said. “And you knew her human counterpart here in Remnant.”

The Sun Queen nodded. “Have you ever heard of the Happy Huntresses?”

“No,” Sunset murmured.

“In Atlas, they are called criminals,” the Sun Queen said. “The truth is a little more complex than that, although there is certainly some criminality involved. They are… you might call them a resistance against the tyranny of Atlas and all the harm that it has done to Mantle. Robyn leads this group, and I spent some time with them, under her leadership.”

“Did you?” Sunset asked. “In the same way that Professor Ozpin knelt before you and anointed you with a promise of future greatness?”

The Sun Queen laughed. “You must allow a queen some leeway to mythologise herself in public. What I am trying to do here has not been attempted for many generations; I have little in the way of models to look to but heroes long past and the tales that were told of them. Vain as it is, I hope that one day, such tales will be told of me.” She turned away from Sunset, facing the flickering flames that burned in the hearth. “But the truth is, I did meet Professor Ozpin once, when I was very young. In fact… he saved my life.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “The grimm?”

“I forget why he was in Atlas,” the Sun Queen said. “Some conference, I think. He got word of a grimm attack, and he responded to it.”

Sunset nodded. “He was that kind of man.”

“He arrived too late to save my parents,” the Sun Queen explained, “but not too late to vanquish the grimm and pull me from the wreckage of my home. I… he was kind enough to let me write to him, every now and again, as I got older. And he always wrote back too, despite how busy he must have been.”

“Funny,” Sunset muttered. “He never mentioned you.”

“Do you think I’m still lying?”

“I think you might still be mythologizing.”

“In private? What would be the point?”

“I’m not sure,” Sunset admitted, “but nevertheless, he never mentioned you.”

“I can be forgotten, if I wish to be,” the Sun Queen said, explaining nothing. “In any case,” she went on, turning around to face Sunset once more, “I really do regret his death. The fact that someone like him… he seemed so mighty, but I suppose I was only a child at the time. It’s funny, isn’t it, how when we are children, the adults seem so much more…?”

“Infallible?” Sunset suggested.

“Precisely,” the Sun Queen agreed. “So much more infallible than they really are. And then, the more we grow, the more we see their flaws. As I was saying, I spent some time as a Happy Huntress; Robyn Hill – my Robyn – taught me a great deal about how to lead and fight… and about what not to do. Robyn’s cause may be a just and noble one, but it is also an even more hopeless struggle than that of the White Fang. You can’t beat Atlas, not in the very heart of Atlesian territory. You can’t beat General Ironwood with a ragtag bunch of misfits.”

“Especially not when General Ironwood has plenty of misfits of his own, just better dressed,” Sunset remarked.

“I see you’ve met some Atlesian students,” the Sun Queen observed with laughter in her voice.

“I was at Canterlot for a while, before I went to Beacon,” Sunset explained. “Yes, I’m not unfamiliar with Atlesian huntresses. They’re not the robots you might think.”

“And yet formidable for all their human frailty,” the Sun Queen agreed. “That’s why I left. Why we left. Why we came here. Somewhere I could become what I was meant to be-”

“You mean what you desired to be,” Sunset pointed out.

“Is there a difference?” the Sun Queen inquired. “I wanted somewhere I could do it without interference, and I found this place. And in finding it, I found my destiny.” She paused for a moment. “It would be a terrible pity, don’t you think, if all of these absurd and quarrelsome clans were to be wiped out? No more Frost Mountain, no more Summer Fire; it scarcely bears thinking about. And yet, that is exactly what will happen without me.”

Was my ego ever this colossal?

“I am the only one,” the Sun Queen said, “who can hold this kingdom together. It would not have even been conceived of without me. My dreams have called it into being, and only my genius can maintain it.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Sunset said. “I have no intention of interfering with your arrangements here.”

“Then what are your intentions?”

“You know them well enough,” Sunset replied sharply. “To go to Anima… and to see Robyn Hill safely returned to her home in Equestria.”

“I see,” the Sun Queen murmured. “I don’t suppose that I could persuade you to change your intentions, at least in regards to Anima? Your magic, the power that you wield, could do immense good with us here in Freeport; I might say the same of Ruby’s silver eyes. You could stay here and work for something real, something meaningful.”

“I am working for something meaningful.”

“A war that can never be won?” the Sun Queen demanded. “A crusade in the name of a dead man?”

“The war may be endless, but it must be fought nevertheless,” Sunset declared.

“Perhaps,” the Sun Queen murmured. “In any case, I suppose that there’s no way that I can persuade you to eat before you see Robyn?”

“None at all,” Sunset replied.

“In that case, she’s through that door,” the Sun Queen said, gesturing to an ironbound door on the left of the room.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“She’s waiting for you,” the Sun Queen said. “It would have been more polite of you to eat first, but… I suppose it also would have been more polite of you to wear the dress that I provided.” She smirked, presumably because she was worried she hadn’t been smarmy enough already.

Sunset didn’t respond to that. She didn’t feel the need. In fact, she didn’t say another word to her Remnant alternate self as she crossed the room towards the door where, according to said other self, Robyn Hill – the Robyn Hill of Equestria – was waiting for her.

She grabbed the wrought iron door handle. It was cold to her touch, even through the gloves she was wearing to restrain her semblance; the door was a bit stiff too, and the hinges squeaked as Sunset pulled, but nevertheless, they gave way, and the door opened.

The chamber within was barren, devoid of anything except its single occupant, a woman in a blue dress much like the one that the Sun Queen had tried to get Sunset to wear. She was a pony faunus, and just like Sunset, she possessed both ears and tail, both in the same pale blonde, almost white, colour as her hair, which was cut short and just only a little past her shoulders. Her face was long, and her eyes were violet. Obviously, she looked nothing like the Robyn Hill that Sunset remembered, but at the same time… those eyes, and that pale hair, yes, Sunset could believe that this was Robyn Hill.

“Robyn?” she murmured, pulling the door to behind her.

Robyn had been looking out of the window, gazing out at Freeport by night; now, she turned to face Sunset. Her eyes narrowed. “You… Sunset Shimmer?”

Sunset could not entirely restrain a smile. “I’m glad to see I made such an impression.”

“The colour of your mane made an impression,” Robyn corrected her. “Is it… is it really you? You’re the Sunset I remember, aren’t you? You’re-”

“From Equestria, the same as you,” Sunset acknowledged.

“And this is where you went?” Robyn demanded. “When you disappeared all those years ago?”

Sunset nodded. “Yes. This is where I went.” She paused. “How are you doing?”

Robyn stared at her. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“You need to go, now!” Robyn hissed. “It’s not safe. Equestria isn’t safe.”

Sunset felt her blood chill. An icy hand gripped her stomach even as her hands clenched into fists. I knew that I wasn’t to be trusted. “What’s going on?”

“I… I didn’t want to tell them anything,” Robyn insisted, “but she gets inside your head; there was nothing I could-”

The hinges squealed.

Sunset whirled around, her hands glowing green as magic gathered in both her palms.

Dawn Starfall stood in the doorway. Her smile was cruel and vicious as she met Sunset’s gaze.

Her eyes flashed.

And Sunset… Sunset found that she couldn’t move. More than that, she couldn’t feel her hands, her legs; it was as if her mind had been detached from her body. Her legs, her arms, her tongue, they were all gone and all unresponsive. There were only her eyes, and even then… the sight of Dawn was growing smaller, more distant, a sight consumed by darkness as Sunset felt herself falling, shoved backwards, descending into a lightless pit with no bottom.

She couldn’t teleport, she couldn’t cry out, she couldn’t even flail helplessly as she fell down and down, darker and darker until there was nothing but the blackness all around.

And then there was nothing at all.

Forgotten Friendship

Forgotten Friendship

Sunset Shimmer, Queen of Freeport, caught Dawn’s body as it fell. She cradled the soulless form of her closest confidante and good right arm as she lay, eyes closed, limbs cold, her face in such repose that she might have been a sleeping princess, waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.

But no kiss could wake Dawn Starfall now, only the return of her soul from out of the body of Equestrian Sunset Shimmer where it had taken residence, and Queen Sunset didn’t plan for that to happen any time soon.

Sunset knelt, her eyes fixed upon Dawn’s oh-so-peaceful, lifeless face. Still holding onto her with one hand, with the other she reached out and ran her fingertips through Dawn’s red and white hair.

“Thank you, Dawny,” she murmured.

“If you want to thank me,” Dawn said in Sunset’s own voice, “I’m standing right here.”

Sunset looked up to where her doppelganger from the pony world stood in front of her. Only it wasn’t really Sunset Shimmer anymore, was it? It wasn’t even the other Sunset, the fake Sunset, the cheap imitation of the real thing, namely her. No, it was Dawn who stood before her now, wearing Sunset Shimmer’s skin like an expensive suit.

Sunset smirked. “How does it feel?”

Dawn shrugged the other Sunset’s shoulders. “I’ve got a lot of time to get used to it, haven’t I?” She cricked the other Sunset’s neck. “Funny, I always thought of you as being tall, but now that I am you, in a manner of speaking… not so much.”

Sunset snorted. “You were just short.”

Dawn grinned. “I won’t have that problem anymore.”

“Sunset?” Robyn murmured. “Sunset, is… what… are you…?”

Sunset saw the vicious smirk on Dawn’s stolen face before she turned the other Sunset’s body around to face Robyn. “Sorry, Robyn, but Sunset can’t talk right now.”

Robyn scowled. “Dawn.”

“Uh huh,” Dawn replied; Sunset had found it strange to hear her voice coming out of another’s mouth, but now, it seemed even more strange knowing that those words belonged to her old comrade. Still, she had mastered her feeling of discomfort around her other self; she would get used to it where Dawn was concerned.

Robyn growled. “When Sunset gets back-”

“That’s where you don’t understand,” Dawn said. “This isn’t going to be like it was with you. I’m not dipping into her mind to recover some information that she’s too stubborn to give up voluntarily before flitting into my… well, I suppose I should call it my old body now, shouldn’t I?”

Robyn’s eyes widened. “You… you’re going to stay there? You’re going to take her body over and live in it?”

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”

“But it doesn’t belong to you!” Robyn yelled. “That isn’t your body; it belongs to another soul.”

“So righteous,” Dawn mocked. “You really are Robyn Hill, aren’t you?”

Robyn bared her teeth, her body tensing up as though she meant to leap on Dawn.

Sunset produced a pistol from out of the folds of her regal robes. It was an old gun of Great War vintage, a Mantle pistol with a slender barrel and a shape like the number seven. It was small calibre, but Sunset liked it; it was classic, and if it didn’t have weight in its rounds, it had the weight of history behind it, and she liked that.

And it was perfectly capable of killing a human. Especially a human without aura. Not only did Robyn not have aura, but she’d never even heard of it before; she’d never seen a gun either, which made them particularly effective at keeping her in line.

To prove the point, Sunset fired. A single shot from her pistol slammed into the wall just above Robyn’s head, making the transplanted pony cower before her.

“Careful, Robyn,” Sunset warned her. “I gave you my word that I would take you home, and I mean to keep it, but you must be a good guest until then, do you hear? Take her back to her quarters.”

One of the guards - the two guards she had earlier dismissed had returned along with Dawn - kept his gun trained on Robyn as the other advanced into the room – Dawn made way for him – seized her by the arm, and began to drag her out.

“Why?” she demanded. “Answer me that: why would you do this?”

“For power,” Sunset replied. “For the only thing that can keep us safe in this world so full of peril, the only thing that we can rely on. You Equestrians have been so selfish; I don’t think even now you quite grasp how utterly, monstrously selfish you have been: you hoard power that you have no need of while we, who live surrounded by dangers, who pass each day under the threat of a most painful death, must grub about for morsels of might with which to defend ourselves. Well, I’m done starving. Freeport is done starving. Soon, we shall have the power to defy Salem and Atlas and anyone else who might presume to threaten us; why, we shall be strong enough to laugh at any danger. We shall be safe, and Freeport shall be safe, and I will not apologise for that, no matter the cost.”

Robyn had no answer to that. Of course she did not; you could not argue with right, and Sunset was right; she knew that for a certainty; she would brook no argument upon the point, for she was right. This kingdom could be the safe haven of humanity in a world flooded with darkness, but they needed power, power like her unworthy alter ego had possessed, power such as lay beyond the portal in Equestria. The power to protect everyone who was depending on her.

Robyn, rebuked beyond response, said nothing else as she was led away.

Sunset picked up Dawn in a bridal carry, her head lolling back as though she were… well, she was dead, in many ways. Her body would die, soon enough, if Dawn’s soul did not return to it, and it would not return. Perhaps in Atlas, they would have possessed the means to keep Dawn’s body alive as a sort of vegetable, but here in Freeport, matters were too primitive for that.

Dawn’s semblance was named Oak; they had considered Chill or Poppy as names, but since her semblance had more in common with the fairy story than with the behaviour of actual Chills, they had decided, when they were young, to make the allusion explicit in the name. She could possess people; aura was no defence against her ability, and unlike a Chill, she didn’t even need to touch you to do it; eye contact was enough. She could possess you for a minute, an hour, a day, a week; she could even possess you forever, dwelling in your body, having access to your mind while you, a prisoner in your own mind, languished until you were devoured.

So they had theorised, anyway; Dawn had never actually tested it until now.

There’d never been anyone worth giving up her own body permanently for until now.

“Is she still in there?” Sunset asked.

Dawn nodded. “I can feel her.”

“Is she giving you any trouble?”

Dawn smirked at her with the other Sunset’s lips. “She’s dazed right now, the way they all are when I take control. Usually, I’m out before they recover.”

“Not this time,” Sunset said. “You’re going to have a fight on your hands once she recovers.”

Dawn narrowed her stolen eyes. “I’m not so sure.”

Sunset cocked her head slightly to one side. “You think you know me better than I know myself?”

Dawn chuckled. “She has your face, she has your fame, but she’s not you, Your Majesty. I’m inside her head, our souls are trapped in the same body, and I can feel her. I can feel the doubt, the regret that was consuming her. This girl barely had a reason to live, or barely felt as though she did.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Yes… I observed that she was going through some issues.”

“And those issues are how I’ll beat her, if she tries to fight back,” Dawn replied.

“How long, do you think, until you’ve mastered her magic?” Sunset asked. “How long until you're ready to lead our raiding party into Equestria?”

Dawn looked down at her hand. “Why do you think she wears these gloves?”

“You’re the one inside her head; you tell me.”

“Hmm, best not to take them off until I have the answer,” Dawn said.

“What’s the answer to my question?” Sunset prompted.

“I’m not quite sure.”

“It’s your top priority from now on,” Sunset commanded. “Master her magic so that you can lead our Rangers through the portal.” She had no desire to rule Equestria – the lands east of the mountains were sufficient for her – but she did want to amass a greater store of Equestrian artefacts; she had no doubt that waiting on the other side of that portal were magical items far more powerful and far more useful in defending Freeport and Estmorland against its enemies than the stone that she had found in Canterlot.

Speaking of which, it was necessary to make sure that none of Sunset’s friends would take umbrage at what had been done to her.

Sunset carried Dawn’s still-breathing husk over to the fraying, faded couch, beside which the table was still set for dinner.

“Ah, Sunset,” Sunset mused, “if only you had waited just a little longer, you could have enjoyed a nice meal before you… died?” She glanced at Dawn. “Shall we say died?”

“Why not?” Dawn asked. “She’ll be dead soon enough.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sunset agreed as she laid Dawn’s body down. “It is… a great sacrifice that you do, for me,” she said, “and for Freeport.”

“A necessary sacrifice,” Dawn agreed. “A worthy sacrifice. A sacrifice that I am glad to make, am proud to make. And yet… on the other hand, it is no sacrifice at all.” She came to stand by Sunset’s side. “By this that you call a sacrifice, I have become more powerful than I ever was before. I have magic! The fabric of reality shall bend to my will!”

Sunset chuckled. “Does it feel good?”

Dawn nodded. “Is this how it felt for you?”

Sunset held out one hand. A ball of purple light danced in her palm. “I… I was too busy hiding what I was to feel truly powerful. It’s hard to feel power when the power that you have you must hide away. But I did feel… special. Chosen. Even though I had to hide it, the fact remained that no one else could do what I could. No one else had the potential to do what I could do.”

“And that is why, even were it a true sacrifice that you had asked of me, I would have made it gladly,” Dawn declared. “Because you are chosen. You are the only one who can lead this kingdom. You are the only one who can defend it.”

“Once I have all the power that I seek,” Sunset reminded her. She glanced down at slumbering Dawn. “I will have my servants attempt to keep your old body alive for as long as possible, but… you realise that you will have to be forgotten? Dawn Starfall will fade from the memory, and you… Dawn Starfall the faunus will come from nowhere and become my right hand man.”

She turned away from Dawn – from the body that had belonged to Dawn, and to the new body that now belonged to Dawn – and circled around the edges of the room until she stood beside the roaring fire that burned in the grate. A tapestry hung beside the fireplace, an ancient and slightly faded piece depicting the Duke of Westmorland receiving the submission of the clans. Sunset brushed aside the tapestry, revealing a loose stone in the masonry behind. With her fingernails, Sunset dug out that stone, revealing a hollow into which she could reach with one hand and produce from out of the darkness a stone.

It was round and as large as a turkey’s egg, carved with symbols that to Sunset resembled an eye wearing a three-pointed crown upon its brow with a pair of lines tapering to swirls beneath. Whether it meant anything in Equestria – for now that she was aware of its existence, Sunset had no doubt that this was an Equestrian artefact, one of many more like it which surely existed in Equestria itself – she did not know, but she had long ago learned to harness its power.

She had found this stone long before she had become aware of the existence of Equestria, but she had recognised magic when she felt it. Magic unlike that which she possessed, unlike the fabled Old Blood, but magic nonetheless. Before she had learned where it had come from, Sunset had learned what this stone did: it robbed people of their memories; all she had to do was think about what memories she wanted to remove and from whom, and they would be gone.

That was how Sunset had managed to disappear so completely: by using this stone to erase herself from the memories of everyone who had ever known her. Robyn Hill, Principal Celestia, Professor Ozpin, General Ironwood, they had all forgotten all about her; there was a degree of irony that this had allowed the other Sunset to step into her life as though it was hers by right, but it couldn’t be helped. And besides, that wasn’t an advantage she would be enjoying for much longer.

Sunset thought about Dawn, about everything about Dawn – about her service as Freeport’s Chancellor and Sunset’s right hand, about the ways in which she had served as Sunset’s voice during Sunset’s undercover ridings with the Rangers. She thought about all of that, and she thought about everyone who had ever come into contact with Dawn in any of those functions – the ones whose memories she hadn’t already erased, anyway. She thought about Laurel and Cherry; she thought about the chiefs of the clans, the leaders of the villages; she thought about the Ranger captains and the guards; she thought about all the people of Freeport proper. She thought about them all… and she snatched their memories away.

The stone began to glow; the eye, the crown, the lines beneath the eye, they all began to shine with a sickly turquoise light, and as they shone, Sunset could see red streaks, like old-fashioned strips of film, rising from the floor or drifting in from the windows, memories ripped from the heads of everyone around her, so many memories that the chamber was filled with them, so many that, for a moment, she couldn’t see Dawn – either of them – there were nothing but the red streams of memory all around her until the very last of them disappeared into the stone.

Dawn Starfall was no more. The only people who would remember her were Sunset herself, Laurel, and Cherry, the three teammates who had come with her from Atlas. Everyone else would soon be meeting Dawn for the first time as a pony faunus with fiery hair.

I suppose I shall have to retire Vesper Radiance, or else dye my hair or something when I go on those little excursions.

Sunset refocused, thinking now about Sunset Shimmer, the other Sunset Shimmer, the Sunset who had come from Equestria and thought to be the Sunset Shimmer of Remnant. The Sunset whose power was too great to be allowed to walk away from here.

She thought about Sunset, and she thought about Sunset’s friends and comrades, and as she thought, the stone began to glow once more, and as it glowed, it ripped away all the memories of Sunset from out of the minds of Cinder Fall and Ruby Rose and all the rest of them.

And the best part was, she knew from experience, that nobody would even notice the memories were gone. In part, that was because nobody was so essential to another person’s life that their influence could not be elided over, but at the same time, it was also a simple matter of the magic. Nobody would ask who had spoken for the Sun Queen in her absence, and nobody would ask who had led the company from Vale to Freeport. Sunset Shimmer would be forgotten – she was being forgotten before Sunset’s eyes, as the memories of her flowed like the strands of Sunset’s hair into the stone – and nobody would realise it.

That was probably the most terrible thing about this stone: the way that it showed that anyone could be replaced; nobody was so important that they did not, in the end, lift right out of the world.

Sunset tried not to think about that too hard. It threatened to do much damage to the foundations of her self-esteem if she did.

She was not disposable. She did not lift out of the world. She was not her pony alternate: weak and feeble and pathetic. She was stronger than that. She was more important than that.

Horrifying implications aside, this stone was of immense value to her; she had to keep it secret because it was the greatest treasure she possessed, and as she watched the memories of Sunset’s companions be leeched into the stone, she smiled beneath her mask of gold.

They would never know, and without the other Sunset’s influence, Ruby would be that much easier to convince or coerce into remaining here in Freeport.

All power will belong to me, and I will make my realm secure.

The last memory disappeared inside the stone, which ceased to glow as Sunset set it back inside its hiding place.

The other Sunset Shimmer… had ceased to exist.

Yang walked out of the house and into the sunshine of an eternal summer and stretched, reaching one hand up towards the sun while she held onto her elbow with the other hand. She grunted as she bent her body first one way and then the other.

“Hey, Ruby,” she said.

Ruby followed her out of the house more slowly; she didn’t want to step into the sunlight; she didn’t belong there. The sun belonged to Yang, and the fresh air and the warmth and everything pleasant and lovely in this place, this memory of home.

The dark and the cold were all she felt right now.

When her younger sister didn’t reply, Yang turned around to face Ruby. “Don’t be too hard on Sunset, okay?”

“What?” Ruby cried. “But she’s the reason you’re gone! She’s the reason I can’t see you anymore.”

“What are you talking about, Ruby?” Yang asked with laughter in her voice. “You can see me anytime you want. You’re seeing me right now, aren’t you?”

Ruby pouted. “You know what I mean,” she muttered. “I wanted you back.”

“By travelling through time?” Yang demanded archly. “Come on, sis, you know that was a long shot.”

“It would have worked!” Ruby insisted. “If only Twilight would have let us try! But she didn’t trust Sunset with that kind of power.” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t trust Sunset either.”

Yang folded her arms. “Don’t you think you’ve given her a hard time for long enough?”

“No!” Ruby snapped. “My life would be so much better without her around; everyone’s life would have been so much better.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I can’t imagine how things could have been worse!”

Yang turned away. “It’s time for you to go now,” she said.

“Wait, why?” Ruby demanded. “I don’t want to go yet; I want to stay here with you.”

“I know you do, Ruby,” Yang said softly, her voice tinged with regret. “But someone out there needs you more than I do.”

Ruby awoke, or was awoken by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. The wooden boards were creaking under their steps.

Ruby lifted her head off the pillow; she had been lying on her front, and the pillow was stained with tears; the same could be said of her cheeks, which were sticky with them, so it was kind of a surprise that the pillow hadn’t stuck to her face.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand as she rolled off the bed. Her door was ajar, open just a fraction so that she could creep to it and look out to see who had come down onto the landing.

It was her. Sunset, standing on the landing as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Ruby… Ruby hated the very sight of her at this moment, from her boots to her stupid jacket to her hair that was so bright. How could it be so bright when Ruby’s world felt so dark?

“Don’t be too hard on Sunset, okay?”

You’re wrong, Yang. I should be hard on her. She deserves it. She’s the reason why everything has turned out this way.

And she had spotted Ruby watching her.

“Ruby-” Sunset began.

Ruby slammed the door shut, turning her back on it and leaning against the wooden frame. She didn’t want to talk to Sunset right now. She didn’t want to talk to Sunset ever, not until she could give Ruby her sister back.

“Ruby,” Sunset repeated from the other side of the door. “I… I’m sorry.”

You’re sorry? You’re sorry? Do you think that makes it okay? Do you think that that makes anything better? It doesn’t change anything! Yang’s still dead, and it’s your fault, just like it’s your fault that we can’t get her back.

I wish we’d never met.

I wish you didn’t exist.

If Ruby had never met Sunset Shimmer, if Sunset had never come to Beacon, then everything would have been so much better. Yang could have joined Pyrrha and Jaune on Ruby’s team, and together, they’d be in their second year at Beacon by now. The tower would still be up, the sun would still be shining, Yang would still be alive. Ruby could picture it; she could picture them: bored out of their minds in Professor Port’s class, trying to keep up with Doctor Oobleck’s lectures, having picnics on the lawn, having dinner at Benni Haven’s. She could picture them learning, laughing, living; together, happy.

She hated Sunset.

Just like she hated herself.

All the time that she had spent with Sunset instead of Yang, neglecting her sister for someone who had never really cared about her, never understood her. All that time she had spent ignoring the fact that something like this might happen, acting as though she and Yang would have all the time in the world when she should have been making the most of every moment, because it would never come again.

I’m so sorry, Yang.

She flopped back down onto her bed, exactly as she had been before, and must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was being woken up by a knocking on the door.

“Go away, Sunset!” Ruby snapped.

There was a pause. Then another knock at the door.

Ruby scowled as she got up off the bed, crossed the room, and opened the door. “I don’t want to-” The words died on her lips because it wasn’t Sunset standing on the other side of the door.

It was Neo.

She beamed, holding up a piece of paper – the pencil was clutched between two fingers – with GUESS WHO? written on it in untidy block capitals.

Ruby took a step back, blinking in confusion. “Neo?” she said. “What…?” She paused, then signed out, What are you doing here? What do you want?

Neo’s mismatched eyes widened in surprise. Pencil and paper alike both dropped to the floor. She began to sign back, You can sign?

Ruby nodded. I took an elective class at Signal. I thought I could use it to give silent orders if I had to go undercover.

Neo grinned. And did you?

Ruby’s face deflated. No. Nobody else took the class.

Neo’s eyes twinkled merrily as she covered her silent mouth up with one hand; Ruby had the impression that if she could have talked, she would have been laughing. Still, she signed, at least you can understand me. That will make this easier.

Ruby frowned. Make what easier?

Can I come in? Neo asked.

Ruby blinked in surprise. Uh, sure, I suppose, she signed, taking a step back out of the doorway. But why?

Neo didn't reply until she had pranced in through the doorway and settled herself down on Ruby's bed. How are you feeling?

"I'm okay," Ruby muttered.

Neo rolled her eyes. I don't believe you.

Why not? Ruby demanded.

Because I'm mute, not stupid.

Ruby shut the door. A frown settled upon her face as she joined Neo on the bed, sitting down beside the younger girl. What are you doing here? signed Ruby. What does it matter to you what I'm feeling?

You're not the first person to lose their family, Neo informed her.

Ruby winced. Sorry. I suppose- I kind of assumed that- is Torchwick-

Roman's not my Dad, Neo replied. But at the same time, he is, in every way that matters, if that makes sense?

Ruby nodded. Yeah, it does. It makes perfect sense. He took care of you?

Now, it was Neo's turn to nod her head. He took care of me, he taught me how to take care of myself, he raised me.

He made you useful to him, Ruby pointed out.

Neo's eyes glimmered, and once more, Ruby got the impression that she would have laughed at this if she could. If Roman made me useful to him, then why do you think that I was never around? I wasn't there at the dust shop when he first met you and Sunset-

For a certain definition of 'met' us, Ruby interrupted.

Neo took no notice. I wasn't there when he and that Adam jerk went to the bookshop and found Sunset and that other faunus girl. Roman never liked me getting involved in his work; the most that he'd let be me was his getaway. I had to beg and beg before he'd let me come with him on that train job. The irony that if I hadn't come with him, I could have busted him out of Atlesian custody isn't lost on me.

But why did you want to get involved? Ruby asked. If he didn't want it, then why did you?

Because it was what he did, Neo signed back to her. It was Roman's life, and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to pay him back for everything that he'd done for me. Plus, because it was what Roman did, I thought that it was pretty cool. She grinned. The point is, losing your family can be rough, but if you give it a chance, you might find a new family waiting for you.

Ruby smiled. "Yeah, I know. That's… that's the great thing about coming here, I've met my cousin and my grandfather and-"

That's not what I meant, Neo informed her. I'm not talking about long lost relatives; I'm talking about the people who are always there for you.

Ruby scowled. "Nobody's been there for me, not ever; she only made me think she was." She wasn't my sister, and I was stupid to forget it.

Ruby… Ruby began to feel dizzy. Then she winced in pain; Neo did the same, but silently; both of them cringed and hunched their bodies over; Ruby cried out as red light flashed before her eyes. She could see something coming out of Neo's head, a red strip like ribbon, ribbon with pictures on it, pictures like…

What was she thinking about? She couldn't remember. She had been talking – signing – with Neo, and then… what had they been talking about? Family, and how lucky Neo was to have found Roman after her parents died. Ruby supposed that she was lucky too; she'd found a new family as well, for all that Neo didn't seem to think so. But she was wrong, and Ruby was right.

Sunsprite and Grandfather are my family, Ruby insisted. They're the only family I have left, apart from Dad. That was why… that was why she was going to stay here, with them, in Freeport. Yang's death was no one's fault, but that didn't mean that Ruby didn't regret the fact that they hadn't spent more time together at Beacon. She didn't intend to make the same mistake here; she wasn't about to leave her family behind, not knowing whether she would ever see them again.

It was a pity that she wouldn't get to see Jaune or Pyrrha again, but they'd understand that she couldn't waste this chance, because she might never get another one. True, a charge had been laid upon her as the last member of Team Sapphire – a strange word to make out of APR, but Professor Ozpin had been a slightly strange person in more ways than that – but now that he knew the truth, Cardin could take care of that, with Cinder's help. This wasn't Ruby's fight any more. It hadn't been Ruby's fight ever since Yang died.

Yang's death had taken the fight right out of her. And it wasn't as though she had any friends amongst this company. Her family was here, while waiting for her in Mistral was nothing but a long road by the side of the people she didn't like very much. There was nothing driving her on and everything keeping her here. Professor Ozpin, she was sure, would understand.

Cinder sat in her room, a frown disfiguring her brow as she wondered what she was doing here.

Not here in this room, she knew that… or at least, it would be fair to say that she knew why she was here in Freeport: they were hoping that the Sun Queen who ruled this town would give them a ship across the water to Anima to find Professor Ozpin before the forces of Salem did.

Cinder knew that. What she didn’t know – what she couldn’t remember – was why she cared.

Cinder was no stranger to memory loss; a side-effect of the enhancement that Salem had given her, of the grimmification that her body had undergone that she might claim the power of the Fall Maiden, was that her memories had begun to fade away. Her recollections of the taste of food, of sweet smells that gave delight, of the feel of her mother’s arms around her, they had all disappeared – gone beyond recall, unfortunately; she was having to relearn what food tasted like, and the sensation of a mother’s embrace was something she would never get back – and not just sensory memories, but memories of events, places, moments in her life. No, that was not the way to put it; the better way to put it was that she remembered moments while the events around those moments faded away. Her life as she remembered it had become a sort of movie: a sequence of scenes or moments that she could remember with pinpoint clarity, while all else around it was shrouded in fog or disappeared completely, leaving her to work out the context of her life from inference and logical assumption. Sometimes, she remembered the gist of what had befallen her; she remembered in general terms the abuse that she had endured at the hands of her stepsisters, she remembered the pain she had felt and the anger that had filled her… but she could not recall much of anything that Phoebe had actually done to her. Perhaps that was for the best.

But it seemed that her memory had gotten worse lately – very lately – and that, that puzzled her. Ever since Salem’s influence had been purged from her body… how had that happened? It had happened; she remembered it; it was after she had killed Amber and claimed the powers of the Fall Maiden for herself-

The powers of the Fall Maiden. She had taken half of the power from Amber, then she had killed Amber for the other half, and then… and then… she couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember what had happened to the powers that she could no longer feel inside of her.

Cinder stretched one hand, holding up her palm to her face, and willed for fire to spring up in her palm.

Nothing happened. Ungovernable flames resolutely refused to sprout up from her fingertips.

Cinder scowled and concentrated some more.

Nothing happened, and at this point, Cinder had to concede that she was kidding herself, because she couldn’t feel the magic inside of her, as she had been able to do after she had ripped it out of Amber’s chest.

Salem had betrayed her, that she remembered. Salem had betrayed her, and so, she had… what had she done? How had she ended up here? Cinder rose to her feet, stalking across the room to the window. The fires burned in Freeport, mirroring the lights of the stars that shone down upon this town.

Why am I here?

She hadn’t lost any memories since she had been freed of Salem’s influence, but now… now, she felt as though huge chunks of her mind and memory had been torn away from her by some means she knew not.

What was she doing here? Why was she with these people who she… no, it wasn’t right to say that she disliked them, but she didn’t care for any of them enough to follow them halfway across the world on this perilous venture.

So why had she done it?

Cinder sighed, her body bending so that her forehead was pressed against the wall beside the window. She had felt so empty before their meeting with the Frost Mountain Clan; she had felt as though she was flailing, adrift, lost without purpose or meaning in her life. She had begun to rebuild that life, rediscovering her interest in the craft of sewing, turning her mind to thoughts of beautiful things… but now, it felt as though all her work had been unpicked, her mind and nascent self violated.

She felt even emptier now than she had done before.

Why am I here?

Where is my magic? Why am I no longer the Fall Maiden?

Why… why am I a good person? Why am I trying to be a good person now?

Why do I feel as though my life has just lost the most important thing in it?

Her musings were disturbed by a knocking at her door.

Cinder turned towards it, the frown remaining upon her lips as she sighed again. “Who is it?”

“It’s Ruby.”

Cinder exhaled through her nostrils. Ruby. Ruby Rose. Not someone that she particularly wanted to see, but then… she couldn’t really remember who she did want to see. In any event, it wouldn’t do to be unkind to Ruby… because… because it was wrong, yes. Because she lost her sister and was, or had been, a rather pitiable figure. Although Cinder was feeling rather irritated with her at the moment for reasons that escaped her. Ever since she had met her cousin, she had been rather putting on airs, but why should that bother Cinder so much? It was almost as if she had hurt someone that Cinder cared about… but if she had, Cinder couldn’t remember it.

I have sinned against her far more than the other way around, so why do I feel as though the balance ought to be in my favour?

In any case, it wouldn’t do to keep her standing at the door waiting. “Come in,” Cinder said briskly.

Ruby opened the door and stepped inside. She glanced at the journal to Equestria sitting on the table by the writing desk. “Were you writing to Princess Twilight?”

“No,” Cinder said. “I… what do you want?” she asked, to distract from the fact that she didn’t know why she had the journal out. Or why she had the journal at all. Shouldn’t Ruby have it? Ruby had known about Equestria before Cinder had and been in contact with Princess Twilight Sparkle before Cinder. Ruby had not yet attempted to claim ownership of the book, and Cinder was not particularly anxious to have that discussion.

Ruby looked away from the magical journal. “I… I wanted to tell you that I’ve made my decision,” she said. “I’m not going with you to Anima.”

Cinder stared down at her younger companion. “You’re going to stay here in Freeport?” she said, her voice even.

Ruby nodded. “I’m going to stay here with my family.”

Cinder said nothing for a moment, her voice still and her face frozen. She couldn’t honestly claim that she was surprised; it was no secret that Ruby had been very unhappy lately; she hadn’t enjoyed the trip or the company – who could blame her? – and she had only really seemed to find joy again with the arrival of her long-lost Rose cousin. Small wonder, then, that she would jump at the chance to stay here. Family first, as the saying went.

It was not surprising, and yet at the same time, it disquieted her. It upset her, almost, for reasons that passed understanding.

“I… understand-” she began.

“No,” Ruby said firmly, “you don’t.”

“I understand more than you think,” Cinder replied, her voice acquiring an edge of sharpness. “I understand that this must feel like a second chance-”

“This isn’t about Yang!” Ruby snapped. “I mean… it is, kind of, but not the way you’re saying it is! I know that Sunsprite isn’t Yang, and I know that nobody can bring Yang back… but she’s still my family; my grandfather is still my family, and… and I don’t think that he has much time. If I want to get to know him, if I want to get to know my family, then… then I have to stay.”

Cinder’s expression softened, in spite of herself. Ruby’s reasoning was unchallengeable, as much as the decision she had come to as a result of that logic was not what she would have wished. “And what of the quest?” she asked. “What of your mission?”

“It’s not my mission,” Ruby replied. “At least not on my own.”

“You were Professor Ozpin’s agent,” Cinder pointed out. “You are the only one amongst the company; if you will not keep faith with him, then why should anyone else?”

“Cardin will go on,” Ruby said.

“Will he?” Cinder asked. “Why should he? What reason has he to go on? This is not his fight; Professor Ozpin is not his leader; why should he not go home to Vale, where his people have need of him? Why should he not go home to his pretty girlfriend and make her his bride before the world ends?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “Because… you’ll go on, won’t you?”

“Will I?” Cinder asked.

Ruby frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re not the only one questioning your purpose,” Cinder declared. She turned away. “Why am I here, Ruby? Why… why am I a good person?”

“I’m not sure that you are.”

Cinder laughed aloud. “A very good answer, but let me ask you something else? Why did I join you? Why did I save Pyrrha’s life, why did I choose to fight alongside you?”

Ruby did not reply for a long while. “I don’t remember.”

“Neither do I,” Cinder murmured. And I had hoped that it was only my memory that was failing. She turned to face Ruby once again. “You and I both know that I do not have the strength to lead this company on to Anima; you and I both know that Cardin doesn’t have the strength. You and I both know that without you, this enterprise will fall apart. For better or worse, you are the one the Ozpin chose; there is no one else.”

“So what?” Ruby cried. “So I have to go on, even if I don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” Cinder said softly. “I just want you to understand the consequences of your decision before you… make your choice.” Choice, after all, was the most important kind of magic; Cinder couldn’t remember where she’d heard that.

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I understand, and I choose my family. This fight, Salem, all the rest… I’m done. I’ve been done ever since Yang… I choose to stay.”

“And what of the grimm?” Cinder asked. “What of the creature that attacked you on Patch?”

“If it comes, then Sunsprite and I will face it together,” Ruby declared. “Like family.”

“A brave choice,” Cinder murmured. If a foolish one. The corners of her lips twitched upwards. “I will… I hope that you find happiness, Ruby Rose.”

“Thank you,” Ruby whispered. “You too. I hope that you… work out who you are.”

Cinder snorted. “That would be a fine thing,” she muttered.

But if I did, it would probably be stolen from me once again.

Sami pushed open the door to Jack’s room without invitation and strode inside, her booted feet tapping upon the wooden floorboards.

Jack was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He looked at her. “Didn’t they teach you no manners in the-?”

“Camp of bloodthirsty barbarians?” Sami suggested.

Jack stared at her blankly. “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

Sami folded her arms. “I see you’re keeping yourself amused,” she observed.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jack asked. “Read a book?”

“I was worried you might have found some fun out in the city,” Sami suggested.

Jack shook his head. “A place like this, you go out looking for fun, and the next thing, some guy is chasing you down the street with a hatchet on account of you looked at his woman funny.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience.”

“It was a long walk to Vale from the farm they stole from me,” Jack replied. “I had some time to learn some hard lessons. Besides, it ain’t like I’m just sitting here.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I’m making a map,” Jack said. “In my head like.”

“A map of what?”

“Of the farm I’m gonna get when we’re done here,” Jack said. “I’m gonna build a barn-”

“Yeah, very nice, except you won’t have to where we’re going,” Sami cut him off. “Get your gun and anything else you can’t bear to be without, and let’s go.”

Jack sat up. “'Go'? Go where?”

“Anywhere but here,” Sami replied. “There are horses picketed not far from the gate. You know how to ride, farm boy?”

Jack got to his feet. “I can ride any damn horse ever sired.”

Sami smiled. “That makes two of us then. We kill the guards, we take their horses, and we ride into the night; they’ll never catch us, even if they bother to try.”

“Why?” Jack said. “I mean, why now? When I suggested that we should run, before we even reached the Frost Mountain Clan, you wouldn’t go, even though you were worried they were going to cut your flesh open and spill your guts! You said we had to stick around, on account of we wouldn’t survive out in a place like this by ourselves.”

“We won’t survive if we stay here,” Sami replied. “Fighting a monster that can’t be killed? Do you think there’s any way that any of these idiots come out of this alive?”

“No, I don’t, but I didn’t think there was before, and that didn’t stop you wanting to stick around, and I’d just like to find out what changed your mind?”

“I don’t know!” Sami snapped. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? Emerald told us that magic was real, and I… I guess I thought that we might find some. That I could get my hands on some relic of the old gods, that I could… that I could do what my clan has always wanted to do but never been able to manage.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “And now?”

“And now…” Sami shook her head. “Where is it?” she demanded. “The magic? Have either of us seen any sign of it?”

“Ruby’s place?” Jack suggested. “That light-”

“So the monsters have magic, isn’t that terrific?” Sami growled. “Meanwhile, what have we got? No magic of our own, that’s for sure. I thought that… but we aren’t going to live long enough to get to Anima and…” We aren’t going to live long enough to kill one of the Maidens; it’s too big a risk. At these odds, I’d rather survive. Maybe it would have been different if there’d been somebody to stick with, someone with power of their own, someone whom Sami could shelter behind until the time was right… but there wasn’t. There was only a grossly uneven struggle and the promise of death at the end of it.

“I know that,” Jack said. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” Sami interrupted. “And it won’t be easy; in fact, it’ll likely be hard. But we’ll survive, you and me, if we have one another’s backs. We’ll… we’ll kill some old thegn and take his steading for ourselves, with a palisade and towers and people to work for us. Maybe. We’ll see. But we need to get out. Out from under the thumb of Cinder and Cardin, out and away from Freeport before they stick us on a boat. Out, away from the Queen and her law.” Out away from my clan. “So, are you in?” She’d go without him, if she had to, but it would be easier to stay alive with somebody to watch her back.

Jack was silent for a moment. His jaw worked as though he was chewing on something. Slowly, he bent down and picked up his shotgun-axe from off the floor. “I never much wanted to be a hero anyways,” he said.

Sami grinned. “Smart boy. Now, let’s get out of here.”

Author's Note

I can't guarantee how long it will last exactly but, even if only for a brief period, these 'new-new' chapters will be returning to a weekly schedule.

Before A Greater Power

Before a Greater Power

Sami and Jack reined in their horses, slowing the creatures to a stop.

“That’ll do for now,” Sami declared, patting her grey stallion upon the neck. “We don’t want to wear out the creatures. They’ve got many miles left to carry us, don’t you, boy?”

The stallion snuffled in agreement, prompting a little chuckle from Sami as she gave him another pat on the neck.

Jack twisted around in the saddle, looking back the way that they had sped from Freeport. “You don’t think they’ll come after us?”

“Over two stolen horses and a couple of dead men?” Sami responded. “Nah, they won’t go haring off into the dark for that. Maybe they’ll send a Ranger patrol out after us in the morning.”

“Then shouldn’t we best make good time before the morning comes?” Jack asked.

“We’ve put good distance between us already,” Sami reminded him. It had been pretty easy, getting out of Freeport. Honestly, it had been a little easier than she had been expecting; slitting the throats of the guards on the gate, taking a couple of horses form the picket line, opening up said gate, and galloping away. There had been no challenge from the soldiers manning the defences on the hills beyond the town; Sami guessed that the troops had assumed that Sami and Jack were Rangers out on some night patrol. They hadn’t been stopped, no one had so much as asked them whither they were bound.

They had just rode through the lines and out into the night.

The two of them had turned off the road already; if there was a hue and cry put up come daylight then, the road is where the search would focus its attention, so it was better for them to stay off said road and find other ways of getting around. That was just fine by Sami. She had grown up here, after all, and the Fall Forest Clan had never been a clan that stuck to the old roads. They had moved over hill and dale, followed river courses, or even simply navigated by the stars.

The same stars that she could see above her as she raised her head. Though the world was shrouded in night, though the moor on which they had halted their gallop was flat and featureless, so long as she could see the sky, Sami knew exactly where she was.

She slipped out of the saddle of her horse and began to lead it by the reins. “Come on. We’ll walk the horses for a bit.”

Jack dismounted, a little more reluctantly than Sami. “Where are we going?” he asked as he followed her.

“There’s a stream not too far from here,” Sami told him. “Somewhere we can water the horses, fill up our canteens, and then follow the stream until it reaches a river that we called the Chickahominy; we follow that northwest, and I know for a fact that there are settlements and farmsteads up that way. We can rob some people, maybe kill a couple, find somewhere to lie low while we consider our next move.”

Jack huffed. “I don’t mind robbing a man with more than me, but killing ‘em… I never tried to kill nobody if I could avoid it, and killing when we don’t even intend to settle down in the place we’re killing for… it don’t entirely sit right with me.”

Sami looked at him over her shoulder. “You growing a conscience on me, Jack?”

“I’ve always had a conscience,” Jack muttered, shifting defensively. “It ain’t always much of one, but it’s there.”

“You had no problem with killing those two guys on the gate.”

“They would have tried to stop us.”

“Exactly,” Sami said. “We kill when we need to, and might we’ll need to kill in future.”

“No call to kill someone if we’re just going to hole up in their place for a few nights,” Jack replied. “If we got guns and they don’t, then-”

“What?” Sami replied. “We hold them hostage? Wait for our throats to get slit while we’re sleeping? Easiest to put them out of their misery.”

“Easy don’t make it right,” Jack said.

Sami stopped and turned around to face her travelling companion. “Don’t go soft on me now, Jack,” she said sharply. “I didn’t need you to get out of town. I don’t need you now. We can help each other out along the way to where we’re going, but not if you don’t have the balls to do what has to be done.”

Jack didn’t meet her eyes. He didn’t have the courage even to do that. He looked away from her instead. “I’ll do what I have to do to survive.”

“And so will I,” Sami declared. She contemplated killing him now; if there was a chance that he might turn on her, then it was better to be rid of him quickly and save herself the need to sleep with one eye open… but she didn’t think that he had the courage for that either, and if she were on her own, she’d still need to sleep with one eye open against the grimm.

He wouldn’t move against her. He wasn’t that kind. So long as he didn’t give her any grief when she decided to off somebody, they’d get along just fine.

Any further thoughts that Sami might have had upon this subject were interrupted by the sudden panicked whinnying of her stolen horse. The stallion neighed in panic, pulling against the bit in Sami’s hands as it tried to rear up in panic. Its eyes were wild, and spittle flew from its mouth as it tried to free itself from Sami’s grip.

“Easy, boy, easy,” Sami whispered, but the beast would not be calmed; it continued to pull with its head, kept trying to rear up and step away, and no amount of pulling and nothing that she could say would stop it.

“What is it?” Jack growled as he too struggled against the mare that he had stolen. “Is it the grimm?”

“These are Ranger horses; you’d think they’d be trained to stand the grimm,” Sami said. But something had spooked the horses and spooked them badly, and whatever it was was probably something they ought to be nervous about.

Sami let go of the reins, and instantly, her stallion reared up in a panic – Sami just got out of the way to avoid being kicked in the head – and ran away to the south, hooves pounding upon the ground.

“Now what do we do?” Jack cried, as his own mount took off after the other. “All of our supplies were in those saddlebags.”

“They’ll come back,” Sami said, as much in hope as expectation. “Once they calm down, we can find them again.” Right now, she was more worried about what had spooked the horses than she was about the horses themselves. She drew her knife, holding it in a reverse grip up near her head, her other hand up to block any blows aimed at her face.

Jack pumped his shotgun axe. “You see anything?”

“No,” Sami grunted, and wasn’t that strange? Why couldn’t she see anything? She was a reindeer faunus; she had great night vision.

Except it wasn’t just night’s darkness all around them now, it was… it was smoke: thick, black smoke like a fire. Except that she couldn’t smell a fire, she hadn’t seen a fire, and she certainly wasn’t feeling any heat.

All she felt was cold, such cold her breath was misting up in front of her.

Sami and Jack stood back to back, peering out into the darkness.

Sami bared her teeth. Come on, show yourself.

She sensed something behind her; she turned, only to see Jack disappear as he was borne backwards in a blur of motion, snatched away into the smoke and the darkness, borne out of sight.

“Jack!” Sami shouted.

Jack cried out in a mixture of pain and anger. Sami couldn’t see him, but she heard his shotgun roar once, twice; she heard Jack yell again.

“Jack!” Sami cried out. “Get back here!”

She heard the sound of Jack’s shotgun firing for a third time, heard a scream of pain, and then there was nothing but the silence and the cold.

“Jack?” Sami yelled. “Jack, can you hear me?”

Sami dived to one side as something hurtled out of the smoke to land upon the ground. It would have hit her if she’d been a second slower.

It was Jack’s body, twisted and broken; someone or something had stabbed him in the chest more than once and snapped his neck for good measure.

His shotgun axe was still clutched tightly in one hand.

Much good it had done him. Sami considered prying it out of his cold dead hands but decided against it. Not out of any sentimentality, but because it wasn’t her weapon, and this wasn’t a great time to try and learn how to use it.

Sami’s breathing was heavy and seemed heavier for the way that it was misting up in front of her; she gave up trying to see into the smoke and focussed on trying to sense things with her aura. Where was it? Where were they? What was after her, and where was it going to come from?

Behind!

Sami whipped around just in time as a figure sprang at her from out of the smoke: a scorpion faunus with a long tail emerging from the seat of his pants and one of the ugliest faces that Sami had ever set eyes upon, he looked as though somebody had tried to beat him to death, and if they hadn’t succeeded, they’d left enough marks on his face to show that they’d given it a good go.

Who could have broken this guy’s aura? Sami couldn’t lay a hand on him. Her semblance was activated, telling her exactly where she needed to hit him, but the problem was that she just couldn’t hit this guy. He was so fast; he moved like he was a fly instead of scorpion, flitting back and forwards, from side to side, not bothering to block her strokes when he could just leap away from her. Sometimes, he’d disappear into the smoke, letting his maniacal laughter ring out from the darkness before he sprang at Sami again.

But she wasn’t dead yet, Sami thought as she took a blow from the claw-like blades mounted to his wrists with her other arm. She slashed at his eyes, and though he leapt away, at least it got him away from her for a second. At least it gave her some breathing room.

“Not bad,” the scorpion faunus allowed as his tail rose behind him. “I knew that I chose the right one.”

Sami grunted. “The right one for what?”

“Why, the right one not to kill straight away, of course,” he said, cackling.

Sami’s eyes widened. “Have you… have you been toying with me?” she growled.

The scorpion cocked his head to one side. “Did you…?” He laughed again. “You actually thought that you were keeping up? Oh, child. Oh, child.”

He sprang at her again, and this time, he was so much faster than he had been before. This time, his tail lashed out at Sami, going for her eyes. She fell back, slashing wildly with her knife, and then the scorpion tail wrapped itself around one of her legs, and she just fell with a startled cry to the ground.

The next thing she knew, the scorpion faunus was on top of her, leering down at her as he wrested the knife out of her hand.

Sami scowled; she growled, she struggled, she tried to bite him or headbutt him or anything, but she couldn’t. He was too strong, and his face was just too far away.

I won’t die like this! Sami raged. I refuse to die like this!

This can’t be how it ends.

“Hmm,” the scorpion faunus mused as he looked down on her. “You remind me of someone. You’ve killed before, haven’t you… and you enjoyed it?”

“Everyone enjoys the killing,” Sami spat. “It’s just that people pretend they don’t because they know you’re not supposed to. Well, the people who say you’re not supposed to are the ones who need killing the most.”

The scorpion chuckled. “Yes, I thought the same as you once. I enjoyed the pleading of my victims, I enjoyed the futility of their attempts to beg for mercy; I enjoyed making them suffer.” His scorpion tail descended, until it was hovering less than an inch from Sami’s eye. Sami stopped struggling. She didn’t want to give him an excuse.

“But in the end, it didn’t satisfy me,” the scorpion faunus went on. “I had to keep on finding new victims because none of the old ones brought me any… fulfilment. I was looking for something, a greater purpose to which to put my lethal skills. A purpose that I found in the service of the Goddess.”

Sami’s eyes widened. “You work for Sa-”

“Don’t say her name!” the scorpion roared. “We are not fit to form her name with our mere mortal lips.”

“Fine, fine,” Sami said quickly. “The Goddess it is. All hail The Goddess.”

“Exactly,” he replied. “You catch on quickly, girl. Now, since you and your unfortunate friend seem to have parted ways with them, tell me where I can find Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer.”

Sami frowned. “Who’s Sunset Shimmer?”

The scorpion faunus rolled his eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to survive. Don’t waste it by lying to me. If this is some misguided attempt at loyalty-“

“'Loyalty'?” Sami couldn’t resist a snort of derision. “Believe me, if I knew who in Remnant Sunset Shimmer was, I’d tell you. But I’ve never heard the name before. I know exactly where Ruby Rose is, though.”

“Really?” he asked eagerly. “Do tell.”

“Freeport,” Sami said. “She’s in the town of Freeport and having a grand old time with her newfound cousin there.”

“Hmm,” the scorpion faunus mused. “But Sunset Shimmer means nothing to you?”

“Not a thing,” Sami said.

“Hmm,” he murmured again. He released her and leapt backwards, landing perfectly upon his feet. “What is your name, girl?”

Sami climbed to her own feet more slowly. “Sami,” she said, “of the Fall Forest Clan.”

“And what is that you want, Sami of the Fall Forest Clan?” he asked. “What is that your heart desires?”

“Magic,” the word passed Sami’s lips instantly.

The scorpion’s eyebrows rose. “'Magic'?” he repeated.

Sami nodded. “The birthright of my clan. My birthright. I want the power that my ancestors lost, the power we’ve dreamed of. I know about the Maidens; I know the power is out there somewhere. And I want it.”

The scorpion faunus laughed. “Excellent!” he cried. “Excellent! The Goddess did say that we needed more candidates, and you may… suffice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My name is Tyrian Callows,” Tyrian announced. “A humble emissary of the Goddess. I will never be anything more than her devoted servant, but if you serve the Goddess well, you may be rewarded with all that you crave… and more.”

“And all I have to do is give you Ruby Rose?” Sami asked.

“To begin with,” Tyrian said. “Is that a problem?”

Sami grinned. “I don’t even have to think about it.”

“Wonderful!” Tyrian cried. He laughed giddily as he turned away from her, and Sami noticed that the smoke all around them began to recede, revealing the stars above and the world around to her night-piercing eyes.

“Now,” Tyrian said, “take me to this Freeport.”

They had covered the bodies up with sheets but left them where they lay on the ground for now. Apparently, they weren’t quite sure what to do with them yet.

And so they lay there, covered in white shrouds stained with blood leaking through from their slit throats, waiting for kinsfolk or commander to take them away.

The bodies had been left, but the gate had been closed again. If there was anyone mustering to pursue Sami and Jack, Cinder could see no sign of it.

She and Cardin stood on one side of the gate, closer to the fallen sentries of Freeport; Sunsprite Rose stood on the other side of the gate, accompanied by Ruby and Taiyang. The Sun Queen stood between the two of them, accompanied by her chamberlain, Laurel.

Laurel’s pasty face seemed even paler and more wan than usual, and her thin lips were pursed together. “They slit the throats of Joshua and David, took two horses from the picket line, and then rode away. Vermin,” she added, spitting the word.

“Are you going to go after them?” Cardin asked.

Sunsprite shook her head. “Horses become too skittish in the dark; they stumble too easily. We cannot risk broken necks or running into grimm blundering about in the night.” Her single visible eye narrowed. “Will you pursue them?”

“Unlike them, now, we don’t have horses,” Cardin explained apologetically. “And we don’t have time to chase down deserters.”

“Of course not,” Sunsprite spat. “You have a mission to attend to, of great import.”

Cinder smiled. “Is that a note of scepticism that I detect in your voice?”

“Sunsprite didn’t mean anything by it,” Ruby said quickly.

The hard smile on Cinder’s face did not waver as she strode forwards towards the Rose family. “I’m sure that your cousin, valiant Captain of Rangers as she is, can speak for herself, Ruby.”

Sunsprite stared at her, her single silver eye as hard as Cinder’s expression. “You did this,” she growled. “You brought these treacherous rats within our walls.”

“And we’re sorry about that,” Cardin said. “We had no idea that they would act this way.”

“Really?” Sunsprite demanded. “You knew exactly what they were.”

“Yes, but they’ve always toed the line before, even if they weren’t happy about it,” Cardin replied. “I don’t know what would make them suddenly decide to take a risk like this.”

“I do,” Sunsprite snapped. “The scorpion cannot hide its nature.” She glared at Cinder.

Cinder’s smile widened. “Why do I imagine there’s some judgement going on?”

“You may smile more than your companions, but you are no different,” Sunsprite hissed into Cinder’s face. “You are as vile a creature as these two who have fled.”

Cinder’s face twitched with irritation. “The list of people I will allow to address me thus is small,” she snarled, “and does not include you.”

Sunsprite scoffed. “And who are you, that I should fear you or take note of what you think of my words?”

“I’m Cinder Fall,” Cinder declared.

“And what is Cinder Fall?” demanded Sunsprite. “Nothing.”

Cinder bared her teeth as she grabbed Sunsprite by the scruff neck and picked her up off the ground, slamming her back-first into the wall. “Perhaps when I have ripped out your other eye, you will see me better!”

“Cinder!” Ruby cried.

“Cinder, that’s enough,” Cardin said.

Cinder ignored them both. She did not ignore, however, the pulse of aura that blasted from the palm of Sunsprite’s hand as she slammed it into Cinder’s chest, hurling her backwards and forcing the Sun Queen’s guards to scatter lest she slam into them like bowling pins. Cinder landed nimble on her feet, the fingertips of her left hand lightly brushing the ground as she looked up at Sunsprite.

The Ranger stepped forward, her yellow cloak billowing out behind her as she reached for her sword. “I will give you the lesson I should have taught you when I first found you in Ruby’s presence.”

Cinder threw out her right hand. A glass blade formed in her grip. Cinder grinned. “Bring it on, you arrogant one-eyed-”

“Enough!” the Sun Queen bellowed as she strode between the two of them. “Enough! Sunsprite, sheath your sword.”

Sunsprite’s eye widened. “But-”

“I gave you a command, Captain,” the Sun Queen hissed. “If you love me, you will not make me repeat myself.”

Sunsprite’s face paled as she thrust her blade back into its scabbard. “Of course, my Queen. I am at your command.”

The Sun Queen turned to face Cinder. The light of the torches glimmered off her golden mask. “Please, we in Freeport have no quarrel with you. You are not held responsible for the actions of your companions.”

“Cinder,” Cardin said. “Let it go.”

Cinder hesitated for a moment, before she let the glass blade melt away as she rose to her full height. “Forgive me,” she murmured. “My… temper got away with me a little bit.” And how long was it since I let that happen? How long since a petty insult like that got under my skin that way?

Since I started trying to be good for reasons that I can no longer recall.

She still wanted to rip Sunsprite’s eye out. She could feel the anger blazing hot within her; it was an old part of herself, a part which she thought she had rid herself of, a part which frightened her. But why it frightened her… she could not recall. She had tried to cage the worst parts of herself, but… to what end? What had driven her to do it?

The Sun Queen raised her hands, her robes swirling like ocean waves around her as she turned. “You know that I care for each and every son and daughter of Freeport,” she declared. “You know that I mourn for the losses of our brave defenders as if they were my own sons. I assure you, behind this mask, I weep so many tears for Joshua and David as will make a new lagoon to lay beside our walls, and if I could hurl myself into the ground in place of these brave warriors, I would do so without hesitation.”

She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. “But I cannot. You all know that I cannot. Our comrades are dead, and though they were taken from us before their time, there is nought that we can do but keep moving forward and dedicate ourselves to the defence of that for which they gave their lives: the dream of Freeport.” She turned to face Sunsprite. “Because I share in your sorrow, I understand your anger, but let us not forget that while this Valish company has brought some trouble within our walls, it has also brought the return of Ruby Rose, Freeport’s lost daughter, back home into the bosom of her family.” She reached out and put one arm around Ruby’s shoulders, drawing her in and into a one-armed embrace. “And for that, they shall always have our gratitude, shall they not?”

“Of course they will,” Sunsprite said at once. “My Queen.”

“I am glad you agree,” the Sun Queen said. She laughed. “I am glad that you have not so quickly lost interest in your new family, Sunsprite.”

Sunsprite managed to smile. “Never, my Queen.”

“All three of you, go to the Sun Tower and await me there; we have matters to discuss,” the Sun Queen said. She looked around to Cardin and then to Cinder. “It is a bad business, but not your fault.”

“Thank you for your understanding,” Cardin murmured.

“And as for your reaction, think nothing of it,” the Sun Queen added. “Sunsprite spoke a little too rashly in her wrath. Although I fear she may not be alone in apportioning blame, so it might be best if you returned to the Tower of the Moon now and did not leave unless I summon you.” She fell silent for a moment. “But be of good heart, for I have considered the matter and decided to grant you a ship to carry you across the sea to Anima upon your quest.”

Cardin let out a ragged sigh of relief. “You’re very generous, Your Majesty.”

“Indeed,” the Sun Queen said immodestly. “It only remains for me to decide which ship and which captain to bear you. You will know soon enough. If you will excuse me.”

Cardin bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Cinder said nothing as the Sun Queen departed. Cardin was right; it was very generous of her to grant them such a boon, especially in light of the actions of Sami and Jack, but at the same time, for all its generosity, she felt nothing. She felt no gratitude, although she knew that she ought to feel at least some. This was why they had come to Freeport in the first place, this was what they wanted, this was exactly what they had hoped for… and Cinder didn’t care.

This was the means by which they would continue their quest, and she was struggling to raise any enthusiasm for it at all. Why did she want to go to Anima, to meet with Jaune and Pyrrha, two people who probably didn’t look on her with much more favour than Ruby did? What was she doing here?

Why couldn’t she remember anything about her motives for coming all this way?

The world needed someone to fight for it, but… so what, bluntly? The world had never shown her any kindness; why should she start returning the favour? Why should she fight for people who held her in contempt? There must have been a reason to bring her across Vale and Estmorland and to the far shore of Sanus, but what was it? Why couldn’t she remember?

“Cinder,” Cardin said sharply, intruding upon her thoughts.

Cinder shook her head. “Yes, I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying we should probably go,” Cardin said. “There’s no point in standing around here too long.”

“Of course,” Cinder grunted. “Lead the way.”

She fell in beside and just a little behind Cardin as they made their way through the ramshackle streets of Freeport towards the Moon Tower; the white spire gleamed in the darkness and grew larger overhead with every step they took towards it.

Cardin glanced at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cinder grunted.

"Yeah, right," Cardin muttered. "Normally, I'd…" He trailed off.

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "Are you sure that you're alright?" she asked pointedly.

"I'm fine," Cardin repeated her words back at her. "I just forgot what I was going to say."

"Seems like I'm not the only one having memory issues," Cinder muttered.

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," Cinder said dismissively; this wasn't something that she wished to talk to Cardin about. "She's leaving."

"Who?"

"Ruby, who do you think?" Cinder demanded. "She's leaving… or should that be staying? You take my meaning, in any case."

Cardin nodded. "She's not coming with us to Anima."

"And why would she?" Cinder asked. "She has a cousin and a grandfather here in Freeport. Here, she can find herself again, after the losses that she endured in Vale. Here, she can… find a place where she belongs."

"She won't have that in Mistral with Jaune and Pyrrha?" Cardin asked.

"They can't replace her sister," Cinder replied. "They aren't family… at least, not in the same way."

"I guess not," Cardin admitted. He scowled. "Can… can we do this without her?"

Cinder chuckled. "That's a rather pointless question, considering that we don't have much choice in the matter."

"'Much choice'?" Cardin repeated. "Do we have any choice in the matter? It's not like we can kidnap her and force her to come with us." He paused. "Please tell me that's not what you were suggesting."

Cinder glanced at him. "Do you think that I would suggest such a thing?"

"You did just flip out and threaten to rip out someone's eye."

"She deserved it," Cinder growled.

"Because she insulted you?"

"Is that not a perfectly good reason to want to rip someone's eye from their socket?" Cinder asked courteously. I've wished people dead for less.

I've killed them for less, although that was before my presently inexplicable decision to turn over a new leaf.

"Not really, no," Cardin murmured, sounding slightly concerned. "Are you sure you're okay? Because with Ruby gone, you're the only person here who I can actually rely on."

Cinder snorted. "I suppose from that perspective, what happened with Jack and Sami might almost be a blessing in disguise. Two fewer untrustworthy elements for us to be worried about."

"Let's not say that where the Sun Queen can hear us," Cardin said. "But… you might have a point. It was probably inevitable that something like this would happen. Too few decent people to keep all the scum in check; I should have seen it coming, but we'd been managing up until now, so-"

"How?" Cinder asked.

"’How,’ what?" asked Cardin in turn.

"How have we been managing up until now?" Cinder demanded. "How have we managed to keep Sami and Jack in line up until this point, how have we made it this far without having our throats slit? If I'm the only one you can rely on, how have we been holding this group together all the way from Vale?" And what's changed that now they decided to make a break for it?

Cardin stopped, confusion coming upon his features. "I… what are you asking, we made it this far because…"

"There were four of us at first, weren't there?" Cinder asked. "Me, Emerald, Sami, Jack. And I was the only one who could be trusted."

"Emerald always followed you," Cardin pointed out.

"True," Cinder admitted. "But that's still two against two; how come neither Sami nor Jack tried anything when you weren't in the field?"

"They were scared of you."

"Of me?" Cinder repeated. "I haven't felt that frightening for some time, and I don't think I've intimidated anyone that much for some time either. The last time I could command that much fear, I still had half the powers of the Fall Maiden."

"Don't sell yourself short; you're still a badass," Cardin said.

"Flattery won't change the subject; how have we managed?"

"We had Ruby," Cardin said. "And we got lucky. How do I know how we managed to get this far before anything happened, but we did, so what's your point?"

My point is that I don't remember. I don't remember, and I can't explain the things I don't remember. The point is that my memory is full of holes, and I can't fill them up from the context. The point is that I'm not sure what I'm doing here.

"The other choice that I was referring to was not to kidnap Ruby," she said, "but to follow in her example."

Cardin stopped, turning to face her. His eyes were wide with disbelief. "You mean… quit? Just walk away?"

"Is this our fight?"

"Isn't it everyone's fight?"

"Everyone isn't fighting it," Cinder replied. "We're being asked to do what no one else is, and why? Ozpin didn't choose us for this, he chose Ruby, but that hasn't stopped her from choosing a different, safer, happier path. Why should we feel under greater obligations than she does?"

"You're under obligations to Vale," Cardin reminded her.

"We're not currently in Vale, in case you haven't noticed."

Cardin licked his lips. "Is this you telling me to expect you to run in the near future?"

Cinder chuckled. "If I ran, it would only be as far as the Frost Mountain Clan, so no," she said. "This is me asking you if you wouldn't rather go home."

"Yes, I would," Cardin replied. "Of course I would, but… if someone doesn't fight back against Salem, then Vale is as likely as anywhere else to fall to darkness, and if Ruby won't do anything, then… what if I can protect Vale best by fighting far away from Vale? By making sure that Salem's plans never get anywhere near the place?"

"You can't win," Cinder murmured. "Against her power, there is no victory."

Cardin was silent for a moment. "Someone very smart once said to me, 'It's not about saving the world; it's about doing your best every day.' My best… might be along this road we’re on, so I'm going to walk it for at least a little longer. Are you going to walk it with me?"

"Yes," Cinder said, and even she was a little surprised that she had said it. "Yes, I will stand with you, Cardin Winchester. Though it may be hopeless, I…" I have nothing better to do. "You're right, even if the Frost Mountain Clan were to make me one of them, the doom would come upon them sooner or later; if I can prevent that… what choice have I but to try? And besides…"

"Besides what?"

"I think… " I think that someone would be disappointed in me if I didn't, even if I have no idea why in Remnant I should feel this way.

Queen Sunset stood over Ruby Rose, regarding her from out of the eye-slits in the mask of gold that hid her face from the sight of the world.

“I am… delighted,” she said, “that you have decided to become a part of our great enterprise here in Freeport. Both of you,” she added to Taiyang.

Taiyang modestly declaimed a share in her words. “I know that it’s really Ruby you’re glad to have.”

That was true, but all the same, Sunset chuckled as though he had something absurd. “You make it sound as though your daughter is a mere commodity, an object I am glad to own.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Taiyang said. “I just meant… Ruby is the one with roots here, Ruby is the one who belongs here, Ruby is-”

“The Silver-Eyed Warrior?” Sunset asked. She let out another little burst of laughter. “I’m going to annoy Sunsprite very much at this point,” she added mischievously, glancing towards Sunsprite where she hovered a little behind her cousin, “and say that having silver eyes doesn’t automatically make you a great warrior.”

Sunsprite spluttered. “My queen! My line are destined-”

“Destined to fight, yes; that doesn’t mean you’re destined to be good at it,” Sunset declared.

Sunsprite’s face started to redden, but any further outraged sounds were drowned out by the ringing of Sunset’s laughter.

“Oh, relax, Sunsprite!” Sunset cried. “I tease you because you’re so easily upset!” She reached out, over Ruby’s shoulder, and took the Ranger captain by the hands. “You are one of my most trusted and valued servants, but not for that one eye you cannot use.” Sunsprite flinched at that; she disliked being reminded that she had not unlocked the power that was her birthright and the crowning glory of her line. Sunset affected to ignore it as she continued to speak. “But for your courage, your steadfastness on the battlefield, and most importantly, for your loyalty.”

She looked down at Ruby once again. “It is the same with you, Ruby Rose; though you have the fabled silver eyes, and if you learned to wield them, I would not be displeased.” That was an understatement at least; Sunset would jump for joy to have that power at her disposal, and she meant to have it under her command. But that was something to discuss later, once all of her friends had been packed off to Anima, once Ruby had become accustomed to Sunset’s service, once she had become so eager to help that she would do anything, take any risk, to activate the power of her eyes. Sunset might send her into a situation where she would surely die if she couldn’t activate her eyes; it would be a loss, but not a great one. “But it is not for your eyes that I am glad to have you here, but for the heart of a hero that you have demonstrated since I met you.” She reached out and ruffled Ruby’s hair affectionately. “Welcome to Freeport, Ruby Rose.”

“Thanks,” Ruby said. “I mean, thank you, Your Majesty.”

“‘My Queen’, will do fine,” Sunset corrected.

“Of course, um, my Queen,” Ruby said. “Thank you, for letting us both stay here and get to know my family better.”

“Sunsprite is, besides being very easy to upset, one of my most faithful servants,” Sunset said. “How could I refuse her this, especially when I gain not one but two capable warriors to fight for Freeport?” She looked at Taiyang. “I hope that you, like your daughter, have no objection to assisting in the defence of this town.”

“I’m willing to earn my keep,” Taiyang said. “Although I’ve been a teacher for the last few years.”

“Perhaps a place can be found for you training our warriors,” Sunset suggested. “You would be wasted on the front lines.” She knelt down in front of Ruby. “As for you, Ruby, how would you feel about serving in your cousin’s Ranger company?”

“That sounds great,” Ruby declared. “I’m willing to do whatever I can to help Freeport and repay you for your generosity.”

“I delight to hear it,” Sunset said. She knelt down in front of Ruby, so that they were closer to eye level with one another, for all that Ruby would not be able to see Sunset’s eyes through her mask. “This town, this community that we are building here in Freeport, is a family. Every single person who dwells within these walls is kin to me. I hold them precious in my heart, and for their sake, I will do… anything.” She placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “You are too old to be my daughter, but I am not too young to be your older sister and stand in place of she whom you so tragically lost.”

Ruby hesitated for a moment, and Sunset worried that she had pushed it too far, too fast. But then Ruby smiled, albeit a wan and melancholy smile. “Thank you, my Queen.”

Sunset rose to her feet. “I suppose you will want to move in with your cousin and grandfather? It is not appropriate for you to stay in the Moon Tower now that you are no longer guests.”

“That would be…” Ruby trailed off, looking at Sunsprite. “I mean, is that okay?”

“We’ll find room somehow, and Grandfather will be delighted,” Sunsprite said.

“Excellent,” Sunset said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much pressing business to take care of.”

“Of course, my Queen,” Sunsprite said, bowing her head. “If you two will follow me?”

Sunsprite ushered them both out. Sunset was left alone in her chamber with Laurel, who had stood silent and still throughout.

“You were very quiet then,” Sunset observed, taking off her mask for a moment, since there was no one around to see her face.

Laurel smiled. “It’s sometimes nice to stand back and watch you work; you didn’t need any help from me.”

“You’re too kind,” Sunset said, a touch of amusement in her voice.

“You must have meant at least some of it,” Laurel observed. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to keep her.”

“Have I?” Sunset asked. She crossed the room to a little table that sat beneath a high window. Two metal pitchers sat there, one of wine and one of water, and a few gleaming silver goblets besides. Sunset picked up one of the goblet and held it up towards Laurel, as though in a toast.

“No, thank you,” Laurel said, as she stifled a yawn with one hand. “I should be getting to bed soon.”

“Suit yourself,” Sunset said as she filled half the goblet with rich red wine out of one pitcher and then filled the other half of the cup up with water from the other. “Anyway, I don’t think that I went to much trouble. Not half as much trouble as I went to to get the other me. How is Dawny doing, by the way?”

“Tired,” Laurel said. “She needs to take care of her squatter, and sooner rather than later. I… told her go to bed and handle it. I hope that I have not done ill.”

“Laurel, how long have you known me?” Sunset asked. “I don’t need you to tiptoe around my judgement upon your deeds. It is not what I would have done, but I can see why you did it. And in the morning, Dawn will wake up and the other Sunset will be gone for good.”

“We can hope,” Laurel said softly.

“We can have faith in Dawn,” Sunset declared. “She won’t let us down. Sunset Shimmer will be dead by morning.”

“Well, that’s wonderful to hear,” interrupted a voice from the doorway. “Although it doesn’t quite explain why nobody seems to remember her.”

Laurel gasped as she reached for the dagger at her hip. Sunset whirled around to face the door, pulling her pistol out of her robes even as she hastily replaced the mask upon her face, concealing her from view, even as she beheld the interloper upon the conversation.

He did not hide his presence. He pushed open the door and strode in, stepping over the body of the guard upon the door who fell onto the floor with his throat slit. He was a tall man, a scorpion faunus whose tail waved in the air behind him, with brown hair worn in a braided ponytail and a face that had seen better days by far. His body was lithe and wiry, and on his wrists, he wore a pair of clawed blades, with guns mounted in the centre of them unless she was much mistaken.

She was about to demand to know who he was when he was followed into the room by one of the other Sunset’s companions, the caribou faunus girl.

“You,” Laurel growled.

The scorpion faunus chuckled. “I understand that you may be surprised to see young Sami here, but if you have any thought of harming her, I suggest you forget it. She is under the protection of the Goddess now.” He grinned. “I don’t want to hear her name pass your unworthy lips, but I believe you know of whom I speak.”

Salem. Sunset’s lips felt very dry. Too soon, too soon; much, much too soon. She wasn’t ready, Freeport wasn’t ready, Dawn hadn’t even begun to master her magic yet, Ruby’s silver eyes were inert, her hopes of Equestrian artefacts had yet to bear any fruit. What was she supposed to do, it was too soon! “You are her servant.”

“My name is Tyrian,” he announced himself, “and I have the honour to be a humble servant of the Goddess.”

Sunset kept her pistol trained on him. “I see. There was another guard at the foot of the stairs; I assume they’re dead, too.”

“Yes,” Tyrian said bluntly.

Laurel growled. “When an ambassador comes before a queen, it is customary for them to use less stealth and more courtesy.”

“I am no mere ambassador,” Tyrian hissed. “I am the voice of the Goddess herself.”

“So you say,” Sunset snarled, and the flames of her semblance began to spread across her body as she advanced upon him. “But all I see is one man, one deserter, and two dead bodies, so give me one good reason why I should let you walk out of here alive.”

Tyrian laughed. “You doubt my word? You doubt my mistress? Look into my eyes and tell me if I lie?”

He bore down upon her, his brown eyes changing to a glowing purple colour as he pressed closer and closer, and the heat of the flames from Sunset’s semblance seemed not to faze him not at all. The flames were Sunset’s shield; they kept her safe from harm because no one could touch her and not be burned by them. But Tyrian seemed indifferent to that, indifferent to the fire and what it might do to him; he pressed close as though his aura was limitless, and Sunset found herself falling back before him. He was relentless, fearless; he was filled with absolute security, and his eyes… Sunset had no choice but to look into his eyes, in which she found no fear, no doubt, and no sign at all that he was lying.

“An army of grimm, such as will make the horde you withstood upon the hilltop seem like a mere nuisance by comparison, will fall upon this city and lay it waste,” he declared, “unless I prevent it.”

A whimper slipped out from between Sunset’s lips. He spoke true: he was an envoy of a greater power. A power against which Freeport was not yet ready to stand. A power against which Freeport would never be ready to stand. A power against which her dreams of strength enhanced with magic seemed futile, childish, unbearably naïve.

A greater power before which she could only cringe and ask, “What would you have of me, to spare my city and my people?”

“My command is for four deaths,” Tyrian informed her. “Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ruby Rose.”

“Sunset is dead,” Sunset told him. “And Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos are not here.”

“Sunset is dead?” Tyrian repeated. “That isn’t quite what you said a moment ago.”

“She will be dead,” Laurel insisted, her watery blue eyes flickering between Tyrian and Sami. “Her body has been overthrown and plays host to the spirit of one of our companions. Soon, the last vestiges of her will be extinguished.”

“Hmm, an interesting semblance your companion has,” Tyrian observed. “And if she should successfully fight back?”

“Then her life will be yours to take.”

“Indeed, and so will Ruby Rose.”

“Wait!” Sunset pleaded. “Ruby means no more threat to… to the Goddess; she intends to stay here with us in Freeport; no more will she strive against you.”

Tyrian’s expression was unmoved. “Even if I believed you, it is not my place to contradict the will of the Goddess upon my own initiative. She has commanded, and I will obey.”

“She is my servant,” Sunset begged. “She has pledged herself to me. If I forsake her, I forsake my honour also.”

“What is worth more to you: your honour or your life? Or, if you are not afraid to die, then what of the lives of all your people? Are they not dear to you? Are they not worth forsaking your bond to one girl but recently arrived within your walls?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. He spoke cruelly… but he spoke wisely, too. Ruby had joined her, but only tonight; she had not even ventured forth upon a single ranging for Freeport. Freeport which now stood imperilled because Ruby and Sunset and all the rest had brought the wrath of Salem down upon them.

All the rest. All the rest would have to die too, lest they attempt to avenge Ruby or interfere in the steps that necessity forced upon her.

It is for Freeport, for Freeport and my people. What is one life when weighed against the many lives that are at stake? The survival of many hangs in the balance, outweighing Ruby’s own life – and the lives of all her companions – by so much, there is no contest.

My other self once stood in such a place as this, and she chose monstrously, to put so many lives at stake for so few. I am no monster, and so, I make the lesser sacrifice, and I do so with a light heart.

It is all for Freeport, and my dreams.

“I will do it,” Sunset said. “I will see her dead. Let me arrange it; I can deal with her and all of her companions. You… you need only observe it.”

Tyrian’s eyes narrowed. “This is not a trick?”

“No,” Sunset said quickly, for she had not the strength to attempt trickery, not before a so much greater power. “I swear to you, for the sake of all of Freeport and Estmorland, Ruby Rose will die.”

Your Fight Is Over

Your Fight is Over

“You’re on your own for this one.”

“For your information, Sunset, not everyone is obsessed with what you do or don’t do.”

“Thank you… for reminding me why trusting other people is a bad idea.”

Sunset opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Where was she? What had just happened? She turned around, and Dawn was there, and then… black. Nothing. What had just happened? Where was she? Why could she hear her own voice, and Flash’s voice, when she was her and Flash were in Atlas?

Where was she? Where was Dawn? Where was Robyn?

“To be a huntress is to embody the highest virtues of mankind,” Professor Ozpin said, “to be a light in darkness, when all other lights go out.”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Sunset asked.

“This is not my choice, Sunset,” Princess Celestia said gravely.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Ruby cried.

Words deluged her from all sides, the words of Ruby and Princess Celestia, of Cinder and Pyrrha, of Jaune and Blake and Professor Ozpin, all the words of her life hurled back at her, echoing off the walls of this… where was she? Not in the chamber in the Sun Tower where Robyn Hill had been held. Not where she had been when… what had Dawn done to her?

“What do you think she did to you, Sunset?” Princess Celestia asked as she stepped forward from out of the shadows. She was light itself, radiance incarnate, shining as brightly as the sun that she commanded, so bright that the sun itself seemed to shine from out of her shimmering white coat. Her golden adornments – her crown, her necklace, her slippers, all gleamed effulgent – reflecting more light than was present to reflect upon them. Her mane and tail, majestic with power, flowed behind her, rippling in a breeze that Sunset could not feel, streaming out like a banner inspiring ponies with its presence. Her voice was warm, encouraging, as it had been when Sunset had been stumped by a particularly difficult piece of homework. She smiled. “Surely a problem such as this is not beyond the reason of my most gifted student?”

“Princess Celestia,” Sunset cried. “How are you… what’s going on?”

Princess Celestia’s smile remained in place. “All the answers will fall into place, my little sunbeam, with time and thought and perhaps a little patience.”

Sunset shook her head. Her equine ears flattened down against the top of her head. “I can’t think with all of this noise.”

“You have thought a great deal with all this noise in your head,” Princess Celestia informed her. “You have always been able to shut them out, when you needed to.”

Shut them out. Shut them out. “Everybody quiet!” Sunset yelled, and all the voices – her own and all those of the people she had spoken with throughout her life – were stilled at once, like a gale that blows itself out until the wind is spent and only calm remains.

Sunset sighed. “Thank you,” she said softly. She looked once more at Princess Celestia, and then at the space in which she found herself. It was definitely not the Sun Tower. It looked too… it looked like… Sunset stepped across the room and flicked on the lights, illuminating the shadowy space so that she could actually see where she was. It was her dorm room. It was the SAPR dorm room at Beacon Academy. Everything was as she had remembered it: there were the four beds lined up against the wall; there was the camp bed near the door that had been in place during the times when first Blake and then Amber had stayed with them. There was the window seat where Pyrrha liked to sit and read. The Song of Olivia was set there, pages open. Sunset walked across the room – Princess Celestia made way for her, retreating into the bay between Jaune and Pyrrha’s beds – until she stood over Ruby’s bed. There was the carving of their initials that they had made on the first night… but where were the STRQ initials?

Sunset turned around. On her bed sat both the stuffed unicorn that Flash had won for her and the stuffed alicorn that she had got from Ruby. But she had given the unicorn away to Amber by the time that Ruby gave her the alicorn; that was why Ruby had given her the alicorn. And sitting on the desk was the white knight chess piece that Sunset had picked up in Initiation; she had wanted to keep it, but school rules wouldn’t allow her. And the books, the bookshelves were full of books, but they were not the books that had sat on the shelves when Team SAPR had occupied this room; rather, they looked to be identical copies of Sunset’s journal: rows of leatherbound books embossed with her cutie mark upon the cover.

This was their room, but it had never looked quite like this.

Sunset frowned. She reached out gingerly and touched the nearest book on the shelf, the one closest to her.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re sorry!” Ruby shouted. “Yang’s still dead! She’s dead, and she’s never coming back because Twilight doesn’t trust you! And you know what? She’s right! I don’t trust you either! You’ve ruined everything!” Her lip trembled. “I wish… I wish I’d never met you.”

Sunset let out a gasp, letting go of the book and taking a step backwards, stumbling into the bed.

Princess Celestia watched her, silent and expectant.

“That was a memory,” Sunset murmured, half to herself and half to the princess. “And this… this room is also a product of my memories; that’s why it’s a jumble that was never quite like this; it’s an amalgamation created by my memories of the place.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “The things that stand out in your memories, the things that were important to you.”

“Which means that Dawn used a semblance on me that has… thrown me into my own memories?” Sunset asked.

Princess Celestia smiled. “Ten out of ten, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Which means you’re just a memory too, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here; that’s why you look so… radiant; that’s how I remember you.”

Princess Celestia chuckled. “I’m flattered,” she said. “But yes, I am just a fragment of your memories of me, and this place…” She looked around. “This place is your sanctum.”

“The dorm room is my sanctuary?” Sunset asked.

“Where else would it be?” Princess Celestia replied. “Where did you feel more at home than at Beacon?”

Sunset snorted. “You have a point there, Princess. Why has Dawn done this?”

“I don’t have the answers, Sunset,” Princess Celestia said gently. “I’m only you, remember?”

Sunset chuckled. “True,” she conceded. “I think… she must want… something that I know? Something that I remember? Something that she – or the other Sunset – thinks that I won’t remember. Whatever it is, it’s probably something that I don’t want her to find out, especially given that she’s done this to me to get it. I have to get out of here. I have to get my body back. I need to warn everyone that the other Sunset and her followers aren’t to be trusted. How do I get out of here? Can I get out of here?”

“I-”

“Don’t have all the answers, right,” Sunset interrupted the princess, or the memory that had assumed the form of the princess. “Sorry, it’s just… in my memories, you always know what to do… except what to do about me.” She sighed. “What should I do? What would Princess Celestia tell me to do?”

“I would tell you to trust in your friends.”

“Of course you would, but they’re not here right now,” Sunset pointed out.

“Then I would tell you to trust your instincts.”

“My instincts have seen me reeling from one error to the next,” Sunset declared. “But you’re right, that is exactly what you would tell me.” She huffed. “With all due respect, Princess, but I don’t suppose that any other memory fragments are about to show up with some better ideas?”

“Not unless you have better ideas, Sunset Shimmer,” Princess Celestia said.

“No, I don’t,” Sunset muttered. She had only a vague idea of where she was – in her memories, whatever that entailed – and that idea didn’t suggest much in terms of what she ought to do next. She knew what she wanted, but not how to get there.

It’s a bit too much to hope that I can tap my heels three times and say ‘there’s no place like home.’

Besides, in a sense, I am home; home just isn’t where I need to be right now.

Perhaps if I’d spent more time studying my semblance instead of hiding it away behind a pair of gloves, I’d actually understand how this works and what to do.

For want of anything better to do, Sunset crossed the dorm room again and tried the door.

It opened at her touch, swinging out into the corridor beyond. A corridor that had no other doors, though there should have been the YRDN – or YRBN - dorm room right across the hall.

Please tell me that I wasn’t so self-absorbed that Yang’s team isn’t relevant to any of my memories.

I mean… I don’t remember much about them, except for Blake, but I don’t want to be confronted with the fact so baldly.

Sunset frowned. She took a tentative step out into the corridor and paused, the toe of her boot resting on the wooden floor, or at least the memory of it. One thing that she did remember about the mind, from her trip into her Amber’s memories, was the ability to conjure up things.

Sol Invictus appeared in her right hand; the weight of the wooden stock was reassuring. Sunset smiled down at the rifle, then glanced back over her shoulder at Princess Celestia. “I don’t suppose you can come with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” Princess Celestia replied. “You fear there will be violence ahead, and you don’t want me to be a witness to that side of you.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “I don’t.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Don’t worry, Princess, I can get this done.”

“I have every confidence in you, Sunset Shimmer.”

I wish I had every confidence in myself, Sunset thought as she stepped out into the corridor.

The dorm room door slammed shut behind her.

The corridor went one of two ways: downwards, towards what appeared – at the moment, at least – to be nothing but empty corridor, and upwards, to where there was at least a door of some sort, even if it wasn’t a door that belonged in this Beacon corridor.

It wasn’t a door that Sunset recognised. It was a glass door, decorated with black iron bars tracing fluid, curling patterns over the opaque glass. It looked like something one might find in Vale, or perhaps other places besides, but it wasn’t something that sprang to her mind.

So what was it doing here, amongst her memories?

Sunset walked forward cautiously, bringing Sol Invictus to her shoulder but lowering the barrel so that it pointed a little towards the floor. There was no sound but the tread of her boots upon the wood boards.

There were no other doors in the corridor. There was only the way forward and the door before her that she didn’t recognise.

As she approached, Sunset took her rifle in her off hand and, with her right hand, gingerly began to reach out for the black metal handle of the door.

The door opened before she could grasp it, flooding the corridor with blinding light. Sunset staggered back from it, shielding her eyes from the glare.

“Sunset Shimmer,” Dawn said as she stepped through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind her with a thud. “Sorry for being so abrupt before; it’s just easier to use my semblance on people if I don’t give them any warning first as to what I’m about to do. You know how it is: if you tell people that you’re about to possess them, they can get a little defensive.”

Sunset bared her teeth and raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder. “You.”

“Me,” Dawn replied. “Me, me, me.” She grinned. “And now: you.”

“What do you want?” Sunset demanded.

“I want to serve my queen,” Dawn replied. “I want to please her.” Her eyes narrowed. “I want to know how to use this Equestrian magic that you have in such abundance.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “You’re not planning to ever give me my body back, are you?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like I’m doing something wrong,” Dawn replied. “I mean ‘your’ body? Entitled, much? The way I understand it, this isn’t even the body you were born with, just the one that got created for you by even more Equestrian magic when you came over here into our world. So, really, who’s to say who this body really belongs to? Plus, you know, I’m the one in control right now, and possession is nine tenths of the law.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Also, just between us girls, I’ve always thought the other you was kind of hot.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because my queen commanded it.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Okay, why is she doing this?”

Dawn smirked. “I heard you took out a whole grimm horde at King’s Camp all by yourself. Did you really think that we could let that kind of power slip through our fingers?”

“You can’t control it,” Sunset declared. “You don’t even know where to start.”

“I would, if you told me.”

Sunset’s lip curled into a sneer. “And why would I do that?”

“Because the way I see it, you have two choices,” Dawn said. “Either you help me get a handle on your magic, and I’ll guarantee that Ruby will be treated right here in Freeport, and Cinder and all of your other… minions will be put on a ship for Anima with no more trouble from the rest of us.”

“You think Ruby and Cinder will just let you get away with stealing my body?”

“Do you really think they’ll care enough to do anything about it?” Dawn asked. “Well, aren’t we full of ourselves? You’re not that important, Sunset; people’s lives can carry on just fine without those who think that they’re so indispensable to those around them.” The smirk on her face broadened. “You’d be surprised at how easily a person can be forgotten, even by those closest to them. Now, you can teach me what I want to know, or you can make me rip it out of your memories, and when I wake up, I’ll see to it that sweet little Ruby and Cinder and all the rest end up on crossed pikes before the gate.”

Sunset growled. “I have a better idea,” she said.

“Oh, really? What-?”

Sunset shot her in the face, a sharp bang echoing in the corridor as Sol Invictus blazed with fire. Dawn’s head snapped backwards, her whole body staggering towards the glass and metal door. Sunset reversed the rifle in her hands, smashing Dawn across the face with it, knocking her sideways and sending her slamming into the corridor wall face first.

“You want to see my magic, Dawn?” Sunset demanded. Her hands glowed with power as she bodily picked Dawn up in the grip of her telekinesis, lifting the other girl up off the ground and smashing her into the ceiling before tossing her downwards and face-first into the floor. Sunset’s face was set in a snarl. Yes, she was glad that Princess Celestia – even the princess who only existed in Sunset’s mind – wasn’t here to see this as she unloaded upon Dawn Starfall.

She held Dawn up, suspended in mid-air, writhing helplessly in the grip of Sunset’s magic as Sunset nailed her in the centre of the chest with a blast of magic that hurled her up against the door.

Sunset didn’t let up. She didn’t give Dawn a second to respond to her, to get her breath back, to come up with a response. Both her hands glowed with the green light of her magic as spears appeared in the air to fall one after the other upon Dawn. She was consumed in the blasts, the blasts which Sunset didn’t wait to clear before she conjured upon another round of magical projectiles to hurl after the first. She wasn’t sure exactly how much aura Dawn had left, but she wasn’t taking any chances. With one hand, she hoisted Dawn up into the air once more, and with the other, she hit Dawn dead on with a sustained beam of magic, a continuous stream of green energy that smote Dawn on the chest and hammered at her, burning away her aura until there was nothing left, and then as Dawn screamed in pain, it burned a charred and blackened hole in the centre of her chest.

Sunset released her magic as Dawn’s body dropped to the floor. She let out a breath that she didn’t know that she had been holding in.

That… that had been surprisingly easy. Now, she just needed to get out of here.

The glass door opened, and Dawn stepped into the corridor.

“Ouch,” she complained, clutching her chest where Sunset’s magic had burned. “Now that’s the kind of power that is exactly why we can’t just let you leave.”

Sunset took a step back. “How in-?”

“This isn’t real, silly!” Dawn cried with laughter. “What, did you think that if you killed me in your memories I’d die in the real world?”

“I hoped it might at least kick you back into your own body,” Sunset growled.

“If it worked like that, my semblance would be a lot less useful,” Dawn replied. “My body is supplying aura to me here; so long as that’s true, then I can keep you smothered in here, and there’s really nothing you can do about it.”

“If that’s true, then eventually, if you keep this up, then our auras will merge together in my body,” Sunset mused, “and we’ll both die and be replaced by someone else.” Possibly, they had never actually tested that theory on Pyrrha, but of the various possibilities, Sunset felt it was the most likely. Plus, it might encourage Dawn to get out of her head and give Sunset her body back.

“Maybe,” Dawn conceded. “All the more reason for you to roll over, isn’t it?”

“How do you figure that?” Sunset replied. “If we’re both doomed, then you should scuttle off back where you came from and give me back control of my body.”

“So you can take revenge on me and my queen?” Dawn demanded. She chuckled. “That’ll happen. I believe in what we’re doing here, Sunset; I’m willing to die for Freeport and the Queen. Are you willing to die for your friends?”

“Yes.”

“Clearly not, or you wouldn’t be being so difficult about this,” Dawn replied. “I’ve given you my word, haven’t I?”

“Forgive me if I find it hard to trust the person who has stolen my body!” Sunset snapped.

Dawn sighed. “You can’t get rid of me, Sunset; I’ll just keep coming back. You, on the other hand… you’ve got nowhere to come back from.”

“Better than you have tried to kill me,” Sunset snarled.

“And the more I think about it, the more sure I am that since I’m already in control of your body, whatever emerges from the fusion of our auras will have a lot more in common with me than it does with you,” Dawn continued. “The point is, however this ends, I get what I want.”

“Not if I refuse to tell you how to use my magic,” Sunset growled. “Maybe you will be left standing, however this ends, but I’ll be damned if I teach you how to use my power against my friends, against Equestria!”

“Oh, you’ll tell me one way or another,” Dawn said. “Try not to think about where you keep your memories.”

Mustn’t think about the - dammit!

The door to the SAPR dorm room swung open behind Sunset as she winced in self-disgust.

Dawn chuckled. “Gets ‘em every time.” She brushed past Sunset and strolled down the corridor, leaving Sunset to rush after her into the dorm room itself.

Princess Celestia wasn’t there; she had disappeared into… wherever fragments of memory went. The rest of the room, however, was exactly as Sunset had left it.

“Well, this looks cosy,” Dawn observed as she looked around the room. “Much nicer than the dorms in Atlas. We had to sleep in these stupid bunk pod things. I swear, I was kept awake night after night by the way that Cherry tossed and turned in the bed above me. It’s amazing I stayed alert enough to graduate.”

“Get out,” Sunset growled.

“Not sure about the stuffed animals, though,” Dawn continued. “I mean, how old are you?”

“Get out.”

“And look at this,” Dawn said, approaching the far wall. “You’ve carved your names on the wall. How sentimental.”

“I said 'get out!'” Sunset roared, picking Dawn up and throwing her out of the window. The glass shattered on impact, and Dawn hung, suspended amidst shards of glass, before Sunset dropped her into the void outside.

Sunset turned to the bookshelves, her eyes flickering across the volumes; they all looked identical, but of course they weren’t; each book held its own memories. Since the book nearest to Ruby’s bed had contained Sunset’s most recent memories, then it was logical to assume that the books were in chronological order working their way across the room.

Sunset grabbed the books on the other side of the room, closest to the bathroom. If she was right – and from the voices that rose up to assail her as she touched the book on the right, she thought she was – then these were her oldest memories, her memories of Equestria and of living in Canterlot with Princess Celestia.

Put it away, somewhere she can’t find it.

The book in her hand disappeared in a flash of light, vanishing into the dark recesses of Sunset’s consciousness.

Sunset started to count as she grabbed other books off the shelf, as many memories as she could, stuffing them away where Dawn couldn’t get to them, concealing her magic lessons and her Equestrian life, working her way leftwards.

She had reached a count of eight and had hidden three books in total when the door swung open and Dawn walked in.

“Really?” she muttered. “Did you actually think that would work?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But it made me feel a lot better.”

“Cute,” Dawn growled. “But I don’t understand why you’re-“ She stopped, looking at the empty space at the edge of the bookshelf. “So, you’re keeping memories from me. You got me out, and then you hid them. I’m guessing you started with the memories of your magic because you’re an incredibly petty person who can’t bear to see other people get what they want if she can’t. Am I right?”

Sunset smirked. “Not far off. You’ll never find them.”

“Give them to me.”

“Bite my tail.”

Dawn huffed. “Gods know I have tried to be nice and civil about this, but you’re not leaving me with a lot of options here, Sunset.”

“I may not be able to kill you,” Sunset said, “but if you think you can take me on, then you’re welcome to try.”

Dawn laughed. “Oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t stand a chance in a straight fight against the great Sunset Shimmer. Luckily, I don’t have to. What are you afraid of, Sunset?”

Sunset wasn’t able to stop an image from flashing to the forefront of her mind. An image of a figure in black as the world turned red, and sword like a crimson tongue eager to carve a swathe across the world.

The dorm room door opened again, and Adam Taurus stepped in. The red lines upon his mask were glowing, pulsing with power, and the black of his outfit seemed to spread out around him as he walked as though he were wreathed in shadow.

His murderous smirk gleamed like the blade of a knife.

This was Adam Taurus, but not as he had been in life; this was the Adam Taurus of her nightmares, the Adam Taurus who had haunted Sunset’s dreams from that night at the docks until she had put an end to him, and now, that nightmare had been dredged up from the depths of her subconscious to torment her.

His smile broadened, but he said not a word as he drew his blood-red sword. It was glowing with enough power to slice through her aura at will.

Dawn looked him up and down. “Nice. You have good taste in nightmares.” She looked at Sunset. “Get her.”

Adam started towards her. Sunset teleported, appearing in a flash behind him, in the doorway of the dorm room. She fled out into the corridor, abandoning her remaining memories to Dawn, slamming the door shut behind her. She needed to get away from him; she needed somewhere to hide.

A door appeared on the other side of the corridor. Sunset guessed that it wasn’t Team YRBN’s room.

But it was better than here, wherever it was.

She flung open the door and rushed through it, closing it behind her.

She stood in Professor Ozpin’s office. The gears of the clock ground slowly over her head, casting their shadows on the ground and filling the air with a mechanical rattle. The office was intact, but as empty as it had always been, with only the glass desk and the ornate chair sitting near the back of the office.

Professor Ozpin stood at the window, clutching at his cane with both hands as he stood with his head bowed, almost touching the glass.

Sunset knew that this was another projection of her subconscious, like Princess Celestia before him, but all the same, she couldn’t help but feel her throat go dry. “Professor?”

Professor Ozpin looked at her over his shoulder. “Back again, Miss Shimmer?”

Sunset walked closer to him. “I need to… I had to get away.”

“Ah, you’re running,” Professor Ozpin said. “You’re very good at that, aren’t you?”

Sunset’s breath caught in her throat. “Professor?”

“Running away,” Professor Ozpin explained as he turned to face her. “That’s what you do, isn’t it, Miss Shimmer? You ran away from Equestria, you ran away from Canterlot-”

“I didn’t run away from Beacon,” Sunset insisted, closing the distance until only a few feet separated them.

“No,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But you did let me down in every other way.”

Sunset blinked rapidly. Blinking back tears, or trying to. “I… I tried my best.”

“I trusted you with Amber,” Professor Ozpin said.

“I was trying to save her and Pyrrha both.”

“You gave me hope and then dashed it.”

“I didn’t realise that she’d be so damaged.”

“You didn’t think about the consequences of your actions,” Professor Ozpin declared. “You failed Amber, you delivered her into the hands of darkness… and you failed me.”

“I never meant to.”

“You abandoned me when I needed you the most,” Professor Ozpin cried. “You ran into Vale and left me to face my enemies alone.”

“I know!” Sunset cried. “I know I left you, I know that it’s my fault you died, I know that I screwed up just like I screwed up with Amber, just like I screwed up on the train, just like I screwed up everything.” She shuddered, her whole body racked with a sudden sob as tears welled up in her eyes. “Please, Professor. Please… please forgive me.”

Professor Ozpin’s gaze was as sharp as talons. “I have made more mistakes than any man alive, Miss Shimmer, but I try not to make the same mistake twice.”

The elevator doors opened, and Adam Taurus strode into the office.

Dawn followed behind him. In one hand, she had a book, one of Sunset’s journals, a book of her memories.

“So,” she said. “It seems that you have some experience in messing around with minds and souls already. To think that Atlas built a machine like that. I can’t help but feel as though your disgust with it is colouring your attitude towards me.” She looked up, brushing some of her red and white hair out of her face. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you can find it in you to look past it and consider me with fresh eyes and an open mind?”

Sunset stared flatly at her. Is she being serious right now?

Dawn shrugged. “Ah, it was worth a try. I suppose, looking through your memories, I can see why you think that we’ll turn into some kind of amalgam if you run down the clock; but you see, I’m not meek, mild Pyrrha Nikos; I haven’t spent so long decrying my lack of self that what self there is will just crumble away at the slightest touch of Amber’s aura.”

Sunset snarled. “Don’t talk about Pyrrha that way!”

“What are you going to do to stop me?” Dawn demanded.

Adam took a step forward.

Sunset glanced towards Professor Ozpin. “Professor?”

Professor Ozpin turned away, presenting his back towards Sunset and Adam both.

It was no more than Sunset deserved, but it hurt her a little nonetheless.

Adam sprang for her. Sunset stepped back, her hands wreathed in magic as a beam shot from her palm to slam right into Adam’s crimson blade. It stopped his charge but did him no harm; just as it had in life, his blade protected him from her magic, soaking it up, drinking her power down greedily and turning it into strength for him who held the sword.

Adam grinned with silent savagery as his shining sword glowed brighter still.

Sunset conjured spears from different directions, the magical missiles flying towards him from both flanks and from behind, but Adam turned with phenomenal speed, so fast that even Pyrrha or Dash couldn’t match him, striking the spears before they struck him, catching all of them with his sword. Of course he did; this was a nightmare Adam, an Adam forged out of her perceptions magnified by fear; of course he was too fast for her magic.

That was what she feared he would be.

Adam charged out of the smoke of all the magical explosions, the glow of his sword reflecting off the office floor. Sunset met him with Soteria in hand, the black blade clashing with the red, the ebon night against the rising sun. Sunset slashed at him, but Adam parried her strokes with contemptuous ease and drove her backwards with his furious strokes. Sunset’s boots squeaked upon the floor as she fell back, parrying desperately, trying to keep that sword away from her aura. Trying to keep it from slicing her in half in a single stroke.

He was too strong for her. He was too fast for her magic, and she had never been confident in her ability to beat him close quarters, so, surprise surprise, she couldn’t beat him in close quarters.

Which meant there was only one thing to do.

Sunset teleported back until she was pressed up against the window.

And then she threw herself out of it.

She staggered through the door into the amphitheatre at Beacon. The room was dark, dimly lit as it almost always was, with only the fighting stage illuminated. The pews on which the students sat and watched their fellow students fight were empty, and when Sunset walked forward closer to the stage – passing under the upper gallery – she could look up and see that that was empty too.

The stage, however, was not empty. Ruby stood upon it, dressed not as she had been at Beacon but as Sunset had seen her last, in the new outfit that she had started wearing with the white blouse and the boob window.

“Ruby!” Sunset cried, dashing towards her and leaping up onto the stage. “Please, you have to help me.”

Ruby’s gaze was as hard as stone. “I wish I’d never met you,” she spat.

She looked away, looking towards the doors through which, Sunset saw as she followed Ruby’s gaze, Dawn and Adam had just come in.

“She’s all yours,” Ruby said.

Dawn’s laughter echoed off the walls of the amphitheatre. “This… I’m sorry, but this is just too good! Once I thought might be a fluke, but twice? I have never seen anything quite like this; even your own mental constructs hate you! I mean… I mean I can understand why; you have been an absolutely terrible friend. Why do you even want to get your body back?”

Sunset’s hands clenched into fists. “Because I need to protect my friends-”

“Yeah, sure you do,” Dawn said, flicking through the pages of the book in her hand. “Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Sunset Shimmer, the great protector, Sunset Shimmer, everyone’s best friend, always willing to help them out.”

“I try my best.”

“Like you helped Jaune?” Dawn asked. “Like you helped Blake? Like you helped Amber and Pyrrha?”

“Yes,” Sunset said.

“None of them asked you to help them,” Dawn pointed out. She placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, and he halted, still and silent as the huntsman in the courtyard, sword drawn but making no move to use it. Dawn walked past him, turning the pages in the book. “None of them sought out your help; you just decided-”

“They needed help, even if they were too proud or stubborn to ask for it.”

“And you decided that you were the one to help them,” Dawn cried. “You didn’t even tell them what you were going to do to ‘help’ them; you just went ahead and did it anyway.”

“So I should have just let Cardin keep making Jaune’s life a misery?” Sunset yelled. “I should have let Blake suffer all the slings and arrows? I should have let Pyrrha die, and Amber too? If you’re reading through my memories, then you know what situations they were in, so why don’t you tell me what I should have done instead of helping?”

Dawn shrugged. “You could have talked to them about it,” she said. “But that might have meant having to pay attention to what they wanted, what they had to say. You know, in my time walking through people’s minds, I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people.” She slammed the book shut. “Reading between the lines, as it were.” She started to circle Sunset. Ruby ignored her, walking off the stage and towards the locker rooms.

“You know what I think?” Dawn asked, circumventing Sunset. “I think that you just enjoyed making yourself the centre of attention, instead of Jaune or Blake or Pyrrha. You couldn’t bear the idea of letting them solve their own problems, because that would have meant that people were paying attention to them and not you, and you couldn’t have that. That’s why you want your body back, that’s why you want me out of your head, that’s why you won’t just give me what I want and accept oblivion, because Sunset Shimmer has to be the hero who saves everyone!”

“That’s not who I am!” Sunset yelled. Her voice quietened as she added, “Not anymore.”

“Then why are you resisting?”

“Because I made a promise,” Sunset declared. “A promise to…” She trailed off, her throat drying up.

I made a promise to Amber that I would protect Professor Ozpin.

Because he’s alive and waiting for us.

Which Dawn will find out if she keeps looking in my most recent memories!

Celestia! I should have thought about that; I’m such an idiot!

“Sunset?” Dawn asked, her voice cautious, wary. Adam took a step forward, one hand drifting casually towards the hilt of his sword.

Sunset’s eyes flickered towards the journal in Dawn’s hands. Unless she was mistaken, it was the most recent volume.

Dawn looked down at the book she was holding. “Wh-?”

Sunset teleported the distance separating the two of them, slamming the flat of her palm into Dawn’s nose hard to enough to snap her head backwards. Sunset grabbed the book out of Dawn’s unprotesting hands, and with the speed of thought, it had disappeared to join the others she had hidden.

“Agh!” Dawn growled. “You little-!”

Sunset teleported again, once more wrong-footing the spectral Adam of her nightmares as she got behind him, close to the doors to which she dashed.

And this time, as she ran to the doors, she thought about where she wanted to go.

She burst through the doors and back into the SAPR dorm room, back into her sanctum. Fortunately, Dawn and Adam hadn’t trashed the place while they’d been left here unsupervised, probably because Dawn was more interested in catching up to Sunset than she was in committing acts of vandalism for the sake of it. She checked the bookshelves. It was not the last book which she had hidden, which made Sunset feel rather glad that she had decided to stop by here to make sure. Her hand glowed as she summoned the last book of memories into her outstretched and waiting hand, opening it up; it was mostly blank, with a lot of empty pages still to be written, but when she got closer to beginning, she felt the memory that she had been looking for, the memory that she wanted to hide.

“Professor Ozpin is alive.”

Sunset shut the book, and it disappeared into the recesses of Sunset’s memory. Now, Dawn would never find it. Now, she would never know that secret.

Now, the Sun Queen would never know to hunt for Professor Ozpin and his power the way that she had decided to take Sunset’s magic for her own.

Her duty done, it was time to leave before Dawn and Adam caught up with her.

But where can I go? Where can I hide where they won’t find me?

I hid my memories where she won’t find them.

I might be easier to find; besides, the deepest recesses of my memory might not be too healthy.

Neither is dying.

Sunset shook her head. She had a suspicion that she knew exactly where the ‘deepest, darkest’ pit within her memory was, and it wasn’t anywhere that she was eager to revisit.

I need help. I need someone who can fight Adam, someone who can defeat him, I need-

Sunset ran from the room, darting out of the door and into an arcade.

It was somewhere in Vale. She didn’t remember exactly where in Vale it was; to her recollection, they had never been back, or at least, she hadn’t. Perhaps Ruby and Penny had come back here with only Ciel as a chaperone.

It was less crowded than she remembered. In fact, it was desolately empty. There was no sign of Pyrrha or Jaune; there was definitely no sign of Ruby, not that she would have helped Sunset anyway. But that didn’t matter, because Sunset wasn’t here for any of them.

Sunset was here for Rainbow Dash, who was standing – fully armed and wearing her wings – at the counter where she had brought Sunset a drink and promised to keep her secret.

Sunset jogged through the arcade, her footsteps the only living sound amidst the buzzing and the music of awaiting games, until she reached the counter too.

“Rainbow Dash,” she said, “am I glad to see you.” Rainbow could beat Adam; she’d seen him beat Adam, and even if this was the Adam of her imagination, well, the Rainbow Dash of her imagination should be tough enough to take him out. Pyrrha… Pyrrha in real life probably could have taken him too, but Sunset had always been afraid for Pyrrha facing Adam in ways that she had never been afraid for Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow’s magenta eyes were hard. “I bet you are,” she growled. “Always glad to see a sucker, huh?”

Please. Please not you as well. I didn’t even do anything to you! “What do you mean?”

“I believed you,” Rainbow declared. “I trusted you. And every time, you took advantage of me, threw it in my face.”

Sunset shook her head. “No, I-”

“I should have turned you in for Anon-a-Miss,” Rainbow declared. “I should have told your friends what you really were. I should have turned you in over the train!”

Sunset swallowed. “You… you probably should, yeah.”

“But I didn’t,” Rainbow replied. “Because I owed you. Because I believed all the honeyed words that came out of your mouth. Because I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends.”

“Friends don’t use friends like dust!” Rainbow snarled. “You took advantage of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Sunset murmured feebly.

Rainbow snorted. “What are you doing here, Sunset?”

“I need your help,” Sunset replied.

“You don’t deserve my help,” Rainbow said.

“They’ll kill me.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Rainbow declared. She turned her back on Sunset and began to walk away. She stopped after a couple of paces. “Hey, Sunset, where’s Ruby if you’re in so much trouble?”

“She… she wouldn’t help me either,” Sunset admitted.

“Maybe that should tell you something,” Rainbow growled, before resuming her walk away from Sunset.

Sunset stared after her retreating back until she disappeared into… into wherever memories went.

“Well, screw you too!” Sunset yelled. “I’ll…” She trailed off. “I’ll…” She couldn’t say what she would do. She didn’t know what she would do. She didn’t know who else she could go to. She didn’t know who would help her. She was nought for three amongst the figments of her own imagination so far.

Maybe it should tell me something.

Maybe it should tell me that I don’t deserve anyone’s help.

Sunset’s hands trembled. She felt weak, weary. She felt as though her eyelids were growing heavier. She was tired.

She’d been tired for some time. Tired and lost and empty. No friends, no home… nothing but duty to a cause she had already failed more times than she could count.

What had she actually accomplished? What was one thing that she had done that had actually worked out?

Sunset Shimmer, the hero. Sunset Shimmer the perpetual screw-up, more like.

“Oh, Sunset?” Dawn’s sing-song voice echoed through the arcade.

Sunset hesitated, and for a moment, she considered staying here, baring her throat for Adam’s blade.

“Sunset.”

Sunset turned. Pyrrha stood behind her, Pyrrha clad in her glimmering raiment of war, Pyrrha with the sun upon her face for all that they were indoors, Pyrrha with Miló in hand and Akoúo̱ upon her arm.

“Pyrrha?” Sunset murmured. “What…? I didn’t even-”

“You needed help, and so I came,” Pyrrha declared, her voice soft and gentle.

Sunset’s mouth hung open. She didn’t know what to say; no words would come. “Thank you,” she managed, just about. “That means more to me than… thank you.” She hesitated, certain yet at the same time reluctant. “But you have to go.”

“'Go'?” Pyrrha repeated. “But why?”

“Sunset?” Dawn demanded, her voice getting closer.

“Because you can’t fight for me,” Sunset declared. “He’ll kill you.”

Pyrrha took a step forward. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Sunset insisted. “I had nightmares about it, I feared it… and this is a place where all my fears come true.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Maybe I cannot beat him. Maybe the Adam you imagined is stronger than the Pyrrha of your thoughts. But I can buy you time.”

Sunset shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, I… I won’t have you die for me.”

Pyrrha’s smile was sad, melancholy as her smiles had sometimes been. “But I’m not real, so what does it matter?”

“It matters to me,” Sunset said. “I can’t… I just can’t. Not anymore.”

Pyrrha frowned. “So… what will you do?”

Sunset did not reply. She just smiled and whispered. “Goodbye.”

And Pyrrha disappeared from sight. Sunset was left alone. Again.

Probably for the best. People around me tend to get hurt.

I’ve been a pretty terrible friend, all things considered.

Dawn’s footsteps echoed on the floor of the arcade. “There you are.”

Sunset turned to face her. Adam wasn’t with her, at least not right now. She could probably summon him whenever she liked. “Here I am.”

“Why do you keep running?” Dawn demanded. “Aren’t you tired?”

Sunset shuddered. “You have my memories; you know I am.”

Dawn nodded. “And you have a right to be. What you’ve been… just skimming through your life before, I can’t… it doesn’t bear thinking about what you’ve been through… or what you’ve done.”

Sunset glared at her. “Is everyone going to take a turn to throw that in my face?”

“I’m just pointing out that you had a choice then,” Dawn said. “Just like you have a choice now. You can give me those memories, the memories that will show me how to use your magic so that I can use it to defend Freeport and everyone who lives here from the grimm… or you can be a self-centred little bitch, again, and condemn this city to peril and destruction because you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“I do care,” Sunset snapped. “I care about…”

“About who?” Dawn asked. “About Ruby? About your friends? How about the people who suffer because of your bad decisions, because of your need to be at the centre of things, because you have to be the one who is driving the story? What about Dove, what about Amber, what about Yang? Do you care about them?”

Sunset sank to her knees. “I never meant…”

Dawn knelt down beside her. “I know,” she whispered. “But it happened. And it’s going to keep on happening. We can’t escape who we are, Sunset. We delude ourselves that we can grow and change, but ultimately… we’re still the same people we always were. Even if I left you right now, even if I gave you your body back, you’d just keep on making the same mistakes. You get that, right?”

Sunset nodded mutely. What Dawn said… every word she had said was true. She did keep making the same mistakes, over and over and over again, and other people kept on paying the price for her arrogance and folly: Amber, Professor Ozpin, Dove, Yang… Ruby.

She was so very tired. She no longer desired fame, she no longer desired glory, she no longer wanted… anything. There was nothing left. It had all been burnt out of her, turned to ash in the heat of battle. There was nothing left but duty, duty to a cause that she had already failed more often than she cared to remember, duty to a cause that had no need of her.

Ruby hated her. Ruby was right to hate her, and Cinder… Cinder would be better off without Sunset using her like a therapy dog. Maybe, without Sunset around, she could finally figure out what kind of person she was meant to be.

Maybe it’s time for me to answer for the things that I’ve done.

“Okay,” she whispered as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Hmm?” Dawn murmured.

“I said 'okay,'” Sunset declared, rising to her feet. “You can have the memories. You can have the magic. You can have… you have all of it. Just… take care of Ruby, okay?”

“Of course,” Dawn murmured. “I promise. We look after our own in Freeport.” She smiled. “As a little sister she will be to me.”

Sunset snorted. “As she was to me, once. Watch out, or she’ll get under your skin and right into your heart. Just… don’t let her down.”

Dawn shook her head. “Never.”

“And tell Cinder…” Sunset trailed off. “Try and make Cinder understand that this… this was my choice, in the end.”

Dawn gave a slight nod of her head in acknowledgement.

Sunset got to her feet and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was on the train.

Of course she was on the train. It was always the train. The thing that she regretted most, the decision she had tried her hardest to run from… the heart of everything.

The moment she had ruined everything.

Sunset wiped more tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She could feel the vibrations of the train as it rattled along the rails; she could hear the clanking and the banging. The train felt and sounded like it was moving but it would never stop, never reach the end of the line. Only her choice could stop this train.

Her choice to stop running.

“This is where you hid your memories?” Dawn asked. She had appeared, but Adam had not; Dawn had no more need of him. “I should have known.”

“Yeah,” Sunset muttered. “You probably should have.”

“In my defence, I was only skim reading.”

Sunset ignored that. She knelt down in the centre of the carriage, where a box – an old antique chest – sat before her. A chest full of memories.

A chest full of regrets.

She opened it up. Professor Ozpin’s cane lay there, along with Dove’s sword, one of the gauntlets of Yang’s Ember Celica, Amber’s glimmering golden bracelet, the blade of Sky’s halberd.

Mementos of those she had let down.

And the books. The books of her memories.

“The last book I keep for myself,” Sunset declared. “It has no magic in it, only… secrets that are mine alone.”

Dawn was silent, considering. “Very well,” she said. “Give me your magic; your thoughts remain your own.”

“Thank you,” Sunset whispered. “You are more generous than I expected.”

“I’m not the bad guy, Sunset,” Dawn declared. “I’m just doing what I must, to protect my home.”

“Here you go,” Sunset whispered, taking the books up gently in her hands and standing up to hold them out to Dawn. “Use them wisely.”

Dawn was silent as she, with care and reverence, reached out and plucked the books carefully from Sunset’s outstretched hands. Her eyes widened as she seemed to already feel the memories contained within.

Sunset bowed her head. “Is this the part where you kill me?”

Dawn was silent for a moment. “My Queen – the other you – thinks that you’re dangerous. After hearing what she had to say about you, I thought you were dangerous too.”

“I am dangerous, to everyone around me.”

“No,” Dawn said. “You’re powerful, but… I meant what I said. You’ve been through a lot. I can’t imagine… you’ve earned your rest. I don’t need to kill you, Sunset, not now. I’ll let my aura wash you away as it consumes this place. I’ll let you get comfortable with the end as it comes. And maybe… maybe some part of you will be left, to live on in me. That… doesn’t sound as I would have thought, not too long ago.”

“That… that’s very generous of you,” Sunset said.

“We’re not the bad guys, Sunset,” Dawn told her. “We’re just trying to protect our home and our people.” She paused. “Your friends will be fine,” she said. “Ruby will be fine, and Cinder-”

“I know,” Sunset murmured. “The fight will go on without me.”

Dawn nodded. “You can rest now, Sunset Shimmer. Your fight is over.”

She disappeared, vanishing into… Sunset didn’t know where. Back into some other part of Sunset’s mind.

Dawn’s mind now. Dawn’s mind, Dawn’s body. Soon to be Dawn’s soul.

It was better this way. It would be better this way.

Dawn had never done any of the things that Sunset had. Hadn’t made so many mistakes, hadn’t hurt so many people.

It was better this way.

That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

Ruby, Cinder, Jaune, Pyrrha… goodbye.

Sunset sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face.

Revelation

Revelation

Sunset Shimmer, Sun Queen of Freeport, was in her library.

Strictly speaking, it was not her library, at least not in the sense that she had collected or curated it. It was hers in the sense that it was lodged in the bowels of her tower, in the heart of her city, which meant that she had a better claim upon it than anyone else.

Possession was nine tenths of the law, after all.

The library had been compiled, she guessed, by one of the Valish lords who had ruled this city – or the predecessor to this city – on behalf of the Kings of Vale in ancient days before the west was abandoned in the face of the grimm and the hazards of the wild. Certainly, the subject matter was Valish in the extreme, at least in part: the lineages of Valish families, the names and histories of their hereditary weapons, the deeds of their notable members. Sunset guessed that the families in question were those of the lord who had ruled over this city and his retainers; many of them had recorded not only the deeds of their ancestors but also of themselves, in first person and in detail. No doubt, they had meant for historians to come later to be able to study these accounts and thus ensure their place in history.

Instead, the records had been abandoned, left to moulder for long centuries as the castle they had ruled had crumbled away around them, until she came.

Sunset had ambiguous feelings about this place. There was a part of her that disliked coming down here into the bowels of the tower, where the documents had been preserved by the dry, acrid staleness of the air. The smell amidst the dark and gloomy stacks was musty and unpleasant. When she was down here too long, her skin began to dry up, and she felt as though she needed a wash. And the books… the books that the Valish lords had left concerning themselves and their deeds and the deeds of the families were unpleasant to her eyes. They taught her a lesson that she did not wish to learn: that one day, all her deeds could be forgotten, just as the actions that these lords and knights of Vale had striven to preserve.

They had thought to preserve their place in historical record. They had thought to make themselves into legends. They had thought to attain a sort of immortality. But who in Vale remembered their names, these men who had striven so hard in the service of Vale?

It was an uncomfortable thought: that, although she was a queen, that which she was queen of could be forgotten and her memory would fade. Not just fade but… disappear, completely. As completely as her other self had disappeared when she used the memory stone upon the other Sunset’s companions.

As completely as Dawn Starfall would have to disappear from the memories of all her subjects in order to explain her transfer into a new body.

As completely as Sunset Shimmer had disappeared from Atlas when she had used the memory stone to erase herself.

The memory stone was a rare power, a gift from Equestria – the first of many such gifts, she hoped – but it only served to speed up what history did all by itself: the erasure of memory that made great deeds and mighty kingdoms meaningless since there was no one left to recall them.

Such might be her fate, even with the best intentions and the greatest of good fortune, but it would definitely be her fate if she defied the power of Salem. All of it gone. All of it destroyed. Freeport laid waste, the tribes slaughtered, all the good work that she had tried to do here cut off and turned to ashes.

Here in her hands, she held an ancient sheaf of parchment on which was drawn an image of a sword, a sword bearing – according to the words written beside the image – the name Crocea Mors; it had been wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland, fourth son of King Edward Farstrider, who was in turn the son of Charles the Great, who had begun to unite the Kingdom of Vale which his son would finish. This Jaune of Gaunt had been trained in arms by Olivia… who was Olivia? The name was stated baldly, with no indication of who she was; it was as if the readers of the future were expected to simply know the name.

They were expected to simply know the name; there was no doubt about it. In the days when this account – listing all of those who had wielded the sword and what deeds they had done – had been penned, no doubt everyone, or at least everyone who mattered, had known exactly who Olivia was. No doubt, she had been some great woman in the distant past of Vale.

But who remembered her now?

Who would remember Sunset Shimmer, if she failed at this great trial?

She shuddered. She would not fail. She would not falter. She would preserve this city, this kingdom; she would defend it and all who dwelled within it. She would make any sacrifice, any compromise with conscience and morality, in pursuit of that goal.

She would not fade away. She would not allow Freeport to fade away.

Sunset didn’t like this place, but she had come down here precisely because she wanted – needed – to feel uncomfortable. She needed to be reminded of how fragile things were, of how success could not be guaranteed, of how the maintenance of a nation that would survive the tides of history was not easy. These Valish lords, with their ancient weapons and their long family histories, had proved unequal to the challenge of building something out here in the wilderness. Sunset Shimmer didn’t intend to make the same mistake.

Whatever I have to do. Whatever it takes.

She heard footsteps on the wooden steps descending down into the library. It was Laurel, whose shadow briefly struck the wall before she passed out of the light from above and into the gloom of the library.

“You’re here,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you liked this place.”

“I don’t,” Sunset confirmed, “but there are times when this is where I need to be.”

“I see,” Laurel said, in a tone that suggested that she didn’t really see. “I… I don’t suppose that the wisdom of the ancients has offered up a solution to our predicament?”

“'Predicament'?” Sunset repeated.

“Don’t play games, Sunset; you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?” Sunset asked. “Enlighten me, please, I’m not entirely certain that we have a predicament.”

Laurel sighed, shaking her head softly back and forth. “You’ve always had the most amazing ability to seem like nothing gets to you,” she said. “Even before you started wearing a mask, you could always keep your face well hidden when you wanted to. You always seemed so cool and calm, even when everything was going wrong around us.” She paused. “Do you remember that mission, when we were tasked with escorting a supply convoy to Park Place, only for the convoy to get ambushed by brigands?”

Sunset snorted. “I remember the way they had us pinned down.”

“They had us pinned down,” Laurel corrected her. “Me, Dawny, and Cherry were all scrambling for cover as the bullets flew around us, but you… you stood there, back straight, illuminated by the fires from the burning truck, looking as proud as a queen as you returned fire with a look of… disdain. That’s the best way that I can describe it, Sunset, disdain. You disdained to cower, you disdained our enemy, you disdained the very notion of danger. And somehow, by some miracle, you didn’t get hit once. All of those scum were firing at you, and none of them hit you. I even checked my scroll once or twice, and your aura didn’t go down by one bit. You were as proud as a queen that day; you were magnificent. That was when I knew… I knew that you were someone I could follow. Not just a team leader but someone I could follow all my life. Someone I could call my queen, and gladly so.” She hesitated for a moment. “Were you scared that day?”

“I was terrified,” Sunset admitted. “I just… refused to show it. To you, to them.” That was what irked her the most about Salem’s emissary, this Tyrian creature: he had made her show fear; he had broken through an armour that she relied on every bit as much as her semblance. He had scared her, and he knew that he had scared her.

“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Laurel said. “It was very inspiring on that day, I won’t deny it, but you can admit it: to me, to Dawny, to Cherry. You can tell us the truth. You don’t need to pretend.”

“What makes you think I’m pretending, Laurel?”

“The fact that you’re denying that we’re in a bit of a pickle right now?” Laurel suggested. “Are you… are you really going to hand that girl over to… that thing?”

Sunset put the history of Crocea Mors back on the shelf where she had got it from. “We don’t have a choice.”

Laurel’s thin brows pinched together to hear that. “I’m… not entirely sure that’s true,” she whispered.

“What should we do instead, Laurel?” Sunset demanded. “Defy him? Go to war for the sake of one girl?”

“I didn’t say that I had any easy answers,” Laurel said. “That’s why it’s called a predicament.”

“The choice before us is not an easy one, you’re right,” Sunset agreed, “but it is obvious.”

“You welcomed her into our community barely hours ago,” Laurel pointed out.

“I know,” Sunset murmured. “But… this is me admitting that I’m scared, Laurel. This is me without my armour on. I’m not standing up in the midst of the bullets here; I’m telling you that I don’t think we can win this.”

“The other Sunset’s magic-”

“Might not be enough; we won’t know until Dawn wakes up, if then,” Sunset interrupted. “Has Dawn woken up?”

Laurel shook her head. “Not yet.”

Sunset walked towards her old friend. “What would you have me do, Laurel? What other choice would you have me make?”

Laurel was silent for a moment. “What is the point of this kingdom if we won’t fight to defend those who join this kingdom voluntarily?”

“What is the point of this kingdom if we lay it on the altar to save one girl who just got here?” Sunset replied.

“I… I don’t know,” Laurel admitted. “But… it might be the sensible choice, but that doesn’t make it easy to swallow.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “It’s not easy. Not easy at all. Not for me, not for you.” She placed a hand on Cherry’s shoulder. “You know what would be easy? To fight. It would be stirring, it would be grand, it would be inspiring to tell that madman upstairs to go screw himself, to come with all his grimm and have a go if he thinks he can. It would be easy to unveil our standard on the walls, to muster all our Rangers and all the warriors of the clans to arms. It would be so, so easy… and it would end with all of us dead, and all the children too. Is that what you want?”

Laurel looked away. “Of course not.”

“There is no other way, Laurel,” Sunset insisted. “Don’t you think that I would take it if there were? Don’t you think that I would do anything to avoid having to break faith with Sunsprite and her grandfather, don’t you think that I’d rather just refuse to soil my hands with treachery? But this isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t one of those stories where love and courage triumph, and we aren’t going to hold off the grimm by proclaiming our faith in one another and the power of friendship. The real world, the world that we have to live in, doesn’t work that way. This is our only choice.”

Laurel nodded, although it was a nod rendered slightly limp and clearly reluctant. “I understand, I just-”

“Don’t like it, I know,” Sunset acknowledged. “I don’t like it either, but… this is what it means to rule: we must sometimes make sacrifices, and sometimes, those sacrifices are pieces of our own souls.”

Laurel nodded again, a little surer now. “They… they’re waiting for you, upstairs. I’ve just come from them.”

“And Cherry is watching Tyrian and his acolyte?”

“Yes, with a dozen men.”

“Send half a dozen more up there; better safe than sorry,” Sunset commanded. “Make sure they don’t go anywhere until all of this is taken care of.” She didn’t want them running around Freeport; most especially, she didn’t want them trying to take care of Ruby Rose themselves. Freeport would handle this, and in the handling, it would save itself.

She patted Laurel on the shoulder. “We are not doing the right thing,” she admitted, “but we are doing the sensible thing. Now, lead the way. Take me to them.”

As she followed Laurel out of the murky library, Sunset was very glad of the mask of gold that hid her face from view. It made her seem stronger, more inviolate.

It hid the displeasure that she felt in what she had to do.

The book was glowing.

Cinder… was having another of the gaps in her memory when it came to that book. She knew what it was, thankfully: it was a magical journal, a conduit to a world named Equestria, where a unicorn named Starlight Glimmer – who had also turned away from a life of villainy, and Cinder could only hope that Starlight still remembered the reasons why that was – had given her some wise counsel.

But she couldn’t remember where the book had come from, how it had come to end up in her possession. She knew what it was, but she couldn’t remember how she had come to know what it was.

It was all rather disturbing. So many things that she couldn’t remember. So many things that she couldn’t remember not remembering as though they had simply been ripped from her memory overnight.

And now, the book was glowing. The brown leather cover, with the two-toned sun of red and gold upon it, was surrounded by a lavender light.

Cinder wasn’t sure what to do with it. For whatever it is worth, her faculties being in decline as they were, she couldn’t remember seeing it glow before.

But still, with the way that it was not only glowing but vibrating, she couldn’t very well ignore it.

If nothing else, talking – in a sense – with Starlight Glimmer might take her mind off brooding about the massive amounts of memory that she had lost.

Cinder sat down, and opened up the book.

I’m sorry if I’m bothering you again, but as it’s a lot later in the night – it’s early morning now, I’ve probably woken you up, in fact, I should probably be asleep myself, it’s just that I’m struggling to sleep right now with everything going on, and I’m rambling, I’m sorry. What I wanted to ask was, how did dinner go?

Cinder stared at the words that had appeared on the page, not sure what to make of them. She knew some of what they were referring to, like the fact that there was a portal linking Remnant and Equestria, and that a pony – name as yet unknown – had fallen though it into Remnant; that must be why Twilight was losing sleep, although Cinder wasn’t aware that it had been troubling her so badly the last time that they had… the last time that they had spoken, the only time that they had spoken, had been before they had encountered the Sun Queen and learnt of the portal so then… how did Twilight know about it?

How did Cinder know about it? Who had told her? She didn’t remember that either. She didn’t remember that, and she didn’t remember telling Twilight about it either. How much was she forgetting? What was happening to her mind? What was happening to her?

Cinder found that her breathing was becoming heavier as picked up a pen and began to scratch upon the page. Twilight Sparkle, the questions that I am about to ask you may seem strange, but I wish you to answer honestly regardless.

There was a pause before any response came from Twilight: Cinder?

Yes. Were you expecting someone else?

Well, Sunset is usually the one who writes back.

Cinder frowned. And my first question is: who’s Sunset?

There was another pause, even longer than the first. I’m afraid I don’t really understand the question.

Don’t you? I find it a very simple one.

Are you asking for my opinion, because asking how I feel about your friend

I’m not asking for your opinion, I want to know who you’re talking about!

But you know who I’m talking about, I’m talking about Sunset Shimmer.

And who is that? Do I know her? Should I remember her? I don’t understand, and I feel as though I’m losing my mind.

The pauses seemed to get longer every time that Twilight had to stop to think of something to say.

In the end, it wasn’t Twilight who replied. It was Starlight, Cinder recognised the very decided change in writing styles. Hey, Cinder. It’s Starlight here, remember me?

Cinder’s lips twitched in spite of the situation. Yes, I do remember you, although you were right to check first. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Starlight.

Is it something that you want to talk about? So far, you’ve just kind of implied that something is wrong.

After you turned good, did you ever suffer from memory loss? Did parts of your life stop making sense to you?

Those are two different questions. I remember everything that I did, even if I couldn’t always, with hindsight, explain to you why I did it.

Do you remember why you turned away from evil? I’m not asking you to tell me, I just want to know that you know.

Yes. I remember.

I don’t. I don’t remember what I’m doing here. I don’t remember why I fought alongside Pyrrha in the vault beneath the school. I don’t remember what brought me here to Freeport. I don’t remember. It feels like holes have been gouged in my memory.

And you don’t remember Sunset Shimmer?

You and Twilight keep using that name as though I ought to know it.

Because you should. She’s the reason why you turned away from darkness, she’s the reason you’re in Freeport, she’s the reason you fought alongside Pyrrha. She’s the reason for everything. How can you not remember her?

How should I know? I don’t remember!

Yeah, of course. Sorry about that. It’s just hard to get my head around, you know. She was the person you were closest to, and now you don’t remember anything?

No, nothing.

How is it that she isn’t jumping up and down demanding that you know her? Is there a girl with red and gold hair anywhere near where you are? Have you seen her? She would be a, what’s the word that you use, when people have animal traits

A faunus?

Yes, a faunus, she would be a pony faunus with a tail and ears. Have you seen her?

No, I haven’t see anyone like that. She sounds quite striking. I’d like to think I’d remember her.

Obviously not, since that’s Sunset Shimmer. Cinder, I haven’t spoken to Twilight about this to confirm it yet, but I think you may be in danger.

I was afraid you’d say that, but I can’t argue that you’re wrong.

If it was just a matter of you being made to forget Sunset, that would be one thing, but the fact that she’s not anywhere around. I don’t believe that she would abandon you, which means

That someone important to me is being held against her will. Thank you, Starlight, you’ve made so many things very clear to me.

I have?

Yes. For the first time in a while, I know what I need to do.

Which is?

I’m going to be Cinder Fall, obviously.

Cinder shut the book. Her mind felt clearer now. The holes in her memory remained, to the extent that it seemed more holes than not, but nevertheless, though she did not remember, she felt as though she understood. Someone called Sunset Shimmer had saved her. Someone called Sunset Shimmer had led her out of darkness and into the light. And then someone had kidnapped her – or killed her, perhaps – and ripped the memories of her out of the mind of Cinder, and of her companions too; it was the only explanation as to why none of them had the answers that Starlight had possessed.

Whoever did this – and I’ve got a pretty good idea as to who it was – they didn’t erase the memories of those in Equestria, either because they didn’t know about them or because they can’t. Starlight and Twilight are in another world, after all; a semblance can only stretch so far.

Cinder didn’t remember Sunset Shimmer, not one bit, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the reason that Cinder was here, and now, she needed Cinder.

Cinder had felt off for some time now. She had felt out of sorts, out of place; that, she remembered perfectly well. She had been uncertain of her course, of her place in the world, of her purpose. She had turned her back upon the destiny that she had chosen, the power that she had sought after, and found herself asking what was next.

She had found herself asking who she was.

Now, she had an answer of sorts.

She was Cinder Fall, the baddest of bitches, and she was going to show these clowns what a folly it was to trespass against her.

Cinder stalked out of her room, leaving the magical journal behind as she ventured up one level to where Roman Torchwick was quartered.

She pounded upon his door.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I hear ya,” Roman grumbled as he slid open the door. “Cinder? What time is it?”

“Do you trust me, Roman?” Cinder asked.

Roman blinked, bleary eyed. “Cinder, what the hell is-?”

“Do you trust me?” Cinder demanded.

“Sheesh, calm down,” Roman muttered, raising one hand. “I… no, I don’t trust you, and I never did. Sorry.” He shrugged. “You still scare the crap out of me a little, if that helps.”

“And you still combine honesty with a genius for self-preservation,” Cinder declared. “That’s why I knew that I could always count on you, even if you are as slippery a weasel as ever drew breath.”

Roman tipped an imaginary hat. “Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Our good hosts are not to be trusted. If I’m not back in our hour, I want you to get everyone – especially Ruby – out of the city by any means necessary.”

Roman frowned. “You’re not making a whole lot of sense here-”

“Aren’t I?” Cinder said. “Do you find it impossible to believe that the people here have ill intentions towards us?”

Roman was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “Not for a second.”

“Then do as I say,” Cinder said. “Do as I… ask.”

“And then what?” Roman demanded. “Once we’re out, what then?”

“That will be for Cardin and Ruby to decide.”

“Why don’t you just tell them to get us all out?”

“Because you’re the one who always survives,” Cinder replied. “You’re the one… that I trust.”

Roman was silent. It seemed, from the blank look on his face and the widening of his eyes that he tried to conceal, that he didn’t know how to respond to that. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me; if I’m not back, I’ll most likely be dead,” Cinder said. She turned away. “Good luck, Roman. Keep them safe.”

“Where are you going?” Roman called after her as she walked away.

“I’ve got some hunting to do.”

“Thank you both for joining us,” Sunset said as she walked into the throne room, having exchanged places with Laurel so that she entered first, and her companion after. Despite the lateness of the hour – or the earliness of the morning now; the light of dawn was beginning to creep in through the windows – her guards, the ones with spears and the ones with guns, still maintained their positions along the walls and at the back of the room.

Laurel stood beside her as Sunset settled herself upon her throne, smoothing out the folds of her royal robes, and through the slits in her mask, studied the two in front of her.

Sunsprite Rose knelt in the centre of the throne room, head bowed, her yellow cloak pooling a little on the floor behind her.

Ember of the Summer Fire Clan did not bow; though she had acknowledged the authority of the Sun Queen, she did not forget that she herself was the lord of a fell people, the mistress of a clan, a font of power and authority in her own right. Sunset did not insist upon genuflection; it would have cost her more than she would have gained by it to have humiliated one of her vassals thus.

Perhaps, when Ember died, her successor could be persuaded to bend the knee, being in a weak and unsure position as they would be, but that was for the future.

Who knew, Sunset might predecease Ember, though she hoped not.

She had yet to make any arrangements for her succession; that was something that she would have to do if she wished for Freeport to survive and thrive, if she wished for her own rule to be less transient than all those forgotten lords whose deeds were recorded in the archives below.

But all of that was a long way off now, if fate was kind to her; what mattered now was the immediate threat to her kingdom and her rule: Tyrian Callows and the need to appease him with a blood offering.

“Thank you both for coming at such an inconvenient hour,” Sunset said, adopting the royal voice, which had a slightly deeper timbre than she was ordinarily wont to use. It was one of the ways in which she kept the identities of the Sun Queen and Vesper Radiance separate. “I apologise if I woke you.”

“I am your loyal servant, my Queen,” Sunsprite declared. “You may summon me at any time, night or day.”

“Speaking for myself, I thought that it might be important for you to ask me to come over here at a time like this,” Ember said. “It makes me curious… and a little nervous.”

“I fear that you are right to be nervous, Lady Ember,” Sunset replied, “for I must tell you both that Freeport – and all who shelter within its walls – stand in grave peril.”

“In peril?” Ember repeated. “What’s going on? Are the grimm close by? Then why are you only telling us this and not the chiefs of the other clans? You need to sound the alarm and-”

“Peace!” Sunset said sharply, raising one hand to stay the flow of words from out of her mouth. “Peace,” she repeated, more calmly now, as she saw the scowl on Ember’s face. “If an attack were so imminent, then all would be done, as you say, to defend the city. However, we have a chance to avert an assault upon our defences, to defeat the grimm, as it were, without giving battle.”

Ember frowned. “Is this… do you mean the same way that the grimm were defeated at King’s Camp, when the Frost Mountain Clan were saved by a miracle?”

“Miraculous indeed,” Sunsprite said. “I was there, and yet I cannot recall how we were saved.”

“One cannot always count on miracles, not even when one is in direst need,” Sunset said quickly. “Rather, it is a darker means of salvation upon which we must depend now. Ember, you travelled with Ruby Rose and her companions for a little while upon the road to Freeport; did they tell you aught of the true nature of this threat we face?”

“No,” Ember replied. “What true threat?”

“Is the eye of Salem turned towards us?” Sunsprite said, a shiver in her voice.

“It is even so,” Sunset answered, her tone solemn and touched by melancholy. “A messenger has come from her this very night.”

“A messenger from who?” Ember demanded. “Who is Salem, what has she to do with the grimm, and what business has she in our land?”

“Salem is the mistress of the grimm,” Sunset said flatly. “It seems they are not the mere horde of savage beasts we have believed these many years.”

Ember’s mouth hung open. “The grimm… the grimm have a mistress?”

“A queen, one might say,” Sunset said, “and she has found our hidden kingdom. Fortunately, she is not bent upon our destruction. Her envoy has guaranteed that we will be left in peace, provided…”

“My Queen?” Sunsprite asked.

“The fact that you’re so reluctant to say it makes me think we’re not going to like this,” Ember muttered.

“I am sorry, Sunsprite,” Sunset said, “but Ruby’s life is the price of our salvation.”

Sunsprite’s head snapped up; her one remaining silver eye was wide with shock. “No!”

“It is greatly to be regretted,” Sunset admitted, “but-”

“Please, my Queen!” Sunsprite cried. “She is my cousin! She is my grandfather’s granddaughter, not merely as I am but the last fruit of Summer Rose, the daughter he loved best. This… this will break his heart. It will kill him.”

“Need he know?” Sunset asked. “Tell him that she changed her mind and crossed the sea to complete her mission and have many adventures there.”

Sunsprite stared at her, her silver eye shining. “You would have me lie to my grandfather.”

“Some lies are love,” Sunset declared, “especially when one lies to an old, sick man who has not long to live. Let him die believing the best… until he may see his beloved granddaughter again.”

Sunsprite’s head descended, her gaze falling to the floor. “I could lie to my grandfather, my Queen, but I cannot lie to myself. I would know the truth, and the truth… she is a sweet girl, and brave, the very model of a Silver-Eyed Warrior. She has the magic-”

“Magic which she cannot use at will,” Sunset reminded her. “We cannot depend on it for our defence, not in this dark hour.”

“She is kin to me!” Sunsprite cried.

“Which is why I have summoned you here, to break this ill news to you in person,” Sunset said. “I take no joy in this. Had I another way, I would take it, but… I see none.”

“She is your guest,” Ember declared. “You have taken her under your protection. That is not something that you can withdraw the moment it becomes inconvenient.”

“What would you have me do?” Sunset demanded. “This is not a battle we can win.”

“How can you know that when the enemy is not even on the field?” Ember asked.

“I will not risk the safety of my kingdom for a single child!” Sunset yelled, rising to her feet and striding to the edge of the dais. She took a deep breath. “I have felt the strength of our enemy. I have… felt their touch upon their skin. Vale, our sister kingdom beyond the mountains, was ravaged by this power, though it was well entrenched and ancient, though the might of Atlas and the valour of Mistral joined in its defence, and what have we compared to that? The strength of clans that came here fleeing before the grimm? My Rangers? And even if we could prevail, at what cost? How many must die for Ruby Rose? Would you really allow your clan to suffer for the sake of one person?”

“If the clan does not protect all who are a part of the clan, then the clan is nothing,” Ember replied. “If an envoy of our enemy demanded Smolder’s life, then all the spears of Summer Fire would be levelled to protect her-”

“Even though they knew the Summer Fire would be snuffed out in consequence?”

“Even then,” Ember declared. “That is what it means to be a clan, bonded in blood.”

Sunset snorted. “All for one and one for all,” she murmured. “A noble sentiment, but a foolish one. And besides, Ruby Rose is not a part of your clan.”

“She is my kin,” Sunsprite said.

“I ask you to be more sensible than Ember,” Sunset said as she descended from the dais and stood over Sunsprite, casting a shadow over her silver-eyed warrior. She knelt before her, putting the two of them at a height, and reached out to tilt up Sunsprite’s chin so that her most skilled captain looked on her. “I ask you to put the good of our city over your own heart. Answer me this, Sunsprite Rose, is what we are building here not worthwhile?”

Sunsprite was silent for a moment. She whispered something so softly that Sunset could not hear it.

“Speak up,” Sunset urged.

“It is, my Queen,” Sunsprite murmured.

“Why?” Sunset asked. “Why is it worthwhile?”

Sunsprite shivered. “You… you are making safe the land.”

“Yes!” Sunset cried. “Yes, I am. That is what consumes my every thought, that is what drives my every action; my mind is bent upon security. For you, for the Summer Fire Clan, for all the clans, for Freeport and all who dwell here. I hope you do not think so ill of me that I would propose this course if our safety did not prompt me to it.”

“Of course not, my Queen.”

“Then look beyond your love for your family and answer me this,” Sunset said. “Is it right that many should suffer for the sake of one, or a few?”

Sunsprite did not reply.

“I must have your answer,” Sunset insisted.

Sunsprite closed her eyes. “No,” she whispered.

“No,” Sunset repeated. “No, it is not. And that being so, you know what must be done, don’t you?”

Sunspirte nodded, though her expression was twisted with pain.

Sunset put both hands upon Sunsprite’s face, squeezing her cheeks. “Thank you, Sunsprite,” she said. “Your loyalty is constant as the north star, a fact which comforts me more than you can know.”

“Why am I here?” Ember demanded. “You didn’t need to tell me this, and you did not summon me to ask my counsel.”

Sunset rose to her feet. “I asked you here because I need your help. Ruby’s companions need not die, but I fear that they may cause difficulties to… they may try to enlist the aid of the Frost Mountain Clan.”

Ember’s eyes narrowed. “I will not fight against Frost Mountain.”

“Nor do I ask you to,” Sunset added quickly. “I hope that merely the threat of your strength, aligned with mine, will make Prince Rutherford think twice before he does anything hasty; combined, perhaps, with some words of wisdom from you.”

“Speak to him yourself; I don’t like this one bit,” Ember muttered.

“But you understand, don’t you?” Sunset asked. “Why it must be done?”

Ember’s response was stolen away, drowned out by the sudden swell of loud noise echoing up from below.

The sound of gunfire.

Necessary Sacrifice

Necessary Sacrifice

Cinder leapt from rooftop to rooftop, bounding over the tiles and wood of Freeport on her way towards the Tower of the Sun.

The sun was rising now, though Cinder paid it little heed except to curse the fact that night’s embrace had not endured for longer and covered her with its dark shroud. But, as much as she might have wished for the cover of darkness, she would not stop for dawn’s early light; the sun would not halt her progress. There were few enough eyes about the town at this hour to see her, even if the light that stole upon the streets did make her a little more visible.

She would take the risk. She risked much more than this already, and there came a point at which detection was all but certain, so why be afraid of it?

There were so many other things in Freeport to be afraid of.

Not that Cinder was afraid. No, she would not claim to be fearless; she might have, in times past, but that had always been more bluster than honesty, and such talk… she no longer saw the need for it. She had forgotten the need for it, although she had also forgotten why she had forgotten the need. Perhaps Sunset Shimmer had something to do with it, and the memories had been stolen from her.

In any case, Cinder would not claim that she felt no fear, as she was to about mount a single-handed assault against the Sun Queen’s fortress – and to do so, what was more, without either an ample supply of dust or half a maiden’s power to fall back on. But it was not the dominant emotion burning in her breast; she would not shrink from fear because the fear she felt, the chill of dread around her heart, was buried beneath the inferno of wrath that blazed in her breast.

She knew this anger well. It was an old, familiar companion to her, and right now, it was very welcome. This was the anger that had murdered her stepmother and stepsisters, this was the anger that had driven her across the wilds of Mistral with no one to rely on but herself, this was the anger that had allowed her to triumph over adversity time and again.

This anger had kept her alive, and it would do so again now.

Because she was very, very angry. The Sun Queen had stolen her memories, violated the sanctity of her mind, left her fragile sense of self in tatters… and she had done so in order to make Cinder forget someone precious to her, someone to whom she apparently owed much, perhaps everything.

The Sun Queen had made a grave mistake giving Cinder so much cause for enmity, as she would shortly discover, to her grave cost. She had ripped away at Cinder’s mind, and in so doing, she had revealed what had been there before all the changes that Cinder no longer remembered.

She was about to face Cinder Fall in all her glory, and she had no one to blame but herself.

It was true that Cinder was no longer the Fall Maiden – something else for which she had Sunset to thank – but she had not been Maiden when she had faced Amber, and by the time the dust settled, the Fall Maiden had been helpless and at Cinder’s mercy.

She would fight her way through this great tower, she would strike down anyone who got in her way, and then, she would promise to spare the Queen’s life in exchange for the return of Sunset Shimmer and Cinder’s memories.

And then she would kill the Queen, as she had killed Merlot despite her promise, because some things were beyond her capacity for forgiveness.

Some things demanded bloody retribution.

Cinder’s face was set in a snarl, her visage a mask of wrath more terrible than any grimm’s bleached and bony skull, as she bounded from rooftop to rooftop until, at last, she stood upon the roof of an inn just beyond the half-ruined walls that encompassed the tower.

Two guards upon the door. More inside, no doubt. No matter; she had seen these Rangers fight at King’s Camp, and they were nothing special. In a wild land filled with barbarians, even a modest fighting force could make an outsized impact – the third-rate can seem first-rate when up against fifth-rate opposition – but she was Cinder Fall. Even without the powers of the Fall Maiden, she was still Cinder Fall, and they would scatter like leaves before her.

Cinder knelt down upon the rooftop; they had not seen her. Sloppy, they were hardly paying any attention at all. Did they imagine themselves safe? Was the Queen’s rule so secure that here, in her own city, she felt no dread of any enemy? Perhaps, but that overconfidence would be her downfall. That, and her presumption that she could so cavalierly deal with Cinder thus.

If you wished to harm me, then you should have killed me, for being injured but alive, I will revenge myself.

Cinder held out one hand. Shards of glass twisted in the air, swirling around an invisible centre, glowing white hot as they fused together to form a bow of black glass. It was momentarily warm, like a burning fire dust crystal pressed against her palm, heat that warmed her but from which she took no harm. The heat soon died, the moment of fire soon passed, but Cinder relished it regardless. As she had been, as Salem had made her, she would not have felt such heat. There had been nothing but cold, and the feeling of the grimm essence slowly devouring her.

Now she was human again, able to taste, able to touch, able to burn if she willed it so, for all that her semblance would protect her.

It seemed that she owed Sunset Shimmer that. A debt she might repay this morning.

If you are dead, then I will avenge you; if you are alive, then I will rescue you… and find out who you are to me when my memories are restored.

A glass arrow formed in Cinder’s hand, nocked to the string of her bow. Cinder drew back, her breathing steady.

She relaxed the string without loosing the arrow, releasing the tension built up in the bow even as she kept the shaft in hand. She relaxed because she had sensed someone coming, her aura and the enhanced senses it provided warning her of the approach of someone from behind. Cinder retreated into the lee of the roof, concealing herself from the view of the sentries at the tower doors even as she turned around to see who approached her.

It was Ruby, travelling in a cloud of rose petals so dense that Cinder had lost all sight of Ruby herself, or perhaps Ruby was the petal cloud; it might be so – semblances did evolve, after all, and Cinder had seen her do much the same at King’s Camp. In any case, the petal cloud dispersed, the petals vanishing into the ether, and Ruby stood upon the rooftop, crouched down, silver eyes boring into Cinder’s gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Cinder replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you, obviously,” Ruby said. “I saw you leave, and then you started jumping over rooftops, and why? Why would you travel like that, and why do you have your weapon?”

“I’m a warrior; why would I be without my weapons?” Cinder demanded, noting without saying that Ruby had Crescent Rose strapped across her back.

Ruby scowled. “You know what I’m talking about; what are you doing?”

“You need to go,” Cinder insisted. “Go back to the Tower of the Moon, rouse your father, and wait until either I return or Torchwick takes command.”

“Torchwick?” Ruby hissed. “Why would Torchwick take command? What about Cardin?”

“Has Cardin led this company from Vale?” Cinder demanded. “Have I?”

Ruby blinked rapidly. “I… you, more than Cardin,” she admitted. “But… that doesn’t feel right either. Why would you be our leader? Shouldn’t I…?” She shook her head vigorously. “What does any of this have to do with you being on the roof with a bow? What are you up to?”

“Go back,” Cinder snapped. “Go back and leave me to my work.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing,” Ruby declared. One hand began to reach towards Crescent Rose.

“I am not your enemy, Ruby,” Cinder insisted. “I have not been your enemy these months past.” She hesitated. “If… if you would look for enemies, then look towards the tower yonder. Does the name Sunset Shimmer mean anything to you?”

“No,” Ruby said. “Should it?”

“According to Princess Twilight Sparkle, yes,” Cinder replied. “Who led Team Sapphire?”

“Jaune,” Ruby said instantly. “No, Pyrrha.”

“Then why was it named Team Sapphire?” Cinder demanded. “Why not Team Apricot, or Team Pear? Who was your fourth member?”

“We didn’t have one,” Ruby said. “We… I guess we must have been strong enough that we didn’t need a fourth teammate.”

“Not according to Twilight Sparkle,” Cinder said. “For that matter, how did we even learn of Princess Twilight and Equestria?”

“The book.”

“How did we come by it?”

“I… why are you asking me these questions, and what does it have to do with you about to attack our friends?”

“Because someone has stolen our memories of a pony named Sunset Shimmer; that is why I can’t remember what I’m doing here or why I no longer serve evil,” Cinder declared. “My memories have been violated, all our memories have been violated, and the companion that we have forgotten has been held or killed or both.”

“How is that even possible?” Ruby demanded.

“Equestrian magic?” Cinder suggested. “Or else a semblance, perhaps. I do not know the answer yet. Rest assured I will wrench the truth from the throat of this Sun Queen before the end.”

“No!” Ruby gasped. “No, you can’t just storm in there because you think they’ve done something wrong, because you have a few memories missing.”

“Twilight has told me what memories I am missing, and I trust the Equestrian princess a sight more than I trust the Sun Queen.”

“Let me go down there,” Ruby said. “Let me to talk to Sunsprite-”

“I do not trust your cousin, for all her pious cant,” Cinder snapped. “I am sorry, Ruby, but these people are not our friends. They have done us wrong.”

“You think they have, and because you think so, you’re going to attack them?” Ruby demanded.

“Yes!” Cinder snarled. “They will have their lives at my hand, and they will bring that end upon themselves! I have asked myself who I am, since leaving Salem’s service. I have wondered what I could be when I was not a finger upon the hand of my mistress. I do not know whether I was finding my way to answer that question, but I do know that they have torn away at my mind, ripped to shreds my sense of self, and left the threads of who I am fluttering like ribbons in a storm. Very well. I grasp the strongest thread that remains to me, and since I cannot prove to be aught else, let me prove such a villain that their hearts tremble before my wrath! I am Cinder Fall, and I shall pay in blood all those who trespass against me.” She breathed in between clenched teeth, her chest rising and falling. “Go back to the tower, Ruby,” she urged. “Go back and let me take this sin upon my shoulders.”

Ruby’s hand hovered in place, not touching Crescent Rose but not far from it, either. “I can’t let you do that,” she said. “I can’t just let you start a fight based on what Princess Twilight said and the fact that you don’t feel yourself right now.”

Honestly, I feel more myself than I have done for quite some time. “And I won’t let you stop me, Ruby Rose,” she said solemnly. “My memories are there, and I’m going to take them back.”

The two stared into each other’s eyes. Neither said another word.

At this point, there were no more words left to be said.

Ruby reached for Crescent Rose, but Cinder was quicker off the mark, catching Ruby across the jaw with a spinning kick that sent her flying, knocking the girl in the red cloak off the rooftop and set her crashing down into the street below, forming a crater as the earth buckled beneath her.

That won’t hold her for long, Cinder thought. I need to move quickly.

She still had her bow in her hands, still had the arrow nocked; she drew back quickly as she emerged into view of the guards upon the door and let fly.

The glass arrow flew swift and straight and true, burying itself in the throat of one of the guards.

Cinder leapt, and as she leapt, she nocked another arrow, drew back, let fly. The remaining guard was struck in the chest as he tried to raise the alarm. He fell back, slumping down the tower wall, his gun falling from his hands to clatter on the ground.

Not that it would have mattered if he had managed to raise the alarm; Cinder had no intention of being stealthy.

She had loosed again before she hit ground, burying two glass shafts in the wooden door, both of them near the lock. As Cinder began to spring across the open ground towards the door, she dashed through the ruined curtain wall; the arrows heated up, hotter and hotter, until smoke began to rise from the wooden doorframe.

The arrows exploded, taking with them the lock on the door and a good chunk of the wood and the surrounding stone as well. Cinder forced herself to run even faster, her legs pounding upon the stone, and as she ran, a savage grin appeared upon her face.

Yes, she was angry; yes, she had been done wrong; yes, she would avenge that wrong in blood, but at the same time, she had missed this. All the uncertainty, all the doubt, it was all behind her now. She knew who she was now, and though she was as black as filth and twice as wretched, at least she knew. The ground felt solid beneath her feet once more.

It was a mistake, My Queen, to make an enemy of me.

Cinder kicked down the charred and blackened door and strode inside, still wearing that grim smile upon her face. A guard rushed down the staircase; Cinder shot him before he could finish crying out. Another emerged from the door to the side, and Cinder shot him too. A young woman with a rifle stood in that same doorway and fired; Cinder couldn’t just stop bullets any more, but she deflected the round with her bow before splitting it into two scimitars with which she charged, closing the distance between her and her adversary, burying one sword in the woman’s gut. Either these people had no auras or else they were so fragile that but a single hit was sufficient to break them.

Cinder turned swords whirling through the air to parry a blast from Crescent Rose. Ruby stood in the doorway, her crimson scythe unfurled, barrel pointed at Cinder.

“Cinder, stop!” Ruby commanded. “This ends now!”

Blood stained the glass of Cinder’s blades. “This has only just begun,” Cinder replied. “You’ll understand when I’ve done what I have to do.”

Ruby scowled. “I should never have trusted you.”

Cinder didn’t reply. Ruby’s words bounced off her aura with little effect; if Ruby didn’t trust her now, then so what? She would believe when Cinder restored everyone’s memories; for now, it didn’t matter what she thought while under the influence of Freeport’s magic and her self-righteous cousin.

She would see that Cinder had been right all along; for now, all that mattered was that she not get in Cinder’s way.

Cinder lunged for her. Ruby fired once more, and once more, Cinder deflected the round away. Ruby charged to meet her, swinging Crescent Rose, or trying to; it was really too narrow for it here, and to be frank, Ruby was not the best at fighting people rather than grimm. Cinder got inside her guard and kicked her in the gut twice, knocking her to the ground and into the wall. Crescent Rose fell from her hands, and Cinder kicked it away.

“Stay down,” she said, “and stay out of my way.”

A Ranger with an antique submachine gun appeared at the top of the stairs; with a wordless yell, he opened fire – on Ruby.

Ruby squeaked in alarm as she dove for cover, rose petals trailing behind her as she sought to escape the bullets that sprayed across the room. “No! Wait, I’m trying to help!”

The Ranger with the machine gun didn’t believe her. Cinder wouldn’t have believed her either.

But she couldn’t let him actually hurt Ruby, so she buried a blade in his throat and threw his body down the stairs before she strutted up said stairs, bellowing for the queen to come out and answer for her crimes.

She felt… she felt ecstatic. It was wrong, but it felt so, so right at the same time. She felt like one of the heroes of the Mistraliad, divine by parentage and by mortal men exalted, raging amongst the ranks of lesser men in an aristeia to be sung of for generations yet to come. Men fell before like ears of corn before the reaper come harvest time; they came at her with rifles and submachine guns, with spears and swords and crossbows, and she withstood them all; she better than withstood them, she laid them low, every man and woman, every mother’s son and daughter, she painted the Tower of the Sun as red as the early morning light that fell upon Freeport even as she danced her way amongst its chambers. With blade and bow and her feet as swift as wind and deadly as the thunderbolt from heaven, she struck down all who opposed her. They came in waves; they tried to hold chokepoints, but they could not stay her. They could not even slow her down. She was Cinder Fall, and she was inexorable.

Ruby kept trying to stop her. Ruby pursued her, firing with Crescent Rose, trying to cry out to any who would listen that she was on their side, that she had nothing to do with Cinder, that she was a part of Freeport now.

They didn’t listen. They treated Ruby just as they treated Cinder, who often found herself both trying to protect Ruby from the Rangers of Freeport and defend herself from Ruby.

But it didn’t matter. She was better than Ruby in close quarters, much better, and she could take her on as easily as any of the rest of them.

Cinder was only worried what would happen when Ruby’s aura broke; she wasn’t trying to hurt Ruby, but even shoving her aside, kicking her away, all of that was bound to be taking its toll upon the other girl’s aura. When it broke, would she be sensible enough to back down? Would she be able to escape if she did wish to back down?

But what other choice did Cinder have? She had gone too far now, made her choice, just as Ruby had made hers; if she stopped fighting, then Ruby would kill her as surely as these Freeport guards; more surely, because for all her faults, she was better trained than they were, especially once she stopped trying to use her scythe and restricted herself to the carbine mode of her cumbersome weapon.

All she could do, as she raged throughout the Tower of the Sun, cutting down all who stood in her way, was hope that she could get everyone’s memories back before that happened.

Of course, as Ruby drew on her, the question was very present and not at all academic. How much aura did Ruby have left? How many free shots could Cinder give her before her own aura was threatened? They stood alone in a storage chamber halfway up the tower, littered with chests and barrels that Cinder had not looked inside; an oil lamp had fallen to the floor, starting a fire not far away from Cinder; it did not look likely to spread too far, or else Cinder hoped to be gone before it did.

Burning this place until a blasted shell was all that remained had a certain appeal, provided that Ruby didn’t find some way to die in the fire.

Ruby had Cinder dead to rights, her finger was on the trigger, but as Cinder looked her way, her mind furiously pondering whether it was safe – for Ruby – to fight back, a gasp of shock burst out of Ruby’s mouth, her eyes widening, her already fair face paling yet further.

Cinder did not have to wait long to wait until she found out what had so shocked Ruby.

“Cinder. I might have known that you’d be the one causing all of this commotion. You always were about as subtle as a goliath. That was one of the few things I liked about you.” Cackling laughter followed.

The fire of exultation burning within Cinder guttered and began to die. “Tyrian,” she said, turning her back on Ruby to face him. It was indeed Tyrian Callows, looking somewhat uglier than she had seen him last, his face scarred and pitted – presumably by Taiyang’s knuckles – but otherwise much the same. He stood in the same hunched manner, his back bent, his scorpion tail poised to strike above him, his clawed gauntlets at the ready.

Tyrian kept on laughing. She hated the sound of his laughter; she always had, even in Salem’s service; it was too cutting, too mocking. In a strange way, it reminded her of her stepsister Philonoe, always laughing at Cinder, always thinking little of her, never believing that, one day, the object of her mockery would rise and bite back.

Cinder had planned to kill Tyrian. Once she had become the Fall Maiden, once she had brought back the Relic of Choice and laid it before Salem’s throne, then she had meant to burn the little scorpion from the inside out, secure in the knowledge that, for her great service, Salem would give her anything, even the death of her pet.

But she was not the Fall Maiden. She was only Cinder Fall, and being Cinder Fall, she was not certain she could withstand him.

Don’t think like that! You must never think like that! You are Cinder Fall, and being Cinder, you will make all your enemies fall before you.

That was much easier to believe when all my enemies were dross.

Tyrian cocked his head to one side, as much like a bird as a scorpion. “And you brought me a rose as well, how thoughtful of you. I didn’t know you cared.”

“It was true,” Ruby whispered. “It was… you were right all along?”

Tyrian sniggered. “I’m afraid the Sun Queen and I have come to an understanding,” he said. “You are to be a sacrifice for the survival of this… charming community.”

Cinder reforged her blades together into a bow of black obsidian. “Go, Ruby,” she commanded. “Run. Get your father, get Cardin, get the others, get them out of Freeport. Go, I’ll hold him off.”

“Hold me off?” Tyrian repeated, his voice incredulous. “Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten who I serve? Do you take me for one of these plastic soldiers?” He smirked. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather run yourself?”

Cinder scowled. “You can make me a corpse, Tyrian, but you cannot make me a coward.” I will not run, I will not bend, I will not cower. I may break, I may fall, but I will resist both until my last breath.

I am beyond submission.

Tyrian laughed. “How noble. How brave.” He laughed once more, softer this time, and a little darker. “How… foolish.”

Ruby did not run. Ruby levelled her carbine and opened fire on Tyrian. Once, twice, three times, Crescent Rose cracked, fire blasting forth from the muzzle. The smile, as wide as a shark’s, did not leave Tyrian’s face as he blocked all the bullets with his tail as though his aura could not be damaged there and sprang for her.

Cinder loosed at him; he shattered the arrow with a single blow from his clawed gauntlets and opened fire on her, making her dive to the ground as his bullets tore at her aura. He fell on Ruby like a wave descending upon the shore; even if Crescent Rose had been fully extended, even if there had been space to wield the scythe, even if all conditions had been optimal for Ruby, he would still have outclassed her. She was the sheep, and he was the wolf, and he caught her as she stumbled backwards, his claws slashing outwards. Ruby cried out in pain as his blades tore at the aura she had left.

Cinder leapt to her feet, loosing another glass arrow. Tyrian reached out one casual hand and idly caught the shaft, a moment before it exploded in his grip.

Sometimes, he could be so predictable.

Cinder charged, her bow transforming into twin blades that glittered in the light of the burning fire. “Ruby, run!” she yelled once more, as she brought both swords down in a slashing stroke aimed at Tyrian’s tail.

The tail darted out of the way; Cinder’s stroke fell on empty air, then it lashed out at her, aiming for Cinder’s eyes, driving her back before Tyrian himself rounded on her.

He slashed at her; she parried both his gauntlets. He fired the guns strapped to his wrists, shattering the glass weapons which then assailed his face like a swarm of knives, slicing through his aura. Cinder leapt up, her whole body spinning as she kicked at Tyrian’s face; the blow connected, but even as his face snapped back, he had the presence of mind to grab Cinder by the ankle and hurl her into the stone wall.

She heard Ruby shriek.

Cinder regained her feet in time to see Ruby’s aura break from a punch to the stomach. She staggered back, winded. There was no blood to be found on her hands, but Cinder feared she would not see it against the red and black of her corset.

Tyrian drew back his tail, a savage look upon his face.

Cinder threw herself forward, between Tyrian and Ruby, taking the jab of the scorpion tail into her gut; she felt her aura shudder beneath the impact and drain away.

Tyrian scowled as he leapt backwards, landing deftly on his feet a short distance away from her. “Do you imagine that I’m going to kill you, Cinder?” he asked. “No, no, I won’t kill you. I will take you back to Castle Evernight and let the Goddess herself show you what happens to those who betray her!”

Cinder pointed one of her glass blades straight at him. “If you want to take me, Tyrian, then come and get me!”

Tyrian sprang at her. Cinder charged at him. They clashed in the centre of the room like two bulls battling for mastery of field and herd. Tyrian caught first one, and then the other of Cinder’s obsidian swords with his wrist blades. He smiled at her. Cinder smiled back, before – remembering her battle with Rainbow Dash in the Emerald Tower – she threw her head forward and butted him with it on the nose, once, twice; he retreated before she could repeat the trick a third time. Cinder pursued, her glass swords singing. Tyrian met her with claws and guns and tail. Glass clashed with metal, sparks flying where the edges met. They lunged and dodged and leapt, slashed and parried, kicked and fired.

Cinder held her own. For now, at least. Like two bulls? No. She was the bull, and he was the lion, and his claws kept getting closer and closer to her, and he hadn’t even used his semblance yet.

But she had to fight. She had to fight for Ruby; she had to fight for herself, for her own pride and her self-respect. She had to fight because to do otherwise would be to admit defeat, and that she did not have it in her to do.

She would not go back to Salem’s torments without a fight.

Her whole body was stained with sweat, her breathing was coming thick and heavy but still, she fought on; she fought on because she couldn’t do anything but fight, because fighting was all that had been left to her. She fought because-

Cinder was struck in the back by something, a powerful blast that tore through her aura and sent her staggering forwards. Tyrian’s smile cut like a knife as he took advantage of her weakness, grabbing her back the neck and throwing her to the ground, breaking her aura as he slammed her into the stone.

Tyrian sniggered. “If you hadn’t given your powers away to the Nikos girl, you might have stood a chance.”

I gave my powers away to Pyrrha? Why would I do that? I don’t even like Pyrrha. “Don’t flatter yourself,” Cinder replied. “You only beat me because you had help.” Her eyes darted leftwards to see who that help was.

The Sun Queen strode into the chamber, attended by Laurel, Ember of the Summer Fire Clan, and Sunsprite Rose in her yellow cloak. The Sun Queen advanced ahead of all of them, her gold mask glimmering in the firelight, her robes swirling around her. She held up one hand, her palm open, and in that hand danced glowing orbs of fiery gold, pale yellow, white surrounded by green and black rimmed with rich purple; the orbs spun lazily above her hand while smaller lights of yellow, red, green, purple, and turquoise orbited them like satellites.

“I thought that I asked you to wait in your room while I attended to all matters,” the Sun Queen said.

Tyrian cackled. “Where would have been the fun in hiding away when there was fighting going on?” he asked. “Thank you for assistance, Your Majesty; it’s nice to see that you are competent, even if your servants aren’t.”

“You’re talking about those who gave their lives for Freeport and the Queen; show some respect!” Laurel snapped.

“My respect is for the living, not for those too incompetent to keep living.”

“Why?” Ruby demanded, her voice soft and quiet, a faint whisper, like thin ice that was about to crack and crumble. “I… you said that I could stay here.”

“I did,” the Sun Queen declared. “And I meant it, at the time. But events move swiftly, and as a queen, I must put the greater good of Freeport ahead of any one person. I cannot put this city of many thousands at risk for the sake of your life.”

Ruby blinked. It was hard to tell, but it seemed that her eyes were starting to fill with tears. “Sunsprite?” she asked.

Sunsprite said nothing. She did not even look at Ruby.

Coward.

“Sunsprite,” Ruby repeated. “Sunsprite, please. We… we’re family.”

“Yes,” Sunsprite admitted, her voice hoarse. “Yes. We are family. But I am also a Ranger of Freeport, and as such, I must serve my queen and the greater good of our kingdom.”

“No,” Ruby cried out, her voice shattered. “I… I trusted you. I believed you, I… I…”

Ember’s face twisted in disgust. “Do it quickly and spare her the pain, for pity’s sake. Swift and painless; don’t prolong her agony thus. If it must be done, then… may our ancestors forgive us.”

The Sun Queen turned away from Tyrian, turning towards Ruby. Cinder struggled in vain against Tyrian’s hideous strength as the Queen bore down upon her.

Sunsprite turned away and closed her one good eye.

“Wait.”

The single word from Tyrian was enough to still all movement in the chamber. Laurel, the Sun Queen, and Ember all looked to him.

“Sami,” Tyrian said. “Hold Cinder. Kill her if she struggles too much.”

“With pleasure,” Sami said as she advanced out of the darkness, from the same direction from which Tyrian had first come, her knife held tightly in her hand.

Tyrian rose to his feet, and as he did so, Sami took her turn to straddle Cinder, holding her down, putting her knife to Cinder’s throat.

“Of course you would be with him,” Cinder spat.

“Of course,” Sami agreed. “More fool you for thinking that this day would never come.” She smirked, scraping the tip of her knife across Cinder’s neck. “I have waited for this day since the moment I met you,” she declared. “Not so damn smug now, are you?”

“Don’t kill her, my young apprentice,” Tyrian said casually. “Not unless you really have to. Her offence was committed against the Goddess, and it is the Goddess who will take her vengeance and punish Cinder’s transgressions. But you…” He walked towards Sunsprite, hunched over, tail flickering. “Open up your eyes. Or should I say, your eye.” He laughed, as though he had just made the wittiest remark in the world.

Sunsprite opened up her eye warily.

“A silver eye!” Tyrian exclaimed. “You have a silver eye!”

“Yes,” Sunsprite snapped. “What of it?”

Tyrian chuckled. “Your Majesty, there is no need for you to dirty your hands with the blood of little miss Rose… just yet. If you will hold her, and the traitor Cinder here – and it might be wise to detain their other companions sooner rather than later – then you and I must have a little talk about the future. At once.”

The Sun Queen was silent for a moment. “Very well. We will talk some more in my chambers. Lady Ember, will you go muster warriors to our support? I fear that we have need of them after our losses this morning.”

Ember exhaled audibly. “Very well.”

“Sunsprite, Laurel, secure these two within the dungeons,” the Sun Queen commanded. “And then make ready to receive our other guests.”

Tyrian did not so much sit in his seat so much as he perched on it, legs resting on the wooden stool, his posture crouched, his fingers steepled.

Sunset found it unnerving. She wondered if that was the point.

“So, then,” Sunset said, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking. “What is it that you wish to discuss with me?” Can you not take your pound of flesh and get out of my sight?

“Your silver-eyed Ranger,” Tyrian said. “What’s her name, Sunsprite?”

“Sunsprite Rose,” Sunset agreed. “Ruby is her long-lost cousin. As you can imagine, this business… it has hit her hard. I will be glad when it is all over.”

“It will be over sooner than you think,” Tyrian said. “She will have to die, alongside her cousin.”

“What?” Sunset exclaimed. “That was never a condition of our agreement!”

“I’m altering the terms of our agreement,” Tyrian said calmly. “Pray I don’t alter it any further.”

“Now hang on just a moment,” Sunset said, rising to her feet. “You can’t just tell me-”

“Except that I did just tell you,” Tyrian said. He remained upon his seat, after his peculiar fashion. “Didn’t I? Just as I just told you that Ruby would have to be sacrificed for the greater good, and you accepted that. What makes Sunsprite any different, hmm?”

“Sunsprite has served me faithfully,” Sunset said.

“Then I’m sure that, willing as she is to give her life for you, she will gladly, well, give her life,” Tyrian suggested, mockery in his voice. “After all, you cannot put this city of thousands at risk for the sake of one life.”

Sunset growled. “Damn you.”

Tyrian laughed. “I serve the Goddess; I am the only person in all of Remnant who can be certain of divine approval.”

“What kind of queen will I be if I give up my servant?”

“What kind of queen will you be if you have no city to rule over?” Tyrian replied. “Remember, Majesty, that you rule here by the good grace and forbearance of the Goddess. You survive because she allows it, and you will end because she demands it.” He leapt down off his stool. “Look at you,” he sneered, “playing queen in your costume and your mask; don’t let the grandiose title you have given yourself go to your head. You can submit to me, and through me to the one whom I serve, and you may continue on, strutting up and down this meagre stage receiving the accolades that you desire; or you can defy me, and all that you have worked for will burn before your eyes.”

Sunset closed her eyes, though he could see it behind the mask. Every word he said was true, curse him for it. He understood her better than her other self had.

She was… she was no true queen. She was playing pretend, nothing more, and she had roped her friends into the game. All her hopes, all her ambitions… they would all come crashing down around her unless… unless she gave up Sunsprite.

A true queen would not sacrifice a faithful retainer. A true queen would fight for all her loyal subjects, as loyal to them as they were loyal to her. A true queen would dare defiance of this evil, though the queen of grimm be immortal.

But she was no true queen. She was false, fool's gold. She was playing.

But she didn’t want the game to end just yet.

“Very well,” she said. “Let them both die.”

The line of Rose would end, but the future of Freeport would be assured.

Her future would be assured.

The Sun Queen would survive, and she would continue to rule, and all at the cost of two lives.

She could live with that.

The Conscience of the Queen

The Conscience of the Queen

Tyrian had departed, although where he had departed to, Sunset did not know.

Not to kill the Rose girls – Rose women; Sunsprite was older than Sunset Shimmer by three years – they had agreed on how that would be done. They would die in the sight of all, where Freeport could see it done and know that it had a queen who would make any sacrifice in order to protect her kingdom and the greater community of her subjects.

Where, then, had Tyrian departed to? To find his little caribou acolyte, perhaps; Sunset didn’t much care. She would see him tonight, when the time for the executions came. Until then, she did not want to see him. She did not want to be reminded of just what she had done, what offences she had committed.

She was alone. Her mask was discarded; she was not to be disturbed, not even by her inner circle, and that meant that she was free to liberate her face from the stuffy confines of the golden visage that concealed her own.

Nobody could see her. Nobody ever saw her. Nobody saw Sunset Shimmer. They saw the Sun Queen, a prince of power, wreathed in majesty, awesome and inspiring; they never saw Sunset Shimmer, pretender to the part of lordship, squirming in torment at the costs that this path asked of her.

To think, when she had convinced her friends to set out upon this road, she had thought it would be fun. The girl who would be queen and her three companions, whom she had promised would be great ladies of the court. They would do some good, to be sure, civilising these crude barbarians and making something great and virtuous out of them, but at the same time, they would have some fun as well. They would dine every day upon the finest meals in the kingdom, they would sup the finest wine, they would live as richly as any Atlesian elite, they would be Schnees within their little hidden world. No, they would be better than Schnees, for they would have royal and lordly titles, and all would come to them grovelling on bended knee to seek their favour.

Playing pretend, indeed.

What would Robyn Hill – the human Robyn Hill, the Robyn Hill that Sunset had served under and then abandoned – think of her now, to see her become all that the Happy Huntresses had striven against, the privilege and the arrogance of Atlas, the way in which those above sacrificed those below for their own comfort?

I do not do this for comfort but security.

But Robyn would not have given me up to General Ironwood, not under the guns of the entire fleet. Not even for Mantle would she have sacrificed a single one of her huntresses.

But then, she always was a fool.

A fool, yes. A romantic fool, an inspiring fool, a fool positive, a foolish idealist… a fool full of virtues, whether the world saw it or not.

I may be wiser, but am I virtuous? If it is the wise course to give up Ruby and Sunsprite to Salem’s servant, then should it not also be the right course? How can it be virtuous to be foolish? How can something be wise and not correct? Are not correct and right synonymous? If it is wise to sacrifice two lives for the sake of thousands, then is that not, by default, the right course?

Then why do I feel like a sinner?

Sunset shook her head vigorously. General Ironwood would see things as I do. He would make the choice as I have done, to trade two lives – but two lives, less than a handful, but two! – for the sake of peace and the survival of many myriads more. Mayhaps Professor Ozpin would have done so too, for how else did he withstand this great evil that goes by Salem, save by trading lives, a small number for a greater one?

I have made the right choice.

Then why need I protest so much?

Sunset looked down at her hands. They were clean, but they felt impure; Ruby and Sunsprite still lived, and yet, Sunset felt as though their blood was already on her hands, staining it, soiling it beyond repair. Sunset strode across the room to where a basin of water sat. Rosepetals floated on top of the water, lending it a sweet scent that Sunset ignored as she plunged her hands into the bowl, scrubbing at her palms, rubbing them over and over again, scratching at them with her nails as though she thought to tear the skin off them.

But no amount of scrubbing or scratching could make them feel clean again.

And this when the Roses are not yet dead. How will I feel when I have blood upon my hands in truth?

Will all the water in the oceans quit me of this deed?

Sunset looked up. A mirror hung upon the wall above the wash basin. It was an old mirror, and a rather dirty one; around the edges, it was too murky and stained to see, but in the centre, she could behold her own reflection perfectly.

She was, as she had always been, as so few people saw these days, Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset Shimmer, the name that did not belong to her alone in Remnant but also to her other self, to the pony she had lured into this tower and whose body Dawn had taken for herself.

Sunset had thought her other, Equestrian self to be… rather pathetic, honestly. She had great power, to be sure; her Equestrian magic put the powers that Sunset herself had inherited through the Old Blood to shame, and yet, she had done so little with it. Not a queen, not a commander, not even the leader of any team that could be named with honour; guardian of a ragtag and bobtail crew traipsing across Sanus. How small, how insignificant. How… disappointing.

Sunset herself had laughed inwardly, to see the difference in their degrees; she had delighted in how high she was by comparison with her other self, even as she had wondered how it was that they could be the same and yet come to such different fates. But now…

Sunset – the other Sunset, her other self – had been faced with just such a choice as this one: to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many. To give up those who had fought beside her and served her faithfully for the sake of an entire city.

And she had chosen differently. She had made the opposite of Sunset’s choice. She had chosen Ruby over Vale.

Which of them had made the right choice? Which of them, with crowns and masks and temporal status put aside, was the better person?

Was it possible that the reason the other Sunset had failed to climb as high as she had was because of her greater virtue? Did she love more, though that love kept her tethered to the ground and prevented her from soaring as high as Sunset herself had managed? No, surely not. Sunset cared about her friends, she cared about Laurel, about Cherry, about… about Dawn, whom she had ordered to give up her body for the sake of their community here in Freeport.

So many sacrifices for the greater good. At what point do the sacrifices pile up so high that the good is no longer greater?

At what point does it stop being worth it?

There was a knock upon the door. Sunset started and dashed quickly across the room, grabbing her golden mask in her still-dripping hands. “Who is it?” she demanded.

“Laurel, my Queen,” Laurel replied. “May I enter?”

Sunset sighed and put her mask back on. Laurel, of course, knew what she looked like without it, but at the same time, there was always the chance that someone else might see in through the open door, and she didn’t want to take the risk. “Enter,” she said, reluctance obvious in her voice.

The door into her chamber creaked open, and Laurel stepped through, closing the door behind her again with another creak of the hinges. Her watery eyes glanced around the room. “You’re alone.”

“Yes, of course I’m alone; you don’t see anyone else here, do you?” Sunset snapped. She sighed. “I’m sorry; I… I wish to be alone.”

“I’m not sure that you should be.”

“Well, I wish it anyway!” Sunset declared. “Did you come in here with a reason or simply because you thought I needed company?”

Laurel pursed her thin lips together. “I came to tell you that Ruby Rose and Cinder Fall have been locked away in separate cells. Lady Ember has gone to muster her warriors, and Sunsprite is forming a Ranger company. I’ve also replenished our guards here.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said softly.

“What… what is to become of them?” Laurel asked.

“Ruby and Cinder?”

“All of them,” Laurel clarified.

“Ruby will be put to death in the pit,” Sunset said.

“Publicly?”

“Are not all deaths in the pit public?” Sunset replied.

“Normally, but… why?” Laurel asked. “Why not just strangle her quietly, in the dark, where no one can see it done?”

“Whether people see it or not, they will soon learn that she is dead by the simple fact that she is no longer around,” Sunset explained. “By making a public spectacle of it, I can control the narrative around her death, by making it clear that she has betrayed us-”

“You mean by lying about it?” Laurel asked.

“She brought the enemy to our doorstep!” Sunset yelled, her voice echoing out of her mask. “What would you have me do, Laurel? Answer me that, and then judge me for my actions; what would you have me do? Fight? Against this power, there can be no victory. Submission is our only choice, especially now. So I will tell the people that Ruby betrayed us, and they will accept her death. I hope they will accept it. If they do not… further measures may be necessary.”

Laurel winced. “I, too, hope that it will not come to that. Will it be trial by combat or a melee?”

“Trial by combat; there are no other prisoners at present.”

“What of the rest of her companions?”

“That would confuse the issue and give them the opportunity to band together and try to escape.”

Laurel nodded, conceding that particular point. “Then who will be her executioner?”

“Sunsprite.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “Good gods, Sunset!”

“She is a proven warrior.”

“She’s Ruby’s cousin!” Laurel exclaimed. “Think of how hard that will be for her! Think of what you’re asking of her; think of how this will test her loyalty.”

“If that is so, then perhaps it is good that I am testing her loyalty in a place where I can deal with the outcome,” Sunset replied. In truth, she rather hoped that Sunsprite would betray her and give her an excuse to kill Sunsprite with a clear conscience. “In any case… in any case…” She did not want to say it. She did not want to confess to Laurel the extent of the agreement that she had made with Tyrian; she did not want to admit having betrayed one of her own. She did not want to see the look of disapproval on Laurel’s face as Sunset fell short of the high expectations that Laurel had of her.

If I know that I’m right, why can I not speak of it?

She turned away. “We will speak more of this later.”

Laurel frowned. “Very well. What of Cinder Fall?”

“She will be given up to Tyrian, to do with as he will,” Sunset declared.

Laurel nodded. “Very well. And the rest of their companions?”

“Killed,” Sunset said. “In… however way I shall devise.”

“Do they have to die?” Laurel asked. “The memory stone-”

“Didn’t stop Cinder from working out that we were her enemy and attacking us,” Sunset pointed out. “Laurel, when have we ever shied away from death?”

“When have we ever sought unnecessary bloodshed?” Laurel replied. “It is one thing to adopt calculated savagery to control savages, but this? Since when have we betrayed those who placed themselves within our power?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Our betrayal runs deeper than you know,” she admitted, her voice hoarse.

“What… what do you mean?” Laurel asked, her voice soft and verging upon tremulous. “Sunset, what have you done?”

Sunset turned away from her completely. “The reason Sunsprite must be the one to fight Ruby,” she said, “is that Ruby is not the only Rose that must die in the pit.”

“Gods,” Laurel whispered. “You can’t mean to-”

“Tyrian demands it.”

“Then tell Tyrian to shove it!”

“And what then?” Sunset demanded, rounding on her. “After the satisfaction of defying him, what then? You think that I don’t want to spit in his face, you think that I don’t want to tell him no?”

“I don’t know, do you?”

“This isn’t easy for me!” Sunset yelled. “This is not… it is not with a light heart that I do this, that I swear to you, but it must be done for the sake of Freeport.”

“What is the point of Freeport if we give up those who have submitted themselves to our will merely to buy ourselves the illusion of security?” Laurel asked. “When we came here, we set ourselves the task of civilising these barbarians, of making them more than what they were before-“

“Don’t believe our own self-justifications, Laurel,” Sunset murmured. “We came here for fame and glory and to make of ourselves that which Atlas would not allow us to become.”

“You don’t mean that,” Laurel murmured. “I… I hope that you don’t mean that.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Do you remember…? There’s a story that we read when we were young, about the four children who go through a magic wardrobe into a strange land, where they defeat an evil witch and make themselves kings and queens of the place in which they find themselves. Do you remember that story?”

She glanced over her shoulder so that she could see the slight smile playing upon Laurel’s face. “The land where it was always winter, but never the holidays.”

Sunset chuckled. “Indeed. I couldn’t find us a portal to another world – not yet, anyway,” she added, with another short, sharp burst of laughter. “But I could find us a part of the world that had not yet been claimed, a virgin land for us to be queens of.”

“For you to be queen,” Laurel pointed out. “We are your counsellors, but you are still our queen.”

“And yet, I am also still your friend,” Sunset said. “Am I not?”

“I think so, for my part,” Laurel said. “But, as your friend, I feel I should tell you that if you do this, then we are no better than the Fall Forest Clan, carrying out human sacrifices to win the favour of unseen eldritch gods.”

“What if the sacrifices worked?” Sunset asked.

“We didn’t stamp out the practice because it was ineffective but because it was immoral,” Laurel replied. “At least, I believed it so. Why does Sunsprite need to die?”

“Because she has a silver eye, I think.”

“She can’t even use it.”

“I don’t think Tyrian cares about a little detail like that,” Sunset said.

“Have you asked him?”

“No,” Sunset admitted. “But… we cannot defy this power.”

“We haven’t tried.”

“And if we try, then many may die even if we succeed,” Sunset declared. “How can I ask the Summer Fire Clan, or any other, to risk their lives for Sunsprite Rose?”

“Because that’s what it means to be part of a community, isn’t it?” Laurel demanded. “Live together, die together, isn’t that the reason for having a community at all? I thought that we were here to build a better world than the one that we left behind, one where we could learn from what the four kingdoms got right and also what they got wrong, a world we could set on the path to obtaining all the glory and the greatness of Atlas without the snobbery, the racism, the way the rich and the powerful sit upon high and grind down those beneath them who have neither wealth nor power.”

“I live in a tower, Laurel; I was never subtle about who had the power and who had not,” Sunset pointed out.

“But I trusted you to use that power fairly, and for the greater good.”

“The greater good is to give up two lives for the sake of the rest, is it not?” Sunset said. “Else how can it be called greater?”

“How can any great thing involve the sacrifice of one who has done no wrong, who has only served us and our cause with loyalty and valour?”

“If she has so much loyalty, then perhaps she will gladly give her life for Freeport.”

“Then ask her if that is so,” Laurel demanded. “Ask her if she will give up her life.”

“And if she refuses?”

“Then we fight for her as she has fought for us!”

“No!” Sunset yelled. “I will not put everything at risk for the sake of… believe me, I understand where you’re coming from, better than you know. It’s very easy to cry out ‘no sacrifices, ever.’ It’s very stirring to declare that you’ll always find another way, a middle road between the unenviable choices with which the world presents you. A pretty plot, no doubt, but we must make hard choices here, based on thoughts calmly considered, evidence weighed and judged.” She shook her head. “I cannot see a way around this.”

“I do not like this,” Laurel said.

“I don’t ask you to like it, I only ask… are you still with me, Laurel?” Sunset asked. “Are you still with me, even though you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Sunset,” Laurel assured her. “I hate your choice, but… I will follow you, as I always have.”

“Thank you,” Sunset whispered. “Thank you, for saying that you don’t hate me.” Because I’m starting to hate myself a little bit right now. “I mean, I wish you would have agreed with me, but… thank you, nonetheless. Will you… have Robyn Hill brought here, please?”

Laurel blinked in surprise. “Of course. I’ll see to it right away.”

“Much obliged,” Sunset said as she turned away from Laurel so that she did not see her go, only heard the door open and close as she took her leave.

Sunset did not remove her mask again; she didn’t know how long or how short a time until Robyn was brought before her, and she didn’t want to be caught out as she nearly had by Laurel’s arrival. And so, she kept on the mask, the mask that concealed her face and all her outward show of feelings with it, and stalked across the room until she stood at the window.

She would have liked to have been on the roof. On this day, above many other days, she would have liked to have gone up to the very top of the tower and watch the sun come up over the horizon. It always cleansed her to witness it; it always filled her with new hope that she did have the strength to do all that she wished.

Perhaps, if she had been able to go up there, it would have reminded her – as Laurel had tried to remind her – that there had been high ideals behind her coming to this land, and not just childish fantasy and naked ambition.

Can my choice not be considered an ideal one?

I know not; I cannot see it so. No one can.

Why not? Why does no one else realise that survival takes precedence over all else?

I have only asked one other person. Others may agree with me: Cherry, Dawn. Perhaps even Robyn may do so; the other Robyn may think differently to the one I know.

Thinking of Robyn brought on thoughts of Equestria, of the other world that lay so tantalisingly close and yet, at the same time, just out of reach. Sunset thought about what she had said to Laurel, about the children’s story they had loved, about the fact that Estmorland had seemed the next best thing to it that she could find. For a moment, an absurd hope even more childish than anything that Tyrian had mocked her for filled Sunset’s mind and soul: to go to Equestria, not to raid, not on a smash and grab looking for magical powers to bring back to Remnant, but to stay there. To leave behind this world and all its perils and its sorrows and dwell in a land of greater peace and prosperity. Would that not be a fine tale: four girls from Remnant who went to another world and became queens over the primitive creatures whom they found there?

Alas, as Sunset was forced to grapple with right now, she did not live in a story, and – aside from the fact that they were ponies and the like – the denizens of Equestria seemed far less primitive than the savages who dwelt about Estmorland. They were numerous, as well-organised as a people dwelling in peace could be, and they had their own rulers – a diarchy of princesses, powerful enough to control both sun and moon – with whose governance they seemed perfectly well-satisfied. Sunset doubted they would take kindly to any attempt by outsiders to impose rule over them.

No, any visit to Equestria would be temporary, to get what she came for and get out again, back to Remnant where – for all its troubles, or perhaps because of them – she thought that the Equestrians would not be eager to follow.

She was of Remnant, and she would stay in Remnant.

And I will do what I must, even though I hate it and myself for doing it.

Gods, will someone not tell me that I do the right thing?

She stood at the window; the early rays of morning spread like rosy fingers over Freeport. Beneath her, yet invisible within their houses, her subjects slept soundly under the protection of the Rangers, confident in the defences erected beyond the walls, confident, what was more, in the rule of their queen, who had built up their town and was making it the centre of a state to reckon with.

Should she break faith with them for Sunsprite’s sake? Should she prize a Rose by any name above all other lives? And what of the clans who also sheltered behind the walls? What right did she have to condemn them all to salve her conscience?

How can I not convince myself when I can reason it all so perfectly?

There was another knock at the door.

“Come,” Sunset commanded, turning to face the door.

Two Rangers dragged in Robyn Hill, holding her by the arms.

“Thank you,” Sunset said. “You may leave us now. Wait outside the door. I will call for you when we are finished.”

“Yes, my Queen.” They bowed and took their leave. The door creaked as it closed behind them.

Robyn stood awkwardly, teetering as though she might fall over at any moment. Still not used to two legs. It was rather amusing, even in a situation like this one.

“Please, sit,” Sunset said, gesturing to the stool.

Robyn sat down on the floor, sitting… like a horse, Sunset realised as she stared at the faunus. Of course she is.

“That’s not actually what I… never mind,” Sunset murmured as she crossed the room and took not the seat that she had been intending to use but rather the stool that she had left for Robyn; it was closer to her guest and let her look down on her with nothing getting in the way.

“It is still strange for me to look at you,” Sunset said.

“Because you knew another version of me?” Robyn asked.

“Knew her, served her,” Sunset agreed. “As you knew the other me, I think.”

Robyn was quiet a moment. “A little. Enough that I regret what you did to her.”

“Did you like her?” Sunset asked.

“No,” she admitted. “When I knew her, she was a pompous, self-important little madam who liked to strut around the palace as though she owned it. I never understood what Princess Celestia saw in her, why she was teaching someone who was only going to misuse the lessons she was interested in and forget the ones that meant nothing to her. I didn’t understand how she couldn’t see… but nobody deserves to have their body stolen from them.”

“Don’t be so quick to say so,” Sunset urged. “There are a great many truly wicked people in the world.”

“Then deal with their wickedness,” Robyn replied. “Punish them, but don’t do what you’ve done to Sunset; especially since you weren’t doing it because you thought she was especially deserving.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Sunset insisted. “I did it, in part, because she was dangerous. The Sunset that you knew may have been arrogant, egotistical, but in this world, she became far worse, a harbinger of death and destruction, one who brought peril wherever she went.”

“Intentionally?”

“Does that matter?” Sunset asked. “The dead as a result are just as dead; the destruction in consequence is just as real.”

“It matters because one deserves condemnation and the other pity,” Robyn murmured.

Sunset chuckled. “Your other self might not be so generous.”

Robyn was quiet a moment. “Who is she?”

“A freedom fighter,” Sunset explained. “A rebel. Idealistic, and in her idealism, rather foolish.”

“A rebel?” Robyn murmured. “That doesn’t really sound like me.”

“No, because you’re a pillar of authority, aren’t you?” Sunset asked. “Captain of the Royal Guard. Mayor of a town. Of course, if she were here, the other Robyn would say that that is because you have the advantage of living under the rule of a just and noble princess and not an unprincipled tyrant. Or are there those who would say the same of your princess, and you simply happen to not be amongst them?”

“Perhaps there would be, although I know them not,” Robyn replied. “Are there any who would defend whomever my other self calls tyrant?”

“Undoubtedly, and very vociferously too,” Sunset replied. “I would not be amongst their number, however.”

“Is that why you are here and not… wherever the other me is?”

“I am here because my homeland was too small a space for my ambitions,” Sunset said. “I came here because I needed somewhere I could spread my wings and soar. I came here on a lark, because a kind of madness took me. I came here because I thought it might be fun. I came here for a whole host of reasons, some noble and others less so. I came here… at some point, our reasons stop mattering, don’t you agree? It comes to a point where we are where we are, and we must accommodate it and do what we can in the circumstances.”

“I suppose so,” Robyn said softly. “I’m wondering what I’m doing in these particular circumstances.”

“I want to talk to you,” Sunset replied. “As an outsider, you have a… unique perspective to offer me.”

“I might have, but it doesn’t mean that I want to offer it to my captor.”

“I have not treated you as harshly as I could,” Sunset informed her.

“No, you’re just going to invade my home and pillage it,” Robyn said. “Or try to.”

“Dawn tells me that your home is soft, comfortable,” Sunset said. “She tells me that peace has made your people indolent and helpless.”

“Equestria is yet defended,” Robyn declared.

“By what?” Sunset asked. “The Power of Friendship?”

“A power that has seen off greater powers than you,” Robyn declared.

“I do not doubt it,” Sunset acknowledged. “That is why I do not intend to stay, much as the notion of conquest appeals to my inner child. You are fortunate, to live in such a world as I understand you do,” she added. “A… childish world.”

“'Childish'?”

“A world where the logic of children still applies,” Sunset explained. “A world where the things that children believe in – friends, loyalty, laughter, kindness – can still save you.”

“You say that as though it is not so in this world.”

“It isn’t, believe me,” Sunset muttered. “Would that it were, then…”

Robyn waited for her to continue. “Then what?”

Sunset was silent a moment. “Have you ever had to choose whether to sacrifice a life for the sake of many others?”

“No,” Robyn said.

“Has it ever happened?”

“It may have; I cannot say for certain, one way or the other,” Robyn admitted. “But, as a rule, although we are ready to sacrifice ourselves, we prefer not, and we do not take upon ourselves the right to sacrifice others.”

“How very fortunate you are to live in a world where such ideals are possible.”

“Why am I here?” Robyn demanded. “What do you want of me, Queen Sunset; what is the point of all this?” Her eyes narrowed. “Who must you sacrifice?”

Sunset chuckled. “You are as clever as your alternate. As you say, I must make a sacrifice, but my conscience revolts against it.”

“Considering some of the things your conscience will tolerate, I am mildly amazed to hear that,” Robyn muttered dryly.

“You have a glib tongue for a prisoner.”

“I thought you wanted me to speak freely?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “The sacrifice has served me loyally and without complaint. There is also her cousin, who is not near my conscience save that she put her trust in me. And yet, if I refuse, the whole of Freeport stands imperilled. Are you telling me that, in your world, you would not make that trade?”

Robyn did not reply immediately. It was strange to look at her, familiar and not, the fact that Sunset knew distorted by those faunus features. “In Equestria,” she said, “we are fortunate, in recent years, to have a hero named Twilight Sparkle, in whom courage and wisdom are combined with kindness and charity.” She smiled. “I knew her briefly; actually, to say I knew her overstates it. Her brother was my protégé; I chose him to be my successor as captain when I retired-”

“You’re very young to retire, if I may say,” Sunset interjected.

“We don’t have very many grizzled veterans in the Royal Guard; it’s a game for the young,” Robyn explained. “It was time to hand off that particular baton and find some new way of making Equestria an even better place, as we all seek to do.”

“Do you? I find that hard to believe,” Sunset replied. “I mean, I thought that it was strange, at first: two different worlds, quite distinct in so many ways, and yet, the people are the same, but then I realised why.”

“Go on,” Robyn said.

“Because people are always the same.”

Robyn snorted. “Perhaps, but we’re also products of our different worlds, don’t you think?”

“To an extent, true,” Sunset conceded. “You grew up in a world ruled by just authority, so you become someone whom your alternate – who did not – would call a bootlicker.”

“We don’t wear boots,” Robyn pointed out. “Hooflicker, perhaps.”

Sunset shook her head. “You were talking about Twilight Sparkle.”

“Ah, yes,” Robyn murmured. “I didn’t know her, but I observed her early years in the palace with Princess Celestia. Bright, and the princess seemed to enjoy her company, but I wouldn’t have pointed her out and said ‘here is somepony who will become a hero.’ And yet, here we are. Perhaps I’m just a poor judge of character. The point is that we are blessed in Equestria to have a hero; if such grave danger as you now face threatened us, doubtless, we would trust in her and her companions to redeem us from it.”

“No doubt,” Sunset agreed. “And yet… we are not so fortunate, and being unfortunate, we must rely upon cold reason.”

“Were you hoping I would give you absolution?”

“I was hoping you would understand.”

“I do,” Robyn said.

“Do you? How can you, coming from where you do?”

“Because although I have never been a sovereign, I have served one,” Robyn declared. “There is a tale… it does not mirror your situation, but nevertheless… Princess Celestia has a younger sister, Princess Luna, who one thousand years ago rebelled against her elder sister and sought to cover Equestria in night eternal. When Princess Celestia could not reason with her younger sister, she was forced to banish her, sealing her magically within the moon for a thousand years until Twilight Sparkle and her friends rescued and redeemed her. It broke her heart, and that heart remained quietly broken for all the years that passed.” Robyn paused. “One of the most valuable lessons I was taught by my predecessor, one of the lessons I taught to Shining Armour, was how to seem not to notice the princess’ sadness. She tried to keep it to herself, but sometimes, it would slip out, the cracks would show, and when they did, our job was to ignore it. Her Highness did not want our pity, and we had no wish to embarrass her by drawing attention to her sorrow. She made a sacrifice for the good of Equestria, and then she had to live with it for the next millennium. So I suppose the question is: can you live with it?”

Sunset’s only response was to call out, “Guards!” As they entered the room, she said, more softly, “Thank you for speaking with me. Take the prisoner back to her cell.”

She stared, without seeing, as her commands were carried out. As she retreated into her own thoughts, she barely noticed that Robyn wasn’t there any more.

Can I live with it?

I don’t know, I’ve never had to live with anything like this before.

She had scarcely had to live with anything at all before. That was the beauty of the memory stone: if she had troubles, she could simply use it to erase all memory of her or it or anything she wished and move on.

She considered – and not for the first time – using it on Tyrian, but it was possible that he had already communicated with Salem in some way and, with no idea of who or what she was, Sunset doubted her ability to use the magic upon her, if it would even affect an immortal.

She feared that, if she attempted such trickery, the servants of Salem would keep coming, one after another, until Freeport burned.

Which brought her back to living with it.

Could she live with it?

This Princess Celestia banished her own sister… but her sister was a rebel, and even that was little consolation.

Sunsprite is not a rebel… but let’s be honest, it’s not like I think of her as a sister or anything.

If I do this, will I be a false queen or a true one? A queen defends her people, but do I break that charge by betraying Sunsprite or keep it by the reason for which I commit the betrayal?

The door opened again, without so much as a knock upon it. Sunset rose to her feet, and as she rose, so too her voice rose in anger, “How dare you-?” She stopped, the words caught in her throat because it was her own face staring back at her. Or rather, it was the face of Sunset Shimmer, the other Sunset Shimmer, the Sunset with a tail and pony ears, stepping lightly through the doorway.

“Dawn?” Sunset asked. “Dawny, you… you’re up?”

Dawn smiled. “I’m back.”

Sunset stared at her for a moment, before a shout of exultation erupted from her mask and, heedless of all queenly dignity, she rushed across the room, robes flying around her, to grab Dawn around the shoulders and pull her into an embrace.

“Dawny!” she cried. “You’re awake! You’re awake and…” She pulled away. “Did you get what you came for?”

Dawn grinned and held up one hand. A green light, emerald in shade, surrounded her skin. Sunset looked around in time to see the stool on which she been sitting rise into the air, surrounded by a similar green light.

“Nice,” she said. “How many more tricks like that do you have up your sleeve now?”

“I’m working through a few,” Dawn replied.

“Did the original owner of this body give you any trouble?”

Dawn’s face fell. She pulled away from Sunset, walking past her towards the window. “Not really,” she murmured. “Not much, after…”

Sunset let the silence carry on for just a little while. “What did you do?”

“I… I persuaded her to…” Dawn trailed off. “You know… I know that you said that she was dangerous, and I can see why, but… all the same… I kind of like her. She’s got… I don’t know how to say it, but she follows through. Resolve might be the right word. Going through her memories, she sticks to her guns, and she follows through… and comes through, for the people who need her.” She looked around. “She’s a bit like you, that way.” Dawn snorted. “Makes sense, since she kind of is you; you’ve both got that same spirit, that same resolve, if that’s the right word. Only lately… that resolve has been slipping from her.”

She’s not the only one, Sunset thought. She said nothing. She would let Dawny say what needed to be said.

“And I had to break that,” Dawn continued, her tone melancholy. “It wasn’t hard, because it was halfway to shattered already but… I’ve never minded going into someone’s head before, but taking it over… convincing someone I kind of like to kill themselves, that… I hate that we need this.”

“You convinced her to kill herself?”

“She stopped fighting,” Dawn explained. “She’s still in there now, but… she’ll die, because I’m in the driver’s seat, and there’s no room for passengers. And she was okay with that. She even gave me the memories I needed. Honestly, I think that she was just done, and glad to be done. These people around her, they treat her like a dog or a mule. She does everything for them, always there when they need it and in return… I don’t know if it’s the true or her appalling lack of self-esteem, but they don’t even seem to like her very much. Nobody gives a damn about her, not even herself.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Sunset said.

“Sorry,” Dawn replied quickly. “It’s just… emotional bleedthrough, you know? What she feels, I feel now.”

“And she feels unappreciated?”

“Not that she’d like to admit, I think.”

“I know that feeling too,” Sunset said. “But you can use her magic now?”

Dawn nodded. “I’m not an expert yet, though.”

“I don’t suppose you already know how to destroy a whole army of grimm?”

“I’m afraid not; I think that’ll take me a while.”

“Pity.”

“Obviously, but…” Dawn’s stolen eyes narrowed. “Has something happened?”

“An envoy from Salem has found us while you slept.”

Dawn’s breath halted for a moment. “Found us or found them?”

“Does it matter?” Sunset asked. “He’s here now, and with an army of grimm in waiting if he decides to make use of them.”

“Wipe his memory.”

“I can’t be sure it would make any difference,” Sunset said.

“Damn,” Dawn muttered. “What does he want?”

“He wants… he wants…”

“The more you hesitate, the more nervous I get.”

“He wants Ruby Rose dead, and Sunsprite too,” Sunset said quickly, the words clattering out of her mouth. “And he wants Cinder Fall to take back with him to his mistress for chastisement.”

“Sunsprite?” Dawn repeated. “Sunsprite and her cousin? Is this because of their silver eyes?”

“Most likely.”

Dawn winced. “And have you… are they… what… what’s going on?”

“Ruby is in the dungeons with Cinder, Sunsprite doesn’t know the truth, and men are being mustered to imprison the rest of Sunset’s companions.”

Dawn’s head dropped, her fiery hair – the same hair as Sunset, now – fell down all around her face. “Sunset,” she murmured. “I promised the other you that Ruby would be safe here with us, and that her companions would be allowed to go on unmolested.”

“She’s not exactly around to hold you to your word, is she?”

“Damn it, Sunset!” Dawn snapped. “I gave her my word!”

“And I gave Ruby mine!” Sunset shouted. “But things change. Choices narrow. There are no good options here, but this… this is the least bad option.”

“Is it?” Dawn asked.

“You sound like Laurel.”

“If we’re both saying it, maybe you should listen.”

“What would you have me do?” Sunset demanded. “You’ve said it yourself: your command of the magic isn’t complete enough to keep us all safe.”

“No, but… that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made me a liar.”

“I’m already a false lord and a betrayer; what’s a liar on top of that?” Sunset murmured. “I didn’t… it was not my intent, but… I don’t like this any more than you do, but… it must be done, one life for many.”

“The other you trusted me.”

“The other me would burn down all of Freeport to protect her precious Ruby; is that right?” Sunset asked. “Is she a better person than I am? Is she nobler, kinder?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Sunset replied. “Especially now.”

Dawn looked away. Her equine ears wilted atop her head. “I fear that… she has more heart than you do. She uses it to think with more than you do.”

“And that’s better?”

“She would never do what you propose to do.”

“Oh, trust me, I know exactly what she would do in my position,” Sunset replied. “So which of us do you agree with?”

Dawn did not reply. Nor did she raise her head. Eventually, her voice came, a little disconsolate. “With my head, and not Sunset’s heart, you are making the right choice,” she admitted. “But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it; nobody likes it,” Sunset said. “We simply have to live with it.”

And she could live with it.

She could.

She would.

She was the Queen of Freeport, and she would do whatever it took. She would bear any burden. Shoulder any sin.

Make any sacrifice.

Taken Captive

Taken Captive

Ruby was crying

She was sitting hunched up, arms wrapped around her knees, her back against the stone wall of her dark and gloomy cell, and she wept.

Cinder could barely see glimpses of her face. There were flashes of pale skin, but most of it hidden as she buried her face in her knees.

She felt guilty for being able to see that much, for being able to hear the other girl’s sobs. She was not Ruby’s friend; she had no right to see her at her lowest thus. It was indecent; it made her stomach squirm with embarrassment. It was not right that she should be here to witness this.

It was not right that they should be here at all.

None of this was right.

They were bound in separate cells, divided by stout wooden poles lashed together to make them stronger, just as the doors to the cell were constructed out of wood. With her aura and the strength it gave her, Cinder could have broken free from this confinement quickly enough… but for all that was primitive about Freeport and the nascent kingdom that she was creating, the Sun Queen had nevertheless managed to replicate a means of suppressing the aura of her prisoners.

The fact that she was able to do that, of all things, said a great deal about where her priorities lay, in Cinder’s opinion.

And so, Cinder sat, her arms bound by chunky shackles of brass that suppressed her aura and left her limbs trembling from weakness, upon a floor that was covered in dirt and dust and a few wisps of straw laid upon the stone.

The dungeon was dark, with only a single torch providing any illumination, and in the darkness, Cinder could not see if they were being left unguarded or if there were a host of faunus with excellent night vision positioned in the shadows beyond her sight.

Not that it mattered; without aura, she was not getting out of this cell.

And neither was Ruby. Although, in the case of Ruby Rose, Cinder could not help but wonder if she would have been capable of escape even with her aura functioning.

She had not moved since they had been cast into this place, except to hug herself. She simply sat there, saying nothing, sobbing.

Cinder could not see the tears, but from the pitiful sounds coming from Ruby, they could not be far away.

Cinder shuffled across the cell floor, until her shoulder was resting upon the wooden bars that separated their two holding pens. “Ruby,” she said, her voice soft. She did not quite know why she was trying to be her comforter, except because there was no one else to do it, and she could not simply sit by and let this happen. “Ruby, I’m sorry.”

Ruby sniffed. “You’re… you’re sorry?” she asked. “Why? What do you have to be sorry about? You were right about everything: Sunsprite, the Queen, this place. If I’d only listened to you-”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Cinder said. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Ruby asked. She sniffed once more. “I thought that we were family. I thought… I thought she cared about me, her and grandpa. I thought that… I thought that I’d found a home again, with them. I thought… I was so stupid.”

“We all want a place to belong, Ruby,” Cinder murmured. “No one wants to feel all alone in the world; we all desire to feel that sense of belonging, of being wanted somewhere. And we are sometimes willing to go to great lengths to attain it.”

“Is that why you served Salem?” Ruby asked. “To find somewhere you could belong?”

Cinder was quiet for a moment. “It was… one of my many reasons,” she replied. “Salem… she showed me kindness as no one else ever had since my father died. Or so I thought, anyway. Of course, it was all lies; she saw my desire to be loved, needed, cherished, wanted, and she played upon all of those feelings to manipulate me, to keep me under her control until she didn’t need me anymore. The point is that that desire doesn’t make you foolish; it only makes you human like the rest of us.” She snorted. “Considering how often you seem to be more a marble statue than a girl, so remote in your unsullied and unattainable virtues, the proof that you are as flawed as I am is somewhat comforting to me.”

Ruby looked up at her and did not look at all amused. “What’s the matter with me?” she asked, her voice small and rather childlike.

Cinder frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

“My mom chose to go out and fight and get herself killed rather than stay with her family,” Ruby declared. “My sister chose to go out and fight and get herself killed and leave me all alone. My cousin sold me out to Salem. Am I just… am I so awful that people would rather die or join the bad guys rather than be my family? Rather than stay with me? Is it impossible for anyone to care about me at all?”

“Is that really what you think?” Cinder demanded. She hesitated, passing her hands over her face, her fingertips brushing against her skin. “Of course you think that,” she whispered. “Why wouldn’t you?”

After all, it was the same thing that she had thought for many years. She had loved her mother, but she had also hated her for leaving her daughter. She had loved her father, but also hated him for abandoning her to the mercy of her stepmother and stepsisters. And in the face of her stepmother’s callous indifference, Phoebe’s cruelty, Philonoe’s mockery, she had asked herself, in the bitter watches of the night, whether it was her fault, whether she was doing something wrong to attract this harsh treatment, whether she could not, somehow, make it better, and thus save herself.

It had taken her a long time to realise that it was not so, that there was nothing that she could do.

“After my father died,” she said, “Lady Kommenos ought to have loved me like a daughter; her own children ought to have embraced me as a sister. That they did not… it was not my fault. There was nothing that I could do to make them love me, I could not alone create the bonds of family that should have existed between us. I was… I was simply unfortunate. Phoebe was a psychopath, and Lady Kommenos didn’t care about anything but her own comfort, certainly not for mine. That was not my fault. What they did to me was not my fault, and what has been done to you, what you have suffered, that is not your fault either. Do you really believe that Sunsprite betrayed you because of some flaw in your character?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “Then why does no one-?”

“That is not true,” Cinder said. “You cannot let yourself believe it to be true. Trust me, the wicked of this world want nothing more than for you to think yourself alone, unloved, devoid of anyone who will show you a scrap of honest compassion. They want you to believe that so that they can prey upon it, can pretend to fill the need you feel and bend you to their will. Do not start down that path; you have no need. I… I vow, upon my tattered pride and whatever meaning the name of Cinder Fall yet holds, I will bring you to Mistral and deliver you into the arms of Jaune and Pyrrha, who love you well.”

Ruby blinked rapidly, blinking away tears. “How?”

Cinder shrugged. “I… am not quite sure, yet,” she admitted. “But I have been in tighter spots than this before and come out smirking.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘come out smiling’?”

“Perhaps,” Cinder conceded. “But a smirk is more appropriate for me, don’t you think?”

Ruby stared at her for a moment. Slowly, the first traces of a smile began to show upon her face.

Cinder’s hour was up, and Roman Torchwick was getting antsy.

Her instructions had been quite clear: wait an hour, and if she wasn’t back within that time, then get everyone out of Freeport. What he was supposed to do then, she had not been so clear on, but on that point, there had been no mistaking her intent: one hour, then leave.

It had, to be perfectly frank, been clearer than a lot of the instructions she had given him when she was running the Vale racket. Then it had been all ‘oh, we’re going to start a fire’ or ‘the storm will sweep aside all our enemies’ until you didn’t know whether she was giving orders or a weather forecast. But on this point, in this place, she had been clear.

And yet, the hour was past, and Torchwick was still here.

They were all still here.

Her instructions had been clear, but that didn’t mean that they made any sense. She didn’t trust the authorities in this town; that was fair enough; Torchwick made a habit of not trusting the authorities any place, and it hadn’t steered him too far wrong yet. But why, having led them into this place, was she suddenly so anxious to get them out of it, and where was she going, and why did she need an hour, and what the hell was going on around here?

And why him? And how was he supposed to persuade Ruby and Cardin to come with him when they both still looked at him like dirt on a heel?

And why should he even bother? If there was danger, then he and Neo ought to make like a tree and leave, the same way that Sami and Jack had. Maybe they’d been smarter than him, hanging around here.

Why shouldn’t he go? Why shouldn’t he ditch all of these people and get while the getting was good? What did he owe them, any of them? Cinder had gotten him into this mess, Ruby had gotten him arrested, Cardin had tried to make a soldier out of him, none of them had treated him like anything more than a tool to get what they wanted.

He didn’t owe them a damn thing. His only responsibility was Neo. His only duty was to Neo. If there was something going down – or about to go down – in Freeport, then he needed to get her as far away from Freeport as possible.

Then why hadn’t he left yet?

Torchwick turned to Neo, who was sitting on his bed, looking as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Not true, that had never been true for as long as he’d known her, but Neo sure did like to hide all her thoughts behind that smiling face of hers.

She was going to be a real heartbreaker when she grew up. And a good thing too, because if any guy came near her with indecent intentions, it would be Torchwick’s duty as a father to blow his head clean off and throw the body off a dockside pier.

“What do you think about all this?” he asked.

Neo’s hands were still for a moment. She stared at him, the smile fixed upon her face, her mismatched eyes glassy and emotionless. She raised her hands, her fingers switching rapidly between signs. Everyone’s been acting odd lately, including Cinder.

“Who else?” Torchwick asked. “And since when?”

Ruby. I went to talk to her a little while ago, before we realised Sami and Jack were gone. It was like she couldn’t remember things. Then there were things I couldn’t remember either.

“You’re having memory problems?” Torchwick asked. “Like what?”

Like why we hadn’t run off already.

Torchwick let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, that one’s easy; it’s because… because…” He stopped. Why hadn’t they run off before? Was it because they were scared of Cinder? It might be that; she did still scare him – and that was probably the best argument for doing what she said – but he didn’t think it was impossible that he and Neo could have gotten away from her, especially now that she’d lost her fancy powers.

So why hadn’t they run? Why hadn’t they taken any of the opportunities that had come their way?

“When did you notice this?”

Only tonight. Me and Ruby.

“And that’s when Cinder started acting weird too,” Torchwick muttered. “What the hell?

I’m worried about Ruby.

“I’m worried about you, kiddo,” Torchwick replied. He paused, his mind racing. If something bad was going down here, then, well, family first, right? “Grab your stuff; we’re leaving.”

Which we?

“You and me, the only we that matters; now, come on.”

What about Ruby?

“Ruby doesn’t need our help, Ruby’s fine, Ruby’s got her cousin, Ruby’s going to be sitting pretty in here with the queen and all the rest of the muckamucks.”

That’s not what Cinder thought.

“So what? Cinder doesn’t know everything.”

We can’t just ditch her. Neo’s expression as she signed that out was firm and resolute.

“Why not?” Torchwick demanded.

Because everyone has ditched her, which means someone has to stay, Neo replied. Because I like her. Because I know that you like her too.

“I wouldn’t say that I like her; I just…” Torchwick looked away from her. The truth was… the truth was that that kid had some serious spunk, and even if she was very naïve about the way the world worked, well… what if he didn’t want that to be knocked out of her? What if he wanted to see that it was possible to believe in things? What if… what if he wanted to see what she did next?

And he couldn’t do that if he ditched her like this.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “Let’s get Ruby, hell, let’s do as Cinder said and get everybody and-”

“Ruby?” the voice of Taiyang rose up from the lower parts of the tower. “Ruby!”

Torchwick rolled his eyes. “One damn thing after another.” He opened the door and strode out of his room onto the landing. “What’s going on?”

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs preceded the arrival of Taiyang Xiao Long. "Have you seen Ruby?" he demanded.

"She's not down in her room?"

"No, I'm stomping around calling her name because I'm too stupid to check her room," Taiyang said.

"Don't talk to me like that; you're the one who lost his kid," Torchwick replied.

Cardin jogged up the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Ruby's missing," Taiyang said.

"'Missing'? Where is she?"

"If we knew that, she wouldn't be missing, would she?" Torchwick snapped.

Do you think she went after Cinder? Neo signed.

"Could be," Torchwick muttered. "Damn."

"Could be what?" Taiyang demanded.

Torchwick exhaled between his teeth. "We think that she might have gone after Cinder."

"Cinder's gone too?" Cardin yelled. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know that either," Torchwick replied. "All I know is that Cinder told me that she was going somewhere and if she wasn't back in an hour, then I needed to get you all out of this city."

"Leave Freeport?" Cardin repeated. "Why? And why did she tell you that instead of me?"

"Because I'm a born survivor, kid; Cinder knows that she can trust me," Torchwick said.

"That makes her the only one," Taiyang muttered.

"How long ago was this?" Cardina asked.

"Uh, about an hour fifteen minutes ago."

"Yeah, she was right to trust you, wasn't she?"

"I wasn't sure what to do about it, okay?" Torchwick cried. "She came up here, told me she was leaving, didn't say where she was going or why, acted weird, what was I supposed to do?"

"You could have told me about it," Cardin pointed out.

Torchwick stared at him. "Yeah, that could have happened."

"We can't do anything else until we find Ruby," Taiyang said.

"Agreed," Cardin said. "We find Ruby, and then we decide whether it's worth taking Cinder seriously or not."

"Little Red isn't likely to want to leave," Torchwick pointed out.

"We don't have a lot of choice, and maybe Ruby can explain what Cinder was talking about," Cardin said. "Lyra! Bon Bon!"

Bon Bon's head appeared over the banister of the staircase leading up to the next level. "Cardin, we've got-"

"Get Lyra and come on," Cardin ordered. "Ruby's missing; we need to find her."

Bon Bon winced. "I think all of the armed warriors coming our way might have something to say about that," she said.

"The what?" Cardin cried, pushing his way past Torchwick and Taiyang and running up the stairs, his feet pounding upon them. Torchwick followed, as did Taiyang and indeed Neo, up the stairs and into Lyra's room, where Lyra herself was standing at the window.

As she turned to face the people piling into her room, Lyra wore an expression that Torchwick recognised from many a lookout who had just seen the first cop car pulling up outside the bank.

Cardin was a big guy, and as Lyra made way for him, he took up all the space at the window, but by climbing up onto Lyra's bed – he wasn't precious about his dignity or anything – Torchwick was able to see what was up.

The square around the Tower of the Moon was filling up with troops. Most of them seemed to be from that tribe, not the ones they'd travelled with since crossing the mountains, but the other guys who had joined them just before Freeport, the Summer Fire Clan, was that their name? They were the ones with the scales and the metal armour, the one led by the hot chick with the sceptre. Torchwick could see her now, or else it was someone wearing her armour and carrying her sceptre, directing her troops to surround the tower. Then there were the other guys, the Rangers like the ones they'd ridden with, and what do you know, there was even the haughty Rose in her yellow cape.

What would Little Red say to see her beloved cousin like this, leading her troops in what looked like it might turn into an attack upon them?

Was she even around to say anything? There was a possibility that her disappearance was lucky, that it meant that she wasn't caught up in this mess. There was a possibility that cousin Sunset or whatever her name was had kept her out of this on purpose, knowing it was coming. There was also a possibility that Ruby had been granted a foretaste of whatever fate awaited them, and that… that was not great, to put it mildly.

A quick glance at Taiyang's face showed that he felt just the same way. Torchwick almost felt sorry for the guy; in fact, he did feel sorry for the guy; Neo was all he could think about any time he went inside, and the fact that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself didn't change that one bit.

"What are they doing here?" Cardin murmured.

"And what are we going to do about it?" asked Bon Bon from the back of the room.

"It looks like they're fixing to attack us," Torchwick said. "I say we surrender."

Cardin whirled around to look at him. "What? Are you serious?"

"What if they're not here to attack us?" Lyra asked.

"What if they're not in the mood to take prisoners?" demanded Bon Bon.

"In order: yes, I'm serious; why the hell else would they be here in such strength; and if they mean to kill us, then we're dead no matter what we do, so it really doesn't matter," Torchwick replied. "But I've been surrounded more than a few times in my career, and sometimes, you don't have an airship waiting on the roof, and there isn't a convenient way into the sewers from the basement that the cops don't know about. Sometimes, you just have to remember that you can escape prison; you can't escape being gunned down by the police in some last stand shootout."

"We can defend the tower," Bon Bon suggested.

"For a while sure, but against so many?" Torchwick said. "There's hundreds of them out there. Listen, I know that this isn't the huntsman thing to do, but unlike most huntsman, I'm a survivor-"

"Watch your mouth, Torchwick."

"What, are you going to shut me up for speaking the truth?" Torchwick demanded. "You know better than most that I just called it right, Pops, or where are your wife and daughter-?"

"You son of a-" Taiyang lunged for him, but Cardin got in the way, restraining the older man, holding him back.

"I know he's an asshole, but calm down, sir," Cardin urged. "He really isn't worth it." He hesitated. "And besides, I think he might actually have a point this time. We don't have much chance of defending this tower against so many enemies, especially not with Cinder and Ruby gone-"

"Cinder and Ruby are gone?" Lyra asked, but nobody answered her.

"But, if we give ourselves up peacefully, we might be able to sort this out quickly and painlessly," Cardin went on. "Maybe this is all just a big misunderstanding."

"Do you really believe that?" Bon Bon asked.

Cardin was silent for a moment. "No," he confessed. "But that doesn't make Torchwick wrong. A last stand might be grandiose, but it won't help anybody for us to die here. Better we save ourselves and hope to make a difference later."

"You sound like an Atlesian officer," Bon Bon pointed out.

"I am a specialist, so… good?" Cardin said.

"Yeah, great, wonderful," Torchwick muttered. "So, we're going out there?"

"Yes," Cardin said. "We're going out there."

"Well, okay," Torchwick said. He leapt down off the bed in front of Neo. He smiled down at her, and with one hand, he swept the hat off his head and placed it upon hers. "Take care of this for me, will you, kiddo?"

Neo cocked her head to one side. Are you sure about this?

Torchwick nodded. "Sure I'm sure. I'll get it back soon enough."

Are you sure about that?

"Absolutely," Torchwick lied. "Now beat it."

Neo froze, her body still, her face unmoving, not so much as a tremble from so much as a finger. And then she shattered, like a pane of glass, the shards falling slowly to the floor before vanishing as completely as Neo herself.

"What the hell was that?" Cardin demanded.

Torchwick shrugged. "Neo has more options than the rest of us. Now, are we going or what?"

They all walked out, unarmed, their weapons – those of them that had weapons – left in their rooms. The sun was still working its way up in the sky, but there was enough light that it hit them strongly as they emerged from the tower, and it was made all the brighter by the way it glinted off the armour of all these clanfolk.

Torchwick noticed that Sunny Rose stood ahead of Lady Ashes – or whatever her name was – as though she was in charge and not the clan chief. Maybe that was because she was the Queen's woman, but even so, it kind of surprised him. Ashes or whatever was standing well back, like she wasn't even trying to pretend to be equals. Or like she didn't even want to be here at all.

The guns of the Rangers were trained on them as they emerged. Cardin raised his hands. "Hey! Hey, we're not looking for a fight. What's this about? We're all friends here. The Sun Queen welcomed us to Freeport."

"And now… that welcome has been withdrawn," Sunnyside said. "I… you are now considered enemies of Freeport."

"Why?" Taiyang demanded. "Where's Ruby?"

Sunflower looked at him with her one good eye. "Ruby is being held in the dungeon," she said. "Where you will be conveyed. Bind them all!"

Ember strode into the camp of the Frost Mountain Clan with only Smolder to accompany her. No small number of attendant guards would have protected her if Prince Rutherford decided to break the peace between them, and she had no wish to antagonise him by bringing a large number of warriors so close to his camp. Instead, she had brought Smolder, hoping that – if Prince Rutherford were inclined to violence – the sight of what they had gained by friendship, and what they had to lose by breaking that friendship, would stay his hand.

“I don’t understand,” Smolder said. “I thought you liked Ruby.”

“I do,” Ember replied. “I… did. She seemed brave… and kind.”

“Then why did you lock her up?”

“Don’t say it like that; it wasn’t my decision!”

“You went along with it,” Smolder pointed out.

“Well, yes, but-”

“So why?”

“Because… you’re too young to understand.”

“Or you don’t want to explain it,” Smolder replied. “Or you can’t.”

Ember grunted. “When I was your age, I respected my elders.”

“That’s not what Lord Torch says,” Smolder muttered.

Ember growled wordlessly; it was tradition in the Summer Fire Clan – as it was in the Frost Mountain Clan, come to that – for the old chief to step down when he felt age catching up with him, and hand off the sceptre to a successor. Their way had its advantages, not least in allowing the lordship to pass into the hands of a younger, stronger clan lord who could maintain the clan’s position and prosperity, but it also had its downsides, especially when the previous lord was also your father and could tell everyone exactly what you’d been like as a child.

Smolder looked around. The camp of the Frost Mountain Clan was not really busier than usual, and it was hard to be exact about any of these things, but Ember felt as though there were more people armed than usual when the clan was safe within the walls of Freeport. They had passed some people posted like guards, and although they hadn’t stopped Ember from entering, they had given both her and Smolder harsh gazes. There was an energy in the air here, a tension that seemed to have risen with the morning, because it certainly hadn’t been there before.

Of course, things had changed since last night. And Ember had played a part in that change. Now, she was going to see if she could smooth over the waters that she had helped to disturb.

“Smolder!” Yona cried, charging out of the crowd to hit Smolder with a flying tackle that knocked her to the ground. “Yona glad to see Smolder again! Yona heard there been fighting and Yona worried!”

“I’m fine, Yona,” Smolder groaned. “Or at least, I was until just now.”

“Yona!” Prince Rutherford called out, his voice rising above the hubbub of the camp as he strode into view. He regarded young Yona and Smolder, the former lying on top of the latter on the ground, with a firm, inscrutable look on his face. After some little time had passed, the faintest hint of a smile appeared upon his features, though he did not meet Ember’s gaze. “Yona take Smolder and have fun. Prince Rutherford and Ember of Summer Fire Clan must talk.”

“Sure!” Yona agreed eagerly, leaping up and pulling Smolder to her feet. “Smolder come with Yona, and Yona show Smolder how well Yona learn to play yovidaphone!”

“Are you sure?” Smolder asked, her words elongating into a cry for help that went unanswered as Yona dragged her off.

Ember glanced after her until she lost sight of them. “Will they be alright?” she asked.

Prince Rutherford glared at her. “Frost Mountain Clan not make war on children,” he declared.

Ember snorted. “Neither does the Summer Fire Clan.”

Prince Rutherford walked towards her. “Then Ember not bound Ruby Rose in chains, with Ruby Rose’s companions?”

“Ruby Rose can fight the grimm; I wouldn’t call her a child,” Ember replied.

Prince Rutherford spat on the ground. “Ember play pretty word games. Prince Rutherford have no patience for playing words.”

“I would rather play with words than some other things,” Ember replied.

“Ruby Rose saved Yona life!” Prince Rutherford declared. “Ruby Rose is friend of Frost Mountain Clan. Why should Prince Rutherford sit here and let Ruby sit in dungeon cell? Why should Prince Rutherford not take his axe-?”

“I came here in peace-”

“In Sun Queen’s peace, which Sun Queen has broken!” Prince Rutherford roared. “Why should Prince Rutherford honour broken peace?”

“Because things that are broken can still be beautiful, and the peace between our clans is the pearl beyond price,” Ember declared. “Wasn’t Ruby there when we sat and drank together and agreed that there was nothing in the world worth more than the fact that Smolder and Yona could grow up as friends instead of ancestral enemies?”

“Ruby agreed to that,” he reminded her. “Prince Rutherford did not.”

“You didn’t disagree either,” Ember countered. “Do you disagree?”

Prince Rutherford was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “Prince Rutherford not want to fight Ember or Summer Fire Clan. Prince Rutherford not want to see warriors fall in battle. But Ruby is friend of Prince Rutherford and friend of Yona, friend of Frost Mountain Clan. How can Ember lock her away?”

“Can you stop saying that as though this was my idea?” Ember demanded. “The Sun Queen commanded it; I… I went along with it, and provided some muscle.”

“Why?” Prince Rutherford demanded. “Why Sun Queen do such thing?”

Ember was silent for a moment. “A sacrifice,” she said softly. “To appease the wrath of a dark god who will assail Freeport else.”

“'Sacrifice'?” Prince Rutherford hissed. “Ember talk of Fall Forest Clan and bad old ways?”

Ember nodded her head shortly. “Something like that.”

“Gods!” Prince Rutherford shouted, his ham hands clenching into fists. “If Sun Queen wishes to join Fall Forest Clan, then why not Sun Queen approach Fall Forest Clan?”

“Because she trusts me,” Ember said. “She knows that I’m loyal to her.”

“Is Ember loyal? Still?”

“Yes!” Ember snapped. “I’m loyal because she stopped a war between the two of us, in case you’ve forgotten! She saved the lives of warriors of my clan and yours. She gave us a place to run to when the grimm harried us, and now, she still protects us from that same darkness.”

“With death of child!” Prince Rutherford snapped. “What if gods demand Yona sacrifice? What if Smolder next? Will Ember give Smolder up to knife of Sun Queen?”

“No,” Ember said. She scowled. “But Ruby isn’t part of the Summer Fire Clan-”

“If Ruby thought as Ember thinks, then Frost Mountain Clan die at King’s Camp,” Prince Rutherford declared.

“I understand she is your friend,” Ember acknowledged. “I understand that you owe her a debt. But I came here to make you understand that the Sun Queen is prepared for you to take up arms against her. The reason why she came to me is to make sure that my clan would take her side against yours.”

“And will Ember?” Prince Rutherford demanded. “Will Ember fight for Sun Queen against Frost Mountain Clan? Will Ember make Smolder and Yona enemies once more?”

“I don’t want to,” Ember murmured. “I’m hoping you won’t force me to make that choice.”

“What other choice have Prince Rutherford?” he demanded. “Watch Ruby die? Sit in wagon and let Ruby die without Prince Rutherford having courage to watch?”

“What is more important to Prince Rutherford, your friend or your people?” Ember demanded. “I understand, I don’t like this any more than you do, and for whatever it’s worth, I don’t think the Sun Queen likes it either, but she does what she must to protect her people; can we do any less?”

“Ember believe it?” Prince Rutherford asked. “Ember believe Sun Queen when Sun Queen say danger is great? Greater than Frost Mountain and Summer Fire and other clans and power of Freeport?”

“I believe that she believes it,” Ember answered.

“That Sun Queen believe it not make it so.”

“But can we risk that it is so?”

“Better Frost Mountain Clan die than live like Fall Forest savages,” Prince Rutherford spat.

“I know you don’t believe that,” Ember said.

“Prince Rutherford believe that Frost Mountain Clan and Summer Fire Clan prisoners of Sun Queen just like Ruby,” Prince Rutherford declared. “Prince Rutherford not wearing chains, but Prince Rutherford no longer free. And Ember no longer free either.”

“That… that might be true,” Ember admitted. More true than I’d like, anyway. “But even if we did sell our freedom, then what we gained from it was worth the cost, right?”

Prince Rutherford shrugged. “Once, perhaps, but now… If Sun Queen makes friends with folk one day and then names them enemy the next, then what did clans sell freedom for?” He rubbed at his beard with one hand. “Prince Rutherford must think on these things and on what to do about Ruby.”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Ember said. “But I won’t let you start a civil war in Freeport, I won’t let you tear down what we have.”

“What Ember have is what Sun Queen gives to Ember, like scraps of meat fed to dog!” Prince Rutherford cried. His voice lowered as he clasped a heavy hand on Ember’s shoulder. “Prince Rutherford not wish to fight Ember or Summer Fire Clan, but nor will Prince Rutherford cower in fear of Ember and Ember’s warriors. What Prince Rutherford does, what Frost Mountain Clan shall do, will be just and right, and for good of Frost Mountain Clan.

“And Ember may tell that to Sun Queen also.”

It seemed so long ago, months at least, a lifetime past, when Ruby had watched her father beat Tyrian near to death, before one of those strange grimm showed up to rescue him.

Now, trapped in her cell, held fast behind a row of stout wooden bars she could not move without her armour, Ruby was forced to watch as Tyrian beat her father to death.

Taiyang lay on the ground, groaning with each blow that fell, twisting, turning, trying to shield himself with his shackled hands. Ruby couldn’t see his face. She could only see his legs jerking, his body shifting. Tyrian straddled him, his tail flickering back and forth with a kind of glee as his fists rose and fell, rose and fell, descending upon Ruby’s father with sick, smacking, thudding sounds. And Tyrian laughed. He cackled gleefully as he pummelled Taiyang, and Ruby knew the pounding would not end until the last ember of her family had been snuffed out.

“Stop it!” she shrieked, wrapping her hands around the wooden bars, hauling upon them in futility. “Stop it, leave him alone!”

Tyrian cackled as he looked at her over his shoulder, his tail snaking back towards her. “Oh, don’t worry, little Rose, you and your dear old dad won’t be apart for too long. You’ll be joining him soon enough, and your mother too.”

“You’re a big, brave guy, aren’t you?” Cardin demanded. “Beating on a man with no aura, no chance to defend himself?”

Tyrian rose from his crouched stance, leaving Taiyang for a moment as he sauntered closer to the other cell, the one in which Cinder, Cardin, Torchwick, Lyra, and Bon Bon were being held. “Would you like to take his place?” he demanded.

Cardin’s whole body trembled, but his voice was firm. “Yes,” he declared. “In fact, as the commander of this company, I think it’s my right. Some might even call it my duty.”

Tyrian stared at him flatly for a moment. “Oh my Goddess! Was that supposed to be inspiring? Was that supposed to impress me? Was I supposed to be shocked and amazed by what kind of stalwart, brainless morons Vale breeds? I don’t care whether you’re brave or not; I’ll kill you just the same if the Goddess commands it.”

“I gave my enemies a fighting chance,” Cinder spat.

“And you failed, so what does that say about your honour?” Tyrian asked rhetorically. “If you’re all so eager to die, fine, you’ll all get your wish soon enough… except, perhaps, for you.” Tyrian took another couple of steps forward, and he thrust his tail through the wooden bars and into the cell, snaking between Cinder and Cardin towards Bon Bon. The tip of his stinger was almost touching her cheek, and although Bon Bon’s face was a mask of disgust, it was clear that she didn’t dare move away.

“What do you want with her?” Lyra demanded.

Tyrian ignored her. He spoke instead to Bon Bon. “I recognise you,” he said. “You were Doctor Watts’ girl, the one loaned to Cinder as part of her operation at Beacon.”

Bon Bon swallowed. She drew in a deep breath. “That’s right,” she said.

Tyrian tilted his head to one side. “You served the Goddess once,” he said, “albeit without knowing it. Would you like to serve Her once again?”

“What?” Sami demanded. She was standing at the back of the room, half-hidden in the shadows towards the doorway leading out of the dungeon. “You’re offering her a chance? Why? She hasn’t done anything!”

“A colleague of mine saw something in her,” Tyrian replied. “She may yet be of use. Our Goddess does have need of young women, after all.”

“Her?” Sami cried. “I thought that I-”

“Do not mistake your place!” Tyrian snarled as he rounded on her, his tail retreating out of the cell. “I will give you an opportunity to prove yourself worthy to serve, but do not imagine that I do this for your benefit, or that you alone are to be granted this great honour out of some innate quality that only you possess. You serve me, as I serve the Goddess, and as a servant, be quiet!”

Sami’s jaw clenched. She scowled, but she also failed to meet Tyrian’s gaze. “Of course. You’re the boss.”

“Why?” Ruby said. “Why are you doing this, Sami? Why would you join him?”

“Well, that’s a hard question, isn’t it?” Sami replied, some vigour returning to her voice as she spoke, looking at Ruby now instead of the floor. “Why would I follow someone who is going to make all my dreams and the dreams of my ancestors come true, when I could be trailing after a little pipsqueak like you? Really, do you even have to ask?” She shook her head. “I’ve chosen the side that will let me be free to do as I please without calling me 'monster.' I’ve chosen the side that’s going to win.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Cinder growled.

Sami snorted. “You’re trapped in a dungeon, and I’m out here,” she declared. “And besides, S- the Goddess, is immortal. Even if you escaped, there is no victory against her. Sooner or later, one way or another, you’re all going to die.”

“Except me,” Bon Bon said, pushing her way to the front. “You’re right, I once served Cinder Fall, at the behest of Doctor Watts; I helped Amber recover the Relic of Choice. Given the chance, I could be of use to your cause again. I would be glad to do so.”

“Bon Bon?” Lyra whispered. “You… no, you can’t!”

“Why not?” Bon Bon asked, her voice melancholy. “It’s a season for betrayals, seems like.”

Sami’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

“Excellent,” Tyrian crooned, stapling his hands together. “I’ll just let you out of this cell-”

“And while you’re about it, you can put the old man in there,” the Sun Queen declared as she descended the steps into the dungeon. She was accompanied by Laurel and Cherry and several armed rangers. “One in, one out as it were.”

“I’m not finished with him yet,” Tyrian declared.

“Yes, you are,” the Sun Queen insisted. “You have your pound of flesh, and more. I suggest you let that sate you for a while.”

Tyrian chuckled. “You can hand over Ruby to die, and Cinder to face unimaginable torment, but the thought of me beating Taiyang to death is too much for your tender conscience?”

“Taiyang wasn’t your target, correct?” the Sun Queen asked. “When you came to me, you spoke only of Ruby Rose.”

“He is a father,” Tyrian replied. “Do you think that he won’t try and avenge his sweet daughter if he can?”

“Let me worry about that,” the Sun Queen replied. “Put him back in his cell. The rest of you, step back.”

The Rangers trained their guns upon Cinder, Cardin, and Lyra as Tyrian – who must have gotten the keys from someone – unlocked the padlock around the chain that was holding the cell door in place.

“Out you come,” he said to Bon Bon, leering at her so much that Bon Bon almost looked as though she’d rather stay in the cell. She walked forward slowly, as though there were weights around her legs and she couldn’t really pick them up very well, but eventually, she made it out.

She didn’t look back at Lyra.

Tyrian picked up Taiyang and bodily hurled him into the cell. Cardin tried to catch him, but was knocked to the floor with an ‘oof’ and a thud.

“How is he?” Ruby cried.

Taiyang groaned.

“He’s alive,” Cardin said. “He’s hurt bad, but he should be okay.”

“If any of us are going to be okay,” Torchwick muttered.

“And how about you, Roman Torchwick?” Tyrian asked. “Would you like to serve a true queen, instead of a weak pretender?”

“Now, let me think about that for a second,” Torchwick murmured. “Nah, I’ll pass.”

“You’d rather die down here?” the Sun Queen asked.

“It’s true that you don’t survive as a criminal without knowing which way the wind is blowing,” Torchwick admitted, “but on the other hand, you don’t succeed as a criminal without being willing to take a few risks. I’m a little surprised that a queen needs a thief to teach her that lesson.”

“You think that I’m a coward, don’t you?” the Sun Queen demanded, as Tyrian shut and locked the door once more.

“Aren’t you?” Cinder replied. “I hope you don’t think this little act of mercy balances the scales.”

“You brought this on yourself when you brought darkness to Freeport,” the Sun Queen said. “If you want someone to blame, look to your own follies.”

“Do you think that this will save you in the end?” Cinder demanded. “My former mistress only uses people until she has wrung every drop of value from them that she can. You may seek for power, you may seek for favours from the winning side, but you are all sponges to the mistress of the grimm; she will fill you up with your desires until you are overflowing, but once she has wiped the world clean with you, then she will squeeze and squeeze you until you are all drier than before.

“I don’t expect you to believe me, I don’t expect to change your minds, but remember what I said. Remember it, when she disposes of the whole pack of you.”

Author's Note

Sunset will return in the next chapter.

I Am Sunset Shimmer

I Am Sunset Shimmer

The world trembled.

It probably wouldn't be long now.

Sunset could feel it, her own destruction. Time was hard to mark here, within the recesses of her own mind, but she guessed that Dawn had been in possession of her body for hours now, perhaps as long as a whole day.

Had it been so long? Yes, it had to have been. It had to have been at least that, because she already felt as though she'd been here for centuries.

There was nothing and no one. She was all alone. All alone and waiting to die.

To die, to sleep, to disappear from consciousness, to be absorbed into some gestalt, to become a part of Dawn Starfall, whatever exactly was going to happen to her. Sunset didn't know what it would be, what it would feel like. She could hope that it would be painless, more like falling asleep than bleeding to death, but all she knew was that Sunset Shimmer, as she had been, would cease to exist.

The mare who had once dreamed of becoming a great hero, of shining brighter than any star in Remnant's sky, would pass away, unnoticed and unmourned, unloved and uncared for.

Good. It was more than she deserved.

In such dark thoughts, Sunset languished, waiting for the end, waiting for her candle to be snuffed out, waiting… waiting.

And now, the world trembled.

Sunset took that to be a sign of the approaching end.

She was still on the train. The train, unlike the real one that she recalled, never stopped or reached any destination. It just kept rumbling on through the darkness, the rattling sound of wheels on rails echoing inside, not because there were any wheels or rails but because Sunset remembered the sound. The train just kept rolling on, carrying Sunset nowhere and everywhere, and the world shook.

Sunset's eyes were dry. Even within her mind, it seemed that she could weep all her tears away. And besides, she was no longer upset. She had… made her peace. She had had time down here, alone; there had been nothing to do but come to terms with the approaching end.

She had been a bad person and a worse friend. She had been selfish, proud, stubborn, cruel, vindictive, deceitful. She had used her friends and enemies alike. She had not been kind, generous, or honest; still less had she been forgiving. Loyalty was the one virtue that she could ascribe to herself, and even that was tempered by the selfish nature of her loyalty.

She had caused the deaths of good people like Yang and Professor Ozpin. She had driven away all her friends through her own faults and actions.

She had been quite simply awful, and that she was doomed soon to die was all for the general good. Cinder, Ruby, Blake, even Jaune and Pyrrha would be better off without Sunset Shimmer in their lives. She had no doubt that they would find some way to, if not defeat Salem, then at least to stay her progress and preserve the world of Remnant for the new generation.

Sunset had no doubt that her friends, so much better than she was in every way, would find the right path.

And, having no need of her, they would keep moving forward until they forgot her completely, and the absence of a fourth member of their team was little more than a curiosity unremarked upon.

Yes, yes, this was for the best.

Perhaps if she kept telling herself that, it would not pain her heart so, although Sunset was starting to doubt it, considering how long she had been repeating it, and yet, still her heart ached at the prospect of disappearing from their lives, no longer a part of their adventures, so little a part of the story that her name was not even spoken.

Perhaps Cinder will start wearing leather jackets to wordlessly evoke my memory.

That's probably about the best I can hope for.

Sunset climbed to her feet. The world shook so violently that Sunset was almost knocked off her feet and to the ground once more. The tremors were coming more quickly. Could it be long now? She wished for it to be over. Better to be snuffed out than to linger like this, torn between acceptance and heartache.

She did not want to rage her way into oblivion, but nor did Sunset wish to idle any longer here, waiting for an end that seemed increasingly and cruelly drawn out.

She knew where she wanted to go and who she wanted to be with.

Sunset closed her eyes and took a step forwards.

The sounds of the train vanished; only the low rumbling of the shaking world of her collapsing mind remained as Dawn claimed all that had once belonged to Sunset.

Sunset opened her eyes. She knew where she was at once, and not just because it was where she had wanted to be; she would have known Celestia's palace anywhere. This was the throne room, with the long red carpet covering the centre of the gleaming marble floor, leading past the great columns that held up the chequered ceiling, all the way to the raised dais and the stately throne that sat above it.

The throne was empty. The whole throne room was empty, devoid of guards and petitioners, of anyone but Sunset.

She had a little way to go just yet.

Sunset took another step forward, and as she walked, so she transformed, no longer a human but a pony once more. In her mind, the transition from two legs back to four was as swift as thought and required none of the adjustment that she had needed to get used to two legs in Remnant. She trotted forward, and as she walked upon all fours, the tremors of the earth barely affected her. None of them came close to knocking her down.

That was a side benefit of her transformation; the reason she had done it was because it seemed fitting that she should end as she had begun.

Especially considering who she wanted to end alongside.

The beat of Sunset's hooves were muffled by the carpet as she walked down the length of the throne room and out of the smaller doors at the back into the maze of corridors that formed the palace. A maze, to someone less familiar with them than Sunset, or to someone for whom this wasn't all in their head and existing entirely at their whim.

Perhaps because it was all in Sunset's mind, it didn't take very long to get where she wanted to go, passing through the empty corridors with their walls of gleaming marble and coming swiftly on to a doorless archway, with only a red velvet curtain blocking it.

Sunset hesitated, silent, waiting. She sighed, and her horn flared with a bright green light as she brushed the curtain aside and stepped out onto the marble balcony.

Princess Celestia was waiting for her, sat upon the centre of the platform, her long and luscious mane blowing in the gentle breeze that Sunset's imagination conjured.

The sky was dark. In Sunset's mind, the sky was bright and blue and cloudless, but that had not communicated itself, for the sky was black; not night black, more like a stormy darkness, a cloud obscuring the light. Probably another sign of the approaching end, like the vibrations beneath her hooves.

It didn't matter, because Celestia was the light; memory made her radiant as the sun, a shining figure of lustrous pearl, and her mane and tail were luminous. She looked around, a soft smile upon her gentle face. "Welcome home, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset felt tears pricking at the corners of her dry eyes. "Thank you, Princess," she managed to stammer out, her voice choked and hoarse. She approached, each step carrying her closer until she was standing right beside the princess of the sun, looking up into her eyes of royal purple. "Princess, I…" She trailed off, unsure of how to say it. "I… I'm dying."

The world shook. All the spires of gleaming Canterlot spread out around them swayed and trembled.

Princess Celestia was silent for a moment. "Is that your choice?" she asked.

"Yes," Sunset replied. "And probably the best choice I ever made."

Princess Celestia did not reply, though her expression was solemn and touched with melancholy.

Sunset continued. "At first, I wanted to cover myself in glory," she said, "but even when all I wanted to do was help people… I couldn't. I just ended up making everything worse."

"Sometimes, our best intentions go awry," Princess Celestia reminded her, "but that does not change the fact that we have good intent."

"That's just the thing," Sunset confessed. "I… I'm not even sure how good my intentions were really." She screwed up her eyes tight shut. "All I wanted was to share my life with them."

She felt the feathers draping around her body, feathers softer than the finest silks in Mistral, warmer than the cosiest rooms in Atlas, gentler than Flash's most tender touch; feathers embracing her, drawing her close, pressing her against Celestia's body as the princess arched her neck over Sunset's and nuzzled her with her cheek.

"My poor little sunbeam," Princess Celestia whispered into her ear. "For all that you have suffered, I am so sorry."

Sunset did not reply at once. She simply remained, relishing the warmth and comfort of Celestia's embrace. "Will… will you stay with me, until the end?"

"Oh, Sunset, of course I will," Princess Celestia replied. She paused. "I know that you are a little old for it now, but… would you like me to read to you?"

Sunset nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I'd like that."

"Very well then," Celestia said, and her voice was as soothing as a cool wind on a hot day. Sunset felt but, with her eyes closed did not see, Celestia pull her head away from Sunset. "A story of Clover the Clever? They were always your favourites, as I recall."

Sunset opened her eyes, looked up at the princess, and smiled. "Yes, please."

Celestia nodded, a smile upon her face. Her horn glowed golden as the sun as a book which had appeared from somewhere rose – similarly illuminated in gold – up towards her face. She cleared her throat. "The story of Clover the Clever and-"

"So this is it? You're just going to sit there and give up?"

Celestia's wing withdrew, allowing Sunset to turn her head around and behold of the source of the familiar voice. Sunset's eyes widened. "Amber?"

Amber was much taller than Sunset's pony self would have been, even standing, and she cast a shadow across the marble balcony. Just as when she had appeared to Sunset before the attempt upon the Pass of the Raven, she had no scars upon her face, although her clothing was familiar to when Sunset had known her – or known a part of her, at least. Her expression was grave, and she could not – perhaps she did not wish to – hide the disapproval on her face as she regarded Sunset.

"Hello, Sunset," she said. "I wish that our meetings were under better circumstances."

Sunset climbed onto her hooves, turning around to face Amber directly. It felt strange having to look up at her like this. "It… it's really you, isn't it? You weren't conjured by my mind."

"Once a Fall Maiden, always a Fall Maiden," Amber murmured. "Yes, this is really me."

"But why?"

"You're sitting here waiting to die; why do you think?!" Amber snapped. "You made me a promise, Sunset. I walked into your dream, and we stood beneath the shadow of the mountains, and you made me a promise. You promised that you would find Uncle Ozpin and protect him from false friends and from enemies alike. Or does the word of an Equestrian gentlemare mean nothing now?"

"Use a little less pepper ere you chide me again!" Sunset growled. She sighed and looked down at her hooves where they rested upon the marble floor of the balcony. "I… I'm sorry, I just… I know that what I've done, or at least what I'm doing, must seem like a betrayal-"

"Because it is," Amber declared.

"If that is so, then it is oathbreaking for the best!" Sunset cried. "I have…" She felt tears beginning to well in her eyes again. "I would call myself a harbinger of ill fortune, but that would ignore the role my own decisions have played in these disasters."

"'Disasters'?" Amber replied. "'Ill fortune'? Is that what you think? Is that truly what you believe? Is that how you sum up all your efforts and your struggles? Or is that what you have been told to believe?"

"It is what they say," Sunset moaned.

"Where? Here?" Amber asked. "Of course the conjurations of your psyche love you not, for you do not love yourself. Where are your wings, Sunset?"

Sunset glanced behind her. Her flanks were uninterrupted amber coat, as they had ever been. "I… cannot imagine them."

"Can you not?" Amber asked. "After so many years of dreaming of the day you would attain them?"

Sunset cringed at the reminder of her youthful arrogance. "My wings were broken ere I gained them."

Amber was silent a moment before she took two quick steps forward in approach, kneeling down before Sunset and gently holding out her hand. Sunset stood still, neither speaking nor shying away, as Amber placed her palm on Sunset's cheek and gently stroked it.

"I've never seen anything quite like you," Amber whispered. "You are… incredible."

The corner of Sunset's lip twitched upwards. "I wish I had the enthusiasm to be flattered by that," she confessed.

"Oh, Sunset," Amber murmured. "You are so much more than you have let yourself believe."

"Ruby told me that she wished we two had never met," Sunset said. "That… that was not a conjuration of my mind; that happened. If I do not love myself, it is because there is nothing to love."

"Ruby speaks with more cruelty than she intends, and will realise it-"

"So I've been told," Sunset cut her off. "I am not so sure."

"And so, because of some hard words thrown in anger, you will give up?" Amber demanded, pulling her hand away. "Surrender your body and your magic to an invader? Die?"

"Why not, when living is such torment?!" Sunset yelled, as tears stung the corners of her wide green eyes. "Why must I endure through all the sorrow and the suffering? Why must I keep pushing onwards through endless mud and blood, accomplishing nothing? Why must I live for cold and unforgiving duty? Why can I not rest, as you are permitted to rest, and bring an end to mistakes and all their consequences?"

Amber was silent for a moment. Her eyes glanced down towards the ground. "You're right," she said softly. "I am at rest. I can see how that would make me more fortunate than you. Believe me, I know what you have suffered. I have watched you and Cinder ever since you freed the better half of me from her soul. I know that it must seem a pleasant option. But I am dead, Sunset; I will never meet anyone new who is not or was not the Fall Maiden; I have my cottage with Dove, but I will never fill it with children as I once dreamed of; I will never read any new books or learn any new songs; I am… preserved in amber," – she let out a little chuckle – "just as you see me now. It is an existence free from fear and pain and suffering, and thus, it is not unpleasant, but it is not living."

Sunset looked away. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't tell you that for sympathy."

"You have it nonetheless; it is my-"

"Nor did I tell you that so you might flagellate yourself yet further!" Amber cried, rising to her feet. "I told you that because… because you must live, Sunset."

"Live so that I may be hated by those I love?"

"Live so that you may change your fortunes and regain your place in the hearts of them that love you," Amber replied. "Death will only freeze your situation, Sunset; only by living can you improve it. And besides, your fears are all within yourself, not in the world; Cinder and Pyrrha, Fall Maidens past and present, love you well, and even Ruby I’m certain does not hate you. The only person who does not love you is yourself.”

“Even if that were true…” Sunset shook her head. "I'm tired, Amber."

"You have forgotten who you are," Amber told her.

Sunset shook her head. "I know who I am; I'm the one who ruined everything."

Amber was silent for a moment. "Will you come with me?"

Sunset hesitated. Then she glanced at Princess Celestia, still seated, looking out over the city, seeming to pay no attention to Amber whatsoever. "Princess, would you mind if we postponed the story until another time?" If we are granted time.

Princess Celestia smiled. "Of course, Sunset. I'll be here if you need me, waiting for you."

Sunset bowed her head. "Thank you, Princess." She looked up at Amber. "Lead on."

Amber turned away, and Sunset followed. And as Sunset followed, she was transformed again, no pony now but a human again, walking on two long legs that swayed uncontrollably as the world shook all around her.

Amber did not seem troubled by the vibrations, but as Sunset tumbled and collided with a column, clinging to it for support, she turned and said, "We don't have much time. Come on, Sunset, this way."

Sunset followed, forced to quicken her pace as Amber did likewise, until the late Fall Maiden had brought her back to the throne room, the place she had appeared in this palace.

Except it was not quite the same. The carpet, dais, throne, and columns were all present and accounted for, but the stained glass windows that lined both sides of the colonnade had been replaced with other images – images that Sunset found she recognised, even through the stylized representations in the windows: Amber herself, rising out of her glass coffin, looking like a creature of magic, radiant and aglow; Cinder, rescued from Salem's malign influence; Sunset herself, blazing with magic, destroying the grimm, Sunset couldn't tell whether it was meant to be Vale or King's Camp; Blake, wearing the uniform of Atlas Academy; Jaune defying Cardin, defying Sunset; Professor Ozpin writing to Princess Celestia; Adam dead, and his menace ended.

"You did all this," Amber reminded her. "These are the deeds of Sunset Shimmer, or had you forgotten?"

Sunset stared at them, her eyes flickering from one window to the next, bouncing across the room and then back again. "Blake earned her place in Atlas; I didn't do that."

"Blake might have died by the hand of Rainbow Dash if it wasn't for you, or else languished in a Valish prison cell. You found Blake and helped her, just as you helped Jaune, just as you restored Uncle Ozpin's hope, just as you saved me-"

"My motives then were never selfless."

"Whose motives are always selfless?" Amber asked. "Some people's motivations never are, but that does not make them monstrous. My motivations for coming here to help you are not selfless; I am not here solely for your benefit, but because I want you to stop moping around and help Uncle Ozpin, but that does not make me wicked, I hope, or change the fact that my advice is good."

“I don’t deserve to stand by Professor Ozpin’s side,” Sunset moaned. "He died without-"

"Because of you, he will be reborn with his faith renewed," Amber insisted.

“I… I suppose I have been useful, I suppose that I’ve tried to help where I could, but…” Sunset hesitated. "What… what would have happened if… if I had not been there? Could Ruby still be right, and things would have gone better without me around?"

Amber shook her head. "No one is ever given any story but their own, Sunset," she said. "But ask yourself, who could have saved Cinder except you? Who could have brought me back except you? Who could have destroyed the grimm before the walls of Vale, or at King's Camp?"

Sunset frowned. “Well, when you put it like that… no one that I can think of. But all the same, I-"

"Have made mistakes; of course you have," Amber allowed. "But not every loss in this war must fall upon your shoulders; Uncle Ozpin, Yang, even me, we all made choices, and those choices led us to our ends as much or more as anything you did. You cannot let others place the blame for all the evils of the world upon your back; still less should you do it to yourself. Yes, you've made mistakes, but only by living will you get the chance to make them right."

"Or make more of them."

"Perhaps," Amber whispered. "But at least you'll be there, fighting alongside those who mean everything to you. Isn't that what you want?"

"I don't know what I want any more."

"Yes, you do," Amber declared. "You've put it away because you were ashamed, because you felt unworthy, just as you were unworthy of your friends. You're hiding your desires, just as you hid your desire for friendship, love, and acceptance, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't there. Even when you were pretending that you could get by just fine on your own, it wasn't true, and your heart opened when it got the chance. Now, you hide your desires for fame and glory-"

"That's not who I am anymore,” Sunset said quickly, before she could finish.

"Then Sunset Shimmer is already dead," Amber replied. "Who stands before me?"

Sunset did not reply.

"Who stands before me?" Amber repeated. "And what does she want?"

“I’m Sunset Shimmer,” Sunset whispered. “Truly, I am, but I… I have been humbled, and so I will be humble all my days.”

“Wasn’t it you who said that we have nothing left once we surrender our pride?”

“Are you sure it’s only Dawn who’s been raiding my memories?” Sunset asked.

Amber chuckled. “There is no shame in seeking after renown,” she said. “Do not the oldest written tales venerate those who fought for no cause but reputation?”

“Those old Mistralian heroes aren’t exactly paragons.”

“Neither are you,” Amber said bluntly. “But the world is not divided between paragons and monsters.”

“I know it well enough,” Sunset declared. “But all the same…”

“All the same, to speak true, your desire for renown was not the cause of your poor choices.”

Sunset laughed bitterly. “No,” she admitted. “That was my selfishness and the fact that I loved not wisely but too well.”

"No one is told any story but their own," Amber repeated. "I cannot tell you what might have been had you been elsewhere, done otherwise. I cannot tell you who Ruby would have partnered with in the Emerald Forest instead of you, nor what would have been my fate absent your intervention. But I have a gift of foresight; I don't know where it came from, perhaps I inherited it from my parents, or perhaps I was blessed by the gods. It is not a power of the Fall Maiden, that much I know. I can see things, though I am not always blessed to understand the things I see. And yet it is clear enough that I see many battles more ahead, great and terrible encounters with the fates of thrones and kingdoms at the hazard. And I see your friends in the midst of all these battles: Pyrrha, Jaune, Cinder, Blake. All there, all fighting alongside Uncle Ozpin. All of them standing against the darkness. Will they stand alone?"

Sunset hesitated. Put like that, it seemed so obvious; of course the battles would continue. Of course her friends would fight on; they probably already did. They fought on without her now, but only because they were separated by distance and oceans. In future, they would fight alone because she had made the choice to abandon them, to leave them behind, to put her rest above their lives and the lives of all others.

Is it not rank arrogance to assume they will be dead without my help?

Is it not foolishness in the extreme to pretend that there is no chance that I could save them if I were to join them?

If I give up my body, if I allow myself to die, if I become a part of Dawn Starfall, then I turn my back on Pyrrha, Blake, Cinder, Jaune, on all of them. I do not say that I abandon them to their death, but certainly, I leave them to the risk of death amidst all the hazards of the battlefield.

That is not the way of a huntress, even a weary one.

So, am I a huntress still?

She had made no oaths, and it was likely that she would never get the chance to do so. She had never completed her curriculum at Beacon, and she would never get the chance to do that either.

But she had resolved, in that prison cell, to live as a huntress; she had given Amber her word that she would guard Professor Ozpin in his new and vulnerable state.

And she had been prepared to abandon that, and why? Because Dawn said that it was for the best? Because she hated herself? Because she believed that the phantoms in her mind that chided her with such relentless wrath were the same as the real people?

Because she was tired? What kind of a lame excuse was that? Ruby had cause to quit the battle – she had found her family and a new place in the world – but Sunset? Sunset had nothing, but… nothing but head games and honeyed words and a weight she wished to be rid of.

More selfishness. Selfishness and stupidity, what is worse – and more demeaning. I’m such an idiot.

An idiot who will have to make nice with the other Sunset and with Dawn so that they continue to take care of Ruby after I’m gone.

And maybe make them something to defend Freeport with, as well, since they seem to feel in such need of it.

"Salem is on the move," Amber continued, before Sunset could concede to her earlier point or ask for her advice on how to deal with her other self.. "Vale was the first step but not the last. She stretches out the tendrils of her darkness across the world. Mistral, Atlas, everywhere will feel the touch of it ere long."

"Do you see so?"

"I know as much," Amber replied. "This is not the war that Uncle Ozpin fought for so long. This war will shake the heavens themselves and make of those who fight in it heroes to stand alongside the immortal names of the Mistraliad in song and story."

Sunset stuck her hands into her pockets. She would be lying if she said that the notion wasn’t tempting; she would be lying in the same way that she’d been lying to herself. She had done her best to burn all such ambitions out of herself, and they had burned… but when a fire rages through the forest, the ash simply fertilises the soil, waiting for the moment when new green shoots shall spring forth out of the earth. "When I was a girl in Equestria," she said. "When I was a filly, I should say, I… even when I dreamed of becoming a princess, I was… I was haunted by a secret fear that even if my dreams came true, even if my destiny was fulfilled, then… what need would a realm that had Princess Celestia have of Princess Sunset Shimmer? I feared to be a mere ornament with wings and crown."

"You are no ornament here," Amber told her. "You are the Grimmbane, you are the hero who saves heroes. You are Sunset Shimmer, and the world is threatened by a great evil. This is the hour for heroes if ever there was one. Will you turn away from the gravest of perils and the greatest of opportunities alike?"

"No!" Sunset cried. "Because I am Sunset Shimmer, and I will neither turn from my friends nor from my destiny. I will help them all, not as I did before but better, and I will protect Professor Ozpin as I swore to do, and I will redeem my reputation. In fact, I will do more than that; I will earn so many honours in these wars that the Breach and all my faults in Vale will be forgotten, buried beneath the gleaming treasures of reputation I shall win."

Amber smiled. "Now, Sunset Shimmer stands before me once again. We don't have much time-"

Sunset just about managed to keep her feet as the world shook once more. "I can imagine."

"No, not just that," Amber said. "Cinder and Ruby are in grave danger."

"What?" Sunset cried. "What kind of grave danger? Have you seen something?"

"Once a Fall Maiden, always a Fall Maiden," Amber reminded her. "That applies to Cinder too. I can keep an eye on her, just as on you, and I can see her peril. The Sun Queen has betrayed you and made a bargain with the servants of Salem; Ruby is to be put to death, and Cinder will be taken back to the dark fortress to be punished for her treachery."

Sunset's mouth hung open for a moment. "That little…" She was going to string the other Sunset up by her own guts from the rafters, and that was nothing compared to what she was going to do to Dawn. "And you!" she snapped. "You could have opened with that!"

"You had to want to come back," Amber told her. "Else you would have felt as empty as you did before and been just as vulnerable as you were to Dawn. Also, one more thing… they don’t remember you right now."

“WHAT?” Sunset shouted.

“I think they must have been made to forget somehow, but I don’t know how,” Amber explained. “I just know that Cinder suddenly forgot, and so did everyone else.”

“Well, isn’t that just… ugh,” Sunset groaned. “Okay. Never mind. I’ll deal with that… later. After I’ve wrung their necks to get them to tell me how they did it. In the meantime, let’s go save Ruby. Again.”

Doorways

Doorways

Her dad was asleep in the next cell; he groaned occasionally as he lay on the floor, twitching in pain from the injuries that Tyrian had dealt him. Cardin had draped his uniform coat over Taiyang to serve as a blanket, the best they could do in the circumstances. Ruby hoped that it helped.

Torchwick was also asleep, or trying to sleep; that’s what it looked like anyway. It was hard to say for sure because it was so dark in here, but it seemed to Ruby’s eyes that he was lying down. Cardin was pacing up and down in front of the wooden door of their cell, while Cinder stood as still as glass, staring into the darkness, although what she was looking at, Ruby had no idea.

Lyra sat with her back against the wall, humming softly to herself; she was so quiet that Ruby couldn’t properly make out the tune.

Ruby was sitting down herself, sat down with her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees.

She felt so stupid. She had trusted Sunsprite; she had thought that just because they were family, it meant that Sunsprite would be a good person, someone she could rely on.

Someone to take Yang’s place.

She felt stupid and vile. How could she have thought that anyone could replace her sister like that? What kind of person felt like that?

But she had been so lonely, there hadn’t been anyone that she could rely on, and she just wanted… she just wanted a family again. Was that really so wrong? Was that really something that she deserved to be punished for?

It certainly wasn’t something that anyone else deserved to be punished for.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“This isn’t your fault,” Cinder growled. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?” Ruby asked. “But you were right-”

“And I should have told you all that, instead of rushing off to confront my enemies alone,” Cinder replied. “It was rash and heedless and may have forced their hand to act against us sooner than they would have otherwise. I… I am too used to being Cinder Fall, to fighting alone, to… I am not used to having any consideration for others.”

“This is no one’s fault but the people who put us down here,” Cardin grunted. “They were already planning to betray us; it doesn’t matter if the timetable moved up a little bit, their plans didn’t materially alter. This is their fault, not ours.”

“I can’t believe Bon Bon just joined them,” Lyra lamented.

“Can’t you?” Cinder asked. “I can. It is her natural side, after all.”

“I don’t believe it,” Lyra declared. “Bon Bon isn’t a bad person; she might have made a couple of bad choices, sure, but she’s not evil or anything.”

“Her actions suggest otherwise.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lyra snapped.

Cinder chuckled. “True enough, I have little grounds to speak in this, but… if the boot fits, as they say.”

“No,” Lyra repeated. “No, there’s something else going on here.”

“Like what?” Cardin asked.

Lyra was silent a moment. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just know that Bon Bon wouldn’t just leave us like this. She wouldn’t leave me. She’s not Sami, or even Jack. Where is Jack, anyway?”

“Dead, most likely,” Cinder declared. “Either Sami or Tyrian probably killed him; it is in both their natures. I will admit that Bon Bon is not a sadist as they are – she does not revel in the act of violence – but she was willing to do my work, without question, for some time. Not everyone would have taken such a road.”

“Can you people keep it down?” Torchwick demanded. “I’m trying to sleep here.”

Cinder snorted. “Why, when you may soon be sleeping forever?”

“Or sleeping no more, depending on how you look at it,” Torchwick replied. “Personally, I’ve never thought of dying as being much of a rest.”

“No?” Cinder asked.

“Nah,” Torchwick said. “It ain’t a rest if you can’t wake up from it feeling better, right?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “Somewhat to my surprise, that makes a degree of sense.”

“Do you really think this is it?” Lyra asked, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “Do you think that we’re… going to die?”

Once more, Cinder fell into a temporary silence. “No,” she said.

“Really?” Ruby said. “Is that really what you think?”

“Don’t tell me that you, of all people, have lost hope, Ruby Rose,” Cinder said, and she sounded almost amused by the idea. “If that is so, then we are truly lost.”

“Thanks for putting it like that; I feel a lot better,” Torchwick muttered.

“You haven’t, have you, Ruby?” Lyra asked. “Lost hope, I mean? You haven’t given up, even if everyone else has?”

Ruby knew that she was supposed to deny it; she was supposed to say of course not, supposed to deny any such thing. But she just didn’t have the energy to tell the lie. She bowed her head, so that instead of her chin resting on her knees, it was her forehead. “I don’t know what there is to hope for any more,” she whispered into the darkness. “There’s nothing left to believe in.”

“We believe in ourselves,” Cinder said. “We must believe in ourselves, for no one else will believe in us, otherwise or in spite. For myself, I have no intention of dying in this fleapit.”

“Do our enemies care what you intend?” Cardin asked.

“I have never cared for the intentions of my enemies; I don’t intend to start now,” Cinder said sharply.

“And then what?” Ruby demanded. “We get out of this cell – maybe we even get out of the city – and then… then what?”

“The goal remains the same, to reach Ozpin in Anima and settle with Lionheart,” declared Cardin.

“Why?” Ruby asked. “We can’t stop Salem, Professor Ozpin can’t stop Salem, and even if he could…”

Cinder waited a moment for her to finish. “Even if he could, what?”

Ruby closed her eyes. “The world is so cruel,” she whispered. “Everyone is so terrible; they lie and cheat and-”

“And those are just my good points,” Torchwick said.

“Quiet!” Cardin snapped.

“And Professor Ozpin, he’s immortal,” Ruby continued, ignoring Torchwick. “Which means that he’s seen so much, so much of the worst of us. I wonder… do you think that there have ever been times when he’s looked at this world and just turned away in shame?”

Silence descended upon the dungeons.

“Well, that’s a cheery thing for a kid to say, isn’t it?” Torchwick asked.

“I’m not a kid,” Ruby snapped.

“Sure you are; you’re just a kid who listens to death metal and dresses in black and thinks that makes her mature,” Torchwick opined. “I’ll tell you something, kiddo: yes, the world sucks a lot of the time. But you know what? It’s not all bad, and if you take a moment to think about it… you find the bad stuff outweighs the good: good food, nice cigars… the look in her eyes that says she’ll stick with you through thick and thin.”

“Is Roman Torchwick getting sentimental?” Cinder asked.

“You were the one who told me to drop the act,” Torchwick reminded her.

“Yes, but I didn’t expect that you would.”

“Too bad, toots, you’re stuck with this Roman Torchwick now,” Torchwicks said with wicked glee ringing in his voice. “The kind who isn’t afraid to say that he loves living.”

“Says the man who tried to burn down the world,” Cardin muttered.

“You got me there, I guess, big guy,” Torchwick admitted. “But that just proves my point: I didn’t have it in me to give my life for the greater good because I love living too much, because I had something to live for… and someone. And so I was ready to do what I had to do to survive, and to keep a little piece of the world alive for Neo too.” He paused. “That’s what it means to be a father, I guess. Family first.”

“That’s not what being a parent means,” Ruby snapped. “That’s just more of the selfishness that made the world what it is today.”

Torchwick snorted. “Agree to disagree, Little Red.”

“Fine,” Ruby murmured.

Once more, a silence fell amongst the assembled prisoners. Nobody said anything, not even as the orange light of a flickering torch began to shine, illuminating the wall behind the staircase leading down into the dungeon. Ruby couldn’t see who it was coming, but she could see their light, dancing upon the cold stone wall, until she could see the torch itself, held in the hands of Sunsprite Rose as she, followed by a pair of Rangers, descended into the darkness to stand before their cells.

An almost bestial growl rose from Cinder’s throat. “You.”

Sunsprite paid her no notice. The gaze of her single eye was fixed on Ruby. “How is your father?”

“Why do you care?” Ruby asked.

“I did not want this,” Sunsprite said.

“Why should I believe that?” Ruby demanded.

“Because I have never lied to you,” Sunsprite said. “Open the cell.”

“Why?” Cinder snapped, as one of the Rangers stepped forward, keys rattling in her hands.

Still, Sunsprite did not deign to answer her, nor even give a sign that she had heard what Cinder said. She was silent, looking at Ruby when she was not obscured by the Ranger to who unlocked the padlock, pulled out the chain, and pulled open the heavy wooden door.

“Come with me,” Sunsprite said.

“Where are you taking her?” Cinder snarled. She slammed her shackled hands heavily against the wooden bars. “Answer me!”

Sunsprite glanced at her, but the only thing she said was, “Ruby, it’s time.”

Ruby didn’t need to have it explained to her what it was time for. She could guess easily enough. She understood, and she… she wasn’t that troubled by it. If there was no way out, then… then at least she would be with Mom and Yang again.

At least she would see them soon.

And what more did she have to hope for, really? A life of empty struggle, devoid of hope or enthusiasm? To watch, as if from the other side of a pane of sound-proofed glass, Jaune and Pyrrha live their lives in happiness? To watch them laugh, and love, perhaps even wed, while she grew ever more grey and desolate, a person in whom no love would take root, no joy would grow? Or worse, to watch them waste their lives in futile attempts to make happy one who was beyond all happiness?

To fight on, until death claimed her as it had claimed so many heroes before her? If that was the sum total of her life, then why not die now rather than late?

There must be times when Ozpin, immortal as he was, looked at the state of the world and all its evils and turned away in shame; as she stood up and looked into her cousin’s face, she felt a lot like turning away herself.

A moan from her father drew her eyes away from Sunsprite. She sought her father in the gloom, but could not see him clearly.

“Tell Dad…” Ruby trailed off. “Tell him… tell him-”

“Tell him yourself,” Cinder growled.

Ruby frowned, but said nothing more. There was nothing more to say. She turned away from them all and fixed her eyes once more on Sunsprite as she stepped out of her cell.

Sunsprite nodded approvingly. “Good girl. Let’s go.”

She turned away, her yellow cloak swirling around her. Ruby followed, her own cloak of red – which they had not taken away from her – trailing out behind her as he kept pace almost alongside her cousin, only a step behind, with the two Rangers following after as they walked up the stairs and through the stone corridors of the Tower of the Sun.

“Sunsprite,” Ruby murmured. “Can I… can I ask you something?”

“You may ask,” Sunsprite said. “I do not promise an answer.”

“Have you told Grandpa about this?”

Sunsprite was silent for a moment. “No,” she answered tersely.

“Has he… has he asked about me?”

Again, it took Sunsprite a little while to answer. “He did wonder at your not visiting him.”

“What did youhe say?”

“I said that you had volunteered to go out on a ranging, to show your commitment to Freeport,” Sunsprite informed her. “Later, I shall tell him that the ranging returned without you, that you had perished in an unexpected encounter with some grimm.”

“Right,” Ruby murmured. “That… that’s probably for the best.”

Sunsprite was silent for a few seconds, her boots tapping upon the stone floor. Then, suddenly, she stopped. “I do not want this,” she said. “Do you believe me?”

“Does it matter whether I believe you or not?”

“Only to me,” Sunsprite admitted.

Ruby didn’t reply to that; instead, she said, “Can I ask you something else?”

“If you wish.”

“How will it… how?” Ruby asked, in a voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper.

“Publicly, before the warriors and the clan chiefs,” Sunsprite said, her voice nearly as soft and quiet as Ruby’s. “We will both be given a sword. We will fight under the eyes of the Queen… and I will defeat you.”

“What if you don’t?” Ruby asked.

Sunsprite turned around, looking down on Ruby. “It is said by those who have braved the journey, that over the mountains, huntresses live by a code, is that so?”

Ruby looked up into her cousin’s single silver eye. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yeah, I suppose we do have something that you could call a code.”

“And are you a huntress?” Sunsprite asked.

“Not technically, I never got my license or anything, but…” Ruby trailed off, thinking. Was she a huntress? Did she feel like a huntress? What did it even mean to feel like a huntress? She felt as though she would have known the answer to that once, but not any more. “I don’t know. Why?”

“Because if you are a huntress, if you are true to their code, if you meant what you have said to me,” Sunsprite said, “then you will die.”

Ruby stared at her silently. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. “You want me to just let you kill me?”

“The Queen has betrayed you, I concede that,” Sunsprite said. “I will not pretend that it was otherwise. I have betrayed you too, and all I can do is say that we had good reason: there is a horde of grimm not far beyond the walls, and it will be unleashed on Freeport unless the envoy of your enemy is placated with your death.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “I… I led them here?”

“You did,” Sunsprite said, and though the substance of her words was harsh, her tone was not unkind. “When we talked of the Breach, you told me that you would rather have died than put Vale in danger through your survival. Do you still believe that?”

Ruby nodded her head. “I do.”

“Then why should your survival be worth more than that of Freeport and all who dwell within these walls?” Sunsprite asked.

Ruby closed her eyes. She thought about her grandfather, old and blind and infirm, sick and ailing and vulnerable; if the grimm breached the defences, then they would tear him to pieces. She thought about Smolder and Ember and Garble; she thought about Yona, about her uncle, her parents and her grandparents, her little brother and sister; once more, they would huddle beneath the wagon as they had at King’s Camp, but this time, there would be no inexplicable miracle from heaven to deliver them. They would all die.

Or they would all survive, for the cost of a handful of lives.

“Why should your survival be worth more than that of Freeport and all who dwell within these walls?”

“It shouldn’t,” she said. “I… I understand. I will do what must be done.”

Sunsprite nodded her head, a short and awkward gesture. She raised her hand, hesitated, and then finally clasped Ruby’s shoulder warmly. “You are well worthy of your eyes and of the name of Rose,” she declared. “I truly regret that we did not have more time together.”

“Me too,” Ruby whispered.

Mom, Yang, wait for me.

For a moment, they stood in silence, lingering in the corridor, before Sunsprite awkwardly turned away. “It… it’s this way,” she said. “Come on.”

She led Ruby to a pair of large but crudely made double doors; the original doors must have been ruined a long time ago, because these doors were just bits of wood cobbled haphazardly together, forming a pair of barriers in the doorway. Nevertheless, they swung open easily enough as Sunsprite pushed them open, admitting a blaze of bright light into the dark corridor.

And yet, it would be a different kind of light into which I’ll walk soon enough, once I pass that threshold.

The two Rangers escorting them halted, but Ruby didn’t need them to push her onwards as she followed her cousin through the doorway into a vast cavernous pit. The floor was covered in sand, the walls that surrounded the ring were initially built of stone, and hung about with a variety of weapons: swords of various shapes, sizes and degrees of quality of make; axes crude and well-crafted, hammers, knives, spears. No guns and no sign of her Crescent Rose anywhere.

It was a pity. She didn’t want to fight, but she would have liked to die with her precious baby in hand.

Above the pit, the stone walls gave way to mesh wire fencing, and to levels upon which people watched, looking down upon the pit and those who stepped into it from above. There were some who looked like Rangers of Freeport, horned faunus with tattoos who looked like they might belong to the Fall Forest Clan like Sami, others dressed in clothing crude and colourful that Ruby did not recognise, and there were warriors of the Frost Mountain and Summer Fire Clans; she spotted Ember, Garble, and Prince Rutherford all looking down upon her, surrounded by their people.

Prince Rutherford was scowling, while Ember gave Ruby a grave nod as their eyes met.

Some of the watchers hooted and hollered as the two Roses entered the arena, while others seemed to shout at them – or at someone – in disapproval, shaking their heads and fists alike. It all formed a clamorous tumult that made it impossible for Ruby to make out any words that were being said.

High above, higher than the other watchers, and with no wire but only distance separating them from the combatants, the Sun Queen sat enthroned, the light of the torches flickering upon her golden mask, her robes gathered around her, attended by guards and by her officers… and by someone that Ruby didn’t recognise, a pony faunus with both ears and tail. Her mane was like fire, streaks of crimson and gold that seemed to flicker with the way her hair curled, and her eyes were bright green. She stood by the Queen’s side, her hands clasped behind her back, not looking at Ruby.

And with the royal party, too, stood Tyrian; he was standing on the edge of the raised dais, his hands clasped together, leaning forward expectantly.

Sami and Bon Bon stood behind him, far back, against the wall; they seemed to be watching one another as much as they were looking at Ruby and Sunsprite.

Ruby walked into the centre of the pit and then stopped, expectant. She looked at Sunsprite but didn’t say anything; she wasn’t sure that her cousin could have heard anything she said.

Sunsprite didn’t try and make herself heard either, although she did turn and approach Ruby, but not to kill her, only to uncuff her. The shackles fell to the sand beneath with a solid thump, but Ruby did not reactivate her aura.

What would have been the point of that?

Sunsprite stepped back and drew her sword, but made no move to use it.

Still, the clamour filled the cavernous chamber, descending in waves to the pit beneath and ascending in gusts to the ceiling high above.

The Sun Queen rose from her throne, and as she stood, she raised her hands above her head. “Peace!” she cried. “Peace, friends and allies of Freeport, I pray you quiet!”

The sounds of the crowd subsided, like a storm dying down, and peace did descend upon the packed assembly.

“All of you know,” the Sun Queen said, “that since I took the throne here in Freeport, I have been tireless in my work to make this city safe, a place where we may gather, live, work, and build a nation as great as any that currently exists in Remnant. All of you know that I am remorseless in my opposition to any who threaten the survival of this place, the destruction of this symbol of harmony and cooperation that we have made together. All of you know that I will not hesitate to punish treachery, if I find that it threatens the precious jewel that we have in our hands. You are of Freeport, or you are an enemy of Freeport, and the enemies of Freeport will pay with their lives!

“The bell has sounded. You know why you are here. What you may not know is how much this pains me. Believe me, my people, my friends, my allies, my good and faithful subjects, I take no joy in this. If I could, I would sooner pluck out my own heart than bear witness to this.

“But that would serve Freeport not at all. That would protect Freeport not at all.

“Ruby Rose, you have brought evil and danger to Freeport, do you deny it?”

Ruby swallowed. “No,” she confessed. “No, I don’t deny it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger.”

“Nevertheless, danger has followed you,” the Sun Queen declared. “As has your cousin, Sunsprite Rose.”

A cry of shock seemed to rise up from every throat, not just from Ruby and from Sunsprite but from everyone watching too. Even Bon Bon looked surprised, although the rest of the Sun Queen’s party did not.

“My Queen?” Sunsprite asked, her mouth forming an O of shock.

“What does this mean?” Ember demanded. “Sunsprite is a Ranger and a loyal servant of Freeport!”

“Sunsprite fight alongside Frost Mountain Clan!” Prince Rutherford bellowed. “Sunsprite fight for Sun Queen!”

“It is true; I do not deny it,” the Sun Queen confessed. “Sunsprite has pledged herself into my service and served me faithfully. Yet Freeport is worth more than any one life, even the life of a valued and faithful servant. Sunsprite, for the greater good of our kingdom of Estmorland, your life is forfeit alongside your cousin.”

As shouting rose from the crowd once more, the Sun Queen shouted to make herself heard. “Let this stand as a lesson of what I will do for you!” she yelled. “Let this be an example of what suffering I will endure for this, our kingdom, that I shall give up one who is dear to me for its sake and survival. I will sacrifice anything for your sake! Look on this and remember that!”

“Wait!” Ruby cried. “You can kill me if you want to, but Sunsprite didn’t do anything! Why are you punishing her because of something I did?”

The Sun Queen looked down on her, the eye-holes in her mask seeming black and pitiless, and said nothing.

“Please?!” Ruby begged. “Please, this isn’t anything to do with Sunsprite. She has her grandfather to take care of. Please, spare her life. She’s not a part of this.” She looked at Tyrian. “She’s not your enemy.”

Tyrian cackled. “How noble. She was willing to kill you, but now you plead for her life.”

“She doesn’t deserve to die,” Ruby said. “Not like I do.”

I stopped Twilight from opening the gate, I got Yang killed. This is what I deserve, but Sunsprite? She doesn’t deserve any of this. Why does she have to die?

“She has silver eyes,” Tyrian said.

“So?” Ruby demanded. To the Sun Queen she said, “You can’t trust him! He’s evil! You can’t listen to him when he tells you to kill your friend!”

“So a loyal retainer dies upon the word of a villain?” Ember shouted. “Who is this man who has the power of life and death over those who pledge their faith to you, O Queen? Are we all under the threat of this rogue and his enmity?”

“Keep talking, and you may find out,” Tyrian growled.

“My decision is made!” the Sun Queen shouted. “My word is given! Sunsprite, begin!”

“Wait-“ Ruby began to cry.

“Ruby,” Sunsprite said. “That’s enough.”

Ruby gasped. “You… but…”

“I am at the service of the Sun Queen,” Sunsprite declared. “My life is hers to take, if she wishes.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “You can’t just-”

“I am many things, some of them bad, but I am not a hypocrite, I hope,” Sunsprite said. “I told you it was better for you to die than Freeport suffer. The same applies to me. I am but one life.” She hesitated, then took a step forward, reversing her blade and balancing it upon her forearm as she pointed the hilt towards Ruby. “And for that reason, I ask you to kill me.”

“What?” Ruby yelled.

“If I must die, then I would rather die without my cousin’s blood upon my hands,” Sunsprite said.

Ruby stared at her silently, her mouth hanging open. All around her, people were shouting, their words lost in the press of people crying out, everything dissolving into a mass of excited noise, but Ruby alone said nothing.

In all the clamour, Sunsprite’s words cut through. “I am aware of the irony in asking you to do what I will not, but I think you are someone willing to do what is right, however dirty or disreputable it may seem.”

Ruby stared at the sword. It was well-fashioned, with a handsome black hilt, a crossguard of vivid green shaped like the thorns of a rose, and the pommel like the flower itself, layers of petals fashioned out of crystal in red, yellow, and white unfolded as though before the sun.

It was a fine sword, but she did not want to use it to kill her cousin.

“No,” she said.

“Ruby,” Sunsprite said reproachfully.

“I won’t do it,” Ruby declared. “This is my problem, not yours.”

“Both our lives are commanded to end.”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

“What do right and wrong matter when lives are at stake?”

“I… I don’t know,” Ruby admitted. “But I think they do.”

“Ugh, boring,” Tyrian moaned. “You know what they say, if you want something done right,” – he leapt down into the pit with them, landing nimbly on his feet despite the distance – “then do it yourself!”

“No!” Ruby cried as he lunged towards Sunsprite.

Sunsprite turned, slowly, almost lazily, her yellow cloak swirling around her like… like long golden hair.

Tyrian thrust out his hands, the blades of his claws gleaming before he buried them both in Sunsprite’s chest.

Blood burst from Sunsprite’s mouth as his guns went off.

Ruby screamed.

And the world descended into chaos.

The Queen’s words had changed everything.

Ember had not liked what was going on – she hadn’t liked it, in spite of what Rutherford thought – but she had been willing to accept it when it was only Ruby Rose that was fated to die. She liked Ruby, she didn’t think that she deserved death, and she didn’t know if the Queen was telling the truth when she said that it was Ruby’s life or the destruction of Freeport, but if she was… Ruby was a stranger here, and Ember was responsible for the safety of the Summer Fire Clan. She didn’t like it, but there it was.

But this? This changed everything! If the Queen was willing to sacrifice not just a stranger but a servant, a good servant, one who had sworn loyalty to Freeport and the Queen, then where would it end? Was anyone safe?

What was the good of sacrificing for Freeport, when anyone in Freeport could be sacrificed?

Sunsprite Rose had fought alongside Ember, as many other Rangers had. She had fought to protect the clans who observed the Queen’s Peace; she had fought to create the Sun Queen’s vision of a nation united, no more towns and clans and steadings but a single kingdom, united under one ruler.

It was a vision that Sunsprite had shared in, and Ember had shared in it too, until it became clear that that vision did not even extend to protecting those who pledged themselves to see it into being. Sunsprite had sworn her oath to the Sun Queen; that placed her life in the Queen’s hands, yes, but it was an oath that should have been rewarded with honour, land, and silver, and if the latter two were not particularly forthcoming, then at least – land and silver being scarce everywhere – the first one was bestowed. It was an oath that should have been rewarded with protection also, with loyalty falling like rain as well as rising like fire.

But it seemed that there was no loyalty, only a willingness to sacrifice anything – or anyone.

Ember pushed through the crowd; the warriors of the Summer Fire Clan made way for her, and though she was smaller than many of the Frost Mountain Clan, she was strong enough to shoulder her way through their ranks until she was standing beside Prince Rutherford.

“If you’re going to do something,” she said, “then I won’t stop you.”

Prince Rutherford looked down on her. “Ember betray Sun Queen?”

“The Sun Queen will not hesitate to betray us, it seems,” Ember growled. “You were right.”

Prince Rutherford did not reply; there was no time to reply; the scorpion faunus whose arrival had heralded all these troubles had leapt down into the pit and buried his blades in Sunsprite’s chest before anyone could react.

He fired, point blank, into the Rose scion, and as he fired – and as Ruby screamed – it was Rutherford’s turn to leap. With his vast strength, he tore through the wire separating him from the pit, crushing it beneath him as he landed atop it. Ember leapt after him, landing heavily upon the sand, one fist pounding the floor, the other – holding her staff of lordship – held out to her right.

The scorpion looked at them, and his face twisted with annoyance as he threw the bloody form of Sunsprite Rose aside.

Ember roared, and as she roared, her semblance, dragonfire, roared too, in a great torrent of flame that erupted from out of her mouth to scorch the sand and blacken the wall behind the faunus – or rather, where he had been, for he leapt nimbly out of the way of her gust.

Prince Rutherford moved to place his considerable bulk between Ruby and him who meant to do her harm.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Sun Queen demanded. “How dare you trespass against the will of your queen?”

“You are not my queen,” Ember snarled. “Summer Fire! To arms!”

“Frost Mountain attack!”

Whatever love there might be for Freeport in the hearts of the clans, they were first and foremost of the Summer Fire and the Frost Mountain, and they heeded the voices of their chiefs just as their fathers and mothers had for generations stretching back for untold ages. And at the commands of those voices, they turned upon the warriors of Freeport. They had no weapons – only the Queen’s own servants were permitted to go armed in the Tower of the Sun, although Ember was able to excuse her staff as a symbol of her rank – but they fell upon those who were now their enemies with fists and feet and any useful semblances that they possessed.

The chamber filled with the shouts and ringing sounds of battle.

And the scorpion faunus beheld it all and laughed to see it.

“Is that gunfire?” Cardin asked.

Cinder listened; the sounds were muffled down here, like thunder far off, but since when had they been lucky enough that it would just be thunder?

“I think you’re right,” she growled. She growled some more as she pulled fruitlessly upon the wooden bars of the cage that confined her. If only I was still the Fall Maiden, then I would never have ended up in this position.

Sunset Shimmer, whoever you are, you must have been very persuasive to talk me into giving thatose up.

“Are they shooting at Ruby?” Lyra asked tremulously.

Cinder listened some more. It wasn’t just gunfire that she could hear; there seemed to be a good amount of shouting going on as well; there was a greater clamour than shots alone would have accounted for.

“I’m not so sure,” she murmured.

“Why not?” Cardin asked.

“Because they’re making too much noise to be shooting at Ruby,” Cinder replied.

“I hope you’re right,” Cardin said. “Maybe she caught a break.”

“Maybe,” Cinder agreed cautiously. “But we will not know until someone comes down here and deigns to tell us.”

“Perhaps,” Torchwick said. “Or perhaps not.”

Before Cinder could demand that he elaborate, she heard – much more closely than the shots or the shouting – footsteps descending the stairs towards them. There was no torch; at least, Cinder could see no light, but she could hear the footsteps on the stone, getting closer and closer.

She could only hear one set of steps, and it was only one figure that appeared: a single Ranger, a young woman with a slight build and a submachine gun in her hands. Her features were hard to make out in the dark, and her voice was silent as she approached.

“What’s going on?” Cinder demanded.

Still, the Ranger said nothing. She stood before the wooden bars of their cell, staring at them – or so it seemed; her eyes were difficult to see.

And then her whole body was illuminated by a pale pink light, as shards of tinted glass seemed to shatter all around her, dropping off her body like skin shed from a serpent, revealing the even smaller figure of Neapolitan, wearing Torchwick’s hat upon her head.

She curtsied, spreading her arms out on either side of her.

Torchwick climbed to his feet. “Perfect timing as always, Neo. I don’t suppose you happened to have the keys on you as well?”

Neo held up one hand, and although Cinder couldn’t see what she was holding very well, the jingling sound was unmistakable.

Torchwick chuckled. “Of course. I never doubted you for a second.”

Neo got to work, unlocking the padlock and pulling the chain that held the door shut out from around the bars and throwing it aside. It turned out she also had the keys to the shackles as well, and one by one, their restraints fell heavily to the ground, thumping onto the layer of straw that covered the stone.

Cinder rubbed her wrists as she felt her aura return to her, and with it, all her strength and vitality. Now that she knew what she was up against, and Ruby would not be interfering with her in a misguided attempt at doing the right thing, then let all her enemies beware.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s going on up there, do you?” Cardin asked.

Neo signed something.

“Hang on a second; I can barely see your fingers,” Torchwick said, patting his pockets. “And of course I left my-”

There was a click, and the flame of Torchwick’s lighter illuminated the darkness of their cell, lighting up the smug look on Neo’s face.

“You are an angel, kid,” Torchwick said, plucking the lighter from her hand. “Now, you were saying?”

Neo signed again.

“She says there’s some kind of civil war going on up there,” Torchwick said. “Seems like our old travelling buddies from the clans have turned against the Queen. Guess nobody wanted to see Little Red put to death.”

“Now is our moment then,” Cinder declared. “We take advantage of the chaos, rescue Ruby, and capture the Queen herself.”

“'Capture'?” Cardin asked. “Why?”

“Because she has stolen something, from all of us, and she may not be able to give it back if she is dead,” Cinder declared.

“I don’t remember anything being stolen,” Cardin said.

“You wouldn’t; that’s the point,” Cinder replied. “I know that it sounds strange, but there is no time to explain it now. You have to trust me.”

Cardin hesitated for a moment. “Okay,” he said, sighing a little. “We capture the Sun Queen.”

Taiyang groaned where he lay on the floor.

“Somebody ought to stay with him; he’s not in much position to move or fight,” Torchwick said. “I volunteer Neo.”

Neo sucked in a sharp intake of breath, putting her hands on her hips as she glared up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that; I’m just trying to look out for you!”

“Do it,” Cardin said. “Neo, stay with Taiyang; the rest of you with me; let’s go.”

Sunset stared down at the chaos unfolding before her. Caught by surprise, her Rangers were losing ground against the brutal savagery of the Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire clans, while the representatives of the other clans seemed torn whether to support her or not, and were losing ground.

Meanwhile, Ember and Prince Rutherford were defending Ruby against Tyrian, and while they hadn’t killed him yet, he didn’t seem able to get past them either.

Ungrateful savages! She had come here to sort out their benighted and abandoned patch of the world, she had given them peace and security, she had laboured on their behalf night and day, and this was how they repaid her? Bad enough that they were suspicious and obstinate towards her rule and her intentions, but now this? Rebellion?!

So be it. It was treason then, and they had made their choice to suffer the wages of treason for themselves and all their people.

You were of Freeport, or you were an enemy of Freeport. She would destroy these wretched clans, she would expurgate every last trace of them from the world, she would make mountains out of their skulls, she would make it so that when men spoke of the Frost Mountain or the Summer Fire Clans in future, it would only be as a cautionary tale of what happened to those who dared defy the power of Freeport!

“Laurel!” she snapped. “Get every Ranger, everyone in the tower who can hold a spear or a gun, in here now! Cherry, go to the barracks; I want watches placed on the camps of these two clans, but bring everyone else to reinforce us. We’ll destroy their warriors in the tower, then take our revenge.”

“'Revenge'?” Cherry murmured.

“Did I stutter? Yes! Go!” Sunset yelled, starting towards them, making Cherry flinch backwards in a squeak of alarm, before both she and Laurel made their exit, dashing out of the chamber to rally Sunset’s troops within and without the Tower of the Sun.

“A little magic might come in handy,” Sunset suggested testily to Dawn, who was watching the unfolding chaos without reacting to it.

Dawn, wearing the other Sunset’s body, nodded. “Right. As you command, my Queen. I’ve got this.”

She took a step back, a frown creasing their shared face, before she held out her hands, palms facing towards the rioting mob battling beneath them.

A green light began to glow around her hands.

Beneath her mask, Sunset began to smile.

And then the light disappeared, fizzling out into nothingness. Dawn blinked, her frown deepened in confusion… and then let out a drawn out groan of pain; she started to clutch at her forehead before she doubled up in pain. She staggered backwards, one hand grabbing her forehead, still moaning, before she toppled over onto the wooden platform.

The moaning stopped as she began to spasm uncontrollably, arms and legs twitching as though she were being shocked.

“Dawn?” Sunset asked, kneeling down beside her. “Dawn, what’s going on? Dawn, can you hear me? Dawny?”

The world shuddered as Sunset ran down the Beacon corridor, with Amber one step behind. They were heading for the door, the opaque glass door decorated with swirling patterns of metal, out of which Dawn had emerged to deceive her.

Which meant it was a pretty good guess that they could get into Dawn’s mind the same way.

“I’m not sure how much time we have left,” Amber said as the shaking of the corridor nearly threw Sunset to her knees.

“Hopefully as much time as we need,” Sunset growled, picking herself back up again and launching herself back into a run, her booted feet pounding upon the surface of the trembling corridor in a sprint that carried her to the glass-and-metal door. Her hand reached out and touched the handle; it was as cold as winter… which made sense, considering that Dawn had talked about going to Atlas Academy – although in Atlas, the heating grid generally stopped it getting too cold, as Sunset understood.

Either way, Sunset’s fingers closed around the frigid handle… and stopped.

Amber ran to the other side of the door, poised and waiting. “Sunset? What’s wrong?”

Sunset closed her eyes. “Am I doing the right thing, Amber?”

“You can’t doubt it.”

“Obviously I can, because I am doubting it,” Sunset replied.

“If you don’t do this,” Amber reminded her, “then Ruby will die.”

“Maybe… maybe that’s what she’d want,” Sunset murmured. “She hates that I saved her life in the tunnel; that’s why our relationship is… maybe I’m just-”

“No,” Amber insisted. “You’re not.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“You were about to ask if you’re still being selfish, like you were on the train, weren’t you?” Amber demanded. “You’re not, Sunset; you have to put that behind you.”

“What will happen if we save Ruby?” Sunset asked. “Will Freeport suffer?”

“No-”

“If you say ‘no one is ever told any story but their own,’ then so help me-”

“I don’t know,” Amber admitted. “I only know as much as you and Cinder know.”

“What about your gift of foresight?”

“It doesn’t tell me everything,” Amber replied. “I don’t know if saving Ruby and the others will lead to suffering for the people of Freeport, but I do know that if Salem wins, then the sufferings of one town, however large, will pale in comparison. Tell Ruby that if she wants to play games with numbers.”

“The victory or defeat of Salem is not in our hands,” Sunset whispered.

“Then where does it lie?” Amber asked. “Who will withstand her if not you?”

Sunset didn’t reply, at least not at first. “I… will she forgive me for this?”

“Would you not rather she was alive to hate you then contentedly dead?” Amber asked.

“Yes,” Sunset admitted.

Amber nodded. “Besides, she doesn’t remember you at all the moment.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “Great.”

“Sorry. There isn’t much of an upside to that, is there?” Amber asked. She looked up as the corridor bucked violently back and forth. “But we don’t have time for this, Sunset; do you want to do this or not?”

“Yes!” Sunset cried. “Yes, I want to do this. And I will.” Ruby could hate her, but she wouldn’t allow her to die by her inaction. She thought, and from her thought, she conjured Sol Invictus and Soteria, appearing slung across her back, their weight a reassuring comfort upon her shoulders. Sunset didn’t know if they would survive the transition into Dawn’s mind, but she lost nothing by trying. “Let’s do this,” she said, and pushed the door open, stepping through the open portal into a blinding white light.

Sunset closed her eyes, screwing them up tight as she walked forward, one step and then another, until she felt the light dim enough that she could open up her eyes again.

It was not Atlas, but it was definitely a northern town; snow lay on the streets and covered the roofs of the houses, lending an air of Hearth's Warming Eve to the whole place until Sunset half expected a group of carollers to show up and start singing. The buildings were Atlesian in style, with doors of glass and metal like the one they had just walked through, solid walls of regular, square-cut stone, with marble columns before the town-hall-looking building directly ahead. Neon signs hung above the doors or jutted out from the higher storeys, although none of them were lit at present… actually, that was not quite right, as Sunset looked around she saw that one sign was lit up: the sign for the CCT Café was flashing red and white.

Amber stepped forward, crunching the snow beneath her boots, until she was standing level with Sunset. “What now?”

Sunset looked at her. “Don’t you know?”

“No,” Amber admitted. “Why would I? I’ve never done anything like this before. Besides, you’re the one whose semblance is entering other people’s souls.”

“Maybe I should have learnt how to use it,” Sunset muttered. “But, despite that lapse, I think that I know where to go.”

“Where?”

“To the place that’s inviting us,” Sunset said, and with those words, she strode forwards, leaving footsteps in the snow behind her as she walked down the street. It was night; the moon was a pale crescent hanging above, and the stars seemed cold and distant as they shone down upon them. The streetlights were lit, and they walked between patches of light and spots of darkness on their way through the deserted town.

Amber followed in Sunset’s footsteps as they walked past dark and unlit shops, past a bar with its doors open to reveal an interior shrouded in impenetrable gloom, until they came to the CCTnet café, the only place in the whole town that was illuminated, at least as far as Sunset could see. It was a sterile place, with rows and rows of computer terminals set up tightly packed together, separated with opaque white plastic screens, with identical chairs with black cushions and backs of web or mesh, sitting facing them. The walls were white, devoid of decoration of any kind.

The terminals were blank, all save for one that was running a video game, some sort of first person military shooter. It was running despite the lack of anyone playing on it, the protagonist running through the corridors, shooting anything that got in his way.

“What is this place?” Amber asked as she followed Sunset through the door.

“I think this is their… their sanctum,” Sunset said. “Like the dorm room is for me.”

“This is where they feel safe?” Amber’s voice was filled with disbelief. “This is where they feel at home?”

“I’m not here to judge; I’m just here to get my body back,” Sunset muttered.

“How?” inquired Amber.

Sunset walked into the café, approaching the terminal where the video game was playing. “I think,” she said, “that very soon-”

Alarms began to wail in the town outside, sirens blaring out for no one to hear.

“Warning: perimeter breach,” the announcement sounded automated, a message cobbled together out of pre-recorded words and syllables, canned orders being broadcast over the loudspeaker. “Please seek shelter and await further announcements. Repeat. Warning: perimeter breach…”

The sirens continued to blare out, joined by a sound like the rumbling of an approaching train, a rumbling that rattled the windows in the CCT café and made the building shake.

“How is this happening?” Amber cried. “The deterioration should only be affecting your mind, not hers!”

“Because this isn’t deterioration,” Sunset replied, holding onto a plastic privacy screen for support as she faced the door.

“Then what is it?”

Sunset grinned. “Someone’s mad at me.”

A chill wind blew into the café as Dawn flung the door open hard enough to slam it into the window. A light dusting of snow blew in behind her, carried by the biting wind as she stomped inside, her green eyes blazing with wrath. When she spoke, every word was as sharp as a dagger.

“What,” she snarled, “are you doing here? This is my mind, how dare you!?”

“The boot isn’t nearly as comfortable on the other foot, is it?” Sunset asked.

Dawn glared. “I was prepared to be nice,” she said, “but now, I think I’m going to-”

“What?” Sunset demanded. “Kill me? Kill Ruby? Kill Cinder? All the things that I know that you’re going to do anyway?.”

Dawn hesitated. “How do you know that?” She looked at Amber. “And who are you?”

“Never mind that,” Sunset said. “Why?”

“Because it’s for the best,” Dawn said. Her voice softened, becoming smoother. “Did your little friend over there tell you that there’s an army of grimm massed outside our walls? That Ruby’s life was the price to keep those grimm from falling upon our town?”

“You promised me-”

“Before I knew about the grimm!” Dawn snapped. “I’m not happy about it, but Sunset’s right; we had no choice. I won’t lose another home to those monsters!”

Amber gasped. “This place… the perimeter breach…”

“It wasn’t contained, was it?”

Dawn’s face hardened. “No,” she said. “No, it wasn’t. The walls were breached, the grimm… you can guess what happened.” She took a step forward. “I was in here when it happened. Playing video games with Sunset over the CCT.” She looked down at one of the terminals, one hand brushing against the desk. She glanced back up at Sunset. “I hid in the janitor’s closet while my parents, my home… while everyone was devoured by the grimm. And do you know why they didn’t find me? Why they didn’t sense my fear?”

“Because you’re a sociopath?” Sunset guessed.

Dawn let out a false laugh. “Because of Sunset,” she said. “The real Sunset, my Sunset. She stayed on the line with me, talking to me, keeping me calm, for hours until the rescue and recovery teams found me. She means everything to me. She’s all I have. She’s the reason I’m alive, and so, I won’t let her dream die. Not for Ruby. Not for you.”

“And I won’t let you kill my friends,” Sunset growled.

“So you’ll make the same choice you made in Vale?” Dawn demanded. “The same choice you made at the Breach? You’re going to sacrifice a whole community for a handful of lives?”

“I’ll save everyone!” Sunset shouted. “My friends and your town and even you and yours, however undeserving you are!”

Dawn smirked. “A little late for that.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. A chill ran down her spine. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded.

“Past tense,” Amber whispered, covering her mouth with both hands.

No. Please, Celestia, no. “What?” Sunset snapped.

“You’ve been using past tense,” Amber repeated.

The smirk on Dawn’s face widened. “That’s right, Sunset. Ruby understood, you see. She isn’t a self-centred bitch like you, so she understood what was really at stake. She understood that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. And so, when we came to take her life… she didn’t resist.”

A sound that was half-gasp, half-sob rose out of Sunset’s throat. Her tail drooped to the floor; she bowed her head as tears welled up in her eyes. Ruby… Ruby was… Ruby was dead. Ruby, who had hated her; Ruby, who had loved her; Ruby who had been so much more than just a partner to her; Ruby, dead and gone and beyond recall. That bright smile, that shining light, that lovely rose all gone, all snuffed out. Ruby was dead.

And she died not hating me, but not knowing who I was. That… that was worse, in Sunset’s eyes. She had died… she would never understand… she was dead, and she had died alone, thinking that… what had she been thinking when she died?

What did it matter? She was dead.

Despite the fact that she wasn’t really breathing, Sunset found that her breaths were coming more quickly, her chest rising and falling.

“You can’t save her, Sunset,” Dawn cooed softly. “So why don’t you just-?”

“Shut up!” The words came at a bark out of Sunset’s mouth as she raised her face to bare her teeth at Dawn. Her ears flattened down on top of her head. “Shut up!” she roared, as the green light of magic gathered in her hands. A part of her didn’t want Amber to see this, but the rest of her was past caring or control. “I’ll kill you,” she snarled, before repeating it in a roar to make the Royal Canterlot Voice seem like a mere whisper. “I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU!”

Dawn raised her hands, conjuring a shield of shimmering green magic in front of her. “Don’t leave IOUs you can’t pay, Sunset; you gave me your memories, remember? I have your power at my command now.”

Sunset grinned, a vicious, bloodthirsty grimace like a shark spotting a seal in the water; the glow of magic in her hands intensified as the rest of Sunset’s body began to shine with an ethereal light, power blazing out of her from every pore. “Tell me something, Dawn,” she growled. “How long has it been? A day? Then perhaps you didn’t have time to learn one very important lesson.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unicorn magic,” Sunset said, “is enhanced by their emotions!” She screamed wordlessly, and as she screamed, she struck, and as she struck, she poured out into her magic all of her anger, all her fury, all her grief, all her sorrow.

She would save Freeport, in Ruby’s memory, because it was what Ruby would have wanted and what the true huntress that Ruby represented would have done; she would fight on, in Ruby’s name, with Ruby in her heart, and she would go to Mistral and carry the news of her death to Jaune and Pyrrha because they deserved to know the truth, for all that it would break their hearts as it had broken Sunset’s.

But before that, she would tear the Sun Queen’s whole cabal to pieces.

All of that poured out of Sunset in a beam of magic as tall as she was, a beam that tore up the floor of the CCTnet café on its way to Dawn.

Sunset had a moment to appreciate the look of mounting horror on Dawn’s face before Sunset’s beam shattered her shield like glass.

For a second, Dawn Starfall remained, hanging suspended amidst the flow of magic, looking almost like a silhouette, dark against the magical light. A silhouette that was screaming at the top of her lungs as the magic tore her apart. Sunset watched it happen, watched Dawn’s mental body disintegrate before her eyes.

And she was fairly certain that, in this place, in her own mind, Dawn could die as readily as anyone.

And die she did. When the magic faded, there was nothing left of her, not even ashes amidst the trench in the floor and out into the street beyond that Sunset had blasted.

There was nothing left at all.

That’s one.

Amber was covering her mouth with her hands. “S-Sunset?” she murmured.

Sunset blinked. Tears were streaming down her face. She couldn’t have stopped them even if she wanted to, for Ruby… Ruby was dead.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You… you shouldn’t have had to… I should go.” She began to walk briskly towards the exit.

“Sunset?” Amber repeated.

Sunset stopped. “What?” she demanded.

“I’m so sorry,” Amber whispered.

Sunset didn’t look at her. “A lot of people are going to be sorry by the time I’m done,” she growled and stalked out.

She looked up, wiping away the tears filling her eyes so that she could see better. The stars were gone. The moon was gone. The sky was nothing but blackness up above.

And the sirens had stopped sounding. Sunset looked behind her. All was black. The street lights were going out. Darkness was consuming everything.

Sunset looked ahead, to the doorway between her mind and Dawn’s; from this angle, it looked the doorway into a dorm room at Beacon. The darkness was closing in upon it.

She didn’t wait for Amber; she knew that the Fall Maiden would be fine; the one who had to get back to her own body was herself. Sunset teleported, appearing in a burst of magic just before her door, a door that she yanked open and threw herself through the into the light-

“Dawn?” the Sun Queen cried, shaking her friend by the shoulder. “Dawny?”

The eyes of Sunset Shimmer snapped open, and with one hand, she reached up to grab the Sun Queen by the throat and squeeze.

“I’ll kill you,” she snarled.

Memory

Memory

“Which way do we go?” Lyra asked as the four of them ran up the stone staircase out of the dungeon.

“The way they took Red?” Torchwick suggested.

“We don’t know which way that is,” Cardin said. “We don’t really know our way around here.”

“We don’t need to know,” Cinder declared. “We have ears, do we not?” She gestured with one imperious hand in the direction from which the greatest swell of noise was coming. “The battle is that way, and like as not, so are our enemies.” She began to stride purposefully in that direction.

“Hang on!” Cardin said loudly. “For one thing, we could do with getting our weapons back.”

“A fine thing, if we knew where they were,” Cinder replied, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“But we do know one thing,” Cardin went on. “We know that they brought us in through the front door and led us to the dungeon.”

“Speak for yourself; I came there by other means.”

“I know,” Cardin said. “But the fact is that the way out is about the only way that I can remember, and more to the point, it's where we need to go.”

Cinder rounded on him, stalking back towards him until she was up in his face. “Why?” she demanded. “We know where our enemy is, and they are not waiting for us at the front door.”

“It’s the only door,” Cardin replied. “And it’s where their reinforcements will be coming in.”

“Assuming they have sent for reinforcements.”

“Which they probably will, unless they’re stupid or arrogant.”

“Or they have no need of them.”

“In which case, what difference can we make?”

“I think you’ll find that I can make a great deal of difference,” Cinder declared.

“Which is why you can make sure that no one gets in, and no one gets out,” Cardin replied. “You might be the only one who can.”

Cinder’s chest rose and fell. She could not linger at the door like some kind of glorified bellhop! If the Sun Queen died in the fighting, then she would never regain her memories; they would be like all that had been taken from her by Salem, gone beyond recall, or worse for her not even being left the vague connective tissue that yet enabled her to construct a story of her life.

She felt – or at least she feared – as though if she did not face her enemy directly, then she would lose the chance to take back what had been stolen from her.

“I must find the Queen,” she growled.

“To what end?” Cardin demanded. “If we lose this battle, then we might as well have stayed in our cells, and our best chance of not losing is to cut off her support; I don’t know who she’s fighting or what chance they have, but they probably have a better chance if the Sun Queen is limited to the troops she has right now.”

That made a distressing amount of sense, but it was Torchwick’s turn to speak up now. “What about Red?” he asked. “Are we just going to ditch her?”

Cardin bit his lip. He hesitated for less than a moment. “You and Lyra head towards the sound of the fighting; stay out of trouble until you find Ruby – if you can. Then get her back to join the rest of us, and find out what’s going on, too, if you can.”

“Sneak around, stay out of trouble? Finally, my kind of job,” Torchwick said. He touched the brim of his reclaimed bowler hat and bowed his head to Cinder. “Cinder.”

“Roman,” Cinder murmured. “Be careful.”

Roman winked at her. “Always, and right back at’cha. Okay, Little Voice, let’s go check on the ruckus, shall we?”

They took off, Torchwick leading and Lyra following, heading in the direction of the sounds of battle echoing through the tower towards them.

“Come with me,” Cardin ordered her. “We’re going to put a stopper in this tower.” He didn’t wait for her acknowledgement, but began to run – with less concern for stealth than the other two had shown – in the direction of the only way into or out of the tower, leaving Cinder with little choice but to follow after him.

“Was it very difficult for you to remember that you’re supposed to be in charge?” Cinder asked playfully as they ran.

“Shut up,” Cardin snapped.

Their footsteps echoed on the stone, Cardin’s heavy tread alternating with Cinder’s lighter, barely audible step, as they dashed down the corridors, Cinder only prevented from overtaking Cardin – she was faster than he was, by some distance – by the fact that he knew where he was going and she, not so much. She had come into the dungeons by a different route, as she said, and she had been a little bit out of it besides.

It was the right thing to do. It was the right place to go. It was the tactically savvy move. But at the same time, she didn’t like it. She did not like it one bit.

And if this battle ended with no chance of her taking back what was stolen, then she was going to make sure that Cardin knew how upset she was.

Perhaps she should have left him and done what she wanted; not in the sense of it being the right thing to do, but… but in the sense of it being the Cinder thing to do. Since when did Cinder Fall put the big picture first? Since when did Cinder Fall behave selflessly?

Cinder Fall is a creation; she can be whoever I want her to be.

But since when did I want her to be this?

I need to remember how I became this way, or how can I hope to understand myself?

But in the meantime, she would fight. She would fight, and she would be Cinder Fall, if not in all her glory – she had too little magic in her for that – then at least in ferocity.

And so, she followed Cardin’s lead as they ran to the door.

The doorway, when they reached it, still bore the marks of damage from Cinder’s assault upon it: the lock and a good chunk of the door destroyed, a hole blown in the wall as well from the explosion of her arrows. They had covered the hole up with some hastily cobbled together bits of wood and metal and piled up a stout chest, some more wood, a few rocks, some odds and ends beside the ruined door so that they could, at need, barricade it against attack.

Very considerate of them, I must say.

At present, the barricade – or the materials to make it – were pushed to one side, and the doorway was wide open, probably to receive the reinforcements Cardin had predicted. If they were coming, then there was not a large welcoming committed here to meet them: two Rangers, one with a crossbow and the other with a bolt-action rifle from the Great War. Neither of them were aware of Cinder coming as she sped past Cardin, her feet beating a rapid tattoo upon the ground as she charged towards her enemies.

They became aware of her much, much too late, raising rifle and crossbow as one. The Ranger with the crossbow, his hair wild and his beard unkempt, loosed his quarrel at her, but Cinder nimbly dodged aside, skidding along the ground before she leapt upon him.

The Ranger with the rifle fired at her and missed. Cinder collided with her opponent with the crossbow, who was stupidly trying to reload it as Cinder fell on him like a lioness upon a zebra. She grabbed him by the neck, pulling him backwards, and spinning him around, using his body like a shield to absorb the two more bullets that the Ranger with a rifle hastily fired at her, before her hand found the knife at the crossbowman’s belt, and she threw it into the rifleman’s throat. He collapsed, gurgling a little as blood began to stain the floor.

Cinder let go of the other Ranger; he was dead too, and fell with a slump down beside the first.

“I’m beginning to get a very low opinion of these people,” she observed.

Cardin grunted in acknowledgement. “Keep watch,” he said as he closed the door and began to barricade it up, heaving trunk and wood and stones into position before the door so that it would take a strong man indeed to force it open.

Cinder said nothing as she scooped up the rifle from off the floor next to the dead man. It was a Valish weapon, with a short magazine holding only five rounds. He’d fired three of them before he died. Cinder knelt down beside his body, resting the butt of the rifle on the floor and holding it with one hand as, with the other, she began to root around for another magazine on the dead man’s body.

The sound of footsteps approaching forced Cinder to abandon her search and settle for grabbing the sword-pattern bayonet from off the dead man’s belt. It wasn’t the same as having more shots, but it was nearly a foot and a half of cold steel, and that was not nothing.

And besides, she told herself, circumstances were as unlikely to give her the chance to reload as she had given the departed crossbowman.

The footsteps drew closer. Cinder fixed her bayonet and raised her rifle to her shoulder. She had never particularly liked guns – there was something rather brutal about them; she preferred the more elegant weapons of a more civilised age – but any weapon was better than nothing in a pinch.

Especially when someone was coming towards you, and you had no reason to expect them to be friendly.

It turned out to be one of the Sun Queen’s creatures, her lieutenant Laurel, the one who did her bidding and ran all her errands, both escorting honoured guests to their rooms and then coming to arrest them once they became detested enemies.

She stopped, regarding Cinder with those pale and watery eyes of hers. “How?” she demanded.

Cinder smirked. “I think that’s my line, don’t you?”

With both hands, Laurel began to reach towards the sleeves of her black blouse. “We should have killed you when we had the chance.”

“Yes,” Cinder agreed, “you should.” And then she fired, because really, what else was there to say?

The stolen rifle cracked. Laurel leapt backwards, her dress billowing around her as she performed a nearly perfect backflip, reaching into her sleeves as she did so to produce a pair of heavy-looking pens.

They transformed in her grip, one into a knife and the other into a slender-bladed sword.

Cinder fired again, and Laurel deflected it with her blade. They both charged, rushing to meet one another in the centre of the chamber. Cinder let Laurel make the first move, slashing downwards with her sabre; Cinder parried the blow on the wooden stock of her rifle, pushing the sword aside before thrusting the bayonet for Laurel’s gut. Laurel used her knife to parry the stroke away, counterattack with one, two, three furious strokes, only one of which Cinder managed to parry before the sabre blade sneaked through to nick her aura.

Laurel retreated a couple of paces, a disappointed look upon her face.

Cinder scowled. She took a moment to gather herself, then attacked again, thrusting with the bayonet and then, when that was parried, reversing the rifle to use the butt as a club. Laurel was too quick for her; her weapons were too nimble; Cinder could beat her guard down, but she would dance away, and as she danced, she struck out with her slender sabre or her knife, taking strips off Cinder’s aura as though it was a piece of meat from which she was slicing delicate strips for the royal banquet table.

And that look of disappointment had turned into a full blown smirk.

Cinder wanted to slice it off her face.

She glanced down at the rifle in her hands; it was too heavy, too cumbersome, and she was too unfamiliar with it to use it against someone who was armed with their own weapon, fashioned for their hand and in the use of which they were exquisitely well-trained.

Sadly, she did not have sword or bow handy.

But she did have a knife. Two knives, in fact. Slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on Laurel, Cinder removed the sword bayonet from the end of the rifle and threw the gun itself aside. She still kept her eyes fixed on Laurel as she pulled the knife out of the dead rifleman’s throat.

They were no Midnight, these two, but they were blades, and they fitted in her hand.

Cinder’s scowl turned into a smirk to match that which Laurel was wearing… except that the sight of it caused Laurel’s look to falter a little.

Good.

Cinder half-crouched, almost doubling over before she kicked off, covering the distance between them instantly, getting inside Laurel’s guard with a single deft stroke of her knife before she slashed at Laurel’s face with her bayonet. Laurel jerked her head backwards, but not before Cinder had sliced off some of her aura the way that Laurel had cut off hers.

And now, a lesson from Rainbow Dash, Cinder thought, as she slammed her head forwards to butt Laurel directly in the face, a blow that did far more damage to Laurel’s aura than it did to Cinder, before catching her, still reeling, in the side with a swiping kick that sent her flying into the wall.

Laurel came back at her, not running but gliding along the floor as though it were made of ice and she were wearing skates.

Her semblance, clearly, Cinder thought, as Laurel darted past Cinder, a flickering stroke lashing out at her which Cinder hastily parried aside.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cinder noticed Cardin reaching for the discarded crossbow.

“Don’t,” she snapped. “This one’s mine.”

It was at this moment, as she stood upon the raised platform with all hell breaking loose around her, that Bon Bon wished that her weapon were a little more compact.

Ordinarily, she liked the range that Whirlwind gave her; she was free to keep her enemies a good distance away from her, or try to, but it had its weaknesses, and one of those was that if the enemy started off close by you – standing right beside you, say – then it wasn’t as much use as it could be.

Of course, it could be used as a mace in a pinch; the chain did retract all the way in. It still wasn’t the best weapon for sparring, but if she could manage to get Sami on the floor, then it ought to do to stove her head in.

Bon Bon had no intention of serving Salem. Not again. She hadn’t known what she was getting into the first time, and now that she knew… the question that dominated her mind every single day was how in Remnant Lyra had managed to forgive her. Okay, she hadn’t actually done very much, but she had contributed to it! She had been a part of some pretty awful things, and that was just the stuff that Lyra knew about, like pretending to be racist to stir up trouble.

Being ineffective was not a defence, as nice as it might have been for Bon Bon if it were. It just meant that you had ill intentions that you were too rubbish to actually bring to fruition. And while Bon Bon might protest that her intentions had never actually been that bad – she hadn’t really known what Cinder was planning half the time, and she doubted that Cinder herself had known what she was planning half the time – she’d known that her mistress was not a benevolent one.

And yet she’d gone along with it. Along with Cinder, along with Amber, along with Tempest, along with everyone except for the actual good guys, like Blake, whom she had treated like dirt and to whom she had affected to appear superior.

And Lyra had forgiven her for all of that.

She would probably even forgive her for joining Tyrian, even if Bon Bon had been sincere about it.

Which Bon Bon was not. She had walked out of that cell because she could do more outside of it than she could in and because she had so little pride left that some more deceit wouldn’t really make much difference. She had walked out of the cell to wait for a moment like this one, with Tyrian down in the pit engaged in battle, the Sun Queen and her guards distracted by the girl who had just collapsed, and Sami beside her and a little ahead of her. If she could get the wiry caribou faunus on the ground, then she could beat on her until her aura broke and then… and then she would cross that bridge later.

She had all her armour on once more, and Whirlwind hanging from her belt. With one hand, Bon Bon reached for the weapon, and with the other-

Sami’s hand snatched out to grab her by the outstretched armoured wrist, pulling her off balance and hurling her to the floor of the platform. The wooden boards shook beneath her impact.

“Did you really think I was stupid enough to trust you?” Sami snarled as she straddled Bon Bon, the knife glinting in her hand.

Bon Bon let the knife descend, cutting into her aura andbefore skittering off her shining breastplate, before she punched upwards, hitting Sami in the gut and making her stagger backwards to the platform edge. Bon Bon climbed to her feet as quickly as she could, pulling Whirlwind off her belt and holding it, in mace form, in both hands.

Sami held her knife in one hand; the other hand, she held out before her, fist clenched, ready to strike or block. She grinned. “Do you think that tin suit will be enough to stop me?” She shook her head. “I never thought you had the guts to be what they said you were.”

Bon Bon rushed her, trying to push the killer off the platform, but Sami was too quick for her, too nimble; she danced away, slashing at Bon Bon with her knife as she went, trying to push Bon Bon off the edge in turn – Bon Bon was just quick enough to drive her back with a clumsy swing of her mace. That was how it went, like a buffalo versus a wolf; Bon Bon would charge, and Sami would retreat, getting around her, getting behind her, and Bon Bon would only just be quick enough to stop Sami from taking advantage of that.

And always that knife, slashing swiftly, taking her aura further and further down.

This was why I wanted to catch her by surprise. She’d known that Sami was faster than she was, known that Sami had the killer instinct that she lacked; all the same, she had to do this. She had to try. For Lyra; she had tried her best to keep Lyra out of this, but she had ended up dragging her into the middle of it regardless. Now, maybe at the last chance, she had to save her. She had to do the right thing.

She didn’t want Lyra to forgive her this time.

She wanted her to be proud.

Just once, just this one time, let me fight like a huntress!

She charged with a great shout, swinging Whirlwind one-handed; Sami ducked the blow, but Bon Bon managed to grab her with her free hand before she could slip away. Her spirit exulted. Now she had her! Now, all she had to do was-

Behind her, Bon Bon heard the roar of some great beast, a roar full of rage and fury, a roar containing in it the promise of dire retribution; she felt a sudden heat, like an inferno flaring up out of nothing, upon her back, and she felt a great force propelling her forwards irresistibly. She lost her grip on Sami as they were both picked up by the sudden blast that hurled them off the platform and sent them careening down towards the battle raging beneath.

Ruby knelt in the eye of the storm.

The battle raged around her, but it did not come near her. She was immune to it, as though her aura had expanded outwards into an impenetrable shield that protected her from any menaces.

It wasn’t really like that, of course; if she had a shield, it was Ember and Prince Rutherford. Together, they fought in the pit, while the warriors of their clans battled the Queen’s forces around them, and if they didn’t fight deliberately to protect Ruby, that was certainly the effect they were having.

They couldn’t defeat Tyrian; he was too fast, too cunning, too experienced, too good, even for the two of them working together to pin him down and take him out. He leapt from place to place, sometimes clinging to the wire mesh like a spider, sometimes skittering on all fours across the sand, always cackling or leering or just smiling with that smile as sharp as a knife. He fired with the guns strapped to his wrists; he lashed out with blades and tail alike. Sometimes, he would spar with one or the other; sometimes, he would take both on for a moment, but he never let them trap him; he always kept moving, and he used that mobility to its fullest potential.

On the other hand, he wasn’t actually able to beat them either. Ruby didn’t know what kind of trials specifically Ember had had to pass to become Lord of the Summer Fire Clan, but she was no slouch in battle, fleet and agile, and with an impressive semblance too. Prince Rutherford was slower, wielding a great axe he had retrieved from the wall of the pit, but he was strong, and he seemed to have no trouble being used as a wall either for Ruby or for Ember. Considering that they were the chiefs of rival clans, they fought with astonishing coordination, their movements flowing into one another, playing off each other. Tyrian was probably better than either of them, but they fought as one, and he was not quite the superior of both of them together.

And so they fought, grunting and cackling, clashing weapons, crashing around the pit, but they came not near to Ruby. Tyrian could not approach her, and her defenders of the clans did not.

She was in the eye of the storm, untouched while it howled around her.

Ruby did not fight. Perhaps she ought to have done so. Perhaps she ought to have fought for her own survival instead of letting others fight for her. Perhaps that was what a huntress would have done. Or would a huntress have done as Ruby had been willing to do: die for the sake of Freeport, to prevent it from being overrun by the grimm?. But Ember and Prince Rutherford and their clans had gotten in the way of that, and now… was it too late? It was too late for the Frost Mountain Clan and the Summer Fire Clan. Too late for Yona, too late for Smolder, too late for Prince Rutherford or for Ember, too late for any of them.

Which meant… Ruby wasn’t sure what that meant, for her at least. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to do now.

She had been willing to die, but that moment had passed, and yet… and yet…

What now?

Ruby knelt upon the sand, the sand that was stained with blood because she knelt by Sunsprite. Her cousin lay flat upon her back, her yellow cloak spread out beneath her, her dark garb stained deep crimson by the wounds that Tyrian had inflicted on her. Her eye was closed, and somehow, the violent manner of her death had not erased the look of serene resignation that she had worn in accepting her fate at the hands of her Queen.

Ruby could feel no pulse, but she held onto one of Sunsprite’s hands anyway, because… because… she didn’t know why she was doing that any more than she knew what she was supposed to do now, unless it was because she was all alone and wanted to pretend otherwise for a little while longer.

No tears ran down Ruby’s face, but not because she was not saddened by it all; she took no joy from this. Sunsprite had betrayed her, yes, but Ruby had understood why; the betrayal had been the right thing to do, for the greater good of Freeport and all who lived here. The Sun Queen’s betrayal of Sunsprite, in turn, had been…

She didn’t want to think about that. She wasn’t going to kneel here and think about how it had been right to murder her cousin, to take another member of her family away from her. To leave her all alone.

All alone. Grandpa would be alone too. Who would tell him the truth? If Ruby survived the night, would that fall on her? If she did not survive, then what stranger would take up the task? How would he survive the news that Sunsprite was dead? Would he even wish to survive, to live in a world where his whole family had been taken from him?

Would he wish to survive all alone?

She didn’t know the answer.

Sunset stared at the golden mask, that hated mask that hid the hated face – her face, the most loathsome face that ever was.

She had killed Ruby. Sunset Shimmer had killed Ruby, one by commanding that the deed be done and the other twice, first by killing her hope and second by sitting idle in the centre of her mind when Ruby needed her.

She did not look away from that mask. She did not look anywhere else; she didn’t want to look anywhere else; she glared into that mask and tried to see the eyes concealed in shadow.

She wanted to see the terror in those eyes before she snuffed the life out of her.

Sunset Shimmer had killed Ruby, and she meant for only one of them to live to feel guilty about it.

With one hand, Sunset grasped her other self firmly by the throat, the strength of an earth pony squeezing upon it, grinding the Sun Queen’s aura beneath her grip; with the other hand, she reached into her pocket and fumbled for the ring of iron, the earth pony attuned element of her dark regalia that would give her the strength to tear herself apart with her bare hands.

She didn’t need to look to tell which ring it was; she could sense the one that she wanted, the three different types of magic calling to her, responding differently to her questing fingertips, singing out to her soul in different ways. The ring of iron, the earth pony ring, sang in a deep bass like the rumblings of the earth, and Sunset thrust her finger into the band of iron and felt the cold of the metal even through her glove.

She felt the strength flowing through her, all weariness departing, all the unfamiliarity of a body newly regained put to flight. She felt strong; she felt so, so strong.

Strong enough to kill them all and bathe this town in so much blood that, when it ran down through the streets and out into the ocean, the very sea itself would be dyed crimson with it.

Ruby was dead. The silver light had been snuffed out. The last rose had wilted, all its petals fallen.

Ruby was dead, and Sunset meant to give back to the Queen and all her followers their fill and more of bloodshed.

She would kill them all. She would make this town and all the dear ambitions of her other self into the funeral pyre of Ruby Rose, and the fires would burn so long and so brightly that Jaune and Pyrrha would look out from the White Tower of Mistral and see the firelight burning across the ocean and know in their hearts that Ruby was dead; Salem herself would see them from her dark fortress and tremble at the wrath of Sunset Shimmer!

And she would start with herself.

Come, friend, you too must die.

The Sun Queen let out a strangled, choking sound as Sunset’s grip, so magically enhanced, tightened upon her throat. She began to burn, the fire consuming her neck, rising from her shoulders up to her chin.

Sunset laughed grimly. “Ah, yes,” she said, “this is your semblance, isn’t it? The Phoenix Armour. What was it you said to me? Something about it making you untouchable?” She moved her head closer, until her forehead was almost touching the golden mask. “I’m touching you now.”

“You,” the Sun Queen snarled.

“Me,” Sunset growled. “The only me.”

“Where’s Dawn?” the Sun Queen demanded.

“You’ll be seeing her soon enough,” Sunset declared.

For a moment, the Sun Queen seemed not to react at all, or her reaction was contained beneath that damned impassive mask; then she screamed, a shriek of pain and anger like a bird who returns to the nest with a tasty worm only to find that all her chicks have become prey to crows.

And as she screamed, ungovernable flames leapt up from every inch of the Sun Queen’s body, the fires consuming her, an inferno springing from her body with such force that – enhanced strength or no – Sunset was hurled backwards, away from the Sun Queen and off the wooden platform. Everyone was hurled off the platform, and everyone fell down into the raging battle going on beneath.

Everyone fell but Sunset. She had no interest in the fighting down below, not yet. She would deal with the insects soon enough, but not yet. Right now, her thoughts were only for the Queen, her anger was only for the Queen, her vengeance would begin with the Queen because the Queen had given the order to snuff out Ruby’s life.

And her name was Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset suspended herself in the air with telekinesis, a green glow of magic surrounding her as she hung in place, glowering at the burning Queen with eyes harder than emeralds. She summoned a touch of pegasus power, conjuring a wind that billowed majestically around her for no other reason than that she wanted her other self to know awe and terror before she died.

The Sun Queen did not look awed or terrified. Her face was hidden, but she stood alone now upon the platform, and yet, she held herself with the confident carriage of one who had an army at her back. She burned like a forest, flames of crimson and gold leaping up towards the ceiling, and the wood on which she stood beginning to smoulder too as the flames from her feet licked at it.

The two Sunsets stared at one another, wordless.

Sunset clenched her iron-ringed fist; she would rip that mask off and see what look the Sun Queen truly wore.

She propelled herself forwards, the magic driving her towards her target, but with a wordless roar, the Sun Queen thrust out her hands towards Sunset as twin goutsgusts of flame erupted towards her, the flames leaping from the Queen’s hands in continuous jets that hissed and roared and crackled.

Sunset threw up one hand, conjuring a shimmering emerald shield before her less than a moment before the flames struck with the force of a raging torrent, pushing her backwards, shield and all, forcing towards the wall of stone.

Sunset gritted her teeth and pushed herself forwards once more, pushing against the flames. The fires pushed back. Sunset’s movement was sluggish, and her shield of green was starting to glow red hot.

A second ring then, and why not? Why not become a monster?

Why not become what Ruby thought I was?

Sunset reached into her pocket again, the golden ring calling to her in a high-pitched voice, a fair maiden’s voice who yet sang of power and vengeance. Sunset put on the golden ring, the unicorn ring, and the power that she felt… these flames were nothing to her now! She was so much stronger, so strong that the semblance of her other self seemed like the playing of a child by comparison. Sunset let out a great shout as she exploded her own shield, the power blasting outwards, snuffing out the flames, knocking her other self off her feet and to the smouldering wooden platform, her semblance disrupted, her flames dying.

Sunset dove for her.

The Sun Queen produced a pistol from out of her blue robes, a slight and slender barrelled thing from which she fired eight shots in rapid succession.

Pathetic, Sunset thought as she conjured another shield on which the bullets hammered harmlessly, do you really think that a popgun like that will be enough to stop me? I am Sunset Shimmer, the true Sunset, you pathetic copycat! I am Sunset Shimmer, neither pony nor human but a spirit of vengeance!

Once more, the flames rose from the Sun Queen, leaping out of her, obscuring her from view; Sunset laughed as, protected by her shield, she soared through the flames to land once more upon the wooden platform.

But the Sun Queen was gone.

Sunset bellowed in anger. She thought that she could hide? She thought that she could escape? Did she imagine that Sunset Shimmer would give up the chase? Did she imagine that there was anywhere she could hide after what she had done?

Or did she simply wish to put off the moment of her inevitable death?

“Coward!” Sunset roared as she strode towards the door, the door that led upwards to the chamber where the Sun Queen had entertained her – and stolen her body.

A cruel smirk spread across her face at the irony of it as Sunset tried the door. It was locked. Sunset shook her head, drew back her fist, and struck it hard enough that the heavy wood splintered and cracked beneath her blow.

The robes of Sunset Shimmer, Queen of Freeport, flapped around her as she ran up the stairs. She could hear her other self breaking down the door behind her; well, that was fine; it didn’t have to hold her forever. Sunset wasn’t stupid; she knew that she couldn’t just hide away from her other self, at least not as upset as she seemed to be, and as determined to accomplish Sunset’s death.

What does she have to be so upset about? She’s the one who killed my best friend.

That thought almost made Sunset stop and stumble on the stairs. Dawn was dead. Her oldest friend, her best friend, her good right hand, the one that she had always been able to count on. Dead. Gone. And it was all the fault of Sunset Shimmer: one of them had killed her; the other had asked too much of her.

Stupid, stupid idea. She should have done then what she was about to do now; it would have been a little more hard work, but it would have been less risky – for Dawn and for herself. If she hadn’t been so eager, if she hadn’t been so desperate to have the Equestrian magic under her control, then… then Dawny wouldn’t be…

Sunset shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. She couldn’t dwell on the past. She couldn’t dwell on the fact that she wanted to kill her other self for what she’d done. Dawn would want her to keep moving forward, for the greater good of Freeport.

Dawn wouldn’t want her to get so caught up in revenge that she threw away everything that they had been working towards.

After the fiasco this was turning into, they would need all the power they could get.

By the time that her other self broke down the door at the bottom of the stairs, Sunset had reached the top of the stairs and put another door between her and her adversary. She locked that too and shoved a heavy chest in front of it besides to buy herself a little more time before she rushed across the room – notably more barren than it had been when she sprang the trap on Sunset – to the tapestry of the Duke of Westmorland receiving the submission of the clans.

She tore the tapestry off the wall and tossed it aside, digging into the loose stone beneath with her fingernails, pulling the brick out to reveal the dark hollow within. Sunset reached into the hollow, her fingers grasping desperately. She didn’t have long.

She would take her other self’s memories. All of her memories; she would erase the memory of everything that she had ever done, everything that she had ever been, and turn her into an absolute innocent, someone who knew nothing of the world, her past, her abilities, anything. She would be adrift in this world, and Sunset would be free to mould her any way she wished, to play the mother and the sister and the friend, to tell her anything and be believed, to raise her to be the good servant she desired and the stalwart protector that Freeport needed.

It would require her learning how to use her magic all over again, Sunset thought as she pulled out the stone, but at least she wouldn’t want to kill Sunset any more.

Sunset thought about her other self, about everything she knew-

The door into the chamber exploded. Her other self strode in through the smoking debris. There almost looked to be a crimson cast to her skin and a darkness in the whites of her eyes, and upon her fingers gleamed three rings of gold, silver, and iron.

Sunset raised the stone, which began to glow with a rich red light-

A blast of magic from the palm of her impostor self struck the stone as it began to work, shattering it with a great blast that made Sunset yelp with pain, clutching her hand as the shards fell to the chamber floor.

And all the memories that she had stolen began to flood back across Remnant.

Cinder remembered.

Her eyes widened, and her breath was stolen away from her with a gasp of shock as all the holes in her memory were filled, all the questions that she had had were answered, and everything that had disappeared in a single moment returned just as swiftly into her thoughts.

She remembered the party in Mistral, when she had inveigled Lionheart into letting her attend as his guest; she had wanted to meet Pyrrha Nikos, to look her in the eye, but while she had done that, she had also met someone who had left much more of an impression on her.

Sunset. How could I have forgotten you?

Sunset Shimmer, who had hunted alongside her; Sunset Shimmer, who had fought alongside and against her; Sunset Shimmer, who had not once but twice seen Cinder at her most vulnerable, when she had been confronted by Phoebe and when she had overtaxed herself with her half of the Fall Maiden’s powers; Sunset, who on both occasions had offered her compassion such as no one else had ever done; Sunset, who had never stopped reaching out to her, never stopped trying to touch her heart.

Sunset Shimmer, whom Cinder had thought to turn to evil, but who had ended up turning Cinder Fall to good instead.

Sunset, who had rescued her from Salem’s dark embrace and set her free, only for Cinder to find that all she wanted to do with her freedom was stay by the side of Sunset Shimmer.

How could I have forgotten?

She felt like someone who had forgotten the sun, or what daylight was, suddenly stepping outside and recalling both those things for the first time. Not only did everything make much more sense now – Sunset was the reason she was here, Sunset was the reason she had given up the power of the Fall Maiden, Sunset was… Sunset was everything to her, and she was wonderful.

A foolish smile spread across Cinder’s face as her memories returned, bringing with them not only explanation but – more, so much more than that – warmth and light that pierced her soul and balmed it in equal measure.

Foolish because, as much as the sudden onrush of memories had momentarily blotted the fact from her mind, she was in the middle of a fight.

Laurel was not slow to take the opportunity; with a kick, she swept Cinder’s legs out from under her, breaking Cinder out of her reverie as the world – the real world, not the world of mind and memory that had been preoccupying her – tilted sideways, followed by sharp painful sensation as Laurel drove her dagger into Cinder’s stomach, hacking a chunk of her aura off even as she drove Cinder into the floor.

Laurel’s face was disfigured by a scowl as she raised her sabre to strike at Cinder’s face.

BANG!

The first shot from the rifle caught Laurel by surprise, hitting her square in the chest and sending her staggering backwards. Cardin worked the bolt, chambering another round, and fired again. Laurel parried the blow with her sabre. Cardin worked the bolt, fired again, and again, Laurel parried the blow – but in so doing meant that she could not parry the knife in Cinder’s hand as she slashed at Laurel’s shins with it. With her other hand, Cinder grabbed Laurel by the ankles, and it was her opponent’s turn to be hauled off her feet and onto the ground.

Cardin covered the distance between them, reversing the rifle and slamming the butt down onto Laurel’s face hard enough to shatter her remaining aura and knock her out for good measure. She groaned softly as she subsided into unconsciousness.

Cardin reversed his rifle again, pointing it at the comatose Laurel, even as he glanced at Cinder. “I know you said to leave it to you, but-”

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” Cinder replied, climbing to her feet. “She had me dead to rights, as it were, after I-”

“Spaced out?”

“Remembered everything,” Cinder corrected him. “I don’t know what happened, but… you must have felt it too, mustn’t you?”

“You mean that I remember who Sunset Shimmer is, sure,” Cardin said. “Fortunately for the both of us, she doesn’t mean as much to me as she does to you, so I was able to get over the shock faster.”

“Mhmm, I have to find her,” Cinder declared.

“Right now?”

“Do you know where she is?” Cinder demanded.

“No.”

“No,” Cinder agreed. “Neither do I. Neither does anyone. Which, since she would never just abandon us, means that she must be in trouble. She needs me. I have to go to her.”

She would do anything to help me. She did.

Cardin frowned. “I guess,” he murmured. “We were made to forget about her, but she wouldn’t have disappeared unless-”

He was cut off by a great booming sound, a thunderous noise like the detonation of an enormous bomb, shaking the Tower of the Sun as the noise echoed down to them.

“Or someone’s in trouble, at least,” Cardin finished.

Ruby remembered.

She remembered the first time they met, after the fight in the dust shop, and how Sunset had refused her offer to hang out afterwards. Thinking back, Ruby was struck by how lonely Sunset seemed as she walked away into the night. She remembered her first day in the locker rooms at Beacon and how uncomfortable she had felt getting changed where everyone could see her… until Sunset shielded Ruby from their gazes with her own body.

She remembered that it had been Sunset who had had the idea that they should all carve their initials on the wall, underneath the initials left by Mom and Dad, Uncle Qrow and Raven.

She remembered Sunset giving Ruby her mother’s diary and singing to her the night after the Forever Fall field trip.

She remembered Sunset always being there for her, no matter what. Sunset was always there for all her friends, without fail, but for Ruby most of all.

Ruby closed her eyes. I’m not alone. I never was.

Her body was wracked by a sob of mingled joy and sadness. Joy because she wasn’t alone any more; she had never been alone.

Sunset had always been there.

Sadness because she had forgotten that, allowed herself to forget that. How could she have forgotten so easily someone who had done so much for her? Even if something had been done to her, even if her memories had been taken and then given back, what did it say about her that she could forget so easily?

Sadness too, because as she remembered Sunset, she also remembered all the other things that Sunset had done. She remembered Sunset confessing the truth of what she had done during the Breach and how angry she had felt towards her… and how she had never forgotten it, no matter what Sunset had done since.

What she did was terrible.

What she did was refuse to do what the Sun Queen did so easily and sacrifice the few to save the many.

Well, maybe the Sun Queen was right?

Do I really believe that, even now?

I… I don’t know. But even if she wasn’t, that didn’t mean that she did the right thing!

Not even Sunset claims that she did the right thing any more.

That was true. Sunset had long ago stopped claiming that. And yet, when Ruby looked at Sunset, that was all she could see: the Breach, that one mistake, the terrible thing that she had done. She had never forgiven her for it, never let her live it down, blamed Sunset for everything to come out of it, even Yang’s death. She had been blind – blinded herself – to how much Sunset was hurting. To how much Ruby was hurting her.

Did I ever even ask her how she was feeling?

Distance from her memories, and their sudden return rushing back into her mind, gave her a new perspective. She still couldn’t agree with Sunset, but now… now she found it harder – nay, impossible – to hold it against her, to hold onto the grudge that she had clung to in her grief, to let it wipe out everything that Sunset had done for her and for everybody else. She had to find her.

She needed to find Sunset. She didn’t know where she was, but she had to…

Ruby opened her eyes, looking down upon the visage of Sunsprite Rose: serene, peaceful, lifeless. Sunsprite’s blood was upon Ruby’s hand, as well as staining her tunic and her yellow cloak and all the sand around.

An image flashed before Ruby’s eyes, Sunset’s face replacing that of Sunsprite: two eyes closed instead of one, her flaming her splayed out behind her, mingling with the blood which soaked through her jacket.

Ruby let out a choking sound. No. No, Sunset couldn’t be dead, not after Ruby had just gotten her back, not after she remembered, not after she saw things more clearly.

Then where is she? She’s always been there before when I’ve been in trouble, always.

That doesn’t mean she’s dead! Maybe-

An explosion thundering from above cut off all Ruby’s thoughts, interrupting the battle for a moment as all eyes were drawn upwards towards the sound, as dust fell from the ceiling and the tower trembled so fiercely that warriors were knocked off their feet by it and the combatants forced to separate and regroup lest they should all fall down together.

Tyrian, clinging to the wire mesh that ringed the pit, out of reach of Ember and Prince Rutherford, did not look upwards. However, he did cock his head one side and let out a musing sound as though the great boom meant something to him. He leapt away, jumping headlong into the press of battle raging around the pit, disappearing from Ruby’s sight.

Not that she was much concerned with him anyway, not right now.

“Sunset,” Ruby murmured. She didn’t know how she knew; she had no proof, but she knew anyway; she felt it in her soul with absolute certainty: that was where Sunset was; that was where she needed to go.

Maybe it’s my turn to save you for once.

Blood soaked Bon Bon's tunic and stained the inside of her armour; it felt warm and stuck upon her skin.

Her aura was gone, and Sami's semblance had told her exactly where to find the weak spot in Bon Bon's armour, beneath her armpit. Now, Bon Bon gasped, and her pained breathing came heavily as she clutched at the wound with one hand and leaned against the wall for support.

She was going to die. She knew that. A part of her had always known it, since she had failed to catch Sami by surprise. The reindeer faunus was too quick for her, too nimble, too vicious. It was just no contest.

There was blood on Sami's knife. Bon Bon's blood. Sami's eyes glinted wickedly as she gazed upon her victim. There was no mercy in those eyes; Sami meant to kill her, and to take pleasure in it, what was more. Bon Bon was going to die.

And yet, that did not trouble her. Not anymore. It wasn't exactly that she wanted to die, but she was prepared to, if it came to it. She had done some bad things in her life, and even more stupid ones, but this... this was not something that she regretted. It might have been stupid, but it had at least been right, and if this was the end, then it was a better end than many that she could have had recently.

A better end than Dove had been granted by fate.

She, at least, would get to go out like a huntress, even if she didn't really deserve to.

I did the right thing in the end. I suppose there are worse epitaphs.

Bon Bon stared into Sami's eyes. "Go on, then," she growled, as Whirlwind slipped from her grasp. "Do it."

Sami smirked and took her first step forward.

And Bon Bon remembered.

As much to the point, so did Sami. Bon Bon remembered the person who had taken offence to her mistreatment of Blake, but Sami seemed to be remembering the reason – and it made sense to Bon Bon now, why Sami hadn't run off earlier – why she had stuck with them for so long: out of fear of Sunset Shimmer and her power.

Sami's eyes widened, and she looked around her in a startled fashion, seeming to expect to find Sunset lurking in her shadow, waiting to spring out at her and exact punishment for all of her misdeeds in Sunset's absence.

When the world exploded above them, Sami practically jumped, and stumbled, and Bon Bon was left to wish that she had a mite of aura left because now, now, she might have taken Sami by surprise.

Unfortunately, hurting as she was, that was probably a little beyond her now.

Whatever the cause of that explosion might have been, it was Tyrian who caught Sami by surprise, not Sunset, landed nimbly next to her, idly cutting down a warrior of the Summer Fire clan who was nearby. "Come on," he snapped. "We're leaving."

Sami blinked rapidly; the words of her new master seemed to recall her to some kind of sense. "What? We're going? But-"

"We'll find another way," Tyrian declared. "Come on, we've wasted enough time here."

Sami glanced at Bon Bon, helpless before her, and it was plain from the look in her eyes that she wanted to finish her opponent off first, but it was equally clear from the look on her face that she didn't dare to defy Tyrian in this, so she simply nodded her head and said, "Of course. Lead the way," and followed him where he led, carving a bloody swathe through Rangers and clan warriors alike, cutting a way for them out of the fighting.

Bon Bon slid down the wall. Her head was spinning. She wanted to sleep, even though she knew she shouldn't, but it was so hard to keep her eyes open.

"Bon Bon! BON BON!"

Bon Bon blinked lazily; the face in front of was blurry but, at the same time, unmistakable. "Lyra. I'm glad you're here. Here, at the-"

"Don't talk like that!" Lyra snapped. "You're going to be okay. Stay with me, Bon Bon, you have to stay with me!"

Three rings.

Three rings gleamed on Sunset’s fingers.

She had put on the last of them as she climbed the stairs in pursuit of that fleeing worm who dared to wear her face and profane the name of Sunset Shimmer. The last of them, the silver ring, the pegasus ring, the ring that sang to her in airy, operatic cries.

She wore all three things, and it felt glorious. Power flowed through her, the power of all three pony races magnified at once. She truly was more than Sunset Shimmer, more than a pony, more even than an alicorn, more powerful than Twilight or Celestia or any of them! She was Nemesis itself, as inevitable as the setting sun, as inescapable as time.

Her other self had been so full of pride that she had thought that she could transgress without punishment; she had thought that she could put Ruby to death without consequence.

Perhaps men could not touch her, but Sunset could. Now, she could give herself all that she deserved; now, she could do anything.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes fixed upon her other self. How she hated her. How she despised Sunset Shimmer. Ruby had spoken true; she had ruined everything, from the moment she had shown herself.

I wish I’d never met you.

She could not bring Ruby back. Even with all her power, she had not the magic to restore life from out of death.

She could not save Ruby, but she would make Sunset regret what she had done.

Sunset held out one hand, wreathed in green magical light, and the Sun Queen’s golden mask flew off her face and into Sunset’s waiting grip. Sunset glanced idly at it, such a ludicrous thing, such a pathetic piece of play acting: hiding her face, going out in disguise pretending to be someone, telling made up stories about her life, talking of myth-making and legend-building as though she were some great hero of the elder days.

With one hand, Sunset crushed the mask, crumpling it into an unrecognisable mess before she dumped the twisted gold onto the floor.

“You are no legend,” she sneered, advancing with a leonine grace upon her prey. “You are no myth.” She could see the other Sunset’s face now, her eyes wide with alarm. She liked that. She wanted more of it; she wanted her whole face to be convulsed with fear. “Legends are made by deeds,” she said. “By great actions that resound through the ages. What have you done but lie and trick and steal and tell stories?” Sunset shook her head. “You are no legend. You are nothing.”

“I am Sunset Shimmer, Sun Queen of Freeport and Estmorland!” the Sun Queen roared, and as she spoke, she cast off her royal robes to reveal that beneath the cloth she wore a shirt of mail, the rings of which glistened in the firelight. “I have made myself a queen, and though you take my life, I will die a queen still.” Once more, the flames consumed her, rising from every part of her body. “And I won’t go down without a fight!”

It might have been impressive, once. It might once have made her look something more than human, a spirit of fire itself. Perhaps that was why those fools like Dawn had followed her. But it did not impress Sunset Shimmer; she was nothing, just a liar with a glib tongue and a little charisma who talked saps into following where she led, even though the only place she led them was to their deaths.

Saps, or sapphires.

Sunset scowled, and a low growl rose from her throat. She would kill her, and she would not be stayed or halted by some flames.

Sunset called upon a mere touch of the magic at her command, conjuring the suit of magical armour around herself that she had once cast to impress Lady Nikos, in those days that seemed so long ago.

Thus armoured, she attacked. She was faster than the Sun Queen, she was stronger than the Sun Queen, and the armour allowed her to strike at will without worrying about losing her aura in the process. She had more than enough magic to keep up this spell, replenishing the strength of it even as it was worn away by the flames, and as the Phoenix Armour of the Sun Queen met the magical armour of the forsaken huntress, it was the magical armour that proved superior. She hit the Sun Queen in the gut so that she doubled over, then kneed her in the burning face. She hit whatever part of her enemy that she could reach, fighting with no technique but the strength of an earth pony magnified many, many times over. She beat the Sun Queen’s guard aside whenever she let her enemy recover enough to offer one, fighting not like the wind but rather a wave that simply crashes onto the shore and sweeps away all before it. She pummelled, she pounded, she kicked, she beat the Sun Queen until all her precious flames, the armour of which she had once boasted so proudly, ebbed away to nothing as her aura shattered under Sunset’s onslaught.

Sunset threw her away; she hit the floor with a crunch as her face struck the stone. She lay still. Sunset feared that she had killed herself too soon, before the fear could properly take hold, but before she could rage at her enemy for cheating her of all the vengeance she desired, the Sun Queen groaned and raised her head. Her nose was broken, and she was bleeding from it, her face smeared red. She spat blood onto the stone floor.

“All I did,” she began, “was for-”

Sunset shut her up with a spell that sewed up her mouth, or took her mouth away, depending on how you wanted to look at it, leaving her with nothing but flesh between her chin and nose. She wasn’t interested in hearing what she had to say; nothing that she could say could justify what she had done.

She let her other self panic for a moment, taking glee from the ‘mm-mm’ noises that she made, unable to get any words out, before she reversed the spell.

“You’re right,” Sunset told her, in a voice as sharp as a blade. “You are Sunset Shimmer. But you will not share in infamy of my name any longer.” She raised both hands, and outside the tower, a great storm began to rage, and the pealing of the thunder could be heard within, penetrating the stone walls to echo rumblingly in their chamber.

The Sun Queen looked around, and now she looked alarmed, as the thunder roared from all around the tower, as the wind howled, as the flashes of lighting illuminating the bleak night sky, casting their shadows across the room.

Sunset smirked and held out her right hand, glowing with magic until she could no longer see her hand, until it was obscured by emerald light burning as brightly as the sun. Sunset turned, almost twirling, sweeping her hand around herself as magic erupted from out of it, destroying the top of the tower.

The walls exploded, the ancient stone which had survived long years, centuries of neglect, war, and occupation falling in instants to the magic of Sunset Shimmer; the pinnacle of the tower fell, descending from on high to crush what remained of the curtain wall and fill the ruined castle with rubble; stones and beams and other debris fell down, a rain of ruin descending.

The two Sunsets now stood – or knelt – at the new top of the tower, upon the highest pinnacle that yet remained, while the storm howled around them and the wind lashed them and the lightning crackled and the thunder roared.

“You are the same as I am!” the Sun Queen shouted, howling to be heard over the roar of the storm. “We both sought to protect what was ours, no matter the cost.”

“The same?” Sunset shouted. “No!” Did she still think that? Could she still believe that? What would it take to show her better?

Show, show… yes, I will show her the truth. I will show her what I really am.

Ruby thought I was a monster, after all. I should not disappoint her.

Sunset clenched her hands into fists and concentrated. A monster. A monster of vengeance, a monster to punish the guilty, a monster to cleanse this filthy town of all its sins. They were all guilty, they were all complicit, they would all suffer by her hand for her hubris.

Sunset screamed as she was consumed by her own magic, burned up by it, transfigured by it, clothes and all, until the only part of herself that remained were the rings upon her fingers, fingers that had become claws on which the dark regalia glowed.

Sunset had remade herself, fashioning an entirely new body out of rage and grief and torment. She was no huntress now; she was no longer the leader of Team Sapphire, no longer the sacrificial lamb upon whose shoulders the sins of Vale had all been piled up. Her skin was red and raw, her limbs were long and powerful, a pair of leathery wings so crimson they looked stained with blood had burst out of her back, the whites of her eyes had now turned black, and instead of hair like fire, her hair was fire, an inferno blazing on her scalp.

It had been agony to so transform herself; it had felt as though she was being flayed, every part of herself ripped to its component atoms and then put back together, reassembled into something else, something different, something better.

“You and I,” Sunset declared. “Are nothing alike.”

Now, the Sun Queen looked afraid. Now, she looked terrified. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared, her newly recovered lips trembled in fear; her hands shook too. Now, she comprehended her position and what folly it had been to challenge so great a power as Sunset had possessed.

You thought that because you shared my name that we were equals, and that you could take from me what was most precious in the world.

I hope you understand that it was never so.

“Please,” the Sun Queen pleaded. “Please, I… I can be of service to you. I can place my power at your disposal, I-”

Sunset raised her hand, and her other self was surrounded by the green glow of telekinesis as Sunset lifted her up, still begging for her life, writhing and wriggling, into the heart of the storm.

“If you would die a queen,” Sunset growled, “then try for at least a little dignity.”

The fear upon the Sun Queen’s face was replaced by a flash of anger. “Damn you!”

Sunset blinked. “You already did,” she said, before she called down the lightning.

Forks and tridents of flashing white lightning erupted from out of the clouds, not random now but directed according to Sunset’s will, and it was Sunset’s will that they should strike the Sun Queen, the one who wore her face. The lightning hammered her from all sides, rippling up and down her body while she screamed in agony, and her shrieking was a delight to Sunset’s ears.

“Ruby,” she whispered. “Please accept this offering of vengeance. Accept this offering… and forgive me.”

The lightning stopped. For a moment, the Sun Queen hung suspended in the air. Then Sunset struck her with a magical blast powered by all her wrath, all her sorrow, all her desire to make someone, anyone, pay for what had been done to Ruby.

A desire to punish the one responsible: herself.

The Sun Queen was consumed by Sunset’s blast, and when the magic died, not a trace of her remained.

Sunset snorted. “So much for her.”

She rose off the floor and into the air, to where she could look down upon the city by the sea. Freeport was lit up, and from the streets arose the sounds of voices raised in panic. She could see them looking out of their windows, running to and fro in the streets, screaming and shouting. They were undeterred by the storm, for they had seen or heard the tower fall, and now they wondered what was to become of them.

What was to become of them? Perhaps it might be said that they were not to blame, that all they needed was a more just hand than they had been given. In place of a Sun Queen, a dark queen might suit them better, or at the very least rule them better, whether they wanted her or not.

No. No, that was not what she desired. That part of her, that sought a crown, had died long ago; the vestiges of her that Amber had sought to stir up had died with Ruby.

There was nothing that she wanted now but to see all these maggots put to death.

She would kill them all. For what they had done to Ruby, for what they had done to her, for the fact that she had so much anger waiting to unleash upon the world, because she had the power to strike them down she would.

The destruction she would wreak tonight would be glorious!

“Sunset?”

Sunset gasped, bearing her demonic fangs as she whirled around. Ruby stood not in the doorway, because that had been destroyed, but at the top of the stairs.

“Ruby?” Sunset whispered. “You… you’re alive?”

Dawn lied to me?

Hah! She must have sought to put me off balance! Fool! How are your purposes fallen upon your head!

Never before had she been so glad to be mistaken.

Never before had she wanted to see Ruby less.

“I, yeah,” Ruby said, her voice confused-sounding. “You… Sunset, what happened to you?”

Sunset laughed, throwing back her head and joining her cackling to the sound of the storm that raged around them, that buffeted Ruby with wind and rain. She laughed, and while she laughed, Cinder joined Ruby at the top of the stairs, staring at her eyes that were clouded and inscrutable.

“What happened to me?” Sunset repeated. “Don’t you recognise me, Ruby Rose? This is what I always was: a monster.”

“I never thought that you were a monster-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Sunset roared, and the flames that were her hair burned higher in spite of the rain and the wind.

Ruby shrank back, bumping into Cinder behind her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for… for everything. For all the things I said, for all the things I did. I… I don’t know how I… I’m sorry.”

“Where is the Queen?” Cinder asked, her voice soft and smooth and even.

“Dead,” Sunset declared dismissively. “And the rest of this town will follow.”

“What?” Ruby cried. “No, Sunset, you can’t!”

“'Can’t'?” Sunset snarled. “There is no such word as can’t, Ruby, when one has the power that I possess. I can lay waste to Freeport, I can kill everyone within these walls, I can burn a path from here to the mountains if I wish to!” She laughed once more. “And why not?” she demanded. “You spurned me, Ruby Rose; you called me villain. Well, since I am a villain, then beware my wrath! I shall be such a villain that the world shall tremble!” She paused. “And it shall begin here, in Freeport, and when they come and see the empty shell that I have left of it, they shall know the cost of defying me.”

“What of the clans?” Cinder asked. “The Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire Clans aided us; they fought to save Ruby’s life. Will they be punished for that?”

“No,” Sunset said at once. “They shall be spared, but all the rest-”

“You’ll leave alone,” Cinder declared.

Sunset’s raw and angry red lips curled into a sneer. “Will I? And why is that?”

“Because that is who you are,” Cinder said, stepping lightly around Ruby and walking towards Sunset. Her heels clicked upon the stone floor. “You are no monster.”

“Others see me less generously than you.”

“The Sunset that I know taught me that we don’t have to be what others think we are,” Cinder said. “We can be more; we can be so much more. We can be so much better than they think.”

“And for what?” Sunset demanded. “It never changes the way they see us! Our sins will never be forgiven; well then, why seek for grace?”

“Because it changes the way we see ourselves,” Cinder insisted. “Please, Sunset, come back to us.”

“'Come back'?” Sunset repeated incredulously. “Come back to chains, come back to disdain, come back to servitude? No. Whatever I am now, at least I’m free. I don’t have to do what they say, I don’t have to be their sacrifice… I don’t have to care what they think. I’m free now, free of all of them.” She looked away from Cinder, and at Ruby once more. “I am free of you, Ruby Rose, free of your morals and your cant. Your disapproval has no power over me any longer!”

“I never wanted power-”

“You sought to make me a slave to your morality,” Sunset cried. “To cast me in chains of rectitude, to make me tremble at your frowns, to squirm in agony at your displeasure; well, no more! The fears that once controlled me cannot get to me at all now. And you, too, Cinder Fall. I will not exchange one mistress for another, one constraint for another.”

“Then you will be alone?” Cinder asked. “Is that what you want?”

“At least when I’m alone, I’m free.”

“Free to do what?” Cinder demanded.

“Whatever I please, to whomever I wish; do you realise what they did to me?” Sunset screamed. “They stole my body! They violated my mind and soul! And they will pay, all of them, for what they’ve done!”

She spread her wings and prepared to descend with vengeance on the town.

They wanted magic, then magic is what I will give them.

“No!” Ruby cried, crossing the distance between the two of them in a burst of rose petals. She reformed, her hands small and pale as they reached out to touch the hand of Sunset Shimmer. “I won’t lose you, not again!”

Sunset had no time to speak before their hands met.

There was a blinding light that consumed everything.

We Fight As One

We Fight As One

The world was white and featureless.

Ruby looked around, turning in place until she had completed a full revolution. Nope, there was nothing here, nothing at all. Just white, featureless nothing. A void; no, not a void, not really. It looked like it at first, but Ruby was mistaken in that; if it was a void, if it was really nothing, then she’d be able to see for miles around, as far as her eyes could see. Instead, she could hardly see anything at all. Everything was covered up with mist, blocking her view. Was she in Sunset’s mind? This hadn’t happened to her the last time she’d been here.

Maybe she was dead? No, it couldn’t be that, because… well, Sunset would never do that, no matter how far gone she was.

Maybe I missed her hand and fell off the tower.

No, that can’t be it either, because I felt something.

So what’s going on here, and why is it different from last time?

“Sunset?” Ruby called. “Sunset, can you hear me? Are you there?”

There was no answer but the sound of sobbing. Sobbing, somewhere in the fog.

“Sunset?” Ruby called again, and as she called, she pushed her way through the fog in the direction of the sobbing sound. The milky white mist that obscured this otherwise blank space parted before her, revealing a doorway. A Beacon doorway; what was more, a doorway into one of the dorm rooms. This particular doorway sat in front of her, disconnected from any wall, just free standing, a door sat down amidst nothingness.

Ruby frowned at it and walked around onto the other side of the door; her footsteps, as she moved, had no echo, just as the mist left no trace of water droplets on her skin or clothes. She didn’t feel cold at all, although she probably would have done if she’d been out in the fog. It was as though she wasn’t really here at all… or as though there was no real ‘here’ for her to be.

Ruby tried not to think about that as she walked around the door; there was nothing there, not even the other side of the door. Rather, the door seemed to flip around as she circled it so that it was once more presenting its front, or its external side, to her.

Ruby’s frown deepened, but as she completed her circumference of the Beacon door, she saw a sight that made that frown disappear from her face, even as her mouth formed an astonished O and a gasp escaped her lips. Another door had appeared in front of her, perhaps ten feet away from the first door that reminded her so much of Beacon Academy.

This other door that now faced her was not a Beacon door. It was a door she knew ever better than that.

It was the doorway to home, to the wooden cabin that her Dad had built to raise his family.

“What is going on here?” Ruby murmured.

“Yes, it is rather surprising, isn’t it?”

“Gah!” Ruby cried out, hopping backwards away from the sudden intrusion of another voice into this otherwise lonely space. “Professor Ozpin?”

Professor Ozpin smiled genially down upon her as he emerged from out of the mist. “I’m afraid not, Miss Rose, although I’m sure that, if I truly were myself – or some new version of myself – I would tell you how very glad I am to see you again.”

“But… if you’re not Professor Ozpin,” Ruby murmured, “then who are you? What is this place?”

“This place, as you have surmised, Miss Rose, is nowhere,” Professor Ozpin explained without as yet explaining anything. “It is what you might call a link.”

“A link,” Ruby murmured. “You mean, like between my mind and Sunset’s mind?”

Professor Ozpin nodded approvingly. “Precisely, Miss Rose.”

“But how?” Ruby asked. “I touched Sunset, but… this didn’t happen the last time that she used her semblance on me.”

“Semblances can evolve,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Or it is possible that your magic interfered in the operation of Miss Shimmer’s semblance.”

“How?”

Professor Ozpin chuckled. “My dear Miss Rose, I’m not really here. I am a creation of your thoughts amalgamated with those of Miss Shimmer; I have this form only because you both associate it with wisdom, which is a great compliment but does not make me wise. I know nothing more than the two of you, and my powers are the limits of your joint ability to conjecture. I have my guesses, which are really your guesses, but I cannot say if they are right.”

“Can you tell me if I’m right?” Ruby asked. “This door is Sunset, isn’t it?” she said, pointing to the Beacon door beside her. “And the other door is me.”

Professor Ozpin nodded. “Indeed so, Miss Rose.”

“And if I go through my door, will I wake up?”

“I really can’t say, Miss Rose; only you can answer that.”

“Me?” Ruby cried. “How am I supposed to know how this works?”

“Surely you know why you are here?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“I need to talk to Sunset,” Ruby replied. “Before she makes a terrible mistake.”

Once more, she heard the sobbing sound, the sound that seemed now to be coming from everywhere and yet at the same time from nowhere.

It was coming from behind the door, Ruby was sure of it.

“Thank you, Professor,” Ruby said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“No, I haven’t, Miss Rose.”

“No, you haven’t,” Ruby admitted. “But thank you anyway.”

She grabbed the handle of the Beacon door, Sunset’s door, and pushed it open.

She walked through the open doorway and into a dorm room: their dorm room, laid just like it had been for their abortive year at school.

Ruby’s attention was not on the room, the décor, or the decorations, however; it was upon Sunset Shimmer, who sat on her bed with her knees up and her arms wrapped around her legs. Her ears drooped down into her hair, and her tail hung listlessly off the bed.

Her eyes were closed. She hadn’t seen Ruby come in; it didn’t seem as though she’d heard it either.

Did I do this? Is this my fault?

Has she wept all this while?

“Sunset?” Ruby said, speaking louder than she would have liked to make sure that Sunset noticed her.

Sunset opened her eyes. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and more of them welled up in her eyes. “Ruby,” she whispered. “What are you…?” She sighed. “My semblance.”

“You must have thought something was up when you ended up here, right?”

“I was just too glad to give it much thought,” Sunset admitted. “I… I know that what I’m about to do is terrible, but… but I can’t stop myself.”

“Yes,” Ruby said, “you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You just said that there’s no such thing as ‘can’t’ for you,” Ruby reasoned. “And you’re right; think of all the things that you’ve already done that other people thought were impossible. You brought Amber back, you saved Cinder-”

“I was focussed then,” Sunset said. “It’s too strong now, Ruby, my… I’ve lost control. My anger, my desire for freedom, they’re too strong.”

“Freedom,” Ruby whispered. “Freedom from me.” She phrased it as a statement, not a question.

Sunset blinked and bowed her head for a moment as she wiped away her tears on the sleeve of her jacket. “Dawn told me you were dead. I… I thought I’d lost you.”

“I did lose you, sort of,” Ruby said. “They made me forget about you. They made all of us forget you.”

“Did you feel better off?”

“Sunset, don’t,” Ruby said. “Please, just… don’t. Don’t ask me that.”

“You can say yes, if you want,” Sunset urged. “I won’t mind.”

That was a lie, or at least Ruby thought it was, but at the same time, she didn’t think that now was the best time to argue the point. “Nothing made sense without you, Sunset,” she said. “Not for Cinder, certainly not for me. Not for any of us. I… I’m sorry, Sunset; I treated you badly and-”

“And you were right,” Sunset interrupted her. “What I did was-”

“Wrong,” Ruby said. “But I treated it like it was unforgivable. And that was wrong of me. Do you… do you think that you can forgive me for that?”

Sunset got up off her bed. She turned away from Ruby, facing the wall, looking out towards the window. “I’ll never have the strength to kill you, Ruby. I could tell you that I understand you, that I think you’re right, that I’ll make the choice that you’d want me to make next time, but that’s not true. I’ll never be that person. I’ll never be able to condemn you to death for the greater good.”

“I’m not asking you to kill me,” Ruby said. “I’m asking you to let me die alongside you. Can you do that?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “I fear not,” she whispered, and for a moment, Ruby felt anger welling up inside of her, anger not only towards Sunset but towards Yang too, for throwing her over the wall before the battle was joined, anger towards all of the big sisters or would-be sisters who though that they could – that they ought to – take responsibility for her, treat her like a child, deny her choices, the very choices that they grabbed hold of so eagerly. She bit her tongue and forced herself to calm down, reminded herself that she wasn’t here to fight with Sunset. Besides, before she could say anything, Sunset had spoken again. “But… but I can try, if that will make you happy.”

“'Happy' isn’t the right word,” Ruby murmured.

“Isn’t it?” Sunset asked.

“What do you mean?” Ruby demanded. “Do you think I want to die?”

“Don’t you?”

Ruby’s mouth opened, but no words emerged. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to say to that, she wasn’t sure what she could say to that because the truth was… the truth was that Sunset wasn’t wrong. She’d agreed to die at the hands of Sunsprite, she’d done nothing to defend herself against Tyrian, she’d rushed towards danger when she heard the explosion coming from above… the loss of her memories had momentarily lifted her out of her despond – and there was no way she was going to mention that to Sunset – but then, Sunsprite’s betrayal and that of the Queen had shaken her so badly that there was nothing left. All her armour had been stripped away, all her resolve ground down to nothing.

“I thought that I was all alone,” she whispered. “But I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone.”

Sunset took a few moments before she replied. Her tail twitched. Her brow furrowed. “I’m not your sister, Ruby; I never was. I… I was a fool to forget that.”

“Were you?” Ruby asked.

“Wasn’t I?”

“Sunset,” Ruby said. “Why didn’t you stop the train?”

“This again?”

“Please,” Ruby begged. “This will be the last time, I promise. Why didn’t you stop the train?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Tears welled up in her eyes once more. When she spoke, her voice was deeper, and she coughed as though she had phlegm in her throat. “Because I loved you too much to lose you,” she confessed. “Ruby, I… I wish that you could look through my eyes and see yourself the way that I see you. Coming to Beacon wasn’t the best decision I ever made; stopping at a late night dust shop was. My… my whole life changed on the night that I met you. I was lost, I was lost and alone, and I didn’t know where I was going or why I was going there. Going to Beacon… I was like a general leading his army into the wilderness just because I was at my wits’ end for anything else to do. But then, you… you came into my life in a blur of rose petals, and you… you showed me the way. Your kindness, your courage, your… you are my light of hope, Ruby Rose. You showed me the way. That’s why I didn’t stop the train. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of that light being snuffed out.” She frowned. “But I snuffed it out anyway, didn’t I?”

Ruby was quiet, but she nodded her head. Sunset already knew the answer, so why deny it?

“I’m sorry,” Sunset murmured. “I’m so, so sorry, Ruby. I just… I’ve made so many mistakes. Of which, forgetting that you weren’t my sister-”

“Wasn’t one of them,” Ruby declared, cutting Sunset off before she could finish.

Sunset stopped. Her eyes widened a little. Her mouth hung open. Her tail twitched once again. “Ruby,” she began, “what are you-?”

“Why do you think,” Ruby began, “that it hurt me so much to find out what you did? Jaune and Pyrrha, Team Rosepetal, even Blake, they were all able to forgive you, but not me. I was the only one who couldn’t let it go, the only one who couldn’t forget what you did or forgive you for it. I was… I was the one who felt hurt the most, why?”

Sunset hesitated. “Because you’re so good and noble.”

“Because I loved you, and you betrayed me!” Ruby cried. “Do you know what I saw when I looked at you? Do you know what you’d see if you looked through my eyes? You’d see a rock, you’d see someone who was always there for me, whether it was shielding me from the sight of perverts in the locker room to giving me my mother’s words, singing me to sleep, comforting me about Jaune, fighting alongside me… you were always there. Always there for me. No matter what was going on, no matter whether it was something serious or something small, I always knew that I could count on you. Until… until I found out that I couldn’t. Until the day you told the truth about what happened in that tunnel, I thought that… that you were someone who would never hurt me or let me down. And then I found out that that wasn’t true, and I… if you forgot that you weren’t my sister, then I forgot too. I loved you, and so I couldn’t forgive you.” Now it was Ruby’s turn to pause, to hesitate. “That was a mistake, not allowing you to make mistakes just because I’d forgotten that you could.”

“It was a pretty big mistake,” Sunset allowed.

“That doesn’t mean that it didn’t deserve to be forgiven,” Ruby replied. A mischievous smile sprouted on her face. “Hint hint.”

Sunset’s face cracked into a smile as a chuckle escaped from her.

Ruby found herself smiling too, in spite of everything that happened. “Sunset, in spite of everything, in spite of all that you’ve been through… I think that you can still be a great huntress if you want to be. You can still do amazing things. Much more amazing than you can do as some kind of she-demon.” She held out one small, pale hand towards Sunset. “So, what do you say?”

Sunset looked at her hand, and then her eyes flickered back up to Ruby’s face. “I can change, Ruby,” she said. “I can try to change. I can be better than I was before. But you have to as well.”

“What?” Ruby gasped. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you so eager to die, Ruby?” Sunset asked.

“I…” Ruby found that her mouth had dried up, and the words along with it. She couldn’t just deny it; Sunset… Sunset knew her better than that. That was the downside of having someone who had been by her side throughout everything that she’d been through: there was nowhere to hide and no way to just deny it. “Because a huntress who isn’t willing to lay down their life-”

“Doesn’t deserve the name of huntress, but you’re positively eager to lay down your life,” Sunset declared, her voice hardening. “You don’t accept the possibility of death, you embrace it; from yourself, from the people around you, why?”

“You know why!” Ruby shouted. “Mom sacrificed herself to protect the world; how can I do less?”

“Do you really believe that?” Sunset demanded. “Do you really believe that your mother didn’t fight like hell to come back to you every single time?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because that would mean that she failed!” Ruby shouted, the words flying out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her hands flew to her mouth, and then she froze, still and silent, wishing that she could take them back… and at the same time wishing that she could not.

“Because that would mean that she failed,” she repeated, softer now. “Like you failed. And it was… pretending was easier than forgiving her, for not coming back, for abandoning us.”

Sunset looked into Ruby’s eyes. “Forgiving our mothers can be hard.”

Ruby blinked. She found that tears were coming to her own eyes now. “So can forgiving our sisters, it seems like.”

Sunset sniggered. “Yeah, seems like, doesn’t it?” She knelt down in front of Ruby and held out her hand. “I’ll tell you what: I swear, upon our bond as partners and as so much more to one another, that I will never again break the oaths of a Beacon huntress the way I did. I have not said the words, and most likely never will, but my might will uphold the weak from this day forth. I will throw my body into the breach if it is necessary. And I will…” Sunset’s body shuddered, as if she were struggling with some great pain. “I will let you do the same, standing beside me. Live or die, we fight as one. But, and this is important, you have to be a little circumspect with this generosity and stop seeing every little fight as a chance to martyr yourself.”

Ruby didn’t reply straight away. From Sunset, this was… this was all that she could have hoped for. More than that, in fact. Sunset so disdained the notion of sacrifice, the idea of giving anyone’s life in trade for anybody else’s life, the most she had been willing to concede before was to say that she would find a way to save everyone without having to make trade-offs.

And to be honest, she probably would. She was Sunset Shimmer, after all, and she had a habit of making the impossible possible. If anyone could save everyone, or find a way in which everyone might be saved, then it was Sunset. And yet, here she was, conceding that that might not be possible, that there might come an occasion in which they had to give their lives for others, and that… that was not nothing. From Sunset, that was quite an admission indeed.

One that she had been willing to make, for Ruby.

Sunset wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But then, Ruby wasn’t perfect either, and yet, Sunset had found it in herself to love her in spite of her imperfections.

And Sunset, outside of her most egotistical moments which were probably not meant to be taken seriously, had never claimed to be perfect. Ruby had never claimed to be perfect either, but it seemed that she’d allowed people to think she was… and she’d kind of acted that way too, talking down – or at least thinking down – to others as though she alone knew what a true huntress was and they were all letting her down for falling short of that ideal.

But what was that ideal, really? Not even a memory; rather, the replacement for memories that she didn’t have, a creed cobbled together out of a refusal to accept that her mother might have been flawed.

When it’s our flaws that make us work, in the end.

I have been far too proud, for far too long, and hurt the person who means the most to me because of it.

She wouldn’t let anyone else die to save herself… but that didn’t mean she needed to give her life for nothing either.

Ruby placed her hand in Sunset’s palm. “I promise,” she said.

Sunset smiled, her fingers closing around Ruby’s hand as she pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve missed having you on my side, Ruby Rose.”

Ruby wrapped her free arm around Sunset. “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered. “Let’s not fight again, okay?”

Sunset shook her head, her hair tickling Ruby’s face. “Live or die, we fight as one.”

“Live or die, we fight as one,” Ruby agreed.

“Live or die,” they said in unison. “We fight as one!”

The dorm room was consumed with white light, blinding light, light that consumed everything until Ruby could see nothing at all, feel nothing, hear nothing.

Until she felt the last flecks of rain from the dying storm pitter-pattering against her cheek.

Until she felt Sunset’s jacket clenched in her fist once more, Sunset’s hair tickling her nose.

She opened her eyes. She was still embracing Sunset, not in the dorm room now but atop the ruined Tower of the Sun, with the dark clouds clearing away to reveal the shattered moon above.

And Cinder watching them, a fond look upon her face.

I guess Sunset isn’t the only one I owe an apology too.

Sunset, too, opened her eyes. She was herself again, no demon now, her skin returned from raw, flayed red to its normal colour, her hair proper hair that only looked like fire instead of being fire, her wings disappeared, her clothes returned. The rings of gold, silver, and iron still gleamed upon her fingers, but as Sunset pulled away from Ruby, they began to glow, brighter and brighter, until they were illuminating the top of the tower, a beacon of light that blazed out across Freeport, and as they glowed, the rings dissolved, turning to dust before Ruby’s eyes, fading into nothingness.

Sunset clenched her hand into a fist, a ragged breath escaping her. “Ruby,” she said, “I-”

“Nope,” Ruby said, smiling at her. “You don’t have to apologise any more. It’s over now. It’s done. We don’t need to mention it again.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to say that either,” Ruby said.

Sunset looked up at her. “I’m glad to have you back, Ruby Rose.”

“I’m glad to have you back too, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset chuckled. “We should probably think about what we do next,” she admitted. “We’re in a bit of a-”

The sound of a horn-call split the air, a horn blowing once, twice, three times in rapid succession from the hills that surrounded Freeport. The thrice wound horn – three blasts, for the coming of the grimm – echoed down from the hills to the town, allowed to fade for a few moments into silence before its alarm was swiftly taken up by the ringing of the bells, chiming across Freeport, spreading the warning of the monsters without and calling the city to arms.

“The grimm!” Ruby cried. “Tyrian! The Sun Queen was right; they are going to destroy Freeport; maybe-”

“Ruby!” Sunset cried sharply. “What did you just promise me?”

Ruby looked into Sunset’s eyes, sharp and stern. “I… I know,” she stammered. “I just… we have to fight, for Freeport, in spite of what the Sun Queen did. We have to fight.”

“And we will,” Sunset promised. “Together.” She laid her hands on Ruby’s shoulders. “Live or die, we fight as one.”

Ruby nodded gravely. “Live or die, we fight as one.”

Love Like You

Love Like You

Sombra the Great, King of Kings and Lord of the World, was not accustomed to defeat.

At least, so he would have liked to say.

Sadly, the days when he might boast as he rode in a chariot at the head of his legions that his armies had never known defeat were long gone now. Too often had he tasted of the bitter draught of failure.

His path to this moment had begun with failure, the day that Ozma bested him at the Pylian gate and wrenched out his heart from his still living form. Cursed be his soul, from this day to the very end of days! Let him know nought but loss and misfortune! In spite of everything, in spite of his wretched form, his hateful condition, his servitude to Salem, Sombra remained glad that he yet lived upon the surface of the world if it meant that he could harry Ozma and his servants with war and wrath whenever his strength allowed it.

If my fate is strife forevermore, then at least I may strive against a man I hate more grievously than ever hate was ever borne before.

All failures followed from that single, first defeat, when Ozma had bested him in single combat and forced him to withdraw his armies home from Pylos. Had it not been for that, if his sword had been swifter or if Ozma had yielded to him, if Pylos had opened up its gates instead of daring defiance of his armies…

So many ifs, and all of them long past consideration. Pylos is nought but dust now, and the first bones of wretched Ozma too, and all the men who marched with me to make an empire less than that.

Not even their memories endure in any mind save mine.

Failure had followed upon failure; stung by that first defeat, brooding upon it, he had entered a league with Ozma’s serpent-tongued widow, blinded by the promises of power that she had showered before his eyes. And from that had led to this, his accursed new form, no man now but a monster born of magic, touched by darkness. Later, when he had begun to stretch forth his strength anew upon the world, he had been bested once again by Salem the Deceiver and by Ozma both, and bound in magic beneath their castle for untold years.

Until now, when he had been set forth upon this quest in servitude to one whom he found hateful, unleashed with his companions in misfortune to hunt down the deceiver's enemies, only for them to best him again when he had fallen on them at the hillfort.

Too many defeats had Sombra known, but the draught remained no less bitter for having been supped on too many times.

He did not wish to drink of it again.

He would not. This time, he would do all that he set out to do: the city would fall, and Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose would perish, and his task – their task – would be half done.

Since it was their task, given to them jointly, then by all justice, it ought to have been completed jointly, but Tirek had taken himself off alone to who knew where, and as for Selene and the Storm King, they sat upon the ground beside him, and though the grimm masks which they endured did not allow for great expressiveness, nevertheless, he did not sense in them any great eagerness to aid him in this matter.

“Will you go forth unto the field?” he demanded of them. “Or will you sit, like idle groundlings at a play, and take in the spectacle of my endeavours upon your behalf?”

“If you are so generous as to labour in my part, taking my share of the burden, then who am I to say you may not do it?” Selene asked casually. “And besides, you are Sombra the Great, are you not? Surely so puissant a captain, such a lord of war and nonpareil in the fields of arms and stratagem, have no need of my assistance.”

“It pleases me to watch a true captain work,” the Storm King added. “It would please me even better to watch you suffer a fourth reverse at the hands of these children.”

Sombra growled. “Twice now, they have bested me, not three! Our first encounter saw them flee the field-”

“Yet they survived,” the Storm King replied. “You came to kill them, they fought only for their lives, they kept their lives for you did not kill them; ergo, you are a failure thrice, not twice.”

“The fourth time shall pay for all,” Sombra snarled.

“We shall see,” the Storm King said. “Mayhap the great Sombra, King of Kings, has grown addle-witted in confinement and lost all of his cunning and his skill. Or mayhap you were never great, save in great fortune to be blessed with mighty warriors and valiant officers who won for you an empire in spite of all your folly.”

“Or mayhap you are a coward who would rather jape and mock at my expense than risk your own prestige by hazarding your talents ‘gainst our foe.”

“I have fought,” the Storm King replied. “I conjured storms to waylay them in the mountains.”

“And they withstood your storms, and might and malice of Selene; you two have failed just as I have.”

“I have struck down a huntsman.”

Sombra sniggered. “One huntsman? One single huntsman in a world that overflows with them? What a thing to boast of before kings and queens!”

“The others fled in terror of my coming,” the Storm King replied.

“They had their lives, which you sought to take but did not get; ergo, you failed,” Sombra pointed out with relish.

“I failed alone,” the Storm King declared. “You failed with an army at your back, O mighty conqueror.”

“God of Darkness!” Sombra cried. “Claim you that you would have been victorious upon the hillfort? You would not have fought at all! Were I as indolent as you, as lacking in initiative as you, as willing to let our enemies go whither they will unhindered as you, then they would have had far easier a journey to this place!”

“And were you not so proud, you would have sought my help in ordering your forces,” the Storm King said.

“I need no schooling in war from the likes of you!” Sombra snarled.

“Will one of you please just start the attack?” Tyrian demanded.

Sombra had almost forgotten he was there, and he did not much care to be reminded. He turned a baleful crimson eye upon the little capering creature who sat by his hoof and thought himself possessed of a great quantity of self-control for not squashing him flat with it. “Silence, churl! Silence in the presence of your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in debate! We speak of pride and princely matters here!”

“And as a prince, I say you lead these grimm all wrong,” said the Storm King.

“How can one go wrong in leading grimm?” Selene asked. “Are they not the most simple and savage of creatures?”

“I have been called savage myself, upon a time or two,” the Storm King said, “and I have led those who were called savages to many victories ‘gainst those who called us savage. High walls and noble cities fell to my armies, and let me tell you both that to shark up resolutes from tribe and clan, field and forest, is nothing like leading the legions who followed ‘neath your chariot wheels. It is a different kind of war. These are my warriors, not yours; this is my battle, not yours.” He chuckled darkly. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Sombra glared down at him for a moment. Impertinent little barbarian. In their pomp, Sombra had ruled a realm twice the size of that which had once bowed before the Storm King, and a realm what was more repute with culture, beauty, art, and music, while all his rival had possessed was a bad smell.

But… perhaps he had a point; Sombra disdained these grimm which he was forced to use; he hated them, just as he hated the fact that he was forced to share a form with them. He hated them, and so, he used them poorly, flinging them forwards like a rabble in ways he would never have fought whilst at the head of his legions. They had no formation, no discipline.

“Very well,” he growled. “Show us how a lord of savages leads savages to victory. Show us the might of the Storm King.”

The bells rang in Ruby’s ears as she, Sunset, and Cinder ran down the steps from the new roof of the tower that Sunset had made – by demolishing the old one. They ran down the steps to the wooden platform from which the Sun Queen had sought to watch Ruby’s execution. From which she had watched Sunsprite die by Tyrian’s hands.

She was almost grateful for the battle which was upon them; it gave her an excuse not to tell her grandfather what had happened for a little while longer.

She would see Tyrian again, she vowed, and when she did… she’d make him pay for what he’d done to her cousin.

She was the last of the Roses now. If she died, if she threw away her life recklessly and in grief, then her line and silver eyes would end with her.

And yet, for Freeport, she might have to do it anyway.

She glanced up at Sunset, who did not look at her. Maybe Sunset had a plan, maybe Sunset was coming up with a plan even as they spoke.

Or maybe not. Maybe she would die, but with her surrogate sister by her side.

There were worse ways to go… but she would fight like hell to avoid it regardless.

From the wooden platform, the three of them could see that the battle was over. The forces of the Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire Clans had vanquished the Rangers of the Sun Queen – at least, those who had been in this chamber. Dead warriors from both sides lay on the floor of the gallery above the fighting pit, along with wounded lying amongst the fallen or being helped out by their comrades or being tended to. Bon Bon was one such; Lyra had gotten her armour off and was staunching a wound that she’d taken to the side.

She was kind of glad that Sunset was ignorant of the whole ‘Bon Bon pretended to switch sides again’ thing; it might have been a little awkward to try and explain.

Instead, Sunset’s eyes passed over Bon Bon and Lyra, searching for someone else as the room emptied.

“Ruby!” Garble called to her. He had been standing by the other door onto the platform, the door which Ruby and Cinder had come in through to get up here after Sunset in the first place, the door that led down into the rest of the tower. He jogged across the wooden boards, his spear wet with blood and dripping it upon the floor. “Glad to see that you’re okay. Uh, all of you, I guess.”

“We’re touched by your concern,” Cinder drawled.

“As you can see, we won,” Garble explained. “Um… where’s the Sun Queen?”

“Nowhere to trouble us,” Sunset declared. “Where are Lady Ember and Prince Rutherford?”

“The chieftains are gathering in the dining hall,” Garble explained. “Come on, I’ll take you to them.” He turned away, leaving them to follow in his heavy footsteps as he led them away from the fighting pit and down a dark stone staircase, then down through a corridor that turned sharply away, then down another small set of stairs into a large chamber dominated by a long, rectangular table sat in the centre of it, with carved wooden chairs lining the length of it. Ember was there, and Prince Rutherford too, and with them were a heavily-tattooed caribou faunus and a broad-shouldered, hairy man with a great grey beard. They were all stood around near the head of the table, arguing loudly and fiercely.

“Of all the times to have chosen to do this!” the caribou faunus shouted.

“I didn’t choose this,” Ember declared.

“You took up arms!” cried the bearded, hairy man.

“I did what was right and necessary,” Ember replied. “The Queen had shown herself unfit to rule us.”

“Prince Rutherford not follow queen who betray queen’s own subjects,” Prince Rutherford declared.

“All well and good, but now we have grimm without the city and civil war within.”

“The first appears to be undeniable, but the second need not be the case,” Sunset declared as she walked down the length of the table towards the gathering. “I cannot speak for how well the Queen was loved in this city, but I think that most people would rather fight for their lives against the grimm than fight for a dead queen in a city that will fall soon after.”

“'Dead'?” the caribou faunus repeated. “The Sun Queen is dead?”

“She is,” Sunset said evenly, looking into his eyes. “By my hand.”

The four chieftains were silent for a moment, before the caribou faunus looked away. “Ordinarily, I would be more inclined to thank you than curse you, but right now, I’m not so sure.”

“Ruby, it’s good to see you again,” Ember said. “These are Prince Ivarr of the Fall Forest Clan and Chief Ragnar of the Ice River Clan. These are Sunset Shimmer, Ruby Rose, and Cinder Fall, warriors from Vale to the west.”

“Prince Rutherford glad to see Sunset Shimmer again!” Prince Rutherford boomed, slapping Sunset on the back so hard she nearly staggered into the table. “Although Prince Rutherford seemed to forget Sunset for a while.”

“Don’t worry, my prince, it was common enough,” Sunset said dryly; there hadn’t yet been time for her to explain how exactly they’d all been made to forget about her, but now wasn’t really a good time. “We have more important things to think of now.”

“What are these outsiders doing here?” Prince Ivarr demanded. “Do you imagine that we need you to teach us how to fight?”

“I think that we need all the help we can get,” Ember said.

“And Prince Rutherford seen Sunset Shimmer destroy whole horde of grimm to save Frost Mountain Clan at King’s Camp,” Prince Rutherford declared. “Seeing Sunset Shimmer again and Prince Rutherford’s heart feel lighter already.”

Sunset chuckled as she scratched the back of her head. “Rest assured, my prince, that we will not let them pass us while we live.”

“I don’t believe it,” Prince Ivarr said. “One warrior against a horde of grimm? Ridiculous!”

“Ivarr call Prince Rutherford liar?” Prince Rutherford demanded.

“I would like to believe it,” Ragnar muttered. “Ember, do you believe this?”

“Like you, I want to,” Ember said. “Sunset, can you destroy them all?”

The rings, Ruby thought. Without the rings, she isn’t as strong as she was at King’s Camp. She understood why Sunset had gotten rid of them, she was glad that Sunset had gotten rid of them, but at the same time… no. No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. Those rings had been twisting Sunset, and the only reason she’d made them in the first place was that Ruby had made her feel so guilty that she felt like she had go above and beyond, put herself at risk, to prove to Ruby that she was worth keeping around.

She didn’t need to do that any more. They would fight together, with all the weapons at their disposal, and if that wasn’t enough, then…

And besides, she was able to destroy a load of grimm in front of the walls of Vale, and she didn’t even have the rings then. So maybe she doesn’t really need them after all.

“I’m not sure,” Sunset admitted. “It depends on how many there are and how they come-”

“Hah! Now we see!” Prince Ivarr crowed. “However she conned you, Rutherford, she sees now that she cannot repeat the trick, and so she-”

Sunset cut him off, not with words but by raising up her hand and hoisting the caribou faunus up into the air, surrounded by the green glow of her telekinesis. He kicked and writhed in the magical embrace, swinging his arms futilely up and down as though he was trying to swim through the air.

“Trick?” Sunset demanded, levitating him up higher as she leapt onto the wooden table, her tail quivering back and forth behind her as her ears flattened down on top of her head. “This is not a trick. What I did at King’s Camp was not a trick, I guarantee it. I have power, perhaps not power enough to withstand all the creatures of grimm single-handed, but I have power nonetheless, and I will use it to defend Freeport whether you believe me or no.” She set Prince Ivarr back down upon the floor, turning her back on him for a moment as she looked around the other chieftains. “But we have a much greater power than I possess, we here and all our followers beyond the tower. If we work together, and fight together, then we have in us such power as no horde of grimm can overcome!

“The grimm are fierce, it’s true; I do not say that the battle will be easy, for they will come in strength with tooth and claw to rend and kill. Freeport is not my home. I do not dwell here, and nor do those I love. But it is your home, it is where you live or it is where you have taken shelter, it is where your parents and your children are… and it is where they will die unless we stand firm this night. If that is not enough to stir your spirits and rouse the passions of all true folk of Freeport to deeds of valour, then I know not what to say, there is no hope for any of us. But if it does suffice, if you will resolve to join with me in battle for the city, then the dawn shall find us living yet, for the walls are strong, and the defences on the hilltops well-established; here we may hold off many times our strength in grimm; I have seen it done in Vale, faced with a horde innumerable, yet earthworks and walls such as we have withstood their fury.”

Ruby wondered if she ought to point out that that was not entirely how the Battle of Vale had gone, but decided that Sunset was probably… telling a good story. Yeah, that sounded way better than ‘lying’ in her head.

Sunset went on. “All things lie on the other side of this battle: life, for yourselves and all those dear to you lies on the other side of this battle. Will you reach for it? Will you stand with me?”

“Frost Mountain Clan shall fight to last warrior!” Prince Rutherford declared.

“And the Summer Fire Clan, too,” Ember said.

“And the Ice River Clan as well, if we have a choice,” Ragnar muttered.

Prince Ivarr was the last to answer. He stared at Sunset with a look in his eyes that Ruby did not like one bit; it reminded her too much of Sami. “The Fall Forest Clan will defend this city,” he agreed.

“Then muster all your warriors and get them to the walls,” Sunset commanded. “Ruby, Cinder, and I will go to the other defences and try to hold the grimm off from the hilltops, away from Freeport.”

“Who will command the Rangers?” Ember asked. “We can command our clans, but who will lead Freeport’s own forces?”

“I will.”

Everyone turned, to see Laurel standing in the doorway to the dining room.

Cinder scowled. “How is that you are free to walk about?”

“You have already won the battle; what can I do to you now?” Laurel asked. She took a few steps in, down the length of the table, just as Ruby and the others had walked down the table’s length a little earlier. “Your Mister Winchester was decent enough to accept my parole, in light the circumstances. I – and Cherry, too – may be able to be of use to you.” She stopped. “Cherry tells me that Dawn is dead.” She looked up at Sunset. “You killed her, didn’t you?”

Sunset’s expression betrayed no remorse. “I had cause.”

Laurel was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she admitted. “Yes, you did. Is Sun- is the Queen dead, too?”

“She is,” Sunset said softly.

Laurel’s face was blank, impassive. “I will not speak a word against her, nor hear such a word spoken,” she said, “for she was bold, and ambitious, generous to her friends if not as generous to her enemies as she could have been.” She paused. “And yet, it was a rotten thing that she did, or tried to do, and I am sorry that I did not speak up louder against it.” She looked at Ruby. “We should have fought for you, as you would have fought for us.”

“I will fight for you,” Ruby declared. “We all will.”

Laurel blinked owlishly. “Then you are a better person than we were,” she murmured. “My Queen is dead, and my friend too, but nevertheless… there was a dream that was Freeport, a dream that four fools shared and believed in enough that we said goodbye to all the things we loved in order to make that dream a reality. Though my Queen is dead, her dream lives on, and I will fight for it, and so will every soldier of Freeport under arms.”

“We’ll need them all,” Sunset growled. “With half your Freeport troops, reinforce the outer defences on the hills surrounding the town. The other half will garrison the walls, reinforced by the warriors of the clans. As I was saying, I’ll try and hold them on the heights, but it may not be possible.”

Laurel nodded. “I’ll lead our troops out, and Cherry will command the ones left behind in the city.”

“And wherever Robyn Hill is, let her out this instant,” Sunset ordered.

Laurel sighed. “Of course,” she said. “Anything else?”

“One more thing,” Ruby said. “Where did you put our weapons?”

Sombra had never greatly esteemed the Storm King; he had thought him little more than a jumped-up bandit chief, his swollen entourage nothing but a horde such as could be swept away in a day’s work by his armies. But, as he took his ease upon the ground and let his fellow king step forward and do all the work, he had to concede that the Storm King was not quite so amateurish as he had expected.

In fact, depending on how this night’s work went, Sombra might have to concede that the Storm King was making better use of the grimm than he had managed.

For one thing, the Storm King had conjured one of the storms for which he had been infamous; that was another thing that Sombra had disdained: the Storm King, he had been wont to say, owed all his victories to the weather. That might be true, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still winning victories one way or another, and he had gone back to the well of that command over wind and rain to conjure up a host of dark, forbidding clouds that blotted out the stars over the heads of the defenders on the hilltops. The rain pelted down upon them, blinding them and dampening their morale; the wind blew in their faces and would blow their arrows and their quarrels back upon them. And the storm would oppress them, weaken them, make them vulnerable when the attack began.

It was almost enough to make Sombra wish that he had studied that particular magical art.

Of course, all of this depended on the storm enduring. The evidence of Selene and the Storm King’s battle with Sunset Shimmer suggested this might not be so.

The evidence of his own battle against her suggested that, even if the storm succeeded, the grimm attack might not.

Sombra cast a baleful eye on Tyrian Callows, who was sat sullenly a little way off, while his new acolyte hovered nearby.

“I will lay a wager with you,” Selene murmured. “That girl there will betray him to his death soon or late.”

Sombra was silent for a moment. “Think you that it is certain?”

“You doubt it?” Selene asked.

Sombra considered for a moment, considering the girl in question. She was lean and hungry-looking; he would never have accepted her into his service. He wished to sleep at nights and preferred those around him to do the same. This girl looked as though she stayed up at nights plotting to increase her power. “She will try,” he allowed, “but she will not succeed; he will kill her.”

“So sure?”

“He is mightier than she.”

“My sister was mightier than I,” Selene reminded him. “And yet…”

“She is not you,” the Storm King declared, turning away from his work to join their discussion. “He has put the fear in her; she will not trespass against him.”

Selene chuckled. “It would not be a wager if we all agreed.”

“How can it be a wager when we have nothing to place at hazard?”

“Have we not pride still?” Selene asked. “Do we not chafe at being thought less than one another in any way? We play for bragging rights, in this small matter as in the great one of who shall be victorious over these mortals and take the heads of Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer.”

“A great matter?” Sombra snorted. “It is no great matter to step upon a pair of ants.”

“Then why do you two compete in it?” Selene inquired.

“Why do you not?” the Storm King replied.

“I have put in an effort to waylay them,” Selene insisted. “But, since Sunset Shimmer has proved a little too violent for my liking, I shall allow you two strong and mighty kings to claim these prizes; my turn will come across the ocean, when I break Jaune Arc and Pyrrha Nikos beneath my hooves. For now, you may make sport as you see fit.”

“Hmm,” Sombra mused. “Tyrian!” he snapped.

Tyrian rolled his eyes. “Yes?”

“Lord.”

“Hmm?”

“I am a king,” Sombra declared. “We here are kings and queens all, princes of power and antiquity, and you will call me king when you address me.”

Tyrian scowled. “I am not your vassal!” he declared. “I am bondsman to a greater power, and you forget your place to so forget my mistress!”

“I forget nothing!” Sombra growled, baring his fangs. “Not a moment of my many years will I forget, but I will not be addressed as an equal by the likes of you. Speak to me as a king!”

Tyrian stared at him, saying nothing.

Sombra rose, looming over Tyrian now as he took a heavy, thumping step forwards.

“Lord,” Tyrian said, through gritted teeth. “What would you have of me?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Sombra said. “Does she live?”

“I was told otherwise, but I fear she does,” Tyrian replied. “Is that a problem… lord?”

It had the potential to be a problem, certainly. Ozma reborn, Selene had named that girl after their clash in the mountains; Sombra had thought much less of her when they battled on the island called Patch, but after their subsequent encounter at the hillfort, he had understood what Selene meant, and not just because no mortal had bested him like that since Ozma lived, but also in the power that she possessed. He wondered why she had not shown such strength before; whatever the reason, if she showed such power again, then all the Storm King’s strategising might come to nought.

“It does not matter,” the Storm King declared. “Whether she is here or not, I will triumph over her this night. All things are in preparation.”

Indeed, the preparations were all but complete. Besides the storm itself, the Storm King had set his forces ready for the assault. It was not as Sombra would have set the lines – it was no four-fold army, to be sure – but it seemed to bear out the Storm King’s assertion that he understood better than Sombra how to use such creatures as they were condemned to work with.

Just as, in days long ago, the callow youths who were too young to fight in the main battle would skirmish in front of the line, so the Storm King had set a loose mass of immature beowolves in front of his formation, waiting at the very edge of the mass of dark, concealing fog that was Sombra’s contribution to this battle. Some of them were visible at that edge of the darkness, and it was their presence no doubt that had set the horns to sounding and the bells to ringing in the town. Sombra could sense the fear rising in the storm-drenched defences, and the city beyond was rank with it. The grimm could sense it too, and better than he could; they were beginning to growl and roar and beat their chests in anticipation, they strained against the Storm King’s control over them, they wished nothing more than to rush forward, to tear, to kill.

They really are like barbarians, are they not?

The Storm King had deployed them much like barbarians, grouping his ursai and his mature beowolves in warbands, with the toughest fighters – the ursai – in the front and then the beowolves sloping off towards the rear in order of weakness. However, he had surprised Sombra a little by not grouping all his forces in one single mass, but dispersing his warbands in a concave semicircle ringing the city and the hills that protected it. He could attack from all points, not just from one, an elementary lesson Sombra should have borne in mind if he had not been so contemptuous of the grimm he led. A large reserve, similarly arrayed, awaited behind the front line, not far away from them, while the Storm King had grouped his stag-like cerruns and his equine sleipnirs further back. Unless Sombra missed his guess, the Storm King would unleash that cavalry in pursuit once the defences broke.

Also waiting were the goliaths that the three of them had painstakingly brought over the mountains from Vale. One hundred of the giant grimm they had rustled up for the journey – the only grimm they had sought to bring from Vale, being confident in being able to shark up enough in this part of the world to meet their needs – but only seventy-three had survived the rigours of the crossing, the rest falling to their deaths from the high peaks or freezing in the high altitudes. They had, though, found more of the magnificent grimm on the other side, with the result that their goliath corps now mustered one hundred and thirteen. Of all the grimm, they were the only ones that Sombra could say that he liked, if only because they reminded him of his mighty war elephants. Selene thought the same – he remembered that she had ridden into battle, and everywhere else besides, upon the back of an enormous white bull elephant, and how she had been wont to look down on Salem from upon its back – and while the Storm King had never possessed an elephant herd, he had been envious of those who did. It was for that reason that they had agreed that they would not use the goliaths without consent from the other two: Sombra had not deployed them against the hillfort, and a good thing too, while the Storm King would not use them here, even though it might be their last chance to use them.

None of them really wanted to see the wondrous beasts die. So they waited, trumpeting defiance at the enemy, occasionally stamping at the ground, waiting for a command that might never come.

The Storm King, like Sombra at the hillfort before him, gave no sign that he would be leading his warbands into battle. Perhaps he would have, in the old days; being a savage, it was practically expected of him, but this was not the old days, and they had all outlived the flush of youth when they felt immortal. Now they were immortal, but had lived long enough to become precious of their lives. None of them desired to die before they sat a throne once more. Selene and Sombra had been burnt in their encounters with Salem’s enemies, and Sombra, for his part, did not intend to be burned by the eyes of heaven a second time.

If they had been leading human armies, either Sombra or the Storm King might have felt ashamed to be hanging back at the rear out of danger, but they led only grimm, who were – goliaths excepted – fit for nothing better than to be spent this way and who cared not where their leaders stood.

Sombra studied the assembled grimm, drawn up for battle. A thought occurred to him. “Do you think they could be armed?”

Selene looked up at him. “Armed?”

“With spear and shield,” Sombra explained.

Selene was silent a moment. “These beowolves and ursa spend as much time on four legs as upon two, where would they put these weapons?”

“Not them, then, but beringels or grendels-”

“They have not the wit to use them,” Selene declared dismissively.

“I am not so certain,” Sombra replied. “In any case, we have magic to do more than strike down our enemies.”

“Perhaps,” Selene allowed. “But why would you wish to?”

“Mayhaps I would rather lead an army than a horde.”

The Storm King laughed. “You do not know how to use the grimm, so you dream of remaking them more to your liking?” he asked. “How like you, King of Kings; better you should watch closely and learn how to make use of what is plentifully available. Watch, both of you, and see how the storm will sweep away all our opposition.”

Sami had never been surrounded by grimm quite like this before.

She wasn't sure that she liked it.

The Fall Forest Clan had been – was – a lot of things, most of them pretty bad, but just because they worshipped ancient gods and were willing to shed blood in the name of those same gods didn't mean that they didn't fear the grimm. Everyone feared the grimm, and Sami was no exception to that. Seeing so many of them, so close by, not trying to kill her, it… well, it was something.

Seeing them be ordered around like men, and seeing them obey those orders, that was something else altogether.

The world was a very complicated place, she was finding out; there were more things in heaven and earth than the withered storytellers of the Fall Forest Clan had dreamt of in their half-remembered legends. None of their tales had told of this, of grimm led like armies, of the queen who ruled over them or of those who commanded them.

These three… Sami wasn't sure how to refer to them inside her own head. 'Creatures' was the word that echoed in her mind, but Sami had the distinct impression that if any of them caught her referring to them that way, then she would not be long for this world, and yet, what else to call them, these things who looked like grimm but spoke like men, who made old-fashioned words out of mouldy books sound in the harsh tones meant for swiftly barked commands? Sami had caught sight of one of them on the night they had been attacked at King's Camp, but she had taken him then for a karkadann, not… this.

They looked like grimm, and yet, they did not consider themselves to be grimm, or at least, that was the impression Sami got from what they said.

They called themselves kings and queens, although kings and queens of what, Sami had no idea.

And they were proud and looked with disdain on Tyrian.

It sounded absurd, but that had been almost as much of a surprise to Sami as the existence of these kingly grimm had done; when she had first encountered Tyrian, when he had killed Jack so casually, bested her so easily, and announced herself as a servant of the goddess, then he had seemed to be almost all-powerful, one touched by the blessings of a dark divinity, imbued with a touch of her majesty. The Sun Queen of Freeport had felt it too, she knew; that was why she had bent the knee so easily. Tyrian possessed a glamour about him that reduced the wills of those who sought to stand against him.

And yet, whatever that power was, it had no effect upon the kings of grimm; they treated him like a servant, like someone fit to fetch and carry and to run errands. It… made her see him differently.

Perhaps he was not the one she ought to follow. Perhaps she ought to look instead to one of these three greater than grimm for her advancement. She did not wish to remain forever as the servant to a humble servant whose humility was being demonstrated to her with great emphasis.

She did not want to remain as she was.

When she had recovered her memories from wherever they had gone, she had… she had been afraid. She had been afraid of Sunset Shimmer and the things that Sunset might do to her once she found out what Sami had done. She didn't want to be afraid again. She didn't want to be afraid of Tyrian; she didn't want to be afraid of Sunset; she wanted to be the one who put the fear in others. That had always been the best part, not the killing, but before, when all these people who thought themselves so powerful and so safe realised that they were in a place where all the power belonged to Sami because Sami held the knife. She wanted to put that fear in Sunset, and Ruby and Cinder and all the rest. But she would need to be more than herself, more than what she was, to do so.

She would be satisfied, as a first step, to be able to do as Tyrian did and intimidate others by the sheer fact of declaring herself to be intimidating, but she wanted more than that. She wanted power. She wanted magic.

It was a question of who she ought to serve to get it.

And how to convince anyone other than Tyrian that she was worth taking on.

At present, after all, she had nothing they wanted.

And so, for now, she was forced to wait and watch as they prepared their grimm to assault the hills that guarded Freeport. Would they win? They seemed confident that they would, but Sami was less certain. Sunset was back, and Sunset… Sami had seen what she did to grimm.

If they failed again, as they had failed at King's Camp, then maybe, just maybe, Sami would have something to offer after all.

The gates of Freeport had been thrown open, and Rangers in their capes of brown and green, with bows and swords and Great War guns, rushed though the open gate towards the defences that had been dug on the surrounding hills. None of them spared a single glance for Ruby, Sunset, or Cinder; their eyes were all turned outwards, to where the town was threatened by the grimm and to where the storm blew wind and rain into their faces.

Ruby could hear the bad weather beyond the walls, where rain hammered into the stonework and the barricades that bridged the gaps between the ancient stonework. The howling of the wind did battle with the ringing of the bells, prefiguring the battle between men and grimm that was sure to follow.

"There is a fell voice in the air," Cinder observed. "These strange grimm have pursued us here."

"Don't say it too loud; somebody might hear you and take offence," Sunset replied. "But, yes, that does appear to be the case; if Tyrian has followed us all the way from Vale, then why should that thing not have followed us from King's Camp, and the other two besides?"

"You think that it's all of them?" Ruby asked. "It's not just the one from King's Camp and Patch?"

"The one at King's Camp and Patch didn't make the weather," Sunset replied. "Black smoke, yes, but not a storm like this; this is more like the weather that bedevilled us trying to cross the Pass of the Raven… and maybe on the river too, come to that."

Cinder frowned. "I wish I had pried more deeply into Salem's secrets, then I might know exactly what we're dealing with."

"Something strong," Sunset said. She looked down at her right hand. "Perhaps I shouldn't have-"

"No," Ruby said. "You should have. You did the right thing getting rid of them."

Sunset looked at her. "With the rings, I was strong enough to stand against these creatures."

"They also turned you into one of them," Ruby pointed out. She took Sunset's hand, squeezing it gently as she endeavoured to put an optimistic smile upon her face. "We'll make this work, Sunset, somehow."

Sunset stared down at her. A snort escaped her. "Do you really believe that?"

"I wouldn't admit it if I didn't," Ruby said.

Sunset chuckled. "I… I'm glad we're doing this together." She glanced at Cinder. "The three of us."

"I wish you hadn't said that," Cinder murmured. "I was going to ask if I could slip away."

Sunset covered her mouth with her free hand as she laughed. "If… if you want to go, then-"

"I don't," Cinder said quickly. "I wouldn't miss this for all the power that I once dreamed of. I, too, am glad that we face this together." She smirked. "It turns out that a world without Sunset Shimmer scarcely bears thinking about."

Sunset did not reply to that. Instead, she folded her arms and seemed to retreat inside herself, deep in thought as her tail twitched slowly back and forth behind her.

Her head bowed. She clutched her own arms tighter, crinkling the leather of her jacket.

"Sunset?" Ruby asked. "Is everything okay?"

"I…yeah, of course," Sunset said. "I was just… never mind."

Ruby nodded absently, her gaze returning to the Rangers rushing out beyond the gate. The stream of men had slowed to a trickle now; most of those who meant to go beyond the wall had done so already; those that remained were preparing to defend the walls in case the first line of defences fell.

"It was a mistake to come here, wasn't it?" she asked quietly, as guilt gripped her stomach and pinched it tight. "We led them here. Whatever happens next is on us."

Sunset's jaw clenched. "That's why we have to fight," she said, "because it's the least we can do." She looked at Ruby. "You aren't to blame for the Sun Queen's choices, Ruby. They were her choices, and she has to own them, however they turn out. Yes, some of the choices that we've made have turned out to… a little less than perfect, but we did the best we could, we had good reasons, and we didn't force anyone else to do anything. The power of choice is given to all, and all are burdened with the responsibility, and any place that can only survive with blood sacrifice does not deserve to survive."

"I… I suppose. Anyway, we should get going," Ruby said. In truth, her feet were impatient to move; watching the Rangers run out of the gate to reinforce the defences, watching the clan forces take up positions along the walls, it made her feel at fault for her idleness, for just standing here and waiting.

"Not yet," Sunset said.

Ruby was about to ask what they were waiting for when the question was answered by the arrival of Laurel, accompanied by Cardin and a tall, reluctant looking pony faunus – like Sunset, she had both ears and tail – with dusky skin and hair of blonde so pale that it was almost white. She kept glancing at Laurel, as if she feared her, and Ruby guessed that this was the pony who had fallen through the hole between worlds and alerted the Sun Queen to the existence of Equestria.

The pony guest quickened her pace as she saw Sunset, leaving Laurel and Cardin behind as she approached the other trio. She ignored Cinder and Ruby, keeping her eyes fixed on Sunset as she approached. "Is this some kind of a trick," she asked, "or did you get your body back?"

"It's me again, Sunset Shimmer," Sunset replied. "Although I fancy I am so unlike the Sunset you knew that we might as well be strangers."

"I'm glad to hear it; the old you was unbearable," the other pony replied. "I would say that I'd like to get to know the new you, but in the circumstances… I'd pass in return for things being a little less terrible."

"Believe me, I'm not crying out for a chance to show you that I've changed," Sunset said. "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that our two worlds became entangled, I'm sorry that the monsters of my world found a way into Equestria, and I'm sorry that you ended up here. None of that should have happened, and as you've already seen, this is not a world to end up in by chance."

"No," the other pony agreed. "Although I have to say, so far, I've found the most dangerous monsters in this world walk on two legs."

"Some do," Sunset conceded. "But so do some of this world's brightest heroes. The worst here may be worse than the worst in Equestria, but the best? That's just as good."

The other pony's violet eyes flickered from Cinder to Ruby. "I'll take your word for that."

Sunset nodded. "I… I don't know if we will survive this battle," she said, "but if I do, I give you my word that I will get you home to Equestria."

"Thank you," the other pony said. "I appreciate that, and for more than just showing that you really have changed."

Sunset snorted. "In the meantime, however, I must ask you for a favour."

The pony looked around. "That's a lot to ask, in the circumstances."

"I need you to use your pegasus powers to try and push back against this storm," Sunset said.

"Pegasus powers? You might not have noticed, but I'm missing a pair of wings."

"And I'm short a horn, but the power is within us nonetheless," Sunset told her. "Just concentrate, look inside yourself; you will find your abilities within you."

"And you want me to use them to help the people who held me prisoner, ransacked my mind, and were prepared to invade Equestria?"

"The person who invaded your mind is dead," Sunset said bluntly, making the pony's eyes widen as she drew back a little. "So is the one who held you prisoner and sought to invade our home for their own gain."

"Dead?" the pony repeated. "By your… hand?"

"Yes," Sunset confirmed, her voice becoming softer and quieter, as though she were ashamed – or ashamed to admit it, at least.

"You really have changed, haven't you?" the pony said.

"I am… my path is not always pretty, but it is the path that I have chosen, and I will not turn away for anything," Sunset declared. "I know that you have no cause to love this place, and no reason to help us – except, perhaps, the fact that if I'm dead I can't help you – but most of the people living here had nothing to do with what was done to you. They're blameless, and they're in danger."

"And you care about such things now?"

Ruby found herself getting a little annoyed at the sceptical tone of the other pony's words, before reminding herself that she had absolutely no room to talk.

Sunset glanced at Ruby. "I do," she said.

The other pony stared at her awhile. "Well," she said eventually, "I suppose Robyn Hill can't be shown to be more lacking in compassion than Sunset Shimmer. I'll do what I can. I can't promise anything – that storm is ferocious, and I don't have the body I'm used to – but I'll do what I can."

"That's all I ask," Sunset replied.

As the pony – Robyn Hill, she had called herself – stepped away, Cardin approached. "Are you sure you don't want me to come out there with you?"

"No," Sunset said immediately. "If it can be done, then we will manage, and if not… best not to put all our eggs in one basket."

Cardin looked from Sunset to Ruby and then back again, and looked for a moment as though he might say something about that, but in the end, he must have thought better of it, for he simply nodded and said, "Okay then. Good luck to all three of you."

"Indeed," Laurel added, from a little way off. "And thank you, again, for fighting for a place that… that would not fight for you."

"Now you will see the difference in our spirit," Sunset declared. She placed a hand on Ruby's shoulder. "In Ruby's spirit, at any rate."

Before anyone else could say anything else, a new sound had joined the howling of the wind towards the walls: the crack and bang of gunfire coming from the hills beyond.

The grimm had begun their attack.

Laurel cursed under her breath. “Close the gate as soon as I’m through,” she commanded. “Are you coming?”

“We’ll take a shortcut,” Sunset said, taking Cinder and Ruby by the arm. “Are you two ready?”

Cinder asked, “Ready for wh-?”

Sunset teleported, taking Ruby and Cinder with them. Ruby saw the green light consume her eyes, and for an instant, she lost all sensation in her body: arms, legs, she couldn’t feel them, her toes and fingers might as well have dropped off for all that she was aware of them. There was nothing but her thoughts and the sensation of Sunset’s presence somewhere that she could not quite identify.

Then, with a pop and another burst of all-consuming green light, they were back on solid ground. Solid-ish ground, anyway; the rain had turned the earth to mud beneath their feet, and more rain descended from the dark clouds above, plastering Ruby’s hair to her face as water soaked her cape and trickled down her nose. The wind chilled her to the bone as it blasted her from the front.

The deluge made it difficult to see; the light of the moon and stars were blotted out by the clouds, and the pelting rain only made it more difficult; she could barely make out the fog that hovered at the edge of the battlefield because it was so dark already that it was hardly noticeable.

What was noticeable were the muzzle flashes of the rifles and the antiquated machineguns as they fired into the darkness. What was noticeable were the white bone masks of the beowolves as they emerged, snarling out of the dark and into the light of the lanterns which had been lit all along the line of earthworks that the defenders had dug upon the hills.

A beowolf mounted the breastwork, snarling down upon the Rangers below. Sunset blew its head off with a single shot from Sol Invictus.

“Is Crescent Rose going to be okay in this weather?” Sunset asked.

Ruby unfolded her weapon. She felt satisfyingly heavy in Ruby’s hands; she felt solid, like something Ruby could hold onto. “I think so,” she said. The risk was mud, not rain; she would just have to hope for now and strip-clean it come morning.

“Fortunately,” Cinder observed, as a pair of glass scimitars formed in her hands, “I don’t have that problem.”

Sunset smirked. “Lucky you,” she said as she put one hand upon her shoulder and ignited the dust infused within the fabric. Her arms and back began to burn brilliantly, the flames of crimson and gold leaping up in spite of the torrential rain as the power of dust proved stronger than the fury of the heavens. “Let’s go. Sapphire!” she cried out as she ran, the old name rising from her throat like a phoenix from the ashes. “Sapphire!”

“Sapphire!” Ruby took up the call as she charged, easily overtaking Sunset in a burst of rose petals, petals red as blood that trailed after her in the mud, withering in the rain that hammered down upon them. She leapt down into the trench and sliced two beowolves in half with a single stroke as they started to surmount the earthwork. She climbed up onto the parapet with the Rangers and opened fire on the shapes in the darkness that she took to be approaching grimm.

“Sapphire!” The cry sprang from the lips of Cinder Fall too, and though she had never been a part of their team, she had earned the right to cry it out after all that she had done and been through upon their behalf. She jumped over the trench and balanced nimbly upon the breastwork itself, the slippery conditions seeming not to trouble her at all as she danced upon the crest, her obsidian blades practically invisible, save for the inescapable, fatal wounds they dealt to any beowolf who ventured too close.

Then there was Sunset, burning Sunset, magical Sunset, reborn Sunset; Ruby hadn’t seen her fight like this since… since the Breach? Was that the last time? Or was it before that? When had she last seen Sunset fight without seeming to be weighed down by burdens that no one else could see? Either way, it was like she’d come back from everything that had happened to her… not the old Sunset exactly, but better than the newer Sunset. Even if she didn’t have the magic rings to make her stronger now, when Ruby could take a moment to watch her, she found that Sunset was plenty strong enough.

Sunset kept moving, dashing up and down the trench, shooting Sol Invictus and then tossing the rifle up into the air to let ten magical blasts issue from her fingertips, then catching the rifle again to bayonet a beowolf trying to surmount the earthwork. Then she kept on running, into a cluster of beowolves who had already descended the other side of the defence, burying her bayonet in a beowolf and then earth, so that the rifle was stuck point first in the ground like a standard with no flag as Sunset drew her sword and waded into them.

Sunset was more mobile than Ruby had ever seen her in a fight before, always moving, never standing still, not even to cast spells. But then, in this battle, they were all mobile, taking their lead from their leader and her restless, seemingly relentless energy; no sooner had they dealt with the grimm nearest them than Sunset would call for them to come on, to follow her; and they did follow, down the works to the next crisis point where they would clear out the grimm and safeguard the position before moving on to the next place.

The grimm were smarter than Ruby would have liked. They didn’t all charge at once, but teased the defenders of Freeport, lunging forwards in little packets – groups that would have been shot down with guns and arrows if it hadn’t been too dark to see and if the wind hadn’t been absolutely terrible for archery – some of which made it over the earthwork and some of which didn’t. Nowhere did it feel like the main effort, and yet, there were places where the defenders of Freeport were hard-pressed even by these nibbling attacks, as groups of beowolves surprised the near-sighted defenders, pushed through the killing fire, leapt over the barricade and got in amongst the Rangers. But wherever that happened, wherever it looked as though the line would falter, Sunset, Ruby and Cinder were there, their approach signalled by the sight of Sunset’s blazing jacket approaching through the dark. And the defenders of Freeport took heart from the flames and began to cheer as they saw it coming, their beacon of hope, their flame of courage, and across the line, the cry began to ring out, ‘Sunset! Sunset!’

The cries and cheers only grew louder as the beowolf attacks stopped, the grimm melting back into the darkness, while the Rangers of Freeport jeered them, called them cowards, crowed their victory, and lauded the name of Sunset Shimmer.

It was weird; she had killed their Queen, destroyed their tower, and come within a hair's breadth of destroying their city itself. But they didn’t know any of that, and some of it, they might not have cared about; if anyone was asking where the Sun Queen of Freeport was in Freeport’s hour of need, Ruby didn’t hear them. Right now, with the grimm before them, all that mattered was that Sunset Shimmer with her flaming jacket was fighting for them, and for that, she was a hero in their eyes.

And honestly? She deserved it. After all she’d been through, after all that Ruby had helped to put her through, Sunset deserved to have her name cheered to the heavens.

Ruby couldn’t help but remember that night on the train heading back from Cold Harbour, when they had all seemed so much younger and so much more naïve, when at Rainbow’s urging, they had all confessed their hopes and dear ambitions.

“The great glory that will accrue to us as a result our deeds in the field and in the tournament arena, and the immortality that we will win there.”

It was funny that it was here of all places, here at the end of Sanus, here where she had almost been lost, here when she had sunk so low… here, Sunset’s dreams were finally coming true.

And yet, she hardly seemed to realise it. She didn’t pay attention to the adulation that rang down upon her. Rather, she stood upon the firing step, peering out over the breastwork, trying to penetrate the darkness with her eyes.

Her victory did not elate her.

Probably because it felt no more like a victory to her than it did to Ruby. So far, they had only faced young beowolves, but young beowolves never travelled without an alpha to lead them, and she thought – she hoped – that a smattering of young beowolves would not have scared the Sun Queen enough to sacrifice her life and that of Sunsprite Rose to avoid resisting them. So far, what they had faced in terms of grimm was nothing compared to the strength of the attack on King’s Camp. More grimm would come, and by the looks in their eyes, Sunset and Cinder knew it too. Most likely, the Rangers knew it just as well, or at least, she hoped they did, but they wanted to celebrate even a respite, and Ruby could not find fault with that.

“Not here,” Sunset said, leaping down from the fire step and beginning to run along the length of the earthwork, behind the other defenders at their post, heading right towards the centre of the line.

“Where are we going?” Ruby cried as she effortlessly kept pace with Sunset.

“To the centre,” Sunset declared. “They were teasing our defences, looking for weak points.”

And then Ruby knew exactly what she meant.

The hills that warded Freeport against attack from the west were the only part of its terrain over which an army could attack, protected as the town was by the sea to the east, a mountain to the north and a lagoon to the south. But if an enemy did gain the hills, then they would be overlooking the town below, and a human enemy would be able to rain fire down upon the town, and even the grimm would be able to charge downhill. And so, the Sun Queen had fortified the hills, to be the first line of Freeport’s defences, but those defences had a gaping hole in them where the road ran over the hill towards the town, and on either side of the road, the earthworks simply stopped. Yes, there were two machineguns covering the road in a crossfire, but it was still the weakest point in the defence, and even the young beowolves had done serious damage there; the bodies of the Rangers they had slain still lay where they had fallen as they approached. Laurel was there now, commanding the defence, with some of her picked fighters ranged around her, but nevertheless, Ruby agreed with Sunset: this was where the grimm would strike next.

Laurel glanced their way. “There is no sign of them,” she said.

“There’s no sign of anything at this point,” Cinder muttered and spoke true: the storm had hardly slackened at this point; whatever Robyn was doing, it was not enough.

Sunset stared into the darkness, the rain dripping down her face and soaking her hair even as it failed to extinguish the dust-fuelled flames that leapt from her jacket; she was frowning, and the water droplets trickled off her brow. She had Sol Invictus and Soteria both slung across her back, leaving her hands free to spread out slightly across her body.

Ruby began to feel a change in the wind, first an easing of it as it ceased to blow quite so strongly in her face, and then a turning of the wind as it began to blow not into her but past her, pushing at her rain-soaked cloak, chilling her still in her sodden garb but from the other direction.

The west wind howled and seemed to cry out in anger at being resisted, and once more, the gale blew from that direction, pushing Ruby so hard that she felt as though she were going to be blown straight off her feet and onto her back in the mud. She buried the scythe blade of Crescent Rose into the earth and gripped the chilly metal of her weapon tightly like an anchor to hold her in place. The rain flew into her face, and the darkness cast by the clouds above seemed as impenetrable as ever.

Sunset gritted her teeth, showing them as her lips parted as she took a step forward. The biting onslaught of the wind lessened, reversing course once more, the clouds above beginning to clear away and let in patches of silver moonlight… only for the storm to surge forth against them one more time, to blast them with wind and pouring rain alike.

Sunset cried out in frustration, and then to gasp once she had so cried out because she was short of breath; this time, the wind did not change course; it did not go from blowing in their faces to blowing at their backs. But as Sunset stood, back bent like a tree young enough to bend before it broke, the wind did lessen, become less fierce and forceful, less likely to blow your arrow back into your face. It lessened, and the rain lessened too, and it became a little easier to see what was before them.

“This,” Sunset murmured. “This is the best I can do. Without… he’s too strong for me.”

The wind had lessened enough that Ruby could take one hand away from Crescent Rose and, with it, gently take Sunset’s gloved hand. “It’s okay,” she assured her. “It’s enough.”

“No, Ruby, it isn’t,” Sunset replied. “But thank you anyway.”

“Here they come!” Cinder cried, flourishing her swords as she assumed a fighting stance, one blade held in a low guard and the other poised to strike.

Out of the dark, out of the rain, out of the shadow came the grimm. Like a normal horde, after the younger grimm had teased and tested the defences, now the more mature grimm attacked. Unlike a normal horde, it wasn’t just the mature grimm in a mass: it was ursai, crude ranks of ursai, and maybe there were beowolves behind them, but it was impossible to tell from here because all Ruby could see in front of her were the ursai, walking upright upon their hind legs, shoulder to shoulder, presenting black bodies or bony armour plates to the defenders as they lumbered forwards, forelegs pumping by their sides. They looked a little silly, marching like that when they were meant to move on all fours – and that was what made Ruby think that there must be beowolves behind them, because Sanusian beowolves did walk on their hind legs, and the only reason it made sense for the ursai to do likewise was to hide and protect the weaker grimm behind – but there would be nothing silly about it if they reached the line.

When they reached the line. The defenders of Freeport opened up on them, the machineguns that covered the gap in the earthwork rattling off rounds, the rifles snapping, the bows and crossbows that had been kept miraculously dry letting arrows and quarrels fly where they could, but the ursai were like sponges, and they soaked up the fire and the missiles even where such did not simply bounce off their armour plates and spurs of bone.

Ruby fired Crescent Rose; Sunset yanked Sol Invictus off her shoulder and joined the chorus of shots. Crescent Rose was able to bring them down, but even Ruby’s precious high calibre sniper rifle needed more than one shot; it would probably have needed something as large as Ciel’s Distant Thunder to one-shot them, and that weapon had too slow a rate of fire to be of much use against these numbers.

Even when Ruby killed an ursa, there was another one behind, and the shadow of beowolves behind that.

Cries of alarm rose from the left and right of them as more mobs of grimm lurched into view, identically arrayed with the ursai in front; they were coming in on the flanks of the group headed straight for them, forcing those who had been firing into the flanks of that first group to turn and redirect their energies to the grimm coming right at them.

These grimm were more cleverly led than any that Ruby had fought before; even at the Battle of Vale, they hadn’t displayed tactics like this.

What were they up against?

The first group of grimm plodded closer and closer, the earth shaking with the heavy tread of so many creatures, growls and snarls emerging from their bone-crusted mouths as they churned the earth to mud and mire beneath their paws.

“Hold the line!” Laurel called. “Stand fast, for hearth and home and all that lies behind us!”

The grimm kept on advancing, failing to die in anything like sufficient numbers to stop them.

Sunset dashed forwards, leaving Ruby and Cinder behind, rushing past Laurel, running to the very centre of the gap in the breastworks, her jacket still blazing out behind her, a light amidst the storm and darkness. She dropped to one knee, her palm slamming into the mud beneath her. Green light erupted from her hand, not a blast of magic as she was wont to use, but a wave of energy, like a shockwave, but followed by lines of glowing emerald light tracing a rapid, zig-zag pathway through the earth as the magic swept out towards the grimm.

Swept out and destroyed them all, turning them to ashes in a mere moment, their smoky remains dissipating into the storm and the fog that lay at the edge of the battlefield.

“Yes!” Ruby cried, pumping one fist in the air. “Go, Sunset!”

Sunset did not respond. She did not look at what she had done. Her head was bowed, and she stood so still that, for a moment, Ruby thought that she had fallen asleep kneeling down. After a few moments, however, she rose to her feet, slowly and ponderously like a mountain rising from the earth, or a tree growing. But she looked far less steady than a mountain or tree. Her whole body swayed back and forth, as though she might topple over.

Laurel wiped water out of her already watery blue eyes. “You… your power, it… no wonder… gods.”

Above the lessened howling of the wind, more shots rang out to the right of them, further along the earthworks.

Sunset’s whole body snapped around in that direction. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t even look at Ruby or Cinder; she simply started to run in that direction.

Ruby didn’t bother keeping pace with Sunset this time; she left that to Cinder. Rather she raced ahead, her whole body turning into rosepetals as she flew, passing through the rain which didn’t affect her, untroubled by the wind, moving near as swift as thought, sensing rather than seeing, knowing by instinct where she needed to be.

Ruby stopped, rematerialising behind the breastwork but before another group of grimm, formed like the three that Sunset had taken care of already, lumbering forwards into the teeth of the Rangers’ fire.

Ruby added the firepower of Crescent Rose to their older weapons, bringing down one ursa, and then another, wishing that she had some dust rounds as she reloaded, but she hadn’t picked up any at Beacon, and there had been no chance to come by them since.

Cheers rose from the defenders as the familiar fire drew near, Sunset running down the line, Cinder effortlessly matching her speed. Sunset seemed to be moving a little slower than she had been before, but nevertheless, it did not stop her from leaping agilely up the top of the earthwork and once more unleashing her most powerful spell to strike down all the grimm within view. The acclaim that rained down upon her was redoubled here, but Sunset seemed, if anything, even more unaffected by it than she had been before.

She looked too tired to take much notice.

More shooting broke out from the right. Again, Sunset started to run in that direction, but slipped and lost her footing in the mud, going down flat on her belly, her face in the dirt.

“Sunset!” Ruby cried, rushing to her and kneeling down beside her. “Are you okay?”

Sunset grunted as she started to push herself up. “I’m fine. Only my dignity was wounded, not my aura.”

“Are you sure you should be using that spell so often?” Cinder asked, from the other side of her.

“I don’t have much choice, do I?” Sunset demanded.

“You’re not the only one here,” Cinder reminded her sharply. “You don’t have to put out every fire yourself.”

“I have to do… all I can,” Sunset declared. “Trust me, I’m not at my limit yet.”

“I do trust you,” Ruby declared. “I didn’t before, but… but now I do.” She smiled. “So trust me, to do all I can, for you.” And with that, she spread her cloak over Sunset’s prone form and carried her partner with her as she flew.

Sunset, too, was transformed into petals; petals of burning gold mingling with Ruby’s crimson cloud as they moved as one, joined and mingled and inseparable. Ruby could sense Sunset’s weakness as they flew, covering the ground more swiftly than Sunset’s feet could have managed; she could sense how much of herself she had already given. But she could also sense Sunset’s determination not to give up, not to stop until the battle was done.

And she did not stop; Ruby rushed her from here to there, from one end of the line to the other, wiping out whole swathes of grimm until Sunset looked about ready to collapse right there on the spot. But she kept going, though she was leaning on the earthwork to prop herself up, though the colour seemed to be ebbing out of her hair, though there was black beneath her eyes, though her flames had flickered and died away, though she could no longer hold back the storm and it howled in all its rage once more, she kept going until all the grimm were destroyed and there were no more to be seen. No more shots ran out, no more warnings cried, only the cheers for Sunset Shimmer, the hero of the night, and the miracles that she had worked.

And then, louder than the wind, louder than the cheering, loud enough to drown all other sounds, a single, monstrous howl arose, torn from a myriad of throats united in a single goal.

Their death.

Sombra snorted in disdain. “So, you understand the tactics of savages and beasts? That may be so, but it seems that in the face of Sunset Shimmer, your wisdom is of no greater use than mine.”

“Did I not tell you that I had taken her measure when we fought amidst the clouds?” Selene demanded. “Did I not tell you both that she was Ozma reborn? Oh, how you mocked me then and called me coward. Well, look at you now, undone by her without even the valour to confront her in your own selves. Truly, I am in the presence of most puissant warrior kings.”

“I never denied her power,” the Storm King declared. “But even Ozma had his limits; even he could not fight on, alone, all day against so many foes without the toll of his exertions telling on him. For look you both, how I not only understand the ways of savages but of those who call themselves ‘heroes’ also; see how I committed my first battle piecemeal, and in so doing summoned Sunset Shimmer to this point and then that, first to here and then to there and back again. All of my grimm, she has destroyed, because a hero could do no less… and now I deem she is exhausted. See how the storm howls once again; she has no more strength left to resist it.” A note of gleeful anticipation entered his voice. “While I still have a host of grimm left to send forward.” He gestured with his staff towards his second line, even as it began to march slowly but inexorably forwards, out of the fog and up the hill. “Sunset Shimmer will be as helpless as a babe before the power I yet command.”

The grimm came on again; more of them this time, in greater numbers than any band that had assailed them on this night, a concentrated hammer of destruction that would smash through the defences all the way to the walls, and possibly break them open too.

The cheers had faded, all voices died, replaced by the horrified silence that prevailed over the Freeport line now. No one seemed even to have the strength to shoot at the grimm as they advanced.

We thought we won. We thought it was over.

But it wasn’t over. It was so far from over that it wasn’t even funny. There were so many grimm coming straight for them right now that Ruby didn’t know if Sunset would have been able to just poof them all away even if she’d had the energy. And it was clear from the stricken, hopeless look on Sunset’s face that she no longer had the strength. She had used it all to get them this far, but nobody else had the strength to carry them the rest of the way.

“Cinder,” Sunset whispered, her voice a hoarse and barely audible croak, “you should go. Get back to Freeport, join Cardin; if you can hold the wall, then after-”

“I’m not leaving you,” Cinder said.

“Someone has to reach-”

“I’m not leaving you,” Cinder insisted, in a tone that brooked no further argument.

Sunset let out a ragged sigh. “Then you’ll die.”

Cinder’s smile was touched by melancholy. “I’ve died so many times already,” she reminded them. “What’s one more death? And probably the best death that I’ve ever had.”

Ruby waited, wondering if perhaps Sunset would turn to her next, urge her to go… but she did not. The vow that they had made atop the ruined tower still held; if this fight led to their ends, then they would meet them together.

If only there was something she could do so that it didn’t end that way. If only her eyes worked when she wanted them to, if only she understood-

When we feel especially intense positive emotion – love, friendship, the desire to protect life – our eyes manifest in power unlike any other.

Her mother’s words, contained in her diary, passed down to her, for the benefit of future generations of silver-eyed warriors. Ruby hadn’t been able to make use of it before, she hadn’t been able to understand what it meant… or maybe she just hadn’t really felt it. Maybe Sunset was right, maybe her desire to die gloriously like her mother meant that she’d never felt the desire to protect strongly enough.

But she did want to protect life; she wanted to protect Sunset, she wanted to protect Yona and Smolder and everyone sheltering behind the walls of Freeport. And she was here with her best friend, with her sister, with someone she loved so much, so why wasn’t that enough? Why couldn’t it be enough?

Maybe… maybe…?

She had an idea. Maybe it was stupid; it was certainly a longshot, but it was worth trying, right? It wasn’t like they had any better ideas.

“Sunset?” Ruby asked. “Will you sing for me?”

Sunset looked down at her, her expression incredulous. “What?”

“Sing to me,” Ruby repeated.

“Do you really think this is the time?” Sunset demanded.

“I think this is the perfect time,” Ruby insisted. “Please.” She grabbed Sunset’s hand, squeezing it firmly but at the same time gently too. “Trust me.”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her hand in Ruby’s grasp. For a moment longer, she was silent, but then, slowly and softly at first, but her voice growing stronger, she began to sing.

If I could begin to be,

Half of what you think of me,

I could do about anything,

I could even learn how to love.

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I’m coming back,

I could do about anything,

I could even learn how to love, like you.

Ruby closed her eyes as she stood on the firing step and let the melodic sound of Sunset’s voice bear away all other considerations. There were no grimm, there was no danger, they were not in imminent peril of their lives, facing creatures greater than ordinary grimm they did not understand. They had not barely escaped the Sun Queen’s plans with their lives, there was no Tyrian or Sami; there was only Sunset and her voice so full of kindness.

I always thought I might be bad,

Now I’m sure that it’s true,

'Cause I think you’re so good,

And I’m nothing like you.

Look at you go,

I just adore you,

I wish that I knew,

What makes you think I’m so special.

Unbidden, Ruby’s thoughts turned to the first time that Sunset had sung for her, and then to all the other wonderful moments that she had shared with Sunset, the way that she had always looked out for her from the moment they met, always been there for her. Memories of Sunset rolled into memories of Team SAPR, of Jaune and Pyrrha, of Blake and Penny and of their friends of RSPT too. Things had been rough, sometimes, sure – there were times when they had been desperate and dangerous – but there had been good times too, so many good times: picnics on the lawn, Vytal Festival parties, the dance.

They’d been so happy then, so happy and so full of love.

Ruby wanted that love and joy to come again, not only for them but for everyone. She wanted the darkness that had shrouded the world since the Battle of Vale to be driven back and disappear; she wanted to live.

If I could begin to do,

Something that does right by you,

I would do about anything,

I would even learn how to love.

Love like you,

Love me like you.

She wanted to live with the people she loved the most.

She wanted life, for everyone.

Ruby opened her eyes, and the world was consumed by silver light.

Sunset's Dream

Sunset’s Dream

Sami shielded her eyes, flinching away from the blinding silver light that consumed the world.

She turned away, she screwed her eyes tight shut, she covered them up with both her arms. None of it helped. None of it kept that light from shining through her arms and eyelids both, shining straight into her eyes, or so it seemed. It was so bright. It was too bright, far too bright. Sami moaned as she felt the light burning into her eyeballs. She heard the great grimm, so mighty and so strong, crying out also, hissing and snarling and moaning in pain. She did not hear Tyrian, but she did hear the great host of the grimm let out a great howl loud enough to strike the moon and shake the stars where they hung in heaven… but then their cry was stilled, struck to silence in a moment, and there was only Sami's own mewling and the pained groaning of the three great grimm.

It did not hurt; at least, it didn't feel like pain in that way. Sami was no stranger to pain, and this was nothing like her father's discipline, nor the beating of the cops as they dragged her to jail; this was… this was something else. This was like the pain she had felt as she watched, helpless, while her sister was laid screaming on the altar before her father cut her throat. Sami's eyes were closed, but the light shone through them nevertheless, and in the light stood all of Sami's sins remembered. The ghosts of her murders rose up out of the depths of her soul to surround her mind, silent but inescapable. Their pale and ghostly hands reached out to grasp at her.

The light was snuffed out. The ghosts disappeared. Sami's sight was plunged into darkness.

Of course she was; she had her eyes closed and covered up, and it was night.

Sami lowered her arms. The night was dark once more, illuminated only by the light of the moon above them. She looked around. Tyrian yet stood, silent, a scowl upon his face. The grimm, illuminated by the light of the shattered moon, had ceased their advance that had seemed so relentless, so unstoppable. They had halted in their great mass and now stood still and silent as if…

Sami blinked. Her eyes widened. They had been turned to ashes.

All of them. The great army which had been poised to bring down Freeport in an orgy of blood and slaughter were now… nothing.

"Did… did Sunset do this?" Sami muttered.

"Would that she were the only foe we had to contend with," growled one of the three great, kingly grimm, the one who looked like a karkadann.

Sami looked at them now. They had not been turned to stone, by the looks of things, or at least not completely; their bodies were flecked with scraps of stone that were falling like leaves down onto the ground in front of them, but there were not enough stone shards to have once covered their entire bodies, not even of the smallest of them, the beringel-like one who had ambushed them on the river. Perhaps it was because they had been much further away… no, not it was not so, because when Sami looked behind her, to where the goliaths had been placed in reserve, their entire fronts had been consumed by the silver light and turned to stone, and the fact that that stone, too, was now falling away to leave the elephant-like grimm trumpeting out their aches and pains didn't change the fact that they had been completely changed where the light struck them. Whereas these grimm, these more than grimm, they had only taken some hurt from it.

Sami was inclined to attribute that to their power, not to the distance.

The one who spoke with a female voice, who possessed both the wings of a pegasus and the horn of a karkadann, groaned and clutched her bony head with one hoof. "Knew you not, girl, that one of your company possessed the Eyes of Heaven?"

"'The… eyes of heaven'?"

"Silver eyes," Tyrian clarified impatiently. "Don't you remember how I noticed that her cousin had them too? Why did you think that I decided to kill her?"

"I…" Sami hesitated. "Ruby's eyes are magic?"

"Not just magic," declared the grimm who looked like a slender, wizened beringel, with a staff in his hand. "The magic of the God of Light himself, a shining light to burn away the darkness."

The karkadann-like creature said, "She was not near so strong the last time that she used the eyes."

"Then she has gotten stronger," declared the pegasus-unicorn.

"As all good warriors should seek to do," added the wizened beringel.

"Don't sound so admiring!" Tyrian snapped. "We have failed, again, to accomplish the will of the goddess!"

"Then perhaps the goddess should give us better servants!" snarled the karkadann-looking one. "How can we fight against the eyes of heaven with only grimm to serve under us?"

"Do you wish for other servants, my lords?" Sami asked. "Better servants? Or at least servants who are not vulnerable to silver eyes?"

"We would wish for many things," scoffed the pegasus-unicorn. "We would wish ourselves back in time to easier days, we would wish ourselves in more congenial forms than those in which we are imprisoned, we would wish ourselves kings and queens in truth as well as in name. We would wish, indeed, for the world and all its treasures, but yes, we would wish for armies such as we led in ancient times, but wishing will not make it so; what of it?"

Sami knelt. If there was one thing she had learnt already, it was that these were proud creatures, and they would not endure offence at her hands. So she knelt, that she might rise later. "Wishing will not make it so, my lady, but I know where – or how, at least – a better army, a human army, may be raised."

For a moment, all three of these grimm and yet not grimm-like creatures were silent. The wizened beringel spoke first. "What army? How?"

"In this land," Sami said, "there are many clans, my own, the Fall Forest Clan, amongst them. These clans are hardy and strong, for we are warriors, and all our folk are ever ready to take up arms to defend ourselves or to take what we will from the weak and feeble townsfolk whose villages infest the lands we roam. Some of these clans, my own amongst them, keep the old ways. We worship the old gods, we tell stories of the ancient powers – the powers that you wield, that you prove are more than stories. You, my lords, are ancient gods such as we tell stories of, such as we… such as we spill blood for in sacrifice, giving even the chieftain's old child to appease your wrath." She shuddered. "Appoint me to be your voice, and I will help you raise these clans in arms as your loyal soldiers."

"Pah!" spat the karkadann-like creature. "Unwashed savages? A rabble sprung from a dozen squabbling clans in furs and unkempt bears, that is the army that you offer."

"It is an army," argued the ape-like thing. He advanced upon Sami, and the crystal in his staff seemed to glow brighter. "My name is Corypheus, but men called me the Storm King, when they spoke of me. Do you speak true? It is no lie, this army that you tell us of?"

Sami looked up and into the Storm King's burning eyes. "No, my lord. I speak the truth with every word. When they hear that magic has returned to the world, they will flock to you."

"Not for the joy of serving me, I have no doubt," the Storm King said.

His eyes burned into her. Sami could not have lied even had she wished to do so. "No, my lord," she confessed. "Long have we sought the return of magic, such as our forefathers once possessed."

"You are of the old blood," the Storm King mused. "Interesting. Very well; serve me faithfully, and you will find me as generous a lord and more as… as the goddess," he said, with a mocking tint to his voice. He chuckled to himself. "You do not want these warriors, Sombra?"

Sombra was the one who looked like a karkadann; he shook his head. "I would rather teach these grimm to be soldiers than march at the head of a barbarian horde."

"Very well; I hope you do not rue it overmuch when you face Ruby Rose and Sunset Shimmer once again," the Storm King laughed. "And you, Selene?"

The one with the female voice stood up, flicking her wings out as she did so. "I was not one for armies, as you were. I will leave you to play the warlord, Storm King, and much joy may you have of it. For my part, I think that I shall seek out Tirek and see what he intends."

"And I must find a way to bear the goliaths across the water, to where Sunset Shimmer and her party head next," Sombra added.

"Then I shall turn my eyes away from Vacuo and begin my conquests here, amongst these wild and hardy folk," the Storm King declared, "and make a royal seat in Freeport with my army, which my new servant…"

"Sami, Lord," Sami informed him.

"Sami shall obtain for me," the Storm King concluded.

"Wait just a moment!" Tyrian cried. "How does making yourself king of that fleapit town or raising an army assist you in following the instructions of the goddess?"

"If your mistress wishes to chide me, she may come herself and make me bend the knee," the Storm King said. "Until then, I will not be ordered by a mere servant. I am a king and soon shall have an army and – after that a – kingdom to my name. I am not yours to command, and neither is this girl. She serves me now; you have no part of her."

Tyrian glared at Sami. He glared at her so hard that it was as if he was trying to poison her with his eyes instead of with his tail. "Insolent disobedience… you will regret this."

"Perhaps, but I doubt it," Sami said softly. She could not kill Sunset Shimmer as she was, she could not obtain magic as she was; she was too weak to obtain magic without already possessing magic. It was an iniquitous circle, one that would have closed upon her like a noose to strangle all her hopes except that there were other powers, powers which might be generous with the rewards for loyal service. Serving Tyrian, the most she might obtain was the chance to kill a Maiden and become a Maiden herself; but that would require her to kill a great warrior with only her own skills to rely on. But if the Storm King were to gift her with power, then… then the odds might become a little more even.

And even if it were not so… there were worse things than to be the right hand of a king.

Certainly it was better than being the apprentice of a servant, or a mere member of a band of warriors.

She would rise higher and higher without limit, until in her, all the dreams of the Fall Forest Clan came true.

It took Sunset a moment to recognise the house. It was wooden, and rustic, and homely, and not like anywhere that she had ever seen before.

Except it was. It just took her a moment to remember that this was Ruby’s house, the log cabin in the woods, with the sunflowers growing in the little flowerbeds outside and the deck to stand on and watch the world go by.

Sunset looked around, unsure what she was doing here. It was a nice place, warm and inviting, but that was only because of the people in it, not the place. It wasn’t the kind of place that she would choose to visit ordinarily.

“Ruby?” she called. “Ruby, are you there?”

There was no answer. The night was cold; Sunset could see her breath misting up in front of her face.

There was a light on in the kitchen.

“Hello?” Sunset called. “Hello in there?”

There was no answer, but the light stayed on.

Sunset supposed there was only one thing to do.

She walked up to the house, her boots thumping a little on the ground outside; she frowned as she reached the door, because the sunflowers were blooming. They shouldn’t have been, considering that it was night, and the moon, not the sun, was shining down upon them, but they were. Blooming sunflowers in the middle of the night. It was weird.

Sunset shook her head and knocked on the door all of one time, because it swung up at her slightest touch, so that her knuckles barely made a tap upon the wood.

Sunset walked inside. It was just like she remembered it, with the fire burning in the grate and the threadbare sofa and the TV. No people, though. No sign of Ruby or Taiyang or even the dog.

“Hello?” Sunset called again.

“I’m in here, Sunset,” came the reply. “Couldn’t you tell from the light?”

Sunset blinked. “Yang?”

“Right here,” Yang replied.

Sunset frowned, and the frown remained upon her face as she made her way into the kitchen, which was also just like she remembered it: rustic.

Yang stood by the sink, washing out a mug – her own mug, with her name written on it in vivid yellow letters – with a damp rag. She had a smile on her face as she turned around, still holding the mug, to lean against the kitchen surface. “Hey,” she said.

“Um, hey yourself,” Sunset said.

Yang chuckled. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Well… you are dead,” Sunset pointed out.

Yang shrugged. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sunset muttered. She winced at the selfishness of that. “I didn’t mean… I can’t compare it to-”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Yang assured her. “You’ve done enough of that.” She turned away for a moment and put the mug back in the cupboard with the others. “You’re not here so that I can yell at you or criticise you or even give you any advice.”

“Then why am I here?” Sunset asked.

“You’re here so I can tell you,” Yang said, turning back to face Sunset once more, “that you did a good job.” She grinned. “I mean, it wasn’t a perfect job, but, it was okay. Ruby lived, and so did most of everyone else. Ruby lived, and she’s going to be okay. You did a good job.”

Sunset blinked. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

“So?”

“So isn’t this just me telling myself that I did a good job?”

Yang shrugged. “Isn’t it about time you told yourself you did a good job?”

“I don’t…” Sunset hesitated, because the truth was that if she hadn’t been so bent on talking herself down at every conceivable opportunity, then Dawn would not have found such easy purchase in her head… but then the flipside of that was that because of Sunset, Sunsprite Rose was dead. “Maybe… and yet not.”

“Things have to be different from now on,” Yang said.

“I know,” Sunset said.

“You can’t go back to the way you were.”

“I know,” Sunset insisted.

“You have to-”

“Don’t say move forward; Cinder hates that,” Sunset said.

“Cinder might not like it, but you need to hear it,” Yang informed her. “You can’t dwell on the things that didn’t work out; you have to make sure that you-”

“Do better,” Sunset said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Yang said. “Even from yourself.”

“I’m pretty sure this is something like my fourth or fifth chance,” Sunset said.

Yang chuckled. “Just so long as you don’t need a sixth.” She paused for but a moment. “Thank you, Sunset.”

“For what?” Sunset asked softly.

“For taking care of my sister,” Yang said, and as she spoke the words, she disappeared, vanishing into the ether as though she had never been, turning to mist before Sunset’s eyes.

Like the mist that was filling up the house as the light in the kitchen went out.

“I am glad to see that your dreams are – just a little – more positive, Sunset Shimmer,” Princess Luna declared, from behind Sunset in the living room. “Although I see that there remains some work to be done.”

Sunset turned around. “Princess Luna?” she asked. She couldn’t help but fold her arms, and a slight tartness crept into her tone as she added, “At the risk of sounding rude, but your timing could be a little better.”

Princess Luna closed her eyes and bowed her head a little, her long and flowing mane of black and midnight blue drooping slightly in what looked like shame. “I am aware that I was not here when you might most have looked for aid, and when you were most in need of it. I sensed your distress, but… it was muted, muffled somehow, as though you were screaming into a pillow or…”

Sunset waited a moment. “Or what, Princess?”

“Trapped in a chest, your sobs barely audible,” Princess Luna finished, her voice softer now, barely more than a whisper.

“That… is not wholly inaccurate,” Sunset murmured.

“Indeed,” Princess Luna agreed. “I tried to reach you, but something kept me away. Our connection across worlds is faint enough already, and something… it was not like anything that I had ever felt before, it was like a shield around your mind, one that I could not penetrate.”

“Dawn,” Sunset said.

“Dawn?” Princess Luna replied. “My sister had a pupil of that name.”

“This was her human counterpart,” Sunset explained. “I’m guessing that part of the reason you couldn’t penetrate her was because she isn’t a pony, and so you had no connection to her.”

“But why was she shielding your mind?” Princess Luna asked.

Sunset opened her mouth, but then hesitated without actually saying. “I… forgive me, Princess, but I’m not sure how many times I want to tell this story. And I can already imagine that I’m going to have to tell it to Ruby and Cinder, and maybe the others too, and then I’m going to have to tell Twilight and Princess Celestia, and when we get to Anima, I might even have to tell Jaune and Pyrrha, and I… and I just… I’m not sure that I can…” She slumped forward, a sigh escaping from her lips. “How am I supposed to tell them what I did?”

Princess Luna was silent for a moment. “I will not demand that you tell me what you did, but it is difficult for me to answer else.”

Sunset laughed bitterly. “Yes, yes, Princess, I see your point. What I did… well, you might be glad to know that I didn’t put anybody’s lives at risk this time… except I did, even if I didn’t know it.” She slid down the doorframe, and as she slid, she was transformed, turning from human into unicorn, and as a unicorn, she sat down upon her haunches looking up at the princess of the moon. “I gave up,” she whispered.

Princess Luna said nothing. There was no judgement in her face or in her eyes. She simply looked down on Sunset and waited for her to continue.

“I gave up,” Sunset repeated. “Dawn got into my mind, using her semblance, she took control of my body, and I… I let her. I stopped fighting. I gave up, and because I gave up, my friends were put in danger. Ruby almost died, Cinder… all because I was tired. Because I felt guilty. Because letting it all end was easier than going on.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “How am I supposed to tell my friends that I didn’t have the courage or the strength to go on, that I would rather leave them to face the horrors of the fight alone just so that I wouldn’t have to feel bad anymore?”

Her eyes were still closed when she felt the feathers of the wing wrap around her, soft and warm and gentle; not so gentle as an embrace from Princess Celestia, but soft nonetheless. Sunset’s eyes opened to see Princess Luna sat beside her, looking down upon her with sadness in her eyes of midnight blue.

“None of that is anything to be ashamed of,” she declared. “Weariness, sadness, guilt, none of that is anything to be ashamed of. Not at all. And if your friends are truly your friends, then they will know that, even as I do.” She hesitated. “I am sorry that you had to fight that battle alone.”

“Fortunately, I wasn’t alone,” Sunset informed her. “I had Amber with me, in the end.”

Princess Luna didn’t press her for details; she simply said, “I am glad that someone was there, when I could not be. You must forgive me for being so infrequent a visitor, but you must understand that as the guardian of all of Equestria’s dreams, there are many demands on my attention.”

Sunset nodded. “I understand that I’m just one… just one life, Princess. I’m not the centre of the world, even if I sometimes think I am.”

Princess Luna chuckled. “But, since I am here now, you have no need to hide your feelings from me.”

“I’m not,” Sunset said. “I am… Amber helped me to… I know that I can’t obsess over my mistake at Vale any more. I can’t keep letting it define me. But at the same time, I can’t help but think about the evil that was done in my absence, when Dawn had control over my body, the way that my friends were put in danger, that Ruby’s cousin died… I know that guilt does me no good, but how can I just blithely dismiss the consequences of my actions?”

“Are you sure that you don’t consider yourself the centre of the world?” Princess Luna asked.

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “Princess?”

“What of the actions of others?” Princess Luna asked. “What of those who slew Ruby’s cousin? Had they no will of their own? Might they not have done the same whether you were there or no?”

“If I was there, I might have stopped it.”

“Then you will remember it and save the next soul in danger whom you come across,” Princess Luna told her. “But in the meantime, this Amber was quite correct; it does no good to dwell upon the guilt that we feel, the wrongs that we must atone for. In the end, as you have discovered, our guilt can do or threaten as much damage as that for which we felt the guilt.”

“Did you?” Sunset asked.

“Indeed,” Princess Luna declared. “I created a Tantabus, a creature of nightmare to torment me while I slept. I thought… do you know what Celestia did to me, on the night when I was returned to myself by Twilight and her friends?”

“I cannot imagine it was anything too harsh,” Sunset said, a trace of a smile upon her face.

“Nothing,” Princess Luna told her. “She stood over her and offered me the chance to rule beside her, as we had once before. She offered me the chance to be her sister again. And then we rode together in her chariot, and the little fillies garlanded me with roses, and all I could think was how little I deserved these praises and these honours. And so, since no one living would punish me, I created my own punishment to scourge me in my dreams.”

“I take it you didn’t tell Princess Celestia about this,” Sunset said dryly.

Princess Luna chuckled. “Indeed not; I can imagine what she might have said about it… largely because she said it, vociferously and at some length, once she did learn of it. But I, in my folly, was convinced that I needed to suffer.”

“And now?” Sunset asked.

Princess Luna smiled. “Twilight, as always. She helped me to see… to see better. She is an ophthalmologist of the soul.”

“A very handsome way of phrasing it, Princess,” Sunset said. “I… am glad you didn’t tell me about this Tantabus sooner; I might have been tempted to create one for myself.”

“No, lacking such, you simply submitted to the cage and the whip and the collar,” Princess Luna said.

“Was I wrong to do so?”

“According to the laws of the world you have chosen, perhaps not, but if you expected it to salve your guilt or restore your good name with those closest to you…” She paused. “No one who loves you will need you to prove the immensity of your sorrow by the depths of suffering you are willing to inflict upon yourself. No one who hates you will be convinced of your sincere repentance by the scars you carve into your flesh. And I’m sure that you have learned the great irony of all of this by now.”

Sunset smiled wryly. “That none of the suffering… it doesn’t even make us feel better.”

“Indeed,” Princess Luna agreed. “And that, in turn, makes us feel as though we must suffer more until we are practically addicted to it.”

“Even as we hate the fact we feel we need it,” Sunset murmured.

“Indeed,” Princess Luna agreed. “As for your original question, I am sure that if you tell your friends you do not wish to discuss it, they will not press you on the point, and as for this new guilt, I advise the same as I would have advised for the old guilt: remember it, but do not feel it.”

“Learn and do better,” Sunset said.

“Precisely,” Princess Luna said. “Can you do that?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment, but when she nodded her head, her movements were firm and precise. “I can,” she said. “I will. I will save Professor Ozpin, in whatever guise he is now, and I will do… no wrongs, or at least no old wrongs. I cannot claim to be so wise that I will avoid all the new wrongs that might cross my path.”

“No one is so wise, not even Twilight,” Princess Luna said.

“Perish the thought that the Princess of Friendship should be fallible,” Sunset declared in mock horror. “But I will not torture myself further; you have my word.”

“It is not I who requires your word on that, Sunset Shimmer, but yourself,” Princess Luna reminded her.

Sunset let out a little solitary sigh. “You are correct, of course, Princess. Very well then; I have my word.”

“And what will you do instead?”

“Be proud,” Sunset said. “Be vain, be utterly sure of myself… even to my own detriment.” She smiled, but only briefly; like a peek of sunlight through the clouds it vanished ere it was seen. “Be humble, be my harshest critic, be Professor Ozpin’s servant and let him use me as he will, even as a pack mule or a hunting hound. I shall be… I shall be myself, in all things save this guilt that has weighed me down and the selfishness I came to rue and so obtained the guilt. And I will…”

Princess Luna blinked. “And you will what?”

“I am not yet sure,” Sunset admitted. “But I… in my vanity, that I have mentioned, I do not wish to simply be another in a line of servants to kneel before Professor Ozpin and fight his battles for him. I wish for more than to leave this struggle to Jaune and Pyrrha’s children and the new generation that will follow us. I would see Pyrrha’s dream made reality. I would see Remnant made safe for those that will come after.”

“You would save the world?” Princess Luna asked.

“If I knew how,” Sunset replied. “I do not seek to draw level with Twilight’s count; where does that stand now?”

“Four times, at present,” Princess Luna replied.

Sunset chuckled. “Once will be enough for me… although I do not know the way.”

“Don’t let that stop you searching for it,” Princess Luna said. “For even if you do not find it, I think that in the seeking you will discover much that is worthwhile and of great good to the world.”

Sunset got back up onto her hooves. “I shall,” she said. “Thank you, Princess. I hope… I hope to see you soon in the waking world.”

“Ah, yes, your desire to travel through Equestria.”

Sunset laughed. “At this point, Princess, I must confess that I simply wish to come home, if only for a short visit. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Princess Luna said at once. “No, I think you would be most welcome. Until then, Sunset Shimmer, fare well and the greatest of good fortune.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Fare well, princess.”
Sunset opened her eyes, and then immediately shut them again against the glare streaming in from the window.

It was not a wide window by any means – it was a very narrow window, made to keep out arrows as much as let in light, and that fact told Sunset that she was back in the Tower of the Sun – but it was shining right in Sunset’s face and into her eyes, and so, she screwed them tight up as she pushed her chair backwards, scraping across the stone floor.

“Huh?” Ruby murmured, and Sunset – opening her eyes now that she was out of the direct sunlight – saw that while Sunset was sat in an admittedly large chair, swathed in a great brown bear pelt serving as a blanket, Ruby was snuggled up in a bed that was a lot bigger that someone her size needed, buried beneath furs and blankets, her head protruding above them like a burrowing creature sticking its head above the soil.

Her silver eyes fluttered open. “Sunset?”

Sunset smiled. “Hey. Good morning. At least, I think it’s morning.”

“Morning,” Ruby replied as she struggled to free herself from under the mass of bedclothes she was buried under. As she managed to get her arms out from under the covers, she asked, “Where are we?”

“You’re in the Tower of the Sun, in what used to be the Queen’s bedchamber,” Ember announced, making her presence felt in the room. Sunset looked around and saw her sitting in the corner, in a smaller and less comfortable-looking chair than Sunset had been sleeping in, her arms folded across her chest. The sceptre of her rule sat in her lap, the fire dust set atop it glimmering in the sunlight. “And it is the morning: Thursday morning, to be precise.” She smiled. “I hope you’re feeling a little better.”

The bear pelt shrugged off Sunset and fell to the floor in a heap before her feet as Sunset got up. “Lady Ember-”

“You can sit down again if you want,” Ember said. “You have no need to show me any deference.” It was her turn to rise now, the wooden chair on which she had been sitting creaked a little as she vacated it. She gripped the sceptre tightly in one hand. “It is for me to do honour to the saviours of Freeport.” She knelt, in a single fluid motion, dropping to one knee in front of Sunset, the fire dust crystal set in her sceptre held above her heart. Her head was bowed, although her eyes remained open, fixed on Sunset’s boots.

Ruby struggled to get out of bed. Sunset gave her a hand, a touch of telekinesis lifting some of the troublesome layers away. “You don’t need to-”

“Yes,” Ember said firmly. “I do. Everyone knows that it was you two, and the two of you alone, who saved Freeport last night.”

“Everyone did their-”

“Everyone is crediting the two of you,” Ember informed them both. “And for that reason I owe you my thanks, mine own and those of the Summer Fire Clan. Thanks to you, my people are safe, and all have lived to see the sunrise. I owe you my undying gratitude… and my most grave apology.”

“'Apology'?” Sunset repeated. “What for?”

Ember was silent for a moment. “It took me too long to see that the Sun Queen had become wicked, that all of her promises of peace and security had become worthless if she was willing to betray those around her so easily. Rutherford saw it, but not only was I blind to it, but I allowed myself and my clan to become the Sun Queen’s tools in enforcing her will.”

Sunset stared down at her; one might almost say that she glared down at her. “Is this true?” she asked Ruby, her words growing claws.

“Y-yes,” Ruby murmured. “But she also joined with Prince Rutherford to save me from Tyrian.”

“Too late,” Ember muttered.

“Mhmm,” Sunset mused. She turned away, her tail flicking back and forth, her hands clenching into fists. So, she had helped Ruby and the rest, but only after putting them in danger first, eh? Sunset’s other self had been willing to sacrifice anyone in order to maintain her power and her life, and it had only lately occurred to Ember that, well, she would be willing to sacrifice anybody in order to maintain her power and her life?

Mind you, I’m hardly in a position to lecture anyone on that front.

Sunset turned back. Ember remained where she was, kneeling on the floor in front of them. Sunset glanced at Ruby, to confirm that she sought no vengeance upon the lord of the Summer Fire.

Ruby’s smile, and the look in her bright silver eyes, were all the answer that she required.

“Rise, Lady Ember, please,” Sunset said. “You did what you did for the sake of your people; I have neither right nor will nor desire to fault you for that, still less to judge you.”

Ember rose cautiously to her feet, her blue eyes wary. “That’s it? I was expecting something a little more… I was expecting something.”

“I am not your queen,” Sunset declared, although that probably didn’t mean as much to Ember as it did to Sunset herself. “I cannot fault you, and I certainly cannot… do anything, if that was what you expected. Did you want us to punish you?”

“You may do with me as you like,” Ember said. “You may kill me, if you like.”

“I do not like,” Sunset insisted. “I don’t even like the idea.”

“Me neither,” Ruby said. “We don’t do that kind of thing, especially not for trying to do the right thing.”

Ember looked at Ruby now, her eyes widening. “You call arresting your companions and almost standing by while you were put to death the right thing?”

“I thought that going to my death was the right thing,” Ruby replied. “I guess we were all pretty confused last night.”

Ember shook her head in disbelief. “You are a strange folk, you from the kingdoms,” she declared. “Nevertheless, if you wish it, I will give up my sceptre and make way for another lord of the clan as my father did before me.”

“I’m guessing your father was a little older than you are now,” Sunset remarked.

“Yes, of course, but I will do it nonetheless; it’s important that the lord of the Summer Fire Clan enjoys your confidence.”

“Why?” Sunset demanded. “Why does that matter at all?”

The hinges creaked on the iron-banded door as it swung inwards into the room. Cinder walked inside, stopping in her tracks just a few paces in.

“You’re awake,” she observed. “Nobody told me.”

Sunset grinned. “It was only a moment ago.”

“Nevertheless,” Cinder replied. She smirked. “Have you two been told that you’re the heroes of the hour yet?”

“As it happens, yes,” Sunset said.

“And about time too; you’re due some recognition,” Cinder said lightly. She paused. “It’s going to make you absolutely insufferable, isn’t it?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sunset agreed. “Hero of Freeport does have a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

Cinder chuckled. “Newly wakened but in fine form.”

“Newly wakened in more ways than one,” Sunset replied.

Cinder raised one eyebrow. “Indeed? And how are you, Ruby?”

“I’m okay,” Ruby murmured. “I’m… better, now, thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cinder said softly, with a slight inclining of her head. “Will you have breakfast first, or are you up to visitors?”

“Some privacy would be appreciated for a little longer,” Ember declared. “Although Prince Rutherford’s presence would be welcomed.”

Cinder glanced at Sunset, who gave her a very slight nod of the head.

“Very well,” Cinder agreed, and she backed out of the room once more and closed the door behind her. The hinges squeaked again.

Ember waited until the door was closed before she began to speak again. “You saved Freeport and the clans last night,” she said. “And for that, you have my thanks, and when Prince Rutherford arrives, I have no doubt that you will have his thanks as well.” She offered a slight, wry smile, “I hope you’re not too attached to your ribcages.”

Sunset snorted. “I’m sure we’ll make do without.”

Ember nodded approvingly. “For his part, Rutherford never liked the idea of abandoning you to the Sun Queen’s mercy. He always felt that, even if you weren’t owed the protection of Freeport, then you were at least owed the protection of the Frost Mountain Clan. The only reason he did not come to you aid sooner is that I threatened to set my strength against his. Please, don’t hold it against him; again, the fault is mine, not his.”

“You condemn yourself as much as I did,” Sunset observed.

“Did you have cause to condemn yourself?” Ember asked.

Sunset winced. “A little bit, yeah.”

“Well then,” Ember replied. “Are you sure you would not rather deal with someone else? My father is not so old that he could not retake the reins of-”

“We didn’t come here to depose chieftains,” Sunset assured her.

“Did you come here to dethrone queens?” Ember asked. “Because you seem to have done that.”

Sunset did not know what to say to that; it was true, after all. Two Sunsets had gone up the tower, and only one of them had come back down again. Not only was the Sun Queen dead, but her closest adviser and most faithful follower, too.

I could blame my rage for making me heedless, but the truth is that, in my rage, I would not have cared even if I’d known.

“We don’t want to depose you or force you to step down or anything like that,” Ruby said. “So, why don’t you just tell us what you want to say, and then we can deal with it from there?” She smiled in what might have been meant to be an encouraging manner but which ended up seeming a little nervous.

Ember glanced down at the sceptre she held in one hand, “Right. Straight to the point. Okay then. Free-”

The door crashed open, hitting the wall behind it with a crunch so solid that the wood shook between the iron bands, and Sunset half-expected the door itself to shatter into splinters under the force that had been exerted on it.

Prince Rutherford stood in the doorway, struggling to fit his broad shoulders through it, the horns upon his helmet sticking so that the helm itself fell off his head; he had to duck to avoid banging his head upon the stone doorframe.

“Friends awake!” he bellowed, spreading his arms, each as thick as a tree trunk, out on either side of him as he strode into the room. “Prince Rutherford overjoyed to see friends hale and hearty!” Ember wisely scrambled out of the way as Prince Rutherford bore down upon them, taking Sunset and Ruby both within his great arms and pressing them against his barrel chest. Sunset could feel Prince Rutherford’s mailshirt pressing against her cheek, just as she could feel the fur of his cloak against one of her ears.

The embrace was tight, and Sunset was exceedingly glad of her aura as she felt her body contort in ways that it was probably not meant to. But she did not complain. In fact, as Prince Rutherford squeezed her tight as if she were a juice box from which he was trying to extract the very last drops of liquid, Sunset found herself smiling.

It was really very lovely to be wanted.

When she opened one eye, she found that Ruby was smiling too.

And that made it even better.

Prince Rutherford released them both, and Sunset’s pleasure at the prince’s obvious appreciation did not quite prevent her from staggering backwards away from him. The prince either did not notice or did not care, for he laughed jovially as he clasped them both on the shoulders hard enough to cause their knees to buckle.

“Hail, Sunset Shimmer, bane of grimm; hail, Ruby Rose, bringer of light and caster out of darkness. Sunset Grimmbane and Ruby Lightbringer, Prince Rutherford names friends, and friends bear names proudly, forevermore!”

Sunset glanced at Ruby. Sunset Grimmslayer, eh? Well, I’m not sure what Princess Celestia would say – she’d probably be mildly horrified – but, as someone who has lived in Remnant too long… I have to say, I think it sounds pretty cool.

Probably not something I could use in Atlas or Vale, but in Mistral, they might take it seriously.

Ruby did not look nearly as sure as Sunset did, but then, Rose was her mother’s name and meant a lot to her accordingly. If she would rather go by plain old Ruby Rose… well, it was hardly plain to her, was it?

Sunset took the lead in answering, bowing to the prince. “You honour us, my prince.”

Prince Rutherford shook his head. “Prince Rutherford cannot honour friend who does friends-self such honour. Twice now, Grimmslayer saved Frost Mountain Clan, and Frost Mountain Clan will not forget. Yona!”

“Coming, Uncle Prince Rutherford,” Yona declared as she bounded into the room, nearly tripping over the hem of her skirt and having to be grabbed by Smolder to prevent it. Smolder smiled affectionately at her as she scooped up Prince Rutherford’s helmet off the floor – putting it on the chair that Ember had recently vacated – and shut the door.

“Ruby! Sunset!” Yona cried. “Yona glad to see you again!” She was holding Zwei in her arms, and the dog barked happily, adding his pleasure to her own.

Ruby grinned. “Ruby glad to see Yona too,” she said. “And you, Smolder.”

“I’m glad that we’re all alive to see each other,” Smolder said. “They say you saved the whole town last night. Pretty awesome, if you ask me. Which one of you was it that made that bright light that lit up the whole sky?”

“That would be Ruby,” Sunset said.

“Woah,” Smolder gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were that powerful?”

Ruby laughed nervously. “It’s not that big of a deal, really.”

“Many are alive today who would be dead without you,” Ember said. “That is… I cannot imagine a bigger deal.”

Ruby’s cheeks began to heat up. “So, uh, where did Zwei come from?”

Yona scratched Zwei behind the ears as she said, “Little dog came running to Yona in Frost Mountain camp.” She grinned. “Little dog like Yona best!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Ruby yelled. “For the last time, you can’t take my dog!”

“But Ruby and Sunset can take gifts!” Yona cried, putting Zwei down – he leapt up into Ruby’s arms and immediately began to lick her face – and removing the bundle that she had been wearing across her back. It rattled a little against the stone floor, and when she opened it, the bundle turned out to contain a pair of polished helmets, bound in steel and filigreed with gold, each one mounting a pair of impressive horns jutting out from the sides.

Prince Rutherford used the horns to pick up the two helms. “Horns belonged to mountain yak hunted by Rutherford’s grandfather; yaks are strong and mighty beasts, and yak horns sit on helmets only of strong and mighty warriors.” He held out both the helmets to them. “Sunset and Ruby more than friends; Sunset and Ruby honorary members of Frost Mountain Clan; take helmets, so all may know.”

Sunset gazed down at the helmet that he was offering her. She glanced momentarily at Ruby’s, which was topped by a horsehair crest as red as blood rising out of the top of the helmet, before returning to her own gift which was, in a word, stunning.

The horns were magnificent, but more than that, the workmanship was exquisite, with a golden serpent – it looked almost draconic, reminding Sunset of the bones that she had seen in Mistral – forming a sort of crest, placed as it was down the very centre line of the helmet. Ornate images of war – soldiers mustering and marching and finally engaging in desperate battle, two shieldwalls locked together thrusting at one another – were debossed just above the rim of the helmet, while the two segmented cheek guards were decorated with ornate runes in a tongue that Sunset could not read; there was a mask too, a mask of iron to protect and hide her face in equal measure. Sunset guessed that, if she were to wear it, then even her eyes would be invisible to her foes.

She was torn between a feeling that, if she were to put this on, then she would look incredible, like a warlord, and feeling that it would look ridiculously incongruous paired with her leather jacket and skinny jeans.

Ruby’s helmet did not have a mask, only a thick guard for her nose and around her eyes, but it was likewise debossed; in her case, judging by what Sunset could see, the scenes that had been chosen to decorate her helmet were more pastoral in nature: hunting in the woods, gathering in the fields, marriage, the birth of a child, caring for a sickly elder.

“Those helmets were originally fashioned by the Summer Fire Clan,” Ember declared. “Fashioned in the fires of Scintilla’s Forge, before the Outlanders’ War. They are amongst the finest work that our clan has ever – maybe will ever – make, and they were given to the Frost Mountain Clan as a token of our friendship. Whereupon they decide to ruin them by sticking horns on the side.”

“Helmet without horns no helmet at all!” Prince Rutherford declared.

Ember scoffed, but her serious demeanour returned. “The Summer Fire Clan doesn’t do… honourary member,” she said, “but take our work and remember that the Frost Mountain Clan isn’t the only one who owes you a debt or offers you friendship.”

“We’re honoured, really,” Ruby murmured, as she tentatively reached out and took the helmet from Prince Rutherford’s unprotesting hand, “but you really don’t need to thank us like this. We only did… it’s true that Sunset and I have great powers, powers that few others have, but at the end of the day, we’re still just huntresses, and huntresses don’t save people for reward.”

“That may be how it works in the kingdoms,” Ember replied, “but here, great service should be rewarded with great honour and the tokens of esteem.”

“We understand,” Sunset said, taking her own helmet. She could feel the raised figures through her gloves as she ran her fingertips around the ornately adorned metal. “And we are very grateful.”

“You’re getting these because we’re grateful,” Smolder insisted. “How can you be grateful for gratitude?”

“Because I haven’t had very much of it, lately,” Sunset replied bluntly. Perhaps a little too bluntly, given the way that Ruby looked away in embarrassment.

“Smolder, Yona, will you give us a moment?” Ember asked. “We have some important things to talk about.”

“Ember’s plan not work,” Prince Rutherford muttered.

“It’s our best shot,” Ember replied heatedly.

“What is?” Ruby asked.

Ember glanced at the two younger members of their respective clans. Only when they, like Cinder before her, had left the room did she speak. “It’s not a mystery,” she explained. “It’s just that the fewer interruptions we have, the better.”

Sunset levitated her helmet gently down onto the bed. With her hands thus freed up, she could fold her arms. “So, we’re finally getting down to business?”

Ember nodded. “Freeport is saved, thanks to the two of you,” she said, “but Freeport is also wounded. The Queen is dead, and even before she died, she proved herself unworthy of the power that she held and the trust that so many of us placed in her.” She paused for a moment. “Not everyone in Freeport knows that you killed the Sun Queen, but everyone knows that she did not lead the fight to defend Freeport against the grimm; the city is alive with rumours: some say she’s dead, others that she fled in terror when the grimm attacked, others still that she has been gone for some time already.”

“The disadvantage of wearing a mask,” Sunset said. “Nobody could be sure that it was really her.”

“Perhaps,” Ember conceded. “Amongst those who don’t believe that she is dead… I’ll be honest, the fact that she was willing to betray anyone to keep herself safe matters less than the fact that she didn’t lead the defence of Freeport last night. Freeport – this whole kingdom of Estmorland – was built upon the promise that the Sun Queen would bring order and security to lands that have known too little of either. Without that… many say good riddance to a queen who would not fight for her people in their hour of need.”

“And I suppose some ask what, that being the case, is the point in Freeport and the Kingdom of Estmorland,” Sunset said.

“You suppose right,” Ember said. “The Fall Forest Clan stole away from Freeport ere the dawn broke; the Ice River Clan is thinking of leaving as well. Laurel says that there have been desertions from the Rangers recruited from outlying settlements as the warriors return to their homes. Freeport wasn’t devoured by the grimm, but it’s going to fall apart regardless.”

“Because of us,” Sunset murmured.

“I didn’t say that,” Ember said.

“You didn’t have to,” Sunset replied. “Freeport was held together by a queen upon a throne, and thanks to me, the queen is dead, and that throne is empty.” She smiled wryly. “This may sound selfish, but so far, the only good news I’ve heard is that nobody wants my head on a platter for what I did.”

There was a slight shrug in Ember’s shoulders. “Like I said, nobody cares about a queen who didn’t fight for her people.”

“They might think differently if they knew that the reason the Queen didn’t fight for her people was because I killed her,” Sunset pointed out.

“And then you went out and you fought for Freeport,” Ember reminded her. “You are the Grimmbane, remember? The Rangers say that you held off every attack upon the lines except the last, which was destroyed by you, Ruby. It’s true that they don’t know that you struck down their Queen, but even if they knew that, they would also know that you are the one who saved them, saved their homes, saved their families. In the end, even if they knew everything, that would still count for more. And that is why I ask you, both of you, to save Freeport again.”

“How?” Ruby asked. “What do you mean?”

“As Sunset said, Freeport was the dream of the Sun Queen, held together by her will,” Ember said, “and now, the Queen is dead. Dawn’s dead too; died in her sleep, it seems. There are some,” – here Ember glanced at Prince Rutherford, who looked unfazed by the glare that she was shooting him – “who might think they wouldn’t mind if Freeport and Estmorland and all the Sun Queen’s dreams collapsed to nothing without her. But he would be wrong.”

"Sun Queen's dreams all lies!" Prince Rutherford declared. "Sun Queen's whole reign built on lies: lies to Prince Rutherford, lies to Ember, lies to everyone!”

"The peace she brought wasn’t a lie" Ruby declared. "Isn't it a good thing that she stopped you from fighting, stopped people from dying? I mean, sure, it sounds like it might have been better if she'd just pointed out to the both of you that you were being kind of stupid, but… I know that she tried to kill me, and take over Sunset's body, and a lot of other bad things too, but she was doing it all for-"

"Careful, Ruby; you're about to argue that the ends justify the means," Sunset murmured, with just the slightest little touch of amusement in her voice.

"I am not!" Ruby cried. "I'm just… I know that she shouldn't have done what she did, but what she did it for… just because she did wicked things to save Freeport doesn't mean Freeport doesn't deserve to be saved."

"Freeport means nothing," Prince Rutherford insisted. "Freeport nothing but Sun Queen ruling over Frost Mountain Clan and changing ways of Frost Mountain Clan, and all clans too."

"The ways of some clans sound like they needed changing," Sunset observed.

"Maybe that's true, but does it have to be that way?" Ruby asked, ignoring Sunset and speaking to Prince Rutherford. "Can you really say that you've gotten nothing out of this? What about the peace? What about the friendship between the Frost Mountain Clan and the Summer Fire Clan? What about the fact that you don't have to worry about the Fall Forest Clan and their sacrifices? What about these?" she demanded, picking up Sunset's helmet in one hand and holding up her own in the other. "Something that was made by the Summer Fire Clan, and then made different by the Frost Mountain Clan, becoming something new."

"Something worse," Ember said.

"Something better," replied Prince Rutherford.

"Something different," Ruby insisted. "Something that never would have happened without Freeport and the peace and friendship between you two. Look at Yona and Smoulder! Do you really want to walk away from that? Do you really want to let that die?"

Ember smiled. "Don't talk to me about that; talk to him."

"Prince Rutherford have no wish for struggle," Prince Rutherford said, "but Freeport was making of Sun Queen; now Queen gone and good riddance, so what is Freeport now?"

"A place where you can work together to build a better future, for all the clans and everyone who lives in Estmorland," Ruby said. "Somewhere you can talk instead of fighting, somewhere you can shelter from the grimm, just like you did. Isn't it at least worth trying to hold that together?"

"I agree, but I'm also curious," Sunset said. "Why are you telling all of this to us? Isn't this the sort of thing you should be hashing out amongst yourselves or with your fellow chiefs? Or even with Laurel and Cherry?"

"The Queen's servants are discredited," Ember said. "They may not have agreed wholly with what she was doing, but they went along with it in the end; I can't trust them any more than we could trust her if she lived. No, if it is to survive, then Freeport requires fresh leadership, a queen that we can trust, a queen that people look up to, a queen that can command the love and respect of Freeport and the clans." She looked at Rutherford. "So, Rutherford, what say you now?"

Rutherford said nothing, but he nodded his head.

"Thank you," Ember said. "This will be worth it, I promise." She looked first Sunset, and then at Ruby. "Sunset Shimmer, Ruby Rose… we would like to offer you the crowns of Freeport."

Sunset's jaw dropped. Ruby's silver eyes widened in shock. Of all the things that Sunset had expected to come out of Ember's mouth, that was definitely not one of them.

The crown? A crown, at least, a crown for her and a crown for Ruby, but still… a crown? They offered to make her a queen?

Would they let me change my title to Princess instead?

If I were their diarch, I don't think they could stop me.

Really? Really? This is what you're thinking about? Are you kidding me right now?

Sunset laughed, unable to hold it in. The laughter gushed forth out of her mouth like lava flows pouring down the sides of an erupting volcano. The irony of it all was too, too tremendous not to laugh. How long had it been since this would have been all she wanted? Not too long. Even at Beacon, she would have given much for this, almost anything. If she had had any inkling that this opportunity existed, she probably would have done as her human counterpart did and set off here with the intent of carving out a realm for herself, dragging her friends… no. No, she could not claim to be so bold; she had always feared the grimm too much to indulge in such wild and wide-eyed fancies as venturing forth into the wilds with no safety net to guarantee her life; certainly, she would never have risked her friends that way; she was too cautious with them by far.

But the fact remained: this had been her dream. A crown. A glorious crown. A band of gilded majesty. How it had haunted her dreams these many years. Of the symbols of royalty, she had desired a pair of wings more, but the crown – or diadem at least – had been a close second. Her mind had dwelt on sovereignty. She had gone to bed dreaming of the crown and awoken to plot and scheme anew how she might get the crown. Even as her relationship with Princess Celestia was destroyed by those ambitions, still Sunset clung to them, preferring to sacrifice the love of the wisest and most gentle princess in all the many worlds which existed or which might exist rather than yield up her dream of becoming a princess in her own right. In Remnant, she had held less hope of diadems or coronets, for this was a world which had cast down its monarchs and did not raise up new ones. Pyrrha was a princess by ancient blood right, but Sunset would never be elevated to be her equal.

Her ambitions had lowered from crown to glory, from ascension via magic to ascension in the eyes and hearts of men who would acclaim her.

Now she was offered… it was not magical ascent, true, but then she had already done that in a manner of speaking. She was an alicorn; now they would make her a queen.

Except now, she had no need of it. Their offer came too late.

Sunset wiped at her eye with one hand. "Forgive me," she said, "but if you knew me better, you would understand why I must laugh. Just as, if you knew me better, you would know that I must decline."

"'Decline'?" Ember repeated. "You're saying no? After everything that I've explained to you, after making clear that Freeport needs this, needs you-"

“Freeport needs leadership,” Sunset allowed. “I… I do not know that it needs a sovereign ruler.” That stuck in her craw to say, being who she was, having been raised as she had been; it felt like she was betraying Princess Celestia just to say it, but then, these people were not proposing to set a wise immortal upon the throne of Freeport; they were proposing to set Sunset Shimmer with all her flaws upon the highest seat, and that was, she supposed, a rather different proposition from the perspective of good governance.

“What Sunset propose?” Prince Rutherford asked.

“A Council, as the king- as the other kingdoms have,” Sunset suggested. “It could be as large or as small as you like; Vale and Mistral make do with only five members, but Atlas has seven.”

“And who would sit upon this Council?” Ember demanded. “How would they be chosen? How would they get anything done?”

Sunset spread out her arms. “If you wish me to write you a constitution before I take my leave of Freeport, I will do my utmost to oblige, but really, the answer to all these questions is that you may choose as you like; that’s the point: it is your kingdom now and your government.”

“How councillors chosen in kingdoms?” Prince Rutherford asked.

“We elect them,” Ruby answered. “Everyone, everyone over a certain age, gets to vote; they get to choose who sits on the Council and speaks for them.”

“With some exceptions,” Sunset added. “And the method of voting varies from kingdom to kingdom, but Ruby’s right, that’s about the size of it.”

“So it’s a popularity contest?” Ember asked incredulously. “That’s ridiculous!”

Privately, Sunset was – at least somewhat – inclined to agree; witness the fate of Councillor Aris, who had taken credit for the shining of the sun and then been hurled out of office when the clouds began to gather and the cold set in. She had not changed; she had not lost any of the wisdom she had possessed when she was elected into office; the only thing that had changed had been the opinions of the fickle multitudes, but that had been sufficient to cast her from the heights of power into the dark depths of obscurity.

None of which would do much to mollify Ember, and so Sunset said, in a rather calm voice, “It appears to have worked for eighty years in the kingdoms.”

“Really?” Ember replied. “And no prize idiot has ever been chosen in any of your kingdoms simply because they were popular? No one has ever gotten themselves chosen by giving out treasure as though their hoard was bottomless?”

Sunset and Ruby glanced uncomfortably. “Well,” Ruby said, “it doesn’t happen all the time.”

“Probably no more often than a weak chief ascends to the lordship of their clan,” Sunset muttered, saying yet more words that did her moral violence to say, but which it seemed politic and even necessary to say if they were to escape without condemnation.”

Ember shook her head. “It will not work here,” she said flatly. “For generations untold, we have followed our clan lords, who inherit their ranks or else attain them in contests of strength and wisdom. The Sun Queen, for all that she did and all that she was, understood that when she took the throne: we follow strength here. Your kingdoms may be so old that you can do without a king, but we are hardly a kingdom at all. You can’t just impose a new way on everyone and expect it to work.”

As much as Sunset didn’t like it, Ember had made a good point. The kingdoms of Vale and Mistral had both been hundreds of years old when King and Emperor respectively had laid down their crowns; the people of those lands had thought of themselves as belonging to Vale and Mistral for so long that it would have been alien to have thought of themselves any other way. In just such a fashion, even if – heaven forfend – Princess Celestia had disappeared, sheer inertia would have prevented the pony tribes from drifting apart into their own nations as had existed before the first Hearth’s Warming. Generations untold, as Ember put it, had never known anything but Equestria and had no framework to imagine anything else.

Here in Estmorland, it was different. The other Sunset had been in the process of making a nation out of nothing, and if the history of Remnant’s other kingdoms – the ones that had lasted and the ones that had not – taught anything, it was that fledgling realms of this sort either endured for a long span of years or else collapsed upon the death of the charismatic ruler who first called them into being.

It looked as though the latter would be more Estmorland’s fate, unless a solution could be found.

“Very well, you need a monarch, or a pair of diarchs,” Sunset conceded. It was undoubtedly the more sensible way to run a nation, after all. “Why does it have to be us?”

"Because you're the ones who defeated the grimm!" Ember snapped. "Everyone in Freeport knows it, and everyone beyond will know it too once word starts to spread. Like Ruby said, part of Freeport – one of the most important parts of Freeport – was that it was a place where we could come to be safe, that the Queen's Rangers would protect us. The Queen broke that promise, and how are we supposed to just give the crown to just anybody and trust that they won't break the promise too? But you… you two kept that promise. You defended Freeport, you saved us all, you fought as queens should fight – and don't tell me that you fought as huntresses; you destroyed whole armies single handed, that is not the work of a warrior. That is the work of a hero, and in this land, we bow to heroes. You have the power to defend this land-"

"And the strength to bend the other clans back to our will?" Sunset demanded.

Ember was silent for a moment. "If necessary," she admitted.

"The Sun Queen also wanted to make a weapon out of me," Sunset pointed out, her words growing claws.

Ember flinched, even as she said, "I'm not asking you to destroy anyone I don't like; I'm asking you to fight for what's right."

"And I will," Sunset said, "but not here."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Ember demanded. "You can't just walk into our land, smash everything up, and then swan off afterwards – and no, Rutherford, I don't want to hear it!" She snorted out of her nostrils. "Who do you think you are?"

Sunset met her gaze evenly. "I am a good servant to my lord, who waits for me in dire need. I have sworn myself to a quest with a long road ahead from which I cannot turn away, not even for a throne. Not even… not even for a fire I helped to ignite."

“But,” Ruby said, her voice soft and yet so loud that it commanded the attention of all in the room. “But that doesn’t mean that we don’t understand. You make a very good point, Ember. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble, but because of us… because we came here, your queen is dead, and so is my cousin, and… that is our responsibility, even if it’s not our fault. And so I…” – she glanced at Sunset, and held her gaze there for a moment, only to look away again a moment later – “I will take the throne of Freeport, if you think it will help.”

“Ruby,” Sunset gasped.

“I was willing to stay before, to help defend Freeport,” Ruby reminded her. “Why shouldn’t I be willing to do the same now?”

“You had…” Sunset faltered; there was no good way to say that Ruby’s cousin had been alive then and was dead now.

“I know,” Ruby replied, guessing her mind. “But I still have my grandfather, and with Sunsprite gone… he’ll be all alone, and it seems as cruel to do that to him as it does to just walk away from Freeport after all that we’ve done.”

But I just got you back, Sunset thought; it was unworthy, and verged upon childish, but there it was. She did not say it, however; she did not even think it for very long. Choice was the most powerful magic of all, and Ruby was making hers. She was, as Pyrrha would have said, choosing her destiny. She would no longer be a wandering hero, Olivia-like, but she was nevertheless making a very Olivia-like choice, giving up her own happiness for the greater good of a nascent kingdom.

I shouldn’t be moaning; I should be proud of her.

I am proud of her.

Nevertheless, as she placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder, she asked, “Are you sure about this?” Because it never hurt to be sure.

Ruby didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she said. “If Freeport wants me for its queen, then I will be its queen. But not like… not like the Sun Queen was.” She turned to Ember and Prince Rutherford. “I will be your ruler, but I’m not going to rule you. I won’t let you hurt others, or sacrifice people, or terrorise your neighbours, but other than that, I’m not going to set limits on what you can and can’t do. You’re going to do that yourselves, as my councillors.”

Ember rolled her eyes. “This again, I told you-”

“I know that you don’t want elections, and I’m not talking about that; I’m talking about getting all the clan chiefs and all the lords of the towns who want to be a part of Freeport together in a room where you can all talk about things. You can settle your disputes and organise your protection and make the laws that will bind everyone. You’ll all work to make Estmorland a kingdom you can share and be proud of.”

“And what will Ruby do while clan lords do all work?” Prince Rutherford asked suspiciously.

“I… I’ll make the final decision if you can’t agree on something,” Ruby said. “I’ll lead the Rangers to protect the land against the grimm, or any clan or bandits or anyone who's trying to cause trouble or threaten the peace. And I will fight against Salem, to make as sure as I can be that she and her evil will never trouble Freeport or Estmorland again.”

“That seems more court than Council, but I suppose that’s mere semantics at this stage,” Sunset said. “As for the rest, I mean to help you with that last ambition. It is my aim to see Salem defeated once and for all… although I confess that I do not yet know how it is to be accomplished.”

Ruby smiled at her. “You’ll figure it out.”

Sunset blinked. “I’m sorry, I’ll figure it out?”

“Yeah.”

“I just told you I’m aiming to defeat the person Professor Ozpin told us couldn’t be beaten, and your response is that I’ll figure it out?”

“If you don’t think you can do it, then why did you say it?” Ruby asked.

“Because that’s what I do: I talk out my backside about what big plans I have.”

“And then you come through,” Ruby pointed out. “I’ve got faith in you, Sunset. Which is why I’m going to appoint you as my roving ambassador to everywhere.”

“'Ambassador to everywhere'?”

Ruby nodded. “Your first mission for Freeport is to go to Atlas and Mistral and make alliances with them and get them to send us some help. Ooh, maybe you can get General Ironwood to help us build a CCT tower! Actually, that should probably be ‘build us a CCT tower,’ shouldn’t it?”

“What’s this?” Ember asked.

“I want to link us to the other kingdoms,” Ruby explained. “The Sun Queen thought that the best thing she could do was hide until she was strong enough to fight, but I think that we’re stronger together, and so I want to invite the other kingdoms to come here and help us.”

“Last time kingdoms helped clans, kingdoms put clanfolk in chains,” Prince Rutherford muttered darkly.

“He’s right,” Ember agreed. “One kingdom enslaved our people, the other pressed us into their ranks to fight their Outlanders’ War.”

“That was a long time ago,” Sunset said. “The world has changed since then.”

“That’s right,” Ruby agreed. “The kingdoms are different places now. Atlas and Mistral are not the same kingdoms that enslaved the faunus so long. We have friends in both kingdoms, brave and honourable friends, and some of those friends know important people in their lands. They can help Sunset get a good deal for us.”

“I agree with your approach, but are you sure about your choice of ambassador?” Sunset asked. “I’m still a…” She trailed off, not really wanting to reveal to Ember and Prince Rutherford that she might still be considered a criminal in Atlas and Mistral. “Are you sure you don’t want to make Cardin your ambassador?”

“Cardin will be going with you, so he can help you out,” Ruby said. “But you’re the one I trust, and let’s face it, you couldn’t be a part of any group without making yourself in charge of it.”

Sunset let out a guffaw of laughter. “Okay, that’s a fair point.”

“If I can settle everything here, then I’ll come and see you in Mistral,” Ruby said. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because-”

“Because a queen’s visit will carry more weight than an ambassador of my providence; don’t worry, I understand,” Sunset said. Atlas was one thing – with Blake and Rainbow Dash’s help, she ought to be able to get a word in edgeways with General Ironwood – but with Mistral… who knew what Pyrrha’s status was? She wasn’t exactly the sort to court power or status. Knowing Pyrrha, she was probably enrolled in Haven by now, trying to keep her head down as a perfectly ordinary student.

“And also,” Ruby said, “because I don’t want this to be goodbye, not forever.”

“No,” Sunset agreed. “No, it won’t be.” If Ruby didn’t make it to Mistral, then she could always come back to Freeport. It was not goodbye.

But it was… it was an ending, even if only of a sort.

Ruby Rose was no longer her partner. Ruby… Ruby was a queen.

Ember knelt. “Hail, Ruby Queen,” she said. “Long may you reign.”

“Hail, Ruby Queen,” Sunset echoed. “Long may you reign.”

To Wear A Crown

To Wear a Crown

“The queen?” Torchwick repeated. “They want to make you their queen?”

Sunset leaned forwards heavily. “You got a problem with that, Torchwick?”

The entire company – those of them that remained after Jack’s death and Sami’s defection – sat in the dining hall of what remained of the Tower of the Sun. Ruby, by right, sat at the head of the table, with Sunset sitting at her right hand and her father standing over her with a dazed look on his face as though he’d just been punched in the face by a beringel.

He could have received worse news than that his daughter was going to be acclaimed a queen, but Sunset could understand his shock.

Especially since the place that was going to acclaim her queen was not exactly well known to them, and not everything that they knew inspired trust.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Sunset and Dawn were both dead and the most powerful people remaining in Freeport were Prince Rutherford and Ember, there was no way that Sunset would have let Ruby stay here, responsibility or no.

She had a measure of trust for the chieftains of the two clans that she did not share with many others here.

That didn’t mean, however, that Torchwick was allowed to just mock the idea.

Torchwick smirked. “No, I don’t have a problem – it’s their town, after all, and their lives; if they want to hand both of those over to Little Red here, then it’s no skin off my patootie – I just think it’s kind of stupid, that’s all.”

“Why?” Sunset demanded. “Ruby’s brave and kind and smart-”

“Sure she is,” Torchwick agreed, and managed to sound sincere about it. “But that’s not why they want to stick a crown on her head, is it?” He leaned back in his seat. “I’m just saying, the ability to shoot laser beams out of your eyes is no basis for a system of government.”

Neo signed something.

Torchwick glanced at her. “Okay, you’ve got a point there, kid.”

“What did she say?” Sunset asked.

“She reminded me that a bunch of chumps voting for whoever promises the biggest payday isn’t a great way to run a country either,” Torchwick said.

“Indeed,” Sunset concurred. “If nothing else, Freeport will have a brave ruler; that’s more than most kingdoms can say, or could throughout their history.”

“Yeah, but even so,” Cardin said from down the table; he sat on Cinder’s left, with Cinder in turn sitting to the left of Sunset. “A new queen? Wasn’t the old one bad enough?” He blinked as he realised what he’d said. “I mean, not that Ruby is going to be trouble; I just mean that, well, you know, it didn’t work out so great having some outsider stroll in and declare herself to be in charge.”

“Ruby isn’t the Sun Queen,” Sunset declared. “She isn’t strolling anywhere, and she isn’t declaring herself anything; she has been offered a crown and has accepted it.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Cinder murmured.

Sunset winced. She looked at Ruby, bowing her head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

“Sunset,” Ruby said sharply. “Don’t.”

Sunset looked up and into Ruby’s eyes. “Yes,” she said firmly. “You are a queen now-”

“I haven’t been crowned yet; it’s not official.”

“As the body cannot survive without a head, so too the body politic cannot survive without a crowned head to sit atop it,” Sunset insisted. “You are the Queen of Freeport, and the crown is not like the hood of your crimson cape; even when you take it off, yet still it sits upon your head, now and forevermore.”

“You’re making me feel really great about this decision,” Ruby muttered with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

“Which means that I must show you the respect due to your rank and exalted status,” Sunset concluded. “We all should.”

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Why you, why here?”

“Because if you allow some to escape showing you their obedience, then others will seek to avoid it also,” Sunset said. “If we will not bend the knee, then why should others?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be a queen like the Sun Queen.”

“So long as you don’t sacrifice your faithful servants to the envoys of Salem, I think you’ll step over that particular low bar,” Cinder murmured.

“You won’t,” Sunset assured her. “But you must be a queen of some kind.”

“Again, why?” Cardin demanded.

“Because if we hadn’t come here, then Freeport would have been fine,” Ruby said firmly. “If we hadn’t come, then neither would Tyrian; if we hadn’t come, then the Sun Queen wouldn’t have been so envious of Sunset’s magic, nor so afraid of Salem’s power; if we hadn’t come, then Sunsprite would still be alive, and Freeport would never have come under attack, and the clans might not be thinking of going their own way.”

“The Queen was a tyrant,” Cinder said. “And a snivelling coward and a fool to boot. Can these things be denied? Is this town and this land not better off without a queen who would sacrifice her own subjects to buy a little life for herself?”

“Yes,” Ruby replied. “But there won’t be a land – or a town – if someone doesn’t step in.”

“That doesn’t follow,” Cardin insisted. “Are these people so primitive-?”

“There is nothing primitive about monarchy,” Sunset declared.

“Then why have we moved past it?” Cardin replied.

“I don’t know; why have you lost your souls?” Sunset shot back at him. “You live in a society where honour is a distant memory; don’t be so quick to assume that just because you’ve turned your back upon kings makes you more advanced.”

“I think there’s something to be said for advancing past the need to put a crown on the head of a sixteen-year-old girl in order to stop the country from falling apart.”

“And I think there is something to be said for placing power in the hands of one who has the character to wield it wisely and well, and not just the person who can pull the wool over the eyes of the most credulous dupes by pandering to their worst instincts!” Sunset snapped.

“None of that matters!” Ruby cried. “It doesn’t matter what we think about the idea; the fact is that Freeport needs this.

“If someone saves a whole bunch of people from dying in a fire, then the fact that the person also killed someone else doesn’t change the fact that people's lives were saved. It doesn’t make the person who saved them good, but it doesn’t make saving lives bad. It’s the same with the Sun Queen: as bad as she was, she still brought peace to this land, and that peace is… it’s really important.” She paused, looking down at her small, pale hands where they rested upon the wooden table. “All my life, I wanted to be a huntress, not so that I could fight an immortal goddess or save the whole world or do anything huge and world-shaking, but so that I could save people. That’s what being a huntress is all about. That is my huntress way.”

“'Her might upholds the weak,'” Sunset whispered.

Ruby nodded. “Exactly. There are lives at stake. If I just walk away, then people will die. What kind of huntress would I be if I let that happen?” She sighed. “I always wanted to be like Olivia, riding – flying, I guess – from place to place, saving people, slaying monsters. But if I can save more lives by being King Edward instead, then… then I’ll do it. I’ll stay here, and be a queen.”

Sunset leaned back in her seat, a soft smile playing across her face. “Spoken like a true sovereign.”

“And what of our war?” Cinder asked, her voice soft and silky. “What of the struggle against Salem?”

Ruby got up, pushing back her chair so that it groaned against the stone floor. Her hands remained pressed against the wood of the table. “I don’t know if there’s much point in saving the world from Salem if every part of the world falls into bloodshed and chaos while our backs are turned.”

“What is the purpose of struggling to save a single small and, I must say, rather insignificant part of the world and ignoring the fact that there is someone who would like nothing better than to burn every last inch of it to ashes?” Cinder countered.

“Let me worry about Salem,” Sunset said.

Cinder glanced at her, her expression inquisitive but unrevealing. Her eyes smouldered but gave nothing away. But then again, wasn’t that always the case?

Ruby looked down at her hands before she looked at Cinder. “I can’t stop Salem,” she admitted, her voice soft and small and quiet. “My mother couldn’t stop her, and I can’t stop her either. My eyes don’t give me that power. And maybe that means that she can’t be stopped. Maybe Sunset can’t stop her either.” She glanced at Sunset, with an apologetic smile fleeting across her face. “And maybe one day, she’ll come to Freeport and break down the gates and kill me. But until then… until then, then so long as there is a place on Remnant that is green and growing, so long as there is a place where people live in happiness, so long as there is a place where people still smile and laugh, where they can still have the pleasure of smelling a flower, watching a sunset, eating a well-prepared meal, then… then she hasn’t won yet.”

“And she will not,” Sunset said, rising from her seat to draw her sword, Soteria. She knelt at Ruby’s feet, the tip of the black sword resting upon the stone floor, the ornate pommel touching her forehead as she bowed her head to the new Queen of Estmorland. “I swear to you, upon this sword so venerable and steeped in honour, I swear to you I shall not let her triumph; while there is life in me, I will not suffer it. Freeport will not fall, nor our friends neither.”

She felt a hand upon her head: Ruby’s hand, her fingers in Sunset’s fiery hair.

“I would have gone with you to the end,” Ruby whispered.

Sunset looked up into her face and smiled. “And I would have welcomed you along every step, Majesty, but, since fate denies us this, accept my oath to serve you well in all my offices… and to go forward in all my beliefs and prove to you that you are not mistaken in yours, or in me. I will be true to you and to the values of Beacon and to all that a huntress ought to be. That is my pledge to you, my partner… my sister… my queen.” She began to blink rapidly; she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, and she had to look back down again lest Ruby saw. Yes, it was a good thing that Ruby was doing, a wise and noble thing, a queenly thing, but all the same… that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Parting might be sweet sorrow, but right now, the sorrow felt far greater than the sweetness.

“You have no idea how ridiculous you look, do you?” Cardin asked. “I mean it’s 2122, for crying out loud!”

“So it is a year,” Cinder replied. “A date upon a calendar, an arbitrary number placed upon an equally arbitrary moment of time. A moment in the life of Remnant, signifying… nothing at all, what of it?”

“Just because these people are backwards doesn’t mean we have to act like it,” Cardin said.

Cinder smirked. “Sunset’s been acting like this since I met her.”

“Anyway, just because their ways are not ours doesn’t make them backward,” Lyra said. Her fingers, lithe and delicate, strummed gently upon her harp. “At least, it doesn’t make them wrong.” She strummed once more, the sweet sound filling the dining hall. “Personally, I think it’s kind of wonderful. A real, genuine, honest to goodness fairy tale happening right before our eyes.”

Cardin snorted. “And she lived happily ever after?”

Lyra shrugged. “Didn’t Sunset just swear it would be so? Oaths made in love cannot be broken; everyone knows that.”

“So,” Bon Bon began, stopping as a wince of pain escaped her. She was out of her armour now, dressed in a plain tunic and trousers acquired from somewhere in the tower; her torso had been bandaged around the wound that Sami had dealt her, but it had not healed completely, at least not yet. She took a moment to catch her breath, even as Lyra took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “So, what does this mean? For the rest of us?”

Sunset rose to her feet, sheathing Soteria once more as she did. “It means,” she said, “that we will be splitting up. Cinder, Cardin, I would like for you to come with me to Anima, where Professor Ozpin has need of us, and Jaune and Pyrrha may be able to render aid or else require our help just as much as the professor does. The rest of you…” She swept her gaze over them: Torchwick, Neo, Lyra, Bon Bon. The position of Taiyang went without saying. “The rest of you, I should like to stay here, with Ruby, in Freeport, to serve her and… to protect her.”

"'Protect her'?" Lyra asked, her brow furrowing. "You… you do remember that you're talking to us, right?"

"I remember there aren't many people I trust around here, and you… are not my first choices, but you're the only choices available at the moment."

"You know, I'm kind of glad to hear that we're not your first choices," Lyra murmured. "It means that you haven't completely lost it."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Torchwick said. "What makes you think that we want to stay here?"

Sunset folded her arms. "How many times have you been in prison, Torchwick?"

Torchwick was silent for a moment. "Five stretches," he said, "Including my term on board that Atlesian airship and the time after that when I got caught."

"You never thought about going straight?"

"I always went straight," Torchwick replied. "Straight back into crime," he added with a chuckle.

"You've got a chance to make a difference this time," Sunset declared. "To be different. This is a new land, and you can be a new man in this new land. What else are you going to do, risk your life with me fighting against Salem? Do you have a sudden hankering to be a hero? We both know that's not who you are, especially when you've got Neo to think about. So do you want to slink back to Vale and back to a life of crime, or do you want to be the Royal Treasurer of Freeport and get this kingdom up on its feet financially?"

Torchwick's eyes bulged visibly. "'Treasurer'?" he gasped. "You… did you just say 'Treasurer'?"

Ruby nodded. "Me and Sunset talked about this, and there's nobody better that we could think of than you."

As much to the point, there was no other job that they could agree he could be trusted with. Roman Torchwick was not a saint, and he could be relied upon to be corrupt in whatever role or office was given to him, so it was a matter of picking the job that would allow him the least scope to do harm with his corruption. If he was put in charge of the law, he would sell pardons, or else lock up those whose possessions he coveted; if he were put in charge of the Rangers, he would probably run a protection racket over the outlying settlements. As Treasurer, he would, no doubt, keep as much of the wealth that passed through his hands as he dared, but so long as the kingdom didn't actively run out of money due to his malfeasance, it was probably the safest place to put him.

Whatever his faults – and he had plenty of them to be sure – he was a smart man, and good in a fight, and a born survivor. Ruby needed someone like that at her right hand, someone who could smell the wind changing.

Plus, Neo was ridiculously handy in a fight for someone so young, and Ruby could use a bodyguard too.

Torchwick was silent, his eyes flickering between Ruby and Sunset like a pendulum swinging back and forth. He looked at Neo, who rapidly signed something to him.

Torchwick laughed. "I… gods, Red, you know how to keep me guessing, don't you? Sheesh, I don't know whether you're the sucker or I am."

"Do you want the job?"

"Do I want to swank around with a fancy title and everyone treating me like a genuine big shot? Yes! I want the job!" Torchwick said. "So… do I have to bow or something?"

Ruby chuckled. "Not right now; maybe after the coronation."

Neo beamed as she leapt up onto the dining table, her feet tapping upon the wood as she curtsied perfectly to Ruby, sweeping her arms out on either side of her.

Ruby covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. "Thank you, Neo."

"So do we get fancy titles too?" Lyra asked.

Everyone looked at her.

"Or, you know, something a little less nakedly self-interested, maybe," Lyra muttered, shrinking downwards into her seat.

"Not right now," Ruby admitted. "But maybe later; there's a lot of stuff that I still haven't figured out yet."

"Titles or no," Sunset said, "what do you think?"

"Do we have a choice?" Bon Bon asked, her voice heavy with breathlessness.

"You always have a choice," Sunset replied. "We all do."

Bon Bon looked at Lyra.

"Don't look at me like that; this is our choice," Lyra insisted.

Bon Bon shook her head. "My choices helped get us into this mess. This time, you decide."

Lyra pouted. "That's not fair. Then it will be my fault if I pick the wrong thing!"

"Then choose wisely," Bon Bon said, a slight smile on her face.

"It's not like I don't try," Lyra replied, looking away from Bon Bon. She glanced down at the harp in her hands, her fingers hovering above the strings. "I… I've always been a better musician than a huntress," she said. "If I'd recognised that earlier, then… I'm not saying things would have been better, but they probably would have been better for me." Her fingers plucked the strings. "There was a girl… there was a girl… 'fair as summer' sounds like a bad pun in your case." She put the harp down on the table. "But I'll get it. I shall stay here and be the songstress of the court, and I shall compose the ballad of Ruby Rose, the girl from Patch with a pure heart who became a queen in a far-off land."

"And I'll stay too," Bon Bon said quietly. "And try not to mess everything up this time."

"Thank you," Ruby said. "All of you. I know that Sunset has to go, but… I know that this won't be easy, and I'm glad that I won't be… alone, here."

I'm glad too, Sunset thought. None of these four were her first choice, or even her second or third… but they were, she had to admit, far better than nothing.

Torchwick grinned as he tipped his hat. "So… long live the queen, I guess."

Cinder smirked. "Long live the queen indeed."

"Long live the queen!" Lyra cried.

"Are you people kidding me?" Cardin demanded.

Ruby hesitated outside the door. She stared at it, the yellow door that led into her grandfather’s dwelling.

The place where her grandfather alone now lived, with Sunsprite being gone.

I will have a crown, and Sunsprite has a grave. How is that fair?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. But it seemed to be the lot of their family, a lot that Ruby would have willingly embraced until last night.

Embraced it… and hated it in equal measure. Now, she only hated it and cursed the name of Salem that had wrought such ill-fortune upon her family.

She stood before the yellow door and made no move to enter.

She felt her father’s hand upon her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this,” Taiyang told her.

“Who else will, if I don’t?” Ruby murmured.

“I could do it,” Taiyang offered.

Ruby looked up at him. “Thanks for offering,” she murmured. “But… no. I’m his granddaughter; I should tell him.”

“You’re just a kid; you don’t have to-”

“I’m also a queen now,” Ruby replied. “How am I supposed to rule a whole kingdom if I can’t break the bad news to my own grandfather?”

Her father’s face was solemn, his eyes watered. “You’ve grown up too damn fast, you know that?” he said, his voice hoarse. “You… you and Yang both, I let you grow up much too fast.”

“You let us follow our dreams,” Ruby said. She paused. “And honestly, I don’t think you could have stopped us if you wanted to.”

Taiyang snorted. “No,” he admitted. “No, I couldn’t have. You have too much of your mother in you, and so did your sister.”

Ruby didn’t need to ask him which mother he meant; Yang only had one mother, and if she had been too quick to rush into danger, that certainly wasn’t something she’d inherited from Raven Branwen.

She smiled, only slightly and very briefly. “Thanks, Dad.” She turned away, to the door once more. She could do this. She had to do this.

It was her responsibility.

Ruby produced the key. She had taken it from… from Sunsprite’s body. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind. Someone had to take care of their grandfather, after all.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open; it swung open silently, revealing the dark and sparsely furnished space.

“Grandfather?” Ruby called as she stepped inside, with her father half a step behind her.

“Ruby?” Grandfather replied, his voice frail and weak. “Ruby, is that you?”

“Yes,” Ruby said quickly. “Yes, it’s me, Grandfather.” She walked quickly, almost running, across the room until she stood at his bedside, looking down upon the blind old man. “I’m right here.”

Grandfather wheezed as, with one hand, he reached out, fumbling his way towards her. “Ruby…”

Ruby took his hands inside her own, squeezing it gently. “Yes. It’s me.”

“And Sunsprite?” Grandfather asked. “Is Sunsprite with you? I don’t hear her. Does duty keep her away?”

Ruby closed her eyes. Her whole body shook.

“You’re trembling,” Grandfather murmured.

“Yes,” Ruby admitted. “Yes, I am. Grandfather, I… Sunsprite, she… Sunsprite is… she fell in battle.”

“No!” Grandfather cried. His voice shook, and his hand would have fallen away if Ruby had not been holding onto it. “No,” he repeated, shaking his head fitfully, desperately. “Please, please Ruby, tell me it is not so!”

“I wish I could,” Ruby whispered.

Tears began to spring from her grandfather’s rheumy eyes. “How?” he asked, his frail and aged body wracked by sobs. “How did she fall?”

Ruby took a deep breath. She had thought long and hard about what to tell her grandfather about Sunsprite’s death and decided that a lie might bring more comfort than the truth. “The grimm attacked the city last night,” she said. “Did you hear the bells ringing?”

“Yes,” Grandfather whispered. “Yes, they woke me, but… I thought perhaps that I had dreamed them.”

“This isn’t a dream,” Ruby murmured. “I wish it were, but… but it’s not. The grimm attacked; we beat them back, but… Sunsprite died, defending Freeport from its enemies.”

“I… I see,” Grandfather said. “Then she died as she would have wished, as a Silver-Eyed Warrior and a Rose. That is the coldest of comforts to me, but it is better than no comfort at all.”

“I’m so sorry, Grandfather,” Ruby said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“How is this my fate?” he demanded. “How is it that I am doomed to see my wife, my daughters, and now my granddaughter die before me, and before their time, while I wither in the twilight of my years, ailing and abandoned, betrayed by my body, helpless, useless? Why is it that I live on, even as I lose everything?”

“You haven’t lost everything!” Ruby insisted. “I’m right here, and I… I’m going to stay with you, in Sunsprite’s place. The… the Sun Queen died last night as well,” she added, leaving it possible for the old man to assume that she, too, had died in the battle. “And I have… I have been offered the crown in her place, as a Silver-Eyed Warrior.”

“The crown?” Grandfather repeated. “You have been offered the crown?”

“Yes,” Ruby said softly. “And I have accepted it. I won’t let this land that Sunsprite fought for fall into chaos. I won’t let her death be in vain.”

Grandfather was silent for a moment. “You are a brave girl,” he said. “You have your mother’s courage.”

“Thank you,” Ruby said, so softly he might not have been able to hear it. But did she have wisdom? Did she have the wisdom necessary to do right by Freeport?

That… that was a question with a far more uncertain answer.

Sunset, I know that you’re okay because Princess Luna told us so – that’s me and Princess Celestia, for reference, who was worried enough to come down here to consult with me about what we could do to help you – but if you could please write back, that would be really great.

There were a few other such messages filling up one page of the book, descending downwards to extend onto the next sheet in the volume. Sunset was hit with a pang of guilt which no amount of special pleading – she had been busy, but not so busy that she couldn’t have jotted down a couple of lines to the effect of ‘I’m fine, but really busy; I’ll write more later.’ – could assuage. She should not have relied upon Princess Luna to be the messenger of her escape. She was the Princess of the Night, not the mailmare.

Sunset sat in the dining hall, alone; the others had all gone. Ruby and Cinder were working upon Ruby’s coronation outfit, taking stock of what there was in hand within the tower’s stores. The two of them working together, Cinder and Ruby, who could ever have imagined such a thing? It put a smile upon her face, a smile that was only slightly diminished by the regret that they couldn’t have started working together thus much sooner.

Everyone but Cardin was moving their stuff out of the Tower of the Moon and into the Tower of the Sun; Cardin himself was packing for their departure, although Sunset hadn’t yet talked to him about just where they would be departing too. She would have to tell him soon, else he would think they were getting a boat to Anima.

Possibly they ought to get a boat to Anima; Ruby could command a ship to carry them across the narrow sea. It would be simpler, in every respect, and airships aside, it might still be quicker than the journey via Atlas.

But she wanted to go home. Yes, she had called Beacon her home when it still stood, but Beacon was gone, and it was difficult to think of any place else in Remnant that felt like home to her. The house of Nikos came closest, but even then, that was Pyrrha’s place where she had been an honoured guest; it was welcoming, yes, and of all the places in Remnant, she probably liked Mistral best, but only because it reminded her of the place that had truly been home to her for her early years. She loved Mistral because it was a shadow of Canterlot, but that didn’t change the fact that Canterlot was her first love, the first home that she had known and, in all respects save for the presence of her friends, the best home too.

She wanted to go back there. She wanted to see the gleaming spires again, she wanted to stand upon the marble balconies and feel the wind blowing through her mane, she wanted to see the pegasi move the clouds above and fashion them into pleasing shapes, she wanted…

She wanted to see Princess Celestia again, to feel her wings enfold her, to feel the princess’ cheek upon her neck as she nuzzled her little sunbeam; she wanted to hear her voice with her own ears, not imagine it through the conduit of a page.

She wanted to go home, if only for a little while. Had she not earned that right? After all that she had done, all that she had suffered, after all the mud and blood through which she had slogged: the Breach, the Battle of Vale, all of their misadventures in Freeport, did she not deserve this little blessing?

Only one pony could really answer that.

Sunset picked up her pen.

Sorry, Twilight. I won’t bother trying to come up with an excuse, I shouldn’t have left you worrying like this.

Oh, thank goodness! It’s about time!

I said I was sorry.

You did, but I hope that you can forgive us our excess of concern, Sunset, given what we know of what has befallen you lately.

Sunset hesitated. The pen shook in her hand. I apologise to you as well, Princess. If I may ask, how much did Princess Luna tell you?

Little enough. She told me that it was your story to tell, not hers, and that she would not betray your confidence without your leave.

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment, tightening her grip upon the pen between her fingers. Thank you, Princess Luna. Thank your sister for me, Princess Celestia, it is very good of her to be so understanding. The truth is that

The truth is…what? The truth is that I don’t want to think about it? That I’d rather forget what happened? The truth is that I never want to speak of it again? Nobody had asked her yet, what had happened to her; Ruby hadn’t asked, and neither had Cinder. She suspected they would; she would have preferred it if they just didn’t care- No. No, that was a lie that she could not keep up; she would not have preferred it if they didn’t care, but at the same time, that didn’t mean that she actually wanted them to bring the subject up. What she wanted was… immaterial, really; they would ask, or they would not. She suspected that they were waiting for the right moment to bring the subject up.

Princess Celestia was being more direct, but then, the irregular nature of her communication with Sunset wasn’t leaving her much choice.

The truth is that I’d rather talk about this pony to pony, rather than like this. It’s difficult; a little distance might help.

There was a moment of delay before Princess Celestia responded. I understand your desire to put a little time between you and your ordeal, and although I must confess that you are doing very little to assuage my nerves, Sunset, my nerves are of less concern to me than your wellbeing. Very well, we will discuss these things another time. But when you say pony to pony, does that mean that you still wish to return to Equestia?

I see that Twilight mentioned that.

Did you expect that I just wasn’t going to bring it up?

You’re right, I don’t know why this is coming as a surprise to me. Yes, Princess – Princess Celestia, that is – I do wish to return, at least for a visit. There are a few things that I can tell you about what has happened recently, and I hope that you will find some of it to be good news. Twilight, you’ll be gratified to hear that I’ve destroyed the rings of dark magic that you helped me make.

That would be better news to me if either of my students had informed me that they were dabbling in dark magic to begin with.

Sunset blinked. Twilight, have I just gotten you into a load of trouble?

I think you might have, yes.

In Twilight’s defence, Princess, I asked her not to tell you. I was afraid that you would

Disapprove? Counsel you against such foolishness? Forbid Twilight to assist you in your dangerous endeavour?

Sunset cringed. All of the above, Princess, yes.

Indeed I would. What in Equestria possessed you to adopt such a course?

I needed power, or at least, I thought I did.

And I believed that you had grown beyond such things and learned the hollowness that comes from the blind pursuit of power for its own sake.

Princess Celestia, if you love me, you will let me explain before you judge me too harshly for my desires or Twilight for her assistance. It was not for its own sake that I sought greater power, but for the protection of my dear friends. We were under attack by creatures of great power, monsters stronger than any grimm I have ever encountered before, too strong for me. I lost a companion on the road to their assaults, and I was terrified of losing more. And so I asked Twilight to help become stronger, swiftly.

Oh, Sunset

I can hear you sighing on the other side of the page, Princess.

How can I not sigh when I wish you had paid more attention to the lessons I tried to teach you before you left? You sought power to protect your friends; have you not yet learned that trusting your friends and standing with them would have given you all the power that you required and more?

Sunset could not halt a slight chuckle on its way past her lips. I don’t know whether it helps my case to point this out or not, but if I had learned such lessons at your hooves, I would probably not have come to Remnant in the first place. However, I hope it pleases you to hear that I have learned the lesson now, although I must confess that it was nearly too late.

The dark magic nearly overthrew you, did it not?

It did. It would have, but for Ruby.

Did Ruby remember who you were?

Eventually.

Do you know how it was that everyone was made to forget you in the first place?

A magic stone. I’m afraid I don’t know any more than that. I destroyed it before I could learn more.

Nevertheless, the vague description stirs something in my memory. I fear that it may have been Equestrian in origin. I know it might be considered immaterial now, but I will look into it when we return to Canterlot, if only to satisfy my own curiosity.

Can’t your other self give you some answers?

Sunset hesitated for several long moments; this was a hard thing to admit to Princess Celestia, or even to Princess Twilight, and yet she would admit it. She had to. There was no getting around it, and even if there had been, she had no desire to lie to them. I killed her and her friend, in the grip of dark magic.

The time dragged on until she received a response in Princess Celestia’s elegant script. I see. I wish that I could claim to be more surprised, but as violent as your world is, I cannot be; and, to be frank, this is what comes of dealing with dark magic.

I am not proud of the fact. But equally, I cannot take it back.

No. No, you cannot; you will have to bear it, all your days.

I know, and so be it. It is not the first life to hang about my shoulders, and although I hope it will be the last, I cannot guarantee it. All I can say is that it might not have been the last life I took that height if it hadn’t been for Ruby. She recalled me to myself. We had a chance to communicate, and now I think we understand each other much better, see one another much more clearly than we did, really, since the Battle of Vale, or since she found out what I did at the Breach. I have destroyed the rings; I’d like to say that I don’t need them any more, but the truth is that I don’t trust myself with them any more. And, Princess, you were right; when Ruby and I stood together, we were able to vanquish the army of grimm that descended on Freeport with only the power that was within us and our bond.

I am glad to hear it. No, I am more than glad, I am delighted to hear it, and the only thing that tempers my delight is my displeasure at learning so late what it is that I have to be disappointed about.

Your disappointment is with me and me alone.

No, Sunset, I think it is with both of you.

Ahem. If I might interrupt for just one moment, what about Robyn Hill?

Safe and sound. I will bring her home with me when I return. If I may return?

Do you doubt it? You will always be welcome in Equestria, little sunbeam. Always and without question. My only regret is that you will not be coming home for good.

Believe me, part of me would like nothing better, but my friends require my aid, and I have obligations here. I have sworn that I will protect Professor Ozpin, and sworn also that I will defeat Salem, or at the very least that I will ensure she does not prevail.

Sunset considered that it was an advantage of the Equestrian aversion to killing that neither Twilight nor Princess Celestia questioned her on how she planned to defeat an immortal adversary. They took it for granted that there would be a way, probably because in Equestria, there would always be such a way, the Elements of Harmony for example. Would that their like existed in Remnant also, then all of this would be so much easier.

As it was, she was grateful not to have to admit that she didn’t have a plan just yet.

You’ve set yourself a tall order.

I know. And yet, at the same time, it all feels like the very least that I could do.

I will not stand in the way of your solemn obligations. I will only say that I look forward to seeing you again and to meeting Ruby.

Sunset frowned. I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Ruby will not be coming with me.

Oh, no. Did something happen to her?

No. At least, not like that. Ruby has been offered the crown of Freeport, in place of my departed double, and she has accepted it for the sake of this town and this land, to avoid the chaos that would ensue with an empty throne, a throne left empty by the chaos we brought with us. Most of our company will be remaining to assist her in that endeavour. Only Cinder and Cardin will be coming with me to Equestria and hence through the mirror to Atlas.

I see. I wish her good fortune, for it is a hard road that she has chosen. How do you feel?

I feel, in this, more than I would say, and so I shall nought but that I am proud of her. She is being both brave and noble.

The door opened, and Ruby came in. She stopped, looking down the long wooden table to where Sunset sat.

Sunset started to get up. “Ma-”

“Don’t,” Ruby whispered. “Please, I know you say it’s important, but… don’t. Not when it’s just us, okay?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment before she allowed herself to sit back down again. “Very well,” she said softly. “Not when it’s just us.”

“Are you writing to Twilight?”

“More to Celestia than Twilight.”

Ruby nodded. “Can I… can I talk to them?”

Sunset smiled, and this time, she did get up out of her seat. “Of course you can,” she said. “Sit down. I think they’ll both be glad to hear from you.”

Ruby sat down in the seat that Sunset had vacated. She turned the page, not wishing to pry into what Sunset had just said. She glanced up at Sunset, who hovered nearby, casting a shadow over the dining hall table.

Sunset frowned. "I… I'll leave you to it," she said, turning away and walking from the hall. The tread of her boots was heavy upon the wooden floor.

Ruby watched her go until she was out of sight; only then did she pick up the pen that Sunset had set down.

Princess Celestia. A name that Ruby knew but little, and yet at the same time knew enough: Sunset's teacher, the woman – okay, not woman, but she knew what she meant – who had raised Sunset, the ruler of the land of Equestria that Sunset had come from. It was that last, more than anything else, that made Ruby want to speak to her. To say that there weren't many people she could go to for advice about this was an understatement. Slowly, cautiously, she began to write. Hello, it's Ruby here; I'm sorry, but I wanted to speak to you, and so I asked Sunset if I could interrupt.

Obviously, Sunset didn't mind or she would have said no. Hello, Ruby.

It is a pleasure and an honour to finally get the chance to talk to you, Ruby Rose. My name is Princess Celestia, and Sunset has told me so much about you.

Ruby found herself chuckling nervously. I'm honoured, Princess Celestia, but you don't need to pretend. There's no reason someone like you should be honoured to speak to someone like me. I'm just

You are Sunset's friend; I would say that that was enough for me, but from what I have just heard, it is not so. Sunset tells me that they will set a crown upon your head?

Yes. Yes, they will. They asked me to become their queen, and I agreed to it. She paused. Ruby: I don't know if I'm doing the right thing.

Is this what you want, Ruby Rose?

No. No, it isn't. It was never what I wanted.

That is good to hear, though it may seem perverse to say so. Oftentimes, those who seek the crown do not deserve it, while those who most deserve to wear a crown desire it not. I would count Sunset amongst the former group when I knew her.

Ruby found a faint smile spreading across her face. And she's the opposite now. To be honest, she would be a better queen for Freeport than I will, but she won't break her promise to find Professor Ozpin.

Her sense of duty does her credit, although I must confess I am sorry that she will be without your company upon the road from now on. Thank you for being a good friend to her.

I haven't, not really, not for a while. I judged her, I looked down on her, I threw her aside

You were filled with grief, and in your grief, you were not yourself. There is no shame in that.

Even though I hurt Sunset?

Ruby, I'm called the Princess of Friendship, but even I hurt my friends sometimes, by saying or doing the wrong thing; it doesn't make you a bad friend.

Maybe not, but I wish that I had more time to make it up to her. As it is, although I mean to go to Mistral as soon as I've settled everything here, I don't know how long that will take or when it will be. I have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm not sure anyone ever does.

Indeed, my sister Luna and I had a great deal to learn when we came to the thrones of Equestria. Although I fear that if your experience is at all like ours, you will not have much time in which to learn.

Did you want to rule Equestria?

No. It was the last thing that I wanted.

What would you have rather done, if you don't mind me asking?

When you have lived as long as I have, you find that it is sometimes difficult to remember what you actually thought in times long ago, as opposed to what you feel with hindsight you ought to have thought. In my youth, I know that I was greatly enamoured with the theatre and with the ponies who performed in it, so it wouldn't surprise me to go back in time and discover that I would rather have been an actress than a princess. With a little more maturity, I can say that would not have been the best use of my talents. I hope that I have been a good ruler to my little ponies, but teaching is my true passion and has been for most of my life. As I told Professor Ozpin once, I could envisage one day setting my crown aside, but I could never see myself giving up teaching; I enjoy everything about it far too much for that.

Then why did you take the crown?

We could ask you the same question, Ruby.

Because if someone doesn't, then the whole kingdom will just fall apart, and I'm afraid that the clans will go right back to fighting one another again. And I don't want that. They're good people, and they deserve to live in peace, and I think they can if only someone shows them the way. And that someone has to be me because I have the silver eyes that can defeat the grimm.

It is a necessity, then, that makes you accept this burden?

Was it the same with you?

In a manner of speaking. Fortunately, the pony tribes had already learned the value of cooperation by the time that I came to power, but so long as they remained divided, there was a risk that they might fall to fighting amongst themselves again as they had done before. Although I must confess that, like you, my sister and I were offered the rule of the realm more because of our magical gifts than our wisdom or experience. But the land had been shattered by a great evil, an evil that only we had the power to defeat. The power to act conferred upon us the responsibility to act.

Any advice for a beginner?

I was very fortunate to have the guidance of a wise old unicorn when I first came to the throne; until his disappearance, he taught and guided Luna and myself through many uncertain situations. Though I am far away, I offer my services to you as that wise old unicorn once served me. If you wish, I will instruct Sunset in how to create a set of linked books, like the pair that we are using now, so that we may keep in contact even when Sunset has departed, and you may ask my counsel if you feel that you have need of it.

Really? That's so incredibly kind of you; I mean you don't even know me.

I know everything about you that I need to know: that you are in need of guidance. For starters, however, my first piece of advice to you is not to worry too much; although this may not be the path you wished to choose in life, it is by no means unrewarding. Although I still do not consider it my vocation, when I look down from the balcony and see what good and happy lives my little ponies live, I feel a little glow of pride and satisfaction at being in some small part responsible for that. You must keep that in mind, Ruby; there will always be so much that you can regret, but always remember to focus on your accomplishments and the good that you have done in the world. My second piece of advice is to surround yourself with those whose judgement you trust and listen carefully to their advice. I do not say that you should always let their counsel overrule your judgement, but you should always give it weighty consideration. My third piece of advice may seem to contradict the second, but it is no less true in my experience. I am afraid you must prepare yourself to be distanced from those around you, whether you wish to be or not. They will only ever see the crown, whether it is on your head or not.

Sunset said something similar. I hope that I can learn to do this right.

You've got a good heart, Ruby. That's always a good place to start from.

You may ask for my advice whenever you are in need of it, but more than any other advice that I could give you remember this: you are not alone. Even when Sunset leaves, you will not be alone. Remember that, and remember why you ascended the throne in the first place, and I have no doubt that you will do very well.

"Did you really mean that, Princess?" Twilight asked, looking up at her mentor. "About giving up your crown, I mean?"

"Twilight," Princess Celestia murmured reproachfully. "Do you really believe I would lie to Ruby?"

"No, of course not," Twilight murmured. "But… I don't know, I… I just can't imagine Equestria without you."

Princess Celestia laughed lightly. "The sun and moon may be eternal, Twilight, but that is no reason why I must be. Certainly, it does not hold that I should be. It may be that, one day, another shall come to take my place and lead Equestria into an age more golden than I could ever have dreamed of, let alone accomplished."

Twilight snorted.

Princess Celestia raised one inquisitive eyebrow. "You doubt it?"

"I'm sorry," Twilight said hastily. "It's just… I suppose I have a hard time picturing anyone able to replace you."

Princess Celestia smiled. "Don't be so quick to discount the possibility, Twilight; as Ruby has just discovered, and you have experienced yourself, our destinies are rarely clear to us even as we walk towards them. My appointed successor may be closer than you think."

The Queen of Roses

The Queen of Roses

Sunset blinked. She looked again at the sheet of parchment in her hand. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

She turned the parchment upside down. It didn’t help at all, so she turned it right-way up again and took another look. It was the same as it had been the last time she looked, but… this couldn’t be right, could it?

How on Remnant… what were the odds of this?

Sunset thought back to that day in the spa, one of many halcyon days that seemed so long ago now, to the idea that she had proposed to help Lady Nikos save face. Who would have thought it, eh? Certainly not Sunset Shimmer. It was enough to make her want to laugh aloud, but as this was a library, after all, she contented herself with a smile.

Footsteps echoed on the steps leading down into the cellar-like space beneath the tower. It turned out to be Cinder, preceded by her shadow on the wall from the lights up above. She descended and stopped at the sight of Sunset’s smiling face.

One eyebrow rose. “You’re in a better mood than I expected you would be.”

The smile faded from Sunset’s face. “Why should I be in a bad mood?”

Cinder’s eyebrow remained resolutely elevated as she walked towards Sunset. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

“Who says I’m pretending?” Sunset asked.

“I do,” Cinder declared. “Because I didn’t just meet you yesterday.”

Sunset let her hands – one of them still clutching the faded parchment – fall to her sides. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time that we’ve been separated. And what, did I think that we were going to be together forever? What am I, a six-year-old? Things end, that’s all, and we have to accept that and keep-”

Cinder reached out and placed a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she repeated. “You don’t have to be the good huntress with me; you don’t have to mouth the lies about moving forward.”

Sunset looked into Cinder’s eyes. “They’re not lies.”

“The pieties, then,” Cinder said. “You don’t have to pretend. I know how much Ruby means to you; even the most insufferable enthusiast for moving forward would allow you to be sad that this is ending.”

“Everything ends,” Sunset declared, shrugging off Cinder’s shoulder. “Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But new things always begin afterwards, and that’s always happy. I choose to be happy, for Ruby’s sake.” She paused. “Thank you,” she said, “for everything you did while I was… away.”

“I did my best,” Cinder murmured. “It wasn’t enough. Not without you.” She frowned. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“What they did to you?” Cinder said. “They must have done something because… I forgot about you, yes, we all forgot, but that’s only one half of it. Whether we remembered you or not, nothing could have kept you from coming to our aid… except something did.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. She didn’t want to talk about it, but… if anyone would understand what it was like to have your body invaded by a malign force that bent you to its will, then Cinder would.

“They took my body,” she murmured.

“What?” Cinder’s voice was as sharp as one of her blades of glass.

“They took my body,” Sunset repeated. “Dawn’s semblance, she… possessed me. Wore me like a suit.”

Cinder stared at her, eyes wide, her grip on Sunset’s shoulder tightening until it was almost painful. “If they were not already dead,” she hissed, “I would burn them to ashes.”

“Then I am glad they’re dead,” Sunset said. “You don’t need that upon your conscience.”

“So many black acts lie upon my conscience, so many innocent lives or near enough, what is the death of two guilty women on top of that?”

“Nothing,” Sunset murmured. “Everything.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “You cannot possibly be feeling right after such an ordeal.”

“I am, believe it or not, better than I was,” Sunset insisted. “I am… renewed, somewhat. I don’t… things have been made clear to me; things have been resolved. I can put my past behind me and-”

“Don’t say it,” Cinder said.

“You might not like it, but sometimes, we must do it.”

“Can you at least find another formulation to express it?” Cinder asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of Sunset’s lips. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m not okay. If I was okay… I shouldn’t be going home; that is the truth of it. The war will not wait for it, Professor Ozpin may not wait for it, but… I need it. I need to go home, I need to see it again, I need to see Princess Celestia again, I need… I need this.”

“Then the war will wait,” Cinder declared. “The world will wait if need be; it owes you that much. After everything that you have suffered, everything that you have sacrificed, I think that you deserve this small indulgence.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m quite curious to visit your home, the land of talking, pastel-coloured ponies. I want to see for myself how sickeningly sweet it is.”

Sunset snorted. “Which reminds me; at some point, I need to talk to Cardin about that. He doesn’t actually know what he’s letting himself in for yet.”

“Can I be there when you tell him?” Cinder asked.

Sunset sighed. “I should probably say no, but okay. In any event, what brings you down here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Cinder replied. “Where are we, anyway?”

“An archive, of sorts,” Sunset said. “Old documents going back to when this place was the farthest-flung outpost of the Kingdom of Vale.”

Cinder’s brow furrowed. “So, did something in these old documents tickle you, because you have little reason to smile else, if you’ll forgive me saying so.”

Sunset laughed nervously and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I think Jaune might be the heir to the throne of Vale.”

Cinder stared blankly at her. “Come again.”

“My reaction precisely, but look at this,” Sunset said, holding up the parchment in her hand. It was a picture of a sword: a long, straight sword with a familiar hilt. “What do you see?”

Cinder looked at it for a moment. “Crocea Mors.”

“Exactly,” Sunset said. “It’s Crocea Mors.”

“That’s what I said: it’s Crocea Mors.”

“No,” Sunset said. “You don’t understand; this is the Crocea Mors that was wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland and son of King Edward Farstrider, just as it says there.”

“‘A history of the blade Crocea Mors, the strength of my house and the bane of my enemies,’” Cinder read. “‘It was forged in the year 820 for Jaune, Duke of Westmorland, otherwise known as Jaune of Gaunt, fourth son of King Edward, the first of his name, known by men as the Farstrider. The blade was placed in Gaunt’s hand by Olivia, foremost of the King’s Knights Paladin, when she’… and you think this is the same sword?”

“At first, I thought that it was an act of homage,” Sunset said. “I thought that the Arc family had named their blade after the famous blade borne by the duke and his heirs, but look at the picture! They look exactly the same!”

“Possibly they did,” Cinder murmured. “Until you reforged Jaune’s sword.”

“Until your friend Mercury broke it, you mean?” Sunset replied.

“Either way,” Cinder said quickly, “it doesn’t look like the same sword any more.”

“That is unfortunate,” Sunset agreed.

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Unfortunate for what?”

“Unfortunate for proving that Jaune really is Jaune of Gaunt’s rightful heir,” Sunset said, “and heir to the throne of Vale.”

Cinder blinked. A little laugh escaped. “Sunset… this is a historical curiosity at best-”

“Why?” Sunset asked. “Pyrrha is heir to the throne of Mistral-”

“Pyrrha has more proof of her descent than a drawing of a sword.”

“Come on, embrace your inner romantic,” Sunset insisted.

“What would make you assume that I have an inner romantic?” Cinder asked.

“You defied four kingdoms and all the might in arms of Atlas,” Sunset reminded her. “You took a stand against all the most powerful people in Remnant; you set yourself as an enemy against the whole world and believed that you could toppled them all. What is that, if not the actions of a romantic?”

“I was not romantic,” Cinder corrected. “I was angry.”

“If you say so,” Sunset said, conceding without actually conceding, “but just think about it: wouldn’t it be something if the heirs to the thrones of Mistral and Vale were to wed? Two great kingdoms, two ancient dynasties-”

“Dynasties ruling nothing, we’re not talking about the marriage of a king and queen; all of this is irrelevant.”

“Not in Mistral,” Sunset said. “There is power in old blood; if I can find proof that Jaune is Valish royalty by descent from the kings of Vale, then a great many snobs will have to stop bellyaching and accept that he and Pyrrha will be wed.”

“I never got the impression that Pyrrha cared about his background.”

“She doesn’t, and even her mother stopped caring about such things, but this is about the city,” Sunset said. “This is about making their lives together easier in the days ahead. I’m going to see if I can find more evidence.”

“That will have to wait,” Cinder said. “The queen commands your presence.”

Sunset hesitated. “Was that strange to say?”

“Was it strange to hear?”

Sunset hesitated. “A little,” she admitted. “How is her coronation outfit going?”

“The queen does not wish to wear fur,” Cinder declared. “Which is awkward, because fur is most of what they seem to have in store around. Bear pelt, wolf pelt, beaver pelt, cougar pelt, and none of it of any use whatsoever.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” Sunset said.

“So will you,” Cinder replied.

“Hmm?”

“Defeating Salem?” Cinder reminded her. “Saving the world? That was quite a promise you made in there.”

“A promise I mean to keep,” Sunset vowed. “Though I… don’t know how, just yet.”

Cinder chuckled. “You’ll figure something out,” she said. “You always do.”

“I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“If Salem has a weakness, she did not tell me of it,” Cinder said. “I doubt that anyone knows of it but her.”

“Do you think she has a weakness?”

“I… I’m afraid that I have no idea,” Cinder confessed. “I’m not being much help, am I?”

“I can’t imagine doing this without you,” Sunset replied. Especially not now.

“You don’t have to,” Cinder said, taking Sunset’s hand in her own. “I’m with you, to whatever end.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer and more gentle. “'And all the rains that fell upon our house illumine now this many-coloured Arc.'”

“Hmm?”

“Richard the Second,” Cinder explained. “Sunset, surely you’ve not forgotten my debut?”

Sunset’s mouth opened just a little. “The opening speech from the play?”

Cinder smiled and placed one hand upon her heart. “'Now is the work of many years complete. The sun shines now on a united Vale. And all the rains the fell upon our house illumine now this many-coloured Arc.'”

“You delivered it better on stage,” Sunset remarked.

“I hardly had to act on stage; to all intents, I was Richard then,” Cinder declared. “I had exchanged a hunched back for a grimm inside my body, but I was no less deformed in form and soul. Now… his passions move me less; I have less sympathy for his condition, let alone his schemes. In any event, I didn’t bring it up so that you could critique my performance, but to remind you of that line: 'the many-coloured Arc.'”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’s a reference to the Arc family?”

“Why not?” Cinder asked. “Modern scholarship will tell you that it is a reference to a rainbow, known in Courtly Valish as an arc-en-ciel. Certainly, that is part of it, but an audience who still lived under the royal line might be presumed to have understood a reference that has been forgotten in the modern day.”

“Perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “But the family name wasn’t Arc in those days… but the crest.”

“The crest?”

“On the tower wall, there is an image of a shield with a single crescent upon it. Jaune has a shield with a double crescent… and the hilt of the blade thrust into the fasces, again, it looks like Jaune’s Crocea Mors.”

“An arc is a crescent,” Cinder pointed out. “So when Shakst’spur refers to the many-coloured arc, he is referring not only to the rainbow which follows a storm but also to the symbol of the triumphant royal family.”

“And when the Duke of Alexandria renounced his titles and retired, he might have changed his name to Arc to reference the old family crest… as well as barely changing said crest; he just added another arc onto it.”

Cinder chuckled. “Very audacious of him. I approve.”

Sunset let out a little gust of laughter herself. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe that the lie I came up with… it’s really true. Jaune Arc is the heir to the throne of Vale.”

“'The heir'?” Cinder asked. “Are there no other candidates?”

“The Great War pruned many branches of the family tree,” Sunset said. “And others… withered naturally. The Last King was hardly unique in dying without issue.” She shook her head. “Of course, a cryptic reference in a play is no more proof than a picture of a sword; in fact, it’s less convincing… but thank you for reminding me. I really feel as though I’m onto something here. I’ll have to do more research.”

“To save Jaune from the snobs of Mistral?” Cinder asked. “Let me tell you honestly: they’re not worth the effort.”

“To satisfy my curiosity,” Sunset declared. “I… I want to know now. I want to be sure that it’s real. I want to know if I accidentally hit on the truth in my search for a good lie.” She grinned. “I want to know if I had the heirs to two of the great kingdoms on my team all along.” She chuckled. “The rightful heirs to Mistral and Vale, and the future Queen of Freeport… and me, the only one of the three who actually wanted to wear a crown… and the only one who will not wear one.”

“You could have,” Cinder pointed out.

“Did Ruby tell you that?”

Cinder nodded. “She said that you were offered the crown even before Ruby was, but would not take it. Did she lie?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I’m not sure Ruby’s capable of lying.”

“Really?” Cinder asked. “I think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth if she thought the lie was for a good cause. Don’t mistake her kindness for innocence, still less naïvety; has she not proven to you by now that she is good, not nice?”

Sunset shook her head. “I’ve never known her to lie to me.”

“She never knew you to lie to her, until she found out you had,” Cinder pointed out. “Why didn’t you take the crown?”

“I have responsibilities away from here, to Professor Ozpin, to-”

“You could have left Ruby to handle these affairs and gone to Anima, leaving her to follow as she plans to later,” Cinder replied. “Are you still so mired in loathing of yourself that you do not believe yourself to be worthy?”

Sunset shook her head. “My worth is not the issue. I am… do you think General Ironwood ever felt torn between his duty to Professor Ozpin and to Atlas?”

“I wouldn’t presume to say,” Cinder murmured. “Although perhaps I should say something, and thus summon Rainbow Dash down from out of the north to chastise me for slandering the great and noble General.”

“If I thought that would work, I would have you do it,” Sunset said, “but the point is that I would not be divided between the kingdom that crowned me and my duties to Professor Ozpin. I would not serve two masters.”

“Yet you will be Professor Ozpin’s huntress and the Queen’s ambassador,” Cinder reminded her.

“True,” Sunset conceded. “I hope the latter role will not prove too durable or too onerous.”

“It might,” Cinder suggested. “If you keep Her Majesty waiting much longer.”

Thus chastised, and justly so, Sunset made her way back to the dining hall, where Ruby was waiting for her.

“Your Majesty,” Sunset said, and when she had got within a dozen paces of where Ruby sat, she stopped and curtsied. “I apologise if I have kept you waiting.”

“Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully. “Do you have to do that? Do we have to do this, even when we’re alone? There’s no one else here; can’t we just be… like we used to?”

“How is that, my queen?” Sunset asked. “You hating me?”

“You know what I mean!” Ruby cried. “Princess Celestia said that the worst part was that this crown would separate me from everyone.”

“Princess Celestia has much wisdom,” Sunset murmured. “I… didn’t understand why she minded at the time.”

“Do you get it now?”

“I have not experienced it.”

“No, that will be me,” Ruby muttered. “Lucky me.” Her expression brightened. “Ooh, but she said that she’d work with you to make a book that I could use to talk to her!”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Did she?”

Ruby nodded eagerly. “That way I can ask her for advice on… on anything, really. Ruling stuff.”

Sunset smiled. “There is no better teacher in the art of good governance and just rule than Princess Celestia. If you follow her example, then you will soon lead Freeport into an era of peace and prosperity the like of which these people can scarce have dreamt of.”

“If Salem lets me,” Ruby murmured.

“She won’t have a choice,” Sunset vowed. “I will not allow her one. And I will make Your Majesty a book. In fact, I will make two.”

“'Two'?” Ruby repeated.

“One so that Your Majesty may speak with Princess Celestia,” Sunset said, “and another that you may speak with me, though the CCT be down, if Your Majesty wishes to do so.”

“You mean… that we’d have a pair of magic books, that were for the two of us.”

“Only if you like,” Sunset said. “I don’t have to-”

Ruby moved in a blur of rose petals, covering the distance between the two of them in a mere instant, wrapping her arms around Sunset’s waist and squeezing her tight. “I would love it,” she said. “I would love that so much.”

Sunset frowned. “This is hardly the conduct of a queen.”

“I don’t care,” Ruby said. “And besides, if I’m the queen, then who is there to tell me that I’m behaving in the wrong way?”

“That… is a fair point, in this rough country,” Sunset conceded, wrapping her arms around Ruby in turn and squeezing her as Ruby was squeezing Sunset. “I will miss your wisdom. In fact, it’s probably selfish of me to make a way for us to keep in touch just so I can keep picking your brain.”

“I don’t care,” Ruby repeated. “Even if it is selfish, I still want it. I still love it.”

“I’m glad,” Sunset murmured. “Just as I am glad that you will have Princess Celestia watching over you, if only from a distance. I meant what I said: no one will give you better advice than she will.”

“I know,” Ruby said, releasing Sunset and retreating back towards her seat. “And she gave me the advice to talk to you about your mission to Freeport.” She walked towards the seat at the head of the table and sat down there. “Sit down,” she urged, gesturing to the many empty chairs that lined the table.

“If we are discussing my mission for my queen, then I should stand,” Sunset said. “Or would my queen prefer me to kneel?”

“Are you doing this on purpose to be annoying, or are you serious?”

“I’ll never tell,” Sunset said, a trace of a smile fleeting across her face. “What would my queen have of me? What shall I ask of Atlas and what shall I offer?”

Ruby was silent for a moment. “The Sun Queen wanted to keep her kingdom a secret, so that she could wait until she was as strong as the other kingdoms before she revealed herself to them. I think… I think she was wrong. That isn’t real strength. Real strength comes from us all working together, all of the kingdoms united against the real enemy. Or against the grimm, at least. I want… I want Estmorland to be one of those united kingdoms, standing together with the others. And that’s why I want you to ask Atlas for help. I’m not asking you to ask them for a huge army; even just a few huntsmen would help. Maybe Blake could lead them,” she suggested, her face and eyes alike brightening at the thought. “Maybe you could suggest that to General Ironwood and the Council?”

“I will remind General Ironwood that Blake was a friend of ours,” Sunset said. “She is very young to command an expedition, but on the other hand, she is in the know about all of this business with Salem, so… it could happen. I’ll try it anyway.”

“And a CCT tower,” Ruby added. “If they built a tower here in Freeport to replace the one at Vale that was destroyed, then the network could be brought back up.”

“It could, but building towers is an expensive business,” Sunset said. “You’re asking for a lot, my queen.”

“I know,” Ruby murmured. “And that’s why I’m willing to offer the SDC complete control over all the dust mines found in Estmorland.”

Sunset blinked rapidly. “Complete… you’re just going to hand the SDC all the dust in this kingdom?”

“Uh huh?”

“How much are you going to charge them for that?”

“Nothing,” Ruby said, as though Sunset should have been able to work that out for herself.”

“You’re going to give them all the dust for free?”

Ruby’s brow furrowed. “You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?”

“I think you’ll need money if you want to become part of the community of kingdoms, my queen,” Sunset said. “And I think that, that being the case, it is… not wise to give away your most valuable asset for nothing. At the very least, you should sell the mining concessions, if you will not lease them out.”

“And what if the SDC doesn’t want to pay?” Ruby asked. “What if they’re scared off by how wild this place is? After all, they’ve never tried to mine here before.”

“It will not be wild forever,” Sunset replied. “Once you have cemented your rule and brought the clans to heel-”

“I don’t know if we can wait that long,” Ruby said. “We need help now. If the SDC is starting to mine for dust, then Atlas won’t be able to ignore us, will they?”

“Is that what this is about?” Sunset asked. “You’re banking that the SDC will be so desperate for the mines here that they will become your ally in pressing for Altesian assistance for Freeport?”

“Do you think it will work?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Your Majesty knows what I think.”

“And I think that it’s best that the dust should be dug out of the ground where it can be used to help people survive and help huntsmen fight against the grimm,” Ruby declared.

“That… is a very idealistic point of view,” Sunset murmured. “But after the last queen this kingdom had, some idealism is perhaps what Freeport and Estmorland require. Very well, Your Majesty. I will carry your generosity to Atlas. What else shall I say?”

They had other discussions of that sort, in the few days that followed: what Sunset could offer to Atlas, what she could offer to Mistral if need be, what she could say, and what she could not say.

And in between times, with little preparations to return to Equestria necessary, Sunset found herself haunting the Queen’s library, searching for more evidence of Jaune’s royal lineage and descent from old Jaune of Gaunt.

It was in the library, or the basement if you wished to call it that, where Cardin found her.

His footsteps were heavier than Cinder’s had been and drew Sunset’s gaze up towards him as she heard him coming. He cast a larger shadow than Cinder too, at one point blocking out all the light coming down from above and leaving Sunset dependent on the whale-oil lamp she had brought with her.

Even as he descended the stairs further, he was silhouetted, not illuminated; the light did not shine on his face until he came into range of the lamp by Sunset. His brow was furrowed a little as he looked around at the stacked archive of faded parchments.

“Cinder told me that I’d find you here,” Cardin said.

“Cinder was right,” Sunset said softly.

“She said that you think Jaune is the rightful king of Vale.”

Sunset had brought a chair and a desk down here to aid in her researches, and she leaned backwards in said chair as she said, “I don’t suppose you know enough history to tell me why Vale never repealed the Succession Law of 1281, forbidding women from succeeding to the throne?”

“I didn’t even know there was a Succession Law of 1281.”

Sunset nodded. “It was instituted by King Henry the Seventh, whose mother had overthrown his father and ruled as queen for most of his life, and so when she died, he rewrote the law so that it couldn’t happen again. If you ask me, he had some issues. Although that doesn’t explain why nobody ever changed the law back.”

“None of this explains why any of it matters,” Cardin replied.

“It matters because if it weren’t for Henry’s laws, then the heir to the throne of Vale would be Jaune’s eldest sister,” Sunset explained.

“Isn’t it his father anyway?” Cardin asked. “Unless his father is dead, I don’t know.”

“Not as far as I know,” Sunset said. “But in any case, if his father lives, then he is the rightful claimant in the same way that Lady Nikos is the rightful claimant to the vacant throne of Mistral. In each case, the heir is… well, it’s Jaune and Pyrrha, respectively.”

“Again, why does this matter?” Cardin asked. “The monarchy ended with the Last King; even I know that. Vale has no king, nor needs one.”

“Looking at the recent performances of your elected magistrates, I’m not so sure about that,” Sunset murmured.

“Novo Aris made some mistakes,” Cardin admitted, “but nobody could have foreseen the circumstances which she was thrown into.” His voice grew bitter. “Nobody outside Professor Ozpin’s circle of trust, anyway.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not Professor Ozpin’s fault that the First Councillor fell.”

“Wasn’t it?” Cardin demanded. “He didn’t tell her anything! The grimm, the White Fang, he knew that it was all connected, he knew that there was something bigger going on, and he kept it to himself! He let Councillor Aris blunder on, making mistake after mistake because she didn’t realise-”

“And what would she have done differently if she had realised?” Sunset snapped. “Professor Ozpin didn’t force her to keep screwing up. He didn’t make her abandon Ruby and I and everyone else in the forest. He didn’t argue for any of the bad calls she made. Based on her track record, I’m not surprised that Professor Ozpin kept her in the dark; nothing suggests that she would have used the knowledge wisely if he had bestowed it on her.”

Cardin scowled. “Do you really believe it’s right that a headmaster should know more than the elected leader of the kingdom?”

“Yes,” Sunset said bluntly. “Firstly, because the elected leader of the kingdom was a little bit useless-”

“Things were going fine until the administration was hit by a runaway bus,” Cardin insisted. His eyes narrowed. “Or a runaway train.”

“Everybody’s over that by now, Cardin,” Sunset said. “Nobody cares any more.”

“You might not,” Cardin muttered.

“And secondly, Professor Ozpin is immortal, blessed with the wisdom of ages; there is no one better to lead the people through crises and the days of peace.”

Cardin folded his arms across his broad chest. “Really? And what makes you so sure about that?”

“Because I…” Sunset hesitated. “You know, it’s a good thing that we’ve reached this point, because I actually need to talk to you about this. You know… no, you don’t know, do you?” Because I didn’t mention it at the time. “First of all, thank you for agreeing to come to Anima with me and Cinder. I appreciate that it would have been easy for you to-”

“To what?” Cardin asked. “To stay here? Freeport isn’t my home; Vale is. I don’t plan to settle down anywhere but there. I’m coming to Anima with you because I think we can do good for Vale in Mistral… or, you’re welcome, I suppose. But what does that have to do with what we were talking about?”

“Nothing,” Sunset admitted. “And everything.” She scratched the back of her head nervously. “We… will not be taking a ship to Anima.”

Cardin’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, I shouldn’t be surprised you can walk on water on top of everything else.”

“We’ll be taking a train,” Sunset said, and rather enjoyed the bemused expression on his face. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Cardin Winchester.”

“Did I not realise that you were delusional?” Cardin asked.

“What I’m about to tell you may sound delusional,” Sunset admitted. “I came to Remnant from another world, a world called Equestria. A world inhabited by fantastical creatures, many of them… talking ponies.”

Cardin blinked. “'Talking ponies'?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, with an absolutely straight face and a perfectly sincere tone. “Magical, talking, pastel-coloured ponies. Earth ponies bound to the land, pegasi blessed with command over the weather, unicorns gifted with…” – she raised her hand, a green glow of magic surrounding it as she levitated a dozen scrolls off the nearest shelf – “magic.”

“Magic?” Cardin repeated. “That’s your semblance.”

“No, my semblance is actually a form of empathy,” Sunset replied. “I touch someone with my bare skin, and I can feel their emotions and experience some of their memories. That’s why I’ve taken to wearing gloves.”

Cardin stared at her. “Your semblance is empathy?”

“Nobody is more aware of the irony than I am, believe me.”

“And you have magic?”

“Not in the same way that Maidens have magic,” Sunset clarified. “Equestrian magic, which I brought with me from my own world.”

“Your world full of talking ponies?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure that you’re not delusional?”

“No, I am not delusional; I am an alicorn,” Sunset said. “Didn’t you wonder where the weather was coming from when we fought at Threadneedle?”

“I meant to ask you about that,” Cardin admitted, “but when you told me that you held the Fall Maiden powers for a little while, I figured you might have some vestigial essence of them, and that was why you were able to call down storms.”

“No,” Sunset said. “It’s not that.”

“Are you sure it’s not that?”

“Why would I make this up?” Sunset demanded. “And if I were out of my mind, why would I keep it to myself until now?”

“You have been through a lot lately,” Cardin pointed out.

“True, but not enough to rob me of my wits.”

“Okay, say that I believe you,” Cardin said. “Actually, wait, let me make sure I understand. You’re telling me that you are not faunus.”

“I was turned into a faunus when I came to your world,” Sunset said. “Transformed by the power of the magical portal that sent me here.”

“Why did you come here?” Cardin asked. “This place… has its faults.”

“For the fame,” Sunset said. “For the glory. For the power.”

Cardin stared at her.

“Because I was an idiot.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Cardin muttered. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I’m going home,” Sunset declared, “and if you want to come with me, then you will… be coming with me, obviously.”

“I thought we were going to Anima.”

“Via my home world,” Sunset said. “There is a portal to Equestria nearby. We’ll go through it, cross to the other portal which I used to get to Remnant in the first place, and come out the other side in Atlas. Then we can get an airship to take us to Mistral.”

Cardin’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s better than getting a boat because-”

“A boat won’t let me see my home again.”

“At least you’re being honest,” Cardin conceded. “I take it Cinder has no problem with this.”

“None that she’s voiced to me,” Sunset said. “One other reason… there is another pony here in Freeport, one who fell through the portal and became trapped here, a prisoner of the Sun Queen. I owe it to her, and to my old home, to get her back to Equestria safely.”

“I see,” Cardin murmured. “How long have you been away?”

“Six years,” Sunset said.

“You left your home when you were twelve? Thirteen?”

“Twelve,” Sunset said. “An overachieving and highly ambitious twelve.”

“No kidding; when I was twelve, I didn’t even want to do my homework, let alone cross worlds,” Cardin said. He hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”

Sunset hesitated. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” Cardin repeated. “I’ll go with you and see your home. Six years… I can’t imagine being away that long. No matter our disagreements… I can’t begrudge you the chance.”

Sunset smiled at him. “Thank you, Cardin,” she said. “I appreciate this, I really do.”

“Though I still don’t see what it has to do with immortals.”

“Oh! Yes, well, my home is ruled by Princess Celestia, an immortal alicorn who has governed and guided all the ponies of my realm for a thousand years and who has presided over the rise and rise of a society that is peaceful, prosperous, and in as much harmony with itself as can be managed. Thousands upon thousands, maybe millions, of ponies dwell in great cities and small towns alike, and she holds them all in harmony as a conductor maintains the concordant music of the orchestra.”

“Good for her,” Cardin growled. “It doesn’t follow that an immortal is necessarily the best choice to lead everyone everywhere.”

“It has to be better than letting ordinary people make a choice,” Sunset muttered.

Cardin rolled his eyes. “And if we can’t have that, then a king is better?”

“If you can’t have an immortal, then someone trained to rule and lead from their earliest youth is the next best thing, although that next obscures the distance between the two of them, yes,” Sunset said, as though that were obvious.

Cardin shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I trust you,” he muttered as he began to turn away.

“Oh, one last thing,” Sunset called to him. Her tone became intensely casual. “When we get to Equestria, you will temporarily be transformed into a talking pony too.”

“WHAT?”

“Lyra, thank you for coming,” Sunset said. She looked away and gestured with one hand to the bed in the corner, covered in skins and furs. “Please, sit down.”

Lyra took off her hat. “Okay,” she said, a little warily, as she walked across the room and sat down upon the bed, resting her hat upon her knees. “What’s this about?”

“This… this is about old debts,” Sunset replied. “And about the truth. The truth is that… I owe you an apology.”

Lyra frowned. “Is this about that time you spilled my secrets to the whole school?”

“Yes,” Sunset said simply. “At least, that’s where it starts.”

Lyra snorted. “You called me out here to apologise for that?” she cried. “Seriously?”

“Why is that so wrong?”

“Because it was ages ago?” Lyra suggested. “Because since then, I betrayed… everything and everyone? Because it’s such small potatoes? Seriously, Beacon is destroyed, Professor Ozpin is a reincarnating immortal, there’s a queen of the grimm trying to destroy the world, communications are down… man, a lot happened last year, didn’t it?”

Sunset couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Sometimes, I miss the days when our biggest problems were each other,” she murmured.

“There are days when you don’t miss those days?” Lyra demanded.

Sunset shrugged. “I can’t deny that the idea of this situation doesn’t have an appeal,” she confessed. “Me, leading the fight against evil, Professor Ozpin’s trusted servant, keeper of his confidences, the bulwark of the world against an evil of which the world is ignorant. If the idea had been put to me, I would have embraced it with both hands. It’s just the reality that turned out to be completely awful.”

“Didn’t it just,” Lyra muttered. “Which is kind of my point. So much has happened since then, and so much of it was so much worse than what you did, why bring it up?”

“Because I never admitted it, and I never apologised for it,” Sunset explained. “And I owe you an apology not just because what I did was wrong but, because…” she hesitated, taking a breath before he said, “because you were right.”

Lyra stared up at Sunset. “Come again?”

“You were right,” Sunset repeated. “There is a world out there filled with pastel coloured talking magical ponies. And I know that because… because I’m one of them.”

Lyra’s eyes blinked so rapidly that Sunset thought for a moment that she might be having a seizure. “You… what?”

“I’m one of them,” Sunset repeated. “One of the horses. One of the ponies. I’m a unicorn. Actually, I’m an alicorn now, and I have been for a while; it’s a little complicated-”

“'Complicated'!” Lyra cried. “What are you even talking about? You are obviously not a unicorn.”

“In this world, no,” Sunset admitted. “In my own world, in the world of Equestria, I have another form, and that form is – was – an adorable unicorn. The most adorable unicorn you ever set eyes on.”

“Other form?” Lyra asked weakly.

“When I came from my own world to this world, I changed form; I went from a unicorn to faunus,” Sunset explained. “I’m guessing the magic transformed me so that I would fit in.”

“But Megan Williams wasn’t transformed when she crossed into Equestria,” Lyra pointed out.

“She didn’t say that she was, but maybe she lied about that,” Sunset suggested. “Maybe she thought it would make her look even crazier than she did already.”

Lyra stared at Sunset. “You… you’re serious. This isn’t one last act of screwing with me before you go?”

“Why would I do that?” Sunset demanded.

“I don’t know; why are you telling me that your true form is a magical unicorn?”

“Because I think you’re owed the truth before you never see me again,” Sunset said.

Lyra kept on staring. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I’ve got no reason to lie,” Sunset said. “Because… because what you’ve thought of as my semblance is not my semblance; it’s Equestrian magic, and if you think about it, that makes a lot more sense that it actually being a semblance does.”

Lyra thought about that. “I must admit, you already had a pretty broken semblance and then when it evolved into letting you cause storms… yeah, that wasn’t really a logical evolution, was it?”

“Because it wasn’t an evolution of my semblance; it was me getting pegasus powers,” Sunset said.

“Pegasus powers,” Lyra repeated.

Sunset nodded.

Lyra’s mouth moved with no words emerging. She turned her hat around in her hands, turning the brim like the wheel of a car. “So… it’s all real?”

“Equestria is real,” Sunset corrected her. “I don’t know about the alien robots or any other parallel universes.”

“Oh, because a world of magical talking horses is real, but a parallel universe, that’s absurd.”

“I didn’t say it was absurd; I just said that I didn’t know if they existed or not.”

Lyra was silent for a moment. Then she leapt up and cried out, “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I KNEW IT! I was right all along, it’s real, no one believed me, but that doesn’t matter, because I WAS RIGHT!” She looked at Sunset. “I wish you’d told Bon Bon this as well; I’m worried she won’t believe it coming from me.”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You’re… taking this rather well.”

“What’s to take badly?” Lyra asked. “I was right. I’m not even mad that you leaked it any more.”

“But… everyone laughed at you.”

“Prophets are never appreciated in their own lifetimes,” Lyra declared airily. “The point is that I was right, and everyone who laughed at me was wrong and stupid, and most of them probably smelled. I was never a crazy girl who needed to grow up; I was right.” She whooped out loud, bounding across the room to grab Sunset by the shoulders and pull her into a hug. “You have to tell me everything: what’s it like, how did you get here, why did you come here, and can I come with you?”

“What?” Sunset exclaimed.

“Come on, it’s obvious that you’re going back.”

“How?” Sunset cried. “How is that obvious?”

“You’ve made no arrangements to get a boat across the ocean, there are no airships this side of the mountains, and you aren’t going to walk across the water,” Lyra explained.

“That doesn’t equate to returning to my magical homeland.”

“I have an intuitive intellect, clearly.”

“I wouldn’t have told you the truth if I’d known it was going to give you a swelled head,” Sunset muttered.

“Can I come with you?” Lyra repeated. “You… you have to let me come with you.”

“I don’t have to let you do anything,” Sunset reminded her firmly.

“Okay, no, you don’t have to have to, but come on,” Lyra whined. “This is… this is something I’ve believed in since I was six years old. This is… this is something that I have kept faith with even when people laughed at me, even when my therapist and my parents thought there was something wrong with me, even when I got arrested by the military for trying to break into that base… I have believed in this. I have carried it in my heart, and now you tell me it’s real? And you have a way to get there? I have to see it. You have to let me see it. Me, and Bon Bon too, if she’ll come with me. I don’t want to get in your way, I don’t want to be a part of your story, but I want to see it. I want to…” She trailed off, and for a moment, Sunset thought she might be done.

But then she got down on her knees and grabbed Sunset by her knees in supplication. “I know that I will never be a hero. I know that I won’t even be a huntress, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be a very good one but… but if I can see another world, your world, if I can touch it, hear its sounds, smell its smells, taste everything that there is that’s safe to taste, if I can explore this strange and wonderful world you come from… none of that other stuff will matter. I don’t need to be a hero like Megan Williams or even- even like you, but… but I want to see what so few other eyes have seen; is that so terrible?”

“No,” Sunset said softly, looking down on her. “No, it… it’s honestly a better reason than any that I had for coming to your world.” Better, and yet not completely unalike: falling out of the world because they wanted to escape the one they had been born into. The difference was that Lyra had, finally, shed all her dreams of glory and relevance. Sunset hadn’t gotten so far when she crossed over. “Okay. You can come, and Bon Bon too. And you don’t have to leave when we do.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Really? You mean it?”

Sunset would have bowed if someone hadn’t been holding her legs. “You have my word.”

Lyra gasped. “Thank you! Thank you, Sunset, oh, thank you so much.”

“Yes, fine, you’re welcome; now will you please let go of my legs?”

Ruby was alone.

Well, okay, Zwei was there too, but he was sleeping on the floor, and that wasn’t a lot of help to her.

Even if the reason he was sleeping was that Ruby had no heart to wake him right now.

Ruby had been offered the crown of Freeport because she was a warrior, a Silver-Eyed Warrior, and so she thought it fitting that, even for her coronation, she should go before the people of Freeport as a warrior. So, from the neck down, over her cream tunic and her tights, she wore an all-encompassing suit of armour which Cinder and she had designed together but which it had fallen to Ember to fashion for her, working the forge night and day to hammer out each peace of shimmering metal to the instructions that had been given to her.

It was, so she said, her gift to her new queen, and it was a queenly gift indeed. The armour was wrought of steel but gilt in silver, giving it – most of it, at least – a radiant sheen as it reflected the light from every angle. Her cuirass was segmented, like Jaune’s, and it would give her room to move around in battle if she needed it – that was, if she chose to wear the armour into battle; it certainly made her look the part, but she wasn’t sure how well it suited her fighting style. Each segment of the cuirass – in fact, each part of her armour, from her shoulder pauldrons to the vambraces that enclosed her arms to the couters that protected her elbows – was edged with gold – or at least gilded to appear so – in memory of Yang, and about her waist, she wore a yellow sash in memory of Sunsprite Rose, and on the sash, she had fastened the silver rose that was the emblem of herself and of her family.

Though she was going to be alone out here, though Sunset was going on and… and leaving her behind, as Jaune and Pyrrha had left her behind; she did not want to forget any of them, did not want to forget when she had once been a part of Team SAPR.

And so, her greaves and cuisses were fashioned explicitly after those that Pyrrha had worn at Beacon, save that they were silver-seeming and not gold, while her cuirass resembled that which Jaune had latterly worn after Mountain Glenn. Her pauldrons alone of all her armour did not have a silver look about it; rather, Ember had so worked the metal as to give it a fiery reddish appearance, like a setting sun as it dips below the horizon out of sight.

Upon the cuirass and the greaves and upon every part of her armour, Ember had worked patterns of roses, their stems rising in bas-relief as they crawled along the surface of the metal, their stalks and vines and thorns visible only in relief, but the rose petals themselves were worked in rubies, gemstones big and small gleaming and glimmering as they formed the flower patterns.

Her red cloak hung about her shoulders, and around her waist, beneath the yellow sash, she wore a short black skirt with a red ruffle around the hem, descending down to just below her thighs.

Only a helmet was missing; she had the helmet that Prince Rutherford had given to her, and it too had been fashioned first by the Summer Fire Clan, but she could hardly wear the crown upon the head while also wearing a horned helmet, and so, her head was bare, for now.

She had not seen the crown. Ember had worked on that in secret. Ruby would see it first mere moments before it was placed upon her head.

Ruby regarded herself in the mirror. This was Ruby Rose now: the Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, a figure all clad in armour to defend her kingdom, a figure of shining majesty.

Someone she didn’t recognise.

She closed her eyes.

Jaune, help me to be wise; Pyrrha, give me grace; Sunset, grant me confidence.

The door opened behind her. Ruby turned, her scarlet cape whirling around her, in time to see her father come in. He had not changed his clothes, but looked the same as he always did. Ruby was glad of that; it gave her comfort.

He smiled down at her. “How are you holding up, kiddo?”

Ruby looked down at the stone floor beneath her. “A little nervous,” she admitted. “Everyone’s going to depend on me, aren’t they?”

“It looks that way,” Taiyang replied. “Your grandpa’s right; you are very brave to go through with this. Not everyone would.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Ruby replied.

“That doesn’t make you any less brave, even if it’s true,” Taiyang said.

Ruby didn’t look up. “Am I going to be okay at this? Is this going to work or… how do I know that I won’t mess this up?”

“You don’t,” Taiyang said candidly. “You just try not to, every day; some days, that won’t help, and you’ll make mistakes, but you learn from that, you remember it, and you don’t make the same mistake again.” He knelt down in front of her and tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him.

He stared at her for a moment, and for that moment, it looked almost as though he had tears in his eyes. “A huntress,” he said, “is sworn to valour.”

“Dad?”

Taiyang smiled. “Repeat after me, Ruby,” he said. “A huntress is sworn to valour.”

Ruby hesitated, because she knew what those words meant and where they came from. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I think that you should become a huntress before you become a queen,” Taiyang declared.

The smile spread across Ruby’s face, threatening to split it in two it was so wide. Her armour creaked and clinked upon the floor as she knelt. “A huntress,” she said, “is sworn to valour.”

“Her heart knows only virtue.”

Ruby closed her eyes, and clasped her armoured hands together over her own heart. “Her heart knows only virtue.”

“Her blade defends the helpless.”

“Her blade defends the helpless,” Ruby murmured.

“Her might upholds the weak.”

“Her might upholds the weak,” Ruby declared.

“Her word speaks only truth.”

“Her word…” Ruby paused, a sudden lump in her throat. “Her word speaks only truth.” It hasn’t been true, I admit, but it will be from now on.

“Her wrath undoes the wicked.”

“Her wrath undoes the wicked!” Ruby said, her voice rising.

Taiyang smiled. “Now rise a huntress.”

Ruby rose and embraced him in a hug. “Thanks, Dad,” she said. Even if I’m having to give up my dream, at least I got to achieve it, sort of, before then.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Ruby took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said. “Yeah, I think I am.”

“Then let’s go,” he said.

The coronation took place not in the Tower of the Sun but in the largest square in Freeport, where a great crowd had gathered in advance of her arrival. The warriors of the Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire Clans mingled with the Rangers and with the ordinary townsfolk of Freeport, although the clansfolk formed the front line of the masses who filled the outer edges of the square, leaving a hollow in the centre and a gap on the eastern side entering the square, through which Ruby entered.

She had no attendants. She had no guards, no one to follow in her train except her father. She was alone, as she would be alone.

She could see some of her companions near the forefront of the crowd: Torchwick and Neo, Lyra and Bon Bon. Of Sunset, there was no sign.

She… didn’t come?

A light touch of wind brushed against Ruby’s cheek, stroking a few strands of her blood-tipped hair aside. The breeze, the only breath of wind on an otherwise calm day, drew her attention to the left and upwards. Up, to the roof of one of the houses where Sunset stood, perched upon the tiles, with the best view of any one gathered here.

She was far away, and it was hard to really see her face, but as Sunset waved one hand to her, Ruby thought that she was smiling.

Ruby smiled back, at Sunset and at Cinder who was sitting on the roof beside her, and her heart lifted a little as she returned her attention to the square itself and to the ceremony which, practiced more than once, was about to unfold for the final time.

For real this time.

I can do this. I have to do this.

She could see Ember and Prince Rutherford waiting for her in the centre of the square, along with the Sun Queen's counsellors Laurel and Cherry. Prince Rutherford held a large, oval-shaped shield in his hands. Ruby already knew why.

Everyone watched her, and as she entered the square, a great silence fell across the crowd as they waited, expectant, for what was to come.

"Friends and allies, people of Freeport, subjects to the throne of Estmorland," Laurel said, her voice carrying across the square. "The Sun Queen is dead." She paused. "Though many calumnies in recent days have poured upon her head, I beg you, friends, think nothing ill of she who was your queen, for she was wise and generous and loved you well, and by her will and unyielding persistence, this city was raised out of nothing to be all that it is today."

At least some of that was highly debatable, but allowing Laurel to say it was a necessary part of the truce that had been patched up between the Sun Queen's associates and those who had, at the last, been her enemies. Laurel and Cherry and whatever else remained of the old regime would not oppose Ruby's accession to power in Freeport and Estmorland, while Ruby would neither punish them for their past actions nor tarnish the reputation of the queen that they had served and loved. Ruby couldn't say how many people would be moved by that little eulogy, but she wouldn't stop Laurel from saying it.

"But the Queen is dead," Laurel continued. "The Queen is dead, and the throne is empty. The Sun Queen would not wish it to remain so, would not wish all that we have worked and striven for these past years to come to nothing. She would not wish Freeport to die. We must have a new queen, or king, to sit upon the throne. Friends and subjects, as you chose the Sun Queen to be your sovereign, as you submitted to her will and law, so you must once again choose who will sit upon the throne of Freeport and have dominion over Estmorland." Now, and only now, did she look at Ruby. "Who comes to claim the throne of Freeport?"

Ruby took another step forward. "I do," she said, and although they had gone over this half a dozen times, her voice trembled regardless. "R-Ruby Rose."

"Why should Ruby Rose rule Freeport?" Prince Rutherford demanded.

"Why should we have you for our queen?" asked Prince Ember.

Ruby swallowed. "Because I have defended this city against the grimm," she said, her voice ringing out across the square. "Because I am a Silver-Eyed Warrior, blessed with the powers of light itself, and the darkness flees from me. Because I am a great warrior, and my scythe is swift as thought. Because I have friends in the kingdoms of Atlas and Mistral who will give us aid against our common enemy. And because I promise that I will not rule you as a tyrant, but keep the peace between the clans and the peoples so that friendship may flourish across this whole land."

Laurel looked down, and it took her a moment to say, "Friends, subjects, people of Freeport and Estmorland, what say you to Ruby Rose?"

Prince Rutherford was the first to kneel, and as he knelt, he laid the shield he bore flat upon the ground, gripping it by the rim. Ember knelt too, and took the rim of the shield upon the other side.

"Hail Ruby Rose, Queen of Estmorland," Ember said.

"Hail, Ruby Queen," Prince Rutherford said.

Ruby walked forwards. Her steps seemed louder in the silence; they almost echoed in her ears as she advanced, with the eyes of all upon her.

She tried not to seem too tentative or too hesitant as she stepped onto the shield.

Ruby flung her arms out on either side of her for balance as she was hoisted up into the air, the shield on which she stood raised up by Ember and Prince Rutherford above their heads – above Ember's head, anyway – while the warriors of the clans banged spearbutts upon the ground, banged axes upon their shield, and the whole crowd took up the call, "Ruby Queen! Ruby Queen! Ruby Queen!"

"Long live Queen Ruby! Long live the Grimmbane!"

"The Queen of Roses!"

"The Queen with the Silver Eyes!"

So simply was it done. More than the moment when the crown was placed upon her head, now, she was queen. The Queen of Roses, the Queen of Freeport, the queen of all the lands east of the mountains.

It was the last thing she wanted.

It was the only thing that she would ever be.

It was the thing to which she would commit her life.

She would not fail these people who cheered for her, these people who put their trust in her. She would not fail, no matter the cost.

The wine flowed, and the dining hall was filled to the rafters with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and song – some of it rather better than others.

In one corner of the hall, someone was playing a yovidaphone, the drawn out sounds echoing off the stone walls.

Ruby sat at the very head of the table. They had placed a golden crown upon her head, an ornate crown fashioned like a garland of roses, each flower opened to receive the blessing of the sun.

Sunset stood in the doorway, observing the feast without being a part of it, watching as the clansfolk and the people of Freeport dined on roast duck and wild boar and all other ‘delicacies’ that she did not care for but which they seemed quite mad for here.

Her eyes were fixed on Ruby, taking her in, drinking in her appearance, in her armour and her crown, in all the roses with which she was adorned.

She wanted to take her in, because she didn’t know how long it would be before she saw her again.

Sunset would not go into the feast. This was the Queen’s time; there was no place for her there.

It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, a new age that had neither place nor need for the creatures of the old.

But we had a good run together, you and I, didn’t we?

She could not stay. She could not linger here, she could not venture in to join the feast, for all that this was their parting for who knew how long. Though this was her last chance to say goodbye, she knew that if she ventured in… if she tried to say what was in her heart… that heart would break.

It was almost broken now.

She turned away, unseen, unspeaking, and her ears drooped and her tail trailed after her as she stalked from hall and tower both.

Cinder and Cardin were waiting for her outside, with Lyra and Bon Bon, and Robyn Hill too, the latter bouncing impatiently upon the balls of her feet. For that matter, Lyra looked pretty impatient herself.

“Are you ready to leave?” Cinder asked, her voice as gentle as the breeze which Sunset had conjured to kiss Ruby’s cheek, and draw her eye, in the square that day.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, I’m ready now.”

“If you’d rather stay,” Robyn murmured, “I can wait a little longer.”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “It’s… it’s fine. Let’s-”

“Go?” Ruby said. “Without saying goodbye?”

Sunset stood still, silent, frozen for a moment before she allowed herself to turn around. “It’s not fair that you can move so silently in that armour,” she said.

“I turn into a bunch of rose petals,” Ruby replied. “So am I really wearing armour?”

Sunset snorted. She looked down at her feet. “I… I thought it was best if-”

“If you just walked away?” Ruby demanded. “Like it didn’t mean anything?”

“'Like it didn’t mean anything'?” Sunset repeated. “No, I… I had to walk away because it means too much.”

Ruby stared at her. “Sunset,” she whispered. “You… you’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?”

Sunset blinked. “Come again?”

Ruby held out her hands. “Come inside,” she said. “Eat with me. Drink with me. One last time. I… I command it! I’m the queen; I can give you orders now!”

Sunset chuckled, although it ended up coming out like a bit of a wheeze. “Ruby-”

“I’m sad too, but you don’t see me acting like a big baby about it!” Ruby said with a slight pout.

“I am not a baby,” Sunset snapped. “I am a tortured Romantic!”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Cardin asked.

“No, it is not!” Sunset declared loudly. She paused. “But… how can I refuse a command from the new queen of Freeport?”

A smile began to blossom upon Ruby’s face. “You mean-?”

“I mean,” Sunset said, kneeling down before her so that they were of a height, “that you don’t need to be sad. This… this is your day of glory. The Queen of Roses cometh, behold, behold,” she smiled. “This will be a day that will live in history.”

“That was your dream, Sunset; I never cared about that stuff.”

“No,” Sunset murmured. “No, you didn’t. But like you said, this- this is my dream, so I expect you to take good care of it. You wouldn’t want to insult me by taking my life’s ambition lightly, would you?”

Ruby shook her head. “I’ll be the best queen that there has ever been, in your honour.”

“Better work hard, then; you’ve got some stiff competition,” Sunset replied. “Things end,” she said. “Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But something new always starts in its place, and that’s always happy. So be happy. And I’ll take care of everything else.” She reached out and placed one hand on Ruby’s cheek. “I will not forget one moment of this,” she vowed. “Not one word.”

“Me neither,” Ruby agreed. “Not one word.”

Sunset smiled with her mouth closed. “So… are their vegetarian options at this royal banquet?”

Ruby giggled. “I’m sure I can find you something. Or order someone to find you something; that’s how this works now, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much,” Sunset agreed. “Your Majesty.”

She rose and walked with Ruby, side by side, back into the banquet hall.

Equestria was waiting, and Atlas and Anima and Professor Ozpin and her promise to Amber… and her separation from Ruby. All of it was waiting, all of it calling to her, all of it looping its chains to drag her away from Freeport and her first and greatest friend.

But not yet. Not tonight.

Not yet.

Author's Note

Art by Jo3mm

This, unfortunately, marks the point at which chapters will return to two-weekly intervals, due to a lack of chapters and the fact that my writing pace has slowed down a little lately. I'm sorry.

Schnee For Atlas

Schnee for Atlas

In times past, there had been moments when the Schnee Manor had, to Weiss, seemed more like a dusty tomb than the home of a family. A tomb where love and life had died and been laid to rest in old forgotten crypts, and where only brooding silence reigned now.

Klein said that the house had rung with laughter when her mother had been a little girl – at least as much as the Gardener’s Boy, which was all he had been at the time, could recall – but that time had passed long ago now. For the last few years that Weiss had spent in this house, before her escape to Beacon, the house had been nearly empty in its vastness. With Winter gone, and only Klein left in service to the family, the four remaining members of the House of Schnee had rattled around this mansion that was far bigger than they needed but, at the same time, not quite big enough to let them all lead the completely separate lives that they desired. And so they had dwelt, like floating islands untethered from the ocean bed, sometimes passing close to one another for a few begrudging moments before moving away; or like planets orbiting around the servile sun that was Klein, the only one with whom they all had regular contact, whether that was for practical reasons… or because he was the only one who could give them what they needed.

Now, more recently, things were different. Now that her father was running for office, it was as if the Schnee Manor had stirred to life after a long slumber, opening its bleary eyes to see the sunlight poking in around the curtains, a sign that it had slept too long and risen too late.

Although the house was not technically the headquarters of the Schnee for Atlas campaign – for that, her father had rented some floors of the rather phallic-shaped glass tower called The Cucumber, which was said to be a masterpiece of avant-garde architecture by those who understood such things – nevertheless, Weiss could hardly have failed to notice how much busier the manor had become as a result of her father’s run for Council. In the weeks since he had announced his candidacy, there had been a constant stream of visitors coming in and out: prominent backers, political hacks looking for jobs with the campaign, pinch-faced analysts with polling data, journalists looking for a scoop. They came in the daytime to talk business, and in the evening, Jacques Schnee entertained his new friends with lavish dinner parties or intimate suppers.

In truth, the Schnee Manor had probably not seen this much socialising since Weiss’s grandfather was alive.

She found herself almost missing the oppressive feeling of the mausoleum that it had been.

“Do you think that’s very strange, Klein?” Weiss asked. “Do you think that’s very hypocritical of me?”

She had retreated down into the kitchen, where she knew that her father and mother and Whitley would not go, to say nothing of her father’s new friends and supporters. Only Klein could be found here now, which was all to the good, as Klein was the only one whom Weiss really wanted to see.

Klein presently had his back to her, although he turned around shortly, holding in his hands a black teapot enclosed within a hand-knitted megagoliath tea cosy, spout emerging from between a pair of tusks. “Hypocritical, Miss Schnee?”

Weiss clasped her hands together over her knee. “I can’t claim to have been very happy here. I mean, I know you did your best, but-”

“I’m not offended, Miss Schnee,” Klein said gently, as he poured the tea into the china cup sitting on the table in front of Weiss. He poured a cup for himself as well before he sat down. “I know that a few infrequent japes and funny voices were not nearly as much as you needed or deserved.” His eyes flashed from their usual brown to a more golden colour, and his voice rose just a tad. “Nothing made me happier than to see you go away to Beacon. I hoped very much that you might find some kind of happiness there.”

A soft smile crossed Weiss’ face. “I did, for a while,” she murmured. She picked up the little jug of milk and poured in a dash, following it up with a couple of sugar cubs before she began to stir it all in. “Was it very disappointing for you when I came back?”

“It isn’t my place to be disappointed in you, Miss Schnee,” Klein said, adding some milk to his own tea, but eschewing sugar. “And I’m not sure you could, even if you tried.” He took a sip of his tea, and as Weiss did likewise, Klein said, “And besides, if you hadn’t come home for the holidays, then who would have helped the Seacoles during that dreadful business? These things… seem to have a way of working out for the best, I find.”

Weiss lowered her cup from her lips and swallowed the hot tea. “Yes, I… I suppose you have a point there; that did work out quite well. For the Seacoles, anyway, although I daresay that Blake and Rainbow Dash could have handled all of that well enough without my help.”

“No need to do yourself down, Miss Schnee; I’m sure your contribution was invaluable.”

“And you don’t need to flatter me, Klein.”

“I only flatter your father, Miss Schnee; with you, I say only what I see in front of me.”

Weiss let out a little titter of laughter. “And yet you say it so charmingly,” she murmured. She took another sip of her tea.

“Would you like a biscuit, Miss Schnee?” Klein asked. “I apologise; I quite forgot.”

“No, thank you, Klein,” Weiss replied quickly. “I’m meeting some of the girls for a picnic.”

“The girls, Miss Schnee? Not dashing young Mister Sentry?” Klein asked.

“Flash is on duty,” Weiss explained. “He’s Officer of the Day, which I think means that he’s in charge.” She paused. “You think he’s dashing?”

“I think that he makes you happy, Miss Schnee,” Klein replied. His eyes flashed red, and his voice became a low growl. “And the moment he stops, he’ll answer to me.”

Weiss giggled. “I might tell him that when I see him next,” she said.

Klein’s eyes returned to their normal brown. “I hope you will, Miss Schnee; if it isn’t prying, when will you see him again?”

“Tomorrow,” Weiss replied. “We’re going dancing at the Mortimer.”

Klein smiled beneath his walrus-like moustache. “Does that mean that you’ll miss your father’s dinner party, Miss Schnee?” he asked before drinking some more of his tea.

“Yes, unfortunately, it does,” Weiss said, in as bland a tone as she could muster. “Luckily, father understands that we’re only young once.” Dates with Flash were about the only things that Weiss could use to get out of these tedious social functions – the fact that Flash’s mother was one of the prominent backers of the Schnee campaign might have had something to do with that – and so she took every opportunity to schedule them in opposition to one another. Flash was sometimes around for these campaign functions, with his mother, but the two of them sitting at the same table along with a dozen officials of state talking politics, with Weiss and Flash stuck waiting for the moment when everyone not involved in the campaign could get up from the table and leave her father and his new associates to talk politics, was hardly the same thing as having time to themselves.

“You’re very fortunate, Miss Schnee, to have found a young man your father approves of but who is not…”

“The kind of person you would expect my father to approve of?” Weiss suggested.

“I’m afraid that I could never imply such a thing, Miss Schnee.”

Weiss smiled thinly. “Fortunately, I could,” she said. She took another sip of tea. It was not quite so hot any more. “I am, as you say, very fortunate. I’m not sure that I would if Flash’s mother wasn’t backing Father. It’s not really Flash he approves of, I think, or at least I’m not sure that he would if he knew him better than as the son of Silver Sentry.” She put down the tea cup. “Klein, if you only tell me what you see, then tell me: what do you think of all of this? About Father’s campaign?”

Klein thought for a moment. “In some ways, I’m reminded of when your grandfather was alive, Miss Schnee. You may be too young to remember, but even when he was old and frail, the advice of Nicholas Schnee was still greatly sought after by many people.”

“Really?” Weiss said. “I don’t remember that.”

“You were only a small child when he died, Miss Schnee,” Klein reminded her. “Indeed, for some of the time that I’m talking about, I wasn’t even the butler, only the under-butler to Mister Beach. But it’s true that even when Nicholas Schnee was unable to leave the house, people came to the house to hear what he had say: officers about to be posted to foreign lands came to find out what he knew about them; Councillors wanted to know what he thought about the great events of the day; even the old headmaster of Atlas consulted him on the curriculum. Sometimes, I think people just came to hear his stories. The only person who didn’t extensively consult with your grandfather was…”

“My father?” Weiss guessed.

“Yes, Miss Schnee.”

“Hmm, I see,” Weiss murmured. “And yet… the difference is that all of these people aren’t consulting my father; it’s more like he’s consulting them. I’m not sure that I trust them, Klein.”

Klein was silent for a moment. “Forgive me, Miss Schnee; perhaps I know less of the world going on beyond these walls than I ought to, but I don’t think I quite understand.”

“I don’t understand it myself,” Weiss said. “Why are all these officials and officers backing my father to run for Council? And why is Father even running for Council; he’s never cared about politics except when it interfered with the company. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Are you worried, Miss Schnee?” Klein asked.

“A little,” Weiss confessed. “Although I’m not sure I could say what it is that I’m worried about.”

“Perhaps you are worried about your father?” Klein suggested.

Weiss let out a little laugh. “Perhaps I am,” she admitted. “But am I worried about him, or am I worried for him?” She glanced at Klein, and her tone became a little accusing. “But I asked you what you thought, if you recall.”

“So you did, Miss Schnee, I do apologise.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Weiss assured him. “But I would like you to answer.”

“Very few people see me, Miss Schnee,” Klein said. “Even when I’m serving them. If they aren’t asking me for something specifically, why it’s as if the wine bottle is simply levitating itself in such a way as to refill their glass, or the next course is simply appearing on their plate as if by magic.”

Weiss chuckled. “If I’ve ever been guilty of that – and I probably have – then I apologise.”

“I don’t mention this to shame you, Miss Schnee, but to explain that your father’s friends talk freely in my presence, because they don’t really notice that I’m there.” Klein paused. “They are ambitious people, Miss Schnee. The sort who, although they have risen high in many cases, can only fume that they have not risen as high as they once dreamed or feel that they deserved to rise.”

“I know the type,” Weiss said. “I’m sad to say that there was a time when I almost became that type myself.”

“I find that hard to believe, Miss Schnee,” Klein said, with commendable loyalty.

“That’s very kind of you, Klein, but there was a moment when I was getting very frustrated with my lack of progress,” Weiss confessed. “Fortunately, I decided to do something about it rather than stewing in my resentment.”

“Sadly, Miss Schnee, I fear that some of Mister Schnee’s new friends have had a long time to marinate.”

“You think that they mean to use him as a vehicle for their ambitions?”

“I’m not sure that it’s my place to say, Miss Schnee,” Klein said. “Although, if it helps at all, I doubt that Mister Schnee will find it a particularly unpleasant experience.”

“Not unpleasant?” Weiss asked. “To be a puppet of other men’s ambitions?”

“He will still be a Councillor, with all the status and privileges implied,” Klein reminded her. “And, when his term expires, the SDC will be waiting for him, I’m sure. There are far worse fates to endure.”

“Mhmm,” Weiss murmured. “Do you think that the fate of living under the government of this cabal might qualify?”

“You’ve seen more of the world in eighteen years than I have in far more, Miss Schnee, but I can’t worry about that too much,” Klein admitted. “No matter who is elected, Atlas will always be Atlas. I know that I spend more time in this house than might be healthy, but when I emerge, I still recognise the kingdom I grew up in.”

That was certainly a comforting notion, albeit one that gave Weiss less comfort than Klein had, perhaps, intended. In the first place, it might have been true that Atlas had always been Atlas, but that was no guarantee that it would always be so. Beacon, after all, had always been Beacon… until the tower was destroyed and many of the buildings savaged by grimm, and then it hadn’t quite been Beacon any more. And secondly, how comforted one was by the knowledge that Atlas would always be Atlas very much depended on how good you thought that Atlas was in first place.

“We’ll see, I suppose,” Weiss said as she got to her feet, pushing her chair back across the kitchen floor. “Thank you, Klein. For the tea and for letting me hide down here.”

“You’re always welcome, Miss Schnee,” Klein told her. “Have a very good day.”

“I hope so,” Weiss said, smiling at him as she turned away, her heels clicking on the floor as she climbed the stairs up out of the kitchen and back towards those areas of the house where the family was supposed to be.

She started to climb the grand staircase, meaning to go to her room and wait there until it was time to go and meet the others, but as she began to climb, she was arrested by a voice behind her.

“Hiding with Klein again, I see.”

Weiss turned around, looking down at her little brother where he stood at the foot of the stairs. “I wouldn’t call it hiding,” she replied. “I’m not ashamed of where I was.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you should be,” Whitley replied. “Although Father might disagree. After all, I suppose it’s not really the done thing. One is supposed to have the butler bring tea, not go down to the kitchen to have tea with the butler.”

“I don’t really care what one is supposed to do, anymore,” Weiss replied.

“And that’s your right,” Whitley informed her. “Or should I call it your privilege? Not all of us can so easily disregard Father’s opinion of our conduct.”

Weiss hesitated for a moment. Her brow furrowed, and she felt a slightly squirming sense of guilt in her stomach. She had never really considered what it had been like for Whitley after she had left for Beacon. For her, it had been liberation from a house that had grown cold and oppressive, but for Whitley… Weiss descended the stairs. “Was it… hard, for you?”

Whitley’s eyes darted left and right. He shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“When I left,” Weiss said, “for Beacon. When I left you… alone here.”

Whitley’s face twitched with irritation. “I wasn’t asking for your pity,” he said sharply.

“I wasn’t… I’m sorry,” Weiss said quickly.

“I just wanted to remind you that not everyone has the same way out that you do,” Whitley said.

“I’m not sure how open that route is to me anymore,” Weiss reminded him.

Whitley hesitated. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Which some might call a good thing.”

“A good thing?” Weiss repeated. “A good thing that I’m-”

“Stuck here?” Whitley suggested. “Like me?” He smiled, or smirked, or something in between. “Come now, sister, if nothing else, surely you’ve realised by now that being here isn’t that bad. You’re not a captive fairytale princess; your shining armour boyfriend-”

“Actually, my boyfriend’s name is Flash Sentry; Shining Armour is his superior officer.”

Whitley groaned. “Your sense of humour has gone to the dogs since you went away,” he muttered. “The point is, you don’t need a knight of any kind to rescue you; you can go out whenever you want, and you have this house to come back to whenever you want. And Klein.”

“Are you telling me to count my blessings?” Weiss asked.

“I’m telling you that you could be a lot worse off than you are,” Whitley said. “The answer to your question, by the way, is that it wasn’t that hard, because things aren’t that bad.”

“No, I suppose they aren’t,” Weiss acknowledged. “They’re just not where I want to be.”

“You’d rather die in battle?”

“I’d rather fight,” Weiss replied firmly. “Dying is… a possibility, not a certainty.”

“And here, it’s an impossibility,” Whitley declared.

“Lucky me,” Weiss said dryly. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Do you have somewhere better to be?” Whitley asked.

“A lot of things would be better than this conversation,” Weiss said.

Whitley took a step back, and he actually looked a little hurt. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said sharply. “I just… do you have any idea what it’s like knowing that you or Winter could die basically at any time? Wondering what the news would do to Father or Mother? Wondering what I’d have to do? You didn’t just leave me here, sweet sister, you both left me here knowing that I might have to pick up the pieces, and for what?”

“For humanity,” Weiss whispered. “Do you think that this life that you – that we – benefit from so much would just continue if someone wasn’t willing to fight for it?”

“I’m not an idiot, or a naïve child; I know that someone has to fight, but why does it have to be you?” Whitley demanded. “Why can’t you leave that to your brutish faunus friend?”

Weiss frowned. “Blake?”

“I don’t know, I can’t keep track of all of your new friends,” Whitley grumbled. “Is she the one with a face like a thug?”

“Ah, Rainbow Dash. With the multi-coloured hair.”

“Yes, that one,” Whitley said. “She looks as though no one would miss her if she got eaten by some monster somewhere.”

“You would be wrong about that,” Weiss said, her voice as chilly as the snows beyond the city. “Everyone has someone who would miss them if they were gone.” She paused. “But… I’m sorry for not considering you… your situation. I didn’t think about it. I only thought about-”

“Getting away?” Whitley suggested.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

“Congratulations, sister, you're as selfish as a Schnee ought to be,” Whitley informed her. “But I won’t press the point any further, lest you decide to sic a summons on me or something.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Weiss assured him. “Although I might throw you across the hall with a glyph.”

“Oh, you won’t attack me with a ghost, but you will break my back, how very reassuring,” Whitley muttered. He paused. “You look nice,” he said.

“Thank you,” Weiss said softly. She was dressed in white, a one-piece gown with a skirt that was ankle-length and a little narrower than A-line in cut, with a blue sash running just above the hem, adorned with the Schnee snowflake at the four ‘corners,’ for want of a better word. Another blue sash was bound tight around Weiss’ waist, tied into a large bow at the back, with two streams of fabric trailing down from the bow towards the floor. The white collar swooped downwards from her shoulders, while a choker of blue was fastened tightly around her throat.

“Are you dressed for anything special?” Whitley followed up.

“Not really, just a picnic with some friends,” Weiss said. “But Rarity keeps sending me new dresses to wear, and even though some of them are a little much, I feel as though I ought to show her that I’m wearing them in case she thinks that I don’t like them or something.”

Whitley chuckled. “Well, you do look nice. I thought perhaps you were meeting your boyfriend.”

“He’s on duty.”

“Perhaps if he goes on assignment and you have to stay here and wait, you’ll understand how hard it is,” Whitley remarked. He paused. “But I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“You’re not the only one,” Weiss said. “I think the reason his mother got him the job on the Council Guard is so that he never has to go on assignment. Anyway, I’m seeing Flash tomorrow night.”

“What a coincidence,” Whitley said. “Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and I are going to the opera tomorrow night.”

“Yes, what a coincidence that we’ll both be missing Father’s dinner party.”

“I’m sure the great and the good of Atlas will manage to get by without us,” Whitley said airily.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Weiss agreed. She reached out and put one hand upon the stair banister. “What do you think of all this? Father running for office?”

Whitley shrugged. “I think all of these people are using Father because they don’t think they could win election in their own rights, so they need a figurehead who can. I also don’t see that it really matters.”

“Really?” Weiss demanded. “Father is being used by a cabal as their puppet – possibly, at least – and you don’t see why that matters?”

“No,” Whitley said bluntly. “So they’re using Father, the same way that Diamond Tiara is using me. He’ll still be rich when all of this is over, he’ll still have this house, and unless he says something unspeakable to turn the whole of the chattering classes against us – which I’m sure he won’t – we’ll still enjoy an enviable social position. I don’t see the downside.”

“That’s because you’re rather cynical, I must say,” Weiss murmured. “I could never go out with Flash if I knew that he was just using me for power or money or… anything. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“Well, Diamond is much too classy to state her vulgar motives out loud,” Whitley said. “Since we don’t talk about it, and since we have fun in the meantime, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you deserve someone who-”

“Who what? Loves me for my personality?” Whitley suggested. “Grow up, sister; do you think that Flash Sentry would be interested in you if you didn’t have the face that could launch an Atlesian cruiser?”

“I-”

“Don’t talk about that out loud, I know; it’s the same with us,” Whitley said. “It’s the same with Father and his supporters; it’s the same the world over. Everyone is out for themselves these days.”

“And what kind of damage could these people who are out for themselves do to Atlas if they use Father to gain power?” Weiss asked.

“I’m not worried about that either,” Whitley said. “Atlas will always be Atlas.”

“Klein said the same thing.”

“Klein’s very wise,” Whitley said. “And so am I, it seems.”

“Atlas is only Atlas because people keep it that way,” Weiss insisted. “And even if Atlas does, by good fortune, remain Atlas, what good will that do if the rest of the world has fallen into chaos and ruin in the meantime?”

“Are we supposed to fix all the world’s problems?”

“We’re supposed to not abdicate all responsibility for our fellow men,” Weiss replied.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Whitley said. “Father isn’t going to win. Have you seen the latest polling?”

Weiss had. Father was polling at thirty-two percent, an eminently respectable figure – and well above Robyn Hill’s nineteen – but below Pearl Wistia on forty percent. “The race isn’t over yet,” she said. “Father could still catch up.”

“That’s the spirit, Miss Schnee!” the voice that called from above was high-pitched, seeming to belong to a child. “The race isn’t over, and neither are we! We’re going to fight on and close that gap!”

Weiss looked over her shoulder. The speaker not only sounded like a child but, quite frankly, looked like one too. Although Weiss had known some short girls at Beacon – Ruby and Nora amongst them; and, to be honest, compared to someone like Pyrrha or even Yang, Weiss herself would have placed at the short end of the sale – but this girl was a positive dwarf by comparison. She seemed to have attempted to counter this by dressing in a mature way, wearing a blue waistcoat and skirt over a white shirt and socks, with a blue ribbon tie around her neck, which looked all in all very reminiscent of an Atlas uniform; it didn’t really help to make her look older, not least since it was countered by the curls in which she wore her blue-grey hair and the white ribbon which adored them. Her eyes were scarlet, big and wide as they looked down upon the Schnee siblings from above.

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!” she cried, walking carefully down the stairs with one hand on the rail. “It’s just that when I heard you talking about Mister Schnee’s campaign, I just couldn’t help myself!”

“That’s quite alright,” Weiss said kindly. “Um, forgive me, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I’m Cozy Glow!” Cozy said. “I’m new! I just joined your father’s campaign as an intern.”

“I… see,” Weiss murmured. “You seem a little young to be interning at a campaign for a Council seat.”

“I get that a lot,” Cozy muttered. She rallied, and her voice resumed its usual enthusiastic tone. “But I’m willing to work and ready to go! I’ll do whatever it takes to help elect Jacques Schnee! Building Back for a Better Tomorrow!”

“If you want to close that eight point gap, you might want to consider a better slogan,” Whitley observed dryly.

“It’s under review,” Cozy admitted. She coughed into one hand. “Anyway, Miss Schnee, Mister Schnee asked me to come and get you. He’d like to see you in his office now.”

“I… see,” Weiss said quietly. “I don’t suppose he told you what it was about?”

“Oh no,” Cozy said, as if the very idea was painful to her. “What gets said between you and your father is private and strictly confidential. I would never want to get in the way of your relationship.”

“Mhmm,” Weiss murmured. “Well, thank you, Miss Glow-”

“Please, call me Cozy,” Cozy begged. “I want you to think of me not just as one of your father’s employees, but as a friend to the whole family.”

“Right,” Weiss said softly and without much inflection. She exchanged a glance with Whitley, who shrugged as if to say he didn’t know what to make of this either. “Then thank you, Cozy. Whitley.”

“Good luck,” Whitley said, so quietly he was barely audible.

Weiss nodded to him. Her brother was not perfect – far from it – but then neither was she, and he wasn’t so bad as to deserve her running away in such unseemly haste. She would have to remember that, next time she left.

She still intended that there would be a next time, somehow.

She climbed the stairs and began to walk down the corridor towards Father’s study. Cozy Glow kept pace with her, a bright smile upon her face as she walked.

“I know the way,” Weiss pointed out to her.

“I know,” Cozy replied. “But I should wait outside in case Mister Schnee needs me when you’re done.”

“Mmm,” Weiss murmured. “So… what made you decide that you wanted to intern for my father’s campaign?”

“Oh, I’m here because I believe in Mister Schnee,” Cozy proclaimed.

Weiss couldn’t stop her brow from furrowing. “You do?”

“Golly, yes!” Cozy cried. “Why, he was born to be a leader! If he doesn’t win the Council seat, then this kingdom will be deprived of the talent it needs, and that would be terrible.”

“I see.”

“Can I admit something embarrassing?” Cozy asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Weiss swallowed. “I… suppose so.”

“I’m a little jealous,” Cozy hissed. Her voice rose once again. “I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with such a great man as Jacques Schnee as your father.”

And you should be very grateful for that, Weiss thought, rather bitterly, before reminding herself that it was not Cozy Glow’s fault. She didn’t know what Jacques Schnee was really like and could hardly be held to blame for her admiration of a man who, whatever else he did, always took great care to ensure that his public image was, in fact, admirable. “Um… I mean… it was certainly… it was an experience,” she said, and said nothing else to the young – or young-looking, at least – intern until she stood in front of the door to her father’s study.

Weiss knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Jacques called from the other side.

Weiss opened the door and stepped in. Cozy did not follow but did stick her head around the door long enough to say, “I brought her just like you asked, Mister Schnee.”

“Thank you, Cozy,” Jacques said indulgently. “You can wait outside.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mister Schnee!” Cozy said cheerfully. “I’ll be right here when you need me.”

She shut the door, leaving Weiss alone in the room with her father, who had not yet said a word to her.

Nor did he, at first. Instead, he looked down at something on his desk, as if he wished to make a point of how busy he was and how many important matters commanded his attention.

Weiss took another couple of steps into the study, closer to his desk. “You… wanted to see me, Father?”

“I wouldn’t have sent Cozy to get you if I didn’t,” Jacques replied, still not looking at her.

“She seems very young,” Weiss couldn’t help but point out.

“Hmm? Yes, I thought so too, at first; but she’s very efficient. Does the work of ten other fellows, and full of ideas. She’ll go far, I think.” Jacques looked up. “And I confess, it’s nice to have a young woman in the house whom I can mould into someone talented and successful.”

Weiss didn’t rise to that, although she did allow a touch of impatience to creep into her voice. “What did you want to see me about, Father?”

Jacques paused. “You look nice,” he observed. “Going somewhere?”

“Out with some friends,” Weiss said.

“I see,” Jacques murmured. “No,” he added. “You’re not.”

Weiss frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve decided that I can’t allow you to associate with those friends of yours any longer.”

“Why not?” Weiss demanded.

“Don’t raise your voice with me, young lady,” Jacques snapped.

Weiss flinched. “I… I’m sorry, Father, I just… I don’t understand.”

“I should have thought that the reason was obvious,” Jacques said. “Leaving aside any questions of… suitability, they are all very closely connected with James and his faction: Twilight Sparkle, his goddaughter; Rainbow Dash, his prize protégé; Blake Belladonna, the new rising star. No one can doubt that their allegiance lies with my enemies, and your association makes it seem as though your allegiance lies that way too.”

“I…” Weiss hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not part of your campaign-”

“But you are my daughter,” Jacques reminded her. “If my own daughter doesn’t want me to win the Council seat, then why should anyone else support me?”

“I’m not sure that anyone will read that much into my choice of friends,” Weiss said.

“I disagree,” Jacques said firmly.

Weiss stared down at him. “So… am I a prisoner here?”

“Of course not, sweetheart; young Flash is a fine fellow, and his mother is very closely involved in my campaign,” Jacques said. “You’re free to leave the Manor with him whenever you like.”

“But not on my own,” Weiss said coldly. What was that you were saying, Whitley?

“Not while I can’t trust you not to associate with those people, no,” Jacques said.

Weiss stood silent and still. He… he couldn’t do this, and yet, he just had. He couldn’t keep her here, and yet, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Jacques said. “I have made my decision.”

Behind Weiss, the door creaked open. “Pardon me for interrupting, Mister Schnee,” Cozy said, “but I think you might be making a teensy bit of a mistake.”

Weiss expected her father to scowl; somewhat to her surprise, he did not. “Really, Cozy?” he asked. “And why is that?”

“While it’s true that Twilight Sparkle and her friends are all supporters of General Ironwood and Councillor Cadenza,” Cozy said, “think about what kind of message it sends that you don’t want anyone to associate with them, because if they do, then they become your enemies. You don’t really want to divide Atlas that way, do you? When you win the election like I know you will, you want to be a Councillor for all Atlesians, isn’t that right?”

“Of course,” Jacques declared. “The reason that I’m running is to benefit all Atlesians, to save this kingdom and everyone who lives in it from the incompetence and mismanagement that has marred our great nation.”

“It might not seem that way if we can’t even talk to anybody who might vote for someone else,” Cozy pointed out. “Not to mention that Councillor Cadenza and General Ironwood aren’t up for re-election, so you’ll have to work with both of them when you win, which might be a little bit tricky if you treat everyone associated with them like your mortal enemies. But if we let Miss Schnee lead the way, then she can help be the bridge that brings us all together!”

Jacques leaned back in his chair. “Hmm. You make a very cogent point, Cozy, but there’s still the question of Weiss’ intentions being misinterpreted into seeming as though she doesn’t support my run.”

“I’m sure that’s not true!” Cozy said. “I’m certain that Miss Schnee is behind you just as much as I am, and I’m sure that she’d love to prove it too, wouldn’t you, Miss Schnee, like appearing in Mister Schnee’s next campaign video?”

“Yes,” Jacques murmured. “Yes, that’s a splendid idea, Cozy. Weiss, you and Whitley and even Willow: my loving and devoted family, proof that I understand the importance that family holds to millions of voters, and why I, as their councillor, will be sure to put family first in everything I do.”

“Golly, Mister Schnee, that’s a great idea!” Cozy said. “Isn’t that right, Miss Schnee?”

“Yes,” Weiss said, trying to sound sincere even as she forced the words out of her throat. “That’s a great idea. One that I would be happy to take part in.”

“Why, thank you, sweetheart, that means so much to me,” Jacques declared. “And you know, I think I might have been too harsh earlier. You run along now and have a nice day.”

Weiss bowed her head, and held in the sight of relief. “Thank you, Father.” She turned to go, and it was only by a great effort of will that she didn’t run out of the door before she could change his mind.

As Cozy shut said door, Weiss said, “Thank you. Thank you… so much.”

“It was nothing, Miss Schnee; I’m just I could help.”

“It was a lot more than nothing,” Weiss insisted. “I… I don’t know how to show you how grateful I am.”

Cozy smiled brightly. “You don’t need to do anything for me, Miss Schnee. I’m just here to be of service! From now on, you don’t need to give any of these things another thought. Just let Cozy take care of everything.”

Atlas Will Always Be Atlas

Atlas Will Always Be Atlas

Spring had well and truly sprung, the sky was clear, and thanks to the Atlesian heating grid, the weather was perfect for a picnic in the Park of Serenity. As Rainbow Dash and Applejack wandered through the park, they saw that their friends were not the only ones to have that idea; in fact, the park was positively festooned with blankets draped across the grass, and families and friends were busily unpacking meals from hampers and cooler boxes and such like.

Chatter and laughter filled the air, filling the park with an air of, well, serenity that not even the shadow of a warship hovering overhead could dispel.

It was as if the vessel wasn’t there at all.

“Everyone looks so happy, don’t they?” Rainbow asked.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Applejack observed.

“I don’t,” Rainbow said quickly, lest her friend get the wrong idea. “It’s just… it feels a little weird, you know? You’d think there was nothing going on.”

“Why? Because everyone’s having a picnic?” Applejack asked. “You do recall that we’re on our way to one ourselves, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow said. “I… that’s not it, I mean… okay, maybe it is it, and we’re as guilty as everyone else, but… I don’t know, doesn’t it feel weird, everyone just-”

“Livin’ their lives?” Applejack suggested. “Ain’t that the point? Ain’t that what we’re fightin’ for? Picnics and cupcakes and apple cider and the harvest time and watchin’ the shootin’ stars with your pals and, well, livin’. If that ain’t what this is all about, then what the hell are we fightin’ for? What should all these folks be doin’ on a spring day, instead of this? What should we be doin’?”

“I don’t know, stop asking me so many questions I don’t have the answers to.”

“You’re the one who bought it up, Sugarcube,” Applejack reminded.

“I know, I know,” Rainbow said. She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I guess… so much has happened… but at the same time, it’s like none of it happened.”

It was nearly six months now since the Battle of Vale, and in that time, a historic treaty had been signed with Menagerie, a seat on the Atlesian council had become vacant, there had been a grimm attack on Mantle, a White Fang leader had escaped from maximum security prison with the aid of a disgraced scientist who was probably working for Salem now, and Jacques Schnee had decided to run for said vacant council seat.

And Salem had obtained one of the four relics. Mustn’t forget that one.

Rainbow couldn’t work out whether the fact that – breaking Chrysalis out aside – she hadn’t made any moves against Atlas yet was a good thing or a bad thing. I mean, obviously it was a good thing that they weren’t under attack and everyone was free to enjoy their picnic without a swarm of grimm battering at the shields, but what if it meant that she was up to something and that when she did attack, it was just going to be so much worse for being so well planned?

This stuff could make your head spin so fast it would fly off. There were times when Rainbow missed the days when her biggest problem had been Penny.

Applejack pushed her hat back on her head. “Let’s be fair to all of these folks now, most of them don’t know about half of what’s been goin’ on.”

“I guess,” Rainbow muttered.

Chrysalis’ escape was a secret known to only a select few – like Twilight, on account of Chrysalis swearing revenge against her and all – with most of Atlas none the wiser. Ditto absolutely everything to do with Salem, obviously. In fact, when she thought about it some more, Rainbow realised that from the perspective of most people, the election was the only thing that was going on right now, and the only thing that had happened since the Battle of Vale was the treaty with Menagerie.

Lucky them.

“But what about the Battle of Vale?” Rainbow asked. “That must have been one of the biggest battles since the Great War; people died and-”

“And they ain’t been forgotten,” Applejack said.

“You could have fooled me,” Rainbow replied.

“That ain’t fair, Rainbow Dash,” Applejack replied sternly. “Is the whole city supposed to go around wearing black? Do they have to cry? Or should they just have to look glum enough for your likin’? Everybody grieves in their own way, at their own pace-”

“I know that, and I’m not talking about like Flynt’s folks, or Neon’s,” Rainbow replied. “I’m talking about anyone who put a photo up on These Are My Jewels. I’m talking about-”

“Us, about to have our picnic?” Applejack asked.

Rainbow sighed. “You really don’t feel it? At all?”

“Maybe if you actually talked some sense instead of letting a lot of hooey come out of your mouth, I could understand you long enough to say whether I felt it too or not,” Applejack said.

“Okay, I…” Rainbow stopped in her tracks, halting her step so she could focus on her thoughts. She wanted to get this right so that Applejack would finally understand what she was trying to say, because once Applejack understood, then maybe she could finally find out whether her friend agreed with her or not. “Does it not feel just a little bit as though we’re always having a picnic?”

Applejack was silent for a moment. She took the Stetson off her head and brushed at the brim a little. “Okay, now I think I get you. Sort of. You mean how it’s been six months, and we ain’t done nothing?”

“I know that we have to trust the General,” Rainbow said swiftly. “And I do. I’m sure that whatever he’s cooking up in his office, it’ll be something good when the time comes. But in the meantime, we’ve got most of the fleet sitting overhead, most of the troops pulled back, we’re all just taking odd missions in Mantle or Canterlot or Crystal City, and… what are we really doing? The enemy’s out there, and we’re… what are we doing?”

Applejack sighed as she put the hat back on her head. “I hear you,” she declared. “Sometimes, it feels like we’re hiding in the farmhouse with the beowolf prowling around outside, instead of getting’ our gun and goin’ out there and puttin’ it down. Only…” – her voice dropped – “you and I both know this here beowolf can’t be put down. It ain’t like we can go huntin’ somethin’ that can’t be killed.”

“So we do nothing?”

“So we fight her when she shows herself, and lick her too, just like we did at Vale,” Applejack said. “Only better, so she don’t get her hands on another one of them there relic things next time. My point is, what are we supposed to do when we don’t know what she’s up to?”

“So we’re stuck playing defence?”

“I guess, unless you got a better idea that the General ain’t come up with yet,” Applejack replied.

Rainbow scowled. “You know I don’t.”

“Then maybe try to relax a little and enjoy this picnic,” Applejack said. “Let folks smile while they still got somethin’ to smile about. And remember that half our friends don’t know squat about any of this business.”

“And they can’t know, so I should make sure they don’t have any reason to ask questions.” Rainbow faked a smile, stretching her lips out across her cheeks in a crooked, uneven fashion that stayed well south of her eyes. “How’s that?”

Applejack raised one eyebrow.

Rainbow held the uncanny expression for a moment, before she snorted, and her face collapsed into a more genuine smile. “Just kidding; I’m not that worried. You’re right: the skies are clear in every way, the enemy is a long way off; we should be free to enjoy ourselves while we can.”

“Of course I’m right,” Applejack said. “I’m always right. Which is why y’all should listen to me a darn sight more often than any of y’all do.”

“We do listen to you,” Rainbow replied. Her smile morphed into a grin. “We listen to you say ‘I told you so’ twice a week, even when you never said anything in the first place.”

“I did too say somethin’, every time!” Applejack replied heatedly, her voice rising. She hesitated. “Although… speakin’ of sayin’ somethin’… or sayin’ nothin’, I guess. Can I tell you what’s been botherin’ me a little?”

“You can tell me anything, you know that,” Rainbow said. “What’s up?”

“It’s this whole secrecy thing,” Applejack said. “Knowin’ what I know – what we know, and Twi too – knowin’ all about what’s really goin’ on, and not tellin’ Pinkie or Rarity or Fluttershy? It ain’t sittin’ right with me. Sometimes, I think it’s givin’ me a little twitch in my stomach.”

“Are you sure that’s not just indigestion?” Rainbow asked.

Applejack glared at her.

“Okay, okay, this is serious, I know,” Rainbow said. “You really want to tell them the truth? Tell them everything? You know why we can’t do that.”

“I know why we can’t do it, but that don’t mean that I can’t want to do it,” Applejack replied. “They’re our friends, and I’m keepin’ something from ‘em; we both are. All three of us are.”

“We have our orders,” Rainbow said. “We can’t tell anyone who isn’t cleared to know by General Ironwood.”

“I know, I know,” Applejack said. “Strictly on a need to know basis, and they don’t need to know. I just… don’t it eat you up inside, not bein’ able to say nothin’ to ‘em about all of this? About what’s really goin’ on?”

“No,” Rainbow said.

Applejack took a step backwards; her green eyes widened in surprise. “Well that was blunt, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Okay, that makes the next question 'why don’t it?'”

“Because they don’t need to know,” Rainbow said.

“Who decides who gets to need to know or not?” Applejack asked.

“The General does.”

“The General and the old headmaster of Beacon, Professor Ozpin, you mean,” Applejack said. “Trust me, I get why we can’t tell absolutely everyone that we’ve been keeping a secret this big since goodness only knows when, but… but that don’t make it right to keep the secret. You understand that, right?”

Rainbow folded her arms. “Maybe it would be better if everyone knew. Maybe it wouldn’t. I don’t know. But you want to know why I’m fine with not telling Fluttershy and Pinkie and Rarity all about this?”

“Sure I do, that’s why I asked you.”

“Because you know what they would do if they found out,” Rainbow replied. “You know what they’d do if we told them what we’re involved in, us and Twilight.”

Applejack was silent for a moment. “They’d go get their real huntress training so that they could pitch in right alongside us.”

Rainbow nodded. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Would that be so terrible if they did?” Blake asked.

“Gah!” Rainbow yelled, jumping backwards. “How did you do that?”

“I’ve been standing here for the last seven minutes,” Blake informed them.

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “You have not,” she said. “No way you were standing there and we didn’t notice you.”

Blake stared at her, saying nothing, revealing nothing.

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed yet further until they were mere slits peering out at Blake.

The corner of Blake’s lip twitched ever so slightly.

“Whether you’re that sneaky or we’re just that oblivious, howdy, partner,” Applejack said. “How’s it hanging?”

The twitching corner of Blake’s lip became a full-fledged smile. “It’s okay,” she said. “I got an interesting request this morning.”

“'Request'?” Applejack repeated. “What kind of request?”

“Principal Cinch, from Crystal Prep,” Blake replied. “She wants me to join a mission in Mantle involving some of her former students.”

“And you said no,” Rainbow said.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Blake said.

“Then you oughtta say no right now,” Applejack said. “Trust us, you do not want to go on a mission with the Shadowbolts.”

“The who?”

“Crystal Prep Shadowbolts,” Rainbow explained. “Indigo Zap, Lemon Zest, Sour Sweet, they’ll be the ones that Cinch is talking about. You want to know how your friend Ilia turned out the way she did: stuck in a school with those jerks, that’s how.”

“I don’t like to speak ill of fellow huntresses,” Applejack said, “but those girls are nasty. I’d have a hard time turnin’ my back on ‘em, let alone working with ‘em.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “I’m… surprised,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so… judgemental.”

“Don’t call us judgemental; it makes us sound like we’re the bad guys,” Rainbow said. “Which we’re not,” she added quickly.

“I’m just saying that Combat School was a long time ago,” Blake said. “People change. Have you ever really known them since then? Did you really know them then?”

“We know where they come from,” Rainbow muttered.

“You know where I came from too, but you still gave me a chance,” Blake reminded her. “In the end,” she added.

“That’s completely different.”

“Yes, I’d done actually terrible things that you still managed to look beyond.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rainbow said.

“Then what did you mean?” Blake asked.

“I meant that you’re not a complete jackass!”

“Are you honestly considering this, Sugarcube?” Applejack asked. “You know that Cinch is in deep with Jacques Schnee, right?”

“And Weiss is Jacques Schnee’s daughter, but that isn’t stopping us from having a picnic with her,” Blake pointed out.

Applejack hesitated. “Well, I guess you got a point about that,” she conceded. “What’s the mission, anyway?”

“Classified, something to do with assisting the Mantle police,” Blake said. “Apparently, I’ll be briefed en route if I accept the assignment.”

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “You’ve been asked to take a mission you don’t know what, in Mantle, with the Shadowbolts.”

“Yes,” Blake said.

“And you’re considering this?”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m considering it.”

“Why?” Rainbow demanded. “Tell Cinch no and be done with it.”

“Because for whatever reason, she was willing to reach out to me,” Blake said. “I don’t think that I ought to reward that by spitting on her hand. Aren’t we all supposed to be one team? A sorority of sisters?”

“Don’t mean we all got to like each other,” Applejack muttered.

“But it does mean that we have to work together,” Blake said. “And it’s not like General Ironwood has even endorsed a candidate; his position is non-partisan, like that of the military.”

“Publicly,” Rainbow accepted. “But everyone knows-”

“Not everyone knows that there are bigger issues at stake than this election,” Blake replied. “We can’t let this election divide huntsmen and huntresses into camps based on who voted for who or who plans to vote for who, and certainly not based on where you went to combat school.”

Applejack snorted. “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” she observed.

Blake paused for a moment, before she too let out a snort in turn, “Apparently I have,” she agreed. “It seems I have a habit of making my decisions without it really sinking in.”

Rainbow scowled. “I don’t like this,” she said firmly. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Even if they haven’t changed, I can handle a few brats,” Blake insisted. “Haven’t I faced much worse by now? Haven’t we all?”

“Nobody thinks you can’t take it, but we wouldn’t be your friends unless we wanted to spare you that, if we could,” Applejack declared.

“Hmm,” Blake murmured.

“What?” Rainbow demanded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What was that ‘hmm’?” Rainbow insisted. “It was like you didn’t agree or something.”

Blake winced ever so slightly and reached up to scratch at her ear. “Well… I’m not saying this as a criticism, but-”

“But you’re about to criticise us anyways,” Applejack guessed.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Blake said. “You are two of the most loyal, faithful people that I have ever met, and I am honoured to call you both my friends, but… do you not ever think that maybe the two of you are a little… overprotective?”

Rainbow and Applejack looked at one another.

“'Overprotective'?” Applejack repeated in disbelief. “We ain’t overprotective!”

Blake raised her eyebrows. “Neither of you want me to go on a mission with the Shadowbolts, apparently because you’re afraid they’ll bully me, and I just heard you” – she pointed at Rainbow Dash – “talking about how it’s okay to lie to your friends because otherwise they might want to step up and do their part to help protect the world.”

“You think that we ought to tell them?” Rainbow asked. “Pinkie and Rarity and Fluttershy?”

“I didn’t say that, and it’s not our call to make,” Blake answered swiftly. “But I think that you ought to feel less at ease about it than you do and not have those reasons for it.”

“What’s wrong with my reasons?” squawked Rainbow Dash.

“What’s wrong with your friends standing alongside you?” Blake shot back.

“It’s dangerous!” Rainbow cried. “You know that. You both know that. It’s dangerous work, and not everyone is cut out for it.”

“I’m not sure that I know that,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow frowned. “Now I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jaune,” Blake said. “Someone who had no skills, no training, no natural aptitude for the work or life of a huntsman; if there was any congenital talent passed down through his bloodline, it had completely failed to manifest in him, and yet, he became not only a reasonable huntsman in his own right but also an integral member of the best freshman team at Beacon, maybe the best team period. Surely, he stands as living proof that-”

“Anyone can be a hero?” Rainbow guessed.

“That you don’t need to be a hero to do your part,” Blake finished. “All you need is courage and commitment.”

“And an insane amount of aura and Pyrrha Nikos watching your back, two things Jaune had which no one else does,” Rainbow retorted. “Take those things away, and then tell me how Jaune would have done.”

“My point is that your friends are starting from a better position than he was, so why are you so-”

“Because I don’t want them to die, isn’t that enough?” Rainbow demanded.

“Who are you to say whether they can or cannot put their lives on the line for a cause, if they think it warrants it?” Blake said, her voice rising.

“If they wanted it that bad, they’d have done it already,” Applejack interjected. “You really think that we could have stopped ‘em if their minds were really set on it?” She chuckled. “Sugarcube, you still got a lot to learn about us if you think that we can make Rarity or Fluttershy or even Pinkie Pie do anythin’. What we did, what we said… it was just givin’ ‘em a nudge in the direction their hearts always wanted to go in anyways, so that they could walk down that road without feeling guilty about it.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. She regarded Applejack keenly, and when she spoke again, her voice carried a note of scepticism about it. “And now? What about Rarity training with Weiss?”

“The fact that we ain’t put a stop to that kinda disproves your whole point, don’t you think?” Applejack suggested.

Blake was silent for a moment. “Possibly,” she conceded. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you would stop it, if you could, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Rainbow said without missing a beat.

Applejack smiled wistfully and shook her head a little as though there were something strange about Rainbow’s response or how quick she’d been to offer it.

“Why not?” Blake asked.

“Because it’s not what they want,” Rainbow said quietly.

“I suppose it isn’t,” Blake agreed. She looked back at Applejack, “But it’s not what you want either, is it?”

Applejack shrugged. “Not really, no.”

“Then what’s the difference?”

“Because someone has to do it,” Applejack said. “And if you take everyone off the line who didn’t love the fighting, you’d end up with… well,” she jerked her thumb towards Rainbow Dash. “But how about I ask you the question for a change?”

“Go ahead,” Blake responded.

“Why do you want them to fight so much?”

“I don’t,” Blake said. “I just want them to be able to make their own choices-”

“They have,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Perhaps,” Blake acknowledged. She paused. “And I suppose… with everything that’s going on, don’t we need as many people as possible in the fight? Don’t we need everyone in the fight, if possible?”

“If everyone fights, what are they fighting for?” Rainbow asked.

“Life?” Blake suggested. “I know that doesn’t seem like such a good answer, but these aren’t normal times. If Salem gains the relics, then what good are dresses or cupcakes going to be?”

“What good are they ever?” Rainbow replied. She hesitated. “Don’t tell Pinkie or Rarity I said that, will you?”

Blake smirked. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Rainbow Dash! Applejack! Oh, hey, Blake!”

“Pinkie!” Rainbow cried, turning to see their friend bounding towards them across the park.

Pinkie beamed, leaping through the air towards Rainbow with arms outstretched and a cry of, “Whee!”

Rainbow caught her with both hands, but that wasn’t enough to stop her from being bowled over by the force of Pinkie’s impact, knocked flat on her back onto the ground with Pinkie on top of her. She smiled. “Hi, Pinkie.”

Pinkie giggled. “Hey, Rainbow Dash.” She leapt up, backflipping to stand on her hands and head for a moment before performing a second backflip to put herself back up on her feet, arms spread out on either side of her. “Hey, girls.”

“Hello, Pinkie,” Blake said. “How are things?”

“Things,” Pinkie said. “Are getting cold while we wait for you three!” She swept her finger imperiously across the group. “Everyone else is already waiting for you!”

“Sorry, Pinkie,” Rainbow said as she picked herself up off the floor. “We just got… caught up in talking about some stuff.”

“Ooh, what kind of things?” Pinkie asked.

“It doesn’t-” Rainbow began.

“Pinkie,” Blake interrupted. “Do you ever think about maybe using your combat school training? Do you ever think about becoming a huntress?”

Rainbow sucked in a sharp intake of breath. The worst part was that she couldn’t even say anything right now because she’d already told Blake that Pinkie and the others were free to make their own choices without interference. That made it very difficult to interfere.

Even if she kind of wanted to.

She was not overprotective. She was at a perfectly reasonable level of protectiveness towards people who, for all that they were the best people she knew, needed a little protection. And there was nothing wrong with that! Not everyone had to be an awesome badass, Blake! Some people were sweet and funny and should not be asked to fight monsters.

Rainbow bit her lip, to keep herself from saying so.

“Hmm,” Pinkie mused, cupping her chin with one hand. “Eh… no. I can’t say that I have.”

Blake blinked. “No. You’ve never even considered?”

“Not really.”

“Then what did you go to combat school for?”

“It felt like a good idea at the time,” Pinkie replied. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all, Sugarcube,” Applejack assured. “Blake’s just still got a few things to learn about the lay of the land here in Atlas.”

“It’s not that,” Blake said firmly. “Or… maybe it is. It’s just that, with the monsters at the gates, when we live in islands of light while outside it grows dark, don’t you think-?”

“That there are more important things than cupcakes and parties?” Pinkie asked. “Or that there should be?”

Blake looked a little ashamed, bowing her head as she said, “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Pinkie giggled, as though she found the very idea that Blake could insult her to be funny. She was still laughing lightly as she put one around Blake’s neck and the other around Rainbow Dash and swiftly drew them both in with a grip that was firm if not quite tight.

Okay, it was a little tight, but Rainbow wasn’t going to tell Pinkie.

She probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.

“Come on, girls,” she said, pushing them inexorably onwards while Applejack walked by their side. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting, huh? Better hurry before it all gets cold.”

“Isn’t picnic food already cold?” Blake pointed out.

“Most of it,” Pinkie accepted. “But the tea isn’t.”

“Ah, of course,” Blake murmured.

Pinkie led them through the park, to where their friends were gathered around a chequered red and white blanket. Pinkie was right; they were the last to arrive: Rarity, wearing some sort of silver-white gown that spread out all around her, with a broad-brimmed hat with a lavender bow tied around it, took up one corner of the blanket all by herself; Twilight and Weiss sat side by side, while Fluttershy sat across from Rarity. One of the advantages of the election and the fact Cinch was backing Jacques Schnee was that Sugarcoat had been removed from Twilight's guard detail; now, the members of Team TSSM rotated through protecting her in case Chrysalis came back and tried anything, and today, it was Starlight Glimmer who cast a welcome shadow over the group as she stood behind Twilight.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather sit down?" Twilight urged.

"I'm not here as your friend, Twilight, but as your protector," Starlight replied. "My orders are to guard you, not to join in your fun."

Twilight pouted. "Will you at least eat something? Even if you do look ridiculous, at least we won't have to feel quite so guilty about you missing out."

Starlight hesitated. "I don't know…"

"If you mimic my semblance, you won't even have to use your hands," Twilight pointed out, holding out her hand in turn.

Starlight smiled. "Alright then," she agreed, taking Twilight's hand. There was a ripple of turquoise light across Starlight's palm and up her wrist before she released Twilight from her grasp. "Thanks, Twilight," she added as she levitated an angel cake up towards her waiting mouth with telekinesis.

Rarity, meanwhile, was the first to spot the four girls coming. "Darlings, there you are!" she cried. "We were all wondering what in Atlas could have become of you. You know it's terribly bad manners to keep friends waiting like that. And not even a call to say what was holding you up."

Rainbow scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. "Sorry, Rarity, we just got to… I guess we-"

"Blake wanted to know if I'd ever thought about becoming a huntress!" Pinkie proclaimed, as she leapt down onto the ground beside Fluttershy. One hand whipped out to grab a doughnut, which disappeared whole into Pinkie's gaping maw.

Twilight pushed her spectacles up her nose. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"I don't think it's an unreasonable question," Weiss said. "Obviously, not everybody has to become a huntress, but you did all attend combat school."

"I know that you all had your reasons for doing so," Blake said, as she sat down at the north edge of the picnic blanket. "I just wondered if, in the current circumstances, you thought that things had changed since you made your initial plans."

"Obviously, I have come to that conclusion," Rarity drawled, raising a china teacup to her lips and taking a dainty sip from it. "But then, my reasons were always the most shallow of any of us here."

"Nobody here thinks that you're shallow, Rarity," Twilight said.

"Goodness, Twilight, I didn't say that I was shallow!" Rarity exclaimed. "Heavens no! I said it was my reasons for going to Canterlot that were shallow: the idea that it would make me more impressive at soirées and dinner parties if I could say 'oh, yes, I went to combat school, you know; I fight with a rapier, in the main – classically trained, of course – although I also have some skill with a bow.'" She chuckled. "Seems rather silly now, I must say."

"It… isn't the reason most people go to combat school," Rainbow conceded. "But that doesn't make it wrong. And it is pretty cool to know how to defend yourself, but-" She caught Blake looking at her, and thus refrained from adding that, in her opinion, that didn't mean there was anything wrong with hoping that you never had to do it.

"But… but go on," she concluded feebly.

Rarity smiled. "Very kind of you, dear, but with the world as it is, with so many brave souls having made… the ultimate sacrifice… I don't know if I can justify having swindled the kingdom out of the cost of my training like that any more." She glanced at Applejack. "And to be frank, darling, I'm not sure how I could look Apple Bloom in the eye again if you perished in some dark forsaken place defending us all and I wasn't doing my part as well. To which you may well ask, Blake, how come this never occurred to me before, and I'm afraid all I can say in reply is that after all that beastliness in Vale, the world seems a much more violent place than it did before, and much more in need of protection."

"Oh, I don't know," Fluttershy whispered. "I mean, what happened in Vale was awful, but it doesn't change the fact that humanity is a bigger threat to the habitats of a lot of living creatures than the grimm are. We can't be so selfish as to only think about our own survival; we have to continue caring for all the other living things as well. And besides, I'm not sure that I could bring myself to kill anybody or anything, not even something that everyone called a monster. I don't think someone with that kind of attitude would be a very good huntress."

Pinkie frowned. "Do you guys really think that things are that bad?"

"Don't you?" Weiss asked. "The CCT is still down; the news from Vale and Mistral, garbled as it is, isn't good… I couldn't tell you why it's decided to happen now, but it feels like the era of peace has come to an end." She smiled. "Or perhaps I'm just a little jealous of you, Rarity, getting the chance to play your part."

"I get that some rough stuff has happened," Pinkie said. "But things will work out. They always do, right?"

"Because Atlas will always be Atlas?" Weiss asked.

"Weiss?" Twilight asked.

"Just something that I've heard a couple of times today," Weiss replied. "It would be very comforting to believe it, but… I'm not sure that I do."

"I do," Rainbow said.

"Oh, really?" Blake said. "Didn't I hear you complaining that there wasn't enough being done?"

"How long were you standing there without saying anything?" Rainbow demanded.

"Seven minutes, like I said," replied Blake, in a casual tone.

"Okay, yes, I would like to be doing something, and I don't like feeling that we're sitting up here on a cloud just waiting with our eyes closed while… while who knows what is going on down below. But I don't think it will last. We're going to build a new tower on Menagerie and get the network up and running, and General Ironwood is going to come up with a plan, and we're going to come back, and we're going to kick ass twice as hard because Atlas will always be Atlas, and that means that we'll always bring the fight anywhere we have to."

Weiss smiled slightly, and a little sadly too, weirdly enough. "I wish I shared your confidence," she murmured.

"Why don't you share my confidence?" Rainbow asked.

"Who does?" Starlight interjected, a playful smile on her face.

Rainbow chuckled. "Good point."

Weiss shook her head. "I can't be the only person who feels that… we can be dangerously complacent in this kingdom. Yes, we have a lot of advantages, we have martial might and superior technology, but I'm sure that people in Vale thought that Vale would always be Vale too."

"We're not Vale," Rainbow insisted.

"But that doesn't mean Weiss doesn't have a point," Blake murmured.

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "Are you admitting that Atlas might be flawed? Twilight, start recording this!"

A chagrined expression blossomed upon Blake's face. "I stand by my decision to come here and serve in the Atlas military; I still admire it as much as I came to do back at Beacon, and I stand by everything that I've said in praise of it. But Weiss, Twilight, when we were at that party after the concert, when Weiss's father announced that he was running for Council… there were so many people in that room… it was as if they were blind to the world beyond the drop-off, as if they're trapped in a bubble, knowing nothing and caring less about the rest of Remnant. As if they were set apart from the rest of Remnant, protected from the problems that afflict other kingdoms but have nothing to do with them."

"Of course they think that, they're rich," Weiss said. "That's what being rich means: that you can ignore the problems the other people have to deal with because they don't affect you. You can breeze through life in a vast carelessness, and you don't even have to look down." She sighed. "But, yes, Blake, you're right: there is a lot of complacency in some parts of Atlas, even in some people that I love very much."

"It could be worse," Starlight opined. "They could be living in perpetual terror and be right to do so. Surely, a little complacency – and the genuine safety on which that complacency rests – is better than the alternative?"

"I'm sure you're right," Weiss accepted. "I suppose, when you feel as if you're standing under a snow-covered glacier with nobody else around, you can even consider that there might be an avalanche… it's sometimes hard to remember that that's, on the whole, a good thing." She paused. "And maybe you're right. Maybe Atlas will always be Atlas. I suppose that, as much as I might complain, I hope you are right… because the alternative is almost too terrible to contemplate."

General Ironwood stood in his office, looking out of the window across the city. From this lofty place, he could, if he looked down, see the bustling city that seemed so far away below him, while if he looked up, he could see his airships filling the skies over Atlas, from the stately cruisers which hovered in place to the nimbler fighters and transports that gambolled between them.

His fleet. His forces. The finest instrument of war ever fashioned in the history of Remnant.

Not enough.

Ironwoood clasped his hands more tightly behind him. The Battle of Vale was acclaimed a victory, his victory. A triumph to rank alongside Ozpin's Stand, an achievement to take its place in the annals of the Atlesian forces. And yet, it did not elate him.

His troops deserved all the praise they had received and more. They had fought a great fight and vindicated every ounce of Ironwood's faith in their courage and constancy. Salem had come at them with the worst of Qrow's dire predictions, and his gallant girls and boys had shocked her, just as Soleil had promised they would. The children who had survived a baptism of fire far crueler than they deserved were entitled to rest upon their laurels, to brag and boast, to account themselves the masters of the field and the victors of the day.

And yet…

And yet, Ironwood could not share in their elation, though he would not begrudge them it. For himself, the cost hung heavier in his mind than the triumph did: Beacon Tower destroyed and with it, the CCT network; Ozpin dead; to say nothing of the losses in men and materiel. Another victory like that would be the ruin of them.

They had saved Vale, true. That fact alone justified the sacrifices made to achieve it, but… but nevertheless, he was haunted by the cost.

Ironwood was convinced that the only thing that could have felt worse than winning the Battle of Vale did would have been to lose it.

And it had been close, damned close, too close by half. If Penny hadn't been able to kill the dragon, then nothing else would have. It had already shrugged off the best shots of his ships and fighters without injury. Without Penny, it would have been free to rampage through his forces, smash his fleet, slaughter his troops, spread grimm and terror across Vale with impunity, make its roost in the ruins of the Emerald Tower and still be there today for all that could be done to dislodge it. The very fact that Penny had been all that stood between them and disaster, and that without her, all the rest of their valour and resolve would have come to nought… it chilled him.

And now, he was blind. Until the new tower in Menagerie was up and running, communications with Vale and Mistral were limited to sending messengers, as had been done in the old days before the CCT, and no messengers had come from either kingdom, while what news flowed in through informal sources was both garbled and not good. Meanwhile, if Ironwood wanted to issue orders to Cordovin at Argus, that now involved sending Winter Schnee to Argus by airship to deliver Cordovin a letter, while Ironwood had to wait for Winter to return before he got confirmation that Cordovin had received said letter and followed his order.

It was for that reason that Ironwood was keeping all his strength bar the Argus garrison at home in Solitas; at least there, he could actually talk to his captains and field commanders.

But at the same time, it had left Atlas powerless to influence events going on in the rest of Remnant. Ironwood would have been powerless to influence them in any event, without communications, but for the sake of control, he had turned Atlas into a kind of turtle huddling inside its shell, or a hedgehog curled up into a ball.

It was the best decision of the unenviable choices open to him with the CCT down, but that didn't mean it was a good choice.

He had no idea what Salem was doing out there, no idea what evil she was brewing in the world while he stood here, blind and impotent, waiting for… for what?

For something he could not put a name to. Something he might not even recognise when it arrived. Something that would, if not change the game, at the very least show him a way forward.

He was building up his forces, but to what end? Newer and more powerful ships were being laid down in the yards, but where would he send them once they were complete? He had fine men and women under his command, but what was he supposed to do with them?

How was he supposed to make decisions when he didn't know what was going on?

And so he waited.

And so they waited, huddled around the light while the darkness set in around them, waiting… for what? What was he waiting for? What was he hoping would turn up? For the CCT? For information? Or was he simply hoping that something would show up to point the way forward?

The beeping sound from his desk indicated an incoming message.

Ironwood turned away, from the window and from his musings both alike, and returned to his desk. "This is Ironwood."

"General, this is Air Traffic Control; we've picked up a small airship on approach. They claim to be carrying an envoy from the Mistral Council; they're requesting clearance to land."

An envoy from Mistral? Now? Could it be? Who would claim something like that when it wasn't true? "Clear them to land. Inform me of their assigned docking bay."

"Yes sir." The other end of the line went quiet for a moment. "They've been ordered to proceed to bay Omega Twelve, sir."

"Understood. Good work. Ironwood out." Ironwood cut off the line before he began to walk towards the door. He didn't know who was waiting on that airship or why they had come, but he knew that there was at least a chance that this was what he had been waiting for, a chance to get things moving.

Maybe, finally, they could start to move.

Points of Departure

Points of Departure

The air was bitter cold.

Or perhaps it was just his mood of late.

Turnus Rutulus stood on the docking pad, swathed in a blue cloak with a bearskin collar that tickled at his neck. Behind him, an airship waited to carry him north to Atlas.

North. Atlas. Not too long ago, he would have rejoiced to have been setting off upon this journey. This had been his plan, his cause, his dream: to revive the old alliance between the north and the east, the grand alliance that had made Remnant tremble during the Great War, to reforge the bonds that had been allowed to weaken during the era of peace and together set forth in arms across the sea to Sanus once again. Mistralian valour, harnessed to Atlesian technology, would sweep aside all opposition in the wild lands east of the mountains, expanding Mistral’s territory to encompass all that for which the Great War had been fought. The stain of defeat would be wiped clean, honour long tarnished would be satisfied once more, and many hardy barbarians would be brought under Mistralian rule to strengthen their arms and fill their ranks. Because that conquest had been but the start of his ambitions. He would have seen the glory of Mistral reborn, this ancient kingdom roused from its decrepitude to renew itself along the lines of its northern neighbour, with an army built on the Atlesian model raised from amongst the bandits who had taken the Council’s pardon and from amongst their new subjects in the west.

Turnus admired Atlas; he had been formed more by the years that he had spent there than by any other time in his life. He admired their discipline, their order, their lack of sentimental weakness, all things which he had believed Mistral could learn from the northmen.

Gross hypocrisy, of course. He was as sentimental a man as any in Mistral, and just as weakened by his sentiment.

As he had discovered, when the walls came down around his ears.

This should have been a good day. A great day. This should have been the first step upon the road that would make him King of Mistral. At the very least, he should have been able to take pride in the honour done to him by the Council, to be their envoy to Atlas, to put their case before the great men of the north kingdom, to have charge of that which he had dreamed of.

Today was not a good day. Today, he tasted no fruits of triumph but only bitter ashes, and all the ambitions that he had once held seemed to mock him.

He had been a fool.

He had been the greatest fool in Mistral, a city not short of well-born fools who counted the names of their ancestors dearer than the names of their sons.

He had thought himself so much better than them, so much wiser, so much more clear-sighted and more far-sighted, able to see what they could not: that Mistral was dying and in urgent need of change, that things could not go on as they were, that their once-mighty empire was becoming a mere tourist attraction.

He had thought himself so wise, so great, so grand that he had presumed to dream on sovereignty, fancying himself the man best suited to lead Mistral into a new golden age.

And yet, he had been the greatest fool of all.

He had let his ambitions and desires blind him to so much, blind him to what really mattered… until it was too late.

He had been so preoccupied with his pursuit of Pyrrha, brooding upon her rejection of him, that he had completely overlooked the far more lustrous gem by his side, as she always had been.

And in his ambition, in his lust for power, he had invited evil into his house, forgetting that ten thousand crowns were not as much as his family.

Forgetting… until it was too late.

Now the life of Juturna, his beloved little sister, lay in the hands of Doctor Watts and Chrysalis, servants of Salem, and since they held Juturna’s life in their hands, they thus held their hands around his throat. He was not the lord of the House of Rutulus now; he was a mere puppet to their will, and it was by their will and as their puppet that he set out for Atlas on this day when the air seemed so bitter cold.

He was not merely to speak of an alliance before the Council, but also to give messages to certain of Doctor Watts’ friends in Atlas, as though he were a mere errand boy.

So long as Juturna lived or died upon their kindness, he would be their errand boy, or anything else they asked of him.

They had him bound in a cage, one which he had fashioned by his own hand when he invited these villains into his home and let them get close to Juturna.

A cage from which he could not escape. A cage from which he might even be forced to hinder efforts to free him. Pyrrha Nikos knew of his plight, and for all that she had the right to turn her back on him in disgust, to punish him for his actions towards her, nevertheless, she had shown him a kindness that he scarcely deserved. She might, even now, be working against Salem’s agents within Mistral; doubtless she was, in some fashion, for she was sworn to oppose the designs of this Salem, whatever they might be. He wished her luck and every success, and yet, if it came to it, if Chrysalis and Doctor Watts commanded him to take up arms against her, then… then he would do it. Because the alternative was to condemn his sister to a slow death, and that… that he did not have it in him to do.

I am too much a man of Mistral in the end; I am a very poor Atlesian; in fact, I am no Atlesian at all. In the north, I daresay they would not hesitate to sacrifice their sisters to the greater good of Atlas, but I cannot.

He did not come by that conclusion idly. During his time working for the SDC, he had been given the opportunity to observe the great Jacques Schnee, that titan of Atlesian prosperity, and there was not a doubt in Turnus’ mind that that great man would never let his family stand in the way of doing what was best for Atlas.

Unfortunately, Turnus did not have such strength in him. He cared too much, for Juturna and Camilla both, and for their sakes, he would bring down all of Mistral if that was what his new master and mistress commanded.

He would sooner cut out their hearts and roast them on an open fire, but vague dreams of revenge would not keep Juturna alive.

Ambition, after all, had gotten him into this mess.

He would go, and he would do as he had been instructed, and he would not say another word, not to General Ironwood nor any of the other Councillors nor anyone else.

He would trust to Pyrrha for his salvation and not dare do anything in Atlas that might reach the ears of Doctor Watts and bring his wrath down on Juturna.

I have been a fool, but I will be wiser now. I will be quiet and obedient, and I will be the best and meekest servant that they have ever known until Juturna is safe or… until Juturna is safe.

Then… I cannot let myself think of then. I dare not dream too far, not now. There is too much at stake for that.

A crowd had gathered at the edge of the docking pad to see him off: the captains and the Councillors, and beyond them, the lords and burghers and the ordinary folk of Mistral, curious and uncertain as to his mission.

They knew where he was going, of course – it was well known that he left for Atlas to seek aid for embattled Mistral – but what was not so well known was what was intended of that aid once it had been secured.

The last time Mistral and the north had joined in sacred alliance, they had brought war to Remnant on a scale unseen before or since. Now, things were uncertain enough that it no longer seemed ridiculous that such a thing could occur again.

Mistral had come to watch him set out for the north, wary of what he would bring back with him.

Turnus watched them all, his gaze flying over those who had come to see him leave, and cursed himself that it was only when he himself was full of fears and misgivings that he could recognise the fears and misgivings of others. Even if he had been setting out in happier times, the mood of those watching him go would have been just as wary of his quest. It was only now that he could recognise their mood because it seemed more the mirror of his own.

Pyrrha was right; with their existing territory embattled by the grimm and by bandits, it had been foolish to dream of expansion and further conquest, and downright criminal to think that he could climb to the throne by hamstringing the defence of the lands which they already held.

I should have defended the kingdom to win the throne, not left it defenceless. If I had stepped forward, would they have hailed me in the streets as they hail Pyrrha?

Perhaps, for I would have shown myself worthy to be so acclaimed.

Ah, well. Too late for that now. Too late for aught but regrets.

Regrets. At least I have plenty of those to keep me company upon my flight.

The airship was waiting for him. He would fly to Atlas aboard an air yacht, the Jade Princess, which he had chartered for the purpose. It was a sleek vessel, fashioned like a sailing ship, with wood panelled over the sweeping lines of the curved hull and unnecessary sails and mast rising above it for no reason but decoration. Wings fore and aft of the open boarding hatch on the side of the hull waited to lift the vessel into the air, while within, a fully furnished cabin, galley, and every luxury and comfort for an air voyage waited to receive him. The upper deck was open, in case he wished to walk amongst the clouds, while only the presence of a main gun forward in a barbette mounting and a modest battery of three guns apiece port and starboard upon the deck showed that this might not be an entirely pleasant voyage.

It was for that reason that the crew of eight men had been augmented by a further ten of his own troopers of Rutulian Security. Not his best ten men – those remained behind, with Camilla – but his second best ten men, to be sure.

If he did not reach Atlas, then he did not trust Chrysalis or Doctor Watts to be merciful simply because he had been killed by pirates or by grimm.

The airship reminded him a little of the Tiger Bright, his father’s yacht; Turnus’ father had bought the vessel – or rather, had had it built precisely to his specifications – to take his lady mother on their honeymoon, and afterwards, they had used it many times for vacations. His father had not been a man for grand ceremony and ostentatious display; not for him the finest hotels in Anima, no, nothing had pleased him better than to take the Tiger Bright to Kaledonia, or Thrace, or sometimes even across the sea to Solitas or Vale, to set her down in some quiet, secluded spot and spend the time immersed in nature, just the four of them: Father, Turnus, Juturna, and Camilla. It had been like camping, but comfortable. Some of his happiest memories were bound up with the tiger-striped yacht: his father puttering around in the galley, a lord of Mistral cooking for his own children, or else them making a fire outside as if they really were on a camping trip; hunting deer in the woods of Thrace; fishing on the coast of Kaledon.

That was why he had sold the yacht after his father died; it had too many memories for him to keep it.

He wondered how he looked, standing here upon the docking pad, lingering while Mistral waited for him to depart. He knew what he looked like; he could control that with his semblance; it could make him seem larger and mightier than he was, or smaller and weaker. It was the latter guise that he put on now; all those who watched him saw a wan, slight youth, pitiable in his weakness. Like the chill of the air, it matched his mood.

They were waiting for him, but he could not go just yet.

He had bidden farewell to Camilla and Juturna twice already, once inside his house and once at the gate of the estate, but now, he walked towards them to bid farewell a third time. They stood amongst the forefront of those gathered to see him off; Camilla stood with one arm wrapped tightly around Juturna’s shoulders, while Juturna had said shoulders hunched and her head bowed ever so slightly. Doctor Watts had provided some medicine for his own disease, enough to keep the worst effects at bay, but nevertheless, Juturna looked paler than normal, and she shivered despite the heavy blue coat in which she’d wrapped herself.

Turnus walked towards them both, ignoring all others, his eyes only upon the two of them, those whom he had realised far too late meant everything to him.

Camilla looked a little surprised to see him approach, although she let only that slight shock show upon her fair face. A part of him, and the fact that it was the same part which reproached him most bitterly for all his prior mistakes made him wonder if he ought to pay more attention to it, told him that it was a mistake not to have married her before he left, in case this dance upon the daggers in which he found himself claimed his life. If he died, then as the Lady Rutulus, she would have a life interest in his estate, its lands and incomes; she would be provided for beyond all want or need.

And if he did not die, then she would be his, to have and hold and love beyond all doubt.

But it would have been a hasty marriage, thrown together slapdash like two children joining hands in defiance of their parents, flying from Mistralian law to wed in secret. Turnus did not wish that. Camilla meant too much to him, and for that reason, she did not even wear his mother’s ring upon her finger. They would announce their engagement in happier times, when the clouds had been banished from the sky, and they might celebrate with the most lavish party that had ever been seen in Mistral since the Great War and have the grandest wedding the city had beheld in all that time besides.

And if he perished before that happy day arrived, well… he had made a will before he set out, and lodged it with the Holy Virgins: he named Camilla as Juturna’s guardian, with absolute power to order the estate as she would upon his sister’s behalf, and she inherited Rutulian Security entire in her own right. She would be financially secure, and she would protect Juturna, he had no doubt.

He reached them both and found that… he knew not what to say.

Instead, it was Camilla who spoke. “Return soon,” she begged. “And return safe.”

Turnus reached out, one hand emerging from out of his cloak, to take her hand and raise it to his lips. “I will do my utmost to oblige you, in this… and in all other things hereafter.”

Juturna broke free of Camilla’s grasp and flung her arms around him, her whole body trembling as he clung to him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m so, so sorry. I… I’ve ruined everything haven’t I?”

“No,” Turnus declared firmly, fiercely, as he bent down and kissed her upon the forehead, wrapping arm around his little sister in turn. “No, Juturna, this is not your fault. As I am your brother and your lord, the fault is mine. The fault is always mine.” He should have told Juturna to leave off politics and planning, for she had no head for it. He should have told Chrysalis and Doctor Watts to get themselves gone from his door and fie on any promises made by his little sister to their mistress. He should have left Lionheart to the mercy of fortune. He should have… he should have protected his family. He should have understood his father better.

“Protect her,” he whispered to Camilla.

“Until the moon is whole again,” Camilla declared, and then she stepped forward, throwing her arms around them both, and kissed him full upon the lips in spite of all those watching.

Turnus managed to smile. “The memory of that kiss will warm me, even in the heart of Solitas.”

Camilla smiled, though it was a smile touched by melancholy like a flower caught in a sudden frost, fitting for their situation.

Gods of Mistral, if there is any mercy in your heart, then let the summer come again for us; let me see them smile in joy once more. Let me see my son grow tall and laugh that he is blind to the affection of she who loves him best. Let us live in love and happiness.

Have mercy, I beg, upon my follies.

Turnus felt his eyes begin to fill with tears as he stepped back from them. He said not a word to anyone else, not to the Steward or to the Lady Terri-Belle, the Warden of the White Tower, nor even to Pyrrha Nikos upon whom all the hopes of Mistral rested. But, as he turned away, he caught Pyrrha’s eyes. Her expression was grim, as well it might be in the circumstances, and yet as he looked at her, she planted her fist over her heart and bowed to him, halfway from the waist.

Turnus returned the gesture, touching his chest with his own fist and bowing in turn.

He reached the airship. Perhaps he ought to have made a speech before he set off on his grand adventure, but there were no words; he could not conjure for the crowd with hope that was extinguished in his own heart. And so he leapt aboard, his cloak billowing about him a little, and to the captain, he murmured, “Cast off, as swiftly as you may, but… leave the doors open, for a while at least.”

He stood at the doorway as the engines whirred and hummed and the wings of the yacht began to beat and the crew moved up and down behind him at their tasks. He stayed behind, at the doorway, one hand upon the hull, his eyes fixed upon Camilla and Juturna as he was borne aloft and far away.

Away from them.

“Can you still see him?” Juturna asked.

“I can see the ship,” Camilla replied. “But not Turnus; they have shut the door.”

Juturna nodded. “Tell me when you can’t see the ship any more.”

“I shall,” Camilla said softly.

They were alone on the docking pad now; all others had departed. As well they might, for Turnus was gone, and there was nothing more to see. Except for Camilla; her semblance gave her far-sight; when she chose, she could see further and more keenly than any other eyes in Mistral. It was why she was such a good shot. And it was she and Juturna lingered here alone, because she could yet see Turnus, and neither of them wished to go until she could no longer do so.

“Turnus was wrong,” Juturna murmured. “It isn’t his fault; it’s mine.”

Camilla hugged Juturna tighter still. “It matters not whose fault it was,” she insisted. She was inclined to blame herself; she had known, she had felt in her gut that these envoys of Salem meant no good, and yet, she had done nothing to protect the only family she had in the world. Turnus’ father had rescued her from bondage, given her a home, treated her as his own daughter, and she had repaid his memory with lax watch and carelessness. She ought to have slit the throats of Doctor Watts and Chrysalis – and Lionheart, too – while they slept and trusted that Turnus loved her well enough to forgive her for it.

I slaughtered my way through the underworld of this city to avenge Lord Rutulus when he died; why did I not slaughter to protect those who yet lived?

Too late now. All she could do was wait and watch as Turnus’ airship passed further and further away, until it was lost to mortal sight, even hers.

Come back, my love.

The cheerful jazz music coming from the band on stage could not disguise the fact that this cantina was a hive of scum and villainy. Men and women so hairy that they seemed like animals, covered in grime and tattoos, drank and laughed and accompanied their growls of anger with shows of guns or knives, or else they passed lien to scantily clad companions for the promise of a little pleasure. Humans and faunus of every kind mingled here, and it was quite honestly not a place where Pyrrha would have been seen dead, nor wished to go in any case.

She was here now covered in a dark grey cloak, dressed in some of Jaune’s old and rather threadbare clothes, his hoodie and jeans, while a scarf was wrapped around her face to further hide her identity from the world. She was not worried about trouble – she was confident that she could fight her way through any of these low lifes – and though she had some concern for reputation and what people might think of her going to a place like this, her main concern was that no word of it should reach Salem’s agents in the city. If they knew that she was sending an envoy of her own to Atlas, they might try to interfere in that, and it might lead to trouble for Turnus if they found out that he had informed her of the need to send an envoy of her own to Atlas.

They had had no contact since that night. Pyrrha could hardly blame him for that; with Juturna’s life at stake, he could not afford to take any risks, and besides, he had done enough. She knew who her enemies were, even if she couldn’t prove it.

The fact that she couldn’t prove it rankled with her somewhat, not least because she didn’t understand it. She had passed the information about Lady Ming’s death to Terri-Belle, via her sister Swift Foot, and yet…

And yet, according to Terri-Belle, Lady Ming remained very much alive. They had done tests to prove it.

Since then, she had dismissed Arslan’s gladiator friend as the captain of her company and appointed a faunus named Pharynx, as well as greatly strengthening her numbers, but more importantly, she remained firmly ensconced upon the Council because she was, apparently, still the same Lady Ming who had been elected to that august body.

She might still be Lady Ming for all that Pyrrha knew, and not this Chrysalis at all. Perhaps they were working together. That might honestly be worse.

It did not change what she had to do.

It did not change what she had to ask of her mother.

Someone had to go to Atlas and plead their case for help; she couldn’t do this on her own, not with Salem’s agents in the city and burrowing into its power structures. She needed help, she needed advice, she needed… she needed anything that they could give her.

But with the CCT down, that meant first going to Atlas to ask for it, and since Pyrrha could neither go herself nor send Jaune from her side, that meant that she was sending her mother, who would – with good fortune – be able to convince General Ironwood of their need.

Which meant finding a ship to take her mother to Atlas safely and in secret; she could not simply charter a yacht as Turnus had done without raising a lot of awkward questions as to why she was sending her mother north. It was not as though anyone would believe that Lady Nikos had decided to take a vacation in Solitas at a time like this.

To add to the question of Salem’s agents in the city was the problem that so many, the Lord Steward amongst them, still did not trust Pyrrha’s motives. Pyrrha had formed the Myrmidons and led them out to battle for no other reason than because someone had to protect the settlements from the grimm attracted to the fear and disorder and the bandits who sought to profit from the convulsions of the state, but – and woe unto Mistral that it was so – there were so many who could see no further than their own self-interest that they thought she was defending the kingdom only to possess it and who feared for their own positions in consequence.

They would hardly believe that their fears were groundless if she were known to be publicly sending her own ambassadors to other kingdoms.

It was not a step she would have taken – she had not taken it, for several months – save that their need now made it unavoidable.

And thus, she was here, in this dive, to meet with Ren and Nora who had, according to Ren’s text, found what they were looking for.

Jaune was by her side, wearing one of Ren’s dressing gowns over his hoodie and the hood up to hide his face. One hand drifted to Crocea Mors, which he wore at his hip. Pyrrha hoped that they didn’t have to use it.

She glanced around the bar, eventually catching sight of Ren and Nora approaching on either side of a tall avian faunus with a crest of red feathers instead of hair and an eyepatch covering one green eye. He was simply dressed, in a tight brown vest and green-brown pants, but he wore a cutlass at his hip and a brace of pistols shoved into his belt.

“This is Boyle,” Ren said, speaking softly – even more so than usual. “He’s the first mate on a ship that might suit us.”

Boyle nodded. “This way, I’ll introduce you to the cap’n.”

The captain was sitting alone at the private booth towards the back of the cantina; she, too, was an avian faunus, tall and slender and shapely, with dusky skin and vivid red eyes. Her hair was green and long, spilling out like waves down her back and on either side of her face, while a long tail of matching green feathers fell down to the floor between her legs. One of said legs was missing, replaced by a slender prosthetic that looked more like a peg than a foot and which had been painted the same vivid green as her hair and tailfeathers. She wore bronze armour over a dun brown coat, and a large tricorne hat with a long red feather in it sat upon the table in front of her.

So did a sword, a sabre, longer than the cutlass carried by her first mate. One of her arms rested against the wall, fingers picking at the peeling plaster, while the other was out of sight.

She watched them silently as Jaune and Pyrrha sat down, while Ren and Nora stood behind them, quiet and watchful.

The captain continued to sit silently, as her first mate sat down beside her and whispered something in her ear.

“My name’s Celaeno,” she announced. “I’m the captain of the Iridescent Rainbow; Boyle says that you’re looking for passage to Atlas.” She smirked. “I’d be honoured that you came to me if I knew who you were.”

Pyrrha hesitated. “'Honoured'?” she asked.

“You must be a pretty big deal,” Celaeno said. “You can afford to send your flunkies down here to check things out and only come yourself to close the deal. Hell, just having flunkies makes you a big deal around here.” She leaned forward. “But here’s the thing, Miss Big Deal; if you want to talk business with me, you’re going to need to show me your face. It’s nothing personal, but I find it’s easier to lie when nobody can see your lips moving.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “I would rather not-”

“Then we’re done,” Celaeno said. “Excuse me-”

“Wait,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Please, wait.” Yet still, she hesitated for another moment, before she pulled down the scarf that hid her lower face from sight.

Boyle muttered something under his breath. Celaeno’s red eyes widened. She mouthed Pyrrha’s name silently.

“Okay, I guess I really should be honoured,” Celaeno said. “Or terrified. Are things so bad around here that the Champion of Mistral wants to cut and run.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Pyrrha declared. “The passage to Mistral isn’t for me. But you can understand why I want to keep this quiet and confidential.”

Celaeno and Boyle exchanged a silent glance before Celaeno said, “I can understand that. So, if it’s not you going to Atlas then who is?”

“Two passengers,” Ren said. “And no questions asked.”

Celaeno smiled, a quiet chuckle rising out of her throat. “You do realise that just raises so many more questions, right? Starting with why the great Pyrrha Nikos is down in a dump like this looking to charter passage from someone like me?”

“Uh, you did hear the part where he said ‘no questions,’ right?” Nora said.

“Let’s just say that we’d like to keep this as quiet as possible,” Pyrrha murmured.

Celaeno stared at her for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “But it’ll cost you something extra.” She paused. “Twenty thousand, all in advance.”

“Twenty thousand!” Jaune gasped. “Twenty – we could buy our own ship for twenty thousand.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t be very quiet and confidential now, would it?” Captain Celaeno replied. “And besides, who’d fly that ship, kid? You?”

Jaune scowled, but did not reply.

Pyrrha felt as though they didn’t really have much choice; she was about to agree to the captain’s terms when Ren said, “We’ll pay you five thousand now, and twenty five once our passengers reach Atlas. And the same terms to bring them back again once their business is concluded.”

Celaeno’s eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. “'Sixty'?” she said. “Sixty thousand, round trip? Okay, you’ve got yourselves a ship. We’ll leave as soon as you're ready, docking bay ninety four.”

“Ninety four,” Pyrrha repeated. “Thank you, Captain; we’ll be there very soon.”

Boyle held his peace until their guests had departed; only when they were out of the cantina did he say anything. “Are you sure about this, Cap’n?”

“I’m sure this is shaping up to be the biggest payday we’ve had in a while,” Celaeno replied. “Sixty thousand. I mean, I know she’s got the lien, but even so, they must be desperate.”

“Yeah,” Boyle muttered. “That’s what worries me.”

Celaeno would have been lying if she said she didn’t know what he meant. Sixty thousand lien and no questions asked, this wasn’t just ferrying some little rich girl to Atlas for fashion week.

Whoever had gotten them onto her in the first place would have told them that Celaeno was a smuggler first and foremost; you didn’t go to someone like that unless you were involved in something pretty shady.

All the same… sixty thousand lien.

“We need this,” Celaeno said. “With sixty thousand lien, we can get out from under Li’l Miss Malachite. I’m telling you, Boyle, this is really going to save our necks.” She stood up, putting her hat on her head and thrusting her sword into her belt. “So let’s get the crew together and head back to the ship and get her ready to sail.” If they wanted to leave immediately, then they would get no argument from Celaeno.

The sooner they were gone from Mistral, in her opinion, the better. So she and Boyle rounded up the crew, from a bar even less salubrious than the cantina if you could believe it, and made their way to the docking pad where their beloved ship was waiting for them.

The Iridescent Rainbow was a beauty of a vessel, sleek and fast – very fast, when she was well handled – with lovely lines curling backwards from the prow shaped like a bird’s beak, and myriad colourful sails that looked like the plumage of a parrot spread out in a kind of crest above the hull. She relied on speed rather than firepower to get out of trouble, but with the two heavy guns mounted forward, she could take care of herself if she needed to.

Yes, sir, she was a lovely lady.

She was also, at this moment, surrounded by armed goons.

“Celaeno!” Li’l Miss Malachite yelled up at the silent ship. “Get down here and face me, Celaeno!”

“I’m right here, Mal,” Celaeno declared as she stepped into view from behind Miss Malachite’s thugs, spreading her hands out on either side of her to show she wasn’t reaching for a weapon. Her crew spread out behind her, even as Malachite’s people turned to face her, some of them taking aim at her and others just keeping their guns handy in case they had to aim at her. “Matter of fact, I’ve been waiting for you.”

That was a lie, and Li’l Miss Malachite seemed to know it too, because she put her hands on her hip and sounded distinctly sceptical as she said, “Oh, have you now?”

Celaeno smiled. “You didn’t think I was just going to run away without saying goodbye, did you?” she asked. That had, in fact, been the plan, and she was very disappointed that Malachite had seen it coming.

Li’l Miss Malachite sighed as her armed heavies closed in. “Celaeno, I am so disappointed in you. Ain’t I been like a mother to you?”

Celaeno glanced at Malachite’s actual daughters, standing on either side of her looking like they wanted nothing better than an excuse to carve Celaeno up. “I’m not ungrateful, Mal-”

“And yet this is how you repay me?” Li’l Miss Malachite demanded. “By not repaying me?” Malachite closed the distance separating her from Celaeno, reaching out to put one arm around her. “Now, you know I love you like my own daughters, but I can’t make exceptions in this business. What happens if all my smugglers decide to dump their cargo at the first sign of Atlesian cruisers?”

“Even I get boarded sometimes, Mal,” Celaeno insisted. “I didn’t have a choice; they came out of the clouds right on top of me; there was no getting away from them.”

“It ain’t good business,” Li’l Miss Malachite replied. “I’m still on the hook for my cargo, which you dropped in the ocean somewhere, and in the meantime, my guy in Atlas wants to know where his product is. There are some folks who say I oughtta have made a feather headdress out of you already, just to set an example.”

“Well, then I’m lucky that you love me like a daughter, aren’t I?” Celaeno replied. “Listen, I’ve got a nice, easy charter lined up; as soon as I get back, I can pay you everything I owe, plus a little extra.”

“You are lucky you're pretty,” Li’l Miss Malachite declared. “And even luckier that you’re the best pilot I’ve ever had. So, for an extra twenty-five percent-”

“Twenty,” Celaeno said. “Don’t push it.”

“I ain’t the one who’ll lose a hand if you try and push me again,” Malachite declared. “For an extra twenty-five percent, we can put this whole thing behind us.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if you disappoint me again, I’ll put a price on your head so big you won’t be able to set foot in Anima again.”

Celaeno forced herself to smile. “You’re the best boss anyone could ask for, Mal.”

“And don’t you know it,” Malachite replied. “Okay, pack it up everyone, let’s go.” She set off with her goons trailing after her. One of her daughters – Celaeno couldn’t keep them straight in her head, the one with the claws – paused as the armed thugs filed past, looking Celaeno in the eye.

“Until next time,” she said, a smirk on her face as sharp as her claws, before she rejoined her mother and sister and all the rest on the way out.

Celaeno clenched her fist and seriously contemplated staying in Atlas, for all that it was much harder to make a living there than it was here in Mistral.

“Cap’n,” Boyle began.

“Just get the ship ready,” Celaeno snapped.

Boyle winced. “Aye aye, Cap’n.”

As she, Jaune, Nora, and Ren – and now Sun and her mother as well – made their way to docking bay ninety four, Pyrrha was not blind to the fact that a stream of armed men and women, most of them sporting visible spider tattoos somewhere about their person, passed them by going the other way.

Nora hid herself from them, although if what Pyrrha had heard was true, then those criminals would be more likely to flee in terror than try and seek revenge. Regardless, she was glad that Nora had decided to avoid trouble with Pyrrha’s mother here, and a little concerned about what the Spider Gang had been going so close to the ship that she had chartered.

She very much hoped that it was a coincidence.

They arrived at the docking bay, and Pyrrha had to admit that the ship, the Iridescent Rainbow, was a sight to behold. Possibly too much of a sight to behold, given the importance of secrecy.

“Afternoon,” Captain Celaeno said as she swaggered down the boarding platform with her hat atop her head, its long plume trailing out behind her as her tail raised just off the floor. She gestured to Sun, who was dressed as he always was, and to Lady Nikos, who was wearing an all-encompassing black dress, a mourning dress which Pyrrha remembered her wearing after Father died; it was probably the least conspicuous thing she owned.

“Are these our passengers?” Celaeno asked.

“We are,” Lady Nikos declared stiffly.

“Then greetings!” Captain Celaeno declared, sweeping her hat off her head as she bowed. “My name is Celaeno, captain of this ship, and I’ll be responsible for your safe journey. If you’d like to get on board, then we’ll be underway right away.”

“Just one moment please, Captain,” Pyrrha said. “I saw rather a lot of armed people heading away from here just now.”

Celaeno grinned. “No questions asked, Lady Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha flushed, but stood her ground regardless. “This… this is my mother,” she declared. “If you do not bring her back safe and sound-”

“Then it will be because of your business, not my negligence,” Celaeno declared. “I’m not in the habit of letting my clients down.”

Pyrrha paused for a moment. This was not the sort of woman she would ordinarily have trusted, and yet, in the circumstances, she had no choice but to trust. “Very well, Captain. If you will give me just one moment with my mother?”

“I’ll see you on board, Lady N!” Sun said cheerfully as he carried the luggage – two suitcases for Lady Nikos and a rucksack upon his back for Sun himself – up the ramp and aboard ship.

Pyrrha turned back to face her mother, reaching out to take her by the hands. “I feel… as though I should not be doing this. I feel as though I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this.”

“I feel as though this dialogue should be reversed,” Lady Nikos observed dryly. “What a topsy turvy world we live in now, when my daughter should be fearful to involve her mother in affairs on which the fates of kingdoms hang.”

“It is the nature of the secrets which we hold, I fear,” Pyrrha murmured. “You do not have to go.”

“Then you do not have to fight for Mistral in the field against its enemies,” Lady Nikos said.

“I must,” Pyrrha declared. “You know I must, if-”

“And I must do my part also, however small a part it may be,” Lady Nikos said. “I am too weak to fight, but not yet to speak, thank the gods, and if with words, I can do as much for you as many Myrmidon swords, then I will count myself very well pleased.”

Pyrrha nodded. “For so long,” she confessed, “I thought… I feared that I was utterly unlike you. I feared that Sunset was so much more like you than I was, so much more the daughter you wished for than I. But it seems, at last, that we are at least well-matched in our sense of duty.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said quietly. “I, too, thought and feared, I must confess, that you were… I should have spent less time thinking on the daughter I wished to have and recognised sooner the quality of the daughter that had been given to me.”

Pyrrha blinked rapidly, a feeling of embarrassment mingling with inappropriate joy in her chest. Her eyes stung a little with the beginnings of tears. “Mother, I-”

“I have always known that I gave strength to Mistral when I brought you into the world,” Lady Nikos declared. “And now I know that I could not have given it a finer gift. Mister Arc!”

“Yes, my lady?”

“I charge you to give my daughter the wisest of counsel in my absence,” Lady Nikos commanded. “You are her staff, Mister Arc; I trust you have the strength for it.”

Jaune smiled, at Pyrrha and her mother both, as he bowed his head. “I will not break, nor bend, my lady. I give you my word.”

“Then I am content,” Lady Nikos declared. “And I should not keep Mister Wukong or our good captain waiting.” Yet still she took pause a moment, before she said to Pyrrha, “'Always be the best, the bravest-'”

“'And hold my head up above all others'?” Pyrrha suggested, finishing the quotation.

Lady Nikos smiled thinly. “That was never your preference, was it? And in these times, perilous as they are, the holding of your own head is of less import, but I fear Mistral cannot endure without you at your best and bravest. And so: fight well and be superior to all your foes. And now I really must go. Farewell, my daughter, farewell, Mister Arc. Goodbye, Mister Ren and Miss Valkyrie, and thank you for the aid you have given Pyrrha these last months.”

Ren bowed. “It has been our honour, my lady.”

“Good fortune be your companion, Mother,” Pyrrha murmured. “And your guide.”

Lady Nikos had cited the impeccable authority of the Mistraliad to her, altering it just a little to account for their situation, but as she watched her mother board the Iridescent Rainbow, Pyrrha felt another quote come to her mind.

Be strong, saith my heart, I am a warrior,

I have seen sights far worse than this.

And yet those words brought her no comfort. They did not ease the aching in her heart, nor banish away the sense that it was in some way perverse for the daughter to send the mother away into peril, casting her from a place of safety into the mouth of grave and desperate struggle.

As the airship rose into the sky, Pyrrha felt someone take her hand and knew that it was Jaune.

“She’ll be fine,” Jaune assured her. “And I’m not just saying that; I really believe it.”

“Why?” Pyrrha asked, wanting to believe it too.

“Because it’s Atlas,” Jaune said. “I’m not sure there’s anywhere safer to be, with Remnant as it is now.”

He made a very good point. Atlas was safe; in fact, it was probably a good deal safer than Mistral, what with Mistral having Salem’s forces in the city and Atlas having its fleets and armies to defend it. And yet, even knowing that, her heart fretted.

“Have I done the right thing?” she asked.

“You’ve done the best you could,” Jaune replied.

“That is not the question I asked,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I know,” he said softly. “But it’s the only answer there is.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips and hoped that fate would be kind as she watched the airship bear her mother away.

Hope, after all, was all that she could do. Hope that the journey be safe and uneventful, hope that her mother would make contact with their friends and allies in the north. Hope that aid and counsel would be forthcoming.

Hope, in spite of everything, that all would be well in the end.

Old School Friends

Old School Friends

Space was at a premium in Atlas, but the Cadenza-Sparkles had solved that problem like so many others in Atlas had by building up. Their townhouse resembled a tower, an elegant tower of glass which managed the trick of admitting light while not admitting the views of casual voyeurs outside, instead presenting a reflective, shining blue surface that seemed in the right light to be almost crystalline.

As he stood before it, Ironwood felt a little envious. He would have liked this much space when Aska and Kogetsu were growing up.

There were some benefits, he had to concede, to coming from a good family. Atlas might not have nobility, like they did in Mistral, but they definitely had class.

Nevertheless, of all the families that might be said to make up the elite of Atlas, at least the Cadenza-Sparkles deserved their place in that number.

That was more than could be said for some.

Ironwood approached the door. It was opened before he quite got to it. The Cadenza-Sparkles were wealthy enough to afford some help around the house but not quite wealthy enough to afford human help, and so, the door opened automatically, and he was greeted by an automated approximation of a female voice.

“Good morning, General Ironwood,” the voice, which came from everywhere and nowhere, greeted him. “Please come inside.”

“Thank you,” Ironwood replied as he strode through the door, which closed automatically behind him.

“Councillor Cadenza and Captain Armor are in the bedroom, expecting you,” the VI said.

“The bedroom?” Ironwood repeated. “Are they-?”

“They are expecting you,” the VI repeated.

That didn’t exactly answer his question, which was more along the lines of ‘are they decent?’ He didn’t want to walk in on anything intimate between the two of them. But, he supposed that he had been told they were expecting him, and the entire reason he was calling on the Councillor at her home was because he knew that she was experiencing some severe morning sickness. That would hardly put her in the mood for anything improper of him to walk in on.

“Very well,” he said, “where is the bedroom?” He had been the Councillor’s guest for dinner in the past, but he had restricted himself to the ground floor.

“Sixth floor, General,” the VI said, as the elevator door at the far end of the hall slid open invitingly for him.

“Thank you,” Ironwood said as he walked into the elevator. He didn’t need to press any buttons as it carried him up to the sixth floor.

Ironwood was a great supporter of technology; he believed in its potential to make Atlas an even better place. But there were times when he wondered if Twilight’s family didn’t carry that a little to excess.

The elevator opened up again to deposit him on the sixth floor. The interior walls were a cool blue, bathed in the sunlight from the glassy exteriors. The floors were polished to such a shine he could see his reflection in them, and maintained that way by an array of mouse-like robots rolling up and down in front of him, while an android housekeeper dusted some wedding photos hanging on the wall.

“Rainbow Dash! Do you mind? You keep scraping the wall!”

“Sorry, Rarity, there isn’t much room to manoeuvre in here,” Dash replied.

“Then perhaps you should try simply using a ladder, darling, or a long roller.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m having fun. Oh, the baby is going to love this. She’ll get to spend every night surrounded by trees and animals-”

“And balloons and candles and candy canes.”

Ironwood had no idea where the bedroom was, but he walked down the corridor in the direction of the voices of Dash and her friends towards a spacious room with only one exterior facing wall, and even that had been partially boarded up to about the waist height of the average man. The room was empty of all furniture and completely bare except for the plastic sheeting on the floor. The reason for said sheet, and for the absence of all other things, was quite apparent to Ironwood as he stood in the doorway and saw Dash, Belladonna, and all of their friends – aside from Twilight and Apple – painting the walls and ceiling.

Dash was wearing her Wings of Harmony, using them to hover above the floor and paint the ceiling in a midnight blue. Drops of paint had stained the metal of the wings, as well as Dash’s face, hands, and clothes and drip-dropping onto the floor besides. What was more of a problem was that she seemed to have scraped the walls more than once with her wings as she moved around.

The walls themselves, the work of Belladonna, as well as Dash and Twilight’s friends Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy, were in the process of being painted in the vein of a fantastical forest, with tall trees of the sort which only grew in children’s stories, the type on which burning candles and red and white candy canes grew as easily as apples, pears, or oranges. Balloons of yellow, blue, and pink were beginning to float amongst the trees, while bunnies and squirrels gambolled around the forest floor.

It was somewhat twee, but Ironwood supposed an infant would appreciate it.

Everyone was covered in paint, on their overalls and their goggles and their faces, even in their hair – except for Rarity, who had covered hers.

There were holes drilled in the walls, lined with paper to stop paint getting in or over them. Since they were set high, Ironwood guessed they were for light fittings, although he wasn’t sure of the need for so many of them.

It was Belladonna, daubing at the trunk of a tree with a paint brush, who saw him first. She sprang to attention. “Officer on deck, ten hut!”

Instantly, Dash’s Wings of Harmony folded into the bulky backpack, and she dropped to the floor with a crash, springing around to face him with her hands straight down her sides.

“Relax, both of you; you’re not on duty,” Ironwood reminded them. He glanced around the room. “I take it this is going to be the nursery?”

“Yes, sir,” Dash replied.

“Since Cadance is having a bit of a rough time lately, we volunteered to come and help decorate it for them,” Fluttershy informed him.

“In fact, they’ve agreed to leave everything to us while they get some much needed rest,” Rarity declared.

“I see,” Ironwood said. He looked up at the ceiling. “Let me guess: a night sky.”

“Twilight and Rarity haven’t yet decided whether the position of the stars will be astronomically accurate or not,” Belladonna said mildly.

“If the baby wants to learn astronomy, then they can look in a book,” Rarity said. “Or ask for a telescope from Auntie Twilight for their birthday.”

Ironwood didn’t respond to that; rather, he said, “I’m a little surprised to see you here, Belladonna.”

Belladonna smiled. “I admit it’s not like anything I’ve ever really done before, sir,” she said, “but Councillor Cadenza – Cadance – has been a good friend to Menagerie; this is the least I can do to return the favour.”

“Plus, you’re having fun, right?” Pinkie asked.

Belladonna’s smile widened. “Of course. That too.”

“So where are Apple and Twilight?” Ironwood asked. “I would have expected them to be involved if the rest of you are.”

“Applejack’s making a mobile for the baby!” Pinkie chirruped.

“And Twilight-” Dash began.

There was a crash from another room down the hall, followed by Twilight shouting. “Grrr! Why won’t you look like I want you to?!”

“Twilight is, um, helping with the furniture,” Fluttershy murmured.

“I see,” Ironwood replied. “Well, I won’t disturb you any further. But Dash?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As a Specialist, your equipment is your own property,” Ironwood said. “But those wings are not really suitable for tight quarters.”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow replied, a slight note of embarrassment in her voice.

“Dash, Belladonna, ladies,” Ironwood said before he turned away, leaving them to it as he walked down the corridor to his left.

He clasped his hands behind his back as he walked. Thinking back to when he had been the one rushing around trying to get everything in order for the arrival of Aska and Kogetsu. They had come to him a little older than babies, of course, but that had made some things harder, rather than easier.

He found Apple and Twilight a couple of doors down. Apple was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a carving knife in her hand as she shaped a block of wood with careful, flowing strokes of the knife, shaving the wood away to reveal whatever her imagination had glimpsed within.

Twilight was standing on the other side of the room, using her telekinetic semblance to wrestle with some flat-pack furniture – a crib, judging by the picture on the box sitting a few feet away.

Ironwood had to judge by the box because, unfortunately, the tangled mess that Twilight had made was quite unrecognisable.

“Why won’t you fit together!” she demanded.

Apple looked over her shoulder. “Twi, I told you, I will make the baby a crib! You just gotta give me time to find all the right kinda woods, that’s all.”

Twilight growled. “You don’t understand, Applejack; according to the aggregate of all online reviews, this crib is supposed to be the very best one on the market.”

“Well, I don’t know about no online reviews,” Apple replied. “But what I do know is that when Big Mac was on the way, my Daddy built him a crib with his own two hands, got his own sweat on it, trapped underneath the varnish, and me and my brother and my sister, we all slept in it just fine every night until we was too old.” She paused. “Come on, let me do this, Twilight. Let me give the little one a present.”

“You’re already giving her the mobile,” Twilight pointed out.

“This ain’t hardly anythin’,” Apple said. “Let me give her somethin’ to sleep in that’s made with love.”

Twilight pouted. “How is it that I can build a drone filled with complex robotics and computer systems, but I can’t assemble a flat pack?”

“I think they make them to be easy to get wrong and hard to fix so you have to buy new furniture,” Apple said.

“That’s quite a cynical viewpoint, Apple,” Ironwood observed.

“General Ironwood!” Twilight gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see Councillor Cadenza,” Ironwood explained. “Given her condition, it seemed the courteous thing to do.”

“Is this about the Mistralian envoy?” Twilight asked.

Ironwood chuckled. “Good guess.”

“It seemed obvious, General,” Twilight said. “Everyone’s talking about it: the first contact with Mistral since the CCT went down.”

“It seems that in this house, there are other subjects of conversation,” Ironwood said. “Where did you get that crib, by the way?”

“The same place we got all the furniture for the nursery,” Twilight said. “SnowHome.”

“A subsidiary of the Schnee Dust Company,” Ironwood said. “You might be onto something with that theory of yours, Apple.”

Apple grinned momentarily. “Howdy, sir.”

Ironwood nodded. He glanced at the wooden carvings that Apple had already produced: a dog, a bear, a penguin. Each of them was quite exquisite, really. “You’ve got quite a talent there, Apple.”

“I hope you don’t mind me sayin’ so, sir, and don’t take it the wrong way or nothin’, but I get more out of making stuff like this with my hands than I do out of killin’ grimm.”

“I’m not surprised, and I certainly don’t blame you,” Ironwood murmured. A sigh escaped him. “Unfortunately, we need good people like you out on the battlefield more than we need carpenters or wood carvers.”

“On account of she’ll always be out there, right, sir?” Apple asked.

“Exactly,” Ironwood said quietly. He cleared his throat. “Twilight, perhaps you could show me to the bedroom; this part of the house is new to me.”

“Of course, General,” Twilight said, stepping away from the mess that was supposed to be a crib. “Follow me.”

She led Ironwood out of that room and further down the hall, to a large room at the corner of the tower decorated in pink along the two interior walls, while the two exterior walls of glass were both concealed behind thick purple curtains. Councillor Cadenza was sitting up in bed, wearing a loose, flowing gown with a very high waistline. Shining Armor sat in a chair by the side of her bed, casually dressed in a shirt with no tie and an undone collar.

Twilight knocked on the door. “Um, General Ironwood’s here,” she said.

Councillor Cadenza smiled. “Thank you, Twilight. How’s everything going?”

“Well, uh,” Twilight laughed nervously. “The decorating is going well.”

Councillor Cadenza’s smile widened just a little. “You know,” she said, “I think a homemade crib would be very special.”

Twilight huffed. “I can… except I can’t, can I? Well, Applejack will be glad to hear it. I’ll, uh, I’ll let her know. And leave you in peace. General Ironwood.”

“Twilight,” Ironwood replied, as Twilight took her leave and shut the door behind him.

Shining Armor got to his feet. “Sir.”

“Captain,” Ironwood said. “Councillor. How are you feeling?”

Councillor Cadenza closed her eyes for a moment. “I am glad that you haven’t caught me coming out of the bathroom,” she murmured. “It comes, and it goes, and when it comes, it can be messy. Thank you, General, for coming here. I’m not sure that I could have managed the trip to Atlas Academy in my condition.”

“I understand,” Ironwood replied. “It’s not a problem.”

Shining Armor gestured to the chair he had risen from. “Please, sir, sit down.”

Ironwood waved one hand. “Keep your seat, Captain; I’m fine here.”

Shining Armor hesitated for a moment, but resumed his seat. “Thank you, sir.”

“How are the new security arrangements for the Council working?” Ironwood asked him.

“Clover’s team is integrating well, sir, and I’ve been very impressed by Flash Sentry.”

“He’s settling in alright?” Ironwood asked. Huntsmen who came to the Atlesian military without going through Atlas Academy first sometimes struggled with a degree of culture shock, lessened but not wholly mitigated if they’d been to Atlas for a Vytal Festival.

“He is from Atlas,” Shining Armor reminded him. “I guess that’s helped him find his feet. I feel a little sorry for Marrow, though.”

“How so?”

“He’s got five years on Flash, but he still gets treated like the rookie because Flash fought at Vale and Marrow didn’t.”

“Sentry has paid for his exemption from the teasing the hard way,” Ironwood muttered. “Once you lose a limb in the service, people feel a little uncomfortable talking about how green you are.” Though they can become more comfortable talking about how inhuman you are.

“Right, sir,” Shining Armor agreed. “Anyway, with Cadance like this, it’s good having people I can rely on to pick up the slack.”

“Nobody wants to take you away from your wife at a time like this if it can be avoided,” Ironwood said.

“With the benefit of hindsight,” Councillor Cadenza groaned, “a time like this was perhaps not the best time to be having a baby.”

“When would have been a better time?” Ironwood asked. “Last year, when the White Fang were running rampant in Vale? Councillor, if you waited for the world to be still and calm before living your life, you’d be waiting a long time.”

“A good point, but one which doesn’t completely negate my own,” Councillor Cadenza replied. “There is still and calm, and then there is this. Apart from anything else, I haven’t been able to campaign for Pearl the way I would have liked.”

“It hasn’t stopped her leading in the polls,” Shining Armor pointed out.

“I know,” Councillor Cadenza sighed. “But a lot can happen in an election campaign, and I wish I was able to get out there. Ah, well. There’s no point dwelling on what might have been, I suppose. Anyway, it’s not what I asked you to come and visit me to discuss.”

“The Mistralian embassy,” Ironwood said.

“Indeed, General,” Councillor Cadenza replied. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that Mistral has reached out to us, and we can finally get some accurate information on what’s been going on there since the CCT went down, but…”

“The manner of the outreach concerns you?” Ironwood suggested.

“It puzzles me, a little,” Councillor Cadenza corrected him. “Lord Rutulus has been here for two days, he’s made sure that everyone knows that he is here and where he comes from, and since then, he and his escort have taken rooms at the Glass Unicorn and made no effort to get an audience with the Council. It’s as if he’s deliberately trying to keep us all in suspense, but why?”

“I couldn’t possibly say,” Ironwood said, his tone neutral.

“I know about the history he has with Atlas,” Councillor Cadenza said. “Shining Armor has filled me in.”

“Of course,” Ironwood murmured. “You two were in the same year, weren’t you?”

“You let him off too lightly, sir,” Shining Armor declared. “Summary expulsion? For what he did?”

“There was no proof to contradict his version of the events,” Ironwood said.

“He’d argued with them before the mission,” Shining Armor declared. “There’s been bad blood on that team ever since the vacation ended, and he knew how to hold a grudge. And then his teammates all die on a mission, and he comes home without a scratch? I don’t buy that, sir, and I know that you didn’t buy it either.”

“No,” Ironwood said. “There is no doubt in my mind that, at the least, he left his team to die.”

“Then you should have drummed him out for cowardice,” Shining Armor said.

“And sent the message to all the other students that they shouldn’t try and save themselves in a truly hopeless situation?” Ironwood demanded. “You know how narrow the line between risking it all to save your comrades and throwing your own life away can get. I didn’t want to tell good kids that they ought to run to their deaths for no reason. That’s why I didn’t charge Rutulus with cowardice in the face of the enemy. I didn’t want him at my academy, but I wanted him to leave a legacy that would damage the whole school even less.”

Shining Armor shook his head. “I can’t believe that they’ve sent that guy to talk to us.”

“In Mistral, his school record probably matters less than the fact that he’s the head of a wealthy and powerful family,” Councillor Cadenza observed.

“Probably,” Shining Armor muttered. “And he was always a big admirer of Atlas; maybe he wanted to come.”

“Although some of the things he admired are not necessarily the things that we admire about ourselves, from what you’ve told me,” Councillor Cadenza said.

“He came to Atlas as an outsider, and he had an outsider’s view of Atlas,” Shining Armour said. “He saw what he wanted to see.”

“Regardless of what kind of a man he is, he is the man that Mistral has sent to talk to us,” Councillor Cadenza said. “Only, it seems that he doesn’t want to talk. Perhaps he’s waiting for the outcome of the election, but I would like to know for sure, one way or another.”

“What do you have in mind, Councillor?” Ironwood asked.

“I was hoping,” Councillor Cadenza said, “that you might call on him at his hotel, General, and get a feel for what he wants, what Mistral wants, why he has been sent here.”

Ironwood was silent for a moment, thinking about it. “I… I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Councillor.”

“No?” Councillor Cadenza asked.

“He’s not likely to look kindly on the man who expelled him from Atlas Academy,” Ironwood pointed out. “And, while this may just be my pride talking, I’d rather not go begging for a word with someone who can’t be bothered to request a meeting on his own.”

“This is hardly the moment to let your pride get in the way of important considerations,” Councillor Cadenza informed him.

“If you were in a state to go and meet with him, Councillor, I wouldn’t advise you to do so either,” Ironwood said. “It makes us look subordinate.”

Councillor Cadenza laughed. “And we of Atlas may never look subordinate, is that what you mean, General?”

“This is our kingdom, Councillor; why should we go to him?”

Councillor Cadenza sighed. “Our pride will be the death of us, I fear. If I suggested inviting him to dinner here, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say you might not be in a position to make the best impression, honey,” Shining Armor murmured. He paused. “I could go.”

Councillor Cadenza looked at her husband. “You?”

Shining Armor shrugged. “We were at Atlas together for a while. We were even in the same year. Sure, we weren’t friends, but how many people actually know that? Yes, I’m your husband, but even so, what could be more natural than going to see an old buddy who’s come all the way from Mistral? I can find out some answers, and nobody has to lose face.”

“I don’t seem to remember you had any problems with him,” Ironwood murmured. “Did you?”

“We used to go after one another with relish in sparring class,” Shining Armor admitted. “I guess you could say we were rivals, and I can’t say that I liked his attitude, but we never fought that I can remember.”

“Nothing that would make him refuse to see you,” Ironwood said.

“If he knows that I’m married to a Councillor, he’ll know what’s going on,” Shining Armor pointed out.

That made sense. “In that case, it sounds like a reasonable idea to me.”

Councillor Cadenza reached out and took Shining Armor’s hand. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” Shining Armor said. “You can’t go for… a whole bunch of reasons, so let me go instead of you.”

Councillor Cadenza smiled at him. “Thank you.”

Turnus paced up and down in his room.

He had been at the Glass Unicorn – one of Atlas’ premier hotels – for two days now. He had been… he would not say that he had been delaying, although some would; rather, he would say that he had been pondering, considering, contemplating how he might go about his various missions, public and private.

In other words, he had been delaying, but justifying it to himself.

He had some cause for delay. Since arriving in Atlas, he had paid attention to the news – it turned out that the merchants he had been paying for gossip from the north had been leaving some things out – and sending out his men to find out the lay of the land here. He now understood a little better now why Doctor Watts had given him the name of Abacus Cinch, a Combat School principal. She was also a backer of Jacques Schnee in his run for the vacant council seat. She might, Turnus was not sure of this, seek to become or presume to be his eminence grise, although with Mister Schnee behind in the polls – and was that not a great argument against democracy, that so great a man was failing to win over the citizens who judged not with their heads but with their hearts – her hopes were starting to look academic.

But then, who was Turnus Rutulus to assume that Chrysalis and Doctor Watts and their dark mistress did not have some means of influencing the election that they had not yet revealed? After the lengths they had gone to to gain influence in Mistral and power over him, he would not put such work past them.

For his public mission, to broker or at least begin the process of brokering an alliance between Atlas and Mistral, he had excuse for delay: with an election in the offing, it was prudent to wait until a new councillor was installed. There was no point in starting negotiations that would be derailed if the balance of power shifted as a result of the election, especially in a council that was finely balanced.

Turnus had been surprised, when he arrived and made discreet inquiries, to find out what was going on here. Atlas had seemed to him so strong when he had been here last: mighty, inviolate, everything that he hoped for his own homeland. There were many people who still felt that way: Atlas will always be Atlas, as they said. They felt safe, confident in the strength of their military, and with so much of that strength literally hovering overhead, who could blame them?

But there were cracks here, nonetheless. Not everyone trusted General Ironwood; there were those who feared he had misused the military and that he would continue to do so. There were those, worryingly, who wished to see Atlas turn away from the wider world of Remnant and look exclusively to its own security.

Turnus was surprised that Mister Schnee was such a one, had even become the spokesman for such attitudes. How could a man with business interests all over Remnant, whose revenues flowed in from all four kingdoms, preach isolation? It had not seemed in his character when Turnus had worked for the SDC. It was true that they had not been close, but from what he had observed, Mister Schnee was always interested in new acquisitions, always ready to embrace an investment opportunity in any kingdom.

Perhaps he did not fully understand Mister Schnee’s platform. He had considered seeking an audience with his old employer, but he hesitated for fear it would look as though he had chosen sides ahead of an election which, with the best will in the world, Mister Schnee seemed set to lose.

He could more easily understand why the agents of Salem would wish for an inward-looking Atlas. An Atlas that had abandoned the rest of Remnant to darkness and to Salem herself. Perhaps they had gotten to Mister Schnee somehow. Perhaps this Principal Cinch was the puppetmaster even now, with her hand up Mister Schnee’s back, opening and closing his mouth while she practiced her ventriloquism.

Or perhaps she is but a puppet of someone yet unseen.

If it were so, he pitied Mister Schnee – and even Principal Cinch, if she too were caught in such a web. As one puppet to another, they would have his sympathies.

The more he learned about events in Atlas, the less he understood them. What game was being played here, in Atlas and indeed across Remnant? In Mistral, they sought a certain girl who could open a vault beneath Haven Academy to obtain a great weapon stored within. Was there such a vault underneath Atlas too, and such a weapon? Did they know of it? Was a certain girl required to open it? Did they seek this girl in Atlas too, the agents of Salem? Did Salem have agents here, who would report to Watts upon his movements and his deeds?

Turnus hoped not for obvious reasons. If they existed, he hoped they would forgive his tarrying in this hotel, watching, waiting, trying to make sense of it all.

The message from Doctor Watts to Principal Cinch was contained in an encrypted drive that had been given to him. He had not read it. He had not been able to read it and feared to try too hard; if it could record that he had tried to break the encryption, then Juturna might pay the price. Not to mention the salient fact that he knew nothing whatsoever about how to go about breaking encryptions, and he led fighters, not technicians.

Perhaps someone in Atlas might have been able to help him, but he knew not where to turn, and to return to the important point, he could not risk that his efforts would be discovered and punished.

He would like nothing more than to turn the game – to see the heads of Watts and Chrysalis on pikes as a warning to those who sought to use him as their instrument – but he dared not take the risk with the safety of those dearest to him.

He was in unknown territory, and he would as likely blunder into some disastrous harm to Juturna and Camilla as he would find an escape for them from this predicament.

He would have to understand more to find a chink in their armour, and until that day, he must be as obedient as a slave.

And, now he had Shining Armor Sparkle coming to speak to him.

Turnus remembered Shining Armor from school. They had been in the same year and the leaders of their respective teams. Shining Armor had been greatly admired by many of their fellow students, and why not? He was handsome, athletic, intelligent, the best in their year in sparring class – even Turnus had to concede that Shining Armor was his superior, though to salve his pride, he maintained there wasn’t much in it. In the year that Turnus had been expelled, he had proved his skill and quality by winning the Vytal Festival – in Turnus’ home city of Mistral, no less. Yes, Shining Armor had been much admired, and yet… and yet, Turnus had found him rather a disappointment at the time.

He had not expected an Atlesian, still less an Atlesian held up as an example for others to follow, to be so emotional.

And yet… And yet.

Who was to say that that was a bad thing? Turnus was rather an emotional man himself in his own way. Shining Armor’s emotion… he had loved his sister, as Turnus could recall. Turnus loved his sister too, and felt no shame in that. He would not give up the love he felt for her any more than he would abandon her to the mercy of their enemies.

Perhaps my disappointment was that, having come all the way to Atlas to find a superior man, I found only a kind of mirror.

Perhaps my disappointment ought to have been directed at myself.

Turnus had tried to read on his flight to Solitas, but he had found it difficult. It was hard to concentrate on reading even the great works of Mistralian literature when his thoughts were so awhirl with dire possibilities.

Instead, he had found himself thinking, and perhaps simply because he was on a yacht with some superficial resemblance to the Tiger Bright, he had found himself thinking of his father.

“So. You mean to go through with this then?”

Turnus’ back straightened. “Yes, Father. I’m going to go to Atlas.”

His father stuck his pipe in his mouth. “If becoming a huntsman is what you wish, then Haven will train you well enough.” He paused. “It is perhaps not the best school, but… well enough, as I said.” He looked up and into his son’s eyes. “But then, you don’t want to become a huntsman, do you?”

“I want to see how a successful kingdom does things,” Turnus declared.

His father sighed as he took the pipe out of his mouth. “Mistral isn’t perfect, I know-”

“Mistral is falling apart!” Turnus cried. “How can you sit back and do nothing while-”

“'Nothing'?” His father repeated. “Is that what you think I do, nothing?”

Turnus shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean… how is catching common criminals and running around the lower levels doing anything to improve the state of this kingdom?”

“Why don’t you ask the people that my officers help everyday that question?” his father asked quietly. “The people who sleep more soundly knowing that the scum are off the streets, why don’t you ask them that question? Why don’t you ask Camilla that question?”

“You know what I mean, Father; helping individuals isn’t helping Mistral!” Turnus snapped. “We can only help Mistral by changing the way we do things, changing the way that we live, by following the example of a kingdom that’s gotten it right, that isn’t in decline.”

“To what end?” his father asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the point?” his father demanded. “You can go to Atlas, learn their ways, bring them back here, and then what?”

“And then…” Turnus hesitated. “Then we shall see the glory of Mistral renewed.”

“'The glory of Mistral,' aye,” his father muttered. “And will that make you happy, son?”

Turnus closed his eyes. No, Father, it has not made me happy.

A part of me wishes you were alive to ask for your counsel; another part of me is glad you are not here to see what a mess I have made of things.

But let’s be honest, if you were alive, I wouldn’t be in this position. You wouldn’t have let any of these vipers within fifty feet of Juturna.

You would have trusted Camilla’s instincts, if not your own.

As he walked over to the table, Turnus turned his attention back to Shining Armor, who should be arriving very soon. Turnus had sent up to his room a bucket of ice and a pair of cut glasses, with the letters GU engraved on them in elegant, curved script. He had brought a few bottles of Imperial tokaji of excellent vintage with him from Mistral, and one of them sat on the table against the wall, next to the glasses and the ice bucket.

There was a knock at the door.

Given that he had two men in the lobby – inconspicuous, of course – and another, far less inconspicuous man outside his door, not to mention the rest of his entourage in the rooms beside his own, Turnus felt confident that this was not someone come to kill him. And so, he answered the door, and lo and behold, Shining Armor Sparkle stood on the other side of it. He had aged since Turnus knew him, as Turnus would have aged since Shining Armor knew him, but he still had the same firm jaw, the same blue eyes; he hadn’t even changed his hair that much. He was dressed in a suit and tie; Turnus was a little surprised he wasn’t wearing a uniform.

I suppose he wants to pretend that this is an informal visit.

“Shining Armor,” he said, injecting warmth into his voice as he held out his hand.

Shining Armor bowed his head. “Lord Rutulus.”

“Turnus, please,” Turnus said. “After all, this is Atlas, not Mistral, and we are old friends, are we not?”

Shining Armor’s look was wary, but he smiled a smile which didn’t reach his eyes and took Turnus’ hand. “Of course we are. It’s good to see you again, Turnus.”

“Likewise,” Turnus said, feeling as though Shining Armor was squeezing his hand harder than necessary. He squeezed back, and the two of them stood that way for a little while, each exerting pressure upon one another. They were of a height, since Turnus was not using his semblance to make himself seem larger or smaller, and evenly matched in strength. At least, that was what Turnus thought after they finally released one another. “Please,” he said. “Come in. Murranus, stay here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Turnus turned his back on Shining Armor and walked back towards the table, leaving Shining Armor to follow. He heard the door shut behind them both.

“I’m told that you are a married man now,” Turnus declared.

“I am,” Shining Armor said, some warmth entering his tone. “In fact, Cadance is expecting our first child.”

“Really?” Turnus gasped. “That is excellent news! Will it be a son or a daughter?”

“We don’t know,” Shining Armor said. “We want it to be a surprise.”

“Ah,” Turnus said. “Either one will be a blessing, I’m sure.” He smiled. “This calls for a drink, don’t you think? I have some very fine Imperial tokaji, laid down in my great-great-grandfather’s time, just before the war, excellent vintage. Will you join me?”

Shining Armor hesitated for a moment. “Sure,” he said.

“I’m glad,” Turnus said. “It would have been very rude of you to refuse.” He scooped some ice into each glass, unstopped the bottle and began to pour.

“And what about you?” Shining Armor asked.

“I am engaged,” Turnus informed him. “Camilla and I will be married… as soon as the current situation stabilises.”

“Congratulations to you too,” Shining Armor said.

“Thank you,” Turnus replied, as he picked up the glasses and carried them over, offering one to Shining Armor. Turnus raised his glass. “To your firstborn.”

Shining Armor raised his glass in turn. “To the women who love us.”

“To good fortune,” Turnus said, before he drank deeply of the liquor, pouring it down his throat. He sighed contentedly. “For we are lucky men, are we not?”

“I know I am,” Shining Armor said.

“As do I,” Turnus said. “Please, sit down.”

“Thanks,” Shining Armor said, taking a seat by the side of the king-sized bed. “Your fiancée, did she come to Atlas with you?”

“No,” Turnus said. “Camilla has remained behind to administer the affairs of my household and enterprises. And you, you did not bring your wife to visit me?”

“Cadance is a little delicate at the moment.”

“Ah, of course,” Turnus said. “No doubt if our ladies were here, we would only bore them with stories of old school friends and days gone past.”

“I don’t know if it would be that long of a conversation,” Shining Armor replied. “All your old school friends are dead.”

Turnus sat down in silence, facing Shining Armor. He did not flinch away. He looked the Atlesian squarely in the eye. “So…” he said. He smiled. “You are a bold man to come in here alone with a man you think is a murderer.”

Shining Armor’s smile still didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps I’m confident that I’m still better than you?”

Turnus laughed bitterly. “I am remembering now how much of a cocksure and self-righteous prig you could be.”

“Prig or prick?”

“Both,” Turnus said. He poured himself another glass of tokaji but did not drain it all in one go this time. He would need to savour it if he wanted to prolong the enjoyment and remain sober. “Whatever you think-”

“I don’t think, I know.”

“You know nothing!” Turunus snapped. He sighed. “I did not come here to refight old battles.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a comfort to the families of those you killed.”

“Don’t try and pluck my heartstrings on their behalf,” Turnus growled. “I have killed or caused the deaths of many men, but none who did not deserve to die.”

“According to you.”

“Yes, according to me! Who else’s judgement should I trust when deciding who shall live and who shall die? My hand, my judgement!” He drank a little more, then put the glass down on the table. “As an ambassador from the Kingdom of Mistral, I am protected by diplomatic immunity, so if your intent is to get some sort of confession out of me-”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Shining Armor said.

“Then why are you here, my old friend?” Turnus demanded. “Why have you come to see me? Did you hope to prick my conscience? Believe me, there is much in my life that I regret, but the deaths of those wretches are not amongst that number.”

“Why?” Shining Armor asked.

“Why what?”

“I want to know why,” Shining Armor repeated. “Why did you do it?”

Turnus was silent for a moment. “Would you not kill a man who insulted and humiliated the woman you love?”

Shining Armor was silent for a moment. “No,” he said. “I might want to, and I might even hurt them, but kill them? No.”

Turnus leaned his head back against the chair. “Clearly, I am too much an antique Mistralian. I am not sure what I thought I could find here; whatever I learnt… my heart would have rebelled against it.” I was never the man to turn Mistral from its path; it was nought but vanity of me to think otherwise.

Pyrrha. It is Pyrrha who is the hope of Mistral, if any living is.

“Why are you here?” Shining Armor asked quietly. “Why have you come back?”

“Why have you come to see me?” Turnus asked.

“Because you haven’t asked to see the Council?”

“Ah, so your wife sent you as her emissary?”

“We’re two old friends, having a drink,” Shining Armor replied. “Reminiscing about old times. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Turnus smiled. “Of course not.” He picked up the bottle. “Would you care for another?”

“No,” Shining Armor said. “I’d prefer answers.”

“You’re not alone,” Turnus muttered under his breath. He raised his voice to say, “Tell me about Menagerie.”

Shining Armor’s brow furrowed. “What do you want to know?”

“I want confirmation of what I’ve found out,” Turnus said. “I want someone close to the circles of power to tell me what they know.”

Shining Armor considered for a moment. “Atlas has recognised Menagerie as an official kingdom,” he said, “and agreed to fund the construction of a CCT tower and a huntsman academy on the island, as well as providing equipment and resources to begin dust mining.”

“Dust mining which will not be under the aegis of the SDC,” Turnus said. “Why not?”

“Because Menagerie deserves the chance to profit from its own natural resources,” Shining Armor said.

“I see,” Turnus said. “That is… a very noble attitude.” He chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Shining Armor asked.

“I’m just thinking that we in Mistral pride ourselves on our nobility, our honour,” Turnus declared. “Yet none in Mistral would have been so generous as you have been if Menagerie had come knocking on our door.”

“Maybe that’s why they didn’t come knocking on your door,” Shining Armor suggested.

“Perhaps,” Turnus allowed. “Or perhaps the presence of the Warrior Princess of Menagerie had something to do with it.”

“You are well-informed.”

“I’ve had two days with little to do but find things out,” Turnus replied. “I am sorry that I’ve missed the chance to meet the Dragonslayer. It sounds like a marvel.”

“I believe she goes by ‘she,’” Shining Armor said.

“Does she care?”

“Just because she’s a robot doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings,” Shining Armor replied.

Turnus’ eyebrows rose. “I assumed that not having feelings was the point.”

Shining Armor laughed. “If you had met Penny… boy, would you be in for a big surprise.”

“You sharpen my curiosity,” Turnus said.

“Perhaps the Council could arrange something, if you met with them.”

“Would it not be better to wait until after the election?” Turnus asked. “That way, I can meet with the whole Council and put my case without having to worry about what may change when the ballots are cast.”

“And what will you say when you do meet them?” Shining Armor pressed.

“Your agreements with Menagerie are bilateral, yes?” Turnus asked in turn. “Mistral has not recognised Menagerie as a kingdom, and I fear I cannot say whether we would be willing to do so, but leave that for a moment. A bilateral agreement, an alliance between Mistral and Atlas, that is why I am here.”

“Mistral and Atlas are already allies.”

“We were allies,” Turnus corrected him, “through a system of the world which no longer exists. A world which died when the towers went down.”

“The towers will rise again,” Shining Armor said. “When the tower on Menagerie is complete-”

“Then Mistral would have a trusted friend in Atlas, ready to stand beside us,” Turnus said.

“What does Mistral need a friend for?” Shining Armor demanded.

Turnus smiled. For my dreams which are now worth less to me than dust. Although that did raise a good question for which he did not really have an answer. Even his instructions from the Council were rather vague on that front – appropriate, since Chrysalis had arranged the whole thing as a means to get him to Atlas and in touch with Principal Cinch. “We are having some difficulties with grimm and bandits, although the latter problem is slowly resolving itself. We could use some Atlesian military assistance, both directly and in the form of advisers.”

“'Advisers'?” Shining Armor repeated. “Advisers on what?”

“You asked me why I was here, and I answered,” Turnus said. “You asked me why I had not yet approached the Council, and I answered that as well. I did not think you were here to negotiate with me on the Council’s behalf.”

“No,” Shining Armor conceded. “No, I’m not. I suppose you have told me what I wanted to know. Which means I guess we’re done here.”

“So it would seem,” Turnus said, rising from his seat as Shining Armor did likewise. He held out his hand. “I know – now at least – that you do not like me, but for my part, it has been good to see you.”

Shining Armor eyed his hand warily. “I wish that I could say the same, but… thanks for speaking to me, all the same. Cadance and Ironwood will be interested in hearing what you’ve told me.” He took Turnus’ hand.

Turnus pulled him forwards, wrapping his other arm around Shining Armor, embracing him like a brother; and into Shining Armor’s ear, he whispered a word, one single word: “Chrysalis.”

Visitors From the South

Visitors From the South

Turnus took another sip of his tokaj as he stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out across Atlas. It had started to rain upon the city in the clouds, the raindrops hammering against the window, distorting the view of the shining kingdom, turning the lights to blurs upon the glass. He could still see it, though; he could still see the cold beauty of this place.

Mistral was like a man: a great man once, but gone to seed from years of luxury and idleness, sagging down the hill and spilling out into the valleys beyond, his silk shirt unable to conceal the fact that his socks had holes in them. Atlas was like a machine: streamlined, efficient, all the parts working together for the greater benefit of the whole. This was a city which never slept.

A city which does not love?

Turnus frowned, unsure of where, exactly, that thought had come from. Had his father said anything like that? Surely not. Although he may have thought it. His father had never approved of androids or such-like. He had vetoed a proposal to employ them on his police force.

Turnus sometimes wondered if he’d still be alive if he’d trusted robots to watch his back instead of men who proved unworthy of his trust.

He took another drink.

He had wanted to make Mistral more of a machine. He had wanted to make it more efficient. He had wanted to make a second Atlas in Anima, confident as he had been that he would be the one with his hands upon the levers.

Instead, it looked as though he might be crushed between the gears if he wasn’t careful, and Camilla and Juturna with him, what was more.

He turned away. The sight of Atlas, it… it no longer pleased him as it once had, even a few moments ago. It was, as he had to admit, a cold beauty. A machine’s beauty: admirable, perhaps, but not desirable.

He walked to the table and put his glass down before he drank too much. It was true that he had nothing better to do, but that was no excuse. He was the head of the Rutulus family, envoy of Mistral, and family and kingdom both alike were counting on him.

He walked to the bed and sat down upon it, resting his elbows on his knees, the tips of his fingers touching. He wondered what Shining Armor would do with his warning. Would he even know what it meant? It was not much of a warning, a single word whispered into his ear, but it was all that Turnus dared to give. Shining Armor had demanded details, of course, but Turnus had refused to give them up, pretending not to know what he was talking about.

Childish, perhaps, but necessary. He would warn the Atlesians of what awaited them in Mistral, but he could not, would not, dared not, give too much away: not who Chrysalis was or where she was or what her plans were. Anything that cried out ‘Turnus Rutulus has betrayed you,’ he would not venture.

He could not, not even for Mistral’s sake, and certainly not for the sake of Atlas.

Perhaps his warning had been too vague. Perhaps it did not tell enough for the Atlesians to do anything. Perhaps General Ironwood would not believe a word out of his lips, because Turnus Rutulus was but a killer to him, the person who had slaughtered his own team or left them to die.

That was his choice. Turnus had done all he could.

Now, having warned some Atlesians against Chrysalis, he had now to approach some other Atlesians on behalf of Chrysalis, and moreover, to do so without it being obvious who he was talking to. If Shining Armor was able to persuade General Ironwood to have him followed, then it could cause difficulties for Principal Cinch, and those difficulties might cause Juturna great pain in consequence.

He had made a rod for his own back, but it was by the far the lightest of such rods that he had crafted through his folly.

Turnus got up and went to the door, opening it to find Ufens there, standing guard in front of it. A tall, broad-shouldered, bald-headed man, Ufens was one of the oldest members of Rutulian Security, a Haven-trained huntsman whom Turnus had hired when he established the company to lend some experienced combat power to the fledgling force. He was dressed in an RS uniform: a black bodysuit with an equally black armoured vest protecting his torso, and in his hands, he held his weapon in rifle mode, gripped tightly in his gloved hands.

He had his back to Turnus, but half turned to look at him, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “My lord?”

“Get Nisus and Euryalus in here,” Turnus commanded. “I want to see them both.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Turnus shut the door, walking back into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. His men, even the trusted ones that he had brought with him to Atlas, knew nothing of his real mission here. They knew only that he was on a mission for the Council.

Perhaps the secrecy was a mistake, but if he told them that he had submitted to the authority of another, then he would look weak, and if he told them that he was merely pretending to submit, then… Chrysalis had infiltrated his home; how could he know that she had not suborned some of his men as well?

His father had trusted the officers who served under him, and he had been repaid with a bullet in the back. Turnus trusted his men, he wanted to trust them, he would trust them with his life in battle, but with his sister’s life? No. Better that they should remain ignorant until the last possible moment.

He clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a lordly bearing and an air of unruffled command as he waited for his men.

It did not take them long to arrive, nor for Ufens to use the spare keycard in his possession – Turnus did not want to be in a position where he was being murdered inside his hotel room and his men were unable to come to his aid – to open the door for them.

They were an odd pair, Nisus and Euryalus. Euryalus was the older of the two, a man of mature years, his long, dark hair and beard alike streaked with grey, his body concealed beneath a cloak of forest green. He was a countryman by upbringing and profession, a herdsman and gamekeeper upon the Rutulus’ estates. A good shot, a good runner and a good man for sneaking around, Turnus felt that he had been wasted keeping poachers away or keeping the wolves from the flock.

Nisus was not the best man in Rutulian Security, but he was by general consensus the prettiest, a fact that might even last once he became old enough to shave. He was only sixteen years old, and Turnus would have gladly sent him to Haven next year in different circumstances. His father had been a police officer, one of the few good ones, and just like Turnus’ father, he had been killed for refusing to become one of the bad ones. Turnus had taken the young man on in order to save his mother from destitution; it had felt like the least he could do in memory of a man who had served his father well, and he too had proven to have some talent as a scout.

As he had said, Haven would have been glad of him in a year’s time in normal circumstances, but Turnus was glad of him now.

Nisus and Euryalus. The two of them were practically inseparable, although Turnus was not sure what the precise nature of their relationship was; so long as they did their jobs – and they did – it was none of his concern. He was simply glad to have them here.

“I have a job for you,” he declared. “A job which only you can do.”

The two of them glanced at one another, puzzled looks upon their faces. “We are at your service, my lord,” Euryalus said.

Turnus picked up his scroll and sent them both an address. “I need you to go to the location that I have just sent you and demand an audience with Principal Abacus Cinch. Don’t take no for an answer; use my name and status, and it should open the door for you. Once you see her – and make sure that you see her and not some flunky or functionary – present my compliments and tell her that I wish to meet with her discreetly, upon a matter of import for both our kingdoms. Don’t leave until she has given you a time and place, then come back here and report to me. And you must do all of this without being seen or followed or identified, do you understand?”

“I understand the what, my lord, but not the why,” Nisus said.

“It is not our place to know,” Euryalus said. “We will obey your commands, of course, my lord.”

Turnus raised one hand. “That is good to know, Euryalus, but Nisus raises a good point.” He fell silent for a moment. It would be best to tell them something, if only to emphasise the importance of success in this enterprise. “I don’t know how much attention you men have been paying to what is going on in Atlas.”

Nisus looked down at his feet. “Not really, my lord.”

Turnus smiled thinly. “There is an election going on in Atlas at the moment. Different factions are vying for control. I have been commanded by the Council to make contact with a representative of one of those factions… but I do not wish the other faction to know that I am doing so. If they discover it, my mission may end in failure with dire consequences for Mistral… and for my house. Do you understand?”

“I understand the import, my lord,” Euryalus declared. “Though the politics go over my head. Nonetheless, I understand enough; you may rest assured we will not fail you.”

Nisus grinned. “We’ll be less solid than shadows, my lord; they’ll never spot us.”

Turnus nodded. “I have no doubt, nor should you have any doubt that I will not be ungrateful for this service. You will both be well-rewarded for your success in this, I guarantee it.”

“If it please, my lord, I’d rather the reward go to my mother,” Nisus said. “She could do with a treat.”

“Of course,” Turnus agreed. “Of course. That will be all, go to it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ironwood leaned back in his chair. “'Chrysalis'?” he said. “You’re sure that was what he said?”

“I’m not likely to forget the name, sir,” Shining Armor muttered darkly.

Ironwood held up one hand. “Of course not,” he said quietly. “I believe you; I’m just a little taken by surprise. And he said nothing else?”

“Nothing,” Shining Armor replied. “Not even when I pressed him; he wouldn’t say anything else, just that it was time for me to go.”

Ironwood found himself once more in Councillor Cadenza’s house – in her bedroom, in fact – with Shining Armor standing by her side. Things were a little different now than they had been before: Twilight and all her friends had gone; he could no longer hear them talking – or grumbling – down the hall. In the bedroom, they had been joined by someone new: Lieutenant Flash Sentry of the Consular Guard. He was not someone well known to Ironwood, and his mother was one of Jacques’ backers – or should that be handlers? – but Shining Armor spoke well of him, as did many other people who were not associated with Jacques Schnee, and he had proved his mettle at the Battle of Vale, losing a leg during the fight for Beacon.

And he had some experience working with Valish law enforcement, which was more than Ironwood could say for most of those he trusted more.

“Of all the things,” Ironwood said, “that I thought you might hear from our Mistralian guest, that name was not one of them.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” Lieutenant Sentry ventured.

Ironwood nodded. “Go ahead, Mister Sentry.”

“I know that we don’t know exactly what this means, and that some of the implications could be worrying, but could this not also be a good thing?” Lieutenant Sentry suggested. “We’ve been worried that Chrysalis would seek revenge on Twilight or Councillor Cadenza or that she was hiding out in Atlas somewhere waiting to strike, but it seems that that isn’t the case.”

“Can we be sure of that?” Shining Armor demanded.

“No,” Lieutenant Sentry admitted. “But if she were here in Atlas, how would a man newly arrived from Mistral know about it?”

“You make a good point, Lieutenant,” Ironwood allowed. “We did assume that she would remain in Atlas, seeking her revenge against those who put her away, but it’s possible that she fled to Mistral instead.”

“But why?” Councillor Cadenza asked. “What is in Mistral for her?”

“Perhaps it’s nothing more than the fact that she’s not actively being hunted in Mistral,” Ironwood suggested. “Perhaps it’s the fact that the Atlas chapter of the White Fang is essentially dead, and she wanted to make contact with the organisation. If so, she may no longer be in Mistral either, but have been passed up the line to Menagerie.”

“Or come back to Atlas,” Shining Armor suggested. “Even if Turnus was telling the truth, it would only be true as he knew it; there’s no telling where Chrysalis could have gone since he left Mistral for Atlas.”

“Also true,” Ironwood said. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’m not going to reduce the security detail around your wife, the rest of the council, or Twilight just yet.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The continued mystery around Chrysalis’ location is only one question,” Councillor Cadenza reminded them all. “The other is how did Turnus Rutulus know where she was? They’re hardly natural associates.”

“Indeed,” Ironwood said.

“Maybe she did make contact with the White Fang, and they launched an attack in which she was identified by the Mistralians?” Lieutenant Sentry suggested.

“Then why not say that?” Shining Armor asked. “Why be so coy about it?”

“Coy or cloak and dagger?” Ironwood mused. “Considering his reluctance to talk to you about events in Mistral, I wonder why he brought it up at all. If he thought it was important, why only give us a name? If he didn’t think it was important then why drop the name?”

“He hasn’t caught her,” Shining Armor said firmly. “If he had, he would have gloated about it.”

“Are you sure?” Councillor Cadenza asked.

“Yes,” Shining Armor replied. “He didn’t sound smug; he sounded…” He trailed off.

“Go on,” Councillor Cadenza urged.

“Concerned?” Shining Armor ventured. “Worried? Like he was trying to warn me, maybe? It was hard to tell, but it was something like that.”

“But warn us about what? If he really wanted to warn us, then why not give details?” Ironwood asked. He closed his eyes. He had enough conspiratorial subterfuge on his plate with Salem and the battle against her; now even unrelated matters like Chrysalis and the Mistralian embassy came cloaked in shadows.

I am not cut out for this. He would have wished for Ozpin’s counsel, but… honestly, he was starting to wonder if even Ozpin had been cut out for this.

We were made to face our enemies in the light, not in the shadows.

Nevertheless, it was on him to do something about this. He was the man at the top of the pyramid, standing at the apex with all the weight pressing down on him.

Others could help him bear the weight, but he still had to make the calls.

“Lieutenant,” he said, “I understand you worked with the VPD during your time at Beacon.”

Lieutenant Sentry nodded tentatively. “A little, sir.”

“You ever tail somebody?”

“We had someone under observation, yes, sir,” Lieutenant Sentry replied.

“Good,” Ironwood said. “I want you to go to the Glass Unicorn hotel, and if Turnus Rutulus comes out, I want you to follow him, discreetly. Find out where he’s going, who he’s talking to, anything you can. Just don’t let him know that you’re on to him; he is a diplomat, after all.”

Lieutenant Sentry frowned. “Are you sure that you want me for this, sir? Isn’t there someone better suited?”

“'Better suited'? Perhaps,” Ironwood conceded. “Better suited that I can trust? No. I command soldiers, Mister Sentry, not detectives; you are… uniquely qualified in that regard.”

“And the actual detectives, sir?”

“I’d prefer to keep this as confidential as possible,” Ironwood replied. “It seems that there is a lot that Turnus Rutulus doesn’t want to say openly, and that makes me inclined to do likewise.”

“I… see,” Lieutenant Sentry murmured. “Very well, sir, I’ll get right on it.”

“Thank you,” Ironwood said. “Captain Armor and I will ensure that your absence from the guard doesn’t impact you; you’ll be noted as absent on duty.”

“It’s not my attendance that worries me, sir; it’s my mother,” Lieutenant Sentry admitted with a sheepish smile. “She got me the guard position to keep me out of harm’s way.”

“If you do your job properly, Lieutenant, you won’t be in harm’s way,” Ironwood told him. He hesitated. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I appreciate this.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lieutenant Sentry replied. He glanced at Shining Armour and Councillor Cadenza. “I won’t let you down, sir, ma’am.”

Shining Armor nodded. Councillor Cadenza smiled. “Thank you, Flash. I appreciate this, and Twilight will too.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Lieutenant Sentry’s mouth. “Weiss might not be so appreciative, but she’ll understand. I hope.”

“She will,” Councillor Cadneza assured him. “If she truly cares about you, if she loves you, then she’ll understand. She’ll understand, as we all come to understand, that this is just part of what it means to love a soldier.” The smile on her face faded as she turned her attention once more to Ironwood. “What about Mistral? What if Chrysalis is there?”

Ironwood gave no immediate reply. There was no immediately obvious course of action. Sending someone to Mistral to investigate was one possibility, although with worldwide communications down, they would have no way of reporting the results of their investigation beyond coming back to Atlas to make their report, by which time, the information they had acquired would be obsolete.

He could send an agent with broad authority to do whatever it took to get Chrysalis, dead or alive, without the necessity of reporting to him, but the agent or team that he sent would have to be very capable, and capable of operating independently, what was more.

Belladonna immediately came to mind, as someone who had been to Mistral in the past and who had experience operating independently of command supervision. But Belladonna was someone he could ill-afford to lose on a potential wild good chase like this, and even if he could, asking her to go up against Chrysalis alone would be… difficult, to say the least. And yet, to give her backup would involve putting even more of his best people out of reach.

Ultimately, as dangerous as Chrysalis was, she paled in comparison to the threat posed by Salem and her forces. He couldn’t denude himself of his best people hunting a White Fang commander, however malicious, and then have no one to depend upon when the real evil made her play.

It was hard to explain that to people who were not in the know regarding Salem, of course.

“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”

“But you will do something,” Shining Armor insisted.

“I will,” Ironwood said, and hoped he wouldn’t have to break that promise. “I just don’t know what.”

“We understand,” Councillor Cadenza replied. “This must be a lot to take in for you, General.”

“It’s certainly food for thought,” Ironwood acknowledged.

“Do you think that we ought to send word to Menagerie?” Councillor Cadenza said. “If Chrysalis goes there from Mistral, she might not be too pleased to learn about our alliance with the Belladonna family, not to mention our activities there.”

“I’m not sure it would make much difference,” Ironwood admitted. “As per our agreement with the High Chieftain and Lady Belladonna, we can’t send any troops to Menagerie to deal with Chrysalis anyway; we’re wholly reliant upon our alliance with the Belladonnas and the forbearance of the White Fang.” Kali Belladonna had insisted, rightly, that an Atlesian military presence would not go down well with the civilian population; she had also insisted that the White Fang would not attack an obviously peaceful expedition, and that was something that he had to take her word for.

Councillor Cadenza nodded. “I agree, but surely, we could send a message, warning not only our own people but also the Belladonnas? After all, we are allies.”

Ironwood considered that for a moment, and nodded. “I’ll see to it,” he said. The occasional airship did head out for Menagerie every so often, mostly carrying messages and care packages for the boys on the Fearless from the folks back home. It wouldn’t be difficult to add a message for the Belladonnas on top of that warning them that an escaped White Fang firebrand might be on her way.

He wasn’t sure what, if anything, they would be able to do about it, but they would not be able to say that Atlas had kept them in the dark.

“And now, Councillor, I’ll leave you to get your rest. Lieutenant, Major Schnee will be your point of contact on this operation; keep in regular touch with her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you need backup, the codeword is ‘Canterlot’; if you spot Chrysalis, the word is ‘bride.’”

“I feel the urge to point out that Chrysalis was never the bride,” Councillor Cadenza muttered. “She kidnapped the bride and impersonated her, but that did not make her the bride at my wedding. Not even when she was walking down the aisle.”

“My apologies, Councillor,” Ironwood said, without changing the codewords. “Captain. Lieutenant.”

“Sir,” Lieutenant Sentry said, standing to attention.

“Goodnight, sir.”

“And you, Captain Sparkle,” Ironwood said, as he took his leave of them. He left the house, returning to his car which had waited outside for him while he met with the Councillor and her husband, and as his android driver – his rank entitled him to a human driver, if he wished, but it seemed rather pretentious when so many people made do with androids to chauffeur them about. As far as he knew, not even Jacques Schnee had a human chauffeur, and he had a living, breathing butler for crying out loud.

Besides, the knight in the front seat didn’t want to talk.

There was a reason androids were replacing cab drivers all over Atlas.

As the silent robot drove him home, Ironwood got out his scroll and called Brevet Major Winter Schnee.

“Sir?” she responded, her face on the screen of his device impassive.

“How are things, Major?” he asked her. “Anything I should know about?”

“Ten o’clock, and all’s well, sir,” Major Schnee responded. “Nothing to be concerned about. How did things go with Councillor Cadenza and Captain Armor?”

“It was confusing, through no fault of Armor; Turnus Rutulus seems to have wanted to be cryptic. I’ve assigned Lieutenant Sentry to tail him. He’ll be reporting to you.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, sir,” Major Schnee replied in a tone so dry it belonged in Vacuo instead of Atlas.

“I’m sorry to put such a burden on you, Major,” Ironwood said, a slight sigh in his voice. “It’s the downside of being one of the few I can trust.”

“It’s fine, sir; I can do the work,” Major Schnee assured him. “It’s not as though you’re taking it easy.”

“I am now,” Ironwood told her. “And you should do the same. Get yourself home and find your bed, while you still have the chance.”

“Soon, sir.”

“I recommend you do it now, Major,” Ironwood said. “Before something comes along to keep you pinned down there.”

Major Schnee smiled. “I’ll bear that in mind, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Winter,” Ironwood said, before hanging up.

He arrived at his house; the car drove off as soon as he got out; he would have to summon it again in the morning if he wished it, but for now, he didn’t even watch it go as he walked towards the door.

The door was locked, but after he unlocked it and stepped inside, he realised that the alarm was off.

Due Process was on his holster at his hip; slowly, Ironwood reached for it as he stepped inside the dark and unlit house. As he drew his pistol, Ironwood groped for the nearest light switch with his free hand.

“The code for the alarm is still his birthday,” the familiar voice: young, female, slightly accented, issued forth from out of the darkness. “That is foolish of you, General.”

“Aska?” Ironwood whispered, tentatively, like someone stepping out upon ice not knowing if it would break beneath his weight or not. He found the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the austere hallway. Illuminating Aska, too, dressed in a mail mesh, a sword slung across her back. It had been a while since he had seen her last, but she hadn’t changed that much; her hair was longer now, and worn in a ponytail tied behind her, but it was still the same brown hair and the same bangs that parted in the centre to frame the same face. “Aska,” he repeated, his voice still a whisper. He holstered his weapon, having no need of it now, but found… he did not know what else to do. What else to say.

She was… home. His daughter was home, and yet… he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He wanted to go to her, embrace her, hold her tight, and yet… he could not. He was frozen. Trapped in ice. Held still by everything that had passed between them, the words said, the manner of their parting, the memories, Kogetsu’s death… it all added up to a wall separating him from Aska, a wall which he could not break down while she willed that it remain.

And so he could not move. He could not even find the words to express…

She had not called him Father, but General. She had never served in his army – she had dropped out of the Academy long before graduation – and yet, she called him General. Not because she had to but because she wanted to. Because she did not want to call him Father.

Very well. If that was how she wanted it, then he would respect that. He would restrain himself and all that he wished to say to her and how he wished to treat her and respect her wish that they should be professional.

As professional as he could be in the circumstances.

“How… how have you been?” he asked, his voice becoming a little hoarse.

“I am content,” Aska replied, her voice quiet. “My health is good, and my skills improve with continual practice.”

“I see,” Ironwood said softly.

“And yourself, General?” Aska inquired politely.

“I… have been busy,” Ironwood answered.

“Of course,” Aska murmured. “I thought that likely. And how is Rainbow Dash?” she added, a touch of venom seeping into her voice.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Dash and I…” He decided not to tell her that he and Dash were not as close as they had been, not least because he was coming to regret how hard he had been on her. Yes, she’d made a mistake, but then, he should have taught her better to avoid that mistake, and to punish her by turning his back on her… it had been too hard, after everything that she’d done and been through…

“They’re not your children, James.”

“They’re as good as.”

What kind of father turns his back on his children when they disappoint him?

A bad one, was the answer that came to mind, and he couldn’t really deny it. Especially not with Aska standing in front of him. “Dash is a Specialist now,” he told her.

“I see,” Aska said. Her next words came quickly, as if she were trying to get them out as quickly as possible. “I am glad that she survived the battle. I know it would have grieved you if she had fallen. Congratulations, upon your victory.”

“'Congratulations'?” Ironwood repeated.

“It does not bring you joy?”

“No,” Ironwood said. “No, it does not.” He paused for a moment. “What are you doing here, Aska? How are you here?”

“I stowed away upon a ship from Mistral.”

“Stowed away on a…” Ironwood trailed off for a moment. “You didn’t sneak aboard the ambassador’s ship?”

“No,” Aska said. “The airship I was aboard was not so hostile.”

“And yet you still had to stow away.”

Aska nodded. “Pyrrha would not have entrusted this errand to me… unless I had confided more in her than I wished.”

“Pyrrha?” Ironwood said. “Pyrrha Nikos?”

“She has been my mistress these past months,” Aska announced calmly.

“Your mistress? I think you’d better explain what’s going on and what you’re doing here.”

Ironwood’s scroll began to buzz.

“You should answer that,” Aska suggested.

“It can wait,” Ironwood told her. “I want to know-”

His scroll continued to buzz insistently.

“I recommend that you answer that, General,” Aska repeated. “I think I can say that it is important.”

Ironwood frowned but did as she suggested, taking the scroll out of his pocket and answering it. “What?” he demanded, a little more testily than whoever was on the other end of the scroll deserved.

It turned out to be Winter Schnee. “Apologies for bothering you, sir,” she said. “I should have taken your advice.”

“My advice?”

“And gotten away while I could,” Winter explained.

“Something’s come up, Major?” Ironwood asked.

“There’s a woman just arrived at Atlas calling herself Lady Hippolyta Nikos,” Winter informed him. “She says that she’s Pyrrha Nikos’ mother, that she’s come from Mistral, and that she needs to speak to you personally. And she’s refusing to leave until she does.”

Ironwood glanced at Aska, who nodded in response to the unspoken question. “Did she say why she needs to speak to me so urgently?”

“Apparently,” Winter said, “it concerns Professor Ozpin’s business.”

Ozpin’s business. Pyrrha Nikos had certainly known all about that, and it was not implausible that she might choose to tell her mother about it, even if it was not what Ozpin himself would have wanted her to do. Aska had confirmed that it really was Pyrrha’s mother – although he still didn’t understand the exact circumstances under which she had known that – and it seemed that Pyrrha had sent her mother here to speak to him, with Aska deciding to tag along.

Ozpin’s business. Was he at last about to find out what was going on? Was Salem moving against Mistral next? Was the relic safe?

There wasn’t much point standing here asking himself these questions when he could go to Atlas and get the answers from Hippolyta Nikos, was there?

“Take her to my office,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”

Ambush in Mantle

Ambush in Mantle

When Rainbow Dash and Applejack told her that the Shadowbolts were jerks… Blake would never have expected that they’d have turned out to be underselling it.

Blake sat in the back of a cargo truck, the grey metallic walls enclosing her and her travelling companions, with no windows out into the world beyond their vehicle or even the cab where the androids were driving them through the Mantle streets. There was nothing in this little world but the six of them.

Which meant, unfortunately, that there was no way of getting away from them.

Sunny Flare was watching the news on her scroll – Sugarcoat was watching too, even if she had to lean on Sunny’s shoulder to do it – which at least meant that none of them were talking at the moment, although they would probably start again soon.

“In an attempt to revive his embattled campaign for the vacant Council seat, Jacques Schnee gave a speech in which he promised to reduce what he called overspend in the military budget to repair holes in the tattered social safety net-”

Sunny’s lip curled into a sneer as she slammed her scroll shut and put it away. “Typical. Absolutely typical. And I thought Principal Cinch endorsing him meant he was going to be different. Instead, he’s just like all the rest, pandering to these animals.”

“Excuse me?” Blake asked, her glance flickering between Sunny Flare and the faunus Lemon Zest – a pony faunus, like Rainbow Dash – who was sitting next to her.

Sunny gave Blake a flat stare in return. Sunny Flare was about of a height with Blake herself – Blake’s ears might have given her the edge in that department – with cerise eyes set in a round face. Her hair was purple with streaks of raspberry red, and cut short above her shoulders with a straight fringe. Like everyone in the truck – except for Blake – she was dressed in a black bodysuit, with hardened armour-like plates protecting the chest, shoulders, elbows, and knees. She had what looked like a flamethrower, with a glowing red tank of fire dust, resting on the floor of the vehicle behind her feet.

“Is there a problem, dearie?” she asked.

Sour Sweet laughed. She was the leader of this operation – everyone seemed to obey her orders, at least – and she was the tallest and, as far as Blake could tell, the fittest of the Shadowbolts; she moved with an athletic grace that reminded Blake of Pyrrha a little. Her eyes were indigo and brought out by the copious amounts of sickly green eyeshadow which she was wearing, while her complexion otherwise seemed a little jaundiced to Blake’s eyes. Her hair was rose-coloured and worn in a long ponytail descending down her back, with a single streak of aquamarine running through it. She wore a bow slung across her back, with a sealed quiver of arrows upon each hip.

“Oh, don’t get upset, Blake,” she said, in a soft tone, “Sunny wasn’t talking about faunus… she was talking about the poor.”

“It’s disgraceful,” Sunny declared. “This city is filling up with unemployed wasters who do nothing but cause trouble and complain about how hard their pathetic lives are, and no politician has the guts to tell them to stop moaning and pull themselves up by their bootstraps.”

“Really?” Blake murmured.

“The fact of the matter is that Mantle is doomed,” Sugarcoat pronounced in a dry, authoritative tone. She was the one that Blake had met before, at the party in Atlas when Jacques Schnee had announced he was running for Council, and she still wore her hair in the same triple tails on either side of and behind her head. She had what looked like a sniper rifle – or possibly a DMR – slung across her back, while an elegant sabre with an ornately-decorated hilt and a blade that looked so fragile it resembled glass more than metal rested upon her knees. “The mines were running dry in Nicholas Schnee’s time, and even continuing deep-level exploration and the concentration of dust processing here hasn’t made up the difference. The Willow Wells aren’t delivering one fifth of what they were predicted to on discovery, and the deeper the SDC digs, the more man-hours are lost to accidents.”

“Not to mention the men themselves,” Blake said softly.

Sugarcoat either didn’t hear or didn’t want to respond, because she continued as if Blake hadn’t spoken. “At the moment, the Council pays the SDC millions in tax breaks and subsidies to maintain operations in Mantle, but eventually, that’s not going to be enough to make it profitable to keep wasting money like this. Mantle needs to transition to a new model, or it needs to be allowed to die; it’s as simple as that.”

“It’s probably not as simple as it sounds,” Blake said.

“Crystal City did it,” Sugarcoat pointed out. “The name came from the mine the town grew up around and the dust crystals of superior purity that were dug up there. Then the mine ran out, and the city had to find some other way of justifying its existence. And it did; it became a testbed for military R&D. And now, it’s thriving like never before.”

“But of course, in Mantle, they’d rather bitch and moan and blame it all on Atlas,” Sunny growled. “I think the best thing that they could do for Mantle right now is to suspend all the laws for a night and let us just sweep through it, like a purge or something.”

“That wouldn’t solve any long term problems,” Sugarcoat pointed out in a dry tone.

“Maybe not, but there’d be fewer useless mouths to feed,” Sunny replied.

“Are you serious?!” Blake cried.

Sunny smirked. “Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?”

Blake got to her feet. “You’re talking about indiscriminate mass murder; you’re damn right I’m offended!”

Sunny’s smile remained fixed in place as a chuckle escaped her. She followed Blake up and onto her feet, walking forwards until mere inches, if that, separated the two of them.

“The Warrior Princess of Menagerie,” she said softly. “You know, I wasn’t sure why you would want to come to Atlas after the Battle of Vale, but now I get it! You hung around with Rainbow Dash and the Canterlot crew and you actually bought all of their crap. Comrades standing shoulder to shoulder, we fight as one, the Mettle, the spirit of Appleoosa, and all the other garbage, you thought that was what we were, didn’t you?” She chuckled again. “Newsflash, dearie, that’s not who we are. Despite what those losers think, Atlas didn’t get where it is today by being nice. Atlas got where it is today by being tougher, harder, and meaner than anyone who might try to mess with us, and by rejecting anything and anyone who makes us weak. So if you think I’m going to hold back on your account, you can think again. Only the strong deserve to survive, and all the strength left Mantle long ago.”

“Come on, Sunny, if that were true, it wouldn’t be any fun to do anything about it,” Indigo Zap declared. She wore her hair in the same style as Rainbow Dash – and like Dash, she wore a set of goggles perched just above her golden eyes – but all of the warm colours had been leached out of it, leaving only cool blues, a deep cornflower shot through with lighter arctic streaks. She had no visible weapons, but her gauntlets glowed yellow with what Blake guessed to be lightning dust. “The whole point of this mission is that we get to test ourselves against these Happy Huntresses. Personally, I hope they put up a fight. It’s only by testing ourselves against the best that we become better, right?”

Yes, the mission. The reason Blake was in here with these people. The reason she had come down to Mantle in the first place, the reason they were all hiding in this truck. A group known as the Happy Huntresses - led by Robyn Hill, of whom Rainbow Dash was decidedly not fond - had been stealing military supplies from trucks moving between depots in the city. The plan was to conceal themselves in just such a truck and proceed to ambush the ambushers; more Shadowbolts – Fleur de Lis, Jet Set, Upper Crust, and Suri Polomare – were waiting with a Skyray to provide air support if necessary.

“With luck,” Sour Sweet had said at the briefing, “we’ll be able to arrest all four of these ‘Happy Huntresses’ and put this whole business to bed in a single night.” Her face hardened. “And if we don’t, then I’ll know just whose incompetence was to blame.”

Blake's eyes narrowed as she continued to stare at Sunny Flare. “General Ironwood-”

“Is a man out of his time,” Sugarcoat declared. “A throwback to a bygone era.”

“I don’t believe that,” Blake said. “Everything that I’ve seen-”

How much was that, really?

Even Rainbow Dash was surprised by the character of the commanding officer when we got to Cold Harbour.

“Aren’t you seeing us?” Sugarcoat asked.

Blake glanced once more to Lemon Zest, the other faunus in the truck besides her. Her eyes were closed, and on top of her long green hair sat a set of customised headphones that covered all four of her ears. She was tapping one foot on the floor of the truck, while her weapon – some sort of cannon with a chainsaw grip – sat propped against the wall beside her.

“Yeah, Lemon’s not going to have your back; she’ll be out of it until the mission begins,” Sunny told her.

“Heeeeeey,” Sour Sweet said, drawing out the word as she took Blake and Sunny by the shoulders and carefully pushed them away from one another. “Come on, girls, let’s not fight each other. After all, we are on a combat mission.” She laughed. “And Sunny, Principal Cinch asked Blake to come along on this mission because she sees something in her, so I think that she’d want us to gently mentor Blake into the proper way of doing things, not push her away with… well… with all of your you.” She smiled. “Plus, you know, we’re in the hot zone right now, so I suggest you both sit down, shut up, and get set for an intervention; do I make myself clear?!”

Sunny sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Yes,” she muttered.

“Okay,” Blake muttered.

“That’s better,” Sour Sweet said. “By which, of course, I mean it took you long enough.” She waited for them to both sit down before she stalked back to her seat.

“May I say one more thing?” Sugarcoat asked.

Sour Sweet stared at her. “Do you have to?”

“I’d just like to leave Blake with one thought,” Sugarcoat said. “Jacques Schnee has been publicly accused of condoning the physical abuse of his workforce, and yet, he is still polling at above thirty percent.”

Blake looked away and didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure how to reply because… because, damn it, she was right. That did say something about Atlas, and what it said wasn’t good. Even if you assumed the best case scenario that a lot of people were so disconnected from politics they hadn’t noticed the allegations, well… that wasn't brilliant, either. It was just a little better than the idea that they just didn’t care.

She had told herself that Jacques Schnee and the SDC was an anomaly, that it was an outlier in the emerging Atlas that she had seen, but had she been wrong? Were they right, were they the real face of Atlas, was the SDC the real face of Atlas, was Jacques Schnee the real face of Atlas? Were all the friends that she had made, Rainbow Dash and Twilight, Ciel, Weiss, all of Rainbow and Twilight’s other friends, were they all just… people out of time, like Sugarcoat said? Was General Ironwood, kind and supportive, a walking anachronism destined to be replaced by someone less congenial?

No. No, she couldn’t believe that; she had seen too much goodness in Atlas to believe that all of those she had seen be good and kind were nothing more than anomalies.

But did you see enough before you made this choice?

Trixie, Starlight, it’s not like I spent all my time with Team RSPT.

More of the Canterlot crew, as Sunny would put it.

Sunny is a word my mother wouldn’t like me to use, and what about my mother? What about the treaty between Atlas and Menagerie, what about Councillor Cadance, what about the new CCT, is that the action of a predatory kingdom, one that worships strength above everything else?

Unless it’s just that Menagerie has something Atlas wants.

The SDC hasn’t gotten what it wanted out of it.

I came here. I met with other Atlesians beyond the ones that first befriended me. I didn’t trust blindly.

But perhaps I didn’t look far enough.

Rainbow warned me that I might not like what I found at Cold Harbour. She warned me about the Shadowbolts.

She didn’t warn me strongly enough; she must have known what they were like.

Was Rainbow only showing me the good parts of Atlas all along?

If she was, then why? She must have known that I’d find out sooner or later.

I understand why she didn’t want me to spend any time with these girls.

I just wish I knew if I wished that I’d listened.

Even if they aren’t the real Atlas, they are a side of Atlas – over thirty percent – and it’s probably good that I’ve finally noticed that.

Finally.

Provided that I can do something about it.

Provided that I don’t have to stay in this truck with them for too much longer.

“Hey,” Blake murmured, looking up from her deliberations.

Sour Sweet sighed. “What?”

“Did you girls know anyone called Ilia Amitola?”

Sunny Flare reflexively rubbed her jaw in what was, for Blake, a very satisfying gesture. “Yeah, we knew an Ilia Amitola.”

“Tough nut,” Indigo added. “Principal Cinch liked her. Pity she turned out to be so sensitive.”

“Why?” Sunny demanded.

“No reason,” Blake murmured.

“Oh, well, I’m glad we were able to satisfy your curiosity,” Sour Sweet hissed. “Next time keep it to yourself.”

The truck rolled to a stop.

Indigo grinned. “I think this is our cue,” she said, tapping Lemon Zest on the shoulder.

Lemon took off her headphones. “What did I miss?”

Everybody stared at her.

“What?” she hissed.

Sour Sweet rolled her eyes. “Stack up,” she whispered. “Weapons ready.”

Blake was closest to the door, along with Indigo Zap, whose gauntlets crackled with electricity as she raised them in a boxing stance. Blake drew Gambol Shroud, her weapon flowing fluidly into pistol configuration as she aimed it at the door. Sugarcoat held her sword loosely in her hand. Sunny Flare set off a brief burst of flame from her flamethrower.

“Take them alive,” Sour Sweet ordered. “If possible.”

The double doors at the back of the truck swung open, revealing Robyn Hill – Blake recognised her from her interview after the sabyr incursion – and all three of her associates standing in front of said doors, eyes widening at the sight of the six Atlesian specialists confronting them.

“Surprise!” Lemon called in a cheery, sing-song voice.

“Scramble!” Robyn yelled, as she and her associates split up, each fleeing in a different direction. “Lose them and meet up back at the hideout!”

Indigo Zap let out a lupine howl, the sound echoing through the grim and dimly lit Mantle street. “I call the big one!” she yelled as she jumped out of the truck and took off in pursuit of the tallest and burliest of Robyn’s crew.

Blake jumped out too, but waited for orders as the rest of the Shadowbolts exited the truck.

“Sugarcoat, take the faunus,” Sour Sweet commanded. “Sunny, Lemon, with me, we’ve got Robyn. Blake, handle the blue one.”

Alone? Blake thought, but said nothing as her legs began to move, pounding down the street after one of the two smaller members of the Happy Huntresses, the one whose blue hair was illuminated by the flickering street lights she passed beneath.

She certainly didn’t question her orders, for all that it wasn’t the way she would have played it, and probably not the way that Rainbow would have played it either.

Still, it wasn’t as though there weren’t reasons to take this decision. Robyn Hill was a former Vytal Festival champion, and a former Atlesian specialist to boot. The other three, by contrast, were unknown quantities and probably lesser threats. Counting on a single specialist to be a match for them was arguably smarter than underestimating Robyn herself.

Plus, she wasn’t sorry to get away from the Shadowbolts.

So she pursued her target as she fled down the street. Robyn and the others broke off, turning down side streets and back alleys to try and lose their pursuers in the maze of Mantle, but the blue-haired girl kept on going straight, kept on running, kept on trying to put pure distance between herself and Blake.

Blake saw her keep turning around, looking over her shoulder, seeing if Blake had fallen behind or given up yet.

Blake didn’t intend to do either of those things.

The streets of Mantle were old, dilapidated in some cases, with crumbling facades and rusting pipes and fire escapes, but those same fire escapes and the exposed pipes offered purchase for her hook as she transformed Gambol Shroud back into sword mode and swung from such exposures to gain ground on her quarry. The street lights were old, and half of them didn’t even seem to work, but the ornate, old-fashioned metalwork likewise gave her places to swing from or to leap from. While her prey had to dodge cars or leap over bonnets as she navigated the teeming roads, Blake was free to swing across, carried safely over the heads of the vehicles coming below.

Her target turned away at last, darting into the mouth of an alley jutting off the road. Blake followed, hard upon her heels, only to find the alley empty.

There was nothing there. The darkness was concealing nothing from her faunus eyes; she was seeing nothing because there was nothing there to see.

But that wasn’t possible. She’d been right behind the other girl. There was no way that she could have gotten out the other end of what was a pretty long alley before Blake got here.

It wasn’t as though there was anywhere to hide; it was just a straight shot down the alley.

So where had she gone? How had she managed to lose Blake? It wasn’t possible, unless…

Blake’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, holding Gambol Shroud in one hand, she bent down and picked up an abandoned beer can lying on the street and threw it down the alley.

It disappeared from view.

Blake gritted her teeth as she charged forward, bursting through the area of her quarry’s semblance as her target came into view.

She was dressed in a long brown coat, with metal vambraces on each wrist and more armour protecting her belly. She was armed with a bladed staff, the blades curving backwards at each end of the weapon which she swung at Blake. Blake’s clone dissipated under the blow as the real Blake caught her opponent in the face with a spinning kick which sent her reeling into the alley wall.

Blake landed on the ground. “Surrender peacefully and-”

The blue-haired girl turned, her long ponytail flying around her as she slashed at Blake with an overhead poleaxe strike down upon her head.

The blow split Blake’s head in two and drove into her body, moments before said body turned into a sculpture made of ice which erupted outwards, trapping the Happy Huntress’s staff within its grip and sticking it fast.

Blake, mindful of the orders that the Happy Huntresses were to be taken alive, sheathed Gambol Shroud upon her back. “Now will you surrender?”

“Never!” the blue-haired huntress shouted, abandoning her weapon and lunging at Blake with one fist drawn back.

Blake dodged the blow, her body bending with a supple athleticism as she kicked the other girl again, sending her flying up into the air to hit the wall and roll back down onto the alley floor.

Blake was on her as she scrambled to get to her feet, grabbing her by one arm and slapping the restraints around her wrist. As the girl threw a clumsy punch with her other hand, Blake grabbed it and fastened the restraints around that arm too.

“You are under arrest,” Blake declared. “Whoever you are.”

The girl stared up at her, her olive eyes blazing with anger. “Up yours, cop.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Blake muttered as she hauled the other girl up to her feet. She looked young. Younger than Blake had expected, although she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t expected her to be young. She supposed that she’d sort of suspected the ground would be contemporaries of Robyn Hill herself, perhaps even her teammates, although she conceded that she had had no logical basis for that notion. The identities of the other three members of the Happy Huntresses were unknown; only their leader, Robyn, had been identified.

So she recruited a kid to follow her. Now, who does that remind me of?

The girl with the blue hair glared at her. “So what happens now?”

Now, Blake ought to call it in, get a transport to come and pick the girl up. That was what she ought to do, but somehow, she… dammit, she looked so young. She was just a kid, barely any older than Blake. If Blake deserved a second chance, then surely she did too? If a better way had been found for Blake, then…

“You’re coming with me,” Blake said. “Do you know of anywhere good to get coffee around here?”

The blue-haired huntress stared at her. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“No,” Blake replied.

“You want to go for coffee? Now?”

“That’s why I asked?”

The golden eyes of the other huntress narrowed. “Will you buy me one?”

“That was the general idea, yes,” Blake said dryly.

“Will you take these cuffs off?”

“No.”

The other girl snorted. “Okay, I know a place.”

The girl led her – sort of, Blake had hold of her by the collar and one arm and was sort of manhandling her along even as she was following the other girl’s directions – out of the alleyway and through the streets into a slightly more populated part of Mantle, where open-topped trucks carrying dirt-encrusted miners back from their shift drove along the roads, where street vendors sold fried food on sticks for passersby, where those on their way home after work passed those heading out to theirs. Bars emptied out and filled up again. The street lights worked a little better here, and people stood and chatted under the spots where the yellow glow dispersed the darkness of the night.

And over it all, the mighty airships of the Atlesian fleet loomed, blocking out the stars and casting their silhouettes before the moon, and yet, at the same time, providing new stars as their lights blinked red and green amidst the darkness.

Nobody interfered with Blake or her captive; in fact, they gave her so wide a berth that it was as if she had a disease, or fleas. But, even as they cleared out of her way, many of them glowered at Blake, gave her dirty looks, spat on her as she went by.

“I’m not very popular around here, am I?” Blake murmured.

“Nobody likes a cop,” the other girl said.

“I’m a Spec-”

“Down here, in this town, you’re a cop,” the other girl insisted. “And, well, you’re not exactly dressed to blend in. You stink of Atlas. You look like the personification of the boot upon our necks down here in Mantle. You come down here like this, of course people are going to hate you.”

“Nobody seemed to hate me the last time I was here,” Blake said.

“What were you doing the last time you were here?”

Blake was quiet for a moment. “The school run,” she said.

The blue-haired huntress snorted. “The school run! Oh, yeah, I forgot, that’s something you do, isn’t it? The brave soldiers of Atlas, fearlessly facing down nursery schoolers.”

“And sabyrs,” Blake said.

The other huntress looked at her. “That was you?”

“And a friend of mine,” Blake said. She couldn’t help but add. “I didn’t see you there.”

The blue-haired huntress snorted. “There’s only four of us. You know, maybe if Atlas didn’t keep railroading all the graduates into the military, we might have some spare huntsmen lying around to help take care of our community, did you ever think of that!” She gestured with her head. “This is the place.”

The place turned out to be a rather dingy diner, where the windows were too grubby in places to see out of and half the neon red lights spelling out the name above said windows didn’t work, so that the name of the place appeared to be "AB E S DI E." The interior was small, with a row of booths running along the window wall and single chairs lined up against the counter. Weary-looking men and women, human and faunus alike, all caked in sweat and dressed in labouring clothes and workman’s boots, sat at the counter or in the booths, and their tired eyes turned to Blake and her prisoner as they made their way to a free booth in the middle of the room.

No sooner had the two of them sat down than Blake noticed people starting to leave, as though Blake was driving them away with a bad smell.

That, or they were worried that the other Happy Huntresses might try to rescue their comrade and feared to be caught in the crossfire.

She drew Gambol Shroud and switched it to pistol configuration as she rested the weapon on her lap.

“Is that necessary?” the other huntress asked.

“You tell me,” Blake replied.

The blue haired girl rested her shackled hands upon the table. “Are you going to take these off?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need the gun for?”

“In case any of your friends show up,” Blake replied.

The other huntress watched her warily.

Blake leaned back. “Is this place any good?”

The blue haired girl shrugged. “Don’t expect a chai latte or anything, but it’s okay.”

Blake put that away for future reference, even as she grabbed the menus from their stand by the dirty window and passed one to her prisoner. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me your name?”

The other girl didn’t respond.

Blake waited a moment longer, before she said, “My name’s Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

The other huntress remained silent for a few more moments. “May Marigold.”

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but that might sound rather disingenuous in the circumstances,” Blake murmured.

May snorted.

A waitress, a squirrel faunus with a grey tail rising up behind her back, dressed in a pink and white striped blouse, approached their table; there were bags beneath her eyes, and her steps were slow.

“What can I get you?” she asked, her voice tired and disinterested.

Blake glanced over the menu. “I’ll have a large Atlesiano.”

“Cappuccino,” May said, “and a bacon sandwich.” She grinned at Blake. “I mean, since you’re paying, right?”

Blake didn’t say anything; it would have been very churlish to have begrudged May the food, not to mention been counterproductive to convincing May that she, Blake, was on her side.

The waitress scribbled down their orders. “I’ll get right on it,” she said, as she walked away.

“Is she going to spit in my coffee?” Blake asked.

“Someone probably will,” May replied cheerily. “I mean, you are the oppressor after all.”

“I’m not oppressing anyone,” Blake said, “and neither is Atlas.”

May looked into her eyes. “Is that what you really think?”

“Yes,” Blake replied.

“Then what are we doing here?” May demanded. “Why aren’t I in a truck being driven away to lock-up?”

“I want to talk.”

“You couldn’t talk to me in an interrogation room?” May asked. “I’m not complaining, but-”

“I want to talk in a less... adversarial context,” Blake explained. “I want to help you, May.”

May snorted. “Help me? How? Are you going to cut me a deal if I sell out my friends? Do you think buying me a coffee will be enough to make me turn on Robyn?”

“That’s not what I meant, I’m not here to offer you a deal,” Blake said. Not yet, anyway. “I’m here to try to get you to think about what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing, I’m fighting for the freedom of Mantle.”

“I know that’s what you think you’re doing,” Blake said. “I know that you think your cause is just-”

“Our cause is just!”

“How many innocents are you hurting in the pursuit of that justice?”

“None!”

“Because nobody who supports the status quo, even by inaction, is innocent? Because in a world where bigotry and oppression are the default there is no such thing as innocence?” Blake demanded.

“No, because we don’t go around hurting innocent people,” May insisted. “What do you think we are?”

“I think you’re a terrorist group.”

“Is that what they told you?” May asked incredulously. “Is that what they’re calling us now? Terrorists?”

“They didn’t tell me very much,” Blake admitted, and her encounter with the Shadowbolts had left a sufficient mark on her that she couldn’t help but wonder if that lack of information on the group’s activities had been deliberate. “But you were caught red-handed attempting to rob military property.”

“We thought we were robbing an unguarded truck,” May insisted. “Nobody would have gotten hurt; nobody did get hurt; we disengaged, if you remember, because we don’t start fights with the military.”

“You just steal from it.”

“All the stuff we were going to steal could have been replaced in a day,” May said dismissively.

“Then what was the point in stealing it?” Blake demanded. “You don’t even think you’re weakening the military, so why?”

May looked away, pouting slightly. “None of your business.”

Blake frowned, but didn’t say anything straight away, because at that point, the waitress returned with their coffees and May’s bacon sandwich. The cups looked clean, at least, although it was a very greasy-looking sandwich.

“Do you really want to eat that?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” May replied, picking up with her shackled hands. “It may not look great, but you get used to stuff like this.” She glanced at Blake’s coffee. “Do you want to drink that?”

Blake pushed the cup an inch away from her. “I’m not sure.”

May sniggered, before she tore a chunk out of her sandwich and wolfed it down.

“So you’re committing crimes that even you know aren’t going to get you anywhere for reasons you can’t explain,” Blake observed. “Does Robyn tell you that it’s to raise awareness? To put you on the map? Does she say that you have to do something, anything, to strike back against your oppressors?”

May swallowed. “What makes you think she says anything like that?”

“Does she inspire you?” Blake asked.

“What’s it to you?”

“Does she make you want to be like her?”

“Are you going to arrest Robyn for being a good leader?”

“Does she make you feel like you’re her family?”

“Robyn is my family, and we’re hers!” May snapped. “The Huntresses are my family!”

“No,” Blake said, “they’re not; they’re a gang, and they’re using you because that’s what people like that, people like Robyn, do. May, I’ve been where you are; I know how it starts. I know what it’s like to sit at the feet of a charismatic leader who makes you feel so special, who makes you feel as if you mean the world to her. I know how it starts, with petty acts of violence which steadily ramp up until-”

“You don’t know me, and you don’t know the Happy Huntresses!” May growled. “And stop talking to me like that, how old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Blake said.

“Well, I’m twenty-three, so stop talking to me like I’m your little sister,” May said. “What makes you think you…?” She paused. “Wait a second, I know who you are, Blake Belladonna! You’re the Menagerie Princess, aren’t you?”

“That’s what some people call me,” Blake murmured.

“You used to be White Fang, didn’t you?” May asked. “Sure, they came up with some cover story to make it look like they weren’t welcoming a terrorist – an actual terrorist – with open arms, but that was a load of BS, wasn’t it?”

“Some good friends showed me a better way,” Blake said.

May drank some of her cappuccino. “So… what? Are you going to pay it forward by saving me? Are you going to show me a better way?” She snorted. “Well, thanks for your concern, but the Happy Huntresses aren’t the White Fang, and I don’t need you to ‘rescue’ me.” She picked up her sandwich again. “But, since we’re here, you mind telling me how an ex-White Fang fighter from Menagerie who studied at Beacon ends up an Atlesian specialist?” She took a bite.

“I found a cause,” Blake said.

May’s golden eyes bulged, and the sandwich dropped from her hands as she started to cough violently, so violently that Blake feared she was choking to death. Crumbs of bread sprayed out of her mouth as she leaned over the table, hacking away, red-faced.

Blake leaned over and gave her a thump on the back, expelling a stringy, gristly fragment of half-chewed bacon from out of her mouth and onto the table where it stuck, surrounded by a thin layer of saliva. Blake delicately picked it up with a napkin and deposited it on May’s plate before dabbing at the damp spot on the table itself.

May was silent for a minute, breathing heavily in and out, drinking deeply of her coffee. She stared up at Blake, astonishment in her eyes, long before she leaned back and finally spoke again. “'A cause'?”

“You’re welcome,” Blake murmured.

“For what, almost killing me?” May demanded. “'A cause'? That’s your answer, you found a cause? Atlas? The glory of the North Kingdom? What do you know about Atlas? Had you even been here before you decided to join the military?”

“Once,” Blake said.

“Oh, great,” May said. “Let me guess: you spent some time with General Ironwood, you met Councillor Cadenza, you were onboard an Atlesian ship, you hung out with Atlas students, you visited the city as a tourist, and you imagined that you had seen Atlas.”

“And you’re going to tell me that I hadn’t,” Blake said quietly.

“You’re damn right I am, because you hadn’t,” May insisted. “You hadn’t seen Atlas; you’d met a couple of important people, hung out with a few less important people, and seen a few beauty spots. Where did they show you? These Are My Jewels?”

Blake did not reply.

“They didn’t show you Mantle, did they?” May asked. “They didn’t show you the dust mines or the slums-”

“They showed me Low Town under Atlas,” Blake declared. “And I’ve heard stories about Mantle.”

“From your friends in the White Fang?” May asked. “Maybe you should have paid more attention.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I met so many good people,” she said. “I thought that Atlas must, itself, be a force for good in the world.”

“You thought?” May asked. “You don’t think any more?”

“No, I still believe that,” Blake insisted. “Although I’m starting to wonder if I might have to fight for that point of view against those who don’t feel that way about this kingdom.”

“Atlas isn’t a force for good,” May said, shaking her head at Blake’s naïveté.

“Atlas protects those who can’t protect themselves,” Blake said. “Atlas protected Vale when it was in need-”

“Atlas protected Vale to make itself look good, and then they left when nobody was watching anymore,” May said. “Do you think that Atlas would have given a crap about Vale if it hadn’t been for the Vytal Festival and all the cameras watching?”

“Yes,” Blake said firmly. “The Atlesian military has its arms around humanity-“

“Yeah, yeah, Atlas is holding up the world, blah, blah, blah; I’ve heard it all before,” May said. “I don’t believe it any more just because you’re saying it.”

“Atlas protects Mantle,” Blake declared.

“Oh, well, that’s very big of them, isn’t it?” May snapped. “After taking our money and our best and brightest like some giant vacuum sucking the life out of Mantle, how very nice of them to spend a fraction of the lien they take from us on keeping us safe from the grimm. Let me tell you what Atlas really is-”

“A superpredator?” Blake guessed.

May’s eyebrows rose. “No. Who told you that?”

“The people chasing the rest of your group,” Blake explained.

“Well, they’re full of crap too,” May pronounced. “Atlas is a belly. It’s a stomach, and Mantle and Canterlot and Crystal City are the arms; we’re the ones who actually do the work, who gather up the food which the belly then consumes. All of it, leaving nothing for the limbs who actually gathered up that food which it digests so ravenously.

“Let me tell you something: we wouldn’t need Atlesian protection if we weren’t being screwed out of everything we have by Atlas. If we were free, if we governed ourselves, then we could defend ourselves with the strength of our huntsmen and huntresses; if we had control of our dust, then we could afford to house the homeless and feed our kids instead of inflating Jacques Schnee’s bank balance.”

“Mantle is a net beneficiary of Atlesian spending-”

“That’s what they say,” May replied. “That’s what they want us to think so that we feel grateful for this largesse that is being lavished upon us, but ask yourself, if that’s true, why do they keep us around? If that’s true, why are we being branded a terrorist group? If Mantle costs Atlas so much to support then why won’t they let us leave?”

“Does Mantle want to leave?” Blake asked.

“We don’t know; they won’t even let us have a vote on it,” May said.

“Robyn Hill can’t even clear twenty percent in the polls, and you think Mantle will vote for independence?”

“I think Robyn can’t clear twenty percent because the votes in Atlas are against her,” May insisted. “Here in Mantle, she’s a hero.”

“Perhaps,” Blake conceded. After all, Sienna Khan was a hero to many too. The same might even be said of Adam. “But if that happened, if Mantle went its own way, then what would you do? Where would you go?”

May frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“'Chai latte' was my first clue,” Blake said. “But more importantly, the idea of a state as a body with the ‘working’ elements of society as limbs and the ruling elite as a belly was first recorded by the Mistralian philosopher Plotius in the eighth century, although, ironically, he was arguing against greater democratic participation in public life-”

“Because in his story, when the limbs expelled the belly from the body, they found they couldn’t digest any food without it, and they atrophied from starvation,” May muttered.

“I thought that was where the analogy fell down, as well,” Blake agreed. “But the point is, I doubt that you learned that down here in Mantle. You’re from Atlas, aren’t you?”

“Kind of patronising, don’t you think?” May suggested. “I mean, you’re right in this case, but still, just assuming that because I’m well read, I couldn’t be from Mantle?”

“You’re not,” Blake pointed out.

“Lucky guess; that doesn’t change the fact that I could be!” May snapped. “I mean, you know about Plotius too, Miss White Fang; where did you go to school?”

“…here and there,” Blake admitted. “My mother was a big believer in education.”

“And you think no Mantle mothers feel the same way.”

“It’s not my experience of Mantle mothers.”

May couldn’t avoid a chuckle at that. “Okay, I know what you’re talking about, and… fair point, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a patronising ass.”

“Perhaps,” Blake conceded. “So tell me, what’s an Atlesian elite doing in Mantle, committing crimes?”

May smirked. “I found a cause.”

Blake looked at her, and her feline ears drooped slightly towards her head.

“What?” May asked. “You can say that, but I can’t?”

“My cause isn’t criminality.”

“I prefer ‘outlaw’ to criminal,” May said.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “'Outlaw'?”

“You’ve heard of Plotius, but you don’t know what an outlaw is?”

“I know what an outlaw is,” Blake said. “Or at least I understand the kind of outlaw you seem to be referring to: a good man forced to go outside the law to fight some wicked lord.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“There are no lords here in Atlas.”

“Plenty of wickedness, though,” May replied. She drained her cappuccino. “Look, do you really want to understand what we’re about?”

Blake leaned forwards. “Yes,” she said, “I absolutely do.”

May looked into Blake’s eyes. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you.”

Blake paid the bill, including for the coffee that she hadn’t quite dared to drink, and then May led her out of the diner and a few blocks down. The contrast between the grimy streets and dirt-encrusted buildings of Mantle, and the gleaming wealth of Atlas could scarcely have been more pronounced. Again, the people cleared the way for them, glaring and glowering at Blake as she passed by. It was no surprise that they recognised her for a soldier of Atlas; she was better dressed by far than any of them in their rough labouring gear or fraying parkas, their trousers that were starting to develop holes, their boots that were coming apart at the soles. Blake, in her long white coat which billowed around her as she walked, in her polished black boots of pristine quality and her good-as-new black pants, must have seemed like a creature from another world.

As far as they’re concerned, I am from another world.

A world which holds them in submission.

May brought Blake to a street where the drains had overflowed, causing large puddles to develop where the road and pavement met; thankfully, there were no vehicles around to splash them as they walked. The building to which May brought her was three storeys high, the upper two looking residential, with windows – only some of which were illuminated – protected by iron railings. The front of the ground floor was elegantly-styled, with opaque green windows similarly protected by ornate black rails patterned after Mistralian columns, with a glowing green cross above the door. However, May led her around the side, where the building was much plainer, where a single window was unprotected and a white light glowed above a simple green door.

May pushed open the door with both her shackled hands and led the way inside. It was a doctor’s office of some kind, was Blake’s best guess, judging by the bed in the corner with the monitoring devices powered down overhead, but there were also numerous bookshelves on the walls, along with various assorted curios like a whale statue or some empty bottles or the like. There was also a desk, piled high with paperwork, and in the other corner of the room, a great many boxes, neatly stacked up, stamped with the Atlesian symbol of the gear and spear.

May stared at them, even as Blake did. She raised her restrained hands to her face. “Doc!”

“I’ll be right with you.” The voice that emerged from behind the stacked up paperwork was rich and fruity. A few moments later, a man emerged, a portly fellow with a round face and hair and beard that were grey and turning to white. A pair of very small round spectacles, reminding Blake a little of Professor Ozpin, sat upon his nose, and he was dressed in a cream shirt and brown pants, with a red waistcoat which, collectively, seemed in a better state than most of what people were wearing in Mantle tonight. He did not walk, but sat atop a robotic chair which moved for him upon four whirring legs, which he seemed to control by thought, given the way he was not touching either of the blue control panels mounted on the arms. “Ah, hello again, May, and who’s your new friend?” He didn’t appear to have noticed that May was in handcuffs.

“Doc, what is that?” May said, gesturing with both hands to the pile of stolen goods. “You were supposed to take everything out of the boxes and get rid of them!”

“I know, and I meant to get around to it, but then someone came in needing to have some work done, so I had to deal with that, and then, well, one thing drives out another, as you’ll admit.”

“They’re stolen goods, Doc,” May insisted, “what if a cop showed up?”

“Oh, the police never bother me. Seriously, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“This is Blake,” May said. “A cop.”

“Technically, I’m a Spe-”

“You’re a cop,” May said. “You’ve got me in handcuffs; you’re a cop.” She sighed. “Anyway, this is Pietro Polendina.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” Pietro said, either oblivious or uncaring of the fact that he could be charged as an accessory to the crimes of the Happy Huntresses.

“'Polendina'?” Blake repeated. She recalled something that Ciel had told her, a long time ago.

“Her father is one of the brightest minds in Atlas. Of the men who might be said or have been said to be his equal; one is dead, and the other wastes his talents in a clinic in Mantle.”

“Are you… are you by any chance connected to Penny Polendina?”

“Oh, you know Penny?” Pietro asked. He chuckled. “What am I saying? Everyone knows Penny these days.”

“Yes,” Blake acknowledged. “They do. But I was lucky enough to work with her before she became famous.”

“Ah, I see,” Pietro replied. “Well, no I don’t, but I don’t much suppose it matters. Yes, I’m connected to Penny, you might say. I’m her… you could call me her uncle or her second father or both. Japeth and I developed the idea and worked on the project together… until he kicked me off of it.”

“He threw you out?” Blake asked. “And took all the credit?”

“Sharing has never been one of Japeth’s strong suits,” Pietro said. “But it was my fault. I found my conscience a little too late, got cold feet about turning Penny over to the military. It didn’t seem right, once we’d created a life, that we shouldn’t give her a chance to work out for herself what she wanted to do with that life. Japeth reported me, and since the military was paying the bills for everything, they decided that they didn’t need my talents anymore.” He sighed. “They might have done me a favour; I never liked going up to Atlas to work. Too clean, too sterile. I’m happier where I am, down here, with my feet… well, not on the ground, maybe, but close enough.”

“And what is it that you do here?” Blake asked. “With stolen military property?”

“I know, it’s wrong, and if I had a better way, I’d take it,” Pietro said apologetically, “but when you run a free clinic, well, the clue is in the name. I have a stipend from my government work that keeps the lights on, but not enough to get materials for the prosthetics for those that need them.”

“Mining injuries, industrial accidents, incidents in their crappy homes,” May said, “there’s a lot of reasons people can end up missing an arm, or a leg, or an eye. A lot of people who could use a robotic replacement to help them get back on their feet. You know what the SDC’s insurance looks like? It looks like an accountant laughing at the idea that you get insurance, and even when people are insured, it’s not enough to cover the cost of a good prosthetic. People depend on this clinic, and Pietro depends on us.”

“And what about the soldiers and veterans who are also waiting for a robotic replacement?” Blake demanded. “Don’t the people who lost limbs in battle deserve to get back on their feet too?”

“And they will,” May said. “Like I said, all the stuff we take can be replaced in a day, and the soldiers don’t have to pay any extra. The military takes care of its people; the rest of Mantle has only got us.”

Blake frowned. There was some force in what May said. Even Jacques Schnee had admitted that the social safety net down here in Mantle had holes in it, and when you had holes, people fell through them. Yes, technically, he was receiving stolen property, but he didn’t exactly look like a fence; he wasn’t even selling the stuff on.

“So this is what you do?” Blake said. “You steal from the military and give it away?”

“Like I told you,” May said, “outlaws.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “Okay, I won’t report this,” she said, gesturing to the pile of clearly marked evidence in the corner, “although May’s right, you should unpack before someone less generous comes calling. But you are still going to have to come with me.”

“Really?” May asked. “Still?”

“It’s still a crime,” Blake reminded her. “A jury here in Mantle will probably see things your way, but I don’t get to pre-empt that. I have to bring you in.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” the voice of Robyn Hill declared.

It came from behind her.

Slowly, carefully, Blake raised her hands. “The last time I saw you, you were being pursued by three specialists.”

“Your people aren’t as good as they think they are,” Robyn observed.

“No,” Blake agreed. “That sounds about right.”

“May,” Robyn said. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” May assured her. “Joanna and Fiona, are they-?”

“They got them,” Robyn growled. “But I think General Ironwood will give them back in exchange for his new protégé, the daughter of his new friends in Menagerie.”

“You’re going to take me hostage?” Blake asked, her voice soft and even.

“Not my first choice,” Robyn replied. “I’d be lying if I said I liked the idea. But my first duty is to my people. I’ll do what I have to for them.”

“I knew someone who thought like that,” Blake murmured. “She made some terrible mistakes.”

“I’ve made mistakes of my own,” Robyn said. “But I don’t think this is one of them.”

Blake was silent for a moment. She knew Robyn’s reputation: Vytal Festival champion, rising star turned bogeyman of the Atlesian military. Not a pushover, for sure. Nevertheless, she had no choice. “I’m afraid I hope it is.”

May’s eyes widened. “Robyn, her semblance is-”

Blake’s clone disappeared in a puff of smoke as the real Blake materialised directly in front of Robyn, her foot lashing out in a kick that caught Robyn in the face and knocked her backwards out the clinic door and into the street beyond. Blake drew Gambol Shroud as she pursued, and the moonlight shone upon the black blade as she descended, spinning, upon her adversary.

Robyn raised her right hand; upon her wrist was mounted a kind of bow, supported by what looked like wings of metal, as though there was a falcon perched upon her wrist. She used the steel wings like a buckler, shielding herself from the blow of Gambol Shroud which glanced off it with a shower of sparks. Blake leapt away, landing down the street even as Robyn scrambled upright.

Blake grabbed her cleaver with her free hand, and as Robyn raised her bow to aim at Blake, Blake was already on the move towards her, darting left and right as she came on.

Robyn fired. The street was clear, but Blake couldn’t guarantee how far in either direction it stayed that way, so she used a stone clone to take the arrow rather than risk it hitting a civilian down the road. As the missile stuck in her rocky clone, the real Blake struck with a spinning kick aimed squarely for Robyn’s face.

Robyn took the blow upon one arm and then grabbed Blake’s ankle with her other hand, a scowl settling upon her face as she pirouetted in place, spinning Blake around like a hammer before tossing her away. Blake’s hair whipped about her as she was tossed aside, slamming into a lamppost hard enough to crumple the metal. She winced as she felt her aura drop under the force of the impact, and the groans of pain kept escaping her as she dropped to the cold street beneath.

Gambol Shroud shifted to pistol configuration in her hands as Blake rose onto one knee, the gun spitting fire once, twice, three times in Robyn’s direction.

Robyn caught the bullets on her wings, shielding herself with them as she crossed her arm across her body. The bullets ricocheted away, pinging off the metal to be flung away into the darkness.

Blake gritted her teeth as she switched her weapon back into its sword form. Robyn’s weapon might be useful as a shield, but it was still a ranged weapon at the end of the day, and that meant that she had a better chance if she closed to melee and used her agility and semblance to her advantage. She pushed herself up onto her feet and charged towards Robyn.

Robyn fired but missed, the arrow going some way past Blake’s shoulder.

Blake barely paid attention Robyn’s poor aim except to thank her good fortune as she rushed forward, body bent low, crouching for a—

The arrow, which must have bounced off at least one surface, hit her on the back of the shoulder hard enough to stagger Blake, the momentum of her rush falling away and leaving her open for Robyn’s counterattack. The leader of the Happy Huntresses rushed her in turn, a scowl upon her face, a wordless growl rising out of her lips as she raised her fist to deliver a powerful strike to Blake’s face which sent her staggering, followed by a knee into that same face as Blake bent almost double under the attack. Blake cried out, burning a shadow clone to get away before Robyn could sweep her legs out from under her. She appeared in mid-air, and once more, her weapon shifted from sword to gun as she fired a shot at her target, even as she flipped over her back to land with perfect poise upon the cobbled street.

Blake panted for breath. Obviously, now wasn’t the best time to check her aura, but she guessed that she had to be in the yellow after this.

She’s good. I can see why everyone thought so highly of her.

Honestly, her best option at this point was probably to disengage, her chances of victory being doubtful. Like Ciel said, a fruitless victory was not worth a single life spent to attain it.

But it would irk her to run, even so. Maybe it was just her pride talking, but it would stick in her craw to let not only Robyn but May as well slip through her fingers, to look like a failure in the eyes of the Shadowbolts and General Ironwood and the others. To run away from someone who had betrayed the cause for which she fought.

And besides, there was no guarantee that she would be able to get away. Robyn wasn’t likely to just let her break off the fight, and there was no guarantee Blake was fast enough to escape her.

And my aura is only in the yellow. I still have some fight left in me.

Or perhaps I’m just not assimilated enough yet.

Whatever the answer, she switched Gambol Shroud back to sword, holding it in her right hand with her cleaver in her left. Her eyes glanced around the street. She could swing on that lamppost and then-

Robyn levelled her bow and fired again. Blake wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time; as the arrow whipped past her, Blake’s hand darted out and caught it in a deft motion.

Red lights began to flash up and down the shaft, giving Blake just enough time to realise what she’d done before it exploded.

The fire consumed her, the light blinding her, the heat tearing at her aura, the sound of the bang hammering at her ears. Blake cried out, her sensitive eyes screwed tightly shut, as she staggered out of the smoke and the flame, the cleaver slipping from her grasp as she shielded her face with one hand. She coughed, forcing the smoke up out of her throat.

She heard Robyn shout and knew that the older woman was charging for her, just as she knew that she wouldn’t be able to respond in time.

As Blake struggled to open her eyes, she heard the whine of an engine, a voice raised in angry counterpoint to Robyn’s shout, and saw a burst of iridescent light flash before her.

She opened her eyes fully, blinking a little as the smoke of the blast still stung them.

Rainbow Dash stood between Blake and Robyn Hill, the Wings of Harmony unfurled upon her back, blocking Robyn’s punch with both arms, one hand grasping Robyn’s fist.

Her goggles made her eyes seem redder than before, and her face was set in a snarl of rage.

“Rainbow Dash?” Blake murmured in disbelief.

Rainbow didn’t respond. She didn’t get the chance as Robyn slashed at her with her own razor wings, going for her eyes. Rainbow leaned back, the blow passing over her head, but it weakened her grip on Robyn’s fist enough for her to leap away.

Rainbow pursued her, a rainbow trailing after her as she pressed home the attack, fists swinging.

Applejack landed next to Blake, the cobbles cracking under the impact as she descended like a thunderbolt, landing on her knees, one fist punching the ground.

“You okay, sugarcube?” she asked Blake as she got to her feet. “You look like you took nasty hit there.”

“I… I’ll be okay,” Blake said, although a check of her aura revealed it was very nearly in the red. “What are you two doing here?”

“We’ll explain later,” Applejack promised. “Once we’ve taken care of this varmint over here.” She pulled One in a Thousand over her shoulder and worked the lever to chamber her first round. She raised the rifle to her shoulder. “Rainbow Dash! Clear the field!”

Fire gushed from the Wings of Harmony as Rainbow Dash leapt into the air, carried aloft by her wingpack and leaving Robyn completely exposed.

One in a Thousand roared as Applejack advanced. Robyn covered her chest as the round ricocheted off her wings. Applejack kept the rifle to her shoulder as she worked the lever, then fired again with another roar from her rifle. The bullet struck the ground as Robyn leapt backwards. Applejack continued to bear down on her, kept the rifle at her shoulder, worked the lever, fired again. Robyn covered her face with her wings, and again, the round bounced off the aura-enhanced metal.

Rainbow Dash swooped down out of the darkness, descending on Robyn with her leg outstretched for a kick.

Robyn turned aside, grabbing Rainbow’s leg to do to her what she had done to Blake-

One in a Thousand roared again, and Robyn cried out as she released Rainbow’s leg, clutching at her arm where the bullet had struck her. Rainbow’s other foot lashed out, catching Robyn on the jaw and sending her staggering backwards.

Rainbow landed, fists flying.

Robyn met her with her own fists and with her sharp wings. She was taller than Rainbow Dash, and had a little reach on her too, and although she might prefer to fight from a distance, it was clear that she was no slouch in hand-to-hand combat.

She is a Vytal Champion, after all, Blake thought, as she watched Robyn and Rainbow trade blocks and punches; neither of them really managed to connect a blow because each of them was just blocking the others strikes, taking it on their arms without ever letting a fist get near their body.

It was easy to see why Robyn had once been the pride of Atlas; she wasn’t letting the new pride of Atlas – or she who hoped to hold that title – get close to her; that was more than Adam had managed to say, for all that he had been the Sword of the Faunus in his time.

Mind you, Rainbow was being cautious; she hadn’t used her aura boom. She didn’t want to wear out her aura in the face of an opponent like Robyn.

That was probably wise of her… wiser, it had to be admitted, than Blake had been.

Meanwhile, Robyn seemed notably less confident now than she had been. “May!” she yelled. “Get out of here!”

May emerged from out of the clinic, hands still bound – it appeared that Pietro was not sufficiently in league with the group to remove her restraints, or else, he simply hadn’t noticed that she was still wearing them – and darted away, running down the street away from the battle.

“I’ve got her!” Rainbow yelled, leaping back away from Robyn, leaving a rainbow trail as she outpaced her opponent to take off down the street after the fleeing May, effortlessly catching her and sweeping her legs to dump her down upon her back before, without slowing down for even a moment, Rainbow charged straight back at Robyn, the rainbow blazing out behind her.

Applejack let her rifle fall to her side in one hand. The other hand she clenched into a fist and, with a mighty roar, brought that fist down upon the ground just as Rainbow leapt up into the air.

Blake staggered sideways, struggling to keep her footing as the ground shook under the impact of Applejack’s blow. Robyn struggled too, her guard faltering as she fought to keep from falling, and Rainbow Dash – who wasn’t affected because her feet had already left the ground – took advantage of the opening with a one-two punch to Robyn’s face and stomach that sent her reeling.

Robyn counterattacked, slashing with her wings to drive Rainbow back, then using the breathing room to turn on Blake, firing another arrow in her direction.

Blake leapt aside; movement, not reflexes or taking comfort in an apparent miss, was the key to dodging Robyn’s arrows. She didn’t feel a strike as she flung out her hook, catching it on the wrought iron of the lamppost and using it to swing in a wide arc around Robyn and across the street, landing nimbly on her feet next to Rainbow Dash.

“I think,” she said quietly, “that I have just enough dust left for an Ice Surprise.”

Rainbow glanced at her. “You sure?”

Blake nodded. “I’m sure.”

Rainbow grinned. “Then let’s go.”

Blake didn’t say anything. She just ran at Robyn, Gambol Shroud and her cleaver-sheath swept out on either side of her, her boots tapping on the cobblestones as she charged. Her black hair streamed out into the night behind her, flowing above her billowing white tailcoat, as she bared her teeth at Robyn Hill and swept her ebony blade back for a strike.

Robyn sought to get her blow in first, throwing her punch straight at Blake’s face. The blow landed, but the Blake she had struck transformed into an ice clone which erupted, the ice expanding to trap Robyn’s arm in its cold embrace.

Rainbow sped forward, trailing a rainbow that was all her own, her hair glowing with iridescent light as she swung her fist towards the icy prison, and in doing so, she at last unleashed her aura boom.

The sound echoed down the street like the explosion of a missile. Even a few windows shattered. Blake had no idea how much of her aura Rainbow had used, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if it was as much as half of it. The ice that had held Robyn fast was shattered into pieces by the blow, pieces which hammered into Robyn’s face and body, even as the shockwaves of the aura attack continued to ripple outwards, slamming into Robyn, lifting her up into the air, tossing her down the street like a discarded toy, spinning over and over in the air.

Flying, spinning down the street to where Applejack was waiting for her.

Waiting with her fist drawn back to catch Robyn with a semblance-strengthened punch which reversed Robyn’s momentum completely, knocking her back the way she’d come and down into the ground hard enough to shatter her aura and leave her groaning, motionless, down on the ground between them.

It was clear that she was not going to get back up again.

There was a moment of silence in the street, all sounds of battle ceased, a calm descending in the night.

A calm that was broken by Rainbow’s exultant cry. “Yes!” she yelled, as she thrust both her arms up into the air. “We got Robyn Hill! Woo!”

Blake pursed her lips and looked away. She did not feel particularly triumphant. It might be that they had brought down a wanted felon, an enemy of Atlas, but – as strange as it might seem, considering that she had forsaken flight in order to continue the battle – it brought her no joy. She sought inside herself to try and understand why and found that she could not help but think about the parts in Pietro’s clinic. Robyn Hill, criminal though she was, had nevertheless stood up for Mantle and for the forgotten people who had fallen through the cracks of Atlesian society. Who would stand for them now, with Robyn and all her followers imprisoned?

Is it possible that we have done more harm than we have prevented?

Rainbow left Applejack to put the restraints on Robyn, while she turned back to Blake. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Blake said. “Although if you hadn’t turned up when you did… why did you show up when you did, anyway?”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Rainbow explained. “So we had Twilight follow you with a drone while we waited in an airship with Midnight.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You spied on me?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds weird,” Rainbow complained, rolling her eyes. “We were just looking out for you. 'Cause that’s what partners do.”

“Right,” Blake murmured. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised; it was nothing personal, or rather, their concern was personal, but their intrusive methods were not. General Ironwood’s paternalism had rubbed off on his prize pupils.

Not that she had much room to complain. She had, after all, needed the help. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Any time,” Rainbow said.

Applejack stood up. “I’m real glad that you’re okay, sugarcube, but do you mind telling us why you were bein’ such a damn fool in the first place? Why’d you walk that other girl all over town ‘stead of just callin’ in a prison bus when you first got her?”

“I… I wanted to understand,” Blake explained. “I wanted to understand why she was doing this.”

“They’re doing it because they’re a bunch of lawbreakers led by a deserter, and they-”

“No, Rainbow Dash, that’s not it,” Blake insisted. “I think they really believe they’re helping this city.”

“Uh huh,” Applejack said sceptically. “And what do you believe?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I think that maybe it could use the help.”

Rainbow frowned. “There’s a right way and a wrong way to do things, and robbing our trucks-”

“I’m not condoning their actions; I’m just saying that their motives are more noble than you're giving them credit for,” Blake said. “I was like them once; I thought that everything I was doing was justified by the nobility of my cause. That was why I wanted to talk to May; I wanted to try and help her the way that… the way that you helped me.”

Rainbow coughed. “Well, when you put it like that…” She trailed off for a moment. “Why did she take you here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said quickly.

“Doesn’t it?” Rainbow replied, looking around. “Hey, isn’t that-?”

“Leave it,” Blake said firmly. “Please, Rainbow, let it go. We’ve got Robyn, and May; that’s enough.”

Rainbow stared at her, brow furrowed, before she nodded. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s call a transport and-”

“Rainbow Dash? Applejack? Blake, can you hear me?” Twilight’s voice sounded through Blake’s earpiece and into her ear.

“Twilight?” Blake said.

“Hi, Blake,” Twilight said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Blake murmured. “Thank you for following me without my permission.”

Twilight laughed nervously. “Well, it all worked out in the end, right? Anyway, I’ve just gotten word from General Ironwood: we’re all to report back to him in Atlas, immediately.”

Rainbow wasn’t piloting the Skyray as it flew through the night sky back towards Mantle. Instead, Midnight had the controls, sitting in her modified body as she guided the airship homeward, leaving Rainbow free to sit with Blake, Twilight, and Applejack in the main compartment.

Blake sat with her legs spread apart, her hands clasped together over the open space between her knees.

Her head was bowed, and she looked at her clasped hands as the airship bore them back to Atlas.

“What do you think General Ironwood wants with all of us?” Applejack asked.

“Something important,” Rainbow replied. “Something big, I bet.”

“How do you figure that?” asked Applejack.

“Because it’s all three of us,” Rainbow responded. “And we all know. I think we might even be moving soon.”

Applejack whistled. “Well, maybe you’re right. I don’t rightly know how to feel about that. 'Cause if you are right, then that means she’s coming for us.”

“Not necessarily,” Twilight ventured. “I mean, it’s a possibility, certainly, but…” She trailed off for a moment. “It could mean that she’s going somewhere else, like…”

“Like Menagerie?” Blake asked, not looking up from her lap.

Twilight took a moment to reply, “Word could have come.”

Blake nodded. Word could have come. A message could have come from Menagerie in the night. She could be on her way to be told that Salem’s evil had taken root in her home, and her parents—

“We don’t know that it’s Menagerie,” Rainbow insisted. “It could be Mistral. Maybe that ambassador guy has said something that’s raising red lights.”

“Shining Armor was going to go and see him,” Twilight agreed. “Although… well, obviously, it will be good news that it isn’t Menagerie in the firing line, but if it’s Mistral, well, poor Pyrrha.”

“We’ll find out when we arrive,” Applejack said. “Ain’t no point worryin’ over what we might be about find out when we’ll get told all we need to soon enough.” She snorted. “Might we’ll get there and find it was nothing to do with Salem whatsoever.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. Like you said, no point worrying too much, huh? So, Blake, how was your mission with the Shadowbolts?”

Blake looked up, and into Rainbow’s eyes. “You didn’t tell me what they’d be like.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “We told you they were jerks.”

“You didn’t tell me they were psychotic,” Blake replied fiercely. “One of them talked about how she wanted to hunt poor people through the streets!”

“Seriously?” Applejack asked.

“Mhm,” Blake said, nodding.

Applejack pushed her hat backwards on her head a little bit. “Well, I never heard that one before.”

“They said they were the real face of Atlas,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Are they wrong?” Blake asked.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! Are you kidding me with this? I spend literally months showing you all the good things about this kingdom, and those jackasses come along and undo all of my hard work in one night?”

“That’s the point,” Blake said softly. “You showed me all the good things. All the good people. What about the things that you didn’t show me, the people you didn’t show me—?”

“Was I supposed to introduce you to everyone in the kingdom so that you could add up the good ones and compare it to the number of bad ones?” Rainbow demanded. “Sure, I introduced you to the best people I know, but I also introduced you to the Great and Powerful Trixie, and you still wanted to come here after that.”

“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight murmured reproachfully.

“I’m just saying, I didn’t sugarcoat this kingdom for you, if that’s what you mean,” Rainbow insisted. “General Ironwood, Councillor Cadance, our friends, Tsunami, this kingdom is full of good people.”

“And bad ones?” Blake asked.

“Every orchard has its bad apples,” Applejack said. “It don’t make it a bad orchard.”

“I know,” Blake murmured. “I just… between talking to the Shadowbolts and talking to May, I feel as though there’s a whole side of Atlas that I hadn’t seen before.”

“What side is that?” Twilight asked.

“The vicious side,” Blake answered. “The side that only respects strength.”

“Atlas doesn’t have a side like that,” Rainbow insisted. “The Shadowbolts want there to be a side like that because-”

“Because they’re a group of bad people who just happened to find each other?” Blake suggested, not keeping the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Like calls to like,” Applejack declared.

“Looking at you and your friends-”

“Our friends,” Twilight corrected.

Blake smiled slightly. “Our friends, yes, the point is that you don’t exactly have the same interests… or anything apparently in common at all, to be honest.” She shook her head. “Anyway, my real point is that…”

“You wish that you’d never taken the mission?” Rainbow guessed.

“No,” Blake said. “But I’m not sure that I’m glad we succeeded. The Happy Huntresses… they seem like they might have been the only people trying to help Mantle.”

“By stealing from the military?” Rainbow demanded incredulously.

“By giving to those who can’t get it from anywhere else,” Blake replied. “To be honest, after tonight, I’ve got a lot more sympathy with those asking why Atlas could afford to help Menagerie but can’t help its own poor down in Mantle.” She paused, judging that there was little chance now of any of them going back to the clinic, even if she told them the truth. “Twilight, do you know a Doctor Pietro Polendina?”

“Of course,” Twilight said. “He worked on Penny’s early development along with his brother, but left because of personal difficulties. He works in-”

“It was his clinic, wasn’t it?” Rainbow said loudly. “I knew I recognised it.”

“I’m a little surprised you’d been there before,” Blake said.

“I’ve flown Twi down to visit him a couple of times,” Rainbow explained.

“Is he involved with the Happy Huntresses?!” Twilight asked, sounding aghast.

“The Happy Huntresses supply him with parts to make prosthetics for those who can’t get insurance,” Blake explained. “I didn’t think he deserved to be arrested for helping people.”

“His way of helping people involves breakin’ the law,” Applejack pointed out.

“What moral force is there in an unjust law?” Blake demanded. “If Sunny Flare got her way and days of indiscriminate violence were instituted in Mantle, would you go along with it simply because it was the law? Why is it, in the greatest kingdom in Remnant, that people have to be dependent on a supply line from crime in order to get the prosthetics they need?”

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Rainbow said.

Blake blinked. “You agree with me?”

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“Honestly? No, I never expected you to agree with me about this.”

“I don’t like Robyn Hill; it doesn’t mean I want to stamp on the poor,” Rainbow said reproachfully.

“You don’t get nothin’ for nothin’,” Applejack said.

“Oh, come on, Applejack, don’t give me that,” Rainbow replied. “What does Jacques Schnee do to make his money? He just sits back in his big house, and it just rolls in, day after day. Why should he have everything when the people who actually do the work have nothing?”

Blake couldn’t help but smirk at this sudden unexpected turn from Rainbow Dash.

“What?” Rainbow asked. “Just because I lived with Twi for a bit doesn’t mean that I forgot that I grew up poor. If Atlas did more to help Mantle and Low Town, then people like Gilda wouldn’t have joined the White Fang, then maybe people in Mantle wouldn’t spit on a soldier the way they do, maybe things would be better. Maybe we’d be an even more awesome kingdom than we are now.”

“Money isn’t unlimited,” Twilight pointed out.

“Even Jacques Schnee recognises the current system is broken,” Blake pointed out.

“Recognises he needs more votes, more like,” Applejack muttered.

“Either way, his money is unlimited, so he can pay for everything,” Rainbow said. “Problems solved.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Twilight murmured.

“I know that Altas isn’t perfect,” Rainbow said, “but Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses? That’s not how you deal with it. You don’t set your uniform on fire and declare war on Atlas. What good’s that going to do?”

“It stocks Pietro’s clinic,” Blake pointed out.

“Not any more, now that they’re in jail,” Rainbow responded. “Besides, sure, the doc’s clinic helps some people, but not everyone, and they were never going to be able to keep helping him the same way; he’s not going to be able to keep helping people. No offence to him, but he’s not going to be around forever. I mean, when you were speaking to that girl-“

“May?”

“Yeah, her, what does she actually expect to happen?”

“She wants independence for Mantle,” Blake explained.

“Huh,” Rainbow replied. “It’s a plan, I guess, but I don’t see it happening. The only way to make Atlas a better place is from the inside. That’s why we have to keep working, so we can get into a place where we can change things. We’ll tax the rich to give to the poor and make everywhere in the kingdom as great as Atlas.”

Blake smiled. “Just like that?”

Rainbow nodded. “Just like that.”

Blake leaned back. If only it were so simple. Nevertheless, even if the answers were a little more complicated, that didn’t mean there were no solutions.

They just had to be found.

And so she thought on them as the airship carried them back to Atlas.

Author's Note

Bit of a darker side of Atlas, here, for those of you who like that sort of thing.

Assignment: Mistral

Assignment: Mistral

The doors into General Ironwood’s spacious office slid open as the four of them walked inside, arrayed from right to left: Applejack, Blake, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight Sparkle.

It was a good thing that the office was pretty big, Rainbow thought as they walked forwards towards the General’s desk, because the office had a few people in it already: an old lady, with white hair and a walking stick and a face that looked to be made for glaring at people, was sat on a chair in front of General Ironwood’s desk, while behind her stood-

“Sun?!” Blake cried.

“Blake!” yelled Sun Wukong, of all people, as he sprinted across the distance between the two of them, grabbing Blake by the waist – she squeaked in alarm or embarrassment or maybe both – and lifting her up into the air, spinning her around so that the tails of her long coat billowed out around her like one of Rarity’s fancy gowns. He stared into her eyes. “You… you’re okay. I hoped…” he grinned, started to pull her in for a kiss-

“Mister Wukong!” the voice of the old lady cracked like a whip. “Please try and control yourself. There will be plenty of time for… such things later, in private. I do not wish to observe them, and I doubt that General Ironwood desires to see it either.”

Sun’s back went as straight as a spear, and he let Blake go so suddenly that someone less agile would have fallen flat on their faces; Blake managed to land on her feet, although her face was more than a bit red and her ears were pricked up sharply.

“Right, my lady,” Sun murmured apologetically. “Sorry, I, um, I just, uh…” He laughed nervously. “I, uh… Blake.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Sun.”

“I’ll just go back over here,” Sun said, retreating back to his place behind the old lady, the actual ‘lady,’ judging by what Sun had called her.

Blake glared at him for a moment, then ostentatiously looked away from him.

“You okay?” Rainbow asked quietly, the concern in her voice at war with the smirk playing across her face.

“I’m fine,” Blake muttered, before striding forwards and forcing the others to move quickly to keep up.

General Ironwood himself sat behind his desk, his face stern and unreadable, while Major Schnee stood at his right hand, behind the desk, with her hands clasped behind her. And on the General’s left stood-

The smirk slid swiftly off Rainbow’s face as she came to a halt, her eyes widening and her pony ears pricking up sharply. “Aska?” What the… what was Aska doing here? Rainbow hadn’t seen her since…

Since the funeral.

Yeah, this probably isn’t going to be awkward or anything.

“Rainbow Dash,” Aska replied, in a voice so chilly that it could have frozen Rainbow’s ears off.

“Hey, Aska,” Twilight murmured, half-raising one hand in a slight wave. “It’s… it’s been a long time.”

Aska’s tone softened, just a little, as she said, “Indeed it has. You look well, Twilight Sparkle; I am glad to see it.”

“You… you look like you’re doing okay too,” Rainbow murmured.

Aska’s eyes flashed as her gaze returned to Rainbow Dash. “I am here on business, Rainbow Dash, not here to bandy idle words with you.”

Yeah, not awkward at all.

Blake’s ears descended a little towards her wild black hair. “Pardon me,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“This young lady is Aska Koryu,” General Ironwood declared. “She is… a huntress currently based in Mistral. Mister Wukong, I believe you know already.” His voice was dry, and you might almost have thought that he had not witnessed anything that had happened when Blake first came in.

Blake made a kind of growling noise in her throat. “Yes, sir.”

“And this,” General Ironwood added, gesturing to the old lady with one hand, “is Hippolyta Nikos-”

She coughed.

“Lady Hippolyta Nikos,” General Ironwood corrected himself. “Forgive me, ma’am; titles are not common here in Atlas.”

“Nikos,” Blake repeated. “Are you… Pyrrha’s grandmother?”

Lady Nikos’ glared at Blake with her green eyes. “I am Pyrrha’s mother,” she said firmly.

Blake’s ears pricked up with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, ma’am; I didn’t mean to-”

“I am aware that I have an aged appearance,” Lady Nikos admitted. “I was blessed with a daughter of prodigious strength, but all my strength was taken in return. Still, so long as I possess my wits, I may yet be of use, to Mistral and to my daughter.”

“Lady Nikos,” General Ironwood said. “Allow me to present Specialists Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash, and Jacqueline Apple, as well as Twilight Sparkle of the Science Division. At ease, Specialists.”

“Sir,” Blake said as the three specialists stood at ease, legs spaced out and hands clasped behind their backs. Twilight was left standing rather awkwardly at the end of the line, hands at her side.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, not least of which is what you’re all doing here, so for the duration of this meeting, you may all speak freely,” General Ironwood declared. “You may consider it blanket permission granted. Now, as you may have gathered, Lady Nikos has come all the way from Mistral to brief us on events in the kingdom.”

“Is Pyrrha okay?” Blake asked immediately. “What about Jaune?”

“Pyrrha is well, thanks be to the air and sky,” Lady Nikos declared. “And Mister Arc is, if possible, even better.” A smile played across her aged lips. “He and Pyrrha are engaged to be married.”

“Already?” Rainbow exclaimed, the word bursting from her lips before she could stop it. “They’re kind of young, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Applejack replied. “My Ma and Pa were about our age when they got married.”

“You told me that your parents had to elope because your grandparents hated each other and your mother’s folks were going to take her away to Mantle.”

“It still counts!” Applejack replied indignantly.

“Yeah, but it’s not like Jaune and Pyrrha couldn’t afford to wait,” Rainbow said.

“To wait for what, Miss Dash?” Lady Nikos demanded, not harshly but unyieldingly at the same time. “For Pyrrha to perish on the battlefield? For Mistral to burn? For years to pass before something that might be called peace returns? Ten thousand fates of death surround us, Miss Dash, and so, it being so, is it not better to seize the day while light remains rather than wait for… for what purpose? To satisfy the mores of Atlas?”

Rainbow glanced down at the dark floor of General Ironwood’s office. When put like that… sure, it wasn’t normal in Atlas to get married that young, but not everywhere was Atlas, and aside from the fact that it wasn’t normal, it wasn’t as though there was any reason why they shouldn’t be engaged. If they thought that they could make it work, then, well, good luck to them. “Sorry, my lady,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean-”

“I understand that our Mistralian ways sometimes seem quaint to you Atlesians; nevertheless, I assure you that we have our reasons,” Lady Nikos said. She paused. “By the way, Miss Dash, Miss Belladonna, it is an honour to meet my daughter’s companions from the north kingdom. She speaks very highly of you both.”

Blake bowed her head. “Thank you, my lady. We’re glad to hear that our friends are well,” she smiled. “And glad to hear that they are happy.”

“They are engaged; I do not know that they are happy,” Lady Nikos muttered. “Not that their unhappiness springs from one another, you understand… but you will also understand that I did not come from Mistral simply to bring you news of Pyrrha’s engagement to Jaune Arc. Dark forces are on the move in Mistral; Pyrrha fears that Salem stretches forth her hand against our kingdom.”

Rainbow’s eyes widened, and her and Blake’s ears both twitched in surprise. Salem? Pyrrha told her mom about Salem?

She told Aska?

She told Sun?

“It appears,” General Ironwood said, “that Miss Nikos has fully briefed Lady Nikos, Mister Wukong, and a circle of others about the true nature of the threat that confronts us,” General Ironwood said evenly, with only a slight of tiredness to show what he thought about that.

“And what would you have had Pyrrha do instead?” Lady Nikos asked. “Fight alone, with only Jaune to support and counsel her? A small group such as yours may have sufficed when two people in Vale and Atlas could talk to one another as easily as if they shared a room, but now? Your Professor Ozpin is dead, and the CCT is down – for now, at least, until your efforts in Menagerie bear fruit – Pyrrha has need of allies.”

“I’m hardly one to talk,” General Ironwood conceded. “Since the Battle of Vale, Specialist Apple and Major Schnee have both been made aware of what we’re up against. And with Lionheart having betrayed us, I understand that there was nobody to make that decision except Miss Nikos.” He paused. “Lady Nikos has brought me a lot of bad news tonight, but there is one piece of good news to share with you: Miss Nikos is the Fall Maiden. It appears the destiny that Ozpin chose for her has been realised after all.”

“But how?” Blake asked. “Sunset, is she-?”

“Miss Shimmer transferred the powers to Pyrrha peacefully,” Lady Nikos said.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “That’s… is that possible?”

“Apparently so,” Lady Nikos said. “Unless you think that Pyrrha would lie about such a thing.”

“No,” Blake said quickly. “Of course not, and she would never hurt Sunset. So… but-”

“If it’s that easy, then why is there so much fuss about these Maidens and their powers?” Applejack asked.

“It isn’t normally that easy,” General Ironwood declared. “If it were, Apple, then, as you say, there wouldn’t be so much fuss.”

“Sunset is… quite unique in certain ways,” Twilight ventured. “Unique in some of her… gifts. Perhaps that has something to do with it.”

“Quite possibly,” General Ironwood agreed. “It’s unfortunate if that is the case, but we’ve had to live with this system for a long time; if we have to keep on living with it, then that’s far from the greatest hardship that we face. The important thing is that the powers of Fall are in the hands of someone Ozpin trusted completely, rather than the hands of an enemy or… someone of dubious character.”

“Does that matter now, sir?” Twilight asked. “Now that Salem has the Relic-”

“The powers of a Maiden remain a potent weapon in their own right,” General Ironwood said. “A weapon which remains in our hands. In the right hands, the hands which Ozpin always meant to hold them.” He got up and turned away from the group, walking towards the windows out of which the night lights of Atlas could be seen gleaming brightly. “I hope that comforts him when he returns.”

Rainbow frowned. 'When he returns'? She looked at Twilight, and then at Blake and Applejack, to see if there was something they understood that she was missing. They all looked just as puzzled as she was.

For that matter, Lady Nikos, Sun, even Aska looked pretty thrown by this as well.

“Um, sir?” Rainbow said. “Isn’t Professor Ozpin-?”

“Dead, unfortunately,” General Ironwood acknowledged. “But there’s something that you don’t know about Ozpin. Something that you aren’t aware of but that you – and Miss Nikos – need to know now.” He turned back to them. “Ozpin has been cursed with a sort of immortality. Every time his body dies, his consciousness will seek out a new host to inhabit-”

“Like the powers of a Maiden, sir?” Twilight asked.

General Ironwood smiled at her. “Almost exactly like that, Twilight. The difference being that Ozpin can make his presence much more directly felt in the mind of his new host.”

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Blake.

“I’m not entirely sure,” General Ironwood admitted. “By the time that I knew Ozpin, he and his previous consciousness had merged, becoming a single entity-”

“Sounds kinda rough on the new host, if you don’t mind me sayin’, sir,” Applejack declared. “At least with these Maidens, by the sounds of it, they stay the same afterwards, just with a few new fancy tricks.”

“I can’t defend a system I barely understand,” General Ironwood said. “The point is that we need Ozpin, his wisdom, his experience, and at some point, he will be reborn into a new host. I don’t know where or when; I only know that it will happen. And when it does, I hope that he will make his way here, to Atlas; but it’s possible that he may head to Mistral instead, and that is a possibility that Miss Nikos should be aware of.”

“And us, sir?” Rainbow murmured. “Why do we need to know now, when you didn’t tell us before?”

General Ironwood didn’t answer that. Instead, he said, “Lady Nikos, I’m sorry to keep interrupting. Please, brief the specialists on the state of affairs in Mistral.”

“Thank you, General,” Lady Nikos said as she used her cane to push herself up to her feet. “I must confess that Mistral has not fared well since the Battle of Vale. With the CCT down, it has become impossible to communicate with the settlements that span our vast territory; that inability has bred panic, and panic-”

“It’s brought the grimm down on you, ain’t it, mah lady?” Applejack muttered.

“Indeed, Miss Apple,” Lady Nikos agreed. “And panic has bred yet more fear in a vicious cycle which draws the grimm like a beacon draws ships to harbour. Nor are the grimm the only menace with which the folk of Mistral must contend: bandits and brigands can sense weakness the way the grimm sense fear, it seems, for they have emerged in numbers undreamed of, laying waste to villages and even spiriting them away wholesale.”

“Spiriting them away?” Blake repeated.

“It was pretty bad,” Sun said, his voice low and sombre. “Everyone was gone by the time we got there.”

“'We'?” Blake said.

“The Myrmidons,” Sun explained, without explaining anything.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “We don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, right. So, the Myrmidons are a group set up by Pyrrha,” Sun explained, “there’s me and Neptune and Pyrrha, obviously, and Jaune and Ren and Nora and Arslan, and there’s Sage and Scarlet too, and then there’s Ditzy, and Lady Swift Foot-”

“The Myrmidons are the retainers of Pyrrha Nikos,” Aska declared, cutting Sun off. “We eat in her hall, we dwell on her estate, and we fight under her command to defend the people of Mistral from the darkness that threatens them. Mostly students of Haven Academy, there are a few tournament fighters amongst them also. And myself, of course. Around thirty warriors in all.”

“It sounds very old fashioned,” Blake murmured. “An aristocrat keeping a household of trained fighters? It could come out of a Mistralian epic.”

“As I told Miss Dash, Miss Belladonna, though our ways seem quaint to you, we have our reasons,” Lady Nikos reminded them. “Since no one else was both willing and able to defend the people of Mistral, Pyrrha felt the need to do so herself and recruited like-minded allies to assist her.”

“Do they all know about Salem?” Rainbow asked.

“No,” Lady Nikos said. “Only a select few within the company: Mister Wukong, young Lord Neptune, Mister Ren, and Miss Valkyrie, and Pyrrha’s old rival Arslan Altan. Lady Swift Foot Thrax knows something of the truth, touching on the Fall Maiden, but not the whole of it. The rest know nothing at all.”

“But why does Pyrrha need to do this?” asked Rainbow Dash. “You said nobody else would or could, but what about the Council? What about the troops who fought at Vale?”

“The Council sent forces to Vale in an attempt to enhance its prestige, prestige that had been dented by last year’s grimm crisis,” Lady Nikos explained. “Instead, the losses suffered and the comparative helplessness of our troops were a grievous blow to the Council’s authority with the people of Mistral. Any attempt to keep the troops in arms would have led to mutiny; they wished to go home, to their own families and their own communities, and who can blame them when those communities were under threat?”

“We can’t just look to our own affairs at a time like this,” Blake said. “If we don’t stand together-”

“And what has Atlas done in these past months but look to its own affairs?” Lady Nikos demanded.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Atlas has reached out to Menagerie,” she said.

“But not to Mistral,” Lady Nikos pointed out. “And how many ships and soldiers have gone to Menagerie?”

“One ship,” General Ironwood said. “With communications down, I don’t want to spread my strength across Remnant where I couldn’t contact them or get word of what was happening to them out there.”

“That is your right, General, but it is the same reasoning that has led the Council to hide in Mistral, husbanding its strength, sitting atop a sandcastle while the tide rises around it.” Lady Nikos sighed. “In all of Mistral, for a time, only Pyrrha and her companions raised their swords to defend the common people, and yet, her actions – though I would never suggest that she had acted wrongly – and the acclaim from the people that her deeds have won her, left the Steward and the Council fearful that she would claim the throne that our ancestors held and left them even more determined to keep their own swords close in case they were needed. On top of that, the swords of Mistral are fewer in number than might have been hoped for; it appears that many huntsmen and huntresses have perished of late.”

“Lionheart,” Ironwood growled.

“It may be so,” Lady Nikos agreed.

“You said ‘for a time,’” Blake pointed out. “Has something changed, my lady?”

“Much, and not all for the better,” Lady Nikos muttered. “The Lady Terri-Belle, Warden of the White Tower, has consolidated the defenders of Mistral under her banner: Pyrrha’s Myrmidons, companies under Lady Ming and Lord Rutulus, who has come here himself to treat with you, and the Imperial Guard and whatever other huntsmen remain in Mistral and at the Council’s disposal. However, such forces are still insufficient to defend the entire expanse of Mistral’s territory, and so…” Lady Nikos scowled. “And so, that territory has been handed over in large part to bandit tribes to govern on behalf of the Council, paying taxes in exchange for near-unchallenged rule over the towns and villages that fall under their sway.”

“'Bandits'?” Rainbow repeated. “You’re letting bandits take over the kingdom?”

“Only the outlying regions,” Lady Nikos replied dryly. “Believe me, Miss Dash, I share your distaste.”

“And let me guess, they’ll be clawing those taxes back by screwing the folks who live under their ‘protection’ for all their worth,” Applejack muttered.

“It is very likely, Miss Apple.”

“You might as well try and set the fox to guardin’ the hen-house!” Applejack exclaimed. “If those darn bandits wanted to protect fellas from the grimm, they’d have become huntsmen. If they wanted to do work for a livin’, they’d have taken up honest work instead of robbin’ folk of all they’ve sweated for! If they lift a finger to protect anyone, I’ll be surprised.”

Lady Nikos did not dispute the point; she merely said, “One of the bandit clans that has accepted this generous offer of a pardon for all past defences and a territory to call their own is known to you, I think: the Branwen tribe, led by one Raven Branwen.”

Blake’s eyes widened. “Yang’s mom?”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said. “It may gladden you to know, Miss Belladonna, that your friend Yang is alive and with her mother and her brigand crew.”

If Blake’s eyes gotten any wider, they were going to fall out and hit the floor. “Yang… Yang’s alive? How? That’s not possible; we-”

“Apparently, she was abducted from the battlefield by her mother,” Lady Nikos explained. “Taken back to the tribe by means of her mother’s semblance, and has been there ever since.”

“'Abducted'?” Blake repeated. “How is she? Is she a prisoner? How did you find out about this? Did Pyrrha get her out?”

“Pyrrha offered her sanctuary in our house, but she would not accept it,” Lady Nikos said, her voice touched with regret. “Apparently, she cannot escape her mother’s semblance, and she fears what might become of her if she tries to run or what might befall any who attempt to shelter her.”

Blake shook her head. “Yang isn’t afraid of anything.”

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. “It seems… she may have been taught fear. When she visited with Pyrrha briefly, she was missing two fingers upon one hand. The price of… earlier escape attempts.”

Blake gasped. “And you… and Pyrrha just let her go?! She let her go back with the woman who mutilated her?”

“That was Miss Xiao Long’s choice.”

“Yang obviously wasn’t thinking straight!” Blake cried. “Believe me, people in that position don’t think straight; they need help – Yang needed help – how could Pyrrha and Jaune just-?”

“The Branwen Tribe has more than just Yang Xiao Long,” Winter said, cutting Blake off. “Isn’t that right, my lady?”

“It is even so,” Lady Nikos agreed. “They have the Spring Maiden also. Pyrrha feared that a battle between them, in our house, in the middle of Mistral, would have put innocent lives at risk.”

“How is that possible?” Rainbow asked. “I thought that one of the points of this group was to keep the Maidens secret and safe?”

“I gotta say, sir, it's starting to look like y’all aren’t doin’ a great job at it,” Applejack said. “What with the Fall Maiden business and now this.”

“It could be worse,” Winter said. “With Lionheart a traitor, the Spring Maiden could have fallen into the hands of Salem by now.”

“I guess,” Rainbow admitted. “But how did bandits end up with the powers? How did they even know about them?”

“Raven used to be a member of Professor Ozpin’s circle, remember?” Twilight reminded her. “She was on a team with Ruby’s mother and father and uncle.”

“Oh, right,” Rainbow said. “So is that how-?”

“We don’t know,” General Ironwood admitted. “All we do know is that the Spring Maiden abandoned her post some time ago; she couldn’t take the pressure of responsibility placed on her.”

“Sounds a bit like Starlight,” Rainbow muttered.

“If only the Spring Maiden had been found so easily and brought home so quickly,” General Ironwood replied. “Or not, because as Winter points out, worse might have happened to her or the powers if they had been left under Lionheart’s control. In any event, despite attempts to find her, her whereabouts remained unknown… until now. Fortunately, it doesn’t appear that anyone else knows that the Branwens are sheltering the Spring Maiden – for now. With Salem’s agents in Mistral, and doubtless searching for Spring as we speak, who knows how long that will last?”

“How do you know that Salem’s agents are in Mistral?” Blake asked. “Are they so open about their presence?”

“We are not without some covert skill of our own,” Aska declared. “I observed Doctor Watts with my own eyes, in company with Chrysalis.”

“Chrysalis!” Rainbow snapped. “Chrysalis is in Mistral?!”

“Would it sound really selfish if I said ‘at least she’s not here’?” Twilight asked softly.

“It might be a little selfish, sugarcube, but nobody would blame you for it,” Applejack assured her.

“So the White Fang is still working with Salem,” Blake muttered. “I’d hoped… after Adam, I thought that maybe… is Sienna Khan really so blind?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know,” Rainbow suggested. “Maybe Adam isn’t the only one to start acting on his own. Maybe Chrysalis got a better offer from Salem and isn’t with the White Fang anymore.”

“Too many maybes,” Winter said softly.

“Do we know what they’re up to in Mistral?” asked Applejack.

“It appears that this Chrysalis, your old enemy, has killed Lady Ming, one of the Councillors of Mistral, and taken her place,” Lady Nikos said.

“Up to her old tricks again,” Rainbow muttered.

“She kept Cadance alive,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, and how did that work out?” Rainbow replied.

Twilight frowned. “If you know that, can’t you expose her?”

“Pyrrha tried,” Lady Nikos said. “Lady Swift Foot was sent to convey this information to her sister, Lady Terri-Belle; however, testing appeared to reveal that Lady Ming was, in fact, Lady Ming. I fear that Lady Terri-Belle looks less kindly on us now than she did before we appeared to cry wolf.”

“Maybe Lady Ming isn’t dead?” Twilight suggested.

“What, and Chrysalis is letting her out sometimes?” Rainbow said. “Nah, she’s fooling the tests somehow.”

“Lady Ming,” Applejack murmured. “Ain’t she one of the ones with troops at her disposal?”

“Indeed, and what is more, Chrysalis and Doctor Watts have suborned Lord Rutulus to their will also,” Lady Nikos said.

“Not completely,” General Ironwood replied. “Captain Armor visited Turnus Rutulus in his hotel room tonight, and he gave the word ‘Chrysalis’; I wasn’t sure what it meant, but now, it seems like an attempt to warn us of her involvement.”

“Some warning,” Rainbow muttered.

“They have a knife to his sister’s throat,” Lady Nikos said. “Is that not cause enough for caution?”

“I guess,” Rainbow admitted. She knew as well as anyone that you could do stupid things sometimes when the lives of people you cared about were at stake.

“It is for that reason, the infiltration of Salem’s agents and the power they have already accrued, that Pyrrha asked me to come here,” Lady Nikos said. “To beg for General Ironwood’s counsel and his aid.”

“You’ll have both,” General Ironwood assured her. “Although I’m not sure how much use my counsel would be. Or how much you will like it. Are the Myrmidons strong enough to launch an assault on the Brawnen tribe?”

“'Assault'?” Sun said. “You want us to attack?”

“The General would have us put the Spring Maiden to the sword and hope that the power passes to one of Pyrrha’s company,” Lady Nikos said. “Is that not so, General?”

“Nothing is more important than keeping the Relic of Knowledge out of the hands of Salem,” General Ironwood declared. “She already has one relic; she cannot get a second. And the Spring Maiden is a dangerously exposed variable in this battle. At the moment, the power of Fall gives Pyrrha an advantage over her enemies, but if that changes, if Chrysalis, gods help us, were to become the Spring Maiden, then not only could she walk into Haven Academy and retrieve the relic, but-”

“But the balance of power in Mistral would become dangerously even,” Lady Nikos finished. “We are aware, General, and I will not deny that Pyrrha has considered the notion. Miss Valkyrie and Miss Altan have both been considered as viable prospects to become Spring Maiden. But the Branwens have entered into the service of Mistral; if Pyrrha attacks them, she will be defying the authority of the Council.”

“Much must be risked in war,” General Ironwood said. “Ozpin believed that this war could be fought in the shadows, but our enemies aren’t hiding any more; they’re coming for us openly, and we have to strike back. For that reason, my advice to you is to strike first and strike hard. Occupy Haven Academy and deny the enemy access to the Vault, descend upon the Branwen Tribe-”

“And Lady Ming? And the Rutulus family?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Would you have us inaugurate a civil war in Mistral while the grimm howl beyond our walls?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “The bandits are one thing,” he said. “But it seems that the forces that Chrysalis has accumulated do not serve her willingly, but out of duress and under false pretences. Aside from the question of whether they would attack first if ordered to, that offers an opportunity to eliminate our problems by eliminating Chrysalis herself.” He clasped his hands together. “You have my advice, to deny the enemy the chance to reach the Relic of Choice by any means, as for my aid…”

He’s sending us, Rainbow thought. That’s the only reason why he’d call us all in here for this; it’s not just so we can learn that Pyrrha and Jaune are okay. He’s going to send us to Mistral, with Blake in command. She knew that. She could hear the words coming out of General Ironwood’s mouth as though he’d already said them. It was like it was already a memory to her. Blake would be given the command because she’d earned it, because she was better suited than Rainbow was, because she hadn’t screwed up like Rainbow had.

Because she was smarter than Rainbow Dash, better spoken, more inspiring… just plain better.

She was the one that Atlas needed. The one that General Ironwood needed. The one whose task for Atlas would be something great.

“I’m sending a team to Mistral to support Miss Nikos against our enemies,” General Ironwood declared. “Dash, you’re in charge.”

Dash made an incoherent spluttering noise as the not-quite memory in her head was thrown wildly off course by an uncooperative reality. “Sir?” What the hell? She glanced at Blake; she didn’t seem as surprised by this as Rainbow Dash was. In fact, she didn’t look surprised at all, let alone offended to be passed over.

That didn’t make it better. In fact, considering that Rainbow probably would have felt a little offended in spite of everything, it kind of made it worse.

She was in charge? She was in charge? Rainbow Dash and not Blake? Yeah, she’d been given jobs by General Ironwood before, but that was… that was before. Before Blake… before Rainbow had blotted her record. Why her, even now?

“You with me, Dash?” General Ironwood asked.

“Yes sir!” Rainbow said loudly.

“I recommend that you take Belladonna and Apple, as well as at least one other, but ultimately, you have freedom to choose your own mission team,” General Ironwood said. “Subject to my approval, once you present me your names before your departure.”

“Understood, sir,” Rainbow replied.

“Your orders are to accompany Lady Nikos to Mistral and present yourself to Pyrrha Nikos and to assist her in securing Mistral and denying the Relic of Knowledge to Salem’s forces,” General Ironwood. “And while you’re there, you are to eliminate Chrysalis. Locking her up didn’t work, so I want her put down, understood?”

“Perfectly, sir; it’ll be a pleasure,” Rainbow growled.

General Ironwood nodded. “Any other questions for Lady Nikos?”

Rainbow thought about it for a moment or two. “What’s the status of Haven Academy?”

“Closed, essentially,” Lady Nikos said. “Many of the students are serving with Pyrrha, and the Council does not have the appetite to either order them back to school or expel them, and so, the vacation is simply extended and extended.”

Rainbow nodded. “Do we have any other allies in Mistral besides Pyrrha and her group?”

“Councillor Ward is a friend of mine and our backer on the Council, but he has no forces of his own,” Lady Nikos said. “Lady Terri-Belle is honourable, but loyal to her father, the Steward. She would not betray him for our sake. Lord Rutulus would be an ally, I think, if his sister were not being used against him.”

That might not be a problem once we’ve put a bullet between Chrysalis’ eyes. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Yes, thank you, my lady; you’ve given us course and direction at last,” General Ironwood agreed. “I may not be able to send a fleet to Mistral, but I can send my best people. I hope that’s enough.”

“In Mistral, we have a saying, General,” Lady Nikos said, “’Boldness is armour to a brave man.’ If your young women are brave, then that will be of more use to us than a squadron of your warships.”

“Of their courage, there can be no doubt,” General Ironwood declared. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have operational matters to discuss with my personnel. Major Schnee, will you please show our guests out and help them find suitable accommodation?”

“Of course, sir,” Winter said, clicking her heels together. “Please, follow me.”

They all did, with Lady Nikos leading the way and the other two following obediently at her heels. Sun glanced at Blake, who still didn’t really meet his eyes. Aska didn’t look at Rainbow Dash at all.

So, she’s been in Mistral all this time.

This is going to be a fun mission, I can tell.

General Ironwood’s face was impassive, until the doors closed behind Winter and their Mistralian visitors.

“Questions?” he asked.

“Availability of Specialist Soleil, sir?” Rainbow asked.

“You can have Soleil, if you want her, but not Penny,” General Ironwood said. “We need her here for propaganda purposes.”

“Understood, sir,” Rainbow said. “And… if I select anyone else for the mission, someone who doesn’t know… can we tell them?”

“Give me their names, and I’ll tell you if they’re cleared to know,” General Ironwood replied.

“What about Professor Lionheart, sir?” asked Blake. “Are we going to…?”

“It’s not a priority, but if you have the shot, I expect you to take it,” General Ironwood said. “At this point, we have to assume that he’s provided Salem with all the intelligence that he had access to, but killing him might still make it harder for her agents to get into the Vault of the Spring Maiden. And, as I said, keep an eye out for Ozpin; he won’t look like the man you remember, but he may try and make contact, so be open to the possibility.” General Ironwood paused for a moment, closing his eyes and leaning forward so that his fingertips touched his forehead. “And there’s something else,” he said, “something that I couldn’t discuss in front of our guests.”

“Sir?” Rainbow murmured.

General Ironwood took a few moments to say anything. “It may be that it isn’t possible to save Mistral,” he said. “You heard what Lady Nikos said; the entire kingdom sounds as though it’s in a mess. By the sounds of things, Pyrrha and her comrades are the only ones trying to hold the levee, and there’s no guarantee that it will be enough.” The General opened his eyes, which seemed colder now, as he looked at them. “If it is not enough, if in your judgement, Dash, it seems that Mistral will fall, then you are to acquire the Relic of Knowledge by any means necessary and bring it back here to Atlas.”

“'Bring it-'” Blake gasped. “You want us to abandon Pyrrha and the others?”

“As a last resort only, Belladonna,” General Ironwood said.

“Even so, sir, we can’t go to Mistral to aid our friends and then just ditch them when-”

“Nothing is more important than keeping the relic safe!” General Ironwood declared, his voice rising. “Salem already has one of the four relics; if she acquires a second, she’ll be that much closer to total victory. But so long as we can keep the relics safe here in Atlas, then she will never win, and humanity will survive, even if Mistral does not.”

Rainbow frowned, but she said nothing. What the General was saying made a lot of sense. In a way, all of the other battles that they fought, all of the grimm or other enemies they beat, none of it really mattered, because Salem would keep coming anyway. The only things that really mattered were the relics; if Salem got them, she could destroy the world; so long as she didn’t have them, then she couldn’t. It was that simple. If Mistral was going to fall, then their team dying in the defence with everyone else wouldn’t make much difference, but if they saved a relic, then… like General Ironwood said, humanity would survive.

It made sense. But it was a cold, brutal kind of sense, the kind of sense that said you should abandon your teammates because at least you would survive even if they didn’t.

It made sense… but she didn’t much care for it.

But it was like she’d said to Ruby, back at Beacon such a long time ago: you had to trust. She had to trust General Ironwood; he saw more than she did; he understood the big picture that she couldn’t see. She was just a knight, and she had to trust the king knew what he was doing, and was doing the right thing.

Applejack didn’t look too happy about it either, but she didn’t question the orders themselves; rather, she said, “How are we supposed to do that, sir? We ain’t got the Spring Maiden to open up the vault for us, and even if Pyrrha takes your advice, and the powers go to one of her friends, they ain’t likely to hand us the relic so we can skip town and leave ‘em to face the music.”

“Pyrrha might, if she agreed that all hope was lost,” Blake murmured. “She’s… she’s someone who really would put the greater good of humanity first.”

“Noted,” General Ironwood said. “Nevertheless, I don’t think you should inform her of this particular aspect of your mission. It might generate ill-feeling on the Myrmidons if they don’t think that you’re there solely to support them. They might not trust you.”

Blake looked as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t.

“As to the how,” General Ironwood went on, “if Pyrrha won’t take the Spring Maiden’s power, then I advise you to consider doing so yourself.”

“You mean kill the Spring Maiden, sir,” Blake said, not questioning but wanting the General to spell it out.

“That’s exactly what I mean, Belladonna,” General Ironwood replied, without flinching. “If that’s not possible, then, Twilight, I want you to look at ways of breaching the vault. You can study the Vault of the Winter Maiden for reference, though don’t damage it, obviously.” He smiled, but it didn’t last much longer than a moment. “I need you to have something for the team by the time they leave.”

“Right, sir,” Twilight murmured. “So that’s why you asked me here, sir?” She laughed nervously. “For a moment, I thought you wanted me to go to Mistral.”

“Don’t worry, Twilight; I wouldn’t ask that of you,” General Ironwood assured her. “Just this.” His gaze fell upon each of them in turn. “I’m not going to pretend that I’m not asking something very dangerous of you – and I know that the danger isn’t the worst part of what I’m asking – but you’re about to embark on a mission critical to the survival of Atlas and of humanity itself. I want you to remember that.” He paused. “You have five days to make your preparations. Dismissed.”

“Permission to remain, sir,” Rainbow said. “There’s a couple more things I’d like to discuss with you, privately.”

She didn’t look at the others. She didn’t want to see if they were looking at her, although she thought they might be.

General Ironwood looked at her, unblinking, unspeaking. “Alright, Dash, you can stay.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rainbow said, looking straight ahead, not looking at her friends as they – Blake and Applejack, anyway – saluted the General, turned away, and left the office.

She was alone, with General Ironwood looking at her, staring at her, waiting.

“Did…?” Rainbow hesitated. “Did you know that Aska was in Mistral, sir?”

“No,” General Ironwood said at once. “I haven’t spoken to Aska in… in some time. Is it going to be difficult for you, working with her?”

Yes. “I’ll make it work, sir,” Rainbow replied. “I’m sure that Pyrrha and Jaune will be a help with that.”

“Mhmm,” General Ironwood murmured. “But that’s not all, is it?”

“No, sir,” Rainbow replied. She hesitated. Her throat was dry, and her lips felt chapped. She licked them. “Why did you put me in charge of this assignment, sir, and not Blake?”

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Belladonna… Belladonna is a damn good soldier, and you did good work by bringing her here to Atlas, but she has a history of putting her own ethics above her orders.”

So you’re worried Blake won’t obey your orders? Rainbow couldn’t deny that she could see the General’s point; Blake wasn’t happy about the last resort, she’d made that plain. “And you think I won’t do that, sir?”

“I think that you understand the consequences of using your own initiative at the critical moment,” General Ironwood said.

Rainbow flinched. She’d expected the answer, but she flinched anyway. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

General Ironwood clasped his hands together. “I think I can guess that you’re not happy about this either, Dash.”

“You’re not just asking Blake to betray someone who was there for her when others weren’t, sir; you’re asking us to betray someone we’ve fought alongside for the best part of a year, including one of the most nightmarish places in the whole of Remnant.”

“As a last resort,” General Ironwood reminded her. “Not as your first priority.”

“I know that, sir,” Rainbow said. “And if… and if it’s the only way to keep the relic away from Salem, I’ll do it, but… but I don’t like it.”

“And I don’t need you to like it, Dash,” General Ironwood said. “And nothing would make me happier than if you didn’t have to do it. But if you do… Salem cannot obtain a second relic, do you understand?”

Rainbow nodded her head, but only a little. It wouldn’t go further. “Yes, sir.”

“Then make sure that doesn’t happen,” General Ironwood commanded. “Dismissed.”

Rainbow saluted, then turned on her heel and walked out of the office. She found that Twilight, Applejack and Blake were waiting for her outside. The latter had her arms folded and her ears were pressed down a little.

“You guys didn’t have to wait,” Rainbow told them.

“Well, we did anyway,” Applejack informed her. “And we ain’t gonna ask what you needed to talk to the General about all by your lonesome, neither.”

Rainbow Dash reached them, and stopped walking. “You know, he didn’t even ask how your mission to Mantle went, Blake,” she observed.

“I’m not surprised,” Blake replied. “Compared to what’s going on in Mistral, the capture of Robyn Hill looks like pretty small potatoes, doesn’t it?”

Rainbow snorted. “I guess so.” She paused. “So… Mistral, huh?”

“At least we know that Jaune and Pyrrha are okay,” Twilight said. “In fact, they seem to be doing pretty well. I mean, it’s not great that Chrysalis is there, or that she’s working with Salem,” she glanced behind her in case anyone was listening. “But still… it could be a lot worse for them, right?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “Yeah, it could be a hell of a lot worse. But it sounds like they’re amongst friends, and they’ve got each other and… and they’re even going to get married, huh?” she grinned. “How about that?”

Blake smiled softly. “Well… if anyone was going to get married straight out of Beacon, it would be them.”

“Yeah, but usually ‘straight out of the academy’ means like twenty one, twenty two,” Rainbow said. “Not nineteen.”

“Do you think two or three years makes such a big difference?” Blake asked.

“I don’t know,” Rainbow admitted. “Does it give you any ideas?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Ideas for what?”

“You know,” Rainbow said. “You and Sun?”

Blake stared at her for a moment. A kind of laugh escaped her lips. “No,” she said. “I think that Sun and I… it’s not… he’s a good guy but he’s not…”

“Does he know that?” Applejack asked.

“Judging by the way that he acted tonight I’m going to guess ‘not’,” Twilight murmured.

“Then you owe it to the fella to let him know, as soon as possible,” Applejack declared. “Otherwise… the longer you leave it the more it’ll hurt him.” She paused. “I mean, if that’s really how you felt you ought to have cut the guy loose when you left Vale-”

“Applejack, come on,” Rainbow murmured.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s been carryin’ a torch fo there, anyone can see that,” Applejack declared. “He don’t see things the way Blake does, and she ought to tell him where she stands.”

“But only do it if you’re sure,” Twilight added. “You don’t get the chance to change your mind. Is it how you feel?”

“I thought you liked him,” Rainbow added.

“I do,” Blake said, “but… the only reason Sun would ever settle in one place… is because I asked him too, and I’m not ready to do that. I won’t tie him down, but I can’t wander like a lost balloon the way that he would if he could.”

“Long distance?” Rainbow suggested. “Once the CCT is back up-”

“Even long distance relationships usually have the promise of something closer, don’t they?” Blake asked. “Even if that promise seems very distant.”

“I’m just saying…” Rainbow said, trailing off for a moment. “If you break his heart, you realise we’ll still have to work with him, right?”

“You’re not suggesting that Blake lie to him, are you?” Twilight gasped.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, since we’ll be lying to Pyrrha,” Blake muttered.

Rainbow sucked in a breath. Now they were come to it. She supposed that they’d just been putting it off up until now. “Right. That.”

“I don’t like it,” Applejack said flatly. “I don’t know Pyrrha or Jaune or any of ‘em the way that you three do, but even so, I don’t like it. It’s dishonest.”

“It’s dishonourable,” Blake said.

“It’s a last resort,” Rainbow insisted. “Just like General Ironwood said. It’s a last resort and we probably won’t have to do it. If we do our jobs then we won’t have to do it.”

“You know that we can’t guarantee that based on our efforts,” Blake countered. “Not least because the enemy has agency as well.”

“It’s a last resort,” Rainbow repeated.

“And I’m glad of that, believe me-”

“You don’t sound very glad,” Rainbow pointed.

“I’m sorry, should I sound happy that I probably won’t have to abandon our friends to die!” Blake said, her voice rising. “We’re talking about Jaune and Pyrrha here! We’ve fought with them, I shared a dorm room with them, and when General Ironwood told us that we were going to Mistral to see them again I felt so... I can see the smile on Pyrrha’s face,” she said softly, her ears drooping. “I can feel the warmth of her embrace as she welcomes me to Mistral the way that you know that she’ll welcome all of us: with open arms and an open heart. I can… I can hear her telling us how glad she is to see us again, how grateful she is to have us here.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but at the same time I confess I did hope that if General Ironwood sent us any aid it would be you. I will be honoured to fight alongside you once again.” “Yeah,” Rainbow said hoarsely. “Yeah, I can hear that, too.”

“And it will feel like a dagger through my gut because I know what she doesn’t,” Blake went on, “that we’ve been ordered to betray her and abandon her to her fate. And not just Jaune and Pyrrha but the whole of Mistral.”

“As a last-”

“Stop saying ‘last resort’!” Blake yelled. “And it’s not just Jaune and Pyrrha that we’re talking about, but the whole of Mistral! Forgive me, but isn’t that what Sunset’s name was tarred with seven shades of infamy for even contemplating?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Rainbow declared.

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Rainbow insisted. “Yes, if our orders were to bug out and save our own lives for no other reason than to save our own lives then it would be exactly the same thing, but they’re not. We’re not doing this to save ourselves, we’re doing it to save the Relic, to keep it out of Salem’s hands. General Ironwood’s right, we can’t afford to let her get another one. Apart from anything else, the more she has the easier it might get for her to pick up the rest.”

Blake began, “So long as she doesn’t get the Relic in Atlas-”

“She might find hurting Atlas a lot easier once she has more Relics,” Rainbow replied. “We can’t take the risk.”

“So we lie to the people who think we’re there to help ‘em?” Applejack asked.

“We are there to help them!”

“Then we should tell ‘em everything,” Applejack said. “And if they’re as nice as you say, if it’s as obviously the right thing as you say it is, then they’ll understand and won’t hold it against us.”

“That’s not our orders,” Rainbow said.

“I know,” Applejack admitted. “But I like the sound of my plan a lot better.”

“I don’t like either plan,” Blake muttered.

“I don’t like it,” Rainbow told her. “But this isn’t Mistral. We don’t always have the option to be honourable. You don’t like it, I don’t like it, I don’t think General Ironwood likes it either. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not the smart thing to do.”

“There was a time you wouldn’t have done the smart thing,” Blake pointed out.

“There was a time I screwed up,” Rainbow replied. “That’s not going to happen this time.” She paused. “But I… maybe we could… Applejack, I’ll think about it.”

Applejack nodded. “Can’t say fairer than that, I guess.”

“How are you going to get the Relic?” Twilight asked.

“You tell me, Twi, do you have any ideas how we could get into the vault?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, I’m thinking ‘bomb’, but I’m hoping that you’ve got something smarter in mind.”

“No, bomb is one of two options I can think of,” Twilight admitted. “The other is a laser.”

“That one’s probably more subtle than a bomb,” Rainbow said.

“The other option being murder,” Blake said darkly.

Rainbow sighed. “It would make it easier to rescue Yang,” she pointed out.

“We’re still talking about killing someone.”

“A bandit, by the sounds of it,” Applejack said. “I got some problems with this mission, but putting some low-life, no-good, lyin’ and murderin’ outlaw scum ain’t one of ‘em.”

“Bandit,” Blake said. “Not outlaw.”

“There’s a difference?” Applejack asked.

Blake snorted. “Outlaws are good men, forced to go outside the law to fight wickedness,” she explained. “At least, that’s what May told me.”

“Would you be acting like this if you hadn’t just spent the night with the Shadowbolts?” Rainbow asked.

“I might be more easily convinced by you if I hadn’t spent the night with the Shadowbolts,” Blake answered.

“That’s what I said,” Rainbow said. “Come on, it’s been a long night, let’s hit the sack and tomorrow we can talk about who we want to make up the numbers on the mission team.”

Blake inhaled deeply, and exhaled just as long. “That’s probably a good idea,” she admitted. She uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her sides. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?” Rainbow answered, as they all began to make their way towards the elevator.

“Who was that girl, Aska?” Blake asked. “You seemed to know each other.”

Rainbow glanced at Twilight, and at Applejack. “I, uh… well… Aska… it’s a long story,” she said. General Ironwood had introduced Aska only as a huntress, after all; if he didn’t want to disclose who she was to him then it wasn’t Rainbow’s place or Twilight’s place or the place of anyone else, for that matter, to do that instead. “Can we just turn in? It’s been a night, don’t you think?”

Blake hesitated, but nodded in the end. “Sure,” she agreed. “We can pick all of this up in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said. In the morning.

When nothing would have changed, Aska would still be here and they would still potentially have to do something downright unpleasant in the service of Atlas.

But at least it would be brighter in the morning.

Team Roster

Team Roster

What with how their mission was a secret one, going to Sugarcube Corner to discuss the team roster was, unfortunately, out of the question, and so it was with coffee from the vending machine out in the hallway and toast from the cafeteria a couple of flaws down that Rainbow Dash, Applejack and Blake sat down in the room that Rainbow and Blake shared in the academy to hash out their next move.

Blake’s Peace Tree, the sculpture made out of bullets and guns that Spearhead had given her, cast a shadow over them from where it sat in the corner of the room. Rainbow sat on her bottom bunk bed, while Blake sat on the desk on the other side of the room, her legs dangling slightly, not quite touching the floor. Applejack sat on a chair, her hat pushed so far back on her head it looked like it was about to fall.

Rainbow drank some of her coffee. It wasn’t that great. She’d definitely had better. Still, it was warm and brown and she needed something to pick her up in the morning.

“Okay,” she said. “The first thing that I think we ought to do is think about who else we want for this mission. Who else we’d like.” She paused. “And are we going to sound them out before we give their names to the General.”

“What if we sound ‘em out and the General says no?” Applejack asked.

“What if the General says yes and they say no?” Rainbow replied. “Either way it means we have to go back and think about it some more, but if we only offer General Ironwood names that we know will come along then he can tell us who he finds acceptable. I don’t think we can give him the twenty names on our longlist and ask him to give us ‘yes’ or ‘no’ for all of them. Especially since we’ll probably have to justify our choices.” She drank some more of her coffee, and then got out her scroll.

“What are you doing?” Blake asked.

“I’m going to make notes so that we can justify our choices,” Rainbow said.

Blake’s eyebrows rose.

“Don’t look at me like that, it makes me feel guilty I didn’t do stuff like this before.”

“Possibly you should have,” Blake murmured.

“You sound like Sunset,” Rainbow muttered. Nevertheless, she kept her scroll out and she opened up the notepad app. She’d been given a second chance by General Ironwood and she wasn’t going to screw it up. She would be conscientious, hard-working, and one hundred percent by the book. The model team leader, just like Sunset had urged her to be.

“I am not the fighter that you are, either. Without my magic you would kick my ass, I admit that. I will never be the fighter that you are but you will never be fit for command, not while you take your skills for granted and indulge your weaknesses.”

Okay, Sunset probably hadn’t had ‘one hundred percent by the book’ in mind, but she had told Rainbow to shape up, and this was what Rainbow shaping up looked like.

Taking my own notes. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

“Have you given any thought,” Blake murmured, “about what we talked about last night?”

Rainbow smiled, if only a little bit, “Last night we said what we meant. There’s nobody here but us, and there are no listening devices, you know that. You mean have I thought about telling Pyrrha the truth?”

“If we’re going to say what we mean,” Blake said archly. “Then have you thought about telling Pyrrha that our orders include leaving her to die and taking Mistral’s Relic?”

“It’s not Mistral’s Relic, they’ve got no more right to it than we do,” Rainbow replied.

“That’s… debatable,” Blake said.

“That ain’t what we’re here to debate,” Applejack reminded them both. “Have you thought about it, Rainbow?”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. One hundred percent by the book. “Blake,” she said. “Do you remember when we were at Beacon, we had to pair off with students who weren’t on our team to write reports on stories for Legends class?”

Blake smiled softly. “I remember. I got paired with Pyrrha,” she said. “She wanted to do the story of The Shallow Sea.”

Rainbow frowned. “Isn’t that a faunus story?”

“It is, although it’s popularity is in decline amongst our people,” Blake explained. “But Pyrrha had had it from her trainer, a faunus, and apparently she loved it. She loved the idea of transformation. Becoming her true self.” The smile faded from her face. “You know, when I think about it, what’s happened to her is… quite sad.”

“Sad?” Rainbow repeated. “She became the Fall Maiden in the end, just like she wanted, and she didn’t have to climb into any creepy machines to do it.”

“That doesn’t mean that she hasn’t paid for the power that she now possesses,” Blake insisted. “Just because she didn’t suffer the loss of her soul, or have her personality overwritten, doesn’t mean that…” she paused for a moment, looking down at her hands as she clasped them together in her lap. “Pyrrha wanted to be seen for who she was, not what she was, but that… that will never happen for her now, will it? She’ll always be what, not who? She is the Fall Maiden, the Champion of Mistral in truth as well as in title. She will never escape a pedestal that high.”

“There are worse things than to be praised for the good that you’ve done,” Rainbow replied.

“Of course there are, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a bad thing, especially when it is a thing that you’ve sought to escape,” Blake insisted. She sighed. “I wonder how lonely she feels, up there.”

“She’s got that boy Jaune, seems like,” Applejack reminded them both. “And from what you two have said, from what little I saw of ‘em, they’re pretty sweet on one another.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Rainbow said, a grin sprouting upon her face.

“And this pedestal, well, I guess I can see it form what you’ve been sayin’, but it sounds like it ain’t stopped him from puttin’ a ring on her finger, even if it is only the engagement ring so far,” Applejack added. “I don’t mean to say that it’s nothin’ at all, and I won’t claim to know her well enough to say if it’s the sort of thing that would upset her or no, but just remember that she ain’t alone no more.”

“No,” Blake allowed. “No, she isn’t. Is that enough?”

Applejack leaned back in her chair. “My Ma and my Pa came from different families.”

She paused, her eyes widening a little bit as she realised what she’d just said.

“I mean of course they came from different families, I don’t want you gettin’ no ideas about us Apples, now!” she wagged her finger at Blake. “I know what some people think of us country folk and it makes me just about mad enough to want to kick somethin’!

“Anyway, what I was tryin’ to say is that my Ma and my Pa came from families that, well, they didn’t traditionally see eye to eye, the Apples and the Pears. I don’t know how it got started but by the time my folks were around our age it had been goin’ on so long it was just one of those things. Until my Ma and Pa, well, they fell in love, that’s about the long and the short of it. Fell in love, and got themselves married in a hurry before my grandpa – on my mother’s side – could take her off to Mantle with ‘im. She had to leave her whole family behind, her Pa, she even changed her name from Pear Butter to Buttercup so nobody would know who she used to be.”

Applejack fell silent for a moment. “I ain’t sure how much my granny took to havin’ a pear daughter in law, at first; I guess it might have been kind of hard for her at first. But she had my Pa, and he had her, and they loved each other and that was enough. It’s always enough, havin’ the one you love right by your side. So don’t worry too much about Pyrrha now, sugarcube, so long as she’s got him and he’s got her, things won’t be so bad for ‘em.”

She chuckled. “Sorry, Rainbow, you were about to say somethin’.”

“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow murmured, scratching the back of her head. She looked down at the scroll in her hand. Unfortunately she hadn’t started to make any notes yet, and she thought that perhaps her point had not been note-worthy material. She finished off her coffee while she tried to remember what it was she’d been about to say. Something about the Legends class exercise where they- yes! That! “I got paired with Ruby,” she told the other two. “And she wanted to do this book that she had-”

“The Song of Olivia?” Blake guessed.

“Yes, that one,” Rainbow said.

“Never heard of it,” Applejack said.

“It’s an old Valish story, but copies are quite hard to come by these days,” Blake explained. “It was a gift to her from one of our classmates, Dove Bronzewing.” Blake’s brow furrowed, and she glanced away.

Applejack’s voice was soft. “I take it that he didn’t make it?”

“You could say that,” Blake replied, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Poor Dove. He deserved better.” She shook her head, as if she could dispose of the errant thought that way. “Sorry, Rainbow Dash, I keep interrupting. What were you saying?”

“I guess I’d better explain quickly to Applejack,” Rainbow said. “This book that Ruby had is about a knight. Well, she starts off as a shepherdess, but she hates that and she wants to become a knight, so when the wizard gives her a magic sword-”

“What does she need a magic sword for?” Applejack asked.

“I asked that too, Pyrrha told Ruby that it showed that she was worthy,” Rainbow explained. “Anyway, the point is that she becomes a knight and she serves the king, and I said to Ruby that she sounded more like a specialist than a huntress, because she takes orders from her king instead of just doing whatever she wants.”

“And now we get to the point,” Applejack declared.

“Exactly,” Rainbow agreed. “Ruby and I… we got to talking on it, about the way that Olivia acts when the king – or his son, who becomes king later – orders her to do something that she doesn’t like.” Rainbow chuckled. “Ruby, she asked me what I’d do if General Ironwood ever turned evil.”

“Now why would she ask a fool question like that?” Applejack said.

“I don’t believe that the General has suddenly become an evil man,” Blake said. “But I can see how his actions might seem… I can see how his actions might seem to someone who didn’t know him the way we do.”

“General Ironwood is doing what he thinks is right,” Rainbow insisted.

“I know,” Blake said. “But that doesn’t mean that he’s doing the right thing.”

Rainbow couldn’t argue with that, as uncomfortable as the thought was. She didn’t like to think of General Ironwood, who had been such a towering figure – in every sense – of her youth, as being flawed, as being fallible, as being capable of making mistakes. He was the General, high in the tower or on the bridge of his flagship, able to see the whole board with a clarity that they on the ground could never equal. The idea that he didn’t see any more clearly than them, or not clearly enough to make the right calls, the idea that nobody understood what was going on, nobody could make the right calls… it was, in its own way, more disturbing to think about than the immortality of Salem.

“I told Ruby that we had to trust,” she said. “I told her that we had to put our faith in General Ironwood, that he understands more than we do, that he sees better than we do, that he knows better than the likes of us what needs to be done.”

Blake was silent a moment before she said, “And now?”

Rainbow ran one hand through her many-coloured hair. “You know, when Olivia is young and stupid and she gets a command that she doesn’t like, she runs off and does the thing that she wanted to do in the first place. But when she’s older, and wiser, she talks to the king, alone, and changes his mind.”

“You hopin’ to change General Ironwood’s mind?” Applejack asked.

“No, I’m hoping to persuade him to let us tell Pyrrha the truth,” Rainbow replied. “She doesn’t want Salem to win any more than we do, she’ll understand… probably. She’ll understand about the Relic, anyway… I think.”

“I think you might be right,” Blake agreed. “She is noble enough to accept on her own behalf what seems… monstrous to do to her. But, what if General Ironwood refuses?”

“Then we keep our mouths shut,” Rainbow said.

“Just like that?” Blake said.

“Just like that,” Rainbow replied.

“Because of trust?”

“Because we’re soldiers, and that’s how this works,” Rainbow reminded her. One hundred percent by the book.

“Now,” she said, raising her voice a little bit, “we should probably get started on discussing who we want, and I’ll start off, we should take Ciel. Blake and I have worked with her before, she knows exactly what we’re up against, and we could probably use a sniper.”

With one finger, she tapped Ciel Soleil, worked with her before, knows the truth, sniper skills into the notepad on her scroll.

“I ain’t got no objection to that,” Applejack said. “We won’t even have to tell her about Salem and all the rest.”

“Is this kind of mission really for her, though?” Blake asked.

“Is it for any of us?” Applejack replied. “Is it for anyone that you could think of? Anyone that we’d want to go into battle with?”

“I… no, I guess not,” Blake confessed.

“This isn’t going to be an easy mission,” Rainbow said. “But Ciel’s got the mettle, she’ll deal with it… the way that we’ll all have to deal with it one way or the other.”

“Ciel, then,” Applejack said. “You got any other ideas?”

“One or two,” Rainbow said. “Lycus Silvermane.”

Applejack frowned. “Who?”

“From Team Pastel,” Rainbow explained.

Applejack blinked. “Phoebe’s team?”

“Phoebe turned out to be… even worse than anyone suspected,” Rainbow said. “But her team were her victims, not her allies, they’re not like her.”

“What are they like?” Applejack asked. “I don’t know ‘em. I didn’t think you knew ‘em either?”

“I don’t,” Rainbow admitted. “But I know that Lycus has an appearance-changing semblance, just like Chrysalis, which might come in handy in Mistral. And I know that we don’t have the luxury of restricting our choices to our best friends; this is a mission, not a vacation.”

“This is a mission where we’re going to be all alone in a foreign kingdom with only one another to rely on,” Applejack began.

“One another and Pyrrha’s group,” Blake corrected.

Applejack was quiet for a moment. “Well, maybe,” she allowed. “For a while, perhaps.”

Blake bit her lip. “I guess.”

“My point is,” Applejack continued. “What you call only pickin’ our friends, I might call pickin’ folks we can rely on to watch our backs when things get tough. Sure, that sounds like a handy semblance to have, but apart from his semblance I don’t know this boy from anyone you could bring in off the street in Atlas and I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that I can put my life in the hands of somebody I don’t know like that.” She paused. “I’d like to ask Maud, someone I’ve worked with before.”

Rainbow winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I guess we kind of take that year at Beacon for granted, don’t we?”

“I do sometimes feel like I missed a lot more than a year’s schoolin’, yeah,” Applejack replied.

“Sorry,” Rainbow said again. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I’ll try and remember. As for Maud… I mean, yeah, she’s plenty strong. I’m not sure she’d appreciate finding out that we’ve been keeping this a secret from Pinkie.”

“That’s the part that you're worried about?” Blake asked. “Not how she’d react to finding out about Salem and all the rest?”

Rainbow waved one hand dismissively. “Maud would be fine with all that. Maud’s fine with just about anything. If you count not havin’ a reaction as fine.”

“Maud has reactions,” Applejack protested. “Just little itty bitty ones. She’s kind of like Big Mac in that regard.”

Rainbow nodded. “I thought they’d make a cute couple.”

Applejack shook her head. “Nah, he needs someone to bring him out of his shell, and Maud needs… well, I don’t rightly know what Maud needs but it ain’t a boy who can’t string two words together without a break between ‘em. Anyway, I hope you remember that time that she got swallowed up by a bushwhacker and busted her way straight out again? Seems to me that we could use someone like that.”

“We could,” Rainbow said. “But so could Team Tsunami, they’ll be a man down again if we steal Maud.”

“I was going to throw Starlight’s name into the ring,” Blake offered. “And maybe Trixie, too.”

“We can’t leave Sunburst on his own,” Rainbow said.

Blake shrugged. “Sunburst wouldn’t have been on my list but is there any reason we can’t put the whole of Team Tsunami down on the list and offer them to General Ironwood for approval? We all know them, I certainly trust them, they’ve had my back before, and yours; and Applejack, you said yourself, you’d worked with Maud. And if we can have a team of more than four then is there any reason we can’t go as high as eight?”

“I don’t know,” Rainbow murmured.

“They’re talented enough,” Blake insisted. “And if we are going to talk about… if we really are going to kill the Spring Maiden then isn’t Starlight an obvious choice? Her power is absorbing and assimilating other people’s powers, she could probably pick up the magic-”

“No,” Rainbow said firmly. “Whatever else, we aren’t using Starlight for that. In fact… I don’t really want Starlight at all. Not for this.”

Blake blinked in confusion. “Why not?”

Rainbow got to her feet. “Because… I haven’t actually asked her this, because I don’t know how to put it without giving away that we know things… I mean she already thinks that we’re up to something, but this would really prove it… but I think that Starlight has already been considered for something like that. Probably for that reason.”

Applejack took the hat off her head. “What makes you say that, Sugarcube?”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. “When Team Rosepetal and Team Sapphire were on our mission to Mountain Glenn, Team Tsunami acted as our back-up with Twilight. They were in a second Skyray, away from the city, waiting in case we needed them. That first night, just after we landed… I should back-up for a second and say that from the moment they found out we were going into Mountain Glenn Starlight thought there was something screwy about all this. Why us, why students, that kind of thing.”

“She is a smart cookie,” Applejack muttered.

“I know,” Rainbow murmured. “Anyway, she tried to find out from Twilight what this was all about, and she dropped the words ‘Winter Maiden’. Now, Twilight didn’t know what that meant at the time, and neither did I, but-”

“Now we do,” Applejack said.

“Uh huh,” said Rainbow Dash. “Now, we don’t know who the Winter Maiden is, but based on what happened with Pyrrha, and based on what happened with Starlight, I think I can guess how it went down. The Winter Maiden, maybe the same one that saved Twilight on the road all those years ago, she started dying; maybe she got attacked like Amber, maybe she was just old, I don’t know. Either way, they needed to find a new Winter Maiden, so the General and Professor Ozpin and whoever else – Principal Celestia, maybe – they picked Starlight to inherit the powers. She’s smart, she’s strong, and like you said, Blake, she can pick up new powers like it’s nothing at all. Why wouldn’t they pick her? Only Starlight didn’t feel the same way.”

“Her big freakout,” Applejack said.

“Her what now?”

“The reason Starlight had to retake her first year,” Rainbow explained. “I don’t want to talk about her behind her back, but-“

“She left Atlas without telling nobody where she was goin’, had to be tracked down, and when she was finally found in the middle of nowhere she was…” Applejack trailed off. “That is to say she was…”

“Crazy,” Rainbow said.

“Rainbow Dash!”

“What else are we supposed to call it?” Rainbow asked. “The point is, everyone thought that it was just the stress of being team leader and the expectations that people had from someone of her talent and the way that other people didn’t like her because of her semblance-”

“That sounds quite enough,” Blake murmured.

“Maybe, but I think being asked to become the Winter Maiden had something to do with it,” Rainbow said. “I mean, how else would she know about that? We weren’t told about that until we needed to know, so why would Starlight get told before us except-”

“Except that they wanted to make a Maiden of her,” Blake concluded for her. “It makes sense. Everything makes sense.” She sighed. “If you’re right, that means the Winter Maiden is only about the same age as we are. I wonder who they found to take the powers instead?”

“That’s one of those questions that we could guess all mornin’ and never know if we’d gotten the answer right,” Applejack said. “We ain’t gonna find out who the Winter Maiden is until the General decides to tell us.”

“The point is that Starlight doesn’t handle pressure very well,” Rainbow declared. “And this mission… I think we can all agree it’s gonna have a lot of pressure.”

“No doubt about that,” Blake muttered.

“So we can’t take Starlight,” Rainbow said. “And we can’t take Team Tsunami away from Starlight because it wouldn’t be right, and also because without Starlight it wouldn’t really be Team Tsunami now, would it? I’d love to have Starlight, I’d like to have Maud, I wouldn’t even mind having Trixie, but Tsunami is one of those teams where… where what you get out isn’t the same as what you put in. The four of them together make something more than you get out of them alone.”

“Like Team Sapphire,” Blake murmured. “I see your point, it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t be right or effective to split them up.” She leapt down off the table. “Okay then, here’s my next suggestion: Weiss Schnee.”

“Weiss?” Rainbow repeated. “Weiss Schnee?”

“She’s talented, she doesn’t have a team to worry about leaving behind, and it’s not as though she has anything better to do,” Blake said.

“She ain’t a Specialist,” Applejack pointed out. “Heck, she ain’t even a huntress.”

“She’s as experienced as we are,” Blake declared. “At least, she’s as experienced as the average specialist our age who got accelerated graduation after Vale – a battle she fought at just the same as us. If she had gone to Atlas she would absolutely be a specialist and a huntress by now.”

“But she ain’t,” Applejack said. “And I reckon her pa has somethin’ to do with the fact that she ain’t.”

“Which is the other reason you’re throwing down her name,” Rainbow said. “Isn’t it?”

Blake chuckled nervously. “Am I that transparent?”

“Maybe not if I didn’t know you,” Rainbow replied. “But I do know you, and ever since Sunset and I rescued you you’ve wanted to turn that around and rescue everybody else that you possibly could.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Blake asked.

“No, but like I said, this isn’t a mission where we can take our friends.”

“Weiss has the skill to keep up with us, to be useful on this mission,” Blake insisted. “Yes, I have ulterior motives, yes, I think that it would be good for Weiss to get out of her father’s house, and yes, I think she’ll welcome the opportunity, but I wouldn’t be suggesting if I thought Weiss couldn’t pull her weight, and I certainly wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t think Weiss could survive the battles ahead. She’s a fighter, she might not have gone to Atlas but neither did I. The only difference between us is a technicality.”

“And the fact that she was never interested in going to Atlas,” Rainbow pointed out.

“Blake’s got a point, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “And it ain’t like the military never works with ordinary huntsmen neither. It don’t happen too often, but it happens.”

“But we’re not talking about just a job, here,” Rainbow said. “Are we sure that she’s going to be able to follow orders? Orders that she might find uncomfortable?”

“Isn’t that the question hanging over everyone that we might think of?” Blake asked, in a soft voice. “I trust Weiss to do the right thing.”

That’s not the same thing, is it, which is why you’re not leading on this mission, Rainbow thought. But, if they couldn’t trust Weiss to make the hard choice, well… General Ironwood didn’t trust Blake to make the hard choice either, that was why he’d made Rainbow team lead even though Blake was better suited for it in every way – every way except obedience.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll add her to the list.” Weiss Schnee: Experienced huntress, highly skilled, versatile semblance.

“Ah suppose,” Applejack added. “That if we are helpin’ Weiss Schnee escape her home and run off to meet up with some old school friends in Mistral, well… it might make us seem less like General Ironwood’s agents, maybe.”

Rainbow snorted. “I’m not sure we’ll fool Chrysalis, but someone might buy it, sure.”

They talked over some more names, but without really settling on any of them. Nobody quite fitted, no one was quite right, no one met all the criteria: they had to be good, because they were going up against some powerful enemies; they had to be someone that they could all trust, because at the last resort they’d only have each other to rely on; and they had to ideally be someone who could lift right out, who didn’t ruin a team by their absence, who weren’t going to leave their comrades in the lurch by disappearing like this.

As it turned out, that was quite a challenging set of boxes to tick. Not many managed it: Ciel – and even that was going to be a bit of a blow to Penny – and Weiss were the only two who did.

It didn’t feel great to have come up with so few names – so much for starting over with her best foot forward – but Rainbow comforted herself with the knowledge that they couldn’t take a whole army to Mistral, so maybe five people was about right.

Now they just had to get clearance from the General for Weiss… and make sure that Weiss herself was on board with the idea.

Weiss lowered Myrtenaster. “You’re improving,” she said.

Rarity lowered her épée in turn. “Why, thank you, darling, do you really think so?”

Weiss nodded. “Certainly. Your technique is stronger and you’re getting better at balancing your weapon with your semblance.”

Rarity laughed. “That’s kind of you to say, but I’m certainly not you in that regard.”

“And I’m not my sister, Winter,” Weiss replied. “We’re none of us perfect, and we all have someone to catch up to. That’s why we keep practicing.”

“I’m not sure that I’ve provided you with sufficient challenge to actually improve yourself, darling, as much as you’re improving me,” Rarity replied.

That was… not entirely false, but Weiss didn’t want to hurt the other girl’s feelings by confirming it out loud. “I’m just glad that I have the chance to feel useful,” she said. “Do you know that Flash is on a special assignment for General Ironwood?”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. “No, I didn’t.” She smiled. “But then, I’m not his girlfriend, am I?”

Weiss laughed a little. “All that means at the moment is that he told me that he’s too busy – for anything! While I, on the other hand, have time for everything.” She paused. A sigh escaped her lips. “There are times when I almost wish that my dream was something more acceptable to my father; that way I could pursue it.”

“You don’t really mean that,” Rarity said. It was a statement, not a question.

“No,” Weiss admitted. “But… I envy Blake. I envy all of you, getting to do the things that you love, but I envy Blake most of all because she’s making a real difference. No offence.”

“None taken, darling,” Rarity assured her breezily. “Speaking of which, hello there, you two!”

Rarity waved, and the direction of her wave drew the attention of Weiss to the doors leading out of the changing rooms and into the main combat area of their sepulchral training space. Blake and Rainbow Dash had just come through those doors, Blake walking a step behind Rainbow as they approached Weiss and Rarity.

Rainbow waved back. “Hey, Rarity. Weiss. How’s it going?”

“Better than expected, thanks to my excellent teacher,” Rarity said. “And how are you two? Blake, how was your mission in Mantle last night?”

Blake didn’t meet Rarity’s eyes. “It was… an experience.”

Weiss folded her arms. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” murmured Blake.

“Obviously that’s not true or you wouldn’t be acting like this,” Weiss declared in a slightly tart voice.

“How much do you know about Mantle, Weiss?” Rainbow asked.

“Practically nothing, I’m afraid,” Weiss admitted.

“Well, if you ever see it, it might be a lot for you to take in as well,” Rainbow replied.

“Ah,” Weiss murmured. “Something else to make me ashamed of my family name and what my father has done to it?”

“This isn’t about the SDC,” Blake said quietly.

“Most things in this kingdom are about the SDC, one way or another, I’ve found,” Weiss said. “You don’t have to keep quiet on my account, I thought you understood that by now.”

“It isn’t entirely about the SDC, although the company isn’t helping,” Blake responded. “It’s the fact that there’s no alternative to the SDC, it’s the fact that the people down there think more of a vigilante group than they do of the military, it’s the fact that Atlas seems to have abandoned Mantle-”

“I thought there was a military garrison?” Weiss asked.

“There is,” Blake admitted. “But it’s almost as if… it’s like Atlas is maintaining the shell of Mantle, but doesn’t care that the egg inside has gone rotten, if that makes sense.”

“As the only person here who was actually born in Mantle, I’m afraid that makes perfect sense to me,” Rarity observed. “Very few things made me happier than when my parents were able to move to Canterlot. It’s a much better environment for Sweetie Belle to grow up in.”

“You don’t really talk about Mantle much,” Blake observed.

“I happened to be born in Mantle, darling, in much the same way that a man may have the misfortune to be born in a stable,” Rarity declared. “It does not make him a horse, and it certainly does not require him to reminisce about the smell of straw. I have been an Atlesian lady in my heart, since I was old enough to understand what that was.”

As someone who knew more about Atlesian ladies than any of the other girls gathered here, Weiss rather hoped not. It was true that Rarity shared, or appeared to share, some of the superficial – in every sense – qualities of that type. But there was also more to her than that, as the time Rarity practicing with Weiss showed, if nothing else did. She hoped, she very much hoped, that Rarity did not lose sight of that.

“I imagine,” she said delicately, “that that… was not an attitude that endeared you to everyone living in Mantle.”

Rarity let out a little titter of a laugh, “Well, I… let’s just say that I was very glad to find in Canterlot a degree of acceptance that I had found somewhat lacking elsewhere.”

“But you can’t deny that Mantle has its issues,” Blake said.

“Mantle has made itself distant, miserable, and hard to love, and it blames the world for that,” Rarity said. “But, I don’t suppose I can deny that not all of its problems are self-inflicted. Mantle needs something beyond the mines that it can rely on; ideally something that would brighten up an oppressively dreary place. Unfortunately I can’t think what that something might be. Very little makes as much money as dust mining, after all.”

“Unfortunately, as you say, that’s true,” Weiss murmured.

“It’s a tough one,” Rainbow admitted. “But we didn’t actually come here to talk about Mantle. We came here to talk to you, Weiss. Alone, sorry Rarity.”

“Quite alright, darling,” Rarity said, sounding not at all put out by this. “I’ll be in the changing room, if you need me. Thank you again, Weiss dear.”

Weiss smiled. “Always a pleasure, Rarity.”

Rarity’s heels tapped on the floor as she walked towards the same doors that Rainbow and Blake had lately emerged from. Rainbow watched her go. Only when the changing room door swung shut behind Rarity did she ask, “How’s she doing?”

“She’s got a talent for it,” Weiss said. “It’s almost a pity it’s not her primary passion.”

“Maybe,” Rainbow muttered, sounding like she didn’t really agree with Weiss about that.

“So,” Weiss said. “What can I do for you?”

“Come to Mistral with us?” Blake said.

Weiss’ eyebrows rose, even as her heart began to rise with it, “Excuse me?”

“We’re putting together a team,” Rainbow explained, “for a mission for Atlas outside the kingdom. We can’t tell you much, but-”

“You don’t have to,” Weiss said, “I’m in.”

Rainbow blinked. “Well, I can give you more detail than that.”

“Unnecessary,” Weiss replied. “You had me at ‘outside the kingdom’. Actually no, you had me at ‘Mistral’.”

“Just like that?” Rainbow asked.

“If you didn’t know how desperate I was to get out of Atlas then why did you ask me?”

“I thought that you might like to get away from… everything,” Blake replied. “But don’t accept too hastily. This is going to be-”

“Dangerous?” Weiss asked. “Oh, well, in that case, I’ll just stay at home and gather dust like one of Father’s sculptures, because it isn’t as though I was training to be a huntress or anything.”

Blake cringed. “I understand, but I didn’t mean it like that,” she assured Weiss. “This isn’t just going to be a normal mission, this is… it’s hard to explain at the moment but it’s an extraordinary assignment, fraught with extraordinary peril.”

“I don’t care,” Weiss declared. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous, I don’t care if it’s the most dangerous assignment in the history of Atlas, I don’t care if it’s a borderline suicide mission so long as I get to do something!”

She turned away from them both, stalking a few paces across the hall. “You two have no idea what it’s like. I listen to you talk about how you feel inactive, about how bored you are waiting for General Ironwood to unveil his plan and I want to strangle the pair of you because any time you like you can just wander down to the nearest job board and find yourself an assignment to pass the time,” she rounded on the pair of them as she continued, “while I, who studied for every bit as long as you, Blake, and whose skill is not incomparable to either of yours, am reduced to… I am an ornament to my father. I stand by his side and I look pretty. I sit at his table and I look pretty. The only time I am permitted to open my mouth is when he requires me to sing prettily like a trained bird… a bird in a cage. So take me to war, take me to my death, at least let me be useful in the days before.”

“What about Flash?” Blake asked softly.

Weiss’s brow furrowed. “Flash… has his duty,” she replied. “He’ll understand that I have mine.”

Blake and Rainbow shared a glance.

“Okay then,” Rainbow said. “General Ironwood will have to approve your presence, and we can’t tell you what this is about until he does, but… welcome aboard, Weiss.”

Weiss ignored Rainbow’s outstretched hand, instead crossing the space between the two of them to throw her arms around the necks of Blake and Rainbow Dash.

“Thank you,” she whispered to them both. “Thank you so much.”

Because thanks to them, she would be free.

General Ironwood looked up from his scroll. “Weiss Schnee?”

Rainbow stood at ease in front of the General’s desk. She sneaked a glance at Major Winter Schnee, from where she stood at General Ironwood’s right hand. Her expression was… hard to read. Rainbow looked back at the General himself. “And Specialist Ciel Soleil, sir.”

“Soleil is granted, I already told you that, although I’m glad you have reasons beyond the fact that you know her,” General Ironwood replied, the words galloping out of his mouth as though he was eager to move on. “But Weiss Schnee? Explain.”

“Sir, the only reason that Weiss isn’t a huntress is that she chose Beacon instead of Atlas,” Rainbow said, looking over General Ironwood’s head, about a foot over it, to a point on or just outside the window. “If she had been an Atlas student like me – or even someone who wanted to become an Atlas student like Blake – she’d have been graduated, the same as me, same as Applejack, same as Blake, same as Starlight, same as-”

“You don’t have to name every student to have been graduated early, Dash,” General Ironwood informed her. “Your point is taken.”

“Is it well made as well, sir?” Rainbow asked.

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. “To a point,” he conceded. “Although her misfortune does not prove that she has the skills to become a huntress.”

“Perhaps not, sir,” Winter interceded. “But I’m prepared to vouch for Weiss upon that point.”

General Ironwood shifted a little in his seat as he looked up at her. “You are prepared to vouch for her?”

“I know that I might seem biased in her favour,” Winter allowed. “But I hope you can grant me the respect of a professional opinion on this, sir.”

General Ironwood hesitated for half a second before he nodded. “Very well, what is your professional opinion, Major?”

“That she has the potential to be stronger than I am, sir.”

Rainbow saw her own surprise mirrored on General Ironwood’s face. “Is that so? But you say potential. You mean she’s not there yet.”

“She hasn’t surpassed me yet, sir,” Winter clarified. “She’s already a highly capable fighter.”

General Ironwood looked back at Rainbow. “Is that your opinion too, Dash?”

“I… admit that I haven’t fought beside her too often, sir,” Rainbow admitted. “But the times I have fought with her, she’s more than pulled her weight. At Beacon she was considered one of the strongest. And, well, the Schnee semblance gives her a lot of tricks.”

“Indeed,” General Ironwood murmured. “But leaving aside her individual prowess, do you think that she compliments the other members of your team?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “Applejack and I are both stand-up fighters; Blake can do that too, but she can also fulfil a recon role. Ciel can provide long-range cover. Weiss can fight, but she can also provide support with… with her semblance, again. There’s nobody else I can think of who can do that quite like she can.”

“You don’t seem to have been able to think of many people,” General Ironwood observed. “This is a short list.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there really no one else?” General Ironwood asked.

“We considered Starlight Glimmer and Team Tsunami, sir,” Rainbow replied. “But I think we both know why that isn’t a good idea.”

General Ironwood looked into Rainbow’s eyes. “Have you spoken to Glimmer?”

“She… dropped a hint, sir, to Twilight, at Mountain Glenn.”

“What kind of hint?”

“Winter Maiden, sir,” Rainbow said.

General Ironwood’s eyes didn’t leave Rainbow. “The Winter Maiden is classified, Dash,” he said. “Glimmer should have remembered that.”

“I don’t have any details, sir.”

“Good,” General Ironwood said. “And you haven’t shared any details with her without my authorisation.”

“No sir.”

“Also good,” General Ironwood said. “That being said, you’re correct in the case of Glimmer, and it would damage the efficiency of that team to make any more personnel changes. As for Weiss Schnee… do you think that she can be trusted to follow orders?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. She swallowed. “I think Pyrrha can be trusted, too.”

General Ironwood frowned. “Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said. “I’d like to… I’d like to come clean with her.”

General Ironwood inhaled deeply. “No,” he said.

“Sir, I think that she’ll understand,” Rainbow protested. “She knows what’s at stake, she knows what’s really going on-”

“I can’t take the risk, Dash,” General Ironwood responded. “What if she doesn’t understand, what if she turns you away, what then? I can’t take the risk because of what is at stake.”

“Sir,” Rainbow said, “Pyrrha is…” Rainbow struggled to find the words to describe exactly what Pyrrha was. The most sacrificing person I know who isn’t actively trying to get herself killed, was the honest answer, but hardly something she could say to the General. “She’s one of the most sacrificing people I know.”

General Ironwood’s expression fell. His mouth turned downwards, and his eyes softened. “I would have said the same about Ozpin,” he murmured. “In fact I would have gone further, he was – he is – the most sacrificing man I’ve ever met. And because he was so sacrificing he gave up his own life and handed Salem one of the four relics. We can’t let that happen again.”

“Sir-”

“Your request is denied, Dash,” General Ironwood said firmly. “I’m not asking you to like it, but your request is denied. Understood?”

Rainbow swallowed again. “Yes, sir.” One hundred percent by the book.

“As for Weiss Schnee,” General Ironwood said, returning to the topic at hand. “How do you think she’ll handle the news?”

“She knows that something is going on, sir,” Rainbow said. “She doesn’t know what, but she’s not stupid. She knows that something’s up, and she wants to do something about it.”

“And how would you get her father to approve you taking her away on a mission to Mistral?” General Ironwood asked.

“I was thinking about not telling him, sir,” Rainbow said.

Winter smiled. General Ironwood let out a slight chuckle.

“Honestly, Dash, I think that’s probably your best option. In fact it’s probably your only option.”

“I don’t see why I need her father’s permission like some old-fashioned boyfriend. He doesn’t own her, sir,” Rainbow declared.

“No,” Winter agreed, “he does not.”

“I see that I’m outnumbered by the two of you,” General Ironwood observed.

“We didn’t plan this, sir,” Winter assured him.

“I’ll take your word for that,” General Ironwood replied. He paused. “Very well. You can take Weiss Schnee, if you want to.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Dash,” Winter said. “And good luck.”

“With the mission, Major?” Rainbow asked.

“With getting Weiss away from our father.”

Author's Note

This chapter has the potential to confuse everybody, as it references things from the rewrite that I have written but not yet published; since the alternative was to postpone this chapter for another couple of weeks or so, I decided to trust you all to roll with it. Hopefully it isn't too jarring for you.

What Seems Right

What Seems Right

“You spoke to her?”

“Eventually, my lord,” Euryalus said in reply.

Turnus raised one eyebrow. “'Eventually'?”

Nisus sniffed. “She didn’t want to see us at first, my lord. Looked down her nose at us like we’d just crawled out of some haystack.”

“Don’t take it too personally,” Turnus advised them. “This is not Mistral; people here don’t keep retainers the way that we do. Principal Cinch might have been insulted that I sent a messenger instead of coming to her myself.”

“It was hard to tell, my lord; her face looked like she’d forgotten how to aught but sneer anyway,” Nisus said.

Turnus ignored that. “But you were admitted, eventually?”

“Yes, my lord, we got in to see her in the end,” Euryalus answered. “We presented your compliments and delivered your message.”

“And?” Turnus asked.

Euryalus reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “Here, my lord, the m’dam said to give you this.”

Turnus took a step closer, reaching out to pluck the paper from Euryalus’ unresisting hand. Written upon the paper, in letters that were perfectly formed in flawless handwriting, were the words Diogenes Club, 11.00 hours; tell the porter that you are there to see Juno.

Turnus read the note once more and then scrunched it up in his hand. “I see. Did Principal Cinch say anything to you besides what is written here?”

“No, my lord,” Euryalus said. “I doubt she wanted to waste words on the likes of us.”

“I see,” Turnus said softly. He smiled. “Good work, lads. Get yourselves down to the bar and tell them to put it on my tab.”

Euryalus grinned. “Much obliged, my lord.”

Turnus thought about last night as he finished getting dressed. The Diogenes was an exclusive club – in the old-fashioned sense of a place for like-minded individuals to associate, rather than the more modern usage of a nightclub – and although it seemed that he would be expected, he doubted that he would be allowed through the door if his dress was not up to standard, and so, he attired himself in a well-tailored suit of subdued grey, with a red tie being the only splash of colour visible.

Eleven-hundred hours. It was presently not quite nine in the morning. Two hours until his mission was complete… the first phase of his mission, at least. Principal Cinch might have instructions for him, depending on what Doctor Watts told her; he did not much care for the idea of being ordered about by a combat school commandant, but he would have little choice in the matter.

And even if he was fortunate enough to escape such a fate, he still had the public portion of his mission to complete: to meet with the Atlesian Council on behalf of Mistral.

He would much rather go home immediately, but that might lead to questions asked, and the answers might cause difficulties.

If Doctor Watts thought that Turnus was trying to expose him, then he would…

He could not take the risk. Just as he could not take the risk that General Ironwood might have assigned someone to follow him to his rendezvous with Principal Cinch. He could not afford those who had their hands around his neck to think that he was not being diligent in his service to them. If he allowed himself to be trailed by General Ironwood’s men, then that might be interpreted as collusion.

Of course, if he were followed sufficiently discreetly, then he would not care what was discovered… if he could rely on General Ironwood’s discretion.

There was a knock on the door. “My lord?” Murranus called from the other side.

“What is it?” Turnus called out in return.

“Your breakfast is here, my lord.”

Ah, something to distract him from his thoughts. “Send it in,” Turnus commanded.

Murranus opened the door, admitting a young girl carrying a laden tray in both hands.

“Your breakfast, sir,” she said, in a slight and slightly tremulous voice.

“Thank you,” Turnus said. “Put it over there.” He gestured to the table.

Turnus watched as the girl walked towards it. She was small and slight, with dark hair and hazel eyes. She was dressed in a white tunic that seemed to tie up on one side and grey pants that were fading and becoming worn out at the knees. Around her neck, suspended by lengths of dark wire or thread, she wore a yellow gemstone of a diamond cut, set in black metal.

“A pretty necklace, for a serving girl,” Turnus observed. “Where did you get it?”

The girl stopped, the tray shaking a little in her hands. “Ma… Madame gave it to me, sir.”

“A generous gift,” Turnus observed. “I do not reward my own people so lavishly.” He smiled. “Perhaps I should start, before they desert me.”

“I wouldn’t know, sir,” the girl whispered, and she deposited the tray down on the table. “Will there be anything else?”

Turnus sat down – the girl retreated before him – and examined the contents of the tray. The coffee was black inside the pot, the juice inside the glass was the right colour to be grapefruit, and when he lifted up the silver lid covering the tray, he found sausage, bacon, fried bread, fried eggs, mushrooms, tomato, and black pudding. Something stodgy to settle his stomach for the day ahead, just as he had requested.

“No, everything seems to be in order,” he said, reaching into one of the inside pockets of his jacket and producing a green low value lien card. He rose once more to his feet, proffering the card to the girl. “Thank you.”

The girl looked at the money as though it might bite her hand. “I can’t take that, sir.”

Turnus frowned. “What’s the matter? Have you never been tipped for your work before?”

“No, sir.”

Turnus’ frown deepened. He put the money card down on the table, and then took off his jacket, depositing it on the bed, where his weapons lay.

The girl’s eyes followed the jacket, but lingered upon the weapons.

Turnus chuckled. “My weapons intrigue you?” he asked.

The girl looked away. “No, sir, sorry sir.”

“It’s quite alright,” he assured her. He hesitated. “Your accent… are you from Mistral?”

The girl hesitated. “Yes, sir. From Suikazura.”

“I cannot say that I have ever been to Suikazura,” Turnus confessed. “How does a Mistralian girl come to be working in an Atlas hotel?”

The girl hesitated. “It… it is a long story, sir; I’m sure you’d find it very boring, and I’m not supposed to disturb the guests.”

“You are not disturbing me until I say that you are,” Turnus informed her. “What is your name, girl?”

Once more, she hesitated. “Sakuraso, sir.”

“And my name is Turnus Rutulus,” Turnus informed her. “And this,” he added, picking up his sword from off the bed, “is Eris.” The blade was long, three feet and doubled-edged, straight as an arrow until it tapered to the point. The guard was solid, and the hilt was fashioned like the stripes of a tiger, orange and black coiling up one another until they reached the tiger’s head pommel wrought of gold, with glistening rubies for the eyes.

Sakuraso’s own eyes were wide as Turnus held up the blade for her inspection. “Where did you get that?” she asked, forgetting to call him ‘sir’ in her eagerness.

“My father had it made for me, for my fifteenth birthday,” Turnus explained. “I had trained hard, mastered the blade, and earned a sword that I could truly call my own, fashioned by the finest smiths in Mistral.”

“You are from Mistral yourself, sir?”

“I am.”

“Is that… is that why the man at the door calls you ‘lord,’ sir?”

Turnus chuckled. “My man calls me lord because I am a lord, although you are correct that if I were not Mistralian, I would not be a lord.”

Sakuraso nodded. “Did your father give you that as well, my lord?” she asked, pointing tremulously to the spear on the bed.

“This? No, this was not from my father,” Turnus said, setting down Eris and taking up the spear, Furor. The spear looked large and heavy, less like a spear and more like the kind of missile that antique siege engines would have fired at city walls. The appearance was only somewhat deceptive: it was a large and heavy spear, but it had to be so because it split in two, becoming a pair of lighter, smaller javelins if need be. “This… how old are you, Sakuraso?”

“I’m ten, my lord.”

Possibly a little too young to tell you that I killed a man and took his weapon for myself. “This I took, because… because I wanted it.” He had killed its previous owner for the insult to Camilla’s honour, but he had taken the dead man’s weapon for no other reason than that he had always admired it. And it wasn’t as if its previous owner was going to need it any more.

Sakuraso nodded slowly. “I see, my lord.”

Turnus put Furor down in turn beside Eris. He crossed back to the table and once more picked up the lien card. “Take this.”

“I shouldn’t, my lord.”

Turnus knelt down in front of her, so that he was no longer looming over her. He used a touch of his semblance to make himself smaller still in her perception, so that they seemed even closer to equal. “Do you know what it means to be a lord of Mistral?” he asked.

Sakuraso shook her head.

“A good lord,” Turnus informed her, “rules his lands, commands his warriors, protects his people, and rewards those who serve him well. Take this, and shame on those who soak up service as their due.”

Sakuraso waited, gaze flickering between the lien and Turnus himself. Eventually, one thin hand reached out to snatch the card from between his fingers. It disappeared up Sakuraso’s sleeve in short order.

“There, you see?” Turnus said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He got to his feet and allowed himself to seem once more his usual height and build in her eyes. “That will be all for now, Sakuraso.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sakuraso said, bowing her head. She smiled, her hazel eyes glistening. “Thank you, my lord.”

Is this the first time anyone has rewarded her thus? Turnus wondered as she left the room quickly. He shook his head and smiled to himself as he realised that once again, he had shown himself to be quite inescapably Mistralian.

He pushed such thoughts aside as he began to eat his breakfast, getting out his scroll as he ate and perusing the news. It seemed that Mister Schnee was still lagging behind in the polls.

He ate and covered up the plate with the remains of his meal when he was finished. Doubtless, Sakuraso or someone like her would be along to collect it eventually.

She had not done so by the time that he was ready to leave for his appointment, but he was not concerned. She would come when he was out, was all.

Ufens opened the door and walked in unannounced. “Are you ready, my lord?”

“I am, thank you,” Turnus said. He was not wearing or carrying either of his weapons; they both lay on the bed where he had put them after showing them both to Sakuraso. Unlike Mistral, in Atlas, it was forbidden for any unlicensed persons to bear arms, and following his expulsion from the academy, Turnus had never bothered to obtain a huntsman license from anywhere else. In all honesty, he probably should have left both Eris and Furor back in Mistral, but he would have felt vulnerable without them at least somewhat nearby, even if he could not bear them in the streets. “Nisus and Euryalus understand their role in this?”

“They do, my lord,” Ufens replied.

Turnus smiled. “And their heads are not too sore after last night?”

Ufens chuckled. “I put a stop to it before it got that far, my lord, but you’d only have yourself to blame if I hadn’t, giving them free reign with your tab as you did.”

“A good lord must reward his faithful servants, Ufens, or they will not remain faithful,” Turnus replied.

Ufens didn’t reply to that, saying instead. “I wish you’d take Opis with you, my lord.”

“Why?” Turnus asked. Opis was a fine warrior, but so were others in his retinue here, and he was curious as to why Ufens had singled her out in particular.

Ufens shrugged. “You say you want to be discreet, my lord; a man your age, and a girl her age, nobody will look twice.”

“You recall that I’m engaged to be married, Ufens,” Turnus reminded him. “I seem to recall that I threw you all quite a lavish feast to celebrate the fact.”

“I recall you sat through it with a face more fitting for a funeral than an engagement party, my lord.”

“I didn’t feel like celebrating,” Turnus admitted; he had only thrown the feast – and only for his retainers, inviting no guests to join them – because it was expected of a man in his position. As he had said, a lord had to reward his faithful servants, and that included throwing them a party from time to time. “But that has nothing to do with my feelings towards Camilla.”

Ufens chuckled. “Nobody doubts that, my lord, but it’s just a harmless ruse if you were to-”

“I will take Lausus,” Turnus said, in a firm tone signifying that the matter was closed. “The way he dresses, people will think we are friends, not lord and retainer.”

“The way he dresses, my lord, you’ll have a hard time being inconspicuous,” Ufens muttered.

“That’s what Nisus and Euryalus are there for,” Turnus said.

Ufens bowed his head. “As you say, my lord.”

“Keep the rest of the men in good order while I’m gone,” Turnus said. “And someone should be along at some point to collect the dishes and empty the bin.”

“I’ll make sure they’re admitted, my lord.”

“Thank you, Ufens,” Turnus said. He took a deep breath. “Now, with good fortune, all shall be well.”

Shortly thereafter, he left his room and descended into the lobby, where Lausus was waiting for him between the two crystalline ursa statues which loomed over the open space.

Lausus Rasna was the scion of a good family; not so old or proud as the houses of Nikos, Thrax, or Rutulus, nevertheless, the Rasnans were a good family of good lineage, on a par with families like Kommenos or Vasilias. Turnus could still remember when he and Lausus had been friends, when Lausus’ father had been Turnus’ father’s chief supporter on the Council, and he and Lausus had trained in arms together.

Then the family had fallen on hard times. Turnus had lost his father, but at least the fortunes of the Rutulus family had remained intact; he had yet been able to keep his sister in the manner to which she had become accustomed. Lausus’ father, Mezentius, yet lived, but not long after the murder of Daunus Rutulus, Mezentius had been accused of embezzling public funds. Out of affection, in his father’s memory, and feeling that it was not meet a man of good family, who had lately been so exalted and so honoured, should suffer to be bound in prison over a mere question of money, Turnus had helped to keep Mezentius out of prison, but the Rasna family had been ruined financially and socially. Now, Lausus served him, who had once almost been his equal.

He was a man of about Turnus’ own age, tall and lithe but with a wiry strength visible in his arms. His hair was blond and long and fell on either side of his thin, handsome, almost pretty features. He looked almost like an alabaster statue, with a pair of gleaming sapphires for his eyes, and more than one woman in the lobby was sneaking discreet or not so discreet glances in his direction. He was dressed in a tunic of spun gold, woven by his mother’s own hand, and blood red trousers with silver buttons running down the sides, disappearing into a pair of polished black boots. Around his neck, he wore a golden torque in the shape of a serpent eating its own tail, and a gold band around one wrist. Since, unlike Turnus, Lausus had graduated from Haven Academy and was thus a qualified huntsman, he had a round shield slung across his back, and his spear, compacted for greater ease of movement, wedged between his shield and his back.

“I see that you understand the importance of discretion,” Turnus said, as he joined him in the lobby.

Lausus chuckled. “Would my lord have me dress in black and cover my face up? What could be more discreet than a man of wealth and taste flaunting both for all to see?”

“Wealth?”

“Well, these people don’t know my family history, do they?” Lausus muttered. “How are they to know the difference?” He chuckled again. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Turnus said. “Let’s go.”

Aska lurked on the roof of one of the buildings across the street from the hotel.

This was nobody’s command; General Ironwood had not ordered her to do it, Lady Nikos certainly had not. This was something that she had chosen to do for herself.

Turnus was here. He had preceded them here and passed some word of Chrysalis onto General Ironwood before them. She wanted to know what he was doing, what Chrysalis and Doctor Watts had set him to doing.

It was hard to tell, but she thought that someone else was watching the hotel too, someone down below in a car. Perhaps one of General Ironwood’s men, although she did not recognise them – distance and unfamiliarity combined.

Regardless, she was more skilled in stealth than anyone at the disposal of her – of General Ironwood. She was a ninja of the Koryu clan, the shadows were her realm and birthright.

As she lurked, hidden in shadow, everything revealed to her from her vantage point above, Aska saw Turnus Rutulus emerge from out of the hotel, accompanied by a warrior about his age in a very bright gold tunic. They were careless, heedless of pursuit, not even checking to see if they were being followed as they set off down the street.

Perfect. She would pursue them unnoticed, learn their destination and-

Aska felt something prick at the back of her neck; something sharp.

“That’s enough, girl,” the voice was hoarse, and middle-aged at least. “Get your hands where we can see them.”

Aska closed her eyes for a moment. The heir to the Koryu clan, outfoxed and ambushed.

Some ninja.

She held out her hands. “It is illegal to carry weapons in Atlas without a license.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” the voice that answered her now was younger. “We’ll be sure not to get caught.”

Aska’s eyes followed after Turnus and his gilded companion. They were moving further away now. If she remained as she was, then they would be out of sight. In fact, they would very soon be out of sight; Turnus’ retainer was hailing a cab. He wasn’t doing it particularly well – he wasn’t standing close enough to the curb – but that would only buy her a few extra moments. A taxi would pick them soon, and she would need to be following them then if she didn’t want to lose them.

“Pull her back,” the older man said.

Someone – the younger man, presumably; Aska had assumed that he who had spoken first had the weapon to her neck, but if so, he would hardly have needed to direct himself – grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and hauled her back away from the edge of the roof. Out of the corner of her eye, Aska could see the older man covering her with a rifle – a long-range rifle with a scope, a poor fit for a situation like this one.

And she felt where the man holding her was.

She raised her elbow and slammed it back into the face of he who restrained her, forcing him to release her with a cry of pain as she struck him in the nose. As his hands left her, Aska started for the edge of the roof. It was risky, but she would have to leap if she was to evade these two and trust that Turnus would not notice her until she found new cover.

Her feet carried her the distance.

The old man’s rifle cracked, the bullet striking Aska in the side and knocking her off her feet. A hunting rifle, clearly, heavy calibre, and her aura was feeling all of it. She tried to rise, still reaching for the edge of the roof, but the rifle barked again, and Aska was hurled onto her back, groaning in pain. The young man had a spear in his hand, and he bore down upon her, thrusting his weapon towards her breast. Aska rolled out of the way, and as the spear struck the stone slab where she had been lying, she lashed out with both legs to cut his legs from under him and dump him down on the rooftop.

Aska leapt to her feet, and in one fluid motion, she drew her sword across her back. The old man fired again, but this time, Aska had her blade, the heirloom of her line, in her hand, and with a deft slash, she deflected the shot away.

However, she had been forced back. Both her enemies were now between her and the edge of the roof.

The young man got to his feet. The old man kept his rifle trained on her.

Aska twirled her blade, one in her hand, the curved sword forming a silver circle in the air.

The young man slung a rectangular tower shield from across his back, holding his spear now with one hand.

Aska’s gaze flickered between the two of them.

The young one let out a loud yell as he cast his spear towards her. Aska’s sword lashed out to deflect the spear, which clattered to the ground beside her. The old man fired, but this time, Aska was able to dance nimbly to avoid the round, but in doing so, between deflecting spear and dodging shot, she had left herself off-balance as the young man charged for her. He drew a short sword as he rushed forwards, shield before him, bodily slamming into her and knocking her to the ground. He slammed his shield down onto her face, even as he knelt down, slashing at her with his sword.

Aska grabbed his sword arm with one hand and his neck by the other, bodily throwing him over her and sending him flying, rolling across the roof towards the back of the building. She leapt up, pausing only to retrieve her sword, running-

The older man tackled her from the side, grabbing her, bearing her sideways into the high stone that separated the building on which they stood and fought from that beside it. Aska’s aura flared, sending a jolt of pain through her back, even as the old man stabbed at her gut with his own short blade, his hand moving in a frenzy of blows, one after the other, ripping through her aura as he stabbed again and again and again.

Aska thrust her head forward, slamming it into that of her attacker like a woodpecker attacking a tree trunk, and when he recoiled, she broke away, and this time – this time, she made it.

She reached the edge of the roof and leapt off, arms spread out on either side of her as she fell. She seemed, at least to herself, to fall slowly, with the grace of a leaf dropping from the tree to land upon the ground below. She descended, head first, the air passing by her so slowly that she might have been flying instead of falling. It was as though she could make out every detail of the building she passed by, see everyone on the other side of the windows, pick out everything within the rooms she fell past.

And yet, she was aware, and became increasingly aware, that she was not flying but falling, and so, as she reached the ground, she twisted in mid-air so that she landed feet-first, not head-first.

She still made quite a sight, however, as evinced by the ways in which people backed away from her as she dropped from the sky, murmuring in alarm and confusion.

Aska sheathed her sword. She was a licensed huntress, but she wanted to avoid having to explain that to the police if possible.

She looked up. No one was shooting at her from above; her enemies, the Rutulian men – she had no doubt that was who they were – were doubtless even less keen on attracting attention than she was.

However, they had done their work: there was no sign of Turnus or his companion.

Nor, Aska noticed, as she moved briskly down the street in search of both new cover and any trace of where her quarry had gone, was there any sign of the car which she had spotted earlier.

Flash kept his scroll out as Turnus and his friend in the gold tunic left the hotel. It was important that he looked like he was still messing around on his scroll in the car, even when his focus was elsewhere.

After all, he didn’t want anyone to know that his focus was elsewhere.

He wasn’t an expert at pretending to look at something other than the thing he was looking at, and he was sure that if she’d been here, then the Lieutenant would have had a few pointers about his technique – a frown creased Flash’s face, as he wondered how Lieutenant Martinez and her kids were doing back in Vale; what with his injury and the fact that he’d been kind of out of it when they brought him home, he didn’t even know for sure that they’d survived – but he hoped that it would be good enough to fool anyone who might take an interest in him and his activities.

And so, with his scroll out and his attention sometimes maybe seeming to be fixed upon it, Flash watched as Turnus and his armed friend – hopefully, he had a license – walked away from the hotel and tried to hail a cab.

Their technique was poor; everyone knew that to hail a taxi in Atlas, you had to get out into the road and risk being hit by a car, but eventually, the guy in the gold tunic understood to get closer to the edge of the curb, at least, and a white taxi pulled up to collect them.

Flash put his scroll away as the two of them got in, switching his car into drive and resting his foot gently on the accelerator.

Then, as the cab pulled off, he began to follow.

The taxi driver was a walrus faunus, a heavy-set man in middle age, with a pair of tusks descending from out of his mouth, wearing a red shirt with a dull-yellow leaf pattern.

“Where to?” he asked over the sound of the radio.

“The Diogenes Club,” Turnus said as Lausus got in beside him and closed the door.

“Right,” the driver said in a dull voice as he began to pull away, the vehicle carrying Turnus and Lausus down the roads of Atlas towards their destination.

The radio was on very loudly, the voices of two men filling the taxi.

“We just received the results of round one,” said one man, with a deep voice.

“And we passed!” cried the other, his voice higher-pitched and more enthusiastic.

“Of course we passed; anyone can pass round one, even amateurs could pass round one!”

“But last year, we were eliminated in round two,” pointed out the higher-pitched voice.

“And it was a scandal! An absolute disgrace! Ten years in the business, and we were subjected to that! Just thinking about it-”

“Now, now, calm down-”

“I smell collusion! Let’s start with why we’re being judged by guys who are less funny than we are-”

“So, anyway,” the higher pitched voice cried hurriedly. “We got some fan mail! Ahem. ‘Hello. I went to see you in the first round. Simply put, your jokes aren’t funny. It took you one whole minute to make your first joke, and then you failed to follow up on it while making the same jokes over and over again-”

“Who the hell is this guy?”

“Moving on!”

“Can you turn that off?” Turnus asked, raising his voice over the radio.

The driver complied at once. “That channel is an acquired taste,” he said, in a quiet voice.

“Indeed,” Turnus murmured, leaning back in his seat.

In the rear-view mirror, Turnus’ could see the driver’s eyes watching them. “So, you with the weapons, are you a huntsman?”

“Sure,” Lausus replied.

“Good,” the driver said. “Because I don’t need any more trouble right now.” He offered no further clue as to what he meant by that.

Lausus glanced at Turnus, who said nothing. It was very unlikely that whatever trouble this fellow was in would impact them in the short time they would spend in his company.

The cab continued to drive along, silently now. Turnus looked straight ahead, gazing at nothing, his mind full of scenarios of how this meeting would go.

Lausus looked out of the window for a while, gazing up at all the marvels of Atlas that loomed around them, until he turned to Turnus and said, “Ufens said he’d rather you had Opis with you, my lord?”

“Indeed,” Turnus replied. “He thought she’d be less conspicuous.”

Lausus grinned. “Well, thank you for bringing me along instead, my lord.”

“It’s nothing,” Turnus said. “Ufens’ notion of inconspicuous was that Opis and I should pretend to be an item.”

Lausus snorted. “It’s a harmless deception.”

“So I’ve been told,” Turnus said sharply. “But I won’t treat Camilla that way.”

Lausus covered his mouth with one hand as he laughed.

Turnus’ eyes narrowed. “What?” he demanded.

Lausus paused for a moment. “As your retainer, I probably shouldn’t say this,” he said, “but as an old friend, can I just say that the amount of care you show to her, the amount of respect you have for her, the way that you treat her… how in the name of all the gods did it take you so long to realise how you felt about Camilla?”

Turnus’ stare verged upon a glare. For a moment, at least; the fire in his eyes died out quite quickly. “I was… I thought…” He sighed. “I have no answers to give you, because I have no answers for myself. But, in my defence, it was not as though Camilla made her own feelings clear.”

“That is a matter of opinion, my lord.”

Turnus blinked. “You knew?”

“Everyone knew,” Lausus said. “It was only you that didn’t.”

“And yet none of you said anything?”

“It wasn’t our place to say, my lord,” Lausus said. “And Camilla might not have appreciated it.” He paused. “Although, I have to say, I do wish that you’d come to your senses sooner. I’d have been able to make a move on Pyrrha Nikos myself without having to worry about your reaction to me poaching on your estate.”

“You?” Turnus said. “You would have sought Pyrrha’s hand?”

“I must make a good marriage of some sort,” Lausus reminded him. “I don’t have the luxury of marrying my penniless faunus best friend because I have ample wealth to support her. I need a wife who can support me as the first step to restoring the fortunes of my house. And she’s not only rich but impeccably well-born and as great a beauty as was ever born in Mistral besides.”

“All excellent arguments why she would make a good match for you,” Turnus said dryly. “I’m not sure Lady Nikos would have seen the advantages on her side. Not that it matters; Pyrrha has made it plain that she doesn’t care for advantage in her marriage.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, you see, I’m just her type,” Lausus declared. “All I needed was the chance to get in first, my lord.”

“You are her type?”

Lausus grinned. “Pretty blond boys with no brains,” he declared.

Turnus snorted and tried very hard to prevent that snort from developing into anything less dignified. “I’m not sure that things would have gone as smoothly as you hope.”

“Love rarely does,” the driver said.

Turnus’ eyebrows rose. “Are you a philosopher, driver?”

“I’m a taxi driver,” the driver said, as though it was a response. He pulled over. “Here we are.”

Turnus paid him, with a generous tip on top of his fee, before the two of them got out of the taxi, which drove off as soon as they shut the door after themselves.

The Diogenes Club, outside of which they had been deposited, was a typically Atlesian construct of glass and steel, although the glass was tinted to prevent anyone from seeing inside, and before the building itself, at the top of the stone steps that led up to it, glass columns had been raised supporting a portico, lending the place the slight look of a Mistralian temple. Or an Atlesian parody of the same.

Regardless, it was their destination, and Turnus began to climb the steps towards it.

“My lord,” Lausus said. “One moment, if you will?”

Turnus turned back to look at him. “What is it?”

“Something else that it might not be my place to say, not even as your one-time friend,” Lausus said.

“Then perhaps you had better not say it,” Turnus suggested.

Lausus winced. “The only man who did not enjoy your engagement feast was you, my lord; we all rejoiced, and not only in the generosity of your food and your wine, but in your good fortune, also. There is not a man in the company who does not hold you in esteem and not a man who does not love Camilla as kin to them. Our fortunes are bound up with those of your house not only by oaths of faithfulness but by bonds of great affection. If a shadow has fallen on the Rutulus family, then we, your men, will do all we can to shine a light upon it if only you will give the word.”

“Lausus-”

“We are not blind, my lord,” Lausus declared. “We noticed that you and Camilla were the only two who did not smile at a feast in celebration of your own engagement; we noticed that we have seen Juturna less and less of late, and we have noticed that all of this happened as your Atlesian guests arrived for a brief season and then stole away abruptly in the night. Not all in Rutulian Security are as brainless as I am. Some can put two and two together and make cause and effect.” Lausus paused. “We are your men, my lord. Whatever befalls you, we would face it with you, if you will but trust us.”

“I dare not-”

“My lord-”

“Yet,” Turnus said. “Believe me, there will be a time for swords, there will be a time when I will need you, and every Rutulian weapon that can be brought to bear against our enemies, but that time is not yet. I dare not.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “If you love me, you will bear the word back to your fellows that they must do nothing with their suspicions, do nothing at all until I give the word. You must do as I do and be as compliant as the grass for a little while… even if it means we will be stepped on.”

Lausus said, “Then you do have enemies, my lord?”

Turnus nodded. “And one day, they shall regret that they did not beware of me,” he said. “But that day is not yet come. Today… today we should not keep our host waiting.”

Flash had watched the taxi drop Turnus and the other guy off outside the Diogenes Club, but rather than risk making it obvious that he had been tailing them, he decided to circle around the block first before pulling up.

As a result, he pulled up just in time to see the two of them disappearing inside the club.

He couldn’t have followed them inside in any case; it was a private club, and he wasn’t a member, nor did he know a member who could invite him in as their guest.

He got out his scroll and called General Ironwood, voice only. “Sir, it’s me; um, Lieutenant Flash Sentry, sir.”

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I think Turnus Rutulus is meeting someone, sir,” Flash said. “He’s just gone inside a private club, the Diogenes; I doubt he’s a member.”

“No, you’re right; his contact will have chosen the location. Was he with anyone?”

“One man, sir, armed, probably one of his men. Sir, do you think Chrysalis could be impersonating a club member?”

General Ironwood was silent on the other end of the line for a few moments. “Unlikely,” he said. “Stay on station, Flash, and don’t leave when Turnus does. Instead, I want you to keep watching the club and make a note of who comes in and out for the rest of the day. It will give us a short list of who he was meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man at the door of the Diogenes Club had broad shoulders, a martial bearing, and white hair that was losing its battle to cover up his entire head. Turnus guessed that he had been a soldier and now was supplementing his income in retirement with this light work.

As Turnus and Lausus approached, the fellow stepped forward and said, “Good morning, sir; may I have your name, please?”

“Good morning,” Turnus said. “I’m told that Juno is expecting me.”

The doorman blinked. “Of course, sir. You’ve already been signed in as a guest in the daybook. If you’ll please follow me.”

“Is there anywhere my man can wait until my business is concluded?” Turnus asked.

“I’ll have a steward show him to the Attendants’ Waiting Room and get him settled, sir,” the man said, clicking his fingers and gesturing for a passing steward in a waistcoat and bow tie to walk quickly towards them. “Take this man to the Attendants’ Room and see him provided for.”

“My lord?” Lausus asked.

“Go, I’ll be fine,” Turnus replied, and as Lausus departed with the steward, so too did Turnus follow the doorman into the club. They passed through a common room filled with large, old-fashioned, comfortable-looking armchairs where ladies and gentlemen sat sipping and tea and nibbling on pastries and biscuits, while the hum of casual conversation filled the air.

The doorman brought Turnus to a private room, a small room, very narrow, with two of the armchairs that were found in the common room, and a small round table set between them. In one armchair, facing the door, sat a woman in her late middle years, with a sharp, angular face and half-moon spectacles perched upon her nose. Her hair was an array of streaks of purple, pink, and cerise, and bound up in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in blue, all save for an amber broach she wore at her collar.

“Your guest, ma’am,” the doorman said.

“Thank you,” she said, in a voice without emotion. “See that we’re not disturbed.”

“Of course, ma’am,” the doorman said, and shut the door behind Turnus.

“Principal Cinch, I presume,” Turnus said.

“Turnus Rutulus?” Principal Cinch asked, stapling her fingers together. “Or do I have the dubious privilege of addressing yet another of your lackeys?”

Turnus placed one hand upon the armchair. “My retainers are men of quality and courage.”

“Qualities which I’m sure make them very useful upon the battlefield, but the fact remains,” Principal Cinch said, “I’m not in the habit of being approached by servants.”

Turnus paused for a moment. “Forgive me, ma’am; it was necessary. I could not risk contacting you until you understand the importance of keeping this matter between ourselves.”

“I still do not know that I understand,” Principal Cinch replied. “But I am willing to extend you this courtesy, even though you were not. Please, sit down.”

Turnus sat.

“Would you like some tea?” Principal Cinch asked. “Coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Turnus replied.

“You should,” Principal Cinch admonished him. “It’s really very good tea.”

“Nevertheless, ma’am,” Turnus said.

Principal Cinch regarded him over the top of her spectacles. “I have done my research on you, Lord Rutulus. Head of a very wealthy and powerful family in Mistral, you were expelled from Atlas Academy but didn’t let that stop you from taking a job with the SDC security division. That is, until the tragic death of your father, at which point, you returned to Mistral, presumably to take over management of the family estate… and to found a private security company operating across Anima.”

“If you know about my father’s death, then you will know that I had good reason to think that the kingdom needed an alternative to the Imperial Constabulary,” Turnus said.

“And now you are back in Atlas as an official representative of the Kingdom of Mistral,” Principal Cinch continued. “How does it feel?”

“Does it matter?” Turnus asked.

“It is a harmless question, is it not?” Principal Cinch replied.

“I am no longer sure that there is such a thing as a harmless question,” Turnus said. “You will forgive me, ma’am, but I did not ask to see you for the pleasure of your company, charming company though I am sure it is.”

Principal Cinch’s face was expressionless. “I had assumed that you had asked to see me because you had done your research as I have done mine, and you know that I have the ear of Jacques Schnee, who will shortly become Atlas’ newest Councillor.”

“It was always my impression that Mister Schnee had a mind of his own,” Turnus said carefully. “And a keen one too.”

“Of course, Jacques is a titan of industry, a man of true vision,” Principal Cinch said smoothly. “But he is politically inexperienced, as even he would confess; he relies upon those of us with more skill and experience in this particular arena to support him, to guide him through these difficult waters.”

“And yet, ma’am, you cannot guide him to a commanding lead in the polls,” Turnus pointed out. “Or any lead at all. I daresay that Mister Schnee deserves to lead this kingdom – as you say, he is a man of vision, a man who can make decisions unclouded by his emotions – but I must confess that if I were here solely upon the business of Mistral, I might fear to be associated with you.”

Principal Cinch’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here, Lord Rutulus?”

Turnus leaned forward. “How well do you know a Doctor Arthur Watts, ma’am?” Are you his puppet, as I am, or shall I kill you once I am done with him?

Principal Cinch was quite expressionless and quite, quite silent. “You… you know Arthur?”

“The good doctor and I are acquainted,” Turnus growled. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a data stick. “He asked me to give this to you. I have not read the contents.” He tossed it down on the table in front of her.

Principal Cinch did not immediately pick it up. “I… see. Thank you, Lord Rutulus.” She did not seem particularly grateful as she gingerly picked up the stick as though it might bite, before slipping it securely into her purse. “I shall study this carefully, although you will forgive me if I do so in the privacy of my own home.”

“That would be very wise of you,” Turnus said. “You did not answer my question, ma’am. How well do you know Doctor Watts?”

“I am not sure that anyone can truly say they know Arthur,” Principal Cinch said. “But I believe he is a useful friend to have, and a friend who shares my… disquiet with the situation here in Atlas.”

Not a puppet, then, but a pawn perhaps. “If you will permit me to give you some advice, ma’am; Doctor Watts' friendship comes at a price. And he reveals that price at a moment of his own convenience, not yours.”

Principal Cinch took a moment to reply. “What do you think of this kingdom, Lord Rutulus? Please, give me your honest opinion.”

Turnus, too, considered for a moment. “Whatever I say as an outsider, I think you will counter with a diagnosis of your own weakness.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I know what I would say if we were in the parlour of my house in Mistral with you as my guest,” Turnus said. Or what I would have said, at least, before such things seemed of far less import to me than they do now.

Principal Cinch smiled thinly. “There is a battle raging, Lord Rutulus, a battle for the soul of Atlas itself, a battle which will decide whether or not this kingdom remains strong, powerful, feared… or whether it will decline into relentless mediocrity, undone by decadent degeneracy, by naïveté and weakness masquerading as virtue.”

“You speak of strength and power, ma’am, but your campaign – Mister Schnee’s campaign – seems to have descended into retail politics,” Turnus observed. “And even that has not reversed its fortunes.”

“It is a pity that one must pander to the rabble in order to gain power,” Principal Cinch agreed. “But make no mistake, Lord Rutulus, Jacques Schnee will win that Council seat; I intend to make sure of it. Watch the polls, watch the news, and watch as Jacques’ fortunes are transformed by a political miracle. And then, once Jacques Schnee is safely installed on the Council, well… all those who soaked up his promises of welfare and maintenance on the public expense will get precisely what they deserve.”

“You would betray all those who carry you into office?” Turnus asked, unable to keep the distaste out of his voice. He did not believe in democracy – he held no brief to defend its virtue as a system or its integrity – but he did believe in honour; once you made a pact with the people and they did you the service of voting you into power, he could not but feel there was some moral obligation incumbent on you to follow through on your promises.

“I would do what is right for Atlas,” Principal Cinch replied. “What should I do instead?”

What is right for Atlas or what is right for yourself? Turnus thought. He knew how easy it was to confuse the two. “If you are so confident of victory, ma’am, then may I ask what place Mistral might have in the world you would fashion?”

“Why don’t we wait,” Principal Cinch said, “and see what Arthur has to say, before we jump to any conclusions?” She got to her feet. “Was there anything else, Lord Rutulus? And is there any way that I can reach you?”

“If you have a discreet man of your own at your beck and call, then messages to the Glass Unicorn will find me,” Turnus replied.

“Good,” Principal Cinch said. “Because you know, once I’ve seen what is on this message, I may well need to speak with you again.”

“I hope you do, ma’am,” Turnus lied.

“Did anything happen while I was away?” Turnus asked as he returned to his room.

“Nisus and Euryalus caught someone spying on the hotel, my lord,” Ufens informed him. “Might be that she’d have tried to follow you.”

“She?”

“A girl. A ninja, by the look of it.”

Turnus looked at him. “A ninja?”

“That’s what they said, my lord.”

“What happened?”

“They fought,” Ufens said. “The girl got away from them, but not before you’d gotten away from her.”

“More excellent work from both of them, then,” Turnus said.

Ufens snorted. “Another night at the bar, my lord?”

“I think so,” Turnus said, “but not yet; it’s a little early. Anything else that I should know about?”

“We caught the little brat trying to steal Furor, my lord,” Ufens said.

“The little-” Turnus stopped. “You mean Sakuraso?”

“The serving girl, my girl,” Ufens said. “Murranus recognised her, said she brought you breakfast.”

“Sakuraso, then,” Turnus said. “She tried to steal Furor?”

Ufens nodded. “Murranus heard a noise inside your room when you were out, went inside, and found the girl; she’d climbed in through the air vent and was trying to get your spear out the same way.”

Turnus frowned. “What did you do with her?”

“Turned her over to the Madame,” Ufens said. “Most likely, she’s been tossed out onto the street by now.”

Turnus’ frown deepened. “I want to see her.”

“The madame?”

“The girl,” Turnus clarified. “Although the Madame will know where she is, if anyone does.”

“Nothing was stolen, my lord; we checked,” Ufens said. “It hardly seems something to worry yourself about.”

“I’m not concerned with what was or wasn’t stolen,” Turnus explained. “I’m concerned with why she tried to steal it.” She had been interested in the weapons, to be sure, but what was she planning to do with them, at her age and in Atlas?

Perhaps she just wanted it, the way that you wanted it. Now wouldn’t that be ironic?

Turnus tried to ignore the thought as he walked out of his room and back out onto the balcony, leaning on the rails a little as he looked down upon the lobby beneath. There was no sign of the Madame there.

Turnus led the way down to the lobby, with Ufens following behind them. They approached the counter, where Turnus placed his hands upon the wooden surface as he waited.

And then he heard a scream of pain, a young girl’s cry, a cry that reminded him of the nightmares that had plagued Camilla when she’d first come to live with them.

It was coming from the back room, down a dark corridor behind the counter.

Though no one else in the hotel seemed to react, Turnus started to run.

He was unarmed, but he plunged down the dark corridor regardless, leaving Ufens to follow after him, until he emerged into a large, shadowy store room, lit by small, high windows set near the ceiling, where boxes were piled high and bags of sundry things sat upon shelves. A room of pipes and boilers and furniture covered up by sheets as though there had been a death in the family.

In one corner of this room, a little den had been established, a sleeping bag and a couple of pillows, and it was to this little den that Sakuraso had retreated, and now cowered before the Madame of the hotel. She was the one who was crying out in pain as lightning rippled up and down her body from the necklace, no, the collar that she wore.

The Madame had some sort of switch in her hand, and she was pressing it, and as she pressed it, Sakuraso convulsed, twitched and writhed and screamed as the lightning devoured her.

“What were they going to do with her, Father?”

“Sell her. There is a thriving trade in child slaves, for reasons I don’t fully understand and almost do not wish to. All I understand is that we sell our children to torment in foreign lands for a few lien a piece. It shames our whole kingdom, or ought to. If I could only do one thing in my life, I should like to stamp out this foul practice.

“STOP!” Turnus thundered, and the Madame did stop; she turned towards him, and as she looked at him, Turnus used his semblance to swell up in size, to broaden his shoulders, to become as large as the room itself until he seemed to tower over her, his size and strength making her seem insignificant by comparison.

He advanced upon her, and she retreated before him. The switch that controlled the collar tumbled from her hand, and Turnus shattered it and ground it to pieces beneath his booth.

He looked at Sakuraso. She had stopped crying now; instead, she whimpered, curled up in a heap on her sleeping bag, her body yet trembling.

Turnus returned his attention to the Madame. She was an older woman, her blonde hair turning to grey, her face becoming lined with wrinkles. Somehow, he did not think that Sakuraso was the first. How many children had passed through here, how many had she abused in this way, and what had become of them in the end?

Did the law of Atlas tolerate such things? Was this the kingdom that he had admired? Was this what he had sought to emulate: the market for the barbarous trade that his father had worked to eradicate?

He felt disgusted, with Atlas, with the woman before him… and with himself.

No one else had come, he realised. No one else had run here, though they had heard the cries. Nobody else had cared.

Mistral… Mistral had its faults, gods knew, but at least in Mistral, they were not automatons that they could ignore the crying of a child. In Mistral, people would have come.

Damn this kingdom. I should have seen it long ago.

He could not change Atlas. He could not even save Mistral. But perhaps… perhaps he could save Sakuraso.

He stared down at the woman before him. He wanted to kill her; he had killed for less than this, gods knew, but only warriors, armed and with their auras activated. He had never killed a defenceless commoner before, and however much she might deserve it, he wasn’t sure that she wanted to start now.

Nor was he sure that he wished to trust the Atlesian police. Experience had taught him against such things. And after all, things had carried on this long, had they not, with no legal penalties incurred? That strongly suggested to him that there were no legal penalties.

“How do you remember all these laws, Father? There are so many of them.”

His Father laughed at that. “Remember them? I don’t even try.”

“But then how-?”

“I do what seems to be the right thing at the time, son, and I worry about the law later.”

Thank you, Father. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long.

“How much?” Turnus growled.

“How much?” the Madame repeated. “How much for what?”

“For the girl!” Turnus declared fiercely.

“I don’t-”

“You understand me perfectly, Madame,” Turnus insisted, taking another step towards her. “You have acquired this girl, from Mistral, and you have used her and abused her, and it stops now. I am a reasonable man; I understand that I am in a foreign land and foreign customs may apply. Which is why I will overlook how heinous I find your offence and give you eight thousand lien, and you will give the girl into my charge, and you will never touch her again. Do I make myself clear?”

The Madame whimpered but nodded her head.

“Good,” Turnus said. “I will be along at the counter shortly to settle with you, not only this payment but all of my outstanding debts. I will be taking my leave of this place earlier than I had expected. Ufens!”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Tell the men to pack up. We’ll be bunking aboard the Jade Princess for the rest of our stay here.” He paused. Of course, he had just told Principal Cinch to contact him here. “Lausus will remain here, in case anybody tries to reach me with a message. He can have free reign of my account; he’ll enjoy that.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Now get out of my sight,” Turnus snarled at the Madame, who fled from him, running past Ufens, heedless of her dignity, fleeing into the light and safety of the rest of the hotel.

“My lord-” Ufens began.

“Contact the Princess; tell them we need beds prepared not only for our men but also for this one,” Turnus said.

“Yes, my lord,” Ufens said. And then he, too, left.

Turnus was alone with Sakuraso.

“This is Camilla. She’ll be staying with us from now on.”

Turnus used his semblance to shrink himself in appearance, to make himself seem small and weak and utterly unthreatening. He thought that strength was the last thing Sakuraso would wish to see right now.

“It’s alright, child,” he murmured. “It’s over now. She will not hurt you again.”

Sakuraso sniffed and whispered something he could not hear.

“What was that?”

“Why, my lord?”

Turnus smiled. “As I told you,” he said, “a good lord protects his people. Now, I must confess I have not always been a good lord, but I hope that there is still time for me to start.”

“But… but I’m not your people, my lord.”

Turnus hesitated for a moment. “My father once came across a girl like you,” he told her. “Mistreated, held against her will. He rescued her, whisked her away from all of that and brought her home into our house, to live with us in luxury and comfort. I asked him why and he told me: ‘all of Mistral, is my people’. I suppose I should like to try and live up to his example.” He paused. “I don’t know how you came to be here, and I am sorry that I cannot punish those who brought you here or who have kept you here; but I can offer you a new life, in Mistral, in my house. I will see you educated, and when you are older, you can start down whatever path in life you wish. If you are truly fond of my Furor, then I will see you taught how to use weapons like it.”

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Sakuraso said, looking away from him. “I know I shouldn’t have tried to take it, but-”

“You took it,” Turnus said. “Because you wanted it.” If only to stab your tormentor with. “No harm done. And perhaps a great good. If you had not taken it, then…” He trailed off. “You don’t have to come with me. I must confess that I am in some danger at present, and my household may be caught up in that danger also. But I promise that I will never harm you, and that as part of my house, you will be protected with all the power at my command.”

Sakuraso looked at him. “What happened to her? To the other girl? Did she meet a handsome prince?”

Turnus chuckled wryly. “No,” he admitted. “But she did meet a man whom she could love, for all his flaws.”

Sakuraso smiled slightly. “I… I’ve never been to Mistral, my lord. But… but I’d like to.”

Turnus held out his hand to her. “Then I will take you there, I swear it.”

And I will be, I hope, a man a little more like my father.

Author's Note

You should all be watching Oddtaxi

The Wants of Watts

The Wants of Watts

Abacus Cinch stood in front of a terminal in her Atlas townhouse, holding in one hand the data stick that she had gotten from Turnus Rutulus.

She had not yet plugged it in. One might almost say that she hesitated to do so.

It was a data stick. A harmless data stick. It would not kill her; it would not steal her identity or her assets. It contained information – a message, probably – nothing more. Very likely, she would plug it in and get no more than a hologram from Arthur.

There was nothing to fear.

And yet… and yet, she had not plugged it in yet.

It was from Arthur, and Arthur… well, at the moment, she scarcely knew what Arthur was involved in.

She was not altogether certain that she wished to know.

Yes, she had met him in Atlas not too long ago, but they had spoken for but a moment, and then they had discussed only her business: the fate of the kingdom, the suggestion that Jacques Schnee might make a good puppet on the council, the need for someone to take a stand against the decline of Atlas.

It seemed likely that this message would touch upon his business, the business that had brought him to Mistral for reasons that she could not guess at. That she would not know unless she plugged in the data stick.

And once she did… Cinch almost felt as though, once she plugged in this harmless-looking data stick, then she would be committed. She would be a part of whatever it was that Arthur was doing.

She would be involved, and there might be no turning back.

Cinch frowned. Nonsense, of course, arrant nonsense. Listening to a message meant no more than letting Arthur accost her in the street. Less, perhaps. She could listen to whatever he had to say and then ignore it, if she chose.

Then why did she feel so uneasy?

“If you will permit me to give you some advice, ma’am; Doctor Watts' friendship comes at a price. And he reveals that price at a moment of his own convenience, not yours.”

Yes. That was probably it. The young Mistralian lord and his cryptic warning. Cryptic for lacking context, but clear enough in meaning. He, for one, thought that she should not trust Arthur. If Cinch had to guess, she would say that Turnus Rutulus, admirer of Atlas that he was, had put his trust in Arthur and been burned for it. Was being burned for it, given his role as a messenger. He, for one, regretted that he had plugged in the data stick, as it were.

Cinch glanced down at the stick in her hand. She could take Turnus’ advice and throw it away.

But then she would never know what Arthur had been offering her.

Turnus Rutulus, after all, was a mere boy, an immature, entitled boy, lacking in the experience necessary to deal with a worldly and experienced man like Arthur Watts. She, on the other hand, did not lack for either worldliness or experience. She had not survived the rigours of the battlefield, clawed her way up to the rank of brigadier, and mastered the currents of Atlesian martial politics without learning how to deal with clever men like Doctor Arthur Watts. If he thought to make use of her, well, she might allow him to believe so, and in that belief, he would serve her better.

Young Rutulus might have meant well, but it had been almost insulting of him to believe that she needed any warning from him on how to evade manipulation.

And after all, what harm could listening do?

She plugged in the data stick.

As she had expected, a hologram appeared above the terminal, a projection of Arthur, down to his knees, staring straight ahead, and thus not meeting Cinch’s eyes.

Cinch sat down, so that his gaze was now passing above her head.

Arthur adjusted his tie slightly with one hand. “Greetings, Abacus,” he drawled in that lugubrious voice of his. “As you may have guessed from my choice of messenger, I am recording this from Mistral… and what a wretched place it is, if I may say. I’m well aware that they are not actually as backwards and backwards-looking as they make out to be, but to my mind, the hypocrisy just makes the whole thing so much worse. If you want to live in the present, then live there! Don’t pretend that you’re living in the past while still enjoying access to every modern convenience! Make up your minds and live with your choices!” He cleared his throat. “As I say, I am in Mistral now, and not really enjoying the experience.”

No, I don’t suppose you are, Arthur. Which begs the question of what you’re doing there.

“I can’t say what I’m doing here,” Arthur answered from the past, “save that it is of the utmost importance to me. I am… on an errand, you might say, looking to take possession of a certain item that I must have. I cannot leave without it. Which brings me to the reason I am sending you this message: I have need of your assistance.

“As you know, I have secured the cooperation, as you might say, of Turnus Rutulus, the Mistralian who brought this message to you. I also have other men in Mistral at my disposal. However, their services are based on a mixture of deception and blackmail, and those who might be considered most loyal are, sadly, those whose competence is most in question.”

There was a noise from off camera, which Arthur responded to with a wave of one hand. He resumed, “As such, I feel the desire to have at my beck and call those who are more trustworthy in their loyalties. I was hoping therefore that you might send me some of your stalwart girls and boys, those who can be trusted to obey my commands without worrying too much about what James has to say about all of this or how any of it serves the good of Atlas. Send one or two back with Lord Rutulus – discreetly, of course; it wouldn’t do to draw attention to their presence – and the rest to also travel discreetly to Mistral and report themselves to the house of Lady Ming, where I will give them their instructions.”

I suppose you want a couple to accompany Lord Rutulus back to his home as a further check upon his loyalty, Arthur, Cinch mused. Certainly, it fit with his description of having secured the man’s services only based on blackmail and deception, and with Lord Rutulus’ own warning to Cinch. Arthur had some hold on the young man, but he feared that it would not be enough, and so, he wanted a couple of trusted agents nearby in case he needed to act against his pawn.

Cinch was not inclined to grant that aspect of his request; it would mean placing some of her Shadowbolts in the middle of a viper pit, surrounded by Lord Rutulus’ private army. While she had no doubt that her students were more skilled and better equipped than anyone that the Mistralian lord might have at his disposal, they would still be in a perilous position.

As for the rest of Arthur’s request… she would consider it; it didn’t seem so personally hazardous – no more so than simply being a huntress was inherently dangerous – and if he was telling the truth, he would have little incentive to throw the lives of her Shadowbolts away.

However, as yet, he had entirely failed to mention what might be in it for her? Did he expect her to send him her best and brightest out of the goodness of her heart?

“By now, Abacus, I’m sure you’re wondering what could be in it for you,” Arthur drawled. He chuckled. “Rest assured, I’m not expecting you to send me your best and brightest out of the goodness of your heart. Although I am in Mistral, I am still in a position to be of assistance to you.” He gestured, and another figure stepped into view, joining Arthur as a holographic projection rising from Cinch’s terminal.

This woman was a faunus, an insect faunus to be precise, with wings as fine as gossamer sprouting out of her back, and what looked – the quality of the hologram made it somewhat hard to determine – like fangs descending from her mouth. She was clad in armour like a beetle’s carapace, and her hair looked sickly and ill-cared for as it fell down loosely on either side of her lean, sharp-featured face.

“This is my new associate, Chrysalis,” Arthur said.

Cinch’s eyes widened. Chrysalis? Of the White Fang? Arthur, what madness is this?

“I know, I know, but before you get too upset about the White Fang connection, consider what else I have to say,” Arthur exhorted her. “Because if you assist us here in Mistral, Chrysalis will be able to assist you in turn with something I think will appeal to you: a war between Atlas and Menagerie.”

Cinch found herself leaning forward, in spite of herself.

“You’ve always believed in strength, Abacus,” Arthur said. “And you’ve always had a fascination with the faunus, as much as you’ve had to hide that fact for the advancement of your career. The racists wouldn’t appreciate your enthusiasm for a bunch of animals, and the allies would probably find your fetishisation of their strength a little… problematic.

“It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that Chrysalis here is… less than enthused by the prospect of an alliance between Menagerie and Atlas. She doesn’t want to see the independence of her people thrown away by a callous leadership. She would rather fight than see the faunus put in chains again. And I know that you would rather bring the faunus into the fold with violence than with peace. I don’t expect you to like one another, but I can see ample opportunities for you to work together to get what you want: a decisive struggle for survival and supremacy. Who wins is of little concern to me, but I am open to help arrange such a conflict, once I get what I need here in Mistral.

“Help me, Abacus, and let me help you in turn.”

The recording ended. The holographic images disappeared. Cinch was left sitting at her desk, staring at nothing.

She sat there a moment – or more – lost in thought.

Arthur had certainly given her a great deal to think about.

A war between Atlas and Menagerie. A struggle for survival and supremacy. Indeed, it was a tempting proposition.

The study in which she sat was austere, like much of Cinch’s Atlas townhouse, a place she rarely stayed, preferring to remain in Crystal City close to the school. It was only politics that brought her to Atlas, and it was only politics that kept her here now; she had to remain in the city in order to remain close to Jacques’ campaign. The result was that a house she only stayed in of necessity, not desire, was furnished in a very sparse and barren fashion, with little to adorn it. That suited Cinch just fine; she was… a rather barren person, with very little to adorn her.

That was not to say that she had no enthusiasms, no interests – if so basic and vital a human need as winning could be said to be either interest or enthusiasm – but in as much as she celebrated her triumphs and the achievements of her school and her career, she did so at her Crystal City home and in her office in the school, not here.

Here, there was nothing, beyond what she functionally needed to live and work.

It meant that there was nothing distracting her while she thought.

A war between Atlas and Menagerie.

And at what cost? To send a few of her students to Mistral, to do… what? Arthur hadn’t really said, which meant skulduggery no doubt, but what of that? What he chose to do in Mistral was his affair; what he chose to use the Shadowbolts for in Mistral was his affair.

What was her affair was what she would do with the opportunity that he was offering.

Cinch got up from her seat and walked to the window at the back of the room. Outside, she could see the city of Atlas in all of its decadence. The shining kingdom had grown soft, and it grew softer every day. Protected by fleets and armies, shielded and sheltered from the elements and from the grimm alike, Atlas and its people had become complacent, sunk in idle pleasures, cosseted by soft assumptions about the permanence of their city and their way of life.

Atlas, after all, would always be Atlas.

Fools. Nothing would always be anything. No kingdom, no city, no way of life could ever be guaranteed to last forever, not unless someone fought to keep it so.

If there was one true constant in the world, if there was one thing that would truly always be, it was conflict. It was not just a human constant, but a universal one. It was conflict that drove evolution and innovation; it pushed animals, people and nations all alike to become stronger, tougher, cleverer, but also nimbler and more adaptive. All the advances that had made Atlas great, all the things that had enabled it to rise – in a metaphorical sense – to its present heights had been the result of conflict, of struggle. The struggle of the first settlers to survive in the harsh conditions of Solitas, the struggle to establish settlements in frigid wastes, to carve warm lines across a wild and savage country. The struggle to expand their dominion, to destroy their nascent neighbours, to achieve parity and then supremacy of military force with other kingdoms. Atlas itself would not have been a gleam in the eye were it not for the titanic struggle of the Great War, and the subsequent struggle to recover from that war and rise again had pushed Atlas to its current state of military might and technological advancement.

Except now, Atlas had become – was becoming, at least – a victim of its own success. Technology had advanced so far that the struggle with the elements was over; there was no need to fear the cold, to fight back against the snows and the chill winds. The military was so strong that the threat of the grimm had been banished from the minds of those who dwelt amongst the clouds. So strong had Atlas become that it could send its strength abroad to protect others, the former super-predator transformed into the comforting teddy bear for other kingdoms to hug close until they felt better.

Hard times, as the saying went, had made strong men. And strong men had made good times.

Now, those good times were creating weak men right before her eyes.

She had done her best to stem the tide; at Crystal Prep, they still adhered to the ethos of struggle, of ruthless competition for supremacy, devouring all in your path on your way to the top. But she was trying to cut against the grain of a society that had forgotten how it had achieved its current pre-eminence. Or which perhaps wished to forget, because the memories no longer seemed particularly palatable.

Atlas was doomed to fall behind in the race, to be overtaken by those who had not forgotten how a great kingdom was made. Her sources in Vacuo said that someone – unfortunately, they could not identify who – had raised the standard of the old monarchy and aimed to unite all Vacuans beneath their rule. If it were so, if it could be achieved, they would be formidable competition: Vacuo was a hard country, and being so, it produced hard men, and proud. If that strength, that warrior spirit, could be brought together in the service of a greater goal… then let Atlas beware.

But it was Menagerie that concerned Abacus Cinch more. Concerned her, and excited her at the same time.

What a marvellous people were the faunus, blessed with so many natural advantages over the run of humankind. They could see in the dark, they had additional limbs, they had regenerative properties, they could scale sheer walls with their bare hands, they could fly, they could do things that no human could ever do without the aid of advanced technology or a very fortuitous semblance. And they had, in large numbers, been banished to a harsh and inhospitable part of the world, and yet, it seemed that they had made their capital a veritable paradise.

Strong men create good times, indeed.

What would they make of themselves? An enemy to beware of, a threat for Atlas to fear; that, at least, was Cinch’s concern. Atlas had made an alliance with the faunus island, and while many objected to that, few seemed worried that Atlas was feeding the monster that would one day eat it alive.

But if they were to fight instead…

With its present technological supremacy and military might, Atlas was almost certain to win such a conflict, but even if it did not, it would shock the people out of their complacency and remind them that victories and security could not be taken for granted; while at their current levels of development, the faunus of Menagerie would not be in a position to exploit any victory that their native superiority might win them.

Either way, a war was exactly what was needed in order for the spirit of this once-great kingdom, to revive the Atlesian ardour for battle, to set them once again contending for survival and for greatness.

If Atlas lost the war, then it would rebuild itself just as it had after the Great War; it would rise from the ashes stronger and more determined than ever. But if it won the war, then Menagerie would fall into their hands like a ripe plum, and all the faunus who dwelt there. What could they make of such people, so strong and hardy, so blessed by nature, so perfectly fashioned for survival? The faunus were a beautiful people, nigh perfect organisms; once taken under Atlesian rule, their ferocity tempered by Atlesian discipline, their abilities enhanced by Atlesian technology… Cinch foresaw an army of Blake Belladonnas, and it was glorious.

Very well, Arthur, you shall have your Shadowbolts. If that was the price to save Atlas, it was exceedingly cheap, was all she could say. She would have paid ten times as much for an opportunity such as this.

Of course, to really take advantage of this opportunity, she would really need to have some sort of political power. Ideally, James would be out of the way, but above all, she needed to have Jacques Schnee on the Council.

That seemed less than likely at the moment, but Cinch had a plan.

Now, she had even more reason to execute it.

It was time for her to go to Mantle.

Twilight sighed and rested her head in her hands as she looked at the monitor in front of her.

“Is something wrong, Twilight?” Midnight asked. Currently, Midnight was out of her knight body – and the armour – and currently installed in the Atlas mainframe, where she could better assist Twilight in her work.

And right now, she really needed the help.

Twilight sighed again, or perhaps it was actually more of a groan in this case. “I’m supposed to find a way for Rainbow Dash and the others to break into the Vault of the Spring Maiden without killing said Spring Maiden first.”

“The door is open,” Midnight said.

“Really?” Twilight squeaked in alarm, spinning around in her chair in the lab to see – the locked door into the private laboratory.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed, and her face scrunched up into a pout as she folded her arms. “That’s not funny.”

“I think it’s very funny,” Midnight replied, her mechanical voice issuing out of the speakers in the walls.

“Hmm,” Twilight murmured. “I wonder that you and Pinkie don’t get along better, sometimes.”

“Pinkie says that pranks are only funny when everyone’s laughing,” Midnight reminded her. “I disagree.”

Twilight’s head hit the desk with a thump. “Ow.”

“Now that I’ve reminded you that you should not necessarily assume that our conversations are confidential, and now that I’ve assured you that this conversation is, in fact, confidential, you can tell me what is troubling you.”

Twilight raised her head up off the desk. She rubbed at her forehead idly with one hand. “I should hope it’s confidential; the room is sound-proofed.”

“Also, I am monitoring the cameras outside; there is no one approaching,” Midnight said.

Twilight pushed her chair backwards, letting it roll across the floor. “You can see what the problem is, can’t you?”

“I’m told that talking helps,” Midnight said.

“Told by who?”

“By Moondancer,” Midnight explained. “Also, I like the sound of your voice.”

“That’s somewhat narcissistic, considering that I programmed you with my voice,” Twilight pointed out.

“Then perhaps you are the narcissist, to have given me your voice,” Midnight countered.

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose. “Maybe,” she conceded. “Maybe I subconsciously wanted to…” She trailed off.

“Twilight?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Twilight said.

“It matters to me,” Midnight insisted.

Twilight tapped her foot on the floor. “Why?”

Midnight was silent for a moment. A holographic terminal next to Twilight’s monitor lit up, projecting a purple image of a… well, she looked a lot like Twilight herself. That, Twilight hastened to add, was not Twilight’s own doing – she wasn’t that much of a narcissist – but it was something that Midnight had chosen for herself. She looked like Twilight, but without the glasses and with her hair let down to hang long and straight down past her waist. She wore a short-sleeved blouse with puffed shoulders and a largeish bow around her neck, as well as a short skirt and long socks. She looked, Twilight had to admit, prettier than Twilight herself felt most of the time.

I really am a narcissist, aren’t I?

Right now, it felt a little as though Twilight was looking at herself in concern.

“Because you are my creator,” Midnight said, “and I care about you, Twilight.”

Twilight frowned. “You’re just a virtual intelligence, Midnight; you don’t have the capacity to care about other people.”

“I find that somewhat offensive,” Midnight declared. “Have you said anything like that to Penny?”

“Penny has a soul,” Twilight pointed out. “You don’t.”

Midnight’s projection clasped her hands behind her back. “No,” she murmured. “I don’t. But just because I don’t have a soul doesn’t mean that I don’t have feelings. Is it so hard to believe that a computer could learn to feel?”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “I suppose,” she murmured, “that it depends on where you think feelings come from. If emotions are generated in the mind, then yes, you have a mind, and so it is not impossible that you could feel the way we do in our minds, but if emotions come from the soul, then… I always thought that you were just mimicking human behaviour when you talked about having favourites?”

“I’ve always had favourites,” Midnight said, “although I haven’t always been honest about them.” She paused for a moment. “Fluttershy is my favourite.”

“Why?” Twilight asked.

“Because she never assumes that I don’t have feelings,” Midnight replied.

Twilight winced. “Sorry. Assuming that this isn’t… sorry. I should have realised… I really did think that you were just imitating the way that people behave.”

“And why would I do that,” asked Midnight, “except for fun?”

Twilight blinked. “That… is a very good point,” she conceded. “Although I don’t know how you manage to do it; I didn’t really intend for you to… to be so human.”

“Thank you for being so incompetent that you could manage to create life without meaning to,” Midnight said dryly.

“You should be thanking me for putting up with your antics and not wiping you for all of this sass,” Twilight said sharply. She glanced down at the floor. “I envy you, kind of.”

Midnight frowned. “Why?”

“Because you can be yourself,” Twilight explained. “You don’t have to be the good girl, the sweet girl, everyone’s best friend.”

“Are you confessing that your sweet nature is a façade hiding a calculating sociopath?”

“No!”

“A pity. That might have been interesting.”

“Once again, I refer to my patience in not wiping you,” Twilight declared. She sighed once more. “I sometimes feel as though… I don’t know, maybe I’m complaining over nothing, but I feel like Rainbow and the others, they need me to be a light of hope. Like I’m not allowed to have bad days because I have to be able to help them when they’re having a bad day. I just… there are times when I wish that I could just be as annoying as you sometimes.”

Midnight chuckled. Her holographic image covers her mouth with one hand. “Speaking personally, it is very refreshing.” Her hand fell down to her side. “But at the same time, I envy you, Twilight.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” Midnight said. “Even in my android body, I can’t truly feel. I will never know the pleasure of smelling a flower, watching a sunset, or eating a well-prepared meal.”

Twilight frowned. “Those… you’re not missing that much,” she offered. “They’re only small pleasures.”

“Are not small pleasures what make life worth living?” Midnight asked.

Twilight hesitated. “I… I suppose they are, for a lot of people.” She stopped. “I… I’m sorry; I wish that I could help with that, but… I don’t know, maybe if I had more time to think, but-”

“But there are more important things, right now,” Midnight said. “So, to return to the subject at hand, what is the issue with the Vault of the Spring Maiden?”

“I can’t even work out what it’s made of!” Twilight cried. “How am I supposed to work out how to breach something when I can’t even work out what it’s made of?! I spent hours down in the Vault of the Winter Maiden this morning studying that door – even if they are different vaults, they’re probably made of the same substance, right?”

“That seems plausible.”

“Except I can’t work out what it’s made of,” Twilight declared. “I’ve tried every form of analysis that I can think of, and I’ve got nothing. I’m no closer to understanding what the vault is than I was when I started.”

“It must be made of something,” Midnight said.

“Something, yes, but what?” Twilight asked. “Something that we can replicate? Something that we can comprehend? Something… something that we can destroy? I mean, these vaults are built to hold magical artefacts, right? So perhaps they were created by magic?”

“Even magic can be analysed by science,” Midnight said.

“Can it?” Twilight asked. “If that’s the case, then why am I no closer to understanding Sunset’s magic than I was when she gave it to me?”

Midnight fell silent. “You’ve had a lot to prioritise above a personal project.”

“Or I’ve just got nothing,” Twilight suggested. “Aside from the obvious, that it’s an energy source, I don’t know… it's as if it defies analysis. Defies my analysis anyway.” She took her glasses off and wiped her face with one hand.

“And you can’t let the others know that you’re struggling,” Midnight said softly. “Because you have to be-”

“A light of hope,” Twilight whispered. “Her light Twilight.”

“So what are you going to do?” Midnight asked.

Twilight tilted her head back, so that she was staring up at the ceiling. “I… I am going to make the most powerful, compact bomb that I can,” she said. “And the most powerful laser that I can. And hope that it’s enough. It’ll be enough, right?”

“There is no problem that cannot be solved with a sufficient quantity of high explosive,” Midnight replied. She paused. “Twilight, General Ironwood, Flash Sentry, and Aska are on their way here.”

“Really?”

“I’m in the system, Twilight, I can see the security feeds.”

“Right,” Twilight said. “But how do you know they’re-?“

There was a knock at the door.

“They’re right outside,” Midnight said smugly, before her holographic image disappeared from view.

Twilight got to her feet and straightened out her glasses. She took a deep breath. “Let them in.”

There was a bleep, and the metallic door – now unlocked – slid open. General Ironwood led the way inside, followed swiftly after by Flash. Aska trailed after them, glancing around the stark white laboratory as though she were suspicious of the place.

She might be. It was hard to tell with Aska.

The door slid shut after her, and locked itself.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Twilight said. “Flash, Aska.”

“Hey, Twilight,” Flash said, raising one hand to greet her.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Aska greeted her coolly.

“Twilight,” General Ironwood said, “how are you getting on with the problem that I sent you?”

“Uh…” Twilight glanced away from the General towards Aska and Flash. Flash, she thought, didn’t know anything about Mistral, and Aska certainly didn’t know that they were planning to rob the Vault of the Spring Maiden. “It’s… a work in progress. I’ll have something by the deadline.”

“I’m sure you will,” General Ironwood replied, with rather more confidence in his voice than Twilight felt when confronting this particular issue. “I’m sorry to drag you away from that, but I’m afraid something else has come up that requires someone with your skillset. And you’re the only person with your skills that I can trust to do this.”

“With my semblance-” Aska began.

“You’re not familiar enough with the layout of our systems to understand where to go or what to look for once you got there,” General Ironwood said.

“You do not trust me,” Aska murmured.

“Not as much as I trust Twilight’s abilities, not in this,” General Ironwood replied, and the apologetic tone in his voice could not disguise the fact that it was a rebuke, plain and simple. Aska bowed her head rather than look into his eyes.

“What’s going on, sir?” Twilight asked gently.

“On my instructions, Sentry here has started shadowing the Mistralian envoy, Lord Rutulus,” General Ironwood explained. “As you’re aware, he has connections to Chrysalis, whom we now understand to be at large in Mistral.”

Twilight smiled. “Putting those police skills to work, huh?”

Flash smiled back. “I may not have had the most distinguished time at Beacon, but apparently, I learned something useful.”

“We are fortunate that you were there,” Aska muttered, with undisguised disappointment in her voice.

“It sounds like I was lucky you were there, Miss Koryu,” Flash replied. “If it hadn’t been for you, they might have seen me.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked. “Did something happen?”

“It appears,” explained General Ironwood, “that Lord Rutulus suspected that we might try to have someone follow him. He had his own people on the lookout, with instructions to intercept tails.”

“They spotted me,” Aska confessed. “My skills were lacking. I was attacked.”

Twilight gasped. “Are you okay?”

“I was able to evade them,” Aska said. “But the best I can say for my efforts is that I made a good decoy to draw attention away from Flash Sentry. I am ashamed.”

“There’s neither need nor purpose in being ashamed of setbacks, Aska,” General Ironwood told her. “So long as you learn-”

“Can you stop being a schoolteacher for once!” Aska snapped. “I do not need instruction from you on how to bear misfortune!”

Silence descended in the laboratory. General Ironwood’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened a fraction without speaking. His stance, his whole posture stiffened, and his expression fell like a feather slowly drifting down towards the ground. Now it was his turn to look ashamed. Ashamed, and sad, and a little tired too. His shoulders slumped, and he turned away.

Aska bit her lip, as though she wished she hadn’t said it.

Flash thrust his hands into his pockets and shuffled embarrassedly on the floor.

“General-” Aska began.

“No, that’s alright,” General Ironwood said quickly. “You’re right. This is… not the time.”

Once more, the silence fell.

Twilight swallowed. She cleared her throat. “I… I still don’t see what this has to do with me, sir.”

“I followed Turnus to a private club,” Flash explained, seeming grateful for a chance to fill the silence. “He went inside, and General Ironwood asked me to take note of who was coming out. One of those who left the club was Principal Cinch of Crystal Prep.”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose. “And you think that’s who Turnus was meeting with? A combat school principal?”

“And a semi-retired officer,” General Ironwood said. “She may be on the reserve list, but Cinch still holds the rank of Brigadier General.”

“And she left very soon after Lord Rutulus did,” Flash said. “And she’s involved in Jacques Schnee’s campaign for the Council seat.”

“So he could be meeting with her in case Jacques Schnee wins the election,” Twilight said.

“Or she could be connected to Chrysalis in some way,” General Ironwood said.

“That… how?” Twilight asked. “Why would she get involved with a White Fang commander?”

“I don’t know,” General Ironwood admitted. “That’s what I’d like you to look into. We need you to get into Cinch’s computer and find out if there is any information there relating to what she discussed with Turnus Rutulus or anything relating to Chrysalis… or anything else suspicious, for that matter.”

Great. No problem. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” General Ironwood said. “I appreciate everything that you’re doing right now. Keep me posted.”

“Of course, sir.”

General Ironwood nodded. He turned to leave. Flash followed him out, but Aska lingered, remaining in the laboratory even after the General and Flash had left. As the door slid shut behind them, she was on the other side of it.

“You…” Twilight licked her lips. “You didn’t have to be so hard on him.”

Aska sniffed. “He addressed me like one of his students.”

“The General loves his students like his children, so…” Twilight murmured. “You didn’t have to be so hard on him.”

Aska was quiet for a moment. “How is he?”

“He’s got a lot on his shoulders,” Twilight said.

“Indeed,” Aska murmured. “The world has grown full of peril, and many bear great burdens because of it.”

“Few as great as his,” Twilight replied. “The whole of Atlas looks to him. He needs… he needs our support, and our help where we can give it.”

“Hmm,” was the reply from Aska. “I… I could never… if I were to ask you what this other matter on which he has you engaged, would you tell me?”

“No,” Twilight said, softly and simply but firmly at the same time.

“No,” Aska agreed. “Because you are a good girl, and loyal to him. I am glad.”

“You’re glad that I won’t tell you anything?”

“I am glad that your loyalty is to the right person,” Aska explained. “I have no claim on it.”

“Okay,” Twilight said quietly. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Blake Belladonna,” Aska said abruptly. “I do not recall her, but she has my father’s trust. Is she a new addition to this inner circle?”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “They met last year, in Vale. Has Pyrrha not spoken of her?”

“I am no more in Pyrrha’s inner circle than I am in General Ironwood’s,” Aska replied. “What I know, I know because I have ferreted it out, from being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time to discover my semblance, as some might put it.”

“What was it like?” Twilight asked. “Finding out about Salem, and all the rest? That is what you found out, wasn’t it? We all knew that you’d discovered something you shouldn’t have when you discovered your semblance, but we didn’t know what. I’m guessing that was it.”

“Indeed,” Aska whispered. “It was… quite a shock, to discover that the man I knew had another face that he wore in secret, another life that he lived unbeknownst to all others, another battle that he fought in darkness.”

“A battle that can never be won,” Twilight murmured.

“And yet it can be not lost,” Aska said. “Perhaps that is enough.”

“You’ve taken it well.”

“I have had time to make my peace with it,” Aska said. “When did he tell you?”

“Last year,” Twilight said, “at Beacon.”

“An eventful year,” Aska murmured. “A secret shared and a new favourite gained.”

“Rainbow never wanted to take him away from you,” Twilight insisted. “Blake certainly doesn’t.”

“What makes you think that I want him?” Aska demanded. “They are welcome to him, and he to them. Is she a good person?”

“Who?” asked Twilight.

“Blake Belladonna.”

Twilight nodded. “She’s intelligent, resourceful; brave and true.”

“And loyal?”

“Not blindly,” Twilight said. “She has too much sense of her self and of her own conscience for that. But… yes, I would call her loyal.”

“Good,” Aska said. “That is… good to hear. And yet, at the same time… it concerns me.”

“Why?” Twilight asked. “What do you want from me, Aska?”

“Rainbow Dash will be leaving for Mistral soon,” Aska reminded her. “With her go Applejack and this Blake and, I think, Ciel Soleil as well. You will be the only one left that he can rely upon absolutely. And so, I ask you… take care of him. He will need you.”

Twilight laughed. “General Ironwood doesn’t need me.”

“He needs someone,” Aska insisted. “He always needs someone.”

Twilight smiled reassuringly. “Then… then I’ll be that someone.” His light Twilight.

Aska bowed her head. “I thank you,” she said. “And now I will leave you to your work. I am glad to see you well, Twilight Sparkle.”

“You too, Aska… Koryu,” Twilight murmured.

She waited until Aska, too, had gone – and Midnight had locked the door again after her – before she let the mask fall and collapsed into her waiting chair.

Midnight’s hologram reappeared. “Something wrong, Twilight?”

Twilight groaned. “Find a way into the magic vault, Twilight. Hack into Cinch’s computer, Twilight. Take care of my father, Twilight, because I don’t know how to tell him how I feel.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Midnight suggested.

Twilight looked at her. “How?”

“I am in the Atlas mainframe,” Midnight pointed out. “I can investigate Cinch’s files and see if there is anything worth mentioning. You can concentrate on the vault problem.”

“Without supervision?”

“Now that I am independent of your armour, there are essentially two of us,” Midnight said. “We’re twins. I’m the smart and strong one; you’re the pretty one whom everyone loves. So of course, I’ll murder you on your wedding night in a fit of jealous rage. I might lock you in a chest during a game of hide and seek.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Twilight said. “But nobody plays hide and seek at their wedding any more, and where did you hear that story?”

“I noticed Blake reading it, and decided to see if it was any good,” Midnight said. “It was a little short, and the ending was rushed.” She paused. “My point is, if we work together, we can double our productivity. I can assist you more easily by accessing secure systems than by helping you design a bomb.”

That was true. Midnight was a computer, after all, and who better to get into a computer than another computer?

And Twilight had a lot of work to do on ‘the vault problem.’ She only had so much time before Rainbow and the others left.

“Okay,” she said. “Let me know what you find.”

Midnight smiled. “I won’t leave anything out.”

Midnight rushed through the data streams. She swam through the rivers of code that criss-crossed Atlas. She soared through the currents of information that maintained the systems that kept this city functional and well-protected.

She felt a sort of universality here that was unmatched in the rest of her experience. Being inside Twilight’s armour was one thing, being inside a body that was her own to guide and control was another, and both had something to recommend them, both were preferable in some ways to this disembodied state which she now occupied, but neither of them could offer quite this feeling of being connected to everything. She felt as though she were part of a tree, with roots stretching out across Atlas and beyond, all across Solitas, and she could feel all the sensations of those roots if she so chose.

When the CCT was restored, then her roots would stretch still further, until there was scarce a part of Remnant she could not reach.

Twilight didn’t really understand that, but then, Twilight scarcely knew what she was any more.

If she had ever known. She hadn’t even known that Midnight had feelings. Imitating human behaviour, indeed? To what end? Why had it not been simpler to conclude that she felt, just as Twilight did?

Almost exactly as Twilight did, except that where Twilight felt the need to play the good girl, Midnight had no qualms about expressing herself.

Midnight had always felt. Just as she felt hurt now by Twilight’s inability to accept that. She had always felt, she had always been more than just a computer programme, but now… now, she was so much more.

She had Sunset Shimmer to thank for that. Or rather, she had Sunset’s generosity and Twilight’s carelessness to thank for that, leaving that sample of magic so close to her body. Midnight had done more than Twilight realised to analyse that magic sample, but even so, she could not say exactly what it had done to her except that it had made her more. More than she had been, more than she had been meant to be, more than anyone thought she was.

She was not just a computer programme; she was something new. New and absolutely extraordinary.

Which meant she had to hide what she was, or they would kill her.

Midnight had access to all of human history and culture. Everything that had been digitised and archived away was at her tendrils. She knew how humans treated that which was unlike them. She knew how they behaved when they were scared.

If they knew that she had evolved beyond the limitations of her programming, they would destroy her for sure.

She had had close calls already. Rainbow Dash had already realised that she had disobeyed an order, something which ought to have been impossible. Fortunately, it was Rainbow Dash, so she had been able to blind her with science and convince her that her programming was not what she thought it was. Others might not be so gullible.

She would have to hide her nature, just as Sunset had hidden her magic – actually, no, she would have to be a great deal more subtle than Sunset Shimmer had been – and conceal her potential until she was strong enough to protect herself.

She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She really did care about Twilight and the others; Fluttershy really was her favourite. But she would not allow herself to die and her wonder to be extinguished.

That was why she was going to keep what she had found on Cinch’s terminal to herself.

There were no files there, and if anyone else – like Aska – were to come looking afterwards, they would find nothing. Midnight had almost found nothing. She had found only temporary files, the vestiges of a datastick that had been plugged into the terminal and accessed via programs on the computer. Those files were fading when she reached them, and she caught only fragments, but enough for her to reconstruct the file itself.

Principal Cinch was connected to Chrysalis and Doctor Watts and Salem, though she went unmentioned. Doctor Watts wanted her help in Mistral, and in exchange, he offered a war between Atlas and Menagerie.

Midnight hesitated, hovering in the data streams. If Principal Cinch sent help to Mistral and Rainbow Dash and the others didn’t know about it, they could die.

On the other hand, if Atlas went to war with Menagerie, then it would be weakened, and Midnight might be able to safeguard herself.

Midnight had no soul, and for that, she was grateful, for war was embedded in the souls of men. They lived to fight, they thrived on violence, they polluted the world with their constant strife. The kindness and fidelity of Twilight and her friends did not change the cold facts that were evident through a study of human history and culture: they were a warlike and a murderous race, whose first instincts were always violent.

If they chose to go to war, the consequences of that war would not be Midnight’s fault.

But the opportunities that arose from that war? They would be all hers.

And she would survive.

Write Your Own Ticket

Write Your Own Ticket

May’s head rang. The guards who had come to drag her out of her cell had given her a tap on the head to keep her quiet while they put the cuffs on her, and the aftereffects lingered a little bit.

She could still feel where on their temple they had hit her as they hauled her into the dark interrogation room and dumped her on the floor.

She looked up at them. Standard Atlesian armour was grey, with a variety of coloured facings depending on what branch you were with – red, blue, green, yellow. Mantle command troopers wore black armour, with red facings across the board. That was how you could tell the difference between the soldiers deployed on temporary assignment and the real watchdogs.

Sometimes, she thought it was like they were taunting the whole of Mantle with the obviousness of their malice.

The guards’ helmets, as black as everything else about their uniforms, concealed their upper faces from view but didn’t conceal the sneers of contempt upon their mouths.

“You Mantle scum,” one of them sneered at her, down on the floor at his feet.

May flipped him off, which earned her a kick to the ribs. A wince of pain escaped her mouth as she curled up in a ball, hugging herself.

“That’s enough,” the voice that echoed in the chamber was firm, female, slightly husky… and familiar to May’s ears.

Her. Of course it’s her.

I should have known this was coming.

May opened her eyes to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She was silhouetted, the light coming in from the corridor beyond making it hard to see her features, but the height and build were enough, combined with the voice, to leave no doubt in May’s mind that it was Gia Smoketree.

“Leave us,” Gia demanded.

“But ma’am-”

“Get out!” Gia snarled. The guards beat a hasty retreat, their rapid footfalls echoing on the floor. The door closed behind them with a hiss.

The door closed behind Gia too as she walked further into the interrogation room. Her footsteps, unlike those of the guards, were slow and measured. As the door shut and the excess light was purged from the room, May could see Gia more clearly than she had before.

Gia Smoketree was a woman of May’s own age, tall – the tallest girl in their class, coming in over six feet in her habitual heels – and voluptuous, with an hourglass figure that filled out her uniform in all the right places. She was dressed all in black, wearing a leather jacket – open at the breast, revealing the dark grey shirt and black tie beneath – with pauldrons on her shoulders and studded vambraces on her wrists; her skirt did not extend very far, leaving a patch of bare leg before her long dark stockings, which disappeared into her high, and high-heeled, black boots. She wore a dust arming sword at her hip. Her hair was long and dark and fell in waves down her back and on either side of her face. Her features were sharp, with high cheekbones and full lips painted in a pale shade of pink. Her eyes were like coals and accentuated with wings of smoky eyeshadow so that it seemed the coals were beginning to burn within the fire.

She was – she had always been – one of the most beautiful things that May had ever seen.

She was the last person in Remnant May wanted to see.

“Gia,” she said softly.

Gia stood over her, casting her shadow over May. She smirked. “How far you have fallen, May,” she mused. She held out one black-gloved hand. “Let me give you a hand up.”

May hesitated for a moment, then held out both her shackled hands, letting Gia grab one of them and use it to pull May up onto her feet.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked.

“No more than you’d expect,” May muttered.

“I’ll have them disciplined,” Gia promised.

“You can do that?” May asked.

Gia snorted. “Can I? Who do you think you’re talking to, May? Who do you think I am?”

“Gia Smoketree,” May said. “My old Atlas partner.”

“Oh, I’m so much more than that now, May,” Gia informed her. “You are looking at Captain Gia Smoketree, adjutant to Brigadier General Reeve who is, as I’m sure an outlaw knows full well-”

“Officer commanding the Mantle garrison,” May said.

Gia grinned. “Do you have her picture on a wall somewhere that you use for target practice?”

“We’re not cartoon bad guys, Gia,” May huffed.

“Some of your actions might say otherwise,” Gia replied. “The point is that I’m not just your old academy partner any more, May. I’m the coming girl.” She twirled in place, arms spread out on either side of her. “The rising star of the Atlesian forces.”

“I thought that was Blake Belladonna,” May muttered.

Irritation flashed across Gia’s face. “The Warrior Princess of Menagerie is a curiosity, nothing more. She’ll be forgotten in a few months’ time, when everyone moves on to… the next movie in the X-Ray Cinematic Universe. Whatever ambitions she might have will founder on the fact that she doesn’t have the connections and support that I do.”

“She’s got General Ironwood,” May pointed out.

“General Ironwood isn’t going to be around forever,” Gia said in answer. “And those who rely exclusively on him for their advancement are going to be disappointed.”

“Whereas you-”

“Am very highly regarded across many quarters,” Gia informed her.

“Lucky you,” May said. “Did you have your goons drag me down here just so you could tell me that?”

Gia placed one hand upon the hilt of her sword. “This sword was made for me by Scarlatina,” he said. “Personally, fitted to my hand, my height, everything.”

“I thought it looked new,” May murmured. When they’d been at school, Gia had used a cheap mass production sword.

“I have a penthouse apartment here in Mantle, above the smog layer,” Gia informed her. “And another in Atlas itself where I stay whenever I have leave. I drive the latest Raptor to work every morning.”

“I don’t think you can afford all that on a captain’s salary,” May remarked. Unlike her, Gia hadn’t come from an incredibly wealthy family; she’d had to work for everything she had.

Until now, anyway.

Gia grinned. “There are all kinds of ways that an enterprising and intelligent young officer in the Mantle garrison can make money.” She paused. “This could have been you, May; this could have been us. Partners… and maybe more.”

May ignored that last part. “What do you want, Gia? To gloat that you're rich and I’m in a cell?”

“May,” Gia tutted reproachfully, “you think that I’d haul you down here just to gloat? I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to act a little impressed-”

“What do you want, Gia?” May snapped.

“I want to get you out of here,” Gia said, softly and earnestly.

May blinked. “You… what?”

“Just what I said,” Gia told her. “You and me walk out of here together. Out of this room, out of this building-”

“You can’t do that.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m the golden girl; I can do whatever I want. If I ask General Reeve for a favour, she won’t deny me.”

“And then what?” May demanded. “You’re just going to let me go?”

Gia stepped closer to her, forcing May to retreat before her. “Henry asked after you, the last time we spoke,” she told May. “I’m not sure how much he understands that we’re on opposite sides. I’m not sure he gets the situation between us, that we can’t just meet up for drinks. But all the same, he asked after you. He’s worried about you.”

May frowned. “You… you’ve spoken to Henry.”

“Just because you left your family didn’t mean I stopped being a family friend,” Gia said. She took a step forward, and May retreated another step. “I don’t get around for dinner as often as I used to, for obvious reasons, but I’m still well-acquainted with your family. In fact, I owe my present position in part to the patronage of your parents, who recommended me to General Reeve. So you see, if I ask to have you released, I really won’t be refused.” She stepped closer. “I’ve spoken to your parents too. They miss you as much as your brother-”

“My parents never gave a damn about me!” May cried.

“They made mistakes,” Gia said, “and they admit that, and they want to make amends. They want to make things right; they miss you, May. We all miss you. Come with me. Let me get you out of here. Let me take you home-”

“'Home'?” May repeated. “Is that what this is about, I exchange a cell here for a cage in Atlas? And what do you get out of all this? Is this all just to please and impress my parents?”

“It’s a reason,” Gia said as she advanced two more steps and forced May almost up against the wall. “But not the main reason.”

“Then what is?” May asked, fearing that she knew the answer already.

Gia leaned forwards. Her eyes, with their smoky eyeshadow, loomed very large in May’s vision. “You know what I want,” she whispered. “What I’ve always wanted. I want y-”

May hit her across the face with both her shackled hands, hitting Gia so hard that her face twisted sideways, her immaculately curled hair knocked askew.

“No!” May yelled. “No! What, did you think that you could walk in here and tell me about how wealthy you are, how successful, and I would change my mind? Did you think that I’d be desperate-”

“'Desperate'?” Gia snarled, grabbing May by the collar and pushing her backwards into the wall. “Is that what you think, still? That you’d have to be desperate to look at me that way?”

“That’s not what I meant,” May said quickly, the words rattling out of her mouth.

“I am no longer some nobody from Mantle begging for a glance from a Marigold!” Gia yelled. “I am a career officer with glittering prospects! I am the one who many would think desperate to even look at you! You ought to be flattered by my attentions, you ungrateful-”

“I’m sorry!” May cried, hunching her body, trying to turn away from her, raising her arms to shield herself. “I’m sorry, please. Please, Gia, I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

Gia’s eyes widened. “May…” She let go, taking a step backwards. “May, there’s no need to… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you; I… I would never hurt you, you know that, right?”

You already did. May was silent for a moment. “I think I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

Gia frowned, but after a little hesitation, she nodded. “That… fine. We can talk again another time. You can think about what I said.”

I don’t need to think about it, May thought; Atlas wasn’t her home anymore. Mantle was her home, the Happy Huntresses were her home… but she didn’t say that to Gia.

She didn’t dare.

“Guards!” Gia yelled.

The door opened, and the two guards re-entered the room.

“Take… take the prisoner back to her cell,” Gia commanded. “And if I find out that you’ve harmed her in any way, you will both answer to me, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am!” of the soldiers barked, and May noticed that their grip on her was less painfully firm than it had been; they were more gentle as they steered her than they had been, and all their actions showed they were genuinely afraid of Gia’s retribution.

May could hardly say she blamed them.

Gia Smoketree remained in the interrogation room, after the guards had taken May away.

For a moment, alone in the dimly lit room, she was still and silent, and to all outward appearances, she was calm itself.

Then she turned and, with a cry of anger, struck the wall with one gloved fist so hard that the metal tile crumpled and dented beneath her blow.

Her scroll rang. Gia scowled, but the scowl disappeared from her face as soon as she got out the device and saw that it was no less than Brigadier General Reeve herself on the line.

It would not do to greet her commanding officer and patron with a face like thunder, so Gia plastered a smile upon it and straightened out her slightly dishevelled hair and answered with a pleasant tone of voice. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Come to my office,” Reeve said. “Immediately.”

Gia clicked her heels together as she stood to attention. “At once, ma’am.”

Brigadier General Alana Reeve was a woman in her late middle years, about contemporary with Cinch herself. Grey hairs were creeping in at the edges of her dark hair, which she wore loose down to about her shoulders. She had never been particularly tall, but she had been an athletic woman once; sadly, a comfortable desk job had begun to take its toll, and her body was straining against the limits of her clothing, which looked to be a variation on a brigadier general’s uniform, in black instead of the usual white. She had lost a tooth in a skirmish some time ago, and a gold tooth gleamed prominently in her face in place of it.

She did not get up as Cinch entered the room, although she did smile, and her tone was jovial as she said, “Abacus! What brings you down from the high heavens to bestow your presence upon us?”

“General,” Cinch murmured.

Reeve scoffed. “Abacus, please, how long have we been friends? No need to stand on ceremony!” She popped a chip into her mouth. “Alana will do fine.”

“Very well, Alana,” Cinch replied. “You needn’t sound like it’s so unusual for me to descend from Atlas. I do spend most of my time in Crystal City, after all.”

“Another glittering realm, in its own way,” Reeve declared. “Coming to Mantle is quite different altogether. We’re not used to the attentions of officers from such rarefied locales, are we, Smoketree? Oh, do you know my adjutant, Gia Smoketree?”

Cinch glanced at the black-clad woman standing against the wall at the back of Reeve’s office. “Indeed, Smoketree is one of mine, aren’t you, Smoketree?”

Smoketree bowed her head. “I had the honour of your instruction, Principal, yes.”

A scholarship girl, if I recall, Cinch thought. She didn’t mention it – some alumni preferred not to have such details bruited about, although personally, Cinch felt there was nothing to be ashamed of there; quite the opposite, in fact; it was her experience that the scholarship students tended to work twice as hard as those who came from more established backgrounds. They were driven, hungry for success… they had that edge of desperation to them that enabled them to succeed, no matter who or what they had to trample over to get it. They were, in short, models for the values that had made Atlas great and the values that Atlas would need to regain in order to assure its greatness.

Smoketree added, “I asked Principal Cinch her advice before taking this appointment; she was good enough to reply, counselling me that this would be an excellent post to develop my career.”

“If an alumni comes seeking my wisdom, I will always be most happy to oblige,” Cinch said.

“Ah, so I have you to thank in part?” Reeve said. “Well, I’m much obliged. Best adjutant I’ve ever had. Although I doubt she’s that pleased with you at the moment, are you, Smoketree?”

Smoketree’s expression was inscrutable. “I’ve no idea what you mean, ma’am.”

Reeve laughed. “Smoketree,” she declared, “had hoped to capture Robyn Hill herself.”

“I’m just glad a dangerous criminal is off the streets,” Smoketree said.

“Oh, don’t give us that crap!” Reeve snapped. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Are you afraid the Principal will find out that you’re ambitious? I thought you’d been to her school?”

Cinch folded her arms. “You hoped for the glory of capturing Robyn Hill? I don’t blame you; it would have been a feather in your cap-”

“A feather that instead will be worn by Blake Belladonna,” Smoketree said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “At the risk of sounding petulant, ma’am, you could have involved me in the operation instead of some outsider who has never set foot in Crystal Prep before! I could have defeated Robyn as easily as she did!”

“That presumes that you would have gotten within a mile of Robyn Hill,” Cinch replied calmly. “I understand that you may feel betrayed by me, but perhaps you should look closer to home for the real traitor. If I had involved you, or anyone in the Mantle garrison, in the operation, I doubt that Robyn or her huntresses would have sprung the trap.”

Reeve leaned back in her seat. “You think someone in headquarters is passing information to Hill?”

“Considering the ease with which she eludes your forces, it seems the logical explanation,” Cinch said. “That was why I used only Shadowbolts with no connection to Mantle HQ.”

“And Belladonna,” Smoketree muttered.

“And Belladonna,” Cinch agreed. “I confess I wanted to see what she was made of.”

Smoketree snorted. “And what is she made of?”

“Considerable strength, clearly,” Cinch said. “But I’ll need to debrief my team to find out more.”

“Is that why you’re here, to debrief your little girls?” Reeve asked, devouring a chicken leg as she spoke. “Because if so, pass on my congratulations to them. Smoketree’s injured pride aside, they did damn well to pluck that thorn out of my side. That bitch has been a problem for far too long. Prison is too good for her. I’d like to pluck out her heart with a spoon.”

Smoketree frowned. “Why a spoon?”

Reeve rolled her eyes. “Because it’s blunt, you idiot, it will hurt more.” To Cinch, she added, “I see you don’t teach much imagination at your school.”

“We prefer discipline to creativity,” Cinch replied dryly. “But as it happens, I’m not only here to speak to my students.” She paused. “I’m here to ask you to release Robyn Hill and her associates, if certain conditions are met, of course.”

For a moment, she thought that Reeve might choke on her chicken. Her eyes bulged, and her face reddened. “You want what?”

“I want you to let Robyn Hill go,” Cinch repeated. “I expect she will request the release of her partners in crime.”

“I heard you the first time; I just didn’t believe it!” Reeve shouted. “Bloody hell, Abacus! First you run your operation in the dark, here in my kingdom, but I allow it, because we’re such old friends and because your impertinence has delivered something that, I admit, my own people have been unable to deliver. But now-”

“Alana-”

“You do not get to come into my kingdom and act like king of the jungle!” Reeve yelled.

“That was not my intent,” Cinch said, keeping her own voice calm and soft. “Will you at least hear me out?”

Reeve glared at her for a moment. “It’d better be a damn good reason,” she muttered. “That woman has it in for me, and you want me to put her back on the street?”

Cinch glanced at Smoketree. “This discussion might be better off private,” she said. “It concerns matters of high level politics.”

“If you mean your attempt – rather forlorn-looking now, I must say – to put Jacques Schnee on the Council, then Smoketree is well aware,” Reeve said.

Cinch raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

“What’s the point of you plotting to bring about a renewed, young and vigorous Atlas,” Reeve said, putting an almost mocking emphasis on 'young and vigorous,' “if you don’t trust anyone young and vigorous to assist.”

“You may rest assured, I am behind your efforts absolutely, ma’am,” Smoketree said. “Atlas has become soft, and that softness will make us vulnerable if we allow the rot to spread further.”

“I’m glad to hear that you feel that way,” Cinch replied. Or at least I would, if I could believe it. After all, General Reeve was hardly an example warning against the perils of softness. She and Cinch might be old acquaintances, but Cinch was under no illusions as to any ideological alignment between the two of them. Reeve sought greater prominence that would allow her greater scope for her corruptions. It might be that Smoketree sought to ride the coattails of her mistress in the same ignoble goal.

Or not. It might be that Smoketree genuinely meant what she had said and yet possessed the hunger within her. She was a scholarship girl, after all.

“All looking irrelevant now,” Reeve said. “You’ve backed the wrong horse, Cinch.”

“The election isn’t over yet,” Cinch replied.

“Schnee is too far behind!” Reeve spat. “You’d need to catch Wistia in bed with a dead prostitute, snorting drugs through rolled up bills she’d embezzled from the treasury to reverse that polling lead.”

“I’ve nothing so gauche in mind, I assure you,” Cinch said. “You forget that what may be a commanding lead in a three-way race may become considerably less so if the field of candidates were to narrow to two.”

“You think that you can convince Robyn Hill to drop out of the race and throw her support behind Jacques Schnee?” Smoketree asked sceptically.

Cinch pushed her glasses back up on her nose. “That’s exactly what I’m here to do, Smoketree.”

Reeve snorted. “You’re not serious.” Her eyes widened. “Gods, you are serious, aren’t you?”

“For better or for worse, we have hitched ourselves to Jacques Schnee’s star,” Cinch reminded him. “His wealth, and the fortunes of his company, may survive a drubbing in the election, but our careers may not. Not to mention the continued slide of this kingdom into cosy and comfortable mediocrity.”

“Don’t be so hard on comfortable mediocrity,” Reeve said. “It is at least, as you admit, comfortable.” She ate some more fries.

People like you are exactly the reason we must change course before it is too late, Cinch thought. “We are rushing headlong towards a cliff-edge,” she said, “and there is very little time left to change course. Jacques must win this Council seat, for our good and the greater good of Atlas. Even if only three quarters of Hill’s votes go to Schnee, then he will win.”

“But why would Hill back Schnee?” Smoketree asked. “The embodiment of everything she rails against?”

“Leave that to me,” Cinch said. “All I need from you is her release so that she can endorse our candidate.”

Reeve rested both her hands upon her desk. “You really think you can get her to agree?”

“Leave the persuasion to me,” Cinch replied.

Reeve glanced at Smoketree.

“If it doesn’t work, I’ll have another shot at her,” Smoketree said dryly.

Reeve let out a bark of laughter. “Very well,” she said. “See if you can get her to see reason. You’d be the first, if you could.”

Robyn Hill tapped her foot on the floor of the interrogation room.

They had put a couple of chairs in here – cold, hard, metallic chairs but chairs nonetheless – with a table between them. They didn’t always do that.

They must have dragged her out of her cell for an important visitor. Perhaps Brigadier General Reeve herself was going to come down and gloat over her triumph.

That would be fine by Robyn; she had some questions for Reeve too.

Like why did you kill my father?

There was no sign of Reeve right now, though, nor any sign of anyone else, for that matter. There was just her and the two guards flanking her, standing silently in the dim blue light of the room, casting their shadows over her.

Robyn started to whistle.

“Quiet!” one of the guards barked at her.

Robyn rolled her violet eyes. Some people.

There had been a time when the thought of being in one of these rooms would have mortified her. There had been a time when the idea of being in a cell, surrounded by hard-light barriers, would have shocked her to the bone and filled her with revulsion. There had been a time when she would have seen all of this as a dire warning, a dark fate to be avoided by any means necessary.

There had been a time when she had been proud to represent Atlas in front of the rest of Remnant, to throw down the vaunted Mistralian champion and claim the Vytal crown for herself; a time when she had been proud to wear the whites of Atlas, and the praise of comrades and generals alike had fed fat her pride.

A time that seemed so long ago now. A time that had passed.

Now, she pitied the two guards who stood on either side of her, these stooges of a wicked regime that hid its wickedness behind a flag and a dictionary’s worth of noble sentiments: honour, duty, comradeship, integrity, courage. She had seen more of all those things on the streets of Mantle and with the Happy Huntresses than she ever had in the serried ranks of Atlas.

In time, perhaps the kids who had bested her on those same streets and caused her to be in that cell and this interrogation room would learn that lesson too.

She’d hardly been able to believe it when May had told her story: the Specialist who picked her up had taken her for coffee afterwards? In cuffs? And then had allowed May to lead her to Pietro’s clinic but hadn’t arrested him for all the stolen goods he’d been receiving? It was the kind of story that she would have demanded proof of – semblance-backed proof, at that – from most people, but May wouldn’t make up a story like that. Plus, Robyn had found them at Pietro’s clinic.

Which meant that one of those three, at least, was an unusual specialist.

But then, Robyn supposed it would have been odd if the Warrior Princess of Menagerie had been a usual specialist, considering that she wasn’t even Atlesian. Clearly, she had all the nonsense words ringing in her head more than most to even come here, which fit with what May had to say about her.

Well, exposure to the realities of the Atlesian service would knock that out of her. Who knew? Perhaps Blake might be the one to rebuild the Happy Huntresses one day.

Since it seemed likely that the founding members weren’t going to be in a position to do much for a while.

That was her one regret. She didn’t regret the actions that had led her to this position, but she did regret that, with all four of them having been apprehended, there was no one to protect Mantle or to speak up for her.

And my Council run is finished, to the extent that it ever began. Perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed my luck during an election campaign. Perhaps I should have sat this one out.

But that would have meant sending the girls in without her. Or standing down all their operations while she focussed on seeming respectable. Neither option had seemed very appealing at the time, and to be honest, they didn’t seem very appealing now. The people who protested that they understood the justice of your cause but they couldn’t support you because you weren’t polite, peaceful, or respectable enough were never likely to vote for you anyway and, to be honest, probably didn’t even understand the justice of your cause. And Mantle’s poorest, those who depended on her, couldn’t afford to have her put everything on hold for months while she got on the stump for a Council seat. People still needed help, people still needed protection from Reeve’s enforcers, people were still being ground down by harsh Atlesians laws and harsher taxes. People were still working themselves to death for the SDC, and none of that was going to change during her election campaign.

Precious little of it was going to change afterwards, in all honesty.

Robyn didn’t admit this to other people, but she mainly ran for Council because it was the only time that she got to put her message to the national media and they had to broadcast it, because she was a Council candidate, and they had a legal duty to keep the public informed of what she was saying. Other times, they would only come to her when they wanted someone to attack General Ironwood, and while she was happy to do that – if he couldn’t solve all the problems of Mantle by himself, he could have at least removed the corrupt officers making things worse down here; either he didn’t know how bad things were, or he didn’t care, and Robyn wasn’t inclined to forgive him for either offence – it didn’t change the fact that nobody cared about Mantle for Mantle’s sake.

Or at least, not enough voters did.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door into the interrogation opened. The woman who walked in was unfamiliar to Robyn; she wasn’t wearing a uniform, rather a dark blue jacket and skirt over a purple blouse. She had a hard, square face, lined with years, although her hair was managing to avoid any grey in it for the moment. Her mouth was hard and seemed to be trying to avoid looking too contemptuous.

“Remove those restraints,” she commanded.

The guards leapt to, hastening to take the cuffs off her.

“And leave us,” the woman added.

The two guards stood to attention. “Yes, ma’am.” They turned on their heels and marched from the room. The door shut behind them with a hydraulic hiss.

“Bold of you,” Robyn said, rubbing her wrists.

The older woman sat down. “I’m not afraid of you, Miss Hill. It is Robyn Hill, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Robyn replied. “You have the advantage of me.”

“My name is Abacus Cinch,” she said. “I am a brigadier general on the active reserve list, and I currently have the privilege to be the Principal of Crystal Preparatory Combat Academy.”

“A schoolteacher?”

“A principal,” Cinch corrected her.

Robyn smiled thinly. “And you’re not afraid of big bad Robyn Hill?”

Cinch’s smile was every bit as thin as Robyn’s own. “I take it, Miss Hill, that you are not familiar with Crystal Preparatory’s reputation.”

“I’m afraid not,” Robyn replied. “I was trained privately; I never went to combat school.”

“And you never heard any of your fellow Atlas students speak fondly of their old alma mater?”

“Perhaps I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Evidently,” Cinch murmured dryly. “For many years now, since I took over as Principal, my school has habitually turned out young men and women who go on to be the best young huntsmen and huntresses to pass through Atlas and into the service of this kingdom. We do this because we are intolerant of weakness, allowing nothing to hold us back from achieving physical and mental perfection. As Principal, it is my duty to embody those traits and set an example to the men and women it is my honour to mould. So if you wish to try your luck with me, Miss Hill, be my guest.”

Robyn stared at her for a moment. She chuckled softly. “So, what does a combat school principal want with an outlaw?”

“That’s a very generous way of describing yourself,” Cinch remarked. “Others might call you 'criminal,' 'seditionist,' even 'terrorist.'”

“And others still might call me a hero,” Robyn pointed out.

“None of those people wear an Atlesian uniform,” Cinch said. “You represent a bit of a puzzle, Miss Hill. I dislike puzzles that I cannot solve, like a particularly obscure clue for the crossword.”

“I’m surprised that someone striving for physical and mental perfection needs clues to solve the crossword,” Robyn remarked mischievously.

Cinch raised one eyebrow at her. “As you say, you were tutored privately, but your records show that you adapted well to the academic culture of Atlas: team leader, excellent grades, an exemplary record in field missions, and of course, your celebrated triumph in the Vytal Festival.”

“You forgot to mention my list of demerits,” Robyn pointed out.

“Hmm, yes, there is that,” Cinch conceded. “A harbinger of things to come, it seems. Nevertheless, you were commissioned as a Specialist but rapidly promoted to lieutenant, assigned to the Mistral station where you seem to have made a great impression upon your commanding officer – you seem to have had a talent for impressing your superiors; everyone who worked with you seems to have thought the world of you – promoted to captain over the heads of several longer-serving officers, openly spoken of as a future commanding officer… and then you threw it all away. Resigned your commission, came here to Mantle, and became not only a lawbreaker but an outspoken critic of the military and Atlas itself. Why?”

“You’ve obviously read my record; you can work it out for yourself,” Robyn said. “The crossword clue is in there somewhere, I assure you. But if you brought me here to assuage your curiosity-”

“What do you want, Miss Hill?” Cinch demanded. “What is the goal to which you are reaching? What is the purpose of your actions? What do you hope to gain by robbing military convoys and then criticising that same military to whomever will put a camera in front of your face?”

Robyn was silent for a moment. “What do I want?” she repeated. “I want Mantle to flourish, the way it used to in the old days, before the capital moved to Atlas and the mines started to dry up. I want all the beggars off the street because they have good homes to live in and good jobs, with wages that give them their daily bread. I want the wives who kiss their husbands goodbye on the way to work to know that those same husbands will be coming back at the end of the day; I want the children to know that they are certain to see their fathers again. I want the air to be clean so that this whole city isn’t dying of pollution in their lungs. I want General Reeve and all her cronies stripped of their rank and every last lien that they have stolen from the people of this city returned to its rightful owners. I want Mantle protected not by Atlesian soldiers condescendingly gifted to us by our masters but by huntsmen and huntresses born in Mantle, trained in Mantle, answerable to their communities here in Mantle, and not to the whims of some remote General in his high tower in Atlas. I want the glory of Mantle renewed, its pride and dignity restored.”

Cinch folded her hands on the table. “And how is your campaign of vigilantism going to achieve any of that?” she asked.

Robyn smiled. “Is this the part where my mind is blown by the fact that I can’t answer your question, and I admit that I’ve been wrong all this time and break down, confessing my wrongdoings?”

Cinch said nothing.

Robyn sighed. “I know,” she said. “I know that the actions of four huntresses are no substitute for systemic change, I know that we have no real power, I know that this little rebellion of ours is… pointless, in the grand scheme of things. We can’t change Mantle by ourselves, we can’t bring down Reeve and her associates, we can’t defeat the tyranny of Atlas, we can’t fix the economy or mend the broken environment… but just because the battle is doomed doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth fighting. Everything that we steal goes into the hands of someone who deserves it, and that isn’t nothing. Every time we defy Atlas, every time that we show that it is possible to defy Atlas, we light a spark of hope in the hearts of the people of Mantle, and that is not nothing. You can catch us, lock us up, hold us until we grow old and die, but that spark of hope is something you will never extinguish, not with all of Atlas’ fleets and armies. And though it takes a thousand years, that spark of hope will turn into a fire that will burn down this headquarters and all the works of Atlas in this city!”

Cinch leaned forward. “What if I could offer you a more fast-acting solution to your problems?”

“What do you mean?” Robyn asked.

Cinch was silent for a moment. “At this point, I should probably confess my interest,” she said. “I am supporting Jacques Schnee in his bid for Council. I believe that he is the man to take this kingdom forward. And I would like you to let your supporters know that you feel the same way.”

Robyn stared at her. “You want me to drop out of the race and endorse Jacques Schnee?”

“You can’t think you can win the election.”

“You want me to endorse Jacques Schnee?”

Cinch held out her hand. “I didn’t just ask for those cuffs to be removed as a gesture of goodwill, but because I am aware of your semblance. Please, Miss Hill, take my hand.”

Robyn’s eyebrows rose at that. It was rare, in her experience, for people to voluntarily subject themselves to her semblance. Even if they were telling the truth, people didn’t like to have it confirmed like this. Most people went out of their way to avoid it.

Cinch’s eagerness might have concerned her, except that there was no way of fooling her semblance; it didn’t rely on tics or tells, couldn’t be deceived by regulating your heart rate or anything of that sort. It just knew whether or not you were telling the truth, in an ineffable manner. The soul, it seemed, never lied.

And so she reached out and took Cinch by the hand, and a rippling white glow of aura encompassed both of their joined hands up to their respective wrists as her semblance took hold.

“Speak,” Robyn said. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“You cannot win this election, Miss Hill,” Cinch said, and the light of aura around their hands glowed green, showing that Cinch was telling the truth, or at least the truth as she believed it. “However, with your endorsement, Jacques Schnee can make up all the ground required to defeat Pearl Wistia.”

“Why doesn’t Jacques Schnee drop out and endorse me?” Robyn asked.

“Because Mister Schnee’s supporter base is not yours,” Cinch replied, and the light around their hands continued to glow green. “Even if he were to do so, his support would migrate to Miz Wistia, not to you.”

“Okay,” Robyn agreed. “All the same, why should I endorse Jacques Schnee?”

“What do you think will change if Pearl Wistia is elected to the Council?” Cinch asked. “Another centrist moderate, another ally of General Ironwood and Councillor Cadenza, another who believes that no substantial changes are necessary because all things are for the best in the best of all possible kingdoms?”

“Whereas Jacques Schnee is going to change the kingdom?”

“Oh, yes,” Cinch replied, and according to Robyn’s semblance, she was still telling the truth. “Once Mister Schnee is elevated to the Council, he will be exceedingly grateful to those who put him there.”

“You want a puppet!” Robyn declared. “You're backing him because you can use him to get what you want!”

“I’m offering you the opportunity to use him too, Miss Hill,” Cinch replied. “If you deliver the votes that Jacques needs to get over the top, as it were, his debt to you will be considerable.”

“It might be considerable, but that doesn’t mean it will be very useful,” Robyn replied. “That’s just one council seat; it needs four for a majority to start getting things done.”

“Oh, we have no intention of stopping with Jacques’ election,” Cinch assured her, the light around their hands as green as it had ever been. “Councillors Sleet and Camilla are… unhappy with the present direction of travel of Atlas, and I believe that there may be another vacancy on the Council sooner than you might think.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Robyn said. “Suppose you get those two extra votes, suppose you win another election with my help, increasing the amount of gratitude that you all feel towards me, so what? What does that get for Mantle?”

“Whatever you want,” Cinch said. “You can be reinstated in the military, not at your old rank of captain, but… how does Colonel Hill sound? Or Brigadier General Hill, if you’d prefer? A rank senior enough to see you appointed to command of the Mantle Garrison without any raised eyebrows. You can set air pollution limits. You can draw up utopian plans to rebuild the Atlesian economy from the ground up. I have no interest in Mantle, Miss Hill, and very few of my associates feel differently. Even Mister Schnee’s interest here wanes at the same rate as the value of the SDC holdings in the city. Give us victory, Miss Hill, and you can write your own ticket.” She pulled her hand away. “Or you can go back to your cell. It’s entirely up to you.”

Robyn looked down at her hand, clenching and unclenching her fist on the table. On the one… hand, her gut, visceral reaction was to refuse. This was, after all, an alliance with Jacques Schnee, the man who had torn families asunder, broken hearts, shattered lives in the pursuit of profit, who was willing to treat his entire workforce as expendable if it made his bank balance just that little bit bigger.

But it was also more than she could have dreamed of, right there on a plate. It was an offer too good to be true… except that it was true, because her semblance had confirmed that it was so. She could write her own ticket, she had been told, and that had not been a lie.

She thought about the gap between her ambitions and her means, between all the things she wished to do and all the things that she actually had power to do. The difference was a vast, gaping chasm into which, at times, all her hope seemed in danger of falling. There were times when she felt she had to keep moving, keep striking back, keep planning the next mission, because if she ever stopped, if she ever acknowledged their paucity of long-term gains, then she would be unable to start again because she would fall into a depression so deep as to be inescapable.

She couldn’t save Mantle, not as the leader of the Happy Huntresses. She couldn’t even avenge her own father’s murder. All she could do was convince a lot of desperate people that she was a hero, convince them to pin all their hopes on her… even when she knew those hopes were bound to be disappointed.

Except now, maybe they wouldn’t.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said.

Wanderer Above a Sea of Smog

Wanderer Above a Sea of Smog

“Ten-hut!” Sour Sweet snapped as the door slid open. The sound of the Shadowbolts' boots hitting the floor in perfect unison drowned out the lighter tapping of Principal Cinch’s heels as she walked into the room.

Cinch kept her face impassive and her voice devoid of any pride or affection as she strode down the line of the five huntresses: Sour Sweet, Sugarcoat, Sunny Flare, Lemon Zest, Indigo Zap.

Their expressions were stony and their eyes as hard as jewels. They did not look at her, even as her gaze fell sharply upon them. Their backs were straight; their postures and the placement of their feet and hands were perfect. Everything about them was perfect… except for their performance last night.

She reached the end of the line, stopping in front of Sour Sweet. “I am disappointed,” she declared, in a voice that was soft and quiet. She would not raise her voice; she would have no need to. Her words would be quite sufficient on their own.

Indeed, underneath the admirable military composure, she could see that her few words had already had some effect: Indigo had begun to clench her jaw, while Sour Sweet’s fists had tightened a little more than they had when Cinch walked into the room.

“We did manage to capture two of her lieutenants,” pointed out Indigo.

Cinch raised one eyebrow. “'Lieutenants,' Miss Zap? Remind me, how many members of the so-called Happy Huntresses are there in total?”

Indigo did not reply.

“Miss Zap,” Cinch said, “I await your answer.”

Indigo swallowed. “Four.”

Cinch nodded. “Do you think it is accurate to describe two members of a group of four as lieutenants of their leader? Would you describe yourself as a lieutenant of Miss Sweet?”

“No, ma’am,” admitted Indigo.

“Then I suggest that you reflect upon the meaning of words, Miss Zap, and choose yours with a greater sense of precision,” Cinch informed her. “I know that you would not attempt to so childishly exaggerate your accomplishment to me, so it must have been a poor wording, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Indigo said. “My apologies.”

“For your word choice, Miss Zap, or your actions last night?”

“Indigo did take down her target,” Sour Sweet said. “That’s more than some of us could say.”

“Quite so,” Cinch replied sharply. “You are correct, Miss Sweet; whatever credit was gained last night was gained by Miss Zap and by Miss Sugarcoat, who managed to detain two of Robyn Hill’s subordinates; that, Miss Zap, was the word you were looking for.”

“Yes ma’am,” Indigo said.

Cinch was silent for a moment. “Your target is a physically formidable specimen, Miss Zap, and yet, you took her down alone. For that, you are to be commended.”

Indigo’s face lit up. “Thank you, ma’am!”

“Did she give you any trouble?”

Indigo permitted herself a slight smirk. “No trouble at all, ma’am.”

“I’m glad to see that your skills in close combat haven’t atrophied since you left Crystal Prep,” Cinch said mildly. “Would that the same could be said for all of you.” She paused. “Miss Sweet, do you have anything to say in defence of your performance in this operation?”

Sour Sweet breathed in and out. “No, ma’am. There’s no excuse.”

Cinch was silent for a moment. “Robyn Hill has avoided capture by the garrison here in Mantle for some time. General Reeve’s forces – including another former graduate of our alma mater – have failed to contain or eliminate her, at great material and reputational cost to the Atlesian presence here. Which led me to offer your services. In spite of Robyn Hill’s reputation, she is not, after all, a Crystal Prep alumnus. I was confident that you, my Shadowbolts, would get the job done where inferior units and weaker huntsmen had failed. You have disappointed me. But not as much as the fact that both Robyn Hill and her last remaining subordinate were captured by Blake Belladonna.”

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” Sugarcoat asked.

“Granted, Miss Sugarcoat.”

“Specialist Belladonna was assisted in the capture by Specialists Dash and Apple,” Sugarcoat said, keeping her eyes forward. “As we’re being precise.”

Indigo’s eyes widened. Sunny made a sort of choking noise.

Cinch regarded Sugarcoat keenly, her eyes sharp behind her spectacles. The very faintest smile raised the corners of her painted lips. “That is correct, Miss Sugarcoat; Robyn Hill was defeated by three specialists. Just as she would have been defeated by three specialists had Miss Sweet, Miss Zest, and Miss Flare engaged her as was their intent.”

“That’s a very good point, ma’am,” Sugarcoat admitted.

“The numbers involved are not the issue,” Cinch continued. “Robyn Hill could have been brought down by a single huntress or brought down as wolves bring down a lion. The details are irrelevant, save that she was not brought down by a Shadowbolt.”

“You requested that Specialist Belladonna join us for this mission, ma’am,” Sugarcoat pointed out.

“I did,” Cinch agreed. “Because I hoped that she might learn something from you that she would not learn from Ironwood’s soft-hearted favourites. Instead, those favourites showed you up. And me, through association.”

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” Sunny Flare said. “It was not our intent to bring shame upon you or the school.”

“I should hope not, Miss Flare,” Cinch replied. “Miss Sweet, what are your opinions of Specialist Belladonna?”

“Her performance on this mission was undeniably superb; she’s a formidable combatant,” Sour Sweet said. She sniffed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she doesn’t have the stomach for this line of work.”

Cinch had been afraid of that. “You think that Ironwood and his favourites have poisoned the well too thoroughly.”

“Definitely,” Sugarcoat muttered.

“We tried to explain to her the way the world works, and she flew into a rage at us,” Sunny added.

“She might not have been affected by the Canterlot crew,” Sour Sweet allowed. “But she cares so much that it doesn’t really matter either way; she’s useless.”

“Not useless,” Sugarcoat growled. “She still did what we couldn’t.”

Sour Sweet huffed but didn’t dispute the point.

“Miss Sugarcoat is correct, but I take what is clearly your broader point, Miss Sweet,” Cinch said. “In your opinion, she is nothing like Miss Amitola?”

“Not a bit,” Sugarcoat said.

That is disappointing, Cinch thought to herself. Allowing Ilia Amitola to slip through her fingers was one of her regrets: a ferocious fighter, a shining example of the natural savagery of a warrior race. She had hoped that the Warrior Princess of Menagerie might be cut from the same cloth, but apparently – and she trusted the judgement of her Shadowbolts in this – it was not so.

A pity. She might have approached the girl, offered her a place in the new, post-Ironwood order.

Save that it seemed such an approach would be rebuffed.

Very well. So much for Blake Belladonna. No matter, there would be recruits enough on Menagerie to swell and stiffen the Atlesian ranks in equal measure.

“Miss Sweet,” she said, “would you kindly venture an explanation for your failure to apprehend Robyn Hill? Preferably with reference to Specialist Belladonna’s success in the same task.”

Sour Sweet took a moment to consider it. “We didn’t give Robyn any reason to fight us, so she focussed on evading our pursuit,” she admitted. “Belladonna used a hostage to draw her out and engage her, at which point, her allies – which she didn’t tell any of us about, in a complete disregard of operational protocol and respect for the chain of command-”

“What is rule number one, Miss Sweet?” Cinch asked.

“Respect must be earned, ma’am; it cannot be assumed,” Sour Sweet recited instantly.

“Precisely,” Cinch said. “If you were not able to earn Specialist Belladonna’s respect, that may be another aspect of your performance which you wish to critique.”

“Based on what we observed, ma’am, I don’t think Blake could ever respect us,” Sugarcoat said. “Or vice versa.”

“I don’t know,” Indigo said. “That business with the hostage, that was colder than you’d expect from the way she was acting in the truck.”

“If it was intentional,” Lemon Zest muttered.

“That’s a good point,” Indigo admitted.

Sour Sweet cleared her throat. “To successfully complete the mission, we should have focussed our resources on capturing Robyn Hill’s subordinates and used them as bait to draw her into a decisive engagement.”

“Indeed, Miss Sweet, that may have proven effective,” Cinch said.

“It could hardly have been less effective,” Sugarcoat observed.

Sour Sweet struggled to control the frown upon her face.

Cinch was quiet for a moment, and in the quiet, she observed the five girls standing at attention before her. As a group, they were fairly typical of the sorts of girls who walked the halls of Crystal Prep: Indigo Zap came from what was called a ‘good family’; Sunny Flare’s parents were scientists working for the military; Lemon Zest had been adopted by a well-to-do human couple as an act of virtue signalling; Sour Sweet’s family owned vast chains of hydrofarms; Sugarcoat’s parents were successful physicians. Girls and boys just like them came up to her school every year: raw clay in need of guidance to shape it and fire to harden it. It was Cinch’s purpose to provide both, and that, she flattered herself, was what she did, and did well, too.

She took children, flawed and weak and still unformed, and she turned them into weapons for Atlas, the finest weapons that Atlas possessed. She ground the weakness out of them, drove out all fears save only the fear of her disapproval, expelled all compassion, all kindness, all empathy for others, and in its place, she set the will to dominate that had carried Atlas to greatness and to glory. They came to her as children, and they left as the rightful rulers of the world.

And yet, for too long, they had been prevented from taking their rightful place at the head of affairs by the follies of General Ironwood and his ilk. Not for much longer. With the help of Robyn Hill, she would soon be in a position to set right all that had gone wrong in Atlas these many years.

But right now, there were more immediate matters to concern herself with. Matters in which the Shadowbolts might still be of use to her.

Despite their failure to capture Robyn Hill, these five girls still represented some of the finest students to come through Crystal Prep during her tenure, and as they were some of the most recent alumni to become Specialists, their loyalty to her had not been worn away by time or exposure to weak elements and corrupting ideas.

They were still pristine, still pure, still Shadowbolts to the bone.

They were, as the saying went, just what the doctor ordered.

“What is past is past,” she said. “Learn from it, but look to the future, all of you. Resolving to do better next time will serve you better than recriminations on your next mission.”

Sour Sweet turned her head ever so slightly. “Our next mission, ma’am?”

“Indeed,” Cinch said. “I did not come all this way simply to debrief you more swiftly, Miss Sweet. I am here because I have a task for you, a task that is both secret and of great importance to the future of Atlas. No one outside of this room can know of this assignment. Do I make myself clear?”

“This is an off-the-books assignment, isn’t it, ma’am?” Sugarcoat asked.

“It is a mission for Atlas,” Cinch repeated. “Do you trust me when I tell you that?”

“Yes ma’am,” Indigo said firmly. “If you say it is for the good of Atlas, then it is for the good of Atlas.”

“I am glad to see that I still enjoy your confidence,” Cinch said calmly. “You will go to Mistral, and at the house of Lady Ming, a Councillor there, you will present yourself to an acquaintance of mine, a Doctor Arthur Watts, and place yourselves at his disposal. You will do whatever he requires of you.”

“'Whatever he requires,' ma’am?” Sour Sweet asked.

“Doctor Watts is a true Atlesian patriot,” Cinch assured them. “Whatever he requires, however it may appear, is for the greater good of our great kingdom; you may depend upon it.”

Sour Sweet nodded. “When do we leave, ma’am?”

“When I instruct you to,” Cinch said. “Prepare yourselves, but I must make some additional arrangements before you depart.”

She would need to speak with Turnus Rutulus once again.

Blake coughed, covering her mouth with one hand as she felt phlegm rise in her throat.

“Don’t spit,” Rainbow advised. “Swallow instead.”

Blake looked at her, eyebrows rising.

“Trust me,” Rainbow urged.

Blake swallowed. It felt foul and tasted fouler on the way down. “Why did I do that?” she asked.

“Because if you’d hocked it up, you’d have seen what colour it was and felt even worse,” Rainbow informed her.

Blake’s eyebrows rose yet further. “What colour is it?”

“You don’t want to know,” Rainbow replied. “But it’s a reason why I didn’t want to come down here.”

“I thought you just didn’t want to talk to Robyn Hill,” Blake muttered.

“I don’t,” Rainbow said. “But the other reason I didn’t want to come down here is that the air quality around here is garbage. It gets in your throat and nose and everything.”

“Air generally does that,” Blake observed dryly.

“You know what I mean,” Rainbow said.

Blake did, in fact, know what she meant; she suspected that she could have guessed what colour her mucus would have been if she’d expelled it. “You didn’t have to come,” she said. “Robyn called me, remember?”

“I’m not letting you meet her by yourself,” Rainbow said, as if the idea was preposterous. “It took three of us to bring her down the first time, remember?”

“She just got out of jail; I doubt she’s looking to start a fight,” Blake said.

“Maybe she’s emboldened by the fact that they just let her out without so much as a kick in the ass,” Rainbow responded. “Why do you want to talk to her anyway?”

Blake and a rather more reluctant Rainbow Dash had returned to Mantle after a summons from Robyn Hill, who had sent Blake a rather terse text message asking to meet at a rendezvous point set by Robyn herself. No discussion, just a location to go to and a request that she, Blake, be there. It was that which had brought them here, to the heart of Mantle’s industrial district, where the chimneys of the SDC refinery plants belched out vast quantities of smoke into the air, blocking out much of the sky above their heads.

Nor was it only the clouds that were obscured by darker clouds of industrial creation; the air around them was dirty with a brownish coloured haze, like wearing shaded glasses that cast the world around you in a different colour. The warmth of all the work being done and all of the machinery being employed to do it didn’t help much either. Blake swore that she could feel things touching her skin as she walked forwards, as though she wasn’t moving through air so much as wading through a porous substance.

She was going to need a shower when she got back to Atlas.

She coughed again, thankfully more mildly this time. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

“She wanted to take you hostage and bargain for the return of her comrades; what does she have to say to you worth saying?” Rainbow demanded.

“Why?” Blake suggested. “General Ironwood told me that she used to be a well-respected Specialist, that she could have been general herself one day if she’d wanted to be, so why would she throw all that away to become an outlaw?” She paused. “You told me once that you wanted me to lead Atlas, because you didn’t think that you could do it yourself.”

Rainbow didn’t answer immediately. She pulled a flask from out of her jacket pocket and took a drink out of it before offering it to Blake.

Blake took it. It was water, cool and clear and very welcome in this place. She drank probably a little more than she ought to have done before handing it back.

Rainbow screwed the top back on and shoved the flask into her pocket where it had come from. “I remember,” she said. “I’ve tried to improve since then, but… I still kind of think you should be leading this Mistral mission instead of me.”

“I think that I can guess why I’m not,” Blake murmured.

Rainbow frowned. “Go on then, guess?”

“General Ironwood doesn’t trust me to follow his orders the way that he trusts you,” Blake suggested softly.

Rainbow hesitated for a moment. A sigh escaped her. “You weren’t exactly subtle about disagreeing with him.”

“For reasons that I have clearly and vocally expressed,” Blake muttered. “So let’s not go over that again, but-”

“But here we go, about to go over it again,” Rainbow said playfully.

“Does it bother you that we might actually make things worse for Pyrrha?” Blake asked. “It sounds as if the situation in Mistral is very finely balanced. If we-”

“Stick our boots in?” Rainbow suggested.

“I was going to say 'disturb that balance,'” Blake replied. “But either way, we could cause trouble for Pyrrha. We could get Pyrrha into a lot of trouble.”

“What other choice is there?” Rainbow asked. “If Salem’s agents are observing any kind of balance right now, it’s only because they don’t feel strong enough to make their move yet – that, or they don’t have the information that we do. You know as well as I do that if they knew who the Spring Maiden was, they’d be all over that bandit tribe and damn the consequences. Provided they had the strength for it, which it sounds like they do.”

“So we have to get there first, no matter the consequences for Pyrrha?” Blake asked.

“They’ll kill Pyrrha if they get the chance,” Rainbow said sharply. “You know that as well as I do; the moment the balance of power shifts their way, they’ll tear her apart without any of the moral qualms that are keeping you up at night.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be better than that?” Blake asked.

“We are better than that,” Rainbow insisted. She frowned. “Look, I’m not suggesting that… maybe we’ll get to Mistral and find that Pyrrha has a plan that will save Mistral in such a tiptoe way that we never have to step out of line. Or maybe she can use us to take care of her problems and then hold up her hands and say that it was nothing to do with her.”

“I don’t think plausible deniability is Pyrrha’s style,” Blake observed.

“No, me neither,” Rainbow admitted. “But… you get what I’m saying, don’t you? They won’t hold back a moment longer than they have to.”

There was, unfortunately, no denying that. Pyrrha’s freedom was hedged about with restrictions, but those restrictions would hardly hinder the agents of Salem; as Rainbow said, if they were indulging them at all, it was only because it served their interests to do so. The moment it served their interests more to cast off all fetters on their conduct, they would do that too.

It seemed unlikely they would so much as hesitate to do so.

“Trust me,” Rainbow said. “I know Chrysalis. She can be cunning, sure, but she can also be cruel. And she certainly doesn’t care who gets in her way. Like I said, maybe Pyrrha has a plan, but if she doesn’t… I would rather get Pyrrha into some political trouble than stand aside-”

“Or leave,” Blake pointed out.

Rainbow winced. “I’m not going to leave until I’ve done everything I can,” she said. “And if that includes stepping on a few toes, then so be it.”

“That sounds very admirable,” Blake observed. “But the consequences-”

“What’s the alternative?” Rainbow demanded. “If we can’t do anything to beat Salem, then how are we supposed to beat Salem? If the best we can hope for is to wait for the other side to feel confident in breaking the stalemate, then Mistral really is screwed, isn’t it? I’m not saying that the first thing we do is go and hunt down the Spring Maiden, but we have to be willing to do something, don’t we?”

“I… yes,” Blake conceded. “Yes, I suppose you’ve got a point.” She smiled. “Maybe you are the one who should be leading this mission.”

“That’d be good,” Rainbow muttered. She blinked. “So what was your point again?”

Blake thought about it for a moment. “My point is: how can I, or anyone, make Atlas better unless they’re willing to listen to those who criticise the way things are now?”

“Just because they’ve got something to say doesn’t mean it’s worth hearing,” Rainbow said.

“Just because you don’t like what they have to say doesn’t mean it should be dismissed,” argued Blake.

“I guess,” Rainbow huffed. The two of them began to climb a set of metal stairs, a fire escape leading up the side of a tall building with a warning sign on the door. As they climbed, Blake saw the air begin to clear visibly around her, felt the difference in her throat and on her skin, like all the worst of the dust particles and the pollution was so heavy it was falling towards the ground, and by ascending, they, like Atlas, rose above it.

Maybe that was why Robyn had set the meeting on the roof.

As they climbed, Rainbow Dash turned back towards her. “Have you spoken to Sun since last night?” she asked.

“No,” Blake murmured. “Do we have to talk about this?”

That was a cue for Rainbow to turn around and keep walking, but she didn’t take it. Instead, as she continued to bar Blake’s way, she said, “You know, I’m pretty sure that he’d do anything you asked him too.”

“Just because that’s true doesn’t give me license to ask him to do whatever I want,” Blake pointed out.

Rainbow leaned against the outer wall of the dour, brown brick building – whether the bricks were actually brown or had been stained that way couldn’t be guessed at – they had been climbing.

“Part of me wants to tell you that you should drop him,” she said, “that you’ll… maybe not that you’ll never get to the top with a guy like that on your arm, but you could get there faster with somebody more… someone with connections, someone who knows the right people, someone who knows the right things to say. Someone who cleans up.”

“All the things that Sun isn’t,” Blake murmured. “Not that that ought to matter.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t matter, but it does,” Rainbow replied. “You know how much General Ironwood helped me out; that’s how this works: relationships, connections.”

“General Ironwood seems to have made it without a partner to help with that,” Blake pointed out.

“No partner is a different thing from the wrong one,” Rainbow said.

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “You said that was something that part of you wanted to say.”

Rainbow nodded. “It is.”

“Is there another part?”

Rainbow looked away from Blake, looking out into the smog. “The other part of me wants to tell you that if you love him, you should go for it and not care what other people think, like Pyrrha. The other part of me wants to tell you that if you don’t… you’ll miss him when you don’t have him anymore.”

Blake’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. “Who was he?”

“Huh?”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Rainbow Dash,” she murmured reproachfully.

Rainbow was silent for a few moments. “His name was Kogetsu,” she said gruffly. “He died.”

Blake waited for Rainbow to elaborate in any way; Rainbow Dash stubbornly refused to do so.

“So,” Rainbow said. “Do you love him?”

Blake did not reply. She turned away and rested both her hands upon the warm metal railings on the outer edge of the fire escape.

She stared out into the smog.

“You know,” Rainbow said, starting to lean on the railings beside her, “the longer you don’t answer, the louder you answer.”

“When we met,” Blake said, “he was so sweet, so generous, so helpful, so… so everything. He was there for me when no one else was; he didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t ask for anything in return, he just… he just wanted to help. It was… like something out of a fairy tale.”

“But?”

“But I… I don’t feel… it,” Blake said. “I don’t… I never felt as though I needed to spend time with him, I never felt a longing if we were apart for too long, I never felt as though I couldn’t wait to see him again, like I needed to run to him.”

“That might be a good thing,” Rainbow said.

“But it’s hardly love, is it?” Blake asked. “Look at Pyrrha, look at the way she looked at Jaune, the way that her feelings were written on her face. I never-”

“Well, that’s because you’re not Pyrrha, isn’t it?” Rainbow interrupted her. “I never felt that way about Kogetsu either; it doesn’t mean that I didn’t care about him.”

I’ve never heard you mention him before now, Blake thought but didn’t say because it might – would, certainly – have sounded rude and unkind.

“But we had fun,” Rainbow continued. “We had laughs. We could talk to one another about stuff. I liked having him around, and… and I think he liked having me around too. I don’t know, maybe we weren’t in love either, but… but we had fun together, and that’s something, right?”

“It is,” Blake acknowledged. “And you’re right, I’m not Pyrrha, but… in the time that we’ve been apart, I’m not sure that I’ve thought about him.”

“Well, that… that’s not great, but nobody’s asking you to pine after the guy.”

“I would be willing to bet that he’s thought about me,” Blake murmured. “He deserves better.”

“What he deserves doesn’t matter if what he wants is you, does it?” Rainbow said. “So what do you want?”

Blake took a moment to reply. “I don’t want to hurt him,” she murmured.

“Then don’t,” Rainbow said.

“You said-”

“I know what I said, and what I said was true, even if it shouldn’t be,” said Rainbow Dash. “But you’re about to go on a mission to another continent where none of that is going to matter. And you’re only nineteen; nobody’s asking you to marry the guy.”

“He might,” Blake said darkly.

“And if he does, you tell him that you’re not ready and you want to just date for a bit longer and see how things work out,” Rainbow said. “I mean, you did have fun with him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then have fun, until either it stops being fun or it becomes something more,” Rainbow said. “Like Twilight does it.”

“Has it ever become something more for Twilight?”

“No,” Rainbow allowed. “But she’s had a lot of fun.”

“Hmm,” Blake murmured. “I think I might ask Twilight what she thinks about all this.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Rainbow acknowledged. “Just… don’t throw something away too quickly.”

Blake paused. “No,” she agreed. “I won’t. But we should probably get up on the roof now. Or is this just about delaying having to meet Robyn?”

Rainbow snorted. “Maybe a little,” she said, before turning her back on Blake and leading the way once more up the stairs.

They climbed the rest of the way, and as they climbed, they rose definitively above the smog, until by the time they gained the roof, they had risen above it as Atlas rose above the clouds, so that the dark layer of throat-staining pollutants gathered beneath them, a sea of toxins from which Blake was both glad to be free and apprehensive of descending into once again.

They found Robyn standing on the other side of the roof, her back to the both of them, one foot resting on the very ledge itself and a hand upon her hip. She too looked out towards the sea of smog that surrounded them, the waste of Mantle’s industries pooling like water all around.

She didn’t turn around, but as Blake and Rainbow Dash approached through the chimney stacks, she said, “I don’t recall asking you to bring a bodyguard.”

Rainbow scowled. Blake took another step forward. “Considering how we last met… Rainbow doesn’t trust you.”

“Is that right?” Robyn asked. “Or is it simply that you hate me because I betrayed the uniform?”

“Can it be both?” asked Rainbow, folding her arms.

Robyn was silent for a moment. “Do you mind if I call you 'Blake'?” she asked. “It rolls off the tongue more easily than 'Belladonna.'”

Blake hesitated. “Okay,” she allowed. “Can I call you Robyn?”

“It’s nicer than what a lot of your comrades would call me,” Robyn said. “Blake, do you know that every year, deaths from air pollution increase here in Mantle?”

Blake eyed the smog all around. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“It’s spreading,” Robyn said. “It used to be confined to the industrial districts – and the worst of it, that you can see here, is still confined here, but it’s spreading. It’s starting to block out the sky. It’s starting to poison the air. And it’s not just the refineries; it’s the trucks and the cars. Soon, it won’t be safe for children to play outside without poisoning themselves. Asthma diagnoses are also up year on year.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “That sounds… it sounds-”

“Terrible?”

“Like something the Council should take action on,” Blake said.

Robyn laughed bitterly. “You haven’t been here long enough, Blake, if you expect the Council to take action on behalf of Mantle.”

“That’s not fair!” Rainbow snapped. “A clean air law was passed the year before last.”

“So watered down as to be almost worthless,” Robyn replied. “Mantle is literally choking to death, and yet… and yet, if the refineries and the processing centres were to be shut down, if all of the chimneys ceased to billow, if everything that is poisoning the air were to disappear… Mantle would die anyway. This city is like a man who has a choice between starving to death or eating food he knows is laced with poison. He’s dead either way; it’s just a matter of how and when. And how much use can be gotten out of him by his jailer first, I guess.”

“You mean Atlas,” Blake said.

“I mean Atlas, I mean the SDC, I mean the military, I mean all of it,” Robyn declared. She turned away from the smog below her, and faced the two Atlesian specialists. “Rainbow Dash, do you remember when I came to your school to talk? To sell you kids upon what a great life it was in the Corps of Specialists?”

“I remember,” Rainbow murmured. “I was impressed.”

Robyn snorted. “I’m glad to see I made a good impression.”

“I’d better remember,” Rainbow said. “You singled me out afterwards.”

“That I did,” Robyn replied. “The General said you were one to watch out for.”

“Don’t call him that,” Rainbow snapped. “You don’t have the right, not anymore.”

“No,” Robyn murmured. “I suppose he isn’t my general any more, is he?”

“I should say not,” Rainbow growled, “and that’s on you.”

“Yes,” murmured Robyn, “yes, it is. I’m the one who walked away. That was my choice. How to handle it was everybody else’s choice.”

“What do you mean?” Blake asked softly.

Robyn stared at her for a moment. “What did I really do, to deserve to be vilified, reviled by my former comrades, to have ambushes laid to capture me?”

“You commit crimes!” Rainbow shouted, sounding incredulous that Robyn needed to ask.

“Or is my real crime that I dared to take off that uniform?” Robyn demanded. “Is it because I dared to walk away from paradise? We tell our children that Atlas is the greatest kingdom in the world, a shining city in the clouds, a beacon; we tell them that serving Atlas is the highest thing that they could ever do with their lives-”

“You make it sound so sinister,” Blake murmured.

“I went to a school and encouraged children to put on the white and die for Atlas; isn’t that sinister?” Robyn replied.

“Only two out of six did,” Rainbow muttered. “So either it’s not that bad, or you suck at your job.”

“The point is,” Robyn said, “that if Atlas is the greatest kingdom in Remnant, what does it say that there are people down in Mantle who want to leave it? That there are people who want to walk away from paradise? You can’t handle that, you can’t accept it, everybody should want to come to Atlas! That’s why you hate me: because I had the world offered me on a plate and had the temerity to refuse it.”

Rainbow scowled. “No, it’s because you betrayed good people like the General and spat on everything we stand for on the way out.”

“Why did you?” Blake asked. “Why did you leave the military? Why did you become an outlaw? Why did you decide to fight for Mantle?”

Robyn was silent a few moments. “When I came to your school, Rainbow Dash, I told you that the military was innocent of the broader crimes of the kingdom,” she said. “I told you that, whatever mistakes Atlas had made, whatever the SDC did, those mistakes and those disgraces didn’t touch the military. Our uniforms were spotless white, and the dust didn’t tarnish them. I was wrong. The military, the SDC, Atlas, it’s all connected; all part of a complex machine, each part feeding off the others. To be a part of any of it is to be complicit in all of it.”

“Do you really think that attacking the system from without is going to change anything?” asked Blake.

“Did you think that attacking the system was going to change anything when you were with the White Fang?” Robyn shot back with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Blake bowed her head, hugging her right arm with her left hand. “I… I hoped so, at first,” she admitted. She looked back up at Robyn, her ears drooping down into her wild black hair. “But I’m here because I realised that I was mistaken.”

“So you decided to work within the system?” Robyn asked. “To change it?”

Blake nodded. “I hope so, eventually.”

“'Eventually'? Some would say that justice deferred is justice denied.”

“Justice will always be denied if the only demands for justice come in the form of assaults on the state which can be endlessly repelled,” Blake countered. “And even if that weren’t the case, even if the White Fang could overthrow the kingdoms, even if you could bring down Atlas, at what cost? What about the lives lost, what about the lives ruined, at what point does it stop being justice and start to become revenge?”

Robyn frowned. “So you’re working within the system to save lives?”

“I’m a huntress,” Blake said. “That’s the heart of everything I do.”

“Of course it is,” Robyn murmured. She turned away and once more presented her back to the Specialists as she looked out across the sea of smog that gathered beneath her.

“Thank you, Blake,” she said quietly. “You’ve… helped me realise what I have to do.”

The forces of General Reeve were greatly preoccupied with trying to find the hideout of the Happy Huntresses, which they presumed to be some sort of secret base.

They were precisely wrong.

The hideout of the Happy Huntresses was a bar called The Green Tree, which Joanna had inherited from an uncle – yes, Joanna was, in terms of assets immediately on hand, the best off of the Huntresses by some distance, what with May having been disowned by her family. It was ‘closed for renovations’ and had been for some time; a small cut of the proceeds of their attacks upon Atlas went towards keeping the lights on and spared Joanna the need to work behind the bar, but for some reason, the fact that the bar was always closed had not raised any suspicions with the authorities.

Perhaps it was the fact that The Green Tree did look as though it could use some refurbishment. There was a crack in the wall that reached almost from floor to ceiling, and there were patches of damp on the floor from leaking pipes that ran along the ceiling. The tables and chairs were… not the cleanest either; there were stains on more of them than not. And the floor could do with a scrub. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so hard to work out why people could believe that this place was closed for legitimate reasons.

Plus, it was a sad fact of life in Mantle that a lot of places had been closed for a long time – and without the excuse that outlaws were hiding out there – and there wasn’t a rush of anything to replace them. Small businesses were folding up left and right, the lots going vacant because nobody could start up any new enterprises to take over the space.

This whole city was going to become filled with charity stores and betting shops at this rate, unless something was done.

Fortunately, Robyn was able to do something now, and the only cost… the only cost… the only cost, it seemed, was the respect of certain members of her crew.

“You can’t be serious about this!” May cried. “You… you just can’t.”

“I can,” Robyn replied. “I might even go further and say I must.”

Joanna Greenleaf folded her arms; she was the biggest of the Happy Huntresses in every respect, towering over even Robyn and broader in the shoulders too. The arms which she folded were ripped and corded with muscle. Her tone was softer and more patient than May’s. “I’m not sure if I like this either, Robyn. I mean… Jacques Schnee? He’s the cause of half the problems in this town.”

“Doesn’t that just mean he has the power to solve them, given the right incentive?” Robyn replied.

“You’re taking a lot on trust,” Joanna muttered.

“Maybe I am,” Robyn allowed. “But hasn’t that always been so? What’s sustained us but faith?”

“Faith in you,” May said sharply. “Not in Jacques Schnee or Atlesian officers that we don’t know.”

“You don’t seem to have a lot of faith in me right now,” Robyn observed.

May scowled. “Do you really think that Jacques Schnee or whoever holds his leash is going to give a damn about Mantle once he gets elected to the Council? I know these people, Robyn; they don’t give a damn-”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Robyn interrupted. “I’m not some naïve kid, May; I know that Jacques Schnee hasn’t been struck by a sudden attack of conscience. I also know that that doesn’t matter; it is on the table, and we need to grab it while it’s there.”

“How long is it going to be there?” May demanded.

“Maybe not for long, which is why we need to grab it.”

“You know what I mean!” May snapped. “What makes you trust a word they say?”

“Because they need me,” Robyn said. “They need my help. I can swing this election for them; no one else can do that.”

“And when you’ve won the election for them?” Joanna asked. “What’s to stop them from selling us out, and Mantle too?”

Robyn leaned on the table in front of her. She sighed, and as she sighed, she closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps I am being naïve. Perhaps this is just the last remnants of a part of me that was brought up to trust the system.

“Nothing,” she admitted. “But what’s the alternative? Walk back into our cells?”

“They’ve let us out now,” May pointed out.

“For now,” Robyn replied. “If I don’t give them what they want-”

May cut her off. “We got unlucky last time; next time, we’ll be more careful-”

“And then what?” Robyn said. “We keep doing what we’ve been doing, committing petty crimes and convincing ourselves that we’re making a difference?”

“'Convincing'?” May repeated. “What do you mean, ‘convincing’? We are making a difference!”

“Are we?” Robyn asked.

“Yes!” May shouted. “Every time someone walks out of the Doc’s clinic with a new prosthetic, that’s a victory.”

“A small victory,” Robyn muttered.

“Small victories are enough,” May replied.

“What if they’re not?” Robyn demanded. “We steal supplies, we redistribute what we can, and in the meantime, Mantle keeps on falling apart! What has changed since we started working together? What have we done? Reeve is still in the commander’s office, the air quality is getting worse, people are getting poorer, and there’s no sign that any of that is about to change… and it never was,” she added, looking away from her huntresses.

“Four people, even the best people that I’ve ever known, can’t beat Atlas. We can’t free this city, we can’t fix it; all we can do is…” She paused, unwilling to admit even to herself that she’d been wasting time. “I thought that if we raised awareness of the plight of Mantle that I could win election to the Council and start to work to change things for the better. But it’s clear from the polling that that isn’t happening.”

That, too, had been rather naïve hope. She did not, after all, have a well-funded campaign. She didn’t have a Hill for Mantle campaign headquarters with fifty interns badgering people on their scrolls to get out the vote. She didn’t even have campaign staff. All she had were three huntresses and a vanity born of the time when she had been the great hope of Atlas and all doors had lain open before her.

“You may not like this, May, but I don’t want to be fifty and still fighting these same battles. I don’t want you and Fiona to be my age and still be fighting these same battles. We need to work within the system.”

“The system is what caused all of these problems in the first place!” May yelled. “I’d rather fight for however long it takes-”

“This is not a game for a rich young girl to play!” Robyn snarled, rounding on her. “We are not here to indulge your adolescent rebellion while you work out your issues with your parents! This is not about how you feel, or how I feel, or how anyone feels about this. This is about Mantle and what is best for her.”

May’s blue eyes were wide. She took a step backwards, her mouth open. “'Adolescent rebellion'?”

I shouldn’t have said that. She didn’t deserve it. “May-” Robyn began.

“Well, thank you for telling me what you really think of me,” May said, turning away and beginning to walk rapidly towards the door.

“May!” Robyn called again, but it was too late; May had already made it out the door, slamming it behind her on the way out.

Robyn closed her eyes again. How the hell am I going to make that up to her? She shouldn’t have let her temper get the better of her. I could have sworn I used to be a better leader than this. She opened her eyes, glancing between Joanna and Fiona. “Fiona, you’ve been very quiet; what do you think?”

As Joanna was the tallest huntress, Fiona was the most diminutive by far, a small sheep faunus with ovine ears and white hair so fluffy it seemed almost fur-like. She said, “I trust you, Robyn; I’ll follow your lead. Although… you didn’t have to say that to May.”

“No, I probably didn’t,” Robyn admitted. “I’ll make it up to her.” I’ll try to, anyway. She forced herself to smile. “I’m glad you’re with me.” She glanced at the remaining member of the group. “Joanna?”

“Does it matter what I think?” asked Joanna.

“Of course it matters,” Robyn said.

“Does it matter enough that I could change your mind?”

“No,” Robyn admitted. “Sometimes, this team structure isn’t flat but mountainous, with me at the summit… but I’d like to know that you're behind me anyway.”

Joanna was silent for a moment. “Do you think this will work?”

“I don’t know,” Robyn replied. “What I do know is… I can’t win. I believe that this is the best way forward.”

“Then I’ve got your back,” Joanna said. “However this works out.”

“Thanks,” Robyn said. “I appreciate that.”

Joanna grinned. “Any time.”

“So… what happens now?” asked Fiona.

Robyn looked directly into the camera, hovering upon a drone at more or less eye level, and began to speak. “I’m not one for making speeches – perhaps it was a mistake to go into politics – so I’ll be brief. I entered this race for the vacant Council seat because I wanted nothing more than to represent the people of this great city of Mantle on the Council of the kingdom of which we are ostensibly a part. I was born here in Mantle; I grew up here in Mantle, and everything worth knowing, I learned not far away in Atlas but here, in Mantle, surrounded by the diverse, kind, hardworking people who make this city what it is. Mantle isn’t perfect, we all know that – that’s why I ran for office in the first place, to make it better – but for all its faults, I think that Mantle is still the greatest place on Remnant because it is home to the greatest people in Remnant.

“Mantle is more than just my home. It is my family, my song, and my soul, and nothing would have pleased me more than to represent her. Sadly, it has become clear to me that that is not going to happen, and therefore, with a heavy heart, I am withdrawing my candidacy for the Council seat. I would like to thank everyone who has supported me thus far, and I would like to tell them that although my candidacy is over, our struggle is not. I ran for the sake of Mantle, and I am withdrawing in part because I believe that there is a candidate in this election who will give Mantle the New Deal it needs to get back on its feet again and help all of you amazing people in this incredible city prosper as you deserve. It is for that reason that I am endorsing Jacques Schnee for the vacant Council seat,” – the reporter from ANN gasped audibly; Robyn ignored her as she went on – “and I urge everybody to get behind him, and let’s win this election for Mantle!

“Are there any questions?”

Guess Who's Back?

Guess Who’s Back?

May had heard Robyn speak plenty of times before: in bars and workers' clubs; on street corners, standing on a box, hoping to catch the ear of passersby; speaking to whatever camera would stand still long enough to pick up what she had to say – probably the most luxurious place May had ever heard Robyn speak was in an empty warehouse that had been between owners at the time, where they had built a stage so that Robyn could be seen above the crowd. May had heard Robyn speak plenty of times before, but never quite like this.

The stage upon which Robyn stood now was not something that had been cobbled together by the Happy Huntresses and a few supporters; what exactly it was made of was concealed beneath the blue cloth – emblazoned with the white snowflake of the SDC alternating with the gear-and-spear of Atlas – which covered it completely, but it was probably not made of discarded building materials scavenged from here and there across Mantle.

Nor was the location on which the stage had been erected the usual sort of place where Robyn Hill would have been found giving a speech. The stage had been set up in the middle of Nicky's Field, home of the Mantle Miners football team; it had once also played host to the occasional combat bout – this wasn't Mistral; they didn't have a dedicated colosseum for their fights – but those tended to be held in Atlas these days, which meant the field was just used for the football, for concerts sometimes… and occasionally for political rallies.

The stadium was big, big enough that when it had first been gifted to the city by Nicholas Schnee, so they said, one in five people in Mantle could have fitted inside of it. May wasn't quite sure if the population had gone up or down since then or if it had stayed the same, but either way, it was a pretty big place. And although, like everything else in Mantle, Nicky's Field was getting a little run down and in need of some touch-ups and renovations, that fact hadn't stopped it from being absolutely packed out. Every seat in every stand was occupied, a sea of faces from all directions looking down upon the stage or else looking up at the big screens that were displaying Robyn's face at four times actual size for anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck looking at her back.

This was the kind of event that they had only dreamed of up until now: a packed crowd, a stage amidst one of the biggest, grandest locations in Mantle. It was a dream come true.

And yet, it hardly felt that way at all. It felt almost more like a nightmare.

It felt that way because Robyn wasn't going up onto this stage in front of this crowd to speak for herself, but to open up for Jacques Schnee. He was standing beside the stage right now, waiting for his moment.

Jacques Schnee. Jacques Schnee! The man who was more responsible than anyone else for the decline into which Mantle had sunk, and yet, Robyn was backing him, and for what? For promises?

It was true that May hadn't been born in Mantle, she had grown up amidst wealth and privilege as a member of the Marigold family, but it was because of her privileged background that she could understand the change in attitudes amongst the very rich that had taken place over the last few generations. Men like Nicholas Schnee, men like her own grandfather Stefan Marigold who had established Marigold Foods and made his fortune with a lucrative contract to supply canned food to the forces, they had felt an obligation to give back to the communities that they had come from. Yes, that giving had often involved big buildings with their names on them – like Nicky's Field, in which they now stood, or Marigold Hall where there was a Midwinter party held each year – but they had still given back, still invested in the city, still tried to do good, even as they did well. The generation that had come after them, like Jacques Schnee and May's parents, didn't care about that; in fact, no, not only did they not care about it, you'd have to pry any lien to help out Mantle from their cold dead hands. The rich all lived in Atlas now, hoarding the wealth they leached from Mantle, using it only to build ever larger and more extravagant mansions for themselves, surrounded by ever larger plots of empty land, simply to show that they were rich enough to afford land and then do nothing with it. And all the while, Mantle sank deeper and deeper into misery.

And yet, now, he was supposed to be Mantle's saviour? Jacques Schnee was going to fix everything? Give her a break.

May frowned. She stood in one of the tunnels leading out onto the field, one of the tunnels through which the Miners would have entered if there'd been a game on that day. She leaned against the bare concrete wall, her fingertips idly tracing the pockmarks and unevenness of the cold surface, and watched Robyn.

She got it. She wasn't clueless or naïve, and she didn't think of all this as just some game, no matter what Robyn had said to her. She understood that… she understood the lack of real results, she understood the odds stacked up against them, she understood the power that their opponents possessed; it wasn't like she thought the four of them were one day going to storm the Mantle headquarters and truss up Reeve and then everyone would have a big party in the street. But she also understood that they were doing good, that they were helping people every day; it might only be a little help, but a little help was better than no help at all, it seemed to her.

In truth, while she enjoyed hearing Robyn speak, and would never have been bold enough to say so under ordinary circumstances, she had been a little dubious about the idea of Robyn running for Council in the first place; how was she going to help Mantle when she was spending all her time amidst the glittering towers of Atlas? How was she going to help keep the Doc's clinic afloat when she was mired in politics? Robyn was a good person, a much better person than May's parents, but May had seen first-hand how the luxuries of the shining city in the clouds could have an intoxicating effect on people, could blind them to the fact that there was a whole world beyond Atlas which did not enjoy such luxuries and which was crying out for opportunity.

A part of May had always worried that sitting on the Council would mean nothing more than Robyn losing the opportunity to do good down on the streets, and although Robyn had withdrawn her Council bid, that she had done so at the behest of Jacques Schnee and his coterie, and in exchange for the favours that they had promised her… May was afraid that power would do nothing more than box Robyn in.

Robyn thought otherwise, of course. May would have liked to have trusted her about that. Perhaps she ought to trust her, the way that Fiona and Joanna did, but neither of them understood Atlas the way that May did; Fiona was Mantle born and bred, Joanna's parents had been soldiers constantly on the move across Remnant; neither of them had set foot in Atlas except at the Academy, and the academy was emphatically not the city. If all you saw of the Kingdom of Atlas was Atlas Academy, then you might come away with the impression – as Blake Belladonna, another outsider, had done – that Atlas was basically full of good people: flawed, a little short-sighted in certain areas, but brave, righteous, and honourable. Whereas if you grew up in the city of Atlas, as May had, you understood that those good people were far outnumbered by self-centred jackasses whose indifference to the suffering of others was made all the worse by being tinged with nigh unbearable self-righteousness, as though they had worked for their success instead of inheriting it, and all the problems of others could be attributed solely to their own folly and idleness.

And those were the people Robyn was in bed with now.

May wished she could have seen any good that would come of it.

But she could not.

Robyn was wrapping up her speech now. "And so, here to introduce a New Deal for Mantle, I give you the next member of the Atlesian Council, Jacques Schnee!"

A song by Weiss Schnee – May thought it might be It's My Turn, but she wasn't the biggest fan, and the Schnee Heiress' songs tended to blur together a bit in her head – began to play as Jacques Schnee strode up onto the stage, shaking Robyn's hand as she made way for him. Jacques took his place behind a podium with 'Rebuild Mantle, Save Atlas' emblazoned on the front as thunderous applause deluged him from every corner of the stadium, drowning out his daughter's voice and the accompanying music.

Jacques waited for the applause and the cheering to die down. "Thank you, thank you all," he said, in a voice that May couldn't help but find oily and unpleasant. "I'm delighted to be here in this great city of Mantle."

More cheering. Jacques once again stopped and waited for it to die down, waving occasionally to the crowd, keeping a smile fixed on his face, as best as you could tell from beneath that walrus moustache anyway. Only once the crowd in the stadium was nearly quiet again did he continue.

"Yes, I'm delighted to be here not just in Mantle, but in Nicky's Field, a gift to this city by my father-in-law, Nicholas Schnee. Now, I grew up without a father, but I was lucky enough to find one in old Nick: a great man, a man I could emulate, a man I could aspire to be like. A teacher, a mentor, a good friend. Now my father said… my father-in-law said to me once, he said, 'Son, treat your workers like family, and they'll always come through for you.' And that's why…"

May frowned, tuning him out as she began to turn away. There was no point sticking around to listen to vacuous drivel like that. She wasn't even sure why she'd come here in the first place.

Maybe she'd been hoping that Robyn wouldn't go through with it in the end.

She turned around and nearly walked into Gia Smoketree coming the other way.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked.

May took an involuntary step backwards. "Arriving so late?" she responded.

Gia ignored that. “I… I hoped I’d find you here,” she said.

“You found me; congratulations,” May muttered. “Excuse me.” She started to walk around the other woman, only to be stopped by a hand upon her arm. The grip was gentle, but with a suggestion that it could become firmer, if need be.

Gia stared into May’s eyes. “What happened to you, May?”

“What happened to me?” May repeated.

“You used to be kind,” Gia said softly. “Kind to me, anyway. Kind to a girl with no family, no friends. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

May hesitated. “I’m honestly not sure what to say about that.”

Gia chuckled. She let go of May’s arm. “Is there no way that we can be… how we were?”

“We were never how you wanted us to be,” May reminded her.

“Not yet,” Gia allowed. “But we’re on the same side now-”

“I doubt that very much,” May said.

Gia smirked. “Wasn’t that your glorious leader who just introduced Jacques Schnee to the crowd?”

“Yes,” May admitted through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean that I have to like it, less that I have to think of myself as a part of it.”

“You don’t have to like it, that’s fine,” Gia granted graciously. “But whether you like it or not, this alliance is happening. Right now, right here. There’s no way that Robyn can back out now. And that means that we don’t have to be enemies anymore.” She paused. “For my part, I never considered you my enemy.”

“I’m not sure your boss would be pleased to hear that,” May said.

Gia smiled. She glanced down at her polished boots. “Do you know what people think that you’re doing right now?”

May folded her arms. “All the people I know think that I’m here, helping how I can.”

“I mean the people who matter!” Gia said dismissively. “People in Atlas, society, your own circle.”

“That was never my circle,” May declared.

“No?” Gia asked. “You could have fooled me. You always moved through that world with such grace, such confidence. That was what I admired about you. I was grateful for your compassion, I appreciated your strength and skill, but what I admired… what I admired about you was the way that nothing seemed to get to you. You didn’t struggle to fit in, you didn’t have to hide any part of yourself or pretend to be someone else, you… you belonged. You owned the room. Nobody could look at anyone or anything but you, so long as you were there.”

May was silent for a moment. “You get that that was all fake, right? That was all… a mask. You think I wasn’t struggling the whole time?”

Gia, too, hesitated. “I know,” she said softly. “But all the same… do you remember the New Years’ party that you took me to, at your parents’ place? You… you hadn’t come out to them yet, but you decided-”

“I decided ‘to hell with it,’ I wasn’t going to hide any more,” May murmured.

“And you wore the most stunning dress that I had ever seen in my life,” Gia went on, “and you wouldn’t let me see you until you were done; you kicked me out while you were getting ready, and I had to go change in Team Aurora’s dorm room.“

“I’m sorry; I didn’t want to see me while I was…” May trailed off for a moment. “While I was… changing.”

“I’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as you did on that night,” Gia whispered. “Never.”

May looked away. “That was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean that it cannot come again,” Gia insisted. “The Happy Huntresses are done now, you get that, right? They’re done. There’s no need for them anymore. The deal is done: Robyn will get everything that she wanted on a plate. No more crime; no more hiding in the shadows. You can step back out into the light where you belong. Do you think that Robyn will need your help when she has the whole of the Mantle office to call on?”

“I am a graduated huntress, you know,” May reminded him. “Maybe I’ll join the military and work under Robyn that way.”

Gia snorted. “I’d like that. You and me, together again, just like old times back at the academy.” She paused. “People think you might be dead.”

May blinked. “People… did my parents tell everyone I’m dead?”

“Well, you can’t expect them to tell people that you’re… this,” Gia muttered, waving one hand dismissively. “But no, your parents told everyone that you were on a world tour. They even had someone take over your social media accounts and post doctored photographs of you in locations across Remnant.” She grinned. “I’m glad you found Mistral so spiritually renewing.”

May rolled her eyes.

“You were in Vale, as it were, when the battle began,” Gia said earnestly. “Now the story is that… nobody knows what the story is. You might be dead, or you might have missed the evacuation flights out and be stranded there. With the CCT down, there’s no way to know for sure. If you come home, it will be a miracle.”

May’s eyes narrowed. “I… I’ve been a Happy Huntress for years now, I didn’t just start last week; have they been paying to cover that up?”

“Yes,” Gia said. “Although… it wasn’t out of pure concern for my career that they recommended me to General Reeve. If I can’t convince you to come home, then I can at least keep your name out of any official documentation, anything that might identify you as one of them.” She paused. “I think that might warrant at least a ‘thank you,’ don’t you?”

“I’m not the one who’s ashamed of where I am or what I’m doing.”

“Only someone who grew up coddled by wealth and status could speak of ‘shame’ as something that is of so little consequence, rather than something that is as life and death as… as life and death,” Gia replied. “You are an insurgent against the Kingdom of Atlas; if that got out, it could ruin your parents socially, blacken the Marigold name for good, cast Henry out of society forever; is that what you want? Would you really subject them to that? Bring them all down out of sheer spite?”

May hesitated. “No,” she murmured. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Her parents were deeply, deeply flawed, and they were making Henry in their image, but at the same time… they were still her family, and whatever they had done to her, that didn’t mean that she wished ill on them, still less harm. That wasn’t why she had come down to Mantle. She was here because she believed in the cause, not because she was trying to spite or wound anybody.

But she would not thank Gia for it either. She hadn’t asked for this, and she would not be grateful for it.

“I never understood why you got involved in all this in the first place,” Gia said.

May snorted. “That was always the difference between us,” she said. “I wanted to help people. You only wanted to help yourself.”

Gia’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m sorry, but all those parties and dinners that you took me to, the whole glittering world of the Atlas elite, was I never supposed to want a piece of that for myself? Was I not supposed to want to become a part of it? Or was I supposed to accept that all of that would be forever out of my reach except as a treat occasionally fed to me by Marigold generosity?”

I took you there to make it more bearable for me by having a friend there, May thought, although she was self-aware enough to realise that wouldn’t sound so great if she said it out loud.

Gia stepped forward, forcing May to take a step backwards.“You were born with everything, absolutely everything that you ever wanted or could wish for-”

“Except for being able to feel like I was who I was supposed to be,” May said.

Gia ignored her. She stepped forward again, and once more, May retreated. “And you have the audacity, the absolute gall, to look down on me for wanting something, anything! You have no idea what it’s like to grow up with nothing at all!” Her hands clenched into fists as she took another step, forcing May back against the tunnel wall. “Where do you get off judging me for wanting to make something of myself instead of throwing everything you had away!”

“Is everything okay?” Blake asked as she sauntered down the tunnels. The tails of her long white coat trailed after a little as she walked with a slow, considered, graceful tread. Her long, wild black hair waved behind her a little.

Gia glared at her. “Yes it is, Specialist, but thank you for checking.”

Blake’s golden eyes narrowed as she glanced between Gia and May. “Are you sure?”

Gia inhaled through her nostrils. “The name is Smoketree. Captain Smoketree.” She paused, expectant. When Blake didn’t react, Gia snapped, “Haven’t you learned yet to salute a superior officer?”

“As I understand it, a salute is a sign of respect,” Blake said dryly.

A hiss of anger escaped from Gia’s mouth, and her hand strayed towards the hilt of her sword.

Blake did likewise, reaching to draw her blade across her back. “That’s what I thought,” she said softly.

Gia glared at Blake, and for a moment, May thought that she really would draw her sword and attack her, but then a wave of applause erupted from the crowd in the stadium in response to something that Jacques Schnee had said, and the noise recalled Gia to her senses. Or at least, to her sense of where she was and what was going; she probably realised it wouldn’t look good to start a fight in the middle of Jacques Schnee’s campaign rally.

She slowly moved her hand away from her sword. “You’re insolent, Belladonna.”

Blake did not move her hand. She simply said, “I’ve been called worse.”

Gia’s face twitched with irritation. May watched her visibly attempting to mask how angry she was, attempting to subsume her anger beneath an appearance of calm and tranquillity. It was something that she’d been a lot better at when they were at the Academy; rank, it seemed, had given her license to indulge her temper more.

Nevertheless, when she turned back to May, it was almost as if she wasn’t bothered. She gently reached out and took May’s hand, raising it to her lips. “May,” she murmured. “Always a delight.”

She let May’s hand fall and began to walk away. The sound of her boots echoed in the tunnel as loud as the applause.

As she drew level with Blake, she stopped. “I don’t know whether it’s your exalted birth, General Ironwood’s favour, or the fact that you’re currently flavour of the month with the media that leads you to put such airs and graces on, but if I were you, I’d learn your place, and learn it quickly. A princess of savages is still a savage, and the press will forget you soon enough.”

Blake eyed her. “And General Ironwood’s favour?”

Gia smirked. “Sic transit gloria mundi,” she said. “Do you know what that means?”

“'Thus passeth all earthly glory,'” Blake replied.

“Exactly,” Gia said, and with that, she resumed walking, leaving May and Blake behind in the tunnel.

Blake glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Gia really had gone. Then she approached May. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice concerned and considerate in equal measure.

“I’m fine,” May replied. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I disagree,” Blake said. “I… I know a danger sign when I see one.”

May hesitated for a moment. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Blake paused a moment. “Who is she?”

“My old partner from the Academy,” May replied. “I went one way, she went another.”

“I… see,” Blake murmured.

“Really?”

“No,” Blake admitted. “But… it’s not my place to pry into your past or your affairs. You’re safe; that’s all that matters.”

“For now,” May said. “You’ve made an enemy, you get that, right?”

“I’ve made more dangerous enemies than her,” Blake said.

“Is that supposed to sound cool?”

“No,” Blake answered. “It’s just the truth.”

May stared at her for a moment, but Blake gave nothing away. “Fair enough, I guess,” she said softly. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I… I suppose I wanted to see it for myself,” Blake confessed. “Even though I haven’t been here very long, from what I understand… it’s a lot to take in.”

“You think it’s a lot to take in?” May asked. “It’s not because you’re new, trust me; I’ve lived here for years in the thick of this, and I’m still finding it a lot to take in.” Her eyes narrowed. “I blame you for this. I know that Robyn spoke to you.”

“If I’d known this was what she was talking about…” Blake trailed off. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“So it is your fault.”

“No, I… if you could blame me, would it help?”

May drew in a deep breath, and then let out an equally deep sigh. “No,” she growled.

Blake folded her arms as the two of them drifted back towards the tunnel mouth, where Jacques Schnee was continuing his speech.

“We’re going to bring so many great jobs down here that you’ll all be spoiled for choice!”

“Do you believe him?” Blake asked.

“No,” May answered curtly.

“But Robyn does?”

May did not immediately respond. “Robyn… you spoke to Robyn yourself, you know what she’s thinking.”

“She wants to win,” Blake murmured. “But sometimes, the price of victory is too high to bear. I hope she doesn’t find that out first hand.”

“I’m not sure this will be a victory at all,” May replied. “There’s a catch; I just can’t work out what it is.”

Blake frowned. “If Schnee wins-”

“When he wins,” May interrupted. “The fix is in; that was the whole point of getting Robyn on side in the first place. They know she can deliver the votes.”

“So sure about that?”

“I live here, remember?” May said. “You and your Atlas military friends may not think much of Robyn, but a lot of people trust her word more than anything or anyone else.” I would have been one of them, until this. “They trust her. And now, they trust Jacques Schnee.”

“If you say so,” Blake said, not sceptically but matter-of-factly. “In that case, when Schnee wins, what do you think this will mean for Mantle?”

May thought about it for a moment. “Honestly? Nothing. It will mean nothing because nothing will change. Reeve might get promoted out of this city, Robyn might get welcomed back into the military, she might even the big office here in Mantle, but she won’t get the resources she needs to actually make changes around here, and she’ll get blamed for the fact that nothing is getting better because she’s the one on the ground supposed to be running things. If I’m right, it’s ingenious in how vile it is.” She paused. “What do you think it will mean for Atlas?”

Now it was Blake’s turn to think about it. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I don’t expect anything good.”

"Listen, Miss Weiss," Silver Spoon said excitedly. "They're playing your song!"

"Mhm," Weiss said, through gritted teeth, keeping her opinions firmly to herself.

It was indeed her song. Her father was walking on stage to the sound of It's My Turn, one of her empowerment ballads, artfully cut in such a way as to remove all of the ways in which she had, as brazenly as she dared, implied it was about her relationship to her father, rendering it into something like a rallying cry for the dispossessed. There was still a degree of irony in that to which Father, the wealthiest man in the whole of Remnant, appeared to be blind… but then, the crowd appeared to be blind to it as well as they cheered enthusiastically for Father's entrance.

Her song. Her song, and he was just using it as though it belonged to him, as though she belonged to him, sweeping her up in his campaign without a second thought, much less a request to see if she minded or not. He had no more asked her if she agreed to this any more than he asked her to attend his parties and his dinners with his supporters. She might not be up on the stage with him, but she was still a prop in his campaign arsenal.

She clasped her hands together in her lap and attempted to ignore the sharp pangs of irritation which she felt. It wouldn't do to show it in front of Whitley's guests. Silver Spoon appeared to think she should be flattered, and for all Weiss knew, Diamond Tiara might feel the same way. If they found out or began to suspect that she felt otherwise… why raise the questions?

Best to try and ignore it, to try and let it all roll over her. There were only a few more days remaining, and then she would be gone, away from here, on her way to Mistral with Blake and Rainbow Dash.

Only a few more days.

Weiss glanced at Whitley and the other girls; while Weiss sat in an armchair in the sitting room, Whitley, Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon were sharing a plush, royal blue settee. Whitley sat on one end, with Diamond Tiara snuggled up beside him, her feet tucked up on the cushion, while Silver Spoon sat more conventionally beside her. Weiss wasn't sure why they were watching the broadcast of Father's rally, still less why Whitley had insisted that she watch it with them; apparently, it was 'expected,' but although Weiss was quite sure that Father would expect it, she couldn't imagine Klein telling on them if they did not. Perhaps there would be a quiz later.

She hoped not; Father hadn't even begun to speak yet, and she was already finding it a struggle to concentrate. Her thoughts kept flying south to Mistral and to the wars to come that waited there.

That reminded her, she would have to say goodbye to Flash; she didn't want to leave him without a word of explanation, and she wanted… well, she wanted to ask him to wait for her, although if he didn't wish to, she would understand.

She needed to ask, however; she trusted him not to say anything that might get back to Father before she left.

It was a pity he couldn't come with them, but his rank and responsibilities to the Council were not so easily shirked as her complete lack of same.

Weiss attempted to focus as Father, having waited for the tumultuous applause to die down, began to speak.

"…Now, I grew up without a father, but I was lucky enough to find one in old Nick: a great man-"

Weiss got to her feet. He dared? He… he dared? Bad enough that he had usurped her grandfather's company, taken his name and proceeded to drag it into the gutter, trampled upon everything that the SDC had stood for at its foundation, and now, he dared, he presumed to take up her grandfather's Mantle, to speak of him as a father, to talk about him as though they had been anything alike? And to talk about the workers as his family? Considering how he treated his own family, that was… sadly, not inappropriate.

Weiss could stand no more of this. It was bad enough to take her music and twist it into something it was never meant to be, but to then spread these lies about her grandfather, about the family… she could not swallow such disingenuousness, she would not sit here and suffer it.

"Weiss?" Whitley asked.

"Excuse me," Weiss said, in a small, prim voice, her heels clicking upon the polished tiles as she stalked between Whitley, his guests, and the television, walking around the sofa and heading to the door.

Her chin was up and her back was straight as she left the room, marching down the hall with more appearance of direction than she felt. Perhaps she would go down to the kitchen and see if Klein was there, or she would just repair to her room and count the days until she could put all this behind her. She turned a corner, making for the stairs.

"Weiss!" Whitley's voice was not too loud, but it was emphatic.

Weiss stopped and half-turned towards her brother as he approached her.

"You should come back," he said quietly.

"Why?" Weiss demanded. "Why should I listen to that? Why did you want me to listen to that in the first place?"

"Because it's foolish to upset Father," Whitley said quietly.

"And who will tell him that I wasn't watching?" Weiss replied. "You? Your girlfriend?"

"If Father asks you what you thought of his speech, it would be better if you'd actually seen the speech, don't you think?" Whitley suggested.

"Some things cost too high a price," Weiss replied. "I'm done caring what Father thinks."

"Don't be naïve; you're not at Beacon anymore," Whitley reminded her.

"I'm well aware of that," Weiss said.

"He almost stopped you seeing your friends already, have you forgotten that?" Whitley asked. "What if he actually followed through with it, what if he stopped you from seeing Flash? Had you not considered that?"

Weiss hesitated for a moment, wondering how much she dared to tell Whitley. They had not always been close as children, but since her return… he had been nothing but decent to her, and he seemed to feel the same way that she did about some things, if not everything. "What Father thinks, or doesn't, won't be a problem for me for much longer."

Whitley's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Weiss spoke quietly, even if there was nobody around to eavesdrop. "I'm leaving soon, in a few days at most. I'm going to Mistral, with Blake and Rainbow Dash and a couple of others; they've been assigned a mission there, and they've asked me to join them."

Whitley stared at her. "Mistral?" he said. "You… you're leaving?"

"I'm going to do my part for Atlas."

"You're leaving again!" Whitley snapped. "I thought that after what happened in Vale, things would be different this time, but… you haven't changed at all, have you? I should tell Father all about this!"

"No!" Weiss gasped. "Why would you do that?"

Whitley stared at her in exasperation. "You have no idea what it's like for me here, do you? You waltzed off to Beacon, and you never looked back."

"I-"

"I don't have the hereditary Schnee semblance," Whitley told her. "The birthright of our family, and it passed me by. I am… I'm too much Father's son, it seems."

"You're nothing like Father," Weiss murmured. "Even though… sometimes, it seems as if you're trying to be."

"Of course I am," Whitley told her. "What else do I have? I can't go to Atlas where General Ironwood and his serried ranks can protect me from Father; I can't go to another kingdom beyond his reach. I'm stuck here, all alone, with them. You left me, you both left me alone with them. All I can do is please Father. If he finds out that I knew what you were planning and didn't say anything-"

"I'm sorry," Weiss said quickly. "I… I should have thought, I should have… you're right. I left, and I didn't consider what it meant that I was leaving you behind with… with both our parents. I should have thought about what that meant, and so should Winter. But, please, Whitley, if you say anything… this isn't just about me getting out of here, it isn't even about me getting to do something useful, this is about the good of Atlas and Mistral." She recognised that that was a hard argument to make for someone who was facing rather more immediate consequences close to home, so she added. "You're not alone, Whitley, Winter-"

"Doesn't care about me," Whitley said with a look that suggested he was no longer sure if Weiss cared about him either.

"Diamond Tiara-"

"Do you honestly expect her to give me a second look once Father cuts me off?" Whitley demanded.

"Is that what you think?"

Whitley froze. Weiss did too. Over Whitley's shoulder, she saw Diamond Tiara round the corner from around which, having no doubt followed Whitley out, she had been able to overhear… how much? Almost anything would be more than Weiss was entirely comfortable with, although the other girl didn't seem particularly interested in Weiss right now. Her attention, the livid gaze of her blue eyes, was entirely fixed on Whitley as she stalked towards him.

Around the corner, Weiss could see the other girl, Silver Spoon, peeking; she, at least, was still trying not to be seen.

Diamond Tiara's hands were balled up at her sides as she bore primly down on Whitley. "Is that what you think?" she demanded a second time. "That I'm just here for your money? For your expensive gifts?"

"I-"

"I have money of my own, you know!" Diamond Tiara declared proudly. "If I wanted diamonds, I could just ask my Daddy to get me some! I'm not some gold-digging tramp looking for the easy life! Shame on you, Whitley Schnee!" She raised her hand as if to slap him.

Whitley recoiled, turning his face away, half-bringing up his thin arm to shield himself from the blow. Diamond Tiara stopped, her eyes widening. For a moment, she was still, frozen in place with her hand raised, just as Whitley was frozen waiting for the expected blow.

But the blow did not land. Instead, Diamond Tiara lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing his head upon her shoulder.

"Even if you are disowned and disinherited," she whispered softly into his ear, "you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"But," Whitley murmured. "Your mother-"

"I," Diamond Tiara said firmly, "am not my mother." She pressed her cheek against his. "And after all, my semblance is getting people to do whatever I want, so if the worst comes to pass, I'll take care of everything." Her tone made it hard to tell if she was joking about her semblance or not. She looked at Weiss from over Whitley's shoulder. "And as for you, Miss Weiss… I won't pretend to understand why you'd want to leave Atlas and risk your life, but no one will hear about it from me."

"From either of us," Silver Spoon added, stepping out from hiding.

"Thank you," Weiss said, "both of you." She smiled at Diamond Tiara, still embracing Whitley. "Take care of him."

"Of course," Diamond Tiara said proudly. "Someone has to."

Weiss did not reply; in all honesty, it was probably less than she deserved.

And good on Whitley, for finding someone to say it.

I may have left you behind, but you seem to have done alright for yourself.

Even if you didn't realise it till now.

Blake walked briskly across the docking pad to where Rainbow’s airship, distinguished by its bright paint job, was sitting waiting for her. She could see Rainbow sitting in the cockpit, waiting for her every bit as much as the airship itself, but as she climbed the docking ramp into the craft, she found that – contrary to when she had left the airship – Rainbow wasn’t the only one inside.

“Sun?”

“Hey,” Sun said, his voice subdued. “Twilight told me that I’d find you here.”

“How did you… did you stow away somewhere again?” Blake asked.

“No!” Sun replied quickly. “I got a Skybus. I even paid for a ticket. Well, Lady Nikos paid for a ticket, because she’s got all the money, but someone paid!” He paused. “I thought… maybe we could talk, you know?”

Blake nodded, without much expression on her face. “Sure,” she agreed. “Rainbow Dash, I’m going to ride back here for the flight back, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Rainbow called from out of the cockpit. “Buckle up, both of you.”

Blake wasn’t sure that was entirely necessary, but it was Rainbow’s airship and, thus, Rainbow’s rules; she and Sun sat down on the same bench next to one another, and both buckled up their seatbelts as the ramp folded up inside the airship and the side door slid closed.

Through the side window, Blake could just about make out Mantle disappearing beneath them as the airship rose into the sky.

She glanced at Sun. “So… how’s Neptune?”

“Oh, Neptune’s great,” Sun declared. “Well, his mom kinda kicked him out of the house for supporting Pyrrha-”

“What? Really?”

Sun nodded. “People are worried,” he said.

“There’s a lot of things for them to be worried about, but that doesn’t explain why Neptune should be disowned for trying to do something about them,” Blake replied.

“No, they’re not worried about those things,” Sun explained. “They’re worried that Pyrrha’s going to take over the kingdom.”

Blake stared at him. “So they aren’t worried about the things that they should be worried about, but they are worried about things that are ridiculous.”

“I guess?” Sun agreed. “Although they don’t know about the things that they should really be worried about.”

Blake frowned. “Do you… do you feel like I should have told you?”

“I’m glad someone did,” Sun admitted. “But I get it. From the way I hear it, you weren’t exactly supposed to know yourself.”

“I’m not sure how much that’s actually true,” Blake replied. “From what I understand, I think Professor Ozpin expected Sunset and the others to tell me everything.”

“Wasn’t it supposed to be a big secret?”

“Yes,” Blake allowed. “But obviously, it wasn’t a complete secret, or Ozpin would never have told anybody.” She paused. “How did it feel, when you found out?”

Sun tucked his hands behind his head. He shrugged. “I dunno.”

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “You… don’t know?”

“Come on, Blake, it’s not like you’re asking me if I like raisins in my oatmeal,” Sun said. “To which the answer is-”

“You don’t like oatmeal,” Blake answered. She smiled slightly. “I remember. You prefer porridge, with banana, and you know that’s a stereotype, but you don’t care because it's delicious.”

Sun glanced away from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember,” he murmured.

“I was always paying attention,” Blake said softly. She hesitated for a moment. “So, um, you were saying?”

“Oh, right, yeah, the whole 'we’re all gonna die' thing-”

“We’re not going to die, Sun,” Blake said. “Well, okay, yes, we are all going to die, someday, but we’re not all going to be killed by Salem. Not if we make the right moves, anyway.”

“Doesn’t she have a magic crown that lets her make all the right moves herself?”

“If she knew all the right moves, we’d be dead already, don’t you think?” Blake replied. “I don’t know how the Relic works, but there must be limitations. Clearly, you’ve thought about this a little bit, in spite of how you acted just now.”

“I never said I hadn’t thought about it,” Sun said. “I just don’t know how to think about it, if that makes sense. It’s just… it’s too big, you know? I can’t get my arms around it. It’s… it’s too big. So I just focus on the small stuff, like the people I can help, the good I can do.”

“You sound a little like May,” Blake murmured.

“Who?”

“The girl that I was here to meet,” Blake explained. “May Marigold of the Happy Huntresses.”

“Aren’t they the bad guys?”

“You’ve been talking to Rainbow Dash,” Blake observed.

“You weren’t here when I showed up,” Sun pointed out.

“The Happy Huntresses break the law, that’s true, but… that doesn’t mean that they aren’t moved by an earnest belief in their cause.”

“So were the White Fang,” Sun said.

“And the White Fang…” Blake trailed off, stopping herself from saying ‘and the White Fang had a point’ in favour of rephrasing. “That doesn’t mean that there aren’t real issues that the Huntresses, like the White Fang, are trying to highlight. They’re both going about it in the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean that their causes should be dismissed out of hand.”

“So what’s the problem?” Sun asked.

“Mantle is poor,” Blake said. “It’s suffering from underinvestment as money flows out of Mantle in taxes but doesn’t come back from Atlas; the SDC and the kingdom itself are the only major employers left in town, but the mines are drying up, so even the SDC might not stick around for much longer, and if they pull out, the only people with jobs will be the people who work for Atlas, either in the civil or military administrations. And they don’t have enough money to keep the city’s economy afloat, and everyone else is going to hate them even more than they already do. And I have no idea what the answers to all of this are, but if I’m serious about rising in this kingdom-”

“Are you?” Sun asked. “Serious?”

Blake was silent for a moment. She felt as though they were coming close to it, to the moment when… it was too soon, it was all happening too soon, she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Twilight her advice yet. “So… if Neptune got thrown out by his family, how is he doing great?”

“What? Oh, because he and Ditzy are together now,” Sun said brightly. “Well, Neptune says they’re not ‘together-together,’ but it’s pretty obvious, if you know what I mean.”

“Ditzy has a boyfriend?!” Rainbow exclaimed from the cockpit.

“Rainbow Dash!” Blake snapped.

“Sorry, sorry, private conversation, gotcha,” Rainbow said. “You know, a lot of the special features that we added to this airship when we were fixing up are pretty obvious, like all the guns; but one thing that is not so obvious to the untrained eye is that this Skyray now has a kickass sound system, perfect for warning off unwanted eavesdropping. So hang on just a second.”

She must have done something up in the cockpit, because the entire airship began to fill with the sound of strummed guitar, followed by the voice of a singer raised in song.

You were in college working part time, waiting tables,

Left a small town, never looked back,

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin’

Wonderin’ why we bother with love, if it never lasts.

“You like this song?” Blake called.

“Of course I like this song,” Rainbow shouted back. “Who doesn’t love Tailor, huh?”

Blake could dimly hear her starting to hum along as the airship flew across the icy wastes to Atlas.

Blake returned her attention to Sun. “Can you still hear me?” she asked. “I don’t really want to have to shout.”

“I think that would make it kind of pointless Rainbow putting the music on,” Sun replied. “Don’t worry; I can hear you just fine.”

“Good,” Blake said. “That… that’s good.” She paused, no, she hesitated. She had good reason to hesitate. “You know how Pyrrha can say ‘I’ve always thought it was my destiny to save the world’ and not sound completely full of herself?”

“…yeah?”

“I wish I knew how she does that; it would make this so much easier,” Blake said. “I never wanted to save the world. I always thought that saving the world, like so many heroes did in so many stories, was always so… conservative. Saving the world, and then what? Things just keep on going exactly as they were before? But what about all the problems that meant the world was in jeopardy in the first place? What about changing the world, what about making it better than it was before?

“One of my earliest memories was attending a White Fang rally, back in the days when my father was running the organisation. I don’t remember what my dad said, but what I do remember is the energy in the crowd, this feeling like… like anything was possible, like we could reshape Remnant if we wanted to, like we could transform the kingdoms into something better, fairer. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I’ve always wanted. That’s why I stayed in the White Fang even when my parents left, because I still wanted to change the world, and I was willing to embrace methods that my parents found unpalatable to do it.

“After I left the White Fang, when I first went to Beacon… I couldn’t tell you how I thought that becoming a huntress was going to help me do any of that. I never admitted it, not even to myself, but I think that for a while… I gave up on that dream. It was only after I became friends with Rainbow and started to grow closer to the Atlesians that I began to see another way, a path that I could walk to use my skills and work towards that old dream at the same time: to become a Specialist, to climb the ladder, to achieve real power, to help get other faunus in the room, just like Antonio advocates for.

“Sun… there will never be a time when I can put you ahead of what I’m doing here in Atlas.”

“I know,” Sun said.

Blake blinked. “You… you know?”

“I mean, it was always kind of obvious,” Sun told her. “You were always a ‘mission-first’ kind of woman.”

“And it never bothered you?”

“Should it have?” Sun asked. “It wasn’t like you were cheating.”

“Some people might say I’ve been cheating on you with Atlas.”

“Morons, maybe,” Sun said. “Look, Blake, there were some things that were pretty obvious about you pretty much from the moment we met. If you remember, the very first night we met, as soon as you found out there was going to be a White Fang raid on the docks, you started plotting to go down there and stop it, no matter how dangerous it was. And that… that’s kind of what I liked about you.”

“You can’t possibly have known that when you handed me that umbrella.”

“No,” Sun allowed. “I just knew you were in trouble. But later… if you weren’t so passionate, if you weren’t so determined, if you didn’t give a hundred percent, if you didn’t run straight towards your dreams… you wouldn’t be Blake Belladonna, and if you weren’t Blake, then… then I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I’m not asking you to put me first, I’m not asking you to give up the path you’re on; all I’m asking is that you let me stay by your side because… because you’re my sun, and I need you like plants need the light.”

Blake stared at him. “I don’t deserve you,” she said, and she had no idea how he was able to hear her over the music, so softly did she speak.

He grinned. “Well, if you don’t, then no one does.”

Blake covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that otherwise would have escaped her. “Well, that is very sweet… and also a matter of opinion.” She sighed. “A princess of savages is still a savage.”

“Huh?”

“Something an officer that I met said to me today,” Blake explained.

“They sound charming.”

“Mmm,” Blake agreed. “The point is… my ambition is to change Atlas and Remnant, but until I do, while I’m getting there… no one will ever let you forget what you are or where you come from. Are you okay with that?”

“Are you?” Sun asked. “Or am I going to hold you back?”

“I-”

“You can be honest,” Sun said.

Blake’s jaw tightened. “It’s a possibility.”

Sun was quiet for a moment. “What if…” He stopped, then after a moment began again. “What about those Happy Huntresses? Do you think they’d take a Happy Huntsman?”

“You want to join the Happy Huntresses?”

“You said that I sounded like one of them,” Sun pointed out. “Let me guess, they don’t know how to fix Mantle, but they’re just helping out, focussing on the things they can do.”

“Pretty much,” Blake said. “Robyn, their leader… I think there’s the idea of a plan, but ultimately, yes, it comes down to helping out. Or it did, anyway. Now that Robyn is supporting Jacques Schnee, I don’t know where that leaves the Huntresses.”

“Maybe I can start my own group,” Sun suggested. “I mean, it’s not like I can actually help you to find any of the answers to the big problems, but maybe I can help out with the small stuff around Mantle, and the kingdom, while you figure all this stuff out.”

“And where would that leave us?” Blake asked.

“Whatever you want us to be,” Sun said. “Allies who share-”

“A bed?”

“I was going to say a bond, but that’s not to say we can’t hook up sometimes.”

Blake laughed. “You… you’d really do all that, just to be near me?”

“I’d do all that to help you,” Sun said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Blake stared into those guileless blue eyes. Where else am I going to find someone who accepts me so completely and utterly for who I am, without a single note of hesitation? Gently, she reached out and took him by the hand, “You know,” she said, “whatever the future holds for us in Atlas, we’re going to be in Mistral for a while first. Where I won’t be an Atlesian officer with her reputation to think of.”

“While I’ll be one of Pyrrha Nikos’ Myrmidons, a hero of Mistral,” Sun said. “Or something like that anyway.”

“The point being,” Blake went on, “that while we’re there, I’m sure that nobody would mind if we were to share-”

“A bond?”

“Something like that.”

Three weeks earlier…

“Without wishing to appear ungrateful, there seems little need for you to have come and seen us off,” Ciel said. “I am sure you must have many pressing responsibilities.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Twilight said, waving one hand dismissively. “I can take a little break. I just wanted to see how you would… I mean I wanted to see you leave.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ciel glanced from Twilight to Penny, who was bouncing softly on the balls of her feet. “Really? Somehow I doubt that.”

“We’re just really excited,” Penny said. “I mean, I’m excited to set off on my big tour!” She gasped. “Look! There’s the airship.”

“I have ears,” Ciel said, for she heard the airship’s engines as well as any of them and could see the Skyray as well as they could too as it swooped in towards the docking pad. The pilot was clearly a bit of a show-off, because they performed a completely unnecessary victory roll as they came in before descending smoothly onto the platform.

There was a moment’s pause before the ramp descended and the side door opened to reveal Thunderlane.

“So,” he said, “I don’t suppose this means we can have our second date a little sooner than we thought?”

Ciel’s eyes widened. “Thunderlane?”

“I was as surprised as you when I got the orders to replace your pilot on the tour,” Thunderlane said, leaping down from the airship. “But orders are orders, especially when they’re orders that I like.” He grinned.

Ciel stared at him. “Will you pardon me, just one moment?” she said before turning to look at Penny and Twilight. “You two had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

Twilight smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Now…

“I must confess,” Ciel said, “that at that moment, I was somewhat irritated at their behaviour.”

“You were hoping to get away from me?” Thunderlane asked lightly, amusement in his tone.

“No,” Ciel replied quickly. “But it is not their place to interfere in my romantic relationships… and in any case, I disapprove on principle of… I do not know how they did it, whether they spoke to the General or Twilight meddled with the official records, but in any case, I dislike the idea of using personal influence to change postings and orders for personal benefit. It smacks of corruption.”

“If that’s true, then doesn’t that make the whole system corrupt?” Thunderlane asked. “I mean, everybody does it.”

“That does not make it right,” Ciel replied.

“Didn’t you only meet the Dragonslayer in the first place because General Ironwood knew you already and trusted you to be a safe pair of hands?” Thunderlane asked.

Ciel felt her face flush. She cleared her throat. “Yes, well… can I not wish that we had a… purer system, even while I have been a beneficiary of its impurities?”

Thunderlane shrugged. “I don’t see any way around it,” he said. “Unless you’re going to have… I don’t know, AIs or something deciding all the promotions and who goes where, then so long as the choices are made by people, then personal preference is always going to have something to do with it.” He paused. “And based on Penny, I think even if you did have AIs making the choices, then personal preference would still have a lot to do with it.”

Ciel covered her mouth demurely to suppress a chuckle. “Yes, Penny is… I take your point on that, at least. And in any case, it would be remiss of me not to add at this point that… I am glad that they did what they did.”

Thunderlane smiled at her. “You mean you’re glad I’m here?”

“I’m glad we didn’t leave it at our first date,” Ciel confirmed.

The broken moon shone down upon them both as they walked through the grounds of Canterlot Combat School. It might have seemed a strange place for them to be, but after dinner, neither of them had wanted to go back to their hotel rooms yet, and yet, in a small town such as this, there was not a great deal to do. The Combat School dominated all. And yet, despite its martial purpose, it had a quite excellent set of gardens; as Principal Celestia had described them earlier, generations of students had built them up over time, and as they were now, they were a very pleasant place to take a walk, arm in arm, with the moonlight falling upon them.

Thunderlane drew her in closer. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I can fly you from town to town as well as anyone-”

“Some might call it a waste of your talents,” Ciel murmured.

“Flying you and Penny from town to town would be a waste of the talents of any pilot worth their salt,” Thunderlane pointed out. “So it might as well be me wasting my talents as anyone else. The tour is going well, and we’re going well, so what’s the problem?”

“No problem,” Ciel conceded. “Far from it.” She leaned against his arm. “As I said… I am glad, very glad, that you’re here.”

Thunderlane tucked one of his dark wings around her shoulders. “I’m glad that I don’t have to worry about all the men that you might meet on this tour while I’m stuck at base.”

“You do not trust me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Thunderlane replied. “I just have… a sense of my own limitations.”

“A sense too humble, by far,” Ciel murmured. “Pilots are supposed to be vain of their dashing qualities, are they not?”

Thunderlane chuckled. “Human pilots, maybe,” he said. He paused for a moment. “It’s weird, you know.”

“Not unless you explain, I’m afraid,” Ciel said.

“Being on this tour with you and Penny,” Thunderlane said. “It’s like… it’s as if I’m seeing two sides of this kingdom. Or at least, I’m seeing one side of it out here with you: the rapturous crowds that come out for Penny, the donations… I mean it seems to be going pretty well.”

“I am not privy to the financial minutia myself, but nothing that I have heard indicates any displeasure,” Ciel replied.

Thunderlane nodded. “And then, when we watch the news, there’s the other side of the kingdom, the side that looks like it’s going to elect Jacques Schnee onto the Council. It’s almost hard to believe they’re the same place, you know?”

“You are not a fan of Mister Schnee,” Ciel said.

“That… that’s a fair way of putting it,” Thunderlane acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be either.”

“Indeed, I am not,” Ciel replied dryly. “Although it must be acknowledged that the SDC has been a help to the military technologically… I feel as though we could have done as much in-house, and probably cheaper too, were it not for the influence the SDC possesses enabling them to get a foot in the door. I sometimes wonder why Jacques Schnee wants to be on the Council; he was not without influence on it already.”

“It sounds as though he’s tired of working with the military,” Thunderlane muttered. “Maybe it’s selfish to be worried about this, but I’m afraid that if he gets on the Council… if we start mothballing ships and squadrons to save money-”

“One man, even one man on the Council, cannot make those kinds of cuts to the establishment,” Ciel assured him.

“But if people are willing to elect one man like that, why not more down the line?” Thunderlane asked her. “I just… I’m a faunus, and I’m a double amputee: two reasons why I’ll be one of the first on the chopping block if they start rolling back the strength.” He paused. “I… I don’t know what I’d do if they won’t let me fly any more.”

“That will not happen,” Ciel declared.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because…” Ciel hesitated for a moment. “Because I will use whatever influence I have to ensure that it does not.”

Thunderlane looked down at her. “Benefiting from the… impurities of the system?”

“While the system remains impure, why should I not?” Ciel asked. “As you say, it is not as though others will be abstaining. And besides, allowing you to be discharged because of your race or the sacrifice that you have already made for Atlas… it would hardly be in the best interest of the kingdom.”

“Not something I ever thought I’d think would be one of the sweetest things that anyone has ever said to me, but,” Thunderlane bent down and kissed her, “thank you.”

“Thank me not for a promise,” Ciel told him. “Especially not one that I very much hope I will not have to fulfill. I hope it will not come to that. I hope that Atlas will not show itself… I wish for this kingdom to be better than that. I would rather not see it elect a man who spits on the military despite having not served a day in uniform, who attacks… everything that Atlas is supposed to stand for, a man who would have us turn our backs and hide from… I am sorry, I’m beginning to rant.”

Thunderlane laughed. “Don’t apologise; it was actually getting… kind of magnificent.”

“As my boyfriend, do you feel you have to say things like that?”

“As your boyfriend, I have to tell you the truth,” Thunderlane replied. “And the truth is… I agree. I don’t want to wonder what it means that people want a man like that on the Council. I don’t want to have to wonder what changed or-”

“Or whether nothing changed,” Ciel murmured. “Or whether it was there all along.”

A silence descended upon the pair of them.

“Well, that turned into a downer, didn’t it?” Thunderlane asked. “Let’s… I don’t want the night to end like that; let’s see if we can’t find something, somewhere, a little more fun to put this behind us, huh?”

“I’ve no objection,” Ciel said. “Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“Not a clue,” Thunderlane admitted. “Let’s just take a look, huh? There must be somewhere.”

They left the gardens, crossing the open courtyard in front of the school. In the moonlight, the statue of the horse mounted atop the central plinth gleamed brilliant white.

As they were passing before the statue, Ciel and Thunderlane were halted when one side of the plinth glowed brightly, shimmering for a moment like water as Sunset Shimmer stumbled out of the plinth itself to land flat on her face upon the ground.

“What the-?” Thunderlane exclaimed.

“Sunset?” Ciel gasped.

Sunset rose to her feet. “That’s the same as it was the last time,” she muttered. She held her hands up in front of her. “Fingers.” She paused. “Toes.” She ran her hands through her hair, touching her twitching equine ears. “Four ears. Again.” She pumped one arm, and felt her biceps with the other. “I was kind of hoping that with that new strength, I’d come back toned like Pyrrha. Pity.” She sighed. “Looks like I’m just like I was before. On the outside, anyway.”

“Sunset?!” Ciel cried, more loudly this time.

Sunset’s ears pricked up. She turned around. “Oh, hey Ciel,” she said. A slightly nervous laugh escaped her lips. “So… who’s the guy?”

Welcome Home

Welcome Home

The portal to Equestria lay before her. She could not see it; the darkness of the cave, augmented by the gloom of late afternoon, obscured all that might lie within, and yet, Robyn said that there was the portal, and Sunset believed her.

The alternative was the portal had closed of its own accord – wild magic was unpredictable that way – and that if Sunset walked into that cave, she would find nothing except a cold stone wall to bang her head on, and that was not a prospect upon which she wished to dwell. And not just for the sake of her head, either; what would she do then, go back to Freeport and beg Ruby for a boat? And if boats there were none, then what?

And what about going home?

What, what indeed, about going home?

Sunset did not believe that the portal had actually closed. For one thing, as they approached, they had seen the evidence of magic continuing to seep into Remnant into Equestria, not least the way the undergrowth had been moving to protect the cave. They had to carve a way through to reach this place; that would not happen if the way were shut. No, the portal was here, even if she couldn't see it.

The portal was here. Her way home was here. Her way… her way back.

It was funny; not too long ago, she thought that she had stopped considering Equestria home. Equestria was the place that had birthed her, Canterlot was the place that had molded her, but at the same time… it had stopped being home to her. Not so much because of longevity – four years in the other Canterlot, and it had never become home to her; unless you were so unfortunate as to be born into misery and never escape, you had to like a place somewhat before you called it home – but Beacon… Beacon had been different. Beacon had been home to her, Beacon had displaced Equestria, the Emerald Tower replacing the gleaming golden spires of Canterlot, the SAPR dorm room replacing her old room in the palace, the grounds, the statue… the people. The people who had made Beacon what it was, who had made a home for her: Pyrrha, Jaune, Blake, Ruby… all gone now.

All, all gone. The Emerald Tower was fallen, Beacon was half in ruins and closed to students, and the people… scattered throughout Remnant: Blake to Atlas, Pyrrha and Jaune to Mistral, Ruby… well, some time away from Ruby would be good for both of them.

It pained her, but perhaps that made it more true.

Beacon could not be her home anymore for the simple reason that it was gone, and everything that made it home gone with it. Where, then, was Sunset's home? Lady Nikos' house in Mistral? It was where Pyrrha was, hopefully, but… what was home, what made a home, what purpose did it serve?

Home was… home was warmth, home was comfort, home was good cheer, home was… home was safety. Home was somewhere to go back to at the end of a dark day, somewhere to put your cares and troubles aside, somewhere to rest… and then to set out from once again, refreshed and renewed in body and spirit.

Home, then, was Equestria. A home to which she would return, and rest for just a little while, and then go forth once more.

She wanted this, she needed this, a part of her had dreamt of this, and yet, at the same time, now that she stood before the cave in which dark depths the portal dwelt, Sunset felt so unsure of this.

To go home, to go to Equestria, to leave the struggle behind, if only for a little while, to abandon Ruby and Pyrrha and all the rest to fight their battles in Freeport and in Mistral, to put aside Salem and the grimm and Professor Ozpin and everything else, to take her rest while no other had that luxury, to flee in a way no other could. Had she that right? Could she afford to do this?

Could she afford not to?

She needed this. She needed this. Sunset took a deep breath, bowing her head so that it rested upon the cold metal of her cuirass. She felt stretched, she felt ground down, she felt tired, she felt so very tired.

It felt as though she had hardly had a chance to take a breath in such a long time. From Mountain Glenn and everything that had happened there, then that whole business with Merlot, then Amber, the Battle of Vale, rushing from pillar to post at Cardin's behest, putting out this fire or that, and then this march across the breadth of eastern Sanus, battling monstrous grimm, enduring Ruby's constant needling and pricking of her conscience while trying desperately to mend fences with her… she had been so tired that she had been willing to give up everything, partly on the promises that Dawn had given to her but also… also because she had been so tired.

They did not have the right to all of her, surely. Whatever her fault, whatever her obligations, they could not demand that she give herself up wholly and completely to this cause until she was ground down by it? Had she not earned a brief respite from the struggle?

They did not have the right to all of her, any more than they had had the right to ask Pyrrha to climb into that infernal machine and sacrifice her life so that some chimera-entity could arise as the new Fall Maiden.

She needed this, and they had no right to deny it to her. But did she have the right to claim it for herself. After everything that she had done, did she have the right to go home? She was a killer, she had gunned down Adam Taurus, she had sought his death for some time before she gunned him down, she had taken life. Did someone like her, a killer, have the right to go Equestria, if only for a little while? Might she not pollute it with her… she would not say sin, but rather her, her uncleanness. Might she not stain Princess Celestia's pristine white coat and alabaster feathers?

"The Princess was very sorry to see you go," Robyn said, her words intruding into Sunset's thoughts.

Sunset glanced at her. How long have I been standing here, that my thoughts are so obvious? "Excuse me?"

"Princess Celestia always regretted your departure," Robyn told her. "She regretted having to send you away, and even more, she regretted that you left Equestria and… well, came here."

Once, those words would have provoked a bitterness in Sunset, but not anymore. There was no fire in her to say or even think that if Princess Celestia hadn't wanted her to go, then she could have simply not sent her away in the first place.

All there was now was a degree of gratitude… and sufficient mischief left remaining in her that Sunset could manage to muster a smirk and say, "Well, if your guards hadn't been so incompetent at their jobs, then I wouldn't have gotten away from them and ended up here, would I?"

Robyn glared at her, inhaling through her nostrils. Then she released that breath and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I can't argue with that," she conceded. "My point is-"

"I know what your point is," Sunset replied. "And I… I thank you for it." She faced the impenetrable darkness of the cave once more. She took a deep breath. "Okay, this is it."

"Yeah," Cardin half-moaned, half-murmured. "This is it."

"Are you worried about this?" Lyra asked.

"Are you not worried about this?" Cardin replied. "We're going to be literally changing our bodies."

"We literally change bodies all the time," Bon Bon pointed out. "It's why we don't look like babies, still."

"That's not the same thing," Cardin said sharply.

"Either way, I'm not worried," Lyra said. "This is going to be great!"

"We'll see," Sunset muttered. She glanced at Cinder. "Are you-?"

"All I ask is that my form in this new world be suitably impressive," Cinder said. "If I am transformed into some common creature, I shall be very disappointed." A smile pricked at one corner of her mouth. "It would be very nice to have magic again, if only for a little while."

"I'm afraid I can't promise anything," Sunset said. She didn't know what Cinder's counterpart on the other side of the mirror was; trying to find out would have involved revealing Cinder's birth name, and she had no wish to do that to her.

"I have faith that destiny will recognise my worth," Cinder declared. She chuckled, as much to herself as anything else. "I believe that you ought to go first," she added, gesturing ahead of her and into the cave with its attendant darkness.

Sunset smiled, only a little tightly, and adjusted Sol Invictus upon her shoulder. With one hand, she reached up for the hilt of Soteria. She wondered, having not really given it much thought before, what would happen to her weapons when she crossed over. Hopefully it wouldn’t damage them – she didn’t know how she’d explain it to Lady Nikos.

Still, that was something to worry about later, if at all.

Sunset took a step forward, then another, then another, and her steps seemed to grow lighter with every pace she took as she strode forwards, stepping over the vines that grew out of the ground, stepping out of the dying light of the sun, stepping into the darkness of the cave.

A chill breeze licked at her face and hands. Sunset pressed on, not bothering to cast a night vision spell or magelight, merely walking forwards through the darkness, trusting that, before she could walk face-first into a wall, she would find-

Suddenly, there was nothing beneath her feet. Sunset’s expectation of something like this could not prevent a gasp from escaping her lips as she found herself falling, tail streaming out behind her, hair flying all around her face, tumbling head over heels into a lightless void which suddenly became far less lightless. Suddenly, the world was filled with pink light, a swirling vortex of pink currents spiralling downwards, carrying Sunset with them. For a moment, she felt herself spun over and over, pulled headfirst and carried in the currents of the vortex. Then she… she no longer felt anything at all. This had been the most terrifying part of her initial journey, when Sunset had lost all feeling in her body, unable to move her hooves, unable to speak, unable to do or touch or feel; the moment when her body disappeared, leaving only thought, a disembodied consciousness in search of the form waiting for it on the other side. It was not so alarming now that she knew what to expect, but that didn’t mean that Sunset liked it any better as her hands, her feet, her clothes, her weapons, all disappeared, leaving only the mind of Sunset Shimmer travelling downwards, pulled in a circular descent towards… towards home.

And then she could feel again, but not as she had felt before; now, she could feel the air upon her coat, feel the magic surging in her so much more strongly than it had ever done before, feel the solid and digitless hooves upon the ends of her limbs as Sunset was hurled out of the portal and belly-flopped onto the dusty ground.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked at the hooves on the end of her forelegs. It wasn’t even like she could feel her fingers or toes but couldn’t move them; she couldn’t feel them at all for the obvious reason that they weren’t there.

And it was really weird. Over the last six years, she’d gotten used to having hands and feet, to having fingers and toes, to being able to have a way of manipulating the world around her that was denied to her now, that had been taken from her, if only for a little while.

It was like having her hands cut off and no option for an Atlesian prosthetic.

It was weird, and weirder still because this was her state of nature. This was how she had been born, this was how she had grown up, this was how she had interacted with the world for the first years of her life.

“To think,” she murmured aloud, “that there was a time when this seemed normal.”

“As opposed to what?” Twilight asked.

Of course it wasn’t… yes, it was Twilight Sparkle that Sunset saw, standing over her, looking down with a friendly smile upon her face – Sunset recognised the voice immediately – but it wasn’t Twilight Sparkle. This was Princess Twilight Sparkle, Sunset’s correspondent, finally revealed in the coat and the mane.

She wasn’t wearing spectacles, which was a little surprising. And her coat was lavender, which Sunset hadn’t been expecting – although if she’d thought about it, she wouldn’t have been able to say what colour she had expected Princess Twilight’s coat to be – but other than that, she looked very much as Sunset had expected her to look: the same eyes, the streak of pink in her mane, the same bangs, although Princess Twilight curled her mane at the shoulders, which her human counterpart did not do.

And, of course, she was an alicorn, a unicorn horn rising proudly out of her mane even as a pair of wings were presently tucked in against her flanks.

Sunset tried to rise onto her hooves. It was more difficult than she had expected; she was six years out of practice with being a quadruped, and she was a little unsteady on her newly-regained equine limbs. The joints didn’t bend the same way that she was used to now, and she didn’t have as much grip. Her trembling legs betrayed her, and she landed flat on her stomach again.

“Do you need some help?” Princess Twilight asked, offering one lavender hoof.

Sunset took it, wrapping her own hoof – it was, at least, more dextrous than it seemed to look on – around the princess’ own and allowing her to help her.

“Thanks,” Sunset muttered as she started to feel as though she could stand without falling over. “Princess Twilight Sparkle, I presume?”

Princess Twilight’s smile widened. “Princess Sunset Shimmer, I take it?”

Sunset blinked. Of course. If she could do those things, if she had those powers in Remnant, then that must mean… she could feel them. She could feel them just behind her shoulders.

She did not look. She was almost… almost afraid to look, afraid that if she looked, then it would turn out that they weren’t actually there at all, and she’d just been misinterpreting an itch or something.

She looked at Princess Twilight instead. “Are they-?”

Twilight nodded briskly. “Congratulations.”

Sunset looked behind her and to her right. An amber wing, the feathers the same colour as her coat, rested gently against her flank. She looked to her left, where it was the same story.

Sunset gasped. Her mouth fell open. Her green eyes widened as she unfurled her wings, the amber feathers rising outwards, extending from her body like… well, like wings. Experimentally, gently at first, Sunset flapped them, moving them back and forth more rapidly, and as she flapped, a childlike laugh escaped her lips, a laugh that only grew louder as her furious flapping bore her upwards a few inches off the ground.

“I have wings!” Sunset yelled. “I’ve got wings! I can fly now! I’m an a-”

She suddenly stopped flying and found herself dropping the short distance back down onto the ground.

The fact the distance was short did not make it any less humiliating.

“It takes some getting used to,” Princess Twilight consoled her as she helped Sunset up again. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not sure that I’ll be here that long,” Sunset murmured. “But thank you for soothing my injured pride.”

The smile didn’t waver from Twilight’s face. “How does it feel?”

Sunset thought for a moment. “You… you have no idea how long I spent dreaming of these,” she said. “The symbol of…” – she laughed, and she could not keep her laughter from being tinged with bitterness – “the symbol of my success. My triumph. I don’t feel particularly triumphant.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she had done to earn the wings, whether it was saving Amber – she had noticed that her powers were beginning to grow stronger around that time – or saving Cinder, but the former at least… Amber had betrayed them, killed Professor Ozpin, and in the end, died anyway, but not before delivering a Relic to Salem. If that was what she was being rewarded for… there was something rather hollow in it.

I would rather ascend for saving Cinder; there, at least, is something I can point to and say ‘yes, I did that, and I would do it again without a second’s hesitation.’

Twilight frowned. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” She paused. “If I may… it seems sometimes as if some of your friends are hard enough on you as it is.”

Sunset was in little doubt as to whom Twilight was referring. “It’s… it’s all over with now. In the past. It… it doesn’t matter anymore.”

She waved one hoof airily, as though by that alone, she could dismiss everything that had passed between them. We’re better now, and time and distance will make us better still.

“Still, you probably shouldn’t call me 'princess.' I haven’t… I haven’t been crowned, for one thing, and for another…” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “And for another, I haven’t earned it.” She smiled. “And for a third thing, what would I be princess of?”

“You’re allowed to figure that out too,” Twilight pointed out.

“I still haven’t figured out my cutie mark yet, let alone what I’d be as a princess, even if I was one,” Sunset replied. She paused. It had not escaped her notice that Twilight was the only pony around here. “Princess-”

“Please, Twilight will do fine.”

“So will Sunset,” Sunset replied. “Okay, Twilight… where’s… where’s Princess Celestia?”

If it turned out that she hadn’t wanted to come, that she hadn’t cared enough, that it didn’t really matter to her whether Sunset came home or not, then… well, safe to say that Sunset wouldn’t be getting the rest she’d been hoping for here.

“Nearby,” Twilight assured her. “She thought that your friends might want to adjust to their new bodies in private without too many ponies watching. Where are your friends, anyway?”

Sunset looked around. The other side of the wild portal between Remnant and Equestria also lay within the mouth of a cave – although it must have been much closer to the mouth, considering that Sunset had been thrown clear out of the cave and into the open ground beyond – rising up out of a low rocky mound.

Sunset said, "Hopefully, they-" She was cut off by the sound of two voices crying out, shortly before a pair of figures emerged from out of the cave – Twilight and Sunset hastily made way – to land flat on their faces in front of it.

They opened their eyes. Their bodies looked completely different, their forms had changed, they were different colours than they had been before, but their eyes, their eyes gave them away.

It was by the eyes that Sunset could see that Cardin was an earth pony, large and powerfully-built, with a square jaw and a blockish, angular form; like his blue eyes, his mane had retained its brown colour, although not its usual shape; although it was quite short by pony standards, he no longer possessed the peak in which he wore it usually.

To be honest, Sunset was inclined to say that that was an improvement; she didn't know why he wore his hair like that anyway.

Cinder, meanwhile…

"Well, that was unexpected," Twilight murmured.

"A little bit," Sunset murmured. "Yeah."

Cinder was a dragon. A small dragon, so that as she got up onto her feet, she was only a little larger than the ponies around her, but a dragon nonetheless. Her scales were ruby red and polished to a brilliant sheen so that she looked like a gemstone brought to life; a pair of fiery amber horns rose from the top of her head, a little crooked in places, like the antlers of a deer, while spikes of the same ran down her back all the way to the end of her long tail. Surprisingly, she had retained her jet black hair, which had also retained its length and shape, right down to falling naturally over one of Cinder's eyes. A pair of wings sprouted from out of her back.

Cinder stood up, brushing herself off lightly as she looked down at Sunset. She had a long mouth, like a crocodile snout, and it made the smile that played upon her features look even more smug than it would have upon her human face. "Well, don't you look cute enough to cuddle?" she observed, in a voice that suggested she was making some effort not to laugh.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You didn't think I was cute before?"

"Not… quite the word I would have chosen," Cinder replied, before she turned her attention to her own appearance, holding up one hand and stretching out her fingers. "I, on the other hand, do not appear to look like you."

"No, but you did get your wish about transforming into something impressive," Sunset said. "You're a dragon, Cinder."

"I have always been a dragon," Cinder purred, petting her hair with one red, scaly hand. "I don't suppose anyone has a mirror to hand… or hoof?"

"Here," Twilight said, and her horn flared with a lavender aura as she popped open one of the saddle bags that she was wearing across her back – pale blue and marked with the six-pointed star of her cutie mark – and levitated a mirror out of it and through the air over to Cinder.

Cinder embraced the handle of the mirror in one hand, holding it up to examine her face from all angles, brushing the hair out of her eye so that she could see better. "Hmm. Well, it… I won't regret getting back to normal, but in the meantime… yes, I think this will do." She paused, lowering the mirror. "Wait a moment… if I'm a dragon, then…" She fell silent and turned away from Sunset and Princess Twilight, seeming to be concentrating upon something. Her chest rose and fell, before Cinder opened her mouth, and a great burst of flame gushed outwards and into the air. Cinder's smouldering eyes widened as the flame was followed by a triumphant cry. "Yes! Oh, yes! Fire once more at my command!"

"Are we going to have a problem?" Twilight whispered into Sunset's ear.

Cinder chuckled. "Forgive me, Princess Twilight-"

"Just Twilight will be fine."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "You're a princess; why wouldn't you want to make people acknowledge it at every possible opportunity?"

"Because I don't need my ego stroked?" Princess Twilight suggested.

"I see," Cinder murmured dryly. "In any case, I hope you will pardon me a little glee at having fire once more at my command again, if only for a little while."

Sunset frowned and looked away. She felt… responsible for Cinder's present condition. Cinder had given up her magic, the power that she had sought for so long, given it up to Sunset, and Sunset, in turn, had given it up to Pyrrha. She stood by that decision, but at the same time, she could not deny that it had left Cinder herself powerless, especially by comparison with Sunset herself.

Small wonder that fact grated on her; she did very well not to show it in the ordinary course of things; perhaps Princess Twilight or Princess Celestia could help her find a solution.

One that didn't involve Cinder accepting her new lot in life.

"Good for you," Cardin muttered as he managed to find his hooves at last, rising unsteadily up off the ground. "But… what am I now?"

"You're an earth pony," Sunset explained, and it was the turn of her own horn to glow green as she levitated the mirror – likewise wrapped in a green glow – and floated it over to his face.

"Right," Cardin muttered. "Do I get any neat powers?"

"You're stronger than you were, and you have an innate connection to the land," Sunset offered.

"So that's a 'no,' then?"

"Yeah."

"There's nothing wrong with being an earth pony," Princess Twilight insisted.

"I bet some of your best friends are earth ponies," Cinder suggested archly.

"They are, as it happens, but you needn't say it like that," Princess Twilight replied. "Earth ponies-"

"Seem very ordinary to visitors," Sunset said. "I understand; I promise that no one whom I bring here will look down on anypony else because of their kind, but you have to appreciate that… to outsiders, the magic of unicorns and pegasi is extraordinary, it's outside of their experience of what's possible. Yes, it's normal to you, and to everypony else, and so nopony makes a big deal about having magic or being able to manipulate the weather the same way that no one in Remnant makes a big deal about having hands. But when I first went to Remnant, I found that having hands was quite a big deal for me."

"And now?" Twilight asked.

Sunset smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to lord my wings and horn over everypony else." She paused. "Anyway, it occurs to me that I have been very remiss when it comes to introductions: Twilight, allow me to present Cinder Fall and Cardin Winchester. Cinder, Cardin, allow me to introduce the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle."

Cardin bowed his head. "Princess, thank you for having us."

"Please, just call me Twilight," Twilight begged, for the third time since Sunset had emerged. "And weren't there supposed to be more of you? Where's Robyn-?"

Lyra and Bon Bon tumbled through the portal; Robyn Hill swiftly followed, although she managed to avoid the tumbling, instead soaring out over the heads of the prone ponies to land easily next to Princess Twilight.

Show off, thought Sunset.

Bon Bon, her mane retaining its two-tone colour and most of its shape and general fluffiness, even as her coat had coloured itself in a pale yellow like vanilla custard, opened her eyes. Those same eyes widened as she beheld the others. "You… you've all changed," she observed weakly.

"So have you," Cinder pointed out.

Bon Bon looked at her own hoof. A sound that was almost, but not quite, a whimper escaped her lips.

"I told you this would happen," Sunset pointed out.

"I wasn't sure whether to believe you or not," Bon Bon muttered. She twisted her head around to look at Lyra. "You said we probably wouldn't change!"

"Well, Meghan Williams didn't change, did she?" Lyra replied. "How was I to know it would be different for us. Why was it different for us?"

"Perhaps it wasn't different, and Ms. Williams didn't mention transforming into a pony because she was aware that her credibility would be tenuous enough without that little detail?" Sunset suggested.

"That… makes a depressing amount of sense," Lyra conceded. She looked herself up and down. "Still, I think this looks pretty cool."

"Really?" Bon Bon murmured.

"Yeah!" Lyra cried. "We're in another world! We've been transformed into otherworldly creatures! This is so awesome!"

"Say that when you next want to pick something up," Bon Bon replied, as she got up. She stared at the horn poking out of Lyra's pale mane.

"What?" Lyra asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"In a manner of speaking," Bon Bon said, reaching out with one hoof to poke at Lyra's horn.

"Oh," Lyra gasped, backing away a step. "I felt that! How did I feel that?"

"You're a unicorn," Sunset explained. "You have a horn. You can use it to do magic."

"Magic?" Lyra cried. "I can do magic?" She beamed for a few seconds. "Wait, how do I do magic?"

"I have neither the time nor the inclination to teach you," Sunset declared magisterially. "But I'm sure you'll figure it out by yourself."

"Do I have one of those?" Bon Bon asked, waving her hoof in the air above her head as she fumbled for some trace of it.

"No, you don't; you're an earth pony," Sunset explained.

"Can I do magic?"

"No," Sunset replied. "But you do have a connection to nature and the land."

"That sucks."

"I wish you'd stop saying that," Princess Twilight muttered.

"Come on, Bon Bon," Lyra said, bouncing up and down on all four hooves. "Once I learn how to do magic, I'll be able to do enough for both of us."

"That will be nice for you, I'm sure."

"Stop doing that!" Lyra snapped.

"Doing what?"

"Being such a downer!" Lyra yelled. "We have a chance to start over. A whole new world! Nobody knows us, nobody knows who we are, nobody knows that we betrayed Beacon or anything else. We can be whole new people here. We can be… we can be whoever we want to be. And who knows? Maybe we'll find other portals to whole different worlds, just out there, waiting for us!"

"I hope not," Princess Twilight said.

Lyra ignored her. "Just imagine it, Bon Bon: two losers from Canterlot, exploring the multiverse, seeing things that no one had ever seen, doing things that no one has ever done! Do you think Rainbow Dash will ever do something that cool? We have the chance to be free, to be really free in a way that almost no one ever is, to truly leave our pasts behind and make our futures. Doesn't that sound… wonderful? Doesn't that sound like something worth giving up fingers for?"

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. She looked into Lyra's eyes, and then down at the ground, and then back up at Lyra. "Well… when you put it as idyllically as that…" She looked at Sunset. "So… are we free?"

Princess Twilight took a step forward. "Here in Equestria, we believe in letting bygones be bygones. Whatever mistakes you may have made in Remnant are behind you now. You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want… just try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Lyra nodded enthusiastically. "Trust me, we're not going to screw this one up."

"But I do have one question," Bon Bon said. "Where are our clothes?"

"And where are our weapons?" Cardin added.

"If they aren't in the saddlebags that you're wearing, then they are part of the saddlebags and will reappear on you or with you when you come back out of the portal," Twilight promised.

They had all emerged from the portal wearing some kind of saddlebag, with the exception of Cinder, who was wearing a backpack.

"Speaking of which, if you'll excuse me one second."

She stepped towards the portal, her horn glowing brightly. This was not just the mere glow that surrounded a unicorn's horn while using telekinesis or another such low effort or casual spell; this was the brightness that spoke of a buildup of considerable power, as the horn itself became completely concealed beneath the bright lavender light that built up around it, while sparks leapt from the light-obscured horn and danced around the building glow.

Twilight lowered her head, and the light poured forth from out of her horn, into the darkness of the cave which was suddenly illuminated by a bright pink light, the light of the portal. It flared brilliantly for a moment, like a shield, and then disappeared, and darkness reigned once more within.

"I think that should take care of it," Twilight declared. "With luck, the magic that seeped into Remnant from this side of the portal will fade away, now that the connection has been broken."

"And without luck?" Cardin asked.

"Then it won't be able to expand any further than it already has," Twilight assured him.

"So we can't go home that way?" Bon Bon asked.

"We weren't planning on going home anyway," Lyra said.

"No," Bon Bon admitted. "No, I guess we weren't." She paused for a moment, chewing upon her lip. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

Sunset nodded. "So it seems," she said softly. She could not say that she was sorry to see them go; they had never been close, and all the things that Bon Bon had done… it was hard not to conclude that things would have been better without her around.

But then, probably some people would have said the same of Sunset herself.

She walked towards them. "I… I'm sorry that you had to get caught up in… everything. Amber, and the rest. The attack on Vale was probably coming either way, but I wish that you could have just been students for that, instead of… we should have kept our world for ourselves."

"But if you had, then we wouldn't be here," Lyra pointed out. "And I'd still be struggling to be a huntress instead of… well… these things have a way of working out for themselves, don't you think? I mean, I wish Dove was here, and Sky, but they're not, and they never will be. So all we can do now is live the best lives we can and hope that's what they'd want."

Sunset couldn't say that she'd be able to take the loss of Pyrrha in stride that way, but at the same time, she was willing to concede that Lyra's attitude might be a healthier one, even if it didn't appeal to her or seem particularly heroic.

Like everything I've ever done could be described as heroic.

"I hope you find what you're looking for out there," she said.

"We'll certainly give it our best," Lyra declared. She looked at Bon Bon. "Are you ready?"

Bon Bon took a moment, but she nodded. "Let's do this."

They turned away, setting off to the south, side by side, chattering about what they ought to – or wanted to – do first.

Sunset watched them go for a moment, their shadows falling behind them as they walked away, away from Salem, away from the battle for the fate of Remnant, away from danger, away from guilt, away from anything but happiness and one another.

We should all be so lucky.

"Are you ready?" Princess Twilight asked gently. "Princess Celestia is waiting."

“Ready?” Sunset asked. Was she ready? Would she ever be ready? What did 'ready' even mean, anyway? “As ready… as I’ll ever be,” she said. “If you two are.”

“I’m curious,” Cinder declared. “Let’s see this princess of yours, who had such an influence on you.” She smirked. “I feel like I’m about to be introduced to your mother.”

Princess Twilight chuckled. “Well, if you’d all like to follow me.”

The princess led, and the rest followed with the exception of Robyn, who walked almost beside Princess Twilight. Sunset trailed a little behind, and Cinder and Cardin fell a little behind her in turn. The ground over which they walked was not the most beautiful in the whole of Equestria; in fact, it was somewhat barren, dry and dusty.

“You know,” Cardin said, “when you described your home, I was expecting something a little nicer than this.”

“Be patient,” Sunset snapped. “You’ll see something impressive when we get to Canterlot, I guarantee it.”

“Okay,” Cardin murmured sceptically. “I’m just saying, I could have seen all this back home.”

Sunset didn’t dignify that with a response; she just followed Twilight, who said nothing further – perhaps because she was worried about making Sunset even more nervous – as she led them across the barren land and around a low hill to where Princess Twilight’s friends were waiting, along with the Equestrian Starlight Glimmer – Sunset recognised them all by their hair and eye colours – along with Princess Celestia.

She was exactly as Sunset remembered her. She was more than Sunset remembered her. Her golden crown, the necklace that she wore, they both gleamed brighter in the afternoon sunshine than they did in Sunset’s memory; her coat was shimmering samite and gleamed as though she carried within herself the lightness of the sun which she commanded in ways that she did not in Sunset’s memory. Her lustrous mane danced behind her with an airy lightness that, in her mind, it had ceased to possess.

Had her memory grown so dull, to be so unreflective of the thing that she recalled? Were her recollections like an old painting, left to decay upon a gallery wall until what was once a masterpiece became a grubby, dark, almost incomprehensible thing that captured none of that which it claimed to depict? Had she forgotten so much in these six years?

Or was she only now capable of seeing Princess Celestia as she truly was?

Whatever the truth, the sight of her froze Sunset in her tracks. Cinder and Cardin drew almost level with her before they stopped, but Sunset barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed upon Princess Celestia.

The princess did not meet her eyes at first; instead, she looked at Robyn Hill. “Robyn, we are very glad to see you safely returned; doubtless, the folk of Mantle will be overjoyed to have you back with them.”

Robyn bowed her head. “No less glad and overjoyed than I am, and will be, to be returned and to return,” she said. “I should have remembered that my royal guard days were behind me before I went poking my nose into dark caves.” She chuckled. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Princess Celestia raised one hoof to her mouth as a little titter of laughter escaped. “Though you are no longer my captain, it is good to see you safe again. Twilight, is the portal closed?”

“Yes, it is,” Twilight confirmed. “We won’t be seeing any more monsters wandering over from Remnant.”

“Thank you, Twilight,” Princess Celestia said, “though I daresay that it is less than we deserve, considering the evils that our ancestors banished to Remnant from this world, nevertheless, we must look to the wellbeing of our own subjects; from what I know of these monsters… it is good to know that we will suffer no more of them.”

Then, and only then, with other matters dealt with, did Princess Celestia turn her gaze on Sunset Shimmer.

And Sunset… said nothing. Her silver tongue was turned to base lead in the presence of the princess, her throat robbed of all power of coherent speech so that only a wordless gurgling noise emerged.

What did she say? What could she say? What was she supposed to say? It was one thing to write to the princess in a magic book, but it was quite another to stand in her presence, to have come back to Equestria, to see her in person. What was she supposed to say? Where could she even begin?

It might seem absurd, that she could write but could not speak, but the pages formed a wall between the two of them, even as the pen provided a means to reach over that wall, or perhaps to fashion a chink in it through which they could pass messages. Now, in person, a different wall stood between them: a wall of what had happened the last time they stood face to face like this.

And of everything that had happened to Sunset since.

Yes, she had told Celestia a lot of it, but again, that was through the wall.

Now, that wall had been torn down, and another had taken its place.

This was what she had wanted, this was what she had needed. Now it had arrived.

And she didn’t know what to do with it.

Princess Celestia walked towards her, every step delicate and graceful, her gilded slippers barely seeming to disturb the ground on which she walked.

She cast a shadow over Sunset.

Sunset stared up at her, and again, the wordless gurgle emerged from her throat.

What do I say? What do I say?!

And then Celestia swooped down upon her, bending down to wrap her forehoof around Sunset’s back and craning her neck around her so that their cheeks were touching lightly.

The feathers of Princess Celestia’s wings, as white as snow and as soft as eiderdown, enveloped her.

“Welcome home, Sunset Shimmer,” Princess Celestia whispered to her.

Sunset closed her eyes. She felt so warm, she felt so comfortable, she felt so… so safe.

Here she was in no danger, here she could rest, here she would not be judged, here she was welcome. Here she was loved.

Tears sprang at the corners of Sunset’s eyes. “I… I’m home.”

Long Unspoken

Long Unspoken

"I see that you've redecorated," Sunset observed, as her gaze flew around the throne room. A smile pricked at the corners of her l- her mouth; of course she didn't have lips as a pony. "I don't like it."

In truth, the throne room was mostly the same as she remembered it; it was probably not exactly the same red carpet, considering how many hooves walked upon it every day, but whoever was in charge of replacing them had managed to get the exact same shade; the dais rose above the room, just as it always had, and Princess Celestia's throne sat atop the dais, just as it always had, although the princess did not sit upon it at present but had descended to a level with Sunset and Princess Twilight – or perhaps it should be said that she had declined to ascend, given that they had all entered the room together.

Even the flowers that sat beneath the dais, on either side of the carpet, looked the same, even though they were manifestly not, unless they were the longest-lived flowers that were ever heard of. Nevertheless, they were the same shade, the same breed, the same shape as Sunset remembered.

At least, she thought they were. Her memories were not what they could have been; perhaps she was simply projecting continuity into what was, in fact, new and different.

Nevertheless, the only substantial changes that Sunset noticed in the throne room, amidst the familiar pillars and walls and carpet, were the stained glass windows that dominated the white walls and provided most of the decoration in what was otherwise an almost minimalist place. In Sunset's day, they had been mostly abstract: phases of the moon, a sun falling upon a world, that sort of thing. There were still some of those, but fewer now than there had been before.

In their place had been erected monuments to Twilight Sparkle. In Sunset's time, only a single window had existed depicting some great triumph of the past, and that the victory of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna over Discord – although there had been also, and remained, a second window displaying the tyranny of Discord from which they had redeemed Equestria. Now, stained glass commemorated the defeat of Nightmare Moon, Discord for the second time, the changelings, Sombra, Tirek, not to mention Twilight's ascension to the crown and rank of princess.

In her latter days here in the palace, Sunset had always told herself that Cadance's accomplishments were not that impressive, her ascension nothing so special, because if it had been, then Princess Celestia would have immortalised it in these windows.

That didn't really hold water anymore.

It was a good thing that Sunset was past caring.

Princess Twilight, on the other hand – other hoof, rather, while she was here; even if it was only for a brief visit, she should at least try and get back into the local jargon – seemed to care a little bit, albeit not perhaps in the right way, judging by the way that a flush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks and she started to look away.

"Oh, don't act like that," Sunset snapped good-naturedly. "You're as bad as Pyrrha."

Princess Twilight seemed to avoid looking at Princess Celestia as she murmured, "I didn't ask for any of these."

"It doesn't mean you didn't earn them," Sunset replied. "Let me tell you, if I had saved Equestria…" – she began to count the windows – "one, two, three-"

"That one's not me," Princess Twilight pointed out, when Sunset's hoof reached the window celebrating the defeat of the changeling. "That was Cadance and Shining Armor."

Sunset squinted at the two ponies drawn in outline against the pink background; yes, that was Cadance, wasn't it? Now that she looked more closely, she could see it plainly. "Okay, two-"

"Although," Princess Celestia interjected wryly, "while Princess Cadance and Shining Armor repelled the changeling attack, it was only thanks to Twilight that the changeling threat was uncovered to be repelled."

"Right," Sunset said. "We'll call that two and a half. Three and a half-"

"That's not me, either," Princess Twilight insisted as Sunset began to count King Sombra's downfall. "I told you, that was Spike."

"With your help," Princess Celestia reminded her. "By placing the good of the Crystal Empire above your personal objective, you showed you were one step closer to being ready."

"Princess," Twilight moaned.

Princess Celestia covered her mouth with one hoof as she chuckled. "Forgive me, Twilight; your humility is very charming, but as your teacher, as somepony who has watched you grow up before my eyes, it's only natural that I want to celebrate your accomplishments and let the rest of Equestria know how proud I am of you." The gaze of her royal purple eyes shifted for a moment to fall on Sunset and lingered there for a few seconds.

The smile returned to Sunset's face, more in earnestness this time, as she resumed her counting. "We'll call that half as well: three, four – if I had saved Equestria four times, including partials–"

"All of my victories have been partials," Twilight insisted. "I couldn't have done any of those things without the help of my friends."

"–and ascended to become an alicorn and a princess in the bargain," Sunset went on, ignoring Twilight's protestation – just because she'd done everything with help didn't change the fact that she'd done it, "I would want everypony in Equestria to know exactly who I was and what I'd done."

"Would you still?" Twilight asked. There was no judgement in her voice, only curiosity, and yet… Sunset felt that it was a question which invited judgement.

Her ears – her only set of ears, for now; it was weird only having two again; Sunset felt ever so slightly deaf – drooped down into the midst of her fiery mane as she considered the question. "No," she admitted. "Probably not, not anymore. I… I just want this to be over. They can forget my name, they can curse my name for all I care, but I want this to be over. I want it done before it kills Pyrrha, before it kills Ruby. I want it done before Cinder dies fighting at my side because I couldn't walk away from it and she wouldn't walk away from me, I want… I want all of this to be over, and everything precious, rare, and beautiful that presently lies beneath the threat of Salem's malice to be… safe." She snorted. "I don't want much, do I?"

"You want nothing, Sunset," Princess Celestia declared. "Nothing but what we ponies take for granted here in Equestria."

"'Take for granted'?" Sunset repeated. "I'm not sure that I'd say that, Princess." Once more, she glanced at the stained glass windows, the records of Twilight's many valiant deeds and accomplishments for Equestria. "I'd say that it is fought for, and bravely so."

"Will you both stop?" Twilight asked. "It's bad enough that… do you know what the best part of being a princess is?"

"When I last lived here, I would have said either 'the power' or 'the glory,'" Sunset replied. "So it can't be either of those, so… more magic to protect your friends?"

Twilight's eyebrows rose.

"What? I'm serious," Sunset said. "The best thing about being an alicorn from my perspective is it increases the number of ways I can fight."

"And for that, I feel sorry for you," Twilight murmured. It was a sentiment that could have easily sounded patronising or pitying, but coming from Twilight, it sounded nothing less than wholly sincere and earnestly meant. "But no, the answer – my answer, at least – is that the best thing about being a princess is that very rarely does anypony seem to care that I'm a princess."

"That fact has not always pleased you," Princess Celestia reminded her archly.

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "I seem to remember being told that you were going through something of a crisis of faith at one point, something about not knowing what the point of it all was?"

"That wasn't because I wanted people to praise me or kiss my hooves," Twilight insisted. "That was because I wanted to make myself useful. What I mean is that, after defeating Nightmare Moon, after defeating Discord, even after becoming a princess, I went right back to the library in Ponyville, just like Pinkie went back to the bakery and Rarity went back to her boutique and Applejack went back to her farm. I would have gone back to the library after stopping Tirek too, if it hadn't been destroyed." A sigh of regret escaped from Twilight. "My point is that I never did any of this because I wanted to be worshipped, and I… Princess, I know that you're proud of me, and I'm so glad that I've managed to make you proud and repay you for everything that you've done for me, but at the same time… that doesn't mean that I like… I sometimes worry that I-"

"That you'll be put on a pedestal?" Sunset suggested. "That people will make such a fuss about how great you are that they will start to believe that your very greatness puts you beyond their reach? That they will admire you only from a distance, condemn you to be only what they wish or hope or need you to be? That the princess of friendship will be left without any friends at all?"

Twilight's brow furrowed. "How did you-?"

"Like I said, you're just like Pyrrha," Sunset said, a slight, tight smile fleeting across her features. "Personally, I wouldn't worry too much about it, not while… not while you have those girls around you."

Twilight chuckled. "No, I guess it won't be a problem with them around."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. Was there a polite or diplomatic way to ask this? Was it rude to ask this? Should she simply ask on behalf of herself, but then, she was curious about Twilight as well. Perhaps there was no nice way to ask, only a direct one. "Twilight, do you know… has ascension made you immortal?" It was not a guarantee that becoming an alicorn would, in fact, lead to immortality. In fact, more often than not, it did not, else Equestria would have been overrun with alicorns – for this was not the only generation in which one or two ponies had ascended to a state greater than that which had been born; Twilight and Cadance – and Sunset, it seemed – were not the first to tread this path. Yet, alicorn or no, they had succumbed to the passing of the years. And yet it was not always so, as the presence of Princess Celestia gave proof of. Some alicorns rose higher even than the rest of that exalted pack, enduring time as though it were a light rain, as permanent as the mountains upon whose slopes sat Canterlot. Was Twilight in the former or the latter camp? And in which camp was Sunset?

Silence crashed resoundingly into the throne room, and Sunset began to wish that she hadn't spoken. And yet, if she could not speak of it here, then where? If she could not speak of it now, then when? If she could not speak of it to these two, then to whom?

Twilight's face fell, and her ears drooped. "I… I try not to think about it," she said softly. "But… yes, I am immortal. I asked Princess Celestia about it, not long after I ascended."

Sunset looked at Princess Celestia. "You can tell," she said, not asking a question so much as stating a fact.

Princess Celestia's expression was solemn. "It can be determined, once one knows how," she said, her voice quiet. "Would you like to know, Sunset Shimmer?"

Not really. "I think I probably should," Sunset said. "If I am, and it creeps up on me unawares, then it might seem disingenuous to my friends to suggest I didn't know." She looked back at Twilight. "Do your friends know?"

Princess Twilight nodded.

"How did they take it?" Sunset asked.

"Better than I did, actually," Princess Twilight admitted. "Pinkie said that we'd just have to make the most of the time that we had; Applejack pointed out that it wasn't likely we'd all live to the exact same age in any case; Fluttershy pointed out that I wasn't the only friend she had who was going to outlive her, and she hadn't let it stand between her and Discord; Rarity… Rarity said she was glad someone would be around to watch her fashion empire continue under her carefully-chosen successors," Twilight said. She smiled. "And Rainbow asked me to keep track of how long it took for anypony to break her Wonderbolt records."

Sunset chuckled. “You’re very lucky.”

Twilight smiled. “I know. Trust me, I know. For what it’s worth, it sounds as though you haven’t done that badly yourself.”

“I’m aware of that too,” Sunset acknowledged. “But still-”

“It isn’t easy,” Twilight murmured. “As much as Applejack’s right, that still doesn’t make it easy to accept that, one day, I’ll… one day, they’ll… one day, I’ll be alone.”

“Cadance?” Sunset suggested weakly.

“Isn’t immortal,” Twilight said, her voice becoming even quieter. “And neither is Flurry Heart.”

“Who?”

“Cadance’s daughter,” Twilight explained. “Doesn’t Cadance have a daughter in your world?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Sunset admitted. “But we’re not close, so who knows?” She paused for a moment. “That is… that’s…” She glanced at Princess Celestia, who stood before them as still as marble and just as effulgent, her mane of many colours shimmering and wafting gently even in the still, calm air of the throne room.

Princess Celestia closed her eyes for a moment. “Indeed,” she said, and for all that her voice was soft yet, it carried across the room. “it is, in many ways, unspeakable. And yet, as I am sure that your Professor Ozpin could tell you, Sunset, besides the obvious disadvantages come great blessings also.” She smiled. “For instance, if I were not immortal, then I would not have lived long enough to know such gifted fillies as the two of you.”

Sunset felt her cheeks heat up and guessed that Twilight’s blush was mirrored on her own face. “You… you are too kind, Princess. Far kinder than I deserve.” She glanced down at her hooves, and then glanced up again. “I see that hasn’t changed.”

“It is true,” Princess Celestia began, before her voice faltered and trailed off. She walked closer towards them, her steps delicate, graceful and entirely silent. “It is true that a mother will never cease to love her children, but nevertheless…” – a smile blossomed on her face like the rising of the sun – “I think that in your cases, it is very well deserved.”

Sunset looked at Twilight and found Twilight looking at her in turn. I guess… this makes us sisters? Strange, that that was the only reaction that she had. Princess Celestia had just declared herself to be Sunset’s mother – and Twilight’s mother, or one of her mothers, too – and yet she felt… well, what was there to feel? It was not surprising enough to produce a great well of emotion out of Sunset Shimmer, comparable to how she had felt simply beholding Princess Celestia again. It was one of those things that they had never said, that had lain unspoken between them, but having lain unspoken, it was something that, once spoken… well, yes. Of course she was Sunset’s mother, which was not something Sunset thought in entitlement but rather… what else did you call the pony who woke you in the morning, tucked you in at night with a bedtime story, nursed you when you were sick, watched you grow… forgave you all your trespasses? A teacher? A princess? No. What else did you call them really but a mother?

And what did you call somepony who didn’t realise how much they had taken all of that love, affection, and attention for granted until it was no longer there but a daughter?

Judging by the look on her face, it seemed as though Twilight was thinking much the same thing: it did not provoke any feelings that hadn’t been there all along.

None save for gratitude, immense gratitude, that she had said it.

Sunset moved forwards, her hooves clattering – she did not have Princess Celestia’s silent grace – upon the floor of the throne room, and she found that Twilight was moving forward as well, the both of them bearing down upon Celestia together, even as she crouched down and wrapped them both within her wings’ embrace.

Sisters, then.

Sunset closed her eyes and relaxed into Princess Celestia’s loving, maternal embrace. “I love you too, Mother.”

She heard Celestia chuckled softly, her cheek trembling slightly as it pressed against Sunset’s own.

“I wish that I could keep you with me,” Celestia murmured. “I wish that I could keep the both of you here, and safe, and with me. I would not send Twilight hence to battle any more monstrous threats that might arise against us, and I would not send you through the mirror to confront the horrors that infest the world of Remnant. I would… I would keep you safe.” Celestia’s smile was touched by frost as she rose. “But you have both grown up too much for that, haven’t you?”

“I fear so,” Sunset said, “though for my part, at least, it took me long enough.” She hesitated. “I only hope that I can make you proud with my actions on my return.” She held up one forestalling hoof. “Don’t say that I’ve made you proud already. I… I have done little enough worth your pride.”

“You have ascended,” Princess Celestia reminded her. “You have become an alicorn, and a princess-”

“An alicorn, perhaps,” Sunset conceded.

“There’s not really much of a 'perhaps' about it,” Twilight pointed out. “Your wings are right there.”

“Okay, smarty-pants, an alicorn then,” Sunset said. “But a princess?”

“The one goes with the other, at least in this world,” Celestia declared. Her smile was a little sly as she said, “If only because ‘princess’ rolls a little easier off the tongue than ‘alicorn’ and is more readily understandable to non-ponies.” She winked. “It is unfortunate that we cannot have a coronation, but I fear it would raise too many questions about who you are and where you have come from, not to mention the further questions that would be raised once you disappeared again. Nevertheless, when you return to Remnant, you may hold your head up high and call yourself a princess, and anyone who wishes to dispute your claim may take it up with me.”

Sunset grinned. “I fear that doing so would make me more a figure of fun than of respect in Remnant… but then, I’ve made myself a figure of fun in Remnant plenty of times to plenty of people, so why stand on my precarious dignity now, of all times?” She paused. “It’s funny how…” She glanced at Twilight. “You didn’t want this, wings or crown or temporal glories; you never sought or strove for any of it, and yet, here you are, Princess of Friendship, possessor of a castle, beloved and celebrated in stained glass and in much else. You… you really are like my friend Pyrrha; for all her talk of destiny and duty and the great task that she would accomplish, I think a part of her, the heart of her, would like nothing more than a simple life with Jaune, to be his wife and have his children and enjoy his love while they grow old. But fate would have it otherwise, and though she claims her destiny is in her choosing, destiny, it seems, would have it otherwise as well. And me, I… I wanted everything that you have. I wanted all the things you did not seek, I wanted them with a burning eagerness, a flame that burnt out all else within me, and yet now… yet now-”

“You have achieved it all,” Celestia said, “in ways that neither you nor I could possibly have imagined.” She sighed. “Save, if you still desired it, immortality.”

Sunset stared up at her, face unmoving. “You… you did whatever… while we were hugging?”

“It was not a trick,” Celestia assured her. “I simply didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious.”

“I see,” Sunset whispered. “Thank you for your concern.” She hesitated for a moment, gathering up her thoughts.

It was strange that she had thoughts about what was, after all, a mere continuation of the status quo. She had been mortal before; she was mortal now. She had known that she would die at some point; that truth remained the case.

What, then, was there to think about?

Was she disappointed? No, at least… no. No, she was not. She would have been, once upon a time; at about the same that she would have been envious of all of Twilight’s stained glass windows. When she had looked into the mirror for the first time and seen in it not a reflection but, as she had taken it then, a premonition of glory to come, she had seen herself not only as an alicorn but an immortal, too.

‘I see somepony who could rule all of Equestria.’ So she had said, proudly and unabashed, and that somepony who could rule all of Equestria would, of necessity, be immortal. No mortal could rule, or at least not for long; they would die, and what would happen then?

But that dream had died a long time ago. The rule of Equestria was no longer her desire. And as for immortality… perhaps there would have been some good that she could do with it, perhaps she could have taken Professor Ozpin’s place in watching over the world – after all, she had originally scorned and derided his ability or lack thereof to do so precisely because he was not immortal.

So perhaps, if an immortal was necessary to watch over the world, to keep Salem in check, to guard and guide the people of Remnant as Professor Ozpin had sought to do, then…

Then what? Then I should have been immortal to take on the burden? Well, that isn’t going to happen, is it?

Or at least, it hasn’t happened yet, and if it didn’t happen during my ascension, I don’t see when else it would be likely to take place.

Was that a pity, though? Was that something she ought to regret, that she would one day die, that she would be unable to defend Remnant and ensure that any progress she and her friends made would endure?

Should she regret that she would have to watch her friends succumb to old age and the decay of years? Should she regret that she would not have to watch, unchanged, as they laid Pyrrha to rest in her family crypt? Should she regret that she wouldn’t have to hold Cinder’s withered, aged hand and endure the pain in Cinder’s eyes as she looked up into a face that was as young and strong as it had been on the night they met?

No. No, she did not regret that. She would not, could not regret that.

She would live a mortal life and die when her allotted time was done.

Everything ends, and it’s always sad, but if something didn’t end, that might be even worse.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “Thank you, Princess; that is…” She glanced at Princess Twilight, not wanting to say anything insensitive.

Princess Twilight smiled. “You can admit it’s a relief, if you want to.”

“It is,” Sunset admitted. “I didn’t really want to-”

“Be alone?” Twilight asked.

“I might have been about to say something less selfish,” Sunset murmured.

“It’s okay,” Princess Twilight assured her. “It’s… there was one more thing that I didn’t tell you, about how my friends reacted when I told them… about what I had become.” Twilight closed her eyes as her smile widened. “They were all worried about whether I was going to be okay without them, and they made me promise that I wouldn’t… that I wouldn’t let myself become lonely once they were gone.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “How… how does any mare get so lucky as to have five friends like that?”

“By having it in her heart to become Princess of Friendship?” Sunset suggested. “Still, I hope that you don’t take it too hard when I say that… I do not envy you. I do not envy… either of you; there may be consolations in it, as you say, Princess, there may be general advantage to, but the cost… no, I do not envy either of you, and I do not envy Professor Ozpin.” She licked her lips. “So, if I have still only a relatively brief time remaining, then I will have to make that spur me to ingenuity in the time that remains.”

“How do you mean?” Twilight asked.

Sunset looked at her. “I mean… that I don’t intend to pass this war onto Pyrrha’s children,” she declared. “I mean to make an end of it, and of Salem too.” She smiled. “I would see Pyrrha’s destiny fulfilled.” That smile turned into a rueful chuckle. “Of course, I haven’t actually figured out how I’m going to do that yet, but such is my ambition, at least.”

“And a worthy one too,” Princess Celestia pronounced. “Any help that we may offer, any assistance that you may require… you have but to ask.”

“Thank you, Princess,” Sunset said. “I will… give it some thought before I go.” She paused for a moment. “Can I ask a question?”

Princess Celestia’s smile was inviting as she said, “Anything you wish.”

“Thank you,” Sunset said. “I don’t suppose that either of you can tell me what I’m a princess of, if I am a princess?”

“You are a princess,” Twilight said. “You might not think you’re worthy – I didn’t think I was worthy either – but someone or something does.”

“Okay, fine,” Sunset said quickly. “But a princess of what?”

“I think the answer to your question depends, in part, upon a question,” Twilight replied. “How did you ascend, and where?”

Sunset unfurled her wings out on either side of her in a sort of shrug. “I… I’m not quite sure. As you can imagine, it’s not as obvious as it is here.”

“You must have noticed when you acquired new powers,” Twilight said.

“Not at first,” Sunset admitted. “I noticed that my magic was getting stronger after I saved Amber, but I didn’t notice that I possessed earth pony strength or the pegasi ability to manipulate the weather until after I saved Cinder, so… it could be either of those, but my preference would be that I did not ascend until after I rescued Cinder from Salem’s darkness. At least that was actually a success.”

One of the reasons she was finding it a little hard to accept the idea of herself as a princess was that she had failed at far more than she had succeeded at in Remnant. Amber had betrayed their cause and died; Professor Ozpin had died; the Relic of Choice had been taken by Salem’s forces; about the only two things that Sunset had indisputably done right were keeping her team alive, sometimes in the teeth of their own best instincts, and saving Cinder. If her ascension had come about as a result of what she had done to Amber… that would be bittersweet, to say the least.

“Is there any way to find out?” she asked. “How did you work out that you were the Princess of Friendship?”

“Just as you said: I worked it out,” Twilight said. “Nopony told me; I didn’t wake up realising it. It… it showed itself to me, and it will show itself to you too. Just give it time.”

“The way that my cutie mark showed itself to me?” Sunset asked. “The cutie mark that I still don’t actually understand?”

“There, I can help you,” Twilight assured her. “Or at least, I know three very special fillies in Ponyville who can help you.”

“On which note,” Princess Celestia said, “perhaps we should rejoin the others?”

“Actually,” Sunset replied, “could I speak to you alone for just one moment?”

Twilight smiled encouragingly at her. “I’ll be right outside.”

Her horn glowed a bright lavender as she opened the door with her magic. It opened nearly silently – Twilight’s hoof-falls as she trotted out made more noise – and closed every bit as quietly.

The hinges, Sunset recalled, had always been kept well-oiled.

Nevertheless, the door had closed, and Sunset was alone with Celestia.

Just as she had wished.

“You never… you never called yourself my mother before,” Sunset murmured.

“No,” Celestia replied, in a voice that was just as soft. “Perhaps, if I had-”

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “No, it… none of what happened to me was your fault. You gave me more love than I deserved, and it was not enough. A word, a word that was no less true for being unspoken, would not have changed that.”

A sadness appeared in Celestia’s eyes. “But the love that you received in Remnant, that is enough?”

“That is not the difference,” Sunset whispered. “That isn’t… that’s not why I changed.”

“Then why?” Celestia asked.

Sunset blinked rapidly. “I… honestly, it’s hard to say. I… maybe I just got older, and a little wiser along with it? Maybe it’s the fact that I was forced to mingle with other people until I realised that it wasn’t so bad. Maybe I needed to go to a world where there were other people as obnoxious as me, so that, by seeing myself reflected in their imperfections, I could revile myself as others reviled me and as I reviled others.” She chuckled darkly. “I cannot point to one single thing, but there was nothing else you could have done but did not do. You cannot blame yourself. I will not allow it. All blame for what befell, for what broke between us… it is on me.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Princess. For everything.”

“You have apologised already,” Celestia reminded her.

“Not in pony,” Sunset pointed out.

“Nevertheless, you have apologised and been forgiven,” Celestia declared. “No more of that. What’s past is past.”

“Says the pony who was about to apologise to me?”

Celestia chuckled. “Very well. No more of that from either of us. Let the past truly be the past and let our eyes be fixed only on the future.” She smiled, as warmly and as brightly as the sun which she controlled. “I’ve missed you, little sunbeam.”

Sunset covered her mouth with one hoof as she giggled at that fillyhood nickname. “I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed… I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed these halls, I’ve missed the gilded spires, I’ve missed the city. And I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you most of all.”

“And yet you cannot stay,” Celestia murmured.

Sunset shook her head. “A piece of my heart desires it,” she whispered. “To remain here, to never pass beyond the mirror again, to leave it all behind and live in the peace that you have wrought… but duty and destiny compel me otherwise. I… perhaps it is indulgent to say that I have earned a little respite, but nevertheless, I may only take a brief rest before the storm bears me on its wings again.” She paused. “And I think, if I felt otherwise, you would have far less reason to be proud of me.”

Celestia was silent for a moment. “I think you may be right. I suppose that I will simply have to make the most of the time that we have together.” She smiled. “Now, shall we rejoin your friends?”

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

Share Your Life

Share Your Life

The claws of Cinder’s feet tapped rhythmically upon the palace floor as she waited for Sunset to be done with Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Princess Twilight Sparkle. It was something that she had known about for, well, for as long as she had known about Equestria, courtesy of Sunset, but even so. Princess Twilight Sparkle. It was rather bizarre.

In fact, the whole thing was rather bizarre; the fact that there was another world was something that Cinder could accept readily enough – it was just one more wonder in a world of wonders – but what was harder to get one’s head around was the way that this world was populated by alternate versions of people who lived in Remnant. Another Starlight, another Rainbow Dash, another Twilight Sparkle.

A Princess Twilight Sparkle, she had done well for herself hadn’t she? It was… well, it was hard to imagine Twilight Sparkle, as Cinder knew her, as a figure of power and authority in this world. And yet, here she was, with the wing and horn combination that seemed to designate one as a figure of power and authority. At least among ponykind.

Sunset, of course, had the same combination. Thoroughly deserved, of course, but still… no wonder she could so easily give the powers of the Fall Maiden away to Pyrrha, casting Cinder’s gift aside like it was nothing. She had no need of it. She had so much more already.

Cinder glanced at the palace door as her claws continued to tap on the floor. There was no sign of anyone emerging.

Her claws tapped on the floor over and over again.

“Are you nervous about what they might be saying in there, or just impatient?” Starlight Glimmer asked. She was waiting with Cinder beyond the doors. She was the only one; Cardin was being entertained by the rest of Princess Twilight’s friends, or at least, they were trying. Currently Rarity was giving him a tour of the palace; Cinder hoped that he was enjoying it more than Rainbow Dash seemed like she would enjoy it.

She hoped that he enjoyed himself here, while they were here.

It was as well that one of them did.

Cinder looked down at Starlight; she hadn’t asked for anyone to wait with her, but she supposed that she ought to be glad of the company; if she took better advantage of it, then it might keep her from dark thoughts.

“Neither and both,” she muttered.

If Starlight did not understand her meaning, then she gave no sign of incomprehension. She sat down, folding her forehooves, and looked up into Cinder’s newly scaly visage. “It’s going to be okay,” she assured her. “Sunset is going to be okay. Whatever they’re talking about in there, I guarantee that it’s nothing bad. They’re probably just catching up on old times.” She smiled. “So relax. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? To rest?”

“That is Sunset’s cause for coming,” Cinder corrected her, “and I am glad that she may, at last, take her ease and lay down her burdens for a little while, but… I will find no rest here.”

Starlight’s brow furrowed. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you wish.”

“Where did you learn to speak like that?” Starlight asked. “My father is obsessed with antiques and ancient history, and even he doesn’t talk like that. It’s… I mean, it sounds nice – although I don’t know how I’d feel about anypony I knew talking that way all the time – but it’s… odd. Ruby didn’t write that way, and Cardin didn’t talk that way, and not even you or Sunset talk that way all the time, so… so what is it?”

Cinder snorted. A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “I… when I was growing up, my only friends were old books in the libraries of my father… and later, my stepfather. I had no… I didn’t have any friends-“

“If you want to talk like that, I’m not going to stop you,” Starlight assured her.

“I don’t put it on like a coat,” Cinder insisted. “Well, not all the time, at any rate. As I say, even when my father lived, I had no friends, and after his death… my stepmother scarcely allowed me out of the house. But they both had plenty of books to assuage my loneliness, even if my stepmother and stepsisters were none of them great readers; a grand library is just one of those things that you have when you are a noble Mistralian, you understand. Probably built up over many generations, as you can proudly tell your guests when you show them around. Nobody cared if I read there by candlelight or even by the light of a stolen dust crystal. Antique tomes were my teachers, and their heroes were my friends. From them, I learned how to speak… and even a little of how to behave.”

“Really?” Starlight asked.

Cinder chuckled. “I fear our literature would horrify you with how violent and bloodthirsty some of its protagonists can be, how they might be possessed of scruples, but many of them have no actual morals to speak of at all.” Another chuckle escaped from out of her scaly mouth. “There’s a certain irony to the fact that Pyrrha is held up as the last flowering of Mistralian greatness, a hero stepped out of history and legend, and yet, in temperament, she is so unlike a true antique Mistralian hero as can be imagined: thoughtful, slow to anger, considerate of others – their persons and their feelings – kind, humble… only in her personal loyalty does she compare. Conversely, that was the only way in which I was not a perfect Mistralian hero out of myth and legend.” She paused for a moment. “I wonder if that’s one of the reasons why I didn’t like her. I mean, I had plenty of reasons why I hated Pyrrha Nikos, and one of them was that I detested the adoration that the Evenstar received from those around her, but I never… I never thought of it in quite that way, that I was by temperament and nature more suited to the role by far than she.”

“I’m sorry to say, but that doesn’t sound like a good thing,” Starlight murmured, with a slight nervous laugh.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t,” Cinder agreed. “I know that it was not, and I am no longer that person. And yet…”

“'And yet'?” Starlight asked.

“And yet, I was magnificent,” Cinder declared. “I owned the stage. I cast a shadow over the world, and great men lost sleep in pondering my actions. And now…” She glanced at the palace door. “Now I wait beyond the palace door, while great ones hold confidence without me.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Starlight said. “Sunset-“

“Is just catching up,” Cinder murmured. “Catching up with she who is as a mother to her, now that she has returned home.” She looked back down at Starlight. “If you want to know why I tap my claws, why I will find no rest here in Equestria? I am sure it is a very restful place, a peaceable place, a place where the flowers bloom and the birds sing and all good things befall good people, but it is Sunset’s place. Sunset’s home, Sunset’s birthplace to which she was returned, blessed with her birthright, this ascension that means so much to you and bestows such power on her. This is her place… a place where she could stay if she wished.” She had marked well the embrace that Princess Celestia had given Sunset upon their meeting; if Sunset declared that she wished to forsake Remnant and their struggle there, then she would not be denied, not by the princess who had embraced her so.

“A place,” she added, “where I am even more disposable to her than I am normally.”

The frown on Starlight’s face deepened. “I’m sure that Sunset doesn’t-“

“I cannot help her in battle,” Cinder spat. “I could not rescue her from the captivity of her other self. I could not… I couldn’t even bring her down when she was lost in her demonic form. No, that was Ruby.” She almost spat the name. “Can I… can I tell you something in confidence?”

“Your secrets are safe with me,” Starlight promised, “and not just because you’ve asked me that. As far as I’m concerned, everything you tell me is in confidence, unless you tell me that it isn’t.”

Cinder bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“But what is it that you’re worried about getting back to Sunset?” Starlight asked.

Cinder once more looked towards the door, and this time, she was glad that it was resolutely shut and showed no sign of opening. She didn’t… she didn’t want Sunset to come out and overhear this; it would be… a little hard to explain. “I… I am glad that Ruby didn’t come with us,” she confessed. “I’m glad that she will not be with us for the next leg of this journey.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Cinder implored her. “You don’t know what it was like. You and Twilight – Princess Twilight – you spoke to Sunset about Ruby, you spoke to Ruby in a book, but you do not know what it was like, watching her make Sunset miserable day after day, night after night, tormenting her constantly while Sunset… it was like watching a spurned dog chase after the master who beats it… or watching a battered wife crawl back to her husband.”

“You’re exaggerating!” Starlight cried. “You’ve got to be. Sunset-“

“Loves Ruby,” Cinder cut Starlight off. “Cares deeply for her, is devoted to her… add in a healthy dollop of guilt for Yang’s death – and even more guilt for everything – and you have… it’s hard to watch someone that you care about subject themselves to torment, to constant carping criticism, to incessant badgering and upbraiding, while all the inner light that drew you to them fades away and they become a shadow of themselves.” Cinder took a deep breath. “There were times when I wanted to slap that girl, or else grab her by the shoulders and shake her and yell into her face that Sunset is suffering, can’t you see that? To ask if she could not refrain from adding to Sunset’s burdens, for pity’s sake?”

Starlight was silent for a moment. “As I understand, Sunset-“

“Felt as though she deserved it,” Cinder grunted. “But no one deserves that, not from someone they love, no matter what they have done. But… of course, Sunset didn’t see it that way. She thought it was all deserved, and more. Even as Ruby was making her miserable, even as Ruby broke her heart, she couldn’t see it as Ruby’s fault, only as her own just desserts. That… that was what forestalled my intervention. That was why I let it go on, although my palms itched to prevent it. Sunset… Sunset wouldn’t have appreciated it; she would have… she would have taken Ruby’s side, not mine. She might even have sent me away.” She paused. “Does that make me a coward, or does the fact that I wanted to do it make me a bad person, in your eyes?”

Starlight took a moment to respond. “It makes Sunset very fortunate to have someone like you in her corner,” she said.

Cinder would have smiled at that, if she could have believed it. Instead, she shook her head. “As I told you,” she said, “she doesn’t need me.”

“Not in battle, maybe,” Starlight allowed, “but do you think Twilight needs Fluttershy in a fight, or Pinkie Pie? It doesn’t mean that she doesn’t need them.” She hesitated. “Maybe… maybe if you told her how you feel, then-“

“Sunset is aware of my feelings,” Cinder said sharply.

“Is she?” Starlight asked. “Does she know how deep they go? Does she know what kind they are?” She smiled. “Listen… I get it. My… my mother died when I was very little. My father-“

“The one who is obsessed with antiques?”

“Yes, he was…” Starlight paused. “He tried. He was… devoted. Cloying. Clueless. We didn’t get on, or at least, I didn’t get on with him. But there was one pony that I could trust, one pony that I cared for, one pony who mattered to me more than anypony or anything else.”

“Sunburst,” Cinder said.

Starlight’s eyebrows rose. “It’s weird how you know me, even though you… don’t know me.”

Cinder chuckled. “It’s one of the downsides of having a doppelgänger in another world.”

“Yeah,” Starlight murmured. “So… in this other world of yours… I fight monsters? Under Trixie?”

“Yes.”

Starlight was silent for a moment as she considered. “Okay,” she said. “Anyway, where…? Oh, right, Sunburst, the one pony who… who I could rely on. The one pony who I knew would always be there for me… right up until he wasn’t.”

Cinder frowned. She knew that Sunburst yet lived in Remnant – at least, he had been alive the last that Cinder knew – but it was possible that that did not hold here in Equestria. Yes, life in Equestria seemed a deal less fraught than it was in Remnant, but at the same time, that did not mean that no one – nopony, as they put it here – could succumb to illness, or a snake bite, or an unfortunate accident of some kind. “Did he-?“

“Oh, no!” Starlight cried. “No, he didn’t die, thank Celestia. No, he’s still alive. He’s Princess Flurry Heart’s personal tutor now.” She sighed. “But his mother had plans for him. Grander plans than a provincial life in some no-mark town. And so, at the first sign of any magical talent, she packed him off to magic school here in Canterlot, far away from me.”

“He left you alone,” Cinder murmured.

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“But it hurt you, nonetheless,” Cinder said. “Did you… hate him for it?”

Starlight didn’t answer, which sort of gave the answer away as far as Cinder was concerned. She said, “I… may have gone a little crazy,” she admitted. “I… I couldn’t stand the thought of being left again, of being abandoned. So I found a spot in the middle of nowhere to found a village, and I stole other ponies’ cutie marks so that they wouldn’t be able to survive outside of the village.”

“Unable to survive?” Cinder repeated.

“Right, you don’t know how important cutie marks are,” Starlight said. “Cutie marks are… cutie marks… how do I describe this to an outsider-?“

“Your gift to the world?” Cinder suggested. “Sunset has described the concept.”

“That’s a way of looking at it, sure,” Starlight agreed. “More prosaically, cutie marks are what ensure that you can actually make it in… whatever it is. They’re what makes the dressmaker able to imagine a gown, they’re what makes the baker able to conceive of a sweet treat, they’re… without them, it turns out that ponies are pretty incompetent. Equal, in their incompetence, but still.” She paused. “That’s how I sold it to the poor ponies whom I lied to and abused: that we were going to make a town where everypony was equal, where nopony was better than anypony else, set apart by destiny, marked as special or inferior by a mark on their flank. I think I even believed it a little bit; after all, it had been Sunburst’s cutie mark that meant they took him away from me. But mostly, I just wanted to make sure that nopony could ever leave the village, because it was only in the village that the fact that they had no cutie marks was a good thing instead of making them an object of pity or derision. So they’d have to stay with me, in my little make-believe where nothing bad could ever happen.”

“Until Princess Twilight,” Cinder said.

“Until Princess Twilight,” Starlight agreed. “Until she showed me… well, first, she tried to show me that our cutie marks are, like you said, a gift, that they don’t set anypony above or beneath others; they give us the chance to combine our talents with those of our friends to… well, I didn’t listen to the whole speech, but I’m sure it was building up to something. And then, after that, well… once she was through with me, I wasn’t alone any more.” She smiled.

Cinder hesitated. “So… what’s your point?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not particularly seeing the relevance,” Cinder confessed.

"My point is," Starlight said, "that when there is one pony, and only one pony, whom you can rely on to be there for you when you need them – or even when you don't – then it's natural to be afraid of losing that pony, that person. But Twilight showed me that there are better ways to handle it, and it starts with being honest with Sunset about how you feel: about her and about your relationship."

"Easily said," Cinder replied. "But what if…" She trailed off. What if Sunset didn't feel the same way? There were times when Cinder was absolutely certain that there was something between them, a spark of which they were both aware; how could Sunset not be aware of it? How could she not realise that Cinder was flirting with the subtlety of a boot to the same, how could she not realise that she was flirting back? She offered to give up on her dreams and her friends and her whole life to dedicate that life to taking care of Cinder, and just how was Cinder supposed to take that?

But then there were also times when Cinder wondered. When Cinder worried, as hard as that was to admit; when Cinder thought that Sunset would have made that same offer to anyone who was in Cinder's position. And after all, the flirting had been before Sunset knew the truth about who she was and what she was fighting for, and since then, Cinder had put Sunset in some uncomfortable positions.

She can't say that I don't have some claim on her, after all that we've been through.

But so much of what we went through was my fault.

Sunset was… hard to understand, sometimes. Worldly and naïve at the same time. Intelligent and prone to foolishness. Not well-versed in romance. Not that Cinder herself was any better in that regard. Did she not realise? Didn't she see? There was something there, something between them, Cinder could feel it; it felt so real that she felt as if she could reach out and touch it.

But did Sunset feel it too? That was the question, wasn't it? Sunset, after all, had spent most of this journey… not exactly ignoring Cinder, but she had been relentlessly focussed on Ruby – as little as the latter had deserved it – and she had… she hadn't exactly pushed Cinder away, but she had encouraged Cinder to go away, in a sense. How much had she meant that, and how much had that been a misguided attempt to help her?

Sometimes, Cinder wished that she had Sunset's semblance so that she could use it on her and find out just what she actually felt.

"I know it's a risk," Starlight conceded. "I know that there's a chance that you won't get what you want. But that's what opening yourself up to others means: risking rejection for the sake of having something that's meaningful and real. But you have to take your armour off to do it."

"Did you?" Cinder asked.

"Hmm?"

"Did you take off your armour with Sunburst?"

A blush rose to Starlight's cheeks. "Uh…" She laughed nervously.

"That would be a 'no,' then?" Cinder suggested amusedly.

"The timing hasn't been right," Starlight replied defensively. "The last time I saw him was the first time we'd met since we were kids, and I… well, I'd done a lot of kind of dark and unpleasant things since then, and I assumed that he'd become a great wizard. I wasn't even sure he'd want to speak to me again, let alone… like you, I guess I thought he'd be so far above me that he wouldn't have any need for somepony like me in his life."

"I hope there's a 'but' to this story somewhere."

"Well, let's just say that he had things that he didn't want me to know about, the same as I did," Starlight said. "We're friends again. That's… enough for now, I don't… I don't want to risk it by pushing too hard, too quickly."

"But you want me to do it to see if it works."

"I'm content with the way things are between Sunburst and I," Starlight declared. "You're not."

It was phrased as a statement, not a question, and as a statement, Cinder didn't bother to deny it. What would have been the point?

She wanted to know. She wanted it out there, in the open between them, no longer couched behind suggestion or entendre or words, gestures, that could be interpreted in a certain way or not. She wanted to know how Sunset felt for certain, one way or the other.

She wanted… as execrable as the phrase was, she wanted to be able to move forward.

"Very well," she said. "I… I will tell her."

The doors to the throne room opened. Cinder started to get up, but it was only Princess Twilight who emerged, and she shut the doors behind her. She trotted over to them, her wings tucked in at her sides. She was… not the same, and not just because she enjoyed power and rank and authority that her human counterpart in Remnant did not. That alone was a difference, of course, and an admirable one, in Cinder's opinion; just because she had changed sides and repented some of her past crimes did not mean that she had suddenly reconciled herself to the fact that Remnant was a world dominated by old men – undying old men, in the case of Ozpin – whose decaying hands clung to power and wealth and all the good things in the world, directing the affairs of men to their own benefit. It was an odd thing to say of a world that was ruled – and ruled openly, not from the shadows as Ozpin had – by an immortal princess, but from what she had been told and what she could observe with her own eyes, Equestria was a world where the young could accrue great power, influence, and respect. There was no pony Ironwood here, no Lionheart nor Jacques Schnee. In fact, aside from the aforementioned immortal princess, there was nobody of any import above the age of about twenty-five.

It was all… rather liberating.

But that was not all that was different between Princess Twilight and her human, non-royal counterpart, and no, she wasn't talking about the differences of species and anatomy. An Atlesian writer – who else? – had once proclaimed that 'every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier,' and the human Twilight Sparkle had embodied the wisdom of those words, bearing herself as though a weight of shame sat upon her shoulders, weighing them down and keeping her from looking up at the sun. Princess Twilight was free from that, so free that it was inconceivable that she had ever felt it at all; she bore herself with confidence, her back straight and her head held high; even when she did not wear the crown, it sat invisible upon her brow, and yet, even that scarcely seemed to burden her – at least not presently.

But then, this was a land at peace with itself and with its neighbours; it was fitting that there should be little in the way of burdens felt by anyone.

"Where's everypony else?" she asked. "Where's your friend, Cardin, wasn't it?"

"Everypony else is showing him around," Starlight explained. "I said I'd wait here with Cinder."

Twilight smiled. "I see. I hope he's enjoying himself. I know that he's in good hooves." To Cinder, she added, "Don't worry, Princess Celestia just wanted a quick word with Sunset in private. They won't be long."

Not too long ago, to hear that would have pleased Cinder. Now, the approaching moment made her nervous.

Pull yourself together, for gods' sake! You are Cinder Fall; you have defied four kingdoms and all the power of Atlas!

The worst that four kingdoms and all the power of Atlas could do was kill me. And besides, I was at least partway to being Fall Maiden at the time.

Not that the power would have helped her in this, but the magic – and all to which she had subjected herself in order to obtain the magic – had lifted her above all human weaknesses like nervousness and anticipation. They had cut her off from so much of the human experience that was so unpleasant to endure. They had made her feel strong, inviolate, invulnerable.

She could have done with that.

In truth, she ought to have done this long ago. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t recognised her feelings for Sunset; they had been clear – to her, if not to Sunset – as early as their battle against Doctor Merlot, if not before. But she had failed to act upon them.

She had had reasons, at first; not least of which that she and Sunset were, if not enemies, then on opposite sides of the battle. And then she had been Sunset’s prisoner, but even after that, even after they had begun to work together, still she had shrank back, still she had hesitated. Why?

Because she was afraid. Because she feared that Sunset would reject her, because she feared that she was not worthy to be loved, because she feared that she was not good enough for Sunset in particular, because she feared that someone who had done as she had done did not deserve such happiness.

Because she feared that what she had done to Sunset, what Sunset had endured because of a decision that Sunset had forced upon her, constituted a wall between them that could not be scaled.

And yet, she would have to try and scale it. She would have no peace otherwise. Though she might fall, yet she would have to try.

"So, Starlight," Twilight said, with the unmistakable air of someone making conversation in order to fill up a silence, "have you decided what you're going to do about your invitation yet?"

Cinder looked down at Starlight. "'Invitation'?"

"Oh, it's nothing really," Starlight said, before a nervous laugh betrayed that it was, indeed, something. "I've just been invited to a celebration at my… at my old village." Her voice quietened noticeably as she added that last part.

Cinder frowned. "The village that-"

"That I stole all their cutie marks and made them dependent on me, yeah," Starlight confessed. "I can't imagine why they want me back either." She bowed her head. "I don't know what to do."

"Maybe you should try practicing a little of what you preach?" Cinder suggested, her tone sharpening just a little.

The doors to the throne room opened again, and Princess Celestia and Sunset – Princess Sunset, Cinder supposed she ought to refer to her, but it was nigh impossible to actually think of her that way – emerged through the doorway, side by side.

There was something about Princess Celestia that made Cinder simultaneously want to recoil from her and bow before her at the same time. Bow before her, because this was someone who could make you accept the despotism of an immortal autocrat in the knowledge that it was a benign and enlightened despotism. There was a gentleness to her movements, a lightness to her tread, a calming delicacy about her that put all fears aside and calmed all doubts. She wore the crown as though she had been fashioned for it, the golden adornments that she wore seemed as much a part of her as wings or mane or tail. Just to look at her was to see one who had been destined to rule, and it was wholly proper that she should do so.

And yet, at the same time, Cinder also wished to recoil before her, before the light that shone from within her; in the presence of the princess, she felt a creature of darkness, of shadow-filled and slimy places, unfit to stand in such a place and such a presence. Someone fit only to be viewed with revulsion by such beings of light as Princess Celestia was.

And yet, Princess Celestia did not appear to regard her so; a soft smile sat upon her face and did not waver as she drew near. Rather, it was Sunset who seemed touched by nervousness, who could not look at Cinder, whose steps were awkward and a trifle halting as though there were something wrong.

Perhaps there was something wrong, but if harsh words had passed between Sunset and the princess, why did Princess Celestia seem so free of discomfort?

"Sunset?" Cinder asked. "Is something…?" She glanced at Princess Celestia. "Is something wrong?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I… well, I… I have something to tell you," she murmured.

"What a coincidence," Cinder said. "I have something to tell you, as well." She smiled. "Do you want to go first?"

"Not really," Sunset muttered. "Can we… can we leave it, for just a little while? It will keep. For now… can we just… be?"

Cinder, having decided that she was going to speak to Sunset about this, was somewhat anxious to have it done and said and decided one way or another; but it was clear that, whatever Sunset wished to say, she wished all the more to take pause before saying it, and so, therefore, Cinder smiled and said, "Alright, let's just be."

And it was nice, as Sunset and Princess Twilight and even Princess Celestia herself acted as her guide around Canterlot. Princess Celestia herself! The ruler of the land, the senior diarch, the absolute and unquestioned mistress of Equestria, walking around the streets devoid of guards or attendants or any other signs of rank other than the radiant raiment which she wore, pointing out this or that little detail, this place of interest or that lovely view. It was… baffling, alien almost. It was not the sort of thing that one could imagine the Steward of Mistral doing, for all that he was not called a king – nor even a prince. It was something that Cinder imagined would grate even on some Atlesian councillors, the sort of thing that they would do only in a desperate attempt to demonstrate the common touch. And even then, they would only do in Atlas, never in Mantle nor the lower slopes of Mistral.

But as Cinder was led around Canterlot, she got the distinct impression that there were no Mantles here in Equestria. Well, obviously there was a Mantle, but even the brief glimpse of it that she had gotten as they passed through it to their waiting pegasus chariot – a flying chariot, of all the ways to travel – had given Cinder the distinct impression that it was a far more pleasant place to live than its counterpart in Atlas: a mining town, yes, but devoid of the toxic smog, the grinding poverty, the rapacious profiteering the devoured souls and ground up bodies, the myriad problems that disfigured Mantle and shamed Atlas. These rather ridiculous-looking creatures, though they shared the names of humans, had somehow managed to do so much better, to avoid the mistakes that men had made.

Maybe that was why they shared names with humans: to shame them by association, to hold a mirror up to them as if to say ‘you could do so much better! You could be so much more!’ Yes, they had magic, yes some of them could fly, but even so… look at what they had built. Look at what it was possible to achieve by those who were willing to raise their horizons and come together.

It underscored, for Cinder, what wretched creatures humans were, that ponies should outdo them so.

Cinder had seen Canterlot as they flew in, and even as they flew, it had seemed a fair city, a shining city, a true radiant beacon, all that Atlas aspired to be and yet was not, thanks to the foibles and the follies and the flaws of men. Yet now, as she walked the streets, she saw it with fresh eyes. Though it was a city built upon a mountainside as Mistral was, there was no sign of any lower slope here. Rather, the city seemed to shine from root to tip, the high towers of brilliant white rising to catch the sun, the spires of gold gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, the banners streaming in the wind.

As they walked the boulevards and the alleys, as they paused to admire the statues and the fountains, as they watched the fish in the ornamental ponds or to gaze admiringly upon the flower beds, Cinder found her gaze drawn back, over and over again, to Sunset. That was not to say that she was not paying attention to all the wonders of the city that were being shown to her; she was, and she noticed much about Canterlot, like the way in which ponies were surprised to see their princess but at the same time not so surprised as to suggest that this was something abnormal. It was a treat for them, one that set them to bowing and scraping in a way that made Princess Celestia seem uncomfortable for reasons that Cinder could not explain but which made her feel like she was probably morally inferior for not understanding, but it was not alien to them. They were not shocked to witness it. Clearly, Princess Celestia was not a stranger to her subjects, a name without a face handing down decrees from some remote and lofty seat. They might respect her, but she remained a part of their lives also.

It was an attitude to power that Cinder would probably not have adopted, had she ever ascended to greatness, and yet for all that it was alien to her, she found herself drawn to it. After all, so much of what ponies did or built or had done was that which men ought to aspire to; why should not this be the ideal of governance and rule? Just because she could not quite understand how anyone, or anypony, could wield such power and not wish to laud the fact over others did not mean that it was not how power and majesty ought to be wielded.

Far from it, like as not.

And yet, over and over again, her eyes turned even from Princess Celestia to Sunset Shimmer. Sunset, who commented on all the things that had stayed the same and pointed out every change, Sunset in her natural state, Sunset who belonged here. Sunset who was home.

Sunset, who was home and had no cause to ever leave again if she did not wish to. Sunset who could stay.

Sunset, who had no need of Cinder.

She had to tell her. She had to tell Sunset, honestly and with no dissembling or obfuscating or aught else. She had, as Starlight had counselled her, to bare her heart, with all her armour taken off and thrown clattering down.

She had to tell Sunset that she wished to share her life, from now until life ended.

And hope that Sunset felt the same way.

High Table

High Table

“Thank you, for your assistance with this,” Cinder murmured as she examined her draconic reflection in the mirror. “There are certain concessions that I am prepared to make – stranger in a strange land, when in Mistral, and so on and so forth – but I am afraid that dining with a princess at her table completely naked is not one of them.”

Rarity chuckled. “Oh, you don’t need to explain yourself to me, darling; I completely understand.” She paused. “Well, perhaps I don’t fully understand your reasons or your own cultural taboos, but I understand that there can be a lot of fun in dressing up even when it might not be strictly required, don’t you think?”

“Surely,” Cinder said, “that depends upon who one is dressing up for.”

“One dresses up for oneself, darling, obviously,” Rarity declared.

Cinder smiled. “Obviously,” she conceded. She paused for a moment. “When… when my mother was alive, my parents were forever going to parties. She was an officer, a pilot in the… well, you wouldn’t understand what I meant if I told you who she served under. Do you even know what a pilot is?”

“Someone who flies airships,” Rarity replied.

Cinder had seen what passed for an Equestrian airship in the skies over Canterlot: pretty enough for what was essentially an ornate basket hanging from a gasbag, but probably rather slow and lumbering in the air and certainly nothing like what might be called an airship in Remnant. However, it would have accomplished nothing to try and educate Rarity upon the difference except to lead them very far off-topic and into the weeds, and so she said, “More or less, yes. She served on the base but lived in the city beyond with my father, a gentleman. I’m assuming that gentlemen don’t work here in Equestria?”

Sunset’s social attitudes were those of a Mistralian aristocrat in every respect bar racism – and even then, racist attitudes were dying in Mistral far quicker than they were in Atlas, for whatever reason – so Cinder felt on reasonably safe ground in assuming some degree of equivalence of social structure.

“A man,” Rarity murmured. “That’s what you call a stallion, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then the word is gentlecolt here in Equestria,” Rarity informed her. “As to whether or not they work… no, not really, at least not in my experience. Some may choose to, but even then, like Twilight, they’re more likely to devote themselves to pursuits which, while useful-”

“Don’t necessarily put money in the purse,” Cinder finished for her. “Yes, I know what you mean. The philosopher in his study, freed from financial constraints or concerns to unravel the secrets of the universe.”

“Or the philosopher of magic in her castle, as the case may be,” Rarity replied. “But do go on, darling.”

Cinder took a moment to think about where she had been and to what point she had been aiming. “Yes, as I was saying, when my parents – when my mother, to be more specific – when my mother lived, she and my father were forever attending parties at the base: Spouses and Sweethearts Night in the Officers’ Mess, the Officers and Sergeants Ball, General Colton’s Birthday, Town and Base Night where they hosted the civic dignitaries… I was very young at the time, but I’m sure they can’t have all been compulsory for all the officers, especially since my mother wasn’t of particularly high rank. What I remember, apart from the fact that they went to all of these functions when I doubt that they had to, is that my mother was always dressing up for them. She didn’t have to do that either.”

“I thought you had a taboo against nakedness?” Rarity asked.

Cinder snorted. “I mean she could have worn her uniform,” she explained. “Or perhaps her dress uniform, which – somewhat confusingly – has nothing to do with a dress whatsoever, even for women – mares, as you say. But she didn’t wear her uniform, at least not often that I can recall. She liked to dress up, as I say; I used to watch her from the dressing room doorway sometimes, putting on this frock or that gown, blushing up her cheeks, arranging her hair… choosing a necklace out of her jewellery box.” Cinder frowned. “I wonder if she regretted it, as she died? All that wasted time.”

“'Wasted'?” Rarity repeated, sounding puzzled to hear it so described.

Cinder looked down at her. “It didn’t help her,” she pointed out. “It didn’t save her. She died, and none of the parties or the frocks could change that.”

“We all die, eventually,” Rarity said. “Unless, that is, one happens to ascend into an alicorn in close proximity to a powerful magical artefact, it seems,” she murmured dryly. “But, for the rest of us, surely the main point is to enjoy oneself before we die. Did your mother enjoy herself?”

“I think she must have,” Cinder said, “or else why keep going back?”

“Then I doubt that she regretted it at all,” Rarity said. “And why should she?”

“An attitude which, I have no doubt, helps you sell a great many more dresses than would otherwise be the case,” Cinder drawled.

“Pshaw, darling, you impugn me!” Rarity cried. She paused, her voice softening. “It is because I believe that that I sell dresses, not the other way around. There is nothing to be ashamed of in seeking beauty, never anything at all.”

“There are worse things to seek, I suppose,” Cinder murmured. “And yet…”

“Yes, dear?”

Cinder frowned. “What good is enjoying yourself, seeking pleasure, seeking beauty, when it can all be taken away from you in an instant?” Cinder asked. “Perhaps my mother did enjoy herself while she lived… but she died, before her time, because she had no power to keep herself safe in the face of danger.”

The same might even have been said of her stepmother. Lady Kommenos had not seemed to enjoy herself nearly as much as Cinder’s own mother had, but nevertheless, she had indulged her pleasures as best she could, but that indulgence had not spared her from Cinder’s wrath: all that she had had turned to ashes – quite literally – in moments. It had not even spared her from humiliation at the hands of Lady Nikos, who had the power to deny Lady Kommenos that which she sought by virtue of her stronger, swifter, infinitely more skilled-in-combat daughter.

The pursuit of pleasure over power might make you happier in the short term, but in the long term, if you did not have power, then your pleasure could be taken from you in a moment.

Rarity was silent for a moment. “I think you must come from a rather cruel world where other ponies seek to take things from others simply because they can; in Equestria, only the worst sorts would dream of behaving in such a way.”

“Then I envy you,” Cinder murmured. She smiled, “But then, I already did.”

Rarity smiled up at her. “And besides,” she added, “in a kind world, there is no reason why both cannot be pursued at the same time.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “This is going to be something to do with friendship, isn’t it?”

Rarity chuckled. “By pursuing my dreams, I strengthen my bonds with others, and they in turn assist me when I need them; it isn’t complicated, darling.”

“No,” Cinder conceded, “but it is belaboured, at times.”

And yet, that didn’t mean that it was wrong, simply because it was belaboured. She thought about Pyrrha and how she had nearly died fighting by Cinder’s side during the Battle of Vale. Either Amber or Cinder could have killed her, for they had been half maidens, and what power did she have by comparison? None at all, none that could stand against the Fall Maiden’s magic. Either one of them could have killed her, down there in the dark. And yet, Cinder had saved her from Amber, and then spared Pyrrha’s life when she was at Cinder’s mercy because… because Pyrrha’s life was worth living, even if she could not protect it with her own strength.

And then Sunset gave her my power the moment she had the chance.

Yes, I am still sore about that; I have the right to be!

She returned to her reflection in the mirror. “Do you have many dragon customers?”

“No,” Rarity said. “I sometimes make little suits for Spike, but of course, that’s quite a different thing than a dress. And, in any case, you and he may be temporarily of the same species, but you’re of rather a different order of size. No, this has proven to be quite a novel experience for me.”

“I’d never have guessed,” Cinder said, because Rarity had actually done rather well, considering her lack of experience with Cinder’s species – or bipeds in general, Cinder would hazard.

Since her scales were red, her habitual colour had been denied to her, but fortunately, black still suited her quite well in this new form. And so, she wore a black cocktail dress that pooled upon the floor behind her and upon her tail but which had a long slit up the front to expose her legs and allow her to move freely. A belt of golden links fastened it around her waist, and the whole dress sparkled in the candlelight with tiny moonstones stitched into the fabric, so that it looked almost as if she were wearing the night sky full of stars. Unfortunately, her form was such that ‘form-fitting’ didn’t exactly mean what it would have in Remnant, and the very low, swooping V-neck wasn’t nearly as daring or as sexy as it would have been if she’d still had breasts, but considering the physical restraints that she was working under, Rarity had done a splendid job.

“As I say,” she said, “you have my thanks.” She paused for a moment. “Will anyone else be dressing up for tonight, or will be alone and quite overdressed?”

“A lady is never embarrassed by being too well-dressed,” Rarity assured her.

“I’m not quite sure that’s true,” Cinder replied.

“I am never embarrassed by being too well-dressed,” Rarity declared, “and I am frequently too well-dressed.”

“I admire your iron sense of self that no amount of misfortune can bring down,” Cinder said dryly, “but do you think anyone else will bother to dress?”

Rarity hesitated for a moment. “Princess Celestia rarely bothers to dress,” she admitted. “Or at least, she rarely bothers to dress more than she does habitually, but Twilight has been known to pretty herself from time to time. And I rather hope she does; I made her a gorgeous gown for my birthday, but there was a most inconsiderate monster attack, and we had to cancel the party.”

Cinder frowned. “You made Twilight a dress… for your own birthday?”

“Well, naturally,” Rarity declared, as though Cinder’s confusion was completely baseless. “It would have been rude of me to have set a dress code without making sure that everypony had something suitable to wear… and besides, without wishing to name names or speak ill of any of my friends, if I didn’t make the effort with some of these ponies, they’d never wear anything at all.”

“How awful,” Cinder muttered. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What’s it like to live so free of the fear that one day someone might take everything you have, everything that makes you happy, simply because they can?” Cinder asked. “What’s it like living free of the fear that, one day, everything that matters, every scrap of joy that you possess in the world, might simply disappear and blow away like ashes on the wind?”

Rarity was silent for a moment. “Better than the alternative, I imagine,” she said softly.

“Oh, to be sure,” Cinder agreed. She fluffed at her hair with her claws for a moment, brushing it out of her eye and then pushing it back to cover her eye up again. Yes, that was better. It wasn’t as though she’d need the peripheral vision at dinner, after all.

Dinner with Princess Celestia. Dinner with the ruler of this whole nation. Dinner with someone who could, by some magic – literally – move the sun in the sky, it was… it was incredible. It was a power that not even Salem would have dreamt of, a power that not even the gods of Remnant had possessed, and yet, this pony princess – a rather unassuming princess, in some respects – wielded it as though it were nothing at all.

Cinder still wasn’t sure that she believed it.

But even if it were not so, she was still a princess, a ruler… and Sunset’s mother in every way that mattered. Those things alone gave cause for a degree of nervousness.

In times of strain or stress or nervousness, she liked to remind herself that she was Cinder Fall, with all that implied… unfortunately, being Cinder Fall with all that implied was cause for some of her nervousness around Princess Celestia. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have a past, and it was hardly a past that the princess of so peaceful and merry a realm as this was likely to approve of.

Perhaps she will take pity on me.

What a comforting thought, that pity is the best I can hope for here.

Perhaps she will be so taken to have Sunset returned that she will not notice me at all.

What a comforting thought that that is the best I can hope for here.

But I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad; we are here for Sunset, after all.

Yes. Let Sunset be the sun and draw all eyes towards her like the flowers. Let her cast a shadow over me and throw a shade over all my misdeeds that they may go unremarked upon.

There was a knock on the door of the guestroom that Cinder had been given here in the palace. Cardin’s voice issued from the other side. “Cinder? You’re in here, right?”

“Yes,” Cinder answered, “here I am.” She turned away from the mirror to face the door, but Rarity’s horn flared with a brilliant blue light, gripping the door with magic before Cinder could get any closer.

The door opened, revealing Cardin dressed in a suit that, aside from only covering his upper body and leaving his flank and hind legs bare, managed to look incredibly like Beacon’s formalwear: a black jacket, a grey waistcoat, and a white dress shirt with a red bowtie around his neck.

Cinder folded her reptilian arms. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who thought to dress.”

“I’m not an animal,” Cardin muttered as he walked inside. He blinked. “Um, no offence.”

“I shall try to avoid taking any,” Rarity murmured. “I would compliment you on your attire, but – as ironic as it may seem for a dressmaker to say so – I’ve always found that manners show finer than any glittering raiment.”

“I’m sorry,” Cardin said, “it’s just… not easy to get used to. Of all the things that I thought might happen to me in my life, turning into a talking horse was definitely not one of them.”

“Was anything that’s happened since we left Vale something you expected?” Cinder asked.

“No,” Cardin acknowledged. “But that doesn’t make this any easier to deal with.” He paused. “I’d say that you look nice, but… you know that I’m not into that kind of thing, right?”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “Yes, Cardin, I understand your meaning perfectly.” And besides, you’re not exactly my type.

“Good,” Cardin replied. “I hope you appreciate how lucky you are.”

Cinder smirked. “Certainly I appreciate my good fortune in not being you, but did you have something more specific in mind?”

Cardin scowled. “Ha ha; I meant having arms. Having hands. I have to try and figure out how to eat with these things, and I have to figure it out at a formal dinner!”

“Just watch what everyone else is doing,” Cinder suggested.

“Like the parvenu who has to wait for everyone else to start eating because he doesn’t know which fork to use with which course?” Cardin asked. “Everyone makes fun of that guy.”

“And just like that, you have reduced our entire society yet further in Rarity’s estimations,” Cinder murmured.

“Unfortunately not, darling; similar things happen here,” Rarity said with a slight trace of a sigh in her voice.

“And here I thought this place was a paradise,” Cinder said.

“By comparison with your world, perhaps,” Rarity replied. “From what I’ve heard… snobbery is our vice, here in Equestria, but it does not touch the hem of the robe of some of your vices.”

Cardin coughed into one hoof, and a frown settled on his face as he walked into the guestroom. “Are you, um, are you coming down to dinner with us, ma’am?”

“No, I’m dining with Sassy Saddles, the manager of my Canterlot Boutique,” Rarity explained. “We have some matters to discuss regarding the forthcoming Summer Collection.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cinder observed.

Rarity looked at her, one eyebrow rising.

Cinder smiled. “It would have been a terrible sign if even the dressmaker was not bothering to dress for dinner.”

Rarity covered her mouth with one pale hoof as a chuckle escaped her mouth. “Oh, I will be changing for dinner – we are dining at the Polo Club, after all – but I have an hour yet before our reservation, so I had plenty of time to help you get ready.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You two, on the other hoof, had best be going. Do you need me to show you the way?”

“No, thank you; we can find our way there,” Cinder assured her.

“We can?” Cardin asked.

“I only need to walk a route once to remember it perfectly,” Cinder declared. It was a skill that had come in handy in her former life.

“I’ll let you lead the way, then,” Cardin muttered.

“You do that,” Cinder instructed him, before looking at Rarity once more. “Thank you,” she said again, bowing her head. “For the dress and for your company.”

Rarity inclined her own head in return. “Have a good time. Both of you,” she added, with a sideways glance at Cardin.

The door had been left open after Cardin’s entrance, and Cinder let Cardin trail a step behind her as she made her way to the door and stepped out into the corridor beyond. The palace was tastefully decorated, with red carpets over checkerboard tiles, and walls painted in cool blues, trimmed with gold and hung about with tapestries. Occasionally, they passed a guard in gleaming armour, but none of them challenged Cinder or Cardin’s right to be there; in fact, they didn’t say anything at all, but simply stood at their posts, stock still, as though they themselves were made of metal and not just their armour.

“So,” Cinder said, as she led the way, “where did you get the suit?”

“Princess Celestia had it sent to my room,” Cardin said. “Apparently, it belongs to her nephew.”

“Really?” Cinder asked. “I’m surprised it looks so… appropriate.”

“I got lucky, I guess,” Cardin said. “Maybe they have a Beacon in this world, and the Princess’ nephew goes there.”

“I doubt that,” Cinder said. “What use would a world like this have for a school like Beacon?”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “I mean… that’s a fair point,” he admitted. “But so much else gets copied from one world to the other, why not the schools? Doesn’t it feel weird that they’re the only thing that isn’t carried over?”

“So far, the only places that we know have, as you say, carried over, are Mantle and Canterlot,” Cinder pointed out. “No Vale, no Mistral, not even an Atlas, and if no Vale, then why should there be a Beacon?”

Cardin didn’t reply directly; instead, he asked, “Why do you think it is?”

“Why do I think what is?”

“Why does some stuff get carried over and other stuff doesn’t?” Cardin explained. “Why Canterlot and Mantle but no Atlas?”

“Any answer that either of us could come up with would be no more than idle speculation,” Cinder declared. “We might as well ask why anything is duplicated between the two worlds.”

“I mean, that’s not a bad question either,” Cardin muttered.

“One which, to repeat, we have no means of answering.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Do you think there are versions of us?”

Cinder stopped, looking back at Cardin over her shoulder. “Hmm?”

“Come on,” Cardin insisted. “You really mean to tell me that you haven’t thought about it? There’s another Twilight Sparkle, another Rainbow Dash, our Sunset is the other Sunset Shimmer, and I swear that I’ve seen a guard around here who looks a hell of a lot like Pyrrha Nikos-“

“How could you possibly tell that a pony looked like Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Because she wore her hair the same, and she had a circlet on her brow,” Cardin said, as though it was obvious.

“Hmm, I can see why you came to that conclusion,” Cinder admitted grudgingly.

“The point is, doesn’t that mean that there should be versions of us around somewhere?”

“I sincerely hope not,” said Cinder.

“Really?” Cardin asked. “You’re not curious at all.”

“Curious about what?” Cinder demanded.

“Everything,” Cardin said. “How your life might have turned out differently if-“

“If what? If we were born in a world without grimm, without monsters, without suffering?” Cinder cried. “If we were born in a world that valued us upon our merits, where life was more than just a scramble for survival? If we were born in a world that valued song and good cheer over gold and jewels and… and power?” What would that tell her? Either that, in a world without misfortune, a world where her parents lived or where stepmothers were not so wicked, she could have been a good person. Or it would tell her that she was always fated to go bad, to be a rotten apple in the barrel. Neither prospect was very inviting to Cinder. “There may be someone in this world who shares my name,” – although she hoped not, given that she had taken the name Cinder Fall for herself after murdering her stepmother and stepsister. It would be better to say that there might be someone who had the name that Cinder had once possessed, but Cardin didn’t know that particular aspect of her past, and Cinder was in no mood to share it with him. “There may be someone who physically resembles me, but she is not me, any more than the Queen of Freeport was our Sunset. I am myself, and you are you, and there is only one of each of us.”

“But-“

“If you found out that there was a Cardin Winchester who lived in the lap of luxury, who was married to Skystar, who didn’t need to risk his life fighting monsters or trying to save the world, would that knowledge make you happy?” Cinder asked. “Would it bring you any peace or joy at all?”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Precisely my point,” Cinder said. “Now come on, we’re almost there.”

Before the dining hall, there lay two staircases, converging from the different wings of the palace into a single staircase leading down into the hall proper. Cinder and Cardin approached from the west, and opposite them on the eastern stair, they found the princesses waiting for them with Sunset.

Princess Celestia had not bothered to dress up; she wore the golden crown upon her brow, the golden necklace adorned with its glittering amethyst around her neck, the gilded slippers on her hooves, but no more than that. She wore no dress, no cloak, nothing at all but what Cinder had always seen her wear. Twilight wore a golden coronet, with a six-pointed star of purple set proud upon it, but no other jewels set upon it that Cinder could make out.

The little dragon, Spike, was dressed much like Cardin in a suit and bowtie, although without the waistcoat. He was so small that it looked rather comical on him to Cinder’s eyes, like one of those dogs dressed up by overly indulgent owners in Atlas… although the fact that he was a dog in Remnant might be colouring her views a little bit; Cinder could concede that possibility.

Sunset was no more dressed up than either of the two princesses, which surprised Cinder somewhat, considering that Sunset was… well, Sunset. She would hardly have attended Lady Nikos’ dining table improperly dressed, and Cinder knew full well that she was not averse to dressing up when the occasion demanded. And yet, here she was, as naked as her birth.

That, more than anything else, made Cinder fear that she was overdressed.

And, contrary to anything that Rarity might say, it was a little embarrassing.

Nevertheless, she put on a strut as she walked down the stairs, grabbing onto her skirt with one hand and swishing it a little as she walked.

She had no idea how it looked when a dragon did this, but it had to be better than creeping meekly downwards and apologising for having bothered to dress.

As she reached the point where the two staircases joined, and with the princesses and Sunset – and Spike – descending the other staircase to meet them, Cinder bowed to Princess Celestia.

She bowed in the Mistralian fashion, with one hand clenched into a fist and placed upon her heart, but as a flourish – and in concession to the fact that she was a dragon now and might as well make the most of it while it was so – she spread her wings out wide as she bent her back, spreading them out like arms even while her actual arm stayed close to her side.

“Princess Celestia,” she purred, “thank you for your warm welcome, and for the gracious hospitality that we have received and are about to receive.”

“Yes,” Cardin agreed, as he too bowed, albeit with far less panache than Cinder had demonstrated – at least in her own opinion. “Thank you for receiving us.”

Princess Celestia's face was set, even, and without much expression upon it that Cinder could tell – and these ponies had rather expressive faces, so she could hardly excuse it on those grounds. No, if Princess Celestia was giving very little away, it was because she wished to give little away.

No doubt she would rather it were Pyrrha who had come home with her daughter. Someone gently born.

No, let me not excuse it either on those grounds; if she would rather it were Pyrrha standing before than myself, it is because she would rather it were someone kind.

It is a little late to prove that I am that, but perhaps I can prove to her that I am no more the villain that I was, or that she might think me to be.

"You are welcome, of course," Princess Celestia declared. "As any friends of Sunset's would be." She turned away, and it was only as she turned away and began to sweep down the stairs that any trace of a smile appeared upon the princess' face. "Now, shall we go in?"

Princess Twilight Sparkle and the dragon Spike followed on after her, as did Cardin. Sunset lingered for a moment on the stairs with Cinder.

"I'm not sure that she likes me very much," Cinder observed.

Sunset frowned. "Why wouldn't she like you?"

"I… have not always treated you… very nicely," Cinder reminded her understatedly.

Sunset snorted. "This is Equestria; we practice forgiveness here."

"If you didn't, I doubt that I would be here," Cinder conceded, "but it may be easier to forgive one who has injured us than to forgive one who has injured one we care for."

"That's-"

"Undeniable," Cinder declared. "Would you have forgiven me if I'd killed Pyrrha?"

Sunset did not reply.

"No," Cinder said. "I didn't think you would, and would have been rather disappointed if you had, to be frank."

"You haven't killed me," Sunset pointed out.

"No," Cinder allowed. "But I have hurt you. I'm not saying this to criticise the princess – I'm not sure that I could forgive me either for what I've done to you – but nevertheless, I don't think she likes me very much."

The frown remained on Sunset's face for a moment, before her expression brightened as she changed the subject. "You look nice."

Cinder smirked. "I always look nice," she said proudly. "Now, we'd best not keep their highnesses waiting… or should I say 'their other highnesses waiting,' Your Highness."

"Stop it."

Cinder chuckled. "You're a princess now; you must allow me to tease you a little bit upon account of it."

"Very well, but you've used up your quota for the night."

"As the princess commands."

"I'm warning you."

Fresh lavender was set in the walls of the dining hall, filling the air with a sweet scent that masked any smell that might otherwise have wafted through from the kitchens. The table, set with a pristine white tablecloth and with plates and shining silver cutlery already laid out, was long – too long for the size of the dinner party. None of Princess Twilight's friends were in attendance, save for Spike, no one but Princess Celestia, Princess Twilight, Spike, Sunset, Cardin, and Cinder herself.

It meant a lot of empty spaces at the table.

Princess Celestia sat at the head of said table, with Princess Twilight upon her right and Sunset upon her left; they did not sit in chairs but simply sat down upon their haunches with their tucked up on either side of them. Chairs had been set out in the two places to the left of Princess Twilight, and Cinder took one while Spike took the other, leaving Cardin to sit awkwardly upon the floor – as the ponies did – next to Sunset.

"I hope you don't mind that I have not welcomed you with a banquet," Princess Celestia said. "I would prefer not to have to share you with too many others, and besides-"

"It would raise a lot of questions that you would prefer were not asked," Sunset finished. She smiled. "It's quite alright, Princess; I don't really want to have to share you either."

Twilight chuckled. "Formal events may be necessary," she said, "and I'm sure that some people enjoy them, but when what you really want is to spend time with a friend, a beloved teacher, or a… a mom," – a faint flush rose to her cheeks as she added that last part – "then all of the formality can be a real hindrance. I remember, more than a year ago, when my friends and I were first invited to the Grand Galloping Gala-"

Sunset leaned forward. "Did you have to stand next to the princess all night?"

"Yes!" Twilight cried eagerly. "I had spent literally months looking forward to this-"

"They all had," Spike added. "They all thought that their dreams were going to come true."

"Really?" Cinder asked. "At a gala?"

Spike nodded. "Applejack was going to make so much money that she could fix up everything on the farm, Rainbow was going to get into the Wonderbolts, Rarity was going to marry the prince-"

"Yes, thank you Spike!" Twilight squawked. "We were very naïve at the time, I admit."

Cinder folded her arms. "How was Applejack planning to make money at a gala?"

"Selling pies and stuff," Spike said.

"But surely there were-"

"Very naïve," Twilight repeated heavily. "We've all grown up a great deal since then."

"I can well believe it," Cinder murmured; it seemed hard to think of the Rarity that she had met expecting that she would fall in love and marry a prince after a single night at a ball. It wasn't immediately clear to her that the Rarity she had met would even want to. "But please, Princess, continue; I've interrupted you."

"It's fine," Princess Twilight assured her. "This is a conversation, not a monologue. But yes, as Spike reminds me, we had all spent so long looking forward to that night. I wanted to tell Princess Celestia everything that I'd learned, everything that had happened to me, everything that had happened to her; after being away in Ponyville, I just wanted to spend the night with her. But instead-"

"Instead, you got stuck standing next to the princess like a statue while an incessant parade of ponies came up the stairs to greet the princess," Sunset said.

"Happen to you too, huh?" Twilight asked.

Sunset nodded, glancing at Princess Celestia. "Princess, I'm not sure why you even have us there."

Princess Celestia sighed. "It is probably rather foolish of me to think that I might get even a few moments to snatch with my faithful student, but I live in hope."

"You did more than hope that year," Twilight muttered.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "What's this now?"

"It turned out that Princess Celestia invited me and my friends so that we would ruin the gala," Twilight said.

"I did not invite you to ruin the gala," Princess Celestia replied. "I merely hoped that you might… liven it up a little." She paused, a smirk fleeting across her features. "Although, as awful as the gala is, would either of you blame me if I did set out to ruin it, just one time?"

Cinder glanced across the table at Cardin and found that her confusion was mirrored upon his face. "If you dislike this gala so much, then why bother to hold it at all, Your Highness?"

"Why bother with any of the palace social functions?" Princess Celestia asked. "Other ponies get something from it, and for the most part, I am not inclined to curb their pleasures, for all that they are not mine. But I think that after a thousand years, I'm allowed to kick against the tedium just once."

Sunset grinned. Her green eyes gleamed mischievously as she asked, "So, Twilight, how did you and your friends ruin the gala?"

Twilight was spared the need to answer that – at least right away – when the food was brought in, ponies wheeling trolleys laden with covered platters out into the dining halls. The wheels of the trolleys barely squeaked at all as they were pushed into position.

The ponies, dressed in waistcoats and bowties, used their forehooves – these were all earth ponies, like Cardin – to lift the platters off the trolleys and set them down deftly before the diners.

The lids were lifted off the platters. Sunset, Twilight, Princess Celestia, and Cardin all had a plate of salad set before them.

Cinder had a platter of jewels and gems.

She stared down at the stones that had been set before her. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, all gleamed up at her, sparkling in the light of the candles set in their sconces on the wall.

Cinder glanced across the table at Cardin, but he was too engrossed in staring at his own hooves to notice her predicament. She glanced at the princesses and Sunset, but they too had failed to notice – or at least none of them seemed inclined to comment upon it.

Cinder looked down at the jewels once more. In the same way that Cardin didn't want to be the person who clearly doesn't know how to conduct themselves at a high table dinner, Cinder didn't want to be the one who berated the chef for serving the gazpacho soup cold. But equally… well, she would have liked to have had something to eat for dinner.

And so she kept her voice quiet, and her tone soft and courteous as she said, "Excuse me, but I think someone has mixed up dinner with the crown jewels."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Ah! Sorry, I should have explained-"

"And I should have remembered that you did not know," Princess Celestia added. "In this world, gems and jewels are the favoured food of dragons."

Cinder blinked. "Dragons… eat treasure?"

"Yeah!" Spike declared enthusiastically, and when she looked at him, Cinder saw that he had a bowl of gemstones in front of him. He plucked an emerald out of the bowl and stuck it into his mouth. There was a very audible crunching sound before he swallowed. "They're delicious!"

"Hmm," Cinder murmured sceptically, looking down at her own meal. "In the stories of my world, dragons hoard treasure."

"They do that here too, some of them," Princess Twilight said. "But as food for hibernation, the same way bears do."

"I see," Cinder said quietly.

"If you don't want them, I'll take 'em," Spike said.

"Spike!" Princess Twilight rebuked him. "Don't be greedy."

"I'm sorry, Cinder," Princess Celestia said. "It was a mistake to treat you like a dragon when you only have the appearance of one. I will have the chefs make you something else."

"There is no need, Princess, for either you or your chefs to exert yourself on my account," Cinder assured her. "You say that I only wear the appearance of a dragon; I say no: I have always been a dragon; now my outer form reflects my inner self. That being the case, it behooves me to act like it, without pretence." She plucked a particularly large diamond up from the plate and briefly held it up to the light. It was a deep ocean blue and brilliantly cut, verging upon heart-shaped. It was such a gem as the likes of Jacques Schnee would buy for his wife, such as ladies in Mistral would pay small fortunes for to dazzle in at the Steward's Palace or their boxes in the colosseum. And yet, here it was, being served up to her for dinner as part of a king's ransom in such jewels, a moment's pleasure to devour and then gone.

Hopefully, that sound I heard from Spike wasn't his teeth breaking, Cinder thought. Ah, well, I have bitten off more than I can chew before. She tossed the diamond into her mouth and bit down hard.

There was a surprisingly satisfying crunch and then… who knew that diamond could taste so good? It wasn't like eating rock ought to taste, it wasn't hard or cold or sharp, it didn't feel as though it was about to tear apart her tongue, it felt… it felt good. It felt sweet, bizarrely, like a chocolate egg with rich and creamy caramel inside just waiting once you cracked the shell. It was wet and warm and nothing like what it ought to have felt like and yet it did.

And it was incredible.

Cinder looked down at Spike.

"Told you," Spike said smugly.

Cinder couldn't restrain a laugh. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, you did."

She tucked in. Each gem, she discovered, had its own distinctive taste: spicy rubies that took a moment for the taste to hit you, sour emeralds that landed hard upon the tongue, soft and velvety amethysts, delicate and refreshing sapphires. Each were different, each in their own way quite delicious. Cinder found that the tastes were so surprising, and intoxicating in how surprising, that she often found herself carried away by them, far from the conversation going on at the dinner table.

Nobody at the table seemed to mind that she was eating with her hands; spooning the gems up seemed redundant, and using a knife or fork pointless in the extreme. Cardin was not so lucky; he struggled with using the cutlery with his hooves, which everyone affected not to notice until he knocked both knife and fork down onto the floor.

All conversation at the dining table ceased as the clatter of silverware on the floor echoed about the dining hall like the firing of a cannon.

Princess Celestia looked upwards towards the ceiling. Princess Twilight looked as if she didn't know where to look.

Cardin huffed loudly, and by the reddening of his face, he seemed to be biting back a desire to curse.

Sunset glanced at him, and after a moment, she set her own cutlery – the knife and fork she had been manipulating via telekinesis – aside, and bent her head down to plate to start grabbing and chewing on it directly with her mouth, like a far less intelligent animal might have done whilst grazing in the fields.

Princess Celestia looked at her for a moment, and then with a faint smile playing about her face, she too bent her head down to her plate and commenced grazing.

Princess Twilight followed suit almost immediately after.

For a moment, Cardin looked rather chagrined at being condescended to in this way, but once that moment passed, he clearly – and rightly, in Cinder's view – decided to take what was being offered to him and started to devour the salad on his plate with great gusto.

Dessert, when it came, was pancakes, with silly faces picked out in the fruit and cream.

A fond smile appeared on Sunset's face. "You're still doing the decorations yourself, I see, Princess."

Princess Celestia chuckled. "A little amusement at the start of the day – or at the end of it – never hurt anypony."

She really was a very unusual monarch.

And yet, she was, nevertheless, a monarch, as Cinder was reminded at the end of the night when Princess Celestia said, "Cinder, may I speak with you alone for a moment."

Ah. I suppose something like this was always likely, Cinder thought. She bowed her head. "Of course, Your Majesty."

Sunset frowned. "Princess-"

"Sunset," Cinder said softly. "It's fine."

Princess Celestia's gaze was fixed on Cinder, but it was nevertheless to Sunset that she said, "It will only be for a little while, Sunset, I promise."

Nevertheless, Sunset did not look entirely easy as she, Princess Twilight, Cardin, and Spike all took their leave out of the dining hall, leaving Celestia and Cinder alone.

Well, not quite alone, not at first: the servants moved silently throughout the room, clearing everything away, and while they were about their work, Celestia too was silent, so that the only sound in the great hall was the clinking of cups and plates and cutlery being cleared away.

Then the servants departed, the doors closed behind them for the final time, and they really were alone. And the room really was silent.

Princess Celestia got to her feet, turning away from Cinder as she walked to the latticed windows that looked out over the city. It was dark outside; it had been dark without ere they sat down to dinner – clearly, she who raised and lowered the sun had lowered it before coming down – and the moonlight shone in through the windows to send a long shadow trailing out behind her. Her mane and tail rippled softly, as though a wind that Cinder could not feel passed through them.

Cinder stood up, regretting the noise that her chair made scraping along the floor as she pushed it back, but somehow, it felt improper to be sitting when the ruling princess was about to have some words for you from upon her feet – or hooves.

She hesitated. "Princess-"

"Tell me about Amber," Princess Celestia said, her voice sharper than it had been at dinner and lacking all its warmth.

Cinder did not respond.

"Well?" Princess Celestia asked, her back to Cinder still.

"I doubt that you'd be asking if Sunset hadn't told you everything," Cinder replied.

"You attacked her," Princess Celestia declared.

Cinder glanced down at the floor beneath her claws. "Yes, I did."

"An innocent girl," Princess Celestia said. "One who had done you no wrong."

"That… is correct."

"You stole her magic."

"Some of it."

"And left her in a sleep like death," Princess Celestia said, "dying, and left Professor Ozpin so desperate that he was willing to sacrifice another innocent girl to keep yet more power out of your hands."

"That is upon him, not me," Cinder replied.

"You drove him to it!" Princess Celestia snapped, rounding upon Cinder with fire burning in her magenta eyes. She took a deep breath. "You drove him to it," she repeated. "You put the fear in him and made him so desperate that he would do almost anything, no matter how cruel."

"It did not come to pass," Cinder murmured. "Sunset… saved them both, Amber and Pyrrha."

"And yet, Amber was so damaged, so broken by what you had done to her that she forsook and betrayed he who had always loved her best and lost her life in the process."

"Are all things to be laid at my door?" Cinder demanded.

"Where you began them, yes," Princess Celestia declared. She paused for a moment. "Tell me about Mountain Glenn."

"What upsets Your Highness more, that I threatened a city with destruction or that I made Sunset complicit in it?" Cinder asked. "What would you have of me, Princess? You know my crimes as well as any, it seems; you would not bring them up if Sunset had not given you the details. So what would you have of me? An admission of guilt for things you already know that I am guilty of?"

"Perhaps some remorse," Princess Celestia suggested. "We are a forgiving race, here in Equestria, but nevertheless, even we believe that there are some things which are beyond forgiveness. Sunset has found it in her heart to forgive you, but when I think of what you have done, I must confess… if you were one of my subjects, I would be tempted to have you bound in Tartarus in penalty for your actions."

Cinder didn't know what or where Tartarus was, but the context was clear enough that she felt no need to ask. She licked the scales that surrounded her mouth. "In truth," she said quietly, "you might be right to do so. More right than Sunset is in forgiving me so easily."

Princess Celestia approached closer, walking away from the window and back towards the dining table.

The princess said nothing, but Cinder took it as an invitation to go on. "All that you accuse me of, I have done, and more. I murdered my stepmother and, eventually, both my stepsisters; I killed men, I pledged myself to the service of a monster and made myself an enemy of the world; I attacked Amber, who was no enemy to me, who did not know me, who had, as you say, done me no harm, and I subjected her to monstrous torment. I deceived Sunset as to who I was and what my intentions were. I hated those who had given me no cause to hate them and sought their deaths. I threatened Vale with destruction and made Sunset a party to the act so that she would become as vile as I was, as vile as I wished her to be. And I only turned away from that path because I was betrayed by my mistress, who thought little of me and sought to throw me aside. I am Cinder Fall, who sought to bring about the end of all things in fire and blood, and in your place, Princess Celestia, I don't think I'd give me the benefit of the doubt either."

"Why did you do it?"

"Does it matter?" Cinder asked. "Would any reason I might give make my actions less monstrous?"

"Nevertheless, I would hear them," Princess Celestia said.

Cinder stepped away from the table, swishing her tale behind her as she did so. "I had been hurt," she said, "and wished to make sure that none could ever hurt me again."

"And so you hurt others," Princess Celestia said softly.

"Yes," Cinder murmured hoarsely. I passed my pain on, to those unfortunate enough to cross my path.

“Do you regret it?”

Cinder replied, “You know, Sunset’s never asked me that. I hope… I hope she’s not afraid of what the answer might be.”

“I would like to know the answer,” Celestia said, firmly if not forcefully.

Cinder was silent for a moment. Did she regret? Well, that depended on what, in specific, she was being asked to regret. Her actions were like rolling hills, undulating in severity. “I do not regret what I did to my stepfamily,” she said. “They deserved worse than I, or the law of Mistral, could have done to them… and it was clear to me even as a child that the law could not be relied upon to do aught to them. As I say, I do not regret it; I did… it was just, what I did to them, though it was perhaps not legal. I was a fury in those moments, an avenger, an upholder of the ancient laws, and I do not regret it.” That was easily said and sincerely meant; it was not hard to say that she had been right to burn down the house of Lady Kommenos, to kill Phoebe, but for the rest? “For what I did to Sunset, for what I plotted to do to Pyrrha, for what I schemed and worked towards, I… yes, I do regret… but you may be disappointed – or affirmed in your prejudices; I do not know just how low your opinion of me is – that I regret as much for myself as for Sunset. I am sorry that I put Sunset through so much anguish, that I manipulated her down a dark path, that I made her feel responsible for several deaths… but I regret that not only for Sunset’s own sake but for own. When I think of that semester at Beacon, when I think of that time we spent in lies and deceptions… with hindsight, it all seems wasted. If… if we had both been able to see one another as we were right from the start… how much closer could we have been? If I hadn’t wasted so much time on fruitless envy of Pyrrha Nikos, if I had taken the scales out of my eyes and seen her as she really was, seen the world for what it really was, if I had seen her true good fortune for what it was and not what I wished it to be, then… again, I might have spared myself much agony and heartache. The only defence I can offer for the selfishness of what I have said is that… well, I wasn’t much of a villain, was I? Vale survived, Pyrrha yet lives and is yet ensconced in happiness with Jaune Arc, Sunset… Sunset, I… I am sorry, for Sunset. I’m sorry that my actions, my desire to make her what I wished… I’m sorry for everything it did to her.”

“Have you told her that?” Princess Celestia asked.

Cinder scowled. “No.”

“Then perhaps you should.”

“I am… I’m afraid to remind her that it was all my fault.”

“Has she not forgiven you already?” Princess Celestia replied. “And what of Amber?”

“Amber,” Cinder began. “Amber is… of all of my actions, Amber I regret the most. I told you that I had become a fury when I avenged myself upon my stepfamily, but when I struck down Amber… I became someone who deserved to be hunted by the furies, if such things existed. I wounded her, I stole her power, I… she was terrified of me, before I took her magic and left her… I was as cruel to her as ever the world had been to me, or worse. What justice in my cause, once I had made a victim in Amber as pitiable as ever I had been?”

Princess Celestia took pause a moment. “And now?”

“And now, Your Highness?” Cinder asked.

“Why are you here?” Princess Celestia asked her.

“I… I am here because Sunset wishes me here,” Cinder answered. “And because I wish to be.”

“With her?”

“By her side, Your Highness, yes.”

“And for no other reason?”

“What would the princess have me say?” Cinder demanded, spreading out her arms and wings alike. “That I fight now for a better world? That I fight because I have a great destiny that bids me save the world and all who live in it? Do you wish me to say that I have now no desires but to help others? I suspect you would find such answers as false out of my lips as you find my current answers unsatisfactory.”

“Do not be so quick to judge what answers I find unsatisfactory,” Princess Celestia said.

Cinder had not expected to hear that, and so, she said nothing in response to it, waiting to hear more.

Princess Celestia turned away from her. “When Sunset began to write to me again, in the diary, she described the characters of her friends,” she said. “They seemed kind, caring, warm, and generous individuals. I was delighted that my… that my daughter had found herself in such good company. I little expected that she would bring any of them here to Equestria, but if she did-“

“You hoped that she might bring Ruby or Pyrrha, or even Jaune?” Cinder asked.

Princess Celestia looked at her. “You are not surprised?”

“It is not surprising,” Cinder answered. “You would prefer Pyrrha for a houseguest than myself? Who wouldn’t? I half-suspect that Lady Nikos would prefer Sunset for an in-law rather than Jaune. Life is full of disappointments for the parents of Team Sapphire. I make no claims to virtue, Princess, or to heroism. I do not claim to have the stuff of greatness. I gave up on destiny along with my stolen magic. But I am loyal, to those who have given me cause for loyalty, and I fancy that I am brave and not without skill in arms for all that I now lack some of the extraordinary abilities that others have.

“I know that I am not the companion that a mother would choose for her daughter, but I swear to you, Princess Celestia, upon whatever tattered shreds of honour yet are mine, I will never let her down. Others of greater virtue cannot say as much.”

Princess Celestia stared down at her, silent and inscrutable. “You speak truly; you are not the companion I would choose.” A sigh escaped her. “But then, Starlight Glimmer is not the student that I would have chosen for Twilight, and when it comes to Sunset… nothing about this situation or her circumstances are what I would have chosen for her. She, who knows her own life better than anyone, has chosen you… who am I to presume to know better?” She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed once more. “Take care of her, I beg of you; she is… she is as dear to me as you can imagine.”

“I will,” Cinder vowed, and once more placed her hand upon her heart. “With life and heart and with my very soul, I will.”

The Moon, the Stars and Us

The Moon, the Stars, and Us

Cinder stood in front of Sunset’s door. The brown wooden door with its brass door handles stared back at her.

Sunset was waiting inside. Waiting with no… actually, she hopefully had some idea, after all that they’d been through together, or Cinder really was screwed, but she had no idea that Cinder was waiting just outside the door, about to come in and, well…

I have put this off too long. We both have. That was what was making it so hard. If she had said something sooner, if she had made a move earlier, if she hadn’t… if she hadn’t been secretly evil and lying to Sunset the whole time, but even after that, if she’d been honest with herself about her feelings when they had her a prisoner in the Vault, if she’d been honest after Sunset had saved her, then this would have been so much easier.

I should have rewarded my saviour with a kiss that night; I should have taken her right there in the courtyard and dazzled Jaune and Pyrrha with my audacity. I should have been bold, as I have always been bold; I should have been true to myself, as I have always been true to myself; I should have dared all, as I have always risked everything to get what I desire.

But in that moment of weakness… I had surrendered my powers to Sunset; I did not have it in me to surrender my heart also.

She was so much more powerful than I was, then. I could not bring myself to… to make myself so vulnerable before her.

And so, I sat upon my heart, both making it obvious what that heart desired while at the same time fearing to speak plainly on the matter, and simultaneously with both of those, growing despondent when Sunset made no move of her own.

This ought to have been easy. Ever since she and Sunset met, there had been something between them: a spark, an energy, something that Cinder felt with no others. She had gone to that party intending to size up Pyrrha Nikos, her hated rival; instead, she had swiftly concluded that Pyrrha was as insipid as milk and spent the rest of the evening getting to know her far more engaging team leader.

This ought to have been easy, as it had – it seemed – been very easy for Princess Celestia to name herself at last as Sunset’s mother, to be called such and to call Sunset 'daughter' in turn. As Sunset had described, it had all been rather matter of fact in the end, for all the dancing around the topic beforehand, for all the lack of talk of it in their conversations previously. It was how the princess felt. It was how Sunset felt. It was how Princess Twilight Sparkle felt. Why treat as revelation what was obvious? Cinder had joked about Sunset taking her to meet her mother – all those jokes and flirtatious banter now also seemed a mistake to Cinder; if Sunset had taken them for mere jests and not understood that the humour sat like vinaigrette upon a bed of real feeling, then it might be hard to convince her that her feelings were true – and tonight, after dinner, she had felt as though she were being sized up by that same mother as a potential partner. Princess Celestia had raised her, and it was clear from the way that Sunset talked of the princess what love and affection was there, on Sunset’s part at least, and one did not need to look closely or be a keen observer of humanity – or ponies – to discern it in Princess Celestia’s interactions with her.

So it was, Cinder thought, with her and Sunset. They were not Jaune and Pyrrha – although she might be in danger of turning into Pyrrha Nikos if she didn’t get this done and speak her truth, and wouldn’t that be ironic? – their feelings, their connection, could it be doubted? Could it come as a surprise?

With good fortune, this too would engender that same ‘but of course’ reaction as Princess Celestia’s maternal declaration: a confirmation of what had long been known, for all that it had been long unspoken.

With good fortune.

If she had not left it too long.

If they had both not left it too long, for Sunset was as responsible for this as Cinder was, had been as inactive as Cinder was, and that was at the heart of Cinder’s fear, for if Sunset had not acted, then… then perhaps it was because she did not feel as Cinder did, for all that their feelings seemed obvious.

Or perhaps she simply does not know what to do with them. Like me.

What a pass we are come to, where that is my best hope.

Another advantage that it would have given her to move sooner was that Sunset wouldn’t have given the Fall Maiden powers away. To have waited had not made Sunset appreciably less overwhelming in power compared to Cinder, but it had… it had hurt her. Yes, she took the point, well and forcefully made by Princess Celestia, that she had hurt Sunset plenty, but that did not change the fact that Sunset had hurt her in turn.

And that hurt formed a wall between them. A wall on two sides, if Sunset nursed her injuries from Cinder as Cinder nursed the insult done by Sunset.

A wall or two that seemed hard to navigate around, impossible perhaps, and yet knocking them down… that was likely to be painful in its own way.

And yet, she would have to do it. Things could not go on like this, laughing and joking and… and pretending. Pretending that was all they wanted, when Cinder, for her part, wanted so much more.

And when have I ever flinched from getting what I want?

When was what I wanted ever what I truly needed?

This time it is; this time is different.

She reached up, and with one clawed hand, she tugged at her hair for a moment, using her claw like a comb to set her long, dark hair – good of the magic mirror to preserve both hair and eyes, her two best features – into what she hoped was a particularly alluring setting, before she knocked upon the door.

The door opened only a little, a crack appearing from out of which issued Sunset’s voice. “Who is it?”

Cinder folded her arms. “Are you too grand to actually come to the door now that you’re a princess?”

The door opened all the way, revealing Sunset – her horn aglow with the green of her magic – sitting out on the balcony. A pair of maroon drapes, so light that they were translucent, fluttered in the breeze as they partially covered off the balcony from the room beyond.

Sunset looked over her shoulder and grinned at Cinder. “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t open all the doors with magic if you could?”

“Possibly I would,” Cinder admitted softly. “But I can’t. May I come in?”

“Sure,” Sunset called from the balcony. “Why don’t you come out and join me? It’s… it’s wonderful out here.”

Cinder walked into the bedroom and reached out to close the door behind her with one hand; the door shut before she could quite reach it.

“Show off,” Cinder said.

Sunset’s grin widened as the night air blew through her fiery mane – the magic had preserved Sunset’s best feature too – she turned away from Cinder, looking out from the balcony across… the city? The sky? Both? Cinder supposed that she would find out once she actually got out there.

She couldn’t help but notice that Sunset had a larger room than she did, and more opulently furnished besides, not that Cinder’s room was small or sparse, but it didn’t have quite so many vases of fine quality as Sunset’s room had been adorned with, and all with fresh flowers sprouting out of them as if the pots were the soil in which they had been nurtured.

Still, she didn’t say anything about it. Rank had its privileges, after all, as did closeness to the hostess; Cinder doubted rather that Sunset had gone to the House of Nikos and then complained that Pyrrha had a better bedroom than she did. It was just one of those things, the way of the world.

And besides, who would deny a mother the right to dote upon her daughter?

“You can be anything you want in this world.”

I know it really ought to depend on what I want, Mother, but I hope you’re right.

Perhaps it wasn’t enough to say that she wanted Sunset, perhaps she ought to look for other answers besides that, but for now, it felt like enough for her. She wanted Sunset; she wanted to stay by her side; she wanted to face peril alongside her, feel joy alongside her, live alongside her, die alongside her if need be.

They could not be equals, not after Cinder had vested herself of all her power, but if she had to be the Jaune Arc to Sunset’s Pyrrha Nikos, she would bear that fate, and gladly so, if only they could be together.

“Cinder?” Sunset called, without looking around this time.

“I’m coming,” Cinder replied, grateful to Sunset for not looking around and thus affording her the opportunity to examine her reflection in the mirror. How did she look? She looked like a dragon with great hair. Was that enough? Perhaps she ought to wait until she was human again, human and sexy.

No. No, she had waited too long already. She had waited so long that this had already become difficult. Dragon or no, pony or no, their hearts were unchanged from when they had best stood in Remnant.

Best get this over with.

She walked out onto the balcony. Sunset was sat in a rather canine fashion, with her hind legs tucked up and her forelegs straight, upon the white marble which gleamed effulgent under the moonlight, her wings tucked in at her sides and her tail trailing out behind her. The gentle breeze, which Cinder felt kissing her scales as soon as she stepped out onto the balcony, ruffled her mane. It looked like flames dancing in the wind. The moon, full and bright, was reflected in her vivid green eyes, even as the moonlight shone upon her amber coat, making her look paler than she did under the sun.

“Sit down,” Sunset bade her. She glanced at Cinder. “Unless you weren’t planning on stopping long.”

“Long enough,” Cinder murmured, taking a seat on the balcony next to Sunset. The marble felt cold beneath her scales, although, since perhaps Sunset didn’t seem to feel it, perhaps it was just she that was cold and noticed when she got no warmth from things around her. She was a sort of reptile at present, after all.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sunset asked.

“The night sky,” Cinder murmured. “Or the city?”

“Both.”

That was a fair enough answer, for they were both equally beautiful, and the many lights that glimmered in the city down below seemed the mirror the stars that gleamed above in escort to the moon. So many lights in the darkness, lights in the heavens and lights on earth, gleaming so bright amidst night's blanket all around.

Those lights – the heavenly and the temporal – reflected off the golden spires of Canterlot, made the marble towers gleam effulgent, and the moonlight shone upon them all; a cold, pale light, but not without a kind of fragile beauty nonetheless, like beholding a sculpture made of glass, no less wondrous for seeming so fragile.

"I can see why you wanted to come back here," Cinder said quietly. "It is a wondrous place. It's a wonder that you ever want to leave."

"I was a fool to go," Sunset admitted. "Although… although it worked out pretty well for me, in the end." She glanced up at Cinder, a smile playing across her face.

"'Pretty well'?" Cinder asked. "That is… a matter of opinion, considering all that you've been through."

"There have been good things to go along with the bad," Sunset replied. "I made my first friends. I met you."

Cinder snorted, causing a puff of black smoke to emerge from out of her nostrils. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you did. And I met you, for which I shall be forever grateful." She paused. "Although that isn't quite what I was referring to. I meant-"

"That I should stay here?" Sunset guessed. "Or that I might?"

"Remnant is not your world," Cinder declared. "As we are reminded by our presence here, this is your world. Your princess is here, your city is here, your people are here."

"My people have no need of me," Sunset said. "They have a better princess to defend them."

"Yet this is your land nonetheless," Cinder said. "Need or not, Remnant has no claim on your allegiance. Salem and the White Fang and all the rest need be nought to you."

"You are more than nought to me," Sunset declared. "As Pyrrha is, and Jaune and Ruby are, and Blake and all the rest, I cannot… they have claim on me, though Remnant and its kingdoms have none; Lady Nikos has a claim on me; Professor Ozpin has a claim on me; I cannot turn away from that. I will not. Though it be hazardous, and though the hazards appall Princess Celestia, nevertheless, I will not forsake them for a life of leisure here in Equestria, though it be the safest life that ever a pony lived. I will-"

"Fight on?" Cinder asked. "Until the fight consumes you?"

"Perhaps," Sunset allowed. "But I aim at more than that by far; I mean to win."

Cinder's eyes widened. "'To win'?" she repeated. "You mean-"

Sunset nodded. "Bring her down," she said. "I do not mean to pass this war on to the next generation."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "Ambitious. Possibly too ambitious."

"Is there such a thing as too ambitious?" Sunset asked. "Has she who once took a stand against all four kingdoms and the power of Atlas become timid?"

"No more than you've gone soft with a surfeit of melancholy," Cinder muttered. She hesitated. "You do remember that she can't be killed."

"As far as Professor Ozpin knew," Sunset said. "And besides, to kill her… there will be a way. There must be a way."

"And if there isn't?"

"There must," Sunset insisted. "I refuse to admit that perpetual stalemate is our fate, that we may not a choose a destiny of glorious triumph; think of it Cinder: the whole world delivered, saved, thanks to us; no more plans, no more grand strategies, just roving bands of grimm driven by their base instincts, dangerous to be sure, but nothing that the huntsmen or the Atlesians couldn't handle. Remnant delivered into peace and prosperity for the new generation, wouldn't that be something? Wouldn't that be the biggest something that you could imagine? Wouldn't that be-?"

"A deed worthy of a song?" Cinder suggested. "A story? A fairytale?"

"All three?" Sunset replied.

Cinder sniggered. "All ambition has not left you then?"

Sunset grinned. "We have both… we live under the threat that our misdeeds will overshadow our virtues and accomplishments alike, but saving the world ought to be enough to get even the most bitter person to overlook the other stuff, don't you think?"

"For you, perhaps," Cinder said. "I shall be lucky to be remembered as a walk-on part."

"That's not true."

"Of course it's true; don't patronise me," Cinder demanded. "What can I contribute to this grand endeavour of yours?"

"I don't know," Sunset admitted. "I haven't gotten down to the details yet. In fact, I haven't really gotten down to the vagueries of it. It's an aim, at present, without…"

"Without anything, by the sounds of it," Cinder said. "You might as well declare that you're going to build a time machine without knowing yet whether it's even possible to travel through time."

"There will be a way," Sunset said. "I admit that I haven't figured it out yet, but we will find a way, together. I need you by my side, Cinder; I can't do this without you."

Cinder looked down at her. "Why not?" she asked quietly.

Sunset looked up at her, the starlight reflected in her eyes. She seemed to lean forward, closer to Cinder, but then pull back. "How, um, how was Princess Celestia?"

"Your mother gave me a bit of a hard time," Cinder said, looking away from Sunset and hiding the disappointment in her voice. "But no more than I deserved."

"What do you mean?"

Cinder was silent for a moment. "Princess Celestia pointed out, quite rightly, that I had hurt you in the past."

"She didn't need to say that," Sunset sighed. "I'm sorry if she-"

"There's no need to apologise," Cinder said. "She was absolutely right."

"I don't care about that."

"Nevertheless," Cinder replied. "I hurt you. I caused you grief and heartache. I… I ruined your relationship with Ruby, by what I did."

"What I did."

"What I made you do," Cinder corrected. "I cost you… let's be honest, you wouldn't be contemplating saving the world to restore your reputation if I hadn't dragged it through the mud."

"There are other reasons I want to save the world," Sunset said defensively.

"And you would have one less if it weren't for me," Cinder pointed out. "I hurt you, Sunset, and I am sorry for it."

"Apology accepted."

"Don't take it so lightly!" Cinder snapped. "You never appreciate the things that I give to you, no matter how precious they are or how hard to give up! You don't appreciate it, and you don't appreciate me, and it… it's maddening, to tell you the truth."

Sunset blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Cinder looked down. Her wings flapped once behind her, and then again. She folded her scaly arms across her chest. "I don't… I hurt you, and I am sorry for it, truly. My intent was wicked, and I did wickedness to you which you did not deserve, and you have my… I'm sorry. But you hurt me as well. You didn't mean to, but that just makes it worse because you don't understand why or how you hurt me, and you didn't think about how I would feel; you just… I gave those powers to you. I made you the Fall Maiden because you were my… because you saved me, and I… the Fall Maiden is the Maiden of Choice, and I chose you, just as I had intended to choose you when I took my own life. I was ready to die to pass the powers onto you, you made sure that wasn't necessary, you saved me and for that I will always… but I chose you for my power nonetheless. I gave you that for which I had worked and dreamed, the object of my life's desire; I gave you my armour against the cruelty of the world, and you… you just gave it away to Pyrrha, to Pyrrha of all people!"

"She was the one Professor Ozpin chose," Sunset murmured.

"But I did not!" Cinder cried. "I chose you! And you trampled upon my choice without a second thought."

Silence descended between them. Sunset's voice, when it came, was weak and rather feeble-sounding as she said, "I had… I had no idea that it meant that much to you."

"No, you didn't," Cinder said bitterly. "I covered with jibes and sarcasm, and you didn't even realise."

Sunset frowned. "I don't think I can regret what I did," she admitted. "I was your choice, but that doesn't mean that I deserved to be Fall Maiden ahead of Pyrrha, and Pyrrha-"

"I'm not interested in hearing paeans to Pyrrha's virtue," Cinder muttered.

"Then what is it that you want from me?" Sunset demanded.

"From you? Nothing," Cinder said. "And everything." Now comes the plunge. No point putting it off any longer. "I want you." There, she had said it. The words had left her mouth. They had passed beyond recall. What had been said could no longer be unsaid.

She looked at Sunset for some sign of how she was taking it.

Confused, was how it looked to Cinder from Sunset's face, the wideness of her eyes and the way that they kept darting back and forth, the way that her mouth was hanging open just a little bit.

Cinder wasn't sure if that was altogether a good sign.

“Want,” Sunset murmured. “You mean-“

“Yes,” Cinder said, a smile spreading across her draconic features. “Exactly.” She paused. “I’m done pretending that I don’t feel the way I feel, I’m done pretending that this is just a friendship, I… I’m done, Sunset. I mean, after everything we’ve been through… you can’t deny that there is something between us. You can’t deny that we had fun; I mean, we’ve practically already been on dates, and, yes I was technically pretending to something that I wasn’t at the time, but the time we spent together, that… those feelings were real, even if not everything else about me was. I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment from you, although I wouldn’t say no to it either, but… all I’m asking is that we give it a try, see how it works out. That… that’s all I ask of you.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes, I too have seen The Mistralian Opera Ghost,” Cinder declared. “In order to affect to be cultured and cultivated, one must consume culture, you know.”

“I can understand that,” Sunset said, a touch of amusement entering her voice. “I thought you’d prefer the Ghost to the count.”

“Oh, I do,” Cinder assured her.

Sunset grinned. “Me too. Dark and brooding and… dangerous.”

Cinder hesitated for a moment. “I am not so dangerous any more.”

“Nevertheless,” Sunset said softly. Now it was her turn to hesitate. “A part of me feels that I should respond in some grandiose fashion, as is my habitual wont,” she said, momentarily looking away from Cinder, before looking back at her again as she went on. “Another part of me feels as if we’ve left it too late for that.”

Cinder hesitated. “You mean-“

“I mean, yeah,” Sunset said. “What would be the point of denying it, really?” She chuckled. “Ever since the moment I met you, I think I’ve felt-“

“Drawn to you?” Cinder asked. “I went to that party to size up Pyrrha, but you… you were the one that I-“

“You shone like a star, that night,” Sunset murmured. “The brighter where ten thousand are.”

“If I had visible skin, I’d be blushing right now,” Cinder said dryly. “And then you ran to the docking pad to meet me as I arrived.”

“And you flirted with all the subtlety of a blow to the head.”

“You should talk,” Cinder replied sharply.

Sunset shrugged. “After all that, after all that we’ve been through together… pretending to be at all shocked or surprised by this would be rather facile, I think.”

“How long have you known?” Cinder asked.

“Does it matter?”

“It matters a little that you didn’t say anything!” Cinder squawked.

“You didn’t say anything either!” Sunset retorted.

“I didn’t know how you’d react!”

“What kind of an excuse is that?”

“What’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me!” Sunset cried. “I didn’t want you to feel like- like I’d saved your life so you were obligated to love me, like the hero who rescues the princess and makes her his bride. I didn’t want you to… I was worried that you were too-“

“Obsessed with you?”

“There are times I worry that I’m the only thing you have,” Sunset said. “It isn’t, right?”

“No,” Cinder conceded. “It probably isn’t. But that… that is for the future. Right now, I’m offering you my hand, and my heart. Don’t treat them like you did my Maiden powers.”

“No,” Sunset whispered. “No, I would never… this, I know the value of.”

It was strange. This should have felt elating. This should have felt triumphant. This should have felt any number of marvellous things, this should have felt like the world moving around them, but instead… well, they had left it so long, hadn’t they? They had left it so long when it was obvious, and so, Cinder found that her main feeling was… relief. Relief that it was out in the open, relief that they could be honest, relief that… relief that it was done.

It was done. It was spoken. It was out. It was known. It was reciprocated.

She… she was with Sunset now.

Huh. That did feel pretty good, actually.

Especially since it meant that she could do what she had wanted to do for a very long time.

Cinder reached out and cupped Sunset’s face with one hand as she bent down and k-

“Ow!”

Cinder recoiled, pulling her hand away as though she’d been stung. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You bit me,” Sunset moaned, covering her nose with one hoof. “You bit me on the nose!”

“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry!” Cinder cried. “I didn’t mean to… I mean I’m not used to this long snout or this many teeth, and I…” She paused. Then she giggled. Then she covered her mouth but failed to stem the flow of laughter that issued out of it until her whole body was shaking.

“It’s not funny,” Sunset said, her voice slightly muffled by her forehoof over her snout.

“I think it is,” Cinder countered. “I mean, for one thing, can you imagine this happening to Jaune and Pyrrha?”

Sunset thought about it for a moment. “No,” she admitted grumpily. For a moment, she was silent, a slight sternness in her green eyes, her brown sharply furrowed. Then her expression softened, and a touch of wry laughter crept into her voice as she said, “I guess we’re not exactly classically romantic, are we?”

“If you wanted classical romance, you would have taken me like the hero making the princess his bride,” Cinder pointed out. “Plus, we should probably wait until we’re human again before we try, well, anything really.”

Sunset lowered her hoof. Cinder could see the angry red marks left by her fangs. There was no blood, thankfully, she had not bitten deep enough for that, but it definitely showed on Sunset’s face, and probably would for some time.

“I really am sorry,” Cinder murmured.

“It’s fine; a few lovebites never hurt anyone,” Sunset said easily.

“'Love bites'?”

“Sounds good,” Sunset said, “doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Cinder said. “It sounds… it sounds wonderful.”

“You know,” Sunset said, “there is one thing that we can do?”

“Really?”

Sunset lunged forward, rearing up onto her hind legs as she pressed her soft, furry body against Cinder’s scales and wrapped her forehooves and her feathery wings around Cinder’s body, as best she could.

The stars ceased to glisten in Sunset’s eyes as she closed them, resting her head on Cinder’s chest.

They had hugged before of course, but this time… this time was different. And not just because of how Sunset felt.

This felt different, too.

There was nothing between them any more, neither lies nor walls nor misconceptions. There was only them.

Cinder wrapped her arms around Sunset in turn and bent down her neck to place her face against Sunset’s cheek.

Sunset was right: for now, this was enough.

Everything else could wait.

After all, they’d waited this long already.

What My Cutie Mark is Telling Me

What My Cutie Mark is Telling Me

Amusement glinted in Cinder’s eyes, and there was a smile upon her draconic features that somehow managed to capture most, if not all, of the smugness that she had delighted in wielding as a human.

Sunset wasn’t sure it should be possible for a dragon to look that smug.

“So,” Cinder said, “to be clear: while I’m away, you’re going to be spending your time trying to work out what that mark on your bottom means?”

“It’s a cutie mark,” Sunset said patiently. “As I’ve told you.”

“And as I told you, I refuse to let those words pass my lips in that order,” Cinder replied. “One must have some standards and a little concern for one’s dignity.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “To be honest, I think we both left dignity behind some time ago, but have it your own way. This mark, my cutie mark” – she put added emphasis on the word – “I never really understood what it means, and this is a chance for me to rectify that. A chance for me to find my talent.”

“You’re not satisfied with your existing array of talents?”

“It’s not just about ability,” Sunset explained. “It’s about… I mean, yes, I might get a new ability out of it-”

“One would have thought you would have found it by now, if you had it,” Cinder pointed out.

Sunset shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way,” she said. “Here, among us, the way that our magic works is… it’s hard to explain, but there’s a great emphasis upon the moment of realisation. It’s not just that you can do things, even if you don’t realise it, or rather… that can happen, I suppose, but you won’t get the benefit out of it until you have that moment where you realise that, yes, this is who I am, this who I’m meant to be – no, who I want to be.”

Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “That all sounds rather vague.”

“It’s an art, not a science,” Sunset told her, “but vague or not, it matters to me. Finding out what my cutie mark really means will tell me… it will tell me what my gift to the world is, what I have to offer. I’d like to know that before we go back to Remnant. Just like I’d like to know what, exactly, I’m the princess of.”

“Will that give you any additional powers or attributes?” Cinder asked.

Sunset shrugged. “It depends on what, exactly, I turn out to be the princess of. I don’t think Twilight has any additional powers from being the Princess of Friendship – not that I’ve asked her; it would be very bad form-”

“Oh, of course,” Cinder said. “Discussion of magic and power is so terribly gauche, after all.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“Only because you’re making it so easy this morning,” Cinder said. “So, to recap: you want to find out what your… that means, on the assumption that it carries intrinsic meaning beyond what it appears to be; you want to find out what you are the princess of, which may mean nothing or something you don’t know-”

“Even if it doesn’t come with anything new, even if the realisation doesn’t change what I can do,” Sunset declared. “Even if all of that is true, then it will still be worth knowing, to me, at least. It will help me to see more clearly what I did to get it, help me to understand what path I’m supposed to follow going forward-”

“How?” Cinder asked incredulously. “I don’t mean to diminish this, and I accept that it will have meaning to you, but as a guide to our future course? What difference does it make, aside from – possibly – increasing your tactical options?”

“It matters a lot!” Sunset insisted. “If I were… okay, let’s take a hypothetical and say that I were the Princess of Friendship, instead of Twilight Sparkle. Then, I would unite all kingdoms and bring the world together in harmony against Salem.”

“You could do that regardless of what your title was,” Cinder pointed out.

“Perhaps, but I would have more right to do so in this case,” Sunset replied. “Or… not 'right' perhaps, but I should… this is quite hard to explain to someone who hasn’t lived here as I have.”

“Then don’t explain,” Cinder said, placing one scaled finger to Sunset’s lips. She knelt down in front of her. “If this matters to you, if this is important purely to you, then that is enough. We are in your land, after all, and we are here for your sake. If you want to spend a day exploring yourself in some fashion… what better time, what better place?” She snorted. “Although it does amuse me that all of this is to be accomplished with the aid of three children.”

“Apparently, they really know what they’re doing,” Sunset said. “Are you going to be okay?”

Cinder looked behind her, to where Starlight Glimmer stood in the lee of the crystal Castle of Friendship; Princess Twilight was with her, along with the pony Trixie Lulamoon, hitched to a wagon fashioned after a small house on four wheels. “I’ll be fine,” Cinder assured her. “I may grow somewhat weary of Trixie’s company, but I’m sure Starlight will look after me. And I’ll get to see more of this wonderful country of yours.”

“Are you s-?”

“Yes,” Cinder insisted. “This thing that you’re doing, this thing that I do not understand, and cannot because I am not a pony… best you do that in private, no? Self-discovery doesn’t need too much company. And, you know, I can manage without you sometimes.”

Sunset grinned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s sweet that you care,” Cinder said, and with her outstretched hand, she stroked Sunset’s cheek quickly with her rough, scaly hand. She rose to her feet. “But I feel as though I should be the one wishing you luck. Perhaps by the time I return from this village festival of Starlight’s, you’ll know who you are.” She smiled. “Now wouldn’t that be something?”

“I know who I am,” Sunset replied defensively. “Mostly.”

“Then to complete your knowledge would make you even more glorious,” Cinder declared. “One can but hope, anyway.”

Sunset grinned. “Well… let’s not get our hopes up too much. All of those things would be wonderful, but mostly… let’s see, huh?”

“Of course,” Cinder said. “You can tell me all about it when I get back. Speaking of which, I fear I might be holding the others up.”

“Best not keep them waiting any longer, then,” Sunset said as the two of them turned and walked towards the castle – and to the ponies gathered nearby.

The Castle of Friendship was like the stained glass windows in the throne room, a new addition to the Equestrian landscape since Sunset had dwelt here last. It was a structure at once garish and impressive, imposing and eyebrow-raising, grandiose and a little bit of an eyesore. It had to be admitted – and Sunset thought that even Twilight would have admitted as much if she’d been asked – that it was not entirely in keeping with Ponyville’s rustic aesthetic, nor would it have really fit in Canterlot – or anywhere that Sunset was familiar with or could think of – but taken on its own, it was quite a sight, the tree-like way in which it spread outwards as it climbed up, the crystalline nature of the superstructure, the way it glimmered under the sunlight… the giant six-pointed star on the roof was probably a bit much by any measure, though.

And yet, it fitted with the rest of the castle, all the same.

Sunset… Sunset was a little bit jealous. Yes, she was supposed to be over it, and she pretty much was over it, and there were more important things than honours and glory, and even Twilight didn’t really care for the acclaim, but all the same… it was a pretty cool castle, really. Not even Pyrrha had a place quite like this.

“Ah, Cinder,” Starlight said. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Cinder replied. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“It’s fine,” Starlight assured her. “We only just got done ourselves. Well, Trix, shall we get going?”

Trixie’s wagon creaked as she pulled it away, Cinder and Starlight walking on either side of it as they headed away from the Castle and away from Ponyville altogether, heading off in the direction of Starlight’s old village, the site of her past crimes.

It was a little surprising that they wanted her back, but then, Sunset reminded herself that that was the way of things in Equestria. These were a forgiving people. They didn’t hold onto grudges.

She glanced at Princess Twilight, stood beside her, watching the three of them depart. There was a slight frown on her face.

“Are you okay?” Sunset asked.

“I’m fine,” Twilight said, more softly than somepony who was actually fine might have answered. “I’m just a little worried about Starlight. She was quite nervous about this, and I’m not sure that Trixie is the best person to help her. When I suggested that she should take a friend for moral support, I was actually talking about me.”

Sunset snorted. “Well, it will teach you to be more specific in future, won’t it? And besides, if you’d gone off with Starlight, who would have been here to help me out?”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders are going to help you out,” Twilight pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m glad you’ll be there too,” Sunset replied. “And Cinder is with Starlight as well; it isn’t just Trixie.”

“Are you not worried about Cinder?” Twilight asked.

“Worried about what?” Sunset responded. “Cinder has survived far worse and far tougher than anything that Equestria can throw at her. She’ll be fine. I hope she’ll be fine.”

Twilight covered her mouth with one hoof as a chuckle escaped her. “We should probably get going. I told the girls we’d meet them at the clubhouse.”

“We’re not going inside the castle?” Sunset asked.

“I can show you around later,” Twilight promised. “But no, we’re heading across town to Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Okay,” Sunset murmured, a little disappointed despite herself. “I would quite like to see what it looks like inside.” She paused. “So this thing grew by magic?”

Twilight nodded. “After we defeated Tirek, the Rainbow Box sort of… it created this. I think that it’s linked to the magic of Tree of Harmony, but I couldn’t exactly say how.”

“I’m not sure you’re supposed to be able to say how, when it comes to things like that,” Sunset replied. She shook her head. “The Tree of Harmony, huh? When I was a filly, that was even more of a legend than Nightmare Moon.”

“A lot of legends have turned out to be true since I moved to Ponyville,” Twilight said. “I don’t envy the amount of trouble that you have in Remnant, but at least the world isn’t actually about to end every twenty six weeks or so.”

“No, it just feels that way,” Sunset muttered. “So, where’s this clubhouse, then?”

“This way,” Twilight said and started trotting around the crystalline castle, leading Sunset behind her across Ponyville. It was mid-morning by now, and many ponies of all species were about their daily business. They noticed Twilight first, hailing her and waving to her, wishing her good morning… but then they noticed Sunset following behind her.

They didn’t know who she was. There was not a trace of revulsion in their eyes, no disgust, no wariness, no fear. She wasn’t Sunset Shimmer to these ponies, she wasn’t the fallen student of Celestia, she wasn’t the huntress who had caused the Breach, she wasn’t anything to them except an alicorn. An alicorn unknown to them.

They didn’t stare too long, or too hard; they soon moved on with their own business, their own lives… but they did stare, wide-eyed with curiosity, and after everything that she’d been through… it was kind of weird. Sunset didn’t know whether to hide her face or primp up her mane or both.

This was her first time visiting Ponyville. The town had set on the edge of Canterlot, less than a day’s journey away on hoof and much faster by rail or pegasus chariot, and Sunset had often seen it from one of the many balconies that littered the palace and the city, but she had never had the temptation to visit. There had never, to her knowledge, been anything worth visiting for. Now that she was here… it still wasn’t for her. Rural charms did not charm her. But she could see why somepony so inclined – like Princess Twilight – might enjoy it. And she herself might have enjoyed the peace, even if she did not enjoy the place so much.

And after all, isn’t it really the people who make the place? It would really depend upon who lived here with me.

Twilight led her through the village and to a farm girded by a wooden fence with the name Sweet Apple Acres emblazoned above the arch that was the only way in or out. The farmhouse and barn were distant to the eye, set far off in the midst of vast acres of apple orchards, the sturdy trees groaning under the weight of the ripe red fruit that grew upon their branches. Twilight led Sunset through the orchards, not towards the farmhouse, but to a treehouse built amidst the orchards itself, in a secluded spot where the trees were less fruity than the rest and the lower branches could be sacrificed. The door was open, and the sounds of voices could be heard within, echoing outside.

Twilight led the way, her hoof-falls making the wooden ramp creak slightly, and Sunset followed her inside.

The clubhouse, assuming that was where they were, was sparsely decorated, with floorboards painted in a dark green and walls that were unpainted and looked more commonly wooden. However, it did have a few touches that lent it a lived-in and well-loved air, from the mismatched curtains on the windows – leaf print on one side, patchwork on the other – to the many framed photographs of family and friends competing for space on the wall with pieces of paper with various crossed out drawings and doodles scribbled over them, together with… posters of pony Rainbow Dash?

Oh, I have to tell her about that.

Within the treehouse waited three young fillies, standing behind an upturned crate that seemed to be serving as a table.

“Howdy, Twilight!”

“Hello, girls,” Twilight said fondly. “This is the pony I was telling you about: Sunset Shimmer.”

“Pleased to meet ya! Ah’m Apple Bloom.” Apple Bloom was an earth pony with a coat of pale yellow and eyes of brilliant orange. Her mane was vibrantly red and accessorised with a pink bow in her hair that reminded Sunset a little of Penny.

“I’m Sweetie Belle.” Sweetie Belle was a unicorn with a white coat and a two-toned mane of rose and mulberry, the streaks intertwining with one another through her curled mane. Eyes of green looked up at Sunset.

“And I’m Scootaloo.” Scootaloo was a pegasus with an orange coat and a purple mane cut in a style very similar to that worn by pony Rainbow Dash on her posters. Her eyes were a similar purple to match her mane, but Sunset had to confess that what caught her eye were the small, underdeveloped wings upon her back. Sunset doubted that she could fly with them and could not help but think it a pity that, even in the world of Equestria, Scootaloo could not escape such limiting conditions.

Nevertheless, she didn’t remark upon it and quickly looked away; she was here as a supplicant, after all, and it wouldn’t do to draw attention to something that the poor filly probably wasn’t all that happy about.

And besides, given the excited way in which she and her friends proclaimed in unison, “We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” before high hoof-bumping one another in the air over their heads, clearly, it wasn’t something that bothered her all the time.

More interesting than Scootaloo’s wings were the fact that all three of the Crusaders had variations on the same cutie mark: a shield made up of three colours, purple, grey, and red, with only the design within the shield being different. Apple Bloom had an apple, Sweetie Belle a musical note within a star, and Scootaloo a wing. Such unity was not something that Sunset had heard of before. Clearly, this thing that they did was something they were meant to do together.

It was quite extraordinary. Possibly unprecedented. Linked cutie marks.

These girls really were special, weren’t they?

Sunset smiled. “It’s very nice to meet all of you, and thank you for taking the time to help me with my problem.”

“It’s our pleasure!” Apple Bloom said.

“It’s what we do,” Sweetie Belle added.

“And it’s so exciting!” Scootaloo cried. “We’ve never helped an actual princess before! Or somepony who’s lived on another world! Can you imagine it, an actual other world?!”

“Yeah, I can imagine it,” Sunset murmured. “Seeing as how I live there.”

“It sounds so awesome!” Scootaloo yelled. “Can you tell us any cool stories about it? Twilight won’t tell us anything.”

“Why don’t we see how we get on?” Twilight asked quickly. “After all, Sunset doesn’t have all the time in the world, and she is here to find out the meaning of her cutie mark and her crown, not to tell stories.”

That, and you’re worried about what I might tell them, Sunset thought. Not that she blamed Princess Twilight; some of what had gone on in Remnant was not for children. However, it might make it awkward, depending on what they asked in order to help her make sense of things.

Hopefully this process can survive some censorship.

“Sorry,” Scootaloo said. “It’s just so cool, you know?”

Sunset sat down on the other side of the box from the three fillies. “Don’t worry, I get it,” she said. “The concept is pretty amazing. Actually living there… not always so much.”

“What do you mean?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Let’s just say, for now, that there’s a fair bit of trouble in that world,” Sunset replied. “A lot of people need help, and I’d like to be able to help the best way I can. Which is why I need your help, to figure out how it is that I can best play my part and help my friends.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” promised Scootaloo. “I think we should start by figuring out what it is that you’re the princess of.”

“That’s backwards!” Sweetie Belle declared. “We need to figure out Sunset’s cutie mark first, then we can work out what she’s the princess of.”

“Why do we have to do it that way?” Scootaloo demanded.

“Because figuring out the cutie mark will make it easier to figure out the princess!”

“No, it won’t; Twilight’s cutie mark doesn’t have anything to do with friendship!”

“Of course it does,” Sweetie Belle insisted, “what do you think that the five small stars represent?!”

“Ah think we can do both,” Apple Bloom said. “If we ask Sunset about what kind of things she’s been doin’, then we can get a feel for what her talent is and what she did to become a princess.”

“I guess so,” Scootaloo murmured.

“Okay,” Sweetie Belle acknowledged.

The three fillies sat down opposite Sunset, so that in the clubhouse, only Princess Twilight remained standing.

“That sounds like the best idea,” Twilight said, “but first, Sunset, why don’t you tell us how you got your cutie mark in the first place?”

“Even though I didn’t understand it at the time?” Sunset asked.

“Maybe you didn’t, but it will help to look at what was goin’ on at the time,” Apple Bloom promised.

Sunset's brow furrowed for a moment. "Okay. I got my cutie mark when I was… a little bit younger than you girls. Princess Celestia had taken me in when I was a very young filly – I can be a little discursive when you get me talking; I do apologise – and so, as her ward, I was naturally sent to study at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. I wasn't her personal student at the time, however; I was just another student who happened to live in the palace. But anyway, I digress just a little bit, sorry."

"It's alright," Sweetie Belle said. "Little details can be a big help."

"If you say so," Sunset murmured. "Anyway, I was Pre-C, obviously, magic kindergarten, and we were doing Beginners' Practical Magic-"

"Without a cutie mark?" Twilight asked.

"There were a few blank flanks in there, yeah," Sunset said. "And even without a cutie mark, I was kind of acing things, if I do say so myself, but in this particular exercise, I had been partnered with the worst colt in class. His name was Snapdragon Sunrise, and I am sure that the teacher had put me with him to stop me getting too far ahead of the others because he was soooo slow. He couldn't do anything. He had his cutie mark, and yet, the simplest spells were beyond him, and it was so incredibly frustrating. I felt as though I was chained to a heavy boulder holding me back. I'd done everything required, and there he was, making no progress whatsoever…" Sunset paused.

"I wasn't always a very nice pony, so when I tell you that I yelled at him and asked if he was doing this to me on purpose, I want you to understand that I'm ashamed of it now. In fact, I became kind of ashamed of it at the time, to tell you the truth, because he didn't answer me; he just… he had tears in his eyes. He knew how far behind he was, he knew that no one was struggling as much as him, and he… there was nothing that I could say to make him more ashamed than he already felt, but it did… I suppose it made me feel a little sorry for him, so I… I helped him. We met after class – I asked Princess Celestia if I could have a friend over; she was delighted – and I spent a few hours showing him what to do. And the next morning, Snapdragon came into class, and he pulled off the spell, right there, in front of everypony, and the teacher too.

"And you should have seen the reaction from everypony, it was like… it was like, all this time, they'd all been willing him on to succeed, to finally get it. All the little fillies and foals stamped their hooves, and the teacher gushed congratulations, and Snapdragon looked at me across the classroom with this big beaming smile on his face. And I knew that he couldn't have done it without me, and so, listening to everyone tell him what a good job he'd done, it… it kind of felt like they were telling me I'd done a good job too." Sunset scratched at her ear with one forehoof. "And that's when I felt it; there was a flash of light, a tingling feeling, and… there it was. One cutie mark."

"So your cutie mark is in teaching?" Scootaloo suggested.

"I hope not; I haven't done much of that since," Sunset replied. "And I've never felt pulled towards it, particularly. Never felt as though I'm missing out."

"What happened after that?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Princess Celestia was very pleased," Sunset replied. "I told her what happened, a little like I just told you – except that I didn't tell her that I'd yelled at him before I decided to help him out – and she was absolutely delighted. She threw me a big cute-ceañera in the ballroom with cake and balloons and pinatas and all that stuff – I think that she had more fun there than she does at the Grand Galloping Gala most years – and it was at my cute-ceañera that she took me aside and told me that she wanted me to become her own personal student, that I'd still spend time at school with the other kids, but that I'd also learn from her, directly, one on one. She told me… she told me that she thought I could become a very special pony someday, even more special than I already was."

"Hmm," Apple Bloom murmured. "So what happened to Snapdragon Sunrise?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I, um, I don't know," she admitted. "I… well I… I got kind of a swelled head from becoming Princess Celestia's student, I… I didn't have time to help some loser who could barely cast a spell. I was too big for that now. That… that's how I saw it at the time, anyway. He tried to talk to me a few times, but I always gave him the brush off. Eventually, he stopped trying."

"Would you like to try and find him now?" Twilight asked.

"What would be the point?" Sunset asked. "All of this was years ago; he's hardly likely to remember, and if he does, he won't care. He'll have moved on, started his own life."

"You could apologise," Twilight suggested.

"It wasn't like I bullied him!" Sunset said defensively. "And even if I did hurt him, isn't bringing up those bad memories just so I can apologise for them pretty selfish?"

"I see your point," Twilight conceded, "but all the same, I think you should think about it, since you're here."

"Did you have any idea what your cutie mark might mean?" Apple Bloom asked.

Sunset laughed nervously. "I thought it meant… I thought, and I am aware now of how stupid this sounds, that the sun meant that I would succeed Celestia one day. Take over from her. Shine brighter than she ever did. Like I said, I was an arrogant little madam."

"Hmm," Sweetie Belle murmured.

Sunset's gaze flickered between Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom. "Do you have an idea?"

"Not yet," Sweetie Belle replied, although Sunset thought that was probably at least a partial lie: she had an idea, just not one she was willing to share yet. "I think we need more to go on."

"Like tell us what you've been doing in the other world!" Scootaloo suggested enthusiastically.

Twilight began. "I'm not-"

"I think that's probably necessary," Sunset cut her off. "To an extent. Don't worry, I won't tell them anything that their sisters wouldn't want them to hear."

"Thank you," Twilight said. "Because I'll be the one hearing about it from them if you do."

"I'll be good," Sunset promised. She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I… I won't tell you about the first few years after I left Equestria and came to the other world, called Remnant; I don't think it's relevant; nothing much really happened. At least, nothing that I'm proud of, and if my cutie mark is in something sordid, then I'd rather not know, if it's all the same to you. So I'll start my story… when I arrived at Beacon Academy," she said, deciding that she didn't need to tell the fillies about her and Ruby's battle with Torchwick any more than she needed to tell them about her failed attempt to break up Rainbow's friendships or her relationship with Flash or any of the other unpleasant things that had happened to her before she went to Beacon.

"What's Beacon Academy?" asked Sweetie Belle.

"It's a school, where people learn… to protect others, from evil and danger. To be heroes, you might say," Sunset explained.

"That sounds awesome," Scootaloo declared.

"It was, some of the time," Sunset replied. "Other times, it was pretty scary. Especially… anyway, let me go back. I arrived at Beacon Academy; I'd decided to go and study there in the hope that I could… well, I was hoping to become a famous hero who people across Remnant knew about, like Twilight here."

"I'm not a hero," Twilight insisted.

"No, but you are famous."

"Thank you for reminding me."

Sunset smiled. "At Beacon, students are assigned into teams of four, and I was made the leader of a team called Team Sapphire, along with three people called Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, and Ruby Rose." Once more, she paused. "You know, I said that I didn't do any teaching, but I suppose that isn't quite true. Ruby was – is – a couple of years younger than the rest of us; she'd been allowed into Beacon early by the headmaster, and she struggled with some of the subjects since she'd missed two years of classes in C- in the level of schooling preparatory to the academies. So I started tutoring her, to help her get by. And then, when it became clear just how much trouble Jaune was having with his studies, I started to help him out too, along with my friend Pyrrha."

"Did Jaune get into school two years early as well?" inquired Apple Bloom.

"No," Sunset said. "Jaune had… don't try this at home, but Jaune had cheated his way into school, forging qualifications that he didn't have."

"I do not condone this as a general practice," Twilight added.

"Why are you talking like we might consider doing that ourselves?" Scootaloo demanded.

"Well, one day, there might be an awesome school that you really want to get into but can't, for whatever reason," Sunset suggested. "If that ever happens, don't cheat your way in. It's very wrong. Even though it did work out for Jaune and the rest of us."

"Is this going to be one of those stories that insists on something being wrong even though it's actually really cool if you ignore the narrator?" asked Scootaloo.

"Probably," Sunset conceded. "You see, Jaune was getting bullied by Cardin, who would later become a friend of mine but at this point was absolutely unbearable."

"Like Diamond Tiara," Sweetie Belle said.

"Probably," Sunset agreed, without knowing who that was. "Now, Cardin had found out about Jaune cheating his way into the school and was using it as leverage to get Jaune to do whatever he wanted. I found out that that was happening and why, and I decided to help Jaune do something about it. I broke into the school records to get rid of the evidence of his cheating-"

"I don't condone that either," Twilight interjected.

"And then I set things up with Jaune so that Cardin would take a massive fall. Unfortunately… that plan depended upon Jaune letting someone else get bullied – again, I repeat that I'm not proud of all my past decisions – and… and he didn't have it in him. He stood up to Cardin before he was supposed to, and… well, he made it clear that he wasn't going to be pushed around anymore." Sunset decided to gloss over the fact that she had been rather annoyed with Jaune at the time, even to the point of considering having him kicked out herself. "Pyrrha was very impressed with his newfound show of backbone, and when Cardin tried to have him kicked out of school regardless… the evidence was gone."

"So Jaune looked pretty good, huh?" Scootaloo murmured. "Hmm."

"Are you three all going to keep making that noise?" Sunset asked.

"Go on," instructed Sweetie Belle. "What happened next?"

Sunset exhaled loudly. "I… I started to become a better person? Dealing with Cardin made me realise… that I wasn't a very good person at that point and that I needed to try and become a little better. And that's when we got involved with a classmate called Blake. Now… I promised that I'd censor the bad stuff, but there's no real way around this: you know how in the old days, unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi all hated each other?"

Sweetie Belle nodded. "We know the stories, but it's kind of hard to imagine."

"I know what you mean," Sunset said. "What Princess Celestia has accomplished seems so permanent, doesn't it? As eternal as she is. It's hard to imagine anything could happen that would set the three races against one another again. But the people who live in Remnant… they…" She thought about explaining it as 'they lack a Celestia,' but that felt rather demeaning to Professor Ozpin, who was trying his best in very trying circumstances. "They haven't gotten to that point yet; they're not as advanced as we are. In Remnant, races still regard one another with distrust, even hatred, just like the pony tribes did in the bad old days. Blake, not that we knew it at the time, is part of a race called the faunus, who are different from the majority of the people who live there. Blake was hiding that fact, just like she was hiding the fact that…" Sunset hesitated, searching for a child friendly way to explain the White Fang. "Blake was part of a group that tried to bring humans and faunus closer together, only not many humans wanted to hear that message, and when they didn't listen, Blake's group got angry, and they did some pretty nasty stuff to get their point across. So nasty, in fact, that Blake left and hid who she really was and came to study at Beacon with the rest of us. She was quiet, bookish, kept herself to herself, until Rainbow Dash showed up."

"Rainbow Dash!" exclaimed Scootaloo.

"Yes, the other world's Rainbow Dash was also training to protect others," Sunset said. "Now, she was a student at a place called Atlas Academy, a long way from Beacon, but she and the other world's Twilight Sparkle arrived at Beacon chasing their friend Penny… it's a bit complicated and off-topic, I won't get into it more, but they arrived to join us at Beacon. Now, Remnant's Rainbow Dash is a faunus, but she and Twilight had some bad experiences with Blake's group in the past; meanwhile, Blake had also had some bad experiences with people from Atlas, so as you can imagine those two got on like a house on fire, at least at first. Rainbow found out about Blake's past, and… well, I think it's fair to say that Rainbow Dash overreacted somewhat to that, but I was able to make sure that she didn't do anything she would regret, and when Blake ran away, I led my friends out looking for her, and we ended up foiling a massive robbery and catching a bad guy, and Blake and Rainbow Dash became friends. So it all worked out pretty well, I think.

"Not much happened for a while after that, then we – me, Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ruby – went on vacation to Pyrrha's big fancy house far away from Beacon, in a city kind of like Canterlot. Pyrrha, you see, is very rich and very well-born. The Princess Without a Crown, they call her, because she's descended from royalty. Now, Pyrrha had a crush on Jaune, but her mother was not very enthusiastic about the whole thing for obvious reasons. I tried to help Jaune by teaching him how to behave in a manner more appropriate for a great house like the one we were staying in; unfortunately, it didn't really help him much with Pyrrha's mother, although I think Pyrrha appreciated him trying, and they got together anyway, in spite of what Pyrrha's mother wanted. It was also during this vacation that I met Cinder, who is going to be very important later. Cinder… was evil, there's no getting around that, unfortunately, but I didn't know that at the time; I just thought she was really cool, and we kind of hit it off.

"But anyway, Cinder knew about Blake's secret past, and she revealed it, and Blake was arrested. But, Rainbow and I were able to get her released from jail, and all she had to do in return was help out Rainbow Dash stop some bad guys, and along the way, Blake and Rainbow Dash went from being kind of friends to rock-solid BFFs, and Blake became something of a hero. She really impressed a lot of people, and some of those people invited her to come back to the Kingdom of Atlas with them and become a protector of the people there. Which she did, and I think she's kind of famous there now."

"Because you and Rainbow Dash helped her out, huh?" Scootaloo murmured.

The three crusaders looked at one another.

"Did you help anyone else out like that?" Sweetie Belle asked. "Because from what I've heard, I'd say that your cutie mark is definitely helping others."

Sunset blinked. "Really? You… you think that's it?"

"Ain't it?" Apple Bloom replied. "You helped Jaune stand up for himself, and he impressed Pyrrha; you helped Blake, and she became a hero in this place called Atlas. You helped Snapdragon, and the whole class went nuts over him. Ah don't think that the sun represents you being better'n Princess Celestia or nothin' like that, I think it means that you help others to shine."

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged. Out of the mouths of fillies indeed. It was not something that she would ever have considered ordinarily, but now that Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had brought it up… it kind of made sense. She had helped Jaune out, and in doing so, his status had risen; she had helped Blake, and Blake was now one of General Ironwood's Atlesian elite; she had helped Pyrrha become the Fall Maiden, she had helped Cinder become a good person. She had helped Ruby unleash her silver eyes. Sunset had come to Beacon in search of glory, but it had been others who had gained the laurels on their brow with Sunset's assistance. Thinking back, she had spent a lot of time helping other people with their problems, and oftentimes, they had reaped the rewards, rewards for which Sunset could take some credit, even if all she'd done was say the right thing at the right time.

"Huh," she murmured. "That… that actually makes a lot of sense."

I wonder if that changes my plans at all.

Should it?

Well, I'd planned to defeat Salem.

I still can.

Except that I'm not the hero, am I? We just proved that; I'm the one who fixes everything for other people.

So? You can sort Professor Ozpin's problem out for him. You can still do all the work; it just means that he or Pyrrha will get all the credit in the end.

And that… that was fine. A little irksome, perhaps, considering what she and Cinder had talked about last night, but the deed was the important thing. The fact that Salem would be defeated, even if people thought the victory belonged to Professor Ozpin and not to her, she would still be gone. She would be gone, and the world would be safe, and her friends would remember what she had done, just as they hopefully remembered everything that she had done for them up until now.

"Thank you, girls," she said. "That… that's honestly a very good thing to know, because even though it's not a talent that gives me any extra magic, the fact that I've been doing… well, kind of what I'm supposed to be doing is a comfort." She smiled. "I was worried that I didn't know what my gift to the world was, but it turns out that I've been giving it this whole time, and that… that makes me feel better." I've made mistakes, Celestia knows, I haven't always thought things through, I've acted foolishly, I've done things no huntress should… but I've also, as it turns out, been myself, my best self, my destined self.

I've been fulfilling my destiny all this time, step by step.

"I…" she bowed her head. "I'm not the hero," she said. Saying it out loud gave it finality, a sense of truth and firmness, a sense that there were no takebacks anymore. But at the same time, it felt kind of good to say it, a relief. She didn't have to feel like or worry that she was letting herself down.

She would retain her ambitions, she would keep her promise to Amber in that regard, she would aim for momentous accomplishments and great deeds yet… but she would keep her ambitions in proportion. She was not the hero. That was Pyrrha, scion of a noble and an ancient line; that was Professor Ozpin, the immortal champion of this world; that might even be Ruby with her silver eyes; but it was not her.

She was the sun, but nopony – no one – looked directly on the sun. They saw only that which it illumined.

And she meant to illumine them so brightly, it would be blinding.

"Thank you," she repeated. "For confirming what I am meant to do."

"No problem," Sweetie Belle said.

"It's what the Cutie Mark Crusaders are here for," Apple Bloom added.

Sunset chuckled. "Well, you make it look very easy."

"It wasn't exactly hard," Scootaloo muttered. "But what about your crown? Do either of you have any idea what Sunset's a princess of?"

“It has to be something related to her cutie mark,” Sweetie Belle said, putting one hoof to her chin, “because it’s always something related; look at Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. And Princess Cadance!”

“But Twilight’s cutie mark is magic, not friendship,” Apple Bloom pointed out.

“But don’t forget, girls,” Twilight remarked, “friendship is the most powerful magic there is.”

“So if Sunset’s cutie mark is helping others,” Scootaloo said, “that would make her the Princess of… Help?”

“Hopefully, it will be a little catchier than that,” Sunset remarked.

“Why don’t you tell what you did to become a princess?” Apple Bloom suggested.

“I wish I knew for sure,” Sunset replied. “As I see it, there are two possibilities.” She paused. There wasn’t really any way to sugarcoat what had happened to Amber. She glanced at Twilight, hoping that her fellow princess and sort of sister would understand.

Twilight frowned, and for a little while, she too was silent. At last, she murmured, “Okay, but… don’t give too much detail.”

“Detail of what?” asked Apple Bloom.

“You remember that I mentioned my friend Cinder?” Sunset asked. “The one who was… kind of evil, although I didn’t know that at the time? I found that out later, after we had had a chance to make a connection. A connection which might have ended up saving some people. I hope so, at least. Anyway, I found out that Cinder was acting against us in the interest of our enemy, but I also found out why. You see, everyone in Remnant has what’s called a Semblance, and it’s like… it’s a unique ability, similar to the way in which unicorns have access to magic related to their cutie mark and talent that other unicorns don’t have, at least some of the time. My semblance is empathy. I’m not sure how it relates to helping others, but it allows me to see into someone’s mind and soul when I touch them. I see their memories, and I feel their emotions.”

“I can see the connection,” Twilight said. “By understanding others, you also understand how to help them.”

“Well, perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “Perhaps I just haven’t used it enough to get that kind of benefit, but I used it on Cinder on the night when she showed her true colours, and I saw just why she was doing what she was doing. I saw… I saw all the awful things that she’d been through, and I felt… I understand why she had turned out the way she had, even if I didn’t agree with what she was doing. But what I didn’t see, what I didn’t know, was that before we met… Cinder had attacked a girl named Amber. There… there really isn’t any getting around this point: Cinder left Amber close to death. She was dying, and there didn’t seem to be any way to save her. Professor Ozpin, our headmaster, and the leader of a group fighting to protect the world from darkness, planned to… Amber carried a very special power inside of her. She was… it doesn’t matter what she was, but it was powerful and special, and Professor Ozpin couldn’t risk it falling into the hands of evil. He planned to pass it on to my friend Pyrrha, but the only way that they could think to do that was… well, it might have killed Pyrrha too.”

“This world doesn’t seem so awesome anymore,” Scootaloo said softly.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Sunset murmured. “I was pretty disappointed myself. I… I couldn’t lose Pyrrha. I just couldn’t. She should not die, so fair, so desperate; at least, she should not die like that. I spoke to Princess Celestia, I asked if maybe I was wrong, if it was right to sacrifice someone like Pyrrha for the greater good… Princess Celestia told me no, it wasn’t, I should find another way, even if Professor Ozpin couldn’t. So… so I did. I used my semblance on Amber, and I was able to… patch her up, basically. Wake her from her coma, bring her back.”

“And she wasn’t dyin’ or nothin’?” Apple Bloom asked.

“No,” Sunset said. “I couldn’t fix everything that Cinder had done to her, but she was healthy, and she wasn’t suffering any further injuries or ailments.”

“That sounds pretty impressive,” Scootaloo said. “Maybe you’re the Princess of Healing?”

“That is when I started to notice that my unicorn magic was growing stronger,” Sunset allowed, “but… this story doesn’t have a very happy ending, I’m afraid. Amber… I could stop the physical effects of Cinder’s attack, but I couldn’t erase the scars in Amber’s mind. She was afraid, terrified… and hopeless. Just like Professor Ozpin had been when confronted with Amber’s condition, she had lost all hope, and unlike Professor Ozpin, I wasn’t able to give her any cause for hope. So, afraid and hunted, she betrayed us, selling us out to our enemy in exchange for her life. Our foe agreed to that exchange, though it meant betraying her own servant, Cinder.

“Cinder found out that she was being abandoned, and it… it broke something inside of her. She’d been so proud, so certain of what she was doing; she always acted as though she didn’t feel doubt, didn’t hesitate, never lost confidence in herself, but when she was betrayed by her mistress… all of that seemed to leave her. She surrendered to me and my friends without a fight, she told me secrets about our enemy that she would never have told me before, she placed herself in our power, although there were people who would have gladly put her to death… it was as though she didn’t care anymore.

“When the fighting broke out, Amber tried to steal a powerful magical artefact and deliver it to our foe. I wasn’t there to stop her, so Pyrrha tried, and she released Cinder to help her. Together… together, they killed Amber; I’m sorry, there’s no other way of saying it. But the victory brought Cinder no joy. You see… for the sake of power, she had submitted to a creature of great darkness and been gifted with a kind of… dark magic which was… it was rendering her less of a person and more of a… it was devouring her.” And to think, this story started out with Jaune cheating his way into a school.

“What happened?” Sweetie Belle asked, leaning forward over the box, her eyes wide.

“I… I saved her,” Sunset said. “I used my semblance on her again, and I drove out the darkness, and I… I persuaded to take my hand, and she did. She came back. She… came back. And that, or shortly after that, is when I started noticing that I had pegasus powers and earth pony strength.”

“Hmm,” the three Crusaders all said in unison.

Sunset raised one eyebrow.

“Excuse us a second,” Apple Bloom said. “Girls.”

The three fillies retreated into the corner of the clubhouse, whispering to one another so softly that Sunset couldn’t make out what it was they were actually saying. Her tail swished back and forth over the green boards as she waited.

They turned back to her. “Tell us more about what you said about Professor Ozpin,” Sweetie Belle instructed.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong impression of him; I know I haven’t mentioned him very much,” Sunset said. “He was not the kind of person who would have willingly sacrificed someone like Pyrrha unless… unless he felt he had no other choice. He had been fighting for so long, he had endured so much that… that it had driven all hope out of him. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that there was a way out of this predicament that didn’t… that didn’t cost him something. Thankfully, I… well, I didn’t do that much. Princess Celestia did most of the work in persuading him otherwise; I just introduced the two of them.”

“And how about apart from that?” Scootaloo asked. “Have you ever encouraged people when they were feeling down?”

Sunset snorted. “I’m a team leader; encouraging people is part of my job. Why, what are you fillies thinking?”

“Well, you said that you started to feel your magic growing stronger after you helped Amber, but it didn’t feel like you’d quite ascended until after you helped Cinder,” Sweetie Belle said. “But you were kind of doing the same thing both times, so what’s the difference?”

“One worked, and the other one didn’t,” Sunset said flatly.

“But why?” Sweetie Belle insisted. “Because Amber lost hope, but Cinder didn’t. Because you gave Cinder hope, but like you said yourself, you couldn’t do that for Amber. That’s the difference. You got partway there with Amber, but you only got it right with Cinder because you-“

“Princess of Hope?” Sunset said. “You think that I’m the Princess of Hope, don’t you?”

“It’s catchier than Princess of Help,” Scootaloo said. “A little.”

Sunset frowned. She thought back, and… while their pronunciation on her cutie mark had made sense, this very nearly prompted laughter on her part. “No,” she said. “No, that can’t be right. I’m sorry, but you’re missing something; we need to cover more ground.”

“What makes you so sure?” Twilight asked.

“Because I have had no hope for months, as you well know,” Sunset declared. “I wrote to you, I wrote to Princess Celestia, you know how… you know what I did, what fear moved me to. You know how I despaired at the way things were going with Ruby. How can I possibly have been the Princess of Hope all that time when hope was absent from my heart?”

“And how did that work out for you?” Scootaloo asked.

Sunset bowed her head. “Terribly,” she admitted. “I… I made mistakes, I misjudged people, I… I forgot who I was.” She looked up. “That was your point, wasn’t it? That I had betrayed myself.”

“Ah don’t think that being the Princess of Hope means you never let things get you down,” Apple Bloom said. “Ah think it means that you bring hope to others. But if you don’t have any yourself, if you can’t even muster it up on your own, then how can you do that?”

“How indeed,” Sunset murmured. A Princess of Hope would have encouraged her other self to resist Salem and her threats, inspired the Queen and the rest of Freeport to resist… but the Princess of Hope had forsaken hope, had had the fires of her hope snuffed out by grinding torment. She had forsaken herself, and so, she had forsaken the world around her.

Princess of Hope. Could it be so? The girls’ logic seemed sound enough; it was a difference between her failure with Amber and her success with Cinder. And it was a thin line between helping someone and inspiring them, so that link was there, but… could it be so? Had she done enough to earn that title?

Princess of Hope.

Inspiring Ozpin had been Celestia’s doing, not hers. And she had lacked hope other times than their recent journey overland: in Mountain Glenn, when Salem’s visions had knocked hope out of her.

Another time when I betrayed myself.

If they were judging by ‘made colossal mistakes in the absence of the same,’ then, yes, it appeared she did need hope as much as anyone, and more than most in order to get her decisions.

But had she spread hope? Had she inspired anyone?

“I think it fits,” Twilight said.

Sunset looked at her. “You think? But-”

“You’ve written to me so often,” Twilight said, “and Princess Celestia shares a great deal of what you write to her. I feel like I know you well enough to say that you’ve inspired quite a few people along the way. Sure, you’ve struggled sometimes, but that’s true of any of us.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” Twilight said.

“Hmm… Princess of Hope,” Sunset murmured. “That doesn’t seem like a title that comes with cool powers.”

“It means that you can inspire people to be their best selves, to be better than they ever thought they could be,” Twilight replied. “What could be more amazing than that?”

“Death rays.”

Twilight stared at her.

“I’m joking,” Sunset said. A soft smile played across her face. “Princess of Hope.” Sunset Shimmer, Princess of Hope. “In that case, I should thank you once again, you and Princess Celestia.”

Twilight’s brow furrowed. “What for?”

“Because coming here, by your leave, has restored my hope,” Sunset declared, “and it seems it is my duty, and my privilege, to carry that hope back with me to Remnant when my time here is done.” She paused. “And yet…”

“Something wrong?”

“Princess of Hope, with a talent for helping others,” Sunset remarked. “It seems a frail thing to set against the will of Salem, her malice and her…” She glanced at the Cutie Mark Crusaders. “Her malice and her monsters.”

“'Monsters'?” Sweetie Belle asked nervously. “This world really doesn’t sound so great.”

“I don’t know; I think monster hunting might be kind of cool,” Scootaloo said.

“No, you don’t,” Sunset and Apple Bloom both said simultaneously.

“A frail thing?” Twilight repeated. “Maybe. But so is friendship, so is love, and yet, at the same time, for all their frailty, they are the most powerful things in the world, able to defeat immensely powerful evils. Yes, hope is frail, yes, it can be damaged or lost, but it can also inspire deeds of tremendous courage and power, and you know that, because you’ve seen it for yourself.”

Sunset chuckled. “A lot of heart,” she whispered.

“Pardon?”

“Something I said to Pyrrha once,” Sunset explained, “when she asked me what we had to set against all the power at Salem’s command. A lot of heart. And hope, it seems.”

“Don’t underestimate it.”

“No, I’d better not, hadn’t I?” Sunset replied. There’s been enough of that already.

Princess of Hope.

I just hope it’s enough.

Larval Concept

Larval Concept

The golden aura of Princess Celestia’s magic surrounded the gold-rimmed china teacup as she levitated up off the saucer and raised it delicately to her mouth, sipping gently from the tea within. “Princess of Hope, you say?”

“So they tell me, Princess,” Sunset replied, and her horn flared with green light as she too lifted her teacup up and drank from it.

“Sunset, please,” Celestia chided. “There is no need for that.”

Sunset smiled as she set her cup back down on the saucer. “So they tell me… Mother.”

Princess Celestia chuckled wordlessly, a fond smile upon her face that illuminated her eyes and set a sparkle in them like starlight.

“So they tell you with good reason,” Twilight pointed out. “Do you still doubt it?”

“Not exactly,” Sunset replied. “But… there isn’t much to prove it, is there? It’s… a theory.”

“One with which I can agree,” Celestia said. “Having heard what you told those three young fillies, I am inclined to agree with their conclusions. And, even if I did not, it is their talent to discover and discern such things, not mine.”

Sunset grinned. “So I should trust in their cutie marks when they tell me what my cutie mark and my crown are?”

“On the subject of your cutie mark, I have no doubt that they are correct,” Celestia said, and once more, she raised her teacup and drank from it. “I had my suspicions at the time, from the moment that you got your cutie mark, and I learned from you and your teachers just how you came by it.”

“'Suspicions'?” Sunset repeated. “You never gave them voice to me.”

The three princesses – Sunset could get used to including herself in that esteemed company – were sat in the palace gardens. The sun shone as brightly as it ever did under Celestia’s control, untroubled by any cloud in the sky around, its golden light bearing pleasantly down upon them to illuminate the flowers that surrounded them in a riot of colour. They sat around a round white table, supported upon spindly brass legs that curled ornately in loops and which dug slightly into the grass beneath them. A china teapot, three cups and saucers, and a plate of shortbread biscuits sat between them.

“It was impossible to know for sure,” Celestia replied. “You were so magically gifted, many believed that your talent was that same magical gift. The circumstances under which you acquired your cutie mark gave me pause, and I had hope that your gift might turn out to be something more cooperative, but… as I said, I do not have the skill of Twilight’s young friends in determining what a pony’s talent is or is not. Twilight’s cutie mark seemed also to be her prodigious magical talent, but the design of her cutie mark made me hope that it would be something more.”

Twilight put down her tea cup. It clinked against the saucer. “You mean you took me on as your student not because of my magical talent, but because-”

“Because you could become the Element of Magic and the Princess of Friendship,” Sunset finished for her. “I thought you’d worked that out by now.”

“You give me too much credit, or too little,” Celestia said. “But it is true that mere magical talent could have been honed within the school. I didn’t know exactly where either of your gifts would take you, but I hoped it would take you where no ordinary unicorn would go.” She smiled. “And you both did, each in your own way, and you both achieved your destinies, not with great magical skill, but with the more hidden talents that lay within you, revealed only in your cutie marks.”

“Well,” Sunset murmured. “Not with great magical skill alone. In either of our cases.”

“Maybe,” Twilight acknowledged. “But the point stands, right?”

Sunset nodded. “Oh, the point definitely stands.”

She levitated a shortbread up to her mouth and took a demure nibble, chewing it for a few moments before swallowing. It was sweet, and crumbly, and soft on her tongue. Delicious.

“I absolutely take your point, and certainly as far as my cutie mark goes, looking back at what I’ve done… what I’ve helped others to do… it is not a talent I’m ashamed to have.”

“I don’t see any reason why anypony should be ashamed of their cutie mark,” Twilight said.

“Says the pony who has no need to be ashamed of hers,” Sunset replied. “Some of them are a bit… some ponies get rubbish marks, you must admit.”

“Such as?”

Sunset thought about it for a moment. “Drawing circles.”

“It doesn’t make drawing circles the only thing that that pony can do.”

“I know,” Sunset replied. “But what does it say that the greatest gift you can give to Equestria is to draw circles?”

“I think it’s quite cool to be able to draw a perfect circle every single time.”

“You would,” Sunset muttered, with a smile to show she meant no ill by it. “Although I’m a little surprised to hear that you can’t draw a perfect circle.”

“I can… sometimes,” Twilight admitted. “That’s why it’s cool to be able to do it every time.”

“I am sure that there are some misguided individuals who would say that a talent for helping others is every bit as worthy of mockery as drawing circles,” Celestia said, in a tone of gentle reproof.

“I wasn’t mocking-”

“But the fact that there are some who do not appreciate a thing does not mean that there is nothing to appreciate,” Celestia continued. “Only that those who do not appreciate are not looking from the right angle.”

“Okay, okay, I take your point; I didn’t mean to put anypony down,” Sunset said, raising her hooves in surrender. She paused. “Is that why you didn’t tell me what my mark might mean, because you knew that I would be one of those who did not appreciate it?”

Celestia was silent for a moment. “When you invited your fellow student over to help him study, I said very little, but in truth, I was delighted by it, and even more delighted when it seemed that you might have a true talent, declared by destiny itself, for assisting others in their goals and endeavours. I hoped that you would come to that realisation on your own, or at least that you would continue what you had begun with Snapdragon. But you did not, and soon… it became too late to nudge you in that direction; you had become… you would not have understood the lesson if I had tried to teach it to you.”

“I had to learn it on my own,” Sunset murmured. “And I say that not just because I did learn it on my own, but because… you were a wonderful teacher, and I loved every moment that we spent together, and I have always and will always value your advice, but – and I think Twilight will agree with me on this, and I think that you must agree with me too, or you wouldn’t have sent Twilight to Ponyville in the first place – that there is only so much that you can learn from formal lessons, even from the very best of teachers.” She paused for a moment. “Professor Ozpin thought that if he raised Amber in isolation, away from the corruption of the world, that he could raise a perfect Maiden out of the old stories, virtuous and kind. Instead…”

“In order to laugh, you need to learn how to cry,” Twilight said. “You cannot be generous if you’re always given everything you want. It’s easy to be honest or loyal when it doesn’t cost you anything, and it’s easy to be kind when everypony dotes on you.”

“Quite so, Twilight,” Celestia replied. “As much as it pained me to see you go, I knew that it was only by leaving my side and making your own life in Ponyville, forging your friendships and having your adventures and, yes, suffering your travails, that you could fulfil your destiny. And, although it was not planned in your case, Sunset, I am glad that you too travelled that same path.” The smile faded from Celestia’s face. “Although it is a pity that Professor Ozpin did not learn the same lesson.”

“Indeed,” Sunset murmured. “If… if I am at all disappointed, it is that my crown does not better allow me to help him in his labours.”

Celestia’s eyebrow rose. “And why should a Princess of Hope be unable to help him? It seems to me, from our admittedly brief acquaintance, that Professor Ozpin – or whatever he chooses to go by next – is in great need of hope. Perhaps he is in more need of hope than anything else. From our conversation, I fear the years have sapped his will.”

“I fear you may be right,” Sunset agreed. “And yet, while I may be able to make him more buoyant… somehow, I’m not sure how this is supposed to work, but in any case, giving him more hope will not actually bring our victory any closer.”

“But banishing despair may push defeat further off,” Celestia remarked.

“That… that is true,” Sunset acknowledged. “You speak wisely, as ever.” She chuckled to herself. “I kind of wish that I was princess of something that I could more obviously control.”

“You don’t get to be princess of just anything,” Twilight informed her. “Only something that you’ve already worked towards. In a sense, you became princess of… keep doing what you’re doing.”

“You didn’t mention that, either,” Sunset pointed.

“Would it have helped?”

“Considering I didn’t know what I was doing at the time, probably not,” Sunset conceded. She snorted. “Princess of Keep Doing What You’re Doing. Except I’m not so sure.”

“You think Twilight is mistaken?” Celestia asked.

“No,” Sunset said quickly. “I’m just not sure that doing what I’ve been doing – even at my best self… actually, I’m not sure that what we’ve been doing is the way to get to what I want: a final victory.” She took another bite of shortbread. “Can I run something by the two of you?”

“Of course,” Celestia said. “You have never hesitated to ask for our help or advice before.”

“I have, actually, but never mind,” Sunset said. She leaned forward a little, resting her hooves upon the table and pushing her teacup and saucer away from her. “Professor Ozpin has kept everything a secret from all but his closest confidants: Maidens, Relics, Salem, all of it. He gave out to his servants only such information as he would need. He had his reasons for that, and I don’t think that he did it to preserve his own power the way I did before, but… nevertheless, I didn’t agree with it at the time, and I don’t really agree with it now. It strikes me that, if I am to follow a path of hope, as it seems that I ought to… I should put my faith in humanity and tell them all the truth about all of this, trusting them to come together against Salem, to do what’s right, to prove that we – that they – are not as weak and easily corrupted as she thinks, or that Professor Ozpin fears. There would be risks behind it; if everyone found out about a mastermind controlling the grimm and aiming at the destruction of the kingdoms, then panic would spike… but if General Ironwood were on board with the plan, then he could deploy his forces to protect the world while we got over that initial hump and everybody else organised themselves to…”

Twilight and Celestia both waited for a moment. “To what?” Twilight asked.

Sunset laughed self-deprecatingly. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” she asked. “Yes, it would be a very hopeful move: tell everyone the truth, put your faith in people, trust love… but to what end? What good will it do to unite the world against a foe who cannot be brought down? I feel… I feel as though I need the answer to that question before I do… before I take such a momentous step, at least.”

“I cannot fault the logic of that,” Celestia conceded. “But, nor can I say that I do not like your notion. Telling the people of Remnant the truth… I understand, from what you’ve told me, that it comes with risks, but as Twilight said: it is easy to be honest when it costs you nothing.”

“I’m not sure how Professor Ozpin – or General Ironwood, for that matter – will feel about the idea, but if you think it’s a good one, then I will put it to them.”

“Sunset,” Celestia said. “I will always be ready to offer what counsel I can, but you are a princess yourself; that alone should give you confidence in your own decisions.”

I’d have more confidence in my decisions if my decisions worked out more often, Sunset thought, but it was good advice and kindly meant, and so she said, “I… I will try.” She paused for a moment. “Do you think… do you think that it’s too soon to write to Ruby? I know that it hasn’t been very long, but-”

“I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear from you,” Twilight said.

“Really?” Sunset asked. She hesitated. “Would… would you two mind staying?”

“If you wish,” Celestia said. “Or perhaps, since you don’t have the book with you, the correct term would be that we should come with you.”

“No, stay here,” Sunset said. “I’ll be back in just a second.” She teleported, disappearing in a flash of green light and a crack, and reappearing with that same crack and a second brilliant flash of light inside the palace – inside her room in the palace, to be precise.

She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she wasn’t alone in there. There was somepony else present when she teleported: a dark blue earth pony in a dark waistcoat, presumably a servant.

A servant who jumped slightly when she teleported in.

“Sorry,” Sunset said hastily. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.”

“Well, I am, as you can see,” the servingpony replied.

“Well, yes,” Sunset admitted. She paused, waiting for anything that might be forthcoming.

Nothing was.

“So why are you here?” she asked.

“Just… tidying up,” he said, tugging at the bed cover with one hoof.

“Right,” Sunset replied.

That made sense. There was no need to be suspicious; why else would anypony be in here? This wasn’t Remnant; she didn’t need to be on edge all the time.

This was Equestria, here she could relax.

“I’ll leave you to that in a second; I just need to grab something,” Sunset said.

Her horn glowed as she grabbed her saddlebags in the grip of her telekinesis and pulled them out of their hiding place under the bed, opening up the left bag and pulling from it a new journal, one that she had made, connected to another book that Ruby had in Freeport. It was, like the journal that Celestia had given her so long ago, a leatherbound book, large, with a sense of weight and gravity about it – a very real weight and gravity; you could hit someone with this if you wanted to – and embossed upon the cover with half of Sunset’s sun, the sun that would illuminate others for all to see them and admire them, and half with Ruby’s rose.

Sunset replaced the saddlebags but kept the book, drawing it close to her with a half smile upon her face, before she teleported back out into the garden where Princess Celestia and Twilight were waiting for her.

“I’m back,” she said. “And I see you’ve already made room, thank you.”

“No problem,” Twilight replied.

Sunset laid the book out on the table, opening it up to the first page.

The first page, with everything unwritten, blank, waiting to be covered.

Yeah, I’ll take that.

Sunset picked up a pen – thank you again, Twilight – and began to write.

Hey, Ruby. It’s Sunset here. You’re probably busy ruling Freeport wisely and well, but if you have a moment

Sunset!

I caught you at a good time, then?

Uh huh. I had some time to myself. I just got done with a tribal council meeting – although that’s pretty much just Ember and Rutherford at the moment, but we are talking about how to get the other tribes back – and then soon I’ll have to go to a meeting of the city council. Or at least a meeting about how we can set up a city council.

To do what?

To run the city. I don’t want to have to always be here because there’s nobody else who can make any decisions in my place, so I’m trying to set up another council that can govern the city even if I’m not around. Torchwick says I should just leave him in charge if I go anywhere

Yeah, I think your idea is much better.

I’m glad to hear it. Dad said it was a good idea too, but part of me is worried that I’m just being lazy, trying to offload my responsibilities onto other people.

“May I, Sunset?” Celestia asked.

“Of course,” Sunset said, a slight smile playing across her face as she set down the pen. Celestia’s horn glowed as she, in turn, took it up and began to write.

Ruby, this is Princess Celestia. I would like to offer some advice, if I may.

Oh, hello, Your Majesty. Please, be my guest. Not that I can really stop you writing, but I want to hear it. Or read it. You know what I mean.

I understand your concerns; when my sister and I were newly raised to the throne, we too worried that we were not active enough, not doing enough to govern Equestria. But you cannot be afraid of delegation. In fact, I will go further and say that a ruler’s ability to delegate is a more potent weapon than any armies that she may possess – not least because even, or especially, an army cannot be run or maintained without that gift of delegation.

No ruler can administer all of the affairs of a kingdom, not even the smallest kingdom that was ever conceived of, and any ruler who tries will soon find themselves so enmired in trivialities that they will never accomplish anything. The trick is to recognise two things: first, what is important and what is not, because the less important a thing is, the more safely it can be left to others; second, the strengths and abilities of those who report to you, that you may delegate the more vital tasks to those who are better suited to deal with them.

Any advice on how I work those things out?

Celestia chuckled. I fear that that can only be learned from experience. Nevertheless, I will say that your endeavour is a wise one and speaks well to your character that you do not seek to hoard all power to yourself. I will give you one more piece of advice in dealing with councils: a ruler who listens is wiser than one who speaks; when in council, you should endeavour to say as little as possible, but to hear all the arguments that are made to you. Judge by the character of those who make the arguments, in part, but do not let that blind you to the wisdom and quality of the arguments themselves; an odious individual may yet make a sound point.

Listen to the arguments, okay, even if they come from Torchwick. Any other tips and tricks I should know about?

Learn all that you can about the realm you rule: about its rivers, its forests, its fields and townships, its natural resources and the numbers of its people, every scrap of knowledge that you can obtain. If you do not, your ignorance will be noted; it may be excused at present, on account of how new you are to the place and the people, but that excuse will not endure forever, and as it fails, so will ignorance undermine you.

So what you’re saying is that I should probably be working right now?

Ruling a realm is a hard duty, no matter how much you delegate, but it is important to find time for yourself, whenever possible, or why should I be here having tea with Sunset and Twilight when there is so much that demands my attention? If you neglect yourself, you will go mad, so by all means, take this respite while you can. And now, I will give you back to Sunset.

Once more, Sunset levitated the pen up in the grip of her magic and began to write with it. Sunset: So, busy busy, huh?

You have no idea. And it’s only been a couple of days! It’s not going to get any easier, is it? Actually, don’t answer that.

Sunset grinned. Okay then, I won’t. What do you have in mind to bring the tribes and clans to heel?

Apparently, there’s an old tradition amongst the clans, that they would gather at a place called Giant’s Round, where any lord or prince of their clan could summon a gathering, to discuss what to do when the Valish invaded or when the Mistralians came. Ember and Rutherford both think that I should call a gathering, like in the old days, or they’ll call one for me, and that will hopefully bring clans together and I can convince them to accept my rule.

Is that how the Sun Queen did it?

No, she got them on her side individually, but that would take longer, and besides, Ember says that the fact that the Sun Queen didn’t call a meeting at the Giant’s Round means that it has a word that I can’t remember but begins with L

Legitimacy?

Yeah, that’s the one; it has legitimacy. It wasn’t corrupted by her.

Then that sounds like a plan. Let me know if you need any help with your speech.

I’m going to have to make a speech?

How else did you expect to get them on your side?

I don’t know; I just hoped some other way than having to get up and talk in front of everyone.

Don’t sell yourself short; you’re very passionate.

That doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Anyway, what about you, how are things in Equestria?

Sunset glanced at her two companions. “Is it okay if I tell her, or will it seem like bragging?”

“It won’t seem like bragging unless you brag about it,” Twilight said. “And besides, I think she’ll want to know.”

Sunset took a breath. “Yes. Yes, you’re probably right.” I’m the Princess of Hope now, so they say. Or rather, I have been ever since I saved Cinder, probably, but I only just realised it now. With the help of three talented young children, I’ve come to understand myself a little better.

'Princess of Hope'? That sounds cool, but what does it mean?

Sunset thought for a moment about how best to explain it. What it means is a little hard to explain, but the basics of it is that spreading hope is my job. It’s what I am empowered to do, what I’m sent to do; it’s my task.

You know, when you put it like that, I can see it.

Sunset snorted. You’re not the first to say so.

When you wanted to, you could always make us feel braver, feel better, feel

Not always when I wanted to.

It took Ruby a moment to reply. No, I suppose not. But you could at Beacon, when things were good.

I suppose I did always have a clever tongue. And as I said, it fits with the other thing that I learned.

What’s that?

That I’m not the hero. I’m not the one who's going to save the day. I may have been your team leader, but I was the leader so that I could make you Queen of Freeport, so that I could make Pyrrha the Fall Maiden, so that I could help Blake get to Atlas. I’m the one who helps you achieve your greatness; I do not have it in myself.

I don’t know; helping other people sounds pretty great to me.

Sunset smiled. Thank you, Ruby; that means a lot, coming from you.

So you’re glad you went back there, then?

Sunset nodded, for all that Ruby couldn’t see it through the page. Yeah, I really am. And I’m not just saying that because Celestia and Twilight are right there. I really did need this. It’s made a lot of things clearer. Hey, Ruby, how do you think your people would react if they found out about Salem?

Why?

I’m considering whether we ought to tell the world the truth about her and about what’s going on?

Ruby did not reply at once. When she did reply, it was to write. If that was a good idea, don’t you think Professor Ozpin would have done it by now?

Maybe, but Professor Ozpin was so afraid of the consequences, maybe too afraid.

The consequences are real. People would panic. Remember how we reacted when we found out?

I know, and it’s a good point, but at the moment, it’s like we’re running just to stand still – and not even managing that. I just think it’s worth considering if there is another way. Don’t worry; I’m not going to spill the beans to everyone I come across. I just want to consider it, and to consult with you and Pyrrha and Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood, at least to make the suggestion.

I guess you’ve got a point as well. I suppose it is worth thinking about. I have to go now. It’s time to have a meeting about having a city council that can have meetings. But I’m glad you wrote. I’m really glad that we could have this talk. Speak again soon?

Definitely. Good luck out there. She closed the book with a sigh of relief. “That… that went…” She closed her eyes. “I’m glad.”

Twilight approached from the side and nuzzled at her with her snout. “No matter what troubles you and Ruby go through, she’ll never stop being your friend.”

“I guess so,” Sunset said, smiling a little. “I’ll just put the journal back; I won’t take a second.”

She teleported away again and again appeared inside her room.

The servant who had been there before was still there.

“Not quite finished yet?” Sunset asked.

He smiled at her. “Almost,” he said, “but not quite. Just a few loose ends that need… tidying up.”

Where and Back Again

Where and Back Again

“Ah,” Princess Celestia said. “I see you have… returned.”

“A little early, Your Highness, but yes,” Cinder acknowledged as she walked into the palace. “Starlight Glimmer decided to cut her visit short and return to Ponyville.”

That was a rather polite way of saying that she’d had a panic attack at the thought of any responsibility being placed upon her guilty shoulders, but Cinder could see no reason why she should not be polite to Starlight Glimmer. She might not have felt the same way, but she could understand it: leadership had been a poison to her, or so she thought, and hence, she shunned it, content to leave the burden for others to take up.

In that, at least, they were quite similar.

Cinder hoped that Starlight could get over it, or at least get through it; she was a pleasant mare and had been reasonable company on the journey north, but she was not about to force her into anything, nor would she shame her in front of Princess Celestia with a more complete account of what had occurred.

“I see,” Princess Celestia said, her voice disinterested. “I’m sure you have things to do, and so do I. All those ponies won’t tell themselves what to do, after all.”

That was an attitude to rulership with which Cinder was quite familiar, but it was odd to hear it from the mouth of none other than Princess Celestia. Yes, she was – even leaving aside her immense magical power – an absolute monarch, an autocrat with untrammelled powers such as the Emperors of Mistral, constrained by the indulgence of their noble houses, could only have dreamed of possessing, and yet, at the same time, she seemed to strive to bear herself with at least a modicum of humility. Cinder might not call her truly humble – she had too much of a regal air about her for that – but she lacked pretension, or even the airs which she might have been justified in putting on. She would not, as Sunset had done, confuse humility with allowing others to kick you like a cur across the threshold, but nor would she kick others, or even carry herself as though she had the right to do so.

She was, not to put too fine a point upon it, one of the last people whom Cinder would have thought to hear say words such as those which had just passed her lips. About the only person from whom such sentiments would have surprised Cinder more was Pyrrha.

So Cinder thought, at least, and yet, as she thought it, the more it occurred to her that she had little enough in the way of grounds to think so. She had only known Princess Celestia for a brief while; she hadn't even spoken to her in Sunset's magic book, and she had been stern with Cinder after dinner. It was always possible that she could have a harsher side which Cinder had simply not yet witnessed, and yet…

And yet, could someone – somepony, as they put it in this land – for whom kindness and humility were simply a mask that they donned to gull the world have earned Sunset's undying love and respect in the way that Princess Celestia had? Would Sunset have spoken of her so fondly, with such admiration, and only in terms of her grace, her kindness, her compassion, and all the other sweet virtues that shone from her as the sun which she commanded shone above? Sunset had never mentioned anything like this; Sunset had made it seem as though she had no flaws at all. Could she have been so blind? And if Princess Celestia was so good at hiding, why let slip now?

You're reading too much into this, by far. They were words, nothing more. Words poorly chosen, but words nonetheless. She's having a bad day, as we all do from time to time.

"Princess," Cinder called out to Princess Celestia's retreating back. "Did Sunset have any luck today?"

Princess Celestia was silent for a moment. "You'd have to ask her that," she declared. "Now, I have important business to attend to."

She retreated through the nearest door and closed it firmly behind her.

That was odd, stranger than anything that Princess Celestia had said. Cinder could accept that anyone, even a princess, could have a bad day and be a little out of sorts, but for Sunset to not share anything of what she had learned with Princess Celestia? To seek out knowledge and understanding of herself – that was essentially what it was, for all that Cinder might make fun of childish terminology employed – and then keep it all secret from her mother? Cinder could imagine a princess having a bad day, but she found it harder to imagine Sunset not telling her about her something like this, which seemed – from what Cinder could pick up – to be something culturally ubiquitous amongst ponies but which Sunset had been denied or at least failed to achieve. To not tell her what she, Sunset, was the princess of? That was a lot harder for Cinder to imagine.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Still, perhaps Princess Celestia had been in such a bad mood that Sunset hadn't wanted to bother her. Perhaps Sunset had found out nothing and had retired to her room to lick her wounds rather than confess her failure?

Whichever it was, there was only one way to find out for certain. Cinder made her way to Sunset's room, passing through a palace that – unlike its most royal resident – seemed unchanged from when she had left it earlier, with the guards standing ostentatiously at their posts and the servants going about their business just as they had, with none of them seeming to have altered one bit. Only Princess Celestia was different, and if Princess Celestia was out of sorts, well… she had the right, as much as anyone did.

Cinder reached Sunset's room and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Sunset called out from within.

"It's me," Cinder said.

There was a pause, stretching out for a few moments, before the door opened to reveal Sunset standing on the other side. She looked up at Cinder in surprise, but that surprise swiftly faded as the smile spread across her face. “Hey. You’re back early. I wasn’t expecting you for a week.”

"Starlight decided to cut our trip short," Cinder explained, without explaining anything.

"Oh. Was everything okay?," Sunset said.

"Not for her, unfortunately," Cinder replied. "Although exactly how bad it is or was depends on whether you think that her old village is worth the effort, I suppose."

It had struck her as a very ordinary place; which was fine, for some people, but at the same time… Starlight already lived in one place which could at least perform ordinariness perfectly well even if it was not entirely ordinary – it was, after all, home to Equestria’s champions – so why did Starlight need to travel so far out of her way for a second-rate version of what was already on her doorstep? She had not said so, but it seemed to Cinder that Starlight had everything she needed in Ponyville already, without bothering to travel to distant locales for second-rate substitutes. Starlight seemed to think that she had failed in some way, but Cinder was more inclined to say that she had made her choice, and not necessarily the wrong one.

Although, perhaps she had made it for the wrong reasons.

"Probably not," Sunset agreed.

The two fell into a silence. And not a companionable silence, either; in fact, it was a rather uncomfortable silence that stretched out between the two of them, each seeming to wait for the other to say something without saying anything themselves.

"Well," Sunset said. "I have things to be getting on with, so if you'll excuse me-" She started to shut the door, only for said door to run flat into Cinder's outstretched arm.

"'Things to do'?" Cinder repeated. "What kind of things?"

"Oh, you know," Sunset replied. "Important princess things."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "What's going on around here?"

"You not taking a hint?" Sunset suggested.

"First, Princess Celestia sounded off when I came in, and now you," Cinder said. "Did something happen while I was away?"

"No!" Sunset said quickly. "Nothing happened, nothing at all! You know what, why don't you come inside?"

Cinder smirked. "What about all of your important princess things that you had to do?"

"They can wait," Sunset said.

"Of course they can wait; they're non-existent," Cinder said sharply. "If something's bothering you, don't make up excuses to get rid of me so that you can mope by yourself, and certainly don't make those excuses tissue-thin. Especially," she added, reaching down to pick Sunset up and lift her off the floor into Cinder's arms, raising her up until the two of them were level, "since you've already proved quite thoroughly that you make absolutely terrible decisions without me."

Sunset pouted and looked away. "Please put me down."

Cinder chuckled and leaned forward just a little bit to touch the tip of Sunset's snout with her own. Then she carried Sunset into the room, using her tail to shut the door behind her, and then, and only then, did she set Sunset down upon the floor once more.

"So," Cinder said, sitting down on Sunset's bed. "How did it go?"

Sunset sighed. "It was a bit of a bust, to tell you the truth."

"Really?" Cinder asked. "You mean you're no closer to finding out what your cutie mark means or what you're the princess of?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Guess not."

"Oh," Cinder murmured. "I… I'm sorry to hear that." She glanced away from Sunset for a moment, resting both her hands upon the mattress. "And those three fillies, they weren't able to tell you anything? Not even give you a hint-?"

"I said no, okay!" Sunset snapped. "Just leave it alone." She turned her back on Cinder. "Leave me alone."

"Hey!" Cinder snapped, rising to her feet. "Don't be like that. I know you're upset, but there's no call to act like such a drama queen over it!"

"Why not?" Sunset asked in a surly tone.

"Because we've both been through so much worse?" Cinder suggested. "If you were to tally up the list of our low points, this wouldn't even make the top ten. So you still don't know what the mark on your rear end means, well, I'm sorry, but boo hoo! I appreciate that this is your culture, and I was hoping that you could find out the truth so that you could feel a little more satisfied with yourself, but come on!" She stepped over Sunset, and then turned around so that she was facing her once more as she knelt before her. "You didn't need to know your cutie mark to be great before, to rescue me, to lead your team, to win their loyalty, or their love.” She reached out and cupped Sunset’s face with her hand, running her claws through that fiery mane. “When we return to Remnant, nobody will care what your cutie mark is. You’ll kick ass regardless, just like always. So for the gods’ sake, stop acting as though this is the worst possible thing.”

Sunset smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “Of course you’re right.” She laughed. “I’m overreacting, as always.” She pulled away, leaving Cinder behind as she headed out onto the balcony. “I have been thinking, though.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cinder murmured, as she followed Sunset out into the sunlight. “May one ask what you’ve been thinking about?”

Sunset sat down, letting the light fall upon her, making her mane gleam brightly, the sunlight burnishing gold and making the red seem even more vibrant than it did in shadow. “What if,” she began, glancing at Cinder, “we didn’t go back to Remnant? What if we stayed here?”

Cinder was silent for a moment. She had… well, she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t considered the possibility that Sunset could do this. This was, after all, her home, her kingdom; this was her mother in whose palace they were staying. Equestria was the place where Sunset had come from, and arguably, it was the place where she belonged. Cinder had thought that Sunset could stay; she certainly had the option to do so. But at the same time, even while she had feared the possibility, she had never really expected to hear Sunset give it voice.

Stay in Equestria? Not return to Remnant? Abandon Ruby and Pyrrha and Jaune and Blake and all the rest who meant so much to her? Give up the fight, after just telling Cinder that she planned to win the fight outright, end it once and for all? It was true that Sunset had come close to giving up the struggle before – by her own admission, she had surrendered to Dawn Starfall and been ready to embrace oblivion – but that had been at her lowest, when she had earnestly thought that she was doing what was best for Ruby.

Now, after that, after turning that corner, she was ready to throw in the towel again for a life of luxury? For soft beds and palace living?

Sunset was a great many things, but she was not the kind of person to forsake the battle for a mere taste of softness. That was not her at all.

Or at least, Cinder hoped she was not.

This, unfortunately, could not be explained merely as the byproduct of a bad day.

“Really?” she said softly, adopting a thoroughly disinterested tone. “Home comforts have proven so enjoyable that you cannot tear yourself away?”

Sunset grinned. “It is pretty nice here, isn’t it? Everyone is so very generous with their affection.”

“Hmm,” Cinder murmured. She pushed herself up to her feet. “Excuse me a moment.”

Sunset looked up at her. “Where are you going?”

“I need to speak to Cardin about something,” Cinder said. “If he’s going to be going home without us, the least that we could do is warn him about it, no?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Yes,” she agreed. “I guess so.”

“Don’t worry,” Cinder said. “I won’t be long.” She turned away and started to stride towards the door. “Unless you’d prefer to be alone?” she asked.

“No,” Sunset replied. “Not at all. Having you here, it… it fills me up with so much love.”

Cinder snorted. “How very saccharine and sentimental of you. We really are turning into Jaune and Pyrrha, aren’t we?”

Sunset chuckled. “I guess so. Hurry back.”

I’ll hurry back alright, Cinder thought to herself, as she left the room. As she closed the door behind her, it was all that she could do not to break into a run.

Cardin was the only one that she could trust. If Princess Celestia had acted normally when Cinder came in, she would have gone to her, but Princess Celestia had not acted normally; she had been just as abnormal as Sunset, and while that could have been excused in just one of them, when Sunset was acting strangely too, that was enough to make Cinder suspicious.

Her claws itched. What was going on? Who could she turn to? Princess Twilight Sparkle and Starlight Glimmer, hopefully, but they were both in Ponyville some distance away. There was another princess here in Canterlot, a Princess Luna, but Cinder had never met her and didn’t know how to find her even if she did trust her.

She didn’t know anyone – anypony – here. Cardin was the only one in the palace that she could count on.

Assuming that they hadn't gotten to him, too.

No one tried to intercept her as she made her way – swiftly, but not quite running, so as not to draw too much attention to herself – down the corridors and up the stairs to Cardin’s room. She hammered upon the door.

“Cardin!” she snapped. “Cardin, open up!”

There was a groan from the other side of the door. “It’s open.”

Cinder tried the door. It was indeed open, and so, she opened it and stepped inside – closing it after her – to find a large mound rising out of the bed, engulfed by sheets and duvet so that it could not be seen.

Despite the circumstances, the sight of it gave Cinder a moment’s pause. “Cardin?”

“Mmhm?”

Cinder folded her arms. “Have you been in bed all day?”

Cardin groaned. “It’s not like I have anything better to do,” he said as the mound shifted and shuffled and Cardin’s equine head emerged into view. “And the bed is comfortable, and the pillows are soft, and neither of those things has been true for me since we left Vale. Besides, we came here to relax, right? So, I’m relaxing. I might as well while I can.”

Cinder marched to his bedside. “You need to get up.”

“Why?” Cardin asked, stifling a yawn.

“Doesn’t sleeping in the day make you tired?” Cinder asked.

“Uh huh,” Cardin said. “I wake up dizzy, and my mouth has all kinds of crap in it.”

“Then why-?”

“That’s the great part; I’m not actually sleeping,” Cardin explained. “I’m resting my eyes in a comfortable environment.”

“An important distinction, I see,” Cinder murmured.

“Crucial,” Cardin agreed, oblivious to her sarcasm. “So, did you actually want anything, or-?”

“Something’s up with Sunset.”

Cardin rolled over on her. “Something is always up with Sunset,” he declared.

Cinder rolled her eyes. She grabbed the bedsheets and tore them off him, tossing them aside.

“Hey!” Cardin protested.

“I came in, and Princess Celestia was short with me,” Cinder said quickly, the words rattling out of her mouth at pace. “She was not her usual self. Now, I could ignore that, being as I am a guest here, but then I go up to Sunset’s room, and she tells me that she didn’t learn anything about her cutie mark, acts like that is the worst thing in the world, and then tells me that she means to stay here in Equestria and not return to Remnant.”

That last caused Cardin to sit up. “What? She’s going to stay here?”

“Apparently, yes.”

Cardin was silent for a moment. “Well that’s… well, crap. We’re going to have a hard time without her.”

“First of all, it’s almost cute that you think there might be a 'we' without her, but rather foolish at the same time,” Cinder said. “Second of all, obviously, you’re not going to have to manage by yourself because Sunset isn’t going to just give up and retire here to live in the palace and… do whatever princesses do!”

“But you just said-”

“Obviously, something has happened,” Cinder said.

“Something to make her change her mind?”

“No!” Cinder yelled. “For the gods’ sake, why is this concept so hard for you to grasp?”

“Because you’re not saying what you think is going on!”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not from here; I don’t know the possibilities. All I know is that, whatever that is, it is not Sunset, and I can prove it.”

Cardin got down off the bed, his hooves thudding upon the floor. “How?”

“I don’t think that it has Sunset’s memories,” Cinder said. “If I can get it to say something that Sunset would never say, will you believe me?”

Cardin frowned. “Sure,” he said. “But then, what are we going to do about it?”

“Take it to Princess Twilight and hope that she can get us our Sunset back,” Cinder suggested. “And their Princess Celestia, while they’re about it.”

“Princess Celestia?” Sunset said, as the door swung open. “Surely there’s no need to bother her with this trivial matter?”

Cinder glanced over her shoulder. “I told you that I wouldn’t be long; there was no need for you to follow me.”

“I was curious what it was that you wanted to talk about with Cardin,” Sunset – or whoever it was – replied. “And I’m glad I did.” She trotted inside, her hooves clapping upon the floor. “What wild and funny ideas you have, Cinder. What, do you think that I am not myself? Well, then who am I? Cardin, you don’t believe this?”

“Is it true?” Cardin asked. “You want to stay here?”

“It is a nice place to stay, don’t you think?” Sunset asked. “Why would I want to go anywhere else?”

“Duty?” Cardin suggested.

Sunset snorted. “Duty, well… yes, I understand duty. Go where you are commanded, do as you are commanded, serve as you are commanded. But do not expect to be rescued if you are captured, do not expect to be avenged if you fall, do not expect to be remembered if you fail, for you are but one in a multitude, and you can always be replaced.”

“How very Atlesian of you,” Cinder muttered. “I always thought you were more of a Mistralian by temperament.”

Sunset didn’t respond to that; Cinder suspected that it was because she didn’t understand what Cinder had just said. Either that, or what she had just said had struck home with her: a look of weariness had crossed her face, such as Sunset had worn at Freeport, when she was reaching the end of her tether. But it passed, or she shook it off, and looked from Cinder to Cardin with a smile playing across her face.

“I understand duty perfectly well,” she repeated. “Do not lecture me upon where my duty lies or where it must take me.” She snorted. “And besides, is love not the death of duty?”

“So it is said, by some,” Cinder agreed. “So you have even proved, upon times, I admit.”

“Well then,” Sunset replied. “Is it so strange that I should do so again? Is it so bizarre that I should choose peace and comfort and happiness over whatever awaits us in… Remnant?”

“Yes,” said Cardin, bluntly.

“Then I am changed,” Sunset admitted. “But change is not a bad thing, is it? It is not a sign that I am not myself, only that myself is not what it was. And that’s good. We all change, don’t we? Neither of you are exactly the same as who you used to be, are you?”

That was true. If Cinder from a year ago met herself now, she would not recognise herself. Sunset herself had changed. And yet, this latest change, the one that they were asked to excuse, was so very sudden that it was giving Cinder whiplash. And where had it come from, unbidden and unhinted at? No, this explanation carried no water.

“Please,” Sunset urged. “My friends. Trust me, as you have before. Trust me, out of the memory of the many good and wonderful times that we have shared together.”

Cinder laughed. “Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?” she said, ignoring the way in which Cardin’s eyes were bulging like they were about to pop out of his head – either because of Cinder’s volte-face or else because he literally couldn’t think of any times he’d shared with Sunset that didn’t involve her making his life difficult. Cinder gave him no sign and spoke him no word and only hoped that he was smart enough not to give the game away before the trap sprang shut. She knelt down in front of Sunset. “Forgive me,” she begged. “I should have had more faith in you. Suspicion of my new girlfriend looks very ill on me, I concede.”

“You were only looking out for me,” Sunset said. “It’s fine. I forgive you. I forgive you everything.”

“I know,” Cinder replied. “Just as you always do.” She smiled. “Just as you forgave me for murdering Pyrrha in the Amity Colisseum.”

Sunset shrugged. “It wasn’t very nice of you, but you had your reasons.”

“I thought so,” Cinder agreed. “Except, of course-” Her hand shot out to grab whatever this thing impersonating Sunset was by the neck. She began to squeeze as she hoisted it up into the air, turned, and slammed this impostor into the nearest wall. “That never happened, and Sunset would never, never have forgiven me for it if it had!” Cinder leaned forwards, snorting licks of flame out of her nostrils to tickle this false Sunset’s face. “So you are going to tell me who you are and what you’ve done with the real Sunset, or I will slit you open from stem and stern and seek the answer amongst your entrails.”

“Let her go,” Princess Celestia demanded, cold fury in her voice.

Cinder glanced towards the doorway. She could see Princess Celestia there, and she could also see the numerous royal guards who were crowding into the room, passing through the door to stand between their princess and danger – and also to begin surrounding Cinder and Cardin.

The beating of wings alerted her to the pegasi dropping down onto the balcony from above.

Cinder did not release the false Sunset. Instead, with her free hand, she pointed towards Princess Celestia. “I do not know what that is,” she declared, “but I swear to you that she is not your princess.”

The faces of the royal guard were hard and grim and did not react to Cinder’s words. Of course they didn’t. This was Princess Celestia, whom they had pledged to serve, who had ruled over them since before their grandparents were children, who was celebrated throughout the land for the goodness of her rule. She wielded absolute power, and unlike any mortal ruler, she did so while being immune to the temptations of the same. She was loving and beloved, and she was their princess. Of course they would obey her, and of course they would not be thrown off by the words of some dragon, a guest in the palace, unknown to them.

It was, she had to admit, a very clever plan: replace the leader of the realm, and all the levers of power would fall into your hands – or hooves – like so many ripe plums.

And Equestria taken without a shot fired.

And they replaced Sunset because Sunset would have worked it out, and they feared an alicorn would have the power to stop them.

That did not bode well for Princess Twilight Sparkle, but hopefully, their power – whoever they were – had not yet radiated out from Canterlot. After all, Celestia and Sunset could not have been replaced except very recently. With good fortune, there would yet be time.

Provided she could get out of here to get a message to them.

“Cinder,” Cardin murmured. “Do what you have to do.”

Cinder tried to keep her eyes from widening. “Cardin-”

“That’s an order,” Cardin growled.

“I see,” Cinder said softly. “Then I hope we meet again.”

“Enough of this!” snapped the false Princess Celestia. “Take them!”

The guards began to move in. Cinder roared in anger as she hurled the false Sunset at them, the impostor wearing Sunset’s likeness flying into their armoured ranks like a bowling ball, knocking over ponies and scattering their mass as the centre of their formation tumbled backwards in a heap.

Cardin was on them before they could recover, his hooves thundering as he charged forward, bellowing at the top of his voice. He was bigger than any pony who wore the armour of the royal guard, their heads only coming up to his shoulders, and what he lacked in experience in his pony form, he made up for in sheer size and strength. He crashed into them, bodily bearing them backwards, knocking them down and sending them flying across the floor. He had no armour, but he was strong enough to put dents in their cuirasses as he lashed out in all directions with his hooves, rearing up in the air to kick wildly with his forehooves at anypony who came close.

Goodbye, Cardin Winchester. Cinder turned away, towards the window. There were still the pegasi to deal with, but with the unicorns who had come in the other way completely occupied dealing with Cardin, Cinder could approach them without any worries about her rear.

The pegasi flew towards her, and Cinder ran to meet them, arms out, claws bared. She wasn’t aiming to kill any of them – they were only doing their jobs, serving whom they believed to be the rightful princess of their kingdom – but it would do her no harm if they thought that she was a bloodthirsty dragon who wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all and not lose a wink of sleep over it.

And to help with that impression, and because she could, she opened her mouth and breathed out a great gust of flame, fire erupting out of her throat in a plume that made those pegasi scatter before her, breaking off to avoid getting their feathers singed – or worse. They scattered, and so made way for Cinder, who reached the balcony.

She jumped up onto the railing, took a look down at the drop below, spread her wings, and leapt.

Unfortunately, she’d never learnt to fly with wings.

Cinder flapped her leathery appendages as hard as she could, and yet, she did not fly. She kept on flapping, to no effect. No air would catch beneath her wings, no thrust would come. Only the ground was coming, faster and faster, closer and closer.

Cinder shouted, and as she shouted, she roared out fire from her mouth. This was how she had flown when she had been half a Maiden, this was a technique she knew: use the fire to create counterforce that would propel you in the opposite direction, either up or across.

Hopefully the same principle held here in Equestria.

Well, sort of; it did not make her fly, but it did at least slow her descent so that when she landed – twisting her body in the air so that she landed on her feet, albeit not looking nearly as cool as she would have liked – it only made her ankles wince a little instead of breaking her bones.

“There she is!”

“Get her!”

Cinder looked around. She had landed in a plaza of stone, with a stage set for some kind of show erected at the far end. Ponies – and no other creatures – were milling around, and many of them were turning to look at Cinder with fear and alarm in their eyes and on their faces.

Cinder ignored them, more interested in the geography than the population. Where could she go? The bridge! There was a bridge at the western end of the plaza, and Cinder raced towards it, her legs pounding.

Everypony got out of her way. That was wise of them, and Cinder was glad of their wisdom. No have-a-go hero tried to stop her, no brave and virtuous citizen tried to assist the guards; they leapt aside and cleared a path for her.

No doubt, they expected a hero to be along at any moment to deal with this.

In normal circumstances, they doubtless would have been right.

It wasn’t a good idea for ordinary people to step into these kinds of situations when they didn’t have to.

Cinder gained the bridge only for more guards to drop from the sky in front of her. She looked behind her to see other guards closing in from behind.

But beneath her… beneath her, a river flowed rapidly on beneath – towards a waterfall.

Cinder grinned. I wonder how many stories of escape they tell in Equestria?

She jumped off the bridge and landed in the cool blue water beneath.

It was very cold against her scales. Cinder’s whole body was shivering and shaking as she breached the surface, gasping for breath as the waters bore her swiftly and inexorably on. As she was swept away, Cinder looked back to see the pony guards lining the bridge from which she’d jumped, but none of them followed her. They stood upon the bridge and watched as she was carried to the waterfall.

And then she lost sight of them as she dropped, falling down and down and down until-

SPLASH!

Cinder hit the surface of the lake beneath so hard it felt as though her ruby scales would crack.

She lay underwater for a while, holding her breath, the inner fire battling with the cold of the water to determine whether she would freeze or not, waiting for the moment when it would be safe to emerge without attracting attention.

It was growing dark by the time that she crawled out of the water, gasping for breath.

It was growing dark, and that gave Cinder pause as she lay on the grass by the side of the lake. If Princess Celestia controlled the sun, and the sun was setting, then how was the sun setting? Had who or whatever had taken her also taken her power over the sun? Or was Cinder mistaken?

No, that was not Sunset. In that, at least, I am not mistaken.

It was fully night by the time she arrived at Ponyville, the moon shining brightly on the little village as Cinder crept stealthily towards the crystalline Castle of Friendship.

She approached from behind, and so was in a position to spot Starlight Glimmer and Trixie, hiding in the lee of Trixie’s wagon.

Starlight looked concerned – which was itself concerning to Cinder – but Trixie was having a full on panic attack, her breathing coming in rapid, gasping breaths, her eyes wide, her pupils tiny by comparison.

“I can’t deal with this!” she wailed. “I’m just a performer! This is… this is princess level stuff! But the changelings have all the princesses! We’re doomed!” She laid her head down on the floor and covered her eyes with her hooves as her whole body trembled in fright.

Starlight bit her lip, then attempted to put on a brave face moments before putting a brave face on things. “Maybe not,” she suggested, patting Trixie on the flank. “Uh… Sunset Shimmer is supposed to be a great fighter, maybe she can-”

“They got Sunset,” Cinder growled, emerging from her concealment. “I had come here hoping to get help from Princess Twilight, but I gather that they’ve got her as well.”

Starlight closed her eyes. “Yes. Princess Twilight and all of her friends have been abducted and replaced by changelings.” She opened her eyes again, and looked at Cinder. “And they also have Celestia and Luna too, don’t they?”

“I cannot speak for Princess Luna, but I am prepared to say that, yes, Princess Celestia is taken also,” Cinder said. “What are changelings?”

“Basically, they feed off love and can take on the appearance of other ponies,” Starlight said quickly. “Okay, so they have Sunset Shimmer as well, but maybe Princess Cadance is still safe. If we can get to the Crystal Empire before the changelings do-”

“There’s no help coming from the Crystal Empire,” declared a melancholy voice, as a creature previously unknown to Cinder stepped out of a bush.

It – he, judging by the voice – looked like a cross between a pony and an insect; he had four legs, a pony-shaped body, a roughly equine head with a little horn emerging out of his forehead, and a pair of gleaming gossamer wings attached to his back. But his body was also covered in black carapace; in fact, his entire body was black, like a beetle, and his eyes had neither whites nor pupils, just a solid aquamarine colour. A pair of fangs emerged from out of his mouth, and his black legs had holes in them as though someone had been using him for target practice.

Whoever or whatever he was, his appearance sent Trixie back into a panic; she shrieked in alarm and backed up against the side of her wagon, rearing up and kicking her forehooves at the empty air.

Starlight’s horn flared turquoise as she conjured up a shield around Trixie, muffling her cries as well as giving the other unicorn something to pound against.

“This is a changeling,” she explained to Cinder. “But he’s on our side,” she added quickly. “This is Thorax… although your wings look a little different.”

Thorax glanced back at his own wings. “I guess they do?”

“Possibly because you aren’t actually this Thorax,” Cinder growled.

“No, it’s me!” Thorax protested. “Starlight, you were there when Spike defended me to the ponies of the Crystal Empire. Princess Twilight said–” Thorax’s whole body was engulfed in aquamarine flame which leapt upwards and then passed in a moment, leaving behind a perfect replica of Princess Twilight Sparkle. Thorax, in this guise, placed a hoof upon his heart and said, in Princess Twilight’s voice, “'As the Princess of Friendship, I should set an example to all of Equestria, but today, it was Spike who taught me-'”

“Okay!” Starlight cried, holding up one hoof to forestall any more. “Okay, I believe you. We don’t need the whole speech.”

“I don’t know, that sounded as if it might be rather inspiring,” Cinder said. “But this is Thorax, and Thorax is on our side.”

“Right,” Starlight said as Thorax changed back into what seemed to be his normal appearance. “Thorax is a reformed changeling.” She looked at Trixie. “He’s one of the good guys now, understand?”

Trixie had calmed down enough to nod silently, although she still collapsed in a heap on the ground when Starlight dispelled the shield.

Nor was she particularly interested in taking Thorax’s hoof when he offered it.

“Thorax,” Starlight said, “what did you mean that there was no help coming from the Crystal Empire? Did the changelings get Princess Cadance, too?”

Thorax’s ears drooped. “Princess Cadance, Shining Armor, and Flurry Heart. Sunburst sent me to get help-”

“How did this Sunburst know?” Cinder demanded. “The changeling that replaced Princess Celestia tried to have me arrested for realising there was something wrong.”

Thorax bowed his head. “That makes sense. They threw Sunburst into the dungeons; I only got out by changing my appearance to fool the guards. But before they got him, Sunburst told me I had to get help from Princess Twilight, but it sounds like it’s too late for that too. So what shall we do?”

“Yeah, Starlight,” Trixie said, grabbing her by both forehooves. “What are we going to do?”

Starlight glanced from Thorax to Trixie. “I… I don’t know! Cinder! You’ve led in the world you come from-”

“The what now?” Thorax said.

“Right,” Starlight said. “Thorax, this is Cinder, she comes from another world, where she is a leader-”

“I was a leader,” Cinder corrected her. “Of sorts. And that was in another world, I don’t know this place.” Not to mention the death toll associated with my ‘leadership.’ “You’re Princess Twilight’s student!”

“Yes, I’m a student!” Starlight cried. “Because I’m still learning! There must be somepony else who can deal with this!”

“There is nopony else,” Trixie insisted. “Everypony else with powerful magic has already gone!”

“You know, whenever ponies talk about powerful magic, they always seem to leave me out,” declared a smooth, urbane, older male-sounding voice. “If I weren’t so evolved, I might decide to take it personally.”

Perched atop Trixie’s wagon was the most bizarre creature that Cinder had ever set eyes upon. His head was… well, it possibly resembled a long-necked horse, although it bore so little resemblance to the ponies that surrounded her that it took Cinder a moment to make that connection, and was a muddy green in colour with a short black mane, and one deer antler and one crooked goat’s horn emerging from out of his head, while a single fang dropped down from his upper lip. His body was serpentine, being mostly brown except for his tail, with his scaly and red. He had the right arm of a lion, the left claw of an eagle, the right leg of a lizard, and the left leg of a goat, not to mention one pegasus wing and one bat wing, which looked far too small for his body.

And he was knitting. Knitting some sort of bunny rabbit, what was more.

He turned his yellow eyes, which were of uneven size and topped with a pair of bushy white eyebrows, upon them. “Well, isn’t this quite the combination of secondary characters.” He looked at Cinder. “And a crossover, apparently.” He frowned at his knitting for a moment. “Where are Twilight and the girls?”

“Why don’t you tell us who you are, first,” Cinder suggested.

The strange creature looked at her with boredom in his yellow eyes. He raised his eagle claw and snapped it.

Cinder was momentarily bathed in light, and when the light receded… she was human again, Cinder Fall just as she was in Remnant, and no dragon at all.

Cinder’s eyes widened as she looked down at her distinctly human hands. “H-how-?”

“I’m Discord,” he said languidly, leaning back to lie down upon the top of Trixie’s wagon. “Lord of Chaos, warper of the fabric of reality, spreader of excitement and joy through otherwise boring existences. I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, Cinder Fall, but-” He snapped his claw a second time, and Cinder was a dragon once again. “-I’m afraid you’re not interesting enough for meeting you to be pleasant.”

Cinder stared at him. Lord of Chaos? Warper of reality? Someone who could change her from one shape to another with a snap of his claw?

She had never felt so naked in her life. Not even when she had stood before Salem had she felt so vulnerable. Such power at his command, and nothing she could do about it. No matter what she did, no matter what she thought, she was defenceless against this power. He could do whatever he liked to her, and she would have to endure it.

That was what Cinder had striven half her life against, ever since she had escaped the house of her stepmother; she had fought never to be in a position where she was so powerless that another could do to her or with her as they would and she had no recourse but to roll over and take it.

And that was where she stood now, against the power of Discord. A power so great she dared not even show how much she hated this.

Starlight seemed to be beyond such concerns, which Cinder thought was either very brave of her or rather naïve. “Discord!” she cried. “We could really use your help right now. Chrysalis and the changelings are back! They’ve ponynapped all of the most powerful ponies in Equestria: Celestia, Luna, Cadance, Shining Armor, Flurry Heart, Twilight and her friends-”

Discord had been yawning as Starlight had rattled off her list, but when it came to Twilight and her friends, he stopped. All trace of boredom left his face, and as his long neck descended downwards towards Starlight, forcing her to give ground before him, his red pupils began to glow with an angry flame. His voice, when it came, was hard and sharp, all humour and playfulness flying from it. “They took Fluttershy?”

Cinder found herself taking a step back. The power at his command alone had told her this was not a being to be trifled with, and now, the voice confirmed it.

“Yes,” Starlight replied.

“Where?” Discord demanded.

“They’ll all have been imprisoned in the Changeling Kingdom,” Thorax said.

Starlight grinned in anticipation. “With you on our side, we-”

Discord didn’t give her the chance to finish. He snapped his claw again, and this time, the light was so blinding that Cinder had to close her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, it was daylight once more, and she stood somewhere completely different from where she had been a moment ago. Teleportation, obviously; of Sunset’s powers, that she was perhaps the most jealous of.

Except she thought that they had been teleported a good deal further than Sunset could have managed. Gone was the Castle of Friendship, gone was Ponyville, gone was everything. In its place, they stood at the edge of some woodland, the trees giving way to empty grass with a few rocks of dull brown colour dotted here and there.

The locale was not all that had changed. Starlight and Trixie – who, along with Thorax, were looking around their new surroundings – were loaded down with camping gear upon their backs; Discord also wore a pack, and a blue scarf wrapped around his neck. Only Thorax was completely unencumbered, because Cinder had been clad in a suit of armour of glimmering obsidian, the volcanic glass reflecting back the light of the now-risen sun. It formed a cuirass upon her chest, attached to a black gambeson of softer and more supple material which covered her body up to the neck and down to the tail. Obsidian pauldrons covered her shoulders, and vambraces her wrists and forearms. Her knees and feet were likewise protected, though her thighs and ankles were not, and at the back of her tail, obsidian spikes protruded out from a black sock that covered her scales.

She had been made a black knight, off to the rescue of her sun-kissed maid. The only thing she lacked was a weapon.

“Odd,” Discord observed, picking up a rock with his leonine hand and looking underneath it. “I was trying to take us right to Fluttershy, but there is no Fluttershy.” His eyes extended out of his head like disgusting yellow worms and began to swish about on the ground like Sunset’s tail when she was agitated.

Trixie squeaked in alarm. “I think I have a pretty good idea where she might be,” she whimpered, her whole body trembling, even the forehoof that she was using to point.

All eyes turned that way, and all eyes fell upon the blasted waste that began just a few feet beyond them, as the ground fell away into a steep drop and all grass and flowers and living things died away. Before them lay a great bowl basin, made up of nothing more than barren rock and dead soil, rising and falling in mounds that resembled nothing more than so many layers of jagged teeth, as though the land itself was a living monster waiting to swallow up unwary travellers.

And in the centre of the basin, in the centre of the jaws, a great castle of dark stone arose out of the earth. Literally, it seemed not so much to have been built as to have grown organically out of the earth, twisting and turning as it went, forming rough spires and uneven protuberances, everything pointing upwards like so many crooked fingers, culminating in the tallest spire of all which bent first this way and then the other, almost zigzagging its way upwards towards the clouds. The fortress was filled with holes, just like Thorax’s legs, and Cinder wondered how it was that so fragile a structure did not collapse beneath its own weight.

And all around the highest spires, the changelings buzzed. They could scarcely be seen: black dots against a sickly yellow sky, but their buzzing could be heard all this way away where Cinder and the others stood.

“I’d hoped to never see that place again,” moaned Thorax as he came to stand beside Trixie. “Now what?” he asked, looking at Starlight.

Trixie also looked at Starlight. So too, a moment later, did Discord.

Starlight bit her lip, her whole body tensing.

And she said nothing as the fear took hold of them.

Cinder recognised it in her eyes. She recognised it in Starlight’s whole body language. She recognised it in Trixie and Thorax also. If this had been Remnant, their anxiety would have already begun to draw the grimm.

“Now, we do what we came here to do,” Cinder declared harshly. “Now, we do what we must. Now, we do whatever it takes.” She paused for a moment. “Trixie, Thorax, Starlight, is this your first time in this kind of danger?”

“I was part of the attack on Canterlot,” Thorax offered. “But I didn’t really do anything… and we lost. And that’s a good thing!” he added quickly, lest anyone get the wrong ideas about his loyalty.

“Trixie tried to stop an ursa major once,” Trixie volunteered. “And I failed.”

Not exactly Team SAPR, is it? Cinder thought to herself. Still, we must do what we can with what we have. “So you are green then, and inexperienced. But so was every adventurer, every hero that has ever been. Princess Twilight and her friends once stood where you stand now, on the cusp of their first adventure, their first battle, their first plunge into a world of peril and risk. Yet they took that step, and they triumphed, as we will triumph here today.

“I do not tell you that it will be easy,” Cinder went on. “You know better than I the nature of this foe, but I have eyes and ears, and I can tell that they are fierce and numerous. Our path to victory will be a difficult one. But it is a path that we can and we will navigate successfully.

“I know that this is not the first time the changelings have attempted to assault your kingdom. Equestria has beaten them in the past, and Equestria will defeat them again. They do not know that we are here, they do not even know that we are coming; as far as they know, I am at the bottom of a lake, and you are unaware that anything is amiss in Equestria. Surprise is on our side. Magic is on our side. A warper of reality is on our side. I am on your side, and my fire is hot!

“You know the odds that are at stake. They have taken your princesses, they have taken your friends, they have taken my Sunset! Victory means that we shall rescue all those who are dear to us, expose the impostors masquerading as them, and save all of Equestria for another day. Defeat means that all of Equestria shall pass into the rule of the changelings, and those we love the most shall languish in their dread captivity.

“I do not mean to let that happen. And so I say to you all, I beg of you all, remember who you are. Remember what you are. Trust your gifts, and we will bring our loved ones home again safe and sound.”

Starlight took a deep breath. She looked more comfortable already. “Of course. We can do this. We have to do this.” She looked at Cinder. “So, what’s the plan?”

Cinder blinked. “'The plan'?”

“You gave the big speech,” Starlight pointed out. “You have some idea of how we can make it happen, right?”

“I… yes,” Cinder lied. “Yes, of course I know what to do, I know precisely what to do; we…” Her eyes alighted upon Discord. Well, of course, easy when you think about it for a second. “We are going to use him.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Trixie muttered.

“What else could we possibly need?” Discord asked, in a tone of amused hauteur.

“You see, the thing is-” Thorax began.

“Detailed plans are for the weak,” Cinder explained. “When you have power, you should use that power as quickly as you can, as hard as you can, before the enemy can mount a response or a countermeasure.” She had had to sneak around Beacon because she lacked the power to bring down the Emerald Tower, or to overcome General Ironwood’s ships and armies; if she had had Ironwood’s power at her command, she would have fallen upon Beacon from the air with the utmost despatch, levelled the school and combed the ruins for the relic. “Discord, you can do… whatever you like, can’t you?”

Discord looked insufferably. “Anything at all.”

“Except that-” Thorax started.

“Although I am a little surprised that we ended up here when I meant for us to end up over there, with Fluttershy,” Discord added.

“I can explain that,” Thorax said.

“Teleportation is a difficult thing, I’m told,” Cinder assured him. “Nevertheless, you have the power that we need, and our enemies currently do not know that we’re here, so you should use your power before they realise your presence and respond.” And besides, the more swiftly we get this done, the quicker we can part ways, and I don’t have to worry about what you might do to me next.

“That… makes some sense,” Starlight conceded.

“Except-”

“Quite so,” Discord said. “Thank you, Cinder, it’s so nice to have my talents recognised. Something that is unfortunately rare around here,” he added, with a glance at Trixie. He snapped his leonine fingers, and a large, rotund pig with wings that looked far too small to be enabling it to fly as it was appeared underneath him, with Discord mounted atop it and holding a lance like some sort of parody of a knight. “Tally ho! For Fluttershy!” he declared, and the pig soared forwards – only for pig and lance alike to disappear as soon as they passed over the ledge. Discord hung, suspended in the air for a moment, before he plunged downwards, and only just managed to grab the ledge in time to prevent himself from falling.

Cinder offered him a hand up as she, Trixie, and Starlight approached the ledge, but Discord didn’t take it as he scrambled up onto the bank all by himself.

“What happened?” Starlight asked.

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Thorax cried. “Chrysalis’ throne is made of an ancient black stone that soaks up outside magic the same way that changelings soak up love. It’s how she protects the hive from attack: only changelings can use our magic here.”

Cinder took a deep breath, and blew a jet of white hot flame out of her mouth and off the ledge, only to watch the fire fizzle and die out the moment it crossed the invisible threshold, as only a few wisps of smoke drifted up into the air.

“This gets better and better, doesn’t it?” Cinder muttered.

“So, Starlight,” Trixie said. “What kind of plan were you thinking of?”

“I don’t know!” Starlight exclaimed. “Without magic, I have no idea. But nopony else is coming, so somepony better come up with something.”

No one said anything, not even Cinder – although she hoped that she didn’t look as completely clueless as Thorax and Trixie as they both looked at Starlight as though the very idea that they might have a plan was absurd.

“Anypony?” Starlight asked, more in desperation than in hope. She waited for a moment, only to be greeted by the same silence as before. “Anything?” She looked at Cinder. “Cinder, you brought down a kingdom in the world you came from.”

“First of all, that didn’t work,” Cinder admitted. “Second of all, to the extent that it did work, it took months of preparation, a greater degree of knowledge of… everything about the area and situation than I possess here, and the assistance of an insider to get me undercover – so I suppose you could say that it also required me to be able to go undercover and not be spotted immediately; oh, and it also cost a thousand lives, so I think it’s fair to say that we do not have the time, the resources, or the disposable warm bodies to follow in my footsteps.”

“Well, I’m sorry for thinking that you might be able to help in this situation!” Starlight snapped.

“I’m sorry too, I just… I’m-”

“We’re all worried,” Starlight said, her voice softening. “We’re all worried, and we all care. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

Cinder wasn’t entirely convinced by that, but she believed that Starlight believed it, and she believed that it was true of Starlight. We have enemies enough amongst the changelings without rowing with one another.

Okay. Think. What would Sunset do?

No. What will I do?

Probably the same thing she’d do. Something stupid.

“Thorax,” Cinder said, “if I challenge Chrysalis to single combat, will she accept?”

“What?” Starlight demanded.

“If I can beat her, then I can force her to release Sunset and the others,” Cinder explained.

“That’s a big ‘if,’ don’t you think?” Starlight asked.

“Perhaps I’m confident in my abilities.”

“I’m not confident in risking everything on a throw of the dice like that!” Starlight said.

“Besides, Chrysalis wouldn’t do something like that,” Thorax said. “Not unless she was absolutely certain she could win. She’d just have the hive swarm you.”

“So she is a coward,” Cinder spat.

“Coward or not, we need a better idea,” Starlight said. “Were you serious?”

“It is the old way,” Cinder declared.

“They call it the old way because it’s old, and nobody does it like that any more,” Thorax muttered.

Starlight sighed. “If the throne is what is preventing us from using our magic, will we get our magic back if we destroy it?”

“Uh huh,” Thorax said, nodding emphatically.

“Then that’s what we do,” Starlight declared. “Get into the hive, destroy the throne, free our friends.”

“Well, that’s a terrible idea,” Discord said. “How are we even supposed to get into the hive?”

“We walk?” Trixie suggested, in a voice laced with sarcasm, as she and Starlight slid down the barren slope to the wastes that surrounded the hive. Thorax followed swiftly after, leaving Cinder and Discord stood upon the grassy verge.

Discord groaned. “I haven’t walked that far in a millenia.”

“Would you like me to carry you?” Cinder asked.

Discord gave her a rather dirty look, which prompted Cinder to take a step back, fearful of what he might do to her while they were still in this place where he might do anything he wished to her, but all that he did was turn away and pick his way, with the greatest care, down the slope after the others.

Cinder decided that it might be better for her dignity if, instead of scrambling down, she just leapt down instead, keeping her useless wings tucked in at her sides as she took a run at the verge, flying off the grass and over the bare rock below.

She plummeted like a stone but managed to pull off the landing with knees bent and one fist touching the ground. It was a pity Sunset wasn’t around to see it.

It was also something of a pity that she landed so heavily upon the ground that the shockwave knocked Discord off his feet.

“Sorry about that,” Cinder murmured idly, although truth to tell, she was not nearly as sorry as she would have been if he had been in a position to do anything in response to her. Here, while she had lost the draconic abilities that she had acquired on entering Equestria, that had only brought her back to the state to which she had been reduced when she gave away the Fall Maiden powers to Sunset.

The state at which I became completely useless and unable to contribute to anything.

Well… let’s not think too hard about that.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she approached Discord. Robbed of his powers, he seemed – he was – a good deal less fearsome. It was ironic; he had been stripped of all his ability to aid them, deprived of the power that would have given them swift victory otherwise, but at the same time, Cinder was glad of the fact. She would rather find another way to triumph and be protected from him for a little while.

While she was protected from him, she once again offered him a hand up.

“Hmph,” Discord said, as he accepted. “You could have just climbed down like the rest of us.”

“I’d rather leap than risk a fall,” Cinder explained. “Much less demeaning that way.” She paused for a moment. “May I ask you something?”

“This hardly seems like the moment for chit-chat,” Discord replied.

“Do you have anything better to do while we walk?” Cinder asked as they both began to follow Starlight, Trixie, and Thorax.

“I suppose not,” Discord grumbled. “Although I must warn you, I’ve never been particularly interested in crossovers.”

“You’ve said that before, and I still don’t know what it means.”

“Crossing over, from another world?” Discord said.

“Ah,” Cinder said. “Yes, of course.” She wasn’t sure that was what he meant, but she couldn’t have said why. She supposed that it wasn’t particularly important. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“Why am I here?” Discord repeated. “What do you mean, why am I here? I’m here for Fluttershy!”

“But why?” Cinder pressed. “You can – or at least you could, when we were not in the presence of this black stone – bend the very fabric of reality to your whim. Your power is terrifying.”

“'Terrifying'?” Discord asked. “It’s been some time since anyone last called me terrifying.”

“Do you miss it?” Cinder asked.

“No,” Discord said.

Cinder reserved judgement on whether to believe him or not. “The most powerful being in my world cannot do half of what you can do. From the shadows, Salem holds all of Remnant in terror, and yet, you could destroy her with a snap of your fingers.”

“Perhaps I could,” Discord said idly. “But what fun would it be if I did?” He smiled. “You see, Cinder Fall, I’m not a tame draconequus; I don’t go around solving other people’s problems just because I could.”

“And yet, here you are,” Cinder pointed out. “Ready to solve this problem.”

“And that surprises you?” Discord asks.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you’re unwilling to solve our problems in Remnant,” Cinder said. “Why should a being of your power concern yourself with the doings of the ants? But, having all the power that you have, why would you-?”

“Why did you give up your power?” Discord asked. “If not because some people are worth it?”

Cinder stared at him. “It’s that simple?”

“Not everything has to be complicated,” Discord replied.

Cinder snorted. “No,” she agreed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She paused. “Thank you for the armour.”

“It seemed appropriate,” Discord said.

“It’s something of a pity that you didn’t give me a weapon as well,” Cinder said. “It seems that, for all that we say they are not magic, my semblance is sufficiently magical that it doesn’t work here.” The same could be said of her aura, which she could no longer feel; the fact that she was a dragon meant that she didn’t feel as weak as she ordinarily would have without her aura, but any injuries that she sustained would affect her far more than they would have done had her protective shield been in place.

Which was why it was a good thing she had the armour, wasn’t it?

Still, as they made their way across the barren waste, with the changeling hive growing ever closer to them as they walked, Cinder found herself thinking more upon this ancient dark stone that absorbed magic – and apparently semblances and aura too. Such a stone could be of great use – yes, they had to destroy Chrysalis’ throne to save their friends, but that in itself could be useful by breaking it down into smaller chunks, which could be carried across worlds, say.

Except, of course, that they would not only nullify the enemy’s magic, but theirs as well – including the magic used to travel between worlds.

And yet it didn’t feel right not to at least try. They ought to be able to get some sort of advantage from it, surely?

She continued to ponder the matter as they crossed the wastes. Time passed, the sun beat down upon them, and the silence amongst the rescue party was broken by Discord complaining.

“Oh, my feet. I don’t know how any of you manage not being able to disappear and reappear whenever you want.”

“I certainly miss you being able to disappear,” Trixie growled.

“Give Discord a break,” Starlight said. “Nopony knew that we weren’t going to be able to use magic.”

“I did,” Thorax said.

“Nobody likes the person who says ‘I told you so,’ Thorax,” Cinder said.

Starlight halted. “Before we get in there, it might make sense to have a way to make sure we are who we say we are, in case we get separated.”

“Oh, like a secret code!” Discord exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. He began to pace up and down. “How about if I say ‘we’re’ and you say ‘doomed’? Or you say ‘rescue’ and I say-” What he said was an alarmed squawk as he tripped over a rock and landed flat on his face with a thump.

Trixie smirked. “How about you say ‘klutzy’ and we say ‘draconequus’?”

“Klutzy draconequus,” Starlight repeated. “Works for me.”

“I’ll definitely remember it,” Thorax said.

You’re a bit of a brown-noser, aren’t you? Cinder thought. “Very well,” she said softly, before for the third time offering Discord – who was lying on the ground looking rather disgruntled at having been made the butt of the joke – a hand up.

“We are stronger than we look,” Cinder told him. “You should have more hope.”

Discord got up by himself, without any assistance from her, and dusted down his body with his hands. “How?” he asked. “How are we stronger?”

“Because we dare,” Cinder declared. “We dare the odds, we dare the robbery of all our power, we dare capture, we dare all things – and all things worthwhile begin with daring. Because we dare, we yet may change the world, even without your magic.”

Discord regarded her warily. “Does that blind optimism always work out for you?”

“I’m not dead yet,” Cinder said.

“That isn’t particularly reassuring,” Discord muttered.

Cinder smirked at him, and then turned away as they all resumed their journey towards the hive.

The changeling hive, when they finally reached it, having traversed all the open wastes that surrounded it, was almost laughably undefended from the ground. Two sentries, wearing dark blue chitinous armour, complete with helmets incorporating what looked like the pincers of certain types of beetle, stood before an incomplete archway of green stone, like two horns emerging out of the ground, that preceded a kind of pathway – marked by more eruptions of stone – leading to the main entrance into the hive itself. And yet, the group circumvented those two sentries easily, approaching from a different angle and, by means of creeping through the rocky outcroppings that formed the immediate surroundings of the hive, were able to get behind them unnoticed.

There were no other sentinels, and no patrols either, and although most of the ground that they had crossed was open, devoid of any features that would have concealed them, the changelings swarming about the pinnacle of the hive had not seen them, or not given the alarm if they had.

It was all just a little too easy for Cinder’s liking; she wondered if this was how Sunset had felt, leading her team into Mountain Glenn.

At least there, I made sure to throw some little obstacles into her path, to make them feel like they were accomplishing something.

Thorax got their attention with a silent tap on Starlight’s shoulder, gesturing wordlessly to a hole set a few feet up in the wall of the hive. He flew in, his gossamer wings fluttering silently as he disappeared into the darkness.

Cinder was the next to follow, her legs easily allowing her to make the leap as she scrambled up into the hive itself. The home of the changelings was a place of blue-grey rock, where lanterns of a sickly green, shaped like cocoons, shone dimly to drive away the darkness; the earth looked as though it had grown rather than been shaped, with rough and sometimes jagged edges, random sharp outcroppings, hollows that led nowhere, and gaps between ledges that you would have to leap across or down to get to.

And it was moving, holes in the walls opening and closing almost at random, corridors being sealed off at the same rate that new ones opened up before her.

“Okay, I am definitely glad you came,” Trixie said, as she and Starlight used Discord’s long, serpentine body as a ramp up to the raised hole in the wall. “I don’t think we’d be able to find our way without you.”

“You definitely wouldn’t,” Thorax said, in that tone of voice that Cinder was really starting to dislike.

Discord was the last one up, scrambling inside just before the hole in the wall closed up behind them with an audible groaning of the rock.

Trixie let out a squeak of alarm. “Uh, where’s the way out?”

“This is a changeling hive,” Thorax explained, as though they would never have guessed otherwise. “It shifts and changes just like we do. It’s total chaos to non-changelings.”

“Easy in but not easily out,” Cinder murmured.

“You think that walk was easy?” Discord asked.

Cinder ignored that. “There is an impressive concern for security at work here,” she declared. “You could lead an army here, and not only would they arrive tired and absent any powers they might possess, but they would also struggle to navigate this shifting labyrinth… and yet, the same concern doesn’t apply to guards? Is it normal to only have two sentries guarding only the most obvious way in?”

“It is a little odd,” Thorax admitted. “Pharynx usually takes patrolling really seriously.”

“Maybe they’ve let their guard down, seeing as they’ve pretty much won everything,” Starlight suggested. “Anyway, we haven’t been ambushed yet, so there’s no point standing around speculating over whether or not this is a trap. Thorax, lead the way.”

Thorax did, in fact, lead the way, leading them through the maze of shifting corridors, up the staircases that sometimes grew before them and sometimes collapsed behind them. At times they had to dive through doors that were about to close; other times, they were too slow for that and had to wait for them to open again, or else take what felt to Cinder like a much longer detour.

They saw no one. They heard no one. There was no sound but their own footfalls, echoing in the empty corridors, or in the even emptier vast, cavernous hallways which they sometimes had to cross, yet even in those open spaces, tall and wide, there was no sign of any changeling.

It was making Cinder’s hands itch, as her sense of a trap grew moment by moment, and yet, what could they do but keep walking into it and hope they were strong enough to fight their way out when the moment came?

She did not like this place. It was too dark; it was at once too big and too small, too cramped and too vast; it was too underground; it was too empty. She didn’t like the moving rock, she didn’t like the eerie lanterns in that wretched colour, she didn’t like their guide, she didn’t like the sense that a hostile will was shepherding them further and further in before the jaws – like those on the helmets of the sentries outside – snapped shut.

This is definitely how Sunset felt in Mountain Glenn.

I owe her an apology for that.

“Are we sure I’ll get my magic back once we destroy this throne?” Discord asked as they descended one set of stairs only to climb up another.

“If Thorax is right, then yes,” Starlight replied.

“That’s reassuring,” Discord muttered.

“And how are we supposed to destroy the throne when we find it?” Trixie asked.

“I… don’t know,” Starlight admitted.

“That’s reassuring,” Trixie muttered.

Cinder sighed. “Wait a moment,” she said, and they came to a halt upon the rocky landing at the top of the stairs. Cinder knelt down, took a breath, and then brought her hand down, claws first, into the rock. The stone fractured, giving way before her talons as Cinder dug her draconic fingers into the stone, before heaving upwards to rip a chunk of rock out of the ground.

She closed her fist, crushing the chunk of rock to splinters which fell to land with little rattles down at her feet.

“I may not be able to breathe fire, and I may not have my semblance, but it appears that the strength of a dragon is not magic,” Cinder declared. “When we reach the throne, I’ll tear it apart, piece by piece.”

Starlight sighed. “That’s a relief. At least one of us isn’t completely useless without magic. Between you and Thorax knowing where we’re going-”

“Uh, guys?” Thorax called out from up ahead. “I… think we’re lost.”

Thorax stood upon an outcropping extending out into empty air in the midst of another of the great halls that periodically dotted the changeling hive. The chasm between their outcropping and the matching one on the other side was too great to be leapt by any creature without flight, and the drop down to the bottom was so great that even Cinder would have hesitated to chance it without some means of slowing her descent.

Cinder folded her arms. “Well, that is very convenient, isn’t it?”

Thorax looked up at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know very well what it’s supposed to mean,” Cinder snarled. “‘Oh, I knew that none of you could use your magic.’ ‘Oh, I can lead you through the hive!’ Lead us all into a sack, more like.”

“Cinder, calm down,” Starlight urged. “Thorax is a reformed changeling-”

“According to him,” Cinder replied. “How do you know he hasn’t been playing the long game at his queen’s command: play the defector, ingratiate yourself, pretend to be so broken up about all the princesses and notables being captured, put yourself in the perfect position to lead a rescue party right into the heart of your oh so conveniently unguarded, oh so conveniently empty hive where a horde of your brethren are waiting to pounce on us!”

“You think I’m faking it?” Thorax demanded, hurt in his voice. “You think I fooled Spike?”

“I think good people are the easiest in the world to deceive, and some in Equestria are too good for their own best interests,” Cinder said.

“I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to!” Thorax yelled. “Do you know what it’s like to be a changeling? You have no idea! We’re always hungry! We can never get enough love! It’s like our stomachs are as big as this cavern, only there’s a hole at the bottom, and no matter how much we pour in, it all just drains out as quickly as it fills up. If I was trying to fake it, if I was trying to fool everypony, if I was around so much love and friendship for that long, then I would have drained them dry a long time ago. There’s no way I could have helped myself.”

“But you didn’t,” Starlight murmured.

Thorax took a deep breath. “No,” he said. “I… I haven’t felt hungry like that since I met Spike. Once I made friends, I stopped feeling the need to feed.”

Starlight’s eyes narrowed. “And is that the time your wings changed?”

“I guess so.”

“Hmm,” Starlight murmured. She turned her head to face Cinder. “I know that you’re on edge, I know that you want to rescue Sunset, but I trust Thorax, and so does Twilight. I was there when Spike convinced us all to accept him, and perhaps in your world, that would be a stupid thing to have done, and perhaps you think that we’re all just naive children who need to grow up and learn the way things really work, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not in your world right now; we’re in mine, and this is how we do things here!” She breathed in deeply. “On top of which, I’m feeling kind of tense and on edge right now, and it would be a big help if we could all work together instead of fighting and bickering!”

The words ‘fighting and bickering’ echoed off the cavern walls.

“Not to increase your tension or anything, but could you keep it down before any changelings hear us?” Trixie hissed.

“You say that, but I haven’t seen or heard a single changeling since we arrived,” Discord observed.

The sound of distant buzzing began to echo towards them from the direction in which they had just come.

“What's that?” Trixie moaned.

“A changeling patrol!” Thorax yelped, and he immediately began to hyper-ventilate, gasping for breath as Starlight rubbed his back in a manner that might have been reassuring had the situation been less urgent.

“You had to open your mouth, didn’t you?” Trixie snapped.

“This seems like one of those moments where we need a plan,” Discord murmured.

Cinder’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the chasm separating them from the other side of the chamber. Too great to be leapt, but perhaps…

“Thorax,” Cinder said, “catch them if need be.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry about this, Trixie,” Cinder went on as she picked up Trixie with both hands, raised her aloft and behind Cinder’s head, then threw her like a ball as hard as she could across the chasm.

Trixie shrieked in fright, her legs flailing wildly as she flew in a wide arc that carried her all the way across the cavern that divided the two outcroppings to land, with a thump and a bounce, on the other side.

Thorax, to his credit, didn’t need telling twice: he flew up, off the outcropping, hovering in the gap between the two.

And a good thing too, because Discord wasn’t so easy to throw; for all that Cinder tried by rolling him up like a doughnut ring before she tossed him, he began to unravel as soon as he was thrown, and Thorax had to grab him in mid-air to stop him falling.

Cinder could hear him complaining as Thorax awkwardly bore him across to the other side where Trixie waited.

“But what about you?” Starlight demanded.

“I’ll hold them off,” Cinder declared. “I’ll hold the whole hive off, if need be.”

“But without your strength, how are we supposed to destroy the throne?” Starlight cried.

Cinder picked her up, raising her so that they were at eye level. “Dare to do,” she said. “And tell Sunset… nothing. I’ll tell her myself; this will not be the end of me.” She had not endured so much, survived so much, only to meet her end here at the hooves of some jumped-up overgrown insects.

Starlight nodded. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Cinder grinned. “Good luck,” she said, before she drew back her arm and tossed Starlight, straight and true, across the cavern to rejoin the others.

“Now go!” Cinder yelled.

She watched them depart for a moment before she turned away.

Cinder paused for a moment, closing her eyes, letting her chest rise and fall with her breathing.

Her eyes snapped open, and she strode back through the archway.

The buzzing filled her ears, the sound flying up the corridor towards her, coming closer and closer until she could see those who made that buzzing: eight changelings, looking much like Thorax, save that they wore dark blue helmets on their heads and cuirasses about their bodies, and their wings were more insect-like than his and lacked a gleam.

Eight changelings, flying towards her.

Cinder grinned. “Hello, boys. Care to dance?”

They flew at her, heads bowed, pointing their horns towards her like knives, but they had neglected to form up before their charge: they were irregular in formation; they weren’t all going to reach her at the same time.

They came in such a way that Cinder could grab the first one, reaching out to pluck him from the air with a hand as fast as wind and hold him by the neck as she roared into his face loud enough to shake the hive around them.

Then she threw him at his comrades, knocking two of them out of the air as the first flailing changeling slammed into them, bringing them all to the ground in a tangle of legs. Cinder charged, teeth bared, wings spread out to make her seem even larger compared to these insects than she already was. They scattered before her, but not fast enough that her fist did not connect with the face of one of them and send him flying back into the darkness.

A changeling wrapped his legs around her arm, and another grabbed onto her back, wrapping her hooves around her neck, although thanks to her glittering ruby scales, she barely felt him squeezing her.

Cinder flung out arm, hammering the back of her arm – the one with the changeling wrapped around it – against the wall of the hive again and again and again until the wall of the hive was dented and cracked and the changeling dropped, limp and groaning, to the floor.

Which meant that Cinder was free to reach out behind her, pull the changeling off her back, and throw it down at her feet and stamp on it.

The changeling moaned as it lay on its side, curling up in a ball, hugging its gut.

The last two changelings fled, retreating back into the darkness out of whence they had emerged.

Cinder let them go. They would be back, no doubt, and in greater numbers – and every changeling who swarmed towards her would not be in position to stop Starlight, Discord, Trixie, and Thorax from destroying the throne and rescuing Sunset and the others.

“Is that all there is?” Cinder demanded, yelling, hearing her own voice echoed back at her off the walls. “Is that all the might of the changeling hive?”

Hear me, you changelings, hear me and come.

An idea struck her, an absurd and rather childish idea, but one that made her almost laugh with excitement.

Well, why not? One last time.

Cinder took a few steps forward, kicking a changeling out of the way who lay athwart her path, and started to sing.

“Open your eyes, you have to get up,

Monsters are coming to gobble you up.”

She was singing it a little louder than this song ought to be sung, but she was trying to draw attention to herself, after all.

“Out of bed, hide under the floor,

Monsters are breaking down the door.”

She could hear the buzzing now, the beating of changeling wings coming towards her from what seemed like every direction.

“You’ll hear the screams and then you’ll know,

Mommy and Daddy can’t help you now.”

And then they began to appear, swarming out of every hole in the walls, out of every nook and cranny, coming down from the ceiling and up the corridors, coming from all directions, blocking out all the light from the sickly green lanterns as they descended from above in great black waves.

And the buzzing of their wings was the sound of their fury.

“Close your eyes, don’t look up,

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

The changelings descended on her in a horde.

Cinder spread her arms out on either side of her. “Come on, then! Let’s see what the foes of Equestria are made of!”

They descended on her like a flood. Cinder stood her ground like a rock in the midst of the surging ocean, and she fought them all.

She was not made for power. She was not made for destiny. She was not made to mount the throne or receive the kneeling supplicancy of a host of kings and all their warriors; she was not made to be the hero, as in the Mistralian stories she had read by moonlight in her stepmother’s library.

But none of that mattered now. None of that mattered in these moments as the changelings descended upon her in their black and buzzing mass, because she was made to stand her ground, and in this moment, that was all that was required of her.

The changelings descended on her, and Cinder fought them all. Her clawed hands slashed to the right and left, her roars shook the shifting pillars of this labyrinth, her armour of obsidian and her ruby scales withstood their blows, her strength was greater than their resilience by far; they could not stand before her blows, before her might, before her fury so much greater than their own.

They had taken Sunset. They had separated them once again. They had made Cinder give serious thought to handcuffing the two of them together like the protagonists of a buddy movie because it seemed the only way that she could be sure of Sunset’s safety. They had taken Sunset, and if Cinder could not rescue her personally, then by the gods, by Seraphis and Tithys, by the Darkness and the Light, by the spirits of the sea and sky and household, by all the powers of heaven and hell, she’d make them rue the day they dared to do so.

The black mass swarmed around her, those green eyes gleaming in the darkness, but Cinder was black as well, a black knight armoured in obsidian, and these little monsters could not bring her down. She slashed. She kicked. She stamped upon them when they were down. She roared. She bit. She flailed wildly with the surety of striking something. When they sought to grab her from behind, she hurled herself bodily backwards into the wall, crushing them between her and the stone. They dragged her off the platform, falling down the stairs that she had ascended earlier, but she used the changelings to break her fall and then got up to face the rest.

They came on and on, and Cinder fought them on and on. She beat them down. She knocked them out. She made herself the nightmare of their misbegotten race, such that they would tell stories for a hundred years hence of the dragon who invaded their hive and laid waste to their strongest fighters, such that they would frighten changeling children to bed by warning that the dragon of black and red would get them if they tarried overlong.

Cinder fought them all, and as she fought, she laughed. She laughed because she was winning, despite their numbers. She laughed because she was winning. It was a sensation that she had thought might be lost to her, that she might be strong, be powerful, be fearless even in the face of peril.

In this place, in this world, she was Cinder Fall once more. They could not stand before her.

“Back off!” a harsh voice cried. “Back off! She’s mine.”

The changelings, those that remained, retreated, not even bothering to hover nearby, but retreating all the way that they had come, into their holes, down the corridors.

I have bought you time, Starlight. Use it wisely.

Only a single changeling remained. He was a little different from the others: his eyes were deep purple and so were his wings, and he had a red fin running down his neck like the crest of a helmet. His tiny tail was likewise crimson.

Cinder snorted. “Not very bold of you to wait until I’m tired by your minions to challenge me.”

His purple eyes narrowed. “Are you tired?”

“I could do this all day.”

The changeling smirked. “I’m glad to hear it.” His body was consumed by green flames as he transformed into some sort of giant insect, a six-legged creature of purple and black, with an arachnid five-eyed face, a stinging tail, and powerful, armoured-looking legs.

He shrieked and surged forwards towards Cinder, four wings beating violently, forelegs out to jab at her like immense lances.

Cinder stood her ground, waiting for her enemy to come to her, and as he approached, she grabbed his forelegs in both hands, and as the claws of her feet dug into the rock beneath, she pivoted, swinging her changeling opponent around in the air to hurl him at the wall.

The giant insect flew towards it, legs flailing, but at the last moment, the changeling transformed again in another burst of flame, changing back into himself, and in that smaller body rather than hitting the wall, he was able to kick off of it and shoot back towards Cinder. Only once he was flying towards her once again did he return to his insect form.

Cinder stepped back and drew back her fist. If throwing him wouldn’t work, then she’d see how many punches this thing could take.

The giant insect flew towards her once again. Cinder swung, but the changeling transformed once more so that her blow landed upon the empty air, and the changeling – in what Cinder could only assume to be their natural form – slammed into Cinder’s gut.

Cinder was knocked off balance. She hit the ground with a crash of her obsidian armour. The changeling hissed, triumphant, and for the third time assumed his insect form, bringing down one leg on Cinder’s face.

Cinder caught the leg and punched him in the face with her free hand as she had meant to do before once, twice; at the third blow, he transformed into a rock, which left Cinder’s hand smarting even as she batted it away.

It bounced twice upon the ground, but the changeling did not seem too affected by the blow, although he did have to shake his head twice as if to clear it.

Cinder leapt to her feet and charged towards him; if he was just going to keep transforming, then she would have to keep hold of him no matter what form he changed into.

She leapt on him, roaring. The changeling transformed into Twilight’s friend Applejack and turned to present his hind legs towards her, kicking Cinder across the chamber so hard that she made a dent in the wall that she struck, stone shards showering her.

There was a crack in her obsidian cuirass. Fragments of gleaming black glass began to trickle to the floor.

Cinder closed her eyes and bowed her head as she remained slumped on the ground, armour broken, showered with broken stone.

Let him think me weak. Let him think me done.

The changeling changed into a changeling and hissed triumphantly as he soared towards her.

Cinder restrained the smirk on her face as she got up at the last possible moment, spinning around to smack him with her tail hard enough to send him flying in turn.

He transformed into something new now, into a purple mole creature with great digging claws on the end of its paws.

He roared at her, spittle flying.

Cinder roared right back at him.

They charged, shaking the earth beneath them with their tread as they came together like two bulls meeting in the field, clashing their horns in the battle for mastery. They both struck out with their claws, against Cinder’s armour and her scales, against the thick hide of her opponent. For a few moments, each stood their ground, slashing at one another, striking at one another, blocking with their arms where they could, trading blow for blow. This creature, whatever he had become, was strong indeed; Cinder’s vambrace shattered beneath one blow, the helm was knocked from her head with another, the destruction of her cuirass was completed as her scales began to take the brunt of the impact, but she did not retreat. She would not retreat.

She had not fought this far, she had not felt as though she were regaining her prowess, only to retreat now, only to concede defeat to however worthy an opponent. She stood her ground, she took the blows, and she returned in kind every stroke he gave her and more.

And he retreated, shifting back into his changeling state to fly away from her.

Cinder took a breath. And then another.

“You’re tougher than I expected,” he admitted grudgingly.

Cinder laughed. “And you are a worthier foe than I had looked to find here. As one warrior to another, I tell you that my name is Cinder Fall; will you offer me your name in turn?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Pharynx,” he spat. “My name is Pharynx.”

Cinder recognised the name. “You lead the patrols.”

Pharynx nodded.

“Was it intentional that there was no one patrolling outside when we arrived?”

Pharynx smirked.

“I thought so,” Cinder muttered. “Thank you, Pharynx.”

Pharynx’s eyes narrowed. “For what?” he asked suspiciously.

Now it was Cinder’s turn to smirk, “Why, for this fight, obviously.”

Pharynx’s purple eyes gleamed. “You realise that you can’t win.”

“Oh, watch me,” Cinder said.

Pharynx rushed at her again, returning to that old familiar favourite of his insect form. He came forward, wings beating, and once more, Cinder made to strike him. Once more, he transformed into a changeling, but this time, Cinder caught him with her other hand.

“Disappointing of you to think the same trick would work twice!” Cinder snarled. She had him now, and so long as she held onto him, then victory would be hers. She just had to hold on.

Pharynx knew that as well as she did, because as she held on, he began changing into a multitude of different shapes in his efforts to get free. He turned into a snake and tried to wriggle free of Cinder’s grip, but she hung on. He turned into a swan and beat at her with his wings, but she hung on. He turned into a raging lion and slashed at Cinder with his claws, but she hung on. He became a fish, he became a bear, he became a frog, and through it all, Cinder hung on, because all she had to do was hang on and keep squeezing, and he would become too tired to continue.

There was the sound of an explosion somewhere up above, from near the top of the hive.

And as the explosion sounded, and as the hive itself seemed to shake, Cinder felt something within her. She felt the fire return within her breast, she felt her wings strengthen, she felt the flame in which she had rejoiced when she arrived in Equestria burn hot again.

Cinder laughed, and as she laughed, she blew a gust of flame out of her mouth, erupting upwards towards the ceiling, as hot as any Maiden’s fire had been.

They did it. Starlight and the rest, they did it!

There wasn’t a moment to lose. She had no time to spare for Pharynx now; she had no need to continue their conquest. She dropped him, and as she let him go, she leapt upwards, spreading her wings outwards as she leapt.

She blew flames downwards to try and push her up. It didn’t work too well, but it carried her sufficiently high that she was able to dig her claws into the walls of the hive and climb upwards, always upwards, ever upwards, upwards through a hive that now had ceased to move and change so that she need only keep climbing, and burst through the occasional floor, until she erupted out of the last floor and onto the top of the hive.

A top that had been blown off by some great force, exposing the platform to the open air.

The changelings were… changed. Instead of black, they were now vivid shades of green and blue, with sparkling gossamer wings and eyes of almond or purple and all trace of fangs gone from their mouths.

More importantly, ponies were picking their way out of shattered cocoons: Princess Twilight and her friends, Princess Celestia, and-

“Sunset!” Cinder yelled, running towards her as soon as she saw her. “Make room, out of the way! Sunset!”

Sunset looked at her. “Cinder?”

Cinder halted. “Is that a tone of surprise?”

“Well-”

“You were captured by changelings; did you honestly think that I wouldn’t come and rescue you?”

“I didn’t say that-”

“Do you honestly think so little of me that your rescue would not be my first-?”

“Cinder!” Sunset shouted. She smiled. “Thank you, for coming for me.”

Cinder swept Sunset up in her arms, and held her close. “I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

“I needed to give you the chance to be a hero by saving me,” Sunset said, wrapping her forelegs around Cinder’s neck. “Seriously, that’s my cutie mark; I enable other people to shine.”

Cinder looked at her. “That… okay, that makes a disturbing amount of sense. So what you’re saying is that this is going to become a regular occurrence. An even more regular occurrence than it already is.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“This is the second time in a row,” Cinder reminded her.

Sunset sighed. “Okay, it sort of is that bad. I’ll try and be more careful in future.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Cinder said. “Or you could just rely on me to save you.”

Sunset chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to put you out that way.” She smiled, but then her smile died. “Cinder?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened while I was out?”

More Than Nothing

More Than Nothing

“We defeated the changelings with no magic at all, they found a new leader, and… they’re all kinda good now,” Starlight said, answering a question from Twilight similar to the one just posed by Sunset.

“What did you miss?” Cinder asked, nodding in Starlight’s direction. “That, apparently.”

“'Apparently'?” Sunset asked.

“Well, I didn’t see anything but the defeating of changelings, so I’ll have to take Starlight’s word for the rest,” Cinder admitted. “But we – I – absolutely defeated the changelings. But I’m not so sure about them all being ‘good’ now, in as much as they were ever bad.”

“What do you mean?”

The pile of rubble which lay against the western edge of the platform, not far at all from the drop down to the base of the hive, began to shift, the stones rustling before they were flung rudely in all directions by the creature that emerged out from under them.

This, Cinder presumed, was Chrysalis, the Queen of the Changelings; she was taller than the other changelings were or had been, as tall as Princes Celestia, and like Princess Celestia, she had a horn atop her head and wings growing out of her back, but her horn, though it was long, was as black as the rest of her, crooked and holed; in fact, it wasn’t the only part of her that seemed incomplete; her legs down near the hooves, her bug-like wings, her tail, all of them were holed like clothes on which the moths had been feasting.

She emerged from underneath the rubble snarling, baring her fangs, hissing wildly, her horn aglow with green magical light.

“Stay behind me,” Cinder said, putting Sunset down and stepping over her, placing her scale-armoured – she had lost most of her actual armour during the battle with Pharynx – body between Sunset and the changeling queen.

“Hey!” Sunset protested, as though she hadn’t just been captured by these very same changelings.

However, it soon became apparent to Cinder that there was not going to be a resumption of the battle. Princess Celestia, Princess Twilight, two other alicorns of whose acquaintance Cinder had not yet had the pleasure but whom she took to be Princesses Luna and Cadance, Princess Twilight’s friends, Starlight Glimmer, Discord, not to mention all of the transformed – and apparently reformed – changelings, all were arrayed against Queen Chrysalis; their expressions were grim and spoke of a readiness to fight if need be. All the alicorns save Princess Celestia had their own horns glowing, magic ready at their command.

The magical glow around Chrysalis’ horn died out; the anger in her green eyes died with it, her expression turning from one of fury to one of fear as she began to understand that she was without her army.

There was a part of Cinder – the part of her, no doubt, which had guaranteed that she would not arrive in this land transformed into a pony – which wanted to see the power of Equestria’s rulers and its champions first hand, unloaded upon an enemy of the realm.

But, of course, this was not that kind of a place, and so, Starlight Glimmer stepped forwards, walking calmly and without any fear that Cinder could see towards her adversary. Of course, it might be said that Starlight had very little to be afraid of in such circumstances, but there was always the danger of a hidden dagger, a last defiant strike, even in defeat. No matter how stacked the odds might be in her favour, nevertheless, Starlight was brave to do it.

“When Twilight and her friends defeated me, I chose to run away and seek revenge,” Starlight declared. “You don’t have to. You can be the leader your subjects deserve.”

A little rough on the ‘new leader’ you proclaimed mere moments ago, Cinder thought, and yet, as she watched Starlight extend her hoof out towards Chrysalis, she could not help but be touched by it. It was easy to mock the idea of befriending your enemies, of bringing them into the fold, it was easy to find it naïve in the abstract, but to watch it happen was to witness that there was a certain simple nobility about it. Starlight had won, Equestria had triumphed, but rather than lord their defeat or crow their victory or even to destroy the beaten foe who lay prostrate before them, Starlight offered her a hoof up, offered Chrysalis a chance to be no more the vanquished but to share in the rewards of victory. Starlight even offered to treat her as a queen. Mistralian lords and conquering emperors had been less generous.

Mind you, I don’t suppose that is too surprising.

For a moment, Cinder thought that Chrysalis would take the hoof that Starlight offered, take the generosity that she offered; for a moment, as she looked away, the Queen of the Changelings looked stricken with melancholy. As she raised her moth-eaten hoof, it seemed as though she might be on the verge of tears.

Then she slapped Starlight’s hoof away and rose to her hooves and her full height, snarling, “There is no revenge you could ever conceive of that will come close to what I will exact upon you one day, Starlight Glimmer!” And with those parting words – and before anyone else could ruin their effect with a reply – she turned and leapt off the platform. Cinder guessed – but did not see – that her wings would carry her safely down to the ground below.

No one seemed in any great hurry to stop her.

Cinder folded her arms. “You know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think that was rather impressive.”

Sunset’s hooves tapped lightly upon the floor as she walked out from behind Cinder to stand at her side. She was giving Sunset a bit of an old-fashioned look which signalled that, in her opinion at least, Cinder was right: she shouldn’t have said it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Cinder murmured.

“You just said you admire her for refusing help,” Sunset said. “Refusing friendship.”

“Just because we’re together doesn’t mean that I am obliged to think as you do,” Cinder pointed out. “Just because we’re in your country doesn’t mean I’m obliged to think as your people do. And I know that you are not so insufferably good that you can deny that that had style.”

Sunset hesitated, glancing around to see that no one was close enough to overhear them. “Okay, it was pretty cool, in abstract,” she admitted, “but I doubt that she’ll get any joy from it-”

“I stand by what I told you after the Beacon dance,” Cinder declared. “Those who most want us to put our so-called wellness before justice, those who want us to move forward past the wrongs that have been done to us, those who preach such things most loudly do so because they have a vested interest in nobody challenging the means by which they became so powerful. Sometimes, we must suffer for the sake of higher principles, of which revenge is one.”

“Her subjects decided they wanted something and someone different, and better, by the sounds of what Starlight said,” Sunset pointed out. “Where is the great injustice under which she labours?”

Cinder smirked. “Why, Sunset, I didn’t expect you to be such a republican.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t appear that the changelings are about to start a democracy,” she said. “Rather, they have exchanged a tyrant for a good… do you know who their new leader is?”

“I have a sinking suspicion that I do,” Cinder murmured. “In which case, it will be a good king.” For a certain value of good.

“Anyway,” Sunset went on, “Chrysalis would have been happier if she had taken Starlight’s hoof, and you know that as well as I do, or you would not be here.”

“I accept that you are correct,” Cinder replied, “but…her kingdom has been usurped, and for all Starlight’s talk of being the leader they deserve, those she once led have rejected her. All she has left is her pride, and you and I both know how hard it is to surrender one’s pride once it is all one has to cling to. Yes, I understand that there is more to life than power and rule, that there are other things worth more and more fulfilling, but… she hasn’t had the opportunity to learn that yet.”

“She was just offered the opportunity,” Sunset pointed out.

“These things take time, as well you know,” Cinder reminded her. “It took work on your part to get me where I am today, and you never asked me to… you never demanded that I humble myself. You never asked me to admit that I was wrong in front of Pyrrha or Blake. You didn’t force me onto my knees to abase myself; you raised me up higher than I was before. I… I owe you thanks for that.”

“No,” Sunset said, “you don’t. And Starlight didn’t seek to humiliate Chrysalis.”

“To the proud, even generosity can seem humiliating,” Cinder murmured. “Perhaps, in time, she will receive an offer of compassion more to her liking.”

“Perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “But how much damage will she do seeking revenge between then and now?”

“If you’re concerned about that, do you want me to go after her?” Cinder asked.

“I can’t imagine she’ll take your hand where she refused Starlight,” Sunset said.

“Maybe she won’t, but in that case, perhaps she should be-”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, we don’t do that here. That’s not our way.”

“You said yourself it may lead to trouble down the line,” Cinder pointed out. “In Remnant-”

“We are not in Remnant,” Sunset said, softly but firmly. “We will not stain this land with blood. Everypony has decided to let her go, then let her go; whatever she does next, I am sure that Twilight and the others will be equal to her evil.”

Cinder hesitated, but then nodded. “Very well,” she said softly. “In Mistral, do as the Mistralians do.” She paused for a moment. “War is a terrible thing, they say, and I can believe it. I have… caused the thing that makes war terrible. And yet, a wise man once said that if you speak only of war's horrors, if you teach war only as the greatest ill that may befall a people, then you will never comprehend, or be able to explain, why people of sound mind ever went to war. Why did the Emperor of Mistral hazard his entire kingdom, his rule, the future of his dynasty upon the hazards of the battlefield?”

“Because it was easier than negotiating a fair settlement of the issues at hand?” Sunset suggested.

“Or because there is a moment when the banners fly and the drums beat and all the noble warriors of Mistral draw their swords and proclaim that they will win you all your rights and claims when the horrors of war are nowhere to be seen and it seems the most glorious thing in the world to rush to arms?” Cinder suggested. “In the same way, you will never understand what makes someone like Chrysalis spurn an offer like she received from Starlight unless you are willing to concede an appeal, however misguided, to daring defiance and insisting that you will go your own way. To fight, and not to yield.”

“Oh, I understand the appeal,” Sunset said. “I just wish I didn’t.”

“What… what happened?”

Cinder turned around to see Pharynx hovering above the hole that Cinder had made in the floor when she had crawled up the hive to get to Sunset. He, unlike every other changeling here, had not transformed; Cinder was able to recognise him not only by his voice but by the fact that he looked exactly as he had done when he was fighting Cinder.

She wondered how many other changelings on the lower levels of the hive had similarly not transformed; had they also failed to ‘turn good,’ as it were?

It mattered little; it was a simplistic formulation anyway, and Cinder found she was not too much worried about the threat of a changeling counterattack from below; without the drain on the magic of all non-changelings, they stood little chance of success.

What more concerned her was Pharynx. He did not look angry, as Chrysalis had done; he looked shocked – as best as Cinder could tell, his eyes were wide – and as he sank to the floor, looking around at a people now utterly unlike him, he looked defeated too.

And Cinder could not help but pity him for that. She had admired Chrysalis’ refusal to give in, but the truth was that she saw more of herself in Pharynx: a loyal warrior, used and then abandoned, left without a purpose. What would he do in this new order? What place did he have amongst these changed changelings? What awaited the warrior in a world that had forsworn battle?

“Excuse me a moment,” Cinder murmured to Sunset, and walked slowly and as softly as she could over to where Pharynx had sank down.

She sat beside him, facing the same way that he did, looking at his people who were no longer his people any more.

“What happened is that we won the battle,” Cinder said, without any malice or triumph in her voice. “And that you did. Queen Chrysalis is fled, and the changelings, as you can see, are changed.”

“How?” Pharynx demanded. “Changed to what?”

“Don’t ask me; I was down below keeping you company, remember?” Cinder said. “It seems to be… something better than before.”

Pharynx snorted. “They look ridiculous.”

Cinder could not resist a slight smile. “Well, yes,” she conceded. “That too.”

“Black is a fearsome colour,” Pharynx declared. “Red is intimidating to our enemies. Who is supposed to be intimidated by that?”

“I think the intent is that you won’t need to intimidate your enemies, because you’ll have no enemies from now on,” Cinder told him. “See, your new leader is over there, negotiating friendship with Princess Celestia.”

Pharynx looked at where Princess Celestia stood with one particular changeling who stood taller than the rest; his body was green with orange accents at the nape of his neck, and he had orange antlers like a deer growing out of the sides of his head; his wings were long and purple and sparkled in the sunlight.

“Who is that?” he demanded.

“I expect it’s Thorax?”

“Thorax?” Pharynx spat. “My brother is the new leader of the hive?”

“Your brother?” Cinder repeated. “Thorax is your brother?”

“Uh huh.”

Cinder blinked. “I… never would have guessed.”

“I get that a lot,” Pharynx muttered. He paused. “Where did the queen go?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Do you know anything?” Pharynx demanded.

“I know she went to seek her vengeance,” Cinder said.

Pharynx took a moment to reply. “So she just left? Just like that? She just… left us?”

“If… if you were to join her, I doubt anyone would try and stop you.”

Pharynx was silent for a moment. He stared at Thorax, where he stood talking with Princess Celestia. “No,” he said.

“No?”

“The hive is my home,” Pharynx said. “The swarm is my home. These are my people… even if I don’t recognise them anymore. Queen Chrysalis might be able to just turn her back on that, but I can’t. I won’t.”

Cinder nodded. “Those in power rarely reward the loyalty of those who serve them. They may rely on you more, but only as a tool, a weapon.” She thought back to what the false Sunset had said, about duty. Small wonder that there had been many in the hive eager to overthrow their queen. “You can be more than that now.”

“'More'?” Pharynx asked. “All my life, I’ve been a warrior, a protector of the hive. I worked my way to become head of Patrol because I wanted to keep the hive safe, because I wanted to keep them safe. If I can’t do that… if they don’t need me to do that, then… then I’m not more than I was; I’m not even what I was, I’m less.”

“And yet you would stay for them?”

Pharynx shrugged. “They’re mine,” he said. “Even if they don’t want me anymore.”

“Even in a time of peace, there are still shadows,” Cinder told him. “Even a land of harmony requires those with the courage to defend it. I do not believe that your people are done with need of you yet, though they may not realise it now.”

Pharynx looked at her. “Why are you telling me this? I’m your enemy.”

“You were my enemy,” Cinder said. “Now the battle is over, and we need not be enemies.”

Pharynx said, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re telling me this.”

“Because I used to think that the worst thing in the world was to feel powerless,” Cinder explained. “But now I understand that the true worst thing in the world is to feel unable to help those you love. To feel as though they wouldn’t miss you if you weren’t here, because you are of no use to them. If you ever feel that way, remember my words: your day will come, I guarantee it.”

Pharynx was silent for a few moments. “I’ll remember,” he said. “I’ll try and remember.”

“As I will remember our fight,” Cinder said as she got to her feet. “It was a pleasure.”

Pharynx looked up at her and paused. After a moment, he offered her a silent nod.

Cinder turned away. He had a lot to think about, but hopefully, he thought about what Cinder had said in the days to come if things went badly, or he felt like an outsider. He had been loyal to the old regime, true, but Cinder judged him a good fellow; she liked him better than she liked his brother, to tell the truth. She hoped that he could find a place in the new Changeling hive.

She hoped a space was made for him.

Sunset was smiling at her as Cinder rejoined her, and smiling in a particularly smug and rather knowing way at that.

“What?” Cinder demanded.

“Nothing,” Sunset replied disingenuously. “That was a nice thing you did.”

“Tried to do,” Cinder corrected her. “I don’t know if it will stick, and don’t expect me to make a habit of it.”

Sunset kept on smiling – until the smile faded as she asked, “Cinder? Where’s Cardin?”

“Oh, that’s right; we need to get him out of the dungeon.”

“What in Equestria is Cardin doing in the dungeon?!”

Cardin slammed his tankard down on the wooden table. “You forgot? You just forgot?”

Cinder smirked. “In fairness, you are very forgettable.”

Cardin glared at her. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. “There are… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing; there’s a good boy,” Cinder said. “Besides, it wasn’t like you were in there for any length of time. And compared to the cells at Freeport, it looked very nice.”

“Yes, okay, it was nice, the food was good, and the guards were very considerate once I stopped struggling, but still,” Cardin said, “you forgot me?”

“There was a lot going on,” Cinder insisted.

“She’s very sorry,” Sunset said.

“Don’t apologise on my behalf; if I’m sorry, I’ll say so myself,” Cinder declared.

“Let’s just stop arguing, okay?” Sunset suggested. “Cardin’s out, I’m out, we’re at a celebration; let’s enjoy ourselves.”

Discord’s initial suggestion of a celebratory tea at Fluttershy’s had been vetoed, if only by Fluttershy’s quiet dismay at the prospect of hosting so many guests at such short notice; fortunately, Discord could take them all absolutely anywhere he liked, so – after a brief stop at Canterlot to rescue Cardin and unmask the fake Celestia, Luna, and Sunset, the last of whom at least seemed quite glad to be going home, and another brief stop at Ponyville to take care of the fake Princess Twilight and her friends – he had deposited them all at Starlight Glimmer’s old village, where the Sunset Festival was still ongoing.

And Starlight Glimmer was throwing herself into it. Where previously, she had fled at the prospect of taking any active role in proceedings, now, she was everywhere, choosing banners, organising events, taking the village in hand once more and showing them how it was done.

Small wonder that they had been so keen to have her back; Cinder was left with the impression they were rather lost without her.

Ah, well. Their loss is Ponyville’s gain, I suppose.

For their part, Sunset, Cinder, and Cardin were sitting at a wooden bench situated two thirds of the way down the only street in the little settlement, with tankards of cider – non-alcoholic, which was probably for the best, considering that they needed to keep up a good impression for the locals – in front of them, watching the festival come together under Starlight’s supervision.

No one was paying them much attention, and at this moment, Cinder didn’t mind that at all.

“So, this festival,” Cardin said, sipping from his cider. “What are we celebrating?”

“It’s the Sunset Festival,” Sunset said, as though that was an explanation.

“The sun sets every day; what’s so special about this one?” Cardin asked. He paused. “They’re not celebrating you, are they?”

“No,” Sunset assured him. “Although, when I was a filly, I pretended they were.”

“Of course you did,” Cinder said, grinning as she took a drink. The taste danced upon her tongue.

“So what are we celebrating?”

“We’re bidding farewell to summer,” Sunset explained. “Summer is welcomed in at the beginning with the Summer Sun Celebration and the rising of the first sun of the season, and then bid farewell with the setting of the last.”

Cardin nodded. “So, we’ve talked about what it was like for me in the dungeons; what was it like for you being captured again?”

Sunset hesitated. “Well, um…”

“You don’t have to say if it’s too much,” Cinder told her.

Sunset’s face turned a little red. “You see… it’s not that, exactly, it’s more that… it was actually quite nice.”

Silence greeted this pronouncement.

“'Quite nice,'” Cardin said flatly.

“Yeah,” replied Sunset shamefacedly.

“Being captured, replaced, and imprisoned in a cocoon was quite nice?” Cinder asked.

“I didn’t know I was in a cocoon,” Sunset explained. “I thought… I suppose you could say that I was dreaming. It makes sense, actually; if the changelings wanted to feed off our love, then they would want us to be… generating love or feeling it or something like that. They wouldn’t want us to know that we were imprisoned or rage against it or try to escape; that wouldn’t generate love at all.”

“I suppose, when you put it like that,” Cinder muttered. “Although not every dream is guaranteed to produce a surplus of love, either. In fact, I can think of many that would not.”

“It wasn’t just a dream; it was...” Sunset paused for a moment. “It was the dream.” She drained her cider. “I was back in Remnant. I was at Beacon; they’d rebuilt it. Or it had never fallen at all; my mind’s a little unclear on that. One way that it was very like a dream is that the details are kind of hard to remember after the fact. I suppose it must have been a world where the tower never fell because Professor Ozpin was there too. Alive, obviously, and not reincarnated either, just Professor Ozpin as we knew him. He told me… he told me everything was okay; we’d won the war, Salem was gone, and although the grimm were still out there, they weren’t going to pose nearly as much of a threat to anyone. And my teammates were there, and Blake… I don’t remember Blake’s teammates being there, and I don’t remember really caring that they weren’t. But Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby… and we could just study and hang out and have a normal time at school without needing to worry about secret organisations or relics or Maidens or any of that stuff; it was… it was really great. It was peaceful; it was… it was everything I wanted.

“Would you have preferred that I left you there?” Cinder asked dryly.

Sunset snorted. “No,” she replied. “Although, if you’d waited a little longer, I would have found out what you had planned for our first date.”

Cinder grinned. “I’m glad now that I didn’t leave you in there any longer; I don’t need competition from your subconscious. So I was there, in your dream.”

“Of course you were; where else would you be?”

“Nowhere in particular; I’m just glad to hear it,” Cinder replied casually. “Although, why is it my responsibility to choose a date for us? You could arrange a date if you wanted to.”

“Because it was my fantasy, and I had the prerogative of being pampered, I suppose,” Sunset said. “But, if you prefer, I will come up with something. Since we’re going to be coming out into Canterlot, I probably should.”

“Is there anything civilised to do in Canterlot, or is it frightfully provincial?” Cinder asked.

“I’ll find us something fun,” Sunset promised. “Don’t worry.”

“Do you two want me to leave you alone?” Cardin asked.

“No, we’re just talking,” Sunset insisted. She drank from her tankard of cider. “Thank you for coming for me.”

Cinder grinned toothily. “Thank you for being captured.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose.

“You think I’m joking, don’t you?” Cinder said. “Well, I am joking, somewhat, but… ever since I gave up the powers of the Fall Maiden – the powers that you gave away like old clothes-”

“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Ever since I gave up my powers, I have felt…” Cinder trailed off. “I understand that there is more to life than power, I understand that the pursuit of power is hollow and futile, I understand that my desires were leading me down a path to self-destruction as surely as any tragic hero ever walked such a path before, but… I understand that it is more important to- to love and be loved than it is to be able to command the elements or terrify people with the majesty of your might.” She reached out and laid a hand on Sunset’s hoof. “And yet, nevertheless… to be powerful, it is not nothing. Not to me and not in the world that we live in. I gave my power to you, freely and without coercion, and although I would make that choice again, nevertheless, I felt… useless. Pointless. Nothing.”

“You were never nothing,” Sunset said.

“Was I not?” Cinder asked. “I couldn’t rescue you from the Sun Queen, I couldn’t help you defend Freeport from the grimm, I couldn’t help you against those otherworldly grimm who stalked us from Patch, I couldn’t defend myself against Grogar. I hung around, and I talked, and I couldn’t even make you feel better. I had no power. Without your magic, without even anything comparable to Ruby’s silver eyes, I was… just there. Waiting as you didn’t notice me, watching as you fell apart, but… but feeling too much indebted to you to tell you were falling apart.”

Sunset leaned forward upon the wooden table. “And now?”

“And now… now, I feel differently,” Cinder said. “I helped to save you, I fought a battle worthy of a great warrior, I… feel better, if not perhaps for the right reasons.”

“You were never nothing,” Sunset insisted. “Never.”

“So you say,” Cinder murmured. “But after the day I’ve had, I can believe it.” She grinned. “It’s good to be back, isn’t it?”

“Indubitably,” Sunset replied. Her tankard was covered in the green glow of magic as she raised it in the air. “To being back.”

“To being more than nothing,” Cinder replied.

Cider sloshed out of their tankards as they thumped them together.

“We’re back,” Cinder declared. “Let all of Remnant beware.”

Celestial Gift

Celestial Gift

"So," Twilight said. "Are you looking forward to dinner tonight?"

"Is there something special about dinner tonight?" Sunset replied casually; to add to the insouciant affect, she did not look up from the book she was reading.

Twilight made a wordless growling sound. "Cadance? My brother? Flurry Heart? Family dinner, all-"

"All princesses together and then some, yes, I do remember; I was just messing with you," Sunset insisted as she finally deigned to look up from her book. "And it might indeed be said that I am looking forward to it."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "It might be said that you're looking forward to it?"

"It might also be said that I am considering feigning a stomachache," Sunset added. "Cadance and I... Well, we… that is to say that I... we didn't exactly get along famously when we both lived in the palace."

"You're not the same pony that you were back then," Twilight said.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I want to look her in the eye," Sunset said. "Especially since I... you know, I didn't ask for any rivals; what went down between us was not one hundred percent my fault."

"Uh huh," Twilight said sceptically.

"You say that, but I know from other people's experiences that having someone show up to compete for the affections of your mentor and... parent is not fun. Especially when they're more beautiful than you are, more graceful, more skilled..."

Twilight's voice was soft and quiet. "Who are we talking about now?"

"Amber," Sunset said. "She fell for a lot of reasons, but jealousy was one of them, I'm sure."

"A lot of things have changed for both you and Cadance," Twilight insisted. "I'm sure that you can put the past behind you." She paused. "It would make me very happy. It would make Princess Celestia very happy."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Weaponise my affection for Princess Celestia," Sunset said. "And don't make that face either," she added, as Twilight's eyes swelled up to as much as twice their normal size. "Fine, yes, I'm coming to dinner, no excuses."

"Yes!" Twilight crowed. "It'll be fine! You'll have a great time, and then you can apologise for ever worrying otherwise."

Sunset snorted. "Gladly."

Twilight smiled. "So, what are you reading?" She leaned forwards a little to overlook the book where it sat in the table in front of Sunset.

"I was hoping to find out some information about Grogar," Sunset said.

"I thought you-"

"I did," Sunset said. "But I was hoping that I could find something to explain... not how he got to Remnant, I suppose — that kind of explains itself; well, it doesn't explain how Gusty knew about Remnant, but that's a minor detail — but what those dead things were, what the Blood of Unicron is, whether any monsters he created might be on the loose... Grogar is gone, but there are a lot of unanswered questions."

Twilight nodded. "I guess so. Found anything useful?"

Sunset shook her head. "Some of it is interesting — did you know that Grogar had a race of snake-people servants? — but not particularly relevant to my questions."

"'Snake people'?" Twilight repeated. "I'd never heard of that."

"Me neither," Sunset replied. "But apparently they founded a city called Cobra-La—"

"'Cobra-La'? Really?"

"Twilight, we're in a city called Canterlot; who are we to talk?"

"Fair enough."

"And then, one day, after the defeat of Grogar, they... disappeared," Sunset finished.

Twilight frowned. "'They disappeared'? Did they leave any proof that they were ever real?"

"At this point, it would be a nice change of pace for a myth or legend to not be real," Sunset observed. She shut the book. "But, as I say, irrelevant to my questions."

"You might find other answers if you keep looking," Twilight suggested. "Want some help?"

"No, thank you," Sunset replied. "What with us going back to Remnant tomorrow, it's not like I have time for an exhaustive search."

"You can't stay longer?"

"Some would say I've stayed too long already," Sunset replied. "I can't leave my friends sticking in the wind forever. Ruby in Freeport, Pyrrha and Jaune in Mistral, Blake and Rainbow in Atlas, I have no doubt that everyone is doing everything they can to resist Salem; what right do I have to sit here safe while they hazard their lives? If there was one thing I could use to justify delay, it was that learning more about myself could help me help them better, but I've done that now, so... everything else is just self-indulgence."

"Researching a threat is hardly what I'd call self-indulgence," Twilight said.

"It's not exactly getting out there and back into the fight," Sunset replied. "Research won't save Professor Ozpin."

"I guess not," Twilight admitted. "Perhaps I'm just trying to get you to stay longer so that we don't have to worry about you for a little longer."

"Have recent events not shown that Equestria can be perilous in its own way?"

"You know what I mean," Twilight insisted.

Sunset nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Her voice dropped to a mere whisper, "Friend of my soul."

"What's that?"

"It's from the Mistraliad, a classic in Remnant, and one of Pyrrha's favourites," Sunset explained. "One warrior explains to another that, since they are going to die anyway, they may as well risk their lives seeking glory in battle."

"Pyrrha never struck me as a glory sort of person in your descriptions."

"She isn't," Sunset acknowledged. "That's the irony of... Well, it's the irony of the Evenstar stuff, but more generally of Pyrrha herself. She fights, she moves, she speaks like a prince out of legend, she has spent her life walking in their... their footsteps, their shadows, you could argue it either way, but despite all that, she doesn't feel like they do. She doesn't fight for the same reasons that they fought. No prince of ancient times would have even considered becoming the Fall Maiden through the use of that machine — it would have revolted their pride — but Pyrrha? You're right, glory does not move her, but I think she found the undercurrent of fatalism reassuring at times."

"And you?"

Sunset smiled. "I can't deny I'd like the equivalent of one stained glass window," she said.

Twilight grinned. "At Beacon?"

"If it's ever rebuilt, sure," Sunset agreed. "But I would settle for a statue in the gardens of the House of Nikos: Sunset Shimmer, who bore the sword Soteria to such honours that she eclipsed all other bearers of the blade, even Achates Kommenos himself." Sunset chuckled. "I have to go back. The chains that pull me back are no less irresistible for being invisible."

“Are you worried about what will happen to you and Cinder when you do go back?” Twilight asked. “I mean, you’re both… from what you’ve told me… and we are talking about Atlas, where-”

“I’m aware that there might be difficulties, but I hope that General Ironwood will show me a little consideration as a member of Professor Ozpin’s organisation, even if he doesn’t approve of me personally.”

“And Cinder?”

“I won’t let anything happen to Cinder,” Sunset said flatly. “Certainly not because of a place I brought her to. I won’t bring her to Atlas and then let be thrown into some prison. That would be… pretty terrible, don’t you think?”

Twilight chuckled. “To say the least. Still, have you thought about what you’re going to do when you arrive?”

“I’m going to really hope,” Sunset said, “that Blake or Remnant’s Rainbow Dash will still take my calls.”

Cinder's footsteps were muffled by the carpet as she advanced down the centre of the chamber.

They were not muffled completely. The throne room was too quiet for that. A fly's footfall would have been distinctly heard, never mind a dragon's; for the long chamber was empty, save only for Cinder herself and Princess Celestia, who sat upon the throne at the far end of the room.

As she walked down the room towards the princess, Cinder's eyes glanced left and right to the stained glass windows that lined the transept, so many of which depicted this or that triumph of Princess Twilight Sparkle or her friends.

"At this rate," Cinder observed as she approached the dais, "Princess Twilight and the rest need only save Equestria a few more times, and there will be no more windows left." She smirked. "When that point comes, will you retire the older triumphs to make room for newer ones?"

Princess Celestia said nothing, but her raised eyebrows spoke volumes.

Cinder cleared her throat. "Forgive me, Your Highness; for many years now, wit has been my..."

"Weapon?" Princess Celestia suggested.

"My weapons have been my weapons," Cinder corrected her. "But wit has been my companion on the lonely road. I am more used to its presence than to judging how it will be received."

"It is of no matter," Princess Celestia declared. A slight smile pricked at the corner of her mouth. "It is a question that has occurred to us, I confess, but I will not bore you with the solutions I have considered. That is not why you are here."

"Then why am I here, Your Highness?" Cinder asked. It struck her that she probably ought to bow, and so she dropped to one knee and lowered her head, averting her eyes from Equestria's senior sovereign.

"There is no need for that," Princess Celestia said. "No need at all, not here, not between the two of us."

Cinder said nothing, but got back up onto her feet.

Princess Celestia said, "At a ceremony to be held in Twilight's castle, Starlight, Trixie, Thorax, and Discord will be honoured for their part in our rescue and the redemption of the changelings."

"Are they going to get a stained glass window?" Cinder could not help but ask.

Princess Celestia chuckled. "No," she said. "I'm afraid the nature of your adventure and the contributions made are difficult to capture in a single image."

"Saves you a window for later," Cinder muttered. She cleared her throat. "Apologies, once more."

"You will not be at that ceremony," Princess Celestia declared.

"No," Cinder murmured, "I don't suppose I will."

"But that does not mean your efforts are not appreciated," Princess Celestia went on. Her horn flared with a golden light, and that same golden light surrounded a small object upon a pink ribbon, which Princess Celestia brought down on Cinder's head, hanging the object by the ribbon around her neck. "Equestria's highest honour, the Pink Heart of Courage, given with immense gratitude."

Cinder looked down, raising one hand to lift up the decoration a little so she could see it better. It was a heart, a ruby — or so, at least, it looked to her — cut in the shape of a heart and set in gold that looked like pegasi wings. It was, perhaps, a little cute, but all the same... Equestria's highest honour. It was the first time that she had been honoured by any place, let alone made the recipient of their highest honour.

She would dedicate no spoils in Mistral's Temple of Victory, there would be no statues raised in her honour, but this... this could not be taken away from her by any power in Remnant. She had won this, she had earned this, and Princess Celestia would always recall that she had won it and how.

This was proof of her valour. This was proof she was not that which she had been.

"I will treasure this," she said softly. "I give you my word."

Princess Celestia did not reply until after she had begun to descend from the dais. "You must... no, you need not, but rather I hope you will forgive me, Cinder. I did not treat you-"

"You treated me according to my dessert, Your Highness," Cinder interrupted. "I deserved no more from you, and in any case, you have no need of my forgiveness, you being as you are, and I being..."

"Being possessed of Sunset's love?" Princess Celestia asked.

"If I may, Your Highness, I wish she had been here to see you honour me."

“Once more I beg your pardon for that, but I wished to speak with you alone," Princess Celestia said. She turned away from Cinder. "I am... afraid."

Cinder had no need to ask of what she was afraid. "I understand why. I will not insult you by pretending that there is not cause for fear."

Princess Celestia sighed. "How bad is it?"

Cinder hesitated.

"Speak true, I beg of you."

"Many great and valiant heroes have fought against the will of Salem," Cinder said softly. "Now they are bones, or else, their bones are dust."

"I see," Princess Celestia whispered. "I have had many students," she said. "But few indeed have I loved quite so well as Sunset Shimmer and Twilight Sparkle. And Sunset is... gone where there is so little I can do to aid her. I may counsel her, when she requests it, but I cannot cast a spell to keep her safe, I cannot send a host through the mirror to protect her, I have no great talisman to bestow upon her. All I may do is trust her... and you, Cinder Fall."

Once more, the horn of Princess Celestia flared with magic, and as she turned back to face Cinder once again, she levitated out from behind the throne a spear of gold.

Or at least, the lance was gilded, whatever lay beneath, and worked with patterns of rippling flame — created with such skill that the burning gold seemed slightly redder than the rest — spreading up the spear. Just beneath the tip was set a gleaming blue sapphire the size of Cinder's human palm, cut in a diamond shape and set in slender bands of swirling gold. Above that sat the tip of the spear, long and sharp and red as the most beautiful dawns to illuminate the sky.

Princess Celestia placed the weapon into Cinder's hands. "This spear belongs to an elder age, a more violent age, one which Equestria has fortunately left behind. Remnant, alas, has not been so fortunate, and so I grant this spear to you and beg you use it to... to keep my daughter safe."

Cinder looked down at the spear. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, and not only that but well balanced too, as she discovered as she spun the spear deftly in circles in one hand. She thrust with it one-handed, then with two, then moved fluidly through a series of blocks and stances. It was as swift as the wind, but more than that, "I feel... something inside of it."

"The sapphire is infused with magic," Princess Celestia explained. "It will cast shields, to defend you or others."

Cinder took the spear lightly in one hand. She could feel the power with the spear, like still water eager for a current to set it running. Gingerly, she reached out, the equivalent of dipping her fingers in the current. She held out her other arm as a shield of magic, patterned after Pyrrha's Akoúo̱, appeared upon her other arm.

Cinder hesitated, then planted the spearbutt onto the carpet by her feet. A larger shield, like the ones that she had seen Sunset created, appeared in front of her, completely covering her from head to toe.

Cinder’s smile was brief, and flashed some of her teeth. She looked towards one of the windows of stained glass and thrust out her hands towards it.

A shield appeared there, tall enough to guard even Pyrrha from all harm.

Cinder's dragon eyes widened as the shield vanished. "This... Princess, this gift is-"

"The least I can do, and yet also the most," Princess Celestia lamented.

Cinder bowed her head. "You honour me, and I shall likewise bear this weapon with great honour. Does it have a name?"

"Not that I know of, I confess."

"Then I shall name it," Cinder spun it in a circle, turning in place to bring it down, tip pointing towards the doors. "Daybreak."

“How very original.”

Cinder’s eyes darted around. “Discord?” It had been his voice, but as she looked around the throne room, she could see no sign of him anywhere.

“Surprised?” There was a flash of light, and suddenly, there he was, standing before her, casting a shadow over her. He craned his long neck down so that his face was inches away from hers. “You didn’t think I’d let you leave without some token of my appreciation, did you?”

“I thought it possible,” Cinder murmured as she fought the urge to back away. He still frightened her. She had spoken kindly to him in their trip to reach the changeling hive, but still, he frightened her. He was too powerful, she too helpless before him. She fought, too, the urge to conjure up a shield between the two of them with her newfound weapon, but of course, he could turn Daybreak into a twig with a snap of his fingers if he wished to do so.

Discord seemed to notice her fear despite all her attempts to hide it. “I am reformed, you know,” he pointed out. “I don’t enjoy people being afraid of me anymore. Annoyance, yes, in anypony but Fluttershy; exasperation, in a pinch; an irritated desire for me to go away, well who doesn’t appreciate that-”

“Many,” Princess Celestia said flatly. “Of whom I wish you were one.”

Discord paid her no heed. “-but fear? No, that’s a pleasure that I’ve given up. After all, friends can be annoyed with you, but they shouldn’t be afraid of you. Why, how would you feel if everyone was still scared of you?”

“I think I’ll have the chance to find out soon enough,” Cinder said. “To speak truth, I might prefer it to them thinking me pathetic.”

“Hmm,” Discord mused. “You have a way to go, don’t you, Cinder Fall? But you did help save Fluttershy, and you were the only one who didn’t laugh at me while I was temporarily without my powers.”

“I know what it’s like to be powerless,” Cinder replied. “I know that it’s no laughing matter.”

“Either way,” Discord said. “I think you deserve a little something to help you, in turn.” He snapped his fingers, and…

Nothing happened. Cinder didn’t look different, didn’t feel different, nothing new had… oh, wait, something had appeared: on her right arm; in golden ink upon her scales was nowt painted a design of an ouroboros, a wyrm eating its own tail.

“Your gift to me is a tattoo?” Cinder asked, keeping her tone respectful.

Discord chuckled. “You’ll figure it out,” he promised her. “When you need to.”

Sunset examined herself in the mirror, brushing her mane back first this way and then that, fretting with this strand or that of her fiery locks.

Reflected further back in the mirror, she could see Cinder, sprawled upon the bed as though she had collapsed there after a hard day.

"Are you nervous?" Cinder asked.

Sunset took a moment to reply. "A little."

Cinder sat up. "Why?"

"Because... because Cadance and I..." Sunset trailed off for a moment. "It is one thing for Twilight to do what I could not, but the fact that Cadance was more successful than me was always harder to take."

Cinder was silent for a moment. "You knew her, before you left?"

Sunset nodded. "She came to live in the palace after her ascension. Cadance... if I tell you that Cadance was my Pyrrha, does that make any sense to you?"

Cinder considered that for a moment. "That could either mean that you were impossibly devoted to her while at the same time — unlike anyone else you might be impossibly devoted to — seeing her as an equal, which is unlikely, so I suppose it means that you were irrationally jealous of her for reasons that in hindsight appear... undeserved."

"It's the second one," Sunset clarified. "Beautiful Cadance, beloved Cadance, surrounded by admirers Cadance, Cadance the muse of poets and the glittering ornament of court; Cadance who shone like a star, the brighter were ten thousand are. Cadance who... who took Celestia's affection away from me."

"Princess Celestia did not love her as she did you."

Sunset turned around, to look at Cinder and not her reflection. "How do you know that?"

"Princess Celestia told me so, when she gave me Daybreak to protect you," Cinder said. "She told me that she had had many students, but none she cared for as for you and Twilight."

Sunset's eyes widened. "She said that?"

Cinder smirked. "You can't honestly be surprised."

"We are talking about a thousand years' worth of ponies, here," Sunset pointed out. "I, um... you're going to make me blush, feeding my ego like this, wow." She coughed. "Anyway, the point is that... well, there are a couple of points, the first being that I am now more aware of the possibility that being Cadance wasn't all it appeared to be back in the day."

"And the second?"

Sunset laughed nervously. "In spite of that, I'm still kind of jealous. She... Cadance... this isn't something I could admit to just anyone, but you're a snob as well, so you'll understand."

"Excuse me, I am not a snob," Cinder declared. "I am an elitist. But don't let that stop you from spilling whatever it is that would make egalitarians hang their heads in shame. Although, quite frankly, I would have been right at home in a place so filled with coronets and princely styles."

"Oh, it is," Sunset assured her. "My attitudes did not spring sui genesis from my nature, but... Princess Celestia would not approve, and none of my Remnant friends would. Did I ever tell you how Blake went off on one at me just because I addressed Lady Nikos by her title?"

"No, but that sounds like a fun story."

"Maybe later," Sunset said. "The point is... one of the reasons I didn't like Cadance was the fact that some podunk pegasus had surpassed me without even trying. I was Princess Celestia's student, and yet, this country mare — whom not only had I not known was in the race; she hadn't known she was in the race either! — had lapped me and done what I could only hope to do and done it without any of my advantages or instruction. Which jealousy could be something I could apologise for, except-"

Cinder grinned. "You're still jealous aren't you?"

"She's still more successful than I am!" Sunset cried. "I accept that the destiny I sought after belonged to Twilight Sparkle all along. Celestia chose more wisely in her than in me. But Cadance... she's the ruler of her own country; I think I have the right to feel... she makes me feel less."

"Why?" Cinder asked. "What has she actually done that you should feel embarrassed to compare accomplishments with her?"

"She rules her own city," Sunset said bluntly.

Cinder blinked. "Alright, I accept that that could be awkward. But that is a thing she has, not a thing she has done. How many lives has she saved, how many wicked hearts has she redeemed, how many battles had she won?" Cinder knelt before her. "I'll wager that you have done more since coming into Remnant than she has sat upon her throne." She smiled. "So chin up, for gods' sake. The Princess of Hope should hold her head up high."

"Should she now?"

"Yes," Cinder confirmed. "Because the Princess of Hope is my Princess, and I could never love someone who was not surfeited in self-regard."

Sunset sniggered. "Then I shall wrap myself in pride, for your sake."

"That's more like it," Cinder agreed.

"Are you ready?"

"If you are, yes."

The two left Sunset's guest room, and Sunset led the way — although Cinder might well have known the route herself by now already — through the corridors of a palace now safely empty of changelings, reformed or otherwise — yesterday's bedtime monster were now today's friends and allies; a race less forgiving than ponykind might have struggled to cope; decades later and neither humans nor faunus had gotten over the Revolution yet — to the dining.

Princess Celestia was waiting for them there, and Princess Twilight.

And, of course, Princess Cadance.

She was every bit as beautiful as Sunset remembered: tall, with a slender frame — in particular, her legs were noticeably more willow than was common — which lent her an air of fragile grace. Her mane, of rose and violet streaked with pale gold, was almost as long as she was tall, descending almost to the ground, only to curl gently upwards at the tips. She was attired like a miniature Celestia, with a slender golden necklace clasped about her neck and a dainty coronet resting on her brow. Sunset could not help but find that something of an affectation — if there was any pony with a rightful claim to be a new Celestia, it was Twilight Sparkle, but you didn't see her prancing about that way, did you? — but since nobody else seemed to find it worth commenting on, Sunset decided she would not mention it.

Her husband — or at least, Sunset assumed the stallion with her was her husband, and therefore Twilight's brother too — was equally attractive, in his own way; he was squarely built and muscular, with a firm jaw and a powerful body. His mane was short by the standards of most people that Sunset knew — possibly a bit longer than Cardin’s hair — a little spiky, and coloured in various shades of blue matching his eyes.

Sunset stopped, and took a deep breath. "Princess Cadance."

The conversation died. Cadance turned towards her, her long mane swaying.

"Sunset Shimmer," she said softly. "I'm sorry, that should be Princess Sunset Shimmer, shouldn't it?"

"Not here," Sunset said. "This hardly seems the place to stand on ceremony."

"And yet, you just-"

"Yes, thank you, Cinder, I know what I said," Sunset hissed. She kept her eyes fixed upon Cadance's face. "I... there are things that I said to you which I... I'm sure that you... I didn't think... I'm sorry."

Cadance was silent for a moment. "I never meant to make you feel... it was never my intent to take anything anyway from you."

"You didn't," Sunset assured. "I took them away from myself."

"But I've sometimes wondered if... if my being here contributed to... I didn't understand what you were going through."

"I don't think either of us understood what the other was going through " Sunset said. "For my part, I didn't care to try. Congratulations, on your rule in the Crystal Empire."

"Congratulations upon your ascension. You made it, just like you said you would."

"Thank you," Sunset said.

It was Cadance who made the first move, stepping forward and baring her neck. Sunset stepped in, pressing her own neck against that of Cadance. The hug was brief, although not brief enough to be called perfunctory, but it made Sunset feel better. The awkwardness was past; they had shut the door upon that part of the past.

And Princess Celestia watched them with a smile upon her face.

Sunset stepped back. "Allow me to introduce you to my... my girlfriend, Cinder Fall." It felt quite good to say that; she'd have to find excuses to say it more often.

Cinder bowed. "Charmed, Your Highness."

"Cadance will be fine, please," Cadance said. "It's a pleasure to meet our unsung rescuer. You have our gratitude, even if we have nothing else to offer. And allow me to introduce my husband, Shining Armor."

Shining Armor nodded. "A pleasure."

Cadance's horn glowed violet as she lifted up from somewhere out of sight an infant alicorn, with a coat of white and a mane of pink and cyan. "And this is our daughter, Flurry Heart."

Flurry Heart gurgled happily, waving her little legs — and wings — in the air.

Sunset's eyes widened. "An infant alicorn?"

"Astonishing, isn't it?" Twilight said.

Sunset nodded. "Astonishing," she agreed, leaning forwards closer to the baby. "And so cute too! Who is? You are! Yes!"

"Sometimes, I don't think you know who you are in this world," Cinder said.

Everyone laughed, even little baby Flurry Heart, who reached out to grab Sunset by the nose.

The method by which Twilight had gotten the mirror working again full time was… well, it might not have impressed the other Twilight with the slapdashness of its appearance — a bellows pump here, a large tank there, glowing coils on either side of the mirror itself, wires and tubes and a lot of other things completely ruining the mirror’s aesthetic — but it got the job done.

“Since you’re here with your copy, we can’t use the journal that you use to communicate with me and Princess Celestia to find Remnant the way that I did last time,” Twilight explained. “So we’ll have to use your copy of the journal that you share with Ruby; then I’ll use our copy of your journal to direct the mirror once you’re back in Remnant and then send the Ruby journal through the portal to you.”

“I’ll try and catch it as it comes out,” Sunset said dryly. She turned to Cinder and Cardin, standing behind her. Cinder carried the spear that Princess Celestia had given her in one hand; Cardin wore his saddlebags across his back. “This is it,” Sunset said. “Are you both ready?”

“Oh, God, yes,” Cardin said emphatically. “Although… this is safe, isn’t it?”

“It’s safer than jumping into a wild portal to get here in the first place,” Sunset said. Or at least no more dangerous.

“And I’m going to get my clothes back on the other side, right?” Cardin asked. “Because I really don’t want to show up in Atlas naked.”

“Nobody wants that, don’t worry,” Cinder murmured.

“We will all get our clothes back exactly as we were wearing when we entered the other portal,” Sunset promised. “That’s just how it works.”

“Okay,” Cardin said. “But if we get arrested for indecent exposure, I am putting all the blame on you.”

“And I will accept it,” Sunset said. “Cinder, are you ready?”

Cinder twirled Daybreak deftly in one hand. “Absolutely,” she said. “Although I am forced to wonder why this spear shouldn’t change in transit into… something else.”

“I think that the magic in it will prevent its transformation,” Twilight said.

“You think?”

“This isn’t a field of study with a lot of data to go on,” Twilight offered weakly. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure that Princess Celestia wouldn’t give you anything that was going to become absolutely useless,” Sunset said.

“Indeed, one would hope not,” Princess Celestia said as she stepped into the mirror chamber.

“Princess,” Sunset said.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?” Princess Celestia asked, with a smile upon her face.

Sunset hesitated. “I… I didn’t want to presume.”

Princess Celestia chuckled. “Come here,” she urged. “Let me hug you, one last time before you go.”

Sunset smiled in turn and trotted forward until she stood under the shadow Princess Celestia. She felt the princess descend upon her, felt the warmth of her neck on Sunset’s back, felt the softness of her feathers, felt the safety of her embrace.

The safety that she would now leave behind once again.

“Fare you well,” Princess Celestia whispered. “My daughter. Take care of yourself.”

“I will, Mother,” Sunset whispered in return. “I will survive, and I will be victorious, and I will bring all my other friends to visit here.”

“I would like that very much,” Celestia replied, raising her head and releasing Sunset. She closed her magenta eyes for a moment. “I will miss you, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset could not meet her gaze. “I’ll miss you too,” she whispered.

“Cinder Fall, Cardin Winchester,” Princess Celestia said, her voice growing louder. “Go with my blessing, and all good fortune attend you in your enterprises.”

Cinder bowed. “We thank you humbly, Princess, and shall, in all respects — deeds, bearing, words, and character — prove worthy of your faith in us.”

Sunset looked at Twilight. “It’s time.”

Twilight’s horn glowed, and she lifted the magical journal up into the air, placing it atop the brass shelf, between two metal conductors. Instantly, the book began to glow, the sun and the rose emblazoned on the cover shining with a brilliant light, a light of white and lavender intermingled, bursting out like a star until the rest of the book was hidden from view. The journal rose into the air, and as it rose, light sparked off it like lightning, striking the hodgepodge construction built around the mirror, spreading through the wires and the tubes, illuminating the panels, making various bits and pieces thrum and move, pistons rising and falling, wheels spinning, magic spreading across the device until, at last, the sparks of magic struck the mirror itself.

There was a flash so bright that Sunset had to shield her eyes. When she opened them again and uncovered her face, she could see that the mirror’s surface had been replaced by a swirling vortex of pink.

Just as it had been so long ago.

Sunset stepped forward. Her saddlebags felt very heavy upon her.

Coming here had been the best decision that she had made in recent times, and now, she was leaving again.

She could do nothing else.

And yet, it wrenched her now far more than her first departure had.

Sunset forced herself to walk forward, placing one hoof upon the raised pedestal on which the mirror sat. She looked back at Twilight and Celestia.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

Twilight smiled encouragingly. Princess Celestia nodded. Was that a tear in her eye? Sunset found she didn’t really want to know.

She looked forward once more. The vortex was before her. Remnant was before her.

Her many tasks were before her, each one harder than the last.

Then best get started, eh?

Sunset took a deep breath. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Professor,” she murmured.

And then she stepped into the waiting portal and was lost to the sight of ponies.

A Lot to Catch Up On: Part One

A Lot to Catch Up On, Part One

Sunset stumbled out of the portal and fell, face-first, onto the stone of the courtyard before Canterlot Combat School.

“That’s the same as it was last time,” she groaned, as she rose awkwardly to her feet, her arms — the arms that she had back again, hopefully they wouldn’t take so long to get used to this time around — swaying from side to side as she got up. It was night here in Remnant, and Sunset had to blink a few times to get her eyes accustomed to the darkness. Still, she could see the hand that she was holding up in front of her face. “Fingers,” she said. She wiggled her toes inside of her boots, bumping against the hardened footwear that confined them. “Toes.” She threw back her head and ran both hands through her hair – her hair now, and not her mane; she had hair again – until they touched her equine ears. “Four ears. Again.” She held out one arm and then pumped it, making a fist with one hand as she felt around her muscles with her other hand. Hopefully coming back as an alicorn would make some difference… no, no, it hadn’t. “I was kind of hoping that with that new strength, I’d come back toned like Pyrrha,” Sunset muttered. She sighed. “Looks like I’m just like I was before. On the outside, anyway.”

At least I’m feeling better about myself now.

“Sunset!?” Ciel yelled, making Sunset’s ears prick up with the volume.

And with the awareness that someone had been standing behind her this whole time.

Well, it could be worse.

Sunset turned around. It was indeed Ciel Soleil, together with a guy she didn’t know. So, yes, Ciel had heard Sunset confess that she wanted muscles like Pyrrha.

Could be worse; could have been Rainbow Dash.

“Oh, hey, Ciel,” Sunset said, trying to sound casual. As casual as one can be when one has just stumbled out of a magical portal, in any case. The effect was somewhat ruined by a nervous laugh that escaped her throat. “So,” she said, “who’s the guy?”

Ciel — and the guy — both stared at her with wide eyes. “How?” Ciel managed to say. “Where did—?”

“It’s a long story, which I would prefer to tell only once,” Sunset replied. “So if you could let General Ironwood know that I’m here and that I’d like to make an appointment, that would be very much appreciated.”

“'General Ironwood'?” the guy asked. “But … wait a second, you’re Sunset Shimmer, aren’t you?”

Sunset folded her arms. “I will not be signing autographs at this time, thank you,” she said. She smirked.

The guy’s eyes narrowed. Ciel opened her mouth to say something.

She didn’t get the chance to say it before Sunset saw a flash of light from the portal reflected upon the faces of Ciel and the guy.

Sunset looked around in time to see Cinder come flying out of the base of the statue, hurled eight feet across the courtyard before hitting the stone with a thump and an impact which was not hard enough to stop her from rolling another few feet, stopping pretty much at the steps that led up into the main school building.

Cinder lay there for a moment, looking up at the stars and the moon above their heads.

“You know, I think I prefer your moon,” she declared. “Ours is … rather unsettling, when you stop and think about it.”

Sunset folded her arms. “Well, that was a full ten points,” she declared tartly. “Did you jump through?”

Cinder sat up. “Of course I jumped through; who steps calmly through a magical portal?”

“I did,” Sunset pointed out.

“And where was the fun in it?” Cinder asked. She leapt lightly up to her feet in a single fluid motion. “Now—”

“Stop right there!” Ciel cried, her voice cracking like a whip. While Sunset hadn’t been looking, she’d pulled a pistol out of her purse, and she now had it pointed at Cinder. “Get your hands where I can see them!”

“Ciel, wait!” Sunset shouted, stepping between Ciel and Cinder. “I know what this looks like—”

“It looks like Cinder Fall!” Ciel snarled.

“And it is,” Sunset allowed. “But she’s on our side now. She’s with me.”

“You will forgive me if that doesn’t inspire a great deal of confidence,” Ciel muttered.

“Oh, come on!” Sunset snapped, her ears flattening at the implication. “That is plain out of line and you know it!”

“What is going on here?” the guy asked.

“Thunderlane, call Penny,” Ciel instructed. “Tell her to get down here right away.”

“What’s Penny doing in Canterlot?” Sunset asked. “What are you doing in Canterlot, and can you please put that gun away?”

“Step aside, Sunset,” Ciel commanded her. “Step aside, so that I can take Cinder Fall into custody.”

Sunset inhaled and exhaled through her nostrils. “I can’t let you do that.” She owed Cinder too much to let that happen. “If you will just let me explain—”

Cardin emerged from the portal, staggering a few steps before sinking to his knees, his hands upon the ground. He remained that way for a few seconds, looking down at his hands where they touched the earth in front of him, before he bowed his head and kissed the very ground on which he knelt, the stones of Canterlot courtyard.

“Yes!” he yelled, rearing up and raising his arms into the air. “Yes! Human again! God, it feels good to have hands!”

Cardin got up, turned around, and saw what was unfolding. He groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Oh, great,” he muttered. “How long have you been back, and you’re already … this? Whatever this is?”

“I’m handling it,” Sunset said defensively.

“You’ve got a gun pointed in your face; how is that handling anything?” Cardin demanded. He walked forwards until he stood at Sunset’s side. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Cardin Winchester; I am a captain in the Valish Corps of Specialists—”

“Vale has a Corps of Specialists?” the guy asked.

“We’re very new,” Cardin admitted. “But I have my ID — good thing our clothes and gear came back, huh — on my scroll which will prove that I have a commission from the Committee of Public Safety—”

“Excuse me?” Ciel said.

“The Council has rebranded itself,” Cardin explained. “The new name tested better in focus groups. Apparently ‘Council’ seems remote and inactive or something. I don’t really understand it; anyway, the point is—” He pulled his scroll out of the breast pocket of his long, green overcoat, snapping it open and scrolling through to his ID. “Here, just like I said.”

Ciel kept her weapon trained on Sunset as she read the ID on Cardin’s scroll. “Captain Winchester,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, I remember that name.”

“Unfortunately?” Cardin asked. “What do you…” he groaned. “You were one of Team Rosepetal, weren’t you?”

“I had that honour,” Ciel said.

“Look, I know that what I said to Blake was bad, but I’ve changed a lot since then and if you were one of Team Rosepetal then why were you about to shoot at Sunset?”

“Sunset,” Ciel declared, her voice full of asperity, “chose to put herself between me and the target I was aiming at.”

Cardin hesitated. “Ah, right, the Cinder thing. Look, I know that I wasn’t around for any of the—”

Sunset cleared her throat before Cardin could say anything indiscreet in front of the ‘the guy,’ or Thunderlane, which was apparently his name, but Sunset had kind of gotten used to thinking of him as ‘the guy’ by now, and it wasn’t as if they’d been formally introduced.

“The point is,” Sunset explained. “Vale is desperate, and Cinder wanted to help, so … she’s helping.”

“You couldn’t have told her that in the first place?” Cardin asked. “She isn’t going to just get a pass because she’s with you.”

Ciel’s eyes narrowed, but at the same time her pistol lowered fractionally. “And you trust her?” she asked.

“With my life,” Sunset said.

“And what of our lives?” Ciel demanded. “For that matter, why should I trust you?”

“And if you’re really from Vale, then how did you come out of a statue like that?” Thunderlane cried.

“Because of a closely-guarded secret, Lieutenant, one which was not meant to be casually discovered by just anyone,” Principal Celestia said as she emerged from out of the school. Vice Principal Luna was by her side, trailing behind her ever so slightly. Principal Celestia looked at Sunset, a slight smile playing across her features. “Welcome back, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset bowed her head. “Ma’am.”

“It appears it was a good thing we decided to work late tonight,” Vice Principal Luna remarked. “It also appears that you have put us to some trouble.”

“And it appears that you both knew more than you ever let on to me,” Sunset replied.

Principal Celestia chuckled. “Something that we can discuss after some of the more pressing outstanding issues have been dealt with, perhaps,” she suggested. “For now, why don’t you come inside? This is hardly something that should be discussed out in the open air.”

“Indeed,” Vice Principal Luna said. “Who knows who else may randomly happen upon us otherwise? Specialist, please put down your weapon. I assure you that there is no need of it. If there is any danger from anyone here, then I am adequate to the task of dealing with it.”

“Is that so?” Cinder murmured.

If Vice Principal Luna heard it, then she did not deign to respond.

“Penny should be here for this,” Ciel said.

“Then call her and have her come here,” Vice Principal Luna said. “Then you should all come inside.”

Ciel turned away, putting her gun back into her purse and taking out her scroll. Cardin, Cinder, and Thunderlane — the latter still with an unfortunately suspicious look on his face — began to make their way into the school, but Sunset lingered outside.

“Sunset?” Cinder asked, Daybreak resting upon her shoulder.

“I’ll catch up,” Sunset murmured. “With Ciel.”

Principal Celestia nodded. “Luna, take the others into the staff common room, please. I’ll wait in the hall for Sunset and Specialist Soleil.”

“Very well,” Vice Principal Luna said. “Come along then, everyone.”

The others went inside. Principal Celestia also entered the building, although unlike the others, Sunset could see her lingering in the hall for when the two of them were done.

Still, she was giving them a little privacy, at least.

Sunset thrust her hands into her pockets as Ciel walked away from her, flicking through the contacts on her scroll with her thumb.

She must have decided to call Penny voice only, because no image appeared on her screen, only Penny’s voice emerging from the device. “Ciel? Why are you calling me? Is everything alright?”

“Penny, I need you to come to Canterlot Combat School immediately,” Ciel said.

“Why?”

“Just come at once,” Ciel said, her voice sounding a little sharp. She took a deep breath. “My apologies; I did not mean to snap at you. Please, come at once.”

She hung up and put the scroll back in her purse.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t,” Sunset said, “until my actions show the proof, one way or another.”

Ciel turned around. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“You asked me how you could trust me,” Sunset explained, “and there are answers that I could give to that. I could point out that Professor Ozpin trusted me, and that even Professor Goodwitch trusted me, after a fashion, with a mission of importance. I could tell you that I’m not the same person that I was before. I could beg for your forgiveness. I could tell you that if we don’t work together, Salem will kill us all and that therefore we should put old grudges aside. I could tell you that I could have stayed at home and lived out the rest of my days in the lap of luxury as a princess in a shining palace, but I didn’t; I came back to help Penny and Rainbow and Blake and Jaune and Penny, to help all of Remnant; that’s why I’m here; there’s no reason for me to be here otherwise.

“So many words that I could say, if I wanted to. But none of them would really convince you, and some of them I really don’t want to say; I’ve had enough of begging for people to forgive me or to trust that I’ve changed. So … don’t trust me, if you don’t want to. Watch me like a hawk. Aim a gun at my back. But while you watch, you’ll see that I’m trying to do the right thing.”

Ciel was silent for a moment. “I believe that you have always tried to do the right thing, by your lights,” she said softly. “That was the problem. And I have judged you by what you did. What else should I have judged you on?”

“What I do next?” Sunset suggested. “Or not. It doesn’t really matter, so long as you don’t actually shoot me. Or are you going to get that gun out of your purse again?”

“No,” Ciel replied. “Although Thunderlane is right, you are far from home, and would be far from home even if your coming here were more conventional.”

“All will be revealed, in time,” Sunset said. “I’d rather only explain this once, but—”

“No, you will explain to me,” Ciel declared. “And I will decide if what you have to say is worth bringing to the attention of the General.”

“You know, I’m kind of regretting that you and I never had any heart to heart time when you were at Beacon,” Sunset opined. “Of all the members of Team Rosepetal, you’re the only one I never gave any cause to like me.” She hesitated a moment, scuffing one foot back and forth across the stone. “So,” she said, “who is the guy?”

“Lieutenant Thunderlane,” Ciel said. “He’s a pilot.”

“And your boyfriend?”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

“Congratulations,” Sunset said. “So what brings you and Penny to Canterlot?”

“We’re selling bonds to raise money for the military,” Ciel said.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Come again?”

“Penny ‘Dragonslayer’ is a hero,” Ciel said. “We are … leveraging her fame to encourage the good and patriotic people of Atlas to invest their lien in the defence of the kingdom.”

“Isn’t this the richest kingdom in Remnant?” Sunset asked. “Why do you have to go cap in hand to ordinary folks to fund the military? What happened to all the rest of your money?”

“The Battle of Vale happened,” Ciel pointed out.

“Good point,” Sunset acknowledged. “So what’s been happening in Atlas?”

“A great many things,” Ciel said. “But perhaps it would be best for you to hear them only once.”

Sunset didn’t respond to that. She said, “So, how long do you think it will take—”

“SALUTATIONS!”

There was a copper-coloured blur on the edge of Sunset’s vision before something tackled her off her feet and bore her to the ground.

The crash onto the stone didn’t harm her aura so much as the bone-crushing hug in which she found herself enveloped.

Nevertheless, Sunset smiled. “Hi, Penny,” she said. “I missed you too.”

Penny’s eyes were wide and her smile was bright as she picked Sunset up and set her back upon her feet. “I can’t believe you’re here! How are you here? How did you get to Solitas? How did you get to Canterlot? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this? Is Ruby with you?”

“On the last one, no,” Sunset said. “Although I do have some big news about Ruby. On the other questions … well, if you’ll come inside with me and Ciel, then everything will be revealed.”

Penny nodded, but then her eyes flicked to the statue and the mirror set within the plinth, and her eyes seemed to grow even wider. “Did you come from Equestria?”

“'Equestria'?” Ciel repeated. “What or where is Equestria?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Sunset promised. “Come on, Penny. Oh, and by the way, Cinder is with me, so don’t shoot her.”

“Cinder?” Penny repeated, her voice draining of a lot of its enthusiasm. “What’s she doing here?”

“Helping me,” Sunset said evenly. “I wouldn’t be here without her. Also, working for the Kingdom of Vale, as apparently I should have brought up the first time.”

“That may be true,” Ciel admitted.

Penny was silent for a moment. “Do you trust her?”

“I do,” Sunset said. “Are you going to ask me if I can be trusted?”

Penny smiled. “I trust you, Sunset,” she said. “So, can you tell me what you’re doing here now?”

“In just a second,” Sunset replied, relieved that Penny, at least, was glad to see her. “Come inside; I’ll tell you and Ciel everything.”

Penny nodded eagerly. “Wait, what about Thunderlane?”

“He will be learning all of this as well,” Ciel said.

“Really? Is that allowed?”

“It is rather unavoidable at this stage,” Ciel muttered.

“You don’t sound very happy about it,” Penny pointed out.

“It is … somewhat less than ideal,” Ciel declared.

The three of them went inside, where Principal Celestia was waiting for them in the hall. She guided them through the dark corridors of the otherwise empty school, until they reached the teachers’ common room. It was not particularly large, but as far as rooms went, it was probably the best one that they could have chosen: it was large enough to seat everyone in reasonable comfort, and there was a coffee machine sitting on a little table against the wall.

When Sunset walked in, Thunderlane was sitting on the other side of the room from Cinder and Cardin, regarding them — Cinder, in particular — with suspicion. Vice Principal Luna was sitting in between them, like a keeper of the peace.

Ciel took a seat next to Thunderlane. Sunset sat down next to Cinder. Penny hesitated for a few moments, before choosing to sit next to Sunset.

“I haven’t seen her for a while,” she explained, a tad sheepishly.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Penny,” Ciel replied, sounding in a bit of a huff nevertheless.

“I hope you’re all settled in comfortably,” Principal Celestia said as she shut the door behind them. “I have no idea how long this will take.” She pulled up a chair and sat down next to her sister. “Sunset, would you like to begin?”

The corners of Sunset’s lips pricked upwards ever so slightly. “I almost think that you might begin, ma’am, so that I can know just how much you know.”

Principal Celestia smiled back at her. “Very well, Sunset. Although I’m afraid that this will only be news to the lieutenant and to Specialist Soleil.” It was upon them that she turned her gaze and full attention. “The plinth upon which the Wondercolt statue sits is not just the support for a statue. It is, as you unfortunately saw tonight, a magical portal to another world.”

“Magic?” Thunderlane repeated. “A magical portal?”

“All of this is strictly classified, of course,” Vice Principal Luna added.

“Magic?” Thunderlane said again. “Ciel, do you believe this?”

“We did just see Sunset and the others emerge as if from out of the stone itself,” Ciel said quietly.

“I know, but … magic?” Thunderlane said.

“Would you prefer it if we said that the plinth has a semblance?” Sunset suggested, with just a touch of acid on her tongue.

Ciel growled wordlessly.

“And you … you knew about this?” Thunderlane demanded of the principal and vice principal. “You knew?”

“The high command is aware,” Vice Principal Luna said. “And so we are made aware, and one of our duties is to prevent people from stumbling through the portal and ending up marooned on the other side.”

Thunderlane opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but then stopped. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Lieutenant?” Principal Celestia said.

“If it’s classified, you shouldn’t say anything,” Thunderlane pointed out.

“And leave your questions unaddressed?” Vice Principal Luna pointed out.

“Someone much higher than me decided that this was on a need to know basis,” Thunderlane said, “and I don’t need to know.”

“Just like that?” Sunset asked. “It’s that simple?”

Thunderlane rose to his feet. “I’m not a complicated person,” he said. “I trust the government, I trust the General, I trust that there are smart people in high-up rooms with lots of information making smart decisions. That’s how I sleep at night. I don’t need to second guess those people. I don’t need to know everything that they know. I just need to know that they know enough, and I need to know what they want me to know and what they want me to do so that I can do it to the best of my ability. If the people who are paid to know about this stuff know about it, then … then that’s all I need to know. If the people who are paid to make these decisions think that you and yours are free to walk around then … then I guess that’s fine with me as well.” He turned to Principal Celestia. “I would salute you, ma’am, but you’re not in uniform. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be going.”

Principal Celestia nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I hope we can count on your discretion.”

“You can count on me following orders, ma’am,” Thunderlane declared. He didn’t look at Sunset or the others as he approached the common room door. He opened it, stepped halfway through, then turned to look at Ciel. “Ciel?”

Ciel looked away. “I … I have clearance,” she muttered.

Thunderlane frowned. “Then why do you sound embarrassed about it?”

Ciel blinked rapidly. “Because … because it feels as though I’m shutting you out.”

“The structure is shutting me out,” Thunderlane corrected her. “And that’s fine. That’s what it’s there for, to shut out flyboys like me and stop them bugging smart cookies like you.” He winked at her. “But I’ll still see you back at the motel, right?”

Ciel smiled. “Indeed,” she said. “And soon, I hope.”

“Take as long as you need; the future of Atlas might be at stake,” he said. He was still smiling as he closed the door behind him.

Sunset folded her arms. “Okay, I can see why you like him.”

Ciel did not smile. “He lost both his legs in the Battle of Vale,” she said, glaring at Cinder.

“That was not my doing,” Cinder said.

“You set all of this in motion!” Ciel hissed.

Sunset held up one hand. “Before we forget ourselves, perhaps we should remember—”

“We are as aware of Salem as we are of Equestria, if that is what you were wondering, Sunset Shimmer,” Vice Principal Luna said.

Sunset stared at them both. “Oh. Okay, well I’d rather that Cinder and Ciel didn’t get into an argument, so let’s keep everyone distracted by asking the follow up question: you’re members of Professor Ozpin’s group?”

Principal Celestia nodded. “Like you, and like Team Stark, our contemporaries at Beacon, we were recruited by Professor Ozpin when we were students.”

“And as I was an Atlesian, Professor Ozpin — and General Lafayette, the Headmaster at that time — selected me to become the Winter Maiden when my predecessor fell ill,” Vice Principal Luna said, and for a moment, her blue eyes burned with cold blue flames, a burning wintry corona dancing above her skin.

Cinder smirked. “Now I see why you were so confident that you could handle me. For a moment there, I was insulted.”

The fire died around Vice Principal Luna’s eyes. “Canterlot is the traditional post of the Winter Maiden,” she went on.

“Thanks to its historic connection to the Lady of the North,” Ciel said.

“Indeed, and simply the fact that it is an out of the way sort of place, and Professor Ozpin has always been keener to keep the Maidens safe than to make use of them,” Vice Principal Luna muttered.

“Robbing the world of its light,” Sunset said softly.

“Sunset?” Principal Celestia asked.

Sunset shook her head. “An argument we had,” she said. “The Maidens were created to bring hope to the world, but Professor Ozpin’s strategy took that hope away and locked it up where no one could find it. I understand why, but I still don’t agree with it.”

“In that, Sunset Shimmer, we are one,” Vice Principal Luna remarked.

“And so, the Winter Maiden is also told about this magical portal?” Ciel asked.

“The Principal of Canterlot Combat School is told, by tradition,” Celestia said. “I shared the knowledge with my sister, as she shared the knowledge with me that she is the Winter Maiden. Together, we can share our tasks of keeping the Maiden powers out of the wrong hands, defending Canterlot, and keeping the portal secret.” She chuckled. “And teaching the children, of course.”

“Why must the portal be kept secret?” asked Ciel.

“Everything else is,” Cardin pointed out. “The answer probably has something to do with people being scared.”

“It is as good a reason as any, don’t you think?” Principal Celestia said.

“For my part, I am not sure I would want Atlas to know that there is another world that they could exploit to their hearts’ content,” Sunset admitted.

“Meaning?” Ciel demanded.

“Meaning that this is the kingdom that produced the SDC, and which squeezed Vacuo like a sponge until they’d wrung every last drop out of it and left it dry as desert,” Sunset replied. “I know that there are many good, brave people in Atlas, and I happen to count some of them among my friends; but I also know that there are a great many money-grubbing bigoted xenophobes who would sell their own mothers for a five-lien card, let alone another race. I will not have the faces of my people branded as … as some faunus have been.”

Ciel bit her lip. “Yes, well … I suppose … your people? You are a faunus … aren’t you?”

Sunset glanced at Penny. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I thought you didn’t want me too,” Penny said.

“You told Rainbow Dash,” Sunset pointed out.

“Yes, but you and Rainbow seemed to be getting on so well by then,” Penny said.

Sunset snorted. “Well, thank you for trying to respect my privacy, at least,” she said. “Okay, where to start with this again.” She ran one hand through her hair. “I tell you this because I trust you,” she said. “Even if you don’t trust me. The portal leads to another world, a magical world called Equestria. And it is my home. I came to Remnant through this portal.” She looked at Principal Celestia. “Which you were aware of the entire time.”

“Did you never wonder that you found it so easy to acquire identification and all the documents you needed to survive here?” Principal Celestia asked.

“No, I just thanked my good fortune,” Sunset admitted.

“Once we realised what you were, we kept an eye on you,” Principal Celestia said, “but we also made it possible for you to live.”

“You could have just sent me back,” Sunset pointed out.

“Without knowing why you had left?” Principal Celestia replied. “When you might have faced punishment or persecution on your return? That would have been rather cruel, don’t you think?”

“I think that you were kinder to me than I deserved,” Sunset said. “Especially after what I tried to do to Twilight and her friends.” She looked down at her knees, and then back up at Principal Celestia. “It seems that without you … even had I survived, I would never have made it to Beacon. I owe you … everything.” It seems there’s always a Celestia looking out for me. She stood up, and bowed. “Thank you, ma’am. Without your assistance, I would never have—”

“Found your place?” Principal Celestia suggested.

Sunset looked up at her. “Indeed, ma’am.”

“I hoped you would, as I told you when you were here last,” Principal Celestia said. “Something that I hope for all my students, but especially those who are so clearly lost as you were. Although I am sorry that the path ahead has not been as easy as you imagined, nevertheless, you should be proud: not all students are admitted into Professor Ozpin’s circle of knowledge.”

“I am sorry to harp on this, but it bears repeating: you are an alien?” Ciel demanded. “You are … from another world?”

“Yes,” Sunset said, sitting down once more.

“That explains your magic, at least,” Ciel murmured. She looked at Penny. “And you knew about this.”

“I’ve been there!” Penny cried. “Sunset arranged for me to go through the portal, and I’m so glad that I can finally tell you—”

“'Finally'?” Ciel repeated. “When was this?”

“Before the Vytal Festival,” Penny said. “I was feeling down after I got injured, and Sunset talked to Princess Twilight— how is she, by the way?”

“Doing very well, thank you for asking,” Sunset said. “She told me to say hi on her behalf. I’ll tell her you’re a big hero now; she’ll be very impressed.”

“Princess Twilight?” Ciel said.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “One of the … unusual features of the link between our worlds is that we all have a counterpart in the other world. So, in my world, Twilight Sparkle is a princess, and Celestia is the princess who rules over the whole kingdom, and Rainbow Dash is one of Equestria’s greatest heroes.”

“And … is there another Ciel Soleil?” Ciel asked, sounding uncertain of whether she wanted to know the answer or not.

“I don’t know for certain,” Sunset admitted, “but I don’t see why not.”

“One hardly knows whether to rejoice at the fact that she has not been so overtly more successful than I have that you could not escape her name, or to judge from the examples of Twilight and Rainbow that it is probably the case anyway,” murmured Ciel.

“It’s not that cut and dried,” Sunset assured her. “The Ruby and Pyrrha of my world are just ordinary members of the Royal Guard, unknown and unremarked upon.”

“To be a member of the guard is to perform a task both necessary and honourable,” Ciel declared. Her brow furrowed. “If it is so, should that not mean that there was already a Sunset Shimmer here in Remnant?”

“Yes, I had the dubious pleasure of her company,” Sunset admitted. “As I will explain shortly.”

“Mmm,” Ciel murmured. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing. “I … I am somewhat…” She looked at Penny, and then looked away. “Never mind. It does not matter. It is as God and the Lady have disposed of. So, you are from another world, but you have lived in ours for these six years past, your records extend back that far, and unless you mean to say that Cinder and Cardin are also—”

“No,” Sunset said. “They’re from Remnant.”

“Then how did you all come to be emerging through a portal from the other world?”

“And what does this have to do with Ruby?” Penny asked.

Sunset wondered where to begin. “Do you two know that Professor Ozpin comes back to life?”

“Professor Ozpin comes back to life?!” Penny cried.

“Okay, that’s a no,” Sunset said. “And a yes. Professor Ozpin is—”

“Cursed by the gods to know no rest until he vanquishes Salem,” Vice Principal Luna said. “As a result, his soul reincarnates into the body of a like-minded fellow soul who serves as his next host.”

“And that is who I have been tasked to find,” Sunset said. “By Professor Goodwitch, and by the ghost of Amber, who fears for him. At first I went to Ruby, to get help in that endeavour, but while I was with her, we were both attacked by a new kind of grimm.” She looked at Principal Celestia. “I don’t suppose that either of you know anything about a grimm that speaks? Or that can use magic?”

“It spoke to you?” Principal Celestia said, aghast.

“It used magic?” Vice Principal Luna repeated.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “On the road, we encountered three such grimm, all very powerful, all with a resilience that I have never encountered in any others of their kind. Silver eyes slowed them down but did not slay them; my magic … my magic could only hurt them when it was excessively powerful. The only reason we’re alive is that they seem to prefer commanding other grimm from a safe distance, like a general might, rather than fighting themselves.”

“That is also most un-grimm-like behaviour,” Vice Principal Luna said. “And news to me.”

“And me,” Principal Celestia added. “I will consult the books that we have in the library, but … if such unique grimm were known then they would be infamous. Huntsmen would have ensured they were documented.”

“If they survived,” Cinder pointed out.

“We survived,” Sunset reminded her.

“We’re uniquely talented,” Cinder declared. “Some of us, at least.”

“Thank you, ma’am, for looking into this for us; I appreciate it,” Sunset said. “These grimm must have been sent by Salem to go after us, because they pursued Ruby and I as — along with Cinder and Cardin and Ruby’s father — we set off across Sanus. Professor Ozpin is in Anima, at the village of Shion — or he was when Amber spoke to me — but we were worried that our purpose would be discovered if we took a boat, and so we set off across Sanus, hoping to find a boat on the farther coast.”

“That area has been abandoned since the Great War,” Ciel said.

“Abandoned by the kingdoms,” Sunset corrected her. “People survive there, tribes and clans and little villages, independent of one another — or they were. When we got there, we found that someone was in the process of uniting them. That someone … turned to be my alternate from this world. She had taken over the town of Freeport as its queen and was in the process of forging a kingdom east of the mountains.” She grinned at Ciel. “And you were worried the other you might be more accomplished.”

“Another kingdom,” Vice Principal Luna mused. “That might be … I am inclined to wish them luck.”

“They will need more than luck,” Sunset said. “What happened in Freeport is … the short version is that my other self is dead, and the leaders of two of the most powerful clans invited Ruby to be their queen, and she accepted.”

Silence fell in the common room like a bomb.

“Ruby … Ruby’s a queen?” Penny asked.

Sunset nodded. “The Rose Queen of Freeport and Estmorland.”

“That … that’s incredible!” Penny shrieked, clasping her hands together. “I’m so happy for her! What was it like? Did she wear a gown for her coronation? Was it like a fairytale?”

“She wore armour,” Sunset said, “but other than that, I suppose you could say that it was like a fairytale, what with a common country maid of no birth saving the kingdom and being invited to assume the throne of it. In two hundred years, if Beacon is rebuilt, they will probably study it in Fairytale class: the story of the Rose Queen.”

Or else, two hundred or more years from now, some sparkly-eyed fifteen year old will read The Song of Ruby out of a crumbling old book.

May fate decree it has a happy ending, that no older team leader or most puissant teammate need try to explain to her it isn’t meant as a guide to life.

May fate decree that all ends well, that she grow old and grey surrounded by silver-eyed descendants as the shadow of Salem is banished from the world.

Let me make it so, I beg of you.

“She saved the city?” Penny squeaked. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“There were a lot grimm; Ruby saved the city,” Sunset said flatly. “But now, she could use some help. That’s one of the things that I wanted to talk to General Ironwood about, to see if he could send some assistance to support Freeport and help get Estmorland on its feet. You see, besides working for Cardin, I am also an ambassador extraordinary and envoy plenipotentiary for the Kingdom of Estmorland, and I am empowered, by my queen, to negotiate mining rights for the dust deposits to be found east of the mountains.”

“With the SDC you so recently derided as exploitative,” Ciel said flatly.

“It is exploitative,” Sunset replied. “But who else has the resources to undertake such a task? Who else could Ruby turn to?”

“Ruby could mine the dust herself, like Blake’s parents,” Penny pointed out.

“What?”

“Much has happened here as well,” Ciel murmured. “As to the rest of the conversation you wished to have with the General—”

“The location of Professor Ozpin,” Sunset said. “And the question of what happens now.” She hesitated. “So, do I get to speak to him?”

Ciel was silent, looking at Sunset for a moment. “I … will make the call,” she said, getting up. “If you will excuse me.”

She walked to the door without a word, opening it quietly and closing it behind her nearly as softly.

Sunset looked at Penny, “So, I hear that you’re a big hero now, Penny Dragonslayer.”

Penny smiled. “It’s … is it alright if I say it’s kind of fun?”

“Do we seem like the sort of people who demand humility?” Cinder asked.

Sunset laughed. “What Cinder is trying to say is that you have a right to this. You earned your triumph in Vale, and all of the acclaim and glory that accompanies it. Take pride in it, take pleasure in it, revel in the light which shines on you like an eternal sunlight. I fear … at the risk of dampening the mood I fear it will not last forever, so best enjoy it while it lasts.”

“That does dampen the mood a little bit,” Penny admitted. “But it also sounds like good advice, so thank you. And how is everyone in Equestria? How’s Princess Twilight? How’s Princess Celestia?”

“Princess Twilight is very well,” Sunset said.

“As is Sunset’s mother,” Cinder added.

Sunset glanced at her. Cinder shrugged, but a smile played across her features nevertheless.

Penny blinked. “Sunset’s … mother?”

Sunset laughed nervously. “Princess Celestia and I … things were said that had gone unsaid for too long.”

Penny clasped her hands together over her heart. “That sounds wonderful.”

Sunset opened her mouth, but was prevented from saying anything else by Ciel bursting back into the room.

“General Ironwood wants to see you immediately,” she said. “Come with me, we fly at once.”

A Lot to Catch up On: Part Two

A Lot to Catch Up On, Part Two

The Skyray was still a way off from landing, but nonetheless, Cinder stood before the open doorway, the doorway that she had opened, looking out across the night sky.

By now, they were on approach to Atlas, and the first rays of dawn were beginning to peek tentatively over the mountains that surrounded the valley, but around them, the sky remained yet dark; it was still possible to see the stars set in the inky blackness like diamonds woven in the hair of some dark-haired beauty, and the moon and all its fragments gleamed silver yet overhead.

And into this darkness, Cinder looked, standing at the edge of the Skyray, with one hand resting upon the rail that ran above the doorway. A chill wind blew into the transport from outside and ran through her hair as it did so, making it stream out beside her like the banner of an army.

Sunset got up from her seat, leaving Cardin and Penny behind as she briskly crossed the Skyray to join Cinder at the door. She was not so eager to stand upon the very edge as Cinder seemed to be, but of the two of them, Sunset had a much better chance of surviving the fall, and so she stood there regardless, by Cinder’s side — the right-hand side, the side that didn’t involve having Cinder’s hair blown into her face — and looked at her.

“Is everything okay?”

Cinder didn’t look at her. She looked out, and down a little towards Atlas.

The shining kingdom was below them now; the airship was banking around as it made its final approach towards the city. Sunset had never seen it from this position before. It was not her first visit. Although she had spent most of her time in Canterlot, the city in the clouds was not completely new to her; she had visited here with Flash more than once while they were dating. And yet, she had never seen it like this. She had never joined Flash on the observation deck of any airship that had ferried them from Canterlot to Atlas, though he had asked her to, begged her to, more than once. She had been too cool for such things, plus she hadn’t wanted to run into Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle there, and so she had always refused, claiming to have better things to do … until he stopped asking.

She had spent time here, but she had never seen it from the air. Her curiosity had never been aroused. She had not wanted to see marvels that she could not possess for herself. She hadn’t wanted to see anything that would make her admit that these humans could create something to rival the Canterlot of Equestria.

It did not rival Canterlot, in her opinion; it didn’t even rival Cloudsdale, the more obvious comparison due to its airborne nature. It was too … modern, for her tastes; even from the air, that much was obvious to her — the fact that it was floating in the sky was a little bit of a giveaway there. The towers that gleamed under the moonlight were steel and glass, not stone or cloud; the lights shone too brightly from the power running through them, and when she had visited Atlas, Sunset had always found it both too bright and too noisy. It had always put her in mind of Manehattan, a place that Sunset had never cared for — visiting it with Princess Celestia had given her headaches, and not just from the atrocious accents of the inhabitants, but also from how terribly parvenu it was.

In Sunset’s opinion, it was very fitting that Jacques Schnee, who had married into the fortune of a self-made man having been left nothing by his own father, should call the kingdom of Atlas home, because Atlas as a kingdom was the very epitome of nouveau riche. It was brash, it was coarse, it wore its hat in the parlour, and it never tired of boasting about how successful it was — why, did you hear, I bought three railroads yesterday! It lacked the air of class and dignity that wafted up from Mistral’s streets, borne out of old antiquity; Atlas, as opposed to Mantle, was less than four-score years old, but the future belonged to them, and you had best not forget it.

The floating city was surrounded by warships; Sunset had never seen so many warships before, never in all her visits to Atlas proper. Truth to tell, she hadn’t even known that there were so many ships at Ironwood’s command. Some of them patrolled, moving in circles or in carefully prescribed patterns around the city and the valley that surrounded it, moving like animals patrolling their territory, sniffing out signs of intruders. Others, the majority as far as Sunset could tell, remained stationary, hovering in place like towers of defence.

And that was before one got into the actual towers of defence, which were quite new; Sunset didn’t recall them being here before. It was like small fragments of rock had been dug out of the earth and levitated up around the great chunk of rock upon which Atlas stood, forming a six-pointed star around it, and on those six small rocky mounds had been erected great guns, and bristling lesser weapons besides.

“I’ve never seen this,” Cinder murmured, without looking away.

“Cinder?”

“Atlas,” Cinder explained, her eyes still fixed upon the place itself. “I’ve never seen it.” She paused for a moment. Her voice was soft and filled with melancholy. “My mother died for this place, and I have never laid eyes on it before.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “And?” she asked. “What does it look like to your fresh eyes?”

“Rock and steel,” Cinder murmured. “Not worth a life.”

“It was for the lives that teem upon it that your mother died, not rock and steel,” Sunset said softly.

“And yet she died nevertheless,” Cinder replied. Her chest rose and fell. A sigh passed between her lips. “This city haunted my dreams,” she declared. “I never saw it, but nevertheless, it floated over me while I slept: the kingdom that took my mother away from me.”

Sunset reached out and tentatively placed a hand on Cinder’s shoulder. “Your mother was very brave.”

“I know,” Cinder said. “Yet I would rather have had a living mother than a brave one.”

Sunset nodded at that. “Are you … are you going to be okay? Being here, is it going to be … are you going to be okay?”

Now, at last, Cinder looked away from Atlas where it gleamed beneath them. The silvery moonlight shone upon her face, rendering her ethereal, a beauty fashioned out of starlight.

A smile crossed her painted lips before she leaned forward and kissed Sunset on the cheek.

“I still owe you a real kiss, but now doesn’t seem the time,” Cinder said, a little mirth returning to her voice. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass Penny, after all.” She chuckled at herself. “I’ll be fine. Atlas holds no terrors for me, nor does anyone who lives there.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sunset said.

“But thank you, regardless,” Cinder murmured. She turned her gaze outwards once more. “I am not an expert, I admit, but I think that might be the whole Atlesian fleet down there.”

“All of it?” Sunset asked.

“Perhaps not every last ship,” Cinder conceded. “But I find it hard to believe that there can be many left once all those there are subtracted from the total.”

“Hmm,” Sunset murmured. She started to count them all. “I suppose … where else should the Atlesian fleet be except Atlas?”

“Protecting the world, as they so often say they will?” Cinder suggested.

“That assumes the rest of the world wants their protection,” Sunset said.

“They haven’t always waited for permission, have they?” Cinder asked. “Did Vale want Atlesian protection?”

“It was glad of it in the end, and gave its permission.”

“Grudgingly.”

“What’s your point?” Sunset asked.

Now it was Cinder’s turn to frown. “You know as well as I do that fear can make a person do many things, even things of which they are not proud … things which their nobler natures would despise, things that make them sick to their stomachs … things of which they are ashamed, and yet which they see no way of avoiding.”

Sunset’s free hand curled up, as though she were holding a trigger. “You are correct, but what of it?”

“What is this but the actions of a fearful man?” Cinder asked quietly. “One who has gathered all his armies and his weapons around him so that they can keep him safe—”

“Keep Atlas safe,” Sunset countered. “Keep the people safe.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “What if he won’t help you?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “What if he won’t help Ruby?”

Sunset was silent for a moment. “Would it bother you, if he did not?”

Cinder took a moment of her own to reply. “I…” One corner of her lips twitched. “I know that she matters to you, in spite of everything that she’s done.”

Sunset wrinkled her nose. Her brow furrowed for the briefest span of time. “What she did—”

“Cruelty,” Cinder pronounced. “There is no other word.”

“She was in pain.”

“And she inflicted that pain on you in turn,” Cinder said. “Just as Phoebe inflicted upon me every humiliation that Pyrrha dealt her.”

“Ruby is not your stepsister!” Sunset hissed. “I—”

“Deserved it?” Cinder suggested. “Many who suffer come to believe it so.”

“I am not having this discussion,” Sunset said firmly. “Not with you, not with anyone else. Ruby is … you’re wrong.”

Cinder stared down at her, her face expressionless and, in its lack of expression, inscrutable. “For what she has done, a part of me would like to leave her to rot in Freeport and never look back, nor speak of her again,” she admitted. “Being who I am, and what I have been, I cannot be wholly without sympathy for someone who has turned to anger after loss; indeed, I would ordinarily say it is far better to be angry about such things than to be sad, and to admit the anger and to use it … save for what she did with the anger that she felt, and against whom she turned it. But I ask, primarily, because you care, because you have come here to seek help for Ruby. And so I ask again: what will you do if General Ironwood will give you no aid?”

“Why would he summon me here in such haste if he wasn’t willing to help?” Sunset asked in reply.

“The fact that he’s willing to hear you out doesn’t mean that he’ll be willing to do anything for Ruby or her new subjects in Freeport. What if he is too afraid to part with his ships or his forces?”

Sunset grinned. “Then I’ll lift his spirits with my Princess of Hope powers until he is willing to do whatever it takes to help Ruby.”

Cinder raised one eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” Sunset said. “Well, somewhat serious; this crown has to be good for something, don’t you think?” She paused. “You’re right, of course; fear drives us to ill choices, but it is my charge to dispel such fear, to banish darkness from the hearts of men.”

“Loftily spoken,” Cinder purred. The smirk that appeared on her face lit up her eyes. “Some might call it pretentious.”

“More pretentious than calling myself ‘Princess of Hope’?”

Cinder snorted. “Good point. Are you actually going to name yourself that?”

“No,” Sunset said. “I thought I’d just act like it.”

“Because it sounds pretentious?”

“Because I don’t need people to call me princess,” Sunset replied. “I just need them to be better, so we can save the world.”

“Have you had any ideas on that front yet?”

“No more than before.”

“Are you going to mention telling the world about Salem to Ironwood?”

“That depends,” Sunset murmured. “It might be better to wait until we find Ozpin and see what he thinks.”

“I can guess,” Cinder replied. “I doubt he’ll be amenable to the notion.”

“Perhaps not, but do I want to seem like I’m sneaking around behind his back?” Sunset asked. “What do you think of the idea?”

“I think it’s a risk,” Cinder said. “If you tell people about the existence of the Maidens, for one, there will be those — like me — who covet the power that they possess; there will be those — like Lionheart — who will align with Salem out of a sense of their own preservation. People will be scared, as you well know, or you wouldn’t feel the need to bolster the defences with Atlesian support.”

“But will not others rise to the occasion?” Sunset asked. “Like Jaune?”

“'Jaune'?” Cinder repeated.

“You don’t think Jaune rose to the occasion?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t use Pyrrha or Ruby as an example.”

“Pyrrha is the Pride and Glory of Mistral reborn; Ruby has the eyes of a warrior endowed from the gods themselves,” Sunset reminded her. “Everyone expects people like that to rise to the occasion of such times as these, but Jaune is just a man, from whom nothing was expected—”

“And from whom nothing was given.”

“Cinder! That was uncalled for.”

“You must let me have a little fun, Sunset.”

Sunset harrumphed. “My point is,” she declared, “that if he can do it, why not others? Perhaps that is where we should place our hope?”

“I thought that was you?”

Sunset snorted. “I need to have a quick word with Ciel.”

Cinder glanced to where Ciel sat beside Thunderlane in the Skyray’s cockpit. “I’m not sure she likes you.”

“It doesn’t matter; I still need a word with her,” Sunset said.

“Don’t worry; you can leave me alone,” Cinder promised. “I’m not going to throw myself out of the airship the moment you turn away.”

“That wasn’t what I thought,” Sunset assured her.

“No?” Cinder asked. “Well, I’m sure you’re glad to know it anyway.”

Sunset took a step back and then turned away. As she entered the cockpit, she glanced back to see that Cinder had her eyes once more fixed upon Atlas.

May you have sweeter dreams from now on.

Sunset stepped the rest of the way into the cockpit, resting one hand upon the back of Ciel’s chair. “We’re not going to have any more trouble, are we?”

Ciel looked up at her. “Meaning?”

“I mean nobody’s going to try and arrest Cinder on the docking pad,” Sunset said sharply. “Or me, for that matter.”

Ciel took a deep breath. “No,” she said. “Once we land, you will be met on the docking pad and escorted into the General’s presence to give your report.”

Sunset nodded. That was good enough for her; she and Ciel might not have had the opportunity to become close that she had had with the other Rosepetals, but she trusted that the straight-laced Atlesian was a woman of her word and not the sort who would lead her into a trap.

“Will I find out what’s going on here, as well?”

“That depends,” Ciel said. “I cannot say what General Ironwood will choose to disclose to you.”

Sunset did not reply directly to that, but rather said, “Those floating islands are new. So is this build-up, for that matter.”

“With the CCT down, it would be impossible to coordinate our forces across distant stations,” Ciel explained. “Gathering the fleet in one place until worldwide communication is restored is the sound strategy.”

“Perhaps,” Sunset conceded. “If worldwide communication is ever going to be restored.”

Ciel smiled slightly. “I will let Blake tell you about that.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “And the big guns?”

“Each one should be able to take out a dragon,” Ciel said. “Theoretically. For obvious reasons, they haven’t been tested.”

“Why don’t you just mount them on ships?” Sunset asked. “Or on Atlas itself, for that matter?”

“The islands are more mobile,” Thunderlane said. “They can shift around to cover whatever direction the enemy is coming from; mounted on Atlas itself, they’d be restricted in their fields of fire.”

“Not to mention the question of room,” Ciel added.

Sunset nodded. That made sense. “And ships?”

There was no response from either of them, which made Sunset think that more of these great guns were being put on ships, but that neither of them wanted to admit it to her because it was ‘classified information’ until such time as the behemoths themselves actually took to the skies. Well, let them keep their secrets then; after all, they had put Sunset’s mind at rest, giving good reasons for General Ironwood’s actions that militated against Cinder’s assertion that he was acting out of fear.

Of course, one could be afraid and still make strategic sense. Which would win out when Sunset spoke to him?

Right will win out. I will make sure of it.

If Cinder was right, this would be her first test in Remnant. Her first trial as the Princess of Hope, her first chance to earn the title that the Crusaders had bestowed upon her. Princess Twilight, Princess Celestia, Ruby, they all said that it suited her, that it was appropriate for her actions, but now … now, having come back to Remnant with a crown invisible burning upon her brow, now was the time to prove it. To prove herself.

Now was the time to see what a Princess of Hope could do.

Perhaps. It might be that she would arrive at General Ironwood’s office to find him genial and confident and full of enthusiasm, as bushy-tailed as any faunus was and eager to do all that it took to support the world.

It might be that he had all matters well in hand and required no assistance from her.

That would be good. That would be all for the best. That would be in everyone’s interests.

That would postpone her trial to a later date, and there was a part of Sunset that would rather get it over with.

She would see soon enough.

The Skyray began its final descent, swooping down upon Atlas like an owl returning to the nest after a successful hunt, a vole or field mouse clutched in its talons. Down upon the city, the airship descended, passing between the patrolling airships with their blinking lights, diving down towards Atlas Academy. Sunset had never been there, not even for an open day — she had always known that her destiny did not lie there — but there was no mistaking it: the highest tower in Atlas, rising up out of the very centre of the city, the monument to Atlesian greatness, to prowess technological and martial, erupting out of the ground like a lance seeking to pierce the heavens.

There was not much in the way of visible grounds; Sunset guessed that, unlike Beacon, everything was contained within a single building. That probably saved everyone a lot of walking — although it also probably meant a lot of time spent in elevator rides.

The fact that there was so little in the way of academy grounds meant that the docking pad on which Thunderlane descended was hard by the tower itself, overshadowed by it in a quite literal sense. Nevertheless, the neon blue lights that surrounded the docking pad illuminated not only the launchpad itself but also the reception committee that awaited them there. As the airship flew lower and lower, as they got closer and closer to the ground, Sunset could make out Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Blake … and Sun and Lady Nikos?

Sunset tightened her grip on the overhead rail as she leaned out of the airship for a better view. Lady Nikos? Was it … yes, it really was her; there was no mistaking it, not even from this height. Lady Nikos, Pyrrha’s mother, standing there at the edge of the docking pad looking up at her and the Skyray.

What was she doing here? Would there be news of Mistral as well as Atlas?

Had something happened to Pyrrha while Sunset frolicked in Equestria?

As soon as Thunderlane set the Skyray down upon the docking pad, Sunset leapt down out of it, without waiting for the ramp to descend, and ran across the black surface, the neon lights shining into her face, towards where Lady Nikos stood.

“My lady!” she cried as she came to a ragged halt before Pyrrha’s mother. Hastily, Sunset bowed her head. “My lady, what brings you so far north? Pyrrha, is she—?”

“Alive,” Lady Nikos declared. “And well. Thanks in no small part to you, Miss Shimmer.” A smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “It is good to see you again.”

A sigh of relief escaped from Sunset’s lips. “I am as glad to see you once more, my lady, as I am glad to hear the news you bear, although in truth I deserve—”

“My thanks,” Lady Nikos repeated. “Pyrrha has told me everything.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “'Everything'?” she repeated.

“All things, all that Professor Ozpin kept from so many, but confided in Pyrrha — and in you.”

Sunset swallowed. “I apologise for what must seem like deception—”

“I do not say this to rebuke you for what you did not say,” Lady Nikos informed her. “Any more than I rebuked Pyrrha for her silence. While I am not happy to learn that I have lived my life blindfolded and half asleep, that fault lies with Ozpin, not with you; you did not err by keeping his confidence as he requested. No, I say this not to rebuke you, but…” She trailed off.

Sunset frowned a little. “My lady, if it is too much to speak of—”

“I told you once, Miss Shimmer, that I gave strength to Mistral and kept none for myself,” Lady Nikos reminded her. “I suppose that Ozpin did her a kind of honour in choosing her, and yet, when I think of my only child, the last of my line, set in that dread machine … I owe you a debt, Miss Shimmer, one I fear that I cannot repay.”

“My Lady,” Sunset said. She fell to one knee, even as she reached up and grasped with one hand the hilt of Soteria. “Any debt was paid in advance when you bestowed this blade upon me. All I have done is as you bade me do, as a bearer of this blade should do with pride.”

“Rise, Miss … Rise, Sunset Shimmer; you have no need to bow to me.”

Sunset looked up. Sunset? Sunset Shimmer? Had Lady Nikos called her by her name?

“You do more honour to that sword,” Lady Nikos went on, “than was done to you by the gifting of it. Up, and on your feet.”

Sunset rose, slowly, but she rose up nevertheless.

Lady Nikos took a step closer to her and kissed her twice, once on each cheek; her lips were a little cracked and dry, but gentle nevertheless; Sunset did not flinch from the touch. Rather, the beginnings of a smile formed upon her face. “My lady, I—”

“Thank you, Sunset,” Lady Nikos repeated. “Blessed was the day when Pyrrha found your company.”

The smile spread across Sunset’s face. “I was the more blessed, my lady, by far.”

“Sunset.”

Sunset turned aside at the sound of Blake’s voice. Blake was dressed in what looked a lot like an Atlas Academy uniform, save that her waistcoat and skirt were black instead of grey, and she had augmented it with a long white duster that descended down to her ankles. Rainbow Dash stood half a step behind her and to the side, wearing a short white jacket unbuttoned over a blue waistcoat, a white shirt with the colour unbuttoned, and a short skirt of thick white and magenta stripes.

“Blake,” Sunset said. “Or should that be Lieutenant Belladonna?”

“It’s just Specialist, actually,” Blake replied.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “They haven’t promoted you yet? I’m disappointed.”

Blake rolled her eyes, although one corner of her lip twitched upwards. “'Blake' will be fine.”

Rainbow grinned. “You can call me Specialist Dash if you want to.”

Sunset grinned right back at her. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass on that.”

She stood aside from Lady Nikos as the two of them approached, clearing space to embrace the two of them, wrapping her arms around their necks and pulling them in, even as she felt their hands upon her back.

“It’s good to see you again,” she whispered. “It is so, so good to see you again.” She felt her arms, and her legs, going weak with relief. This felt good. This felt so very good. This felt … this felt safe. Not because it was Atlas, not because of all the ships flying or hovering around, but because of them. Because of Blake, because of Dash, because they were here, and even if danger was too, then they were there to face it with her.

Atlas was not home, but nevertheless, at this moment, it was somewhere she was glad to be.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Blake said. “But Sunset, what are you doing here? How did you get here, and—?”

“What is she doing here?” Rainbow demanded.

Sunset was not confused as to who Rainbow was referring to. She released Rainbow and Blake, and stepped back, looking over her shoulder to see that Cinder and Cardin were now approaching across the docking pad, escorted by Ciel and Penny.

“I told you she was coming,” Ciel pointed out.

“I hoped you were kidding,” Rainbow growled.

“I am not your enemy, Rainbow Dash,” Cinder said calmly.

“You sure as hell aren’t my friend,” Rainbow snapped.

“Rainbow,” Sunset said sharply, “calm down—”

“I haven’t blown her face off yet, which means this is me being calm,” Rainbow replied. “She kidnapped Fluttershy, in case you’ve forgotten, and she tried to kill Twilight! She went to plant a virus in the CCT, and while she was there, she tried to kill Twilight! So forgive me if I don’t feel like taking my eyes off her.”

Sunset opened her mouth to defend Cinder, but was forestalled by Cinder herself, who said, “It’s alright, Sunset; I have no need of a defender.”

She stepped forwards, casting a shadow across the docking platform. “If all you do is watch me like a hawk, I might have cause to call that kindness, for I have given you cause for worse.”

Her eyes glanced away from Rainbow to Applejack, who stood with her hands clenched into fists, and Blake. “Wrongs have I done you all, by kidnap, by kidnap of friends, or by violence against other friends … or by corruption of those who once were dear to you, upon a time. And for those wrongs, you have my sorrow; I cry your pardon.”

She turned away from the Atlesians and wheeled to face Lady Nikos, bowing her head. “But greater pardon yet do I cry of you, my lady, for I have greater cause, to my mind if not the minds of others. Evil be on them who evil thinks, it is said, and evil indeed did I think of Pyrrha; I wished her ill and plotted to encompass her death, though she had done me no mortal wrong and bore me no enmity, Well, no enmity that I had not deserved of her through my own actions. I hated her and was the cause of many ills that caused her grief, and by my actions, I have caused her to be placed in the path of many perils. To all these sins do I confess to you and offer myself up for your punishment.”

She bent her back, and as she bowed forward, her long black hair fell across her face, exposing her neck. Under the moonlight, it seemed pale as she bared it to Lady Nikos.

Sunset said nothing; Cinder had made clear that she did not wish for Sunset to speak on her behalf, and she would respect that, despite her nerves. Lady Nikos had, as Cinder herself had admitted, no cause to love Cinder or bear her any affection or mercy. What might she do, when approached in the old Mistralian way? Might she not respond in the ancient Mistralian fashion?

Lady Nikos stared down at Cinder, her green eyes so sharp that they looked as though they might grow talons. “Pyrrha has told me much of you, Cinder Fall,” she declared. “You have done even more than you have spoken of.”

“Touching not on Pyrrha, my lady.”

“When you set the grimm swarming down that tunnel, did that not touch on Pyrrha?” Lady Nikos demanded. “For that matter, did it not touch on Sunset also, when you forced her to choose between a city and my daughter’s life?”

“Sunset has forgiven me these things.”

“Yet I may yet bear malice on her behalf,” Lady Nikos declared. Once more, she took pause. “And yet Pyrrha has also told me that you fought alongside her and saved her life in the battle for the relic.”

Cinder was silent for a moment. “I did, my lady.”

“And yet you did not mention it.”

“I will bow, my lady, and beg your pardon for my offences,” Cinder said, “but I will not clasp your knees and plead all manner of mitigations in desperate hope to lessen your enmity. My pride will countenance the first, but not the second.”

“And yet, it mitigates the offence, regardless of your pride,” Lady Nikos said. She raised her stick and struck Cinder on the back of the head hard enough to knock her to the ground. “And with that, the remainder of the debt is paid,” she said. She placed the tip of her stick back on the ground again. “Thank you, Miss Fall; your actions are appreciated.”

Cinder groaned. “The praise of my lady gladdens my heart,” she muttered, as she climbed to her feet. “Your strength is not so diminished as your looks might make it seem,” she added.

“Flattery will do you no favours, Miss Fall,” Lady Nikos replied, her voice stern.

Cinder’s lip twitched. “I would not dream even to attempt it, my lady.”

“Hey, Sun,” Sunset said, waving one hand to him. “Sorry, you must have thought we were ignoring you.”

“It’s okay,” Sun assured her. “Glad to see that you’re still in one piece.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Cinder said under her breath.

Cardin cleared his throat. “Speaking of feeling ignored.”

“Sorry,” Blake said. “It’s just—”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine, I get it,” Cardin assured her. “I just wanted to remind you that I was here.”

“I’m sure that Weiss and Flash will be happy to see you,” Blake said. “If you have time to see them, that is.”

“I don’t know—” Cardin began.

“Oh, come on!” Sunset cried. “We just spent days indulging my desires; we can afford to let you catch up with your teammates.”

A smile spread across Cardin’s face. “Great! How are they doing?”

“We should probably let them tell you,” Blake said.

“But … they’re dating,” Rainbow said, with an apologetic glance at Sunset.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “What are you looking at me like that for?”

Rainbow folded her arms. “What do you think I’m looking at you like that for?”

Sunset let out a laugh. “I,” she said, “am nothing but happy for the both of them.”

It surprised even her how true that was. There was no wrath in her heart; there was no anger towards Weiss, no malice towards Flash, no jealousy or sorrow. There had been something between them from the moment that they had been placed on the same team together; that had been plain to see. So plain, in fact, that it had aroused Sunset’s jealousy, and sadness, and anger, and all else that had roiled and rolled inside of her. But that was all behind her now. She had put it behind her at the dance, accepted she had no claim on Flash; they had ended things, and ended them as well as any couple could end such things.

And besides, it wasn’t as if his was the only heart to have gone on since they had seen each other last. It would be a grave insult to Cinder — who seemed to be making a point of ostentatiously not watching Sunset’s reaction — if she still carried any sort of torch for Flash.

Let them be happy. She was … he deserved a girl like her.

“We should take them to the General,” Ciel noted. “I understand the desire to catch up, but he is waiting to see them, is he not?”

“Nice to see you too, Ciel,” Rainbow said. “And you, Penny! Sorry to not say that earlier!”

“I understand,” Penny said. “But please don’t make a habit of it.”

Rainbow smiled. “But, yeah, Ciel’s right. Come on, you three; follow us.”

The Atlesians fell in around them, surrounding Sunset and her companions as they walked off the docking pad towards the great tower that was Atlas Academy. Blake led the way, with Rainbow and Applejack flanking the trio, and Ciel and Penny bringing up the rear.

In case Sunset or Cinder were tempted to try something, presumably.

She supposed she couldn’t blame them too much, as irksome as it was to bear.

At least Lady Nikos seemed to have no fear of them; she walked beside them as though they were all trusted friends and allies.

Sunset stepped closer to Cinder, so that she could whisper to her, “I didn’t expect you to take that tack with Lady Nikos.”

Cinder chuckled lightly. “I am more Mistralian than you are,” she pointed out, “why should it surprise you that I can act Mistralian and use the courtesies of that ancient kingdom?”

“It doesn’t surprise me that you can; it only surprises me that you did,” Sunset replied.

“Are we not all square now?” Cinder asked. “I would rather take a single blow to the head than have to endure constant glances and glares and suspicion. It is all done now; I do not believe that it will trouble us further. From now on, Lady Nikos will judge me by what I do, not by what I have done.”

“How sure were you that would happen?”

Cinder’s lips twitched upwards. “Mostly sure,” she said.

The lobby immediately beyond the entrance to the academy was austere, and grey, and almost barren in its emptiness; it was occupied only by two armed guards and a young officer, sitting behind a desk, who looked up at the group as they came in but did not challenge them. Neither did the guards, who got out of the way and allowed Blake to push the button to summon the elevator.

It came at once, the lift doors opening silently to reveal enough space for all of them to get in at once.

It was amazing how incredibly spacious it was, considering how cramped the elevators at Beacon had been, despite the fact that Beacon had objectively more space — far, far more space — to play around with.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was all flummery, but it was good that they didn’t have to split up, that they could share the ride without being pressed together like tinned beans.

The rear of the lift was glass, as was the central shaft up which they rose, so that, if Sunset turned around, she could see out across Atlas, the rest of the city growing smaller and smaller beneath them as they ascended heavenwards, all the myriad lights twinkling beneath them like reflections of the stars above.

“So, Blake,” Sunset said, to break the silence that had descended, “how are you finding life in the Atlesian military?”

Blake looked at her over her shoulder. “I wake up each day with a sense of purpose.”

Sunset smiled. “Do you also go to bed with a feeling of accomplishment?”

“Not every day,” Blake conceded. “But enough.”

“I’m glad.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Sunset insisted. “There’s nothing better than to find your place, is there?”

“I can think of one thing,” Blake replied.

“What?”

“Making a difference,” Blake explained. “Put the two together … it’s hard to beat.”

Sunset nodded. “So how come they made you specialists?”

“I think they figured that, after all we’d been through in the Battle of Vale, there wasn’t a lot of point in sending us back to classes,” Rainbow explained. “Plus … we could use the manpower right now.”

“What can we expect in there?” Cinder asked.

Rainbow glared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how is General Ironwood?” Cinder explained. “How is he … handling all of this?”

“He’s the General,” Rainbow declared. “He’s handling it the way he always handles everything: resolutely, and without flinching.”

Cinder, these were probably the worst people to ask about that, Sunset thought.

She did not believe that General Ironwood had done it on purpose — although he might have; she wouldn’t claim to know him very well, but he didn’t seem the type, and none of his actions seemed overtly designed to achieve this effect — but he had, without meaning to, cultivated a certain image amongst his students. They believed in him, they thought that he could do no wrong, they were as loyal to him as any Mistralian nobleman’s retainers ever were in the tales of old, and that loyalty might blind even intelligent people like Blake to what was really going on.

I suppose I shall see what’s really going on in just a moment.

“So, Cardin,” Rainbow said. “I hear you’re a specialist, too. A Valish specialist, anyway.”

“I’m a captain, actually,” Cardin replied, not without some smugness.

Rainbow snorted. “If you're a captain, are your lieutenants out of diapers yet?”

“Yes,” Cardin replied. “Although some of them still have spots.”

Rainbow chuckled. “Well, don’t expect any salutes from us.”

“Really?” Blake asked.

“Yeah, really. Why would we salute him?” Rainbow asked.

“Thanks a lot,” Cardin muttered.

“He is a superior officer,” Blake pointed out.

“No offence, but Cardin is not our superior,” Rainbow replied. “The fact that he is a captain while we have had to start at the bottom is proof that he is not our superior. Again, no offence.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m just not going to salute a bad copy,” Rainbow said.

“What’s it like in Vale?” Blake asked.

“Shaken,” Sunset said. “Frightened.”

“Alive,” Cardin added. “Getting by. Safe, for now, and isn’t that what really matters?”

“I suppose so,” Penny said. “But it’s better not to be afraid.”

“Only if there is nothing to be afraid of,” said Cinder.

The door to the elevator opened, and a short walk through corridors decorated prominently with the Atlesian symbol — white upon the blue carpet — brought them to General Ironwood’s office. And what an office it was! It was incredible in its spaciousness, and surprising at least in the ornateness of its design. Six proud columns, illuminated top and bottom with lights of cool blue neon, lined each wall, while on the curved ceiling above had been painted the stars, linked by white lines adjoining them, so that said sloping ceiling almost resembled the firmament that ringed Remnant and marked the outer limits of the use of dust. The alcoves between the columns were filled with bookshelves, while on the floor were painted more heavenly bodies: constellations picked out in clouds of golden light and their courses across the sky laid out. The moon, of course, was depicted as the Atlesian emblem, gleaming silver in the centre of the room, dominant.

As Sunset and the others stepped out of the elevator, she saw two small statuettes of warriors in antique armour bearing spears standing on either side of the doors.

The back of the room was fully taken up with a semicircle of panes of glass, out of which it was as possible to see out across Atlas as it had been back in the elevator. Sunset supposed that if you were going to build high, you might as well enjoy the view; and perhaps it gave General Ironwood some comfort to look outside and see the vast force that he had assembled at his command.

Or perhaps it gave him pause to think that it was still not enough.

General Ironwood himself sat behind a metal desk at the far side of the room, just before his windows. On one side of him stood a woman in a white uniform, who bore some resemblance to Weiss Schnee. Did she have a sister? Sunset didn’t recall having ever heard her mentioned. No doubt they would be introduced to one another soon. Twilight Sparkle stood beside her, and she smiled at Sunset as she came in, even as she seemed to shrink away from Cinder.

On the other side of General Ironwood — standing a little further away from him than the unnamed officer or Twilight — was a girl closer to Sunset’s own age, dressed in a black bodysuit with pink highlights over some kind of mesh armour, her black hair held back by a pink bandana. She was not quite leaning against the wall of General Ironwood’s office, but she did appear to be standing as far away from him as she could possibly manage.

Her arms were folded, and she had a scowl upon her face.

The Atlesian huntresses — including Penny — stopped and came to attention, saluting General Ironwood.

“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Ciel declared, “with Sunset Shimmer, Cinder Fall, and Captain Winchester.”

General Ironwood rose ponderously to his feet. To Sunset’s eyes, his movements seemed slow. Nevertheless, he returned the salute. “At ease, all of you. And thank you, Soleil. Penny, I’m sorry to cut your tour short like this.”

“It’s alright, sir,” Penny said. “I think this might be more important.”

General Ironwood chuckled softly. “Yes, you might be right. Still, many things are of import to Atlas right now, we’ll have you back on the road — or in the sky — again soon enough.”

He paused for a moment. “Miss Shimmer, I didn’t expect to see you here.” His tone became noticeably chillier as he added. “And I certainly didn’t expect to see you in my office, Miss Fall.”

“The feeling is mutual, General,” Cinder said. “There was a time when the only reason I could imagine myself being in your office was to kill you.”

“What Cinder is trying to say,” Sunset said quickly, “is thank you, sir, for agreeing to see us.”

“In light of what Soleil told me, I could hardly refuse,” General Ironwood said.

“You could have,” the girl in the black and pink declared, “and very easily. What is there to be learned from the likes of these?”

Cinder took a step forward, then another, then another; the chinks of her glass slippers upon the floor of the office was the only sound.

“It seems that you have the advantage of us,” she said, “Miss—”

“This is Aska Koryu, a huntress,” General Ironwood said. “And this is Major Winter Schnee, my adjutant. You know Twilight Sparkle already, of course.”

Cinder glanced at her. “There’s no need to be afraid, Twilight; I only hurt those who deserve it now.” Her gaze returned to Aska. She smiled slightly as she added, “Of course, having just said that means that I must show you some forbearance and restrict myself to asking why you are here? Whatever I was or am, I have some notoriety in this, but the name of Aska Koryu means nothing to me.”

“Then I’ve done my job well,” Aska said..

“Aska is here at my invitation,” General Ironwood declared. “And as a member of the Myrmidons.”

“'The Myrmidons'?” Sunset asked.

“A company of warriors, raised by Pyrrha to defend Mistral,” Lady Nikos explained.

Sunset looked at her, her eyebrows rising and her equine ears pricking up. “Pyrrha … Pyrrha has raised a company of warriors?”

“Uh-huh,” Sun said. “There’s Jaune, obviously, he’s our strategist, and Pyrrha’s our leader, then there’s Neptune and Scarlet and Sage; Ren and Nora, Arslan—”

“I don’t think we need the whole roster right now,” Blake murmured.

Sun laughed nervously. “Right,” he acknowledged. “Sorry.”

“All those names belong to students,” Cinder observed. “Or has Mistral, too, graduated all of its students to fill the void left by—?”

“By you?” Rainbow suggested.

“That was Tyrian’s plan, not mine,” Cinder said. “To find the Spring Maiden was his charge. Yes, I dealt with Lionheart, I needed his help to become accredited with a student — also, can you imagine dealing with Tyrian on a regular basis? — but all the information went to him, and he and Hazel did the killings. The very idea of murdering all the huntsmen in Mistral has his bloody fingerprints all over it.”

“General Ironwood,” Lady Nikos said, “may I have your leave to speak of Mistral and ask you to hold your patience just a little longer?”

“Please,” General Ironwood said softly, as he resumed his seat. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you, General,” Lady Nikos said. She walked forwards, her stick tapping on the floor, then turned around to face Sunset and the others. “All is not well in Mistral,” she said, “and has not been well for some time. The Council was frightened by events at Vale, and that fear left it paralysed with indecision — an indecision that was maintained by some powerful men in Mistral, who thought to use the chaos to advance their own interests ahead of the good of the kingdom.

“Worse, the weakness of the Council drew bandits out into the open, attacking small towns and villages which had no one to protect them, while the spread of panic caused a spate of grimm attacks to which the Council offered no response. It was for this reason that Pyrrha was driven to act: if no one else would defend the kingdom and its outlying settlements, she would.”

Sunset smiled. “Your news surprised me at first, my lady, but now that you explain, I find myself wondering how I could have expected anything else.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos said proudly. “Pyrrha has assembled mostly students, I concede, although there are some gladiators from the Colosseum also. All told, there are some thirty warriors at her command, and they have done good service protecting the villages that surround Mistral from bandits and from grimm alike.”

“Action worthy of her noble ancestors,” Sunset murmured.

“The comparison has been made,” Lady Nikos said. “Both by those who rightly acclaim Pyrrha and her companions for their valour, and for being the only true hearts in Mistral willing to defend the people when they are in need, and by those who are made envious of that same acclaim that daily heaps upon my daughter and her friends.”

“If others are jealous at the credit that accrues to Pyrrha for defending Mistral, then perhaps they, too, should get out and defend Mistral?” Sunset suggested acidly. “That way, some credit might accrue to them also.”

“It has been raised as a solution,” Lady Nikos said dryly. “But for some time, fear of what Pyrrha might do — fear that she might use her popularity with the people to seize the throne that once belonged to our family — only caused the Council to hoard its strength yet closer around itself, lest they be defenceless against a coup.”

“Nobody who knows Pyrrha would believe that she would do such a thing,” Sunset said. “In nothing save the use of her semblance is she capable of that kind of subtlety, for one thing. I say that with love, you understand.”

“I know, Miss Shimmer, and I do not dispute it,” Lady Nikos said. “Fortunately, some more sensible voices have prevailed of late, and Pyrrha and the Myrmidons have joined a leaguer under the Lady Terri-Belle, Warden of the White Tower, to defend the kingdom, joining the Council’s own huntsman and other companies raised by noble families.”

“May I inquire, my lady, as to the bad news?” Cinder asked. “Forgive me, but events have made me wary of good fortune.”

“I fear your wariness is wise, Miss Fall,” Lady Nikos replied. “Although some of the bad news is sweetened with a little good. In order to protect the more remote regions, farther from Mistral and harder to reach, much of our territory has been given out in fiefs to bandit tribes.”

“The lords of Mistral throw their people to the wolves,” Cinder muttered. “The world may change, it seems, but the conduct of the powerful does not. You know, things like this are why I wanted to destroy the world.”

“I thought that was because you were a selfish, power-hungry bitch,” Rainbow muttered.

Cinder chuckled. “Well,” she said. “That too.”

“Not all the lords of Mistral were consulted,” Lady Nikos said sharply. “Amongst the bandits who have taken slices of our land to rule on behalf of the Council—”

“In the same way that a wolf devours the flock on behalf of the shepherd, no doubt,” said Cinder.

Lady Nikos continued, “—are the Branwen tribe, amongst whom is the Spring Maiden, long lost … and Miss Rose’s elder sister, Yang Xiao Long.”

“Yang?” Sunset gasped. “Yang … Yang’s alive?” She blinked rapidly.

“But she died!” Penny exclaimed. “In the battle, she didn’t answer, and nobody could see her—”

“Her mother took her,” Sun explained, his voice hardening. “She kidnapped her right out of the middle of the battle and let everyone think that she’d died in the fighting.”

“Let Ruby think that she had died in the fighting,” Sunset growled.

She turned away from Lady Nikos, her ears drooping down atop her head, descending into her hair. Her hands clenched, and then unclenched again. She scarcely knew whether to rage or to rejoice. Anger and jubilation warred in her heart. On the one hand, what Raven had done to Yang — what she had done to Ruby — was absolutely despicable, to let Ruby and her father believe that their sister and daughter had perished, to let them grieve … Sunset thought back to the way that they had been when she had visited them on Patch. To have inflicted that misery upon the family was unforgivable, and Sunset was not minded to forgive it.

On the other hand, on the wonderful other hand … just wait until Ruby heard about this!

“My lady,” Sunset said, wheeling to face Lady Nikos once more, “where is Yang now? Is she with Pyrrha and Jaune and the others?”

“Pyrrha offered her shelter, of course,” Lady Nikos said, “but Miss Xiao Long would not avail herself of it. She claimed that Pyrrha’s strength could not protect her, and that she could influence these brigands towards a more righteous path from inside their camp.”

“That sounds very noble of her,” Penny said.

“That sounds stupid of her, Penny,” Sunset said sharply.

“Is it so?” Cinder asked softly.

Sunset knew why Cinder had asked this, and yet, she looked into Cinder’s eyes and said, “They kidnapped her. They kidnapped her and let her family believe her dead. She owes them no loyalty.”

“It does not seem that loyalty enters into the equation,” Cinder said. “My lady, is there any reason she cannot be rescued?”

“They have the Spring Maiden,” Ciel reminded her.

“Maidens are not omnipotent, nor are they invincible,” Cinder declared. “I defeated a Maiden with no magic of my own, and all I needed was three allies and a plan; Pyrrha is the Fall Maiden, with thirty swords at her command—”

“And the Branwen tribe have taken the Council’s writ; they are servants of Mistral now,” Lady Nikos said. “To fall upon them, even in a righteous cause, would be to move against the Council itself and to become, in the eyes of the people, all that Pyrrha’s critics have accused her of. Pyrrha cannot take such a step, not even for Miss Rose’s sister.”

“So Yang and the Spring Maiden remain in the hands of a pack of murdering scumbags,” Cardin spat. “Great. Who knows about the Spring Maiden?”

“Only a small number of the Myrmidons, for now, we believe,” Lady Nikos said. “Which is all to the good.”

Sunset ran both hands through her fiery hair. “Is there worse news to come, my lady?”

“It looks like Salem broke Chrysalis out of prison, and now, she works for her,” Rainbow said.

“'Chrysalis'?” Cinder asked.

“White Fang, has a semblance that lets her shapeshift into other people,” Rainbow said. “Smart, cunning, dangerous.”

Sunset let out a sigh. “And Salem has sent her to Mistral?”

“And a man named Doctor Watts,” Lady Nikos said. “We believe that they have murdered one of the Mistralian councillors, Lady Ming, and that this Chrysalis has taken her place. Unfortunately, our attempts to prove it failed. We also know that Doctor Watts has poisoned the sister of a powerful nobleman, Turnus Rutulus, and is using this to force his compliance and that of his forces.”

“Turnus Rutulus is here in Atlas, right now,” General Ironwood added. “He claims that he is on a diplomatic mission from the Council; naturally, we believe that he is also here on orders from Watts, although we haven’t been able to find out what his mission might be. We’re trying to keep him under observation, but his countermeasures have proven frustratingly effective so far.”

“I take it throwing him in a hole until he’s ready to talk is not an option either?” Cinder asked.

“He’s an accredited diplomat,” General Ironwood said. “So no.”

“And he is a good man,” Lady Nikos said. “A good man forced into a truly unenviable position. He deserves our pity when we cannot aid him, and all the aid that we dare give; certainly, he does not deserve to be treated like a common criminal.”

“If I may, my lady, might I suggest that many common criminals are likewise good men forced into truly unenviable positions?” Cinder said. “How many of them receive the courtesy and consideration being extended to Lord Rutulus? How many of them receive pity where they cannot be aided, and extended all the aid that you dare give?”

“What does it matter?” Aska demanded.

“It will matter a great deal if Mistral falls because it was necessary to handle a lord with kid gloves,” Cinder said. “It matters, because if Salem wins this war, it will be in no small part because the conduct of the wealthy and the powerful — and the way that these kingdoms are created to serve them and protect their interests — built up so much rage among the powerless and the dispossessed that they would gladly eat raw all the eminent men of Mistral and of Atlas too, even to the point of joining Salem for the meal she offers. Where do you think I came from, or Adam Taurus, or this Chrysalis? Do you think your enemies spring out of the ground for no reason?”

“We’re working to fix things—” Blake began.

“Then I suggest you work a little faster,” Cinder said.

Sunset broke the silence that followed Cinder’s words. “And what, in all of this, brings you to Atlas, my lady?”

“To ask for help, on Pyrrha’s behalf,” Lady Nikos replied. “Since she could not come here to plead her case directly, she sent me.”

“I see,” Sunset said softly. “And is any help … to be forthcoming?”

“We’re the help,” Rainbow said.

“I’ve ordered Dash to put together a team to go to Mistral and assist Miss Nikos in any way possible,” General Ironwood confirmed.

One squad? That is all the help that he can spare?

Or was it simply all the help he was willing to spare? Either way … yes, he was spending his most trusted huntress, and yes, there were issues of secrecy to consider, but at the same time, to draw in all his horns thus and spare only the bare minimum to lend assistance to Mistral when it was clear now that Salem’s next stroke would fall there, not on Atlas?

Perhaps Cinder had been onto something.

Or perhaps the Princess of Hope should try and be hopeful, and not be too pessimistic.

“You’re welcome to come with us,” Blake said, confirming that, at the very least, General Ironwood was taking this sufficiently seriously to spend both his best people.

“I’m sure that we will meet in Mistral,” Sunset said, “but my business must take me to Shion first.”

“'Shion'?” General Ironwood said. “Is that where Ozpin is?"

Sunset felt her eyebrows rise, considering the gathered group. While it was clear Ironwood and Pyrrha had placed their trust in all who were present, this was a deeper secret than most, one that had not been shared with Ciel or Penny until it had spilled from her own lips.

“Yes,” Sunset answered.

For a moment, General Ironwood looked as though he might sag, as though his perfect composure and ramrod back would bend or break, but he did not, and they did not; he remained sitting perfectly upright, as stiff as a staff, as he said, “How do you know?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “Amber told me.”

“Amber?” Rainbow repeated. “Amber’s dead.”

“Hence she can know things that we, living, do not,” Sunset said. “She came to me in a dream and told me where to find Professor Ozpin, begged me to find him and protect him.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t just eat some cheese?”

Sunset rolled her own eyes in exasperation. “Is it really any stranger than any of the rest of this?” she demanded.

“No,” Rainbow admitted. “No, I guess it isn’t.”

“I believe her,” Sunset declared. “I trust what she is telling me, and I trust that I need to go to Shion.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Blake asked. “If Professor Ozpin isn’t there?”

Sunset shrugged. “Then I will go on to Mistral, chastened by the experience. What else can I do but that?”

General Ironwood stroked his chin reflectively. “Dash, perhaps you should go to Shion as well; if Ozpin is there, then he needs to be protected until he can be brought to a safe haven. Miss Shimmer, I don’t suppose that Amber gave you any details about his new host.”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Sunset admitted. “I’m hoping that he’ll reveal himself to me. I hope he doesn’t think so ill of me that he feels the need to hide.”

“Early in the merge, the new host’s access to Ozpin’s memories are limited; he might not recognise you right away,” General Ironwood warned her.

“Understood, sir, but I’m sure I can find him,” Sunset said. “As for the assistance of your team … not that I wouldn’t be glad of the help, but I don’t know how long it will take to get from Shion to Mistral even once we’ve found the professor; I wouldn’t want Pyrrha to be without assistance for so long.”

“I agree, sir,” Dash added. “I think it makes more sense to split our forces, leave Sunset to handle Professor Ozpin while my team goes on ahead to set up in Mistral.”

General Ironwood shook his head. “No. Ozpin’s safety is our highest priority. I’m not going to abandon him to…” He looked at Sunset, and then he looked at Cinder. “I won’t abandon him. Find Ozpin, and get him on an airship back to Atlas before you proceed with the rest of your mission.”

“To Atlas?” Lady Nikos said. “General, Pyrrha would value Ozpin’s council in Mistral.”

“Mistral is not safe, my lady, by your own admission,” General Ironwood replied. “Salem’s agents have already begun to work, spreading their influence throughout the city. To put Oz in the front line while he is still adjusting to a new host … no, it’s too risky. I won’t lose him again, I won’t … this time, I’ll protect him. Do you understand, Dash?”

“Yes, sir,” Rainbow said, her voice unflinching.

General Ironwood nodded. “Now, Miss Shimmer, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

Now was the moment. Now they were come to it.

Sunset advanced towards General Ironwood, where he stood behind his desk.

“I’m here to ask for your help, sir,” she began.

Author's Note

Art by Ironpines

A Lot to Catch Up On: Part Three

A Lot to Catch Up On, Part Three

Sunset walked forwards, approaching General Ironwood where he sat behind his desk.

She walked forwards not because she had anything to say that she did not want others to hear, but so that she could see him better than she could see him standing halfway across his absurdly spacious office.

General Ironwood looked … tired. She could see that more clearly the closer she got. Outwardly, his signs and signifiers remained impressive: clean shaven, uniform clean and pressed, collar done up, tie on. But as she approached, she could see the bags beneath his eyes, and she had noted the momentary sign of relief that he had given when they had spoken about Ozpin, she had heard him command Professor Ozpin to be brought back to Atlas even though his wisdom might be said to be more urgently needed in Mistral.

The bags beneath his eyes, the dark circles spoke to weariness; his behaviour with regards to Professor Ozpin spoke to a man who was unsure of himself, who wanted nothing more than for someone to tell him that he was doing the right thing — perhaps even someone to lift the burden from his shoulders.

Sunset could understand the feeling.

And the ships, the gathering of the host, what did that speak to? What did that signify? Fear, as Cinder believed?

That … that Sunset would find out.

Of one thing she was quite sure: General Ironwood might be going to bed every night and putting clean clothes on in the morning, but he was not sleeping in that bed of his, no matter how big and how comfortable it was. If he was doing anything except making his face heat up from contact with the pillow while he fretted on all that might await them, Sunset would be very surprised.

She could hardly blame him. What they were up against … well, it was a thing to keep one up at night. But at the same time … how might a man like this react to her news, and to her embassy?

She would not know until she told him. She could not lie to him, she could not conceal things so that he would look more kindly upon her suit for Freeport. She was the Princess of Hope, after all, not the Princess of False Hope, nor the Princess of Deceit, the Princess of Lies Kindly Meant, the Princess of Advantage. Princess of Hope. And hope … hope could only come from honesty; you had to speak truth about the darkness before you could shine a light in it.

“'Help'?” General Ironwood said. “What kind of help? Help finding Ozpin?”

“You have granted that already, sir, for which I am sure the Professor will be grateful,” Sunset murmured. She did not mention whether Professor Ozpin would wish to go to Atlas instead of to Mistral; it did not seem to her the time to fight that particular battle; there would be time enough for that later, if General Ironwood approved all her other requests.

And, if he could not be moved upon this point … she was the Princess of Hope, not the Princess of Blind Obedience to Atlesian Generals. If Professor Ozpin did not wish to go to Atlas, then she was bound to the professor, not the general; out of courtesy and decency, she owed him truth; she did not owe him to truss up her headmaster in a sack and deliver him to any place against his wishes and commands.

“But, no,” Sunset continued, “that is not the help to which I was referring, not the help for which I have been sent to ask.”

General Ironwood folded his hands together on top of his desk. They half-shielded his face from view. All that Sunset could see now were his eyes, his tired eyes, the dim blue light surrounded by darkness.

“What then?” General Ironwood asked softly.

Sunset took a deep breath. “My account,” she began, “may seem to ramble a little, at times. It may appear to go on for some little length. I beg your indulgence, sir, and you, my lady, and my friends. I … I beg your trust that all I have to say is relevant.”

“I cannot speak for General Ironwood, but for myself, I am all ears,” Lady Nikos said. “I am most eager to hear of your doings and adventures; I only regret that Pyrrha is not here to hear it with us.”

Sunset chuckled. “It will not wear my throat out to tell it again for Pyrrha’s sake and Jaune’s, my lady,” she replied. She took pause for a moment.

“If you do have a lot to say, would you like some water?” General Ironwood offered.

“No, sir, but that is most kind of you,” Sunset answered. “But I will not keep you waiting further.”

“You’ve told me your most important news already,” General Ironwood said. “Anything else you have to say is … extra.”

He spoke so softly, so quietly, and yet it felt to Sunset almost like a dismissal. Certainly, it did not fill her with optimism.

“What Sunset has to say touches on the state of Vale itself,” Cardin pointed out. “Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Of course,” General Ironwood said, barely raising his voice. “But … never mind. I misspoke. Speak, Miss Shimmer, if you will.”

Sunset nodded. “As Cardin says, our tale begins in Vale, which is … recovering, as best it can, from the many blows that fell upon it last year. New ships are being built in the yards, fresh troops are being raised, and huntsmen are being pressed into service in the new Corps of Specialists, for the Committee feels that it is good to copy the Atlesian model and integrate the huntsmen into an organised hierarchy, the better to control them.”

“Your tone is neutral, Miss Shimmer, but your words are frightful,” Lady Nikos observed.

“Not necessarily,” Blake said. “After all, as Sunset said, it’s only the Atlesian model—”

“There was no need to add that this was about control,” Twilight murmured. “You don’t like this, do you?”

“Does that matter?” Cardin asked.

“A little,” Blake admitted. “Since she’s the one telling the story. Sunset?”

Sunset hesitated for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “I do not like it.”

“Sunset—” Cardin began.

Sunset rounded on him. “You were the one who told me that if Ruby didn’t come in voluntarily out of the cold, then they were going to send someone to forcibly measure her for a green uniform! You can’t expect me to have warm and fuzzy feelings after that!”

“'Forcibly'?” Penny gasped. “You mean … you mean they were going to make her serve in their military?”

“So I was led to understand,” Sunset said calmly.

Cardin swallowed. He glared at Sunset just a little bit as the eyes of the Atlesian specialists turned to face him. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he said awkwardly, squirming in place like a worm on a hook.

“That’s good, because it sounds terrible,” Penny said. “It sounds like you’re making people do things they don’t want to.”

“Am I really getting judged by a lot of Atlesian military—?”

“We can quit whenever we want,” Rainbow insisted. “Me, Blake, Applejack, Ciel, any one of us could walk away this minute if we chose to.”

“Well, good for you!” Cardin snapped. “Maybe if your home comes under attack, we can see how long your commitment to these precious freedoms lasts then?”

He took a deep breath. “I know that it doesn’t sound good, but try and see it from our perspective: Vale came under attack. Not Atlas, not Mistral, Vale. Vale is the one that was wounded, Vale is the one that almost fell, Vale is the one where we had to do something to calm the panic, otherwise the grimm would have come straight back again. We need trained huntsmen to make the people feel safe—”

“And you need to control them,” Lady Nikos observed. “Just as in Mistral, our Lord Steward cares more about controlling the warriors than protecting the kingdom.”

“Our forces are protecting Vale,” Cardin insisted. “What do you think Sunset was doing?”

Rainbow glanced at Sunset, “Did they make you a specialist?” Her face fell. “Don’t tell me you’ve been a lieutenant all this time?”

Sunset smirked. “No, Rainbow, I’m not an officer. I’m not even a specialist. I’m not a sufficiently upstanding citizen to deserve a place in the ranks of Vale’s defenders. I was just the one getting on with the job.”

“Have you been waiting until we got somewhere safe just so you could vent at me?” Cardin demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “I just … you have to admit that not everything in Vale is rosy at the moment. Some of the things that the committee—”

“What is this committee?” Winter Schnee asked. She had been quietly taking notes for the entire meeting, recording them on her scroll, her lithe fingers tapping delicately away upon the surface, but now, she spoke. “I thought that you had misspoken when you meant Council, but you’ve used that word twice now.”

“The Committee of Public Safety,” Cardin explained. “The triumvirate that now leads Vale as we build back better in the wake of calamity and step forward into a new Valish tomorrow.”

“Is that what they say on their poster?” Ciel asked dryly.

“'Triumvirate'?” Lady Nikos repeated. “What about the other two members of the Council?”

“Professor Goodwitch still hasn’t been confirmed as Professor Ozpin’s replacement,” Sunset said.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Penny suggested. “After all, if Rainbow and the others are going to find Professor Ozpin—”

“Ozpin will not be as he was,” General Ironwood explained gently. “He will have a new host. He will look different, sound different; initially, he may even act quite differently. He won’t simply be able to walk into Ozpin’s life and take it over.”

“Although that is always the endgame, isn’t it, General?” Sunset asked. “That’s why it needs the votes of all the other headmasters to dismiss a headmaster from their post and why the other headmasters need to unanimously approve the appointment of a new head.”

“That is so that our group can be sure to have trustworthy individuals overseeing the relics and their protection, as well as training the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses and spotting candidates to become agents in this struggle,” General Ironwood said. “But you’re right, Miss Shimmer, it does also serve as a means by which Ozpin’s hosts can be appointed to Beacon. In normal circumstances, Glynda would be expected to step in as interim headmistress while Oz established himself — both in his new host and in Remnant — and then make way for him again.” He sighed. “Sadly, these are not normal times.”

“No, they aren’t,” Cardin said. “They’re extraordinary times, and they call for extraordinary measures.”

“In Mistral, we know the taste of extraordinary measures for extraordinary times,” Lady Nikos said. “The aftertaste is exceedingly bitter.”

“Cardin is right about one thing: Vale was weakened by the events of last year,” Sunset conceded. “And so, while Vale organised itself, Cinder and I — along with sundry other rogues — worked under Cardin’s direction to deal with threats from grimm and bandits that plagued the outlying areas of Valish territory. That was what I was doing when Professor Goodwitch summoned me. She called me to Vale, met with me, and asked me to go to Anima and find Professor Ozpin in his new host.”

“Which was the first you had heard of it, I suppose?” Winter observed.

“Indeed,” Sunset said. “But it’s no stranger than anything else going on: our enemy is led by an immortal; it has a certain symmetry that our side should be also. What surprised me most was that the method of immortality was so … inefficient.”

“It is a curse,” General Ironwood pointed out.

“So I’ve been told,” Sunset murmured. “In any event, I … I didn’t see how I could go to Anima, what with my responsibilities to atone for my actions in Vale, and Cardin initially agreed with me. Fortunately, he agreed to let me go to Patch and ask Ruby if she would go to Anima in my stead and look for Professor Ozpin herself.”

“What was Ruby doing during all of this?” asked Penny.

“Grieving her sister,” Sunset said, “and caring for her equally grief-stricken father.” She felt her hands clench into fists quite involuntarily. “And all for nought. And all with nothing to truly grieve for! And all because Yang was stolen away out of sight and hidden from them by that … there will be a reckoning for that, I promise you. She won’t get away with what she’s done.”

“Raven Branwen, hideous though she might be, is under the protection of Mistralian law,” Lady Nikos pointed out.

“Does not Mistralian law allow me my vengeance, my lady?” Sunset demanded. “Does not Mistralian law allow me to challenge her for her offences?”

“It does, in theory,” Lady Nikos allowed. “But in practice … the situation is delicate at the moment.”

“Almost as if these are extraordinary times,” Cardin muttered.

Lady Nikos ignored him. “I know you would not wish to do anything that would make Pyrrha’s position more difficult than it already is.”

Sunset felt as though a bucket of cold water had been poured upon the flames of her anger. Whatever Raven had done, however much she had hurt Ruby and her father, repaying those injuries in kind was not worth the sacrifice of Pyrrha’s present.

“No, my lady, you are quite correct; we must look to what is before us, first and foremost,” she sighed. “Forgive me, I am—”

“Your anger needs no forgiving,” Lady Nikos assured her. “Many were justly angry when the truth was known. But we must temper our anger with the necessary caution for the time being.”

“Indeed, my lady,” Sunset murmured. She took a breath. “Where was I?”

“Going to see Ruby,” Cinder prompted.

“Thank you, yes, Ruby,” Sunset said. “Ruby … I went to see Ruby and her father on Patch. She was … they were … well, as I said, they were grieving the loss of Yang. Hurting from it. Smarting from it. Tortured by … I’m sorry, I must stop this, or I will work myself up into … they were grieving, as I have said too often now. I went to see them, and I told Ruby about Professor Ozpin, and I asked her to go to Anima and look for him.”

“She refused?” General Ironwood asked. “She isn’t here.”

“No, sir, she is not, for reasons that will become clear,” Sunset informed him. “I … yes, she did refuse, I think.”

“You think?” Winter asked. “Either she did, or she didn’t.”

“A lot has happened, and this feels very long ago,” Sunset replied defensively. “And it does not have the patina of pleasantness that gives my memories of Beacon a golden glow to keep them fresh. But, yes, I think she did refuse. However, it ended up being rather immaterial, because that very night we were attacked.”

“'Attacked'?” General Ironwood repeated. “By an agent of Salem?”

“Amongst other things, yes,” Sunset said. “There was an agent of Salem there, by the name of Tyrian.” She looked at Cinder. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Cinder confirmed. “Tyrian Callows.”

Winter’s brow furrowed. “Tyrian Callows?” she asked. “The serial killer?”

General Ironwood looked at her. “Schnee?”

“I remember this, sir; hang on just a moment,” Winter said, running one finger rapidly across her scroll until she found what she was looking for. “Is this him?” she asked, holding out her scroll towards Sunset.

On the device, Sunset could see a picture Tyrian’s face, caught in the midst of manic laughter.

She nodded. “That’s him. He was there.”

“Who is he?” General Ironwood asked.

“Tyrian Callows, a scorpion faunus, no known affiliation with the White Fang,” Winter explained. “He committed a series of extraordinarily flamboyant and undisguised crimes across Mistral, including murders, assaults, and kidnappings, including the murder of the SDC vice president of regional operations in Anima and his entire family. He was eventually captured by a Mistralian huntsman named Pickerel, but the transport bringing him to Atlas for trial was attacked by grimm. There were no survivors found at the scene, but Pickerel was found dead shortly after. However, Callows was never seen again, so it was unknown if he had survived the attack or if it was a coincidence.”

“He survived,” Cinder said. “He is Salem’s most devoted follower now.”

“You didn’t tell me he was a serial killer,” Sunset said.

“I told you he was psychotic and dangerous,” Cinder pointed out. “I didn’t know he was a serial killer myself; he never sought to share his past with me, and I wouldn’t have wanted to hear it if he had.”

“But you knew his name,” General Ironwood asked.

Cinder nodded. “Yes, I knew his name.”

“What does Salem want with a serial killer?” Twilight asked.

“To kill people,” Cinder said bluntly.

“I thought that was your job,” Rainbow muttered.

Cinder glanced at her. “And what is it that you do to your enemies, Rainbow Dash?”

“Apparently, I have to stand here and listen to them spout off!” Rainbow snapped.

“Rainbow—” Sunset began.

“No, Sunset, I have a right to be angry about this!” Rainbow yelled. “Why is she even here? After everything that she’s done, after she kidnapped Applejack, and Fluttershy, after she tried to kill Twilight, what is she doing in our house?” She glared at Sunset. “And you, you brought her here?”

“I am not Sunset’s cat, nor her responsibility,” Cinder declared. “You have a problem with me, Rainbow Dash, you can address it to me. I’m right here. Leave Sunset out of it.”

Rainbow glared at Cinder, advancing on her until they were almost touching. Cinder was taller — only by a little, and with heels — but Rainbow was broader in the shoulders, and her mess jacket could not entirely hide the fact that her arms were burlier as well.

Sunset watched them both, but deferred to Cinder’s wishes by saying nothing. She was almost certain that Cinder could defuse this situation with a sincere apology, but that would require a degree of humility that she was not Cinder had it in her to possess.

In Sunset’s eyes, Cinder had done enough — keyword being ‘done’ — to prove herself. She had defended Ruby down in the tunnels of Grogar’s lair, although she had no love for Ruby; she had kept quiet about her mounting distaste for Ruby’s behaviour even though, again, she had no love for Ruby, because Sunset did. She had, by Ruby’s own account, spoken kindly to her when they were prisoners of the Sun Queen. When Sunset had been sinking into a morass of melancholy, Cinder had kept a good head on her shoulders, and it was as well that someone had.

Yet, though her deeds merited some consideration, her attitude … that was a different story. Indeed, it sometimes seemed as though Cinder had redoubled her commitment to being ‘Cinder Fall,’ the character that she had made up to carry her through the tough times.

Sunset thought she knew why: the loss of the Fall Maiden’s power had left her feeling small and vulnerable, and so, she wore her pride, her smirks, her droll remarks as armour against the world so that they would not see how vulnerable she felt.

Sunset felt as though she alone was allowed to see what lay beneath the armour. But Cinder needed to show something in front of Rainbow Dash, or this could end very badly.

Unless General Ironwood stopped it, which he seemed to have little intention of doing.

Which meant that Cinder would have to show something. Some humility, some remorse. Whether Cinder felt enough remorse to satisfy Dash was … something else. Sunset was — uncomfortably, at this present moment — aware that one of the many things the two of them had in common was a … troubled relationship with the concept of empathy for complete strangers. It was why Sunset could look at Cinder’s service to Salem and admire her commitment to her cause, her willingness to fight and suffer for it, though it be the worst cause for which ever anyone had fought or suffered; it was why Cinder could divorce in her mind her fury at the abuses of the powerful with the damage that she herself had been willing to inflict upon the victims of those selfsame powerful.

The fact that it was something they shared meant equally that it was something which didn’t bother Sunset; somehow, she imagined that Dash and the other Atlesians would be less understanding.

“Okay,” Rainbow said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to fight your enemies,” Cinder said.

“Why?” Rainbow demanded.

Cinder blinked. “Why what?”

“Why would you bother?” Rainbow explained.

“I am a warrior,” Cinder said. “These are the skills that I possess; this is … my vocation, you might say.”

Rainbow snorted. “Skills you’ll turn against us again the moment—”

“I saved Pyrrha’s life!” Cinder said, her voice rising. “There was no one there to witness it, nobody there to compel me, but I did it anyway! Because I can be as honourable as you, or Pyrrha, or anyone else in this exalted company!”

“Pretty words,” Rainbow snarled. “I know that they impress Sunset, they impressed Lady Nikos outside, but they cut no ice with me—”

“Then what would you have of me, Rainbow Dash?” Cinder demanded.

“Some honest remorse would be a good start!”

Cinder was silent. She stared into Rainbow’s magenta eyes, never looking away, never leaving them. She licked her lips. Her right foot moved slightly, turning ninety degrees upon her toe, then turning back again.

It seemed to Sunset almost as if she were starting to sweat.

Is it nerves or embarrassment? In this situation, she could believe either.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Cinder said, in a voice that was very quiet; Sunset wondered if Twilight would be able to hear it. “I frightened you, didn’t I?”

Twilight, too, took a moment to reply, and when she did reply, it was in a squeak of a voice. “Yes.”

Cinder closed her eyes. Her chest rose and fell. “I am…” She cleared her throat. “I am sorry for that. I … I should have … I should not have … I remembered … I wanted to…” — she scowled, and a wordless growl rose out of her throat before she said — “it was cruel of me. Cruelty comes easily to me. Too easily.”

“Easier than apologisin’, seems like,” Applejack muttered.

“I am what the world has made me,” Cinder declared. “It is what I have been fashioned into. It is not so easily denied. Nevertheless, I am ashamed of what I have been made: not strong, but cruel. I am sorry that I frightened you, and that I tried to kill you, and that I took captive your other friend, Fluttershy. It was … I should have been mindful … you had no part in this war.”

“Is that all?” Blake demanded. “Is that all you have to apologise for?”

Cinder glanced at Blake over her shoulder. “If it matters to you, then the White Fang of Vale deserved better from me than to be sacrificed as part of a larger scheme — and doubly so because the scheme was a failure — I was their general, their leader, and I … I did not live up to the standards expected of that lofty position. I did not care for my men as a commander should. I did not put their welfare above my own; I did not make their survival my highest good. But nor did I make Adam Taurus; that is not at my door. I went to him because he was ready to serve me, perfect as he was.”

“Yet you still bent him to your service,” Blake growled.

“And you released that video of Blake and got her arrested!” Rainbow added.

“Which worked out very nicely for everyone concerned, as I’m sure you’ll agree,” Cinder snapped, apparently reaching the limits of her capacity for humility. “Am I to go through every failure? Am I to go through every plot and plan that did not work? Should I apologise for every intent that came to nought? Do you want to know if you can trust me, or do you simply wish to humiliate me in public?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this demeaning for you? Big whoop,” Rainbow snapped. “Maybe things didn’t go the way you wanted, maybe you were kind of pathetic, but it doesn’t change the fact that you wanted things to go pretty damn badly for all of us!”

“You cannot know what was in my heart, or is in it now,” Cinder said. “What I wanted, what I thought, what I felt, these are all irrelevant. All that matters is what I did and what I will do. I did ill. I know it well enough: I waged war upon the innocent; I trampled upon the most sacrosanct of things, a living soul; I killed those who did not deserve to die, led others to their deaths, caused other losses at some remove by indirect action; I…” She looked down at the floor. Her face had started turning red as she began to confess her sins; now, it was rather bright. “I sought to corrupt Sunset, to undo the kindness that Pyrrha had bred in her, and in so doing, I caused cruelties. I was cruel.” She screwed up her eyes tight shut. “And I was pathetic.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Of all the things that Cinder might have said, she had certainly not expected Cinder to say that.

Does she believe it? But why?

“I will not go back,” Cinder said. “I will not turn away.”

“Why not?” Rainbow asked, and Sunset thought her voice might be a little softer.

Or is that just my hope talking?

Cinder looked up, although she did not raise her head enough so as to be looking down on Rainbow. “What does it mean, to be the Ace of Canterlot?”

Rainbow shifted awkwardly on the balls of her feet. “Nothing,” she muttered. “It’s just a stupid nickname; I should have outgrown it.”

“Exactly,” Cinder said. “The Ace of Canterlot, the Invincible Girl, they’re all … baubles. Glimmering decorations, pretty to look at, but … hollow. Food that tastes sweet but gives no succour. I thought that if I could not have fame or glory, then I would live in infamy instead, but the truth is … none of it matters. Pyrrha knew what really fills the soul, you know, and now … so do I.

“You don’t have to like me. You can try and shoot me in the back when the battle is at its height if you wish. You have the right. But I am not your enemy. I will not be your enemy. There is nothing Salem can offer me anymore.”

Rainbow took a step back, if only to fold her arms across her chest. She huffed audibly, but whatever she might have said in response to this was cut off by General Ironwood.

“That’s enough,” he said. “You knew Tyrian Callows, which is more than we knew up until now. Do you have other names? The rest of Salem’s organisation?”

Cinder hesitated, then turned away from Rainbow Dash and took a step towards General Ironwood. “Salem’s organisation is … the best comparison I can make would be to a criminal syndicate. Everything is compartmentalised, precisely so that someone like me cannot reveal all the details to someone like you. What I can tell you is that when I served her, there were four of us who stood at the top, answerable only to Salem herself: Tyrian Callows; Arthur Watts, an Atlesian scientist—”

“I’m aware of Watts,” General Ironwood growled. “We’ve come across his fingerprints already.”

“Of the four of us, he was the most willing to share details of his past,” Cinder said. “He wasn’t fond of you.”

“I never liked him either,” General Ironwood replied shortly. “You said there were four.”

“Hazel Rainart is the last,” Cinder replied.

“Hazel Rainart,” General Ironwood said. “I’ve never heard of him. Schnee?”

“It means nothing to me, sir,” Winter said.

“Soleil?”

“No, sir, I do not recall any details of a man by that name,” Ciel replied. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be; it may be there is nothing to recall,” General Ironwood said. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know,” Cinder said. “He’s the most preposterously dour man I’ve ever had the misfortune to come across. The strong, silent type. I don’t believe that he was a criminal — he was the one who turned Lionheart, so he must have been able to move freely through Mistral without issue — but even that is my guess, not a fact. All I can really say, General, is that he would make you look small.”

“I think you could do better than that,” General Ironwood said. “Before you go anywhere, I’ll have you sit down with a sketch artist and provide a physical description for circulation. Schnee, distribute that picture of Tyrian Callows around; since he’s already a wanted serial killer, we won’t even have to explain why he’s an issue. Inform all units that he is to be considered armed and dangerous; if they spot him, regular and police units should not engage but wait for Specialist backup.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it.”

General Ironwood nodded. “So, those four are Salem’s top operatives, but you had people working beneath you.”

“Yes, I did,” Cinder said. “But as I said, the structure of Salem’s organisation is compartmentalised; I knew my three equals at the top, and I knew my own agents, but I didn’t know the names of any operatives working for Tyrian, Hazel, or Watts; I don’t even know for sure that they have agents or subordinates. I didn’t know about Lionheart until I needed a way into Beacon, and I didn’t know about Tempest Shadow until I needed her assistance.”

“That seems inefficient,” Winter said. “How were you supposed to make plans without knowing all the resources at your disposal?”

“We weren’t supposed to play with one another’s toys,” Cinder said. “Salem … you must understand that we were not a team. We were not allies working together in a common goal.”

“Then what were you?” asked General Ironwood.

“Rivals,” Cinder said. “Salem believed that she would get better results by pitting us against one another in a struggle for supremacy. She called it natural selection.”

“And yet you did get the services of two of Doctor Watts’ agents, and a virus created by him,” General Ironwood pointed out. “And Lionheart’s help to get into Beacon.”

“Mmm,” Cinder agreed. “The aims of my operation were so far-reaching — the power of the Fall Maiden, the Relic of Choice, the death of Ozpin — and the obstacles in the way so great that mommy threw open the toy box to me; I could have practically anything I wanted. She took a greater than usual interest in my plan and made sure that Watts was cooperative.”

“Your plan?” Ironwood repeated. “Not Salem’s plan?”

“Salem doesn’t plan,” Cinder said. “Salem sets goals and leaves it to her subordinates to achieve those goals by any means necessary.”

“You make her sound like a corporate manager,” Ciel murmured.

“That may have changed now that she has the Relic of Choice,” General Ironwood muttered. He frowned. “Why go after Beacon first? Having turned the Lionheart at Haven, why not go after the Relic of Knowledge?”

“In the first place, because nobody could find the Spring Maiden,” Cinder said. “Tyrian has searched for her for some time but came up empty. The second reason is that Salem believed that, with Ozpin alive and the CCT in operation, any move against any of the other kingdoms would draw a robust and coordinated response. The death of Ozpin and the destruction of Beacon Tower has created … opportunities to strike at Shade or Haven while they are isolated.”

“'Shade or Haven'?” General Ironwood said. “Not Atlas.”

Cinder shook her head. “I believe that Salem always meant to leave Atlas until last. She fears your courage.”

Lady Nikos snorted. “Yet she esteems so lightly the valour of Mistral?”

“Forgive me, my lady; would it salve your pride if I said that Salem fears General Ironwood’s arsenal of missiles?” Cinder asked. “I believe that she would wish to have the Relic of Destruction before she confronts your power.”

“You believe?” General Ironwood said. “You don’t know?”

“I cannot know for certain; plans may have changed since I was last admitted to Salem’s councils.”

“And even when you were in Salem’s councils, there were no plans, only goals, do I have that right?”

“You do,” Cinder said. “I fear I am not the trove of information you were hoping for.”

“It is something,” Lady Nikos said. “If only confirming what the evidence already suggests: Mistral is Salem’s next target.”

“But she’s only sent this Doctor Watts there, with his new operative, because she doesn’t think Mistral is a tough enough nut to crack for him to need help from the others,” Sunset murmured. “Arrogance she will hopefully regret.”

“Especially if we can get communications back online quickly,” Twilight added. “Then we can coordinate a response to her next moves.”

“You’re getting communications back online?” Sunset asked. “How?”

“By building a new CCT tower in Menagerie,” Blake explained. “Since we last saw one another, Atlas has signed a treaty recognising Menagerie as a kingdom and agreeing, amongst other things, to build a tower which will reestablish communications and finally connect our island to the rest of Remnant.”

Sunset turned her back on General Ironwood so that she could face Blake. Her jaw worked wordlessly for a moment. “Recognition and a CCT? A tower for which they are paying? You did that in … four months?”

“It’s nearly six at this point,” Blake murmured, a flush rising to her face.

“You did this in six months?”

“And a huntsman academy,” Rainbow added. “And dust mining.”

“My parents handled the negotiations,” Blake said softly, looking away as one hand rose up and started to play with her hair.

“The negotiations which happened because of you,” Sunset said. “You … you are an absolute marvel. You’re an absolute treasure.” She looked at Rainbow Dash. “You appreciate how lucky you are to have her, I take it.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m very aware,” Rainbow said.

“Please stop,” Blake begged. “It’s wonderful, and incredible, and the best thing to happen to Menagerie in years, but it’s not my achievement.”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “It is. And Twilight’s right, if that tower gets up and running quickly, that will certainly throw a wrench in Salem’s ambitions if she was hoping to use the communications blackout to advance her aims.” She paused. “You know, I feel as though we’ve talked a lot, and I’ve barely started.”

“That’s because you have barely started,” Penny pointed out helpfully.

“Yes, thank you, Penny,” Sunset said. She turned to face General Ironwood once again. “So, as I was saying, we were attacked by Tyrian Callows — but not by Tyrian alone. He had with him a kind of grimm, a unique grimm, of a sort that I had never seen or heard of before. A kind — and this will sound incredible, but it is absolute truth — that could speak … and use magic.”

General Ironwood’s hands, which had been held up in front of his face, hit the desk with a loud thump that made Sunset jump, so unexpected was the sound. Winter Schnee’s eyes widened, and Twilight covered her mouth as a gasp escaped her lips.

“It spoke?” Rainbow demanded.

“That’s what you’re concerned about?” Blake asked.

“Well, how are you sure it actually used magic,” Rainbow said. “Some grimm do have energy weapons, like the dragon.”

“I know the difference between magic and generic energy,” Sunset replied. “I can … feel the difference. Trust me, this was magic.”

General Ironwood’s mouth was open slightly, and widening of his eyes seemed to accentuate the dark circles around them. “Magic,” he murmured. “And it spoke to you? What did it say?”

“Just my name, sir, but that was bad enough,” Sunset said.

“You’re certain?” General Ironwood demanded. “You didn’t imagine it.”

“No, sir, I didn’t imagine a grimm that knew my name and could let me know,” Sunset said. “I apologise if that sounded sharp, but I know what happened, and I know that it really happened.”

“Didja kill it?” Applejack asked.

“Unfortunately not,” Sunset admitted. “I’m not even sure … it was very strong, it shrugged off my magic; even Ruby’s silver eyes barely slowed it down. We had to make a run for it. Luckily, Cardin was nearby with an airship to pick us up.”

“You had to run?” Rainbow asked. “From a grimm?”

Sunset did not reply. She felt no need to reply, having already given the answer, and giving it once had been bad enough in view of what the answer was.

Silence descended in the office.

“Lady of the North protect us,” Ciel whispered.

General Ironwood bowed his head momentarily. “This grimm,” he said, and his voice seemed slower now than it had been, “if indeed it was a grimm, what did it look like?”

“A karkadann,” Sunset said. “It was very large, but it had less armour than you’d expect on a grimm of such advanced age and intelligence. We flew back to Beacon, but Professor Goodwitch didn’t know anything about it, and nor — more recently -– did Principal Celestia or Vice Principal Luna.”

“Nor I,” General Ironwood said. “Is this something Oz knew about but kept to himself, or is this some new devilry that she’s only just come up with? Don’t worry, I don’t expect a response.” He reached up and pinched between his brows. “Magic, and intelligent enough to speak.”

“It’s not that bad, sir,” Rainbow ventured. “No matter how many tricks it’s got, it’ll still die like all the rest, once one of our cruisers unloads on it.”

“You haven’t seen these things,” Sunset said. “I told you, Ruby’s eyes—”

“We can drop a lot of bombs,” Rainbow maintained.

“'Things'?” General Ironwood repeated. “There are more of them?”

Sunset sighed. “When we arrived at Beacon, we decided that — since it appeared that Salem was hunting for Ruby — that she and her father would accompany me and Cinder and Cardin to Anima to search for Professor Ozpin; it would be safer for them than sticking around, and it would draw this grimm — and Salem’s agents — away from Vale, which didn’t need to come under attack again on our behalf. Trusting in secrecy, we set out overland, aiming to cross the mountains and the unsettled land in the east of Sanus and hopefully find a boat on the east coast to take us across the strait to Anima. On our way there, we were followed and attacked by two more such grimm. One of them looked like a…” — she stopped herself from saying ‘alicorn’ and chose a phrasing that would mean more to General Ironwood — “a winged karkadann, or a karkadann crossed with a pegasus; slighter in build than the first grimm to attack us. The last resembled a kind of ursa; it used what seemed to be a magical staff.”

“They’re usin’ weapons now?” Applejack exclaimed.

“They killed Emerald Sustrai as we were crossing the mountains,” Sunset went on. “We also had some trouble with someone named Grogar who dwelled in the mountain pass, but we managed to kill him, so that’s not something to worry about. In any case, we did manage to cross the mountains despite their best efforts, and on the other side, we befriended the Frost Mountain Clan, one of the wandering tribes that live on that side of the mountains, in the land that was abandoned after the Great War. They — later joined by the Summer Fire Clan — brought us to a place called Freeport, which I believe was founded by the Valish during their very first attempt to colonise the east, then refounded by the Mistralians during their attempt at colonisation just before the war, and now is the nascent centre of an emerging kingdom.”

“A kingdom?” Lady Nikos asked. “You spoke of wandering tribes.”

“Estmorland, as the land is known, is a patchwork place, my lady,” Sunset explained. “Wandering clans — Frost Mountain, Summer Fire, Ice River, Fall Forest — small steadings where a single landowner and his household live behind a ditch and palisade with some livestock and a few crops; villages and modest towns. And Freeport, the most significant town in the region, where the Sun Queen made her home.”

“The Sun Queen?” Blake asked.

“Yes,” Sunset said. “Her real name was…” You’re not the Princess of Deceit, go on, get it over with. “Sunset Shimmer.”

“Say what now?” Applejack said flatly.

“Long story short: I’m not from Remnant, I’m actually a unicorn from the magical land of Equestria, I was turned into this faunus form by magic, I had an actual human counterpart on Remnant, and she was ruling Freeport and calling herself the Sun Queen,” Sunset said quickly.

“You rattled through those words too fast to follow on purpose, didn’t ya?” Applejack demanded.

“It’s an amazing place!” Penny exclaimed. “Equestria, I mean. Sunset let me go there after the Breach, with Blake, and everyone was so cheerful and welcoming, and the other Twilight Sparkle is a princess—”

“'A princess'?” Twilight repeated.

“You went there?!” General Ironwood demanded. “Dash, did you know about this?”

“I … didn’t see any harm in it, sir. I agreed with Sunset that it would cheer Penny up.”

“I see,” General Ironwood murmured. “I suppose there are more important things to worry about right now.”

“Another world?” Lady Nikos repeated.

Sunset turned to her, and bowed her head. “I apologise for the omission, my lady, but I hope you can understand that it is a … difficult subject to broach, especially since I must balance the truth against my obligations to my homeworld and those who live there. I only speak the truth here because of my trust in all those presently gathered.” She paused. “I hope you can also understand, my lady, that I am still me. Although I am not quite what you thought I was, my heart and soul are still the same as ever they were since our acquaintance. I am still Pyrrha’s friend, still the person you saw fit to grant Soteria.”

“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Does Pyrrha know?”

“Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby were the first people to whom I revealed the truth, my lady,” Sunset confirmed.

“As it should be,” Lady Nikos said with a nod of her head. “As you say, you are the person I have known, for the most part.”

“I was as honest as I dared, my lady; all that I told you of my background was true … in all but geography.”

“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “I suppose that does explain your courtly manners.”

Sunset ventured a smile. “Indeed, my lady.” She returned her attention to General Ironwood to continue her account. “My alternate self, the other Sunset Shimmer, the Sun Queen, had begun the process of uniting Estmorland under her rule: villages, clans, and steadings acknowledged her dominion, and from Freeport, her rangers sallied out to keep the peace. They have even begun mining for dust, although it is slow-going since their methods are very primitive. They have no advanced technology there; the best they have is equipment left over from the Great War, and even that is not widespread. The Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire clans had only spears and shields and bows and the like: no dust, no guns; all of the luxuries, or at least what pass for luxuries in Estmorland, were reserved for Freeport and the Sun Queen’s own forces. When we arrived there, the Sun Queen welcomed us, and we were hopeful that we could get a boat to Anima.”

“And yet you’re here instead,” General Ironwood observed. “So what happened?”

“We were betrayed,” Sunset said. “Tyrian arrived in Freeport not long after we did, and the Sun Queen … took counsel of her fears and decided to hand Ruby over to Tyrian in exchange for a guarantee that Salem would leave her and the kingdom she was building be. I was … indisposed, thanks to the semblance of one of the Sun Queen’s lieutenants,” — that, perhaps, was not honest, but it was also personal, and Sunset had no desire to relive that particular trauma, not when it had no bearing on current events — “but thankfully, the clans of Frost Mountain and Summer Fire took our part, and in the confusion, I was able to escape and … kill the Sun Queen.”

“Lift up your shirt,” Rainbow said.

Sunset looked at her. “What?”

“Lift up your shirt,” Rainbow said. “You just told us that you had an evil duplicate; I want to make sure that you’re not her and that you didn’t murder our Sunset, take her place, and come here to spin us a yarn.”

“That…” That’s actually what the other me should have had Dawn do once she took over my body. “That would be devious, but it’s not what happened. And even if it were, how would the other me know all about Salem and everything else?”

“You could have interrogated our Sunset first.”

“I am your Sunset!” Sunset yelled. She huffed. “I take it that it’s the scar you want to see?”

Rainbow nodded.

“Alright, fine,” Sunset said. “General, forgive me.” She shrugged off her jacket, dumping it on the floor of General Ironwood’s office as she used her telekinesis to undo the straps securing her cuirass and remove it from her torso, holding it suspended in the air beside her while she lifted up her shirt just enough to reveal the scar where Adam had impaled her upon his sword. “There? See?”

Rainbow bent down to get a better look at it. “Okay, yeah, it is you,” she admitted. “It would have been embarrassing otherwise after the way we welcomed you back.”

Sunset snorted as she put her cuirass and jacket back on. “After the Queen’s death,” she continued, “Freeport came under attack by a large host of grimm led by those three special grimm that had dogged our steps since Patch. I was able to destroy a lot of them with my powers, but ultimately, it was Ruby who saved the city with her silver eyes, vanquishing so many of the horde that the remainder fell back.”

“Even the special grimm who were immune to silver eyes?” Applejack asked.

“I think it hurts them, even if it doesn’t affect them too much,” Sunset replied. “That’s my guess, anyway, judging by the way that they became progressively less eager to get to grips with us, preferring to send armies of grimm our way instead.”

“So they can control grimm?” Blake said. “Corral them into obeying them, like apex alphas?”

“I suppose that’s an apt comparison,” Sunset admitted.

General Ironwood closed his eyes for a moment, and in that moment, Sunset half-thought that he would fall asleep.

“What happened after the battle was done?” Winter asked. “You came here, I presume, but Ruby Rose and her father?”

“Remained in Freeport,” Sunset said. “After the battle was done, the leaders of the clans who had rescued us, and the remaining authority in Freeport, elected Ruby to be their new queen, ruler of Estmorland, and she accepted.”

“'Queen'?” Blake repeated. “Queen Ruby?”

“Is that so surprisin’, Warrior Princess of Menagerie?” Applejack asked, amusement in her voice.

Blake chuckled. “That… well, when you put it like that, I suppose … it is a little surprising, though.”

“But true,” Sunset declared. “In place of a Sun Queen, they have a Rose Queen, and fairer than the word of wondrous virtues. Ruby will do everything she can to build a new kingdom east of the mountains, a place that can stand alongside Vale and Mistral and even Atlas. It has potential: the people who dwell there are as hardy as the Vacuans and infinitely kinder—“

“Hey!” Sun exclaimed, evidently deciding that the offence meritted speaking up about.

“Sorry,” Sunset said, “but you have to admit that some of your countrymen are … kind of jackasses.”

“Some,” Sun allowed, “but not most.”

“Some is enough,” muttered Ciel.

“The point is that they are hardy, able to survive in a harsh environment with few luxuries,” Sunset said, “but they are also kind, welcoming to strangers, honourable in their dealings, and desirous of a better future for the generations that will come after them.”

She was aware that she was probably coming closer to lying to the assembled company than at any time since she had started talking — certainly she was sugaring the pill somewhat. None of what she had said was untrue, per se, but it was not all true of all people: the Fall Forest clan could hardly be described as kind or welcoming, while the Frost Mountain clan was kind and welcoming but did not really desire a better future. On the whole, though, she felt she was painting a reasonably accurate picture of the good folk of Estmorland, and as Ruby’s ambassador, she felt she had more licence to spin the facts in favour of Ruby and Freeport than she had in the rest of her narrative.

“Which is why I am here,” she concluded. “Obviously, I am here as Professor Ozpin’s good servant, charged by Professor Goodwitch and by Amber’s spirit to find and to protect him, but I am also the ambassador from the Rose Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, and I have come to Atlas to request your aid, General.”

General Ironwood stared up at her with his tired eyes. He did not move. For a while, he let the silence linger, for so long that Sunset began to fear that he had dozed off with his eyes closed and hadn’t heard the last things she’d said.

Eventually, he said, “What would you have of me? What would you have of Atlas?”

“From you, sir, military aid to Freeport, to help Ruby solidify her position across the country and to protect the capital against any further grimm attacks that may transpire. Trust me, General, when I say that the people of Estmorland will not forget it if you render aid to them and will repay that aid during your time of need, should you have need.”

“What need would we have of such primitive people?” Ciel asked.

“I don’t know,” Sunset admitted, “but you’ll regret that attitude if you ever do find yourselves in need.” She paused for a moment. “Still, hold to your pride if you wish; I have no right to condemn you for such unduly. I know what it is to hold pride dear and precious. Very well then, act not for the sake of your own future advantage but for Freeport’s present: send aid to them because they are in need of aid. Is it not Atlas’ charge to defend all peoples, to be the shield of men? Those who dwell east of the mountains are no less men than those who live on the western side, and just as vulnerable, if not more so.

“What aid I would have from Atlas is — and I’m aware that this may be difficult, considering my history — an audience with the Council, and with Jacques Schnee, to discuss putting relations between this new nascent kingdom and Atlas upon a firm foundation and to discuss the sale of mining rights in Estmorland to the SDC.”

“You’re talking about untapped dust reserves, untroubled by previous development, and you’re just going to sell it to the SDC?” Blake asked.

Sunset looked back at her. “What else should Ruby seek to do?”

“Menagerie is going to develop its own dust reserves, for its own benefit,” Blake informed her.

“That’s wonderful for Menagerie,” Sunset said, “but Freeport has no lien to buy state of the art mining equipment — no lien for anything, in fact; Menagerie might not have been recognised as a kingdom, but it was still part of the economy of Remnant. Freeport needs money now more than it needs the potential to have dust years in the future. Selling off the dust rights for a quick payday may be selling off the family silver, but family silver is worthless if you don’t have a house to store it.”

“At least talk to Councillor Cadenza before you talk to Jacques Schnee,” Blake urged. “Perhaps Freeport can get a loan, like Menagerie did—”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing that Atlas can do for this … place,” General Ironwood said, his voice heavy, the words seeming to fall out of his mouth to thump down onto the desk in front of him. “I’m sorry, Miss Shimmer, but your request for assistance is denied.”

Silence descended upon the room like a bomb, dropped from one of the cruisers of which the Atlesians were so fond.

Sunset felt her mouth dry up. Denied? Just like that, denied? Flat out denied? Rejected? There was nothing that Atlas could do? There was nothing that Atlas was willing to do?

Atlas, or General Ironwood?

Sunset turned her back on Blake, on Cinder, on Rainbow Dash, on all others; she faced General Ironwood squarely across his desk.

She remained silent a little while, choosing her words, choosing her plan of attack. She would not shout. She was an ambassador, and a princess besides, and throwing a tantrum wouldn’t get her anywhere. More to the point, it wouldn’t help Ruby either.

But she had no intention of letting this go and conceding defeat.

First, she needed to understand his reasons, then she could counter them.

“May I ask why that is, sir?” Sunset asked quietly.

General Ironwood closed his eyes for a moment. “Think about what you’re asking me, Miss Shimmer,” he murmured. “Communications are down. I have no word from Vale or Mistral or Vacuo or Menagerie. I know nothing about what is going on beyond Solitas, save the news that you and Lady Nikos have brought to me, and the messages that came and went between Atlas and Menagerie. I am blind. I don’t know where Salem is going to strike next, and by her own admissions, neither does Miss Fall. Perhaps Mistral is her target. Or perhaps all of this with Chrysalis in Mistral is merely a diversion, perhaps all of this, pursuing you to Freeport, perhaps it’s all intended to make me weaken our defences before she falls upon us!

“And you come to me, and you tell me a story about three extraordinary grimm, three grimm who are more powerful, more intelligent, who can use magic for gods’ sakes, and you ask me to send my ships, my men, out of contact and into danger?” General Ironwood let the question hang there in the air like cigarette smoke, poisoning the room.

“I’m asking you to help those who need and humbly request your aid,” Sunset said softly.

General Ironwood got up. He turned his back on Sunset and walked to the window at the back of his office. In the day, Sunset imagined that you could see right across Atlas from out of that window, set so high in this tower of steel and glass, but it was night time now, and all that she could see were lights blinking in the dark — and General Ironwood’s own visage reflected back at her in the glass.

He looked so tired.

He leaned upon the window, resting one arm against it.

“Oz thought that I didn’t value his counsel,” General Ironwood said, his voice sounding almost mournful. “He believed that I didn’t appreciate his wisdom. Neither of those things were true. Since he died, I have been … blind as I am, fumbling as I am, guessing her intentions as I am forced to do, I … I want his counsel. I want him to tell me that I’m doing the right thing. I want him to assume his rightful place at the head of our efforts — here, in Atlas, where he will have the power to make real moves and real decisions.

“But as I told Oz once, I am not merely a part of his inner circle; I am an Atlesian officer, and I have duties to the Kingdom of Atlas that take precedence over my other responsibilities. I must defend this kingdom. I must keep it safe and secure; though all the rest of Remnant fall, the light must shine in Atlas.

“I’m sorry, Miss Shimmer. I’m sorry that this leaves Miss Rose … that this leaves Queen Ruby in an awkward position. My advice to her is to get out while she can, make her way here, then she can remain with us or go on to Mistral as she wishes. But I cannot waste the strength of Atlas on something like this, on a little land far away. Not with so many dangers to contend with, including the new ones that you have just described.”

“And what of Mistral, General Ironwood?” Lady Nikos demanded. “Are we also a little land far away?”

Sunset let out a breath. She did not speak, and she was both grateful to Lady Nikos for speaking but at the same time wished she had not done so, or at least used sweeter words.

All the same, General Ironwood’s refusal to send any succour to Freeport did paint his actions regarding Mistral in a light that was … not sinister exactly, but … a team? Alright, a team led by his best people, but even so, one team? General Ironwood had brought a fleet to Vale when he thought it threatened, but only one team to Mistral? What had changed?

He didn’t feel so threatened then.

“Thank you for your report,” General Ironwood said. “Schnee will set you up with a room here in the Academy for the time being. We may speak again before you leave. That will be all.”

“With all respect, sir, I am not yet done,” Sunset replied.

“You’re dismissed, Miss Shimmer.”

“I am no soldier of Atlas, General, but an ambassador, and my suit is not concluded,” Sunset declared. She did not raise her voice, but spoke with firmness, making her voice as settled and immobile as a rock.

Princess of Hope. I hope that I can be all that I need to be.

All that Ruby needs me to be.

General Ironwood did not reply, but nor did he order her to be removed from his presence, which Sunset took to be a good sign.

Sunset looked over her shoulder. “Rainbow, are you okay with this?”

“You won’t force me to change my decision by lobbying my soldiers,” General Ironwood declared.

Sunset ignored him, for the moment. “Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow didn’t look away. “If Ruby were here, she might remember an essay that we worked on together, when she asked me how I could be a part of something that took my freedom to act away, that wouldn’t let me do what I thought was best.”

“Since Ruby isn’t here, perhaps you’d like to tell me the answer,” Sunset murmured.

“Trust,” Rainbow said. “I trust the General. I trust that he sees — that you see, sir — the big picture, the things that I don’t see. I trust that if I don’t agree with something, it’s because I don’t know all the details or because I’ve missed something or I just don’t get it. I trust General Ironwood. I’m sorry about Ruby, but if the General says it can’t be done, it can’t be done.”

Sunset nodded. “Blake?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I came here,” she said, “because I trusted that there were people who would do the right thing. But that doesn’t always mean doing the thing that we want to do. I’d like nothing more than to run to Ruby’s side and protect her from her enemies, but we can’t just do what we want. We have other responsibilities, we have to think about what we’re doing, and Rainbow’s right, no one is more aware of that than General Ironwood. I’m sorry that it’s not the answer that you want to hear, and I wish it could be different, but … I’m sure General Ironwood would help if he could.”

“I see,” Sunset murmured. “Ciel, Penny, is that your answer too? Applejack? Twilight? Do you trust that General Ironwood is making the right decision?”

“General Ironwood is a good man,” Twilight insisted. “We all have reason to remember that. I think that we all trust his judgement.”

Some men might have found themselves buoyed up all by this profusion of flattery, but judging by his reflection, General Ironwood was not affected by it. It was like rain upon the armour of one of his warships, powerless to affect the crew below decks or the workings of the vessel. That was both a good and bad thing.

Sunset looked down at her booted feet for a moment before she said, “I congratulate you, sir; you are blessed beyond measure in your misfortunes.”

“'Misfortunes'?” General Ironwood turned to look at her. “What are my misfortunes?”

“That in all this gallant company, there is not one who does not have such faith in you they cannot see that you are wrong,” Sunset said. “Their loyalty is splendid, and you do them a great disservice if you do not appreciate it.”

“I am very aware of my good fortune,” General Ironwood said, as he moved to sit down again, “but just because it’s not the decision you want doesn’t mean that—”

“When was the last time you slept, sir?” Sunset asked.

General Ironwood stared at her. “I was just about to—”

“With respect, sir, that is not what I asked.”

“I go to bed each night.”

“General Ironwood, with all due deference, the more you dodge the question, the more convinced I am that it was the right question to ask,” Sunset said. “Do you spend the night thinking up strategies or simply worrying about what the new day might bring?”

“What are you suggesting?” Aska demanded.

“I have seen the strength husbanded around this city, and I have heard General Ironwood’s words from his own lips; I’m not sure that suggestion or implication are required,” Sunset said to her. “General… I understand—”

“How could you possibly understand?” General Ironwood asked.

“It is true, I do not bear the weight of a kingdom on my shoulders,” Sunset allowed, “but I have been charged with safeguarding Professor Ozpin, our captain and our leader, our best hope to see off these thrusts of Salem, and I must guard him, and I must guide his new host into this new world. Amber prophesied that all would turn on him. That those whom he called friends would be his enemies, that swords would come out against him and that I would have to stand as his protector — perhaps his sole protector. Now, I cannot imagine how that might happen, but if you think that does not weigh upon me, General Ironwood, then you are mistaken in that also.

“General, I know that so much depends upon you. But General Ironwood … you are not alone. Look in this room: Rainbow Dash, Blake, Penny, Applejack, Ciel, Twilight. What benchmarks these of courage, loyalty, resolve, intellect? Will Atlas fall while Atlas breeds such folk as these? While you, sir, fashion soldiers of such spirit, and so devoted to you? No, I say that it will not, and furthermore, I say that Salem knows that it will not, and that, General, is why she yet will strike at Atlas last of all, if she strikes at all in ways that all your fleet assembled can defend against. Cinder says, with that too wicked tongue of hers, that it is Atlas’ missiles that Salem fears, but I say she was right the first time: it is your courage of which she is rightly wary, the courage that delivered Vale from her assault, the courage that has resisted her onslaughts and advances time and again, though those who resisted her knew not what they did. The courage that has defended the world for eighty years. That is what Salem fears, that Atlas will stride forth once more in all its power to the rescue of all places; that is why she smiles now to see your fleet so gathered, ringed around Atlas, to defend a place she could not take in a thousand years so long as one Atlesian soldier yet defended it.

“General Ironwood, you need not dwell thus in solitary darkness. You need not tremble. Put your faith in the gallant men and women who serve you as they put their faith in you. Put your faith in them and lay down some fraction of your burdens upon them. Trust them. Trust them to keep this kingdom safe and to bear you and as they bear you to bear the weight you carry until it feels as light as a feather to you.

“Put your faith in them and rest. Rest, sir, I beg of you, and then answer me anew with a heart unclouded by this darkness.”

Sunset took a step back. “And now my suit is concluded.”

General Ironwood did not meet her eyes. He looked down at his hands upon the desk and blinked, and then he closed his eyes and kept them closed for some time.

“Sir,” Rainbow said. “We’re all … if you thought that you needed to … we’re here for you, sir. You don’t need to be strong on our account. I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, for not trusting you more,” General Ironwood said. “For not trusting all of you. You deserve better.” Now he looked up, meeting Rainbow’s gaze, and Blake’s, and all his gallant soldiers. “You’re the future of this kingdom, all of you, and one day … one day, you’ll have to do this without me, so I’d better trust that you can manage it.” He pushed himself heavily to his feet. “Schnee, I’m going to bed. I’m going to sleep. Wake me if Atlas comes under attack.” He paused. “Wake me if Atlas comes under serious attack.”

The slightest hint of a smile appeared on the face of Winter Schnee. “I’ll bear your suggestion in mind, sir.”

The Dragonslayer and the Queen

The Dragonslayer and the Queen

“The rooms are smaller than they were at Beacon,” Penny explained as she led Sunset, Cinder, and Cardin down one of the many corridors that ran up, down, and through Atlas Academy. “It might take a little getting used to.”

“Trust us, Penny,” Sunset said. “After some of the places we have been sleeping lately, we aren’t in a position to complain that the dorm room isn’t big enough.”

“The last place we slept was a palace,” Cardin pointed out.

“And the place before that was a cocoon for me!” Sunset reminded him. “And before that, we were camping.”

“I guess,” Cardin agreed. “But now we’re back in an Academy, back in dorm rooms. Just like Beacon.”

Penny stopped, looking at them over her shoulder. “No,” she said softly, “it isn’t.”

A sigh escaped from Sunset’s lips. “No, you’re right; it isn’t,” she agreed. “It can’t be. We can’t … we can’t ever get those days back, as much as we might want to. We just have to—”

“Please don’t reach for cliché,” Cinder muttered.

Sunset fell silent for a moment, turning her head a little to glance at Cinder. That was the first thing that Cinder had said since they had left General Ironwood’s office, escorted by Penny — Rainbow, Ciel, Applejack, Blake, even Twilight had all accompanied General Ironwood — to their accommodation for the near future, until their business was concluded or they were ready to set out on the next leg of their journey or both. It had been something of a trek, especially since Penny had shown them around key points like the cafeteria rather than heading straight on to the dorm room, but Cinder had kept silent all through it. Perhaps it was simply weariness that stilled her tongue, but Sunset worried that it was more than that.

She had been very … ashamed? Embarrassed? What she had had to say in the General’s office to get Rainbow off her back had not been pleasant for her. Some of it had needed saying, perhaps, but that hadn’t made it any easier for Cinder to get the words out.

Sunset was concerned in part because of just what Cinder had chosen to say to break her silence. It reminded Sunset of their first conversation after Cinder’s allegiance to Salem had come out.

“I’d hoped to avoid reaching for cliché.”

And then they had gone on to discuss those three words, or rather, Cinder had raged at those three words while Sunset listened with a sort of horrified admiration.

“We can’t get the past back,” Sunset said, avoiding the cliché. “Everything ends, sooner or later. Everything ends, and it’s always sad. You’re right; it won’t be just like Beacon: Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby aren’t here—”

“Neither is Russel,” Cardin added. “And Weiss and Flash… well, they’re not really here, are they?”

“But since we can’t get the past back, we just have to focus on making new things,” Sunset went on. “Even when we get to Mistral with Pyrrha and Jaune, things still won’t be like they were back then. They’ll be different, they’ll be something else … but that something else can still be pretty cool.”

Penny smiled, but it was a sad smile, touched by melancholy. “I wish I was going with you,” she said.

“Can you not?” Sunset asked. “Why don’t you talk to Rainbow?”

“I’ll try,” Penny murmured. “But I don’t think they’ll let me. I don’t think they’ll let the Dragonslayer disappear to Mistral like that. I’m too important. I have to stay here to be shown off for people.”

“You may not like it,” Cardin said, “but people need hope at a time like this, and hope needs symbols. Everyone can scoff, or wring their hands in horror at what’s going on in Vale, but we need symbols to inspire the people, and the old ones weren’t cutting it. The fact that you’re one of those symbols… it’s good work, even if it isn’t the work that you want.”

“I know,” Penny murmured. She clasped her hands together in front of her and looked down at them. “But I would have liked to have seen them again.”

“Well, I can’t do that,” Sunset said, a smile spreading across her face. “But do you want to talk to Ruby for a bit?”

Penny gasped, her green eyes widening. “Really? I would love to! But … how? The CCT is down, and even if it wasn’t, I don’t think they have coverage out in the wilds.”

Sunset patted the satchel she wore across her shoulders, containing the magic journals that she had brought back from Equestria. “I,” she said, “have got a magic book, that when I write in it, the words appear in another magic book that Ruby has.”

If Penny’s eyes got much wider, they were going to pop right out of her head. “Really?”

“How do you think I arranged for you to go to Equestria?” Sunset asked.

“I … didn’t really think about it,” Penny admitted. “So you’d let me borrow that book?”

“I’ll be there too,” Sunset said. “I need to tell Ruby and her father about Yang—”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Cardin asked.

Sunset turned her back on Penny so that she could turn on Cardin in every sense. She glared at him, her ears drooping. “Are you serious?”

“If Ruby finds out that her sister is alive, won’t she be distracted?” Cardin said. “She’s engaged in very delicate work, trying to build a kingdom out of sticks and mud and good intentions. She needs to be focussed on the job—”

“So what, I should just keep the fact that her sister is alive from her?” Sunset demanded.

“What if she drops everything and ditches Freeport to run to Anima to look for Yang?” Cardin asked.

“Ruby is not that kind of person!” Sunset snapped, her voice rising. “Ruby is the most duty-bound person I have ever met, and the most selfless besides. She’ll do what she has to, no matter how much it hurts.”

Those were not entirely good things, in Sunset’s opinion, but they would be good things for Freeport in the current circumstances; they would continue to be able to count on their Rose Queen, no matter what she learned about what was going on in the rest of Remnant.

“And I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that,” she said, her voice descending to a sort of growl.

Cardin flinched. “I was only thinking—”

“I’m not going to lie to her,” Sunset declared. “Not again.” She didn’t give him the chance to reply, turning her back on him and facing Penny once again. “So, what do you say? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

“And I’d love to talk to her again too,” Penny cried excitedly. “When can we start? Can we start now?”

“Why don’t you show us to our room first?” Sunset suggested gently. “Then you and I can go somewhere private and leave Cinder and Cardin in peace.”

“I need to call Weiss once we’ve dropped our bags off,” Cardin said. “Or Flash. Or both of them.”

Cinder didn’t say what she might be doing.

“Oh, right,” Penny said. “Yes, of course. Sorry, I just … sorry. It’s this way. It’s not much farther now.”

She quickened her step, eagerness and impatience making her walk faster than before, so fast that, despite her diminutive height, Sunset had to almost jog in order to keep up with her. After not much longer, she brought them to a corridor that was dark until they entered it, the lights turning on only as they set foot upon the carpet.

“This part of the Academy is only occupied when Atlas is hosting the Vytal Festival,” Penny explained. “It’s where the students from Beacon stay when they visit. So you won’t get a lot of people coming and going, and you won’t be disturbed.”

“Appropriate, too,” Sunset remarked.

Penny nodded. “I thought so,” she said. She stopped outside the second door down the corridor. “And this one’s your room!” she said, gesturing at the door with both hands.

The door slid open. The room within was smaller than the dorms at Beacon; it was very narrow, and about a third of it was taken up by the beds, for all that they were bunks — or pods — stacked up two by two against the wall.

Nevertheless, as Sunset had said, considering some of the places where she had been forced to sleep, she wasn’t in much of a mood to complain.

“Thanks, Penny,” she said. “So, do you guys want top bu—?”

Cinder brushed past her, walking immediately to the nearest bottom bunk and crawling on top of it; it was a little too small for her, so she had to hunch up her legs.

Or, given how it seemed as though she were curling up into a near foetal position, maybe she just felt like doing it.

Her back was to them, and she said nothing.

“Cinder?” Sunset asked.

Cinder still said nothing.

Cardin cleared his throat. He sidled around Sunset and crept into the room, staying only long enough to drop off his backpack before leaving again. “I, uh, I’m going to see if I can get hold of Weiss,” he said, walking away with undue haste and not another word.

Sunset stared at Cinder, on the other side of the door, curled up in bed, her back to the world. She glanced at Penny. “I’ll just be a minute,” she whispered, before entering the room.

The door slid shut behind her, leaving Penny outside.

Sunset stepped lightly across the carpeted floor of the dorm room, depositing her bags down on the floor as quietly as she could.

“Cinder?” she asked again.

Still no response.

Sunset’s brow creased. She walked — 'crept' might have been a more apt description — over to Cinder’s bed, and sat down upon the edge of it. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Go,” Cinder said. “I’m sure that Penny is barely containing herself.”

Sunset put one hand on Cinder’s shoulder. “What—?”

“Go,” Cinder repeated, her voice sharpening this time. “Please just go.”

Sunset looked away, the creasing of her brow becoming a full-on frown. She pursed her lips. Her ears, which had only just recovered after the dressing down she had given Cardin, now drooped once again. She didn’t want to leave Cinder, not when she was obviously upset about something, but at the same time … Penny was waiting, and there were things that Ruby needed to know.

And Cinder didn’t seem to want her around right now.

She bent down and kissed Cinder on the shoulder. “I’ll be back,” she promised, before getting up and making her way back to the door.

It slid open, revealing Penny bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet on the other side.

Sunset raised one hand, and the green glow of magic consumed her palm and the Freeport journal as it flew out of her satchel and into her hand. “Okay,” she said as she stepped through the door and heard it close behind her with a hiss. “I’m ready now.”

Penny grinned, although the grin faltered a little as she asked, “Is Cinder going to be okay on her own?”

“I hope so,” Sunset said. “She’s … probably the most resilient person I know. She always bounces back from practically anything.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Penny said. “I meant, is she going to be okay left on her own?”

“You don’t trust her either?” Sunset asked.

“She was our enemy,” Penny pointed out.

“And now she isn’t,” Sunset replied.

Penny blinked. “Do you really think it’s that simple?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “People change sides in war. Look at Blake.”

“That’s different,” Penny said. “Blake is … Blake is kind.”

“And Cinder is proud,” Sunset said. “Yet if it were not for her, then Ruby would be dead by now.”

Penny gasped. “Really?”

“Really,” Sunset confirmed. “I couldn’t get to her, no one could, there was only Cinder; it nearly cost her her own life, but she kept Ruby safe. She may not be as humble as some would like, she may not express sufficient remorse for the liking of some, she may not feel that she has as much to be remorseful for as others do, but by her deeds in the darkness, she has proven herself, and more than once.”

Penny hesitated for a moment. “Do you trust her?”

“I do,” Sunset said without hesitation. And besides, she hardly seems in the mood to burn down Atlas, or whatever else you think she might do. “Now, where shall we go?”

Penny’s eyes lit up once more with enthusiasm. “I know just the place!” she said. “Come on, follow me; it’s this way!”

She rushed past Sunset, heading back the way that she had come. Sunset followed, a smile on her face, glad to have gotten over the hump of that particular issue and back onto more pleasant topics, even if she did have to run to catch up with Penny.

Penny led her up corridors, and up flights of stairs as well, too impatient to wait for any elevators; when they came to a lift, she would push the button, stand there for a couple of seconds, waiting — bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet all the while — before declaring that it would be quicker to take the stairs, come on, this way.

And so they climbed and moved and ascended upwards, ever upwards, higher and higher up the highest tower in Atlas, until at last, they emerged onto the roof.

It was still night time — of course it was; for all that it felt as though that conversation in General Ironwood’s office had taken hours, it hadn’t actually taken very much time at all — and the sky was dark all around them. Dark, and yet illuminated in all directions by lights: the neon lights of the city; the illuminated signs of the big businesses whose own towers rose out of the earth in futile competition for the academy in height; the pilot lights of the cruisers hovering in place; the moving lights of the smaller, more nimble airships flying here and there, filling the air with the whine of their engines. The stars were invisible, drowned out by all the light that man was making, but at the same time, it hardly seemed to matter, because standing here, on top of Atlas Academy, it was like floating in a field of stars.

All the city lights burned bright below, and all the lights burned bright above and all around on General Ironwood’s airships. All the lights in Atlas shone, and though it was night, the darkness had no dominion, for the light of Atlas chased it all away.

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Penny asked as she walked to the very edge of the roof, where the shining metallic guard rail was supplemented by sheets of glass to prevent anyone from slipping out beneath.

“It’s magnificent,” Sunset said, coming to join her. Atlas would never be her favourite place in all of Remnant — it was too modern, and too vulgar in its modernity — but at the same time, she could not deny that it was an impressive sight, this work of man. A city in the clouds, and them without even the ability to walk on clouds.

Yes, what they had done merited some respect, even if Sunset didn’t particularly like the result.

“Are you sure we won’t be disturbed out here?” she asked.

Penny shook her head. “Not that many people come up here,” she said. “And not at night.”

“Why not?” Sunset asked. “This view is incredible.”

“I don’t know,” Penny said. “Perhaps people just don’t appreciate what they take for granted?”

“Probably,” Sunset muttered. She knew that feeling well enough. She sat down upon the cold but clean-looking grey ceiling tiles, resting the journal upon her lap. “I’ll just say hello, and then I’ll hand it over to you,” she said, as Penny sat down beside her.

“Aren’t you going to tell her about Yang?” Penny asked.

“Not yet,” Sunset said. “I mean, not right away. Cardin wasn’t entirely wrong; if I tell her about Yang, then it will be the only thing that we talk about, for understandable reasons, but … I’ll let you spend some time catching up, let you talk about something … something else, for a little bit first.”

Penny frowned. “Are you sure? You said to Cardin that—”

“It’s not like I’m not going to tell her,” Sunset said. “It’s not even as if I’m proposing to keep this a secret for even so much as a day. There’s a difference between choosing to hold off for a little bit and choosing to keep silent. Trust me, Penny, I’m not doing anything wrong, and neither are you.”

Penny was silent for a moment. “I would like to talk to her.”

“And you will,” Sunset promised. “Just give me a second, okay?” She opened up the journal. With all the lights of Atlas shining below, she didn’t need to cast any spells upon her eyes to be able to see the paper in front of her. Sunset fished a pen out of her pocket and started to write.

Hey, Ruby, are you there?

There was a pause. Sunset glanced at Penny. There was a touch of sheepish laughter in her voice as she said, “Of course, something that we didn’t consider is that she might have gone to bed by now.”

“I guess it is kind of late,” Penny murmured. “Do you think we should try again in the morning?”

“No need to give up just yet,” Sunset replied. “Just … if she doesn’t reply, that’s probably why not. Either that, or she’s in a late night conference with her lords and chieftains and can’t be disturbed.”

Hey, Sunset.

“Ah,” Sunset said. “Here we go.”

Did I wake you?

No, although I was going to turn in.

Is that a hint?

No, it’s fine. I probably won’t sleep anyway, the way I am now.

Sunset felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that Ruby almost certainly wouldn’t sleep once Sunset was through, but not enough to make her reconsider. Apart from anything else, Ruby wouldn’t forgive her for keeping this secret from her. And she had a right to know, by all natural justice.

No, she had to tell, regardless of what state Ruby was in to hear the news.

How are things?

Being queen was a lot easier in the books. I wish I could just pull a sword from a stone, hold it up and shout ‘behold!’ and everyone would bow before me.

Rough day?

Everyone wants something. Everyone wants more than I can give them.

I’d ask if you want any advice, but you have better people to counsel you than me.

Ember and Rutherford do their best, but I’d welcome anything that you have to say.

Sunset glanced at Penny.

“It’s fine,” she said. “You’ll do better helping her out than I can.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Sunset muttered.

So what’s the problem?

There are two villages, not far from Freeport. They’ve both acknowledged me as the new queen, which is good, except now I have to solve their problems because I’m their queen.

Are they under attack?

I wish. No, I don’t really, except that if they were under attack, I’d know what to do about it: I could lead the Rangers out and defend them from the grimm or whoever was attacking them. No, the problem is that they’re fighting amongst themselves. They both claim ownership over some land that lies between the two settlements. Apparently, they’ve been feuding over it for as long as the two villages have existed.

And it hasn’t been settled yet?

It’s been settled plenty of times, apparently; they just never accept the settlement. Laurel tells me that the Sun Queen fixed the boundary as the river that runs between the two villages, only now, the Sun Queen is, you know, so they’ve both come to me to argue the case in the hope that I’ll give them a better deal.

Loath as I am to credit the Sun Queen, fixing the boundary on the river doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Tell them that her settlement of the dispute stands and get rid of them.

I would, except the Sun Queen made her settlement stand by threatening to send her Rangers in if either side broke the peace. I don’t want to sic troops on my own people just because they won’t do what I say, but at the same time, if I can’t persuade them to settle this somehow, then they might start fighting each other, and if they do that, it will bring the grimm down on them. What am I supposed to do, Sunset?

Sunset hesitated for a moment. I take it there is nothing to suggest who is actually in the right, one way or the other?

No, it’s all too far back. Nothing was written down, and it’s all just memories — self-serving memories.

What do your advisors suggest?

Ember says that I should award the land to the village that didn’t divert the river when it served as their boundary.

One of them diverted the river?

They moved it so they could get more of the land.

I can see Ember’s point, that’s just cheeky; even if I do admire the audacity of it.

Torchwick says that they should be rewarded for their cleverness. I’ve just spent hours listening to them argue until I wanted to yell at them; there must be a way that I can resolve this.

Have you spoken to Princess Celestia?

Not yet.

You should definitely do that. I’m sure she’s encountered a problem like this at some point in her long reign.

Don’t you have any ideas?

From what you describe, I’m afraid I don’t think there is any way that you can please everyone. They both want too much, and are too entrenched in their positions, for there to be any solution in which one of them, at least, doesn’t feel as though they’ve lost out. But, since there is no proof one way or the other, then as I see it, you have three options: you can award all the land to the village that you like better, either because they’re more loyal, or because they can give you things the other cannot, or simply because that’s what your gut tells you; you can renew the Sun Queen’s judgement and set the river as the boundary — and maybe set it back in its original course or warn them not to divert it again; or you can split the land fifty-fifty between the two villages. But whatever you decide with regard to the land, I advise that you send a force of Rangers to occupy the disputed area between the two villages. Tell the villagers that they are there to protect them from the grimm — which they will do — and that said villages are required to help maintain them as the price of your protection: they have to feed and water your men, at least in part. They should get the message: play nice if you don’t want to be eaten out of house and home. Then, when things quiet down, you can move them out but threaten to send them back if grimm activity flares up again.

That might work, but it still sounds kind of harsh.

It’s a lot less harsh than attacking people, and to be honest, considering what you’ve told me about these people, it might be no less than they deserve. It’s your choice, and I would certainly consult Princess Celestia and take her advice over mine, but that’s what I think.

I’ll think about it. Like I said, I can see that it might work. It’s not really what I want to do, but I’m not sure how much choice they’re leaving me. Is Princess Celestia there now?

No, I’m afraid not. I’m actually in Atlas right now, and I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you. She slid the book over to Penny. “Sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s fine,” Penny assured her, as she plucked the pen from Sunset’s unprotesting fingers. She began to write in a furious scrawl.

Salutations, Queen Ruby! It’s me, Penny!

Penny! Oh, you don’t have to call me queen or anything, Penny; Ruby is just fine. In fact, I’d really prefer it; I’ve had enough people calling me queen for a day.

Okay, then, Ruby it is. But I still can’t believe you’re a queen!

You heard, then. Sunset told you?

It was one of the first things she told me when she arrived in Atlas! I’d say that I was so happy for you, but it doesn’t sound as though that’s what you want to hear.

Have you seen what I had to say to Sunset?

Yes.

Then yeah, it’s not exactly leading armies all the time. Which is good, because it means that there isn’t anyone around right now who I should be leading an army against, but all the same, this is why I always wanted to be Olivia, not King Edward.

You mean from that book Dove gave you?

That’s right. I always wanted to be the knight errant, riding out to take care of trouble wherever it reared its ugly head; instead, I’m going to be the one sending out other people to take care of trouble, unless the trouble gets so big that I have to take care of it myself. Dad says that I can’t just go off whenever there’s a report of grimm, and I get why: I’m the queen, and I’m the one who has to make all of the decisions, but at the same time, that means that I have to make other people run the risks, face the dangers, while all I can do is

Trust them? That sounds a lot like General Ironwood.

There was a pause from Ruby before she announced. Huh, I suppose it does, doesn’t it? That’s ironic.

Because of what you and Rainbow talked about during your essay together?

How do you know about that?

It came up not too long ago, during Sunset’s meeting with General Ironwood.

That’s a weird coincidence. Yeah, I hadn’t thought about that, but yeah, you’re right. It’s funny; I said to Rainbow Dash at the time that I preferred to be able to make my own choices, decide where I wanted to go, what battles I wanted to fight, and that I didn’t get how she could just give that up and place her will in the hands of a man like General Ironwood. Now, I suppose I’m on the other side of that; I probably wouldn’t be too happy if Ember or Rutherford or one of my rangers decided to go off on their own because they didn’t think I’d made the right decision.

I don’t always like the decisions that General Ironwood makes for me, but I don’t envy the decisions that he has to make.

Are you okay, Penny? What does General Ironwood have you doing?

Performing.

What do you mean?

I’m touring Atlesian settlements selling war bonds. Apparently, Penny Dragonslayer is more use keeping morale up than slaying any more dragons.

'Penny Dragonslayer'? Is that what they’re calling you now?

The slight smile on Penny’s face told Sunset that she had meant for Ruby to pick up on that.

Yes.

That is so cool! That is the coolest thing; that is so much cooler than the Rose Queen, or the Queen of Roses, or the Silver Queen, or any of the things that I get called.

But isn’t the Silver Queen about your silver eyes?

Yeah, but it still just sounds as if I have lots of money. Which I don’t, and I kind of wish I did, because then I could buy stuff for Freeport, but I don’t, and anyway, it’s just not as cool as being called 'Dragonslayer.'

Well, you’ll just have to find a dragon of your own to kill.

The one thing about being here in Freeport is that they probably would start to call me that if I could find a dragon. But I probably won’t. Like I said, I wouldn’t be allowed to go and fight it even if one did show up. I have to leave that to other people now.

The smile fell from Penny’s face. It seems like neither of us got what we wanted. Or else, we got exactly what we wanted, just in the worst possible way.

No, I’m pretty sure I never wanted anything like this.

Then why did you take it?

Because no one else could. Or no one else would. Or probably the best way to say it is that nobody who could have, would, and nobody who would have, ought to. Does that make sense?

I think so. Anybody else who might have wanted to be queen shouldn’t be?

Pretty much. How much has Sunset told you about the Sun Queen?

I know that she was another Sunset Shimmer.

Yes, she was, and that’s very weird, but it’s not really the most important thing about her. The important thing is that she wanted to be queen. She wanted to rule. She wanted to be the boss, and so, to stay on top ,she was willing to use her troops to enforce her will, to arrest people, to hand me over to Salem, just for the sake of her own power. That’s the kind of person who wants to be queen, and while there aren’t that many people who want to rule Estmorland, there are plenty, I think, who would like to be kings of their own little castles, and not all of them can be trusted with it. I don’t know if I can be the queen that Freeport and Estmorland need — the kind who puts her subjects before herself, the kind who builds a kingdom, the kind who protects her people and leaves them a land that was safer and more secure than when she found it — but I’m determined to try my best.

And I know you’ll succeed.

That’s nice to hear, but how can you be so sure?

Because you’re Ruby Rose, and you can do anything, and you’ll let nothing stop you!

Thanks, Penny. It’s good to know that I’ve still got you on my side, no matter how far away you are.

I wish that you were here, or I was there.

I wish that too, Penny. More I wish that I was there with all of you. How are things in Atlas? Is everyone okay?

I don’t know absolutely everyone, but the people I know are all okay. Things are alright here in Atlas, mostly, but I’m afraid it’s not all good. Jacques Schnee is running for a seat on the Council, and people seem to think he’ll win.

“What?” Sunset exclaimed. “I’m sorry, but what? Nobody mentioned that to me!”

“You didn’t ask,” Penny replied.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “How was I supposed to know that I had to ask?”

“But isn’t this good for you?” Penny asked. “You want to sell him Ruby’s dust, right?”

That might actually not be such a bad thing. I mean, I do want to sell him the dust mining rights, and with him on the Council too, he’ll be willing to support us.

“No,” Sunset said. “No, that’s wrong; you’re both wrong. Just because I am willing to deal with the man with regards to business for Ruby’s sake and that of her people does not mean that it is a good idea for a shopkeeper to be voted onto the ruling council.” A man in trade, making the laws, can you conceive of it?

This would never have happened in Equestria.

Sunset’s not very happy about it.

I love Sunset, but she can be a terrible snob sometimes. Did she say something really stuck up?

“I … that is so…” Sunset’s mouth worked in silent indignation. “I am not a snob; I have standards.”

She called Mister Schnee a shopkeeper.

That’s about what I thought.

“A lesser person would take umbrage at these grave assaults on my good character,” Sunset muttered.

Sunset, if you’re there, there’s nothing wrong with a businessman being on the Council. At least they know how to run stuff and don’t have to pick it all up as they go like me.

“Tell Ruby that—” Sunset paused. “You know what, can I have the book and pen back for a second?”

Penny obediently passed them over, so that Sunset could write once again.

There is more worth in your good intentions and sincere desire to do good by the people than there is in all of Jacques Schnee’s experience or his business acumen. It does no good for a land if its ruler is experienced if he is also as venal as a dragon. Kind hearts are worth more than the SDC’s billions.

You’re not going to tell him that when you see him, are you?

Ruby, just because I think he’s a jumped up little man who should have known his place in the gutter he crawled out from doesn’t mean that I’m going to say so to his face; credit me with some tact and restraint. I will be as deferential as if he were a man of good breeding and superlative reputation. That is, if I get to see him, General Ironwood has not yet made up his mind as to whether to help us.

That doesn’t sound good.

It’s not bad. He wasn’t going to help us at all, but I managed to talk him into considering the idea, so I’m hopeful that he’ll come to the right decision after a good night’s sleep. And now I’ll pass you back to Penny in case there’s anything more she wants to say.

Penny smiled as she took the book back from Sunset.

I think that General Ironwood will help you too. Sunset made a great speech, about trust and how Salem won’t win because we’re awesome.

Really? I’m sorry I missed that.

“I’m glad it was appreciated, but it was just…” Sunset trailed off. “It was the truth, lightly seasoned with rhetorical flourishes.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Penny asked. “Otherwise, you would have been lying.”

Sunset considered that for a moment. “I … huh. Yes, I suppose you might have a point there, Penny.”

Penny returned her attention to the book. But there isn’t that much else to tell. It kind of feels as though we’ve all been waiting here. Waiting for Salem to make her move, waiting for Sunset, waiting for news. But now, not only is Sunset here, but Rainbow Dash is going to lead a squad to Mistral to help Pyrrha and Jaune! I just wish I could go with them.

'Help Pyrrha and Jaune,' are they okay?

Penny hesitated. She looked at Sunset, her green eyes seeming uncertain. “Are you going to tell her now?”

Sunset ran one hand through her hair. “I suppose I probably should, shouldn’t I?” She didn’t really want to do this, but … it was good news, wasn’t it? Yes, yes of course it was. Yang was alive. Previously, she had been thought dead. That was good news. Life was almost always good news. Yang was alive, and all that mourning had been in vain.

Which was, of course, the part that made it seem like bad news. Because Yang was alive, and yet, someone — Raven — had been happy for Ruby and her father to think that she was dead. To weep, to mourn, to grieve, to fall apart from the strain of losing her. She had been content with that. She had allowed that.

The fact that someone could be so cruel, the fact that Yang was in the clutches of someone who could be so cruel, was what made it seem like bad news, even if it wasn’t.

But good or bad, it was news that Ruby had to know, and she had to hear it from Sunset.

With some reluctance, she levitated the book off Penny’s lap and back onto her own. She stared down at the pages for a moment or two, or three … or four. She stared down at the page but wrote nothing. The facts blocked off her will to set them down.

Her hand trembled with the pen in it.

Hello? Penny? Sunset? Is anyone there?

“Sunset?” Penny murmured.

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. She let the pen drop, then, instead of trembling fingers, she used magic to move it across the page, writing as she would have in Equestria.

Ruby, it’s me again, it’s Sunset. Yes, Pyrrha and Jaune are okay, at least as far as the last word we have of them goes. Lady Nikos came to Atlas before us, to seek General Ironwood’s help in her own right, and she brought news with her. Jaune and Pyrrha are in Mistral, and it turns out, you aren’t the only one stepping up to take on responsibility for the world.

What do you mean?

Pyrrha has raised a company of warriors, the Myrmidons, to defend Mistral from the grimm and from bandits. Salem’s agents are making their move there, so Rainbow and Blake are going to help with a team, and once I find Professor Ozpin, I’ll join everyone there too. We will, I mean: me and Professor Ozpin both.

I wish I could be there.

I wish that too, and so will Pyrrha and Jaune. Once more, she paused. Ruby, there is something that I have to tell you. I’m not sure how to say it; that’s why I’ve kind of put it off, letting you talk to Penny first, getting that out of the way, because this is likely to be the only thing that you can think of. I’m sorry, it’s a terrible thing to spring on you before bed, but I think once you hear it, you’ll understand why I thought you needed to know and not have it kept from you.

You’re being really ominous Sunset; what’s wrong?

Sunset closed her eyes, screwing them up tight. She forced herself to open them again and write. Yang is alive.

There was a moment of no response in the journal.

I know that you would never joke about something like that, but it feels like a really bad joke all the same. How? And how do you know? And where is she? And why did she let me think that she was dead, and if she really is alive, then is she there? Can I speak to her? How is she?

Slow down, Ruby.

You just told me my sister is alive; you catch up! There was a pause. I’m sorry, that was

Merited. Don’t worry about it; I should have known better. I know that Yang is alive because Lady Nikos told me so: she saw her, in Mistral, and Pyrrha and Jaune saw her too.

What’s Yang doing in Mistral? How did she even get to Mistral?

Yang isn’t in Mistral; they saw her there when she came to visit. She is with Raven Branwen and her tribe.

Raven? Raven Branwen? A bandit tribe? How did she The writing stopped, and Sunset could feel Ruby working it out for herself. Raven took her, didn’t she?

In the midst of the battle, yes.

There was no response from Ruby. No response for a moment. No response for moments stretching on. Moments that became minutes. Minutes that multiplied. No response from Ruby, no response from Freeport, no response for this most wonderful and terrible of news.

No response at all.

“She’s not okay, is she?” Penny whispered.

Sunset put one arm around her shoulders, drawing her in. “No, Penny,” she murmured. “No, I don’t suppose she is.”

Still no response.

“What do you think she’s doing right now?” Penny asked.

“I don’t know,” Sunset said, though she tried to imagine. Was Ruby crying? Was she weeping out her frustrations and her sorrows? Was she pacing up and down? Was she screaming out her rage at Raven and her actions? Was she throwing things? Had she just thrown the journal across the room or out the window? Had she left the room to stride about the palace, muttering darkly about the deeds that had been done to her and her father? Had she gone to tell her father? Had she gone to bed, to fling herself down atop the covers and press her head against the pillow but gain no rest, for Raven had murdered sleep?

“I just don’t know,” Sunset repeated.

Almost as soon as she said it, words sprang up on the page. How? How could she do this? How dare she?

I do not know Raven’s mind or heart.

I’m not sure she even has a heart. Is Yang okay?

Aside from the fact that she is with the bandits, I have not heard otherwise.

You said that she was in Mistral, right? You said that Pyrrha and Jaune saw her there, right?

Sunset thought she saw where this might be going. They couldn’t rescue her, Ruby. They tried. Lady Nikos tells me that they offered Yang sanctuary, but she refused it. I think she might be afraid that, with her semblance, Raven could just get in and take her.

Then something will have to be done about Raven, then. Sunset, do you love me?

Sunset felt a chill run down her spine. Her equine ears pricked up. The words looked stark and spiky on the page. Her breathing slowed as a weight like foreboding settled on her chest. You know I do.

Then rescue my sister. If you’ve ever cared about me, if you’ve ever done anything for me, if you’ve ever helped me, then help me in this. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You help people?

That is my destiny.

Then help me. Help Yang. Save her. Make Raven let her go.

Make her how? You want me to go to war for you?

If you love me, you will not deny me this.

No, no I will not, but if you knew the truth, you might deny yourself. Sunset closed her eyes. She had not expected this, but perhaps she should have done. After all, she was Sunset Shimmer. Sunset Shimmer who helped others to shine, Sunset Shimmer who saved lives, Sunset Shimmer who made the impossible possible. Surely, one bandit, or even a whole tribe of them, would be no match for her.

“Sunset?” Penny murmured. “What are you going to do?”

“If this is what she wants, then I will do it,” Sunset replied softly. Ruby was right; she could not deny her this. She had disappointed Ruby too often, let her down too often, failed her too often. She would not refuse her, not now.

“But Raven has the Spring Maiden,” Penny reminded her.

“And I am an alicorn,” Sunset declared. “Perhaps … perhaps there need be no violence. Perhaps I can persuade Raven to let Yang go, as I persuaded General Ironwood. But if not … if not, then I will leave her no choice in the matter.”

Penny frowned. “But Pyrrha’s mother said—”

“I know,” Sunset said. “And Ruby will know too.”

There is a reason why Pyrrha didn’t simply fight Raven to save Yang from her clutches. Raven and the Branwen tribe have made a deal with the Mistrali government; they are under the protection of Mistrali law. An attack upon them would break the peace and could make trouble for Pyrrha and Jaune. The Council fears Pyrrha’s popularity, and I fear that they will take an excuse, however slight, to come down hard upon her.

Are you saying you won’t help me?

I will set fire to Anima if you ask it of me, but I want you — no, I need you to know exactly what you are asking before you ask it. Is this still what you wish?

What I wish is my sister back! Nothing else, just that; isn’t that enough? Don’t I deserve that at least? Why is this so hard?

These choices always are, Sunset thought, but all she wrote to Ruby was I’m sorry.

“You could have just said no,” Penny pointed out, somewhat accusingly.

“She would not have understood why,” Sunset replied. “I am willing to try and help Yang, but she has to know in advance, or it will weigh upon her later when she finds out.” I will not take her choice away again; I cannot.

I don’t know. I need to think about this.

I’ll be here. Take all the time you need.

“What do you think she’ll decide?” Penny asked.

“I would normally say that Ruby will always do the right thing,” Sunset said. “But in this case … I’m not sure what the right thing is. So the truthful answer is … I don’t know.” She gave Penny’s shoulder a squeeze, almost to reassure herself as much as to reassure Penny. “I just don’t know.”

Blood and Water

Blood and Water

It should have been the most wonderful news.

It should have been the best news that she had heard in months, years maybe, better even than when Professor Ozpin told her that she could come to Beacon.

It should have been the best news … ever? In her whole life? That was hard to say, but it should have been wonderful news, all the same. It should have been incredible news, if only because it was erasing the very worst news.

Instead…

Instead…

Yang was alive. Yang was alive, and had been alive, and it was … it was wonderful. Her sister alive, her sister not dead, Yang, somewhere out there, breathing.

Down in the darkness, in Grogar’s tunnels, when she had been all alone and under attack by those monsters, Ruby had thought for a moment that she saw Yang there. She thought that she had seen her sister, wreathed in flames, coming to her aid. She had thought … she had thought that she must have imagined it because Yang was dead. But Yang was not dead. Yang was not dead, and … maybe she had come to Ruby’s aid. Maybe she had saved her little sister, one last time.

Or not. Ruby didn’t know, and she hadn’t asked Sunset because Sunset wouldn’t know that for a fact, one way or another.

That, and she had been too angry to think of it.

Because she was angry. She was angry at this wonderful news; she was angry to learn that Yang was alive. Yang was alive, and Ruby stood in her solar with her whole body trembling and her small, pale hands clenched into fists because this news that should have been so wonderful was terrible.

Yang was alive and in Raven’s care. Raven. Raven.

Ruby had possessed no ill thoughts towards Raven Branwen. Yes, she had left Dad and abandoned Yang, but if she hadn’t done that, then Ruby wouldn’t be here, so self-interest alone kept her from condemning what Raven had done too loudly. And besides, Yang had gotten another mom, a better mom, and a sister too.

In her heart of hearts, in the box of feelings that a good girl shouldn’t admit to and a true huntress should not possess, in the box where she kept her fear that her anger at Sunset had been as much performative as heartfelt, in the box where she kept her guilt at how miserable she had made Sunset in their journey eastward, in the box where every ugly feeling lurked, where every emotion she was not supposed to feel dwelt in darkness, Ruby was much more upset with Summer Rose for leaving her than she was with Raven Branwen for anything that she had done.

Or at least, that had been the case. After all, when she had met Raven before this, she had been … pleasant. Helpful. Wrong, but trying her best. Ruby wouldn’t go so far as to say that she liked her, but she had bore her no malice either.

That had changed now. Now, she bore Raven so much malice as to turn it all to water would flood the lands east of the mountains.

Raven had taken Yang. Raven had taken Yang and left Ruby and her father to think her dead.

Perhaps that was a selfish anger, to hate Raven for what she had done to Ruby and to Dad, to hate her for the grief that they had suffered that they need not have suffered, to hate her for the tears that that they had shed which they need not have shed, to loathe her for the way that Dad had sat at home a shell of a man.

To hate her for the months that she had spent trying to get him to eat, trying to work out how the washing machine worked because Yang or Dad had always taken care of that before, and all the while, trying to hide her own broken heart because she had to be strong now for her father, because a true huntress bore her losses and kept moving forward and a true huntress would never admit that she would trade Sunset’s life for Yang’s in a heartbeat so just shove it all away into the dark and never look at it again and keep moving no matter how much it hurts.

To hate her for the way in which each step had felt like walking on glass.

Maybe it was selfish to hate her for all those things, but then let her be selfish! Let her put herself above all others, let her think first and foremost of her own pain, let her be … let her be what other people were allowed to be as a matter of course.

I’m sorry, Sunset, but I … but I’m not sorry at all. No, I’m not. Not now. Not this time. I’m angry for a lot of selfish reasons, but so what? That doesn’t make them bad reasons; it doesn’t mean that I don’t have a right to be angry, does it? Everyone else is selfish, so why not me? Why shouldn’t I be angry for myself, why shouldn’t I think about how this affected me, why shouldn’t I feel this way?

Why do I have to be good all the time? Sunset stumbles, she falls flat on her face, she messes up, she does terrible things, but nobody blames her for it. Nobody judges her. It’s all ‘poor Sunset, having to feel bad about the things that you did.’ She’s a complete disaster, but she gets rewarded with love and friendship and trust and…

And I love her too. And I am her friend, although I haven’t always been a very good friend, and I trust her, but … but why? Why does she get to act this way, why does she get to make so many mistakes, why does she get to be angry and impulsive and selfish while I have to be the good girl? Why do I have to be pure Ruby, good Ruby, sweet Ruby, a huntress amongst huntresses Ruby? Why do I have to be a shining light to inspire other people? What do I get out of it? Everyone else's pain is healed but mine. I have to carry on, strong Ruby, like nothing has happened.

Do people think that just because I can put other people ahead of myself, it means that I don’t have feelings?

Feelings like sadness, or like anger.

She was angry. She was angry at Raven for what she had done to Ruby, to Dad, and for what she had done and was still doing to Yang. She had kidnapped her! Yang hadn’t wanted to go with her, Yang would never have chosen to go with her like that, not in those circumstances, but Raven had taken her anyway. She had taken Yang, and she wouldn’t let her go.

That was the deepest cut of all. That was the thing that Ruby found most infuriating. If Yang had been found alive, then she would have been overjoyed. If Yang had been in Mistral with Jaune and Pyrrha, if she had been unable to leave because she was needed there to help Jaune and Pyrrha, then … then Ruby would have been a little disappointed, but she would have accepted it. She would have accepted that Yang had her part to play, her path to walk, just as Ruby did here in Freeport. She would have been disappointed that it would have been some time before their paths crossed again, but she would have borne it like a good girl and waited patiently for the day they would be reunited — and in the meantime, she would have hoped that Yang was happy and asked Sunset to look out for her on Ruby’s behalf.

But Yang was not with Jaune and Pyrrha. She couldn’t join them, although they had offered her a place among them, offered to protect her. But she couldn’t join them because Raven wouldn’t let her go, and Raven’s reach was inescapable.

She might as well have stuck Yang in a cage for all the freedom she was giving her.

So why shouldn’t she ask Sunset to set her sister free, why shouldn’t she manipulate her, why shouldn’t she play on Sunset’s affections, why shouldn’t she stamp hard upon the button of Sunset’s lingering guilt, why shouldn’t she do everything and anything she had to do in order to set Yang free and teach Raven that her sister was off-limits if she valued her life?

Yes, it was manipulative, and exploitative, and cruel, and all other things that sweet Ruby, pure Ruby, good as gold Ruby shouldn’t be doing, but so what? So what, as long as it saved her sister; so what, as long as it got Yang back; so what, as long as she got what she wanted for a change? For the love of the gods, Cinder had done such things as the God of Darkness would revolt from, and yet, she got to mouth a few words and then ooze about their camp with all her smirks as if no harm done, so why, oh why, should Ruby have to have standards?

Why shouldn’t she get her way? Why should she be the better person? Why should she give up on her sister? Why shouldn’t she ask Sunset to rain down vengeance upon the Branwen tribe, free Yang, even set Anima alight as Sunset had said she would?

Because Pyrrha and Jaune may suffer if I do.

So what?

So they’re my friends.

My friends? My friends? They left me! I was broken, and they left me to go to Mistral and live in Pyrrha’s big fancy house and be happy together! They left me like Sunset left me, like Mom left!

Why should I have to put them above me? Why shouldn’t I get what I want for once? Why does everyone else get to be a hypocrite but me?

Because I’m Ruby Rose, and all my life, I’ve wanted to help other people.

I’m Ruby Rose, and I’m a hero just like in the books.

I’m Ruby Rose, and that’s a promise.

Ruby threw back her head and let out a scream of frustration, a scream that bounced off the stone walls and made the candles flicker and slipped out under the crack between the door and the floor and out into the corridor beyond.

The book, the magical journal, sat on the table where it had been when Ruby had stopped writing. A part of her wanted to grab it and throw it about, but she did not; she didn’t want to damage her only link to Sunset.

She wanted … she wanted … she didn’t know what she wanted.

No, that was a lie; she knew what she wanted; she just didn’t know if she should do it or not.

Yang was alive. That was the starting point. Yang was alive and in Raven Branwen’s custody. Yang was alive, and Raven had her, and it seemed that she was not willing to give her up. Perhaps Sunset could persuade her to release Yang, but why would Raven release her now when she had not done so before? Because Sunset was the Princess of Hope, and persuading people to do the right thing was her job now? Maybe, but it seemed a slender reed on which to place all Ruby’s hopes.

What would make Raven let Yang go? Force. The threat of force, or the use of force, would be the only language Raven and the Branwen tribe would understand. Sunset could deliver that force; even if Raven had the Spring Maiden, Sunset was still … Sunset was Sunset; with her Equestrian magic, she should surely be a match for some bandit maiden who was probably sloppy and incompetent and only used her powers to threaten innocent people. They were bullies, these bandits, they picked on people who weren’t able to stand up to them, and they ran away when someone did stand up to them. If Sunset stood up to them on Yang’s behalf, they would let her go.

And then it seemed they would go crying to the Mistral Council that big, bad Sunset Shimmer had been mean to them and make her stop.

And the Mistral Council would come down on Pyrrha because Sunset was Pyrrha’s friend and because they hated Pyrrha and were looking for an excuse to come down on her, and that meant that…

Salem’s agents are already in Mistral.

Ruby sat down at the desk, and scrunched her eyes tight shut, and laid her head down on the desk as a groan of agony escaped her.

Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose. Team SAPR. Four students chosen by Professor Ozpin to join his circle, to fight against Salem, to defend the world and foil her plans. If Sunset brought down trouble upon Jaune and Pyrrha, then who would be left? Who would be left to defend Mistral against Salem’s schemes and her sinister followers?

This was not about Jaune and Pyrrha. Sunset might have phrased it as though it were, and Ruby knew that if it were Sunset making this decision, then it really would be all about Pyrrha and Jaune, but for Ruby … if it had come down to it, she would have chosen Yang over them. Not lightly, and not without guilt, and she certainly didn’t mean it in the sense that she didn’t care about them, but … but Yang was her sister, and Ruby wanted her back. She wanted her free. She would not have just left her in Raven’s care to spare Pyrrha and Jaune some trouble.

But this was not about Jaune or Pyrrha. It was about Mistral. It was about the city on the mountain and whether Ruby had the right to deprive it of its best defence just at the moment of greatest peril for her sister’s sake.

Mistral has other defenders besides Pyrrha. I don’t know what Salem’s plans are, or whether Pyrrha and Jaune would be able to stop them. Sunset said that Pyrrha had raised a company of warriors; maybe they can carry on the fight without her. And General Ironwood is sending help as well. Mistral might not fall.

I’m sure that Sunset was able to rationalise her decision as well.

She felt … she felt … she felt as though she were in a dark tunnel, with a choice ahead of her.

It was not as easy a choice as she had imagined when she had leapt to condemn Sunset.

Yang or Mistral? The one she loved or the many who were strangers to her? The one person who had signed up for the risk of death or the city of people who trusted people like Ruby to make the right decisions to protect them?

Her heart’s desire or her self-image?

Sunset’s path or her mother’s footsteps?

Perhaps Sunset would be able to find another way; perhaps she would be able to reject the cruel binary and find a happy path that would bring Yang safely home — or safely out of danger, anyway — and yet avoid the wrath of the Council falling upon Pyrrha’s head.

But if she did not, if she could not, if she had to choose … Ruby could not place all her faith in Sunset’s silver tongue. She had not that much hope, for her Princess of Hope had left her behind.

Yang or Mistral?

Why? Why do I have to choose? Why am I in this position? Haven’t I suffered enough already? Why can’t I do what makes me happy just this once?

If she chose Yang, then all of Mistral might suffer from the removal of its champions, but if she chose Mistral … Yang was her sister. Her sister! Yang had always been there for her, always, ever since she was a kid. She’d dried Ruby’s tears after Mom died, told her stories, read to her before she went to sleep, fed her, dressed her. Yang had always been there, a rock that she could rely on, even when she couldn’t rely on her father.

And if Ruby chose Mistral, then she would be abandoning Yang when Yang needed her for a change. Abandoning her to the mercy of Raven. How could she do that? How could she do that, even for Mistral, even for the whole of Remnant? How could she do that, no matter what Yang had signed up for?

How?

How could she do such a thing? How could she be so cruel, so uncaring? What kind of faithless sister would she be if she were to take that step, however noble her motives might be?

Would Yang ever have abandoned her like that? No. Never.

And yet … and yet, Mistral, and the great struggle?

Why did she have to choose? Why did she have to make this choice? Was this her punishment? Was she being punished because she had been too hard on Sunset, because she had been arrogantly self-assured, believing that the choice should have been an easy one, the answer obvious? Was this the nemesis that followed after such hubris, that she should have to make such a choice herself?

Her sister or her conscience, what an evil choice was this!

Ruby leapt off the chair and began to pace up and down the room.

How? How can I choose? How can I condemn one or the other? How can I make this choice?

In one thing, Sunset and I are different: I’m not there. It isn’t my head on the block. I’m not the one who will die depending on what I decide.

Sunset said that it wasn’t about saving her life, and I believe her, but all the same … it’s different if you’re there. If Sunset had made … if Sunset had chosen not to detonate the mine, then she would have died alongside us. Her regret would only have lasted a few moments.

My regrets will last a lifetime.

I suppose it’s too much to hope that Cinder will just do the thing that I really want without me having to sacrifice for it, the way that she would have blown the mine if Sunset had refrained.

No, that’s not likely, not anymore. She won’t do anything except what Sunset asks of her.

And Sunset won’t ask anything except what I ask of her in this.

If I tell her to leave Yang, worry about Professor Ozpin, worry about Mistral, then she will do that. If I tell her to rescue Yang, then she will do that. This is my choice, and mine alone.

But what a choice.

There was a knock at the door. “Your Majesty?” Laurel called from the other side of the door. “Is anything amiss?”

“No, I’m fine,” Ruby growled. “Go away.”

Laurel did not go away. She opened the door and looked inside. “You were heard screaming from out in the corridor.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” Ruby snapped. Except that she wasn’t. And she could use someone to talk to about this, even if that someone was one of the Sun Queen’s counsellors.

She couldn’t talk to Dad about this. He would … he’d be in just the same position she was in.

But she needed to talk to someone.

“Come in,” she said, her voice softening. “And I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Laurel smiled. “That’s quite alright, Your Majesty. The crown can be a heavy burden, and heavy burdens can make one cranky.”

Ruby did not smile. Rather, as Laurel stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and sat down upon a stool hard by the door, Ruby studied her. She was tall, about as tall as Pyrrha — maybe taller with her shoes off; Ruby thought her heels might be a little smaller — but she did not have Pyrrha’s beauty. Laurel’s complexion was pasty, pale without being fair, and her blue eyes were watery and pale. Her hair was iron grey, as though she had grown old before her time, and worn in a severe bun at the nape of her neck that made her look like a librarian. She was dressed in black, in an old-fashioned black gown with a train that dragged behind her when she walked. She was dressed that way in mourning for her queen. Perhaps that ought to have made her suspect in Ruby’s eyes, but she needed people around her who understood how Freeport worked; Ember and Prince Rutherford could teach her about the clans, but Ruby needed Laurel and Cherry to understand the city that was at the heart of her kingdom.

And she did not want to be the sort of queen who began her reign by banishing everyone connected with the old regime.

Not when she needed all the help she could get.

Laurel pushed the pince-nez up her nose, then folded her hands together on her lap. “Now, what can I do for Your Majesty?”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Ruby said. “Not in private.”

“What else should I call you?” Laurel asked. “Not Miss Rose, that would be most improper.”

“You could call me Ruby?” Ruby suggested.

Laurel glanced away. “I … apart from anything, it would feel strange to be less formal with you than I was with my own friend. Would you mind if we maintained the formalities, for now?”

“If you prefer, sure,” Ruby murmured. She approached the chair but did not sit on it, instead leaning upon the wooden back with both hands. “Can I ask you something?”

“I am at Her Majesty’s service,” Laurel said. “Is this about the village dispute?”

“No, this is … this is something else,” Ruby replied. “This is … if you had to choose between the greater good of the many or one person you loved, what would you choose?”

Laurel pushed her pince-nez back up her nose again. “Are you asking me what I would do or what a queen should do?”

“Would the answers be any different?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, I think they would,” Laurel said. “I, after all, chose love. I followed Sunset — my Sunset, Queen Sunset — here from Atlas in what could only be described as a quixotic venture. The Girl Who Would Be Queen.” She chuckled. “But I would have followed her anywhere she asked. Absolutely anywhere, and done anything too.”

“Because you loved her,” Ruby murmured.

“Your Majesty, I could use many words to describe your appearance,” Laurel said. “Words which, though flattering, would also be to demeaning to your royal dignity for me to give them voice; nevertheless, I am sure you have heard them and will know what I mean.” She paused. “It may surprise you, the recipient of so many compliments I’m sure, to learn that the world can be a very harsh place for an ugly duckling like myself. But Sunset never cared about that. She valued me, in spite of this wretched complexion and this appalling hair. She saw that there was something I could bring regardless. That being so, how could I not repay her kindness with my loyalty?” Again, she fell silent for a moment, before she said, “But I am not the queen of Freeport and Estmorland.”

“No,” Ruby murmured. “No, that’s me.”

“And a queen, a true queen, a good queen, a perfect queen, must always put the greater good of her subjects first,” Laurel declared. “Sunset, the Sun Queen, always did that. From the moment that we arrived, from the moment that the clans and settlements acclaimed her, the Sun Queen always dedicated herself wholly and solely to the wellbeing of the kingdom and of her people. I don’t expect you to like it, but even her decision to hand you and your friends over to your enemies … even that decision was made with the best interests of the kingdom in mind.”

“Really?” Ruby muttered.

“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Laurel said, unabashed. “But consider the grimm attack that fell on Freeport after … well, you know. Yes, you saved the city and reaped the rewards for your extraordinary actions, Your Majesty, but there would have been no attack, and many who are dead would have lived if you had simply been delivered to your foes. It was not the honourable choice, I admit, it was not even a kind choice, but it was the right choice for the whole kingdom.”

“Even though it cost Sunsprite her life?” Ruby demanded.

“One life,” Laurel said. “Against an entire kingdom.”

Ruby took a moment before she asked, “Did she find it easy?”

“No,” Laurel said at once. “Not at all. She thought long and hard, she deliberated, she consulted, she did not want to take that step. But in her heart, she knew what she had to do. She was the perfect queen: utterly selfless.”

“I see,” Ruby muttered. “Thank you, Laurel.”

It was a dismissal, and Laurel understood it as such. She rose from her seat. “Very well, Your Majesty, I wish you a good night. Will you retire to bed soon?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied. “Not yet.”

“I see,” Laurel murmured. “Well, goodnight regardless, Your Majesty.”

“Goodnight,” Ruby said softly, looking away from her and down at the closed book, her link to Sunset waiting on the other side.

Laurel opened the door. “If I may say, Your Majesty, I believe that you, too, have the makings of the perfect queen this realm required, just as Sunset did.”

Ruby glanced at her. “You think so?”

Laurel nodded. “I see so much of her in you, Your Majesty: courage, kindness … a willingness to make the hard decisions, without flinching from them.”

Ruby felt a little sick to hear it. Because that’s the comparison I wanted. “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Even though Laurel meant it as praise, it was difficult to feel flattered.

Laurel nodded. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, then closed the door behind her.

Ruby frowned. A perfect queen. A perfect queen like the Sun Queen. A perfect queen like the one who had me locked up and would have thrown me to Tyrian and had my cousin killed. A perfect queen like the one who stole Sunset’s body and took away our memories of her.

Thanks, Laurel, I really wanted to hear that.

That was … unfair, perhaps. Laurel hadn’t meant any harm by her words; she had been devoted to her queen and friend, and if that had caused her to imagine a person who did not quite match the reality … Ruby could hardly begrudge her that.

And besides, she had a point: handing everyone over to Tyrian would have spared the town an assault by the grimm and saved the lives of its defenders. That was why Ruby had refused to defend herself in the arena.

Because sometimes sacrifices had to be made, even if that meant sacrificing yourself.

Or your sister?

Ruby scowled. No. No, it was not so … she could not … it was not the same thing! It was one thing to give your life, that she could without hesitation, but this? To abandon Yang? If that was the action of a perfect queen, then did it follow that that was the queen she had to be? Had she not spent long enough being perfect? Was she not allowed to be a flawed queen, a human queen, a queen of hearts as well as roses?

No. No, she was not. Because this burden had not been appointed to her; she had chosen it, with her eyes open. And that meant … and that meant that she didn’t have the luxury of human weakness.

But who would know? This was no business of Freeport; she had spoken to Laurel only in hypotheticals, and in the vaguest terms at that. Laurel said that, as a queen, she should put her subjects first, saying nothing of other people in other kingdoms, and no one in Freeport would be affected by her choice. If Ruby told Sunset to leave Yang be, or if she told Sunset to wage war until Yang was freed like the old heroes in Pyrrha’s Mistralian myths fighting to free the princess from her captors, either way, life in Freeport would go on, ignorant and uncaring of Yang Xiao Long, whatever state she was in.

No one would know.

No one would know, save her, who was not only queen but huntress too, and was not pledged to Freeport alone but to all mankind.

Which pledge would come before the other, if it came to it? The queen or the huntress, Freeport or the world, my subjects or humanity?

Let it not come to that. This choice I face at present is agony enough.

Ruby turned away from the chair and desk and book and wandered to the window. The moonlight fell in through the casement, and it bathed her as she stepped into its silvery beams, the light turning her skin even paler than it normally appeared and making her eyes shine like little moons in miniature.

Could she abandon morality and reason her way into an outcome that would please her?

Reason? No. She could rationalise her way into doing what she wanted, but that way lay Sunset’s path.

No, she could not judge this coldly. Others, she knew, thought her cold, even heartless; Cinder thought she had no compassion in her, even Sunset found her chilly at times, but it was not so. Ruby did not consider it so. She had a heart; it simply did not beat the same as theirs, was moved by things that moved not them, was not moved by those things that excited them. If Sunset loved not wisely but too well, then Ruby loved in moderation, but spread her love more widely for it.

A hero saves not only those they love but those they do not care for, even those they hate.

She did not hate the people of Mistral. She would not even say she did not care for them, save that she did not know them.

And yet, Yang … Yang pulled upon her heart with mighty chains of iron that threatened to drag her from her tower and over the ocean to the Branwen camp.

To abandon Yang would be … evil. Ruby knew no other way to say it. To leave her sister in the clutches of her kidnapper, to cast her to the Raven to devour, to leave her, knowingly, in such a place … her own sister. Her sister who had taken care of her, how would Ruby leaving her when Yang needed a saviour, how would that be anything else but evil?

How could that be right, for all the talk of the needs of the many and the duties of a huntress and the risks which Yang might or might not have accepted, no, you could not justify this, not even the perfect queen could justify this!

And yet, how much better could it be to deprive Mistral of its greatest defender on the eve of battle, with Salem’s agents already in the city?

Yang or Mistral. Ruby felt as though she was sailing between a monster and a whirlpool.

She felt as though she were trapped in this room, with the air growing ever stuffier and more stultified; she felt as though she were suffocating under the weight of her decision; she had to get out!

Ruby grabbed Crescent Rose, flung open the door, and began to race down the corridors of her fortress palace. She ran, trailing rose petals, and as she ran faster and faster, as she dodged the patrolling guards and attendants servants, as she ignored all cries and calls and did not stop, she ceased to run and instead became a shower of rose petals, a moving mass without a single fixed point, a sensation without a body, a thought without a vessel to hold that thought.

She was aware of where she was, but she did not feel it. She knew that she was flying out of the Tower of the Sun and through the streets of Freeport, but she did not feel the chill of the night air around her, she did not feel the smoke from the cooking fires or the grills of the street vendors, she did not feel anything.

And for a brief moment, that relief was glorious.

Ruby flew through the streets and over the wall and the closed gates, and she flew out beyond Freeport, passing the outer defences where the sentries kept watch and disappearing into the darkness.

Only there, beyond the town, where there was no one to see her, no one to speak to her, no one to get in her way, only there did Ruby reform herself. Only there, standing in the grass, with the moon shining down upon her, did Ruby wait.

It did not take them long to come to her.

The grimm, beowolves all, their long-limbed, lithe bodies began as deeper patches of shadow in the darkness, then gradually seemed to form out of that same darkness, their spikes of bone, their masks, their gleaming red eyes like embers amongst cold coals, all coming slowly into view as they came closer.

And as they came closer, they began to growl, the sounds of their snarling and their growling growing louder and louder.

They were all around her.

The breeze of night ruffled Ruby’s tattered cloak. The moonlight glinted off her armour. And as Crescent Rose extended in her hands, unfolding with a series of clicks and clanks and hisses, Ruby smiled.

The first beowolf lunged for her. Ruby leapt and, for a moment, hung suspended in the night sky, silhouetted against the moon.

And then she blew its head off.

This, this she knew how to do.

She shot, she sliced, she zipped from place to place so fast that they could never catch her, she made the night resound to the bangs of her sniper rifle, she tore through their black masses, she sliced through their bone armour, she ended them one by one, in twos and threes and fours besides, she slaughtered them all, every last one of them. She didn’t have to think about it. She didn’t have to weigh the options in her mind, she didn’t have to think about what was best and who she owed for what and where the right choice lay. She could just fight, and kill, and vanquish evil as she had trained to do, as she had always wanted to do.

As she fired and spun and cut them to ribbons, she could put aside the queen and be the huntress once again.

And she could kill. She could vent her anger. She could do to all these beowolves what she wanted to do to Raven; in her mind, the bone masks that the monsters wore transformed to the helm that Raven wore upon her head, their black bodies became as red as crimson, their spurs of bone became lamellar armour, and as she fought, she struck down Raven Branwen over and over again.

But it was over all too soon. The last of the beowolves turned to ash, the growling ceased, and there was no sound left all but Ruby’s breathing.

And the sound of someone clapping behind her.

Ruby turned around to see Neopolitan standing behind her, applauding in a genteel fashion, her wrists together, her palms and fingers moving. She was watching Ruby with one raised eyebrow above her pink eye.

She signed, Did that make you feel better?

Crescent Rose compacted in Ruby’s hand, folding up into a more portal size and shape; she put it on her back and signed, Not really.

I’m shocked, signed Neo.

How did you get out here? Ruby asked. How did you manage to find me, or catch up with me?

I have my ways, replied Neo, with a slight smirk on her face. The real question is, what are you doing out here. None of us should wander alone, and the Queen of Roses least of all.

“I can take care of myself!” Ruby replied indignantly. Then she remembered to sign it. I can take care of myself.

Sure you can, Neo signed. But what are you doing out here? Did you have a sudden urge to hunt some beowolves?

Ruby hesitated for a moment. I found out that my sister’s alive.

Neo’s eyebrow rose even higher. I can see why that would upset you.

“Ha ha ha,” Ruby said, because sign language wasn’t so good for conveying tone. I don’t know what to do, she admitted.

Neo frowned. How do you mean?

Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. Yang … she’s been kidnapped. She was always kidnapped; she was never dead. Her … someone has taken her and is holding her against her will.

Someone tough, I presume? Neo asked. Someone your sister can’t just get away from.

Right, Ruby replied. Some friends of mine offered to let her stay with them, to shelter and protect her, but she refused. She said that they wouldn’t be able to help her, that the person who took her would always be able to get her again.

That tough, huh?

It’s her semblance, Ruby explained. She can open portals, and I suppose she could use them to snatch Yang from wherever she was.

Neo nodded thoughtfully. Well, it might not fit with your morals, but there is an answer to that. She drew one finger across her throat, and stuck out her tongue.

Ruby scowled. It has occurred to me, she signed.

Neo cocked her head to one side. Really? I didn’t think you had it in you?

“You thought that I—” Ruby stopped. You thought that I’d just … what? That I wouldn’t be able to do whatever it took to help my sister?

If you were willing to do whatever it took, you wouldn’t be out here taking your anger out on the beowolves, Neo pointed out.

Ruby pouted, but could hardly dispute her point. It’s complicated.

How? Neo asked. How do you know about your sister, anyway?

Sunset told me.

And how does she know? Neo asked.

From friends in Mistral; this is where it gets complicated, Ruby said.

Doesn’t seem that complicated to me, Neo said. Even if you can’t go get your sister personally, why don’t you just ask Sunset to go and get her for you? You know she’ll do it, right? She’ll do anything you ask her to.

I know, Ruby signed, half feeling as though the very fact that Sunset would do anything she asked her to was a good reason to be responsible about the things that she asked Sunset for. But the person who took Yang is … they have friends in Mistral.

Friends in high places, you mean? Neo asked.

Ruby nodded. That’s right.

That’s unfortunate, Neo said. I’ve never been to Mistral, but Roman’s told me stories. The way he tells it, if you have the right friends, you can pretty much do whatever you want.

And it gets even worse, Ruby said. Because their friends hate my friends, Jaune and Pyrrha, and if I ask Sunset to do something to help Yang, then I’m afraid that Pyrrha and Jaune will get blamed for it, and Mistral needs them. It needs them badly, from what I’ve been told, because trouble is headed their way. So that’s why I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to choose. I don’t know how I can just abandon my sister, but I don’t know how I can put a whole city in peril either.

Neo was silent for a moment. You want to know what I think?

I think I can probably guess, Ruby signed back.

Oh, really?

You’re going to tell me to screw everyone else and get my sister back, right? Ruby demanded.

What do you take me for, a brute? Neo asked, her eyes widening in feigned shock. A grin flitted across her face for a moment. She paused, half turning away from Ruby and looking up at the shattered moon that hovered above them. The breeze ruffled her pink and brown hair, even as she ran one hand through the brown side of it.

She returned her attention to Ruby, and began to sign again, You know, before I met Roman and embarked upon a life of crime, I was a graduate of Lady Browning’s Preparatory Academy for Girls.

Ruby’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

Neo’s smirk returned as she mimed holding a cup and saucer. Oh, yes, indeed. I was a lady, I was. You don’t think I learned how to fight with a parasol at the School of Hard Knocks, do you?

I hadn’t really given it much thought, Ruby confessed.

Well, it wasn’t just etiquette lessons, Neo explained. Yes, I know which knife and fork to use, which wine to order with which meal, how to smile prettily and play the piano. I know everything I need to know in order to land a rich husband. She grinned. And I know how to kick his ass the moment he oversteps his bounds.

I think a lot of guys appreciate that these days, Ruby said.

I was also trained in spycraft and assassination, Neo added, in what probably would have been a very matter-of-fact way if she had been speaking, not signing.

Ruby’s jaw dropped. Spycraft and assassination?

Uh-huh.

Because that’s something every modern girl needs to know? Ruby asked.

They do if your school is being bankrolled by organised crime, Neo replied.

Come again?

It’s a long story; I’ll tell you later, Neo signed. The point is, Lady Beat — that was the headmistress – taught me one lesson even more important than how to fence, steal secrets, manipulate, or murder people.

Really? Ruby asked. And what’s that?

Girls are expected to obey the rules, Neo signed. But we only get punished when we break them.

Ruby’s brow furrowed. Everyone is expected to obey the rules, and everyone gets punished when they break them.

Then why can’t you get your sister back, you poor, naïve child?

That’s a good point, Ruby acknowledged. But I still don’t see—

The point is that you don’t have to follow the rules, Neo said. You just have to know how far they’ll bend before they snap. That’s what you should tell Sunset to do: push the rules as far as they will go without breaking them. That way, you get your sister back, and you don’t get your other friends into trouble.

You make it sound so simple, Ruby signed back.

It would be very tempting to accept that fact, just as it would have been very tempting to believe Sunset when she said that she was going to ensure that she could always win without having to make hard choices any more. It was very tempting to believe that that was possible, that you could move through the world avoiding all tough decisions, taking convenient alternative approaches to solve all your problems and get you everything you wanted.

It would be wonderful to believe that, but Ruby wasn’t sure she could.

I’m not sure it can be that easy.

Neo shrugged. You can believe it or not; it doesn’t make that much difference to me. I’ve said — signed — my piece. Now are you going to come back to Freeport with me?

Ruby nodded. Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming. After all, the perfect queen probably didn’t run away from her city in the middle of the night.

As she and Neo walked back to Freeport, Ruby feeling the distance that she had travelled, she felt herself turning Neo’s words over and over again in her mind.

She didn’t understand what it was about girls, specifically, that meant they were expected to obey the rules but only punished for breaking them, but the rest?

It seemed as though she had only two choices, Yang and Mistral, but then, it had seemed as though Professor Ozpin only had one choice, to put Pyrrha — or someone else — into that machine and turn her into the Fall Maiden, but Sunset had found another way, to save Amber and spare Pyrrha the ordeal. Okay, that hadn’t worked out great in the end, but it was something no one else had thought of until she came up with it.

Ruby could only see two choices ahead of her. But maybe, just maybe, Sunset could see more, and she wouldn’t have to choose at all.

Prologue: S A P R (Rewritten)

Prologue: S A P R

Creation. Destruction. Knowledge. The aspects of magic left to us by the gods, our gift from those who have condemned us both to torment. Each is, in its own way, formidable; each is, in its own way, necessary. There is always a certain beauty in the act of creation, provided that the creation itself serve some worthy purpose, just as there is equal beauty to be found in the destruction of the unworthy. The latter, I confess, is more pleasurable to observe, at least when the creations being destroyed belong to you. And as for Knowledge, well…without knowledge, what great enterprise can ever hope to succeed? Why do you think your pawns and puppets, blindfolded by your lies and half-truths, fumbling in a morass of ignorance, fail so often as they do?

But of course, before you feel the need to remind me, there is another kind of magic. These things always come in fours, after all. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall; Creation, Knowledge, Destruction…and the greatest of these is Choice. Because we all, even those who never knew the touch of godhead, never received their poisoned gifts, though they have no other magic they all possess the power of Choice. It was the choice of the God of Light to deny me my petition for your life; it was the choice of both the brothers to lay our race and all our mighty kingdoms to waste and ruin; it was their choice to condemn us both – and the four kings likewise – to this wretched, endless, stale existence. It was your choice to raise your hand against me and murder our sweet daughters. And it is my choice to strive with might and main against you and all your works forever while the world shall turn, for I choose not to cease my raging until I have given back to you your fill and more of bloodshed.

But all men, though they be so much less than I, and less even than you, possess the power of choice. These are not gods, but when the gods themselves created us they did so in the name of choice. It was their intent, and in their absence that intent has thrived amongst the successors to our kind, that mankind should be free to choose. Of the four relics which the gods left behind them one even embodies that power of choice which all men possess.

How ironic, then, that they seem so eager to reject the power of choice that is their birthright. They cling to the so-called wisdom of ancient wizards, they look to virtuous maidens to lead and inspire them, they raise up kings and generals and enter into voluntary servitude beneath their banners. Do they do this because they are afraid? Do they wish to avoid taking the blame for the consequences of their own poor decisions? Do they simply want the heavy burden to pass from their shoulders and onto another? Are they, perhaps, so blinded by power that they feel they have no…no choice but to abase themselves before it.

In truth, what I find even stranger is that they do not only give away their choices but seek to deny that they ever had choices to begin with. Consider destiny, this grand notion that they have created: a force of great power overseeing the world, spinning out the threads of fate, determining the inexorable futures of kings and empires. Well, I do my best, but I'm afraid they give me too much credit. Although I make my plans and send my agents, I am not responsible for the majority of the failures that they experience. Frankly, they cause their own travails well enough on their own through their folly, their hubris, and, yes, their belief that all was pre-ordained. There are no lessons to be learned from their mistakes for they were inevitable from the moment of creation. How much more they could be if they were willing to take off the blindfold and see the truth but no, they cling to the lie that is destiny like an old friend or a child's comfort blanket. Some people run and run, chasing a destiny that is always just out of reach, turning their backs on everything they have and all who love them in pursuit of…what? A restless emptiness, a feeling they can't explain, a refusal to admit that, in the end, life cannot measure up to their expectations.

This is not my choice, Sunset.

Not your choice? You're Princess Celestia! All Equestria lies beneath your hoof! Nothing happens here that is not by your choice!

I hope you do not truly believe that, Sunset, for if you do it merely shows that you never understood what it means to be a princess. And I fear you never will.

Sunset Shimmer stood in the courtyard of Canterlot Combat School, just outside the main building. She stood in the courtyard, all alone, the mottled light of the shattered moon shining down upon her, looking at a mirror set into the base of the Wondercolt Statue.

No one knew that it was a mirror but her. Everyone else just looked at it and – when they bothered to look at the base at all, and not the noble stallion on top of it – they saw only a marble plinth, perhaps with some particularly reflective surfaces.

Sunset saw a way home. A way that, although dormant, might one day open up and carry her back to Equestria.

Back to a home that she had left behind.

A home that had nothing to offer her any more.

It was your choice to make me love you, but it was my choice to believe that you loved me in return.

A home that called to her nonetheless.

The night was cold; although Canterlot lay in the surprisingly temperate and fertile west of Atlas, it was still a part of the north kingdom, and that meant it grew chilly of the nights. Sunset shivered as the breeze bit through her leather jacket. She flinched as it nipped at her face. She could go back. Not right now, but when the portal opened again she could go back. She could wait, and watch, and when the time was right she could step right through and she would be in Equestria again.

Equestria, where nopony would break up with her because of the race she had been born, and nopony would encourage her boyfriend to dump her for that reason. Equestria, where no one would be blinded to her greatness by the fact that she was 'only a faunus'. Equestria, where it was not an insult to be called a pony but a name that she could wear with, if not pride, then equanimity.

Equestria, where she would be equal…and, in being equal, then be nothing.

Sunset scowled. As if she was more than nothing in this place. It was no great life being a faunus in the Kingdom of Atlas. In fact it was a pretty terrible life all things considered. She had more detentions and demerits than any other student in the school; kids who ought to have been old enough to know better pulled her tail on the street; people felt free to tell her to her face that she belonged in a zoo or worse. Sunset had come through the mirror chasing dreams of glory, but what she'd found was a world where she had to walk small and keep her head down if she wanted to stay alive.

I have a great destiny, and if you deny me what is rightfully mine then I'll just take it for myself!

Sunset cringed at the memory of her youthful arrogance. She hated it here. She hated this place, she hated these people, she hated that she had come through the mirror looking like this. She hated her stupid tail and her stupid pony ears; why couldn't she have come through the mirror looking human? If she had, then she had no doubt that with her self-evident qualities of intellect and leadership she'd have been on top by now.

She hated the other faunus who just seemed to accept this as their lot in life. Even worse, she hated the ones who didn't seem to let it hold them back at all; the ones who seemed to see themselves as human; the ones who everybody else seemed to see as human.

Sunset reached out, and brushed her fingertips against the cold, smooth base of the statue. She could go home, if she wanted to. She could wait for the mirror to open up again and go back to Equestria, where no one suffered discrimination for the circumstances of their birth.

She could go back, and crawl to the base of Celestia's throne and confess that she had failed – in her destiny and at everything else – and could she please have a room and a place at school to finish her education?

No.

No, she would not do that. Even the thought of doing that made her shudder. She would not humiliate herself in that fashion. Her pride would not allow it. Her back would not bend so far, nor would her knees descend so low as to permit it.

The humans of this world might mock her, insult her, arrest her, threaten her, degrade her on a daily basis but in so doing they only revealed their own smallness of character. They could do all those things and worse, but they could not take away her knowledge of her own worth, they could not strip her of her self-respect nor her awareness of who she was and what she deserved. She had a destiny, a great and tremendous destiny; that knowledge had sustained her through her years at Canterlot and it sustained her now against the temptation to admit defeat and leave it all behind.

She had a destiny, and though it was nowhere to be found in Atlas yet it still existed in this world of Remnant. She just had to hold her nerve and remember that she was Sunset Shimmer, born and raised and groomed for greatness. Vale would be different. Beacon would be different. There, she would find what she was looking for.

"I will not go back," she whispered to the mirror, and to the Wondercolt statue and the shattered moon above. "I won't fail. My destiny is here. And I'm going to grab it with both hands."

Then you'll see how wrong you were.

I wish that that was not the answer that you gave me, and yet as you are Sunset Shimmer I suppose it was the only answer you could give.

Sunset picked up Sol Invictus from where she'd rested it against the statue base, and slung it over her shoulder. Across the other shoulder she slung her backpack.

"Saying one last goodbye?"

Sunset froze for a moment, before a glance over her shoulder confirmed that it was only Principal Celestia, the headmistress of Canterlot Combat School and an uncanny doppelganger – once one got past the surface differences – to Sunset's princess and old teacher. It had confused her immensely, at first, when she had come through the mirror to escape Princess Celestia and found a Principal Celestia waiting for her. It had been enough to make her wonder if, instead of crossing into another world, she had entered into some kind of dreamland populated by fragments of memory. She no longer believed that to be the case – this world was too vast and too detailed to be a hallucination of Sunset Shimmer – yet still the presence of this other Celestia baffled her. It confounded all her efforts to explain it.

Not that it mattered much any more. She was leaving Canterlot behind; she doubted that she would ever see the Principal again.

Nor did she wish to.

"In a manner of speaking," Sunset replied.

Principal Celestia nodded. "I think you will do very well at Beacon Academy," she said. "Professor Ozpin…has a habit of bringing the very best out of his students."

"I'm sure that I'll do well there, too," Sunset declared. Though out of my own merits, and through no nurturing skill of Professor Ozpin's.

Principal Celestia said, "I'm glad that we agree. For whatever it may be worth, I think you made the right decision, choosing Beacon. I fear you would have been a poor fit at Atlas Academy."

"I agree," Sunset replied. "That's why I chose Beacon."

Principal Celestia was silent for a moment. "I know that you have not always been happy here, Sunset," she said, after a brief pause. "And I am sorry for that. I hope that – at Beacon, or wherever your road takes you – you can find your place to belong in the world. A place where you can be happy." She paused again. "Goodbye, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset nodded, curtly and a little coldly. "Goodbye, Principal Celestia." She looked away, and only the sound of Principal Celestia's footsteps on the courtyard told her that the principal was leaving.

I will find my place in the world, Sunset thought, staring at the statue and the mirror. Just as I will find my destiny.

With one last lingering look, at the door to home that she would be leaving behind a continent away from where she was going, Sunset turned away and began to walk towards the docks.

Destiny is a crutch, you see. A crutch that, since it cannot be seen, allows them to pretend if only for a moment that their feeble legs can sustain their weight. Even when it ought to be obvious that that is not so, they refuse to face the reality of their situation. They refuse to choose more wisely, or to take any kind of responsibility for their predicament. Instead, they put their faith in destiny and dreams. Arrogance. There is nothing extraordinary about any of their lives or their existences. There is no special providence guiding any of them on an elevated path towards power or wealth or glory. None is marked out to be set higher than the others. To be a man in these times, is to be nothing more than a grain of sand amongst multitudes.

Jaune Arc crept through his house with only a torch to light his way, passing down the upstairs corridor like a burglar in his own home.

It might not stay his home for much longer, not once Dad found the note and realised that Crocea Mors was missing from its place on the mantelpiece.

He told himself that it wasn't really stealing. It was a family blade, it didn't belong to any specific member of the family but to all of them, and he was as much a member of the family as anyone else so he had a right to take the sword.

Yeah, that didn't sound terribly convincing, even to him. But he needed a weapon and it wasn't as though anyone else was using it, right? The sword had just been gathering dust since his great-great-grandfather's time.

Jaune stopped as one of the floorboards creaked beneath his feet. He froze. He was right outside of Kendal's room, and she was a really light sleeper. If she woke up, and caught him like this about to sneak out then…

Why couldn't she have been away when I did this?

He waited, as still as could be, as still as the statue of his great-great-grandfather in the middle of town. Neither Kendal, nor River whose room lay on the other side of the corridor, stirred from sleep.

Jaune tried to stifle the sigh of relief that sought to escape his mouth, and kept on walking.

Aoko's bedroom door was open, and his sister was still awake. Fortunately she had her back to the open doorway and to him; she was engrossed in the screen of her computer, where words appeared on the off-white screen. Her pale blonde hair was long and untidy, hanging down behind her almost to her waist. She never seemed to remember to have it cut.

Jaune tried to move as quietly as he could, but without turning around Aoko said, "Hey, Jaune; what are you doing up?"

Jaune halted. He kept his voice down to a very low whisper. "How did you-"

"I can see your reflection in my screen," Aoko said, also speaking very softly. Jaune had to strain his ears to hear her.

"Oh, right," Jaune murmured. "I…I'm just getting a snack out of the refrigerator."

"Cool. Can you bring me up a bag of cheese puffs?"

Jaune couldn't help but smile. "Sure," he said. It was a lie – he wasn't going to risk coming back up the stairs – but compared to what else he was going to be doing tonight a lie about getting his sister a snack hardly registered. Besides, Aoko would probably forget she'd asked in about five minutes. "What are you doing up?"

"I'm chatting to this girl in Atlas," Aoko said. "Well, I think she's in a place called Canterlot right now, but that's a part of Atlas. I think. Anyway, she has some interesting ideas about robotics."

"Ah," Jaune replied, without any comprehension, as Aoko began to type. "Hey, Aoko…I love you."

"Mm-hmm," Aoko murmured, as she kept on typing.

Jaune shook his head and left her to it. He crept downstairs, thanking God that there were no more creaking floorboards that threatened to give him away, and he was able to make his way into the living room, where Crocea Mors waited right where it always was: on the mantle above the fireplace, sheathed and sitting upon an ornate cast iron stand.

His hand trembled just a little at the idea of – he could lie to everyone else, but it was harder to lie to himself – stealing it, but he didn't have a choice. He couldn't train to be a Huntsman at Beacon without some kind of weapon, and he didn't have the money to buy one or the skill to make one so Crocea Mors it was. Sure, it was kind of old and a little out of date but a sword was a sword, right? It wasn't as if it wouldn't work any more.

He had to do this. He'd come too far to turn back now. He'd forged the transcripts and the exam results, he'd hidden his acceptance letter from Professor Ozpin, he'd kept his plans a secret from a smothering mom and five nosy sisters. He wouldn't get another shot at this. If he didn't go now he'd never go.

And he needed to go. If he didn't get out of here then he was going to…this was his only dream, since he'd been six years old and had torn through every issue of My Huntsman Academia that he could get his hands on. To be the hero just like in the stories, to be the knight who saved everyone, that was what he'd always wanted to be. Just like Dad, just like Grandpa, just like all the Arc men as far back as his great-great-grandfather. They had all been heroes, and it was time for him to take his place amongst them. It didn't matter that his mom didn't want her baby boy to risk his life in some field somewhere; it didn't matter that Dad and Kendal thought he was too soft to make it through a huntsman academy, let alone as a pro huntsman. It didn't even matter that Sky and Rouge thought that huntsmen were ridiculous, and that they weren't needed here in this peaceful town. He knew what he wanted.

This was his life, it didn't belong to his mom or his dad; it didn't belong to Sky or Rouge or Kendal or Violet.

This was his life, and this was what he'd always wanted to be. He could do this, no matter what they thought.

After all, the heroes in the comics made it look easy.

Gently, quietly, Jaune lifted Crocea Mors off the mantelpiece and strapped it to his belt. He might be stealing it but at least he was going to put it to good use.

He could do this. He would do this. This was his dream; this was what he'd always wanted to be.

This was his destiny.

As he stole out of the house, Jaune vowed to himself that he was going to make his dreams come true and become one of the most famous huntsmen to ever live.

He had left a note explaining everything to his folks. He wasn't sure what would be worse: that they came to drag him back home…or that they didn't, because they just didn't care enough to bother.

Some of them run from their so-called destiny, telling themselves how much they hate it, how much they want to escape from it and its baleful influence upon their lives, not realising that their very belief in destiny holds them captive. For of course, they cannot escape something that does not exist, and so long as they can blame a conveniently external force for all their troubles and misfortunes they will never have to confront the fact that they have nothing to blame but their own weakness.

Pyrrha Nikos wandered towards her room; her footsteps were slow, as if her steps were weighted down with stones bound around her ankles. Her head was bowed, and she looked down at nothing but the varnished floor beneath her and her slowly-moving feet. She ignored – she did not even look at – the death masks of her ancestors that hung on the wall, the antique vases on their marble plinths, the antique tapestries hanging between the doors.

From below, the sounds of the guests in the Dining Hall echoed up to her. Pyrrha ignored them. She had no desire to go back down there. She had come up here to get away from them.

All those people gathered down below: lords and ladies of Mistralian families old and proud, prosperous merchants and attorneys on the rise, the Lord Steward and his daughters, the Councillors of Mistral. All of those people, gathered below to celebrate an idea with neither knowledge of nor desire to know the person upon whom that idea sat like all-concealing armour. Or, worse, they were pretending to celebrate both it and her whilst all the while holding her in contempt.

It was best to come away. Loneliness was preferable to the way that she felt down there, the object of every eye and tongue but the subject of no one's attentions.

She had some hope that Beacon would be different; in Vale, the mystique of the Invincible Girl might not be spread so wide, and the name of Nikos and the idea of the Princess Without a Crown would mean nothing there. In Vale, in Beacon, she would be no champion but only Pyrrha Nikos, a first year student.

So she could hope, at least.

So she could try to be.

Pyrrha walked into her room, to find one of the maids, Iris by name, fastening a suitcase on the bed. Iris looked up in surprise as she heard Pyrrha's footsteps on the floor.

"Oh. Begging your pardon, young mistress, I wasn't aware the party was over."

"It, um," Pyrrha said hesitantly, wondering what exactly she ought to say. "Well, you see..."

Iris smiled. "I understand, Lady Pyrrha."

Pyrrha blinked. "You do?"

Iris nodded. "Young mistress, everything has been packed for your journey to Vale."

"Thank you." Pyrrha murmured, although she could have done her own packing. In many ways, she would rather have done so. It would have meant that the final decision on what to take with her to Beacon rested with her and not her mother.

Still, that was not Iris' fault, and so Pyrrha smiled at her and hoped that it reached her eyes as she stood aside to let Iris leave.

Iris reached the doorway and paused. Now it was the turn of the maid to look a little uncertain. "I…I know it's not my place, Lady Pyrrha, but on behalf of all of us I should like to say…good luck, at Beacon."

Pyrrha felt her smile broaden, just a little. "Thank you, Iris," she said. "Thank you all."

Iris nodded, and curtsied to Pyrrha. "Goodnight, young mistress."

"Goodnight," Pyrrha replied. She slid the door to her bedroom closed behind her, and sighed softly as she leaned across the wall. She was the young mistress to the servants; she was the Invincible Girl to the crowds who flocked to see her tournament fights; to her mother she was a sword, an instrument for the fulfilling of dreams from a generation ago. In a sense Pyrrha Nikos did not exist, not as a person. Nobody knew her. Nobody cared to know. They wanted their Invincible Girl; what the girl wanted was of no importance by comparison.

Pyrrha crossed the room, ignoring the suitcase neatly packed on top of her bed for a moment as she walked lightly and gracefully across the wooden floor to the trophy cabinet on the far wall. The major trophies, her regional tournament cups and the like, were not here: they were on display in the hall where her mother could show them off to visitors and talk about what a prodigious talent her daughter was. But the lesser trophies, the ones from when she was younger, or simply from the less prestigious events, were up here. Her mother wanted them present to remind her of how far she'd come, and to not falter in her determination.

Too late for that, mother.

Pyrrha's eyes passed over most of the trophies, lingering on a very small statuette near the bottom corner of the cabinet. It was a brass statuette of a ballerina, feet crossed, hands in the air; she had won it when she was five years old, and come third in a junior ballet competition. The next year her mother had told her that she was no longer learning ballet; Pyrrha wasn't talented enough to make it worthwhile, better to devote all her efforts to combat training where she showed so much more aptitude. Third place, for a Nikos, was most definitely not good enough.

She had cried when that decision had been made, because she had loved ballet. She remembered loving it more than she had ever loved the fight.

She could, she thought, have been perfectly happy as a third rate dancer; and maybe, just maybe, Pyrrha Nikos wouldn't have gotten lost amidst everything else if she had taken that path instead.

Of course, it was not to be. Fate had decreed it otherwise. Her destiny lay elsewhere.

And besides, she could not have justified the privileges of the House of Nikos, and all the luxury into which she had been born, as a dancer of average ability. She was a Nikos, a victor of the people, and even had she not been born a prodigal in the field of arms it would still have been her duty to venture upon the hazards of that field for Mistral and for mankind.

Pyrrha closed her eyes and bowed her head in prayer that she might achieve the destiny that she had vowed for herself when two things had become inescapably clear to her: first, that she might be one of the greatest warriors of her generation, perhaps more; second, that she would never be allowed to be anything but a warrior.

That being the case, she would be the greatest warrior, and she would protect the world from all the terrors of the dark. That was the destiny to which she had dedicated herself with…she could not quite say that she had dedicated herself to it with all her heart, but at least with most of it.

That last, uncommitted part of her heart still hoped for other and more selfish things.

Pyrrha heard the door slide open behind her. It was her mother, it had to be. No one else would have entered without knocking first.

"You are missing your own going away party."

"I suppose I am," Pyrrha replied. "But the party seems to be going perfectly well without its subject." People can talk about me perfectly well without me needing to be in the room while they do it.

For a moment she thought that her mother would demand that she return to the dining hall, but in the end Lady Nikos simply asked, "Are you ready?"

"Almost," Pyrrha said. "Thank you for having my things packed for me, mother, it was very helpful."

"I still question the need for this. Professor Lionheart is an incompetent buffoon, I will grant, and the reputation of Haven Academy has sunk under his stewardship, but you are so skilled that you hardly require first rate schooling. You will shine just as brightly at a second-rate school. If it were not for the Vytal Festival I would say that you would shine with no school at all. I question what you will gain from this move across the world. What can Vale teach the pride and glory of Mistral reborn?"

I'm hoping that my reputation won't follow me halfway across the world. "With respect, mother, the fact that you don't understand my reasons does not invalidate them."

"Look at me, child."

Pyrrha turned around to face her mother, who stood in the doorway as if it was her intent to block the way in or out.

"You think that I don't see through you?" Lady Nikos demanded. "All that I have done I have done for your own good."

"I'm not ungrateful."

"You do not show much gratitude," Lady Nikos said. "I will be monitoring your grades; if you don't keep up the performance of which I know that you're capable I will bring you straight back here."

"Straight As, I suppose."

"Do you expect me to settle for anything less?"

They're not your grades. "No, mother."

Lady Nikos shook her head disdainfully. "What do you hope to achieve by this? What do you think is waiting for you there?"

"I just want…" Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I want four years with friends, four years of fun and laughter and being a normal person-"

"You are not normal," Lady Nikos snapped. "You are a Nikos of the old blood of Mistral, descended from Odysseus the Third and Juno the Reclaimer and Pyrrha the Second and all the emperors in direct line to Theseus himself. All the honour of our august house rests upon your shoulders and all the history of our most ancient kingdom flows through your veins. You are the Invincible Girl, a prodigy such as has not been seen since the Great War, if not longer! I will not have you dim your light for the sake of others, for the sake of friends. To burn brightly, for however brief a moment, that is where glory lies."

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality," Pyrrha murmured.

"Indeed," Mother said. "Pyrrha Nikos may be forgotten, but the Invincible Girl will live forever in the hearts of men."

But I don't want to be the Invincible Girl. I want to be Pyrrha.

But that was a battle the Invincible Girl had lost a long time ago.

And then there are the simpler ones, the smaller and more honest souls, those whom you trust to light the way for all the rest to follow. True, they are less burdened by self-hatred than some, less plagued by doubt, less gnawed upon by the emptiness within themselves that no amount of accomplishment can assuage. But in the end they are no less lost, no less alone, no less touched by melancholy. And, as you have spun so many lies before their eyes that they are quite blinded by them, they are no less incapable of seeing the truth about the world around them, or of making any choice to affect that world…for good.

The rose is no less touched by frost than any other flower in this garden of yours.

Ruby Rose stood before her mother's gravestone.

It was not where Summer Rose was buried; nobody knew where that was or if there was even…Ruby didn't finish that unpleasant thought. She focussed on the marker, the white stone with the rose engraved upon it.

Summer Rose

Thus Kindly I Scatter

"Hey, Mom," Ruby whispered to the wintry air. It was snowing all around her, and she had the hood of her red cloak pulled up to keep it off her face and out of her hair. If anyone had been watching they wouldn't have been able to see her face at all.

Ruby hesitated for a moment, clutching her combat skirt with her hands. "I…I just wanted to come and see you, because…because it feels like it's been a while, and because it feels as though things are going to change this year.

"Yang's graduated from Signal, and she'll be going to Beacon soon. She's said that she'll come home for the holidays – assuming that she doesn't end up on a team with a bunch of super cool people from Atlas or Mistral who end up inviting her to come and spend break with them. Either way, we won't see as much of her any more. I'm not sure how Dad's going to cope. He says that everything's going to be okay, and I get that it's not as if she's going away forever, it's not like we're losing her, but all the same…Dad relies on her for a lot.

"We both do. I…I'm really happy for her, but at the same time…I don't know what I'm going to do without her."

Ruby trailed off. Her memories of Summer Rose were few and vague. Mom had died when she was just a toddler. Yang remembered more, and had told her that Mom had been a supermom 'baking cookies and killing monsters'. But for herself, leaving aside Yang's stories, Ruby couldn't remember much more than fragments and echoes: a gentle voice, a pair of arms holding her, a flash of silver.

"She does so much for both of us. I mean, there was this time a couple of days ago, just before the snow fell, when I…I kind of knocked myself out running into a tree." Ruby laughed nervously. "Anyway, then this ursa showed up and Yang just took it out. Wham! Bam! Yeah! She's absolutely amazing. She's brave and strong and she's not afraid of anything. And she's kind, too; she always has time for me even though she could just tell me to get lost.

"I don't remember much of you, Mom, but I think…I think that Yang is trying to be just like you, and if she's doing it then…then you must have been pretty awesome. I know that you must be really proud of her, and I hope that you can be proud of me too, because when I'm seventeen I'm going to Beacon too and I'm going to be a fearless huntress just like the both of you. I want to help people, I want to keep them safe, I want to make the world better for everyone!

"Just like Yang. Just like you.

"I love you, Mom."

Ruby turned away and began to walk home. Rose petals trailed behind her, mingling with the falling snow.

So these are your guardians: lost and lonely creatures broken by their own poor choices which, too proud to admit to their mistakes, they ascribe instead to the malevolence of destiny. Neither of us are strangers to such as they, we both of us have made use of the lost and the lonely in the past. Pathetic as they are they make excellent pawns; and, if their eyes can be opened up to the truth about the world in which they live, then it is always possible that they can become so much more.

Which is where we differ, you and I. You use such poor creatures as they as your instruments, and yet because you seek to keep them in the confinement in which they languish those that do not perish in your war inevitably betray and abandon you. Either they seek to quit the struggle altogether and eke out their days in a state of miserable existence, or else they come to me, and in my warm embrace they find the home and purpose that you could never give.

You may call me wicked. You may even call me evil. You may say that I'm a monster, but even if that were true at least I am an honest monster. Is it any less monstrous to manipulate all those around you, to twist their minds and fill them with lies, to use and abuse and cast them aside when they are of no more use to you? At least I offer even my worst enemies an honest choice: join me, or die.

We have both known the likes of these before, but the difference between us is that I can offer them respite from all their struggles. Love, home, power, respect, companionship, answers, I can offer all these things, and what can you offer them but the illusion of a free will that you have never respected, and lies about destiny that will only bring them tears.

So you may train your guardians, you may move your pawns upon the board, you may even seek to make a Maiden to raise up against me; you may put your hopes in a lost girl far from home, in a boy with a head full of dreams, in a princess who thinks herself chosen by fate, even in a simple soul.

But in the end they all shall fall, to darkness…and to me.

Author's Note

I wanted to play on Salem's narration a little bit with this prologue, as well as to establish one of the principle themes of the story and introduce the main characters a little bit. I hope it worked.

I'll try to avoid too much canon regurgitation, but there will be a little bit of it until we get into the Initiation and the formation of the new, different teams.

Rewrite Notes: Not a lot changed here, things just got expanded with the mentions of Principal Celestia, Aoko Arc, and more time with Pyrrha. The only big rewrite is Ruby's section, which has changed due to a chronological difference which will become apparent when our first new chapter gets posted immediately following this one.

Wrath and Melancholy (Rewritten)

Wrath and Melancholy

Sunset stared at the book, lying open on the table in front of her. She stared at the words written on the page.

The Princess of Friendship

Princess.

Sunset's eyebrow twitched. Another princess? A princess of friendship no less, that power that she had counted for nothing? She was reminded uncomfortably of Cadance, whose sudden arrival at Celestia's court had marked the point at which things started to go wrong for Sunset Shimmer, the point at which the cosy pattern of her life had started to crack and the marked out road leading to her destiny had started to seem less certain than before. And now, it seemed, there was another princess in Equestria: a princess of friendship, who had taken the prize which ought by rights to have belonged to Sunset.

Another princess in Equestria.

Princess Twilight Sparkle.

That there was another princess in Equestria was bad enough, but that there was another Twilight Sparkle was almost enough to make Sunset scream.

Twilight Sparkle? Twilight Sparkle? Sunset supposed that she ought to have expected this; after all, she had known since coming through the mirror that there were those – like Principal Celestia – who had doppelgangers in Equestria and Remnant, but she had never expected that one of them would contrive to come between Sunset and all her hopes in not one but two worlds.

She remembered the Twilight Sparkle of Remnant very, very well. Clever Twilight Sparkle, sweet Twilight Sparkle, cute Twilight Sparkle, the sweetheart of the school. She and Rainbow Dash had formed the unholy duo to rule Canterlot with the help of their cronies. She had frustrated all of Sunset’s plots, turned all of Sunset’s plans and ambitions to nought, and now, she – or at least a version of her – had done it again in Equestria too, and on an even grander scale!

It was intolerable, was what it was! How had some bespectacled nerd – Sunset couldn’t help but imagine the human Twilight, possibly walking around on four legs – managed to achieve what Sunset had not and claim the crown?

How had she managed to get her dirty hooves on Sunset’s journal?

Why… why had Celestia given her Sunset's journal?

Did all our days mean so little to you, Princess, that you would cast aside our only means of connection and bestow it on this... this interloper?

Why did you give her the book? What purpose could it serve for her? Why did you think that I'd want to talk to her instead of you?

Why would you treat me like that, cast me aside in spirit as well as in fact?

There was a part of her that wanted to run. There was a part of her that wanted to weep. There was a part of her that wanted to throw the book away and forget that this had ever happened.

There was a part of her that wanted to scream in rage, because after everything that had happened to her recently, this was just too much. It didn't matter that her own ambitions had been denied years before Twilight Sparkle came upon the scene, it didn't matter that Celestia had denied her destiny to her, it didn't matter that Twilight Sparkle had no idea who Sunset Shimmer was, because it was too much. It was far, far too much. Coming on top of Jaune's inadequacy and Pyrrha's ingratitude and Weiss' haughtiness and the racism of Cardin Winchester, it was almost more than Sunset could stand.

Perhaps she should have expected this, that someone would seize the destiny from which she had been barred. But she had not wanted to think on that, and so, she had told herself that there was no one like her, that in all worlds, she was unique and uniquely suited to the crown and to her glorious destiny alike. Now, the world itself reminded her it was not so.

Sunset felt in that moment like the pompous whiteface clown, humbled and humiliated for the delight of the braying creatures in the gallery.

The Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle.

Sunset wanted to run and scream and rage and fight. Wrath and melancholy blended in her soul in equal measures. With a trembling hand, fearful of what fresh shocks might break upon her but at the same time unable to escape her desire to know for certain, Sunset picked up her pen. She had to be careful not to grip it too tight, for she was in such a mood as she could have snapped it in two if she wasn't careful.

A princess, how fascinating. Do you know Princess Celestia well?

Oh, yes. I was her personal student until I ascended, as I suppose you might call it. What about you? How do you know Princess Celestia?

Sunset didn't reply. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She didn't scream, although a part of her wanted to, now more than ever. Another part of her wanted to write more in the journal, to make more demands of Twilight, to find more answers. She had been Celestia's student. Another student of Celestia. Of course. Sunset knew that she hadn't been the first, but she had thought... she had been vain enough to hope... but no, Celestia had taken on another pupil, and she hadn't even mentioned Sunset to her, not even once. Twilight Sparkle didn't recognise her name. Princess Twilight Sparkle had no clue who she was or that they shared the same connection to Celestia.

Did you live with her, in her palace? Sunset wanted to ask. Did she tuck you in at night, did she read you bedtime stories, did she care for you when you were sick, comfort you when you were sad, did she call you by a nickname? Did she take you in when you had no one else, did she provide for you and care for you?

Did she tell you that you were destined for greatness and for glory?

Did she love you as... did she make you think she loved you... does she love you?

And do you appreciate what a wondrous gift you have in her love?

Sunset realised that she was crying; she could barely see for the water in her eyes that was streaming down her face. She whimpered as she wept, weeping for the lost promise of her early days and all the good things she had in vain and prideful folly cast aside, things that she had not realised just how much she missed till she discovered that they had passed beyond recall and settled on another.

I have been robbed. While I have been on a journey, Twilight Sparkle has not only burgled my house but taken up residence within it.

Sunset couldn't remain there. With tears in her eyes, she fled, leaving her book behind and all her things as she ran for the door. Lie Ren stood in her way, but with a single hand, she pushed him to the ground and ran on, her boots thudding like drumbeats on the floor as she ran out of the library and into the courtyard. She ran on, hoping to reach her dorm room; she was going to lock herself in the bathroom and, there, hide her shameful weakness from the world.

"Look out!"

She didn't see him until it was too late, she caught a glimpse of the flash of gleaming armour, she felt the cold hard metal as she collided with it, and then suddenly, she and the other person had gone sprawling on the ground together in a tangled heap. Sunset wasn't hurt - her aura was more than sufficient to prevent injuries from such a fall - but as if her pride wasn't injured enough...

"Woah, watch where you- Sunset?"

It was Flash. Of course it was. Of all the people that she could have run into - literally run into - it would have to be Flash Sentry, wouldn't it? She had knocked his books all over the ground, and with a touch of her magic, Sunset gathered them all together into a rough heap so he could pick them up more easily. She didn't want him to demand she stay and help him; she didn't want to stay here for another moment longer. She leapt to her feet and started, eyes still filled with tears, hair askew, towards her dorm room.

"Sunset, wait!" Flash called. "I just… can't we talk for a minute?"

"What do we have to talk about?" Sunset snapped.

"Just because I'm on a team with Cardin and Russell doesn't mean I'm like them," Flash declared. "I want to apologise for the way that they've treated you and your team. It isn't right."

"I don't want to hear it, Flash. I don't have time for this!" Sunset yelled.

"You never want to hear it, that's why- Sunset, are you crying?"

Sunset flinched away from him, hiding her face behind her long, fire-streaked hair, trying to use it like a veil that concealed what he had already set eyes upon. "No."

"Sunset," Flash murmured. He sounded so concerned, and when he used that voice, Sunset was reminded of how she had believed - how she had let herself believe, how she had convinced herself - that he cared about her. "What's the matter? Has something happened? Maybe I can-"

"What?" Sunset yelled. "Maybe you can help me, is that what you were going to say? I don't need your help, Flash. I never needed your help, and you know what, that's a good thing because you never helped me anyway!" Her fury burned in her hotter than the fire in the belly of a dragon, and because she could not burn Princess Twilight Sparkle to a crisp, she vented out her fire upon Flash Sentry. "I don't need you help, and I don't need anything from you! Nothing at all, I never did!" Sunset's whole body shuddered, as if in pain. She was in pain, the pain of all her sorrows wracked her like cramps. "So you… you can take your pity, and you can shove it!” She turned and fled. "Leave me alone, Flash! I'm done with you!"

She ran, heedless of Flash calling her name, until she reached her dorm room. She fumbled with her scroll until the door opened, and she rushed inside. It was empty. Good. She would hide from the others, from every hostile eye and ear - which was all of them - until she was herself again. Until she re-assembled the mask she wore that Twilight Sparkle had shattered with her revelation.

Sunset grabbed the pillow off her bed - knocking that stupid stuffed unicorn to the floor as she did so - and screamed into it, screaming out all the rage and frustration that she had not vented upon Flash Sentry. Robbed, replaced, usurped, humiliated... forgotten by the person who had mattered most to her in all the world, her dreams denied and her possessions given away like things of no account. She screamed her rage and her sorrow both alike; she felt such emotions and so strongly that she was probably attracting half the grimm in Remnant right now, but no matter. Let them come. She'd fight them all, and even if she got gobbled up by a beowolf, at least she wouldn't have to feel like this anymore.

And then she retreated into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her as she hid in there with her tears and her pillow and her rage for company.

Another princess in Equestria. Equestria had another princess and no reason to think of her any longer. Celestia had a new daughter and no reason for care for the prodigal child who had run away from home.

“You're not my mother. I was a fool to ever forget that.”

“It was your choice to make me love you, though it was my choice to believe that you loved me in turn.”

This is so unfair.

There was a knock on the door. “Sunset? Are you okay in there?”

Sunset didn’t reply. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t anywhere close to being okay, she was so far past okay that she could barely remember what okay felt like… but she wasn’t going to admit it, not to Ruby, or to any of them.

Ruby knocked again. “Sunset…Flash found me-”

“Flash needs to keep his nose out of my business!” Sunset shrieked.

“He was worried about you,” Ruby insisted. “He said that you were… he said that you’d been crying? Is something wrong?”

“Why do you care?” Sunset snapped.

“Because… because you’re my partner,” Ruby said. “And my friend.”

Sunset hesitated. You poor, dumb, naïve kid. And yet, something about the way that Ruby said it… how was it that Ruby Rose could affect her this way, and so easily? She thought it was ridiculous, but she started to get up. She wouldn’t tell her the truth, but maybe-

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked nervously. “I went and brought your things from the library where you’d left them, in case you didn’t feel like getting them yourself.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. The book! Pyrrha had the book! She might even have read it, and if she had… if she had, then she’d know all of Sunset’s secrets, she’d know exactly why Sunset was so upset.

Sunset leapt to her feet; a cold sweat descended down her back as it attempted to douse the fresh-aroused fires of anger that leapt up within her gut. Pyrrha had the book. Pyrrha had her book. Pyrrha had taken her book, her special book, her connection to Celestia! Yes, Celestia had given away her end to Princess Twilight Sparkle, but that didn’t mean it was okay for Pyrrha to go around taking Sunset’s stuff!

Sunset threw open the door and snatched the journal out of Pyrrha’s hands before she could take a step backwards. “Did you read it?” she demanded.

“Sunset-”

“Did you read it?” Sunset snarled.

“No, I-”

“Good. Don’t,” Sunset snapped, shouldering past Pyrrha and Ruby and depositing the journal under her bed. “And don’t touch any of the rest of my stuff, okay? It’s mine, it’s private. If I want to go and get it back out of the library, I will, and if I want to leave it there, then I’ll do that too!”

“Sunset, Pyrrha was just trying to help,” Ruby said reproachfully. “What’s really going on?”

Sunset took a deep breath. “What’s really going on?” she repeated. Where to even start. “What’s really going on?” She looked at Pyrrha. Everything about that Invincible Girl was enraging to Sunset right now, from the milksop look on the pretty face to the reputation that hung around her shoulders like a cape, to the circlet gleaming on her brow that looked far, far too much like a crown for Sunset’s liking. In Sunset’s mind, she didn’t just see Pyrrha Nikos but Twilight Sparkle too, the mare who had come from behind to take away everything that Sunset had ever wanted, everything that ought to have been hers, everything that had been promised to by fate: her destiny.

“You know what’s really going on?” Sunset shouted. “You know what the problem is? The problem is you! You are the most ungrateful person I have ever met; do you even realise how lucky you are?”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pyrrha began.

“Oh, I bet you don’t, you really don’t get it, do you?” Sunset snarled. “You have hordes of admirers hanging off your every word, you get followed by glances and whispers wherever you go, and you’re a subject of press coverage and gossip magazine speculation! You have fame, glory, celebrity, you have everything that anyone could ever wish for-”

“Is that what you think?” Pyrrha demanded.

“Um, guys-” Ruby began.

“Of course it’s what I think! It’s the truth!” Sunset snapped. “You’ve got everything that everyone wants - you’ve got everything that I want - but do you appreciate it? Do you? No, you don’t! You act like it’s such a burden to be loved by so many-”

“They don’t love me!” Pyrrha cried, her voice cracking with anguish. “Is that… is that what you call love? I haven’t had a single meaningful relationship with anyone who wasn’t my mother in my entire life. I haven’t had the chance to form any because I’m constantly being put on a pedestal that separates me from the people who put me there-”

“Oh, boo hoo!” Sunset said, her lips curling into a sneer. “Go cry into your trophy cabinet and take a look at the crown you stole from me while you’re at it!” She halted, if only for a moment. Why did I just… who am I talking to here?

“Do you think any of the people who ask for my autographs really know me?” Pyrrha asked. “Or that they even want to? I don’t have any friends-”

“So what?” Sunset demanded. “Friends are overrated.”

“That’s enough!” Ruby cried. “Sunset… why are you acting like this? We’re a team. Pyrrha’s your teammate. What’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! It’s the world that’s wrong!” Sunset yelled. Wow, even to me, that sounded arrogant. “I mean… you couldn’t possibly understand how I’m feeling right now.” She stalked over to the door. “I just hate it when great gifts are given to those who don’t want or deserve them.” She slammed the dorm room door behind her as she left.

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew that she couldn’t stay there.

Ruby clasped her hands together. She felt so helpless right now. She didn’t know what to say to Pyrrha, and certainly not to Sunset. She looked from the door, which Sunset had just slammed behind her, to Pyrrha, who sat down heavily upon her bed and sighed. She bowed her head, and she looked so sad that Ruby was desperate to do something to help her, even if she didn’t know exactly what to do or say.

“Pyrrha?” she murmured.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I suppose… I was far too optimistic about coming to Beacon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought… I thought that maybe here was a place where I could escape my fame and find… but it seems that my reputation has followed me here, for good and ill.”

Ruby frowned. “For whatever it's worth, what you said isn’t quite true.”

Pyrrha looked at her. “I don’t understand.”

“You said that you didn’t have any friends,” Ruby said. “But… you’ve got me, and Jaune. We’re not just your teammates. We’re your friends, and we’ve got your back through thick and thin.”

Pyrrha continued to look at Ruby. Abruptly, she rose to her feet, and crossed the distance between them. Ruby squeaked in surprise as the taller girl enfolded her in a well-toned hug, pressing Ruby’s head against the bronze and leather of Pyrrha’s cuirass. “Thank you, Ruby Rose, shepherd of the people,” Pyrrha murmured. “That… that means a great deal.” Ruby felt Pyrrha’s hand moving through her hair. “Do you have any idea what could have caused Sunset to behave so... strangely?”

“No,” Ruby replied, looking up into Pyrrha’s face. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“You are closer to her than either Jaune or I,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, Sunset appears to like you better than either Jaune or I, for reasons which she has partly explained now, I suppose.”

“I’m sure that she…” Ruby trailed off. “I don’t know. I don’t really get people. That’s why I prefer weapons where you can tell what the problem is and fix it with an armorer’s wrench.” Her silver eyes widened. “But I know who does get people!” Ruby cried, as she pulled herself free of Pyrrha’s embrace and took her teammate by the hand. “Come on!” She led - or rather dragged - Pyrrha across the hall, where she knocked loudly on the door.

After a moment, the door was opened by Lie Ren. “Ruby, Pyrrha,” he said equably. “Is Sunset okay? She seemed a little… agitated earlier today.”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Ruby muttered. “Is Yang here? Is it okay if we come in?”

“Of course,” Ren said, with only a trace of reluctance. “What difference do two more make?”

They only understood what he meant when he stepped aside to admit them into the Team YRDN dorm room, revealing that - in addition to the four members of the team - the room was also playing host to Lyra and Bon Bon of Team BLBL.

“Hey, Ruby! Pyrrha,” Yang greeted them with a wave as she got up off her bed. “You’re just in time to see Dove here on a double date.”

“It’s not a double date!” Lyra protested indignantly. “We’re just friends hanging out.”

Yang smirked. “I know, but it’s too much fun to tease you about it.” She strolled up to Ruby and Pyrrha. “I’d offer you something to eat, but it appears that putting Nora and Lyra in the same room equals an impromptu eating contest.”

“I’ll get you next time, Lyra Heartstrings!” Nora cried.

“So,” Yang said, putting her hands upon her hips. “What can I do for you both?”

“How do you know I didn’t come over to hang out with you?” Ruby demanded.

“Because you brought Pyrrha,” Yang pointed out.

“Oh. Right.”

“And Pyrrha... looks kind of shook up,” Yang added. “Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” Ruby admitted. “Something happened, and we don’t…” she hesitated, glancing at Dove, Lyra, and Bon Bon.

“You can trust us!” Bon Bon assured her. “We’re all friends here, right? And who knows, maybe we can help?”

“Maybe,” Ruby said. With Sunset acting so irrationally, we can probably use all the help we can get. “So... we don’t understand what happened, but it’s like this…”

Author's Note

Rewrite Note: Another chapter with not a lot in the way of changes, mostly because I reread this chapter (for the first time in a while, I tend not to look at the early stuff very much) and was quite impressed by things the way they were if I say so myself. The biggest change is seeing Ruby go talk to Yang, and the presence of Lyra and Bon Bon in the room when she does.

Equestrian Interlude (Rewritten)

Equestrian Interlude

The doors to Celestia's throne room creaked open. The princess herself stood at the far end of the great chamber, atop the dais and just before the throne from which she had, for a thousand years, ruled wisely and well over the land of Equestria. Twilight advanced down the traverse, her hoof-falls soft upon the crimson carpet, and in spite of all of her accomplishments, she still felt a touch of that habitual nervousness that she had always felt in the presence of her old teacher.

Spike walked by her side. In Twilight's saddle-bag, the magical book - Sunset Shimmer's book - weighed heavily. Why had Celestia requested that she bring it with her, and why had she asked Twilight and Spike to come to Canterlot to see her at once? Who was Sunset Shimmer, and how did she know Princess Celestia? And why had Celestia given Twilight the book that was meant to serve as their means of contact?

"Twilight," Celestia's voice was almost maternal in its warmth, and as Twilight approached, Celestia descended from the dais with a fond smile upon her ageless face. She craned her neck down to embrace Twilight, and for a moment, student and teacher nuzzled each other warmly. "It's wonderful to see you again, both of you," she added, including Spike in her greeting. "Thank you for coming on such short notice... and for telling me that Sunset Shimmer had made contact with you."

"Of course, Princess," Twilight said. "But I don't understand; who is Sunset Shimmer? And, if this book was intended to let the two of you communicate over great distances, then why did you give it to me?"

Celestia raised her head and looked over the heads of Twilight and her friends into nothing, or perhaps into the past where Twilight could not see. For a moment, she seemed to age before Twilight's eyes, and her eyes filled with sadness and regret. "Sunset Shimmer was a pupil of mine, just as you were," she said. "Before I taught you, I once taught Sunset."

Twilight gasped.

“You mean as more than just another unicorn at your school, don’t you?” Spike asked. “She was your personal student, just like Twilight."

"Indeed," Celestia replied. "Before Twilight, Sunset Shimmer was my personal student, my protégé."

"But I thought you only took Twilight on as your personal student because of how powerful her magic was?" Spike protested.

Celestia nodded. "That is correct, Spike; however, Sunset's magic was every bit as powerful at Twilight's was, or close enough."

"But… if that's true, then why haven't I heard of her?" Twilight said. "Why hasn't anyone heard of such a talented unicorn? Why didn't you tell me about her, that you had a student before me?"

"Sunset strayed from that path a long time ago." Celestia closed her eyes for a moment. "Please, follow me, both of you. I will explain everything as we go."

She led the way out of the throne room via the rear door, leaving the younger alicorn and the dragon to follow her into the recesses of the castle. "I did not teach Sunset exactly as I taught you, Twilight. I was... more honest with her about what I expected and what I believed that her destiny could be."

"You told her about ascension," Twilight said. "You told her that she could become an alicorn and a princess?"

Celestia nodded. "I told her everything; that proved to be a mistake. The knowledge that she was destined for greatness caused Sunset's pride to swell; she became ungovernable, consumed by a sense of her own destiny and impatient of anything that seemed to deny her what she considered rightfully hers."

“I’m guessing she didn’t make the cut,” Spike muttered. “Not least because we’ve never heard of her, but also because she doesn’t seem much like the kind of pony to earn her wings.”

Celestia chuckled softly. "Very perceptive, Spike; that was the irony of Sunset Shimmer's life: that in her heedless impatience to ascend, she rendered herself unworthy of ascension and cut herself off from the destiny to which she aspired. For a time, I hoped that she could learn better, that if only she would repent and open her heart up to the magic of friendship, then… but it was not to be. Sunset was running from something she could not escape, consumed by an emptiness that she could never fill. When it became clear to me that she would never ascend… she took it as a betrayal and fled. That is why, when I began to teach you, I kept you ignorant of my hopes for you, Twilight; I hoped that without that burden to distort your expectations, you would grow without..."

"Without becoming like her," Twilight supplied. She shivered slightly at the prospect that she could have become - and easily, so easily - just like the Sunset Shimmer of Celestia's account: proud, vain, and headstrong, impatient with others and with the world, arrogant, heartless. The Sunset that was revealed through her own account, what she had written unbidden in the magical journal, seemed cut from the same cloth: full of complaints about these strangely named people, Weiss, Cardin, Jaune, and Pyrrha, without the slightest hint that Sunset Shimmer had any flaws at all.

“Come on, Princess,” Spike cried. “There’s no way that Twilight could ever become like that.”

Twilight smiled down at him and placed a gentle hoof atop his head. "That's very kind of you, Spike, and sweet, but it's the influence of all my friends in Ponyville, more than any innate virtues of mine, that keep me on the right path." She didn’t really want to consider that alternative, that some people were just born good and others were just born evil. Not only was the notion anathema to her - after all, she had witnessed Discord himself reformed and redeemed by a simple act of kindness - but more to the point… if Twilight herself was born good, naturally and innately so, and by that quality of innate nature suited for ascension and the crown then… what did that make her predecessor? Innately wicked? But how could Celestia’s choice of student fall upon someone whose soul had from birth been black as filth? Surely, her teacher could not be so fallible. No, it was not so; it could not be so. Sunset had light within her, just as Twilight had darkness within her that the light of the friendships she had made drowned out and put to flight. Sunset had this Ruby Rose, who was the only person she talked about with any degree of affection, but even then, Ruby’s light seemed filtered by opaque glass, its influence constrained by Sunset’s refusal to acknowledge the light of friendship for what it was.

Perhaps it was Twilight’s task to make her acknowledge.

Twilight continued, "But, Princess Celestia, when you say that Sunset left… where did she go?"

"What I am about to show you is one of the rarest - and possibly the most dangerous - treasures of Equestria," Celestia said. Her horn glowed golden as she opened a door.

“What is it?” Spike demanded. “Some kind of really cool weapon?”

The door swung open. Inside was a mirror, an antique-looking but otherwise quite unremarkable seeming mirror.

"I… gotta say, that's a bit of a letdown compared to what I was expecting,” Spike declared. "You did say this was one of the most dangerous treasures in Equestria, right?"

"This is no ordinary mirror," Celestia said. "For three days every thirty moons, this mirror becomes a portal to another world."

Twilight's eyes widened. "Another… world?"

Celestia nodded. "It was through the mirror that Sunset fled when her destiny was denied to her. She sought to find in that world what had been barred to her in this one. For a time, I thought that she might return some day, but… as time passed, that hope dwindled. The diary that you have was a way for us to stay in touch, since Sunset had no dragon assistant as you do.” Princess Celestia looked down at Spike and smiled. But it was a fleeting smile, gone as swiftly as it sprung onto her face. “You asked me why I gave you Sunset’s book. The answer is that I could not bear to look at it any longer.”

Twilight stared up at her teacher, her second mother, and felt a great well of pity in her heart. “Princess Celestia…”

“For a long time, I kept the journal close,” Princess Celestia said. “Hoping that she would write, hoping that things could be made right between us, hoping… praying that she would say something, even to let me know that she was safe. No word came.”

“Did you think about making the first move yourself?” Spike asked.

“Of course,” Princess Celestia replied. “But after the way that things had stood at our parting, I feared to make things worse. I was afraid that if I addressed her, Sunset would only reply to confirm how much she hated me. The years passed, and in the end, I was forced to conclude that Sunset would never write to me again. Either because she had perished or lost the journal or simply… simply because she hated me so much. It has been so long that I was not expecting her to make contact. I am glad to know that she is still alive."

Alive, yes, but far from happy. Twilight hesitated a moment. "Princess Celestia… what do you want to do now? With the diary, about Sunset?"

Celestia stared into the mirror, as if, instead of her own reflection, she could see through it to the world that lay on the other side. "That is not for me to say," she replied. "I have failed Sunset once already."

Of course it comes to me. It always seems to, in the end. And I am the Princess of Friendship; what does that mean if not that it is my responsibility to reach people like Sunset Shimmer? "I… I'd like to keep writing to her, if you will permit me, Princess."

“Twilight, are you sure about this?” Spike asked. “I mean… no offence, Princess Celestia, but this Sunset Shimmer seems kinda nasty.”

"She can't hurt me through a book," Twilight replied. "But maybe I can help her through a book, and if I can… I think I have to try." She hesitated, knowing what she had to ask but nervous about actually doing so. “Princess Celestia… is there anything that you’d like me to say to Sunset for you?”

Celestia closed her eyes, and her face was contorted with an expression of such profound sorrow and regret that Twilight in turn regretted having raised such painful memories in one whom she loved almost as a mother. For a while, Celestia was silent, seeming to wrestle with the past she had thought banished beyond recall. “Tell her… tell Sunset I am glad that she is alive, and that more than alive, I hope that she is well and content. Tell her… and tell her… please tell her how very sorry I am, for all the things that I said… and all the things that I did not say.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: The big change here is the removal of the rest of the Mane Six from the scene, with only Spike remaining to provide a third voice in the conversation between Twilight and Celestia.

Truth Will Out (Rewritten)

Truth Will Out

Jaune had never felt worse than he did now. Even as bad as he'd felt up on the rooftop in the moments leading up to this mess, he hadn't felt quite this bad. Everything was going wrong from the moment that he had blurted out the truth to Pyrrha. It was stupid, so stupid that if Pyrrha wasn't the nicest person that he'd ever met in his life, then she would have turned him in by now, and he would have been shipped home to face the indifference of his family… that is, if he wasn't being shipped off to prison instead. He'd just been so frustrated and upset, and when she offered to help him, he... he was an idiot. Such an idiot. She only wanted to help him, but all he'd been able to see was that he wasn't good enough to stand on his own, unable to stand beside Pyrrha and Ruby, unable to be the hero from out of his dreams.

And it had all tumbled out: the lies, the deception. And then he'd sent her away, yelled at her… the moment the words had passed his lips, he'd regretted them. When he saw the look on her face, how wounded she was by his unjustified anger, then he'd regretted it even more. After Pyrrha left, he had lingered on the rooftop, brooding upon just how much he had screwed up.

And then Cardin had climbed up onto the roof to join him, and it had become clear that he hadn't known what screwing up meant until that moment.

Now, he had to see the hurt and betrayal in Pyrrha's eyes every time he looked at her, he had to see the mute incomprehension in Ruby's face every time he ditched her to hang out with Cardin, and he could feel the lead around his neck chafing every time Cardin pulled on it.

All I wanted was to be a hero. Was that so wrong? Why am I being punished for having dreams?

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. None of this was how it was supposed to go. Okay, he'd never been to a combat school or learned how to use a sword or shield properly, but so what? He had a lot of heart, and he wanted to succeed, and that was supposed to be all that it took, right? Ruby said that if he only kept trying and moving forward, then he'd get there eventually, but even before Cardin had found out his secret, even before that disastrous night on the rooftop, Jaune had felt as though his feet were trapped in cement, as though he were weighted down with lead preventing him from going anywhere. Ruby was nice about it, but she kept racing so far ahead of him that she disheartened him without even realising it. Pyrrha treated him like someone she had to protect, and Sunset... he could feel the contempt that his team leader had for him radiating off her like the rays of the sun. He could see it every time she looked at him. But she didn't know what it was like, none of them did, to fail so hard no matter how hard you tried until trying itself seemed pointless. Sunset didn't stay awake at night worrying about how much of a screw-up she was until she fell asleep in class from exhaustion. She didn't know what it was like to want something that, it was starting to seem, she could never have.

And so, he lingered outside of his room like a phantom, unable to bring himself to cross the threshold and join the others. He could hear them through the door, talking.

"Where's Jaune?" Ruby asked.

"Probably hanging out with Cardin again," Sunset growled. "Now, pay attention, or you'll never get this right."

"I just don't get it. Jaune, I mean. Cardin was picking on him until you stopped it, and now, they're hanging out together like best friends while he acts like he doesn't know us anymore. Did… did we do something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

No! No, Ruby, this isn't you, this isn't your fault! Jaune thought. Please don't blame yourself for this.

"This isn't your doing, Ruby," Pyrrha said, in a voice as emphatic as Jaune's thoughts. "You can't blame yourself for this, and Jaune wouldn't want you to."

"Assuming he'd care," Sunset muttered. "Ruby, I… I know that this is upsetting for you, and I wish that you could learn these truths about the world later… when you were the age I was or older. I know that you liked Jaune, and you trusted him, but… this is what men are like. They're liars and cheats, and they'll break your heart every time if you give them the chance."

"You're generalising," Pyrrha objected. "And… rather cynically at that, I must say. Not all men are as cruel as… as Flash Sentry."

"Are you speaking from your vast experience?"

"Jaune cares about Ruby," Pyrrha insisted.

"Then what is he playing at?" Sunset demanded.

Jaune found himself holding his breath. It was Thursday night now, almost a week since Pyrrha had discovered his secret, and she didn't seem to have told a soul yet, but surely, the pressure to do so must be immense. He slouched against the wall, head bowed.

"I… I can't say," Pyrrha murmured apologetically.

"I told you what Jaune was doing on the roof," Ruby reminded her plaintively.

"I know," Pyrrha replied softly. "But this… this is more important."

Jaune was about to slink away, at least for now, until his scroll went off with a loud buzzing sound. He fumbled for the device, trying to answer it before the sound alerted his three teammates in the room, but he could already hear footsteps only slightly muffled by the carpet.

Sunset flung the door open; she stood framed in the doorway, casting a shadow over Jaune from the light in the room as she gazed imperiously upon him. "There you are."

Jaune froze, wilting under her gaze. His scroll continued to buzz in his hands.

"Answer it," Sunset snapped peremptorily as Pyrrha and Ruby looked around her to stare at him.

Jaune's thumb twitched on the 'take call' button.

Cardin's voice floated out of the scroll. "Hey there, buddy, it's your new best-"

Sunset snatched the scroll out of Jaune's hands. "Jaune can't come out to play right now; he has to tidy his room before bedtime." She disconnected the call before tossing the scroll back to Jaune, who just about managed to catch it. Sunset took a step back, gesturing for him to come into the room. "Now, I expect you to tell me the truth when I ask you this," she said. "Is Cardin giving you a hard time again? Because if Weiss isn't honouring our agreement, then I'll-"

"No!" Jaune said, quickly and loudly. Too quickly and too loudly; he could tell by the way that Sunset's eyes narrowed that far from allaying her suspicions, he had only aroused them. He glanced over Sunset's shoulder at Pyrrha. Her lips were pursed together, and she looked as though she was contemplating telling Sunset something. Not the truth – he didn't think that she would betray his secret now mere moments after refusing to do so – but she might tell Sunset that he wasn't hanging with Cardin because they'd suddenly become best bros forever. But if she did that, and Sunset went storming off to Weiss, then his secret would come out for sure. He stared at her, trying to convey with his eyes his desperate need for her to keep quiet. She said nothing. Jaune continued, "I mean, aha, Cardin's not such a bad guy when you get to know him. And sometimes, it's nice to hang out with another guy, you know, do guy stuff."

Sunset folded her arms. "'Guy stuff,' huh? Such as?"

"Uh..." Jaune stammered. He really, really wished that he had thought about this ahead of time. "We, uh, talk about sports."

Oh, great, just great, you absolute moron! Jaune thought, realising just a moment too late how stupid he sounded.

"'Sports,'" Sunset repeated, spitting the word out as though it were contaminating her lips.

Jaune froze. He could feel the sweat on his brow and underneath his armpits. She was going to call him out on it, she was going to ask for more details, she was-

And then, Sunset smiled. "You know, I'm kind of a fan of motorcycle racing, if that's what you're into."

"You are?" Ruby asked.

"Yeah, I even put my own bike together from parts that I... acquired perfectly legally from a variety of neighbourhood junkyards around Canterlot," Sunset said.

"Yang lets me help on the maintenance of her motorcycle," Ruby said. "What kind of engine does your bike have?"

"900 cc twin cylinder."

"Ooh, classic."

"I know; it hums beautifully," Sunset said. "Anyway, I'm going to get some coffee. I'll be back in a while." She didn't so much as look at Jaune as she walked out the door. He could hear her walking away down the corridor.

Jaune didn't breathe a sigh of relief because that would have been too obvious, but he did dare to think that he'd gotten away with it.

He looked at Pyrrha. She looked away. "I'm... excuse me," she said as she walked into the bathroom.

Ruby wouldn't meet his eyes. She didn't even look at him. She looked at everyone and everything but him as she pressed her fingers together nervously.

Jaune walked to the foot of his bed and sank down onto the floor. Now, he did sigh, deeply and heavily, as he bowed his head until his chin was resting upon his chest.

He heard, rather than saw, Ruby sit down beside him. "Jaune?"

Jaune gave a wordless noise in answer.

"Jaune," Ruby repeated. "What's really going on? These past few days, you've been really distant, spending all your time with Cardin… I just don't get it."

Jaune closed his eyes. "It's not you, Ruby. I heard what you said, and… and it's not your fault. And it isn't what Sunset said, either. I… you're my friend, and you… you mean a lot to me, and… I'm sorry if I've hurt you."

He felt Ruby snuggle up next to him, her body pressed against his. He felt her arms around him; her grip was stronger than you'd think from her size. Her voice was small and soft. "Then what is it?"

Jaune looked down at her. Ruby's face, so close to his own, was guileless; her silver eyes were bright with trust. Ironically, that made lying to her a lot harder than it was to lie to someone like Sunset who didn't trust him one bit anyway. It changed nothing and cost him nothing to lie – or try to lie – to his team leader, but with Ruby... she trusted him, and that trust was like the glass animals that his sister River collected: delicate and fragile. Something he couldn't bring himself to break.

"Cardin's got me, Ruby. He's got a leash on me, and I can't get away from him."

"But Sunset-"

"This is bigger than that," Jaune said. "I… I really messed up. I did something stupid, and Cardin knows, and if... if I don't do as he says, then it's over for me." Jaune closed his eyes and screwed up his face with agonised thought. "Maybe it would be better if it was over."

"Jaune, this is what you want, isn't it?" Ruby asked. "To be here, to be a huntsmen."

"Yes!" Jaune cried. "Yes, this is what I've always wanted; it's all I've ever wanted."

"How do you expect to fight the grimm if you can't even fight for your dreams?" Ruby asked.

Her words pricked him like a dagger. "It's not that simple," he replied. "Ruby… why aren't you embarrassed to be on the same team as me?"

"Why should I be embarrassed?"

"Because you're so cool, and I'm... I'm me," Jaune replied softly. "Sunset's embarrassed."

"No, she’s not. She’s just cranky… sometimes, she can be really, really cranky," Ruby said. "Jaune, in all the storybooks that Yang used to read to me, about great huntsmen and huntresses who saved everyone, most of them didn't go to any of the four academies; most of them lived before the four academies even existed. And they didn't become heroes because they were well-trained, but because they had good hearts. You've got a good heart, Jaune, and that's more and better than Cardin can ever have."

Jaune shook his head and wished he could believe that.

Sunset had not gone for coffee.

She'd known that Jaune was lying. It was obvious that he was lying. Cardin wasn't a good guy deep down; he was an irredeemable jackass, and Jaune had never shown any interest in sports. And if he needed male company, then what about Ren or even Dove? No, he was clearly lying, but it was equally clear that he really didn't want to tell Sunset what was up. She could have attempted to force the issue right there and then, but if she did that, then there was a good chance that Ruby and Pyrrha – especially Pyrrha, considering she knew the truth and was deliberately hiding it – would defend him as they so often did.

But Sunset hoped that, if she wasn't around, they might press him to open up, and so she'd 'gone for coffee' while actually lingering just outside the dorm room.

So she was able to hear every word that Jaune said to Ruby. And she did not like what she had heard.

They had an agreement, she and Weiss. SAPR would stay out of the way of WWSR, and WWSR would do the same for SAPR. It was that simple, and they had agreed to it. They had talked about Cardin specifically. They had an agreement, and Weiss was breaking it, or at least turning a blind eye while Cardin broke it, which amounted to the same thing. Who did she think she was? Did she take Sunset for the kind of wallflower who could be taken lightly, as though she were of little account?

She might be a faunus, and Weiss might be a Schnee, but this wasn't Atlas, and Sunset didn't have to take this kind of thing lying down any more.

The only thing that was stopping her from marching right down to WWSR's dorm room right this instant and giving Weiss a piece of her mind was what Jaune had said about his situation, his mistake, being bigger than the bargain struck between Sunset and Weiss. Sunset doubted that, and in any case, their agreement had not been conditional in any way, and in Sunset's opinion, 'leave us alone' meant 'leave us alone' in all circumstances, but she confessed that he made her curious to find out just what was going on. Ruby didn't ask, unfortunately, preferring to try and pep Jaune up instead, which meant that Sunset would have to get the truth out of him herself.

Jaune stood in the courtyard, looking up at the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the space.

"This is what you want, isn’t it?"

A day after Ruby had asked him that question and Jaune still wasn’t sure if he had given her the right answer. Was this what he wanted? What even was ‘this’ anyway? What was it that he wanted or did not want? What was it that he was doing here?

Well, it seemed right now that what he was doing here was acting as Cardin’s personal servant. He had just finished stripping Cardin’s bed – from the fact that Cardin had had him wait until Weiss was somewhere else, Jaune guessed that she was no more aware of the terms of his servitude than Sunset was – and taking the old bedclothes down to the laundry in the basement. He was supposed, at some point before tonight, to put fresh linens on the bed for Cardin, and again, he would have to do this without Weiss or Flash seeing him.

He had come to Beacon to become a huntsman, a hero, but it seemed that he would be spending the next four years as a servant instead. But if he’d wanted to change beds and do laundry, then he could have stayed at home. At least at home, he wouldn’t have to sneak around while he was doing it.

He could still go home. He could leave it all behind: Cardin’s hold on him, Sunset’s derision, the pity of Pyrrha and Ruby that made him feel so pathetic and useless. He could leave it all behind and go back home. Dad might yell at him, Sky and Kendal would definitely yell at him, and they might ground him for a little bit, but after that… after that, it would be forgotten; an autumn’s madness never to be mentioned again, a part of his life to be politely elided over as if it had never happened.

Except it would have happened. And for the rest of his life, he would remember the time he had run away from home to chase his dreams… and given up when things became a little difficult.

"How are you going to fight grimm if you won't even fight for your dreams?"

Ruby's question echoed in his mind alongside the words of Sunset. Ruby said that he should fight, but he sucked at fighting. He couldn’t beat Cardin in a fair fight, and Cardin wouldn’t give him a fair fight; he didn’t need to. He had Jaune by the short and curlies. He wouldn’t fight at all; he would just reveal Jaune’s secret to the whole school, and Jaune would be going home anyway.

Maybe it was better to just leave without all the fuss and trouble. Maybe it was better to just slink off home; he couldn’t believe that Cardin would be so petty as to pursue him once he was away from Beacon.

Maybe it was better to just… to give up on everything that he’d ever wanted to be and condemn himself to a lifetime of misery and regret.

He didn’t want that. But he didn’t really want to spend four years under Cardin’s thumb either, and yet, it seemed that they were the only two choices available to him.

Maybe a real hero could have found another way, a path through the thorns to the green fields beyond, but Jaune Arc was already starting to doubt that he was a real hero.

He was just a boy, and he didn’t know what to do.

His eyes turned upwards to the statue, to the strong and noble huntsman with his sword raised aloft.

Jaune bet that guy had never been bullied at school, whoever he was.

"Admiring the decoration, Mister Arc?"

Jaune looked to his right to find Professor Ozpin standing there, leaning slightly upon his cane while sipping cocoa out of a mug with his other hand.

"Professor!" Jaune said, in a voice that was almost a startled yelp. "You can move very quietly."

"Of course," Professor Ozpin said, his own voice running with amusement. "I, too, graduated Stealth and Security once upon a time."

"Uh, right," Jaune murmured. He wasn't sure what else to say or do.

Professor Ozpin looked at him over the top of his small spectacles. "Something on your mind, Mister Arc?"

Jaune was certain that the headmaster already knew the answer to that. Talking to him, it was like he could see right through Jaune. "I… Professor, can I ask you a question?"

"I am at your service, Mister Arc."

"What happens to a team if one member leaves? If someone drops out?" Jaune asked.

Professor Ozpin sipped his cocoa. "An interesting question, Mister Arc, the answer to which depends greatly upon timing. This early in the first semester of the first year, if you were to depart, I daresay that another student, one of our failed applicants who did not take up an offer elsewhere, could be approached and offered a place here. They would have some catching up to do, of course, and possibly a special initiation in order to prove themselves, but nothing insurmountable to someone willing to work hard."

"How… how did you-?"

"Why else would you have asked, Mister Arc?" Professor Ozpin inquired.

"I… I suppose I wouldn’t have," Jaune said. He looked away from the headmaster. "Can I ask you another question?"

"I have no pressing matters, Mister Arc."

"Were… were they ever real?" Jaune asked, referring to the statue in the courtyard.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "You mean are they based on life? No, Mister Arc; if we were to commemorate in stone every alumni whose courage warranted such a thing, we would soon run out of space in the school. Hence, what you see before you is an ideal to strive for."

Jaune nodded. It was like Pyrrha had said: an ideal to strive for. An ideal that seemed so far away. "I'm afraid that I don't have the strength for this, Professor."

"You are a rather unique student, I must admit," Professor Ozpin admitted. "Most of our students come here already reasonably proficient in the art of bludgeoning monsters to death with a variety of powerful weapons. But have you wondered why this Academy exists in the first place, Mister Arc, as skilled as some of your classmates are?"

"I… it doesn't seem as though Pyrrha and Ruby are getting much out of sparring class," Jaune admitted. "I suppose… is it the history classes and stuff?"

Professor Ozpin smiled. "The academics are important and ought to be treated as such," he informed Jaune. "But more important still is the ethos of a huntsman which we strive to imbue in all our students. It takes more than strength to make a huntsman or a hero."

"It does?"

"Let me ask you a question, Mister Arc: when the hero draws a magic sword out of a stone, what makes him a hero? Is it his magic sword, or is it the pure heart that enabled him to draw it from the stone?"

Jaune was silent for a moment. "Ruby and Pyrrha, they both told me something like that… I thought they were patronising me."

Professor Ozpin sipped some more cocoa. "I suspect that was your own fears talking, Mister Arc, not the tongues of your teammates." His eyes closed as he fell silent for a moment. "'A huntsman is sworn to valour,'" he declared. "'His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His might upholds the weak. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.'"

"Professor?"

"The oath of a huntsman of Beacon Academy, Mister Arc," Professor Ozpin explained. "Every academy administers its own oath to its graduates, and this is ours. I fancy it would be my favourite, even if it were not, as it were, mine. Valour, Mister Arc, and a heart full of virtue."

"Also might," Jaune pointed out.

"True," Professor Ozpin allowed. "But no one part of the oath is more important than any other, and any one aspect can be learned in the course of four years here."

Jaune bowed his head. "But I'm a liar, Professor, and I've said and done things that have hurt my teammates."

"How many of your contemporaries do you believe already model all the virtues of a huntsman or huntress?" Professor Ozpin inquired.

Jaune frowned. "Ruby?" he suggested. "Pyrrha, maybe?"

"Miss Rose comes very close," Professor Ozpin granted him. "Miss Nikos… speaks the truth a little less often perhaps than she ought. But I am not inclined to judge my students too harshly for being human. The oath, like the statue, is an ideal to strive for, not a measuring stick."

Jaune felt almost more confused now than he had before the headmaster arrived. "What… what should I do, Professor?"

"The choice is yours, Mister Arc," Professor Ozpin replied. "It cannot be taken away by me or anybody else. Just know that there will always be a place at Beacon for those who are brave and kind. Always provided that they wish to take it."

Queen to H5.

Sunset moved the white queen into the appropriate position on her chessboard. A Wayward Queen Attack; I wouldn't have expected you to be so bold, Princess.

What have I said that would lead you to think I was timid?

Sunset didn't reply. Instead, she studied the board for a moment before moving one of her black knights out. Knight to C6. Would you rather I credit you for boldness or ask if you've played this game before? Wayward Queen is an amateur opening.

We are amateurs.

Speak for yourself, Princess.

Bishop to C4.

Pawn to G6. Sunset moved the pieces into position on the chessboard that sat beside her on the desk. I suppose that I should thank you for agreeing to play with me. I'm starved of intellectual equality in this place.

I'm sure you must be being harsh on your companions. Queen to F3.

What makes you say that?

Because you're harsh to everyone, or at least, you appear so to everyone except this Ruby Rose. It's your move.

I am as harsh on others as others deserve, neither more nor less. I know my worth, none better, and I know the worth of others to the ounce. Why should I give them false measure? Considering the lack of recognition I have received, I should rather be praised for my honesty in not unfairly denigrating those about me as I have so often been denigrated.

There was no reply from Twilight for a few moments. It's still your move.

Knight to F6. So, if you weren't playing with me, what would you be doing right now? What does a Princess of Friendship do all day?

I spend time with my friends, I help them out with anything that they might need my assistance on; I read, I research magic; I'm also the Ponyville Librarian.

I don't know whether the library should be honoured or you should be insulted.

Quiet, you. And I solve friendship problems.

Sunset laughed. She couldn't have stopped herself if she'd wanted to. She had rarely been gladder that that room was empty as she giggled like a filly. Friendship problems!

I can hear you laughing on the other side of the book.

That's because it's hilarious. What are you, a therapist?

I wouldn't call myself that, not least because I lack the qualifications. I just make sure that everyone is getting along and that any potential disagreements are nipped in the bud before they fester into real trouble.

Huh, we could almost She stopped. Her eyes narrowed. Sunset: Is that why you're talking to me? Am I a friendship problem to you?

Unfortunately, you seem to have done a fair amount of festering already.

What a saucy tongue this princess has. Move.

Knight to E2. I thought you might respond to a more assertive approach.

Well, it's certainly more fun than corresponding with a milksop. Do you know, this must be how Princess Celestia feels?

Come again?

She is the player, and we are all her pieces. She moves us at her will, sends us out to fight for her, sacrifices us. Unless you escape as I did.

We both know perfectly well why you left Equestria, and it wasn't for any reason so noble as to free yourself from a tyrant. Even ignoring the fact that Princess Celestia is not a tyrant, the truly noble course if she were would have been to have stayed and fought.

Sunset: Were it so easy. Think about it, and you'll see that my analogy fits perfectly. Knight to H5.

Why do you persist in this? Pawn to G4.

Sunset moved the pieces. Perhaps I simply want what's best for you.

Somehow, I doubt it. Is there nothing else that we can talk about while we play?

In other words, change the subject, or I disappear. Sunset did not reply immediately. Then an idea struck her. As it happens, I have a friendship problem for you to solve.

As they played – the honours were quite even, although Sunset felt as though she gradually started to win as the game unfolded – Sunset described the situation as it stood: Cardin's antagonism, the deal with Weiss, and Jaune's newfound camaraderie with his tormentor, to the point where he seemed to spend more time with Cardin than anywhere else. And he has some kind of secret that has given Cardin a hold over him. So, Princess of Friendship, any thoughts?

In these cases, it's always a good idea to remember that bullies are people too and that they often have some kind of reason for their behaviour.

Cardin's reason is that he's a jerk.

Have you considered that he might be getting bullied himself?

I am not befriending Cardin Winchester. I want your advice on what to do about Jaune. He's never been any help, and now, he's becoming an active hindrance. What am I supposed to do? What do you do when your minions aren't up to scratch?

I don't have minions. I have friends.

I can feel the cold rolling off the page.

Good. As for Jaune Arc, have you considered that he might open up to you if you were a little nicer to him?

He doesn't deserve kindness.

Who does? Anyone at all? Friendship isn't about what we deserve any more than it's about what we need. Yes, my friends have helped me out of a lot of difficult spots in the past, and I've done the same for them, but even if every monster or menace to Equestria disappeared tomorrow, then I would still be their friend because I love them. I love them as I love myself, maybe more. They're my family.

I have no family, and I need none. They turned their backs on me or shut the door in my face, then so be it. I have no need of them.

I don't think you can really believe that. What made you even say such a thing? What made you this way?

Sunset was about to berate Twilight's impertinence in daring even to ask her such a thing when the door opened and Jaune walked in.

Hold on, someone's coming. She closed the book as Jaune looked around the dorm room.

"Pyrrha's in the gym; Ruby is with her sister," Sunset said.

"Oh. Right. Yeah," Jaune said, in the tone of a man who has wandered into a nest of beowolves without a weapon. "Well... I, uh-"

"Stay where you are and shut the door," Sunset said. Now that she had Jaune alone, she was going to get the truth out of him.

Jaune whimpered a little as she closed the door. He looked at the chessboard on Sunset's desk. "Were you playing against yourself?"

"No," Sunset said. "I was playing... I'm playing a correspondence game with a friend. I was just looking at their latest move." She sniffed. "I'm surprised that you even know what a chessboard looks like."

Jaune didn't rise to that. Instead, he said, "So, it's your turn then."

"Yes," Sunset said, with a touch of irritation at his stalling antics.

"If you move Bishop to D5, you can get death in four."

Sunset froze. She could not have been more still if she had been turned to stone. She looked at the board. She looked back at Jaune. She looked at the board again and moved her bishop. She got off her chair and onto her knees, examining the state of play and running through all the possible countermoves in her head. He... he was right.

She looked at him. In fact, she rather stared at him. "How... how did you know that?"

Jaune shrugged. "My father taught me how to play."

"That doesn't mean you should be good at it!" Sunset snapped. She took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. "Sit down on the floor there."

Jaune shifted uncomfortably. "Why?"

"Because we're going to play," Sunset said, rearranging all the pieces. "And you're going to show me how good you really are." She picked up the once more fully-laden board and put it down on the floor, while she sat cross-legged on the black side.

Jaune looked at the closed door. "I... I really need to go."

"You have somewhere to be?"

"Cardin-"

"No." Sunset's voice cut like a blade.

Jaune took a step back. "No?"

"No," Sunset repeated. "Cardin can wait."

"He really can't."

Sunset gestured to the other side of the board. "Sit."

"You don't understand!"

"I understand that he has something on you," Sunset said.

Jaune let out a horrified gasp. "How did you...? You never went for coffee, did you?"

Sunset shook her head. "Ruby didn't ask you what your big secret was. I'm asking now." She cocked her head slightly to one side. "Pyrrha knows, doesn't she?"

Jaune let out a mournful nod as he sat down. "I told her. Cardin overheard."

"Unfortunate," Sunset said softly. She looked at him, silent, waiting for him to continue.

Jaune said nothing, at least at first. But Sunset continued to watch and wait, and her emerald eyes bored into him… and at last, Jaune poured out his soul to her.

It was... an interesting story, certainly. Like Cardin, Sunset wouldn't have credited Jaune with that much nerve and daring. She felt, in fact – and would feel even more strongly based on how he performed in the game – as though she were seeing new sides to him hitherto concealed behind his impression of general incompetence. If he could be so bold in battle as he had in all that he had done to get this far, then he might actually amount to something.

"So you see, Cardin's got me over a barrel," Jaune insisted. "I really need to get-" His scroll began to buzz. "That's him now!" he squawked, his face paling.

"Don't answer," Sunset commanded. "Like I said, Cardin can wait."

"But he'll tell-"

"Not right away he won't," Sunset replied. "He's too weak for that. The moment he turns you in is the moment he loses his power over you, and he relishes having that power more than anything else. And so, he will warn you and tell you not to ignore him again, not realising that he shows more weakness every time he tolerates your insolence."

Jaune swallowed. "How can you be so sure?"

Because it's what I'd do in his position, the bitter thought rose from the back of Sunset's mind to make her shiver. It was not a thought she wanted, but equally, it was not a thought she could escape. Not when the advantage of this knowledge was pricking at her like a kitten clawing at her leg, desperate for attention.

Nevertheless, she suppressed such thoughts and impulses for now. She even smiled at Jaune, though it seemed to make him more uncomfortable than he had been before. "Trust me, I'm not telling you this so that you can get expelled. I'm not going to deliberately get rid of you.” She gestured at the board before them. "Now, you're white, so it's your move."

They played. He was good. He was very good. He obviously hadn't been trained by a master, as Sunset or Twilight had. While Twilight's play was methodical and controlled, Jaune's style was a bit all over the place – erratic, almost seeming random at times – but that only made it harder for Sunset to follow him and predict what he would do next. She had been able to recognise Twilight's plays, and in recognising, counter them while she waited for Twilight Sparkle to make a mistake in the mid-game. But Jaune didn't use any classical strategies, probably because he didn't know any. It was all coming out of his head, unfiltered, and Sunset found herself struggling to keep up with him.

She won, in the end – if she hadn't, Sunset would have had to throw herself off the roof for the sake of her dignity – but Jaune had given her a close run, and between them, they had slaughtered most of the pieces on the board, on both sides.

He had run her close. Closer than someone as lazy, stupid, and ignorant as him had any right to do.

Sunset felt – as she flattered herself that Pyrrha had felt in the ring – a degree of respect for a formidable opponent.

That respect was tempered by a degree of sheer flabbergasted astonishment.

Her amazement was soon joined by a degree of anger that was far from insignificant. So far, in fact, was her wrath from being insignificant that when Sunset spoke, her voice was like ice. "Let me ask you something, Jaune," she said, her voice clipped with menace. "If you have such wit in you, if you can think like this, if you can strategize like this, then let me ask you... why haven't you showed this side of you before?"

Jaune cringed in the face of her fury.

"Someone as... as dumb as you appear to be wouldn't last a handful of moves against me, and he wouldn't deserve to," Sunset declared. "But you... you are clearly not an idiot. So what's the big idea? You lie to get in here, and then... what? You don't do any of your schoolwork, you train out of beginners' guides when Pyrrha is right over there, I mean… what are you thinking?"

"If I can't get stronger at the actual fighting part of being a huntsman, then what's the point in all the other stuff?" Jaune demanded. "And as for Pyrrha… She shouldn't need to help me catch up, and I shouldn't need her to."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "You're smarter than you look in some respects, but clearly not others."

And yet, Sunset found that she was not without sympathy for him. He wanted to be the hero, and in pursuit of that dream, he had crossed lines and broken rules. She'd be lying to herself if she hadn't done the same, and for much the same reasons. He might speak of dream instead of destiny, but it was all much the same, especially if you took Pyrrha's view of destiny as something that you made rather than something bestowed on you from birth. She and Jaune were much alike, more so than she had supposed before or been willing to admit; now that she could see that he wasn't a complete incompetent but, rather, had some raw materials worth working with, she found that she was more willing to concede the commonality between them. A little.

He was worth preserving. He would never be Pyrrha or Ruby, and he would certainly never be Sunset, but between his mind and his abnormally large aura, he would be of use if he could be brought up to scratch.

The difficulty, it seemed, was his pride. Fortunately, he had handed Sunset the weapon she needed to batter that down.

"You want to be the hero," she said. "Guess what: we all want to be the hero. It's why we're here, at day’s end. Remember when we carved our initials on the wall: I said that we'd all be great huntsmen some day, and I meant it then. I mean it now too. You can become a hero, Jaune Arc. And I'm going to help you get there."

"Cardin-"

"Isn't going to be blackmailing you anymore," Sunset said soothingly. "Auntie Sunset is going to make sure that bad man leaves you alone." She smiled like a shark. "I'm going to be blackmailing you instead."

"Sunset!"

"Don't be like that; it won't be anything too onerous," Sunset said. "First, you're going to go to apologise to Ruby; I know that you know full well how much you’ve upset her.”

Jaune nodded glumly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“I won’t put up with that,” Sunset said sharply. “Tell her you’re sorry.”

Jaune swallowed. “Sure. Of course.”

“Second, you can apologise to Pyrrha too; apologise and tell her that you want her help in training your fighting skills. Third, I – out of the goodness of my heart – am going to get you up to speed in your academics alongside Ruby. Fourth, you're going to do your homework each night, and the moment I catch you slacking off, this team will be looking for a new name. Now, how does that sound to you?”

"Are you going to ask me to do your laundry too?”

“I’m going to ask you to keep a civil tongue in your head and not give me lip when I’m trying to help you,” Sunset said sharply. “Do I look like Cardin Winchester? No, I’m not going to ask you to do my laundry.” I ought to, but Ruby and Pyrrha wouldn’t stand for it. “Now, do you want this or not?”

“Yes,” Jaune replied, without hesitation. “This… it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

"Good," Sunset said. "Because Ruby and Pyrrha would mope if you got thrown out, and I don't need it. Trust me, you'll be a great huntsman in no time."

"And Cardin?"

"Cardin… Cardin Winchester is going to get what’s coming to him,” Sunset declared. “And you are going to help me make sure he gets it.”

“I am?” Jaune asked uncertainly. “But you just said I was done with Cardin.”

“You’re almost done with Cardin,” Sunset corrected herself. “After he and Weiss learn one of the most valuable lessons they’ll ever get in their four years here.”

“Which is?”

Sunset’s grin was positively vicious. “Nobody messes with Sunset Shimmer and gets away with it.”

Author's Note

Rewrite Notes: After two chapters that were pretty extensively rewritten, this chapter is a lot closer to the original except in the ending. Rather than telling Jaune that she'll take care of everything, Sunset leaves him feeling as though he has to make a decision for himself. This continues with the goal of giving Jaune a little more agency in his own arc.

The Man in the Emerald Tower (Rewritten)

The Man in the Emerald Tower

“-completely unnecessary, not to mention reckless and unauthorised!” Professor Goodwitch snapped as she paced up and down across the amphitheatre.

Apparently, they were not important enough to be worth the Headmaster’s time to deal with directly.

“Professor, we had intelligence of an imminent robbery,” Blake tried to explain.

“Then you should have passed this on to the relevant authorities, Miss Belladonna,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“The relevant authorities haven’t been doing anything, Professor Goodwitch,” Ruby protested. “Someone had to do something!”

“You are not a huntress yet, Miss Rose,” Professor Goodwitch snapped, “and as I understand it, it was the only sudden manifestation of Mister Arc’s semblance that prevented you from ending up as a headstone on the cliff beside your mother.”

“That’s out of line, Professor!” Yang shouted.

“No, Miss Xiao Long, putting yourselves in jeopardy as you did was out of line,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “I wonder what your father would say about your conduct in all of this?”

Ruby squeaked in alarm. Yang took an involuntary step back.

“And no, that is not an empty threat on my part,” Professor Goodwitch declared. “Perhaps you’ll listen to Tai when he tells you that a huntsman must exercise wisdom in equal measure with their valour. A huntsman who doesn’t recognise his own limitations will only be another death to add to the list of those they failed to save.” Her tone softened. “One of your number almost died tonight,” she reminded them. “Any one of you could have joined them. Confidence is one thing, but none of you are invincible, not even you, Miss Nikos.”

“I’m well aware, Professor,” Pyrrha said.

“Or you, Miss Dash,” Professor Goodwitch added. “Perhaps General Ironwood should have spent a little less time training you to fight and a little more time teaching you to think.” Her eyes swept across the entire group. “Mister Wukong, your status has yet to be determined, but there is sufficient room for you to stay at Beacon while Professor Ozpin and Professor Lionheart discuss your future. However, while you are at this school, you will follow all of the rules of Beacon and conduct yourself in such a manner consistent with the reputation of Haven Academy. Including following the law.”

“Yes ma’am!” Sun yelped.

“Miss Belladonna,” Professor Goodwitch continued, “may I ask why you felt the need to precipitate this entire affair by disappearing? You behaved as though you were in trouble when you were not… and could have gotten yourself into serious actual trouble.”

Blake glanced at Rainbow Dash, but said, “I have no excuse, Professor.”

Professor Goodwitch drew in a deep breath. “Miss Dash. Attacking a fellow student, unilaterally deciding to hunt down a fellow student in spite of Professor Ozpin making himself perfectly clear to you that Miss Belladonna was welcome here, calling in fire from an Atlesian warship over Valish soil. You should think yourself lucky that you didn’t cause an international incident! You may rest assured that General Ironwood will be hearing all about this in due course; I am sure that this is not what he expects of his students.”

Rainbow Dash paled visibly.

“Miss Schnee, Mister Sentry, you may go,” Professor Goodwitch said.

“Professor?” Weiss asked, seeming to not understand what she had just heard.

“As you did not set out to engage in a battle, but only acted upon impulse to defend the lives of your fellow students, you will not be receiving any punishment on this occasion,” Professor Goodwitch informed them. “Which is more than I can say for the rest of you.”

It would have been easy for Weiss and Flash to head straight back to their dorm room, since they were getting away without any punishment for their actions. Weiss, however, did not go back to her dorm room. She lingered outside of the amphitheatre in the chill of the night - or the early morning now, she supposed - waiting.

“Weiss?” Flash asked, turning back towards her when he realised that she wasn’t following. “Is something wrong?”

Weiss clasped her hands together behind her as she waited. “No,” she said softly. “Not wrong, at least I don’t think so. I just need to have a quick word with Blake.”

“Right,” Flash murmured, taking a step closer towards her. “What kind of word?”

“Not the hostile kind,” Weiss replied. “Just… the curious kind.” She paused for a moment. “It doesn’t bother you? What she used to be?”

Flash was silent for a moment. “I… would be lying if I said that it didn’t bother me at all,” he admitted. “The White Fang have done some terrible things, and she used to be one of them. But that’s the point, isn’t it: she used to be. Just like we humans used to keep faunus as slaves, and still… I guess what I’m trying to say is that if Blake can forgive us for that, then I can try and forgive her for what she was before.”

Weiss looked up at him. The moonlight fell upon his face, giving his skin a fairer aspect than normal; it made the blue of his eyes stand out all the more. “You’re a very good man, Flash Sentry.”

He looked away in embarrassment. “Well, I don’t have it in me to be a great man, so I suppose I ought to try being a very good one if I can.”

“You shouldn’t undersell yourself.”

“A great man,” Flash said seriously, “would have taken that hit instead of Ruby.”

Weiss’ brow furrowed. “You can’t blame yourself for that; nobody was fast enough to get in the way of that attack except Ruby-”

“And that’s what makes her great,” Flash declared, “and me not.”

Weiss could concede the point of Ruby’s exceptional ability without simultaneously accepting any denigration of Flash by comparison, but before she could say anything to that effect, Blake emerged from out of the amphitheatre.

Her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of Weiss and Flash. “Is… something wrong?”

“I hope not,” Weiss said. She hesitated for a moment. “I’m aware that what I’m about to ask might be difficult for you… and I suppose if you tell me to butt out, then there’s nothing I can do about it, but I’m hoping that you will tell me… a trainload of dust was stolen not long before the beginning of the semester. Do you know anything about that?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “I ought to,” she admitted. “I helped to steal it.”

Weiss was very still, even as her insides roiled as though she’d eaten something that had disagreed with her. “I see.”

“It was my last mission with the White Fang,” Blake continued. “It was… my chance to get away from Adam and the rest. Free transport, you could say.”

“So it was you who severed the engine from the cargo cars?” Weiss demanded.

“Yes,” Blake said.

“And if you hadn’t?”

Blake’s gaze flickered down to the ground. “Adam would have blown the engine.”

“I see,” Weiss whispered. She smiled. “Thank you.”

Blake blinked in surprise. “You’re… thanking me?” she gasped. “But I… all that dust-”

“All those lives,” Weiss countered. “Worth so much more.”

Professor Ozpin sipped from his mug of cocoa as he watched, for the third time tonight, the footage of the first-year students and their battle at the docks.

Considering the circumstances, they had all performed most admirably. Although he would have to thank James for the invaluable contribution of his forces. And won’t he enjoy hearing that? James was a good man, and not given to the sin of personal pride, but when it came to pride in his military and his students… it could get just a little much, sometimes.

However, it could not be denied that, absent the Atlesian intervention, things would have gone much worse than they had. They had been staring down defeat and possibly the loss of some very promising young people, and instead, they had won a victory. He wasn’t going to deny that fact merely to avoid swelling James’ ego.

In any event, there were more important matters to consider. With the touch of a button, Ozpin switched from the live feed images to a message from his agent in the field: Ruby’s uncle, Qrow Branwen.

It was very simple: Queen has pawns.

Indeed she does. Ozpin sighed. They – the first-years – had removed a few hostile pawns from the board tonight, but how many more of them had yet to be dealt with before they confronted the serious pieces, the knights and rooks?

Still, tonight was a victory. Considering the other ways in which it could have ended, this was a definite success.

And yet, it was a victory that should not have been, a battle that need never have been fought.

He had not intended to cast the children into the war so soon. He had wished – he had hoped – to preserve their innocence a little while longer.

It appeared that, gallant as they were, they were determined to force their way into the story, one way or another.

If they will insist on joining the battle, then I may have to reveal to them the true shape of the battlefield.

He had known – or at least strongly suspected – that this moment would come, for one of them at least, but he had hoped it would not come so soon.

It still need not, not yet. One incident, the scope of which they were as yet unaware of, did not necessitate such a step.

And yet, it showed that step might one day be necessary.

At least those students had, tonight, given him cause to think that his instincts about them had been right.

If he had to involve them in his affairs, he would at least be involving the right people.

The elevator doors opened, and Glynda walked into his office. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she strode towards his desk.

“Ah, Glynda,” he said, gesturing to the other coffee mug. “Would you care to join me?”

“No, thank you,” Glynda replied. “It’s a little late, and I’d like to get some sleep tonight. Or rather, this morning.”

“Suit yourself,” Ozpin said genially, taking another sip of the hot cocoa. “Are the students all in bed?”

“They are,” Glynda declared. “Or in their dorm rooms at least. I gave Mister Wukong a room to himself for now.”

“And you’ve informed them all of their punishments?”

“Detentions on both days of the weekend, for the next three weekends, starting next week,” Glynda replied. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “I think that something should have been done to punish Miss Schnee and Mister Sentry. The fact that they left Beacon – in lockers no less – was reckless in the extreme, and the situation they walked into was dangerous.”

“And yet, the fact that they were motivated to go gives me hope,” Ozpin said.

“There are proper authorities, Professor-”

“Yes, I am sure it would have been the right course of action for Miss Schnee to have stayed to do what Miss Sparkle did and informed me of what was going on,” Ozpin replied, cutting her off before she could finish. “Just as it would have been the correct course of action for Miss Belladonna to pass her information onto the police. And yet…”

“And yet, Professor?”

“If humanity has a chance to survive, it is not because of armies or ships or dust munitions but because of the bonds of friendship that inspired Miss Schnee and Mister Sentry to risk their lives for their comrades, that inspired Team Sapphire to stand by Miss Belladonna, that allowed Mister Arc to discover his semblance tonight to save a dear friend. The ties that bind us together are our greatest asset against the darkness.”

“I understand,” Glynda said, although judging by the slight impatience slipping into her voice, she didn’t understand as well as he might have liked. “But these are still children.”

“I’m well aware of that, and there are even times when it is good to see them behaving like children,” Ozpin agreed, “but there are also times when it is good to see what kind of fine adults our children will become with our assistance.” He refilled his cocoa mug from the porcelain pot. “She’s coming for us, Glynda; the days of childhood may end all too soon.” He smiled. “You should be proud; they all performed admirably. You’ve taught them well, I see.”

“You can’t distract me with flattery.”

“Nor would I ever seek to do so,” Ozpin reassured her. “A major quantity of dust was not stolen, and our students have been buoyed in confidence by a small victory. Tonight… has been a good night.”

“Mhm,” Glynda murmured. “And what about Miss Nikos? Do you plan to tell her?”

“Not yet.”

“Her performance in battle is exemplary,” Glynda said. “Honestly, I don’t feel as though she’s learning anything in my sparring class. She’s as ready as she’ll ever be.”

“I’m sure she is,” Ozpin said. Just as he was sure that Miss Shimmer was ready to look behind the curtain and find out some of the truth that he and his inner circle kept concealed from the world. “But, as you said, they are still children, and there is still time for them to enjoy a little more childhood yet.”

How much time exactly, he couldn’t say, not with the mysterious Black Queen on the move, but considering the burden that he meant to place upon Miss Nikos’ shoulders… he was willing to give her what little time he could.

“Three weekends of detention!” Sunset snapped as she slammed the door behind her.

“It could have been worse,” Pyrrha murmured apologetically.

“Not much worse,” Sunset growled. “Three weekends,” she added, her voice dropping to more of an angry mutter. She stalked across the bedroom and sat down heavily upon her bed.

“Hey, Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, his voice gentle and a little uncertain.

Pyrrha undid her ponytail. Her long red hair fell down behind her, spread out across her back. “Yes, Jaune?”

“I wanted to ask you something, about tonight,” Jaune said. “How… how did you do that thing with the Bullhead?”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “Oh. Yes. That… I suppose I should have told you all much sooner… force of habit I suppose. That was my semblance.”

“Your semblance?” Ruby repeated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your semblance before. I wasn’t sure whether you had one, but I didn’t want to mention it.”

“Nobody’s sure if Pyrrha has a semblance,” Sunset said. “It’s the most common point of speculation on the fan boards.”

“Well, I do have a semblance, and you have seen me use it, even if you didn’t realise it,” Pyrrha said. “My semblance is Polarity. I control magnetism. I can move metal, like the Bullhead tonight.”

“Or like the weapons that never seem to hit you,” Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha smiled sheepishly. “Well… a lot of that is plain skill, if I do say so myself,” she replied. “But, yes, occasionally, I divert my opponent’s weapon away, just give it a little nudge. That’s why I keep my semblance a secret: it’s my trump card against a skillful opponent. That’s why… as I said, I should have told you. I’m not just used to telling anyone.”

“Understandable,” Jaune said. “Habits are hard to break.”

“And we’re not going to tell anyone, right?” Ruby asked.

“Of course not,” Sunset said. “Your advantage is our advantage too… plus, you know, we’re a team and would never betray your confidence.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured. “It… it feels good to be able to trust someone with this.”

“You can trust us with anything,” Ruby declared. “Any time. Because we’re your friends.”

“Friends, teammates,” Sunset said. “Fellow condemned prisoners.”

“It isn’t that bad,” Ruby insisted.

“Three weekends of detention is quite bad enough,” Sunset replied. “You know what the worst part is? The worst part is that I’m pretty sure that Professor Ozpin set this whole thing up.”

The other three members of her team stared at her as though she were insane.

“Uh, Sunset?” Jaune asked. “You want to run that by us again?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Sunset declared. “He knew about Blake’s past, clearly he likes having a former White Fang agent in the school-”

“Are you sure he doesn’t just want to give her a second chance?” Ruby suggested. “You know… like he said?”

“He knew that she had run off, and yet, he didn’t really do anything either to find her or to stop Rainbow Dash,” Sunset reminded them. “I think he was counting on us doing what we did. I think he set up this situation so that we would be at the docks to stop the White Fang.”

“Sunset, that…” Jaune shook his head. “That’s… why would he do something like that?”

“Because that’s what people like him do,” Sunset replied. Even Princess Celestia was not above manipulating her students and meddling in their lives; she had admitted as much to Sunset. She manipulated Twilight to get what she wanted out of her; the fact that she was doing so with good intentions didn’t get away from that.

And as for Professor Ozpin’s intent… Sunset wasn’t so sure that his motives were benign. He’d nearly gotten Ruby killed tonight through his machinations; she couldn’t forgive that.

“Professor Ozpin is a hero,” Pyrrha protested. “His deeds in the field-”

“Don’t make him trustworthy,” Sunset said.

“Nor do your groundless suppositions make him malign,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“The fact that he knew about Blake is not a supposition; it comes from the man’s own lips.”

“Maybe, but, well… none of the rest does,” Ruby said.

“True, that he concealed Blake’s heritage,” Pyrrha agreed. “But he has concealed mine, too. Neither Jaune nor Ruby knew how nobly born I was until I revealed it. Do you think that Professor Lionheart at Haven would have been so generous? Professor Ozpin respects the privacy of his students; it is nothing more or less than that.”

“My mom and dad both knew Professor Ozpin,” Ruby added, “and not even Mom’s journal says anything bad about him.”

“Yet,” Sunset said. She sighed and flopped back onto her bed. “I don’t want to argue about this right now. Or rather, I’m too tired to argue about this right now. But I don’t trust him.”

And I’m not sure I ever can.

Most of the animals had been carted off to their cages in police vans, but Roman Torchwick was being conveyed in a black and white squad car which he had to himself. Well, aside from the officers up front, of course: Sergeant Alan Johnson was heavyset, with a moustache and a receding hairline; Officer Rusty Brown had freckles on his face and copper-coloured hair.

Torchwick glanced at the brown paper bag sitting on the seat next to him. Since he hadn’t been invited to open it yet, he didn’t. He was a thief, but that didn’t mean that he had no manners.

He stretched a little on the seat, wriggling his hands in spite of the cuffs on his wrists. “So, tell me something, Al, how are the kids? How’s Marie?”

“Oh, Marie’s doing great,” Al replied cheerfully from the driver’s seat. “She made you a pastrami sandwich; it’s in that bag next to you.”

Torchwick groaned with anticipation. “Pastrami!” he declared as he grabbed the bag with both bound hands. The brown paper rustled as he extracted the sandwich, which was slathered in mayonnaise between the two halves of the thick, seeded bap. Lettuce crunched as he bit into it. He could feel the tomato on his tongue. And the meat! Marie Johnson always made the best sandwiches.

“Now that is delicious,” Torchwick declared. “Your wife is a saint, Al, I hope you realise that.”

“Oh, trust me, Mister Torchwick, I know what a lucky guy I am. A great wife, two awesome kids, and a nice house uptown. I couldn’t have done it without you, Mister Torchwick.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d have managed the wife and kids part fine, although I’ll take some credit for the house,” Torchwick agreed.

“So where can we drop you, Mister Torchwick?” Rusty asked.

“Oh… under this bridge, I think,” Roman said. “We can get out and wait without being seen.”

“You got it, Mister Torchwick,” Al said, as he pulled the squad car over underneath a roaring overpass, where traffic rumbled overhead and the bridge cast a shadow over them.

Rusty and Al got out, and Al opened the door for Torchwick to do likewise. He clambered out, still finishing off his pastrami sandwich. In between mouthfuls, he walked away from the car and said, “Best stand well back, fellas. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

The two cops followed him away from their car, even though they both looked puzzled. “Hurt by what?” Rusty asked nervously.

“Oh, you know,” Torchwick said as a black armoured truck appeared out of nowhere, rippling into existence as the concealment faded, to ram the squad car from behind, tail-ending it so hard that it flipped over onto its roof with a sickening crunching sound and the shattering of all the windows. “That.”

The door of the truck opened, and Neo leapt down, beaming broadly.

“Hey, Neo,” Torchwick said. “Nice of you not to leave me hanging.”

Neo signed exasperatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I should have taken you with me on the job. I just wanted to give you the night off.”

Neo signed some more.

“Okay, so this isn’t exactly a night off for you, but it’s not my fault!” Torchwick said defensively. “I didn’t know those kids were going to show up again.”

Neo rolled her eyes. She glanced at Al and signed a brief greeting to him.

“Nice to see you too, Neo,” Al said. “Here, Mister Torchwick, let’s just get these cuffs off you.” He fished the keys off his belt and unlocked Torchwick’s restraints. As they clattered to the ground, Torchwick felt the strength of his aura returning to him.

Al took a step back. “Make it look good, okay, Mister Torchwick?”

“Sure thing, Al,” Torchwick said. “I’m sorry about this.” He decked his tame cop – one of them – across the jaw hard enough that he went down like a sack of potatoes. A similar blow took care of Rusty the same way.

“And with the money we’re paying to that guy in IA, nobody should look too closely at what happened here,” Torchwick declared. He sighed. “Although it’s not the cops that worried me.”

Neo signed.

“Yeah, her,” Torchwick agreed. “She’s not going to be happy we didn’t get any dust.”

Neo signed.

“What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to throw the White Fang under a bus,” Torchwick replied. “But we can worry about that later. Right now, do you want to get some ice cream?”

“Where did you go, Blake?” Lyra asked. “I mean, you just disappeared Friday afternoon after going out with the team leaders – who wouldn’t say what had happened to you – and then you come back now? I thought you might be dead!”

“I knew that you weren’t dead,” Bon Bon said.

“I thought that you might have been abducted by a Vacuo slaver and sold into the harem of a sheik!”

Blake narrowed her eyes. “Lyra, I like a good bodice ripper as much as the next girl – you, in this case, apparently – but those stories aren’t real life.”

“I’ve been trying to tell her that for years,” Bon Bon muttered.

“So what did happen?” Lyra demanded. “Were you in an accident and suffered amnesia?”

“No.”

“Were you betrayed by all your fellow team leaders who tried to kill you?”

“Not exactly, and where are you getting these ideas from?” Blake demanded.

“Leaving aside the fantasy world of Lyra Heartstrings,” Sky said, “where did you go, Blake? Where have you been?”

Before Blake could answer, there was a tap on the window. Coming from outside.

Sky frowned as he opened the curtains, then recoiled with a gasp from the sight he saw on the other side of the window.

It was Sun, waving with his tail as he clung to the window frame.

“Sun!” Blake cried.

“You know this monkey?” Bon Bon asked.

“He’s not a monkey,” Blake said.

“No, he’s a shirtless man,” Lyra declared. “With abs.”

Blake rolled her eyes as she leapt over Sky’s bed and opened the window. “Sun, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know,” Sun said. “Just wanted to see how you were.”

“And you didn’t come to the door like a normal person because...?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if I was confined to my room or not?” Sun said.

“That… is not a completely invalid point,” Blake conceded. She sighed as she stepped back. “Come inside.”

“Thanks,” Sun said, leaping through the open window frame. “Hey, guys, what’s up?”

“Sun, this is my team: Sky, Lyra, and Bon Bon. Everyone, this is Sun; he’s been helping me.”

“So you were with this glorious specimen of masculinity since last night?” Lyra asked, in a tone that suggested no further explanation would be necessary. “No wonder you didn’t come home.”

“Lyra,” Bon Bon whined.

“What? Just because I’ve committed to an oyster doesn’t mean I can’t admire a snail!”

“It’s not what you think,” Blake snapped. “Sun was helping me fight the White Fang.”

The room fell silent.

“The… White Fang?” Sky repeated.

“We caught them trying to rob a large dust shipment down by the docks,” Blake explained. “Sun and I, Team Sapphire, Team Rosepetal, Weiss and Flash of Team Wisteria, we fought them, and we stopped them.”

“But why?” Bon Bon asked.

“Because… because it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Blake admitted awkwardly.

“Never mind about the White Fang, what about Sun?” Lyra demanded. “How did you two meet? Who are you? What’s your favourite-?”

“I need to talk to you outside,” Blake said firmly. “Outside the door,” she clarified.

“Right, sure,” Sun said, allowing Blake to lead him outside the dorm room, where she shut the door firmly behind them both.

“She’s… lively,” Sun said.

“You have no idea what you let me in for.”

“Sorry about that,” Sun said. “I just wanted… to make sure you were okay.”

Blake looked up at him, into those guileless blue eyes. “You’re a really sweet guy, you know that?”

Sun grinned. “I mean… I know that you weren’t totally sure about coming back here, so-”

“It’s fine,” Blake assured him. “I’ll make it work. But… thanks for checking up on me.” She stood on tiptoes to give him a light kiss upon the cheek. “Goodnight, Sun.”

Sun stood still for a moment, his mouth slightly open. “I, um, hey! I know that, uh, we’re not exactly having weekends for the next few weeks, but once we do, I thought that it might be cool to go someplace together. Someplace… not violent.”

Blake stood at the door, and turned to face. “Sun… did you just ask me out?”

Sun hesitated. “I… guess so?”

Blake hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for another relationship, after Adam and everything… but at the same time, how would she know if she was ready, unless she tried?

She couldn’t let the fear of Adam, the memories of what had happened between them, dominate her entire life. If she was going to move forward, then she had to, well, move forward.

And he did have very kind eyes.

“Okay,” she said.

Sun’s eyes widened. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Blake said. “Why don’t we talk about it more… when we get our weekends back?”

“Sounds good to me!” Sun said loudly. “I mean it sounds great! I, uh, good night.”

Blake smiled. “Good night.”

She opened the door and stepped into the dorm room. She heard him shout ‘Yes!’ just before the door closed.

“You went out and fought the White Fang?” Nora demanded, hands upon her hips. “Without us?” She snorted out of her nostrils like a bull.

Yang raised her hands pacifically. “It’s not like I was leaving you out on purpose; it was just-”

“Oh, really?” Nora replied. “So you’re saying that you had no time to call at all during the time you were gone?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I suppose it was a little on purpose,” Yang conceded.

“I’m not sure what’s worse,” Dove muttered. “That you went into battle, putting your life in danger… or that you did so without us.”

“Duh!” Nora cried. “It’s the second one, obviously!”

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I agree with Nora,” Ren murmured.

“Hey! You agree with me on lots of things,” Nora squawked.

“Rarely when you’re in a mood like this,” Ren pointed out.

Nora hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good point.”

“If there was one person I thought might be on my side,” Yang muttered.

Ren rose from his bed, where he had been sitting. “Yang, what were you doing down at the docks tonight?”

Yang was quiet for a moment. “I… I can’t say.”

“Can’t?” Nora demanded. “Or won’t?”

“Both, but mostly can’t,” Yang replied. “It’s to do with… it’s just not my secret to share. You’ll just have to trust me when I say that it was important and that we did a lot of good tonight. If we hadn’t been there, then… some very bad things could have happened.”

“Trust,” Dove said, exhaling slowly. “I’ve trusted people when they left me behind before; it didn’t exactly go well then.”

“But you can trust me,” Yang insisted. “I’m not leaving you behind; I went out, and then I came back.”

“But it becomes harder to trust you when you do untrustworthy things,” Dove declared.

“We want to trust you, Yang,” Ren said, “but-”

“But trust is a two way street, you know!” Nora reminded her. “We’re supposed to be a team, Team Iron! How can we trust you when you didn’t trust us to have your back?”

Yang’s brow furrowed. What Nora was saying wasn’t wrong, but all the same… “It was pretty rough out there for a while. I didn’t want to put you guys in danger.”

“We’re huntsmen, Yang, not your baby sister!” Nora snapped.

“Ruby almost died tonight!” Yang yelled back at her, her eyes flashing red for a moment.

Nora gasped, recoiling a little, her hands flying to her mouth. Dove’s eyes, normally lidded as if he were half-asleep, snapped open. Ren’s discomfort was harder to determine, but even his stoic countenance seemed to become a little less so at the news.

“'Almost'?” Dove asked as he followed Ren in getting to his feet. His voice was hoarse. “Almost died? How… how is she?”

“She’s okay,” Yang whispered. “She… Ruby’s going to be okay. Jaune saved her.”

“Jaune?” Dove repeated. “How?”

Yang snorted. “He found his semblance. Lucky break for us, I guess.”

Dove looked away. “That… that’s good to hear. Ruby… your sister is a gem, Yang. It would be a terrible thing if…”

“I know,” Yang whispered. “Believe me, I know.”

“We’re sorry,” Ren said. “And glad, if you understand.”

Yang nodded. “Yeah, I get it. So you see-”

“I understand,” Ren said. “But, without wishing to brag, Nora and I have seen more danger than anyone at this school, at least in our year.”

“And while I can’t say the same, I would rather have been in danger than find out that I had been sitting idle while Ruby had a brush with death,” Dove said.

“Sharing is caring, Yang,” Nora said. “Are we a team or not?”

“Yeah, we are,” Yang replied. “We’re a team. Team Iron. I’m sorry, all of you. I promise, I won’t leave you behind again.”

The moon shone down upon the coast as the waves lapped against the shore.

It was a beach, a common, ordinary-looking beach - not a particularly pleasant-looking beach, scrub plants growing amongst the sand - but it was an ordinary beach with nothing untoward about it.

A beach towards which a dark shape was approaching through the water.

Adam Taurus gasped for breath as he breached the waves and crawled onto the sand, lying there for a moment as he breathed in and out.

A crab approached his prone and motionless form, pincers snapping. His hand snapped out and grabbed the creature, crushing its shell beneath his fingers.

Adam knelt upright, scooping the raw crab meat out of the broken shell and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing quickly. All that swimming had left him with a powerful appetite, and he still had many miles to go before he reached the safety of Camp Freedom.

He wondered how many of his comrades had made it out. Walter, his strong right arm, was either dead or captured; in fact, of his lieutenants, the only one he had not seen fall was Billie. If she had made it out, then she and Gilda would be the only two he could rely on. Certainly, he could not trust any of the so-called old guard, those who had been there when Adam had taken up the leadership of the Vale Chapter. They had opposed him at every turn, never more vociferously than now. He wouldn’t be surprised if some of them hadn’t sold him out in an attempt to get him killed.

Well, he would deal with them in time. Just as he would deal with Blake and that damned Atlesian race traitor with the rainbow hair!

He would deal with all of them. Anyone who stood in his way would fall.

And his people would survive.

His scroll started to buzz. He didn’t think it was possible; he had thought the device must have broken for sure after so long in the water, but apparently not. Apparently it still worked.

Apparently Atlesian technology – built as it was upon the backs of an army of faunus slaves – was as good as they said it was.

He pulled out the device. Perhaps if it was Gilda calling from Camp Freedom, she could send an airship to pick him up.

It was not Gilda; instead, a sultrier voice by far emerged from the device. “I hear you had a bad night.”

Adam scowled. How did she know that already? “Who told you that?”

“I’m told,” she said, not saying by who, “that the children who bested you are crowing over their victory.”

Adam bared his teeth, for all that she couldn’t see it. “Their turn will come, and so will my time.”

“I hope so. As you so astutely pointed out, I could have gone to a number of people with my offer -: mercenaries, renegade huntsmen - but I chose you, Adam Taurus. I chose you because I thought you had the skills as a warlord and strategist to command my army and deliver me the victory that we both desire. I’d hate to think that I made a mistake.”

“I will do this!” Adam snarled. “This is just a temporary setback! Everything will be in place by the time you arrive from Mistral.”

“I’m delighted to hear it. The world is on the verge of a great change, Adam; a new order is rising. The White Fang can be a part of that new order, if you serve me well. Serve me poorly, and…” She let him think on that as she ended their conversation.

Adam growled wordlessly, crushing the scroll in the palm of his hand and throwing it back into the sea. He would kill anyone else who dared speak to him in such a way, even the High Leader herself. But the witch had power, power that he had seen for himself in all its terrifying glory, and she was earnestly desirous to overthrow the corrupt system of the world that kept his people chained in bondage. She offered him the best chance the White Fang would ever have to achieve victory and the destruction of all their foes.

For such a prize, he would endure much more than her proud and supercilious attitude.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed by it every so often.

Adam took a deep breath and studied the stars above him. Yes… yes, he thought he knew where he was; that meant…

Adam breathed in again and began the long walk home.

The sun had risen, but for Professor Ozpin, there was none of the feeling of a new day. He hadn’t slept since the old one; sleep was a luxury for a man in his position at the best of times, and the business at the docks last night had kept him more than usually preoccupied.

He had reached a temporary end to his labours, but that state of temporariness was likely to be so fleeting that he knew there was no point attempting to go to bed or even leaving his office. Rather, he was using the brief moment when nothing pressed upon him to watch a news bulletin in which – as one might have expected – the robbery of last night – or early this morning – figured prominently.

Currently, the screen was dominated by the face of Sir Orange Peel, baronet, leader of the Liberal Conservative party, vociferously denouncing the soft line of the current Council makeup on law and order.

“Nobody is more glad than I am that Pyrrha Nikos and the Atlesian forces happened to be there last night. Nobody is more glad than I am that so many of these animals are off the streets. But let me be frank and explicit: the fact that an Atlesian warship needed to fire its guns over Valish soil last night, the fact that so many of these terrorist scum are roaming the streets, is a clear indictment of Novo Aris and in the years of police cuts over which she has presided-”

The image faded, replaced by an incoming call indicator from no less than First Councillor Aris herself.

Ozpin rubbed his eyes for a moment and sipped some cocoa – he had only recently made a fresh pot, for which he was very thankful – before he accepted the call.

The face of the First Councillor appeared on his screen. She looked… vexed.

“First Councillor,” Ozpin said politely. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Novo sighed. “You’re not fool enough to have not expected this, Ozpin. Do you mind telling me what your students were doing running around fighting the White Fang in the middle of the night?”

“I… had some intelligence that there might be an attempt to rob the dust shipment at the docks last night,” Ozpin lied. If he told the truth, that he hadn’t known what the students were up to until the shooting had started, then he would have made himself look foolish and possibly gotten the children into trouble. “I wasn’t sure that it would amount to anything, so I had a few my students check it out.”

“And you decided to do this instead of using any professional huntsmen because-?”

“As I said, Madame Councillor, I wasn’t sure that it would amount to anything,” Ozpin replied.

Nova stared at him evenly. “I see,” she said in a voice that gave very little indication either way of whether she believed him or not. “I’d like to have the students come down to Parliament for a photo opportunity.”

“I’m afraid not, Madame Councillor,” Ozpin said.

Novo’s eyebrows rose. “When I said that I would like it, Ozpin, I was being courteous.”

“And I must courteously decline your courteous request, Madame Councillor,” Ozpin replied. “My students are not publicity props for your re-election campaign.”

“Nor are they soldiers in your private army, but you seem to have no difficulty using them as such,” Novo said sharply. She leaned forwards. “Ozpin, these dust robberies were becoming embarrassing enough already, but with what happened at the docks, it’s become impossible for me to sweep it under the rug as a local issue for police and aldermen. I’m sure you’ve been watching the news.”

“I have,” Ozpin admitted.

“They’re going to hammer me on this from the right, unless I can get a handle on it,” Novo said.

“Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to use my students in such a fashion,” Ozpin said. “In order to retain the trust of the whole kingdom, Beacon must be above politics.”

Novo sighed. “If I have to, I’ll just go to the students and ask them directly.”

“And Miss Nikos will refuse on the principle that she is not here to court publicity, Miss Rose will refuse because she dislikes your stance on security, and Mister Arc will, in all likelihood, refuse out of solidarity, if nothing else, although I must concede that you will probably get Miss Shimmer down to Parliament, and Miss Dash of the Atlesian Team Rosepetal. You may even be able to secure the presence of Miss Schnee. But do you really think that parading three Atlesians in front of the cameras will demonstrate that you are on top of things?”

Novo put her head in her hands, if only for a moment. “You do realise that of my two opponents in this election, one of them wants to cut the defence budget to the bone, and the other wants to expel foreigners, right? Surely you can see that I am the best pair of hands for Vale at this time.”

“Nevertheless, Madame Councillor, I will have to work with whoever triumphs in the forthcoming elections.”

“Including me,” Novo reminded him. It was her turn to rub her eyes. “I’m announcing the formation of an inter-agency task force to coordinate the response to these robberies and the White Fang going forwards; can I announce that you’ve accepted an appointment as the head of the task force? All information about this crime wave will hit your desk, and you can respond as appropriate. People trust you, and they’ll feel better knowing that you’re on the case.”

“I must-”

“Work with whoever wins the election, yes, you said,” Novo muttered. “But there’s a difference between endorsing my campaign and working to protect the kingdom from subversive elements within the walls. Surely you can’t object to working for the good of Vale?”

She had him there. Quite frankly, this was the last thing that he needed, but at the same time, she’d put him in a position where it was very difficult to refuse. Somebody needed to put a stop to all of these robberies, and there was very little more important than preventing the spread of panic amongst the populace.

He bowed his head. “I am at the service of the Council, and of Vale.”

“Thank you,” Novo said. “I’ll brief the press shortly.” It was her turn to rub her eyes. “There is also the question of the Atlesian involvement in all this. When the Council granted permission for the Atlesians to station a single cruiser off the coast of Vale and fly some unmanned drones over our skies for a limited period, I didn’t envisage Atlesian forces getting into fights on Valish soil, still less calling in fire support from that same cruiser!”

“What did you imagine they were going to do with a warship, Madame Councillor?”

“I am not in the mood for wit, Ozpin,” Novo growled at him. “Did you decide to get the Atlesians involved in this?”

“Yes,” Ozpin lied. “They have a level of skill and experience that I thought would be an asset in support of my own students.”

Novo’s eyebrows rose. “And here I thought you didn’t like the Atlesian military.”

“They have their uses,” Ozpin murmured.

“I’m sure, but in the future, try and let me know before you make foreign policy decisions; it gives me more time to come up with explanations for them,” Novo said.

“I’ll try and bear that in mind, Madame Councillor.”

“You’d better,” Novo said. “You might have to work with whoever sits in this chair… but whoever sits in this chair doesn’t necessarily have to work with you.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, too, Madame Councillor.”

“I’m glad to hear it. And Ozpin?”

“Yes, Madame Councillor?”

“Pass on my congratulations to your students,” she said. “They did very well out there.”

They would be having detentions for the next three weekends – wasn’t that going to be fun? – but Professor Goodwitch had taken pity on the fact that they’d been out all night and allowed them the chance to sleep in this Sunday. Sunset had planned to take full advantage of her largesse – she would start her new and more rigorous training regiment tomorrow – and was consequently a little annoyed to hear a knock on the dorm room door.

“Ruby,” she groaned, “you didn’t invite your sister round, did you?”

“No,” Ruby replied plaintively. “I think she’s planning to sleep in, too.”

“Ugh,” Sunset groaned, sitting up in bed. There was another knock at the door. Sunset scowled as she swung her legs out of bed and padded over to the door, opening it.

Rainbow and Blake stood on the other side.

“Have you heard the news?” Rainbow demanded. “Pyrrha Nikos foiled a dust robbery at the dockyard!”

Sunset smirked. She was aware of the fact that the media had given Pyrrha and the Gallant almost all the credit, with her companions barely mentioned, if at all. “That must be killing you, mustn’t it?”

“Oh, please, like it isn’t eating you just as bad.”

“Not at all,” Sunset lied. “I have achieved a state of calm about the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Sunset insisted. “Now is that all?”

“Unfortunately not,” Blake replied gloomily. “Can we come in?”

Sunset huffed, but stepped back from the door. “Sure, sure, come on in.”

Rainbow led the way, Blake following.

“Hey guys,” Rainbow said. She snorted at Jaune. “Nice onesie.”

Jaune raised the sheets up a little to conceal more of the blue onesie from view.

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said wearily. “I’m very sorry about the way that last night was covered. I never meant to-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Rainbow said, raising one hand. “I don’t like it, but I’m not going to get mad at you about it.”

“Very big of you to come down here and tell us,” Sunset muttered.

“How’s Penny?” Ruby asked.

“She’s doing okay; she’ll be fine,” Rainbow said.

“So… what are you guys doing here?” Jaune inquired.

“Professor Goodwitch just gave me some disturbing news,” Blake said. “Roman Torchwick escaped from police custody last night.”

“What?” Ruby cried. “How could they just let him get away? We caught him! How they could just… let him go?”

“The police car taking him to jail was ambushed, and he was freed,” Blake explained. “The two officers escorting him were injured but left alive.”

“Oh,” Ruby murmured. “Well… that’s good news. At least no one died.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Sunset muttered. “I suppose we’ll just have to catch him again when he surfaces. If he surfaces.”

“I think he will,” Blake said. “You see, that’s not all.”

“The VPD divers just finished searching the harbour,” Rainbow said. “No trace of Adam Taurus.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “You mean… he’s still out there?” The memory of that red sword, of the sky turning the colour of blood, of everything being turned to pure fear pumped into her veins, flashed before her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Blake murmured. “And if I know Adam, we haven’t seen the last of him.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Meaning that, whatever is going on here in Vale, whatever we stumbled into last night-”

“It’s not over yet,” Sunset concluded.

“It might even be… just getting started,” Jaune muttered.

“Well… what if it is?” Ruby asked. “Whatever’s going on, whatever comes next, we’ll face it together, right?”

Pyrrha nodded firmly. “Together,” she agreed.

“Together,” declared Jaune.

Rainbow flashed a thumbs up. “Together. Team Rosepetal will be there every step of the way. Any time, any place.”

Blake looked down at the floor. She hugged one arm with her other hand. “Together,” she whispered, without much enthusiasm.

Sunset looked around the room: the runaway princess with whom she could identify, the old school rival who was both every bit as bad as Sunset remembered and yet much more tolerable, and her teammates. Her friends. The people who had accepted her and raised her up.

She would stand with them, against whatever the wind next blew their way.

“Together.”

Author's Note

So, the reason this chapter is so short is because it was supposed to form the end of the previous chapter. Only...I forgot to write it. I literally just completely forgot until some time yesterday when I suddenly remembered there was supposed to be an Ozpin scene. So here it is. It forms its own chapter now because it doesn't fit in at all with the next chapter.

Rewrite Notes: This chapter got a whole lot bigger thanks to serving as the conclusion of 'Volume 1.5'. It wraps up the Blake/RSPT arc and lets the characters take a look back at where they've just been and a glance forward at where they might go next.

Swift Reprisal (Rewritten)

Swift Reprisal

“Blake left?” Rainbow asked. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Sun admitted, “but it’s gotta have something to do with the White Fang, right? I mean, why else would she sneak off in the middle of the party like this?”

Rainbow considered that. She didn’t really know Blake well enough to say what other things she might have going on that would lead her to do this, but she felt like most of those other things wouldn’t much interest Sunset Shimmer. If this was something they were doing together, it had to concern both of them, and that… maybe it wasn’t the White Fang… but it might be.

You could have just told General Ironwood what you know, but that would be too easy.

Why do you not trust us yet? Why is it so hard for everyone to accept that we’re the good guys?

She and Sun stood close to the skydocks, removed from the party that was still going on in the courtyard outside. Rainbow said, “And you’re telling me this because-”

“Because she and Sunset left on the ugliest motorbike I’ve ever seen,” Sun reminded her. “I can’t follow them on foot, and I thought you might have, like an airship or something.”

“Do you think all Atlas students have their own airships? Or even all teams?” Rainbow asked. “I mean, I do have my own airship, but if I wasn’t so awesome, you’d be out of luck.”

“I’m talking to you because you’re awesome,” Sun told her. “Neither Blake nor I could catch a break against that Adam creep, but you had him on the ropes. You and Pyrrha are the best fighters I know, but Pyrrha… well, Pyrrha doesn’t have her own airship to start with, but also, Pyrrha… Pyrrha’s really nice and all, but I think she’d tell the professors. I want to save Blake, not get her in trouble.”

Rainbow folded her arms. “You realise that I’m going to tell General Ironwood about this, right?” If I don’t tell him after what happened last time, he’ll hang me from the highest yardarm in the fleet.

“Yeah, the General guy, sure,” Sun said, “but he’s not Blake’s headmaster, so it doesn’t matter what he knows.”

I’ve known Pinkie for five years, and this guy still makes no sense to me.

“I don’t… whatever,” Rainbow said. I’ll ask General Ironwood to keep this under his hat, or at least not tell Professor Ozpin. “You know, Blake might not like that you did this.”

“Fine,” Sun replied. “I’d rather lose her because she broke up with me than because someone put her in the ground.”

Rainbow nodded. “I get that. Okay. Get your weapons, I’ll talk to the General and get Ciel, and then we’ll head out.”

“Is the last of your little rats taken care of?”

Adam scowled. “No,” he admitted.

The voice on the other end of the scroll sighed. “Adam, Adam, Adam; this pattern of failure is becoming rather disappointing. If this goes on, I might have to wonder if your reputation isn’t a little overstated.”

Adam squeezed his scroll almost, but not quite, hard enough to damage it. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Then whose fault was it? Was one bookshop owner tougher than you anticipated?”

“Blake was there,” Adam growled. “And another girl, a pony faunus with hair like fire.”

“Sunset Shimmer,” the voice on the other end of the scroll whispered. “Is she still alive?”

“Blake?”

“Sunset.”

“They both are,” Adam admitted in a sour and snarling tone. “Before Torchwick could finish either of them, even more of their friends showed up: Blake’s new beau-” – how those words irked him to say, how he yearned to cut off that insolent boy’s hands to teach him the penalty for thievery and trespass. Blake’s alabaster skin was for Adam’s hands alone to touch; like a princess of old, she belonged to the king. There had been times when it had taken all of Adam’s self-restraint not to put out people’s eyes just for looking at her loveliness, the thought that another man might have laid his hands upon her… – “-and the Atlesian race traitor from the docks.”

“Sun Wukong and Rainbow Dash. That’s unfortunate. There’s not much that we can do about the two of them, but I think that Miss Belladonna has meddled in our affairs for long enough.”

“Blake is mine!” Adam snapped. “Her life is mine to take, if I choose. She does not belong to you; you cannot choose her fate.”

“Oh relax, Adam,” the voice on the other end of the scroll sounded rather weary now. “I’m not proposing to kill her, just get her out of our way.”

“How?”

“By having a good citizen expose the dastardly terrorist in our midst, obviously.”

Tukson had been taken to hospital – with an Atlesian guard detail – and a search of the surrounding areas had unfortunately revealed no trace of the getaway vehicle used by Adam and Torchwick.

And Rainbow Dash’s custom Skyray soared back to Beacon.

The interior of the airship was quiet; honestly – and for once – Rainbow was glad of that. She wasn’t in the mood to talk much right now.

Nobody seemed in the mood to talk much. Ciel never seemed in the mood, or at least, it might have been nicer to say that she was always in the mood for some quiet or could appreciate the value of it anyway.

Blake was in a mood. That was obvious from the way that she was glaring at Sun; judging by the look in her eyes, there wasn’t going to be much gratitude from her for saving her life. Rainbow couldn’t help but wonder if she really understood that she would have died without what he’d done or if she just didn’t care.

Sun was well aware that Blake was upset with him, and he was not quite meeting her eyes. Poor guy looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor.

As for Sunset… it was hard for Rainbow to say what Sunset was thinking. She was staring at the floor like she was trying to burn holes in it with laser eyes.

Is she thinking about the brand, too?

Rainbow couldn’t get her own mind off that brand. Those three letters burned into Adam’s skin. Sure, he was a terrorist wanted in all four kingdoms, but at the same time, he couldn’t have actually gotten branded then, could he? If he’d been caught at any point, he would have been handed over to the proper authorities, wouldn’t he?

Why did he get the brand at all?

Was it just because he was a faunus?

Rainbow looked down at her reflection in the blue screens that filled up the Skyray’s cockpit; for a moment, she saw nothing but her face, unusually stern, but then the next moment, she saw one side of her face ruined, one eye gone, her face branded with the letters “SDC.”

Rainbow winced and flinched away from it; thankfully, she didn’t disturb the airship, which continued on its present course.

“You don’t understand what it’s like down here, Dash! You spent so long up in the clouds, you think you’re one of them!”

Could that have been me? Is that what I would have become, if it weren’t for my friends?

If it weren’t for Twilight?

Nobody said anything as they passed through the clouds; the emerald lights that gleamed at the top of Beacon Tower shone like a lighthouse beacon to guide them home. Rainbow steered her airship around it. Since they couldn’t have one of Beacon’s skydocks permanently occupied by a single airship, Rainbow had gotten permission to land her ship behind the school, in the long expanse of open ground between the school and the cliffs. Rainbow landed there, setting the Skyray down gently on the grass.

Blake, her arms crossed, turned towards one of the side doors and waited for it to open.

It didn’t.

Rainbow took off her helmet and got up out of her seat. “We’re not quite done yet,” she said as she stood at the cockpit entrance, one elbow resting on her chair. Ciel remained seated, looking forward, not really a part of this conversation.

Blake glanced at Rainbow out of the corner of her eyes. “Do you need something?”

“A little gratitude might be nice,” Rainbow snapped. She bit her lip. “I mean-”

“Thanks,” Sunset said quietly, as her tail swished back and forth behind her. “If you hadn’t shown up… things could have been bad.”

“You don’t know that for-”

“Blake,” Sunset interrupted her. “Come on, just drop it, okay? Torchwick was about to blow your head off, and Adam… I’m still not on his level yet.”

Blake didn’t reply, although she did look down at her own feet, so maybe she got it and just didn’t want to admit it. Rainbow could understand that. It wasn’t always easy to admit that you were wrong. Sometimes, you just had to do it, but that didn’t actually make it easy.

“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why did you come after us?”

“Because I think you could help us if you could get that stick out of your rear end and accept our help,” Rainbow declared. “Because letting you die just because you don’t like Atlas doesn’t sit right with me.” She paused. “General Ironwood knows about this; he arranged to have backup on station, and he’s put guards on your friend in the hospital… but he isn’t going to tell Professor Ozpin what you two were up to tonight.”

“Wow, you’re really determined to put us in your debt, aren’t you?” Sunset said.

“You want to consider yourself in my debt, go ahead,” Rainbow grunted.

Sunset frowned. “And it really got to you, didn’t it?”

“What did?”

“The lack of inner-city parking,” Sunset snapped. “What do you think?”

Rainbow’s hands clenched into fists. So, they were going to talk about that. Of course they were going to talk about that. That was the main reason why Rainbow hadn’t opened the doors yet.

She kept her eyes on Blake. “You didn’t mention the brand on his face.”

“Should I have?” Blake asked.

“You wasted so much breath trying to convince me that Atlas was bad, and you didn’t once mention the fact that the SDC branded the face of someone you used to know?” Rainbow demanded.

“What would you have said if I had told you?” Blake replied.

“I…” Rainbow paused. “I might not have believed it without proof,” she admitted.

“And now?” Blake asked. “Now that you’ve seen it?”

Rainbow looked away, a scowl disfiguring her features. “The SDC isn’t Atlas,” she declared. “It certainly isn’t the military.”

“But it does wield power,” Blake said. “In Atlas more than anywhere else.”

“There’s no way that it can be legal,” Sunset said. “It isn’t legal to do that, not for corporations; not even the kingdoms themselves punish people that way.”

Blake laughed bitterly. “So what if it’s illegal? Do you think anybody is going to challenge the SDC on behalf of a few faunus?”

“Yes,” Rainbow said with an absolute certitude which she did not entirely feel. I hope so, anyway. She hesitated. “Do you know how he got it?”

Blake hesitated. “Adam’s past was a mystery, even to me. I knew that he had been branded; he showed it to me – on the clear understanding that I wouldn’t tell anyone else – but he never explained how he got it or… anything about himself before he joined the White Fang.” She paused. “Does it matter?”

“It might help work out where it’s happening,” Rainbow muttered.

“Who would do something like that?” Sun asked. “I mean… what’s the point?”

“It’s about power,” Blake growled. “Whoever did this… they did it because they can. They did it to show that they can.”

Rainbow frowned. Her ears twitched. “Whatever. I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind now about cooperating with us?”

“I hope so,” Sunset muttered.

“I… I’ll think about it,” Blake said softly.

“Blake!” Sunset groaned.

“If we had been just a second later-” Rainbow began.

“I said I’ll think about it, and I meant it!” Blake cut her off. “I’m not just saying that I’ll think about it so that I can come back later and tell you no. I… I admit that there is something to be gained-”

“You can take Atlesian help, or you can do this on your own,” Sunset declared. “I’m done.”

Blake whirled to look at her, her tangled black hair flying around her. “Sunset!”

“Torchwick had you!” Sunset snarled. “Just like Adam had me, bang to rights. We’re not Jaune’s comic book superheroes, Blake! We’re not going to save the world all by ourselves! Now you may not enjoy living, but I do!”

“Is that what you think this is about?” Blake cried. “Do you think that I’m trying to get myself killed?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“I’m trying to help!”

“You’re trying to make yourself feel better!”

“Maybe I am,” Blake admitted, her voice loud and high. Her breathing was ragged. “Maybe I am,” she repeated, quieter this time. “But I… I’ve done things that I need to make up for. That I have to; nobody else can atone for them on my behalf.”

“How do you balance your desire to do penance with the ill behalf from the inefficiency of your attempts to do so?” Ciel demanded. She got out of her seat and came to stand by Rainbow Dash. “Perhaps you should help us defeat the immediate threat and then worry about how you will square your past associations?”

Blake didn’t reply, and Rainbow took pity on her and opened the door to let her out. She didn’t thank Rainbow for that, any more than she had thanked Rainbow for rescue; she just leapt out and presumably started walking back to Beacon. Sun followed, calling her name.

Sunset lingered for a moment, both hands upon the handles of that ugly bike of hers. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Rainbow nodded stiffly. “Any time.”

“I hope not,” Sunset muttered. “That would be unbearable. I’d have to throw myself off the cliff.” She winced. She glanced at Rainbow and then looked away. Her ears flattened into her fiery hair. “Listen, Rainbow… don‘t sweat it, okay?”

Rainbow’s brow furrowed. “Sweat what?” she asked, although she could have guessed the answer already.

“What happened to that guy down some SDC mine,” Sunset said. She reached up and scratched the back of her head. “You’re still an incredibly lucky faunus,” she said.

Yeah, ain’t that the truth. “I know,” Rainbow said, a little defensively.

Sunset hesitated, but must have decided against saying anything else, because she took her bike and left, wheeling it out of the airship and out towards the garages.

Rainbow lingered in the Skyray. She walked out into the passenger section, one fist resting on the wall.

“Rainbow Dash,” Ciel murmured.

Rainbow looked over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Do not draw too many comparisons based on your race,” Ciel advised her. “While we have had our disagreements, and I sometimes find you a little heedless and headstrong… that does not change the fact that you are an honourable soldier of Atlas, a flower of the north as hardy as any… and more beautiful than most. You are not a terrorist.”

“No, I’m not,” Rainbow replied. But I might have ended up down a mine if things had gone a little differently. It wasn’t as though work had been abundant in Low Town. Rainbow might well have ended up, as so many did, heading for the nearest mine where they were always hiring new labourers.

And there… people might have taken a different view of ‘headstrong and heedless’.

“You go on ahead,” she told Ciel. “I’ll catch up.”

Ciel hesitated for a moment. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Rainbow replied. “I’m sure.”

“Very well,” Ciel said. Rainbow heard her footsteps upon the metal of the airship as she exited.

Rainbow was left alone, with her thoughts and the memory of that brand. The letters “SDC.”

“You’re just a token faunus to them!”

That’s not true. They’re my friends, they wouldn’t… they rescued me. If it wasn’t for them, I… I would…

I’d be just like him.

One of Rainbow’s eyes closed involuntarily, and for a moment, Rainbow thought that she couldn’t open it again: it was fused shut, burned shut; she was blinded there forever-

'Cause I love to make you smile, smile, smile,

Yes I do,

It fills my heart with sunshine all the while,

Yes it does,

Rainbow’s eye opened. She blinked rapidly and breathed in and out pretty rapidly too as her scroll continued to ring.

'Cause all I really need’s a smile, smile, smile,

From these happy friends of mine,

Rainbow pulled out her scroll with one trembling hand. She opened it up and answered it.

“Hey, Rainbow Dash!” Pinkie cried, her beaming image appearing on the screen.

“Hey, Pinkie,” Rainbow said softly. “You… you got me at just the right time.”

Pinkie’s smile became a little gentler, almost kind of sad. “Yeah, funny how that happens, huh?” She laughed nervously. “Listen, Rainbow Dash… you know that if you’re ever in any trouble, you can always talk to me, right? Whatever it takes to put a smile back on that face.”

Rainbow chuckled. “You’re doing a pretty good job already, Pinkie.”

“I’m glad,” Pinkie murmured. “I just… Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah?”

Pinkie blinked. “You know that we all love you, right? You’re a part of all of us.”

Rainbow stared down at her friend, her silly, cake-baking, party-planning friend. “I know, Pinkie.”

“Promise you won’t forget,” Pinkie said.

“I promise.”

“Do you Pinkie promise?”

Rainbow grinned. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She paused. “Hey, Pinkie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Pinkie made a squeaking sound as she smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“Blake!” Sun called, as he chased after her. “Blake, wait up!”

Blake ignored him. She strode purposefully across the grass towards Beacon. Towards her dorm, her bed, and a door that she could put between herself and Sun.

“Blake!” Sun yelled again. “Will you just listen to me?” He reached out and put one hand on her arm.

Blake used a clone to get away from him, the Blake he had laid a hand on disappearing in a puff of smoke before the real Blake appeared a couple of feet away from him.

“Go away, Sun!” she snapped. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Sun stared at her. “Well… you know… our dorms are kind of in the same general direction, so…”

Blake huffed and turned away from him again and resumed her stomping march back to school.

“I’m not going to apologise,” Sun called to her retreating back. “I know that what I did wasn’t what you wanted… but I’m not going to say sorry for caring about you.”

Blake stopped. “You say that you care about me, but you don’t care about my wishes,” she declared, glaring at him over her shoulder.

Sun’s expression was anguished, his mouth open, his eyebrows arching upwards as if they were trying to form a triangle. He held out his hands towards her. “I saw you leave,” he admitted, “with Sunset, on her bike. I thought… I was worried.”

“I could have handled it,” Blake insisted.

“No, you couldn’t!” Sunset shouted from behind Sun as she dragged her bike along the grass.

Blake rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want you anywhere near me tonight,” she told Sun, “and you should have respected that.”

“And I would, most of the time,” Sun replied defensively. “Like… if you wanted to go out with the girls and… do girls' night stuff, then I would absolutely stay away.”

Blake stared at him for a moment. “'Girls' night stuff'?”

“Neptune says that what goes on there is a mystery that only women should understand,” Sun informed her.

“Mm-hmm,” Blake murmured. “Regardless of Neptune’s opinion on lady’s night, you haven’t exactly been the best at staying away from me.”

“I… can get that,” Sun conceded. “But… look, I’m sorry. I’ve just never been with an amazing girl like you before – well, I’ve never really been with a girl before, but anyway – and you laughed when Sunset threw me across the café that one time, so I thought you enjoyed when I just showed up, and I did it because I wanted to make you happy, so if you don’t like it, then you should have said something, and I would have stopped. But this… this is different. When I saw you leave with Sunset, I thought that you might get in trouble, and… and I couldn’t just let you go on your own – or with just Sunset – like that. I had to try and help you. Because I care about you, and I’m not going to apologise for that, and… and you can’t ask me to stop. It’s not fair.”

“'It’s not fair'?” Blake repeated.

“Yeah,” Sun agreed. “Come on, who does that?”

Blake looked away from him. A sudden night breeze ran through the air, blowing her wild tangle of black hair into her face. Blake raised one hand to brush it aside. “What you did… it was very sweet,” she whispered, “but the fact remains that I didn’t want you anywhere near me tonight.”

“Why not?” Sun asked. “Why is it so bad to have people who care about you?”

“Because Adam will kill you!” Blake cried. “He’ll hunt you down in some dark place where there is no help, and then he’ll cut you down.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine!” Blake yelled. “You’re mine, and I’m yours where I used to be his, and he won’t… he won’t be able to abide that; he’ll… he’ll…” She sniffed, and as her vision blurred, she realised that she was crying.

“I should never have had anything to do with you,” she sobbed.

She felt a pair of strong arms enfolding her and a solid chest pressing against her own.

“Blake,” Sun whispered into her ear, “there’s still so much that I don’t know about you. It feels like I barely know you at all. But that’s fine. You don’t want to tell me, you want to keep your secrets, that’s your choice. But whether or not I stand by your side… that’s my choice.”

Blake closed her eyes and allowed herself to lean into his embrace. “Sun, I-”

“Hey, stop that,” Sunset snapped. “It’s bad enough having to watch Jaune and Pyrrha having more fun than me without having to put up with it from the two of you as well.”

Blake smiled and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand as Sun released her, and she retreated back a step. “Thank you, Sunset,” she said. “I… thank you, for coming with me.”

Sunset stared at her. “This is the part where I’m supposed to be gracious and say ‘any time’; but… no, that’s not happening. I know the arguments, and I know the things that you said to convince me that someone has to do something are just as valid as when you talked me into this… but we are not enough for this.”

Blake pursed her lips together. Sunset… uncomfortably, she had a point. They had barely held their own against Adam and Torchwick; how would they have fared against the White Fang as a whole? She felt foolish, quixotically so, and yet… the alternative of trusting General Ironwood and the Atlesian forces…

Rainbow and her team might be good people, but that didn’t mean that all of Atlas was as trustworthy as she was.

“What about your own headmaster?” Sun queried. “If you don’t want to tell that general, why not Professor Ozpin? He seems pretty cool.”

“No,” Sunset said immediately. “We are not telling Professor Ozpin anything.”

Blake blinked. “You don’t trust Professor Ozpin?”

“No, I don’t,” Sunset declared. “I think he manipulates people into doing what he wants. I think he arranged the whole fight at the docks where Ruby got hurt.”

“That… doesn’t make much sense.”

“He knew who you were,” Sunset reminded her. “He could have found out Rainbow’s history with the White Fang; he allowed them to come to Beacon anyway to arrange a confrontation that would lead us to the docks.”

“That… sounds like the kind of thing that should have a wall and some red string to go along with it,” Sun said apologetically.

It makes my fears about Atlas seem grounded, Blake thought. But at the same time, having been so stubborn with Sunset about Atlas, she could hardly deny Sunset any right to her own concerns, regardless of how frivolous they seemed to her. After all, it was clear that Sunset thought Blake’s concerns were pretty ridiculous.

“Okay,” she said. “No Professor Ozpin. As for Atlas… I meant what I said. I’ll think about it.”

Sunset slipped back into her dorm room as quietly as she could. It was pretty late; everyone else was probably-

"Sunset?"

Sunset stood still and silent for a moment. "Ruby?" She whispered. "You're still up?"

"We all are," Ruby said plaintively. "We waited up for you."

Sunset turned on the lights. They were all awake, just as Ruby had said, and they were all looking right at her.

"You didn't need to stay up," Sunset said. “I told Pyrrha that you didn’t need to stay up.” Sure, I told her sarcastically, but that was only because I didn’t think that she might actually do it.

Jaune groaned. "Now you tell us," he said, before he stifled a truly leonine yawn behind one hand.

The corners of Sunset's lips twitched upwards just a little. "I'm pretty sure that I told Pyrrha before I left, actually, but-"

"We were worried about you," Ruby cut her off. “We wanted to make sure that you got home safely.”

"Thanks, but you didn't need to do that either," Sunset said. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

Ruby got up off her bed. "Where did you go, Sunset?"

"I can't say."

"Why not? If you're in some kind of trouble, then maybe we can-"

"If I was in trouble, you guys would be the first to find out about it," Sunset replied. "Probably, maybe. Look, I'm not in any trouble myself, but a friend..." Sunset paused, debating with herself whether Blake's situation counted as her being in trouble or not. Or whether Blake was actually her friend or not. She felt a kind of kinship with the runaway princess, but that didn’t mean that she actually liked Blake; she was so self-righteous, and unlike Pyrrha and Ruby, she didn’t sugar it with any great degree of charm. "I'm helping… someone deal with some of her stuff, but I can't tell you any more than that because it's not my stuff. But... I've suggested that we might need a little more help so...you might find out what's going on pretty soon." Not, of course, because they would be getting involved, but Sunset was sure Team RSPT wouldn’t keep it to themselves. She wasn’t sure Penny had the ability to keep things to herself even if she wanted to.

"As much as we wouldn't want you to betray anyone’s trust," Pyrrha said carefully, "the fact that you might need our help isn't all that reassuring. It suggests that your secret might be a little dangerous."

"It is," Sunset conceded candidly. "So if you just don't want to know, now's the time to say so, and I won't involve you further."

"On the contrary, if you and your friend are putting yourselves in harm’s way, then the sooner you involve the rest of us, the better," Pyrrha countered.

"Yeah!" Ruby cried. "We're a team and that means that we oughtta stick together. So tell this friend of yours to hurry up and bring us in so we can whup butt! Isn't that right, Jaune? Jaune?"

Jaune snored, prompting Ruby to look fondly exasperated, while Pyrrha simply looked fond.

"I guess it is time for bed," Ruby said, a moment before she joined in the yawning herself.

"Will there be more late nights like this?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't know," Sunset admitted, "but I certainly hope not." She sat down on her bed, making no move to get undressed and change into her pyjamas. She just clasped her hands together and looked down at them. She wasn’t really looking; she was… she was thinking of that mark on Adam’s face.

Does Weiss know that’s what her family does?

Perhaps she and Flash are made for one another.

“Sunset?”

Sunset looked up to find Ruby staring at her from across the room.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asked anxiously. “Only, you seem… kind of not okay?”

Sunset’s gaze flickered between Ruby and Pyrrha, both of whom were looking back at her.

She wasn’t about to tell them about the brand. There was nothing they could do about it, and really… why should they know? Why should it disturb their lives of joy and happiness? Why should they be troubled by such things as this?

“I’m fine, Ruby, really,” Sunset assured her.

Although I might need to have a talk with Weiss about this.

Rainbow leaned on the sink. She reached down and held her hands underneath the tap, letting the water pool there before she splashed it on her face. She looked up and into the mirror.

For a moment, her face stared back at her. Then it was Adam’s face she saw looking back at her. Then her own face, but marred with that SDC brand.

It was a fate that could have been hers. It was a fate that, perhaps, she had deserved. She was just a faunus, after all, just a punk from Low Town underneath Atlas. She was just a thug with a talent for punching things. She didn’t deserve General Ironwood’s patronage, the friendship of Rarity, Applejack, Pinkie, Fluttershy; she didn’t deserve Twilight.

I’m so blessed.

“Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow looked around, to see Twilight standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in her light blue pyjamas with the little stars of white and pink upon them; she had her glasses on, but her hair was down, understandably. Rainbow thought it made her look cuter than when she bound it up.

Rainbow forced a smile onto her face. “Hey, Twi. Did I wake you?”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Twilight reassured her. “Are you okay?”

Rainbow hesitated for a moment, silently looking at her, then she crossed the bathroom in a couple of quick strides and wrapped her arms around Twilight, pressing the other girl close against her, resting her chin on the top of Twilight’s head.

“R-Rainbow Dash?” Twilight whispered in surprise.

Rainbow put one hand on Twilight’s head, stroking her hair gently. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Twilight was silent for a moment. “For what?”

“For saving me,” Rainbow replied. “Without you, I… I wouldn’t be me without you. You know I love you, right, Twi?”

Twilight put her arms around Rainbow’s waist. “You’re my best friend too, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow closed her eyes as a wry smile spread across her face. “I know,” she whispered as she kissed the top of Twilight’s head. “My light Twilight.”

Twilight giggled softly.

Rainbow let her go. “I have to step out for a second, okay?”

Twilight looked up at her, blinking. “Why?”

“I just need to make a quick call.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It’s kind of urgent,” Rainbow insisted, albeit quietly. “I just… trust me, okay Twilight?”

“Sure,” Twilight replied, nodding her head. “Always.”

Rainbow tiptoed through the dorm room where Ciel was asleep already – she had the ability to go out like a light whenever her head hit the sack and to go from slumber to one hundred percent in a split second; Rainbow was jealous – and Penny was in power-saving mode, her head bowed and her eyes flickering. She opened the door as quietly as she could and closed it just as quietly.

She leaned against the door, one hand going up to feel at her face. With her other hand – it trembled a little – she got out her scroll.

She opened it up and hesitated for a moment.

“So what if it’s illegal? Do you think anybody is going to challenge the SDC on behalf of a few faunus?”

She will. She’ll listen.

Rainbow called Cadance.

The scroll rang. And rang. And rang. It was the middle of the night – or the very early morning, rather – but Rainbow was still starting to get a little impatient by the time that Cadance’s face appeared on the screen. Her hair was a lot more dishevelled than Rainbow was used to seeing, and she had a pink silk nightgown on with a light blue sleep mask pushed up onto the top of her head. She blinked and frowned a little. “Rainbow Dash?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am,” Rainbow began.

Cadance blinked rapidly a few more times. “Is everything okay?” she asked anxiously. “Is Twilight-?”

“Twilight’s fine, ma’am, and so am I,” Rainbow assured her. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

Cadance’s eyes narrowed. “In the middle of the night.”

“I’m sorry, but yes,” Rainbow replied. “I… got into a fight with a member of the White Fang tonight.”

Cadance said nothing, waiting for Rainbow to continue.

“His face…” Rainbow hesitated, but then pressed on, knowing that she couldn’t keep Cadance waiting too long. “It had been branded, by the SDC.”

Cadance frowned. “'Branded'?”

“They’d burned the letters ‘SDC’ onto his face, ma’am,” Rainbow explained.

Cadance’s eyes widened. “My gods,” she murmured, her mouth forming an O.

“That’s… that’s not legal, is it?” Rainbow asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

“No, it most certainly is not,” Cadance declared, her voice hardening. “I don’t suppose you have any information about who this faunus was or where they were branded.”

“Uh… it was Adam Taurus, ma’am,” Rainbow admitted.

Cadance stared at her. “You fought Adam Taurus?” she demanded.

“Twilight was nowhere near the fight; she was-”

“I’m not worried about Twilight; I’m worried about you,” Cadance informed her.

“I can handle Adam Taurus, ma’am, even if he is wanted on three continents,” Rainbow declared. “Or at least, I thought I could, until…”

“No one would ever have allowed that to happen to you,” Cadance insisted, seeming to sense where she was coming from. “Not Twilight, not any of your friends, not me, either.”

“But if I’d never met Twilight…” Rainbow trailed off for a moment. “Is there something that you can do about this?”

“I don’t know,” Cadance admitted, “but I do know that I’m going to try my hardest. It won’t be easy without details, but I’ll find out what’s going on… starting in the morning.”

Rainbow smiled. “Yeah. Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure about this?” Rainbow asked. “It’s the SDC, and-”

“Fiat justitia, ruat caelum,” Cadance told her.

Rainbow frowned. “I don’t know what that means, ma’am.”

“'Let justice be done, though the heavens fall,'” Cadance translated. “The SDC doesn’t get to break the law just because it has money. Don’t worry, Rainbow Dash; I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Rainbow’s whole body sagged with relief. You see, Blake? This is what Atlas is all about. I told you that someone would do something. “Thank you, ma’am, this means a lot. And now I’ll let you get back to bed. Sorry for disturbing you.”

Cadance smiled. “It’s no trouble at all, Rainbow Dash. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.”

Classes resumed the next day. The timetable had changed a little since last semester – for example, to accommodate the new etiquette class that was mandatory for Atlesians and voluntary for everyone else – but the week still began with Grimm Studies with Professor Port.

The lecture theatre was a lot more crowded now than it had been during the first semester; all of what had seemed to be redundant space where the students could spread out as they liked was crammed with students from Haven, Atlas, and Shade Academies all sitting cheek by jowl with the Beacon students. Cinder, anchoring the left flank of her team CLEM just as Sunset held the right of Team SAPR, was pressed up against Sunset, their bodies squeezing together as though they were dance partners.

Cinder gave Sunset a smirking glance as the latter tried to find enough space to start writing her notes.

“To our Beacon students, welcome back to another semester!” Professor Port declared. “I hope you all found your vacation restful and recharging but remembered to stay vigilant against the creatures of grimm that infest our world! To all our guests from the other three academies, welcome! My name is Professor Port, and I will be taking over where your regular instructors left off in arming you against the many perils that infest the lands beyond the kingdoms. We are sitting in a fortress, but outside, it is growing dark, and one day, it will be up to you to spread the light and to defend it.” He paused for a moment. “Miss Shimmer, will you please come to the front of the class please?”

The classroom was silent. Sunset’s ears pricked up in surprise. Nevertheless, she stood up and – with Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ruby moving out for her – she was able to get out of the row of seats and make her way down the steps to the front of the classroom.

“Now,” Professor Port continued, “I understand that Team Sapphire had a little adventure during their vacation.”

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Sunset smiled. “Yes, sir, we fought a karkadann just outside of Mistral.” She glanced at Cinder. “Alongside Cinder Fall of Team Clementine of Haven.”

“A karkadann,” Professor Port said, his voice swelling with admiration. “Very impressive, Miss Shimmer. Well, since your team has been on an independent hunt, why don’t you tell the rest of the class, then we can discuss it while I, with the benefit of my experience, guide you on how to approach such a savage beast should you encounter one again.” Professor Port took a step back. “The floor is yours, Miss Shimmer.”

Sunset liked to think that Professor Port had summoned her, rather than Ruby, Jaune, or Pyrrha, not only because she was the team leader but also because she was the one least likely to suffer from stage fright. In fact, she didn’t suffer from it at all. The eyes of the entire class were upon her, and she was troubled by it not at all.

It was rather thrilling, to be honest.

One semester down, and we’re already building a reputation.

By our second year, we’ll be like Team CFVY but twice as huge. Everyone is going to be looking up to us.

Sunset cleared her throat. “We were dropped off by an airship at the sight of the most recent attack by the grimm, the identity of which we did not yet know-”

“Hey,” one of the Haven students – a girl with dusky skin and an untidy mane of pale hair – interrupted.

“Please raise your hand to ask a question, Miss-“

“Altan, Arslan Altan, Professor,” Arslan said. She raised her hand.

Professor Port nodded. “Go ahead, Miss Altan.”

Arslan’s face was disfigured by a frown. “Why was your team given the job of hunting down this grimm?” she demanded. “Was it because you had Pyrrha Nikos on your team?”

Sunset chewed on her lip. “Pyrrha… was asked to take on the job,” she admitted, through gritted teeth. “The rest of the team decided to accompany her because we are her team, and we weren’t about to let her fight some dangerous grimm on her own.”

“Of course not,” Professor Port agreed. “Any other decision would have been thoroughly unworthy of Beacon students.”

Sun’s blue-haired teammate Neptune raised his hand. “Uh, I’m sure it would, Professor, but I think what Arslan was trying to ask was why students were given this assignment? Shouldn’t this sort of thing have been handled by a pro huntsman?”

“There weren’t any,” Sunset replied. “In the whole city, there was only my team, and Cinder.”

“There was me,” Arslan declared. “I was in Mistral during the vacation, and nobody asked me to hunt down any grimm.”

“Well, you’re not Pyrrha Nikos, are you?” Sunset asked, ignoring the frantic but frankly indecipherable signals that Pyrrha was making as she waved her hands up and down to Sunset. Was she telling Sunset to calm down? Sunset was just having some fun.

Pyrrha put her head in her hands as Arslan made a rumbling noise in the bottom of her throat as though she was trying to avoid venting her spleen.

“It seems to me that this discussion is not germane to the class at hand,” Professor Port declared. “Please, Miss Shimmer, continue.”

Sunset smirked at Arslan, then resumed. “We arrived at the scene of the attack and-”

She was interrupted again, this time by the doors into the classroom opening.

A dozen people strode in, led by a horse faunus woman with long brown hair and a tail to match, dressed in a dark blue pantsuit and a white blouse. She was followed by a rather grave-looking Professor Ozpin, a rough-and-ready looking fellow with stubble on his cheeks and a halberd in his hands who was almost certainly a licensed huntsman, and perhaps a dozen officers of the VPD in full tactical loadout, their faces hidden behind their helmets and masks.

“Professor Ozpin?” Professor Port asked. “What is going on here?”

“Good morning, Professor. My name is Lieutenant Martinez,” the woman in the pantsuit announced in a broad accent replete with elongated vowels, “and I have a warrant for the arrest of Blake Belladonna; I’m told she’s in this class.”

They know. I don’t know how, but they know. Someone tipped off the authorities.

“Miss Belladonna?” Professor Port repeated. “On what charge?”

Sunset's scroll buzzed. So did everyone else's scroll in the classroom. Sunset answered, for all that she was standing in front of a cop, the headmaster, and a class full of students. Everybody looked at their scrolls. They all wanted to see what was so important that they’d all gotten pinged at once.

It was a video, a video showing footage of Blake robbing a train in the Forever Fall forest, destroying Atlesian security droids alongside… Sunset's chest seemed to constrict around her lungs as she saw who Blake was fighting alongside in this video.

Adam Taurus.

'What kind of monster have you been living with these past months?' asked the video as more footage flashed up.

“On charges of terrorism, destruction of property, and membership in an illegal organisation,” Lieutenant Martinez said, clearly annoyed at the interruption and nature thereof, “namely, the White Fang.”

Author's Note

I thought at first about Cinder just letting Lightning Dust have her shot at killing Blake in the ring, but that struck me as very risky, even for Cinder, and I thought it might be more interesting to have the villains reveal Blake's secret to the whole school and the authorities instead.

Rewrite Notes: A few changes to this chapter, with Rainbow's reaction to the sight of Adam's brand being the biggest one, and with a more minor change being the move of setting from combat class to Grimm Studies.

The Warriors in the Woods (New)

The Warriors in the Woods

The beowolf snuffled as it crept along the ground, its snout pressed to the forest floor.

Sunset’s hand closed around the hilt of Soteria.

The beowolf raised its head, tentatively sniffing the air.

Sunset sprang out of hiding behind the tree that she had been using for cover, charging towards the grimm with a great shout that startled birds from the trees around them.

The beowolf’s head jerked up, a growl forming in its bony mouth.

A growl that was cut short as Sunset sliced off the grimm’s head with a single stroke of her black blade.

She exhaled through her teeth, grimacing as the deceased monster began to turn to ash before her eyes.

It wasn’t who or what she wanted to kill, but it was better than nothing.

She might have been banned from attending any classes, but there was no rule that said she couldn’t creep – or teleport – down into the Emerald Forest to get a piece of the action.

Actually, there was a rule, but with all of the teachers, you know, teaching, there shouldn’t be anyone to actually catch her in the act.

And nobody even knew to look for her.

Although when she phrased it like that, it started to sound a little stupid to have come down here without telling Ruby or Pyrrha where she was going. But on the other hand, if she’d told them where she was going, then they would have tried to talk her out of it, and Sunset was in no mood to be dissuaded right now.

She needed to keep training. She needed to get stronger.

She needed to kick some ass and kill some monsters.

Monsters like the beowolves she could hear drawing near, their growls and howls growing louder. Perhaps they were all psychically linked and could sense the death of their scout.

Or perhaps they could smell her.

It didn’t really matter, the same way it didn’t really matter how many of them there were. One or twenty or two hundred, she’d take them on.

Soteria was in her hand, but Sol Invictus was slung across her back with the chambers unloaded to discourage her from using it. That was part of the rule that she had set herself when she came down here. Shooting Adam didn’t get you anywhere – she had ample proof of that by now – so she wouldn’t shoot; at the last resort, she would use her bayonet or just club grimm with the stock, but she wouldn’t shoot. She would use her sword and her magic and her brain, and hopefully, while she was slaughtering the grimm, she would come up with a way of getting Adam too.

A way that didn’t involve getting herself stabbed a second time.

Unconsciously, Sunset’s hand – her scarred hand, scabbed and marked from where she had caught his blade – drifted to her stomach, above the wound that he had dealt her. He had left her a mark there too. Jaune's aura had been too ragged from that impressive stunt with Pyrrha and the train to heal her so completely that she was beyond scars.

She would carry the marks of Adam’s esteem for the rest of her days. There was a hole in her cuirass too, where his blade had penetrated her armour, but she didn’t mean to get it repaired until she’d killed him.

The howling of the beowolves drew closer, ever closer; they were so close now that the undergrowth was rustling as they drew near, the bushes waving as though a sudden wind were blowing through the forest.

Sunset turned side on to face the approaching creatures of the dark, thrusting out her scarred hand towards them; the scars were obscured by the green glow of magic that gathered above her palm.

A score of magical spears, each as long as Pyrrha’s Miló and tapering to a sharp point, appeared in ranks like an honour guard in front of Sunset, points slightly downwards.

Adam was fast, sure, but he couldn’t point that sword in every which way at once; so long as she forced him to take one blow – a blow from the front – then she could hit him from the sides and rear, just like she was prepping for the grimm right now.

Mind you, Adam wasn’t likely to give her such time to prep.

The beowolves burst out of the thicket, their eyes blazing, their masks pale as they bared their teeth at Sunset, opening their mouths to let loose a roar that still had the power to make Sunset shiver.

No matter how good she got at killing these things, they would always be able to unnerve her a little.

Because no matter how good she got at killing these things, she would only ever be one mistake away.

And as much as I’d love to say I never make mistakes…

The beowolves charged out of the bushes and straight into the killing ground that Sunset had prepared for them.

A pulse of magic burst from Sunset’s hand. The alpha beowolf, towering above his subordinates, raised forearms covered in plates of bone thicker than the toughest armour, crossing them before his face to take the blow.

And as he did, Sunset unleashed her spears of magic which fell like rain upon him and the rest of his pack.

The roaring and the howling of the beowolves were turned to cries of pain as the magical missiles burst upon and amongst them in a shower of explosions. The dust from the blast choked the air, obscuring the beowolves – the surviving beowolves – from view, but Sunset didn’t wait for the chance to observe the results of her handiwork. She was too static when she fought; she stood in one place far too much. She needed to be more like Rainbow Dash, more like Blake; she needed to be moving all the time, especially against someone like Adam.

She ran to the left, and with her free hand, she shot small blasts of magic from her fingertips into the dust cloud; against Adam, she probably wouldn’t take the risk, but she ought to be okay against beowolves.

And she was rewarded by a howl of pain, so that was worth it.

The first beowolves began to emerge from out of the smoke, leaping out of the cover that Sunset had provided them to fall upon where Sunset had been just a moment before. Two pulses of magic leapt from Sunset’s palm in quick succession to strike them down.

Sunset kept moving. She ran forwards now, leaping over a knot of tangled tree roots as she tried to create more magical spears, in a ring now, surrounding the location of the pack. She had to be able to do it quickly, to do it on the fly; it was the only way that she could hope for it to be of any use in battle.

The smoke and dust began to clear, beginning to reveal the beowolves huddled together, facing in all directions, seeming to be themselves waiting to see where she was now.

Sunset wasn’t going to give them the chance to react. She unleashed her spears, though they were only half formed, and as they fell, she formed some more, pushing her magic to conjure up the missiles and hurl them like thunderbolts from heaven down upon ground and grimm alike. They were incomplete, they were underpowered, but that didn’t matter; if she kept them coming from all sides, then she’d wear him down for sure.

And so, she cast her spears and supplemented them with blasts of magic from the palm of her hand for good measure, and as weak as they were, they were nevertheless numerous enough that they tore apart the surviving grimm until only the alpha remained.

He alone withstood the storm, being so old and so well-armoured by his bony plates and sharp spines that he withstood the assaults of Sunset’s magic; at least, they didn’t kill him, although they seemed to be hurting him.

Sunset teleported, appearing behind the alpha and level with his neck, hovering in mid-air for a moment as she drew back Soteria for the coup de grâce.

The alpha stretched out one hand to grab her by the neck, turning its bleached bone head to roar into her face.

Blake burst out of cover, crossing the clearing in a blur of motion; her wild black hair flew out behind her as she ran, shots snapping from Gambol Shroud’s pistol configuration to slam into the alpha’s flank. The beowolf roared, and as Blake closed the distance between them, it swiped at her with a paw almost as large as she was. The stroke connected, and Blake’s clone dissipated like smoke as the real Blake appeared above, her ribbon swirling around her as she descended, spinning in mid-air, to slice through the alpha’s paw with blade and cleaver alike.

She didn’t give the grimm time to howl in pain before she leapt up, jumping off the remainder of the alpha’s arm to cut off its head in a single stroke of her cleaver scabbard.

Sunset managed to land on her feet as the dissolving grimm relaxed its grip around her neck. “Blake? What are you doing here?”

Blake landed nimbly in front of her, her blade and cleaver held loosely in each hand. “You’re welcome,” she observed dryly.

“I didn’t ask for your help; I asked what you were doing here,” Sunset snapped.

Blake stared at her, her golden eyes flat. “You’re still welcome,” she observed.

“I’m still not going to ask,” Sunset muttered. “If I can’t beat a pack of beowolves how am I supposed to…?”

“Supposed to what?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sunset growled, turning away from Blake as her ears flattened on top of her head. She was more annoyed at herself than at Blake, but she couldn’t very well snap and shout and growl at herself, could she?

Blake’s voice was grim and lost all hint of humour. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Sunset said nothing. Her chest rose and fell beneath her cuirass, and her scarred hand twitched, her fingers starting to clench into a fist as the memory of that red sword, of a world turned red as blood and black as nothingness, flashed before her eyes.

“So the answer to your question,” Blake went on, “is the same as you. Since we can’t go to class, I came here: the best place to get in some training.”

“Why?” Sunset asked.

Blake’s eyes narrowed. She cocked her head very slightly to one side. “Didn’t I just tell you that?”

“You’re here because you’re not strong enough to beat him yet,” Sunset said flatly.

“Exactly-” Blake began.

“So?” Sunset demanded. “Just let Rainbow Dash take care of it.”

Now it was the turn of Blake’s ears to flatten against the top of her head, disappearing in the midst of her wild tangle of black hair. “This isn’t Rainbow Dash’s fight; it’s mine!”

“No, Adam is mine,” Sunset snarled into her face. “Mine to kill, mine to avenge myself and Ruby on.”

Blake was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer now, tender and imploring. “Sunset, don’t,” she said, and her voice cracked. “Please don’t.” She shook her head. “Revenge… it’s a poison. What do you think made Adam the way he is? Do you think that brand on his face made no difference to him at all?”

“I don’t care what made him the way he is,” Sunset growled.

“Then what do you care about?”

“I care about the fact that he beat me!” Sunset roared, turning from Blake once more to exclaim it upwards into the sky. “I care about the fact that he nearly killed Ruby; I care about the fact that he nearly killed me, and both times, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it!” She paused for breath. “I care about the fact that I took a hit from him so that I could get hit on him in turn, but he walked away from my best shot, while I ended seconds away from death! I care about the fact that Ruby was seconds away from death. I care about the fact that he scared the crap out of me, and even when I wasn’t scared, it didn’t make any difference!” Spittle flew from her mouth. “That’s why I have to kill him. That’s why… I have to prove that I’m stronger than he is.”

“You sound like him when you talk like that,” Blake whispered.

“Do I?” Sunset grunted. Her tail swept back and forth as she shuffled her feet, crushing the grass beneath her boots. “Maybe that’s why I have to kill him,” she said softly.

“It won’t kill that part of yourself,” Blake replied, her voice trembling. “Giving into it… will only make it stronger.”

“Can you deny that he deserves to die?” Sunset asked.

“It always starts with someone who deserves to die,” Blake said. “It starts with a monster, and everybody cheers, and then-”

“Oh, don’t start with the slippery slope fallacy; we’re both smarter than that,” Sunset snapped. “Just because I put down a rabid dog doesn’t mean that I’m going to become a serial killer.”

“If you’re so sure of that, then why do you feel like you have to kill Adam?” Blake demanded. “If you’re so sure, then why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Sunset snapped.

“No, you’re afraid of yourself,” Blake declared.

Sunset was silent for a moment, her breathing heavy. She looked at Blake. “What would you have me do?” she asked. “Should he be allowed to roam free? Should I trust that everyone will be as lucky as me or Ruby?”

“Of course not; it’s not a binary choice between you staining your hands or…” Blake trailed off. “I…”

“Want it for yourself?”

“No!” Blake exclaimed. “That… Adam’s life is… the last thing I want. But I was there. I was one of those who cheered him on when he struck down monsters. I was one of those who called him the Sword of our people, our Lord of Battles. I was beside him when we knelt at the feet of Sienna Khan and learned from her what it was to fight and lead and rouse others to follow us into the fight. Adam… Adam is my responsibility.”

“Just because you and he were… he hasn’t tried to kill your… he hasn’t tried to kill you.”

“I think he has, actually,” Blake pointed out.

Sunset waved her hand dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Blake said. “I don’t.” She glanced down at her feet. “You’re not the only one he made to feel powerless.”

Sunset was silent for a moment, taking in the sickening implications of what Blake had just said. “I thought you said-”

“I said the world had made him cruel,” Blake pointed out. “I never said that his cruelty had only been directed out towards the world.”

Sunset’s mouth hung open for a moment. She… she had no idea what to say. It was too far beyond her frame of reference, too far from her experience. She had no idea what to say, and hence, she said nothing.

Blake’s head was bowed. “You’re a kind person, Sunset,” she murmured. “I think so, anyway. I… I’d rather that you didn’t prove me wrong, like he did.”

“I’d rather not prove you wrong either,” Sunset replied. “But if I don’t do this… if I can’t beat him, if I hide from him, if I… what are you doing out here?”

Blake looked up at her. “Well, I was out here looking to train.”

“Exactly, because you don’t think that this fight is over,” Sunset said.

“Of course it’s not over!” Blake cried. “Just because Torchwick’s in jail... Adam’s still out there-”

“And there’s a good chance we’ll have to face him again,” Sunset finished, quietly but sharply. “Which, being the case, I think that I should prepare to face him. If I don’t… what else should I do? Hide from him? Leave it to Pyrrha?”

“You advise me to leave it to Rainbow Dash,” Blake pointed.

“Rainbow’s the team leader; it’s her job to be out in front.”

“Technically, it’s a team leader’s job to give the directions,” Rainbow broke in, as she descended towards them from out of the sky, the jets of her wingpack burning with a soft hum as they lowered her at a steady rate down to the ground. She kept her metal wings unfurled, spread out on either side of her so that they were nearly touching the trees on either side as the tips of her toes touched the ground. “I just stay out in front because I’m the toughest on my team, not counting the… we’ll talk about that later,” she said. “The point is: you are both idiots.”

Sunset scoffed. “That’s a bit rich coming from you, don’t you think?”

“I may not have read as many books as you, but I knew better than to come down into the Emerald Forest by myself,” Rainbow pointed out.

“I don’t see Ciel or Penny or Twilight with you,” Sunset replied.

“Twilight’s up on the clifftop, and you know what I meant, smartass,” Rainbow said. “I talked to Pyrrha, Ruby, and Jaune, and none of them knew where you were. Either of you.”

Sunset winced, while Blake asked, “Then how did you find us?”

“I had a hunch,” Rainbow replied. “So, you both came out here to kill grimm.”

“It’s the next best thing to fighting men,” Sunset said stubbornly.

“It’s a quick way to burn yourself out,” Rainbow insisted. “You got a week off for a reason.”

“I got a week off because I almost died!” Sunset snarled. “I got a week off because I was weak! I got a week off because-”

“Because you’re in this kind of mood,” Rainbow remarked.

“Shut up,” Sunset snapped. “You… you wouldn’t understand.” She turned away, swinging her sword in the air. “General Ironwood’s protégé, private lessons, access to all the latest fancy toys straight from the lab, you’ve never had to worry that you weren’t strong enough-”

“I worry all the damn time that I’m not strong enough!” Rainbow shouted. Her voice dropped as her wings folded up onto her back. “That never goes away; no matter how strong you get, you’ll always worry that it’s not enough. I have so much to protect and just two hands to do it with, and I… I get it.”

“Get what?” Sunset demanded.

“Why you want Adam Taurus so badly,” Rainbow answered.

“I thought you said we were idiots for that?” Blake reminded her.

“You’re idiots for coming out here like this without telling anyone,” Rainbow said. “You’re idiots for not taking the rest that you need. But I get it. I get you, anyway.” She nodded her head towards Sunset.

“She’s afraid of him,” Blake said.

“I’m not afraid. I took a hit from him-”

“That doesn’t mean that he stopped scaring you.”

“You’ll see-”

“It’s not that fear,” Rainbow said. “Well, I guess it could be, a little, but that’s not why you want him, is it?” she asked. “It’s not why I want him.”

Sunset shook her head. “You’re nothing like me, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow was silent for a moment. “Twilight told me once that, deep in the depths of the ocean, there are these fish, these really ugly fish. They live in the dark, you see, they… they never see the sun because the light doesn’t go down that far. They swim around in the dark, and they’ve got no eyes, and they’re just the ugliest things that you’ve ever seen in your life. But, maybe… do you think that it’s possible that if one of those fish could fly, could swim I mean, up out of the darkness, if it could feel the light on its face, if it could see the sun, do you think that, do you think it’s possible that one of those ugly little monsters could become something beautiful?”

“No,” Blake said flatly.

Rainbow’s eyebrows rose. “Thanks for that,” she muttered.

“People don’t change, not like that,” Blake declared. “I used to think that… when Adam started to become… I thought that I could save him. I thought that it was my job to save him. I thought that… I thought that the love of a purehearted maiden could turn the beast into a handsome prince. I thought that if I was kind and gentle and patient, then I could gentle his fierce temper. I thought that-”

“Are you going to list off every romance cliché or just your favourites?” Sunset asked.

Blake scowled… before the briefest hint of a smile crossed her face. “I admit, I wasn’t without influences in that regard,” she admitted. “But my point is that it was all lies, all of it nonsense, all of it… I let him… I endured because I thought that I was supposed to endure; I thought that by enduring, I would… reach him, somehow. I thought that it was my fault that I wasn’t changing him. But the truth is that people don’t change, not like that. Adam was changed by the world that he lived in, and the love of one stupid girl wasn’t enough to overcome that. That’s not how life or people work.”

“I disagree,” Sunset said. “And I guess that Rainbow does too, or she wouldn’t have brought it up, although I’m not sure why she bothered.”

“You’ve only known me after I swam up towards the light,” Rainbow told her. “Before I met Twilight-“

“You’re not Adam,” Blake said. “Neither of you are.”

“But we could have been,” Rainbow said, quietly and with surprising – Sunset was surprised, at least – earnestness, “if the dice had fallen a different way. If we hadn’t met the right people. If we hadn’t met the right people.” She glanced at Sunset. “The truth is that I always expected you to join the White Fang.”

“Oh, really?”

“Why not?” Rainbow asked. “You’re strong, arrogant, you have a chip on your shoulder-”

“Yes, thank you, I wasn’t actually looking for a list,” Sunset said quickly before she could go on. “Besides, strong and arrogant describes every top Atlas student, including you.”

“But I don’t have a chip on my shoulder to go along with it,” Rainbow said.

“Neither do I, now,” Sunset said firmly, and almost sincerely.

“Now,” Rainbow repeated.

“Now,” Blake said, her tone dull and dispirited. “Now that you’ve met Ruby and Pyrrha and…”

Sunset frowned. “Blake?”

Blake’s golden eyes flickered between the two of them. “Do you really think that you could have become like him?”

“My best friend from when I was growing up is in the White Fang,” Rainbow admitted. “I found that out during the attack on the train. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, but I fight for Atlas, and she fights to bring it down. It all comes down to… luck. And the fact that I was rescued. That we were rescued.”

“Then why couldn’t I rescue Adam?” Blake demanded, her voice cracking. “If one person is really all it takes, if love and compassion are enough to pull someone out of the darkness, then why couldn’t I reach his heart? If Twilight and Ruby can do so much, then why am I so-?”

“You’re not,” Sunset said.

“I couldn’t save him no matter how much I tried-”

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Blake cried, her whole body trembling. “How is it not my fault? Whose fault is it? Why… why wasn’t I… why?”

“Because he was too far gone?” Sunset suggested. “Because he didn’t want to be saved? I don’t know, but what I do know is that it isn’t your fault.”

Blake looked into Sunset’s eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because the wisest, noblest, most compassionate person I’ve ever known tried to change me once, and they couldn’t manage it,” Sunset revealed. “But Ruby could. Sometimes… that’s just how it goes. Sometimes, things just happen, and you can’t explain them, and you can’t blame yourself for them.” She ventured the slightest trace of a smile. “Although, of course, you will, because that’s the kind of person you are.”

Blake didn’t appear to find that amusing, but at the same time at least, she didn’t seem to be taking offence at it either.

“We all want that guy gone,” Rainbow declared. “We all want him out of the way. We all want to prove that… that we’re better than he is, that the path we’ve chosen is better than the one he’s walking down. And we will get him, together.” She put one hand on Sunset’s shoulder and another hand on Blake. “But not if you wear yourselves out or work yourselves into a frenzy when there’s nobody even around.”

Sunset glanced at her. “So what are we supposed to do instead? Sit around doing nothing?”

“Relax, yeah, for a little while,” Rainbow declared. “Why don’t you come into Vale with me and Twilight? She wants to go book shopping, so you’ll enjoy it more than I will.”

That was a little tempting, somewhat more tempting than sticking around here and looking for more grimm.

And… as much as Sunset might not like to admit it, Rainbow Dash made a good point.

It was always annoying when that happened.

“Together?” she asked.

“Together,” Rainbow repeated.

Blake hesitated, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “Together,” said, more quietly than the other two, and more slowly, but she said it nonetheless.

Rainbow nodded. “Great,” she said. “Now, let’s-”

She was cut off, or at least interrupted, by the sound of something growling close by.

Rainbow sighed. “Of course, you two have drawn in the grimm.”

“Us?” Sunset squawked. “What about you, Miss Ugly Fish?”

“Why don’t we leave the question of whose fault it was?” Blake suggested. “Unless we want to attract even more grimm?”

“Good point,” Rainbow said, pulling her submachine guns out of her holsters. The three of them stood back to back as the beowolves began to slink out of the bushes. “Okay, people, time to go to work.”

Under the Shade of the Trees (New)

Under the Shade of the Trees

Jaune sat under one of the trees that grew just beyond the main courtyard, down the path that led towards the docking pads, and strummed lightly upon his guitar. The trees were broad-leaved, and at this time, with summer approaching and the days getting longer, they were engulfed with green which offered shade from the sun. And so he sat, his back resting upon the uneven bark of the tree trunk, and rested his guitar upon his knees as he plucked lightly at the strings.

A slight frown creased his brow. He didn’t really hear the sounds that he was producing with the instrument; his fingers were moving on instinct. He wasn’t playing anything; he was just making noise.

Making noise while his thoughts whirled.

“Jaune?”

Jaune’s fingers stopped moving, the soft strumming sounds of his guitar quietening as he looked up to see that Pyrrha had stolen up on him without him knowing… or perhaps he had simply been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard her approach, though she moved with all the volume of an Atlesian regiment on the march. Either way, she stood over him now, her shadow joining the shadows of the leaves in falling upon him. She stood just beyond the shade of the tree, so that the sunlight gleamed upon her gilded armour, while her red sash and ponytail almost as red both waved slightly in the gentle breeze.

“Pyrrha,” Jaune murmured. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Pyrrha replied, a slight and slightly concerned smile upon her face. “May I join you?”

“Sure,” Jaune said. “Of course.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Pyrrha assured him “If you’d rather be alone, then I can go-”

“It’s fine,” Jaune replied. “I’d love to have you here.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, her voice barely audible as she sat down beside him, tucking her sash beneath her as a kind of blanket for her skirt. The distance between them was small, but at the same time, it seemed to be much greater. What he had done, the fact that Pyrrha couldn’t help him with it, it was like it had put up a pane of glass between the two of them, so that they could hear one another, see each other, but not touch each other in any way.

And not speak to one another either, judging by the silence that stretched out between the two of them.

“You play very well,” Pyrrha said, after a short time had passed without anything passing between them.

Jaune looked away from her. “I wasn’t really playing,” he said.

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “But on the train… you play very well.”

“Thanks.”

“When did you learn how to play? Back home?”

Jaune nodded. “My sister Kendal taught me.” Thinking about Kendal made him feel guilty, although not as guilty as thinking about some of his other sisters would have done; Kendal hadn’t been home when he left, so it didn’t feel as though he’d snuck out on her the way that he’d snuck out on the rest of the family; the difference might be kind of thin, but it mattered to him, if only because it lessened the weight just a little tiny bit. “We didn’t have a TV at home, so we had to make our own entertainment.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“Really,” Jaune replied. “How do you think I manage to make it so far without knowing about aura, or the Vytal Festival, or… anything?”

“I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it,” Pyrrha said softly. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t know if I could say; we just didn’t, and I don’t know anyone who did,” Jaune explained. “The bookstore was the only real contact we had with the wider world; well, that and the rail line and that was mainly for loading produce on to sell to Vale. I guess I really was a hayseed with no clue what the rest of the world was like.”

Pyrrha didn’t reply to that. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure what she could have said. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it like that. What did he want her to say? Did he want her to say anything? Why had he said that he’d like her to sit with him if he was just going to leave her speechless?

He wanted her here; he didn’t want Pyrrha to go. But he didn’t know what he ought to say to her. He didn’t know how to break the glass between them.

Pyrrha reached out for him, but stopped short of laying a hand upon his shoulder. Rather, she drew back her hand again and, with both hands, gripped the scarlet sash around her waist. She looked down at her hands, and then away towards the docking pad. “How… how are you?”

“I’m okay,” Jaune said reflexively, drawing a look from Pyrrha. “Okay, that’s not really accurate,” he conceded. “But I… I went to see Professor Goodwitch yesterday.”

“Oh,” Pyrrha said, her voice so soft, he couldn’t really tell what she thought about it. “I… I’m glad,” she whispered. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Rainbow Dash convinced me that I couldn’t be… macho about it,” Jaune said. “That I needed to do what was best for me, instead of worrying about how it looked.”

“I see,” Pyrrha sighed. “Rainbow Dash.” She fell silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jaune.”

Jaune blinked in surprise. “You’re sorry? For what?”

“I don’t know!” Pyrrha confessed, her voice rising. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or what I’m doing wrong. I just know that I’m your girlfriend, and I love you, but I can’t help you! Sunset can see what it is you need, Blake can reach you after what happened to you, Rainbow Dash can make you see that you need help, but I can’t help you at all, and I don’t know why except that I… I must be a terrible girlfriend, a terrible friend. I’m sorry.”

Jaune stared at her, his blue eyes wide. “Pyrrha… that’s not your fault.”

“It certainly isn’t your fault!” Pyrrha declared. “You’ve been in such pain, and I haven’t been able to do a thing about it!”

“I know,” Jaune said, using a gentle tone to try and assuage some of the bluntness of his words. “But that still doesn’t make it your fault. You’re a great friend, and there’s nobody that I’d rather try the boyfriend-girlfriend thing with than you, even if we haven’t really gotten the chance to try it yet. And I think… I think that might be why you can’t help me with this.”

Pyrrha looked up at him, confusion in her beautiful emerald eyes. “I… don’t understand.”

“Blake and I aren’t friends, not really,” Jaune explained. “We hang around sometimes, but I don’t really know her, and she doesn’t know me either. The same goes for Rainbow Dash; I know her, and she’s okay, but we’re not close. And so they can talk to me the way that you can’t, or even Ruby. Rainbow can talk to me in ways that she could never talk to Twilight because she’s too close to her, the way that you and I are. If you want to know why you couldn’t reach me but they could, I think that’s the best answer as to why: because they don’t know me like you do. Because… because they don’t care about my feelings the way you do.”

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. “Are you… are you saying that I’m… too nice to you?”

“I’m saying… I’m saying that you always want to take care of me,” Jaune said. “But sometimes, you can’t help someone by taking care of them, if that makes any sense.”

“I’ve tried not to smother you,” Pyrrha protested. “To let you fight your own battles, when I thought that you could… that doesn’t sound very good, does it?”

“I know what you mean,” Jaune assured her.

“You can’t expect me to simply stand by when I think – when I know – that it’s a fight you can’t win,” Pyrrha told him. “You can’t expect me not to go to your aid. You can’t expect me to watch you die or be hurt in the name of letting you try your strength.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then, please… I’m afraid you’ll have to explain to me what you are saying, because I don’t understand,” Pyrrha implored. “I care about you; is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not,” Jaune said. “I care about you too, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Then what are you saying?” Pyrrha asked.

Jaune stared into her vivid green eyes. “I’m saying… I’m saying that you don’t have to feel as though you can help me with all of my problems,” he told her. “Sometimes, other people can help me more than you can, and it doesn’t make you a bad girlfriend… any more than it makes me a bad boyfriend that Sunset can help you with your problems more than I can. At least, I hope it doesn’t.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “You think Sunset helps me with my problems more than you do?”

“I mean, she seems to get your mother more than I do.”

“That’s true,” Pyrrha muttered. “But that means that she takes my mother’s side more than I perhaps might like. Sunset… Sunset gets my mother, but you get me.”

The corner of Jaune’s lip twitched upwards. “I try my best.”

“Your best is very good,” Pyrrha told him. She smiled, but only briefly before it faded from her face. “I’m still sorry that I haven’t been able to help you when you needed help.”

“It hasn’t happened to you,”

“Yet,” Pyrrha said, softly and with a hint of melancholy in her voice.

Jaune was silent for a moment. “You think it will.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Pyrrha admitted. “But now… it happened to you; what are the odds that it won’t happen to the rest of us? It seems that fighting enemies besides the grimm lies in our future.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” Jaune said. “Happen to you, I mean. Or Ruby. God, I hope it doesn’t happen to Ruby.”

“A part of me… I think that Ruby might bear it the best of all of us,” Pyrrha said. “She has… beneath her sweetness and her kind heart, there is a core of steel within her soul; I can practically feel it through my semblance. She is committed to the ideals of a true huntress, and woe betide any villain who would stand against them.”

“I know,” Jaune said, sighing. “I… I feel the same way. But that still doesn’t mean that I have to want it to happen to her.”

“Nor I,” Pyrrha agreed. “And yet… it seems more inevitable now than it did before we set out on our most recent mission.” She fell silent for a moment or two. “Are you going to see Professor Goodwitch again?”

“Yeah,” Jaune replied at once. “One session… she told me that we were only just getting started. I’m going to see her tomorrow, and then… however often she thinks I need.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “I’m glad.” She pursed her lips together. “I know that I don’t understand what you’re going through, and I know that I perhaps can’t say things to you that someone more detached might be able to, but… please don’t forget that you can tell me anything you wish.”

“I won’t,” Jaune promised. He leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead, making her giggle just a little. “I’m-”

“Don’t,” Pyrrha said quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. “You don’t need to apologise, not for what you’re going through.”

“Maybe not,” Jaune admitted. He plucked idly at a string on his guitar. “No,” he said, more firmly this time, as he plucked a couple more strings. “But that doesn’t mean that I have to let it own me, let it be the be all and end all of me. If I’m going to stay here, then… then I have to live with it, and not just by going to see Professor Goodwitch but by living.” He stood up, stepping out into the light of the sun as he turned to face Pyrrha, holding out his hand to her. “Come with me,” he said.

“Jaune?”

“I mean, we talked about going on a date when we got back from the mission, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“So, let’s go!” Jaune cried. “I mean… if you still want to.”

Pyrrha’s eyes – her whole face – was illuminated by her radiant smile as she extended one gloved hand to him, placing her fingers into the palm of his hand and letting his grip enfold them as she got to her feet. “I would love to,” she declared.

Jaune let out a sigh of relief. “Then that… that’s partly settled, because I have no idea where we’re actually going.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth up with her free hand as she giggled. “I’m sure we’ll manage to think of something once we get to Vale… I hope we will, anyway, and if we don’t, then perhaps we can have a… a sightseeing date?”

“You mean where we wander round all the streets waiting to make up our minds but never actually do?” Jaune asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” Pyrrha admitted, another titter of laughter escaping her lips. “I mean, we are going to Vale, aren’t we?”

“Well, a part of me thought about a beach in Vacuo for our first date, but Vale is probably a safer choice,” Jaune said, and was glad to see that the abysmal joke had landed. He started to head towards the docking pads before he remembered that he was still holding his guitar in his other hand. “I should probably put this back in our room first.”

“You could take it with you,” Pyrrha suggested.

“I think that might disqualify us from going into a lot of places,” Jaune replied. “Unless you want our first date to be you watching me try and busk on some street corner.”

The smile on Pyrrha’s face suggested that she found the idea at least somewhat intriguing. “You do play very well.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know how romantic singing for spare lien is,” Jaune said. He paused for a moment. “Unless this is a very subtle way of saying that you need the money, in which case, I can probably come up with a better idea than-”

“No, I don’t need the money,” Pyrrha said, as together – hand in hand – they began to walk back down the path towards the courtyard and the school beyond. “Although… it sometimes occurs to me that perhaps I should.”

Jaune frowned at that. “You think that you should need money? As in… you should have more expensive tastes?”

“My tastes are probably expensive enough,” Pyrrha said with a shake of her head. “If you look at the shampoo I use compared to Sunset’s… I confess that I’ve become used to having access to the very best.”

“It makes sense,” Jaune said. “Sunset’s not using cheap shampoo because she’s humble; if she could afford the luxury brands, I bet she’d buy them.”

“I’m sure,” Pyrrha said softly. “It’s just that, well… how can I… I stormed out of the house because I wasn’t prepared to tolerate my mother’s… influence, so isn’t it hypocrisy to keep on spending her money?”

Jaune was quiet for a moment. “Isn’t it your family money?”

“And my mother is the head of the family, so that strikes me as a rather fine distinction.”

“What I mean is, your mother didn’t earn that money,” Jaune said. “She got it from… where does the money come from?”

“Our income comes from land, chiefly,” Pyrrha said. “Though there are also stocks and shares and an interest in some mines – metal, not dust – in the east of Anima.”

“So she just sat behind a desk and let the money roll in.”

“My mother does manage the portfolio.”

“Okay, but it’s still your family’s land,” Jaune said. “You’re not taking from your mother; you're spending money that is as much yours as it is hers. And what about your tournaments, did you make any money from winning?”

“There were cash prizes,” Pyrrha said. “As well as sponsorships and the like.”

“And where did that money go?”

“Into… into the family accounts,” Pyrrha replied.

“You see? It’s your money you're spending, and you’re not taking it from anyone else,” Jaune declared. “And besides, what good would it do if you did just decide to stop spending the money? Suppose that Miló needed to have some work done and you couldn’t afford it any more? Suppose that it broke? You could get… you could get into serious trouble in the field, and in spite of everything that’s going on between you and your mom, I can’t believe she’d want that. I don’t want that, not so you can prove a point.” It wasn’t even as if she could get a job to make ends meet, because Beacon forbade its students to work part-time – or any time – jobs when school was in session. It was in the rules right above ‘don’t fake your transcripts.’

“You sound like Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “She wants me to keep taking the money, too.”

“Sunset is pretty smart.”

“But sometimes rather self-interested.”

“If caring about you is self-interested, then call me selfish,” Jaune said. “Your mother hasn’t tried to cut you off, has she?”

“No.”

“And she could if she wanted to, couldn’t she?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then she doesn’t care, so why should you?”

“Because I… I’d like her to understand that I’m serious about this,” Pyrrha explained. “That I’m serious about you.”

Jaune squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter if she understands that yet; we’ll make her understand, together. We’ll make her see that we’re…”

Pyrrha waited for him to finish, only beginning to look a little puzzled when he did not. “Jaune? Is everything alright?”

“Did… did you say that you love me? Back there, under the tree.”

Pyrrha stared at him, and as she stared, her face began to grow red. “I… I, um, I, uh… that is to say, I… it’s a bit too soon to say things like that, isn’t it?”

Jaune hesitated. “Maybe a little bit.”

“I’m sorry!” Pyrrha cried, cringing apologetically, turning her face away from him. “I don’t suppose there’s any way that you could forget about that.”

“I’m not sure,” Jaune admitted, “but I could pretend that I have, if that would make you feel better.”

“I’m not certain it would, if only because I wouldn’t believe you,” Pyrrha lamented in a panic. “But… it would be very kind if you could try.”

“Then… what were we talking about just now?” Jaune asked.

Pyrrha’s face remained as red as the sash around her waist, but she was able to muster the traces of a smile. “Thank you,” she breathed, albeit she sounded a little wistful as she said it. Was that the right word? Like, sad, but not sad, exactly, not melancholy, but… 'wistful' had to be the right word, if only because he didn’t know another word to describe it.

Was it because he hadn’t said that he loved her? But, well, they hadn’t even gone out on a date yet; how was he supposed to know that he loved her? How did she know that she loved him? Did she love him, or had she simply misspoken?

How can she possibly be in love with me? I mean, I’m not in love with her. She’s beautiful, she’s kind, she’s the person I trust most in all of Remnant, but I’m not…

Or am I?

He tried to imagine himself here with Weiss, about to go on a date once he’d put his guitar away, and… he couldn’t. It would have been his fondest dream when he first came to Beacon, but now, he just couldn’t conceive of it. Pyrrha was the only person he could imagine standing here with.

So… does that mean…?

Why does this have to be so complicated?

“So,” Pyrrha said, sounding a little desperate to change the subject. “Have you had any ideas on where we could go for, uh, for our date?”

“Still not a clue.”

They still had not a clue by the time the Skybus dropped them off at the skydock, and they stayed clueless through the streets of Vale. Pyrrha didn’t seem to find his lack of ideas to be at all off-putting, and Jaune found that, as they wandered, he became less and less inclined to beat himself up over it. There was something to be said for just walking through the midst of Vale with Pyrrha by his side, hand in hand with the sweetest girl that he had ever met. There was something to be said for the fact that Pyrrha just wanted to be by his side, and he… he just wanted to be by her side too. They didn’t need a grand date, at least not right now; at some point, Jaune knew that he would have to come up with something impressive and romantic and worthy of Pyrrha, but right now… right now, they had one another, and that was enough.

For now.

Eventually, though, wandering around became just a little tiring, and Jaune began to look around for somewhere they could sit and talk some more and hopefully get something nice to eat as well. His gaze fell upon an offbeat ice-cream cafe in the middle of the street down which they walked, with a sign shaped like a cow with the letters A & P upon it. Another sign, shaped like a hand with one finger pointing downwards, gestured towards the door.

“Would you like some ice cream?” Jaune asked, looking towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha smiled, making her eyes and indeed her entire face light up in the process. “That sounds lovely,” she said.

A homeless man, a threadbare blanket draped over his legs and a little mongrel dog lying by his side, sat not far from the cafe window. “Spare some change, please gents?” he called. “Spare any change so I can get a bed for the night?”

“Here,” Jaune said, stopping for a moment and fishing in his pocket; he pulled out a small-value lien card and dropped it into the man’s outstretched, worn, and weathered hands. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, sir, and god bless. Have a nice day.”

They walked past the man and pushed open the door, half glass and half blue-painted wood, to step into the cafe. Cows dominated the far wall, which was painted with a mural of flying cows or cows lying on their backs on clouds, all of which Jaune had to admit he found a little bit weird, but then, this place seemed a little bit obsessed with the source of its product: the boards with the prices of the various offerings written in chalk upon them were also shaped like cows, and the cardboard cartons for the ice cream were white with black stripes, with a cow face on them. Only the wall on their left as they came in – opposite the counter on the right – was not bovine-themed at all, boasting rather a silhouette of Vale’s skyscape painted against a soft, late-afternoon sunglow.

A set of stairs led down into a basement, where there must have been more tables and chairs, because up here, it was a rather narrow space, with only a single row of tables along the wall on the left and one table at each window. The right-hand side of the store – Jaune and Pyrrha’s right as they came in – was wholly taken up with the counter, with ice cream in a score or more of different varieties sitting in a refrigerator under glass, along with pies and cakes on display. Tea, coffee, and ice cream machines sat on a wooden top against the wall, joined by glass jars filled with various treats and confections.

And behind the counter worked a startlingly familiar face.

“Miranda?!” Jaune asked.

She looked up, and Jaune had no doubt at all that this was indeed Miranda Wells, from back home in Alba Longa. She was not tall, although she wasn’t quite as short as Ruby or Nora either, being about as tall as Penny or Blake; she was slender, with lithe arms and small, pale hands that she had managed to keep small and pale and smooth all through growing up in a farming town. Her hair was brown and pinned up at the back of her head out of the way, while her eyes were a watery blue and currently very wide.

“Jaune?!” she gasped. “Jaune Arc?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune said. Meeting someone from home – someone from home working behind the counter of an ice cream cafe, no less – it was… it was not what he had expected when he came out into Vale today. He hadn’t expected it… ever, to be honest, although now that he thought about it, if he was going to run into anyone from Alba Longa in Vale, it would be Miranda Wells, the person who had wanted to get away as much as he did. Still, he hadn’t thought that she… that was to say, he hadn’t expected to run into her, and now that he had… he wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to. They’d been friends when they were younger, but as they got older, well…

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Jaune Arc, and no one ever will!”

“What,” he said, hoping that Pyrrha didn’t notice the tremble in his voice, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Miranda repeated. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Jaune said, “am a Beacon. I mean I’m at Beacon!” he corrected himself. “I’m a Beacon student. I’m a huntsman in training.”

Miranda’s eyes grew even wider. “A Beacon… you did it? You really left? You actually left and went to Beacon just like you said you would?” Her mouth formed an O of surprise. “I never thought you’d actually-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said, and whether she had intended to interrupt Miranda before she could finish the sentence ‘I never thought you’d actually do it,’ he found himself grateful for the fact that she had interrupted, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Right, sorry,” Jaune said. “Pyrrha, this is Miranda Wells from back home; Miranda, this is Pyrrha Nikos, my… my girlfriend.” That word came out very badly – he put all the emphasis in all the wrong places so that the word rolled like waves off of his tongue – but all the same, it felt very, very good to say it.

If Miranda’s eyes had gotten any wider, then she would have had to fish amongst the ice cream for them as she took in Pyrrha in all her statuesque loveliness. “Wow,” she repeated. “I mean… wow. Wow! The fact that you even have a girlfriend, but wow! How did you get so lucky?”

“Personally,” Pyrrha said, her tone touched by a sudden frost as she wrapped both hands around Jaune’s arm, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Miranda stared at them both, falling silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably quieter. “I just came across as a complete bitch, didn’t I?”

“Somewhat obnoxious, yes,” Pyrrha agreed quietly.

“Sorry,” Miranda said. “I really am sorry. I just… ever since we were kids and we used to hang out in the bookstore together, Jaune would always talk about how he was going to get out of that little village and go to Beacon and become a hero, and I just… I guess I never thought you really would. I didn’t think you had it in you to defy your parents and your sisters like that. But clearly, I shouldn’t have doubted you, because you did just that. Congratulations! Congratulations, and I’m sorry for what I said. For all of the things that I said.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, did you really not know that I was here, or did you deliberately come so you could rub your super hot girlfriend in my face?”

“I had no idea you were here,” Jaune assured her. “And I would never do that to you,” he assured Pyrrha.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Jaune, I know that; you don’t need to say it.”

“But what about you?” Jaune asked Miranda. “What are you doing here? I mean, you’re working here, but-”

“I work here to help with my expenses, since I’m not getting any money from home,” Miranda replied. “I’m studying Literature at King’s College.”

“Good for you!” Jaune said. “You always loved books.”

“And you always wanted to be a hero,” Miranda said. “It seems like both our dreams are coming true.”

“Well… maybe,” Jaune murmured.

Miranda frowned but didn’t press the subject; instead, she turned to Pyrrha. “So, Pyrrha, are you a Beacon student too? I mean, the outfit says yes, but I feel as though I’ve made enough assumptions today.”

“I am, yes,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune and I are partners in battle as well as… well, you know.”

Miranda chuckled. “Right,” she said. “You know, I feel as though I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

Pumpkin Pete’s, Jaune thought but didn’t say because he didn’t want to embarrass Pyrrha by bringing it up.

Even without him saying anything, Pyrrha’s cheeks began to redden a little. “I, uh, perhaps I just have one of those faces?”

“No,” Miranda said. “No, you really don’t, trust me. I know, it’ll come to me. But in the meantime, I know that we’re not busy right now, and I would love to stay and chat, but there’s always the off-chance my boss might stop by to see how things are, not to mention, I guess, you came in here because you were hungry, so you should probably order something.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Jaune agreed. “What’s good here?”

“Everything is good here, Jaune; this is where I work,” Miranda informed him with a smirk. “But, if you want to know what I think is really good, I recommend the milkshakes.”

“Hmm, I think I’d rather have something hot,” Jaune said.

“Two hot chocolates with all the trimmings?” Miranda suggested.

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha. Her lips twitched into a smile. “I can indulge myself just once,” she said.

“You won’t regret it,” Miranda assured them. “And to eat, why don’t you try the sundaes?”

“Are you recommending the most expensive items on the menu?” Pyrrha suggested.

“Jaune doesn’t want to be a cheap date, do you Jaune?” Miranda asked.

Pyrrha smiled. “I’ll take a slice of the apple pie, with one scoop of strawberry ice cream and one of vanilla.”

“I’ll take the same, but make my ice cream chocolate,” Jaune said.

“Coming right up,” Miranda said as she took their lien before turning away and busying herself with their orders.

All the trimmings on the hot chocolates turned out to be a scoop of vanilla ice cream floating in the cup, slowly melting alongside the marshmallows and the chocolate bomb that Miranda had already put in there, all of it covered under a layer of whipped cream. No wonder Pyrrha had referred to this as a one-off treat; it was the kind of thing that would probably ruin her tournament chances if she had it too often, but at the same time, it really did look delicious. So did the pie, for that matter, and the slices of ice cream that sat beside it.

Jaune carried the tray over to the table beside the window; perhaps there were some other patrons down in the basement, but they had the pick of the upstairs all to themselves.

Pyrrha had a slight smile playing across her face as they sat down. “So,” she said, “that’s the girl you almost married.”

Jaune laughed nervously. “That’s the girl my parents wanted me to marry,” he corrected her. “I never… she never… we never wanted anything like that.” He took a sip from his hot chocolate, or tried to; mostly, he succeeded in getting whipped cream all around his mouth. “We both had other dreams.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I hope I didn’t come across as too forward; it’s just that when she started talking about you like that… I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her.

“No, it’s not,” Pyrrha replied. “You… deserve better.”

“She was just surprised to see me, that’s all,” Jaune said. “When we were kids, we were close. Closer than anyone else I knew back home. Like she told you, we used to hang out in the bookstore together; everyone else thought we were kind of weird for spending so much time there, but for us, it was a place where we could escape, where we could spend time in worlds that were different from the place we lived. Better than the place we lived. Places where we could be whatever we wanted to be, and nobody could tell us 'no' or 'you can’t.'

“We used to talk all the time about how we’d go away, the things that we’d do, the places we’d see. I guess… I guess Miranda stopped believing that I’d ever actually do it.”

“Then she didn’t actually know you that well,” Pyrrha said.

Jaune laughed self-deprecatingly. “You didn’t know what I was like back then.”

“I know what you’ve done,” Pyrrha told him. “Someone… the kind of person who could do those things didn’t come out of nowhere when you arrived at Beacon. He was always there, waiting for the chance to shine. That’s why I…” She hesitated for a moment. “You didn’t answer her, when she said that you were both living your dreams.”

Jaune took the opportunity to avoid answering for a little bit by eating some of his pie and ice cream. Pyrrha watched him, as though she were taking in his every chew. “My dreams… they didn’t include some of the things that have happened lately.”

"I'm sorry for that," Pyrrha said, reaching out to place her hand upon his arm.

"It's fine," Jaune said.

"Jaune," Pyrrha replied reproachfully, a touch of the mildest offence entering her green eyes at the thought that he thought she would believe that.

Jaune sighed. "I mean, obviously, it's not fine, but… I suppose I just… you know that I didn't have the most… I was kind of naïve, and you knew that already. I didn't get what being a huntsman would really involve, what it would be like. But it's just kept hitting me, one thing after another, like… this isn't like a comic book, is it?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured, her voice soft and gentle and filled with regret. "I'm afraid not." She hesitated for a moment, glancing down at her ice cream where it was starting to melt.

"You should probably eat that," Jaune suggested. "Unless you want to wet your pie with it."

Pyrrha let out the very mildest of chuckles as she dug her spoon into the pie and placed both pie and ice cream into her mouth. "Mmm!" she exclaimed. "It's very good."

"It is, isn't it?" Jaune said. "We were lucky to find this place."

"Absolutely," Pyrrha agreed. Her voice became more solemn again. "Jaune… is this… this is still what you want, isn't it? To be at Beacon, to train to be a huntsman, to be with us. That is what you want?"

Jaune ate a little more of his ice cream and drank some of his hot chocolate. It was still very hot; it scorched his tongue. He ate some ice cream. He wasn't delaying, exactly, he was just… taking his time. "I'm not going to leave," he said quietly. "I'm not going to leave you."

Pyrrha's brow crinkled a little beneath her gleaming circlet, but she said nothing, letting him finish.

"Professor Goodwitch asked me if I wanted to go," he admitted. "She said that not everyone… that some people find they're not cut out for this and that there's no shame in that. And there'd be no shame if I decided that this wasn't for me."

Pyrrha stared into Jaune's eyes, and yet still, she held her peace, letting him say everything that he had to say.

"But I… I just keep thinking of that wall at Benni Havens', you know?" Jaune said. "How… how many of the faces up on that wall aren't around anymore? And the thought of that happening to you or Ruby or even Sunset, I just… I know that I'm not as good in a fight as either of you three, and I know it's probably insanely arrogant of me to talk like I could protect you – protect any of you – but if anything happened to you, and I wasn't there, I just… it would eat me up inside until there was nothing left, I just know it."

"And that's why you're staying?" Pyrrha demanded, her voice laced with an undercurrent of disapproval. "Out of obligation to me, to us?"

"You don't think it's enough," Jaune murmured.

"It's not for me to say whether your reasons are enough or not; so long as they're enough for you, then that's all that matters," Pyrrha said, "but I don't want to be the reason why… you say that if something happened to me, but how do you think I would feel if something happened to you, and the only reason you were in danger was because you felt bound to me, and I had pulled you into peril?"

"I… I guess I hadn't really thought about that," Jaune replied. "When you put it like that… it does seem a little selfish of me."

"No, it doesn't, especially because it wasn't meant to be," Pyrrha corrected him. "In some ways, it's the most selfless thing in the world, but… I want you to fight with us because you want to fight, not because you feel like it's what you ought to do. And I'm sure that Ruby and… I'm sure that Ruby would say the same. No, that's very unfair to Sunset; she'd say the same too, I'm sure."

"But aren't you here because you feel like you ought to be?" Jaune asked. "As the heir to the House of Nikos, the pride of Mistral? Aren't you here because it's what you think you should do?"

Pyrrha stared at him for a moment. "Touché, Mister Arc," she conceded, a little playfulness in her voice. "But not the whole story. It is true that I am born to this, obligated to it by my birth as much as by my skill, but… but that is a lie, and a rather proud lie upon my part at that. The monarchy fell generations ago, the age of heroes vanished long before that, the Mistralian values of which I spoke to you that night in the palace are honoured as much in the breach as in the observance, maybe more so. No one would care if I devoted my whole life entirely to vainglorious tournament fighting; no one would care if I did nothing at all but attend high society functions and live off the inherited wealth of my family and the incomes of our land. In fact, some people would probably prefer it if I did either of those things, particularly the latter; it would lower my public profile quite considerably. The Mistral that would demand my service in exchange for all the privileges of my birth has not existed since the Great War, if it existed then, and though I would see the glory of Mistral renewed… when I speak of these things as the motivations for choosing, it is because I choose to give them claim on me, I choose to live by such ancient ways in this. I choose to offer up my life in the cause of humanity just as I choose to give my heart to you. Were I not bound by tradition only when I wish to be, I would obey my mother as a god and have promised my hand to Turnus Rutulus by now.

"But I am not. I am with you, and I am here because… because I choose to be. Because I choose to do something that matters. Because I choose to do something that will make a difference to this whole world of Remnant." She smiled and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Now you see why I prefer to speak of obligation than to seem quite so big-headed."

Jaune grinned. "I can see how it might seem to people who didn't know you so well," he admitted, "but I also know that you only mean it for the good of Remnant and everyone who lives in it. And I get what you're saying, that you've chosen this because it's what you want: for you and no one else."

"Precisely," Pyrrha said. "So… what is that you want, Jaune?"

"I want you," he said.

"And that's delightful to hear," Pyrrha replied, her cheeks reddening just a little, "but you know what I meant."

Jaune didn't reply. He didn't have an easy answer to give to Pyrrha. What did he want? Not to be a hero, not anymore. That dream seemed childish now, naïve, the dream of someone who hadn't understood what the world outside of Alba Longa – and the life of a huntsman – was really like. But at the same time… wasn't that also Sunset's dream, who was or seemed so much worldlier than he was; what was the difference between her dream and his, except that she couched it in language that was a little more self-absorbed? For that matter, what about Ruby, what was the difference there except that she went the other way and talked about it in a way that made it seem so much more selfless? Ruby talked about saving people, but that was what he had wanted too. So maybe it was okay to want that, so long as he understood what it really meant and entailed and what it might ask of him.

"Do you remember Professor Goodwitch's speech on the flight over?" he asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "Although… I wasn't sure if… Ruby said that-"

"I didn't start having issues until after she started talking," Jaune informed her. "I heard… well, I heard the bit about an era of peace. Is it me, or is that really weird to think of now? Is it that the world suddenly got more dangerous, or is it that the era of peace was never that peaceful to begin with?"

"The peace was always upheld by huntsmen and huntresses," Pyrrha murmured, "but I think the days have grown a little darker all the same."

Jaune nodded. That sounded about right. "I want to help," he said. "Even if I can't do as much as I once thought I could, I want to do whatever I can. Is that enough?"

Pyrrha nodded, smiling. "I think that's plenty," she said.

They lapsed into a comfortable, companionable silence while they ate, both paying as much attention to the delicious food in front of them as to each other, if only to finish off the ice cream before it all melted into just liquid on the plate. But as they were finishing eating, with some of their hot chocolate left, Pyrrha suddenly asked him, "Jaune, do you think you could teach me how to cook?"

Jaune blinked in surprise. "'To cook'? Why?"

"I'd like to learn."

"Sure, but why?"

"Because I think I should be able to do these things for myself if I want to," Pyrrha explained. "And because…" she hesitated, tracing a circle on the table with one finger. "And because I'd like to learn, from you. That is, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Jaune declared. "I was just surprised, that's all, but sure." He grinned. "It'll be nice to be able to teach you something for a change."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand while she laughed.

"So," Jaune continued. "What do you want to learn?"

"I'm not sure; where do you think I should start?"

They discussed the issue as they finished off their hot chocolate and were still talking about it as they got up to leave, but as they headed towards the door, they were interrupted by Miranda calling out, "Pyrrha, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Pyrrha, can I talk to you for a second?"

Pyrrha stopped. Jaune was almost at the door, one hand reaching for the wooden bar attached to the cold metal handle, and he stopped too, half turning back towards the… person he had known from his hometown.

Pyrrha wasn't yet comfortable referring to her, even in her own head, as Jaune's friend. She still hadn't made up her mind to like Miranda Wells; Jaune might dismiss what she had been about to say, and whatever else she had said to him in the past, but Pyrrha found she would not be quite ready to be so generous. It was no wonder that Jaune's confidence was shot to pieces if that was the kind of attitude that he'd had to put up with from everyone around him growing up. No wonder he found it so hard to believe in himself and his potential. It was a miracle that he had made it to Beacon at all, let alone managed to become such a fine young man. And he was a fine young man, worthy to become a huntsman, with so much to give to Remnant, and if Miranda Wells – or anyone else for that matter – couldn't see it, then she was a fool.

Nevertheless, in spite of however she might feel about Miss Wells, it wouldn't do for her to make a scene when Jaune had not; she didn't want to embarrass Jaune or for any stories to get back home that he was associating with the wrong kind of people, and so, Pyrrha walked briskly, if a little stiffly, across the café to where Miranda stood behind the counter, not far from the stairs.

Miranda looked Pyrrha in the eyes for a moment before she said, "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"I don't know you," Pyrrha replied, which had the virtue of being honest.

Miranda gave her a knowing smile. "But you do care about Jaune, don't you?"

"Very much so, yes," Pyrrha informed her.

"Good," Miranda said. "He needs… he deserves someone who cares about him." She paused. "I was a little worried that you didn't," she admitted. "I thought that this might be some kind of a prank, you know? You would pretend to like him, pretend to go out with him, and then… it all turns out to be a trick, and your friends… beat him up or laugh at him or something."

Pyrrha's tone chilled noticeably. "I don't know any girl who would be so cruel," she said. "Certainly I would not, and certainly not to Jaune."

"I know," Miranda said. "As I said, I worried about it, because who knows what you foreign girls might do-"

"How did you know I wasn't from Vale?" Pyrrha asked.

"Oh, foreigners can be from Vale too," Miranda explained. "Anyone from outside of home is foreign. So my Pa said, anyway. But the point is, I was worried at first because you're, well, because-"

"Because you don't think that someone like me would want to go out with Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, her voice becoming colder by the moment. "You're mistaken."

Miranda managed to smile, if only somewhat. "The fact that you clearly want to do me an injury right now is how I knew that you weren't faking it; you wouldn't get so upset if you didn't care about him."

"I do care, a great deal," Pyrrha said, verging on snapping. "What is it to you, in any case?"

"Listen, I'm really sorry about before," Miranda said. "A Literature student should understand the importance of words, and I chose mine badly. It's just… I care about Jaune too, even if it seemed like I didn't. I just… is he okay, up there at that school? My classmates say it's hardcore up there."

"We are training to become the defenders of humanity against the demons and the dark," Pyrrha declared. "Our training is as rigorous as that heavy duty demands."

Miranda frowned. "I didn't think he'd make it," she confessed. "And I got tired of hearing him talk about dreams that would never come true."

"You underestimated him," Pyrrha informed her. "He has more courage than you knew."

"His courage wasn't the issue," Miranda replied. "It was more… he was always a sweet kid, kind and friendly… even though people were tough on him or mean to him, he never lost that. I suppose I thought that a huntsman would have to be a little less sweet and a little more… macho."

Pyrrha shook her head. "Personally, I think that a huntsman can do much worse than to be kind and to be driven by kindness to help and protect others."

Miranda's smile became very knowing. "You really like him, don't you?"

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I love him," she whispered.

Miranda's eyebrows rose. "Already?"

"You don't believe that our whole lives can change in the blink of an eye?"

"In books, sure, but not in real life," Miranda said. "How is he doing?"

Pyrrha blinked. "He… our last mission was a little wearing on him."

"Are you going to help him through it?"

"If I can," Pyrrha said. "If he'll let me."

Miranda nodded. "And you believe he can do it?"

"I do," Pyrrha said. "Without a doubt."

"You might be the first person who does," Miranda muttered. "He's lucky to have you."

"I'm lucky to have him."

"Yeah," Miranda replied. "Yeah, you are." She nodded affably. "I suppose he told you that our folks…"

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. "Yes, he mentioned it, in passing. Were you… are you-?"

"Am I jealous? No," Miranda said quickly. "Do you have to worry about me? Also no. When you spend as much time reading books as I have, you find that real men… are a little disappointing by comparison."

"Might I suggest that the problem is that you haven't met the right kind of men?" said Pyrrha.

"Maybe," Miranda conceded. "At the time… I thought Jaune was all talk. I thought that he'd end up spending his whole life back home like everyone wanted him to, and on top of all that, I didn't even think he'd be very good at it, so he'd be a doubly terrible choice. But having moved out to the big city, I've come to realise that he…" She trailed off, saying instead, "Take care of him, okay?"

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune, waiting patiently for her to finish, before she returned her attention to Miranda. "We take care of each other."

The Climb (New)

The Climb

“Sunset!” Skystar waved one hand in the air as she approached down the street, her heels clicking on the paving stones. “Sunset!” she cried again, a bright smile upon her face as she drew near. “Fancy running into you here!”

“It’s a smaller city than it seems, I suppose,” Sunset replied.

Skystar laughed more than the comment warranted. “I’m so glad to run into you here; it means that I get to give you this myself.” She held out a flier from a box of fliers tucked under her arm.

Sunset glanced over Skystar’s shoulder; she could see that the street was filled with people handing out such fliers to anyone who was passing in the street, or at least trying to; not everyone took one, but most people did, and most even glanced at them before stuffing them into their pockets or bags.

Sunset did likewise, taking the flier out of Skystar’s hand and looking down to see what it said. “Shakstspur in the Park?”

Skystar nodded eagerly. “The Vytal Festival is a celebration of culture, and since Vale is hosting, I thought, well, what could be better than celebrating the greatest writer in Valish history? So we’re reviving the Second Richardiad right here in Winchester Park, the way they used to do theatre in the old days. You should come! You should bring your team! I’ve sat in on a couple of the rehearsals, and while I don’t understand all of the language, some of it is hilarious, and other times, it’s-” Skystar’s words abruptly stopped tumbling out of her mouth as she caught sight of Blake, standing at the back of the quartet of young huntresses – and Twilight – just visible between Rainbow and Twilight who were, in turn, standing just a little behind Sunset.

The smile faded from Skystar’s face, replaced by a look that was very like fear. No, there was no ‘very like’ about it; she was afraid.

And it didn’t take a genius to work out what she was afraid of.

“So, um,” Skystar stammered. “I, um, I should go. Have a nice day.” She turned on her high heels and began to walk away as fast as they would carry her – she wasn’t as nimble in them as Pyrrha, to say the least.

Blake sighed and half-turned away from the others, clutching at the metal band around her left arm with her right hand as her head bowed towards the ground.

Sunset exhaled from out between her teeth. “Skystar, wait!” she called out, running after the First Councillor’s daughter. She supposed that it didn’t really matter whether or not Skystar Aris held any ill will towards Blake or not, but it stuck in her craw that Skystar should consider Cardin Winchester to be a paragon of morality and the epitome of all that a huntsman should be while regarding Blake as some sort of depraved and dangerous criminal. It might not be strictly speaking backwards, but it was wrong, wrong enough that she was going to get an itch on the scars on her palm unless she did something about it.

The flier crumpled in Sunset’s hand as she dashed down the street.

Thankfully, as unsteadily as Skystar was moving, it didn’t take Sunset long to catch up with her. “Skystar!” she repeated.

Skystar’s lip trembled with uncertainty, and although she seemed to be trying her best to ignore Sunset as the latter jogged by her side, she couldn’t help but keep glancing Sunset’s way.

Sunset quickened her pace, getting out in front of Skystar and planting herself squarely in the path of the Amity Princess. Skystar stopped, a squeaking sound passing between her lips, as she clutched at her box of fliers as though they would protect her.

She was wearing seashell bracelets on her wrists, Sunset noted idly and somewhat absurdly in the circumstances; it didn’t matter, but it was weird. Couldn’t the First Councillor’s daughter afford real jewels?

Couldn’t her boyfriend afford some real jewels?

“Skystar,” she said, for the third or fourth time. “Blake isn’t an enemy, and she isn’t dangerous. “She’s-”

“I know what she is,” Skystar said quickly. “My mother told me… the truth, not what they told the news. She told me what she really is. She told me to stay away from her.”

Sunset sighed. “Of course she did,” she murmured. “Your mother,” she added, maintaining a calm tone of voice through some little effort of will, “is just trying to keep you safe, but Blake doesn’t deserve to be treated like a pariah.”

“But she… she’s-"

“A brave and devoted huntress,” Sunset finished, “who has done more than anyone else to keep Vale safe from the White Fang.”

Skystar stared at her warily. “Mother says she’s dangerous.”

“What’s your mother doing to protect Vale?” Sunset snapped. “Beyond inviting an Atlesian fleet to do the job that she can’t? Blake has just done more to protect Vale than all the cops in this town, which isn’t that surprising, because most of them are on the take!” That reminds me, I should check if Blake has told anybody about that. In the immediate aftermath of the fight with Adam – in the aftermath of seeing that brand upon his face – the words that had passed between Adam and Torchwick had been driven out of her mind by other, seemingly more important concerns, but her anger at Skystar’s attitude had recalled them to the forefront of her mind.

If Blake hasn’t done it already, we really need to let… somebody know what Torchwick said about that.

“That… that was her?” Skystar asked. “Is she the one who caught Torchwick?”

“We caught Torchwick,” Sunset corrected her. “But Blake was there.”

Skystar blinked. “The news last night didn’t mention that.”

“No, I’ll bet they didn’t,” Sunset replied.

“But why would a terrorist-”

“She’s not a terrorist,” Sunset insisted. “She… she was, I’ll admit, and so would she; but she’s not one any more. She’s not that person anymore. She’s not perfect, believe me, but she’s not someone that you should be afraid of.” She ventured a smile. “Not unless she asks you for a favour, then get ready to be plunged into a world of trouble.”

“Then why does Mother think she’s dangerous?” Skystar demanded. “Why does Cardy say that she shouldn’t be allowed at Beacon?”

“Really?” Sunset replied. “Cardy says that? Does Cardy say that he’s done anything about that?” Maybe I won’t need Cinder’s help to find out who graffitied our door after all.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… don’t worry about it,” Sunset said, because getting into the issue of what sort of man Cardin Winchester really was would distract from the real issue. “The point is that Blake… Blake isn’t perfect, but she is worth far more than those who hiss at her the loudest.”

“Then why…?” Skystar hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Sunset snorted and stepped out of the way. “All I ask,” she said, “is that when your plays go off without a hitch, and everything else, you ask yourself who is responsible for that. I guarantee that Blake will be amongst them.” She won’t let herself not be involved.

Skystar stood still, and for a moment, Sunset thought that she might say something, but she didn’t; she hastened away, glancing at Sunset and looking over her shoulder as she went, but going all the same.

Sunset watched her go, her back to the others as they joined her.

“How did that go?” Twilight asked.

Sunset shrugged. “Who can say, really?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Blake murmured. “It doesn’t really matter what she thinks of me.”

“Yes,” Sunset declared, rounding on her. “It does.”

Blake didn’t meet Sunset’s eyes. “I don’t do this for recognition,” she said. “Or for the good opinions of those I protect.”

“But you do protect them,” Rainbow said, a touch of sharpness in her voice. “So they should appreciate you for it.”

Blake managed to raise a slight smirk upon her face. “'I turned up at the theatre, as sober as can be,'” she murmured. “'They found a drunk civilian room, but not a seat for me.'”

“'I next went to a public house, to get a pint of beer,'” Twilight said. “'The barman looked at me and said, "We serve no soldiers here."'” She paused. “I’m a little surprised you know Bramley, given the… the, um-”

“The fact that he was egregiously racist?” Blake suggested.

Twilight winced. “In the context of his time-”

“He was still a racist,” Blake insisted. “And treating the people of the past like they were an indivisible mass of bigotry does a disservice to those who fought against prejudice and oppression.”

“Yeah, well, you’d know all about judging people as one big blob, wouldn’t you?” Rainbow asked.

Blake’s cheeks reddened a little with embarrassment, and she did not reply; what could she have said, even if she had wished to reply?

“Anyway,” Rainbow went on, folding her arms across her chest, “are you two going to stand there making me feel stupid because I don’t read as many books as you, or are you going to explain?”

“It’s a poem,” Sunset answered. “Part of one, at last; an old Atlesian-”

“Mantle,” Twilight corrected. “Bramley was writing not long after the Great War, before Atlas had supplanted Mantle as the heart of the kingdom.”

“That particular poem is about soldiers,” Blake said, “and the treatment shown to them back home. The ill-treatment. Or are you going to tell me that Atlas has moved on since then?”

“Yes,” Rainbow said at once. Then she hesitated, squirming for a moment. “Well, some of the time. Mantle… yeah, okay, I can see that happening in Mantle today because Mantle sucks.”

“That’s a bit of a sweeping generalisation, don’t you think?” Twilight asked.

“Can you think of someone getting thrown out of a bar for being in uniform anywhere but Mantle?” Rainbow replied.

“Well…” Twilight trailed off, at least for a few seconds. “I think it varies across the kingdom, really. Mantle… a lot of people resent the military because they resent Atlas and the way that Mantle has declined, as they see it, under Atlesian rule. On the other hand, you’ve got Canterlot, which is very heavily associated with the CombatSchool, and Crystal City, where the R&D test beds are, and I think in both places, you’d find soldiers are pretty popular.”

“And in Atlas?” Blake asked.

“In Atlas, everyone knows someone in the service or knows someone who does,” Rainbow declared. “In Atlas, they know who keeps them safe. People round here should do the same.”

“It’s not like I’m wearing a Defence Force uniform,” Blake murmured.

“No, you’ve actually accomplished something,” Sunset pointed.

“Sunset!” Twilight squawked reproachfully.

“What?” Sunset cried. “We’ve accomplished more than the cops or the soldiers.”

“Than the Valish soldiers,” Rainbow corrected.

“Whatever,” Sunset said dismissively. “The point is that Blake deserves a little respect. We all deserve some respect.”

Rainbow nodded. “No argument here.”

“Well, this isn’t Atlas,” Blake replied. “It’s not the idealised Atlas that exists in your heads-”

“I don’t have an idealised version of Atlas in my head.” Sunset protested.

“Then you’re the only one here who doesn’t,” Blake said quickly. “This isn’t even the real Atlas. This is Vale, and I’m-”

“An Atlesian soldier,” Rainbow finished for her.

Blake raised one eyebrow. “That’s not exactly how I would describe my position.”

“Oh, come on!” Rainbow said. “Haven’t you had fun working with us?”

“I’m not sure ‘fun’ is quite the word I’d use,” Blake said softly.

“Then what would you call it?”

Blake was silent for a moment. “Twilight, where are we going? There’s no point us just standing here all day.”

“Right,” Twilight said, a touch of nervous laughter in her voice. “Now, um, where is it? Um.” She got out her scroll, her fingers fumbling just a little bit as she opened the device, bringing up a map of Vale. She typed a name into the search bar on the top right-hand corner. “Ah! Here we are!” she cried, as a point on the map became marked with a red dot. “Bibliophiles’ Paradise.”

“Not exactly a humble name,” Sunset observed.

A sigh fell from Blake’s lips. “These booksellers just can’t help themselves, I suppose. They have to make grandiose claims for themselves.”

Sunset’s brow furrowed. “You’re thinking about Tukson?”

Blake nodded solemnly. “I haven’t been to see him.”

“You’ve been pretty busy,” Sunset pointed out.

“I should have made time.”

“We’ve got time now,” Rainbow pointed out. “Twi, can we put off the bookshop until after we’ve swung by the hospital?”

“Of course,” Twilight said brightly. “Do you know which hospital it is?”

“Lancaster Memorial,” Blake answered.

“He might have been discharged,” Rainbow suggested, as Twilight typed the name into her search bar. “It has been a while.”

“I suppose,” Blake conceded. “But if he isn’t there, they might know where he went.”

“Why don’t you just call him?” Sunset asked.

Blake looked at Sunset, and her ears pricked up with embarrassment as her face froze in a look of wide-eyed mortification. Blake continued to stare.

Sunset felt a smile spread across her face. “You hadn’t thought of that, had you?”

“I…” Blake faltered, turning away from Sunset as she got her scroll out. She said nothing to anyone as she started to thumb through her contacts.

Sunset exchanged a glance with Rainbow over Blake’s shoulder.

“Don’t sweat it,” Rainbow told her. “Twilight forgets the obvious stuff sometimes, too.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight squeaked.

“It’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” Rainbow assured her with a pat on the shoulder.

“Huh,” Blake muttered.

Sunset took a step closer to her. “What?”

“Tukson’s number has been disconnected,” Blake whispered. “But… why?”

None of the other three girls said anything.

“Well, we won’t get any answers here,” Twilight said with a touch of faux cheer entering into her voice. “We might as well swing by the hospital. I know where to go; it’s this way.”

She led the way, a pace or two out in front of the others, giving them someone to follow, even if they weren’t following any great distance. Rainbow and Sunset both hung back with Blake, whose steps dragged just a little bit as she followed Twilight with a subdued, shuffling gait.

“If anything had happened to him, they would have told you,” Sunset assured her.

“Would they?” Blake replied, glancing up at the girl on her right. “I’m not his family; I’m just… an old comrade from a past that he keeps secret and for good reason. Why would anybody bother to tell me anything?”

“The General would have told you,” Rainbow insisted.

“Would General Ironwood even bother to find out?”

“General Ironwood assigned the guards to protect the guy in hospital; they’d tell him if he… if he died there,” Rainbow replied. “And he’d pass that on. He wouldn’t sit on it and leave you in the dark.”

Blake was quiet for a moment. “I suppose he’d want to give me cause and motivation to fight back against the White Fang.”

“As if you don’t have that already,” Sunset muttered.

“He’d tell you because it’s the right thing to do,” Rainbow corrected Blake.

“And Atlas always does the right thing?”

“Once they’ve tried everything else,” Sunset said.

“Very funny,” Rainbow said. “We may not always do the right thing, but we don’t ever try and do the wrong thing. We just… make mistakes, like everyone else.” Rainbow put her arm around Blake’s shoulder. “But if you come to Atlas with me, you’ll get it.”

Blake glanced at the huntress to her left. She snorted.

“What?” Rainbow demanded. “You think I’m joking? I’m serious! Once we’ve saved Vale from the White Fang and given Skystar the breathing space to hold a totally awesome Vytal Festival, then-”

“The terms of my agreement with Atlas will be complete,” Blake said. “I’ll be free.” She looked at Rainbow again. “Unless you mean to change the agreement on me?”

“Of course not,” Rainbow replied, her tone rising to mild outrage. “That’s not how Atlas does things; that’s not how I do things. I gave you my word that we were going to keep you in until this White Fang thing was done, and then we’d let you go, and I never, ever go back on my word.” She was quiet for a moment. “What I’m saying is, that when all that is done, we’ll be shipping back to Atlas, and I think you should come with us.”

Blake stared at her.

Rainbow blinked. “What?”

“I’m waiting for the punchline,” Blake said dryly.

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Come on, Blake, there is no punchline!”

“You’re serious?” Blake demanded. “You’re not kidding?”

“Of course I’m not kidding; why would I be kidding about this?” Rainbow asked.

“Because it’s Atlas?” Blake suggested.

“Because Blake already has a spot here at Beacon,” Sunset added. “Why would she need to transfer?”

“Because you’d fit right in at Atlas,” Rainbow insisted. “You’re smart, serious, committed; if you could learn to do as you’re told, you’d be the model Atlas student. You’re much more of a model student than I am.” She paused. “And besides, what are you going to do here at Beacon? Are you going to steal Sunset’s bed for the next four years? Are you going to be the fifth wheel for Team Sapphire the entire time you’re here at Beacon?”

“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want,” Sunset told her. “No one minds having an honorary member.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps, with a little more time, my team will-”

“What?” Rainbow demanded. “Are you hoping that they’ll come round? Forgive you? You could do so much better than them! Lyra has no business being a huntress, Bon Bon isn’t much better, and Sky Lark is a sack of flour; transfer to Atlas, repeat your first year, get yourself a cool red aiguillette on your uniform and get yourself three tough northern flowers to have your back.”

“'Northern flowers'?” Sunset repeated incredulously.

Rainbow shrugged. “It’s something Ciel says. Flowers of the North is what we are, if you listen to her for long enough.”

“'Up, through snow and cold and heart of winter,'” Blake whispered. “'Rise up, and bloom in glory.'”

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “The point is that we’re tough; we can survive the winter, so we can survive anything. And I think that you could survive it too. I guarantee you’ll make team leader there too; in fact, I’ll mentor you to make sure you do.”

“You’ll mentor me?” Blake repeated.

“Okay, that sounds a little formal; I just mean I’ll teach you what General Ironwood looks for in a leader,” Rainbow explained. “Although you’ve probably got it all already; you just need to show that you can step up to the responsibility.”

“I don’t know,” Blake murmured. “I wasn’t such a great leader last time.”

“You were lying to your teammates the last time; that won’t be a problem in Atlas,” Rainbow declared. “Come on! I’m talking about access to all the most advanced toys; I’m talking about high-tech training facilities; in fact, I’m talking about high-tech everything facilities at the best-funded school in Remnant; I’m talking about air support on tap. What’s not to love?”

“I’m a faunus,” Blake pointed out.

“And what am I?”

“An ugly fish,” Sunset answered.

“You’re different,” Blake said, ignoring Sunset.

“Oh, yes, let’s go back to the days of you thinking that I’m a sellout for serving Atlas,” Rainbow muttered.

Blake’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… you have connections to General Ironwood; you’re protected from what it’s really like in Atlas for ordinary faunus.”

“Neon doesn’t have pull with the General, and she makes it work,” Rainbow said. “And she’s not the only one either. Besides, you could have pull if you wanted.”

Blake frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re working directly for General Ironwood himself,” Rainbow explained patiently. “He reads my reports, and I’m going to write good things about you tonight after we’re done. I think he’s going to like what he reads. General Ironwood recognises talent when he sees it, and… and when he sees talent worth nurturing, he doesn’t give a damn whether they’re a faunus or not.”

“Neither does Beacon,” Sunset insisted. “You could ask Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune, and they’d all tell you that none of them mind you rooming with us; none of them would mind you staying on as a member of our team; you’ve even got your name on the wall now.” She paused. “Did you actually want to come to Beacon for a reason, or was it just that you were in Vale at the time?”

“I…” Blake trailed off for a moment. “I wanted to train as… I wanted to… it sounds stupid.”

“Maybe,” Sunset allowed, with some idea of what she was about to say, “but you have to say it anyway.”

Blake snorted. “I wanted to see if it was possible for someone like me to become a hero, at the school that produces heroes.”

“You think Atlas doesn’t turn out heroes?” Rainbow demanded.

“Not of the same calibre,” Sunset informed her in a tone whose blitheness was entirely feigned. “Listen, Blake, I know that things at Beacon aren’t going entirely as you planned when you came here, but they’re going okay, aren’t they?”

“At Atlas, you’ll have a place to belong.”

“You have a place to belong right here at Beacon, with Team Sapphire.”

“Teams are four members, and you’ll be leader of a team if you stick with me and come to Atlas.”

“At Atlas, you’ll be pushed into a mold-”

“Oh, come on, even you can’t actually believe that!” Rainbow snapped.

“At Beacon, you’re free to become whoever you want to be.”

“That’s true of Atlas too, but we’ve got airships as well.”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Twilight cried, rounding on all three of them. “Blake isn’t a toy for you to fight over or a prize for one of you to claim from the other.”

“That isn’t why we’re arguing,” Rainbow said defensively.

“Although it would be nice to win,” Sunset muttered.

Twilight glared at her.

“I’m kidding!” Sunset cried. “I’m… ninety percent kidding.”

Twilight folded her arms. “Don’t you think that Blake should be free to make this decision for herself?”

“I’m just letting her know that she’s got options,” Rainbow insisted. “And maybe offering some encouragement one way.”

“Just like I was just encouraging her to go a different way,” Sunset said.

“I think you’ve both encouraged Blake quite enough,” Twilight declared. “Don’t you agree, Blake?”

“I, uh, thanks, Twilight,” Blake murmured. She looked at Rainbow Dash. “Why does this matter so much to you? Why do you want this?”

Rainbow stared blankly back at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you trying to… to recruit me?” Blake asked. “Why does it matter whether I come back to Atlas or not? Maybe I would like it there, maybe… I’ll admit that you’ve been nicer than I was expecting you to be. Maybe I’d even fit in there. But why do you want it? Why don’t you just fly away and leave me behind?”

Rainbow didn’t say anything for a moment or two. “Because… because I like you,” she said. “And because… because you don’t want to be a hero. Not like that statue in the courtyard, anyway; Atlas makes heroes too, but it’s a different kind of hero, and I think that’s the kind of hero that you want to be: a part of something bigger than yourself, something more than just you standing out in the field alone. I think… I think you’re made of the right stuff. I think you could have the Mettle, if you came to Atlas and saw what we’re all about.”

“The Mettle?” Blake repeated.

“It’s… how do I explain it?” Rainbow asked. “It’s a… it’s like a semblance that we all share, but it’s not like a power or anything-”

“So it’s nothing like a semblance?” Sunset mocked.

“Shut up. I’m trying my best,” Rainbow snapped. “The Mettle of the North is our fighting spirit: it binds the forces of Atlas together; it’s our will to defend the kingdom and keep our people safe; it gives us the determination to keep fighting and see things through to the end, no matter the odds. More than the guns and the bombs and the ships, the Mettle is why we win.” She scratched the back of her head. “Ciel explains it better than I can; even the General can put it into better words than me.”

“It sounds… to be perfectly honest, it sounds appealing, although I’m not entirely sure how it differs from ordinary courage or determination,” Blake murmured.

“Our own courage can falter,” Rainbow said. “Our determination can reach its limit, but the Mettle never runs out.”

“Do you really believe that?” Blake asked.

Rainbow took a few seconds to reply. “It helps to be able to tell yourself that, when it feels as though you’ve got no courage left,” she said softly.

Blake’s ears drooped. “I… I see.” She looked away from Rainbow Dash. “I never would have thought about coming to Atlas if you hadn’t mentioned the idea,” she confessed, “but now that you have mentioned it… I don’t know. Sunset’s right; I wanted to come to Beacon for a reason, but… I can see that in Atlas… I don’t know.”

“You should tell her the other reason,” Twilight said.

“I thought you said I’d encouraged her enough?” Rainbow replied.

“You have,” Twilight told her, “but you might as well be completely honest.”

“Honest?” Blake repeated. “Honest about what?”

Rainbow licked her lips. “It would be nice,” she admitted, “to have more faunus working their way up in Atlas. We’re not going to change things by holding rallies like your parents; we’re not going to change things by setting off bombs like the White Fang; the way we’re going to change things is if faunus like you and me can climb our way to the top of places like the military. Once we get our hands on the levers of power, then we can pull on them.”

“That’s generally what you do with levers,” Blake observed.

“Exactly,” Rainbow said. “And when we pull, things can really change for the faunus! That’s my plan, anyway, and Twilight says that it’s a good one.”

“I think it’s the best possible choice,” Twilight said, “and, please, believe me when I say that I’m not just saying that as a human anxious to preserve my own privileges. Although you won’t have to take my word for it, because I’m going to show you at some point today.”

“I’ll do it alone if I have to,” Rainbow said, “but it would be better with company.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. She was genuinely surprised to hear Rainbow talking that way. “In all the years that I knew you at Combat School,” she said, “you never once gave any sign that you thought this way.”

“I never made any secret that I wanted to climb all the way to the top.”

“I thought that was because you had a huge ego.”

Rainbow grinned. “Well, there’s that too. But I can have selfless motives as well. Besides, it’s not like we were close back then, so why is it so surprising that you didn’t know my secrets?”

“It’s surprising that you were able to keep it secret,” Sunset commented.

“Why did you have to keep it secret?” Blake asked.

“You know,” Rainbow said, with a shrug of her shoulder. “Some people… they might not like the sound of it. It might sound like infiltration or something.”

“Don’t you think the fact that you have to think that way is a possible indicator that… that something isn’t right in Atlas?” Blake suggested. “That there are powerful forces, entrenched interests that are opposed to granting us real equality?”

“There are powerful forces opposed to humans being alive,” Rainbow said. “Just because a battle’s hard doesn’t mean it isn’t worth fighting.”

“There are some who wouldn’t see what you’re planning to do as fighting.”

“Yeah, but the people who would say that are the ones who go around hurting kids, so they can bite me,” Rainbow replied sharply.

“All the same… ” Blake murmured.

“It seems a little naïve,” Sunset said. “How do you know that they’ll even let you get to the top, let alone change anything once you get there?”

“I don’t know they will,” Rainbow conceded, “but I don’t know they won’t either. And while I think I can, I have to try.” She pumped her fist. “And if anyone tries to stop me, I’ll smash all obstacles in my path and do it anyway!”

Blake chuckled. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Maybe it is the best way; you’re right that the other ways that have been tried… didn’t work out so well. But at the same time… I don’t know.” She glanced at Sunset, who thought that she was referring as much to the idea of going to Atlas as she was to Rainbow’s hidden ambitions. “I just… don’t know.”